~He should’ve known better than to judge her based on her parents.

He sits in the backseat, totally lost in his mind. The memory of the nameless girl’s ruby blood on his hands and her pale skin still haunts him with its vivid images. It’s all your fault; a cruel voice blames him from the inside, while regret overflows in his heart and fills his system with liquid bitterness. Now, she is all alone and it’s all your fault.

He should’ve been calmer and he definitely should have been more quiet. If only, he could turn back time! But he couldn’t. It’s something that no one is capable of therefore he has to learn how to live with himself, the pain and the essential remorse that already chokes him.

’Are you okay, sir?’ a deep voice full of concern asks him quietly. Although the words manage to reach his ears, their meaning is lost somewhere halfway and all Younghyun can think about is the faint noise that chases away the hoodlum’s dying figure. He looks miserable when his long fingers clench the strap of his backpack.

’Hmm?’ he mumbles with his dark eyebrows knit into each other. The depth of the crinkles on his forehead make him look older as the driver repeats his question. ’Oh, yes, I’m totally okay,’ he replies with a fake smile on his face yet his eyes uncover his anxiety right away. He is everything but okay. ’I’m just fine, really.’

The driver in the middle of his thirties doesn’t push him farther because his mother taught him well enough to know what personal space means. He presumes that the younger lost someone or if he didn’t then he will. After all, he asked him to stop in front of a hospital in the middle of the night with an appearance of a ghost whose hollow eyes brim with diamondlike tears. Beautiful and terrifying.

’Then would you pay for the ride?’ the driver asks from above his shoulder in a bit louder volume. He doesn’t intend to disturb the other’s quietude but he doesn’t have all the time of the world either. He has to work so he can make a living.

Younghyun takes aback and turns his head towards the older. This is the first time, his gaze loiters over the driver's warm features and tiny figure.

’What?’ he asks without a second thought, and bites his lower lip as he comes to realization. He sits in a cab and now that they arrived, he should get out of the car. ’Sure. I’m sorry,’ he says with a low-key smile before he sinks his hand into his backpack. He gets out his wallet with a motion as slow as molasses. He gives twice as much as it’s necessary. ’You can keep the change.’

As Younghyun’s hand lets the car door go, the vehicle disappears behind the first corner and the huge, white building with red characters on its front wall shows itself silently.

He stays still for a little eternity; ephemeral moments die while he’s waiting. As much as he tries to deny it, the truth is obvious. He’s scared. Scared of reality, the inevitable consequences of his aggressive side, his actions he simply cannot turn into nothing. He cannot take them back nor act as if they’ve never happened at all.

’Good night! How can I help you, sir?’ the receptionist asks as her brown eyes meet with the broken boy. He doesn’t even remember when he crossed the threshold.

Younghyun clears his throat and lifts his head up so he can look at the woman dressed in all white and green. She seems tired but the concern that settles on her features shows her more alive than the bass guitarist felt himself in the last two weeks. After the horror of the night, he definitely doubts that he will be able to find peace in his dreams ever again.

’I’m looking for a girl. She had a car crash not so long ago,’ he says with utter desperation. Younghyun’s nails scratch the surface of the counter as he tries to get closer to the receptionist. His wet hair sticks onto his forehead so roughly he looks like madness itself. Especially with his almond shaped eyes wide open. ’She has to be here.’

The woman’s face is like a rigid mask as she notices the cruor drying onto his skin. As Younghyun realizes the change in the receptionist’s behavior and his gaze glides from the woman to his hands, he hides them behind his back within a single heartbeat. His movements are way too fast and extremely suspicious.

’Are you her relative?’ she questions him and her voice has an edge on purpose. It forces the musician to take aback. Due to the sudden movement, the hood slides back from the top of his head and even though he knows that his manager will kill him for it, he takes off the grey textile. He cannot look like a filthy criminal if his covered face keep him away from the informations he needs. He has to be reliable.

’No. No, I am not,’ he admits and takes a deep breath before he comes up with a story. The tale is on the tip of his tongue. How they met. What they are. How important she is. ’I’m her friend.’

But before he can say more, the woman’s firm question outplaces his fake fairytale about their wonderful life together.

’Do you know her name?’

No, he does not. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t know anything about her except one tiny detail that drives him crazy ever since he turned his back on her almost half an hour ago. She’s a hoodlum, she has no one to turn to and now, she is all alone. What if she wakes up and there will be no one she can recognize? And what’s worse, what if she doesn’t make it and dies in a hospital without anyone noticing the lack of her presence?

’Please! I need to know if she’s okay,’ he begs without cease. ’Please! I won’t disturb her. I promise.’ It’s an oath, he doesn’t intend to break.

’Sorry, but I can’t help you,’ the receptionist shakes her head, a mop of hair falls out of her strict bun. She looks down on the younger with a pitiful gaze that makes the other’s veins burn between the flames of rage. His cheeks turn to crimson as the temperature rises.

He puts his hands onto the counter once again. And this time, he doesn’t care about the scene he makes. Not in the least.

’Is she alive?’ he asks firmly, clenching his lips and teeth.

Why is it so hard to answer a goddamn question?

This time, it’s the woman’s turn. She is the one who takes aback with her dark eyebrows knit into each other. She looks helpless and lost as she the edge of out of mere habit.

’Sir, I already told you that I have to follow the rules,’ she tells him, looking directly into his dark eyes full of a strange mixture of anger and remorse. Her hands are tied by the hospital regulations just as his by the reputation of their band and JYP Entertainment. He already crossed some incontestable boundaries when he followed the ambulance car, took off his grey hood and shouted at the woman.

He has to calm down before he destroys more lives starting with his own friends’.

’Fine.’

Younghyun turns his back on the counter and sighs while his feet take a weak step towards the exit. It’s funny how a single decision can change everything. A stubborn statement, and a rejected invitation. If only, he would say yes to his mates!

’Are you Young K from Day6?’ a cozy voice forces him to stay. It comes from behind his back followed by a delicate touch on the shoulder.

First, he doesn’t want to stop but his mind takes over control and halts him in the middle of his runaway. He his lips and clenches his fist before he look the young practitioner in the eye. She looks quite pretty with her long, dark locks, petite body and fairy-like face that seems to worry about the boy with utter honesty.

’Sorry but you mistake me for someone else,’ Younghyun replies, and the lame lie rolls down from his lips so easily like a soft breeze fondles the dry leaves in the nightfall of autumn. He pulls up the grey hood from beneath his leather jacket ever so casually and without a pinch of hesitation, walks out of the building full of death and gloominess.

The unforgiving cold of the autumn air trembles the young man’s body although that’s the slightest punishment he thinks he deserves. He puts his right hand into his pocket and takes his phone out immediately so he can find the shortest way back to the dorm using one of his apps.

’Are you looking for the girl who got hit by a car, aren’t you?’ the same, pleasant voice asks him with hidden curiosity, however, this time the faint touch forgets to dwell on the boy’s broad shoulder. The practitioner stays behind and the itching gap between them elongates as Younghyun takes a step forwards.

’Is she alive?’ He doesn’t look at the girl whose head leans against the cold wall of the enormous building. He cannot get himself to do so.

The practitioner watches him sitting down the icy concrete and closes her eyes with a nasty kink in . When the musician’s loud yet familiar voice slapped her ears, she recognized him in a flash. Even though, he’s nothing like she imagined in the first place. The shattered young man sitting in front of him looks pathetic and broken.

’She is in the operating room. Her name is Nam Bomi,’ she says quietly, a sad smile playing on her mellow lips. She wonders what could possibly happen between the dying girl and her beloved idol. Did they have a fight, a silly debate? Did she run away after an unwished confession? Did they know each other at all?

While the young woman sinks into her mind full of unanswered questions, Younghyun’s tongue plays with the hoodlum’s name. Such pretty characters for an equally pretty girl.

’Why did you tell me all this?’ he asks with his knitted brows. As time goes by, one of them still remains in the middle of his forehead while the other glides back to its original place oh so heavily. He doesn’t understand why would a complete stranger help him, when he obviously does not intend to give anything in return. Not a single sign nor a perfect photo.

’You looked lost,’ she answers shyly.

’But I lied right into your face.’

After Younghyun’s confession, the only thing that left is silence. It prolongs, shuts out reality and – with every passing moment – becomes deeper and deeper.

In the end, it’s the practitioner who breaks the muteness.

’They will place her on the second floor. Room 205,’ she says before she turns her back on the man. She walks back to her task, endless paperwork and empty mugs lack of caffeine, without caving in the urge to look back.

’Thank you,’ Younghyun mumbles under his nose as he stands up and stretchs out his tired limbs. His voice is faint, barely above a whisper, hence the woman never gets her chance to hear his gratitude.  

The bass guitarist turns off his phone and puts it back into his pocket. He has two options now and suddenly neither of them seems a good idea. After all, he has no talent for comforting others. What could he possibly say? Sorry for pushing you onto the ground? Sorry for… but what is he sorry for? He didn’t do anything, did he? As he looks down on his hands, the thief’s blood blurs the details in his mind and paints it red, carmine, crimson.

He’s in the large restroom on the second floor with white and green tiles, facing with his own, exhausted self full of sugary coffee. The ungainful light – once again – distorts his features therefore the ugly, purple crescents make a mockery out of his sleepless nights.

’Is she…’ a high, feminine voice echoes in Younghyun’s ears as he grabs the handle with his freshly washed hands. He leans close to the door frame and outpeeps from his hideaway quite carefully.

His gaze takes a nap on the people dressed in all magnificence and gold. The woman, whose hysterical question still tinkles in Younghyun’s mind, walks ahead while her jitter husband follows her from a distance. They look so odd and strangely familiar.

’My poor baby! Is she okay?’ the woman in her late forties asks while her not-so-weak arms grabs the young doctor’s collar. Her fingers become white within a single heartbeat as her face turns to red. It scares the out of the musician hence he doesn’t come out of his safe place. He just stands there and waits; waits for loneliness to embrace him once again in the depressive corridor and for the girl to survive the surgery.

’She is stable but…’ the doctor steps backwards and looks directly into the woman’s fiery eyes. ’I won’t lie, one of her ribs scraped the cardiac muscle of her heart.’

It takes Younghyun a minute or two to realize who they’re talking about and why the woman was so familiar in the first place. Her petite body, pale skin and dark locks are just like hers with one tiny exception. While this woman wears silk and cashmere, the hoodlum’s hood was poor and outworn. Why would someone so rich hide in the dark?

’What does it mean?’ the husband asks while his palm glides onto his wife’s trembling hand. He holds her tight and envelopes her into his embrace as if he’s already known the answer.

’She needs a donor. Otherwise, sooner or later, and I hope it’s the latter, she will die,’ the man tells them although his deep tone dies as Younghyun loses his balance. His left shoulder crashes into the tilted wall while his knees start a shake even God himself couldn’t take over control.

’Then get a donor, for God’s sake,’ the hoodlum’s mother begs between loud swears and desperate weeping. Her legs give up so easily, only his husband’s manly arms save her from the fall. Too bad that there is no one who could do the same for the bass guitarist on the other side of the wall.

He falls into pieces.

’The list is too long. I can’t help you.’ The doctor is ready to leave however the married couple, whose baby girl is about to die, isn’t finished at all. They don’t intend to throw in the towel when they have everything a common person can wish for. Glamor, expensive jewels, luxurious cars and casinos all over the world.

There is nothing in the world one cannot buy with money.

’You don’t understand. We have enough money,’ the woman declares while Younghyun wipes some nasty tears out of his eyes. This absurd situation doesn’t make sense at all. Why would a rich girl like her, a daddy’s princess act like a street trash and steal his backpack? What the actual heck happened a few hours earlier? ’Get a donor!’

’And put her into a private room.’ As the order leaves the rich husband’s mouth, Younghyun stands up and takes a deep breath, two, three. He doesn’t interested in these snob, wealthy people at all therefore when he manages to calm down, he grabs the handle and steps out of the restroom as quietly as a ghost. He doesn’t look back as he becomes one with the scenery.

The doctor pitiful as you wish, sir, as you wish still echoes in his mind while he waits for his drive outside in the chilly weather.

author's note
What can I say? Thank you for those who are still here, reading this crazy idea of mine. You have to know that I am more than grateful ^^
Have an amazing day xx