“I swear, the moment I walked into this relationship – if you can call it that – with Jiyeon is the moment I regretted it, I wanted you back.”

“You were supposed to talk about the patient -”

“Listen to me Sungjong, that’s how I felt,” Myungsoo’s voice was earnest and the look in his eyes was so intense that Sungjong didn’t dare to meet his gaze. “I felt like I lost something, and I still do. And that’s you, only you -”

“I’m not going to listen to this.”

“It was Jiyeon!” Myungsoo screamed out of desperation. His face was contorted with pain and he ran his hand through his hair, looking at Sungjong pleadingly. “She got sick soon after and I took her to the doctor and then she was diagnosed with cancer and – and – I didn’t have the heart to break it to her. She had no one to take care of her and I wanted to help - I took her to so many doctors -”

“I am familiar with the case history, thank you,” Sungjong said stiffly. “I believe you have nothing important to say so I will take my leave now.”

He got to his feet, his knees shaking slightly. He prayed that they wouldn’t give away; he just wanted to walk away from there, leave behind Myungsoo and all those words that were stabbing him like a sharpened sword.

“Sungjong no please…”

A lot of things happened at once, causing the details to be blurred out in Sungjong’s mind. At first, Myungsoo grabbed his wrists, or he was about to grab them, he couldn’t be sure. Almost at the same time, Daehyun, who had come looking for him, slid the door open. There was probably a struggle going on between him and Myungsoo, because Daehyun lurched forward towards them, he heard someone shout, and then he felt a force pushing him backward, causing everything to go black.

The blackness was slowly fading. As he cracked an eye open, he could see the sterile whiteness around him, and other things started to materialize. He smelled antiseptic and a soft mechanical hum seemed to penetrate his ear from far away. Last to take form was a figure hunched over his legs.

“Oh Sungjong, you’re awake.”

It was Daehyun. He came up from the end of the bed Sungjong was lying on, and took his wrist in his palm, checking his pulse.

At the same time, he became aware of a slight throb at the back of his head. He raised his hand to feel the back of his head tentatively, and just as he had feared, he found the roughness of stitches.

“How many?” he asked wincing, as his fingers brushed against the coarse stitches.

Daehyun dropped his hand. “3, nothing serious.”

“What happened?” Sungjong asked groggily. Apart from the dull thumping behind his head, he felt fine, albeit a bit sleepy.

“You fell,” Daehyun said briefly.

Sungjong didn’t know if he wanted to find out more about what had happened. He knew there had been some sort of fight among the three of them and by the looks of it, Daehyun was unharmed. Asking after Myungsoo didn’t seem like a wise decision - Daehyun was still silently fuming; and he couldn’t bring himself to talk about him anyway.

“How’s patient 328?” Sungjong asked instead. He couldn’t bear to speak Jiyeon’s name out aloud.

Daehyun sighed.

“Doing okay for now. I left Jinyoung with her. No signs of hemorrhages, yet. Looks like she might live for now, thanks to you.”

Sungjong heaved a sigh of relief.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“No, you just took the decision. Which counts as something.”

Sungjong sensed that Daehyun had something else to say. He was clenching and unclenching his fist continuously, moving throughout the room impatiently, looking for things to do.

“What is it?” Sungjong asked. Daehyun stopped walking and looked at him straight in the eyes.

“I just – it’s just – how could you let him talk to you, get to you?”

“Daehyun it was nothing. He said he wanted to talk about Jiyeon and I -” Sungjong felt a tear from within choking him up, clogging his airways. He stopped talking and gazed fixedly at the clock hanging from the wall. It was his getaway but the more he tried to forget everything, the more it came back – Myungsoo’s face, his pleading voice, his eyes that had dripped sincerity.

It’s wrong, it’s all wrong – he told himself repeatedly – it wasn’t anything, it meant nothing. He’s dust, dust and lies, that’s all he is.

“I wanted you back,” – Myungsoo’s voice was haunting him here. There was no way he meant any of it…right? He couldn’t have. If he had indeed regretted his decision, if he had wanted him back…

But no, he wouldn’t think about these things, he just couldn’t afford to.

Daehyun had probably gotten a wind of what Sungjong was going through. He pulled the drawer of the bedside table open roughly, and took out a syringe.

“I’ll give you something so that you can sleep. And let this bag run through.”

Sungjong hadn’t noticed before but his left forearm was connected with an IV.

“What th – why do I need this?”

“I found low level of potassium and iron, you aren’t eating properly,” Daehyun said as he injected the syringe into the plastic saline bag, a bit more forcefully than required. His voice was accusatory as if Sungjong was doing it on purpose.

Sungjong groaned.

“You got my blood work done.”

“Good thing I did. Now sleep.”

Daehyun dimmed the lights and left, with a smile and a wink. They looked oddly unnatural.

Sungjong hadn’t realized it before, but he felt very tired. He knew there was work to do, and with Sungyeol gone, he had more responsibilities now but for once, he didn’t feel like pushing himself. He let his eyelids get heavier and didn’t fight off the drowsiness.

Warmth was spreading through him.

It was warmth of a different kind, it was more of a fuzziness, contentment pooling in his stomach, originating from the tips of his fingers. He felt so good; he felt light and he felt that everything was alright as the feeling took over him. He opened his eyes, resisting the gluey feeling between his lids. He had to take a look at whatever was filling him with the warm sensation. He tried to focus, but the figure that was sitting beside his bed was only a blurry outline to him.

He tried harder.

At first he thought it was Prof. Jaejoong, his former teacher; the figure had similar well-kept black hair and, even though he couldn’t be sure about it, piercing black eyes. Sungjong’s hand was sandwiched between the two of his, and that was producing the relieving sensation through his body.

A memory stirred right beyond his eyelids – it seemed like a lifetime away – but there it was again, flickering just a hand away…

“You don’t have to stay. Go. Besides, I’m a doctor. I can take care of myself.”

A shadow fell deeply into his eyes.

“How can I? Plus, I’m your greatest cure.”

The shadow wrapped his hands around his.

“Yeah, right.”

The shadow pressed his lips onto his fingertips.

“Yes, see, you’re getting better.”

Better.

Warmer.

Warmer.

“W-what are you doing here?” Sungjong could barely speak. He wasn’t even sure Myungsoo had heard him, but the way his eyes flicked open and his neck jerked up could only mean he had.

“You – you woke up. I thought you had been drugged.”

The feeling was strange. Sungjong’s heart started to expand and then shrink. It was too real and yet, he was sure he wasn't fully conscious.

“You-you shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. He hated the weakness in his voice, as if he almost didn’t agree with what he was saying.

“No, I shouldn’t, should I?” Myungsoo muttered softly, but as he spoke, his hand gently caressed Sungjong’s hair. “I wish that was enough to stop me.”

It seemed like the elder was speaking more to himself than to Sungjong – he wasn’t making much sense anyway. As for Sungjong, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted Myungsoo to leave, but he also wanted the warmth to stay.

‘What gives you the right?’ - he wanted to ask, but he would probably just get a blank look in reply.

“You can go to sleep now, I’ll be here.” Myungsoo said like it was supposed to relieve him or something, but it did just the opposite.

“Go away, I don’t need you.”

I never needed you. Except maybe just … every day of my pitiful existence. Every day when you weren’t there for me. Every day that I spent alone, weeping into your pillow.

“But I need you, Sungjong.”

He wanted to laugh because really, of all the things he could say, Myungsoo said something so preposterous. The day he had walked out of his house was the day he had proved he had not needed him. He hadn’t needed to see him, or hear his voice, or hold his hand. He didn’t need to be a part of his life.

“Liar!”

“I’m a bad liar, you know that.”

“Yes, yes you are.”

He felt tired and drowsy, and even though he fought the feelings, something stronger overcame him – resignation. He had had enough. He wanted to feel normal again, be normal again, so that his heart didn’t explode with new sensations, so that he could forget everything, so that he could give up.

He wanted to give up, in one way or the other.

He was too tired for all this.