The sound of coughing dragged me out of my half-sleep. Loud, ragged, wet coughing — the kind that made my skin crawl.
I cracked an eye open.
There he was.
Woo-jin stood in the doorway of my room, still in yesterday's soaked clothes, hair sticking to his forehead, his usually perfect pink hair now a dark, stringy mess. His lips were pale, his cheeks flushed with fever, and those ridiculous blue eyes blinked at me like a kicked puppy. Did he go running in the rain again? Oh hell no.
"Good morning," he said weakly, smiling like an idiot.
I sat up slowly, more annoyed than alarmed. "You look pathetic."
His smile faltered, just for a second, before he forced it back. "I was worried you'd leave without saying anything."
"I should," I muttered, shoving the blanket off and swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
Woo-jin swayed a little but stayed put, still smiling, like if he just stood there long enough I'd magically stop hating him.
I brushed past him without a glance and headed for the kitchen. He followed me, footsteps dragging on the floor.
"Do you want coffee?" he asked, voice hoarse.
"No."
"Oh." His tone stayed soft, careful, like he was walking on glass.
I opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and drank straight from it, ignoring him completely.
When I turned around, he was still there, standing in the doorway, his shoulders trembling slightly from the chill.
"Stop staring," I snapped.
His smile wavered again, this time not fully recovering. "I just… I like seeing you first thing in the morning."
Something twisted in my chest. I crushed it instantly. "Then go stare at a mirror. I'm not your entertainment."
His breath hitched. For a moment, he looked like he might actually cry — but instead, he nodded and took a step back.
I hated that the sight of him like that made my throat feel tight.
Woo-jin coughed again, bending over and holding the wall for support. I watched for a second too long, then forced myself to look away.
"Don't collapse in the hallway," I said coldly, setting the water bottle on the counter. "I'm not carrying you."
He laughed softly — a pitiful sound that scraped against my ears. "Even if you hate me, I still want to see your face first thing in the morning."
My fingers curled into a fist.
Stop talking like that. Stop looking like that. Stop making me feel like I'm the bad guy here.
I grabbed my phone and turned toward the living room, fully intending to ignore him for the rest of the day.
But the next sound that reached me made my steps falter.
A thud.
I turned back.
Woo-jin was slumped on the couch, face buried in his arms, shoulders shaking.
For a moment, I thought he was crying — but then I noticed how unnaturally still he was.
"…Woo-jin?" I called sharply.
No response.
I walked over, heart hammering despite myself, and put a hand on his shoulder.
He was burning up.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, staring down at his unconscious face.
Why does he always have to make everything so complicated?
"Tch. Unbelievable."
I grabbed a blanket from the corner of the couch and threw it over him, maybe a little harder than necessary. He didn't even flinch.
"This is your fault," I said flatly, as if he could hear me. "Standing in the rain like some tragic drama lead. Did you think that would make me forgive you?"
I stomped off to the bathroom, grabbed a wet towel, and came back.
When I pressed it to his forehead, his lips parted and a shaky breath escaped.
I scowled. "Don't think this means I care. If you die here, people will blame me. I'm just avoiding the police showing up at my door."
He stirred, eyelids fluttering open slowly. "…Dae-hyun?"
"Yeah, it's me. Unfortunately," I muttered, wringing the towel and putting it back on his forehead.
He tried to smile, even now. "You're… taking care of me?"
"No. I'm preventing you from ruining my couch."
He actually laughed — weak and breathless, but somehow still soft. "You're so mean."
"Good. Maybe you'll stop following me around after this."
"Mhm… no," he mumbled. "You… you're the only one I want to follow."
My hand froze for a split second. Then I forced myself to move, replacing the towel with practiced motions.
"You're delirious. Go to sleep."
"Not in the mood."
"If you don't sleep, I'll kick you out."
"Sorry….."
Wait did he actually apologise?
He closed his eyes again, still smiling faintly. "I like it when it's you…"
"Shut up and sleep."
Silence.
I sank into the armchair across from the couch, glaring at him as if that could force my heart to stop beating so fast.
The rain had stopped outside, but inside, it felt heavier.
Woo-jin stirred again, turning his face toward me. His lips trembled as he whispered, "You used to sit like that… when we were in middle school."
My brows knit. "What?"
"You'd… sit with one leg crossed, scowling at me," he said weakly, his blue eyes half-lidded but burning with something sharp. "You'd act annoyed but you'd… stay with me until I fell asleep."
My stomach twisted. "You're hallucinating."
"No." He tried to sit up, but his body was too weak and he winced. "You do know me, Dae-hyun.I know you don't remember, but… I know you."
I stood up abruptly, crossing my arms. "This is exactly why I hate omegas. You cling. You make up stories just so I'll pity you."
His face flinched like I'd struck him. "I'm not lying. I really am not."
"You sound pathetic," I said coldly, walking toward the door. "Stop acting like we have some kind of destiny. We barely know each other. You can't manipulate me."
I heard his breath hitch, but I didn't turn back.
"Then why…" His voice was fragile, cracking. "…why does it hurt so much when you say that?"
I froze in the doorway, fingers tightening on the frame.
Woo-jin's tears slipped silently down his temples, mixing with his damp hair. "Why does it feel like I've lost you before?"
My throat felt dry, but I forced a scoff. "You're just being dramatic."
"It's funny how you said your love for me will never end."
I slammed the bedroom door shut behind me, as if that could shut out the sound of his quiet sobs.
But as I lay on my own bed later, staring at the ceiling, the question wouldn't leave me.
Middle school? Does he know about my past? That no one is telling me?