Baekhyun sits cross-legged on the rug in the living room, head bent over his textbook on the coffee table, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. There are several other general and advanced medical textbooks left open at useful places, and papers and notes are piled up not only on the table, but also stacked in hopefully-relevant piles on the floor around him. Some of them are notes he’d taken back in university, neatly written with coloured highlighting making it easier to find important information. The older notes are a far cry from the more recent ones, dashed off much more haphazardly and without ruling lines or using highlighters or cute sticky notes. It’s been years since he had to prepare for an examination, and Baekhyun is finding that he seems to have fallen out of the habit of effective study, and it’s strangely hard to claw his way back.

He groans a little, elbows propped on the table and fingers running through his hair for the umpteenth time. It’s probably sticking straight up on end from all the clutching of it he’s been doing. His knees bounce restlessly as he reads and re-reads a line of anatomy and tries to connect the difficult words to what they actually mean. He knows all this stuff in practice, but somehow the theory is making his head feel like it’s been stuffed with cotton wool. He doesn’t remember it being this hard to memorize terminology when he’d been in university. He’s always prided himself on his excellent memory and being quick on the uptake. Why can’t he seem to focus properly?

“Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun flinches as someone puts a hand on his shoulder, his arm jerking and knocking a pile of papers to the floor. “Geez, Chanyeol, don’t creep up on me like that,” he says, shoving his glasses up his nose to stare reproachfully up at Chanyeol, one hand pressed to his thumping heart.

“I didn’t creep up on you,” Chanyeol protests. “I called your name twice already. That’s some serious focus you’ve got going on there.”

Baekhyun chews his lip, tapping his fingers against the table rapidly. He was trying to focus, but nothing was going in.

“I really didn’t hear you,” he says. “What is it?”

Chanyeol sits down beside him, puts his hand on the nape of Baekhyun’s neck and starts massaging one-handed. Baekhyun groans, melting into the motion. “God, that feels good.”

“You’re so tense,” Chanyeol says. Baekhyun just closes his eyes and lets Chanyeol work the stress out of his neck. “I just wanted to check you were doing okay. You looked really anxious before.”

“Did I?” Baekhyun mumbles. “I didn’t mean to. Studying is just horrible. I can’t seem to get my head in the game.” He opens his eyes and finds Chanyeol looking at him. “I swear it used to be easier to remember stuff than this. Am I getting old?” he jokes, but there’s real anxiety behind his words, and he knows Chanyeol sees it by the way his forehead furrows.

“You’ve been working flat-out since I left at 7 this morning, and it’s past 5.30 now,” Chanyeol points out. “The brain can only absorb so much at once, you know. Have you been taking breaks?”

Baekhyun didn’t realise it had been that long. He doesn’t feel like he’s accomplished anything at all.

“I need to make up for lost time,” he says, avoiding the subject of breaks, because he’s not supposed to get so stressed that even the thought of eating makes him nauseous any more. Chanyeol would only worry if he knew Baekhyun hadn’t been able to face eating today. “You know how much time I lost this year. I have to study like mad for the next few months if I’m going to pass my fellowship examination in October.” He turns back to his textbook on the table, but Chanyeol puts a large hand over Baekhyun’s delicate one, stilling his fingers in their frantic drumming against the table.

“All the same, I think you should stop for now,” Chanyeol says. “You’ve done a full day of study today, and you seem really wound up.”

Baekhyun grimaces, but he knows Chanyeol is right. He isn’t getting anywhere like this. He flops backwards until his back hits the couch behind them, slouching down. “It’s stressful,” he admits. “I know I can do the clinical stuff, but a hundred multiple-choice theory questions is no joke, and a lot of it is stuff that I never use in practice. You were stressed when you were studying for yours, too.”

“Don’t remind me,” Chanyeol says. “I’m so glad I stayed in general paediatrics and didn’t specialize further. Exams are the worst. But you’re usually good with exams, aren’t you?”

“I used to be,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t know what’s wrong with my brain these days. I can’t seem to concentrate like I used to.”

Chanyeol kneels up and starts gathering the papers Baekhyun had knocked onto the floor, shuffling them together and stacking them on the coffee table. “You could use the computer desk,” he says. “Yeonseok will move his crap if you ask him.”

“No, it’s okay,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t mind working here. It reminds me of uni, when our beds were nothing but lonely islands in a sea of revision. I swear I didn’t even know what colour our carpet was.”

Chanyeol laughs, putting the papers he’s gathered on the table. Baekhyun sees him go still for a moment as he looks at the top paper, then picks it up. Baekhyun sits up to look at it too. His stomach does a strange flip-flop when he sees what Chanyeol is holding.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” he says, reaching for the paper, but Chanyeol moves it further from his reach, fending him off with one hand.

“Baekhyun, this is not nothing,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun wants to facepalm for leaving the stupid form out among all his revision and crap. Just the form in itself wouldn’t be so bad, but Baekhyun remembers scribbling angrily on it, after he’d stared, pen in hand, for about ten minutes at the boxes and been unable to bring himself to fill them in. He can’t remember exactly what he wrote, but it wasn’t something he’d intended Chanyeol - or anyone - seeing.

“It is nothing,” Baekhyun insists. He reaches again for the form, and this time Chanyeol lets him take it. “Chief Seo gave it to me because she thinks I qualify, but I’m not going to apply for it, so it doesn’t matter.”

He glances down at the form in his hand. It has the logo of the Korean Society of Medical Education in the top left corner, and the title glares out at him from the top of the page, black-on-white characters bold and brutal as a punch to the gut. APPLICATION FOR REASONABLE ADJUSTMENT FOR DISABILITY.

He crumples it up in his fist so that he doesn’t have to see it anymore, nor the words he’s scrawled beneath it, pressing so hard he’d almost torn the paper; I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol looks hesitant, like he tends to get when talking about Baekhyun’s mental health. Baekhyun wishes he didn’t, because when have they ever had problems communicating or being open between them? They’ve always been so close. But he knows it’s his own fault that Chanyeol feels like he has to tread carefully. He’s reacted over-sensitively before, and considering how he’s feeling right now, he’s probably at risk of doing so again. He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a shaky sigh.

“Just say it,” he says softly. He feels his shoulders hunch as he curls a little on himself, instinctively, uselessly trying to protect himself. But how can he protect himself when it’s all coming from inside him? “I’m ing mental enough to qualify for a disability adjustment, and you think I should take it, don’t you.”

“Baek, don’t be cruel to yourself,” Chanyeol says gently. “This would mean the examination board will take your illness into consideration. That would be good, don’t you think? You wouldn’t have to worry so much about making up for the time you lost.”

“I hate it,” Baekhyun says bitterly. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to be seen as disabled, Chanyeol. I don’t want people thinking I’m ill. I’m not. Not anymore.”

He’s so curled up on himself that he senses, more than sees, Chanyeol shuffle closer to wrap his long arms around him. He relaxes into the hold, sighing a little as the worst of the stress and tension begins to leave him at the physical contact. Chanyeol knows so well what Baekhyun needs. It’s all he can do not to cling to his best friend like a small child.

“I know that, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says. “You’ve done so amazingly well to get to where you are, but you are still on medication, so...”

Baekhyun knows that too. He has been starting to truly resent the antidepressants lately. He almost has to choke them down, the way he had when he’d first been taking them, so much does he despise having to swallow the pills. He hasn’t told anyone this, because he isn’t stupid and he knows he needs to continue taking them until his psychiatrist, who knows better than Baekhyun what he needs in this regard, thinks it’s safe to begin tapering him down. But he hates the thought that his metal stability relies on drugs. He was stable before Nari broke up with him. Why can’t people see that he can be stable again?

“If it would make the stress of studying for this exam easier, I think Dr. Seo has a good point in suggesting it,” Chanyeol continues.

“It would be on my record, though,” Baekhyun says unhappily. “Any advanced fellowship program I applied for would see that I had an adjustment for disability. You know how competitive plastic surgery fellowships are. Nobody is going to pick me for their programme over a person with a clean bill of health.”

He feels Chanyeol sigh against him. He knows Chanyeol can’t refute it, because it’s true. Baekhyun would have his qualification, he’d have passed his general plastic surgery fellowship and be able to work as an attending surgeon, but he’d be competing with the best of the best for further education, and even the tiniest difference in grades makes a difference. Someone with a history of mental illness like his, someone who is still currently on antidepressants, would surely be far less desirable than any other candidate.

“Are you thinking of doing an advanced fellowship, then?” Chanyeol asks. “Burns?”

Baekhyun nods. “Either reconstructive burn surgery, or cosmetic surgery,” he says. “There’s a year-long course for both starting in February next year.”

“Cosmetic surgery?” Chanyeol asks, sounding surprised. “You’ve always been interested in burns, though, and you’ve done amazing work in that field already. Where did cosmetics come from, all of a sudden?”

Baekhyun smiles, some of his distress fading as he thinks of the reason behind his new interest in cosmetic surgery. “Lu Han’s been telling me a lot about it,” he says. “It would be fun to work in the same specialty.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol says, and then is oddly silent for so long that Baekhyun eventually sits up out of the hug to look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Chanyeol says. “About the disability adjustment - why don’t you think about it a little more before deciding? There’s always the option of deferring your exam, too. You could take it next year.”

“No,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to defer it. You and Jongdae both passed yours ages ago, I’m already way behind you guys.”

“Hey, what? Come on,” Chanyeol says. “You can’t compare it like that. Our fellowship programmes were only three years long, yours is six years. It doesn’t make sense to say you’re behind. That’s just the nature of your specialty.”

“You’re both still attendings, though, that’s the outcome no matter what the facts behind it are,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t want to let my stupid illness dictate my life. I want to make the next step in my career, and I can do it without disability adjustments or deferrals.”

“I know you can,” Chanyeol says. “But you still have to take care of yourself. Studying all day until you’re so anxious you can’t even sit still isn’t doing you any favours.”

“I know,” Baekhyun sighs. Chanyeol is right, as usual. “I’ll try. I just wish my stupid brain would get on board.”

He glances at the time and sees that it’s nearly six, and feels himself brighten up as he remembers tonight’s plans. He unfolds his limbs and starts crawling around to pick up all the papers from the carpet. “I have to stop now anyway and get ready for my date,” he says, the happiness bubbling over into his voice as the thought of Lu Han chases away the worry and stress.

“What are you guys doing tonight?” Chanyeol asks, stretching his long legs out under the coffee table.

“That date idea you suggested the other day,” Baekhyun says, stacking up his books so that there’s some free space on the coffee table. “N Seoul Tower. I can’t believe you lovebirds actually put a lock on the fence there, so cliche,” he teases, dodging when Chanyeol takes a good-natured swipe at him.

“Cliches exist for a reason,” Chanyeol tells him, grinning. “Find me a romantic heart that doesn’t flutter at the idea of the locks on the fence at Seoul Tower. You’ll get to see the city lights too since you’re going late, that’s going to be awesome.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” Baekhyun says happily. He and Lu Han have been alternating coming up with surprise date nights for each other each week. It’s fun not knowing where they’re going to end up, and Baekhyun loves planning the dates too, and Chanyeol is more than willing to provide ideas from what he and Yeonseok have done over the years. When everything is off the floor and vaguely neat, Chanyeol goes into the kitchen to start dinner for himself, as Yeonseok is on shift tonight, and Baekhyun goes into his room to shower and get ready.

An hour later, he scrambles into Lu Han’s car and leans across the gearbox for Lu Han’s kiss, unable to stop smiling as his boyfriend gives it to him without hesitation.

“I missed you,” he says.

“It’s only been a couple of days, puppy,” Lu Han teases, tapping his nose.

“I still missed you,” Baekhyun says. “Did you miss me?”

“I kept thinking about your pretty eyes while I was doing a double eyelid surgery today,” Lu Han tells him. “My client might end up looking like you.”

Baekhyun grins. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“It might be, when I want to kiss you every time I see them,” Lu Han says. “What if I start kissing my clients and get into trouble? You better take responsibility.”

“Maybe I’ll have to come work at your practice, keep you under control,” Baekhyun says. “I told you I’m taking my fellowship exam in October, right? Maybe I’ll specialize in cosmetic surgery and inflict myself upon your workday.”

Lu Han laughs. “You’re way too obsessed with burn reconstruction to get fulfilment from nose jobs, you won’t get anywhere near a private clinic,” he says, and Baekhyun feels a tiny quiver of self-doubt inside him. Chanyeol had basically said the same thing. Baekhyun himself would have said the same thing this time last year. Even a few months ago. He suddenly thinks of little Kang Minseo and her successful scalp graft, and how happy and confident she’d become after Baekhyun’s surgery had given her a full head of hair. He wants to help more people like her. But if he did cosmetic surgery, maybe he really would be able to work with Lu Han someday, see him all the time instead of just date nights, and they could discuss procedures and research, and go to conventions together...

“Anyway, tell me where I am driving, or we’ll be outside your apartment all evening,” Lu Han continues, and Baekhyun puts aside his uncertainty. Tonight is for having fun and being with the person who makes him happiest in the world.

Baekhyun gives Lu Han directions. They’re getting close to the small mountain of Namsan north of the river, topped by the tall tower, when Lu Han figures out where they’re going.

“Seoul Tower? Wait, the famous padlock fence?” he asks, laughing. “A romantic at heart, I see, Byun Baekhyun.”

“Chanyeol and Yeonseok have a lock there,” Baekhyun says. “He sent me a picture and bet me a week of doing the dishes that I couldn’t find it, so it’s our mission tonight to find it. Dishwashing makes my eczema hate me.”

“I haven’t been up there before, only seen photos,” Lu Han says. “How many locks are there?”

“About a million,” Baekhyun says glibly. His and Nari’s lock is up there somewhere, too. He shoves the thought away brutally. Lu Han’s eyes grow round.

“If we can’t find it, let’s just buy a lock the same and copy what they wrote on it from the picture Chanyeol gave you,” he says. Baekhyun turns to him, mouth dropping open.

“You are some kind of evil genius, huh,” he says, making Lu Han peal with laughter.

He directs Lu Han to the parking lot beneath the mountain and they get out. Mt. Namsan rises above them, clad in green forest, the pylons of the cable car marching their way up the steep slope with square enclosed cars bringing people up and down. Baekhyun takes Lu Han’s hand and starts pulling him over to the entrance to the cable car.

“We’re lucky, it looks like there’s not too many people here tonight,” he says. “The cars won’t be too crowded.”

“Good,” Lu Han says, but his voice sounds a little off to Baekhyun, lacking the confidence that Lu Han always carries himself with. Baekhyun turns to look at him, and sees that Lu Han’s eyes are fixed on the cables swooping up the steep mountainside, and his face is strangely pale.

Baekhyun stops dead in his tracks, horror seizing him as he understands what’s going on.

“I’m an idiot,” he says. “Lu Han, I’m such a ing idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Lu Han says, but his voice sounds distant, and he keeps on staring up at the cable car without looking at Baekhyun. He’s pale-skinned naturally, but right now he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“I am. I didn’t even think. It’s just such a part of visiting Seoul Tower that the heights thing never even occurred to me,” Baekhyun says. “I’m so sorry. I know how horrible phobias are, I should have thought -”

“Baekhyun, it’s okay,” Lu Han says, finally dragging his eyes from the cable car to send Baekhyun a smile. It’s shaky at the edges, and Baekhyun’s heart clenches. “I can handle it.”

“No, you don’t have to handle it,” Baekhyun says. “I’m not making you do something that scares you. We don’t have to anyway. There are hiking trails up the mountain too, through the trees. It’ll take longer to get up there, but exercise is good for you! It’s better this way!”

Lu Han looks so relieved that Baekhyun can’t help flinging his arms around him in a quick hug, uncaring that there are people around. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Lu Han asks. “I feel stupid, but -”

“Of course not!” Baekhyun says. “I haven’t climbed a mountain since a horrible high school camp I was forced to go on, but Namsan isn’t a very big mountain. How hard can it be, right?”

Lu Han grins at him. “Let’s find out,” he says.

They wander around for a while until they find a small trail leading through the trees, marked as a route to the top, and start their way up it.

Half an hour later, Baekhyun is regretting everything.

“I take it back,” he wheezes. “This is hard. How is climbing a mountain so hard? I think I’m going to cough my heart up.”

Lu Han turns around to grin at him, teeth flashing in the growing dusk below the trees. He’s not even breathing heavily, Baekhyun thinks reproachfully as he uses the break to bend over and catch his breath, hands on knees.

“You’re very talkative for someone who’s finding it hard,” Lu Han teases. “Save your breath for climbing, not wh