secret love

28| unchanged

Jisung's eyes fluttered open, blurry from the remnants of sleep. He sat up with a jolt, his body stiff from the sudden movement. As his gaze cleared, memories of the previous day flooded back, and his thoughts instinctively turned to Minho.

He swiveled to face the adjacent bed, only to find it empty, the sheets neatly smoothed. A flicker of curiosity sparked within him - where had Minho gone?

Jisung swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. But as he stood, a wave of weakness washed over him, and his chest constricted. His breath caught in his throat.

What's wrong? he wondered, alarm creeping into his mind.

And then it hit him - the medication. He hadn't taken it yesterday, the last dose having worn off since morning.

Gritting his teeth, Jisung forced himself to move, his legs trembling beneath him. He shuffled to the washroom, each step a test of endurance. The cool water on his face and the gentle brushing of his teeth helped revive him somewhat.

A few minutes later, he returned to the room, his eyes scanning the space. He grabbed his phone and checked the time - 9:45. Late, he thought, before remembering the one-hour time difference between Malaysia and home. It was 8:45 in the morning.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, taking a moment to tidy the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles.

As Jisung approached the hotel's restaurant, he wondered if Minho had already had breakfast. He hadn't seen Minho in the morning, and a pang of concern flickered within him.

Jisung's thoughts lingered on Minho's whereabouts as he pushed open the restaurant door.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloped him, momentarily distracting him from his thoughts. Soon later, he shrugged it off and decided not to bother. He thought he could. The slight memories of their not so good term reminisce.

Meanwhile, Minho stood in the hotel's lush courtyard, his phone pressed to his ear. The warm Malaysian sunlight filtered through the palm trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

"Yes, I will," Minho said, his voice firm and reassuring. "Don't worry."

The caller's voice murmured on the other end, and Minho nodded, his eyes scanning the surrounding area.

"Thank you very much," he concluded before ending the call.

As he pocketed his phone, Minho's thoughts lingered on the conversation. His expression was a mask of calm determination.

He turned back toward the hotel, his footsteps quiet on the marble floor. Upon entering the room, he expected to see Jisung.

But the room was empty.

Minho's gaze swept the space, taking in the made bed and Jisung's absent belongings. He checked his watch - morning.

Probably out for breakfast, Minho assumed.

Jisung slipped back into the hotel room, the soft click of the door closing behind him echoing through the silence. Minho, already ensconced on his bed, his gaze fixed intently on the screen of his phone.

For a minute, they existed in a state of suspended animation, each lost in their own private world. Jisung shed his jacket, the fabric slipping off his shoulders like a discarded shadow, and draped it over the back of the chair with a quiet rustle.

Minho's fingers scrolled through his phone with practiced ease, his eyes scanning the screen with a detached intensity.

Then, without looking up or turning toward Jisung, Minho spoke, his voice low and even, like a gentle breeze on a summer's day.