Running to You | Park Han + JL + Steven | Haneulz + Stejay AU

Chapter 85: Permission to Fall Apart

The drive to the rehabilitation facility was heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Han drove with both hands on the wheel, eyes fixed forward, while JL sat motionless in the passenger seat. The city blurred past them, the world spinning at full speed while everything inside the car moved like something underwater.

The facility was modern in a cruel way. It was too clean, too polished, as if its pristine white walls could pretend they weren't housing so much pain. Inside, the standing frame waited like a metal sentinel under fluorescent lights that were too bright, too sharp.

JL's hands gripped the parallel bars, knuckles white. His face was drawn tight with strain, breath coming in short bursts as the braces locked around his knees, the belt tight around his hips. Sweat slicked his hair against his forehead as the frame lifted him, forcing weight through legs that had forgotten how to hold him.

The pain was always there -- deep, sharp, relentless. But today was different. Today, the others had come.

Behind the observation glass, they stood in reverent silence: Woongki, Kyungho, Jeongwoo, Juwon, Shuaibo -- and Steven. It was the first time since Steven had left that they'd all been together.

Steven stood furthest back, but he wasn't watching JL anymore. He was watching Han.

He watched the way Han stayed steady as JL trembled. The way Han caught him instinctively whenever JL sagged forward, guiding him back upright with practiced grace. The way Han murmured soft encouragement that JL rarely responded to, but Han spoke anyway -- a heartbeat beside him, keeping him tethered.

"Jesus," Juwon whispered. "How does he endure that?"

"He couldn't alone," Woongki said softly. "Han endures it with him."

Steven watched with a quiet grief mixed with awe. And something deeper. Something that neither felt like pain nor peace.

Because it was beautiful, in its brutal way.

The raw ugliness of the sessions -- the tremors in JL's legs, the way his arms shook under the strain, the sweat that soaked both their shirts, the way Han stood through it all -- it was not something Steven could have given him.

He used to believe he had loved JL harder than anyone could. 

He'd been wrong.

* * * 

When the session ended and the others filtered out, Steven stayed. He stayed for each session after that, watching them struggle, hearing the grunting effort and soft heaving curses. The way Han's eyes never left JL's face.  

He waited for Han in the parking lot after the fifth session that week. Han came out late, drained. He walked like someone who hadn't slept, who had been carrying too much for too long.

Steven stopped him gently.

"Han."

Han glanced over, surprised. He looked thinner too. Worn down in a way that wasn't visible to most people, but Steven recognized it now. Not just exhaustion. The ache of someone who had bent his entire existence around keeping another person alive.

Steven didn't speak right away. Just stood there for a moment, studying him. His chest felt hollow, watching this man who had done what he couldn't.

"You were both holding up in there," Steven said finally, his voice careful.

Han's response was immediate, flat. "No, I'm not."

Steven blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. But then he saw Han's eyes -- bleak, yes, but burning underneath with something fierce and unbreakable. A determination that ran so deep it looked like it could cut through steel.