SEVENTEEN | SICKFICS - HURTFICS I

MinWon | Sepsis/Car Accident Part III

As Seungcheol walked away, Jeonghan stepped out of the ICU room and approached him in the hallway. His eyes were red, a mix of exhaustion and worry clouding his usually composed demeanor.

"Any change?" Seungcheol asked, his voice quiet but laden with concern.

Jeonghan shook his head. "He's still unconscious. They're stabilizing him, but they're not sure when he'll wake up."

Jeonghan sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. "We have to do something. We can't just wait around."

Seungcheol placed a hand on Jeonghan's shoulder. "We're doing everything we can, Jeonghan. Just... hang in there. We'll figure this out. And Mingyu... he's struggling, too. We have to take care of him, too."

Jeonghan's eyes softened, his worry deepening. "I just want them both to be okay. I want to fix everything."

"We will," Seungcheol said with determination. "We will."

He turned to face the ICU again. "But right now, we need to take care of Mingyu. He's not going to be any help to Wonwoo if he doesn't let himself rest."

Jeonghan nodded silently, his gaze turning back toward the glass window where Wonwoo lay.

Hang on, Wonwoo, Jeonghan thought, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Please don't leave us.

It felt like hours before Seungcheol came back to Mingyu's room. When he did, Mingyu was barely awake, his hand curled tightly around the bed rail as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I'm here," Seungcheol said quietly, standing at the door with a steady gaze. "And I've spoken with the doctors. They'll let you see him now, but only for a short time. We'll go together. You'll be okay."

Mingyu blinked, his face still pale but finally showing a glimmer of something-hope, or at least the will to fight.

Seungcheol gave him a small, encouraging smile. "Let's go, yeah?"

Seungcheol wheeled Mingyu through the sterile, quiet corridors of the hospital, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above and the distant sounds of medical staff filling the air. Mingyu's heart pounded in his chest with each turn they made, his mind fixated on the door ahead of them-the door that led to the ICU, where Wonwoo lay, still unconscious, fragile as a thread.

Mingyu's fingers gripped the armrest of the wheelchair, his knuckles turning white as if his life depended on it. His eyes were locked on the door, his thoughts a whirlwind of fear, relief, and a quiet, desperate hope. He hadn't seen Wonwoo for days. It felt like an eternity.

Seungcheol wheeled him up to the entrance, stopping just outside the room. "Remember, Mingyu, you only have a few minutes. Don't overwhelm him," Seungcheol warned, his voice low, yet firm. "He's still very weak, and you need to be careful."

Mingyu nodded absently, his gaze never leaving the door. He could already feel the rush of emotions threatening to break through.

Seungcheol opened the door, and the sterile scent of the ICU room hit Mingyu like a wave, cold and unwelcoming. The sight before him was everything he feared-Wonwoo, his boyfriend, the man he loved with all his heart, lying motionless on the bed, surrounded by tubes and machines. The only signs of life were the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, shallow and fragile. The sight of his pale, unconscious face, with the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, was enough to shatter Mingyu's control.

His breath hitched in his throat, and before Seungcheol could say another word, Mingyu was out of the chair, staggering toward the bed with an urgency that defied his body's protest.