pharynx
noun
the membrane-lined cavity behind the nose and mouth, connecting them to the esophagus.

{Minho goes to the doctor's to get checked out.} | 1365w

The lady at the desk only had to hear Minho cough once to tell him to please take a mask and have a seat until he was called. Flu season had just passed, but being part of the hospital staff, she wasn't going to take any chances. He fought the urge to pout and grabbed one of the blue cup-shaped covers in the box, stretching the elastic strap and slipping it around the back of his head. Once in place, he let his bottom lip stick out in distaste. He wasn't dying, but now everyone in the waiting room was staring at him like he might be and it made him feel worse.

Not five minutes went by before a nurse wearing purple floral print scrubs opened the door beside him and called his name. “Choi Minho?”

He stood, smiling politely before realizing she probably couldn't tell. The mask easily covered half of his face.

“Hi there!” she chirped. “Please follow me.” She led him down a short corridor that stretched into a longer one when they turned, but they didn't need to go far. She stopped at a station with the usual check-up equipment and asked him to sit on the chair with a scale beneath it. “I'm just going to take measurements and check your pressure, then you'll be ready for Dr. Lee, okay?”

“Okay.”

She stuck a thermometer under Minho's tongue, weighed him, wrapped a pad around his bare arm, then asked him to stand to determine his height, and all the while he could only think about meeting his doctor again.

Minho was a pretty healthy person, and he didn't particularly like visiting the clinic, but he didn't hesitate to make an appointment when he felt himself getting sick. He reasoned that it was better not to let himself get worse, and that seeing the handsome doctor was just a bonus.

“All done!” She showed him to a small room with two chairs, a desk with a monitor and keyboard, a counter and cabinet with more medical equipment, and an examination bed. “The doctor will be right with you.” She smiled at him a last time before closing the door behind her.

Minho sighed and wished “right with you” didn't mean ten minutes plus. He'd finished reading every poster, article, and brochure on the walls of the space for the third time when he heard two firm knocks on the heavy door.

Minho turned his head and in came the thin, black-haired man who probably looked a lot younger than he was. He wore semi-rimless glasses and his white coat was left open over his powder blue dress shirt and nicely fitted black pants.

“Hello Minho, sorry to keep you waiting. How are you?” He smiled at him and went over to the chair behind the computer and set it up to log his visit.

“Good. Well, not good good..” Otherwise I wouldn't be here, he thought. He hoped he didn't sound as stupid as he felt and found comfort in the thought that other patients would answer in the same manner. Thinking more into it, he wondered why any doctor would ask such a question. The patient could never say 'good' without lying to some degree.

The doctor chuckled. “Sorry for the confusing question. I can't seem to break the habit.”

Minho found himself responding “it's okay” before he knew it and caught himself smiling again though he was sure Dr. Lee couldn't tell.

“I need to ask you some questions, just to keep track, okay?”

He nodded.

“Do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Are you taking any drugs?”

“No.”

“Besides prescription?”

Minho caught the way his eyebrows rose before his expression returned to the nonjudgemental one, and he had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. “No.”

“Do you drink?”

“Occasionally.”

His eyes moved across the screen and he clicked something before continuing. “Are you physically active?”

“Yes.”

“How often do you exercise?”

He thought about it for a second, suddenly wishing he was more consistent. “Four or five times a week?”

The doctor hummed as he entered the information. “Okay, so what's bothering you? What are your symptoms?” He rolled closer on his chair and rested his elbows on the table.

Minho felt as if he were under a spotlight with the doctor staring directly into his eyes. He cleared his throat trying to do away with the jitters he was starting to feel, but caused himself to cough instead.

“Coughing.” He moved his fingers to the board again and began to type, filling the room with the click of the keys.

“Yeah.”

“How long have you had it?”

“Almost a week now.”

“What else?”

“My throat is really sore. It didn't hurt at first, but now it does. I've had headaches lately too.”

“That could be due to coughing. What about fevers?”

Minho shook his head, thinking the way he looked up from the monitor with his eyebrows raised in question was endearing.

“Sit on the bed please, so I can have a look.”

He got up to sit on the high grey cushion, cringing when the paper that was spread across it crumpled loudly under his weight. The doctor followed him and went to the counter, taking a flat wooden stick that looked like a bigger version of those inside popsicles.

The doctor stood before Minho, who'd left his legs spread apart without taking into account that he'd be right in front of him. He cleared his throat and let an awkward moment go by, speaking when he didn't move. “Take your mask off for me?”

Minho wanted to stay behind it then more than ever, but he settled for silently cursing himself while he removed it.

He breathed out a laugh and raised a small flashlight in front of him. “Thank you. Now say 'aah'.”

Minho wondered if actually saying 'aah' was necessary but he did anyway, and was rewarded with another brief flash of Dr. Lee's teeth.

“Oh,” he began as he held Minho's tongue down with the stick and inspected the back of his throat. “Well you do have some redness. Your pharynx appears irritated.. a bit swollen. It hurts, right?”

He hummed as best he could, not being able to look anywhere else but the other's attractive features.

“But no fever?” He freed his tongue and clicked the light off.

“No.”

“Interesting,” he commented, tossing the stick and moving to the computer again. “But not to worry. I'm actually glad it doesn't look like strep throat. I'll have to make sure just in case though. I'll order antibacterial pills for your throat and a syrup for that cough.”

“Alright.” Minho coughed into mask in his hand. “Dr. Lee?”

He looked up, peering at him over the thin black rim of his glasses in an alluring way that was borderline seductive in Minho's eyes. “Yes?”

Swallowing, he shifted on the bed to face him better. “Do you know how I could've gotten this? I mean, I don't know anyone who's sick.”

“Well for an infection like this, you had to have come into contact with someone who was. Are you sure you don't?”

Minho stared at the spotless white floor, thinking about his interactions from the past week.

“No one was coughing? Did you share drinks? Forget to wash your hands?”

He shook his head.

“Kiss anyone?”

He lifted his eyes to the doctor's slightly parted lips. “N– No.”

He chuckled, giving up and typing the last of his prescription. “Well, I'm sure it was something. But it's good to know you haven't been sharing bacteria.”

Take that as you will.

“If you don't have any more questions,” he continued, “you're all set.” He interlaced his fingers and leaned on the desk, waiting for a response.

Minho did have one question, but it had nothing to do with his condition and it probably wouldn't be a good idea to ask it. Patients weren't supposed to get romantically involved with their doctors, after all.

A/N: I feel mean for ending it like this lol