Lovesick Mafias-sequel to obsessive mafias-SEVENTEEN FF

Strangers

The soft click of the door closing echoed in the quiet hallway as Seungkwan gently shut it, ensuring that Y/N remained undisturbed in her peaceful sleep. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, the weight momentarily lifting. He was well aware that building a place for himself in her heart needed patience, and he was determined to take these baby steps until he built a permanent home in her heart.

He was at least glad that she wasn't as hostile towards him as he initially thought, though there were moments she maintained a distance not letting anyone in. he understood that. The trauma and the pain that they caused her were not something that could be erased in a day or two. But he was determined to be her anchor in the turbulent sea. He knew healing required time, and for her, he was ready to gamble eternity.

He had to know the subtle balance between giving her space and being present, no matter how resilient she was. Taking a deep sigh, his hand slowly lifted off the knob and he turned around.

His steps slowed to a sudden stop. Seungcheol stood in the middle of the hallway—looking disheveled and unsteady on his feet. The faint scent of alcohol clung to him like a heavy cloak. His one hand was on the rail and he almost stumbled.

A stark combination from his usual composed self. His usually well-groomed hair was tousled and unruly, strands falling across his forehead in a way that mirrored the disarray of his thoughts. The tie that was once neatly knotted now hung loosely around his neck, the normally crisp edges of the fabric softened by the looseness of its knot.

The coat was conspicuously missing he usually wear.

Deep lines etched across his forehead and around his eyes, and the weariness lingered beneath the surface. His gaze, usually sharp and focused, carried a hint of vulnerability.

Seungkwan's eyes widened with concern, and he quickened his pace. "Hyung, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with worry as Seungcheol looked up with hooded and red eyes and gave a comforting smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"K-Kwan," he slurred drunkenly- eyes barely focusing.

"Is...Is she in? I need to... I need to give her this." Seungcheol raised his arm and waved the white chrysanthemum flowers in his hands. His lips twisted as he grinned, eyes squinting and Seungkwan could see the dried tears on his cheeks. His brows narrowed, or was it just his imagination?

Seungkwan gulped and carefully grabbed Seungcheol by the arm and steadied him. Keeping one hand on his shoulders, he hissed at the muscular man. He was heavy, a lot.

"She is asleep right now. Why not give her this in the morning?" he said wondering why he brought Cysanthemums for Y/N, and white on top, that was only given at funerals. If he wanted he should've brought roses or tulips. But there was nothing that could tell how his mind worked. "Here, lean on me." He helped the elderly.

Seungcheol pushed Seungkwan clumsily, stumbled a step back, and shook his head and the flowers in his hand. A pout on his lips as his drowsy eyes looked at him.

"Nope..." he giggled as his misty-red eyes looked longingly at the closed door. "She... she needs to know." His voice was heavy and deep, Seungkwan had never seen him like this. Did something happen? Did one of the meetings go wrong?

Seungkwan rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the arm.

"All right, all right, here, lean on me," he insisted, concern etched across his features. He could feel the instability in Seungcheol's posture as he tried to keep himself upright. "We'll wake her up then, she seemed tired, but if you insist then- "

Seungcheol looked wide-eyed at him, glistening with unshed tears. "She is sleeping...? But..."

"How about you change your clothes and drink some water and we'll come back later, huh?"