thursday boy

Who wouldn’t be wary of a stranger who observed them in their unconscious state for hours long? Now that Hwayoung notes, that sounds creepy.

He feels like hiding his face somewhere and suffocating from the embarrassment, instead he remains neutral but just as nervos, he lets out a timid chuckle at the man’s comparison, shaking his head and fumbling with his fingers on his lap. 

“Well, here at least you have bigger chances of surviving.” 

The way the man behaves, it’s like this is already routine to him, and it feeds the growing curiosity he’s trying to will himself not to have. Don’t be impolite, don’t pry. He parted his lips, questions of his own brimming, instead he swallow those down, answering the stranger, “I don’t know. You ran into me, bleeding and already blacking out, I screamed.” He shrugs, there was more to the story, it wasn’t him who called the ambulance, he was in complete shock to do anything. His mind screamed with too many thoughts and feelings, there were so many people screaming and talking, and walking, and then there was pain, so much pain, the type that made his insides twist and spasm. It suddenly stopped, though, once he wasn’t touching the stranger anymore, but even as he watched the paramedics, he swears he could hear here and there, whispers, thoughts.

At least the man who bled on his jumpsuit and hands is alive. With some stitches, which will be an ugly scar later, but at least he’s alive. Hwayoung realizes he saved a life, instead of happy, he’s still scared and this chilling cold won’t leave his bones. He’s sitting close to the bed where the man is lying now, still unconscious, with a quick look over the room he also notes hospitals aren’t that bad, or maybe it’s because he’s paying? The boy wouldn’t know, he’s never had to sleep in a hospital room. 

He sniffles, gazing at his fingers, idly playing with the hem of the blanket covering the stranger, it’s cold, so cold. He wants to go home, but he also feels compelled to stay, make company to the still unconscious man, besides, waking up all alone in a hospital bed seems slightly frightening, at least to him.

It’s been hours already; when he left his apartment, it was barely noon, now the sun has already gone down, 20:00pm, his digital watch reads, it’s been hours since he ate, but there’s no way he’d eat after this. He wants the man to wake up, please, he steals a glance at the stranger’s face; the man is handsome, but also... there’s something just off about him, it intensifies the cold Hwayoung feels, he can’t shake that feeling he shouldn’t be near the man. 

His apartment was far too lonely for his liking. Saturdays have no maids to clean the place around, his lunch and dinner are neatly packed and refrigerated. He’s alone, he feels cold. It takes him less than thirty minutes to get to his feet, wash up and leave, not before stuffing his messenger back with pens, a notebook and cereal bars. He forgets to lock the front door, maybe someone could come in, and, hopefully, stay. 

The wind messes his already disheveled hair, people walk to both directions with hurry, and suddenly he’s a little annoyed, a little anxious too, there’s a lot of urgency to do something, to go somewhere. It’s too warm now, he blames his choice of clothing; a pale green colored sweater and dark jeans. His apartment was cold, he figured it’d be cold outside as well, he always forgets to check the weather, oh well. He decides not to take his sweater off, though, he can bear with the heat.

His feet take him to the park closest to his apartment, his pace faster than usual, his hands are sweaty now, it’s a Saturday afternoon, there would be people there, and while he’s not sure if he’d talk to anyone, just to observe would be enough to sate his weird need for socializing, maybe he could get a paragraph or two written in the meanwhile. And later he could buy himself a milkshake, or a smoothie.

Maybe it’s because of the trees, the heat is now pleasant and bearable, diminishing with the distance he is from crowds. Most of the benches are full, sadly, with the exception for one with a lone girl, and usually he’d leave it be, she could probably want to be alone, but any dirt on his sweater would be painfully noticeable, so sitting on the grass is not an option. He approaches the bench with a small smile, sitting on it and trying to leave a comfortable distance between the two of them.