From a short distance away, James kept a close eye on Euan and Andrew, his gaze narrowing as something felt off. Quickening his pace, he followed them, Fruitcake trotting faithfully at his side, his focus zeroing in on how Andrew's grip tightened on Euan's wrist as they moved farther from the gallery. A frustrated sigh escaped him. "What now?" he muttered under his breath. Glancing down at Fruitcake, he murmured apologetically, "Sorry for rushing you, buddy. I'll make it up to you later... and maybe have a word with them about putting us through this."
Just a few feet away, outside the gallery, James scanned the road and spotted Andrew and Euan stopping abruptly in the middle of the street, their conversation intensifying into an argument. His concern mounting, he quickened his pace to reach them.
"What's wrong with you, Andrew?" Euan's voice cracked with a mix of frustration and embarrassment, his eyes glistening with unspoken confusion. "Why did you act like that? You treated her unkindly back there!"
Andrew turned on him sharply, his features hardening like a stone, his voice laced with a raw edge of anger. "Let's just go home, okay?" he snapped, his words like a cold slap.
Euan's breath hitched as he yanked his arm free from Andrew's grip. His eyes bore into Andrew's face, searching for something he couldn't find—answers, truth, understanding. But all he saw was distance. "You're confusing me with how you're acting. I don't care if you knew her or that Ji-Won he mentioned, but—" His voice wavered at the end, a mix of confusion and uncertainty. "But why are you so worked up over something so small?"
"Please…" Andrew's voice cracked, his façade cracking just enough for a moment of vulnerability to slip through. He clenched his fists at his sides, but his entire body trembled with the effort to hold it together. "Just stop. Let's just go home."
His repeated plea came like a silent scream, begging for escape from the weight of Euan's questions, but Euan's expression hardened further, his heart sinking. "Are you hiding something from me?" The words felt like daggers.
Andrew swallowed thickly, his throat tight. His resolve, once firm, crumbled under the weight of Euan's words. He took Euan's hands in his, fingers trembling. His gaze flickered away for just a moment before locking with Euan's, his voice barely a whisper. "What are you talking about?" His tone was softer now, but it was filled with a raw vulnerability that Euan hadn't expected. "Tell me what you think I'm hiding."
Before Euan could respond, James and Fruitcake caught up with them. James, panting slightly, raised his hands in a feeble attempt to diffuse the building tension, his gaze darting nervously between them. "You two—calm down! People are starting to stare. Don't fight out here." His voice was laced with unease, and though he spoke to them both, his eyes lingered on Euan, trying to gauge the storm brewing within him.
Euan's gaze snapped to James, his chest rising and falling with emotion. "James... do you know that girl? The one from the gallery? Her name's Soo-Jin." His voice quivered, the desperation clear in his tone.
James answered too quickly, almost too calmly. "No, I've never met her," he replied, though the truth was, he'd never encountered Soo-Jin.
Euan's eyes locked onto James, unyielding. "And Ji-Won?" he pressed. "Do you know him?"
For a brief, torturous moment, James hesitated. His mind raced, scrambling for a way to avoid the truth, but his eyes betrayed him—there was a flicker of guilt, a lie he couldn't hide. His heart hammered painfully in his chest, and his voice faltered, the weight of the lie seeping through.
"No," James finally said, but his voice trembled, revealing the deception in the slightest crack.
Euan's eyes flared with anger and disbelief. The betrayal burned through him like wildfire. "Liar!" The word felt like a slap, and without another word, he spun on his heel, fury and confusion driving him forward. His movements were reckless, unthinking, as he stormed away.
"Euan, wait!" Andrew's voice cracked, panic flooding his chest. He watched Euan's back, the distance growing between them, his heart pounding. "Euan, stop!" His voice was raw with fear as Euan stepped off the curb, oblivious to the oncoming traffic.
James's eyes widened in horror. "Euan! Look out!" His voice broke, but Euan, consumed by the chaos of his emotions, didn't register the danger. He didn't notice the traffic light or the speeding cars swerving around him. His body moved on instinct, weaving through lanes and narrowly avoiding collisions. His breaths came in sharp gasps, his thoughts swirling. Andrew's breath caught in his throat as he watched. He felt his entire body tense, his heart seizing with terror, his hands clenched in his hair, every muscle screaming in panic.
"Euan!" Andrew screamed, his voice raw with a terror he couldn't hide. Euan had barely made it across the street, but the fear—the real fear—hadn't even begun.
Without thinking, Andrew was already moving, his body in motion before his brain could catch up. He darted into the street, the blaring honks and the screeching tires filling the air, his pulse thundering in his ears.
As Euan reached the safety of the opposite curb, his chest heaving, he turned at the sound of frantic barking. He froze when he saw Andrew still in the street, his heart dropping into his stomach. A truck was barreling toward him.
"No!" Euan screamed, his voice cracking, fear tearing through him. He rushed forward, feet stumbling beneath him, but the world seemed to move in slow motion.
Andrew turned, his face a mask of horror, just as the blinding headlights of the truck swallowed him whole. The impact was deafening. The sickening sound of metal colliding with flesh echoed in Euan's ears, and everything went silent.
Euan's legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the pavement, his body shaking uncontrollably as his mind refused to accept what had just happened. "No…" he whimpered, the word barely a breath. "No, no, no!" His voice was raw with desperation as he scrambled toward Andrew's crumpled body. The reality of what had just transpired crushed him, each heartbeat feeling like a dagger to his chest.
***
Euan sat hunched over on the cold steel bench outside the operating room, his body curled inward as if trying to shield itself from the pain already seeping into his bones. His fingers trembled uncontrollably as they intertwined in his lap, fidgeting every few seconds. His hands would tighten around each other, as though clinging to the fleeting fragments of control that slipped further from his grasp with each agonizing minute.
It had been thirty long, suffocating minutes since James had rushed back to the villa to return Fruitcake. Each tick of the clock above his head felt like a death knell, deepening the pit of dread growing heavier in his chest. The sterile scent of the hospital, sharp and unwelcoming, clung to the air, but Euan couldn't focus on anything but the door to the operating room. His eyes were locked onto it, pleading silently for someone—anyone—to emerge with news. The longer the surgery dragged on, the harder it became to breathe. His chest felt as though it were being crushed, and his heart hammered erratically, a frantic, merciless drumbeat that refused to cease.
Desperation clawed at him. He finally gave in, his shoulders slumping as he buried his face in his knees, trying to stifle the violent sobs that wracked his body. Tears, warm and unrelenting, poured down his cheeks, but they did little to numb the pain gnawing away at his insides. His eyes, red and swollen from the relentless outpouring, burned as he squeezed them shut, willing himself to find some kind of respite. But it didn't come. The fear that had taken root in his chest was suffocating, and no amount of tears seemed to ease the ever-deepening agony of waiting.
With his forehead pressed against his knees, Euan's whole body shook, each tremor an echo of his internal chaos. The muffled sounds of footsteps passing by, the soft murmur of hospital staff, all felt so distant—like they were happening in another world entirely. In this frozen moment, time had ceased to move, locked in an endless, torturous loop of waiting, of fearing the possibility of losing Andrew. The silence was suffocating, and in it, Euan could feel his own breath catching in his throat, threatening to choke him.
***
An hour had passed since the operation, and still, there was no sign of anyone emerging from the sterile room. Euan sat alone on the cold bench, utterly broken—his red, swollen eyes were a testament to the relentless storm of emotion he had weathered, and his trembling body seemed to barely hold itself together. His hands lay limp in his lap, fingers curled as if they had forgotten how to grasp anything for support. The air around him felt suffocating, every passing second stretching into eternity.
Just then, James arrived at the hospital. His heart shattered at the sight of Euan—so small, so vulnerable. The despair was palpable, like a weight pressing down on him. Kneeling beside Euan, James reached out instinctively, his hand gently brushing Euan's shoulder in a gesture that felt almost foreign but necessary.
"How long have you been crying?" James asked softly, his voice thick with concern, his brows furrowing as he took in the depth of Euan's anguish.
Euan's body shuddered with another sob as he looked up at James, his voice cracking like glass. "Why is it taking so long?" The words were a desperate plea, as if he could will the clock to move faster, to make the waiting stop. He struggled to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven gasps.
James sighed, the weight of the moment pressing on his chest. "Let's just trust the doctors, okay?" He said, his voice low and steady, yet laced with the same worry that gripped Euan's heart. James gently wiped the tears from Euan's cheeks with his thumb, each touch slow and deliberate, as though trying to heal the hurt with the simplest of comforts. "He will survive," he murmured, though he wasn't sure if the words were as much for Euan as they were for himself.
Without hesitation, James wrapped his arms around Euan, pulling him close. The contact was soft but firm, a silent promise that they would face whatever came next together. Euan's body trembled against him, but the warmth of James's embrace anchored him—at least for the moment.
As they clung to each other, the door to the operating room slid open with a faint metallic squeal. Both men froze, their bodies going rigid as they turned toward the source of the sound, their hearts pounding in unison.
The doctor stepped out, his expression professional but his eyes holding a glimmer of reassurance. "The operation was successful," he said, his voice calm, but tinged with the weight of the situation. "However, it may take some time for Andrew to regain consciousness. He sustained a severe head injury and will need to be transferred to the ICU for further monitoring."
The words hit Euan like a tidal wave—relief flooded through him, but it was sharp and uneven, tangled with a gnawing anxiety that wouldn't let go. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to blur at the edges.
Then, as the doctor finished speaking, Andrew was wheeled out on a stretcher. His body was pale, his form lifeless, the stark contrast to the vibrant person Euan had known and loved. The sight struck him like a physical blow, and his breath hitched in his chest, caught somewhere between fear and hope.
"Andrew!" Euan's voice trembled, desperate, raw with emotion. Without thinking, he took a step forward, his hand reaching out instinctively, as though the mere act of touching Andrew could pull him back from the brink of the darkness that had taken him.
The story doesn't end here...
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