For as long as Wonwoo could remember, he did not know what warmth felt like.
All he knew was to live within the four walls of his hospital ward with the distinct smell of disinfectants and the beeping of a heart monitor to his right.
His entire life, he had been diagnosed with paresthesia, the loss of sensation.
In Wonwoo's case, it had taken over almost his entire body over the course of seventeen years of living. The only part he could still feel were the sole of his feet.
However, that was not the reason for Wonwoo to currently be in the hospital. Wonwoo felt fatigue the previous night while carrying out his fish duties at home. He had been checking them for their health conditions on a stool.
His breathing became heavy and quick-paced, before falling off his stool as he laid on the floor, unconscious.
His mother had called for an ambulance, arriving as quick as they could, they propped Wonwoo onto the stretcher before leaving for the nearest hospital. It had been one rushed night last night. Before, it used to be normal trips to the hospital with already-made appointments then.
Now, everything had happened so quickly that everyone has been set off from their feet.
It was painful news to Wonwoo and his parents to hear when he had awoken. The doctor had confirmed that Wonwoo had liver failure, it was at an early stage if stage three itself; the chances of reversing it was possible, but slim. The doctor then further added that at stages like this, patients would usually have a maximum of five years left.
"Five years?" Wonwoo exclaimed, fear written all over his face as his hands trembled. "But I haven't experienced life to the fullest yet..." he looked down at his hospital gown, playing with the hems of it.
"I'm sorry but I'm afraid that there is nothing more we could do, unless you could try opting for a reverse treatment-"
"What are the chances of success?" Mr. Jeon stepped in.
"It's low but its definitely possible," the doctor said as he flipped through his notes, "it's most likely possible at this early stage."
The family could only stay silent, not wanting to make a mistake in the decision making process.
"I'll leave you guys to think about it," the doctor excused himself as he left with the nurses.
"I don't... Want to die," Wonwoo started, "not when I haven't-"
"I know... We don't want to lose you either," his mother agreed as she laced her arm around Wonwoo's shoulder.
"But..." Wonwoo let his tears stream down his face, "-in a case where you spend so much for the treatment and I don't survive-"
"Shush, you will get better, I promise."
.
Now, Wonwoo was lying alone on his bed, staring at the blank ceiling. He thought of all the possible outcomes to the situation; there were only two outcomes. It was either he lives or he doesn't, and he had hoped it wasn't the latter.
He was still happy nonetheless, he was at least still grateful for being able to step foot into this world, even if he was sick in this life.
'How great would it be if I had a normal life,' Wonwoo thought to himself. He lived his entire life in darkness, surrounded by the same four walls of his home.
However, despite the unfortunate things that had happened in his life, there was something he enjoyed doing.
Wonwoo loved reading and writing. He had seemed to be always caught by his parents whenever he always wrote sentimental pieces of his own, but they had never really questioned him about it. He loved writing letters, to whoever, because he believed that no letters deserved to go undelivered.
He too, had written some letters to his future self, 'of he could even stay for that,' Wonwoo doubted himself.
Wonwoo pulled the retractable hospital table over his bed as he rummaged the drawers for pieces of paper and a pen. He had lit the working space of his with a few candles placed by his bedside. He stared at the empty sheets of paper as he brainstormed, but nothing came to mind.
Until, he decided to write a letter, to someone he could trust in the future. Someone special enough that Wonwoo would feel safe if he were to entrust his life with. He gripped onto his pen tightly as his eyes remain on the blank pieces of paper still. His hand trembled in fear, from not knowing what to express in that letter, but when he did, his hand did not stop working, filling the once empty sheets of paper, full from the top, all the way to the bottom, front and back inclusive.
It was funny to Wonwoo that he was even able to write that much since he knew he lacked the experience. It even shocked Wonwoo to even read what he had wrote in the letter. The heartfelt emotions put into words as they wait patiently to be delivered to their respective receiver.
Wonwoo hoped that they would feel what Wonwoo had been wanting to express with the well-written words of his and it would reach their hearts.
Wonwoo placed his writing utensil down and blew out the candles as he hopped out of his bed, Sometimes he had hoped for his paresthesia to spread to his feet too. The floor had always been his least favorite part of the hospital. They were always stone cold, as if Wonwoo was walking on thick ice itself.
He would tour around the hospital at ungodly hours from time to time and find comfort in them. The echoes of his footsteps along the poorly lit hallways, the cold feet he would always get. How the air conditioning would always be on full blast as they ruffled Wonwoo's hair, was something he loved.
Loved, because it was something he was unable to feel.
His thoughts wandered as he allowed his feet to bring him wherever, they occupied this mind with thoughts of what life would've been like if he hadn't had his sickness.
'What if when I get a donor, is the day my liver gives up on me?' Wonwoo thought.
'Will I ever be able to find someone who I could fall in love with?'
'Who would show up for my funeral then? Probably not. It isn't like I had much people around me growing up either...'
'What would happen to mother and father when I'm gone? They'll be very lonely then...' Wonwoo brought a hand under his chin as he continued to think.
'Why am I crying?' Wonwoo questioned himself as he felt his eyes damp. "I'm going to die anyways... It's just a matter of time..." he voiced out unknowingly.
His heart raced as he repeated the words he refused to believe, "I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to-"
"C'mon! Stop pulling my leg, you're going to turn out perfectly fine," a voice emerged from a dark corridor, the light had been flickering like mad when Wonwoo had got there.
Wonwoo panicked as he picked up his pace, wanting out of this situation. All he needed to do was to get out of here as soon as possible. He was afraid as well, having someone to reply to yourself in the dark was horrifying.
The voice then spoke again, "then get enough rest alright? I'll visit you again tomorrow."
Where Wonwoo had led himself to was right in front of where the voice came from; a male, tall, tanned and handsome, at least in Wonwoo's eyes he was. There he stood, in front of a closed door.
"What are you looking at?" He had a displeased look as Wonwoo could make out of, eyebrows were furrowed in annoyance and his lips twitched as Wonwoo continued staring.
"Sorry, I happened to pass by and I heard a voice and- and- and I felt like I needed to get away as soon as possible and-" Wonwoo babbled, hands motioning everywhere as he tried explaining his intruding manner to the guy.
"Whatever," he rolled his eyes before turning around, heading for the elevator as he left Wonwoo standing there.
Wonwoo took this as a sign of dismissal and had turned around, clutching onto the white and thick handrails provided for the disabled. He noticed his breaths getting shorter and pulse even faster. The next thing he knew, his grip loosened and his legs gave way, letting Wonwoo collide with the cold floor that he was unable to feel.
Now, the man who was about to step foot into the elevator as it dinged, heard a noise before he did. He stared back into the darkness once where he came from, before refusing to step into the cube waiting for him.
He then dashed towards the dark, not knowing what to expect from it. The atmosphere grew still as he scanned the surroundings, he wondered where had the silent blabbering boy had went within such a short period of time.
His breaths too, became heavier as worry grew inside of him. He decided to venture deeper into the dark as he worried for the sick boy's wellbeing.
It was not long after he had found the boy lying on the floor unconscious, with short breaths, He picked up the boy in his arms as he rushed to the nurse's counter, seeking for help.
"I found him unconscious in the hallways around here," he panted.
"Do you know his room number?" The nurse asked as she went through the system on the computer.
He shook his head, "he's a complete stranger to me."
Another nurse interrupted the both of them, "I know him, he's a patient from room 387."
"We'll send for a doctor there, thank you for your kindness, sir."
.
The doctor had attended to Wonwoo after a while, after the man had placed him down on the hospital bed.
"Doctor, how come he couldn't wake up when I tried waking him?"
"He has a condition where he can't feel touch."
That shocked him. He has never heard of such illnesses, maybe he has but it was rare when he did. He snapped out of his thoughts when the doctor had called him "may I get your name? And your number as well. I think you deserve to be thanked by him personally."
But he did not want anything to do with the patient. He just wanted to erase this moment from his life.
But how he wished he wanted to treasure it then.
"I'm Mingyu," he answered as he jotted down his number on the doctor's notes in pencil.
"Thank you, Mingyu. If it weren't for you, Wonwoo would've been in a critical condition right now," the doctor thanked once more, "I suggest we leave him to rest," before walking out with Mingyu.
Mingyu then spared one last glance at the sleeping figure, chest rising and falling at a steady pace. He looked so much in peace, yet so fragile, as if he'd break if one were to drop him.
"Has he always been like this?"
The doctor nodded in response, "but I suppose I'm not in a position to elaborate further into this condition."
"Why not?"
"Family requests."
Mingyu grunted, completely unsatisfied with the answer. He then shrugged it off and split ways with the doctor.
'What's so special about that kid anyway?' Mingyu thought as he lit up a cigarette as he walked to his bike.
"Wonwoo," the name rolled off his tongue so perfectly. "Room 387," he adds as he rode back home.
.
"Wonwoo,"
"What's that?" Mingyu's mother had asked.
"What's that got to do with you?" Mingyu scoffs.
"Have you been sticking around your bandmate again-"
"Once again, that's got nothing to do with you,"
"You'd always be on your feet whenever Minghao gets in trouble don't you-"
"Whatever happens in my personal life, has nothing to do with you." Mingyu said as he stormed up his room.
He had been in the hospital for the entire day since after school, to take care of his bandmate, Minghao, who had foodpoisoning for the past few days.
If Mingyu had to be honest, he did have feelings for the other guitarist, but he knew that he already had his eyes on the kid from the calligraphy club.
He knew because he'd caught them laughing alongside each other in the cafe nearby school, and not to forget that Minghao had insisted on inviting the calligraphy club along with them to their beach vacation, that was purely only for their band.
Yes, Mingyu had known. It had been a long time since then. He knew better than to let his feelings grow bigger but there was just something abought Minghao that was alluring Mingyu in. He knew he would get hurt in the end if he kept his feelings for the other any longer. But he just couldn't help himself but to fall deeper whenever their eyes meet.