Myungsoo had his feet sprawled out on the library floor, his head on my lap. A sheet of paper covered his face, under it he mumbled to me, “What kind of future do you want?”

            I knew what he was asking had to do with the paper. It was his university choice paper. He had one month to submit it; I still had a full year left. I lift the paper from his face, I could see his handwriting on the name box section while the rest of other boxes were still empty. “It’s your future. I have nothing to do with deciding your choice.”

            Myungsoo had his eyes open and looked at mine. “What kind of life do you want? A luxurious or romantic one? Do you want me to buy you a kingdom or make you one? Do you want me to book you tickets or drive the plane for your all around the world trip? Of course, this has something to do with you. This is something that has to do with you.”

            Ignoring his arrogance, I understood that he could write anything in those boxes. He was after all Kim Myungsoo; my childhood-friend senior who had A for every subject and that included sport, the thing he said he could do the least.

            I looked back at him, on his ignorant eyes until those sleepy-child look like eyes suddenly turned wider and the light in it stirred. He rose up, almost as if he was jumping, and grabbed my face. His thumb trailed the skin under my nostril; nosebleed. As far as I remembered, this was the third for this week.

…

            At by the end of the next week, I got another three and that was it for my mother. She had a doctor arranged for me on the evening. Myungsoo was still on his way back from Busan and had told me that he wouldn’t arrive until two hours later. Inwardly, I felt somehow relieved; I knew Myungsoo hated hospital. Hospital reminded him of death; his parents’ bloody death and how he spent his day curled up on the corner of hospital room with every complication he kept getting from day to day as the result of their accident.

            I remembered he got the stitch on his head reopened on our first day of meeting; twelve years old Myungsoo showed more emotion than he did for the last six years. Myungsoo went out after a month and never entered any hospital ever since. Even if he could be the best doctor in nation, I knew medical school could never be written in the box of his university choice paper.

            I was on the bus when another nosebleed came to visit. This time it didn’t stop after three of four drips and this time it took over my sight. The bust hadn’t move but I could see everything in flashes as if I was looking a fast forward movie. Suddenly, I felt an earthquake inside motionless bus and lost the ground to stand on. I missed the evening and skipped it to the night.

            The next thing I knew, Myungsoo had sit beside me, and that felt like the best thing that could happen to me. His hand was holding mine and they felt cold. I soon realized the cold hand wasn’t mine; it was his. Desperately, Myungsoo blew a warm breath to our entwined hands, but even his breath was cold.

            The world stopped spinning after a few minutes but I could still see the shaking line of Myungsoo’s body. Slowly, my ability to feel came back and I could smell the strong odor of antiseptic and alcohol. We were in hospital room.

            I buried my free hand in Myungsoo’s hair and ruffled it while saying my apologize in vain voice. Something from his silence told me this wouldn’t be our last time going to the hospital, and it was something that Myungsoo could choose, but not me. And so I kept saying that I was sorry.

            I averted my eyes to the table beside my bed and saw the university choice paper on it, badly crimple. It took minutes for Myungsoo to finally voiced in tears,

            “Suzy, please, don’t make me a doctor.”

I’m planning to put an end of this in near future. So for those, who somehow is reading to these,

can you tell me which one feel like your favorite piece? thank you for reading.