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Yeon Sieun doesn't leave the hospital for a week. How can he? His whole world is here.
He hasn't breathed right since he left. Now that he's back, it's only right that he stays by his side, for as long as he can.
They've been given another chance, haven't they?
Juntae tries to cover for him as much as he can, marking his attendance on every class sheet he can get his hands on. Gotak makes loud, off-handed remarks about how Sieun keeps having inconveniently-timed stomachaches — he bangs on empty stall doors to prove his point, grinning sheepishly back at Sieun's teachers.
"Mianhaeyo, it seems he's still stuck inside. I'll be sure to get him to see you when he's better."
Juntae holds a hand to his mouth, stifling huffs as the locked doors rattle. He tries to groan to make it realistic. Gotak gives the door a final, berating whack.
Baku, on the other hand, reaffirms on the phone that yes, Sieun is under him for absolutely rigorous, physical training. Day and night. Yes, Mrs Yeon, that's right. He's under the basketball club now, after all. He has to prove his worth. He, Baku, captain of the basketball club will do his absolute best to keep him on track. Don't worry about him, ma'am.
They'll take care of him.
Sieun steps forward. He doesn't dare take his eyes off him.
“That’s awesome.”
It’s only natural when Suho's unerring cheeriness wraps itself back around his heart again, like warm honey. Sieun'd always thought it'd be too much for him. Too messy, too sticky, too sweet — something he couldn’t have. Something he didn’t deserve. He's glad to get it wrong again.
Tears still threaten to overwhelm the corners of his eyes. He blinks them away, hard and quick. You missed so much, Suho-ya. They’re my friends. They didn’t replace you. Don’t think that. I’m sorry I fought again. I want to tell you everything. Did time pass for you?
Do you still remember me?
…Are we still friends?
He can’t swallow down the hard lump in his throat. He’ll choke on it if he tries to speak.
Suho seems to watch his eyes, studying his face. He feels so far away.
Sieun’s voice can't find the right words again.
I missed you.
“You don’t have to say it, Sieun-ya.” Suho glances away, back to the trees. "What did I miss?"
Sieun sniffles, loudly. He can't help it. He brushes the tears off his cheek with a rough swipe, using the back of his hand.
Suho's gaze flickers back up to Sieun. His eyes look panicked. "Oh, shibal. Don't cry — I didn't — I didn't mean to. I was thinking about what to say, and I thought it'd be cool. Like a movie, y'know?"
He looks away from Sieun again, shifting in his seat.
Suho’s still too far away.
It felt like hearing his mom’s voice drifting in and out of focus — in and out, in and out. You should’ve talked to me, Sieun-ah… I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. In his dreams, Sieun reaches his hand out. He never quite reaches her.
The sun’d returned, but Sieun couldn’t feel it. There’s glass between them now. He’s scared to find out how thick it is.
Suho’d brought light into his life. He’d warmed everything and everyone around him – a guardian angel, of sorts. He’d made him feel at home for the first time in his life. Sieun thought he’d lost all of that. He thought he’d lost him for good.
He sniffles, again.
Suho, I’m sorry I was late again.
He’d thought their last words would be a mess of poorly hidden lies. Barely looking the other in the eye, and always just a little too late. If only he’d talked to him — if only he’d found him faster — if only he’d tried harder.
Look at him, Suho. Do you see him? Please don’t look away. It’s been so cold.
He tenses up, blinking again, digging his nails into his palms. He never wanted to keep anything away from him again. He refused.
He takes a breath, steadying himself.
"Yah, Ahn Suho!" Sieun raises his voice, and it rings throughout the courtyard. "Listen up, alright?"
He pauses, taking a deep breath, gathering himself. He keeps his eyes trained on the way his old jacket sits on Suho’s shoulder.
"Ahn Suho." Sieun stands straight, and his voice feels too loud for his own body. “I missed you. Don’t do something stupid like that again. Please."
The yelling leaves his throat hoarse. He bends over, hands on his knees, panting, and swallowing down the dryness. He still can’t look him in the eye.
“Hah, idiot, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?” The incredulity in Suho’s voice melts the tension in the air, like his words always do.
Sieun feels the sun on him now. His cheeks burn under the heat, but he doesn’t care.
Baku whoops in the background. He's cut-off midway by Gotak and Juntae, who yank his arms to pull him away. Gotak hisses under his breath — Are you dumb? Give them some space. Juntae simply nods affirmatively, linking his arm tighter around Baku's.
Suho eyes the duo as they wrestle the other away, gaze slowly shifting to check for anyone else who'd noticed. A few people glance their way, and a mother drags her child down the pavement a little faster.
He slowly turns back to Sieun, nudging his chin at Sieun for an explanation.
"Yah, Sieun-ya, did I wake up in the wrong universe?"
Sieun takes a breath, chest heaving as he stands up straight again, staring for a moment longer. Then he breaks into a soft grin, eyes crinkling. He stumbles forward, grabbing Suho's chair for support.
"Yah — hey, hey, hey!" Suho looks down on Sieun, arms hovering awkwardly above him.
"You came back." Sieun murmurs into Suho's lap, head bowed. He kneels there.
Eventually, Suho rests his arms, sinking a hand into soft, sweaty hair — slowly ruffling it.
"You're a psycho, you know that?"
Sieun hums quietly, resting his cheek against his arm, knees muddied in the grass.