The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, and the cold white walls did little to comfort the anxiety settling into Beomgyu's chest. He sat stiffly in the waiting area with Taehyun beside him. Across from them, Soobin and Kai were silent—Kai clutching Soobin's hand with pale knuckles, Soobin staring blankly at the ground.
The operation had been long.
The blood loss had been extreme.
The silence was suffocating.
Then—finally—the door opened. The surgeon stepped out, still in scrubs, his mask tugged down to reveal a tired but gentle expression.
"Yeonjun is out of surgery," he said. "He's stable."
Beomgyu stood instantly, heart thudding.
"He's alive?" Kai asked breathlessly.
"Yes," the doctor nodded. "The blade narrowly missed his vital organs, but he lost a lot of blood. We were worried for a while, but… he held on. His vitals are improving now, though he's unconscious. He'll need time and rest, but—he's going to live."
A wave of emotion broke over them all.
Soobin let out a shaky breath, Kai burying his face in Soobin's chest. Taehyun leaned his head back, relief pouring off him in silent tears.
Beomgyu didn't cry—yet. He stood frozen, hands clenched, eyes locked on the ICU door.
"He really did it," he whispered. "He really saved me."
The others gave him space as he quietly made his way to Yeonjun's room.
+×+
Inside the ICU
The room hummed softly with machines. The faint beeping of a heart monitor was the only confirmation that Yeonjun was still here.
Alive.
Beomgyu stepped in slowly. Yeonjun lay still, pale and bandaged, an oxygen tube resting beneath his nose, his lips chapped and dry. He looked so fragile, so unlike the man Beomgyu remembered—and yet still, undeniably, Yeonjun.
Beomgyu pulled the chair up beside the bed and sat down heavily.
For a long moment, he just stared.
Then he reached for Yeonjun's hand—scarred and cold in his own—and held it gently.
"You stupid, reckless idiot," Beomgyu whispered, his voice trembling. "Why did you do that? Why did you have to get in the way?"
He looked down, his vision blurring.
"I wanted to hate you forever. I wanted to move on and pretend you never meant anything to me. You destroyed everything back then… You chose your career, you broke us. And you didn't even fight for me."
His voice cracked. "Do you have any idea what I went through? Alone in the U.S., pretending I was okay? Do you know how much I resented you? How many nights I wanted to forget you, and couldn't?"
Beomgyu wiped angrily at his tears.
"But then you show up. You take a knife for me like some tragic hero… like you're trying to fix everything in one reckless act. And I should still hate you for that."
His grip on Yeonjun's hand tightened.
"But I don't. I can't. Not fully. Because even after everything… even after all the pain… I never stopped loving you."
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Yeonjun's hand gently, his tears soaking the skin.
"I don't forgive you. Not yet. Maybe not for a while. But thank you—for not dying."
He sat there, holding his hand, chest heaving with quiet sobs.
And then—
A faint stir. Fingers twitching beneath his palm.
Beomgyu froze.
Yeonjun's eyes fluttered, then slowly opened, groggy and dazed. His lips barely moved.
"…Beomgyu…?"
Beomgyu gasped, overwhelmed with emotion. "I'm here. I'm right here."
Yeonjun blinked slowly, gaze locking on Beomgyu's tear-streaked face. "You're… safe…?"
Beomgyu let out a choked laugh. "Yeah. Thanks to you."
A fragile smile curved Yeonjun's lips. "Good… I'm glad…"
Beomgyu leaned closer, his forehead gently resting against Yeonjun's.
"Don't do that again. Don't ever leave me like that."
"I won't," Yeonjun whispered. "Not unless you want me to."
"…I don't," Beomgyu admitted, his voice breaking.
In that quiet, broken room, filled with pain, regret, and things left unsaid, something warm began to rise. The beginning of healing. Of trust slowly rebuilding.
Of love, persistent, even after everything.
+×+
A Few Days Later
The sun filtered through the window blinds in slats of gold and gray. Yeonjun lay propped up against his pillows, pale but improving. The oxygen tube was gone now, and most of the wires had been removed. A few IV lines still fed into his arm, but he was no longer in danger. The worst had passed.
Beomgyu sat beside him, carefully peeling an apple and cutting it into small slices. He looked far calmer than he had the past few days—his eyes still tired, but softer. The fear was no longer written all over his face.
Yeonjun watched him for a moment, his throat dry. "You're being too gentle with that apple," he rasped.
Beomgyu looked up, quirking a brow. "I almost lost you, dumbass. You're lucky I didn't come at you with a baseball bat after what you did."
Yeonjun gave a weak laugh. "You crying over me said otherwise."
Beomgyu scoffed, placing a slice into a bowl. "Shut up and eat. You need your strength."
There was a long pause between them, but it wasn't awkward. The silence was full of meaning, of things slowly stitching themselves back together.
Beomgyu eventually glanced over again, quieter this time. "Soobin came by earlier. He said the police finally confirmed it—Mingyu, Junhui, and Vernon were caught. Fully arrested this time."
Yeonjun's body visibly relaxed. "They won't hurt anyone again?"
"No," Beomgyu said. "They're being charged with kidnapping, torture, assault, and a dozen other things. There's no escaping this time. It's over."
Yeonjun's eyes slid closed, a slow breath of relief leaving his lungs. "Thank god…"
"I saw the look in your eyes when Mingyu came after me," Beomgyu said, voice low. "You didn't hesitate."
Yeonjun met his gaze. "I wasn't going to let him touch you. Ever again."
Beomgyu looked away for a moment, lips tight. "You really meant it, huh? That you've changed."
"I meant every word," Yeonjun said. "I still do."
Beomgyu reached over and placed the bowl of apples on the bedside table. Then he sat back down and stared at him. "I'm still hurt, Yeonjun. And I still haven't forgiven you for what happened six years ago. I'm not saying everything's okay."
"I know," Yeonjun said softly. "I'll wait however long it takes."
Beomgyu hesitated, then picked up Yeonjun's hand and laced their fingers slowly together. "But I'm here. I'm willing to try."
Yeonjun's eyes watered, but he smiled—this time, full of gratitude and hope. "That's more than I deserve."
"No," Beomgyu whispered. "Not anymore."
+×+
Days Later
Yeonjun was now able to sit up fully, walk short distances with help, and eat real food again. The color had returned to his face.
Beomgyu came every morning and stayed until evening. He helped Yeonjun stretch his legs, brushed his hair when it got messy, and sometimes read to him just to pass the time. Their bond, once shattered, began to rebuild—not perfectly, not quickly—but with care.
Sometimes they'd laugh.
Sometimes they'd sit in quiet understanding.
Other times, Beomgyu would vent—about the past, about the way Yeonjun made him feel back then. And Yeonjun never argued. He listened, nodded, and took every word as truth, because it was.
But then, in the stillness after those outbursts, Beomgyu stayed. And that was enough.
+×+
One Evening
Beomgyu fluffed Yeonjun's pillow and tucked the blanket around his legs.
"You're annoying when you act like a nurse," Yeonjun said teasingly.
Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to make sure you don't drop dead again, thanks."
Yeonjun reached out and caught Beomgyu's wrist before he could walk away. "Hey."
Beomgyu looked down.
"I missed you," Yeonjun said.
Beomgyu's heart clenched—but he didn't look away this time.
"I missed you too," he whispered.
And for the first time in a long, long while—Yeonjun believed that maybe, just maybe, they had a future again.