In The Eyes Of Madness

The white glow of a boutique sign bled onto the damp sidewalk, outlining two figures facing each other. Huyet Minh stood with his arms folded, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Thien Duc. The other man wore only a thin sweater draped loosely over his frame; every gust of wind sent the hem fluttering, exposing his pale wrists and skin washed cold by the light.

"You're really planning to face winter dressed like that?" Huyet Minh's voice was calm, but each word carried an edge of annoyance, laced with something gentler beneath.

Thien Duc yawned, shoulders instinctively curling inward as the wind sliced past. His reply was casual, distant:

"I'm fine. It's not a big deal."

Huyet Minh's brow furrowed. His gaze lingered, tracking even the smallest movements.

"Fine?" His tone dropped, firm.

"That sweater wouldn't stop a breeze, let alone winter."

Thien Duc only shrugged, eyes drifting to the shop window where his own reflection stared back—pale, unremarkable, forgettable.

"I'm used to it. It's always like this. No need to buy more. Waste of money."

A quiet sigh broke between them. Then a warm hand closed around Thien Duc's cold wrist, firm but not forceful. Before he could react, Huyet Minh was already pulling him toward the store.

"It's not a waste," his voice steadied, though it never rose.

"Your health matters more than anything."

Inside, the air was warm and faintly scented of new fabric. Huyet Minh sifted through racks with practiced ease while Thien Duc leaned against the wall, arms folded, eyes wandering listlessly.

A heavy navy coat was suddenly held up in front of him.

"How about this?" Huyet Minh's tone was patient, but his eyes had a warning edge—as if another refusal would test his restraint.

Thien Duc cast it a glance and shook his head.

"Too heavy. I don't like bulky clothes."

The coat was replaced with a light gray one, its cut sleeker.

"This, then?"

Thien Duc studied it briefly before dismissing it with another shake.

"Too pale. Doesn't suit me."

Huyet Minh's gaze narrowed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

"So… what do you like?"

"Not buying anything." Thien Duc's voice was flat, as if to sever the conversation entirely.

A low chuckle slipped out, rough around the edges.

"Nice try," Huyet Minh murmured, pulling two more coats from the rack. "If you won't dress warmly, I'll make you."

Moments later, he was holding both coats up for inspection.

"Here. Pick one."

Thien Duc exhaled, his expression caught somewhere between resignation and irritation.

"I told you, I don't need one."

Huyet Minh's brow arched, his smile slow, deliberate.

"If you don't choose, I will."

"Fine. Left one." Thien Duc's tone was clipped, as if hoping to end it quickly.

"Good choice." Satisfaction flickered briefly in Huyet Minh's eyes. Then his smile deepened, playful this time.

"But… I'll take both."

Thien Duc's eyes widened.

"What? I only need one!"

"One for daily wear. One for when you're with me," Huyet Minh replied smoothly, as though stating something obvious.

Thien Duc frowned.

"Why does it matter what I wear with you?"

"Because you're… not just anyone." Huyet Minh's voice was soft, but his gaze lingered long enough to make the air heavier.

He didn't loosen his grip as he led Thien Duc to the counter. While their purchases were being packed, Huyet Minh held up another item—a pair of matching shirts, understated but elegant.

"Oh, and these." His smile turned almost boyish. "Matching outfits for us."

Thien Duc blinked.

"Matching shirts? You're serious?"

"Dead serious. What do you think?" Huyet Minh's voice was calm, though his eyes seemed to wait for an answer only one way.

Thien Duc's brow tightened. His voice dropped.

"I think… we don't need them."

Huyet Minh didn't answer immediately. He stepped closer, draping one of the shirts against Thien Duc's frame. His voice was quiet, smooth:

"But I think we do. You'd look good in this."

Thien Duc pushed his hand away, irritation creeping into his tone.

"Stop it. I'm not wearing that."

Huyet Minh's brow lifted, his lips curving.

"You say that… but I'm buying it anyway."

Thien Duc sighed, helplessness flickering across his face.

"You're unbelievably stubborn."

"Especially when it comes to you."

---

The street was hushed, pools of lamplight stretching across the wet pavement. Thien Duc carried the bags, his expression tinged with faint annoyance though his voice stayed level:

"You bought so much. Will I even wear all of it?"

"If you don't, I'll make sure you do." Huyet Minh's reply was calm, but the weight behind it left no room for debate.

Thien Duc lowered his gaze.

"Don't do this again. I'm not used to it."

Huyet Minh stopped walking. He turned, his eyes locking with Thien Duc's under the pale glow of the streetlamp. His voice was soft, but steady enough to land like a stone in still water:

"If I don't take care of you… who will?"

Thien Duc hesitated, the breath he drew clouding in the cold.

"I can take care of myself."

"But I want to take care of you."

Color crept up Thien Duc's cheeks. He turned away, his voice almost lost to the wind:

"Do what you want."

A faint smile curved Huyet Minh's lips.

"So you're agreeing, then."

"Agreeing to what…?" Thien Duc muttered, though his pace slowed.

"To letting me look after you. For as long as you'll have me." The words were soft, almost casual, but they landed like a sudden strike, making Thien Duc's pulse stumble.

"Hey, don't say things like that!" Thien Duc turned sharply, his voice near a snap.

Huyet Minh chuckled, low and warm.

"I'm not joking."

Thien Duc sighed, shaking his head.

"You're… impossible."

---

The bedroom was quiet save for the distant wind clawing at the windows and the soft tick of the clock. Thien Duc lay curled beneath the covers, face drained of color, sweat cooling on his brow. On the edge of the bed, Huyet Minh sat close, his dark eyes shadowed with worry.

"I told you," his voice was quiet, but every syllable sharp,

"You can't keep doing whatever you want. A cold bath in the middle of winter? Do you think you're made of steel?"

Thien Duc's lips parted, his voice hoarse and thin:

"I wasn't cold… just… careless…"

"Careless?" Huyet Minh's tone sharpened, though not loud.

"If I hadn't brought warm water, you'd be frozen solid by now."

Thien Duc tried for a faint smile, but it faltered.

"I'm fine… just need a little sleep…"

Huyet Minh's hand rested against his forehead, gauging his fever. His skin was burning, yet clammy with sweat. Huyet Minh's brows drew together, his tone softening:

"This… has happened before, hasn't it?"

Thien Duc averted his gaze. After a long silence, he exhaled:

"I… didn't want to trouble you."

Huyet Minh sighed softly. His hand slid down, finding Thien Duc's cold fingers and enclosing them in his own.

"You're not a burden. If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here holding you like this. Thien Duc… please, take care of yourself. Or at least… let me."

Thien Duc's eyes fluttered open, their dullness softening with something faint and warm. His voice, though stubborn as ever, held a trace of gratitude:

"You're… such a pain… But… thank you."

Huyet Minh only smiled, his grip firm and steady, his warmth bleeding into the space between their hands.

Thien Duc let his eyes drift closed, a weary smile curving his lips. Outside, the winter wind howled on, but here, with Huyet Minh's hand anchored in his, it was enough to let him finally sleep in peace.