Chapter Text
Laughter spilled into the air as Suho stepped through the doorway. The soft creak of the hinge drew four pairs of eyes toward him.
“Hey, Suho!” Baku’s booming voice filled the room, crumbs of chips clinging to his grin.
Sieun rose at once, crossing the short distance to steady him.
“No, no, Sieun-ah. No need,” Suho said, grinning as he slipped his hand free from Sieun’s grasp. The gesture was light, but his words drew a faint crease between Sieun’s brows — a flicker of disapproval that Suho chose to ignore.
“The therapist said I should walk without help,” Suho went on, that familiar cocky smile tugging at his lips. “Even the nurse didn’t escort me back. Relax, Sieun.” He gave the younger man’s shoulder a reassuring pat.
Still, Sieun’s gaze held firm — unwavering, wordless, searching. Suho’s grin widened, almost stubbornly, as if he could prove his strength simply by smiling.
For a heartbeat, silence wrapped around them — broken only by the faint crunching of chips from Baku and Gotak.
Suho saw it in Sieun’s eyes: the doubt, the worry, the quiet frustration. It wasn’t new. Since the incident, Sieun had become too careful — in his steps, his tone, even his breath around Suho.
“Yah, Sieun-ssi. What’s that look?” Suho teased, his voice laced with warmth. “Come on. Trust me on this, okay?”
Reluctantly, Sieun stepped aside.
Suho made his way toward the bed, the soft thud of his crutch echoing with every slow step. From the corner of his eye, he caught the wary glances of Gotak, Baku, and Juntae.
It was Baku who broke first, laughter caught somewhere between concern and mockery. “Yeon Sieun, Suho’s right. Just trust him. His therapist probably can’t wait to get rid of him — they’re sick of seeing his face.”
A breath of laughter rippled through the tension. Suho chuckled, leaning his crutch against the bed before climbing onto it. “Shut it, Baku. They love me!” he said, fishing something from the bedside table. “Look.”
He opened his palm — a scatter of candies, lollipops, and wrapped sweets gleaming under the fluorescent light.
“You’re going to get a sugar rush,” Gotak muttered, plucking one before Suho could react. Suho’s scowl came too late.
The room lightened with snickers and the harmless chaos of boys — Baku lunging for more, Juntae giggling at the scuffle, wrappers rustling like laughter itself.
Suho’s gaze found Sieun again. There it was — a small, quiet smile softening his features. The kind of smile that reached the eyes only when the heart finally exhaled.
Relief bloomed in Suho’s chest. Sieun deserved this — the lightness, the laughter — not the weight of guilt or the shadow of what Suho had once taken from him.
The sun bled slowly into the horizon, painting the sky in amber and rose before sinking into violet dusk. Shadows stretched long, then disappeared beneath the soft hush of twilight.
“You all should head home. It’s getting late,” Suho murmured, setting his chopsticks aside. Dinner had been simple — convenience store meals, shared laughter, the kind of comfort that came from routine. He loved it. He loved them. But he couldn’t hold them here any longer.
“Are you sure?” Juntae asked, gathering the empty containers.
Sieun, wordless as ever, took Suho’s tray and gave him that familiar look — the one that said I’ll take care of you whether you want me to or not. Suho sighed and nodded, defeated.
“Yes,” he said softly, still meeting Sieun’s eyes.
Sieun parked the tray cart against the wall.
“You too, Sieun-ah.”
The words stilled him. Sieun turned, his expression firm — almost cold. “Why?” The single word fell heavy in the quiet room.
“You have school tomorrow.”
“It never became a problem before,” Sieun replied, tone steady but tight.
The silence thickened again. Even the others stayed still, afraid to breathe too loud.
Suho exhaled, his voice gentler now. “You need rest, Sieun-ah. The bags under your eyes are darker than before.” His lips quirked faintly. “Your cuteness might fade if you keep this up.”
The joke fell flat.
Sieun didn’t look amused. His gaze sharpened — not angry, but intent, searching for the truth behind Suho’s insistence.
Suho’s smile faltered, but his eyes softened. “I’m here, Sieun-ah. I’m not going anywhere. I’m awake, I’m healing. So take care of yourself too. Stay healthy. You’ll need your strength to welcome me when I’m discharged.”
Something unspoken passed between them — a promise, quiet and certain, that wrapped around them more tightly than words ever could.
Sieun’s shoulders eased. He glanced at the others, who watched in uneasy silence, and guilt pricked at him. Since Suho had woken, Sieun had been different — his emotions no longer hidden, his care too visible. It was good, in a way. It meant trust. But it also made them worry.
“Sieun-ah.”
Suho’s voice drew him back. Their eyes met once more.
“Go home. Rest. You need it. Come again tomorrow, or the next day. I’ll still be here.”
A small, tired smile ghosted over Suho’s lips. “Awake.”
And that was it — the final push.
Sieun couldn’t argue anymore.
Suho was awake.
He was awake.