Days have always felt like they spun past very quickly for someone who worked indoor, who was constantly deprived from the sunlight inside the dimly-lit surgery room, especially during a hectic week where the only time to peacefully catch some breath in between was the toilet break. A lot of surgeons spent 13 to 16 hours of their day operating on a patient which meant an anaesthesiologist like Huisoo would also stick around that long. Three meals were taken in the hospital cafetaria or occasionally by having takeout food delivered to them. That, if she were lucky enough to eat three meals a day, but it was not that bad, really.

Dysmenorrhea was worse. In her case, there had not been any cure that did not result in less bleeding, like ibuprofen, or pain-relievers that only worked for a few hours before the effect wore down and cramps started to pitch in again. And as a doctor herself, she knew better than to keep relying on drugs for her comfort. Since she started studying medicine in college, Huisoo had always relied heavily on heating patches for menstrual cramps.

Besides Hayoung and her family, only few people closest to her were aware of this specific state of hers. It was not difficult to notice the look on her face everytime she was on one of those 'shark weeks'  as she called it. But she settled on saying 'just a cramp' (while she could feel her insides shredded painfully) to the nurse staffs or a few seniors whom she was not very close with on personal basis whenever they asked and never tried to elaborate more because her co-workers should not be bothered with the tortorous cycle although they were well-taught on the subject. In the imperfect growth of her mind she established that, menstrual cramps had become something that she should live with; like a tattoo or three meals a day.

She also had stopped making a fuss about it because it did not help much. Not many people could relate to this kind of pain, not even Hayoung, of whom Huisoo always envied for not having to experience the monthly torture. When it came to sweet cravings, Hayoung got it; also experienced the same constant need of cold beverages like Huisoo did. But the abdominal cramps pulsating through her lower back to her pelvic area was something Hayoung or even her own mother found difficult to relate to.

In Jongin's case and what she was sure was the briefest, most awkward visit she had ever received from someone, it had come as a hell of surprise even in her half-dazed state of enduring the sharp pain all over her lower abdomen and back that she almost... almost forgot it hurt at all. She remembered how she sat up right immediately and leaned back to the headrest of her bed as he was moving closer.

           “Are you comfortable?” He had asked as soon as he was settled on the foot of her bed, careful about leaving plenty of safe distance between them. 

Whether it was a question to ask if she was okay with him around or to ask about her general condition, she had no idea, but she responded to him with an assuring hum, being on the verge of physical numbness, speech was almost impossible.

But Jongin did not need to know that.

It was also clear from the way he tried to hide away his fidgets, eyes everywhere but on her, he had been the one with a discomfort. Into the first few minutes of his little intrusion, she noticed he had not tried to chance a glance. He dared not to make direct eye contact although his body was turned slightly at her direction. He was in a sky-blue dress shirt and cream trousers, suit jacket off. Also he was wearing a pair of familiar home slippers from the shoerack downstairs. A pleasant delight traced through the line of her limp frame. He felt more familiar and homelike.

           “Here's, umm, heating patches. Doctor Oh dropped by to pass them.” He then said while he bent over to set down the box of cramps patches on her nightpost.

           “He's here?”

Something pulsed in him when catching a hint of surprise in her tone.

          “A while ago, just dropping.” He answered, quite annoyed by the fact that she had not even said a monosyllabic word to answer his first question which he put so much thoughts on, but could manage to almost jump in panic thinking about the possibility of her male co-worker in her space. 

           “Oh, right. Thank you.” She was calm, so alarmingly calm.

A few beats of silence surfaced, so Huisoo decided it was safe to take a careful look at his clueless expression. He was unaware of this for about a few seconds before he turned his head slightly and their eyes met, to which Huisoo panicked, then glanced away quickly, praying he did not catch her studying him.

Unbothered, Jongin stretched his back, crossed his leg, and wrapped his hands around one knee, frowning upon the detachment in her voice. He thought, maybe the physical pain she was experiencing had made her short with her responses. Because although he had not been too familiar with Huisoo's personality traits as grown adult, they were well-acquintanced enough for him to tell when she was definitely being less friendly than she was. The woman wore her emotion on her sleeves and spoke fondness. Distant was definitely not her language.

He was plotting his next move when he caught the sight of her reaching out for a thick pack of wet wipes on her nightstand with one hand, another was clutching her stomach, rubbing vigorously. His brows rose at the view. So much for being comfortable.

He was not sure if he should get her written permission to stare, but he concluded this was a different sight of Huisoo. Her hair was a mess, unbound and tumbling down her back; her face more greasy than usual, but as soon as she finished rubbing her face clean with two sheets of wet wipes, her poise returned.

It was an unfamiliar sight and situation to being shared this very private view of somebody in all her plain demeanor. The fact that she did not look bothered doing all that with him in her space oddly pleased him. It was either a sign of feeling safe or that his presence there did not really matter.

Jonginwas so focused on her that he noticed not only how many she used, but also the long line of her neck when it one side as she threw the used sheets into a small bin just below her bed and put the thick pack of wet wipes back to the nightstand.

A bit too late, but, he pushed the image away.

           “I should get going.” Said he, getting up from her bed; at the same time she asked, “Did you enjoy dinner?”

He had no idea what he was expecting from visiting her. He knew her health was not his concern, and he learned that menstrual cramps were easily-treated symptoms but even if not, it was not even deadly. Also, she did not look too happy with him being around, so he figured, it was best to step out.

           “Uh, yes, thanks for ordering the chicken.” He winged with his response and winded his gaze away.

           “Yeah, my parents didn't want you to starve, so,” An attempt for a joke, she trailed, then winced quietly as a sharp pain surging in her abdomen, “Just doing what they asked me to do.”

But, to this, he pulled back, nearly flinched. She was at it again; playing detachment.

           “Ha, right.” He said after a few beats, setting his eyes away from her to the ceiling. Something tugged on his chest and a realisation formed in his head.

This was a similar impression that he gave away a few nights back during the drive to the hospital: It's not for your sake. You're not exceptional.

A pained expression flickered across his face.

          “Honestly, I've no idea what line we both are trying to thread in here, but I understand we mig