Limbo

And Never Being Where You Are

Literally had the worst day at work today. A few days ago, I got my first call to a labor and got to deliver the first baby of my career. The newborn was pretty sick when she was born, but we managed to get her to the hospital alive. I found out today that she didn't make it. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, even if you put everything you had into saving someone, there's nothing you can do. 

I was thinking about holding off Minho finding out about Seojun for later chapters, but I realized I needed to write this now. It's therapeutic and even though the situation I wrote for Minho is vastly different, there's similarities. So, I'm venting through this fanfic now (hope you enjoy LOL). 

And don't worry, I'm okay. I'm used to this kind of stuff at work, so it doesn't faze me so much anymore. But I did go and buy a ton of candy and I'm eating it all while I'm writing right now (I'm going to be so sick, help XD). Okay enough about me! Enjoy!

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Minho regretted opening his eyes. It had been a full day since he'd been discharged from the hospital, but it still felt like it was moments after the accident. His head was aching despite the abundance of pain killers he'd taken, and his ribs screamed at him with every inhale and exhale. It could be worse. It could be so much worse. But he also wasn't anywhere near okay - so far from it that he couldn't even fake being okay. He was stuck in the middle. Some sick, twisted version of reality.  A void between heaven and hell just for him. Limbo. He was stuck in limbo. Unable to claim he was at his worst, but unable to say he was okay. He hated this feeling. 

"Hey, hyung, are you awake?" Minho didn't even bother looking to see who was curled up beside him. Han had been there the entire night. The entire restless, sleepless night where nightmares constantly woke him up but as soon as his eyes opened he couldn't remember a single thing that happened. There was just a dread buried in his stomach, a gut-feeling that he was missing a piece of his memory. It was there, somewhere, in those nightmares, but it was hidden in his subconscious, and he didn't know how to dig it out. 

"Yeah." He whispered, wincing at the strain of it against his ribs. 

"You're due for your meds again." Han said, sitting up on his knees and leaning over the dancer. "I can go grab them for you. Maybe I should grab you something to eat too." 

"No." They'd already had that argument earlier, multiple times. He didn't want to eat. Memories of throwing up over a trash bin with Chan being the only thing keeping him from face planting in it surfaced and he shook his head, flinching at the pain. 

"Okay. Okay." Han blurted, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Just the meds then. I'll go get them. You stay here." 

Like Lee Know could do anything else but stay. 

Han scrambled off the bed, tugging half the sheets off with him. Once he untangled himself from the blankets, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving the door ajar. Minho's head ached with the little bit of light peeking through the crack and the noise of the boys getting ready for the day. They were trying to be quiet, Minho could tell, but it was still too loud. He clamped his hands over his ears and curled up into a ball, burying his face into his pillow. The bruise on his temple throbbed and blood rushed past his eardrums. He just did not feel good. He wanted to feel good though. He wanted to go to dance practice today. He was working on choreography that he was certain the boys would love but he couldn't show it to them yet. It was a surprise he'd been planning for weeks. Only Seojun knew about it. 

Seojun. Minho would have texted him and ask him if he was okay after the crash, but he couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds without feeling like his head was being cracked open. Looking at a phone screen sounded like torture. Maybe he should ask one of the members to text Seojun for him. That sounded like a good plan to him. They could complain about their misery together.