Chapter Text
Suho coughed, hacking up his lungs. The incessant beeping from beside his bed had been ringing through his ears ever since he had gained a semblance of conciousness, which was not too recently, but recent enough for it to be driving him insane.
He blinked rapidly, irritation bubbling up inside. The irritation of being uncomfortable, restless, sore, and sick of that DAMN BEEPING.
His foggy vision cleared annoyingly slowly and he forced his heavy arms up to rub at his eyes. He heard a loud gasp and looked up to see the shocked and ecstatic face of a nurse.
She checked on him briefly and he tried to ask her what was happening.
His voice came out slurred, confusion present in the awkward noises spoiling from his mouth.
'What the fuck is happening?? Where am I? What's my name? Oh wait, I know that one. And who the hell is that lady?'
The nurse ran out and yelled for other doctors.
Suho sighed, sensing how annoying it was gonna be in the next few hours. He felt a strong urge to sink back into the deep exhaustion that felt like it was pulling him into the sheets below him, but it felt scarily similar to the exhaustion that overtook him as a foot crashed into his side again and again and again...
What had even happened after that?
Ok, no naps. He was gonna have to face this head on if it meant avoiding the terror that awaited him in his own head.
×××
Gotak fiddled with that arm of his chair as he awaited his physical therapist.
The shame that came with relearning how to walk and run and kick after having been a taekwondo athlete since he was 7 had long since been overtaken by the rage that was directed towards Baekjin and his pathetic minions.
His self-hate still lingered in the back of his head, whispering 'You were too weak' and 'all that work with nothing to show', but his more rational mind had pushed them to the side.
His main focus was on the deep pit of emptiness that had taken over when Baku's guilt had taken him away. Forever.
Gotak never smiled anymore, never laughed at the jokes the staff made like he had when he first got here.
2 months into his stay, Baku had walked in on his group therapy session. He had agreed to come along and watch, maybe help lift Gotak's mood, but had frozen in the middle of the doorway as guilt overtook him, as a feeling of dread swept through his whole being and he choked on the hospital air. He didn't even process the other people in the room. His Gogo couldn't walk. And it was his fault.
He ran and ran and then...
Two days later, Baku's dad called Gotak. His voice blank, empty. Not happy, not devastated, just...nothing. Gotak almost felt his already strong hatred for the man grow, but he couldn't focus on it in the face of the petrifying pain rushing through him, crushing his lungs and knocking him to the floor.
He would rather go through the night he got his dreams stolen away over and over forever than have to experience losing his best friend again.
Gotak lazily lifted his body, letting Mr. Jaemin support him.
He had regressed severely after that call, but had slowly grown back to his previous progress.
After that though...he was stuck. Stuck physically. Stuck on that night. Stuck on the expression Baku made when he saw him. Stuck on the fear and then the hope and then the fall when he received confirmation.
Since then, his anxiety had shot up and his depression reared its ugly head every which way. It had long been pushed into the background, just something he focused on when he was alone, but ever since he got injured and his dreams were smashed to bits, it had shown itself a bit, like a turtle bobbing its head above water, and then Baku passed and...
He was drowning in it.
Once his worst fears had been confirmed again and again, his anxiety, his paranoia, felt rational. Felt safer than the unknown. Safer than not fearing and falling anyways.
He had fallen into a pit filled to the brim with sorrow, with regret, with helplessness.
No matter what he did, no matter how many people he sucked up to, no matter how many times he shoved aside his own pain to scrub at Baku's grief, he had lost everything.
He did everything right, and still everything fell apart.
It made him realize that the world was unfair. Not in the way fathers describe. In the way neglected mothers do.
The suffocating feeling of never being seen as enough no matter what you do, and then when someone has the guts to respect you, to love you, both you and them get hurt. Your lives and autonomy ripped from your hands and your souls ripped right from your chest, like it was never yours in the first place, like you were stupid for even believing it was in the first place.
Gotak couldn't bring himself to worry about his future, couldn't bring himself to care whether he left this hospital or died the next day. Couldn't bring back his soulmate or the dreams they shared, the future they always invisioned as intertwined with the other's.
Gotak sighed, pushing away his thoughts.
His mom would scold him if he didn't walk around the room at least twice. Her broken voice just stabbed at the remains of his broken heart even more, so might as well get it over with.
×××
"Well...you look different."
Suho tried to clear the tension in the room unsuccessfully. After a long 6 months of refreshing his vocal cords, recovering memories, and long visits with physical and speech therapists, he was finally allowed guests.
Sieun stared at him with watery eyes and then glanced down at their joined hands.
"So...you don't love me anymore."
Suho sighed, guilt pressing down on his shoulders as tears silently spilled down Sieun's scrunched-up face.
"It's not...I don't know why. I just woke up and...I don't know. I expected to feel that spark, the pull that led me to you so many times before, but...it's not there anymore."
Suho whispered the last part, his voice weak and his eyes burning into his blankets.
His hand was clenched with the discomfort of inside-his-head feelings being forced out.
He had never had to discuss his personal thoughts, scrape up the depths of his soul and offer them out like this. And it was hard. But it was better than playing along and lying to himself and Sieun. He knew that.
He really wished he still felt the same way. Not only to comfort Sieun, but because it was just a nice feeling to experience. And Sieun was a good person to fall for.
But then it was just gone.
He passed out. He woke up. The only real difference between then and now was his feelings toward the sad-eyed boy still clinging to his hand.
He didn't know if it was because of the coma or if his feelings really were impermanent and bound to dissipate eventually. And that irked him.
Not only would Sieun never understand Suho's feelings, but he couldn't even understand them himself.
"...I'm sorry-"
"Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything."
"..."
Suho glanced up, brain racing to find something he could say to comfort Sieun, but Sieun waved him off.
Tears bunching up but not falling anymore, Sieun grumbled out a wobbly "I'm glad you're ok," and stumbled out of the room.