Just A Friend

#55

He knew in his head that he should talk to him often. But when he looked at Nam Seonwoo, he felt choked up and couldn’t say anything. So he just repeated a series of actions mechanically. It was also a kind of survival instinct. In the silence that seemed endless, he felt like he might lose his mind if he didn’t do something.

Kang Jihan finally understood his long-time lover who used to complain, “Say something, please.”

He wasn’t the type to turn on the radio while driving. Especially not when Nam Seonwoo was in the passenger seat. He liked that quietness where even the sound of the wind was blocked out. He enjoyed the regular sound of breathing from the passenger seat, or the occasional unconscious humming when Nam Seonwoo was in a good mood, or the sleep talk as he nodded off. He liked the chatter too, but strangely, whenever he held the steering wheel, he found himself listening to the small sounds coming from beside him.

But Nam Seonwoo thought that quietness was silence. Back then, he couldn’t understand Nam Seonwoo complaining, “Say anything, please,” with a suffocating expression. He didn’t know why silence was uncomfortable.

But now he understood.

That it wasn’t discomfort, but anxiety.

“…Huh, ugh.”

He had been feeling like he couldn’t breathe well for a while, and now his breathing started to rapidly quicken. He was sick of the panic attacks that unfailingly struck every day.

He staggered towards Nam Seonwoo. He grasped Nam Seonwoo’s bony hand and pulled it to his face as if praying, and his short, choppy breaths gradually calmed down.

The panic attacks had started when he was only allowed brief visits of less than a few minutes. Back then, he couldn’t even touch Nam Seonwoo. Even just looking at him from a distance, an inexplicable fear welled up from his ankles. As he quietly gazed at the motionless face, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

If only he had held onto him then.

If only he had asked Nam Seonwoo what he meant when he smiled and said “Thank you.” If he had at least said something in response. Then wouldn’t Nam Seonwoo have left a little later? Then the accident wouldn’t have happened.

No, he shouldn’t have said he had no appetite that morning in the first place. He should have nodded when asked if he was going to eat breakfast. Then Nam Seonwoo wouldn’t have come to the hospital to bring him porridge, and he wouldn’t have had the accident.

His thoughts didn’t stop at that morning but endlessly went back to previous moments, now repeating meaningless hypotheticals. Then what had been welling up from his ankles gradually rose higher until it engulfed his whole body. The fear that came like a tidal wave chopped his breathing and thoughts into short pieces, and that’s how the panic attacks came.

It was ironic. The panic that came when looking at Nam Seonwoo’s face could only be calmed by holding onto Nam Seonwoo. Nam Seonwoo was both the cause and the cure for the panic. If he held Nam Seonwoo’s hand and repeated his name, the formless fear would wash away cleanly.

Like now.

His back was damp. The cold sweat that had been running down his spine had now returned to its original body temperature. Although he knew he should get up and wash, the warmth in his hand was so soft that he couldn’t bring himself to rise.

The clock now pointed to five o’clock.

The dim dawn light shone on the back of the person kneeling beside the bed. The body, soaked through by the storm-like anxiety, clung to the small hand for a long time even after regaining breath.

Soon, the back taking in and exhaling long breaths began to move more regularly.

It was the end of a long bout of insomnia.

* * *

That day seemed to flow like any other.

Winter peaches were Nam Seonwoo’s favorite variety. He used to say they were sweeter in winter than in summer, and would sing peach songs from before autumn ended.

He wondered if Nam Seonwoo might wake up if he smelled them. So he ordered several boxes from the place Nam Seonwoo always ordered from. The start of his day was peeling the skin that Nam Seonwoo hated and cutting the peaches into bite-sized pieces. That’s why the food disposal area on this floor was piled high with untouched peaches.

Kang Jihan, who came out after washing up briefly in the bathroom attached to the hospital room, habitually headed for the fruit basket. He threw away the peaches he had cut yesterday, picked up a new peach, and sat down next to Nam Seonwoo.

Drip, drip… The knife rustled between the sounds of drops falling from the IV stand. Just as he was about to place the plate of neatly cut peaches by Nam Seonwoo’s head, it happened.

His hand, stopped in mid-air, dropped the plate. Fragments flew with a noise that tore through the space. But none of that registered in his eyes.

Nam Seonwoo had opened his eyes.

“Seon…”

It wasn’t a hallucination. Under the eyelids that had lifted with difficulty, the amber eyes he had longed to see so much revealed themselves.

His body moved first. The chair rolled on the floor with a loud noise, but his hands reached for the bed, not the floor.

“…Seonwoo. Nam Seonwoo.”

Unlike his rush as if about to pounce, the hand touching Nam Seonwoo’s cheek was infinitely careful. The lightly pigmented eyelashes trembled finely along his quivering fingertips. Seeing that, something hot welled up suddenly.

“Can you… can you hear me? Look here…”

The eyes that had shown themselves with such difficulty didn’t meet his gaze even once. The hazily dilated pupils only stared blankly at the empty space near the window.

Somehow, he felt an urgency that he shouldn’t miss this chance. The hand wandering over Nam Seonwoo’s cheek hurriedly moved down. He called Nam Seonwoo’s name while rubbing the back of his hand held in both of his. His throat, long unused, made an unpleasant sound, deeply locked. So he endlessly rubbed the delicate skin, hoping Nam Seonwoo would recognize him through the warmth if nothing else.

“Can you… recognize me? You don’t have to make a sound. Just, here… look at me, Seonwoo. …Seonwoo?”

But the eyes that had barely opened closed again. Even when he tapped Nam Seonwoo’s shoulder to wake him and turned his limp cheek towards himself, Nam Seonwoo didn’t open his eyes, as if refusing.

“Why…”

The hospital room was terribly quiet.

Suddenly, he wondered if his mind had gone again. He was confused, wondering if he had seen an illusion this time too, having missed those amber eyes so much.

But when he saw the tears flowing under the closed eyes, Kang Jihan collapsed to the floor. Sharp fragments pierced his knees, but he felt no pain.

He stared blankly at the bony fingers, then wedged his own fingers between them. He tried to grip tightly as if holding on, but Nam Seonwoo didn’t grip back.

The empty ring finger felt strange. Nam Seonwoo had never taken off his ring. But the ring wasn’t among the personal effects recovered from the scene. Suddenly remembering the object in his pocket, he hurriedly took out the box. Fortunately, the ring was still there. He quickly slipped it onto the ring finger with its long-standing mark. However, the ring just slid off along with the limp finger.

Please.

Tears fell onto his knees. He wiped away the unfamiliar thing flowing down his cheeks, but hot tears flowed again. There was no end to wiping them away, so he just left them be.

He felt resentful. He couldn’t believe how Nam Seonwoo could so cruelly close his mouth, leaving only the words “Thank you.” He wanted to ask. Was that really all Nam Seonwoo had to say to him?

“It’s not me. I…”

There was so much he needed to say. There were so many words left unsaid that he choked up.

“Wake up. Nam Seonwoo. Please.”

Wake up and talk to me. Just say anything…

He pleaded, holding the hand that wouldn’t grip back, but Nam Seonwoo disappeared again. Despair settled heavily over his desperate prayer. It was just water flowing from his eyes, but it was so painful that he thought it might be better to fall into a panic attack.

When he came to his senses, he was in the hospital lounge.

“…”

Kang Jihan, blinking blankly, suddenly sat up. He didn’t know why he was lying here, but he had to go back.

“Hyung.”

Hearing a sudden voice, he turned his head to see a man in a white coat approaching with a bright smile.

“Wow. It really is you, Jihan hyung? The nurses said they thought they saw you, but I couldn’t believe it. Wow!”

Judging by his naive appearance, he was clearly an intern. But Kang Jihan didn’t remember who he was, and had no reason to remember. As he was about to ignore him and put his feet on the ground, his body swayed greatly.

“H-hyung! You shouldn’t get up so quickly. You fainted once, you know.”

Fainted? With a puzzled look, Kang Jihan scanned the name tag on the coat. Lee Minsu. He still didn’t remember. He seemed to be a junior from university. …Wait.

“Ugh, h-hyung?”

Minsu, whose collar was suddenly grabbed, stuttered in surprise. The grip pulling at his collar was strong enough to yank his upper body forward, as if he wasn’t the same person who had just fainted.

Kang Jihan looked him straight in the eye and asked.

“Are you currently on NS rotation?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, yes.”

“How’s the condition of the patient in Room 708?”

“I… gak, just a moment, hyung. Let go of this first…”

Only when he saw Minsu’s face turning bright red did Kang Jihan release his grip. An intern rotating through neurosurgery at this time probably wouldn’t be able to give a proper answer, but he might have overheard something. Waiting patiently, Minsu hesitated with an uncertain voice.