Archive of Our Own

Life is unfair, very unfair, Seongwu’s no stranger to that fact, actually he’s rather well-acquainted with it, but of course, that doesn’t mean he likes it. On the contrary really, he’s yet to master the art of accepting reality and “dealing with it” like a “responsible adult”, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.

And it’s not like it’s his fault—well, not entirely at least. How was Seongwu supposed to learn how to cope and resolve conflicts or whatever when he doesn’t even have the time to breathe before another curveball gets thrown his way?

He’s got enough problems, really, he does, and the list ranges from “oh well”, to “should probably see a therapist”, to “*nervous laughter*”. And as if that’s not sad enough, most of his troubles have stemmed from his short time as an intern, like, say, the soul-crushing expectations of his father (though this one traces far back to a time long before he even knew what soul-crushing meant), and how his favorite pair of jeans—the black ones, the ones that make his butt look good—have gone missing, and the root of all evil in his life, Hwang Minhyun, and how the hospital cafeteria is always low on strawberry milk and he has to opt for banana milk instead, and did he already mention Hwang Minhyun? If not, Hwang Minhyun .

It’s not that Seongwu hates him, because he doesn’t. They just don’t click, not like how he and Jisoo, or how he and Youngmin do.

There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with Minhyun either, he’s good at what he does, Seongwu can admit that. He's intelligent, hard-working, professional, and Seongwu supposes he understands why the nurses gossip about the other intern’s good looks and love life (or lack thereof). He’s just, well, perfect , too perfect, and it makes Seongwu’s blood boil.

It might sound stupid, but in Seongwu’s opinion, it’s a completely valid reason to want to rip Minhyun’s head off, logical even, because if Hwang Minhyun is at the top, then there’s no room for him—and Seongwu wants, needs , to be the best, and he won’t accept less.

So here he is, at the tender age of 26, dragging his shoes along pristine tiled floors, shrinking in on himself, petulant whines echoing down the empty corridor as he rants to another intern—a scene far more common than he’d ever admit, but I’m sure we’ve already established that Seongwu shoulders burdens that even Yahoo Answers can’t help him with.

“It’s not fair!” Seongwu huffs, nearly ripping apart the stress ball in his palm. “That surgery should’ve been mine . Jisung hyung promised to let me assist, but then out of nowhere saunters in the almighty Hwang Minhyun with his stupid perfect track record and “proficiency in gastroenterostomy”” Seongwu mocks, face contorting into pure annoyance, “which I know is complete fuckery cause he hasn’t even observed one before, let alone assist one, but lo and behold, the surgery is his!”

The girl walking beside him only laughs at first, patting Seongwu’s back lightly in an effort to console him. “Seongwu, you have to call him Dr.Yoon when we’re within the hospital walls, you can’t go around calling a superior familiarly like that when we’re working.”

Seongwu knows Jisoo’s right, as she usually is, but her words only make him whine louder, adding another bullet point to his list of valid arguments. “It’s even worse that it was Dr.Yoon who allowed it! I’ve known him for years! Long before he became the chief—we’re practically brothers! And yet, he chooses Hwang Minhyun over me .”

Jisoo—bless her heart, Seongwu wonders how she’s even dealt with him thus far—sighs, and links her arm with his. “You win some, you lose some. It’s life, Seongwu.”

“I’d rather win at everything, thank you very much.”

The girl snorts, shit eating grin stretched across her pretty features, and when Seongwu raises an eyebrow at her she just shrugs. “That’s impossible. You suck at just about every game in existence.”

Seongwu splutters, clutching at his chest in a flippant show of indignation; he should probably be at least a little offended, but his lack of athletic ability isn’t news to him, God is fair, after all. “Not all of them!”

“So tell me, what do you not entirely fail at?”

“Mind games.”

The quiet that follows is Seongwu’s favorite kind, a second of shocked silence before Jisoo’s laughter rings through the corridor, and Seongwu feels, rather than hears, the fond exasperation laced in her voice. “Mother of God, you are such a loser.”

Seongwu laughs too, light-hearted after releasing hours worth of rage from his system, and he slips his arm from Jisoo’s hold and instead throws it over her shoulders. “You love me.”

“Don’t be too sure of yourself.”

He’s moving to ruffle Jisoo’s hair in a playful jest when the steady click, click, click of heels accompanied by another set of footsteps registers with him, growing louder by the second, and Seongwu looks up just as two figures round the corner.

One, a pretty brunette who makes Seongwu laugh as she leaves her companion behind, and skips towards them, and the other, a tall, good looking male who makes Seongwu’s rising smile drop immediately.

Nayeon greets them with a wave, smile friendly. “Have you had dinner yet? We’re going out for barbeque once Youngmin and Jonghyun get off.”

“Not yet,” Jisoo huffs, sad pout pulling at her lips before she offers a swift wave at Minhyun, who’s made his way beside Nayeon. “Hi Minhyun.”

The raven haired male is still in his surgical scrubs, bangs falling into his eyes, lips quirking to one side in a small smile—perhaps if Seongwu wasn’t already brimming with annoyance again, he’d find the sight attractive, but he is, so it’s not attractive at all, it's rather infuriating, really. “Hey Jisoo,” and then the other’s attention is on him, offering a curt nod. “Ong.”

Seongwu wills his expression into something he hopes conveys a cool neutrality, and he nods back. “Hwang.”

Not to either of their knowledge, the girls beside them exchange looks, a silent conversation passing between the two.

“Uh, so yeah, you two are more than welcome to join us if you want,” Nayeon draws out slowly, eyes darting from Seongwu to Jisoo, to Minhyun and back. “Minhyun was just telling me about the gastroenterostomy he—”

Jisoo fakes a cough, nudging the other girl in what Seongwu guesses was supposed to be a subtle manner. “You know what, on second thought, Seongwu why don’t you go on without me?” She slips out from under his arm and grabs Nayeon by the hand, “Nayeon told me her heels were killing her, and I promised to let her borrow my spare flats. See you later!”

Before Seongwu can even call her out for the lie, Jisoo’s flying down the corridor with a confused Nayeon in tow, leaving him behind with none other than the source of his annoyance.

Perhaps he’s doing a bad job at concealing said annoyance, telling by the satisfied smirk on Minhyun’s lips.

Seongwu can’t help the sneer that mars his features, all thoughts of staying composed vanishing within a moment. The stress ball in his hand will tear into two at this rate. “What the fuck are you smirking at, Hwang?”

Minhyun’s laugh is condescending, as if Seongwu’s anger satisfies him—Seongwu supposes it probably does. “I’m not smirking, Ong. It’s just my face.” Minhyun tilts his head to the side, smirk widening. “I do wonder though, if that sneer is your natural expression.”

There are two voices barking orders in Seongwu’s mind: one is screaming at him to just sock the fucker in the face, just once, and the other is ordering him to remain calm, to relax and take it in stride as he always does.

God, what he’d do to just be able to get in one punch, just one—but alas, he cannot, as an aspiring surgeon, his hands are his most valuable asset, Seongwu couldn’t risk damaging them for momentary satisfaction.  

So he stays civil, as calm and collected as he can manage in the presence of the devil incarnate. Seongwu blinks, sickly sweet smile plastered onto his lips. “If you want me to be honest, it’s not at all my natural expression. I just can’t help myself when I’m within a mile radius of a low-life douchebag.”

Minhyun’s smirk falls the slightest and Seongwu takes it as a small victory, devil on his shoulder doing a little happy dance of triumph.

“Low-life douchebag?”

“Low-life douchebag.”

“And what have I done to deserve such a label?”

Seongwu narrows his eyes. “You know exactly what you did.”

The other glances to the side for a moment, lips pursed in thought, as if he actually didn’t know what he had done, then he scoffs. “Are you seriously upset about the surgery?”

At the tone of Minhyun’s voice, Seongwu can sense the fire burn hot within him, temper flaring at Minhyun’s nonchalance, and he shoves his clenched fists into his pockets—in an attempt to hide how much Minhyun’s words have affected him or to refrain from throwing a punch, Seongwu wonders when the distinction became so difficult to make.

Seongwu usually isn’t so fired up, but he had really wanted that surgery, he had done research and watched video upon video to study the techniques, only to have it slip between his fingers and into the hands of Hwang Minhyun. Not to mention he’s slept at most 13 hours total the past week, and sleep-deprived Seongwu isn’t as patient as less-sleep-deprived Seongwu.

Eyes flickering with rage, Seongwu sees little more than condescension and arrogance in the depths of Minhyun’s own.

Voice low, Seongwu spits out, “More enraged than upset.”

Minhyun shrugs, still completely unapologetic. “I thought you’d be a little more mature about it, didn’t realize you’d be so angered by such a trivial matter,” the older crosses his arms over his chest, smile arrogant and mocking. “I expected more from you.”

Minhyun’s comments have never cut deep, Seongwu knows they’re just mere half-hearted insults to draw a reaction from him, and Seongwu has never had a problem brushing off said comments and retaliating. Even now, Seongwu knows Minhyun’s sole intention is to piss him off, as Seongwu had expected, had been ready for, but today he’s caught off guard.

The other’s words sting more than they should; haunting in their familiarity, they cling to his skin and tear open old wounds that Seongwu had thought were long healed.

“I expected more from you.”

Minhyun’s stare is locked onto him, lips still set in that infuriating smirk, and Seongwu thinks, knows , he’s waiting, waiting for him to snap back, waiting for Seongwu to fall into the odd routine they’ve set for themselves over the past few months: pick a fight, throw a few insults, send glares, walk away, avoid each other for a few days, repeat.

It’s simple, the nature of their relationship that is, if Seongwu could go as far to call it a relationship.

Today isn’t different, shouldn’t be any different.

Minhyun’s words aren’t different, shouldn’t be any different.   

Seongwu wishes they weren't, but they are.

They’re too familiar, those words, they hit too close to home, too close for comfort, and they make Seongwu feel a little dizzy; body reacting out of habit, head hung, eyes finding the floor.

“I expected more from you.”

It’s just Minhyun, Seongwu tells himself, it’s only the annoying guy who runs not on oxygen but on Seongwu’s annoyance. It’s just Minhyun.

“I expected more from you.”

The words ring in Seongwu’s head, on loop like a broken record, until Minhyun’s voice fades, replaced by another, loud and abrasive and so familiar, and before Seongwu can shut it out, before he can brace himself, the words start to change.

“Your scores are getting worse.”

“When did you get so dumb?”

By instinct, Seongwu rushes to cover his ears with his hands but the voice doesn’t stop, only amplifying; he can’t shut it out for it’s all in his head.

“Don’t come out until you’ve memorized it all.”

“You have to rank first, do you understand me?”

It’s not Minhyun’s voice.

It’s Seongwu’s father’s.

Ong.

Hey.

Ong Seongwu.

Seongwu.

A rough hand lands on Seongwu’s shoulder, to which he can’t help but flinch, eyes wide as he stares at Minhyun.

“Seongwu?”

Seongwu shakes his head and sucks in a deep breath, all anger long replaced by a searing ache that makes him still, blood running cold and jaw tightening.

Minhyun eyes him with the gaze one would direct at a wild animal, curious despite the initial caution, brow arched in question.

Seongwu wants to shrug it off, willing the hostile remark to slip past his lips, one similar to the hundred he’s already thrown at the other intern, but he’s distracted, mind clouded over and it never does—not in the way it should, not in the way Seongwu had hoped it would.

“You really are something else, Hwang Minhyun.”

To Seongwu’s own ears, the statement comes off as bitter, hurt , but Seongwu supposes hurt is far better than whatever word can be used to describe the mirage of emotions he’s experiencing now, and he can only wonder how Minhyun had interpreted it—not that he should care, not that he cares at all.

Seongwu looks away first, the corners of his lips rising in a small smile that vanishes as soon as it had appeared, and he pushes past the other without another glance.

☤ ☤ ☤

When Seongwu steps out of the hospital an hour later, old demons locked away into the drawer where they belong, the others are already waiting for him,—Minhyun included, he notes with disdain—and he jogs over, apology on his lips. They agree to walk to the barbeque place a block over, a silent understanding falling over the group—there was no way they could walk any further on tired legs, running low on energy as is, and understandably so.

Youngmin had sworn meat and alcohol would work like magic. “There’s nothing a bottle of soju can’t fix!” Seongwu doubts it, but even a guy like Youngmin can have brief moments of wisdom.

It’s easy to get swept up in the moment, to forget about Minhyun and to join in on the story-telling and laugh at Jisoo’s stupid jokes and compete in a drinking contest with Nayeon, relaxed and high on the joy of being allowed a night of freedom, a night to exist as a 26 year old and nothing more.

It’s only late into the night, when the six of them are returning to the hospital, stomachs full and hearts content, that Seongwu descends from his high, pushed down to reality, burdens finding their way back to nestle on his tired shoulders.

Scoring an intern position at the largest hospital in Seoul wasn’t a small feat, but with great achievements come—wait for it,—higher expectations, and as the bar gets set higher and higher, they can only try their best, standing on their tip-toes and reaching for the skies until the exhaustion and pressure seeping into their bones amounts to something —whatever that something may be.

It takes courage to continue straining for a goal that seems a million light years away. It’s a test of character, of willpower, of endurance.

Seongwu knows there are only two ends to such a cruel test; you either rise above it or you don’t.

He’s watched dozens of others break, falling apart before his eyes. There was nothing he could’ve done, nothing he thought he could do, not when they were so sure, so certain that becoming a doctor wasn’t the path they wanted, the path they could endure.

Seongwu decides though, it’s not unlike watching a figure skater miss the landing of what would’ve been a beautiful triple axel; it stings, ice cold crystals pricking his skin as if it was he who took the fall.

more so when it’s a friend.

Yoon Jeonghan, Seongwu’s close friend and roommate in medical school, was just brilliant. He was a good guy, a top student, and he was passionate, determined. Seongwu imagined he and Jeonghan would succeed together, until the end.

It’s a pity the heavens had other things in mind.

It was a Tuesday, four, maybe three in the afternoon, and Seongwu had come home from lecture to see his dorm room in flames—not literally, but it might as well have been.

Jeonghan’s things were stuffed into boxes, a large suitcase Seongwu’s never seen before thrown atop his bed, papers and books strewn about like autumn leaves swept up by the wind, and Jeonghan himself sat cross-legged in the eye of the hurricane.

Seongwu was a second away from uttering a curse when Jeonghan twists to face him, tears streaming down his cheeks and a stack of pictures in his lap.

Seongwu had acted on impulse, throwing his bag to the side and closing the door with his foot before rushing over to envelop the other in a hug. He hadn’t known what to say, so he stayed silent, hoping his presence was enough.

Their friendship wasn’t built from heart-to-hearts at the wee hours of the night, not even close, Seongwu was never one to share his deep-rooted sentiments and neither was Jeonghan, so the whole “offering a shoulder to cry on” thing was completely uncharted territory for the both of them, but Seongwu was trying his best, and Jeonghan appreciated it, Seongwu knew.

They sat like that for who knows how long, Seongwu’s long limbs draped messily over Jeonghan’s frame until the other shrugged him off, shooting him a quick thank you. The tears were gone, but the bitter smile remained, looking so out of place on the other’s features.

He never wanted to be a doctor, Jeonghan had confessed after a moment, sifting through the pictures for Seongwu to see, barely above a whisper, as if he was scared to say it out loud, to speak it into existence.

They were childhood photos, from when he was a kid barely four years of age to a young man in high school, and as Seongwu looked over each one, he noticed there was a common theme: he was always accompanied by a guitar or a piano or a drum set.

He wanted to be a musician.

Seongwu had nodded, understanding despite not understanding at all, and he helped the other pack.

Jeonghan treated him to dinner Wednesday and he was gone by Friday.

They never did keep in touch but sometimes in the quiet of the on-call room, when Seongwu is the last one to succumb to sleep, awake despite the exhaustion inked into his skin, lazing on the top bunk while the others snore away on their respective bunks, Seongwu finds himself thinking about his old friend.

He lies there, eyes trained on the ceiling, and wonders if any of them, the six of them, will fall apart like Jeonghan had—in silence, slowly, bit by bit, then all at once.

Other times, Seongwu wonders if he was supposed to be here all along, if they were all destined to be here, together.

It doesn’t really matter, Seongwu muses now, what they were destined to be, to do, where they were destined to be. What matters, above all, is what they want to be, what they  want to do, where they want to be.

Simple as that.

Gaze flickering from his friends to the direction of the hospital, heart light, Seongwu smiles to himself.

Seongwu stares at the pavement as he walks, he’s fallen behind the others but he makes no move to catch up, nor does he change pace when Minhyun falls into step beside him soon after, cold hands deep in his pockets as he basks in the quiet of the night.

With a revelation comes change.

☤ ☤ ☤

It’s been a rough day, one of many, if Minhyun were to be honest.

It’s late, or early, he supposes, two, maybe three in the morning, and the hospital is relatively quiet at this hour, patients fast asleep, staff already well into the night shift. The corridor he’s wandered to is empty and Minhyun sinks to the floor before he can convince himself otherwise, legs giving out under him, back pressed to the cold wall.

Alone, he finally has a moment to himself—though he knows he shouldn’t rejoice, can’t rejoice.

He doesn’t deserve to have peace of mind, not now.

The wave of emotion washes over his entire being before he can even think to take a breath and Minhyun knows it’s no use to resist, allowing the hot tears to spill down his cheeks as they please.

How could he have been so stupid?

☤ ☤ ☤

After having completed his daily rounds without a hitch, Minhyun had half the mind to talk with the receptionist, a sweet woman who reminded him of his grandmother, when a nurse comes flying around the corner, calling for him in panic. In a rush, Minhyun scraps the idea and follows the nurse through the corridors, dread rising in his throat when he realizes she’s leading him to one of his patient’s room. Only when they reach the small room does Minhyun’s heart really sink.

The patient’s room is in a state of chaos, machines going off and indicators flashing red, nurses flying in and out, Jisung is halfway on the bed administering CPR on the unresponsive woman while a nurse shouts out the patient’s vitals.

Minhyun freezes before the doorway, mouth gone slack as he takes in the scene. A lead ball of dread weighs in the pit of his stomach, grounding him in place, and he feels like he's fallen into a swamp of quick sand. “What the hell is happening?”

No one answers him, no one seems to even hear him, not that Minhyun could blame them, considering the more dire situation at hand.

“Damn it, she’s coding.” Jisung hisses, calling to a nurse, “Prep the OR immediately.”

A nurse rushes by, knocking him back a step, and Minhyun only grows more frazzled, “Wait—”

“If it’s not obvious enough, she’s having a heart attack and needs to go into surgery so she doesn't die ,” Jisung draws out, tone sharp, “so I suggest you get out of the way, Hwang. I’ll deal with you later.”

“She’s my patient.”

“Not anymore.” Jisung’s cold tone is more than enough to drive a shiver down the younger’s spine, a stark contrast from his usual mother-like scolding. Minhyun nods, eyes downcast and he steps aside.

Jisung huffs as he passes him, and the older doctor moves down the corridor with new vigor, nurses following after him, and he shouts over his shoulder. “Someone call Seongwu for me.”

☤ ☤ ☤

Jisung drags Minhyun aside by the collar of his white coat as soon as he exits the OR, eyes narrowing dangerously. “What the hell were you thinking, Hwang Minhyun?”

Minhyun doesn’t even know what to tell him; he doesn’t even know what went wrong, where he went wrong.

“I—She, she was diagnosed with hypochondriasis, it said so on her charts!” Minhyun cries out in desperation, hands clutching Jisung’s arm, eyes wide and frantic. “I—I thought she was—I. She comes to the hospital every other week and nothing is ever wrong! Her scans didn’t show anything out of sorts!”

Jisung takes a deep breath, prying Minhyun’s hands off him with a force Minhyun didn't know the kind and gentle doctor was capable of. “A patient’s mental state should not affect your treatment. It’s your job to listen to them.”

Minhyun only grows more hysterical, heart threatening to jump out of his chest, mouth working before his head can catch up. “ I know! ” he shouts, immediately apologizing when the older man startles, “I’m sorry, I just,” he pleads, “It was just this one time, please believe me.”

Jisung sighs, running a hand over his face. “Don’t you understand? Yes, you made one mistake,” he pauses, staring Minhyun dead in the eye, “but we are doctors , and we can’t afford to make mistakes. A slip of a hand, a symptom gone unnoted, a second of negligence, one bad move could cost a life.”

The older continues, “You made a mistake today. Learn from it and make sure it never happens again.”

Jisung is an amazing mentor, an even better doctor, wise with years of experience that Minhyun lacks and Minhyun knows Jisung is only trying to teach him, not scold him, but he can’t help but flinch at the older’s words, cowering in on himself.

The older male notices too, he supposes, because he sighs, still firm but a fraction more gentle when he pats Minhyun’s shoulder. “Take the rest of the day off.”

Minhyun shakes his head, determined to see his patient and apologize to both her and her family; apologize for his careless actions and attitude. “Hyung—”

“I said go home , Minhyun. I’m not asking.”

☤ ☤ ☤

He’s a doctor , trained to save lives and yet, he had forgone the basics because he was skeptical of the patient’s complaints.

From what he had been told, the surgery went well and she’d recover, but that doesn’t change the fact that Minhyun almost killed his patient.

It was pure luck that a nurse had been in the room when things began to go south.

What if he hadn't been so lucky?

Thoughts too loud, Minhyun doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching, not until it’s too late to run away first.

“Take it.”

Minhyun stills and by instinct, he lowers his hands just as a flash of baby pink flashes by his eyes, weight dropped onto his thighs. Minhyun doesn’t need to lift his gaze to know who’s interrupted his self-pity party.

All long legs and distinct voice, it could only be Ong Seongwu.

“Go away.” Minhyun sighs, exhausted, not in the mood to humor the other. “I don’t need you to rub salt into the wound.”

“Relax.” Seongwu snorts, “I just thought you’d want some company.”

He’s taken aback to say the least, as to why Seongwu had decided to go out of his way to check up on him. It’s not like they’re friends, nor has their dynamic ever been one worthy of admiration; built upon frequent spats and implied rivalry.

To add, it’s been awhile since he’s last spoken to Seongwu, around a week—not that he’s keeping track. Their last private conversation had gone noticeably sour, more so than usual, with Seongwu storming off after a minute or two. Minhyun is still not entirely sure what he had said to pull that kind of reaction out of Seongwu, but the memory of the younger’s stiff posture and pained smile is more than enough to leave a bitter taste in Minhyun’s mouth.  

In short, Minhyun doesn’t know what to make of Seongwu’s sudden appearance.

Seongwu grunts. “Didn’t peg you as emotional.”

If Minhyun wasn’t too drained to even move, perhaps he’d have scoffed at Seongwu’s words, maybe he’d have wiped the hot tears away, put on a front and pretended he wasn’t just sobbing in the middle of the hospital corridor. Maybe he’d have hissed at Seongwu to mind his own business, but he’s exhausted and Minhyun’s always been more lax when he’s tired—more vulnerable, more trusting.

Minhyun sniffles and he blinks once, twice, three times, stray tears spilling down his cheeks. He doesn’t bother to wipe them away, it’s all or nothing. Minhyun breathes through a weak attempt at a shrug, “I didn’t peg you as someone capable of compassion,”

It’s only then that Minhyun pays mind to the weight in his hands, finger swiping at the water droplets clinging to the surface of the pink carton. Something blooms in his chest when he recognizes what it is—something that makes him forget, even if only for a brief moment, where he is, who he is, what he’s done.

Strawberry milk.

He cracks a small smile, “but here we are.”

Seongwu doesn’t say anything for a moment and out of curiosity, Minhyun glances up at him, swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks be damned. Seongwu looks pensive, lip caught in between his teeth, and it’s so unlike the ever-confident Ong Seongwu to look so hesitant and even in Minhyun’s state of sorrow, it makes him snicker.

“What?” Minhyun taunts, “You scared I’ll burst into tears again?”

“Maybe.” Seongwu rolls his eyes, huffing as he sinks to the ground, knee just shy of touching Minhyun’s, and the brunette looks completely exasperated but the scoff he lets out isn’t ill-meaning, rather, he almost seems concerned.

Seongwu starts, eyes pooled with concern. “Are you—”

At those few words, Minhyun grows stiff, ready to stand and walk away, annoyance flaring up within him. He can’t help it, he knows that Seongwu is just trying to help, but Minhyun doesn’t need pity, and he sure as hell doesn’t need it from Seongwu.

The whole pity thing is exactly why Minhyun rarely, if ever, cries outside of the privacy of his own home. Minhyun doesn’t need someone to give him sad eyes and consoling pats on the back, he doesn’t need someone to ask him if he wants to talk, or to ask him what happened. Above all, Minhyun definitely does not need someone to ask him if he’s okay, because it’s pretty damn clear he’s not okay.

With how things are going though, he’s more than certain Seongwu will do just that.

Seongwu shakes his head. “Will you be okay?”

Minhyun stills.

Of all things to say, Seongwu chooses that, and he asks it so softly, sincerely, as if he really is scared of making Minhyun cry again, and Minhyun feels it again; that explosion of something in his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t have been so certain, for Ong Seongwu proves time and time again to be a man of surprises.

“Yeah.” Minhyun whispers, eyes downcast, lingering on the pink carton in his hands. “I’ll be okay.”

The younger nods in what seems to be understanding, maybe even empathy, and to Minhyun’s confusion, Seongwu avoids his eyes. Seongwu breathes out a huff, and Minhyun’s eyes might be malfunctioning after all that crying, but it almost looks like Seongwu’s cheeks are a bit rosy, “You have no idea how much it pains me to say this but, you’re a good doctor, you know? A really good doctor. A slip-up won’t change that.”

It’s almost scary, how Seongwu has such a way with words, he's charming and outgoing, a social butterfly if you will. It’s old news, but sometimes it comes as a shock to Minhyun; especially since Seongwu had only ever been immature and spiteful towards him.

Jonghyun had sworn to him that Seongwu was good guy under all the bravado, kind and attentive, that he only behaved in such a way in Minhyun’s presence. Minhyun could only snort at Jonghyun's naivety, but now that he’s experiencing Seongwu’s care first-hand, Minhyun is beginning to wonder if maybe it really was just him.

Minhyun’s not sure if he deserves comfort right now, but he takes it, holding Seongwu’s words near and dear to his heart, perhaps in hopes that he’s right. Minhyun nods and mumbles a quick “Thank you.” and he expects Seongwu to leave then, now that he’s played nice guy for long enough, to go on with his night, but he doesn’t. Seongwu merely hugs his knees to his chest and stays beside him, silent as he shifts his focus on the sandwich he had brought along.

It’s only after a good five minutes of silence,—comfortable or suffocating, he’s not quite sure— after Seongwu’s finished his sandwich, that he pays attention to Minhyun again. He only stares at first, eyes searching as his gaze lingers on Minhyun’s face, to which Minhyun brings up a hand to wipe at his cheeks—a defensive move or an action born from embarrassment, again, Minhyun’s not quite sure.  

A nervous laugh from Minhyun seems to break Seongwu from his reverie, sharp eyes easing back to a comfortable neutrality, lips quirking into the mischievous half smile Minhyun’s used to seeing on him.

Seongwu snickers, stretching his arms above his head with a long groan. “This is kind of odd, isn’t it?”

Minhyun nods, willing his expression to remain serious despite the amusement lacing his voice. “Very.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

They share a laugh, and for the first time since Minhyun’s known Seongwu, he doesn’t feel annoyance flare up within him at the sight of him.

On the contrary, really.

He’s content and at ease with the other lazing by his side. Seongwu’s eyes turn in to pretty crescent moons as he laughs, and the sudden awareness that Minhyun’s half forgotten about his mistake is far more concerning than it should be, but the thought that he might actually enjoy Seongwu’s company is what really throws Minhyun for a loop, more so when he’s plagued by guilt and has wallowed in self-pity for days.

Minhyun had rather obviously struck a nerve when they last spoke, what with Seongwu becoming stoic almost immediately, and for the most part avoiding him like the plague. The younger had never reacted to Minhyun’s words in that way before, and it made Minhyun wonder what he had said to have drawn that reaction out of Seongwu, where he had gone wrong, where he had crossed the line.   

Although he still doesn’t have an explanation or a clue as to why, Minhyun knows he’s in the wrong—wrong without knowing how, but wrong nonetheless—,and that there was only one thing he could do to make it right: apologize.

Saying sorry is easier said than done though, considering apologies weren’t exactly a thing between the two of them. Their arguments were never significant enough to warrant an apology nor had they ever truly upset each other, only pushing enough buttons to annoy the other.

Odd or not, it had to be done.

In a burst of courage, Minhyun swallows half of his pride and fakes a cough, heat reaching his ears when Seongwu looks over in curiosity. “Listen. I’m, uh, about what I said a few days ago," Minhyun stares at the milk carton in his lap, adamant on avoiding Seongwu’s eyes as he mumbles a quiet but sincere apology. “I didn’t mean to upset you—at least not to the extent that I did. I know you really wanted that surgery, and I guess I just wanted to piss you off, and I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

Seongwu doesn’t utter a word, and Minhyun doesn’t dare look over at him, too scared of the anger or annoyance he might see playing on Seongwu’s features, and he waits with bated breath for a second before he blurts out in the heat of the moment a quick, “Uh, and thank you, Seongwu…” for staying with me “for uh the strawberry milk.”

It takes a whole minute—he counted—of mind-numbing suffering on Minhyun’s part for Seongwu to offer a reaction, but it’s one that soothes Minhyun’s nerves and stays with him long after Seongwu bids him good night and leaves for the OR.

☤ ☤ ☤

With change comes an end, and the ending of a chapter marks the beginning of a new one.

Theirs will start with forgiveness.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.”

Seongwu eyes the milk carton clutched in Minhyun’s hand and he laughs.

“And you better be grateful, you bastard, that was the last carton.”

From then on, though they still aren’t the best of friends, the animosity fades and there’s no real bite in Seongwu’s taunts; the spiteful glare in his eyes is overtaken by a more teasing kind of mischief, one that Minhyun thinks suits his features far more.

Minhyun has come to the conclusion that change comes in many forms; sometimes in the blink of an eye and sometimes over lifetimes, sometimes in one big crashing wave that floods the streets and takes the entire city under and sometimes like the snowfall of a slow winter day, one tiny snowflake at a time, sometimes through conflict and sometimes through understanding.

It’s the little things that make a difference; a single crack can sink a ship and a tiny change can tilt the world itself on its axis. It’s the small details that Minhyun only remembers at odd times, when he’s in the shower under the storm of scalding water or in the hazy moments before he surrenders to the strong hold of sleep, that stick with him and engrave themselves onto the side of his heart.

The world stops for no one, seconds tick by and days crawl on, a flash of lightning, the roll of thunder, here one moment and gone the next; that’s what Minhyun thinks life is, a game of now you see me, now you don’t.

It’s easy to miss the little things, and the saying goes ignorance is bliss and maybe that rings true for some, but in Minhyun’s case, he can’t help but wonder how he had been so stupid as to ignore every good thing about Seongwu.

Seongwu is a bit of an enigma, Minhyun comes to realize as the days pass; he’s hard to read, even more difficult to understand, but he’s a good guy. Seongwu cares, he cares a lot, is what Minhyun muses now as the younger presses a sandwich and a bottle of tea into his tired hands, a soft “I know you haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast.” falling from his lips before he dashes off, four other sandwiches held to his chest.

Minhyun thinks he might just cry.

“Is the sandwich really that good…” is what Nayeon mumbles to her own sandwich when she comes across Minhyun, whose eyes have pooled with tears.

“Get out of my face, I’m sensitive.”

It’s through small, silent gestures,—ones that don’t seem important, what with how Seongwu goes about it in such a casual almost nonchalant manner, but really mean so much more—that Seongwu shows how much he cares; going out of his way to make sure they don’t skip meals, keeping a spare set of scrubs that are a size too big because he knows Youngmin has the memory of a walnut, Minhyun has even seen a few tampons in Seongwu’s locker and Minhyun doesn’t mean to assume, but he’s more than certain they aren’t of any use to the younger.

Despite being one of the younger ones of the bunch, Seongwu looks after all of them, Minhyun included, even back then when Minhyun was little more than a thorn in his side.

“I told you Seongwu was a good guy.”

“Shut up Jonghyun, I don’t like him.”

“I never said you did, but okay…”

“I only appreciate how kind and caring and sweet he is.”

Jonghyun now stares at him in mild concern, brows drawn together and lips downturned. “Okay…“

Minhyun has come to notice that Seongwu, although always kind and considerate, forgets to take care of his own well-being. The younger goes to sleep the latest out of them all; despite the fact that Seongwu is always careful to not wake the others when he slips into the on-call room at the wee hours of the morning, Minhyun has awoken to the sound of Seongwu’s slow, light steps more times than he can count. Seongwu sometimes forgets to eat despite more or less forcing food down Jisoo’s throat when she skips a meal.

While sweet, it’s more concerning, and it leaves a bitter taste in Minhyun’s mouth, and at some point, Minhyun had taken it upon himself to look after Seongwu, to care for him when he’s too busy caring for others.

It’s odd, how things play out; how Minhyun begins to grab for an extra carton of strawberry milk, and how he only falls asleep once Seongwu slips into the top bunk opposite his, and how he becomes more accustomed to pressing 5509 rather than 5513 on the vending machine around the corner; it’s odd, how he begins to mirror Seongwu’s actions, and it’s especially odd how he begins to anticipate running into the younger instead of going out of his way to avoid him.

“Imagine being hot enough to have Hwang Minhyun wrapped around your pretty little finger.”

“Say a word about this to Seongwu, and I will end you, Im Youngmin.”

“Try me, big guy.”   

There’s more that Minhyun has noticed though. For one, though sometimes Seongwu is hard to read, other times, you don’t even have to be near him to get a grasp on the younger’s mood; emotions radiate from Seongwu in waves; anger, exhaustion, happiness.

The older had been looking through a patient’s files when Seongwu had appeared out of thin air, smile wide as he called after him, “Minhyun!” and before Minhyun could process it, Seongwu had launched himself at him like a mini rocket, nearly knocking Minhyun off his feet in the process, arms thrown over his shoulders, and face nuzzled in the older’s neck, on his tip-toes despite the tiny height difference between them.

“Hello to you too.” Minhyun had breathed out with a huff once he had recovered from the initial shock, raising a brow as he rested his hands on the small of Seongwu’s back. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

The younger had pulled back to meet Minhyun’s stare, clear brown eyes pooled with tears of joy, and he seemed to buzz with excitement in the older’s embrace, grip tight around Minhyun's wrists. “There’s a donor! Yeowon has a donor!”

“Seongwu that’s great." Minhyun mumbled, shock painting his face, and smile rising on his lips. "That’s really fucking great, I’m happy for you.”

Seongwu’s wide grin had smoothed into a small smile, a fraction of the size, but it had found its way to the depths of Minhyun’s mind, locked away in a safe to be kept forever.

It’s the little things that have Minhyun staying up a bit later at night.

☤ ☤ ☤

On some nights, when the others are on duty or have returned home to spend a night in the comfort of their own homes, Minhyun and Seongwu stare at the ceiling or the red flash of the smoke detector in the corner of the room, lost in their own thoughts as they lay on their respective beds in silence, Seongwu on one top bunk and Minhyun on the opposite.

Other nights, they talk, about this and that, anything and everything, and tonight is playing out to be one of those nights, Seongwu figures as Minhyun sits cross-legged on his mattress, bird nest of hair brushing along the ceiling and peers over at him,

“Ong.”

The brunette grunts, eyes flickering over to the older. “Hwang.”

“Are you awake?”

Seongwu snorts, rolling his eyes at the stupid question. “You ask that as if I didn’t just respond to you five seconds ago.”

The older shrugs, comforter shifting as he moves around. “Can I ask you something?”

“You already are, are you not?”

“Oh, give me a break.”

“Do whatever you want.”

Seongwu whistles as he lets Minhyun gather his thoughts, a tune that Seongwu’s come up with himself, a loop of crescendos and near silence, and the soft sound echoes through the quiet room, embracing the silence in the warmth of familiarity before he lets it fade into nothing, drawn by Minhyun’s soft sigh.

“That one day, the day we went out for barbeque with the others, in the corridor,” Minhyun starts, voice soft, cautious like he’s walking on eggshells, to an extent, Seongwu supposes he understands why Minhyun would hesitate. “Why did you get so upset?”

Seongwu’s throat tightens, dread clutching at his heart and refusing to let go; in a way, he had been awaiting the question for awhile, it had been a pure stroke of luck that Minhyun hadn’t asked him prior to today, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the conversation, nor had he thought about what he could say to such an inquiry.

The brunette supposes he could lie or he could offer a vague answer and direct the conversation elsewhere, but Seongwu decides Minhyun deserves the truth; it’s of no importance how ugly it is, the truth is the truth, and it’ll always be better than a lie.

Seongwu fakes a cough, taking a deep breath and releasing it with a long huff, not quite sure where or how to start, and it takes the brunette a moment to gather his thoughts. “It wasn’t you, really, it wasn’t, I’d be a fool to take a single thing you say to heart,” Seongwu takes a moment to laugh when Minhyun flips him the bird before picking up where he left off, “but I guess you just hit a nerve that day, a real big nerve.”

The older remains quiet, and Minhyun’s silence says more than words ever could, at least to Seongwu; he’s being given a choice, Seongwu realizes. Minhyun is allowing him to do as he pleases, if he wishes to say more, then by all means, do so, and if he wishes to end it there, then so be it—and right then and there, it all kind of clicks, and Seongwu finds it in himself to go on.

“I don’t know much about my mom, she passed away when I was young, dad said her immune system was weak, said she caught pneumonia and never recovered. I don’t remember a lot about her, but I think it would’ve been easier, for me, for my dad, if she were still alive.”

“You said something that I hadn’t heard in a really long time, something I didn’t think I would hear again after moving out,” Seongwu breathes out a laugh, though it’s more of a tired laugh than one of humor. “You said “I expected more from you” and I know , okay. I know it sounds stupid that I would get upset over that but it means more to me.”

Seongwu takes a moment to breathe, mouth dry and throat tight; the brunette has never told a soul about the things that had gone on at home, and now that he’s pouring his heart out to Minhyun, he’s not sure if he’s relieved or scared, but he braves on. “He, my dad, he used to say that to me all the time, among other things. You’d think it would be nothing big after hearing it for so long, but it kind of stings more because I’ve heard it my entire life. He said a lot of things that you shouldn't say to a kid, and no one was ever around to tell me otherwise, to tell me that dad just wanted me to become a good person, to tell me that he expected a lot because he knew I could do it.”

“You know, I was the perfect son, energetic, intelligent. I had manners, friends, the teachers loved me, but I was never enough,” Seongwu mumbles, eyes trained on the ceiling above him, willing the tears pooling in his eyes to go away. “My dad... He wasn’t satisfied with my grades or my rank. He was never satisfied with me , and I don’t think he ever will be.”

“I’m proud of you. Take a break. You did well, my precious son.” Eyes falling closed, Seongwu talks more to himself than to Minhyun, mind taking him back to a time when things were so much harder than they are now; a time when he was completely alone in the world. “I haven’t heard those words yet.”

Seongwu falls silent, out of things to say, and Minhyun seems to understand, but the older mirrors Seongwu’s silence for a minute. Seongwu can’t be certain, but he thinks he can feel Minhyun’s stare on him.

“I’m sorry.”

“You couldn't have known,” Seongwu murmurs and he rises to sit, voice low. “And you’ve already apologized, and I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know,” Minhyun huffs, eyes focused on the younger. “I’m just really fucking sorry.”

“Yeah.”

After a moment, Minhyun straightens, pensive as he tugs the comforter closer around him. “You know, in a way, I think I understand.”

The younger hums, smile just barely there, but it's enough to encourage Minhyun to go on.

Knees held to his chest, eyes downcast, Minhyun looks small, vulnerable, and the sight tugs at Seongwu’s heart. “Until I was thirteen I lived with my grandmother.”

“My father had a family. A wife and two kids before he had me.” Seongwu double takes, gaze locked on Minhyun’s face as the older speaks, and call it a sixth sense, but Seongwu’s heart drops before the older can even get another word out, afraid he won’t like what’s to come, and Seongwu’s fears ring true when Minhyun swims on, broad shoulders hunched over as he cowers. “I was the illegitimate son. My grandma said I was a gift, but she was too kind for her own good. I was, I am a sex escapade with a secret lover gone wrong, and my father didn’t want me.”

Minhyun chuckles, and the melody should be cheery, but it only conveys pain. “So he cast me aside and let my grandmother pick up the pieces.”

“I moved in with them, my father and his family, when I was 14. His wife and kids were kind, as kind as they could be to a stranger, but they never loved me. I don’t blame them. I can’t blame them. My father didn’t bother to even look at me. I think over the 4 years I lived under that roof, he spoke under a dozen words to me.”  

Minhyun is silent for a moment, and Seongwu doesn’t know what makes him do it—maybe the dull ache to the left of his chest, maybe the voice within his mind screaming at him to just do it, and maybe he doesn’t have to know why, he just knows he wants to—, but without a word, Seongwu hops down from his own bunk and climbs the few steps to Minhyun’s. He sinks down beside the older, knee just shy of touching Minhyun’s.

The older doesn’t protest, so Seongwu stays. The situation gives Seongwu an odd sense of déjà vu, and it reminds him of all that time ago when he had approached Minhyun with a carton of strawberry milk, and the hint of a smile on Minhyun’s lips tells him he isn’t the only one.

Minhyun shrugs, hugging himself as he goes on. “I guess all I ever wanted, all I want, is to prove to him that he’s wrong, that I’m more than a bastard son.”

Seongwu nods, and he wants to scream, to shout, to get it through Minhyun’s head that he doesn’t need some low-life to validate him, but Seongwu knows it’d be more than hypocritical and almost ironic if he, of all people, were to preach the sentiment, so he stays quiet.

There's not even a trace of the haughty, too-good-for-you Hwang Minhyun he used to know, only a skeleton of what he showed to the world, and in the dim room, Seongwu can let his eyes run along the smooth slopes and hard lines of Minhyun's face. Seongwu kind of feels odd, a rush of something spreading from his heart to the tips of his fingers as the older just stays there, quiet and lax as he lets Seongwu look through him. Seongwu doesn't really know how to react, not sure what to say knowing Minhyun is allowing him to see him for what he is, for who he is.

He looks away.

It's a moment of curiosity, of understanding, and of acceptance.  

“Your grandmother must have been kind.” Seongwu glances over again at the older, whose eyes are half-closed now, exhaustion wearing down on his sharp features.

Minhyun snorts, but he smiles, small and soft, and Seongwu imagines Minhyun has a fond memory of her flashing before his eyes. “She was.”

“She raised you well.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

And he does think so. Minhyun is a good guy, Seongwu is more than certain; despite how the heavens had dealt the cards, Minhyun had grown up to become a lovely man in a world chock-full of real, bottom of the barrel, low-life bastards.

Seongwu continues with a huff, voice taking on a rough undertone, eyes growing sharp around the edges. “Your father is a piece of shit.”

The older snorts, mouth twisting into a grin despite himself. “Likewise.”

They bask in the silence for a stretch of time. It’s become something they do a lot, a staple in their friendship-of-sorts, lost in their own respective thoughts; one remembering a time when it was all a bit easier, and one pondering how life could have been so cruel to such a kind soul—it’s a bit hard to decipher whose thoughts are whose, for it could go both ways.

It’s long past midnight by now, nearing dawn, and the walls of Seongwu’s fortress descend one by one, until all that’s left is Ong Seongwu, eyes closed, breaths long and heavy.

“It might not mean much coming from me, but I think you’re enough.” The older’s words fade in and out of Seongwu’s mind, voice seeming far despite how close they are, and they make Seongwu grin despite how worn out he is. “More than enough really. It’s kind of annoying.”

“Right back atcha.” What Seongwu really means though, is thank you , but he’s sure Minhyun understands.

Like the way the snow falls; snowflake by snowflake, until all is white, Seongwu and Minhyun fall into the hands of sleep; breath by breath, until all is black.

The sun rises, and the world spins on its axis and life moves on, and time doesn’t stop, but a chapter ends, and a new one begins; it’s a little change, but it moves the tides, and carves the mountains, and draws a red string between two hearts.  

EPILOGUE

With a beginning comes a story.

Here’s how it goes:

Ong Seongwu has only ever wanted a few things.

To live for himself.

Seongwu knows exactly what he wants to be, what he wants to do, where he wants to be, and despite all the road blocks and detours he may need to take, Seongwu’s got a little faith in himself.

Whatever it takes, he’ll make it, one step at a time.

To belong.

Somewhere along the way, as weeks became months and months became years, Seongwu had found himself alone.

Until he wasn’t.

New places had brought along new people, and new people became friends, and with time, friends had become family.

That’s what they are to him: family.

Jisoo, Youngmin, Jonghyun, Jisung, and Nayeon are family. Minhyun too, with his big head and stupid sweater vests—and maybe he’s a bit more than that.

To love, and be loved.

It’s odd, how the pieces had all fallen into place the way they did.

The stars aligned as they wished, and fate sketched its lines to and fro, and by the heaven’s will or not, Ong Seongwu found solace in Hwang Minhyun.

There are ups and downs, one step forward and two steps back, endings and beginnings, and things change—sometimes for better, sometimes for worse—,and they're not sure which it is for them yet, nor are they sure if this, whatever this is, will work out, but they're trying their best.

All they can do is stand on their tip-toes and reach for the skies, and hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll make it together.

(It’s nice though, knowing you aren’t alone, and for now, that’s enough.)