Round and round and round we go, like a merry-go-round.

You with your fiery thoughts and wild gestures, pouncing on my words like you’re a predator out for blood. Never failing to set my world ablaze with the ferocity of your actions, and never regretting the carnage that you leave behind like the scent of a crushed rose. Almost feral, almost lovable, and wholesome in your own way.

And me, with my fearful insecurities, wanting to be understood, to be cared for, to be made whole again. Never understanding that the cage I am in is a cage only as far as I make it out to be, trapping myself with the dreams of others, the words that they say with their stares and their hearts, but never their words.

You are the splash of red to my world of blue, and I have never wanted to be purple my whole life.

The wards still had those ugly pale grey wallpaper with the faded flowers like they used to years ago, back when he called the hospital his home.

Same old wooden side table, same rickety hospital bed, except this time it’s more technologically advanced, probably the same hospital curtains too.

Nothing’s changed since I stayed here, and it shows.

He was seated in the corner, watching his mother speak to guests; they had been coming since morning, and he had watched his mother describe the story of how the four-car collision had happened, resulting in her own injuries sustained in the impact from being sandwiched in between cars.

His eyes strayed to the photo frame on the wall, bearing a simple watercolor painting that was probably printed, hanging right above his mother’s bed. It was a landscape painting of the Han River, with its bridge and the water flowing beneath it.

One moment, he was sitting quietly in the chair of a hospital ward, hearing the voices permeate his ears. The next, he was whisked away back in time, to when the days were brighter, and he was not bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.

They had gone to the river for a walk. He faintly remembered going there with both his parents and his sister, and had seen a clown performing tricks next to some musicians.

“Noona, look!” he had said, tugging his sister’s hand and pulling her closer to watch as the clown juggled various objects high into the air.

Yoora was in elementary school, wearing her uniform with her hair tied into pigtails, her bangs covering her eyes. “I don’t like clowns, Channie, you know they scare me.”

Their father had come then. “And why would clowns scare you?” he had teased, carrying her up onto his shoulders, “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything?”

His sister squealed as she held on tightly. “Anything but clowns!” she giggled.

Chanyeol had stared up at her, the clown momentarily forgotten. “Me too, me too!” he had whined, raising his hands.

His mother had come over then. “I’ll carry you,” she had offered, but he refused.

“Abeojiiiiiii!” he pouted, and to his delight, his father bent over slightly – while still keeping his sister balanced – and scooped him up, holding him in his arms.

Chanyeol’s eyes fluttered shut, feeling the happiness he had once felt that day by the river, and when he opened his eyes, he realized how much they stung now.

There were no tears, and yet, it felt as though he had very much wanted to let out the frustration that had welled up deep inside.

What happened to us, Abeoji?

The question echoed deep inside of him.

Was I not good enough for you after the accident?

He in a haggard breath.

Where does the time go?

“Good afternoon,” came a soft voice from the door, jolting him from his thoughts.

Oh, .

There, standing at the threshold of his mother’s ward, was Ju Hyun and her mother. Both were in matching dresses, and Ju Hyun sent him a meek smile as he shot up and bowed to them.

Mrs Seo beamed as she gazed upon him, and he resisted the urge to not stare at the woman’s stretched out features; after all, it was widely known that she knew many of the country’s plastic surgeons by name. “Why is it that every time I see you, you grow taller and more handsome?” she commented, turning to his mother, “What is it that you feed him, I simply must feed my son.”

I have absolutely no idea how and why they are friends. Mrs Seo wears more makeup than her daughter.

And that bright red lipstick, good lord, where did she get it from?

“He takes care of himself well enough with no interference from me,” came the reply, “Besides, he takes after his late father, as you know.”

Mrs Seo sighed as she went to sit on the sofa next to the bed. “Are you saying my husband is short?” she joked, and the two ladies burst into polite laughter.

Some of his relatives began to bid goodbye, leaving the ward, and he found it increasingly difficult to return to his seat, especially since Ju Hyun was merely standing next to the bed. She must have been out, judging from the extravagant aura emanating from her; perhaps she and her mother had been to yet another social engagement.

He went to take his chair, offering it to Ju Hyun. “Have a seat,” he offered.

“It’s fine, I can stand,” she whispered back.

“In those red bottoms?” he asked, “Maybe not.”

She chuckled softly, placing a hand on his forearm. “Thank you,” she murmured, proceeding to sit.

Her touch lingered, even after she removed her delicate fingers, and a chill rippled through him.

His face became even more hot when he realized that both the two women were talking in hushed whispers and looking at him.

“Where’s Yoora?” he asked his mother.

“Last I heard, she was calling her fiancé. Why?”

“Is he joining us for lunch too?”

“The lunch with Sun Young?”

Mrs Seo, craning her neck and squinting at him, tilted her head in confusion. “Sun Young?” she asked, glancing at her daughter, “Isn’t that one of the girls in your little show?”

Ju Hyun’s body seemed to still, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but feel a little adrenaline rush, knowing that the heiress wasn’t particularly fond of the florist. “Yeah,” he answered, making the girl turn to look at him.

They locked gazes; hers was thoughtful, with an undercurrent of suspicion. His was wide-eyed, all pretense and blissful ignorance.

His mother was the first to speak. “She and my daughter’s friend helped to bring my children over to the hospital last night after I had the accident,” she explained, “Yoora’s bringing them out to lunch, as a gesture of gratitude for helping her and Chanyeol last night. Why don’t you go find your sister, Channie? Ask her what time our guests are coming?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a little salute, ever thankful to be given the chance to leave the ward, and grabbed his blazer and walked out.

Before he did, he made sure to bow to the visitors. “If I do not make it back in time, I hope you have a safe journey,” he bade them, waving until he closed the door behind him.

He walked down the corridor, passing the closed doors of the other wards. It felt like he was walking through a memory, the way his legs seemed to know where to go. He remembered running down the length of this very walkway, playing hide and seek with the nurses. He remembered why he couldn’t be at the pediatrics’ ward, and that was because his father wanted him to be here, away from the other children.

“You might fall sick from their bad bugs,” his mother once told him, but he knew the truth.

His father didn’t want him out of his sight. He wasn’t going to let anything happen again, and that was the painful truth.

He remembered asking the nurses if they knew about a girl who was admitted to the hospital because of a car accident, and the dejection he felt when they said there were many little girls who were involved in car accidents.

One girl couldn’t be any more different than all these other girls.

And yet…

And yet every night he wished and he prayed and he had hoped that one day, he would be reunited with the girl in his dreams once more.

One day, he told himself. One day, he would find her.

She was right in front of him, he just had to look hard enough.

Okay.

You can do this.

Park Sun Young stood in front of the glass doors of the hospital, suddenly unsure of whether she even wanted to enter. It had been exactly fifteen minutes since she first loitered outside these glass doors, and forty-five minutes since she arrived. In that time, she had finished a cup of bubble tea, passed the pediatrics’ ward – and glimpsed at the nursery where the babies were – said hello to some of the nurses who used to take care of her, and circumnavigated the hospital’s ground floor.

If that wasn’t called procrastinating, she didn’t know what was.

But that aside. Now was the real thing.

In her hands was a bouquet of flowers – daisies in red, yellow, pink and white – wrapped with brown paper and a pink ribbon; the flower shop had received a large shipment of the flower just this morning, and Miss Jung had insisted that she give some to Mrs Park, before shooing her out for a long lunch break.

Maybe it’s so that she can talk to the flower supplier guy without me being around; Soojung is still in Busan for her trip after all.

Sun Young sighed to herself.

Why can’t I just live like Miss Jung? She always looks like she’s got everything together: a great relationship with her sister, independence, her own business, and a stream of customers who never give her too much trouble.

No drama, no academic stress, no random reality competition shows to wear her out.

Gosh, what I’d do to live like that. Even for a day.

But nope. Here I am, standing outside the hospital, not too excited at the prospect of having lunch with the Parks.

Mrs Park and Yoora aren’t the problem.

She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the bouquet. Eyebrows furrowed in determination, she put one foot in front of the other, walking into the hospital with a worried pout on her lips.

‘I’ve reached the hospital, unnie,’ she texted, stuffing her handphone into her pocket.

Heh. If only she knew how long I’ve been here.

She spotted the lift lobby up ahead almost immediately, and it was as if she was a child again, looking at the surroundings of the hospital like she used to.

There’s the vending machine, selling hot sandwiches, right next to the drinks one. The button for ham sandwich always needs some force because it’s too old.

And there’s the reception counter where I used to steal candy from whenever the receptionists are busy with helping with visitors.

Right on cue, as if the heavens heard her, the receptionists were serving a distraught family of four right when she passed by.

Her hand reached out, making sure to take a few pieces of candy and stuffing it into the pocket of her dress, biting her lip to hide the cheeky smile.

She slowed down as she reached the lobby, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she wondered where to go.

The hospital cafeteria and restaurants are towards the right, and the inpatient wards are upstairs.

I wonder where I’m supposed to meet them.

Hmm. Should I call him?

She shuddered.

Of course not.

Ugh. He hasn’t texted me since his call last night, and I’ve no intention to further add to this awkwardness.

I’ll call Yoora.

She hasn’t replied to my message; maybe there’s a bunch of people visiting Mrs Park.

She looked down at her dress. Her mother wasn’t home to see her leave the house, and she had picked out a pastel mint dress with floral motifs. she wondered if it was a little too modest for the lunch; what if there were other visitors who would stare at her.

She might embarrass the Parks.

Taking her phone out of her pocket, she was about to call the woman in question when the lift lobby doors opened and-

Sun Young felt something akin to electricity shoot through her veins as, amidst the many people exiting, Chanyeol stepped out of the elevator with an intense expression on his face.

He was wearing a red turtleneck – who even wears turtlenecks at this time of the year, winter’s over – and a long black blazer over it.

She pressed her lips together.

Why does he always dressed like he’s working. It’s Saturday; doesn’t he only works five-day work weeks?

She immediately turned away, shutting her eyes as she willed Yoora to pick up.

He’s not going to see you, you’re standing next to the wall. Right next to the dustbin. You’re not in his line of sight.

Yoora didn’t pick up. Instead there was a beep and the call was ended.

“Darn it,” she muttered, staring at her phone, “Are you really going to tell me she’s not going to pick up my-”

“Miss Park?”

, Sun Young, you were wrong, he saw you.

Of course hiding near the dustbin isn’t going to work; you’re wearing something bright.

She turned, making sure to look unbothered as her gaze fell on the hotel director, now standing much closer to her. “Oh, hello. I was just calling your sister.”

He briefly met her eyes, then looked away. “She’s helping my mother have her medicine.”

“That explains why she didn’t pick up.”

He gave a curt nod. “This way,” he said, going over to press the elevator button.

Sun Young looked around, hoping there was at least someone who was going to take the elevator with her.

But somehow, suddenly, there was no one.

Ding!

The elevator doors opened, and Chanyeol turned, gesturing for her to enter first.

“Thanks,” she muttered quickly, entering. She proceeded to lean against the furthest corner from the buttons as Chanyeol pressed the topmost floor.

I’ve never wanted any random person to run into the elevator doors, she thought morosely to herself as the doors closed. Cradling the bouquet, she allowed the slight crinkling sound of the brown wrapping paper to fill up the suffocating silence which wasn’t helped by the fact that there was no elevator music to hide the fact that both were not talking to each other.

She stared at Chanyeol’s back, wondering if he was still upset over what had happened at the greenhouse last night. Chewing on her lip nervously, she wondered if there was anything she could say that would somehow diffuse whatever it was between us; the silence was starting to get to her, and she wanted so desperately to say something, but she couldn’t trust herself to say something appropriate enough.

So she tore her eyes away, forcing her to look at the little monitor above the lift doors, watching the numbers go up and up and up.

Wait.

She looked down at her phone, where she had been watching Soojung’s updates on her quick Busan getaway, and went to her text messages with Yoora.

Why did he press the tenth floor when the ward is on the eighth floor?

Park Chanyeol’s hands were cold and stiff at his sides; he forgot how many times he had swallowed down the words that were trying to force their way out of his lips; he couldn’t seem to think of anything that would sound smart enough to say aloud.

He had noticed her standing at the side as soon as he had reached the first floor, which was weird because there were a lot of people around the lobby area. But she was in a bright dress and it stood out against the boring grey walls of the hospital. Standing next to the black dustbin didn’t help to hide her either.

He hadn’t want to be the unfortunate person to go down and bring her upstairs – he wished it were anything but him – but Yoora had always been the one who took better care of their parents, and it had coincidentally been time for their mother to eat her medicine.

Add that to the fact that Ju Hyun and her mother were still in the ward, like they too were waiting for Sun Young to arrive.

And now it was up to him to bring Sun Young upstairs.

Honestly, it could have been worse. It could have been Ryeowook, but suddenly, when he had glimpsed upon Sun Young’s expression earlier, he almost wished that he was meeting Ryeowook; she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here, and he hated to admit that he had felt a little offended that she was trying not to show that she wanted to see anyone but him.

He had initially wanted to ask if the flowers she brought were from her shop, but when he had seen her face, the words were pushed back down and he made sure to shut his mouth.

Suddenly, even being in an elevator with the remarkably irritating equestrian Kim Ryeowook would have been a better punishment.

At least it wouldn’t be as silent as it was now.

He heard the rustling of the bouquet behind him, and a part of his mind was screaming at him to say something if only to fill up the silence that was getting to his nerves.

Is she still as angry as she was last night?

You should say something. Anything.

Doesn’t matter if it’s stupid. Or if it’s small talk.

Anything but this.

He glanced down at his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

But right as he hastily thought of a few things to say, the elevator doors opened and he was saved from the mortification of actually having to start a conversation that would die out faster than a candle on a birthday cake.

He stepped out of the elevator. “This way,” he said, before turning back so quickly that Sun Young almost walked into him.

“I,” he began.

She stared at him.

There was wariness there in the fluttering of her eyes. It unnerved him to a certain extent.

He cleared his throat. “My mother won’t be joining us for lunch,” he told her, before adding, “The doctor wanted her to eat her medicine and rest. Just thought you’d know.”

“Oh.”

“Her ward’s downstairs,” he said, “But um, Ju Hyun is there. With her mother.”

Nothing. No reaction. She simply blinked at him.

“I thought maybe it would be best if you guys didn’t see each other,” he said, hoping he sounded helpful, “It would be, you know, awkward.”

“It would.”

He bit his lip, nodding. “I hope you don’t mind, not going to the ward immediately,” he said, scratching the back of his head, “There’s a rooftop garden, just at the end. It’s quite windy.”

“There’s a rooftop garden here?” she blurted.

He nodded, jumping at the chance of conversation. He pointed to the far end of the corridor, away from the patient wards and towards the common area. “It’s right over here, follow me,” he said, quickening his steps.

We’re getting somewhere, Chan. We’re getting somewhere.

As long as we don’t stay still.

And then he realized something. Perhaps other visitors who had never been to the personal wards wouldn’t know of the amenities up here. All they would know is just the common areas downstairs, since the private ward floors were not accessible to anyone who wasn’t staying or visiting that floor.

He pushed open the glass doors to the rooftop garden – a small expanse of carpeted grass where little shrubs, colorful flowers, and sheltered paths covered in vines created a little haven away from the colorless décor of the hospital. There was a breeze here, given the fact that it was the topmost floor, and Chanyeol watched Sun Young smile softly to herself as she looked around.

She does that when she’s pleased. I noticed that.

He shut the door behind him and went towards a nearby bench, settling himself in it while Sun Young walked to the railing, leaning against it as she looked down at the view.

It seemed like some time before she turned, meeting his gaze.

“How long are we going to stay up here?” she asked, pushing the hair away from her face whenever the breeze blew it over her eyes.

He took off his blazer, holding it in front of him as he peered down at his phone. “Until my sister tells me they’re gone.”

“I thought you liked her.”

He looked up quickly, her words making something inside him somersault, but she was not facing him.

He merely stared. Did she just throw a sarcastic comment at me?

“I most definitely do not,” he shot back.

She gave a look past her shoulder. “It seemed like it in the previews for the episode on the ferry cruise.”

He shut his eyes and groaned. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I saw it, on Instagram just now.”

“Well good for you.”

There was silence once more, except for the sound of the wind, and the occasional honking of a car down below. Sun Young didn’t move from her spot at the railing, and he began to wonder if it was because she didn’t want to come near him.

Because even sitting under the shelter was causing him to sweat in his thin turtleneck, and he began to question whether she was feeling hot.

He bit his lip again, feeling the need to say something to fill the silence, and he stared at her back as he mustered the courage to say what he meant to say. Adrenaline coursed through him, and he took a deep breath, opening his mouth to let the words come forth…

…when his phone rang.

Startled, he almost dropped his phone as he answered it. “Hi, noona, yes?”

“They’re gone. You can come now.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, I walked them to the elevator.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on over.”

He hung up, feeling Sun Young’s eyes on him. “They’re gone,” he said, “We can go down now.”

“Okay.”

They walked back to the elevator, and he pressed the button. The doors closed and they were alone again.

The doors opened. “Okay. Um, follow me.”

“Lead the way.”

He his heel and continued walking to his mother’s ward. There was something almost automatic in the way he was heading to the ward; all the patient wards were similar in design, and he couldn’t help but think of when he was younger, when he was stuck in hospital following the terrible accident.

It was only