he certainly reads them. at least, a few.
shoves his phone back into his coat pocket like laying a fucking brick. no plan to take it back out ( he does, at least once more, against best judgement ) his expression so unkindly and inhospitable, a wintry of inviolability that was never there before. everyone in the halls of ymmc accustomed to sliding out of his way like they were all cogs and he was such a vital piece that they all naturally just moved around him. he kept everything running smoothly, all of the pieces working there stayed in tact, in place, as long as he could remain unblocked on his path. lee jaeho stalking the halls, a methodical pattern to his movement when he assuming the role of healer, or of the Lee in the building ( in the lack of his father’s presence )it wasn’t out of the ordinary. it was commonplace to see him briskly chasing a cool line, what wasn’t so usual, was the was his usually assessing ( but ultimately harmless searching, doing his job, keeping things in line ) had turned sharp, a gleam to his gaze, like the sharp side of a blade catching the light. the way every look implied he was searching for a loose thread to cut loose. and it isn’t any of the staff that were at fault. ( his phone buzzes ! again ) the muscle of his jaw jumps in place and a healer that he turns to a little too fast freezes in place ( stop messaging ) “transfer the moon patient to C1, send in hanbin. he’s doing much better ; he can handle this.” he implies she should move out of hanbin’s way and give him the lead with his tone and she picks it up, he sees in her gaze. the way she bobbles a nod an of course. and he takes off, sheathes the blade and everyone keeps their job today( buzz ! ) his expression is stone.
her name is minhee ( his father had called him to deliver the happy news at dusk, nearly 6pm) jaeho thinks of the name. it sounds nothing like choa. that’s okay, for the best, really. he goes to sleep without looking at the remainder of the messages. even in his sleep he frowns.
this time, he leaves his phone in his office. he’s tired of the buzzing ( the way it makes things feel urgent, gives the stakes of not answering a hum of recognition that leaves his fingers tingling ) and by the time he returns to said office, he’s missed more. haunting near his desk, wondering if he even wants to look. eventually, he can’t avoid it any longer. he should stop behaving this way, it isn’t in his nature to run from things, so it’s with a cool swipe that he listens to the voicemail.
and it’s with a much, much cooler frost to his expression that he slips on his jacket and apparates nearby to her. everything in him is tensed with something supremely controlled to a point of snapping as he finds his way there, peels open the door and his expression he meant to be neutral garners him at least a few double takes.
he spots her instantaneously. her favorite all the way to the exact section she preferred. his eyes jump over her features, it feels nostalgic, and sad. watching the last episode of a drama, saying goodbye to a loved one before they move. he doesn’t ask to sit down just does. doesn’t say a word until he’s propped primly in his chair, leg crossed over the other, the dent between his brows leading a gruff, “hey,” there’s no pretext to the somewhat grim way he doesn’t feel like he needs to explain to her something is wrong. they had played this game too long not to know. she’s too damn smart. “i’m not free, but i made some time.” he curtly throws the words onto the table, “would you like to eat lunch?” it sounds more miserly than it should, but he means it.
she had been lost in thought, her gaze peering through the glass of the tea shoppe aimlessly when she had been forcibly removed from them by his sudden appearance. his frosty expression doesn’t match his youthful countenance, and it’s because of this that she immediately knows that something is wrong. anxiety flutters in her stomach like butterflies as dread encases her heart in a cold, vice-like grip, but she masks the trepidation she feels with an equally cool expression of her own. the only sign telltale sign of her apprehension could be seen in the minute trembling of her hands, which she moves off the table and settles into her lap. she doesn’t want to give away how unnerved she is, though he probably realizes anyway. he’s known her long enough to read her like an open book, much to her chagrin; she can’t hide anything from him.
“hello, jaeho—” she says in greeting after a moment of terse silence. once she trusts her hands to cease their tremors, she pulls out the menus tucked behind the small condiment rack to the side. she passes one his way, eyes glossing over the words; unseeing “—sorry if i pulled you away from anything important. thank you, for making time to see me anyway—” the words feel like ashes in her throat ( suffocating her with every inhale ) but she manages to speak with a wan smile. she turns her eyes back unto the menu, secretively peering over the laminated paper to observe him. she notes the frown that mars his face, the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he looks as if he would rather be anywhere else than here, with her. it dawns on her then, that this was it for them—the end she had known would come along since the start. that very notion is her undoing; it unravels her. letting the menu fall from her hands unto the floor, she stands abruptly, metal chair screeching against the wooden floors. she can’t stomach lunch now that the seed has been planted, the idea that grows ever more powerful every second she looks at him. tears prick at her eyes, threatening to fall, so she turns away, collecting herself with deep breaths, wiping away the stray tear that managed to escape with the end of her sleeve ( she only hopes he doesn’t notice, or it’d only make it harder for her ) “i’m not very hungry. how about we go for a walk instead ?—” at least side by side, she wouldn’t need to look at him wordlessly answering all her fears. ( endure, endure, just endure and it’ll all be over ) sucking in a shaky breath, she grabs her bag from the back of her chair, placing it on her shoulder as she makes her way towards the exit, not waiting to see if he follows her. she didn’t want to do this here, not with so many prying eyes watching them, sitting at the edges of their seats to hear more of their conversation. if today would be their last, it would end on her terms; in a place that would be easily forgettable, somewhere she would walk past and never feel the pinprick of tears. she didn’t want this sad memory in the making to taint one of the few places that made her happy.
choa waits outside for him, and when she hears the door opening behind her, she turns to face him. with a jerk of her head sideways, she walks, letting her feet lead them wherever. once they were a safe distance from her favorite haunt, and in a part of the city she never frequents, choa speaks the thoughts that had whirled around in her head all throughout the few minutes they spent within the teahouse, “this is it, isn’t it ?—” she's unafraid to face whatever may come her way henceforth. she already knew the ending to this story, now she merely had to play her part in it “—i always knew that this day would come, always dreaded it, really. but now that we’re here, i feel...so calm—” a watery smile spreads over quivering lips, she wraps her coat tighter around her, as if it were the glue that would hold her together once this was all over and done with “—tell me, lee jaeho, this is the end, isn’t it ?”