The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a dim glow over the stark hospital hallway. Go Eunhyuk sat on the cold bench, his fingers curled into the fabric of his jeans, his head resting back against the white wall. His breath came slow, measured, as if exhaling too hard might make everything unravel.

The sting in his ear was still fresh, dulled only slightly by the numbing salve the nurse had applied. He shifted his weight, wincing when the bandage tugged against his skin. His mother was still inside the doctor’s office, her muffled voice breaking every now and then—too quiet to make out the words but heavy enough to know she was tired.

His mind replayed the last few hours like a broken record—his father’s voice dripping with venom, the sickening crack of his palm meeting skin, the sharp ring in his ear that never faded.

The wire of his earphones dangled from his pocket, only one side in use now. It felt strange—music used to sound so full, so complete. Now, it felt like a song cut in half, much like everything else in his life.

The faint shuffle of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. His gaze flickered up, and for a moment, his breath hitched.

You stood there, IV stand in hand, draped in a loose hospital gown that looked far too big for you. Your eyes landed on the bandage over his ear, and something shifted in your expression. Concern, curiosity—maybe both.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sterile air between you was thick with unspoken things.

“You okay?” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

Eunhyuk let out a quiet scoff, looking away. “Do I look okay?”

You didn’t answer right away, but instead, without asking, you sat beside him. Close, but not too close. He didn’t push you away. Maybe he didn’t want to.