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The hospital hallway smelled like antiseptic and a little like mint, the kind of air freshener someone had clearly overcompensated with. Wooyoung had been in the same vinyl chair for forty minutes, blond hair falling loose over his forehead, thumb scrolling through the aftercare instructions on his phone for the fourth time, one knee bouncing without his permission. Beyond the half-drawn blinds, the afternoon light had gone thin and gold. Somewhere down the hall, a monitor kept up its steady, patient beeping.
He could hear footsteps approaching, and Mingi appeared with a plastic bag crinkling in his fist. Bags of crisps, pudding, and a can of biscuit poked out of the top. "Snack stash secured," he whispered. It was already the end of the day, and they decided to spend the night there.
Just then the nurse appeared behind him.
"He's awake-ish," she said, with the tired smile of someone who'd seen this a thousand times. "Fair warning, he's still coming off the IV sedation, so he might not be fully conscious yet."
Wooyoung was already on his feet. He thanked her with a quick nod, and she gave a small bow before heading back down the hall. Then, he and Mingi stepped up to the door and knocked, softly, like they might wake the whole floor.
Relief hit Wooyoung so hard his shoulders dropped an inch.
San was propped against a pile of pillows, an IV line taped to the back of his hand, his cheeks puffed out with gauze like a chipmunk preparing for winter. He looked weirdly cute in his hospital gown, which was slightly crooked at the collar. His black hair had flopped over his eyes, making him look even softer than usual. His eyes were glassy and half-lidded, drifting lazily across the ceiling, over the blinds, past the IV pole, until they landed on Wooyoung.
And stopped.
The two of them moved closer to the bed. Mingi spoke first, leaning a hip against the railing. "San-ah, you doing okay?"
San didn't answer. He only blinked, slow as a sleepy cat. Wooyoung braced himself and lowered his voice. "Hey, baby. How are you feeling?"
Still nothing. San just stared up at him, mouth hanging slightly open around the gauze, with the face of a man witnessing a religious event. Seeing him like this made Wooyoung's heart wrench, half from sympathy, half from gratitude that everything had gone fine and all he needed now was rest.
"...Whoa," San breathed.
Mingi snickered, clearly not expecting that. He drifted back toward the sofa in the corner to set down the snack bag, though he kept one eye on the bed.
"Yeah?" Wooyoung leaned in, fighting a smile, one hand resting on the bed rail. "You feel alright? Everything went great. You did so well."
"Whoa," San said again, slower, his head lolling a little on the pillow, eyes never leaving Wooyoung's face. "You're... you're like, really pretty."
Heat crept up Wooyoung's neck, the anesthesia must’ve affected him hard for him to be like this. Wooyoung pressed his lips together and looked down for a second. "Thank you."
"No, like..." San swayed against the pillows, brow furrowing with great effort. "Like, really. Are you—" He gasped, which turned into a wet cough, which turned into a delighted giggle. "Are you doctor?"
Behind them, Mingi was fumbling with something and muttering. "Shoot, gotta have this on tape."
Wooyoung decided to ignore him. For now. "I'm not a doctor."
"Oh." San's whole face crumpled with genuine disappointment, then cleared just as fast. His eyes widened, and he leaned forward as far as the pillows allowed, voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "Are you... an angel?"
Another snicker from the sofa. "This is gold."
"No, I'm not an angel," Wooyoung said, biting his lip. The cuteness aggression was climbing his ribs and he had to curl his fingers against the rail to keep from squishing those puffed-up cheeks. "I'm a human, baby."
He reached out and gently combed the hair away from San's eyes, noticing the soft pink blooming across his cheeks. San leaned into the touch without seeming to realize it. "Just like you," Wooyoung added with a smile.
He tilted his head toward the corner. "Just like Mingi too."
Mingi, standing several steps away with his phone held up, gave a cheerful little wave from behind the screen. Wooyoung would deal with him later.
"Mmm," San pouted. "I don't think so~?" He tried to shake his head, but the movement was small and sluggish, the pillow rustling under him, and it only made him look cuter.
"Why~?" Wooyoung kept stroking his hair, slow and steady.
"You're like... twinkling twinkling," San said, lifting one limp hand from the blanket to wiggle his fingers in the air near Wooyoung's face. The tape on the IV tugged with it. Then he pointed vaguely toward the sofa. "And that man is like... not twinkling twinkling."
Wooyoung laughed under his breath.
Mingi lowered his phone. "Yah, you're actually awake, aren't you?"
"Look, he's meanie..." San tucked his chin down and sank deeper into the pillows, peeking at Wooyoung over the edge of the blanket like a kid hiding from a monster.
Wooyoung pressed a hand flat to his own chest, fighting for composure and losing completely. He turned to the sofa, trying and failing to sound stern.
"Mingi-ya, don't be a meanie."
Mingi stuck his tongue out at him, unrepentant, and went right back to recording. Wooyoung turned back to the sleepy boy in front of him.
"It's okay," he murmured, softening his voice again. "He won't bother you."
He slid his hand under San's limp one on the blanket and stroked his thumb slowly across the knuckles, careful of the IV tape. San's gaze dropped, unfocused, to their hands, and he studied them like he'd never seen hands before.
"Even your hands pretty..." he muttered.
Then, absentmindedly, and with what looked like every ounce of energy he had left, he lifted their joined hands off the bed, wobbling a little on the way up, and pressed a clumsy, gauze-muffled kiss to Wooyoung's knuckles.
Wooyoung went still. Heat rushed up from his collar to the tips of his ears. He bit his lip, his only defense against leaning down and kissing San right here, right now, gauze in his mouth and all. He squeezed their hands instead.
"Sorry," San whispered. His brows knitted together as he looked up, as if only just realizing he'd kissed a stranger's hand without asking.
"No, no." Wooyoung shook his head, smiling helplessly. He lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to the back of San's, slow and deliberate this time. "It's okay, San-ah."
San gasped softly and leaned toward him. His whole body tilted with the effort, the pillows sliding out from behind him, and Wooyoung caught his shoulder before he could slump sideways off the bed. He eased him back against the pillows and tucked the blanket up over his lap, one hand staying on his arm.
"You know my name?" San's eyes went wide, round and shining under the fluorescent light. He sounded so hopeful that Wooyoung's heart squeezed. He wrapped both hands around San's, holding it close against his chest.
"Yeah," he began.
"It's on your patient tag, San-ah." Mingi cut in, not appreciating the moment at all. He'd settled onto the sofa by now, leaning on it, phone still aimed at them.
Wooyoung turned to Mingi, "shut up."
But San wasn't looking at Mingi. When Wooyoung turned back, San was still staring at him, head tilted against the pillow, lips parted around the gauze. This was the same man he woke up next to every morning, strong arms around his waist and a pillow crease pressed into his cheek. The one who never said a word of complain whenever Wooyoung asked him to do something, just rolled his shoulder once and got on with it. The one who showed up when Wooyoung's car broke down at midnight without being asked twice, worried but still calm, toolbox already in hand. The one who took every bad day standing, jaw set, "it's fine, I got it" his answer to almost everything, right up until Wooyoung pried it out of him hours later, at 2am, voice finally cracking into something honest. Also the same man who was always ready to tell Wooyoung that he did great whenever he doubted himself.
And now he was gazing at Wooyoung like he'd hung the moon and personally lit it. Something warm and ridiculous settled in his chest and refused to leave.
"What?" Wooyoung asked after several moments of silence, his voice soft and full of adoration. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
San's brow furrowed, and he squinted like he was reading fine print. "Who... are you again?"
"I'm Wooyoung." He brushed his thumb along San's cheek, feeling the warmth of it, the slight puffiness from the gauze. "Why?"
"Here..." San waved his free hand vaguely at the room, the IV line swinging with it. "What you doing... here?"
"Here?" Wooyoung hummed and made a show of glancing around, at the blinds, the beeping monitor, the sad little tray of untouched ice chips. He turned back with a small smile. "I'm here for my boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?"
Wooyoung nodded, and once again his heart wrenched at how San's face fell, his shoulders sinking a little into the pillows.
"You have... you have boyfriend?"
Wooyoung nodded again, deciding to play along for a moment. "Yeah, I do."
"Aish..." San pouted for the nth time that day, his lower lip pushing out around the gauze. Then, as if he'd scraped together one last ounce of determination, he lifted his chin. "Are you sure?"
Wooyoung and Mingi both broke into laughter.
"I'm sure," Wooyoung said, still grinning. "We've been dating for three years."
San shrank into the bed as if that were the saddest news in the world, pulling the blanket up to his chin. "Mm. That's... that's hard, then." He sniffled, gaze sliding to the wall, the picture of a man with no hope left. Then, quietly: "He's good.. for you?"
Wooyoung bit his lip again. This was the softest, most unfair interrogation of his life. "Honestly? The best I could've asked for."
San gave a tiny nod, then made a slow, wobbly fist and threw a weak little punch at the air beside him, like he was ready to fight this boyfriend right now. Then he winced, the effort too much for his jaw, and muttered a soft curse under his breath, muffled by the gauze. "Umm... thats... good, then."
Mingi couldn't take it anymore. "Wooyoung-ah, why are you doing this to him? Look at his face." He called out from the sofa.
Wooyoung chuckled and placed two fingers under San's chin, tilting it gently until their eyes met. "Do you know who my boyfriend is?"
San gazed up at him, sorrowful and wide-eyed. "No."
"It's you, baby."
For a second, nothing happened. Then San's whole face lit up so bright it almost hurt to look at. His eyes went round and shiny, and he sat up an inch before the pillows caught him. "Really?"
"Well, if you want to," Mingi offered, earning a sharp *tsk* from Wooyoung.
"Yes! Yes..." San nodded so eagerly his hair flopped back into his eyes. "I want... please."
Wooyoung cooed and, unable to hold back the cuteness aggression a second longer, leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. San scrunched his face and giggled, the sound wet and delighted around the gauze.
"You guys are so cute it makes me sick," Mingi said with a groan. "I can't even use this footage to blackmail you. It's just wholesome."
They both ignored him. San's fingers curled loosely around Wooyoung's wrist, his grip weak and warm. "Can you do it... do it again?"
"Do what?"
"Kiss me."
Wooyoung's breath caught. Of course he could. He wanted to. But he could see San's eyelids drooping lower and lower, blinking slowly, each one lingering a little longer than the last. Even the tension in his fingers was starting to fade.
"I can," Wooyoung said gently, "but later."
San's whole face fell, and it squeezed something in Wooyoung's chest. "When?"
"Later, baby, when you wake up and feel better. I'll kiss you as much as you want." He smoothed the hair back from San's forehead. "But you need to rest now. Okay?"
San took a long moment to process. "...Promise?"
"I promise you."
"You double promise?"
Wooyoung chuckled and nodded, still stroking his hair. "Double promise. Go to sleep."
He helped San slide down against the pillows, tugged the blanket up over his shoulders, and tucked it in around his arm, careful of the IV. Then he leaned down and pressed a long, gentle kiss to San's forehead. San smiled up at him with the softest, sleepiest expression, eyes already closing.
"I love you," he murmured.
Wooyoung paused, his hand resting in San's hair. His throat felt tight. It didn't matter that San had no idea who he was right now. Some part of him knew anyway.
"I love you too," Wooyoung whispered.
"Stop being so lovey-dovey?" Mingi groaned from the sofa.
Wooyoung shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. "Shut up," he hissed, glancing back at San to make sure he hadn't stirred.
"Wow." Mingi raised both hands. "One second you’re like “i wuv u baby” next second you’re telling me to shut up."
Mingi was lucky they needed to behave in the hospital or else Wooyoung would be throwing hands.
-
Several hours later.
San woke up slowly, the way a phone comes back from dead: one flicker, a long blank pause, then everything at once.
The light had changed. The gold from earlier had disappeared, it was already night. The monitor still beeped its patient rhythm. Someone had swapped out his soaked gauze while he slept, and his jaw felt like it belonged to a stranger, thick and numb and vaguely swollen.
He lay still for a moment, collecting his energy, and let his eyes wander. Ceiling tiles. IV pole. The tray of untouched ice chips. He could recognize Mingi’s large body on the sofa, head tipped back against the cushion, his phone playing some kind of video and a half-eaten pudding cup balanced dangerously on his stomach. He looked like he'd lost a fight with a nap.
Then San's gaze drifted to the chair beside the sofa, and stopped.
A familiar gray jacket was draped over the backrest. A phone charger cable snaked across the armrest. A half-empty water bottle sat on the side table, and beside it, was Wooyoung's keys, the little cat keychain San had won him at an arcade catching the last of the light. A small, warm wave rolled through his chest, and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch up before he could smooth it back into something neutral.
He cleared his throat, which hurt, and kept his voice low and raspy. "Mingi-ya."
Nothing.
"...Mingi-ya."
Mingi jerked awake, and the pudding cup slid off his stomach and landed on the cushion. He blinked around groggily, hair flattened on one side, then saw San sitting up against the pillows. His whole face brightened. He scrambled off the sofa, nearly tripping over his own shoe, and crossed the room in a few quick strides.
"Ya! Oh San-ah, you're up. Oh, thank God." He leaned over the bed rail, peering at him. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"
San considered it with all the gravity of a man being interviewed, then gave a slow, steady nod. "I’m good." His tongue felt too big for his mouth. He swallowed, wincing, and added after a moment, "Just thirsty."
"Yeah, of course, hang on." Mingi grabbed a fresh water bottle from the snack bag and twisted the cap loose. "Small sips, okay? The nurse said..."
"Where's Wooyoung?"
Mingi's hand froze mid-twist. "Wah. Really?" Mingi pressed a hand to his chest like he'd been shot.
San's eyes had already flicked to the door, then to the chair, then back to Mingi. One eyebrow lifted, patient and completely unbothered, fingers drumming once against the blanket.
"You couldn't at least play nice? Small talk? ‘How long have you been here'? Nothing, just straight up Wooyoung."
San only looked at him, eyebrows still raised, and took the bottle right out of his hand. He tipped his head back and drank, long and unhurried, the plastic crinkling under his fingers. Water dripped down his chin onto the crooked collar of his gown. He didn't seem to mind.
He smiled at his dramatic friend before saying. “Thanks for taking care of me, Mingi-ya”
Mingi watched him with a long, suffering sigh. "Even when you were high you only cared about Wooyoung." He shook his head, mock-tragic. "Unbelievable. I'm literally the best friend of the year."
San lowered the bottle, wiped his chin with the back of his wrist, and said nothing. He didn’t know what Mingi was talking about, and didn’t have the energy to ask.
Then the bathroom door clicked open. Wooyoung stepped out drying his hands on his jeans, hair damp at the temples, eyes glued to his phone. He was scrolling through the aftercare list for what had to be the fifth time, and he didn't look up as he crossed the room toward the jacket on the chair.
"Wooyoung-ah," Mingi called from the bedside.
"Hm? Hold on, I just want to check if he can have..."
"Wooyoung-ah. Look up."
Wooyoung looked up.
San was sitting against the pillows, hair mussed, gown crooked, water bottle in his lap, eyes wide open and fixed right on him.
For half a second, Wooyoung didn't move. Then his phone slipped out of his hand, clattered off the chair, and skidded under the bed, and he didn't even blink.
"San-ah!" It came out half gasp, half squeal. "You're awake!”
As if his excitement influenced him, San smiled. “You’re here,”
Wooyoung crossed the room in three strides and practically threw himself onto the edge of the mattress, the frame groaning under him. He caught San's face in both hands, tilting it one way, then the other, like he needed to confirm every inch of it was really looking back at him.
“Do you recognize me?”
“Of course I do.” San answered, albeit looking a little confused. Wooyoung chuckled, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
He peppered kisses across San's forehead, temples, and the tip of his nose, quick and breathless. "How do you feel? Does it hurt?”
"'M okay, 'M okay!" San laughed, which made him wince, which made him laugh harder, his shoulders shaking against the pillows. He wrapped both arms around Wooyoung's waist and hauled him in, half-hugging, half-clinging. He then whispered to his ear, “you look so pretty though.”
Wooyoung giggled at the familiar flirty comments he also said several hours ago. “You’ve told me that earlier.”
“I did?” San pulled back to look at Wooyoung.
“Yup.” Mingi answered instead, and both of them didn’t realize he was already perched back on the sofa. “All recorded on my phone.”
“What.” San blinked. Momentarily forgetting Wooyoung in his hold. “Was I awake earlier?”
“You did, but you were high on anesthesia.” San blinked as if trying to remember anything that happened earlier. “It’s okay, you were cute.” Wooyoung cradled San's cheeks, thumbs stroking the swollen curve beneath his eyes, and his own were suspiciously shiny.
"Yeah, you even double promised Wooyoung to kiss you as much as you want, all taped. So all in all, thanks to me." Mingi added, waggling the phone with a smug little flourish.
Wooyoung's face went red to the tips of his ears.
San blinked at him, processing, his head tilting slowly against the pillow like the information was arriving one word at a time. Then something shifted in his expression, a slow, dawning grin spreading across his puffy cheeks.
"I said that?"
"Among many other things." Mingi snickered, already scrolling back through the footage. "Goldmine, I'm telling you."
"Mm." San nodded, choosing not to think about the many other things for now. Instead, he turned his head on the pillow to look at Wooyoung beside him, whose hand had come to rest around San’s broad shoulder at some point without either of them noticing.
"What?" Wooyoung asked, half laughing, thumb brushing absent circles against the thin fabric of the gown. "You want me to kiss you now?"
San reached up and hooked a loose finger through the collar of Wooyoung's shirt, tugging, insistent despite the tremble in his arm. "You said. No backing out."
Wooyoung laughed, caught somewhere between embarrassment and something helplessly fond, and let himself be pulled down. He pressed a kiss to San's cheek, careful of the swelling, and San immediately turned his face to try and catch the next one on his mouth instead, missing slightly and landing near his jaw.
"Later," Wooyoung whispered, lips still close enough to brush skin. "You literally have gauze in your mouth."
"'M fine." San tried to sit up straighter to prove it, jaw set, the same stubborn line he wore everytime. It lasted about two seconds before his arm gave out and he sank back into the pillows with a small, betrayed noise. "...I miss you," he admitted, quieter this time, the fight draining out of his voice as fast as it had come.
Wooyoung gave in. He kissed him properly, gentle and mindful of the gauze tucked in his cheek. It was soft, a little clumsy, warmth blooming slow through his chest like something finally settling into place. Something in Wooyoung's chest unspooled at the contact, the same fondness he always felt kissing him, except sharper now, edged with how close he'd come to almost losing this feeling for even a moment.
San made a small, pleased sound against his lips and went boneless into the pillows, the last of his stubbornness melting out of him, his hand slipping from Wooyoung's collar to his chest, before settling on his waist again.
The room had gone quiet except for the soft beep of the monitor and the crinkle of a snack wrapper as Mingi dug into the bag.
"That's right, guys. I'm not here. I'm just a hallucination," Mingi said, deadpan, from behind his phone.
They broke apart, laughing, foreheads still tipped together, and outside the window the hospital lights flickered against the deep blue, holding the whole quiet room in a soft, steady glow.