HANEUL’S mind felt sluggish, as if wrapped in layers of cotton. A deep tiredness settled into his bones, making even breathing feel heavy. His thoughts came slowly, drifting in and out before he could grasp them. A dull ache pulsed at the back of his neck, spreading warmth through his body. His throat was dry, his stomach hollow. Unease lingered beneath the fog, something he couldn’t really explain. He pulled himself toward the surface, forcing his mind to wake up. Then he slowly opened his eyes.
The ceiling came into focus first. Bright light pressed against his eyes from the side, making him blink. The room smelled clean and still. He blinked again, then slowly turned his head. His mother sat in a chair beside his hospital bed. Her head was tilted slightly to the side, her chin dipping low as if she were fighting to stay awake. Her eyes were half closed. She looked as if she had been sitting there for a long time.
Seeing her, the fog in his brain finally cleared. Scenes flashed like a film in his mind. It’s not linear, but came in fragments. And yet despite that, he still understood what had happened. Or more particularly, what he did. The heat. The desperation. The way he’d clung to Taeyang.
Shame and embarrassment hit him like a freight truck. He couldn’t believe the things he’d said. The way he’d acted. How desperately he’d pressed himself against Taeyang. He tried to tell himself it was just the pheromones, that it wasn’t really him. That helped a little. Just a tiny bit. But the memory of his own voice begging for more kept playing in his head. His face burned so hot he was sure it could melt ice. He wanted to disappear into the mattress and never come out.
Haneul lifted his hand slowly and touched the back of his neck. His fingers brushed over the spot where Taeyang’s teeth had sunk in. The skin was tender and slightly raised, warmer than the rest of his skin. A dull ache pulsed beneath his fingertips. It wasn’t sharp or painful, but the touch itself sent a flutter low in his stomach. That flutter only made his already heated face burn even more. He let his hand drop back to the bed before his brain started to think of things that he shouldn’t be thinking this early in the morning.
Still, even with his face burning and his stomach in knots, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not entirely. The mark on his neck was a reminder of what had happened, yes, but it was also a reminder that Taeyang had been there when he needed him most. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it would have been if Taeyang hadn’t stepped forward.
And the fact that, despite his condition, he’d still asked for Taeyang meant that deep down he’d known the other wouldn’t hesitate to help him. Thank god for that, because he honestly didn’t know what he would have done if things had gone differently.
But the thought of having to face Taeyang later made his stomach twist. Right now, he didn’t know how to act around him. It was easy to tell himself to just act normal, but after everything that happened, that felt impossible. He didn’t fully understand what a temporary mark meant in this society, but he knew it wasn’t something you did with just anyone. Even if it had been done out of necessity, they had still gone through it. It wasn’t something they could pretend hadn’t happened. And Haneul had no idea what to do with that.
He shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside for the moment. He’d deal with them later. For now... He turned his attention to his mother and felt his chest soften at the sight of her. Knowing she had flown here the moment she heard what happened made him feel deeply loved. He was sure his father and sister would have come too if they could. But Haeun was still a student who couldn’t just skip classes, and their father needed to stay with her in Seoul.
"Mom," he called out, and was startled by how rough his own voice sounded. It came out dry and cracked, barely above a whisper. It’s only now he realized his throat felt like sandpaper.
His mother jerked upright, her head snapping up as if she’d been shocked awake. The moment her eyes landed on him, the sleepiness vanished from her face. She was on her feet in an instant.
"How are you feeling? Do you need water? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?" The questions came out in a rush, her hands hovering over him like she didn’t know where to start.
Haneul tried to smile, though it probably came out weak. "I’m fine, Mom. Definitely better than yesterday. I’m really hungry, though."
Eunji let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The tension in her shoulders eased as she studied his face. His color was back to normal. The flushed, feverish look from before was gone. He didn’t look like he was burning up anymore. His eyes were clear, his breathing steady. He looked tired, yes, but not like he was on the verge of collapsing. She reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead.
"I’ll go grab you some breakfast," she said. "And call the doctor on my way out."
He held out his arms gently, "Can I have a hug first?"
Eunji let out a soft laugh at her son, suddenly looking like the little boy he used to be. She leaned in carefully, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle hug. "You scared me, kiddo," she murmured against his hair. "Do you know that?"
Haneul buried his face in his mother’s neck and let himself soak in her warmth. "I’m sorry I worried you."
"What nonsense," Eunji said, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. "None of this was your fault. You have nothing to apologize for."
A small, grateful smile tugged at Haneul’s lips at his mother’s words.