“Tell me what?” I ask, dark dread flooding through me, “Did something happen? Is Yong Hwa OK?”

“He’s fine, don’t worry,” Se Young says, taking my hands in hers. “He’s been discharged, actually. I thought someone would have told you.”

“...Discharged?” I repeat. I pull my hands from Se Young’s and rush down the hall to Yong Hwa’s room. I yank open the door and lurch inside, hoping to see his caddish, smiling face before me. But instead, I only see a perfectly made bed sitting in the middle of a pristine room. There’s no evidence that Yong Hwa had ever even been here. I sink down into the bedside chair and stare blankly at the place where he lay just hours before. He must have been let out during the day shift. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

I’m unreasonably disappointed by Yong Hwa’s sudden departure. Of course he’s been discharged, he was good to go once the bleeding had stopped and honestly he could have gone home yesterday. It’s not like he was ever going to be a part of my life beyond our few days of knowing each other.

I don’t know why I let myself dabble in fantasies of being Jung Yong Hwa’s friend...or God forbid something more. I’m sure that whatever chemistry I felt with him was just his natural charm working me over. He probably took on sparring buddies like me wherever he went.

I suddenly felt embarrassed by my little crush. At first, I thought I’d be able to turn my nose up at Yong Hwa, and write him off as an man-child. But in the short time I’d known him, I felt like I’d gotten through to him on some deeper level. For a tiny sliver of a moment, it felt as though we’d connected. Am I totally crazy? Does everyone who talks to Yong Hwa for more than a minute have the same feeling? Probably that’s it. He’s a celebrity, after all. I’m sure that all kinds of people tend to fall into his orbit.

Still, I’m remarkably sad to see him go. I feel his absence like a physical loss. Even if he won’t remember me a week from now, I feel like I’m missing out on something now that he’s gone. I must have a screw loose, or something.

Se Young comes rushing into the room after me, starting at me from the doorway. There’s a look of troubled concern on her face, and I watch as comprehension begins to dawn. “Oh, Shin Hye...” she says.

“Yeah,” I shrug, trying to laugh away the disappointment.

“You got attached, didn’t you?” she asks.

“I suppose I did, a little,” I say.

“Well, we all have favorites from time to time, don’t we?” she says helpfully.

I nod, forcing a smile onto my face. I have a long shift ahead of me, after all. It’s not like I can just pick up, go home, and mope for a while. I have a job to do. I pick myself up off Yong Hwa’s abandoned hospital bed, and give it one more long look. I can practically hear his laugher echoing off the walls when I listen closely enough, see his cunning, handsome face against the stiff white pillow. I shake my head, trying to scatter the memories of him from my mind, but they don’t want to budge. I’m almost alarmed by how strongly I’m reacting to his absence. We only spent two days together, after all, it’s not like I’m losing the love of my life, here.

Se Young and I walk back out into the ER, assuming our posts once more. I put on my best airs of being collected and calm, hoping that if I fake it long enough, it will just start to be true. Se Young’s monitoring me, I can tell—trying to gage what’s going on in my head.

“I guess he’ll get to play that show tomorrow night now, huh?” she says.

“Who?” I ask dumbly.

“Oh, come on,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You know who. Wasn’t there some concert that he wanted to play?”

“Oh. Right,” I say, “I think I remember him talking about that.”

Of course I remember him talking about it. He’d nagged me about it the entire time he was here. I’m happy for him, that he gets to play the show like he had so badly wanted. But part of me wishes, selfishly, that he was still here with me. How messed up is that—a nurse wishing for someone to get worse rather than heal? I’m glad that no one can read my thoughts right now. That certainly wouldn’t go over well with the doctors.

“You should go see it,” Se Young said suddenly.

“The concert?” I ask. “No...I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Se Young demands.

“Can you see me at a rock concert?” I ask, “They’d all think I was a narc or something.”

“You’d be fine. We could dress you up like a dirty hippie and send you on your way,” Se Young says, bopping up and down on the balls of her feet.

“I’m sure it’s sold out anyway,” I remind her.

“He’d make an exception for you,” she smiles.

“You’re delusional,” I tell her, smiling back.

“Takes one to know one,” she says.

Our attention is grabbed away by a newly admitted patient, and from that moment on the shift starts to fly by. One emergency after the other comes our way, and for a while I’m almost able to forget about Jung Yong Hwa. Almost. But even as I’m in the thick of the job, I can feel him in the back of my mind, waiting for me to pay attention again. How long is this going to go on, anyway? I do my best to block out thoughts of my rock star and do my job. The effort of it all makes the hours zoom past.

I finally hand off my patients to the nurse coming in to relieve me. It’s Mi Rae, once again, the woman who took care of Yong Hwa during the days while he was here. I run through my notes on autopilot. As she turns away from me, I can’t help myself from calling after her.

“It sure will be quiet around here without our favorite patient, huh?” I say.

“Favorite patient?” she asks, not comprehending. Mi Rae’s never been one for humor. Or figurative language.

“Jung Yong Hwa,” I prompt.

“Oh,” she says, “Of course. Yes, it will certainly be quieter. And more peaceful.”

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