"P'Jimmy?!"

Sea pushed the door open in a panic.

The office, usually tidy and pristine under white lights, was now in disarray. A ceramic mug had rolled to the floor, its spilled contents soaking into the polished tiles. Beside the desk, Jimmy was leaning against the wall, one arm clutching his stomach, sweat beading on his forehead.

"What happened?!" Sea rushed to his side, grabbing his shoulder, his voice trembling.

Jimmy frowned, gritting his teeth. "Stomach... pain. I forgot to eat... something today..."

Sea quickly helped him over to the couch near the bookshelf, gently lowering him down. His hands trembled, but he forced himself to stay calm. He poured a fresh cup of warm water from the water dispenser and placed it on the side table. His voice was firm, despite the worry in his eyes.

"Drink this first. Where do you keep your medicine?"

"First drawer... left side of my desk."

Sea dashed to the desk, yanked open the drawer. Thankfully, the stomach medicine still had two tablets left. He grabbed them and returned with another glass of water.

Jimmy took the medicine without a word. One hand pressed to his forehead, the other lightly gripping the cup. His breathing was shallow, but he didn't groan or complain.

No pride. No chill in his demeanor.

Just a man exhausted, enduring a familiar pain alone.

He closed his eyes, breathing slowly. The sweat on his brow dried, and the sharpness of the pain seemed to fade bit by bit.

"Thanks," Jimmy said hoarsely, his voice rough but still composed. "You should head home. It's late."

Sea hesitated. He wanted to say he wasn't tired, wasn't busy—that he wanted to stay. But instead, he simply nodded.

"Yes, Phi. I'll head out now. Please rest well."

Leaving the office, Sea didn't turn left toward home. Instead, he turned right, gripping the now-empty blister pack of Jimmy's medicine.

Less than ten minutes later, Sea stood in front of a 24-hour pharmacy nearby. He held out the empty pack to the pharmacist.

"Can I get another strip of this? And some antacids too, please. Something that is fast-acting. He... gets stomach issues often."

The pharmacist asked a few more questions, and Sea answered honestly, like he was buying for someone in his family. With a small bag of medicine in hand, he took a turn past the corner near the office building and ducked into a late-night porridge shop—small, clean, and known for serving hot food even at this hour.

"One minced pork porridge, please. Add a century egg, and extra scallions and ginger."

With everything gathered—medicine, warm food, and his heart full of quiet intention—Sea returned to Kumaumi. By the time he reached the eighth floor again, the hallway lights had dimmed into nighttime mode. The harsh white lights had softened into a warm golden glow, turning the space into something gentler, calmer, almost like a dream.

Sea gently pushed open the office door.

Jimmy had fallen asleep.

He sat slumped on the couch, arms crossed, head tilted slightly to one side. Under the soft yellow light, the sharpness that usually defined his face had faded. His hair had fallen loosely across his forehead, and the high bridge of his nose and delicate features looked less intimidating, more human. His lips were pressed gently together—no sarcastic smirk, no cool stare.

Sea stood there quietly.

His chest ached—not from pain, but from something tender and aching. Compassion.

Even the strongest can collapse from exhaustion.

He placed the bag of medicine beside the now-cold glass of water on the table, then carefully unwrapped the hot porridge. After a moment's thought, he returned to his desk, grabbed the small bottle of honey he always kept with him, and stepped back into the office.

He stirred a spoonful of honey into another cup of warm water, moving slowly, carefully, so as not to wake the man asleep on the sofa.

He set it on the coffee table along with the food and medicine. Now, on the table sat one steaming bowl of porridge, one cup of honeyed water, and a bag of medicine—ordinary things, yet carrying everything Sea had to offer.

Then, quietly, Sea sat down on the chair across from Jimmy.

He looked at him—at that strong figure who now, in sleep, seemed quietly vulnerable. No longer the star high above from three years ago. Sea had never seen Jimmy like this before: tired, unguarded, and so very human.

Memories rushed in.

Three years ago, Sea had fainted from low blood sugar. When he woke up, it was Jimmy standing there, handing him a cup of warm water, saying gently, "From now on, make sure to eat properly before running yourself ragged."

And now, three years later, it was still Jimmy. But this time, he was the one in need of the water. And Sea—the boy who once received it—was now the one offering it back.

Sea smiled quietly at the coincidence.

"P'Jimmy..." he whispered, as if only for himself.

There were so many things he wanted to say. That he had worked so hard to become a better version of himself. That for the first time, he had stepped out of his comfort zone to move closer to a star like him.

But in the end, all of those emotions collapsed into one simple sentence:

"Sleep well."

Just two short words—but they carried three years of quiet devotion.

Then, he stood up. A sudden chill from the air conditioning made him shiver, and he quickly returned to his desk to retrieve the thin blanket he always kept nearby. Returning to Jimmy's office, he gently draped it over him.

Afterward, he bent down to pick up the fallen ceramic mug and cleaned up as quietly as possible, leaving everything neat and spotless.

Finally, Sea stepped out and closed the door behind him.

What he didn't know was that—at the very moment the door clicked shut—Jimmy slowly opened his eyes.

His gaze wasn't cold, not like during the day. It simply lingered on the closed door. And in that silence, something shifted in his expression—a soft crack in the ice surrounding his heart.

He sat quietly for a long while, then looked down at the things Sea had left on the table, lined up neatly.

A soft smile tugged at his lips.

He opened the porridge container. Its gentle aroma filled the room. He tasted a spoonful—it was still warm. The boy must have run, just to make it back in time with it.

He sat still, soaking in the silence.

And then... he chuckled.

Softly. Barely audible.

But it was real.

This... might be the warmest meal Jimmy had had in years.