ENG - Fractured Fates ʰʸᵘⁿˡᶦˣ

21

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With an unbelievable rumbling in my stomach, I reluctantly went to work. My feet dragged heavily on the cold floor, while inside I felt the desire to vanish into thin air and not have to face Hyunjin.
I had to cancel this stupid sex date that I had agreed to in a fit of euphoria. But this euphoria had burst like a soap bubble: it didn't even leave a speck of dust. Instead, a cold wave of uncertainty and fear spread through me.

When I entered the ward room, I found Jisung and Kazuha in a stifling mood. Jisung's anger towards Kazuha was almost palpable, as she had gotten involved with a patient - something we were strictly forbidden to do. If only he knew that I had done the same thing... I could already imagine his disappointed looks and angry words. Sighing, I reached for the patient files, as if they could save me, and left the room again.
I began my first round, deliberately taking my time to delay the moment I would have preferred to avoid. But inevitably, I eventually arrived at the last room in the corridor, in front of which I stopped and took a deep breath. My heart pounded in my chest as I hesitated to grab the door handle. I let go of it again and again and wanted to turn back.
I didn't really need to record anything else with him, as he would soon be discharged. That meant everything was fine with him. So it wouldn't be noticeable if I just turned around and walked away. But my guilty conscience would then slowly eat away at me until I gave in anyway.
So I might as well do this torture to myself.

I took another deep breath before finally entering the room. I tried to look as composed and normal as I could, but my hands were shaking slightly and my voice sounded hoarse as I mumbled a perfunctory „hello".
But the bed was empty this time. The white comforter was messily folded back and the pillow still lay in the middle as if it had never been used. A strange sight that irritated me. Only when I pushed further into the room did I see that he was standing at the open window talking on the phone. The curtains blew gently in the wind, letting in the moonlight that bathed his face in an eerie white light. „I'll be out here in two days, so please give me the other half of Minho's orders. He's only doing this shit because of me," I heard him say. His voice sounded rough and strained.
I really didn't want to eavesdrop at all, so I concentrated on the folder and started writing down the vital signs like I did every day. Since he was still hooked up to the cables he was dragging across the room so he could stand by the window, I watched him out of the corner of my eye.

His fingers tightened around the phone as if he wanted to break it, and his eyebrows drew together in a grimace of anger and frustration. „I don't care. Give me that shitty job of his," he said again, this time a little louder. His heart rate was elevated, probably because he was on the phone and didn't sound happy at all. On the contrary, he sounded like he was about to explode. A stark contrast to his otherwise calm and indifferent façade. „Fuck you, bastard," he said at one point and hung up.
He ran a hand through his tousled red hair and sighed with stress. He turned away from the window, and only then did he seem to notice me. When our eyes met, I swallowed hard and lowered my gaze to the pen in my hand - pretending to write something down to hide my nervousness.

After a moment of silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the city, I raised my eyes again and looked over at him. He had turned towards the window again and was leaning against the windowsill with his eyes closed, his hand supporting his head. „You're going back to work?" I asked cautiously, hoping to break through the oppressive atmosphere. I was aware that I was probably the only one radiating this mood, because he suddenly seemed deeply relaxed again. „Mh?" he mumbled and slowly turned his head back in my direction, his eyes still half closed. „Yes, as soon as I'm out of here," he replied absently. „What do you do for a living?" I asked, somehow trying to make small talk.

He turned his head away again and looked out into the street. „You're not interested," he replied without looking at me. A bitter smile formed on my lips. He was right. I shouldn't care. And yet this question burned inside me, because almost nothing was known about him. I only knew his first name and, strictly speaking, I knew where he lived because of the incident, but that was it. I didn't know his full name or his age. He and his roommate, who kept popping up here, were a pure mystery.
„Right," I replied as I tried to hide my disappointment. „Well... if you have to work... then we can cancel it...", I stammered, fervently hoping that it would somehow be a good transition for the back out. „That would be perfectly fine with me..." I added more quietly as I lowered my gaze to the pen in my hand again.

My eyes wandered over his face, which was suddenly lit up by a slight, mocking smirk. „I knew you'd back out. So I don't care. If I want sex, I'll get it, I don't need your ass for that," he said in a bored voice that nevertheless had a sharp undertone. But his words hit me like a stab in the heart. I wasn't sure which of the two aspects bothered me more: the fact that he assumed I would back out anyway and wouldn't be serious, or the fact that he made it clear to me once again that he could have anyone and that I was just another person among many.
A little hurt in my pride, I replied slightly flippantly: „I wouldn't have backed out, I just meant well so you wouldn't turn up tired at work or anything."

The smirk on his lips widened as he walked towards me and stopped right in front of me. The closer he got, the faster my heart beat until I thought he could hear it. I tried hard not to flinch, but I did anyway when he stood right in front of me. After two more steps, the table behind me cut me off and I couldn't retreat any further. I felt the cold of the table against my back, while his warmth was in front of me.
He lifted his hand and placed his finger under my chin. „In case you haven't noticed: I'm only awake at night because I work nights and I'm used to it. That means I have all day," he said in a voice that sounded as cold and calculating as his touch. He let his hand move from my chin to the back of my neck, where he pushed back slightly and I felt a slight pressure. „So don't give me any excuses because you're scared. I don't feel like it and I definitely have better things to do than look after an insecure child," he added more brusquely and turned away from me again.

His words echoed in my head as I stood there feeling as if I had just been caught by a wave and thrown against the rocks. After he turned his back to me, I exhaled shakily, not even realizing that I had been holding my breath. His words hit me like a slap in the face and I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. He was right. I was an insecure child who let my emotions get the better of me.
But why did it annoy me so much?
Why did I feel so offended and hurt when he was only telling the truth?

I bit my lower lip and grabbed his top to pull him back in my direction. „I'm not backing down," I said in a slightly firmer voice, although I didn't know myself where I was getting this sudden courage from.
Why did I even say that?
I didn't actually want to, did I?
I did want to back out, but why did my body and especially my voice react differently?
He turned back to me and leaned against the table with his arms to the left and right of me, making me feel like I was boxed in. „Oh yeah?" he asked incredulously and a little amused as he raised an eyebrow.
I swallowed hard, as if I had a lump in my throat, and then nodded slowly. „Yes. I want you to make love to me," I replied, realizing myself as my voice slowly broke and became a barely audible whisper. He made me so incredibly nervous and his look was so intimidating that I wanted to sink into the ground. But at the same time, I felt a strange attraction that drew me to him like a moth to a flame.

He looked at me silently for a moment. His dark eyes pierced my soul, as if he wanted to read my deepest thoughts and fears. Slowly, with an almost imperceptible elegance and a hint of menace, he leaned down towards me.
His closeness made my heart race and my throat go dry. I could feel the warm breath of his breath on my skin, which sent a shiver through me. His lips touched my cheek, a fleeting touch that nevertheless sent a wave of emotion through me.

In a voice that sounded so rough and at the same time so seductive, as if it had been created specifically to charm and manipulate me, he whispered in my ear: „You're lying." It was both an accusation and a statement that made me shudder and my stomach tighten. My breathing became shallower with nervousness and my heartbeat almost drowned out his words.
But then the last shred of pride and anger I still had took hold of me and made me brave. I raised my trembling hands and grabbed cheeks to look at him and force him to listen to me. „I'm not lying," I said, my voice quivering with fear and determination. And to prove to him, and more importantly to myself, that I wasn't lying, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.

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