Chapter Text
넌 내 기억을 지워야 돼, I'm poison
I know I can't take it no more
(Don't love me, love me no more)
A person is composed of 270 bones at birth that make up their human skeleton. Over time the bones fuse together, decreasing in quantity to 206. Most of these bones are in the hands and feet: 26 in each foot and 27 in each hand.
By the time Wonwoo was 9 years old, he could name every bone in the adult skeleton and all of the muscles in the anterior compartment of the forearm.
He was fascinated by the human body, from the trillions of synaptic connections to the way a person’s environment played a significant role in their psychosocial development.
Everything about a person fascinates Wonwoo.
And whilst other little boys looked towards the sky and marvelled at the sheer brilliance of the stars, or gawked at the animations of video games, Wonwoo was nose deep into medical journals trying to understand their cogent philosophical dialogue.
Wonwoo was 15 years old when his neighbours came to him with money in trade for medical assistance for the first time.
For a middle class family, the donation was kindly accepted and suddenly Wonwoo’s bookshelves were filled with gauze, antiseptics and various types of sterile suturing kits.
Word had begun to spread of Wonwoo’s gifts through his neighbours’ connections within the ghettos of the city; people with both empty and heavy wallets would pay for his assistance.
And then something happened that changed the course of his entire life, almost as if it were fate.
. . .
“Wonwoo!” a voice shouts, ripping open the front door. “Where the fuck are you? Get your ass over here and help me drag him in.”
Taking off his glasses, Wonwoo closed his textbook and raced towards the commotion at the front door. “What’s going on?” he asked, scratching the back of his head. Wonwoo rounded the corner of his lounge at the same time his white socks stepped into a puddle of crimson, soaking up blood.
“…what the fuck?” Wonwoo whispers, lifting his feet. “What happened now?”
“Wonwoo,” his father yells. “It’s the senator’s son, we need you over here right now.” Wonwoo reluctantly followed the trail of blood towards the kitchen. Two men in suits pushed Wonwoo into the kitchen as his mother starts pulling towels and supplies from the living room shelves.
“He was stabbed in the chest,” the man behind Wonwoo whimpers, ploughing his trembling fingers through his disheveled silver hair. “I can’t go to the hospital. It will ruin my career and the elections are right around the corner, you must help me.”
Wonwoo watched those bloodshot eyes dart towards the disfigured body on his table. “Save my son Wonwoo, I’ll do anything.”
“Calm down, I don’t have much of a choice now do I, but I can still try.” Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo reaches over the boy who is trying his hardest to breathe. Scanning his eyes down the injured body, Wonwoo lifted the tatters of his basketball shirt, revealing a gaping wound over his lungs. It’s enough to kick Wonwoo into action.
“Okay sir, I’m going to need your credit card or a big piece of plastic,” Wonwoo turned to his mother as she passed him a pair of scissors. “I need tape, something strong. Dressing tape won’t do it for the amount of blood coming from his other lacerations, maybe duct tape?”
Cutting straight through the boy’s clothes, Wonwoo exposed his chest as the senator hands Wonwoo his credit card. “What are you going to do with it?” Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Wonwoo places it on his abdomen as he quickly put on a pair of gloves.
“Don’t ask,” placing the card over his wound, Wonwoo looked up at the man. “I’m going to need you to hold this. Apply some pressure okay?” He immediately rushes over, holding the card to his boy’s chest as Wonwoo observes his neck for any enlarged neck veins or tracheal deviation.
Wonwoo’s mother passes him slithers of tape as he taped three sides of the card securely, leaving the side facing towards his chin free. “Eomma, I need you to watch his breathing and his trachea. If it shifts to one side, you tell me immediately.”
“Will do. Does your father need to grab anything from the closet?” she asks, side eyeing the senator cautiously. “Any drugs?”
“Do we have any strong pain relief left?” Raking his eyes down the bloodied boy, Wonwoo turns back to his father. “Appa, if you can’t find any, grab some fentanyl and you know that little purple box I have in the closet that’s got the label ‘Chest Tube Tray’ on it? I need you to grab it too.”
“Where is your please?” The man snaps, cocking his brows at Wonwoo. “Don’t forget your manners Wonwoo.”
“Go and grab the life saving equipment I just listed please,” Wonwoo grits his teeth, turning back to the sobbing father in front of him. “Sir, you should sit down. Exhausting yourself out isn’t going to help this situation. He’s going to need you when he wakes up-”
“What does the card do? Is he going to be okay?” He interrupts, pacing around the room. “That fucker came out of nowhere and my boy, my boy pushed me out of the way and took the knife.”
“He’s brave but also stupid. Very stupid. This card, it will act like a chest seal and burp the air out-” Wonwoo turns and grabs the suturing kits behind him.
“-and if this doesn’t work I’m going to have to do needle decompression to deflate the build of air around his lungs. I want to avoid tension pneumothorax as much as possible and to be completely honest with you sir, if that happens… I can’t… I’m not confident that I can help him,” Wonwoo stared up into his glistening red eyes and with the most serious expression he could muster, Wonwoo whispered. “Sir, I’m only 15.”
“No, no no no,” The man sobs, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck no, this can’t be happening. No, please child,” he cries, removing his hands from his face as he grabs for your shoulders, shaking you with every ounce of energy he seems to have. “I don’t care how old you are. We’ve heard about your talent and I know you can do it. If there is anyone out here who can save him, it’s you. Save my boy Wonwoo, you must save him.”
Wonwoo gulped nervously, trembling beneath his hands. “I’ll t-try my best Mr. Park.”
“Please save him.”
It was a strange evening for the 15 year old Jeon Wonwoo, caught in between the life and death of another, but a lucrative step towards his successful future. Wonwoo had saved the senator’s son that night, and unknowingly saved himself from a lifetime of debt.
. . .
By the time Wonwoo was 18, he held every trick in the book for knife lacerations, overdoses, and gunshot wounds. He had a fair amount of money that secured his independence and he wanted wholeheartedly to be a doctor, where Wonwoo could put his abilities to a better use.
And with support from the senator, that is what he aimed to be.
Even if it meant suturing lacerations in a pair of Louis Vuitton Major Loafers on the night of his high school graduation ball.
Living a normal life, or at least one with aspects of normalcy, wasn’t a luxury Wonwoo had with dreams as big as his..
So, as he walked through the doors of the Seoul National University College of Medicine wearing a grey knitted sweater, blue boyfriend jeans with his head held high, Wonwoo’s heart raced at the thought of walking back out six years later with an MD and a white coat.
Wonwoo just never expected to meet Kim Mingyu along the way.
↣ 2006 First Year | Seoul National University College of Medicine
Wonwoo first met Kim Mingyu in his cadaver lab in freshmen anatomy and physiology.
Wonwoo was so young.
And Mingyu was so …annoying?
For example, As the tutor designated lab partners, Wonwoo hurried to find the correct page in his workbook instead of worrying who he'd be paired up with. Wonwoo hurried to catch up with the setup, admittedly he was far behind. In doing so, Wonwoo hadn’t noticed Mingyu from the other class now standing on the other side of Wonwoo’s table watching the bespectacled man amusedly, hands crossed over his pristine white coat.
For a disclaimer, Wonwoo did not hear him say hello and it’s not like he’s hard of hearing or that Kim Mingyu was a quiet person, it’s just that Wonwoo had genuinely gotten used to people avoiding him that he thought the taller might’ve been talking to someone else.
It was coincidental becoming lab partners with Kim Mingyu when he had only approached Wonwoo to “compliment” his strategic work at the same time the tutor began putting people into pairs. Wonwoo tried to detach himself from the current situation, and promptly trying to ignore the fact that he was hot.
This is weird
They both watch the stressed out teaching assistant write Kim Mingyu’s name beside Wonwoo’s on the spreadsheet over the overhead projector with a suddenly certain feeling of unease as he curls the ‘yu’ obnoxiously in Mingyu.
It was fate.
But, it was far from a fairy tale.
Rumors had circulated about Wonwoo’s upbringing as soon as he had set foot in the orientation lecture theatre a couple of months back. His history as a black market surgeon bounced off the walls of the hall by gossiping students behind him and a couple exaggerating and almost fictitious accounts of his skills with a scalpel and a suturing kit roughly swept throughout Wpnwoo’s cohort.
They branded Wonwoo as some kind of genius.
Though, Wonwoo really had no choice growing up in a very average household with a very large debt. He was well supported by his connections but that meant nothing at the end of the day when he could fail a class and get kicked out. Wonwoo’s skills meant nothing.
Mingyu still thought it was a genius move to get close to the “quickest” and “most experienced” hands in class, but as obvious as he could be with his desire to get close to Wonwoo, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed with pretty much anything else; not exactly tuned with the best social skills.
Not to mention, Wonwoo was too invested in examining the decaying flesh beneath his blue gloved fingertips to notice the tall boy in question had been twiddling his thumbs in front of Wonwoo, waiting for him to start the conversation.
Mingyu finds himself giving up on waiting and initiating a conversation, a refreshing change in his life. “I know we haven’t talked before but I’m Kim Mingyu and I was wondering…can I maybe get your number?”
“Forgive me if I am wrong,” Wonwoo poked the cadaver’s carotid glands with his forceps, “Are you seriously trying to flirt with me in a dissection lab Kim Mingyu?”
“I like to think of it as emotional support, thank you. I, Mingyu, am here for you.” He spoke, followed by a smile with his canines out.
Goddamn it Kim Mingyu, why did you have to smile like that
“You really know how to cut to the chase,” Wonwoo laughed at the pun as he cut a piece of connective tissue off the cadaver’s head. “Thank you Mingyu, but I don’t need your support.”
“Come on,” crossing his arms behind his back, he walks around the table watching Wonwoo examine the head and neck of the cadeva so intensely he almost feels bad for interrupting. “First year is all about networking. I just want to get to know you.”
Wonwoo’s gaze flickers to the shiny black dress shoes beside his own cheap white canvas trainers. “I’m not anyone worth networking with.”
Mingyu laughs brightly regardless. “Exactly why I want to connect with you. Shouldn’t you be thinking about connecting with me? It would be good for your career, that’s if you pass school.” He stands closer, leaning on the cadeva table.
Wonwoo frowns. “I don’t need connections, I just need to pass okay and I’m dissecting an old man right now Mingyu, shouldn’t you be dissecting something too? Perhaps, page 57?”
“I am.” he says confidently.
Wonwoo lifts his own gaze to the latter’s as he placed the forceps and scalpel back onto the tray beside him. “Well, clearly you aren’t since I’m doing this all on my own.”
The grin that etches across Kim Mingyu’s face is implorable. Wonwoo suddenly wants to smack him. “I am. I’m dissecting you.“
Oh for fucks sake.
“Really?” Wonwoo exhaled, ripping the blue gloves off and throwing them at the boy beside him. “Well shit Kim Mingyu, if the cerebral embolism didn’t kill this man, your attempt at wit would’ve.”
“That bad?” Mingyu faux grimaces.
“You’re going to have to try better than that, Kim Mingyu. In fact, why don’t you practice your dissection skills alone and think about it.” He laughs awkwardly as Wonwoo walks away, leaving him, confused, to complete the dissection project on the cadeva alone.
. . .
The next time Wonwoo saw Kim Mingyu, he was wearing a $560 beige lapel coat from a European designer brand paired with a white turtleneck sweater worth just under $200. The girls beside Wonwoo at the bar had excitingly totalled his outfit to just over $1100 and Wonwoo didn’t even need to turn around to know he looked good. Money always looked good.
Wonwoo had compared his own sweatshirt to the wealth radiating off of his golden skin, clearly grossly underdressed in his clearance scores. Just because Wonwoo had a lot of money too, didn’t mean he liked to spend it on things he'd probably stain.
Parting the crowd, Mingyu had spotted Wonwoo’s familiar build swaying to the music. He could recognise the silhouette of those broad shoulders anywhere. Wonwoo was clearly intoxicated, and Mingyu felt himself pulled as if by magnets to Wonwoo’s side.
“It’s you,” Mingyu says, slapping his palms on the wooden bar beside Wonwoo. “Didn’t think you’d come out. I’m pleasantly surprised.”
Wonwoo gazed at him, pushing up his glasses, eyes dropping down his outfit. “I thought students were supposed to be poor and struggling, why are you walking around dressed like a God wrapped in a taco shell?”
“Like a God?” Shaking the tips of his raven hair out from his eyes, he leans on the bar beside Wonwoo. Emanating confidence, he rubs his thumb across his bottom lip whilst languidly staring at Wonwoo’s. “Sweetheart, I am struggling.”
Looking back at his face, Wonwoo cocks an eyebrow. “How enlightening, and what exactly are you struggling with Kim Mingyu?”
He steps closer, leaning his face down to Wonwoo’s ear. The hot breath against his neck gives goosebumps but the feeling doesn’t last long when Mingyu whispers roughly, “I’m poor in your affections and I’m struggling to get your attention. I just want to get to know you, maybe even spend some time with you.”
Wonwoo smacks his forehead as he pulls away. Pulling out his credit card and holding it between two fingers in the air above his head, Wonwoo desperately seek out the bartender. “Hey Jinho, 4 shots of tequila please, hold both the lemon and the salt. I have a bad taste in my mouth that I need to get rid of.”
“I got this round,” Mingyu says, passing the bartender a 50 dollar note, “You can buy it next time.”
“He’ll buy this round,” Wonwoo exhales, immediately shoving the card back into his wallet. “Who says there will be a next time?”
“I’m hoping there will be a next time.”
“Touché.”
Wonwoo has to give him credit, as the night went on, Wonwoo actually had fun. He had a lot more to talk about with this oversized puppy than he had anticipated and the boy was kind enough to drive Wonwoo home too after he downed all four shots of tequila and began raving about the new bedsheets he got on sale.
Apparently, Wonwoo is very enthused by Egyptian cotton and was tipsy enough to invite Mingyu over to feel them.
He was curious enough to agree.
Passing him a water bottle, Wonwoo sat in the passenger seat of his porche feeling more sober than he liked as Mingyu slowly drove him home. Wonwoo was touched by the gesture since Wonwoo had motion sickness and Mingyu was reducing the likelihood of Wonwoo vomiting on his precious white leather seats.
Everything turned to shit when Wonwoo realised that Mingyu was both a good looking golden boy and a lovely human being -alcohol may have aided that judgment, but it was still true when Wonwoo was sober.
The streetlights had glowed iridescently orange through the sudden rain pattering on the windshields and Mingyu tensed his jaw, frowning at the idea of getting his new car cleaned.
Wonwoo gulped nervously as he returned his gaze ahead. Wonwoo made the distinction that he is very much attracted to Mingyu when he looks serious and right now as Wonwoo clenched his thighs closed, he wished he’d never gotten into the man’s car.
This is further reiterated in Wonwoo’s skull twenty or so minutes later when he watched Mingyu place his right arm on the back of Wonwoo’s seat, and the other on the wheel as he slickly reversed back onto Wonwoo’s driveway.
“Is it okay if I park here?” he asks, re-aligning his car in the park anyway. “Wonwoo?”
Wonwoo was quick to shake his head out from his stupor. “It’s fine, let’s just wait until the rain stops before we go in.”
“Sure.” he smiles and lord have mercy on Wonwoo’s growing boner, he was definitely taking Mingyu home and showing him his egyptian cotton sheets.
And then the rest was history.
They were an unlikely pair -the socially awkward, quiet nerd with the obnoxious golden boy- but one formed when Wonwoo impulsively climbed out of his seat to straddle Mingyu while they made out in the driver’s seat in front of Wonwoo’s dimly lit apartment building on a glorious rainy Friday night. It was the beginning and they both were crazed by sex; convinced that he’d never have the opportunity to do it when he graduates and becomes a doctor.
. . .
“Min, we have about ten minutes until people start filling up the lab, hurry up and take your pants off,” Wonwoo whispered, slamming the door behind him.
Wonwoo wasn’t fucking around today.
Taking off his glasses and lab coat, Wonwoo begin unbuttoning his beige woollen cardigan as he walked towards the back tables where at least they could hide if they were to get caught. “Did you finish the lab book last night? I think the TA’s checking them today?”
“Woah,” Mingyu snorts disbelievingly, unbuckling his belt behind Wonwoo. “This is our first friendaversary and you’re treating me like a piece of meat already. You aren’t mucking around today are you?”
“That’s because you are a piece of meat and does that mean you haven’t?”
Laying the white coat on the bench of the empty classroom, Wonwoo kicked off his black sneakers and Mingyu pulled down his grey trousers.
“I didn’t even bother doing the readings, I think I remember a proficient amount from last year.”
“I’m well liked as a chubby piece of meat thank you,” Dropping his own expensive suit pants, Mingyu walks towards Wonwoo in the corner. “And of course I did. Are you sure you want to do this instead of quickly copying me? The TA’s a dickhead.”
“He’s a good guy okay?-” Wonwoo turned back to him as they both slam the books on their designated table. “-it’s Seungcheol’s first year in this gig. He’s just doing his job. It’s not his fault the dean saddled him with the first years, give him a break.”
“The dean was also just doing his job, give him a break too,” slipping out of his underwear, Mingyu steps closer. “But can Seungcheol do his job without favouring you, it drives me nuts when he drools over you.”
“Hey,” Wonwoo whispers, running his slender fingers down Mingyu’s toned chest. “A flower doesn’t compete with the one beside it, it just blooms.”
Raising his hand to Wonwoo’s face, he vice pinches his chin as he cocks a brow at the shorter. “Are you calling me a flower?”
“Is this the kind of dirty talk you like?”
“Can you be my bee?”
“Oh, because you want me to pollinate you, is that what you want?” Wonwoo rolled his eyes, “Why did I know that was coming?”
“Want to know what else is coming?”
“Oh Jesus, just kiss me or I’m getting nachos with extra cheese before class starts because fuck you.”
Cradling Wonwoo’s jaw, Mingyu leans towards Wonwoo’s lips as he tangles his fingers through Mingyu’s silky black hair. “If we finish early, we can still get nachos Won?” The hairs on his arms tingle in anticipation, as Wonwoo scours his fingernails down the latter’s scalp and down his neck.
He shivers at the feeling as Wonwoo smiles against his lips. “You’re after my heart aren’t you Kim Mingyu?”
“Extra cheese, extra guacamole.”
“I’m hard already.”