Chapter Text
Si-eun’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped out of the car. His phone was still buzzing in his hand, but the hospital parking lot felt strangely distant. It was only a few steps from the moment he had received the call to standing here now, unsure what to expect. He was supposed to be a good friend, supposed to feel happy, relieved, but there was only a gnawing ache where his heart should’ve been.
His mind kept circling back to one thought: What if it’s too late? What if he’s different?
The last time he saw Suho, the world had fallen apart. And now, here he was — supposedly awake. Supposedly ready to face the world after three years in a coma.
He didn’t know what to expect.
“Si-eun!”
His head snapped up, the voice cutting through his fog. Baku, Juntae, and Hyuntak were a few steps behind him, all wearing the same mixture of disbelief and excitement.
Si-eun barely noticed them, his gaze fixed ahead, his feet moving almost automatically toward the entrance. He was already feeling the cold, sterile air of the hospital wrap around him, but his mind was still back at the phone call. The voice on the other end had been calm, too calm, telling him Suho had woken up. A single line of hope he couldn’t afford to ignore.
He arrived at the garden outside the hospital wing, the same one Suho had always loved. It looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. And then, there he was.
Suho.
He was sitting in a wheelchair by the fence, facing the distant sky. His head was slightly tilted down, his hair a bit longer than usual but still unmistakable. A quiet, almost fragile figure. His eyes were closed, his hands resting in his lap, as if he were waiting for something — or someone.
Si-eun’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, everything else disappeared.
The world felt still.
Suho’s eyes opened, and their gazes met.
A rush of warmth hit Si-eun’s chest, overwhelming him in a way he hadn’t expected. His throat tightened, but he couldn’t stop the way his lips turned up slightly, like some unspoken weight had been lifted.
“Si-eun,” Suho’s voice broke through the moment, rough and hoarse, but still achingly familiar. He said his name like a prayer, as if he’d been waiting for it this whole time.
Si-eun’s heart seemed to skip. “Suho…” His voice was barely above a whisper, but he could feel the words pushing their way out.
The silence stretched for a few seconds, but then Suho gave him a soft, rare smile — the kind Si-eun hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. A smile that made his chest ache in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.
“How long has it been?” Suho’s voice was strained, and Si-eun realized how dry it was.
“Three years.”
There it was. The gap of time. The history. The distance.
Suho blinked slowly, and for a moment, Si-eun wondered if he even understood the full weight of those three years. How many things had changed? How much had they lost? How much had he lost?
But Suho didn’t seem to care about that. He looked up at Si-eun with quiet intensity, and for a moment, it was as if the years didn’t exist. It was just the two of them, standing there, locked in each other’s gaze.
Then, just like that, Suho’s hand reached out, weak but purposeful, gripping Si-eun’s wrist with a force that made his pulse spike.
“I’m… not letting you go again.”
It wasn’t an accusation, not a demand. It was a simple truth — one that pulled at something deep inside Si-eun, something he didn’t want to admit.
And maybe he didn’t have to.