A Backstage Love I Han Jisung x Reader

The Visitor

I manage a small nod, my throat too tight to speak. Seeing him here, in the hospital, makes everything feel more real. This isn't just a nightmare I can wake up from. This is my reality now.

Han moves closer, pulling a chair up to the side of the bed. He sits down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving mine. "I was so worried," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I heard what happened, I... I didn't know if you were going to be okay."

Tears well up in my eyes, and I have to look away. I can't stand the thought of him being scared for me, of anyone being scared for me. "I'm sorry," I manage to choke out. "I didn't mean to... I didn't-"

"Shh," Han cuts me off gently, reaching out to take my hand. His touch is warm, comforting, and it makes the tears spill over. "You don't have to apologize. None of this is your fault."

I squeeze his hand, holding on like it's the only thing keeping me grounded. "I'm scared," I admit, my voice trembling. "I'm so scared, Han."

His grip tightens around mine, his eyes softening with understanding. "I know," he whispers. "But you're going to be okay. You're strong, and you're going to get through this. And I'm going to be here with you, every step of the way, no pun intended."

His words are like a lifeline, pulling me out of the darkness that's been threatening to swallow me whole. I don't know if I believe him-if I can really get through this-but hearing him say it makes me want to try. I let out a small chuckle in response to his accidental pun and it must have relieved him to see me smile. For the first time since I woke up, I feel a small spark of hope.

We sit in silence for a while, just holding hands, neither of us needing to say anything. The weight of everything that's happened hangs in the air between us, but so does the comfort of his presence. I don't know what's going to happen next, but I know I'm not alone. And that, at least, is something.

After a while, Han speaks again, his voice low and hesitant. "I don't want to push you, but... do you remember what happened? Do you remember the accident?"

I nod slowly, the memories flashing through my mind like a distorted film reel. "I remember bits and pieces," I say softly. "The lights, the car, the sound of the impact... It's all so blurry."

He nods, his expression somber. "Did the doctor mention the driver?" he says, his voice thick with emotion. "When I got the call, I was terrified. I thought I might lose you. But then I heard what that bastard did."

The raw honesty in his words makes my chest tighten. I've always known Han cared about me, but hearing it like this, in such a vulnerable moment, makes it hit home in a way it never has before. But even as my heart swells with affection for him, I trickle back to the realization of his words. "What do you mean? What did the driver do?"
"Y/n, it was a hit and run. The police were notified when you woke up and apparently they are on their way for questioning." He bit his tongue as if he had something to say about the matter, but didn't want to upset me further.

My heart dropped. I can't even imagine how Han is feeling right now, in fact I'm not even sure I would guess how he is feeling. "I'm sorry I scared you," I whispered, looking down at our joined hands. "I didn't mean to. I just... I was distracted. I wasn't paying attention."

"It's not your fault," he insists, his voice firm. "Don't blame yourself for this. You're only human."

Only human. The words echo in my mind, a reminder of my own fragility. I'm not invincible. None of us are. But that doesn't make this any easier to accept.

As the exhaustion starts to weigh on me again, I know I need to rest. But before I do, I have to say something that's been on my mind since he walked into the room. I reach out and grasp his hand, my voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady.

"Han... I don't know what's going to happen after this," I begin, choosing my words carefully. "But I want you to know... I care about you a lot. And I value our friendship more than anything. I just... I'm not in a place where I can think about anything more right now."

His expression falters for a moment, but he quickly masks it with a small, understanding smile. "I get it," he says softly. "And I'm okay with that. As long as you're in my life, that's enough for me."

A wave of relief washes over me, but as I watch him stand to leave, a sudden surge of need and vulnerability grips me. I reach out again, grabbing his hand more tightly, my eyes pleading. "Wait... please, can you stay?"

Han's eyes widen in surprise, and he looks down at our joined hands, then back at me. The soft concern in his gaze deepens as he processes my request. "Are you sure?" he asks gently. "I don't want to impose..."

"Yes, please," I insist, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be alone right now."

A flicker of emotion crosses his face, and he nods slowly, settling back into the chair beside my bed. He sits down, his gaze fixed on me with a mixture of care and reassurance. "Okay," he says softly. "I'll stay."

I let out a relieved sigh, feeling another small weight lift from my chest. I close my eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence beside me. It's a comfort, a tether to reality amid the confusion and fear.

For a while, we sit in silence, the only sounds being the gentle beeping of the monitor and the soft hum of the hospital. Han doesn't speak, but his presence is a steady, calming force. I'm grateful for his company, for the way he understands without needing words.

As Han sits there, holding your hand, I feel a shift in the room—a tension that wasn't there before. A soft knock on the door, and then it opens. Two uniformed officers step inside. One of them looks at you, his expression neutral but serious.

"Good to see you awake," the officer says. He looks at Han before turning back to me. "We're with the police. We just need to ask you a few questions about the accident."

 My heart begins to race, the dread building up. The room suddenly feels too small. Han's grip on my hand tightens as the officers approach.

The first officer continues, his voice calm but firm: "Can you tell us if you remember what happened before the crash? What were you doing, where were you?"

The second officer chimes in, more gently, "Were there any people or vehicles you noticed before the accident? Anything unusual?"

They exchange a quick glance, then one of them asks: "Do you remember seeing the car that hit you? Can you describe it? The make, color, anything at all?"

The first officer adds, "Did you notice if the driver was speeding, acting erratically, or if something about the vehicle seemed off before the crash?"

They wait, watching me closely. I can feel the weight of their gaze, the unspoken pressure of the questions they're asking. But everything still feels blurry in my mind, and the fragmented memories of the night continue to slip away like sand through my fingers.

"The only thing I remember is seeing the car speed away. It was dark out but I think it was a black car with a license plate. I think maybe-2096?"

The officers looked at each other and wrote down the possible plate. "Thank you for your time. We will leave you to rest now, forgive the intrusion." And with that, they left, shutting the door gently behind them.

As sleep begins to pull me under, I feel a small spark of hope. With Han here, holding my hand, I feel a bit less afraid. And maybe, just maybe, I can face whatever comes next with a little more strength, knowing that I'm not alone.

He squeezes my hand one last time, brushing a stray hair from my forehead. "Get some rest," he says gently. "I'll be here when you wake up."

As the pain begins to ebb and my exhaustion returns, I feel my eyelids growing heavy. I give Han's hand one last squeeze before allowing myself to drift off to sleep, the warmth of his presence lingering as I slip into the solace of slumber.