Hyun: Meori Apeuda

Voices and beeping machines swim around along with the sterile smell of rubbing alcohol and metal -- everything sounds so far away, like trying to listen underwater. I think I’m lying down, but it’s very floaty; I wonder if I’m on a waterbed of some kind.

NO!

The entire world opens into bright chaos, shifting and tilting violently in my blurry vision as I start up into a sitting position...and immediately regret the sudden movement. Everything is bright and flashing jasper, carnelian, and emerald. Is there a traffic light in here?

I grip my head, feeling only a tightly-wrapped cloth with some hair poking out from beneath it. Fuzzy shapes surround me, and I keep trying to squint and make them sharpen up and probably also combine because I don’t think there would be twenty-four people here; progress, on this front, is slow.. Hitting my palms against my head, I try to dispel the ringing that’s now starting to replace the plugged-up feeling from before. Smack, smack, smack!

A hand takes mine, holding tight to stop the assault upon my ears, but I can’t tell who it is. Oh fuck: have I been committed? Did I say something about seeing that strange girl in the studio?

NO!

That girl! That fucking girl again: the one with the creepy eyes! What the hell!

Something beeps louder and faster, as I try to wrench my hands from the incredibly strong grasp of whoever’s got them. I think the voices around me are telling me to calm down, but there is absolutely nothing calm about me being in a mental hospital, and I will absolutely not--

“Hyun, you idiot, it’s me!” shouts a voice through the beeping and ringing.

I know that voice, and I know the person who owns that voice. I don’t think that person would be here if I was in a mental institution. Wasn’t I just with him at the studio...oh, right. He cracked me in the head. And then I passed out afterwards.

“U-re, you son of a bitch,” I manage with my dry mouth and throat.

“Uhh, hyeong--I mean, Doctor, my friend here keeps hitting his head,” U-re clears his throat.

Three figures approach, and only at the last moment do they finally combine into a masked, glasses-wearing face that beams a penlight at my eyes. I blink away the painful brightness; the doctor apologizes and moves to gently rest something cold in my ear. “According to your CT scans, it doesn’t look like you suffered any brain damage, but you certainly got your bell rung -- and you’ve got a nasty laceration on your scalp to show for it. I’d say you probably have a mild concussion.”

I grumble curses at U-re, before remembering it was my own damn fault for looking away in the middle of a practice match thanks to somebody whose name I don’t know and who doesn’t actually exist.

“Where’s his guardian?” The masked doctor asks, glasses flashing gold in the fluorescent light.

“He’s paying up at the front,” U-re replies, and I notice he’s still in his dobok beneath the thick winter coat. He must have rushed straight from the studio without changing; did he drive me here in his car?

The doctor gives a nod and walks away towards wherever I assume my guardian is, and I ask the obvious question, “Who exactly is my guardian?”

U-re blinks at me in concern, “Are you sure you don’t have brain damage?”

“Would I get to sue you, if I do?” I groan, pushing myself back a bit to lean more comfortably against the pillows. Something tugs at my arm, and I follow a clear tube up to an IV-drip beside the bed. U-re shifts it over so that it hangs with more slack, and starts reading the beeping vitals screen next to it. Wait a minute…did he call that doctor ‘hyeong’?

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“That doctor’s your older brother?” I ask, confused that I’d honestly never known this fact. Maybe that’s why U-re got away with so much shit: the older son was already a doctor, so the younger son could be a bit rebellious since the pride of the family was already established. Then again, one would think his parents would expect even more of U-re if his hyeong was a doctor...

He nods, “Guy was practically born to heal people. Oh, by the way, there was some other doctor who checked out your scans earlier -- said he was from the psychiatry department?” U-re shrugs his shoulders, “I guess they wanna make sure you’re not traumatized by getting whacked or something.”

“Are you even the least bit sorry?” I detour away from the previous topic, already knowing I was probably going to have to make a trip to the psychiatry department for additional tests given my...well-documental mental condition.

U-re looks more than a little offended, “Of course I’m sorry. Why the fuck would I wanna crack your head open on purpose?”

“Because then you take out the only person in our studio who can beat you?”

“In your dreams,” U-re snorts. The smile only lasts a moment, before falling in tandem with the furrowing of his brows, “You were mumbling a bunch of random gibberish while you were out at different points.” He laughs, “Pretty sure at one point you said some things that would’ve made nuns clutch their rosaries and faint.”

I groan, closing my eyes. Everything is still too bright and now it’s just getting too loud thanks to the ringing starting to fade. I’ve only ever had three migraines in my life, but this feels pretty similar.

“Why’d you turn your head any--”

“Hyun, you’re up!” My eyes open at the sound of Coach jogging over, winter trench coat flapping behind him like wings in the movement. He comes right up to my side, putting a hand on my forehead and then inhaling between his teeth at the sight of what I assume is my bandaged head. “How are you feeling?”

Like I wanna die, thanks. How ‘bout you?

I don’t actually say that, instead I just shut my eyes again, “I’m fine. Just feels like a particularly bad headache.”

Coach sighs, “Well, the doctors said they’re going to keep you overnight for observation. If it’s all good tomorrow, then you can be discharged.”

Great.

“And this goes without saying, but you’re benched on mandatory rest until I think you’re recovered.”

Whether or not Coach expected me to say anything back to that, I don’t know -- all I do know is, at this moment, I can’t actually formulate a response. A pit opens up in my gut, from it rises a very painful emotion that presses against my throat; my jaw clenches tight to try and push it back from escaping out my mouth, and my hands ball into fists, gripping the bed sheets like my life depends on it.

“Sorry, Hyun,” U-re mumbles. Coach says something low, but I can’t hear it clearly; all I know is that U-re says goodbye almost right after. I focus on each squeak of his trainers as he walks away, until the sound vanishes within the general din of the hospital.

Metal and faux leather squeak as Coach settles into the chair next to my bed. A hand rests upon my shoulder. “Open your eyes, Hyun.”

I don’t want to, but I do, making it a point to not look at Coach directly. Instead, I stare at the fluorescent light right above my head.

“I know you’re upset about being benched because of how hard you’re working, but you also know not properly healing an injury is death to an athlete’s career.”

My teeth grind against each other even harder, but I at least give Coach a grunt of acknowledgement.

“If it’s any consolation, I told U-re he’s benched too for the duration of your recovery.”

That makes me look at him in surprise. “You pulled U-re? Why?”

Coach shrugs, “Injuries are things that happen, but U-re’s good enough that he could’ve pulled his blow or deflected so that you didn’t end up with stitches in your head.” Then he laughs, “Besides, I don’t think anyone else has the guts to take him on after witnessing that, so he can just focus on his naegong and singong while helping around the studio until you’re back.

Naegong, internal power. Singong, mental power. He was busting U-re all the way off any kind of physical training. That was gonna drive U-re insane, and now guilt pokes at my conscience because it’s not entirely his fault.

“But--”

“My gym, my rules,” Coach winks.

The pressure and pain in my throat dissipates, and I can’t help but laugh -- I immediately regret it, though, as pain pulses through my head in time with each exhale. Augh, I’m tired. My body punctuates the thought with a yawn, and soon the world falls away into blessed quiet.