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So the thing that was bad about the situation was that none of Sunghoon’s friends or family were close enough to reach the hospital by the time he was out of surgery. Well, okay, there were other things that were bad about the situation but he was choosing not to focus on them because it was easier to lament about the whole dying (he wasn’t dying) alone (he wasn’t alone; we’ll get to that) thing than to continue trying to beam energy into his splinted wrist in an effort to magically heal it quicker than the forecasted eight to ten weeks.
Anyway, the being not-alone. By all means he was meant to be alone – actually, by all means he was meant to have his loving parents and friends surrounding him and weeping over him in his last moments (again: not dying). But that wasn’t possible because his parents were randomly in New Zealand on holiday, and his Jake was in Australia having the audacity to visit family, and his Heeseung… Okay, Sunghoon didn’t know where Heeseung was. Some transient space that he and only he somehow knew how to access. Or wherever it was he went when he wasn’t answering his phone. So, he was meant to be alone. But he wasn’t.
There was an irritating man sitting by his bedside where Sunghoon was probably supposed to be trying to come to peace with his own mortality, or something. Which he couldn’t do because the man was being irritating. Sunghoon barely knew the guy, really, being much more well-acquainted with the fender of his car.
Sunghoon peeled one eye open (he had been trying to meditate) and huffed. “Can you stop talking about homeopathic medicine?”
The place they were in (not a room – Sunghoon was neither injured nor important enough for a room. Two curtain partitions was all he got) was sort of cramped and so the guy’s knees were jammed up against the edge of Sunghoon’s cot and Sunghoon could smell his breath from all the way over here. Not that his breath was bad, per se, but he had very tellingly had kimchi in the last couple hours or so, and it was making Sunghoon really really hungry.
The guy paused in place, finger lifted in the air, mouth open. He shut it, probably once he realized he looked stupid like that. “I just wanna help! I feel bad, okay?” The man – Jay, Sunghoon should start calling him by his name – Jay somehow looked both dejected and indignant at once.
Okay, now Sunghoon felt kinda bad. And that wasn’t fair. He was the one that got hit by a car! Maybe it was a little bit his fault, but only a little. A quarter maybe. Third. Maybe he was equally at fault. That wasn’t the point at all and didn’t matter.
“If you want to help then get me some food.” Sunghoon demanded. He was being a little rude but also his arm hurt a lot, kinda. The painkillers were actually doing a lot of heavy lifting. “Or take me out to eat. I think I’m getting discharged soon.”
Jay’s eyebrows rose. Wow. Impressive and pointy arch. “Are you asking me out?”
Was that what it sounded like? Well, he wasn’t opposed. Vehicle-induced blunt force trauma aside, the guy wasn’t… bad looking. Or anything. And it was easy to be irritated by his endless word-vomit when he was here but if he gave it even one second of thought it wasn’t hard to realize that if Jay hadn’t been here with him the whole experience would be a lot more depressing. Which balanced out the car thing in Sunghoon’s mind.
“I don’t know,” Sunghoon said evasively. “Maybe.” These painkillers really were something.
“Man, I hit you with my car.”
Sunghoon shrugged, and then winced, because that hurt a little. His ribs, though not broken, were sort of tender. “It’s not like – I mean, you didn’t do it on purpose.”
Jay squinted at him long enough to make him start to feel self-conscious. Was it really that crazy? He didn’t think it was. People met in crazier ways all the time.
“Yeah, sure,” Jay said eventually, face relaxing into something less scrutinizing. “Where do you want to go?”