With You [minjoon]

two

For a moment, Namjoon almost ignored the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout his apartment.

He pulled out his AirPods, the gentle music in his ears beginning to fade as the sound of the doorbell became loud and clear.

With a small grunt, he laid his book aside and got up. He trudged to the hallway, running a hand through his hair and putting on his best smile.

Upon pushing the door open, his eyes stretched wide with surprise. Drenched in rain from head to toe, his neighbor stood there, holding his umbrella.

It was pouring down behind him. He was shivering as if it were a cold winter night.

"Your umbrella," he mumbled weakly.

He shot Jimin a small smile. Reaching out to the umbrella, he said, "Thank you."

The man couldn't return the smile. His cheeks and eyes were red. How long had he been out there? He was as wet as an otter's pocket.

He was close to jumping back in surprise when the man tumbled into his arms, limp. He stood there, trying to piece together what happened.

It took him a moment to realize the man was out cold. Without hesitation, Namjoon picked his feet off the ground, hurtling over to his couch to gently lay him on the gray cushions.

Namjoon needed a second to think. He didn't know what to do in a situation like this, but he was sure he was doing the right thing.

Looking back at the man, a feverish look fell over him. Carefully, he planted his hand on his forehead, burning with heat.

It wasn't surprising, seeing as the man had likely been out in the rain for hours.

He sat down on the far edge of the couch, grabbing the man's hand, feeling it ice-cold.

He reached for the blanket that was lying behind the couch, gathering dust on the floor. He placed it over the man's body, wanting to keep him warm.

Upon grabbing his book, he got comfortable in a chair, deciding he needed to wait patiently for the man to wake up instead of sitting in worry, tiring his own mind out.

_

A small groan sounded from before Namjoon. He pried his gaze away from his book, folding the top of the page before putting it down.

Jimin's eyes were fluttering open in the dim-lit room, cheeks flushed red with fever. "Hey, you're awake," Namjoon smiled.

Confused, the small man sat up, holding the blanket around his body. He pressed his palm against his forehead as if he were in pain, groaning.

"Why am I in your apartment?"

"You passed out."

Embarrassed, the man lowered his gaze.

"How long were you out in the rain?" Namjoon asked him carefully, looking directly into his dark eyes. He shrugged, "I don't know." Namjoon frowned slightly, "Have you eaten?" he asked. Jimin shook his head.

He slowly pieced things together – lack of food and a small fever must've caused him to pass out. "Do you want to eat something?" he asked the man.

"I'm not hungry." he mumbled in a low voice. Namjoon softened his gaze, "But it's probably why you fainted," he said, "You should really eat. I can cook some rice for you," he rather asked.

Jimin said nothing. Instead, he got a look in response. Namjoon couldn't shake off the sad look on his face – like he had a broken heart.

"Does that sound okay?"

Jimin gave him a subtle nod.

He put the rice over, returning to Jimin while it cooked.

"You have a fever," he told him, slight concern laced in his voice. "Would you like a cup of tea? You must be cold,"

"That sounds nice, thanks..." his voice trailed off.

"I only have lemon; I hope that's okay." he shot Jimin his friendliest smile.

"That's okay."

After boiling some water and pouring the rice in a bowl, he returned to the dazed man. "I know you said you weren't hungry, but it sounds like you haven't eaten in a while," he placed the bowl in Jimin's hands, "Please, get something down."

"And drink the tea," he reminded him, "Your fever's burning up."

Jimin nodded, but he picked at his food like it was a bowl of tiny rocks. Inedible, not to be eaten. He was zoned out, staring blankly down at his flooring while weakly holding a pair of chopsticks between his fingers.

"Are you okay?"

Jimin weakly lifted his gaze, "I don't know who I am anymore."

He put the bowl down, sipping the tea. He proceeded to do that a few more times.

"I should get back." avoiding eye contact, he stood up, letting the blanket fall from his frame. Namjoon frowned. All he could sense from the man was sadness. He was hurting.

He couldn't help but worry about the man after he left. The uneaten bowl of rice. The burning fever.

He ate the rice. He shouldn't let food go to waste. Plus, he needed to eat, despite how long gone his appetite was.

Though, he regretted it immediately after the first few bites. Nausea piled up in his throat. He ran to the bathroom, head drooped over the toilet bowl.

All shook up, he splashed water on his face. Sometimes, his body would reject all food. It would come right back up, as easily as it came down.

He met his pale reflection in the mirror. He'd never looked weaker or thinner. He was getting worse by the day; his medicine was beginning to lose its effect. Sometimes, it failed to numb his intense chest pain.

But what could he do? He was helpless.