"don't die on me." it was always a running joke between you two—nothing more, nothing less. there's never been an actual reason to use the phrase.

since what felt like forever, you've never had to use it in a real-life situation—until now. it felt almost ironic how a harmless joke could turn into something that felt so incredibly real, even if you wished it never was.

what had felt like a dream was still so clear in your mind. screeching tires, blood, and lots and lots of crying. now, heeseung laid beside you in his hospital bed, with more injuries than you could count. gently, you traced your finger over his wrist, your gaze falling on the iv attached to his arm.

just an hour ago, his head was in your lap, blood dripping down the side of his head. he looked so fragile, almost like if you touched him any more than once, he'd break. there was still dried up blood on your fingers, the blood that you had so desperately tried to wash off, as if that would've erased the memory from your mind.

according to the doctor, his injuries were bad—and although there was only a small chance, they could be fatal. you wanted him to wake up, for things to go back to how they were before any of this happened.

"don't die on me," you whispered softly, your voice almost drowned out by the sound of the breeze coming in through the window. "this time, it's not a joke. i promise."