"Yeah."
"Yeah," Jae-min said again, quieter this time, like he needed to hear himself say it twice before it felt real. "I'd like that."
Jihan's mouth curved, something easing in his shoulders that Jae-min hadn't fully noticed was tense until it wasn't anymore. "When works for you?"
Jae-min thought about it—about Min-woo still hooked up to an IV a few floors up, about the fact that whatever tomorrow looked like, it probably needed to involve making sure his best friend actually ate a real meal and slept somewhere other than a hospital chair.
"Not tomorrow," he said. "I want to stay close to Min-woo for a day, make sure he's actually okay before I go anywhere. The day after?"
"The day after works." Jihan nodded, easy about it, no trace of impatience in the answer. "I'll let you pick the place, if you want."
"You're the one who knows all the expensive restaurants."
"I'm the one who's tired of all the expensive restaurants," Jihan said dryly. "Surprise me."
Jae-min laughed, and they fell back into step, the courtyard path curving them slowly back toward the hospital's side entrance. The late afternoon light had gone gold and low, catching in the wet leaves still dripping faintly from the morning's storm, and for a stretch neither of them said much of anything—just walked, unhurried, the silence comfortable in a way Jae-min still hadn't fully gotten used to.
"Can I ask you something else?" Jae-min said eventually.
"You're on a roll today."
"Is that a no?"
"It's a go ahead." Jihan glanced sideways at him, something faintly amused in his expression.
Jae-min hesitated, turning the question over once before letting it out. "Does your father know? About—" He gestured vaguely between them, not quite finding the right word for whatever this was yet. "This. Any of this."
Something shifted across Jihan's face—quick, contained, gone almost before Jae-min could fully read it.
"No," he said simply. "And it stays that way for now."
"That bad?"
Jihan didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice had gone quieter, more careful. "Let's just say my family and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. This being one of them."
Jae-min wanted to push further—wanted to ask what exactly *this* meant, wanted to chase the thread all the way down to whatever was sitting underneath that careful phrasing—but something in the set of Jihan's jaw told him now wasn't the moment.
So he let it go.
"Fair enough," he said instead, and Jihan's shoulders loosened again, grateful for the reprieve even if he didn't say so out loud.
---
Back in the hospital room, Tae-hyun had reclaimed his seat beside the bed, close enough that his knee still brushed the edge of the mattress every time he shifted.
"You scared me," he said, not for the first time that day, though this time it came out quieter, less performative than the earlier fussing over food and blankets. "I mean it. I've never—" He stopped, shook his head slightly. "I don't scare easily. You should know that about me."
"I'm sorry," Min-woo said.
"Don't." Tae-hyun's voice sharpened, immediate. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault you got sick."
"Still. You didn't need to sit here all day."
"I wanted to."
The simplicity of it left Min-woo without a ready response, and he looked away first, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket instead of meeting Tae-hyun's eyes.
For a moment, silence settled between them, comfortable in some places and taut in others. Tae-hyun's mind drifted, unbidden, back to the night before—the cracked door, the low light spilling into the spare room, the broken, frightened sound of Min-woo's voice tangled in whatever nightmare had gripped him.
*Stop. Please. Get off me.*
He turned the memory over carefully, weighing whether to bring it up now, while Min-woo was still soft and unguarded from the fever, more likely to answer honestly than he might be once he was fully back to himself and armed with deflection again.
He almost asked.
The question sat right there on his tongue, ready.
Then he looked at Min-woo's face—tired, pale, clearly not at full strength yet—and decided the timing was wrong. Whatever it was, it deserved a version of this conversation where Min-woo wasn't hooked up to a drip and running on four hours of broken sleep.
*Later,* he told himself. *Not today.*
"Are you heading home tonight?" he asked instead, letting the other question fold itself away for now.
"Once they discharge me, yeah."
"Do you have someone to take care of you?" Tae-hyun's brow furrowed slightly. "You shouldn't be alone the first night after a fever like that."
Min-woo opened his mouth, then paused, something flickering across his face as he remembered—right, the lie. The roommate story. The reason Jihan had ended up dropping him at that apartment in the first place, the reason Jae-min had been the one waiting there when Jihan showed up with groceries.
"I've got my roommate," Min-woo said. "Jae-min. He'll look after me."
Tae-hyun blinked, something surprised crossing his face. "You two live together?"
"Yeah." Min-woo kept his voice level, easy, like there was nothing strange about it at all. "Have for a while now."
"...Huh." Tae-hyun studied him for a second longer, like he was recalculating something in his head, but whatever conclusion he landed on, he didn't push it any further. "Okay. That's good, then. Someone should be with you tonight."
"I'll be fine."
"I know. I'm still glad someone's there."
---
Jae-min and Jihan returned not long after with dinner—simple, easy food this time, nothing elaborate, just enough to fill the room with warmth and the low murmur of four people talking over trays balanced on their laps. Min-woo ate slower than usual, still tired, but steadier than he'd been that morning, color returning properly to his face for the first time all day.
By the time the doctor came through for the final check, clearing him for discharge with instructions to rest for the next couple of days, the sun outside had dropped low enough to paint the hospital windows orange.
They gathered Min-woo's things—not much, just his phone and the clothes he'd worn in—and made their way down to the car, Jihan driving them both back toward Min-woo's apartment while Tae-hyun trailed slightly behind in quiet conversation with Min-woo the whole ride, checking twice more that he had everything he needed.
The sedan pulled up outside the building as the streetlights flickered on one by one.
"Thank you," Min-woo said, leaning slightly through the open window before they pulled away. "For everything. Today."
"Get some rest," Jihan said. "Both of you."
"We will," Jae-min said, already moving to support Min-woo's arm as he climbed out, steadying him with the easy familiarity of someone who'd done it a hundred times before, even if the roommate story wasn't technically true.
They said their goodbyes at the curb—Jihan with a small nod, a "see you in two days" directed quietly at Jae-min that made something warm settle in his chest despite everything—and the sedan pulled away from the curb, taillights disappearing down the street.
Jae-min guided Min-woo toward the building entrance slowly, one arm looped supportively around his back.
"You good?" Jae-min asked. "You're not about to collapse on me again, are you?"
"I'm fine. Tired, but fine." Min-woo huffed a small laugh. "You don't have to baby me."
"I absolutely do. You scared the hell out of me."
Min-woo softened slightly at that, bumping his shoulder gently against Jae-min's. "Sorry. Wasn't planning on it."
They reached the door, Jae-min already fishing for the spare key, when a voice called out behind them.
"Wait—"
Both of them turned.
Tae-hyun was jogging up the street toward them, having apparently asked Jihan to stop or slipped out of the car somewhere back down the block—Jae-min hadn't even noticed him leave the sedan. He came to a stop a few feet away, slightly breathless, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them otherwise.
"I forgot something," he said, though it was fairly obvious to both of them that wasn't entirely true.
"...Okay?" Min-woo tilted his head, waiting.
Tae-hyun's gaze flicked briefly toward Jae-min, then back to Min-woo, some visible effort going into steadying whatever nerve had gotten him this far.
"Can I..." He paused, exhaled, started again. "Can I have your number?"
Min-woo blinked.
For a second, nobody said anything, the streetlight overhead humming faintly, the evening settling quiet and cool around the three of them.