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Seung-tak had never been in love.
Honestly, he’d never given it much thought. His life up until this point had flown by, caught up with studies and exams, never having so much as a moment to himself. It was all he’d known. Being a doctor was never of interest to him, but he’d felt he had no choice-- it ran in the family, or so he was told.
He couldn’t even stand the sight of blood… how could he possibly be a doctor with such a flaw?
Seung-tak shook his head, gently slapping his cheeks. He was exhausted, more so than usual. Professor Cha had been possessing him so much as of late that he knew he wasn’t getting nearly as much sleep as he should be. But Seung-tak could never say no to him, or a patient in need… and there was little he could do for the ailing without the other doctor’s hands.
It had already been two months since Professor Cha had fallen into a coma, and become another ghost within the hospital’s walls. Seung-tak quite liked how much he’d changed since his own mortality now hung in the balance. He’d learnt so much about Professor Cha, to the point where it was almost disappointing, knowing what would happen when he finally returned to his body, and woke up…
He’d forget all about their time together. His memories of Seung-tak would be of only their first day meeting, when it was clear Professor Cha saw him as nothing more than an annoyance. He couldn’t stand the thought of being seen that way. His heart was already broken.
That was the issue.
Seung-tak had denied any growing feelings as anything more than mutual friendship. That’s all it was, and all it ever could be. There was no point for Seung-tak to bother or burden Young-min with his one-sided affections. He couldn’t handle that, especially knowing he’d be forgotten once the other man woke from his coma. Hell, Professor Cha had already rekindled his previous love, so there was no place in his life for Seung-tak, that much was clear.
But something else was wrong.
The butterflies in his stomach were becoming harder to ignore. Seung-tak thought it best to take a nap for now, having no energy to return to his home, or even Professor Cha’s apartment at this moment. Stumbling through the door, he was glad to find the room empty, and even the ghost who so frequently tailed him was off on other business.
That was for the best.
A sudden itch in his throat caused Seung-tak to cough abruptly, surprising himself by the intensity. It felt almost as if he’d swallowed something, a small object stuck in his throat. He couldn’t stop himself as the coughing continued, knees weakening until he collapsed onto the floor.
Pulling his hands away from his lips, the worst of it was far from over.
With wide eyes, Seung-tak stared down at his shaking hands, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. It was a singular pink flower petal, alongside a mild mixture of saliva and blood. His heart sank, lips parted, breathing quickening as his heart beat began drumming in his ears.
No, this couldn’t be possible…
Hanahaki.
Seung-tak swallowed thickly, trying his best to calm himself. It was an illness he was familiar with, but he’d never seen a case of it with his own eyes. He knew what it meant. He knew it could be deadly. But that wasn’t what scared him the most, no--
Young-min could never find out how he felt. He’d never return Seung-tak’s feelings. If anything, it would destroy the friendship they’d developed these past months, and make working together a nightmare.
Seung-tak knew there was only one other solution to his predicament.
But for now, he chose to ignore it.
🌸 🌸 🌸
Young-min had noticed Seung-tak acting rather odd as of late. He felt concerned for the young resident, but assumed all the stress of the surgeries and prolonged possessions were taking a toll on his body. For that reason, Young-min wanted to leave possessions for only when absolutely necessary. After all, Tess had warned him before-- if they weren’t careful, he could end up hurting Seung-tak, or worse…
No, he’d never allow that to happen.
Young-min quickly discarded such terrible thoughts from his mind, instead staring down at the ticket in his hand. It was entry for an event tonight - more specifically, to see Jessica live on stage. He could barely contain his excitement, yet he didn’t understand why Seung-tak would go to such lengths to do something this nice for him. He was even given the go ahead to possess the younger man’s body for the trip, causing a pang of guilt to tug at his chest.
Even when Young-min had protested, Seung-tak had simply shook his head, insisting he had this chance at something enjoyable, for a night outside the hospital. It was hard to argue with Seung-tak, and if Young-min was entirely honest with himself, he couldn’t wait to take him up on the offer.
It was only once Young-min arrived at his allocated seat that he realised Seung-tak’s ulterior motives. He’d set him up. On a date. With Se-jin. But it was awkward, being one person but appearing under the guise of someone else. Regardless of that, the night was lovely-- and Young-min felt he owed Seung-tak a thank you in the least.
Shortly after arriving back at the hospital, and parting ways with Se-jin, his chest began to ache, but in a way he couldn’t quite describe. A sudden cough caught Young-min off guard, immediately covering his mouth with a hand. To his surprise, it continued, reaching aggressively loud levels-- to the point where Young-min was afraid he’d cough up an entire lung.
Suffice to say, he wasn’t far off with his diagnosis.
Staring down at the bloodied petal in his hand, Young-min’s breath caught in his throat. His heart sank, realising what this meant. He didn’t have hanahaki disease, no-- this was Seung-tak’s illness, that much was clear. But it led to more questions. How long had the young resident been suffering with this affliction? Why had he hidden it from Young-min? And the final, more concerning question--
Who was Seung-tak in love with?
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Young-min was thinking, harder than he had in a long time.
There weren’t that many people in Seung-tak’s life, of who would be possible love interests, as far as Young-min could deduce. That was commonplace for those in their field - doctors - to have little time for personal relationships.
The most obvious answer was Resident Oh-- the young woman he frequently watched Seung-tak chat with from afar. He was no expert in love, but it was clear to Young-min that there was at least a little something happening there, unspoken, between them.
That was the part that made no sense.
If Seung-tak was in love with Doctor Oh, then why didn’t he simply confess? They were both young and attractive, in the same field of work, clearly compatible with one another - so why would Seung-tak be afflicted with hanahaki?
Something wasn’t adding up, and Young-min couldn’t sit here and allow Seung-tak to suffer a disease that was easily curable with the right method. If the young resident continued to ignore his feelings, then he’d only continue to deteriorate and suffer, until he was on the brink of death.
Young-min shivered, shaking his head in retaliation.
No. He’d never let that happen. Young-min wasn’t ready to lose Seung-tak. Not now, and not when he could do something about it.
🌸 🌸 🌸
Seung-tak couldn’t deny it any longer.
Each week that passed became harder and harder to cope, to the point where it was becoming impossible to hide his affliction. There had been one too many close calls, and Seung-tak feared that if he wasn’t careful, Young-min may discover his illness should it flare up during a possession, or worse-- during a surgery.
Knowing that his love was one sided, convinced there would never be a world he could live in where his feelings would be reciprocated, Seung-tak resorted to the last option he had.
It didn’t take long to track down Professor Cha. The coma ghost had a few usual spots, one being Doctor Jang’s office, which was somewhere he tried to avoid when he could. It was clear that Professor Cha’s feelings for her remained, even after all these years and the hurt he’d experienced because of her. There was a good chance they’d be together again one he finally woke from his coma, and there was no room for Seung-tak in his life.
Clutching at his chest, he stumbled-- the all too familiar pain flaring up once again, a more common occurrence than ever. He didn’t have long left. Surgery was the last option, and there was only one person he could turn to for such a complex and invasive operation.
Professor Cha.
Seung-tak wanted to cry.
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Young-min was running out of time.
They both were.
Seung-tak had come to him, mere moments ago, asking for help. Young-min immediately feared what the young resident had in mind, but knew it had something to do with his disease. He could see it in Seung-tak’s eyes, and notice how exhausted he’d become as of late.
Seung-tak wanted him to perform the operation personally.
Young-min’s immediate response was to reason with him, to no avail. Seung-tak said he knew the risks, and that he wanted the operation regardless. There was no arguing with him; Seung-tak having made it clear that this was his only choice.
Yet with that said, Young-min couldn’t understand him.
Why did he continue to avoid addressing his feelings? Why couldn’t Seung-tak just approach the person of his affections, and confess? There was always a chance it was reciprocated, and possibly not one-sided, so what else could he have to lose?
What was he… afraid of?
Young-min remained conflicted. If Seung-tak went through with the operation, and it was a success, then his pain and suffering would be over. But on the other hand, so too would his feelings-- disappearing as if they’d never been there in the first place.
Heartbreaking.
Love this strong was rare. To invoke hanahaki, within a person as genuine, charming and wonderful as Seung-tak… Whoever it was, there was no doubt in Young-min’s mind that they were worthy of a man like Seung-tak, and the love that was held for them.
But if this was Seung-tak’s request, if this was his choice-- then Young-min couldn’t say no. He cared more for Seung-tak than he’d ever be able to admit out loud.
The main issue remaining was the surgery itself. Young-min wouldn’t be able to operate until he’d woken from his coma, and even then-- he’d forget all this time they’d spent together in the meantime. Seung-tak ignored his concerns, focussing all his time on helping Young-min regain consciousness, first and foremost.
A surgery for a surgery. It only seemed fair.
In the meantime, Seung-tak would deal the best he could with his affliction until the time came for Young-min to operate, and all the ghost could do was agree-- his life remaining in Seung-tak’s hands.
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Young-min was disappointed that he was going to forget this when he woke. He was technically making history-- the first man to successfully operate on himself while possessing another-- a feat that the medical field probably was not ready for, nor willing to acknowledge.
But they’d done it.
Together.
Seung-tak’s hands with Young-min’s spirit. They were a team now, almost inseparable, and in a way, they’d both miss their unique set up. But now, sadly, it was time for Young-min to say his goodbyes.
It remained unsaid of what was to come. Seung-tak would take credit for the operation. Young-min would wake and forget him. This was how it was destined to be since the beginning, and not something either of them could fight.
So it came to Young-min’s surprise when Seung-tak took advantage of the situation.
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Seung-tak swallowed down the last of his fears, thankful the operation was over, but holding back tears that threatened to break free. Professor Cha was content, his spirit glistening as it began to disappear, finally called back to his physical form.
This was it, his one chance.
“Young-min.”
The professor appeared startled; both not expecting his first name spoken so casually, but also Seung-tak’s sad change of demeanour.
“I love you,” Seung-tak confessed, before quickly adding, “and I’ll miss you.”
Young-min didn’t have time to answer before he disappeared.
🌸 🌸 🌸
Young-min woke, memories intact, with only one thought on his mind--
Seung-tak.
He didn’t have a chance to question how or why he’d retained his memories, all the past months of surgeries, arguments, and time spent with Seung-tak. His heart ached recalling their final conversation, the words stuck in his mind on an endless loop.
I love you.
Young-min swore under his breath, unable to comprehend how much of a blind idiot he’d been all this time. Seung-tak was going to die, all because of him, all from being too dense to realise the younger man’s feelings towards him after it had been so clear for weeks. Young-min realised it now, the tug at his chest, the way he felt warm and comforted any time Seung-tak smiled. He had to find him-- he had to explain himself, to admit his own feelings before it was too late.
Unfortunately, Young-min found his body refusing to cooperate, weakened so much by the time he’d spent in a coma. Even though his will was strong, it mattered not. He’d asked Doctor Oh, the one person he was certain would know-- but she hadn’t heard from Seung-tak since the surgery. Regardless, she agreed to help, but had no clue where Seung-tak could have gone.
No one could find him, not in the hospital, his home, or any other usual place he could be.
Then, an idea.
Wait-- that’s it--
Young-min knew exactly where to find him.
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Young-min was on his feet, albeit barely-- running on a combination of love, longing, and fear-- desperate to find the man of his affections before he lost him.
He stepped through the door of his apartment, glad to finally be home, and praying that his instincts were correct. With a hand on the wall for leverage, Young-min made his way further down the corridor, pausing for a moment when he reached his bedroom door.
Young-min let out a held breath; eyes falling to the bed, that very clearly held someone beneath a mess of blankets. It appeared his presence hadn’t been noticed as of yet, but strength was leaving his body, and Young-min could no longer keep himself upright. He took a seat upon the mattress, resting a hand on what he could only guess was Seung-tak’s side, pulling back the blanket.
Seung-tak remained curled in on himself, hands protectively against his chest. His face was flushed, contorted with pain, cheeks tear-stained and body weak and frail. Young-min had never seen the disease in such late stages, but even he could identify the signs. He was closer to death than he wanted to admit.
“Seung-tak,” Young-min started, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “I’m here…”
A moment passed before Seung-tak began to rouse from sleep, rolling over and eyeing the professor with an expression of confusion, gradually realising what was happening. He made an awkward sound of surprise, struggling to sit up; his limbs refusing to cooperate.
“Professor Cha… I-- I can explain. I didn’t think you’d be back yet.” Seung-tak was panicking now, stuttering excuses through his embarrassment. “You shouldn’t be here. You need rest. The operation--”
“Seung-tak. It’s okay.” Young-min’s hand shifted to Seung-tak’s collar bone, trying his best to be reassuring. “I… remember. I remember everything.”
Wide eyes met his own with realisation. Seung-tak let out a pitiful sound, trying his best to move away, to place distance between them. Young-min wasn’t going to allow the other man to escape, not until he’d properly conveyed his feelings. He was quick to catch Seung-tak, curling an arm around his waist.
“Seung-tak. Please hear me out.”
“I…” The younger man was shivering. It was clear from the stifled sobs that he was crying again. “I’m… sorry,” he said, covering his face with his hands.
“You have nothing to apologise for, Seung-tak. This is my fault. Your suffering, I’m… far too dense for my own good, it would seem.” Young-min finally managed to get Seung-tak to turn to him, caressing his cheek, staring into his eyes. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realise what you mean to me, Seung-tak. Please believe me when I tell you this.”
Seung-tak shook his head. “No, you don’t. You can’t.” He was scared, refusing to believe what he was hearing. “I’ll only let you down. Please don’t pity me, or force yourself. I’ve… accepted my fate.”
A tense moment lingered in the air, and Young-min felt his heart breaking at Seung-tak’s words. He was willing to die rather than burden Young-min with his feelings-- and if that wasn’t genuine love, then he had no idea what else it could be.
“Well I haven’t.” Young-min pulled Seung-tak closer into an awkward, half-hug embrace. “I’m not ready to lose you, and you’re not dying because of me,” he whispered, feeling his own eyes begin to well with unshed tears. “Seung-tak… I’d like to kiss you now, if you’d let me.”
Young-min slowly pulled back, eyes searching for Seung-tak’s, eager to see his expression. Bringing his hands forward, he cupped the younger man’s face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. Seung-tak was shaking, struggling to understand how or why this was happening.
“Young-min…” He mumbled, unable to form a coherent sentence if he tried. “I…”
They realised now that words couldn’t properly convey feeling, so Young-min shut down further doubts and fears, bridging the gap between them. He pressed his lips to Seung-tak’s in the most gentle way possible, lingering for only a fleeting moment-- enough to make his point heard. He could already feel Seung-tak’s tense body relaxing somewhat, eyes closed when they parted, while Young-min waited for a sign.
Seung-tak sniffled awkwardly through a smile, wiping away tears on the back of his sleeve, staring at Young-min as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. Before Young-min could say anything, Seung-tak wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, almost fearing that Young-min would disappear should he ever let go.
Their lips met again, the kiss reciprocated enthusiastically, fore-heads pressed against one another. As they lost themselves in the moment, Seung-tak was finally free of the pain-- replaced with warmth and love in return.