The elevator lands on the first floor, and with the key card placed firmly between his thumb and index finger, Yongguk strides across the lobby. The receptionist looks up at him with quelled curiosity, but her coworker just stares at him in unrestrained pleasure. “Thanks for the card,” Yongguk says, placing it on the counter. He promptly grabs his Shi Shi Mato toy and wags its body until the ears flip back and forth.

“Was that all you needed?” The receptionist asks. She glances at you for confirmation, but you just shake your head to prove that you don’t really understand what just happened, either.

Yongguk walks out of the hotel breezily, hugging Shi Shi to his chest like its some sort of shield. You squint at the glaring lights that stream from the tops of the buildings to across the street and wonder where your wish has landed. Did anyone see it? Will anyone read it? It makes you pleased and embarrassed all at the same time. You wonder if anyone who knows Yongguk will read your wish and immediately understand. That would be nice, actually. You’d have some sort of bond with a complete stranger. Moments like that – connecting with people because of the things you can relate to – are incomparable.

“It’s late,” Yongguk finally admits. You stifle a yawn, and he looks at you with a tiny smile that makes you entirely too happy. “I’m going to leave for the hospital tomorrow, so – “

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll be gone for a week, maybe two,” he says, and then his head in apology. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, even though your heart contradicts your words. You walk beside him, paying attention to the shape of his steps, to his shadow that connects with yours. “So you’re going home?”

“Yeah. I’m going over to Himchan’s tonight,” he tells you. “Sorry I couldn’t hang out with you more.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, ducking your head so that your hair covers your eyes. “So … I’ll see you.”

“Yep,” he agrees. He makes a move to walk away, but then he remembers something. “Before I forget,” he starts hesitantly, “Just in case anything happens … “ he pulls you into a hug, surprising you with the unpredictable action. Everything about him is warm. His breath that spreads across your neck, his arms that hold you firmly and closely, his body that engulfs you in its familiarity. It’s all warm. Then he pulls back, and you feel cold again, but the boyish grin on his face dissipates those thoughts. “That’s … for in case anything happens,” he says, not wanting to create a sappy goodbye. You understand the implication in his vague words and just nod, refusing to be daunted by the future.

“Bye,” you call. He raises his Shi Shi Mato in the air and uses the bunny to wave you an adorable goodbye before he turns around and vanishes into the night.

-----

Two weeks. It feels like a long time. It feels like forever. It feels like … it feels like eternity.

You’ve been so used to doing something every day that suddenly not having someone to be with feels so darn lonely.

Which makes you feel pathetic, in a way. Are you that pitiful that your only satisfaction lies in being with someone who can make you feel like you’re worth something?

It’s horrible when you’re alone. The whispers are louder. The thoughts are richer. Everything is more ominous than before, because you don’t have another person’s words to drown them out.

You don’t like having to rely on someone. You don’t. You’re good at being alone, even if you don’t like it. You’re good at convincing yourself that you’re okay, even when you’re not. And you’re good at pushing people away, even when all you want to do is find someone to hold on to.

But you didn’t do that with Yongguk, did you? Maybe it’s because when you first met him, he was a strange person to begin with, a gu