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Namjoon hears a faint constant beeping underneath the layers of headache that sits stubbornly at his right temple. Mustering enough strength to will his eyes open, it takes a few blinks for him to reorient himself and realize he’s on a bed with a pale, blue blanket tucked around him.
He can see movement at the right corner of his eye by the door of the room with only the person’s back visible to him. They seem to be having a serious conversation with another person dressed in a long white coat.
Huh? Am I in a hospital? Namjoon scans his surroundings more thoroughly this time.
After his adamant investigation, he does indeed conclude that he is in a hospital room. For what, he has not the slightest idea.
Namjoon tries shifting a little in place. Big mistake. He groans regretfully feeling a numbing pain in his abdomen.
The sound of him moving caught the attention of the person standing at the door and they turn around.
And Oh Shit.
Namjoon is sweating. He’s sweating on command.
Ok maybe, not on command, but he’s sweating.
He’s sweating from the same reason he has been since high school whenever the good-looking, popular guy he has a massive crush on looks in his direction.
The beautiful mystery person is still looking his way, smiling.
He’s smiling right at him with soft, mussed up hair which seemed like he’s been sleeping on one side for too long. His willowy frame is swaddled up in a warm, oversized brown cardigan that makes him look so painfully adorable. And even from afar, Namjoon admires his high, round cheekbones and possibly the prettiest nose ever been biologically formed from the basis of genetics.
And his smile is heart-shaped.
So Namjoon does what any other virgo would do when they see an exceptionally good-looking person smile in their direction.
He runs.
Except he can’t.
He declares the slight tilt of his body he just attempted, only to fall flat right back to where he just lay, a failure.
“You’re awake,” the stranger urgently paces over to the side of his bed.
If Namjoon thought the man was pretty an estimated five meters from him, he’s far more angelic up close.
“I…” Namjoon putting a lot of effort trying not to slur his words, “...am.”
The man doesn’t seem to notice Namjoon’s mental warfare in trying to form coherent sentences longer than three words in front of him.
“How are you feeling? The doctor said you should be relatively comfortable thanks to the morph— Is there something on my face?”
The angel tries wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in confusion.
“N-no,” Namjoon says, still in a state of disbelieving bewilderment, “I’m feeling fine. I was just– Are you the nurse?”
Mr. Angel tilts his head before a glint of amusement surfaces in his delicately shaped almond eyes. “No, I’m not a nurse. I’m Hoseok. I own a bookstore.”
Namjoon groans in his head. Beautiful, Polite, and Intellectually smart.
“I like books,” Namjoon blurts out. He’s scratching the bed sheet from underneath the blanket now, not knowing what else to say.
The other doesn’t seem to mind, his comment made the other throw his head back in a fit of giggles. And if that didn’t send Namjoon into a deeper gay spiral.
Hoseok props his elbows on the bed’s safety railing, giving him his full, stationary attention now, his smile only growing. “I know you do. You visit my bookstore frequently.”
He finds himself nodding. That makes sense.
Even though he can’t remember anything definitive at all, inwardly, his resolve deflates a little bit.
So he’s just a friend visiting , Namjoon sulks to himself.
Namjoon has no game. This is a statistical fact.
He knows this.
That’s the only explanation he can think of to why someone of Hoseok’s factually divine caliber could be sitting close to him right now looking at him with the most genuine caring gaze his restricting limited-experienced memory he's ever seen.
He lifts his hand about to speak again but he freezes, wide-eyed at what he sees.
There’s a silver band around his finger.
His voice raises to a squeaky stage-whisper.
“I’m married?!”
Namjoon has a billion thoughts running through his head right now. Because not only is he already married but he just had a love at first sight, out-of-body experience with Hoseok, who is not his husband, for the entire fifteen minutes they’ve been talking.
His eyes darted to Hoseok’s hand only to be greeted with the biggest fucking rock Namjoon has ever seen.
Okay, that’s not true, he stops himself in thought, He has a vague memory of how Kim Kardashian’s ring looks.
But still, the diamond sitting on Hoseok’s finger is a taunting mockery at him.
Before Hoseok can even speak up to his question, he couldn’t stomp down his green-eyed curiosity.
“I see that you’re also… married.”
Hoseok raises an eyebrow and stares at where Namjoon’s eyes seem to be looking at his ring.
“Oh! My husband proposed to me seven years ago. We had already graduated fresh out of college,” He held it out closer to Namjoon and the expression of endearment isn't lost to Namjoon.
“I scolded him at first y'know. I felt so bad cause it must’ve cost him a lot of money.”
Namjoon looks away from the ring and shakes his head, giving Hoseok a firmer stare than he actually means to.
“You deserve a ring like that. To him, it would’ve cost him nothing to get that ring but everything to have you.”
He sees Hoseok's mouth go agape.
Then Hoseok covers his mouth to hide his growing smile before clearing his throat. “That’s funny. Cause he said exactly the same thing back then.”
“It’s true,” Namjoon presses on. “Whoever your husband is, he must be really lucky. Like really.”
“Mm,” Hoseok hums before saying, “Joon…”
Something in Namjoon just melts at the way Hoseok says his name. He doesn’t have to think about it too hard but it’s as if his body automatically reacts to the sweetness in the way the other’s voice says it.
Joon.
Just as Hoseok was going to continue, the doctor knocked on the ajar door, stepping inside.
“I’m terribly sorry to disturb the both of you...” to which Hoseok dismisses it lightheartedly with a wave of his hand.
The doctor is carrying a binder and sets it onto the small elevated table at the end of Namjoon’s bed.
“Hello Mr. Kim, your surgery went well without any problems. How are you feeling?” she asks.
“I’m feeling good. I don't really feel any pain anymore,” Namjoon answers.
“That’s great to hear, Mr. Kim,” The doctor nods and comes over next to him, explaining to him that she just needed his vitals.
“I see that you’ve woken up just in time when your husband arrived. He's been here the whole time that one of the nurses gave him a juice box and jello to make sure he had something in his system until you were done,” she says as she puts a thermometer under Namjoon’s tongue, looking at the machine screen scribbling down his other stats.
The gears in Namjoon’s head stops working for a minute.
My husband?
“Mah haas bund ?” he manages to say until the beep of the thermometer sound, his own eyes widening glaring almost comically at Hoseok who looks like he’s about to cry from holding in his laughter.
It seems like the doctor was beginning to catch on and she bites her lip to maintain a face of professionalism.
She quickly flips her binders closed and states that she got all the things she needs for now, obviously familiar with these types of situations.
And when the doors closed, Namjoon makes a big move to sit up to which Hoseok chastises him, still grinning from ear to ear.
“We’re married?!” Namjoon exclaims out loud in disbelief, staring at Hoseok who now has his face planted on the bed, his shoulders shaking from laughter.
It takes a minute for him to recollect himself before looking back up at Namjoon, his face dancing with mirth. “Yes, we’re married."
Hoseok has an innocent, scandalized expression. "Why are you reacting like this?”
Namjoon looks at him with his face evident of utter betrayal.
“Oh yeah, like I’d believe someone like you would even date me. You look like a lead love-interest of a romantic film in the 1950s. Are you kidding me?”
Hoseok rolls his eyes at that though his cheeks are suddenly colored a light pink. “Stop exaggerating.”
“I’m not. When I woke up, I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And then I got nervous when you came over to talk to me. I was gonna make run for it. Probably wouldn't have made it that far to be honest but-,” Namjoon realizes he's rambling, sucking in a breath.
“... I can’t believe we’re married.”
“Well, I found the whole thing really cute,” His husband's eyes shining with fondness.
He rests his head on Namjoon’s shoulders on the inclined bed. “And it’s true by the way."
"What is?"
You said the exact same thing you told me when you proposed to me.”
Namjoon makes an 'o' with his mouth, nodding absentmindedly.
“I still meant it … even though I thought you weren’t my husband,” Namjoon says, feeling like he needs to prove something.
“I believe you,” Hoseok replies simply.
Hoseok’s hands find his own and intertwine their fingers together.
They stay like this for a while in the quietness.
“Hey Hoseok?” Namjoon turns his head over to the side.
“Mm?”
Hoseok's eyelashes flutters up at him and it takes his breath away that he almost forgets his question.
“...What do I call you usually? When we’re like this,” Namjoon asks, still taking in how close Hoseok is to him and how he loves the weight of Hoseok’s head on his shoulder right now.
How it fits like a missing puzzle piece.
“When we’re like what?”
“When we're like this... When your head is on my shoulder and I feel like I'm in love.”
The pads of Hoseok’s thumb caresses over his knuckles in a soothing motion, sliding over the ring on his finger.
“You like to call me your Angel.”
Namjoon finds himself slowly nodding and rests his head on Hoseok’s. He peers down at their hands, feeling a surge of contentment through his veins at the sight.
He admires the way both their rings glimmer under the hospital ceiling lights beside each other.
“Yeah… That sounds about right.”