Lightning flashed across Dongwoon’s field of vision, making him pull back in numbing pain. Bursts of green and yellow danced through the air and he tried to shake it off, his lips and reaching for a cup of water.

He felt around the blankets for Mir’s hand, finding it with relief. The water chilled his burning throat as he watched over the slumbering figure, a strange sense of calm coming from the repetitive, even beeps of the heart rate monitor.

Thunder roared across the horizon, sending tremors through the walls. Dongwoon set the cup down, having drained all of its contents. “You should be quieter,” he muttered to the raging storm, “you’ll disrupt him.” He absently ran his lips across Mir’s slender fingers, pausing at the edge of his pinky. “C’mon…I want to hear your voice again,” Dongwoon whispered, voice cracking, “I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until now.”

Silent, jagged streaks of light cut the black sky. He stood up, closing the curtains with a huff. Quickly, he returned to Mir’s side, angling away from the rest of the office so he could focus more on the helpless boy.

“I hear that unconscious people can still hear people talking to them,” Dongwoon remarked, “so I hope you don’t mind if I talk to you. I bet you think I’m just being paranoid, but I don’t want to fall asleep knowing that I’ll wake up and just maybe…,” he forced the lump in his throat down, “maybe that beeping won’t be in the back of my mind anymore – that maybe I’ll wake up to silence instead of your beating heart.”

He nodded to himself, and reached out with both hands, bringing Mir’s limp one close to the seam of his lips. “If you don’t wake up, then I have to wonder what the point in saving you was. If I can’t see you happy, then there’s no point in seeing you.” Dongwoon released a slow, low breath. “I know it’s selfish. I know that…but I don’t want to ever see you desperately fighting like that again. You shouldn’t have to try so hard, Mir.”

“I can never know what you went through back then,” he squeezed his clasped hands gently, bowing his head, “but I know you went through enough to deserve better than that person. He wasn’t worth your life. No one, not even me, is worth your life. Why did you have to try so hard to protect him? Do you love him that much?”

Dongwoon barked out a laugh, dry and humorless. “Anyone who asks for your life and then tosses it aside the next second…I just don’t know what to say.”

There was movement.

He jumped a bit, turning to see Mir’s face twisted in emotions. “You can hear me?” Dongwoon whispered, leaning down to press a cooling kiss to the boy’s crinkled brow. The contorted features relaxed slightly, and Mir’s breathing began evening out again. “Sorry, I’ll stop talking about you-know-who,” he apologized, resting his head on the blankets, continuing to toy with the patient’s fingers.

“…I’ve never told anyone this, but with you – for you­ – I can break the chain.” Dongwoon took a steadying breath, eyes focused on the limp movement of Mir’s hand. “I’ve always been the bystander, the extra. I was born in a foster home and then I was sent here. Before, I used to be thankful for such a boring upbringing. Other times, I would become jealous of people with extraordinary stories. There’s nothing special or meaningful that makes me shine above the others. I stuck out for the wrong reasons and I disappeared from sight for the wrong reasons.”

“There’s never really been an in between for me and I got angry so often because of it. I would pray for something to make me stand out, but it just never came. Why wouldn’t it come? Why wouldn’t the world throw me a chance to become something great? Those were the types of questions that ran through my head for a long time.”

He smiled hesitantly, eyelids lowering over the warm hand in his. “But then a year ago I walked into the Tech Shop and was greeted by a certain puppy-like boy. He was guarded but just so darn cute…I wanted to tackle him on sight. I didn’t of course. From there, I got to know the puppy and learned so many interesting things, sometimes sad and other times happy.”

“After a year, I realized why my prayers were never answered,” Dongwoon pressed another sweet kiss to the boy’s hand, “it’s because I’m everything you’re not. You’re everything I’m not. In this way, we end up making the perfect soul. That’s what the world is looking for right? Perfection…”

He shrugged a bit, chuckling lightly, “To me it makes sense. I hope it makes sense for you too, someday.” Dongwoon yawned, finding a comfortable place to rest his head. “I wonder how many times I’ll say these things to you who isn’t fully listening. I don’t mind though. It’s my own fault for being scared. If I weren’t so terrified of you running away, I would say these things somewhere beautiful where just the two of us would be. But when will that happen? I doubt it’ll happen.” He sighed, “I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. Goodnight, Mir.”

Dongwoon’s soft snores danced around the air. Fair locks of hair fell across his handsome face, looking absolutely picture perfect to the awake boy.

“Goodnight, Dongwoon,” Mir answered quietly, smiling faintly. I’m scared too…so don’t worry. I hear you…and I’ll wait to hear you say it again and again and again…