My suitcase rolled soundlessly behind me as I trailed Dr. Song to Taeyeon's room. "Technically, I'm not supposed to allow this," she said in a hushed voice, "but since you clearly just arrived I believe I can make an exception."

If my mind had been there, I would have remembered to thank her. As it was, I could barely get one foot to move in front of another.

The doctor led me down the hall and to a room on the right, holding the door open for me. I prepared to walk in, but right at the threshold I hesitated. My fingers were clenched so tightly on my bags that I could feel my knuckles popping. I wasn't ready to go in there and see him. I didn't know if I could do it.

"It's alright, Miss Jung," Dr. Song coaxed. I looked at her, the vulnerability and fear standing out starkly in my eyes. "Just go and talk to him."

I stared at her for a minute longer. She urged me to go with a warm smile and a tilt of her head. Knowing that now I had no choice, I steeled my spine and turned back to the door, taking slow steps inside. The door swung close behind me.

I felt rooted to the spot, my back nearly pressed against the wall. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was all that I could hear besides the pounding of my own heart, screaming in my ears. His room was small and quiet. There was a large pair of windows parallel to his bed. The drapes were drawn, but enough moonlight spilled through to illuminate the room. Still, there was a very dim light overhead that was on and I imagined that I could hear the florescence buzzing. Off to the side there was a small door. I figured that it was probably the bathroom. The walls were a warm beige and nondescript paintings were hung up for decoration.

My eyes found him quickly, lying motionless in the bed. Like a magnet, I dragged myself to him until I was finally at his bedside. He looked... unreal. And it scared me so much that I was left gasping for breath. This wasn't the Taeyeon that I knew at all. His eyes were shut, blue veins standing out in the lids. There were several scratches and marks on every inch of exposed skin that I could see. His skin was ashen and his lips had faded from a healthy pink to a pasty, dry white. A length of gauze was wrapped around his head from temple to temple and his hair had been cropped tightly to his head with only a slight curl at the ends. He looked like a shadow of his usual self and the only way I knew for sure that he was alive was because of the heart monitors beeping and the slow rise and fall of his chest.

I stared, unmoving for a long moment. Then, I bit my lip and finally managed to release my death grip on my bags. Instead, I pulled a chair next to the bed and sat, my chest tight with emotions too strong to let out.

I sniffled and forced a smile onto my face. "Hey," the word was barely audible and I blinked as my vision began to blur. I reached out gingerly, covering his hand with mine without touching the IV buried in his skin. His fingers were cold and limp and I held on tighter. "They cut your hair," I continued, my eyes on his new hairstyle. "You're going to be so mad when you wake up and see it."

My gaze drifted back to his face and I pursed my lips. It was so strange to talk to him without hearing his usual, snippy response. And it was even scarier to think about the fact that there was a chance I would never hear it again.

"Your mom is worried sick," I continued. "Can you believe that I'm here right now? She paid for my plane ticket and flew me out here so that I could be with you. Her doctor wouldn't let her, and I know you wouldn't have wanted her getting sick over this." Swallowing hard, my eyes found the bag of antibiotics and focused on the slow drip of it as it went into his body. "That's why I agreed to come. I know that if I hadn't she would have come out here herself and you would never forgive yourself if something happened to her."

At the thought, my lip trembled and I had to stop talking. This didn't even make sense. I had just spoken to him a week ago. How could he go from that laughing, sarcastic guy at a party he didn't like to... this? My eyes fastened to his face and I stared for a long moment, hoping, wishing, praying for even the tiniest indication that he was in there and that he could hear me. He remained smooth and impassive, and his body under the light blue blankets was unmoving.

I inhaled shakily, my thumb moving to his palm, "How could this have happened?" I whispered to him. "How could someone do something like this to you? You didn't deserve this."

I shook my head, once again out of words to say. Instead of speaking at all, I simply sat there, my eyes on his face. This was truly unbelievable. I hadn't known what to expect when I came to see him, but this death-like silence was unnerving. And the doctor said that there was nothing else they could do. I remember reading that brain wounds were difficult to work with because we knew so little about them. It was hard to realize that there would be no magic cure for him and we really would just have to wait and see what was going to happen.

The bottom line was either he was going to wake up sometime soon, or he would be here, in this coma forever. It once again struck me how permanent this could be and my eyes filled with tears. "Come back, Tae," I choked out, "Please. Don't do this to me. Please, come back."

I must have sat there with him for nearly an hour. So lost in my thoughts, I didn't even hear the door open or Dr. Song coming up behind me. When she set a hand on my shoulder, I jumped and turned. She smiled sympathetically when she saw the tears in my eyes.

"Don't lose hope, Miss Jung," she said. "We have people come out of things like this all the time."

I bit my lip and nodded, my eyes returning to his face. The entire time, I hadn't seen a single change. It was heartbreaking.

"I think it's best if you got some rest. You can come back tomorrow."

Part of me knew that she was right. There was no reason for me to sit here night and day. But another part of me was deathly afraid that if I left him now, he wouldn't be here in the morning.

I shoved that part back firmly. I knew better than to think like that. Standing, I cast one last glance at him and took a deep breath, letting the doctor lead me out of his room.

*  *  *
 

I stood outside of the address his mother had given me in shock. This was his apartment? My head fell back as I looked up the length of the skyscraper. This wasn't an apartment. This was more like a penthouse... or maybe another mansion. Maybe his parents had bought him another mansion just for himself.

I heaved a long sigh and punched in the code written on the piece of paper so that I could get in. I was too exhausted to even think about how grandiose the lobby was of the place. It looked more like a hotel to me than anything else. And he was on the thirtieth floor—at least it wasn't the actual penthouse. The elevator played orchestral music, had a plush red carpet, and a chaise lounge against the back wall. Unable to help it, I rolled my eyes. Who the hell needs a couch in an elevator? How long were you planning on staying in the thing?

Though the buttons went all the way to fifty-eight I hit thirty and waited warily to be let out. When it dinged for my floor, I got out and walked a little ways down the hall. I opened the door to Taeyeon's apartment and then just stood there, my mouth gaping open.

It was... huge. And breathtakingly gorgeous. A dark leather couch and loveseat stood a couple of feet from the door, resting on hardwood floors in front of a massive television. A coffee table was on a small rug centered between the two pieces of furniture and against the wall were floor to ceiling windows that offered a completely spectacular view of the city. Paintings and other classy knick knacks rested here and there, giving it a very homey feel. The walls were painted a muted yellow that verged on white once I flipped the four light switches. I walked in hesitantly, convinced that any second a butler would come up to me and ask me what the hell I was doing there.

His kitchen was state of the art. Entirely stainless steel with white cabinets, there was enough