Also known as lenticular clouds. These unique, pancake-shaped clouds typically form around hills and mountains, as a result of the way the air moves there. 

As Jongin gradually regained consciousness, he found himself lying in an unfamiliar bed with thin white railings around it. A monotonous rhythm of beeping sounds came from a collection of machines next to him. Looking down at his clothes, he realized he was wearing a set of thin, disposable pyjamas that he recognized all too well.

As a child, he’d been here many times, tagging along with his parents as they worked themselves to the bone. But this was different. He had now been admitted to the Geongang Hospital himself.

The boy stretched out an aching arm and hit a small, red button. Within minutes, a tall woman with a blonde pixie cut arrived. “Jongin! I’m glad to see you’re awake.” 

“Hello, Doctor Song.”

The woman smiled. “You never forget a face, do you? Gee, it must have been at least five years since I last saw you!”

The shrill sound of her loud, high-pitched voice caused Jongin to flinch. He nodded, the first and only time they met. They'd made small talk years ago, while he was waiting for his father to wrap up a long surgery. Dr. Song was an intern at the time. Apparently, she had made quite a leap in her career since then. Good for her.

“Anyway. Eh… oh, right. What I’m supposed to say is that you shouldn’t panic and …yeah. You’re in the hospital.”

“I can see that, yes.”

Doctor Song brushed her bangs hair out of her face and shyly looked away. “Yes. Ehh… right. So about what happened: your mother found you in your room yesterday night, unconscious. She immediately rushed you in here, but had to get back to work a few hours ago.”

“She found me unconscious?”

“Yes. We believe it’s due to exhaustion, stress and dehydration, hence the drip in your left arm. There’s nothing to worry about though. We’ll be keeping you here for one more night, and you’re free to go on Wednesday.”

“Okay, Doctor Song. Thank you.” Jongin didn’t particularly like or dislike the woman, but he really wanted her to leave him alone.

The woman politely nodded and turned to the door, before changing her mind and spinning back around. “Oh! I almost forgot to ask. How are you feeling now?”

“I-I’m tired. And my muscles ache a bit.” Suddenly, he remembered the events that occurred the previous night. “How is my chest wound doing? Did I get any heart surgery?”

The blonde woman frowned. “Jongin, there’s nothing wrong with your chest. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Jongin’s eyes widened at the woman’s stupidity. “Well… I was badly hurt. My heart still burns a bit, kind of like it’s on fire.”

Doctor Song’s expression relaxed. “Honey,” she chuckled, “that’s what we call love. We won’t be able to help you with that.”

And with those words, the woman made her exit.

Jongin had trouble realizing what was going on. He carefully ed his pyjama shirt, reluctant to see the bloody bandage that would probably be underneath, but... there was no bandage. His tanned chest looked absolutely normal, without a trace of injury.

"No, no, no no no no," he muttered. Jongin's head started throbbing again as he struggled to put two and two together.

Kyungsoo stabbed me last night.

He ing stabbed me, I'm a hundred percent sure. My chest hurts like hell. I'm supposed to have a stab wound.

He was aware that it had happened in his mind, but that didn't mean it wasn't real. It had to be real, the pain was there.

Yet here he was, alive and breathing - at least, that's what the doctor said.

Kyungsoo stabbed me in the ing chest.

Jongin started hyperventilating, tears streaming down his eyes. Everything he had felt yesterday, the cold, the anger, the rejection, the shock, the pain, was washing over him like a violent tsunami. He couldn't breathe anymore.

He was drowning again.

As he screamed for his life, Doctor Song rushed back in, accompanied by several nurses. They gave him a sedating injection and within seconds, the boy fell back into a dreamless sleep.

He woke up to the sight of a woman sitting on the high windowsill of his room. Her black, half long hair had been gelled back and sharply contrasted against her white pantsuit. She was barefaced, apart from thick, hot pink contours that highlighted her dark eyes.

Jongin thought she looked beautiful.

“…Ms. Kang?”

Upon hearing Jongin’s polite way of addressing her, the woman smiled broadly. “Hi Jongin, what’s up?”

The boy placed a hand on his head as he sat upright, his headache still being present. “Do… you have… a cigarette for me?”

Jinsil started laughing. “We’re in a hospital, you know that right?”

“I know,” he murmured.

The teacher reached into her white blazer and tossed her black pack of cigarettes towards the boy. “Make sure your parents don’t find out.”

Jongin chuckled as he gratefully lit up a vanilla cigarette. “Thanks.”

“So,” the woman started as she retrieved the pack and sparked up a smoke for herself. “I heard you got yourself into quite some trouble.”

The boy remained quiet as he slowly exhaled the smoke through his nostrils.

“I just…” She seemed a bit uncomfortable, a side of hers that Jongin had never seen before. “I just feel a bit guilty. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Don’t say that,” Jongin sternly spoke. “It’s my own ing fault. Let’s just say I had a fight with Kyungsoo, and I’m done with him. I’ve learnt from my mistakes.”

Jinsil nodded as she studied the view outside. “You’re very brave, you know that?”

They shared a comfortable moment of silence. Jongin threw his finished cigarette out of the open window before speaking up. “How long have you been here?”

“Mmm, about half an hour or so? I don’t have that much time actually, but I was a bit worried when I heard you were hospitalized.”

“Don’t worry too much. I’ll be perfectly fine in no time. I might even make it to your class on Thursday.”

“Skip it if you have to, Jongin. Focus on getting better and regaining your strength before your other exams next week,” she advised. “To be honest, your mind palace sounds pretty dangerous. It might be better to avoid visiting it for a while.”

The boy frowned and bit his lip as he looked away. “I’m not going back there.”

Jinsil quietly nodded, leaving Jongin to his thoughts for a while.

After a brief pause, she suddenly brightened up. “Hey, you know what would fix you up in no time?”

Jongin withdrew a carton of orange juice and slowly started sipping it. “A balanced diet and enough sleep?”

The woman smirked. “No. A healthy dose of steamy, hot . As dirty as possible.”

He instantly choked on his drink. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said,” Jinsil laughed. “Don’t be shy about it! It works for me every single time.”

“Ms. Kang!” Jongin coughed.

The woman jumped off the high windowsill and slowly started to approach the boy. She seated herself on the edge of his bed, raising an eyebrow and eyeing the boy in a flirty manner. When she witnessed Jongin flushing a bright shade of pink, she started laughing and playfully nudged his leg. “Sorry Jongin, I’m just messing with you.”

“I-I-I…” he stuttered, hiding his face underneath his blue blanket.

“I have a ridiculously hot girlfriend waiting for me at home, she’d kill me if she found out I jumped one of my students,” Jinsil snickered as she stood up again.

“You’re terrible!” Jongin cheekily exclaimed.

“Or so I’ve heard.”

As the two had burst out in roaring laughter, a slender woman stormed into the hospital room.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my son’s room?!”

Jongin pulled the blanket off his aching body and started getting up. “Calm down mom. She’s a friend of mine.”

“What is wrong with you? Stay in bed!”

The boy halted, realizing it would be best to obey his mother.

Jinsil put her most friendly smile on. She humbly bowed to the woman. “Hello Mrs. Kim, my name is Kang Jin-”

“Shut up! Have you been smoking in my son’s room?” the older woman shouted.

“Well, I eh…”

Jongin came between the two. “Please lower your voice mother. It’s okay, I allowed her to.”

Mrs. Kim’s eyes widened. She rushed towards her son and motioned for him to lie back down, carefully tucking him in under the hospital blanket. “You really must be sick Jongin. Are you drinking enough? You need rest. You must get yourself back together as soon as possible.”

“Jongin, you have my number. Call me if anything’s up,” Jinsil offered as she calmly stepped towards the door. “I apologize Mrs. Kim. I didn’t mean to intrude. I will be taking my leave now.”

The boy apologetically waved at her, mouthing a quick ‘sorry’.

Jinsil flashed him a quick smirk. “Oh and Jongin: if, say, five years from now you feel sick again, you know what to do. And who to call.” She winked at him before making her smooth exit.

Flustered, the boy ducked beneath the covers once more.

“What a weird girl,” his mother muttered. “Anyway. How are you feeling?”

Jongin sighed. “I’m fine, mother.”

“You didn’t look fine when I found you yesterday night.”

“I’m just tired.”

The woman brushed a hand over her navy blazer, as if she was trying to get the crinkles out. Too bad the garment had already been perfectly ironed. “Alright. Just make sure you get back to school as soon as possible. I expect good grades from you, being my only son.”

The boy sighed once again. “Yes, mother.”

The woman curtly nodded. Eyeing the medical chart lying on top of one of the machines, she walked around the bed and picked it up. As she flipped through the pages, she gasped, before quickly closing it and putting it back where she had found it. “Okay. Eh… Your father and I have to attend an important seminar in Singapore, our plane leaves in two hours, so… yes. I’d better go.”

“Bye mother.” Jongin apathetically spoke as he stared up at the ceiling. The sooner she’d be gone, the better.

Mrs. Kim placed a bill on the bedside table. “Here’s a hundred-thousand won. Get yourself some spinach and a protein shake in the cafeteria downstairs. The hospital food these days isn’t what it used to be.”

The boy nodded, realizing this was his mother’s clumsy way of showing that she cared about him. “Thank you, mother.”

“Take care.”

After the woman left, Jongin tried to take a nap. He felt exhausted, but couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Whenever he would close his eyes, all he could see was rain, blood and knives. To fall asleep would mean to dream, and to dream would mean to revisit yesterday’s horrific events.

Unable to stand his confinement to the small, white room, Jongin slowly got up out of bed. The longer he sat there by himself, the heavier his emotions weighed him down. He’d probably never understand why Kyungsoo had done what he had done yesterday, and obsessively thinking about it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

His arm was connected to a tall, see-through drip feed. Luckily, it had wheels under, meaning he could take it with him and go for a walk. The boy decided to take his medical chart with him, curious to find out what his mom had been looking at earlier. Tightly gripping the pole of his drip feed, he shuffled out of his room. 

Jongin went down to the cafeteria like his mother had suggested, but instead of buying himself a nutritious meal he settled for a double cheeseburger with bacon and a large soda. He didn’t really feel like eating anything but was aware that it would speed up his recovery. Considering how he still had three very important tests coming up (plus an extra history assignment, whatever that might mean) he couldn’t afford to slack off by staying hospitalized for too long. He could have been off worse; actually, he was very thankful that his body was in good condition. If he rested enough, he’d probably be back to his old self in no time. Yes. That’s what I’m going to do, Jongin nodded to himself.

Though a small part of him didn’t want to return to his old self at all.

After picking up his unhealthy dinner, the boy shuffled through the main entrance and sat down on one of the wooden benches next to the revolving glass door. He carefully placed the drip feed next to him and retrieved the burger out of a paper bag. He slowly started to nibble on the bun, but was disappointed by its bland taste. Then again, it was already a miracle that a hospital served junk food in the first place. Only in Geonggang.

God. Jongin hated the place. He wondered how people with serious illnesses could bear to spend weeks or even months in the distressing building when he couldn’t even stand being there for a day.

He put the burger back into the sack, deciding to leave it for later. While taking a sip of his soda, he grabbed hold of his medical chart and flipped it open. There were several pages in the white folder, most of them listing basic information like his name age, height, weight, etcetera. His eyes quickly skimmed over the basic facts, zealously searching for new information. After turning some pages, he came across some eye-catching words surrounded by confusing medical codes, all printed in black ink.

Exhaustion.  990778

Dehydration. Stress.                       898789                                    Psychological detachment.

887700  Possibility of psychosis.

Symptoms of manic depression;               256677                                          Symptoms of schizophrenia.

-- Monitor closely --

His heart violently started to pound, causing him to close the chart in shock. Everything before him started turning; his vision started to resemble the way his life was currently spinning out of control.

Merely a few days ago, he was having trouble with his academic career and considered the possibility of suffering from concentration problems. And now, he was suspected of being schizophrenic? Did the doctors really think he was that crazy? 

...He wasn't, was he?

I’m not crazy. Don't be stupid Jongin, you know you're not. So just stop thinking about it.

Just don't think - 100029 - about it.

Jongin.

Me... I'm not... crazy. - 199932 - Normal and not crazy. But  - 822291 - stop thinking a&bout -100029 - crazy. Am not crazy. - 299910 - Stop thinking stop it stop stop if you don/.’t want to be) crazy. Crazier X You’ - 922701- re not CRAZY THEY are y*x= all crazy, not -229210-  YOU. /tired, - 201110 - not CRAZY. Not! - 829101 - Cr -291!988 - azy. STO... -299141- P!

All that was before his eyes blurred into a grim image. He couldn’t see anymore, his mind couldn't compute his thoughts. It was like he was suffocating. Something was strangling him. He tried gasping for air, but he couldn't. He was being stabbed in the lungs.

He was drowning again.

Then, a loud scream rang through his ears, causing his heart to stop beating for a second. Everything around him immediately went quiet. His thoughts stopped for a second.

Jongin took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, slowly bringing his tormented soul back to the real world. He noticed that he was drenched in cold sweat - though his sweat smelled unusually sweet. The boy didn’t dare to open his eyes, but conquered his fear after a few seconds and slowly raised his eyelids.

A young man with a worried frown had crouched down before him.

“Excuse me? My sincerest apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m running late so I was racing up the steps but then I fell and instinctively screamed and- …Well you sprayed yourself with the soda you were holding. Once again I’m really sorry for scaring you. Are you okay?”

Feeling dazed, the boy carefully nodded. He wasn’t sure why, but the man in front of him felt familiar, like he had known him in the past but forgotten who he was. Jongin wanted to ask for his name, but the stranger glanced at his watch and hurriedly stood up.

“I’m really, really sorry. I have to rush in now, visiting hours end in twenty minutes. I hope you’re okay.” He made a deep bow and flashed Jongin an apologetic smile. His eyes landed on the drip feed for a moment. “Please recover quickly. I hope I haven’t interfered with your healing process too much.”

“It’s… okay,” Jongin mouthed inaudibly. But the young man hadn’t heard.

In some way, the stranger seemed to have played a part in subsiding his storm of emotions. Jongin frowned. Despite not knowing who the young man was, they must have known each other from somewhere, right? There was something about him, though he couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.

Realizing he hadn’t even properly thanked the man for pulling him out of his emerging anxiety attack, Jongin decided to rush after him. He grabbed his medical chart and rose to his feet. When he took a few steps, he felt a pull on his left arm. He realized he was still connected to the stupid drip. He impatiently pulled the needle in his arm out with two fingers, leaving the see-through fluid sack outside. He would pick it up later. Or not.

Jongin sprinted back into the sober, modernistic Geonggang building, scanning the entire entrance hall for any signs of the young man. Luck seemed to be on his side, as he spotted him at the reception desk. He couldn’t understand the man’s exact words, but the receptionist’s clear voice resonated loudly.

“The usual room. N112.”

The young man bowed and rushed towards one of the large elevators. Jongin wasn’t fast enough to catch up with him, but he knew where he had to be.

Eventually, Jongin reached the N-ward. There was something peculiar about this ward - it was far quieter than the hallway he was staying in. In fact, there was hardly anyone walking through the halls.

As he walked on, he peeped through some of the rectangular windows. Most patients were either asleep or had their backs turned towards him. There were no visitors to be seen, and even the nurses seemed to have cleared the area. There were no voices to be heard, no music, no chewing, no laughing.

Nothing but the sound of hospital equipment rhythmically beeping.

A haunting chill ran over Jongin’s spine. He really didn’t know what kind of people had been admitted to this wing, but the atmosphere of the place felt heavy and dispirited. It felt like the patients here had given up on life - or life had given up on them, he wasn’t sure.

The boy was just about to turn back around and run for his life, when he heard someone speaking from one of the rooms down the hallway. The deep voice most definitely belonged to the young man Jongin had been looking for. The stranger was trying to speak as softly as possible, but the abundance of any other sounds in the hallway made it easy for Jongin to locate his exact whereabouts. Though his head told him to leave the N-wing behind for good, his feet couldn’t but help but tiptoe towards the source of the sound.

The boy halted in front of room N112, the room the receptionist had been talking about. He desperately wanted to speak to the young man, but he was clearly visiting someone. It would be rude to intrude. Jongin bit his lip. What was he to do? Should he wait here for the man to finish? Go back outside and wait on the bench? Go back to his room and let it be?

“I’m sorry for being late. And I’m sorry for not passing by more often. It’s just really difficult for me to see you… like this. .”

Jongin didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the words reached his ears automatically. The polite young man sounded worn out, crippled and broken. The boy felt a lump forming in his chest. Whoever the young man was, he surely didn’t deserve to go through this.

The voice faded out and was replaced by the sound of heavy sobbing. Not being able to control his curiosity, Jongin carefully squatted down and crawled towards the long window. He carefully peered into the room, wondering whom the young man could possibly be talking to.

Time stopped when Jongin realized the man had been talking to proof.

Proof that Jongin was not going crazy after all.

Because he wasn’t... was he? 

- 887700 -

A/N:

Hi everyone! I hope you've all had time to recover from the scare of the last chapter (sorryyyyyyy!!!)

Just to clarify: Jongin survived the stabbing because it didn't actually happen in the 'real' world. He's completely fine... physically.

This chapter might be a bit confusing but yeah, that's the point haha.

Thank you all for your interest! Feel free to leave a comment or message me anytime, I always enjoy interacting with my readers >///< 

♥ pominizz ♥

ps. Next chapter will be uploaded soon~ Think I'm gonna call it Mammatus Clouds - look those up, they're really cool!