Drowning in the Distance

VI | Donghyuck

A loud, ringing knock upon my door startles me out of my daydream. I'd been sat at the desk for the last forty minutes, staring down at a cartoon drawing of Doyoung that I'd already finished. My thoughts drifting to the look on the girl's face when I'd swung my leg over the side of the ledge. Why did she care so much? I stand from the chair, pulling my eyes away from the window and crossing the room. Nobody ever really knocked and waited for a response. My mother certainly didn't. I open the door to my room, surprised to see Y/N backing up against the white wall on the other side of the hallway, around six feet away from me. After the stunt I pulled yesterday, I thought she'd steer clear of me for at least a week. She's wearing about three face masks and two pairs of gloves, her fingers wrapping tightly around the plastic handrail on the wall. As she moves, I catch the faint scent of sweet vanilla. It smells nice. It's probably my nose craving anything that isn't bleach. A grin pulls the edges of my mouth upwards as she stares at me, brushing an unruly strand of hair away from her face.

"Are you my proctologist?" She doesn't seem amused at my joke, giving me what I think is an icy look from what I can see of her face, leaning to her right, peering past me into my room. I suddenly feel conscious, glancing behind me to see what she's looking at. The art books, the AffloVest sitting on the floor beside my bed from when I shrugged it off as soon as Doyoung left, my open sketchbook on the table. That's about it.

"Why is your- and where is- I knew it." She says finally after stammering for a moment, like she confirmed the answer to some true crime cold case from Buzzfeed Unsolved. She holds out her double-gloved hand expectantly. "Give me your regimen. Let me see it"

"You're kidding, right?" We stare each other down, her stern eyes shooting daggers right through me while I try to give her an equally intimidating glare. Though, I'm bored shitless, so maybe I could indulge her request. I think for a few seconds before my curiosity gets the better of me. I roll my eyes and turn to go and tear apart my room looking for a small sheet of paper that's probably already in a landfill somewhere. I push aside some magazines and crouch to check under the bed. I rifle through a couple of my sketchbook pages, and even look under my pillow for show, but it's nowhere to be found, as expected. Why did she want it? I straighten up and turn to the door, shaking my head at her. "Can't find it. Sorry. See ya." She doesn't budge at my words, though, and crosses her arms in defiance, leaning comfortably against the wall and refusing to leave.

"Hurry up." So I keep looking, my eyes scanning the room while Y/N taps her foot in the hallway impatiently. God, why was she so persistent? I mean, it's interesting don't get me wrong, but still slightly irritating because it's useless. That stupid regimen is already- wait. The pocket-size sketchbook lying on my dresser catches my eye, the blue sheet of paper crammed into the back of it, neatly folded and barely poking out past the small pages of the book. My mum must have hidden it there the last time she visited, so that it didn't end up in the garbage bin. Knowing me, she knew it would have. I grab it, heading back to the doorway, and holding out the paper to her.

"Not that it's any of your business..." I mutter. She snatches the paper from me immediately before pressing back up against the far wall, her eyes scanning the sheet. I see her furiously blinking down at the neat columns and rows that I made into a cool cartoon, imitating a level of Donkey Kong, while my mother and Dr. Moon chatted. I think I was supposed to be listening to their conversation, but the sketch had a positive outcome, unlike all of the conversations that happen between me, my mother and a doctor. The outlined ladders sit on top of my dosage information, rolling barrels bouncing around my treatment names, the damsel in distress screaming "Help!" in the left-hand corner next to my name. I thought it turned out nicely. Plus, it was pretty clever, right?

"What is- how could you- why?" Clearly, she doesn't think the same.

"Is this what an aneurysm looks like? Should I call Irene?" She doesn't seem amused by this either, shoving the paper back at me, her eyes harsh and I can only imagine how furious her face looks under the masks. Geez, tough crowd. "Hey," I say, throwing the sheet of paper down on the table beside the door, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "I get that you have some save-the-dying, be-a-hero complex going on for you, but leave me out of it." She shakes her head at me, eyes imploring.