My dad was in good spirits, bopping by the kitchen counter with the TV set on one of those random music stations I spent hours listening to as a kid. He hooted as one song transitioned to another, keeping up with Busta Rhymes effortlessly and stirring the pot of his signature soup that carried an aroma I'd never forget.

He asked about my day and for me to taste test a small spoonful, still muttering along to the music I turned down.

"I was thinking of flying back home for a few days. I want to check on the restaurant, take Bella off Donna's hands for a few days." He tapped a ladle on the side of the metal pot, leaving it to simmer on low.

"Do you feel well enough to be traveling?" I responded.

He nodded. "I'll wait a couple of days to make sure."

"Okay," I paused, "I'm having dinner with Seokjin on Friday. Maybe we can book tickets for after that."

"I forgot to mention that the third reason I'm going is so that the two of you can spend some more time together." He iterated pointedly, striking down my response as soon as my mouth opened by holding up a finger. "Without you having to worry about me."

I leaned onto his arm, my cheek pressed against his equally as soft skin. "Okay, but I'll worry about you either way."

I'd be thankful for the following day of light tasks, splitting soup into mason jars and washing linens between lounging around the apartment. I spent early Friday afternoon sifting through outfit options for dinner at Seokjin's, items of clothing scattered across my bed and eventually abandoned for an attempt at my hair and makeup.

Heated curlers hung from the ends of my hair and I'd just primed my face when my dad appeared in the doorway, seen through the mirror. He'd been in bed for most of the day, overexerting himself with cooking and dropping off soup to a few of our older neighbors.

"I'm going to move the car ride we booked for later up. I need you to go check on Jin." His voice was still full of sleep. He pulled the phone back to his ear and I could hear it ringing until it clicked to a voice message.

"I'll be over there with him in a couple of hours. He's probably been cooking all day." I hadn't finished speaking before he was shaking his head to disagree, opening his phone to a ride share app.

He pressed at the screen with his index finger, still a little slow with technology. "We always check in by three and I haven't been able to get ahold of him."

When I turned to actually look at him I could see the true worry in his expression, his mouth pressed into a tight line and the wrinkle across the middle of his forehead deepened.

"I'll go check on him." I reached up to the first roller in my hair, unclipping it while it was still slightly warm. The look on his face triggered my own nervousness and I carried it with me all the way from grabbing my purse off the nook on my way out of the apartment to Seokjin's front door, the tail lights of my ride fading from the driveway behind me.

There weren't any visible lights on inside but the blinds were open. I rang the doorbell, listening for the sound of anyone approaching before trying again.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I did my best to deny that anything might be wrong as my dad instructed me on finding a hidden key among the trinkets that decorated the porch.

"If you have me breaking into Seokjin's house and he's making a quick run to the store or something I'll never let you live it down." I warned him as I put in the passcode for a lockbox disguised as a small planter.

The soles of my sneakers were dusted with snow that flaked against the heated floor into droplets of water. I left them by the door, dropping my bag off on the kitchen island and noticing that the only evidence of dinner plans were the slabs of meat thawing in the sink.

I called out Seokjin's name and with no response I felt dumb, standing in the middle of an apparently empty house with no sense of direction. I tried the hallway I'd been down when we visited over Christmas first, peeking into every room while continuing to listen for any sound. I imagined that Seokjin would pull into the garage at any moment and that I'd give him a funny surprise from the middle of his home.

I peeked through doors that led to closets, bedrooms, offices, and empty rooms, moving from one hallway to the next when I was continuously met with soundless, personless spaces.

On the way to the other side of the house I checked the garage, the car I was familiar with, a pickup truck and a covered vehicle all lined up next to each other.

My brow pulled together as I approached the end of the last hallway to double doors that were similar to the style of the front and rear entrances.

I scanned the massive bedroom, larger than any of the apartments I'd lived in throughout the years. There was enough room in the bed that I imagined if I stretched across two of me would fit without my feet hanging from the edge. A single side of the duvet was pulled back, the other untouched with corners tucked pristinely under the mattress. The room was separated by a long bench at the foot of the bed with a gap that gave space to walk before transitioning into an area for relaxing in front of a TV that hung above the mantle.

"Seokjin." I called cautiously, making my way to the other side of the bed.

The curtains were pulled to keep the room dark, a door ajar at the wall furthest from where I stood. Long legs dressed in pale blue pajamas stuck out slightly, Seokjin's bare feet sliding across cream tile so that his knees bent from where he sat on the bathroom floor.

His head tilted back against the row of cabinets beneath the sink, swallowing hard as I squatted in the doorway next to him. The color was drained from his skin, tiny red pin pricks scattered from his neck to cheeks from heaving. The collar and back of the thin white t-shirt he wore was wet with sweat, the ends of his hair matching as pieces stuck together.

"What are you doing here?" His tongue clicked a few times, like there was still a gross taste in his mouth.

I reached out, brushing away the hair that fell against his forehead and taking note of the clammy feel of his skin.

"Dad couldn't get in touch with you so I came." I shrugged, ignoring the irritable tone that I assigned to him feeling unwell.

"My phone is by the bed. I was trying to get it so you didn't come all the way out here for dinner but I got tired, sat down for a few minutes." His words strung together in a mumble.

I shook my head. "Don't worry about dinner." I started to push against the counter to stand but he stopped me, reaching to grip my hand. "I'll help get you back to bed. I just need to grab a few things." I waited to see if he'd be okay for me to go, the absence of his fingers wrapped around mine a quiet affirmation.

My dad was calling again by the time I was out of the bedroom. I moved back into the kitchen while giving him a brief update, grabbing a cup to fill with water and pinning my hair back with a claw clip from my bag. There'd been a few times that I found my dad in the same predicament and though his symptoms were typically minor, light fatigue and mild nausea, I occasionally helped him through more intense sickness.

When I returned Seokjin eyes were closed. They fluttered open slowly and he leaned foward, holding on to the edge of the counter for a minute before dropping his hand again as if deciding he was still too drained.

His eyes followed me across the bathroom to a narrow door I assumed to be a linen closet. It was filled with fluffy white towels and washcloths folded tight and crisp. I grabbed a few rags and sifted through the random toiletries on the top shelf until I found a small plastic bin.

I dropped the bin into the sink to fill with warm water, turning back to the farther side of the bathroom to a corridor that would have only led to a laundry room or closet based on typical homes.

A low light turned on as soon as I stepped into the partially filled wardrobe room. The walls were blocked with hanging racks, cubbies and shelves that held clothes sorted by color and style. In the cubes to my left, casual shirts were stacked just as neatly as the items from the linen closet. I grabbed a fresh white t-shirt from the top of a pile, letting it fall from its perfect fold on my way back to Seokjin.

I set the filled basin on the floor next to him, switching to cold water to soak a couple of the washcloths in before kneeling at his side. He leaned forward, lifting his arms as I slipped my hands under the hem of his shirt to tug over his head.

His hair scattered in messy whisps and he huffed when I lifted his chin, using a cool cloth to wipe gently at his face. I pushed his hair back, dragging the material under his eyes and over his cheeks, using my covered thumb to brush at the corners of his mouth.

He shivered from being half naked, the thin layer of sweat on his neck and top of his back drying from the open air. "Do you want to brush your teeth?"

When he nodded in response I stood over the sink again, squeezing a line of toothpaste across the bristles and nabbing a mouthwash cup from behind the faucet.

While he brushed, spitting foamy toothpaste back into the cup that I'd rinse after, I dipped another cloth into the bin of warm water, dragging the slightly grainy material across his neck and back. His shoulders slumped over, another exasperated huff leaving his puffed out cheeks when I reached for the glass in his hand.

He'd pulled the clean t-shirt over his head by the time I was back on the floor, snappy when I helped tug the soft cotton over his torso. "I've got it."

"Let me help." I insisted, noting the exaggerated way he grunted with every movement.

"I'm fine just," he paused with a sigh, "go home. I'll let you know when I'm better so we can still have dinner."

My tongue clicked against the roof of my mouth. "I'm not going anywhere." I slid across the floor so that I was closer to him. There was a hint of resistance as I nudged my fingers at his chin so that he lifted his head to look at me. "What's wrong?" I asked, knowing that it could have just been a reaction to being sick but wondering if there was something else.

He looked down again, as if the shiny tile under him held the answers in its reflection. "I wasn't supposed to be sick today." He sounded like he was talking to himself rather than me.

"Seokjin," my lips puckered against the hollow of his cheek, "we'll have dinner another day." I reiterated.

"I didn't want you to see me like this." He confessed, seemingly adamant that he keep his eyes cast to the floor.

There was nothing I could say to soothe him, to make the circumstances any better. I'd learn that we'd often be faced with these emotions that couldn't be fixed or even comforted at a moment's notice.

We let another few minutes pass before he let out a long, final breath, bracing himself on the counter while I helped him stand. Instead of moving into the bedroom I took the time to wrap my arms around his torso, letting my hands curl up his back. His tension was evident in the shallow way he breathed against me before giving into to the hug, exhaling by my ear as his arms slank around my shoulders.

Once he was back in bed I excused myself to pick up the items left on the bathroom floor, tossing his dirty t-shirt into a basket in the laundry room. I could hear the quick conversation he had with my dad over the phone, his expression of disappointment that our plans fell through coming off more light-hearted than pained as he was earlier.

I returned to his bedside, long fingers wrapping around my wrist to stop me in my tracks as I was already on the move to refill his now empty glass of water.

His touch slowed me down and I took a seat on the edge of his bed, pleased to see some of the color back in his face. "Thank you," he sat up so that we were just as close as we'd been on the bathroom floor, "I should have said that earlier."

"It's okay, I was disappointed when I realized I wouldn't get to eat that steak you had out to cook too." I reveled in the short sound of our mixed laughter. "Today the universe had something different in mind for us. It's all about timing." I rationalized.

He kissed the back of my hand, his lips spreading into a smile against my knuckles. "Divine timing. Like us. Soulmates." He spoke between letting his lips meet my skin again, using the same tone he had when I first mentioned the topic, as if it were a lighthearted joke between us.

I nodded, saving it for another time so he could rest. As hard as the day had been, I did count it as diving timing. On the other side of his disdain I needed to see him that way, to take care of him without crumbling, to do the hard thing. I needed that more than anything and as I told him, dinner could wait.