LOST ON YOU

7;Coffee drama

I took him upstairs to my bedroom. He was completely soaked, and that would definitely make him catch a cold. I didn’t want that for him. It was already hard enough seeing him like this, and I couldn’t imagine him getting sick too. I prepared the jacuzzi, handed him a towel, and showed him the bathroom. Once he got inside, I quickly changed out of my wet clothes and dried my hair. I just hoped I wouldn’t catch a cold either. As I was changing, I found the steak hammer I had grabbed earlier as a weapon. I couldn’t help but smile at my own foolishness before taking it back downstairs to the kitchen.

I made coffee for both of us. After that, I double checked all the doors, making sure everything was locked and secure, then carried the coffee upstairs. I didn’t want to barge in and make him uncomfortable or worse, walk in on him dressing. He opened the door slowly, and I stepped inside. He was already dressed in the shorts and oversized tee I had left on the bed for him. But his hair was still wet, droplets of water running down from it. Maybe he had washed it but didn’t dry it properly. I placed the cups on the bedside table and picked up a towel. He sat on the bed, and I sat beside him, gently drying his hair, taking my time to make sure no moisture remained.

I could feel his gaze on me the entire time. I didn’t dare look back. That would have been the death of me. When I finished, I stood up, grabbed the dryer, and carefully dried the rest. I’ve never done this for anyone before… not even for myself.

“You should have some hot coffee…” I said, handing him a cup after placing the dryer back in the drawer. He looked at the coffee strangely, and I got confused. Maybe he thought it was bitter? That couldn’t be, I followed a YouTube tutorial perfectly. A little reassurance wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s not bitter… I promise. I don’t like bitter things, so it really isn’t,” I said softly.

“I’ve never had coffee before,” he replied in his usual low, beautiful voice.

“Oh… really? Should I warm some milk for you instead?” I asked, embarrassed. So that was why he hesitated and here I was assuming things.

“No… I’ll just have this,” he said, taking the cup from my hand. He was about to drink, but I quickly held his wrist. “If you’re allergic or something, I can make something else. You don’t have to drink it if you’ve never tried it before.” He looked at me curiously.

“Do you even know how to cook?” That question completely caught me off guard.

“I can always check Google or watch something on YouTube… so if you want anything, just say it, I’ll cook it. Or we can order something instead.” Why did he even ask me that? That had to be the most embarrassing question so far. He let go of the cup in my hand and picked up the other one from the table. “Are you sure you want that?” I asked. He didn’t answer, he just took a sip. I watched him carefully, waiting for his reaction. Then he smiled. Relief washed over me immediately. “

"So sweet… I’ll be fine. It doesn’t affect me,” he said, continuing to drink. I smiled. Why is he so cute? The world calls me the most handsome and sexiest man alive, but have they even seen him? Have they seen that face? Heard that voice? Looked into those eyes?

I quickly looked away, realizing I had been staring. I had even forgotten about my own coffee. Out of awkwardness, I placed it back on the table. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but I didn’t know how. I’m a singer, not an interrogator. Without thinking, I opened the drawer of the bedside table. It was filled with medical supplies. Pain relievers, antihistamines, and other first-aid items all labeled clearly. In case of headache. In case of allergies. For wounds… It made sense. Being prepared wasn’t a bad thing. I opened the next drawer. That’s when I froze. A small note read: “Just in case—” And below it… Condoms. A lot of them. For a second, I wondered if Mr. Chin thought I was that kind of person. Even if it was for safety… why so many?

I quickly shut the drawer and turned. Only to find him standing there. Watching.Did he just see that? “I’m sorry… those aren’t mine… they must have been placed there by mistake…” I stammered.

“I didn’t see anything,” he said, raising both hands slightly, his coffee still in one of them. He looked convincing. Still, I grabbed my coffee out of embarrassment and took a big sip. The moment it touched my tongue, I almost spat it out. It was the most bitter thing I had ever tasted. How did I even make something like this? Then it hit me. He had been drinking it. I looked at him. He was laughing. Quietly. I stood up immediately and took the cup from his hands. It was empty.

“How did you even drink that?” I asked, staring at him. He didn’t respond. I set the cup down and sat back on the bed, trying to figure out what I had done wrong. Then he sat beside me. That’s when I noticed his hands. Red. They weren’t like that before. He must have seen me looking because he quickly hid them behind his back. No. I reached for them immediately. He didn’t resist. Red patches covered his skin.

“You’re allergic to coffee,” I said firmly. It wasn’t a question anymore. “Why? Why would you do that? Say something! Why did you lie to me?” My voice rose without me realizing it. I was furious. More furious than I had ever been. How could he do that to himself?

I rushed downstairs, grabbed a glass of water, took antihistamines from the drawer, and hurried back. I made sure he swallowed the medicine properly, Icouldn’t trust him with his health anymore. “

"Get up. I’m taking you to the hospital,” I said once he finished.

“No need… I’ll be fine.” I stared at him in disbelief. He couldn’t be serious. His skin was getting redder, especially his hands. I knew it had to be itching. But why couldn’t I see fear on his face?