Y/N's POV
I placed his luggage by the corner of the room and carefully unzipped it.
Pulled out his pajamas — soft cotton ones, folded neatly — and laid them on the bed like a maid from a five-star hotel.
Then to the bathroom. His skincare — luxury brands lined up like soldiers.
I arranged them just how he likes it: toner, serum, eye cream, moisturiser.
"Tch, diva," I muttered under my breath with a tiny smirk.
Then I did a quick sweep — windows locked, bathroom clean, no hidden cameras or monsters. Spy mode: activated.
"All clear," I whispered dramatically to myself with a tiny khek khek khek laugh.
I was about to tiptoe my way out when—
"Witch. My sipper."
His voice — half muffled, half lazy.
I dug into my tote bag and pulled it out.
The water inside was nearly gone.
"Of course…" I sighed.
I walked over to the kettle in the room, filled it, and boiled the water. Waited for it to cool to the exact temperature he preferred — because no, lukewarm won't do for His Highness the Devil Boss.
I poured it in carefully, screwed the lid tight, and turned around—
—but he was already asleep.
He had slouched into the bed, head tilted back, one hand lazily resting on his stomach.
Hair still a little wet from the beach wind. Lips slightly parted. Chest rising and falling softly.
For a second… just a second… I didn't see the arrogant star, or the cold, teasing guy.
Just a boy…Tired….Alone….Unaware.
I quietly placed the sipper on the table beside him and turned to leave
As I turned to leave, a warm hand suddenly wrapped around my wrist.
"My sipper," he murmured, voice hoarse.
I looked back.
He wasn't fully awake—eyes barely open, lips dry.
I reached for the bottle again and gently placed it into his hand.
His fingers brushed against mine.
Too warm.
Way too warm.
My brows furrowed.
Without thinking, I placed the back of my hand on his forehead.
"You're burning up…" I whispered.
His skin radiated heat like a feverish furnace.
"You've got a fever..."
He blinked lazily, a soft breath escaping his mouth.
"It's okay," he muttered, eyes shutting again. "I'll feel better if I just rest more."
He tried to let go of the sipper, but I steadied it in his hand.
"Idiot…" I mumbled under my breath.
"You worked the whole day under the sun, then the sea wind, and didn't even change properly after coming back…"
His brows twitched slightly at my scolding, like a grumpy child pretending to sleep.
I walked to the bathroom, grabbed a clean towel, soaked it in cool water, and came back.
He was lying down now, one arm over his eyes.
I sat beside him quietly and gently placed the damp towel on his forehead.
He didn't open his eyes.
But he whispered again,
"You still smell like coffee…"
I blinked.
"What?"
"It's not bad."
Silence again.
And this time, I didn't speak.
I just sat there, watching him fall into sleep — the towel on his forehead, the sipper beside him, and my thoughts suddenly louder than ever.
My thoughts were spinning.
He looked too tired. His body gave out today — but when?
When I came early this morning, he was already up.
Hair still damp from a shower, already dressed, already acting like his usual smug self.
And then… he drove all the way here, didn't let me take the wheel even once.
Did he even sleep last night?
Was he restless like me?
Or does he just… push himself like this every day?
I looked at him now — lying on that bed, pale under the dim lamp, breath slow but heavy.
The towel on his forehead was already turning warm.
I stood up again, returned to the bathroom, and refreshed it.
This time, I pressed it gently against his skin and lingered just a second longer.
Why do you act like you're made of steel, Rabin Angeles?
You're human too…
I sat back quietly on the chair beside the bed.
Maybe just for a few minutes.
Just to make sure his fever went down.
Just to—
…
I don't even remember when my eyes gave in.But next thing I knew…
Morning light was slipping in through the curtain cracks — and I was still there.
Still beside him.
Rabin's POV
My head felt lighter. The heat behind my eyes was gone.I slowly blinked myself awake, the ceiling fan spinning lazily above.
Everything was quiet.
Except— Something was warm… near me.
I turned my head slowly , There she was.
Y/N.
Asleep.
Her arms were folded on the edge of the bed, her head resting sideways against them. Her body was half-curled in the chair she must've dragged close.
Her breathing was soft, and strands of her hair gently swayed with every exhale.
She fell asleep like that?
My gaze drifted to the towel now tossed beside me — probably slipped off in the night.
The sipper was still there too, on the bedside table, lid sealed tight like she made sure nothing spilled.
She didn't even leave.
Did she stay up?
I raised my hand slowly, hesitating for a second, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She stirred slightly but didn't wake.
My lips twitched… again with that unfamiliar smile.
"You're the stubborn one," I whispered softly, barely audible.
And for once, I didn't say it like an insult.
I shifted carefully, trying not to wake her, but winced a little.
Still a bit sore.
But better.
Because of her.
My eyes drifted back to her.
There she was — sleeping uncomfortably just to make sure I was okay.
No makeup. No sarcasm. Just… quiet.
Real.
And for the first time in years, I didn't feel like a celebrity or a brand.
I just felt human.
Y/N's POV
The morning sun crept in through the curtains, slicing through my eyelids until I had no choice but to open them.
Ugh… why is it so bright—?
But before I could even gather my thoughts, I heard his voice.
Low. Playful. Annoyingly smug.
"Aeiyoo ..someone said she didn't want to share a room with me… but now look at her, crawls up beside me like a little puppy."
What the—
My eyes flew open as I sat up straight, hands automatically smoothing my hoodie down.
"I did NOT crawl into your bed!"
My voice cracked halfway, a mix of sleep and panic.
He was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching me like I just performed on stage.
His hair was tousled from sleep, lips curled into that cocky smirk.
"Then why are you here? Beside my bed? Hmm?"
I looked down.
Damn it.
One knee was actually resting on the edge of the mattress, the other folded under me. My upper body must've slumped down in the middle of the night.
I groaned and covered my face. "I was checking your fever, idiot! You had a high temperature last night. You even stopped me from leaving."
He let out a light laugh. "And so you made a camp on my bed, huh?"
I peeked through my fingers and threw him a glare. "Don't flatter yourself. I was just being responsible. Assistant duties. You know."
He raised an eyebrow. "So assistants also tuck in their boss and babysit him through the night?"
I opened my mouth to argue — but the words got stuck in my throat.
Because…
Maybe I did care a little more than I should.
And the worst part?
He saw it.
"Whatever," I mumbled, standing up quickly. "Your fever's probably gone now. I'll get your breakfast and medicine ."
I paused at the door and added without looking back,
"If it comes back again, don't expect me to stay. I'll just leave you to die next time."
Author's POV:
She swooshed out of the room, leaving behind a storm of her presence—sharp, swift, and unapologetic.
He let out a soft laugh, pressing his temple with two fingers, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.
"That girl…" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
Still, something about the way she walked away—head high, fire in her spine—made it impossible not to admire her.
He walked toward the bathroom, shoulders heavy with the remnants of a long night. The hot water hit his skin like a quiet comfort, steaming away the weariness.
By the time he stepped out, towel lazily slung over his neck, the room had changed.
The table, once empty, now held warm food neatly arranged with lids still trapping the heat.
And then—
A small note, scribbled in her familiar handwriting, rested beside the plate.
"Devil boss… here is the medicine. Eat the breakfast first even if you don't like it… and take your medication on time."
He stared at it for a beat longer than necessary.
A breath left him—not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh.
That girl again.
Always storming out, always leaving warmth behind.
"Hmm… Rabin, what are you thinking," he murmured under his breath, the towel now resting on his shoulders as he picked up the note again.
She always wants to argue with him. Push his buttons. Challenge him like it's her full-time job.
He chuckled to himself, a low sound that barely filled the quiet room.
But still—
She made sure he ate.
Made sure he took his meds.
"She's all bark until she's worried," he thought, running a hand through his damp hair.
Maybe she hated him. Maybe she couldn't stand him.
But then again… maybe that was just her way of caring.
And for reasons he didn't want to admit yet—
He didn't really mind it.