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The elevator doors groan open as Dr. Lee Heeseung slips inside, the fluorescent lights buzzing above him like a restless pulse. It’s too early to be awake, and he’s barely processed his existence, but hospitals don’t exactly wait for anyone’s emotional readiness.
He presses the button for the 9th floor and leans against the metal wall.
His white coat hangs loosely from his shoulders; his phone reflects a tired pair of eyes as he lifts it for a quick elevator selfie. Habit. Not vanity. Just… proof of life. Something to remind himself he’s still here, still trying.
He doesn’t post it. He never does.
He pockets the phone and closes his eyes as the elevator hums upward—past the 2nd floor, the 3rd, the 4th.
A date flickers in his mind.
Today.
He frowns.
He didn’t mean to remember.
He’s been doing a good job not remembering.
But his body remembers the way some wounds do—quietly, stubbornly.
Today marks the anniversary of the last time he saw Kim Sunoo.
Not in passing.
Not as acquaintances.
But as something almost.
Something soft and trembling and hopeful.
Before everything stopped.
Before Heeseung threw himself into medicine like it could cauterize the hurt.
Before Sunoo disappeared from his orbit without explanation.
His throat tightens.
He wonders sometimes, in weak moments, where Sunoo is now.
If he’s happy.
If he’s okay.
If he still hates him for leaving things unfinished.
He tries not to wonder too often.
The elevator stops; a pair of nurses enter mid-laugh.
“…I heard Dr. Jung saw someone really pretty yesterday,” one teases.
“Who?”
“Some old friend. He said he ran into them at the café near the ER.”
Heeseung’s heart stutters.
He shouldn’t hope.
He shouldn’t assume.
But hope is irrational like that.
Still…
Sunoo was always pretty.
He keeps his eyes forward and pretends not to hear.
The elevator dings on his floor. He steps out.
He breathes.
He lets the thought go.
He has patients to see.
✦
Rounds are routine.
He checks a post-op patient.
Reviews labs.
Listens to an elderly man ramble about his dog.
Calms a teenager panicking over chest pain.
He’s good at this.
He’s steady hands and calm voice and quiet efficiency.
It’s easier to focus on other people’s pain.
Easier than looking at his own.
Near the nurse station, he spots Dr. Yang Jungwon—hair messy, glasses foggy, juggling three clipboards.
“Hee!” Jungwon pants. “Perfect timing. Can you handle a pediatric consult later? I’m double-booked and I swear pediatrics is trying to kill me.”
Heeseung lifts a brow. “I’m not peds.”
“I know, but Dr. Park is running late.” Jungwon pleads dramatically, clutching his chest like he’s in a drama. “Please, hyung. Just do the vitals and initial assessment until he arrives.”
“Fine,” Heeseung sighs. “What time?”
“Family said they’ll be here around eleven.”
“Alright.”
Jungwon beams. “You’re an angel. I owe you coffee.”
Heeseung waves him off, unaware of the emotional wrecking ball waiting just a few hours away.
✦
10:56 AM.
Heeseung is in the pediatric exam room, sanitizing his hands, arranging the baby scale and recording sheet.
He doesn’t mind covering.
Kids are messy but honest.
They don’t pretend.
They don’t break your heart on purpose.
He hears footsteps outside.
Soft ones.
Then faster ones.
A small giggle.
He smiles faintly. Cute kid.
He walks to the door and pulls it open—
—and the world tilts.
Sunoo stands right there.
Same soft eyes.
Same delicate features.
Same gentle energy that always pulled Heeseung in without trying.
But he’s changed too.
More mature.
Brighter.
Warmer in a way that tells Heeseung he’s loved—properly, deeply.
Sunoo freezes, eyes widening.
His breath stutters.
“Heeseung…?”
Heeseung can’t speak at first.
He didn’t prepare for this.
Didn’t brace himself.
Didn’t think he would ever see Sunoo again—let alone like this.
The silence lasts two seconds.
Then—
“Sunoo, babe, do you have the wipes?”
Heeseung blinks.
Babe?
A second figure appears, stepping behind Sunoo—tall, broad-shouldered, handsome in a clean, quiet way.
Park Sunghoon.
Heeseung recognizes him immediately—they all went to the same university.
Sunghoon looks at Heeseung with polite surprise. “Dr. Lee? Oh. Hi.”
Heeseung forces himself to stand straight. “Sunghoon. Hello.”
Then he notices it:
The tiny girl clinging to Sunoo’s shoulder, her tiny fist gripping Sunoo’s coat.
Big doe eyes.
Pink bow.
Chubby cheeks flushed from the excitement of walking down the hallway.
And then—
Sunoo adjusts her protectively, bouncing her gently.
And she giggles.
Something inside Heeseung caves.
Sunghoon wraps an arm around Sunoo’s back, steady, comfortable.
He presses a quick, natural kiss to Sunoo’s temple while shifting the baby bag.
Sunoo doesn’t even blush.
He leans into it like muscle memory.
Like home.
Heeseung’s throat tightens painfully.
He wasn’t ready.
He wasn’t ready for this.
He manages, voice softer than he intends:
“…You have a baby.”
Sunoo blinks, startled.
“Oh—yeah. Um. This is Hari.”
Hari stares at Heeseung.
Then drops her toy stethoscope on his shoe.
Sunoo laughs, breathless. “She does that when she likes someone.”
Sunghoon smiles proudly. “She’s very friendly.”
Heeseung picks up the stethoscope carefully.
Hari reaches out, tiny fingers grabbing his coat.
He feels his heart splinter.
Sunoo and Sunghoon shift toward each other naturally—Sunghoon’s hand on Sunoo’s waist, Sunoo instinctively resting his cheek on Sunghoon’s shoulder as he adjusts the baby.
They look… whole.
They look like everything Heeseung once imagined having with Sunoo—before Heeseung chose medicine over certainty. Before Sunoo walked out of his life with quiet tears and a trembling smile.
Heeseung swallows the ache.
“Well,” he says softly, “let’s get started.”
✦
Inside the exam room, Heeseung checks the baby’s vitals.
Sunoo stands close, swaying gently as he holds Hari.
Sunghoon hovers protectively but respectfully.
Hari babbles and grabs the otoscope like it’s a toy.
Sunoo laughs—bright, like sunlight through curtains.
It takes everything in Heeseung not to fold.
Sunghoon lifts Hari next. “Come here, princess.”
Sunoo brushes her hair back softly, fingers delicate and tender.
Their wedding rings glimmer in the light.
It’s cruel how the smallest things hurt the most.
Heeseung clears his throat. “She’s healthy. Perfect, actually.”
Sunoo beams. “Thank you.”
Heeseung nods.
Sunoo’s voice softens.
“Heeseung… it’s really good to see you.”
He looks up.
Sunghoon steps closer, gently brushing Sunoo’s shoulder.
A wordless I’m here.
Sunoo doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t pull away.
And Heeseung realizes:
Sunoo didn’t come back into his life.
He just happened to pass through it again—with the family he built without him.
Heeseung forces a smile that feels like swallowing glass.
“It’s good to see you too, Sunoo.”
A lie.
A truth.
Something in-between.
Who knows?
Hari clings to her toy stethoscope as Sunghoon helps her button the tiny cardigan she kept unbuttoning out of excitement. Sunoo packs up the wipes, the bottles, the little pouch of snacks that every parent ends up carrying no matter where they go.
Heeseung stands near the exam table, gloves already disposed of, hands washed, chart updated.
He’s done.
He should leave.
But something roots him to the floor.
Maybe it’s the way Sunoo hums while fixing Hari’s bow.
Maybe it’s the way Sunghoon looks at them with a softness Heeseung used to dream of giving.
Maybe it’s simply the shock.
He still can’t breathe right.
Sunoo turns to him, offering a hesitant smile.
“So… you’re a doctor now. A real one.”
Heeseung breathes out a small laugh. “Yeah. Somehow.”
Sunoo chuckles. “I always knew you’d make it.”
Sunghoon looks between them, curious but not tense. He doesn’t know the history—they’d been careful in the past.
Only Heeseung and Sunoo understand the weight hanging between them.
Sunghoon adjusts Hari on his hip. “Thank you again, Dr. Lee.”
Heeseung shakes his head. “Just Heeseung is fine.”
Sunghoon smiles politely.
“Then just call me Sunghoon.”
He shifts Hari’s toy bag. “We should get going. Noonoo has class later.”
Noonoo.
That nickname stings.
Sunoo used to tell Heeseung he hated it—too cheesy.
Now he smiles when Sunghoon says it.
Sunoo looks up at him.
“Maybe we’ll see you around?”
Heeseung nods, though everything inside him whispers please don’t let it hurt this much again.
“Yeah. I’m on the ninth floor most days.”
Sunoo’s fingers fidget with the strap of his bag.
“Oh. Okay.”
Sunghoon touches Sunoo’s back gently, guiding him to the door without pressure—just familiarity. Love.
Sunoo leans back into the touch without even thinking.
Heeseung feels it like a bruise pressed too hard.
They step outside.
Hari waves her little hand at Heeseung.
“Daaa!”
Heeseung’s lips tremble into an unwilling smile.
“Bye, Hari.”
Her giggle echoes down the hallway until they disappear.
And only then does Heeseung allow himself to exhale the breath he’s been holding since the moment Sunoo walked in.
✦
Heeseung leans against the counter outside the exam room, coat falling open slightly, stethoscope cold against his collarbone. He presses a palm to his eyes.
A voice cuts in.
“You look like you saw ten ghosts and lost a fight with all of them.”
Heeseung looks up.
Jake Sim stands with two iced coffees and the kind of face that looks like he hasn’t slept since 1999.
He hands one to Heeseung.
“You’re drinking this,” Jake announces. “Because you look like you’re about to pass out.”
Heeseung accepts it blankly.
Jake squints. “What happened? Did a kid puke on you? Did a mom yell at you again? Did someone call you Dr. Lee when you specifically told them to call you Heeseung because you’re still insecure about being perceived as an adult?”
Heeseung doesn’t laugh.
Jake’s smile fades instantly.
“…Heeseung?”
Heeseung swallows hard.
“I saw Sunoo.”
Jake’s whole body goes still.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “That… oh.”
Heeseung nods numbly.
Jake leans next to him, voice softer. “How did it go?”
Heeseung’s throat tightens.
“He has a kid.”
Jake shuts his eyes.
“…and Sunghoon?”
“And Sunghoon,” Heeseung whispers.
Jake curses under his breath, but gently, respectful of the wound that just split open.
“Shit.”
Heeseung laughs, humorless.
“Yeah.”
Jake lets the silence settle for a second before nudging Heeseung’s shoulder lightly.
“Do you… wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
Yes.
He doesn’t know.
Jake waits.
Heeseung sighs shakily.
“He looked happy.”
Jake hums. “Was he?”
Heeseung nods. “Yeah. Really happy.”
Jake gives him a sad half-smile. “Well… if he’s happy… that’s all we ever wanted for him, right?”
Heeseung knows Jake is right.
But it still burns.
✦
Sunoo doesn’t speak for the first five minutes on their way to the parking lot.
Sunghoon notices.
He always notices.
“Hey,” Sunghoon says gently, adjusting the strap of Hari’s diaper bag. “You okay?”
Sunoo blinks out of his daze. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You’re quiet.”
Sunoo forces a small smile. “Just tired.”
Sunghoon studies him for a moment—steady, calm, unreadable, yet caring.
“Did something happen in there?” he asks softly.
Sunoo swallows.
He hesitates.
He doesn’t want to lie.
But he doesn’t want to open this wound either—not here, not now, not with Hari babbling in Sunghoon’s arms and grabbing his face.
So he simply says:
“That doctor… Heeseung… he was someone I used to know.”
Sunghoon nods slowly.
“An old friend?”
Sunoo looks away.
“…Something like that.”
Sunghoon doesn’t push.
He brushes his thumb over the back of Sunoo’s hand.
A grounding gesture.
“Whoever he was,” Sunghoon says quietly, “I’m here. Okay?”
Sunoo looks at him and manages a real smile.
“I know.”
He squeezes Sunghoon’s hand.
And Sunghoon squeezes back.
✦
Later that night, 1:12 AM.
Heeseung sits at the on-call room desk, charting.
He’s been charting the same patient for fifteen minutes.
He hasn’t written a single useful sentence.
His mind keeps replaying it
Sunoo holding the baby.
Sunoo wearing a wedding ring.
Sunoo leaning into Sunghoon’s kiss like it was second nature.
He thought he prepared himself for the thought of Sunoo being happy with someone else someday.
But imagination is gentler.
Reality is merciless.
A knock sounds on the door.
Jungwon peeks in, hair messier than usual.
“I heard what happened,” he whispers.
Heeseung groans. “Jake talks too much.”
“Not really,” Jungwon says. “He just said he was worried. That’s different.”
Heeseung sighs.
Jungwon steps inside, sits beside him.
“Do you regret it?” he asks softly.
Heeseung hesitates.
Regret?
He regrets the timing.
He regrets choosing residency over Sunoo before he ever had the courage to choose him properly.
He regrets thinking Sunoo would wait.
But regret Sunoo’s happiness?
Never.
“…I regret not being brave enough,” Heeseung finally says.
Jungwon nods slowly.
“Sometimes,” he murmurs, “we don’t get the person. But we carry the lesson.”
Heeseung laughs weakly. “What’s the lesson, then?”
“That love doesn’t disappear,” Jungwon says simply. “It just… changes form.”
Heeseung’s eyes sting.
He hated crying.
He’s always been too proud to let anyone see.
But tonight, with his heart cracked open and reality sitting heavy on his chest, he lets his head fall forward into his hands.
Jungwon squeezes his shoulder, quiet as a friend should be.
And Heeseung whispers, voice breaking—
“I didn’t know it would hurt this much.”