"When you get a new heart, will I still be in there?" She says, barely a whisper. "Will I still be in that heart?"
"You're not just in my heart," Jeongguk replies truthfully. "You're in the blood flowing through my veins, you're in my mind, you're u...
"There was a skyness to the sky and a nowness to the world that he had never seen or felt or realized before."
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It's a calm and cool Monday morning when Jeongguk is greeted by the smell of plain porridge-something he's beginning to despise ever since he's entered the hospital.
For some reason, he feels like this is a hotel. Sure, it's more luxurious than what he's got in Busan, despite the smell of chemicals and medicine he breathes in every corner.
There's the air-conditioning, perfect for a hot weather when the sun is blaring through the windows and the room starts heating up like its an oven and Jeongguk's the unfortunate dough.
There's also room service? The nurses basically come around and do anything for him. They send him food, change his sheets, give him his meds whenever he needs it.
Perhaps, he should be grateful. As much as he wants his mother to be here, he doesn't want her to worry whenever she sees his condition.
It's also a calm and cool morning when Jeongguk moves to get his checkup. He's sitting quietly in the doctor's office, fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt. He doesn't know what's gotten him so nervous. He's been in this room for so many times already, expecting nothing but bad news as usual. Things never go his way.
After inspecting him and running a couple tests, the doctor says something that definitely catches Jeongguk off guard.
"We found you a donor..."
Those five words alone are enough to make Jeongguk's insides flip in happiness and joy. But he should've asked to hear the bad news first.
"...But your outstanding fees have to paid first before we can proceed with the surgery."
Again, it's their financial problems that keep holding them back. Jeongguk's expression immediately darkens at the announcement and he tells the doctor that he'll settle it as soon as he can. His grip on his shirt tightens as he suppresses the urge to tear up right there.
The doctor gives him a comforting pat and says, "Your condition is quite stable, thankfully. I'm sorry, but this is the most we can do for you."
When Jeongguk walks out of the room, he lets the first tear fall down his cheek. He's so close. So close to getting out. All they need is money. He knows that everything in the world revolves around money. Life and happiness-it's all money. And money is the one thing he doesn't have.
He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and gathers himself together. He's reminded by the first rule Yerim made and sucks in a deep breath. It's not wrong to plaster a smile on your face during dark times like these, right?
Jeongguk then marches down the hallway, passing by pretty much the same people he's seen every other day-the patients, some of their families and friends, the nurses, the doctors. His eyes search around for a specific face belonging to a specific girl. Where might she be today?
