Lessons From Romance

Closer to Disorder

"Hello?" Namjoo called out when she suddenly stopped hearing him. "Hello? Sir?"

"What is it?" Bo Young asked leaning far over the desk.

"What the hell..." Namjoo muttered before handing her the phone.

"What did he say?"

"I don't know." Namjoo shrugged. "I'm going to head off now, see you."

"Good night."

After dropping the binder off Namjoo grabbed her bag and was ready to leave, but instinct stopped her in her steps.

"I need you right now."

Namjoo ran his words over her head and felt her heart flutter for a moment. Shaking her head furiously she shivered.

Laughing to herself she said, "Don't go there, Namjoo, don't go there."

Another step forward brought her to another halt. He'd sounded pretty sick over the phone. What if his fever still hadn't gone away?

Namjoo ran the few options still available in her head before groaning again.

About half an hour later she found herself standing on Luhan's doorstep again. She had to admit she felt stupid for doing this and reminded herself it was only because she was a good person.

Knocking on the door she called out, "Sir?"

No reply just like last night.

Namjoo closed her eyes in almost disbelief before knocking again.

"Sir."

There was no reply. Heaving a deep sigh she reached for the doorknob to find that it was as unlocked as ever.

Slowly pushing it open she stuck her head in first and peered around before she spotted someone on the floor. As she closed the door behind her she felt like crying out in frustration. Why was he knocked out again? Would she really have to carry him to his bedroom?

Lightly gritting her teeth she stepped forward and bent down. His phone had dropped beside him and she realized he hadn't hung up yet. Ending the call she turned to shake him awake.

"Sir?" Namjoo called out. "Sir..."

When he still didn't wake, Namjoo let out a loud sigh of remorse. She really dejected the idea of carrying him again.

To her luck he slowly opened his eyes to look up at her. Caught by surprise Namjoo immediately stood.

"You're awake?"

She watched him press his palm to the side of his head and grimace in pain before sitting on the couch. Namjoo watched him almost pitifully suddenly taking it as an understanding that he didn't do anything for himself. Turning on her heels she walked into the kitchen. One look into the pot told her that he hadn't touched the porridge she'd made.

Switching the stove on to reheat it she then turned to head back toward him. Inviting herself to sit down on the couch she pulled a bandage wrap out of her bag along with some medication she'd taken from hospital.

"I thought I told you to go to the hospital," Namjoo stated. "Give me your hand. You need to change the bandage if you don't want to get an infection."

After unwrapping the bandage Namjoo took a long look at the unruly cut on his wrist. It was like a deep dry red canyon with ancient red grass growing at the surface. Without further say she grabbed the new bandage, unrolled it, and started wrapping it gently around his wrist.

"Let me know if it's too tight," she told.

As the silence crept in she thought about how he'd cried last night so despairingly. How his voice cracked, the way his tears seeped through his clamped eyes, and how his sobs echoed into the apartment. Namjoo had never seen a man cry before and she didn't know they could cry like that. Men and women, she thought, were the same after all. To her, he didn't look like a person who would cry easily, but despite that she wondered why he did it. What kind of awful things happened to him? Why had he cut himself? Why was he prepared for death in such a way?