Kaven rushed to Gyu's side and shoved Garam away, sending him crashing to the floor beside the bed.
"You freaking loathsome bastard!"
I shouldn't have trusted him. Not even once.
His hands shook as he dialed the last number he got of Gyu's mom.
From the corner of the room, a phone rang.
Garam's.
Meanwhile, Garam barely reacted. His focus was already back on the bed.
Gyu was coughing—no, choking. His body twisted, breaths coming out broken, wrong.
Kaven was stunned as he rushed to his side.
Gyu's hands were wrapped tightly around his own neck.
Garam pushed himself up just in time to see it.
"No," Kaven whispered.
For a split second, Garam's irritation flared hot and sharp.
What the hell are you doing?
He didn't think beyond that.
He shoved past Kaven and grabbed Gyu's wrists, wrenching them away from his throat with more force than necessary.
"Bring me something," Garam snapped. "Anything. We need to tie his hands—now."
Kaven spun around the room in a panic, yanking open drawers, scanning the table, the chair, the floor—nothing. No rope, no belt, no cloth long or strong enough. His hands closed around the bedsheet, then let it go. it was too much, too rough. Behind him, Gyu thrashed weakly, choking on broken breaths. "I can't find anything," Kaven said hoarsely, turning back empty-handed. Helpless.
Garam kept his grip tight. Gyu was burning—feverish, soaked in sweat. Too hot. Too far gone.
"This side of him…" Kaven thought dimly, watching. "I've never seen this."
"What could have triggered this?
What had dragged him into a state this broken?"
"Why am I the only one left?" Gyu sobbed.
"I hate this… this place… this room… this smell… and this name."
"I don't want this. I don't like it. Please… let me go." He struggled to free his hands.
Room.
Garam's jaw tightened so his strength on grip.
He didn't know what room Gyu was talking about. Didn't know where his mind had disappeared to—but he could tell one thing clearly:
Gyu wasn't here.
He was staring past Garam. Past the bed. Past the room they were actually in.
That irritated Garam more than his own presence.
"Gyu," Kaven said desperately. "Open your eyes. It's me. It's Kaven."
Nothing.
Kaven tried calling again. Garam's phone rang again.
"Was it yours?" Kaven asked, confused.
"Do you have her number? Gyu's mom?"
"Call her—or we take him to the hospital. I'm scared."
"This won't help," Garam said, irritation cutting into his voice.
"He's just like this… for now."
He could feel Kaven's anger burning into him.
"So what—stand here and watch him choke himself?"
Garam tightened his grip on Gyu's wrists, knuckles whitening.
Enough.
He let go of one wrist just long enough to slap Gyu—hard.
The sound cracked through the room.
Gyu's eyes fluttered open, unfocused, and glassy.
Garam grabbed his shoulders immediately.
"I'm here," he said roughly.
"Open your damn eyes and look at me."
He shook him—not gently, not kindly—forcing his voice through whatever fog had swallowed him.
"Do you still feel that room?"
He didn't know what the room was.
Didn't care.
He just needed Gyu to come back.
To stop looking like Garam wasn't even there.
Something shifted.
Gyu sagged back, breath uneven, strength draining from his body. He looked like he might collapse again any second.
Slowly, trembling, his hand lifted.
It touched Garam's face.
Garam froze.
Irritation flared again—sharp, uncomfortable—but he didn't pull away. Didn't move at all.
"Don't hate me too much," Gyu whispered.
"Stay with me."
"I don't want to go there… please don't take me there."
There.
Garam didn't know where there was.
But he knew one thing.
"I'm not taking you anywhere," he muttered, low enough that only Gyu might hear.
Kaven stared at them.
"What does that mean?"
"Where are you taking him?"
"He's not conscious," Garam said shortly.
"He's not talking to me."
Gyu's fingers tightened suddenly around Garam's hand.
"Don't go."
For a moment, Garam considered pulling away.
Instead, he stood—slowly—keeping his hand where it was. With the other, he grabbed the water pot, rinsed the cloth, and laid it over Gyu's burning forehead. He shoved the thermometer into his mouth with little patience.
Kaven watched the numbers rise.
104 degrees.
"My god…" Kaven whispered.
So that was it.
Garam exhaled through his nose, irritated but focused. Fever this high could drag anyone into places that didn't exist.
He worked without speaking—washing Gyu's hair, wiping his hands, loosening his shirt to cool him down. His movements weren't gentle.
But they were careful.
Controlled.
And he didn't step away.
Understanding the silence, Kaven prepared the porridge and placed the food on the table.
This isn't normal, Kaven thought.
I'm the only friend you have… so why is he the one you cling to?
I really know nothing.
While kaven wiped Gyu's face again.
Gyu still hadn't let go Garam's hand.
Garam noticed.
Didn't acknowledge it.
Garam hated hospitals. He hated sickrooms.
And more than anything, he hated being here.
Yet his feet didn't move.
Annoyed, tense, clearly wanting to be anywhere else—yet still right there.
Because whatever room Gyu had been trapped in,
Garam wasn't leaving until Gyu looked at him again.
Why?
The same question he asked himself, too.
There's no amount of sympathy—or anything—he has for him to name.
But his unconscious body, which reminded him of her, kept him rooted.
He wants to preserve that feeling, no matter how fleeting it was.
Unless Gyu comes back to himself, he has her.