Cruel Preparations (2)

Ahyeon collapsed right in front of me.

I ran to her at once.

"Hey... you okay?"

I crouched over her where she lay sprawled across the pavement. Her eyes were barely cracked open. Her mouth worked at the air, shoving out breaths that came too hot and too hard. And the heat coming off her — it was fierce, radiating through her clothes.

She had a fever. She had to.

"Hah... hah... hah..."

She couldn't answer me. All she could manage were those ragged, drowning gasps, each one sounding like it might be the last she had in her. I tried to get her on her feet, but there was nothing left in her body to hold itself up. She kept folding sideways, slumping out of my hands.

This wasn't going to work.

No — this really wasn't going to work. I hoisted her onto my back. Lifting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a person gone completely limp is harder than it sounds, but I hauled her up anyway, step by stubborn step, and carried her off the running path toward the main road.

"A hospital... the closest one."

I ran through the nearby clinics in my head and immediately realized none of them would be open. It was barely past seven. Regular hours ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wouldn't start until nine at the earliest.

Which left the emergency room.

"Jinho... hah..."

Ahyeon called my name from my back, the sound thin and pleading. Her arms hung slack over my shoulders, dangling against my chest, and the dead weight of them did something awful to me. It felt like she was backing me into a corner I couldn't think my way out of. My own heart started slamming against my ribs. Cold sweat sprang up along my neck.

"I-it's okay. Yeah. You'll be fine in a minute."

I couldn't keep my voice steady. All I could do was ramble at her like that, saying whatever came out. The truth was, I was scared. I had never watched someone just drop like that before.

I wandered the street in that daze, knowing I needed an emergency room and knowing I had no idea where the nearest one was. I didn't trust my own legs to get us there fast enough. A taxi — I needed a taxi. So I just kept circling the main road with Ahyeon on my back, too frantic even to pull out my phone and call one. That was how badly I'd lost my head.

"You kids all right?"

I must have made quite a picture: a boy who still looked like a student, a girl slung over his back, his face like the world was coming down around him, pacing the same stretch of road. A taxi pulled up alongside us. The driver rolled down the passenger window and leaned over.

"Ah—! Sh-she just collapsed, and—"

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠words tumbled out of me. The second he heard collapsed, the driver waved us in — hurry, get in. I pushed Ahyeon into the back seat first and climbed in after her.

On the way, she held my hand. Or I held hers. I couldn't have said which of us was gripping tighter.

"Thank you so much. Really, thank you."

We made it to the emergency room in one piece. I thanked the driver over and over as I got out, then went straight to reception. They ran through a quick check and started bringing her fever down. Somewhere in the middle of it they told me to wait outside, so I did.

While I was out there, I called Ahyeon's mother.

I had already written her number down as the guardian contact, but I still felt like I ought to be the one to call. Her voice on the other end was just as shaken as I expected. The problem was that Ahyeon's family lived out in the countryside. Even if her mother left that second, it would take a good three or four ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hours to get here.

Which meant I would be the one staying with Ahyeon until she arrived.

I waited outside for about an hour and a half. Then Ahyeon walked out of the emergency room on her own. There was color in her lips again, at least — a small mercy compared to before.

"You okay? What did they say...?"

I asked the second I saw her. She opened her mouth, and the voice that came out was raw and scraped.

"T-tonsillitis, they said. My tonsils are really swollen."

"Yeah? So... it's all right for you to leave already?"

"Mm... the fever's down for now. I just need to pick up the medicine and go home."

"Hah— thank god."

The sigh that left me was completely honest, tension rushing out with it. I meant it. I was genuinely, deeply relieved. Only then did the stiffness start to drain out of my shoulders.

We went back to Ahyeon's place with the prescription. It felt like the least I was supposed to do.

She climbed straight into bed and lay down. The fever had broken enough for her to function, but hurting was still hurting. Tonsillitis, of all things. So her voice hadn't just gone hoarse — her throat had actually been in pain. No wonder she'd sounded so raspy yesterday.

"Hah, this is bad.... I need to get better fast."

She said it staring blankly at the ceiling. I knew what she meant. The audition wasn't far off. Of course she was worried about the state she was in.

"Yeah. Just focus on resting for now. Don't even think about practicing."

"Mm... I guess so. I really thought I'd be fine today."

"If you feel even a little sick, you don't go running. What were you being so stubborn for?"

"Hehe..."

She let out a small, sheepish laugh, like my scolding had landed somewhere embarrassing.

"Anyway... get some sleep. Oh, and your mom said she'll probably get here around the afternoon."

"Mm. I talked to her too."

"She sounded really shaken."

"Yeah, she was. I told her I'm okay now."

She shifted under the blanket and turned to face the wall. For a while there was nothing but the rough, uneven sound of her breathing. Then, in a voice gone soft and a little spoiled:

"I'm hungry.... Jinho, I'm hungry."

I hesitated when I heard that. But this was not the moment for that kind of hesitation. This was the girl who had just collapsed in front of me.

"So what do you want."

"I have to take the medicine, too... and I haven't eaten anything yet."

"Hm..."

I checked the time on my phone. I was already late for school. At this point I might as well take my time and go in before lunch. I was soaked through with sweat anyway — I'd need to swing by my place and get myself together first.

"All right. Porridge, then."

I said it thinking I could take care of my own breakfast while I was at it.

"Oh... you know how to make porridge?"

"Porridge is easy."

"So it's a piece of cake? Pfft—!"

"...You're feeling better already, huh?"

I shook my head at the terrible pun and headed for the kitchen. I put rice on to soak, pulled eggs from the fridge, and beat them into a slurry. I was sure I had bought chicken stock for this house a while back. Where had I put it?

Asking Choi Ahyeon would have been useless — she'd just say she didn't know. I was the one who'd bought it so I could cook for her. I probably used this kitchen more than she did.

I rummaged around and found the stock tucked in a corner. A little extra savoriness, then the salt. Choi Ahyeon liked her food on the salty side, so I put in more than I would have for myself. That was the trick, if you were aiming for salty: you had to push it past your own taste. Past the point where you started wondering if you'd overdone it.

A little later, the egg porridge was done.

"Hey. Come eat. Eat, take your medicine, and get some real sleep."

I ladled it into a bowl and set it on the small table. Ahyeon pushed herself up, rumpled and slow, and crawled her way over. Looking at her — looking at both of us — we were a mess. Neither of us had managed a proper wash that morning. We were sitting there looking thoroughly sorry for ourselves.

"Wow— that looks so good."

She sat down, eyed the finished porridge, and said it like she meant it. Then she took a spoonful.

"Whoa— this is insanely good."

"Glad to hear it."

"Your cooking always hits my taste exactly, Jinho."

Well. It would. This wasn't the first or second time I'd made it, and I'd made it with her palate in mind. If I was being honest, it ran a little salty for me.

We ate for a while without talking. Then Ahyeon set her spoon down.

She tossed it out like it was nothing. And that was always my line — the thing I used to say to her as a joke. Not something that came out of Choi Ahyeon's mouth.

Though today, if I hadn't been there, things really might have gone badly.

"Well... you'd have managed just fine."

I said it flat. Like it didn't mean anything at all.

It was such a nasty little irony. Mean, and inconvenient, and perfectly timed to land wrong. Hearing something like that now didn't change a single thing. After that day I had already spent night after night quietly packing away every bit of fondness I had built with her — sorting out the relationship, wiping away the traces. The feelings I had been growing for her in secret had been dragged out and turned into a punchline, a joke for a crowd, and they were still lying there on the floor, torn up and raw, while I pretended not to see them. I had felt it in my bones, over and over: I was the person closest to her, and I was not someone she held dear. I had learned, in the sharpest possible way, how little my being at her side had ever actually meant. And now I stood in front of her hollowed out, as if none of it showed, having already finished preparing to become a stranger.

Once the audition was over, it would all be over. I had already decided that.

Hearing those words now, of all times, was just... cruelly funny. I was hearing them from the person who had already become the worst person in my life. The person who had dealt me the single greatest shock I had ever taken. So even as she said it, I didn't waver. I didn't feel a thing shift. I just thought the timing was almost funny.

And then, turning her words over again, it occurred to me that I might be the one doing the cruelest thing of anyone. That to Choi Ahyeon, I might be the one who ended up the cruelest person she knew. This selfish way of leaving — prepared on my side alone — might be the cruelest ending I could have chosen.