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“I can’t believe you made me fall down a flight of stairs,” Kibum projects into one of the hospital rooms, carted in one of the hospital’s wheelchairs.
Kibum can feel Minho consider letting the chair stutter on the lip of the entrance out of spite at the statement. He elects to lean down to Kibum’s ear instead. “I realize you’re in a lot of pain right now, but you cannot let people think I was that one that made you fall down a flight of stairs.”
“I broke my leg because of you, probably.”
“No, you just can’t help yourself but to say you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Choi Minho before doing something incredibly stupid,” Minho says, putting on his high-pitched Kibum voice, which Kibum thinks is wholly unnecessary, literally adding insult to injury.
The doctor showing them to Kibum’s room presses her lips together at their bickering, electing somehow to ignore it. “We’ll have to wait until the results of the x-rays come back to know for sure if your leg is broken. That could take until the morning, though.”
An array of doctors and nurses push their way in and out of the room, getting Kibum set up and accommodated. He has his own room, with his own television, and a big window. His bed can recline whatever way he wants, raise his leg, call for assistance, give him pain medication once he’s set up to all the machines.
For a moment (and if he’s being very honest, for many moments in his entire life), he’s glad Minho is right beside him. Neither of them like doctors’ offices very much, let alone hospitals. Kibum knows for a fact that Minho’s afraid of needles and beeping medical equipment, but still he’s here.
After the doctor and all of the nurses leave the room, and Kibum is seated safely and comfortably (as comfortably as he can manage, given the circumstances) on his bed, Minho sits in a chair on the right side of his bed with his head sort of hung down. They’re silent for a little bit, letting the television run on some American show neither of them recognizes or understand particularly well.
“You know I don’t really think it’s your fault, right?” Kibum says after a while, reaching an arm out to poke Minho in the shoulder.
Minho huffs, “yeah.”
“I’m surprised that our competitiveness has never put one of us in the hospital before this. I’ve had about a decade-long run of miraculously not seriously maiming myself because of you, which is an accomplishment in itself. Honestly,” Kibum says, poking a little harder at Minho’s shoulder. He wrestles Minho’s arm up onto the bed to hold onto his hand. “Come on, don’t feel bad.”
Another attending nurse walks in, holding a clipboard. Kibum nods at him with a soft smile and gets a bright one in return.
Minho turns to the nurse. “Do you know how long he’s going to be in here?”
They’ve already been in the emergency room for about four hours, and the doctor said they’d be waiting on the x-ray results at least until the morning, which means that Kibum probably isn’t getting out of here any time soon. And he’s definitely not going to make the trip.
“Um,” the attending nurse looks up from his clipboard, a little frazzled. “Depending on if you need surgery. You could be here until New Year’s. If you don’t need surgery, you could be out of here in a few days.”
“Damn,” Kibum says. Minho squeezes his hand a little tighter.
The nurse goes to check all of the machines, writing things down diligently on the clipboard. While writing, he turns to the two of them. “I’m Lee Jinki, by the way. I’ll be your attending nurse probably until you get discharged. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Kibum smiles and looks past him to a clock on his bedside table that reads 1:54AM. He looks back at Minho’s drooping eyes.
“Hey, go home,” he says, shaking his hand a little bit.
Minho immediately brightens up only to look confused. “I’m not just going to leave you here.”
“Aren’t Changmin and Yunho supposed to be coming to pick us up at like eight in the morning?” Kibum’s too tired and on too much pain medication to do the mental math. All he knows is that Minho’s usual bedtime is like 11pm to accommodate for his early bird runs anyway. The poor thing must be exhausted. “You should probably at least get a little sleep before— why are you looking at me like that?”
“If you seriously think I’m going on the trip without you you’re insane.”
“Minho, we already paid for the tickets,” Kibum scrunches up his nose. “If you think I’m going to let you sit here instead of going on the trip you’re insane.”
“Kibum, I put you in the hospital.”
“Technically I ran down an icy staircase and put myself in the hospital.”
Minho just looks at him, exhausted. Kibum continues. “Come on, we spent so much time organizing this holiday trip, I can’t just let you not go on it. Bring Jonghyun, he can take my spot. And he’s probably still awake, so you can just ask him right now.”
“But we spent so much time planning it!” Minho releases Kibum’s hand to fold his arms over his chest in exasperation.
“Even if they discharged me first thing in the morning, there’s no way I’m sitting in a car to Yongpyong for four hours with a possibly broken leg just to watch you guys ski down a mountain from inside a cabin. So, you might as well go, and have fun without me, and bring someone who will actually have fun.”
Minho’s pouting. “But it’s the holidays. And if I take Jonghyun no one’s going to be around to keep you company.”
“I have nurse Jinki to keep me company!” Kibum turns over to look at the attending nurse with a wide smile, who’s finally turned away from his machines and is waiting towards the foot of Kibum’s bed while they spoke, as not to interrupt them. He holds the clipboard in his hands in anticipation, with big wide eyes. Different from Minho’s, but just as big.
Jinki nods and returns the smile, taking up his entire face.
“Before I leave do you need anything?”
“Can I have some water? I feel really dehydrated.” Minho sits straight up and grabs his hand again. “Also, can you kick him out of here?”
“Fine!” Minho says, standing up from his chair but not letting go of Kibum’s hand. “I’m allowed to worry about you, you know.”
Kibum smiles. “No, you’re not. Go home right this second. And then invite Jonghyun on the trip or I will for you.”
Minho hesitates for a second before deciding to leave a messy (but decidedly gentle as not to jostle him) kiss on Kibum’s cheek before grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair.
“Love you,” Kibum calls out.
“Love you too, Kibum,” Minho says from the door. “And Merry Christmas.”
-
Jinki didn’t always want to be a nurse. It wasn’t a lifelong dream of his or anything. In fact, up until college-age, he was deadest on becoming a singer, unrealistic as it may have been. He was really good at it, had been humming and singing and belting for as long as he could remember.
It was a vocal cord surgery he had right after graduating high school that got him to change his pace. Before going in and after coming out, afraid that he would lose his singing forever, he spoke with a nurse not much older than him, who reassured him that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he lost his range, or his voice entirely.
And after the surgery, and a long recovery, he could still sing. He couldn’t quite hit the high notes quite as high or for quite as long, and it didn’t come quite as easy to him. But he could still do it.
In the meantime, though, singing had become the backup plan.
If he could help people, reassure them that they were going to be okay at scary moments, or be otherwise instrumental in their healing process while they sat in a hospital, he would be happy. He found that he would be happier, maybe, than if he had pursued singing after all.
He decided that was going to be okay.
-
There’s not a much less comfortable position to be in than the one Kibum is in right now. There’s a mountain of pillows underneath his leg, stacked high enough that his foot sticks out from under the blanket, and he can’t reach down to fix it. His whole body is tilted a little bit to the left, afraid to put too much pressure on his tailbone, and the television is now playing something in French that Kibum can’t understand.
And all of his friends are in fucking Yongpyong right now probably drinking hot chocolate or sitting on ski lifts or something.
He’s in hell.
He’s in the middle of a long-drawn-out groan into the empty room when Jinki walks in, looking a little flustered.
“You okay?” Jinki looks up from his clipboard and smiles at him. His hair is a little mussed up and he looks like he’s about to trip over himself. Kibum gets the urge to walk over and make sure he’s okay. If he could walk, he would.
“I should be asking you the same thing. You have surgery in the morning,” Jinki starts making his way to Kibum’s bed, resting his clipboard in the table at the end.
Kibum nearly forgot. That would explain why he’s so restless this late. He’s never liked the hospital, let alone the idea of surgery. Especially alone. “I’ll be fine.”
Jinki gives him a look that goes all the way through him. His smile is gentle and warming but the look he gives Kibum isn’t a smile at all. And it’s not pity, thank god. It’s reflective. Kibum supposes he must be, this is his job, he must see nervous patients every hour of every day. But it cracks his façade, just a little bit.
“It is a little cold in here,” he finds himself saying.
Jinki looks down at the blanket and how it doesn’t cover his foot. When he goes to fix it, he says, “I can turn the heat up for you.”
“That’d be nice,” Kibum takes a sip of his water. “If there’s no snow I don’t want anything to do with the cold.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Jinki says, grabbing the clipboard and looking at it before turning towards the thermostat. “Weren’t you and your boyfriend going on a ski trip?”
Kibum chokes on his water when he gasps. Jinki’s moved to rub him on the back and if he weren’t in such a state of shock, he’d be grateful at the touch. He can barely hear the flood of apologies pouring from Jinki’s mouth over his own coughing.
“My who?” Kibum manages to get out, gasping.
Jinki opens and closes his mouth a few times. “I’m so sorry, you guys were just holding hands and he kissed you when he left,” Kibum almost feels bad for the poor guy.
“He’s just like that. Like, the sweetest guy I’ve ever met when he wants to be. But holy shit he is not my boyfriend,” he says, steadying his voice. “Full disclosure he’s trying to get together with one of the guys on the ski trip anyway.”
Jinki nods, a flush creeped all the way up his neck. Kibum watches him walk over to the thermostat next to the door and press at it for a moment. He feels a smile creeping its way onto his face, despite himself, despite the situation he’s found himself in. Jinki is just a little charming, in an absolutely dorky way.
“You never answered my question,” Kibum says, relaxing. Jinki makes wide-eyed eye contact while he walks back over to the bed and his clipboard.
“What question?”
“Are you okay?” Jinki blinks, so Kibum continues. “You walked in here like you were lost.”
Jinki runs his hand through his hair. “I just woke up. Was running a little late, is all.”
“Not a morning person?” Kibum asks, tries not to look past him into the moon shining through the window. “Or, you know what I mean.”
“I don’t mind mornings, I just really enjoy sleeping,” Jinki says, and Kibum can’t help but smile at him.
“So, the night shift is hell for you, then, huh?”
Jinki’s taking down notes at the beeping machines. “It’s not that bad. This wing is relatively quiet. I don’t really go over to the ER, so it’s just sort of just doing my job while people sleep or watch the tv. I can take my time more than you can in the day.”
Kibum nods, pressing his lips together. Jinki has a really soothing voice, and the way he describes things starts making Kibum feel a little more at ease. He doesn’t know how long he’s been awake today, but he didn’t get very much sleep last night. Once Minho had left it was hard to get to sleep, and any time Jinki or any of the other resident nurses came in, he would just do his best to ignore them and forget the fact that he was in the hospital.
This morning he’d been bombarded with texts from Minho (apologizing profusely), Jonghyun (thanking him), and Yunho (texting well-wishes on behalf of himself and Changmin) which was nice but made him feel sort of lonely.
“Did you want me to stay here for a bit?” Jinki asks, hanging up the clipboard at the base of his bed. His tone is very gentle, like it wouldn’t stir him even in a silent room.
Kibum nods, and Jinki sits on the chair Minho had been sitting in last night, and they’re quiet for a little bit. At night, time moves really quickly, or not at all.
“That was really cool, last night, with your friend,” Jinki says, leaning back in the chair.
Kibum scoffs, playing with his nails. “Oh yeah, what was the cool part? Was it when I slipped down an icy staircase? Because I wouldn’t exactly say this is a shining moment for me.”
“I think it’s nice that you told him to go on the ski trip without you,” there’s sort of a twist in his voice, just enough to make sure Kibum knows he’s genuine.
He breathes in through his nose, long. “Kind of wish I hadn’t done that. Is that bad?”
“I don’t think so. You did it anyway,” Jinki says. “I think it shows character.”
And Kibum is just a highly emotional person in general, and doesn’t take kind comments very well, let alone somewhat dazzling statements about his character. Especially not after a long day of sitting around in a hospital alone. He just sits there and purses his lips.
It’s a pregnant moment before he says, with a somewhat broken voice, “then why do I sort of feel like shit?”
“Probably because you’re in a hospital,” Jinki says, very softly, shifting next to him.
“Well that sucks,” Kibum says, voice a little wet. “I feel like a dick because I’m the one that told them to go, but I really wish my friends were here.”
“Well. I’m here. If you need me, you can just hit your button, and I’ll come in as soon as I can,” which sounds like Jinki’s gearing up to leave, but he’s still seated next to him. “Like I said, nights are a little less hectic.”
“Thank you.”
And Jinki stays for a few minutes after that, until Kibum’s eyes start to drift shut, suddenly very tired. The last thing he remembers before Jinki is gone is the beep of his pager, the click of the light, and a gentle touch on his wrist, right below his medical wristband. His fingers are cool, like nurse’s fingers always seem to be, but not so cold that it stirs him awake.
Like everything else about Jinki, it relaxes him.
-
Jinki was in elementary school when he had his first crush that he remembers. And he’s always remembered it vividly, because the boy was loud and boisterous and used to sing in the playground with him during recess, and all Jinki wanted to do was be around him all the time, forever.
And when they got out of elementary school, they never caught up much with each other, but he was still a big part of Jinki’s youth. And that boy wasn’t the end for him, it turned out. There were other people who consumed him in the same way, where Jinki would want to be around them, all the time, forever.
Jinki’s always been the kind of person who remembered that his first love in elementary school loved to sing. That his second love collected red bookmarks. That his third love tasted like strawberry lip smackers. He loves people and has always loved people and will always love people.
It’s been a while since he’s had the time for romance, because his schedule is a little weird, and he loves his job. But he still does love people, more than anything. Maybe that’s what helps him be good at his job.
-
“I’m so bored.”
Jinki walks into the room for the second time that night to this same comment, and Kibum can tell he’s being annoying, but he’s too bored to care. At the very least, Jinki doesn’t seem to be very annoyed. If anything, he seems amused at him.
“I know,” Jinki says, taking a look at the clipboard. There’s a lilt in his voice, a little teasing. The day before, Kibum had gotten the surgery for his leg, and spent that entire day and the next night, and most of today sleeping. And now he’s wide awake, and he can’t move, and he’s bored.
Kibum’s head is a little foggy, from all of the sleep and all of the pain medication he’s on, so he’s squinting his eyes while he talks. “The channels on this television are really shitty and you should take that to the CEO of the entire hospital.”
“Yeah?”
“No,” Kibum says, looking past him at the television. The only channel that isn’t entirely static is in French, and he hasn’t figured out how to turn on closed captioning, because this remote doesn’t even work, and he’s on so much pain medication from the surgery, and technology is stupid. “I’m still gonna complain about it, though.”
He’s adjusting the blankets at Kibum’s feet, Kibum can tell how hard he’s smiling. “How are you feeling, other than the shitty tv channels? Are you too hot or too cold or anything?”
“Are you allowed to say they’re shitty?”
“You did call them shitty first,” Jinki does another sweep of Kibum’s bed, making sure everything is placed correctly.
And it’s very nice and easy. It’s always dark outside when Jinki comes in the room, he’s always cheerful, lights it up, even if it’s at the beginning of his shift and he’s tired. Or well into the night, when Kibum wakes up dehydrated. He always has a gentle and soothing voice. And they, perhaps spurred on by the fact that Kibum’s been so much pain medicine, just get along very nice.
Jinki is just charming, and funny. Easy to like.
“I’m fine, by the way,” Kibum says, smiling. “The temperature and everything are fine. I’m just complaining.”
“Complaining’s fair,” Jinki says, letting his hand fall next to Kibum’s wrist, not touching him but nearly there. “I’d say, given the circumstances, you have the right to complain about a few things.”
And Jinki leaves after that, because Kibum’s been checked up on, and he’s out the door when Kibum hears him start to hum into the open hallway. Kibum doesn’t say anything, because he’s going to be awake in an hour or so when Jinki comes back. He’ll bring it up then, he thinks.
And when Jinki comes back, he makes sure Kibum is awake and still bored, and projects into the room, “how’re we feeling, Kibum? Still bored?”
“So, so very bored,” Kibum groans, flopping back into his pillows dramatically. He is more tired than the last time, and the flopping takes a lot of his energy out of him, so he doesn’t move much from his position other than to lift his head.
“Well,” Jinki says, unable to hide his amusement. “Don’t hurt yourself over there.”
“It’s the perfect place for me to, though. I’m in a hospital.”
“I guess you’re right. But still don’t. I don’t want to have to detangle you from twisted IV wires just because you’re too dramatic to stay still.”
Kibum opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Are you allowed to call me dramatic?”
“Do you mind if I do?” Jinki asks, looking up from his clipboard with wide eyes. For a moment Kibum’s heart jumps at how considerate he looks.
“No,” he says, because he doesn’t. Jinki’s smile returns to his face at that. That definitely makes his heart jump.
“And do you know you’re being dramatic? Or is that news?”
Kibum breaks out into a wide smile, can’t help himself. “You’ve got me there.”
Jinki checks his monitors, and Kibum lets him. He’s turned the television off ages ago, and in between beeping and the low rumble of the hospital’s vent system, Kibum hears it again, the little hum under Jinki’s breath, that he’s not even sure Jinki’s aware of. It goes on for a while, and the more Kibum lets it go on, the more Kibum can tell that he has a nice voice.
“Do you sing?” He asks, leaning his head back, gently this time.
Jinki seems sort of surprised at the question, like he hadn’t in fact realized he’d been humming at all. “I used to,” is what he says.
“You’re humming. It’s nice,” Kibum lets his eyes relax. “It’s like you’re singing me a lullaby. I could fall asleep right now.”
“Might that have something to do with you being bored?” Jinki’s done checking everything now, just standing in his usual spot by Kibum’s bed, hand on the edge, gauging where Kibum is in his recovery.
Kibum moves his arm a little bit to the right, so his forearm grazes Jinki’s fingertips. “I’m not all that bored with you here. You’re really nice. And calming.”
Kibum just sort of lets the words flow out of him. Maybe he is getting tired. Jinki tells him as much.
“Maybe I’ll let you rest, then,” Kibum can hear the smile in Jinki’s voice even from behind his eyelids.
“Okay, but you should sing more, Jinki.”
It’s quiet when Jinki shuffles away, and Kibum is in and out of sleep for a while after that. But he does dream of little musicals, just little pieces throughout the night. He swears there are some lyrics, too, like Jinki’s actually singing. It’s older music, classic, jazzy, almost operatic. By the time he really wakes up, Jinki’s shift is over. But he still finds himself humming.
-
Jinki was always good at making friends. It was the keeping them that was a little harder. He was just dedicated to his job, and there wasn’t a lot of time to spend with people, not when he couldn’t go out most nights, or hang out during the day a lot.
That’s how it was for a really long time, at least, when he was in medical school and when he started his job at the hospital. When he had no real agency over his schedule. It sort of felt like any kind of relationship was bound to suffocate in that environment.
When he met Taemin, it was a little different. Taemin was loud and outgoing, and very forward as a friend. He knew Jinki’s schedule, suggested sometimes they go out for breakfast after Jinki’s shift was over. Would call him at night before a shift to make sure he was awake. Made sure to give Jinki his space and also make sure he had a friend.
Which is how Jinki ended up with a persistent gremlin as a best friend, but it showed him that sometimes persistence is sometimes what you need from friendship. Or any relationship, he supposed.
-
Kibum hadn’t been on his phone much so far in his hospital stay. He’d called his grandmother in the middle of the day for the first few days, cried to her about having to go into surgery, insisted she stay home because there wasn’t much use to her coming all the way to Seoul just to watch him pout for a week. She’d insisted on picking him up on New Year’s Day, which was an agreement he could handle and not feel guilty about.
But other than that, Jinki had dug up some old VHS tapes to hook up to the television so he could watch something other than French soap operas (which, after looking into it, did have closed captioning. Jinki didn’t seem to mind accommodating him, though). He’s made his way through almost the entire Disney Renaissance in a day.
He didn’t have a lot of use for his phone, because most of his friends were either on the ski trip he’d abandoned, or otherwise dealing with their holiday plans that didn’t involve the hospital.
So, when his phone starts ringing, it makes him jump almost a foot in the air.
He checks the clock – it’s nearly eleven at night, and it’s a facetime call from Minho, which is a little late for him. They’d texted a bunch since the trip started, and even called a few times in between surgeries and zip-lining appointments or whatever was on their itinerary.
“Kibum!”
Oh, he’s drunk. That explains things.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Minho says, almost shouting over nothing. From the looks of it, Minho’s in an empty hotel room. There’s nothing to shout over other than maybe the sound of a running refrigerator or falling snow.
Kibum can’t help but smile. Minho’s a sweet drunk. “I’m doing okay. I get to leave on New Year’s Day.”
“That blows,” Minho says, pouting. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna make it up to you. I really miss you up here.”
“I miss you too, but I’m glad you’re having fun. I’ve mainly done a lot of sleeping so that makes the time pass. That nurse, Jinki, has been keeping me company too,” Kibum says, makes sure his voice is relatively low.
“He was cute.”
Kibum snorts. “Yeah.”
He flicks his eyes towards the door, making sure it’s as quiet out there as it has been all night. He feels the tops of his ears start burning.
“I’m serious! He’s really cute,” Minho says, and he says it wistfully, laying back into his pillow. “You should ask him out and then we could go on a double date.”
“A what?” Kibum sits up in his bed, suddenly very awake. “Did you—”
“Not yet! Not yet. But I’m going to kiss him on New Year’s. Or maybe tell him how I feel tonight. I just need you to hype me up because you’re my best friend and you think I’m handsome and unstoppable.”
“And drunk,” Kibum adds.
Drunk Minho is always intense. He’s already got the heart of a nineteenth century romantic poet, and the stubbornness of a bull. And every single time he gets drunk, it gushes out of him like a broken fire hydrant. All Kibum can ever do is support him.
The confession itself was something that was planned for ages, and Kibum was going to be there right next to him in case it backfired. Not that Kibum thought it would. And Jonghyun is there with Minho right now, and he most definitely knows about the plan. A little part of Kibum’s heart squeezes at how Minho decided to call and tell him anyway.
“I’ll do it this time,” Minho says, breathily, like that’s not what he says every time. “Really.”
Kibum hums, a little satisfied. An in-love Minho is one of his favorite kinds.
“Well, I think you’re my best friend, and you’re handsome and unstoppable, and really drunk. And if anything, Changmin will probably take pity on you.”
Minho scoffs. “Ha ha, Kibum. I can do it. And you can tell nurse Jinki that you think he’s cute, too. And don’t even say you don’t think he is, because you’ve been blushing since I brought it up the first time.”
Kibum presses his lips together. “I have not.”
“Yeah you have. But that’s okay because he probably thinks you’re cute too. You know how I know?” Minho is pointing a finger at the screen, tightening up his face at him.
“Because I’m your best friend and I’m handsome and unstoppable?”
Minho lets out a real laugh this time, shaking his camera and punching the sound through Kibum’s speakerphone. “Because you’re my best friend, Kibum! And you’re handsome and unstoppable.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” Kibum says, flush definitely still there. “Go drink some water. And then go confess if you still want to.”
“I really want to,” Minho says, voice somber.
“Yeah, I know.”
“And I’m really going to make it up to you. I’ll adopt a star and name it after you. Or I’ll adopt you a dog. Or we can just steal Roo from Jonghyun,” Minho says, doesn’t stop listing, and Kibum is grateful for him.
Minho hangs up not long after that. Conversations with a drunk Minho are never very long. They’re very to-the-point, and Minho only tends to ramble when he’s sober enough to overthink every thought he’s ever had.
And it’s not long after he hangs up, not long at all, when Jinki walks in with a deck of cards for Kibum to play solitaire on his tabletop.
He hopes it’s the running heater that’s made both of their chests flush. Or, ideally, his imagination.
-
Jinki’s been called many, many things in his life. Clumsy is a big one. Goofy, and embarrassing are also up there in frequency.
But nothing quite hits the nail on the head as much as when someone tells him he’s absolutely clueless. Because it’s never ever meant in a way that’s meant to be a commentary on his intelligence, or anything like that.
The way that it’s been explained to him, is that someone could be asking him out, in the most over-the-top, the most explicit and flirty way, and he would have absolutely no idea. This is something Taemin even noticed, and Taemin’s not particularly well-known for being very observant himself.
He supposed part of it was a self-esteem thing, maybe. But he didn’t particularly think he was unlikeable or anything like that. It had more to do with Jinki just always assuming everyone was as friendly as him.
He explained this once to Taemin, who was stuffing his face at the time, and in between bites called him a dumbass.
-
Kibum is able to get around his room, now, finally, with minimal help. It takes a doctor to put him in his wheelchair, but once he’s in, he can move around the room. The doctors are lowering the dosages on his pain medication, little by little. Without him being able to get around completely on his own, he’s still stuck in the hospital until New Year’s Day. But at the very least, his leg is feeling better post-surgery than it did before, probably because of the screw in his leg.
Jinki finds a Terminator VHS tape when Kibum is sleeping one night and leaves it on his table for him to wake up to. Beside it is a little hand-scribbled note that reads: you’re going to need this for research now that you’re half-robot.
He thinks about what Minho said over and over again. The note only solidifies it more. Jinki is cute. Jinki sings, and leaves dorky notes, and is patient with Kibum nagging and complaining about the food and the television channels and how he can’t move around his room easily, and he has a smile like the sun in the middle of the night.
So what, Minho’s sickeningly romantic tendencies have rubbed off on him. Sue him.
Kibum is sitting in his wheelchair by his big window on the night before New Year’s Eve, and he’s playing Prince of Egypt in the background, and it’s started to snow outside, and the moon reflects on it all the way on the ground, Kibum can tell from all the way up here.
Jinki walks in, stands next to him instead of picking up his clipboard. “You like the snow, huh?”
“I’m wondering if I’ll be able to see the fireworks from here or if it’s just worth it to stay in bed,” Kibum breaks eye contact with the falling snow to look over at Jinki, who looks a little less flustered than usual. “Do you have any idea?”
Jinki shines pitying eyes. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never worked New Year’s Eve here. I always get it off.”
Kibum nods, looking back outside. “Hot date?”
Jinki snorts at that, moving over to Kibum’s chart. “My best friend insists I take it off every year to hang out with him and a bunch of his friends. It’s like a little gathering. It’s really cute.”
“That sounds so nice,” Kibum says, genuinely, endeared to the idea of Jinki gathering around with his friends and getting to let loose. “Good friends are friends who get you to do that kind of stuff.”
Jinki smiles. “I’m not really the type to do it on my own. So it is nice.”
Kibum smiles in return, watches Jinki do his actual job. He sings in front of Kibum, now. Under his breath, like it’s a secret he’s sharing just with him. And Jinki’s face is red, all the way down his neck, because Kibum doesn’t stop watching. And Jinki doesn’t stop singing.
Jinki transitions from singing back to humming, and from humming back to nothing. He turns to Kibum at the window again. “You need anything before I continue my rounds?”
“You’re off tomorrow night, then,” Kibum says, somewhat softly. “Having fun in the real world.”
It’s nothing, it’s really fine, he knows. He knows it’s fine. Kibum’s made friends with some of the day nurses, with his surgeon, with the people that pass by his door. He’s been restless and anxious and sleepy during the day, too, and it’s not just Jinki that is a constant in this environment.
But Jinki walks into his room and lights it up. Jinki’s hand lands on Kibum’s forearm and he goes to sleep still feeling it. Jinki laughs cartoonishly and with his entire body. Jinki looks at people with his entire heart showing, and you can feel it.
And he does that right now, looks at Kibum like he knows.
“You’ll be fine, I promise. Taeyeon’s covering for me in this wing. You’ll love her,” Jinki smiles, leaves a reassuring pat on Kibum’s upper arm. “You won’t miss me too much.”
“Sure I will. We’re friends,” Kibum says.
Jinki’s look turns into something he can’t quite read, then. His hand is still on Kibum’s arm, and his pager goes off. “I’ll be back. But don’t stay up if you’re tired. Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I’m not still your nurse.”
“Not tired,” Kibum says, which is true. The clock is showing that it’s hardly midnight when Jinki turns out of the room, and by the time he comes back it’s almost one in the morning. Kibum’s usually an early sleeper, but maybe it’s the fact that he’s in the hospital, or maybe it’s just Jinki, but he hasn’t minded much staying up later. But, with the medication and the boredom, it does manage to creep up on him sometimes.
“How’re we feeling?” Jinki says, walking into the room with a fair amount of energy.
“Good,” Kibum says, relaxed. He’s moved back into his bed with the help of one of the other nurses on duty. “Just a little tired.”
Jinki laughs, it blooms out of him. “I thought you weren’t tired.”
“I had a whole hour of being bored,” Kibum says, smiling at Jinki’s contagious laugh. “There’s only so much solitaire one man can play.”
“Well I told you not to stay up,” Jinki starts taking a look at Kibum’s machines, moves over to the tray table with an unfinished solitaire game on top of it.
“Well I like talking to you,” Kibum says, leaning back into his pillows.
Jinki makes the same twisted up smile from before, the one Kibum can’t quite read. “That reminds me. Open up your phone for me,” Jinki gestures with the pen in his hand to the phone on the table, continuing to write information down.
Kibum gives him a weird look but does as he’s told. He sets his phone back down, waits for Jinki to finish up with his recording.
“I don’t do this, by the way,” Jinki picks up Kibum’s phone, starts tapping on the screen. Slowly, like someone who isn’t on their phone much. Kibum’s almost endeared to it, but mainly curious. “But I figured since we’re friends and all.”
When he hands Kibum’s phone back, there’s a new contact for Nurse Jinki. Kibum presses his lips together hard to keep from smiling too wide. He does manage to say, “well now I feel all special, nurse Jinki.”
Jinki doesn’t respond to that. Kibum notices his ears turning pink under the fluorescent light. “Since I’m off tomorrow night, I figured I’d give it to you now. You don’t have to do anything with it or anything—”
“No, this is really nice. I’ll message you in the morning, so you have my number too,” Kibum says, feeling his heart somewhere in his throat. It’s so sweet. Jinki is so sweet. He can’t seem to swallow past it.
Jinki hangs the clipboard back up at the end of the bed. He walks back over, lets his hand rest on Kibum’s forearm. The cool touch is welcome, cooling down what he’s sure is a full-body blush. “Do you need anything before I continue my rounds?”
“No,” he says, very softly.
“Okay,” Jinki smiles, rubs his thumb absentmindedly across the back of Kibum’s hand before pulling it away. He pulls at the chain behind Kibum’s bed, turning off the light. “Get some rest then, and if I don’t see you before you wake up, I’ll see you around.”
And Kibum falls asleep almost immediately after that, doesn’t wake up until the next morning, a few hours after Jinki’s shift has already ended. Still feels Jinki’s thumb on the back of his hand. Texts him good morning.
-
Jinki had his first kiss when he was fourteen, sitting in his best friend’s basement, playing video games and eating chips in their swim trunks. It was quick, like he was supposed to wonder if it ever happened at all. He tasted like chlorine and sweet barbecue and felt like when you kiss your own fingers in the cold winter.
He had his first real kiss in high school, and her voice was soft, and her lips were chapped, and he remembered most that her socks had little characters on them, and that her mom would make them leave her bedroom door open. And it was nice, and that’s all it ever was.
He had his most recent kiss when he was drunk, on one of his few nights off, in a bar with some guy who bought him one of the good beers. It was sweaty, and aggressive, and hazy, and exactly what he’d needed. The bar was sticky under his hand and he felt the kiss for days, in the back of his throat and in the scoop of his neck.
He’s never had a passionate kiss in the rain, or triumphant at the airport, or romantic under the stars. He’d never been kissed sweetly under a mistletoe with warm mittens at his jaw. Never been kissed on New Year’s Eve with confetti falling around him. They’re never been grand gestures, just simple moments.
Quick and quiet. Sweet and small. Hard and fast.
-
Kibum is restless the entire day. The nurses help him figure out how to get in his wheelchair by himself, tell him that after an evaluation the next morning, his grandmother can pick him up. The attending nurses in the morning shuffle in and out of his room, talk to him about their families and their plans for the night after they can finally go home.
It makes him feel less lonely, at least, keeps him busy.
He ends up texting Minho, who has officially not made his move yet. He plans to tonight; said he might need a sober pep-talk.
He ends up texting his grandmother about her picking him up tomorrow and when she’ll arrive.
He ends up texting Jinki a little bit in the morning before Jinki goes to bed. They mainly talk about Jinki’s little gathering, his friend named Taemin, their plans for the night. Later on, when Jinki wakes up, they keep talking. About how Kibum can’t wait to see his grandmother, and how he’s going to sit by the window and hope he can see the fireworks from there.
Kibum’s never really had big New Year’s Eve traditions. He’s gotten drunk with his college friends and roamed the city. He’s stayed in with boyfriends watching the ball drop and drinking hot chocolate. He’s fallen asleep before midnight, more than once.
New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big tradition night for him. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t taken it too hard to spend it more or less alone.
It’s a little before eleven, and Taeyeon comes in to check on him. And she’s very sweet and seems very good at her job. She even turns the channel to broadcast the ball drop, on a channel that doesn’t even need subtitles turned on.
He texts Jinki when she leaves: Taeyeon is better at handing technology than you.
It doesn’t take long for him to respond. She’s better at a lot of things than me.
I don’t know that she’d get me a Terminator VHS from the secret hospital archives. Kibum types back, smiling at his phone, humming along to the musical guest.
Jinki’s response is almost immediate. Ah yes, the infamous secret hospital archives. But she would do that for you. She’s very nice.
From Kibum: I bet her voice isn’t as nice as yours.
You’d lose that bet. Jinki sends this message with a little blushing emoji. Kibum purses his lips.
Well maybe I’d just rather you sing to me.
Jinki doesn’t respond right away to this one. Kibum closes his phone, sets it on the table next to him, looks down at the crowd of people he can see gathered up by the lake by his window.
When his phone buzzes again, the message from Jinki glows in the low light of the room.
Sounds like someone just has a crush on me.
Kibum’s glad it’s the middle of the night, and that Taeyeon won’t be by until at least midnight, because he can feel all the blood in his body rush into his head when he reads the text message over again. He can barely make his fingers type a response.
He holds his breath when he does: it does sound like that.
Jinki doesn’t respond, and Kibum doesn’t know what that means. It’s probably for the best. His cheeks are still a flaming red, and he should probably just get a grip. The hour counts down, and Kibum waits for midnight to come so he can just say he saw it, so he can go to sleep.
Minho calls, it’s really quick, and he’s not drunk this time. Tells him that he’s on his way to find Changmin right now, somewhere in the resort party. Kibum tells him, again, that he’s handsome and unstoppable, makes both of them laugh. Kibum really hopes it works out for him. He guesses he’ll wait until after midnight to see if it does.
It’s two minutes to midnight and the crowd outside is loud, roaring outside in anticipation, and Kibum gazes at them from his seat, listening to the echo of the ticking clock on the television.
Almost in time with the metronome of the clock, he hears feet running down the hallway, turns his head to watch Jinki stop right in front of Kibum’s open door, out of breath.
Kibum opens and closes his mouth a few times, unsure of what to make of the sight. Jinki is out of his scrubs, wearing a nice holiday sweater and hat and gloves and a scarf. He’s in the process of unwrapping himself from his outerwear, putting his things at the foot of Kibum’s bed. His hair is styled, like Kibum’s never seen it, and if he weren’t so confused, he’d note how handsome Jinki looks.
“Did you forget something?” Kibum asks. He doesn’t quite know how he manages to say it.
Jinki points a finger at him, still catching his breath. “Does it just sound like that, or do you really?”
Kibum blinks. “I really don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“When I said it sounded like you had a crush on me, you said it did sound like that,” Jinki says. He’s walking slowly towards Kibum’s chair, running a hand through his hair. “But do you really? Or does it just sound like that?”
Kibum only looks at him for a second, a little disoriented.
“I really do,” he says, very softly, like Jinki can make things float out of him. Maybe that’s part of why he likes him.
The crowd outside and on the television start counting down from sixty, an impatient minute. It surrounds him, matching the pulsing of his ears, Jinki’s breaths as he lowers himself to Kibum’s height. He rests one cool (cold, colder than usual) hand on Kibum’s wrist.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Jinki says, and Kibum’s heart is gathered up in his throat, and he manages to squeak out:
“Aren’t you going to wait until midnight?”
Jinki rests his other hand on Kibum’s cheek, thumb against his cheekbone, he leans in very close, breath hot on his lips. With a smile in his voice that he can hear but is too close for Kibum to see, he says “no.”
The crowd is down to thirty seconds, but Kibum can’t hear it anymore, waves crashing in his ears. All he can hear is the intake of breath Jinki takes before kissing him softly and slowly, gently and sweetly. He tilts his head, relaxing into the kiss, feels Jinki’s cold nose on his cheek. His own hands find their way up to grab the collar of Jinki’s sweater to keep him there like he’ll fly away.
Jinki’s lips are so soft, cold like marble, and he pulls away with his eyes closed. Eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks.
Kibum can barely breathe, Jinki infected him with his shortness of breath, with the cold from outside, with a pounding heart, and Jinki starts to say, “I really wanted to do that. I really like you—”
He’s interrupted by the countdown reaching zero, with air horns and noisemakers, with the announcers on the television all yelling “Happy New Year,” by Kibum pulling him back down to his lips by his collar, for a real New Year’s kiss.
Jinki laughs behind it, blooming into his mouth, forcing it out of Kibum as well. Kibum can only keep hold of him, wrapping his arms around Jinki’s neck, kissing him over and over again.
They break apart eventually, and Jinki sits next to him on a chair, holding his hand while they watch another musical performance. Kibum gets a text not long after midnight from Minho: a kiss emoji, a message that reads it worked out!
The night exists in a daze. Kibum measures the time in kisses and heartbeats and Jinki’s steady humming, for who knows how long. At night, time moves really quickly, or not at all.