Cracked lips, aching bones, throbbing head and mask pressed over my mouth and nose, I sat on the bed, using the cold metal bed rails as support. I ignored the pain on my ribs hauled myself into a sitting position. Here comes the question I’ve been waiting for him to ask since the moment he entered this room.

“What do you want?” said Minho, sounding resigned.

“I want—” I was cut off by the door opening, revealing a nurse wearing white from head to toe with hair fixed in a tight bun and holding a silver tray of medicines and a glass of water.  She had ginger brown hair, slightly tanned skin and an average height.

She gave me a motherly smile—a smile that I never get to see from my mother—that showed some lines at the side of her eyes and walked toward me. “Good morning. I’ll be giving you your medicines, Miss.”   It seemed to me that she's already in her forties and leads a normal life with a loving family that waits for her at home. After placing the silver tray on the table cabinet beside the bed, she handed me a medicine capsule and a glass of water. “Here, please take this and it’ll make you feel much better.” 

“Thanks.” I removed the mask and drank the while she replaced the dextrose which hangs on a metal rod. Sliding the door quietly, she left after I finished drinking the medicine.

“Right. I want y—” I was about to continue what I was saying before the nurse interrupted me but, the view of a sleeping man sleeping soundly, surprised me. He looked calm and peaceful as he slept on the couch, his head resting on one of the pillows.

“Maybe later...” I thought aloud. Maybe, he’s not truly asleep just like in dramas and movies. I placed the mask back on and grabbed my iPod—given by Jonghyun oppa—from inside the cabinet. Switching it to random, Severely of FTIsland played. I remembered that in the music video, Lee Hongki changed the past but he died instead just to save the girl.

What if I did time travel? Chuckling lightly at the silly thought, I raised the volume, closed my eyes and took a nap with earphones still plugged into my ears.

My forehead stung. “Ouch. What the— Yah!”  Using his finger, he flicked my forehead hard enough to wake me. I hissed at him with annoyance which made him chortle.

Amused and at the same time serious, he stood beside my bed. “Get up.” 

“No.” I shot back, still rubbing my forehead with my left hand.

“The doctor says you need to exercise those legs.” I pulled my earphones out—cutting off Give Love-AKMU in midsong—placed the iPod on top of the cabinet.

“Do you have a phone?” With a bit of hesitation, he unlocked his phone and handed it to me. I tapped on the camera and looked at my face on the screen. No. Way. How can I date Lee Minho if I have a gash on my face?! How can I marry him if I have scars on my face?! I whimpered.

“You’re impossible. You’re not his type.” Nonchalantly, he said.

“Huh? You read my mind?” Baffled, I looked at him with parted lips and wide eyes.  

“Tch. You thought out loud, crazy girl.” He bantered.

“Whatever, help me up.” Carefully placing my left arm around his shoulder, he helped me up