Smoke- lee heeseung

XI

"It is bitter—bitter. But I like it because it is bitter, and because it is my heart."
— Stephen Crane, "In the Desert"
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Yuwon lay unconscious on the infirmary bed, the sterile environment around her blurred into indistinct shapes. The world was a distant echo, the sounds of the school bustling outside muffled and far away. The coolness of the IV fluid coursed through her veins, gradually revitalizing her body while she remained blissfully unaware of the commotion.

The school nurse had quickly assessed her condition upon her arrival. After checking her vitals and noting her malnourished state, she carefully set up the IV drip. As she prepared the equipment, her eyes flicked to Yuwon's arms, where the sleeves of her shirt had slipped up slightly. A faint tension filled the air as the nurse noticed the shallow scars crisscrossing Yuwon's pale wrists—thin, angry lines that told a story of pain and struggle.

But the nurse chose to stay silent, understanding that sometimes the most important conversations were unspoken. She would monitor Yuwon and ensure she received the care she needed, without pressing her on subjects she wasn't ready to discuss.

As the IV began to deliver hydration and nutrients into Yuwon's system, the nurse checked her breathing and gently brushed the hair from her forehead. Yuwon remained still, lost in a dreamless sleep, her body finally allowing itself to rest after weeks of relentless pressure.

Outside, the door opened softly, and Heeseung stepped in, still dripping from the remnants of the lab incident. He paused, his expression shifting from irritation to concern as he took in the sight of Yuwon lying there, so vulnerable and seemingly fragile, covered by a thick blanket and the jacket and vest of her uniform lying at a side. The coolness of the room contrasted sharply with the warmth that radiated from his own frustration.

The nurse looked up, noting the shift in Heeseung's demeanor. "She's stable now," she said gently. "The IV will help her regain strength, but she's exhausted."

Heeseung nodded, crossing his arms tightly, a conflicted look on his face. "She'll be fine," he said, his voice lower than usual, tinged with an unfamiliar edge of worry, which he didn't display on his face. With that tone and expression, he might as well be talking about the weather.

"She will be," the nurse assured him. "But she needs time, sleep, rest—a lot of those."

Heeseung stood in the infirmary, the sterile scent of antiseptic mingling with the faint sound of Yuwon's steady breathing. He watched her for a moment longer, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. She looked so peaceful, so vulnerable—so unlike the fiery rival he was used to battling.

But the anger he had felt earlier was still simmering just beneath the surface. He took out his own anger, problems on her and it sent her to a hospital room—infirmary, but close enough.

"Why did I let it get to that point?" he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He couldn't shake the anger that pulsed through him—not just at her carelessness but at himself for allowing it to affect him so deeply.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms tightly as he fought to tamp down the rising tide of guilt. She always acts like she can handle everything. Maybe this is what she gets for being so reckless, he thought, but the conviction in his mind felt hollow. Deep down, he knew that their heated exchange had pushed her to a breaking point he hadn't intended.

Yuwon lay still on the bed, her features softened in slumber, the tension of their argument melting away from her face. Heeseung felt a pang of something he didn't want to identify. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll that might shatter if disturbed too roughly.