He'd walked down the halls endless of times, practically memorized every nook and cranny there was. He had talked to his Aunt's neighbours, spend a couple of minutes with them just to be a good nephew. He had even helped the nurses change bedsheets and helped the heavier patients into their wheelchairs when the nurses weren't strong enough.

But there was one room, just one, that felt different from the rest. Maybe it was because the door was always closed? Or maybe because no one ever went in? At any rate, he had never set foot it in. He asked around, but no patient seemed to know why that room gave everyone the jitters. Some said it was haunted (hah, likely), others said it was the AC (plausible, since he sometimes wondered how the patients didn't get pneumonia), and then there were others that just stated he was crazy.

Yeah, he probably agreed with the last bunch.

I mean, what's so unnerving about a hospital room? What could possibly be in there that could drive so much unease into someone's heart?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was late, near supper-time, when the boy thought it a smart idea to bug his Aunt. Might have to keep the tissue box out of reach this time though.... He thought as he rubbed his shoulder where the rectangular box had hit him last time. He walked down the familiar hallways and greeted familiar faces, “Good afternoon Ms Briggs!” The woman smiled, “Hello Minho, are you drinking your milk?” He wrinkled his nose, “You know I hate milk.”

      Thwak

“OW!” Minho rubbed his forehead where he got flicked. “Baby.” He nurse shook her head. “Milk gives you strong bones!” Minho simply pouted. “M' not a kid anymore...” Which only got him a scoff and another smile from the middle aged woman. “Go and see your Aunt now, Minho.” Minho stuck his tongue out childishly and jogged away, laughing off the yells of 'no running in the halls'. Rules are meant to be broken.

The tall boy's feet slowly trudged to a stop once in his Aunt's wing. (hospital term, in means section) He rubbed his arms at the sudden chill, passing it for the hospital's stupid AC and looked up at the door number he unconsciously stopped at. 203? He frowned. This isn't Auntie's door... heck, this isn't even her hall. He was about to shrug it off and keep walking when a weird sensation dragged at his chest. It was like someone had a firm hold on his heart, and tugged it towards the door.

He stared at the fading numbers for a long moment. Hold on. This was it. This was the door that gave him goose bumps. This was the door that made everyone feel odd every time they passed. He looked around. It won't hurt to peek... right? Finally get some answers? He reached for the doorknob, but found himself hesitating. Come on Minho, He lectured himself, it's only a room, nothing to be afraid of. There's most likely nobody even in here. Just grab the handle, twist, and push. Simple.

But even with the pep talk, something was still off. He could sense something in there, as crazy as it sounds, and the tightness in his chest only got worse as he spent more time thinking about it. He shut his eyes, the numbers only began to burn behind his lids.

203

2

203

0

203

3

203

Minho shook his head, cursing himself mentally for his foolish behaviour. Grumbling, he his heel and marched down the hall. Away from that room. His eyes followed the numbers on the doors grow larger. 208, 210, 212, 214, 216, 218, 203, 222-

       Hold on.

Minho backtracked. 216, 218, 220, 222. Why did he see 203 just now? Minho shook his head. Got hit in the head with the soccer ball during practice, must still be wonky... He rubbed his chest and kept walking. The tugging only got stronger the more he walked down the hall. The brunet shook his head, and sped up. Enough with this. Aunty's waiting.

The conversation was vague. Minho couldn't remember a single specific thing his relative said when he set foot out that door. Something about a dog, keys.... and soccer? There was a nagging at the back of his mind the entire time he poked and prodded at his Aunt. No matter how much they joked, and no matter how long they laughed, he couldn't get Room 203 out of his mind.

Minho walked aimlessly out of the hospital and to his car while curiosity was eating away at him. Why was this room so important? Why did it bug him so much? He fished out his Ipod and turned up some music for distraction. Failure. He tried counting how many stop signs there were on the way home. Failure. (nearly ended up driving into one at some point) He even tried rapping! Sure it sounded cool, but it took too much concentration away from driving- don't need to end up being his Aunt's roommate.

The more time he spent away from the hospital, the more curious and restless he became. 'Curiosity killed the cat!' His mother would always tell him. 'No, finding out what an electric fence does, killed the cat.' was his response. He was naturally a curious person, and the room had always bothered him, but for some reason he couldn't take it anymore. That last visit did him in. He became restless. Every day tasks frustrated him, plus the fact he couldn't sleep. Some days he would get so frustrated he found himself drinking at a bar at 2 am. Not a smart thing when you're pissed in more ways than one. Needless to say he can't remember who he got the bruised jaw from.

This was stupid, it had to end. Next time I go, Minho decided, I'm going to find out what's behind that door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Minho walked down to the forsaken door. He looked up at the intimidating numbers that have plagued his dreams for weeks and took a deep breath. “This is it, Minho. You've been preparing yourself a long time for this moment.”

       . . .

Note to self; Pep talks don't do . He was probably staring at the old wood for half an hour before he could properly pick up his balls from the floor.

       “3...”

He took the handle.

       “2...”

He squeezed the cool metal, biting his lip anxiously.

       “1.”

He shoved the door open and stepped inside.

He was first greeted by a wave of cool air hitting him in the face. He shivered and rubbed his eyes, finding next that it was pitch black. The lights weren't on. Minho took a hesitant step forward, and jumped when the door slid closed behind him. Nice atmosphere... He squinted around the dark, trying to make out any shape or form. His heart pounded, the thumps loud as drums in his ears. With a shaky hand, the brunet reached out for the light switch, and cursed when he couldn't find it. Great, what'm I going to do now? It was dead silent, sole for the faint beeping in the back. No need to panic, so what if you're not alone in a dark, ominous hospital room? It's not like you're locked in, right? He grabbed the handle and jerked it.

       .

Minho quickly looked over his shoulder. By now his eyes had adjusted more to the darkness, and unfortunately caught a figure lying down next to a monitor. Okay, don't panic. Minho contemplated yelling for help, but his pride (secretly hiding in the corner) said otherwise. Being stuck in a hospital dorm wouldn't scare Choi Minho. No no, he wasn't scared. He had a tiring soccer practice, that's why his heart was beating 60 mph. Choi Minho was brave! That's why his feet were moving towards the creature hooked up to a heart monit- wait, what?

       He froze.

What was he doing? Some of the patients at the hospital could be dangerous when disturbed! While mentally slapping himself, he tried to back away from the thing. But curiosity is a stupid thing, isn't it? So, Minho figured he'd try to catch a decent look at his soon-to-be murderer to know who to haunt in the after-life. Without moving, the brunet looked over the outlines before him. He could definitely make out someone laying down, the only sign of life was the rhythmic beeping of the monitor and the barely noticeable rise and fall of it's chest. It was probably sleeping, since it hadn't acknowledged Minho in any way by now.

But if it had slept through Minho's entrance, then it should sleep through Minho's exit. Right? The tall boy turned around as slowly as he could, desperately trying not to awaken the figure. He stopped. Was that a lamp? Minho turned his head back to check. Yep, it was. He instinctively reached over, No more stumbling in the dark! What was that about trying not to wake the beast? Yeah, that all went through the window.

With a familiar 'click' light filled the room, illuminating the bed. Realizing his mistake, he dashed for the door and grabbed the handle quickly. Still locked. Minho spun around and bowed low, “I'm sorry! I didn't know someone was in here, my mistake! It won't happen again!” He shut his eyes tight, preparing himself for a scolding. Nothing happened. Minho slowly looked up, confused as to why some old man wasn't pulling his ear. He found that the person on the bed had actually never gotten up. Surely if the light hadn't woken him, Minho's apologetic ramblings should have. Probably going to regret it, Minho tip-toed to the bed.

Lying perfectly still, was a young boy. He looked around Minho's age, maybe younger. The elder examined his face. The guy had pale skin, probably from not being outside a lot, and- well, Minho thinks it's a guy. The hair kind of confused him. It was long, with bronze bangs seeming to gently caress his face. His skin seemed so smooth, it practically begged to be touched. Gosh, I sound like a pedo...

He brushed his hand along the boy's jaw without a second thought. Fingertips gliding along the perfect skin in awe. The boy looked so delicate, fragile even. Minho suddenly felt the need to be careful, as if one wrong move would break him. He didn't move the entire time Minho brushed his hand long his features, his face stayed the same. Kind of... serene, actually. As if nothing there wasn't a trouble in the world.

Man... he looks like he got the best blow-job on earth.

What? I never said Choi Minho was mature.