The morning did not start as usual. Minjun woke up to a slight nausea - his stomach was clenching, and there was an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth. He got up slower than he wanted, feeling his head spin slightly. The air in the room seemed too thick, the scent of the bed too strong.
In the kitchen, Hyuk was already busy: he was chopping vegetables and putting a pot on the stove. The warm smell of broth usually had a calming effect, but today, a new wave of nausea hit Minjun. He lingered in the doorway for a second, inhaling deeply, trying not to show that everything was churning inside.
"Good morning," Hyuk turned and smiled softly. His eyes in the morning light seemed especially deep and warm. "You look sleepy. Want some gimbap? I made it with tuna."
Minjun nodded but barely touched the food. Every bite was a struggle, as if his body was resisting. He tried to chew slowly and not look up. But Hyuk noticed anyway: his gaze lingered for a second, as if checking if everything was alright.
Minjun gave a strained smile:
"Just tired. Lots of studying."
He knew he was lying. He knew that Hyuk could feel it. But to tell the truth meant admitting something he wasn't yet ready for.
***
The walk to the university was filled with coolness. The autumn air smelled of wet leaves and freshness, but Minjun only felt the ache inside. The bus swayed, and the scents of other people's perfume and coffee mixed into a heavy wave that made him feel even sicker. He pressed himself against the window, trying to breathe deeply.
Seven weeks... is that a lot or a little?
If I tell him now - what will he think?
What if everything falls apart?
Thoughts hammered at his temples, and his heart fell out of rhythm.
During class, everything only got worse. The person next to him took out a thermos with eggs and barely opened the lid. The sharp smell hit his nose, and Minjun clenched his mouth shut with his hand, lowering his head to the table.
"Are you okay?" his classmate asked nearby, but he just nodded, unable to speak.
Dizziness, weakness, the feeling that his body no longer belonged to him. He understood: it was getting harder to hide.
***
After his part-time job at the store, he walked home, barely able to move his legs. The lit streets seemed blurry, and the streetlights swam before his eyes. He held on to his bag strap like an anchor.
I can't tell him now. I'm not ready. I need a little time. Just a little...
At the entrance, he stopped, took a deep breath, and wiped all traces of fatigue from his face. He forced a smile - as if that could hide what was inside.
***
Hyuk was waiting for him in the living room. The lamp's light fell softly on his shoulders, making the room seem cozy, almost unreal. Hyuk immediately stood up when he saw Minjun.
"You're late," he said quietly, walking closer. His fingers touched Minjun's shoulder. "Is everything alright?"
Minjun pursed his lips and nodded. He wanted to tell the truth, to get it all out at once. But his tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth.
"Just tired," he repeated again.
Hyuk frowned but didn't insist. Instead, he led him to the kitchen, poured some tea, and added honey to the mug. He placed it in front of him and sat down.
"Drink it. It will help."
Minjun cupped the mug with his hands. The warmth spread to his fingers, but a cold tremor still remained inside. He looked at Hyuk and met his deep, rich eyes. His heart skipped a beat.
Say it. Now. Say it.
But instead of words, a quiet sigh came out. Minjun leaned into his shoulder, as if seeking shelter. Hyuk hugged him, his fingers gently stroking his hair.
"You take on too much," he whispered. "But I'm here. I'm right here."
These words burned from within. Minjun closed his eyes. His throat constricted, and his heart was torn between fear and the desire to trust.
He knew he couldn't hold on for long. He knew the secret was too big to keep to himself. But today - not today.
Today, he allowed himself to simply drown in Hyuk's warmth, inhale his scent, and feel the calm next to him. And tomorrow... tomorrow he will confess.