"When you get a new heart, will I still be in there?" She says, barely a whisper. "Will I still be in that heart?"
"You're not just in my heart," Jeongguk replies truthfully. "You're in the blood flowing through my veins, you're in my mind, you're u...
"You are young, and in love," said Primus. "Every young man in your position is the most miserable young man who ever lived."
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I'm losing her.
That's the only thing Jeongguk can think of as the nurses and paramedics park the truck in the parking lot and take her out. They hurry through the double doors, the wheels of Yerim's stretcher and Jeongguk pounding footsteps the only thing he can hear.
He's clutching her hand. Has been ever since they left the restaurant. Even when the paramedics were lifting her up, he didn't want to let go. As if, if he let go she'll fall away and disappear.
"Sir, you can't follow them," the receptionist stops him with a manicured hand and that's when his hand finally slips from Yerim's. His heart sinks from his chest as the stretcher disappears from his view.
He's suddenly reminded of the expensive object in his pocket and pulls it out. It's glistening under the lights. A ring with a little star on top. He'd been reciting it all day before they left for the banquet. Planned to give it to her on her birthday as a promise. He clutches the ring in his hand. So hard it might leave marks on his palm.
"Why?" is all he can choke out, as his mind fills with the possibilities of all the horrible outcomes, each worse from the last. At a loss for what to do with the poor boy, the other nurses left him there, glancing occasionally back over their shoulders at him.
"Medical procedures," The woman answers in a clean and professional tone before gesturing towards the seats at the side. But Jeongguk does not hear that.
He sinks to the ground, hard on his knees on the cold tiles of the hospital floor. He buries his face in the palms of his trembling hands. And he cries.
That's when he feels his heart hurting the most. And this time that pain is unbearable.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
He's sketching.
Yerim's eyes, her nose, her mouth, her hair, her little dimples. Everything he remembers about her. He draws tiny little stars in her eyes, emphasizing the vast universe within. He draws even the littlest details; her scars, the way her eyebrows furrow slightly when she's laughing, the little splits on her lips.
It's the first time he's poured this much emotions out onto a piece of artwork. Now he understands how Yerim's talent has come to be; Art was amazing, art was beautiful. But even more mesmerising when it came by her hand.
When Jeongguk hears that Yerim is being returned to her room, he rushes out of his own, leaving books and paper and pencils strewn out on his bed. He trips over his own feet and the edge of his hospital gown in the hallway but continues forward at the same pace after regaining his footing. He hears a few people behind him snickering at his carelessness but he ignores them all. This isn't what matters. What matters is that Yerim is back. She's alive.
