Respirator

Chapter Four

너의 가슴 한쪽이 시리게 저릴 때

"When part of your heart is sore and aching"

Being an intern isn't glamorous, but I can't complain. It keeps me busy, and it's better than sitting around wondering why my mind feels like a tangled web of confusion. Today, the manager tells me to tag along with the members of Stray Kids to a photoshoot. I nod and smile, hiding the small flutter of anxiety that's taken up permanent residence in my chest since the strange visions started.

"It'll be a good experience for you, Ae-ri," the manager says, barely looking up from his clipboard. "You can learn a lot from watching how the pros work."

"Of course," I reply, keeping my tone upbeat. Inside, I feel a little apprehensive, but I brush it off. It's just a photoshoot. Nothing out of the ordinary.

As I follow the members of Stray Kids to the van, I notice Jisung glancing at me from time to time. There's something in his eyes—an emotion I can't quite place. It's like a mix of sadness and hope. I can't help but wonder what he's thinking, but I don't ask. It's easier to keep things professional. We drive for a while, and soon we arrive at a park. The trees are tall and lush, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns of light on the ground. There's a familiarity to this place, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"We're here," the manager announces, and everyone begins to pile out of the van.

I follow the group, watching as the members laugh and joke with each other. They seem so at ease, so comfortable in their own skin. I wish I could feel that way, but there's always this nagging feeling at the back of my mind, a sense that I'm missing something important. As the photographer starts setting up, I wander a little away from the group, needing a moment to myself. I find myself drawn to a quiet corner of the park, near a cluster of tall bushes. For some reason, I can't explain, my heart starts to beat faster.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, but the moment I do, a flash of something hits me—an image, bright and sharp. I see myself in this very spot, but it's different. I'm talking to someone—Jisung, I realize, recognizing his face immediately. He looks deep in thought, his expression serious and contemplative. Then, I see myself laughing, taking his hand and pulling him down a narrow alley as we escape from some fans who spotted him. The memory—or vision, or whatever it is—fades as quickly as it came, leaving me reeling. My head starts to throb, a sharp, insistent pain that spreads across my temples. I reach up, pressing my fingers to my forehead, but it doesn't help. The pain intensifies, like a drumbeat inside my skull.

My breath hitches, and suddenly, I can't breathe. It feels like the air is being sucked out of my lungs, like someone has wrapped a steel band around my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. I gasp, trying to draw in a breath, but it's like I'm inhaling fire. My lungs burn, every breath a struggle. Panic surges through me, cold and consuming. I stumble backward, my vision blurring as the world spins around me. My heart is racing, each beat a thunderous roar in my ears. I can feel the ground shifting beneath my feet, like the very earth is unstable, threatening to swallow me whole.

"No, no, no," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my ragged breathing. "This can't be happening."

But it is happening. My chest feels like it's caving in, my body trembling uncontrollably. I clutch at my chest, trying to steady myself, but my hands are shaking too badly. I try to call out for help, but my voice is strangled, caught in my throat. I can't breathe—I can't breathe—I can't— The panic attack grips me fully, and I drop to my knees, clutching the grass beneath me like it's the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. Tears blur my vision, hot and stinging as they spill down my cheeks. I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't— In my mind, I hear a distant voice, calm and soothing, but I can't make out the words. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on the voice, but the pain is too much. My head feels like it's splitting open, my heart a frantic drumbeat that won't slow down. I'm spiraling, falling into a void where nothing makes sense. Every breath is a battle, every heartbeat a reminder of how fragile I feel. I can't breathe. I can't breathe— And then, through the haze of panic, I feel a hand on my shoulder, firm and grounding. I open my eyes, blinking through the tears, and see Jisung kneeling in front of me, his face etched with concern. His touch is steady, a solid presence amidst the chaos.

"Ae-ri," he says, his voice calm but urgent. "Look at me. Just breathe with me, okay? In and out. Focus on my voice."

I try to focus, try to match my breath to his, but it's so hard. My chest is tight, my lungs still burning with every attempt to draw in air. I feel like I'm suffocating, drowning in my own fear.

"Focus on me," Jisung repeats, his voice a lifeline. "In and out. You're okay. You're safe."

I force myself to follow his instructions, trying to mimic the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. It's like swimming against a current, every inhale a fight, but slowly, so slowly, I start to feel the panic recede, the grip on my chest loosening just a little. The pain in my head dulls to a throbbing ache, and I manage to take a deeper breath, my lungs finally filling with air. It's not enough to dispel the fear completely, but it's a start. I focus on Jisung's face, his eyes locked on mine, and let his calm wash over me.

"That's it," he says softly. "Just keep breathing. You're doing great."

I nod, too overwhelmed to speak, but grateful for his presence. I don't understand what's happening to me, why these visions keep coming, why they hurt so much. But right now, with Jisung here, I feel a little less lost. After what feels like an eternity, the panic finally ebbs away, leaving me drained and shaky. Jisung helps me to my feet, his arm steady around my shoulders.

"Do you want to sit down for a bit?" he asks gently, guiding me to a nearby bench.

I nod, sinking onto the bench and resting my head in my hands. My heart is still racing, but it's no longer the frantic, desperate beat it was before. I take a few more deep breaths, trying to ground myself in the present, to push away the lingering fear.

Jisung sits beside me, his hand still on my shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his voice soft.

I shake my head, still too overwhelmed to put everything into words. "I... I don't know what's happening to me," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I keep seeing things—visions, memories—I don't know what they are. And they hurt, Jisung. They hurt so much."

He nods, his expression understanding. "We'll figure it out together, Ae-ri," he says, squeezing my shoulder gently. "You're not alone in this. I promise."

I look up at him, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, I see something in his eyes—something familiar, something that makes my heart ache with a strange mix of longing and fear. I don't know what it is, but I cling to it, like a thread of light in the darkness.

"Thank you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, a small, reassuring smile that makes the fear in my chest ease just a little more. "Anytime," he replies. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

As I sit there, trying to steady my racing heart, I can't help but wonder what these visions mean, why they feel so real, so important. I don't have the answers yet, but I know one thing for certain: I need to find out. And maybe, just maybe, Jisung can help me understand the truth hidden in the shadows of my mind.