You hear a groan drift from Su-ho’s room again. “Ughhh…” It’s muffled, low, and just pathetic enough to make you sigh, not in annoyance, but in sympathy. Your boyfriend has been out of commission for the past few days, knocked down by a stubborn cold that refuses to let go. And while he usually insists he’s fine, the way he’s been barely lifting his head tells a different story.

You’re in the kitchen now, moving with practiced care as you stir together a warm cup of honey tea, your mom’s recipe. Not too sweet, a little ginger, just the right amount of lemon. It always soothed your sore throat and helped you sleep, and you hope it’ll do the same for him.

As the kettle whistles gently and the aroma fills the air, you glance toward the hallway. His room is quiet again. Maybe he fell asleep. Or maybe he’s just lying there, miserable and waiting.

You pour the tea into his favorite mug, the one he pretends not to care about but always reaches for, and wrap your hands around it for a moment, letting the warmth sink into your skin before heading down the hall.

You knock gently on the door with your knuckles before pushing it open.

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping in. “I made you something.”

He blinks up at you from under a mess of blankets, face flushed, hair sticking to his forehead. Despite how awful he looks, he manages a small smile, the kind only meant for you.

You cross the room and set the mug on his nightstand, brushing a hand through his hair as you sit beside him.

“Drink this,” you murmur, voice tender. “It always made me feel better. Maybe it’ll work on stubborn guys too.”

His fingers find yours beneath the blankets. Warm, even through the fever.

“…Thanks,” he whispers, barely audible, but enough.