This part takes place a few years on from the first one.

It’s very soft when Hyukjae wakes up. He lies there marveling at how easy it is to breathe, how whole it makes him feel. His vision is blurred when he opens his eyes, a pale beige, a shock of dark brown. He shifts, testing the stretch of his muscles, and Donghae shifts along with him.

One of Hyukjae’s arms is curled between them, and he arcs his fingers just enough so that his knuckles brush over skin. Donghae moves an arm lazily, the one draped over Hyukjae’s ribs, lowering it until it rests over the crook of his waist.

Hyukjae’s fingers trip over fabric. He narrows his eyes. “What’s this?”

Donghae’s arm leaves his side, directing Hyukjae’s attention to where the fabric is joined together, splitting open again to wrap around Hyukjae as well. “‘S to keep us touching,” he explains, flexing one of his legs - Hyukjae’s leg moves with it. They’re tied together there as well, the soft silk unobtrusive enough that Hyukjae hadn’t even noticed. To keep them from rolling away from each other in their sleep.

“What happened?” Hyukjae asks, voice cracked and thick with sleep. He blinks hard a few times, but his lids feel heavy. He can still see Donghae clearly, and the concerned expression on his face.

“Recording went late. Hangeng hyung tried to get me out but it was hard, and then traffic…”

“Yeah. Let’s not do that again.”

“Hyukjae,” Donghae says through a tight throat, “You were gone. I couldn’t feel you at all, it was like - it was awful. And that’s the last thing I remember.”

He tries to imagine that - not feeling Donghae. The bond is mostly background noise, but the fact that it scares him to even think about what it must be like for the connection between them to disappear is awful. He feels a pang of guilt at putting Donghae through that.

“We won’t let it get that far again. Once was enough,” he says. Donghae just nods.

Hyukjae gently pulls his arm out from where it’s resting underneath Donghae’s waist and begins to untie the knot of satin that’s looping them together. He notices the IV drip attached to the back of his hand then, and the drip line snaking down the back of the arm Donghae still has slung loosely over Hyukjae’s bare waist. They’re both , of course - maximum surface area. It takes little effort to undo the satin hobble from around their thighs.

Sighing, Hyukjae scoots closer. Their legs tangle easily, arms wrapped tighter and Donghae rolls halfway onto his back. Hyukjae presses his face into the crook of his shoulder. They don’t need anything forcing them together.

After what seems like only moments, the door to the hospital room clicks gently open. Hyukjae rolls away just far enough so that he can see the nurse, but he refuses to go any further than that. She smiles at them gently.

“It’s good to see you awake. How are you both feeling?”

“Comfortable,” Donghae mutters into Hyukjae’s shoulder, not loud enough for the nurse to hear. Hyukjae laughs and just opts for giving the nurse a thumbs-up.

“All right. I’m nurse Hyunjung; your doctor is on the way, but I don’t want you two separating until she gives you the okay. You should be fine by now, but we’re not taking any risks. That was a good scare you gave everyone.”

Donghae lifts his head to look at Hyukjae, the both of them wearing identical expressions of concern.

“How… how bad was it?” Hyukjae asks hesitantly.

“Well, you were separated for more than ten hours, and unconscious for thirty minutes until you were in physical contact again. That’s acute touch starvation for your level of bond.” Nurse Hyunjung approaches the double-wide bed, smiling her gentle smile. “I don’t think you need these anymore,” she says, gently lifting Hyukjae’s arm so she can remove the IV, then does the same for Donghae.

“How long have we been here?” Donghae asks her cautiously.

“Hm, let me check,” she says, flipping quickly through their file. “It’s been about 28 hours.”

“We’ve been asleep for twenty-eight hours?”

“More of an unconscious state. You entered normal sleep patterns about eleven hours ago and were moved here to complete your recovery. But don’t worry, okay? You look to be on track for discharge as soon as Doctor Ko gives the go-ahead.”

“Hyuk,” Donghae says lowly after she has gone, “We were apart longer than is safe for less than three hours.”

Hyukjae doesn’t say anything, just lets the words settle around the room. It isn’t like there’s anything they can do about it. In a way, they went through their worst fear and came out just fine on the other side, but now the difference between them and other bonded pairs is startlingly obvious.

The door opens after only a few minutes of tense silence and Doctor Ko enters. “Boys,” she says on a sigh, “I have to say, I’m glad to see you doing so well.”

Hyukjae feels almost like he might cry. They both knew the risks; the seriousness of the situation is not something they weren’t prepared for, but it still feels like a failing. He swallows hard and tries to focus on where his legs are still tangled together with Donghae’s.

Doctor Ko sighs, respecting their silence. The two of them allow her to check their vitals, bright lights in their eyes and the cool diaphragm against their chests in a perfunctory examination.

“Okay. I’ve requested your discharge so you can go home as soon as it’s completed, but I want you to stay in contact as much as possible for the next two days. It doesn’t have to be maximum surface area, but skin-to-skin contact, okay? Just to be sure. After that we’re going to come up with a more comprehensive model for your specific bond. Unfortunately we learned your parameters the hard way, but on the bright side, we have more knowledge to prevent it from happening in the future.” She pauses, looking between them. “Got it?”

“Yes,” Donghae says lowly. Hyukjae nods.

Doctor Ko pushes her hair behind her ear. “I’m not scolding you, I know you’re in a difficult situation. But it’s my job to make sure you are healthy. Now, you have a visitor, so I’m going to let you two get dressed before I send him in. Remember, skin-to-skin contact.”

The both nod again, thanking her and promising to schedule another meeting in a few days. There are some clothes folded neatly on the chair across from their hospital bed and Hyukjae moves to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his back. Immediately he feels the familiar, nervous hum of anxiety that comes from nowhere but is everywhere all at once - usually the sign that he’s been away from Donghae for too long. Never has he felt this disquieted when Donghae is only a foot away, not since the first days after they bonded.

Donghae has already stretched out his fingers to grasp Hyukjae’s forearm, where his hand is clenching a little too tightly onto the edge of the mattress. The feeling fades immediately. They end up dressing each other more than themselves, hands on shoulders and flanks to steady themselves and one another, fingers brushing against skin as much as cloth. Neither of them are shy with one another’s bodies, not after this long, but Hyukjae still feels his cheeks warming; ducks his head to hide it.

He has the urge to fold the bedsheets, maybe to restore a little bit of control, which proves difficult because holding hands is the easiest way to keep in physical contact. Donghae ends up hovering near him, sneaking his fingers under the hem of Hyukjae’s shirt when the discomfort gets to be too much. Hyukjae feels slightly better when he’s done, and then they climb back onto the bed, fingers tangling together easily.

The door opens not much longer than a minute after they’re both settled and Junsgu pokes his head around the frame. He smiles in hello when he sees them both dressed and comes fully into the room.

“Hyung - “ Hyukjae starts, but Jungsu just waves him away.

“Don’t start apologizing. What happened is not your faults.”

“We should have been more careful,” Donghae says sadly, but Jungsu just sighs.

“I’m not going to tell you everything is okay, but - well, we aren’t going to blame this on you. But I had to convince them to send me in instead of a manager.”

Hyukjae looks down at his hands, which happens to mean he looks down at Donghae’s hands, and sees that his grip is more tense than it feels. “So what did they have to say?” he asks, even though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

“That you have to rethink your individual activity choices,” Leeteuk says, and Donghae’s grip becomes so tight that Hyukjae has to pull his hand away. “But I don’t think that’s an order. You’re going to need to be more careful about how you manage your schedules, though, because if this happens again..”

“It won’t,” Hyukjae says firmly. “Jungsu, I’m - we really are sorry to make everyone worry. And to make you stand up for us again. You shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s my job, Hyukjae.”

“That’s why we’re not going to let it happen again,” Hyukjae says with a wave of his hand, which he then uses to grab Donghae’s again, because the movement had made him slightly dizzy. “And… it wasn’t… it’s not something we want to repeat. Right, Hae?”

Donghae shakes his head mutely. Hyukjae remembers the fight they’d had when Donghae had wanted to take his first acting role. About how it was too dangerous, how Hyukjae had worried about exactly this situation, but now Hyukjae’s chest constricts at seeing the drawn expression Donghae is wearing.

Hyukjae swings his gaze back to Jungsu, letting Donghae play with his fingers. “Hyung, Doctor Ko told us we’ll be able to set guidelines now. We’ll know how many hours we can be apart and how long before touch separation gets to be critical, so I really mean it. This won’t happen again. If the managers can just…” he trails off, uncertain.

“I’ll take care of it,” Jungsu says. He checks his watch. “Well, you’re being signed out now, so as soon as Junghoon gets back we can head out.”

“Does the press know?” Donghae asks suddenly.

Jungsu shakes his head, then shrugs. “They said it was taken care of. We can get out of here okay if we move fast.”

Junghoon arrives shortly and between the four of them, Hyukjae and Donghae can manage to keep their hands linked without being noticed through the hospital and down towards the back exit. They separate just long enough to get into the van; Hyukjae has barely made it into his seat before Donghae is sliding in next to him, colliding against his side in a way that would make Hyukjae laugh if there was any humor in this situation.

“How long?” Junghoon says from the passenger seat, looking pointedly at where their hands are already twisted together.

“24 hours,” Dongahe says with a sigh so heavy that Hyukjae can feel it.

“We’ll clear your schedules, then,” Junghoon says as Leeteuk slides the heavy van door shut.

It’s quiet as they drive off. Hyukjae can’t shake the feeling that he’s just been caught in some sort of lie. Hiding a secret as big as this one has always, always felt like a lie. He rests his head against the back of the seat and watches the scenery slide by, and after a minute, Donghae tips his head onto his shoulder. He’s a reassuring warmth all along Hyukjae’s side, and he thinks, not for the first time, that at least he’ll never have to go through this alone.