That had been too easy.

Kyungsoo was relieved that Kim Jongin seemed to be less antagonistic during this visit, but the patient’s sudden willingness to act somewhat affably was also strange. The ophthalmologist didn’t know if he should keep his guard up or if he should relax now that it seemed like Kim Jongin was acting like a decent human being, but ultimately decided on the former. Who knew if he would be back to his rude, aggressive self during the next visit? Or if he would act even worse than he had before? Not to mention, poor Soojung seemed to be scared out of her wits whenever the man showed up at her desk with his brooding aura infecting the otherwise serene atmosphere around him.

As he entered in the details of Kim Jongin’s appointment into the patient database onto his computer to be analyzed before his next patient arrived, Kyungsoo decided that he wouldn’t bother himself with stressing over the complexity of his enigmatic patient. He was the man’s ophthalmologist, not his psychologist. Kyungsoo had no real reason to worry about his patient’s confusing actions, as long as they didn’t bar him from performing his duties as Kim Jongin’s clinician, even if he had been unknowingly cornered into the position. Throughout his years as an ophthalmologist, Kyungsoo had encountered his fair share of difficult patients, but none quite as bad-tempered as Kim Jongin.

A loud knock sounded on the door to his office, causing Kyungsoo to pause in his typing and call out, “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Sojin, whose arms were crossed over her chest while her wavy, chestnut brown hair was done up in a messy bun. “Coffee break?” she asked with a serene smile as she leaned against the doorway.

“I really shouldn’t—”

“Oh, come on, Kyungsoo. You need to relax for a few minutes before your next appointment,” Sojin cut in while waving her hand, as if brushing away the ophthalmologist’s incoming protests. “Soojung told me about the grump,” the nurse added as she walked over to Kyungsoo’s desk and placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. “You also skipped lunch today and Soojung feels terribly about it.”

Kyungsoo sighed and shook his head as he thought of the receptionist, who he knew would be anxiously beating herself up over the appointment when it really wasn’t her fault. She had no control over how Kim Jongin acted and wasn’t in charge for keeping the rude patient in line, especially when he was a grown adult who should be responsible for himself. “That silly girl,” the ophthalmologist commented with an amused smile on his youthful face.

“Let’s go to the break room for some coffee,” Sojin proposed. “It’s empty at the moment, so now’s the perfect chance before your two o’clock appointment.” She then glanced at his computer screen and caught sight of the patient’s photo on the pulled up file before adding, “And you need a break from Kim Jongin as well.”

Perhaps it would be good to unwind for a moment. He had been working non-stop since eight in the morning, when Bright Vision Eye Clinic opened, and was scheduled to finish at around five in the afternoon, depending on how long his last appointment ended up being. Kim Jongin’s file could wait.

After Kyungsoo nodded and pressed several keys to save the artist’s file on the patient database, Sojin rubbed his shoulder affectionately as she said, “Great! Eunji prepared a new pot of coffee not too long ago, so it should still be fresh.” The nurse began chattering away as the two colleagues walked out of Kyungsoo’s office to the eye clinic’s break room and the ophthalmologist smiled as the tension left his shoulders while he leisurely listened to Sojin speak excitedly about her younger brother’s recent engagement.

--

That had been too easy.

Even though Jongin’s covered eyes felt uncomfortably heavy due to the earlier dilation, this discomfort was trivial in comparison to the lightness in his heart. This visit, while still failing to give him the answers that he desperately needed, hadn’t been so bad in retrospect. Although Kyungsoo had lashed out at him in the middle, it had at least given Jongin the opportunity to worm his way into the ophthalmologist’s good graces. The man should feel honored, at least in Jongin’s opinion. He didn’t lay down his walls for just anyone.

But Jongin also had to admit to himself that he was intrigued by the ophthalmologist, which was one of the main reasons those walls had been lowered in the first place. In the beginning, it had been Kyungsoo’s large, round umber brown eyes that Jongin had failed countless times to flawlessly capture on paper. Then, it was the ophthalmologist’s dark brown locks that Jongin was still struggling to match to the perfect shade. The artist speculated which of Kyungsoo’s features would stand out at his next appointment.

It was like a game. And quite a fun one at that.

With a small smile, Jongin leaned back into his seat and cheerily whistled a tune as Yixing drove him home from the eye clinic. The manager side-eyed his friend in confusion while asking, “What’s gotten you in such a good mood all of a sudden?”

“Nothing.”

Yixing raised an eyebrow, knowing that with Jongin, it was never simply “nothing.” But also knowing that the artist hated having to explain himself, Yixing decided that it wasn’t worth the potential argument to prod even further. Jongin seemed to be happy at the moment, which was enough for the manager.

--

“Don’t wait for me,” the artist called out from short hallway leading to the mansion entrance as he pulled on a long maroon trench coat with a high collar that he could use to partially conceal his face. His eyes were still covered by his black aviator sunglasses, but they didn’t feel as heavy as they had earlier. Jongin didn’t think he would be recognized while he was out, but it was better to take some precautions on the off chance that he was. Not to mention, Yixing would probably keep the artist under house arrest if he happened to be caught aimlessly wandering around. Like his manager said, suddenly appearing in public after months of radio silence from such a prominent, desired artist would certainly not go well with the public.

“But Jongdae will be back from work soon for dinner!” Yixing answered back from the kitchen where he was busily preparing their evening meal.

“Just eat without me. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Before his manager could speak further, Jongin quickly slipped on a pair of dull black leather Oxford dress shoes that he mentally reminded himself to get shined sometime soon and stepped out the front door, locking it securely behind him. As he walked out of the front garden and passed through the property’s gated entrance, Jongin disdainfully looked down at his feet to observe his shoes even more. They were in an utterly dreadful state that was completely unbefitting his usual immaculate appearance, but the artist sardonically supposed that they perfectly matched his currently muddled mind instead.

Jongin immediately halted in his tracks, not caring if his actions seemed strange to any passerby, and screwed his eyes shut. He had to stop beating himself up for his inabilities. He hadn’t come all the way back to Seoul just to continue wallowing in his misery; he could have continued doing that in Paris. But he clearly hadn’t wanted to, which is why the artist had flown halfway across the world to hopefully figure out why he was such a failure instead of letting himself stagnate even further.

He needed to take advantage of this unusual wave of good vibes that was currently surrounding him instead of allowing the negativity to swallow him back down. Perhaps today was the day when Jongin’s muse would return to strike him with that much needed bolt of inspiration. Although it was already late afternoon and the sun was beginning to set, the artist was committed to walking around the city right now while he was still in a decent mood to see if anything would jumpstart his creative juices.

Jongin couldn’t give up after barely stepping five paces from his residence. That would just be pathetic to a new degree.

It took him several minutes, but soon, the artist was strolling down the sidewalk with his hands tucked in his coat pockets. His gaze roamed around without fixating on anything or anyone in particular. Every so often, when he felt like someone was looking in his direction, Jongin would move one of his hands up to the high collar of his trench coat while dipping his head down to avoid any direct eye contact. Luckily, there weren’t too many people walking on the street, so he felt much more relaxed than he usually did when he was outside by himself.

Then, a glint of silver caught Jongin’s eye and while keeping his left hand on his high coat collar to hide his recognizable face from view, he reached down with his right hand to grasp the coin that lay abandoned on the sidewalk. Any other day, the artist would have ignored the loose change on the ground, deeming it too insignificant for him to pay any attention to. But today, while he was still in the mood for inspiration to hit him, Jongin would even look at a blade of grass if it even slightly captivated him.

To his surprise, the artist recognized the coin as an American nickel instead of a regular fifty won coin that he had initially thought it to be. And it was an older nickel that was no longer being minted, seeing as Thomas Jefferson’s side profile and the year 1988 were printed on the head of the five-cent coin. A foreigner must have accidentally dropped it, since there was no reason whatsoever for the locals to use American currency here. Jongin couldn’t think of any other explanation for the unfamiliar coin suddenly appearing in the streets of Seoul.

Its previously ridged edges were smoothed down from decades of being transferred from sealed coin rolls to cash registers, spacious pockets to wallets, grubby hands to piggy banks, and so much more. This coin probably had been in the possession of dozens of owners, all using it for different purposes. Whether it was to buy a snack from the neighborhood convenience store, to serve as change for an expensive dinner being paid for with bills, or even to be given to someone less fortunate who desperately needed something to help buy their next meal.

Every coin had its own special journey. The thousands, even millions, of tiny scratches and scuff marks on a single coin carried its entire history. Just like fingerprints, just like snowflakes, just like humans, coins were unique and never underwent the same ordeals as their peers did. Although they all shared the same beginning as sheets of metal that were fed through machines to become the round discs that everyone was so familiar with, each coin ultimately traveled a one of a kind path that could never be replicated by any other.

As his fingers rubbed over the surface of the five-cent piece, Jongin thought to himself how disheartening it was that the Jefferson nickel was probably the most overlooked coin in American currency. It didn’t stand out or have the same lucky connotation that the Lincoln penny did. It wasn’t the go-to, multipurpose coin that the Washington quarter was. It wasn’t rare and sought after like the Kennedy half-dollar or the golden Sacagawea dollar coins were. Even the Roosevelt dime was utilized more often with its useful denominator of a tenth and was easier to carry around with its sleek, thin width that contrasted greatly with the larger, thicker nickel.

Out of all of the minted American coins currently in circulation, the Jefferson nickel was the odd one out.

And in Seoul, this particular five-cent piece was even more out of place as it had virtually no practical value as foreign currency. Jongin wondered how long it had been lying on the street before he had chanced upon it. He wondered how many people had glanced past it as if it were invisible. He wondered how many summer storms and winter blizzards it had braved on the unsheltered pavement. He wondered how many times it had been stepped on, like it was trash on the side of the road.

Jongin wondered if this nickel’s story would have ended there if he hadn’t picked it up, giving it a new chance to continue forth on its journey.

The artist tossed the silver coin up into the air, watching the light from the setting sun brilliantly glint off of its side before it landed back down into his open palm. Any other day, Jongin would have just handed the loose change to the first homeless person he encountered or walked into a small café to toss it into a tip jar. After all, he already had piles of money from hundreds of commissions, countless gallery showings, and numerous art competitions. This five-cent piece was chump change to a world-class artist like him.

But this time, Jongin took out his thin black wallet from his pants pocket and stuck the Jefferson nickel into the empty coin compartment.

Even though he hadn’t necessarily found the inspiration that he had initially come outside to try to find, the contemplation over the Jefferson nickel had been surprisingly comforting in a bittersweet sort of a way. Jongin didn’t think he had the right to compare himself to the coin he had picked up, but knowing that something else had been struggling just as he was helped him feel less unsure and alone. Silly as it was, Jongin was now emotionally attached to this ordinary nickel.

So he’d try to give himself another chance to travel to his next destination, just as he had with the abandoned coin on the sidewalk.

♈♈♈

A/N: If you're in need of some more reading material, I just finished up the epilogue to my fantasy!AU Kaisoo story called One Wish. Check it out if you'd like! Subscribe, comment, and/or upvote if you're enjoying the story so far! Have a lovely day and see you next time with a brand new chapter!