Lee Eunsook, disheveled and clad in just a coat thrown on top of her old college org shirt and pajama pants, clutched her four year old son close to herself as she rushed to reach the nurse’s desk. It was two in the morning and the only nurse present on the nurse’s station was a lanky faux blonde with sharp feline-like eyes and bow-shaped lips, who was furiously scribbling down on a notebook. He was obviously Korean and Eunsook almost stopped herself from asking for his help. However, Minki, her son, started whining softly in his fitful sleep—effectively pushing Eunsook’s wounded pride to the back of her mind. He was more important than Eunsook’s pride.

“Excuse me,” Eunsook started, earning the undivided attention of the nurse. “My s-son…he’s sick. He’s been vomiting a lot since yesterday afternoon and I thought it was just something that he ate. But then, he got down with a fever last night—“

The nurse held up a hand and stepped out of his desk to approach Eunsook. He smiled kindly at her, a dimple making its appearance on the young man’s right cheek. “Let’s go and have our present pediatrician have a look at him.”

The pediatrician was a round man with graying hair and a gentle smile that lifted his sagging cheeks up. On his desk were several picture frames, each one with him, a smiling woman and a dark-haired girl featured in it. His name was on a rectangular chunk of polished wood, proud and bold on the center: Dr. Claude S. Miller M.D.

Eunsook fidgeted beside him as he checked up on Minki, listening to the little boy’s heartbeat and then taking his temperature with a few note-taking in between. He also called the nurse from earlier a few times, in each one, the young man was asked to bring or schedule something.

It was around 3:30 in the morning, a solid hour and a half after Eunsook had brought her son in, that Minki was diagnosed with flu and dehydration. He was confined to the pediatric ward, room 402. He was hooked up to a saline drip and for the first time since yesterday, he was peacefully sleeping.

Eunsook sighed in relief, holding her son’s little hand in hers, when a soft knock ruptured the deafening silence of the room. She craned her neck to the side in time to see the doorknob turn and then for a familiar face to peek in and smile at her. The blonde nurse, seeing that he was allowed to enter, stepped quietly inside the room. He closed the door behind him and approached Eunsook.

“Here,” he said, passing a cup of steaming coffee in front of Eunsook. “I wasn’t sure how you preferred your coffee so I took the liberty to put in a spoon of cream and two sugars. I hope you don’t mind.”

Eunsook smiled, blowing on the coffee before taking a sip. The hot liquid warmed her insides, especially her heart. “Thanks. That is exactly how I want my coffee,” she said sincerely.

“It’s how most people want their coffee too,” the man grinned. He approached Minki and carefully fluffed up the pillow behind his head. “I’m Key…or do you want to know my real name? The Korean one?”

With a pause, Eunsook lowered the cup of coffee. This young nurse sure knew how to go straight for the kill. “Thank you for all the help, Key.”

Key eyed Eunsook thoughtfully before he reached up to check Minki’s dextrose. “It’s Kim Kibum. What’s your name, noona?”

The honorific awakened something deep inside Eunsook, a feeling that she had tucked away in the very corner of herself, not forgotten but merely suppressed. Hearing Kibum call her noona felt like the past was suddenly back, knocking on the door of her heart and mind, asking to be let in once again, to be remembered. Her shoulders tensed while her hands closed tightly around the cup, some of the liquid spilling onto her pajama pants.

“Emma,” she murmured. The English name, which was known by only a handful of people, felt foreign on her tongue even after years of using it.

Kibum’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and disbelief but he said nothing more until he finished checking up on Minki and handed a blanket to Eunsook. “Get some rest, noona. I’ll see you in the morning…well, more like later, but whatever.”

With Kibum gone, Eunsook finally allowed herself to press a relieved smile onto Minki’s cheek as she kissed him. Afterwards, she laid her head beside her son’s tiny body and closed her eyes, ready to catch some much needed sleep.

*

Choi Minho hummed lightly under his breath as he washed his hands thoroughly, making sure to scrub under his fingernails. It was the start of his shift and today he was feeling extra excited because he was assigned to his favorite part of the hospital—the pediatric ward. Taking a wad of paper towel, he turned the faucet off, threw them and got another wad to dry his hands. Afterwards, he checked himself on the mirror, smoothing his bright blue scrubs down and practicing his smile. Sure that he looked fine and friendly enough, he exited the small washroom. He headed straight to the nurse’s desk just in time to see, his roommate and friend, Kibum, off.

“I saved you some of last night’s dinner,” Minho told the yawning blonde. “It’s in the fridge, just heat it up. Also, there’s still coffee in the pot, if you want some.”

Kibum smiled and collected his things. “Yes, mother. I think I’ll settle for a warm glass of milk, though. The mere thought of coffee slithering down my throat—again, mind you—makes me feel sick.”

Just then, a doctor passed by. He was tall (taller against Minho by a couple of inches), ivory-skinned, with a head of light brown hair and a pair of wide, blue eyes. He paused behind Minho, clapping a friendly hand on his back, but the strict expression on his face was anything but amicable. “Minho,” he started, the name rolling off of his tongue with a thick English accent. “Speaking in Korean again, huh? I thought the hospital rules and regulations made it clear to only speak in English during your shift?”

Kibum rolled his eyes at that, speaking in flawless English this time, “Dr. Davis, my shift is over. It ended for almost fifteen minutes already.”

The doctor nodded and removed his hand from where it still rested on Minho’s shoulder. “Very well,” he said before sending them one last stern look and then hurrying off to where he was supposed to go.

“Stupid,” Kibum grumbled in his native tongue, making Minho laugh.

“Hey, stop it. For all we know, that guy has biologic ears,” Minho chided lightly, speaking in English now just to make sure. He leaned over the counter and pulled his own clipboard out. It was painted a bright yellow with different animal stickers stuck onto it. “He might hear you from where he is right now. Plus, he’s a cardiologist. I’m sure he’s far from stupid.”

Laughter bubbled out of Kibum way before his retort did. “It’s bionic ears, Minho, not biologic.” When he had calmed down enough, he nudged a flustered Minho out of the way and journeyed to the nurse lounge. “See you at home, later.”

Two years ago was when Minho set foot on the land of the most powerful country, United States of America, specifically in New York. He was a registered nurse by then, fresh-faced and eager to start anew, have a taste of the famed western culture, maybe also make a name for himself in the medical field before continuing his studies to be a pediatrician and ultimately distract himself from the depression that pestered him.

Minho was a hard worker, often praised by his superiors, and it was all because he wanted to forget the past that continuously haunted him. He worked way past his shifts and on his off days, he took up volunteer work, wheeling food carts into rooms and sometimes helping the hospital’s cook in making them. Every single thing that he did was a welcome distraction and soon enough, the memory and pain of being left alone so suddenly was pushed to the back of his mind, where it no longer made him feel like a worthless excuse of a human being.

“Oh, we have a new patient?” Minho smiled to himself as he tucked his clipboard underneath his arm and knocked lightly on the door. There was a muffled ‘Come in!’ only seconds after. Minho pushed the door open, stepped inside the room and looked around. In the hospital bed, he saw a little boy, who was looking curiously at him. He was about to wonder where the boy’s parents were when he heard the sound of running water coming from the small bathroom inside.

“Hi, little one,” he greeted warmly as he discreetly checked the patient’s name on his clipboard. One of Minho’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he read the name that was written on the sheet of paper. He was sure that the little boy was Korean like him. “You’re Michael? Lee Michael?”

The boy made a face that Minho was strangely reminded of himself—of course, with a few alterations here and there. Minho couldn’t shake the feeling that as he continued gazing at the boy it was like he was looking at himself into a mirror. The face that stared back at him had a pair of big, chocolate brown orbs, a hooked nose and a pair of lips that looked unnervingly familiar. “I don’t like that name,” the boy mumbled. “It’s hard to s-say.”

Minho was suddenly snapped out of his scrutiny and chuckled. “You’ll get used to it, Michael,” he started and then leaned forward, cupping a hand against the boy’s ear as if to whisper a big secret. “If it makes you feel any better, my name is Minho. Weird name, right?”

Instead of another scrunched nose just as Minho expected, what he witnessed was the boy’s gloomy expression melting into a bright and excited one. “Really?” the boy parroted, now beaming at Minho. “At home, my mommy calls me—“

“Minki baby? What’s going on here?” a soft feminine (and achingly familiar, Minho mused) voice interrupted just as the door to the bathroom swung open. Minho looked up, noticing that the woman spoke in Korean. A second later, a figure emerged out of the open door, yawning.

Minho’s jaw dropped when his eyes met that same old gentle ones of his best friend. “Eunsook.”

“Minho,” Eunsook gasped.

*

The shock of seeing Minho again was enough to turn Eunsook’s legs into jelly and she had to press a hand against the wall to prevent herself from dropping to her knees in front of him. Beside her friend, she saw her son’s face contort into a look of sheer confusion. Eunsook took a deep breath to compose herself and crossed the room to gather Minki into her arms, soothing him.

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Umma?” Minki mumbled into her shirt. Eunsook winced. “Mr. Minho knows your n-name…do you k-know him?”

Eunsook forced herself not to look up and see Minho’s reaction as she answered. Instead, she focused on her son, pressing a kiss on top of his head. “He’s my…friend. Back in Korea. You remember that place, right? It was where mommy was born.”

Minki nodded.

It seemed like Minho had recovered himself as well because at the next second, he quietly crept to the other side of the bed and was checking on Minki’s IV drip. He jotted down something on his clipboard before clearing his throat. “I need to check Michael’s temperature,” he told Eunsook, traces of his warm, cheerful voice—the one that Eunsook came to brand as her best friend’s—gone and replaced by professionalism.

Eunsook reluctantly let go of her son and helped him to lie down, smoothing his hair back.

“Open your mouth, Michael,” Minho murmured warmly to Minki, deciding that the boy shouldn’t be involved in his anger toward Eunsook. He smiled when Minki obediently opened his mouth. He placed the thermometer in after making sure it was set right. Five minutes after (enough time for Minho to have finished listening to the boy’s breathing and heartbeat), a beep sounded from the thermometer. Minho took the device out of Minki’s mouth, checked the temperature that it registered and wrote it down onto his clipboard.

“His temperature has gone down a bit. It’s a good sign,” Minho informed Eunsook, all the while keeping his gaze out of her face. He was afraid that if he saw her face again—the pouty lips or the expressive eyes—it’ll come through him, break down his walls. Just like that he will bear his heart, once again, in front of the one person who swore to never leave him, but broke the promise all the same, just like all the others. He wouldn’t allow it. Not yet, at least. “Dr. Miller will be with you shortly to check up on him again.”

“Thank you,” Eunsook said softly, grateful, before adding, “Minho.”

Minho grunted in acknowledgement, ruffled Minki’s hair fondly and then exited the room. Outside, he released a loud exhale and all but ran towards the nurse’s desk. Those fifteen minutes were among the hardest ones that he had to go through. Not only did Minho’s long buried feelings of anger, pain and longing towards Eunsook were reawakened, but a flood of questions also threatened to make him explode.

How long has she been here in America?

What was she doing here in the first place?

Was she married?

If so, how long has she been married?

Who was Minki’s father?

Did she have another child?

And most importantly…

What was her reason for leaving him so suddenly?

Groaning, Minho plopped down on top of a chair and cradled his head in between his hands. He massaged his temples, willing himself not to cry. To be quite honest, his very first instinct when he caught sight of Eunsook earlier was to run to her, gather her in his arms and just cling to her, feel her solid and warm and real. To reassure himself that it was really Eunsook, his best friend, tangible and not just a part of the many tricks that his mind often liked to play against him. But, he couldn’t do those things. Well, not yet at least. First, they needed to have a talk; a long and truthful one.

“Good morning!” a chipper voice sounded in front of him and Minho didn’t need to look up to see the wide grin that accompanied that greeting. He knew it was Lee Taeyeon, a fellow nurse of his that was, apparently, assigned to this shift as well. He liked her. Sure, she was too energetic for his tastes and that anyone foolish enough to put the two of them together (in their best of moods) in a shift would definitely result in a non-conducive to healing environment, but he couldn’t deny that she was good company.

Of course, that little tidbit only applied to days that didn’t include one Lee Eunsook into its ‘people to bump into at work’ list.

Minho sighed heavily. “Nothing is going ‘good’ this morning.”

Surprised at Minho’s obvious distress, Taeyeon’s eyebrows furrowed, confused and worried. “Is your coffee maker broken again, oppa?”

If not for Eunsook’s face behind his eyelids, haunting him, Minho would have laughed at that. “No.”

“Do you want me to get you some coffee then? Not at the employee lounge, but at the café downstairs. I’ll even get your favorite.”

Touched, Minho politely shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, Taeyeon-ah. Our coffee maker at home is working perfectly. It’s just…today is…one of those days, you know?”

“Ah.”

“Yes.”

Taeyeon nodded sympathetically, as if she knew that it just wasn’t one of those days, patting Minho’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, oppa. Everything will work out just fine, you’ll see.” Then, she picked up her clipboard—lilac with floral stickers—before walking away from the nurse’s station to check up on her patients.

Minho lifted his head, catching Taeyeon as she disappeared inside a room. He shook his head and decided to continue making his rounds to somehow get Eunsook and her son’s face off of his mind. He greeted his patients with warm smiles and kind encouragements, focusing all of his thoughts and energy somewhere else. It didn’t work, though, because as Minho worked through his morning, he was subjected to various memories of his and Eunsook’s times together. They were being played with the clarity of a high-definition video, every single detail painted vividly across Minho’s mind. And as his shift trickled down towards his break, instead of forgetting, Minho was left feeling even more weighed down as the clock proceeded to push the time forward.

During his lunch break, Minho’s mind was made up; he will talk to Eunsook—right now. Not later. Not tonight when his shift ends. Now. Minho was pretty sure that any time other than that will result in him losing his sanity. Never mind that his timing was a little bit off, well okay more than off, with Eunsook in her son’s room, looking over the sweet little boy as he recovered.

“Everything will work out just fine, you’ll see,” Minho repeated Taeyeon’s words earlier in a mumble, encouraging himself as he stood rigid in front of room 402. He raised his hand to knock on the door when it swung open, Eunsook freezing and gaping at him from the other side. Hungrily, Minho took in her face, drinking everything in the span of a minute. She was still beautiful, actually more so than four years ago. It was as if she stopped aging at 20, retaining that youthful face but with a tiny hint of sharpness that wasn’t too overpowering. Her eyes were still the same, bright and gentle, while her lips still looked plump and perpetually soft as ever. Alongside her face, her body remained the same even if she had had Minki—pleasingly curvy with a tiny waist, ample s and skin that seemed to glow.

“Umm, h-hi,” Eunsook greeted, voice hushed seeing as Minki was sleeping soundly. She was sure that this confrontation would not take place until tomorrow, after all she knew her friend well. Or so she thought she knew him. Quietly, she closed the door behind her, ducking under Minho’s towering frame afterwards so she could transfer to the other side of the hallway, where the space was bigger. Call it instinctive, but the first thought that ran through Eunsook’s head was to explain. “I was getting hungry so I waited for Minki to fall asleep before I sneak out to buy some lunch downstairs at the cafeteria. I mean, I don’t exactly know if there is a cafeteria downstairs or anything. I haven’t seen the whole place and well, maybe there is. You know how hospitals have them on the first floor and stuff? In the movies? Yeah. Umm. I…will shut up now.”

When the rambling abruptly stopped, Minho allowed a half-smile to stretch across his lips. Typical Eunsook. “We need to talk.”

**a/n: dun dun dun dun~ this story is starting to take shape, eh? i'm glad. haha! i've been toying with the idea for a fic like this for years now. yes, years. i didn't have the inspiration and right words for it until lately. question to writers out there, does inspiration come to you when you're busy? cos it came to me when college work got intense OTL lol anyway, again, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me and i'll answer you :)

thanks for reading, subscribing and commenting!<3

'til the next update. toodles~

ps.: this chapter is not beta-edited.**