Left in Triage

by lykyoutoo

Summary:

Jun loved Dylan, he knew that.

But when love was weighed against duty—

Jun never chose him.

Notes:

My Ambulance inspired (watch it if you haven’t yet)

Dylan had always been light.

Not just in the way he smiled—bright, uninhibited—but in the way he lived, with a kind of ease that made the world seem a little less heavy. Even when things were bad, Dylan had a way of carrying them lightly, of turning everything into something fun, into something easier to hold.

Jun had always been the opposite. Stoic, reserved, composed. A man who carried the world on his back and never let anyone see when it got too heavy.

Yet somehow, they worked.

Eight years together, and Dylan still wasn’t sure exactly how .

 

Dylan liked to say their relationship started because he annoyed Jun into loving him. It wasn’t far from the truth.

Jun had been a medical student when they first met, and Dylan had just started making a name for himself as a music producer. Their worlds couldn’t have been more different—Dylan, with his chaotic energy, late-night music sessions, and his ability to befriend anyone within seconds. And Jun, quiet, focused, and seemingly immune to distractions; But Dylan had never been one to back down from a challenge. He had met Jun at a mutual friend’s party, where Jun had been sitting in the corner with a book, seemingly unbothered by the noise around him. It was fascinating to Dylan, how someone could be so unaffected. So, naturally, he had plopped down beside him, grinning as he introduced himself.

Jun barely looked up. “You’re blocking my light.”

Dylan had laughed. “Wow. You’re fun.”

Jun didn’t reply, just turned a page.

But Dylan was persistent. And somehow, over time, Jun started answering his texts. Started showing up to coffee dates where Dylan talked too much and Jun listened in his quiet, steady way. Dylan would tease him, poke at his inexpressiveness, call him “Mr. Poker Face” and Jun would just sigh in that exasperated way Dylan later grew to love.

They fit together in a strange, unexpected way—Dylan, all sunshine and chaos, and Jun, the calm, unwavering presence that kept him grounded.

But there was one thing Dylan had learned early on: Jun’s work would always come first.

 

The first thing Dylan did when he woke up was check for Jun. His side of the bed was empty, the covers barely disturbed. Which meant Jun had either never come to bed or had left before sunrise. Again. Dylan groaned, rubbing at his face as he forced himself up. The apartment was too quiet, the morning light filtering in through the blinds as he made his way to the kitchen.

Sure enough, Jun’s untouched coffee sat on the counter, a note next to it in neat, precise handwriting:

Emergency surgery. Be back late. Don’t wait up.

Dylan snorted, picking up the cup. It was still warm. Meaning Jun had literally poured himself coffee, written a note, and walked out the door without taking a single sip.

It was ridiculous. But so Jun.

Dylan sighed, grabbing his phone.

DYLAN (8:07 AM)

one day ur gonna drop dead  in the OR and i’m gonna be like “yep i saw that coming”

No response. Not that Dylan expected one. Still, he busied himself with his routine—brewing fresh coffee, fixing something quick to eat. The thing about loving Jun was that it meant taking care of him before he even realized he needed taking care of.

By noon, Jun still hadn’t texted back, which was also very Jun. So Dylan packed a lunch, shoved it into a paper bag, and made his way to the hospital.

 

Jun wasn’t hard to find.

Dylan didn’t need directions or a visitor’s pass. After all, this wasn’t the first time he had shown up unannounced, armed with real food instead of whatever sad excuse for a meal Jun was going to ignore.

The nurses at the station barely blinked at his arrival.

“Oh, hey Dylan!” one of them greeted.

“Hey” Dylan said, flashing a grin. “Jun in?”

She nodded. “Surgery just ended. He should be in his office.”

Dylan gave her a finger heart and a kissy face, then made his way down the hall, knocking twice before pushing the door open.

And there was Jun.

Still in his scrubs, deep in a file, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration. He barely glanced up before muttering, “Give me five minutes.”

Dylan rolled his eyes, stepping inside anyway. “You say that, but I’m pretty sure I could sit here for an hour and you wouldn’t even notice.”

Jun finally looked at him. Blinked. “What are you doing here?”

Dylan dropped the paper bag onto Jun’s desk. “Saving you from a premature death. Eat.”

Jun glanced at the bag. Then at Dylan. “I’m not hungry.”

Dylan huffed, dragging a chair closer. “Don’t care. Eat anyway.”

Jun sighed but didn’t argue. Which meant he was actually starving and just being stubborn about it. He pulled out the sandwich Dylan had made and took a bite, chewing slowly.

Dylan watched him, arms crossed. “You’re welcome.”

Jun gave him a dry look. “Didn’t say thank you.”

“Yeah, well. Your continued survival is all the thanks I need.”

Jun rolled his eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

Dylan had spent years learning how to read Jun’s quiet affections. A glance. A twitch of his mouth. The way his shoulders relaxed just the slightest bit when Dylan was near. To anyone else, Jun might seem cold. But Dylan knew better. And Jun knew Dylan knew better. Which was probably why he didn’t complain when Dylan propped his chin in his hands and just watched him eat , like some kind of proud mother hen.

“I’m fine, you know,” Jun said after a moment. “You don’t have to check on me.”

“Sure sure. That’s why you looked like you were about to pass out before I got here, right?”

Jun huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he finished his sandwich, sanitized his hands, and finally leaned back in his chair.

Dylan grinned. “See? Food. Good. Basic survival. You’re welcome, hun.”

Jun sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t deserve you.”

Dylan smirked. “Damn right, you don’t.”

Jun gave him a long, exasperated look before shaking his head, the smallest laugh slipping out.

And that. That tiny laugh, the slight softening of Jun’s eyes—that was all Dylan needed.

Because this was what love was.

Jun saved lives. Dylan saved Jun.

And as long as they had that, everything was fine.

 

***

 

Dylan had always been good at expecting less.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want more. He did, actually. He wanted the whole stupid, cheesy, over-the-top kind of love. The kind where his boyfriend surprised him with flowers for no reason, or whisked him away on last-minute weekend trips, or—hell—just texted him back in a reasonable amount of time. But he knew who he was dating. Jun was stoic, logical, married to his work.

And Dylan had long accepted that if he wanted romance, he’d have to settle for the bare minimum.

Which was why, when he decided to ask Jun about Valentine’s Day, he was already prepared for disappointment. 

 

It was late—well past dinner—by the time Jun got home. Dylan was curled up on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, earbuds in as he sifted through demos. The door clicked open, and he immediately yanked a bud out.

“You ate, right?” he called out.

Jun sighed as he loosened his tie, tossing his bag onto the counter. “Yeah.”

“Liar.” Dylan snorted. “You probably had coffee for dinner.”

Jun didn’t confirm or deny it, which was as good as a confession.

Dylan rolled his eyes but didn’t push. Instead, he hesitated—fingers tapping against the keyboard before finally shutting his laptop.

Now or never.

“So,” he started, keeping his voice casual, “you free next week?”

Jun glanced at him, tugging off his watch. “For what?”

Dylan chewed his lip. Play it cool. “Valentine’s Day.”

Jun blinked. Then—just as expected—he sighed, running a hand down his face. “Dylan…”

“No, no, I’m not asking for some big fancy thing,” Dylan cut in quickly, grinning. “No candlelit dinner, no ridiculous bouquet. Just… I dunno. A date. Maybe a normal meal together for once?”

Jun exhaled. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”

And that was it. 

Just a simple, noncommittal answer. No promises. No excitement.

But Dylan still lit up.

Because Jun hadn’t immediately said no . And that? That was already a win.

“Okay,” Dylan said, beaming. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

 

The next day, at the hospital. Jun wasn’t thinking about Valentine’s Day. He was thinking about his patients, about his never-ending to-do list, about the six hours of sleep he probably wouldn’t be getting tonight. So when his co-worker, Pepper, suddenly whacked him in the arm with a clipboard, he barely reacted.

“Hey, dumbass.” Pepper said.

Jun sighed. “What.”

Pepper crossed her arms. “Tell me you said yes.”

Jun blinked. “To what?”

“Valentine’s Day.” Pepper said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Tell me you said yes to your boyfriend.”

Jun frowned. “I said I’d check my schedule.”

Pepper groaned. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

Pepper looked at him like he was the dumbest man alive. “It’s Dylan asking, not some random person.”

Jun sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know my schedule’s packed.”

“You also know you can make time if you actually try.”

Jun didn’t answer. Because, okay. Pepper had a point. Could he afford to take a night off? Probably not. Would Dylan ask again if he said no? Probably not.

Pepper sighed. “Look, I get it. You’re a big, important doctor saving lives or whatever. But you know what else is important? Dylan. The guy who’s been putting up with your emotionally constipated ass for eight years.”

Jun exhaled. He knew Dylan had never asked for much. He knew Dylan never made him feel guilty for prioritizing work. He knew Dylan wouldn’t resent him if he had to say no.

And yet.

Yet.

When Jun checked his watch, he realized he didn’t actually want to say no.

“Fine,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “I’ll go.”

Pepper smirked. “Good choice, doc.”

And Jun hated that he was right.

 

Jun didn’t make a big deal out of it. He wasn’t the type to do grand gestures or make a show of things. So when he told Dylan they’d go on their date, it was simple, said over coffee in the morning like it was just another thing on his to-do list.

“I’m free on the 14th.” Jun said, setting his mug down.

For a second, Dylan didn’t react. He just stared at Jun like he wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. Then— “Wait, really?”

Jun hummed. “Yeah.”

The bright, beaming grin Dylan gave him made the little sacrifice feel worth it.

 

For the next week, Dylan threw himself into planning. Every night, he’d sit beside Jun on the couch, scrolling through restaurants and places to go.

“This one!” Dylan said excitedly, shoving his phone in Jun’s face. “They have those little heart-shaped steaks for couples.”

Jun barely glanced up from his medical journal. “That’s stupid.”

Dylan gasped dramatically. “It’s cute! You have no romance in your soul, I swear to god.”

Jun only hummed, unconcerned.

Dylan rolled his eyes, but he didn’t stop. “Okay, okay, what about this place? Oh—wait, no, that’s too far. Oh! What if we go to—”

Jun just let him talk.

Because the truth was, it didn’t really matter where they went. What mattered was Dylan’s excitement, the way his eyes lit up as he planned every little detail.

And maybe, just maybe, Jun was starting to look forward to it too. 

 

February 14th.

For the first time in forever, Jun left work on time.

Dylan practically bounced in excitement when Jun picked him up, grabbing onto his arm. “You’re actually here. You’re not secretly a hologram, right?”

Jun gave him a dry look. “I said I’d come.”

“I know, but still!” Dylan squeezed his hand, pulling him along. “C’mon, c’mon, before our reservation gets canceled.”

The restaurant was nice, warm and dimly lit, candles flickering at every table. Dylan had chosen a small, cozy place —not too fancy, not too crowded. Just them, tucked into a quiet little corner of the world for the night.

And for a while, everything was perfect. Jun listened as Dylan talked about his work, about the new artists he was mentoring, about how one of them reminded him of a younger Jun— “All serious and broody. I feel like I should give him a little stick to carry all that emotional repression around.”

Jun smirked. “You’re insufferable.”

Dylan grinned. “And yet, you love me.”

Jun didn’t say anything. But he didn’t need to. The fact that he was here,with Dylan, instead of at the hospital— that was already proof enough.

Then Jun’s phone rang.

And just like that, the moment was over.

Dylan’s laughter faltered as Jun glanced at the screen, recognizing the number.

A hospital call.

A second passed.

Then another.

Dylan swallowed. “Jun.”

Jun sighed. “I have to take this.”

Dylan’s hands curled into fists on the table, but he didn’t stop him. Not yet.

Jun stood, stepping away to answer. Dylan stared at his plate, heart hammering as he waited. Please. Please don’t.

Then Jun returned.

His face was unreadable. But Dylan already knew.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” Dylan whispered.

Jun nodded. “It’s an emergency.”

Dylan’s chest ached. He knew this was coming. Of course this was coming. Of course Jun had to go.

But for once, just this once, he wanted to be the thing Jun chose first.

So he reached across the table, grabbing Jun’s hand. And he did something he had never done before.

He asked. 

“Please,” Dylan whispered. “Just stay. Just this one time.”

Jun hesitated.

For a split second, he actually hesitated.

But then he squeezed Dylan’s hand once , let go, and said, “I’ll call you later.”

Then he was gone.

And Dylan was left sitting alone at their table, staring at a candle that flickered like it was about to die.

 

Dylan went home alone. He didn’t text Jun. Didn’t call.

He wasn’t mad —not really. It wasn’t like Jun had done something unexpected. If anything, this was exactly the kind of thing Dylan had spent eight years preparing himself for.

Still, when he walked into their apartment, the silence felt heavier than usual. His half-eaten dinner sat in his stomach like a rock.

He showered, changed into comfortable clothes, and curled up on the couch instead of going to bed. His laptop was open, a project waiting for him, but he couldn’t focus. He kept hearing the words he had never said before.

Please. Just this one time.

He shouldn’t have asked.

Because now he knew that even when he did, Jun would still choose the hospital first.

Dylan swallowed hard, pressing his forehead against his knees. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.

 

Jun came home at 3  a.m. Dylan heard the door click open, the shuffle of shoes being kicked off, the familiar sound of keys hitting the counter.

He didn’t move right away.

Then— Jun sighed. Low. Exhausted.

And Dylan knew.

He knew Jun hadn’t eaten, hadn’t rested, had spent the past several hours running on pure willpower and sheer, stupid stubbornness. So even though Dylan was still sad, he stood up. He walked into the kitchen, pulling out ingredients without a word. He had done this so many times before, it felt like second nature—boiling water, slicing vegetables, heating up the pan.

Behind him, Jun lingered in the doorway, watching.

“Dylan…”

“Sit,” Dylan said, voice too soft.

Jun obeyed, dropping into a chair at the dining table. He didn’t speak. Just sat there, watching as Dylan moved around the kitchen, quick and efficient. Minutes passed before Dylan placed a steaming bowl of rice and soup in front of him.

“Eat.” he murmured.

Jun picked up the spoon. Took a bite.

It was warm, simple, exactly what he needed.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, finally, Jun exhaled, setting the spoon down.

“…I’m sorry.” he said.

Dylan stilled.

Jun never apologized for things like this. Not because he didn’t care, but because they had always understood— this was just how it was.

But tonight… Dylan had asked.

And Jun had still left.

Dylan swallowed, forcing a small smile. “It’s fine.”

Jun knew he was lying.

Because instead of letting it go, Jun stood, stepping closer. Then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around Dylan from behind, burying his face into his shoulder.

Dylan closed his eyes.

Jun was warm. Solid. The weight of his arms was so familiar, so easy to melt into. But the ache in Dylan’s chest didn’t go away.

Because he had long accepted that he was second place.

Second to the hospital. Second to Jun’s patients.

And even though he understood, even though he loved Jun anyway , that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

 

***

 

Dylan loved making Jun’s meals. Sure, Jun never really reacted to them—never gushed, never showered Dylan with gratitude—but that didn’t matter. Dylan still loved doing it. It was his way of taking care of Jun, of making sure he ate something real instead of relying on caffeine and hospital vending machine snacks. So that morning, Dylan whistled as he worked, moving around the kitchen with practiced ease. He had woken up extra early to make something special—Jun’s favorite beef rice bowl, with a side of rolled omelets and miso soup. And, just for fun, he arranged the food nicely, making sure it looked as good as it tasted. Then, grinning to himself, he grabbed a small sticky note and scribbled a message in messy, playful handwriting:

Eat well, my hard-working doctor! (Or else I’m telling your mom.) Love, your very handsome and amazing boyfriend. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Satisfied, he stuck the note onto the inside of the lunchbox lid and snapped it shut. Then he grabbed his coat and practically skipped out the door.

 

The hospital was as chaotic as ever, but Dylan was used to it. He weaved through the halls with ease, greeting nurses and doctors he had gotten to know over the years.

When he reached Jun’s office, he didn’t even bother knocking. He burst through the door with a bright grin, holding up the lunchbox like a prize.

“Lunchtime for my favorite doctor!”

Jun, buried in paperwork, barely glanced up. “Dylan.”

“Yes, love of my life?”

Jun exhaled. “I’m busy.”

Dylan ignored him and walked straight to the desk, setting the lunchbox down right on top of Jun’s files.

Jun stared at it, then at Dylan. “Really?”

Dylan beamed. “Really.”

Jun sighed, nudging the lunchbox aside. “I’ll eat later.”

“Nope,” Dylan said cheerfully. “Now.”

“Dylan.”

“You’re gonna starve to death.”

“I just had coffee.”

“ Exactly. You had coffee. Not food. If you die, I’m gonna be single. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Jun shot him a tired look. “Dylan—”

“Come on, just a bite.”

“I—”

“Just one bite.”

“Dylan.”

“A nibble.”

Jun finally snapped.

“ Dylan, stop! ”

Dylan blinked.

For a second, the room was silent.

Then—

Dylan chuckled softly, lifting his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. Busy doctor things. I’ll leave you alone.”

He grabbed the lunchbox off the desk, smile still perfectly intact.

And then— before Jun could even process it —Dylan turned and shoved the lunchbox into Pepper’s hands.

Pepper, who had just walked into the office, stared. “What—”

Dylan clapped him on the shoulder. “Take this before Jun dies of malnutrition and I become a tragic widow.”

Pepper blinked. “You’re not even married.”

“Not with that attitude.” Dylan joked, already backing toward the door.

Jun sighed. “Hon—”

Dylan grinned. “Love you too, hon! Bye!”

And with that, he escaped, leaving Pepper standing there holding Jun’s lunch.

Jun groaned, rubbing his temples. “He’s impossible.”

Pepper only hummed, setting the lunchbox back down. Then, as he moved to leave, something caught his eye —a tiny yellow sticky note, peeking from the lid.

Curious, Pepper peeled it off and glanced at it. And then— before he could stop himself —he smiled.

Jun frowned. “What?”

Pepper didn’t answer.

Instead, he held out the note.

Jun took it, brows furrowing as he read:

“Eat well, my hard-working doctor! (Or else I’m telling your mom.) Love, your very handsome and amazing boyfriend.(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )”

Jun stilled.

Pepper watched him carefully. “He really does love you, you know.”

Jun stayed quiet.

Pepper sighed. “Try not to forget that, yeah?”

And with that, he left.

Jun sat there, staring at the note for a long, long time.

 

Dylan exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he stepped out of the hospital. The whole interaction with Jun? Yeah, he didn’t wanna think about it too much. He had learned a long time ago that Jun was Jun —serious, inexpressive, and completely married to his work. This was normal.

So why did his chest feel so tight?

Before he could dwell on it, Dylan pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

The call rang only once before Po’s voice came through.

“ Dylan?”

Dylan forced his usual grin, even though Po couldn’t see it. “P’Po! You home?”

A pause. Then—“Yeah. You coming over?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“You don’t even have to ask, brat,” Po said, amused. “Come on over.”

Dylan let out a small laugh. “On my way.”

 

When Dylan arrived at Po and Thame’s condo, he was only mildly surprised to see Nano lounging on the couch, a bowl of snacks in his lap.

“Yo.” Nano greeted, popping a chip into his mouth.

“Yo.” Dylan shot back, slipping off his shoes.

Po and Thame were in the kitchen, and Po was already setting out an extra mug for Dylan.

Dylan grinned. “P’Po, you’re my favorite person in the world.”

Po smirked. “I know.”

Dylan plopped onto a stool, resting his chin on his palm. Thame was next to Po, stirring something in a pot, but his sharp eyes flicked to Dylan immediately.

“You went to see Jun.” Thame said. It wasn’t a question.

Dylan blinked, then laughed. “Okay, what the hell? How do you guys always know?”

Po shrugged. “You have a very specific face when you get Jun-related disappointment.”

Nano snorted from the couch. “It’s a little funny.”

Dylan gasped dramatically. “Betrayal.”

Thame sighed, setting down the spoon. “What happened?”

Dylan waved a hand. “Nothing major.”

Thame’s eyes narrowed.

Po leaned on the counter. “Dylan.”

Dylan groaned. “Fine, fine. I went to give him lunch. He was busy, I annoyed him, he yelled, I left. The end.”

Thame slammed the spoon down.

Dylan flinched. “Hey, hey, I worked hard on that lunch, don’t ruin the memory—”

“I’m going to talk to him.” Thame said, voice sharp.

Dylan’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? No, don’t!”

Thame crossed his arms. “Dylan, he—”

“No, seriously,” Dylan cut in, hands raised in defense. “He’s just tired. Work’s been insane for him lately, and I was being annoying—”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to yell at you.” Thame snapped.

For a second, no one spoke.

Then, finally, Dylan let out a quiet chuckle.

“…It’s really not a big deal.” he muttered.

Thame’s jaw tightened, like he wanted to argue more, but Po touched his arm, calming him down.

Nano, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke. “Dylan,” he said, voice softer than usual.

Dylan turned to him. “Yeah?”

Nano stared at him for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. Then—“Why do you always act like it doesn’t hurt?”

Dylan blinked.

His usual deflections —the jokes, the grins, the dramatic whining— all vanished.

Because that question? That question hit too close to home. 

Nano didn’t look away. “You can say it does, you know.”

Dylan swallowed.

Then, after a second, he plastered on a grin and shot finger guns at Nano.

“Man, you’re really killing the vibe right now,” he joked.

Nano rolled his eyes but didn’t push. And just like that, the moment passed.

Thame didn’t look convinced.

Po sighed. “We’re not gonna force you, but…” He paused, meeting Dylan’s eyes. “Just… let yourself be upset when you’re upset, okay?”

Dylan laughed lightly. “I am! I whined, didn’t I?”

Po and Thame shared a look.Nano just shook his head. Dylan knew none of them were convinced. But what was the point of saying it hurt when he had already accepted it?

Dylan stayed at Po and Thame’s condo a little longer than he planned. Not that he minded. Spending time with them was easy; a much-needed break from the thoughts swirling in his head.

Thame eventually cooled down after Po reassured him for the nth time not to go storming into Jun’s hospital and causing a scene. Nano stayed quiet most of the time, but Dylan caught him glancing over every now and then, like he was still thinking about what he had said earlier. And Po, always observant, just let Dylan be, which was probably what he needed the most.

They didn’t bring up Jun again. Instead, they ordered takeout, played a few dumb card games, and Dylan even managed to genuinely laugh at one of Po’s jokes.

For a moment, things felt normal. But eventually, Dylan checked the time and realized it was getting late. He stretched with a groan. “Alright, boys, as much as I love freeloading off you, I should probably head home before Jun thinks I died somewhere.”

Thame raised an eyebrow. “Would he even notice?”

Dylan snorted. “Ouch. Low blow, Thame.”

Po sighed, rubbing his temples. “Thame, for the love of—”

“ I’m kidding, I’m kidding! ” Dylan said quickly, waving his hands. “He’d probably notice. Like… after a few days.”

Nano smacked him with a pillow.

Dylan yelped, grabbing his chest dramatically. “ Ouch?! ”

Nano just rolled his eyes.

Po shook his head, amused. “You sure you don’t wanna stay the night?”

Dylan grinned. “Tempting, but I’d rather sleep in my own bed.”

Thame didn’t look convinced. “Are you really okay?”

Dylan beamed. “Of course.”

Thame stared at him for a long moment.

Then— without warning —he grabbed a cushion from the couch and threw it at Dylan’s face. Dylan let out a choked sound as it smacked into him.

“THAME—”

“You’re an idiot,” Thame muttered, crossing his arms.

Dylan spluttered. “Excuse me! What was that for?!”

Po sighed. “That’s how he shows love.” Nano nodded solemnly. “You should be honored.”

Dylan groaned, tossing the cushion aside. “Whatever. I’m leaving before I get assaulted again.”

He stood, grabbing his coat, and headed for the door. But before he could leave, Po suddenly called out— “Dylan.”

Dylan turned. Po’s expression had softened.

“If it ever gets too much… you know you can come here, right?”

For a second, he didn’t know what to say.

Because it was too much.

It had been too much for a while now.

But instead of saying that, he shot Po a lopsided smile.

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “I know.”

And then, before anyone else could see through him, he left.

 

Dylan tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes flicking between the road and the streetlights blurring past him. The city was quiet at this hour—only a handful of cars on the road, the usual neon lights casting long shadows.

His mind, however, wasn’t quiet at all.

Even after spending the evening with Po, Thame, and Nano— even after laughing, joking, pretending everything was okay —that nagging feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away.

He sighed, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

Maybe he really was stupid. Thame had practically lost it when he told them about what happened at the hospital. Po had looked concerned, and Nano… Nano had seen right through him.

“Why do you always act like it doesn’t hurt?”

Dylan bit his lip.

Because if he admitted it, then what? It wasn’t like anything would change.

He had been with Jun for eight years . Jun had always been like this— stoic, inexpressive, focused on his work —and Dylan had accepted it.

Jun loved him, Dylan knew that.

So why did today’s incident feel like a crack in something that had always felt unbreakable?

Maybe because he had spent the whole morning thinking about Jun, making sure he’d eat something homemade, only to get yelled at like he was a nuisance.

Maybe because, no matter how many times he told himself he was okay with coming second , today had been a little too much.

Maybe—

Dylan’s heart jumped as bright headlights suddenly swerved into his lane.

“Shit—!”

His hands jerked the wheel to the right on instinct, tires screeching as he tried to dodge the incoming car.

Too late.

A deafening crash.

Glass shattering.

The world spinning.

A violent slam —then everything went black.

 

Pain. That was the first thing Dylan felt.

A sharp, throbbing pain radiating from his side, his forehead, his legs.

The world was a blur, the sound of distant voices and ringing in his ears.

It took a second— a long, heavy second —before his mind caught up.

Car accident.

His breath hitched, chest tightening as panic kicked in.

Jun.

He needed to call Jun.

His fingers fumbled for his phone, cracked, painted with blood. His hands were shaking so hard it took him three tries to unlock it. He pressed Jun’s contact and brought the phone to his ear.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

No answer.

Dylan’s throat tightened.

He tried again.

Ring. Ring.

Still nothing.

He exhaled shakily, then hit redial.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Voicemail.

Dylan squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard. His head was spinning, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

“Come on, Jun…” he whispered. “Please.”

One more time.

Ring. Ring.

Voicemail.

Dylan let out a shaky laugh, more of a choked sob than anything.

Of course. Of course, Jun was too busy.

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, frustration mixing with the dull, creeping fear in his gut. His hands were trembling so much he almost dropped his phone, but before he could spiral further—

He did the only thing he could think of.

He called Pepper.

The line picked up almost immediately.

“Dylan?” Pepper’s voice was sharp, alert.

Dylan let out a shaky breath. “Per…”

“Dylan, what’s wrong?”

Dylan tried to answer, but his vision was starting to blur, dizziness creeping up his spine.

“Car… crash,” he forced out. “I—It wasn’t me. Other guy—”

A sharp inhale on the other end. “Where are you?”

Dylan struggled to remember. His head felt too heavy, thoughts swimming. He mumbled the name of the street.

“I’m sending an ambulance,” Pepper said immediately. “Stay on the line. Are you bleeding?”

Dylan let out a weak laugh. “Wouldn’t be fun if I wasn’t.”

Pepper cursed under his breath. Dylan’s head lolled back against the seat. Everything hurt.

“Hey,” Pepper’s voice was firm. “Stay awake. Talk to me.”

Dylan tried. He really did. But his mind was drifting , the pain dulling, the weight of exhaustion pulling at him—

And then—

Sirens.

Red and blue lights flashed against the broken windshield, voices shouting orders.

The paramedics arrived.

Dylan’s lips parted, relief crashing over him.

Jun. Jun would be here. Of course, he would.

Dylan barely managed to lift his head as the ambulance doors opened, familiar white coats and medics rushing forward. His vision was too blurry to make out faces, but he still called out— weak, hopeful.

“Jun…”

He saw a figure in the uniform he knew so well. He felt his chest ease , lips quirking into a faint, pained smile. He’s here. But then—

Jun glanced at him.

Just for a second.

And then—

Jun ran past him.

Dylan’s body went cold.

He turned his head—struggling against the pain, the dizziness—and followed Jun’s path.

Straight to the other car.

Straight to the other driver.

Jun was on his knees next to the other person, checking their vitals, shouting orders to the paramedics.

Dylan watched, dazed.

His brain tried to rationalize it. Jun was a doctor. He had to assess the most critical patient first. That was his job. It wasn’t personal.

It wasn’t personal.

It wasn’t—

But then Jun’s voice— urgent, focused, desperate —reached his ears. “Get me a stretcher, now—stay with me, you’re gonna be okay—”

Not for Dylan.

Not for him. 

Dylan felt something inside him crack.

He had called for Jun first.

He had looked at him first.

But Jun—

Jun hadn’t.

Dylan squeezed his eyes shut.

“Why do you always act like it doesn’t hurt?”

He had his answer now.

Because when it finally did, it was unbearable.

Dylan had never felt so cold. Not because of the injuries—though God knew those hurt—but because of the ache curling deep inside his chest.

Jun hadn’t chosen him.

Even after everything, even when Dylan had called out to him first, Jun had still run past him.

That shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

But it did.

It did because it wasn’t just about the accident.

It was about everything —every missed dinner, every unanswered call, every time Dylan had begged, even just once, to be put first.

And now, even when he was lying broken on the pavement , Jun had looked at him— looked right at him —and decided someone else was more important.

 

Dylan barely registered the paramedics working around him. He heard them talking, but the words sounded distant, muffled beneath the rushing in his ears. The only thing he truly processed was when the doors of the ambulance slammed shut, and the vehicle lurched into motion. It took him a second— a long, painful second —before he realized.

Jun wasn’t here.

Dylan’s fingers clenched weakly against the stretcher.

There was another ambulance.

Jun had gone with the other driver.

Not even this time.

Not even when he had been the one to call for him first.

Dylan let out a shaky breath, chest rising and falling in uneven, stuttering motions.

It wasn’t fair. 

But then again, when had it ever been?

His head throbbed. His vision blurred. The exhaustion was pulling him under, and for once, Dylan didn’t fight it. Maybe when he woke up, it would hurt a little less.

Maybe when he woke up, Jun would be there.

Maybe…

 

***

 

Dylan woke up to the rhythmic beeping of machines and the sterile scent of antiseptic filling his lungs. The moment his eyes fluttered open, his body ached —a deep, unrelenting soreness that throbbed in his ribs, his legs, his arms. His head felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish.

But none of that mattered.

His gaze immediately scanned the room.

Jun.

Jun would be here, right?

Of course, he would.

Dylan turned his head slightly—ignoring the sharp pain that followed—only to be met with an empty chair beside his bed.

His heart sank.

For a second, he just stared at the vacant space.

He didn’t know why he was surprised.

Of course, Jun wasn’t here.

He should’ve expected it.

 

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. Pepper stepped inside, wearing his usual white coat, clipboard in hand. “You’re awake.”

Dylan blinked before forcing a small, tired smile. “Unfortunately.”

Pepper sighed, walking up to the bed and checking the monitors. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Dylan muttered.

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Technically, a car.”

“Close enough.”

Pepper hummed, writing something down. “No fractures, but you’ve got a mild concussion and a few bruised ribs. You’re lucky.”

Dylan let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I feel super lucky.”

Pepper didn’t smile. Instead, after a moment of hesitation, he said, “The other driver, Earn… he’s in the ICU.”

Dylan stilled.

He swallowed. “Was it… my fault?”

Pepper shook his head. “He beat the red light. Drunk driver.”

Dylan exhaled, staring at the ceiling. Figures.

Not that it changed anything.

His body still hurt. His heart still ached. But before he could say anything else, the door opened again. Dylan’s breath hitched.

Jun.

He was still in his hospital uniform, his expression unreadable as he walked inside. His eyes flickered to Dylan for a split second before turning to Pepper.

“Can you give us a moment?”

Pepper glanced between them, then nodded. “I’ll be outside.”

Dylan watched as Pepper exited, closing the door behind him. Now, it was just the two of them. For a second, Jun didn’t speak.

Then—“What the hell were you thinking?”

Dylan’s brows furrowed. “…What?”

Jun’s jaw tightened , his arms crossing over his chest. “I mean, really, Dylan? You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

Dylan stared at him, disoriented. “Jun, it wasn’t my—”

“And for what?” Jun snapped, eyes flashing. “Because you were mad about a damn meal ?”

Dylan’s breath caught.

“What?” he whispered.

Jun scoffed. “I know how you are, Dylan. You’re reckless when you’re upset. You left Thame and Po’s place and what? Decided to drive like an idiot because you were pissed off at me?”

Dylan’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Jun,” Dylan said slowly, “I didn’t—I wasn’t reckless—”

Jun’s eyes narrowed. “Then what was it? Because all I see is you getting yourself hurt over something stupid.”

Dylan felt his fingers tremble against the sheets. The ache in his chest grew unbearable. His throat tightened, a lump forming that he couldn’t swallow.

And then… softly , brokenly—

“I know you’re just doing your job,” Dylan whispered.

Jun’s expression didn’t change. Dylan shook his head, tears burning in his eyes.

“I know, Jun. I know you have responsibilities. I know you’re a doctor. I know your patients come first—” His voice cracked. “ But god, when will you act like you actually care for me? ”

Jun froze.

Dylan let out a breathless laugh, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling.

“You didn’t even check on me,” he whispered. “Not even a second glance, Jun. You just—you looked at me and you ran past me.”

Jun’s fists clenched. “Dylan—”

“Do you know what that felt like?” Dylan choked out. “Do you have any idea?”

Jun was silent.

Dylan wiped at his eyes, letting out a shaky exhale.

“…I get it,” he murmured. “I’ll always be second.”

A whisper, raw and breaking—

“But I didn’t think it’d hurt this much.”

Jun opened his mouth, then closed it.

Dylan didn’t know if he was struggling to find the words or if he simply had none to give.

Either way, the silence hurt.

Dylan let out a soft, breathless laugh—except it wasn’t really a laugh. It was something small and shattered, something that barely held itself together.

“Say something, Jun.”

Jun’s fists tightened at his sides. “I do care about you.”

Dylan exhaled slowly. “Then why don’t I ever feel it?”

Jun’s eyes flickered —something shifting in them, something Dylan couldn’t place . It almost looked like guilt. Almost.

But then, just like always, Jun pushed it down.

He squared his shoulders, his voice low and steady. “Dylan, you know my job is—”

“I know.” Dylan cut him off , his voice quieter now. “I’ve always known.”

His fingers clenched weakly against the hospital blanket, his eyes lowering.

“And I told myself it was fine. That I could live with it. That I could handle always being second,” Dylan murmured. “Because you’re Jun. You’re always calm, always collected, always responsible. You’ve got lives in your hands. How could I ever ask you to choose me over that?”

A sharp breath. Dylan finally looked up, his eyes glossy.

“But then I was the one on the ground, bleeding,” His voice shook. “And you still didn’t choose me.”

Jun’s expression didn’t change —but his fingers twitched. Dylan noticed. He didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t know if it meant anything at all. Maybe it was just another thing Jun would pretend wasn’t there. Just like he always did.

Jun inhaled deeply, his jaw tightening. “Dylan, I had to prioritize the patient in more critical condition.”

“I know.” Dylan swallowed. “I know, Jun. I get it. ”

Jun was silent again.

Dylan’s chest felt so, so heavy. He turned away, blinking up at the ceiling.

“You know what’s funny?” His lips curled—not into a smile, not really. He exhaled softly, voice distant.

“If it were me,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t have hesitated.”

Jun stilled.

Dylan closed his eyes.

“I would’ve chosen you.”

Jun’s breath hitched. His composure cracked —just a little, just enough for Dylan to see the tension in his posture, the way his fingers curled into tight fists.

But Jun still didn’t say anything.

And Dylan? Dylan was just so tired.

He opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Jun again. His body still ached, but the pain in his chest— the kind that had nothing to do with the accident —was so much worse.

“You didn’t even ask me how I was feeling.” Dylan whispered.

Jun’s lips parted slightly, as if the words had hit him somewhere deep —somewhere he didn’t even realize he could be hit.

Dylan let out a breath, barely holding back the tremble in it.

“I woke up expecting you to be here,” he said, voice quieter now. “And when you weren’t, I thought— maybe you were busy, maybe you were just outside.” He swallowed, blinking rapidly. “But then you walked in here, and the first thing you did was scold me. Like I did this to myself. Like I got hurt on purpose just to spite you.”

Jun’s brows furrowed. “That’s not what I—”

“That’s exactly what it felt like.” Dylan’s voice was firm, raw.

Jun inhaled sharply, his jaw tensing.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Dylan could hear the distant beeping of the monitors, the soft hum of the hospital’s air conditioning. But the silence between them? It was deafening.

Jun finally exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “I was worried.”

Dylan just stared at him, his chest tightening.

“That’s how you show it?” he asked, genuinely confused .

Jun ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just—I saw you there, and I had to make a call. And when I saw you were still conscious, when I saw you weren’t— when I knew you’d be okay —I had to—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Dylan, I don’t know how to do this.”

Dylan blinked. His heart clenched at the way Jun said it. Like he was admitting something he never meant to say out loud. But still, Dylan swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“You don’t have to know how to do everything, Jun.” His voice was soft. “I never needed you to fix me. I just needed you to care.”

Jun’s gaze flickered— just for a second.

Dylan saw something in them, something that looked too much like hesitation, like regret.

But then— just like always —Jun shoved it all down.

“I do care…” Jun said, but the words felt empty now.

Dylan let out a small, shaky exhale, looking down at his hands. He nodded, once.

“Okay.”

Jun’s brows furrowed slightly, like he didn’t understand what that meant.

But Dylan didn’t explain. Because for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to fight for an answer. He was just tired.

The silence between them was unbearable. Jun still looked like he had something to say. Like he wanted to reach for the words, wanted to explain —but didn’t know how.

Dylan waited.

He always waited.

But then— A sharp beep. Jun’s pager.

Dylan’s heart sank.

Jun glanced down at it, brows furrowing slightly as he read the message. Then, without even looking up—without hesitating —he reached for his hospital ID and clipped it back onto his coat.

Dylan already knew what was coming. Still, some stupid part of him hoped.

Jun finally looked at him. “I have to go.”

Dylan nodded.

Of course you do.

Jun hesitated for just a second. His fingers twitched like he was considering something— maybe staying, maybe saying something else —but in the end, all he did was turn around and head for the door.

Dylan clenched his fists beneath the blankets, his nails digging into his palms. He knew this was how it would always be. He knew what he had signed up for—being second, always waiting, always understanding.

The door clicked shut behind Jun.

Dylan let out a slow, shaky breath. And this time— he didn’t try to stop the tears.

The door clicked open again, but it wasn’t Jun who walked in. It was Pepper.

Dylan barely had time to wipe his tears before a box of tissues landed on his lap.

Pepper sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching him carefully. He didn’t say anything—just waited. Dylan let out a weak chuckle, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at his eyes. “God, I must look awful.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “You were just in a car crash, Dylan.”

Dylan sniffled, offering a small, tired smile. “Still. I bet I could’ve looked better.”

Pepper didn’t laugh. He just held Dylan’s gaze, his usual sharp, perceptive eyes softening just a little.

Dylan sighed, leaning back against the pillows. A beat of silence passed before he finally spoke again.

“When do you think I can go home?”

Pepper hummed, tilting his head. “Probably in a few days, if everything looks good. No fractures, no internal bleeding. You got lucky.”

Dylan huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Lucky.”

Pepper didn’t miss the way Dylan’s voice dipped , the way his fingers clenched slightly against the blanket. But instead of pushing, he just leaned back, resting his hands behind him. “You should rest. If you heal quickly, you’ll be out of here before you know it.”

Dylan sighed. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

He didn’t say it, but he already knew— going home wouldn’t change anything.

 

***

 

Pepper did one final check-up before straightening and nodding. “Everything looks good. You’re clear to go.”

Dylan exhaled in relief, though the heaviness in his chest hadn’t left. He had expected to be alone when  he left the hospital, maybe call a cab or ask Thame to pick him up—but then, to his surprise, Jun moved first.

“I’ll help you,” Jun said, already reaching for Dylan’s bag.

Dylan blinked, caught off guard. He wasn’t used to this—Jun offering help before Dylan even had the chance to ask. Still, he swallowed down the surprise and let Jun guide him as he stood up, wincing slightly at the lingering soreness in his body.

Pepper watched silently, eyes flickering between the two of them. But he didn’t say anything, just gave Dylan a pat on the back before heading out.

Jun stayed close as they walked out of the hospital, his hand hovering by Dylan’s arm, like he was ready to steady him if needed. Dylan felt it —the concern, the quiet attentiveness. It was unfamiliar.

And for some reason, it made him feel even more distant.

 

Dylan sighed as he stepped inside their home, exhaustion weighing down on him. It felt strange being back, like the crash had happened a lifetime ago.

He expected Jun to leave immediately—maybe say something about going back to the hospital, tell him to rest, and then disappear again. But instead Jun carefully set Dylan’s bag down by the couch and turned to him. “Sit down. I’ll get you some water.”

Dylan blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Dylan’s breath got caught. Jun had said it so simply, so matter-of-fact, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dylan sat.

And just like that, Jun took care of him for the rest of the day. He made sure Dylan was comfortable, kept checking if he was in pain, even helped him change into something more comfortable when the soreness made it hard to move.

It was too much.

Because this was what Dylan had wanted for so long —to be prioritized, to be cared for. But now that it was happening, now that Jun was here , it just felt… hollow.

Like it was too late.

As the evening settled in, Dylan finally spoke. “You’re still here.”

Jun glanced at him from where he was setting a glass of water on the bedside table. “Yeah.”

Dylan hesitated. “Aren’t you… supposed to be at work?”

Jun sat on the edge of the bed. “I took a leave.”

Dylan stared.

Jun never took time off.

“…For how long?” Dylan asked, voice quieter.

“A week.”

Dylan’s fingers curled slightly against the blanket. He should’ve felt happy. He should’ve smiled and teased Jun about finally choosing him first. But instead, all he could do was whisper.

“…Why now?”

Jun looked at him, something unreadable in his eyes.

Dylan didn’t expect him to answer. And just like always—

He didn’t.

 

Jun had done everything right. At least, he thought he did. He made sure Dylan was comfortable, helped him move when the soreness got too much, checked if he needed anything— but something was wrong.

Dylan wasn’t meeting his eyes, h e wasn’t making any of his usual playful remarks, wasn’t teasing Jun for hovering too much. Instead, he just sat there, nodding when Jun asked him questions, murmuring soft “thank you’s” whenever Jun helped him with something.

It felt… off.

Jun knew Dylan. He knew how Dylan was supposed to act— loud, warm, full of life. But the Dylan in front of him was quiet , almost detached. And Jun didn’t know what to do with that. He wanted to fix it. But how could he fix something he didn’t even understand?

 

The next morning, Jun woke up earlier than usual. Dylan was still asleep, his breathing slow and steady. Jun got up, heading to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Or—at least— he tried. He stared at the fridge, then at the stove, and then back at the fridge. He had no idea what Dylan usually ate in the morning. He knew Dylan always made breakfast for him. But now that the roles were reversed— Jun realized he had never really paid attention.

He didn’t know Dylan’s favorite breakfast meal. Did he like coffee or tea? Did he take his eggs scrambled or sunny-side-up? Did he even like eggs in the morning?

He felt stupid.

So he just made something simple—toast, eggs, and coffee— even though he wasn’t sure if it was right.

When Dylan woke up, Jun placed the tray on the bedside table. “I made breakfast.” he said.

Dylan blinked at the food, then at Jun. “…You cooked?”

Jun nodded.

Dylan gave a small, barely-there smile. “Looks good.”

He ate slowly, and Jun watched—waiting for Dylan to say something, to joke about how the food wasn’t as good as his own cooking, to tease Jun for trying so hard.

But Dylan just ate in silence.

And Jun hated how unfamiliar it felt.

Because he was finally here. He was finally taking care of Dylan.

So why didn’t it feel enough?

 

Later that day, Jun tried helping Dylan walk around the apartment to stretch his legs. It should’ve been easy—Jun’s a doctor, he had done this for countless patients before.

But Dylan wasn’t just any patient.

And Jun had never realized how much he relied on Dylan until now.

He was used to Dylan taking care of him. Dylan made sure Jun ate when he got home late. Dylan reminded him to take breaks when he overworked himself. Dylan was the one who filled their apartment with warmth and love.

And now— Dylan wasn’t doing any of that. Jun felt it. The absence of Dylan’s usual energy, the silence where there used to be laughter.

And Jun didn’t know how to fill that space. Didn’t know how to bring Dylan back. So he just kept trying. Even though, deep down, he was terrified that it was too late.

 

Jun stood at the doorway, watching Dylan on the couch. The TV was on, but Dylan wasn’t really watching. His head rested against the cushion, eyes half-lidded, fingers lazily tapping against the blanket draped over his legs. He looked tired . Not just from the accident—but from something deeper.

Jun hated it. Hated that he didn’t know how to fix it. So he did the only thing he could think of.

“…Do you want to go out?”

Dylan blinked, turning his head slightly. “What?”

“A date,” Jun clarified. “If you’re feeling okay. We could go somewhere. Just the two of us.”

For a moment, Dylan just stared at him. And Jun wasn’t sure what he expected. A small, surprised smile? A teasing remark? Maybe something like, ‘Wow, Dr. Jun actually taking a break for me?’

But instead, Dylan let out a soft, breathy laugh. Not the kind Jun wanted to hear. Not the kind filled with warmth.

It was empty. Hollow.

Dylan turned back to the TV, his fingers still idly tapping against the blanket.

“Jun,” he said quietly, “just go back to work.”

Jun froze. “…What?”

“You don’t have to do all this,” Dylan continued, still not looking at him. “You took time off, you took care of me, and I appreciate it. But it’s fine now. You should go back.”

Something in Jun’s chest tightened.

“You still need to recover.” he argued.

“I’ll be fine.” Dylan murmured.

Jun swallowed. “Dylan—”

“I know how much you hate being away from the hospital.” Dylan finally turned to look at him, and there was something tired in his eyes, something that made Jun’s stomach churn. “You don’t have to force yourself to stay.”

Force himself?

Jun opened his mouth— to say what? He didn’t even know. But Dylan was already looking away again. Like he had already given up. And for the first time in those eight years, Jun felt like he was losing him.

 

***

 

Dylan grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as he glanced at the clock. Almost time.

He had a follow-up check-up with Pepper today—just the usual, nothing serious. But still, he felt a little drained even before leaving.

He was adjusting his sleeves when Jun suddenly appeared beside him, reaching for the small bag Dylan had packed.

“I’ll take you.” Jun said, already grabbing his keys.

Dylan blinked. “I can go alone.”

Jun frowned. “You’re still recovering.”

“I’m not a kid, Jun.” Dylan let out a breath, shaking his head. “I’ve been going places alone my whole life. I can handle this.”

Jun hesitated, grip tightening around the keys. His lips parted like he wanted to argue, but then—he stopped. He didn’t insist. Didn’t fight Dylan on it.

He just set the keys down. “…Okay.”

Dylan picked up his bag and left.

He didn’t look back.

 

Pepper was already waiting in his office when Dylan walked in.

“Right on time.” Pepper said, nodding toward the chair across from his desk.

Dylan smirked as he sat down. “What, you thought I’d skip out? You know I’d never miss our little dates.”

Pepper huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he pulled up Dylan’s file. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this check-up done.”

The check-up itself was quick. Pepper ran the usual tests, checked Dylan’s reflexes, made sure there weren’t any complications from the accident. Everything was fine.

“Your recovery’s looking good,” Pepper said, setting his clipboard aside. “Keep resting, don’t overexert yourself, and you’ll be back to full strength in no time.”

“Got it, doc.” Dylan grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Pepper leaned back in his chair, studying him for a moment. Dylan could tell he was thinking about something.

“…I liked you, you know.”

Dylan blinked. “…What?”

Pepper exhaled, a small, almost self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “Back in the days. I liked you.”

Dylan felt his breath catch.

“I never told you because—well.” Pepper chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “You were already in love with Jun. Everyone knew it. And I wasn’t about to get in the way of that.”

Dylan opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t know what to say.

Pepper just kept going, voice calm, steady. “I’m not telling you this to expect anything. I just… thought you should know.”

Silence. Dylan swallowed. His throat felt tight.

“…I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Pepper shook his head. “You don’t have to be.”

But Dylan still felt it. That strange, aching guilt—like he had hurt someone without even realizing it. And as he sat there, staring at the friend he had known for years, he wondered. How many more people have I unknowingly left behind?

Dylan’s fingers curled around the fabric of his sleeve, his mind still catching up to Pepper’s words. He never would have guessed.

Pepper was just— Pepper. His friend, his doctor, someone who had been in his life for years without ever making things complicated.

Yet all this time…

Dylan swallowed. “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Pepper said, giving him a small, knowing smile. “I told you, I’m not expecting anything. It’s just something I wanted to say.”

Dylan exhaled, forcing out a soft, shaky chuckle. “Damn. You could’ve told me earlier. Maybe I would’ve fallen for you instead.”

Pepper raised a brow. “Would you?”

Dylan opened his mouth—then shut it.

Because no.

They both knew the answer.

He had been Jun’s since the moment they met. There was no world where he wouldn’t have chosen Jun.

Pepper’s lips curled into something softer, a little sad, but mostly understanding. “Exactly.”

Dylan dropped his gaze.

There was something heavy in his chest— not guilt, not regret, just… something. Something about how Pepper had been there all this time, quietly liking him, quietly stepping aside. How many times had Dylan overlooked that? Overlooked him?

“…Does it still hurt?” Dylan asked, his voice quieter now.

Pepper leaned back in his chair, letting out a thoughtful hum. “Not really,” he admitted. “Maybe if you had asked me years ago, I would have said yes. But now…?” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I ever really wanted anything from you. You were just… someone I loved in silence. And I was okay with that.”

Dylan exhaled. “That’s so unfair.”

Pepper tilted his head. “Why?”

Dylan looked up, lips pressing together before he murmured, “Because you deserved better than that.”

Pepper just smiled.

“And you deserve better than how Jun’s been treating you.”

Dylan’s breath hitched. He stared, stunned into silence, as Pepper continued, voice calm but firm.

“You do, Dylan. I’m not saying he doesn’t love you. I know he does. But I also see how much you’ve been hurting.”

Dylan opened his mouth— to argue? To defend Jun? He wasn’t sure. But nothing came out. Because Pepper was right. And Dylan knew it.

After a long moment, Pepper sighed and stood up. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Dylan hesitated before nodding, slowly getting up. But as they left the office, a quiet thought lingered in his mind.

Why did it take someone else to tell him he deserved better—before he even considered it?

As Dylan and Pepper walked toward the hospital exit, Dylan spotted a familiar trio waiting near the doors.

P’Po, ever the reliable older brother figure, stood with his arms crossed, watching him with an unreadable expression. Beside him, Thame and Nano were chatting about something, but the moment Dylan stepped out, all three of them turned their attention to him.

Dylan blinked. “What are you guys doing here?”

Po shrugged. “Pepper called us.”

Dylan shot a look at Pepper, who merely gave him a small, casual smile.

“You seemed a little out of it,” Pepper said, voice neutral. “Figured you could use some company.”

Dylan let out a soft scoff, shaking his head. “Man, do you guys ever mind your own business?”

“No,” Po replied instantly.

Dylan snorted. Of course.

Nano, ever the bright one, grinned as he slung an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “We figured we’d steal you for the rest of the day. You up for it?”

Dylan sighed dramatically. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Thame smirked. “Not really.”

Dylan chuckled, but before they could leave, Nano tilted his head. “Oh, by the way,” he said, “do you want Jun to come too?”

Dylan stilled.

Jun?

His first instinct was to say no.

But then Nano’s lips curled into something mischievous. “Actually, let’s make it interesting. Let’s place bets. If you call him right now, do you think he’ll pick up?”

Dylan blinked, t hen let out a small laugh. “Oh, this is evil.”

Po smirked. “So? What’s your bet?”

Dylan barely even had to think about it. “He won’t answer.”

Thame raised a brow. “That confident?”

Dylan just smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come on, it’s Jun.”

Nano grinned. “Alright. Call him.”

Dylan sighed and pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over Jun’s contact for a moment, hesitation flickering in his chest— did he even want Jun to answer?

But before he could think about it too much, he pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear.

One ring… two rings… three rings…

Then—

“Dylan?”

Dylan’s breath hitched. He felt something in his chest— disappointment? For some reason, he had been so sure Jun wouldn’t pick up. But here he was. Answering on the first call.

Dylan forced out a small, amused chuckle. “Wow. Didn’t expect you to answer.”

Jun sounded confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Dylan hesitated for a split second.

Then, smoothly, he said, “Because you’re busy.”

There was a pause on the other end.

Then Jun let out a soft sigh. “I always have time to answer you.”

Dylan’s fingers curled slightly around his phone.

‘Then why didn’t you?’

But he didn’t say that.

Instead, he forced another small chuckle. “Well, guess I lost the bet.”

Nano, who had been watching his face closely, tilted his head but didn’t say anything.

“So what’s up?” Jun asked.

Dylan hesitated again. And then, without really knowing why, he said, “Nothing. Just checking in.”

Another pause.

“…Okay,” Jun said, sounding slightly confused. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Dylan murmured. “See you.”

He hung up.

There was a beat of silence before Po crossed his arms. “So? What’d he say?”

Dylan shoved his phone back into his pocket. “He answered. I lost.”

Nano narrowed his eyes slightly. “You don’t look too happy about it.”

Dylan let out a small breath and flashed them a lazy grin. “What, do I need to be happy about everything? Come on, let’s go.”

He started walking ahead before anyone could ask anything else. But even as they left the hospital, even as his friends talked and joked around, Dylan couldn’t shake the strange, sinking feeling in his chest. Because for the first time, he was starting to realize— He didn’t know what he wanted from Jun anymore.

 

***

The apartment was quiet when Dylan finally got home. He shut the door behind him, his body aching—not from pain, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer weight of the day. It was almost midnight.

He hadn’t meant to stay out so late. He really hadn’t. But after Po, Thame, and Nano dragged him around from one place to another, distracting him, making him laugh, he didn’t want to go home just yet.

Didn’t want to see Jun just yet.

But now he was here. And Jun was waiting.

The second Dylan took a step forward, a voice— low, tight, barely restrained —cut through the silence.

“Where were you?”

Dylan froze. Jun was standing in the living room, arms crossed, jaw tight, his usual composed expression betraying something much sharper. Something Dylan hadn’t seen in a long time.

“…Out,” Dylan said, like it was obvious, like it was nothing.

Jun’s eyes darkened. “I called you.”

Dylan sighed, dropping his bag onto the counter. “And?”

Jun stepped forward. “You didn’t answer.”

Dylan let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he turned toward Jun. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you actually cared where I was.”

Jun’s brow furrowed. “Of course I care, Dylan.”

“Do you?” Dylan shot back, voice sharper than he intended. “Because you never seem to care when you’re the one leaving me behind.”

Jun’s expression stiffened.

“Don’t do that,” Jun said, voice dangerously quiet. “Don’t make this a competition.”

Dylan scoffed. “Isn’t it, though?” He turned away, running a hand through his hair. “You get to leave whenever you want. You get to ignore my calls because of your work. But the second I don’t pick up, it’s a problem?”

“That’s not—” Jun inhaled sharply, his hands clenching at his sides. “That’s not the same thing, Dylan.”

Dylan let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? Tell me how.”

Jun stepped closer, his voice strained. “Because I don’t leave for fun. I leave because I have to. Because people’s lives depend on me.”

Dylan’s smile dropped. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Right. Of course. It always comes back to your job, doesn’t it?”

Jun’s silence was his answer.

Dylan pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, gripping the counter behind him. His knuckles turned white.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Dylan murmured, voice quieter now. “Do you even realize how much that hurts?”

Dylan let out a breath, his shoulders slumping. He was so damn tired.

“Look, Jun. I get it,” he said, his voice calmer now, but no less wounded. “I’ve always gotten it. Your work is important. People need you. I know that.”

Jun stayed silent, watching him carefully.

Dylan swallowed, looking down at his hands.

“But sometimes… I just wish you realize that I need you too.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Jun’s face twisted for a split second— something raw, something vulnerable, something like regret.

“…I do,” Jun finally said, and for once, his voice wasn’t calm. It was quiet, fragile, almost pleading.

Dylan looked up at him, searching his face.

Then, softly— tiredly —he asked, “Then why don’t you ever act on it?”

Silence.

It stretched between them, raw and suffocating, filling every corner of their apartment. Jun stood there, still as stone, his eyes fixed on Dylan— pleading, desperate, breaking.

Dylan just stared back at him, his heart heavy. Too heavy.

He knew what he had to say. He knew how much it would hurt. But this… this wasn’t something he could keep carrying anymore.

Dylan took a deep breath, exhaling shakily before he finally spoke.

“Jun… let’s break up.”

Jun’s breath hitched.

For the first time in their eight years together , Dylan saw it— fear. Real, naked fear in Jun’s usually emotionless eyes.

“…What?” Jun’s voice came out broken, like the words physically hurt to say. He took a step closer, his hands trembling. “Dylan, no. Don’t—don’t say that.”

Dylan felt his throat tighten, his vision already blurring. But he forced himself to look at Jun, to really look  at him.

His Jun.

The man he loved more than anything.

The man he could no longer bear to love.

He shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore, Jun.”

Jun’s hands clenched at his sides. “You can’t just say that. You—you don’t mean it.”

Dylan let out a quiet, broken laugh. “Jun, I’ve meant it for a long time now.”

Jun flinched.

And suddenly, everything poured out of Dylan, the weight of every unspoken word crushing him.

“Do you even realize how lonely I’ve been?” Dylan choked out, voice rising. “Do you know what it’s like to sit across from the person you love and feel like a stranger? To wake up every morning and wonder if I’ll even see you that day? To beg, to plead, just for a few hours of your time—only to be left behind over and over again?”

Jun was shaking his head. “No—Dylan, I—”

“I waited, Jun.” Dylan’s voice cracked. His chest ached. “For eight years, I waited for you to make me feel like I mattered. And every time, I told myself it was okay. That I understood. That you were saving lives. And maybe—maybe that was enough back then. But it’s not anymore.”

Jun was breathing hard now, his face tight with emotions he couldn’t even begin to express. “Dylan, please—”

Dylan laughed, bitter and pained. “Do you know what the worst part is?”

Jun swallowed hard, barely able to look at him.

Dylan’s voice dropped, shaking as he whispered, “The crash. That night. For a second—for just a second—I was… happy.”

Jun’s eyes snapped up to meet his, horror washing over his face.

Dylan let out a shaky breath, eyes glistening. “Because I thought— finally. Finally, you’ll take care of me. Finally, you’ll have no choice but to look at me. Even if it’s just as a patient. ”

Jun’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“And then you ran past me.” Dylan let out a sharp breath, his voice breaking completely. “You ran past me like I was nothing.”

Jun staggered back.

Like Dylan had just taken a knife and driven it straight into his chest.

Jun’s entire body trembled as he whispered, “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Dylan whispered back, his voice tired. “And that’s the problem, Jun.”

Jun shook his head, frantic now , stepping toward him with wild eyes. “No. No, you can’t—you can’t do this. We can fix this, Dylan. Just—just tell me how, I’ll do it. Anything, I’ll do anything.”

Dylan let out a breath, looking at him with so much sorrow, so much love —because god, he still loved him.

But love wasn’t enough anymore.

“I don’t think you can.”

Jun’s knees buckled.

And before Dylan could react, he dropped to the floor.

Dylan’s breath caught as Jun grabbed onto his waist, clinging to him, pressing his face against Dylan’s stomach, his entire body shaking with silent, violent sobs.

Jun— stoic, composed, unshakable Jun—was kneeling.

Begging.

“Dylan,” Jun’s voice was wrecked, raw, so unlike him. “Please. Please don’t do this. Please.”

Dylan’s chest ached.

He had never seen Jun like this. Never. Not once in their eight years together.

And if this had been before —if this had been years ago —maybe this would have been enough.

Maybe seeing Jun cry for him, beg for him, would have been enough to make him stay.

But it was too late.

Dylan closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks.

He reached down, threading his fingers through Jun’s hair, holding him close for just a moment longer.

And then, softly— so, so softly —he whispered,

“…Let me go, Jun.”

Dylan had always known Jun as an unshakable force— stoic, immovable, unreadable.

But now, Jun was breaking.

His arms tightened around Dylan’s waist, his body shaking as he sobbed, his face pressed against Dylan’s stomach like he was praying —as if holding onto him tightly enough would somehow keep him from slipping away.

“Please, Dylan.” Jun’s voice was barely a whisper, cracked, raw. “Please, I—I’ll do better. Just don’t—don’t leave me.”

Dylan squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers still tangled in Jun’s hair.

God, he wanted to believe him.

He wanted to believe that Jun would change. That this time would be different. That Jun would finally choose him.

But that wasn’t who Jun was.

It had never been who Jun was.

And Dylan was so, so tired of waiting.

He swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath before slowly prying Jun’s hands away from his waist.

Jun let out a choked sound—a quiet, broken noise of devastation—his fingers desperately trying to hold on, but Dylan was already stepping back.

And the moment Dylan took that step—the moment he pulled away—Jun shattered.

Tears ran freely down his face, his expression twisted in anguish as he looked up at Dylan like he had just lost his entire world.

Dylan wiped at his own face, his throat burning as he struggled to steady his voice.

“Jun… we can’t keep doing this.”

Jun shook his head, frantically, as if he could somehow reject the very idea of it. “Yes, we can. Dylan, please. I’ll make it right. I’ll fix it.”

Dylan let out a quiet, exhausted laugh, shaking his head. “How, Jun?”

Jun’s breath caught.

“Tell me how,” Dylan whispered. “Tell me how you’re going to fix eight years of me not knowing where I stand. Of waiting. Of begging. Of feeling like I had to earn your love.”

Jun opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Dylan exhaled shakily, looking down at him with so much sorrow.

“You can’t.”

Jun flinched.

“I loved you so much, Jun.” Dylan’s voice was hoarse, breaking with every word. “I loved you so much it hurt. And I waited for you—God, I waited. I told myself it was okay, that I understood, that I could handle it. That one day, you’d realize I needed you just as much as you needed me.”

Dylan’s lips trembled, a tear slipping down his cheek. “But you never did.”

Jun shook his head violently, tears streaming down his face as he reached out, grabbing Dylan’s hands. “I do need you, Dylan. I do. Please don’t—please don’t go.”

Dylan let out a quiet, shuddering breath. He squeezed Jun’s hands once. Just once.

And then, gently— so, so gently—he let go.

Jun’s hands fell limply to his lap. His entire body sagged, his chest heaving with silent, wrecked sobs.

Dylan kneeled in front of him, wiping at Jun’s tears even as his own continued to fall.

“I know you love me, Jun.” Dylan’s voice was quiet, almost peaceful now. “But you only ever love me in the ways that are convenient for you.”

Jun let out a sharp, pained inhale, his shoulders shaking.

Dylan reached up, running his fingers through Jun’s hair, one last time.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“If you really love me, Jun please… let me go.”

And this time— Jun couldn’t stop him.

The room was unbearably silent.

Jun was still on his knees, his hands limp at his sides, his body trembling as he tried to breathe through his sobs.

Dylan watched him, his own heart aching, breaking, shattering —because he still loved Jun. He still wanted Jun. God, he still wanted Jun.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to blink away his own tears. He had to do this.

Slowly, Dylan crouched in front of Jun, hesitating before reaching out. His fingers brushed against Jun’s cheek, wiping away his tears.

Jun’s breath hitched at the touch, his red-rimmed eyes staring at Dylan like he was drowning.

Like he didn’t know how to exist without him.

Dylan smiled—a small, broken thing. His voice was soft, gentle, filled with all the love he still carried. “You always forget to eat when you’re busy.”

Dylan exhaled shakily, his fingers brushing against Jun’s jaw. “Don’t skip meals, okay?” His voice cracked, but he forced himself to keep going. “I know you think you don’t need it, but you do. Please, Jun.”

Jun’s lips trembled. “Dylan, stop.”

Dylan didn’t.

He forced out another breath, a tear slipping down his cheek. “And sleep, Jun. You never sleep enough.”

Jun squeezed his eyes shut, a fresh wave of tears spilling down his face.

Dylan let out a quiet, broken laugh. “You’re always awake at ridiculous hours. You think you function just fine on two hours of sleep, but you don’t. You get these tiny, barely noticeable frowns when you’re exhausted, and—” Dylan’s voice caught, and he sucked in a sharp breath before whispering, “And I won’t be there to remind you anymore.”

Jun let out a strangled sound, his hands clutching his own shirt— clutching at the pain— like he was physically trying to keep himself together.

Dylan cupped his face, thumbs wiping at Jun’s tears even as his own fell freely.

His voice was barely a whisper now. “Turn off the switches before you leave the apartment. You always forget. And—” He let out a watery laugh, shaking his head. “And don’t leave your dirty mugs everywhere, okay? You always say you’ll wash them later, but you never do.”

Jun’s eyes squeezed shut , his shoulders shaking. “Dylan, please stop—”

“And the plants, Jun.” Dylan choked out a sob. “Water them every three days, not every day. Too much water will kill them.”

Jun let out a guttural, broken sound, his hands finally reaching out— grabbing Dylan’s wrists, gripping them so tightly like he was trying to stop him from slipping away.

Dylan smiled through his tears. A soft, gentle, aching smile.

His fingers traced over Jun’s cheekbones, over his jaw, his lips. He took in every detail— memorizing him.

For the last time.

Then, slowly, painfully, Dylan leaned in.

And he pressed a kiss against Jun’s forehead.

Jun let out a shattered, silent sob.

Dylan lingered there for a moment, his lips trembling against Jun’s skin.

One last kiss. One last touch.

Then he pulled back.

Jun’s hands tightened around his wrists, refusing to let go.

Their eyes met— one last time.

Jun was pleading.

Dylan was saying goodbye.

Gently, Dylan pried Jun’s hands away.

Jun’s fingers twitched— trying to hold on, trying to keep him there.

But Dylan only smiled. A tired, aching smile.

Then, without another word—

He stood up.

And he walked away.

 

 

Dylan didn’t know how he made it to Thame and Po’s condo.

He barely remembered getting into the taxi. Barely remembered watching the city lights blur past the window, his vision clouded with unshed tears. All he knew was that by the time he knocked on their door, his entire body felt numb.

The door swung open almost immediately.

Po’s eyes widened the moment he saw him. “Dylan—”

Dylan gave him a small, tired smile. “P’Po.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Can I stay for a while?”

Po didn’t say anything. He just pulled Dylan in.

The warmth of the condo hit him all at once, the familiar scent of home-cooked food lingering in the air. It felt safe. It felt warm.

And yet, Dylan felt nothing at all.

Thame walked out of the kitchen, a towel slung over his shoulder. “Po, who was at the—” His words died the moment he saw Dylan.

His eyes flickered over Dylan’s face— his puffy eyes, the red streaks on his cheeks, the way his entire body looked like it was barely holding itself together.

His stomach dropped. “Dylan… what happened?”

Dylan opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. His throat burned. His chest ached. His hands trembled.

“We broke up.”

Po’s breath hitched. Thame visibly stiffened.

And just like that—Dylan couldn’t hold it in anymore. The first sob tore through him. And the next. And the next.

Until he was shaking, breaking, collapsing right there in front of them.

Po caught him before he could fall, wrapping him in a tight, warm embrace, one hand cradling the back of Dylan’s head. Thame stepped forward, his arms immediately wrapping around them both, his grip steady, strong.

No words. No questions. Just them —holding him together while he fell apart. Dylan buried his face into Po’s shoulder, sobbing so hard his entire body trembled.

“I loved him,” he choked out. “I loved him so much.”

Po tightened his arms around him. “I know.”

“I waited, P’Po.” His voice cracked. “I waited for so long. But he never—he never—”

“I know, Dylan.” Po whispered, his voice soft, aching. “I know.”

Thame didn’t say anything, but Dylan could feel the way he held onto him just as tightly.

The three of them stood there for a long time— Dylan shaking, crying, unraveling.

Until finally—finally— the sobs slowed.

Dylan sniffled, wiping at his swollen eyes. His voice was quiet, tired. “I’m okay now.”

Po sighed. “You’re not.”

Thame frowned, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to pretend with us, Dylan.”

Dylan let out a soft, humorless laugh. “I know.”

And yet—he had to be okay. Because there was still one last thing he needed to do. With shaky hands, he reached for his phone and scrolled through his contacts.

Po and Thame both watched him cautiously as he pressed a number.

The call barely rang twice before the other line picked up.

“Dylan?”

Pepper’s voice was surprised—concerned.

Dylan swallowed hard, his grip on the phone tightening.

“Per.” His voice wavered. “Can you do something for me?”

Pepper hesitated. “Of course. What is it?”

Dylan took a deep breath, blinking rapidly to keep his voice steady. “Can you take care of Jun for a while?”

“Dylan…”

Dylan let out a weak chuckle. “Just until he can take care of himself. You know how he is.”

Pepper exhaled slowly, his voice gentle. “Yeah. I know.”

Dylan closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

And with that, he ended the call.

He let out a long, shuddering breath, pressing the phone against his forehead.

Po and Thame were both staring at him, their expressions filled with something he didn’t quite have the energy to decipher.

Finally, Po sighed. “You’re an idiot.”

Thame scoffed, shaking his head. “The biggest idiot.”

Dylan laughed, breathless and exhausted, as he let them pull him back into their warmth.

 

***

 

 

Hospitals always smelled the same. That sterile mix of antiseptic and something faintly metallic, the cold air that carried the hum of machines, the hurried footsteps of nurses in the hallways. Dylan hadn’t stepped inside one in three years. Not since—

Not since Jun.

But today wasn’t about Jun.

Today was about Nano and his absolute inability to walk five steps without getting himself into trouble.

“I swear, I was just trying to grab my drink.” Nano sulked, sitting on the hospital bed with an ice pack pressed to his ankle.

Dylan sighed, arms crossed. “And you just happened to slip on nothing?”

Nano huffed. “The floor was wet! It wasn’t my fault.”

Po, who was leaning against the wall, grinned. “You should’ve seen it, though. He went down so fast.”

Dylan sighed, rubbing his temples. “I can’t believe I left work early for this.”

Nano pouted. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

The door suddenly creaked open, and Dylan turned—

And everything in him stopped.

Jun stood at the doorway, flipping through a chart, his white coat slightly loose around his frame. His hair was still neatly styled, his ID clipped to his chest, and the moment he glanced up—

Their eyes met.

The world blurred.

The last time they had seen each other, Jun was begging him to stay. Holding onto him like he was something precious. Something Jun had only realized he was losing too late.

Three years.

It had been three years since Dylan had walked away.

And yet, seeing Jun now… it still hurt.

But it was a different kind of hurt. Not the sharp, suffocating kind that crushed his chest. No, this pain was softer. The kind that came with time. With healing. With moving forward.

Jun blinked, visibly startled, his hand tightening around the clipboard. “Dylan.”

Dylan swallowed, forcing a small smile. “Hey, doc.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy yet familiar.

Nano, who had been watching quietly, sighed. “Of course. Of all the doctors in this damn hospital, it just had to be you.”

Po raised an eyebrow. “What, you think this is fate?”

Nano scoffed. “I think the universe hates  P’Dylan.”

Dylan let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Sounds about right.”

Jun cleared his throat, stepping further inside. “What happened?”

Nano dramatically threw his hands in the air. “I almost died.”

Dylan smacked his shoulder. “You twisted your ankle.”

Jun sighed, kneeling beside the bed and pressing carefully along Nano’s swelling. His movements were careful, methodical— he had always been like that. Precise. Measured.

And yet, Dylan caught the slight stiffness in his shoulders. As if Jun was trying too hard to stay composed.

As if Jun was still affected, too.

Dylan looked away.

Jun finished checking the swelling, then straightened. “It’s just a mild sprain. Try not to put weight on it for the next few days. I’ll have the nurse wrap it for you.”

Nano gave him a thumbs-up. “Thanks, doc.”

Jun nodded, but his gaze flickered to Dylan again. As if trying to find something. As if searching for pieces of the person he used to know.

Po and Nano exchanged a glance before Po suddenly clapped his hands. “Welp, I think it’s time we get out of here.”

Nano blinked. “I literally cannot walk.”

Po grinned. “Not my problem.”

Nano groaned as Po dragged him out, giving Dylan a knowing look before shutting the door behind them.

And just like that— Dylan and Jun were alone.

Silence settled between them, heavier this time.

Jun shifted on his feet. “You look well.”

Dylan hummed. “You too.”

Another pause.

Then Jun sighed, rubbing his temple. “I—” He hesitated. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Dylan’s lips quirked. “Yeah. Life’s funny like that.”

Jun exhaled, his fingers tightening around the clipboard. And for the first time, Dylan saw it.

The regret. The apology. The words Jun had never said.

And maybe— maybe three years ago, Dylan would’ve needed to hear them.

But now?

Now, he had already healed.

So instead, he gave Jun a small smile. “I don’t blame you anymore.”

Jun inhaled sharply.

Dylan shook his head. “I used to think I’d never stop hurting. That I’d always be angry at you.” His gaze softened. “But time changes things.”

Jun swallowed, something in his expression cracking.

Dylan sighed. “I’m okay now.”

Jun looked at him for a long time— like he didn’t quite believe it. Like he wanted to reach out but knew he had no right to.

So instead, Jun smiled. soft, sad, but real.

“Good.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m glad.”

Dylan exhaled. “Yeah.”

There was nothing left to say.

No confessions. No second chances.

Just two people standing in a hospital room. Two people who had once loved each other so much it nearly destroyed them.

But now?

Now, they were healing.

And that was enough.

Dylan took one last look at Jun—at the life they had left behind.

Then, with a small nod, he turned and walked away.

 

 

 

 

end