Work Text:
Should he? Should he not?
For what felt like hours, Wooju debated with himself in front of Inspector Song's ward room, fidgeting and frowning; it's starting to draw weird looks from passersby and nurses.
Wooju sighed, his shoulders drooped. Maybe he shouldn't have come. Not when Chief Kook had just broken the news about Inspector Song's resignation to him. The man might suspect things from his visit and the last thing Wooju wanted was for the awkwardness between them to return.
Then again, it was his own fault for coming here in the first place. He really should've learned to think twice before doing anything. Another sigh escaped his mouth. Wooju turned around, then gasped in surprise at the sudden appearance of a woman in her fifties with the kindest smile and eyes he'd ever seen.
Inspector Song's mother.
“Hello, ma'am.” He automatically bowed once he recognized her.
“Oh? Aren't you Hayoung's colleague? Jung... What's your name again?”
“Jung Wooju, ma'am.”
“That's right! Jung Wooju-ssi. How could I forget such a unique name?” She laughed, abashed. “But what are you doing here outside? Aren't you visiting Hayoung?”
At that, Wooju stammered, fumbling for words. “O-Oh, it's okay. I don't want to disturb Inspector Song's rest. I heard he's in rehab.”
“Yes, he is, but he's already done for today, so don't worry and just come in. Here, here. I'm sure he won't mind seeing his junior. Come in, come.”
Before he could even think of a response, he found himself being dragged by Inspector Song's mother into the ward room.
“Hayoung-ah, your junior from work is here!” she animatedly announced as they entered the place, and Wooju briefly considered breaking free from her grasp to run away from here right this instant. But that would be rude, so he forced his legs to move anyway until they reached the inspector's bed.
He could see a hint of surprise and confusion on Inspector Song's face when their eyes met shortly after that. And truthfully, he could commiserate. “Hello, Inspector,” Wooju greeted nevertheless, and smiled.
“Oh...” Inspector Song nodded in response, somewhat unsure. Then he shot a look at his mother, whose smile only widened before she spoke.
“You two go ahead and talk. I'm going down to the cafeteria for some food. Hayoung-ah, what do you want to eat? I'll buy it for you.”
“You don't have to. I'm not hungry.”
She gave her son a light slap on his arm, frowning. “What do you mean you're not hungry? It's almost lunchtime. Wooju-ssi, what would you like to eat? I'll buy some for you, too. You must haven't eaten yet, right?” She then swiftly placed a hand on Wooju's arm before he could open his mouth to decline, and blinked her kind brown eyes at him. “Don't worry, just accept it,” she added.
He didn't exactly have a choice, did he? It seemed so from the way Inspector Song had glanced at him and then scratched his eyebrow. Wooju hesitated for a beat longer before saying, “W-Well... I'm not a picky eater, so you can just buy anything for me. Thank you for your kindness, ma'am!” He bowed deeply at her.
“I see... I get it. Then, I'm going. You two go ahead and talk.” She gave Inspector Song's shoulder a small pat, nodded at Wooju, and then left the room with her purse and a soft thud of the door.
Silence reigned over them for a moment afterward until Inspector Song spoke.
“Sorry about that. My mom's always like that with everyone who knows me. Please, have a seat.” Inspector Song gestured for him to sit down on the chair by his bedside.
Awkwardly, Wooju nodded and sat down, and then looked at anywhere but the inspector's face. For a brief while, his gaze landed on the wheelchair, sitting unobtrusively on the other side of the bed.
“This isn't your first time visiting me, right?”
In an instant Wooju turned at Inspector Song, who spoke again, wide-eyed. “Yes? O-Oh, yes, it's not. I came here once with Chief Kook and Yoon— I mean, Reporter Choi. You were still unconscious at that time. But how did you know?”
“My mom. She told me many of my colleagues came to visit back then.”
“I see, it's your mom.” Of course, it's his mom. Who else do you think it'll be? Pursing his lips, Wooju stalled for a moment as he came up for other things to say, things that were anything but work. Before long his gaze found the wheelchair again. “How... have you been doing? I heard you've started on your rehab.”
Inspector Song hummed in response, nodding. “Just started it this week. It's nothing serious. Just relearning how to walk and all that. I've been in coma for quite some time, after all.”
“I will constantly pray for your fast recovery, Inspector Song.” Wooju watched as a smile graced the man's features, so small he might've missed it had he not looked properly. But there's something different about the small smile today. It didn't brim with immense kindness, nor did it beam with a hint of joy. Instead, there's apparent weariness in the curve of his lips, as well as traces of grief, palpable and ardent.
Wooju's heart twinged.
“Inspector Song,” he called and the man looked. “I... have something to tell you.” Inhaling deeply, he straightened up in his seat, looked Inspector Song in the eye, and then said, “Inspector Song, I don't mind if you don't want to come back to the team. If that's what makes you happy and feel better, then you should do it.” As an afterthought he added, “Well, that's what I think.”
For a minute, Inspector Song said nothing, only stared at Wooju with an unreadable look that could mean anything and everything. The silence was agitating, suffocating. Wooju began to second guess his decision. Maybe he'd done something wrong by bringing that matter up. Maybe he should've kept his mouth shut. Mentally, he berated himself. Fists curled on his lap, Wooju mustered up his courage, strung together the words and then opened his mouth again.
“I'm sor—”
“Thank you.”
His head snapped up to look at Inspector Song. “Sorry? W-What did you just say?”
“Thank you,” the inspector repeated, gaze and expression seemingly softened.
All words vanished from Wooju's head and he fell silent for what felt like hours before he finally managed, “What... for?”
“Just... For being understanding.”
“Ah... But it's nothing. I mean, it's hard, your job, but I can't imagine how hard it actually is. I can only try to imagine, and then understand it. But no matter how hard I try, ultimately, it's just my idea of what you do and go through.”
Inspector Song merely nodded in response, thoughtful. Then, a heavy and weary sigh escaped his mouth and Wooju somehow felt it, the great weight of all the words left unsaid.
Not knowing quite how to react, Wooju bit the inside of his cheek and remained silent and still.
“Anyway, it must've scared you, right? Sorry for worrying all of you,” Inspector Song said, with a smile that never reached his eyes.
“Don't apologize for that,” Wooju blurted out, earning the inspector's attention. “You have always been the quietest, so no one truly knows if you're alright or not. We just can believe what you told us and that's it. That's why”—he took a deep breath, eyes fixed intently on the other man's face—“I'm totally okay if you want out of this. Me and Chief Kook, too. We both just want you to feel better again. And if not coming back to the team is the best for you, then so be it. Whatever your decision is, we will always support you. But... it might be hard for me to handle all of Chief Kook's jokes alone if you leave.” Wooju laughed softly.
Inspector Song looked at him, and didn't say a word. There's something swirling behind his eyes, Wooju noticed. Something sad and pensive. Something that tugged at his heartstrings. Before long the inspector turned away, inhaled deeply and let out yet another heavy sigh, eyes now glistening with tears that in the end never managed to flow like a river.
And Wooju curled his fingers back into a fist, so he wouldn't reach out and place a hand on Inspector Song's, and instead looked on, helpless, as the man drank in his feelings.
For a moment afterward, they sat in shared silence, breathing and living within the confine of the ward room.
Inspector Song's mother came in some time later with plastic bags full of lunchboxes and a radiant smile that brought back light to the place. Soon, the tantalizing fragrance of the food drifted in the air and filled the room as they set the table, carefully so not to spill any of it onto Inspector Song's bed. Wooju couldn't help but chuckle when the woman complained about the size of the table and Inspector Song gently reminded her that it was an overbed table, meant for patient's personal use rather than this type of occasion.
His phone rang just then. Alerted, Wooju fished it out of his jeans pocket, wondering if it's Chief Kook calling. But the name on the caller ID brought back to his mind a promise he'd made to a particular someone and Wooju panicked. In one swift movement, he rose to his feet, earning surprised looks from the mother-son pair.
How could he forget his plan with Choi Yoonji?
“What's wrong?” Inspector Song asked when Wooju froze for a second too long.
“I forgot,” Wooju said, eyes on the caller ID. His phone had stopped ringing but there's no doubt that Yoonji would be calling him again later. “I forgot I made a plan with my friend.” In an instant, Wooju bowed to the two of them, muttering an abundance of apologies all the while.
“It's okay, it's okay,” she said, standing up again to pack some of the food. “Here, just don't forget to take this with you. It's not good running around with empty stomach.”
“O-Oh, thank you, ma'am. Let me help.”
“Just eomeonim is fine.” Before long she proffered him the food, and watched with a fond smile as Wooju humbly accepted it. “Thank you for coming to visit Hayoung today. He might not seem like it, but he's happy whenever his colleagues come.” Gently, she patted her son on the shoulder.
Inspector Song, on the contrary, scratched the nape of his neck before saying, rather awkwardly, “Thank you for coming.”
“Have a safe ride!” she said, animated. “Come again if you have time, Wooju-ssi.
“Will do, ma'am— I mean, eomeonim. I hope your rehab's going well, Inspector. Goodbye!” And with that, Wooju gave them both another bow, said his thank you for the food and then made his way to the door, with the still warm lunchbox held tight in his hands. When he paused and gave the mother-son pair a final look and a broad smile, Inspector Song smiled back, genuine.