Nurse Nayoung yawned as she gowned up outside Isolation Room 3. Normally she felt crabby at these 4 a.m. checks, but the boy in room 3 always cheered her up, even at ungodly hours. She snapped her gloves on and tightened her mask before opening the door quietly. She took a moment to watch the figure in the bed before she had to wake him up.

“Poor little guy,” she whispered.

Sanghyuk had come in two weeks ago looking like death. This was his third stay in reverse isolation, but this time was more serious. His mother had found him unconscious in his room and rushed him right to the ER, where they knew him by name and sent him up to the isolation ward.

Nayoung’s heart went out to Sanghyuk, but also to his family. Mrs. Han was a single mom with two sons, and Sanghyuk’s older brother Wonshik was often seen in the hallway with a change of clothes for his mother and a grin for his brother before going to school. His mother hadn’t left the hospital since bringing Sanghyuk in and the worry lines above her eyes were getting deeper by the day.

Being immunocompromised would be difficult for anyone to have to live with, but for a 10-year-old boy who wanted to play with his friends it was doubly hard. Sanghyuk was often restless and bored and chattered away to the nurses when they came in, clearly craving human contact. Nayoung always tried her best to cheer him up with stickers, coloring books, or a surprise dessert on his food tray.

He’d been looking better after having a scare on his first day with a possible lung infection—the team had had a respiratory therapist in Sanghyuk’s room the first week. These days he’d gotten some of his appetite back, he was sleeping better, and had put some color back into his cheeks, which were all great signs, and he was looking forward to going home soon.

The greatest joy of Nayoung’s job was not having to see her patients again.

Sanghyuk had worn himself out earlier fighting the nurses over his injection and had fallen asleep no more than two bites into his dinner tray and had remained so for several hours.

He was fitful now though, which wasn’t an immediate cause for concern, but his face was flushed and sweaty, which was.

"Hyukkie,” she murmured, shaking the boy gently. “Time to wake up.”

Sanghyuk didn’t immediately respond, but moved a little before half opening his eyes. Nayoung took note of the fever glaze in his eyes and took out her thermometer while checking his pulse. If Sanghyuk had a fever that could substantially set his condition back.

"Open up, Hyukkie.” When he didn’t, she poked the thermometer into his mouth firmly, disregarding his whimpers of protest.

A minute later the beeping thermometer confirmed her suspicions. “103 degrees, Hyukkie,” she clucked, stowing it away and taking out a blood pressure cuff. “You’re supposed to be getting better.” She smiled at him, trying to make him smile back. He turned his head away on his pillow. “Okay hon, tell me what hurts.”

Instead of answering, Sanghyuk started coughing, deep rattling coughs from deep inside his chest. Nayoung stopped smiling and helped him sit up, rubbing her hand across his back soothingly as he tried to catch his breath.

He coughed and coughed until he finally threw up onto the covers, and then started crying for his mom.

“Oh honey, I know, it’s awful.” Nayoung bundled the sobbing boy in her arms and lifted him off the bed and into the armchair. He was trembling with tears and chattering with cold and she hugged him tighter. “Should we get you cleaned up?” She felt him nod against her shoulder and she pushed the call button.

Thirty minutes later, Sanghyuk was back in bed with new sheets, clean pajamas, a dose of medication, and an oxygen mask left there for him by the respiratory therapist. Nayoung made a note in his chart for the doctor and left the boy to sleep.

*          *          *

Jaehwan patted his pocket to make sure the small notepad he’d bought hadn’t slipped out.

They were back at the hospital to finish up the remaining cleaning to be done. This time he’d unfortunately been assigned the opposite end of the building, but he’d managed to swap with Hongbin by promising tonight’s soju on him.

He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stop thinking about those few minutes outside that boy’s window. It seemed Sanghyuk had managed to worm his way into Jaehwan’s mind somehow, and now, two days later, he wanted to make the boy smile again.

After getting situated in his harness and doing inventory on his tool belt – patting his pocket for the notepad yet again – Jaehwan dropped down and began work. He figured he should do something actually productive before counting down to the 13^th floor window.

He worked methodically, mindlessly. Soap, dry, move on. Over and over until he’d finished most of his section and found himself on the 14^th floor.

He glanced around, dropped down a floor, and located the right window – fourth window from the right corner.

The last time he’d seen the boy he’d been fighting off the nurses. Jaehwan was hoping to find him in better spirits now. But when he peeked in, he saw the complete opposite.

Sanghyuk looked tinier than ever tucked securely into the bed. The same arm was hooked up to the IV while hugging the ragged teddy bear Jaehwan remembered seeing tossed on the floor the last time. He was lying on his back, legs curled to the side, and clear tubes looped around his ears and disappeared into his nose. Jaehwan presumed he was receiving oxygen.

The poor kid was drowning in tubes and wires.

Jaehwan thought he might be asleep, but then Sanghyuk turned his head to face the window, and he could see that his eyes were half-open, but slightly unfocused. He couldn’t be sure Sanghyuk would even hear him, but he tapped on the window, beamed out his brightest smile, and waved enthusiastically.

Sanghyuk’s eyes focused and widened a fraction. His lips curved into a weak, but delighted, smile. The hand not attached to the IV fluttered in the direction of the papers on the table, but Jaehwan shook his head.

He pulled out his notepad and pen.

How are you feeling? he wrote, and pushed the pad against the window. Sanghyuk squinted for a moment before giving Jaehwan a thumbs-up against his blanket. It appeared lifting his arm required too much effort.

I bet you’ll be out here washing windows with me in no time! Jaehwan wrote. Sanghyuk smiled wider and Jaehwan thought he was laughing a little.

Would you like to be up here?

Sanghyuk nodded.

It’s a little scary.

The boy wrinkled his nose and shook his head. He slid his arms so they were parallel to his body and poked his hands out.

Jaehwan was confused for a moment, and then he laughed. Iron Man? he wrote. Sanghyuk nodded. You’re much stronger than Iron Man. I can tell.

This time Sanghyuk’s smile showed all his teeth.