Work Text:
Jin Cheonhee looks at snow.
Cheonhee, you are not able to be a doctor.
The past calls him in misty trailers of incense. The delicate aromas that dance through his home gather tenderly around him.
But, if I were a patient, I would like to have you as my doctor.
His hands lose their grip on his tunics. He lets wrinkled fabrics fall, feeling the dampness of blood adhere deeper. It pierces through the surface and stains the whiteness of his inner clothes. Even with the nauseating familiar aroma, Cheonhee remembers something lost among the stars of his memory.
He opened the door with force. He entered with a smile, two bags of medicine, and his sunny personality. His superior stepped in and lookd at him with something similar to the warm summer he had never known in his childhood. In the midst of his fever, Cheonhee had murmured his soft complaints: how the neighbors would bother him about the noise, how the cold was creeping into the room, and about the characteristic stupidity of his superior. But that person, whose name he no longer remembered, had stayed by his side.
Im looking for you. Im looking for you.
CheonHee inmerses into the high peaks, his snowwhite peak and lost blizzards swirling through his shadowed irises. He wishes to go there.
I miss you.
He wanted the words to slip from his lips with a short breath, but he pressed them shut with force. He deeply wishes to disappear that thought, for today, tomorrow, and perhaps for eternity… at least until he meets the Leader of the Blood leader cult. Until he sees him and feels him, hoping to find only a strangely familiar face, whispering to his aching heart.
But I dont want to die.
He does not want to find the superior of the snow. Smiling, cold, standing at the summit, waiting for his arrival to break celestial energy. He does not want the sword that pierces his neck, like a crimson brushstroke on a paper. He does not want to fall into winter once again, one of so many times he no longer remembers, waiting for time to flow once more.
I want to rest.
Silence slips into his cracks. Winter begin in his soul and spreads to his gaze.
Cheonhee looks at the cloudy sky, at the tear that had fallen frozen in the Northern Ice Palace. At the head of his younger brother, Yeo Haryun, the invincible protagonist; at Gongson, at the prince, at the elders, at his little finger and his faltering sanity.
To his first death, Cheonhee offers the silence that floods his mind for a few milliseconds.The snowflakes begin to fall again in the clinic and Jin Cheon-Hee, once more, walks on.