Drowning in the Distance

XII | Donghyuck

I messed up. Bad. I know that. I knew that the second those stupid words left my mouth. I sneak out of the CF wing and around the east lobby of the hospital after dropping off the drawing, my phone clutched tightly in my hand as I wait for something. A text, a FaceTime, a phone call, anything. She must have seen the drawing by now, right? She had to have seen it. Her light was on when I slid it under the door, but it's been radio silence since our fight. I didn't realise how much I relied on her contact until it was entirely gone. Contact. It's a funny word to use, really, because no matter how much I wanted to, I would never be able to make physical contact with her. Even if I didn't have B. cepacia, I still couldn't touch her. Was life always this unfair?

What should I do? She won't even talk to me.

I text Johnny, grimacing at myself. I can see him getting a real kick over me hung up on someone enough to ask his advice. I never do this. I've known Johnny most of my life and he's never seen me interested in a girl. Hell, I've never really been interested in girls. I've never wanted anything serious; fucking around is my specialty. But, Y/N... She's just different. And it's not because she has CF, no. She's... Huh. I don't have an explanation for it. No words could really describe the feeling that she gives me. She's just special.

Just give her some time, dude.

He replies. I sigh loudly, frustrated. Time. All this waiting is torture. The time seems to travel at a glacial pace whenever I'm not calling, or texting, Y/N, so the idea of waiting an unknown, unspecified length of time until she's willing to talk to me seems the most unappealing thing in the world. I slump down on a bench in the east lobby, watching people as they pass by, moving in an out of the sliding doors of Saint Evangeline's hospital. Children, fearfully grasping the hands of their parents. Nurses, rubbing at their eyes wearily as they finally get to leave. Visitors, readily pulling on their jackets as they head home for the night. For the first time in a few days I wish I were one of them, were able to just go home. Even calling it home seems weird now. It's been eight months since I stepped foot in my childhood house. Eight whole months. Jesus. When I think about it like that... I'm distracted from my thoughts when my stomach growls noisily, a slight pang of hunger pawing at my stomach, so I decide to go to the cafeteria to distract myself from the waiting with some food. Making my way towards the elevators, not really feeling up to taking the stairs, I freeze when I hear an acquainted voice echoing out of a room to my left.

"돈을 보내지 마십시오, 당신은 그것을 감당할 수 없다." The voice says, the tone sombre, sad. My ears perk at the sound of the familiar language, though I feel my heart ache a little at his words. I peek my head inside to see it's a chapel, with big stained-glass windows and old-fashioned wooden pews. The ancient, churchy look is so vastly different from the rest of the hospital's modern, sleek design. Interesting. My eyes then land on Jaemin, sitting in the front row, his elbows resting on his knees as he talks to someone on the phone. "나도 너를 그리워," he says. "알아요. 사랑해요, 엄마." He hangs up the phone, putting his head in his hands as he mutters inaudibly to himself.

I pull the heavy door open a little wider so that I can step through, the hinges creaking loudly as I do. The boy in the front row turns around in surprise, clearly shocked at my sudden appearance.

"The chapel?" I ask, my voice echoing loudly off of the walls of the wide space as I make my way down the aisle toward him. I wince at the volume, making a note to lower my voice slightly. He turns back around to face the front, smiling faintly.

"My mum likes to see me in here. I'm a Christian, but she's a Christian." He lets out a loud sigh, resting his head blearily against the pew. "I haven't seen her in just over two years. She wants me to come see her." My eyes widen in surprise and I sit down in the front row, across the aisle, a safe seven or so feet away. Jesus, that's a really long time. I can't imagine not seeing my mother for two whole years, not when she helicopter-parents me like she does. His mother must have been really bad for him not to see her for two years, especially 'cause he's still under eighteen, isn't he?