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Namgi was with Kitae the night he contracted the stomach virus.

They were rehearsing in the studio when Kitae suddenly bolted for the washroom. When he didn't return after ten minutes, Namgi went down the hall and found the younger crouched next to the toilet. He gave Namgi a sallow smile then proceeded to projectile vomit.

Midnight was approaching. Left in the building without any other staff, Namgi had no choice except to speed to the nearest hospital with Kitae, who alternated between groaning and retching into a plastic shopping bag.

Luckily, the night doctor's shift had just started when they scrambled into the emergency care unit. Kitae was immediately swept away by a middle-aged nurse, who helped him lie down on a cot and checked his vitals. She then gave him two antacid pills to calm his stomach and a tablet of ondansetron to curb the vomiting. After making sure Kitae was relatively stabilized, she deftly hooked him up to an IV drip and notified him that the doctor would be with him shortly.

Namgi stepped into the alcove after the nurse left. In response to his worried face, Kitae grimaced once and stuck out a peace sign.

"Man, with the way you were throwing up, I was afraid you were going to puke out your stomach," exhaled Namgi.

"Vomited twelve times," said Kitae with a grin. "I counted."

Namgi shook his head. Kitae was an alien that way. "Of course you did. What the hell d'you eat?"

"A bunch of things. If you really want to know, why don't you check that bag I left in the car?"

The mere thought of Kitae's puke bag festering in the passenger seat made Namgi cringe. He'd have to make the younger repay him for being both the chauffeur and the garbage man.

They bickered back and forth for a while before the night doctor swiped the curtains aside with a clipboard in hand. She was a slender woman with shoulder-length lob cut and wore horn-rimmed glasses. Around her neck hung a stethoscope attached to an infrared thermometer. Without greeting either man, she walked swiftly towards the cot, took notes of Kitae's vitals and asked him a series of questions in a soft voice.

While Kitae meekly answered the young and attractive doctor, Namgi felt his breath catch. His eyes honed in on her ebony hair, the small crinkles beside her almond-shaped eyes, and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

As she finished up Kitae's diagnosis and wrote prescriptions, Namgi stood straighter and asked, tentatively, "Vous êtes Renée, n'est-ce pas (You're Renée, aren't you)?"

Leaden silence.

The doctor turned and met Namgi's gaze, hers revealing nothing as they faced each other. Just as Namgi was about to apologize for his mistake, she replied quietly, "Oui. Ça fait déjà dix ans, Nick (Yes. It's already been ten years, Nick)."

Namgi nodded mechanically. She gave him half a smile, though her eyes held an incalculable distance. Turning to the patient, she said, "I'll be back to check on you after the IV drips finish. It should take about an hour." That said, she ducked out of the alcove without another glance at Namgi.

Once they were alone, Kitae whistled at the older from his cot. "Alright, spill it. What were you saying to my doctor?"

"Nothing, man. Your English just sucks too much."

Kitae scowled. "I know enough to figure out that wasn't English at all."

Namgi shrugged.

"There must be a story." Kitae pressed an index finger to his temple, "I have a sixth sense, and it's tingling."

Namgi rolled his eyes. Yet he couldn't help but applaud the kid. Kitae was scary when it came to reading people and situations; sometimes Namgi wondered if he had a crystal ball hidden somewhere.

Releasing a long exhale, he said, "If I tell you, will you leave it?"

Kitae beamed and held up a pinky finger. "As a bonus, I promise to keep it a secret until I die."

Namgi pulled up a chair from the corner. Meanwhile, Kitae laid down and snuggled into the folds of his makeshift, plastic blanket. He was starry-eyed and carried an expectant expression like a kid waiting for a bedtime story.

Resting a hand on the cot, Namgi told Kitae that they were taking a mental trip to France.


Header image: adhy (Unsplash)

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