Silvers of sunlight streamed through the window in the corner of the room. Warm rays of light caressed the propped-up figure on the bed, lost in a sea of blankets. It accented his pale face, bathing it in a serene beam of light. His lips upturned in a placid smile. 

The sunlight cast over the translucent tubes; one into his wrist, and another to his nose one for oxygen, whereas the other fed chemicals to his bloodstream. However, the sunlight missed yet another tube. One that ran underneath the light blue blanket, leading to a transparent tank, one filled with tea-colored urine. 

On the other side of the room, there sat another figure. Ears deafened by the rhythmically humming of the machine. Light brown eyes, staring into oblivion, staring into the vast nothing.

Outside, over the sterilized, white walls of the hospital, life was going on. The hustle and bustle of the city continued while inside the room on ward 501, life was at a standstill. 

Kim Jongdae shivered in the icy coldness of the hospital room. He despised hospitals.

 They reeked of death and decay, cold and lifeless. The shadow of death is lurking in the hallways; forever ready, always waiting. Waiting to strike, waiting to steal from the innocent. 

From deep within bed, deep, brown eyes slowly fluttered open, allowing the light to enter. He squinted as he slowly came to. From the bed, a hoarse voice with a thick accent croaked out,

 “Chen… you there?”

 Jongdae’s ears immediately perked up at the sound, and he quickly scrambled over to the bedside him.

 “Hey Yixing, I’m here.”