Jongin let out a sigh of relief when Sojin was the one to lead him to the examination room at Bright Vision Eye Clinic for his next appointment. Everything was back to normal, as it always should have been.

Or at least as normal as normal could be, with his mind full of distracting thoughts and his heart beating haphazardly in his chest.

Nonetheless, in spite of his general dislike towards Sojin, her presence here meant that neither Kihyun nor Nurse Kim were going to be suddenly sprung upon him again.

And that meant…

Kyungsoo was back.

Jongin’s heart lurched again and the artist’s knuckles practically turned white from how tightly he was gripping the arms of the examination chair to keep himself stabilized. He couldn’t show any sign of weakness. Not in public and certainly not in Kyungsoo’s workplace.

Luckily, the examination room afforded him some privacy, away from all of the strangers sitting in the lobby. And Sojin was too busy reviewing Jongin’s updated medical file to pay any attention to the artist and his rather overt fidgeting.

When the long-haired nurse finally turned around, Jongin immediately stiffened and kept his gaze purposefully fixed on the white wall in front of him, just below the large screen displaying an electronic eye chart. Although he knew it was silly, now that he had finally admitted his romantic interest in Kyungsoo, both to himself and out loud to someone else, it felt like his budding feelings were now on display for the rest of the world to see, even though he was doing everything he could to keep them hidden. Realistically speaking, there was no way Sojin would be able to see through him and sniff out the feelings he harbored for her boss, especially since he barely interacted with her whenever he was at Bright Vision Eye Clinic.

And yet, his anxiety continued spiking as her calm yet sharp gaze swept over him. The nurse was likely just doing her job and checking his overall condition, in case there was anything amiss that she needed to report to Kyungsoo. But Jongin froze like a statue any time they briefly made eye contact with each other.

In fact, even at the risk of jinxing himself, considering his current condition, the artist had never wished more than to be completely blind, if only to protect himself while he was in such a vulnerable state. At the very least, it would prevent Sojin from discovering anything about him if eyes really were the windows to the soul.

However, it wouldn’t remedy the other ways in which Jongin’s jitters were currently manifesting. His throat constricted, the airways within closing themselves up until it felt like he could barely breathe, while his heart hammered like thunder, practically deafening him.

Luckily—or maybe unluckily, Jongin didn’t know anymore at this point—Kyungsoo stepped into the examination room with a hearty, “Hello!”

But now, that meant he had two people to avoid looking at. And when one of them was specifically the person who was inducing all of this unnecessary stress, Jongin wanted nothing more than to evaporate into thin air and never return.

“Have a great rest of your weekend, Sojin!”

“You too, Kyungsoo! See you on Monday!” While beaming brightly, she sent the ophthalmologist a quick wave before stepping out of the examination room and sliding the door shut.

Jongin was so focused on trying to look anywhere but directly at Kyungsoo that he almost forgot to feel annoyed at the ease and familiarity in which the two medical professionals had spoken to each other. In fact, it now made perfect sense as to why he had always felt that way and the initial twinge of irritation morphed into relief from understanding himself better. Not that it really helped Jongin in his current situation, in which the subject of his newfound affections was looking at him with those large brown eyes that had hypnotized the artist in their first meeting several months before.

It was surreal to think about how quickly things had changed in just a matter of months.

Before, Jongin had looked upon Do Kyungsoo with contempt, distrust, and spite.

Whereas now…

It was almost the exact opposite.

Despite having had two whole weeks to adjust himself to these foreign feelings, to this frightening revelation, sitting directly in front of Kyungsoo was an entirely new challenge in itself. And Jongin’s continuous fidgeting was certainly doing the artist no favors either.

Kyungsoo didn’t try to hide his confusion as the ophthalmologist glanced over at Jongin every few seconds, picking up on his nervous energy and wondering why the other male was so uncharacteristically jittery.

And because Jongin could see Kyungsoo watching him, the artist grew even more restless and continued pointedly avoiding eye contact, which fed into an endless positive feedback loop—although Jongin would describe it as anything but positive.

Negative. Nightmarish. Nerve-wracking.

Those were the adjectives that sprung to mind as Jongin tried, rather unsuccessfully, to portray a veneer of calm and confidence. However, he could tell that he wasn’t fooling anyone with his lackluster attempts and a tiny part of him wondered if Kihyun could substitute as his medical provider again, if only so Jongin could gather his bearings in peace and figure out how to rewind time, back to when he was blissfully ignorant of these annoyingly distracting emotions.

After what felt like an eternity, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes maximum, Dr. Do sat down on his ivory-colored wheelie stool with Jongin’s medical file balanced expertly on his lap. He smiled kindly at the other man, hoping that the small gesture would help ease the artist’s palpable apprehension. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it has…” Jongin did his best to send the other male a smile, stiff as it was.

“How’ve you been?”

“Um, I’ve been…okay.”

The ophthalmologist looked at him curiously.

“Just…doing a lot of thinking lately,” Jongin replied, his smile becoming more pinched by the second.

Kyungsoo slowly nodded, visibly unconvinced by the vague answer. However, deciding that it would be best not to press for more details, the ophthalmologist pivoted subjects instead and asked, “How was your appointment with Dr. Yoo last time?”

Jongin instantly grimaced at the memory of the disastrous appointment.

And Kyungsoo sighed, unsurprised by the nonverbal response, having already heard from Kihyun how it had gone. A part of him had foolishly held out hope that perhaps his colleague had just read the artist incorrectly, even though he knew how his first few appointments with Jongin had gone.

But perhaps he had been a bit too hopeful.

“Well, I suppose it could’ve gone worse,” Dr. Do commented with a wry smile. “You didn’t threaten to sue the clinic afterwards, so I’ll take that as a win.”

Jongin immediately leaned forward in protest. “What the—” he spluttered, eyes wide with confusion. “I—I’ve never done that!”

“Don’t worry, Jongin. I’m just kidding,” Dr. Do explained while chuckling. “I know you’d never be that vengeful.”

The artist relaxed his arms as he gingerly leaned back in his seat, exhaling loudly to distract himself from the loud pounding of his racing heartbeat in his ears.

Kyungsoo didn’t often crack jokes with him. In fact, was this actually the first time he had done so?

Jongin attempted to comb through his memories for any prior instances, but instantly gave up due to apprehension wiping his brain blank. He could barely keep his nerves in check, much less go on a mental scavenger hunt when his thoughts were muddled to the core.

Regardless, the ophthalmologist was usually all business during these appointments, so Jongin tried to rationalize with himself that his overreaction hadn’t actually been an overreaction. After all, how was he to know that Kyungsoo would suddenly flip the script on him and pull out a joke—albeit, a rather harmless one, all things considered—after a month of not seeing each other?

Jongin tried not to read into it, knowing that he was only setting himself for a sleepless night of overthinking if he did, and managed to send the ophthalmologist another strained smile while surreptitiously digging his palms against his legs to keep his arms from shaking. “Uh, how was your trip?” he managed to choke out, keeping his strained smile firmly plastered on his face.

“It was fun,” Dr. Do cheerfully replied. “I’m glad we were able to escape the humidity for a bit. The conference also went well, and we had some downtime to walk around some nearby parks for fresh air and exercise. There was a wine-tasting event on the last night of the conference as well, which was new. We don’t usually get to drink on the clock, so several folks took advantage of the free alcohol,” he recalled with a light chuckle.

“Sounds nice,” Jongin mumbled with a small scowl, thinking of Yixing’s annoyingly strict rules, even if they were for the artist’s benefit.

Dr. Do chuckled again before explaining, “One of the conference sponsors was a French winery, so they also served us free wine every night at dinner. Even though I don’t drink often, I will say that they spoiled us with some very expensive bottles, which was a nice surprise.”

“Let me guess, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti?”

The ophthalmologist raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I didn’t know you were such a wine connoisseur.”

“Uh, I learned a lot about expensive wine—or, I guess, wine in general—while I was living in France,” Jongin explained with a lopsided smile. “Any time I was at a fancy event in Burgundy, if the event organizers wanted to show off, they’d bring out DRC. It’s high-quality wine, so I never minded.”

“Well, it almost made the conference registration fee worth it,” the ophthalmologist quipped in agreement. He then brightly added, “I also managed to secure an appointment for you with a colleague of mine, Dr. Lee Kikwang, who works at Seoul National University.”

Jongin instantly stiffened again, but for a completely different reason this time. “You… You what?”

“Now, hear me out, Jongin.” Dr. Do briefly held his hands up while sending the artist a reassuring smile. “There’s an optical instrument called an anomaloscope that I’ve wanted to use, ever since you started coming here. But because I haven’t been sufficiently trained to operate one or analyze its readings, I pushed it off until I had a chance to find someone who is able to do so. Dr. Lee and I have known each other for years, since we were in the same residency program, and I promise that he’s brilliant at what he does.”

The taller male narrowed his eyes and frowned as he asked, suspicion coloring his tone, “Why can’t you learn how to use it though? Can’t he just—I dunno—teach you or something? Wouldn’t that help you become a more well-rounded ophthalmologist?”

Dr. Do smiled ruefully while nodding his head. “You’re right, it would. Unfortunately, I just don’t have time to learn such a specialized skill with everything else I’m juggling at the clinic. You’re my only patient who really needs something like this—”

Jongin cringed.

“—so I thought it’d be easier to get an actual expert to handle this, rather than delay things even further if I took it upon myself. And since I trust Dr. Lee, it was a no-brainer for me to ask him for advice and help regarding your case. Besides, I’d rather not use you as a guinea pig,” Dr. Do added. “If I handle the anomaloscope and something goes wrong or I make a mistake, then I would have failed you as a medical provider. And you don’t deserve that after everything you’ve been through.”

“Well…” After he unsuccessfully wracked his brain for several seconds, trying to find any other reason to avoid seeing yet another eye specialist, Jongin ultimately relented and let out a begrudging sigh. “I guess that makes sense…” Then, there was a slight pause before he murmured, “Thank you, Kyungsoo. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Jongin. I know it isn’t ideal, but I promise it’ll be the better solution in the long-run,” Dr. Do reassured him. “And I’ll be at the appointment with you to serve as the liaison and answer any questions that either you or Dr. Lee may have.”

The artist’s eyes widened in surprise. “You—you will?”

Dr. Do nodded, eyes blinking owlishly. “Well, only if you’re comfortable with it. If you’re not, I’m more than happy to bow out and let you handle it on your own. I guess I should’ve asked if you’d be alright with it first,” the ophthalmologist said with a sheepish chuckle.

“It—it’s fine,” Jongin stiffly answered. “It’ll be better…to have you around.” As he finished speaking, Jongin surreptitiously grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt, using the smooth sensation of the soft fabric to keep himself grounded. Because as much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, despite the fact that being in the same room as Kyungsoo right now was absolutely terrifying, the thought of Kyungsoo not being there at his appointment with Dr. Lee was much scarier.

And Jongin wished he could erase every thought in his brain, every emotion, every sensation possible, because when had he become so dependent on someone else? Why did it matter so much to have Kyungsoo there? To have Kyungsoo anywhere?

The artist was fully capable of seeing this other eye specialist on his own. In fact, if this were any other situation, he would have actually preferred it.

But now that the carrot had been dangled in front of him, Jongin couldn’t even dare to imagine going to this appointment alone.

No, that was wrong. Going alone wasn’t the issue.

Going without Kyungsoo was what mattered.

Completely unaware of the circles that Jongin was currently running in his head, Dr. Do cheerily said, “Ms. Jung will forward you the appointment details once we’ve confirmed all of the logistics with Dr. Lee’s office. If you have any major schedule conflicts, please be sure to let her know before you leave today.”

Jongin nodded, eyes blank as he tried to properly process everything. Then, there was a brief stretch of silence until he quietly asked, “What if…this doesn’t work either?”

Kyungsoo hesitated, even though it pained him to do so. Hearing the utter defeat in Jongin’s voice was…gut-wrenching, to say the least. Knowing that it had been more than five months since the artist had started coming to Bright Vision Eye Clinic and yet, they were still no closer to discovering a solution than they’d been at the start was frustrating in itself for Kyungsoo as well.

But it was still infinitely more discouraging for Jongin as the patient and rightfully so. That was why Kyungsoo had to try his best, why he had to succeed, even if the odds were solidly stacked against them.

“There’s…still one more option that we could try,” Dr. Do slowly answered. “But…I’ll be honest with you, Jongin.”

The artist nodded again, keeping his lips pressed into a thin line.

“If the test results from the anomaloscope end up contradicting all of the other data we’ve collected so far, I don’t know if—”

“Kyungsoo!” And without warning, a tall man wearing in a red leather jacket burst into the examination room, blubbering incoherently while swaying precariously, long limbs flailing every which way.

“What on earth—” The ophthalmologist quickly stood up and managed to catch the teary-eyed, lanky man before he could accidentally knock down any of the expensive medical equipment in the small room. “Chanyeol?! What are you doing here?!”

“I—I’m so sorry, Kyungsoo!” Soojung panted heavily as she suddenly appeared next, leaning against the doorway for support. “I tried to—to keep him from—from disturbing you until—until Mr. Kim was finished with—with his appointment, but—”

“Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol bawled again, clinging tightly to the shorter male like his very life depended on it.

Jongin instinctively leaned forward, arms ready to tug Kyungsoo out of harm’s way in case the giant oaf unwittingly crushed him to the floor. However, the rational side of his brain halted the artist’s body within milliseconds instead. In any case, it wasn’t his place to interfere between the two best friends, even though he desperately wanted to punt Park Chanyeol across the hall and out of the building. So Jongin could only watch, completely dumbfounded, as the ophthalmologist carefully steered his best friend to the vacant plush armchair in the corner of the room and gently sat him down.

The unmistakable scent of alcohol wafted around the room, originating from none other than Park Chanyeol. It was sour, pungent, and overwhelming in the worst way possible. Jongin almost threw up in his seat and he had to hastily shield his nose from the odor’s sheer strength to prevent his own stomach from dangerously flip-flopping within him.

Even though the evening was still young, Chanyeol looked trashed enough to have been drinking for a week straight, if the powerful smell of alcohol surrounding the guitarist were any indication.

If he hadn’t harbored such intense disdain towards the taller male, Jongin might have felt sorry for the clearly distressed man. After all, drunk people didn’t just show up unannounced at their best friends’ workplaces for no reason.

Kyungsoo seemed to share the same sentiment and he soothingly asked, “What happened, Chanyeol?” while keeping his right arm firmly around the tall male’s shoulders to prevent him from toppling forward in his inebriated state.

The guitarist’s bottom lip wobbled as a new wave of tears escaped the corners of his already damp, reddened eyes. He then hiccupped loudly, seemingly unable to vocalize his thoughts.

“What’s the matter, Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo gently tried again, sending his distraught best friend an encouraging smile and rubbing comforting circles against his back.

Another hiccup escaped Chanyeol’s pale lips before he buried his face against the ophthalmologist’s shoulder and wailed loudly, “My life is over, Kyungsoo! Everything’s ruined!”

♈♈♈