i can tell you know what it's like / save me

[tw: mentions of self-harm]

In his sleep Hanbin’s hand had clasped onto hers. It felt warm and comfortable, just like she had remembered.

Jennie lays in bed, the TV on the wall playing in the background. She glances from the melodrama on the screen to Hanbin’s sleeping, unable to hear anything but his gentle snores. Even with his body contorted into the bulky metal chair he still sleeps so soundly. She wonders if he’s been sleeping well lately. If the dark circles under his eyes are any indication, she doubts that he has.  

A thought comes to mind and she carefully lifts the cuff of his sleeves, peeking at the delicate skin of his wrist. With a small frown she lowers his sleeve again—he stirs but doesn’t immediately wake.

As if she hadn’t moved at all, Jennie lets her head fall back onto the limp hospital pillow. Her eyes are glued to the TV screen but she’s unable to process what’s in front of her.

Hanbin grumbles out her name as he shifts in the chair. Her skin tingles.

She glances at him as his eyes slowly open, his other hand moving to wipe away the sleep. He studies her carefully, like he’s deciding whether or not she’s really there.

“Hi, Hanbin.”

“Hi, Jennie.” He responds with a light laugh. He turns his head to look around the room. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long,” she lies.

“Ah, really?” Hanbin nods absently, turning his gaze back onto her. He notices their conjoined hands, looking at her with questioning eyes.

“You reached for me when you were sleeping,” She explains. She doesn’t tell him that he kept repeating her name, his forehead creased and lips trembling.  

“I’m sorry.” He lets go, and seems like he’s about to say more before getting distracted. His brows knit together in worry. She follows his line of sight to a big angry splotch on her arm. “What happened, Jen?”

She knows where his train of thought is headed. It makes her already nauseous stomach feel even queezier than usual.

“Ah, this? I’m not really sure.” She lifts her arm up nonchalantly. “My immune system’s all ed up now so I’ve been bruising like a banana.”

“Is that so?” His face relaxes, but the concern in his still in his eyes. “I don’t want you to meet someone who will hit you again. You and that guy both feel like you deserve it when you get hurt.”

“Did Hayi… tell you?” He nods. “You two must be getting along really well lately. How is she?”

Hanbin shifts in his seat. The chair creaks with his movement.

“She’s… good.”

“That’s good.” She hopes he doesn’t hear the quiver in her voice.

“I missed her so much. Sometimes it’s like we’re kids again.” He gives her a small, sad smile. “But things aren’t perfect. Not that I thought they would be.”

“I know what you mean.” She’d felt like that when she had first met Minho again. It was like over the time he’d been away he had gone from her childhood friend to a stranger. Not for a long time did they feel close again.

“Jennie.” Hanbin calls out to her, his voice strong and steady. “You know, at first I thought I wouldn’t ever be able to love you like I loved Hayi. But now I find myself wondering if I could ever love Hayi like I love you.”

With a large hand he reaches out to her and gently caresses her cheek. Jennie wishes she could pretend reality isn’t all around them—the scent of antiseptic isn’t thick in the air, the walls aren’t blindingly white, there isn’t an IV in her arm.

He leans forward and kisses her. Her eyes flutter shut at the pleasant pressure. His lips are soft and warm.

When he draws away she tries not to get lost in his heady brown-eyed gaze. It’s everything. It’s everything she’s ever wanted. (It’s everything, everything all at once.)

She feels suffocated: she can’t breathe, and it’s not just the respiratory infection.

“Hanbin, you should probably leave.”