Soundtrack: Fool For You by Zayn Malik

The universe hates me. Nothing is worse than getting a fever during midterms. I look around and feel so disappointed at myself. Unstacked papers scaterred on my desk. Lots of unfolded clothes on the floor. Tissues all over the bed damped around me like some sort of a flower garden.

God, I'm a total mess.

My head feels so heavy and my nose is clogging. AND my throat is itchy. For Pete's sake, I feel like dying. What's worse is that Seulgi, my roommate for more than two years, is MIA. Right when I needed someone the most. She's been gone for almost three days now. Said it's for family matters.

And just then came a knock on the door.

I look at the digital clock on the side table and see that it's already 6PM. Dinner time. Shoot. I still need to take meds.

Drowsily, I force myself to get off from bed with a roll of tissue in my hand and dragged myself towards the door. When I opened it, I suddenly want to shut it. Which I did, but failed since he was quick enough to slip a foot in between the door and the frame and eventually slipped himself to prevent me from entirely shutting the wooden door. I have no time for visitors and am incapable of having one.

I had no choice but to let him in for the sake of hospitality and immediately went back to my bed. He shut the door softly and I notice his other hand was loaded.

He placed the plastic bag on the side table. Steam came rising from it and I could almost smell the chicken soup. Ugh. If it just wasn't for my clogged nose. Seriously, my senses feel like they aren't functioning at a hundred percent.

"Seulgi told me," he softly said and stood beside the table.

Seulgi. Of course she'd tell him. Seulgi was the kind of friend who always knew the right thing to do in a particular situation. I hate her. I have to make a mental note to text her later.

"You don't need to do this," I tell him quite rudely but he seems unfazed. He always is. Ugh. Even my voice sounds sick. It's so nasal and strained.

"I want to." He simply says and sits on the space beside me. His dark, crescent-like eyes examines my face and I had to divert my attention to something else. Say, his long, dark hair for example. I didn't notice it could grow that fast now that it's already reaching his brows.

His sudden movement catches me off-guard that it was too late for me to realize that he was alredy pressing the back of his palm on my forehead. It felt surprisingly chill.

"You have a serious fever." Concern is etched all over his face. Just say that I'm hot, for crying out loud.

"Ha, it's just because I'm so hot you can't handle this."

"No. This is like hospital level fever. You're going to die." He looks even more concerned now. Alarmed, to be specific.

"You know that I hate hospitals. I just need a rest." I argue and shift to get a more comfortable position.

His hand trailed down to my neck and if I wasn't too weak I would've flinched already. But I was, I couldn't even move a limb and so I let him be. He lets out a sigh and stands up. Alas, what hid inside the plastic bag was indeed a chicken soup. My stomach suddenly churned.

"You're going to eat and take your medicine." Was it an order? I can't really tell by the look on his face. He seemed serious now.

"Alright, mom." I sarcastically said and hauled my