secret story | jeno x reader

Chapter 12: Care

The heavy downpour outside was deafening, lightning flashing across the dark sky, illuminating the room momentarily before plunging it back into darkness. The deep rumble of thunder shook the walls, and the rain relentlessly pounded against the windows. It was one of those nights where all you wanted to do was curl up in bed, warm and safe from the storm outside.

But something felt off tonight.

I lay on the couch, flipping through a medical journal, trying to relax after the long day, but my thoughts kept drifting to Jeno. He had been unusually quiet since dinner. Normally, he'd be cracking jokes or engaging in playful banter, but tonight, he seemed distant. His face had been pale, and he had barely touched his food, which was completely unlike him.

I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

"Jeno?" I called out from the living room, but there was no response.

The storm outside roared louder, but all I could think about was checking on him. My medical instincts kicked in, and I set the journal aside. I walked over to the bedroom where Jeno was lying in bed, facing away from the door, his form barely visible in the dim light of the nightstand lamp.

"Hey, Jeno, are you okay?" I asked, my voice softer this time as I stepped closer.

Still no response.

Worried, I approached him and placed my palm gently on his forehead. The moment my hand made contact with his skin, a jolt of concern shot through me. His forehead was burning with fever, and his cheeks were flushed despite the overall pallor of his face.

"Oh gosh, your temperature," I muttered to myself, feeling the heat radiating off him.

He stirred slightly at my touch but didn't fully wake up. His body seemed to be fighting off whatever was ailing him, but it was clear he was burning up. I needed to act fast.

I quickly headed to the bathroom, grabbing a few things: a washcloth, a bowl of cool water, and some medication to help bring down his fever. After dampening the cloth, I returned to his side, gently placing it on his forehead, hoping it would provide some relief. He shifted uncomfortably but didn't resist.

"Jeno, wake up," I said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

His eyes fluttered open slightly, clouded with fever. He was disoriented, blinking a few times before his gaze found me.

"Y/n?" he mumbled, his voice raspy and weak. "What's going on?"

"You're running a high fever, babe," I replied, dabbing his forehead with the cool cloth. "I need to take care of you, okay?"

He gave a slight nod, too exhausted to argue. His usual strong, confident demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by a vulnerability I rarely saw in him. Seeing him like this tugged at my heartstrings. He was always the one taking care of me, making sure I was okay, and now the roles were reversed. I hated seeing him suffer.

After ensuring the washcloth was cool enough, I administered some fever-reducing medicine, coaxing him to sit up slightly so he could swallow the pills with a sip of water. He leaned heavily against me, his weight reminding me just how weak he was right now.

"There you go," I said gently, stroking his hair as I laid him back down. "You're going to feel better soon."

Jeno's eyes drifted shut again, his breathing heavy but uneven. I stayed by his side, changing the washcloth periodically to keep it cool and monitoring his temperature. The storm outside continued to rage, but inside, it felt like all that mattered was making sure he pulled through this.

Hours seemed to stretch on as I stayed by his bedside, my heart aching at the sight of him so pale and weak. His fever was stubborn, refusing to break easily. Occasionally, he'd stir and murmur incoherently, caught in fevered dreams. I held his hand, whispering reassurances whenever he seemed particularly agitated, hoping my presence would be enough to comfort him.

At some point in the night, Jeno's hand tightened around mine, his fingers weakly gripping mine as if seeking reassurance.

"Don't... go," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm right here," I promised, squeezing his hand gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

His breathing steadied slightly at my words, and I felt a pang of relief. Even though he was sick, he still wanted to make sure I was close. It was such a Jeno thing to do—to worry about me, even when he was the one who needed help.

The minutes ticked by, and finally, as the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, his fever started to break. I could feel the heat receding from his skin, and his breathing became more even. The color slowly returned to his face, and though he was still pale, it wasn't as alarming as it had been hours earlier.

By the time the storm outside had calmed, Jeno's fever had dropped significantly. He stirred again, this time more aware, and opened his eyes. They were still glassy with exhaustion, but he looked at me with a soft smile.

"You stayed," he said weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course I did," I replied, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "I told you I wasn't going anywhere."

He chuckled softly, though it quickly turned into a weak cough. "I'm such a mess."

"You're not a mess," I reassured him, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "You're just sick. It happens to everyone."

Jeno sighed, closing his eyes again, though this time it was with a sense of relief rather than exhaustion. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Don't thank me. It's my job," I teased lightly. "Besides, you've taken care of me enough times. It's only fair I return the favor."

He smiled weakly at that, but I could tell he was still too drained to say much more. I stayed by his side, making sure he had everything he needed. Eventually, as the morning sunlight began to fill the room, I saw his body fully relax into sleep, this time a restful and healing one.

I stood up quietly, tiptoeing out of the room to let him rest. My own body was exhausted from the night, but the relief I felt at seeing him improve was enough to keep me going. I made myself a quick cup of coffee and sat by the window, watching as the last remnants of the storm drifted away, leaving behind a calm, quiet morning.

Despite the exhaustion and the worry, there was something peaceful about moments like this—when the chaos subsided, and you were left with the simple comfort of knowing the person you cared about was safe and healing.

I glanced back at the bedroom where Jeno was resting, a soft smile on my face. He'd probably be back to his usual self in a day or two, cracking jokes and teasing me about something or other. But for now, he needed to rest and recover.

And I would be there every step of the way, just as he had always been there for me.