Chapter Text
The convenience store bell chimed, a cheerful sound that echoed the rhythm of Tan’s heart. It had been a good day—a great day, actually. Work had finished early, the sky was a painting of bruised purple and fiery orange as the sun set, and best of all, he had found *them*.
Tucked away on the bottom shelf of the candy aisle, hidden behind a wall of generic gummies, sat the last three containers of limited-edition peach-mango jellies. They were Fang’s absolute obsession. He didn’t have a sweet tooth for cake or chocolate, but put a wobbly, fruit-flavored jelly in front of him, and Fang’s usually stoic expression would soften into something rare and adoring.
Tan snagged them with the triumph of a hunter catching game. He paid for them, cradling the plastic bag like it contained precious jewels, and began the walk home. He imagined the look on Fang’s face when he walked through the door. There would be the slight furrow of the brow as Fang looked up from his laptop, the questioning hum, and then the inevitable smile when Tan revealed the prize.
*Just a few more blocks,* Tan thought, humming to himself.
The walk took longer than usual because Tan kept stopping to check the jellies, as if they might magically disappear. By the time he reached their apartment complex, the streetlights had flickered on, casting long, lonely shadows on the pavement. The humidity of the evening clung to him, making the plastic bag stick to his palm.
He took the stairs two at a time, his energy buoyed by the thought of seeing his boyfriend. They had been busy lately—Fang with his final project submissions, Tan with his own deadlines. They had been passing ships in the night, sharing quick kisses over coffee and collapsing into bed at odd hours. Tonight felt different. Tonight felt like they finally had time.
Tan reached their door, juggling the keys and the jelly bag. He unlocked it and pushed it open, expecting the familiar blue light of Fang’s monitor or the sound of typing.
"Hey, Fang! You won't believe what I—" Tan’s voice died in his throat.
The apartment was dark. The only light came from the hallway streaming into the living room. It wasn't just that Fang wasn't at his desk; it was the silence. It was heavy, suffocating, and wrong.
"Fang?"
Tan stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. A cold prickle of dread started at the nape of his neck. He saw Fang’s bag near the entrance, his shoes kicked off haphazardly. That wasn't like him. Fang was meticulous. He lined his shoes up perfectly.
Tan dropped his keys on the side table, his grip tightening on the plastic bag. He walked further into the apartment. "Fang? Are you in the bathroom?"
No answer.
He rounded the corner into the small kitchenette, and the world tilted on its axis.
Fang was on the floor.
He was lying on his side near the counter, one arm curled awkwardly under his head, the other flung out as if he had tried to catch himself. He wasn't moving.
The bag of jellies hit the floor. The plastic containers rattled, a harsh, plastic sound that seemed deafening in the quiet room.
"Fang!" Tan screamed, his voice cracking.
He scrambled across the room, his knees hitting the hardwood floor with a jolt of pain he ignored completely. He grabbed Fang’s shoulders, shaking him.
"Fang, wake up! Please, baby, wake up."
Fang was pale, terrifyingly pale. A sheen of cold sweat slicked his forehead. His skin felt clammy under Tan’s trembling fingers. Tan pressed two fingers to Fang’s neck, his own breath held hostage in his lungs. He waited, a second stretching into an eternity, until he felt it.
*Thump-thump. Thump-thump.*
It was there, but it was fast. Too fast. And faint.
"Fang, can you hear me?"
Tan tapped Fang’s cheek, harder this time. No response. Fang’s head lolled to the side, his breathing shallow and raspy. Panic, raw and blinding, clawed at Tan’s chest. He felt tears prick his eyes, hot and stinging.
*Think, Tan. Think.*
He grabbed his phone from his pocket, his hands shaking so violently he almost dropped it. He dialed emergency services, the numbers blurring through his tears.
"Emergency, which service?"
"Ambulance! Please, I need an ambulance! My boyfriend... he fainted, he’s not waking up, please come fast!"
The operator’s voice was calm, a lifeline in the storm of Tan’s fear. "Sir, I need you to calm down. Is he breathing?"
"Yes, he’s breathing, but he’s pale and he won't wake up!" Tan cradled Fang’s head in his lap, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "Please, just send someone. We live at..."
He rattled off the address, his voice breaking. The operator told him to keep Fang comfortable, to check his airway, to not give him food or water. Tan listened, nodding frantically even though they couldn't see him. He gently adjusted Fang’s position, tilting his chin back slightly to open the airway.
"Come on, Fang," Tan whispered, pressing a kiss to Fang’s cold temple. "You’re strong. You’re so strong. Just open your eyes for me. Please."
The minutes that followed were the longest of Tan’s life. The apartment was too quiet, too still. Tan kept talking to Fang, rambling about anything and everything just to fill the silence.
"I bought the jellies," Tan choked out, tears now streaming freely down his face to land on Fang’s shirt. "The peach-mango ones. I went to three stores. I remember you said you were craving them last week. I bought three containers. You have to wake up so you can eat them, okay? You can't let them go to waste."
Fang didn’t stir. His chest barely moved.
Tan felt a wave of nausea. *What if he’s sick? What if it’s his heart? What if I lose him?* The thought was a physical blow to his stomach. He tightened his grip on Fang’s hand, interlacing their fingers.
"Don't leave me," Tan pleaded, his voice a broken whisper. "I haven't told you enough. I haven't... just don't leave me."
Suddenly, a siren wailed in the distance, growing louder. Tan had never been so grateful to hear that sound in his entire life.
He didn't want to let go when the paramedics burst through the door, but he knew he had to. He stood back, pressing himself against the wall, wringing his hands together as they swarmed around Fang.
"He’s hypoglycemic," one of the paramedics noted after a quick check. "Blood sugar is dangerously low. Has he eaten today?"
Tan’s mind flashed back to the morning. Fang had rushed out with a cup of black coffee, skipping breakfast because he was late. He hadn't texted about lunch.
"I... I don't think so," Tan stammered. "He’s been working so hard. He forgot."
They loaded Fang onto a stretcher, hooking him up to monitors. Tan watched the steady beep of the heart monitor, terrified it would flatline at any second.
"Are you family?" the paramedic asked.
"I’m his boyfriend," Tan said, his voice gaining a sudden steeliness. "I’m going with him."
The ride to the hospital was a blur of lights and sirens. Tan sat in the passenger seat, clutching the strap of his bag, his knuckles white. He kept turning to look at Fang, who looked so small and fragile on the stretcher.
When they arrived at the ER, Fang was whisked away into a cubicle. Tan tried to follow, but a nurse gently stopped him.
"You need to let them work, sweetie. You can wait right there. We’ll come get you."
Tan sank into a plastic chair in the waiting room. The adrenaline that had been fueling him began to fade, replaced by an exhausted ache. He looked down at his hands. They were still shaking.
He buried his face in his hands, the events of the last hour playing on a loop in his mind. The quiet apartment. Fang on the floor. The stillness. It was a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
Time lost all meaning. He watched people come and go—a mother with a crying child, an old man holding his arm. He felt isolated in his own bubble of fear.
After what felt like a lifetime, a doctor in blue scrubs walked up to him. Tan shot to his feet, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"He’s stable," the doctor said immediately, and Tan’s knees nearly gave out. "It was a severe hypoglycemic episode. His blood sugar dropped critically low, likely due to lack of food and exhaustion. We’ve given him glucose, and he’s regaining consciousness."
"Can I... can I see him?"
The doctor smiled kindly. "He’s asking for you."
Tan didn't need to be told twice. He hurried down the hallway, following the numbers until he found the right cubicle.
Fang was lying in the hospital bed, looking pale but awake. There was an IV line in his hand, and his eyes were half-open, looking groggy and confused.
Tan stopped in the doorway, overwhelmed by a rush of relief so potent it made him lightheaded. He walked over to the bed, his movements slow this time, afraid he might shatter the moment.
"Hey," Tan whispered, his voice hoarse.
Fang turned his head slowly. His eyes focused on Tan, and a weak, tired smile touched his lips. "Hey."
Tan reached out, taking Fang’s hand carefully, avoiding the IV. He squeezed it tight. "You scared the hell out of me," Tan said, a tear escaping and rolling down his cheek.
"I'm sorry," Fang murmured, his voice raspy. "I just... I stood up to get water, and everything went black."
"You forgot to eat. Again." Tan tried to sound angry, to scold him, but it came out as a desperate plea. "Fang, you can’t do that. I thought... I thought I lost you."
"I know," Fang said softly. He squeezed Tan’s hand back. "I'm sorry, Tan. I just wanted to finish the project."
"Screw the project," Tan said fiercely. "Nothing is more important than you. Nothing."
Fang looked at Tan, really looked at him, and saw the redness around Tan’s eyes, the disheveled hair, the utter devastation on his face. He frowned. "Have you been crying?"
"Yes!" Tan admitted, wiping his face angrily. "I found you on the floor, Fang. I thought you were dead. I cried a lot."
Fang looked down at the sheets, looking ashamed. "I didn't mean to worry you."
"Just promise me," Tan said, leaning in close, his forehead resting against the rail of the bed. "Promise me you’ll take a break. Promise me you’ll eat."
"I promise," Fang whispered. He looked up at Tan. "Can we go home soon?"
"The doctor wants to keep you for observation for a few hours, just to make sure your sugar levels stabilize. But after that, I’m taking you home and putting you on bed rest. I’m going to cook for you, and you’re going to eat every bite."
Fang let out a soft chuckle. "That sounds... nice, actually."
They sat in silence for a moment, just holding hands, the beeping of the monitor providing a comforting rhythm. Tan’s breathing finally slowed down, matching the beat.
"Tan?" Fang asked after a while.
"Yeah?"
"You dropped something when you came in, didn't you?"
Tan blinked, confused for a moment, and then the memory hit him. He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah. I dropped the jellies."
"The peach-mango ones?"
"Yeah. The last three in the city."
Fang’s eyes widened slightly. "Are they broken?"
"I don't know," Tan admitted. "I left them there. I didn't care about the jellies, Fang. I only cared about you."
Fang looked at him with a gaze so full of love it made Tan’s heart ache. "Thank you," he said simply.
"For what?"
"For finding me. For calling for help. For caring."
"Always," Tan replied. He leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Fang’s lips, careful not to jostle him. It was a kiss filled with relief, gratitude, and a deep, enduring love.
An hour later, the doctor gave the all-clear. Fang was sitting up, color returning to his cheeks, though he was still tired. Tan helped him into his jacket, supporting his weight as they walked out of the hospital.
The night air was cool and crisp. Tan hailed a taxi for the short ride back to the apartment. When they walked through the front door, Tan guided Fang straight to the bedroom, tucking him into the blankets.
"Stay there," Tan commanded gently. "I'll be right back."
Tan went to the kitchen. The grocery bag was still lying on the floor where he had dropped it. He picked it up and inspected the contents. Two of the containers had cracked open, the jellies leaking onto the bottom of the bag. But one container, nestled safely between the others, was intact.
Tan washed his hands and carried the surviving container of peach-mango jelly into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed.
Fang propped himself up on his pillows, his eyes lighting up when he saw what Tan was holding. "You saved it?"
"I saved the best one," Tan said, peeling off the lid. He held out a spoonful to Fang. "Doctor’s orders. You need sugar."
Fang opened his mouth and accepted the jelly. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweet, fruity flavor. He closed his eyes, letting out a hum of satisfaction.
"It tastes better because you're here," Fang said, opening his eyes to look at Tan.
Tan felt his heart swell. He fed Fang another spoonful, and then another, watching the color return to his boyfriend's face with every bite.
"I love you, Fang," Tan said softly. "Next time you're hungry, wake me up. Call me. Even if I'm sleeping. Even if it's 3 AM. I'll get you food. I'll make you food. Just don't scare me like that again."
Fang reached up and cupped Tan’s cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear Tan hadn't realized had fallen. "I love you too, Tan. I'm not going anywhere."
Tan leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. The fear was still a lingering shadow in the back of his mind, but holding Fang’s hand, feeling the warmth of his skin, the shadow began to recede. Fang was safe. Fang was here. And that was all that mattered.
"More jelly?" Fang asked, breaking the silence.
Tan laughed, the sound bright and real again. "Yes. As much as you want. I'll buy out the store tomorrow if I have to. Just stay."
Fang smiled, that rare, soft smile that Tan loved more than anything in the world. "I'm staying. Right here."