Chapter Text
His friend Ik-jun makes sure the words are drawn out, so it’s nearly impossible to miss. Like big, italicized letters hung in the air of his and Jun-wan’s shared office. Long Winter Seon-saeng.
His mouth suddenly feels dry. Must be because he had just woken up from a nap.
He pulls himself up from the makeshift bed and drags his feet towards the fridge.
“You’ve worked with her before?”
The ssaeki throws him a look of shock and envy. It’s nothing to be envious about though. He’d rather work by himself than work with someone whose methods he doesn’t approve of.
“Yeah,” he answers, swiftly grabbing a bottle from inside the fridge. “She’s not my cup of tea.” It’s just water. There aren’t other beverages to choose from.
He takes a swig from the plastic bottle, and even then though, his mouth still feels parched. He takes note to stock the fridge with a few other kinds of drinks next time, just to be sure, but he’ll have to ask Jun-wan to pay for his share too, of course.
The conversation about hardworking residents goes on, and he takes a few more gulps to soothe the dryness in his throat.
A few heartbeats later Kwang-hyeon barges into their office asking about a certain Daddy-Long-Legs from the hospital he used to work at.
Of course he knows.
Jeong-won feigns ignorance though, flipping mindlessly through pages of his clear books laid out on the table. Appearing on TV would mean revealing his identity. He doesn't want that. His friends don’t even know. No one knows. He’s a bit wary because Kwang-hyeon is clever like Ik-jun; he can sense when something’s up.
Fortunately for him, a call interrupts them, and the topic is abruptly dropped.
When he’d thought he’s finally getting back his peace before he makes his rounds later, Dr. Jang’s name comes up once again. Kwang-hyeon stands up to prepare to leave.
“What’s going on?” Jeong-won asks, genuinely curious about the case. Or at least he convinces himself he is.
Kwang-hyeon’s brows are furrowed, and he looks strained. He explains the case - a man with a frostbitten leg infested with maggots.
He wonders how they handle such cases in the ER. He has an idea, of course; he’s had similar ones with children and their untended wounds from time to time. For some reason though, there’s a nagging feeling prodding him to go out and see this one.
When his ER doctor friend leaves, he decides it’s not a bad idea to follow. He still has free time anyway, and his curiosity wouldn’t let him stay at peace. All that talk about residents, responsibilities, and all that with Ik-jun earlier has left him nothing but curious.
This ssaeki just has a way with his words that make them seem believable. He should see for himself.
*
In his childhood he’d read a lot about different plants and flowers and all kinds of living things that grew from the earth. His mom picked up gardening after her fourth child, filled their shelves with picture books and encyclopedias about plants, even named her eventual fifth and youngest child Garden. In turn, Jeong-won grew love for all living things and the Being behind all them. An ultimate dream to serve and care and be responsible for what he loved most had formed.
He dreamed of being a priest.
“Ya, Ahn Jeong-won. What’s this?” Ik-jun asks, pointing to his monitor.
Ah. He must be talking about that letter.
Jun-wan pushes his chair towards him. “You’re really going to quit this time? To become a priest?”
He tries to dodge their questions with another. And another, to himself. Was he really sure this time?
Ik-jun’s phone rings, and his voice softens affectionately. Eo, Gyeoul-ah?
“Yes, I’m staying until the end of the year and resign then.” He tells them, a bit nonchalantly. Not now, he thinks. I’ll tell them everything later, and when I’m more confident. His attention is somewhere else.
Ik-jun excuses himself, but not before he talks them into taking a photo. Says it’s necessary to take as many as they can because Jeong-won's leaving them soon.
Whatever.
“Is he having an affair with Jang Gyeo-ul?” Jun-wan blurts, a lollipop sticking out of his mouth quite ridiculously. Right, he’s ridiculous. He knows his friend of 20 years wouldn’t do that—the guy can be absurd, but he has, overall, good senses. But maybe, he should just see for himself.
From afar, he finds his resident and his friend seated at a round table in one of the hospital’s more discreet gardens. She is smiling at whatever Ik-jun has said. He’s known the guy for so long and is aware of him being a charming, crowd-loving, and crowd-loved nutjob. Jeong-won wishes he were as funny too, though. She looks pretty and she has dimples. And God.
What was he thinking?
Must be indigestion.
He needs something to burn whatever that is inside his stomach down.
“Ya, Lee Ik-jun, give me a cigarette.”
Her smile immediately fades, and she leaves hurriedly. Were they doing something suspicious? He needs to talk some sense into this friend of his.
“You prick, you better come to your senses before I beat you up.” He sits down aggressively, not losing eye contact, just so he knows the guy hears him clearly.
He must make sure his friend and his resident are still on the right track. A gripping sense of responsibility tells him.
There’s a half-filled glass container of what seems to be yukjeon on the table. Were they sharing this before he came? They’re that close already? He grabs one and engulfs it in one go.
Ik-jun continues to stare at him with narrowed eyes. He’s silent, and it makes all these all the more suspicious. What is he thinking? What were they talking about? If they weren’t really doing anything wrong, he shouldn’t have to look at him like that!
“What do you think of Jang Gyeo-ul?”
Jeong-won catches his breath in surprise.
In an eternal set of memory, he slips into their living room in Yangpyeong where a twelve-year-old Jeong-won lay on the floor, staring at a block of text he had been reading and reading over again.
'Volcanic eruptions are destructive, yet, ironically, life around most known volcanic structures persist and continue to flourish. When extremely hot magma breaks free from underneath, it becomes lava. Lava flows uncontrollably and indefinitely, then leaves behind the lushest, most fertile of soils. In a matter of time, beauty and living things would start thriving in it again...'
Who would've known that such places of tragedies were still capable of growing something as lovely as new life?
Mouth parched, he gulps. Swallows the piece of yukjeon he still has in his mouth.
"What do you think of her?" Ik-jun repeats the question.
“I told you already, we don’t fit each other well.”
But he could try. He could always try. He’s realized there’s more that he could’ve gotten wrong about her, and some more that he could right.
Doctors have a number of responsibilities, aside from choosing the best words to tell so that they wouldn’t have to eat them later on.
Being skeptical and seeing for himself how his resident would handle cases, which surgeries his resident would pick to assist in, what his resident talks about in her free time with a fellow professor… these are just some others.
Responsibilities are what's gripping onto him and making him stay. Just until the end of the year.
Just.
By then, he’s set to leave. But until then, he must, at least, do a satisfactory job fulfilling them.