“You dehydrated yourself pretty well with all that vomiting.”

Kris’ head lifted slowly, looking for the source of the strange voice and finding a petit doctor standing with her clipboard and a smile. She was potentially the first caucasian woman he’d seen since arriving in Korea, and it kind of threw him off.

“You scared your poor mother half to death.” She continued, and Kris realized why it sounded so weird. She was speaking English.

“My mother?” Kris repeated, and she smiled, nodding.

“She went to get coffee, but she’ll be back in a minute or two. She was very worried, though.” She said, and Kris groaned.

“Worried about what? It was just a little fever.” Kris said, and she shook her head.

“That ‘little fever’ could have killed you if she had continued to let it climb.” The doctor explained. “You’re very lucky she knew to bring you in when she did.”

Kris opened his mouth to say something else, but Umma walked back into the room a moment later and sighed in relief when she saw him sitting up and looking kind of alert. She took a seat on the side of his bed and smiled, taking his hand in hers and looking at him with a soft sort of affection in her eyes, and Kris fought the urge to groan at that, too. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder in a little display of willing vulnerability that he only really had with her, sick or not.

“Where’s Lay?” He asked instead of properly greeting her. Somehow, his sick brain had convinced his slightly less sick brain that Lay was sick, too.

“He’s at home with the other boys, they’ll probably be able to go home tonight or in the morning.” Umma said, and Kris frowned.

“But he’s sick.” Kris said, genuinely confused. “You said Lay was sick, when you called for an ambulance.”

Umma smiled softly, shaking her head and chuckling. “I think you might have been hearing things.” She said, and Kris shook his head, thinking hard.

“You called for the ambulance and you said Lay was sick.” Kris insisted, and Umma sighed, sitting back a bit and thinking for a moment before looking at Kris with a serious expression.

“I said my son, was sick. Not Lay.” Umma said, and Kris actually felt his cheeks turning red.

“Foster son.” Kris clarified, and Umma looked genuinely frustrated by that.

“A son is a son, YiFan.” She said, her tone stern, and Kris’ eyes widened at the use of his given name. “The title you put before it is entirely your own doing. We’ve had this conversation.”

Kris had sat in silence for a long time after those words. Long enough for the fever reducers to wear off. Long enough for Umma to step out of the room to call Lay. Long enough for his sleepiness to set back in. Long enough for his insecurities to kick up. Long enough for him to dream.

Umma had never been the one to catch Kris sleep talking. It was always Lay, and he would tell her about it in the morning. This time, Umma was the only one there to hear it, and she kind of thought maybe that was a good thing, since he was calling out for her anyway.

“I’m right here.” She whispered, his hair gently, and he settled a little bit.

“Don’t go.” He mumbled, his fists curled into the blankets and his eyebrows furrowed. She smiled softly, kissing his head.

“Ahh, your Umma isn’t going anywhere. She loves you too much.” Umma promised the sleeping boy, and Kris mumbled something she didn’t quite catch, but that was alright. She looked up when the doctor came and smiled, watching her check the teens levels and vitals and temperature, and then smiling when she said he could probably go home when he woke up.

Umma settled in to wait, stepping away from Kris to check that everything they had brought was gathered before taking a seat on the little couch. She had barely gotten comfortable when Kris started talking again, this time kind of frantically, and Umma stood up carefully. English...that was definitely English. And she didn’t speak it, but the doctor did. Umma was about to go look for her when she appeared in the doorway, her eyes surprised. She listened to Kris for a moment before turning to Umma.

“He’s adopted?” She asked, her eyes wide in surprise, and Umma blinked a few times.

“I’m fostering him, but he is my son.” Umma said firmly, and the doctor looked thoughtful.

“Well, I think he might want it to be a little bit more of a permanent arrangement. He’s asking you not to leave.” She said, and Umma sighed a bit before going to the bed.

Umma sang a soft Korean lullaby, listening as Kris’ frantic speech calmed some, changing languages entirely for the last words he let slip out before waking with a sudden jolt.

“I want to stay.”

I know, this chapter was short af, but two updates in a day after a 7-month hiatus isn't too bad, yeah?

Anyway, this is where the plot thickens, and 's about to get real.

(Leave me comments they're my life blood)