Ineffable 𓇢𓆸 || Jakehoon

🍃 Chapter 45🍃

The night in the woods passed in an uneasy hush, the quiet broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant hoot of an owl. We set up camp in a small clearing, far from the roads and any signs of human presence. The kids have finally fallen asleep, some curled up in their parents' arms, others lying beside us with exhaustion still weighing on them. It's eerily peaceful, and for a moment, I almost forget about everything-the war, the soldiers, the constant fear. But then my eyes drift to Sunghoon, and reality comes crashing back.

He's sitting by the fire, his body angled slightly away from everyone, his face half-hidden in shadow. The flames cast a flickering light on his features, and I can't help but notice the way his shoulders slump just a little, the way he's holding himself as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. I know it's because of the wound. The bullet graze from days ago-something that should've been treated properly, but we didn't have the chance.

I've been trying not to show it, but I can feel the anxiety crawling up my spine, creeping into my chest, making my breath come faster. The wound should have healed by now, or at least scabbed over, but Sunghoon keeps saying it's nothing. He's always so strong, so resolute, but the truth is hard to ignore. I see the way his face tightens when he moves too fast or shifts his weight. And I know the infection's getting worse.

Sunghoon's stubbornness is legendary. Even now, as the others settle down, he insists on keeping watch for a while longer, scanning the darkness with his sharp eyes, as if everything depends on him. His back is to me, but I can see him wincing slightly when he moves, his breath sharp. I don't say anything at first, not wanting to add to his burden, but it's killing me to see him like this.

I wait a few moments, then I can't hold it in anymore. I get up and walk over to him, the crackle of the fire the only sound breaking the silence.

"Sunghoon," I say quietly, my voice thick with concern. "You should rest. You're pushing yourself too hard."

He doesn't turn around immediately, his gaze still fixed on the trees in front of us. But I see his shoulders relax slightly, the tension easing for just a moment. "I'm fine, Jake," he says, his voice calm, too calm. "It's just a little scratch. Nothing to worry about."

I'm not buying it. "That's not just a scratch. You're limping, Sunghoon. Your fever's been getting worse. Don't pretend like it's nothing."

Finally, he looks at me. His eyes are tired but still sharp, the usual confidence there, but there's a flicker of something else I can't quite place. Maybe fear. Maybe frustration.

"I said I'm fine," he repeats, but his voice is a little more strained this time.

I kneel beside him, my hand instinctively reaching for his. I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the fever that's still burning inside of him, despite everything. His hand feels clammy, his pulse slightly erratic. My stomach tightens.

"Sunghoon..." I whisper, my voice cracking slightly. "You're not fine. Please, let me help you. You need to rest."

He's silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, as if he's fighting something inside of him. Finally, he sighs, a deep, reluctant exhale, and lowers his gaze. "I know you're worried," he says quietly. "But I'm not going to die from a little bullet wound, Jake. I'm stronger than that."

I know he's trying to reassure me, trying to keep his usual bravado intact, but it's not enough. I can see through the cracks now-the way he's hiding the pain, the way he's trying to push through it, as if pretending it isn't there will make it go away. But it's only making it worse. And I can't stand it. Not when it's him.

"You're the strongest person I know," I say, my voice low, full of emotion. "But you don't have to carry everything alone. Not this. Not when it's this bad."

He doesn't respond at first, but after a long beat, he pulls me closer, his free hand coming up to gently brush against my cheek. His touch is soft, almost tender, and it catches me off guard. He's trying to comfort me, even though I'm the one who should be comforting him.

"I'm fine," he repeats, softer this time, though I can hear the strain in his voice. "I just need to get us through this, Jake. That's all I care about."

I can't help it. I reach out and grab his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I care about you," I say firmly. "More than anything. And I won't let you die out here. Not like this."

Sunghoon doesn't answer, but I see the way his eyes soften, the brief flicker of something in them that tells me he's not as fine as he's pretending to be. I know he's just trying to protect me from worrying, just like he always does. But I can't stand seeing him like this-so strong on the outside, yet breaking down on the inside.

The night stretches on, and I keep a close eye on him, even though I know he'll never admit how bad it really is. But I can tell. His fever is worse than before, and when he moves, there's a tremble in his hands that wasn't there before.

Eventually, I can't take it anymore. I gently pull him toward me, my hands shaking just slightly, but I don't let go. He sighs, that familiar sigh of resignation, and allows me to pull him into my chest.

"Rest," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. "Please, Sunghoon. Let me take care of you for once."

He doesn't argue. Instead, he leans into me, the weight of his body pressing against mine. I can feel the heat radiating from him, and I know it's not a good sign. But for now, all I can do is hold him.

The night passes slowly. My eyes never leave Sunghoon, watching his every movement, every slight shift of discomfort. But as he finally drifts into a restless sleep, his breathing a little more even, I find myself hoping that this, this moment of peace, will be enough to carry us through the storm that's coming.

And still, I keep my grip on his hand, my mind racing with thoughts of what might happen next, wondering how much longer I can keep him safe. But as long as he's by my side, I'll do everything I can to make sure he doesn't fall.