You Were My Love

Scene 82 - Disguise

First it was all blurred and muffled.

As though he was listening from under water.

Only partial sounds reached his ears.

He frowned as he tried to make out what he heard and suddenly the voices stopped.

"I think he's regaining consciousness..."

Was that an old man's voice?

His fingers twitched as he tried to gather enough energy to stir a little.

And suddenly, before he even could distinguish other words, he felt the warmth of a large hand on his, the heat of a nearby body that leaned close over him.

Then there was his voice.

That familiar, reassuring, deep, low-pitched voice he loved so much and which meant the whole world to him.

The voice itself was enough to make him feel better.

Well, until today.

Today, paradoxically enough, it also made him ... uncomfortable.

He frowned harder.

"Jimin-ah, honey, can you hear me? Are you OK?" the beautiful voice asked again, laced with worry.

A colder set of fingers reached for his other wrist, and a thinner type of skin felt for his pulse.

"He'll be alright now," the quavering old voice said. "It was just the shock. Be sure to have only relaxing activities for the rest of the day. No stress, or pressure. And no physical strain!" the quavering voice seemed more insistent on the latter words, as though he was warning against a precise thing. "And feed him nutritious food and drinks until his cheeks are that beautiful rosy again."

He could not see him, but he could sense the gentle, comforting smile in the advice he spoke out.

"Thank you, Doctor," the alluring voice said, and just after that, the warmth he had so far felt left him.

Then there was the sound of a door being opened, feet shuffling, and the click of a door being shut.

Warmth engulfed his hand again as the room became silent.

He took a deep breath in and out, and found enough force in him to flutter his eyes open, the rest of his body still limp and useless on the mattress.

He blinked several times to get his misty vision clearer.

The first thing his eyes could behold, as his pretty eyelids finally lifted fully, was Hae Wong's deeply worried, frowning face.

There was also some sort of despaired sadness in his expression.

Jimin started wondering why.

And then everything came rushing back into his mind and tears gushed out of his eyes in endless streams.

"Hae Wong hyung..."

The distant address shot the older one to the heart.

But his mate's tears, desperate eyes and croaky voice got the most of whatever selfishness would have Hae Wong care more about his own pain than about his angel's condition.

"I'm here, sweetie," he smiled weakly at him, waiting for his words as if his life depended on it.

"My... my phone... the message..." he tried to explain, but he was drained out of any energy as he remembered, and suddenly the pain was unbearable, excruciating, taking his breath and his mind away... "Th-... There were ph-... photos..." he started sobbing hard. "I heard y- you... You-" he broke down again, his face the utter expression of frowning pain.