Tour schedules were brutal. Between rehearsals, flights, press, and barely enough sleep, Jake’s body was screaming at him, and it decided to hit back in the worst way: a canker sore. One that made every bite hurt and every word feel like sandpaper. He tried hiding it. Again. But you weren’t fooled.

You’d seen him press his tongue to the side of his cheek too many times. You knew the signs. And you always showed up before he even asked.

He was weirdly quiet today. Not that Jake couldn’t have quiet days, but this wasn’t his usual kind. No humming. No silly one-liners. No jokes with Sunghoon across the room.

You caught him wincing after trying to sip his coffee.

You walked over, arms crossed. “Let me guess. You’ve got one of those annoying mouth ulcers again?”

Jake blinked up at you from the couch, mid-sip, already caught. “…No?” he mumbled, voice slightly off, lips barely moving.

You gave him a look.

“…Okay yes.”

You sighed and reached into your bag, pulling out that little kit you kept for situations like this: a mild numbing gel, rinse packet, and a soft, cool drink. You set it down next to him.

“I’m not a doctor, but I should be with how often I treat you.”

Jake chuckled softly, still trying not to move his mouth too much. “It hurts.”

“I know.”

You knelt beside him, gentle but firm. “I’ll prep the rinse. Go gargle. Then we’ll numb it, and I’ll tell the others you’re not doing interviews today.”

He looked up at you for a long moment, eyes tired but grateful.

“You’re my favorite,” he whispered, almost joking, but not quite.

You rolled your eyes. “I better be. Now go rinse. And no spicy food until I say so.”

He saluted you with a weak grin and stood.

And for the rest of the day, he stayed close. Not talking much, but always looking your way. Like your presence dulled the pain, even more than the gel did.