"You are fucking crazy!"
-Sunoo
"We are all crazy.., you just refuse to see it Sunoo-ya.."
"Let me go.. please"
-Sunoo
"I would, but where's the fun in that, hm?"
A story abou...
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The heavens wept, tears of rain cascading down in a torrential downpour. Sunghoon was laying on the bed, ensconced in the cocoon of his blankets, breathing heavily. The room felt stifling, and the scent of sweat clung to the air.
Amidst the rhythmic sound of raindrops pelting against the windowpane, a persistent melody wove its way into Sunghoon's consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, as his phone continued to ring insistently. With a groggy hand, he reached out and retrieved the device, squinting at the bright screen that displayed the caller's name: "Miss Choi."
"Hello," he muttered, his voice gravelly with sleep, his throat parched.
"Mr. Park, are you alright?" Miss Choi's voice rang out, laced with concern. "You haven't been picking my calls for the past 12 hours! Where are you?"
Sunghoon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his mind a haze of drowsiness. Twelve hours? Had he truly been asleep for more than half a day? His heart raced, anxiety gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. He coughed, his voice raspy as he responded, "I was sleeping... I'll be at the art exhibition venue in an hour. Don't worry. Tell Wonyoung to handle everything until I get there."
A wave of vertigo swept over him as he ended the call, the room spinning around him. He shifted, the effort causing a throbbing ache to surge through his body. The digital clock on his nightstand confirmed it was 10 am. Panic gripped him as he realized the time, his mind racing through the preparations that needed his attention. But his body felt like lead, weighed down by the fever that raged within him.
Swallowing hard, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his limbs protesting with every movement. The world seemed to sway, a dizzying blur of colors and sensations. Clad in rumpled clothes from the previous day, he staggered to his feet, clutching the phone as if it were a lifeline.
Sunghoon's breath came in ragged gasps as he attempted to gather his bearings. The path from the bed to the bathroom felt like a marathon, each step a struggle against his own body. The mirror reflected a face pale and drawn, his eyes carrying the weight of fatigue and illness. He splashed cold water on his face, a futile attempt to shake off the dizziness.
His reflection held a gaze of determination, stubbornness etched into every line of his features. He knew he couldn't afford to falter now, not when the culmination of his efforts lay just within reach. He reached for his medication, his hands trembling slightly as he popped a few pills, hoping for some respite from the fever's relentless grip.
Summoning the last reserves of his energy, Sunghoon's struggle to take a shower felt like a Herculean task. The water, normally a comforting embrace, struck his feverish skin like icy needles. Each movement was a battle with his own body, his arms heavy and uncooperative. The simple act of lifting his arms to wash his hair was a pitiful endeavor, his fingers trembling against his scalp. He leaned against the shower wall, his breath ragged, whispering to himself, "Just a little longer, just a little longer."
