SHADOWS OF DECEIT

Chapter 25

The world felt like it was pressing down on him, every inch of his body rebelling against even the smallest movement. Pain radiated through him—sharp, insistent, and all-consuming. Every muscle screamed in agony, and even the simple act of breathing sent a jagged ache ricocheting through his chest. 

Jeonghan's mind swam in the fog of hurt, stubborn tears sliding down his face as he clung to some semblance of control. His fists clenched involuntarily, the effort sending a fresh wave of pain coursing through him.

Somewhere in the haze, a shrill, irritatingly insistent voice cut through.

"Close your left hand."

Jeonghan grunted in response, his jaw tightening against the pain as he obeyed. Every fiber of his being resisted the motion, but he forced it anyway. The voice returned, now asking him to close his right hand.

Fuck this, he thought bitterly. If he had the strength, he'd swing at whoever was giving these commands, but his body refused to cooperate. Still, he did as he was told. Then came the next order:

"Raise your leg."

The moment he tried, Jeonghan's entire body revolted. His muscles seized, and a choked cry escaped his lips, though it barely formed into a sound. His eyes clenched tighter, tears leaking through the corners as if they, too, were betraying him. 

The pain was unbearable, and the mere attempt to comply left him trembling, gasping as though the act of staying conscious required more effort than he could muster.

Through the ringing in his ears, he could make out the frantic shuffle of feet, the muted voices around him now hurried and tinged with worry. 

A strong, rough hand enveloped his own, its warmth stark against his chilled, trembling fingers. The familiarity of that touch pulled him from the abyss, grounding him even as his body continued to protest.

"Cheollie," he rasped, the word more air than sound. His throat felt raw, his voice scraping out like shards of glass.

"Angel?" The deep voice was unmistakable, heavy with concern. Seungcheol's grip on his hand tightened, steady and unyielding.

"It hurts," Jeonghan croaked, tears spilling freely now as his defenses crumbled. The words felt like an admission of weakness, but the pain left him with no strength to care.

Seungcheol didn't say anything at first, his large hand moving to brush away the tears with a tenderness that contradicted the calluses on his fingers. His touch was gentle, careful, as though Jeonghan might break further if he wasn't.

"Angel," Seungcheol whispered again, his voice soft yet firm.

Jeonghan forced his eyes open, blinking against the sharp glare of the hospital lights. The brightness stabbed at him, and he swore under his breath.

"Too fucking bright," he muttered, his words slurring as exhaustion weighed heavily on him.

Seungcheol's brow furrowed, his worry etched deeply into his features. "Yah, stop talking. You're just making it worse for yourself," he scolded, though his tone held more affection than reprimand.

Jeonghan let out a breathless, pained laugh. "No shit, Sherlock," he shot back, his lips twitching upward in a weak attempt at a smirk.

Before Seungcheol could respond, another voice joined the conversation.

"It'd be nice if you turned down the cussing," the voice drawled.

Jeonghan's lips quirked upward again, this time in genuine amusement despite the pain. "Oh, shit," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "It must be pretty fucking serious if this bastard's here."