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Not even a few minutes after the introduction, my manager had politely yet authoritatively asked me to leave the room. Still baffled, I obliged, turning to glance at Taeyong one last time before leaving, maybe to satisfy my craving heart, so it could at least hope to realize the fact that he was alive. That I had, through blood and fire, managed to save him.
His eyes met mine, and there was a dullness in them very much unlike the brightness I had seen reflected inside when I'd first opened my eyes in the hospital. It could have been a warning, but he was too inanimate for it to be that.
He shared a long, meaningful look with the man sitting at the foot, and something like understanding passed between them. Biting my lip, I looked away. Not yet. I was too giddy with relief for any more riddles.
With a sigh, I pushed through the doors, unable to keep my hands from shaking. My nerves were frayed, from fear and favour, and distinctly, I found myself wondering about the hospital. How had they managed to get him in here? And why did the place, or at least this floor, seem so empty?
I shuddered, as if ridding myself of the invasive questions. At this point, I didn't even care to question something I did not want to know the answer to.
Slowly, I walked down the seemingly never-ending hallway, trying to steady my hair before I faced anyone else. The other racers would have known about their manager's return, if he truly had been missing and not in hiding. And if the manager was here, then the bikers couldn't be far behind.
Or maybe something else was coming.
I stopped in my tracks at the thought, shaking my head firmly. I couldn't afford to think like that. Through the past events, my mind had been in so much turmoil. It was better to snatch whatever peace I could get, even if it was as fleeting as that night.
My jacket was gone, and the t-shirt I had worn underneath was blackened in some places, as if they had been licked by the hungry flames when I hadn't noticed. Apart from my hands, which stung a little every time I held something, I was relatively unscathed. Luckily.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't notice when I reached the an occupied bench. If it hadn't been for the foot threatening to spill me onto the floor in an accidental trip, I wouldn't have noticed the figure in dark clothing, even if he stood out painfully against the starkness of the white walls.
"Well," the voice spoke up, and I looked up in shock. "Aren't you even going to greet your old man?"
For a long moment, I was frozen. Wide awake, all other thoughts and worries dispelled from my mind as I looked at the man sitting in front of me, his smile warm and a little said. Pained. Maybe this isn't real, my cynical mind whispered. Maybe you're dreaming again—
