The cold lacquer on the dining room chairs was sticky and irritating. The table was too cluttered, Ilhoon and Sungjae had left too many toys, gifts from fans, on the floor. Minhyuk's constant cutesy babbling wasn't helping either. Eunkwang pulled the strings of his autumn orange hoodie in a futile attempt to drown out his same aged friend.

“You know, I could make my own soup.” Minhyuk whipped around from the stove, pointing a wooden spoon in Eunkwang's direction looking too much like a mother scolding an infant. “Nonsense! You're sick!” The leader let out a frustrated sigh and rested his feverish face on the table. “Minhyuk-ah, thank you.” Minhyuk smiled lightly to himself. He knew best how little Eunkwang was capable of when he was sick.

“Did you take some medicine?” Eunkwang stared blankly forward mumbling out an indignant “of course”. There was a chip in the paint on the table, Eunkwang made a mental note to ask the manager about getting a new one, but for now he was going to pick at it. He had a 500 won sized hole by the time Minhyuk set something in front of him.

“You should stop picking, the manager won't buy us a new one.” Eunkwang would have argued a little that they certainly could get a new one but he was distracted by the smell. It was a deep smell, ginger and ginseng for sure, and the comforting undertones of chicken broth.

The taste did not match the smell. Eunkwang couldn't tell if it was the congestion or if Minhyuk had no idea what he was doing but it was bland, like hot water bland, the sixth refill with one tea bag bland.

“Did you... How did you make this?” Minhyuk pouted and crossed his arms in a huff. “I spent two hours on the phone trying to get this recipe out of my grandmother!” Eunkwang grimaced and peered into the soupy depths as if staring into his own soul.

Minhyuk moved to take the soup but Eunkwang rested his small fingers gently on the bowl. “No, leave it. You made it for me and I want to eat.”