Drowning in the Distance

VIII | Donghyuck

I carefully shade Doyoung's dark hair, leaning back to look at the drawing I did of him holding a pitchfork. As I'm nodding along with the music, content with my sketch, my phone begins vibrating noisily on my desk, making the coloured pencils upon it dance. It's Y/N. On FaceTime. Surprised, I reach over to pause Smooth Criminal, which is blasting from my laptop, swiping right to answer the call.

"I knew it!" She says as her wide eyes come into view, face close to the screen in observance. "Where's your AffloVest? You weren't supposed to take it off for another twenty minutes. Did you even put it on? And did you take your Creon? I'll bet that's a no." Her voice is rushed, the jumble of words continually spilling out before I can fully process any of them. I take a breath and fake an automated voice.

"We're sorry, you have reached a number that is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error-"

"You can't be trusted." She says, cutting into my impression. I make a sound of protest. It was going so well, too. Some of my finer work, absolutely wasted on this girl. She interrupts me once more. "So, here's how this is going to work. We'll do our treatments together so I know you're really doing them." My mouth curves into a smile, tucking the pencil I was just using behind my ear, placing my head atop of my palm and looking at her with amusement, playing it cool.

"Always looking for ways to spend more time with me." She immediately hangs up on me, but it was totally worth it, cause for a second, a split-second, I saw a grin teasing the corners of her lips. Huh. Interesting.

We stay on FaceTime, both of us on our laptops more than ever, for most of the next few days, and surprisingly it's not all snappy orders. She shows me her technique for taking pills with pudding cups. Which is a stroke of genius, might I add. And it's delicious. We breathe in our nebulizers, and sort our IV drips, marking off treatments and meds together in her app. The app is surprisingly well built, simple and easy to use with no flaws at all. Well, it's not really surprising, is it? There doesn't seem to be anything that this girl can't do. But Y/N was right, that day in the viewing room of the NICU. For some reason, me completing my treatments, and her being able to ensure that it is truly happening, is helping her to relax. Gradually, she's becoming less and less bad-tempered, less uptight. And, I won't lie, even after only two days, it was so much easier for me to get out of bed this morning. There's definitely been an improvement in my breathing. During the late afternoon of the second day, I start to put on my AffloVest, jumping in surprise when Doyoung busts through the door unannounced, ready for the usual four o'clock fight that we have over it whenever he's on shift. He always wins the brawl to get it on after threatening to confine me in isolation, but that's never stopped me from trying to get out of it; partly because I really don't want to do it, and partly because I really like pissing Doyoung off. I slam my laptop shut, sharply ending the call with Y/N as Doyoung and I stare at each other in an Old Western style standoff. He looks from the AffloVest, half pulled on, to me, the steel in his face and the threat in his eyes melting away, leaving his face resting in shock and a hint of relief. His voice is as surprised as his expression, clearing his throat to sound less caught off guard.

"I don't believe my eyes. You're putting on your AffloVest." I shrug like it's no big deal, glancing at the compressor to double-check that everything is hooked up right. It looks fine to me, but it's definitely been a while since I've done this myself. Y/N would probably point out a million things that I'm not quite doing right if she was on the call. I glance back at Doyoung, feeling a wave of satisfaction come over me at the simple fact that he doesn't have a reason to chew me out, not today.

"It's four o'clock, isn't it?" I chime, amusement clear in my voice. He rolls his eyes and pins me with a look, a harsh-eyes and steely gaze that, if I were anyone else, may scare me into doing what he says.