My tolerance level for hospitals was zero.

The insane beeping of medical machinery, click clacks of the nurses' heels and the lucid aroma of antiseptic and dextrose drove me to the edge. The only thing that kept me in my right mind was my crucial need to see my father safe, well and sound.

“You should ask one of the receptionists,” Jongin suggested, seeing that no sight of Dad could be found in the crowded emergency room. We took the elevator and approached the second floor lobby. A sullen-looking, middle-aged woman welcomed us with a warm smile.

“Hi, how may I help you?”

With a slight stutter, I told her my father’s name, and after a few taps on her keyboard, Dad was apparently inside “Room 214, straight ahead, on the left hand-side of the corridor”.

Jongin led the way, loosely holding my hand. I was truly grateful that he came with me, because if he hadn’t, I would have fainted right then and there in the emergency room after inhaling a bit of the dreaded hospital scent.

I knocked lightly then turned the knob straightaway. The first thing I saw was Dad lying on an inclined hospital bed, all sorts of wiring attached onto him. He appeared to be sleeping, and that was all I needed to start to calm down.

“Hyemi,” my mother called softly and came to me, my hair, “where were you?”

“Is he okay?” I asked with an insistent tone. I could explain later, I needed to know what happened first.

“He’s fine, honey,” she sighed, “he collapsed while taking the garbage out. The doctor noted it was from fatigue. You know how he’s been taking late shifts these days.”

Christmas was due in exactly a week, and hearing that was greater than any material things anyone could ever gift me with.

She was still my hair, but her eyes weren’t on me.

Jongin coughed and gave me a soft nudge.

“Oh- uh- t-this is Jongin,” I muttered and Jongin bowed. “Jongin, this is my mother.”

“Nice to meet you, Jongin,” she politely responded then turned to me again, shooting me a look emblazoned with the message that I really had some explaining to do later. “Luckily, Kyungsoo stayed after you left,” she continued, “and helped me get here.”

Oh.

I noticed Kyungsoo sitting down on a plastic chair leaning against a wall. He looked battered and his eyes were focused intensely on my right hand, which was still holding onto Jongin’s.

It completely slipped my mind, so hastily, I broke away. Jongin coughed and mouthed a “sorry” to me.

“Why don’t you two sit down while I get something from the cafeteria so we can eat,” Umma headed for the door.

“No, stay here,” I stopped her, “you’re tired, Umma. I’ll go and get the food.”

“Me, too,” Kyungsoo and Jongin simultaneously spoke and stood up from their seats.

They froze.

I froze.

Mum chuckled.

“Okay, then,” she laughed, “since you’re all so young and full of energy, anyway, you can all get the food.”

--

“Four bowls of bulgogi, please,” I half-smiled at the cafeteria lady. It was relieving to talk to someone again, especially after the longest and the most awkward walk of my life with Kyungsoo and Jongin. Not one of us uttered a single word – just an array of simultaneous coughing and throat-clearing. I was a bit uneasy and annoyed, since no one even asked them to come with me.

“Here you go,” the lady chirped and handed me the food, “enjoy!”

“I’ll carry it.”

Jongin took the bags from me and we made our way back to the room in the same manner – only this time accompanied with the irritating sound of plastic bags crinkling. I had my head down and arms crossed, not daring to look at either of them. We were the mirror image of the three people in the college cafeteria two months ago.

And we were probably all to blame.

Appa was still sleeping when we returned to the room. Closing the door behind me, Kyungsoo sat where he was before and Jongin propped himself down beside him. I settled on the edge of the bed by Dad’s feet. Umma unwrapped and distributed the bulgogi, and we commenced eating. For a good few minutes, nobody said anything – we were all so distracted by what probably was the best hospital-cafeteria-made bulgogi.

“That was heavenly,” Mum cooed, breaking the accumulated silence.

Then she turned to me, eyebrows raised in curiosity. I took that as a will-you-please-tell-me-what-you-were-doing-with-that-strange-boy kind of look.

“Uh… earlier, I was- uh… Jongin and I were-”

“Watching Running Man,” Jongin finished off for me.

Indeed we were.

“Mr. Park and I were watching it, too,” Kyungsoo spoke lowly, “in your living room. Through your TV.”

Jongin and I stiffened as Kyungsoo’s sarcasm dominated the whole atmosphere. I knew exactly what he was trying to do.

I understood that I was pretty damn unreasonable for running away from him just as when he had mustered up the courage to honestly tell me how he felt.

And it stung.

“So you stayed to watch it with my Dad?” I found myself asking. What reason did he have to stay for longer anyway?

“No,” he replied quite sternly, “I thought you’d come back straightaway. I was waiting for my sweater.”

It took three whole seconds for my brain to process what he was talking about.

“Stay warm and get home safely.”

I still had the sweater on.

“Sorry,” I bowed and hastily took the sweater off and handed it to him.

Did I just bow to Kyungsoo?

“You’re awfully polite today, Hyemi,” my mother laughed at me. “Back then you would’ve even hit him with it.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just looked down at my shoes. Jongin was intently eyeing his, too.

“Back then I wouldn’t have given it to her.”

At this, I felt his eyes were on me.

Indeed they were.

“I- uh- have to get home now, my parents are home,” Jongin stood and cleared his throat. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Park. I hope Mr. Park recovers soon,” he bowed and my mother shook his hand.

“Thank you for taking Hyemi here,” she smiled and ushered him out. Then with a last and somehow obligatory “thank you for the nice food”, he left.

Kyungsoo was still looking at me with stern but hopeful eyes. My insides were going insane, because the strange, hospital odour still lingered in the air.

And because his eyes looked so…

“Hyemi-ah, you and Kyungsoo should head home, it’s getting late,” my mother yawned, settling down on the petite couch on the other side of the room.

“I’m not leaving you here,” I demanded firmly.

As much as I wanted to avoid the doe-eyed boy for the meantime, I sincerely did not wish to leave her to tend to Dad alone.

“Oh, stop,” she waved a hand in the air to silence me, “Kyungsoo will you please take her home, honey?”

“Erm, sur-”

“No, I’m staying here. I don’t want to sleep alone at home.”

“Hyemi, your father and I will be fine. I don’t want you two to catch anything in here, so go.”

“No, I don’t want-”

“Go home,” Umma glared at me.

I could only sigh in defeat. I didn’t dare to challenge that authoritative, persistent tone in her voice unless I was deliberately trying to brew trouble.

“Fine,” I sighed, letting my shoulders sink, “but call me if you need anything.”

She nodded.

“Don’t walk, take the bus. It’s late,” she turned to Kyungsoo, “and tell your mother ‘thank you’”.

Kyungsoo bowed, “I will, Mrs. Park," and polished it with my favourite smile in the world.

I missed that.

My stomach fluttered a little.

“Shall we?” he faced me and reached for the door knob. Kyungsoo was still smiling, but what caught me next was the thick velvet embedded in his voice when he pronounced my name.

“Hyemi?”

I couldn’t explain what I felt.

“Oh, yeah,” I fumbled with my fingers, “goodnight, Umma, Appa.”

With tiny, careful steps, I bravely walked out of the room with him. Onto the hallway we sauntered, the unpleasant aroma of antiseptic and gauze pads torturing my nostrils.

We walked silently side by side in a moderate pace. I couldn’t remember a time when I last felt strangely uncomfortable around him. That simply could not be.

But now it was, and I was starting to get a strong hold of his reasons for not having enough courage to pursue me in the past.

Had he done so, this was what we would end up being eventually once we’d… broken up.

“Because I didn’t want to… lose you.”

And now that he had started, now that he had finally begun to stop kidding himself, I was the one losing him.

Oh, fate.

It was hilarious and shattering at the same time.

--

Upon reaching the nearest lift, I quickly pressed the button pointing downwards. Neither of us had said anything yet; there were no attempts at petty small talk, and it was definitely worse than being in the company of a complete stranger. We weren’t obligated to utter a word, but it was killing me inside.

So I decided in haste that I would put an end to the internal agony.

“Hey, uh, thanks for coming here.”

I bit my lip, not expecting any feasible response.

“I’m sorry for overwhelming you.”

Ding.

The elevator doors opened for us. It was empty; no one came out, and nobody was waiting with us either. I stepped inside and Kyungsoo followed after me, voluntarily pressing one of the operating buttons to shut the doors.

For overwhelming me?

“Hyemi-ah.”

Thick velvet. Knees weakening.

“Y-yeah?”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Do you like Jongin?”

The deep, colossal eyes I fell in love with were intensely boring holes through the innermost part of me.

I still couldn’t explain what I felt.

But I had to be brave and answer the question.

“No,” I smiled, “I like you.”

Because “it takes a brave heart to do brave things”.

Then as I paused to satisfy my longing to hold his hand, the fluorescent lights began flickering simultaneously, and with a startlingly strident clang, the elevator shook and came to a halt.

The lights died. I squeezed Kyungsoo’s hand.

And he held tight.