Morning came slowly.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains, thin and pale, stretching across the unfamiliar bed. Ping stirred first, frowning when he felt warmth beside him. His body stiffened instantly.
…Why is this bed so big?
Then memory rushed in all at once.
The cooking.
The fever.
His stupidly honest words.
Ping's eyes widened as he turned his head.
Keng was asleep beside him.
Not too close—but close enough. One arm rested near Ping's waist, not touching, as if even in sleep he was careful not to cross a line. His breathing was steady now, no longer labored, his fever clearly gone.
Ping swallowed.
Ping had just reached the door, careful with his steps, when a calm voice stopped him.
"You don't have to sneak out."
Ping froze.
Keng was still lying down, eyes closed, voice lazy—almost amused.
"…Thank you," Keng added, finally opening his eyes.
Ping turned sharply. "Jerk," he muttered.
"You could've just said you were awake. You're the sneaky one here," Ping said, straightening his clothes, avoiding Keng's gaze.
Keng smiled faintly, but before he could say anything—
"You seem fine now, so I'll get going."
Ping moved fast, slipping out the door before Keng could reply.
"Cough… cough—"
The sound followed him into the hallway, but Ping didn't stop.
"And where are you coming from so early?"
Ping stiffened.
Rain stood there with a knowing smile, arms crossed.
"Mind your business," Ping replied flatly, walking past him.
"Ohhh," Rain followed easily. "You should've told me you were sleeping over."
"I didn't plan to. It just… happened," Ping said, annoyed.
"If you say so," Rain replied, clearly enjoying himself.
Ping groaned and quickened his steps.
Later that day.
"You look way better," Tao said, eyeing Keng closely. "Recovered overnight, huh?"
"You should thank us," Bank added. "We told him to check up on you."
Keng paused, then smiled—soft, genuine.
"Well…" he said, glancing away, "…you guys aren't completely useless after all."
They stared at him.
"…Wow," Tao said slowly. "You're down bad."
Keng didn't deny it.
Ping's hands were full, stacked with big boxes that threatened to topple at any moment.
Considering his small stature, it was a miracle he didn't collapse immediately.
"Here, let me help," Keng offered, stepping closer.
"No, don't bother," Ping replied stubbornly, puffing his chest out, trying to hold the boxes like a hero.
Just as he proudly refused, his foot slipped.
Instinctively, Keng's arms wrapped around him, steadying him before he could hit the ground.
Ping froze, lost in Keng's closeness. He could feel the warmth, see the sharp lines of Keng's jaw, the fresh-cut, shirt slightly unbuttoned, and those eyes—too attractive to ignore. Anyone could feel trapped in them.
Keng flicked his forehead lightly. "I know I'm handsome," he said with a teasing grin.
Ping's cheeks heated instantly. He straightened, flustered. "I told you I would help… Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Keng murmured as he adjusted Ping's hair
Ping's face burned. He straightened, trying to regain composure.
Keng smirked, lifting the boxes effortlessly.
"By the way…" he said, reaching into one of the boxes he was carrying, "I brought you lunch. I figured you haven't eaten yet this morning."
Ping blinked, caught off guard. "I… I just didn't have time," he muttered, flustered.
"Exactly why you need this," Keng said, handing him the neatly packed lunch.
Keng smiled faintly. "I notice you no longer wear glasses. The contact lens… looks cool on you."
Ping rolled his eyes, a little flustered. "I just decided to change my look. You have a problem with that?"
Keng smirked. "No problem at all," he said, easily lifting the boxes with his well-built arms.
Ping couldn't help but glance at the muscles flexing under Keng's shirt, mind briefly blown. "Ping you're really hopeless…" he said, muttering under his breath as he buried his head in embarrassment.