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The late morning sun shining through the window and onto In's closed eyes didn't wake him. Neither did the soft sound of traffic on the street outside, or someone calling out to a neighbor on their way out. His last session had run late the night before, not to mention he'd gone to the hospital to have a quick dinner with Thap on his break during the overnight shift. On top of which, he'd never been a morning person to begin with. It would take a lot more than common stimuli to knock him from slumber.
"You're all trying to kill me!"
Dao let out a whimper, then looked up from her bleeding chest to the man holding the knife.
"Dao!" In shouted, shooting up in bed.
Panting, In threw his gaze around, as if he would see Dao or the attacker in the bedroom with him, would see blood or hear Dao's pained gasp as the blade went in. Of course he was alone. The bedroom was silent, the décor chosen specifically to promote calm and comfort, the light of day making the whole space feel open and welcoming. This was where In and Thap curled up to sleep together on nights when neither of them was working, where Thap often teased In awake because he wanted to share breakfast even as In insisted on five more minutes. In's nightmare had no place there.
Except it wasn't a nightmare.
In slapped his hand down on the bedside table and just missed his phone, instead sending it clattering to the floor. With a curse, In slid to the floor on his knees, half dragging the sheets with him as he scrambled for the phone. His fingers shook and it took three tries to unlock the device—which only made the shaking worse.
Time. There was no time.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he had Dao's contact up and the phone ringing. Her winking face smiled up at him from the phone screen as it rang, rang, rang, rang—
And went to voicemail. Cursing, In dialed Thap's number instead. Again, the phone rang, and rang, and rang, and—
Voicemail.
"Goddamn hospital workers," In cursed, even as he shoved himself to his feet.
It wasn't enough that his husband was the director of the department who often stuck around to help out with dire cases. His best friend had used her degree to get a job working for the hospital social media public relations department. And they were both sticklers for following the rules and not answering their phones in front of other workers or patients, so he couldn't contact either of them and time was running out.
With barely enough time taken to finger comb his hair and throw on actual clothes, In was out the front door and into a taxi, desperately throwing out the address and a plea to go, "As fast as you can, please."
Though he tried calling Thap and Dao again in the taxi, the calls still rang out. It took all of In's willpower not to text or call anyone about the issue on the way to the hospital. Sure, it meant someone else would know, but if he fainted before he could get the full message out, or if he wasn't clear enough, or if he contacted the wrong person for the job, then Dao would be dead and In would be unconscious for far too long to be of any help.
Every inch of him tingled with barely contained energy, his leg bouncing impatiently and his fingers spinning his phone constantly, like that might make someone call him back.
Finally—Finally, the taxi pulled up outside the hospital. In paid as fast as he could, then threw himself out of the car. When he careened through the double doors, a small crowd was already watching as a middle-aged man with unkempt hair and bloodshot eyes raged at the reception staff.
"You can't stop me from seeing a doctor!" he shouted. "Something is wrong with me and I need help, and you! I'm dying and you blood suckers aren't helping me! You're in it together, too! You want me to die. That's what this is! You made me sick, and now you'll let me die, and then you'll sell me for parts!"
People were muttering about 'where is security?' and 'Someone called already' but were just standing around, letting the man keep berating the receptionists.
And there was Dao, joining the crowd with one of her coworkers, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. Not concern that there was a screaming man who might be dangerous, but concern for his wellbeing. Because that was the kind of person Dao was. And that was why she stepped forward from the group, just out of arm's reach of the angry man.
"Uncle, can I—"
As the man whipped around, turning from the reception desk and pulling a knife from his pocket, In shoved his way through the watching people. He collided bodily with Dao, shoving her to the side, just as the man yelled, "You're all trying to kill me!" and lashed out.
Instead of a knife, it felt like the man punched In in the stomach.
Then his body kept moving, following Dao's sideways to the floor. Dao shouted when they hit the ground, In half-crushing her.
"Hey—In?" she gasped.
In didn't look at her. His entire focus was on the man now standing above them. The man who held his wrist like it hurt and glared at In like it was his fault. In made sure to keep his body between Dao and the man, in case the guy had another weapon.
Two security guards grabbed the man simultaneously by both arms. He started cursing and thrashing, trying to get free. Someone screamed, then another, then Dao. That last one finally pulled In's attention from the attacker to his friend.
"Dao?" he asked. Was she okay?
But Dao's eyes were down, staring in horror at In's torso. Brows furrowing in confusion, In also looked down.
"Oh."
That was a knife. That was a knife, sticking out of In's body, blood pouring pretty freely around the blade. Was it supposed to bleed that much?
"In!" Dao shouted, putting her hands on either side of the wound and pressing. He jerked at the pain, but couldn't find it in himself to make her stop. "We need a doctor!"
"I need a doctor!" the attacker countered angrily. But In's world was narrowing to Dao's face, to her hands around the blade, to a growing warmth all through his body.
"Dao," In said, and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
…
…
Being the Director of a hospital was a lot of paperwork, a lot of phone calls, and a lot of check-ins with people from all departments. Thap had to check that things were being done to the level of quality expected from such a well-respected hospital, that patients were being treated well, that regulations were being followed, that any issues were resolved efficiently and with care. He worked with various research doctors, as well. But Thap liked his job. He wasn't face to face with patients nearly as often as he was in Critical Care, but he got to ensure the hospital as a whole ran smoothly and that people got the help they needed.
Thap had just finished sending an email when the door to his office burst open without so much as a cursory knock and Pokpong half-slid, half-tripped inside, the look on his face wild.
Adrenaline had already begun pumping through his system when Thap asked, "Pong? What's wrong?"
"N'In!" Pong gasped, putting a hand to his chest like it would help him catch his breath. The adrenaline spiked. "There was a man in the lobby, with a knife."
And In had been stabbed. Pokpong didn't need to finish the story for Thap to know. Thap barely locked his computer before he was up and rushing out of his office, Pokpong at his side, leading the way toward Critical Care while he explained what he knew of the situation.
A man came in asking to speak with a doctor, said he felt like he was covered in ants. When the receptionists asked him to wait in the waiting room for his turn, he grew verbally abusive. It drew a small crowd. The man pulled a knife on a member of the hospital staff. And then In got between the man and his intended victim, taking the hit instead. Hospital security arrived shortly after to detain the man.
Of course In would do that. Thap's reckless, wonderful husband would never sit back if he knew someone was going to be hurt.
But wait. In wasn't meant to be at the hospital. He was supposed to be having a late morning lie in, then working at home on his latest column job. They hadn't even planned to have lunch together. So if In had shown up at the hospital suddenly, that meant he'd had a vision of the danger before it happened. And if In had a vision at home, then that meant he knew someone who was meant to get hurt instead. And the angry man had been nowhere near Thap's office—
"Pokpong," Thap said, stopping suddenly. Pong jerked to a halt beside him, looking wrong-footed. Thap grabbed Pong by the shoulders. "Where's my sister? Is Dao okay?"
Pokpong's tense shoulders drooped, his face losing much of its tension. In fact, he looked relieved that Thap had asked. "She's not hurt. She's waiting outside surgery."
Thap didn't know what he was feeling. His head and his chest were spinning with relief and terror and anger and gratitude all at once. Dao was okay. In usually foresaw death, so Dao could have died from that attack, but In had saved her. In had a wound that might have killed his sister, which meant there was a good chance it would kill In instead. Some fucking asshole had tried to kill his sister and had hurt his husband, and Thap hoped the police put him away for a long time.
…
…
They did, indeed, find Dao outside the surgery wing. Her makeup was smudged and her hands still held In's blood. Thap swallowed thickly and took a detour to grab antibacterial wipes, then approached his sister. He knelt in front of her and gently took her hand, concentrating on cleaning the blood from her skin and resolutely not thinking about whose blood it was.
"P'Thap," Dao managed, her voice wrecked. "In—In is—"
In was in critical care. No one had told Thap how much blood In lost or how bad the wound was, if any organs had been damaged, or even what part of him had been stabbed. He couldn't fathom a guess as to what state In was in, except that Pong would've told him if there was no hope.
"He got hurt saving me," Dao managed. "I'm so sorry, Phi."
Thap inhaled deeply, held it for three seconds, then let it out slowly. Only then did he lift his eyes from his sister's hands to her tear-stained face. "I'm glad you're okay," he said.
Her whole face screwed up and tears poured down her face, further mussing her already ruined makeup. Dao pulled her hands from Thap's lax grip and instead threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. Without hesitation, he hugged her back.
Behind the closed doors of the surgery wing, doctors and nurses were doing everything they could to save In's life. To fix the damage caused by a knife that should never have come into a hospital in the first place. To make sure that Thap could still wake up in the morning to see In's dozing face; could still stand in the kitchen and make a meal with In at his side, sassing him for the way he cut the carrots or insisting seaweed was a vegetable just to get a rise out of Thap; could still kiss him goodbye on the forehead or hello on the mouth or on the back of his neck when In was on the phone.
Dao was alive in his arms and Thap forced himself to think of that instead. His sister was okay, if emotionally wounded. She wasn't physically hurt because In had protected her. Because the police had arrived and taken the man away. She was warm and breathing in his arms, and Thap was infinitely grateful.
He couldn't think of what was happening behind the doors. If he did, he'd break down, and Dao needed him to be—well, not 'okay,' but not weeping either. She needed to see him calm to believe that her best friend would be alright. Thap would believe enough for the both of them.
…
…
Thap was crying.
He sat at a bedside, holding the hand of someone he loved, and he wept. In honestly couldn't tell if the image was a vision or a dream, but it was vibrant in his mind as awareness crept back to him.
Next came the sound of beeping. Rhythmic, consistent. A heart monitor. Then came the smell. Something like cleaning supplies. Antiseptic. A hospital. In visited Thap often enough to know. He was in a hospital room.
His body felt heavy, especially his right hand. Like when he'd been prescribed sleeping meds after his parents died. Thoughts came slowly—the memory of his vision, of pushing Dao out of the way, of the knife in his torso, of puking on the tile floor. If he was in a hospital room, then he was probably going to be okay, he thought.
Dao. What about Dao? Had the man attacked again after In passed out? The heart monitor sped up, and In opened his eyes to look around, to see if Dao was with him.
She wasn't.
The head of hair laying on the edge of the bed was not long and brown, but short and black. The face, with shut eyes and a mouth tense even in sleep, was not soft and rounded but angular and mature. No, Dao wasn't sleeping at his bedside, holding his hand, the edges of her eyelids red and puffy. It was the hospital director. His husband.
"P'Thap," In called, his voice coming out weak. He cleared his throat and, while giving Thap's hand a light squeeze, repeated, "P'Thap."
Thap came too abruptly. His eyes shot open and he sat up, his gaze immediately landing on the machine to the side of the bed, monitoring In's vitals, clearly looking for something going wrong. It made In huff a laugh, which caused a dull pain in his side and also brought Thap's gaze down to his face.
"In."
His free hand joined the other in holding In's right hand, and then he brought In's hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it. He didn't say anything at first, but relief was clear as day in his eyes and the curve of his mouth.
"Is Dao okay?" In asked, feeling like his head was stuck in molasses. Everything came out slower than usual—his words, his thoughts, his movements.
Nodding, Thap held In's hand to his cheek. "She's okay, thanks to you."
In hummed and smiled. "That's good."
For a moment, Thap also nodded and smiled. Then he frowned, a muscle in his jaw clenching, his brows furrowing. "Don't do that to me again."
In also frowned. "Neither of you answered your phone," he complained quietly. "I had to do something."
Thap gave a single shake of his head. "If this ever happens again, call the hospital, or Pokpong, or Ton."
"But if I told someone, and they didn't understand…I'd only get one shot," In argued.
"You don't need to tell them what's wrong, just to get me." Thap said. Then he shook his head again. "That still might make you dizzy. Maybe we should come up with a signal. Like, if you call three times in a row, it's a dire emergency."
It looked like he was thinking hard about whether that would work or if they needed another option. And maybe it was the meds they had him on, but that made In's lips pull up in a smile. When Thap noticed, he lifted an eyebrow.
"Oh? I'm glad you can smile. I didn't know if I was going to become a widower for a while there," he said.
That cut off In's amusement and he frowned. "Was it bad?" he asked.
He remembered seeing the knife still sticking out of him and thinking it was bleeding too much. Had it punctured something important? Had he almost died?
With a sigh, Thap deflated in his seat, slouching against the side of the bed in a way he normally didn't allow himself to at work. Still, he held In's hand firmly but tenderly in his own and kept his eyes on In's face. "Luckily, perhaps because you were moving when you were struck, the knife missed severely damaging any of your internal organs. It caused a major bleed, though, which was the main concern."
He pressed his lips together, his eyes going tight at the edges, and In knew he was running through every detail the doctors had told him, every minor piece of damage to In's body, every possible outcome of those injuries. In shifted their joined hands a bit, pulling Thap out of his head.
"I'll be fine, Phi," he said, doing his best to sound confident when he had half a mind to go back to sleep.
Now Thap stood from his seat so he could stare down at In from above. In another circumstance, Thap's firm expression might be sexy, but not then. Now that expression was tinted with red eyes. Now, In was in no position to start anything.
After a moment of silence and stillness, Thap said, "You'd better be."
Then he leaned down to press a kiss to In's forehead, to his cheek, to his nose. If he weren't in recovery from a stabbing and high on pain killers, In would protest and then pull Thap in for more. As it was, the soft touches of Thap's lips merely made In sigh in contentment
When Thap pulled back again, it was just far enough so that they could look at each other without crossing their eyes. He held In's face gently in his hands, his thumbs running over In's cheeks, his eyes locked on In's. "You once told me that you never wanted to love someone and lose them again, not after your parents," he said, and In swallowed thickly.
It had been years, but he still wished his parents were there with him, to help him with his gift, to see the amazing man he'd ended up with.
"The same goes for me," Thap said with a frown. "I love that you help people, that you would do anything for those you love. Thank you for saving my sister. But I also don't want to lose you, In."
It was said like a scolding, but In could feel the sincerity, the genuine love behind the words. They'd been married for years now, and In knew his husband inside and out. He was glad that Thap wouldn't make him apologize for saving Dao, that he understood where In was coming from. But he also felt bad for making Thap worry. It honestly had not occurred to him that he might get hurt saving Dao. In wasn't sure what he had expected, just that he had to get her out of the way.
"Ah, ah, ah. Fine," In agreed, trying to make his voice nonchalant, to lighten the mood. "I'll send Ton in next time." That was better than calling the cops, and In waited until Thap started to relax his shoulders before adding, "Then you can deal with Pokpong after his boyfriend gets hurt."
A surprised laugh escaped Thap, and then they were both smiling. Ton had never been majorly injured on the job in the time In had known him. A sprained wrist or a few cuts were all that In had seen for himself. So imagining him hurt was difficult, but imagining Pokpong's nagging and mother-hening over any injury was easy.
Thap returned to holding In's hand instead of his face but kept up the soothing caresses of his thumbs.
They hadn't talked about how long In would have to stay in the hospital, or how much recovery the wound would need, but In knew Thap would be there every step of the way. He would go to any therapy sessions, to any doctor's appointments, would help In at home in every way he could. Even without foresight, In knew they would playfully argue about how protective Thap was, that he would protest Thap driving him everywhere while quietly loving it, that Thap would take time off work so he could be there as long as In needed.
"I love you, P'Thap."
Thap's red-rimmed eyes went molten with fondness. He reached out to cup In's cheek again. "I love you, N'In," he responded, before leaning in to give In a soft but deep kiss. The kiss of someone who had thought, even for a moment, that he wouldn't get the chance again. The rest of the world faded away in the face of that kiss.
"In! You're awake!"
And then came crashing back at Dao's yell. The men pulled apart just before Dao reached the side of the bed opposite Thap. She playfully shoved her brother's shoulder.
"Don't kiss him right now! He's in a hospital bed and you'll re-open his wounds," she scolded. Even as Thap spluttered indignantly, Dao turned her attention to In. "In, are you alright? Do you need anything?"
Smiling kindly at her, In said, "I'm alright. I'm glad you're okay, too, Dao."
Like her brother, Dao's eyes were also red-rimmed. Also like her brother, she frowned at him. "I know why you did it, but In," she scolded, gripping the railing of the bed, "do you know how awful it would've been if you died? Saving my life?"
For as many times as In had scolded Thap for the same thing, in the moment, he hadn't even considered his own safety. It didn't take much to imagine their situations reversed—Dao dead saving In's life. It would be awful, living with the guilt, seeing Thap every day and knowing that he'd had a hand in his sister's death, not being able to call her or get food with her or work with her ever again.
"I'm sorry, Dao," In apologized, his own voice getting a bit choked up. "I never meant to put you through that."
For a moment, In thought Dao would start to cry. Instead, she inhaled sharply through her nose, held it for several seconds, and then smiled warmly at him.
"I know," she said. Then she pointed at him like a disappointed parent. "Just don't do it again."
In laughed and suddenly felt the need for sleep wash over him, the world spinning like when he stayed up way too late. He took a breath. "I think I could use another nap."
She nodded in agreement and reached out to lightly squeeze his shoulder. Then, as if to remind him that she was still his manager part-time, she said, "You rest all you want. I'll postpone your sessions until you feel better. And P'Thap and I will be right here if you need anything."
Thap placed his hand on In's other shoulder. "Mm. We will."
Oh, but In was about to be coddled relentlessly by these siblings. There would be no escaping it at home or at work. He closed his eyes and smiled, endlessly grateful to have them.
…
…
fin