Drowning in the Distance

XIV | Donghyuck

I push open the door as quietly as possible, peeking my head out and looking both ways up and down the corridor before sneaking out of the pre-op area. After nearly crashing into a nurse in my hurry to get away, I quickly avert my gaze to the floor and put my surgical face mask up to camouflage myself in with the rest of the pre-op surgeons as she heads inside. I sigh in relief as she disappears, the door closing behind her. Phew, that was a close one. I take a few quick steps and slot myself in the space behind the wall next to the stairwell, ready to plan my next movement from place to place, when I notice a man and a woman sitting on opposite sides of the empty waiting room. They look familiar. Narrowing my eyes and lifting the goggles up onto my head, I look from one to the other. The woman sits, her elbows resting on her knees and head hanging down, much like the way Jaemin had been that day in the chapel. The man sits, bolt upright on one of the loveseats that fill the room as he clears his throat. I know them from somewhere. But where?

"Can I ask you a question?" The man speaks, and the woman looks up to meet his eyes, her teeth gritting and jaw clenching. Now that her face is on full display, I realise that she looks like an older Y/N. The same lips, the same eyebrows, the same expressive eyes. These are Y/N's parents. She gives him a singular, wary nod. The tension that fills the room is horrible, it's humid and suffocating and I know I should leave. I know I should open the stairwell door to my left and go straight back to the third floor, to room 315, before I get in trouble. But I don't; something makes me stay. The man's voice is hesitant, slow

"The tiles in my bathroom are, uh, like, light grey? What colour bath mat should I-"

"Yellow." She breathes, putting her head back down into her hands, her wavy hair falling in front of her face as she stares at her shoes. There's a moment of silence and, out of the corner of my eye, I see the door into the hallway slowly swing, Doyoung slipping inside and leaning against the wall beside it. Neither of them notices his arrival, both too busy staring at the linoleum tiles of the waiting room floor. Y/N's dad clears his throat again, eyes shifting nervously between the floor and his ex-wife, the mother of his children.

"And the towels?" His voice is quiet, tentative. He looks at her carefully, watching her reaction. She scoffs, her patience worn entirely thin as she puts her hands up in vexation.

"It doesn't matter." Her voice is sharp, a stark difference from the breathy sigh of a response she had given to his previous question.

"It mattered when we painted the downstairs bathroom." He ripostes, eyes now focused on the woman sat on the other side of the room. "You said the rug-"

"Our daughter is in surgery and you want to talk about towels?" She snaps, her face livid but refusing to look up at him. I glance to the right, looking over at the door. I don't think I've ever seen Doyoung look so displeased, and I've seen him disgruntled and infuriated a lot, probably more than anyone else in Saint Evangeline's. The respiratory therapist crosses his arms, straightening his back as he leans against the wall, watching their back-and-forth.

"I just wanna talk." The man says, his voice subdued. He sounds tired. "About anything."

"Oh my god, I can't. This is killing me. Can you just..." Her voice trails off as she looks over to see Doyoung, his face progressively growing angrier and angrier until it has a look much worse than he's ever given me, his furiousness reaching a level that I didn't know was possible. The man follows her line of sight until his eyes settle on the member of hospital staff in the room, who stares them both down. The latter takes a deep breath, pulling every ounce of air from the asphyxiating room.

"I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through in the last year, losing Yeji." He intones, his voice dour and his face stony. "But your other child-" he lifts a hand, pointing at the doors that I've just exited, where somewhere close by, Y/N is lying on a cold, metal table about to be operated on "-is fighting for her goddamn life in there. And she's doing it for you." They both look away from the man and down at the floor, clearly abashed. Still, Doyoung presses on. "You can't be together? You can't be friends? Then, at the very least, be adults." He fires at them, his voice practically shaking with anger. For the first time since I've met him, I feel a strong sense of liking towards the Doyoung. Y/N's mum looks up at the nurse, shaking her head at him as she does so.