Jonghyun sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes before stretching in his seat and feeling his spine pop satisfactorily. He had been sitting in the same position for hours, watching program after program on History Channel since his grandmother absolutely loved historic documentaries. Thanks to her, he would be an expert in world history sooner rather than later.

He glanced at her, smiling fondly when he saw she had fallen asleep.

He was in the hospital (like he was every other night) visiting his grandmother. He didn’t really know the details about her condition, but she had some sort of problem with her vital organs. It forced her to stay in the hospital as she needed twenty-four-hour watch for a few months until she was healed. And since his parents and all of their relatives lived in another city Jonghyun was the only one to keep her company. His mother had asked him to stay with her so she wouldn’t feel lonely, which was why he almost lived with her there in the hospital – to make her feel more at ease and not like she was just left to die all by herself. Jonghyun wasn’t going to complain though, because he really loved his grandmother. The hospital staff was nice too. They had put an extra bed in her room for him since he more often than not fell asleep in the chair by her bed and they were starting to feel sorry for his aching body.

He pulled the colourful quilt, which she had knitted to make her bed a bit more personal, a little higher up to cover her properly before standing with another stretch. He walked on stiff legs to her bedside table and reached for the remote to turn the TV off. Then he made his way over to the door, dimming the lights before exiting and going down to the third floor to get some hot cocoa. It had almost become a routine at this point; go to work at the hotel, return to the hospital, talk and read with his grandmother for a few hours before watching TV the remaining ones until she fell asleep. Then he’d hunt down his favourite hot beverage in the desolate corridors of the night to get a moment of peace before either going home or staying in the hospital to sleep, depending on his schedule the next day.

He let out a large yawn as he stepped out of the elevator before he stopped completely.

What wasn’t a routine, however, was the young man he found sitting on the ugly green and uncomfortable-looking couch in front of the beverage machine. He had his head in his hands, his elbows supported by his knees. His hair was tousled from what Jonghyun guessed had been fingers going through it in agitation and his figure was hunched in on itself. He didn’t move even a nanometre as Jonghyun cautiously approached the machine and put a few coins in, making it hum as it woke up and went to work.

He glanced back at the dishevelled stranger and felt a pang of compassion. He wondered who it was this young man had visited or worse – lost. The third floor was where the ICU department was, which meant nothing good could have happened.

The machine beeped and he took the paper cup from it, looking down at the contents thoughtfully. He hesitated for a moment, rolling on the balls of his feet, and wondered if he should approach the hunched over figure or not. Most people in the hospital just wanted to be alone in their grief, and Jonghyun was sure this was one of them. However, there was something about this person that made him unable to leave. He didn’t know if it was the way he looked so vulnerable, as if he would crumble to pieces as soon as Jonghyun turned his back and left, or if it was the despair that could practically be seen in the air surrounding him. So, instead of leaving like he should, he took a small breath and sat down beside the stranger, cradling the hot cocoa in his hands nervously. When he didn’t make any indication he had noticed him, Jonghyun cleared his throat softly.

“Uh, hello?” he started uncertainly.

The stranger slowly turned his head towards him, looking dully surprised. Jonghyun bit his lip when he saw the red edges around his eyes and the pained frown above them. He was sure the stranger usually looked quite handsome – with his ruffled, dark brown hair and big dark eyes – but at the moment he just looked crushed. Jonghyun fidgeted awkwardly, not really knowing what to say when he actually got the stranger’s attention. Then a small idea struck him and he wordlessly held up the cup in front of him, offering it to the young man.

He stared at it for a long moment, almost as if he had never seen such a thing before. Jonghyun fidgeted in place again, contemplating whether or not to just get up and leave when the stranger raised a hand lethargically. He accepted the cup with a very silent ‘thank you’ and cradled it in his own hands.

Jonghyun gave him a soft smile, but he didn’t seem to notice. He stared down at the contents in thought before taking a tentative sip. Then he closed his eyes, a silent tear escaping. Jonghyun's breath caught and his eyes widened. He helplessly flailed with his hands for a second, then decided ‘to hell with it!’ and put an arm around the stranger’s shoulders, squeezing lightly.

The stranger stiffened, opening his eyes again to give Jonghyun an incredulous look. He smiled at him awkwardly and gave his back a gentle pat. He knew from experience that saying things like ‘it’ll be okay’, ‘don’t worry’, ‘I’m sure – insert name here – wouldn’t want you to be sad’ etc. had no effect whatsoever other than being annoying. Mostly, people just needed something else to think about for a while – something that wasn’t as painful

“You know, hot cocoa is the best!” Jonghyun blurted. “I mean, it can really warm you up from inside-out. Things like tea and coffee don’t really do that, you know? Also, chocolate makes you feel happy, doesn’t it? I read somewhere in my nan’s magazines that it releases some endorphins or something. That’s why I think you should always drink hot cocoa when you're sad! And–”

He cut off abruptly when there was a small snort from beside him and looked at the stranger to see an incredulous, but slightly amused, expression on his face. Jonghyun smiled sheepishly at him and he shook his head, checking his watch and standing up.

“Idiot,” he murmured in a deep voice, although it didn’t have any bite in it.

Jonghyun chuckled.

“I guess,” he shrugged and the stranger raised his eyebrows at him. Then he gave a small nod in goodbye and disappeared down the corridor towards the elevators.

Jonghyun stared after him for a moment with a small smile on his lips, feeling accomplished. It seemed as if he had managed to help a little at least, he thought as he stood, put few new coins in the machine to get his own cup of hot cocoa and made his way back to his grandmother’s room. It would be nice if the stranger came back and maybe even treated him to something in return.

Yeah, he would very much like that.

~*~

As soon as Minho got the message, he dropped just about everything he held in his hands, ignoring his co-workers’ indignant sounds, and raced to the elevator. He had no time to stop and explain, no time to even put on his coat to protect him from the wind outside. His only thought was to get to the hospital and to Temin’s side with as little interference as possible. Luckily for him, the afternoon rush-hour had just passed and he could drive almost without stopping, furiously screaming at the few red lights that dared obstruct his path.

He finally made it to the hospital’s entrance after what seemed like eons. He screamed at the poor receptionist that no, Taemin didn’t have a family except for him! And no, he didn’t have time for a ing visitor’s badge, because he needed to be with Taemin right now! He even threw a tantrum when they wouldn’t let him into surgery, although the logical part of his brain reasoned with him exactly why they couldn’t. It resulted in him sitting on the floor outside the door to the surgery ward for about five hours, unmoving, uncaring and unseeing. One of the nurses tried to talk to him, console him and tell him it was going to be okay. He wanted to shove her nametag down . Because it was not going to be okay! His Taemin was in surgery! How was that any form of okay?!

Then suddenly, the doors to the surgery ward opened and Minho flew to his feet, making the nurse stumble backwards. He stared with a sinking feeling at the bleak, bruised face of one of the people he cherished the most in the world and quietly, almost instinctively, followed the line of doctors and nurses pushing Taemin's bed up to the third floor and into a bleak, ominous room. There the lead doctor of the surgery had let the bomb drop.

Taemin was in a coma.

The man continued, saying that his condition was stable, but that they didn’t know how long he would be in this comatose state and that he was so very sorry.

Minho wanted to hit the man. How could he let that happen?! He was a doctor! A surgeon! He was supposed to give people life, not put them in comas!

He managed to collect himself enough to force out a ‘thank you’ to the man. The doctor nodded and told him there were some forms he needed to fill out before he went home and left.

Minho was left standing by Taemin's bedside for a long time, staring at the cuts in his face and the cast around his arm. His chest constricted painfully and he couldn’t stop the tears that started running down his cheeks. He hadn’t even noticed them pressing behind his eyes, but suddenly he was very much aware of how close he had been to crying ever since he got the phone call and how incredibly scared he was.

A car had hit Taemin on his way to the grocery store. The driver had been drunk, exceeded the speed limit and ignored the red lights. The doctors said he had almost not made it, as both of his lungs had been punctured by his ribs, his ribcage severely damaged, the bones in his left arm were all broken and he had hit the side of his head on the concrete so hard there had been a crack in his cranium.

They had managed to save him though, and he would be able to live normally, although with a few restrictions. That is, if he ever woke up.

Minho swallowed harshly, feeling like he needed to throw up. Suddenly, the air in the room was suffocating him and he had to get out, get away from the invisible ropes in there that were strangling him. He quickly made his way to the door after leaving a very soft kiss on Taemin's forehead, choking out he would be back as soon as he could, and stepped into the dimly lit corridor. He looked down at his watch, a bit disoriented, and noticed it was already well past midnight.

Leaning heavily against the door, he closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long shaky breath. Then he listlessly made his way over to an ugly green couch further down the corridor and sat down on it, staring at the coffee machine in front of him for a moment without seeing it. He felt so completely lost, his head pounding and an empty feeling weeling up inside his chest, all the way out to his fingertips.

How could this happen?

He was supposed to look after Taemin, to keep him out of trouble. That was the promise he had made when they were still in high school and the boy had run away from home, his alcoholic mother not even bothering to come looking for him. That was the same promise he had made the night his family had unofficially adopted the boy and he started living with them. It was also what he had assured everyone when they went off to college and got an apartment of their own. He was his best friend along with their other childhood friend Jinki and–

Jinki.

Minho groaned when he remembered the three of them were supposed to have dinner that night and pulled out his phone. Sure enough, there were about thirty missed calls and fifteen voicemails from the oldest of them. He took a deep breath to collect himself before pressing the call button, not giving himself the time to think things through and chicken out.

“Minho, where the hell are you?!” Jinki asked angrily, but worriedly, as he picked up halfway through the first signal. “Where’s Taemin?! Do you know what time it is?! You both better have a good explanation for this!”

“Hyung,” Minho croaked out. He heard Jinki cut off abruptly and draw in a small gasp at the devastated tone in his voice.

“Minho, please tell me you both are alright,” he breathed. When Minho remained quiet he took a shaky breath, most likely preparing himself for the worst. “Okay. What happened? Where are you? Are you hurt anywhere? Have you called an ambulance? Is Tae–”

“Hyung,” he interrupted, his voice breaking, and another few tears ran down his cheeks silently. “I’m fine… i-it’s Taemin. He… he was in an accident. We’re in the hospital right now.”

It was quiet on the other end for a moment and he heard Jinki swallow harshly before taking another deep, shaky breath.

“Okay, I’m coming. Which hospital are you in?” he said determinedly and Minho could hear the rustle of clothes and keys jingling.

He gave him the name of the hospital and decided to fill him in on the details in person when he got there. Not even fifteen minutes later a panting Jinki was half running down the corridor as quietly as he could, spotting Minho on the couch. He rushed up to him and demanded to hear every single detail he could offer, his face growing harder the more he was told. When he was done, Jinki abruptly turned around to go to Taemin's room, leaving Minho to once again stare at the coffee machine in despair.

What if he had gone grocery shopping yesterday, like he should have done? What if he hadn’t rescheduled their dinner to work last weekend? What if the grocery store at the corner hadn’t closed and Taemin hadn’t needed to go to the one two blocks down? What if, what if, what if?

Jinki returned after half an hour, saying he had filled out the forms and that they should go home to rest. When Minho began to protest, he assured him they would come back tomorrow. Minho stared at him blankly, hearing the words but not really able to process them, and Jinki sat down beside him to pull him into a hug. They sat like that for a while, clinging to each other in an attempt to not break down, before Jinki hoarsely asked for the keys to the car, since Minho didn’t seem stable enough to drive home. He nodded, pulling them out of his pocket and handing them over. Jinki softly told him he would get the car and meet him at the entrance in ten minutes. Then he was gone.

Minho let out a deep breath, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He stared down at his feet unseeingly, trying not to think of all the ‘what if’s and ‘could have been’s his brain kept coming up with. He sat like that for a few minutes, no other sound around him except for the distant beeps of heart monitors coming from the surrounding rooms while he tried to collect himself enough to get up.

The ding of the elevator distantly registered in his mind and he wondered if he had been sitting there longer than he thought and Jinki had come back to get him. However, the blue, worn out converse that appeared in his vision didn’t belong to his friend. He listened as the stranger put some coins into the coffee machine and how it buzzed with the effort of making the chosen beverage. When the machine was done he saw the converse clad feet hesitate on their way back to the elevators, before suddenly turning to him and approaching, the body they belonged to sitting down beside him on the couch with a soft ‘thump’.

Minho decided to ignore the stranger. The last thing he needed was some do-good-know-it-all to tell him whatever he was going trough would work out in the end. If this stranger wanted to help him they could kindly leave before Minho decided to introduce his fist to their face.

“Uh, hello?” the stranger said after clearing his throat, sounding uncertain.

His voice was gentle and soft, almost like a melody, and he sounded young, around Minho's age. Minho slowly turned his head to look at him, surprised despite himself. His hair was platinum blonde, looking extremely soft and fluffy, his dark eyes were framed by thick lashes and quite big, almost rivalling Minho's own, and he had piercings in both ears, giving a slightly punk look to his otherwise soft appearance.

The stranger watched him quietly for a moment, a small dent appearing on his forehead, before he held up the cup in his hands to Minho's face. He stared at it, wondering what the hell was happening. It took him a while to realize the stranger was offering him whatever it was he had bought and Minho slowly raised his arm to accept the cup, his limbs feeling like they were made out of lead.

“Thank you,” he muttered quietly, cupping both his hands around it. His heart skipped a beat as he stared down at the contents and a lump formed in his throat.

It was hot chocolate.

Taemin's favourite.

He took a sip and closed his eyes, trying to stop the sudden need to cry again, but couldn’t help the stray tear that managed to escape. He whished the stranger wouldn't notice it. He froze when he felt a tentative arm around his shoulders and opened his eyes to look at the stranger incredulously, not at all understanding why he was doing this. He sincerely hoped the stranger wouldn’t start spewing bull like the nurse had done, because he seemed nice enough and Minho didn’t want to have to punch him after he had so kindly given him his chocolate.

“You know, hot cocoa is the best!” the stranger said.

What?

“I mean, it can really warm you up from inside-out. Things like tea and coffee don’t really do that, you know?” Minho didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as the stranger continued blabbering. “Also, chocolate makes you feel happy, doesn’t it? I read somewhere in my nan’s magazines that it releases some endorphins or something. That’s why I think you should always drink hot cocoa! And-”

Minho couldn’t help the soft snort that escaped him and wondered how the stranger had even come up with this topic at all. Discussing it with another stranger even. The blond man smiled at him sheepishly and he shook his head at him, catching sight of the wall clock behind his head. He looked down at his wrist to see that more than fifteen minutes had passed. Jinki was most probably already at the entrance.

He stood up, murmuring a slightly amused ‘idiot’ to the stranger who only chuckled at him.

“I guess,” he answered and Minho raised his eyebrows at him. Who would ever admit to being an idiot?

He decided he didn’t need to worry about that and gave him a small nod in goodbye and thanks before quickly making his way to the elevators and down to the entrance.

He glanced down at the cup in his hand as he exited the elevator and made his way to the entrance, thankful the stranger had managed to stop his wallowing of what could have been for the short moment they had talked – or rather the short moment the stranger had blabbered about chocolate.

There needed to be more people like him, Minho decided.

A/N: Uh, yeah... first chapter >_< I don't have much to say about it, honestly haha

But I hope you liked it!

Love! <3

Bye~!