captain’s log / 141225 Christmas Day.

When Hanbin wakes up, the only thing he remembers is the boy’s shoulders and the familiarity, which lay in the repeated dream. He had once again plunged into the world of his reveries by night, finding himself walking gingerly through a garden. It’s lively, and he honestly misses such environments after being left to fend for himself in the hospital – he misses being able to explore nature along with his sister, and above all; he misses being free. Free form his nightmares, free from being cooped up in the air-conditioned room filled with air freshener, free from reality, perhaps. He walks down the pavement as usual, crimson boots against gravel and he sees the same boy sitting on the bench; a butterfly lies quietly on his shoulder and his father stands forlorn at a distance, his back towards him. Hanbin can only cringe and rub his eyes before moving forward, anticipating the fall – and that’s what he gets. Yet the boy turns slightly as he feels the floor give way, and he captures his side profile. And this is the other image, which he can recall vividly when he regains consciousness. He gasps for air – and he’s met with his doctor’s worried gaze when he opens his eyes once again.

“That was a huge response,” His doctor says as the end of his lips curl slightly to form a smile tinted with worry, “Another nightmare?” Jinhwan then proceeds to pat Hanbin’s back lightly and sat down on the chair next to him.

“The same old, but with progress.”

“Progress?” Jinhwan’s eyes light up a little as he pries the clipboard from his chest and sets it down on his lap to scribble things down once again.

“The boy- I think I saw his side profile.” Hanbin is still panting, and he hasn’t gotten himself back together. It was appalling, how the glimpse of the boy’s side profile left such an unpleasant aftertaste. He had never woken up with such a huge response to this nightmare and it befuddles him that he felt something new – as though he was frustrated, as though he was met with an obstacle but he wasn’t able to circumvent in time and he had to start from scratch. He sighs and runs his trembling hand through his hair before leaning against the bed frame, limp. Jinhwan shuffles awkwardly on the spot, and on his face hangs an expression of worry.

“Well I guess I shan’t disturb you further for now but,” Jinhwan fumbles with his clipboard for a few minutes, undoing the clip to get a sheet of paper out, “Here, Merry Christmas.” A Christmas card emerges and with his hand outstretched, he brings the card up to Hanbin’s line of vision and waves it around playfully. As Hanbin’s lips twitch into a mild grin, Jinhwan feels much lighter and smiles brightly. It wasn’t common that he gave patients cards like these, but he felt an obligation to put in the extra effort for Hanbin; perhaps it was because of his advice the day before when they both had sleepless nights, or it could’ve been because of the prolonged period of interaction. He bites his lower lip and finds himself tip-toeing and relaxing repeatedly as Hanbin runs his fingers over the glittery cover of the Christmas card and eventually lets his finger rest on the corner before opening it. For a second Jinhwan feels like hiding behind a pillar, or covering his face with the clipboard – watching his patient of nearly a year read a card he had written felt awkward, for some reason. He squints at his messy handwriting, which donned the light brown paper and cringes, blaming himself for writing it in such a hurry. Whilst watching the younger boy read the lines of embarrassing messages that he had prepared the night before, Jinhwan can’t help but yearn for Hanbin to get better soon. It was true that he did show improvement over the period of eleven months – he had gotten more comfortable around him, and he spoke more; he didn’t spend sleepless nights writing anymore and had his fair share of rest, occasionally plagued with nightmares. The frequency of troubled looks and furrowed eyebrows decreased, yet Hanbin was still tied down by something; things which he wasn’t able to figure out. Jinhwan then understands that what he truly wants is for this boy to be able to lead a normal life like his equals could, to be free of this chronic fear of being judged for the problems he was facing, to be free from reality – but he wasn’t ready to let him leave the hospital, as selfish as it sounded, for reasons which he couldn’t grasp. He frowns slightly and smoothens the hair on the back of his head before shaking his head and turns to Hanbin who’s by now, done with reading the contents of his highly embarrassing letter and currently gazing in his direction. Jinhwan flinches and blinks awkwardly, gaining laughter from the younger boy.

“That was probably the funniest thing I’ve read by far.”

Jinhwan can only think of how genuine and warm his laughter was.

“Was it really,” Jinhwan starts, “I spent a large amount of time on that one, don’t judge.”

“I’m not judging, in fact I really appreciate your effort and all,” His smile remains, and Jinhwan feels vibrancy in the tone of his voice, “Thank you, and Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Merry Christmas,” Jinhwan smiles and nods lightly, “Glad you like it. Well I guess its time for rest then, I’ll get going and come by later.” He then turns to leave and as he tilts his head towards his right, Hanbin pauses. As the doctor’s small frame turns round the corner and disappears from Hanbin’s line of vision, he places the card on the bedside table and reaches for his book on the bedside table. He keeps his mind clear and focuses on the image from his dream earlier that morning and lets his hands run – he’s reconstructing the image and he spends an hour doing so with his mind blank as the sheet of canvas on his lap. The sound of the pencil rubbing against the surface of the paper is somewhat therapeutic and he frowns, scratching against his monochrome memories of his dream that night in attempt to grasp the only clue, which he had to point him towards the boy’s identity. He was sure that perhaps being aware of his identity would help in his recovery – it’d help him regain freedom, and in that moment, freedom means the world to him. An hour goes by and he comes to a sudden halt, his head throbbing as a result of his fervent attempts to keep his mind empty. He stares at the portrait and runs his finger over it, smudging the pencil marks slightly. A few seconds pass by, and he lets out a soft chuckle before turning towards the Christmas card on the bedside table.

“So it’s you.” He mutters and closes the book with a thud yet he couldn’t draw the lines between the correct dots; he doesn’t understand the entire coincidence involved in this discovery. He doesn’t understand the presence of Jinhwan in his dreams doubled up with the peculiar peach hue of the line that connected them both. He stares at the ground and eyes the purple line connecting him and the nurse standing in the corner of the room as she moves over silently with his lunch on a tray and ignores her as she speaks. She frowns and leaves the food on the table before leaving, and he doesn’t shift his gaze until the purple line dissociates once she leaves the room. He doesn’t understand any of these things and what they mean – and he recalls his wishes the night before; for Jinhwan to be a permanent source of solace, to be a steady flow of warmth and ataraxia. He’s largely reliant on Jinhwan and for the first time he finds flaws in the older boy’s reliability – for a second he wishes that perhaps he wasn’t always there when he needed help, but remembers that it was merely part of the boy’s responsibility. A deep frown forms on his forehead, and his migraine returns. Hanbin lets himself drift to sleep once again with the sketch tightly latched in his grip. He’s finally got the answer he wants ; the meaning behind his peach hues, yet he isn’t satisfied – he isn’t sure if this is the answer he was longing for. 

-

Jinhwan leans over his desk and flips through the information sheet in search of Hanbin’s family contacts. He then frowns at the empty spots under his parents’ personal contact numbers and only finds their home number written with light, faded blue ink. Slowly, he makes the numbers out and fishes his phone out from his pocket. Holding the phone against his right ear, he twirls his pen with the other hand. A minute passes before he gets a response on the other end.

“Hello?” A female speaks in an impatient tone on the other end and Jinhwan flinches. Her voice is slightly muffled and he hears a small girl squealing in the background, along with the sound of plastic against marble. He snaps his finger lightly because he’s gotten the right number, guessing from the fact that Hanbin had a younger sister.

“Hello. I’m Dr Kim Jinhwan from the hospital, is this Hanbin’s mother, Mrs Kim?”

“Yes?” She stammers a little.

“I apologise for prying into your family affairs, but will you be coming to visit your son anytime soon? Its Christmas and I thought it’d be great for him to spend time with his family. He’s been making great improvement but having support from his closest of kin would act as a great catalyst for this process.” Jinhwan speaks slowly, fighting against the interferences in the line.

“I-” Mrs Kim starts as a crash is heard from behind her and she squeals softly, startled, “I’m sorry but I don’t think that I’ll be able to drop by soon. I’ll call again another time to explain, I have things to attend to I’m sorry. But thank you for calling.”

She puts the phone down and Jinhwan only hears beeps from the other end of the line. Sighing, he lets his phone fall onto the table with a thud and pushes himself off his swirling chair. Grabbing his coat from the coatstand, he leaves his office and turns towards his patient’s room. 

AN: haha since I ended up updating after Christmas, I decided to extend it to New Year's Day!
I'm getting more time to write, so I'll finish the story on New Year's Day.
ily all for sticking around and for the support + lovely comments.
Thanks for sticking around and I'm glad that you guys enjoy the story!