RARE MATE

Holding on

The medical room was a quiet, hygienic place, filled with the soft hum of machines and the rhythmic beeping of monitors.

Soonyoung sat by Seokmin’s bedside, his eyes never leaving his mate’s face.

Time seemed to stretch and twist, each minute dragging on endlessly as he watched the slow rise and fall of Seokmin’s chest. Every breath was a small victory, every heartbeat a reminder that Seokmin was still here, still fighting.

Soonyoung had always known that Seokmin was strong, but seeing him now, so fragile and vulnerable, shook him to his core.

He couldn’t stop replaying the events of the day in his mind, the images of the fire, the smoke, and Seokmin’s unconscious body, all burned into his memory.

His friends had tried to get him to leave, to take a break, but Soonyoung refused.

He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Seokmin’s side, even for a moment. What if something happened? What if Seokmin needed him? The idea of not being there when Seokmin woke up was unbearable.

The hours melded into a blur of worry and exhaustion.

Soonyoung’s body ached, his muscles stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, but he didn’t care.

He kept his hand wrapped around Seokmin’s, holding on as if his touch alone could connect Seokmin to this world.

Mingyu and Minghao had stayed with him for as long as they could, but eventually, they had to leave, promising to return in the morning.

Jeonghan had left too, but not before making Soonyoung promise to call if there was any change in Seokmin’s condition.

Now, it was just Soonyoung and Seokmin, alone in the dim light of the medical room.

The doctors had come and gone, checking on Seokmin’s vitals, and adjusting his medications, but they had little to say. The next 24 hours were still critical, they reminded Soonyoung, and all they could do was wait.

Soonyoung hated waiting. He hated feeling so powerless, so helpless. But more than anything, he hated the fear that tormented at his heart, the fear that Seokmin might not make it through the night.

“Princess,” Soonyoung whispered, his voice hoarse and croaky from hours of silence. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay? So you have to keep fighting. You have to come back to me.”

His voice broke, and he tightened his grip on Seokmin’s hand, pressing it against his forehead as tears welled up in his eyes. “I can’t lose you,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “I need you, Princess. I need you more than anything. So please… please don’t leave me.”

The steady beeping of the heart monitor was his only answer, and Soonyoung’s heart clenched with fear. He had never felt so scared, so utterly lost.

Seokmin was his light, his joy, the person who made everything better, and the thought of a life without him was too much to bear, unacceptable and unendurable.

Hours passed, and the night grew, but Soonyoung remained at Seokmin’s side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but refusing to close. He couldn’t sleep, not when Seokmin was lying there, fighting for every breath.

As dawn approached, the first rays of sunlight began to filter through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. Soonyoung’s head was resting on the edge of the bed, his hand still holding Seokmin’s, his body too exhausted to stay upright.

It was then that he felt it—a faint, almost indistinguishable squeeze of his hand. Soonyoung’s eyes snapped open, his heart leaping into his throat as he lifted his head to look at Seokmin.