Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the curtains. Johan woke up with that uncomfortable sensation of having slept too deeply, something that rarely happened. His head was still slightly pounding.
The smell of fresh coffee hit the room even before the sounds of the neighborhood. Johan blinked slowly, his throat dry and his body still heavy, but less feverish. He looked to the side.
The armchair was empty.
For a second, his chest sank into that old habit, "Of course. He left. Obviously."
But then, he heard the sound of a cup being placed on the table.
Kang appeared in the doorway, wearing a different shirt, now an oversized T-shirt that belonged to Johan. His hair was still messy, like he'd lived there for ten years.
— Brought you coffee — he said, simple, almost too casual for someone who had spent the night awake in a stranger's home.
Johan tried to sit up. Let out a soft groan from the dizziness.
Kang walked over to him — steady, but slow.
— Easy. You're still running a fever. — He extended a hand holding some medicine. — Take this first.
Johan took it. Drank the bitter liquid, then the coffee, in silence. Only after the second sip, eyes half-closed, did he ask:
— You... stayed?
— Yeah. You passed out on the couch in the middle of a panic attack, eyes wide like you were about to stab me.
— And you stayed? Cooking in my house? — Johan crossed his arms, suspicious.
— Relax, I just made coffee. If you want, I can throw it all on the floor right now.
— No... — Johan looked away, trying not to laugh. — My coffee sucks anyway.
Kang leaned against the counter, flashing that almost-provocative smile.
— Are you always this grumpy in the morning? Or am I just special?
— You're a pain in the ass.
— But a pain in the ass who makes decent coffee. — He pushed a mug toward Johan. — And, by the way, didn't lay a finger on you while you slept. See how trustworthy I am?
Johan took the mug slowly, eyes scanning Kang like he was some unsolved equation.
He stared into the hot liquid. His throat tightened a little. That usual anger, that need to stay guarded... was fading. And that was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
— You're annoying.
— But I make good coffee. You'll have to live with that. Now get some rest. No one expects you to carry the world on your back.
— I have work to do.
— I'll go. I'll work for both of us. You just rest.
(...)
It was 7:53 AM when Kang scanned his badge at Hiddenline's turnstile. A soft beep confirmed entry. The glass doors slid open, revealing the sleek, modern lobby. Johan's empire.
— Good morning, Mr. Kang! — the receptionist greeted with a smile.
— Morning. — he replied, curt but polite.
As he rode the elevator to the executive floor, some employees were already walking through the hallways, adjusting badges, reviewing reports. The soft morning buzz was starting to build.
— Huh... — one analyst whispered to another. — Kang's here already? And the president isn't?
Adrian showed up with a clipboard in one hand and coffee in the other.
— Mind your business, Lucio. — he muttered. — Get to work.
The analyst shrank back, embarrassed.
Adrian caught up with Kang in the hallway, walking beside him toward the meeting room, curiosity not even slightly disguised:
— Something happen last night?
Kang didn't answer right away. He opened the door, tossed his blazer on the chair, and booted up the computer.
— He's... not doing well. — he finally said, still not meeting Adrian's gaze.
Adrian's expression tensed.
— He had an episode? That's the only reason he'd be late. Let me know when he gets in.
Kang just nodded. Barely a gesture.
He rolled up his sleeves, brow furrowed. The new security system was running well; he only needed to test it, as Johan had explained. But that didn't stop his head from drifting... elsewhere.
Johan.
He shouldn't be thinking about this. But he was. Since the moment he left Johan's house, still wearing the man's shirt.
Kang stood up, grabbed a coffee, and stared out into the main hallway. He'd made Johan promise to rest. To stay home.
But deep down, he didn't believe it.
Johan was stubborn. Hard as stone. And... predictable in his own rigidity.
That's why, when he saw that familiar figure walking down the hallway, coughing, pale
Kang muttered a low "sh*t" and stood up, body moving before his brain.
Johan walked in. Dressed in business attire, dark circles under his eyes, coughing softly. Carrying his backpack like it weighed fifty kilos.
Kang walked over, stunned.
— Why did you come in? You're not okay.
Johan looked at him, a bit irritated.
— Don't you think you're overstepping? This isn't the first time this has happened. Unfortunately.
— But you could've stayed home. Can't you trust me?
Johan laughed. But didn't answer.
Of course I can't trust you. I can't. I shouldn't.
Because trusting someone like you means opening a door I locked with blood.
Even though, deep down, he knew: everything Kang had done had helped him recover faster. He didn't even have to ask.
But Kang's words from the night before were still echoing in his head.
Johan swallowed hard.
Why had he even let the younger one work in his office?
It hadn't been long, and Kang was already bringing him tea.
— You're trying too hard. — Johan said.
— It's because I'm worried.
— You just want something in return. I know it.
Kang sighed.
— Do whatever you want.
The younger one sat down.
They worked the rest of the day in a functional silence.
Short instructions. Codes. Data.
All technical. All safe.
Until the clock hit 7:00 PM.
— You staying late? — Kang asked.
— I've got a meeting with the branch investors. You can go.
— Alright.
But Kang didn't leave.
He stepped out, then came back with an emergency blanket and a laptop in his lap. Sat on the office couch and stayed there, typing, monitoring company updates.
He ended up falling asleep. Head tilted to the side, just like before.
Two hours later, when the meeting ended, Johan returned, exhausted, tense, ready to throw a punch at the world.
But he stopped.
He saw Kang.
Asleep again on the couch. Hair falling over his forehead, expression soft. Like that was the only place in the world he wanted to be.
Johan walked closer, something between anger and tenderness burning in his stomach.
— Idiot. — he muttered, barely audible.
Kang stirred, and in his sleep, murmured:
— ...Johan.
The older man froze. He hadn't expected that. Didn't even know if Kang was conscious.
He wanted to get closer. Hoping to hear his name again.
It sounded like a plea. A memory. Or... a dream.
He stayed there, still. Leaning against the desk. Watching. Chest tight.
Kang slowly woke up. Eyes opening, half-lost, half-alert.
And saw Johan. Still there. Watching.
— You okay? — he asked, voice still thick with sleep.
Johan swallowed hard.
Kang stood, walked closer, close, really close. Reached out and touched his forehead, just like before.
— Hm... no fever. — he whispered. — Good sign. — But didn't look away.
For a second, the air stopped moving.
Their faces were too close.
Time stopped making sense.
Johan could hear the heartbeat. Or maybe it was his. He couldn't tell anymore.
Kang still had his hand on his forehead. Johan placed his own hand over it.
A warm touch. Way too permissive.
In the silence. In the locked gaze.
Johan waited.
Kang could feel Johan's stare burning his skin.
All it took was a second of courage.
But Kang looked away. Let out a light, nervous laugh. Took a step back. Withdrew his hand.
— Well... I'm off. See you.
And he left.
Johan stayed there. Frozen. That final phrase echoing in his head, unsure whether to laugh or punch the desk.
Did this kid just run away?