Chapter Text
After years of sharing the same bed with someone, your body learns to read them, to anticipate their every move, to recognize even the quietest shift in their breathing. It becomes an instinct, a language spoken only between two hearts that have spent a lifetime intertwined.
That’s why Jeonghan didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Seungcheol was watching him. He could feel it, the gentle weight of that gaze, warm and steady, tracing the shape of his face as morning light spilled softly across the room.
He woke slowly, lazily, his body stretching beneath the sheets as sunlight painted gold over their tangled limbs. A sleepy smile curved his lips when he felt the familiar arm tighten around his waist, the sound of fabric rustling quietly before Seungcheol’s lips found his in a tender, drowsy kiss.
“Good morning, my sweet angel,” Seungcheol murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Jeonghan’s mouth, then to his cheeks, his nose, and finally his forehead, each one a quiet declaration of affection.
“Good morning, baby,” Jeonghan replied between soft laughter, his voice still heavy with sleep. His heart swelled as he finally opened his eyes and took in the sight before him: Seungcheol with his messy dark hair, puffy eyes from too much sleep, and a face marked with the creases of the pillow.
It was one of the things Jeonghan loved most about him: the contrast between the man the world saw and the one who existed only here, in their shared quiet. Seungcheol was breathtakingly beautiful and Jeonghan had always known that. People turned their heads when he walked by, drawn by his charm, his confidence, his presence. And though Jeonghan sometimes felt a flicker of jealousy deep down, every dawn reminded him of a truth that grounded him, that he was the only one who got to see this version of Seungcheol. The one who knew the softness behind the strength, the warmth beneath the beauty. His Seungcheol. The love of his life, his fiancé, soon to be his husband and, one day, the father of their children.
“I fucking love you, you know that?” Jeonghan said without thinking, brushing a strand of blonde hair from his own face to get a better look at the man before him.
Seungcheol chuckled, voice still husky with sleep. “Of course I do. You tell me every single day.”
He leaned in again, this time with a deeper kiss, unhurried, unguarded, the kind of kiss that carried years of shared mornings and whispered promises. Jeonghan sighed softly, feeling the weight of Seungcheol’s body settle over his, his hands instinctively finding their familiar place at the back of Seungcheol’s neck, fingers threading through his hair.
He tugged at the older man's hair slightly when he felt Seungcheol’s hands roam over his body, unable to suppress a low, needy moan as Seungcheol’s firm hands slipped inside his boxers, eagerly touching his still-sleepy cock and giving light thrusts.
“Love, not now... You know I need to get ready for work,” Jeonghan said in a fake protest, trailing his hands down Seungcheol’s strong, defined back and arms, tracing his nails over the man's lightly tanned skin while opening his legs, a silent invitation and encouragement for Seungcheol to continue his movements.
“Oh, come on, Hannie. You literally own that company, you can come and go as you please. Let me have my way with you for a bit,” Seungcheol whispered, raining wet kisses down Jeonghan’s neck, nipping at the younger man’s white, angelic skin, as he went on with the slow deliberate strokes on Jeonghan's now fully hard cock. He felt the touch grow slicker, making Seungcheol’s mouth water in anticipation.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Jeonghan responded with a slightly louder moan when he felt Seungcheol's wet mouth move down to his nipples, smiling as he rolled his eyes in pure pleasure and lust, feeling the other man's tongue circle the area before his nipple was sucked greedily. As Seungcheol’s strokes on Jeonghan’s cock alternated between slow and fast, Jeonghan instinctively arched his hips against Seungcheol’s hand, seeking more contact and pleasure. “Be quick,” Jeonghan ordered.
“Yes, sir,” the older man replied with a grin, lifting his head to gaze at a fully exposed and surrendered Jeonghan, whose fair skin was marked with pink and red where Seungcheol’s mouth had claimed the skin. “This is Heaven,” Seungcheol thought, as he nipped at Jeonghan’s slender waist, just to hear another needy moan escape the smaller man’s lips, before quickly removing the only piece of clothing Jeonghan was wearing, discarding it on the floor beside the bed, where the remaining sheets now lay tangled.
Seungcheol scattered a few more wet kisses around Jeonghan's crotch, only to immediately lick the entire length of the hard-on slick in his own hand, making Jeonghan’s body tremble at the touch. “You look so beautiful when you’re all mine...” Seungcheol breathed, raising his eyes to his fiancé, his vision completely clouded by desire and the urge to completely ruin Jeonghan. Without breaking eye contact, Seungcheol covered the tip of Jeonghan’s cock with his mouth, sucking hard before releasing the shaft with a soft “pop”, relishing the taste of pre-cum that oozed from the dick in his hand. “Fuck, baby... You taste so good.” He said moments before sliding his mouth down Jeonghan's cock, his mouth performing a full, rhythmic exploration of the length, with a passionate devotion. Seungcheol groaned as he felt Jeonghan's head touch his own throat, breaking eye contact to roll his eyes in pleasure, only to return his gaze to a Jeonghan completely consumed by lust, pushing his hips against Seungcheol's mouth to increase the intensity of the act. Jeonghan wasn't usually the dominant one when they fucked, which is why Seungcheol didn’t complain when this side of Jeonghan emerged. He loved Jeonghan's dominant side, though he loved him even more when he was completely submissive, begging to be fucked.
Seungcheol’s free hand quickly moved to Jeonghan’s hole, still stretched from last night, briefly massaging it before slowly inserting his index finger, causing Jeonghan to arch his back, moaning Seungcheol’s name, pulling at the black strands of the other man’s hair. “Just like that, baby. Don’t s-stop, please,” Jeonghan cried uncontrollably as Seungcheol inserted a second, and then a third finger into Jeonghan’s hole, while still eagerly sucking his cock, taking every inch deep, occasionally pausing for only a few seconds to catch his breath.
While Jeonghan moved his hips up and down, fucking Seungcheol's mouth and fucking himself on the other man's fingers, Seungcheol thrust his own hips against the bed, seeking relief for his own throbbing cock inside his clothes, feeling the fabric grow slicker with his rising desire, driven by the furious pace of the thrusts. Between moans, hair pulls, and whimpers of pure lust, Seungcheol continued giving Jeonghan head and fingerfucking him for a few more minutes before he felt the warm cum fill his mouth, marveling at the sound of his lover reaching his orgasm and releasing inside his mouth. Seungcheol also came, thrusting against the bed, completely mesmerized by the familiar taste of the cum and the sounds Jeonghan was making, his body convulsing from the orgasm, hearing his own name called from the filthy mouth of the man beneath him. Seungcheol withdrew his fingers from Jeonghan, but continued to suck his cock, the motions now slower, looking at Jeonghan with complete devotion and savoring every inch of the throbbing cock inside his mouth. He finished sucking Jeonghan off with a “pop” sound as he pulled his mouth away, swallowing every drop of his lover's pleasure.
Jeonghan was breathing heavily, his body trembling and eyes wet with tears from the orgasm, softly crying as he called for his fiancé. “Cheollie, baby. Kiss me, I need you to k-kiss me now,” he stammered, opening his arms, asking for his man’s touch. Seungcheol immediately granted his wish, kissing Jeonghan’s swollen lips in a slow, passion-filled kiss, reveling in the touch of the other man's tongue against his own, moaning for Jeonghan alone to hear. He broke the kiss with quick pecks, cupping Jeonghan’s face with both hands and kissing every inch of his tear-streaked face, never failing to find him adorable after his orgasm.
“I fucking love you too, Hannie. Did you know that?” He whispered against the other man’s mouth, chuckling softly as Jeonghan simply nodded, gratefully accepting the caresses Seungcheol gave his hair. “My Jeonghan.” Kiss. “My angel,” another kiss. “My beautiful fiancé,” another kiss. “Forever mine and mine only,” Seungcheol said, peppering Jeonghan's mouth with small kisses, which Jeonghan returned with a fond smile.
Jeonghan kept his eyes closed, savoring every second of the affection he received from his man. Soft sounds of contentment slipped from his lips as Seungcheol’s touch glided over his skin, gentle, familiar, comforting. “Do I really have to let you go?” Seungcheol asked, pouting slightly, his tone almost childlike in an attempt to make him stay. “I don’t know… something tells me you should stay here with me today,” the older man murmured, his fingers tracing lazy circles on the blonde’s bare back as if trying to etch that moment into his skin.
“You know I love that place, and I have an important meeting with Minghao today.” Jeonghan opened his eyes, a faint smile curling on his lips as he placed a quick kiss on his fiancé’s pout before getting out of bed. The morning light spilled gently over his naked body as he stood beside it. “And you, if I remember correctly, have a photoshoot for the new release. So, come on.”
He extended a hand toward Seungcheol, silently inviting him to get up so they could start getting ready. Seungcheol took his hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the ring on his fiancé’s left hand before standing. Then, together, they headed to the bathroom, ready to wash away any trace of what they had just shared before facing the world again, looking decent enough to hide it.
~~~~~
After a while, Seungcheol was already dressed and moving around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the two of them. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, warm and inviting, while Jeonghan, ever the perfectionist, stood before the mirror applying a soft shade of pink gloss on his lips. “Kiss.” He demanded playfully as he approached Seungcheol, who was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping his black coffee. Seungcheol smiled and leaned in for a quick peck, ending up with a faint shimmer of pink on his own lips. “Now you’re perfect,” Jeonghan teased, laughing as he settled beside him and reached for fruit, toast, and a mug of hot coffee.
They had lived this same quiet rhythm for years, two people who had long since become one in life. Jeonghan met Seungcheol back in high school, and being the hopeless romantic as ever, he liked to say it was love at first sight. Seungcheol had been the golden boy, the popular captain of the basketball team, while Jeonghan was just the quiet nerd who loves art, and secretly, Seungcheol.
The first time Seungcheol noticed Jeonghan had been by pure accident. He was running late for class and barged into the wrong room, only to find Jeonghan alone in the art studio, completely absorbed in his painting. Sitting on a stool with his back to the door, headphones on, Jeonghan didn’t even notice him. On the canvas, rendered in delicate watercolor strokes, was Seungcheol’s own face. Confused, he stepped closer, curiosity tugging at him. The boy’s long golden hair was tied up with a paintbrush, strands falling messy yet deliberately beautiful. It was an image Seungcheol knew he’d never forget.
They stayed like that for nearly an hour: Jeonghan painting, Seungcheol standing motionless a few steps away, silently fascinated. His missed class was long forgotten. When Jeonghan finally finished, he removed his headphones and let out a deep sigh. A tired, almost sorrowful sound, as if the painting itself hurt him. The pain of wanting something he knew he couldn’t have.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” Seungcheol’s voice made him jump. Startled, Jeonghan spun around so fast he nearly fell off the stool, and would have hit the ground if Seungcheol hadn’t caught him in time. The blond froze, his flushed face framed by pale hair, completely overwhelmed. “What are you doing here?” he stammered, trying to wriggle free and hide the canvas behind him.
“I think I should be the one asking why you were painting me, don’t you think?” Seungcheol chuckled, utterly enchanted. When he released him and turned back to the canvas, the question answered itself. The brushwork was tender, reverent, almost aching in its detail. It seemed impossible that water and pigment could create something so beautiful, or maybe it was simply that the artist made everything beautiful. “Jeonghan, right?” he asked, reading the name signed in the corner of the canvas. The blond could only nod, mute, exposed, unable to believe his secret had been seen by the one person it was meant to be hidden.
From that day on, Seungcheol was hooked. He found any excuse to get closer, he joined art classes, hung around music club meetings… any excuse just to cross paths. Meanwhile, Jeonghan lived in a haze of disbelief, he never thought that The Seungcheol from the basketball team would not only notice him, but now seemed determined to stay by his side.
People say classics never die, and they were the proof. Jeonghan fell first, but Seungcheol fell harder, so deeply it carried through the years.
Upon graduating high school, they both headed to the same university. For Seungcheol, the thought of distance was unbearable. Wherever Jeonghan went, he followed. One heart, two bodies. A shadow in love with its light.
Jeonghan majored in fashion design; Seungcheol studied architecture. Now, Jeonghan owns one of South Korea’s most celebrated and exclusive fashion brands. His shows have become coveted events, and his creations are objects of desire. And in every new art, Seungcheol still sees traces of the boy who once painted him with trembling hands.
Seungcheol is now the brand’s main model, rarely practicing architecture except for small projects for friends and family. His masterpiece, however, is the home they share: every wall, window, and color was chosen to reflect Jeonghan’s dreams. Their forever house, Jeonghan likes to call. It’s where they plan to grow old together, the place where their love keeps deepening.
And it was in the kitchen of that very home that they found themselves now, ten years after their first meeting. The ticking clock, the drifting smell of coffee, the soft light spilling through the curtains, it all felt like a memory that never stopped breathing.
Seungcheol watched Jeonghan for a moment in silence. He could still see the golden-haired boy with a paintbrush in his hair, still feel the calm in those eyes that had undone him all those years ago. Sometimes, he wondered how his life would’ve turned out if he hadn’t opened that wrong door. He’d probably have followed the usual path: basketball, friends, parties. But fate had stumbled, and in that stumble he had found something far greater: a love that gave meaning to his mornings and made even silence feel like home.
Jeonghan noticed his distant smile. “What are you thinking about?”
“Luck,” Seungcheol murmured softly. Jeonghan smiled faintly, the same soft curve that had once undone him years ago. “Ready to go?” he asked, leaning in for a quick kiss that tasted like coffee and familiarity.
As he pulled away, he stood and began tidying the kitchen, placing dishes and cups into the dishwasher with the ease of someone long used to the rhythm of their mornings. He wiped the table, threw away the remnants of breakfast.
Seungcheol just nodded, his gaze still soft. He grabbed the leather jacket draped over his chair, finished the last sip of coffee, and stood up too. The sound of the chair scraping against the floor broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them.
While Jeonghan finished closing the dishwasher, Seungcheol calmly gathered his things: phone, wallet, car keys, all in the same practiced motion of a man who had done it a thousand times before. Before leaving, he glanced around one last time: the smell of coffee still lingered in the air, mingling with Jeonghan’s light, sweet scent. For a second, he thought about how these simple mornings were what truly made life good.
Together, they walked to the garage, where the car was waiting. Sunlight spilling through the windows, warming the stillness between them as the day began.
~~~~~
They drove for about twenty minutes before reaching the building that housed Jeonghan’s company: a tall, elegant tower of seventeen floors, home to the empire the blond had built over the years. The car slid into its usual parking space, and soon the two of them were stepping out onto the floor dedicated to the design department, where they were immediately greeted by a very displeased Minghao.
“I don’t even need to say you’re both extremely late, do I?” The chinese man, his chestnut hair brushing the base of his neck, asked rhetorically without waiting for an answer. His sharp gaze swept over Seungcheol from head to toe, silently blaming him for the delay; almost two hours past the meeting time, and, to be fair, he wasn’t wrong.
Xu Minghao had been one of Jeonghan’s closest friends since high school. Bound by art, they shared a connection that ran deeper than words, something close to brotherhood. Though the company and the brand were under Jeonghan’s name, Minghao had stood beside him through every step of its rise, shaping the vision that made it a phenomenon. His devotion was also why he held the title of creative director, being one of the brilliant minds behind every masterpiece born within those walls.
Minghao started down the hall toward the conference room, with Jeonghan and Seungcheol following in silence. The click of their shoes echoed against the polished floor, mingling with the colorful hum of the space, the walls lined with vibrant tones and framed pieces that immortalized past creations.
When they entered, the room was already full. Every member of the development team for the brand’s upcoming collection stood to greet Jeonghan with a respectful bow. He returned their gesture with a soft smile before taking his rightful place at the head of the table. Minghao sat to his right, calm and composed, while Seungcheol settled into the chair on his left, next to the brand’s other model, Kim Mingyu.
“So,” Mingyu whispered, leaning closer with a teasing grin, “what was so important that you had to keep us waiting for two hours?”
“The same thing you and that one were doing in your office last friday. Everybody heard it.” Seungcheol shot back, never breaking his conspiratorial tone or his gaze on Minghao, who was deep into his new concept presentation. Mingyu froze mid-laugh, his grin fading instantly.
Seungcheol’s lips curved in quiet amusement as he nudged Mingyu’s knee beneath the table. It was a harmless bluff, no one had actually heard a thing. He was simply fulfilling his best-friend duty: merciless teasing.
With Minghao as Jeonghan’s closest friend and Mingyu as Seungcheol’s, it was no surprise to either of them that the two had ended up involved. Neither Jeonghan nor Seungcheol disapproved, as long as, in Jeonghan’s words “it didn’t interfere with the company’s work” or, in Seungcheol’s more playful version, “no one ended up with a broken heart.”
The meeting stretched on for nearly the entire day; the sun was already sinking beyond the wide glass windows when they finally stepped out of the room. At least every detail of the new launch had been settled. Everyone would be working relentlessly to make sure everything turned out flawless. The concept drew entirely from the essence of summer, pieces inspired by boho chic and neo-grunge aesthetics. The style made Seungcheol’s and Mingyu’s eyes light up; it fit them perfectly, both men exuding the kind of energy that could bring a brand to life just by wearing it.
Afterward, some designers were already back at their desks, sketching the first outlines of the collection.
“I know I say this every launch, but you two really nailed it this time,” Seungcheol said, slipping an arm around Jeonghan’s waist and brushing a quick kiss against his temple. His words were meant for the two directors, who smiled in quiet satisfaction at the models’ approval.
“It’s a shame the meeting ran longer than expected. If it were up to me, I’d be in the studio right now, taking every picture possible,” Mingyu teased, his tone playful yet charged, a hint that only Minghao would catch. “Well, maybe we can get a little head start…” Minghao replied, his smile carrying the same suggestive edge.
“Okay! Time to go home!” Jeonghan announced, clapping his hands together in a tone a little louder than necessary, tugging firmly at Seungcheol’s arm and practically dragging him toward the elevator. He had no intention of sticking around to witness or learn anything about his best friend’s sex life, especially when it involved his fiancé’s best friend.
“You two make sure you clean up whatever mess you make in that studio,” Jeonghan called out between laughs. “I don’t want to find anything sticky or a condom lying around when we get there tomorrow for the photoshoot. Bye!”
Still laughing, he walked away with Seungcheol, who was grinning just as wide, his thumb brushing over the delicate hand resting against his bicep.
“I still don’t get how those two ended up together. They’re so… different. It just doesn’t make sense,” Seungcheol said as they stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the parking level.
“Right? I mean… my Hao and your Gyu? It’s completely insane.” They both burst out laughing, sharing soft touches and playful smiles as the elevator descended.
“Well, as long as they’re good to each other, I’m good with it,” Jeonghan replied once the doors opened.
“Hungry?” Seungcheol asked while they walked through the garage toward the car. He opened the door for Jeonghan, closing it gently before moving to the driver's side, where he slid behind the wheel and pulled away immediately.
“Starving. Can we have pasta? The one you make with meatballs and red sauce. I swear I could eat a ton of that right now,” Jeonghan said, resting his left hand on the back of Seungcheol’s neck and lightly threading his fingers through the short hair there; a quiet, familiar habit that had followed them through years of car rides.
“Of course, babe. Whatever you want,” Seungcheol answered softly, smiling as he kept his eyes on the traffic ahead, enjoying the warmth of the touch against his skin.
By then, night had fully taken over the sky, lit by stars and the glow of the city around them. He drove the route they took almost every day, steady, unhurried, but always aware of the road.
Jeonghan, usually talkative and full of curiosity, was quieter than usual, quietly humming along with the song playing on the radio. Seungcheol knew he must’ve been drained after leading the day’s long meeting, so he let the silence linger, wanting nothing more than to get home, sink into each other’s arms, and let the exhaustion fade away. And that, in many ways, defined them. No matter how exhausting the day had been, no matter if they’d argued or disagreed, they never went to sleep without each other’s touch. Never without the warmth and comfort that only the arms of the one you love could bring.
Seungcheol noticed the singing had stopped. A quick glance to his right revealed Jeonghan fast asleep. His face soft, peaceful, his hand still resting against Seungcheol’s neck, tracing lazy circles in a half-conscious gesture. The sight made him smile, warmth blooming quietly in his chest. The light ahead turned green, and he pressed gently on the accelerator, the car gliding forward. They were only a few meters from home when everything changed.
The impact came without warning. Brutal, merciless, like the world had been torn from its axis. A deafening metallic crash split the air as something slammed violently into Jeonghan’s side of the car. Time fractured. The vehicle spun, glass shattered in a sharp, shrieking cry, and Seungcheol’s vision filled with flashes of light and streaks of shadow. He felt his body thrust forward, the seatbelt cutting into his chest as the car flipped once, twice, three times, until he lost count.
The acrid smell of gasoline and burning metal filled the air. Each jolt sent his head colliding with the steering wheel, and soon a hot liquid began to trickle down his forehead, blurring his vision, mingling with the coppery taste now flooding his mouth. The car finally came to a stop, or at least it felt that way, after colliding with something else. Then came the silence.
The music had stopped. The radio hissed faintly, a low, ghostly static. The world hung still, caught in a dead, suspended instant. And the soft touch at his neck was gone. “Jeonghan…” he tried to call, but his voice didn’t come. His throat burned. His lungs screamed for air. The pounding in his head was suffocating. He tried to move, but his limbs refused. All he could feel was the seatbelt pinning him down and the blood sliding over his chin.
Outside, there were sounds. Hurried voices, footsteps, horns, sirens in the distance. Help would come, he knew it would, but panic clawed at his chest. He needed to see Jeonghan. Needed to know he was okay. He tried to open his eyes again, but the world was nothing but a blur of red and black. He reached out blindly, searching for the warmth beside him, but his arm didn’t respond.
His heart was beating too fast, desperate, threatening to tear through his ribs. His breath hitched, shallow and broken, as the edges of his consciousness began to fade. Fear swallowed him whole, a sharp, searing pain radiating through every nerve. He tried one last time to call his fiancé’s name, but the word died inside him, devoured by the silence.
The world began to dissolve. The sirens grew faint, like echoes from a dream. And in those final, flickering moments, only one image remained: Jeonghan’s face. That gentle smile. The touch on his neck. The quiet gleam in his eyes.
Then everything went dark.
And the silence took him.
~~~~~
Seungcheol felt the weight of his own body, as if the air itself had thickened, making it hard to breathe. Every muscle ached, pulsing with pain, and his head throbbed in an uneven rhythm. His face and neck burned with a sharp, stinging pain, as if his skin had been sliced open. Somewhere far off, machines beeped in steady patterns, metallic and distant, while muffled voices drifted in and out like echoes underwater. “Shut up, I want to sleep,” he thought, though no sound came out of his mouth. His body felt unbearably heavy; even if he tried, he couldn’t move. Sleep brushed against him, then slipped away, leaving only exhaustion behind. Slowly, awareness began to settle in, forcing him to notice every detail. The light was too bright, too white, and it hurt his eyes. This wasn’t his home. Jeonghan hated bright lights. Jeonghan. The thought made his heart stumble in his chest. There was too much noise, too many unfamiliar voices, and the constant beeping of machines. Why were there strangers in his house? “Jeonghan, you didn’t tell me we were having guests,” he thought. Jeonghan. Another heartbeat.
“...It’s a miracle they’re both alive. There’s nothing left of the car.” Hansol’s trembling voice cut through the silence. His younger brother. Finally, something familiar amid the chaos. He felt the warm pressure of Hansol’s hand around his own, that touch grounding him, pulling him back to the surface. “A miracle? What car?” he thought, tightening the grip on his hand.
“Hyung? Hyung, can you hear me?” Hansol’s voice echoed again, louder this time, trembling between panic and hope.
“You’re too damn loud…” Seungcheol rasped, his voice hoarse and uneven as his eyes fluttered open. The world came into focus piece by piece: white walls, cold air, the sterile sting of disinfectant. A hospital? What the hell…? His gaze swept the room. The noisy machines were connected to him, and as his eyes drifted downward, he understood why his whole body screamed in pain. Bandages covered his chest and arms, some faintly stained red where the wounds still insisted on bleeding through.
He looked around. Hansol was there, eyes swollen and red, evidence of hours spent crying. Yet he smiled, small and relieved, clutching Seungcheol’s hand like an anchor. Behind him stood Seungkwan, his boyfriend, watching with worried eyes while gently rubbing Hansol’s tense shoulders. Their parents were there too. His mother, teary-eyed beside the bed; his father, on the other side, holding his other hand, a heavy worry clouding his gaze. Two women in white coats completed the scene. Doctors, he guessed. Seungcheol’s eyes scanned the room once more, searching. Jeonghan. Where was Jeonghan?
Then the memories struck without warning, brutal. The crash. The spinning car. The shatter of glass. The metallic taste of blood still clinging to his tongue. His heart raced, sending the monitors into a frantic chorus of beeps. “Where’s Jeonghan? What happened to him?” he asked, his voice breaking as he tried to sit up, only for his body to fail him, heavy and unresponsive, collapsing back against the bed.
“Son, Jeonghan’s in the room next door. His family’s there with him too.” His father’s voice was calm, each word chosen carefully, as if gentleness alone could keep him from breaking. He ran a slow hand through his son’s hair, a quiet gesture of comfort.
“Jeonghan is stable. He woke up yesterday. His vitals look good, and his family’s been by his side. You’ll be able to see him soon, but we still need to run a few more tests to make sure your body’s okay.” The doctor spoke with professional ease, though warmth lingered beneath the tone, jotting notes onto her clipboard while watching the monitors.
“He woke up yesterday? What do you mean?” Seungcheol asked, confusion flickering across his face. “How long was I out?”
“Four days, hyung,” Hansol said softly, his voice trembling. “A truck ran the red light and hit the car you and Jeonghan hyung were in. There was almost nothing left after the crash and the fire. It’s honestly a miracle you both survived.” The words broke apart between breaths, and when he finished, Hansol leaned forward, pressing his forehead to his brother’s chest, his body shaking as the tears finally came, raw, frightened, and full of relief.
Seungcheol’s eyes shifted toward their parents and Seungkwan, the weight of Hansol’s words sinking in, pressing hard against his ribs. His brother’s tears struck something deep inside him. Hansol had never been the kind to cry; he always held himself together. Seeing him unravel like that made the world feel suddenly, painfully real. Each sob hit the room like the sound of truth.
“I’m fine, Hansollie. Your brother’s not going anywhere,” Seungcheol murmured with a faint, exhausted smile, glancing at Seungkwan, who was now gently rubbing his boyfriend’s back. “I’m just… really glad you’re okay, hyung,” Seungkwan whispered, his voice tight but his smile filled with a quiet relief.
As the full weight of the situation sank in, Seungcheol felt nothing but relief. It still seemed impossible to believe he had come so close to losing his life, and worse, that the same accident had nearly taken the person he loved most in the world. Even with his family and the doctors assuring him that Jeonghan was safe, he needed to see it for himself. He needed to touch him. He needed to feel that Jeonghan was truly there, alive, and that all of it had been nothing more than a cruel scare.
The doctors ran a few more tests, ordered some scans, and finally administered medication that dulled the throbbing pain consuming him. Exhausted, Seungcheol drifted into sleep within minutes, his family gathered close around him, the weight of everything still pressing on his chest. His body was heavy, his thoughts blurred.
When he awoke the next morning, the world felt lighter somehow. The pain remained, but it no longer devoured him; only faint twinges lingered, small reminders that the crash had been real, not a distant nightmare fading with dawn.
When he opened his eyes, the room was quieter, his parents and brother were gone, but two familiar figures caught his attention: Minghao and Mingyu were there. The sight made him chuckle softly. They looked unmistakably like a couple, and he nearly teased them about it, though he decided to save the comment for later.
“You two scared the shit out of us, you know that?” Minghao said when he noticed Seungcheol was awake. He rose from the couch beside Mingyu and approached, resting a careful hand on Seungcheol’s arm.
“I'm so glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you to annoy me every day,” Mingyu added, pouting in that familiar, boyish way of his. Despite the tall frame, the broad shoulders, and that intimidating presence, there was still something of the toothless kid who used to show up at his door twenty years ago, begging him to play soccer after school. And he meant it, he couldn’t imagine life without his childhood friend. His whiny tone earned an eye roll from Minghao.
“Well, looks like you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Seungcheol joked, adjusting himself to sit upright on the bed.
Moments later, a doctor and nurse stepped into the room for the routine checks. They examined his vitals, inspected the bandages, tested reflexes and pain response. “You’re doing great, Mr. Choi,” the doctor said with a brief smile. “The other doctors mentioned your husband is in the next room and that you’ve been asking to see him. You’re cleared for a visit. His family’s probably there now, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
The doctor finished his notes, scribbled a few prescriptions, and went over the discharge instructions before leaving. “Husband, huh?” Seungcheol mused, a small smile tugging at his lips at the word.
Mingyu and Minghao had listened to everything, already planning how to help their friends through recovery. As soon as the doctor and nurse left, Seungcheol was out of bed, with Mingyu’s help, trading the hospital gown for his own clothes, the same ones his mother had dropped off the night before.
Jeonghan’s room was just a few steps away from his own, yet walking that short corridor felt endless. Each step dragged, every breath came heavier, as if the hallway stretched further with every second, taunting him with distance.
He knocked softly before stepping inside, followed by Mingyu and Minghao. The two went straight to the blond man sitting on the edge of the bed, still fragile but upright, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt as he prepared to leave.
“Jeonghan hyunnng, thank God you’re okay!” Mingyu blurted out, using the same whiny tone he’d used with Seungcheol minutes earlier, earning another exasperated sigh and eye roll from Minghao. Jeonghan let out a quiet laugh, wrapping both friends in his arms at once. The simple touch loosened the tightness in his chest; for a brief, stolen moment, despite the weight of everything that had changed since the accident, it felt like the world was still the same. Or at least, he wanted to believe it was.
Seungcheol barely had time to speak before Jeonghan’s mother wrapped him in a tight hug. The scent of her shampoo mixed with the sterile air of the hospital, grounding him in something achingly human. Her hands found his, squeezing gently, her eyes shimmering with tears of relief. “How are you, sweetheart? Are you in pain?” she asked, her voice gentle and full of affection.
“You can stay with us for a while, if you need help,” Jeonghan’s father added, resting a steady hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder. He wasn’t a man of many words, but the quiet sincerity of the gesture was enough to warm Seungcheol’s heart. In that moment, he felt deeply, quietly grateful for the kindness, for the care, for being embraced by the family of the man he loved. That was enough to make Seungcheol’s throat tighten.
“Seriously, let the man go see his fiancé! Can't you see he's barely holding himself back from sprinting?" Jisoo, Jeonghan’s younger brother, cut in with a wicked grin, peeling his parents’ hands away from Seungcheol. He laughed, then without bothering with formalities, folded the man into a fierce hug. “If you scare me like that again, I’ll kill you,” he whispered in his ear, all teasing, and then stepped back, clearing a path so Seungcheol could finally reach his lover.
Seungcheol’s eyes burned; tears threatened to spill as he took each trembling step forward. His heart hammered, a tight knot lodged in his throat. When he reached him, hands shaking, he cupped Jeonghan’s face as if he needed proof the features before him were real, and leaned in to kiss him.
Jeonghan turned away.
He caught Seungcheol’s hands and pushed them aside with a hard, cold motion, his gaze sharp and bewildered.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, one brow arching, his voice cutting through the hush of the room. He stared at Seungcheol as if at a stranger, an intruder who presumed an intimacy that didn’t belong to him. And worse, no one, neither family nor friends, moved to stop this man from behaving as if he were someone important in their lives.
“What? Babe, it’s me.” Seungcheol spoke with a faint, almost disbelieving smile, convinced his fiancé was just teasing him. Jeonghan had always been that way, playful, mischievous, the kind of man who could find amusement in almost anything. It was easy to assume he was only trying to lighten the mood.
“And I’m supposed to know you?” the blond shot back, his tone even, almost impatient. His gaze drifted over his parents, his brother, and their friends, as if searching for an explanation that could make sense of what he was hearing.
“Han, what the fuck? It’s Seungcheol, your fiancé! The guy you’ve been in love with since forever, remember?” Minghao’s voice cut in, thick with disbelief and a growing edge of fear, the first to realize what might be happening.
Jeonghan looked back at the man in front of him. His face was composed, unreadable, but his eyes betrayed him, trembling with confusion and something close to terror. The desperation there was so raw it almost hurt to meet it. He turned away for a moment, then faced Minghao again with a small shrug, indifferent, detached, as if someone else’s heart wasn’t breaking right before him.
“I’ve never seen this man before in my life.”