Chapter Text
Doyoung takes pride in never worrying. He doesn’t have to because he has everything planned down to the second. He never has to worry about rushing for the bus or the train, never has to think about what to eat for lunch or dinner (he plans most of his meals beforehand), never has to worry over anything because he has everything under control.
Except one thing.
One person, really.
Doyoung contemplates quitting his job as he practically flies up eight flights of stairs, cursing at his lack of physical strength as he goes. The lifts are too slow and it’s only four floors from where he’d parked to the level holding ridiculously wealthy patients; Doyoung had thought it easier than it actually, painfully is. He doesn’t know what pushes him to finally make it to the fourth floor–the anger in his gut or the worry in his heart–but he makes it nevertheless, already thinking up a draft for his resignation letter. Breathless, he scurries towards the nearest reception counter, a little light-headed from all the lack of oxygen he’s getting.
“Lee–Taeyong,” he huffs, to a startled nurse in blue scrubs. She holds the clipboard close to her chest, looking ready to thwack Doyoung’s head with it if he came too close, “I’m looking–for Lee Taeyong.”
“Sir, this is a VIP section only.” She stares at his disheveled appearance, “Are you a family member?”
“No,” Doyoung straightens, awkwardly pulling at his ratty sweater. He’d been lying in bed when Youngho called and he hadn’t thought to grab a proper jacket on the way out, “I’m his secretary.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Only family members are allowed on this floor at this hour.”
Doyoung narrows his eyes, “He’s alone in there–he hasn’t got any family in the country tonight.” The nurse opens her mouth to reject him once more, but Doyoung shakes his head, “I’m his family.”
She stares, “You just said you’re his secretary.”
“I’m also his boyfriend.”
Doyoung would feel a lot more apologetic if he knew the current state Taeyong was in; Youngho’s phone call had been short and uninformative, stammering about how he’d found Taeyong unconscious in his stupid, million-dollar penthouse–what was the point of a twenty-four-hour receptionist if they can’t even make sure their residents aren’t knocked out cold!
“That’s not exactly in their job description, Doyoung,” Youngho had said. Doyoung hadn’t been listening, he was too busy sprinting out of his apartment, car keys clutched in his sweaty hand. “The ambulance is already on its way so don’t speed. I don’t need you unconscious too.”
“Please just let me in,” Doyoung says. He’s resorted to begging now, god, “His friend that brought him in here had a flight to catch so I know he’s in there alone–he really, really doesn’t do well when he’s alone.”
The nurse eyes him for a good five seconds, before sighing and pulling out a visitors’ pass for Doyoung. She taps at the desktop and scribbles Taeyong’s room number on it, “The doctor’s notes here says he’s doing better now, but he needs to stay overnight for further observation. The room is 1601, right at the end of the hall on your left.”
Doyoung barely manages a Thank you because he’s already rushing towards what probably is the biggest suite on this floor, heart furious in his chest. He doesn’t bother knocking, but he does push the door open slowly, poking his head in for a peek.
The room is shrouded in darkness, sans the dim light overhead the hospital bed and the colorful lights on the machine hooked up to Taeyong. He’s lying curled up on a side, back towards the door, and Doyoung feels his shoulders drop. At least he didn’t need to have a ventilator machine to keep breathing.
As quietly as possible, Doyoung slips into the room, walking on light feet as he crosses the unnecessarily spacious room. He slows upon approaching the bed, exhaling softly when he sees that Taeyong is fast asleep. All at once, the worry in his heart leaves his body, and Doyoung feels a wave of exhaustion hit him. He’d been so anxious something had happened to Taeyong–did he fall and hit his head? Did he have too many sweets and crashed on a sugar high? Did he not have any sweets and crashed from that instead?
Doyoung never worries about anything, but when it comes to Taeyong–he worries about everything.
“You scared me,” Doyoung scolds gently, inching close to pat at Taeyong’s hair. He tucks away the strands that’d gone astray, feeling the telltale warmness of a fever on his forehead. He pulls up one of the large bedside chairs as close as he can to the bed, reaching through the rails to continue stroking Taeyong’s hair, simply needing to touch his worrisome boyfriend.
“I was so worried, you know?” Doyoung whispers this into the dark, “On the way here, I couldn’t stop thinking–if something happened–I–I wouldn’t know what to do. I didn’t even get to tell you I love you when you left for your meeting last night.” He quells the desire to yank on Taeyong’s ear, punish him for scaring the living daylights out of Doyoung, “I love you.”
At that, Taeyong starts to stir, and Doyoung sighs in relief. Of course, he knows that the nurse mentioned that Taeyong’ll be fine, but seeing his usually bright and cheery boyfriend all lifeless in bed–Doyoung can’t help but be worried.
“Doyoung?” He reaches for Doyoung’s hand on his cheek, fingers circling Doyoung’s wrist, “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital,” Doyoung mumbles. He strokes the high of Taeyong’s cheek with his thumb, “Youngho found you unconscious in your apartment. Do you remember that?”
Taeyong wakes slowly, blinking the sleepiness away. Sluggishly, he murmurs, “No, I–I don’t remember any of that.”
“It’s alright, honey, you’re okay now,” Doyoung says. Taeyong starts to shift once more and Doyoung rises to his feet, “Do you need anything? Water? Food?”
“Doyoung–”
“I’ve already cancelled all your meetings and any events you promised to appear yet for the next week.” Doyoung pulls his hand way, moving away to fuss around for a glass of water. Taeyong rolls onto his back to watch him, “And I’ve already told Jaehyun and Sicheng that any calls for you have to come through me first, I don’t want you overworking yourself after this whole–event, okay? I–”
“Baby–”
“I should call the nurse,” Doyoung sighs. He fills the cup with water and sticks a straw in it, rounding back to the side of the bed. He holds the straw for Taeyong, and nods when Taeyong takes it with reluctance, “And have a doctor come down and take a look at you again, and I know you don’t exactly need the insurance, but I’ll still have to file for it–just in case it comes up in the future–”
“Can you–”
“I’ll leave this here for you, okay?” Doyoung sets the cup of water within reach, turning to leave, “I’ll go get a nurse, so just–”
“Doyoung.” He turns again at the sound of his name, stilling at the frown on Taeyong’s face, “Could you please–not be my secretary? Not right now?”
Doyoung reaches for Taeyong’s hand, eyes searching his face for any signs of pain, “What? What is it?”
“Nothing,” Taeyong sighs. He struggles to sit up and Doyoung hastily reaches over to help fluff the pillows, “I just–don’t feel so good and I–”
“Okay, wait here, I’ll call the doctor and–”
“Stay with me, please, just lie here with me,” Taeyong mumbles. In the hospital gown, his thin frame stands out even more, and Doyoung can’t decide between listening and rushing out to find a doctor, “I don’t want to be alone right now and I want my boyfriend, not my secretary.”
Doyoung makes a face, “But are you hurting? I’ll be right back, it won’t even take a minute–”
“I’m okay,” Taeyong insists. He pulls on Doyoung’s wrist, alarmingly weak, until Doyoung is resting on the edge of the bed, one foot still planted on the floor. “It’s just–I remember being in the ambulance and I was–alone.”
Doyoung sighs, “Baby–”
“I wanted them to call you, but I couldn’t speak.” Taeyong’s eyes widen, and he tugs on Doyoung harder, enough to have Doyoung assenting, climbing into bed. He has the mind to kick his shoes off before pulling the blanket up to crawl under it. Taeyong curls to rest on Doyoung’s chest, speaking softly, “I hated it.”
“I’m sorry,” Doyoung mumbles. He hugs Taeyong tighter, tries to keep his shoulders from shaking, “I should’ve been there and I should’ve been by your side, I–”
“Please move in with me.”
Doyoung’s hand stills, “What?”
“Move in with me.” Taeyong buries his face into Doyoung’s sweater, breathing him in, “You know I don’t do well alone and if you were there when I fell, I wouldn’t have been so–scared being alone in the ambulance, Doyoung, I needed you there, I really needed you–”
Doyoung doesn’t know what to make of this. As much as he wanted to move in with Taeyong, he doesn’t want it to happen just because they’re both rushed into it. He fidgets, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea–” Taeyong pushes against him immediately, and Doyoung firms his grip, rushes to amend, “I want to move in with you, I do–I do.” He feels Taeyong relax against him, “But I also want us to be ready for it.”
Taeyong whispers, “You’re not ready?”
“I want to be,” Doyoung kisses his crown. “But we have to think about our jobs, your family, how we’re going to split rent–”
“Rent–”
“Yes, rent.” Doyoung clicks his tongue, “I don’t care if you’ve got billions of dollars in your bank account, I’m still going to pay rent–I’m not going to leech off you.” He cradles Taeyong close, “What if I came to live with you over the weekends? Just so we can test out living together?”
Taeyong considers this, “Friday to Tuesday.”
“That’s five days of the week.”
“Friday to Monday then.” Taeyong hooks his legs with Doyoung’s, “Please? I’m sick.”
Doyoung pulls away, “Are you faking it?”
Taeyong looks up, round eyes so wide that if Doyoung didn’t know any better, he would think it to be one of innocence. “Right now, I am,” he admits. Then mumbles, “But I was really scared earlier–I’ve never felt anything like it.”
Doyoung settles back against the pillow, “I’m sorry–I’ll ask the nurse later if I can get an extra bed in here to stay with you tonight.”
“Just sleep here with me.”
Doyoung laughs, “And what if a nurse walks in on us? Or your doctor?”
“I don’t really care,” Taeyong sniffs. His fingers dig deeper into Doyoung’s sweater, refusing to let go, “Want you here.”
Doyoung gives in, because he’ll always give in when it comes to Taeyong. He allows himself to relax, now that Taeyong’s safe and in his arms, “I want to be here too–and I will be, so rest now, okay? You’ve had a long day.”
“Promise you won’t go anywhere?”
While he occasionally had a distaste for Taeyong’s stick affection, he must admit that it is endearing at times, “I promise.”
“Okay.” Taeyong sighs, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And as Taeyong succumbs to sleep, Doyoung thinks up a plan to get out of bed, talk to Taeyong’s doctor and get back in without the boy noticing. While he could rightfully be one of the world’s richest billionaires and his very stubborn boss, Taeyong is still very much first the love of Doyoung’s life and there is absolutely no way he’s going to let Taeyong brush off any concerns relating to his health.