“David! What have you brought to this house?!”

My fiancé’s mother’s shrill voice rang out through the house, her face reflecting a horror that wouldn't have looked out of place in a scary movie. Her disgust was evident and because she was looking right at me, I was feeling more than a little insulted. I tried to keep my face together even as David’s own fell into a grimace.

“Mom, I told you Noelle was coming here today. Can you stop with the theatrics?” he asked pleadingly.

“Theatrics?! You brought one of them into this house; you know better,” she said with a quick shake of her head, her tone sharp as knives.

David's eyes shot towards me in embarrassment and I can see the red of his blush on his tan skin, the color spreading out from his cheeks and onto his ears and neck.

“Mom please, I told you Noelle wasn't like us. You know I did.”

“I thought you meant a white girl,” his mom fumes. “I've never heard one of them having such a proper name. They're usually Latoya's or Tisha's or something altogether ridiculous.”

“If you give me a second, I can explain, just stop yelling,” David said with irritation clear in his voice. He pulled his right hand through his hair, a clear sign he was about to lose it. But whether his mom didn’t see it or she didn’t care one thing was clear; she was far from done.

“What will the neighbors think? How could you have disrespected me like this David? I thought I raised you better than for you want this,” she waved at me with her hand encompassing everything that I was in that one quick swipe and dismissing me as unworthy all in the same motion.  

I couldn't move, stunned and shocked by this woman's display. I didn't know her, she damn sure didn't know me, but why did I feel like I suddenly needed to defend myself. My ears felt like they were ringing as my own anger and embarrassment rose in time with David’s mother’s volume.

“You know these people never really amount to anything, David. I can't believe you thought bringing her here would change my mind.”

“Mom, Noelle isn't like that honestly. You're being ridiculous.”

“I can't believe you said you want to marry her! Just look at her, what will your children look like? She is not for you David. Get her out of my house.” The older woman stomped her feet, her face pulled into a tight frown that said resistance was futile. 

David continued to speak but all of a sudden I could move again, so I did quickly before my rage set in and I snatched his mother bald.

I didn't speak as I left out the front door, a short walk since we had barely entered the foyer before his mother had begun her insults. David's voice called to me as I hit the pavement but I ignored it, still not wanting to feel the anger I knew was coming. The car doors were still thankfully open and I took my seat, waiting for David to come inside. He took longer than I thought that he should’ve given the circumstances and the wait seemed interminable.

“Noelle I'm so sorry. My mom is old school; she doesn't mean to come off as racist. It's just the culture- “

“Culture?” I raise my eyebrows at him in incredulity. “That in there wasn't just culture talking David. She hated me on sight just because of what I looked like. I can't even begin to count the ways of how much you ed this up. Why didn't you tell her about me?”

“I knew she'd tell me to break it off Noelle, and I didn't want to let you go.”

“So you lied and said I was white? You let her believe a lie because I wasn't good enough?” Even though I hadn’t wanted it to, my voice rose and broke as I pushed the words past a clogged throat.

“I never said you were white. She just assumed and I let her… What else could I do Noelle?”

Hot tears pricked at my eyes at his words, his defeated expression making me angry beyond anything I'd ever felt before.

“You said you loved me David, so you should have loved me. You could've told her the truth and made her listen. You should’ve said that you would be with me no matter what. You're supposed to take on everything she throws at you and come back for more because we love each other. That's what people who love each other do.”

David’s face crumpled in anger at my words, his scowl fiercer than I’d ever seen it before. “Oh my God, that’s it! I get people looking at us funny every time we go somewhere. I hear from my friends about us whenever we hang out. Telling me that I just like the novelty of what we are. Telling me that I should settle with a nice Asian girl. I couldn't hear that crap from my mom too. Noelle believe me, I care about you-. “

“You care? If that was caring, I'd like to see what hating me looked like. You didn't stand up for me, you barely got a word in edgewise as she tore me to pieces.”

“Life isn't like those books you read Noelle. This isn't ing Romeo and Juliet. Real life is that love doesn't conquer everything, that it won't make people stop hating others just because a few people stand up. I'm not a hero, ok? I'm just a guy that loves you and was a coward. Look, I know this was crazy and I'm sorry I brought you into this. Let me make it up to you.”

Suddenly the loud buzzing that’d I’d heard in my head for the last ten minutes was gone and I underwent a feeling of complete clarity. I sensed my subconscious begin to shut down the part of me that loved David, felt it narrow down to tiny a pinprick so that what I was about to say wouldn't crush my whole life, even though it felt that way.

“No, you can't make it up to me. Get out of the car.”

“What? Noelle what are you talking about. I'm not getting out.”

“Get out of the car David. We're done.” My voice was calm and icy, so unlike my usual self. But this was necessary, I could feel it more plainly than I had ever felt anything before.

“Noelle you just can't end us. We've been together for three years, we’re engaged. There's no calling it quits. I can talk to my mom and we can work this out.”

He reaches for me but I pull away, backing myself into the corner of the car. I tug on the white gold band that encircles my ring finger, the diamond winking up at me as it finally comes loose. I drop it into David's palm and he stares at it for what seems like forever. Back and forth, from me to the ring and then finally to his house, David sits there just looking. I hold my breath, hoping against hope that he'll take my hand and put the ring back on it. That we'll go back into his mom’s house and he'll tell her to accept me no matter what because he loves me. That eventually she'll see the light and come to love me like a daughter. I see it all play out in front of me like the best of stories, with love being the one thing that makes change possible.

But David gets out of the driver’s seat in real life. He doesn't grab my hand but walks into the house alone. And I turn the car on and drive off, leaving him behind. The tears don't come until I'm back at my apartment in the city, underneath the covers with all the lights turned off. And I tell myself that I don't feel anything as wetness runs down my cheeks. I tell myself that it wasn't true love because that's not the way love works. I tell myself that one day I'll have everything I've ever wanted and more. I tell myself that I'll get my happy ending.

Four months later

I breathed out deeply as the automatic doors of Brooklyn Center Hospital slid open and allowed me to escape. I felt dead on my feet, not so much because work had been more demanding than usual, but because it had been mentally taxing. I had known in the back of my mind that working in oncology would require much more internal strength when dealing with patients but I could admit to myself that maybe I had bit off more than I could chew. 

A little girl had died today during my shift, and I had been in charge of her daily care. She had been the sweetest thing, all light and sunshine even while chemotherapy had made her waste away in her too large bed. In just a few hours she had ceased to exist and I was changing out her bedsheets in preparation for another new patient. The worst thing about it was that death was almost the norm in oncology. Most of the patients were suffering from last stage cancer or had relapsed after beating cancer once. My relapse patients gave up rather quickly, believing that they couldn't beat the cancer twice, the others never gave up until it was too late. Either way death was surrounding me each and every day, draining my spirit. It was heartbreaking to witness, to have to administer a cure that was at times worse than the illness. I was starting to wonder if going back to the ER would be better for me.

The hours would be much longer, but I'd have a peace of mind knowing that my immediate care of patients brought results. It would be better than watching children die when there was nothing I could do to save them. I was thinking these things and more as I walked home instead of taking a taxi like I usually did this late at night. The cold air blew past me and I zipped up my jacket all the way to my throat, irritated that I hadn’t worn something warmer. I thought lazily of all the sweaters that would soon be available in stores, as well as boots to match. Fall was definitely one of my favorite seasons and I inhaled the cold air, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders.

My meditative quiet was interrupted when I heard nearby sounds of grunting and yelling and thoughts of recent gang violence in this area made me stiffen up in fear. A loud yelp of pain made up my mind for me, and I ran instead toward the noise, needing to know what was going on. The lighting was dimmer along the side street I went down, darkness obscuring my vision, but from what I could tell, it looked as though a teenager was getting mugged. I took a step forward, ready to help when I saw him hit the mugger once and then twice, his baggy sleeves falling past his hands as he punched.

But another man came up behind the teen in the dark, his large body grabbing hold of the much smaller one and putting him in a choke hold. Thoughts of leaving the boy to his own devices fled out the window and I ran further down the street. Willing my voice not to shake, I stepped into the light of the streetlamp and pulled out my phone.

“I'm calling the cops, you bastards!” I yelled toward both the men, my phone held to my ear.

The first man scrambled up from his spot on the ground and began to plead with the other to leave. At his partner’s refusal, he fled by himself with no hesitation, a wallet held tight in his hand. The second mugger stared at me long and hard, his expression hidden in the shadows but his meaning clear. He wasn’t leaving and he was still choking the life out of that kid.

Determination spread through me and I pretended to be speaking to dispatch, telling them the address and giving them the large man’s description. With a growl, he finally let go of the now unconscious boy, his body falling to the cement like a sack of potatoes. The big man ran after his cohort off into the night and I let out a shaking sigh of relief.

I made my way quickly to the teen, fear making my heart skip in my chest. Not another one, I thought to myself. He was sprawled across the pavement and I kneeled down to get close. My hand trembled as I felt for his pulse, and I whispered a prayer of thanks under my breath when I felt the reassuring thump running through his neck. With a gasp the youth came back to his senses, his eyes opening wide when he saw me.

“Are you ok? Let me help you sit up.”

He let out a hiss as I grabbed his left arm and I immediately relaxed my grip.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Can you get up by yourself?”

With a slight nod, the kid raised himself up on his elbows. But a good look at the person in front of me gave me a shock; I had been wrong. Those men must have been taller than I'd first assumed because the person wearing a large dog on his sweater was no teenager. It was a man, albeit a short one. Feeling especially bad that I had thought he was a child, I tried to be courteous as I helped the guy to his feet.

“Come on, my apartment is only a few blocks that way. I can fix you up there.”

“My home isn't far either, only two blocks that way,” the man says pointing to the left. I was still drained from work and I didn't want to push him.

“Ok, that might be better. Do you have a medical kit at your place?”

He shakes his head no and then with a groan grabs at it comically. As he curses under his breath I feel a smile come to my lips. Maybe working in a hospital has desensitized me to other people's pain, but he's making me laugh when just a half hour ago I wouldn't have thought it possible.

“Alright then, my place it is.”

As we begin to walk, the man lists slightly to the right and I decide to test his cognitive responses, worried he may have a concussion.

“So what's your name?”

“Jonghyun Kim,” he says quickly. “I should've said it earlier but thank you for helping me.”

I wave my hand at him, feeling embarrassed because I almost hadn't.

“It's nothing. So Mr. Kim, do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah, I was just waking home when some guy pushed me into a wall. He stole my phone and my wallet and when I tried to get it back, his partner jumped me.”

I my teeth, feeling bad that he’d been accosted in such a way.

“I'm so sorry that happened to you. Do you feel any lightheadedness or dizziness?”

“No, I'm fine but my head does hurt.”

“That's because your bleeding,” I point out to him. “Ah, we're here.”

I punch in the passcode to open the front doors of my building and with a creak the glass doors open.

“My place is only on the second floor, so let's just take the stairs.”

Even though he whines about taking the elevator, I force him to the stairs, curious to see whether his balance is steady. He doesn't seem to be suffering from any of the normal symptoms and I dismiss a concussion from my mind.

“This is it,” I say stopping in front of a plain grey metal door that looks just like the other five on this floor.

“It's really nice, I like how you've decorated the place,” he says with a smile.

“You're very witty Mr. Kim,” I deadpan as I unlock the front door.

I usher him in and throw down my purse and jacket on to the couch.

“Sit on one of the stools at the bar. I'll go get the kit.”

He obediently takes a seat and looks around my space as if he's trying to soak it all in. Too bad for him that there isn't much to see.

A soft meow at my feet makes me look down and I see my cat Louie. He runs his body around my legs and after letting out a purr walks away. My welcome home over, I find the medical supplies and bring them back into the living room.

Louie has taken up residence in Jonghyun's lap and I laugh at the needy cat.

“Don't pet him too much or he'll never let you leave.”

Jonghyun sends me a smile but continues to indulge my cat, making the fiend purr in time with his soft . And for some reason I feel sort of jealous. I snap on my plastic gloves and get the stitches, trying to focus on the task at hand.  

“Your place looks like the inside of a magazine. Everything matches so well, you really did do a good job.”

“I'm glad you like it. I just bought everything that was in the magazine picture and had the movers set it up.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say while dabbing an alcohol swab at the gash on the side of his head, cleaning up the blood that’s trailed down his neck. “I'm not very good at decorating things. It was easier just to buy the design.”

“But it's not very personal,” he hisses as I puncture his skin with the needle for his first stitch.

“It's very personal. I love grey and white. And the little pops of pink were my choice. And then there's the radio.”

“You mean that massive thing in the corner.”

“Yep, that's my baby.” I tie up the last stitch and clean the wound one more time with some alcohol. I fold a piece of gauze into a square and tape it down over his head.

“So Mr. Kim-"

“Jonghyun,” he cuts in.

“What?”

“I'd like for you to call me Jonghyun, not Mr. Kim.”

His voice has become soft and smooth all of a sudden, and I glance up from packing away the medical kit. For the first time I truly look at Jonghyun and not in the clinical way that I've been examining him since we've met. I take note of his hair first, the blonde of it so white that it looks silver. With only the sides cut and the top worn long enough to have bangs covering his forehead, it gives his soft face a decidedly masculine look. And it's necessary because besides the angular jawline, the rest of Jonghyun is so delicate that he can easily be called pretty. A fluttering deep in my stomach begins the longer I looked at him and turn away from the deep brown eyes that are trying to capture me. I let out a little cough and try to become a professional again.

“Mr. Kim, you'll feel some tenderness around your head wound for maybe a week. The cut wasn't too deep but make sure you change out the gauze and keep it clean. The stitches will dissolve on their own in a few days.”

I slip off my plastic gloves and throw all the used items in a plastic bag of their own. After washing my hands in the kitchen sink, I walk back out into the living room. Jonghyun still hasn't moved from his spot on my barstool.

“Well, if you're feeling ok, then you should be good to go home.” I phrased it like a question but inside I wanted him to go so that I could die from exhaustion in peace.

“Thank you so much for helping me. I'm very grateful.” He looks as though he wants to say more, but nothing comes to him and the moment passes. 

He gave me a slight bow and I inclined my head back to him in return. I walked him to the door and closed it firmly behind him, trying with everything in me to not think of how soft his hair would be in my hands or if Jonghyun would touch me as gently as he'd touched Louie. What did he have that called to me so immediately, that made me want to imagine what it would be like to be in his arms? I didn’t want to feel things like this again, I had only just begun to mend myself after David. So it was going to be a long night of pushing Jonghyun Kim out of my head.

GEEZ, did I really write so much?! That chapter was hella long but I hope you guys enjoyed it. I find that I really miss Jonghyun's silver and blonde hair so that's what he'll have during this story. I'm gonna try to have as many gifs as possible with it too \(><)/. But as always thank you guys for continuing with the story and I will try my utmost with this story to have timely updates. Please remember to Upvote, Subscribe and post Comments! I LOVE hearing from you guys (btw isn't 1of1 amazing!!) Love you <3!