Chapter Text
For the first time in ages, Song-hwa does not want to reach her destination as quickly as possible. She wants to take her time, to bask in the easy and comfortable conversation that fills her car, and wants to hold on for just a little longer to the person who showed up to support her. It is strange to be this enamoured with Lee Ik-jun again. She keeps staring at him, braving looking away from the busy Seoul streets to take in his face, to try and erase the images of him in pain, his head covered with blood, his expression twisted in confusion about the attack that haunts her every day.
Chae Song-hwa had almost lost her chance.
A thief took one look at the expensive watch and brand name clothing that the HPB surgeon donned and knew that there was a chance that they could make money off of him. Song-hwa remembers getting the call, remembers the fear that gripped her heart as Bong asked for her assistance with a neuro-consult. Song-hwa ran, moving at speed she hasn't reached in years while wishing that she had insisted that Ik-jun meet her that night to receive his gift. Had she done so, he would not have been hurt. And it could have been the night that they finally ended the cycle of disappointing birthdays and missed meetings. They could have spent the night together after, gone out for a walk and a coffee run while Song-hwa mustered up the courage to tell him that she is ready to receive his love.
Finally.
But he was hurt and there was not much more that she could do but dedicate herself to his care. The neurosurgeon does not know why it happened, but the pain and stiffness in her neck returned the night that she spent sleeping upright next to his hospital bed. Song-hwa knew that she should have gone to her office and made an attempt at sleeping on her couch, but she couldn't pull herself away, not when there was a chance that his head injury could have worsened at any point. While he fell into a sleep deepened by the pain medication, Song-hwa took a chance and secretly caressed his face, fingertips running along his thick eyebrows, to the swell of his pale cheeks, and finally smoothing away the tension lining his mouth as he fought dreams summoned by the medication. Song-hwa revels in the warmth of his skin. How he feels alive under her touch. He would never know how she just could not hold herself back, taking his hand after and stroking his palm just to remind herself periodically that he was there with her.
As she watched him sleep, she replayed the night in her mind. The choices that she made scared her a little. She should have handed his case off, found another surgeon or neurologist to handle his case. Song-hwa knew that her feelings were more than platonic and thus they could have affected her ability to view his case with the emotional distance a doctor should have. But she had to be selfish. He was at a work function rather than enjoying his birthday because she hadn't found her courage yet. She is why she could not be at his side as his partner.
She never should have waited. Song-hwa knows that now and all that she could do during his first night in intensive care was show her affection in the only way that was allowed.
No treatment was good enough unless she approved it first, and in her mind, no other hands would treat his injuries better than hers. He isn't special to them. They don't have decades of history and don't carry a love that has peaked and waned over time. All that she could see that night was him. And she overcompensated as a result. In her heart of hearts Song-hwa knew that she was wrong to be his physician, so she dedicated herself fully to taking on multiple cases simultaneously. Guilt riddled her gut even as she worked tirelessly to find a way to preserve her patient's eyesight amongst handling her other cases, because she knew that the extra surgeries and patients would make him worry. And in the midst of working hard, she hadn't taken good care of herself while he recuperated.
She knew that he would scold her if he noticed that evening the extra care that she takes when she tries to turn her head, the way that her shoulders are tense from her attempt to stop herself from raising her arm to massage out the knot in her neck. Song-hwa tries to act as if nothing is wrong, laughing and joking with him as they travel to the nearest train station.
He is going home for two weeks to rest and let his parents take care of him and assist with Uju while he recovers.
She had been fine with the thought of his two week absence until he showed up in her office just to be there for her at the end of her difficult surgery. When she opened her office door to find him there, her heart leapt into her throat and it was all that she could do not to confess then and there.
“Yah, are you listening?” Ik-jun says and pokes her in the side.
Song-hwa's hand flies out to slap away his fingers instantly and she tries to hide the fact that she was spaced out with, “Did you say something worth listening to?”
“Chae Song-hwa-ssi,” he gasps in faux offense “how can you be this way to your precious patient?”
The neurosurgeon rolls her eyes good-naturedly and asks, “Joesonghamnida. Lee Ik-jun hwanjabun, please repeat your statement.”
“I suddenly can't remember,” he says, crosses his arms, and leans back to slouch in his seat. Ik-jun is being petty and Song-hwa can feel her eye twitching in annoyance. God, she is so into him, but he does know how to push her buttons. He purses his lips in mock anger and starts to talk to himself, emphasizing that she left him no other choice but to fill the car with one-sided conversations.
Song-hwa finds her annoyance melting away as he continues his joke and she chances a look at him. A fond smile sneaks its way onto her lips and that feeling rises in her again. She wants to tell him, to let him know that she is there. That she has been there for quite some time. It is just that she gets in her own head sometimes and she worries when she knows that she shouldn't. There is so much to consider: her, him, Uju, and the expectations that come with committing to someone exclusively. Song-hwa can't date Ik-jun casually. His feelings are so far beyond romantic curiosity that it took a long time for it not to overwhelm her. And the added bonus of her sweet Uju. She can't fold herself into their lives if she cannot handle what that would mean to the child. She has to tell him when the time is right, when she can fully dedicate herself to him and Uju in the way that they deserve. And one thing that she knows is that she does not want to change their relationship just to be separated from him (them) for the next two weeks.
They arrive at the train station and Song-hwa turns slowly into the parking lot. She should have dropped Ik-jun at the entrance, but she wants to steal just a few more minutes with him.
She claims an empty spot near the walkway and turns off the vehicle. The woman isn't sure what to say to send him off, her brain is full of statements that she creates and disregards. Song-hwa can't find the words that fully capture just how much she appreciates what he did for her that evening.
When she finally settles how to convey her thoughts, Ik-jun speaks first.
“Thanks for the ride,” he says to her and squeezes her hand in gratitude.
Song-hwa blushes at his touch, but her voice does not betray her feelings, “I can't believe you suggested taking a taxi.”
“You needed to rest after your surgery,” he explains simply as he looks around the vehicle to check that all of his things are together. Song-hwa can't stop the way that affection floods her spirit at how easily Ik-jun thinks of her health. She wants to respond, but he stops to gaze at her and she forgets what she had planned to say.
“Song-hwa-ya,” he begins and looks at her with wide eyes. The amused look that he had been spotting falls away and vulnerability stays in its place. It makes Song-hwa sit up straight, to receive whatever it is he wants to say to her. He licks his lips and clears his throat, “Can I call you? While I'm gone, I mean.”
There is intention behind that question, a hint of something that she knows is important for their future.
“Of course,” she answers, charmed by Ik-jun's nervousness. The woman wants to give him something in return, wants him to know that she isn't running away. When she is ready, she looks him in the eyes knowing that he will understand the meaning behind her response.
“You can call me every day if you want.”