Park Hee Ra felt warm. She felt the luxurious mattress beneath her body and sunlight coming into the room. She assumed she was in a hospital, but there was no gross hospital soap smell. She hated the stuff; its scent would stay with her for a good three days at least, and there was nothing she could do to get it off her hands. Ick.

 

        Someone was her hand and speaking softly. It was a lovely voice, kind of low and smooth much like the coat of her friend's Corgi. The voice belonged to a woman, she decided, a mother, someone else's mother. Her mother didn't keep her nails very long, and her hands were small, like Hee Ra's own.

 

        There was a second voice. This one was low and smooth like the woman's, but much deeper. Her husband, maybe? No. She called him son. 

 

        His voice was like audible silk. No, richer than that! It was a deep rumble, rising out of his chest and into the air. It wasn't raspy or raw, but flowing and elegant. It was handsome, beautiful even.

 

        Hee Ra tried to open her eyes, and eventually they complied with her request. She was in a white room with yellow and blue accents. She felt happy and calm at the same time. It was something about the colors. Her art teacher had explained color therapy some years ago, but she had long since forgotten.

 

        The room became blurred around a single figure. He was wearing a well-tapered white suit. His hair was obscured beneath a black fedora with a pink silk band round it. He was studying the blue swirls on the wall, right hand in his pocket, left by his side, feet shoulder-width apart. Or at least pretending to study the wall.

 

        The room came back into focus after a few moments. Hee Ra realized that her heart

was fluttering quickly in her chest. What was wrong with her?

 

        "Excuse me," she said to the woman holding her hand. "Who is that?" She couldn't tear her eyes from the man in white.

 

        The woman didn't answer. Instead, she lightly kissed Hee Ra's cheek and smoothed down the girl's ruffled brown hair. This was her chance to look at the woman. Her long black hair flowed over and behind her shoulders loosely. There were a few, very thin locks of pepper gray in her mane, and they looked as if they were placed there purposefully. She had faint parentheses and laugh lines in her even, tanned skin tone. Her big eyes were smiling warmly. Her lips were set in a small grin, nothing very obvious, but not grim either. She patted Hee Ra's hand and stood up.

 

        The woman's long green dress rusted as she stood up walked to the man. She placed her hand lightly on his right arm. He turned and lifted his lips in a smile at the woman, his mother. He lovingly kissed her forehead and she his cheek. Hee Ra's artist eye traced his very fine profile. It was an unconscious habit, and she decided that this was perfect to draw if she could remember. Sharp jawline, prominent and well-defined philtrum, deep Cupid's bow. Full, round lips, straight nose, big eyes with double eyelids, strong dark brow with thick, yet well-kept eyebrows. Slightly pointed ears, broad chest, wide shoulders, long, straight legs with solid muscles. What was he? He looked like a man's man, not unaccustomed to hard work and strenuous activity, but his handsome profile suggested someone noted for their appearance. She decided that he was someone important.

 

        The woman left with a parting kiss on his cheek. She shut the door after her and the man turned back to the wall. Had he seen Hee Ra lying there? Probably. Did she look miserable? Was there something on her face? Was her lip really chapped? Could he tell she was staring at him?

 

        She shook her head quickly, as if the incessant questions were water in her hair.

 

        "How are you feeling?" he asked, trying to sound cold, distant, and uninterested.

 

        "Fine," Hee Ra replied. "Was that your mother?" He nodded slowly. "She's very fond of you." Ack. Small talk. She hated it, but she felt the need to at least say something.

 

        "Yes," he said quickly. 

 

        "Can I see your face?" asked Hee Ra. She mentally kicked herself. Why would she say something like that?

 

        He turned to face her, a slight, somewhat mischievous smile playing at his lips. His deep voice didn't fit his young features at all, Hee Ra thought. He took a few steps toward the bed, hands clasped in front of him.

 

        He was trying to get close to her, but not too close to the stranger. Guest. Yes; the guest. She wouldn't be a stranger for very long. He would make sure of it. 

 

        "You look pale," he commented sadly. He wanted to no longer seem so cold, but the girl was obviously still leery of him.

 

        "I'm always pale," she chuckled. She sounded a bit weak, quite tired, but needing to move around, run some fresh air through her lungs.

 

        "Do you need anything, miss?" he asked, eyes to the floor. A small blush crept into his cheeks. What was this? Aigoo, you must never put your feelings ahead of yourself; you know this. His conscience always sounded much like his mother, he realized. Its voice even sounded like hers.

 

        "I think I'm all right." The girl paused before starting another sentence. "Well, now that you've said something, I think I need to get up from this bed."

 

        The young man laughed. "Please do take care while getting up! You mustn't fall. I'm sure you've suffered an excellent head injury."

 

       Hee Ra pulled back the soft blue and yellow covers. Her shorts and jacket and striped shirt had been replaced by a soft pink dress with school jumper-like sleeves. The young man offered his hand to help her up. She took it warily, but she relaxed. His eyes felt kind on her; she didn't feel as nervous as she had earlier. His large hand was warm and soft, but there were small callouses on his palm below his fingers and one on his right ring finger. She wasn't certain about the ones on his palm, but the tough skin on his finger was the mark of a writer, she was sure.

 

        She swung her legs over the side of the bed and placed her feet on the pink tile floor. She stood slowly with the feeling of his other hand on her elbow should she suddenly fall. She took the chance to admire her borrowed dress. It had pretty little peplum around the natural waist. The color reminded her of pink buttercream frosting or strawberry ice cream mixed with vanilla. She still had on her loud black and white socks, and they managed to complement the dress nicely. She giggled lightly.

 

        "My socks," she said quietly, wiggling her toes. A lock of her hair fell into her face and she tucked it neatly behind her ear.

 

        "Look," the young man said. She followed his gaze down to his piano socks. She laughed. 

 

        "Those are cool!" she said, blue eyes glowing like two little decorative lights.

 

        The young man smiled. "Would you like me to show you around?" he asked. "Are you still needing to walk around for a little while after lying down for so long?"

 

        The girl nodded quickly and happily like a child. "All right, then," the man said. Was he doing an eyesmile again? Aigoo; it looked ridiculous on him, he knew.

 

        He had a perfect eyesmile.