attention | gyuricky

thirteen.

When he reawakens, there's a fuzzy quality that tinges everything he sees and hears and he feels like he's just come back from death, which technically isn't that far off from the truth. He can tell he's in a hospital, considering the walls are white and blue and the bed under him isn't very comfortable and there's a faint beeping coming from everywhere around him, but he has no recollection of how he got here or even left the supply room.

A passing nurse notices him waking up and presses a bell to call a doctor over, and someone in scrubs comes over to tap on the heart monitor machine beside his gurney. "Hello, I'm Dr Lee. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Gyuvin answers. His voice comes out raspier than he expects. He can't tell if it's because of whatever happened earlier, or simply because he's been out cold long enough without drinking water his throat's just dry. "What happened to me?"

"Are you aware of any allergies you might have?" Dr Lee asks softly, pressing gloved fingers gingerly against his neck.

"No. Was that an allergic reaction?"

"From what we could tell, it seems you're severely allergic to turpentine," he continues. "Did you come into contact with something liquid right before you lost consciousness?"

"Yeah," Gyuvin recalls, closing his eyes as the stark hospital lighting begins to hurt to look at. "I spilled a bottle of something and it smelled really bad. Is that it?"

"That was probably turpentine you spilled," the doctor says. "You'll have to be more careful around it from now on, and you'll need to carry an epinephrine pen at all times. You probably hit something when you fell, because your right wrist is fractured pretty badly."

Gyuvin becomes aware of a fresh, white cast weighing down the bed to his right, and he groans. "That's gonna be a pain."

The doctor smiles, sympathetic. "Your allergic reaction was really severe. Honestly, it's a miracle you're still alive."

"Yeah about that," Gyuvin interjects. "How did I get here anyway?"

"Someone called an ambulance and did CPR on you. You're lucky he knew how to do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and did it properly, actually. You should thank him, he's sitting outside."

"Can you ask him to come in? My head's spinning, I don't think I'll be able to walk."

"Of course. The nurse will be back with some water for you in a minute."

The doctor closes the door on the way out and Gyuvin can hear, through the door, the muffled sound of someone talking. He wonders who it is that helped him, if it hadn't been Ricky; it had been late, almost past eleven, and most of the building had already been empty, as he'd seen while walking from the studio to the supply room. He hadn't seen any sign of anyone still being around.

The door opens again and Ricky walks into the room, dressed in a pullover and sweatpants, hair clearly unstyled and falling into his eyes. Gyuvin half surprised and half not, racking his brain for something to say; he hadn't imagined calling on Ricky to save him would land him in an awkward situation like this, but then again it wasn't like he'd had the luxury of options, he'd been dying.

"You kissed me?"

"I gave you mouth to mouth, don't be fucking crazy," Ricky answers, rolling up one of his sleeves, a nervous habit probably, from the way he lets it fall back down immediately after. He sits down on one of the chairs next to the gurney, leaning down, covering his face, so all Gyuvin can see from the gurney is his golden hair.

"Thanks for saving me."

Ricky doesn't look up. "Couldn't you have been more careful? It was so late, and you were alone. You would've died if you were there much longer."

"What's it to you?" Gyuvin returns, immediately defensive. "Why do you care what happens to me? I thought you'd be delighted if I'd died."

The other boy sighs. "Forget it."

Gyuvin squints, trying to make sure he's seeing straight. Is it just the residual bad vision from losing oxygen to his brain, or do Ricky's eyes look somewhat red?

"Were you...crying?"

Ricky turns away, heading for the door. "No."

"Wait!"

His hand freezes on the door handle, and Gyuvin keeps talking. "Thank you for saving me, I mean it. I'm sorry I took up your time."

The other boy is silent, as if he's weighing his words in his head. "Get better soon, I'm going now."

The door closes with a quiet click, and the room is silent again, interrupted only by the faint beeping from his heart monitor and the sound of hushed voices occasionally passing by outside his door.

His mind is spinning; so Ricky had found him at the supply room in time, given him CPR and called an ambulance. He'd even followed the ambulance all the way to the hospital and waited around till Gyuvin had woken up, even though a quick glance at the clock told him it was almost four in the morning.

Another thought occurs to him: his right wrist is fractured, which means it'll be in a cast for the better part of the next two months at least.

How am I going to do any of my projects? The one I'm working on is due in two weeks' time, and there's another in five weeks...

He'd have to worry about getting extensions from his teachers later. There was no way they could turn him down with a fractured wrist, right? Gyuvin makes the ironic belated realisation that it's a good thing he was at the studio last night. At least this way he's almost done with his model and has less to catch up on while he's out of action.

Whatever painkiller they must have given him when they admitted him begins to wear off by the minute, and Gyuvin can feel the light, throbbing pain coming back in his wrist where it's bound by the cast. It's an irritating feeling to have his arm movement constricted, but he supposes it's for the better. In the meantime, the pain level has risen enough for him to press the call bell to get a nurse, and as they administer a fresh dose of painkillers and the aching in his wrist ebbs away, he lets his eyes close and he drifts off back into the emptiness.