⚉ characters: jiung x reader
⚉ genre: angst, hint of romance, hurt/no comfort, slight comedy, drama
⚉ theme: friend!jiung, friend!reader
⚉ warnings: heavy topics, hospital setting, implied death, sick character, mild language, emotional distress, mentioned surgery
Masterlist ┋ a walk can be beautiful, yet painful <-
⚉ a/n: welcome or welcome back! Yes, you see that correctly. I am finally done with part 2 for Jiung’s imagine, wohoo! I know it took me a really long time, and I apologize for that. It was a lot, over 10k words, so... yeah 😅 I hope you’ll enjoy pt.2 as much as pt.1! Thank you to @seventeentypeshit (I’m sorry, I can’t properly tag you) and @gentiliana for patiently waiting for pt.2, I hope it won’t disappoint 💕 And also thank you so much for reading, leaving a heart, or even reblogging - it means a lot to me! If you see any mistakes, please feel free to kindly correct me ♡
Every single day you liked to go for a walk around your neighborhood. It started when you were only five years old, and your dad went on a walk with you—just to spend some quality time with his child.
But one day, a few years later, it all fell apart.
While you had to keep the tradition going on all by yourself because your dad was away on a business trip for a month, you met someone.
It wasn’t exactly a textbook meeting—you used to see him sitting there on a bench for a few months, but never had the courage to go up to him and strike a conversation. Mostly because you deemed it rude to just leave your dad on your walk for a boy. And also because you weren’t sure how to approach him and not to look like a total creep.
But you were now alone—and would be for another three weeks—so the courage seeped into your bones, and you walked up to him.
Of course, the overthinking won over you, and you changed your mind. You stopped a few steps away from the bench, ready to turn around and continue on your usual path, but a voice stopped you.
From that awkward, but somehow successful meeting, you became friends. You two kept on seeing each other every single day for three beautiful weeks—no shame to your dad, but those were the best three weeks you ever had on your walks.
And even if three weeks isn’t a very long time, a naughty cupid planted its seed, making the connection stronger.
It wasn’t surprising when feelings got involved—at least on your side. But you kept them to yourself, too shy to admit them or say out loud to the person who suddenly meant so much to you. In a way, it was scary how fast you cared for him, and maybe that was also a reason you kept your feelings hidden and pretended they’re not there.
Then your dad returned from his business trip.
Of course, he immediately asked how have you been, and if you kept on with the unwritten tradition you two had. So you told him you made a new friend thanks to that and also asked if it’s okay for your new friend to accompany you on your walks. Maybe not always, because you still wanted to have some father-child time with no one trailing behind you like a tail, but just from time to time.
Just like the best dad your father is, he agreed, but he wanted to spend the first walk after his return with you only. You agreed. Of course, you did. Having been separated for a month, you and your father had a lot to catch up on, despite having already told him half of it.
You let Jiung know via message about the slight change of him meeting your dad, which would move up just a day later. Jiung understood; he even wrote he wouldn’t make it on that day you were planning to spend with your dad only, so everything worked out perfectly.
When the day of your walk with Dad and Jiung came, you couldn’t hide your enthusiasm. Yes, you were also very nervous (you hoped your dad would like Jiung enough to let him stay for your walks), but the excitement rushing through you overshadowed any negative feeling.
And then it all crumbled down.
Jiung hadn’t shown up that day.
But he messaged you the night before that he can’t wait to meet your dad.
Jiung has answered none of your messages or calls you made.
That was weird; he always replied or picked up right away—like he did nothing but waited for your notification to pop-up on his phone so you didn’t have to wait for his answer too long.
Yet, you waited. Hold your phone as if it were your lifeline. But there was nothing; it was as if he had disappeared from Earth.
The days were passing by, and with that, the hope you were so desperately holding onto until you just let go of it. That was also the time you agreed to one of your dad’s suggestions, and that was to change the route of your walks.
The other was to stop going on them, but you couldn’t do that. It felt wrong to punish your dad for something he wasn’t even involved in. No, this was your personal fight with feelings that never got the chance to be explored and a heart that never got properly broken.
You had one last walk with your dad in the park before you would start an alternative route. This time, as you were approaching a bench where you would always meet Jiung, you didn’t stop and wait. You went past it with your dad by your side.
It was your way to move forward.
It had already been a month since you and your dad found an alternative route for your walks, and you had to admit it was the best decision. The new route still involved walking around the neighborhood, but instead of taking the right turn, you would go left.
That path would take you into a forest, and if you’d go long enough, cross a bridge—where your dad always insisted on stopping so you two could feed the ducks—you would end up sitting in a gazebo.
When you first found that place, it was clear no one used it anymore, nor took care of it. Veins and moss covered the structure, and this covering protected it from bad weather and from rotting and destruction. The gazebo showed its age, but that only enhanced its unique beauty. And because no people were around, it was also very peaceful.
Yes, you sometimes missed the lemon ice cream your dad would always end up buying once you arrived at the sweets shop in the park, but you could have the ice cream at home too.
You can’t physically buy this feeling and bring it home with you. No, you have to live in the moment to experience that feeling, and you were glad you did. That’s why choosing an alternative route was the best decision you ever made.
"Are you planning to go for a walk tomorrow?" Your dad asked, and you could hear the concern in his voice through the phone.
"Yes, Dad. I am." You said, sitting down on your bed, ready to call it a night—but first you had to say goodnight to your dad. "You know someone has to keep our tradition alive when you’re in the hospital."
"You’re saying that like it’s my fault." The concern in his voice changed into irritation.
"Because it is." You chuckled, falling back down onto your soft pillows that were calling your name. "You weren’t standing on roller skates for… Gosh, I don’t think I ever saw you use them. What were you thinking?" You couldn’t help but scold him a little.
"You sound just like your mother." He mumbled in annoyance, and you knew he was rolling his eyes. "Isn’t she there with you, whispering in your ear what you’re supposed to say?"
"No, Mom is enjoying the free living room and is watching her stupid romantic TV shows." You told him, snitching on Mom. But that’s what she gets for taking over the living room and whooshing you away; just like Dad does to her when his favorite show is on the TV. "I’m in my bed preparing for the night, and you should too, Dad."
"Now you sound like my mother, and I don’t like that, Y/N." He said, and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips after his remark. "I’m not a baby anymore. I’m your parent. I should be the one telling you to go to bed."
"Yet you’re the one calling me at night, keeping me away from my beauty sleep." You had to tease him.
Who would you be if you didn’t tease your dad? And to be honest, he deserves it. He teases you all the time for small things, so when there is an opportunity for payback, you take it.
There was a moment of silence after you made your point. "Fair…" he admitted. "But I’m just worried. I don’t want you to go to the forest alone." His voice softened, and you knew it’s not the time to joke anymore.
"Dad, I’m not a kid anymore." You reminded him. "I can take care of myself." You mumbled.
You could have found his protectiveness annoying, but you didn’t feel that way. He is your father, of course he is going to be protective over you, his child, no matter the age.
It can get annoying—suffocating even—but that’s how it is. When your parents love you, they’re going to be protective. You are also protective over your parents, even if you don’t show it as much as they do.
"You are still to me, kid." His voice got even softer as he realized the truth in your words and just how fast the time was passing by.
A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you knew this was your dad’s way of telling you he loves you and cares for you. You would never catch him saying the words "I love you" explicitly—that privilege belongs to your mom only—but he would find different ways of showing it, or different words. And this was one of them.
While silence stretched between the two of you, neither of you cared. It felt right to stay quiet, even if there probably was more that could have been said. You could tell him back you love him, to let him know you understand the hidden meaning, but you knew it would only ruin the moment you had just shared. Instead, you found a different way of saying it back to him.
"I was actually planning to go on a walk to see and check out the new playground they built for the kids in the neighborhood." You told him your "I love you too" back.
Was it true? No. No, it wasn’t. You wanted to go on a walk in the forest as usual because you didn’t think too much about it; didn’t see it as a problem. But you respect your dad and his concerns for your well-being, so you just changed your plans.
"Oh, really? That’s good." You could hear the relief in his voice. "I hope you’ll send me a photo of how it looks, and maybe a selfie too." And just like that, everything went back to a playful tone.
"Okay, now you sound like Mom." You said, turning to lie down on your side. "Why do you need my selfie? You saw me a few hours ago before your surgery."
"But that was a few hours ago!" He whined. Sometimes you wonder who is worse: a little kid or your father. Not even you were like that. "And I know you won’t be visiting me tomorrow, so I want at least a selfie. It’s called compromise."
"I’m not sure if I would call it that. I think demand suits it better." You said, reaching into a drawer to fish out a charger as your phone vibrated against your ear.
You were pretty sure it’s the battery because you were going into this phone call with 20% left. Sorry, correction, your mom went into this phone call with 20% left on your phone. When Dad called you, she just snatched your phone right out of your hands to have another conversation with him.
Before he called you, he obviously called his wife first. He asked if she could pass the phone to you, but because you weren’t in the same room as your mom during their call, he gave you a separate call later.
Since anesthesia still dazed him, your dad took a nap. What he did not expect was for him to sleep for a few hours; that’s why he was now keeping you from your own rest. And because the call happened much later than the one with your mom, she wanted to talk to him again. Leaving your phone, after their endless conversation, at 10%.
You have no idea how they can still have such long conversations when they are together every day. Even with their jobs! One would think that they had discussed everything at this point. But no. There is still more for them to share with each other.
But not when you just want to go to sleep and your parents are keeping you awake because of that. You want to say goodnight to your dad!
"Okay, Dad." You had to hold back a yawn. You could feel your eyes water from that, so you blinked a few times to get rid of the tears. "I’m going to end. My eyes are closing on their own and my phone will die soon."
"Ah, I see," he said. "Sorry to keep you awake."
"It’s fine." You smiled even though he couldn’t see you. "Talk to you tomorrow?" You asked, knowing the answer was yes.
You leaned over the edge of the bed, reaching behind the nightstand so you could plug in the charger. When that was done, you lay back on the bed.
"I promise I will call you earlier." Your dad said half teasing you about being sleepy and half being mindful of the late hour.
"Thank you, I appreciate that."
You were ready to say goodbye, but your dad had something else on his mind that he needed to remind you of: "Don’t forget to send me the pictures!"
"Goodnight, Dad." You said, ending the phone call feeling no guilt.
Shaking your head, you plugged the charger into your phone, which you then left on the nightstand. You turned off the lamp, and now the only glow that was covering your room came from outside the window.
With a soft exhale, you finally settled under the warm covers you had kept waiting for way too long. You let your eyes fall closed, welcoming the darkness that lulled you to sleep and opened the doors to a dreamland.
You didn’t let the notification, followed by a vibration, distract you and your sleep. The message can wait until tomorrow, just like the person sending it. And to be honest, it’s probably your dad who just can’t let you sleep.
You turned to your other side, showing your back to the phone, and tried to fall back asleep. You would think it would be easy when just a second ago, you were tired to the point where your eyes were closing on their own. Oh, how wrong you were…
That beeping sound threw your mind off because no one should text you at this hour. At first, you assumed it’s your dad, but when thinking about it more, he had no reason to write you a message. Especially when he himself could hear how tired you are through the phone call. He might have done it just to mess with you in a playful banter, but you knew he isn’t evil enough to do that.
These thoughts were enough to send you on a trip through everyone you know who might text you right now. Obviously, that kept you awake much more than you would appreciate—and you didn’t want to be awake at all. Yet, you had your eyes closed, trying to force sleep to take over you.
Mind is a wonderful thing; they say…
You opened your eyes in defeat. "Fine." A loud, almost disappointed exhale escaped your lips.
You felt frustrated with yourself because you couldn’t let it be. It was a simple text message, not even a phone call. That message could have waited until tomorrow after you had some sleep. But no… you had to check your phone; otherwise the mysterious message from whoever decided it was a good idea to send one at this hour would drive you nuts.
You turned back to face the nightstand and reached for your phone. You brought it closer to your face, leaving it plugged into a charger, and unlocked your phone. Because the room was already dark, you had to squint your eyes for a moment to get used to the phone screen’s light.
When your tired eyes adjusted to the light—you had to turn down your brightness—you went straight to open up the Messages app. You were ready to open the new message, but your thumb hovered over the contact's name.
The bold letters pierced your mind. You even forgot to blink for a moment out of shock to see his name pop up on your screen. You felt your eyes water, but you weren’t sure if it was because of not blinking or because you were about to cry.
You waited so long for him to reply to you, to call you again. And now, when you were finally free of that hope you desperately clung to, that kept you miserable, he has the audacity to make his return into your life?
You were doing so well not thinking about him anymore, but that all collapsed like a house of cards. Your hands shook, your heart beat faster, and your breathing quickened as you stared at his name on your screen, thumb still hovering over it.
It felt like it was only yesterday that he stopped responding to any of your messages or phone calls. All those emotions rushed back, crushing you like a wave and threatening to consume you whole. The tears you shed for him now fell down your face again, and the heart that broke because of him now jumped in happiness in your chest.
But you knew better than to listen to your heart.
The screen on your phone dimmed before it darkened completely, locking the phone because you hadn’t been using it for a while. Now you were just staring at your own reflection, but you couldn’t move your gaze away or put the phone back down on the nightstand. Instead, your hand tightened around the phone.
You knew you should put the phone back and pretend like that didn’t happen—and put it on airplane mode, just to be safe so no more messages could haunt you. You knew you should delete the message first things first, right after you woke up. Even better, delete the message right now.
But you didn’t do any of these things.
Your heart was winning over your head.
To your heart, it didn’t matter that you felt hurt by him when he left without ever saying anything. Your heart rejoiced that he was back, forgetting that the same person once broke it.
Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a few deep breaths, calming your racing thoughts and heart. It helped with your heart, but your thoughts were already all over the place that you just had to suck it up.
"Damn it." You mumbled under your breath and opened your eyes again.
With a shaky hand, you unlocked your phone, and you faced Jiung’s contact name once again. But your thumb hovered over the message just like before.
"C’mon, Y/N." You whispered, encouraging yourself. "It’s like ripping off a band-aid. Though that would be easier…"
With a shake of your head, your thumb finally touched the screen, and your chat with Jiung opened up. So many unanswered messages popped up—a painful reminder of his disappearance.
'Maybe I should give him a taste of his own medicine,' you thought to yourself, but deep down you knew you could never do that. It was tempting and probably the best choice to make, but you had to know where he was the whole time, why he disappeared, and most importantly… if he is okay.
Your eyes move across the last few messages you’ve sent him until they stop on the new message from him.
"Meet me tomorrow at our special bench."
He doesn’t contact you for a month—no message, no call—and when he finally does, he is demanding to meet you? Does he expect you to jump right into his arms after all the pain he caused you? He must be out of his mind! Of course, he has to. Who just leaves without any trace and then comes back on a random night ordering you to meet him.
'Our special bench,' that made you the angriest. He has no right to call it that. Not anymore. Not after everything.
It was almost crazy how fast your emotions flipped from sadness and joy—even if you didn’t want to acknowledge that one emotion—to being furious and… maybe disappointed too.
"I can’t do this." You swiped down on the screen, tapped airplane mode, and then locked your phone.
You put the phone back on the nightstand, giving the poor device a chance to charge in peace. Then you lie down on your back, covering half of your face with your arm and letting out a long exhale.
This can’t be happening. There is no way he would message you as if nothing had happened and everything were all right. Like he hadn’t been missing for a month… You have to be so tired your mind is now playing tricks on you—how much you wish it was that case.
You would rather feel like you’re going insane than know the message is real, waiting for your response.
Moving your arm down from your face, you were now face to face with your ceiling, having an intense round of a staring contest. You were winning until you turned back to your starting position, which was on your side, followed by a loud groan of annoyance.
So much for having a proper sleep—or sleep at all.
The next day came, and you were already awake at 6 AM with little to no sleep. That’s why you almost gave your mom a heart attack when she entered the kitchen and saw you and your weary face eating cereal. She said you look like you were tossing and turning all night—in other words; you looked awful.
You just shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to linger on this conversation, and instead just confirmed her theory about tossing and turning. Also, you didn’t want to mention his name in front of her. Mentioning his name would only start an unwanted conversation, and you weren’t rested enough for that.
After your breakfast—which most of the cereal got just too soggy for your taste so they ended down the drain—you closed yourself in the bathroom, starting a necessary morning hygiene: brushing your teeth, washing your face, taming your hair and its nest. You know, the basics.
You even tried to do something with your face to look presentable, and lucky for you, splashing it with ice-cold water seemed to do the trick; it also helped you to feel more alive after the sleepless night. But the worst part? You couldn’t stop thinking about the message you received from him.
After you finished in the bathroom, you returned to your room and stood in front of your open wardrobe. Without giving it much thought, you settled for black sweatpants and a simple white shirt. You had no plans for today, except for going on a walk, so you didn’t feel the need to "dress up pretty".
Once you changed from your pajamas to today’s outfit, you unplugged your phone and slipped it into the pocket of your sweatpants. You also didn’t forget to grab your wallet and keys and add the items into the other pocket that was on the sweatpants.
You made a quick check that you hadn’t forgotten something before going into the hallway. There you put on some white sneakers, took a hoodie from a hook and wrapped it around your waist, and headed out. Of course not without saying goodbye to your mom—otherwise she would just run after you and smooch you all over your face while the entire neighborhood would watch.
Was it true? Nah, the neighbors wouldn’t care. But the last and only time it happened, it felt like everyone was watching from their windows, hiding behind the curtains as if that would make it any better. Since then, you make sure not to make the same mistake anymore and say goodbye to your mom.
Today was one of the last warm days. Just a few more left, and you’ll be welcoming snow. The sun was still getting up to its highest point in the sky—hence the early hour—and yet it was already warming your skin. But it was better to have a hoodie with you because the wind could get cold quickly, and you didn’t want to catch a cold.
As you promised your dad, you went to check out the new kids’ playground instead of going to the forest as you first intended. Now, thinking about it, you would have second thoughts about visiting the forest alone and would decide to go somewhere else either way.
Going for a walk at this hour was quite beneficial as no one was at the playground at the moment; you just passed by a few people walking their dogs, and that’s all. So you took that opportunity and went to sit on one of the swings that were there. You didn’t go too crazy with moving the swing, but you also didn’t remain still either.
While you were swinging back and forth, you looked around the playground. It wasn’t anything unusual: two swings, one big yellow slide leading straight into a sandpit, and your typical jungle gym that was a combination of metal pipes, ropes, and wooden structures. And of course, everything was bright and colorful.
But even with all the bright colors, you realize a playground without kids feels a little… sad. Yet, you appreciated that you’re here alone and have some time for yourself and time to think.
You must have been on the playground, lost in thought and swinging, for some time because kids with their parents crowded the place. That was your cue to leave.
You stopped the swing, and the moment you stood up, some kid was already trying to climb onto the seat. A small smile appeared on your lips, and you helped the kid to sit on the swing. The kid looked at you wide-eyed, surprised by his sudden seating. That look quickly turned into a wide grin, revealing one front tooth missing.
"Thank chu, nice stranger." Said the boy, the grin not leaving his face as he moved his legs, putting the swing in motion.
"You’re welcome." You smiled at the boy just as big; you couldn’t deny that his toothless smile was contagious.
While you were on your way from the playground, screams and laughter of kids following you, you remembered your dad wanted a picture. You turned to face the playground again, but there were just too many kids already playing around, and you weren’t comfortable with them being in a picture.
Instead, you settled only for the selfie he asked for too. You turned again, your back now facing the playground, and you pulled out your phone from a pocket of your sweatpants. Unlocking the phone, you tapped on the camera and switched to the front one. You raised your phone just enough and smiled, snapping a selfie—even capturing a little of the playground, which worked out perfectly.
You shared the selfie with your dad, explaining that there are too many kids for a complete shot of the playground by itself, and that you'll try tomorrow. After locking your phone, you slipped it back into your pocket and continued on your way home.
That’s where you thought you’re going.
At first, you were on the right path—the one that led to your house—but your legs had a mind of their own because you were now on your way to the park. You did not know what possessed you, but it had to be something, because you wouldn’t go there on your own. You were sure of that.
But even when you realized you’re going the wrong way, that you were going to actually see him, you didn’t stop. You could have done just that: stop, turn around and go home, like you intended to. And yet you kept going.
Nothing changed at the park; everything was the same except for the trees that were no longer green and the ground that was being covered in leaves. It felt weird to be back. Especially when everything that you experienced with Jiung came back, reminding you of all those feelings you tried to keep buried.
You thought the message yesterday messed you up, but being here was much worse.
But you didn’t have the time to pay attention to these feelings—you had to get to that bench. You walked faster, your heart raced, and your palms sweated.
Then the bench came into your view.
Your steps gradually slowed down until you stood still. You were still pretty far from the bench, but there was no one around. No one is looking for you or waiting for you.
You pulled your phone from the pocket, almost dropping it onto the concrete pavement in your hurry to check the message. You tapped on the Messages app, then on the chat with Jiung, re-reading the message.
"Meet me tomorrow at our special bench."
You checked the date you received the message. It was sent yesterday. That means you didn’t make a mistake and were here on the right date. And then you realized there was no time specified.
Have you already missed him? Perhaps you were here early, and he hasn’t arrived yet. Is he coming later?
Or maybe the reason he didn’t mention the time of the meeting at all is that…
No, you won’t think that. You may have known him for only three weeks, but he wouldn’t do something like this just to mess with you. He wasn’t a bad person.
He wasn’t a bad person, but he still left you.
"Ugh, why do I even care?!" you mumbled to yourself, frustrated with the situation, with yourself… with everything.
You slipped your already locked phone back into the pocket, tapping your foot against the concrete pavement. Was it out of nervousness? In impatience? Or was it straight-up anger? If you could take a guess, you would say a bit of everything.
Folding your arms over your chest, your foot kept its rhythmical movement against the pavement while you tried to clear your thoughts. All these emotions you were feeling at once made it hard to think, so you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, calming yourself and your thoughts.
Thank God no one else is here at the moment. They would probably debate if you hadn’t escaped from some mental facility.
After a moment of an unplanned breathing exercise, you opened your eyes again and immediately focused on the empty bench that still awaited your arrival. You could just leave; no one is here, and if Jiung arrives later when you’re long gone, it’s his fault for not specifying the exact time of your meeting.
You did what he asked. You came to meet him; it’s not on you for leaving right now. He should have double-checked his message, not you.
And yet, you stayed in the park; the bench moving closer and closer to you.
You furrowed your eyebrows and instinctively looked down. Clearly your legs had a mind of their own, once again, because you were walking closer to it. To the bench. On your own.
"Well," you exhaled. "I guess I’m waiting for him." You let your hands fall by your sides and kept going.
You didn’t hurry; there was no need for that, but you still caught yourself speeding your steps a few times. You had to force yourself to slow down every time that happened; you won’t be desperate to see him. Not again. Because part of you—the part you didn’t want to take the lead over your emotions—was way too excited about this whole meeting situation.
And you know how that ended last time. You weren’t willing to get burned again.
You stopped in front of the bench and sat down on it. Turning your head to the side, you realized you sat on the same spot you did when you first met Jiung. He was sitting on the right edge, just drawing in his sketchbook, and you were a nervous mess, not knowing how to start or keep the conversation going.
A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the memory of your first official meeting. Once you realized that, you shook your head, making the smile disappear. You need to keep these feelings and memories away because you’re setting yourself up for another heartbreak.
You leaned back against the backrest of the bench, letting out a loud exhale. "Please, Jiung, don’t disappoint me." You mumbled under your nose, looking around.
The hope of spotting him in the distance was still lurking at the back of your head, and with each second passing by it got even louder, which you didn’t understand. Shouldn’t it be the opposite? Shouldn’t reality hit you like a truck?
Or was it because on your second meeting you thought Jiung stood you up, and when you were on your way to leave, you saw him buying ice cream for you?
You really were desperate to believe he would show up. Clung to every reason your mind could come up with.
Lost in thoughts, you haven’t realized the time passing by, nor even the few people who went for a walk here in the park. That’s why you didn’t see the person coming closer to the bench, to you—but even if you did, you would have thought it’s just another person on a walk, and wouldn’t pay much attention to them.
You flinched at the voice that sounded very close to you. You quickly turn to the person to see who it is and also to make sure the person is talking to you. And—which you won’t admit—to see if it is perhaps Jiung.
"I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you." A woman’s voice.
Of course, it’s not Jiung.
Her expression softened, her brows knitting together in a look of quiet concern as she held her hands up, palms facing you in a nonthreatening way.
"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice gentle as if she were talking to a skittish animal.
It was an older woman, well… definitely older than you, but in fact, she could be around your parents’ age. But what immediately caught your attention was her facial features. They reminded you a lot of… No. It has to be your brain tricking you into seeing things.
"Eh… yeah." You gave her a nod, eyes darting down between her and the bench you were sitting on. "I’m… it’s fine."
"Okay." The woman slowly lowered her hands, and then she just stood there.
It looked like she wanted to say something, talk to you, but she hesitated. She was fiddling with a string of yarn that hung from her cardigan, which she wore to protect herself from a chilly breeze.
You looked around, lips sealed into a thin line with hands placed in your lap. The silence between the two of you was awkward. Who even was this woman, and why was she talking to you in the first place?
Not being able to stand the silence anymore, you turned back to her. "Is there something I can do for you?" You asked, trying to sound polite, but there was an edge to your voice.
Shouldn’t you be running and screaming for help instead of talking to her? Yes. But maybe she just needs help. She looks as lost as you in this awkward moment.
"Actually, yes." She said, taking a step closer. "But first, are you Y/N?"
Your eyes widened at her question. How does she know your name? You never saw this woman in your entire young life. Could she be friends with your parents? Definitely not a close one, because you remember those; even have the privilege of calling them aunt or uncle (but you stick to their names).
The woman didn’t let you finish your question. "My son." She said in a hurry, almost panicking.
"Your son?" You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn’t know this woman, so you had a hard time figuring out who her son might be. But apparently you know him.
"Yes," she nodded. "My son talks a lot about you. He is the one who told me to meet you here."
"I’m sorry." You swallowed out of nervousness. You could even feel your hands sweating, and you placed them palm down on your sweatpants so the fabric could absorb it. "Who is your son?"
Her saying his name out loud felt like someone poured cold water on you, making you freeze right where you were sitting on the bench. You felt as if your lungs had lost their air, and you weren’t sure if you could get it back.
"Jiung?" Your voice was a breathless whisper as you repeated his name, almost not wanting to believe it.
Funny how just a few minutes ago you were hoping to see him, to reunite again, but now, when his mother is standing just a few inches away from you, you feel… dread.
First, you don’t know if the woman is saying the truth; after all, she might just be some random woman doing some shady business, and you are her next target. But on the other hand, how would a random woman know you and your connection to Jiung? She would have had to be stalking you, and judging by her earlier nervous fidgeting, you doubted that’s the case.
Second, if this is his mother, and she is here to see you instead of Jiung himself… What happened to him? Is he okay?
"Yes, Jiung." She said, snapping you back to reality. The woman reached into her handbag, which you had just noticed, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "He told me to give you this."
She held her hand with the paper towards you, and you could see the paper shake in the air because of her trembling hand. You looked up at her, and all she did was give you a small, encouraging smile. Moving your eyes back onto the paper, you hesitantly reached out and took it from her hold.
"What is it?" You asked, looking back up at her. You could have unfolded the paper and seen for yourself, but there was something holding you back, and you couldn’t explain what it was or why.
If you could take a guess, you would say it’s a fear.
"Open it." Was all she said, but the soft tone of her voice made you feel uneasy. It wasn’t comforting, not in this situation; it felt more like you’re holding a letter with his last words.
Exhaling softly, your eyes flickered down as you unfolded the piece of paper. It wasn’t a letter, and that made your shoulders relax because that means Jiung hasn’t written a goodbye letter for you.
But you weren’t sure if what you saw was better or worse.
"Why did he want you to give this to me?" You asked, holding the paper up while looking at the woman.
"He wanted to give it to you himself."
"Then why didn’t he?" You raised your voice, almost shouting at this poor woman.
It was clear she was in distress, and this, whatever this is, is hard for her. It is not her fault. But you don’t know why she feels that way, and her answers aren’t that helpful either. She didn’t properly tell you why she is here or what’s going on with her son. Why now? What has changed for him to finally pick up his damn phone?!
Why do you even care? Jiung just disappeared one day without saying anything, so why should you bother? You should just rip the drawing of you into pieces and leave without ever turning back.
And even if you two didn’t know each other for that long—making you feel stupid for having such a strong reaction towards him—the feelings were real. You had something real going on with each other, and you hated that because it now made your heart ache.
You should never have approached him that day.
"Why didn’t he?!" you repeated yourself, hating how desperate you sounded; funny how you told yourself that’s exactly how you wouldn’t feel. Not for him.
The woman’s face softened into something that looked a lot like an understanding of your sudden outburst, but there was also a hint of sadness glinting in her eyes.
"He is at the hospital." She said, "he has been there for a month now."
You felt your heart sink at her words. Eyes wide, just staring at her with mouth slightly ajar as if you were ready for a gasp, but your body changed your mind halfway through the process.
Jiung is at the hospital.
Your eyes fell back onto the paper you were still holding—onto the pencil drawing of you smiling. You had a feeling it’s one of the drawings he didn’t let you see when you were looking through his sketchbook one time. The paper was crumpling under the tight squeeze your fingers were having on it. The drawing blurred as your eyes welled with tears and slipped down your cheeks.
These words repeated in your head over and over again.
"Why didn’t he tell me anything?" Your voice was barely above a whisper. If you spoke louder, you would break down.
The woman, Jiung’s mother, heard your question, and maybe she wanted to answer you, but she remained silent, just standing there as some kind of support. But you didn’t care. The question was more for you than for her to answer anyway.
"I need to see him." You said, turning your head towards her. "Please, I really need to see him."
She looked conflicted for a moment, probably debating whether she should take you to him or not. Maybe he told her not to bring you there, or maybe she didn’t want that. But that wasn’t important. You needed to see him, and you wouldn’t back down.
"Of course." She agreed in the end. She knew it’s the right thing, and that it’s what you deserved.
The walk to the hospital was… quiet; the only thing making noise was the outside world. You walked silently next to Jiung’s mother, and she wasn’t saying anything either. Both of you had a lot to say, but neither of you knew where to start or how to. The only thing that was clear was what you two would talk about, and that was Jiung.
The silence accompanied the two of you until you were inside the hospital. There it was much busier than it was on the streets: doctors and nurses complaining about their shifts, outpatients talking over each other to grab someone’s attention, and inpatients waiting for their examination. And even through so many people, the smell of disinfectant was prominent there, almost overpowering.
Jiung’s mom led the way to the elevator, pushed the button, and surprisingly, within seconds it arrived. A few people stepped out, but only you two got in; at least you don’t have to squeeze between other people.
Once inside, she pushed a button for the fifth floor. Your eyes wandered to the board on the right side of the elevator, which explained what you could find on each floor. On the fifth floor were in bold words printed: Critical Care / ICU. You bit your bottom lip, taking a sharp breath through your nose.
You quickly looked away from the board when your chest tightened, your eyes fixed on your shoes. If he is here, that means something serious had happened to him, and all you did was being mad at him for leaving you. Blame him for your not properly broken heart.
Well, you got what you wished for.
Now your heart is broken. Just in a different way than you were hoping for.
But you were sure a real heartbreak would have been much better than this…
Guilt sat heavily on your shoulders, so much that you could swear you felt them sink down under the pressure. You felt horrible, and you had a sickening feeling that you wouldn’t be getting rid of these emotions any time soon. If ever.
Questions were popping up in your head one after the other, almost making your head hurt from how much was going on up there in your brain.
Was it something serious?
Has he been fighting something for a long time?
Why didn’t he tell you anything sooner?
Why did he contact you just now?
An answer to that question showed up right before your eyes, clear as day, but you weren’t ready to acknowledge it. Not yet, maybe never. You were about to have Jiung back in your life; you didn’t want to think that it might be just because you were about to lose him. And this time… it would be for good.
The elevator’s loud ding pulled you back to reality. But even if the questions stop running through your head, they are still there. Lurking. Waiting.
You followed Jiung’s mom out of the elevator and moved as close to her as you could to not make it uncomfortable. The hallway was quite dark, the fluorescent light dimly lit, but the thing that made this whole ICU wing eerie was the silence. Yes, you could hear some faint beeping and movement, but it was coming only from behind closed automatic doors. The hallway was otherwise quiet, without a single person.
Jiung’s mom stopped in front of one of these automatic doors and rang the bell on the intercom to alert the nurses of your arrival. While she handled that, you looked up. There, above the automatic doors, was a whiteboard with printed red text: RCU - Respiratory Care Unit.
Well, that answers one of your questions. Not fully, but at least you know what might be happening to him, and that it’s very serious.
The door suddenly opened—you were again so lost in thought that you didn’t hear her talk to the nurse through the intercom—you waited for Jiung’s mom to enter first before you did the same. Immediately, the beeping sounds and alarms of machines intensified in their volume.
The door closed behind you, making you turn to it for a second before you looked back at Jiung’s mom, who was pumping a generous amount of hand sanitizer from a bottle that was attached to the wall right by the door. Once she stepped aside, you did the same thing without a question; you guessed it had to be one of the rules here.
You confirmed your guess when you saw a sticker above the bottle on the wall that explained why you have to sanitize your hands, with some pictures showing how to do it properly. It reminded you a lot of your time in kindergarten, where above every sink was a poster with pictures of how to wash your hands.
Oh, how much you wished this was just a kindergarten.
Jiung’s mom waited for you to sanitize your hands, and then she led you to a room where there were two yellow gowns and medical masks waiting for you.
"We need to wear this for Jiung’s safety." She explained, looking at you for a moment before she reached for one of the gowns and dressed in it.
You only nodded, not being able to say a word. It was hard for you to wrap your head around all of this, and the guilt was still nagging you and eating you inside. So, even if you would want to say anything, there is a high chance your mouth would just hang open. No words coming out.
Swallowing a sudden lump forming in your throat, you took the second gown and put it on over your clothes. Jiung’s mom had already fully dressed in the required attire, so you hurried up and reached for the mask. But before you could put it over your face, Jiung’s mom placed a gentle hand on your arm.
You turned to her, eyebrows raised in question. She pulled down her mask, letting it sit under her chin so she could talk and you would properly understand her. But in this quiet room—the quietest in this whole ward—you doubted there would be any difficulty in understanding her words.
"Before we go in," she started, her voice shaking a little, but she tried very hard to tame it. "You should know what his condition is."
You looked into her eyes for a long moment before you gave her a slow nod of confirmation. You also turned your body fully towards her so she knew she had your full attention.
She let go of your arm, taking a deep breath, bracing herself for what she was about to say. Funny, because you were silently bracing yourself to hear her words too.
"Jiung has a combination of long-term lung conditions that have followed him since he was born." She finally said. "It was okay most times, nothing that my boy couldn’t handle," a tiny smile appeared on her lips before it fell. "But then he had serious issues, complications were coming one after the other, and… he had to stay permanently in hospital."
She exhaled loudly, her shoulders slumping down, and you could see tears shimmer in her eyes. But she blinked them away, clearing her throat.
"It wasn’t easy, as you can imagine," she continued. "It was… it was a lot for me and Jiung, and then his father…" she paused, an awkward chuckle escaping her lips. "Sorry, that is not important."
She didn’t have to say it, but you understood her unspoken words immediately; his father left them because he couldn’t handle it. And it all fell on this poor woman who tried to be strong for her son. Looking at her now, you noticed the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights and stress.
Your heart broke for her; you felt for her. And yet, you knew that what you feel is only a tiny part of what she must be going through.
You wanted to say something, give her some words of solace, but… you felt like it wouldn’t mean anything to her coming from you. From a person who doesn’t understand all the pain and loss she experienced in her life, and is still experiencing.
"Jiung could leave the hospital every day for some time," she continued once more. "It was his only escape. That, and his drawings." Another small smile appeared on her face.
As she mentioned his drawings, your hand instinctively rested on the front pocket of your sweatpants where you had the drawing you received from her. It had to be folded a few times, which you didn’t feel that good about, but you had nowhere else to put it, so a few creases had to do it.
Jiung’s mom noticed your hand movement, her eyes softening. "Then he met you." She looked into your eyes. "He told me about you the first day you finally sat next to him. His words, by the way." She chuckled.
That sound—and her words—made a smile tug at the corner of your lips. She was now talking about more than Jiung’s state, but you didn’t care. You didn’t stop her. She needed to say it as much as you needed to hear it.
She wiped a tear that escaped her eye and cleared her throat again before continuing. "I never saw him this happy. I swear you made him forget about his lung conditions." And another small smile was on her lips. "He was also very excited to meet your dad. He was talking about how he was going to invite him for an ice cream to win him over, but…"
Your chest tightened uncomfortably yet again, deepening your guilt. He was excited to meet your dad and wanted to buy him ice cream. Her words made your own eyes glisten, and you had to look down to compose yourself before you could face her again.
"His condition got worse?" You said it as a question, but it was an obvious statement; of course his condition got worse, otherwise he wouldn’t be here.
Jiung’s mom nodded. "He got pneumonia the night you messaged him about spending the day with your dad and moving the official meeting to the day after." She explained. "And that, with the combination of his other lung problems, got him here with acute-on-chronic respiratory failure."
"Is he going to be okay?" The question came out of you immediately while you were searching her eyes for an answer before she could say it herself.
"This time," she paused, swallowing. "I’m… I’m not sure."
You only nodded, taking a deep breath. This… this was hard to hear, and you couldn’t imagine how hard it must be for her. You were just his friend for barely a month, but she is his mother. She has already lost so much.
"I’m sorry." You said, voice barely above a whisper, while you couldn’t hide your trembling bottom lip.
Jiung’s mom’s face softened even more, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she opened her arms for you. For a stranger. But you weren’t that to her. No, she saw you as her son’s way to happiness and comfort.
You didn’t hesitate and ran into her arms, hugging her tightly. She wrapped her arms gently around your back and soothingly stroked over it up and down.
"It’s okay." She whispered, her breath ruffling your hair. "We… we just need to be here for him." She said, and you could hear where her voice cracked at the end.
But she still stayed strong, just like you. Though she was keeping it together much better than you were. She wasn’t lying when she said it was a lot. It was. And you were only hearing the story from her; she has to live through it every single day. Just like Jiung.
"C’mon," she pulled away, her hand moving to push a strand of hair away from your forehead. "I think seeing you will do him good."
As an answer, you gave her another nod while taking a deep breath. She gave you an encouraging smile before she let you go and then fixed her mask back over her face. Thanks to that, you remembered your own mask and quickly put it over your face too.
You two exited the room and together walked down the hallway to its very end, where Jiung’s mom stopped. There was a big window to look inside, but the curtains were blocking the view for privacy. Which was understandable, but it also saved you a few more seconds to grab all the courage that was left in you to face him.
Jiung’s mom opened the door and let you go in first. You took a deep breath and stepped inside. First, you looked around the room, buying even more time for yourself—or maybe you were just trying to avoid looking at him for as long as you could.
The room was simple: white walls, with a faded blue line drawn consistently in the middle through all the walls, a window with a view of the road, a metal table pushed to the corner, two plastic chairs without back rest and all kinds of beeping machines. A lot of them.
Just your typical hospital room.
Then, your eyes fell onto the bed. On him.
Jiung was peacefully sleeping, even though all the noise, not just from his room, but also from the neighboring rooms, surrounded him. He looked completely normal lying there. Well, almost. He had various wires and an IV drip attached to his body and…
And a clear mask that covered his mouth and nose. Lower straps running over his jaw and upper straps across his forehead strapped the mask to his face, making it stable and preventing it from moving. To the mask was attached a tube which had its other end connected to the machine that helped him breathe and was making the most noise in the room.
"You can sit by his bed," his mother said in a hushed voice. "If you want to, of course." She added quickly, not wanting to pressure you into anything.
Once again, you nodded—or at least you thought you did. Your body was stuck to the laminated floor, and your gaze was stuck on him.
"He sleeps a lot, but he should wake up soon." She spoke more. It almost felt like she was trying to fill the room with something different from the sounds of the machines, with something more lively.
This time you were sure you didn’t react, but Jiung’s mom didn’t notice; she was already moving one chair closer to the bed. You thought it was for her, but she didn’t sit down. Instead, she turned to you, her brows furrowed in concern.
"Yeah?" You looked at her. "Sorry, I…" you couldn’t finish your sentence; you didn’t know how because your brain couldn’t think properly.
She shook her head, taking a step closer to you. "It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize." She said, "But… are you sure you're okay? You don’t have to be here if it’s too much." Her voice was so kind, you felt like you didn’t even deserve it. Not after everything you blamed Jiung for.
If he just told you he is sick, or something! You would be there for him and his mother.
Or did he not tell you because he thought it would be better if you hated him? So when he is gone it wouldn’t… hurt as much.
"No, I’m…" You swallowed. "I’m fine. Just… lost in thought. Sorry."
Jiung’s mom only nodded. She could see you’re not fine, but she didn’t press any further. It was up to you whether or not you wanted to stay, and you decided to stay.
"Okay," she breathed out. "Will you be okay being alone here? I have to see his doctor."
"Ehm, sure." You said, but not even you trusted your words. "Yeah."
She gave you another nod, told you some more instructions, and then left. Leaving you alone with Jiung.
You stood on the same spot for a moment longer. Then you took a deep breath and slowly made your way to the chair Jiung’s mom set up for you. You sat down by his bed and just stared at his hand.
His mom told you that you could touch him, hold his hand, but you were scared you would hurt him. He looked so fragile just lying there. You could even swear he had lost a significant amount of weight, losing his adorable cheeks that reminded you a lot of a hamster.
But it was still your Jiung.
The one you fell in love with.
You took a shaky breath, your bottom lip trembling at the force of your tears that you could no longer hold back. Then, with little to no courage, you carefully grabbed his hand, enveloping it between your palms.
"Why did you keep this from me?" You whispered, turning your head toward him. "No, you had to let me be mad at you. For something you can’t even control." You shook your head, squeezing his hand just a little.
You knew he couldn’t hear you, but it was much easier to talk to him when he was still asleep. Because once he wakes up, you’ll be by his side telling him that everything is going to be okay, and not nagging him for leaving without any trace, any word. He might not believe your words, but you’ll always be here to remind him how strong he is and how far he has already come.
"Well, I’m telling you now that you won’t get rid of me this easily. Not again." You sniffled. "I’ll be right here and annoy you until you will have no other choice but to get better, so you can shut me up with an lemon ice cream."
You spoke with a small smile on your face that soon turned upside down as you broke into quiet sobs.
"Just please," you rested your forehead against his hand. "Don’t leave me."
Now it’s his turn to fight.
