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A Daydream Away

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - sweet!Yeosang x fem!reader ◄ ► 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎/𝙰𝚄 - hurt/comfort au, strangers-to-lovers trope, romance, fluff, super soft and sweet Yeosang, reader is !mute for half of the story because of the !accident (mute texts will be blue for easy reading), minor horror elements, healing, emotional co-dependency, trauma bonding, psychological distress, dreamscape, limbo, angels, angst (depending on your perspective), open and bittersweet ending (leaning on happy) ◄ ► 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - PG-18+ so MDNI!!! car accident, non-descriptive body injuries, near death experience, nightmares, hallucinations, minor descriptions that pertain to PTSD, mental health struggles, plot whiplash, eventual smut, sweet and slow, cuddlefucking, making out, neck kisses, reverse spooning, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex (DO NOT DO THIS) ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 28.3K words (was supposed to be 13K but eh) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - You were in a car accident, head-to-head collision with a car that swerved when they tried to avoid an oncoming truck. You woke up to an extremely apologetic Yeosang, who you soon realise was the most kind and caring person alive. Despite your protests, he insisted on helping you recover. Soon, sparks fly between you two as you both navigate and bond through shared trauma, nightmares, hallucinations and all, until you start to question what was real and what wasn’t. ◄ ► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - Just a heads up, I cried when I wrote this. That should set the tone for you guys. I hope you enjoy this, this is very different from my usual from my usual stuff. I would highly recommend listening to Ateez's new song, Choose, towards the ending. It's literally the perfect song for this fic, I couldn't believe it. ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 @mallielovssyou @jenluvzen @lovebuggjoy @mingiblossoms @crybabydollette @mustardmilkshake @asesinas @minyunsan-kitten ◄

It was supposed to be a normal day. What is normal, though?

Maybe normal wasn’t an outside influence. Maybe normal was driving on the highway to go to Mingi’s house to celebrate his new promotion at work with friends and booze. Normal was you bopping your head on whatever song was on the radio while you drove.

Maybe normal was more of a feeling. Maybe you were more excited for your best friend because Mingi was the most hardworking person you know and this promotion was something he’s been wanting all along. That was normal for Mingi - when he wants something he goes for it without ever stopping.

What was not normal was how difficult it was becoming to manoeuvre your steering wheel the more you drove. You frowned, straightening your back out of habit to concentrate on the road. You reckoned it was because the rain just started and it always made the roads slippery.

What was not normal was the strong, blinding light from someone’s headlights that almost made you want to raise your arms to shield your eyes. It was odd, how they grew even brighter the closer they got to you.

Or was it you that was getting closer to it?

Your heart fell to your foot with a gasp, the sickening moment of realising that there was a car in your lane and it was barrelling straight towards you with speed so clear that no matter what you did, it would be a lost cause.

It wasn’t normal. None of this was. Certainly not the way you noticed every little detail around you as you desperately tried to twist your wheels and swerve away - the rain being replaced with rays of sunshine like it wanted to highlight this event, the looming shadow of a cargo truck wobbling dangerously on the other side of the road.

The deafening screech from yourself and your wheels could have been louder than the roar of metal against metal crunching against one another, but nothing was louder than the ringing in your ears on impact when your head violently snapped forward, colliding with the steering wheel before your seatbelt yanked you back so hard, you could feel it digging in your ribs.

And then there was nothing.

If this was a dream, you weren’t sure you wanted to escape from its illusive grasp on you.

Because in this dream, you were floating. There wasn’t the excruciating pain that literally stole your breath away from you every time you inhaled. There was none of the agonizing sensation of your bones rubbing against one another like sandpaper inside your skin.

You were in pain out there. There was pain everywhere. The pain was too much; your body was in so much pain that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Here, you felt nothing.

And your head. Oh, that was another thing on its own. It didn’t even feel like part of you anymore, the God-awful migraine plaguing the frontal part near your temples almost split your senses in half.

You opened your eyes, momentarily disoriented by how white everything looked. It was actually insane - everything was literally covered in white. Even the air smelled so clean with disinfectants that if scent had a colour, it would most definitely be white. You weren’t completely clueless, you knew where you were and you knew exactly why you were in the hospital.

What you weren’t expecting, though, was to see someone sitting by your bedside, staring into space with a look so lost, you almost felt bad for them even though you were the one in agonizing pain.

And by God, he was handsome. You wanted to laugh - and you would have if breathing wasn’t so painful - because you were just in a fatal car crash and the first thing you thought was how handsome this stranger looked?

Crazy. That was crazy even for yourself. But then, you froze. Was this actually God, Himself?

Shit, had I known I’d be here, I’d have prayed a little more even if I wouldn’t mean it.

For a second, you truly believed that you were a goner. It would make sense why everything was fuckass white; perhaps you were in heaven. Maybe you were still drifting in that dreamlike state, after all.

Shit, God was exactly your type. Now, you really wanted to laugh, because there was no way someone this good-looking actually existed. Hell, this man looked otherworldly, like he’s not even supposed to exist, let alone sit by your bedside as if he was waiting for something. That’s how ethereal this man looked.

Clarity struck, however, when your eyes finally focused on what’s in front of you. His eyes met yours, red-rimmed and bloodshot, widened with disbelief and something akin to relief and despair. There were multiple bruises and cuts littered across his skin, the most prominent one being on his lips, that bled onto his shirt.

It completely ruined the delusions of heaven for you. If it weren’t for that, you could’ve convinced yourself that this man was at least an angel. Instead, he was proof you were still alive. The nightmare hasn’t ended, it has only just begun.

“Oh my God,” he whispered in shocked disbelief, standing up from the chair so fast that it tumbled all over the floor with a thud. “Oh my God, you’re awake.”

Relief crashed over his features so violently it almost startled you, more than the way he gingerly got closer to your bed until he almost hovered over you. You frowned, your eyes going over his injuries. They were a lot worse than you initially thought, especially his eye which you reckoned was soon to sport a nasty bruise. But how?

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he explained when he saw your apprehensive stare. “I-I’m sorry. My name is Kang Yeosang, I-I was the one who h-hit you with my car,” he stammered, his voice cracking halfway through his garbled nonsense. “I am so, so sorry. I-I was the one who did it, I-I mean, it’s my fault, I c-couldn’t avoid the truck on time.”

Pity crosses your features and if you currently didn’t have a tube shoved down your windpipe right now, you would have told him that it wasn’t necessarily his fault. His hands trembled as he reached toward you, then jerked back like he didn’t deserve to touch you. “I swear I tried, I swear I didn’t mean to. Please, y-you have to believe me—”

It took a lot out of you to do so, but you had to put your hand on his arm to make him stop. You weren’t sure if his panic was worse than the pain tearing through your body, but you sure as hell, in good conscience, did not like seeing man tear himself up for something you knew he didn’t want to happen to the both of you.

Immediately, his eyes widen, his stance springing into action. “D-Did you need anything? I can call the doctor for you,” he said.

You shook your head, slightly amused. You tried to smile to the best of your abilities, hoping your eyes were smiling for you; hoping your eyes could convey your thoughts.

Ah, it’s not entirely your fault. Stop beating yourself up for it. Shit happens.

And clearly, it did. His eyes soften, shoulders visibly relaxing and sagging in palpable relief, your reassurance calming him down even though his eyes still held that turbulent worry about your condition.

Yeosang proceeded to grab the chair that had long fallen to the floor, sitting back on it with more grace compared to his actions prior. “How are you feeling, though?” He asked softly. “I-I mean, obviously, you’re not well, but I just want to make sure you’re feeling better, at least.”

You felt the sides of your lips twitch, your amusement now through the roof. You shrugged, though it probably looked more like a muscle spasm on your end.

Eh, I’ve been better. You look like shit, yourself.

And in some way, somehow, he understood exactly what you were trying to tell him. He nodded, humming under his breath. “Let me know if you need anything else, please,” he said. “I want to make this as comfortable as humanly possible for you.”

You did need something. You had so many questions left unanswered - what caused the accident? How was he standing yet you weren’t? What happened to the truck that he mentioned earlier? How did the truck come into play with all of this?

But the opportunity would come later, because you felt your consciousness slowly slipping away from you once more. Your eyes were lidded, heavy with exhaustion that lay deeper than the bones you knew were broken in more ways than one. You didn’t realise your hands were still on his arm, but they loosened, eventually falling flat on your side.

This makes Yeosang panic, his eyes widening once again as he impulsively holds the very same hand. “No, no, wait,” Yeosang pleaded, sheer terror flashing on his face. “I know you just want to sleep, b-but I can’t lose you before I could make this right, please.”

You blinked sluggishly, struggling to keep your eyes open. And in what’s little that’s left in your consciousness, you realised that he was scared - terrified, even - that if you close your eyes, that this would be the last time you’ll ever do it. He was scared that you weren’t going to wake up again.

The only thing tethering you so far was the warmth that covered your hand. Yeosang was shaking, squeezing your hand as if it would stop you from falling asleep. Before you knew it, a tear made its way on your knuckle. Add your heart to another broken piece inside your body.

“I don’t even know your name yet,” Yeosang whispered, lamenting.

You lifted a finger, wiping the lone tear on his cheek. It didn’t take much effort, he already held your hand on his face, anyway, but somehow, the gesture just drew in more tears for him. You wanted to scoff good-naturedly.

Idiot. I’m not dead yet so don’t cry. You’re too handsome to be crying.

Suddenly, a dark thought creeps into your head. You wouldn’t mind, though, especially if the last thing you’ll ever see was Yeosang’s handsome face.

But you can’t. You had so much to live for. Mingi would be devastated to know that you left him alone. Your newly budding friendship with Yunho that you tried to maintain would instantly crumble. You promised San you’d finally go take cooking classes with him after you both go out of your office jobs. All three of them would miss you.

So for now, perhaps you’d just rest, your hand nestled in Yeosang’s warm ones. You weren’t going to see him ever again, anyway. Legally, since he was the one who hit your car first by being in your lane, you were entitled to get compensation, and after that, he’ll be gone.

It was odd, though. Because the moment you closed your eyes, it was like you suddenly thrust into a world that wasn’t completely yours. You were dreaming again.

Suddenly, you felt weightless, reminding a bit of what it was like before the crash where your body felt like it was suspended in the air before being violently thrashed against the windshield of your car. It somewhat felt nice. After all, there was no pain in the liminal spaces of your subconscious being.

But something felt wrong and out of place. This dream…it felt empty yet full at the same time, and you did not like that. Every inch of space crammed with something you couldn’t see, couldn’t name, only feel.

And it was silent. Too silent. The type of silence where you felt dread instead of serenity. You tried to make sense of it, but unease coiled low in your stomach. And the longer you floated, the more wrong it felt.

Something wasn’t right. Whatever this dream was, you didn’t belong in it. This dream, it was as if it was made to tell you that you were missing something vital; something you couldn’t quite put your finger into.

This wasn’t rest nor was it peace. This was being lost in a place you had no right to be, a place that wanted you gone as much as it wanted to keep you.

You shouldn’t be here.

That startled you. If you weren’t certain that something about this wasn’t right, you were now. That voice did not belong to you or anyone you knew. You tried to look around, only to realise that this vast emptiness was so extreme. There was no up, down, left, or right. Just nothing.

But then, the sound of car horns started to fill up the space. It was loud, deafening almost. It was followed by the distinct sound of metal crashing against metal, tires screeching, bumpers bending in half due to the collision. They were all you could hear.

Your eyes tore open in blinding terror, panic seizing your entire body, rendering you paralyzed, as if you weren’t already. Beside you, a monitor shrieked, your heartbeat spiking wildly across the screen. You wanted to scream, how was it that the absolute nothingness in your dream frightened you more than your car crash?

And then there was Yeosang. He was at the door, shouting hoarsely for doctors, his voice cracking under the weight of his own panic. “Somebody, help! She’s awake, please hurry—”

You had no idea how long you were out. All you knew, that the next time you woke up, you actually felt rested. Everything still hurt, but at least your mind had more clarity to it compared to when you first started coming to.

White ceiling. The sterile scent of a hospital that was too clean. That and there was now another man, a doctor, talking in hushed tones with Yeosang. The two of them haven’t noticed that you had woken up, completely engrossed in whatever they were talking about.

“...two fractured ribs, a broken ankle, and extensive injuries in her larynx,” the other man spoke. You raised a brow, this doctor was good-looking too. Did God take pity on your situation and decided to surround you with ridiculously handsome men after the accident?

Yeosang’s face fell. “What does that mean? What’s going to happen to us?”

Us. Your heart warmed inexplicably. It was with great devastation and relief deep inside that you realised that Yeosang was still here. The doctor sighed, lowering his clipboard before clearing his throat.

“All you had was a concussion and minor lacerations. Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Kang,” he began, voice lowering before he continued. “It would probably be best to wait until she wakes up and see before I could conclude my analyses,” he said. The doctor glanced at you then, and to your surprise, smiled. “But it seems we don’t have to wait too long.”

Yeosang’s head whipped toward you in relief, his body already angling itself to walk towards you, but before he could do so, you were suddenly surrounded by a couple of nurses. They moved quickly, adjusting the bed to raise your head a bit and removing the tube from your mouth. The instant relief of being able to fully close your mouth was honestly riveting.

Yeosang was there immediately, holding a small cup steady, guiding the straw to your lips with care. “Slowly,” he whispered gently as you took a sip, the water providing instantaneous relief on your dry and aching throat.

The doctor was on your other side of the bed, eyes on you as you took more sips, waiting for you to finish. “I’m Choi Jongho, your primary doctor,” he introduced himself warmly, almost reassuringly. “I need to examine you a little bit. May I?”

You nodded. His hands were gentle, carefully adjusting you before he proceeded. There was a small beam on both your eyes, a light pressure on your skull as his fingers pressed ever so slightly, mumbling to himself after as he listened to your heartbeat through his stethoscope. You were comfortable, Dr. Choi was as gentle and accommodating as he could be.

“All good. Vitals are fine, though you did give us quite a scare earlier when you woke up briefly,” he said, leaning back once he was done, offering you more encouraging smiles. “Can you try saying something for me? Your full name, for a start.”

You did, or at least, you thought you did. Your mind still hasn’t caught up, still disoriented from your slumber, but the way Dr. Choi was still patiently waiting for you to say something was very telling.

So you tried again. You opened your mouth, fully expecting the sound of your name to follow. But nothing came. Not a whisper. Not even a rasp. Your lips moved, your throat strained, but silence met the room instead.

But the silence that surrounded the entire room was the absolute overlord. Dr. Choi’s calm face visibly fell and Yeosang paled, his relief shattering into worry once again. The room shifted as they both shared an uneasy glance.

The panic was enough to fully wake you up. You tried again, your throat compressing onto itself the more you tried to force your voice to come out so tightly, your tongue was starting to recoil in discomfort. Agitated tears started to form in the corners of your eyes.

You couldn’t breathe, the ache in your throat was unbearable. Your hands automatically wound itself around your throat that was already wet with your onslaught of panicked tears. You were a pitiful sight; hysterical crying without any sound was unsettling to look at. You had a mouth, but you couldn’t scream.

Yeosang’s hands clutched yours, prying your fingers off from your damaged throat, holding them captive against his to try and calm you down. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, the tremble in his voice betraying how he truly felt. “It’s going to be alright, don’t push yourself.”

You shook your head, staring at him through tear-soaked lashes. The message was clear - that no, you weren’t sure if this was going to be alright.

You snapped your head up at Dr. Choi, waiting for an explanation, anything to explain why your voice wasn’t coming out. He exhales through his nose, eyes softening at your pitiful state. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it once for reassurance.

“I understand that this might be frightening to you, but there’s no need,” he began with a tight smile. His voice was calming, and for a second, you felt the tight ropes in your chest loosen up. “This was to be expected. You did sustain multiple injuries after the accident, which I will explain in a little, including your larynx.”

That you already knew.The momentary panic of your being voiceless made you forget your other injuries and now that the adrenaline had worn off, the pain returned. He glances at Yeosang, who was still holding your hand. “Would you like Mr. Kang to step out for a bit?”

It was your turn to hold Yeosang’s hands in yours. It was a subconscious gesture. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t want to be alone. Yeosang’s relief was visible, he didn’t want to leave the room either. Dr. Choi nodded, proceeding to grab a nearby chair to sit on.

“To put it simply, the collision fractured two of your ribs on the left side of your thoracic cage,” he began, crouching a little so he could be at your eye level. “They didn’t fully break, perhaps a crack. Your airbags absorbed most of the impact, but breathing and moving around might be painful. They’ll heal on their own with ample rest, but we’ll still monitor them just in case.”

You let out a sharp breath. Well, that explained why your bones felt like they were grinding against each other inside your chest like rusty, poorly oiled machinery. That small gasp was painful, further emphasizing what Dr. Choi had just explained.

“Now, your ankle,” he paused, twisting a little to grab something from the table right behind him - a skeletal model of a foot. “That’s a different story.”

He grabs a pen, inching the plastic foot a bit closer to you. “It’s a bit complicated. You’ve sustained what we call a fracture dislocation that’s bordering on an avulsion fracture in between your talus bone and tibia right here,“ he paused, pointing his pen in an odd location on the foot above your ankle.

“In layman’s terms,” he put the foot model down, voice softening further yet still professional in his stance. “Not only did you break your ankle, but you also tore the joint off of the ligaments. We’ve stabilised it with a cast to ensure proper alignment as it heals. No walking or putting any weight on it for a month or so, and you will need physical therapy after the initial healing.”

Dr. Choi was patient as he waited for the diagnoses to sink in, which you appreciated. Wait as he might, you don’t think it ever will. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Your hold on Yeosang’s hands tightened, clinging to the doctor’s words like they were the only lifeline left.

“And her voice?” Yeosang asked the most difficult question that was burning in your head. “Why can’t she talk?”

Dr. Choi hummed, his face perking up significantly. “It might not seem like it, but this is the silver lining. Your voice loss isn’t permanent.”

You looked at Dr. Choi, forcing yourself to breathe in slower as hope started to fill your lungs. “We think that the airbag might have compressed your neck a little too much,” he said. “It caused a laryngeal contusion resulting in aphonia, hence the voice loss. It will take time and patience, but your voice will come back. We’ll wait to see if you also need speech therapy.”

A small board and felt-tip pen landed on your lap. You stared at it like an idiot. “Go on,” Dr. Choi encouraged kindly, soothing your worries. “I need to know if you also have memory lapses and if you could tell me if you have more pain. What’s your name and how old are you?”

Your hands were shaking terribly as you grabbed the pen, and your movements stuttered for a second the moment the pen hit the board as if you’ve forgotten how to write. Eventually, the letters came together, albeit crooked with how wretched your penmanship had become for now.

L/N Y/N. I just turned 21 last week.

Yeosang leaned closer. His eyes widened as he read it. “Y/N,” he whispered under his breath so low, you were sure you were the only one who heard it. “You’re my age.”

He whispered your name again. It was the first time he’s ever truly known your name, after all. It struck something deep inside you, and your throat ached. It wasn’t because of your injury this time - you just wanted to hear him say your name again.

Dr. Choi’s lips curved into a pleased smile. “Good. Very good,” he said. “Now, I need to know if you’re in any type of pain. Where does it bother you the most?”

You bit your lips, trying to channel where the pain was the most severe on your body. It was a bit difficult since the pain was everywhere, but nonetheless, the answer was relatively easy. After much hesitation, you began writing again, strokes shakier than the last.

My ribs. Feels like I’m breathing in glass shards. It’s almost unbearable.

You heard Yeosang’s sharp intake of breath. You could practically feel the guilt roll off from him in waves. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb in an attempt at soothing you, though you weren’t sure if it was meant to calm you or himself.

“Alright. We’ll prescribe you some pain meds. Morphine allergy?” Dr. Choi asked, to which you shook your head. He nodded, his voice softening into something more gentle. “Great. This might be difficult to answer, what was the last thing you remember?”

Yeosang froze, his shoulders stiffening in response to the question. He leaned in slightly, his worried eyes studying you. You swallowed, mind flickering with the memory of the rain and the blinding headlights approaching you. He was right, it was hard, but you had to write how it was.

Car accident.

“We will examine you for further complications, and I’ll be back tomorrow to talk about your recovery,” Dr. Choi reassured, his expression thoughtful. He stood up, making his way out the door. “You're alert enough, so that’s a good sign. Get some rest, you’re already healing.”

Dr. Choi turns his attention to Yeosang this time. “I’ll ask the staff to bring in a cot with pillows and blankets for you. Would that be alright for you? Or would you rather stay in the lobby—”

“Here, please,” Yeosang responded a little too fast, a little too enthusiastically, much to Dr. Choi’s amusement, who tried to fight off a small smile. And so did you when you saw Yeosang’s embarrassed expression and reddened ears. “I-I mean, here would be nice. Thank you.”

Dr. Choi gave a polite nod, his composure intact despite the amused flicker in his eyes, and left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him. For the first time since you’d woken, it was just you and Yeosang. The silence that followed wasn’t suffocating, but it was fragile.

It was when everything finally hit you. When you moved slightly to adjust yourself up against your pillows for more comfort, the sharp ache on your ribs almost knocked you out. You let out a silent scream, the pain so intense, you saw black spots dancing in your vision. It was pure agony, and you weren’t sure if you were able to live like this for months.

Yeosang was immediately on your side, not hesitating to lift you as gently as he could, wincing when you would subconsciously pinch his skin in response to your pain. Dr. Choi did warn you that it would hurt, but you severely underestimated how much it would hurt.

When you’ve settled, he shut his eyes tightly, his hand clutching the blankets until his knuckles whitened, his other hand on his head. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with so much sorrow and guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered brokenly. “I am so sorry, Y/N.”

You frowned, your eyes softening. Before you could stop yourself, your hand was already moving to push his hand off so you could pat his head, moving your fingers slightly to ruffle his hair a bit, silently telling him that it was alright. He froze, breath hitching. He didn’t move at first, then slowly, he lifted his gaze to yours.

He let out a shaky laugh, one hand coming up to brush at his face as if he could hide how much the small gesture meant to him. “You shouldn’t be comforting me,” he whispered, his lips curving in the faintest smile. “But, thank you.”

You smiled back. Cute, you thought. You grabbed the board again, picking up the pen to scribble your thoughts. As you wrote, you realised that this would be your method of communication with Yeosang for a while. It was a hassle, but you supposed you didn’t mind.

You didn’t have to stay here. I know you’re guilty, I can see it, but you don’t have to stay.

You fought off another smile at the way he tilted his head to read what you wrote. “I’m aware I don’t have to,” he spoke softly. “But, I want to. This is the least I can do for you. I promise to make this as comfortable as possible for you without pushing too much.”

You stared at him for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say - well, write. It was difficult not to admit that it was nice that someone was going to stay with you, but still, you were a little perturbed. You wrote again, more hastily this time.

Why are you doing this? Other people would’ve just written their info down or something.

He frowned deeper as he read. “I hurt you,” he sighed. He gestures randomly in the air towards you. “I did this to you. You can’t even walk or talk, so if staying here means you won’t be alone, then I’ll do it. At least until you’re good to go on your own.”

The warmth in your chest bloomed again, stronger this time, drowning out a sliver of the pain. You exhaled through your nose, the sound of it resembling a snort. You ruffled his hair again, stronger this time with the intent of actually messing his hair up. You ignored his startled expression, especially his blushing cheeks, as you wrote on the board.

You’re an idiot. But you’re cute, so I guess I’ll let you stay. I’m high maintenance though, think you can handle that?

As if it was possible, his blush deepened, traveling from his cheeks down to his neck, but what made you grin was his bright laughter. The awkwardness melted away and the room felt warmer as if this was what you both needed to bridge that lingering fear and guilt between you.

Yeosang was that one desert rose that withstood every natural disaster and managed to still bloom despite everything.

“Really? That’s how you’d describe me?” Yeosang teased, clicking his tongue in faux annoyance, his fingers gently removing the knots from the mid-ends of your hair. “Very interesting.”

Your shoulders jerked, startled at his deep voice from behind you. You had totally forgotten that Yeosang was brushing your hair, and he was good at it. He was so good at it that you almost fell asleep, total relaxation taking over your body, but you didn’t want to fall asleep with Yeosang behind you, so you opted to doodle on your little board.

Yeosang was, for the lack of a better word, a sweetheart. Every gesture he did was full of thought and gentleness. It wasn’t only what he did, but how he did it. He was very soft-spoken, his words full of meaning that kept you on your toes all the time, and he did exactly what he said - every little thing he did was meant to make you as comfortable as possible.

And he was so attentive. He adjusted your pillows every few hours, making sure your head wasn’t strained, smoothing the sheets so you didn’t feel the tug of fabric against your injuries. When the pain flared and your breathing grew uneven, he’d notice before you even picked up the marker.

You did feel bad, wishing all the time that you could at least speak to him. You were at a point where you didn’t know what to do without Yeosang’s constant and steady presence. There were times where he had to leave to handle his personal life outside the four corners of your hospital room, and during those times, loneliness would creep in.

Your ribs were starting to feel better, most of the severe pain and swelling having subsided by then. And right now with the way he brushed your hair patiently as he sat behind you, it had almost made you fall asleep.

You tilted your head just enough to glance up at him, narrowing your eyes in a playful glare. It might have been a mistake on your end. Yeosang’s face was so close to yours, his gleaming eyes trained on yours, one brow raised lightheartedly in challenge. You smirked, scrawling messily on your board before raising it up to show him. Stop snooping on me, you creep. That feels good, by the way. I’m sleepy.

He smiled, the kind that softened every line on his handsome, delicate face, and continued to brush your hair in the sweetest, gentlest way possible. He was careful with it, too, especially since you haven’t had the strength to even groom yourself so there were plenty of knots.

“I’m very happy that this is relaxing for you,” he chuckled, the sound of it traveling and warming your chest. He gathered some of your hair, tucking them carefully behind your ears. “I did notice that you preferred your hair away from your face.”

Despite your body going lax and relaxing against his, your eyes softened before you closed them. God, you adored this man; this man who had technically almost sent you to your maker and was now brushing your hair as if he cherished you. You nodded, pretty much telling him that he was correct in his observation and he made a pleased sound behind his throat.

Because he wasn’t wrong. You did prefer your hair contained and styled because it was quite long and thick especially now that summer was approaching. You tried to push down these feelings as you felt his fingers massage your scalp, opting to scribble on your board before you actually fell asleep.

What about you, though? You were injured, too. How are you feeling?

When you tilted the board up for him, his brushing slowed. His eyes flicked down at the words, then back to you. “I’m fine,” he hummed, giving the brush one last pass before setting it on the table.

You turned back, giving him an unimpressed look, to which he laughed. “Don’t give me that look,” he chuckled. “I’m serious. Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

You rolled your eyes, elbowing him slightly, careful not to jostle too much because the tiniest movements still hurt your ribs a lot and your broken ankle doesn’t really leave you too much room to move and do anything else in particular.

It doesn’t escape your attention how Yeosang stretches his arms, wincing a little because he was trying very hard to stay still behind you so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt you. That warmth in your gut comes back because he doesn’t complain, his focus entirely on you and you only.

Yeosang, you scribbled on the board, with him watching as you wrote. I don’t want you to sacrifice your own comfort for me like this. You have to recover, too. You can just visit me from time to time.

“I know,” he said. “But I like being here. Does it bother you?”

No, definitely not. We practically just met, I’m just really curious on why you’re here, that’s all.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, playing with your hair as he hummed here and there while he thought of how he was going to reply to you. Finally, he gives the most nonchalant shrug you’ve ever seen him do. “I don’t know.”

You gave him an incredulous look, blinking at him repeatedly as if to tell him, you don’t know?

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he sighed, his fingers alternating between playing with your hair and massaging your scalp. “I mean, I did initially feel bad for what I did to you, but I genuinely like your presence. There’s something pulling me towards you and I can’t explain what it is.”

You paused. Maybe that’s what it was. You’ve always believed that friendship does take time, that it was something that naturally formed between two people, but with Yeosang? It was like there was an invisible force tying the two of you. Maybe it was the shared trauma of almost dying, but whatever this is, you wanted to embrace it.

The corners of your lips curved up into a genuine smile. I feel the same way, your eyes said. The hand in your hair stilled and Yeosang smiled back. “There’s so many things to like about you,” he murmured. “You’re funny without trying and I just know that there’s so much more to you that’s being contained right now in these four corners. I just do.”

You looked down, pursing your lips to contain the whimper that you knew wasn’t going to come out. You grabbed the board again, not really enthusiastic to write on it.

I’m sorry. I wish I could talk to you properly, I really do. I don’t want you to get too tired of being the only one to do so. Plus, I’m pretty boring.

You let out a silent squeak - one that would have been highly embarrassing if you didn’t have voice loss - when you felt his thumb and index finger firmly grip your chin. You swallowed, eyes widening at the contrast of how gentle he turns your head towards him. You were speechless at how intense his eyes were as they bore onto yours.

“You’re not boring,” he whispered, sadness creeping onto his voice as if he was offended on your behalf. “I would love nothing but to hear you talk, but I don’t need your voice. Silence with you speaks louder than words ever could.”

His words lingered in the air and you found yourself staring at him longer than you meant to. “I’ve started to look forward to seeing your face when I wake up. So, believe me, I will never get tired of you.”

Your ribs started to hurt, but not because of your injuries. There was a rush somewhere in there, something that your chest could barely contain and started to expand into something you couldn’t begin to explain. You genuinely adored this man. If the pain your body was experiencing wasn’t painful, you would’ve almost said that being in this hospital was a blessing.

You elbowed him again, a bit harder than you intended. You were overwhelmed, and if you didn’t deflect, you might explode into pieces. So you scribbled quickly on the board, shoving it behind you towards him with an exaggerated pout.

Yeah, you definitely need rest. Your medication is messing with your head.

It took him a moment to read and he laughed, letting your chin go to pinch your cheek instead. “Case in point,” he said, still laughing. “You’re unbelievably cute when you’re tired.”

You push his hand away, your entire face reddening like a fully ripe tomato that was ready to be plucked and harvested. Yeosang laughed out louder, eyes crinkling in amusement at the sight of you. “Actually, I take that back. Seeing you flustered is actually cuter.”

You snatched the board back at him, scrawling messily on it. There was a small pang in your heart as you wrote, because this would be easier if you could just talk to him like a normal person.

Are you always this annoying?

He shook his head in denial, his smile switching into something more serene as he lowered your board. “No. Anyway, can I try something?” Yeosang asked softly, a mischievous glint breaking through the tenderness.

You hesitated, then nodded, curiosity blooming. His face brightened up akin to a child that got told by their mother that they could go to a candy store. You watched him grab his phone, his other hand reaching for the forgotten hairbrush. You were confused, until you caught sight of his phone, and your heart just about exploded.

Yeosang was watching a tutorial on how to braid hair, his brow furrowed in concentration like this was the most important task in the world.

The sight of Yeosang studying intently just so he could learn to care for you better made your pain ebb away temporarily at the sight of him so pure, you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh, cry, or perhaps, both at the same time.

Safe to say, Mingi was not pleased to see your broken body recovering on the hospital bed, and he was even less pleased when he found out that you had temporarily lost the ability to speak or make sounds.

His jaw had been tight since the moment he walked in, his hand gripping yours like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go, tears glimmering on his eyes when you wrote what exactly your injuries were.

But what made him truly upset was the sight of whoever put where you laid. You had a difficult time reigning in his anger when Yeosang walked in the room after you said you were craving for some coffee. Mingi’s hand was shaking as you held onto it, tugging it from time to time to stop him from lunging at poor Yeosang.

There were a few choice words that have been said, words that Yeosang took in stride. You bit your lips in dismay as you watched his face fall, just taking in every hurtful word that Mingi had sent his way. He didn’t argue, he didn’t defend himself. He simply stood there with that fallen expression.

It broke your heart in two different directions - one half aching for the friend who only wanted to protect you, the other half for the boy who, despite all his guilt, had been the one who was caring for you and filling the quiet with kindness that dissipated your loneliness somehow.

“You know being here won’t absolve you of anything, right?” Mingi snarled, gesturing to you. “Look at her, look at what you did.”

You tugged at Mingi’s hand again, not baring to look at Yeosang’s devastated face. You knew of the guilt he held, and while Mingi was right, you knew exactly what was in Yeosang’s heart. You squeezed Mingi’s hand tightly, pleading for him to just stop.

His hand gripped yours back. “You fucked up enough, man. The last place you should be is anywhere near Y/N,” Mingi whispered, voice dropping low with the kind of fury that didn’t need to be raised to cut deep.

That seemed to hurt Yeosang more than the other accusations that Mingi hurled his way. He drew in a breath, his jaw working before he forced the words out, soft but steady. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up, but I’m trying my best to make it right.”

“Two wrongs will never make a right,” Mingi seethed, scoffing before he turned to you. His expression softened, but only a little. “I’ll be back, yeah? I’ll bring Yunho and San with me. They’re worried sick for you.”

You nodded, not knowing what else to do. Mingi gives you a tight smile, and when he finally moves to leave, he makes a point to purposefully bump his shoulders with Yeosang. It was deliberate and forceful, enough to lay down a silent warning, and Yeosang didn’t retaliate.

You quickly scrambled to grab your board, the squeaking of the marker filling in the silence as Yeosang stood in his spot, the weight of Mingi’s words still lingering on his shoulders as the door shut behind him. You wrote like you were in a race, as if time was running out and Yeosang would disappear if you didn’t get to tell him what you needed.

You had to loudly tap the marker on the board to get his attention. Your heart stung when he snapped out of his stupor, his sad eyes skimming your messy scrawls.

I am so sorry about Mingi. I will talk to him, what he said to you was uncalled for. Please, don’t go, I really want you here with me.

Yeosang gave you one of those small, practiced smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes, the kind that was more for your sake than his. He slid into his usual spot at your bedside and you watched as he put the straw in your coffee, wrapping the cup with tissue so your hands wouldn’t be too cold when he handed the iced drink to you.

It was such a small thing but it made your heart feel like it had been split open. You were definitely going to give Mingi a piece of your mind the moment you recovered, because he knew absolutely nothing. He didn’t know how tender Yeosang was with you, he knew nothing of how Yeosang took care of you.

Because he didn’t just hand you coffee, he thought of the little details you didn’t voice, the things you wouldn’t even think to ask for. It was tender in a way that words failed to capture, like he was stitching your broken pieces together one gesture at a time.

“I’m not going to take it personally. I possibly can’t,” he murmured. “In fact, I’d go as far as say that I’m happy.”

You raised your brows, confusion visible on your face. Yeosang smiles, his eyes fleeting towards your lips as you sipped on your coffee before he looks up again. “Because,” he said. “I know Mingi means well. I’m happy that you have people who care about your well-being. Plus, it’s not like the things he said were untrue.”

You immediately shook your head. It wasn’t your fault, you wrote hastily, it was the truck’s.

He smiled, opting not to reply. It was then when you realised that Yeosang’s kindness wasn’t just for show - it was steady, and it just made him, him.

“Anyway,” he said. “It was a nice day outside, I wish you could have seen it, but you’re never going to guess what happened in the cafe I went to earlier.”

You perked up, your back straightening, nodding vigorously. This makes Yeosang laugh. “Alright, so earlier I saw that...”

You settled back against the pillows, your eyes fixed on him. This is what he did for you even though you both didn’t agree to it. Every day, he would come back with pieces of the outside world tucked into his words, stitching them into stories just for you. They were so mundane, but it made you smile, nonetheless.

“It was a mess,” he chuckled, swirling his own coffee to mix in the sugar that had settled at the bottom before taking a sip. “The barista had misspelled his name, and you wouldn’t believe it…”

You loved it. You loved the way his voice carried warmth into the sterile quiet of the hospital room, the way his eyes lit up when he reached the funny parts, the way he’d pause just to make sure you were keeping up, waiting for your nods or scribbled reactions on the board.

“You know what’s crazy?” Yeosang’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “They just wanted free stuff. I swear people are absolutely nuts nowadays.”

Your eyes widened, covering your mouth, scandalised at the story. “Yeah, I’m serious,” he laughed at your expression, deducing what you wanted to tell him with just your eyes. You quickly wrote on your board.

Did they actually get free stuff?

“Nah, no way,” he snorted in amusement. “It was so obvious what they’re trying to do.”

Good. I hope they get banned or something.

Yeosang gave you a piece of his voice when you couldn’t speak and it made the pain a little easier to bear. Soon, the conversation just ended naturally. He was about to get up, but you stopped him, tugging a little bit on his shirt. “Y/N? Are you hurt somewhere?”

You shook your head, lips pressing into the faintest smile. You tugged on his shirt again, but Yeosang was confused, not truly understanding what you wanted to tell him. It makes your heart flutter, it makes you tug on his sleeves harder, patting on the bed repeatedly.

He hesitated, but sat anyway, careful not to jostle the leg that had your broken ankle. “What are you—oh, what,” he began, but you cut him off by guiding him closer, putting your hand on his cheek while the other pointed toward your thigh; the uninjured one.

Yeosang froze, his face now mere inches from yours. His cheeks turned the softest shade of red, blooming higher the longer your gaze lingered. “You want me to lay down? O-Okay,” he stammered, voice cracking with disbelief. “You sure?”

You nodded, and with that, Yeosang lowered his head onto your thigh. Your eyes softened when he exhaled shallowly, but the moment he felt your hand on his head, his shoulders softened instantly under your touch and the tiny sigh he released made your heart erupt.

Your fingers lightly played with his hair, wishing now more than ever that you had the voice to actually talk to him, and you he just lay on your thigh, his lashes fluttering in sync with the butterflies in your tummy. You couldn’t help it, you had to write something. And you did.

Yeosang took the board from you, laying it down away from your reach. “I wish that wasn’t the case,” he whispered. “But, I can’t say I regret it, either.”

You stared at the board he took away, not an ounce of remorse in you even though you could tell that Yeosang was displeased.

I’m glad it was you who hit me if I was to get hit, anyway.

The physical therapy was grueling. Each step felt like it was the end, yet every time you wanted to give up, it always felt like the beginning of something. Your ribs have healed well, though they still felt sore, but your ankle left something to be desired whenever you tried to walk.

You thought you were prepared for the pain - you had already survived the accident, the surgeries, the endless bruising - but this was a different kind of torture. Your muscles screamed in protest, your broken ankle throbbing with every attempt you tried to make.

There were days when the pain clawed at you so badly that tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them. Days when you shook your head at the therapist and mouthed, I can’t do this.

But Yeosang never lets you spiral too far. He was always there. He was steady, grounded, and patient. When your hands trembled, he was the first to hold them, reminding you to breathe. He was always there to remind you that you can, in fact, do this.

“Good things take time, yeah?” Yeosang would say after every session, his hands softly massaging your sore legs. A soft smile would always pop out of his beautiful face whenever you’d grimace. “I’m serious. It’s a work in progress, we can’t expect perfection immediately.”

Sometimes, you were able to take a step or two, but most of the time, you fell. This time, though, your body actually gave out halfway. You tried to balance yourself as you felt that familiar sensation of numbness slowly crawling from your toes all the way up your legs, but it was too late.

Your body gave out, falling so fast that it surprised even your therapist. Unfortunately, you landed hard on your elbows and pain automatically flared up your arms as you let out a silent scream. It was agonizing, your arms were on fire, like you dipped them down the hottest gurgling pot of acid and left them there to disintegrate.

Your therapist tried to soothe you, but Yeosang beat them to it. He was already down on his knees, his strong arms wrapped around your midsection to help you off of the ground. He didn’t hesitate to sit on the floor, gently placing you in between his thighs to check if you were alright with those wide, worried eyes of his.

“I think we should stop today,” he whispered softly, his hand brushing the stray hairs away from your face. “Tomorrow is another day. I don’t want you to get hurt like this.”

No, no, no, I can’t stop. Not now. Fuck, I cannot stop now—

You shook your head vigorously, the hurt and the pain overtaking the newfound pain that found its way in your skin and burrowed deep to settle in your bones. There was no way you were stopping now, you had to get better. You refused to be stuck helpless in your hospital bed for another month or two to recuperate.

Yeosang’s eyes swam with sympathy. Frustrated tears started making their way up your eyes. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but with all the words that clawed at you from the inside, there was no way to tell him. You hated how helpless you were, but most of all, you hated the way your body betrayed you in your moment of need.

Yeosang eyes bore onto you, peering into the deepest corners of your mind, all without saying anything - without needing to hear what you had to say. He doesn’t utter a word for a while. A sigh finally leaves his lips and he looks past you, giving your therapist a silent nod before bracing himself, picking you up from the floor, carrying you bridal style away from the room.

Your arms automatically found their way around his neck, the tips of your ears flushing red as he walked back to your room. The hospital hallways seemed longer than they actually were all of a sudden.

“Do you know what I see?” Yeosang suddenly whispered, leaning his head a little closer to your reddened ears as if the words were only meant for you. And they were, you knew they were. That was Yeosang for you.

You shook your head. “I see someone strong,” he replied gently, pausing slightly to thank the nurse who opened your private room for you. “Someone who is trying despite all the odds being stacked against them.”

He lays you down on the bed, taking careful steps to ensure that you were comfortable before he sat on the edge. “I understand that it’s frustrating,” he continued quietly. “Believe me, it pains me to see your pain every step you take, but you’re already amazing just for trying.”

You shook your head again, mouthing a strong ‘no’ in response. He held your trembling hand to his lap, pursing his lips. “You’re amazing, Y/N. I’m never going to stop reminding you of it. I’ll be here to remind you of it because I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

Just like that, your pain seemed to increase tenfold. That was exactly what you were dreading; that when you’re all set and out here walking, you might not see Yeosang ever again.

You couldn’t fully explain it. You even dreamed about it every so often. The paranoia and dread of not seeing Yeosang again was intermixing and weaving itself in your dreams that your mind manifests it in different ways.

And just like every other time, the feeling hit you again - that deep, hollow ache of not belonging. Like this world was rejecting you and your very presence was a mistake waiting to be corrected. It was as if your dreams knew that he wasn’t meant to last or to stay.

Because something deep inside you knew it wasn’t wrong. Dreams didn’t lie, and you were terrified that one day soon, you’d wake up from this very bed and he’d be gone.

“Y/N.” You jumped out of your skin slightly, Yeosang’s stern voice bringing you out of your stupor all of a sudden. You stared at him, your chest heaving with breaths you’ve forgotten to take the entire time you were spacing out.

He holds your hand tighter, a silent promise. “I can hear what you’re thinking even if you don’t say it,” he clicked his tongue. “None of that. I am not leaving you. Not when you can’t talk, not when you can’t take a step. I’ll hold your hand like this until you can, I promise you.”

Your lips wobbled. You wanted to swear that you weren’t usually this emotional, and if you could just scream the words out, you already would have, but for now, the best thing you could do was put your other hand up, making a fist with all your fingers but your pinky.

Yeosang stares at you in amusement. “A pinky promise, huh,” he chuckled, raising his own hand, intertwining his own pinky with yours. “Cute.”

And for the first time since the accident, you truly believed you were going to be okay.

Something was bound to change. The anxiety that loomed over you every time you tried to get better hid temporarily from the brighter side of your head. They’ll be back, you knew it, but for now, you were going to push them away.

You started to view physical therapy differently. Maybe it was your stubbornness, but you’ll be damned if you let something like this hold you back, especially now that you had Yeosang behind you every step of the way who believed in you when you didn’t even want to get up in the morning.

Days turned into weeks, and therapy no longer felt like punishment. The pain was still there, sharp and stubborn, but so was your determination. There was something different about today, though. One morning, something truly unexpected happened that none of you saw coming.

You stood. It was only for a few seconds, but you stood and took three steps on your own.

Holy hell, I’m actually walking, what the fuck—

In those few seconds, everything went still. The three of you, though comically wide-eyed, stared at each other with bated breaths. Down you went anyway, but this time instead of disappointed tears, bubbling laughter came tumbling out of your chest

Your therapist had to close their mouth before clapping and saying something encouraging, but you were barely able to hear it over Yeosang’s loud and unrestrained cheer, one that was full of genuine excitement and joy for you.

“Oh my God, you did it,” he laughed in disbelief, immediately charging at you, pulling you to his chest to give you a tight hug. “You really did it, you see that? You’re amazing.”

It was ridiculous, really, how much warmth could come from someone’s voice alone. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning widely. You could feel the same warmth that had carried you from the floor that day to this moment now.

You were back in that dark place.

Not the tragic and anxiety-ridden mindset full of pity for yourself after your car accident. You were back in that pitch black, nightmarish dream you had before you woke up in that hospital bed and met Yeosang for the first time, the one where you felt trapped - the one where you felt like you were intruding.

You vaguely remembered anything from it, but you remembered enough; and the things you did remember, they were terrifying, especially the nothingness of it. You had a mouth, but you couldn’t scream. You had eyes, but you couldn’t see anything but black in every direction.

Then, came that voice. That distant, unfamiliar voice that was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Wake up. Your time is running out.”

You floated again, but not peacefully. Never. You were but a floating entity in this darkness, but you still felt the shivers and goosebumps break out of your skin at that silky smooth voice that whispered nothing but ominous things at you in this void.

“Don’t go too far. Remember, you don’t belong here.”

Your heart lurched, the fear rendering you paralysed if you weren’t already. But suddenly, you weren’t floating anymore; you fell. You didn’t know how, but your body felt completely weightless, and you took the biggest breath, opening your eyes to wake up to a jolt. You sat up, sweat drenching your forehead, your heart beating abnormally fast. But it wasn’t over yet. Something was wrong, because the cot was empty and Yeosang was gone.

Your body ran cold, panic seizing through you because what was worse than Yeosang being gone was someone else standing by the foot of your bed.

It was a man. He was tall, and he was beautiful. He was so beautiful that it felt so wrong. Morbidly divine, is how you’d describe this man. He stood still, eyes boring onto you that were so dark, they seemed to swallow the surrounding light around the both of you.

You froze, not knowing whether to press the emergency button or throw the nearest item at this stranger even at the risk of angering them. When they spoke, the voice was the same one from your dream.

“Heaven’s door is getting farther away.”

You could have stopped breathing right there. You were genuinely terrified now, unable to move from your injuries. The man took a step forward, an unreadable expression crossing their face before they stepped closer and closer to your bedside.

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up, please, you’re scaring me—”

That was all you needed. That voice seemed to cut through the darkness, shining a ray of light you desperately needed. You gasped heavily, and suddenly, you were awake again, but this time, you were actually awake. Yeosang’s tired and terrified eyes searched yours, his hands cupping your face, his voice trembling.

The world spun around you, refusing to let you down on solid ground. Your chest heaved repeatedly and you blinked, disoriented as your heart hammered. You looked around, slightly relieved that the stranger was gone, but his voice was still echoing in your head.

Yeosang shook your shoulders, directing your attention back to him. “Hey. hey, look at me, Y/N,” he whispered, brushing away the cold sweat on your forehead. “It was just a nightmare, you’re safe, okay? Take a look around, you’re in your room, you’re safe.”

And he was right. You cautiously looked around and gone was the stark whiteness of your hospital room. In its place was the familiar lavender walls of your apartment, framed photos of you, Mingi, and San on your bedside table along with the stuffed bear that Yunho gave you on your birthday

Your heartbeat faltered, disbelief washing over you in slow, uneven waves. Yeosang was sitting beside your bed, eyes glossy from worry but smiling with visible relief. “It’s been a week since Dr. Choi had discharged you,” he murmured softly. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still shaking. “It was just a nightmare,” he repeated, voice low and careful. “Your body’s still adjusting. You scared me, though.”

You swallowed hard and glanced around the room again, needing to make sure it was all really there; that Yeosang was really here. It struck you then and there that it wasn’t really the dream that actually scared you - it was that Yeosang was gone and unseen. You shakily reached for your board and marker, writing hastily on it.

I had a dream where you were gone. It scared me.

Yeosang frowned as he read it. He sighed, tucking you back inside your blanket gently. “That’s not going to happen,” he murmured with a smile so soft, it made your heart beat fast. “I promised you I’d take care of you. You are the reason I am here, after all.”

You blinked again, your brows knitting in confusion. Your mind was still a blur, and you were sleeping a lot because of the pain medication for your healing ankle, but slowly, it comes back to you. A week ago, you got discharged from the hospital and Yeosang came home with you.

Bits and pieces of how that happened slowly came back to you. Dr. Choi came bearing good news last week after your last physical therapy session. By then, you’ve been walking consistently with crutches and after examining you further, he deemed you clear to go home to recover in the comfort of your own home.

You watched Yeosang pack his clothes in his small duffle bag as you put your number on his phone. There was sadness at every number you typed, but this was bound to happen - your time with Yeosang was done since your ankle was pretty much recovering and it was time for the both of you to return to reality outside the four corners of this hospital room.

You had grown used to the calmness of his presence. Now, watching him prepare to leave felt like watching sunlight slip out of reach. You handed the phone back to him, hesitating before picking up your board.

Please, text me your address so I can visit. When can I see you again?

Yeosang’s breath hitched. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but you’ve been around him and only him for weeks now to know the tiniest gestures he made and the meaning behind them. He pursed his lips, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Your brows furrowed, writing quickly. What do you mean?

He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll probably crash with a friend for a while,” he said, eyes avoiding yours. “Since I’ve been staying here with you, I had to skip work a lot so I couldn’t really pay my rent. Ended up selling some of my stuff to help with your hospital bills.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Suddenly, the pain from your injuries seemed to hurt less than the sharp sting that ran its course through your vein. All those nights he told you not to worry, all those smiles that made everything seem okay...he was not okay.

You controlled your breathing, hurrying to grab your board to scribble the words you wanted to say out loud to him with such a force that it made your entire body shake, and then you pushed the board towards him so fast that he took a step back in surprise.

Stay with me, please, you wrote. I have a house and I have a guest room. It’s the least I can do after you’ve taken good care of me.

One might say that in technicality, Yeosang has no bearing and you don’t owe him anything because after all, he was the one who almost sent you back to your maker, but you couldn’t just let him go like this in good conscience. Yeosang was a good man who had made a mistake, and you sure as hell weren’t going to turn your back on a man who needed help.

“No, I couldn’t possibly bother,” he shook his head, giving the board back to you without looking you in the eye. “I promise to visit you from time to time—oof.”

You didn’t even let him finish, already shoving the board back to him after more messy scrawling. He was about to say something, but paused when he looked at your glossy eyes, your quivering lips that you tried hard to keep hidden. He sighed, reading the board once more.

Please, Yeosang. We’re friends now. Stay until you get back on your feet then you could decide from there.

Finally, Yeosang smiled, the kind that looked like surrender. “You really don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

Mingi definitely wasn’t pleased when you told him that Yeosang would be staying with you, not even caring a bit when you gave him a piece of your mind about him giving poor Yeosang a hard time when the man was clearly trying to own up to his mistake.

The only thing that cooled him off was San talking him down, telling him that there were more benefits to having someone like Yeosang be with you 24/7, the biggest one would be someone to watch over you since you were still injured at the end of the day. Even Mingi couldn’t contest that argument.

And Yunho, God bless that man, had definitely lightened the mood in the car the entire time Mingi drove you home, brooding the entire time and mumbling under his breath about how dumb this whole fiasco was.

“Let me get you some wat—oh my, you’re bleeding, Y/N.”

You snapped out of the space you unwittingly put yourself in when Yeosang’s eyes widened, You were confused, that is, until you hissed, your hand flying to your ear, and you were horrified. You touched something warm; something that felt sticky and smelled disgustingly metallic. Your ears were bleeding.

Suddenly, your world started spinning on its axis, the walls of your room warping into something more abstract. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that it would help you get your bearings back, but somehow, that just made it worse.

Heaven’s door is getting further away.

Your breathing started to get laboured, your crimson-coated fingers clutching your head, that haunting voice echoing in your head like a resounding bell that’s begging to be heard. You opened your eyes and you could have sworn that you saw that tall, eerie figure walking towards your bed again.

No, no, no, stay away, get away from me—

And then, a different type of warmth. Yeosang’s hands gripped your shoulders, gently facing your body towards his. “Hey, look at me. Take a deep breath, Y/N.”

You gasped, the figure disappearing when you blinked. Suddenly, the world fell silent again. Your world wasn’t spinning anymore, and your walls weren’t shrinking in on itself. Yeosang’s hands gripped your shoulders tighter, frowning at your troubled expression, but all you could think about was what was going on in your head.

What…what in the world was that?

Was it exhaustion? The fatigue that embedded itself deep into your bones? Or was it your medication messing with your head, exacerbating the anxiety that was already there? Or worse, were you losing your head?

You didn’t even notice Yeosang already holding a piece of cloth to your ear, tenderly wiping the blood off of your ears. “Easy there,” he murmured, brushing your hair back to carefully dab the cloth to your skin. “You were spacing out. Was your nightmare really that troubling to you?”

Your breath came out shaky, your hand gripping onto Yeosang’s arm for dear life, tethering him, your anxiety rising as you remembered how scared you were when you saw him missing in your dream. You pointed at the board again, the words you’ve written still there, unerased and clear.

Yeosang nodded once, sighing softly as he wiped the last traces of blood from your ear, setting the stained cloth aside to manually check your neck for little specks, his fingers lingering there for a second longer. “I’m right here,” he reassured in that calming voice of his that never failed to soothe you. “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried, you hear me?”

He grabbed your blanket, wrapping you in it like he was protecting you from the outside world. “Let me tell you something,” he whispered, gesturing to the pillow he just arranged for you. “Lay down, please.”

Maybe this was the dream, because it was difficult to believe that someone like Yeosang actually existed. He was a little too good to be true for you. “If I was actually gone, even in your dream,” he continued. “That would mean I was already on my way back to you, I guarantee you. I’d never leave you willingly, not even there.”

Your chest tightened, your eyes stinging horribly, your fingers gripping the blanket that Yeosang had just tucked you into. “Next time you dream and I’m not there,” he said, leaning closer. “Wait for me, alright? I’ll always find you in your nightmares, especially in those, alright?”

You stared at him, completely undone by how easily he said things like that. You nodded earnestly, a lone tear trickling down your cheek. Yeosang chuckled softly, not hesitating to lean down to kiss your tear away.

He paused, the reality of what he did actually hitting him square in the chest, and he slowly leaned away, the tips of his ears so red, they looked like they were on the verge of exploding. You didn’t dare move from your spot, surprise evident on your face.

“B-Besides,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly chuckling, eyes looking at everything except yours. “Who’s going to eat the crappy food I make everyday with me? You’re kind of stuck with me, you know?”

And somehow, despite the remnants of fear still clinging to your chest, you smiled because he was right. You were stuck with him. And if this was what being stuck felt like, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You patted the empty spot beside you while pulling on his sleeve. He immediately understands what you were trying to tell him, his eyes softening. “You want me to sleep here tonight? Are you sure you’re fine with that?”

You nodded, and he tilted his head, that boyish grin you found cute on him returning on his face. “Why? I already told you that I’m not going anywhere,” he joked. You rolled your eyes, pushing him away before you crossed your arms. You stared at him, displeasure clear in your eyes. God, you’re such an idiot, your eyes said. Are you coming or not?

“Yes, yes,” he laughed, giving in and slipped into the spot beside you. He shifted onto his side, propping his head up his arm so he could see your face. “Good enough for you?”

You nodded, hoping that he couldn’t hear how loud your heart was beating with how silent the world had become especially in the little bubble the both of you had made in your bed. He smiled, the kind that always made your chest ache in the best way possible - in the way only Yeosang knew how to do.

He intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing both your hands on top of his chest. “Feel that?” Yeosang whispered, closing his eyes. “Perfect.”

And you did, you felt his strong heartbeat that was in sync with your pulse. “Good night, Y/N,” you heard his sleepy voice whisper. “I promise I’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow.”

And he was. The moment you opened your eyes, warmth surrounded you, cocooning you in a safe haven only you knew how. It was odd at first, you weren’t used to waking up with someone lying down next to you, but with Yeosang’s chest pressed on your back, his arm draped over the curve of your waist, it just felt right.

And you wanted to make it up to him. It was how you found yourself in the kitchen for what seemed like forever. You weren’t the best cook, but you sure were better than Yeosang. And he knew this.

You were sitting across from him at the dining table, smiling softly as his eyes sparkled after taking a huge bite of the pasta you just whipped up. “You’re staring,” he smirked, placing the fork down.

You scoffed, quickly grabbing the board that has become an extension of your body for the past few months or so. So are you, you wrote, sarcasm obvious even in scripture. His smirks widened and you took that opportunity to write another follow- up. How’s the pasta?

“Eh,” he shrugged, mischief clear in his eyes. “Could be better.”

You were taken aback, but when he laughed, you let out a silent sigh of frustration, though you couldn’t help but smile anyway.

Sometimes, I feel like you really want to get hit.

He paused, eyes taking on a different look you couldn’t really read. “By you?” Yeosang said quietly, his eyes raking all over your form before he stared into your eyes again. “Most certainly.”

Your heart skipped. You didn’t know what to say, your brain was struggling to catch up to your racing pulse. You felt heat spreading all over your face and before you knew it, you were lifting your board, hoping it would shield the wild blush on your cheeks.

Is that a compliment or are you making fun of me?

He took another bite, taking his sweet time chewing it. “Yes,” was all he said, chewing again to hide the smirk on his face.

Yeosang let out a chuckle at your reaction and you knew he wasn’t even trying to embarrass you. He was just so out of pocket sometimes that there were times that you were surprised at the things he said, though there was a part of you that sometimes wished he meant all the jokes he’d tell you.

Careful, Yeosang. I’m not as meek as you think I am. I’m just injured, that’s all.

His grin softened, a hint of something more genuine behind the playful teasing. "I know. I’ve noticed. I noticed everything about you," he said, his voice turning quieter. “Kind of hard not to. You are very interesting to me, Y/N.”

You didn’t know if it was the moment his voice softened when he said your name or the fact that this was starting to get a little too real for you, but regardless, you found your hands trembling a little as you wrote your reply. Thank you, I guess?

“Don’t sweat it,” he said. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “I just like making you smile, that’s all.”

And your heart? It just did a backflip. Well, you're doing a really good job, you wrote as the flutter in your chest felt like a thousand butterflies having a dance party.

Soon, everything seemed to be normal.Nothing happened anymore for weeks after, and you were thankful for it. You spent plenty of time with Yeosang to the point that you had actually forgotten that it even happened. You hoped that it was going to be a permanent thing.

“Does this bother you?” Yeosang asked weeks after that dream, squinting his eyes and raising his hand to block the sun rays hitting his face. “Should we go back inside?”

You were out in your backyard, just soaking in the sun as the two of you walked leisurely, mostly just to stretch your legs so you could get your daily exercise as per Dr. Choi’s instructions. It wasn’t all that difficult with your crutches but it was still a challenge.

You stared at Yeosang, a small smile spreading on your lips. Cute, you thought as warmth diffused inside your chest. Oh, Kang Yeosang. You are something else.

When he tilted his head in a way that the sun kissed his skin, the sight stole the breath out of your lungs. There was something impossibly gentle about him like the sun made him softer. You were sure it was almost deliberate at this point, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he could ever be anything less than perfect in such a moment.

You shook your head lightly, tilting your own head up, hoping that the sun would do you the same justice that it did to him. As hard as it was, you enjoyed this. You spent so long being cooped up in the hospital with no sun so you were going to get as much as you could now.

Yeosang hummed. “Alright,” he said, hovering close just in case you stumbled. “It’s such a nice day today, though. Just let me know if the sun is too much so I could get you a hat, or if your legs feel tired. We could sit down for a few minutes before resuming.”

You smiled, gripping your clutch tighter, taking another careful step forward. Yeosang didn’t hesitate to reach out and steady you. It was a light touch, his fingers barely brushing your arm and you appreciated it. The notion of him being close to help without actually fully helping you just so you could move on your own was worth more than gold to you.

Before you moved, you lifted your hand up, pointing at the end of your backyard to indicate you wanted to go there, and Yeosang immediately understood what it was that you were trying to tell him. Truly, you haven’t felt this joyful in a while.

Until you didn’t.

Because when you lifted your head up, there was a tall man wearing all black standing there. He was staring straight at you, and he was hauntingly beautiful with eyes so dark, it looked like they swallowed all the light that surrounded him.

Terror immediately gripped you, your heart dropping to your foot with maximum speed. You faltered, the step you almost took with your crutch wobbling under the weight of the fear that strangled you, and you fell straight to the ground. You didn’t even feel the pain on your ankle, the fear overtaking every single sensation you were supposed to feel.

Yeosang quickly kneeled on the ground to help you up. “Y/N, are you alright? Your ankle,” he gasped, clicking his tongue in displeasure as he examined said ankle. “Maybe we should…”

But you weren’t hearing him, your ears felt like they were underwater. You didn’t have a mirror, but you didn’t need one to know that all the blood had drained from your face at this point. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, to run, but your limbs locked in place.

Your chest heaved. The world spun violently and before you could stop it, a wave of nausea surged up your throat. You doubled over, vomiting onto the grass, your body trembling uncontrollably.

Yeosang was shocked, but his hands were immediately on you, one holding your hair back, the other steadying your back as you trembled. You could hear him call out your name, but you weren’t hearing him. With no proper response, you felt your body go weightless as Yeosang started to carry you inside the house, all while instructing you to try and calm down.

But you couldn’t. You were still seeing him; the figure from your dreams, the one who never should’ve followed you into reality while you were awake.

Yeosang whispered softly that he’ll be back to get something, but again, you weren’t even hearing him. You wanted to open your mouth to answer, but you couldn’t, and you just sat on the couch, trembling and staring at the distance wondering if the void was going to give you answers.

And you didn’t want to blink. You were terrified that if you opened your eyes again, the man would be there, silently watching you spiral into madness.

Fuck, you internally hissed, clutching your head in frustration, hoping to wane the headache that knocked its way into your skull. Why am I seeing things?

Yeah, that was a good question - why were you? And you would have loved to dive deeper into the question, if it wasn’t for the warmth that suddenly trickled down your neck, that familiar metallic smell hitting your nose.

Your eyes widened, your trembling fingers lightly touching your skin. You hoped to God it was sweat, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t going to be. Blood. Your ears were bleeding again.

No, no, no, not again. Oh God—

You opened your mouth to let out a silent scream, flinging your hands away as if it would make the blood go away. You wiped your neck harshly with your palm, but all that did was smear the blood, thick and sticky.

What’s happening to me? Oh, God—what’s happening?

Your body was trembling so badly you thought your bones might rattle loose. You couldn’t even think properly. Your gaze darted across the room, searching the shadows and corners of the room. He’s here, you could feel it.

But, he’s real, isn’t he?

Stop.

Stop thinking. Stop breathing.

He’s coming.

Suddenly, you heard shuffling from the other side of the room, but luckily, it was just Yeosang. He was walking towards you, concern etched on his face as he held a glass full of ice cold water in his hand.

“Here, drink this,” Yeosang handed you the glass of water, taking your crutches and setting them aside for you. He sat beside you on the couch, his hand holding your arm. “Are you in pain? What was that out there? You look so pale right now.”

You blinked, not really knowing what to say. So you decided to show him your hands. And somehow, that just made it worse, because your hands were squeaky clean with no blood to be found. Not even the tiniest speck. You were horrified, the same hand immediately flying to your ear, swiping it rather harshly. You even swiped the other ear just to make sure.

But nothing. No blood. It was as if you had just imagined it.

The glass slipped from your hands before you even realised it, dropping to your wooden floors, immediately soaking the nearby carpet as well as Yeosang’s socks. You wanted to whimper. For a second there, the puddle looked like blood, but when you blinked, it was water again.

“Y/N,” Yeosang exclaimed, instantly crouching beside you, his hands hovering over yours, unsure whether to comfort you or check for injuries. His voice was tight, but he was not angry. He was never angry, just frightened. “Hey, hey, look at me. What happened? Are you okay?”

Am I actually losing it?

My head…hurts.

I don’t belong here.

You stayed still, wide-eyed, but the worry in his eyes only deepened. He sighed deeply, propping his knees to help himself up to sit beside you. “Look at me,” he muttered, voice firmer than you’ve ever heard him. “Please, darling. I really need to talk to you.”

And when you still didn’t move, his fingers held your chin, languidly turning your face towards his. “Y/N,” Yeosang’s voice softened, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been yourself lately, and I’m getting very worried about you. You keep spacing out, and you’ve been so jumpy lately like there’s something chasing you.”

But, there is. Something’s out there to get me, Yeo. Can you not see him?

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said, hesitating, looking away for a moment before continuing. “Dr. Choi told me to keep an eye on you. Just in case you started showing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

You blinked, the words sinking in too slowly. PTSD. Trauma. Symptoms. Yeosang pursed his lips, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your cheek. “You’ve been through so much. It’s okay if you’re scared. Nothing’s wrong with you, I promise, but we have to take this slow, alright?” Your heart sank to your stomach. He didn’t understand, you didn’t know how to make him understand, because it was real. You knew to yourself that this wasn’t some form of trauma and you knew damn well you weren’t hallucinating. You wanted to tell him that, to scribble the truth across your board, to make him believe you, but you didn’t even know where to begin.

So you just wrote what was currently on your mind. Do you think I’m crazy, Yeosang?

Pain flashed in his eyes as he read your board, the hand on your face lowering to grab the board away from you, holding your hand in his. “Of course not, darling,” he said, sadness tinged in his voice. “I would never think that. You’re not the only one, I-I’m scared as well, you know?”

You faltered, guilt suddenly creeping down on you. Right, you have been so focused on your pain and how it was affecting you that you had failed to see that you weren’t the only one who was hurting. You didn’t realise how tired Yeosang’s eyes actually were behind the cheeriness he usually showed you.

He let out an exhale, leaning his back against the couch, his head tilted up, eyes closed. When he opened them again, he looked at you with a soft smile. “I haven’t really told you much about that day, haven’t I?”

You shook your head, opting to lean your body against his, diverting your entire attention to him. “I still see it sometimes,” he admitted. “The rain, that big truck…it’s all burned into my head. I thought I could forget it if I stayed busy, if I took care of you, but…”

He paused, his hand idly playing with your hair to distract himself from a memory he didn’t want to remember. “But, most of all, I see you,” he choked, voice cracking. “You didn’t see what I saw. You were so still inside your car, bathed in your own blood. I thought I killed you, I-I thought I saw you die, Y/N. That was the most devastating sight of my life.”

Your heart twisted painfully, and he smiled faintly. “I know I look nonchalant most of the time, but I promise you I’m not. When we were still at the hospital and I watched you sleep with your face contorted in pain, or even now when I would hear you whimper or cry, I felt it. I always do.”

“So, yeah, I get it,” he continued. “Being scared. You’re not crazy, Y/N. You’re just surviving like me. We both are. So don’t worry, alright? It’ll pass, I’ll make sure of it.”

You reached out to him, maybe to ground yourself, but this time, you wanted to be here for him - to make him feel like he wasn’t alone as well. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face onto his neck and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his own arms around your lithe body. While doing so, you lifted your pinky finger.

“You’re safe with me, yeah?” Yeosang hushed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, wrapping his own pinky finger with yours. “We’ll manage together.”

And yet, as his words tried to soothe you, your gaze drifted to the darkened corner of the room, and for a fleeting second, you swore you saw a shadow shift.

Unfortunately, it never really did get better. Everything just started going downhill from there on, and that one sighting when you were in your backyard seemed to be the catalyst that broke the camel’s back.

You haven’t even hung out in your own backyard. You refuse to be alone out there, susceptible to whoever - or rather, whatever - was watching you, simply waiting until you were caught unawares.

Nothing was ever the same. You’d catch yourself looking over your shoulder in your own house, expecting a shadow to pop out of nowhere when you least expected it. You couldn’t even blink without your heart stopping every single second because you were terrified that the man would literally present himself in front of you.

And Yeosang. Your sweet, kind-hearted, Yeosang. What were you ever going to do with him? He’s definitely noticed. He wouldn’t say anything, but you’d catch him watching you from time to time, waiting for you to explode like a ticking time bomb, worry lining his features as he slowly watched you spiral into your demise.

Tonight, he offered to watch a movie in the living room with you in the guise of spending more quality time, but you knew better; you knew he was just distracting you. There was no way you could concentrate, not when you keep wanting to look around to see something that isn’t there.

He’s waiting. Always waiting.

The corner of the room, the hallway…don’t look

Don’t—

Your fingers trembled against the couch cushion, nails digging into the fabric. Every small sound felt too loud, too close, and too intentional. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Look.

You glanced at Yeosang, something you always did to bring yourself a little bit of comfort because through all of this, he was your anchor. You were expecting to see his familiar, handsome face, but you certainly weren’t expecting dark and haunting eyes that weren’t his.

Yeosang had kind eyes that twinkled in every direction. The ones staring at you were not his - they were the eyes of the very same nightmare that has been tormenting you and has been the subject of your paranoia.

Before you knew it, you were screaming. Raw, primal, and anguished. It was blood-curdling, the type that scraped your lungs and your throat as it bounced throughout the entire room. You began thrashing, throwing the blanket and pillows off of you to lessen the suffocation.

“Y/N, hey, it’s me, it’s me,” Yeosang’s voice cut through your screams, desperate. He gripped your shoulders, trying to steady you, but you couldn’t stop trembling. You tried to push him away, not even wanting to look at him, but he held on, his hands traveling to your cheeks.

And then, silence. You blinked, and it was Yeosang’s familiar eyes staring at you. His face was pale, horrified, possibly more terrified than you actually were at the moment as he tried to steady the both of you. For a split second, you sobered up, feeling bad because not once have you seen Yeosang this terrified, not since you were at the hospital after the accident.

The adrenaline started wearing off and your hands automatically went up to grab his shoulders to balance yourself. “I-I’m,” you started, stammering your words out. Your throat felt impossibly dry, and it burned as you tried to force more words out. “I’m f-fine. I’m fine. I’m s-sorry.”

A small gasp leaves Yeosang’s lips, and if it was more possible, more blood drained from his face. His eyes widened, lips parting, not knowing exactly what to say. Somehow, his expression terrified you even more. “W-What?” You rasped, throat on fire. “What’s the m-matter?”

His grip on you tightened, impossibly so. His lips started to wobble, eyes softening in a way you’ve never seen him do before. “Y-Yeosang,” you croaked. “S-Say something.”

He stared at you like he couldn’t decide if he should cry or laugh, but that seemed to snap him back to reality. “You’re talking,” he said, disbelief shattering every word. “You just talked.”

You froze. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with silence and shock. Yeosang’s trembling smile that was half fear, half awe prompted you to touch your throat with both hands, realising just exactly what you did now that your fear had passed.

He smiled so softly that it almost hurt to look at him. He leaned his head on your shoulder, slumping in palpable relief before he laughed. He sounded breathless, disbelief coating his voice before he leaned away, eyes searching yours for an answer you probably didn’t have.

Before you could even react, his hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes as if he needed to convince himself that this was real. “You don’t know what this means,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been waiting for this. For you.”

Tears began to spring in your eyes, your throat tightening by the minute, but this time, it wasn’t because of the prolonged unuse of your voice. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you,” he said, laughing through his tears. “God, you’re amazing. I knew it, I just knew you’d find your voice again.’”

He wiped your tears away with his thumbs, grinning as tears of his own started to pool in his eyes. “Say something else,” he whispered, pleading as he rested his forehead against yours. “Anything. Just one more word for me, darling, please.”

You let out a small laugh, though it sounded more like a rough exhale, tilting your head as if to ask him what he wanted to hear. He paused before his eyes lit up. “My name,” he whispered. “I’ve longed to hear you say my name for the longest time now. You have no idea.”

He acted like you were giving him God’s greatest gift. Your heart melted, pursing your lips to muster up the courage to give him what he wanted. “Yeo…sang,” you rasped out.

He closed his eyes as a small, choked up sound rose from behind his throat, his hands tightening ever so slightly around your face. “One more, please.”

You could feel the tension thicken. You cleared your throat, hoping it would help you speak better. “Yeo-Yeosang.”

“Again.”

“Y-Yeosang.”

“Louder.”

“Yeosang.”

He let out a shaky laugh and his forehead pressed harder against yours as if he couldn’t bear to let the moment slip away. “That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s my name. God,” he stopped himself, his breath hitching. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me right now.”

He drew in a sharp breath, eyes glistening, and for a fleeting second, you thought he might cry for real this time. “You could say my name a thousand times and I’d still want to hear it again,” he confessed, voice trembling with a kind of raw honesty that made your heart ache.

And then, slowly, his joy softened into something quieter. “I’m happy, baby, I really am,” he whispered carefully, searching your eyes. “But, we have to talk, you know that, right? I need to know why you suddenly screamed so I can help you.”

You froze, letting the question hang in the air. Of course, you haven’t forgotten, how could you? That sight was something you could never, ever forget. But you had hoped that by your voice returning out of nowhere, it would have extinguished that primal fear you harboured inside of you, festering in your thoughts.

But, you were screwed. Absolutely screwed. When you couldn’t talk, you could’ve shrugged this out, using the fact that you literally couldn’t say anything. That and of course, you didn’t have your board with you all the time, but now, there was completely no way out of this. You would have had no choice but to tell him what you saw.

I don’t want to. He’ll think I’m losing it. Don’t tell him. I can’t tell him.

“I-I just,” you swallowed, your voice barely there but at least audible. “I-I kept thinking about that day and I g-guess I saw something I shouldn’t.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t necessarily a blatant lie either. It didn’t make you feel good about omitting the truth from Yeosang, but doing this was a passable consolation for your guilt-ridden heart.

“I see,” he sighed, eyes heavy with all the things he didn’t want to tell you but visible to you anyway. Not being able to talk taught you to observe more than you should have; things you would’ve missed otherwise. “Rest for tonight. Let’s continue the movie tomorrow, hmm?”

But the way he looked at you, you weren’t sure how to feel about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t take you seriously, you knew that he did, but his eyes were filled with a mixture of pity and wariness about what just happened rather than feeling bad for your mental instability as a whole.

“I’m fine,” you insisted with a deep frown. “I’m serious, i-it’s just a passing thought.”

“Passing thoughts don’t make you scream like you saw a ghost, Y/N,” he spoke softly, pursing his lips in thought. “Perhaps I should call Dr. Choi to tell him what’s been happening—”

“No,” you interrupted him rather rudely without meaning to. You faltered, swallowing before you continued. “Please, I’ll manage, I don’t want to go back in there, I refuse to go back to the hospital.”

Your chest was rising and falling too quickly now, shallow breaths spilling from your lips as your fingers twisted in the fabric of your shirt. “Please,” you whispered again, quieter this time, as if saying it softly would make it sound less like begging.

“Alright, no calls. I’m not going to make you go back. You’ve been through enough hospitals for a lifetime,” he murmured. “Right now, all you need is to breathe. That’s all I want you to do.”

Yeosang’s hand reached for yours before you could flinch away. His voice cracked near the end, but he didn’t care. His fingers stayed intertwined with yours and the silence that followed was deafening. You could feel the pounding of your heart like it was trying to claw its way out.

You’re fine, Y/N. This is nothing. You’re fine. I’m fine. I’m alright.

You weren’t fine. You were far from alright. This was only the beginning and you knew it, however, you underestimated the amount of stress this torment brought you. Whatever this was made you feel like a person who had lost their mind so long ago.

Days blurred. You’d catch your reflection in the mirror and flinch because, for a split second, it wasn’t yours. You’d tell yourself it was just the lighting or exhaustion, which wouldn’t be unfounded, the paranoia was deeply exhausting. But deep down, you knew better.

You began to hear things. This, you could get by because you could choose to ignore them and you’d be fine. It was the things you’d see that were impossible to ignore. At least, the things you’d think were there. Your eyes would always dart to the darkest corners of the room, convinced that something was there.

But there was never anyone. There was never anything.

The line between waking and dreaming began to blur. You’d blink and lose time, not realising that Yeosang would be talking to you sometimes. You’d forget where you were, what day it was, why your mind was in shambles, and why you were feeling this way.

And Yeosang, he started to look at you differently. He started to look differently, too. It made your stomach twist and you’d squeeze your eyes shut. You tried so hard to smile, to breathe, to act like everything was fine when Yeosang was around, but even he could see your psyche cracking and the haunted look in your eyes.

The last straw was when you woke up looking for him and went to the kitchen where you knew he’d be making coffee for the both of you. You did daily vocal exercises so you could practice using your voice again without overdoing it. It was your mind’s only salvation in the midst of losing it, especially the way Yeosang tenderly looked at you every time you spoke to him.

As expected, he was in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he did his business. You smiled at how domestic this all felt. “Morning,” you greeted softly so as to not startle him.

There was no response. Strange, you thought, frowning at the lack of the usual cheery reply from the man you adored. That was fine, maybe he just didn’t hear you. “Good morning,” you repeated, a little louder this time.

Silence. No heave or sigh was to be heard from him, just the particular clinking of the spoon hitting ceramic as he mixed creamer onto his coffee.

You faltered, pausing. You were positive you were talking, positive that your voice was audible enough to be heard. You put your phone down the dining table, taking a hesitant step forward, hand just above his shoulder to touch him, hoping to ask what was wrong and why he wasn’t saying anything to you.

But just then, the sound of the front door opening behind you startled you. You let out a small gasp, your hand quickly going down to turn to the source of the sound. You froze, wishing that you didn’t turn around.

Yeosang let out an exhale, a cold morning air fleeting through the wind as he tried to take his shoes off. He held a plastic bag and a cup of coffee on the other, hair slightly damp from the morning dew outside. A bomb could’ve fallen in front of you and it wouldn’t even compare to the utter devastation and horror of seeing him enter the house.

He looks up, raising his brows, not expecting to see you standing in the kitchen. “Y/N, darling?” Yeosang asked in surprise. “Why are you up so early? It’s barely seven in the morning.”

It was difficult to stop your hands from shaking and your knees from buckling. “H-How did you get outside?”

He blinked, frowning, utterly confused. “Hmm? Oh, I went out to buy some breakfast from the corner. I didn’t feel like making one today, plus we ran out of coffee beans yesterday so I figured I’d get you coffee from there, too.”

No, no, no. That can’t be. That’s impossible.

You took a shaky step back, your mind spiraling into places you don’t even want to entertain. Your back hit the table, your hands holding the edge to stop yourself from keeling over. Shallow breaths left your chest as your head swivelled slowly behind you.

Emptiness. There was no Yeosang with this back turned towards you, stirring his coffee. The clink of metal hitting ceramic rang in your head, drowning out everything else around you.

“Y/N,” Yeosang called out carefully, something you’ve been disliking lately because it made you feel like a lost cause, setting the coffees on the counter and reaching for your arm. “Baby, what’s happening to you? Are you alri—”

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped, shoving his hand away harshly without thinking. His eyes widened, hurt flashing across his face before he quickly masked it with concern. He takes a step back, nodding in response.

You froze, your breathing becoming even more laboured at the horror of what you just did. “Y-Yeo,” you stammered, guilt clawing at your throat.

You didn’t mean to snap at him. God knows you never meant to hurt his feelings. That prospect hurt you more than anything and you couldn’t take it anymore. You leaned away from the table, hoping to just run away back to your room. You turned back toward the table, desperate to grab your phone, but it wasn’t there.

The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stood up in attention. That can’t be, you thought as your chest tightened in panic. I’m sure it was there, I know I put it there. Oh God, am I actually going crazy?

You needed to get out of here, and so, you did. Phone be damned, you pushed past Yeosang, ignoring his worried calls and running straight to your room to slam the door shut. You leaned on it, clawing your hair as tears started to collect in the corners of your eyes.

Your room would be your sanctuary for the next few days. Or your personal hell, depending on how you looked at it and how you felt that day. Yeosang didn’t bother you, only knocking on your door and leaving food in front of your door for you to take. Shame crawled up your skin and it did hurt not seeking comfort from him, but you couldn’t bear to look at him after what you did.

The only time you came out was when you knew Yeosang would be at the gym. It would also give you ample time to do your thing, but by then, it would have been too late to get you out of whatever madness you had already started to descend to.

It started with small, harmless things at first - things you brushed off with excuses and things you wouldn’t even think twice about if the situation was different.

Your hairbrush wasn’t where you left it the night before. You’d find it the next morning sitting on the kitchen counter beside a cup of water you swore you hadn’t poured. It couldn’t have been Yeosang either, he drank water straight from the bottle.

You also found your phone after not seeing it for days after that scene in the kitchen. It was tucked neatly inside your wardrobe, its screen still lit from a message you didn’t remember typing.

Why you? What’s so special about you? Fate binds, never releases, the text message said. Shivers broke out from your spine. You certainly did not remember typing that.

But the worst was when you woke up from a nap - a nap you didn’t even know you took because you could have sworn you were just in the bathroom - and you found your window slightly open, the curtains swaying even though you never left them unlocked. Not by choice because your ankle, which was almost healed by now, prevented you from doing so.

You had no idea what was happening, why things around the house started disappearing or how you blinked and you’d be somewhere else. All you knew, you were scared.

You started taking photos of things before you went to sleep, small proof that you weren’t imagining it. But when you woke up, the photos would be gone. And if they weren’t deleted, they were corrupted. The images brought shivers to your spine.

And if it wasn’t bad enough, it wasn’t just things that started to go missing. The world, itself, started to warp, like you were inside a dream or in a place that you just conjured up in your head. The world was losing its edges, softening, and blurring together to the point where you’d question yourself if everything was real or not.

Unfortunately, the paranoia never stayed in one place. It started migrating to things that you once deemed important - someone who you wouldn’t trade the world for.

After a week of isolation, Yeosang entered your room in the middle of your crisis, wordlessly taking you to the guest room with him, tucking you in bed before slipping behind you to sleep, but not before cleaning you up because your ears started to bleed out of nowhere again.

You hated yourself for it. There were now quiet, ugly thoughts that began festering in the back of your mind every time you looked at him and they shouldn’t even be there because he was your anchor, your light, and the one person who was there for you despite everything.

He didn’t deserve it. Your sweet, gentle Yeosang who still smiled every time you spoke his name, who brewed your morning coffee without even asking, who massaged your ankles just so blood could circulate in it when you couldn’t take your daily walks outside. He was everything and more, and yet, something inside you was beginning to turn against him.

The demons in your head made you hurt much more than anytime before. Who were kidding? He had everything you needed even without you and just overall much better without him. Come to think of it, why were you still with him, anyway?

He had no reason to stay anymore. You were walking again, talking again. He’d done his part. Shouldn’t he have gone back to his life by now? Was it pity? No, Yeosang wasn't like that…or was he?

You were currently in the living room with him, silence enveloping the two of you as he braided your hair, just like he did when you were still at the hospital. And that was the hard part; if you weren’t broken, would he still stay? You wanted to believe that what you saw in his eyes was real but you couldn’t stop the fear that it was all slipping away.

Snap out of your pity party, L/N Y/N. Yeosang isn’t like that—

Well, to be completely fair, all of this started because he felt sorry for you. He’s only staying because he felt responsible for what happened to you, and he was going to leave soon, and you’ll be all alone again.

Don’t be ridiculous. He promised, you dumb fuck. You’re pathetic. He doesn’t deserve you.

Yeah, you really didn’t deserve him. Not at all. You gritted your teeth, shaking your head to rid all the poisonous thoughts. You wanted, no, needed to think of all the good things because these problems are problems that shouldn’t even have existed. You were such a loser.

But what is this?

Stop stop stop

Can’t. Can’t breathe. What was I doing? Yeosang. Yeosang? What’s this what where am I

Fuck it. Fuck it fuck it fuck it—

No. Don’t cry. You’re fine.

You’re not fine. Shut up shut. the. fuck. up.

Don’t think. Don’t think.

He’ll leave. He’ll go. He’ll realize he’s better off without you.

Let him go. Let him stay.

Let him staystaystaystaystay

Let him go

I’ll miss him I’ll miss him IMISSHIMIMISSHIM—

“Darling, are you alright there? You look a little pale.”

That snapped you off back to sensibility. Yeosang paused from braiding your hair, opting to run his fingers through your scalp, a gesture he recently discovered relaxed you. You wouldn’t tell him, but the sensation did keep the demons at bay if only for a little while.

“Y-Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “Yeah, sorry. I was just about to fall asleep, actually. Whenever you do my hair, it feels so relaxing to me, that’s all.”

He hummed softly, though you could tell by the slight tremor in his fingers that he didn’t really believe you. “You’ve been zoning out a lot lately,” he said quietly after a moment, his voice careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “Even when I’m talking to you.”

You stiffened. “I’m fine,” you murmured, but it came out too quickly and too sharp.

He lowered his hands from your hair. “You’re not sleeping much, either,” he said, leaning closer, his breath brushing your temple. “You’ve got to let me help you, darling. You can’t keep all of this inside.”

He leaned even closer until you felt his breath ghosting over the side of your neck before his lips brushed softly against your shoulder. Your breath hitched, not wanting to believe what you knew was happening, but then he moved them, enough for you to feel his plush lips against your skin, tracing the curve of your shoulder with little pecks here and there.

A shiver crawled up your spine. You could feel his warmth radiating behind you, the solid weight of his presence, and the steady rhythm of his breathing against your back. This was the thing that made it difficult for the demons in your head to fully take over. He wasn’t even doing anything, but it was too much.

Lately, the air between you has been thicker. Not that the tension wasn’t there to begin with, only a fool wouldn’t be able to feel it, but lately, the tension made it difficult for you to breathe. His fingers traced patterns at the base of your neck and you hated how your pulse stuttered.

But even this wasn’t enough to stop the mild panic that came over you when he mentioned helping you. That meant being sent back to the hospital and being labeled as someone who was potentially crazy. The smell, alone, was enough to make your heart want to explode.

You froze when you felt the tip of his tongue drag across your shoulder all the way up your neck, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, opening your mouth slightly, when a soft groan left his lips, the depth of his voice vibrating against your skin. His hands stayed still on your waist, squeezing hesitantly just to see what you’d do.

And for a second - just one second - the monsters in your head went quiet. This was dangerous, though. You didn’t deserve any of this, not when your mind was still slipping. Everything was happening too fast and your mind and your body barely caught up.

A whimper left your lips when Yeosang sealed his mouth on your neck, digging his teeth in just enough for you to feel ridges and for them to leave a dent. And when he changed his angle and sucked another bruise onto your neck, he took that opportunity to let his hands roam higher and higher, wanting to do something else with it.

It was when you pulled away, turning your head to stare at him, and stare back he did. It kind of made you think if the warmth in his voice and the gentleness in his eyes were just kindness or if he felt something more for you.

“It’s okay,” you forced a laugh, your voice cracking towards the end. “Y-You’re already helping, Yeo. This is more than enough for me.”

Yeosang didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you - really looked at you - and that was somehow worse. “If you say so,” he murmured, though the way his voice wavered told you he didn’t believe a word of it.

You wanted to say something, anything to break the silence, but your throat felt tight again. So instead, you leaned back against him, forcing your body to relax as his hands hesitantly resumed their gentle rhythm on your torso, just right below your chest area.

You put your hand on top of his. “Is this your definition of help?”

He doesn’t respond for a minute or so, his hooded eyes opting to stare you down. “It could be,” he slowly said, tone careful, the look in his eyes darkening ever so slightly. “It could be whatever you want it to be.”

He could have pushed you off of a cliff and it still wouldn’t have knocked the wind out your lungs the way his words did just now. “Ah,” you hummed, nervous. “How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you harboured thoughts like these?”

A small smirk breaks out from his lips, enough for you to tell exactly what he was thinking, but not enough for it to be seen as something lascivious. He was still respectful and maybe that was what made you resent him further. “A while,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “For what?”

“For not being who you want me to be,” Yeosang said, his smirk transitioning into something sadder, more somber, his hands lowering, arms wrapping around your waist, instead. “For feeling things you didn’t ask of me. For looking at you other than a friend.”

You didn’t reply, just letting his words and the silence soak in. You let your mind drift into that uncharted territory right between the lines the both of you refused to acknowledge, and in the midst of it, you realised that you didn’t mind. Not at all. In fact, you wanted to welcome it.

You hadn’t meant to depend on him this much. It just happened. Somewhere between the quiet hospital nights and the mornings filled with the soft clatter of spoons and whispered jokes, Yeosang had quietly become your constant.

You could feel his heartbeat against your back, steady and patient. Every inhale and every exhale, you found yourself unconsciously matching his. When did that happen? When did you start needing him this much?

You didn’t know, but one thing you did know was that if Yeosang left, or if none of this was ever real, you weren’t sure you’d know how to exist in a world without his presence in it.

You needed to relax, and you wanted to ignore the things all around you. Even the way your stomach twisted into knots when your reflection in the black screen TV across the room didn’t move the same way you did. You could’ve sworn that it smiled when you weren’t.

You blinked and it smiled even wider. You closed your eyes, not willing to pay it attention, not when Yeosang’s steady presence was grounding you back to what’s real.

So you wanted to get better, you really did. It wasn’t just for you - though you could argue that you’d do anything to be that person you once were before all of this started happening - but for Yeosang as well. He thought that he wasn’t what you needed, but the truth was, he was everything you never should have had and deserved.

But the problem was, the demons in your head were stronger; much, much stronger. They still whispered that he didn’t care, clawing at you in the most unexpected moments and spreading poison in your mind and in your soul.

This had to end. You were done living like this, encaged and scared in your own mind with nobody to help. You had to help yourself and the first step to doing that was understanding what was happening and the root cause of it all.

The glow of the screen was cold and harsh against your tired eyes as you typed on your laptop. It was late at night, but you were already deep into this. Perhaps, a little too deep, especially when you typed ‘why am I seeing things that aren’t there after a concussion?’

And it wasn’t like you were expecting to read something light. If anything, you’d be surprised if you didn’t see anything that was concerning, but the results still left you reeling.

Post-traumatic hallucinations. Psychotic depression. Early signs of PTSD-related psychosis.

The longer you scrolled, the more you wanted to throw up. The idea that it wasn’t supernatural but psychological, that it was you all along, terrified you even more. Because if it was all in your head, there was no escape. There was no waking up from it. It was just you, broken.

That should have been the end, but you couldn’t help yourself. You did more research the next day, the day after that, and the day after that as well. It was something new everyday, each article worse than the next - how to tell if you’re hallucinating, traumatised or clinically insane, symptoms of psychological problems, signs you have PTSD.

Yeosang noticed, of course. He always did. He’d walk into the room quietly and find you staring blankly at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, face pale. And every time you caught the flicker of worry in his eyes, you felt worse because it was like you were slowly becoming someone who needed saving all over again.

But how does one save someone from the shackles of their own mind?

You didn’t hear Yeosang until he was right behind you. “Still researching?” He asked gently, setting down a cup of tea beside you. “What are you reading?”

You were startled, your reflexes automatically making you shut your laptop in haste. “Nothing,” you murmured out a lie. “Mundane things.”

His expression softened, opting not to say anything. It was what he did when he didn’t believe you. You swallowed hard, looking away. “I’m just trying to understand what’s happening to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “That’s not wrong, is it?”

“No,” he said gently, moving to crouch in front of you so your eyes met. “It’s not wrong. But, Y/N,” he sighed, searching your face for a moment before continuing. “This isn’t normal. This isn’t you trying to understand yourself, this is you losing yourself over things you can’t control.”

You clenched your fists, fighting the rising panic. “I’m fine. I just need to know if I’m crazy or not.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not crazy,” he said, firmer this time. “It just hurts to see you like this. You’re not being fair to yourself by being like this.”

“I am being fair by trying,” your voice cracked, the frustration bubbling up, sharp and raw. You quickly ran a hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself, but the heat of your emotions couldn’t be stopped. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right,” Yeosang agreed. “I don’t, and I never will because you have been through a lot. But, I get it, I really do, which is why…”

You were caught off guard when Yeosang grabbed the laptop back and slammed it shut before pressing multiple buttons on it, realizing a little too late that he had completely turned everything off. “You can’t do this,” your jaw dropped.

Yeosang didn’t flinch. His eyes were calm, but the muscle in his jaw ticked - a small sign that he was just as scared as you were. “I already have,” he said quietly. “You can’t do this to yourself anymore. I won’t let you. You need to take a break or take a walk instead of this.”

You stayed still, fists clenched at your sides, your chest rising and falling in quick bursts “You had no right,” you hissed, your voice trembling between fury and fear. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t understand—”

“But, I do,” he interrupted, his tone firm yet still kind. “I know what it’s like to be trapped by something that won’t let go,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “You forget that I lived through that crash, too. Sometimes, I still hear my tires screeching and the sound of metal crushing in my ears. Even if I cut my ears off, I can’t cut my head off to make them go away.”

You faltered, feeling your anger slip off but only for a little. Yeosang took one last look at you before he walked away, and just like that, he was gone, leaving you in stunned silence. Your throat tightened, your fingers twitching violently against his aching temples,

You gripped the edge of the table, staring at the spot where your laptop once was before it was taken like nothing from you. Yeosang didn’t get it; he had basically taken your lifeline away. That laptop was the only thing keeping you tethered into reality. Just like that, it was gone.

He took it, he really took it. I can’t believe it.

You let out a breath he didn’t know you’d been holding, but it came out more like a choked sob. The sound startled you. Your head dropped into your arms, breath shaky and shallow.

God, what the hell is wrong with me?

For the first time since you started all of this, the kitchen felt cold. So, you started pacing. Eight steps forward. Eight back. Eight again. Your brain counted even when you didn’t want it to.

Yeosang said I needed rest. He said I needed to go out.

A break. Break. Breaking. I’m b r e a k i n g

I’m doing it! I’m following orders! ARE YOU HAPPY?

Maybe. No. Maybe. No. Ma—-

Shut UP. Think. Think. THINK.

I…don’t belong here.

Exhaustion couldn’t even begin to explain how you truly felt. All the things you hated that revolved around you, the demons whispering vile things in your ears, it came to a point where you got sick of hearing them that you just learned how to tune them out.

You felt like you were getting torn apart at the seams and all your dreams were turning into tears. If only you could run away and try to find a safe place you could hide whenever you weren’t feeling anything - to find that best place to be when it all fell apart.

But that safe place would be Yeosang and by his side, alone. You weren’t mad at him, not entirely, but things haven’t been the same lately. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t the smooth-sailing relationship you were used to with him. He still made your coffee, but his smile would be strained. You would make him his protein shakes, but your heart wasn’t in it.

You wouldn’t admit it, but him taking your laptop might have benefited you more than it harmed you. However, it led to another type of thinking, and that was your bond with him. And you missed him, you missed him so much, but in reality, you were experiencing another thing.

You didn’t have to say it. You didn’t dare, you didn’t want to. But you felt it; that impossible, overwhelming thing that didn’t need a name to be understood. You just knew that it was in the way your heart recognized him before your mind could even make sense of it.

It was how you found yourself standing in front of the guest room door in the middle of the night, staring at it as if it would disintegrate with the intensity of your eyes, alone. You were so lost, you didn’t know what to do anymore, but what you did know was that if you were going to lose your sanity, you wanted to do it by Yeosang’s side.

You knocked once, softly at first just to gauge the situation, and then you knocked twice, firmer this time to signify that you were on the other side, waiting for him to open the door you knew he didn’t lock anyway. You waited and waited, but it never swung open. You thought that, perhaps, he just didn’t hear you, so you knocked again.

But when there was still nothing, you just decided to twist the doorknob and let yourself in. As expected, the room was dark. You were once like this, you disliked any source of light when you slept, but not anymore. You were just closing the door behind you when you saw him stir awake.

His heavy-lidded eyes blinked slowly, darting everywhere until they stopped in surprise when he saw your barely-clad form standing by the door. “Y/N, love?” He rasped, voice rough with sleep. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

You swallowed. His voice came out lower, deeper than you were used to, much like a man who was just in the process of waking up, and it made you feel hot. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, filling in the silence of the room.

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and that’s when you noticed that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just boxers. You couldn’t help but trace the soft lines of his shoulders and you felt your face warm up, your heart hammering as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

And it wasn’t like you were the only one staring. You could tell the moment he realised what exactly was happening, his eyes widening slightly before they took you in slowly from top to bottom, pausing slightly on your plush thighs that were exposed to the air, your nightgown barely covering the top of them. You didn’t wear this on purpose, you were half-asleep, yourself, when you decided to walk here.

Then he lifted his arm toward you, palm open, an invitation without words. “Come here,” he commanded softly, though the intent was there. “Now.”

And you did. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to resist it. You shivered slightly, and it wasn’t because of the chill that enveloped the entire room. You started to move, crossing the space between the two of you like he was a siren beckoning an unfortunate sailor through its song.

When you laid down beside him, he didn’t hesitate to tuck you in underneath the blanket, making sure you were comfortable before settling in. However, you weren’t expecting him to scoot away from you, ensuring that there was a lot of space between the both of you, before he laid down, exhaling as he did so.

That stung more than you’d like to admit. Suddenly, the room felt even colder than it already was. “Yeo,” you called out softly, raising a brow when you saw him jump up a little at your voice. “Can you please come closer? I-I’m not used to you being so far when we sleep.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, just staring at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I…don’t think that’s a very good idea,” was all he said.

And you felt it; that thick, tension in the air that made the back of your throat tight and choke you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But you weren’t a fool, and neither was Yeosang. You both knew exactly what was happening, but neither of you knew what to do. Or rather, neither of you wanted to do the first move.

You could have bitten your tongue, went off to sleep like normal since you just generally craved for his presence. Instead, you asked him, “Why?”

There was something so cathartic about the way his breath hitched at your unexpected question. “Must you make this difficult for me?” Yeosang counteracted, avoiding your original inquiry.

You sighed, the air expelling heavily from your lungs as you turned to face him, not being able to help yourself. “Yeosang.”

He went rigid immediately, the most rigid you’ve ever seen a person be in general. For a while, he didn’t move nor breathe, but when he did, it came out harsh and it sounded more like restraint rather than relief. “Don’t,” he said, voice low and tight.

Your heart skipped. “But, Yeo—”

“I said don’t,” he cut in, sharper this time. He froze, realising what he had just done and instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just…don’t say my name. Not like that. Not like this.”

Suddenly, the distance between the two of you felt like an ocean. The silence was unbearable. You could pretty much hear the small, shaky breaths that escaped from Yeosang’s chest, his restraint heavy and alive, trembling like an angry rubber band that was about to snap in half.

“I-I just,” you swallowed, trying to ease the knots that formed in the back of your throat. “I’m not trying to make things difficult. I just don’t like how far you are from me, that’s all.”

He groaned, the sound caught somewhere between frustration and despair, and grabbed the nearby pillow, using it to cover his face. “Y/N, baby, don’t tempt me, I’m begging you,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow. “Please. I’m trying here.”

So you opened your mouth again. It might be selfish - but that’s exactly what this all was, wasn’t it? Selfishness. You could have let him go, you could have stopped needing him to feed that empty hole in your heart, but you didn’t. “Yeosang,” you called out, softer this time.

He doesn’t respond, and this one, this one was the one that made you nervous. You could practically see the conflict crawling under his skin, watching as his fingers dug into the sheets until his knuckles whitened. He turned then, setting the pillow aside and finally meeting your gaze, and the look in his eyes made your breath catch.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said quietly, like it physically hurt him. “Because I can’t trust myself. I don’t trust myself around you. Because I’m trying so damn hard to do the right thing, and you’re making it impossible.”

You froze. His fingers tangled in his hair as if all of this was beyond what his head could wrap around. “You think I’m calm, that I’ve got it together, but I don’t. I don’t, Y/N,” his voice cracked, just barely. “Every time you look at me like that, I feel like I’m going to explode. I don’t want to do something we’ll both regret.”

The words sank into your chest like lead. You stared at him for a long moment, feeling every unspoken thing between you swell like a storm waiting to break. He spoke first, taking a long breath to force his voice into something steadier. “So for your sake and mine, do not ask me to come closer.”

You didn’t argue after that. There wasn’t really anything left to say, not when he spoke with finality like he’s thought of this scenario over and over again and finally applied it when it mattered the most. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare, just relishing in the silence that was neither comfortable nor suffocating.

Finally, you nodded even though he couldn’t see you in the darkness, whispering a quiet ‘okay’ that you weren’t even sure if he heard or not. It really wasn’t okay, but it had to be. For his sake and yours.

So you settled, moving around to find a comfortable sleeping position, adjusting the blankets and all, but you needed another pillow to sleep. And then you remembered Yeosang taking it earlier. That was fine, you could just take it again. Reaching out in the dark, you groped blindly for the spare pillow.

You were expecting to touch something soft and cottony, but your breath got caught when you realised that your hand was on something warm - something that moved. Yeosang’s arm. You heard him let out a string of curses before you even opened your mouth to apologise, trying quickly to move your hand away from his skin.

It all happened so fast. He caught your wrist before you could retreat. The movement was sharp, almost violent, his arm snapping into motion faster than your mind could understand. His fingers were wrapped around your wrist tightly, but not enough for it to hurt, only for you to feel the burn.

You could barely keep up. One moment he was still on the edge of the bed, and the next thing you knew, you were letting out a little yelp of surprise when he tugged you towards him so hard, your hipbone hit him and that did hurt a little. “What—” you started, but the words died on your tongue the moment your eyes adjusted in the dark.

His face was only inches apart from yours, his eyes burning, tracing yours like he was searching for a reason why he shouldn’t be doing this. The tight set of his jaw told you he was angry, though the tremble of his lips told you that he wasn’t sure who he was actually angry at - you for how you both ended up right now or himself for his lack of self-control.

You froze, not knowing what to do, but you asked for this, didn’t you? You asked him to come closer. And now that he was actually here despite the circumstances, you didn’t know if you could handle what’s about to happen next; you didn’t know what to actually do.

But he did. He caved in, and suddenly, his forehead was pressed against yours. You closed your eyes instinctually, holding your breath as his hands found your face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, tortured and strangled. You weren’t faring better, your entire body burned as his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “Forgive me.”

You had the impression that Kang Yeosang was someone who would kiss softly, taking his time to worship your mouth with his. And maybe he did, but not tonight. The way his lips moved with yours wasn’t soft, and it wasn’t careful. It was filled with words he could never say for months, emotions he couldn’t explain - pain, longing, and guilt tangled in one kiss at a time.

Feeling everything all at once was overwhelming, and kissing him back felt like peace had finally come to you. You let out a small whimper from the back of your throat, and he swallowed every sound you made like air. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss and effectively surrendering to the battle he’d already lost to from the start.

He pulled away ever so slightly, his wild eyes staring at you as he bit your bottom lips, trapping it between his teeth. You exhaled an airy moan when he lifted your leg, putting it on top of his waist, his hand lightly caressing your plush thighs up to your buttocks, a contrast to how dark his eyes looked, before letting your lip go.

The world narrowed to the sound of your ragged breaths. Without saying anything, he leans in again, but this time, his lips attach themselves to your jawline, trailing lower and lower until he reaches your neck. You let out jagged breaths, your hips subconsciously thrusting towards him, the heat of your sex raw against his skin.

He lets out a sound that was between a growl and a whimper at the feeling, his hand pulling your ass even closer to repeat the motion, all while his lips nibbled your delicate skin, his tongue tracing your throat, concentrating on your pulse where it jumped every time he landed on it.

The pleasure was blinding, and God, did you moan repeatedly. There was no space left for thought - only the frantic, undeniable truth of him against you, and the terrifying, beautiful realization that neither of you could go back now.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his hand lifting your nightgown up to further expose your ass, squeezing the flesh without restraint, exhaling a shaky breath as he pulled you even closer to him, his lips refusing to leave your neck.

Your breath caught when you felt his fingers play with the band of your panties. “I’m sorry,” he said, more urgent this time, as he pulled them down hurriedly, almost violently. He took a sharp intake of breath, tenderly tracing your crack. “I’m sorry, love, mmm.”

There was something so sensual at how slow everything was happening. You moaned helplessly, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. His other hand began to lower the straps of your nightgown. “I’m sorry, yeah?” Yeosang said, sounding less and less apologetic, especially the way he pulled your nightgown down to expose your breasts. “Sorry.”

He squeezed them, taking his time to pinch your nipples before his lips replaced his fingers, his other hand dangerously getting closer to your hole. “So, so sorry, baby,” he growled, sucking your nipples roughly, the restraint long gone from him. “So damn sorry.”

“Don’t stop, Yeosang, please, don’t you stop,” you whimpered, your entire body on fire, mind empty and numb from all his ministrations.

His lips captured yours again, the desperation unmistakable from the way he kissed you again. You felt him lower his boxers, freeing his strained cock before his fingers circled your hole once more.

“Say you want this,” he said, breathless, squeezing your ass once with fervor. “Say you want me, Y/N. I want to hear it.”

“I want this,” you replied in between the kiss, voice teetering towards a whine. “I want you.”

He moaned low in his throat against your lips. “Again.”

“I-I want you.”

“Louder.”

“I want you, Yeosang, please.”

He finally pushes his fingers in, groaning at the feeling of your warmth. You broke the kiss, lifting your head up to let out a high pitched moan. “Oh, Yeosang,” you squirmed, looking at him with half-lidded eyes.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, curling his fingers to find that spot that made the stars in your eyes spin, sliding in and out of you with a pace that was neither fast nor slow. “Moan my name just like that while I finger this pussy.”

You bit your lips, shuddering, unconsciously tightening up on his fingers and watching him let out a devastatingly tender smile at the sensation. Hearing Yeosang talk like he did right now did something to you. Your sweet Yeosang might have been a demon, after all.

“Don’t s-stop,” you pleaded, throwing your head back in ecstasy every time his fingers slid in and out of your walls, thumb tracing circles on your swollen clit.

“Go on, feel it, feel this,” he whispered, burying his head back on your neck right below your ears. “Let go for me, darling.”

Everything about this felt so intimate. The both of you faced each other, cuddling intimately in some sort of reverse spooning, his arm engulfing your small form as if he was scared you were going to disappear. You could feel him breathing you in, like he needed to memorize your scent. There was nothing rushed about it, just someone who had been holding back for too long.

“So wet for me,” he whispered, lips moving on your skin as rubbed soft circles on your clit. In response, you let out a small moan and arched your back, your naked pussy pressing against him. His erection was pressed on your thighs and he rubs his crotch against you to relieve himself.

“God, I want you so bad,” he said, his fingers steady in their movements. “So, do you think you’re ready to take me?”

You could have finished then and there, utterly drawn to the rasp of his voice and the undeniable authority in his tone. “I-I think so,” you groggily nodded, rocking your hips against him. “C-Can I take you?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his cock twitching against you in response. “Of course,” he curls his fingers one last time before pulling them out. ”Of course, my love. Can you do me a favour?”

“Hmm?” You hummed out, your mind not really there, drowning in the pleasures he’s given you and has yet to give you.

He smiles, fingers tracing your lips. “Spit on my hand for me, will you?”

You obediently opened your mouth, letting a wad of spit land on his fingers. He moans softly into your ear. "Mmm, that's perfect, baby," he murmured. "You're doing so well for me..."

He takes his hand and uses your spit to coat his fingers, then moves them lower, pumping his aching cock before lining it up to your waiting hole. "You know what I want, don't you?" He asks, voice rough and thick with desire. You shook your head. "Let me in."

“Fuck me, Yeosang,” you whispered in anticipation. He nodded, eyes returning your fond gaze, a small smile playing on his lips.

He lets out a strained exhale as he starts to fill you up, slowly, and you hiss at the sensation. He pauses, mumbling out an apology, but you shake your head. “N-No, keep going,” you mewled, jutting your hips to try and take him further. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

“It’s alright, darling, it’s alright,” he reassured, the push of his thick length into your pussy slow but steady. “I’ll do you slowly. It’ll feel good soon, I promise.”

Yeosang kept pushing in until he was all the way inside, pausing once in a while to let you get used to his size. You lazily pushed against him, timing it with his thrusts, letting out small, breathy moans every time his cock would slide in and out of your walls. He groaned, gently fucking into you, using his hand on your ass to guide you towards him.

“Yes, that’s it, baby, that feels so good,” he panted, fucking you just a bit harder, though still slow, opting to ram into you rather than punish you with fast thrusts.

You couldn’t help but moan helplessly as the pain gradually turned into mind-blowing pleasure. “O-Oh, Yeosang, ha, you f-feel good.”

"You're so tight," his voice was strained as he spoke through gritted teeth, roaming his hands along your body. "Like you were made to take me like this all along, mmm.”

He held you close to him, whispering more sweet words he’s been dying to tell you and that you've been aching to hear, groaning as his thrusts get deeper, faster, more desperate in their pace with skin slapping against each other in the silence of the room.

He lifts your legs up to wrap them higher on his waist before rubbing your clit in sync with his thrusts. You turned your head, connecting your lips with his passionately as you moaned repeatedly in his mouth, making him moan back when you tightened on his cock reflexively.

“Just like that,” you moaned out in between the kiss as your tongues tangled with one another, not really caring how nasty it was and how spit began to dribble from your open mouths. “I feel so full.”

“You can take m-more, baby,” he groaned, his thrusts quickening, lowering his head on your shoulders to give you more kisses and hickeys. “S-Still have to fill you with my cum. Will you let me fill you up, darling?”

"Yes," you sighed contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut. "P-Please fill me up, I need your cum inside me."

He places more soft kisses along your skin, maintaining his pace, his cock hitting you in all the right spots as his fingers continue rubbing delicious circles on your clit. You could feel your climax coming, that familiar heat burning in your lower belly. “There we go, love, there we go,” he breathed out soothingly. “Give it to me, I need you to come for me.”

You held his hand as your climax consumed you, your body tensing and convulsing against him. It sends Yeosang to the edge, groaning loudly as thick shots of cum shoot up in your pussy, filling you up just as he had said he would. He pulls you to him, pressing himself plush against your body as you both try to catch your breaths.

You wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face on his shoulders, feeling your emotions for him grow stronger, more fonder, as you felt his warm cum seep out of your wet pussy. You shifted slightly, just enough for him to look at you. Fondness was also evident in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang asked quietly, voice rough around the edges.

You nodded, though it took a second for your voice to find you. “More than okay,” you whispered, and for once, you meant it. “You?”

His eyes softened, his hand caressing your head before giving your forehead a gentle kiss. His hand found yours. “I could get used to this,” he murmured, lifting your hand to give the back of it a soft kiss. “I just hope you feel the same.”

You lifted your head, gently cupping his cheek to meet him for a soft peck on the lips, one he was still surprised about despite what just happened between the two of you. “How’s that for feeling the same?” You smiled, giving him another one.

He lets out a small, lighthearted scoff, one of amusement and disbelief mixed into one. Nothing was said for a while, just letting the silence speak for the both of you and though neither of you were going to ask each other, you just knew neither one of you regretted it. Never will.

“Y/N,” he called out after a few minutes, hesitant as his fingers idly traced patterns on your shoulder. “Can I be honest with you?” He asked, to which you nodded absentmindedly. “I’m not going to lie to you, I’m terrified.”

You blinked, worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is,” he whispered. “It’s just that I don’t know what happens after this. But I do know that I want something out of this…something more with you.”

His quiet confession catches you off guard. Even though you’ve been dancing around each other for a while - as early as the initial phases of your healing, really - you have never really talked about your growing feelings for each other. But they were there, lying quietly and patiently in wait and getting nurtured into something more beautiful the more time passed.

“I know it’s fast, a little too fast even for us,” he sighed, ruffling his hair as he spoke. “It’s only been a few months and we practically just met. The circumstances in which we’ve met weren't the most conventional either, and let’s be honest, we are both very traumatised people just trying to move on. So yeah, I’m scared.”

You hummed, taking in everything he was saying. “I won’t disagree with everything. I can’t,” you said, the sting in your chest growing. “And I understand. You can just say it as is, Yeo. I-I’m broken and fucked in the head, who would want me—”

He silences you by putting a finger on your lip. “Hush, love. Let me finish,” he soothes amidst the blush on your cheeks. He chuckles before continuing. “I’m not good at many things, but I’ll learn, because for once, I’m sure about this. About you. I’ve never been so damn sure about anything in my life before. If you’re okay with it. All you have to do is let me in.”

You stared at him for a long moment, heart tight in your chest as his words started to slowly sink in your head. Were you ready? And just then, brief flashes of everything you’ve been through with this man passes by in your head like an old movie reel like your mind was already telling you what your heart refuses to acknowledge born out of fear.

“Are you sure?” You asked, uncertain though hopeful. “I hurt easily because I’m the type to love too deeply. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again. My spirit’s a little too broken for the love you’re offering. You might regret this, Yeo.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but not because of the potential rejection hanging in the air, but because of the way you talked about yourself. “We’ve been through too much to not go all the way,” he said. “You were healing, and I was the reason why you needed to heal to begin with, I wouldn’t dare insert myself and whatever I felt for you in between that.”

He exhaled deeply before continuing. “And the only regret I will ever feel is not saying this earlier. I didn’t want to scare you off. I feel like a fool for wasting a lot of precious time with you when we could have been like this to begin with. I don’t want to waste time anymore, not after both our lives almost ended in that car accident. If you say yes, I will be with you until the end.”

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs. You wanted to protect him from yourself, from the darkness that still whispered ill-thoughts in your head. But the truth was, you didn’t want to face any of it without him even if it terrified you that you could never give the love he was trying to offer you in equal measure.

And he wasn’t like you were the only one who was hurting for all this time. He was, too; he was just better at hiding it from the world and controlling it. That was the part that made all of this even more painful, because you knew he controlled his fear for your sake and not his.

You reached for his hand, hesitant but sure, threading your fingers through his. “You’re right, we did lose time,” you whispered. “Maybe I won't be okay for a while, but if you’re alright with it, then I want it, too. I want you.”

He smiled. It wasn’t wide, nor narrow. Not too disbelieving, nor celebratory. It was perfect and full of adoration for you. You knew then and there that you had made the right decision. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead in response. “Thank you. You won’t regret it,” he promised. ”We’ll figure it out.”

He hugged you even closer, relief palpable from the way he held you. “You’ll heal with me, and me,” he paused, humming in thought. “I’ll find a better job, something that will support us. We’ll find you something to do to pass time, whether it’s a hobby or if you want to work too.”

A genuine smile blooms on your face, chuckling at his suppressed excitement. “We could. Don’t pressure yourself, though. If we’re in this together, then we do things equally.”

He stared at you, eyes alight with nothing but adoration for you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Anything for you, love. I’m just excited for what’s in store for us, that’s all. We could travel together one day to somewhere quiet, somewhere we could forget everything that hurt us here.”

You laughed softly. “Wow, you’ve thought about this for a while now, huh? That sounds nice, though. Maybe we’ll actually learn how to relax again.”

He spoke endlessly and you could see it all as he described it and you listened, laughing softly at his enthusiasm. Though you didn’t say much, just putting a thought or two once in a while, you nodded through it all, feeling each imagined moment as excitement also began to take form and grow in your chest. Finally, hope was more than just a word to you.

“And if things go really well,” he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe one day, we’ll start a family. Maybe we’ll adopt a dog or two. I don’t know.”

The thought made your chest ache but not from pain, but from how possible it actually sounded. You laughed through the lump in your throat. “You’re really planning far ahead, huh?”

“It feels good to imagine it, that’s all. To know that our lives wouldn’t stop at that accident, it’s nice,” he replied thoughtfully. “We’ll think about it tomorrow, but for now, let’s sleep, yeah? We’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

You hummed, closing your eyes to sleep, lulled by the warmth in his voice and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. For the first time in a long while, you let your guard down.

Darkness. Everything was dark, but not by your own accord. You already tried opening your eyes, and you know that your eyes were already open, but your mind wasn’t catching up. The only thing you could feel was that throbbing pressure in your skull. It takes a second, but your eyes slowly focus around you even though the world was still blurry like you were looking through foggy glasses.

But you could hear everything around you, and the smell - God, the smell - was nauseating. There was the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline everywhere, metal squeaking somewhere, a hissing sound of something nearby, and the overwhelming ringing in your ears that was so loud, it drowned everything else out.

When you lifted your head, you realised that your head had been resting on a steering wheel. Amidst the chaos, confusion still burned through you. What? Why—what am I doing here? What happened?

You tried to move, something that would be a vital mistake on your end. You opened your mouth to let out a silent scream, your eyes almost rolling behind your head as white, hot, unbearable pain seared through your sides. Your hands automatically fly to your ribs, finding that the seatbelt was digging into it. You were no fool, you knew you had cracked them.

Everything started to come into focus. You were still inside your car, which was terrifying enough on its own because your car was a complete wreck. The windshield was severely cracked and the front of your car was crushed inwards, steam coming from under the hood of your car

But nothing could compare to what lay outside of your car. Across from you, there was another car that lay in the wreckage and to the other side of the highway, a large truck had fallen to its side. Even in your confused state, it wasn’t hard to deduce what might’ve happened - you were in a head-to-head collision with the car in front of you because they were avoiding the truck.

So you were just in a car crash. Bits and pieces of it slowly came to you and one by one, you started to remember them - you humming to the radio while driving to Mingi’s house for a party, the bright headlights heading your way, the screech of the tires, metal grinding against each other, and the collision that sent your head forward, slamming hard onto the steering wheel.

After that? Nothing. Blank. You had no idea how long you were out. You reckoned that it had only been a couple of minutes to half an hour maximum judging by how fresh the wreckage looked. That in itself was already terrifying to think about.

But there was something else. It felt deeper than the pain and much heavier than the confusion. A hollow ache in your chest that had nothing to do with the crash, like you were missing something - something so important that the emptiness in your chest only deepened.

Or someone. You didn’t know which one it was, but the absence of it hurt more than your injuries. You were alive, but something inside you wasn’t.

You staggered out of the car. You automatically fell, cursing when you also realised that you must’ve also injured your ankle. But you managed to catch yourself on the car’s side, forcing yourself to stand up straight before trudging forward, one leg dragging behind the other.

You waited, but there was nothing; not even from either drivers of the truck and the other car. Panic clawed at your chest and with no other choice, you forced yourself back towards your car, opting to get your phone to call emergency services for more help.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the shock when you reached for the handle of your car and your hand just passed straight through it. You froze, trying again, but your hand passed through it again as if it was smoke.

It was then you saw it - your own body. It was still in the driver’s seat, eyes closed with your head slumped on the steering wheel, blood trickling from your ear down to your chest. You were standing, staring at your own body as if your soul had detached itself from it. You wanted to throw up because that’s exactly what it was - you were outside yourself.

You looked around, not really knowing what else to do, until your eyes landed on the other car, the one that hit you. It was also mangled, and through the damage, you saw the driver. It was a man, and he was also unconscious just like your body was. His face was bloody, but even then, he looked so impossibly beautiful that even in your situation, it still caught you off-guard.

But just then, something inside you ached terribly. Your body reacted before you even knew it, your heart pounding painfully, your hand twitching and itching to touch him. The sight of him made your chest twist and your throat tighten, and before you knew it, tears were spilling down your face.

You’ve never seen this man before in your life, but deep inside, you knew that was just not true. Your heart ached in a way you couldn’t begin to explain, clawing its way up from deep inside you, desperate to be remembered.

You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know where you’d seen him, or when, or how. But you knew - you just knew - because your soul recognised him. And the thing that hurt the most was that it didn’t stop at recognition. This was loss.

Because the truth was, you did know this man. You had held him before, had heard his melodious laugh, seen the softness in his eyes only reserved for you. You had touched and loved him and you were loved in return at tenfolds.

Yeosang. My Yeosang.

But, how? You didn’t understand. You have legitimately never seen this man before, but you still felt his warmth, still heard the promises he had whispered to you in the dark. Was this a dream? So, if that was the case, then you should be waking up soon—

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my dear.”

You felt your body grow cold. Well, at least, what you thought your body was. But the low, steady voice that sounded a little too otherworldly behind you wasn’t done yet. “And, no,” it said, almost melancholically. “You are not dreaming. You were in a long one, but not anymore.”

You turned around on instinct, but you wished you didn’t because this one - this one you absolutely recognised. “You,” you whispered, face paling. “It’s you…”

It was him, the tall man that plagued your visions - visions that never existed until now. He was beautiful, different from the unconscious man in the car, because this one was so morbidly beautiful that it actually felt wrong. He didn’t feel remotely human, not at all, and his eyes were so dark, it looked like they swallowed all the light that surrounded him.

“I know you,” you couldn’t help but blurt out. “I-I don’t know how, but I just do. I’ve never seen you before but at the same time, I just know this isn’t the first time we’ve seen each other.”

He didn’t respond, only staring at you straight. He smiled faintly, something knowing and akin to pity shining through those obsidian eyes. “A-And you can see me,” you continued, stammering, absentmindedly pointing at your slumped body - your actual body, battered and bruised.

“You can call me Seonghwa. And yes, I can see you,” he murmured in confirmation, stepping closer. “I’m the one who put you here, after all.”

Dread started to fill your chest. “W-What do you mean you put me here? I don’t understand, y-you said I was in a dream,” you paused, your mouth going dry. “Who even are you? No, what are you? You said I’m here because of you?”

You were scared, terribly so, but even then, you didn’t feel like you were in danger around this…entity. You knew he wasn’t going to hurt you. He didn’t answer, his gaze shifting past you, instead, to look behind you. He nodded, pursing his lips. “Both of you.”

Confusion grew, but you whipped your head to look behind you, anyway, to see what this…entity was looking at, and you froze. If your ankles weren’t already weak from your injuries, they would have given in, anyway, from what you just saw.

Standing a few feet away with widened eyes was the beautiful driver who hit you. At least, what seemed like him, because he was just like you - disoriented and in shock as he stared at his own bloodied body still slumped inside his own car.

He blinked, the entire scene not clear before his eyes. But then, his eyes met yours and your chest pretty much caved in on itself. You saw it, that same recognition; that same passing emotion in his heart he doesn’t understand yet feels deep, deep in his heart.

His brows furrowed, and his lips parted like he was about to say something, but no sound came out. It hurt, it hurt so much knowing what exactly was going through his head but not knowing exactly how you knew that information.

His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm. You saw the horror set in his face, but beneath it, there was something warm, almost tender. “I-I don’t,” he stammered, a tear falling from his eyes, his trembling hand thumping his chest to ease the pain in there. “Why does it hurt this much to look at you? Who are you?”

And though he didn’t understand, though he didn’t remember, the look in his eyes said he felt it too. His gaze softened, confusion giving way to something that looked far too much like longing. He looked at you like you were something he’d been searching for without knowing it

“How curious. Even out here, the soul still remembers who it once loved.”

All of your heads whipped to the side. There were two more men standing a couple of feet away. One of them was staring at you with indifference, the kind that’s seen tragedy a million times before. “You’re a strong one, you,” he continued, terribly emotionless. “It’s impressive.”

Though Seonghwa’s features were eerie yet graceful in his beauty, this one was different and not in a good way. He was also beautiful, but his beauty was the darkest and most frightening you have ever seen. He was shorter, his body draped in a dark coat that hugged his frame. His skin was pale, almost translucent under the moonlight.

He was extremely intimidating, much more inhuman than Seonghwa and that was saying a lot. But it wasn’t his aura that frightened you so, it was his eyes. They were the chilling part. They weren’t just dark; they were empty. You felt like you were in danger just by looking at him.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said quietly, his voice smooth and resonant. “Tone it down a bit, yes? You’ll only frighten them.”

“Frighten them? Please,” Hongjoong scoffed, detached but not out of cruelty or malice. “After putting them in that dreamlike state and abruptly pulling them out just like this?” He snapped his fingers once. “I am the least frightening part of this whole experience. You best believe that.”

“I beg to differ, though,” the other man besides Hongjoong suddenly spoke out. You had forgotten there was another one. His eyes go back and forth between you and Yeosang with the faintest hint of melancholy on his features. “I haven’t seen love like this in a millennia. It’s very moving, wouldn’t you agree, Hwa?”

This one was the most different out of the three. He was warm, radiant, and everything you want to surround yourself with right now. He just seemed real, almost human, melodic and too beautiful for this grim setting. Without meaning to, you watched as Yeosang inched towards you, as if his body was subconsciously telling him to shield you from these three strangers.

The last man grinned, and his smile was undoubtedly bright. It just seemed to breathe life all around you. “Oh my, see?” He cheered, his happiness contagious, pointing giddily at Yeosang. “Look at them, just look at these two and tell me what we did wasn’t worth it.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched, amused. You relax automatically. This man, the one who haunted your visions, he was a lot gentler than you initially thought. “Sentimental as always, Wooyoung,” he chuckled. “You speak as though this is the first time you’ve seen something like it.”

Wooyoung only smiled wider. “Oh, come on,” he chimed. “You out of everyone should know that even us angels get lonely watching mortals love so fiercely. It’s rare these days,” he said, tilting his head as his eyes lingered on you and Yeosang. “To still recognize each other…even here.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “You talk about love like it’s some kind of salvation. It couldn’t even save these two,” he callously jerks his head in you and Yeosang’s general direction. “They’re practically just souls at this point.”

Shivers broke out all over your body and you could tell Yeosang was just as terrified as you. Wooyoung only tilted his head, unaffected. “It will,” he said softly. “You promised.”

“I said no such thing,” Hongjoong simply said, though for a brief moment, he seemed to hesitate as though he couldn’t decide what to say next.

Seonghwa sighed softly, stepping forward without hesitation towards you and Yeosang. You immediately felt calmer, more at ease. “Forgive him,” he said gently, his kind eyes boring onto yours apologetically. “He means well. Compassion doesn’t come easily to him, if not at all. Such is the nature of someone in his calibre.”

Yeosang was the first one to snap out of it, voicing out his inner thoughts that were clearly laced with panic, like he was just realising that there were three odd strangers that spoke as if they knew the both of you - like they knew something the both of you did not.

“What the hell is even happening?” Yeosang demanded in fear. He quickly glanced at his car where his own bloodied body lay and then yours, and for a split second, his eyes faltered, before he looked back at the three inhuman strangers. “I-I don’t understand. What is this?”

His barrage of questions were met without any answer but with varying looks of compassion from Seonghwa to pity and sadness from Wooyoung all the way to indifference from Hongjoong. The lack of answer was more unnerving than anything else.

But the feeling of dread was nonetheless the same and you felt it deep in your bones. “Angels,” you blurted out weakly, looking directly at Wooyoung. “Y-You said you were angels. And…and our bodies...”

These were things you read in books, watched in movies as a child, not something you conjure up in your messed up situation. The word, itself, felt ridiculous to even say out loud from your mouth. Yeosang turned his head to look at you, no doubt thinking the same thing. It prompted him to step even closer to you until he was less than an arm’s length away.

All Wooyoung could offer was a gentle smile. It was comforting but also heartbreakingly kind at the same time, his eyes full of understanding. “Yes, angels,” he said softly, gesturing at Seonghwa with one hand. “At least the both of us are. Hongjoong…he’s a little different—”

“I’m the Grim Reaper,” the latter dryly supplied, merely crossing his arms as if he didn’t just tell you that he was basically the embodiment of death. You paled, it made sense now; Hongjoong looked and felt exactly like you imagined the Grim Reaper would be.

You waited to see if one of them would crack, to tell you that everything was an elaborate prank, but when nobody did, your knees gave out. Yeosang was automatically there, holding you. Your heart thudded wildly, but not because of his touch, but because of the way your body had just melted onto his as if it was used to being held by this man.

Before your panic spiralled into a full mental breakdown, Seonghwa stepped forward, holding your arm to help you up. His touch was calming, his movements gentle like he was approaching a wounded animal. And by God, he was even more beautiful up close, you couldn’t believe it.

“Are you quite alright, my dear?” Seonghwa asked, the affection in his tone warm and genuine. You nodded absentmindedly, your mouth open in awe despite the fear. He smiled. “Good. I know you’re confused and scared, and I will explain. I guarantee you’re safe, though.”

“Safe?” Yeosang blurted out, voice cracking with disbelief, the fear in his voice palpable. “We don’t even know where we are. With all due respect, if you don’t start explaining soon, God knows what I’ll do.”

Sympathy crosses Seonghwa’s features. He nods solemnly, lifting his hands in front of you. A small trickle of light emits from his palms. You instantly feel calmer. If you weren’t already desensitised to the situation, you would’ve panicked at what you saw. He was the opposite of Hongjoong, who was emitting black smoke now that you’ve looked at him closer.

“Let’s start over. My name is Seonghwa and I am the angel of time and destiny. Hongjoong,” he began slowly and tenderly, gesturing to the impassive man. “Is the Grim Reaper, as you already know. And our dear Wooyoung is an ordinary angel. No less than special, might I add,” he smiled, pausing to assess if you and Yeosang were following. “You are in what you mortals call limbo. Your souls are temporarily separated from your bodies as of now.”

Limbo. Time and destiny. Grim Reaper. Angels. Your breath hitched. Out of everything you were expecting to hear, limbo definitely was not it. Your hand found Yeosang’s, and coincidentally, it turns out that he was already trying to reach for yours.

Seonghwa’s eyes ached with sympathy before he continued. “To put this simply,” he said, warm and immensely apologetic. “I placed both of you in a dream, sent your souls in there to keep them stable so they don’t slip away while you two laid unconscious after the car accident.”

The information was not really sinking in your head, but you understood it enough to question how absurd it was. Yeosang wasn’t faring any better. “Impossible,” he shook his head in denial. “I don’t remember any dreams. I’ve literally never seen any of you people in my life before…”

But the way his voice faltered, the way his hand squeezed yours weakly whether it was on purpose or not, the both of you knew that saying that out loud just felt absolutely wrong. There was a memory knocking behind your heads, just waiting to be opened and let out.

Seonghwa sighed, smiling sadly like a mother who has to bear the pain of telling their child the burdens of the real world. “It’s exactly as it sounds, my dear. Everything you’ve lived through, those memories, those emotions you’re feeling…it happened in that dream.”

“But I’ve never met him,” you insisted, your voice losing its conviction the more you spoke, your world shattering. “How could anything have happened? How is this possible?”

“But you have. Just not in the way you think. Not while awake,” Wooyoung stepped forward, expression tinged with pity and compassion. You were about to shake your head, but he raised his hand gently. “Try to remember, but not with your mind, but with your soul. I’ll help you, close your eyes.”

The moment Wooyoung snapped his fingers, something warm flickered inside your chest. It wasn’t instantaneous, but rather a gradual sensation that caused a massive chaos in your heart.

“Do you know what I see?” Yeosang suddenly whispered. You shook your head. “I see someone strong. Someone who is trying despite all the odds being stacked against them.”

He held your trembling hand to his lap, pursing his lips. “You’re amazing, Y/N. I’m never going to stop reminding you of it. I’ll be here to remind you of it because I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

“You could say my name a thousand times and I’d still want to hear it again,” he confessed, voice trembling with a kind of raw honesty that made your heart ache.

“If I was actually gone, even in your dream. That would mean I was already on my way back to you, I guarantee you. I’d never leave you willingly, not even there.”

“Next time you dream and I’m not there,” he said, leaning closer. “Wait for me, alright? I’ll always find you in your nightmares, especially in those, alright?”

There were more, and though you couldn’t fully remember all of them, you felt them. You trembled, covering your mouth as tears started to fall from your eyes. You wanted to crumble, these memories were overwhelming, everything was just too much.

Yeosang stiffened beside you, hand flying to his chest like something inside him had cracked open. Just like you, a part of him remembered it, a part of him never really did, but most of him had already started breaking from the weight of it.

Wooyoung gave a soft, mournful smile. “You see? The mind forgets, but the soul will never, ever forget who it once had a connection with.”

Even Hongjoong couldn’t help but stare. “Curious,” he murmured, his hand on his chin as he observed. “Very curious, indeed. ”

Yeosang stared at you, eyes glassy and wide, his voice barely a breath. “I-I loved you,” he started, voice devastated like he had already lost you before he even had you. “Y/N, I remember you. Oh God, I still do. Come here—”

You nodded, not being able to think straight, not being able to even speak with how overwhelmed you were. Without hesitation, Yeosang pulled you to him, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug, one you didn’t think twice in returning. Your heart didn’t have to remember him to love him - it already did.

Seonghwa stepped closer, his warmth surrounding you without touching you. “We tried to warn you the entire time,” he said, expression softening further at the sight of you and Yeosang clinging to each other. “I might have not done a great job at it because you seemed frightened with me especially, but I had to. It was the only way to protect your psyche.”

Seonghwa exhaled a slow, sorrowful breath. He gestures at the accident, his eyes pausing on your unconscious bodies inside your cars. “So you wouldn’t get used to it. I did everything I possibly could to tell you that that world wasn’t real without actually telling you outright. ”

Yeosang’s worry spiked again. “But why?”

“Because,” Hongjoong said flatly. “It would disturb the realm. Your minds would have rejected the realm as a whole. A lot of rules were broken just by sending two mere mortals in that dreamlike state. Your weakened minds needed protection. It could have collapsed.”

As if the entire situation wasn’t terrifying already. While you couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moments they were referring to, if you concentrated enough, you do remember snippets of moments where you thought you might have been losing your mind.

“I gave you signs,” Seonghwa continued, his eyes flicking to yours with deep regret. “The hallucinations, especially. I would visit you to try and talk to you, though I think I presented as a creepy ghost, apparition, or something in your head instead and for that, I’m sorry.”

Your stomach dropped. Those moments, the unplaceable oddities you tried so hard to dismiss, suddenly made a terrifying kind of sense. You felt a presence to your side, slightly getting startled when you saw Wooyoung. He, too, had this heavenly beauty. He reached out, seeking permission from you before he touched the side of your head.

“And your ears,” Wooyoung spoke gently. You felt him wipe your ears and when he pulled away, you were slightly horrified to see his fingers tinged with red. “The bleeding. You might remember that they bled a lot. It was a sign, but not one we did on purpose.”

You froze, your finger automatically reaching for your ears. “W-What does that mean?”

“It was a sign that the real world was breaking through. There was only so much to do to keep that dream going. We were breaking heavenly rules, you see, and our powers are just not enough. You spent almost a year there, but out here, it was probably only an hour at most.”

The realization hit like a physical blow. A year of memories with Yeosang, and out here, it was nothing more than a mere hour. You wanted to cry because that year felt like a lifetime of happiness to you and to find out that all of it happened inside your head in only one hour? It was devastating in ways you couldn’t even begin to explain.

“So, what now?” Yeosang asked, steadfast in his will to be strong. But you knew him - your soul knew him - and you knew that he was only pretending to be strong for you. “Are we dead?”

“No,” Hongjoong quickly answered, tilting his head in a fashion that might be seen as vindictive. “But you’re about to be.”

A cold, hollow numbness spread through your chest. “Hongjoong,” Wooyoung chastised, looking like this hurt him more than he could ever show.

Hongjoong regarded you again, sighing. “Don’t misunderstand,” he said. “Death isn’t some sort of sordid punishment. It’s simply just the end. Or, perhaps,” his gaze flickered between you and Yeosang. “It could be a new beginning. Perspective. A nuance.”

“That is enough,” Seonghwa shot him a warning look, but Hongjoong only gave the faintest shrug, unbothered.

There was only so much you could take and something in you just snapped. “Maybe you should have just let us die,” you blurted out, surprising the latter and the two angels. “Because whatever this was…it’s borderline cruel, don’t you think?”

Hurt flashed in Seonghwa’s eyes, but you weren’t done. “I need to know what this was all for. Why did you even send us there and make us live all through that if it wasn’t even real? Why let us feel everything and fall in love just to take all of it away? Why?”

That wasn’t a lie on your end - death would’ve hurt less than knowing everything was never real to begin with. Even though it was hard to regret whatever happened in that small span of a lifetime in your head, it was a bitter pill to swallow that none of those even happened in real life and even now knowing all of this, you still barely understood a single thing.

Wooyoung sighed, his face falling, the heavenly brightness that surrounded him dimming. He gestures to himself with one hand, tilting his head up to look at the sky with fondness. “We angels…we have no free will, you see, and we get one job. Mine was to tell Hongjoong which souls are to die next so he could collect their souls.”

“The good thing is, though,” he continued with a small smile. “With enough good deeds, we get to choose eventually if we would either like to ascend to a higher heaven, or reincarnate as mortals on Earth. This car accident was my last mission before I faced God so I could pick.”

You felt Yeosang’s hand tremble against yours. “Was it our souls?”

“See, that…that is the confusing part in all of this,” Seonghwa stepped forward this time, looking deeply troubled. “Because neither of you were meant to be here.”

“But you said you put us here on purpose,” you frowned.

Seonghwa’s expression softened with something unbearably grievous. “I meant the accident darling,” he replied carefully as if afraid to shatter you further. “Neither of you were supposed to be hit at all. I am the angel of time and destiny, I should know.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and a sick twist of disbelief coiled in your stomach at the revelation. “Something didn’t feel right about it, I had to go to Seonghwa,” Wooyoung looked down, guilt etched in every line of his bright and beautiful features. “The moment it happened, I knew something had gone wrong. Something that wasn’t in the books. Something that wasn’t fate.”

Seonghwa’s eyes shifted toward the wreckage behind you. “The truck driver was the only one who was supposed to die. That is why Wooyoung was here to pass his soul on to Hongjoong,” he continued, shaking his head with a helpless sigh. “But sometimes, even angels cannot predict every destiny. There’s only so much I could do.”

While this made sense, something else was still bothering you. “That still doesn’t answer my question,” you said bluntly. “Why go through all this trouble for us?”

“You weren’t supposed to die tonight,” Wooyoung answered, the halo you didn’t even notice he had dimmed entirely. “You weren’t even supposed to meet yet. Certainly not like this. This couldn’t be the end, your futures were supposed to stretch far.”

Something inside you went cold. You shook your head in denial, the dots clicking in your head one by one louder than an explosion at the insinuation of what they were saying slowly sinks into you. “I-It can’t be,” you said, breathless. “Are you saying…?”

Seonghwa nodded grimly, pressing a hand to his chest as if pained by a memory only he knew and could see. “You were meant to meet later on, anyway, had this accident not have happened,” he said, sorrowfully. “Grow into each other and all in love the way souls do when the universe lines up just right. That was your destiny. That was the one I had in my books.”

The pain was indescribable. This was a different type of loss; one you didn’t know how to carry. It was the loss of a life you would have lived with Yeosang - a whole world of moments, conversations, emotions that were already gone before they even arrived.

“So, what,” Yeosang swallowed, his voice trembling as the weight of the world seemed to fall on his shoulders. “You stopped time to correct destiny? Or you felt bad for us?”

His hold on you tightened, the only sign that this was affecting him more than he let on. “Yeosang,” Seonghwa began gently, almost maternally. “We meant it when we said we haven’t seen love like yours. We took pity with what could have been for the two of you and everything you were supposed to be. Wooyoung and I refused to accept your deaths.”

At the mention of only two angels, everyone turned to the darkness that was Hongjoong, who looked away with a sigh. “I don’t owe you mortals any explanation,” he said gruffly. “You have to understand, destiny owes your feelings absolutely nothing as well. My job is to collect your souls regardless if it was your time or not. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing against anybody.”

Wooyoung wrung his hands, his bright aura flickering like a fading candle. “Seonghwa and I decided to send you in that dream-like state to buy you two chances to live the life you were supposed to have. To propagate that love you were supposed to experience in this life as fate had originally written.”

The soft-hearted angel looked up with glassy eyes, pursing his lips as he looked at his fellow angel with reverence. “All while Seonghwa tried to plead with Hongjoong before he made his decision. That dream was a little piece of heaven for the both of you just in case he decided to take your souls, anyway, so at least you experienced what it was like to love one another.”

Something inside you pretty much died right then and there. Guilt started festering in your chest. The very angels you tried to condemn were the ones who had been caring for you all along, protecting the both of you as your souls tried to hang on to that thread between life and death.

Seonghwa reached for your hand. It was warm, soothing in a way that made you want to close your eyes. “We couldn’t bear to let your story end before it even began. I did what I could.”

You watched as he held Yeosang’s hand with the other before placing the latter’s hand with yours. Yeosang didn’t hesitate to squeeze your hand, his warmth seeping into your fingers, stirring memories you wished you could rewrite and moments you wished you had held tighter even if it was only a dream.

And at that moment, you couldn’t even regret anything, because deep in your heart as you felt Yeosang’s loving gaze, you knew you would do it over and over again. You would willingly jump into that realm even if you knew you’d wake up after just to know what it was like to fall in love with this man like it was the first time.

And you knew Yeosang felt the same with how he stared at you with the same type of emotion you had only seen in that dream. This doesn’t escape Hongjoong’s attention and for once, he looked neutral - neutral in a way someone like him could be.

“I didn’t want to at first, you know?” He began, the weight of his voice heavy in your chests. He walked closer, his eyes travelling all over your forms, black tendrils of smoke following his every step. “But I just had to see for myself as to why someone like you deserved the mercy of somebody like Seonghwa. It was temporary, yes, but it was mercy, nonetheless.”

The closer he got, the more suffocating the air became, like that of death slowly sucking the life out of everything. “I was there once, in that dream,” he continued, raising an apathetic brow. “In the kitchen. I just had to see for myself what was so special about you, a mere mortal. Fate binds, never releases. I wanted to know why you out of all the mortals we’ve encountered.”

Fate binds, never releases. You slightly staggered, a certain memory hitting you square in the chest. You remembered that day vaguely, of seeing Yeosang in the kitchen and then disappearing, to you finding your phone in the closet with those exact words typed in. You remembered almost losing your mind because you thought you were going crazy.

“Having said all of that,” Hongjoong stopped in front of you and Yeosang, voice smooth but not merciless. He wasn’t that tall, but at this very moment, he felt like a mountain. “I am not cruel. But I’m not kind either. I’m simply someone who has a job. However,” he pauses, and the air thickens with cold expectation. “I will give you something I’ve never done before. A choice.”

You didn’t know if angels breathed air like mortals did, but you could have sworn even they stopped breathing. “You may pass on, and I will guarantee your souls a safe journey to the Heavens,” he said, raising a hand to let the smoke curl around his arm. “You will be together for all eternity with these memories intact. Your love will remain exactly as it was written.”

Beside you, Yeosang tensed, leaning closer to you as if terrified of losing you again. “Or,” Hongjoong added, voice dropping into something colder, final, and absolute. “You may return to the mortal world to continue your lives.”

You let out a shaky breath, ready to nod, but not before Hongjoong raised a hand, squashing all the hope that threatened to rise from you. “But if you choose to live, then everything that happened from the dream up to this very moment…and him,” his chin tilted toward Yeosang. “Will vanish from your memory. And Yeosang will forget you in return.”

This. This was what real cruelty was like. You wanted to scream into the void. This wasn’t fair, none of this was. To lose Yeosang forever was unbearable, yet to stay, to live, and forget him, forget this, felt like a death far crueler than the one you were about to choose.

“You will wake up like normal,” Hongjoong continued calmly. “But you will forget each other. Completely. As if you never crossed paths at all.”

Yeosang inhaled sharply, the sound raw. “But why?” He croaked, voice breaking pitifully. To your left, Seonghwa looked away, not bearing to look even for one more second and Wooyoung already had tears falling from his eyes. “Why does it have to be like this?”

Hongjoong’s expression was neutral, but still unforgiving in consequence. “Balance,” was all he supplied. “It was already risky having you two here and even riskier to rewrite fate. Balance is needed to even out destiny. This is the only mercy I can offer. You either pick love beyond life or life beyond love. The choice is yours—”

“I choose to pass on,” you said with finality and conviction, not even hesitating in the slightest.

Yeosang jerked toward you like he’d been stabbed. “No,” he breathed, shaking his head so hard his hair whipped around his face. “No, you cannot—”

“Yeosang,” you forced a small, sad smile. “It’s the obvious choice.”

“It isn’t,” he shot back instantly. “It isn’t.”

You shook your head in return, cradling his face with your trembling hands. “You don’t understand,” you said, trying to make him listen. “Out there, I have nothing. All my worth was in that dream we shared. I mattered there, you made me feel worth something…”

The dam you were trying to hold back shattered, your heartbreaking sobs echoing in the small space you shared. Wooyoung made a step to try and comfort you, but Seonghwa held him back, shaking his head. “I have no family, and all the people I had just quietly stepped away,” you whimpered, trying to hold it in but failing miserably. “Mingi’s got this promotion, San is moving out of the country soon, and Yunho’s getting married in the countryside—”

Yeosang shushed you and somehow, that hurt more than anything you’ve heard today. He looked so broken, shaking his head repeatedly as he tried to whisper soothing things to you. “That’s not true, love, that’s not…” he sniffled. “Don’t say those things about yourself.”

Desperation edged into his words as he held your hand away from his face, holding it tightly against his. “Listen to me,” he began. “You are always worth more than what’s happened to you. Even if you don’t always feel like it.”

It hurt. Everything just hurt and you didn’t know what to say or do. “It doesn’t mean that the world doesn’t need you, it doesn’t mean you need to disappear,” he brushed his thumb over your knuckles, his teardrops wetting the surface as he smiled ruefully, a quiet acceptance in his eyes you weren’t ready to face. “I’d rather live my life knowing you’re out there alive.”

He took a shuddering breath, biting his lips so hard, they bled on the corners. All in an effort on his end to not cry out loud. “Even if it meant I won’t ever remember you or see you again.”

You shook your head as if denial alone could stop all of this from happening. “I can’t live without you,” you choked, squeezing your eyes as tears fell freely. “How can you say these easily? How can you just decide that you want to forget all of this?”

Yeosang gave a wet, broken laugh. He pressed his forehead against yours in anguish. “It’s easy because I love you,” he said, words trembling as bad as his entire body. “You think I want to forget you? I love you too much to let you disappear, Y/N.”

You pressed your face into his shoulder, sobbing quietly. He held you like you were the last thing in existence worth clinging to. “I don’t want to forget,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to forget.”

“I know,” he murmured, smoothing your hair with a gentleness that shattered you. “God, I know.”

You stayed like that, holding each other for what felt like an eternity because you knew this was all you were going to get - that this would be the last time you might hold each other close like this because the world had no choice but to break the both of you.

Finally, you lifted your head, your palms framing his cheeks. Yeosang closed his eyes, a single tear cutting down his cheek. He held your face for the last time, gently pressing his lips on your forehead to seal the fate that awaited the both of you. And with that, hand in hand, you both faced Hongjoong. Yeosang nodded once, weakly, signifying both of your decisions to live on.

And Hongjoong nodded back, impassive and unreadable, accepting the choice you never had power in to begin with. He twirled his fingers and the black smoke that enveloped him approached you and Yeosang before they disappeared somewhere on your body.

Hongjoong gestures towards the two angels. “If you two would, please. My job here is done,” he murmured before turning around and walking away, but not before looking over his shoulders to address you and Yeosang. “Let’s not meet too soon again, shall we?”

And in a blink of an eye, he was gone, only traces of smoke and darkness left in his wake. Seonghwa’s eyes were glassy with grief so tender it nearly broke you all over again as he approached Yeosang and Wooyoung’s shoulders sagged, his radiant glow dimming as tears swelled along his lashes as he approached you.

“You made the right choice,” Seonghwa spoke with bone-deep melancholy. He extends his hands to Yeosang. “Come, my child. We must go. Wooyoung will take care of Y/N.”

Seonghwa guided him toward the left side of the empty road and Wooyoung touched your arm to guide you toward the right, but your hands were still linked with each other and neither of you wanted to let go. Yeosang’s grip tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to say he didn’t want this. His breath hitched, shoulders shaking despite how desperately he tried to stay composed.

Eventually, your fingers slipped and his hand fell away from yours. You had no choice but to watch as you were being led away from each other. You stopped crying, not because it didn’t hurt, but because the pain was too much that your body blocked it out to protect itself.

Wooyoung’s touch on your shoulder tightened, his own tears slipping down like falling stars. You stared at the angel, mustering up a somber smile. “Thank you,” you said, meaning it. “For everything.”

He tilted his head, eyes softening into fondness. “I have a feeling we’ll see each other again. I’d advise you to stick to your friend Yunho,” he chuckled cryptically, chin gesturing towards Yeosang. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

You looked at the man you loved as Seonghwa seemingly asked the same question, and he was already looking at you. You both looked away at the same time, both shaking your heads. “No,” you replied quietly.

Neither of you said goodbye because how do you say goodbye to a soul that lives inside your own?

Wooyoung nodded solemnly. Just then, brightness started glowing from behind your eyes and you knew it was time. You could feel warmth coming from inside you as the veil started to slowly drift away and your soul slowly return to your body. Your eyes automatically met with Yeosang’s, possibly for the last time in this lifetime.

How many moments does it take to fall in love with someone wholeheartedly?

It was gradual. At first, his form started to disappear right before your eyes, the distance between you widening impossibly far. And then it was his shape, it started to blur. You refused to blink, just taking him in before your mind completely erased his existence.

Endless moments, born and broken inside the same dream we both couldn’t continue.

Yeosang smiled, tears falling from his eyes he didn’t bother to wipe. I’ll miss you, his eyes said, even if I wouldn’t remember why. As he started to fade away, each pulse of light felt like watching the only reason your heart remembered how to beat.

How long does it take to fall in love?

And you feel yourself fading away as well. You nodded, smiling back, wishing this to be the last thing he saw before you went back out there. You closed your eyes as Yeosang completely disappeared, taking with him the only love you had ever known.

Thank you for giving me enough time to find out.

You opened your eyes, momentarily disoriented by how white everything looked. It was actually insane - everything was literally covered in white. Even the air smelled so clean with disinfectants that if scent had a colour, it would most definitely be white.

Everything just hurt, even breathing felt painful. You closed your eyes, trying to remember the last thing you did before you ended up laying on the hospital bed, and as things slowly came back to you, you couldn’t help the dread that seeped into your bones. You were in a car accident, that much was sure.

You remembered getting ready to go to Mingi’s house, excited that he got a huge promotion - though a part of you was sad since he’ll be transferring departments and you’ll be alone - driving on the highway as it started to rain. You vaguely remembered headlights approaching your car and then absolutely nothing afterwards.

It was odd though, you felt like you were still missing a chunk of your memories. You brushed it off, attributing it to the large bandage that was wrapped around your head. You reckoned that hitting your head on your steering wheel could cause a horrific concussion.

You groaned, trying to move around, wondering if anyone knew you were even here, but that question was soon answered by panicked and relieved gasps on the other side of the room. You felt someone grabbing your hand, repeatedly uttering a shaky ‘thank you’ to nobody in particular, trembling lips touching the bruised skin around it in gratefulness.

You turned your head, eyes widening in surprise at who you saw. “M-Mingi?”

“Oh, thank fuck you’re awake,” he sobbed in relief, his hold on your hand tightening. “I was worried sick, Y/N, we were literally ready to give that truck driver a piece of my mind if he wasn’t dead already.”

Your heart sank, but you weren’t surprised. Judging by the condition of your body, the accident must have been bad. “B-But your promotion party,” you blurted out. “And you said we?”

You looked around, your eyes widening even more at the sight of not only San, but also Yunho, hand in hand as palpable relief washed upon their faces. Your heart warmed, tears forming in your eyes. “I-I don’t understand, how are you guys here?”

“Y/N, are you kidding me?” Yunho was immediately by your side. “When Mingi called, my fiancée and I literally drove hours just to get here. I probably broke so many traffic laws on the way.”

“And I cancelled my flight,” San shrugged like it was no big deal. “Japan can wait, and fuck Mingi’s promotion party. He pretty much cancelled it. You’re more important.”

That pretty much did it. You started full-on bawling as your three closest friends formed a circle to envelope you in a warm hug. Somehow, you expected yourself to wake up alone, but you were an idiot to think nobody would be there for you. You were never alone, to begin with.

Shortly after, the doctor came in. Choi Jongho was young, quite good-looking, and he was kind and hospitable, carefully explaining the extent of the injury and the aftermath of the accident. Overall, Dr. Choi explained that you were fine, minus the crushed ribs from the airbag compressing your chest after the collision and the broken ankle.

Your hand subconsciously flew to your heart, an unexplainable feeling washing over you in a way you couldn’t pinpoint. “Is something bothering you in that area? Pain, perhaps?” Dr. Choi asked patiently, observing the way your hand clutched your chest area.

You paused, not really having words for the hollow ache. How were you going to explain something you couldn’t make sense of? You weren’t in pain, but you felt empty, like something had been scooped out of you and you were only now realising the space it left behind.

“N-No, I’m fine,” you replied carefully. “Uhm, would you happen to know the extent of the accident? Are there casualties?”

Dr. Choi had gentle concern lining his features. “Hmm, yes, I believe so. The truck driver was dead on arrival here,” he murmured, trying to recall. “And there was another man, but he was brought to another hospital because he needed surgery this hospital doesn’t provide.”

After that, Dr. Choi further explained what you needed, including future medication and possible therapy for your broken ankle, and everybody decided that it was in your best interest that you would stay with Yunho in the countryside to recuperate. San tried to contest, arguing that Japan might be better for you, but something told you to go with Yunho.

“I wish you the best recovery,” Dr. Choi bid goodbye kindly. He was about to walk out, when he paused, turning around with a pondering look on his face. “I’m sorry if this seems unprofessional, but I was just wondering if we’ve met before?”

You frowned, confused. “No? I don’t think so.”

“Ah, my apologies, I must have confused you for someone else,” he muttered on the way out, closing the door softly, accepting the answer though his confused face told you otherwise.

There was silence in the room before Yunho snorted. “Well, that was odd,” he chuckled. He stared at you fondly, patting your arm gently. “Anyway, we’ll help you settle once you’re better. The countryside air would be good for your health and my fiancée needs companionship as well. She’s been lonely out there. I promise you’ll like her, she’s very sweet.”

You nodded gratefully, and again, you had no words for the missing piece inside your chest.

Your injuries didn’t take long to heal, thanks to Yunho’s fiancée’s care, who really was as sweet as Yunho said she’d be. She was a welcome friend, one you already considered to be close with, who helped you heal in ways she wouldn’t be able to understand, namely that gaping hole in your heart that did get better with time, but still.

Yunho was right, the countryside did help a lot. The air was fresh, and the food was even fresher. You would accompany her sometimes to the market in the morning to fill out your walks to exercise your muscles for a faster recovery.

But for the most part, your days were spent with you sitting out on the balcony just staring at nothing in particular. Sometimes, you’d watch people. Not in a creepy way, just in a sense where you felt like you were supposed to be there too, doing mundane things with no goal in mind; just living out your life the way you’re meant to.

It was very peaceful here and you liked it like that. It was slow in the best way possible, people weren’t in a hurry to get to where they needed to be, the rhythm of life beat just about right in tune to the ordinary life people hunger for. And you were just there, watching it all unfold.

You sat back in your chair, eyes tracing the vast fields, the evergreen trees, the way the sunlight shone over the grass. Something about it felt nostalgic and, somehow, heavy at the same time. Suddenly, you heard the door behind you open. You knew exactly who it was before you even looked.

“I knew you’d be out here. I thought you might be cold,” Yunho’s fiancée approached you, gently wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. She stepped beside you, leaning her elbows on the balcony railing. “You really like this view, huh?”

You thanked her, and thanked the heavens for giving you this woman as a friend. “Can you blame me?” You chuckled quietly. “Look at it, it’s breathtaking.”

“Not at all,” she laughed. She paused, her voice dropping into a somber tone when she spoke her next words. “I just wish you wouldn’t look beyond the fields all the time.”

You froze, surprised that she even noticed, but more so because of how close she got to something you’ve never managed to name out loud. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, pursing her lips as she spoke with melancholy. “You have this…look in your eyes,” she said. “I can’t explain it, It’s not exactly sadness, more like someone who’s already lived half a lifetime somewhere else beyond here.”

Her words settled into you deeper than you expected. You shift your weight, hugging the blanket closer as if to protect yourself. Half a lifetime. Did you really look that way? Probably. You weren’t entirely sure, so you stayed silent, looking at her and waiting for her to continue.

“Yunho can’t pinpoint it either,” she murmured more as an afterthought. “We see it all the time, the way you look like you’re expecting for someone to return whether it’s your old self or somebody else, we’re not entirely sure.”

Now that hit you. It was strange for someone to put into words things you couldn’t even think of. All your life, you’d been alone, and you were used to being alone. Maybe you did live another lifetime - one where you were defined by your choices, memories that have long faded, or perhaps, versions of yourself you never fully grew out of.

“I’m…not entirely sure,” you admitted. “Sometimes it does feel that way, but for the most part, I’m actually quite happy even though I have no idea why. Maybe nearly dying does that to you.”

She settled her hand over yours, grounding you. “Have I ever told you how Yunho and I met?”

You were grateful for the change of topic, so you shook your head no. She told you cryptically that they met under dire circumstances and that she was pregnant, to which you were a little surprised about. Yunho wasn’t the father, but you could tell that she loved Yunho. You smiled internally, because you could also tell that Yunho loved this girl.

It was complicated, but you weren’t going to ask for more details. That was their story, not yours. “Oh my, have I been burdening you? Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? When did you find out? Have you thought of any names yet?”

She giggled, placing a hand over her tummy lovingly. “No, on the contrary, you’re making my pregnancy easier by being my happy pill. We found out a month ago, and as for the name—”

“Wooyoung. We’re thinking of naming him Wooyoung, in case it’s a boy.”

The both of you turned to see Yunho leaning by the door, staring at the two of you with mild amusement. He walks forwards, smiling softly as he puts a gentle hand on his fiancée's tummy. “You bastard, you deprived me of good news,” you joked. “Congratulations on the baby.”

Yunho scoffs playfully, turning to his fiancée lovingly. “You should go rest. It’s cold out here.”

Yunho replaced her position on your side, being the one to lean on the balcony railing this time. “How are you feeling?” He asked softly. “Minnie might drop by soon, and Sannie called earlier.”

You hummed, the sound low in your throat. “Better than I thought,” you answered with ease because it was the truth. “Just a bit tired, I guess.”

Yunho nodded like he already knew. He had always been strangely perceptive when it came to you. “She’s right, you know?” He added quietly. “I see you all the time when you think no one’s watching. You look like you’re in another world most of the time and I don’t mean that like you’re daydreaming, I mean like, you look like you’re in a permanent dream.”

You let out a long breath, your gaze drifting to the darkened fields again. “Sometimes, I do feel like that,” you admitted. “But I don’t know. Sometimes I’m not sure what it is, exactly, or if it’s even real.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” he hummed, hair swaying along with the night breeze. “It’s alright if you’re not back being yourself for a little while.”

“It’s not the injuries,” you whispered. “Mentally, I’m okay. I just feel empty most of the time.”

“How so?”

“It’s like…” you started, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to reach for something that isn’t there.”

Yunho was quiet for a long time. Not dismissive, just thoughtful. “Maybe you need to reflect,” he said. “Me, Mingi, San…we know you feel alone most of the time and we never knew why. We tried to be there for you when we could, but you were the one who pushed us and everyone away, Y/N. No one abandoned you, you chose to be alone.”

You blinked, throat tightening, but he wasn’t done. “You need to help yourself, and I promise you, we’ll be right behind you. Just know that sometimes, the body heals faster than the heart even when you can’t remember what hurt you. A little soul searching might help, that’s the biggest reason why I bought you here in the first place because I care for you, I really do.”

For some reason, his words felt a little too familiar and you just blurted out the first thing that came to your head, one that felt like you’ve heard before. “How do you say goodbye to a soul that lives inside your own?” Yunho whips his head to stare at you with mild surprise. He nudges your arm lightly. “Well, you're here, aren’t you? You don’t have to go through it alone,” he said. “And you should definitely write a book.”

You scoff, letting out a light smile accompanied by that look in your eyes that spoke of a thousand words. “Nah,” you shook your head. “I can’t. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

“Why not?”

“Books are written by those who have already made peace with their story,” you replied, staring out, watching your breath fog up the spaces in between. “Writers write because their ghosts have learned to rest. Mine still whispers.”

Those thoughts clung to you long after Yunho went back inside, and you spent the entire afternoon thinking about your life and how it should change. Thoughts like these never crossed your mind, but this time, they did.

Maybe Yunho was right - something had to change. You couldn’t live like this forever. And as you stared at each blink of a star as nighttime approached, something had shifted. You had no idea where it came from, but you were determined this time. And then it hits you, what you were feeling all this time - grief.

With that, you realised that grief was not something you should have turned your back against. It wasn’t meant to be something sharp or something that mocked you when you were already down. Sometimes, it was the thought of starting all over again, relearning how to live the life you once thought you had.

And sometimes, it’s that tickle in your chest, the bubbling laughter you sound out to prevent yourself from crying, instead. Most of the time, it’s that underlying feeling of a memory you almost had, a feeling you thought you recognised.

That maybe you mattered after all, and you still do to someone else, even if you had no idea who you mattered to. Grief doesn’t make sense, and it shouldn’t have to, but yet, it does. It just does, because it remembers everything even if you don’t.

It remembers you, too. Especially you.

You stood up, closing your eyes and just letting yourself breathe for the first time since that accident. Grief is just another word for acceptance, and with that comes with the realisation of finally moving forward, that maybe, life does go on and starting over wasn’t going to be so bad. You let that thought settle, and this time, it didn’t feel wrong.

It’s not some emotion that should have had a negative feeling attached to it. You clutched your chest, finally admitting to yourself that grief could be beautiful. You might still feel empty for a while, but that’s alright, because you will learn how to carry it and let it mean something to you and that, that is what makes it worthy of feeling.

Because grief doesn’t have to be terrifying. Sometimes, it just wants to be acknowledged.

You stayed in the countryside years after your recovery with your own apartment, and you had a new neighbour who just settled in a day before. You had a day off from your teaching job. Lately, you’ve also picked up baking, so today was the perfect day to practice. So there you were, an hour after carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies in front of your neighbour’s door, knocking lightly on it.

Not even a minute after, the door swings open, revealing a kind-looking man on the other side. You were rendered speechless for a second, wanting to clutch your chest all of a sudden.

You haven’t felt that unknown feeling inside you in a long time, but instead of the usual emptiness, this time, you felt full, like the search was finally over.

“Hi, I’m your neighbour and, uhm,” you greeted cheerfully, raising the tray a bit. “I baked these for you. I’m L/N Y/N.”

He didn’t answer right away, staring at you for a heartbeat longer than he should have, the lines on his face softening. You wondered if this stranger felt the same pull you did; that same rush and warmth. And then, he smiled, eyes twinkling in a way you only knew how.

“Hello,” he greeted back with a sort of reverence that wasn’t unfamiliar to you. “I’m Kang Yeosang.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I smell a Yunho spin-off here, don't you?

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