Chapter 23

Hours blurred into eternity. Jin was rushed to the hospital, blood staining Namjoon's trembling hands. He waited, numb, outside the ICU, doctors rushing in and out. Three hours later, a doctor finally called him inside.

"Doctor-please, tell me, is he safe? Is my hyung alright?" Namjoon's voice cracked with desperation.

The doctor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "He's stable now. Out of critical danger. But... he took a heavy hit to the head. He's fallen into a coma. He may wake in a few days... or weeks... sometimes even months. We can't predict. But don't lose hope."

Namjoon's knees buckled as the words sank in. He stumbled into the waiting hall and collapsed into a chair. Tears poured down endlessly. 'This is my fault. All of it. He's lying there because of me.'

For two nights Jin remained in the ICU. Namjoon never left, his eyes bloodshot, his hands pressed together in endless prayers. When Jin was finally moved into a private ward, Namjoon sat beside him day and night, refusing to close his eyes.

Two weeks passed like this-silent, agonizing. Next week, they would transfer Jin back to the other hospital in there place with proper medical care. But Namjoon's mind was poisoned with guilt.

Every time he looked at Jin's unconscious face, the memories flooded back: the times he had forced his will on him, the times his obsession had caused Jin pain. Now, sitting there, Namjoon despised himself.

"Hyung..." he whispered, his voice breaking, forehead pressed against Jin's hand. "Please wake up. I'll change. I swear I'll change. Just... don't leave me."

Namjoon stayed like that every night, broken and sleepless. For the first time in his life, he wasn't clinging to Jin's body-he was clinging to his existence, terrified that if Jin slipped away, so would every reason Namjoon had left to live.

---

A week later, with proper medical care arranged, Jin was finally transferred to a hospital in their own town. Namjoon accompanied him on the flight, never letting go of his hand for even a second. Once they landed, Namjoon handled every procedure, every form, every detail of the admission as though his life depended on it. Only when Jin was settled into a quiet, private room did Namjoon allow himself to breathe.

After making sure everything was in order, he went back home for a short while-packing some clothes, a few of his books, and essentials. He had already decided: he wouldn't be leaving Jin alone here. From that day on, the hospital became his second home.

Namjoon's final year at university was about to begin, and though his mind was chained to Jin, he knew he couldn't give up. He promised Jin that when he woke up, he'd make him proud. Every morning he went to university according to his schedule, but the moment classes ended, he would rush straight back to the hospital.

Days turned into weeks, and Namjoon fell into a routine that became second nature. He wiped Jin's body with warm water, carefully changing his clothes, making sure his hyung was always clean and comfortable. He brushed his hair every evening, smoothing it gently as if Jin could feel the touch. Sometimes, he would hold Jin's hand while combing his hair, whispering softly, "Hyung, you'd scold me if I let you look messy like this."

He talked to Jin constantly, as though silence itself would swallow him whole if he didn't. He told him about his classes, about the books he was reading, about how the cafeteria food was still terrible. "You'd hate it, hyung. Honestly, I don't even eat much there. I wait until I come here and... eat with you." Sometimes he brought food into the room, setting a tray beside Jin's bed and eating quietly, pretending they were sharing a meal like they used to.

At night, when the ward grew quiet, Namjoon often sat by the window, reading his textbooks aloud. "You always said my voice was boring when I read," he would say with a faint smile, glancing at Jin's still figure, "but maybe that'll wake you up."

When exhaustion hit, Namjoon laid his head on the edge of Jin's bed, their hands loosely intertwined. More than once, nurses found him asleep that way, his lips still parted as though mid-conversation.

Once a week, Namjoon forced himself to go home-cleaning the house, doing laundry, and picking up anything necessary-before returning to the hospital the same day. He never lingered at home; the silence there was suffocating without Jin's presence.

Every night, before closing his eyes, he whispered his prayer: *"Hyung, please wake up tomorrow. Just open your eyes once. Smile at me once. I'll wait-no matter how long it takes."*

Months slipped by like this. Jin's wounds had long healed, his face calm and unbothered, as though he were simply sleeping deeply. Only the beeping machines reminded Namjoon that it wasn't a peaceful nap.

Seven months passed. Seven long months where Namjoon lived between two worlds-university and the hospital. He grew thinner, the shadows under his eyes deepened, and loneliness carved itself into his bones. Insomnia followed him, and though he took pills to snatch a few hours of rest, he knew the only true cure was Jin waking up.

He missed him-missed his voice, his laughter, the way he nagged him, the warmth of his presence. Sometimes, he confessed secrets into the quiet: "Hyung, do you know... I don't think I've ever really been me without you. I don't even know who I'd be if you didn't come back." Other times, his words were simple, tender promises: "When you open your eyes, I'll be right here. Always."

And through it all, Namjoon never stopped hoping. Every time he looked at Jin, he whispered with conviction, *"You'll come back to me, hyung. I know you will."*