Acrophilia

II: Sunset

     Two months go by after that incident with the young man at the bridge and Jaebeom doesn't think much about it nor remembers the boy, although at time the handsome face crosses his thoughts ephemerally, but that's as much as there's to it.

Jaebeom's mother doesn't improve, but she doesn't get worse which is something and makes him grateful. Every day he reminds himself she's hanging in there, and he can push forward another day, as hard as that might be. He doesn't spend all his time in the hospital anymore, not because the nagging of everyone had any effect, but because what his best friend Jackson told him one day:

"Would you mother be proud of you if you were here all day?"

No, she wouldn't and Jaebeom knew it, once classes started again in September, he started attending and spending the rest of his day at the hospital with his mother, telling her what happened in his day and the contents they were covering, even his assignments. More often, though, Jaebeom reads to his mother any of the books he's currently interested in. Some are fiction, some are essays; it doesn't really matter, it's like they are reading it together and that's all that counts.

Jaebeom's father is as absent as he was at the beginning. His biggest involvement was to settle with the truck driver, making Jaebeom furious because he wanted a trial, he needed that justice. That satisfaction was taken from him before he could even properly think about it or get his hands on it. The case was closed, fixed, and Jaebeom's mother was still in coma.

Jaebeom is starting to really resent his father for his absence and lack of support. He's only twenty-four, he shouldn't be dealing with this much pressure or responsibility, being the only one taking care of his mother. The burden should be shared, but his father has washed his hands and Jaebeom is completely alone.

Today, his mother's doctor comes to check on her in one of his rounds and the doctor's expression is so blank when she checks the file and his mother's condition. She checks for any sort of reflexes and Jaebeom has seen the routine so many times he even performs it sometimes. Pressing his nail on her thumb, checking her pupils for dilatation, but nothing. Every day, there's nothing. Jaebeom feels his chest tightening with apprehension when he sees the doctor almost imperceptibly shaking her head, sighing as if she's given up already.

"There's still no physical response and her brain activity doesn't show any change, she just keeps stable," says the doctor with a sigh, hands in her coat pockets as she meets Jaebeom's eyes. "It's been almost nine weeks and she has not improved in the slightest. You should start considering accepting the possibility she might not wake up. As time passes by, the chances become slimmer and slimmer."

Jaebeom clenches his fists so tight at his sides he feels his nails burying in the flesh of his palms because he knows, all of that he knows, but he doesn't need to be reminded that his mother is practically brain dead and they are just forcing her to stay 'alive' with machines, and that she most likely won't wake up. Jaebeom really doesn't need that. He needs people telling him to stay strong and that it's great his mother hasn't gotten worse despite time, that she's stable and hanging on.

Just a bit of hope and support, that's all he needs for crying out loud.

"I know it's hard, but that's the truth. All that's left is waiting and praying for a miracle, if you're a believer."

Jaebeom isn't, but he's praying, with all his heart, he's praying for his mother.

"I'll see you around, Jaebeom-ssi."

The doctor leaves, once again, Jaebeom not uttering a single word, swallowing all of his complaints and worries, all his hurt. He doesn't feel understood or supported by the doctor, but he respects her because all in all, she saved his mother from dying in the OR, even if she ended in a coma.