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The fluorescent lights of the breakroom flicker slightly against the low rumble of the hospital’s central ventilation. Gathered around a small television screen mounted on the wall, the pediatric surgery team sits in varying states of exhaustion. On screen, the newly finished broadcast of the hospital documentary plays out—a polished, heart-tugging feature designed to burnish Sungwon University Hospital's public image.
A clip of Park Shi-on appears. On screen, Shi-on sways slightly, his hands folded stiffly in front of him, his posture tense as he stammers through an explanation of pediatric anatomy with unfiltered, innocent precision.
Woo Il-kyu scoffs from the back couch, leaning his head back against the faux-leather cushion with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Look at that," Il-kyu groans, crossing his arms over his surgical scrubs. "If the public sees this, they’re going to think all of us in pediatric surgery are just like him. It makes the whole department look incompetent."
The room drops a few degrees in temperature. Kim Do-han, standing near the door with his arms crossed, turns his sharp gaze toward Il-kyu. His jaw tightens before he speaks, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register. "Watch your mouth, Resident Woo," Do-han commands, each word laced with absolute authority. "If you spent half as much time reviewing your patient charts as you do making ignorant remarks about your colleague, you wouldn't be lagging behind in rounds."
Il-kyu immediately snaps his mouth shut, ducking his head with an uncomfortable cough. In the quiet corner near the water cooler, Shi-on’s fingers twitch against the hem of his white coat. He catches the stern weight of Do-han’s protective reprimand. Beside him, Cha Yoon-seo shares a quick, knowing glance with Shi-on, her eyes softening with quiet solidarity.
A short while later, the heavy doors of the empty operating theater echo as Kim Do-han pushes them open, ushering Shi-on inside. The room is cold, sterile, and quiet, lit only by the overhead shadowless lamps that hang like silent observers over the empty operating table. Outside the observation window, Yoon-seo stands in the dimly lit corridor, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her lab coat, her brow furrowed with concern.
Do-han stops near the center of the room and turns sharply to face Shi-on. "Imagine the scene," Do-han demands, his voice stern and uncompromising. "Seven-year-old male patient. Acute hemorrhagic shock following a severe hepatic laceration. The vitals are dropping rapidly. Blood pressure is 60 over 40 and falling. You are the lead surgeon. Lay out your procedural sequence—now."
Shi-on’s eyes begin to dart rapidly across the empty space above the operating table. His hands tremble at his sides, fingers twisting into the fabric of his trousers. The familiar, overwhelming surge of spatial visualization fills his mind, but the pressure suffocates the clarity.
"We cannot lose this patient like last time, Park Shi-on," Do-han’s stern voice cuts through the stillness, mercilessly raising the stakes. "Every second you waste hesitating is a heartbeat lost. What is your first incision? Speak!"
Panic takes root in Shi-on’s chest. His breathing turns shallow and rapid, high-pitched gasps echoing off the stainless-steel equipment. He clutches his head with both hands, swaying back and forth near the table as the phantom alarms in his mind ring deafeningly. "I... I..." Shi-on stammers, his shoulders hunching up toward his ears. "The... the portal vein—no, the hepatic artery—"
"Time’s up," Do-han barks loudly, his voice echoing in the vast room. "The patient cardiac arrests. Flatline. You’ve just lost another child."
Shi-on snaps his eyes shut, hyperventilating as perspiration beads across his forehead. "Professor... please," Shi-on pleads in a raspy, desperate voice, wringing his hands together frantically. "Can we... can we take a short break? Just five minutes, please."
"No," Do-han snaps without a shred of leniency. "There are no breaks in an emergency room when a child is bleeding out on your table. Continuing this exercise is pointless if your mind shatters under pressure. Do you think practicing on your own in an empty room late at night will make a difference if you freeze when it matters?" Do-han steps closer, his sharp eyes searching Shi-on’s pained, downcast face. "You aren't the type to give up easily, Park Shi-on. So why are you stalling?"
Shi-on lifts his chin slightly, his lips trembling, eyes wet with unshed tears as he looks up at his mentor. "Then... how can I keep doing something that won't work out?" he asks, his voice cracking with raw frustration and helpless despair. "No matter how much I memorize, my heart keeps beating too fast. How can I fix that?"
Do-han steps directly into Shi-on’s line of sight, his face a hard mask of tough love. "Then quit," Do-han says flatly, the harsh words cutting through the cold air like a scalpel. "If you keep this up, you won’t be a surgeon holding a scalpel to save lives. You’ll be no different than a murderer holding a knife."
The words hang heavy in the air, devastatingly absolute. Do-han turns on his heel and marches out of the operating theater without looking back. The heavy doors swing shut behind Do-han, and a moment later, Yoon-seo enters softly. She walks over to Shi-on, who stands frozen by the empty surgical table, staring at his trembling hands.
"Shi-on-ah," Yoon-seo says gently, her voice full of warmth and empathy. She reaches out, gently touching his arm. "Come on. Let’s go outside and get something good to eat. My treat. It’ll help you blow off some steam."
Shi-on abruptly pulls his arm back, stepping away from her touch. His chest heaves as he glares at the floor, his defense mechanisms flaring up under the sheer weight of his humiliation. "I don't want to!" Shi-on shouts, his voice loud and brittle. "I'm not a child who only likes to eat when he is sad! Stop treating me like a little boy!"
Before she can reply, Shi-on turns and storms out of the operating room. He marches down the long, quiet hallways of Sungwon University Hospital, his footsteps heavy and hurried.
"Shi-on-ah! Wait!" Yoon-seo calls out, trailing closely behind him. Her shoes click rapidly against the polished floor as she pursues him through the rear exit toward the outdoor courtyard. "I know you're upset! Just slow down for a second!" She finally catches up to him near the dimly lit garden path behind the hospital ward, grabbing his coat sleeve to pull him to a halt. "Listen to me," Yoon-seo breathes, trying to catch her breath. "Professor Kim is just trying to toughen you up. He pushes you harder because he knows how brilliant you are, Shi-on-ah. You have to understand his methods—"
"I know all of that already!" Shi-on interrupts sharply, his hands twisting into tight fists at his sides. "I know why Professor Kim does it! I am not stupid!"
Yoon-seo blinks, taken aback by the intensity in his eyes. "Then why are you so upset? Why are you reacting like this?"
Shi-on turns his face away, his shoulders rising defensively as a deep, uncomfortable red flush creeps up his neck. "Because... because I feel embarrassed around you these days," he mutters, his voice dropping into a tight, muffled whisper.
Yoon-seo frowns, genuinely confused. "Embarrassed? Around me? Shi-on-ah, why on earth would you feel ashamed around me of all people? I'm Yoon-seo. You can tell me anything."
The words burst out of Shi-on before he can stop them, tearing from his throat in an explosive confession. "Because... I like you!" Shi-on hollers into the night air, his voice shaking with intense emotion as tears finally spill over his eyelashes. A sudden, sharp hiccup hitches in his throat—*hic*—making his shoulders jump. "Because I hiccup and my heart races whenever I see you!" Shi-on cries out, pointing a trembling hand toward his own chest, his voice full of unbearable anguish. "My mind goes completely blank and I act like an idiot! I don’t want to look dumb in front of someone I like! I want to be a cool man for you, but I can't!"
Yoon-seo stands frozen, her mouth slightly open, completely stunned by the raw honesty of his outburst. She looks at him with deep sympathy, her heart aching for the pain he is holding. Gingerly, Yoon-seo steps closer and reaches out, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Shi-on-ah..." she says softly, her voice filled with tender affection. "I love you too... but I love you like a younger brother. You're so precious to me, like family."
The word *brother* hits Shi-on like a physical blow. The air leaves his lungs in a soft gasp. He stares at her for a long second, his heart crumbling beneath the gentle kindness of her rejection.
Without another word, Shi-on ducks his head, pulls away from her hand, and shuffles rapidly away into the darkness, ignoring her distant calls echoing behind him. He stumbles aimlessly into the narrow, dimly lit alleyways that run along the outer perimeter of the hospital grounds. The night air is cool, but his face burns with shame and sorrow. Suddenly, two young men step out from the shadows near a row of stacked plastic crates, reeking heavily of cheap soju and sweat. They block Shi-on’s path, swaying slightly on their feet.
"Hey, look at this guy," one of the drunken youths slurs, pointing a finger at Shi-on’s white doctor’s coat. "What’s wrong with your face, doc? Why are you sniffling like a baby?"
Shi-on tries to step around them, keeping his eyes glued to the pavement, his chest still hitching with residual hiccups—*hic*.
"Woah, hear that?" the second punk laughs nastily, stepping directly into Shi-on’s way and shoving his shoulder roughly. "He’s hiccupping! Look at the way he walks and twitches. Hey, mister, are you not right in the head or what?"
"Let me pass, please," Shi-on stammers, trembling as he tries to squeeze past.
"Don't ignore me!" the first punk snarls, grabbing Shi-on by the lapels of his white coat and slamming him back against the rough brick wall of the alley.
Shi-on cowers, shielding his head with his arms as the two men laugh, landing a sharp kick to his shin and a harsh shove that sends Shi-on sprawling onto the cold asphalt. Fear freezes his body, a deep, primal trauma locking his muscles. Suddenly, a tall figure charges out from the shadowed mouth of the alley. Han Jin-wook appears like a force of nature. Without hesitation, the fourth-year resident steps between the thugs and Shi-on. With swift, practiced efficiency, Jin-wook grabs the first punk by his jacket, planting a devastating crack straight to his jaw.
"Get your hands off him!" Jin-wook roars, his usually warm and mild-mannered voice turning thunderous with fury.
He catches the second drunk with a hard blow to the cheek, popping the man's jaw back as the attacker staggers violently toward the alley entrance. Sitting helpless on the damp ground, Shi-on stares up through blurriness at Jin-wook’s broad shoulders silhouetted against the streetlights. In Shi-on’s traumatized mind, the memory flashes vividly—the image of his late hyung, Si-deok, standing over him years ago in Sabuk, protecting him from the neighborhood bullies in the exact same way.
In the distance, the sharp wail of a police siren echoes down the main street. The two drunken punks scramble back onto their feet, clutching their swelling jaws in terror.
"You crazy bastard!" one of them yells back as they flee down the street. "He didn't even need us to beat him up—look at him, he probably hurt himself because he already looks like a half-wit!"
Jin-wook starts to march after them, his fists clenched, but he stops himself, hearing Shi-on’s harsh, ragged breathing behind him. Turning back immediately, Jin-wook reaches down, taking Shi-on gently by the elbow and hauling him up from the asphalt.
"Come on," Jin-wook whispers urgently, dragging Shi-on deeper into the dark, quiet shadows of the narrow alley, away from the streetlights and the main road.
Jin-wook guides Shi-on until Shi-on’s back rests securely against the cool, solid brick wall of a quiet alcove. Shi-on is hyperventilating violently now. His eyes are wide and unfocused, his hands clutching his own chest as the overwhelming panic attack takes full hold of him. His body shakes uncontrollably from the sensory overload, the rejection, and the violent encounter. Jin-wook recognizes the signs instantly. He steps into Shi-on’s personal space, careful not to startle him with sudden movements.
"Shi-on-ah," Jin-wook says, his voice dropping into an impossibly soft, grounding murmur. "Look at me. Look straight at my eyes."
Slowly, carefully, Jin-wook places his hands lightly on Shi-on’s trembling shoulders, using steady, firm pressure to bring him back to reality. He takes deep, deliberate breaths, demonstrating the rhythm for Shi-on to mirror.
"Breathe with me. In... and out. You're safe. I'm right here with you."
Shi-on stammers through his tears, his breath coming in jagged gasps as he looks into Jin-wook’s warm, steady gaze. "I... I told her..." Shi-on chokes out, dissolving into a pitiful, heartbreaking sob. "I confessed to Dr. Cha..." He buries his face in his trembling hands, tears streaming down his bruised cheek. "She said... she said she loves me like a brother... It hurts so much, Sunbae... My chest feels like it's burning..."
Shi-on looks up through his tears, his eyes wild with desperate sorrow.
"Sunbae... have you ever dealt with unrequited love? Please tell me... how do I get rid of this pain? How do I make it stop?"
Jin-wook freezes. His hands remain anchored on Shi-on’s shoulders, his thumbs softly stroking the fabric of Shi-on’s coat. A heavy, pregnant silence settles between them in the dark alley, save for the quiet sound of Shi-on’s sniffling. Jin-wook hesitates, his throat working as he swallows hard.
"Yes," Jin-wook confesses softly, his voice trembling with a rare, quiet vulnerability. "I have. I deal with it every single day."
Shi-on blinks, wiping his wet eyes with the back of his sleeve, looking up in faint confusion.
"Shi-on-ah," Jin-wook asks gently, his brown eyes locking onto Shi-on’s with profound sincerity. "Do you remember... what I told you a few months ago? On the roof after our late shift? About my orientation?"
Shi-on squints slightly, processing the memory through his fog of pain. A faint, watery half-laugh bubbles out of his throat despite his distress. "Yes..." Shi-on stammers quietly. "I remember... You told me you are gay, Sunbae. You said you only like men..." Then, Shi-on’s eyes suddenly widen in realization. He leans forward slightly, staring at Jin-wook with genuine concern. "Wait... Sunbae... were you... were you rejected by Professor Kim Do-han?"
Jin-wook lets out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking his head slowly as a small, fond smile touches his lips despite the tension. "Professor Kim?" Jin-wook chuckles softly under his breath. "Well... I mean, the Professor is certainly an attractive man, Shi-on-ah. But no. It’s not him."
Jin-wook takes a deep, steadying breath. He steps an inch closer, his hands sliding up from Shi-on’s shoulders to lightly frame the sides of his neck, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from Shi-on’s cheek.
"The person I've been in love with..." Jin-wook says softly, his voice filled with an undeniable, heavy tenderness, "...is standing right in front of me."
Shi-on gawks at him. His breath hitches in his throat, his mouth parting in utter astonishment. He stares at the fourth-year resident—the man who has stood by his side through every harsh reprimand from senior staff, who brought him warm milk late at night during long shifts, who defended him against Il-kyu’s cruel jokes, and who jumped into a dark alley tonight without a second thought to protect him.
For months, Shi-on had naively processed all of Jin-wook’s quiet devotion, protective warmth, and gentle touches as simple, elder-brotherly affection. But looking into Jin-wook’s eyes now—seeing the deep, raw intensity and vulnerable hope staring back at him—the truth crystallizes with sudden, breathtaking clarity.
Shi-on’s heart, which had been aching with cold rejection moments ago, gives a sudden, electric thump. A entirely different kind of warmth floods his chest. A shy, tiny smile suddenly tugs at the corner of Shi-on’s mouth. The tension drains from his posture, replaced by a soft, delicate flutter in his stomach. Ducking his head down shyly, his eyelashes casting long shadows over his blushing cheeks, Shi-on glances up through his dark hair at Jin-wook.
"Sunbae..." Shi-on whispers nervously, his voice barely louder than a breath. "Could we... could we kiss?"
Astonishment flashes across Jin-wook’s face, followed instantly by a brilliant, full crimson blush that surges across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. "Shi-on-ah..." Jin-wook breathes out, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Without another second of hesitation, Jin-wook tenderly cradles Shi-on’s face in both of his warm hands. He leans in and gently presses his lips against Shi-on’s. The kiss begins with sweet, reverent care, a soft offering of comfort and safety. But as Shi-on lets out a quiet sigh against his mouth, leaning his body fully into Jin-wook’s solid frame, the kiss deepens—turning fierce, warm, and deeply grounding. Shi-on closes his eyes, his hands reaching up instinctively to grip the lapels of Jin-wook’s jacket.
As their lips move together in the quiet sanctuary of the shadowed alley, the hollow, painful ache in Shi-on’s chest entirely dissolves. The spark he had been desperately searching for in Yoon-seo’s polite smiles—the overwhelming feeling of being truly seen, cherished, and chosen as a man—isn't missing at all. It has been right here, wrapped in Jin-wook’s steady arms, all along.