(Linna's POV)
It had been a week since I last saw Liam, and every day felt longer than the last. I hadn't heard from him since that day he seemed so vulnerable, resting against the pillows as I fed him soup. At first, I assured myself he was just recovering, but as hours turned into days, worry gnawed at me like a relentless pest. It wasn't like him to just disappear, and with each unanswered text, my anxiety deepened.
The last message I had sent him echoed in my mind: *"Hey, how are you feeling? I was thinking about you."* I could almost see his tired smile from the moment I had dropped the soup by his side, filled with warmth and kindness, even through the veil of illness. But when my queries went unanswered, that warmth was replaced by a chill coursing through me.
As I drove through the familiar streets toward his apartment, memories of the last time I was there played back in my mind—him lying in bed with that adorable, sheepish grin as I poured the soup into his bowl. I had been so eager to bring him comfort that day, believing he'd bounce back quickly. But now, it felt like something more sinister sat heavy in the air.
Pulling up to his building, I took a deep breath, steeling myself with resolve. I wondered if he had sunk into a state of solitude and self-neglect, convinced he was fine when he wasn't. I parked and climbed the stairs to his floor, each step echoing my growing worry.
"Liam?" I called out as I knocked. The silence that answered was unnerving. I knocked again, louder this time. "Liam, it's Linna! Can I come in?"
I pushed the door open, my heart racing as I stepped inside. The usual comforts of his apartment felt like ghosts—his books scattered about, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air, and the cozy atmosphere that once enveloped me was now tinged with something heavy and unsettling.
When I reached his bedroom, relief flooded my senses, but it was short-lived. There he was, curled beneath the blankets, but he looked more like a shadow than the vibrant Liam I knew. The color had drained from his cheeks, and the mess of blankets around him only accentuated how fragile and worn he appeared.
"Oh thank God," I breathed, rushing to his side. "I was starting to worry."
His eyes flickered open and narrowed at the brightness. "Linna?" he croaked, confusion and exhaustion etching his features.
"Yes, it's me." I brushed a loose strand of hair from his forehead, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. "How long have you been like this?"
"I don't know," he mumbled weakly, trying to push himself up but faltering. "A few days? I thought I was getting better, but it just hit me hard."
My chest tightened as I took in his condition, and the realization hit me that I should've come sooner. "You should have told me sooner," I scolded gently, though the tone was soaked in concern.
"I didn't want to bother you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Bother me? Liam, you're my boyfriend. You could never bother me," I said, my heart aching at his reluctance to ask for help. "I've been trying to reach you all week!"
He offered a small, sheepish smile, but I could see the embarrassment creep into his expression. "I didn't think it was that bad."
"It's worse than just a cold," I said firmly, determination flooding my voice. "I'm going to take care of you." Without waiting for his response, I jumped up and whipped around to inspect the state of his kitchen. The mess was overwhelming—dishes piled high in the sink, half-eaten food lingering in the fridge.
"That's not necessary, Linna," he tried to protest, but I was already at the stove, gathering my thoughts as I poured water into a pot. "You don't need to—"
"Liam, just sit!" I insisted, though my voice was softer now, filled with warmth. "I'm making you soup. You need real food, not just toast."
His eyes followed my movements, a hint of gratitude mixing with uncertainty. "I don't want to be a burden."
"You're not a burden!" I shot back gently, my frustration rooted in concern rather than anger. "You're my boyfriend, and I care about you. This is what we do—we take care of each other."
At that, he fell silent, and I could almost see the walls he had built around himself beginning to crumble. I turned my attention back to the pot, summoning the memory of how I had coaxed him into eating a week ago, his laughter mingling with the scents filling the air.
Once the broth was simmering and the vegetables were chopped, I returned to his bedside, tray in hand, and knelt beside him. "Look what I brought!" I announced, trying to infuse some cheer into the room. "Soup time!"
He cracked a slight smile as I settled beside him, holding the bowl carefully. "You really didn't have to—"
I lifted the spoon, disregarding his protests. "Nonsense! You need to eat." I offered him the soup as he took a cautious sip, and I watched as the warmth washed over him, a flicker of life returning to his eyes.
A sense of relief settled over me as he ate, and slowly but surely, we drifted back into our easy banter. I shared stories about my week, recounting work stories, teasing him about all the movies we hadn't watched, and reminding him of our plans for the weekend. With every bite, it felt as though I was not merely feeding him but drawing him back into the light, breaking through the cocoon of illness that had trapped him.
After finishing the bowl, Liam leaned back against the headboard, looking more like himself with each passing minute, though the shadows of fatigue still lingered. "Thanks, Linna. Really. I'm lucky to have you," he said quietly, sincerity etched into his features.
"No, you're lucky I'm stubborn!" I shot back playfully, though the reality of his vulnerability tugged at my heart. "I won't let you slip away like this again."
The atmosphere shifted, a change that felt palpable between us, and I realized that confronted with the depth of his feelings, mine surged forward as well. I laced my fingers with his, wishing to share everything that had built up over the week—the worry, the affection, and the love that had patiently waited for a moment to blossom.
As the sun set outside his window, casting golden rays across the room, I could see the fatigue ebbing slightly from his features, replaced by the gratitude and strength I adored. "I won't hide from you again," he promised, his voice steady now, laced with resolve.
"Good," I replied with a smile. "Now, let's just focus on getting you better, one step at a time."
As I sat beside him, I knew that this moment was only the beginning of our journey forward. Liam and I were inextricably linked, and while the road ahead would undoubtedly have its challenges, I was determined to navigate them together, one spoonful of soup at a time.