Drowning in the Distance

XIX | Y/N

We leave the pool room, our hair drying slowly in the cold as pitch black night turns into early morning. We walk together, hands connected through the pool cue, passing things that I've seen a billion times since my first time at Saint Evangeline's: the same lethargic security guards, the same dozing nurses, the same sight of visitors angrily shaking the broken vending machine near the lobby, the same sterile tile floors and the same dimly lit hallways that are littered with broken bulbs, but everything seems different with Haechan next to me. It's like seeing everything for the first time, a mixture of fascination at these mundane things and an appreciation for their presence in such a place. Until now, I didn't know it was possible for a person to make old things become new again, to replace the feeling of familiarity and boredom with something resembling childlike innocence. 

We continue, past the lobby and past the cafeteria, standing in front of a huge glass window off to the side, away from any passers-by, whether that be visitors or doctors or nurses, watching the world slowly lighten together, and together alone. Everything is still and quiet on the other side of the glass, the blanket of snow looking whiter than ever in the rising morning light. My eyes wander, taking in the sight of the city in the distance with this newfound perspective, seeing everything as all the more beautiful in its appearance. My gaze finally lands on the lights at the park in the distance, still brightly lit under the lightening sky. A small smile pulls at the corner of my lips as I turn my head to the boy beside me, taking a deep breath before breaking the comfortable silence.

"Hey." I say, my voice coming out softer and quieter than expected. Haechan turns to meet my eyes, eyebrows raised as he looks at me with curiosity. I continue, knowing that I have his attention. "You see those lights?" Haechan nods, looking over at the twinkling in the distance before averting his gaze back to me, his dark hair pushed back and away from his face, frizzy from the chlorine of the pool.

"Yeah. I always look at them when I sit on the roof." I feel his eyes on me as my gaze falls back on the lights, staring out at them with a soft sigh.

"Every year, Yej and I would go there around this time of year. She used to call them stars because there are so many of them, littering the darkness with their light." I smile, a small laugh slipping from between my lips. I hesitate slightly, my smile faltering before I take a deep breath and push the words out. "My family used to call me Little Star." I hear Yeji's voice in my ear, saying my nickname. It hurts, but the pain isn't as sharp as it used to be. It doesn't feel like a stab wound to the chest to speak the words that were so carefully reserved for her and my parents. Thinking about it doesn't leave me feeling dizzy and nauseous, trapped in a cocoon of my own thoughts. I clear my throat softly, continuing. "She'd stare at one light among the hundreds, and make a wish. She'd never tell me what it was, though. She used to tell me that if she said it out loud or told anyone what it was, that it wouldn't come true." The tiny lights glitter across the distance, gleaming under the rising sun and calling out to me, as if my older sister was out there right now, beckoning me to come to her. "But I knew what her wish was, she didn't have to tell me. Every single year, she wished for new lungs for me." I say, a bittersweet smile playing upon my lips. I take a deep breath, in and out, feeling the omnipresent struggle of the action, the wheezing feeling that overwhelms my chest, and I wonder what life would be like with new lungs. Lungs that would serve their true function. Lungs that, for a while, would completely change my life, flipping it on its head. Lungs that would let me breathe, let me run, let my body feel able, and give me more time, no matter how small, to go out there and really live.

"I really hope her wish comes true." Haechan says, his eyes focused on the lights in the distance. Was that his wish? Did he just use his wish on me? No. There's no way. It had to be a hypothetical. I lean my head against the glass, feeling the cold seep into the side of my face as I turn, glancing across at him.