그 어두운 거리를 혼자 걷던 내게
To me, who used to walk these dark streets alone

Wound heals, but scar doesn’t. “Scar, it is a physical existence in memory of the battle that was fought; the bravery and the pain that was endured and proudly conquered.” That’s what people might say. Pretty words. But really, scar doesn’t prove the emblem of a Victor, why would anyone value such ignorance? Scar, it is ugly for reasons; it is the result of unworthiness, my unworthiness. A remnant to caution myself not to forget the sin I have committed, that I can never be forgiven. It engraves itself to mock my abomination, the price I pay for betraying the oath. It’s like poison, killing me every second.
 

흐르는 눈물조차도 몰랐던 나에게
To me, who didn’t even know about flowing tears

“Are you hurt?” a young voice spoke in a foreign language Chihoon probably wouldn’t understand even if he could pay attention. He felt small hand resting on the crown of his head where he crouched like he didn’t exist. He looked up and saw the boy he knew.

“You are alone again,” Chihoon spoke, only to hear the involuntary quaver of his own voice. “Why are you here alone? Why are you always alone?”

“Is it painful?” The boy asked, gently the doctor’s hair which was uncharacteristically soft from the absence of hairspray. The fading ash brown lying limp beneath the darkened roots which once held his halo.

“Don’t always be alone,” Chihoon’s words were choked in between tears.

“Please… just don’t be alone...”

“It must be hurting a lot,” the boy concluded as the elder man dove between his knees, sobbing hysterically.

Grabbing onto the small hand, Chihoon desperately sought the warmth he didn’t deserve. But at least, he thought, if it was from this boy, it would be ok. At least from the boy whom he had saved before he lost his wings and fell from the sky.

Despite literal exchanges not understood; gestures had communicated a thousand words and perhaps, mended a fraction among a thousand of his broken soul.

 

너는 눈부신 빛처럼 다가와 나를 비췄어
You came to me like a dazzling light and shone on me
 

Urk, endless plains like the calm land that it seemed. Beneath the scenic view held the relics of chaos, wars and corruptions. The ominous sky staging a battle between lily white and smouldering dark clouds, with occasion bolts of sparks and low rumbles rooting for the latter. It was apparent which was in home ground.

“Click.” The sound of polaroid developing.

Chihoon lost count of how many times he had been here, and he had never once encountered anyone else. The mine field was barely marked with tiny red flags, but the ‘danger’ sign was there to ward off either ignorant tourists or overly ambitious journalist.

“Hey! You over there!” A bright voice belonging only to the happy people.

“Hello! You speak English?!”

Chihoon didn’t care, he didn’t belong there anymore.

“Doesn’t know English?” He then heard her mumbling in a language he was too familiar with.

He was expecting her to leave, but footsteps approached, and his forlorn heart which had been drowning in tranquillity started to struggle. He found himself panicking, stepping back from the edge of the plain where he was pivoting on. Balls of soil skedaddled off the earth falling helplessly into the waves crashing furiously beneath.

“Hey! Can you hear me?!” the voice called again, relentless like the waves but gentle like the breeze.

Chihoon spun around, tears already b.

“Stay where you are!” he blurted.

A blurred figure was facing him a few yards away. His eyes protested from the aquarium-like vision, commanding the lashes into action, brushing off tears which fell like endless diamonds, welcoming her smiling face.

“You’re Korean too?!” her bright voice travelled from where she was. It sounded almost therapeutic. Before Chihoon could react, she was again trudging past tall grass field towards where he stood.

Stop! He wanted to shout his lungs out but the word was stuck in his throat. He couldn’t afford to give up, so he forced himself to speak again before it was too late.

“It’s dangerous, don’t come,” he managed through breathlessly.

The girl in messy ponytail continued moving forward, carefully avoiding the little red flags but not ignoring them. Chihoon watched in horror, his heart palpitating in his throat. He wouldn’t be able to save her if she blew up a mine. He wouldn’t be able to take another human dying before him.

“Stop moving!” his voice exploded. “Why can’t you listen?! I said stop!” But the air seemed to be thinning around him as he wheezed. “Please…”

Chihoon felt the world spinning as his chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe nor could he stop crying. His chest hurt so much he fell onto his knees, and darkness swirled into his vision.

That’s right. This should be the right way to die, a painful death. I was wishful even till the end. Pathetic. Right, there was no easy escape for a felon.

It was cold, too much pain and frightening as Chihoon futilely struggled. He wanted the struggle to stop, but his body refused to take his command. Because even when his mind had long given up hope, his heart constantly ached for a chance; a chance to live, a chance to atone, a chance to be forgiven. He was slowly losing senses when he heard voices.

“…in… out… breathe…in….”

His survival mechanism reacted before he knew. Chihoon felt something covering his mouth and nose, and a familiar voice pacing his breath. He grabbed the wrists before him in reflex and felt himself gasping for air contained within the small of hands. It took sometimes before he finally regained his senses, his parted lips brushed against soft palms, and the scent of ethanol. The hands pulled away and held on to his shoulders.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked. Her voice calming, and her eyes searching.

Chihoon couldn’t answer. He felt acid burning up his oesophagus threatening to belch. He pushed the hands away and lurched to his side, feeling his inside vigorously expelling the foul content through his mouth. There were light pats on his back until his stomach gave its last squeeze and he finally allowed himself to fell on his back. He was heaving mildly, the sand paper formed at the back of his throat and the fermented taste lingered in his mouth. Chi-hoon pulled away his arm that was hiding his eyes and met the sky which had ceasefire. Neither had won, and the lightning left as briefly as it came. It was now mnemonic shades of pink and purple with the orange sun descending from the horizon.

“Why?” Chi-hoon managed through hoarse voice. He heard rustles of the grass and footsteps.

“I was expecting a ‘thank you’ you know,” the girl said, towering over him as she held out the polaroid; his backview and the majestic sky of dark clouds with silver linings.

“It’s a gift,” she offered.

Chi-hoon watched this random Korean stranger who had just saved his life. Maybe it was the setting sun, but her smile then was blinding.

 

너의 손이 가져간 건 내 눈물이었음을
What your hands took away were my tears

"Greet each other," Mo Yeon introduced one morning with her usual air of superiority which had the effect of either adoring or abhorring her. "They are here as extra support to our team."

Doctor Song seemed unimpressed.

"I see you guys must be taking this as some sort of adventure. To even volunteer yourselves here? Really? Guess it’s good to be young,” Sang Hyun’s words were sincere admiration meticulously seared with resentment.

“Cut them some slack sunbae,” Mo Yeon added weakly before directing her attention back to the newly arrived relief team again.

"We’ll skip the cliché greeting as we still have works on hand. I hope you guys understand, assuming you are not here for vacation.” Mo Yeon gave Sang Hyun a knowing look.

“The rescue at the power plant has concluded but we still have a handful of patients needing treatment. We'll have a briefing at 8am after breakfast. Please be punctual. That’s all for now."

Mo Yeon left after giving the instruction. Chi-hoon offered a curt greeting and turned to leave when someone patted him on the shoulder.

“Nice seeing you again,” greeted the familiar face.

Chi-hoon stared.

And then it clicked.

“The polaroid-” he stammered.

“First year resident of Anesthesiology, Son Yeon-woo,” she introduced with her distinctive eye-smile.

“Let’s be friends.”

She offered her hand.
 

난 이제야 깨달았어
Now I finally know

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a/n: part 1 of 5
cameo Dr Kang and Dr Song x)