SEVENTEEN | SICKFICS - HURTFICS I

JeongCheol | Appendicitis Part III

Seungcheol's chest tightened painfully as he ran his fingers through Jeonghan's hair, his heart racing, the full weight of the situation finally sinking in. What happened to him? Seungcheol thought, panic rising in his chest. Why is he like this?

It wasn't until he saw the puddle of vomit beside Jeonghan that the truth hit him. Jeonghan had been suffering alone, probably for hours or a day since he left, and Seungcheol hadn't even noticed. He hadn't noticed the calls, the missed messages, or the pain his boyfriend had been going through. Instead, he had been wrapped up in his own world, convinced that he needed to focus on his work, on his success.

Now, it was all crashing down on him, and he was left with the terrifying knowledge that his selfishness-his neglect-had brought Jeonghan to this point.

"No... no, no, no!" Seungcheol gasped, his voice rising in desperation. He tried to shake Jeonghan gently, but there was no response. The tears that had been building up in Seungcheol's chest finally spilled over, and his face crumpled with grief and guilt.

I should've been here. I should've noticed.

The guilt was suffocating. He had promised Jeonghan that he would always be there, but in reality, he had been anything but present. He had ignored the subtle signs, the small acts of care Jeonghan had shown, the quiet hints that things weren't okay.

Seungcheol's mind raced. He needed to get help. He needed to get Jeonghan to a hospital, fast. His fingers fumbled for his phone, almost dropping it in his panic, but he finally managed to dial the emergency services number, his voice trembling as he gave the details. He didn't even care how frantic or incoherent he sounded.

"Please, please... help. My boyfriend is not waking up. He's so pale... he's not breathing right. I don't know what happened to him!" Seungcheol's voice cracked as he gave them the address, before his hands went back to Jeonghan's body, shaking him again, hoping that somehow, just somehow, Jeonghan would wake up and say something, anything.

But there was nothing. No response. Only the quiet echo of Seungcheol's desperation.

Seungcheol stayed by his side, watching Jeonghan's slow, shallow breaths and holding his cold hand in his own, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours. His mind screamed at him, asking how it had come to this. How had he been so blind?

As the sound of sirens approached, Seungcheol continued to plead silently in his heart. Please wake up. Please. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me...

But Jeonghan remained still, his body cold and fragile, lost in the sea of pain he had suffered alone.

The hospital's fluorescent lights felt like a harsh spotlight on Seungcheol, his heart thumping erratically in his chest as he paced back and forth in the waiting room. He couldn't sit still, couldn't calm the storm of guilt and fear swirling inside of him. Every thought in his mind circled back to one painful, unignorable truth: I wasn't there for him.

He had been so wrapped up in his own world, so consumed by work and his own frustrations, that he hadn't seen the signs. Jeonghan had been suffering, in pain, alone-and Seungcheol hadn't noticed until it was almost too late. Why didn't I listen to him? Why didn't I take the time to see what was really going on?

The paramedics had barely had time to explain Jeonghan's critical condition before they rushed him into the ambulance, their instructions clear but detached as they worked quickly to stabilize him. Oxygen. IV fluids. They had spoken in clipped sentences, their faces grim, and all Seungcheol could do was stand there, watching Jeonghan's pale, unconscious form being carted away. His entire world had come to a screeching halt.

What if I lose him? The thought haunted him, gnawing at his insides with every passing second. He couldn't bear the weight of it.

I can't lose him. I can't.