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The wheels rattle along the cracked driveway towards the front door, and Gally winces each time the chair jolts on the uneven stone slates. Minho doesn’t complain. He doesn’t even make a single sound.
Pulling his keys from his pocket, Gally stops the wheelchair in front of the door and steps aside to unlock it. Yet, with one glance at the bright blue entryway that him and Minho decorated by hand themselves when they renovated this place, Gally has already calculated that the chair will not fit through. "Uh, okay." He breathes, scratching his head.
With the keys still in the door, keychains collected from their travels over the years dangling, Gally turns to look down at Minho. It doesn’t seem like Minho has moved a muscle since they left the hospital. His eyes stare lifelessly ahead, hands folded in his lap.. legs strapped neatly to the wheelchair’s footplates.
"Looks like I’ll be carrying you in, love." Gally murmurs, crouching down and undoing the velcro straps around Minho’s legs. Minho fails to react, the biggest sign of life he gives being the way his pupils flick to Gally, watching him. Once Gally has freed Minho from the chair’s hold, he slips one arm beneath the underside of Minho’s knees, and the other against Minho’s back.
Last time he carried Minho like this, he was throwing him into a pool down in Italy last summer. Today, he’s not being playful, and the fond memory stings a little. Minho grunts, finally moving. He wraps his arms around Gally’s neck, possibly getting flashbacks of being dropped straight into cold water.
Gally isn’t going to let go of him this time, though, and they both know it.
Ducking his head as he walks inside — a habit Gally has grown into since he hit six-foot of height — Gally looks around for a moment at the open living room-kitchen space in their bungalow, and then he marches toward the larger of their sofas. Lowering Minho down carefully, he makes sure Minho is comfortably sat up against the cushions.
Minho only blinks when Gally kisses his head. "Now lemme try.." Gally looks back at the open door, eyes narrowing on the chair, "…figuring out how this folds."
Despite being a professional builder, deputy head of the company he’s employed by, it takes Gally a good ten minutes to work the chair into a more compact frame. It isn’t light either, and he hauls it through the door with one hand — the other gripping Minho’s bag which was hanging on its back.
Propping the chair against the hallway wall, he dumps Minho’s rucksack beside it, telling himself he’ll deal with them later. After retrieving the keys from the keyhole, he tosses them onto a cabinet at the side and walks himself back over to Minho.
"How are you feeling?" He asks, sinking down beside Minho, already sliding an arm around him. Minho hasn’t said a word in twenty hours, Gally’s unsure why he stupidly assumed his partner would start up again now. Maybe it’s the unnatural quiet, their house always being full of noise suddenly so silent through and through.
Rubbing his hand up and down Minho’s arm, Gally sighs and pulls Minho closer, laying Minho’s head against his chest. The television takes a while to switch on after Gally fumbles with the remote, giving him enough time to nuzzle his face into Minho’s hair and kiss his crown a couple more times.
Usually, Minho would be either smiling, or batting him away, but this week has been anything but usual, so Gally isn’t completely disheartened by Minho’s lack of reaction. Then again, he isn’t thrilled too.
The first channel to appear is the news, which Gally skips past immediately on instinct. He settles for what Minho calls ‘Trash TV,’ some junk show that’s probably another variation of East Enders. "Are you hungry? I can cook. We have lasagna in the fridge, I think."
Gally pauses. He waits for Minho to respond, then closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. The silence hurts. Not because he’s scared of this quiet, but because he’s never had to deal with it when Minho’s around him. This time, however, he receives an answer. A mumbled answer, "What about a takeaway?"
"What kind?" Gally gives Minho a squeeze, relief washing over him as he lays his head against the back of the sofa, anxiety creeping away for now.
"The Chinese from down the road."
Reaching for his pocket, Gally pulls his phone out, "Yeah?" and he starts typing in the restaurant’s name into the search bar. "What do you want?" Gally scrolls down the menu slowly, then lowers his phone in front of Minho’s face for him to read.
Minho points. Gally pays.
The doorbell goes fifteen minutes later, at which point Minho is almost asleep, head in Gally’s lap. Gally lifts Minho’s torso and slips away to the door, grabbing the paper bags left on the step. "Food’s here, Min." He calls back, hurrying the warm bundles over to the living room table.
Gally sees how Minho goes to swing his legs to sit up before remembering that he has no feeling there, and diverts his eyes as Minho uses his arms instead to manoeuvre himself into an upright position.
Everything they ordered is steaming hot, and Gally snatches some plates from the kitchen, "Ah, the sweet and sour noodles smell good."
"Uh-huh." Minho’s agrees, leaning forwards and scooping some onto his plate.
They are around halfway through everything when Minho stops, gently placing his plate down and leaning back. Gally swallows down what’s in his mouth and clears his throat, "Full already?"
"Mhm."
A small frown passes Gally’s face, "Are you sure? There’s plenty left."
Minho just shrugs, "Probably ordered too much." and stares at the television.
Gally boxes away the leftovers once his hunger feels satisfied and he glances to the clock on the kitchen wall. It isn’t late, just early evening, but they’ve had a busy week and Minho looks wrecked. "Wanna head to bed?" He leans against Minho, having missed being by his side this week, "You can shower first if you want, I know the hospital didn’t have the warmest water."
And then, Minho gives him this look. One that reads, "Don’t make me say it."
It’s a gut punch that Gally chokes down, eyes glancing to Minho’s still legs, "How about a.. a bath."
"I can't. Stitches, remember?." Minho looks down at his feet, eye bags heavy.
"Then.. I'll give you a quick rinse." Leaving the tele on in the background, Gally stretches tiredly, then scoops Minho back into his arms. Being a builder has its perks, one being enough strength to carry a fully grown person around like it’s nothing.
His mind rushes ahead, decoding how to get Minho dry and changed without him standing. He sits Minho on the bed to undress himself, and ends up dragging in a footstool from the living room and placing it between the bath and the sink.
When he returns to Minho, he notices that his partner’s eyes are red. Minho’s shirt has been folded on the bed beside him, and his belt is off, but the furthest he got with his jeans was unzipping them. "I’m too tired for this." Minho grumbles, wiping a hand over his face. Gally nods, and removes them for him, boxers following.
Both of them feel sick when they see the stitches crawling down Minho’s legs, that’s for sure. "He’s lucky we didn’t have to amputate." Was a phrase Gally heard far too often in that white, sterile room, but lucky is a.. choice word for it.
"This is gonna sting." Minho spits, glaring at the damage. Gally doesn’t know what to say to that. Carefully, he lift's Minho's exposed body, trying his hardest to be gentle with his legs.
"Watch the side." He warns as he lowers Minho into the bathtub, and Minho sticks his arms out to hold the edges as he touches down onto the cold bottom of the tub. "Right, lemme just run the water for a moment." Reaching over, Gally pulls the shower head from its stand on the wall and holds it low, turning it on and adjusting the temperature.
The water sprays against his hand, ice cold, but it gradually warms. Completely avoiding Minho's legs, Gally moves the shower head and holds it over Minho's hair, letting the water cascade down onto his husband as it gets hotter still.
Hands tender, Gally tips Minho's head back and combs his hand through Minho's dark hair, massaging his scalp. He grabs shampoo from the side and asks Minho to hold a palm out, where he pours a dollop of the liquid. Minho rubs the cleanser into his hair, foaming it up, and closes his eyes as Gally washes it out.
Body wash is next, and Gally selects the fancy stuff Jorge gifted Minho for Christmas. It smells of vanilla and honey all at once, and he rubs it over Minho's tanned shoulders and the back of his neck, tracing the muscle there with his fingertips.
Allowing Minho to rub in the wash around his torso, Gally then soaks the foam away with water. From the side, he picks up a dark red bottle and squints at the writing, "More hair stuff?"
"Conditioner, you oaf." Minho sighs, as if Gally has suddenly let him down on something beyond critical, "I've married a fool."
"Shut up. It's not my fault I've got no hair up there to deep-clean." Gally scoffs, gesturing at his buzzcut. Minho smirks, the first genuine smile on his face Gally has seen so far, and he waits for Gally to pass him the bottle, which Gally does after a moment.
"You get a small amount, " Minho says quietly, squeezing some of the… whatever it is onto his fingers, "and apply it to the ends of your hair. Never the scalp."
"Why not?" Gally crouches to relieve his legs for a minute, getting eye to eye with Minho as he lets the water run down Minho's hip bone from the shower head.
Minho grimaces at Gally like he has said something disgusting which is making him question their relationship, "Your hair gets greasy if you do."
"Oh." Gally feigns understanding, and watches Minho comb his fingers through his hair, soggy fringe falling down over his eyes. "Do you want me to book you a haircut?" He tilts his head to the side, squinting to try and spy Minho's eyes through the wall of black.
Signalling for the water, Minho grabs at Gally's wrist, so Gally lifts his arm and helps Minho rinse his hair. "I literally just got it cut, no?"
"If just is June, then yeah."
Aware that Autumn is upon them, Minho raises his eyebrows — eyes closed to avoid any product stinging them, "Time has flown this year." Satisfied with his cleanliness, Minho leans over to turn the shower off, and Gally hooks the head back up.
Snatching up the fluffiest towel they own, Gally uses it to ruffle Minho's hair, then to swaddle and lift him, sitting him on the stool he brought in so he can locate Minho's pyjamas.
Rain begins to patter against the windows as they change Minho, and the sound is quite soothing. "Gally?" Minho frowns when Gally lays him on the bed but doesn't flop onto him, instead standing back up and pacing away, "Gal? What are you doing?"
"Was gonna do some sizing with the chair, see how I can help you out."
"..Can that wait?"
Lips curving downward, Gally gets closer again, sitting on the edge of the bed by Minho's feet, "What's up?"
Using his elbows, Minho props himself up so he can see Gally better, "We haven't seen each other for a week."
"Well actually, you haven't seen me, but I've seen you. You looked like an ancient mummy in the bed at first."
"Tch, thanks."
"I was being so annoying the doctors sent me home, y'know." Gally sighs, tapping his fingers against his knees, "I was worrying and hovering non-stop, they couldn't get a thing done."
"Why am I not surprised?" Minho stares at him head on, dark eyes full of warmth. They study each other as Minho's watch continues to tick, time passing by to their dismay.
"..Okay," Gally breathes, "I'll stay." Crawling over and crushing Minho's head in his arms affectionately, he kisses Minho's lips when Minho looks up at him.
They settle down just like that, although Gally does ease his grip on Minho, not wanting to strangle the guy on their first night reunited after such a rough incident.
However, an hour passes, and Gally's mind refuses to rest. He concentrates, waiting for Minho to twitch in his sleep, or to kick Gally roughly out of reflex — yes, Gally has gained bruises from this — but Minho never does. Of course, Gally swears inside his head, Minho cannot any longer.
Prying himself away from Minho, Gally sits up, rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath. To keep his thoughts contained, he sets out to do the task Minho stopped him from beginning earlier. Humming to himself quietly, he creeps off of the bed and stands right before the en-suite door, measuring it with his eyes.
He thinks the wheelchair will likely fit through the frame, and on that thought, he decides to go and unfold it in their bedroom so if Minho needs something tonight, he’ll be able to move around.
The chair is right where he left it, already collecting dust in their hall. Gally lugs it through the bungalow, thanking the heavens that there are no stairs in this house, and he restarts the puzzle of how the chair folds.
Once it’s sat at Minho’s bedside, Gally stares at it long and hard.
It’s ugly. The metal frame and black rubber don’t go well with its colourful surroundings. Because Gally grew up below the poverty line, and Minho was raised in a house that prioritised minimalistic perfection over love, they both swore to decorate freely when they moved in together. And they did.
The duvet and pillows are smothered by colourful blankets, and the walls are littered with photographs and paintings and posters and whatever other trinkets deemed appropriate for decoration.
The chair does not fit. It’s a step in the wrong direction. It’s a glimpse into a world they never wanted to fall into. Like always, Gally’s mind races, trying to locate answers to problems before anyone else even notices the issue.
He could pick up knitting again, maybe find a pattern to decorate the chair with. One of the throws on the bed was knitted by him months ago. It took forever, but made him proud. Making something similar for a wheelchair can’t be too difficult, right?
Slumping back onto the mattress, Gally opens his phone, deciding to order some more wool. Minho likes the colour yellow, so a few shades of that might be nice. However, he’s redirected to his email, messages from his boss about work. Rubbing the back of his neck he groans quietly, knowing he should answer sooner rather than later.
Paid leave for a week is what he requests after explaining the situation. Vince is a hard working man — old fashioned too — but he has a good heart. Gally knows his superior will allow it, but that doesn’t make his anxiety any better.
Gally leaves the room, gets Minho’s hospital bag and puts everything in the laundry to sort through in the morning. He finds himself leant against the kitchen counter, breathing heavily. The clock tells him it’s eight o’clock. For some reason, it’s this which breaks him at last. A muffled cry pulls itself from him and he hangs his head, scrunching his eyes shut as tears streak down his cheeks.
At first, he curses himself, because if Minho hasn't broken down yet, then he shouldn’t cry. He needs to be strong for Minho and keep it all in. But then, fuck that.
On a normal day, Minho would be opening the door about… now. He would slam it shut obnoxiously, announcing how many steps he achieved on today’s evening run and that he needs water before he passes out.
Some days, Gally would be already waiting with a full glass and Minho would dive over and kiss him and Gally would complain about him being sweaty. Other times, Gally would be finishing up a dozen emails and Minho would have to scream his name to snap him out of his busy trance, and Minho would kiss him anyway and call him a neglectful husband with a stupid grin.
Gally cries because he knows that’s all gone. He cries because he misses it, he cries because he’ll never have it again. He cries because all Minho ever wanted was to run and now the doctors say he’s never going to walk again.
That accident on the M6 motorway wasn’t even Minho’s fault. Some drunk fuck swerved into his car and sent multiple vehicles into the wrong lanes. Absolute chaos.
Three people died that day, and Gally was told to be grateful that his husband was even alive and breathing. But Gally knows that there is a big difference between alive and breathing, because Minho may be breathing, but he isn’t alive anymore. He never will be, as long as his legs aren’t functioning.
Gally cries so hard he thinks he will be sick.
He only dares going to the bedroom once he’s completely calm again, face neutral, no tear streaks. He changes. He crawls under the duvet. He faces Minho’s back and pulls him close, holding him like he might vanish any second. Minho doesn’t stir. For the moment, Gally will pretend everything is okay.
Sun breaks through the curtains they forgot to close. Through the night, Minho must have turned to face him because they’re curled up together, wrapped in one another’s warmth. Reluctantly, Gally gets up and heads to the kitchen.
Minho often woke up before the sun for a smoothie, then a run around the block. It feels unnatural for Gally to wake first.
Grabbing a few fruits from the fridge, Gally prepares them and drops them into the blender, followed by milk. As it whirrs, he fries a couple eggs for Minho, then balances everything on a tray.
"Morning." He chirps as he reenters, walking around to Minho’s side of the bed. Minho hums sleepily, so Gally places the tray on his side table and brushes Minho’s fringe aside, kissing his face.
Glancing at the wheelchair, Gally murmurs that he’ll be in the other room if Minho needs him, then he hurries away to make his own breakfast.
It’s as Gally is pouring himself cereal when he gets an idea about the front door — the house he just worked on had a large door that they replaced. Dialling the client’s number, Gally asks if they need someone to take it off their hands.
The elderly lady down the phone is more than happy to get the "lump of wood" out of her garage, and tells Gally she’ll order her son to drop it off to him right this minute. Gally laughs at her enthusiasm and thanks her deeply.
Gally is brushing his teeth when someone knocks at the door, and he opens it awkwardly to see a young man wrangling a large wooden block outside. Handing the man a fiver for his troubles, Gally leaves the door leaning against the fence and finishes with his teeth, knowing he’s just set himself a lot of work to do today.
Fitting a new door and frame isn’t the quietest of activities, so Gally is surprised when Minho doesn’t leave their room to tell him to shut up.
It takes an hour or so to fit it, not counting the additional twenty minutes he spent in the garage trying to find this one tool he ended u not needing, and he even got out his paint colour card pack, comparing each shade of blue in his collection to the old door. One drive to the shop later, he has the exact same shade of blue Minho picked out when they first moved in.
"Min?" Gally shouts through the house happily, bucket of paint secured in his hand, "Wanna help me with something?"
He gets no response, so he trudges through in his boots. The wooden floor groans with each step, and the bedroom door creaks when he nudges it open, reminding him to buy some oil for the hinges. Their bedroom is light, the sun shining through and caressing everything in a golden glow. Each wall is alive with colour, illuminated by the sun, but the bed remains dark.
"Minho," Gally repeats, softer, "I got a surprise for you." and he leans against the doorframe, holding up the blue bucket and waiting for Minho to turn around. He has to lower his arm from the strain after a minute, though, and he looks upon the shape beneath the duvet solemnly. Minho’s hair sticks out from the top, messy.
The plate of food he left Minho in the morning is untouched, but Gally stops himself from commenting.
"Okay.. sleep tight." Gally eventually murmurs, closing the door and standing in the hall for a moment. Pain grips his chest, twisting inside of his ribcage agonisingly.
He feels selfish for wanting Minho to just switch back to his old self already, but he can't stop pining for a normal day with the man he married.
"He needs rest." Gally closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against the door. The next thing he does is leave the paint bucket on the floor beside the settee as he crashes onto the pillows gloomily. He stares over at the still open door, dust collected on the floor from Gally's sawing.
Finding that the only thing that can calm his mind to any extent is working, Gally brainstorms what else he can do to help Minho out. He googles ways to make a house more accessible, which leads him to ordering a shower chair online with next day delivery. Until then, he begins with the house chores.
The doorbell goes off, waking Gally with a start. Groggily, he sits up and rubs his head — where is he? Eyes opening, he sees how he is sprawled out over the small settee. He must've gone down for a nap and completely crashed.
In his day clothes still — patchy old cargo trousers and a shirt that probably belongs to Minho since it's cropped to some extent — Gally answers the door, running his hand over his buzzcut, "Hello?"
"Morning." The delivery driver smiles, handing him a box, "Sign here, please."
Blinking slowly, Gally accepts the box and pen, scribbling G.L down on a small clipboard the man is holding, then retreating inside with the delivery. It takes him a couple minutes of him sitting down with the box on the table, staring at him, before he gathers the courage to open it. Inside, the shower seat he ordered, a pristine shade of white which matches their en-suite bathtub.
Breathing in and out heavily, Gally closes the box back up and shuts his eyes, hands on his knees. "I'm not gonna cry," he whispers, "nope. Not today."
His self-soothing words sound a bit silly aloud, but they allow him to hold himself together for a while longer. Lifting his head, he leaves the box on the living room table and heads towards the kitchen, whistling as he walks.
He pours out two bowls of cereal and creeps into the bedroom, "Mín.."
Not only does Minho not move, but Gally looks over and sees the plates he left Minho, none touched. He frowns tightly, walking over to the bed and crawling onto it without his hands, balancing the bowls carefully in order to not spill anything on the bed sheets.
"Minho. Wake up."
Minho grumbles something under his breath, then when Gally nudges him a few times, he rolls onto his back with some effort, "What is it, baby?"
"Eat." Gally holds the bowl out in front of Minho's face expectantly, and cuts in before Minho can protest, "You ate nothing yesterday, so I clearly can't trust you to be left alone. Eat."
Tongue sliding over his top row of teeth, Minho tuts to himself and sits upright following a pause. Gally shoves the bowl into his hands, and they eat silently, side by side. Gally sees Minho's bites speeding up as he realises how hungry he is, and Minho finishes before Gally gets halfway through. He stares awkwardly at his bowl, knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping it.
"Want some more?"
"Kinda."
"I left everything out on the isle."
"Gally." Minho pouts at him. Gally sighs.
"You should really get used to using the chair."
"Please, baby." Minho murmurs, looking down at his legs, buried beneath blankets, "I'm too tired. I promise I'll try later."
Taking his last bite, Gally tries to keep the stoic act up for a moment longer, then he drops it, "Fine." and takes Minho's bowl from him. "Pass the.. nasty stuff you left, will ya?"
Nose wrinkling, Minho turns and grabs the food Gally made yesterday, handing that to him as well. Gally scoffs at Minho's amusing expression and sneaks a kiss to his cheek.
Gally comes and goes through the bedroom door a few times that morning. To deliver Minho his cereal refill, to wash and change himself, to help Minho to the bathroom, and at last to carry through his delivery and toolkit. Minho glances up at him, but doesn't question it. His focus returns to his phone.
Feeling tired of the cropped shirt he's wearing, Gally stops before the en-suite bathroom to pull it over his head. This allows his ears to pick up on the sound coming from Minho's phone, making him freeze. Faintly, he can hear his own voice chanting out Minho's name, and a lively crowd all around.
The park fundraiser run just last year. Gally's been attending every race Minho has participated in since he joined the track team in secondary school, and filmed many by the finish line. Features softening, Gally's eyes look over to Minho, sat on the bed.
That fundraiser run was nothing for Minho. He came first out of their whole town, and didn't shut up about it for a month. Remembering Minho's unwavering enthusiasm over this year's London Marathon, Gally's gaze shifts to the drawers across the room.
Minho had laid out his outfit for the marathon before he drove to meet with a group of his University friends for their monthly catch-up. It was on the way back that his accident had occurred. They spent the day of the marathon in hospital; Minho receiving life saving surgery, Gally waiting alone on a chair outside.
Once Minho was stable and there was nothing Gally could do to help the situation any more, he was told to go home — where he was met with Minho's running clothes laid out on the bed, the shirt, number, all of it placed there with such care and excitement..
Gally threw up in the bathroom, then tucked the clothes away with shaky hands which gripped the fabric tightly, not wanting to let it go.
Snapping out of his trance, Gally creeps into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. He needs to distract himself before the reality of everything sets in again, so he opens the box and yanks out the shower seat, then the instructions.
To be fair to Gally, the print for the instructions manual is inhumanly small, so it's not entirely his fault when tossing the booklet aside leads to almost an hour of him trying to figure out how on earth it goes together. Minho throws a couple teasing comments at him through the door, for example, "I didn't know a wank session could last this long." leading to Gally calling him a twat.
But when he manages to set the seat up on the wall, all of his irritation fizzles out, even being replaced by joy when he perches himself on the seat and it doesn't collapse. "Love, come check this out!"
"I mean, I would but…"
"For Christ's sake, use your chair already."
"Ugh."
"Your promised."
"..I suppose I did."
Remaining sat on the seat, Gally grins as he hears movement from beyond the door, and his eyes light up as Minho pulls it open. They stare at each other for a moment. "Why are you shirtless— is that a shower seat?" Minho’s gawks, eyes creasing with amusement toward Gally’s thoughtfulness. Gally smiles back at him, making Minho roll his eyes, "You’re ridiculous."
"How?"
Minho laughs quietly, and Gally’s heart just soars. Until. "You’re acting like this is permanent. It could just be a few months I’m like this for."
Oh.
He doesn’t know.
Gally’s face must have dropped, because Minho’s smile falters.
"Gal?"
Ears ringing, Gally opens his mouth, then closes it again. If Minho has been this distressed and gutted over believing he’s temporarily disabled.. how the hell is he going to react when—
Minho’s face hardens, "Gally."
"I.. they didn’t…." Gally’s eyes become pleading and he stands in the bathtub, "Minho…"
Minho starts shaking his head, hands trembling as he grabs the wheels of his chair, "No." he drifts backwards, "No. No. Gally."
"I thought they told you." Gally climbs out of the tub with slow moments, as if he's scared Minho will dart away.
"Fuck—" Minho’s chest heaves, "no! You’re kidding."
"I didn’t say anything ‘cause.. because I thought you knew— and—"
Minho retreats to their room, "Damn it!" His shoulders shake as grief hits him at full force, "You knew I wasn’t getting better and didn’t say a thing? You let me hope?"
Knees feeling weak, Gally sinks down, and leans back against the bath, lips parted as he sucks in air.
Chair hitting the bed, Minho stares him down with wild eyes, before putting both his hands over his mouth to smother a wail, face scrunching up as he sobs desperately, tears soaking him. Gally watches, unable to move. Minho won’t look at him anymore, somehow spluttering out, "B-but.. I'm a runner"
Looking down at his hands, Gally curls them into fists and stumbles to his feet, reaching Minho in three strides. He wraps his arms around him even as Minho slaps at him in frustration. "I know," Gally whispers into the side of Minho's neck, "I know, I know.."
Realising none of his hits are even phasing Gally, Minho grips him back, crying into his shoulder without a care whilst his nails dig into Gally’s shirt. His anger completely dissipates into sadness, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Gally is unsure how long they stay this way, only that Minho cries himself to sleep, and Gally lifts him onto the bed and lays with him.
Maybe its minutes that pass, maybe its hours. They lie in the dark, bodies pressed together. It's a miracle Gally hears the faint sound that leaves Minho's mouth, but he does.
"I didn't mean to yell at you."
Breathing a fraction harder than before, Gally rubs a soft circle on Minho's back with his palm, "Mhm?"
It's not for another long while that Minho speaks again. An almost mouthed, "I'm sorry."
Gally pretends to be asleep.
Weight denting the mattress, Gally sits on his side of the bed, facing away from Minho. "You haven't moved in days."
Minho doesn't respond.
Listening to Minho's watch ticking along under the blankets, Gally's eyes fall shut, hands balling in his lap. "The doctors said.. that you should try adjusting to things sooner rather than later."
The sun lights up the wall, glinting against a framed picture of their first hike together. It was Minho's idea, something he proposed when they finally kissed after years of denying feelings. Minho meant it as a joke, even something flirtatious — a couple days alone with a tent in the mountains — but Gally surprised him with boots and a weekend trip.
"We're gonna need to figure out how to…" Gally licks his lips, "work on one income. We'll be fine, I already cover most things and we got a lot of compensation from the crash, but because your pay check was going toward y'know, fun stuff, maybe we'll have to cut down on things overtime." Gally hunches over, elbows resting on his legs, "I say we cancel our holiday to Iceland and do something in the Uk, hm?"
"But you've always wanted to go to Iceland and surprise your family." Minho speaks up.
"And.. you've always wanted to see the Lake District."
"Gally," Minho curls into himself further, "I… sorry."
"Don't be sorry." Gally stands, then walks around to Minho's side of the bed, crouching by his face. Minho watches him, and Gally puts a hand on Minho's cheek, thumb rubbing over Minho's cheekbone. Sliding his hand up to Minho's hair, Gally leans forward and kisses him lightly, "It'll be fun."
"Sure."
Gally knows Minho's sure means nothing.
As Minho remains entirely unmoved on his side of the bed, Gally is left alone. He's never been alone. He doesn't like it, not one bit. Yes, he has been by himself many times. Yes, he has fought away hardship more times than one person ever should.
One thing that he's never been through, though, is the gnawing sensation of loneliness that eats at you when the company you are in comes up empty.
He doesn't blame Minho for anything, he only acknowledges that his husband's clear depressive state is taking a toll on the whole household as the hours tick by.
Minho has been eating some foods. Just small portions, but food nonetheless, which is good. Dinner time rolls around and Gally sets the kitchen isle up neatly, lighting one of the decorative candles for effect. "Minho, love, dinner will be ready in ten minutes, alright?" He cups his mouth, words firm but with a gentle, hopeful edge.
He emailed one of the doctors that handled Minho's case earlier as he was sat with nothing to do, and she suggested that five, ten and half hour warnings for things may help with Minho adjusting. Even though he gets no verbal confirmation Minho has heard him, Gally knows his words have gone through.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Not the familiar, comforting sound of Minho's watch, but the kitchen clock high upon the wall.
Sausages and mashed potato neatly set out on the plates, Gally calls out again, "Okay, food's ready." and he hurries over to the bedroom, "Gotta be quick before it goes cold!"
Opening the door, Gally is surprised when the Minho-shaped lump under the duvet he has grown familiar to has gone.
"Minho?" His voice rings through the room, still dark with the curtains shut. His gaze falls upon a hunched over figure by their drawers, "Mín..?"
Minho is sat in his wheelchair, which lifts Gally's spirits for a second — he's finally using it! — but all hope he is holding comes crashing down when he sees Minho's shoulders clearly shaking with muffled sobs.
"Hey, hey…" Gally approaches him from behind, lightly putting his hands on Minho's shoulders to soothe their trembling. Looming over Minho, Gally realises what the cause of his upset is. "Oh, Minho." His face pales, as he rubs Minho's shoulders gently, unable to find the right words to say.
Jerking suddenly away from Gally's touch, Minho hugs his running bib tightly to his chest. Gally forgot he'd tucked it, as well as Minho's marathon number and new shorts, away in this drawer.
Minho had been training for a marathon, a dream he'd held since primary school, for months and months, and had got as far as being accepted into London's yearly 26.2 mile run.
The marathon was the day after Minho's accident. Gally's just glad Minho was unconscious and not watching the live feed on television from his hospital bed.
"Okay, okay, okay," Sliding his hands down, Gally buries his face into the back of Minho's neck and hugs his torso. Minho keeps crying, shuddering with every breath he takes.
"I was," Minho hiccups, "so fucking close."
"You were."
"It's not f-fair."
Gally doesn't know what to do. He doubts anything he says can soothe Minho.
"I was going to get dressed, be.. because I'm being a dead weight—"
"Min—"
"I'm so fucking done." A wail rips through Minho, so Gally kisses his neck gently as he holds him, but Minho shakes him off, "Fuck off!"
Letting his grip fall, Gally's chest aches, "C'mon, baby."
"Get out." Minho yells, turning to glare up at Gally with crazed eyes. Met with Gally's wounded expression, more tears start to dampen Minho's face, "Please."
Feeling nauseous, Gally steps away, then again, and again until he is out of the room completely. Minho turns back to his running gear, half concealed sobs shattering him life before. Gally curses himself inwardly.
He is a builder, for God's sake. His whole purpose is to fix things.
But there's no fixing this.
Gally eats his food alone.
"I know you don't want to get up, but this is important."
"I'm not going."
"You're being childish."
"I don't care."
"You should care," arms crossed Gally glares down at Minho, "the appointment is in two hours, enough time for you to get washed and changed before we go."
"What part of I'm not going do you not fucking understand?"
It's taken Gally years to get to this point with his anger management. He has grown from a fierce child throwing punches at walls just like his father, to a man who is now scared of killing moths. But Minho's stubbornness is testing him. "I don't want to argue with you, Minho."
"Then leave me alone. If they're not fixing my useless legs, I don't see why I need to go back to that hospital ever again."
"Your stitches—"
"Oh, bloody leave it, will ya? There's no point! I can't feel my legs, what difference does it make if they stay in or get ripped out?"
"Minho!" Gally raises his voice, fists balling. Bile crawls up his throat right away. Damn it, he does sound like Lawrence when he yells.
Minho keeps himself hidden underneath the duvet, "I wish you'd let me die in that hospital bed."
Seeing red, Gally launches, yanking the duvet off of Minho and grabbing him. He hauls Minho up before Minho can process what is happening, and swings him around so he is carrying him properly; one arm supporting Minho's back, the other hooked beneath Minho's knees.
"No—" Minho grunts, squirming, "put me down, I don't wanna—" Gally adjusts his hold on Minho, lifting him higher anyway. Minho shoves at Gally's chest. Gally doesn't react.
"Stop." Gally's eyes fix on the bathroom, fingers digging into Minho.
"You're gonna break your back if you keep lifting me all the time." Minho grips Gally's collar desperately, trying to make him listen, "And you'll get burnt out—"
Walking them towards the centre of the room, Gally is practically cradling Minho now, not able to look in his eyes, "I won't."
"—from constantly taking care of me like a baby." Minho's tone is heavy. Each time he verbally puts himself down, Gally feels pain strike him all over.
"Just practice for when we have kids." Trying to not supply Minho with a reaction, Gally keeps what he says aimed in a positive direction. Unfortunately, this line from him only serves to make Minho sob.
"I hate you!" Minho thumps his fist against Gally's back, pleading, "Just leave me already."
"..What?" Gally stumbles, almost letting his grip of Minho slip.
Minho stops attacking him, eyes betraying how he has crossed a line, but he doesn't back down, "I'm not worth it. I'm too much work, too much pressure."
"The hell?" Gally's face darkens, "Don't say that."
"It's the truth."
"It's not!" Distraught at even the thought of separating from Minho, Gally moves back towards the bed and tosses Minho onto the mattress, toppling upon him and pinning him down as tears threaten to build in his eyes. Minho squirms, wanting bitterly to free himself. Gally stares down into his eyes, breaths heavy, "And no. No way. I'm not ending things with you just because you're in a wheelchair. Do you realise how stupid that sounds?"
"Well, what if I break up with you, huh?" Minho hisses, failing to hide the expression on his face on the fence between loathing and heartbreak.
Minho shoves at Gally, so Gally simply grabs his wrists and presses down on them, rendering Minho defenceless. He feels cruel for it, as Minho's main line of defence and attack when they used to wrestle as boys was his pair of powerful legs, which no longer obey him, but Minho needs to learn that Gally is not trying to be his enemy, "That's a lot easier said than done, love. We're married."
Then, the only line Minho can think of, "I want a divorce."
Letting go of Minho's wrists, Gally cups Minho's face and brings it closer to his own, "You don't mean that." and quickly, their lips touch together. Gally kisses Minho as tenderly as he can manage, trying to boil everything he is feeling down into one act which shows that he cares.
Fortunately, Minho does kiss him back after a moment, grabbing onto Gally's collar again. They part for air, and with foreheads pressed together, close their eyes, calming down.
"If you want me to be mean, I'll be mean. You're going to this goddamn appointment, so tell me what you want to wear."
"You're a fucking dickhead." Minho growls, latching his lips back onto Gally's. He holds the back of Gally's neck down, the tips of his fingers pressing against Gally's short hair. Gally feels nostalgic to the early days of their friendship; the mean comments, the wrestling, the one night stands that stretched on and never seemed to end.
There used to be a fire raging between them that has long since been tamed, and Gally's happy about it. He will always prefer the gentle touches and soft words over kissing his knuckles before a punch.
Pulling Minho back into his arms, Gally pauses, then gives him a squeeze. Not the constricting kind like before. But a gentle pulse, wanting to hold Minho just a bit closer to him.
It's dark when they get back. Being wheeled down the front garden, Minho lifts his head, "Uh, Gal?"
"Mhm?"
"Why isn't our door.. blue..?"
Gally stops, then chuckles, "I did tell you I had a surprise for you."
Minho's jaw drops slightly, "You got a new door? When? How? How much?"
"Free, don't worry." Gally sighs, "Most expensive thing was the paint, but… I was— nevermind."
"Hm?"
Face heating up, Gally doesn't look at minho, focusing on unlocking the door with the keys given to him, "I was thinking we could paint it together. Like we did to the other door. I.. I found the same paint."
"You're too good for me." Minho exhales after a few seconds of thought, but Gally can't hear the usual humour in his voice. It's dull.
Pushing the chair inside, Gally kicks his boots off and watches as Minho bends down to untie his old running trainers. His eyes get hooked to Minho's fingers, the care they present when unravelling the loops, and the utter longing they carry in every movement.
Turning on the lights, their grey looking home turns golden at the flick of a switch, and Gally helps Minho out of his chair, lifting him towards the sofa so he can sit.
"I'll carry your chair to our room cause I'm not sure how dirty the wheels are."
"They're fine, Gal."
"Oh, did you listen to what the doctor said? You can bathe and shower properly now," a shy smile crosses Gally, "maybe you can try out the shower seat."
"Maybe." Minho's eyes are hollow, "I kind of want a bath, though."
"Ah yeah, fair enough. Look, you undress right where you are and I'll run the water."
"Here? Nude on the sofa?" Minho does a mock gasp, humour still raging within him, "Do you take me for some kind of animal?"
Gally raises an eyebrow, "You do realise we had sex right where you're sat earlier this year, right?"
Minho rolls his eyes at him, but Gally can tell he's worn out, so he makes no more moves to joke and heads to the bathroom. The bath always takes a while to heat up, meaning when the water is halfway and Minho has stripped himself, it's still lukewarm instead of hot.
The bath is almost done by the time he finally carries Minho inside, but he sits him on the footstool for a moment as he tests the water’s temperature. Minho raises an eyebrow at him, "Stop worrying, it’s not like I’ll feel it." And for once, Gally wishes Minho wasn’t speaking.
"Don’t be like that."
The worst part is that Minho doesn’t argue. He only scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Gally lifts him back up, then dips Minho’s feet into the bath first, followed by his shins, knees, thighs, and finally his hips. Minho grabs the edges of the bath with his hands, silently insisting he lowers the rest of his body in himself. Gally lets him.
"So.. do you want me to stay? Or come back when you’re done?" Gally steps back, standing upright as he looks around. The soaps are in Minho’s reach, and there’s a towel waiting for him beside the bath.
He can see it in Minho’s face how Minho goes to snap angrily, but words fail him. "I’ll call you." Is what leaves his mouth. Nodding, Gally retreats, pausing in the doorway for a moment.
Once he shuts the door, the light from the bathroom seeps away, leaving Gally in complete darkness. He pauses, fingers still gripping the handle, but he forces himself to remain calm and keep on pushing forward.
Vince and him have been emailing back and forth, settling that for now, Gally is free to take as much time as he needs off with Minho, as long as he deals with all his customer emails. Pulling his laptop out of his bedside drawer, Gally blinks sleepily, mouse trying to locate his mail app. There are only twenty three messages, half of what he usually gets per day.
Many messages are either clients asking for more services, or a few new customers looking for a team to help. Gally starts answering them, oldest to newest.
Halfway through a paragraph to a client renovating their entire house, Gally hears a noise from the bathroom.
A sob.
He freezes, looking up toward the door, but he knows Minho hates an audience when he’s upset. God, Gally’s heart may as well be breaking. With bleary eyes, he finishes the email and sends it on its way, shutting his laptop tightly and putting his head in his hands.
The guilt he feels is immense. Minho really didn't want to move today, and Gally would've let him spend another day dead to the world if it wasn't for his stitches removal. Gally could tell that everything became a hundred times more real for Minho, sitting on that bed back at the hospital, trousers rolled up to reveal injuries that Gally can't even begin to imagine on the pain scale.
Minho doesn’t call for him for another ten minutes, and Gally is in there immediately when he does, draining the water and wrapping Minho in a towel. Minho has splashed water over his face to hide his tears, and Gally pretends he never heard a thing. It’s the least he can do.
Feeling more refreshed, Minho determinedly changes himself into his pyjamas, and adjusts himself on the bed, pulling the duvet over himself. His eyes are shut before Gally even says good night.
Gally's eyes flicker open, exhaustion weighing them down. It's still dark in the room, so he feels for Minho beside him on the bed. His arms remain empty. "Mín?" He croaks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
He is alone in the room. He hasn't slept alone in here since Minho was hospitalised. All at once, Gally's heart stops and panic sets in. Tearing away the covers, he pushes himself to his feet, reaching the door. No. Was Minho serious about splitting up? Has he left?
"Minho?" Gally cries out, reaching the kitchen.
He pauses in the doorway, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks.
Minho with his hair still damp, in his chair, is by the sink with a large glass of water in his hand.
"Gal?" Minho whispers, voice hoarse. Lip trembling, Gally mutters oh god and hurries over to him, dropping to his knees before the chair and hugging Minho tightly around the waist, burying his face into Minho's lap. Placing his cup aside, Minho hesitantly lowers his hands, one stroking Gally's hair and the other braced against Gally's shoulder, "What the hell happened?"
Hushing himself, Gally breathes Minho in, squeezing him tightly. "I thought you.. I thought you left, Minho."
He hears Minho sigh, still running his fingers through Gally's buzzcut, "It's on my mind."
"Why?"
"I'm holding you back."
"Bullshit." Pulling back, Gally looks up at Minho, still knelt against the cool kitchen tiles, "Stop lying to yourself." Minho looks as if he is holding his own tears in now, and his eyes dart away. Gally's eyes search his expression, "Talk to me, love."
"I don't even wanna live, y'know."
Gally's breathing hitches, hands on Minho's knees tightening — not like Minho notices that.
Swallowing, Gally shakes his head, looking down at the floor. "Gally.." Minho says softly, but Gally isn't listening. He rises to his feet, biting on his knuckles as he tries to stop himself from sobbing.
After a moment of letting those words sink in, Gally lifts the collar of his nightshirt and wipes his eyes with it. "No." He chokes out simply, dropping his shirt and gesturing for Minho to sit up with his hands. Minho frowns, confused, but seems to understand when Gally leans down and lifts him, pressing their bodies together.
"Careful, your back." Minho mutters into Gally's shoulder as he wraps his arms around Gally's neck. Gally ignores him, and instead of carrying him like usual, he balances Minho's feet on top of his own and holds him close, swaying side to side.
They both breathe deeply, all the despair of the last few days numbing as they hold each other, chests rising and falling in harmony. "Do you remember what song we danced to at our wedding?" Gally mumbles into Minho's warm skin, lips brushing against his neck.
"The one your dad said was the most tacky."
"Uh-huh." Gally breathes, "It's a shame he didn't show up, 'cause his reaction would've been so funny."
"I bet." Minho huffs, not quite a laugh yet, but they're getting there.
They are quiet for a while, dancing to silence in the moonlight which seeps through the front window, until Gally sniffles, "Don't say bad things about yourself."
"I'll try." Sleepy, Minho nuzzles into Gally, forcing himself to stay awake so he can enjoy the peaceful moment, "I think.. I could stay here forever."
Gally hums, agreeing, even though his feet are starting to cramp up from Minho's full body weight resting on them. He doesn't mention it, just happy to be this close with his husband.
Minho presses his chin on Gally's shoulder, "Although, we really should go to bed."
"Five more minutes?"
"…Okay."
"Min?" Gently shaking Minho's shoulder, Gally wakes his husband up, "Morning."
Frowning, Minho can tell that something is up and hovers his watch in front of his face, "The fuck? It's five, go back to sleep." His voice is scratchy, clogged by sleep.
"I wanna go out with you. Get some fresh air."
If this was the Minho Gally knew before the crash, he would be up already, eagerly changing and questioning where they are headed to. This Minho stares at him, eyes lighting up as much as he dares allow them. "..Serious?"
Gally nods, stretching his arms up, "It's chilly out there, mind. Do you even have cold-weather clothes?"
"What's the point in buying them when yours fit just as well?"
"Because.. my clothes belong to me? Not you?"
"Since you don't wanna divorce me, everything in this house is ours."
Not arguing any further, Gally pulls a couple of his shirts from his drawer, followed by jumpers and his raggedy jeans. He grabs Minho's underwear and joggers, smiling proudly as Minho works his way off of the bed and onto his chair. Rolling himself toward Gally, Minho accepts the pile of clothing off of him and starts to change, yawning as he does so.
"Is being up right now really necessary, though?"
"Uh-huh, if you wanna watch the sunrise, that is."
Expression melting into genuine shock, Minho gets closer and prods Gally's temple, "Who are you and what have you done with my husband…"
Gally bats his hand away with a huff, changing himself, "Still me, unfortunately."
Trying to mould their morning to cater to Minho, they get ready, both chug a smoothie, then munch down on some marmalade toast in the strange, blue light the earth holds before the sun clocks in for its shift. They talk like they used to. A random online video they thought was stupid, an out of place newspaper article, who's turn it is to do what chore.
The birds are minutes away from singing, meaning their walk to the park is almost completely silent, the eeriness broken only by their own voices and a couple of passing vehicles. A folded blanket lays across Minho's lap, Gally having insisted he needs to keep his legs warm.
Completely empty. Gally would've expected at least a couple of people wandering around, but no. The park is completely empty. All the grass and foliage sit looking down at the valley their town stretches into below, meaning they can see the earth go on for a few miles from the bench they settle for. Minho stands his chair beside the bench, and Gally slides closer to him on the seat, relaxed.
The sun doesn't keep them waiting for long, as light floods the valley swiftly, the dark blue sky splattered with a layer of violet on the horizon.
Violet becomes pink, which becomes orange, which becomes a delicate shade of yellow. Birds break out into song in the trees surrounding them, making the world seem a bit better for the moment. Gally's eyes track a pair of the sparrows silhouetted against the early light, dancing through the skies up above with a carefree nature to their movements.
Reaching over, Gally takes Minho's hand in his own, fingers locking together comfortably. "I get why you went on so many early runs. This is pretty."
"Yeah." Minho rubs his thumb over Gally's knuckles, "I wish I had my energy back."
"It's gonna return, we've just gotta be patient." Gally murmurs, moving his eyes from the sunset to their clasped hands.
Minho tilts his face to look at Gally, "How can you be so sure?" Gally barely hears him, too focused on how Minho looks. His hair is somehow styled pleasantly even though Minho hasn't touched it. He wears a dark burgundy jumper from Gally's collection, and it fits him quite well. Minho may be physically shorter than him and not as broad shouldered, but he is well built enough to look natural wearing Gally's wardrobe.
Averting his eyes, Gally shrugs one shoulder casually, "I know the man I married, and he is the strongest person I've met, so you need to trust me when I say it's gonna work out fine."
"What about money? You can't handle everything by yourself, and I'm certain the gym isn't going to hire me back. It's far from wheelchair accessible in there."
"There's another gym across town, we could check that place out." The birdsong gets louder, and Gally closes his eyes, "We'll be alright."
Minho frowns to himself, yet looks at Gally's calm expression and holds back his further complaints, deciding to breathe instead.
They depart from the park, unsure where to head next. It is Minho who suggests they travel down to the high street. Feeling full of energy, Gally grips the handles of Minho's chair harder and begins pushing him forward with speed, jogging down the desolate path.
"Whoa—" Minho sits back, glancing over his shoulder at Gally with, beaming, "I swear to God, if we crash—"
Snorting, Gally continues, laughing breathlessly. Spotting how the nearest cafe to them is open, he steers them that way, slowing down as they reach the entrance. "This place looks sweet." He comments, pushing open the door so Minho can wheel himself inside.
The door chimes as they enter, and Gally internally cringes at all the autumnal decorations the cafe has plastered everywhere. He gives Minho's shoulder a pulse to try and talk without words. Minho understands, and hums, "Remember when this place was a noodle bar?"
"It was..? Wait— yeah! Aw, Newt and Thomas liked that place."
"Let's see if this cafe is good enough to be its replacement…" Minho glances around suspiciously, making Gally grin.
Choosing a table, Gally parks up Minho's chair at it and sits opposite him, passing over one of the menus, "What are you thinking?"
"I'm not awfully hungry… so probably just a drink."
There is a long pause. "What kind of drink." Gally jokingly whines at Minho.
Minho whinges right back at him, "I don't know yet."
"Then stop looking at the desserts page and flip to the drinks page."
"You didn't even give me time to see what page I was on." Glaring at Gally, Minho turns the page comedically slow, "Drinks.. hmm."
"I might get a hot chocolate." Gally murmurs, squinting at the page. A whole range of fancy seasonal drinks have been added to the menu, but all of them look like they have enough sugar to kill a small child. The classic hot chocolate seems just right.
"Make that two."
Smiling, Gally stands, cracking his back, then wanders over to the till to order. He returns with two steaming drinks, both with unnecessarily tall whipped cream pyramids upon them, coated in chocolate powder. Already silently laughing at one another, they take a sip in unison, and glance back across the table.
Minho sees cream stuck to the tip of Gally's nose.
Gally just stares into Minho's eyes.
Conversation arrives after cleaning their faces up. "I think I could pull a mullet off." Gally strokes his chin, deep in thought.
"Gal, I love you, but no."
"What?"
"You have two options living in our house. The buzz, or you grow it out curly."
"But curls take so much effort.."
"When you leave me then you're free to choose, but not when you're with me."
Gally shifts uncomfortably, "Phrasing it like that makes it sound like me going is inevitable."
Eyes dropping to his drink, Minho shrugs.
"Minho."
Reluctant, Minho meets Gally's stern gaze.
"I love you. I loved you when you gave me the wrong order at the bar three consecutive times when we first met. I loved you when you gaslit me into thinking you were straight after you kissed me. I loved you when you didn't cry at our wedding but cried in the car the next day over a sad video about Winston's pet dog." Gally watches Minho for a reaction, "I love you and I've never been able to understand you."
"But who's to say that won't change in a year or two? Because I sure as hell am not the man you say you fell in love with."
"You still are—"
"Gally, I'm not sure if I can go on," Minho looks down at his hands intensely, "running was my life."
"We'll start over. New hobbies, new holidays.." Gally's voice drifts off, sensing Minho's lack of enthusiasm.
"You don't understand. I'm nothing when I'm not running. When my legs are aching and my chest hurts and the wind is hitting my face — it's that what makes me feel real, and alive. Without it.. well. I feel like a corpse already."
"That's two extremes." Gally mutters, "Instead of being alive or dead, find a middle ground maybe."
"Surviving?"
"Sure."
"But I want to live."
"You'll be able to source life from more things than running, in time." Pulling Minho's hand across the table, Gally presses a kiss to his knuckles.
Fondly, Minho squeezes Gally' hand, "I hope so. For your sake, I hope so."
The hot chocolates stand forgotten on the table as the two men watch only each other.