Give me sweet cyanide and calm my poisoned soul.

He glanced at the assigned tray, taking in the white Febreezed sheets neatly folded into perfect squares.

“Jongdae, it’s your first day so just follow the instructions. If you need help, do ask. I trust that you’ll be fine.” A nod and the figure in blue receded into the distance. It seemed that was all the assistance that would be provided.

Grip tightening around the handle, he rolled the tray away, taking in the scent of disinfectant that permeated the air, rising off the pastel pink walls. But admittedly, the pastel pink was infectious, catching memories of carefree laughter as children of four and five ran around in a simple game of tag. Jongdae laughed as a short, rolling ball of cyan blue brushed past in a fit of giggles that brought upon a frown from heavily wrinkled skin. The elderly nurse trailing the tiny tempest simply clicked his tongue in muted disapproval.

“Little devils they are. But, oh, how can you bring yourself to scold them?”

He chuckled lightly, feeling himself nod in agreement as his fingers restlessly twisted the handle. With the appropriate politeness and a slight bow, he excused himself from the nurse. A quick check on his schedule indicated his allocation. A right turn it would be then.

His eyes met with uniform cream wallpapers, grey linoleum tapering off into an unknown corner some distance away. The corridors were traced with silent whispers and quiet silhouettes bowed in wait. In fact, the echoing squeak of trainers against the flooring seemed pathetically solitary to Jongdae's ears.

But it was more than just a simple absence of sound. It was an uncomfortable silence, full of confusing emptiness from the numbers and letters flowing over his head. The passing glimpses only revealed uniform metal frames devoid of people within. It was quiet… too quiet. The soft whistling forced past Jongdae’s lips was inadvertent yet necessary as the embossed labels were ticked off his head.

R-312, R-313, R-314.

There.

R-315.

Resting at the top of the clean sheets was a file encasing small printed script. Random combinations of numbers and letters were matched with a faceless name, an enigma of letters that had Jongdae wondering. A cursory glance revealed that R-315 was paired to five letters. Lu Han.

There was little to be deciphered from two syllables.

There was a slight hesitation in the way his feet landed and a slight hitch in the rolling of the tray’s wheels as his first step in was taken. 3 beds arranged in a row presented themselves first, empty, forlorn and detached. At the very corner of the room however, the final frame cradled a lone occupant amidst a pool of sheets. Jongdae could make out little more than the gentle rise and fall of the patient’s cheeks coloured by stray shadows shading his profile. As it was, the boy was propped against the wall with a pronounced hunch, chin rested between folded arms on the windowsill.

Your first day is simple. Get to know the patient and finish the odd jobs needed.

As instructed, his hands reached for the clean sheets. They were white like the boy’s eggshell complexion he noted.

His eyes didn’t leave the figure, the first few steps he took forward shaky. It seemed wrong somehow to interrupt the boy’s focused gaze that clearly stretched beyond the tree before him. Suffice to say, his throat had closed in on itself, requiring him to lightly clear it as a means of a stilted introduction. What met him instead were warm brown orbs set in bone china. It was disconcerting, the way the boy seemed to be porcelain perfection, cracks glazed over by paint.

“Hello, are you the new nurse?” The words were a gentle probe, coloured by honest curiosity.

Jongdae blinked once, twice, smile unfaltering. He became acutely aware of the seconds that had passed between the question and his due reply. Even so, the boy’s gaze hadn’t drifted away from him. It was a look that took him by the shoulders gently and wound his thoughts too tightly to bother unpicking. So he did what he had been advised to. He bowed slightly and the unrehearsed words slipped past his lips with a taste foreign to his tongue, not in a bad way, just new.

“Hello. I’m Jongdae and you’re right, I’ll be your personal attendant from now on. I’m only interning so I hope you don’t mind.”

He looked up, strangely expectant with a slight tremor in his heartbeat as he traced the unchanged expression of the boy before him. Maybe it was the conviction that had grabbed at his thoughts, of being a life-changer as the books said they would be. Maybe it was the false hope planted in him by the multitude of job advertisements and encouraging videos aired every hour on TV.

Whatever it was that had tinted his vision with yellow hope, the only reply he received was a singular nod that formed a startling crack in those bright yellow lenses. Jongdae followed the stray strands of hair falling forward. It was the wind, tugging at anything that had yet to be tied down as it invited itself in through the open window. The drifting strands were wayward unlike the gaze of the boy and the small lips pulled up in a quiet smile. The words that followed were whispered, lilting with a soft ring at the end of his sentence.

“Yes, I was told. Thank you.”

His lips closed softly, eyes turned down once more. Almost, Jongdae almost leaned forward to shut the open window. He should try to keep out the wind, try to keep out the inescapable chill in the room since the boy might fall ill even further. But he found his tense arms retracting when he noticed that the boy had shifted slightly, chin propped up by the palm of his hand against the windowsill. It seemed that the wind had reeled those glossy, amber eyes back to the clear, grey sky beyond.

Jongdae forced his feet into silent steps peddling backwards, thoughts abandoning the sheets still held between his fingers. Numbly, his hands returned them to the tray, white, starched stiff and unused. He wheeled the tray out quietly but not without noticing warm, brown eyes flickering to a handwritten note on faint yellow paper pressed between thin fingers before returning to the bleak, grey skies, slowly dulling and turning cold.

---

“Oh good afternoon. I suppose you’re taking my afternoon shifts?”

The boy had shifted, head turned to the side to regard Jongdae with polite attention. Wait, no, not the boy. Lu Han. Jongdae’s tongue rolled over the syllables with familiarity, sounds practiced and repeated amidst the intermittent chirps of crickets as accompaniment.

“I am. Since I’ve been indefinitely paired with you for the time being, we should probably introduce each other. We have a good three hours to go.” He wasn’t even aware of the haphazard words that had been strung together on impulse. His ears were only concerned with the tinkling sound that was coming from the boy as he completed his statement.

“Yes, you’re right. So tell me about yourself, nurse Jongdae.”

About himself? Suddenly, he floundered for an answer with his own question thrown back at him. He had been under the impression that this would be a chance to peer beneath Lu Han’s carefully maintained features, the occasional smiles and perfectly timed laughter that he was having trouble deciphering. This wasn’t supposed to be about reading the script written across his own hands.

Unsurprisingly, it seemed he had left the translation back home as he blinked at his palms, lost.

He looked up, meeting the boy's expectant amber and a gentle smile that made the desire for a more noteworthy event in his life seem all the more important. Almost apologetically, he responded, thoughts pausing over the relevance of certain details and backtracking to slip in additional .

“What’s there to me. That’s a good question, since I came up with it. I have a mother and father living in downtown Seoul. My sister is happily settled as an architect in some famous company. I have a really useless best friend who goes by Baekhyun. We went to med school together. I’m 23 right now and I really like ramyun.”

He paused and raised his head hesitantly with his fingers twisting nervously. He knew Was it good enough? was the question drumming incessantly against his thoughts but found nothing in the glossed amber eyes. He realised with a start that they had drifted back to the frosted window panes, a glinting rainbow beneath the afternoon light.

“Mhm... interesting. How was med school like? It must have been crazy right? Arts was. Well, at least while it lasted.”

And in the place of the quiet smiles and unassuming laughter of the stranger he had now paired with five letters, Jongdae picked up the pale veins flowing past empty. There were shadows ringing the boy’s eyes, highlighting blank spaces that had been filled with white walls and IV tubes in place of music sheets and lively chatter. With a sharp contrast, he noticed the paper thin skin, translucent against the grains of sand that hadn’t flowed through his hourglass even as time ticked by.

He didn’t have an answer, he realised. He never had to give it much thought. The awkwardness in his reply was palpable even as they rang in his own ears.

“Med school... it was hectic. All those textbook paragraphs and random projects, I’ve learned not to doubt the rumours. The arts faculty was the best though. The gardens and studios... you might be able to go back once you're discharged.” His words trailed off, almost subconsciously aware of the lack of response from the stiff sculpted features. Jongdae cringed at the sound that followed moments later, tinkling glass that resembled broken glass more so than the ring of clear, wind chimes.

“I could couldn't I, if I could sit up on my own for more than half an hour on my own without my heart giving way. But you’re right. You meet interesting people there. Memorable ones.”

“Jongdae-ah! The senior nurse needs you to run some checks on the new stocks of antibiotics that just arrived. Go and report to him would you?”

Lu Han looked up, smile pleasant once more and erased of the limp crookedness that had taken over it a few seconds prior.

“It seems you’re needed. Don’t worry, I won’t keel over. It was nice talking to you though so see you tomorrow.”

With that Jongdae had to take his leave, his attendance requested at the pharmacy by slow syllables garbled by missing teeth. The last Jongdae saw of the boy, Lu Han, was a thin figure staring into a phone screen fished out, the bare glimpses of a pair of bright smiles reflected in fissured, unseeing amber.

And although he had answered the boy’s questions, he found himself, late into the waning moon that night, scribbling away notes and flipping through albums of pixelated moments in search of something more than a cardboard cutout, the replaceable image that he had constructed and decided to name Jongdae.

---

The next two days, Jongdae spent among racks of medicine bottles and computers, away from the small talk and daily banter that filled the walkways and common areas.

Yet even then, he found the image of faded ceramic returning before him, polite smiles overlaid by the mirage of twin flashes of teeth and crescent moons trapped on a screen.

---

For their third meeting, Jongdae decided to continue their conversation from before. There was a particularly tart unpleasantness about questions left hanging in his opinion. Like his shoes placed on the wrong rack or the letters left on the couch instead of in the drawer. It didn’t sit well.

He entered the ward, the sliding of the ward door close startling the figure seated with a pen poised between his fingers. Yellow paper was gathered and set aside hastily and Jongdae made out tiny scribbles of carbon against paper, familiar rings and curves of notation. Before he could inquire further however, Lu Han swung around to face him, legs swinging languidly in sync with the placid smile that was now alight on his face.

“Good afternoon to you too. Come to check on me?”

“No, of course not, I came here to enjoy the silence. The hospital can get so noisy at times.” To this, Jongdae noticed the slight jutting of pale, cracked lips as Lu Han pouted in an almost child-like manner. For a moment, Jongdae saw beyond the carvings made from needles on china, that tightly drawn veil parting ever so slightly by the simple syllables that were slipping past in his words.

“‘This isn’t fair. I can’t tell whether you’re kidding or not. It doesn’t matter though, since I have company now.” Jongdae was fixed with a pointed glare that drew forth a sigh from him.

“I guess you’re right. Want to continue yesterday’s game? I already told you enough about myself so now it’s your turn.”

“You make me sound like a kid. Call me, hyung. I’m older remember? 25 years.” Lu Han had taken to waving his hands in exaggerated circles before him, eyes wide for emphasis. Jongdae supposed it was justified given that he himself was doing multiple retakes to match the 2 and the 5 with the small, sculpted features and frail figure before him.

“You’re 25? I mean... that’s kind of hard to believe.”

“Well Jongdae, the high and mighty, I’m a whole two years ahead of you so act with respect. You were telling me about your friend the other day weren’t you. Baekhyun I think? What’s he like?” Lu Han propped his chin against his palms, with the paradoxical countenance of dull eyes darting in impatience. The look had Jongdae squirming slightly at the obvious attempt to derail the original destination of their conversation. But one glance at the childish swinging of legs held the protests firmly against his tongue.

“What’s he like... He’s like the biggest pain you can find. Try having a 24/7 non-stop playlist of static next to you. I doubt even half the things he says makes sense. And how can I forget all the things that he’d gotten me into. There was once he convinced me it would be a good idea to sneak into the cafeteria in high school to add fake lizard tails to the food. We had to do kitchen duty for the next month! Honestly, I don’t even know why I bother with him all this while.”

It was strange but in the snapshots hung up on the laundry line that was his memory, rubber tails amidst pre prepared kimchi defined 16. The remaining shots had faded, overexposed to light and time till they were nothing more than vague recollections of days that had long past and were too short to keep carefully preserved. Fingers outstretched he traced the lines and contours of the snapshot trapping raucous laughter and whispers between washed dishes.

A few taps against his shoulders dispersed the reel, bringing into focus instead the quiet smile before him.

“He sounds nice. We should try that someday, see what the hospital staff think of it.”

“Yeah, and have me fired the next day. Who’ll make sure your IV bag’s filled then?”

The teasing smile was still playing at the edges of his lips when he realised that the amber eyes before him had taken to listlessly gazing at the bed beside him once more. The rise and fall of Lu Han’s voice began unannounced, quietly gaining momentum as whatever he was seeing before him gained substance.

“You wouldn’t. The nurses are used to my pranks by now. I had an accomplice once. He took that bed there. I guess you would call us the bane of the hospital staff what with the things we got up to. Stashing pillows, sneaking in snacks, swapping pills for sweets. The kids that come in now aren’t half as bad as we were. We were probably the reason why the hospital had to offer free painkillers. Numb the headaches we caused. It was fun being carefree.”

There was something about his tone, the lilting rope trying to reign in shreds of memories pulled away by the winter breeze. Jongdae could see a younger Lu Han, eyes brighter and more vivid, running down the corridors. Somewhere in between it must have gotten lost, stars fallen through the cracks.

“It would be nice doing that all over, talking and just playing again like normal kids.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was his name, your partner in crime?” The question was stuttered with a hesitant regret that maybe he had dug too deep, hitting the raw scabs of a wound just barely healed. Lu Han though barely responded to the accidental probe, replying with the disinterest of thoughts that had already been dragged beyond that point in time.

“Hm? Minseok. Kim Minseok. The staff around here took to calling him Baozi most of the time. Kind of looked like that I guess.”

“I see. Well, my shift’s over. I need to get going.” The tiny head bobbed up once in response to offer a nod and a short wave. In short shuffling steps, Jongdae moved away from the stifling emptiness, the chokehold so much more pronounced since he was aware of what was lacking now, what should have been there. Had he stayed, he might have caught more than just the tail end of yellow paper brought out beneath the careful scrutiny of chaotic amber, remade and marked by carbon and streaks of grey striked through.

Instead, beyond the quick steps and polite requests to look into past occupants, Jongdae’s eyes looked up a certain K and M, filing through extended lists meticulously kept track of. The name eluded itself from sight before finally peeking in between a certain Kim Jeowon and a Kim Reowok.

R-315. Kim Minseok. In-patient treatment till May 2005. Deceased, age 15 due to Interpleural membrane rupture.

----

That night, in the midst of quiet city lights and shifting figures moving through time in their own little bubbles, Jongdae found himself at a particular wooden door, fist dropping after having just knocked against it. Between ten and fifteen taps of his feet against cool tiles, the door swung open to reveal a puzzled but familiar face looking back.

“Jongdae? What... Why are you...”

For once, he’s out of things to say.

“Cancel your dinner with Kyungsoo Baekhyun. We’re having ramyun take out tonight.” Slipping off his shoes at the doorstep, Jongdae pushed past the figure still standing at the doorstep. Baekhyun’s jaws only seemed to start working after two boxes had been deposited on the kitchen table from Jongdae’s hands.

“Hey you can’t just barge in like that! Kyungsoo was even paying for tonight’s dinner! My one dinner date and you ruin it!”

“Too bad. You’ll get to pick out the movies as compensation though.”

What followed were words mumbled in an incoherent jumble which roughly translated to ‘You’ll-have-to-pay-for-this-one-day’.

Yet even though the grumbles about his lost dinner at a fancy restaurant were flowing in a steady stream, Jongdae noticed how Baekhyun’s fingers didn’t hesitate to press in the numbers committed to memory to apologise for the last minute changes and the ambivalence of ‘pain-in-the-’ friends before setting up placemats for two.

And as the night slipped past between shifting screens and random CDs slotted in, the vague imprint of two kids running around R-315 haunted Jongdae’s vision.