The halls of Brooklyn Hospital flowed in endlessly confusing corridors, the twists and turns causing patients and visitors alike to stop me in the hallways, asking for directions to bathrooms, or to the private rooms of family members. I pressed my hands against a sanitizing unit that was attached to the wall, rubbing the stringent disinfectant into my palms. The sharp smell of it covered what I’d dubbed the “hospital smell” that currently filled the air. I was firm in my belief that that particular odor was sickness; it had a smell, no matter what my fellow nurses thought. I had always known when someone was passing; there was a distinct redolence in the air when people were on the verge of dying. When the smell increased in its intensity as I wheeled my med cart into the next room on my chart, I felt my heart sink a little inside my chest.

“Hey, Mr. Casey. How are you today?” I asked the elderly man currently residing in room 206, my voice pitched louder than normal since he was hard of hearing. The monitor next to his bed beeps in a steady rhythm, the TV-like machine showing me his vitals. When I had first begun nursing, the constant bleeps had driven me crazy; now it was a sound that I associated with life. As long as it continued, my patients were alive. It was more than what I’d come to expect each day I came in to work.

“I'm alright today dear, thank you for asking. Could you maybe get me some water?” Mr. Casey’s voice is pitched low and breaks in the middle of his words, but he smiles at me even while his hand tiredly raises to point to the water jug on his nightstand. Shaken by his weakness, I feel almost ashamed when I grab the water jug with an ease that comes from being young and healthy. I pour him a glass of the cool liquid and sticking a straw in the cup, I bring the plastic to his lips, letting him drink his fill.

“Has your son been by to see you lately?” I query casually, not wanting to upset the old man. I bustle around his room as I wait for his answer, replacing his saline bag and checking the implant in his side. I rub the area with alcohol to stave off infection, taking care with the plastic tubing used for the centralized cancer treatment that goes directly into his affected lungs.

“You know young people; they get so busy. But it's alright, I don't like him seeing me like this anyway,” he wheezes on a laugh.   

His smile is brittle but wide, his eyes are bright and shining, but I know his words are lies. But many people lie to themselves in oncology; it isn't my place to call them on it. Still, I have to bite my lips to keep from speaking out what I really want to say, anger quickly trying to take control. I smile knowingly at Mr. Casey, taking his lie at face value just like he wants me to.

I change the catheter bag attached to the end of the old man's bed, pouring some of the waste into a separate container for analysis. Later, as I’m drawing blood from the thin arm of the old man, a building emotion strikes my chest so hard that it makes it difficult to breathe. I finish my final tasks and leave the room quickly just as a tear slips down my cheek.

I manage to make it to the nurses’ break room and thump my head against one of the tables inside. If I was the child of Mr. Casey, there’d be no way would I let my father battle his cancer alone. If I’d still had my parents at all, I would make sure to never let them go for weeks without seeing me like they used to. The fact that my hindsight was twenty-twenty, that I now knew to treasure what I had, wouldn’t help the aching I felt now though. I lay there for long minutes and willed the tears and pain back inside. I took out my phone from the pants pocket of my scrubs, and stuffed my headphones into my ears with shaking fingers.

I scrolled through my playlist, looking for the perfect track for my mood until a song by Mandarin pop artist Bii makes me stop. Back in Time begins to play and I fall softly into the heartbreaking melody, his voice saying everything that I can't bear to let out. When the song ends, I can breathe again and I pick myself up from the table, determination to finish my shift filling me up and allowing me to leave the breakroom.

I ended my workday with more relief than usual, the walls of the hospital seeming to close in on me the longer I stay in oncology. I made my decision after I left the breakroom; on my next shift, I would talk to my supervisor. Hopefully I could find another position in our large hospital, one that was less traumatic and damaging to my psyche. I was disappointed in myself, but I didn’t know what else to do; I just wasn’t cut out for treating cancer patients.

Leaving for the night, I waved to the receptionist who oversaw the walk-ins coming into the emergency room and made my escape out the front doors. The cold air assaulted me as the electric doors slid to a close, the extra gust of wind making a shiver run through me. I took a seat on one of the benches that were scattered around the building, putting me in direct line of sight to those that walked in and out of the front doors. This way I could be easily spotted, and I could see anyone making their way into the hospital.

It was still a little early when I checked the clock on my phone’s screen, just five after ten, plenty of time for me to compose myself for my walk home. My impending meeting with Jonghyun had stayed in the back of my mind all day, and I had tried to convince myself that I wasn't as excited as I really felt. His proposal to walk me home had not only surprised me, but given him bonus points in my book. It was sort of classic, being walked home; almost like we were in one of those black and white movies in which men were still gentlemen and ladies were respected.

I had worn one of my newer coats today, a structured affair that I’d found for a steal in H&M, the light pink color of it making me stand out nicely in the streetlamp lit entry to the hospital. Underneath I sported a white, flowy long-sleeved blouse, on the bottom black leather pants that hugged my every curve. On my feet were black low-heeled boots; not my usual style but wearing my regular ones would put myself and Jonghyun at almost the same height. Maybe it was ridiculous of me, but I sort of liked the fact that I could look up at him, even if it was only a few inches.

I could just imagine what we would talk about as he walked me home, visions of fun and casual conversation made me eager to see him, excitement coursing through me as I waited. But the longer I waited, the more my excitement dampened until I was feeling downright salty. It had been almost twenty minutes and still Jonghyun hadn't shown up. Was he just late, or had he gotten lost? My heart stuttered at the thought that maybe he'd gotten mugged again.

Anxiety wafted through me slowly as I immediately began thinking of all the bad things that could happen to him on the way to the hospital, things like getting lost along the way here to him needing the hospital at the end of his trek. Unable to sit any longer, I stood up and began to pace, indecision keeping me from leaving and at the same time wanting me to go look for him. Just as I had decided to finally go and try to find him, Jonghyun came running down the street, his blonde bangs flopping into his face.

“Sorry, sorry I'm late!” he panted, his chest heaving lightly underneath the long black coat he wore. “I was over on the other side of the hospital, I had no idea it would have two entrances.”

“Oh my God, so you've been over there this whole time? It's my fault; I forgot to tell you which door I'd be leaving from. I'm sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Jonghyun said with an appreciative look at my outfit. “It was well worth the wait.” I felt heat suffuse my face and I laughed as we walked away from the hospital, our steps falling into pace with each other.

“So how was your day?,” he asked me sounding genuinely interested.

“It was like any other day I guess. Full of work and exhausting, but satisfying in that way that you know you've done a good job.”

“So you really love being a nurse huh?”

“It's all I ever dreamed about as a kid, apart from being a librarian,” I said with a smile.

“I could totally see you telling people to stay quiet in the library,” he joked. “But what made you choose nursing?”

“It was for simple reasons really,” I said with a shrug. “I wanted to help people, make them feel better. It seemed like the best way to do it.”

“I think I understand. You have that need to reach as many people as possible. I feel the same way about my job.”

“And just what do you do, Mr. Kim?” I questioned him.

“I'm beginning to think your real job is teasing me Noelle,” he smirked. “I don’t do anything noble like healing people the way you do; I'm a singer and songwriter back in Korea.”

“Really? That's one of the best jobs I can think of and it explains the hair. Artists always have crazy hair.”

Jonghyun put a hand on his head, pulling at the dark brown strands at the back of his head.

“I thought I looked cool,” he pouted.

“You look great,” I laughed, happy to see his childish side. Jonghyun had seemed so larger than life and mature the last time I'd seen him, first while playing the piano and again out on the street. But now I wondered at this innocent side of his personality, the one that was quick to laugh and even quicker to make a joke. As we continued to walk to my house, the cold air began to blow right through my coat. I’d always lived in the northern states and I’d known that my pink coat couldn’t truly withstand the type of weather that was heralding the winter, but I’d wanted to look cute. As I shivered, I realized how accurate people were when they said you had to suffer for fashion. As I shook through another cold gust of wind, Jonghyun noticed and steered me into the next late-night coffee shop we passed. Grabbing himself an Americano, and a hot chocolate for me, we stopped to sit inside the cozy shop as we drank our beverages.  

“You don't seem like yourself today,” Jonghyun observed quietly as he took a sip of his coffee.

I gave him a weak smile, feeling weird that a practical stranger could read me so easily. “It must be all over my face huh?”

“Not really, I think I may have just been paying you too much attention,” he commented with a smile that lit up his whole face.

His words make me smile too, but it fades as I think back on my day, what I'd seen and how I'd felt. And for some reason, I feel comfortable enough to tell Jonghyun, a person whom I’ve just met, something that I hadn't yet been able to tell my best friend.

“I don't know what's wrong with me but for almost two weeks I've felt like I'm always on the verge of tears. There's a feeling in my chest, like that tight feeling you get when you first want to cry? I feel it all the time, like it's just waiting to catch me off guard. No matter how many times I cry it out, the feeling is still there.”

“So why are you fighting it?” he queries, his hand reaching out to touch mine gently.

“What do you mean ‘why’? I don't want to be upset.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe sometimes we're meant to be sad? Everyone feels depressed sometimes but they push it away and tell themselves they aren't allowed to feel the way they feel. But maybe you should embrace it just once. Give in to your emotions, listen to sad music, watch sad movies, and eat as much junk food as you want. Give yourself a day or two to just exist.”

“I always thought giving in to bad feelings made it more difficult to stop them?” I asked, bemusement warring with a need to do exactly as he said. He shook his head at me, something like a smirk gracing his lips.

“Noelle, if you're sad, be sad. Time passes anyway. And while it does you can ease the pain you feel.”

I sat back in my seat as I thought over his words. Maybe he was right; it was my way to push aside my feelings, I had always done so. Even when it came to my parents, I had never told them how alone I felt all the time. And now that work was making me feel all of these emotions that I’d pushed aside, I was panicking. But if Jonghyun was right, if I could just let myself go for one day and feel what it was that my body wanted me to, maybe I could finally feel normal again.

We left the coffee shop and continued to walk to my apartment, our earlier serious mood taking a turn to the lighter side of things. As I told him about my disastrous first day of work in the hospital, he told me what it was like working for the picky stars he made music for. We had been talking and laughing so much that I didn’t realize we’d made it to my building until Jonghyun finally stopped walking. The both of us looked at each other, neither of us quite willing to let the other go just yet.

 “So, do you work again tomorrow night?” he asked me carefully.

“Yeah, every day until this weekend.”

“That’s good then; I'll be waiting outside the hospital tomorrow night. At the right entrance this time.” He’d declared his intentions instead of asking me, and for some reason I found it unbearably endearing.

“I'll be looking forward to it,” I answered. I gave him a wave as he backed away from the glass door of my building, his eyes still intent on me. Jonghyun didn’t move until I was inside and I gave him one last wave as I walked down the hallway towards the elevator. The image of him looking at me, his hands shoved into his pockets, stayed fresh in my mind all night. 

And we're back! Hello my lovelies!!! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and continue looking forward to more. I'm just really enjoying dealing with complex emotions in this story and I hope you guys find that you can relate as well. Also guys please check out Bii's Back in Time, it's a wonderful song (I low-key hope you guys listen to all the music I mention in this story lol) Please continue to Upvote, Subscribe and Comment for more chapters and tell me down below how you guys liked this chapter and what you think will happen next! Love you guys <3