ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴛᴀɪɴꜱ| ateez

✭𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗✭

- WOOYOUNG-

Awakening to the sterile white of hospital walls and the steady beeping of machines monitoring my vitals, a wave of pain washed over me, grounding me in reality. A soft grunt escaped me as I blinked open my eyes, the details of the room coming into focus. Beside me, San's form was slumped in a chair, exhaustion etched into his features even in sleep, our hands still joined.

I took a shaky breath, relief mixing with the remnants of fear as the memories of the attack flooded back. Jihoon had been caught; the immediate danger had passed. The peace of the room was a stark contrast to the chaos of before, and I welcomed it like a balm to my soul.

Gently, I squeezed San's hand, the movement slight but filled with the need to see his eyes open, to confirm that the nightmare was over, that we were safe. It was time for him to wake from the vigil he had kept by my side.

As I applied a gentle pressure to San's hand again, his fingers stirred, gripping mine reflexively. His eyes fluttered open, weariness battling with the alertness that snapped into place when he saw me awake. A flood of emotions seemed to wash over him, relief, joy, and the remnants of fear that had surely plagued him as he watched over me.

"Hey," I whispered, my voice hoarse, the single word an anchor thrown between us in the vast sea of medical apparatus that surrounded my bed.

San's relief was palpable as he leaned in, his hands tenderly framing my face. He kissed me, each one a soft echo of his concern, a silent testament to the vigil he had kept. His murmurs were a warm litany against my skin, words woven with the threads of his worry and love.

Lifting a hand weakly, I ran my fingers through his hair, a gesture of comfort as much for him as for me. When his lips met mine in a gentle kiss, it was a seal over our shared fears, a reassurance that we were still here, still us.

"You're awake. I was so worried," he whispered, his voice a soft hush of awe and disbelief. "How are you feeling?"

The question hung between us, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. "Tired," I admitted, "but it's good to see you." My voice was a mere thread of sound, but it carried the depth of my gratitude for his presence, for the steadfastness with which he had held onto hope, onto me.

San's eyes searched mine, looking for signs of the pain I was undoubtedly under, for the strength he knew I possessed even as I lay vulnerable in the hospital bed. "Tired, but mostly relieved," I elaborated, wanting to ease the worry that creased his brow.

The room was quiet except for our soft exchanges and the occasional beep from the machines. It was a sanctuary after the tempest, the stillness almost as jarring as the violence that had preceded it.

"You don't know how glad I am to hear that," he replied, his thumb caressing my cheek, a gesture that anchored me back to the moment, to the reality that we had survived, that we were together.

The nurse returned, her presence a gentle intrusion as she went about checking my vitals and administering pain medication. She offered us a smile, her eyes reflecting a professional warmth, before she left as quietly as she had entered.

The twins, the center of our world, were my first coherent thought, their safety a priority over my own well-being. "How are the twins? They're so small, and their cries..." I trailed off, the memory of their frightened wails still echoing in my mind.