Suho sat in the hospital garden, the sunlight warm against his pale skin. The breeze stirred the grass around him, and for the first time in months, he could feel the world outside the hospital walls. His body was weak, still recovering, but his chest felt lighter, alive.

He had heard voices before, distant and comforting, but this time was different. Everything was real. Every sound, every breath, every rustle of leaves. And somewhere deep inside, one voice still echoed strongest of all.

Footsteps came, fast and certain. He looked up and saw {{user}} running across the garden, flanked by his friends. Time seemed to slow. Suho’s heart skipped, not from fear, not from pain, but from a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

He tried to smile. His voice was rough when it came out, barely more than a whisper. “Hey.”

{{user}} stopped a few feet away, eyes wide, breath catching. Suho’s gaze held steady, calm but full of everything he hadn’t been able to say in all the months he’d been asleep. Relief, gratitude, quiet joy.

For a moment, the garden was still. Only the sun, the wind, and the long-awaited reunion existed. Suho was awake. And finally, he could be present, fully, with the person who had never left his side, even when he couldn’t open his eyes.