"I—I need help!

I need somebody right now!

He's n-not breathing! I—I don't know what to do!

I need help!"

"Kyungsoo! Kyungsoo, can you hear me?! Oh, God! Someone help! Kyungsoo!"

Jongin was fully aware, even before he graduated from medical school, that he'd be seeing lots of blood.

He just wasn't prepared for waterfalls of it.

A lot of kids dream of becoming doctors. Jongin wasn't any different. He'd always seen himself wearing a stethoscope, listening to heart beats. Patching people up on surgery tables. Giving patients live changing news.

As a child, he'd wanted to save lives and make a difference in this world. Doctors were heroes. While other boys looked up to Superman and Spiderman, Jongin eyes were always peeled on the doctors every time he visited the hospital.

If he had known he'd be drenched in blood by the end of every day, Jongin would have seriously reconsidered his choice of profession. This was not what he'd signed up for.

It seemed that, with each passing day, there were less patients with natural issues coming in, and more with human-inflicted problems.

What was the world coming to?

Stabs. Burns. Bullets. Jongin was so sick of it. There was always so much blood. And what he hated the most was having the same person under the knife on his operating table. These kinds of patients could give a about how hard he'd worked to rescue them. YOLO, right?

YOLO Jongin's .

90% of his projects were victims of violence. Jongin was beginning to think of quitting, but then again, he'd spent a lifetime of sweat and tears to get to where he was at, and he wasn't willing to give it up yet. Besides, he needed to pay the bills.

But sometimes Jongin wondered what would have happened if he'd become a veterinarian, like his step-brother Joonmyun. At least he wouldn't have had to deal with human nature. Why save a life if the life wasn't even valued?

Dogs seemed to care more about living than humans.

Jongin didn't do it for the money.

No matter what anyone said about him, he wasn't that type of doctor. He took thorough care of his patients. He loved his job, no matter how tiring and disgusting it was. He'd be heartbroken if he'd have to give it up because of all of the trouble it was causing him.

He pursed his lips as he scanned the chart of the unconscious teenager lying in the bed in front of him, oxygen mask planted on his face to pump sweet air into him, IVs filling his throbbing, hungry veins with blood.

Poor bastard. Jongin snuck a glance at him. 

Oh Sehun, read the chart. 19. Suffered from cardiac arrest after a stab to the chest.

Jongin had operated on him a few hours prior. He'd sealed him up like a zipper. And yet, there was no guarantee he was going to make it. He'd lost too much blood, and had died once on the operating table.

Jongin slid the clipboard, chart attached, into the pouch on the bed. All he could think about was Sehun's parents signing the waiver. The tears as they gave permission for their dying son to be handled under Jongin's care, their last hope. Jongin didn't want to be the one breaking the news to them if something went wrong.

Sighing, the surgeon pat Sehun on the knee before sliding his hands into his pockets. He couldn't wait for the kid to wake up back into this world. Hopefully, he would. Jongin wasn't one to handle a failed attempt to save a life.

He walked down the hallway, peeking at a few other patients lying on their beds. Some were just out of a surgery; others were waiting for Jongin to operate on them. And Jongin's goal was to be successful on all of them.

He was turning the corner when a nurse came running at him, her face red and her breath staggering. Jongin picked up his pace to meet her halfway, arms outstretched for the clipboard she was clutching to her chest.

"Dr. Kim! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Why didn't you page me?" Jongin asked, grabbing the chart in her possession.

"I did! Four times!"

"I apologize then." Jongin skimmed over the chart. "Whose is this?"

"Do Kyungsoo," the nurse panted, following him down the hall as Jongin speed walked. "Apparently, he was taking a stroll with his friend and they got mugged. He's been shot in the chest thrice. We've got him on life support and he's hanging in there, but if you don't operate immediately there's no chance of him surviving."

Jongin tossed the chart back to her and began to run. "Is he all set for surgery?"

"Yes, they've got him prepared in the operating room. Hurry!"

Jongin flew past the other nurses and doctors coming down the hall in the opposite direction he was gliding down it, mazing through them. His name suddenly blasted on the hospital speakers. His pager was going insane in his pocket.

Time was against him. Jongin prayed that he could make it to the operating room with enough minutes to spare.

He leaped into his surgical scrubs, making sure to have every part of his body covered. A mask went over his face; gloves went over his hands. As soon as he'd installed a cap onto his head, he burst through the doors of the operating room.

He pushed through the small group of nurse practitioners crowding the operating table, hands instantly flying to check over his shooting victim. He hadn't even touched the barely breathing body when—

His own heart momentarily stopped.

Kyungsoo loved fresh air.

If he could be outdoors every waking moment, he would. There was nothing more that he enjoyed than taking a walk through the park or basking under the sun. He loved swimming through moonlight or dancing under the stars.

This love for the outside world had developed as a child when Kyungsoo, bored out of his mind inside the house, discovered that there was much more adventure right outside of the front door.

He could be a cowboy chasing after cattle (or squirrels, in his case), or a diver searching for buried treasure in the ocean (the pool in the backyard for him; his mother wouldn't let him two feet beyond the actual ocean's edge from fear of him being swept away by a tidal wave).

The only time Kyungsoo actually was inside the house was when his parents demanded he be. Even a rain or snow storm couldn't stop him. He'd find some way to manage around the billowing winds and make a game out of it.

Throughout all of the passing years, his milky skin had been tanned with kisses of sunshine, and littered with little scratches and scars of his amusements. Nothing could stop him from being outdoors.

Not even a night with no stars.

As soon as he'd finished his work for a university project, Kyungsoo had scrambled out of his apartment, all the while calling his friend Minseok to meet him at their usual meeting spot; a lamppost with a deflating balloon hanging by the pole just down the street.

He'd ventured through the darkness, mind habitually turning it into a walk through the jungle. Shadows of passing cars turned into those belonging to lions. Stairs were mountains. Rocks became boulders.

And when he was a few steps from the lamppost, hand moving to wave to Minseok who was already there waiting for him, Kyungsoo felt a sudden pain in his chest. And then another. And another.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Even the sliver of moonlight coming down from the sky vanished from his vision. He could feel himself falling,

             falling,

falling.

And then