Wooyoung's life is abruptly transformed when a devastating car accident, caused by his reckless ex-boyfriend driving under the influence, leaves him with severe spinal injuries. The accident not only confines him to a wheelchair but also shatters hi...
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The sterile scent of the hospital halls clung to the air as I walked toward Wooyoung's room, each step bringing me closer to the next chapter of his recovery. I wasn't sure what to expect when I saw him today, but I knew that taking him back to his apartment would be a significant, though difficult, first step. The weight of his situation was something I couldn't fully comprehend. Losing his ability to walk had torn apart the life he once knew, and his quiet withdrawal spoke volumes about the pain and betrayal he was harboring.
Whoever caused the accident—whoever had hurt him—had left scars that ran far deeper than just the physical. In his eyes, behind the mask of silence, was a well of sadness, hurt, and something I couldn't quite place—betrayal. It was clear that someone important had played a part in this, though Wooyoung hadn't openly talked about it yet. I wasn't sure how to approach him, how to ease his pain, but I knew I had to try. If nothing else, I could be there, a steady presence as he returned to the apartment that held so many difficult memories.
As I stepped into the room, my breath caught at the sight of him sitting by the window again. He was quiet and distant, his back to me, fingers pressing hard into his thighs. It was almost as if he was trying to feel something, anything, through the numbness, attempting to bring himself a kind of pain he could control. The scene felt heavy, like a moment frozen in time, each detail filled with tension.
He must have heard my footsteps, because without turning fully around, he shifted slightly and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking onto mine. His expression was neutral, guarded, as if he wasn't sure whether to let me in or to keep building the walls he had so carefully constructed. I took a deep breath, feeling the tension thicken in the room.
"Hey," I greeted softly, trying to keep my tone light but understanding the gravity of the moment. "You ready to go home?"
He didn't respond immediately, just gave a small nod and turned his head back toward the window. I could see his fingers relax, no longer pressing into his thighs, though his grip on the edge of the blanket tightened instead. The struggle inside him was palpable.
I walked over slowly, trying not to intrude too much on his space, but close enough that he knew I was there. "We'll take it one step at a time," I added, wanting to assure him that I wasn't rushing anything. "We'll get you settled in, make sure you're comfortable."
Finally, he spoke, though his voice was barely a whisper. "I don't even know if home feels like home anymore."
The sadness in his words cut through me, but I couldn't let it show. I had to be strong for him. "That's okay," I said gently. "We'll work on that. It might not feel like home today, but we'll figure it out together. And you don't have to face it alone."
Wooyoung looked down at his hands, his grip on the blanket loosening slightly. He didn't say anything more, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, if only just a little. I knew this was going to be a long process—emotionally and physically—but the first step was getting him out of this hospital and back to his own space. Maybe there, with time, he could begin to heal.
