Page 93 of Damian & Jun: Episodes 1-4
Jun was sitting up in the bed, wrapped in blankets. His face was swollen on one side, and his lip had two stitches holding it together. One of his hands was wrapped in gauze.
The nurse with the food stood and stepped out, saying something softly to Jun. Damian pushed her chair aside.
“Jun.”
“Da.” Jun’s smile spread over the half of his face that still looked like him and tugged on the other. He winced.
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes, please, just not the stomach.”
Damian wrapped his arms around Jun’s shoulders, pressing his forehead against the unwounded side of Jun’s face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m told you nearly burned this place down.”
“We were going to.”
“I—” Jun blinked and shook his head. “Thank you? Yohei says everyone else is all right?”
“Everyone but Yohei, Gigi, Richard, Holden, and Maleko flew out an hour ago. Even though we knew where you were, we thought it best. And Su-jin’s family is safe for now. He sent them on a surprise vacation.”
“Good.” Jun sagged against the bed.
Damian pulled the chair close enough that he could keep holding Jun’s hands, mindful of the gauze. He knew the medical diagnosis. Yohei had passed everything on as Jun heard it. Damian and Richard had put a pause on Damian’s campaign, but everything was only on ice. They could trigger it again at any time. And the pressure on Bak from 5N fans was going nowhere. Mi Hi had discreetly asked Yohei if Jun would be okay with hospital pictures being published.
“We probably can’t talk here?” Jun whispered.
Damian shook his head. Without searching the room, the likelihood someone had turned on their cell phone and dropped it under a bed for a reporter was too high.
“I want to go home. And I don’t even know where that is.”
“It’s with me.” Damian wrapped both hands around Jun’s. “Once they’re sure your liver isn’t in any additional danger, you can be discharged. Yohei said the frostnip was fine now.”
Jun wiggled his toes under the blankets. “I have a couple cuts, but yeah, I can feel everything again.”
“Jun, baby. Damn it. You scared the ever-living hell out of me.”
Jun patted Damian’s back. “Same.”
There was so much Damian needed to say and to ask and so much that Jun’s eyes said he needed to hear, but there they were, holding hands, unable to trust that they could say any of it.
“You should sleep,” Damian whispered. “I’ll stay right here.”
It was the afternoon of the next day before the doctors deemed Jun out of immediate danger, but there was still some concern about his liver. They could wait four weeks for the bruising to dissipate or fly back with medical supervision to the US. Richard suggested and Damian readily agreed that the second option was best. Émeric retained an air ambulance service out of Incheon. Damian arranged for road ambulance service to take Jun from the small hospital straight to the airport.
Jun slept through most of it, although he wouldn’t let go of Damian’s hand even in his sleep. Touch was everything. They couldn’t kiss and couldn’t say the things that needed to be said, not when surrounded by strangers and possible listening devices. Touch was all they had. A few nurses murmured that they must be good friends, and one doctor asked how they came to know each other. Damian brushed them all off with half-hearted comments about meeting at an event, knowing each other for a while, or how Jun had been through a lot and didn’t have family.
At Incheon, Yohei greeted Jun by pressing his forehead against Jun’s and whispering something in his ear, but after that, everything was business. They passed through a less public version of customs, Yohei handling Jun’s paperwork for him and Damian pushing Jun’s wheelchair. Richard managed everything else including Damian’s paperwork, and Holden and Maleko kept curious onlookers from getting close. Within an hour, they boarded a small jet, the medical staff and pilot greeting them personally. The nurse, a wiry Filipino man, whose name tag read Crisanto, took Jun’s vitals and offered him a bed. Everyone else took seats.
Damian’s phone chimed: It was a PayPal request for payment for a dollar. “Who are you?” was the memo. He shook his head and swiped the notification away. No way was he falling for that. The only person he used that account with was Dalia. Who knew who she’d let get a hold of her phone. He’d have to talk to her before he used that number to send her any more money before the next kid’s birthday.
Jun groaned and leaned on Damian as he leveraged himself down onto the bed. “How long until this stops hurting?”
“A couple of weeks until it’s gone entirely.” Damian squeezed Jun’s less injured hand. “You can do it.”
Jun grimaced and relaxed, one muscle group at a time, wincing as he let his stomach release. The nurse motioned to check the area, and Jun nodded.
“Damn, who stomped you?” Crisanto looked at the dark foot-shaped mark across Jun’s belly and ribs.
