Jundylan accident au
chapter 1
The door slammed before Dylan could take it back.
The words. The accusations. The goddamn tears.
"Go, Thame," he'd choked out, voice trembling. "Just go."
And Thame had gone. Just like that — wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket, blinking through heartbreak, and walking out of Dylan's apartment.
Dylan hadn't meant it. Not really. But there were too many feelings, too many wounds neither of them had the right tools to fix.
He didn't know it would be the last time he'd see Thame conscious.
The call came less than an hour later.
A stranger's voice. Screaming tires. The words "critical condition." The way the world fell out from under him in a single breath.
Now, sitting in a plastic chair outside the ICU, Dylan couldn't breathe.
His palms were still stained with Thame's touch — the way they held each other one final time, fighting. And now Thame was in there, surrounded by machines, while Dylan sat out here, surrounded by guilt.
"Dylan?"
The voice was quieter than expected.
Dylan looked up and met the eyes of someone he hadn't seen in over a year.
Jun.
Thame's older brother. Taller. Calmer. All sharp eyes and quiet power.
And yet… his voice cracked just slightly.
"He's stable. For now."
Dylan stood too fast. "I—I didn't mean to—"
"You're not the reason," Jun said gently, stepping closer. "It was an accident."
But Dylan had already broken. "We fought. I pushed him away. He left my place crying and—and now he's in there and I—"
Jun caught him just before he collapsed, a steady arm around Dylan's shoulders. And Dylan — who hadn't let anyone hold him in months-- let himself fall into the arms of the one person who probably should've hated him. Should've accused Dylan for Thames' condition but…
Jun held him anyway.
He didn't know how much time had passed sitting out of the doors in the hospital corridor, with Thame's family and a few of their friends, they all don't know about the break up. Dylan doesn't have the heart to tell them.
They will sort it out after he has recovered-- they will and Dylan will apologize--- he was snapped out of his thoughts when a firm hand landed on his shoulder. Jun.
He isn't able to hold eye contact with any of Thame's family members, knowing he is at fault. And especially Jun, oh how embarrassed he is for breaking down in his arms.
"you should go home and rest" Jun said, calmly.
"No… I can stay, what if he wakes up-" but he was cut off . "you have been here for 8 hours now, go home and rest and eat something proper, you haven't had anything." Jun insisted.
Dylan wanted to argue, but didn't have the energy to. He booked a cab and went back to his apartment.
He just sat near the shoe stand for a while
The apartment felt too quiet now — too still for the weight it carried.
The fight was still echoing in the walls.
Thame's voice, cracking mid-sentence. The sound of the door slamming shut. The wetness in his eyes.
Dylan could still see it — the way Thame had looked at him like he was breaking for the last time.
He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes burning.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
Hi. It's Jun. I asked one of Thame's friends for your number.
He's stable through the night. No changes yet. Just wanted to let you know.
Dylan stared at the message for a long time.
He read it three times, like it might rearrange itself and say "he's awake." Or "he's okay." Or "you can breathe now."
But it didn't.
He typed back.
Thank you.
And… I'm sorry. About everything.
Jun didn't reply right away.
Dylan didn't expect him to.
He stood up eventually, legs stiff, heart heavier than before. He didn't know if he'd sleep. He didn't know what to do with himself.
But he knew one thing — he'd be back at the hospital by morning.
Even if he wasn't sure he had the right to be.
---
He went to the hospital with 2 bags full of breakfast for everyone. He knows he can't fix anything, so he tries to be useful.
Thames' best friends – Nano, Pepper and Po and his older brother Jun stayed the night, he greeted them with a half- hearted smile and offered them all the breakfast.
Jun helped him serve it, Jun took the second bag of food from Dylan's hands. His fingers brushed his knuckles, just barely.
Dylan flinched — not at the touch, but at how gently it was offered. and he even asked about Dylan's health which had him feeling more guilty than ever because it was not Dylan's life at risk last night, it was Jun's younger brother's but then too he cares about Dylan, which made him want to crawl out of his skin.
After a while, Jun gently convinced Nano, Pepper, and Po to go home, take a shower, and rest. They hesitated, reluctant to leave, but eventually gave in after being promised constant updates on Thame's condition.
Around 1 PM, Thame's assigned doctor approached. His parents had arrived by then too, and the news was quiet but hopeful — they could finally see him.
Dylan froze. Just for a second, he stood there like an idiot, his breath caught. The doctor had already walked off when Jun turned to him and said, "Let's go."
Thame's parents were already heading toward the ICU doors, faces alight with cautious hope. But something inside Dylan resisted. He didn't move. Didn't follow. Didn't feel like he deserved to.
"I… I think I'll just stay here," he murmured. "You go ahead."
Jun looked at him for a second — really looked — and just nodded before following his parents inside. He didn't question it. He understood. Somehow, Jun always did.
Dylan sank back into one of the plastic chairs, feeling like a stranger in a place that used to feel like home. Thame's family — the ones who once called him their third son — now felt distant. Or maybe it was Dylan who'd made himself distant.
He rubbed at his face, pressing his palms against his skin, willing the heat to ground him. To burn away the guilt.
He didn't know how long he sat like that, frozen in silence, until a hand landed firmly on his shoulder. Dylan looked up. Jun stood there, his face unreadable.
Dylan straightened up quickly, wiping his face and clearing his throat. He didn't want Jun to see the tear tracks.
"Uh… how is he?" he asked, voice rough.
Jun exhaled slowly. "The doctors said… he's in a coma."
Dylan blinked slowly, trying to absorb the words. He's in a coma.
It echoed like a scream in a quiet room.
"Oh," Dylan said. Just that. Just 'oh.' Like he'd been told the weather. Like his chest wasn't collapsing in slow motion.
Jun sat beside him, not touching him this time. Just close enough to feel like someone was still there.
"It's not your fault," Jun said again, voice low. "It really wasn't."
But Dylan didn't believe him. Couldn't. Not when the last words he'd said to Thame were shouted through a slammed door.
The knews was speard through the relatives and many came to console Thame's parents, Jun's friends came too, they were busy… Dylan wasn't. his parents called, but they were out of town, he didn't have anyone to console him, to distract him from the fact that he is the reason of Thame's condition. His brain was his worst enemy, cause it kept repeating their last fight over and over again.
The harsh words, the final warnings, the tears and then finally thame leaving… he would do anything to take back whatever he said to Thame but that can't happen now, he can't undo anything so he sits there, choking on his own thoughts.
Later it was decided that Jun and Dylan will stay the night at the hospital . both of them will sleep in Thame's hospital room, in which he was recently transferred.
When Dylan finally had a look at Thame his eyes started to water, he stood beside his bed for a long time just looking at the unconscious Thame, he then held to the sleeve of Thame's hospital gown and choked out a wet , "I'm so sorry".
Jun came back into the room silently, glancing at Dylan still hunched beside the bed. His eyes lingered on Dylan's hand clinging to Thame's gown, his posture too still to be okay.
"I brought you water," Jun said quietly, placing a bottle beside the chair.
Dylan nodded without looking up.
"You don't have to stay," he whispered after a moment, not sure who he was trying to protect — Jun, or himself.
"I know," Jun replied. "But I want to."
Dylan finally looked at him.
"You should hate me," he said, and his voice cracked on the word. "You should be furious."
Jun gave a slow shrug. "Maybe. But I'm too tired to hate anyone tonight."
That made Dylan laugh softly — not because it was funny, but because he was unraveling.
"You always were better than me," Dylan muttered, and Jun didn't deny it.
Instead, he sat across from Dylan on the windowsill, folding his arms.
"I knew something was wrong between you two," Jun said. "Even before he told me."
Dylan's head snapped up. "He told you?"
"Bits and pieces," Jun replied. "He didn't go into detail. But he looked… tired, every time your name came up."
That stung more than it should've.
"Did he ever say why he stayed?" Dylan asked.
Jun considered that. Then: "He loved you."
Dylan swallowed thickly, looking back at Thame's unmoving form. "I don't know how to be without him."
"Maybe you don't have to be," Jun said. "But if you do… you'll survive. He wouldn't want you to fall apart."
Dylan looked at him again — really looked this time.
Jun's expression was unreadable. Calm, but with something bitter coiled beneath it.
And in that quiet, the tension bloomed.
Not romantic yet. Not even close.
But something changed.
Noticing each other a little differently.
Being the only ones who understood this particular grief.
---
They got ready to go to sleep, Jun will be sleeping on a mattress on the floor and Dylan will take the sofa. Even after many attempts of sleeping on the floor, Jun just firmly denied Dylan too.
In the dark, Dylan's voice finally broke the stillness.
"You don't have to go to work?"
Jun replied, his voice low but steady, "I'm a data scientist. I can work from home."
He paused, then added softly, "You?"
"I took a week off," Dylan answered, the numbness in his tone making it sound like a confession.
Jun nodded, though Dylan couldn't see it. After a few seconds, Jun spoke again.
"As I said before… you don't have to stay."
Dylan didn't reply.
There were a hundred things he could have said — I want to stay. I don't want to be alone. I can't leave him.
But he said none of them.
He let the silence stretch between them, taut and unsaid, until the faintest light began to press against the windowpane.
Dylan barely slept. He doubted Jun did either.
But somehow, sharing the night — the grief, the silence, the closeness — made the weight of it all just a little more bearable.
It was late morning when Dylan woke to the rustle of fabric and soft splashes of water. The hospital room was still quiet — but not still.
Jun stood by Thame's bedside, sleeves rolled up, carefully soaking a small towel in warm water from a basin the nurse had left. He worked in silence, focused, gentle — running the damp cloth over Thame's arms, wiping away the sweat that had built overnight. He moved with the kind of care that came from years of being an older brother — part muscle memory, part love.
Dylan didn't say anything. He sat up slowly, watching from the sofa.
He was wringing the cloth, softly wiping Thame's neck when he finally spoke, eyes still on his brother.
"He hates hospitals," Jun said quietly. "Always has. The lights, the smell, the way everyone walks on eggshells."
Dylan swallowed. His voice came out rough. "You're really good with him."
Jun paused just a second, then gave a faint smile — small and tired. "You learn, when you've raised someone half your life."
Dylan stood slowly, walking closer but still keeping a bit of distance. He didn't want to intrude. But something in him pulled forward, tethered by guilt and something else he couldn't name.
"I should've known better," he said. "I should've been the one looking out for him."
Jun wrung the cloth out again, still calm. "You loved him. That's not nothing."
The words hit Dylan like a bruise. He looked away.
Jun finished with the sponge bath and gently combed Thame's hair back with his fingers, the same way he probably had when they were younger.
Dylan found himself saying, "You're not mad at me?"
Jun finally looked at him. Really looked.
"I was," he admitted. "The night of the accident, I wanted to scream at you. Blame you for everything. But when I saw you at the hospital—broken, crying—I realized… you're hurting too."
He folded the towel, setting it aside.
"I don't think you meant to hurt him," Jun added. "But you did. And you're living with that."
Dylan felt his throat tighten. He blinked fast, looking at Thame — so still. So quiet.
"I'd do anything to take it back," he whispered.
"I know."
They stood in silence for a long beat, the space between them now thinner, charged.
Jun looked exhausted. So did Dylan.
But the way Jun had cared for Thame — that softness, that patience — it was something Dylan hadn't let himself feel in months.
He wanted to say more. But the words didn't come.
Not yet.
The rest of the day went by in a faze, Jun's parent's bought food and stayed by Thame's side, Dylan went to his apartment to get a shower but ended up breaking down again on the bed where he and Thame use to lay.
Dylan returned to the hospital by evening. He looked cleaner, less ragged, but his eyes were still red. Jun noticed the minute he walked in.
"You okay?" Jun asked, voice low, almost hesitant.
Dylan gave a hollow laugh. "Define okay."
Jun didn't push further. Just nodded and stepped aside to let him take the seat by Thame's bed.
They sat like that for a long time — Thame between them, machines humming softly in the background. The weight of the day settled into their bones. Neither spoke much.
Later that night, when Thame's parents left, Dylan leaned back in the plastic chair and covered his face with his hands. The silence between them cracked.
"I—I saw the bedsheets," he whispered suddenly, voice tight. "At my place. The ones we used to fight over because Thame hated the color." He laughed again — short and sharp, breaking at the end. "I just sat there and cried. Like a fucking idiot."
Jun looked over slowly. "You're not an idiot."
Dylan's hands dropped to his lap. His eyes were wet again.
"I keep thinking—what if I hadn't said what I did? What if I'd just—held on a little longer?" His voice cracked. "He was crying, Jun. I let him leave like that."
Jun stood and crossed the room quietly. He didn't speak, not yet. He just reached out and sat beside Dylan on the worn sofa.
Dylan shook his head. "I don't know how to forgive myself."
Jun's voice was quieter than ever. "Then don't. Not yet."
Dylan looked at him — startled.
Jun met his gaze with that same quiet steadiness. "Feel it. All of it. You loved him. You messed up. That's not something you can skip through."
Dylan broke then — chest heaving, breath hitching. The guilt, the grief, the shame of every word he'd ever shouted, every moment he hadn't been patient enough — it all spilled out.
He curled forward slightly, fists in his lap, shoulders trembling.
And Jun — without hesitating — reached out and pulled him in.
It wasn't romantic. Not yet. Not exactly. But it was intimate. Deep. A crack in the wall Dylan had built around himself since the night Thame left.
Dylan clung to Jun like he might fall apart entirely.
"I'm sorry," he kept whispering. "I'm so sorry."
Jun didn't shush him. Just let him fall apart.
And somewhere in the silence, somewhere in the mess of grief and comfort and the fading hum of machines — Dylan looked up through the blur of tears.
Jun's eyes were glassy too.
And then Jun leaned in.
Slowly. Cautiously. Like he wasn't entirely sure it was allowed — but did it anyway.
He kissed Dylan.
It wasn't urgent or polished — it tasted like salt and exhaustion and a thousand unsaid things. It was the kind of kiss born out of a shared ache, not desire. A quiet offering in the middle of everything broken.
Dylan froze.
For a moment, his body didn't know how to react — only that it had been starved for something soft, something human. He didn't kiss back — not right away. But he didn't pull away either.
Jun was already retreating, eyes dropping. "I'm—sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"No," Dylan croaked, voice hoarse. "Don't be."
Jun looked at him again, startled. But Dylan wasn't looking for more. He just… didn't want to run.
They sat there, breathing in the weight of what just happened. No promises. No confessions.
Just two people breaking in the same direction.
Two days passed in a blur of hospital corridors and the haunting stillness of Dylan's apartment.
Thame's condition remained unpredictable — one moment stable, the next, his blood pressure dipping dangerously. He needed constant medical attention and a guardian at his side at all times.
Tonight, Po — Thame's best friend — volunteered to stay after Dylan had spent the entire day by his side.
Jun offered to drive Dylan home. He agreed.
The tension between them was unspoken but thick, clinging to the quiet car ride like humidity. They hadn't brought up the kiss. Not once. But it hung between them anyway, suspended in silence.
Dylan couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn't stop feeling the shame coil in his chest. Being kissed by Thame's older brother — now, of all times — it felt like something he shouldn't let himself want. But still... he couldn't deny that it had happened.
Jun's car rolled to a stop in front of Dylan's apartment building.
Dylan hesitated, then asked, "Do you want to come up with me?"
Jun turned slightly, eyes calm. "Do you need help with anything?"
"No, not like that," Dylan said quickly, flustered. "I just… I don't want to be alone there again."
A pause. Then Jun nodded, simple as always. "Okay."
Dylan blinked. He hadn't expected it to be that easy.
But maybe with Jun, some things just were.
The apartment felt colder than Dylan remembered.
He hadn't touched the bed since the night Thame left. Sheets still slightly crumpled from their last sleep together. The ghost of Thame still clung to the corners — in the coffee mug left on the table, the charger curled beside the bed, the faint scent on the pillow.
After all for the last few days , he just came and left, hardly stayed.
Jun stepped inside quietly, his eyes scanning the space but saying nothing. He didn't comment on the clutter. Or the photos still stuck to the fridge. Or the fact that Dylan's eyes were already glassing over.
Dylan placed his keys on the counter and took a shaky breath. "You can take the bed. I'll take the couch."
"you sure?"
"Yeah," Dylan replied, already turning away. "I… don't sleep much in there anyway."
Jun didn't push. He simply nodded, took off his shoes, and moved to set his bag down gently.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward, just heavy. Like both of them were tiptoeing around something too fragile to speak aloud. Eventually, Dylan offered him a clean towel, and they took turns in the shower. Jun emerged in a worn t-shirt and sweats, and Dylan avoided looking too long at the lines of his collarbone or the way the tension sat in his shoulders.
The apartment felt too small for all this silence.
Too full of memory.
Dylan curled up on the couch and Jun turned off the lights, but neither of them slept. The minutes ticked by. Streetlights cut slashes of pale gold through the curtains.
"I used to think," Dylan whispered into the dark, "that he'd always come back to me. No matter how bad the fight was."
Jun was quiet for a while. "Maybe he still will."
Dylan swallowed hard. "You kissed me."
"I know," Jun said softly.
A longer silence.
"I don't know what that means," Dylan admitted.
"Me neither."
Another beat.
"But I didn't regret it," Jun said.
Dylan blinked at the ceiling.
And for the first time in days, he let himself close his eyes.
Next Morning
The sun crawled in slow, painting the room in pale gold and quiet warmth. Dylan was already sitting up on the couch when Jun woke, hair slightly tousled in an endearing way, eyes heavy from sleep.
They didn't say much — they didn't need to.
Jun made coffee while Dylan packed some food for the hospital. They moved around each other like two people who'd spent years learning the rhythm of grief.
When they finally stepped out of the apartment together, there was no mention of the kiss. No plans. No labels.
Just the weight of everything unsaid sitting quietly between them.
They reached the hospital and Dylan let the familiar smell of doctors and medicines fill his lungs, the day passed in a haze, but today everyone was here, Thame's parents, all three of his best friends. they were all having a quiet dinner at the hospital cafeteria.
Just Nano and Pepper having a light conversation.
Just then, a nurse stumbled upon their table, he asked, "Are you the guardians of the patient in ward 43?"
Thame's mother was up in a beat, "yes, is there a problem?"
"He is awake."