The next morning, the light filtering into Nori's apartment was too harsh. His body still ached in strange ways, and the emotional weight of everything that happened hadn't left him.
He sat on the edge of his bed with his phone in hand, hesitating. The thought of stepping foot in the club again—knowing Ryusuke could be watching—made his skin crawl.
"I'm calling in," Nori said aloud to himself.
Eric emerged from the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth, muffling a response.
Nori dialed.
"Hello? Yeah, this is Nori. I won't be in tonight. I've… caught a cold. Might be down for a few days."
There was a pause on the other end, some grumbling, but then: "You better not be faking. We've got clients lined up."
Eric stepped in and took the phone. "It's real," he said, slipping into that soft, reliable tone that always soothed their boss. "I was with him last night. Feverish. Coughing. Couldn't even breathe well. I think it's going around again."
