𝐇𝐢 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐚! ❣︎ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐨 ❣︎

Hate knitted with sorrows

The frantic rush of hospital lights blurred together as Junhui raced down the sterile hallways, his chest tight with fear. His heart pounded louder than his footsteps as he pushed through the doors, searching for answers.

"Where’s Minghao?" Junhui demanded breathlessly, his voice shaking.

Vernon, standing by the door, exchanged a grave look with Seungkwan. Seungkwan’s eyes were red, tears silently streaming down his face as he stared at the window of the ICU. Junhui’s breath caught in his throat when he followed Seungkwan’s gaze.

There, in the small room, was their daughter—tiny, fragile, and struggling to breathe. Her chest rose and fell with a labored rhythm, tubes and wires connecting her to the machines that were keeping her alive. Junhui’s world tilted, the floor beneath him feeling as if it had given way. He staggered, clutching the wall for support, his eyes locked on the sight of his baby girl fighting for every breath.

Vernon’s hand landed on his shoulder, but Junhui could barely register the comfort. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, his heart shattering as he took in the image of his child in such a state. She was barely here, and yet already clinging to life with every ounce of her being. Junhui's knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, unable to bear the weight of what he was seeing.

But he couldn’t fall apart—not yet. Minghao. He had to see Minghao.

With trembling legs, Junhui rose and made his way to Minghao’s room, his soul feeling torn between two places—the love of his life and the fragile life they had brought into this world.

As he entered the room, Minghao stirred, slowly waking from the haze of exhaustion and pain. His voice was soft, still groggy from the medication. "Junnie… where’s our—"

But before he could finish, Junhui was at his side, pulling him into a tight embrace. Tears, hot and relentless, streamed down his face, soaking into Minghao’s hospital gown as he clung to him like a lifeline.

Minghao, confused by Junhui’s silence, pulled back slightly, searching his face for answers. His heart twisted in fear as he saw the pain etched into Junhui’s features. “Jun… where is she? Where’s our daughter?”

Junhui couldn’t answer, his throat constricting with grief. Instead, he helped Minghao sit up, steadying him as they slowly made their way to the ICU window.

Minghao’s breath hitched as his eyes landed on their newborn, tiny and fragile in the incubator, struggling for life. The sight of the wires, the machines, the labored breaths—it was too much. His knees gave out, and he would have collapsed if Junhui hadn’t caught him, holding him tightly as Minghao sobbed into his chest.

"No…" Minghao whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “No… this can’t be happening. Why… why her? Why our child?”

Junhui held him tighter, his own tears falling as he tried to soothe Minghao, but there were no words for this kind of pain.

Suddenly, Minghao pushed away from Junhui, his face twisted with anguish. “This is all my fault,” he choked out, his voice thick with regret. “I should never have… I never should have loved you, Jun. I never should have married you.”

Junhui’s heart shattered at Minghao’s words, but he didn’t interrupt. He could see the pain speaking through Minghao, but it didn’t lessen the hurt.

“I regret everything!” Minghao continued, his voice breaking. “I regret loving you… I regret marrying you. And I regret this…” His hand went to his stomach, still swollen from the pregnancy. “I regret giving birth to her.”

Junhui gasped, his tears coming harder now, but he couldn’t find it in himself to stop Minghao. He knew the pain of seeing their daughter like this was too great, too raw, for either of them to process.

“I wanted to protect her,” Minghao sobbed, trying to push past Junhui to reach the ICU door. “I wanted her to be safe. How could we let this happen?”

Junhui pulled Minghao back, gently but firmly, stopping him from entering the room. Minghao collapsed against him, his body wracked with sobs as they both sank to the floor outside the ICU, holding each other as if they might break apart at any moment.

“It’s not your fault,” Junhui whispered through his own tears. “None of this is your fault.”

But Minghao shook his head, too deep in his grief to hear. “I hate you… I hate myself for loving you. I hate that we did this.”

Junhui couldn’t stop his own sobs now, the weight of Minghao’s words crushing him. But he knew, deep down, that this wasn’t truly what Minghao felt. It was the pain, the helplessness, the fear. And in that moment, all they could do was cry together, hearts broken, with their daughter’s fragile breaths echoing in the distance.

--
Tbh it's not that angsty.