Work Text:
Pattern came into the school clinic like a burglar hiding from the police, shut the door as quiet as ever and walked inside. His black belt tied neatly on his waist. Silence. His eyes scanned the whole room, looking for the female nurse he usually found in this particular room. But instead, sitting calmly at the desk was a young man in a white coat. He knitted his eyebrows, blinked in confusion. “Where is Mrs. Frung?”
The man smirked, “I don’t know. Who are you hiding from?” He glanced at the window, looking at some crowds in the field outside.
“The kids? I mean, the students—specifically those who wear dobok,” Pattern stuttered for no reason (or for such an obvious reason: 'the man looks hot’ and he’s kinda crushing but there is no way he would admit it at the very first meeting), “The white uniform with a v-neck, usually worn by people who do Korean martial arts like Taekwondo …”
“Like the one you’re wearing right now?”
Pattern froze. Yes, of course. He could’ve just said ‘Like this.’ and pointed to himself. “Yeah, obviously.”
“I see. What’s the name again?"
“Uhm … Chayanan?"
“Really? I thought it was daebak or something."
Oh, the uniform’s name!
“It’s dobok, actually." Pattern scrunched his nose, anticipating a response.
“So, Chayanan is … ?”
There it comes.
"My name." Pattern knocked his head. “Sorry, I thought you asked my name.”
The man burst out a laugh. “Okay, Mr. Chayanan. Enjoy your time.” He smiled while putting his elbows on the desk and propped his chin up, staring nonchalantly from his seat.
Pattern found himself awkwardly standing beside the bed. Then, he sat. “Shouldn’t you be treating me with something?”
“What should I treat you with? Tea or coffee, which one do you prefer?”
God, he is so insufferable.
“This is a school clinic, right? I came here for some kind of medication.”
“Alright.” The man didn’t budge. “So, you’re not hiding then?”
“Yes, I am. But not just for hiding, I actually need treatment.” Pattern frown. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing a severely bruised skin.
“Oh my god, what happened? Did you get bullied by the students?” He immediately stood up and rushed towards the bed. “Do you know all their names? You want me to report this to their homeroom teachers or you already did?”
“No, yes … but, no.”
“Speak human, Mr. Chayanan.”
“Pattern. Just call me ‘Pattern’, okay? You make it sound too formal.” He sighed, “No, I didn’t get bullied. And yes, I know their names. But no, they have nothing to do with this. I got the bruises this morning, fell off my bike and the handlebars hit my arm. I didn’t have time to visit Mrs. Frung, because I had class at 9am. Now the kids are looking for me for a sparring match, but I can’t face them properly—at least not when these sting a lot. I have a reputation to maintain.”
He watched as the man wrapped some ice packs in a towel.
“This might hurt a little bit, but I really need you to stay still.” he whispered, gently pressing the wrapped towel onto the bruised skin.
Pattern hissed, winced in pain. He felt the pressure steady for a while. Looking at the man’s expression, he realized it would most likely stay for another few minutes. He took a breath, trying to endure it while keeping his eyes closed and lips bitten.
“Pretty.”
Pattern opened his eyes on a whim. Startled.
That sounded almost like a whisper.
“Huh?”
“Eh?”
Did Pattern misheard it, or … did he not?
“What did you say?”
“Did I say it?”
“You did.”
“I was supposed to say it in my head.” He grinned. “But perhaps it’s better to say it outloud,” He resumed. “You look pretty.”
Pattern stunned. Perhaps, this is what people feel when they lose words. “When I’m in pain?”
“Yeah, and when you’re not. I think you’re just pretty all the time, I guess.”
Saying it as if it was the most common knowledge in the world.
“Uhm,” Pattern scratched his nape, “Thanks?”
“You’re very welcome.” He replied casually. His hands were busy unwrapping the towel, putting ice packs into the box, and reaching inside the drawers. “This is for pain relief.” He continued as he applied the cream gently on the bruise.
“Thanks.”
The man stood up and sat back on his seat. “You already said that.” He answered. His fingers danced around the keyboard, typing stuff on his computer. Paperworks, maybe.
“This time for the treatment—” He squinted hard, trying to read the nameplate on the desk. “—Mr. Keng.”
“Just Keng. We’re the same age.”
“I see. Thanks, Keng.”
“It’s my job.”
Pattern noticed him slamming the Enter key.
“Now you’re good to go. Good luck for your match!”
***
The third time Keng saw Pattern was a couple of weeks after that day. However, this was the first time he saw the taekwondo coach in casual clothes, with a bumpy forehead. At his desk, Keng rested his chin on both palms.
“I slammed my face to the goalpost.” No one asked, but Pattern explained.
“You do know how to play soccer, huh?”
“Needless to say, it wasn’t intended.”
“Well, no one said it was.” Keng came over, brushed some hair on Pattern’s forehead and slightly moved it to the side. “Does it hurt?”
He sounded genuinely worried.
Pattern warmly smiled, “Not really.”
Keng handed a small ice pack wrapped in thin fabric. “Press it for a while.” He murmured as he touched Pattern’s elbow. “The bruise has gone.”
“Yup, I did as you told. Applying a warm compress at night. I have now understood the differences between cold and warm compress.” He paused, “Mrs. Frung never told me.”
“Sometimes, you might need to ask first.”
Pattern nodded.
“Anyway, you haven’t told me where Mrs. Frung is.”
“She decided to continue her study.” He frowned, “The hospital board somehow thought it’s a good idea to put me in her place, so here I am.”
“You sounded disappointed.”
“I hate teenagers.”
“Understandable.”
“Why did you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“Oh …”
“What?”
“I thought you had a crush on her.”
Pattern blinked.
“Actually, I am—nevermind.” He shaked his head. “Nah, whatever. I am gay.”
“Good.”
“I like men.”
“Any man?”
“No, I mean … I don’t like women, so I don’t like Mrs. Frung.”
“Because she’s married?”
He halted. “No. I just don’t. I mean, I like her. But not that kind of like, regardless she’s married or not.”
“Yeah, I know what gay means.”
“So?”
“So what?”
Pattern hesitated.
“You said ‘good’, didn’t you?”
He sounded … hopeful.
“I did.”
“What does it mean?”
“Good is … good. There is nothing bad about being gay, don’t you think?”
Like a Cheshire cat, Keng grinned widely. Such a teaser!
“I hate you.” He frowned as Keng flicked his fingers lightly on the opposite side of the bump.
“No, you clearly don’t.” He giggled.
As Pattern watched him walk towards his seat, Keng leaned back on his chair.
“You’re also a soccer coach?”
“Temporarily.” Hands still pressing lightly onto his forehead, Pattern continued. “Mr. Pao is taking some days off. I am doing him a favor.”
“Oh, so you’re mainly just a taekwondo … coach—or whatever they call it?”
“Saboemnim.”
Keng raised an eyebrow.
“That’s how they call me: Saboemnim.”
“Sounds Korean-ish to me.”
Pattern sighed, “Because it IS a Korean word.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Noted. What else should I know about you?”
“Why should you know about me?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Keng straightened his back. “Remind me again if the school forbids me getting to know my own colleague.”
“Alright, what do you want to know?” He asked. Unwillingly.
Keng pointed to his computer. “Anything you didn’t put in the school system.”
“You have access to my account?”
“Not specific to your account, just your profile which includes education background, blood type, birthday—”
“So, that’s how you know my age then?”
Keng covered his mouth, pretending to be shocked. “Did I say something about it before?”
“The first time we met. You said we’re the same age.” Pattern explained further. “I kept wondering how you could know my birth year.”
“Thanks for thinking about me all this time.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure it was.” He shrugged. “You can’t convince me otherwise.”
“Whatever. At least, now I know you’re committing a privacy violation.”
“I am not. Mrs. Frung transferred her access permit to me because I need to know everyone’s medical needs. In case you forget, I am the one in charge of health care in this school.”
Pattern stayed silent, unconsciously biting his lower lip as he thought. “Makes sense.”
“Good. Can we go back to the previous question?”
“Which one?”
“The one I asked about stuff I should know about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Your hobby, favorite drink, comfort food, ideal type, dessert preference … basically anything you’re willing to let me know, I am all ears.”
As he listened, Pattern grimaced a bit. “I’m quite sure that has nothing to do with my medical needs.”
“Who knows? You can’t underestimate what the future holds. I take notes of everything meticulously. You would be surprised.”
“Soccer. Green Tea. Sundubu-jjigae. Ice Cream.”
Keng waited.
“Anything else?”
“I think you deliberately ignored one question.”
Pattern smirked.
“I don’t think we should talk about it in a school clinic.”
“Which place do you recommend instead?”
Pattern lifted his shoulders, playfully teasing him back. “Some cozy restaurant or at least … an ice cream parlor?”
“Interesting choices. I’m taking notes as we speak.”
“Good.” Pattern put the ice pack down on the overbed table. “I hope you memorize it.”
“For what?”
“Who knows? You can’t underestimate what the future holds.”
Pattern waved his hand as he left.
***
The school’s taekwondo coach, in his white dobok, limped into the clinic. Keng, busy organizing some newly-arrived medical supplies, looked up with a mix of concern and amusement. “Really, Saboemnim?”
“Don’t call me that.”
Keng pointed forward, moving his forefinger downwards while forming a circle—referring to Pattern’s outfit. “That’s what you are when you’re wearing that uniform, right?”
“Yes, but it sounds weird coming from you.”
“Okay, so what do you want me to call you with?”
“Pattern?”
“Boring.” Keng scoffed jokingly. “Too bad, I was ready to call you with a pet name.”
Pattern snickered, “You wish.”
“Yeah, maybe I do.” He smiled. “Anyway, this is the fifth time this month. I’m gonna start thinking you’re injuring yourself on purpose.”
Pattern sat on the bed while grinning. “For what?”
“For getting the best treatment in the whole school?”
“There is only one health-care unit in this school, Keng. I have no other option.”
Keng moved his chair next to the bed, checking Pattern’s left ankle.
“No visible bruises, though.” He raised an eyebrow, “Maybe I’m right … or maybe you’re faking this?”
“Or maybe I just don’t stretch properly.” He shrugged.
“Or maybe you stretch your luck so hard to see me.”
“Or maybe you’re too shameless, Mr. Confident.”
Keng chuckled, sticking his tongue out as he put the chair back. “What if I am?”
“You’re what?”
“Shameless.”
Pattern rolled his eyes. “That’s your business. Why asked me?”
“Just wondering if you’d still come to see this shameless man in a few days.”
“Depends.”
“On whether you’re injured or not?”
“On whether you miss me or not.”
Sitting with his legs crossed, Keng stared mischievously. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Are you not?”
“I am, and I have been doing that since the first time we met. The real question is, did you get it?”
Pattern couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“Insufferable, maybe. But admit it—you’d still come back to see me.”
The taekwondo coach paused, pretending to think. “Maybe. But I can choose not to, you know.”
Keng sighed, also pretending to think. “Then I don’t have to stock more ice packs in the freezer to treat some incompetence coach every few days. Finance would be very glad to see me saving more budgets.”
“Ouch, that hurts more than the ankle!”
“Exactly my goal.”
“Hurting me?”
“Kinda. So I have a reason to treat you.” He winked.
Pattern screamed inside.
He winked.
“I can’t do this anymore, Keng.” Pattern flushed as he continued, “Can we skip to the main part?”
Keng cackled so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
“Okay, so now what … fancy dating me?”
“Saturday evening at the ice cream parlor next to the town hall.”
“At seven o’clock sharp?”
“Deal. It means six at my place, by the way.”
Keng was awed, “Did you just assume I’m gonna pick you up?”
“You’re the one inviting me!”
“Fine. But it also means I’ll be taking you home, right?”
“Of course. Isn’t it kind of a one-package deal?”
Keng smirked, “Does it also include a stay-over coupon?”
“Oh my god!” Pattern took the pillow on his side and threw it to the desk while walking towards the door. “Are you really that shameless?!”
Keng caught it easily and poked his face over the pillow, “I am asking for consent!” He shouted before Pattern stepped outside to close the door.
“Shut up before I cancel our date, Keng Kannaphat!”
Keng smiled, from ear to ear.
Perhaps, getting assigned to a school clinic wasn’t bad at all.