Bin had been unconscious for three days, still lying in his hospital bed. Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Lino made daily visits, lingering outside the hospital, hoping for good news. Chan did the same, though he avoided coming by in the mornings—he didn't want to be seen in his current state, so vulnerable. Every day, Chan left notes for Bin in case he woke up, detailing where he was going, what Bin should eat or avoid, and gentle reminders of what he should do once he regained consciousness. Chan wanted Bin to know he'd been there, by his side all along.
On the third day, as the sun began to set and the moon crept into view, Chan was at work, and the others waited outside, staring at the lit hospital and watching people come and go.
"It's been three days.." Seungmin murmured, rubbing his forehead. Hyunjin frowned and glanced at the others, "What if.. something happened to him?"
"No, nothing happened to him. Stay positive," Lino replied firmly, his gaze shifting away. Even he, who rarely showed his emotions, was visibly affected. Seungmin and Hyunjin exchanged worried looks, sensing just how serious the situation was if Lino was showing this much.
Just then, Lino's phone buzzed in his pocket, and the others quickly looked at him. "Hyung, answer it! What if it's the hospital?" Seungmin urged, tugging at his sleeve. Lino quickly answered.
"Uh, hello..?"
"Is this Lee Minho?"
"Yes, speaking."
"Are you a guardian for Seo Changbin?"
"Yes, I am."
"He's awake now. You're welcome to come in and visit—"
Lino shot up from his seat, nearly shouting, "Really?!"
The doctor flinched at the outburst, but Lino quickly thanked him and ended the call. Turning to the others, he beamed, "He's awake."
In an instant, the three of them dashed inside, shoving through the crowd to reach the elevator. They watched the floor numbers climb impatiently.
Bin slowly opened his eyes, feeling a dull ache in his side where he'd been shot. He squinted at the bright overhead lights, turning his head away with a groan. Doctors hurried over, instructing him not to move. When they asked how he was, he reassured them he was fine, just sore.
"That's great to hear. You woke up fairly quickly, which shows you're healing well! Just rest here for a few more days—or maybe weeks—and you'll be good as new," the doctor assured him, giving his shoulder a comforting pat. Bin nodded, watching as the doctor left the room. He glanced over to the side table and spotted his phone along with a stack of notes.
Carefully reaching out, Bin picked up the notes, reading through each one.
A tear gathered in Bin's eyes as he read the notes—each one written by Chan. He couldn't believe how caring, how genuinely thoughtful Chan was.
He set the notes gently back on the table, and picked up his phone to call Chan.
Meanwhile, Chan was finishing off the last of those responsible for Bin's injuries in a dark alleyway, his face shadowed with a cold, detached glare. As he let the man slump to the ground, Chan reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. A guard stepped forward to light it, aware that even the slightest mistake could end badly in Chan's current state. Chan took one drag, but his phone buzzed in his pocket, stopping him mid-thought. He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot, hesitating when he saw the caller ID; Bin.
"Bin..?" he thought, eyes widening in shock.
He answered, holding the phone to his ear with a faint tremor in his hand.
