Inho was only knocked out for a second. To be honest, he wasn’t completely sure he was out at all, but he did feel like he suddenly went from a weird dream to an equally weird reality incredibly fast. And also, he needed to puke.

“I called 911,” someone was saying to him, pointing the flashlight from their phone at his face, “Ugh, that’s so much blood.”

It seemed he was lying face-up on the hood of a sedan. Inho started to sit up, he didn’t want to puke on himself.

“You should stay still,” the voice continued, “Why weren’t you looking? I was obviously about to get out,” Inho couldn’t see the speaker past the light in his eyes.

A wave of vertigo hit him, and his hands slipped on the wet surface of the car. He fell flat again, so he swallowed hard and decided to just stay like that a minute. He must have gone over the front of his bike and rolled? He should really start wearing a helmet. He tentatively lifted his hands to examine his head. It felt all in one piece, but there was a warm sticky spot in his hairline. Below it, his left eye was stinging, and when he rubbed it, his hand came away red in the uneven light.

“You should have been wearing a helmet.”

Inho tried to ask if his bike was okay, but it came out all garbled. Before he could try again, red and blue lights started flashing and an ambulance pulled up. They were actually very close to the hospital.

Two paramedics climbed down and quickly approached him, a man and a woman.

“He rode his bike right into that car,” the stranger said, “I don’t think he hit it that hard.”

“I’m okay,” Inho said, speaking slowly. His second attempt to sit up was successful. They were asking him questions, shining more lights in his face, and patting him down all over. He winced several times in the process.

“Sir, you were unconscious, do you know what happened?”

“I– I hit my bike. I’m fine. though.” He was probably fine, this was a lot of fuss for nothing.

“You need to come in sir, let’s get that head injury checked out.”

Inho’s hand shot up to his hairline again where blood was still streaming down. He could feel it now, spreading across his face.

“Don’t worry about the blood, head wounds just bleed a lot. There’s a dear, up we go,” Then they were moving him, helping him onto a stretcher.

“Wait, my phone!” Inho said suddenly. This was all happening extremely fast. The stranger from the car picked it up and handed it to him. The screen was shattered again. Goddammit.

The paramedics wrapped his head wound in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. When they arrived, they checked him in with the emergency room triage nurse, transferred him to a wheelchair, and dropped him off in a crowded waiting room. He didn’t need to barf anymore, but his head was pounding and his left wrist hurt a concerning amount to move.

He awkwardly held his broken phone up one-handed. It still worked, thankfully. They were probably asleep now since it was nearly midnight, but he texted Stephen and his dad because it felt like he should tell someone where he was.

His dad didn’t answer, but Stephen called him immediately. Inho glanced nervously at the woman next to him who started vomiting noisily into a plastic bag, and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Inho, what happened?! Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I think so,” Inho felt embarrassed to be causing so much fuss, “I think I’m waiting to see a doctor, or for a bed? I dunno. I’m okay, I just fell off my bike”

“Fell off your bike into a car?”

“Well, yeah, but it was parked.”

“You’re in the ER, right? I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

“Wait you don’t have to co–” Stephen had already hung up. Inho shut his eyes in exasperation. He didn’t want Stephen to come this late, Stephen hated being tired at work.

Inho had never liked inconveniencing others, a dislike that was magnified after the end of his relationship with Jamie – who had made it clear that everything about him was a burden. He hated the thought of Stephen thinking that too. But, a tiny selfish part of him was glad. He was overwhelmed, confused, and very alone. The woman next to him wretched again and across the room, a man started shouting at a nurse.

True to his word, Stephen swept through the automatic doors 10 minutes later. His eyes searched the room frantically before settling on Inho. He strode over and crouched in front of him. Though he was dressed impeccably as always, there was obvious tension between his brows, and his hair fell soft and unstyled onto his forehead. Inho immediately felt relieved that he was here and shitty for calling him.

“Well, how are you??” Stephen lightly placed his hands on Inho’s knees for balance, “You look horrific. You didn’t tell me you hit your head.” A vein pulsed in Stephens temple as he clenched his jaw. Inho knew he got angry when he was stressed, somehow even that was comforting.

Inho put his phone down so he could pat Stephen’s hand reassuringly, “Head wounds just bleed a lot,” he said, “It’s nothing major. They bandaged it, but I might need some stitches. There was some sort of vent on the hood of the car? I dunno.”

“And the rest of you?” Stephen did not seem reassured by this at all.

“I’m not sure. I kinda hurt all over.” Inho laughed nervously. He was worried about his wrist. He couldn’t serve or bike without it. The woman next to them started heaving again, and Stephen observed her with distaste before rolling Inho over to an empty chair and sitting next to him.

“Is it okay for you to be here? You shouldn’t have come.” Inho couldn’t suppress the feeling of being an inconvenience.

“What? Of course I came. Don’t worry about anything,” Stephen took Inho’s uninjured hand and held it gently, “I’m here.”

Inho looked at their clasped hands where they rested on Stephen’s leg, then couldn’t help but glance around the room. A little boy was staring at them, then leaned to whisper in his mom’s ear. Inho turned away. He didn’t release Stephen’s hand.