King's chest felt tight, his mind tangled with thoughts that refused to quiet down. A dull headache pressed at his forehead, heavy and unrelenting. Just then, his phone buzzed on the table beside him.
The screen lit up with a name that made his heart lurch… Win.
"King, what do you want to eat? I can order it for you," Win's voice sounded calm but edged with concern.
King's voice was weak. "Win…"
"Yes?" Win replied.
"I… I have a headache. I'm not hungry now. I'll just sleep. Later, when I wake up, I'll let you know if I want anything."
There was a pause on the line. Win almost said, Do you want me to take you to the hospital? But he changed his words mid-thought. "Do you want me to come back home and take care of you?"
King shook his head weakly, though Win couldn't see it. "I'll be fine. I just need to rest."
"Okay… I'll call back later. Make sure you pick up," Win said, worry threading through his tone.
"I'll… okay," King muttered, closing his eyes.
Win hung up, his focus shattered. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't concentrate on the files before him. Meetings blurred together, his thoughts constantly drifting to King, imagining him lying in bed, unwell.
Finally, after finishing his last meeting, Win couldn't wait any longer. He dialed King repeatedly, but the calls went unanswered. His concern mounting, he grabbed his bag, told his driver to head home immediately, and kept calling, desperate to know King was safe.
Getting home, Win found King asleep on the living room couch, his phone nowhere in sight.
He moved closer and crouched beside him. "King, are you okay? I've been calling."
King stirred, eyes half-open. "Sorry… my phone's upstairs. I didn't have the energy to get it."
Win rubbed his thumb across his knuckles. "It's okay. Let me get you something, maybe food or some medicine."
King shook his head. "I don't need food or medicine."
"What do you want?" Win asked.
King looked up at him slowly. "Can you hug me?" he whispered.
Win didn't hesitate. "Of course." He pulled King into his arms, holding him tight. King's quiet sobs leaked out almost immediately.
Win asked softly, "What's wrong?"
King swallowed and tried to smile through the tears. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."
"Tired of what?" Win pressed.
King's voice broke. "I'm tired of myself."
When Win asked why, King could only cling to him and whisper to himself, "I hope this feeling will wash away."
Win stayed there, holding King tightly until the sobs slowed and his breathing evened out, soft and steady.
When he was sure King had fallen asleep, he carefully shifted him, laying him down properly on the couch. He tucked a pillow beneath his head, then went upstairs to fetch a blanket. Draping it gently over him, Win lingered for a moment, watching his face, peaceful yet still faintly troubled even in sleep.
After changing out of his work clothes, Win moved to the kitchen and began preparing something light, something King could manage if he woke up hungry. Still unsettled, he reached for his phone and dialed his mother's number.
The call connected.
"Win," his mother answered warmly. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Mom," Win replied, his tone a little strained. "Actually… I called because of King."
There was a short pause on the other end. "What about him?" she asked carefully.
"He's not feeling well," Win admitted. "He has a headache, but he refuses to go to the hospital. I don't want to force him right now. What's the simplest thing I can do to relieve it for him?"
His mother's voice softened, turning practical. "Make sure he stays hydrated first. Get him some warm water or tea, nothing cold. A light meal would help too, something easy to digest. If he'll allow it, give him a mild pain reliever, but don't push if he resists. Let him rest in a quiet, dark place, and check on him often."
Win exhaled. "Alright. I'll do that. Thank you, Mom."
"You're welcome, son," she said gently. "And… Win, take care of him. Sometimes, care is the best medicine."
"I know," Win murmured, glancing toward the couch where King lay sleeping. "I will."
He ended the call, determination in his eyes as he set about following his mother's instructions.
After the call with his mother ended, Win barely had a moment to breathe before his phone lit up again, Mike's name flashing across the screen. Win sighed but answered.
"Win," Mike's voice came through, brisk as always. "I'm coming to your office. I need you to handle something for me."
Win leaned against the counter, lowering his voice. "I already left the office. If it's urgent, you can bring it to the house."
There was a beat of silence before Mike asked, curious, "Why'd you leave early? That's not like you."
"King's not feeling well," Win replied simply. "So I left to come take care of him."
Mike chuckled, teasing. "Ah, your boyfriend, right?"
Win's face hardened instantly. "It's not funny, Mike. Don't say that again."
"Why?" Mike pushed lightly. "It's obvious…"
"Don't you ever call King my boyfriend again," Win cut in, his tone sharp. "Stop cracking useless jokes already. I've told you several times, I have a girlfriend."
For a moment, Mike was quiet, then he sighed. "Win… but why is it so hard for you to accept the truth?"
Win's grip on the phone tightened. "If you continue with this conversation, I'll end the call."
"Alright, alright," Mike relented. "I'll bring the file to your house so you can help me out."
"Fine," Win muttered. "I'll be here."
He ended the call quickly, dropping the phone on the counter with a little too much force. The silence that followed was heavy, stretching through the quiet house.
Win rubbed his head and finally headed upstairs, unaware that in the stillness of the living room, King had stirred awake.
King had heard. Every word.
He lay frozen on the couch, the blanket pulled up to his chin, his chest aching in a way that medicine couldn't heal. Even though he already knew, already accepted, that Win would never see him as more than a friend or, worse, a sick boy he felt obliged to fix… hearing it aloud, hearing Win so firmly reject even the idea of them, tore at something deep inside him.
Then he thought, It's time he follow Charlotte's advice. If he keep staying here with Win, he'll only keep suffering. Torturing himself over feelings he can't fight. Feelings Win will never return.
Then, faintly, he heard Win's footsteps descending the stairs.
He shut his eyes quickly, pretending to still be asleep as he fought to swallow the tears burning at the corners.
Win leaned down and touched his shoulder gently. "King… stand up and eat a little so you can take some tea," he coaxed softly. His voice carried patience, practically imploring, as though he could will strength back into him.
King stirred, slowly sitting up. Win brought the tray closer and, without hesitation, began feeding him spoon by spoon. King ate quietly, taking only what he could manage, then shook his head.
"I'm full," he whispered, pushing the plate away. He sipped a little tea, swallowed the pain relief, and leaned back against the couch. Silence lingered between them, heavy but strangely fragile.
Finally, King gathered his courage, his voice barely steady. "Win…"
Win glanced at him immediately. "Yes?"
King lowered his eyes, clutching at the blanket as if it might hold him together. "I want to move out… and start staying on my own."
Win froze, his brows knitting in confusion. "What?"