In the hospital, a nurse stops Jongin from following the gurney that carries Chanyeol. “Only family is allowed inside,” the man says. “Are you family?”

“I-I saved him,” Jongin says. “I pulled him from the tracks and accompanied him here. Please, I need to know that he’s all right.” He tries to move forward but the nurse settles a hand over his chest and holds him.

“Are you family?”

“Please, I’m his—”

What can he say to get inside?

The nurse frowns. “His?”

“His f-f—”

He needs to get inside.

The nurse tries helping him out. “Family? Friend? Fiancé?”

“Fiancé.”

Wait. What?

The male nurse suddenly smiles wide. Jongin can almost see the stars in—he reads the tag—Yixing’s eyes. “I understand,” he says, and pats Jongin’s hands.

Yixing shows him to a chair and tells him to wait, and then flutters away. Jongin is still frozen, screaming inside at the blatant lie he just spouted, but if it means he’ll get to see Chanyeol, then he’ll roll with it.

Once Chanyeol’s been stabilized and checked into a room for observation, Yixing, bless his heart, grabs Jongin’s wrist and immediately takes him to see his unconscious prince.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a moment,” Yixing says. “He won’t wake up for a while, yet, but talk to him. He’ll hear you.”

Jongin takes the time to study Chanyeol closely. His dark hair, his soft oval face, his perfectly plucked brows, his bumpy nose, and pouty rose-colored lips. And of course, Jongin’s favorite feature, the big ears that stick out at the sides. What would it be like to touch them while he kisses Chanyeol? The thought alone makes warmth rush to his cheeks and neck.

It also makes him feel slightly like a creeper. He’s so worried that when a hand descends on his shoulder a girlish scream escapes his lips.

“You’re the one who saved him?” The man is smaller than him, with ash colored hair and warm brown eyes. He is sweaty and breathing unevenly as if he just ran there.

Jongin nods. “Yes, I—”

“Thank you…I really…Thank you.” The man clings to him in a crushing hug, leaving him breathless and a little scared. He doesn’t do well with strangers. Before Jongin can disentangle himself and run away, more people enter the room.

A young man dressed all in black enters first. Too busy with his cellphone, he doesn’t notice Jongin. “Junmyeon won’t answer his phone. I left him a voice mail.”

“No! Call him again.” A really tall older man with hair graying at the sides comes in next. “His brother is in a coma for crying out loud. He should be here!” Too busy fighting to notice Jongin.

“Chanyeol! My poor baby!” A sprite-sized woman barrels in. With straight black hair falling around her face in a bob and ears sticking out to the sides, she has to be Chanyeol’s mother. “What happened to you, my darling? Can you hear me? Can you hear mama?”

“Honey, please tone it down,” the tall man, no doubt Park Senior, says. “I think the dead can hear you at those decibels.”

“Dad, we’re in a hospital. Do you really want to be making jokes about the dead?” The serious looking young man finally glances at