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Guangyan considers obsessive to be a bit too strong a word. Besides, it has some disturbing connotations he’d rather not be applied to the situation.
Concerned he’d admit to. He could even, if under duress, allow for clingy. But really, it was reasonable and appropriate, all things considered. It’s not like he was the only one, and no one really complained. Not even Pu Yiyong.
Or, he did complain. He complained a lot. Sighed and rolled his eyes and glared and muttered to himself. But those weren’t real complaints, those were normal and actually Guangyan was more than happy for them. Happy because it was hard to explain to someone why extended silence was something to fear, why stillness only made him more jittery.
Guangyan was convinced that Yi Yong understood anyway. Understood why they flocked to him, why they looked at him with such… concern. He let them, let them invade his home and space and time and Guangyan was grateful, really truly he was. It was a good thing, it was nice, it was lively. It was also, maybe, a bit too much. Maybe, sometimes it would be nice if there were less people around.
That’s what made Chuying call him obsessive. As if she had any ground to stand on, she was the worst of them all, as if she didn’t have her own home to go to, Guangyan at least lived here.
Almost. Close enough.
It didn’t seem to matter much, most days, the differentiation between homes. It hadn’t mattered for a long time.
“Why are you here?” Yiyong would ask. Guangyan would say it was revenge. Besides, it was tactical, just in case. Hadn’t Yiyong himself mentioned it was useful to have a doctor around?
Those arguments never seemed to convince Yiyong but he wouldn’t continue to argue, he’d just sneer and let Guangyan do what he pleased. And what he pleased to do was stick as close to Yiyong as he possibly could. Out of concern. Of course.
Concern because it wasn’t like Yiyong was happy to sit and rest, even after his second coma, no he dived right back in where he’d left off and it kept them all busy. Someone had to look after him, help him. Unfortunately, Guangyan’s stupid internship came in the way of this, so he had to share the task. Sometimes, as he looked at his choices and priorities, it did irk him a little bit that his concern led to this.
Some days he came back late from the hospital and was pulled into searching parking lots for cars that might or might not exist and might or might not be important and they wouldn’t come back home until after sunrise and he’d have to wake up again just a couple hours later and his vision was going blurry but it was fine. It was fine because for those few hours he would, no matter how tired he was, still notice if Yiyong moved, the wonderous advantages of a bed certainly not made to fit two.
Guangyan wasn’t obsessive.
If he couldn’t look too long at Yiyong sleeping face without feeling anxious, that was a reasonable reaction. If he himself slept best sitting at a table surrounded by voices, that made sense. If he developed a habit of nudging Yiyong only to feel him nudge back, to rest his hand against his chest only to feel his heartbeat… it was out of concern.
If he, when he woke in the middle of the night and Yiyong was still and silent next to him, shifted a bit too much and accidentally woke him up that was… that was something Yiyong caught onto terrifyingly fast. But to kick him from the bed was still a bit harsh.
“Why are you here?” Yiyong asked again.
“Don’t be rude,” his mother told him.
“He lives next door; he can eat there!”
“We’re out of food,” Guangyan said. “I think.”
“You should go check, just to make sure.”
“No time for that, I’m on a tight schedule.”
Guangyan might also have developed a fondness for the Yiyong Glares. They were a sign that he was there, awake and well.
It was a life of hypotheticals which held up Guangyan, for good or worse. Some of them he knew should be certainties but allowing them that kind of treatment might give the rest ideas, and that would be far more trouble than it was worth. Maybe.
The glare always appeared when Yi Yong looked up from whatever he was doing to find Guangyan and Chuying sitting there watching him, united in understanding and… concern. There was a possibility he didn’t scold them for it because he preferred this to the more direct shows of concern. So, he’d just glare, and then return his attention to his task.
Guangyan convinced Yiyong to let him watch as he’d draw. And by convince he meant he simply refused to leave and eventually Yiyong– after attempting persuasion, bribery, and physical displacement – gave up. Guangyan wasn’t looking at what he was drawing anyway, he’d see eventually, but this was for something else. It was to simply observe a breathing living person in all his minute and mundane movements. The even rise and fall of breaths, they way eyes tracked across space, every blink, every twitching muscle.
Sometimes Guangyan would combine these times with studying. Would list muscles and bones in his mind as he catalogued them on Yiyong’s person. If he was bored enough he’d extrapolate and move on to organs. Just to make sure.
“Why do you always do that?” Yiyong asked once, his heart beating under Guangyan’s hand. Steady and strong
“Just making sure,” he replied.
“Of what? That I’ve still got a heart? Shouldn’t a doctor be able to tell from further away?”
“I know that. Just making sure it’s working.”
“Clearly, it is.”
“It didn’t always.”
Guangyan doesn’t know if Yiyong glares at him, he keeps his eyes closed. There is silence, for a breath or ten, then comes a small sigh and a hand, warm, settling over Guangyan’s.
Obsessive is definitely too strong a word.
Still, it’s better than the alternatives that could fit into the space. For now.