180 DEGREES

What if all of it was a dream?

What if the difference was 180 degrees?

________

[5:05pm]

Kim Jongin was seated on a chair at the patient waiting area, piece of paper crumpled in his hand, IV stand beside him. Liquid dropping from the bottle was slow as the ticking of the clock.

Tick-tock, tick-tock

Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat

The only sounds that only Jongin can hear or it was like amplified only in his ear. The door of the emergency room opened. The doctor walks out sighing, he removes his glasses ad pinched his nose’ bridge. Following him was the nurse whose pace was painted with grief by the lost of colleague. Jongin again stood up as soon as the two of them left. It wasn’t because he likes to look but rather it was like his strings were being pulled towards the room. A loud cry pierced through the door, as Baekhyun leaned over the body that was on the hospital bed. Chanyeol tried to calm him down with eyes swelling of tears. Jongin just watched the scene through the door, face unmoved yet his chest feels tight.

Who is it? Is it someone I know?

“J-Jongin!” a familiar voice of a woman called to him.

He turned around and saw his mother’ crying face. He smiled at her sweetly yet the pain, the throb in his heart won’t stop. He held over it, to the cloth that he’s wearing.

I want this pain to stop...

“Do Kyungsoo! You Pabo!” Baekhyun yelled.

Do... Kyungsoo?

His heart pulsated upon hearing the name, eyes wide, and hands shaking.

“Are you okay Jongin?” his mother asked upon seeing her son’s terrified stated.

“Uh..yeah..” Jongin’s voice was trembling. “I... I want to go home...”

His mother held his head tight to her chest. Calming her dear son she whispers,

“It’s okay. Mommy will take you home.”

Jongin closes his eyes as he absorbs his mother’s warmth, as he tries to cover up what he was really feeling.

I’m scared...

The paper was still in his hand, as if glued to it.

_________

The next day Kim Jongin had checked out of the hospital. The doctors were amazed on how he just instantly woke up. A few cameras greeted them on their way out, for they want to get a new scoop on him.

[Model, Kim Jongin, recovered from his coma.]

For sure the headline of one of the tabloids the camera men were working on will have the headline like that. But Jongin never paid any attention to them. He just want to go home, the silence of his own slumber might calm down his heart that had been pounding through the sternum endlessly since he woke up. Their family car stopped in front of the hospital to get them. He seated inside beside his mom. No more words left his mouth after last time at the patient waiting area. Many were thinking it might be because of the accident, even his mom, when in fact he is healthy, not traumatized, unchanged. But why does he feel so empty inside? The bottom of his stomach turning. As soon as they reached their home, he took his bag from the back of the car and walk to the door that was held open by their house maid. Jongin’s family is rich, his father, a CEO of an oil company in Busan, his mother owns a jewelry store in Myeongdeong, his sisters, one is a stock broker, one is a news reporter. It was a perfect family, but not healthy for Jongin. He once longed for a normal family, someone who’d cook him seaweed soup for his birthday, who’d go to the grocery with him, who’s feed him ramyeon in a rainy day.

Ramyeon...

Just the thought of the food makes his head flinch, but not bad way.

This isn’t like home.

The azure blue wallpapers, picture of his family on the wall, a big aquarium and a grand piano. They were all familiar but not close to what he feel like home at that moment.

“Jongin?” his mother look worriedly at her son who looks surprised and estranged. Jongin shooks his head and smiled.

“I just... miss home. I’ll go unpack my stuff in my room.”

Jongin climb up the wooden stairs to his bedroom.  There was no change made since the last time he left. He opened his gym bag, bit by bit he took out his folded clothes and straightened them to his bed. All those designer clothes were all in black, gray and white. But there’s this bright yellow shirt that seemed out of place. He doesn’t remember owning a shirt nor buying it himself. Maybe a gift, he thought. But his friends and family, no one thought of giving him a plain bright yellow shirt as a gift. They’d usually shower him with golden watch, silver wrist bands or gift checks. He touches it with his palms lying on top of it, smoothing the wrinkled cloth. Like a bullet, a bit of memory came to his mind.

A pale thin boy was standing in front of him. Having this wide grin on his face and eye smile that makes them look small enough than its original size.

“That looks good on you,” the pale boy said.

“Really hyung?”

“yeah, but... it sort of makes you look darker.” The pale boy teased.

“ugh, hyung!”

Jongin punched him in the arm playfully. Both of them laughing inside a clothes store, no brand, nothing expensive.

“But it’s worth the price.”

“But it’s worth the price.” Jongin muttered from his mouth as he remembers what that pale boy said. He shook his head and continues to unpack his stuff. Only that yellow shirt differs from all of his expensive valuables.

_________________

[April 16, Wednesday]

Kim Jongin was back to his old pace. There were scars left from his accident but the rest were fine, no scars on his beautiful face that’s all that matters to everyone. It’s been four months after his confinement in the hospital. His family was happy to see him, surprised faces and bright smiles greeted him when they saw him at the hospital, all conscious and awake. A week after he was asked to go back to work because of the pending contracts that he had left before the crash.

“You will have a shoot for Calvin Klein,” his manager was reading off what’s written on the planner. “The day after that we’ll go to Jeju for the fashion show. Next is a party at a club in Hongdae named M2 where you’ll be meeting with the designer and other models you’ll be working with. Then the day after tomorrow…”

Jongin was sick. He was sick of hearing the schedules of what he’s going to do. He was just 20 yet it feels like he’s 27, working his off for the damn agency that’s been driving him like a slave. He wants freedom. He wants to get out of his cage at least once. Without leash or restraint that chokes him up.

“Can’t you send Kris instead?” he asked his manager.

His manager looks at him with surprised eyes.

“What?” he asked him.

“Nothing,” his manager replied. “Because you’ve always said that instead of giving it to Kris you’d do it. Even if you break your hip bone.”

“Did I really say that?” Jongin wondered how he became a workaholic like he was. The manager nodded and he replied,

“Don’t mind what I said before. Just clear my schedule.” He insisted.

Being in the state he was before, the manager agrees and become lenient about it and decided to let Kris have the catwalk.

________________

Jongin waited at the side of the road, holding only a piece of paper in his hands, a coat hanging on his shoulder, a wallet on his back pocket and a hand phone. He called for a taxi that was on duty. He scooted inside and leaned on the driver’s seat.

“Can you take me to this address?” he showed the paper to the taxi driver who nodded as a sign he knows where that place is.

“Thank you.”

Jongin relaxed on the smooth leather cover of the taxi, inhaling the car freshner that he coughs out since he doesn’t really like the smell of it and it makes him a bit nauseous. He decided to open the car window. The wind gushing through his hair, his elbow bent over the window of the car. He still can’t remember anything that had happen after the accident and the only clue he had was this piece of paper he found in the hospital.

“We’re here.”

He was standing in front of an apartment complex. He looked left and right before crossing the road to get inside. His palms were getting sweaty and his chest was thumping really hard.

What is it to get nervous about?

He rode the elevator and pressed the 14^th floor. 13 floors before he could get his answers. Before he could get to meet him.

Do Kyungsoo. Who are you?

____________

Jongin was at front door of the address in the paper he was holding.

This is it…

He knocks three times before someone opened it. A boy opened the door, face surprised to see a Jongin knocking at his door.

“Good morning. I’m looking for someone named Do Kyungsoo.”

The smaller boy swelled up at the mention of the name ‘Do Kyungsoo’.

“Are you his friend?”

“No. actually I came here to know who he was.”

“He’s not here.”

“Huh?”

“I said he’s not here!” the smaller guy yelled at him unintentionally that even he knows that what he did was rude.

“I-I’m sorry... it’s just that...” he started brushing his arms. He told Jongin the whole story and gave him a new address instead.

____________

The frozen grass had softened as it welcomes the spring sun shining all over the grassy plain beside the road. Jongin wore thin clothes, a shirt and washed jeans. Hands slipped in his pocket, he walks on the side of the pavement, trying not to have another accident again.

The building was there. There were a few visitors aside from him, but they got flowers and he had none in his hands. It was just a quick visit yet he has so many questions in his head that he might take a long time there for it to be answered. His palms were getting sweaty.

Nervous I guess...

He walks through the metal frame of the door, a few steps from the entrance he took a turn to his left then a few steps further he was there.

[Do Family]

“Do... Kyungsoo...”

Like a film being rewind, like the ones in his dreams, flashbacks came to his head...

[“So you’re a death god, are you here to take my soul?”]

[“So I guess I’m still gonna die.”
“You’re not scared?”
“No.”]

[“Really? You don’t know ramyeon?”]

[“I’ll be going now.”
“Take care!”]

[“I’m home!”]

[“…And Call me hyung from now on since I’m older than you.”]

[“Do they still hurt?”
“Here?” ”No.”
“But here,” “Yes. Still.”]

 [“Can I erase them for you?”]

[“Spaghetti with Kimchi.”
“Hmm..that sounds… different.”]

[“Jongin…” “You can do it…”]

[“I’m with someone special. His name is Kai. He is supposed to be my guide until I die.”]

[Thank you for Do Kyungsoo…
Thank you for letting me meet Hyung…]

 [“He’s Kim Jongin…”]

[“Look out!”]

[“I’m sorry….”]

[“I love you…”]

Jongin covers his face with his hands, his mind can’t take all of the flashbacks at once thus he broke down and cries on his knees.

“Hyung.... Hyung...”

He cries and cries until there were no more tears to cry out.

TADA!!!! An alternative ending~ this was the original idea. all the angst and stuff~ fufufu~