Kwon Soonyoung
I don’t know how many hours passed.
I must’ve dozed off at some point, head resting awkwardly on the side of her bed, fingers still tangled with hers like they were my last anchor to this world. I didn’t dream—just floated in that in-between space where time doesn’t really move, and everything smells like antiseptic and silence.
Something stirred.
Barely.
It wasn’t a sound. It was… movement. A twitch, maybe. Her fingers.
I snapped awake, blinking against the dull light of the room. Her hand shifted again. And this time, I saw it clearly.
“Hana?” My voice cracked with sleep and something deeper. I sat up, my heart suddenly pounding, every inch of me tense with hope and fear.
Her eyelids fluttered, her brows twitching slightly, like she was trying to surface from a storm.
“Hana, hey—hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” I leaned closer, barely breathing.
Then—
A slow breath escaped her lips, shaky and uneven. Her fingers curled weakly around mine.
And finally, finally—
Her eyes opened.
She squinted against the light, her gaze unfocused, lost in the ceiling for a second before it shifted… searching.
And then they landed on me.
She blinked, dazed. Her lips moved, dry and cracked, struggling to form a word.
“…Soo…nyoung?”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It came out like a sob. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here.”
Her eyes scanned my face like she didn’t believe it, like she was still somewhere between dreams and reality. Then, with effort, her hand tightened slightly in mine again.
I saw the moment it hit her—everything.
The fight.
The street.
The headlights.
Her face fell, pain flashing behind her tired eyes.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Don’t… don’t try to talk too much, okay? You’ve been out for a while.”
Her voice came out hoarse, broken, but still steady. “You… you’re okay?”
I nodded, tears threatening again. “Yeah. I’m okay. But you—God, Hana…”
I shook my head, ashamed.
“I was a mess that night. I said things I didn’t mean. I was angry, but that doesn’t excuse it. You were just trying to help, and I treated you like—”
She squeezed my hand. Just slightly. Just enough to stop me.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “For all of it. For yelling. For saying those things about your family. I didn’t mean it. I was just—hurt. But I shouldn’t have put that on you.”
And the moment her gaze locked with mine — wide, frantic, trembling — I saw something shift.
Panic.
Her lips parted, voice barely audible. “What… what time is it?”
“Hana, it’s okay—”
“No—no, please—” Her voice cracked as she tried to sit up, her eyes darting wildly around the dim room. “I need a clock. I need to see what time it is.”
“Hey—slow down,” I said, startled by the sudden fear in her. I gently held her shoulder to steady her. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
But she wasn’t hearing me. She turned toward the side table, searching. Her body shook from the effort, but she didn’t care.
“Clock—please—” she gasped, her chest rising fast. “Is it past midnight?”
She looked at me then — really looked — and I swear I’d never seen so much desperation in someone’s eyes.
“Did you…?” she whispered. “Did you make it?”
I blinked. “Make what?”
She froze.
And in the silence that followed, something settled over her.
Relief.
Raw, shuddering, aching relief.
She glanced toward the digital monitor above her bed where the time blinked in soft green letters:
12:41 AM.
A sob escaped her.
She sank back into the pillow like her entire body was giving out.
“Hana—” I reached for her hand again, unsure what to say, what I could say that would make sense.
But she just closed her eyes, lips trembling as she exhaled deeply.
“You’re alive,” she whispered, more to herself than to me.
I didn’t understand it.
Not yet.
But I didn’t push.
Because whatever she was holding in her chest — it mattered. And I had no idea how close I had come to never seeing her again.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, my voice shaking. “For that night. For yelling at you. For the things I said about your family. You didn’t deserve that.”
She didn’t open her eyes.
But she squeezed my hand.
And after a long pause, her voice came, cracked and hoarse but sure:
“I’d do it all over again.”
Then her eyes drifted shut, finally letting herself rest.
But her grip on my hand didn’t loosen.
Not even for a second.
She had finally won over the darkness.
The SEVENTEEN days were finally over.
Kang Hana had managed to save Kwon Soonyoung.
YOU ARE READING
17 DAYS TO GO | KWON SOONYOUNG
Fanfiction- 𝘼 𝙁𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝘽𝙀𝙏𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙊𝙧 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 - Kang Hana, finds herself propelled back in time to prevent her classmate, Kwon Soonyoung from taking a fatal decision. Of all the odds she could have faced, she couldn't believe that she was stan...
