#dts drabbles

“Mrs Y/l/n?” A nurse holding a clipboard calls your name across the room, although the prefix catches you off guard at first. You blink a few times before realising she means you, gathering Iseul in your arms before grabbing your purse to follow her. Iseul wraps his arms around your neck, snuggling into your chest and whining at the movement.

“It’s Miss Y/l/n,” you say as politely as you can, offering a smile before she can even begin to form an apology. “Don’t worry, most people assume. It’s okay. I’m used to it.” 

You briefly remember now how you used to meekly allow people to assume you were married just because you had a son despite the absence of a ring of your finger. It didn’t take long for you to start correcting people, however, taking pride in everything you were achieving as a single mother rather than submitting to society’s attempts to shame you for not being with the father, let alone not being married. But when you’d found out you were pregnant just a few months into your last relationship, your still-new boyfriend had panicked and scarpered, so you felt no remorse at not being with him considering how easily he’d left you on your own.  

The very second Iseul was put into your arms at his birth, you were besotted, and you’d known then, as long as you had your son by your side, you could face anything the world had to throw at you. The last three years haven't been easy by any means, juggling motherhood and your career, but you couldn’t even imagine now what your life would be like now without your son.

The nurse shows you into a consultation room, telling you the doctor will be with you in a moment before she leaves. You lay Iseul down on the examination bed and unwrap his hands from your neck despite his complaints, taking them in one of yours instead as you sit beside him. You stroke his hair softly, pushing it away from his forehead as you do so, and hum the sweetest melody you know. Your mother used to sing it to you when you were a child and the tune immediately came back to your memory when Iseul was born, as if it were a secret song only mothers knew. It has always settled him and you take comfort in the fact that you can at least give him that when your medicines haven’t worked.

As he gazes up at you, his face red and watery eyes shining under the fluorescent lights, you feel a sharp tug at the ever-present pull on your heart. It’s like a thread immediately unravelled in your heart when you gave birth to him, the other end attached to your son, pulling you towards him no matter where either of you were. You wish you could help him, that you didn’t have to bring him into the hospital environment that you hate so much at three in the morning, but you know this is what’s best for him. 

The door suddenly opens behind you, making you jump slightly, and you turn to see the doctor walk in. You’re not sure if he looks so tall because you’re sitting down or if he really is that tall, but you immediately notice how you’re surprised that the small smile on his face actually reaches his eyes as he walks over to the desk on the other side of the room, white coat billowing out behind him. 

Your last experience with a hospital doctor was when Iseul was born and, despite it being one of the greatest moments of your life, you can’t help the ghost of shame that creeps up your spine when you remember the way your doctor spoke to and about you. Yes, you’d been young, single and with your mother instead of the baby’s father, but you’d never expected such an emotionally detached reaction from the doctor. The nurses had looked after you incredibly, always making sure you were comfortable before and after Iseul’s arrival, but you’d never forget overhearing the doctor as he left, his assertion that he had another baby to deliver - this time to a “proper family”. Ever since, you’d had a wary disposition against doctors, constantly on alert that they would tell you that you were doing things wrong by being a single mother and not granting Iseul a male presence in his life, as if that were the most valuable thing in the world.

But this doctor seems a lot younger and, while you try not to let any prejudice shape your opinion, you can’t help but think he looks much more welcoming than any doctor you’ve met before. Maybe it’s because he’s a paediatrician, or maybe it’s the way his dark eyes seem to be permanently shining with a smile, but you instantly feel your own wariness beginning to ease. 

It’s possibly also because he’s really quite attractive. He really does seem to be that tall and you note that the broadness of his shoulders is also not a trick of perspective. His dark hair sits just over his eyebrows, bringing your attention down to his large, dark brown eyes as they read the file that was left on the desk for him. Under his white coat is a simple white shirt, but it’s the tie that catches your attention: it’s bright red, not dissimilar to the red fire truck toy Iseul has at home, but it’s covered in little white hearts. You catch yourself smiling before he looks up at you, turning away and hoping he doesn’t notice any dusting on your cheeks.

“Who do we have here then?” he asks as he comes over to the bed holding the file, eyes already searching for every visual clue he can find to help him diagnose your son.

“Iseul,” you say with a brief flash of a small smile to the doctor before turning to your son, repeating his name and trying to coax Iseul out from hiding his eyes under his arms. He’d immediately crossed them over his face when you’d let go at the entrance of the doctor, shielding his eyes from the bright lights above him. 

The doctor, however, seems unperturbed by your son’s reluctance to look at him. 

“Ah, hello Iseul,” he says, carrying on as normal as he pulls over the chair by the desk and takes a seat, tucking his coat underneath him out of habit. “My name is Dr Kim, but you can call me Seokjin, if you like.” When Iseul still doesn’t look at him, Seokjin smiles sympathetically and turns to you. “So, Mum, what seems to be the problem?” 

You’re ashamed that being on the end of his direct gaze makes you a different kind of nervous than you expected when you came to the hospital, especially when your son is lying on the bed beside you. Shaking your head slightly, you miss the smirk on the doctor’s face as you turn to your child. 

“Uh, he’s had a high temperature for the last few days,” you say, placing a protective hand on his tummy, “ He keeps saying his head hurts, but paracetamol doesn’t seem to help much and I worry about giving him too much. He’s been off his food, too, even when I make his favourites, and he’s been sick a few times.” 

Seokjin nods as he takes a few notes, adding to what’s already written in the file in his hand. You can’t figure out if his blank expression is solemn or just concentration and it makes your heart beat a little faster for the little boy under your hand. 

“Iseul, buddy, is it alright if I take your temperature?” 

Your son shakes his head under his arms before whimpering at the movement.  

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you coo. “Doctor Kim’s gonna make you feel better, okay?”

“I sure am,” Seokjin’s voice is confident but warm and almost playful and you feel a flutter of relief when you see Iseul’s eyes peek out from under his arms and flicker towards him. “Do you think you can sit up for me?” Iseul’s not had much experience with doctors, not any that he would remember, anyway, and you don’t want to pass on your hesitancy, so you smile and nod encouragingly when he finally looks to you for reassurance. 

Iseul thinks for a few seconds before he reaches out for you and you help him to sit up, wrapping your arm around him so that he can shuffle up to your side. You see his eyes widen as he takes in Seokjin’s full appearance for the first time, his attention immediately drawn to the shiny stethoscope around the doctor’s neck. 

“You gonna let Doctor check your temperature?” you squeeze his shoulder lightly and stroke his hair again as he watches Seokjin curiously, his eyes constantly drifting down to the instrument around the doctor’s neck.

“All you gotta do is hold this under your tongue for me for a few seconds, okay?” Seokjin tells him, showing him a small thermometer, and your son nods shyly, still sniffling slightly. “Fabulous,” Seokjin praises his cooperation and you grin at the little smile that creeps onto your son’s face. “Now, let’s see how wide you can open your mouth, shall we?” Iseul makes a large ‘O’ with his lips, making both you and the doctor chuckle. “Oh, I know a grown boy like you can do better than that!” Seokjin teases and Iseul proves him right, allowing the doctor to slip the thermometer under his tongue. “Now, see if you can hold that perfectly still for me - without biting it,” he quickly adds, knowing most children are immediately tempted to do just that. “Pretend it’s a straw, okay?” Iseul does as he’s told, looking up at you before crossing his eyes to look down his nose at the thermometer. 

“Good job, baby,” you encourage him as he keeps flicking his eyes between you and the instrument. You press a kiss to the top of his dark brown hair and are relieved to feel that his temperature has lessened slightly, even if only temporarily.

“Let me see?” Doctor Kim leans over and you watch him take note of the temperature before taking the thermometer from Iseul’s mouth and laying it gently on a tray beside the bed. “Excellent, I knew you could do it!” He offers Iseul a high five, which your son eagerly grants him with more enthusiasm than you’ve seen in him lately and it makes your heart swell just that little bit more. Seokjin carefully takes his stethoscope from around his neck and holds it in his lap before leaning forward conspiratorially. “Now, as you were such a good boy, I’m allowed to show you a little bit of magic… would you like to see it?” 

Iseul nods but then frowns, glancing at you before looking back to Dr Kim.

“Mummy can’t watch, though.” A cry of indignation escapes you at your son’s words, but Seokjin simply laughs.

“No?” Iseul shakes his head with a solemn expression, as if it pains him to speak the truth, and Seokjin continues to humour him, despite the splutters of objection you’re trying to swallow. “And why’s that?”

“Mummy hasn’t been a good girl,” your son states this like it’s obvious, much to Seokjin’s amusement.

“Excuse me?” you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, a million thoughts flying through your head and a slight stab of betrayal in your heart, although you weren’t even sure what he’d be talking about. Sure, you enjoyed a glass of wine or two on a Friday night, but you always made sure to tidy everything away before your son awoke for breakfast the next morning. You didn’t swear in front of him. You hadn’t had anyone other than your closest friends over to your house since Iseul was born, and the three dates you’d tried had ended at the front step.

“Oh dear,” Seokjin sighs, although a playful smirk tugs at his lips as he looks at you, dark eyes shining like jet as he quickly looks you from head to toe. “Mummy’s been a bad girl, huh?” 

An aggressive blush fills your cheeks and you suddenly feel like the little room is overheating, too stuffy to breathe properly as the devilishly handsome doctor in front of you simply quirks an eyebrow. ‘Stop flirting with the doctor!’ you berate yourself. ‘You’re here for your son!’ Your eyes involuntarily drop down to Seokjin’s hands, but his left hand is tucked neatly under his right over the top of his stethoscope, so you can’t see if a ring sits on his finger or not. You presume he is married, though, or at least dating someone, given how absolutely perfect he seems to be. 

“...no,” Iseul says, looking up to the ceiling as if deep in thought and you recognise it as the way he tries to avoid looking at you when you’ve caught him trying to lie, and Seokjin looks back to him as soon as he speaks. “But she hasn’t done nothing good, neither! I had the ‘mometer in my mouth, she didn’t.”

“Ahh, I see,” Seokjin nods sagely, his hand pressed to his chin and the other folded across his chest, pouting slightly as he considers Iseul’s argument. “You make a good point,” he says, “how about this, then - I show you the magic, and then you can show Mummy?” 

“You’ll teach me?” Iseul’s eyes light up, not even illness getting in the way of his love for magic tricks - especially magic tricks he can perform for you. 

“Of course!” Seokjin grins, “although I’m sure you’ll do it first try no problem.” He looks to you and winks quickly, lifting the stethoscope slightly to signal to you what he was planning, and you return the slightest nod you can manage without drawing your son’s attention. “You ready?” he asks your son, who immediately turns to you and pushes at your arm. 

“Don’t look, Mummy! Not allowed!”

Happy to see your son with more energy, you play along for his benefit, dramatically sighing and turning your body slightly so that he thinks you aren’t watching. You can, however, see his reflection in the glass-lined cabinet on the other side of the room, and watch as Seokjin presents the stethoscope to your son. 

“Now this,” he says, and you smile at the way he softens his voice to make it sound much more fantastical for Iseul, “is a very special thing. It lets you hear a person’s heart.”

“Wow! Really?” Reflection-Iseul leans forward slightly and puts his hand out, reaching out to touch the stethoscope before retracting his hand, as if he might break the magic if he does. His eyes are wide and awestruck despite the traces of illness still lingering in his reddened cheeks and dampened hairline.

“Really. How about I show you how it’s done, and then you can try it on Mummy?”  Your son’s reflection nods as avidly as he can without hurting himself, although you still see the traces of a frown pull at his brow when he does so. Seokjin puts the earpieces in before taking hold of the other end, showing it to Iseul and explaining that this is the magic piece that lets him hear people’s hearts. He explains that the heart can only be heard by good, kind people who care about others, which is why they all become doctors and nurses, before pointing to the part of Iseul’s chest he’s going to listen to and telling him he has to sit still for it to work.

And it works without a hitch, Iseul watching, amazed, as Seokjin listens to his heartbeat. After a few seconds, Seokjin starts nodding to himself and then pulls away. 

“Yep, seems like we’ve got a good heart in there,” he says, putting the stethoscope back in his lap as he takes some notes. “You should be able to do this magic no problem.”

A tugging at your sleeve encourages you to turn around, fistfuls of your jacket sleeve in your son’s hands, and you smile down at your son.

“Did you see the magic?” you ask him, and he is all but bouncing on the bed. 

“I did! Dr Seokjin says I’ve got a good heart and I can do the magic, too!”

You look at the doctor in question, catching him watching your interaction with your son with a warmth in his eyes before he notices you looking at him and looks back down at his papers, clearing his throat. You refrain from smirking at the blush on his cheeks and turn back to your son.

“Wow, really? You can do magic? Can you show me?” 

Without any further prompting needed, Seokjin lends forward as he removes the stethoscope once again, this time scooting his chair closer to the bed. He offers the chest piece to Iseul, telling him to hold onto it while he moves to put the earpieces in place. He plans to hold them rather than letting them press on Iseul’s young ears, but as soon as even the slightest pressure touches his ears, Iseul shrieks and drops his end of the stethoscope. He pushes Seokjin’s hands away and covers his ears with his own, burying his face into your side.  

You’re immediately panicking, but Seokjin quickly retracts the stethoscope and drops it to the bed, nothing more than a brief frown furrowing his brow before he reaches into his pocket to pull out a small instrument. 

“Do your ears hurt, Iseul?” Your son nods against you, your arms already wrapped around him. “Can I have a look?” You expect your son to scream in refusal given the fact that Seokjin’s last instrument caused the pain in the first place, but you’re surprised when your son simply nods again, rubbing his eyes as he sits up again. Seokjin seems to have gained his trust incredibly quickly, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thrilled that he wasn’t holding his experience against the doctor. 

With the utmost care, Seokjin uses the tool in his hand to check Iseul’s ears before pulling away with a soft, yet somewhat relieved, sigh. 

“It appears that Iseul has an infection in his left ear, which explains everything you’ve said he’s been going through,” he says, turning to you briefly before rolling back over to the desk. “I’ll get some antibiotics sorted for him, and he’ll be as right as rain in no time.” 

The smile he gives you is reassuring, but you can’t bring yourself to smile back. You hold your son close as you curse yourself for not even thinking about the possibility of an ear infection, especially as it was now so obvious as you recalled Iseul’s increased habit of touching his ears over the last few days. He’d told you his head had been hurting, but you hadn’t realised he’d actually meant his ears. You feel a sinking in your chest at the idea that you’ve failed your own son, whose cries have now settled back down to hiccups, but Seokjin quickly catches on. 

“Hey,” his voice is soft, calling you out of your reverie. He doesn’t want to assume what you’re thinking, but he’s seen the same look on plenty of parents’ faces over the last few years and he can take a good guess. “He’ll be okay.”

You nod quietly, still frowning but somehow reassured by the simple statement. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” you say, rising to put your purse over your shoulder properly this time before lifting your son onto your hip. You take the signed prescription slip he offers you, ready to go off in search of someone to fill it for you, but he places a gentle hand on your arm to stop you. 

“You’re doing a good job, Miss Y/l/n,” he says softly, and it takes you a few seconds to realise he hasn’t immediately assumed you’re married. “Don’t pressure yourself, okay?” 

It’s been a long time since someone has outwardly praised you like this, especially a stranger, and it catches you off guard, your breath catching in your throat. Seokjin’s gaze flickers between your eyes for a few seconds, waiting until he’s sure you’ve taken him seriously, before he offers a gentle smile and removes his hand from your arm.

As you leave the examination room, Seokjin directs you to the hospital’s pharmacy and assures you that you should be able to pick up the antibiotics from them without an issue. He seems to hesitate, opening his mouth and closing it again before wishing you a good night and walking away, and you try not to think too much about the lingering flutter in your chest as you set off in your own direction. 

You sink back into your chair as you place your mug back on the table, directing your gaze out of the large floor-to-ceiling window to the high street just beyond it. You idly watch as the Saturday morning shoppers hurry back and forth, some families and couples lingering at shop windows as others push on to their next destination. The summer sun casts everything in a brightness that you can’t help but feel joy in, even as the sun’s rays are amplified through the glass and make your legs feel like they’re burning up. 

You turn back to look around the coffee shop you’re sat in, reminding yourself that you don’t have any reason to rush right now. The rare, stolen moment of unhurried peace that you haven’t felt in a long time is something you know you need to cherish, because in just over twenty-four hours your son will be coming home from his grandparents’ house, but it does feel strange to not have your son joyfully chattering across the table from you. 

Your mother had offered to let Iseul stay over at their for the weekend, half out of her love of spending time with her grandson and half out of concern for the way you were constantly rushed off of your feet, either from being a mother or from your job as a curator for the National History Museum. It was a small treat for you to be able to get a weekend to yourself and go shopping on your own, not having to worry about your son running in and out of changing rooms while you tried on new clothes, and you’ve decided to also indulge in a slightly overpriced coffee without having to rush while you have the chance. 

As your eyes skim down the line of patrons waiting to order, you think you recognise one of them but can’t quite place where you know him from. He’s tall, clearly several inches above the other people in the line, with dark hair sitting on top of a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. The light of his phone reflects in his lenses as he gazes down at it, avidly watching or reading whatever it is that’s caught his attention, and his lips are pushed out in a small pout in the midst of his concentration.

Despite the weather, he’s in black skinny jeans that look sinfully tight above the knees and bring further attention to his height, but you suppose the loose white t-shirt hanging off his broad shoulders must be helping him to stay rather cool-

Wait... incredibly tall, broad shoulders… it couldn’t be?

So lost is he in his phone, the man at the end of your gaze doesn’t notice the gap forming in front of him until the slightly elderly patron behind him clears his throat gently. You hear him apologise several times to the man behind him (who just smiles softly and tells him not to worry) and lets the man go up the counter first by way of an apology, and it’s only when you hear his voice that you realise who he is.

You’re pretty certain the jump in your heartbeat is cause for concern when you finally recognise him without the white coat. You start slightly, almost choking on nothing and quickly hide your reddening face by looking down at your drink, then out of the window again, then down to your phone. You bring up the home screen even though you know no one has texted you, desperate for something to do to put off looking up again, instead trying to figure out what had caused your reaction in the first place. 

Of course, he was attractive - in fact he was ridiculously so - and he had been kind to you and your son, but that was his job as a paediatrician. Maybe it was the way he’d reassured you, been one of the first strangers in a while to assuage your underlying fears that you weren’t adequate as a single mother, or perhaps it was that last lingering look that had stayed with you as he’d said goodbye in A&E-

“Miss Y/l/n?” Your thoughts are cut short by a voice beside you. Looking up, you see the broad-shouldered doctor standing beside your table, holding his own drink in a takeaway cup. He smiles when you look up at him, apparently happy to have recognised you.

“Dr Kim?” You immediately blush at the squeaky voice that tumbles out of your mouth, a hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Call me Seokjin, please,” he smiles, a gentle blush on his cheeks when he can’t quite meet your eyes, seemingly less confident outside of his hospital halls. “Sorry for interrupting, I just thought I’d come over and say hello.” 

In actual fact, he has no idea what made him come over to you. He sees his patients and their parents outside of the hospital all the time and never bats an eyelid, knowing it comes with the territory of working at the main hospital in the city, but when he’d seen you staring out of the window, a serene look on your face as you watched the people passing you by, he’d felt compelled to go over to you. So when the barista had handed him his drink, he’d followed his feet to stand beside your table. 

“How’s your son doing?”

“Iseul? He’s fine, thank you.” You think back to what he’d said to you before you’d made to leave. “He was right as rain in no time, just like you said.” God, why did that sound better in your head than it did out loud?

“I’m glad,” Seokjin’s eyes briefly disappear behind his glasses when he nods happily, the reflection of the light above him making the lens white until he looks down to you again. “I told you he would be.” He tries not to wince as he groans internally, cursing himself for being so awkward when it comes to small talk. It’s never been his strong point, which is why he likes working with children as they don’t do small talk either. He’d rather field all of their weird and wonderful thoughts and questions than talk to their parents about the weather or sports he doesn’t watch. 

You both fall into silence, still awkwardly smiling at each other without quite making eye contact. Your pulse is racing in your ears and you know it’s not the coffee.

“Would you like to join me?” You’re not quite sure where the offer comes from but you gesture to the chair on the other side of your table before you can help yourself. Seokjin’s eyes widen behind his lenses at your question and he looks at the chair with an expression that could be either pained or offended - you’re not quite sure. 

It takes a few seconds for you to remember that he’d ordered his drink to go, the takeaway cup taunting you from his hand as he shifts his weight from foot to foot and now you’re not sure whether to hastily backtrack or just wait for him to reject you. 

“Never mind-”

“I’d love to-”

You blink at each other when you speak at the same time, but luckily Seokjin blesses you with a chuckle rather and breaks the tension holding your heart hostage. 

“I wouldn’t be disturbing you?” he asks, and when you shake your head with a smile he takes the seat.

“You don’t have to, if you’re busy?” You point to his cup, wondering where he’d been planning on going with it, wondering if there was maybe a partner waiting for him somewhere on the street outside.

“Oh, no, I’m not busy,” he fiddles with the lid on his cup, suddenly shy as he admits, “I don’t really like sitting in cafes alone, so I tend to just get it to go instead.” He hesitates and then looks up at you, his gaze steady despite the blush of pink creeping down the side of his neck. “But I guess I’m not alone this time, though, am I?”

“You’re not,” you agree, delighting in the way his lips transform into the most adorable smile you’ve ever seen on a grown man. You decide then and there that, even if it’s only for today, you’re going to try and keep that smile on his face for as long as possible. Clearing your throat, you lean your arms against the table and meet his gaze when he looks over at you. “So, Seokjin-”

“Jin.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My friends call me Jin,” he clarifies and you feel another little skip in your chest, then he motions for you to continue speaking as he lifts his drink to take a sip and hide his own blushing cheeks.