Minho walked into Haruto's room, sighing quietly as he placed a tray of food on the table beside Haruto's bed. The soup was hot, steam curling lazily into the air, but he already knew it would probably go untouched like every other meal he had brought since yesterday. His eyes drifted toward Haruto and his chest tightened painfully at the sight before him.
Haruto was still dressed in yesterday's clothes, sitting against the headboard with his phone clutched tightly in his hand, his eyes fixed on the screen with restless anticipation. Ever since he had planted the bug on Aito's sweater the previous night, he had barely done anything else except wait and listen, hoping he would hear Aito's voice again but it had already passed noon, yet Jisung had heard nothing. Still, he stubbornly clung to his phone, full of hope.
