In His Arms - Wonheon ( Wonho x Jooheon )

Chapter 60 : Apology And Forgiveness

Wonho lays with his hand on Jooheon’s chest, his fingers slayed wide right over the area of the brunet’s lungs. He feels every breath that Jooheon takes and with every rise and fall of Jooheon’s chest, Wonho breathes along with it, like a silent rhythm that keeps them connected.

His eyes flitter from Jooheon to the IV machine, quickly analyzing the amount of fluids that are steadily pumping into the young man, keeping him hydrated. Wonho hadn’t wanted to hook him up to the machine, but after three hours had passed and Jooheon had made no sign of waking up, it was apparent that Wonho needed to take action.

So he had. It was the least he could do, considering… considering it’s his fault Jooheon had gotten hurt in the first place.

Wonho’s hand gently travels up, over Jooheon’s collarbone, his neck, then his jaw, until his fingers softly comb into Jooheon’s hair and instantly find the sealed cut where Jooheon’s skin had split open at the impact. Thankfully, it hadn’t been a bad split so Wonho was able to use tissue adhesive rather than stitch him up. It was an even bigger sigh of relief that the cut was hidden and that it didn’t seem like it would scar too heavily.

Still, the scar shouldn’t exist to begin with. He shouldn’t have hurt Jooheon. He shouldn’t have pushed him as hard as he had.

But there’s no denying that seeing his pictures torn up and thrown across the floor like they were trash -- he had saw red. Jooheon standing above them and screaming his head off hadn’t made it any better, and Wonho had just… he lost it. He had lost his control and had acted out and Jooheon had been the one to pay the price.

It all keeps replaying in his head; the sound when Jooheon’s skull had crunched into the wall, the sight of Jooheon’s face when he had gasped in pain and crumpled to the ground, the all too familiar smell of metallic iron. Wonho had been scared shitless.

He’s still scared shitless. If Jooheon had stumbled just a bit more to the left, he could have gone tumbling down the stairs and who knows what would have happened then? Or what if Jooheon had crashed into the wall at an odd angle, or if he had tripped and gone toppling over to the ground and impacted a larger area of his head? There were too many scenarios that kept playing, haunting him, and he couldn’t close his eyes for even a second.

Wonho slides his hand back down onto Jooheon’s chest and takes a deep, shuddering breath once he feels Jooheon’s chest expand. He hadn’t realized that he had been holding his breath before, when his hand left Jooheon’s ribs. It was as if his body refused to do so without knowing that Jooheon was breathing too.

He eases his body closer towards the brunet, letting his torso mold into Jooheon’s side. Wonho can feel more of Jooheon like this, but it still isn’t enough. It doesn’t put him at ease.

He needs more.

Wonho is extremely careful as he slides his arm under Jooheon’s head, slotting his arm right behind Jooheon’s neck and gently tilting it so that his nose presses against Wonho’s chest. His other arm drapes entirely over Jooheon’s torso, with his hand still over Jooheon’s lungs. The position leaves no space between them. This close together, Wonho can see every aspect of Jooheon’s face and even though he knows he could draw every inch of the brunet, he still can’t look away.

Because it feels like their time is now cherished. Sure, Wonho has always valued every moment with Jooheon, but now… after what happened today… Wonho knows he could have had a very different night, one without Jooheon in his arms, alive . It could have happened and that’s what’s eating him alive.

In his anguish, he doesn’t realize that he must be squeezing Jooheon too tight, because suddenly he begins to feel Jooheon shift in his arms. His movements are sluggish and heavy, and with one deep breath, Jooheon’s eyelids flutter open.

Wonho freezes and he can only stare as Jooheon’s brown eyes move from looking at his chest, to drifting upwards to Wonho’s own gaze. He can see the sleep that clouds the brunet’s stare, and how his gaze isn’t entirely focused, but all Wonho can concentrate on is how Jooheon seems to burrow himself deeper into Wonho’s grasp.

Wonho can’t move. He still stays, like concrete, and watches Jooheon with a sharpness that would rival that of an eagle.

Jooheon moves his arm and as he reaches toward Wonho’s face, the back of his hand skims against Wonho’s torso. The contact lasts less than a second before Jooheon’s fingers find Wonho’s face, sliding right over his jaw until he tentatively presses the pads of his fingers into Wonho’s lips. Jooheon angles his hand so that his thumb lifts up the side of Wonho’s mouth as the rest of his fingers curve against Wonho’s jaw.

It takes Wonho a second to realize what the young man is doing.

When it hits him, he feels warmth begin to creep into the gnawing at his heart. He wants to sob in relief. He wants to pull Jooheon so close that they become an array of limbs, chest to chest, heartbeat against heartbeat.

Jooheon is taking away the frown that is on Jooheon’s lips. The brunet is physically pushing it away, trying to make Wonho’s torment disappear.

They get only a fraction of a second when Jooheon’s gaze locks back onto his, holding, as a silent conversation transpires between them. Wonho gives his apology and Jooheon gives his forgiveness .

Jooheon’s eyes go hazy again, his eyelids beginning to flutter, but before he falls back asleep, he shifts onto his side and presses himself completely against Wonho; chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

It’s only then that Wonho manages to fall asleep.