Her phone started ringing before Chae Yoon could reply. Wondering if it was from work Namjoo quickly pulled her phone out to see an unfamiliar number on the screen. Slightly turning away from her friend she answered.

“Hello?”

“I’m hungry,” a male voice spoke right away. “Bring me some food.”

Namjoo was left listening to the dead ring tone as he hung up and stared at her phone. The absurdity of the situation was flabbergasting.

“Who was that? Do you have to go in to work?” Chae Yoon asked.

“No, wrong phone number,” Namjoo lied. “So who is this person?”

“He’s my ex,” Chae Yoon poked at the beef she’d set on the grill. “I wasn’t very good to him.”

“What happened?”

Chae Yoon stared at the table for a long time with sad calling eyes, “I broke up with him. I wavered, so I broke up with him, but I realized I still love him very much. He probably hates me now.”

“You wouldn’t know that unless you talk to him,” Namjoo helped. “If he loved you very much, I’m sure he’d listen to you. Why don’t you just call him up?”

“It’s easier said than done,” Chae Yoon sighed. “It’s so hard. I’m so scared he’ll shun me and reject me right away. I know I deserve this.”

Namjoo turned when the restaurant owner placed a bottle of beer onto the table.

“I hate myself too,” Chae Yoon droned on. “I’m such an awful person, but I can’t help but miss him.”

“Sorry,” Namjoo apologized. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“It’s ok,” Chae Yoon smiled. “You’re just lucky. I bet Ki Chan would die to be your first love.”

Namjoo snorted at her suddenly without the energy to tell her to stop with the teasing. When they finally split up after lunch Namjoo was headed toward her car when she remembered the phone call earlier.

Should she or should she not?

If she went she would feel like he was making her a servant even if they barely knew each other. If she didn’t go she would still feel guilty because she’d still be thinking about the call. On the other hand, was he really that helpless?

“He’s still under maintenance, so it’s not good for him to leave just yet. Plus, I don’t think he’s mentally stable.”

“Oh, I also heard that. His neighbors said he was quite depressive.”

Allowing a groan to escape she got into her car and went to the store. Luhan, she recalled, didn’t really have food in his fridge. All she saw were microwavable food and noodles. She was certain if he kept up that diet, he’d die pretty fast.

As a nurse she felt it was only right of her to make sure he was taking care of himself. Since she already stopped by once, she would have to keep up with it until she was certain he in good health again.

That deathly pale color in his face wasn’t a likely color to look at. She’d go and talk to him, see what was wrong, and if she was able to help. If not, she’d talk to Bo Young about any therapy that would be available for people like Luhan.

Before stopping by Luhan’s, Namjoo made sure to stop by her place to grab some of the food Aunt Jin had dropped off. She was certain she wouldn’t be able to finish all that food by herself anyway. Due to her work schedule she ate more outside than she did at home nowadays.

This time Luhan’s door was locked and Namjoo had to knock on it. When the door opened Namjoo found herself staring at a ruffled hair Luhan. It looked like he just woke up.

“Come in,” was all he said and walked away from the door.

“=====”

No, he wasn’t feeling any better than he was two days ago when he woke up in the hospital. He’d slept all day again meaninglessly. It wasn’t like there was anything for him to look forward to. There was nothing to do either and he didn’t want any fresh air. He’d finished the porridge Namjoo had made for him and was suddenly hungry again. The worst thing was that he wasn’t in the mood to eat any of the food he had. The last worst thing was he’d tired of the silence, but he didn’t know who to call.

After dating Chae Yoon he’d disregarded who he’d had as friends. Luhan didn’t know whether it was alright to call them or not or whether their numbers were still the same. Namjoo…was just a last resort.

He could hear her looking at the pot he’d scraped clean and dumped in the sink.

“So you ate it all,” he heard her comment. “I brought some food with me. I’ll put them in your fridge, so whenever you’re hungry you have more of a variety to choose from. You must know how to cook at least something, right?”

As she looked over Luhan refused to turn her way. He continued staring at the wall with a picture of Chae Yoon in his head. Her long pretty hair flowing down her back as she walked back and forth in front of him while talking and asking for suggestions for her new column. Luhan pretended she was in his kitchen preparing a cup of noodle for him, humming one of his favorite songs.

Rejected, Namjoo turned away and began packing his fridge with what she’d brought.

“Did your fever go down?” She asked closing the fridge.

Luhan didn’t reply.

He still wished that it was Chae Yoon in his home.

“I should at least know so that I know what to make for you,” Namjoo said.

He heard her mumbling something about a thermometer as she walked over.

“I’m just going to feel your forehead for a moment,” she spoke and hesitantly raised her hand up.

The short dream of Chae Yoon slowly dispersed and his sight cleared when he felt her warm hand against his forehead. Namjoo withdrew it a moment later and pressed her lips together for a short firm smile.

“You’re still heating up,” Namjoo commented. “You should be in bed.”  

She seemed to wait patiently for him to say something and didn’t move from where she was.

Luhan could still feel it; desperation, despair, gloom, desolation, and anguish all crushing him. The moment he opened his eyes he would start feeling. All emotions would rush at him all at once and thorns would burst through his skin. His body would throb all over as if there were some kind of tornado warping through him. And he couldn’t even scream. He would still wake up in quicksand only to be in just as quick. And he would drown again and again and the desperation, the despair, the gloom, the desolation, and the anguish would crush him all over.

The weakness overflowing through him had made him grab his phone.  

When she turned to walk away Luhan said, “I keep thinking of ways to die. On my way to sleep, I keep thinking, so I don’t want to sleep.”

Namjoo twisted toward him, “I think…”

“I just want…someone to be around,” Luhan told. “If you can’t do a little thing as be a friend, just go.”

The nurse turned away from him. He couldn’t tell what it was she was thinking about. Luhan believed that she would snitch on him and bring in a counsellor with her the next time she came. She was really just a last resort for tonight.

“Then should I just make some more porridge for you?” Namjoo asked.

Even with no answer Namjoo headed toward the kitchen to turn the stove on. He listened to her move around and heard her walk over again. A folded white towel appeared in front of him.

“You’re sweating,” she said.

He hastily grabbed it from her and rubbed it over his face and neck.

“You should take better care of yourself at least,” she went on.

Turning her attention toward his washer she asked, “Did you take your clothes out?”

Luhan listened to her move again and wondered why she couldn’t keep still. She was almost like his mother, but memories of his mother weren’t so pleasant either.

“My shift doesn’t start late until tomorrow afternoon. Do you want to come out with me? But I’m not sure you’ll like my hiding place,” she went on.

As she pulled the washer open he stood and headed toward the kitchen. Pulling his fridge open he pulled out some beer and walked toward her. Namjoo was in the middle of pulling his clothes out when he held a can out to her. She abruptly paused and looked at the can as if it was something foreign before looking up at him.

“Have it.”

Namjoo quietly took the can and he turned to lean against the door leading to the veranda. Sliding down to sit he stared at the emptiness ahead. Namjoo had stopped moving his clothes around by now.

“I don’t drink much,” Namjoo told leaning against the machine.

“My girlfriend…liked drinking,” he spoke in a depressed manner.

She turned to look down at him and he felt a silly smile climb onto his face as he reminisced those times. Popping his can open he took a sip before holding it between his hands. It felt like ice, something fragile yet dangerous enough to freeze the heart out. It was such a lightweight compared to his heart.  

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“I didn’t say that,” Namjoo said.

“Whenever I see beer, I think of her,” Luhan droned on. “She loves beer.”

“Reminds me of someone I know,” Namjoo commented.

Luhan pressed his lips together and stared at the floor.

“Where is she?” Namjoo asked. “Your girlfriend.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

A silence droned in as if Namjoo suddenly realized why he was the way he was.

“You said you hate the hospital,” Namjoo switched the topic as if to be considerate of him, “why?”

Luhan hated the memories. That eerie night filled with police sirens was still so vivid inside his head. He really wanted to dig into his own head and throw that chunk of memory away, if that was possible at all.

He was twenty when he returned home that night. He still lived with his parents then, but since that incident he always feared going back home. He always feared his family.

Luhan remembered heading home that night full of expectation for nice leftovers to eat as dinner. His mom would heat up the food for him while he showered; he had thought it’d be like that. It should have been like that, but it wasn’t.

He’d gone into the house calling out for his mother, but there was no soul present anywhere. She wasn’t in the kitchen like she always was. The dishes hadn’t been washed and remained stacked inside the sink. His father wasn’t supposed to be home that night. He had a late night meeting at the company, so it was just supposed to be him and his mother…but his father should have been there that night instead of with some other woman.

Innocent from that knowledge he walked into his parents’ bedroom where the door to the closet had been left open. The first part of him died that night when he saw her legs dangling off the ground and that noose around her neck. He died that night when his eyes landed upon her very pale face and those lips without color. Luhan lost part of him that night. At the emergency room he remembered losing the strength in his legs, falling to his knees and crying away like some fool. And in his hand was a letter and picture of his father with some other woman.

Even now, Luhan wasn’t sure whether it was the disappointment, the trust and the faith he’d lost in his parents or because he was scared that he couldn’t go back home. He would admit that his father was putting effort into repairing the relationship with his mother, who’d been saved that night, but Luhan just couldn’t bring himself to look at them. The memories of those legs dangling in midair would haunt him forever. When he looked at them he would always see it and he just couldn’t deal with it.

“Mom,” Luhan felt his eyes go gray, “was kept in the hospital for a week.”

Namjoo waited in silence for him to go on.

“She tried killing herself,” his voice became very quiet as those legs dangling in midair became more vivid in his head. “I hate the hospital. It shouldn’t have brought her back…and it should have…”

Namjoo’s eyes dangled over him at a sudden loss of what words to comfort him with. Another long period of silence sunk in over them like a cold blanket over two warm birds. And finally Namjoo finally walked away to check on the water that had started boiling, leaving him to sit there as alone as he’d always been.

“=====”

Namjoo wasn’t sure what to take of Luhan’s little story. She wasn’t sure why he’d talked at all.

On her drive back home as she thought back to his quiet voice and those awful words she could only try to imagine how hard it was for him. What kind of girlfriend had left him like that? Where was everyone else in his life? Where were his friends?

Luhan was probably a very lonely man, Namjoo thought.

When Namjoo finally hopped into bed that night she wondered why Luhan had opened up to her on such short notice. They were barely friends. How would he know if he could trust her or not?

She woke up early the next morning even before her alarm went off. As she pulled her hair back that morning she stared at herself in the mirror. Namjoo was suddenly wondering if she looked strange and if that was why Luhan was talking to her. She didn’t think she was very approachable, so why had he started talking to her?

After grabbing a bite to eat she drove out to the park and waited half an hour to see if Luhan might show up. Finally after a forty minute wait she decided to head to his place. She would be shameless about it, she decided, since he already said they were friends. It didn’t matter if he meant it or not, just as long as he’d said it she would have a reason to pull him out.

After two knocks the door opened. There was finally much more color in Luhan’s face and she thought he finally looked pretty human this time around.

Namjoo twisted her hand to look at her watch, “You didn’t come out.”

He shot her a blank stare as if he didn’t know what was going on.

“I said I was taking you out,” Namjoo reminded.

“Look…” he began, but she cut him off.

“Come on,” Namjoo pushed the door open to see that he was still in pajamas. “Well…I guess you can come out like that too.”

“W…wait…”

“Come on,” Namjoo urged again and turned for him to follow.

On the drive back to the park Namjoo turned to look at him.

“Luhan, right?” She asked.

“Where are we going?”

“I told you yesterday,” Namjoo told. “My hiding place.”

He slightly frowned at her.

“Looks like your fever’s gone down.”

She listened to him sigh before he said, “Why should I bother to go with you? I’m really not in the mood, turn the car around.”

“Friend, you said I should be a friend to you,” Namjoo said. “I usually don’t go all-out with strangers, but you feel like a homey person. I guess that makes you my friend too.”