Dead Heart Serendipity

Troisième

troisième: one last song

The white theme of the room was over the top; white bed, white bars, white screen, white curtains, white walls, white ceiling, white floor, white sheets, white windowsills, white snow, white uniforms, white papers, white decors, white mugs, white sunshines, white manicure, and white trestles aligned at the right side of the room that Kyungsoo and Jongin was seating on.

Jongin hovers his eyes around the hospital sheds; long seats that were short waist apart, nurses passing left and right on the open door, and Kyungsoo's big mouth laughs at the dramatic scene playing on the television. He does parrot the dialogues; somewhere like "maybe I trusted in you" with a loud shattering of porcelain and glass, "and maybe I wanted you always" accompanied with fingers pushing deep on hurt chests, "maybe I loved you for septennial years" in deep red rose petals all over the floors slipping in to wide eye tears. Irony was it for Jongin, but he still clicks himself bridled to empty spaces and ahead white flats on white stockings.

One nurse comes in from the crowd outside, probably to her doctor's admission where they were staying in. She mumbles words behind her face mask, inaudible and frosted on both listening ears. She walks out without doing the effort of repeating what she said, leaving Kyungsoo and Jongin with stagnant annoyance.

"What did she say?"

"I don't know. Maybe her mask was too thick, or the television was too loud I can't focus on her voice."

"I'd go with the mask."

"No, maybe we should follow her and check if the doctor's ready."

They stood up and walked out of the room, tracing the nurse's distant footsteps. They arrived at the doctor's office, with the nurse inviting them in. It was keen now then; the doctor was indeed ready. They entered the room, and Jongin immediately diminshes in the clinical smell; everyone knows what clinics smells like. It made him giddy and fluster red, which to Kyungsoo took notice and held him by his shoulders.

"Do you need your medicine?"

"No. I just hate the smell. Reminds me of excessive thinners."

Jongin stepped on his hospital bed and Kyungsoo sat on the corners; still was watching television, but it was nearly on mute; he would like to hear and see what will happen. He was really satisfied that after convincing the patient to at least attend one short check-up just to see if he's okay. He agrees though he hates it. He hates clinics, and Kyungso could clearly see why.

The doctor droils over Jongin's body, having equipments and papers on board all over his eyes. He closes it, patiently waited for the results; still holding himself breathless, just not to inhale anymore of that eerie smell.

After a few moments, Jongin walks out to transfer to a seat on the doctor's desk. There were papers, Newton's cradle, papers, dolphin figurines, papers and a steel tray with he'd guess are heparin bottles and heparin injections. The doctor scribes at a piece of prescription note, vertical leaf assigned in horizontal writings.

"This is still your regular medicine, I just added one more hint." The doctor handed out the paper, eyes blocked by the intense reflection of light in his glasses. "And you'll have these heparin injections here at the hospital. Your metabolism wouldn't handle it if you'll do it on your house."

Jongin nods, even it scares him. "What's new, doc?" He asks after.

"The same type, just to ease down your psitta-co-fulvine skin and of course, that pain you have been experiencing."

"How did you know?" He averts his look to Kyungsoo, who he thinks talked to the nurses about his case when they were occupied.

"I'm a doctor, Mr. Kai." His seriousness strided in to a bright smile. "And I love your paintings; I'd be the first who wouldn't just let you die. Those fingers are gifted. You are South Korea's darling when it comes to modern day painting,"