Play my heart

Chapter XIX

It's all a blur after that. The thought of grabbing a coat doesn't cross his mind, so the icy wind hits him full force as soon as he starts the motorcycle. He doesn't remember much about the drive except the beating of his heart in his rib cage and the oppressive feeling of not being able to breathe.

His name and his influence get him past the hospital's skepticism. White walls, antiseptic smell and blue uniforms get close to asphyxiating him as someone he can't see leads him through the halls. The rumble of his blood in his ears drowns every other sound around him. An only thought flashes through his mind with every desperate pulse of his heart.

The last minutes of sunset cast orange lights on the hospital room through the window. Darren freezes on the doorstep, mouth agape.

White bandages wrap around Lee's forehead, messing up his hair. His face is covered in scrapes, an ugly cut crosses his nose and a bruise blooms in angry purple at his cheekbone. Both arms rest on top of the crisp white blankets, the left one bandaged up to the sleeve of the hospital robe.

The nurse leaves them alone, quietly closing the door. Darren stumbles forward, still dumbfounded—he takes a quivering breath and finds himself sitting on a chair next to the bed.

"Oh my god."

Pressing his elbows to his knees, he hides his face in his cold hands, just now realizing he'd been freezing the whole way up here. His legs go numb, and for a minute all he can do is try to catch his breath. It takes a great toll out of him to land his gaze on Lee's sleeping figure once more.

"What the hell happened to you?" Darren tries, voice merely a whisper through the barbed wire around his throat. "For fuck's sake, Lee Jung, you're gonna be the death of me. What on earth. Did you hurt your hands? I'll never forgive you if you did. A musician's gotta be careful, bastard."

He exhales a laugh, heavy with released tension and crushing concern. Somewhere in his head lies the vague memory of the nurse telling him about an accident and the possibility of a concussion, his state serious enough for him to stay in the hospital for a few days, but not to be worried about his survival.

"Still," he sighs, "that must hurt like hell."

At least he's finally getting some sleep.

It takes a few minutes and a lot of self-control, but he manages to calm down eventually, until there's only the sharp ache somewhere in his chest as proof of his distress. He wraps his fingers around Lee's right wrist, thumb nuzzling the back of the pianist's hand. The contact sends a shiver through his whole body, and he disregards it as a consequence of the temperature difference—his hands, after all, are ice cold and numb, while Lee's are irresistibly warm. Temperature difference.

"You're going to kill us with practice after you get out, aren't you?" he says, just to break the silence. "Absolute monster. You know, the boys were asking me the other day why we're even friends. I wonder the same thing most of the time I'm with you. I mean, you annoy me like no one else does, and you only have bad things to say about my playing, you're competitive as hell, you're loud and rude and a bit of an ass. You talk so much I can hear you even when you're not around... even in my dreams. You're a complete mess, Lee Jung, and still..."

Darren pauses and shakes his head, biting his lower lip. Where is he going with this? What is he even trying to say? It's not like he can—or wants to—talk about the way Lee makes his blood boil and his thoughts fade into nothing, or the way his whole body is pulled towards him like they were made to curl around each other, and really, those are some weird things to be thinking about. Worry must be doing things to his head.

He doesn't try to stop his hand from sliding into Lee's palm. It's warmer there.

"Just, wake up, yeah? I'm not saying I miss your talking my ear off but," he swallows, "it's too quiet here. It doesn't really suit you."

His thumb grazes the pianist's knuckles as his words die out. Lee remains as unconscious as before, eyelashes casting shadows over his cheekbones, lips slightly parted. Darren follows the rise and fall of his chest in slow breaths, lost in his jumbled thoughts.

The door opens and his soul leaves his body. He scrambles to his feet, letting go of Lee's hand, and turns around to find a short girl on the doorway. They gape at each other for a beat.

"Oh!" she jumps, eyes widening. "Prince Charming is here!"

Darren can only blink in response; his face grows warmer with each second.

"God, I'm so sorry, were you having a moment?" she blurts out, looking back and forth between Darren's red face and Lee's unconscious frame. She brings her hands to her mouth. "Were you confessing your love?! Such bad timing! Please forgive me, I can leave you alone right now, I didn't mean to ruin it!"

Confessing his what? Darren goes into a coughing fit upon processing her words, and desperately waves his hands in front of him.

"I wasn't... doing that!" he says. "You-you're-you're not interrupting anything, please stay."

The girl hesitates at first, but seems to be convinced after some more staring at the boys. She steps inside the room and walks to the other side of Lee's bed, setting a yellow backpack on the floor.

"Well, you shouldn't confess while he's asleep anyway," she states, voice softer. "He deserves a chance to respond, don't you think?"

Nothing Darren says is enough to get the idea out of her head, so he doesn't try. Instead, he searches around his memories, and confirms this is the girl he saw with Lee on some competitions.

"I'm Lisa, this guy's cousin," she introduces herself.

"Oh, um," he starts. "I'm Darren."

For some reason, that gets a smirk from her. "I know. Fancy seeing you here, how did you get security to let you in if you're not a family member?"

He has the decency to avert his gaze and rub the back of his neck, just a tiny bit embarrassed.

"Used the 'last-member-of-the-Kohn-family' card there," Darren admits with a huff. "It works wonders."

Lisa giggles at that, shows no sign of judgment. "Fair. I'd do the same for far less noble reasons. Besides, I reckon you were just desperate to see my cousin. Must've been quite the romantic scene."

"That's not..."

She waves him off, the same way Lee does when he doesn't want to hear his explanations. He sits down again, careful to keep his hands to himself, lest his actions only convince her further of something that's not real. They talk a bit more after that—she's not as worried as she is annoyed, saying something about dealing with Lee's recklessness too often.

Lisa was there when things went down, so she tells him about it. Turns out the accident happened when he was going out of the orphanage, on his way to Darren's place. A couple of children ran behind him and to the street, a motorcycle was driving towards them, Lee got them out of the way and the rest is history. What kind of pathetic attempt at a 'cool guy' persona, ending up in the hospital for being a hero.

"Anyway," Lisa says, "are you busy today? I'm afraid I can't stay for much longer, but maybe you could...?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Darren blurts out without thinking. Lisa arches her eyebrows. "I mean. Yeah. I can stay I guess. Don't worry about it."

He pretends he can't hear her giggling behind her hand on her mouth. She stays for half an hour more, until her phone starts ringing non-stop, and she can't postpone it any longer. They bid each other goodbye, he promises to take care of the idiot.

"Good luck," she says, the door already open. "I'm rooting for you, Prince Charming."

"How do you..."

She's gone before he can get the full question out. When the door closes behind her, he slumps on the seat with a petty frown. What does 'rooting for him' even mean? And how, for hell's sake, does she know about that silly nickname?

"You have a lot of explaining to do," he tells Lee, clicking his tongue at him.

Unsurprisingly, the pianist doesn't answer.