Jiwon watched as Seungho’s breathing evened out, his sharp features softening in sleep. It was rare to see him like this—unguarded, vulnerable, human.

He’d probably kill me if he knew I was staring.

Smirking to himself, Jiwon stood up quietly, thinking he should at least let Seungho rest properly. But just as he turned to leave, a hoarse voice mumbled behind him:

"Where are you going?"

Jiwon glanced back, eyebrows raising. "You were supposed to be asleep."

Seungho’s eyes barely cracked open, still hazy from fever. "Hard to sleep when a fool is watching me like I’m some rare artifact."

Jiwon chuckled. "Can you blame me? It’s not every day I see my ever-so-perfect teacher reduced to a weak, sweaty mess."

Seungho shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual sharpness. "Leave."

Jiwon grinned, sitting right back down. "No can do. What if you roll off the bed in your feverish daze? I’d be a terrible student if I let my teacher suffer a tragic fate like that."

Seungho groaned, rubbing his temples. "I regret every moment I spent educating you."

"Too late for regrets now." Jiwon leaned back on his hands, making himself comfortable. "Besides, I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re actually asleep."

Seungho muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like insufferable brat, but Jiwon only grinned wider.

A few moments passed in silence, the only sound being the soft rustling of sheets as Seungho shifted. Then, his voice, quieter this time:

"You really don’t have anything better to do?"

Jiwon shrugged. "Not really. You’re my entertainment for the day."

Seungho sighed, clearly too exhausted to argue further. "At least lower your voice."

Jiwon smirked. "Oh? Is seonsaengnim sensitive to noise when he’s sick?"

Seungho’s glare was weak at best. "Jiwon."

"Alright, alright." Jiwon chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. "I’ll behave."

A beat of silence.

Then, just to test his luck, he added, "For now."

Seungho let out the heaviest sigh yet, turning his back to Jiwon as if that alone could shut him out.

Jiwon only laughed, leaning against the bedpost. He had a feeling he’d be here for a while.

And, oddly enough, he didn’t mind.

Jiwon stretched his arms, his stomach growling in protest. He had been so preoccupied with Seungho’s fever that he completely forgot about breakfast.

"No wonder I feel like I’m dying too."

With a sigh, he made his way to the kitchen, where the maids were already bustling about. He leaned lazily against the counter, flashing his usual grin.

"Hey, could you make some porridge? Something easy on the stomach."

One of the older maids gave him a knowing look. "For Master Seungho?"

Jiwon placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. "And for me! You think I’m selfless enough to starve for his sake?"

The maid chuckled. "I’m surprised you’re looking after him at all, Your Highness. You always used to complain about his lessons."

Jiwon grinned. "That’s different. He tortured me with studies. I’m just returning the favor by making sure he eats something."

The maids laughed, shaking their heads as they got to work.

A little while later, a steaming bowl of porridge was handed to him. Jiwon took a deep breath, savoring the warmth against his hands before making his way back to Seungho’s chamber.

When he entered, Seungho was still in bed, half-awake and looking vaguely irritated—probably at the mere fact that he was still sick.

Jiwon set the tray down beside the bed, taking a seat. "Alright, time to eat."

Seungho barely glanced at the bowl. "I’m not hungry."

Jiwon narrowed his eyes. "Oh no, you are eating. I didn’t go all the way to the kitchen for you to be difficult about this."

"I—"

Before Seungho could argue, Jiwon dipped the spoon into the porridge, scooped up a portion, and held it up expectantly.

Seungho stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding you, obviously." Jiwon smirked. "You don’t have the energy to argue, so just accept your fate and open up."

Seungho looked like he was debating between throwing Jiwon out the window or simply accepting defeat. In the end, he sighed, reluctantly parting his lips.

Jiwon grinned triumphantly as he carefully fed him the spoonful. "See? Not so bad, right?"

Seungho chewed slowly, his expression unreadable. "...It’s tolerable."

Jiwon gasped dramatically. "That almost sounded like a compliment. Should I alert the royal scribes?"

Seungho gave him a tired glare, but there was no real heat in it.

Jiwon continued feeding him, taking bites for himself in between. "I feel like a mother bird, feeding her weak little chick."

"Jiwon."

"Ah, no need to thank me. I’m simply a kind and generous prince."

Seungho let out a deep sigh, but Jiwon caught the faintest twitch of his lips—like he was holding back a smile.

That was enough of a victory for Jiwon.

Jiwon scooped up another spoonful, blowing on it slightly before guiding it toward Seungho’s lips. This time, Seungho didn’t hesitate as much—though he still looked mildly annoyed, which only made Jiwon grin wider.

"You know," Jiwon said, watching Seungho chew, "for someone who was so adamant about not eating, you’re sure going along with this pretty well."

Seungho huffed, swallowing. "I’m only eating so you’ll stop bothering me."

Jiwon leaned his chin on his hand, smirking. "No, I think you’re actually enjoying this."

Seungho’s eyes narrowed. "I am not."

Jiwon clicked his tongue. "Deny it all you want, seonsaengnim, but the fact that you’re letting me take care of you instead of throwing me out means you must like it at least a little bit."

Seungho sighed, clearly too tired to keep arguing. Instead, he reached for the bowl himself, but Jiwon was quicker.

"Ah, ah, ah—" Jiwon tsked, pulling it away. "I’m the one feeding you, remember?"

Seungho gave him an unimpressed look but said nothing as Jiwon brought another spoonful to his lips. He took the bite, though this time, a tiny smudge of porridge was left at the corner of his mouth.

Jiwon noticed immediately, and before he could think twice, he reached out, his thumb swiping gently across Seungho’s lips to wipe it away.

The room suddenly felt quieter.

Seungho froze at the unexpected touch, his dark eyes locking onto Jiwon’s. For a moment, neither of them moved—Jiwon’s thumb still lightly resting against Seungho’s lower lip. His skin was warm, feverish, and his lips… softer than Jiwon expected.

Jiwon swallowed, his voice dropping slightly. "You’re a mess, seonsaengnim."

Seungho didn’t reply, his breath subtly uneven.

Realizing what he was doing, Jiwon quickly pulled his hand back, clearing his throat to break the tension. He picked up the bowl again, grinning—though it felt slightly forced now.

"Alright, let’s finish this before you fall asleep on me."

Seungho exhaled, as if regaining control of himself, before looking away. "Just hurry up."

Jiwon chuckled. "Yes, yes, Dear Master."

But even as he continued feeding Seungho, his mind kept replaying that brief touch, the way Seungho had looked at him, the way his lips had felt beneath his fingers.

And for once, Jiwon found himself at a loss for words.