* * *
At that moment, he started doubting Jin Seyoung’s claim that Haebom had simply collapsed from exhaustion.
If Jin Seyoung knew what he was thinking, he would definitely protest.
“Hey… No, Yoon Haebom.”
“Huh? Uh… W-why…?”
Instead of his usual informal address, Wonho called Haebom by his full name.
Hearing his name made Haebom shudder.
Even with his eyes closed, he could tell that Wonho was approaching.
He wasn’t usually this sensitive, but now he could feel Wonho’s presence and wavelength in intricate detail, as if they were connected.
Was it always like this?
He tilted his head in confusion, but since his knowledge of Espers was limited to what he had read in novels, he couldn’t answer his own question.
When Wonho didn’t do anything even after coming close, Haebom cautiously cracked open one eye.
Noticing Haebom peeking at him, Wonho frowned.
He had no idea why Haebom was acting this way.
With a sigh, he reached out his hand—only for Haebom to immediately squeeze his eyes shut again, as if bracing for impact.
“Yoon Haebom, why are you flinching? Do you think I’d hit you?”
He hadn’t done anything—well, saying he had done nothing might be misleading, considering everything that had happened the day before.
But seeing Haebom act so frightened irritated him.
Haebom wasn’t afraid that Wonho would hit him.
It was just that the sight of that outstretched hand brought back too many vivid memories of what they had done yesterday, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open because of it.
He frantically shook his head.
Wonho might have a rough way of speaking, but he had never once hit Haebom.
In fact, Haebom had never even considered the possibility.
He knew that despite Wonho’s harsh words, he was fundamentally kind.
But that didn’t make the flood of memories any easier to handle.
“…Forget it. What am I even doing, talking to a sick person? Just go back to sleep. You still need to finish your IV drip.”
“Huh?”
IV drip?
Haebom tilted his head in confusion.
Then, glancing to the side, he finally understood.
“Ah,” he exhaled.
The steady dripping sound from earlier was coming from the IV.
A needle was inserted into the back of his right hand.
Now that he was aware of it, he could feel a dull ache there.
As he stared at the IV, Wonho clicked his tongue in irritation before turning on his heel and leaving the room.
Only after Wonho left did Haebom glance at the door.
It felt oddly familiar…
It was Wonho’s bedroom door on the second floor.
Which meant he was lying in Wonho’s room.
The very room Wonho had repeatedly told him not to enter.
And now, he was lying right in the middle of its bed.
“…It smells like Wonho.”
The dark wallpaper and blackout curtains made it seem like the room wouldn’t have any particular scent.
But Haebom could detect something familiar.
It was the same woody scent that clung to Wonho whenever Haebom was in his arms.
Was it cologne?
A diffuser?
He couldn’t tell, but he didn’t mind it.
He had assumed this room would be large since it was the only one on the second floor, but seeing it in person, it was enormous—at least twice the size of the room Wonho had given him.
Yet, aside from the bed, it was eerily empty.
When they had furnished the first floor, Wonho had apparently skipped his own room.
Or maybe he had always lived this sparsely…
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
Wonho’s voice suddenly cut through the silence.
Haebom turned in surprise to see him leaning against the doorframe.
He hadn’t even heard the door open.
And Wonho wasn’t empty-handed.
“I can’t sleep. What’s that?”
Even in his groggy state, Haebom could tell that Wonho was holding a bowl.
And if there was a bowl, it likely contained food.
Sure, some people put other things in bowls, but Wonho wasn’t one of them.
Now that he focused, he could smell something warm and savory amidst the room’s woody scent.
“…Porridge.”
“Porridge? Why? Is it for me?”
Wonho’s brows furrowed deeper at Haebom’s continuous questioning.
As Wonho’s frown deepened, Haebom’s head tilted further to the side.
He wasn’t answering.
As the silence stretched, Haebom started to wonder if the porridge wasn’t for him after all.
Maybe Wonho had brought it up to eat himself.
After all, Wonho had told Haebom to sleep before leaving, so he probably thought Haebom was still asleep.
He wouldn’t have brought food for someone who was sleeping.
That meant the only logical conclusion was that Wonho had brought the porridge upstairs to eat in his own room.
But why, when there was a perfectly good dining table downstairs?
That wasn’t the important part, though.
“Oh, eat comfortably. Do you want me to move?”
“…What kind of nonsense are you spouting?”
Wonho’s face twisted even more than before.
Just what had this tiny head of his been thinking while he took so long to answer?
Wonho wasn’t the patient.
Why would he be eating porridge?
And even if Haebom wasn’t sick, Wonho wouldn’t be eating porridge either.
Jin Seyoung had already examined Haebom and confirmed he wasn’t actually ill—just completely drained.
But to Wonho, Haebom was as good as a patient.
His already pale face had lost even more color.
That was enough for Wonho to decide: the porridge was definitely for Haebom.
With a scowl, Wonho walked toward the bed.
Even though Haebom had just been called out for his ridiculous assumption, he instinctively shifted to make space for Wonho.
In truth, Wonho’s bed was several times bigger than Haebom’s.
Even if Haebom rolled around on it, he wouldn’t fall off.
That meant there was more than enough space for Wonho to sit comfortably without Haebom moving aside.
Even so, Haebom thought he should move because this was Wonho’s bed.
“Hey, don’t move. Do you not remember you have to finish the IV? Is it because your head’s too small or something…?”
“Huh? No, I was just letting you have space to eat.”
“I told you to stop talking nonsense.”
Wonho, who had approached the bed, growled, making Haebom freeze.
From the way Wonho kept telling him to cut the nonsense, it seemed like the porridge belonged to Haebom.
And as if to prove that thought right, Wonho held out a bowl of porridge to him.
A savory aroma lingered in the air.
Haebom accepted the bowl and simply stared at the appetizing porridge.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
Wonho’s voice was laced with irritation as he watched Haebom stare at the porridge instead of eating it.
But Haebom had a problem.
“…Spoon.”
He hesitated for a moment.
Should he say it or not?
He could’ve easily gotten the spoon himself.
But for some reason—probably because of the IV—Wonho seemed to not want him to leave the bed.
So, in the end, Haebom quietly muttered the reason why he couldn’t eat.
“Ah, fuc… Wait here.”
“Oh…”
Realizing his slip, Wonho clenched his jaw, turned around, and left the room.
For some reason, Haebom found that cute and let out a small chuckle.
If he laughed too obviously, Wonho would definitely get annoyed, so he tried his best to suppress it.
* * *
So cute