Silent Echoes

It had been a week since Junhyuk's diagnosis. Vocal nodules. Jaeho had never heard of them before, but he knew they had taken something precious from his friend-his voice. Junhyuk wasn't allowed to speak for at least a month, and while Junhyuk took it in stride, scribbling notes or using his phone to communicate, Jaeho could tell it was eating at him.

Jaeho was quite the talkative type, but he missed the easy conversations they used to have. It felt strange, like something was missing. They were in Junhyuk's dorm room now, Jaeho helping him with some class notes he'd missed while at the doctor's appointments.

Junhyuk tapped the table to get his attention and held up his phone.

"What did the professor say about the group project again?" it read.

Jaeho opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his tongue. His eyes flickered to Junhyuk, who was waiting patiently, leaning back in his chair with a soft smile. There was something about the way he looked so relaxed, so comfortable around Jaeho, that made his heart flutter. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, he leaned forward and opened the notes.

"Uh, he said we need to submit the outline by the end of next week. I can take care of it for you," Jaeho mumbled, flipping through the pages nervously.

Junhyuk tapped the table again to get Jaeho's attention. This time, he didn't use his phone. Instead, he pointed to his chest and shook his head-a silent 'no.'

Jaeho chuckled. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

Junhyuk grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. Just as Junhyuk reached across the table to grab his notebook, their hands brushed. And then it happened.

"I wish I could tell him how much I miss talking to him."

Jaeho froze. His heart leaped into his throat, eyes widening as he stared at Junhyuk. The voice-no, not just any voice-Junhyuk's voice, crystal clear, had rung in his mind. But Junhyuk hadn't opened his mouth. His eyes were still downcast, flipping through the notebook as if nothing had happened.

Jaeho swallowed hard, his pulse racing. Did he imagine it? He glanced at Junhyuk, who was completely oblivious, still smiling as he pointed out a passage in the notebook. But Jaeho couldn't focus. His mind was spinning. That voice... it wasn't possible. Was it?

For the next few days, Jaeho couldn't shake the strange feeling. Every time he saw Junhyuk, the memory of that thought-his thought-came flooding back. It had been so clear, like Junhyuk had spoken directly to him. But how? Was Jaeho just losing it? The stress of exams, perhaps? He was so distracted that he even started avoiding Junhyuk a little, afraid of what might happen if they touched again.

He wasn't sure what to do. How could he even bring it up? Hey, Junhyuk, so I think I heard your thoughts the other day. That's normal, right? He shook his head at the absurdity of it.

A few days later, they were back in Junhyuk's dorm room. This time, Junhyuk was flipping through a book, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Jaeho sat at the desk, eyes glued to the open book in front of him, but none of the words made sense.

Junhyuk tossed a pillow at him, startling Jaeho out of his daze. The silence was deafening as Junhyuk smiled apologetically and typed something on his phone.

"You've been out of it all week. Is something wrong?"

Jaeho's stomach dropped. Was it that obvious? He quickly shook his head, forcing a smile. "No, I'm fine. Just... tired."

Junhyuk raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He got up and walked over to where Jaeho sat, placing a hand on his shoulder, his expression soft with concern.