You wake up to the familiar white surface of the hospital room’s ceiling.  Hearing people talking in hushed tones, you decided to keep looking like you were asleep.  The pounding in your head needs time to cease completely, anyways.

“......wasn’t so good, this time,”

It’s that doctor.  The one that took care of your family after the accident and since. 

“.......very risky, there’s not much guarantee, but it’s truly for the whole lot better.  She’ll be feeling heaviness in her hands now.  Another shock to her head will bring her hands to.......”

Oh no.  You try to lift an arm and whimper quietly.  Your hands.  They’re heaving down. 

“......hospital fees....”

Money again.  What do you do?

“.....got it covered, doctor.  Please don’t fuss about it, I don’t want to—“

That’s when you decide to sit up, very slowly.  You’d recognize that voice anywhere and no, you’re not letting him cover your hospital fees. 

“You’re up,” Lay rushes over to me and sits by your bed.  “How do you feel?”

“Great,” You throw him a grin, which quickly disappears as a subtle wave of nausea washes over you again.  You mustn’t think so much.  Focus on one thing and leave all the others.  “A little better, actually,”

“What do you think you were—“ Lay raises his voice but sighs afterwards, taking your hand and pressing it onto his lips.  “At least try when somebody’s around.  Please,”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” You put your hand on the side of his face, smiling gently at his worried complexion.  “Did you tell the kids?”

Lay catches my gaze and quickly looks away, not answering.

“You did, didn’t you,” You sigh and let your hand drop to the bed, glad that you don’t have to hold it up longer.  It gets heavier the longer you lift it up. 

“I’m so—“

“Noona!”

Your head looks towards the door to your hospital room and see Kyungwoo in his messy, crumpled, school uniform, out of breath with a look of panic in his eyes. 

“Kyungwoo-ah,” You smile at him. 

“Don’t ‘Kyungwoo-ah’ and smile at me,” He sits by the other side of your bed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.  “I told you not to push yourself,”

“But I’m the noona, aren’t I,” You laugh lightly.  “I’m okay, really,” You take his hand and grip it reassuringly, the action requiring more energy than it usually does.  Come on, hand.

“Stop plastering that smile on your face,” Someone from the door comes in to say. 

“Yumi,” You call out in surprise.

“Unnie, you’re not okay.  Okay is Kyungwoo, okay is me, okay is Lay-oppa.  You’re sick and it’s really bad so don’t smile when you don’t have to.  Please.  And don’t try to lie to us saying that you’re all okay because I don’t exactly know what, but I know that you’re not.  That something is really wrong with your body,” She runs a frustrated hand through her hair and looks out the window.

She’s a junior high school student.  your little sister.  She just said all the things you, yourself, know completely.  All you do is trouble people.  Lay, the person you love and hold so dearly close in your heart, has to skip school and has to miss out on meeting his friends just because his paralyzed girlfriend hit her head on a stupid cupboard.  He has to pay for your hospital fees, afterwards.  What kind of girlfriend are you? Kyungwoo and Yumi, your siblings, has to go through all the trouble of worrying about you, rushing around to see you in the hospital bed, weak and so sick.  You are sick.  Of yourself.  So helpless.  Brain not even working properly, legs that can’t be used, and now; hands that are heavy to even lift up.  You think you don’t know that I’m not okay? Hell, I know damn well.  “Sorry,” You quietly say.

But all the smiles, all the laughs, all the grins and all the positive attitude you put up is something you can at least hold on to.  Something that rids yourself of the fear and consciousness of being very sick.  Pathetic, but it becomes a thought that makes you believe in the hope of feeling completely well, although you know you truly won’t.

Uncomfortable silence settled around the room before Yumi turns to face you and says with a thin smile.  “No, I’m sorry, unnie,” She shakes her head as a flicker of guilt crosses her eyes.  She settles down on the room’s couch and silence once again comes, nobody having  anything to say.

As the day passes, Kyungwoo decides to go home with Yumi, remembering that you left the house empty.  Kai went with them to grab your clothes, and came back, deciding to leave afterwards in order to let you and Lay rest for the day.  Lay, decides to stay in the hospital with you.  “Don’t want to let you out of my sight,” He said, with that handsome smirk you fell for.

It was late at night and you’re itching to get off of this stupid bed.  “Hey, Lay-ah,” You call out.  “Can you help me get off? I want to go to the veranda,”

“Yah,  you do know that you’re sick and it’s cold, don’t you?” He frowns, but in contradiction takes your hand gently.

“Mm,” You grin as he helps you onto your wheelchair and pushes you out to the veranda, the cold wind seeping through your skin.

Immediately, you feel a lot warmer due to the fact that Lay just shed his own jacket and draped it across your shoulders.  “Aren’t you—“

“No, I’m not,” He chuckles, messing up your hair.

You smile as you look out of the veranda, taking up the city lights with your eyes.  You don’t get these kinds of views often when you’re at home.  Maybe Lay does, he lives in a pretty apartment, but you don’t.  Oh, how you wish Kyungwoo and Yumi could see this.  They’ll be as happy as little kids.  So as much as you can, you swallow everything altogether, breathing in the wind, wrapping Lay’s jacket around yourself tighter, running your eyes through the buildings and all, and simply sigh in content because of your presence in this veranda, along with Lay beside you.  A hospital might have its negative points, but there are perks, too.

As you come back into the room, Lay helps you back up onto the bed and kisses your forehead goodnight, letting his eyes linger on yours for a second.  He brushes his thumb lightly over your lower lip and lets his eyes travel onto your lips.

“Hm?” You smirk playfully at him and sit up just a little bit, pecking his lips.

“Hey, I was gonna do that,” He chuckles and caresses the side of your face.  “Goodnight, jagiya,” He says as he lays down on the sofa, pulling his blanket over his shoulders.

“Goodnight,” You smile at him.  “Sleep well,”

And then comes the sleepless night.

You wait, and wait, and wait.  Until you notice that Lay’s breathing has turned calm and quiet, like how he is when he’s asleep. 

You stare at the ceiling and begin sorting out your thoughts. 

First, the hospital fee.  You have to talk about that with Lay later on.  Can’t actually predict anything because Lay comes up with arguments you can’t even think of.

Then, about school.  Kai, you hope he’ll help you get the assignments. 

Kyungwoo and Yumi.  Gotta tell them to not skip school just to come visit you.

Work.  Your laptop can be brought into the room and the hospital (gladly) has wi-fi too, so no problem there.

You don’t want to stay for long, anyways.  If Lay is really paying and if you can’t get out of it, then no longer than 3 days.  You know how expensive the hospital fee is and as rich as Lay is, you still don’t want him to spend too much on you.

The surgery. 

The word itself gives you a bad feeling.  You had this really strong opposition of getting operated on, getting a surgery on you brain.  You know the ratios of success can be 50:50, but still, wanting to get a surgery never even crossed your mind, somehow.  You weren’t scared, but you were sure that you didn’t want to get one.  The churning feeling in your stomach whenever it’s mentioned always makes you restless.  It’s as if someone’s telling you not to.  But you don’t know why; either it’s because if you get a surgery you’ll die, or you are supposed to die, or even if you did, something will go terribly wrong that your life on Earth will be the same as being dead.

It’s at times like these when being paralyzed truly kills you.  You clutch at the pants of your hospital pair of clothes and grit your teeth, cursing in your head for that accident that fell upon you, ultimately, 5 years ago.  What does fate want with you? Is it playing with you? Now they want to take your hands away? Why? Are you not doing enough good with it? You’ve lost your feet and now are you supposed to lose your hands too and become something that can only talk?

You quietly swallow the lump in your throat as the tears streamed down your eyes to the sides of your head.  You don’t hate life.  There are far too many beautiful things around you, too many nice, kind-hearted people that care for you, too many people you don’t want to let go of, but sometimes, you loathe how you can never again enjoy it to the fullest. 

You silently sob, lifting you hand, the one without the infuse needles and everything else in it to wipe your own tears away and grit my teeth so that I don’t make to much noise, so that Lay does not wake up only to see you cry and worry more. 

“Don’t take my hands away, please,” I whisper quietly to no one in particular as I realized the heaviness in moving my hands. 

As you were still crying, you don’t notice the strange silence that has fallen upon my room.  When you do, you take your hand heavily away from your eyes and glance at the watch and see; that it isn’t ticking.

Your  hand doesn’t have needles in it, and your legs.

You can move them.

Your hands aren’t heavy anymore.

You can get up lightly, without any effort.

And as you do, my eyes meet another pair, grey ones, staring back at you with an expression you can’t read.

“We have to,”