✪ "in weakness or in strength—"
He’d always imagined more. There were no rooms bathed in golden light, no hallways without end, and no reunions with the dearly departed to guide him along. The latter was what Han had dared to hope for; the day he died would be the day that he saw his grandmother again—the day he’d be able to tell her every little thing that she’d missed—
Just for her to say that she’d been watching all the while. Maybe he’d even see Lena, a whole girl with a bittersweet smile on her lips—bitter for the life she’d lost too soon.
But everything he’d ever seen; every movie, every word of every book was bullshit.
Being trapped between the spaces of life and death was like drowning. He could hear the echoes of voices, speaking just beyond what felt like the edges of his fingertips. But Han couldn’t speak; couldn’t breathe for the water filling his lungs. Every outline he saw from the corner of his eye was the work of his imagination, drawing outlines to match the memories—
—of tones and cadences remembered from his time living.
Even as the first burst of air forces its way up his throat—from where, he doesn’t know—he doesn’t believe it. There’s nothing to believe in, drifting in the cold darkness of oblivion. It’s just a matter of time before his tenuous grasp on life;
on Jung Soojung and Choi Jinri, and every other smile that he remembers with absolute clarity—
His fingers twitch at his sides. His throat itches with an intensity that leaves him gasping, eyes fluttering beneath the shelter of his eyelids. The press of hands to his chest; light, warm healer’s hands, barely serve to keep him still. Lu Han is ripped backward, through the depths of a black ocean and back into the startling light of fluorescent bulbs and the scent of antiseptic.
“…bones will take time…—“
The first voice he hears; the first of this world, belongs to a stranger—soft-spoken and yet foreign just the same.
This time words force themselves out, past dry lips and the ache of a freshly removed tube—“From the neck or the waist?”
Han feels it’s a reasonable question, even if he can’t open his eyes.