ONESHOTS || MEANIE ● WONMIN

|bitten|

"Wonwoo, wake up. Don't you dare close your eyes on me."

"Mingyu, dammit, would you stop nagging? My ears are ringing."

Mingyu wore a weary smile as he listened to his friend's annoyed rebuttal, though it was strained, barely masking the weight of exhaustion in his voice.

"Glad you still have the energy to be pissed at me," Mingyu said softly, his eyes never leaving Wonwoo's face. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but feel a small spark of relief. Wonwoo was still here. Still fighting.

"Even in my death Mingyu, I would still be pissed at you."

Mingyu didn't say anything in response. His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a deep, unspoken sadness.

Wonwoo noticed the silence. He turned his head slowly, blinking a few times as if the effort was too much. His eyes met Mingyu's, and in that moment, he saw something he hadn't expected—something that made his chest tighten in his already-weakened state. Mingyu looked... broken. Not just physically drained, but emotionally spent. His shoulders slumped, and there was a hollow look in his eyes.

"Sorry, Mingyu. I was just kidding," Wonwoo muttered, his voice quiet, and a little softer than before.

Mingyu remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost a whisper.

"You know I don't like jokes like that. Especially not now."

Wonwoo sighed. He wanted to respond, maybe crack another joke, but the energy it took to form words was draining him. Instead, he shifted slightly, trying to meet Mingyu's eyes with what little strength he had left.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. So... how about showing me that smile, huh?"

Mingyu's lips twitched upward, the smallest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. It was weak, almost fragile, but it was there. However, the smile didn't last long. As he glanced down at Wonwoo's wound, the reality of the situation hit him again. Blood was still pooling steadily from the deep gash in his friend's side, staining the makeshift bandages that Mingyu had applied earlier. It was bad. Worse than he'd let himself admit.

"Wonwoo, are you okay?"

Wonwoo curled up on the floor, his body trembling as he instinctively held his side, trying to stop any more blood from escaping his already frail body. His face was contorted in pain, and despite his efforts, the blood continued to seep through the bandages, staining his shirt and the floor beneath him.

"I'm fine," he muttered, his voice hoarse, though it was clear he was lying. "I guess the stitches just opened up again."

Mingyu was beside him in an instant, panic flashing in his eyes. He lifted Wonwoo's shirt gently, trying to assess the damage. As soon as he saw the wound, his stomach dropped. The deep, gaping injury was worse than before, the edges raw and swollen, and blood was still pouring out in steady streams. Mingyu's breath caught in his throat, and before he could stop himself, tears began to well up in his eyes.

"Don't cry, Mingyu. That's not gonna help." Wonwoo's voice was weak but firm, a slight bitterness laced with the usual annoyance. His hand reached up slowly, trembling, and gently cupped Mingyu's face.

Mingyu blinked rapidly, his chest tightening as the tears fell freely. He leaned into Wonwoo's touch, but the guilt was unbearable.

"Your flesh just keeps rotting, Wonwoo," Mingyu whispered, his voice cracking as he looked at the worsening wound. "Look how bad it's getting."

Wonwoo let out a dry, pained chuckle, the sound almost more like a cough. He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he searches for Mingyu's wrist, and with surprising strength, he pulls Mingyu's hand away from his shirt, the gesture calm but final.