Hyunjin
I refuse to accept the doctor's diagnosis. I refuse to believe that he's dead.
Forget protocols — I run to the bed, pushing the doctor and nurses out of the way. I climb onto the bed and straddle the patient.
„Get off the patient!" the doctor yells, pulling my sleeve and trying to pull me off the bed. I push her away hard with my elbow. She falls to the floor, but I honestly don't fucking care. I'm fully focused on my task. I won't let him die. Not like this.
I place my hands right in the middle of his bare chest and start compressing. Once, twice, three times. I lean down to his mouth and perform CPR. Nothing. I repeat the procedure over and over again. Compress the chest and breathe. Compress and breathe.
„Please!" the nurse urges me. „I'm sorry. He's dead." She reaches out her hand to me. I lash out at her, my expression could strike lightning at that moment.
„I'm giving you some fucking good advice. Don't fucking mess with me!" I yell at her, continuing to resuscitate Taesung. I can hear the hospital staff behind my back starting to whisper, but I don't pay any attention to them. Let them say what they want. I refuse to give up. I can't give up because Taesung has become the most important thing in my life.
Security bursts through the door and I glare at them. I know my time is running out.
„Come on, Taei. Don't do this to me, fuck!" I start to panic, which scares me a little. Me? Panicking?
Security rushes towards me, grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me away from the bed.
„Get away from the patient!" one of the thugs shouts at me, pulling me down. I try to fight back, but I don't have the strength. I'm tired, beaten up and exhausted. They drag me away from the room.
Gathering all the strength I have left, I break free from their grip and punch Taesung in the chest one last time. Hard. The damn line representing his heartbeat on the monitor jumps. It's weak, but it's still there.
„That's not possible," the doctor whispers, returning to her work and continuing the treatment. I breathe a sigh of relief, slip out of the security guard's grip and smooth down my clothes. It's a habit, even though I look like a shit right now. I did it! I managed to revive him!
„Save him!" I order her. „I don't intend to repeat this situation." The doctor glared at me, but took my order to heart. She asks me again to leave the room. I don't want to, but his life is at stake, so I comply and return to my spot by the wall in the hallway.
... ༺༻ ...
I've been sitting by his bedside for hours, holding his hand. He's asleep, the operation is long over, and he's been given sedatives. They tried to kick me out, telling me to go home and rest. They said he wouldn't wake up for at least twenty-four hours because it was a difficult operation. I dismissed them — I have no intention of leaving him at a time like this. I'm still wearing my bloodstained clothes, I'm dirty and exhausted. But I refuse to sleep. What if he wakes up?
I'm experiencing déjà vu. It's exactly like, when I was here with him after the fight at my house. Back then, I also sat by his bedside waiting for him to wake up after surgery.
He has been sleeping for more than twenty-four hours, and it feels like an eternity. I'm feeling anxious and negative thoughts are racing through my mind, telling me that something has gone wrong. Despite trying to stay awake, I eventually succumbed to fatigue. I only realise I've fallen asleep when I'm awoken by a slight tug on his hand, which I'm still holding.
I lifted my head, leaned closer to him and brushed his blue hair from his forehead. I waited for him to wake up completely and open his eyes. I want to be the first person he sees.
He slowly opens his eyelids, trying to adjust to the light, and tears start to fall from his eyes. He blinks to chase them away, his eyes darting around. Then he frowns slightly, raising his hand to his head. He grimaces.
His gaze rests on me, examining me. I smile at him and squeeze his hand.
„How are you feeling?" I ask, wanting to know how he's doing. He doesn't answer, he just studies me. The doctor bursts into the room and glares at me for not calling her straight away after Taei woke up.
„How are you feeling?" She asks him the same question. Taesung pulls his hand out of my grip and sits up on the bed.
„I'm fine, I guess," he replies hoarsely. I immediately reach for a glass of water and hand it to him to wet his throat. He takes it with trembling hands. Our fingers touch and he quickly pulls his hand away and looks away.
„What happened?" He asks the doctor, taking a sip from the glass.
„You were in a serious car accident."
„What? A car accident?"
„Don't you remember?" He glances at me, but can't keep looking. I don't blame him, he's been through a lot, and he injured his head in the accident.
„Where exactly am I?"
„Seoul Hyoyang Hospital." He opens his mouth in shock.
„What!" he squeaks. „How did I get here?"
„Like I said, you were in a car accident."
„I don't mean the hospital. I mean, Seoul? How did I get to Seoul? I live in America." I frowned in confusion. How badly must he have hit his head to not remember why he came here? I look at the doctor, who already suspects what is going on.
„Mr. Jo, what day is it today?"
„Please call me Taesung. Today is April 16," he whispers inaudibly. I straighten up. He hasn't remembered anything since he arrived here five months ago.
„I'm sorry to tell you this, Mr..., Taesung, but it's 23 September."
„Are you saying that I've forgotten the last five months?!" He shouts at the doctor, who nods silently. I reach out to him, wanting to hold and comfort him, but he won't let me.
„Who are you anyway?!" It's a single innocent question, but it stabs me in the chest so hard that I feel like my heart has just broken. He doesn't remember anything. Not even me.
„I'm...,"
„He brought you here, he saved your life." I glance at her sideways, but she doesn't give me a chance to defend myself. „We'll leave you alone for a moment so you can process this information. Whenever you need us, press this button," she says, pointing to the button next to his bed. „I'll come right away." She turns to me. „Please come with me, Mr. Yoon."
I was going to argue, but when I looked at Taesung and realised he didn't recognise me, I got up and left his room without saying a word. I know it's not his fault, but seeing him not recognise me or remember what we've been through together is like being stabbed in the same place over and over again.
... ༺༻ ...
BLOOD DEBT (피의 빚)