"Just have a seat," the ward guard instructed, and Hyungwon slowly set himself down in the metal folding chair. "Your visitors will be let in on the other side in a moment. You'll have half an hour to visit with them, although you don't have to use the full time allotment if you don't want to. You'll be talking with them over the phone - all you have to do is pick it up and it'll automatically connect. And when you're ready to leave, you can just hang the phone up, and your session will end. Do you have any questions?"
"Um..." Hyungwon's brain was still lagging behind a bit, his surprise overwhelming him temporarily. "Is...will our conversation be...recorded? Will Dr. Irving be listening?"
"We have a camera in each room for safety purposes, and I'll be in the room with you at all times to monitor the session, but none of the medical staff will pull the footage unless I believe your health has been threatened or if there is any content that could help improve your condition."
"Oh..okay," Hyungwon said. Of course there would be cameras. Where did he think he was?
"Are you ready to begin your visitation session?"
"I- yes," Hyungwon said, his eyes skittering around the edges of the room.
"You have the option to refuse if you wish," the guard said more gently. "Nobody's forcing you to see them."
"No, it's...it's fine. They're my parents. They love me," Hyungwon said, but the words came out sounding so hollow and contrived that even the guard didn't bother arguing with Hyungwon, just held a walkie talkie up to his lips with the dark gleam of pity in his eyes.
"You can send them in now. He's ready."
Hyungwon watched anxiously as the door on the other side opened, and his parents came in. He watched as his mother took a second to survey the room, scanning the sides and ceiling before setting her eyes on Hyungwon last. His father followed her in, giving the room a brief but disinterested once-over before sitting down in one of the chairs.
His mother took the seat nearest the phone.
Hyungwon had figured as much. Hoped otherwise, but expected it anyway.
She picked up the phone and stared at him with expectation shining in the sharp angles of her face and in the flatness of her eyes.
Hyungwon paused before picking up the phone, holding it in his hand a moment before bringing it close to his ear, but not so close that it kissed his skin.
Neither of them talked for a moment. Hyungwon wondered how many minutes had gone past. One? Two?
Twenty-nine?
Was that too much to hope for?
"Hyungwon," she finally said, understanding that he would not be the one to initiate the conversation.
He remained silent. Hyungwon was his name, not one he'd given himself, and it didn't demand a response. Not theoretically, at least. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a two-part statement-
"Hyungwon," she repeated, her painted fingernails tightening on the phone, her tone dark and demanding.
"Yes?" Hyungwon responded. It was funny how in just two weeks away from them, he'd forgotten a seemingly obvious fact. 'Hyungwon' always warranted a response; it may have been his name (by coincidence) but it was a leash and, when tugged, it demanded that he bark.
Just how high am I expected to jump? he had to wonder before mentally berating himself for asking such an insolent question. They were his parents; they had raised him, and they deserved his respect.
Some would have said that they deserved love, but that had never been a priority in the Chae household, just as it was money rather than happiness that drove the world onward day by day.
"You're not going to greet us?" she asked. Only with her, it was never asking; it was demanding, silently but strongly.
"Hello Mother, Father," Hyungwon said. He remembered the hands at his throat, suffocating him. He preferred the physical hands, he thought.
