Today is day 378, and Han hasn't sent any more letters. After receiving the last letter, Minho tried his best to not be affected by it. Minho has been avoiding work, unable to fake a smile to the customers. He has met up with Changbin and Hyunjin, unable to truly enjoy himself or feel much at all, really. He's been cooped up in the attic despite the heat, laying and staring at the still hanging stars on the ceiling. He thought he could follow Han's words, but now that he has the okay to forget, he doesn't want to. He'd rather sit in his pain remembering everything that could have been and pretending that Han was still around to love him. They've tried to help him, but being around them can only do so much, now. He tried looking through photos, tried anything he could think of to make Han seem closer to him. He had replanted the roses, watering them the best he could with so little energy. He had fixed the swing attached to the tree, everything. Sleep became the only way to feel better, usually dreaming of Han or not at all.
When he hears the familiar sound of angry wings, Minho doesn't immediately react. He's used to hearing such things in the attic. His mind wanders to his first interaction with Han, that stupid joke about wasp killer. When he feels something on his arm, he mindlessly shoos it away, only to feel something else on him right after. He's used to being calm, knowing that freaking out will do more harm than good. He looks down, his eyes going wide at the angry looking wasp. He holds his breath, looking around for the epipen he had put up here once the weather warmed up again. Then, he feels it. On the arm he isn't looking at, he feels the one thing he has tried to avoid. Minho scrambles up, looking for that godforsaken epipen.
On day 378, Minho is stung. As he searches, he feels the way his body slows down. He feels the way his throat itches, the way his heart is pounding in his chest. He quickly calls for an ambulance before his throat begins to close, hanging up even when they ask him to stay on the line. He trips over himself, the room spinning as he grabs the bright orange stick, bringing it to his eyes and making his vision focus enough to read the expiration date. It's expired. Minho curses at himself as he lies on the ground, his breathing becoming labored. He knows he can only blame himself, getting so caught up in his emotions that he hadn't thought to buy new ones. He begins to cry, his skin beginning to break out around the sting. His whole body itches, he feels like he may throw up. In fact, he does, leaning his head and emptying his stomach directly beside him on the floor. He reaches for his phone, trying to control his breathing as he feels his throat continuing to swell, tapping into the only contact he has on speed dial. He puts it on speaker, trying to sit himself up and failing. It rings and rings, the number usually going right to voicemail. It gives Minho an ounce of hope. When the call fails, he calls again, trying his best not to pass out. He begs his phone to make the other pick up; if he's going to die he just needs one thing before he does. Minho stares at the ceiling, trying not to get sick again by how everything around him is spinning. His breathing is shallow now, his whole body itchy yet too weak to let him scratch. He can feel how swollen his face is, weakly pressing the call button one more time when no one answers. He can feel his body wanting to pass out so badly, Minho violently blinking to keep himself awake. Please pick up. Minho's mind repeats it like a prayer. Right now, he considers it to be.
"Hello?" Minho smiles weakly, everything terrible happening to his body seeming to go away at the one word. He cries, moving his head closer to the phone.
"Han Jisung." Minho struggles, wheezing quietly into the phone. This is what he needed, for so long he's wanted nothing more than to hear Han again.
"Hyung," Han says, sounding excited and concerned all at once. He has always been so expressive with his voice. Minho closes his eyes.
"Stung." Minho says, a weak, choked off chuckle escaping him. He hears Han talking to him, the words becoming muffled. This is it. The ambulance isn't here yet, but Han is. Han is here, talking to him as he struggles to breathe. To Minho, that's all he can ask for. It's all he wanted, even as his breathing slowly comes to a stop. Even as his vision blacks out, hearing Han's muffled voice on the other end of the line brings him peace. The tears on his face make him itch more, but he can't bring his arm to do it. He hears faintly Han asking him where he is, if he called for help. Minho just lets out a small grunt, tucking his head against the phone as if it would hold him as he dies. Minho listens to Han, the sweet, sweet sound of his voice fading as he begins to panic. He hasn't been breathing for awhile, and he still hears no sirens. This really is it, he thinks. At least Han is here. Han is here. Even if he's delusional and imagining it, it brings him comfort. So, he lets himself slip. His mind replays images of Han, smiling at him. Kissing him. It plays Changbin and Hyunjin, how much they did for Minho when Minho couldn't bring himself to be happy. It plays his parents, the last time he saw them and the cats he loves so much. He sees all of them, all smiling at him and telling him that it's going to be okay. He focuses on Han, Han's voice sounding like it's coming through a speaker.
On day 378, Minho was stung. His epipen was expired and Han had answered the phone. Han had answered the phone. Han answered the phone. Minho fell unconscious with the hope of what that may mean, that he's home or may be soon. Minho slipped away hoping. Hoping that Han still loved him, hoping that he'll be able to see him again. Hoping he would come and explain everything he couldn't before. He slipped away waiting; for the sirens to come, for anyone to burst into the attic and keep him awake. More than anything, he waited for Han. He waited for his letters, waited to hear his voice again. He slipped away happy, the kind of happy he's only ever felt with Han. He was happy to think Han may be close, may come and see him. Even if not for Minho, Han has to come home. He has to.
And he does.
End of book One.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
As promised, there is a playlist of all the songs and a pinterest board for this fic. I got really attached to this story, I hope you guys look forward to part two as much as I do :)
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1doLuFCwUwarhQ5Tgs1lr5?si=bsKeYe_1Sh-vHCwoT_2gzw
https://pin.it/7H0IumJ
Thank you for reading up to this point!!
OUTRO/CREDITS SONG:
YOU ARE READING
Into the Hornet's Nest
FanfictionHan and Minho meet when Minho begins fixing up Han's childhood home. "Do you know which of these are best for wasps?" Minho asks. "None of them," The boy says, turning his face to Minho. "They kill wasps, that isn't good for them." Completed stor...
