Did Han Jaeheon really have no feelings for him at all? Eunseo knew he wasn’t quick on the uptake and didn’t read people’s feelings well — like how he’d only realized Jin Seunghu’s feelings very late — but even if he couldn’t be certain this wasn’t a delusion, he thought there was definitely something.
“Why are you looking at me like that.”
If I were an omega — no, if I am an omega… could we redefine our relationship? Could you think of me… even a little… as someone you like a little? By the magic of the dark-settled night, the efficacy of the painkiller coursing through his veins, and the emotional part shaken by the great accident, Eunseo barely held back words that were about to burst out with no filter. If he said it now, he’d surely regret it.
“…Do you know how long I have to stay in the hospital?” “Plan on about a week. It can be extended depending on your condition.” “A whole week?”
As Eunseo ran through administrative procedures in his head — whether he could use sick leave, whether he had to use vacation, or… — Jaeheon grabbed his chin again.
“Don’t worry about that stuff, just get better.” “…Yes.”
Jaeheon, who had looked Eunseo over from the top of his forehead to the tip of his chin several times as if licking, slowly let go of his hand.
Is he leaving, I wish he’d stay… just a little longer.
“Are you… going now?”
Having said what he would never have said normally, Eunseo regretted it. He didn’t want to lean on him, and yet there was no one but him to lean on. Into this life where being alone had been so natural, Han Jaeheon had come striding in with his shoes on, as he pleased, and made it so there was no one but him.
“I have to leave at 4 AM. I have to go crush those bastards.” “Ah…”
Jaeheon cursed, smiling as if it were nothing.
“It’s 2 AM now.”
Jaeheon pulled the chair over and sat again. Without realizing it, Eunseo felt glad there were about two hours left, and groaning, tried to shift his body to the side. It wasn’t much time, but he wanted him to lie down a bit before he went. As he did that like a caterpillar, Jaeheon laughed and pulled Eunseo back to lie properly in the middle.
“Just stay. I don’t have the presence of mind to lie down anyway.” “…Yes.” “There’s a guardian’s bed too.”
But Jaeheon sat in the chair as he was, with no sign of even pulling out the guardian’s bed. Eunseo twitched the hand he’d taken out from under the blanket, covered in bandages. It hurt, and because it hurt, just a little… His face flushing, he barely opened his mouth.
“Um…” “What’s wrong?” “My hand… could you… hold it a little?”
Belated fear washed over him at his words — that he could have died without even remembering any of this. His fingers froze and cold sweat beaded on his palms. As he rubbed the dampness on the blanket, feeling grossed out himself, Jaeheon took his hand and gripped it hard enough to hurt the wounds.
But Eunseo didn’t want to say it hurt. He wanted him to keep holding it like this, and keep holding it.
***
After two knocks, the hospital room door opened, and the team leader came in with a dark face, holding a fruit basket. Eunseo, whose dizziness had mostly subsided so he could get up now, lowered his feet from the bed, and the team leader waved him off.
“Just stay.” “Ah, yes… team leader, how did you come all the way here?” “I came yesterday too. A team member got hurt in a factory accident and got hospitalized — I couldn’t not come.” Wiping his haggard face with a handkerchief, the team leader set the basket on the table. Unlike a multi-bed room full of just beds, the single room was spacious and pleasant, with a few pieces of furniture in it.
“Yes. I’m all right.”
Only this morning did Eunseo roughly learn what had happened. An article had come out saying that a tank storing raw materials had exploded due to the mistake of outsourced personnel inspecting the factory equipment, and because of it the outsourced worker had died on the spot and two researchers caught up in it were in critical condition.
Thinking it fortunate that no one else had been caught up besides the two, Eunseo still got goosebumps realizing he’d nearly died if he hadn’t been hit by the iron plate and thrown. Because it was flammable material, the fire had been fairly large, but thanks to the plate blocking it, he hadn’t been burned.
“I got dragged up to Seoul and back since morning.” “Why Seoul?” “The executive director was furious to the top of his head and ordered a factory audit, so all the related people got called in.” “…So there’s an audit?” “Don’t even talk about it. You should have seen the executive director getting angry here yesterday. We’re lucky it ended at an audit.”
The team leader, looking unwell, sweated despite the still-chilly weather and wiped it with his handkerchief several times. He looked pale enough that his own face looked better than the face of the person lying there caught up in the accident. He took a banana from the fruit basket he’d brought and ate it, sighing.
“He told them to find the person responsible right away, and to bring him a grasp of the situation whenever, it doesn’t matter… how do I put it, a cold fire? His voice doesn’t rise at all, but it’s scary, I tell you…”
“I should have been more careful too…” “If being careful prevented accidents, they wouldn’t happen in the first place.”
The team leader took out a banana for Eunseo too. Dizzy, he’d barely eaten breakfast, so he was hungry and took it gladly.
“Was the executive director here all yesterday?” “Pardon? …Yes.”
This wasn’t a place out of people’s sight, so there seemed no need for a pointless lie. It seemed a bit much, but it didn’t seem like anything that could become a big problem. The fact that he and Jaeheon were school senior and junior, and that he’d acted as if they were a bit close, helped at times like this.
“I did think he seemed to cherish his employees quite a bit…” The team leader trailed off, as if it was still a bit much. Eunseo glanced away from the team leader’s face and just kept the banana in his mouth.
“How long do they say you have to be hospitalized?” “They’re talking about a week. I had the re-examination this morning and no other problems were found, so I heard I can be discharged once the wound on my head heals a bit.” “Right. He said to process it as paid sick leave, so rest without worrying. The handover’s almost done, so fortunately there’s no gap in the work.”
The team leader let out a relieved breath. Knowing that when an accident like this broke out at the company, all sorts of people suffered, Eunseo thought it was rather fortunate to be standing in the eye of the storm. If he’d been just off to the side, he’d have been completely swept up, doing all sorts of paperwork and writing countermeasure reports.
“So you’ll be back at work next Monday?” “Yes, if nothing else comes up.” “Right, got it.”
Following the team leader as he rose, Eunseo tried to lower his feet from the bed too, but he firmly refused, so Eunseo saw him off sitting up in bed. It was awkward, but his refusal was stronger.
Even though the team leader normally didn’t like making conversation, Eunseo wished he’d stayed a little longer… Strangely, at home time passed well even doing nothing, but at the hospital time really didn’t pass. Well, his phone was gone, so he couldn’t even read internet articles — it was stifling.
“When I’m discharged, I have to go buy a phone first.”
He’d only just replaced it — what a waste. Thinking of the installment payments still remaining made his stomach churn. Sighing low, Eunseo moved his fingers one by one. Each time, the wounds on the backs of his hands pulled and pain flared.
The first thought of Eunseo, his reason returned upon seeing the empty hospital room that morning, was whether he’d been found out as an omega. Alpha and omega traits were something the parties could recognize in each other very easily.
And yet, due to the anti-discrimination law, they were protected as personal information, and writing them down anywhere was prohibited. Even at the company, no one except the owner and designated HR staff could view that information.
But he’d thought it might be disregarded in the special space of a hospital, and fortunately nothing revealed that he was an omega anywhere. He’d asked the doctor obliquely, but only got back that his trait wasn’t currently under consideration. It was hard to even say it hadn’t been mentioned.
Going to different hospitals based on trait was for when there was a pheromone abnormality or a pregnancy-related problem, one of the two, and in those cases you had to find an alpha-omega specialist hospital.
“I was going to tell him anyway, so it doesn’t matter if I’m found out…” Still, he wanted to say it with his own mouth. “…Can I really say it.”
He simulated the results, but they weren’t very positive. Most led to blame and disappointment, and the chance of this relationship breaking was high — the chance of it going in a good direction was very small. About to mutter to himself again, Eunseo shut his mouth. Being alone, he’d been muttering into thin air so often it was a problem.
And yet Eunseo wanted to tell him. He couldn’t help it even if it was selfish. Jaeheon’s kindness made it so hard to carry this secret alone.
“…I miss him.”
At the words that slipped out without his knowing, and those words flowing back into his ears, the longing doubled. In the absurd storm of emotion, Eunseo went blank for a moment. Not knowing how time passed, he just moved his gaze, chasing the long incoming sunlight’s movement, when at the sound of knocking he slowly turned his head. Without even saying “come in,” the door clicked open, and Han Jaeheon came in wearing a well-tailored charcoal-gray suit.
“Are you feeling a bit better?” “Hello.” “What’s wrong. Your eyes are vacant.”
Frowning, he came closer and took Eunseo’s chin and turned it this way and that. Eunseo hadn’t thought Jaeheon would come here again. He’d figured he’d see him later when he was discharged and went back to Daejeon…
“Are you dizzy or in pain or feeling like you’ll throw up?” “Ah… no, I’m not.”
Jaeheon sat in the chair with a relieved sigh. Eunseo, who kept staring at him fascinated, let out a gasp of admiration. The orange sunset light coming through the window stroked Jaeheon’s cheek so softly, and the shadow cast on his still-pained-looking furrowed eyes was absurdly pitiful.
“Someone’s worried about you, and you’re just spaced out like that, Senior.” With nothing to answer, he just swallowed dryly, and Jaeheon, as if he didn’t really want an answer, took his sticky gaze away.
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