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Sleep was not so easy to come ever since Baekjeong had infected their lives. First they had to flee their home—their safe haven that they'd built with the money Mr. choi had left them—then Taeyong's house was compromised and they had to leave there too for the Hotel. Now, it seemed like he and Woojin were living at the hospital. Any sleep Gunwoo got at the hospital left him more tired and groggy, so he wasn't surprised when he woke up in the middle of the night from what felt barely more than a restless nap.
Gunwoo couldn't even roll over, his shoulder was still too sore to sleep on his side. everything was too sore, really, most of all his heart. Instinctively, he rolled his head to the side, checking to make sure Woojin was still there, in the adjacent bed. Sure enough, there he was, in the shape of a giant lump under the thick blanket.
His heart warmed at the sight of his best friend, suddenly wishing they were sharing a bed so Gunwoo could reach out and touch him. Feel the warmth of his skin and watch the rise and fall of his chest. The look on Woojin's face when he walked into his room earlier, bloodied and defeated, sobbing into Gunwoo's chest, will forever haunt him. It took way too long to convince him to let the doctors check him out. Gunwoo was afraid he was going to pass out from all the crying, but Woojin finally calmed down enough to get checked out after Gunwoo begged him to, his silent tears never ceasing.
There was a noise, low and muffled. Gunwoo would've missed it if he wasn't so focused on Woojin a few feet away. Another sound, a hushed sniffle, reached Gunwoo's ears and that was when he notices the subtle shaking of Woojin's frame across him.
Silently, Gunwoo pushed the comforter off and slid down the bed, his socked feet barely making any noise as he padded over to Woojin's bed. He slid under the covers behind Woojin, not leaving much space between them as he reached for the older's trembling shoulder.
"Hyung," he called, barely louder than a whisper.
There was no reply, only a slight flinch before Woojin curled further in on himself.
Gunwoo sighed, his heart bleeding. "Talk to me, hyung."
"How–" Woojin sniffled, his voice muffled into his palms. "How can you stand to be near me?"
Gunwoo bit his lip, fighting the unshed tears stinging his eyes. "Hyung…"
"I don't deserve to live," he cried, not trying to keep quiet anymore. "It should've been me–"
"Stop!" Gunwoo said, loud enough to startle the older and reached for Woojin's shoulder again. "Look at me."
Woojin shook his head, trying to pull his shoulders in, fighting being rolled over. "I can't… I can't"
"Woojin-ah! Look at me!" Gunwoo called out, begging. "It's just me, please…"
That must finally get through to him as he finally rolled over, facing Gunwoo. The bandage on Woojin's cheek was completely soaked with tears, his red swollen eyes refusing to meet Gunwoo's.
"Hyung, look at me," Gunwoo cupped his palm against Woojin's damp cheek, urging him to look up.
Even the darkness in the room couldn't hide the guilt and sadness brimming Woojin's eyes as he finally looked. He seemed as if he was being crushed by a two ton slab of concrete, like the act of looking Gunwoo in the eyes was tearing him apart. He hadn't looked like that since Mr. Choi's death.
Gunwoo wiped the fresh tear that slid down Woojin's cheek with his thumb and took a deep breath before asking. "Do you know why mom did it? Why she went with Inbeom?"
Woojin squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.
"Two reasons. One, because she loves you like her own and couldn't watch you get hurt. And two," Gunwoo paused, swallowing around the lump in his throat that was choking him up. "Because she knows… She knows what you mean to me, hyung."
Woojin's eyes snap open, wide and round, looking up at Gunwoo with a hundred questions.
"She knows that if something happened to you… I couldn't take it."
"Gunwoo-yah…" he rasped, voice rough after hours of incessant crying.
"If you'd died, I would go completely off the rails. I would kill them all and burn the whole world down because I can't do this without you." Gunwoo didn't 't mince his word. He didn't want to leave any room for Woojin to misunderstand just how much he means to him. "You're my whole world."
Fresh tears began streaming down Woojin's face as he curled into Gunwoo's chest. Wrapping his arms around him, Gunwoo pulled him in closer, content in the way Woojin fit against him so perfectly.
"I love you, hyung," He whispered into Woojin's hair. "I love you so much it scares me sometimes."
The confession only made Woojin sob harder, clinging tightly onto Gunwoo's flimsy hospital gown.
"That night, at the factory, was when I realized I would kill for you," he admitted despite the shame that filled his whole body at the memory. "While I was beating that last guy, all I could see through the rage was you, lying bloodied and lifeless on the ground. If you hadn't called for me…"
Slowly, Woojin pulled back, enough to look Gunwoo in the eyes and see the disarming honesty in his eyes. "Gunwoo… I can't… I don't deserve–"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, hyung. Not when we both know you were ready to die for my mom and I if it came down to it. And you don't get to decide who does or doesn't deserve my love, because it's mine to give." That left Woojin no room to argue, his large eyes remaining locked with Gunwoo. "As for my mom, she's going to be fine because Baekjeong knows if he hurts her he'll lose his leverage over us. And we're going to save her; you and I. Together."
Only then did Woojin take a breath, like the weight on his chest was lifted, at least partially. He was finally starting to believe Gunwoo.
"So I need you to pull yourself together, okay hyung?" Gunwoo said, looking deep into his best friend's tired eyes. "I can't do this on my own. I need you by my side."
"Always!" Woojin nodded frantically, blinking away his tears. "I'll… always be by your side."
Gunwoo's eyes softened, his heart melting in his chest. "I know, hyung."
"Gunwoo-yah, I…"
"I know, hyung," Gunwoo said softly, running his fingers through Woojin's silky hair. "I know."
"But you need to hear it," Woojin insisted, fingers tightening around Gunwoo's gown. "You're my whole world too."
A tear slid down the corner of Gunwoo's eye unexpectedly. It wasn't like he thought his feelings were unreciprocated, but hearing them still felt like a soothing balm on his frayed nerves.
"Before meeting you and going against Kim Miyeongil together, I used to think that boxing was my whole world. I didn't know who I would be if I weren't a boxer. And then I met you with that heart of pure gold and iron fists and I was never the same."
Gunwoo couldn't help the trembling of his lips. "Hyung…"
"After I met you, I learned what it's like to be a partner. I learned what it's like to have someone who's got your back even when the whole world is against you. I learned what it's like to be a part of a family, to be a son someone was proud of. Before you and eomma, I never had that," Woojin said through tears that wouldn't stop. "So you see, I can't let that be taken away. I can't lose eomma, or you."
"You won't," Gunwoo's reply was instant. "What's our rule?"
Woojin swallowed. "Once a family. Always a family."
"And?"
"We protect our family 'till the end with our lives," Woojin finished.
Gunwoo grabbed the back of Woojin's neck. "That's right."
"Okay," Woojin sighed. "Okay."
They were both quiet for a few moments, only the sound of their breathings filling the silence in the room until Gunwoo spoke. "We should get some sleep."
Woojin hummed, his eyes had already fallen shut, his skin warm against Gunwoo's palm.
Another few moments passed in silence before Woojin spoke. "Aren't you going back to your bed?"
"Do you want me to go?"
"No,"
"Then I'm not."
"Okay."
Something must've settled in Woojin as his body began melting heavier into the mattress and against Gunwoo's chest. Neither of them cared about how small the hospital bed was for two grown athletes, or how injured they both were. All they wanted—all they needed was to be near each other. Close enough to share body heat. Close enough to sync their heartbeats. Close enough to pretend they're matching pieces of a puzzle.