Hello. Ahem. Pardon my voice. My throat isn’t working properly.

Anyway, how’s everyone doing? This is Shin Hyesung. It’s a contemplative evening for all of us tonight to suit the chillier weather.

I was thinking about this the other day and…you know that feeling when you miss someone, and you feel hollowed out, like you’ll never be whole again? Maybe you’re missing a friend, or a teacher, or someone you were in a relationship with. Do you know that feeling?

Well…have you ever considered what if it’s not really the person you were with that you miss, but you missing who you were when you used to be with that person?

Maybe you had smiled more, or had made better jokes, or could do things a different way.

In that instance, can you really say you miss them, the person you’re no longer with?

Wouldn’t it be more fair to say that you miss not being afraid, or uncertain, or unconfident, or sad?

That you miss that sense of belonging not just with other people but with yourself?

Does that make sense? Hahaha. I just wanted to leave that thought out there for you to chew on. And no, my voice isn’t like this because I’ve been crying.

Whom do you miss?

--

October walks with heavy feet. It splashes sidewalks with freezing rain and chases away the last of the leaves still clinging stubbornly onto branches. Above the city, the sky shines silver like a dagger’s edge, making for a gloom nothing else but autumn will suit.

Eric hates it: the cold, the dreariness, the way the wind slams into all of them and burns their skin as it jostles past. Berkeley was mild and graceful in its shifting seasons; Seoul, in contrast, is abrupt and almost violent, with one day’s weather fundamentally different from the weather the day before. But he bears it with patience; after all, there’s little he can do about Mother Nature. For other things, however…

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I need you to check on Hyesung. Call it a favor.” Dongwan says, his tone slightly nervous over the phone. They’ve gotten more comfortable with each other the past few weeks, mostly because Dongwan now spends a sizable chunk of his time at the café and, like Junjin, has managed to worm his way into Eric’s highly-controlled social circle. “I’m really sorry, Eric-ssi, but there’s no one else I can ask.”

Eric rubs a hand over his face. Dongwan’s call had caught him just after he brought Andy to school, and had forced him to pause midway through his trek back home. Because of the morning drizzle, he moves to get under an available awning. “What about Hyesung?”

“He caught a bug of some kind and is at home, but he’s not picking up my calls.”

“So?” Eric doesn’t understand how Hyesung being sick has anything to do with him. “Doesn’t he have a housekeeper? And where are you? Can’t you check him yourself?”

“Mrs. Kim is on a week off so she won’t be back until Wednesday. I’m on my way now to Gapyeong for a shoot and I can’t miss it. Minwoo is at a dentist’s appointment, and I know you guys have the café closed on Mondays so you’re the only one I can actually ask to go check on him.”

Eric can hardly believe his ears which, as an added note, are growing excessively heated the longer he talks with Dongwan. It’s only been a week since his and Hyesung’s last encounter, when they had both picked up the boys. It had ended on a sour note, and he hasn’t seen neither hide nor hair of him since, although has still been religiously listening to his station. But Dongwan doesn’t need to know about that.

“Why me?” He nearly whines. “Doesn’t he have other friends?”

Dongwan sighs. “Not really. And I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the house codes.”

“And you’d trust me?”

“You take care of Junjin every day like it’s no big deal, of course I’d trust you with his vulnerable and rather volatile father.”

“I’m sure he’s not dead, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Eric says, wondering why all of this is such a big deal.

“I know but after Shoo…” Dongwan says before abruptly stopping himself. “It’s just a nervous habit and I’d much rather know from someone that he’s okay. He’s supposed to answer the phone all the time when I call or at least send a message back, but he hasn’t done that.”

The statement strikes Eric as odd. “Huh?” he asks, not entirely knowing what Dongwan means, but Dongwan has already moved past it.

“He’s also a stubborn who insists on getting up and doing even when he can’t, and if you’ve not noticed, that house has three floors.”

Eric sighs heavily. This is not what he had wanted to do on the single day off he gets every week.

“Just…could you just check, Eric, please? I’ll pick up the boys later and meet you so you can bring Andy home. I don’t trust anyone else to do it. I just…” The odd desperation is back in Dongwan’s voice. “I’m just…calling in a favor, okay? Please?”

Eric feels his stomach twist at the words, knowing full well what Dongwan means. The past week has also seen them generating a lot of buzz online due to Dongwan singlehandedly taking over the Wolf and Rabbit’s social media sites and main website by using photos he’s taken himself of the café and its food, as well as targeted hashtags. To say the photos and increased activity have caused a boom in their sales may be an understatement, but Dongwan has so far refused credit or payment for them, despite the numerous times they’ve offered, stating it’s his passion project.

Eric his lips. Of course, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.

“Fine.” He concedes. “I’ll go and check on him. And only just this once.”

“Yes! Thank you.” Dongwan breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“You’d better send him a message saying I’m coming though.” Eric warns. “I don’t want to be shot while standing on his doorstep.”

--

Eric takes a cab to UN Village. The easiest way, Dongwan had said, since it isn’t directly connected to any of the train lines due to its exclusivity and is most accessible by private car. The house has an electronic gate that he wouldn’t be able to override but Dongwan tells him he can go through the garage and take the stairs up to the house. He gives Eric the codes for all of them, telling him I absolutely trust you not to sell these codes out to the highest bidder so many times that Eric nearly threatens him bodily harm.

Well, he has a right to be worried, Eric thinks to himself as he lets himself in the garage after ringing the doorbell several times and receiving no response from anyone inside. The garage door closes behind him with a soft click and the overhead light automatically turns on, revealing a spacious room that houses four very expensive vehicles: in addition to the Porsche there’s also a Range Rover, a Jaguar F-Type, and a Lamborghini, all in the same sleek white paint job. Eric lets out a low whistle.

Can’t believe how rich this really is… He silently gripes as he makes his way to the door at the end of the room and enters the code. It leads to a basement that houses an open-spaced play area –inclusive of a wall-to-ceiling rock climbing area, climbing bars, and mini trampoline – where Junjin’s party games had taken place, and a home studio encased in glass. Eric picks up his pace, already feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Although he’s come with permission, he can’t help but feel like a voyeur and an intruder.

What the have I gotten myself into? He berates himself as he heads towards the stairwell that he already knows leads to the first floor, where he had been initially welcomed in by Mrs. Kim when they had visited. He’s glad he at least has knowledge of where some of the rooms are so he doesn’t feel completely like a fool. The entire house is silent and ashy grey and it’s making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Shin Hyesung?” he calls out, but only his voice comes back as an echo. He doubts he was even heard all the way up to the third floor, where Dongwan had told him the Master bedroom was, and where Hyesung would likely be.

, , …

The house seems much larger than how he remembers it, the space only multiplied by the silence everything is entombed in. He makes his way up to the third floor and goes straight to the door that he’s sure is Hyesung’s, given that the only other room on it is Junjin’s, and he’s been there before.

The door is dark wood with a metal handle, much like all the other rooms in the house. Eric pauses in front of it and knocks. The light around him shivers.

“Shin Hyesung?” he calls out. No response. “Hyesung-ssi?”

The silence persists, and Eric’s palms start to sweat.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

The handle gives way easily under the weight of his hand and he nudges the door open. The bedroom is as large as the living room just a floor down, and enshrouded in dusky darkness. When his eyes adjust, Eric can manage to see the outlines of several pieces of furniture: a chaise lounge, the outline of a fireplace, a chest of drawers, a massive bed.

“Hyesung-ssi?”

Eric approaches the bed the same way anyone would approach a poised cobra: with extreme caution and his senses on full alert. The duvet is tangled and bunched up and he can hardly tell if anyone is actually underneath it. He clutches an end and gently pulls, hoping Hyesung would not take offense.

The bed is empty.

Bewildered, Eric reaches for the lamp sitting on the bedside table. The large golden circle appears and lends enough light to see the bedroom in greater detail. Beside the lamp is a cell phone with its notification light blinking green.

Where is he? Eric quickly moves throughout the room, encircling it in a span of a minute. He checks the en suite bathroom and walk-in closet. Also empty. Anxiety trickles into his veins.

I should call Dongwan…no, I shouldn’t. Not until I figure out where he is, at least. But what if he…

Stamping down all possible worst-case scenarios in his head, Eric begins the search. In feverish speed, he rushes through rooms starting from the second floor, then the first. He barrels through all doors in his path, uncaring for any notion of privacy. Pantry. Guest bedroom. Garden. Balcony one, two, three. All of them turn out empty.

“Hyesung!” Eric calls out, louder now. He can’t help the loud pounding of his heart. He can feel his chest turning red. Goddammit where is he? “Hyesung!”

He speeds upstairs again, taking the steps two at a time. If I can’t find him…if he’s done something… what do I tell Junjin? He feels like he’s going to explode. No amount of Minwoo’s money will be able to fix something like this.

“HYE—"

“What the are you doing in my house?”

Eric turns and comes face-to-face with a rather disheveled, but very much alive, Shin Hyesung. A large duvet festooned with Star Wars characters is wrapped around him, covering his head and making him look like an overgrown cartoon ghost. Eric, startled, nearly trips on his own feet at the sight of him.

“You have three seconds before I call the police on you.” Hyesung says, although he hardly looks threatening. His face is blotchy pale and his nose is bright red. He peers at Eric with watery eyes, although his gaze is steely. “How the did you enter?”

Eric places a hand on his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. “Dongwan told me to go check on you. Said you weren’t answering the phone.”

“That’s not my question.” Hyesung pulls back the duvet and reveals a baseball bat gripped in his fist. Instinctively, Eric takes a step back and raises his hands.

“, calm down!”

“How the are you inside?” Hyesung points the bat at him, looking frighteningly delirious. “What kind of creep are you?”

“I told you. Dongwan told me to check…, okay, just stay right there, let me call him.” Eric pulls out his phone and dials Dongwan, immediately putting it on speaker so Hyesung can hear it ringing. “Hello?” he says as soon as the call is picked up after two rings. “Dongwan, ’s sake, help me out here.”

“Hello? Hello? Did you find him? Is he okay?” Dongwan sounds breathless and rattled and hardly concerned for Eric’s own well-being. Eric wants to yell at him.

“Yeah, I did, and you’d better help me convince him that I’m here on your bidding before I get murdered.” Eric says. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Hyesung, who still has the bat pointed at him.

“What? Hyesung?” Upon hearing Hyesung’s name, Eric extends his arm to hold the phone out to the other man. Hyesung doesn’t take it, nor does he back down from his stance. “Are you there? Don’t kill Eric, okay, I made him go! I told him how to get in. , you should pick up your phone!”

Hyesung’s arm trembles and he lowers the bat. He glares at Eric as though he wants to maim him with a stare.

“I’m fine.” He says, and is voice is quieter than Eric had expected. “But I think Eric-ssi should already leave.”

“Have you eaten?” Dongwan nags like a mother, and Eric can hardly believe he’s being used as a conduit for conversation. “Yah, you have to eat, okay? And from the way you’re sounding you’d better skip tonight’s show. Choongjae will need food too. But I can get him something before we go home—”

“Yes, yes, yes, please and thank you. Goodbye, Dongwan.” Hyesung says before decisively ending the phone call. He looks up at Eric, now looking much more exhausted than he had been minutes before. “You. Go. Now.”

Although he has other places he’d rather be, Eric also detests being told what to do, as well as blatant ingratitude. He pockets his phone, mostly to prevent him from launching it at Hyesung’s head, and stands his ground.

“He really was worried, you know. And you nearly gave me a heart attack. Where the actual were you?”

Hyesung gives a laugh that he may have intended to sound as scornful, but it comes out a phlegm-filled cough instead, making Eric wince. “Am I supposed to answer you asking where I was in my own house? That’s rich.” He sniffles and starts making his way to his bedroom across the hall. When he trips over a potted plant by the stairwell, Eric rushes over to grab him before he falls, his hand easily gripping Hyesung’s wrist.

“Could you not die while I’m still here, Jesus Christ.” Eric reprimands, his heart in his throat. The duvet has slipped down to Hyesung’s shoulders, revealing sleep-mussed hair and enflamed cheeks. Hyesung feels like a furnace, but Eric refrains from mentioning it.

“Let go of me.” Hyesung mutters, although without any anger in his tone; he just sounds exhausted. He rubs at his eyes with the inside of his free wrist as they painstakingly make their way to the bedroom, Eric’s hand still encircled around his other wrist. “God, my head feels like it’s splitting open.”

“Have you drunk any water today?”

“I don’t remember. And frankly, that’s none of your ing business.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “You’re a bigger than I thought.”

“And you’re still ing trespassing.”

“Humor me this one time and just tell me where you were hiding so I can at least tell Dongwan and have him not bother me ever again the next time this comes up.”

“Where else would I be? Only one room in this house makes me feel better when I feel like absolute .”

Eric is confused. “But I passed by the studio you have in your basement. You weren’t there.”

Hyesung gives him a wry laugh. “Studio? What? No, you ignorant louse.”

“Well where the then?” Eric is ready to toss Hyesung into his bed and leave him there. He’s just about had enough lip, and if this had been a different city and a different circumstance, he’d have already left.

Be nice. He repeats Minwoo’s words in his head like a mantra. Be nice…

His train of thought is interrupted as Hyesung pushes him away as soon as his knees hit the edge of the bed. Freed from Eric’s hold, he crawls onto it, taking the Star Wars duvet with him and wrapping it around himself. He sighs heavily once he’s laid back against the pillows.

“My baby’s room, of course. Choongjae’s room.” Hyesung’s voice has weakened to a croak and Eric wonders if he’s somehow gotten worse. “You of all people should know. But then, you’re a .”

You of all people… Eric can’t quite make the connection with him, already distracted by Hyesung’s last statement. Okay, forget it, .

“I’m leaving.” he announces. “You’re obviously very much alive and will probably remain so until Dongwan and Choongjae get home. I’ll show myself out.”

“Hm.” Hyesung says, already reduced to a nose peeking out of a snowpile of covers. Eric reaches for the phone on the nightstand and turns the volume all the way up in case Dongwan attempts to call again.

“If anyone calls, answer it, okay?” he says, making his voice louder on purpose. Maybe to make sure the message gets across, or maybe just to irritate the man on the bed. He moves closer and repeats: “Hey. Shin Hyesung. Pick it up, all right?”

He considers himself successful when Hyesung gives an annoyed but rather pitiful growl. He swats blindly at Eric, although he already seems to be either half-asleep or delirious with fever.

“Go away, Dongwan.” Hyesung mumbles. “Don’t let Choongjae come in. I don’t want him to catch this. Call Shoo…”

The name makes Eric’s ears perk up. “Huh?” he asks, genuinely curious. “What’d you say, Hyesung?”

Hyesung’s eyes are closed but he’s still speaking, seemingly in a completely different world.

“She said she wouldn’t do it again but I don’t know if I want to believe her. Choongjae…I don’t want him to see…I don’t want him near her. Dongwan, could you make sure? Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The words tumble out like a river, like a spirit shaking loose, and makes Eric freeze. He clenches his fists, debating on whether or not he should let Hyesung ramble or help him snap out of the delusion he’s fallen into. He already knows this isn’t something he’s supposed to be hearing.

“Yah, Shin Hyesung.” He shakes Hyesung’s shoulder lightly. Heat bleeds through the thin fabric of Hyesung’s shirt and spreads onto Eric’s palm. He nearly pulls away.

“Dongwan, stop.” Hyesung mutters. “It’s too hot, God.”

There’s an unopened pack of bottled water by the bed and Eric rips it open to take one out. He twists the cap off and with a hasty apology lifts Hyesung up high enough on the pillows before letting the bottle touch his lips. With eyes now open, Hyesung blinks at him blearily.

“Drink.” Eric instructs, using the same tone he would have used on Andy in a similarly difficult situation. He speaks carefully, trying to quell his own growing anxiety at the situation. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Hyesung frowns at him. “Are you the police?”

What the .

Eric shakes his head, bewildered. “No, I—”

“She isn’t here anymore.” Hyesung interrupts, his voice growing hoarse. “I don’t know where she is. Just…please leave us alone.” He covers his face. “We have a son. God, we have a son…”

“I know she isn’t here.” Eric decides to play along, figuring it may just be the easier option. He has no idea what Hyesung is saying, and is too afraid to ask. “Just…” He nudges the water bottle towards Hyesung’s hand. “Drink this first. Drink it, and I’ll leave. I’ll leave you alone.”

Hyesung eyes him suspiciously. “Where’s Dongwan? Did you take him away? He doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.”

“I didn’t take anyone away.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll take it. I’ll take it. When you see Choongjae…” Hyesung takes the water bottle with trembling fingers and drinks the liquid in long gulps, like a man dying of thirst.

“When I see Junjin what?” Eric watches as Hyesung slowly empties the bottle. “What do I tell him?”

“His name is Choongjae.” Hyesung snaps, turning to face him. “And I thought you were leaving?” He tosses the empty bottle at Eric and it hits him on the chest. Eric catches it before it falls to the ground. On the bed, Hyesung has already lain back down, long arms spread across the duvet.

“I was the one who told her to leave. I told Choongjae she left, but I made her leave. She was high as a kite.” His voice is tinged red with misery. “So many tears…what a waste. I’m so sorry.”

--

Eric stands at the foot of the stairs of Hyesung’s home for a very long time.

He’d left Hyesung upstairs, still muttering to himself about some transgression that still seemed to weigh heavily on him. About Shoo. About Choongjae. About some private matter that Eric shouldn’t have been privy to, but now he is and he can’t help but feel a smidgen of sympathy for the both of them.

Junjin, I mean. He reprimands himself. Not for Hyesung. Never. He probably dug this hole himself.

Eric sighs, wonders if all this is the material Hyesung digs deep into when hosting his radio show. He probably won’t be able to host the one tonight, although if he will that would be interesting…God, he probably feels so ty right now…

He gives his head a vigorous shake. Since when did he care what Shin Hyesung felt?

“I don’t!” he says out loud, slightly startling himself. The silence in the house is so great, so cloying, that the urge to make a sound feels necessary in order to not be swallowed whole. Its sparse interior is also unhelpful, as any movement he makes seems magnified by a hundredfold. Melancholy settles on him like a hand on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around himself, shuddering.

(When they say goodbye to the Berkeley house for the last time, Eric feels as though his heart is being reduced to ash. He never thought they would ever leave; it’s the first house he and Yumi had owned, paid for by their hard-earned savings with only minor contributions from their parents. But in recent months, there has been more tears than laughter within its walls, more crying than healing. Despite the fact that he can barely breathe at the thought, he knows leaving is the right decision)

Without Junjin, the house must feel like a prison.

Without Andy, he would most likely not even be here.

(Before they leave, Mr. Ross from next door, a childless widow and a willing baby-sitter for Andy during the rare occasions Eric and Yumi could go on a date, appears on Eric’s doorstep with a Dutch Oven in his hands and a tote bag on his shoulder.

For the road, he says, smiling as he clears his throat. His eyes shine with unshed tears. Nothing can ease your heart better than some nice, thick soup.

He doesn’t mention Yumi, or their sudden and imminent departure, but sets to work setting the table with his own placemats and crockery. Eric watches, stunned and exhausted, and before long he and Andy are both being cajoled to come to the table to sit and eat dinner, as though it’s another normal, lazy Saturday night.

It doesn’t feel like it now, but you will be fine, Mr. Ross says, a gentle smile on his lips. Life…it must go on.

And Eric nods, even with tears streaming down his cheeks.)

“Soup.” Eric mutters, lifting his head. He remembers how good that last dinner tasted, how it was tangible proof of someone looking out for you, how seamlessly it applied a balm to his aching heart. It would be a nice gesture, if not for Hyesung then for Junjin, in case Hyesung made him eat any more of his accursed kimbap. He bites his lip, tapping his fingers against his thigh. The kitchen is visible from where he’s standing.

Should I?

He convinces himself that it’s out of concern for Junjin, that as the only sane adult in the boy’s social circle he should make sure that there’s something for him to eat. The kitchen is modern and airy and spotless like the rest of the house, and there’s a large two-door refrigerator littered with various magnets and several hand-drawn pictures, the only visible sign of a child living there. Eric smiles as he admires a crayon scrawl of two boys, with one larger than the other but the smaller one having much bigger eyes. ME AND ANDY, Junjin had written on it. There are other drawings too, of Dongwan and his big mouth with his camera, of Eric and Minwoo cooking, of Hyesung carrying Junjin in his arms while facing a gigantic sun. LOVE. APPA. FAMILY. BROTHER. SMILE. UNCLE. YUM.

Eric pulls the refrigerator door open and inspects the inside. He’s surprised to find that the shelves are moderately stocked. The housekeeper must have made an effort to load it up before she had gone on her holiday. Eric scans the shelves: milk, eggs, kimchi, string cheese, firm tofu, leftover rice, jam, honey, tupperwares of banchan, and three rolls of kimbap that have been liberally sprinkled with sesame seeds on a plate. At the sight of it, he rolls his eyes.

“Eventually someone has to tell him to ease off on the sesame.” He tuts, recalling how incredibly pungent the last Hyesung-made kimbap he had had tasted like. He pulls out the plate and sniffs at it, recoiling almost immediately as the slick smell of sesame overwhelms him. “’s sake, it’s kimbap, how the hell can anyone actually get it wrong…”

Autumn calls for stews and warm, thick soups.

Eric roots around a little more, instinctively pulling out bits and bobs of ingredients: broth cubes, leftover vegetables, a lemon. He moves around the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, then looks through the spacious pantry, taking out assorted cans and packages.

ading feelings of loss can only be made better by something piping hot and which take time to consume. Soups are best appreciated only when you sit and allow yourself to savor its various flavors. Slowly. Methodically. With absolute feeling. The same way you fumble through a future with someone no longer there; the same way you grieve.

“Minestrone.” Eric decides as he studies the various food items he’s set up on the counter. Elbow pasta. Tinned tomatoes. Onion. Green beans. He’s relieved Hyesung has the bare minimum for something he can make, at least. He doesn’t think he’d be able to just magically be able to cook kimchi jiggae from scratch despite having so many Korean ingredients available. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He switches on his Spotify and turns up the volume.

You’ll need a large-bottomed pot. Start by heating olive oil in it over medium heat.

Add onion, carrot, celery, and tomato paste and cook until the onions are translucent. Stir often. Don’t let it burn.

Add seasonal vegetables: zucchini, potatoes, butternut squash, peas are all fall favorites. This is also a good soup to use up leftovers. Add garlic, oregano, and thyme to boost the flavors.

Tip in the tinned tomatoes, juices and all. If you have vegetable broth on hand, pour that in, with water. If not, use broth cubes and double the amount of water. Sprinkle salt, bay leaves, and dried chili flakes. The Western-type of chili flakes is recommended but Korean chili (gochugaru) can work in a pinch. Season generously with freshly ground black pepper.

Raise heat to medium-high and bring the mixture to a boil, then partially cover the pot with the lid (leave enough of a gap for steam to eascape). Simmer. Cook for 15 minutes, then remove the lid and add the pasta and green beans. You can also use canned beans (cannellini beans and kidney beans are the usuals); they will work wonderfully.

Continue simmering, uncovered, until the pasta is cooked al dente and the greens are tender. Remove the pot from the heat. Squeeze in some lemon and put in a bit more olive oil. Taste and season as necessary; the right ratio of things will really make the flavors pop. Grate in some Parmesan if you prefer.

Serve.

--

“Hyesung?”

The bedroom is still dark when Eric checks on Hyesung once more, but the house has grown warmer thanks to the soup on the stove. The scent of stewed tomatoes wafts up to the third floor and makes Eric’s stomach rumble, but he ignores it as he approaches with careful steps the unmoving lump on the bed.

“Shin Hyesung.”

Hyesung appears to have fallen into a much deeper sleep, which is at least a better state than what he was in a while ago. Junjin’s Star Wars duvet is clutched close to his chest, while his own duvet has been kicked off and is currently a messy heap on the floor. He doesn’t stir as Eric touches his shoulder, then his reddened cheeks, with a wary hand. When his breath feathers against Eric’s fingers, Eric retracts his arm as though burned.

“Fool.” Eric huffs. The fever is still there but is not alarmingly high. “It’s probably just the damn flu and I got an entire soap opera out of it…”

Without much thought, he picks up the duvet from the floor and covers Hyesung with it, tucking in a bit of the ends to ensure it doesn’t get kicked off again. He gets two more water bottles from the pack on the floor and readies it on the bedside table, loosening the caps on both in case Hyesung won’t have enough strength to open them. He fishes out a blister pack of Tylenol that he’d gotten from home before coming over from his pocket and arranges it beside the bottled water. He clears the throw pillows that still litter the bed and stacks them on the chaise lounge.

“Hyesung…” he tries again, this time with less barb than what he intends. He taps Hyesung’s arm. “Can you hear me? I made you some soup. Hey. You have to eat something.”

Hyesung groans in reply but doesn’t show any signs of coming back into full wakefulness. He shakes Eric’s hand off and moves to lie on his back, his hair already matted on his forehead with sweat. Eric has to sigh. Worry gnaws at him at the thought of leaving Hyesung alone in this state. He’d feel better if he knew Dongwan was already coming, but it wouldn’t be until another 3 hours.

I don’t really have much of a choice now, do I? Eric grumbles, already claiming a spot on the chaise lounge. Difficult bastard. His stomach, discontent at having to wait, growls loudly, but he stays put. He’s already crossed a line cooking, uninvited, in someone else’s home; he wouldn’t go so far as to also have a meal there while the owner of the house is sick in bed and unable to yell at him for picking up his chopsticks the wrong way.

“You really owe me dinner for this now.” Eric says out loud in the quiet room.  He crosses his arms and listens to the sound of Hyesung’s deep breathing, the darkness and silence in the room, strangely enough, now more comfortable with the two of them there.

--

Dongwan Kim

16:12

Andy with Minwoo. Met me at the school.

They’ve gone to your house so you can already go as well.

JJ and I already heading home.

How’s Hyesung?

16:15

Sick. Tried to make him eat but he’s too out of it.

Left him Tylenol. Make sure he takes it.

Also left you and JJ some soup. There’s a lot.

Make sure JJ eats as much as he wants.

I threw out the kimbap in the fridge but just tell Hyesung I ate it.

16:16

Thank God.

16:17

On the soup.

16:18

And maybe the kimbap.

16:20

No biggie.

16:21

I’m never doing this again FYI.

--

+010-2721-63…

03:45

Eric Mun.

03:46

Thank you for checking on me.

Dongwan would not shut up about it at ALL.

03:55

I apologize if I said or did anything out of turn.

I tend to not be myself when ill.

Please refrain from mentioning anything I had said to anyone.

My legal team will be in touch if you do.

03:57

That said, I would like to thank you properly once this illness resolves itself.

04:30

Shall we have dinner, then? With the children of course.

04:45

This is not a fever dream btw I really am asking

(Also did you like my kimbap THAT much?? Thought you were allergic)

05:17

Let me know.

10:51

…

11:23

Ok

tbc

Author's Notes
Work ate me ALIVE, I am so sorry for the delay. I do have to stress though that this flu chapter was already planned pre-ncov so the timing of it is just eerily coincidental. 

Ricsyung move so slowly in this fic. Their pace is GLACIAL. God. Thank you so much for the patience!!! And the love!!! I really am sorry it takes so long to write each chapter but I appreciate all your feedback and kudos. Leave me a note and tell me what you think of these two idiots. They frustrate me to DEATH.