Within the tapestry of heartbreak and health challenges, Beomgyu embarks on a profound journey through life's complexities. As he traverses the maze of his own emotions, a serendipitous encounter leads Yeonjun to discover the mesmerizing symphony of...
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As Yeonjun strolled through the hospital corridors, his steps heavy with the weight of fear and desperation, he couldn't shake the gnawing anxiety that kept holding his heart in a tightening grip. Tears of anguish welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he navigated his way upstairs to Jimin's cabinet. Each step felt like an eternity, and each breath was labored with the weight of uncertainty.
His mind was racing with thoughts of Beomgyu, his heart aching at the mere possibility of losing him. Beomgyu had become a source of solace and comfort in the midst of his own turmoil, and the thought of losing that connection filled him with a sense of dread that threatened to consume him.
Finally reaching the second floor where Jimin's cabinet was located, Yeonjun's gaze fell upon at the room with the familiar number: 132. His heart skipped a beat as memories of his deceased lover flooded his mind, the pain of loss resurfacing with a raw intensity. With a trembling hand, he leaned against the wall beside the open door, his breath catching in his throat as he peered inside.
A patient was lying on the bed, their form obscured by the dim light filtering through the windows. Yeonjun's heart clenched at the sight, his mind unable to shake the haunting memories that lingered within those walls. He stood frozen in the doorway, his chest tight with a mixture of grief and fear, unsure of what to do next. His gaze was fixed on the bed where Soobin had spent his final days, a wave of memories washing over him. It was here, in this very room, where they had shared moments of profound intimacy and unbearable pain.
Every corner of the room held echoes of their love, their laughter, and their tears. The bed, where his lover had lain frail and vulnerable, bore witness to the depth of their connection—their whispered confessions, their silent embraces, and the silent prayers for a miracle that never came.
It was here that Yeonjun had held his lover's hand through the darkest hours of the night. The bed became a sanctuary and a battleground, a symbol of both their love and their loss.
As he stood in the doorway, the weight of their shared history pressed down on him, threatening to overwhelm his fragile resolve. Yet, amidst the pain and the longing, there was also a glimmer of solace—a reminder of the love that had once filled this room, and the hope that still lingered in its wake.
Standing at the threshold of Ward 132, the air seemed to thicken with memories, wrapping around him like a suffocating embrace. With a deep breath, he allowed himself to be pulled back in time, to a moment when love and laughter had filled this very room.
The soft hum of medical equipment provided a backdrop to their conversation, a reminder of the fragility of life and the preciousness of each shared moment. His lover lay in the hospital bed, a pale shadow of his former self, yet his eyes still held a spark of mischief and warmth.
Yeonjun approached the bedside, his heart heavy yet hopeful. "Hey, sleepyhead," he greeted with a soft smile, reaching out to brush a strand of blonde hair from the boy's forehead.
