Author's note:

This chapter contains:
- the story of Minhyun and Jaehwan's first patient
- minhwan being minhwan, and the story of how Minhyun fell in love

and

- returning to Daniel's timeline again

______

Whenever you see ♪♪♪ , please click on it! (open in new tab/window). It's music accompaniment for that part of the story! :)
Also, don't forget to turn off autoplay!

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When the instructor announced the names, Minhyun froze. He was sure that he had misheard.

“Hwang Minhyun and Kim Jaehwan.”

What.

What?

He wasn’t the only one shocked. In the room, surprised looks on the other candidates showed that they were confused as well.

Because everyone knew that Hwang Minhyun and Kim Jaehwan were complete polar opposites of each other. They were that different. More than once were they caught bickering over little things— such as the state of Jaehwan’s desk, or Minhyun saying how the dust was making his face itch, and how lazy the young candidate could be.

One could say that if Jaehwan was a roaring cyclone, Minhyun would be the calm that happened before the storm hit. It was to that extent.

It wasn’t as if Minhyun hated Jaehwan. Not at all. By that time, they were already friends. Not close friends, but friends nonetheless.

Weeks had passed since the night Minhyun discovered that Jaehwan was the mysterious singer. They had met up a couple times after that, in class and around the Sigmund Corp building. Minhyun had long since accepted the fact that Jaehwan was loud, sloppy, and even lazy at times (he had witnessed Jaehwan asking Woojin to pass him his drink, even though the drink was only slightly out of arm’s reach. Woojin had instead grabbed the drink and held it high above his head, causing Jaehwan to screech like a pterodactyl.)

Minhyun was okay with Jaehwan being Jaehwan. He even enjoyed spending time with him, though he would never admit that out loud. But to work together with him... that was another thing.

Minhyun was still trying to overcome the surprise when Jaehwan walked up to him, grinning from ear to ear.

“I guess we’re partners, hyung.”

“Yeah... I guess we are.” Minhyun then pulled on his calm, serious face. “Let’s get the files. We can look over the documents at my apartment.”

They had a day to prepare for the first simulation. He needed someplace quiet to think, for them to discuss their plans.

 

 

 

Minhyun’s apartment was only a half hour bus ride from Sigmund Corp.

It was a nice, cozy place. The apartment complex itself was quite large, with friendly neighbors and a nice environment.

Minhyun led Jaehwan to the elevator, which they rode to the eleventh floor. He unlocked the door to his room and let it swing open.

He the lights and Jaehwan let out an “oooh”.

It wasn’t that luxurious or anything. Just a moderately-sized living room with an open kitchen at the back. Bookshelves lined up one wall, next to a television with a couch in front. A small dining table stood near the kitchen’s stove and refrigerator, with four chairs around it.

There were three other doors— one leading to Minhyun’s bedroom, one to the bathroom, and one to the balcony.

And of course, everything was sparkling clean and tidy. He had a special collection of cleaning utensils, some of which his friends had given to him for his birthday.

“We can work on the table,” Minhyun said, taking off his shoes and setting them on the shoe rack. Jaehwan, watching him, did the same.

Jaehwan made himself comfortable on one of the chairs while Minhyun rummaged through the fridge and cabinets. “Nice place, hyung.”

Minhyun smiled in reply, setting down two glasses of water. He took a seat next to Jaehwan as the younger placed the Sigmund Corp folder on the table.

“Okay,” Jaehwan said. “Let’s look at our client.”

“Let’s.”

They pored over the documents, paying attention to the smallest detail. Even the most bland and seemingly unimportant detail could prove to be of utmost importance for the procedure.

Their “client”, nicknamed Bill, was a 71-year-old man who wished to be a rock star. He was in critical condition so the doctors only had a few hours at best to perform the procedure.

After discussing for hours and coming up with a main plan and backup plan, night had already arrived. Minhyun could see the moon and stars peeking from the windows, and things actually felt peaceful.

Maybe it was because Minhyun knew that the client wasn’t a real person— just a computer program designed by Sigmund Corp for the company selections. So he felt calmer, knowing that he wasn’t dealing with a living person on their death bed.

But that didn’t stop himself from worrying— just a little.

They finished up an hour later. As Minhyun gathered the documents and placed them into the folder, Jaehwan patted him on the shoulder. “Good luck for us tomorrow,” the younger said with a smile.

The tenseness eased a little from Minhyun’s body. He smiled back. “We’ll do great.”

“We’ll slay!”

Minhyun laughed. “Yeah.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to have Jaehwan as a partner after all.

 

 

 

 

________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

And they, indeed, did slay.

 

 

 

When they resurfaced to the real world, taking off their helmets, things seemed to spin for a bit. Minhyun took a few steady breaths. They had been informed before that disorientation was an aftereffect of the procedure.

Jaehwan was next to him, already on his feet. Minhyun slowly got up as well, giving Jaehwan a pat on the shoulder.

In front of them were three instructors. They were looking down at clipboards in their hands, and at the screen displaying images of what occurred in the memories.

Then one of the instructors looked up, fixing her eyes on both Minhyun and Jaehwan.

“Hwang Minhyun and Kim Jaehwan,” the instructor said, tone serious. Then she smiled. “Congratulations, you both passed the first simulation.”

Jaehwan let out a tiny shriek and Minhyun felt the widest grin spread across his face. He turned to look at Jaehwan, locking eyes, at a loss for words.

Then they flung their arms around each other, letting out cheers and relieved laughs.

It was their first hug.

 

 

 

 

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Life really worked in mysterious ways.

A lot of doctor candidates wondered how long it would take for Minhyun and Jaehwan to be fed up with each other, and for one of them to beg for a partner switch.

But Minhyun never got fed up. He also never asked for another partner. The word “temporary” had slipped his mind. The same went for Jaehwan.

Because out of all odds, the polar opposites clicked. Minhyun’s calm and calculated thinking, and Jaehwan's spontaneity and random bursts of ideas— they somehow complemented each other. That itself was evident in the simulations that they succeeded on.

And the pattern continued. They passed more simulations and tests. Whatever was thrown at them, they made it through. Somehow. But surely.

Naturally, Minhyun and Jaehwan spent more time together. Minhyun’s apartment became their little headquarters— a small and quiet place to pore over files of programmed clients, to discuss their plans for the tests, and occasionally go over their class notes.

(Or as quiet as a place can be with Kim Jaehwan in the room.)

And in between those serious moments, they’d do little mundane everyday things— An early dinner on the kitchen counter, staring out the window at the streets below, watching bits of variety shows on the television, and chatting about the most random things till the clock indicated that night had fallen a bit too deep, and Jaehwan had to hurry and catch the last train ride home.

Months passed and December came. Hwang Minhyun and Kim Jaehwan walked down the Sigmund Corp halls, wearing their official white lab coats.

Jonghyun held another toast to celebrate them actually becoming doctors this time.

 

 

 

 

________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

They were looking forward to their first official job. This time, it wasn’t a computer programmed patient with a wish, but a real human being with a real wish that really needed their help.

But there was something different in the air as the two doctors settled themselves on the couch of Minhyun’s apartment. Minhyun sat at one end, slowly opening the client’s file that suddenly felt so much heavier in his grip; and Jaehwan on the other end, a notepad and pencil in his hand, ready to jot down any important details.

Minhyun opened the file and started reading the contents. “Client name: Yoo Yeonjung.”

Jaehwan nodded.

“Her wish is to sing in front of thousands of people.”

Jaehwan nodded again.

“Age,” Minhyun continued, and then halted. He held the file closer to his face, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Was there a number missing...?

“Age?” Jaehwan asked, looking up from his notes.

Minhyun slowly set down the file. His voice quiet as he said, “Nine...”

The younger doctor frowned. “Ninety...? Ninety what?”

Minhyun shook his head. “No. Nine.” From the folder, he pulled out a photo from its paper-clipped hold.

The photo was of a little girl with a warm smile.

“She’s nine years old.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their dozens of simulations didn’t prepare them for this.

To be in front of a living, breathing patient on a hospital bed, with the steady beeping of a cardiac monitor filling their ears.

To be in front of the patient’s family, who attempted to hold back tears, asking the doctors to help their daughter fulfill her final wish.

Jaehwan’s hand trembled as he carefully placed the Sigmund Corp helmet over Yoo Yeonjung’s head. And Minhyun tried to ignore the shaking of his own fingers as he configured the codes and slipped on his own helmet.

And when everything went black, he felt that he was plunged into a deep, deep ocean. It was dark and terrifying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yeonjung was a small, bright girl with long black hair. When she smiled, the smile went all the way to her eyes.

But it was soon replaced with a confused frown when she saw the two doctors standing in front of her.

They were in a playground. Nine-year-old Yeonjung sat on the swings, blinking slowly. “You’re not mom and dad,” she said.

Minhyun shook his head. He crouched down to match the little girl’s height, trying to put on a comforting smile. “No... I’m Dr. Hwang Minhyun. And this other doctor is my friend, Kim Jaehwan. We’re from Sigmund Corp.”

“Oh.”

“We’re here to fulfill your wish,” Jaehwan said softly, crouching down as well.

“But my parents told me that the doctors would come when I’m already...” Yeonjung paused. Seconds passed. “Mister, am I going to die?”

“We’re sorry, Yeonjung.” Minhyun tried to ignore how his heart was hurting already. “Your real body is in a hospital right now. Your parents are there right next to you.”

“Oh...” Yeonjung looked at the ground, her small hands holding onto the swing. “Well... At least I got to hug mom and dad last night.” And she had a small smile on her face, but her bottom lip was quivering. She was trying to look strong, to look like she was prepared for this. But her eyes were watery, and she clutched tighter onto the swing’s chains.

Nothing prepared them for this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yeonjung loved to sing.

As Minhyun and Jaehwan traveled backwards through her timeline, it became more and more evident how the little girl loved music. From a very young age, she listened to songs that her parents would play on speakers, soft melodies and voices filling the house. And as she grew older, she started to sing along to those songs as well— on the playground, at home, on her way home from school.

At the age of eight, she joined a nationwide singing competition. She made it pass the auditions, but failed the first round. The judges told her that she had a great voice and overflowing potential, but at the moment she just wasn’t ready.

Her motive as clear but there was always an obstacle blocking her way.

As the two doctors watched Yeonjung and her crest-fallen face, Jaehwan sighed.

“She's extremely talented,” the younger doctor said. “But she was taught the wrong techniques. I mean, did you see her vocal coach? He was horrible. And she’s young so she must’ve felt she that had to listen to him.”

Minhyun nodded. “Her parents couldn’t afford a proper vocal coach.”

Without missing a beat, Jaehwan said, “I could be one.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

They decided to carry out their plan in the memory of Yeonjung at eight years old, weeks before the singing competition. Minhyun found the least conspicuous way to recommend Kim Jaehwan as a vocal teacher. Though they did have to tweak Jaehwan’s credentials here and there, to gain the trust of Yeonjung’s parents in said memory.

Credentials or not, Jaehwan knew what he was doing. During his university days, he was a frequent visitor of the Applied Music department of his campus— learning from his friends there and even busking with them occasionally. And Jaehwan’s parents would tell Minhyun of how their son delved a lot in music ever since he was young.

So when they sat down with Yeonjung on the first day, with Jaehwan giving her the first lesson with the help of her family’s old rusty piano, Minhyun felt that things would work out.

And Yeonjung trusted Jaehwan. It took some time and a few lessons later, but she trusted him. The bright smiles on her face and her enthusiasm showed that. Jaehwan brought Minhyun along one day, introducing him as the second teacher. Although she was wary of the new addition, she eventually grew to like him as well.

This time, she passed the auditions and the first round. And the round after that.

Days passed and the memory continued to change— towards the direction of the patient’s final wish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were a lot of moments, a lot of new memories formed over the old.

Little by little, Yeonjung told the two doctors about herself— about how she grew up with music, how she wanted to help her parents who she knew were struggling, how she wanted to make them proud, and her hopes for the future.

Most of the things she told them were things that they already knew from the past memories. But it felt different when it was Yeonjung that told them herself. They listened to her intently, giving her encouragement along the way. And she would smile at them— that bright, cheerful smile.

Yeonjung was also a very playful person. During breaks from the lessons, Jaehwan would do and say silly things to brighten the mood, and it would make Yeonjung laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And time continued to tick by.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They were walking by the Han River when Yeonjung grabbed both Jaehwan and Minhyun’s hand, dragging them along as she ran.

The sun was setting, bathing everything in a warm orange color. And the city continued to bustle around them, alive with all its movements and noise.

“Where are we going, Yeonjung?” Jaehwan laughed.

“To the riverside!” the little girl said, trying to catch her breath.

A small breeze blew in their direction. Minhyun felt the slight chill through his long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Replacing the white lab coats of Sigmund Corp employees, he and Jaehwan wore normal everyday clothes.

Minhyun looked over his shoulder to see Yeonjung’s parents giving them a thumbs-up from afar. They had agreed on Yeonjung’s request of having an outdoor singing lesson, as long as they were allowed to tag along as well.

Close to the water’s edge were benches for pedestrians to rest on. But the two doctors and the little girl chose instead to stand, their eyes on the river that stretched on and on.

“It’s nice, right?” Yeonjung said, smiling widely.

“Very nice,” Jaehwan replied.

“Very calming too,” Minhyun added.

Yeonjung nodded. “This is a good place to brainstorm.”

“Have you decided on a song for the final round?” Jaehwan asked. The final round— the round with the audience of thousands of people, and would be aired live for the whole country to see.

Yeonjung nodded again. “It’s a song I really like. It’s sad, but filled with hope.”

“What song is it?”

And Minhyun could feel Yeonjung squeezing his hand, knowing that she was doing the same to Jaehwan’s.

The little girl smiled up at the both of them.

“Downpour,” she answered. “The song is called Downpour.”

 

 

 

 

It was a farewell song— of those who have been with each other, creating happy memories together, but eventually parting ways. But, like Yeonjung said, it was also filled with hope. Hopes of meeting again.

And it was a constant reminder to Minhyun of the limited time they had with Yeonjung. That she was their patient, and they were here to help her fulfill her last wish. But a farewell waited for them at the end of the journey as well.

Minhyun noticed it. How Yeonjung had grown fond of them as the days passed. She was wary of Jaehwan when they first met, but eventually warmed up to him. She was even more wary of Minhyun, but here they were now.

And when Minhyun realized that he himself had grown fond of the little girl as well, he tried his best to chase the feeling away. To push it away, never to think of it again.

Doctors are not allowed to get attached to patients.

It was a golden rule. Not only for professionalism’s sake, but also for the sake of the doctors themselves.

 

 

 

 

But what Minhyun also realized was how Jaehwan seemed to get more attached as time passed. Time in the Sigmund Corp machine, after all, was hard to keep track of.

And one could easily get lost the minute they forget that it was all happening in the memory of a dying patient.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The announcer spoke into the microphone with a booming voice. “And here is our second finalist, Yoo Yeonjung! She’ll be performing Downpour by the famous songwriter Woozi. Please give her a round of applause!”

As clapping filled the large hall, Yeonjung held tightly onto her microphone. She waved at both of the doctors before she ran to greet the audience.

“I know I shouldn’t be worrying,” Jaehwan said, as he and Minhyun watched from backstage. “She practiced this song a million times already.”

“She’ll be fine,” Minhyun said.

“This must be what it feels like to be a big brother,” Jaehwan continued with a small smile. “A nervous brother, waiting for his little sister to perform at the talent show.” He then laughed. “Or maybe a nervous dad when his kid’s about to go up on stage.”

Silent, Minhyun patted Jaehwan on the shoulder. He left his hand lingering for a few extra seconds, because the minute that Yeonjung finished singing, her wish would be fulfilled. And he wasn’t sure if the younger doctor was ready for the finality of it all.

Jaehwan, I hope you’ll be fine too.

 

 

Yeonjung came running back to them after the performance, the widest smile on her face.

Jaehwan was already crouching down, his arms stretched out, hands a double-thumbs up. Yeonjung threw her arms around him, saying, “I did it, I did it!”

Chuckling, Jaehwan hugged her back and stood up, spinning in circles. The little girl clung onto him, laughing, her feet touching the air.

“You were amazing!” Jaehwan exclaimed after putting her down. “You should’ve seen the looks on the crowd’s faces when you slayed that high note! You are so gonna win this!”

“I don’t need to win.” Yeonjung wiped her eyes. “I just wanted to sing.”

Minhyun pulled on a smile. He crouched down to her height, just like he did on their first meeting, and said, “You were really amazing, Yeonjung.”

She hugged him as well.

His heart clenching a little more painfully, Minhyun patted her on the back before she pulled away. The announcer had called her name, asking her to give a little speech before the winner announcement.  

She gave them another wave before heading back to the stage again.

And just like that, Yoo Yeonjung’s wish was fulfilled.

 

 

As the eight-year-old girl gave her speech, Minhyun clasped his friend on the shoulder.

“Jaehwan, we need to go.”

“Go where, hyung?”

And that was when he knew Jaehwan was lost. 

Minhyun pulled out the portable heart monitor from his pocket. On the screen, a single line continued to move, but it had become faster, less steady.

Jaehwan looked at the monitor with a blank look on his face, as if he was in a daze. As if he didn’t recognize what the object in Minhyun’s palm was.

“Yeonjung doesn’t have much time left,” Minhyun said, and he ignored the slight tremor in his voice.

“But—” Jaehwan started. His eyes found the stage. “She’s right there.”

“Jaehwan.”

“We were going to get ice cream after this. You know the little convenience store near the river?”

“Jaehwan...”

“She wanted to go there before, but it was raining. So I said that we’d go later.”

Minhyun’s grip on the heart monitor tightened. “Jaehwan, please. We need to resurface before...” The words got caught in his throat. He didn’t continue.

Jaehwan studied Minhyun’s face, seeing the calm demeanor break, revealing a fragility that he had not seen before from Minhyun. It seemed to snap the younger doctor back from his dream-like state— back to reality.

“Okay...” Jaehwan said, his words hanging in the air. “You’re right, hyung. We should...” His voice trailed off. “We should go.”

“Do you want to say goodbye to her first?”

They had at least a few minutes.

Jaehwan turned to the stage again. He nodded.

 

 

Yeonjung won the competition. For the second time, she ran back to them, this time with a trophy in her hand.

“Told you,” Jaehwan said.

“I was just happy to sing!” Yeonjung insisted.

Jaehwan smiled, ruffling her hair. “I know.”

There was a pause.

“Yeonjung, listen... Me and Minhyun-hyung need to go right now.”

Yeonjung blinked, a little confused. “Where are you two going?”

“Uh, I mean... Me and Minhyun-hyung have other work to do. Unfortunately.”

“Oh. I see. Grown-up life must be really busy.”

There was another pause.

“Mister, why are you crying?”

Startled, Jaehwan shook his head, wiping his eyes. “It’s tears of joy.”

Yeonjung tugged on the younger doctor’s arm till Jaehwan crouched down to her height.

“But why do you look so sad?” the little girl said. Then she frowned. “This isn’t goodbye, right? We’ll see each other again after this, right?”

Minhyun squeezed Jaehwan’s shoulder.

“We will,” Jaehwan replied.

Yeonjung looked at him straight in the eyes. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” Jaehwan pulled on a shaky smile. “But for now, it’s goodbye.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sound of a long, never-ending beep greeted the two doctors after they resurfaced. Minhyun slowly took off his helmet, and he waited a full twenty seconds before standing up lest he stumble from the disorientation.

Jaehwan sat next to him, helmet also in his lap. The younger doctor looked dazed, confused, as if wondering where he was.

Minhyun helped Jaehwan climb his feet, and together they faced their patient.

Yeonjung’s mother had tears in her eyes as she said, “She was smiling.” And then, “Thank you.”

And with the parents, the two doctors stood by Yoo Yeonjung’s bedside. The little girl’s eyes were closed, a motionless hand on the blanket that covered her body, and the faint trace of a smile still lingering on her lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the car ride to Minhyun’s apartment, the older doctor had suggested that they have a late dinner first. They hadn’t eaten anything proper for days.

Jaehwan answered with a small nod. He was silent the whole time, ever since they left the hospital.

But when they sat themselves at the table and the food actually came, neither of them had the appetite. Meanwhile, the clock continued to tick in the background.

Jaehwan eventually stood up, grabbing the coat that he had thrown on Minhyun’s couch. “I should go now, hyung. It’s getting late.”

“Jaehwan, I think you should stay the night.”

The younger doctor looked at him, saw Minhyun’s worried face.

“It’s okay, hyung. I’m okay.”

Minhyun shook his head. Jaehwan was obviously in no state to go anywhere by himself— let alone to his home that was all the way across the city. The fatigue was obvious in Jaehwan’s eyes, and he looked exhausted and ready to collapse at any second. Not to mention the fragility in the younger doctor’s voice, as if he could break at any minute.

“I insist,” Minhyun said.

“I didn’t bring any of my stuff—”

Minhyun quickly cut down any excuses. “There’s a spare toothbrush and you can borrow my clothes.”

“Hyung...”

“Jaehwan, I insist.”

The stare-off lasted for a solid ten seconds. Finally, the younger doctor gave in.

“Okay,” Jaehwan said with a sigh. “I’ll stay.”

 

 

 

 

An hour later and Minhyun had set up a comfortable sleeping area in the living room, placing a pillow and a warm blanket on the couch.

Jaehwan was about to flop onto the couch when Minhyun stopped him.

“This is for me,” the older said. “You can sleep in my room.”

“What?”

“How could I make a guest sleep on the couch? That’d be rude.”

“No way, hyung, I’d feel bad.”

But Minhyun placed his hands on Jaehwan’s shoulders and gently guided him to the room. “Stop worrying so much,” he said, swinging the door open.

Through the window with the curtains pulled apart, moonlight streamed in.

Just like everything else in the apartment, the bedroom was tidy and spotless. Books were neatly lined up at the study desk, the floor was clear of any stray clothes, the bed covers free of any crinkles with the blanket folded at a perfect rectangular at the end.

“I really shouldn’t...” Jaehwan started.

Minhyun slid his hand off the other’s shoulders and made his way back to the living room. “Well, I’m already tagging the couch, so the bed’s your only option.”

Jaehwan let out another sigh.

 

 

 

 

Sleep didn’t come easily to Minhyun that night.

After tossing and turning for what must have been hours, he slowly got up to fetch himself a glass of water.

He was silently passing the bedroom when he heard it.

Small, choked sobs— coming from behind the ajar door.

Feeling his heart drop, Minhyun gently pushed open the door and entered.

Jaehwan lay on his side on the bed, facing the wall, body curled up as a hand covered his face— as if he was trying to muffle his voice. He made no indication of noticing the other person walking towards him.

Minhyun sat himself on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand on Jaehwan’s shoulder. The younger doctor twitched, and he looked up to see his friend.

“Minhyun-hyung...”

“I’m here. You don’t have to hold it back, Jaehwan. If you want to cry, you can cry.”

A second passed. Two seconds.

Then Jaehwan’s defenses crumbled. He turned away again as the tears fell from his face, as the sobs wracked his body.

Minhyun stayed by his side, a comforting hand still on his shoulder.

“Yeonjung... She...” Jaehwan finally said, after he had calmed down a little. “She was so young.”

Minhyun nodded.

“The days felt like years, hyung. I know I was stupid. I know I shouldn’t have gotten attached.” Jaehwan’s voice broke again. “I shouldn’t have cared for her in the first place.”

The other doctor gave him another comforting pat on the shoulder. He had to be strong, for his friend’s sake. “I’m here. We’ll get through this together.”

Minutes passed and Jaehwan eventually cried himself to sleep. Minhyun wrapped the blanket around the younger man, examining his now calm yet tear-stained face.

“Goodnight, Jaehwan.”

Minhyun then walked over to the window, watching the moon for a bit before closing the curtains. He then left the room as quietly as possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Jaehwan kept his promise. A week after the funeral, they visited Yeonjung’s grave.

The snow fell lightly on the flowers that they had carefully placed, below the name of their late patient.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Weeks passed again. The company was ready to assign them another patient, but Jaehwan had already isolated himself by then. Minhyun hadn’t seen him for days, so he drove to Jaehwan’s home to where the younger doctor’s parents waited with concerned faces.

“He’s been locking himself up in his room,” Jaehwan’s mother said when Minhyun arrived. “He hasn’t been eating his meals.”

It was obvious cause for worry. But after a lot of urging, Jaehwan answered the door, still talked to them. He looked at Minhyun, and the latter noticed how bloodshot Jaehwan’s eyes were, the shadows underneath them— and how empty his eyes looked, devoid of emotion.

Time, Jaehwan said to Minhyun. He just needed some time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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More weeks passed and Jaehwan found himself back on his feet again. His smile slowly returned. Soon after that, he and Minhyun received another patient. They fulfilled the wish, and this time they did it according to how their instructors had always told them.

Without getting attached. Without empathizing too much. Without caring too much.

And yet, Minhyun could still see the slight hurt in Jaehwan’s eyes as a medical doctor walked in, covering the patient’s face with a white sheet. But at second glance, Jaehwan had pulled on a more passive face, as if nothing happened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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It was before their fourth procedure when Minhyun asked Jaehwan to move in with him.

The question came while they were lazing on the couch, with Jaehwan munching on his sixth slice of pizza. With the television on, he had his eyes glued to the screen, laughing a bit when something funny appeared.

Normally, Minhyun would have commented on how the younger doctor was eating a bit too much, but after seeing the amount of weight that Jaehwan had lost during his recovery from their first job, Minhyun was glad to see him eating like usual.

The two doctors were to receive the files of their new patient tomorrow, but for now they just wanted to rest and clear their minds for a bit.

“Jaehwan,” Minhyun suddenly said.

“Hm?”

“What do you think about living here with me?”

Pizza still hanging from his mouth, Jaehwan turned to him. After blinking a couple times, the younger doctor chewed and swallowed.

“What do you mean, hyung?”

“I mean, moving in. In this apartment, with me. The bedroom’s big, so we can easily fit two beds in it. We could also split the rent.” Minhyun paused, just realizing that it was best to explain why he made the suggestion in the first place, and not how things would be. “Your house is on the other side of the city, Jaehwan. It’s a good hour away from Sigmund Corp. You could save time if you move in here. Not to mention the times you fell asleep in the train and missed your stop.”

And worried the heck out of me, Minhyun didn’t say.

He then continued, calmly.

“And you know how it is with our work. We have to be on constant standby for a patient. Once we receive the files, they could call us hours from then. Maybe days later. Or weeks. We never know. But if we’re at the same place, it’d be easier to just hop into the car together and drive right away to where the patient is. It’d also make it easier for us for when we need to go over the documents together, and you wouldn’t have to worry about catching the last train.”

“I guess you have a point, hyung.”

Now that he spilled out all of his logical reasons, Minhyun felt the blood roaring in his ears. He was actually... nervous?

“So... What do you think?”

Jaehwan looked at him some more. He then smiled. “I think it’s a great idea.”

 

 

 

 

Minhyun’s apartment became Minhyun and Jaehwan’s apartment.

They set up a second bed at the other end of the bedroom, close to the window. Jaehwan had jumped on the mattress immediately, and Minhyun quickly told him to stop or he’d break it. They had spent a good 3 hours looking for the right-sized bed and he didn’t want to see their efforts going to waste that quickly.

The day after that, they went to Jaehwan’s house to pack up his belongings. When that was done, piles of boxes filled the trunk and back seat of their company car, with Jaehwan clutching his guitar case carefully.

Before they left, Jaehwan’s parents asked Minhyun to take good care of their son, even if he was quite a handful. Minhyun gave them a reassuring smile and promised that he would.

 

 

 

 

The dynamics of Minhyun’s life changed after Jaehwan moved in.

He would usually wake up to the sound of his alarm clock chiming, but now he woke up to the sound of a guitar being played at 6 AM in the morning, or by Jaehwan’s groans when the younger stretched like a cat on the bed.

That was, if Jaehwan was the first to wake up. Which wasn’t that often.

It became an everyday thing for Minhyun to cross the room and nudge Jaehwan awake. And Jaehwan would burrow even deeper into the blankets and Minhyun would have to attempt to wake him up five minutes later. He’d succeed every single time, though.

And it was a different feeling to have breakfast with someone every day. Sometimes Jaehwan would come out of the room with sleepy eyes and messy bed hair, walking like a zombie. When he sat down at the table, Minhyun would have to make sure that the younger boy didn’t faceplant into his food.

Besides morning routines, there were also changes in pretty much every aspect of Minhyun’s life. He was usually meticulous when it came to cleaning and keeping things tidy— and Jaehwan was the complete opposite of that.

So when Minhyun came home one day to see coffee spilled on the table, a jacket thrown carelessly on the couch, and Jaehwan’s side of the bedroom in a mess as if a tornado had blown right through it, Minhyun made it his goal to turn Kim Jaehwan into a cleaner and tidier person.

Months passed and he had yet to reach his goal. But things did get a little better, courtesy of Minhyun’s daily nagging.

They went to work together, sometimes taking turns driving. Minhyun had held his breath the first time Jaehwan sat behind the wheel (“I’m going to sleep. I can’t watch you drive,” the older doctor had said), but he had learned to trust Jaehwan more after the third crash-free ride.

And Minhyun was right; living together did make their job easier. Weeks passed and they received more cases, fulfilled more wishes. They would read and discuss the patient’s files until the late hours of the night, way past the time of the last available train. And when they suddenly received a call to perform the procedure A.S.A.P, they hopped into the car immediately and drove off, the Sigmund Corp machine tucked safely in the trunk.

When they finished their job, they would head back home, ordering a meal or settling on instant food because neither of them could cook that well.

(They had tried to cook before, and it was not pretty. Jonghyun and Minki were witnesses to that incident.)

 

 

 

 

Minhyun got used to living with Jaehwan fairly quickly. And he noticed the little things that he never noticed before— how Jaehwan kept the nails of his right hand long, while keeping the ones on the other hand short. It was for guitar-playing.

He’d also notice how Jaehwan balanced himself on the sides of his feet when he stood for a long period of time, how he’d sneeze according to the correct way by the World’s Health Organization, and how he got louder and louder after getting drunk.

(Minhyun himself didn’t partake in the drinking, but he would always be the one to carry Jaehwan home).

And in return, Jaehwan learned things about Minhyun— such as how the older doctor had a salt allergy, the drinks that he preferred over alcohol and coffee, and the little things that bugged him.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would be living with the noisy boy from the cafeteria with the annoying laugh, Minhyun would have scoffed and thought it ridiculous. But here he was, living with Kim Jaehwan, and it was... nice. It was nice and comfortable.

That was how things were. They coexisted together, in each other’s lives.

And somewhere in between the chaos and mundane moments, Minhyun fell in love.

 

 

 

 

It would have been great if the realization came to him during a quiet and calming time— Maybe during the late and quiet hours in their apartment, or perhaps on a peaceful drive home.

Or maybe when they were walking towards the Sigmund Corp building, or even when they were visiting parts of the city, with the cherry blossoms falling around them.

But it didn't. The realization came at the worst opportune time, which resulted in Minhyun nearly sailing away into the Antarctic Ocean and Jaehwan screaming at him not to live with the penguins.

 

 

It went like this:

They were on a ship in the middle of the ocean, in the memory of their sixth client. They were invisible and muted to everyone but themselves, though there was only one other person on the ship with them. It was deep into the night, with the countless stars above and the cold wind that blew every so often.

Their client was stretched out on a bench, fast asleep. And he had been fast asleep for the past twenty minutes.

After it became awkward to keep staring at their client (who still showed no sign of waking up from his deep slumber), the two doctors decided to walk a bit to the railing, to see the sights in front of them.

It was the client’s private ship, so the whole deck was empty except for them. Jaehwan rested his arms on the railing, facing ahead.

There was nothing in front of them, just the endless body of water. The ship had left port hours ago, leaving behind a sea-side town and its lighthouses.

“Hyung.”

“Yeah, Jaehwan?”

“Do you ride ships often?”

Minhyun thought about it. “Sometimes. Not that often though. Why?”

“Just a random thought.” Jaehwan continued staring at the waters. “When I was little, my parents took me on a ship ride. And we kinda stared at the sea, near the railing like this. We were getting close to our destination, and on the horizon were hundreds and hundreds of little lights. They were all sorts of different colors, but mostly yellow and orange.”

“I’ve seen that sort of view.”

Jaehwan nodded. “And my dad told me that each of those tiny lights had their own stories. I didn’t understand it at first, because little Jaehwan thought they were just lights. But the closer we got to port, the more details you can see. The lights belonged to things— such as lighthouses, buildings, cars, and other boats as well.” He paused. “And in those lighthouses and everything, there were people. People with their own stories. Maybe a sailor lived in the lighthouse. Maybe there were families on the boats, excited for their trip. And then I remembered how the view looked from afar: just thousands of lights.”

Intrigued, Minhyun wondered where this was going.

“It’s kind of like... When you’re far away from something, that something may look great and all. But the closer you get to it, you’ll start seeing more. The little details. And you learn to appreciate the little details, to see how complex it is, and then that something becomes even more beautiful in your eyes.”

Minhyun smiled. “Is this for a song, Jaehwan?”

Jaehwan laughed. “You caught me. Yeah, it is.” He sighed. “When we left the port on this ship—” He tapped the railing. “I was staring at the lights again. And my mind just started running.”

“I bet you really wish you had your lyric book right now.”

“You caught me again, hyung.”

Another thing that Minhyun learned about Jaehwan was that not only did he like singing songs, but he also liked writing them. He’d find inspiration in the littlest of things, strum a chord on the guitar, and scribble down lyrics furiously in his notebook. Sometimes he’d share his ideas to Minhyun first, just like he was doing now. Occasionally the lyrics would be silly— maybe about a spider that climbed up the wall and scared the out of Jaehwan. But oftentimes, the lyrics were a lot more serious and thoughtful.

Jaehwan glanced over his shoulder, saw that their client was still fast asleep, and turned back to the horizon.

“I’ll start writing when we get home,” he said.

“Is it a love song?”

Jaehwan shook his head. “Not particularly, but I guess it could be interpreted that way.”

 

 

♪♪♪

 

 

Suddenly, there was the sound of a horn in the distance, somewhere to their right. A long, deep sound. The two doctors turned to the direction of the noise.

It was another ship, still far away that they only saw its lights.

“You think that little dot of light has a story as well?” Minhyun said.

“A ship passing by in the night. With a captain sailing all alone, maybe.”

“That’s sad.”

Silence fell. Minutes passed as they watched the ship getting closer and closer, glancing over their shoulder to see that their client was still fast asleep, and turning back to the ship again.

When the two ships were nearly side-by side, Minhyun suddenly smiled. “Or maybe on that ship is a man named Hwang Minhyun, on his way to an adventure.”

Jaehwan laughed. “What?”

Minhyun pressed a few buttons on his wristwatch. There was a new feature that the science department had been working on. It seemed like a good time to try it out.

“Hyung, what are you doing?”

But Minhyun suddenly disappeared. He flickered for three seconds before vanishing in thin air.

“Hyung!”

The other ship already reached the client’s ship by then, passing by as they both moved in the opposite direction.

On the empty deck of the new ship was a slight flicker. Jaehwan squinted his eyes, wondering what it was. Then Minhyun appeared, leaning on the ship’s railing.

It was a new feature that enabled doctors to “teleport” from one place to another, though the range was only for a few meters.

Minhyun waved. “Hello there, young man. Now where are you off to?”

The worry melted off Jaehwan’s face, replaced by a relieved smirk. “I’m a traveling musician. I’m heading to Paris right now. Maybe Amsterdam after that.” He giggled. “How about you?”

“Just going on an adventure.” Minhyun smiled, looking thoughtful. “Have any recommendations for me?”

“Antarctica sounds like a good place.”

“Sounds cold.”

“The penguins are cute though.”

“Well, I guess I could live with the penguins for a while.”

And then Jaehwan laughed again. Minhyun couldn’t help but smile even wider.

There was a joy that came to him whenever he made Jaehwan laugh. He didn’t know how to describe it. Just this sort of weird clenching feeling in his chest that made him feel like he could run a million miles. Or maybe even fly.

It was simple, really. He liked making Jaehwan smile. Liked seeing him happy. And somehow, when Jaehwan was happy, it automatically made Minhyun happy. As if it was an automatic reaction— something natural.

Not only that. It was also the distance. The ships were only meters apart, a small gap of water separating them, and yet— And yet Minhyun felt that he should be closer to Jaehwan. He wanted to be closer. Right by Jaehwan’s side.

And he realized that it was something that he had felt for a while. Maybe some time ago, that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Oh,” Minhyun said under his breath. He then smiled. “So that’s how it is.”

Their ships continued to pass by.

“Hyung? You okay?” Jaehwan waved at him. When the older doctor didn’t answer, he began to walk down the deck, following the other ship’s direction, making sure his eyes were still on Minhyun. “Um, hyung, I think you should get back here now.”

Still no answer. The ships were starting to get farther apart. Soon they would completely pass by each other, heading off in opposite directions. Jaehwan began to run. “Hyung! Now, hyung! You’re gonna get out of range soon! You won’t be able to teleport back!”

It was then that Minhyun saw how close Jaehwan was getting to the back of the ship— to the railings. That snapped him out of his daze. He quickly punched buttons on his wristwatch.

“DON’T ACTUALLY GO TO ANTARTICA, HYUNG, DON’T LIVE WITH THE PENGUINS.”

Minhyun pressed the last button and his vision went dark for a split second.

Then everything came back into sharp focus as his feet touched the deck of the client’s ship. He heard loud, running footsteps.

Jaehwan crashed right into him.

Minhyun nearly lost his balance. He took a step back, anchoring himself.

“Damnit, hyung, you scared me!”

Jaehwan was clinging tightly onto him now, as if afraid Minhyun might disappear again.

The older doctor finally spoke. “You scared me. I just got here and you’re already running into me.”

“My eyes were on the other ship, I didn’t see where I was going! You were almost out of range, hyung!”

“We could’ve restarted the memory and I’d be back here. I wouldn’t actually be stuck on that ship.”

Jaehwan shook his head. “Excuse me, but I was a bit too freaked out for my mind to be working correctly! I thought you were really going somewhere. Damnit, hyung, what were you thinking?”

How long have I been in love with you? Minhyun thought, the question still clear in his head as he stared at the boy in front of him.

But what Minhyun said was, “I’m not going anywhere.” He then returned Jaehwan’s weird, clingy hug— as if to prove his point that he was staying right there. “I won’t go anywhere.”

“Good.”

Minhyun couldn’t stop smiling— because having the other doctor in his arms like this just further confirmed his feelings and thoughts.

He didn’t want to let go.

 

 

(And maybe he wouldn’t have, if Jaehwan hadn’t pulled away first, telling him that they needed to head back to their client.)

(Their client woke up another twenty minutes later, and they finished fulfilling his wish in the next two hours.)

(A month later, after being deemed too unstable for use, the "teleporting" feature was discontinued.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Months and months passed after that. The seasons changed and autumn arrived.

And Minhyun continued to keep the feeling close to his heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

---

 

 

 

 

SIGMUND TIMELINE:
Kang Daniel – 33 years old

 

The fireworks continued to explode in the sky.

It was a weird time for reminiscing, yet that was what Minhyun did. He just couldn’t shake off the thought of a small light in the sea’s horizon— a light that looked like nothing but a small, bright dot.

But if one were to look closer, they’d see that there were two doctors in white lab coats there, on the deck of an empty ship. And one of the doctors was smiling, wondering what sort of story would come next.

And this was the story— his feelings that continued to grow, and also his uncertainty of what to do, and the hurt that came with it.

Confessing seemed so easy in his mind. Yet when the time came and he had Jaehwan in front of him, the fear would take over. The fear of unreciprocated feelings, of destroying the comfort that they already had, of never being able to go back to being them.

Over the year and months, they had built something together. A space for them. A place for them to always come back to. Not a physical place, but just a sense— a sense of being with each other.

Minhyun thought that he should have been satisfied with what they already had. To work with Jaehwan and spend those little, seemingly unimportant moments together during their free time. To just have him there as his work partner, his roommate, his friend, as Jaehwan.

And Minhyun thought he was selfish for wanting more.

Yet the urge to tell the younger boy how he felt would emerge again. But he would push it back again. Again and again.

The feeling was stronger now. As he held Jaehwan’s hand, seeing the fireworks’ glow on his face, Minhyun felt so sure. He would take the plunge.

It was just three words, but why wouldn’t they leave his mouth?

And then he remembered again. It was because he was afraid. He was simply afraid.

In a way, he was thankful for the fireworks. For giving him the time for that one moment of clarity— to remind him that this was enough. Or at least he would continue to convince himself.

So he let go.

His hand dropped to his side, and so did Jaehwan’s. Meanwhile, the lights continued to explode in the sky. And continued to do so for the next minute.

When the last firework fizzled out and the sky returned to its opaque black, Jaehwan turned back to look at him, and Minhyun felt himself breaking a little more.

“Sorry, hyung, did you want to tell me something?”

Minhyun shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Jaehwan frowned. “Now I’m curious. What is it?”

Trying to ignore how heavy his words felt, Minhyun answered, “It’s just...” He paused. “I’m just glad to have you here with me.”

There was another pause as Jaehwan seemed to think. Then he smiled. “I’m glad to have you with me too, hyung.”

And Minhyun tried to smile back.

This should be enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

Author's end notes:

It’s alright. It’s just a passing downpour.