You're Mine, I'm Yours II

Part 27

The room was quiet except for the steady, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. The sterile smell of antiseptic lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the soft hum of machinery. The pale overhead light cast a dim glow over the space, making the room feel both calming and somber.

First's eyelids fluttered open, his vision blurry and disoriented. His body felt heavy, weighed down by pain and exhaustion. Every breath he took sent a dull ache rippling through his chest, a harsh reminder of his injuries. He blinked slowly, his gaze settling on the white ceiling before shifting to the side.

That's when he saw him.

Khaotung was seated in the chair beside the bed, his head resting against the edge of the mattress. His hand was wrapped tightly around First's, as if afraid to let go, even in sleep. His face was pale, dark circles under his eyes from endless worry and sleepless nights. His body was slouched, exhaustion radiating from him in waves. It was clear he had been keeping vigil, refusing to leave First's side, until sleep had finally overtaken him.

First's heart ached-not just from his injuries but from the sight of Khaotung. His Tung. The boy he'd fought so hard to protect. He looked so fragile, so drained, yet still so beautiful in his vulnerability. He must have been through hell, First thought. He wanted to reach out, to brush the stray strands of hair from Khaotung's face, to tell him everything would be okay. But his body betrayed him, too weak to even lift a hand.

Instead, he simply stared, letting his gaze linger on Khaotung's face. He's safe, First thought, a faint sense of relief washing over him despite the pain. I didn't fail him. He's here. He's alive.

Summoning every ounce of strength he had, First tried to shift slightly, but his body immediately protested. A sharp jolt of pain shot through his ribs, and a low groan escaped his lips before he could stop it.

The sound stirred Khaotung. His eyelids fluttered open, his body jerking upright as he woke. It took him a moment to register what had happened, his sleep-fogged brain catching up to the present. And then his eyes met First's.

"First..." Khaotung breathed, his voice a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. He immediately leaned forward, his hand tightening around First's. His eyes, still puffy from crying, filled with fresh tears. "You're awake... you're finally awake..."

First managed a weak, lopsided smile, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tung... you look like hell."

Khaotung let out a choked laugh, half a sob, as he shook his head. "You're the one in the hospital bed, and you're calling me a mess?" His fingers brushed lightly against First's, his touch trembling. "I thought... I thought I lost you."

"You didn't," First murmured, his voice hoarse. He swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. "You're here. That's all that matters."

Khaotung's tears spilled over as he cupped First's hand in both of his. "You idiot," he said, his voice breaking. "You nearly got yourself killed. Do you have any idea what I went through? I thought-" His words caught in his throat, and he pressed his forehead against their joined hands. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I'm sorry," First whispered, his heart breaking at the sight of Khaotung's pain. "I couldn't let them hurt you. I had to protect you."

Khaotung shook his head, his tears soaking into the blanket. "You don't get to do that, First. You don't get to leave me like that. I need you. Don't you understand? I need you."

First's lips trembled, his chest tightening-not just from the pain of his injuries but from the weight of Khaotung's words. "I'm here," he promised, his voice weak but steady. "I'm here, Tung. And I'm not going anywhere."