Drowning in the Distance

XIII | Y/N

I hold Junnie tightly to my chest, a quiet sigh leaving my mouth as I look from my mum to my dad as they sit on either side of me in my room. They both give me a thin-lipped, half-hearted smile that doesn't quite reach their eyes as they avoid each other's gazes and we sit in awkward silence. I glance over at the picture of all of us, all four of us, pinned to the back of my door. Stupid smiles plastered across all of our faces as we look at the camera, the barbecue sizzling in the background and the joyfulness of the day lingering in the air. I can't help but find myself wishing that I could have those parents back, the ones who reassured me, who held my hand and kissed my head, who told me that everything was going to be okay, even if that didn't seem likely. 

Taking an attempt at a really deep breath, I suppress a hacking cough that threatens to panic the two of them, while my dad tries to make some good attempts at small talk. Whilst extremely uncomfortable, it was better to have small talk than no talk at all. He holds up the green sheet that they send around to all the rooms with the daily specials down at the cafeteria every day, a smile pulling at his lips as he looks at me.

"There's gonna be sweet potato soup tonight for dinner. That's one of your favourites, Y/N!" His voice sounds excited, something that I find endearing and somewhat comforting, but I can't stop the thoughts that come drifting in at his words. That means he's expecting me to come out of the other side alive. He's counting on me to come out of this alive.

"She won't be up for eating right after surgery." My mother snaps at him, the happiness on his face disappearing in an instant at her words. I try to sound as animated as possible when I speak, trying to cheer them both up.

"If I'm up for it tonight, I'll definitely get some!" My dad sends me a tiny, barely-noticeable, grateful smile at my attempt to lighten the atmosphere. I'm about to open my mouth to fill the silence once more when there's a knock on the door and an orderly walks in, wearing a surgical cap and a pair of blue latex gloves. At this, my parents both seem to wake up from whatever delusion they were in that this wasn't really happening. They stand, my dad reaching out a hand to take my smaller one in his own. It takes everything in me to steady it before his skin touches mine, trying to seem as calm as possible, when in reality, I'm more scared than ever.

"See you in a few, hun." My mum just about whispers as both of them give me hugs, which linger a little too long. Their words swim around my head once more. 'I don't know what I'd do without you.' 'The place is great, and I've got you and I got to put up all my guitars! What else do I need?' I grimace as my painful G-tube rubs up against them, but I hold on as tight as I can, not really wanting them to let go. 

When we inevitably part, the orderly pulls up the railings on the sides of the bed, locking them in place with a loud and harsh click, polar opposite to the familiar clicking of the door latch of the rooms on the third floor. I stare at Yeji's drawing on the wall as they roll me out, the healthy, blooming and blossoming lungs calling to me, screaming for me to claim them. I wish I could. I really do. But what I wish more than anything, is that my older sister was here with me now, holding my hand, singing the song. The stupid, stupid song. The orderly, who had now introduced himself as Taeyong, begins to roll me down the hallway of the third floor. Jaemin stands in his room, door open so that he can stand a safe distance away from my bed in the centre of the hall. I quickly ask Taeyong to stop, just for a second, and he obliges. My best friend stares at me, decked out head to toe in pre-op gear.

"Sexy." Is the first word he says. "You going for lunch lady couture?" Even in my stressed and terror-struck state, I burst out laughing.

"You know it. Linda the Lunch Lady ready to serve, both looks and shitty meatloaf." He joins me, our laughter echoing around the entire floor. Jaemin never fails to cheer me up, even in my worst moments. Our giggles fade as we stare at one another, eyes scanning the other's face and etching the image into our memories. This was another pre-surgery tradition, for the both of us. This one, though unofficial, is one that, in this moment, I don't think I've ever been more thankful for.