Dreams

You told yourself that letting her go was the right thing to do.

Everyday is a constant reminder that it is the worst decision of your life. Days that were spent celebrating every win you had at competitions felt empty, hollow. The apartment you lived in was bare, quiet. It doesn’t feel like a home.

It’s a never ending cycle of waking up, eating, training, and sleeping. Any free time you have you spend every second doing chores, going on walks around the neighbourhood, more drills on the tennis court. Anything to get your mind from thinking about regret, about what could have beens, about her.

It’s fucking miserable.

The weather really didn’t help either. It wasn’t because it was gloomy, it was the fact that it’s the complete opposite. The forecast says that it’ll be ‘bright skies’ throughout the afternoon, and not a single vehicle in sight in your vicinity.

It was sunny. Like the world was telling you that it’s going to be okay. As if the Powers that be are giving you a good day. You never liked it when you get these types of days. Because it’s just another reminder that you couldn’t spend the good, relaxing days with her.

And if that wasn’t enough, the one car that you did see barely hit you when you were crossing the street. Guess Lady Luck is on your side today too.

You can’t help but feel something odd just happened.

You kept going, anywhere, everywhere. Streets flooded with the masses, food stalls on the sidewalk, cosplayers dancing, children playing. Seeing the joy on everyone’s faces as they go about their day with their loved ones makes you even more depressed.

You wish that you could have that too. Wish that you could be in her arms instead. Wish you never let her go.

And if you were ever given the opportunity to take it all back, you’d damn well take it.

You’re still walking, head down, lost inside of your own thoughts that you don’t realize that you’ve bumped into somebody. Head looks up, and raven eyes are piercing straight into yours. He’s wearing all white, practical, simple. He smells clean. Too clean.

“Sorry.” You mumble out, stepping to the side, continuing your walk. He doesn’t answer. Just staring at you, face blank, eyes following your every movement.

You see him a couple of more times along the way. Eating an ice cream, dancing with strangers, petting a dog. And every single time you cross paths, he’s still staring.

It’s making you anxious, making you look over your shoulder because you don’t know why he’s so fixated on you, making you walk faster, go through shortcuts you didn’t know existed-

“Hey stranger.” A voice. Angelic, soothing, familiar. Dressed in black, elegant, beautiful. Her face, beaming, smile reaching her eyes. You missed being on the receiving end of it.

“Haewon?” You know it’s her, just from that smile, but you still can’t help but ask. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in-” A hand grips your shoulder. Gentle, assuring, stern.

“I’m here for you.” Her hand slides down to hold yours. “Come on.” She pulls, and you follow.

“Wait, wait-” You pull back, shaking your head. “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be on the other side of the city.”

A sigh. Defeated, tired, practiced. “I told you.” A tilt of her head. “I’m here for you. To take you where you need to go.”

“What-” You’re sputtering. “Take me where? I don’t even know what street we’re on!” Your hands explode outwards, confusion written in your entire body as Haewon simply stares. “Seriously, Haewon, you’re not making any sense-” You’re pacing, asking her so many questions, like how she knows where to find you, how she’s been, why she decided to show up today of all days.

So many more left unsaid between you two. So many broken promises you want to fix.

And all she does is smile. “It’s because you’re-” She stops, as if she got cut off. Then she huffs out a laugh. “Are you here for him too?”

You turn around to see the guy that’s been following you, looking at Haewon now. You can still smell how sterile he is from across the street.

He nods. Haewon shakes her head. “Did he make it?”

Another nod. Haewon sighs. “I suppose that’s that.” A clap echoes in the air. The air drizzles. The air rains. The air pours.

She waves, heading to enter another alleyway. “Follow him. He’ll take you back.”

“Wait!” You shout. She stops. “Will I see you again?”

She smiles, and that one smile answered so many questions. “ You will.” And she disappears, blending with the roar of the rain.

A tap on your shoulder. A hand outstretched, waiting for you.

You realize that letting her go is the worst decision of your life.

Maybe this time you can have a chance to set things right.

You take it.

The hand burns.

You burn.

—

Oh Haewon was told not to let feelings interfere with the job.

Everyday is a constant reminder that she needs to stick to that motto. There is illness at every corner, internal battles within each person that she can only help reinforce with doses and drips. The smell of iron painting her gloves, her hands. The crying that echoes throughout the hallways when their loved ones join the ghosts of the night.

It wasn’t easy, getting used to it. And maybe she could say that she has. Convinced herself that this is part of the dangers of her job. That even after everything that she’s seen, everything she’s done, Oh Haewon does it to save people.

It doesn’t stop her heart from breaking every time she hears a child crying. Doesn’t stop her mind from cracking under all of the pressure. Doesn’t stop the nightmares that take over her dreams when she sleeps.

But Oh Haewon powers through. Always remembering why she’s doing this. Why she’s still pushing forward after all of the suffering she’s witnessed, the blood she’s held in her hands, the torture she’s inflicting upon herself.

Part of it was because this was what she wanted. Years of studying to get her degree, to get her license to help treat people, get to know them, be a difference in their lives. It’s what she was born with, always helping, always trying to be that force of kindness that everyone needs. Part of it boiled down to a simple little object.

A ball. Small, pink, cotton worn from the passage of time. To anyone, it was just that. Something that she brings everyday to work as a ‘Stress Ball’ as one of her co-workers called it.

To her? It was a remnant of the past, of a happier time, something that could’ve been if things were different. It’s a letter that somewhere in the world, one person still believes in her.

She really shouldn’t be keeping it anymore. Not after what happened. She doesn’t even know if he still remembers her.

A tiny part of her hopes that he still does.

Her pager rings out. “EMRGY RM. LVL 2. STAT.”

A deep breath. Another patient to save. Another shard that breaks her down just a bit more.

“Patient has-” Injuries are stated, vital signs are checked, and she’s so busy gloving up and listening to the diagnosis that she doesn’t stop to actually look at whoever’s on the bed. And when she does?

“We need to move him-” She never thought she’d see that face again. Especially not like this. Blood on the side of his face, burns all over his body. She feels sick to her stomach, that familiar urge to puke stirring deep inside of her once more.