It had been surprisingly easy to obtain forty thousand won. As a matter of fact, I kicked myself in the backside (mentally, rather than physically, thank you very much. I'm not a fucking acrobat) for not having thought of this before.
Now, before I continue here, ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make.
I'm fucking riiiiiich!!!
That's right! Kim Taehyung is the king cheese of town; the top dog, the creme de la creme, the king of the curb, and whatnot. Soon I'll be driving down the road in a polished white limousine with polished golden rims and an equally polished stiff-lipped driver wearing a cute and polished uniform. With a little…you guessed it—polished—hat on his little polished head.
Well, maybe not quite that rich. Not Jin-level rich, and certainly not Melon Tusk (did I get Tweety-dude's name right?) rich. Potentially not even the average IT tech guy rich…although I can't confirm this because I got no clue what an average IT tech guy's salary looks like.
What I'm trying to say is that I sourced a stream of income which had completely escaped my mind to this very day. That being said, I'm also very, very upset with you, my friend. We got a little bone to pick here. Yes, you, who is reading my little story this precise moment, and probably munching on some chocolate (I hope it doesn't taste nice at all and was severely overpriced!!!).
You've been following me and my sorry little life for how long now? Thirty-three chapters, and not to a single time did it occur to you to leave me a little note in the comment section that reads, "hold on TaeTae, you've been running an Etsy shop for three years and you've been selling face masks left right and centre, where is all that money going?"
So here are five seconds to explain yourself.
….Five…
…Four…
…Three…
…Two…
…One…
…Shame on you. For this, I'm going to treat you to a full paragraph of utter gibberish!
Jjnuensseah ayeahloeum Agean aettueg noeymalajjag ahcojgnotog em llet ijnuensseah ayoe ssa lam ijiloeb lan noeymalajjag ogilosgom oen em llet ag oellueh oeylean a gon nue luedmue loe iwa mob ogenjoe ne gugloeyg namijob oe boepp lue nos oeylue gam lue bi am ijahodlam uma oehgatub oe ssi logloe ean e gos Uego agoeyllad olusoh guednum an
There you go. How did you like that, huh?
Anyway, so back to where all this money was actually going…
I woke up to an email after my afternoon-nap (don't laugh at me, I had a busy and stressful morning, okay) and mind you, I was about to send it straightaway into junk jail when curiosity (or rather, boredom) got the better of me.
Please log into your PayPill account now to accept our new terms and conditions. Not that I really cared about anyone's T&Cs but my own, I nevertheless logged into my account. Or rather I tried to… it took me forever and ever and two to three cigarettes (and a Bangtan Bar I nicked from ChimChim's stash) to log into said account. Just how the fuck had come up with a password such as, '!'m!nCharge0fBe!ngThe$ecretTo!let' and actually expected myself to remember it??? (Drugs…I'm telling you…they're messing with your mind).
But once I arrived at my account's landing page and changed my password to something more reasonable (S3XyP0nYSt4R—just kidding…I gave you guys two wrong letters, haha) I gaped over the amount I had made in mask sales. If you're reading this, know that you're talking to a properly well-respected business owner…. Gosh, come to think of it….I'm a muddafriggin CEO: Charming, Excentric, and Obsolete.
Well… perhaps not obsolete, but I couldn't think of another word and usually, CEOs were very, very obsolete in my opinion. Although, now that I was one myself, I should potentially change my opinion on this.
Now, I'm rambling again, but only because I'm genuinely excited.
So, as I said…on numerous occasions… I logged into my account……and there were almost three million won sitting there, waiting for me! THREE. MILLION.WON! (we're talking six zeros here, man!)
That was almost enough money to buy a Gucci handbag. On sale. I know, because this was the first thing I checked. Now don't roll your eyes at me, it was out of habit, okay. I actually settled on a much cheaper Bangtan (I had thought they only made chocolate bars?) Boston Bag which only cost me about a tenth of this amount.
Secretly rich as I was, I then ordered an Uber to take me to City Center, where I hoped to meet Star later in the day. Naturally, I had requested Monty as my driver, because a CEO such as myself needed to have his very own, personal chauffeur.
Despite my newfound fortune, I was nervous about what I was about to do. Gosh, why was I such an idiot and hadn't confided in anyone? Now that I had friends, I could entrust them with these sorts of things. I sighed. I had yet to get into the habit of properly talking to them. So instead, I found a loose string on my hem and started pulling it and twirling it between my fingers. Naturally, this did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves.
"Yo, my man," I leaned over to my dedicated driver. There was only one thing that would calm my system just now. "Can I smoke in your car? Pretty please?"
"Absolutely not." Came the stoic response. I guess I needed to teach my driver some new manners. I sighed, and checked my bank account for the umpteenth time, "And how about if I offer you some extra money?"
"Still a no." The guy was as talkative as a tree trunk, which also didn't do anything to improve my condition.
"How about an additional hundred thousand?" Gosh, it felt good to be rich.
"How about we stop for five minutes and you have a smoke break, then we continue, and you pay extra only for the additional time?"
I guess Monty's idea was more reasonable than my own.
A lot more reasonable, Hermione agreed. And sane.
"Works for me," I resisted sticking my tongue out to Hermione in case Monty would take it personally, then waited until my dedicated driver came to a halt, jumped from the vehicle, and finally lit up.
Monty watched me with an unreadable expression.
"Are you on drugs?" He finally asked, folding his arms. He looked like a mix between Jin and Min Grumpy when he did this, although taller. Much taller. Monty was pretty much basketball-player-sized.
I guess I couldn't blame him for the assumption. I was rather jittery.
"No, but I wish I were," I replied honestly.
"Withdrawals?" Monty enquired and made some jerky motions as if he wasn't sure whether he should sit down next to me or keep his distance.
"Not really, no. Nothing I can't handle at least." I bit my lip and then released it with a pop. "Okay, so…I'm in therapy right now, okay? Well, right now-now, I'm on Christmas break. But normally I'm in therapy. And most of the time it's also going super well. For me, that is. But I met someone there. I wouldn't even call her a friend…rather someone, I guess I worry about… A lot…And she's not doing exactly well. And I want nothing more than to help her, but to do so, I really need to stretch my comfort zone into the next continent."
It felt good to let it all out. Or rather, just to put it in words. Even if I did so to a fucking uber driver whose real name I had completely forgotten. Pea-boy…Peak-body…something like that…
Things were always easier somehow once they were put into proper words. I should remember that. Perhaps, I was designed to become a writer. I would be acing a crime series in no time. With some fantasy element. And a cool action hero…and a bit of…well…you know….oooohs and umphs…and lots of humour.
Maybe I was destined to revolutionise fucking James Bond. I will start next week. Today, I was too busy with other things.
"Well," my driver said, finally sitting down next to me, "Considering you're in therapy yourself, maybe I should focus on your own recovery first before you attempt to help others."
I sighed. Monty was just as much of an idiot as Dr Maeng. "That's what my therapist is telling me, too. But in all fairness, that's the most ridiculous advice invented by mankind. Because while I'm working on bettering myself, this girl is going down the drain and she's probably not even fourteen years old."
"Wow, man…sholy hit."
"Sholy hit exactly," I agreed. "And the thing is, I'm sure I can get through to her…I think I may have pierced through her walls this morning. But it's going to be freaking difficult. I can't share any more details though. Just thinking about what I'm about to do gives me the heebie-jeebies."
"Well…" Monty eyed my cigarettes as if he wanted to ask me for one. I shoved my pack over to him.
"Thanks." He took one then lit up. "Do you have someone to speak to afterwards? I mean… once you've met your friend… Are you going home to your family? And can confide in anyone? Or have the number of your therapist so you can call them? Because if what you're going to do is difficult for you, you may want to have a backup plan for later."
It turned out Monty wasn't as stupid as he looked. That was sound advice. "I'm going to a friend's house this evening…. My best friend actually. He kinda knows a fucking big deal about me and my situation." As much as I loved ChimChim, I was thinking about Min Useful at this moment. I guess both of them were my best friends, albeit in different ways.
"Maybe you wanna call or text him?"
"Oh, he knows I'm coming. In fact, you picked me up from his place…"
"That's not what I meant." Monty interrupted. "You should perhaps pre-warn him that you won't be in the best of places mentally when you return home, so he can prepare for you."
I didn't think my being mentally drained required any preparation. Min Lazy was a couch and takeaway kind of person, and I think that was exactly the comfort I needed.
"Just think about it, okay?" I wasn't sure whether I saw correctly, but I thought Monty had been rolling his eyes at me.
I shrugged. I guessed a text message could do no harm, so I pulled out my phone and typed, About to do something stupid. Might not be at my best when I return home. And sent it off to Min Bestie.
I then put my phone on silent and shoved it into my bag. I better not be disturbed about what I was going to do now.
We arrived at Central Station a lot faster than I would have expected. I assume a lot of people were on holiday at this time of the year, and rush-hour traffic was not as horrendous as one would expect it to be at this time in the evening. I swirled my eyes around the place, looking for Star.
I might not plan on sleeping with her, yet I could not help feeling dirty about having led her here under this impression. But if I had told her what we were really going to do, she might have bolted. Because to be honest, I felt like bolting too.
"Yo, fucker," someone said from behind me, and I spun around. Star had changed her outfit and put on some red lipstick. It had probably been an attempt to look sexy, if the short skirt, heavy boots, and fishnet stockings were anything to go by. But the only thing I saw was a sickly child. What kind of men took her up on her offers? Those perverted bastards should rot in prison for a lifetime.
"Hey there," I announced, trying to seem as cheerful as I could, which wasn't much. Now that the time had come, I was so nervous that my fingers and intestines started to shake uncontrollably.
"So… where are we going?" Star looked around. "I hope you either live around here or rented a motel because if you're planning to do it in the open, I insist on a park or behind a dumpster or something. Got some dignity, you know."
I wasn't sure whether the last part was meant as a joke. And if it had been, it wasn't a funny one. Because the only thing I saw was desperation. And I was sure that Star would forget all about her stipulations if I threw another ten grand into the mix. Not that I was planning on testing the theory.
I bit the inside of my cheek until I drew blood, then did my best to prepare myself mentally for what I was about to do and squared my shoulders. "That way," I announced, pointing up the hill.
Somehow, seeing her had eased my own discomfort. Because no matter how insecure I felt about what I was to do, helping Star had become the more dominant emotion.
But gosh… that being said… I would do anything for a bottle of whiskey right now.
"All right," the girl said, "but first I want a fifty-percent deposit to ensure you won't screw me over."
Without telling her that I had no plans to screw her at all, I handed her ten thousand. "Once we're at the destination, I give you the second part of the prepayment," I advised. If she could make up rules on the go, then so could I.
"Where the fuck are we heading?" Star asked, as our walk up the hill didn't seem to stop. And I could not fault her for that. We had been walking for a solid twenty minutes at least. Personally, I didn't remember the hill to be that steep or long, otherwise, I would have insisted on taking a bus.
No, you wouldn't…because that would have given the girl an indication of where you're heading and you purposefully kept this a secret until the very last moment, Hermione advised. I was glad that she'd taken reign of my brain just now because I don't think I could have handled speaking with Putin at this moment. If that had been the case, I might have considered running away myself.
"We're almost there. C'mon keep going." I encouraged her, although I sounded just as out of breath as she did. I prayed we were really almost there. Because I might need to be hooked to a breathing machine if this march continued for much longer.
"I don't wanna. Can't we just do it over here? It's fairly quiet and no one is going to see us." She was dead-arse-serious about this and began to unbutton her coat.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Stop it. It's not much further. You'll see. Now come on!"
I turned around and kept marching. Although I really wanted to, I didn't turn around to check on her. Star wanted… no, needed…my money more than she wanted anything else, so she would follow me no matter what. But still, it was hard to pretend not to worry about her well-being. Because, after all, this was the main reason for this odyssey.
With balled fists, I marched on until the General Hospital finally came into view.
"Hospital? What the…" Star came to a halt behind me.
I ignored her and marched on, trusting that she would follow me just like a dog would follow the promise of a sausage.
It wasn't only that I didn't want to give her any hint, but also because I wanted to reach the sexual health section before I lost my last nerve.
As anticipated, Star was stumbling along just behind me. "I suppose a hospital has plenty of beds," she mused. "Good call. I'd have never thought of it. Do I get my second deposit now?"
I counted out another ten grand and handed her the money.
The sexual health clinic was just at the end of the first-floor corridor, however, I took Star on a few detours. I didn't want her to work out where exactly we were heading until the very last moment. Fortunately for me, I had gotten to know the hospital rather well over the last year and could point out every single shortcut and mouse hole in the entire building.
"Here's an empty room," Star pointed to our right and was about to march inside when I grabbed her by the wrist. "Come on. Just a bit further."
"Well, if you say so." She shrugged, then mumbled something about weird fantasies on the operating table and I wanted to clean my overactive imagination with a bottle of bleach right that instant.
Finally, we arrived at the reception.
"Yo, fucker…" Star started, but I didn't let her finish. Addressing the receptionist, I said with shaking lips, "Good Afternoon, I'm here for my five o'clock appointment. The name is Kim Taehyung."
The receptionist nodded, checked her system, and clicked her curser a handful of times. Then she asked me to take a seat in the waiting area. Star followed me, hissing, "what the friggin fuck are we doing here? Are you fucking trying to humiliate me by forcing me through some weird testing shit?"
Not you, don't you worry, I'm only planning to humiliate myself here. But before I could say anything out loud, the girl continued. "Newsflash to you, old man. STDs aren't even real. They're a construct of the media and the church to eliminate sexual freedom. So…"
I didn't quite know how to answer this tirade, so I grabbed a random magazine and pretended to be interested in the women's swimming championship in 1996 as if it was the highlight of my life.
"Tae…Come on. What the heck…I should be charging you extra for this bullshit you're pulling. I…"
"Fine," I cut her off. "How much extra do you want?"
Somehow, this startled my too-young friend. "I…erm….fifteen thousand," she added after a short while.
I put the magazine aside, reached into my wallet and counted out another ten thousand won. "There you go. You get the reminder afterwards." Then I opened my magazine again, hoping the nurse would call out my name soon. Anticipation and fear were raising within me with every second that passed. Just why had I ever thought that this was a good idea?
Because you believe the girl needs a wake-up call, Hermione advised. She seemed to be on my side, which usually was a good indication that I was doing the right thing.
"Sit down," I hissed toward the teenage girl who for some reason decided it was good behaviour to peek into one of the consultation rooms.
"I'm not snooping around," she protested, all evidence pointing against her, "It's a clinic, I'm only looking for meds."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the moment I decided to tell my brother that I was never ever going to be available for babysitting services for Minho. Because I decided to stay away from everyone under the age of twenty-five for the rest of my life.
"Kim Taehyung?" The receptionist finally called after what had felt like half a century, "Doctor Hang is ready to see you now."
I nodded my thanks, then motioned Star to follow me.
"Can't I just wait here?" The girl had taken this moment to finally sit down and reach for a magazine.
"No can't do. Now, come along." I told her, reaching out my hand. "I even sponsor you a happy meal after this. Deal?"
Not only was I humiliating myself today, but I was also paying for the pleasure of it. Some wires inside my brain were clearly muddled up. No wonder everyone thought I was a basket case.
"I'm not going to do any tests. This is a scam," Star told the doctor as we walked into the consultation room. I mouthed, "just ignore her," and then took my usual seat, pulling up my sleeve for the usual blood withdrawal.
Doctor Hang glanced from Star to me but then started preparing her syringe.
"How have you been feeling the last few weeks?"
"All good," I advised, because she was only enquiring about my physical health concerning my STD, and not about any other shit I was going through in my life.
"How have you been getting on with your new medications since I saw you last?"
Again, I nodded. Everything was going kinda well.
Are you sure about that? Hermione quipped.
"To be honest," I mumbled, "They've been making me really sick on occasion; up to the point where I am passing out at random intervals in the middle of the day."
The doctor nodded. It had been one of the main side effects and we both knew that this might happen, but my results hadn't been all too great which is why she needed to prescribe me something a lot stronger. I took a deep breath. This was the right moment. Not that I felt in any way ready for it. "Can you please explain to me again why I need these power pills?"
The doctor glanced at Star who was currently examining a machine for measuring blood pressure.
I nodded and gestured for her to continue.
"Mr Kim," Dr Hang said, "you've been neglecting your medication for the last two years, and this had a severe impact on your health. We found two Sarcoma spots on your chest, which usually appear when the T4 cell count is extremely low, meaning your immune system is in a very weak state."
I nodded. Although I knew all of this; we had gone through this in great detail during my last few visits here, it never got any easier hearing this. And while I usually had my brother with me while I went through this bullshit, this time I brought a young teenage girl who wasn't here for moral support and telling me that all was going to be well. But because she needed a fucking wake-up call. Therefore, I collected all my strength and asked, "what's going to happen if I neglect my meds again?"
"Well, the good thing is your T4 cell count has already improved, however, the HI-Virus is a constantly developing virus, and for which we have yet to find a cure. These medications are doing a great job to prevent developing AIDS, and the way they're doing it is by keeping your T4 levels stable. If you're reaching a low like this summer again, there is a high chance the disease will break out. In fact, you've been very lucky this time. I would highly recommend sticking with this dosage for now. From experience, your body will adjust in time."
I peeked at Star, who had finally caught onto the conversation and was listening with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. Shock was written all over her face.
I guess my little plan had worked. And I felt sicker and more disgusted with myself than ever before. Yet, I also knew that I had done the right thing.
