– Hey Jonghyun, it’s Jinki. I stole your number from Minho, so don’t think I’m a stalker or anything! Anyway, I just wanted to tell you you’re still very much welcome to dinner. When would be a good time for you? –

Jonghyun stared down at his phone, biting the nail on his thumb as he rested his elbows on the desk. He had told Jinki he would come over for dinner, but he had had two sleepless nights to think about it and he wasn’t so sure it was a good idea anymore. Not that he didn’t want to go, but Minho had clearly come to some kind of conclusion that Jonghyun was annoying and had been treating him as such.

Jonghyun had visited the third floor yesterday as well, his excuse being the hot cocoa although the real reason was just to see if Minho was all right. They had bumped into each other and while Jonghyun had managed to keep a neutral façade, pain prickled his chest with every clipped or snappy answer he got out of Minho. Jonghyun had then realised he really was in too deep and that he was in for a painful rollercoaster ride, which most likely would end in nothing but broken rails and a high drop.

Which was why it was very reasonable for him to want to decline the invitation.

But Jonghyun had never been known to be reasonable.

And now he had a dilemma. Either he went and still tried to befriend both Jinki and Minho (which he kind of really wanted) with the risk of getting seriously hurt or he took the safe, smart route and stayed as far away as he could.

Jonghyun had never been known to be smart either.

He cursed under his breath and slammed both of his fists down, startling Kibum and a guest he was helping. His friend sent him a scowl, before quickly putting his professional face back on and apologizing for the ‘new’ employee.

A long, suffering sigh left Jonghyun, and he pushed his phone away, burying his head in his arms.

All he wanted to do was help. He didn’t need Minho to reciprocate his feelings; he didn’t expect him to either. He just wanted to make sure he would be okay. It would just have hurt a little less if he were going to get rejected by someone less hostile.

He sensed Kibum's presence and turned his head a little to look up at him. Kibum leaned against the desk by his side with crossed arms.

“You wanna tell me why you decided to go Hulk on the table?” Kibum asked, concern leaking through his annoyance.

“I’m a moron,” Jonghyun muttered.

“Is that supposed to be breaking news or something?”

Jonghyun glared at him.

“Okay, okay.” Kibum waved a hand dismissively. “Pray tell, why have you not discovered this until now?”

Jonghyun's glare intensified and he huffed.

“Like I’m telling you,” he grumbled.

Kibum raised an eyebrow and grabbed Jonghyun's chin in a vice grip when he tried to turn away.

“Spit it out, Jonghyun,” he ordered. “We can’t have you making our guests uncomfortable with this nasty attitude.”

Jonghyun grimaced at him but relented with another sigh.

“I’m in too deep and I’m not sure I want to get out.”

Kibum stared at him for a bewildered moment, his eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side.

“Does this have to do with Handsome Guy at the hospital?” he asked.

“Minho,” he mumbled. “And, yeah.”

Kibum's eyes narrowed even further.

“You became too nosy, didn’t you?” he accused.

“I don’t know!” Jonghyun protested. “We were fine one day, but then he must have snapped during the night because the next day he was scowling and barely even looking at me. I can’t even get him to talk to me properly!”

His friend frowned.

“Well, that’s douchey,” he muttered.

“And I thought we were friends!” Jonghyun continued. “I just can’t understand what went wrong, and it hurts, but I can’t let it go!”

Kibum watched him, his arms crossed once again and a deep, concerned frown denting his forehead. Then he sighed and rubbed his face with one hand.

“Jonghyun…” he groaned. “I’ve told you a million times before, you are helpful and empathic to a fault, but you need to learn when to stop.”

“But he’s hurting!”

“And is that your problem?” Kibum asked. “Or your fault even?”

Jonghyun scowled down at his shoes.

“No,” he mumbled.

“Then what’s the point of being so noble and righteous?” Kibum said, sounding exasperated. “I mean, what’s in it for you?”

Jonghyun shrugged half-heartedly.

“I just… want him to be okay, you know?” he mumbled.

Kibum stared at him for a moment before sighing again and cupping his face, squishing it gently.

“There’s only so much you can do,” he said. “If he can’t see what a wonderful person you are, then he’s not worth it. I’m warning you, Jonghyun, something about this doesn’t sit right with me.”

“What?” Jonghyun questioned, frowning.

Kibum squished his face one last time and let go.

“I don’t know, and it irks me,” he grumbled. “Something about the way you talk about him or something, don’t ask!”

Two women approached the front desk and Kibum gave him a pointed look.

“As payment for Dr. Kim Kibum's fine psychological services I suggest you go attend to those ladies over there so I can have a break.” He forcefully pulled Jonghyun out of his chair and pushed him over to the guests. “And lunch wouldn’t be unwelcome either!”

Jonghyun threw him a dirty look over his shoulder before he plastered on a smile and greeted the two women, forcing every thought of Minho to the back of his head.

~*~

A heavy sigh left Minho as he sank lower into the chair by Taemin's bed. A nurse had just been in and jotted down some notes about Taemin's vitals on her clipboard and she had informed him a doctor would come speak to him soon. He had called his parents and they were on their way, neither of the three daring to start hoping the doctor would bring good news. He had called Jinki as well, but he was in a conference out of town and his call had gone straight to voice mail.

He sighed again and stared out the window, watching raindrops race down it, the sky growing darker.

He hadn’t apologized to Jinki yet. It had been three days since their fight and neither of them had really spoken to each other except for last night when Jinki had informed him Jonghyun was apparently coming over for dinner tonight when Jinki got back from his conference. Minho's anger had reared its head again and he had simply walked away and slammed his bedroom door closed.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Jonghyun. He did feel bad about having brushed him off the past couple of days, but he couldn’t bring himself to give Jonghyun a chance when he still didn’t know if Taemin would reject him or not. And it kind of felt a little like cheating since Taemin was in a coma and couldn’t really say anything. Also, Minho knew he felt a whole lot more for Taemin than the budding interest he had in Jonghyun so it was easier to just cut it off before it had the chance to bloom into something else.

He didn’t know what to do about tonight though. It was easy to pretend he didn’t see Jonghyun in the hospital, pretend he couldn’t see his hesitant smile or his lips parting to greet him only to close, face falling once Minho successfully ignored him.

But in his own home? There was nowhere to run. No stairs to duck into, no nurse station to hide behind, and no corner to slip around just in time to hurry down another corridor.

He rubbed his face with a tired groan.

“What should I do, Minnie?” he whispered into his hands, spreading his fingers to peer at the ever still form on the hospital bed. “Why can’t you just wake up? Everything would be so much easier if you did.”

Minho tired to push down the lump in his throat as the door opened and the doctor stepped in, his neutral expression giving nothing away. It sent Minho's heart beating so hard and fast he could barely hear the older man greet him. He wasn’t ready to receive more information yet. He needed to wait for his parents, for Jinki, he would even have Jonghyun there if it meant someone could hold him tethered to the ground. He was too scared to face this alone.

He barely managed to open his mouth before the doctor spoke, clearly not caring about Minho's distressed state.

“Mr. Choi,” the doctor said evenly, although not entirely unkind, “Mr. Lee has been in a coma for nearly a week and statistics state that after a week, the chances for a full recovery lessen.”

Minho could only stare at him, breath caught in his lungs and body growing numb.

“Now, I am not saying you have to decide right this moment,” the doctor continued and hesitated. “However, your family should start thinking of alternative actions if Mr. Lee does not recover. There are some pamphlets about organ donation and…”

Minho stopped listening, his entire body numb by now and his vision blurring. The first few tears silently slid down his cheeks and he could barely make out the doctor telling him he would give him a few moments alone through the white noise in his ears. He didn’t react as the doctor left, but his eyes shifted to Taemin's face and a shaky sob escaped him. An empty void opened in his chest and like a black hole it everything in, feelings, sound, thought, sight. Everything but Taemin's pale face and the beeping of his heart monitor, which indicated he was still alive. The doctor still hadn’t turned it off.

Time stretched out as he sat savouring every beep, imprinting it to memory in case it would be the last time he ever heard it as he watched Taemin's expressionless face.

Minho didn’t know how, but he suddenly realised he was back home in his hallway. He couldn’t remember how he’d left the hospital, if his parents had come, if a decision had been made. Had he driven himself home? How had the door opened? Where was Jinki? What time was it?

He stared down at his shoes, knowing he needed to untie them and pull them off, but the thought was distant and fleeting, into the black hole like everything else, and he ended up just standing where he was, unseeing, unfeeling, and empty, white noise louder than ever before.

Then there was a ringing.

He wasn’t sure if it was something in his mind or if it had come from the outside world and he didn’t really care.

Only loud banging followed the ringing and it grated on Minho's ears. He frowned; thought and feeling seeping back into his limbs and head drop by tiny drop as he turned to answer the door.

A panting, dripping Jonghyun stood on the other side.

Minho just stared at him dumbly, but feeling was flowing back into him like a crook now, which widened into a river, which ended up in a waterfall, and thought crashed back into his brain.

“What…?” he managed to croak.

Jonghyun hesitated before he stepped over the threshold and pulled the door closed behind him.

“I–,” he paused and swallowed. “A nurse told me what happened.”

He took a step closer.

“I just wanted to make sure… to know…” he whispered.

Something snapped in Minho at the concern in Jonghyun's eyes, the affection he could see there.

“Why the is that any of your business?” he growled and Jonghyun winced.

“I… well…”

“I don’t need your sympathy and I sure as hell don’t want it!” he nearly yelled and Jonghyun looked scared for a moment. “Why do you keep getting involved in that doesn’t concern you, huh?!”

“I just want to help!” Jonghyun shot back. “You looked like you needed someone to talk to so I talked to you! But you just go and give me the could shoulder, even if I never have asked for anything in return!”

“Then why are you here?!” Minho was yelling now and felt a pang of guilt when he saw tears gather in Jonghyun's eyes. But he continued anyway, too angry to let it go. “If I am so ing horrible, why do you still hang around?!”

“Because I fell in love with you,” Jonghyun whispered, biting his lip in an obvious attempt to keep the tears in.

Minho paused to stare at him, puzzled.

“What?” he choked out after a silent moment of shock.

“I’m trying, I’m willing and I’m here, Minho,” Jonghyun said quietly, voice shaking. A tear spilled over and slid down his cheek.

“You… you can’t be in love with me…”

All fight suddenly left Minho and his shoulder slumped. This was so much more complicated than he’d thought.

“Because you’re in love with Taemin, right?” Jonghyun whispered unevenly.

Minho froze.

“You know?”

Jonghyun let out a watery laugh.

“It’s kinda hard to miss. You always end up talking about him and when you do… god,” he sniffled. “When you do, your whole face gets a different glow.”

Minho could only stare at him.

“I don’t expect anything from you, Minho,” Jonghyun continued, managing to calm down and drying his cheeks with the back of his hand. “But that's why I'm not leaving you alone.”

~*~

Jonghyun looked on dazedly as Minho brought out ingredients for hot cocoa on his insistence.

He had thought it was going to be a normal visit to the hospital as he left work that afternoon. He was going to see his grandmother, chat with the nurses he knew, maybe see if he couldn’t at least get Minho to speak to him in more than monosyllables.

Once he had entered the hospital, though, something seemed off. Call it premonition or whatever, but something was in the air. Then nurse Park, who was one of the nurses he knew best, came up to him and told him she had new info on Taemin's situation.

Jonghyun's heart had sunk and he had dropped his umbrella as she told him a doctor had spoken to Minho about ending Taemin's life support and donating his organs for research or whatnot, and there had been only one thought in his mind at that moment.

He had been out of the hospital before he knew it, calling over his shoulder to the nurse to tell his grandmother something had come up, not even remembering to grab the umbrella he had dropped. Endlessly glad Jinki had sent him the address to the apartment and that Jonghyun had had the foresight to look it up on a map, he had sprinted off down the sidewalk, weaving in-between people. He had arrived at the door to the apartment in less than twenty minutes, hesitating for a fraction of a second before knocking.

Minho had looked completely lost and unaware as the door swung open, his mind seemed as if it was light years away, eyes unfocused and face blank. But then something had seemed to register and his eyes had focused on Jonghyun, sending a flood of relief through him.

It had been short-lived however as anger had seemed to take over, and okay, Jonghyun could admit to putting his nose where it didn’t belong, but it still hurt to have it thrown at his face so viciously.

Then it had just slipped out.

He was in love with Minho.

He hadn’t expected anything other than rejection, which was what he got, but it didn’t stop the twinge in his chest.

And now they were in the kitchen, Jonghyun preparing hot cocoa, which both of them desperately needed, and Minho watching absently. They didn’t speak as they watched the milk boil. Nor when Jonghyun poured the chocolate powder into it and it swirled together with the milk. Neither when they both sat down at the table, steaming cup in hand.

They were both halfway through their drinks when Minho finally looked up at him, his eyes red and his jaw clenching and unclenching.

“I…” he rasped. “I can’t do it…”

Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over and it took every ounce of Jonghyun's willpower to not get up and hug him. He tightened his grip around his cup instead and remained silent.

“I don’t want to do it… I don’t…”

Minho's words dishevelled into hitching breaths and shuddering sobs, and it pierced right through Jonghyun.

And he couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up, rounded the table and pulled Minho into him. It was a little awkward, as Minho was still sitting down, but Jonghyun ignored it in favour of combing his fingers through his hair soothingly, the other hand rubbing gentle circles into his back as Minho's tears stained his pullover, which was already damp from the rain. He let Minho cry against his chest, not saying anything, only holding him close to keep him steady in the present and give him warmth.

When Minho started to nod off, he managed to coax him to bed. He still let tears fall silently and Jonghyun didn’t really want to leave him like this. He hesitated but decided he could face the consequences in the morning, and hugged Minho closer as he laid down together with him, continuing to comb his giners through his hair until he fell into a deep sleep.

Jonghyun sighed and pulled back to watch Minho, the dried tear tracks on his cheeks and the dishevelled state of his entire being. Then he pulled him to his chest again, cradling his head and shoulders gently.

He really wished he had a dandelion at the moment to send his wishes to an angel, because he was wanting with all of his being for everything to be okay.

A/N: This was kinda sad... I dunno... It will be sad like this sometimes, but I guess that is what to be expected with the situation Minho is in. Don't hate me too much...

Nothing's proofread either, but I hope you liked it?

Love <3

Bye~!