Work Text:
1. Then mourn not for thy husband’s loss too much
It’s quite standard, Taeyeon had said, voice tinny over the speaker. For you, interesting, even.
Baekhyun tapped the nib of his pen against his notebook. Not interesting enough to drag you out of retirement?
Laughter, low and scratchy. She had recently picked up storm chasing.
Nobody’s worth putting a suit on for.
—
One of them is seated on the armchair in front of him. The other has chosen to stand behind his husband, slouching a little. Baekhyun gestures towards the other chair.
Please.
I’d prefer to stand.
Guilty. Baekhyun observes the bent slope of his–- Changkyun— neck. Standard after all.
We’ll start with introductions.
The other one— Kihyun— looks at him sharply. I’m Kihyun. That’s Changkyun.
I’m Dr. Byun Baekhyun. Baekhyun sits back in his chair. Why are you here today? He looks from Kihyun to Changkyun. Changkyun looks away and begins pacing. Kihyun?
Kihyun glances at his husband and tongues the inside of his cheek.
I’ll start from the beginning. He schools on a smile. I have an exceptional memory.
—
In his early years of guest lecturing at the KNPU, the first thing Baekhyun had taught the young trainees was never to trust a truthful witness.
The fatal flaw of the morally righteous is not their esteem of themselves, but their love for the truth.
A young woman looked up, curious. Truth was truth, after all.
Baekhyun surveyed the conference hall. A few more heads looked up from ferocious note-taking. They were all waiting. None of them trusted him. In a way that was a pedagogic victory.
The eye seeks what the heart believes is already there, he continued.
And if it’s not there? Same girl.
Baekhyun clicked the remote. The slide moved to OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE. Then the mind will create it. He smiles. Confirmation bias is a deadly thing.
—
The call comes late one evening. Baekhyun brushes away eraser shavings and examines the finished piece. He puts away his pencil and picks up.
What is a man to do to see you outside of office hours?
Pause. Dr. Yoo. Baekhyun glances at the wall clock. It’s rather late.
The good doctor seems to be in, all the same.
Baekhyun lets it simmer. Kihyun is breathing slowly, an uncanny rhythm matching the gentle hum of Baekhyun’s office air conditioning. Curiosity finally wins over reservation.
Kihyun arrives just after eight. He stands near the door as Baekhyun moves back to his desk. He turns the reading lamps off and flicks the master switch. Kihyun is looking around at the walls. His gaze settles on the niche behind Baekhyun’s desk, a reproduction of Seokguram.
I’d been meaning to ask about that.
He moves to seat himself on one of the visitor armchairs and unbuttons his blazer. Are you religious, Dr. Byun?
No.
A narcissist, then?
I’m a lover of the arts. Baekhyun takes his seat opposite. Why are you here, Dr. Yoo?
A beat.
I have a proposal for you, doctor to doctor.
Baekhyun runs through the possibilities in his head. This had to do with the husband. Kihyun, militant as he is to emphasise the degrees of separation between his cheating husband and himself, is functionally unable to exist out of context to Changkyun. It was why Changkyun had done what he had done. Baekhyun waits for Kihyun to continue but he vacates his chair and wanders to Baekhyun’s desk.
Baekhyun twists around. Kihyun lays a delicate finger on the topmost sheet.
Jongmyo. Baekhyun looked over Kihyun’s shoulder. He had not quite gotten to finish that one. Abode of kings.
And queens. Kihyun’s face turns over his shoulder. The light slides wetly on the slope of his nose. Would you help me unseat a king?
Baekhyun observes the downturn of his eyelashes, this man bashfully asking another to be party to his husband’s destruction.
Calling him ‘king’ is an insult to the Jongmyo gods, don’t you think?
Kihyun laughs and turns around. They are closer than they should be. Baekhyun takes a proprietary step backward. Kihyun watches him. He is waiting.
Baekhyun considers it. Hippocrates would be ashamed.
Kihyun shrugs. Can’t say he was acquainted with the wrath of a spurned spouse.
—
Yoo Kihyun, me 2
Scans
(no body) ☆
|
🆆 MRI-ImChang… |
—
He can see the blue and red of an umbrella behind her as she talks. The wind is whipping her hair all around her. She is excited, flushed with joy.
Well?
He hears laughter, high and feminine. Forget that, how’s your wife?
Taeyeon’s smile broadens underneath her sunglasses. Never better.
Baekhyun watches her look at something off camera, hears her laughter directed to someone else, a you’ll get sunburnt! He drums his fingers on his desktop.
Be honest. Why did you refer him to me? I don’t do couples counselling.
Taeyeon turns back to the camera, a smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth. She shrugs.
I thought you’d like a challenge. She lowers her sunglasses, amused. ‘Him’ sounds like you’re counselling only one of them though, so—
Baekhyun smiles back. Have a good vacation, Dr. Kim.
—
Gwangju, a couple months ago. He gets bitten as soon as he steps out. This time was no different, except-
Kihyun taps on the report splayed out on Baekhyun’s desktop.
He would be prescribed antibiotics normally.
What’s different this time?
Kihyun shrugs. Deliberate oversight on my part. I’m his doctor. He stares off into space, turning his head to the Seokguram Buddha behind Baekhyun. He trusts me.
In all fairness, there was not much in this for Baekhyun. Minimal reward for high stakes, a revocation of his licence and professional disgrace to boot. Kihyun is interesting, but not that interesting. But then again, more interesting than most. Baekhyun thinks he can grow to like him.
As did you, him.
—
Changkyun is alone, as Kihyun had predicted. He sits in the chair usually occupied by Kihyun, hands gripping his knees. His leg bounces. His grip tightens until it stops.
Baekhyun waits for him to speak.
I’m. Changkyun swallows, blinking rapidly. Baekhyun sees his lips moving around his own name. To speed things up, he offers to help.
Can you list five things-
Changkyun’s head snaps up. I’m not a child. He takes a deep, trembling breath. My name is Im Changkyun, I’m in Gangnam-gu. It is 6:55pm.
He swallows. Baekhyun gestures toward the glass of water on the table next to Changkyun’s chair. Changkyun hesitates, then holds it gingerly between his hands. I didn’t know where else to go.
A hospital would be a good-
They tell me nothing’s wrong. Changkyun gulps down water. It drips down the corners of his mouth and pools in his chest. Baekhyun taps an irritated finger on the arm of his chair. Changkyun puts his glass down. I don’t remember how I got here. He clasps both hands together as if in prayer. I can’t remember much these days.
Baekhyun offers him a smile. Sometimes it’s the projector and not the projected image that’s the problem. Changkyun looks up, fear etched into the lines near his eyes. Baekhyun leans forward.
Have you considered therapy for yourself, Changkyun?
—
2. Here she lies, yielding her body to her grief.
Changkyun was shifting from foot to foot. Even in the relative familiarity of Kihyun’s office he declined sitting down. Kihyun leisurely scrolled through a magazine on his computer, listing off things on autopilot.
“What are your symptoms?”
“You know my symptoms.”
Kihyun glanced at him and then back at the screen. He clicked on another column. “Tell me again.”
Changkyun sniffed. Kihyun heard the creak of his chair as he leaned back.
“Headaches. Nausea. Um, I lose time? Can’t remember a lot of what I did during the day—”
“Have you been blacking out?”
A pause. “I guess? Chunks are missing…”
Kihyun scrolled a bit more. There was a new restaurant opening in Seocho-gu. He made a mental note to pay a visit. “And?”
Changkyun cleared his throat. “Well. You said I had a seizure the other day. I don’t remember anything.”
“You did have a seizure,” Kihyun confirmed. He clicked off the website and got to his feet. “Let’s run a few tests and see what’s up.”
—
After dinner, Changkyun took him upstairs.
His old bedroom had none of the old memorabilia, having been rented out for many years before his parents retired to it. The walls were bare, the bed too large for a child. Changkyun walked to the middle and turned around to face Kihyun. He spread out both arms.
“Sorry we can’t fuck with the proper atmosphere,” he said.
Kihyun raised an eyebrow. “Who said I wanted to fuck?”
Changkyun pressed his lips together and shrugged. Kihyun pushed off the door frame and shut the door behind him.
“Get on the bed. Shoes off.”
He could hear Changkyun’s mother downstairs. His father laughed. Kihyun cupped Changkyun’s cheek as he undid the front of Kihyun’s pants and slipped a hand in between his legs. Changkyun pressed his face to Kihyun’s cock over his briefs, his breathing slow and even. Kihyun ran his fingers through his hair.
“How’s Hyungwon?”
Changkyun stopped and looked up. Kihyun’s hand tightened in his hair. Changkyun grunted and shut his eyes. Kihyun pulled out his cock and pushed Changkyun’s mouth to it. Changkyun opened easily. His hands came up to hold Kihyun around the waist but Kihyun slapped them away.
“Don’t fucking touch me. Hands behind your back.”
Changkyun’s throat distended as he swallowed. Kihyun pushed him back and straddled his waist. Changkyun’s mouth parted, closed, opened and then closed again. Kihyun ground down against him, a hand around Changkyun’s throat. He squeezed.
“D’you still love me?” Kihyun asked.
Changkyun coughed and sputtered, eyes wide. His hands scrabbled at Kihyun’s forearm. “Yes. Yes, of course—”
Kihyun pulled himself off to sit at the edge of the bed. Changkyun sat up, breathing hard.
“Hey,” he whispered. His hand tugged at Kihyun’s shoulder. Kihyun turned to face him. Changkyun leaned forward. Kihyun kissed him on the mouth, his neck, mouth settling around the dip in the middle of Changkyun’s throat.
“You lied to me,” he whispered.
A beat. “I’m sorry.”
Kihyun looked up. Contrition erased the lines and scars of Changkyun’s face, made it look childlike and soft. He leaned in for another kiss and Kihyun slapped him across the face.
—
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Kihyun glances at Baekhyun and slowly removes the single sheet of eggshell suede. He runs the pad of his finger gingerly around the delicate drawing, breath caught in his throat.
“I’m afraid I’m a bit uncultured,” he says softly, afraid to breathe too harshly near the piece. He looks up at Baekhyun, “I can only appreciate the beauty and not the substance.”
Baekhyun smiles. He leaves his chair and comes to perch on the arm of Kihyun’s. Kihyun smells the warm sugar of his perfume as he leans in and talks.
“Glauce breathing her last,” Baekhyun pronounces. His finger joins Kihyun’s near the head of the dying woman, “When Jason deserted Medea, Medea killed their children to punish him. Everyone knows that story.”
Kihyun nods, turns his head slightly to indicate he is listening. Baekhyun speaks gently near his ear.
“But they often forget about Medea’s sister wife, Glauce, daughter of Kreon, whom Medea sent a poisoned gift that set her on fire.”
Kihyun looks at the drawing again; a woman sprawled upon stone steps, eyes and mouth agape as she burns.
“She has his eyes,” he observes.
Baekhyun laughs. His arm settles behind Kihyun’s neck over the back of his chair.
“Yes,” he agrees, delighted. “She does.”
—
Changkyun emerged in the hospital gown, rubbing a hand on his arm. Kihyun led him down to Radiology and into the MRI room.
“I’m going to check for head trauma,” he said as he helped Changkyun onto the slab. “Concussion, hematoma, haemorrhage. We’ll see what’s wrong.”
“I know how an MRI works,” Changkyun muttered.
Kihyun stiffened, then moved to the other side of the room. The machine began to whirr.
—
Minhyuk put the glass in front of him and took a seat opposite. The cafe was mostly empty at midday.
“Did you go see the guy?” He asked.
Kihyun stirred the latte with its straw. “Counselling is not the solution.”
“And separation is?”
“I don’t see how it can hurt.”
“Have you talked to Changkyun?”
“He’s been sick.”
Minhyuk went quiet. He had not ordered anything for himself. Kihyun sipped on his watery coffee.
“I know someone,” Minhyuk began after a long time. Kihyun scoffed without looking up. “Listen. She’s good. One of the best. She doesn’t practise anymore but I can get a referral from her.”
Kihyun pushed the ice around with the straw. “And if it doesn’t work?”
“It will,” said Minhyuk firmly.
—
“Yes, I did,” Kihyun says.
Baekhyun leans against his desk. He glances at the MRI scans. “What do you think, then?”
Kihyun examines the scans again. He crosses his arms. “It’s encephalitis.”
“I don’t think the—”
“It’s not quite there yet,” Kihyun interrupts coolly. He goes and takes a seat at Baekhyun’s chair. He can feel Baekhyun’s eyes on him, calculating the weight of his transgression.
Kihyun looks up at him, chin cushioned on the heel of one hand. “But it will be.”
Baekhyun is silent for a few moments, his face impassive. From where he stands, he can see the Buddha looming behind Kihyun’s head. Kihyun leans back in the chair, posture straight, both hands splayed on the stuffed arms.
“And what is my role in this,” Baekhyun’s lip curls with delicate disdain, “ tableaux of yours?”
Kihyun smiles, wider and wider until his teeth descend. He folds his hands in front of him.
“A witness,” he says simply.
—
3. I will pour and pour
Kihyun raises his glass. “To health.”
Across the table, Baekhyun does the same. “Whose health are we drinking to?”
Kihyun gestures towards Changkyun standing by the wall, the whites of his eyes trembling as he shudders in place, stiff as a chopping block.
“His,” says Kihyun. Baekhyun chuckles. They drink.
“He will be conscious soon,” Baekhyun notes.
Changkyun has gone still, his pupils dilated to dark pools. Kihyun finishes his drink and goes to Changkyun. He puts a hand on Changkyun’s cheek, then his forehead, examines his eyes. He hums, satisfied.
“I think he’ll be relieved to find that I’ve summoned his doctor,” says Kihyun.
Bekhyun joins him. They stand staring at Changkyun together. Kihyun turns to Baekhyun and finds him staring back.
“ You’re his doctor,” Baekhyun whispers. His eyes flit to Kihyun’s mouth, “I’m his therapist.”
Kihyun breathes out, long and slow. “Isn’t he lucky to have us both?” He says and meets Baekhyun halfway.
Baekhyun’s fingers trail over Kihyun’s jaw and slip into the hair above his ear. Kihyun’s tongue licks the roof of Baekhyun’s mouth. He moans. Baekhyun’s mouth glides across his chin to his throat. Kihyun grips the back of his neck and looks at Changkyun.
“See,” he whispers to the air. Baekhyun’s hands slide down to his waist, pulling Kihyun in against him. “See.”