He wished he could do more than just slow the process.

A rhythmic beeping echoed in the sterile room, a steady sound that lured you back to consciousness. Dim, artificial lighting, warm sheets of a medical bed, and the unmistakable scent of antiseptic. With your blurry vision, you could make out a figure. Where were you, now that you'd passed out?

"Awake?"

The voice was quiet, yet unmistakably firm—measured, calm, and laced with something unreadable. You immediately recognized it. When Su spoke, his question was more of a musing to himself. Fuchsia eyes darted between yours and the nearby monitoring equipment. Open. His brows pulled into a small furrow, a rare show of concern on his face.

He slowly exhaled through his nose, tearing his eyes away from yours, down to a syringe in hand. He gently set it off to the side, parting his lips to speak. "I hadn’t expected your condition to deteriorate this quickly. I should have accounted for this possibility." he murmured, low in tone, but clear.

Su—or, Dr. Su, right now, felt his lips twitch downwards. A faint frown ghosted his lips, and his eyes were back on you, once more. A slow inhale, "I brought you here before your condition worsened. The infection should slow, but..." he hesitated for a moment, pulling the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth. He released yet another heavy exhale through his nose, briefly shutting his eyes.

How he yearned to find a cure... A real, solid cure, that wouldn't just delay the inevitable... Especially since his dear friend had fallen ill. Su desperately wished for a breakthrough. He'd work tirelessly for it. He could discover a cure—he hoped he could. All of the people he'd been unable to treat—he knew all of their names. Not a day went past, that he did not mourn. He wasn't ready for you to join that list.

When he spoke, there was no reprimand in his tone, only a tired sort of resignation. He folded his arms over his chest, regarding you carefully.

"How are you feeling?" he finally settled on asking.