Chapter Text
Euijoo parks his white sedan in the employee parking lot of the call center where he works and begins the small journey inside.
When people ask about his job, he takes care to say “call center” and leave it at that. There are many reasons for this calculated, vague response. The first reason being that Euijoo works at an emergency call center, otherwise known as a PSAP (public safety answering point). That one word tends to change the entire direction of an otherwise normal conversation and, frankly, he has heard enough “I could never do that”s and “Thank you for your service”s for six lifetimes. He doesn’t do it because he thinks it’ll be easy, or because he thinks he’s some guardian angel sent from heaven; he does it because someone has to. Secondly, he doesn’t particularly enjoy anyone knowing too much about him. The way others see him, the way they imagine him– he doesn’t care. Whether they think he is a telemarketer or a customer service representative won’t change the fact that he likely will never talk to them again. It’s not that Euijoo is antisocial, he just has responsibilities far more important than his social life. He has a number of friends (in the single digits) and that is just fine with him. After all, he has Harua to worry about.
Harua is his nephew, whom he absolutely adores. He has since the day he was born when Euijoo was in his second year of high school. This adoration mostly comes from how much he loved his older sister. As a child and as a teen she was Euijoo’s entire world, and now he is her son’s. When he was in his second year of university, his sister and her husband tragically died in a car accident. His parents weren’t particularly fond of the man his sister married and, in turn, not ecstatic about Harua’s existence. So, that left him with a six-year-old Harua to raise on his own. Fueled by his love for his sister, Euijoo dropped out of college, got a job as a public safety dispatcher, and decided to live every day with a smile for his nephew.
It’s been seven years since then and Euijoo has managed to build a stable life for himself and Harua; One that requires him to get to work on time, which would happen faster if he hadn’t forgotten to put his ID card around his neck while he was still in the car. Now he’s standing right outside the door digging through his large tote bag for any sign of his ID. After pushing past his wallet, his phone, his lunch, and one of Harua’s handmade bracelets, he snatches up the lanyard holding his badge, and presses it against the censor. The light turns green and a small beep, followed by a click, meets Euijoo’s ears. He lets out a sigh of relief and opens the door with one hand while his other puts the lanyard around his neck for safekeeping.
He steps into the building and gives a polite nod to the security guard working the front desk. If he had the choice, he would much rather work out here than inside the actual dispatching room. The lobby has bright walls and bright flooring with plants and windows. It looks welcoming, but Euijoo knows that it’s a facade- a mask to hide the room of horrors behind a second locked door just feet in front of him.
“Buzz me in?” Euijoo asks, looking over his shoulder at the security guard. His ID doesn’t work on this door because the center felt like it needed an extra layer of security. To Euijoo’s surprise, apparently everyone wants to break into a dispatch call center.
The guard raises an eyebrow and huffs out a laugh. “Not so fast, EJ,” he shakes his head, beckoning Euijoo over with his index finger. “You know the drill, ID, now,” he demands.
EJ . Great. Nice to know that the security guard has picked up on the nickname given to him by some coworkers. He didn’t think “Euijoo” was particularly difficult to say, but whatever. “I’ve worked here for seven years, you can’t just buzz me in?” he asks, his tone lighthearted and playful but somewhat exasperated. Despite his griping, he holds up his badge and mimics the face he made in the photo.
“The rules don’t care about how many years you’ve worked here,” he retorts, glancing at Euijoo’s badge before pushing a button on his desk. A loud buzz rings out and the guard motions to the door. “Have a good shift.”
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After clocking in and exchanging greetings with his coworkers, Euijoo is finally able to sit down at his desk. His cheeks are already hurting from smiling, but that is a normal part of his life now. Despite the grief he felt when he lost his sister, he knew that what Harua needed most was someone strong- someone to smile. He transformed from the devoted and isolated college student he used to be, to a dependable adult. Harua likes to say that Euijoo has a smile with a gravitational pull, which proves true for the most part. Everyone in the center wants to get to know him, to be his friend, but he always politely shuts down their advances. Just because he is generally friendly doesn’t mean that he has to have a lot of friends.
He has his best friend Fuma, who works as the fire captain at Station #712, and his husband Yudai who just so happens to be a police sergeant. They’re a match made in heaven, and Euijoo is happy that they provide a small village for Harua. It is because of them that Harua has Taki to call a friend. Taki was adopted by the couple when he was five, making him only a year younger than Harua. Fuma and Yudai love telling the story of how they began to foster him and just knew he was meant to be theirs. Aside from the lovebirds, he has Yuma; his fellow dispatcher who works the swing shift right after him. Euijoo knows he can rely on Yuma to watch Harua if he ever picks up a night shift or a shift on the weekends. Truthfully, those three friends are more than enough for him because he lives to provide for Harua- to work.
Work, right, he should probably get to that if he wants to afford Harua’s allowance. Euijoo picks up his headset and turns it on, staring at the six monitors in front of him filled with all sorts of documents and buttons. They are double-stacked, effectively creating a wall in front of him in the dimly lit room. The only sufficient light is provided by the plethora of screens filling the room, which makes Euijoo realize that he probably needs to invest in blue light glasses before he ends up with serious eye issues down the road. He places the headset over his ears, adjusting the microphone so that it rests just below his mouth near his chin. Within seconds, a familiar, urgent beeping noise plays into his ears and a window pops up on his screen announcing the incoming call. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and pushes a button on the keyboard to answer.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” he questions, his tone calm and polite. He waits.
“Please help me, oh my god,” a woman screams into the phone, it is obvious that she is incredibly horrified and scared.
Euijoo is used to that. Every time he picks up the phone, he is hearing the worst moments of someone’s life. He checks the status on triangulating where the call came from- not even close. He needs more, and he can get it.
He remains calm and interrupts the woman’s sobs. “Ma’am, my name is EJ,” he begins, using his nickname because ‘Euijoo’ doesn’t usually translate well over the phone, “can you tell me what’s going on?” he pushes further.
The woman swallows on the other end of the line, trying to catch her breath from all the hyperventilating she is doing. “My baby, my baby, she’s choking- she can’t breathe!” she screams the haunting screams of a mother scared to lose her child.
“How old is your baby, ma’am?” he quizzes, trying to decide the best course of action. He checks the triangulation. Perfect, it’s done. He copies the address and dispatches an ambulance immediately, muting himself to patch into the ambulance’s radio. “Paramedic A2 dispatch to 239 Howling Street,” he said before turning his attention back to the caller.
“She’s only twelve months old,” the woman shouted, obviously growing impatient with Euijoo. She’s panicking, she has every right to be snappy with him.
Euijoo listened and nodded. He knew what to do now. “Okay, ma’am, the ambulance is on the way. While you’re waiting for them, I need you to pick your baby up and lay her face down on your forearm,” he instructed her calmly. If he began panicking more, they’d never get anything done.
He waited patiently until the woman acknowledged that she’d done as instructed. “Use your hand to support her head and neck, with her chin between your thumb and forefinger,” he continued, pausing for a moment. “Then I need you to take the heel of your hand, the hard part closest to your wrist, and hit her on the back forcefully,” he told her, checking the status of the ambulance. They were close, but not close enough.
“ Hit her ?!” she screamed at him in disbelief, “What if I hurt her?” she asked him, her voice cracking with the foreshadowing of tears.
Euijoo had dealt with enough choking infants to know that this reaction was to be expected. “Ma’am, you have to do this if you want her to live,” he urges, his words calm but holding a more stern tone. “Bruises will heal, she knows you’re trying to save her life— I’ll count for you. When I count, hit her back hard ,” he demands.
The woman on the other end of the line acknowledges his words, and Euijoo begins.
“One.”
A small thud.
“Two.”
Another.
“Three.”
A louder thud, followed by the sound of a baby crying. Euijoo can’t help but smile softly. The woman cries almost as hard as her baby.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” she sobs into the phone.
Euijoo nods as if she can see him, “You’re very welcome, miss…?” he leaves the end of his sentence a question, realizing he never got her name.
“Jocelyn, my name is Jocelyn,” she responds, catching Euijoo’s question.
He smiles again. “You should start hearing sirens any second now, Jocelyn,” he tells her and, as if on cue, he can hear the ambulance’s sirens approaching. “They’ll take a look at your daughter and make sure she is okay, you saved her life,” he adds, reassuring the frazzled mother.
On the other side of the line, he can hear the paramedics enter and Jocelyn hangs up the phone. He’d like to say he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, but that wouldn’t be truthful. Euijoo has relived this exact scenario, as well as more horrific ones, almost daily for seven years. It sounds awful to say, but there wasn’t really much that phased him anymore. He gets a hard call every once in a while where he’s too late to save the person on the line, but he simply catalogs it to do better next time. Euijoo can’t afford to let it bother him. The center provides free therapy, but he would much rather go home and see his nephew instead. Being Uncle Juju was his free and more enjoyable therapy.
He glances at the clock on his desktop. 6:17 AM. Only seventeen minutes have passed since he started his shift. With a sigh, Euijoo answers the next call.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
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Numerous calls later, it’s time for Euijoo’s lunch break. He looks forward to this break each and every day he works. He and Harua enjoy packing their lunches together every evening, they’ve been doing it since Harua was seven. He’s surprised that Harua is still just as happy to do it now that he’s thirteen, but he takes it as a sign that the boy likes spending time with him. Setting his phone on the table, Euijoo grabs his lunch container from the fridge in the break room and returns to his spot.
He clicks the sides of the container open and lifts the lid to reveal the leftovers from last night’s dinner that he packed himself. They had spaghetti, which Harua is not the fondest of. So, he decided he would take all the leftovers so they could have something better for dinner tonight. On the other side of the lid is a pink sticky note decorated with all sorts of cuteness. It is slightly stained with spaghetti sauce, but he immediately knows who it’s from. He holds the note in the light and a wide smile spreads onto his face.
“Uncle Juju! I hope you have a good day at work.
Thank you for buying me the chips I wanted.
P.S. I told Maki he could come over after school,
please don’t say no! ><
XOXO <3 Rua"
Harua hardly ever leaves notes for Euijoo. It’s usually only when he wants something, like he does now. Who is Euijoo to refuse a request written on such cute paper? Plus, he enjoys it when Maki stays with them. Harua is a bit more outspoken when he’s around. Maki and Harua met when they were eleven and have been inseparable since. The boy stays with his older brother a few houses down from them, so his coming over isn’t made into a big ordeal. Euijoo and Maki’s brother exchanged numbers to update each other on the whereabouts of their respective teenagers and nothing more. Speaking of numbers, he just knows Harua is dying to know if his note was received– so Euijoo picks up his phone and opens his messaging app. It isn’t his phone’s default app, it’s one Harua made him download because he thought it was cuter.
Uncle Juju: You’re not slick, Rua. I know all your tricks. Maki can come over. Eat well and I’ll see you later.
Before Euijoo can even put down his phone, it buzzes.
Rua: i dont know what ur talking abt, but thank u! <3
Euijoo rolls his eyes, his wide smile unwavering as he looks down at his phone. That boy was truly something. He’d never met someone with such a knack for getting their way all the time. It’s still a bit early for Harua’s lunchtime, but he hopes the boy eats well nonetheless. The Maki dilemma is now all hashed out and Euijoo can finally begin eating his leftover spaghetti. He doesn’t bother heating it up, he’d rather finish it quickly and get back to work. Work goes by slowly if you do everything but your job the entire time, so he usually shortens his lunch breaks by a decent ten-minute chunk. He’s about to take a bite of his spaghetti when his phone buzzes again; continuously this time.
He sighs and checks the caller ID before putting his fork down and clicking the big green button to answer the phone. It’s safe to say he probably won’t be finishing his spaghetti today. Once the phone is at his ear, he speaks.
“You only call me when you know I’m at work for one reason,” he states immediately, his tone a bit flat but not unfriendly. “What do you need, Yudai?” he inquires while running a hand through his hair.
The man on the other end laughs. “You know me so well, Euijoo,” Yudai replies in between laughs.
He’s always had a tendency to think things are a lot more funny than they actually are. Euijoo thinks that’s how he ended up with Fuma. The jokes Fuma makes that leave Euijoo deadpan? Yudai genuinely thinks they’re funny.
He finally stops laughing and continues. “I need the same thing as always,” he pauses and leaves a hint of elaboration in the silence, “There’s an ongoing investigation and I think you might have answered a call pertaining to it,” Yudai explains. “I’m sending Officer Asakura over to find and listen to the call,” he finishes in a sing-song tone, obviously trying to be cute.
“Okay, I’ll do what I can,” Euijoo assures him genuinely. As much as he likes to give Yudai shit, he would never jeopardize someone’s chance at justice. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he says with the expectation of ending the call.
Yudai lets out a squeal that sends shivers down Euijoo’s spine. He knows he did it on purpose too. “You’re so capable, maybe I should’ve married you!”
“Don’t even joke like that,” he shoots back while hanging up the phone.
He hangs up just as someone enters the breakroom. The man is tall, with dark, styled hair and a nervous look on his face. His eyes dart around the room like he’s scared some enemy will magically appear and ambush him. On top of that, he shifts his weight nervously which makes him stick out like a sore thumb. That’s Officer Asakura alright.
Euijoo doesn’t know Jo Asakura well because he is a man of few words. He doesn’t mind his presence, though. The man doesn’t pry, and Euijoo enjoys that about anyone. Still, it puzzles him how one person can look so uncomfortable just thinking about talking to someone when they apprehend criminals on the daily. Jo is capable and trusted by Yudai, so Euijoo trusts him too.
“Officer Asakura, you’re here for the call I suppose?” Euijoo asks him with a beaming smile, closing up his lunch and placing it back into the fridge.
The tall, handsome officer jumps slightly at the sudden utterance of words from Euijoo. “Oh– Yes– I am,” he replies, giving an awkward straight smile in return.
Brushing past the officer, Euijoo heads out into the main room and starts toward his desk. He beckons Jo over and sits in his rolling office chair. “What’s the date of the call and the caller’s name?” he asks over his shoulder.
His question is met with silence, Euijoo turns his head and raises an eyebrow in the officer’s direction. Jo is spaced out, his eyes darting around the room like he is searching for something. He’s not sure what this guy’s deal is, but he feels like he has to say something.
“Is there something I can help you find?” he probes, a little louder than before. Mission accomplished.
Jo’s head snaps back to Euijoo. “Sorry!” he blurts out, his ears tinged red with embarrassment. “I was actually wondering if Mr. Nakakita was here today?” The officer inquires.
“Yuma? Not right now, he comes in at two.”
“Oh.”
…
The two stare at each other for a moment before Euijoo slowly turns his chair back to the screen. “Date and name of caller?” he requests once again.
“January 9th, Adaline Rivers,” Jo provides.
Euijoo types away on his keyboard and within seconds a call record appears on the screen. He opens it and hands the headset to Jo so that he can listen easily. Once the officer holds the side of the headset to his ear, Euijoo clicks play and waits. He doesn’t care to know why they need this call, nor does he remember it all that well. He does what he can, and he’s not nosy. While he’s not curious about the call, he can’t help but look up at Jo to see if the call proved good or bad for whatever he and Yudai were doing. Officer Asakura’s poker face proves stronger than Euijoo’s eyes.
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The call ends and Jo sets the headset down on the desk before pulling out a notepad to jot down notes that were probably useful. The officer opens his mouth to offer the dispatcher his thanks, but before he even pronounces a syllable someone shouts across the room.
“EJ, someone’s asking for you on line four!” The voice made it seem so casual as if this were a perfectly normal occurrence.
Euijoo’s lips form a slight pout of confusion as he picks up the headset and puts it on. He clicks his mouse a few times and then presses on his keyboard to patch in.
“9-1-1, this is dispatcher Byun Euijoo, what’s the nature of your emergency?” he speaks into the microphone, unable to hide the blatant confusion in his voice.
The voice on the other end is familiar.
“Juju?!” The voice shouts in a panic. “It’s Maki, I don’t know what to do I’m so sorry,” the boy sobs, his voice trembling and barely coherent. The only reason Euijoo can understand him is because he’s heard the boy cry before– but never like this.
Euijoo’s heart immediately drops from his chest, ripping through every layer of muscle and tissue until it clatters onto the floor and keeps rolling. He is filled with suffocating dread thinking of all the scenarios that could lead up to this call. He’s never felt this way answering a call, not once. The other callers are all strangers. This one isn’t.
“Maki? You need to tell me what’s going on so I can help you,” he instructs him. He’s trying to be calm like he was with Jocelyn earlier, but he’s failing miserably. Even Jo can sense something is wrong, and he leans in to hear the call.
A loud, crackly inhale sounds over the line, followed by more sobs. “I don’t know what happened– we were just eating lunch outside and then– then Harua just,” he explains frantically. “Harua! Rua, stop it! This isn’t funny!” Maki screams over the line, gasping for air.
Harua . That is the only word Euijoo truly heard. He swallows thickly, staring at his screen with wide eyes. He watches the waveform of the current call, the small lines getting taller when Maki screams and cries. When Maki goes silent, he can hear the faint sounds of labored breathing. Before he can break free from the office and go to Harua, he has to get him into a better position first.
“Maki, what does Harua look like? What does he sound like?” Euijoo asks frantically, standing up from his chair now. The entire call center is looking at him, but he doesn’t care.
Maki sniffles. “He’s all red and– and puffy? He’s wheezing, he can’t breathe!” he shouts, voice cracking.
Euijoo’s heart shatters. He knows what this is. Anaphylaxis . He patches into an ambulance radio.
“Ambulance B1 dispatch to Sunshine City Middle School, anaphylactic reaction” he orders, his tone anything but polite.
“Dispatch, B1 is currently transporting. Unit unavailable.”
Fuck . Euijoo has no other choice. He patches into Station #712, they have a paramedic.
“712 dispatch to Sunshine City Middle School, anaphylactic reaction,” he orders once again.
“Copy, 712 en route,” Fuma’s familiar voice replies.
Euijoo feels somewhat relieved at their reply, but he doesn’t have time for that. “Maki, help is on the way, I’m transferring you to someone else. I’m on my way,” he tells him.
“No, Juju, please don’t– I’m scared–” the voice cuts off. Euijoo transferred him to a coworker who was patched in.
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Euijoo doesn’t know how, but somehow he ends up in Jo’s police car. The lights and sirens are going and Jo is dodging and weaving through traffic like his life depends on it. Probably because it does. If Jo doesn’t get him to Harua in the next five minutes, he will surely kill him. Yudai will probably help him sweep it under the rug. Probably.
As he is thrown against the walls of the car from the force of Jo’s turns, he realizes that something in this car is wet. He touches his cheek with two fingers and pulls his hand away to examine them. They’re damp. He’s so filled with adrenaline that he doesn’t realize he is crying. He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand, watching as the familiar middle school building comes into view.
Jo tears into the parking lot, taking up three spaces as he parks in the first place he can. As soon as the doors click open, Euijoo tears off towards the back of the school. He remembers Harua mentioning that he and Maki always eat lunch out there because it is peaceful and secluded. His hunch was right. He was greeted by the flashing lights of a paramedic engine and a crowd of firefighters, teachers, and students.
Teachers and students . They’re watching his beloved nephew like he’s some spectacle meanwhile Euijoo doesn’t know if he is even alive. He’s too overwhelmed with worry to let anger consume him, so he simply dashes into the crowd and shoves through to the center.
“Harua?! Harua!” he screams at the top of his lungs. He can feel his throat being torn to shreds.
He spots Harua lying lifeless on the ground with an oxygen mask on and a paramedic hovering over him.
Euijoo’s ears begin to ring, he can’t hear. He has tunnel vision. He doesn’t know whether he wants to throw up, fall to his knees, scream and cry, or all four. His instincts decide on a fifth option and he begins racing towards Harua with a speed he didn’t know he had. He makes it half the distance before being stopped in his tracks by someone infinitely stronger than him. His eyes are fixated on Harua’s limp figure.
“Byun Euijoo, let my paramedic do his job!” Fuma shouts at him, struggling to keep Euijoo in place. It’s Fuma’s station at the scene, he’d forgotten that.
Still, it’s not Euijoo in his body. It’s Uncle Juju. The one meant to protect, love, and cherish Harua in his sister’s stead. The one who is failing miserably at doing so. The one who is watching the best thing that’s ever happened to him die. No matter how much he respects Fuma, he loves Harua more .
Euijoo’s head turns to look at Fuma. His expression is void of anything but pure rage. His eyes are wide and empty. “Get the fuck off of me, Fuma,” he seethes, his voice filled with venom.
“No,” Fuma says finally. His tone is unwavering, and this sends Euijoo over the edge.
It’s no secret that Fuma could take him to the ground if he wanted to, but he isn’t that kind of person. Fuma isn’t using his full strength against him because he knows he doesn’t need to. Euijoo’s anger outweighs his rationality and he decides to use Fuma’s vulnerability against him. In one swift movement, both of Euijoo’s hands rear back before flying forward to shove Fuma with strength that could only be born from adrenaline. His plan works, and a quick flash of panic overwhelms Fuma’s features as he topples backward onto the pavement.
Euijoo takes his chance and dashes over to where Harua is, only to find that his body has been loaded up onto a stretcher. His eyes snap over to the paramedic who is looking at him with an amused grin. As the paramedic begins moving the stretcher towards the engine, he raises his eyebrows and nods his head towards his destination. He’s never been good at body language, but he knows exactly what the man is telling him to do.
His legs are the next thing to move and, before he knows it, he’s grabbing Maki’s arm and loading into the engine. Maki files in right in front of him and Euijoo sits before finally getting a good look at Harua. The boy is red and swollen. He’s covered in a rash and looks absolutely miserable despite being unconscious. Euijoo bites his lip and reaches out for Harua’s hand.
As soon as his hand connects with Harua’s, he feels a million times more relieved. He is warm. Euijoo can feel his pulse on his wrist. He’s alive. Euijoo’s shoulders fall and he leans his head against the teenager’s hand, beginning to cry. He sobs so hard that he doesn’t hear the doors shut or feel the engine begin to move.
Euijoo regains his composure after a moment and turns his attention to a horrified, silent Maki. He’s not sure why he brought the boy on the engine, but it is probably better this way anyway. He reaches out and wraps his arm around Maki’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug. This action prompts the boy to break down into sobs against his chest. Euijoo rubs his back and pets his hair, gently swaying the boy back and forth as he turns his head to look at the paramedic across from him.
He isn’t sure if they’ve just now begun mutually staring at each other or if the paramedic has been staring at him for a lot longer. Either way, Euijoo doesn’t particularly care.
The paramedic is handsome. Euijoo can’t quite tell how tall he is because he’s only seen him twice, once squatting and once at a distance. His features are unmistakable though. His sharp eyes and intense gaze. He’s intimidating. Well, that is, until he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, one side of his mouth lifting up into a smirk. Euijoo isn’t sure what’s so funny about him holding a thirteen-year-old boy who just witnessed his best friend almost die.
“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” the paramedic begins, Euijoo makes a note to stop wearing his thoughts on his face, “Well I guess I kind of am. It’s not every day you see a guy knock a fire captain on his ass to get to his kid,” he snorts.
Euijoo doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays silent. He’ll have to apologize to Fuma later.
The man’s smirk turns into a smile as he leans forward and rests his arms on his knees, looking up at Euijoo with a small twinkle in his eye. “I didn’t even know the school had time to contact you, I guess it’s true that parents have superpowers,” his lips parted slightly as he looked between Euijoo’s eyes.
“They didn’t,” Euijoo responds, right hand still rubbing Maki’s back as the boy clung to him. His left is still holding Harua’s. “I knew because I’m the one who sent you there,” he states. He wants to be half as friendly as the paramedic, but this whole ordeal has taken a toll on his mood.
“What?” he raises an eyebrow, his face contorting as he thinks. His eyebrows scrunch up and he has a look on his face like he’s just stuck his hand in vomit.
If Euijoo weren’t so exhausted, he would’ve laughed. The man in front of him is so expressive that it’s charming in an odd way.
Instead, he offers him an actual explanation. “I work for dispatch, Byun Euijoo,” he tells him, adding, “You’ve probably heard Fuma mention me.”
The dark-haired man thinks for a moment before his eyes widen in shock. “ You’re Euijoo?”
Euijoo offers him a nod. The blatant surprise on the paramedic’s face is telling of something, but he isn’t sure what. He takes it as a sign that Fuma has been talking about him way more than he should be. He momentarily wonders how much this eccentric and smug paramedic knows.
“Damn, Captain Murata’s been holding out on me,” he huffs, his tongue swiping across the inside of his cheek, pushing it outward, “I’m Nicholas,” he tells him as he extends his hand across Harua for a handshake.
Both of Euijoo’s hands are currently occupied by two teenage boys and he isn’t keen on letting go of either one. Luckily, he doesn’t have to because the engine stops and the back doors open to reveal the entrance to the emergency room. He instantly stands up and helps Maki out of the engine, walking inside alongside the stretcher carrying his nephew. Nicholas is now a strange, brief memory. He can focus on Harua now. No more interruptions—
“Euijoo!” Nicholas’s voice calls out from the automatic doors of the ER.
Euijoo turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow.
Nicholas pauses, his face twitching like he’s trying to say something. He blinks rapidly and has a faint look of frustration on his face, then embarrassment. “F-fire ant,” he shouts in a higher-pitched voice than he used previously, “The kid with the dimples said he saw a fire ant, that’s probably what caused the reaction.”
The dispatcher shoots him an awkward smile, the kind where his eyes are somewhat concerned as he smiles. Then, he nods and follows the doctors further into the ER.
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Hours later, Euijoo has finally settled the affairs with his nephew. The doctors decided to keep him overnight and monitor him thanks to Euijoo’s frightful insistence. Now, Euijoo is making his way back to the room they assigned them, where Harua and Maki are waiting for him. He’s running through his mental to-do list as he makes his way down the hall.
Call Maki’s brother? Check. He’ll be here to pick the teen up in a few hours.
Answer the worried texts from Yudai? Check. The man was probably going to appear out of thin air soon.
Find coverage for his next three shifts? Check. Yuma is a godsend.
He’s certain there is something he’s forgetting, but he’d much rather spend his time doting on Harua than trying to think of whatever it is.
Euijoo rounds the corner and takes a few more steps before arriving at the door to Harua’s hospital room. He walks inside and looks at the bed instantly, a wide smile playing on his lips. Harua has scooted over to make room for Maki, who now lies right next to him on his side. The two are scrolling on Maki’s phone and giggling together. Maki seems to have returned to his normal self now that Harua is awake, which fills Euijoo with relief. Not as much relief as seeing his nephew safe and sound, looking happy despite the day he had.
“How’re you feeling, Rua?” Euijoo asks, brushing the boy’s hair back with his palm.
Harua’s eyes close and his face scrunches up at Euijoo’s actions, an automatic response. “Better, I feel kind of nervous, though,” he explains, looking up at his uncle with a puffed-out left cheek, his signature pout.
He nods, leaning down awkwardly to give the boy a half-hug. “That’s normal,” he reassures him, resting his cheek on the teen’s head momentarily. “I love you, Harua,” Euijoo whispers.
“Me too, Uncle Juju,” Harua grins, his head turning to the door of his room where he spots something that makes him more excited than his uncle. “Taki!” he gasps, a big smile on his face.
Euijoo’s head turns. Sure enough, Taki is running into the room with Yudai and Fuma close behind. The air suddenly leaves his lungs for a moment. He completely forgot that just hours prior he knocked Fuma right onto his ass. Yudai has likely heard about it already.
“Harua! Did you know Juju shoved my dad onto the ground this afternoon?” Taki asks his friend in disbelief. Looks like someone has been eavesdropping on his parents’ conversations.
There is a beat of dead silence in the room before Harua bursts out laughing. He’s looking between Euijoo and Fuma. Each time he lays eyes on one of them, he laughs harder.
Once he regains his composure, Harua clears his throat. “Uncle Juju, tell him you’re sorry,” he instructs, his lips quivering with the threat of laughter.
Euijoo closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. “I’m sorry, Fuma,” he begins, his tone genuine despite the joking air in the room, “I seriously don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s fine, Juju, that’s what parents do,” Fuma reassures him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close. He uses his knuckle to ruffle Euijoo’s hair.
Yudai pulls Taki to his chest from behind, swaying back and forth with his child, and, unable to stay silent any longer, blurts out: “Fuma says you shove like an elementary schooler.”
Like father, like son. Yudai and Taki are always instigating situations to watch the chaos unfold. Another moment of silence fills the room before everyone erupts into laughter. Harua is leaning on Maki, laughing so hard he can barely breathe while Maki leans backward and holds his stomach. Fuma is squeezing Euijoo tighter while both of them double over in sync. Taki looks up at his father, who laughs down at him and pinches his cheek lovingly.
Euijoo is so enveloped in the symphony of laughter from his makeshift family that all of his worries seem to fade away. He doesn’t need anything but this, these people, their laughter; their love. Laughter-induced tears fill his eyes and gasps of breath drown out all other sounds. No one in the lively room notices the dark-haired man idling just outside the door with a get-well-soon balloon. Nor do they see his sharp eyes soften at the scene before he smiles and walks away.