“My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. To take pride in my thoughts, my appearance, my talents, my flaws and to stop this incessant worrying that I can’t be loved as I am.”

—Anaïs Nin

Junmyeon would never hurt me like this.

“Well, is he okay? What happened?” At this point, Sehun must be tired of my incessant questioning, but he does nothing to show his discomfort. “Sehun!” I speak in a hushed tone, careful not to be too loud. “What are they saying?”

“I’m on hold until they find the doctor, but apparently he passed out because he was dehydrated.” Sehun rubs my back. “It’s going to be fine, Sunhee. He didn’t hit his head or anything.”

“Still!”

“Sunhee, be quiet.” Sehun hushes me by nudging me in the rib. “Yes? Uh-huh. Yes… No. Okay.” As I’m leaning over to hear what the doctor or nurse is saying, he nudges my side again. “Sunhee, stop. He’s awake on an IV drip apparently. He feels fine, but they suggested we take him home soon until he gets better. He has a fever from overexertion.”

“Overexertion? Okay, that’s not that bad, but—”

The thought hits me with a brick. Of course. Junmyeon, according to Jongdae, has always been diligent and hardworking. Throughout his grad school career, he consistently placed himself at the top—or near it—no matter what the sacrifice. According to Sehun who also works late nights from time to time, Junmyeon would sometimes still be up at 2AM trying to finish a paper. I guess I have to say that I’ve noticed this too. Junmyeon does have the habit of making his bed multiple times to smooth the wrinkles. But who saw this coming? Who saw him collapsing due to dehydration?

“When are we going to the hospital?” I tug at Sehun’s sleeve.

He seems to hesitate, taking in a sharp intake of breath. “Now?”

“Now.”

A part of me feels terrible for dragging Sehun into this whole ordeal. He just came back from work and had sunk deeply into the couch when his phone rang. But because he’s good natured, he picked up with a cheerful voice that dropped down an octave upon hearing the caller. Now, we’re in his car, him sighing, me worrying.

“Really, Sunhee. He’s okay.”

“But is he really? Who in their right mind would work until they collapse?” I think of Joanne baking an endless batch of cookies, buying every store out of flour until she falls to the floor, clutching a container of sugar that spills as she does. “He needs to take a break from this residency thing. He’s endangering himself.”

“Whoa, what?” Sehun scoffs. “He’s always done stuff like this, and he always gets away with it. Why? Because he’s not self-destructive. He knows his limits too; it just takes him some to get to know them. Now that he knows his limit, it won’t happen again.”

“Still! Collapsing due to dehydration? That’s reckless! Who would do that?” A prickle of a flame claws at my heart. “What if something to happened to him? What would I do?” The feeling of a girl named Sunhee sitting alone with an empty spot where a man named Junmyeon should be haunts me. Moreover, it becomes real. The feeling of his hands leaving. “Sehun, I love him. Did you forget that?”

Sehun just continues to drive until he stops somewhere.

“I understand, don’t worry,” he says. “But this is going to happen whether you like it or not. He’ll get hurt and so will you, but you can’t do anything about it. There are some things in the world that just have to happen. This is life. And you know what they say about it—”

Life’s not fair.

“If it makes you feel better, he worries about you each time you’re not with him.”

“But I don’t want him to worry—”

Sehun snaps his fingers. “Exactly. Love isn’t about worrying and placing restrictions on a person so you wouldn’t have to worry.”

I can’t say anything after that. The next words we utter are surrounded by white walls.

“Dehydration is a mild problem,” a doctor drones on as he leads us to a room. “that a lot of people in the medical have—especially surgeons who have to go several hours without a break. It’s not particularly life threatening, but when people collapse—that’s when you have to worry.”

“You said he was fine.” Sehun disregards anything that the doctor has said.

“I did, but—”

“Sunhee!” Junmyeon’s voice echoes from a room. “In here.”

Using Sehun’s arm as a guide, the hallway’s smell of antiseptic gives way to a room hinting of Junmyeon’s cologne.

“You have to remember to drink more water,” the doctor reminds Junmyeon. “I can’t have one of my best apprentices down because he forgot to take care of himself.”

“I’ll be fine.” Junmyeon chuckles. “Thanks, Dr. Q.” Footsteps walk away, and a hot hand caresses mine. “Hey.”

“What were you thinking?” I sit on the bedside and face his general direction. “Really, Jun? Dehydration? I thought you knew better.”

“Sorry about that.” He pats my hand. “I didn’t mean to worry you. So, I see you brought Sehun.”

“More like I brought her,” Sehun defends himself. “I was about to sleep on the couch when I get a phone call about some who didn’t drink enough water. Why don’t you explain yourself out of that one?”

“I just want to take my job seriously, okay? I didn’t realize that I wasn’t drinking enough fluids.”

“You have to start worrying more about yourself now, you know that?” Sehun’s voice moves from one side of the room to the next. “People love you, and when they do, you can no longer bring harm to only yourself.”

“Wait, but I thought—” I cut myself off amid trying to understand the reason for Sehun’s change of words. “Didn’t you say—”

“Love is about compromise too, isn’t it?” Sehun’s voice is behind me now, and it chides. “I thought about what you said and what I said.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Junmyeon interrupts. “Have you guys been spending that much time together? Should I be worried that my girlfriend is cheating on me with my best friend?”

“No,” Sehun and I say in unison.

“Sure,” Junmyeon drags out the one-syllable word. “I’m sorry, though. You guys are right. I’m supposed to be a doctor. What am I doing not drinking water? Not sleeping? This is stupid. I wasted your time, and Sehun—god—you look like death.”

“Hey!”

“Jun,” I giggle, “don’t worry. This is a lesson we can learn from. Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

He squeezes my hand with his warm one. “Of course. You guys should get going. I’ll stay for the night because Sehun looks like—”

“If I look like death, then at least we know death looks good in an Armani suit.”

“Okay, Sehun,” Junmyeon snickers, “okay.”

After receiving a hug, Sehun and I make our way back to the parking lot where the cool air caresses our cheeks, where the smell of asphalt and missing trees tickles our noses.

“I love you too,” Sehun states without warning. “N-Not in that way, if that’s what you’re thinking. But you’re one of my best friends, Sunhee. You’re good at listening, and not a lot of people like to listen to me. So, thank you. It means a lot.”

- - - - -

November comes with rain that leaves me bedridden with a stuffed nose, a warm forehead, and aching lungs. It’s around this time that Joanne leaves for California to visit some of her friends, leaving me to much needed independence—which unfortunately results in this mess. Junmyeon even thinks it was foolish for me to navigate the city by myself with only Beau as my aide.

The chicken noodle soup—born from my recipe, raised from his hands—tastes delightful, however, and while most of its flavor is lost in my sinuses, the tangy spices sprinkled within can still dance on my tongue. Colds aren’t that terrible in retrospect. A cold for a bed? A warm meal? Junmyeon’s cool body next to mine? Yes, please.

“Why are you smiling like that?” He disrupts my reverie. “I would ask if I have anything on my face, but… What?” The spoon clatters as he puts it back in the bowl. “What’s the joke?”

“Nothing,” I giggle, “Dr. Kim.”

“Oh,” he groans. “Please. Call me by my first name.”

“But think about it!” I protest. “You’re a doctor—how cool is that?—and I’m under your care. I’m your patient. You’re not Junmyeon. You’re Dr. Kim.” I continue giggling, poking him in his firm abdomen. “All the nurses must have a crush on you. Handsome guy…” My eyebrows twitch upward on their own. “…with a graduate degree in medicine, so he’s smart too.”

“Stop,” he says, but he laughs afterward. “Don’t call me doctor. It suggests that we have a professional relationship, and I can’t be very professional around you.” His nose nuzzles against mine. “Now, do you want to finish your soup or do you want to keep talking about this?”

“Soup,” I say without missing a beat. After a few sips and bites of chicken, I inquire about his residency. “So, how long is it again? I miss you.”

“Well,” he sighs, “I’m going to be an anesthesiologist, so the residency for that is four years.” He pauses and serves me another a spoonful. “I’ll be 30-something when you can officially visit me at the hospital as Dr. Kim.”

“That’s a lot of work.” My lip curls upward, not very fond of how time consuming his goals are. “You’re always gone.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not going to last forever. And we have days like this too. When you’re sick, and I can stay to take care of you.”

“Maybe I should get sick more often then.”

“No,” he asserts. “Sunhee, no.”

“It’s a joke—”

“And I’m being serious. Wait for me, okay? I’ll give you everything someday, but for now, we have to work through it.”

I’ll give you everything someday. His words echo around the confines of my mind, teasing memories here and there with gentle taps or harsh tugs. Hasn’t he already given me everything? His hand next to mine: isn’t that all I need? To be quite honest, the simplest pleasure he gives me are the best. When I can’t sleep, he senses it somehow and moves closer. Or when I sit alone and he finds me and sits next to me. His presence is already everything.

My heart is so full, so vulnerable that it hurts. “You,” I say, cupping his cheeks, “are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched.”

“No.” He takes my hands and places them on my cheeks instead. “This is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever touched.”

“I’m touching myself—”

His sound of platinum resonates with my heart.

- - - - -

“What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life?” Joanne asks in the midst of another batch of my famous brownies. “It’s almost 2019, Sunhee. You’re—what? 23? 24? Doesn’t matter, actually. You’re only getting older. Don’t you have any plans for yourself?” Before I can even respond, she incorrectly fills in the blanks. “Are you going to be one of those housewives because I really don’t see you as someone who’d do that.”

“That’s because I’m not,” I interject. “I’m not thinking about marriage or anything—yet. I’m still learning, you know? I’ve been blind for ages, but I still have to get used to this because I wasn’t very active up until a year ago.”

“Do you have an idea of what you want to be then?” Something sizzles in a pan and Joanne curses. “Get me a paper towel.”

I tear one off the familiar roll. “Here.” She grabs it from my hand. “And no, I don’t really know what I want to do. I want to