Summary: Jae visits Yunho in the hospital and gets a shock—or two. Yunho struggles to recover.

 A.N.:  This is only half the chapter I intended to write. OTL It took longer than I thought because there's some emotional stuff that I want to get just right. Yunjae’s at a turning point, so nuance matters. The good news is that we’re DONE with the backstory. Yay! Things heat up a lot after this...

I've decided that I'm going to post shorter chapters. Each chapter will be about half the length they've been in the past, but I'll try to post more often. Hopefully, every week. I think that'll be easier for me.

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Heechul and I walk down the long hospital corridor toward Yunho’s room. The ward bustles with activity. Nurses move with swift efficiency between the rooms, while orderlies push carts of medication and linens past patients trundling their IVs. The colorful walls are bright and cheery, but there’s no escaping the sharp smell of disinfectant. Death happens here, and they can’t conceal it. I don’t like it. I wouldn’t be here if not for Yunho. But my need to make sure he’s okay outweighs my dislike of hospitals. My last glimpse of him was in the clinic, watching his face pale as consciousness slipped away. I need to see him. I need to confirm with my own eyes that he’s alive. I almost lost him.

“Do you think it’s okay we came? I don’t want to intrude.”

Heechul scoffs. “Please. He’ll be thrilled to see us. These are the first open visiting hours he’s had. I bet he’s lonely.”

It’s been a week since Yunho collapsed in the clinic and had emergency surgery. He almost suffocated on the way to the hospital. The glands in his throat had grown huge from some sort of hormonal problem. He must have been in pain for months without saying anything, because the disease was far advanced. His immune system tried to fight it, but the fever and swelling only made it worse. His throat was completely swollen shut, they said. A close call. A very close call.

He’s better now. And he’s had time to rest, so maybe Heechul’s right. Maybe he’s ready for visitors besides his family.

I adjust the knot on my gift. A perfect bow. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed, but I couldn’t afford flowers. So I stayed up all night making Yunho’s favorite: strawberry tarts. They should be a nice break from all the bland hospital food he’s been eating. I hope he likes them.

We stop outside a door marked JUNG YUN HO. Heechul goes in first, rapping lightly on the half-open wooden door before entering.

Inside, Yunho reclines on a railed bed, propped up by a heap of pillows. He’s pale, his hair’s unwashed, and thick bandages swaddle his neck, but his smile is bright. He waves for us to enter. The tension inside me eases, like a hard knot unraveling. My worry vanishes at the sight of his face. He’s okay. Breathe.

Yunho’s elegant mother paces in front of the picture window, talking on a cell phone. A girl with cropped hair and the Jung family features sits by the bed. She’s flipping through a manhwa, looking sulky and bored. She perks up when we walk in, dropping the comic on the bed and staring openly.

“Omo! What pretty ulzzang boys. Who are you?” she asks with interest. She’s examining us from our shoes to our hair, lingering on details like Heechul’s embossed belt buckle. I feel uncomfortable, but Heechul eats it up. He gives her a wink.

Yunho frowns, but says nothing.

His mother lowers her cell phone and snaps, “Jihye! Mind your manners!” before returning to her conversation. She seems to be talking business. Something about “punitive obligations.”

Jihye mutters something under her breath, and then looks back at us.

“I’m sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry. But she speaks formally now. “Please come in. I’m Jung Jihye. This one,” she jerks a thumb at Yunho, “is my brother. You’re friends of his?”

“Yes. I’m Kim Heechul. I’m sure he’s mentioned me.” Jihye looks doubtful, but Heechul sweeps on before she can deny it, “And this is Kim Jaejoong. No relation.”

He continues to banter with the young girl. I can’t seem to do anything but study Yunho, drinking him in. He’s watching Heechul and Jihye go back and forth, resting his head back on the pile of pillows. He looks tired, and his face is a bit thinner than before. I try not to stare, but my starved eyes are busy cataloguing all the changes in him.

Heechul is telling Jihye about our project group. “Yunho, why didn’t you tell your delightful sister about us?”

“He can’t talk.” Jihye ignores the scowl Yunho directs at her.

“Can’t talk? What do you mean?” She has our full attention now.

“From the surgery. They had to cut away a lot of tissue in his throat, I guess. And there might be some damage to his vocal chords, they said. But it’s too soon to tell.”

I look back at Yunho. He shrugs, lifting one shoulder laconically. His expression is stoic, but it’s hard to imagine that he’s not worried about this.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine once the swelling goes down,” Heechul reassures him.

“Of course he will.” Yunho’s mother speaks. She snaps shut her phone case and scrutinizes us. Feels like I’m on trial. Jihye quickly makes introductions. We both bow low. She inclines her head in response. Regal.

“It’s nice of you boys to come by to visit so soon. We’ve kept him company since the surgery, but it’s not the same as being with your friends.” She smiles. “Why don’t we leave you alone for a bit so you can chat? I’m sure Yunho wants to hear all the news from the studio.”

She checks Yunho’s bed to make sure he has everything he needs. Her affectionate hand smoothes back a few strands of hair from his wan face. Her love for her son is almost tangible. It radiates from her as she stoops to kiss his forehead and fuss with his bandages. I can tell she’s reluctant to leave him, but wants to give him some space. Respect for his needs prevails. With a last pat on his leg, she turns and picks up her jacket and purse from the table near the window. “Come, Jihye.”

“I want to stay and hear about the studio.”

“I’m sure you do, but you have homework. Let the boys have some privacy.”

Jihye looks rebellious, but she gets up and follows her mother to the door.

Mrs. Jung smiles at us. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I hope to see you again soon. Have a nice visit with Yunho.” She firmly grasps Jihye’s arm and leaves the room, pulling the reluctant girl along after her.

“Bye, ulzzangs!” Jihye calls over her shoulder as she’s hustled from the room. “See you again soon!”

We’re alone with Yunho. We can relax.

It’s exciting to finally meet Yunho’s family, to get a glimpse of his life outside the studio, but it brings home how different our lives are. His family is wealthy and prominent. He lives in a beautiful house and never wants for anything. His days are filled with people, places, and experiences I know nothing about. That’s his real life, and it happens away from me. Aside from the few hours we spend together at the studio, I must barely register in his thoughts. So much of his daily life has nothing to do with me, yet he’s the most important person in my life. Humbling.

“Whew! Your mother has presence,” says Heechul, throwing himself down on the end of Yunho’s bed. “She’s a lawyer, right?”

Yunho nods.

“I can see it. I’ll bet she’s cutthroat in court.”

Yunho shrugs.

“You really can’t talk at all, huh?” Heechul says, eyeing him. “Not even a little?”

Yunho shakes his head.

“For how long?”

Another shrug.

“You don’t know? Oh.” There’s an awkward silence as the significance of that sinks in. Days, weeks…months? How scary to not know. And could it come at a worse time? Our group is getting so good. Having a member benched would put everyone’s progress on hold. That must bother Yunho, the fear that he might keep us from succeeding. That probably worries him more than his own unclear prospects.

I try to distract him. “Here, Yunho. I made you some strawberry tarts. I hope they turned out okay.”

I walk over to the bed and hand the cloth-wrapped box to Yunho. He nods a thank you and smiles. He unwraps the cloth from around the container and pops the lid.

I don’t have many talents, but I take pride in my cooking skills. It’s the one thing I know I can do well if I put my mind to it. And I worked hard on these tarts. I spent hours decorating them, placing flawless red strawberries atop each tart and piping glaze around them just so. They look delicious, if I do say so myself.

Yunho examines the pretty tarts nestled in the box, and then looks up at me with a pleased smile. He gives me a thumbs-up. I expect him to pop one in his mouth—he’s never been shy about food—but instead he sets the box on the bedside table without having one. I’m puzzled, but then it hits me: of course he can’t eat them with his injured throat. Why didn’t I think of that? Why didn’t I ask him before making the tarts? Stupid. I’m so stupid

There’s another long silence, even more awkward now. Then Heechul speaks. Thank god.

“Well, I for one am not going to waste this opportunity. Here’s our chance to talk without Yunho interrupting to boss us around, Jae. Let’s enjoy it.” He launches into the latest studio gossip, telling stories the way only Heechul can, with snarky asides and devastating personal observations about the people involved.

Yunho lies back and listens, a faint smile on his face. His eyes are half-closed, his exhaustion apparent. As Heechul recounts a recent scandal where a female trainee was caught in the boys’ dorm after lights-out, Yunho blinks a few times and yawns. I look away politely, checking out the room.

A private room in a