Chapter Text
00
"Hyung," Ricky called early in the morning, dragging me back to earth from a brief meeting with Morpheus*. I reluctantly picked up the call from my bed after going through the 800 something options of "how to murder your best friend":
*Morpheus = Greek God of sleep and dreams :P
"Yes? If I'm not mistaken, I just got home from my shift."
-- meaning that this was supposed to be my morning off and my rightful time to rest and digest. But Ricky, being Ricky, didn't get the hint or pretended to not get the hint, and continued with whatever he wanted to say in the first place. "We have a patient transferred over from the Emergency Room, bed 28."
Ah fuck – It was extra hard for me to swallow that f bomb before I asked "Why not put you in charge?"
"Our higher ups have their, well, eye for judgement." Ricky picked up the line very smoothly,then bid his goodbye in a seeming rushed manner which I knew was just him pretending that he was about to get real busy and hung up before I could even start my rant.
For fuck's sake… I breathed out another unvoiced expletive into the phone, while genuinely wishing Ricky a very bad day.
I tossed my phone away and tried to see if I can get away with just another 2 minutes in bed. My phone decided that I ain’t getting away with that and started ringing again, I picked it up with what almost felt like muscle memory and squinted at the caller – the caller was none other than my dear, sweet little brother, Ollie from the Neurology department, and yes we work at the same hospital. I cleared my throat and tried to fake that admirable big brother personality over the phone: "What's up Ollie?"
"Hyung I dropped the new patient files on your desk for when you get to the hospital and oh the scans are at the nurse's station remember to pick them up okay Imma hang up now hyung byebyeee!!"
Oh for fuck’s sake, I swallowed the third f bomb that emerged from the bottom of my heart, everyone be really getting on my nerves today.
01
"Good morning hyung," Kim Gyuvin was walking over from the other end of the hallway, with a bag of buns in his arms. "Are you heading over to check on Ollie?"
"You'd have to carry me there." I was rather breathless when I said that.
"What's wrong? Another breakup?"
"......" I was speechless for a good two seconds. "No, but I feel like I'll be going into cardiac arrest in any minute."
Kim Gyuvin the next second gasped very dramatically, sprinted towards to me, shoving the buns in my hand, and then grasped onto my hand like the King’s Life Guard, while his other hand took out the phone from his pocked and dialed Han Yujin. "Sire Han you have been summoned," he sounded like he was dead serious about this, "escort His Majesty to a heart CT right this instant, His Majesty is on the verge of collapsing."
Han Yujin was on the other end of the call, I heard him mimicking the tone of a knight, "Aye – God wills it to be done!"
Ricky was so right about this, no one in the Division of Cardiac Surgery is ever in their right mind. These two with their bs medieval roleplay actually woke me up if anything. So I carried my fifty bucks worth of canvas bag towards the office, passing by the nurses' station to pick up the patient's scans, and saw the medical records Ollie left for me on my desk, was about to open and flip through them when I saw Ollie and Ricky walking down the hall in a heated discussion.
"Hyung," Ollie looked somewhat furious, "Ricky said that I’m sick in the head!"
"Which you totally are?" Ricky looked even more furious somehow as he grabbed Ollie's notes from him: "His patient be having a functional headache and he’s putting the patient through a CT scan – Even I know that it’d be a waste of time and I’m the gastroenterologist!"
...... And I think the two of you both need therapy. I pulled them both away from each other’s faces: "Ollie just get back to work back to wherever you came from – I have to tend to bed 28 soon. Ricky why don’t you just go fly and kite and stay out of my sight?"
So I started sprinting to the ward where bed 28 is located, praying while I sprint that the medical records that I had not yet read would not be too complicated to the extent that I wouldn’t be able to digest them in three minutes.
In reality it was way less than three minutes – I was stopped in the middle of sprinting and report the progress of our research to my higher ups, and then stopped by Brian who just got off his shift at General Surgery – he feared that I’d be kicking the bucket soon with my current schedule and gifted me a with cup of bubble tea, unsweetened – what an angel he is forreal.
So after all that mess I opened the door to the ward where bed 28 was at and had only one thought in mind:
Damn. I really should have at least checked what my patient’s name is.
02
Yes indeed. Sitting on that very bed was none other than my ex-boyfriend, Sung Hanbin, and this was my first time seeing him again in two years.
Never in my life had I seen a patient who looked so… un-patient-like, the way he was. I couldn't even tell that this man was hospitalized other than the fact that he was in a patient gown - he had some very professional looking headsets on him and looking at the screen with undivided attention, a dance video projected on his lenses - a dance video.
I cleared my throat, and he looked up and stared at me with a stunned and baffled expression -- I assumed that he was trying to figure out whether I was the doctor or not -- then took off his headsets.
"Long ...... long time no see?" He tossed out his first few words tentatively.
I nodded, twitching my lips a little, then flipped his medical charts open: "Gastrointestinal bleeding?"
"Yeah… “ He took off his glasses and leaned back on the pillow behind his back, shutting his eyes and rubbing his brows as a relief, “GI Bleeding two days ago, happened when I got home, so I was sent here to the Emerg."
"I see," I said, "after recovery you should be discharged from the hospital with no problems, just take your prescription meds regularly and come back for follow up exams."
"Can I not take meds?" Sung Hanbin asked me with a slight wink and his trademark toothy smile. But that smile ain’t fooling me, as I proceeded to shatter that baseless illusion of his: "Only in your dreams."
"......" Sung Hanbin asked again after a moment of silence, "Can I have a smaller dose of meds please?"
"......" I genuinely questioned if he was even in his right mind. "You really think that you’re gonna get away with it?"
"Then ......" he looked at me and smiled again, "Can I invite Dr. Zhang to dinner?"
03
One of the first reasons I broke up with Sung Hanbin was because of my parent’s disapproval. My parents are … very traditional Asian parents so to speak. They could not and would not accept me being with a man. They also held onto that very bigoted mindset of as long as I leave Hanbin, I’ll be able to marry a fine lady and give them grandchildren.
At first I fought it being the rebel I was – I wasn’t 17 or 18 anymore, something like my parents cutting off my allowance wasn’t going to be the end of the world. But gradually we realized that… it wasn’t just our parents who weren’t willing to understand or accept us, it was our society as a whole, and our completely different circadian rhythms.
That magical umbrella shielding you from the “real world” disappears once you’re out of school. It was only after starting work that I realized what being surrounded by gossipers was like. Occasionally I’d hear some of my colleagues speak under their breaths during their breaks and about “whether Dr. Zhang was gay or not”, and I would see passersby pointing at me when Sung Hanbin picked me up from work with their same old homophobic comments.
I never thought that being attracted to the same gender was an unspeakable thing, but all these looks I’ve gotten and words I’ve heard were telling me one thing: You’re not the same.
Sung Hanbin and I had been in love for seven years, never once had we doubted our love for each other. But at the end of the day, I’m a doctor, he’s a dancer and theater actor. It’d almost always be me coming home from a draining day at the hospital, craving to cuddle with him in bed, and he’d be changing at the door heading to his late-night rehearsals. We were living under the same roof, but I honestly got to see my neighbour’s dog more than I got to see him.
I needed his hugs to give me the courage when I knew it was us against the world, but unfortunately … and ironically, I didn't even have the time to hug him.
So I broke up with him.
The first few days after the breakup was when it really felt like “me against the world”. I fell down the stairs, had countless issues with my ongoing research, was mentally unstable to the point that I could be simply out to get groceries and get home with nothing that was actually on my grocery list.
After Ricky gave me the "I knew it" look for the 99th time, Ollie asking me "are you okay hyung” for the 101st time, and Brian checking on me (taking that length trip from General Surgery Dept. pretending that he was only “dropping by”) for the 98th time, I decided to finally use up my vacation entitlement at the hospital and stay home to recuperate.
Staying at home was really. I managed to gain three pounds, and then woke up to the epiphany that people should always be looking forward, and that there's more than one road to Rome. So I deleted all his photos (but not his Kakaotalk/WeChat) and got back on my feet to fulfilling all my duties that I’ve sworn to the Hippocratic Oath*.
* Hippocratic Oath = an historical oath, requiring a new physician to swear upon a number of healing gods that they will uphold their professional ethical standards.
After those two years, I have finally, finally let go of him.
Or so I thought.
Just as I saw him sitting on the ward bed smiling at me, I heard something snap in my head, a string or something.
Forget the whole “think before you speak” shit, I already started subconsciously condemning him as a boyfriend, not a doctor.
I never asked him what events lead the gastro bleeding, but it’d be impossible to forget the SSRI* noted under the medications section of his patient charts. Antidepressant meds are typically associated with multiple degrees of gastrointestinal effects, in particular increases the risk of upper gastrointestinal bleeding, especially if one was undergoing emotional fluctuations. And if this hypothesis holds true, then he must have been diagnosed with anxiety or depression with a long history of meds.
*SSRI - Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, the most commonly prescribed antidepressant medications
But he just… kept on smiling.
There was a brief moment where I felt the urge to pull him up by the collar and tell him to stop, fucking, smiling-- but I had to repeatedly tell myself that I was just his ex-boyfriend, nothing more, if he needed any form of help with mental health and counselling it should be left to a psychiatrist, not me.
"Dr. Zhang," Sung Hanbin asked me, "what should we have for dinner?"
"It’s your treat, so whatever you have in mind"
"I was thinking of hotpot?"
I gave him a death glare as I pictured the boiling, greasy and spicy red broth -- Before I was about to give him that lengthy gastrointestinal lecture he deserves, he took that back, smart move. "Then, let’s go for, umm .... congee?"
"That's better."
It was only when I put my seatbelt on that I finally knew what felt off from the moment he brought up congee – I don’t remember there being a congee place in this part of the city? Sung Hanbin looked back at me through the rearview mirror and replied smoothly:
"We’re going to my place."
......
????
Who in their right mind invites their ex to dinner AT THEIR OWN PLACE?????
04
"I'm actually not even surprised that your guts are bleeding." I opened his fridge and could not suppress my urge of roasting him.
Residing in this King-size refrigerator were two cans of beer, and a few shrivelled lemons lying around, it’d be a miracle if they haven’t gone bad yet. In the cupboard next to the fridge sat two packs of instant ramen, it really was about as empty as his living room.
However, it did look like he was doing pretty well financially -- because the last time I saw such a “marbly and metal-ly” home like this was when we were working the red eye shifts, and Ricky took us to his condo almost right next to the hospital for a power nap. He told us that it was a "small" place that his parents prepared for him in case he wouldn’t be able to get home on time, turns out he had never actually spent a single night.
"If I may," Ollie asked, sitting down while carefully inspecting the place, "how much did you pay for this place?"
"You want a place here?" Ricky replied rather absent-mindedly. "Probably just, like, 10 million (not krw) or so?"
Ollie shut his mouth and never spoke another word.
Compared to Ricky’s place though, his place wasn’t as atrociously big for a condo, it was just the frigid metal and marble furnishing that gives me the chills.
"I don't always get to eat at home." Sung Hanbin said, carrying the groceries into the kitchen.
"Yeah right, more like you don’t always get to EAT."
Although I was technically the guest, I wasn’t going to have my patient cook my meals in the spirit of humanitarianism, so I took charge and told him to just be my chef assistant. He rolled up his sleeves and started washing up the veggies, occasionally helping me slice up some ginger, standing side by side as if neither of us left in the first place.
After this rather bitter realization, I didn't know what to say anymore. Sung Hanbin was not the chattiest person either, so we just stood by the kitchen table and prepped our dinner in silence.
"When I bought the place it was already furnished like this.” After seeing me frowning at the pitch black, somewhat relentless tabletop, Sung Hanbin felt like he needed to give me an explanation. "I didn't have the time for interior design, after moving in I just didn't feel like I had the energy to change things up... How would you have changed things up?"
"Buy some flowers or something," I pulled out my chair, reminding myself that this is NOT my home -- "It all depends on personal preference."
Sung Hanbin stopped talking, ladling the congee out from the pot into a bowl and handing it to me with downcast eyes. The subtle clatter of ceramic spoons was gradually filling the silent gap between us, whilst the fragrance of white rice and fuzzy steam from the congee reminded me -- he is the patient, I am the doctor, doctors are not allowed to engage in a romantic relationship with their patients, especially so for patients with anxiety/depression.
Besides, I don’t even know if he still likes me after 2 years.
"Dr. Zhang?" Sung Hanbin's voice brought me back to reality, "Are you free next Friday? Was hoping to treat you to dinner properly."
I went over my schedule for next week in my head, vaguely remembering that I should have time off Friday evening. "I should be free, will let you know in advance, not sure if I’ll have to work overtime again or something."
Silence again.
We finished our meals in silence, expected nothing more, and I started putting the dishes away in the kitchen sink being the good guest I was. Just as I was about to wash the dishes with a sponge Sung Hanbin said, "there's a dishwasher over there."
I genuinely, genuinely don’t understand why someone who doesn’t even eat at home would bother getting a dishwasher? Home Décor? After then considering the possibility of it came with the furnishing, I put the bowls in after a quick rinse, and let the machine start humming away at the back.
"Hyung," Sung Hanbin called, and I instinctively looked away, not wanting to look at his piteous eyes, almost like those of a kitten of a little hamster. “Can’t you stay for a bit?"
I didn’t answer him, more like I couldn’t answer him, so I attempted to cover up my internal struggles and wavering heart with the noise of the dishwasher. But Sung Hanbin didn't give me that chance, he tugged at my sleeve and asked again:
"Hyung, can’t you stay?"
I knew I should pull my sleeve back and give a firm “no” – we’re adults, we all know what’s going to happen if I stay for the night. He was sick, and I could not use his state of vulnerability as a potential excuse of getting back together. Being a good ex should be as good as being a dead body.
But as soon as I looked up I was drawn into his eyes.
He stood beneath the cool white light ceiling light, his face illuminated to a sickly pale, when I first saw him he only seemed slightly skinnier but now he looked almost hollow-cheeked. He was still smiling, even the corners of his lips were exactly the same as how I remembered them, except that I knew that this was in no way a genuine smile, at least one that he meant it.
What exactly happened in those 2 years, making him into… this?
The unspeakable guilt and vague tender heartache that had been gnawing at my sanity all afternoon, suddenly swept over me like a tidal wave. I was aware that that this guilt might not have much to do with something I've done wrong, and I knew that I was not in the qualified position to feel sorry for him.
And yet, after avoiding eye contact again, I heard myself say softly: "Alright, I'll wait for you to fall asleep."