BOSOM. |Bang Chan

Four.

Alana was an overthinker.

Actually, overthinking was all she could do while stirring in her bed for long hours. She never sleeps like normal people. She never needs to sleep. Her body was strangely functioning well without rest, and when she gets super tired, an hour of sitting down in a comfy armchair would be enough for her to re-energize. That's why Alana was perfect for night shifts.

When Alana received her mail about being allocated at one of the main hospitals in Seoul, hours away from home, Alana just shrugged it off. She didn't even think of getting accommodation there in Seoul. She thought of traveling to and from the hospital every day, which was ridiculous. But Alana didn't think it was. She thought it would be a good way to spend her time traveling since she doesn't sleep. Luckily, her parents declined her idea and insisted on getting a dorm or something in Seoul for her internship stay there.

Alana wasn't born sleep deprived. She used to be normal, but as the world turned upside down, her world turned too. She just woke up that day, and she didn't go to sleep again. She couldn't. She needn't. And that's how she found her way to medical school. Instead of sleeping, she would study.

Alana would surely close her eyes. She also would doze off occasionally, but she never falls into something deeper than slumbers, even if she intends to.

"Now what?" She questioned. She threw her head back down as she huffed out of frustration. "It's been days already and I didn't see the face of this Dr. Kim. Does he even work here?"

Alana was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the Lost Prince's room. She's been doing that for days now since she was assigned to that unique patient. She was told that Dr. Kim would stop by to give her the needed instructions and start her training, but that never happened. It was already strange that she was assigned to that case. She was still an intern in her first month, and that case was complicated.

Alana heard some gossip here and there about Dr. Kim and how he is not very fond of his work. Apparently, he gets pretty bored from dealing with the sleeping ones. There was nothing to do around them and Alana learned that the hard way.

She, too, was bored.

Alana stood up and walked to the window to watch what the street looked like after midnight in Seoul. Very different from the quiet neighborhood back home. Seeing hardly any snow left on trees and pavements, she sighed. "Looks like the winter will be gone soon and I'll have to let go of the turtlenecks."

Alana turned and walked back to the armchair but instead of sitting again to it, she pushed it to the bed in the middle of the room. She adjusted the chair to the bed's right before she plops down on it.

"It's not like I do like turtlenecks. Actually, they suffocate me. But they are the simplest way to avoid eyes gawking at my neck." She inched closer to the soundly sleeping man, propped her arms on the bed, and rested her head on her palms. "I'm not fond of attention. And I don't want to be rude if they start asking about my mark." She sighed and then leaned back, throwing her arms in the air. "I mean, why would people ask questions about the obvious? I know my mark doesn't look normal! What's even normal in this world? Pfft." She scoffed.

Alana leaned on the armrest. She held her head over her left palm. Her eyes stopped at the Lost Prince's face. Although the room was dimly lit, she still could see his features clearly.

He's a prince indeed, she thought.

He's got a pretty pale smooth skin that made her wonder if he always had that trait, or if that was just the side effect of sleeping in a clean humid shady environment for years. The moonlight coming through the window on his left, reflected on his face, showing how prominent his nose was. Although his lips looked pale, they seemed to be squishy.

Alana felt a pang in her chest. It didn't settle well with her that someone had to sleep that long. She was frustrated with the idea of how that lost prince had to miss his teenage years and early adulthood. It was, even more, agitating that he had no identity. The Lost Prince was not only a nickname for that patient. He was really lost.

When he was sent to this hospital nine years ago, he had no ID. His fingerprints were scarped and his DNA wasn't identified. They couldn't find a family photo or a friend's number in his belongings. His phone was nowhere to be found. The only thing they could retrieve was the broken camera placed on his nightstand.

"I wonder if your family is looking for you." Alana mumbled.

Alana wanted to reach out and pat his rhythmically rising and falling chest, or to caress his soft wavy dark brown hair. She felt like he needed comfort. Her right hand moved to his chest, and as she wished, she started patting it softly as if she was lulling a baby.

"I'm sorry that all you have now is me. I'm not experienced and I don't know where to start with you. I don't know if I even have to start or do anything." She sighed, pushing the heavy air out of her lungs. "But I want to. I want to see you wake up. I want to listen to your story. I'm curious about your voice. I'm curious about the color hiding underneath those eyelids-" Alana paused once she felt the familiar tingling running through her mark. Her hand moved to her covered neck to rub it as if it would relieve the feeling. She sighed once the irritating tingling stopped on its own. Her hand, again, reached for the patient's chest warmly. She leaned closer, bringing her lips close to his ear to whisper. "And surely, I'm dying to know your name."