Beep… Beep… Beep

The small monotonous sound faded into your ears. You listened, for how long you couldn’t be sure. The faint smell of disinfectant found it’s way to your nostrils. Your throat felt dry. You tried to move. A heavy weight held down your legs. What was it? You attempted to open your eyes, yet they remained unmoving, as if glued shut. A small panic arose within your chest. The beeping quickened.

Beep Beep Beep Beep

Suddenly the weight shifted off your legs. You felt something on your arm. It was gentle, yet chilled. The long curve of the being wrapped around your skin. Fingers. They caressed your forearm softly, as if to soothe you. Steadily, you felt calmness overcome you. The beeping returned to normal.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

The sound of a sigh reached your ears. Where had it come from? You hadn’t felt your own lips move.  The weight returned to your leg. As you listened for the noise again, a new sound reached your ears. Humming, deep, yet soothing, filled the empty air. You listened intently. The melody was delicate and sorrowful. As you listened, it grew more familiar. You knew this song. You recalled the way you’d felt, the last time you had heard it. The way your feet had seemed to move as lightly as a ripple upon a lake. The feeling of complete detachment you’d experienced. The feeling of complete freedom.

A small mouse of a sound escaped your lips as your eyes creaked open. The bright white of the fluorescents blinded you for  a moment. The humming stopped. The weight shifted off your legs as the hand returned to your arm. After a moment of silence, another sound arose; a voice. You knew this voice well. It was rich, and harmonious, yet now dripped with trepidation.

”_______-ah?”

Your vision slowly came into focus. Two large chocolate eyes stared down at you. You opened your mouth, the gears of your jaw unused to the act.

"Yixing?"

His brow furrowed in concern, yet a wide grin broke across his features, his eyes glistening. His hand, the hand you’d felt on your arm, found it’s way to your palm, interlacing his fingers with your own. You felt the soft silk like texture of his skin pressing earnestly against yours.

"She’s woken up!" you heard a voice call. Yixing’s head shot up, facing the door. The smile dropped from his features, a look of anxiety replacing it.

A clutter of footsteps approached you. Three unfamiliar faces poked in, pressing their fingers against your wrist, shining a bright light into your eyes, instructing you to open your mouth wide. Yixing pulled away, lost behind the crowd of nurses. You called out his name.

"Her vitals are fine." one voice said.

Yixing interrupted, “Is she okay? Can I talk to her?”

Another voice spoke, “Her heartbeat is normal. Blood pressure is normal too.”

Yet another voice replied, “Seongsaenim, is she stable?”

Everyone turned their heads towards the door. A tall man stood, jotting notes onto a clipboard. He glanced up, meeting your eye for an instant before returning to his paperwork. He gave a small nod. Yixing pushed forward again, grabbing the sleeve of one of the nurses.

"Can I stay with her?" he asked, his voice filled with anxiety.

The nurse nodded briefly. “For now. We’ll have to run some tests later.”

He let go of her sleeve. The nurse exited the room with the others. Once you were alone, Yixing turned his attention back towards the bed, seating himself on the chair he’d occupied earlier. His long fingers once again found their way to your arm, massaging it absentmindedly as he spoke, “Are you ok?”

Your chest tightened at the tired sound of his voice. You felt a tinge of guilt, knowing you were the cause of the exhaustion in his tone. What could you do to make him feel better? What could you do to appease his worry? With all the energy you could muster, you smiled. Despite the sickly sound of your own voice, you spoke with as much lightheartedness as possible. “I’m fine. Are you okay? You look like you haven’t slept in days. A bird could make his nest on those bags.”

You poked him playfully. A ghost of a smile faded across his features before vanishing once again. “I haven’t.”

 You bit your lip seeing the burdened look in his eye. In barely more than a whisper, you inquired, “How long was I here?”

His head seemed to fall against his chest as he stared down at your arm, still tracing his cold fingertips across the skin. “Four days… just about.”

You swallowed. “How long have you been here?”

His gaze met yours for a moment before he turned away again, looking out the window. “Four days. Just about.”

You felt your heart tremble. You bit your lip. How? How, amidst all this exhaustion, all this pain and worry, could you still find so much happiness in such few words? Yixing had stayed here, with you, all this time. You wanted to smile, to be grateful for his company, yet an overwhelming guilt pressed down against your chest, destroying the wings that had only a few moments ago caused your heart to flutter. You looked down, focusing on the rough fabrics of the blanket, as if, perhaps, they might offer some sort of answer.

"You didn’t have to stay that long." you mumbled.

Yixing scoffed sarcastically. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? If you were in his place, would you not have done the same? But it was different for him. He had other priorities. Other things to worry about, things which might never cross his path again; Things much more important than worrying over you.

"What about your training?"

His brow drew together in frustration as he earnestly searched for your gaze. The fingers grazing your arm trailed down towards your palm, lacing themselves in between your own.

"I don’t think it matters if I miss training for a little while."

He looked down at your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against your skin. “You could’ve died.”

You followed his eyes, watching as he gently pressed his thumb against the soft surface of your hand, running it over your knuckles, massaging it in small circular motions. His lips drew apart as a whispered just barely loud enough for you to hear.

"I’m sorry."

You pressed your hand tightly around his. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything.”

He lifted his head, his eyes falling on yours. You nearly flinched upon seeing the unfamiliar tired look of his eyes. His complexion was sallowed, his lips drained of color. Yet what struck you most was the look in his eye. His eyes, those deep amber discs, were filled with an unnameable guilt, a heart clenching pain, much like your own. For a moment, it was almost as felt as if you’d been staring into a mirror.

Before either of you could speak, the loud creak of the door sounded throughout the room. You turned to find the same tall doctor from earlier striding in your direction. He turned towards Yixing, nodding his head, as if to signal him.

"Would you mind waiting outside for a moment?" the doctor asked.

 Yixing’s fingers fell through the gaps of your own as he stood up. You felt your stomach drop. Why was he leaving? You wanted to hold him back, yet before you could reach for his hand, he was no longer by your side. With one last glance in your direction, Yixing left, shutting the door behind him. You followed his image through the display glass until he was out of sight. Your stomach began to writhe.

”_______-ah? Correct?”

You turned towards the doctor, nodding slowly. He glanced over your expression before returning his attention towards the clipboard in his hand. With a small silver pen, he began to scribble against the paper. As he wrote, you observed him, searching his features for any hint of intentions for visiting. The doctor was well aged, nearly 40. His skin was tanned and taut, giving it the appearance of leather. Deep creases ran along the corner of his eyes and mouth, his laugh lines being of particular impression. As he glanced between your confused visage and the paperwork in his hand, you caught sight of his eyes, dark, beady and calculating. You didn’t like this man. There was a coldness, an indifference in his facade, which chilled your bones. You swallowed nervously.

"You’re a dancer?" His tone was that of a question yet the look on his face showed he was well aware of this fact already. Regardless, you nodded.

He wrote a few words before standing erect once more. His black eyes met yours, causing you to squirm in your bed. “Well, _____-ah. What do you remember?”

You gave him a look of confusion. What do you remember? What sort of question was that? How would you know if you’d forgotten something? You thought back, recollecting what memories you could before you’d woken up. You remembered the empty studio. You remembered hearing the sound of screams, seeing Yixing amidst the mob of fans. You remembered the bony grip of Eunhee pulling you back, the sound of your body hitting the cement, the bright glaring headlights. You felt your skin grow cold.

"Everything." you mumbled.

"Everything?" he asked, his pen in hand. You nodded numbly. The small  tap of the ballpoint hitting the clipboard rang throughout the room. You stared down at your hands, lying limp upon the fleece blanket. As he wrote, a familiar feeling began to uncoil within the pit of your stomach. When had you felt this before? Your mind wandered to those days, those moments, where you stood before the studio, afraid to open the door for fear of facing the stifling emptiness on the other side. Your palms grew cold and clammy as you clutched the rough fleece of the blanket.

"Seongsanim." Your voice trembled.

Those small beads of his met your eyes as you asked, “Is there something wrong with me? “

The doctor sighed, placing his pen down, yet keeping the clipboard ever ready in his grip.

"I’m sorry to say this," he began, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone. Your hand began to shake as the sickly feeling in your gut spread through your body like a parasite. You felt your skin growing icy cold. The sudden urge to run overcame your limbs. You didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. You didn’t want to know what was wrong. You wanted to leave, to avoid his calculating gaze. Yet your arms remained fastened at your sides. Your legs remained  stretched lifelessly before you. Your body, like stone, remained still. The sound of the monitor returned to your ears.

Beep, beep, beep.
Beep, beep, beep.

"Your accident caused quite a bit of damage. You had some broken bones, a concussion, and until just now, the potential for  severe memory loss."

You nodded your head mechanically, the burning in your stomach intensifying as he spoke. The doctor drew the clipboard near his face as he flipped through the numerous pages. A distant buzzing faded into your perception. What was it? You looked up to the fluorescents. The sound steadily grew louder. You recalled the silent lights of the 24th floor. These lights were the same, in shape and color, yet they rang loud and clear, demanding attention. The sound unnerved you.

"Most of your bones will heal in time. We will put you through extensive physical therapy, and, perhaps, in a month or so, you will be able to get along without crutches. However,"

He paused. You looked up, your eyes wide with dreaded anticipation.

The doctor turned over a page, taking out a glossy black sheet. The skeletal image of a discombobulated bone glowed in neon blue upon the surface of the paper. You took the sheet with shaking fingers. The buzzing grew louder.

"It’s your leg." he explained as he looked down on you through uninterested eyes. " Shards of bone had broken apart upon your collision, along with the white area on the left."

You turned your attention to the shining white material within what you accepted as the bone of your leg. The doctor continued monotonously. “What you see there is metal. It was a necessary replacement for the lost marrow, along with the steel supports around the bone. You said you’re a dancer?”

You felt your throat grow tight. You nodded, unable to take your eyes off the deformed shape in the photo. The buzzing grew ever louder, now invading your ears. The beeping of the monitor increased rapidly.

Beep Beep Beep Beep

 ”I’m sorry to say this,” he began.

You felt your eye twinge. His voice sounded of cruelty and uncaring. “But you won’t be able to dance on that leg anymore, Miss ______.”

You won’t be able to dance anymore.

You won’t be able to dance anymore.

You attempted to process the concept.

 All those years of practice. All those nights of staying up. All those moments of hoping now fell with your heart, shattering like frail glass. You won’t be able to dance anymore. The phrase repeated in your mind ceaselessly. Not anymore.  Not anymore. Not anymore.

A lump choked your throat. Your lips trembled as a thick film of tears blurred your vision. Your breathing came in short, panicked spasms. Everything grew muffled. The doctor spoke again, yet you couldn’t comprehend his words. The monitor continued to pulse irregularly, yet the beeping would not reach your ears. The buzzing, that incessant cacophonous buzzing rang louder and louder, occupying your entire conscious. Why could you only hear that damn buzzing?! You pressed your shaking palms to your ears attempting to block out the noise to no avail. Your lungs constricted as you gasped for breath. Salty tears streamed down your cheek in cascades, your eyes burning with the pressure. A shattering sob escaped your lips.

”______-ah!” the distant sound of a familiar voice struggled through the piercing noise of the buzzing. You jolted in the direction of the sound. Two warm, dewy amber eyes searched for yours. Yixing. You felt the cool touch of his hand on your cheek. Your fingers instinctively found their way to his. He called your name again. You tried to speak, yet, like and infant, all that escaped your lips was another burdened sob. Yixing took you in his arms, his hand moving to rest upon your head. You buried your face in his chest as another sob forced its way from your throat. You clung to his shirt, attempting to compose your breathing. You bit back your sobs, yet your body continued to shudder with each stifled cry. The buzzing reached a higher octave, evolving into a shrieking ring. Suddenly, the sounds surrounding you grew clear. The buzzing faded, as if it had never been present to begin with. The monitor beeped erratically, mirroring the intake of  your breaths between sobs. 

Beep… Beep, Beep… Beep…

With each ring, Yixings palm rested on your hair, patting it softly. You breathed in shakily, composing yourself. Tears continued to stream down the canvas of your cheeks. Your sobs reduced to rough sniffles.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

Yixing breathed a heavy sigh. He let his hand fall, resting it around your waist.

Beep….. Beep….. Beep…..

”______-ah” he called you quietly. His words silently flew away with the wind. You didn’t answer.

Beep…….Beep……..Beep……..

He spoke again, his voice weighted with guilt, wearied with sleeplessness, worn with pain. You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion resting heavily upon your lids.

Beep………..Beep…………Beep……….

"I’m sorry."