chen

“Oh, right,” he nodded, taking a sideways glance at her. It made sense, she was generously kind, had an easy smile and spoke well - she suited the cafe scenery. A coffee would be good right now. “I like coffee. In fact, I think coffee is my version of a doctor - it’s the only thing that keeps me upright ... most of the time,” he smiled up at her from where he was haunched over his bike, one hand clutching at his aching ribs.  “Well, it takes a good hour by bike, so walking...” he sighed, then smiled at her reassuringly, pretending like there wasn’t a warm drip of blood sliding down the side of his face. He must have scraped his head pretty hard. “It’s not too far, but you should let me walk you home first, young  girl’s ought not to walk around by themselves, they might get hit by stray bikes, or the riders falling off of them.”

Another miserable, overrun night. How many times would Jongdae look down at his watch to find the numbers glaring back at him starting with 00:--. It was peculiarly dark this evening, for only just gone midnight, too - usually thee sky still had a shred of light touching it at this time of year : not much, a gleam of moonlight, a dusty grey scattering of clouds, the first few pinpricks of stars to poke their way through city smog. But it was eerily vacant tonight - the city was crawling with an unsightly fog that didn’t match the weather at all, and Jongdae was blearily wondering just how tired he was. Perhaps the last caffeine high was coming down harshly on him: was that fog, or just his watery tired eyes so unfocused everything seemed hazy? He couldn’t even tell at first.  It wasn’t until he could barely see two feet in front of him that Jongdae came to the conclusion that it was indeed an unseasonal fog swimming its way through the streets. His bike creaked as he slowed his pace to accustom it, the torch-light breaking the darkness meekly. It’s a good job he had that little light on his bike, or he might well have rolled right over the pair amidst the mist.  “Oh, geez,” Jongdae’s bike groaned and clattered in protest as he reeled to a stop, half falling and half leaping from it and letting it crash to the floor behind him. He could have sworn he had seen the woman’s hand on his throat, but he didn’t quite understand what he had seen, what the fog had obscured, what exactly was going on. He stumbled up to them, eyebrows raised as he addressed the woman. “Are you okay - is he okay? What’s -- good god,” Jongdae’s eyes widened, taking in the man - his lips were colourles, his vision unfocused. He looked near dead, as if he couldn’t breath. It didn’t take much to note the stench of alcohol and cigarettes, most likely there might have been a reaction to drugs or the alcohol in his system, but Jongdae wouldn’t be sure until he accessed him properly. “Do you know what happened to him?” He threw a glance to the woman.

"Fun? I must be the first doctor you've ever met," he laughed airily, shaking a hand in dismissal of the word fun. "It's not so bad, if you're good at not sleeping, if you like coffee, if you're good at creating bonds with people that have no attachments because you have to be their doctor, the person they can confide in, can trust, but you cannot be their friend. And everyone becomes a doctor to save people, right? But most of the time you’re not saving any body, you’re filling in the same piece of paperwork five times because it’s procedure, or you’re inspecting the fungi between someone’s toes. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m rambling again. I always talk too much.”  "The Joker, huh? I guess you could pull it off but - well, he’s a villain, isn’t he? I had you tagged as a superhero,” he chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. The white coat flapped about his sides, brushing just past his knees and the sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows to mask the fact it was just a bit too big for him. His father’s name was still imprinted on the inside of it’s collar, and it itched the back of his neck slightly as beads of sweat began to roll down his spine from the unrelenting heat. His eyebrows lifted above his glasses and Jongdae turned to look more directly at Jongin in shock. He was not sure what surprised him more: the age or the nurse.  “No kidding? A nurse? At my hospital - I mean, the hospital?” he pointed vaguely behind them to where the large wings of the hospital were beginning to grow distant down the street. His smile grew a little at the small connection they were forming. “So that makes three things in common: career, age, and secret super heroic identities - unless you’re sticking t the joker thing, in which case, that dutifully makes you my arch nemesis, I hope you know.” He grinned, leaning over to playfully nudge Jongin’s elbow with his own, although he didn’t quite make the connection and his elbow brushed only air next to the boy.

“Hey, trust me okay,” he smiled, hoping awkwardly off his bike, swinging his leg in front of him rather than behind him as he would naturally in an attempt not to touch her. With one hand, he held the bike steady, and with his other shoulder he inclined it to her - it was the only part of his arm he could offer her that wasn’t bare skin. He wasn’t fully certain it would be any better - whether she would be alright to touch the fabric of his shirt that clung so closely to his skin, but his backpack’s strap sat on his shoulder for her to grab again if needs be. He doubted, in actuality, that she needed any assistance getting off of his skinny little push bike anyway. “I swear, I won’t let anyone touch you, no one’s going to come near you with me around. I mean, look at me, who would want to mess with me?” He lifted his eyebrows and smiled at her with his most reassuring trust me, I’m chen! smile he had while flexing the bony arm he offered to her. As soon as she had gotten down from his bike, he pulled his backpack onto one shoulder to rummage the front pocket for his bike lock. “We can just stay in the shallow areas, you know, or we can go to the deeper areas - perhaps that’s better, no small children running amok there, yeah, the deep ends, you can borrow my arm band, if you want.” 

"Peak of my youth indeed," Jongdae chuckled as he rose out of his chair; the legs creaking behind him as they scraped across the wooden flooring. He scooped up most of the books from Hansol's own hands, leaving only one in the boy's clutches. He didn’t quite trust him with these books; they were fragile as it was, and heavy, too. Jongdae himself was no Schwarzenegger, but Hansol struck him as someone likely to trip over his own foot, and he didn’t want the books to be in his arms when he did.  “No, no, just Chen,” he corrected him hastily, then shook his head to himself, “I mean, yes, Jongdae is my name but - Chen, I prefer Chen.” The boy’s memory was remarkable to remember his name, he mused. He wondered if he had known his brother, then dismissed the thought. He kept his eyes on the rows of books, scanning the titles for the alphabetical order as he slotted the books in their places.  “Here,” he reaches for Hansol’s from him, sliding the last book into the shelf and turning back to the boy. “I don’t suppose you’ll know where we might find milkshakes?”

He awkwardly tried to turn his body away from her, in spite of the fact she was averting her eyes. He could not tell what was worse; the pain of his injuries or the pain of his own humiliation. He cleared his throat: it was one of the things he had to live with. But how would he cover this up? There’s no reasonable explanation for waking up completely naked, unless I claim a stag do or something. I won’t say anything, not until she asks...   He mulled over it until a small spray of water splashed him once more in the face, and he glanced over to see her blindly waving the open bottle about, her eyes searching anywhere but in his direction. He shook his head a little, releasing the little droplets of water free from the front of his hair from where she had dribbled it over him. He found it oddly relieving; slightly cooling in the humid weather.  “Oh, inside,” he repeated dully, his heart sinking a notch. Even if she were so kind as to lend him the blanket, that would likely mean either waiting here, naked, for her to return, or following her to her apartment, still naked, and neither option particularly appealed to him. He was bruised, a little bloody, probably several bones broken, he was certain a rib at least was sporting a few cracks. “Hm.” He leant back down again, closing his eyes. An awkward situation, but thinking of his injuries had inflamed the pain in his body. Perhaps he could just stay here, and sleep it off until night, where he could make his way home and perhaps no one would see him.  “Thank you,” he peeked over at her from the corner of his eye, then closed his eyes again with a subdued groan. “I think I’m okay, I think I’ll just lay here for a while, I think.” 

“Choi Hansol,” Jongdae repeated to himself, pretending to commit it to his memory. He doubted it would, but at least he would connect the word Hansol to endearing, he thought, as he watched the boy apologising to books. For a moment he let his mind wander back a few years to school, trying to fit his face into the time. Yes - there it was. A vague memory, a kindling of it, at the back of his mind.  “You make me feel old, Hansol,” he chuckles, reordering the books into one neat pile to the side. His voice felt like a whisper compared to the boys, who’s energy bounced from the walls of the conserved room.  Jongdae’s eyes flickered to the people in the room; mostly studying students casting dark looks in their direction, none of which compared to the receptionist’s looming glare. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked back at Hansol. “Do you think you could help me put my books back? I’ll buy you a cof-- uh, a milkshake, or something non-caffienated.” 

As used to it as he ought to be, the bike still wobbled dangerously under him at his shock. She said it so easily, like it was a normal, human thing to do. He shook his head and laughed at it. “Could you please at least try to be careful with yourself? For your good-friend-the-doctor-in-training’s peace of mind? No, that’s not okay, I’ll have to take a look at it when we get there, just to check for infections, if that’s okay with you.”  He wasn’t even sure if she was listening to him, having found the meat in his bag he was already certain that it would have taken most of her attention away from himself. But he clicked his tongue and pulled on the breaks of his bike, earning a little squeak from the tires in protest of stopping. On the side of the street loomed the entrance to Seoul’s Water Park. He could smell the chlorine from here, and it seemed to him as though water reflections rippled from the building itself. He grinned, looking up at the blue lettered building front, and glancing over his shoulder at his friend.  “We’re here!” He exclaimed, all excitement and wide smiles, only tinged with a small fear that she would truly hate the idea - he knew it was a long shot. Suddenly his eyes widened a little innocently. “Water is okay, right? It won’t - you know, like, extinguish you, right?”

“Indeed, I do have an internship - it’s quite the trauma,” he smiled, running fingers through his hair in an effort to cool down. As Jongdae regarded Jongin, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy was, well, elsewhere. He would pause, and his underlying threats screamed ‘fear me fear me’ - perhaps Jongdae ought to fear him. It was slightly unnerving. He just came out of therapy, what did I expect? For him to be completely sound of mind? It’s not as if I’m perfect - whatever’s wrong with him, he probably doesn’t sprout feathers at the first sign of danger. It almost made Jongdae laugh, that he could be the judge of anyone, least of all this harmless boy.  “Passed a test? This ought to go on my resume, I hope the hospital accepts tests from strangers and/or patients,” he chuckled, rocking on his feet absently, dismissing all concerns as flippantly as Jongdae usually did. “I wouldn’t mind at all, there’s only so much enjoyment a man can get from staring at the walls and assisting the elderly patients to the bathrooms.”  He glanced around briefly before nodding to Jongin’s suggestion. Sunlight dappled the cemented ground with a green cast as two lines of tall trees over looked the street. It was not only lighter on the eyes, Jongdae was keen to keep in the comfort of the shade. Better not to send Jongin straight back into the hospital with dehydration or, as he suggested, sun stroke. He walked slowly beside his new companion, not entirely sure where exactly they were headed - he vaguely hoped it was somewhere that might sell sugary food.  “Oh, an accident? That’s lack-lusting, you ought to say something like ‘oh, I’m secretly an ice man’, like the one from Batman, you know? That would be much cooler than bleaching cream - which, by the way, be careful with that, it doesn’t sound healthy on your hair and if it got in your eyes, ah, that would burn,” he shook his head thoughtfully, watching his feet as he walked and talked until now, when he lifted his gaze again to look around idly.  “Therapist - I could never be one of those. I barely know how to order my own thoughts, let alone organise someone else’s. Oh no, I’m aspiring to be a ‘real’ doctor,” he held up two fingers, “twenty two - and you?”

“Thank you,” he answers awkwardly sincerely as he takes his bag from her, slipping it over one shoulder. It hangs heavily there, yet it’s better than spreading the weight of it on his other side. But when she enquires over it, he shakes his head and smiles at her, straightening his glasses at last.  “It’s just bruising, I’m sure, I feel nothing to indicate any internal bleeding or anything serious- I’m alright,” still, he is thankful when she offers her hand for support.  By now, the small crowd that had formed to linger around and watch had dispersed, and Jongdae was achingly aware of all his pains and the way his bike wobbled chaotically with the bends in its body and the dents to its wheels. Unrideable. His heart winced at the sight of it.  “What do you do?” He asked Yuna suddenly, as nothing but a way of distraction from his misery. “It’s late, for you to be walking around a city alone.”

“Oh,” for a brief moment Jongdae was surprised, and offered his name with a dumbfounded doe-eyed gaze, “Chen - I’m, my name is Chen- are you sure? Were you not busy, going somewhere, doing something? I -”  His eyes widened behind his askew glasses as she began tending to his elbow. He winced a little, but shook his head wordlessly as she cleaned it then stared at her as she stood up again. “Oh - thank.. thank you, are you sure? What if you need that band-aid, you know blisters on your feet or something, I can get you one - I’ll get you one, and give it to you sometime, I mean if you want, to pay you back for this one. Because the hospital I work, that’s where I work, well no not work, intern, they have unlimited bandaids, well not unlimited but they have a lot, probably more than they’ll ever use because who goes to hospital for a bandaid? I’m sure they won’t miss one - sorry, I’m rambling, I do that, that’s, what I mean to say is thank you.” He took her hand, pulling himself and shaking his head, pretending that it didn’t hurt as much as it did. A burning sensation of pain ran down his side, too, and he mentally noted that it wasn’t just his elbow that he’d landed on. He looked back at Yuna with a slightly more composed smile. “Thank you, Yuna - I would appreciate it, if you showed me the way.” 

“You ought to be thanking me - it’s better that I fall off of my cute little bicycle than you fall off of that death trap you call a bike - I’m just taking your share of the falls, you know?” He frowned stubbornly as he pushed himself forward, kicking off the pedals. The bike wobbled dangerously for a moment, and the wheels never seemed to stay straight as he spurred it forward, but slowly they began picking up a bit of speed; enough for a light breeze to flutter through their hair and ripple Jongdae’s shirt. His frown turned into a playful grin and he glanced back of his shoulder. “You could say I’m falling for you.”  He laughed to himself - probably more than a man ought to at his own terrible, old school joke, but Jongdae was carelessly happy. Hani had trusted him enough to share a bike with him: it was a small victory to their friendship, he thought, and the gratitude of her trust was enough to have him making awful puns. “Come on, have a little more faith in me,” he chuckled at her tone, keeping his eyes forward now, turning here and therefore as he followed the bends in the road.  “Anyway, don’t judge me yet - you haven’t even seen what’s in the backpack,” he lifted one of his shoulders slightly to indicate the backpack he was carrying. Inside were a few threadbare pair of towels, a pair of goggles - one of which had a broken band, a single arm float, and to the brim of it he had packed several boxes of differing foods. The box of sweet foods was mostly for himself, but various tubs of cold meat and one with sushi were stored away in there for her. “Don’t say I don’t think of you!” 

Jongdae flinched a little at the term ‘monster’. It wasn’t one that he had dismissed for himself at first, after his first bird-transformation, but he had long come to terms with what he was and the word hadn’t passed through his mind in years. He preferred to pin himself somewhere in between Thor and Batman. Regardless, he looked at the boy with a mixture of confusion and scepticism. He didn’t look like a monster - sure, he had shockingly bright hair, and alright, Jongdae had rarely seen a therapist so shocked as the one they had left in the corridor. But he wasn’t exactly shouting at Jongdae now, he seemed relatively in  control of himself - though he noticed the little frown on the young boy’s forehead.  “Sort of - internship,” Jongdae lifted his hospital pass up briefly, letting it fall back down, his printed name falling the opposite way it should do. So - the boy had a trauma. It was hardly uncommon - why else would he need a therapist? Jongdae ought not to have been surprised, but he seemed so young for it. But... I was young, too. Reality has no discrepancies for age, he supposed.  “Chen,” he flashed another genuine smile, “pleasure to meet you Jongin. I’d put my safest bets on clueless, so you’re not going to frighten me away so easily - but, if you’d like me to leave, I understand. Just didn’t think you looked like you should be alone, you know? People do crazy things when they’re alone and hysterical -- not that you were hysterical, just, you know, emotions running high and...” Jongdae gave a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders, rubbing the back of his sweaty hair as words failed him. He went to fill his mouth with caffeine instead of tactless speeches, only to find his cup was now empty. “Hm. Perhaps we should take a walk,” he looked back up at Jongin again, after staring sadly into his empty cup for a few seconds and smiling easily at him again, “walking around cheers me up all the time. And you can tell me if that’s your natural hair colour on the way. Unless you have somewhere else to be - but I doubt that,  since it looked like your therapy session had time left on it.” 

He watched her door like a hawk until he saw her come running out, an easy smile spreading across his face as he lazily lifted a hand in greeting. The smile faltered at her remark of his bike, and he rolled his eyes. “I came off it again, mangled up real bad this time, and look,” he lifted the side of his shirt up to reveal his battle scars of the road: a graze across his ribs and a slowly fading bruise covering his side. He let the shirt fall back into place after his flaunting and shook his head with a disapproving frown.  “You know that thing is a death trap - have you any idea how many people come into the hospital because of motorbike related incidents on the road every day? Honestly Hani, one of these days I’ll have to make you follow me around for the day so you can see just how ‘perfectly safe’ those things really are,” throughout his rant he was adjusting his backpack to sit neatly over both his shoulders, and leaning as far forward on his bike as he could possibly allow. Once done, he looked back at her and nodded his head back at the saddle. “Do you think you could hold onto my backpack without bursting me into flames? Because it’s a far walk and bloody hot for walking far. If not, you might have to go get that metal trap of death with an engine of yours and follow me there.”  He grinned at her while abusing her motorbike, tipping his head to the side. “What’s this about kidnapping, anyway? You’re supposed to be excited, but of course you wouldn’t be,” he rolled his eyes again and his grin grew a little larger, “don’t worry, the chances of you hating this is pretty high, but you’re with me, so you’re probably going to enjoy it and if you don’t I promise you have my permission to ignore all phone calls from me for the next two weeks. Deal?”