The All-Rounder || Karina X Male Reader

14. No Looking Back.

The faint sound of distant voices pulled Jaeyoung from the abyss. He felt hands on him—strong but careful—gently turning him onto his side. His body screamed in pain, but the numbing fog in his mind kept him from fully registering the extent of his injuries.

“Stay with me, kid!” a man’s voice shouted, urgent but steady. “We’ve called for an ambulance. Don’t move!”

Jaeyoung’s eyelids fluttered, his vision still blurry. The smell of asphalt and blood filled his senses. He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry, and his words came out as a barely audible croak.

“Easy, don’t try to talk,” another voice said, softer this time. “Help is on the way.”

The minutes stretched on, feeling like hours, until the wail of sirens filled the air. The flashing red and blue lights painted the scene in harsh, surreal colors. EMTs surrounded him, asking questions he could barely understand as they checked his vitals and stabilized his body.

“Motorcycle accident. Possible concussion, multiple abrasions, likely fractures in the left leg and ribs,” one of them reported briskly as they worked.

Jaeyoung’s head lolled to the side, and through his half-open eyes, he caught a glimpse of his motorcycle—a crumpled heap of metal lying several meters away. The sight sent a pang of guilt through him. He’d been reckless, and now he was paying the price.

As they loaded him onto the stretcher, the pain began to break through the haze, sharp and unforgiving. He groaned softly, the sound barely audible over the chaos.

“Hang in there,” an EMT said as they secured him in the ambulance. “We’ll get you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”

The ride to the hospital was a blur of lights and voices. Every bump in the road sent jolts of pain through his body, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay awake.

When they arrived at the emergency room, the medics wheeled him through the bright, sterile hallways, calling out his condition to the waiting doctors and nurses. The flood of activity was overwhelming—IV lines, monitors, and the steady beeping of machines surrounded him.

"Lee Jaeyoung, male, early twenties, motorcycle collision victim," a nurse read aloud as they began assessing his injuries.

The words sounded distant, almost unreal. Jaeyoung closed his eyes, exhaustion overtaking him.

---

Hours later, he woke up in a dimly lit hospital room. The sterile smell and soft hum of machines greeted him. His entire body ached, a dull, relentless pain radiating from every corner. He glanced down and saw his left leg in a cast, his arms bandaged, and an IV line attached to his hand.

“About time you woke up,” a familiar voice said from the corner of the room.

Jaeyoung turned his head slowly and saw Jihoon sitting there, looking pale and worried.

“Dude, you scared the hell out of us,” Jihoon said, standing up and walking over to the bed. “What were you thinking, riding like that? And without a helmet?”

Jaeyoung tried to respond, but his throat was dry. Jihoon noticed and quickly poured a glass of water, helping him take a sip.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Jihoon continued, his voice cracking slightly. “The doctors said it could’ve been so much worse.”

Jaeyoung leaned back against the pillows, his mind foggy but slowly piecing things together. He remembered the party, the riverside, the crash—and the overwhelming despair that had driven him to recklessness.