There is music again. I recognise it as my ringtone this time, but for some reason it seems so distant, and I don’t know why but it seems like it would be too painful to open my eyes and pick up the phone. So I don’t. The music stops and I let myself fall away again. My dreams are getting weirder. This time a tall building crumbles over me and I think I’ll be crushed, but someone I can’t see is suddenly standing over me, taking all the hits. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel warm.

---

“Hmmm…” Joonmyun scratches his scalp while thinking.
“What is… Is there something wrong?” The Chinese snow-top seems worried.
“Minseok isn’t picking up.” Joonmyun mumbles after a minute.
Chanyeol and Jongdae looks at each other.
“Maybe he is sleeping? Have you tried calling again?” Standing there, eager to work, wearing his uniform for the first time, Luhan could not have looked more like an elementary school student looking for his teacher, obviously confused at the lack of Miseok’s presence in the café. His eyes were huge and round and they made him look incredibly lost.
“I’ve already called five times,” Joonmyun mutters back.
“But he usually picks up or call back by the third call.” Jongdae looks outside to the streets that are still wet from the rain yesterday, and notice that the skies are still heavy and grey even though there is no rain today.
“You don’t think anything could have happened to him, do you?” He asks worried. The streets had turned to rivers the day before, and Minseok lived up some hills, he could have slipped and injured himself or something. The Korean staff all looks outside in worry.
“Could it be that he is sick?” Luhan’s question, though entirely rational, still leave them dead in their tracks. They had all immediately wanted to laugh at him for suggesting it, but now they realise that this might actually be just the case. Minseok has never called in sick in the previous two years he had been working there, even back when he lives 40 kilometres away and had to commute after school activities, but the two trips through the weather yesterday may actually have gotten him sick. The boss decided they’ll leave it for an hour or so, but if he doesn’t respond by then, someone needs to go check on him. However, in the end two hours passed, still without a sound from Minseok, and they all begin to worry. Ever since he moved here, Minseok has lived alone and unnoticed by people, mainly focused on work and… Well, they didn’t know what else. He was always busy with work, or mumbling excuses not to join them at anything, and he always went home alone. None of them had ever been to his house even, and Chanyeol was struck by the realisation that he didn’t even know where his hyung lived, and suddenly he felt very uneasy; he had considered Minseok as a close hyung for such a long time, especially after their special coffee making lectures together alone, but now he felt like that had only been something he had felt without it really being true.

“Luhan,” the boss calls as he exits his office, swiftly putting on a jacket in one motion.
“Since there are hardly any customers, and you need Minseok for your training anyway, I think it’s best if you’re the one who join me. I found his address in the employment records, so we’ll be heading out now.” The Chinese boy nods quietly and runs to change out of his uniform, and quickly returns with his jacket on, before they both headed out. Both being unfamiliar with Minseok’s residence, it took a good 30 minutes before they even found the house, and climbing the hills up had been exhausting, having to climb up to the top floor of the house was just pushing it. Five floors up, and only stairs and no elevators, after all those hills, really got their lungs burning, and both boys had broken into a sweat a long time ago. While catching their breaths, they began looking for Minseok’s apartment number, but after scrambling along the corridor for at least 15 minutes, they still couldn’t find it. Becoming increasingly worried, Joonmyun picked up his phone and called his hyung again. While the phone was ringing, silence spread across the corridor, barely the breaths of the two young men were audible. As they stood there, waiting, a familiar tune could be heard, though barely, from the other end of the corridor. Following the sound they found the stairs they had assumed lead up to the roof, but realised now that Minseok’s phone was ringing. The door was slightly ajar, and with careful steps the boys began climbing, calling Minseok’s name with every step closer. Joonmyun had taken the lead, and as he reached the door he could see Minseok’s clothes on a messy floor and chairs and some on the table, and he noticed the blinking of the still ringing phone on the night stand in the far corner. Next to it was a large double bed and he could make out the contour of someone lying in the bed, twisting back and forth, letting out horse whispers of pain. Upon hearing the slight cries coming from the bed, Joonmyun quickly hung up and rushed in together with Luhan.
            They didn’t even have to get close to him, upon reaching his bed it was clear that he was suffering from a very high fever. Immediately the two looked around at their surroundings to find anything of use, and spotting the kitchen Luhan ran over to find a bowl to fill with cold water, while Joonmyun ran to the bathroom to find a washcloth or something to use on Minseok’s forehead. Luhan placed the bowl he’d found on the night stand and reached for the cloth Joonmyun had found in the bathroom cabinet, soaked it in the cold water, wringed it and placed it on Minseok’s head. The half sleeping, fever ridden, boy immediately stiffened under the cold touch, but quickly relaxed, his movements somewhat slowing down. Feeling a little useless, Joonmyun went back to the bathroom to wring and hang up the still wet clothes that he had stumbled over in his search for something to use for the fever. Luhan on the other hand found himself sitting on a stranger’s bedside, monitoring and trying to nurse his fever, looking around to take in his surroundings. It was the apartment of a young person’s hectic life – that much was obvious, with clothes and books and paper everywhere, though yet it still felt very clean. However, Luhan noticed, there was very little in the apartment, only what was necessary, and for some reason he really noticed that there were no pictures anywhere.
            The slanted roof on the left of the bed, where he found himself sitting, had a huge window going almost all the way from the roof top to the floor, and it was quite wide – enough to let in more than enough light to brighten the whole room. Scanning the room he mentally photographed his surroundings; there was a round kitchen table with four chairs right by the window and the kitchen corner, then the stairs he had come up from, next to it was a separate room he recognised as probably being the bathroom – he could see the boss hanging up some clothes over the smallest tub he had ever seen, and then on the other side of the bed there was a desk with a chair and a lamp, and behind it two small, yet completely filled up bookshelves. A grunt from the shivering lump in the bed snapped him back to his task, and he reached for the cloth on the boys forehead, but as he was about to take it the boys eyes flew open and he retreated his hand in shock. The boy stared at Luhan, obviously trying to figure out why there was a stranger in his bed, but before he could come to a conclusion, he was hit by a strong fit of shivers and cold sweating brought on by the fever, and he closed his eyes in pain as his teeth flew clappering in his mouth. 

“Hey, I found something,” Joonmyun announced as he emerged from the bathroom with a small, red, medical kit.
“Does it have a thermometer or painkillers?” Luhan urged, as they both threw themselves over the little, red box. Luckily it contained both, so Luhan quickly grabbed the thermometer and pushed Minseok’s face to the side and placed it in his ear. Joonmyun got the medicine ready while Luhan waited for the little beep from the machine he was holding in his hand, but before Joonmyun got to administer in Luhan jumped up horrified. He grabbed the sick boy and pulled him closer so he could lift him up, and ran to the bathroom while carrying the , he now realised, young man to the bathroom and started filling it with luke-warm-to-cold water. Despite the body sprawling franticly at the contact with the cold water, the eyes did not open again, and Luhan could easily hold him down despite obviously not being anywhere as strong as the other would have been. The thermometer had shown a surprising 41 degrees Celsius, and a cold bath was all he could think of to help it. As the tub filled and the boy’s body relaxed in it, the Chinese went back to the boss, who was on the phone with someone, not wanting to nag but also not wanting anything to happen to the ginger boy who had helped him, he pricked the shoulder of his boss, who in turn hushed the person on the other end and turned to face him.
“I don’t have a phone,” Luhan started.
“But we need to call a doctor. His fever is dangerously high!” A slight panic seeped through in his voice and the older hung up without excuse to the person he had been talking to, and dialled the emergency number. They picked up at the emergency central, and only at the question of how high the temperature was did he turn to Luhan again. Upon hearing his response, both the boss and the lady and the central calling board sped up the process, and they sent an ambulance immediately. Reassured by this, Luhan returned to the boy in the tub, somehow wanting to comfort him in his uneasy sleep.
“,” Joonmyun suddenly muttered behind him.
“What? Is there a problem?” The black haired, young man looked at the boy in the tub, and his eyes expressed immense concern, which only made Luhan feel even more distressed.
“Minseok doesn’t have medical insurance,” he finally explained.
“Oh.” Being a foreigner, Luhan knew fully well how problematic that was.
“,” Joonmyun spat again, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Not wanting to leave him in for too long, Luhan readied a towel before he lifted up Minseok, wrapped him up and carried him to the bed. The fever would probably not have gone down, but he would at least feel cooler, which would help a little on his discomfort. The paramedics arrived not too long after, though they were also struggling after running up all the stairs. As they were taking temperatures and measuring blood pressure and what not, Joonmyun boss explained the insurance situation to them, worried about what to do. A little uncomfortable leaving him completely in the two other’s care, the paramedics said that by the looks of it everything was normal except from the temperature. They drew enough blood to take a couple of tests back at the hospital lab, but if someone would stay and monitor the sleeping boy’s condition, it should be fine to leave him. However, if his condition would change in any way, or the tests came back with worrying results, they would have to come back and take him to the hospital. They gave the boy a shot of some yellowish liquid before they left, and as soon as they were out the door Joonmyun turned to Luhan with big, pitiful eyes.
“Hyung,” he said, obviously embarrassed and seemingly sorry.
“There has been a situation at the café, and I need to go back. Could you look after Minseok? I know it’s a bit awkward, and a lot to ask of you since you don’t know him bu-..” Before he could finish, Luhan was pushing him out the door.
“Yes, of course I will. Don’t worry. If you need me, call on Minseok’s phone and I will pick up.” A little bewildered, but obviously very grateful, Joonmyun left with several bows and blessings of Luhan’s good soul. As soon as the door shut close behind him, the feeling of the two of them being left alone really hit the snow-topped boy and he felt so lost and helpless he just sat down in the closest chair and stared at the person sleeping in the bed.

---

The hours passed, and the Chinese felt the need to do something, anything, to get a relief from this restlessness he was feeling while sitting in the strangers apartment and watching the stranger sleep. Occasionally he came over and re-soaked and wringed the cloth and re-applied it to the boys forehead, and once every so often he checked his temperature again just to make sure it wasn’t getting any worse. It took 6 hours before he saw any improvement in the temperature, but when it finally came he felt relieved and then very restless. And that is where he was now, restless but without anything to do. “If only I had brought a book,” he thought to himself, but then he kicked himself for even thinking it. Of course he couldn’t have brought a book; first of all this had been supposed to be his first day at work and there is no time for reading when you’re working, and secondly he was in this apartment to take care of a sick friend – so if he had sat down to read he would have lost himself and probably forgotten all about the person in the bed. But the thought of books got him curious about all the books and papers strewn around in the apartment. Curiosity got the best of him, and he decided to clean up the mess around him as an excuse to look at the scribblings and papers and books, hhoping that the sleeping Korean wouldn’t be too mad if he happened to read some of the things he came across while tidying.
            For the most part, he found, the papers contained large, detailed drawings of buildings, and the scribblings were mostly measurements and lists of different types of building material. He got through about 20 minutes of cleaning, and then two hours after he had found the 17 drawings and papers with materials detailing one of the most beautiful buildings he had ever seen. Going through each floor, comparing with the materials intended to use, ignoring the math and techniques and such described, he found himself mesmerised by the idea of how it would look if ever made. Keeping up his meticulous measuring of the temperature every so often and keeping the cloth on the strangers forehead cold and fresh, he started organising all the papers, sorting finished building plans into nice piles arranged by floor and with all the details and papers describing each attached accordingly. After a good few hours of tidying and rearranging all the papers and placing the books back in the bookshelves, he started to feel hungry – he had been there for a long time and with all the work he’d been doing, hunger was inevitable. Looking around he realised there were fresh groceries in the fridge, but he didn’t feel quite comfortable with making something for himself with the strangers food. However, his stomach was getting furious, and the boy in the bed, despite slowly getting better, was still actually sick, so after contemplating for a while he decided he could make some soup for the stranger and then excuse himself to some as well – he would even have to go out and buy a few ingredients to make his special get-well-soup his mum had taught him how to make, so he would be putting in some money too, making it only fair that he could grab some for himself.
            The trip to the store was quick, as he knew of a store with close by that carried all the herbs and he needed, and while he was there he had found some cheap but alright looking chicken meat and partly because chicken was good for sick people and partly because he was unbelievably hungry, he had bought some. The lady behind the till had been really helpful and nice to him, despite his slight struggle with understanding the Korean names for all the ingredients he was looking for they had managed to find all of it, and he could feel I huge grin on his face as he excited the store. He started on his way back, eager to get started on the meal, but before he could even exit the street he had been on something pink caught his attention at the corner of his eyes. With only slight hesitation, he stopped and stared, before quickly giving the ahjumma the money, grabbed what had caught his attention and left quickly and hurried back – hunger and the feeling of responsibility for the sick stranger was gnawing at his insides.

Well back in the strangers apartment, which after tidying it with his own hands had begun feeling less unfamiliar, he began preparing the ingredients. It took a little while getting used to, but he familiarised himself with the kitchen pretty well just by preparing this one meal. Having felt uneasy for being there, a feeling which did not disappear while tidying which was understandable enough as he had been reading the strangers private papers, working on making the soup felt nice and as the steam rose from the pot and the scents of herbs so familiar to him hit his nose, he couldn’t help but smile. The hunger was present, but not as noticeable, as the concentration was taking his attention away from the feeling, and the smells were somewhat staggering the familiar pains and stings of an empty stomach. He was so focused on his task that it wasn’t until he finished that he noticed that the stranger was sitting in the bed, watching him with a dazed and confused look as he placed the warm pot on the kitchen table. He gasped in a short shock of surprise, before he ran over to the boy in the bed, whose gingerly orange hair was firmly stretching out in all directions like little hands reaching for help, and little beads of sweat was running down his temples and nose and neck. Placing a firm hand on the others forehead, Luhan quickly established that the fever was not nearly gone yet, but it was definitely on his way down. Minseok turned to look at him, but his eyes were somewhat glazed over with fever, so with some struggling Luhan managed to push him into a good sitting position, leaned against the back wall by the bed, before he left him sitting there and went back to the kitchen. He grabbed a bowl and a spoon and went over to the pot on the kitchen table and filled the bowl with a decent amount of soup – making sure there was a lot of meat in it – and returned to the dazed boy in the bed.
            It wasn’t hard to tell that the stranger was too out of it to feed himself, but Luhan thought to himself that the smell of food may have been what woke him up, so he filled the spoon with a good amount of soup, blew on it until it was consumable, and held it up to the mouth of the boy with large yet narrow eyes. He had to laugh to himself however, when he could tell that the boy in the bed recognised the situation enough to realise that he was supposed to do something, but obviously couldn’t figure out exactly what. “That yellow goo they put in him must have been strong,” he thought to himself amused, before he instructed the boy to “open up”. Obviously recognising the command, the dark haired one obediently did as he was told, and was returned with the divine treat that was Luhan’s secret recipe for good health and a full stomach, taught to him by his mother. The movement became more automatic as they went on, and Luhan sat there patiently feeding the other until the bowl was empty, and then tucked him back into bed. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the boy smiling as he drifted back off to sleep, and left Luhan to finally enjoy his own meal. After he finished up he diligently did the dishes, and right as he placed the last dish to dry, he was startled by the sound of music coming from the corner by the bed. The cellphone, he realised and he rushed over to get it before the sleeping boy would be woken, and he found their boss on the other end, wondering how Minseok was doing. He quickly gave him a summary of temperatures and dropping rate and quickly mentioned that he had been able to make the boy eat, and right before hanging up he explained that he would stay for a few more hours maybe, and if the temperature continued to drop, he would leave. The truth however changed, as every time he decided it was time to leave, he was struck by the fear that the other would suddenly get very ill again, and he kept thinking of the blood tests they would be taking at the hospital, and before he knew it he had managed to stay there, waking over the sick one until eight in the morning the next day – though he didn’t realise until the sleeping body in the bed began stirring as he was checking his temperature again.

---

An uncomfortable feeling on the right side of my head made me open my eyes despite feeling like I had been hit by falling bricks of a crumbling building and my body was aching all over. I look to my right to identify the problem, and is met by two round, unfamiliar yet familiar eyes staring back at me with something weird close to my ear. I jump back, but my throat is too dry to actually scream, and instead I am met by a horrible pain from my throat, and the taste of blood in my mouth. Before I can really gather what has happened I find myself drinking from a glass of water which I automatically accepted from the person next to my bed. As my thirst is quenched and my throat has been cooled down, I see that it is the Chinese friend who is by my side. I look around, and the apartment seems different somehow; all my clothes have been neatly folded, my papers sorted and arranged, my books placed in the bookshelves and there is a pot on the kitchen table. Wordlessly, the Chinese walks over to the kitchen table and grabs the pot before he puts it on the stove, presumably to heat its contents. I try to croak a question, but I’m met with a slow shaking of his head, and I can see that despite smiling warmly he is obviously tired. I don’t feel too good and fall back into my bed, still wondering what he is doing in my apartment and how he got here and why.
“You have been ill,” he says finally, as he places a bowl of something steaming on my night table.
“You got a really high fever after the rain, the boss brought me here. Have some soup and rest some more. Come to work tomorrow.” He smiles and places a spoon next to the bowl, before he walks over to my improvised hallway and puts on his shoes and a jacket. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him leave through the door. I listen to his footsteps as he descends down the stairs and disappears down the hallway. As I am about to reach for the spoon and the bowl, something catches my attention. There, on the hook on the wall where his jacket had hung, was an unfamiliar item. As I sit in bed and scowl down the surprisingly filling and amazingly delicious soup, I keep staring at the item. It makes me smile and I can’t help but think that this guy must be an eccentric friend, making weird soup and buying sick people pink umbrellas.