Work Text:
Medical papers laid scattered across a desk, ruined with ink stains and scuffed handwriting, a cold coffee cup at their side. There was some soft music drifting through the dorm as moonlight leaked through its windows, the desk just shy of it—meaning a lamp illuminated the workspace with a soft, warm, yellow glow.
There were awards on some of the shelves, the apartment a mix of closely organized while simultaneously being disorganized. By the bunk bed sat a nightstand with a record player, slowly spinning, playing piano. The only thing to disturb this quiet scene was the sound of both laughter and protest as two girls danced together on the carpet of the room, standing within the view of the moonlight—window open enough for anyone to see.
As one spun the other around, the shorter girl would protest—eyes sunken from exhaustion and slight annoyance. Her face was slightly pink, as if embarrassed by the whole thing, but she followed the other girl just enough to where she wouldn’t fall and embarrass herself further.
“I was working, we have classes tomorrow, you should be stu-“
The taller girl laughed, guiding her companion into a slow waltz. They were both in loungewear, socks sliding against the carpet with some friction, yet it somehow still looked elegant beneath the sheen of the moon.
“You need to learn to live a little, honestly. Your entire life is work—medicine this, medicine that-“
“Well I’m passionate about my career choice, Da-jeong. I don’t have time for-“
“A few minutes won’t kill you, Bok-su.”
“I beg to-“
Before Bok-su could protest, Da-jeong spun her around again with the brightest of smiles, eyes gleaming with amusement as she caught Bok-su in her arms when she let go and allowed her to fall back.
Her dorm mate was glaring back at her, her face out of the moonlight, clouded by shadow, while Da-jeong smiled mischievously down at her—still within the light.
For some reason Bok-su couldn’t muster an argument; this entire thing felt foreign, as she was accustomed to being alone in everything she did. She never had friends, not this closeness, or the…warmth.
To her, this felt dangerously comfortable. She wanted to lean back at let Da-jeong hold her, and found herself tracing the details of Da-jeong’s face as though it were an anatomy chart, committing even the smallest details to memory.
She eventually scoffed, but wrapped her arms hesitantly around Da-jeong’s waist, who beamed down at her once she realized Bok-su was actually going to dance with her.
Bok-su mumbled a weak reply, now looking away from her companion with a slight scoff.
“Fine. One dance.”
Da-jeong rolled her eyes, but continued to smile nonetheless. She didn’t seem to notice how Bok-su expression had changed—how she seemed just a bit more open than before, a bit lighter in her feet.
Da-jeong guided Bok-su’s steps gracefully, the two blending together even as Bok-su made the occasional misstep. Bok-su eventually gave the tiniest smile as she followed Da-jeong, her frame finally seeming to uncoil and relax. After a moment of listening to Da-jeong hum the tune while they danced, she broke the trance.
“You’re a medical student, not a dancer, where did you learn to dance like this?” She mumbled, although it came off snarky she seemed genuinely amused, giving a small tilt of her head out of curiosity.
“I’ve always wanted to have a family, marry, and the dance that’s done at weddings is the waltz. So I learned how to do it, and would follow the pattern all by myself…”
She paused, looking down at Bok-su with a tilt of her head.
“Although, it’s nicer with a partner, isn’t it?”
Bok-su chuckled, averting her eyes once again after Da-jeong asked that question.
“I guess so. It’s…nice. But I don’t really do these types of things.”
“Hm. Well you should more often. I’ll take you out for karaoke one night-“
“God, please, no-“
Da-jeong laughed, losing her hold on Bok-su who was startled by the loss of rhythm. A part of her expected Da-jeong to catch her, but she fell back onto the carpet below with a hard thud while Da-jeong giggled above her. Bok-su’s face went red, and suddenly she felt stupid. With a scoff, she got up and walked back to her desk. She could hear Da-jeong calling for her through her fit of laughter, but didn’t respond—it only seemed to make Da-jeong laugh harder.
She’d just stare down at her work, pages upon pages of messy notes, worksheets, research papers, and other things in a messy pile. It wasn’t like her to be so unorganized, but she’d been getting both frustrated with her work and too tired to care, which is when Da-jeong had yanked her out of her solitude.
She couldn’t help but think of all of that wasted time she could’ve spent on academics.
Although she picked up her pen, she didn’t write anything. She just stared, her hand slightly shaking as her eyes began to close. Eventually the pen slid free from her loose grasp and she fell asleep, head falling against the desk.
When she woke up a few hours later, she felt a sharp pain in her jaw that creeped right up to give her a pounding headache. Usually she had the mindset to get up and start being productive, but she could only remember bits and pieces and honestly wanted to go back to sleep.
The slight light from a nearby window forced her awake, and so she slowly sat up; then she saw a wine bottle, a quarter of the way empty, and an empty glass on her table. She froze for a moment, her mouth going dry as she slowly looked around, her head clearing, before realization hit her like a blow to the chest, making it tighten and her breathing shallow. Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk, callous, and her eyes didn’t move for a long while—her stare fixed on the bottle, then on her hands, then finally to the picture of her and Da-jeong at her desk.
The most disgusting feeling flooded her: guilt. Because suddenly she’d remembered what she’d done, and it hit her all at once, as well as the fact that the entire night she’d remembered had been an old memory of hers, a dream.
And suddenly she was left with the fact that she didn’t have that friend anymore, nor those aspirations. Instead she was meant to be left with a feeling of satisfaction after making her ‘dear friend’ atone.
Instead, she still felt bitter and pushed down any vulnerability she might’ve felt. She refused to let it show, to regret her choices, and she most of all refused to think of what would’ve happened if she tried to reconcile instead.
In her mind, Da-jeong had deserved it—her life ruined just as she’d ruined Bok-su’s. But sitting here at the desk left her with a reality that felt sickeningly meaningless. She knew even after getting her revenge it wouldn’t give her the career she’d longed for all her life, and deep in the back of her mind, she knew why she wanted to go back to sleep—to relive that dream one more time.
But she repressed that thought, angry at herself, her fingers gripping the wood harder while she forced her breathing to steady—like a mask over her face that was for no one.
No one but herself.
A lone woman, rotten with bitterness, still reading the same medical textbooks as if they’d give her purpose again.
Who, deep down, longed for that dream to be real again.