#nameun

“My face is always red and I’m always saying “whatever who cares” and “it’s better this way anyway” and I’m always looking away and my eyes are always avoiding yours“ - Fredward, the heart

***

There are so many things Namgyu can't tell her. Because he won't. Because he's scared. Because there are rules to shit like this. Of course there are. Why wouldn't there be?

Etched into the stone of his mind is a set of rules he has to follow, each one written in a hurry, like the words were running away from him—all vague and arbitrary and an absolute jumbled mess—his name scrawled hurriedly at the bottom in big letters, as if to say: approved by Kim Namgyu! He follows them like it's his fucking religion, like they're commandments handed down by something holy and not a cage that he's taken it upon himself to hide in.

Namgyu moves carefully, like he's on the edge of a cliff and not just driving down the street, a route he's been down countless times before.

He skirts around the feeling—the buzzing just beneath his skin—as the building comes into view. Myungshin University Medical Center.

He goes in, lets the sterile air of the hospital consume him, walks until the pleasant pink of the walls comes in to view, signs his name on the visiting form, waits.

The visit is pleasant, as it usually is. His brother—Kim Seowan—lights up at the very sight of him. They talk about nothing. Nonsensical statements about the River of Oblivion and quests and mana points and his latest encounters with 'the mediator' and 'the healer', along with other, less relevant NPCs, of course. He regards Namgyu as 'the assassin.' Namgyu listens with vague interest, smiles, nods, rolls his eyes (lovingly).

They sit there for what feels like forever.

In that room, surrounded by the deep, brown walls and sitting in the squishy, leather chairs, Kim Namgyu—the most impatient man in the world—momentarily learns the meaning of the word 'patience.'

Seowan babbles. Namgyu listens.

And then soon enough, the light dwindles slowly behind the window, reminding Namgyu of the unfortunate reality that is the passing of time.

He's thrust back outside. Visiting hours are over.

His momentary calm is gone, replaced with a dull ache and a thread of impatience creeping up his spine yet again.

As he sits outside the hospital, alone, his internal clock starts up again, and he makes a mental note of the next time he'll get to visit Seowan.

It went like this, most—all—of the time: work, see Seowan, be sad, work, see Seowan, be sad again.

This was his usual routine, and it wasn't often he strayed from it. Not that he had much choice.

Though, somewhat recently, there had been a new addition.

Jung Daeun.

One of Seowan's nurses.

And her relation to Namgyu? If he were to use one of Seowan's many terms—she was an NPC.

Or something.

It felt fitting to him. He didn't have any real connection towards her, no. She was just there now, someone he just so happens to see whenever he visited Seowan. And he just so happens to enjoy it, sometimes, too.

It was whatever.

Acquaintance wasn't the word, and "friend" sounded weird in his head. So NPC would have to do.

He only talks to her for Seowan's sake, anyways—a thought he repeats to himself over and over on the daily like it was a prayer, as if he was actively trying to convince himself of its authenticity.

Minutes crawl by. Daylight drains from the sky. Namgyu watches people walk in and out in droves, forming silent judgments in his own head to pass the time. The cool metal from the bench bites into him through the fabric of his jeans. He's waiting, but he won't say it.

He taps his foot, feels the goosebumps rising on his skin as the breeze kisses him, pretends it doesn't bother him. He shoves a hand in his pocket, the other going up to quickly brush his hair behind his ears. He looks down at himself, at the outfit he meticulously picked out (though the end result didn't reflect it much), a black shirt and baggy jeans. He'd purposefully worn this shirt—two sizes too small. He thought it made him look bigger, tougher. Sleeves just short enough to not obscure any of his tattoos but long enough to not look stupid.

He pretends not to count down the minutes in his head as he waits for her frame to enter the edges of his peripheral, because it means her shift has ended. Pretends he can't feel the warmth in his chest or the way his shoulders relax, an unlit cigarette dangling from his fingers, waiting patiently for her to snatch it. He holds it like a prop, at this point. He knows what she'll say.

She takes her spot next to him, just a breath away to where her shoulders are just barely grazing his sleeve.

"Uh-uh, that's bad for you, you know?"

His response comes easily, routine, like they're both actors reshooting the same scene for the hundredth time.

"Right. Are you gonna take it from me, then?" There's a smile in his voice.

He doesn't have to look to know that the answer is yes. He lets her take it, lets her toss it in the trash, lets her push a mint into his open, waiting palm.

He pops it into his mouth wordlessly, presses it to the roof of his mouth as the freshness floods his tongue. He asks her about her shift and she answers softly, as she usually does, a certain tiredness to her voice as she recounts it. He laughs. She asks him about his life. About what he does for work. He still doesn't tell her. She huffs, calls him annoying, but there's no real anger behind it. He knows she'll ask again next time. She knows that he knows it, too.

And when she checks her watch, looks up at him with that apologetic look in her eyes before offering him a quiet 'goodbye' that he knows is coming, he skirts around the fact that he starts to miss her even before she's fully gone. He watches her back until she's down the street, until she's turned into nothing but a blob. He squints to see her, trying to correct his vision, but he can't.

He skirts around it—everything she makes him feel. Matter of fact, he full on runs from it. Runs from it like it's some sort of rare, unknown disease. Runs from it like if he slows down he might actually have to stop and think about the reason why he does it. Why he feels the urge to ask her to stay, to keep the conversation going, to keep her there just a little bit longer, even when he has nothing to say.

It's like a cruel balancing act with an audience of one—living like this. His heart in one hand, bursting at the seams, and in the other, his pride, glowing and delicate, made of glass thin enough to be shattered with just one wrong look.

He toes the line delicately with his own words crammed in his throat, lips trembling as he tip-toes over eggshells that he's placed there himself like it might just fucking kill him not to.

Because, god, he's not used to this—the talking. The wanting to talk. Before he'd met her, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a conversation about something that held more weight than free drinks and hard drugs and VIP rooms.

They do it a lot—the talking. After every visit and sometimes in the gaps in between. He knows more about her than she knows about him. On purpose, of course, not because she doesn't care to ask, because she does. She really does. Just one more thing that Namgyu isn't used to. People asking questions about him and actually giving a shit to hear the answer.

When she asked him his favorite color during one of their post-shift walks, he was so shocked he almost choked on his mint.

"The fuck?"

She blinked at him.

"What?"

He just laughed, quick and breathless.

"My favorite color? Is that what you just asked?"

"...Yes?"

"Jesus. Are you five?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him, a bit taken aback by his defensiveness. It wasn't exactly the most invasive question in the world.

"I'm just curious!" She crossed her arms over her chest in mock offense. "Geez. You already won't tell me about your hobbies or where you work, is your favorite color seriously off limits too?" She shook her head, a small smile creeping into her voice as she quietly added, "Mr. 'too cool and mysterious to have a favorite color,' over here."

Namgyu should've been offended. She was mocking him, wasn't she? He'd certainly gotten into fights for less. Instead—he laughed. A small, sharp exhale through his nose, barely present but still there.

Daeun looked at him with a hint of surprise, a small smile still tugging at the corners of her lips.

Namgyu looked back at her, holding her gaze for just a second before he faced forward again, schooling his expression into something a little more neutral.

"Green, I guess. Or... blue. I wear a lot of black, though." He nibbled at his lip, suddenly feeling a bit awkward as he rubbed at the cool metal of his rings with the pads of his thumbs. "I mean... whatever. I don't fucking know."

He crunched his mint between his teeth in an attempt to hide his sudden nerves, the chalky powder quickly dissolving on his tongue as the soft sound of her laughter filled his ears.

Time had passed since then. More conversation and banter traded between the two. Safe to say, their topics had expanded past 'favorite colors,' and yet, he still refused to tell her a lot of things.

But he definitely thinks about it—a lot—pushes it down like it's something dirty, like it's something to feel guilty about, to hide. He holds it in his throat until it chokes him, clawing at his insides as if forcing him to feel the weight of every single word that he refuses to say.

"I like talking to you."

Because he does.

"What you do—it means everything to me. to Seowan."

Because it does.

"When you leave, I get kind of sad,"—he does—"and I'm fucking scared to think about why." He still is.

There's a chain on his neck, wrapped just below the apex of his Adam's apple, dizzyingly tight but invisible, weightless, and artificial. He tied it there himself, and he holds it in place like he was born with it, fixing it every time it starts to come loose. It squeezes him like a vice, pressing down on his larynx—carefully, so nothing gets out.

Because, fuck, there are rules to this. And he has to follow them.

***

The very first night Daeun was finally able to put a name to the face, the fluorescent lights seemed to be humming louder than usual, sterile and overworked as the evening crept in.

Namgyu was visiting Seowan, staying until visitation hours were completely over—down to the minute, of course—the usual.

He stood up from his chair, stretching a bit to ease the ache in his back. He gave Seowan a few awkward pats on the shoulder (his way of saying 'goodbye') before snatching the now-empty bag of candy off the table, Seowan's favorite. He made sure to bring it whenever the convenience store had it in stock.

"Oh, assassin, off on another quest already?" Seowan chirped with a grand flourish of his hands, eyeing Namgyu's movements with great interest, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

To Seowan—at least in his current state—he was the 'assassin' who brought him power ups and told him about side quests going on outside the temple—AKA, the hospital. Namgyu came whenever he was able, making time in between his shifts working at the club and the shifts he set aside for rotting in his bed.

However, it was time for Namgyu to go and time for Seowan to wait for him to come back—an unavoidable cutscene that no amount of gold or mana points could help him avoid.

"Yup. I am. See you soon, Seowan."

There was a beep behind him, followed by a nurse. They gently beckoned for Seowan to follow. Back to his room. It was time for the patients to start winding down for bed. Time for Namgyu to go home and pretend he didn't want to disappear.

He nodded at the nurse, tight-lipped and curt. A silent 'thanks.'

Seowan just stood at the door, watching Namgyu's back as he walked away.

He could feel Seowan's eyes on his back, but all he could do was keep walking. He sighed, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He turned it on, glancing at the screen with little interest as he thumbed through his notifications.

His crypto was tanking, like, really fucking tanking. Shit.

Besides that, his notifications were dry. He didn't really text anyone besides Seowan, and, well. Seowan clearly wasn't exactly in a state of mind to be texting anyone. Not like he had access to his phone, anyways. Their parents hadn't reached out recently, though they did everyone now and then. To check on Seowan. To pretend to check on Namgyu. The usual. A message from his boss—something about the club needing a new promotional poster. They'd pay him 15,000 won if he did it. Namgyu ignored it.

He'd long memorized the path to the exit by now, though he looked up for just a moment to make sure he didn't run into anyone, nearly halfway to the door. Suddenly, he remembered the empty bag of candy in his hand and took a small detour to a trash can by the nurse's station.

That's when he noticed her—a soft pink blob of movement in his periphery. His hand paused mid-air, fingers still gripping the crumpled plastic, a flicker of recognition.

He'd seen her before.

Jung Daeun.

Namgyu knew her name, though she had yet to learn his.

It never really seemed to leave his mind, though he insisted to himself that he didn't really care what it was. He just happened to know it and remember it. That was all.

She was the nurse from a few weeks prior, the one who convinced him to stay at the hospital after his overdose when he tried—and failed—to check himself out against medical advice, his hoodie yanked hastily over his hospital gown and the patient ID band still clinging to his wrist.

He jotted down her name in the margins of his mind during their first brief exchange. He remembered it like it was yesterday. His back pressed against the front desk. Her ID card swaying from side to side as she put herself between him and the exit doors.

Every time Namgyu thought about it, his face reddened involuntarily—his addiction bared to all of Korea. At least, that's what it fucking felt like. With the way everyone had looked at him that day, you'd think he was confessing to murder.

He remembered feeling angry at the sound of her voice behind him, remembered bracing himself against the front desk, teeth grit as he turned around, ready to yell at her, to tell her to fuck off and mind her own business. She was just a pink blob trying to intervene—another person sent by god to piss him off.

But when he turned, Namgyu blanched—all his former bluster hissing out of him like a popped balloon. She didn't look afraid. Or disgusted.

She was just... looking at him.

Just standing there. Looking.

Calm as ever.

As if it wasn't Namgyu she was standing in front of.

That was the only reason he'd listened when she urged him to stay. The only reason he let the ER staff push him back to his room to get the blood tests they wanted so fucking bad. The only reason her name had been swimming around in his mind for weeks. The only reason he kept seeing her face in the crowds at Club Pentagon—though it was never actually her, of course.

That was the only reason.

Really.

She hadn't noticed him yet, her attention fixed on a clip board in her hands. She mouthed the words to herself, as if committing them to memory. Her brow was furrowed, deep in concentration as she scribbled something.

It didn't fully register to Namgyu that he was staring—hard—until she looked up.

Her expression shifted almost immediately, the briefest flash of confusion flickering across her features before her eyes widened in recognition.

Namgyu went still, his mind suddenly stalling as he froze in place, now hyper-aware of the fact that he was being perceived.

He quickly disposed of his trash, albeit a bit rougher than necessary, brushing himself off quickly as he tried to pretend he didn't recognize her.

It was too late, of course.

"You," she said, her voice soft and light, more surprised than anything. She looked at him like he'd just walked out of a dream.

This was not like the usual.

Namgyu looked at her, unimpressed, already glancing back at his phone. He tapped at the screen, dragging his finger up and down like he had messages to look through. He opened the weather app, checked it. Like he gave a shit. Like his heart wasn't fucking racing. Because it wasn't. Because he didn't care that she recognized him just like he recognized her.

She was just some fucking nurse.

"Yeah," he muttered dryly. "Me."

She looked past Namgyu, eyes widening a bit as a realization dawned over her.

"Mediator!" Seowan yelled, suddenly filled with energy. He was still there at the end of the hall, watching and waiting for Namgyu's back to disappear through the doors. He grinned ear to ear, eyes bright as he took in the two of them standing just a few feet apart.

"The mediator and the assassin together in one quest?" he continued, voice rising a few octaves as he spoke.

He jumped up and down before attempting to make his way over to the two of them. He put a hand up to the nurse who'd been waiting with him, desperately trying to wriggle out of her grasp.

"Please—unhand me, this is an important cutscene—and I didn't think it would happen so soon!"

The nurse did her best to calm him down, reminding him that other patients were sleeping. She tugged him gently by his arm, trying to get him back to his room. The nurse mouthed a silent 'sorry' to Daeun.

Her jaw dropped. She gripped her clipboard tighter.

Somewhere, a lightbulb turned on.

"You—" Daeun breathed, her own excitement growing by the second, "You're the assassin?"

His face twitched, surprised and slightly irritated upon the name 'assassin' leaving someone else's lips—someone that wasn't his older brother. Namgyu continued to scroll on his weather app, chest tightening as he wondered if it was too late to just run outside.

He counted backwards from ten, praying that it would be enough time for a meteor to strike him dead.

It wasn't.

So instead, he replied— "Uh. Yeah." His voice cracked slightly. Barely. But enough for him to notice it. He wanted to die.

He finally looked up at her, meeting her gaze. His phone screen dimmed in his hand.

Behind them, another nurse had stepped in to help calm down Seowan. He was halfway down the hall by now, though he wasn't any less loud. His calls of "mediator!" and "assassin!" and "don't continue the cutscene without me!" echoed through the halls, only contained once the door to his room had finally closed.

The silence was awkward. To Namgyu, at least. He wasn't sure what to do next. Daeun was staring at him again, this time with a sense of bewilderment and... a hint of satisfaction. Like she'd found a piece of a puzzle without realizing she'd been looking for it.

She let one of her arms fall limply to her side, the other coming up to smack gently at her forehead.

A small laugh. Namgyu tensed. What the fuck was she laughing at?

"You're... Seowan's brother," she said slowly, and then, like it hit her all at once, "Oh. Oh my god. That's why. You look just like him."

Namgyu stiffened. Great. He shoved his phone in his pocket. Seowan was in his room. Visitation was over. His bed was calling to him like a siren.

There was nothing here for him, anymore.

A pause.

He responded out of obligation, anyways, gave her a slow, guarded nod. "Twins."

"Twins! That's so cool! When I first saw you, I—" She laughed to herself, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I remember thinking... 'how did Seowan get outside?'"

Namgyu didn't return her enthusiasm. His thin patience was starting to get even fucking thinner. He wasn't in the mood for small talk with someone he didn't know. Let alone, the girl who'd seen him in such a pathetic state, along with the fact that she knew his damn brother. He grimaced. The situation just kept getting better.

Daeun continued, "And then the next thing I thought was— 'did he always have long hair?'" She stepped a bit closer, still smiling. "It looks really good, by the way!"

Namgyu stiffened, the hallway seeming to narrow around them. For a second, he felt like he was knocked off balance. He looked up, meeting her eyes again as she looked at him expectantly, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. She was smiling. At him.

Something about her expression made him feel uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, but still. It felt weird being addressed so directly.

"Thanks," he muttered, lips tight.

He wasn't sure what the hell else to say, though he felt his face heat up at the compliment, flattered, despite himself. His anger was still there, but it was fizzling out slowly with no other place to go.

The silence that followed after lasted a few beats too long, stretching into something horribly awkward. Luckily, Daeun was the one to break it again.

"I really like Seowan. He's so sweet." She tilted her head a little. "So you came to see him today?"

He gave her a look that was half suspicion, half "why else would I be here." He barely nodded his head, remembering that he needed to give her a response. That's how conversations worked.

"Right," she said softly fidgeting with the pen in her hand. She glanced at the clock. "Do you always stay this late?"

"...Yeah." Silence.

She nodded at him, a small hum of acknowledgement.

"You work here," he asked suddenly, mostly to get the focus off of him and partly to contribute more than one word answers to what seemed to be turning into a full-blown 'conversation', now. It came out more like a statement than a question, though the answer seemed... kind of fucking obvious.

Namgyu mentally kicked himself.

"I do! Seowan's one of my patients. I transferred here a bit ago. It's been really nice working with him."

Another moment of silence that Namgyu wasn't sure of how to fill.

She looked at him a little longer, then opened her mouth slowly. Her words came out gentle, lower now so only they could hear. "Are you doing okay? After...?"

Namgyu's mind stalled, the momentary calm he felt from her earlier compliment dissipating from his body. His jaw tensed immediately.

What the fuck was she doing—asking him this?

Why was it her business? He was just here to visit Seowan. Like he always did. He didn't need anyone pitying him or pretending they gave a fuck. He was a grown ass man. He could handle himself without some random nurse trying to play therapist.

"Didn't die, if that's what you're asking." He snorted, trying to appear unbothered. However, his jaw was tight, a barely disguised edge slipping into his voice. "Obviously."

She gave him a flat look. "That's not what I was asking. I—"

He scoffed, cutting her off, "Are you, like, always this fucking nosey? I'm not your patient, who cares."

His words came out a little more aggressive than intended—too quick, too defensive. He wasn't about to apologize, though. He looked off the to the side, bewildered over the scene that was actively unfolding.

Why the fuck was he still here?

At that, Daeun paused, though she didn't flinch. She'd dealt with a lot during her time in this new unit. It was a lot harder to shake her now.

"No. You're not," she said carefully, sensing the shift in his demeanor. "But... you're the brother of one of my patients." She smiled at him again, her expression both gentle and sincere. "And I care about him. A lot."

It was a strange thing—being told, so simply, that you mattered by proxy.

Namgyu wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. A common theme during this whole interaction, it seemed.

She hesitated for a moment, then brought her clipboard closer, scribbled something.

"If it's not too much trouble, could I give you this?"

She held out a little scrap of paper, a corner she'd ripped off of one of her documents.

Namgyu stared at it like it was a trap. It was a phone number. Her phone number.

"...Why?"

She lowered her voice again, hushed and low so that only she and Namgyu could hear.

"I work with Seowan a lot. Nearly every day, now. And..." She looked around quickly, as if Seowan might materialize out of nowhere and hear her talking about him. "He gets sad on the days you don't visit."

Namgyu felt his chest tighten just a little.

"He's always talking about you." She waved her hand around, as if imitating his animated way of speaking. "Whenever there's a day that you don't come, he clams up, and it's hard to get him up. Sometimes, he even cries about how he's worried that you 'despawned.'"

If Namgyu wasn't so determined to maintain his blank expression, he might've laughed at the last part.

As if unaware of Namgyu's internal battle to pretend he didn't give a shit, Daeun continued, "You don't have to, of course. But if you were okay with it, could you text me a heads up of whenever your next visit is? I think it'd ease Seowan's mind a lot to have a day to look forward to."

She continued holding the paper up. Namgyu's expression didn't move, though his lips pressed into a tighter line. A few beats of silence.

"Or," she added after a moment, starting to take the hint, "If it's more comfortable with you, you could just call the hospital phone! I'm sure that the other nurses wouldn't mind passing the message to—"

Before her hand could shrink away completely, Namgyu snatched the paper from her, not meeting her eyes.

"Fine," he mumbled, barely looking at it as he stuffed it unceremoniously into his pocket.

Daeun smiled, a soft "Okay."

Then, "My name is Jung Daeun, by the way." Namgyu already knew. He wasn't gonna tell her that, though.

When he didn't respond, she quickly added, "And... what's yours?" Her voice was light, careful not to press too hard, but Namgyu heard the question before it fully landed.

He paused. Not like it was some fucking secret. Not like he cared too much if she knew his name. But because it felt weird. When was the last time someone actually gave a fuck to ask him what his name was?

Though the pause stretched much longer than any human being could think possible when following a question like 'what's your name?', Daeun just stood there. Patient. Expression soft, expectant, but not forcing, her hands clasped gently behind her back. The fluorescent lights of the hospital hummed a little louder, buzzed a little brighter, bleaching the pink of her uniform into a slightly lighter shade, making her look like something out a memory.

"Namgyu," he finally got out. His eyes flicked past her. "Kim Namgyu."

"Namgyu," she repeated. It felt weird, hearing his name on her lips. "It's nice to properly meet you."

And then she was gone. Namgyu watched as she turned into nothing but a pink blob in his vision, her ponytail bouncing as she disappeared down the hallway.

***

By the time the doors to the front entrance whispered shut behind him, Namgyu's heart still hadn't stopped racing. He exhaled like he'd been holding his breath the entire time.

He fumbled with his car keys for a few moments longer than necessary, breathing a sigh of relief once his back hit the leather seat. He shut the door with a dull thud. No music. No engine. Not yet. Just the quiet hum of the stillness pressing in around him.

He sat there for a moment in silence, lips tight as he contemplated his next move. Wordlessly, he took out his phone and stared at the screen. Then, barely even a moment later, he was fishing Daeun's now-crumpled number out from his pocket. He unfolded it slowly, staring at it for a moment.

Jung Daeun xxx-xxx-xxxx

He looked back and forth between his phone screen and the paper, punching in the numbers, feeling somewhat dazed. She'd tilted his whole world on its axis with just a few sentences—a break in his usual routine.

For a second, he paused on the contact name, his thumb hovering over the screen like an idiot. Then, after a few more moments of contemplation, he punched it in.

Jung Daeun - Seowan's nurse

He stared. Deleted the second half.

Jung Daeun

He stared again. Deleted it. Typed it again. Deleted it again. Stopped.

Seowan's nurse

Her contact stared up at him. He just stared back. Then, the phone screen finally dimmed in his hand, and he snapped out of it. So 'Seowan's nurse,' it was.

He turned his phone off in a hurry, throwing it onto his passenger seat like it'd burned him. He drove in silence, cursing himself the whole way home, way too out of it to remember to turn on the radio.

***

The first time he texted her, he was at work, fingers tapping against the bar counter as he hid from his boss. His heart wasn't in it today. His heart hadn't been in it at all, recently.

He looked around, checking to see if any of his coworkers were watching him before he slipped off into the bathroom for what felt like the tenth time that night. He locked himself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet as he turned on his phone.

He thumbed through it as if there was anything there for him.

The news. Some new restaurant had opened a few blocks over.

One of his mobile games poking him to try to get him back into playing.

An email advertising a new skincare product—he wasn't sure why he kept getting those.

A 'wsp man do u need smth' text from one of his dealers.

There was nothing of interest, nothing of note.

He exhaled sharply, nibbling at his lower lip. His fingers hesitated over the screen for a second, and then he was pulling up her contact—again.

He'd been staring at it for longer than he'd ever admit out loud. He wasn't sure why, though. Wasn't sure what he was even waiting for. Some excuse to delete it? Some reason to pretend she'd never given it to him?

But he didn't delete it.

He hadn't texted, either. It'd been four days since she'd given it to him, four days since he'd last seen Seowan, too. He felt bad about it, always did. Some days, he got tempted to quit the club and check himself into the ward with him. Maybe they'd even share a room. The thought made him snort, though in reality it wasn't all that funny.

Either way, that just wasn't an option. So instead, he just sucked in a breath, tucked his hair behind his ears, and started a new conversation.

He told himself that he didn't have to text her. Because he didn't. He'd been visiting Seowan without saying a word to anyone about it for forever now. He showed up, stayed too long, sat there while Seowan talked and talked, and eventually got kicked out by the staff. Same routine. Same corridor. Same faces.

She just happened to be one of them now.

And yet here he was, typing with cold fingers.

"I'll be at the hospital tomorrow. Not sure if you're there to tell him rn"

He stared at it. Too long. Too much.

He deleted it.

"Visiting tomorrow"

Did that sound dumb? It did, right? Like he was announcing himself. Or something. But... that's what this was for, right? Would she even know it was him?

Delete.

Namgyu shook his head, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

"Going to visit Seowan tomorrow. At noon"

That's it. Flat. Neutral. No extra words. Namedropped Seowan—so she'd know it was from him.

He hesitated, hands suddenly clammy around his phone. He hit send.

He waited a few minutes, ignored the way his heart quickened as he stared at his text bubble on the screen.

Nothing happened. No read receipt, no typing bubbles, just silence.

Good. Whatever. That's what he was hoping for. This was for Seowan.

He stood up, shutting off his phone and slipping it in his back pocket before pushing his way out of the stall. He fixed his hair in the mirror and washed his hands with cold water, rubbing the wetness onto the front of his slacks once he saw that the paper towels were out. He didn't plan on fixing it.

The bass from the club leaked through the wall behind him. He stood there for a few moments, desperately trying to conjure up more ways to delay his fate.

Then—a vibration from his back pocket. Namgyu immediately straightened without meaning to, heart jumping up to his throat as he fumbled for it. He brought it up to his face, held his breath as the screen lit up.

[6:32pm — xxx-xxx-xxxx] "yoo wya??? ur table is asking for more drinks. can't cover for u"

A few beats of silence, a weight pressing down on his shoulders.

Namgyu blinked.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket without a word. It didn't come back out for the rest of his shift.

***

Daeun felt the vibration of her phone in the break room, a half eaten rice cracker in her hands. Admittedly, she was a bit tired today. She had about six minutes left of her thirty. Not enough time to do anything, really, but just enough to remind her of how tired she was. Half-awake, she moved to fish her phone out, turning it on lazily.

The screen lit up.

[6:20pm] "Going to visit seowan tomorrow. At noon"

Daeun straightened at the sight of Seowan's name. This had to be Namgyu.

Good to know. She saved him under Kim Namgyu. Stared at it for a few seconds, then quietly added—the Assassin, to the end of it.

Seowan hadn't mentioned any visits recently. She was certain he'd be happy to hear about this.

Daeun didn't respond right away. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to. Namgyu didn't seem like he'd care either way. She set her phone down. Let herself get a few more bites of her rice cracker in, listened to the ticking of the wall clock and the sound of footsteps in the hall.

Later on, as she was changing out of her scrubs and into her outside clothes, she took her phone out again, quickly typing out a message and hitting send without a second thought. She slipped it into her purse, said a quick goodbye to her coworkers, and went home.

[7:32pm] "Thanks for the heads up! :)"

***

The drive to the hospital the day after felt new, somehow, like there was something in the air. Namgyu parked his car, checked his hair in the mirror, and then stalled a bit before finally making his way inside. His steps felt a little lighter, though the slouch in his shoulders and the bags under his eyes had all but changed. He pushed the button on the intercom, waited to hear the ring, walked in as soon as someone buzzed him in.

He didn't smile when the nurse at the front desk greeted him, didn't look anyone in the eye as he signed himself in.

Of course, as observant as ever, Daeun saw him before he saw her.

She was at the nurse's station, catching up on her charting when he walked in. Her fingers stuttered over the keyboard at the sight of him. She glanced at the clock. 12:00 sharp. She smiled.

He noticed her after a second, slowed down mid-step as he made accidental eye contact.

He nibbled on the inside of his cheek. "...Hey." It came out stiff. Almost reluctant.

"Hello!" she replied, tucking her pen into the pocket of her scrubs. She nodded at him, pointed at the black watch on her wrist. "Right on time."

He nodded, unsure of what to say next. then, "You told him?"

"I did." She smiled. "He's been asking about it all morning. He practically jumped out of bed when I told him. He even had the energy to play three games of ping pong with me!"

Namgyu looked away like he didn't know what to do with that information, though it was comforting to hear. He nodded a bit. In all this time that Seowan had been in the ward, Namgyu hadn't bothered to talk to any of the nurses. Not like he wanted to.

It was nice to hear about how Seowan was doing when he wasn't there.

"He's in good shape today," she added, softer now. "I think knowing you'd be here helped him a lot."

"Good to know." Namgyu's voice was clipped, feeling horribly awkward for one reason or another. He told himself that he didn't continue the conversation because he didn't want to, not because he straight up didn't know how.

She just hummed, not pressing for anything more from him. She got up from her chair to fetch Seowan from the activity room—turns out, he'd still had enough energy for quite a few more ping pong matches.

"Assassin!"

Namgyu heard Seowan before he saw him. He walked down the hall, doing a little run in the middle of it before slowing back to his normal pace. A 'dash,' as Seowan called it.

Seowan regarded him with a flourish of his hands. "I was expecting you," he started, a glint in his eyes as he approached. Daeun smiled next to him. "The mediator was kind enough to relay your message."

"Yeah, man," Namgyu returned, a soft smile forming on his lips.

"Now, please, as we enter this fortress of solitude—I urge you to tell me about every detail of your harrowing quests outside the temple." Seowan placed a hand on his shoulder, ducking his head for a brief moment before dashing inside the visiting room.

Namgyu let out a puff of laughter, lingering outside the door for a moment as he watched Seowan do what he called 'clearing the room.' He'd told Namgyu it was important to check your corners for any orcs or goblins hiding inside. He let him do his thing.

Daeun cut in casually, voice soft, "You staying long?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug, responded without looking at her. "As long as they let me."

She smiled. Didn't press, didn't offer any more small talk. It just made her happy—seeing Seowan happy. She gave a short nod and stepped aside so he could pass.

"Oh," she added. "Thank you. for the message. It made a big difference."

Namgyu paused.

Then muttered without looking back, "Sure."

Daeun shut the door behind them. Her steps felt a little lighter the rest of the day.

***

The days came and went. More visits. More candy. And soon, the initial excitement (that Namgyu would never admit had existed in the first place) of Daeun's interjection in his routine faded quickly and quietly into the background of his life. It was just another thing that'd happened to him now.

Namgyu finished up at work and sped home, eager to wash the smell of smoke and sweat off his body. He was in the middle of drying off his hair when he picked up the phone. He sent Daeun a text about his next visit, adding to the ever-growing pile.

"Be there tomorrow noon"

"Seeing Seowan on Thursday"

"Can't come until maybe Tuesday"

"Might visit Wednesday actually"

And when the days finally came, as days tend to do, he bought Seowan's favorite candy from the convenience store and buzzed in, listening to the echoes down the hall and the familiar shuffle of his feet against the floor. Normal.

Seowan really had seemed to be in a better mood since the texts started. Less anxious and disbelieving when a nurse fetched him for the visit, less lingering and despair when it was finally time for Namgyu to leave. At least now, he knew for sure that there'd be a next time. Daeun made absolutely sure that he knew.

Namgyu stopped freaking out when it was time to text her. Why would he? It was for Seowan, always was. He hadn't expected anything to come of it, anyways.

Her responses became just another notification in his phone that he scrolled past.

"Thanks for the heads up!"

"Appreciate it, I’ll let him know :D"

"He’ll be happy to hear"

"Seowan is excited!"

Seowan was happy. Namgyu was happy, too—or at least as happy as he could be in his current situation.

Nothing much out of the ordinary.

Then, one day—Seowan didn't want to talk. Namgyu came as usual, slid the candy across the table, and waited. There was no big greeting today, though he chalked it up to Seowan being tired. When they sat down and he didn't immediately go on about his latest quest and the gold he'd gathered from it, Namgyu knew something was actually wrong.

"Yo. Seowan. What's up? You're quiet today, man."

He just shook his head, stared at his hands folded in front of him, fidgeted with the bag of candy quietly.

"I... I think that..." He swallowed thickly, nibbled on his lower lip. Namgyu went still, waiting patiently for him to gather his words, suddenly concerned. "I think that," he started again, "it seems I... encountered a fate that should've been avoided at all costs."

Namgyu blinked.

"The fuck? Dude. You're scaring the shit out of me," Namgyu muttered. "What the hell is going on? What fate?"

Seowan let out a shaky sigh, pushing his palms into his eyes. "That fate is... bringing me toward a very difficult battle."

Namgyu resisted the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "With who, dude? Who are you battling?" He felt his blood pressure rising slowly. Was someone messing with his brother?

He shook his head, curling in on himself on the squishy leather chair as he let out a low groan.

"Seowan. Bro. Answer me. Who the fuck are you battling?"

"It's too much, assassin. I hoped it wouldn't come to this." Seowan grabbed at his hair. "I'm not even sure if your power-ups can help me, this time."

"Just tell me what the fuck is wrong, and I'll go deal with it, man! I just need to know who—"

Seowan cut him off with a sudden yelp of utter despair, dragging out the sound as he slammed his head onto the table.

"The healer... the healer... I didn't want it to come to this...!"

Namgyu stood up in his chair, leaning over the table as he took hold of Seowan's shoulders, gripping him firmly.

"Okay, man, getting warmer, but I'm gonna need a name. First and last. Who the fuck is the healer and what the hell is—"

A buzz behind him, the sound of the door swinging open.

"Sorry," a nurse said, cutting off his interrogation. "I think it's time for Mr. Kim to get some rest."

She nodded at Seowan at the table, head down and face red as he tugged at his hair, his stress building by the second.

Namgyu was pissed to say the least, though even he was smart enough to know that the last thing he should do was piss off the hospital staff. Instead of bursting like he desperately wanted to, he just nodded, stiff, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, almost ready to boil over.

"Alright," he muttered, though he felt anything but.

Daeun saw him on his way out. She raised a hand, opening her mouth to say hello, but she paused in the middle of the first syllable, startled at the sight of his expression. She figured it was probably for the best if she left it alone, this time, though she watched his back for as long as she was able, up until his frame disappeared around the corner.

He didn't go home, after that. The air was warm outside, the sun still high in the sky. People walked around the lobby and outside the hospital, smiling, lost in conversation, happy in a way that pissed Namgyu off. It felt wrong, leaving Seowan so early. So instead of walking to his car, Namgyu decided to do a lap—or three—around the hospital, checking his phone every now and then. He found a nearby bench and lit up a cigarette. It's not like there was much waiting for him at home, or elsewhere, anyways.

It was still light out when he got her text a few hours later, though Namgyu had moved from his spot at the bench, now sitting on a cloth chair in the hospital lobby. After he'd put out his third cigarette, of course. He'd gone inside to take shelter from the sudden downpour. Surprisingly, it still wasn't enough to convince him to go home.

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he didn't react much. Just kept watching the rain paint the sidewalk. It took him a few minutes to take out his phone. He was certain it was another one of his dealers checking up on him.

He turned it on, felt his breath stall as he read the text.

2 new message(s) from Seowan's nurse.

[2:15pm — Daeun] "Seowan wasn't feeling good today. We found him with a packed bag on the roof. We're not sure what was upsetting him :("

[2:16pm — Daeun] "He's doing okay now, and he's drying off in his room. I'm going to try and talk to him. I wanted to let you know that he's safe"

He didn't reply, just got up and started running

Namgyu's feet barely touched the ground as he made his way back up to the ward, hands shaking at his sides as he waited five agonizing seconds for the staff to let him in.

He ran up to the nurse's station, opened his mouth to ask about Seowan, but Daeun beat him to it.

"Namgyu!" she said, a mix of relief and surprise in her voice as she glanced at her phone. She'd texted him four minutes ago. "You got here quick."

"Never left."

She blinked, processing. "You mean... you've been here since noon?"

He nodded, growing increasingly more agitated by the second.

"Seowan. where is he?" Namgyu needed to see him. Needed to know who was messing with him. "He was going on about some fucking—battle earlier. His fate being fucked, or whatever." Keeping the crudeness out of his language was probably last on Namgyu's very short list of concerns.

Daeun closed out her charting and stood up. "He's in his room right now. Still drying off." She rounded the desk and came to stand next to him, lowering her voice as she leaned in closer to him. "I... talked to him. About what was upsetting him. I got him to tell me what was wrong"

Namgyu's chest rose and fell with every breath.

"What? Who the hell was it? What'd they do to him?"

Daeun shot her coworkers a glance. They were watching—giving Daeun a look that said 'calm him down.' She nodded at the empty waiting room.

"Sit for a bit? We can talk there." Then, as if to sweeten the deal somehow, she added, "I'll make you some green tea."

He didn't say anything, but he followed her inside.

The room was fairly quiet, save for an old vending machine buzzing faintly while a muted tv played reruns of some gameshow in the corner.

Namgyu slouched in his chair, tapping his foot in what was half habit and half anxiety with his arms crossed over his chest.

Daeun came back with a mug of warm tea. She handed it to him and sat a respectful distance away, giving Namgyu a second to simmer down.

A few beats of silence.

"He looked like shit earlier. Wouldn't talk to me at all, so I knew something was wrong. I didn't wanna leave him like that." He scoffed, as if remembering. "Then that bitch kicked me out."

Daeun pursed her lips at his choice of wording, hesitant to tell him off. He kept going.

"I think it's time for Mr. Kim to get some rest," he mocked, gripping the tea a bit tighter. "Oh, fuck off. She didn't even give a shit about him. Just wanted him to shut up."

She let the silence sit before answering.

"It was... the doctor. His colorectal doctor."

Namgyu looked at her, expression grim. "What did he do?"

"Seowan told me that..." She looked around, and, upon finding no one, whispered, "His doctor's fingers were too... thick. And that they hurt his bottom too much."

Namgyu blinked. If he hadn't been gripping his tea so tightly already, he might've dropped it.

"You serious?"

Daeun nodded, pressing her lips together tightly.

"Yes."

He exhaled sharply, once in disbelief, and the next time with amusement. He tried to speak, but broke out into spurts of laugher instead.

"Jesus fucking christ. When he's done thinking he's in a video game, I'm gonna be hanging this shit over his head forever." Namgyu shook his head, looking off to the distance with a grin on his face that just kept growing wider. "He packed his bag and climbed all the way up to the roof during a storm, because... he was too scared to tell his butt doctor that his asshole hurt?"

Daeun bit her bottom lip, doing nothing but nodding.

Namgyu laughed again, louder this time, almost spilling his tea as his shoulders shook. He looked over at her, eyes wide with something akin to relief.

He blinked.

"You're allowed to laugh, you know that, right? Shit's funny."

Daeun pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek. She really didn't want to laugh. It felt unprofessional and maybe even a little... mean? However, against her better judgement, a puff of laughter escaped her, spurred on by Namgyu's own amusement and the absurdity of the situation, though it was more a laugh of relief, than anything—relief that Seowan's issue was an easy fix, relief that Namgyu's veins weren't bulging out of neck anymore.

He got it all out, leaning back in his chair as he caught his breath. He brushed a hand through his hair, fixing it absent-mindedly as he took a sip of his tea.

"Damn. I thought I was gonna have to kill somebody today."

Daeun shook her head. "Please don't say that."

"Relax. I just thought that... Someone was fucking with him, or something." He straightened in his seat. "Thank god it wasn't something too horrible, though." He turned to face her, looking a little more serious. "I want him to get a new butt doctor."

Daeun held in her laugh over hearing the term 'butt doctor' for the second time.

She nodded. "I know his doctor personally. I'm sure he would understand if Seowan wanted someone else to take over."

Namgyu swiped his tongue over his teeth.

"What's his name?"

Daeun raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Just wanna know."

"It should be in Seowan's file—"

"But you know his name, right?"

Daeun was silent for a moment, then, "Dr. Dong Goyun."

Namgyu nodded. "Cool. He's going on my list." He took a swig of his tea.

"What?" Daeun said, suddenly panicked. "What list?"

"People that have wronged me. Or Seowan. Which is basically the same as wronging me."

Daeun balked. "Are you—"

"I just wanted to know. Relax," he said again.

So she did.

"You care about him a lot. I understand."

Namgyu snorted. "Duh. That's my brother."

Then he stood up, downed the last of his tea, and placed it on a nearby coffee table.

She got up, too, speed-walking to catch up to him as he pushed the door to the main room open.

"You're not gonna talk to Seowan?"

He scratched a spot just beneath his eye, looked to the side for a moment, then spoke, "Don't think he'd wanna see me right now, honestly. I'll give him some space. Besides." He paused, turning slightly to look down at her. "I don't think he'd be too happy to find out that the mediator snitched to the assassin about his secret battle with the fire-breathing asshole doctor."

Daeun's mouth fell open, suddenly feeling a bit panicked. Would Seowan feel betrayed if he found out...?

She'd be heartbroken if she lost his trust.

"I... I didn't snitch." She said the word like it was something dirty. "It was a concern of yours, and I just wanted to let you know that—"

"I'm joking," Namgyu cut in, matter-of-fact, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

A pause. Silence. They both blinked at each other, the two of them standing there in the open doorway.

She let out a soft puff of laughter after a moment, a hand coming to rest over her heart as she collected herself, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Right, right, of course... you scared me a little."

More silence.

"Yeah."

Then suddenly, the bubble popped—a shift in the air, and it dawned on Namgyu just how easily the past few minutes of conversation with Daeun had flowed. So easy he hadn't even noticed it. Things always got a lot easier when Seowan was involved, somehow.

It was like his real personality had snuck up from behind, tapped him on the shoulder as if reminding him, "hey, you're supposed to be a weird cunt that nobody likes, remember? Normal person free trial is over."

She smiled up at him, nodded. "I'll make sure to let Seowan know that you stopped by. He'll be happy to see you next time, when he's feeling better."

"Sure," he mumbled, remembering himself. "I'll text you, uh, when."

Daeun disappeared down the hall and Namgyu disappeared through the exit. At the nurse's station, her coworkers exchanged a few looks.

***

The day that Seowan climbed to the roof was probably the first time Namgyu let himself relax. Around Daeun. At the hospital. Honestly, in general.

After he drove home that day, something in the air every day after felt calmer. Safe. Like he could trust that Seowan was in good hands when she was there. Because he could.

Work still sucked, sure. His crypto wallet still made his head spin and throat go dry. But he could close his eyes at night knowing Seowan had someone in that hospital that actually gave somewhat of a shit. Someone besides him.

Since then, they'd settled into the routine that Namgyu came to know.

The first time they talked outside the hospital—literally, outside the hospital—it was an accident. Namgyu had stayed with Seowan until he couldn't anymore. Found a seat at the bench outside. Smoked a few cigarettes in between people-watching and scrolling through short videos that were no doubt rotting his brain from the inside out.

He didn't really have a reason, this time. He just didn't want to go home. So he didn't.

It was almost sunset when Daeun stepped out of the hospital's main entrance, the back of her neck sticky from a long shift. She was in the middle of tugging her hair out of its ponytail when she spotted him—black shirt and hair that was just starting to graze his shoulders, slouched over by one of the benches just past the bushes.

When she was within earshot of him, her steps slowed without her meaning them to.

She didn't say anything, but he looked up as if he felt her eyes on him. His expression didn't shift much, but he sat up a little bit straighter.

She pressed her lips together.

"You're still here."

"Yeah. Didn't feel like going home." He exhaled sharply. "Got any extra beds in there?"

A few weeks ago, a 'yeah' would've sufficed in Namgyu's mind. But as of recent, he found himself adding to his responses, sentences getting longer and more unnecessary. He wasn't sure when it started. Or why. But it did.

Daeun let out a small laugh.

"I don't think you'd like it in there." A comfortable pause. "You heading home soon?"

He shrugged. "Not sure."

"Any reason why?"

Namgyu furrowed his brows.

"No."

It wasn't entirely convincing. Daeun could tell there was more to it.

"Are you okay?" she asked, cautious, testing.

He huffed, rolling his eyes like the question exhausted him.

"Yes? A dude can't sit on a fucking bench anymore without it secretly meaning he wants to jump off a bridge?"

"Okay." She didn't push it.

Namgyu swallowed, tapping his foot against the sidewalk.

A silence hung between them after that. Not awkward or heavy, just still. Their bodies relaxed without them meaning to.

Then, "You wanna walk?"

He hesitated. Let his mouth fall open slightly. He hadn't expected that.

He let the question hang in the air for a while, the 'no' resting just on the tip of his tongue.

To his surprise, he pushed himself to his feet a few seconds later.

"Alright," he said before he could change his mind.

They started down the curved path that wrapped around the hospital lot, past the garden that she sometimes walked in to clear her head after a particularly grueling shift. She talked more than he did, as expected. She seemed to have a knack for keeping conversations going, even if the other participant had the reciprocation of a dead fish.

Updates about her shift, a funny story about one of her patients that stole pudding cups and hid it under their mattress (though she was careful not to name them). She told him about Seowan. About his latest drawings and the newest 'video game terminology' she'd learned from him, though Namgyu hadn't asked. He didn't say much, actually, but she saw the way he listened—shoulders easing, gaze softening as he stared down at the concrete. He let her talk.

It definitely beat sitting alone on that bench for another hour. Or going home to nothing. He nodded every now and then, snorted and hummed on occasion when appropriate.

Maybe that's what kept Daeun talking.

By the time they'd finished their loop and found their way back to the front, the sky was glowing lavender and orange behind the building.

Her phone buzzed with a text from her mom. She fished it out, checking the time in the process. It was almost time for the next bus to arrive. Perfect.

"I should go," she said.

Namgyu nodded like he expected that.

"Me too."

She gave him a polite wave and turned to go. Then paused. "Hey."

He lifted a brow.

"Thanks for the company."

Namgyu blanked.

If anything, he should be the one thanking her. He pushed the thought down immediately, annoyed that it'd even crossed his mind.

"I didn't even say anything," he challenged, though, once again, a 'yeah, whatever,' would've sufficed. It was like he was daring her to take it back.

She just shook her head.

"You didn't have to."

She smiled. He didn't. She gave him another small wave and made her way to the bus stop.

Namgyu didn't say anything, but he lingered a second longer than necessary before walking off in the opposite direction.

He wouldn't call it 'hanging out' and she probably wouldn't either, but they'd definitely existed in the same vicinity for an extended period of time. By choice, too.

***

That night, Namgyu broke one of his rules.

Don't text her about anything other than Seowan.

He stared at their text conversation like it might blink back. Sucked in a breath, as if steeling himself to continue.

He didn't do shit like this. Whatever.

He told himself that it'd be in his best interest—and Seowan's—to play nice with his nurse. Maybe if he pissed her off, she'd end up taking it out on Seowan. Namgyu nodded slowly, processing his ingenious logic.

He didn't fully believe in his reasoning, but he told himself that he did.

A sharp exhale. A long blink. He opened his eyes and punched in the words like it pained him to do so, though it honestly kind of did. Sent it, then flipped the phone face-down on his chest. He pretended not to notice the way his hands were sweating despite the chill permeating the entire apartment.

1 new message(s) from Kim Namgyu 🐧 the assassin.

[8:58pm — Namgyu] "Thanks for earlier"

Then barely a minute later, the three dots appeared. A text came shortly after.

[8:59pm — Daeun] "Ofc!!! Any time 😸 Thank YOU for letting me blab"

Daeun smiled at her phone, placing it on the counter for a second as she spat out her toothpaste.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Namgyu had unknowingly tipped the very first domino in a very long series of firsts.

***

Namgyu ended up making a habit of it, lingering outside the hospital. He refused to believe it was because of her. He told himself it was because people-watching in the sun was at least a few steps up from rotting in his bedroom.

He'd leave the hospital, feel the outside air on his skin, and consider heading straight home like he usually did. But his legs always had a miscommunication with his mind, and he'd always find his way back to that damn bench. Daeun's shift ended an hour and a half after visitation did. About 7:30. He wasn't keeping track on purpose, though. He was just observant like that. At least, that's what he told himself.

Daeun made a habit of it, too, poking her head around to see his figure hunched over his usual bench. She didn't hesitate anymore, just waltzed right up to him. Sometimes it'd be a quick hello and an equally as quick goodbye. Other times, a few minutes of back and forth. Most of the time, though, they'd take a lap. Or two. Or three. It was weird, the progression, how quickly it became normal. Their talks slotted easily into his routine like a puzzle piece that'd been waiting to be filled this whole time.

It also helped him lay off the drugs—their talks. Surprisingly enough. It was weird how that worked.

He didn't realize it, but he'd stopped reaching for them recently. At least for long enough that the part of him that craved them quieted down to a small whisper, barely audible. Though, to be fair, watching his crypto dip lower and lower definitely played a significant part in decreasing his poor spending habits.

He texted her a lot when he was at work, though Namgyu still refused to tell her where exactly that was—or confirm that he even had a job at all.

1 new message(s) from Seowan’s nurse.

[5:46pm — Daeun] [photo] "Look at the drawing Seowan made! He told me it's us. The mage, assassin, and the mediator. It's so cute. I'm gonna put it on the art wall"

[5:48pm — Namgyu] "Wow. Looks like shit"

Namgyu quickly added,

[5:48pm — Namgyu] "Ok wait I was joking. Don't tell him I said that. It'll make him sad"

[5:51pm — Daeun] "You're mean. But my lips are sealed, for his sake, not yours 🤐 I'm gonna tell him you thought it was super cute"

[5:51pm — Namgyu] "Do u lie to ur patients all the time or what"

[5:53pm — Daeun]"😐..."

[5:53pm — Namgyu] "Stupid ass emoji"

[5:54pm — Daeun] "I'm leaving now. To do my job. You know. Because some of us have jobs"

[5:54pm — Namgyu] "Alr lmaooo"

"Namgyu?"

The sound of his coworker's voice snapped him out of his reverie. He was horrified to find that he'd been smiling at his phone like an absolute fucking moron. He pulled it close to his chest, hiding the screen like anyone gave a shit.

"Do you want this or not, man? I asked you like three times."

Namgyu fumbled for words, waved him off. "Nah, nah. I'm good."

He shoved his phone into his pocket roughly, face burning like he'd been caught doing something criminal. Though, to Namgyu, smiling at his phone like a fucking teenager might as well have been a crime punishable by death.

On another day, she made a joke during one of their walks—one about how his butt was leaving a visual imprint on the bench. Namgyu got offended, threatened to tell Seowan that his 'dear mediator' was evil and conspiring against him. Daeun pretended to believe him, pretended to plead him not to. Namgyu didn't say anything else the rest of the night.

1 new message(s) from Seowan's nurse.

[9:51pm — Daeun] "Still mad about the butt comment?"

[9:54pm — Namgyu] "Can u actually fuck off"

[9:55pm — Daeun] "😋😋😋"

It started being less weird, the random texts. The conversations that went beyond Seowan. He still gave her heads ups about his visits, of course. She still responded, still gave him updates.

From an outside perspective, it was starting to resemble something dangerously close to the shape of a friendship. Namgyu thought this to himself sometimes, but he never said it out loud, like he was afraid that if the thought materialized in the real world, it'd kill him.

Besides, they weren't friends.

No. She was just some nurse, and he just so happened to be Seowan's brother. Their communication was a necessary part of his care.

Or... something.

Today, in the middle of Namgyu's routine bench-warming, an hour before her shift would be over, Daeun texts him a question she already knows the answer to.

[6:32pm — Daeun] "Are you still outside, oh great assassin?"

His heart does a strange little jump.

[6:32pm — Namgyu] "Stop calling me that shit. Yeah I am"

[6:36pm — Daeun] "Come up to the garden on the fifth floor. I can't go on a walk today, but I'm gonna take my break soon so we can still talk before you go home"

Namgyu stares at his phone like it'd grown teeth. His fingers hesitate over the keys, suddenly feeling cold. He forces himself to type out a response.

[6:39pm — Namgyu] "Tf makes u think I'm here bc I'm waiting for u?? Lmao. I like sitting out here"

[6:39pm — Daeun] "Hehe. Sure. See you in five minutes"

He swallows, eyebrows furrowed as he rereads her text for the fifth time.

He thinks about not going, about standing his ground, telling her he's tired, that he really does just sit out on that bench for his own sake. Not cause he's waiting. Waiting for her.

However, there are a lot of words that could be used to describe Namgyu—most of them unpleasant in nature—but 'mentally fortified' is not one of them. So naturally, he goes.

The ride up the elevator is quiet, save for his own thoughts.

It's pretty up there, the garden. The sky is a little darker now, taking on a deeper shade of blue, but there's plenty of lights in the area. They cast a warm, golden glow over all the plants and bushes, highlighting the colors of the various fauna. Everything is healthy. There's a few chairs and tables scattered across the place. Some people are sitting up there already, enjoying each other's company over hospital food and instant coffee. Namgyu can tell that it's well taken care of. He can picture someone in a fancy sun hat going around every morning, spritzing each one down with an equally fancy watering device. It's a stark contrast to the piss-scented alleyways and seedy exchanges he's used to down at Club Pentagon. It feels odd to him, being here. Like he's not supposed to be.

He doesn't let himself think about it much longer and claims a seat by a plot of pink flowers. Admittedly, the pillow beneath him is a welcome upgrade from the stiff bench outside the hospital. Namgyu decides he'd made the right choice.

He keeps glancing towards the elevator door, wondering if she's really coming. A tiny part of him hopes she doesn't. It'd be easier. He could go home, text her a 'sorry, had to go', and scrub it off like a bad day.

But then the doors open with a soft chime.

Daeun steps out, holding a cup of tea in one hand and something crinkly in the other.

"Hey," she says, approaching him like it was no big deal. Like they arranged to meet up here all the time.

Namgyu sits up straighter, though he isn't sure why. He looks at his wrist, pretends to check a watch that he doesn't have.

"Fucking finally."

"You'll live."

She sits down next to him.

"You look like you're deep in thought."

"I'm not," he mutters. "Just tired."

She offers him the crinkly thing—a packet of rice crackers. "Found these in the break room."

He takes them without thinking. As he crunches down on one, he realizes that he's hungry as hell. He really should start eating better. He inhales the crackers like it was his first time ingesting food.

A few moments later, Namgyu tips his head back and taps the last of the cracker crumbs into his mouth.

Her eyes widen, and she exhales sharply through her nose. "Geez. Do you want the other one, too...?"

"Shut up," he says through a mouthful of crackers. "These taste like shit, anyways."

A laugh. Daeun kicks off her shoes, resting her feet on top of them as she leans back on the chair and closes her eyes with a sigh.

"It's so pretty up here. Maybe I should take my breaks up here more often."

Namgyu doesn't say anything to that, fidgeting with what was left of the wrapper she'd given him. He traces the label with his index finger over and over again.

Honestly, neither of them talk much at all.

He kicks his foot against the ground, glances over at the planters.

She always found him. On the bench outside. Just her on her way home and him sitting there. Because he wanted to. He wasn't waiting for her. He just happened to be there a lot.

His leg starts bouncing.

He opens his mouth and tries to say something, but after a second he closes it again. He doesn't know why, but something about the walking, the being in motion, it made it easier to talk to her, for his brain to conjure up shit to say, even if it wasn't much to begin with.

At least when they were walking, Namgyu could pretend that they weren't actually spending time with each other on purpose. He could trick his brain into thinking they were just two people who happened to be walking in the exact same direction at the same exact time and at the same exact pace.

Up here, in the warm glow of the lights, everything feels more purposeful. She invited him. And he came. He chose to walk every step that it took to get here. Chose to click the button to the fifth floor. Chose to wait for her to start her break.

Something about sitting here with her—outside of their usual spot, outside of protocol, outside of the neat little box he tried to keep her in—makes his throat feel dry. He's not sure if he can fully blame it on the crackers, anymore, either.

He keeps playing with the wrapper—folding it, unfolding it, smoothing it flat and then crumpling it again.

It's so quiet.

She's so quiet.

He glances over once, then again. His leg stops bouncing.

Her eyes are closed. Been closed, actually. She's breathing slower, too.

He blinks, looks away, and then looks back.

Her head is tilted to the side, silhouetted by the stark white of the chair they're both sitting in. The rooftop lights paint her in a halo of gold, softening the shadows of her face and catching in the wisps of her hair in a way that turns the tips a warm copper.

She looks tired from her shift, exhausted, even.

He swallows and finally sets the crinkled wrapper down beside him on the bench, straightening slightly, his whole body suddenly feeling like it was made of glass. He makes a conscious effort to slow his breathing, as if the sound of it alone would be enough to wake her, somehow. Then he shifts again, angling his body away from hers as he takes out his phone to check the time.

Her break's not long. He should let her sleep. He opens the clock app and starts a timer: 18 minutes. The screen glows for a second before he tucks it back into his pocket.

He presses his knees together and tucks his elbows into his sides, suddenly hyper-aware of every atom and cell in his body. He fights against the urge to revert to his usual way of sitting—legs sprawled a mile apart with his knees angled out and forearms resting on his thighs.

Instead, he lets out a quiet breath, and slowly, carefully, brings his hands to a resting place on his lap. He clenches his fists tightly for a moment, then releases. Contained.

Then he leans back—agonizingly slow, shoulders brushing the top of the bench softly as he stares up at the string lights. He spins the ring on his index finger to pass the time, unsure.

He could leave. He should leave, actually. But when he looks up, the stars seem to be glowing just a bit brighter than usual.

So he decides to enjoy the breeze instead.

He lets his eyes flutter shut, the buzzing of the city below and the timer ticking gently in his pocket. He waits for it to end.

***

Soon, the soft chime of the timer buzzes faintly against his leg, barely audible. Namgyu blinks, like the sound pulled him out of something.

He takes his phone out and silences it, then glances over at her again.

She's curled in on herself a little more now, arms folded in her lap as her shoulders rise and fall, slow and steady. There's a wrinkle on her cheek from where it was pressed against the bench, a soft smudge of sleep in her features. For a second, he hesitates.

But her break is almost over.

So he leans in just slightly, voice low and quieter than he means it to be. Careful.

"Hey."

She doesn't stir.

"Hey," he says a little bit louder. He pokes her in the bicep.

"Hm?" Her voice is faint, groggy. She lifts her head and squints at the lights, then at him.

Namgyu watches dumbly as a shutter of recognition flashes slowly across her features, like a blanket being lifted. She blinks. A smile.

"Oh, Namgyu. Hi."

She pokes him back, and an electric shock runs through him. He stills.

Next to him, Daeun stretches her arms over her head with a yawn.

And then it hits her.

"Oh. Oh my god," she mumbles, sitting up straighter. "Did I fall asleep?" She pats herself down, fumbling to find her phone. "I don't even know what time is—"

"It's fine," Namgyu interrupts. "I set a timer. You have like five minutes left."

Daeun visibly relaxes, some of the panic flowing out of her. She wipes at her eyes, trying to hide her embarrassment behind a sheepish smile.

"I'm so sorry. That was so rude. I didn't mean to pass out on you like that."

He shrugs. "You were tired."

Daeun exhales, brushing her hair back from her face.

"Well," she says, glancing around, "thanks for coming up anyways. Even if I wasn't the best company tonight."

He doesn't respond to that, just rests his forearms on his thighs as he focuses in on the flowers next to them.

She watches him for a second, then stands, brushing off some stray cracker crumbs from her scrubs.

"You can stay if you want. It doesn't really close." Namgyu looks at her, expression unreadable. She continues, "You know, since you swear that you like sitting so much."

She punctuates her last sentence with a wink.

He doesn't say whether he will or won't. Just gives a vague nod, then yawns.

"Yeah, sure. Good to know."

Daeun smiles again, soft and a little sleepy. "I'll see you later, then."

He raises a hand weakly in lieu of a proper goodbye, watching as the doors slide shut behind her.

And just like that, it's quiet again, save for the humming of the lights. He sits there for a few minutes before making his way back down and into the front seat of his car.

Another domino had fallen. Another rule broken.

Don't spend time with her unless you have to.

Honestly? He'd already broken that one ten times over.

He drives home that night feeling like something soft had been stitched into his ribcage, a small spot right by the apex of his heart.

***

She invites him up to the garden a lot more after that, says she likes being "lazy" sometimes and that she isn't in the mood for walking lately. Namgyu calls her a bum, teases her about sleeping on the job.

So far, she hadn't fallen asleep on the roof again. She still brings him the 'shitty' crackers, though Namgyu insists that he only ate them the first time because he was bored. He still takes them every single time.

Things got a lot easier, all of a sudden—as if her first invite to the roof had opened an invisible gate.

Texts are more frequent. Replies come faster.

It creeps up on him. The shift, so gradual, so unassuming.

Namgyu doesn't even notice it until it's already happening—until he's halfway through typing a text and realizes he's not even censoring himself anymore.

At first, he chalks it up to proximity. They're bound to talk more. She sees Seowan almost every day. He visits almost every other day.

She starts texting him more updates than usual. Photos, short quotes, little moments she thinks he'll appreciate.

She even sends him a meme or two sometimes—both unprompted and completely unrelated to Seowan. He gets one in the middle of his couch-rotting session and immediately pauses the show he was pretending to care about. He watches her video and laughs, but not because he thinks it's funny. Because it's from her, and she thinks it's funny.

This fucking sucks, as Namgyu so directly and graciously tells her.

1 new message from Seowan's nurse.

[8:32pm — Daeun] "Wow. Mean. I'm not gonna send these to you anymore. You don't deserve them"

[8:34pm — Namgyu] "Lmao that's a lie. U love being annoying and unfunny. Promise me u wont and I'll send u 10,000 won rn"

[8:35pm — Daeun] "😐"

Daeun's bubbles appear again.

[8:35pm — Daeun] "Only 10,000 won? You're so cheap, bro"

He doesn't respond, but he secretly compiles some actually funny videos to send her in the future. He’s not sure exactly what he’s waiting for, but he waits.

An hour later, she sends him another meme, as unfunny as the last, just like Namgyu knew she would.

[9:40pm — Daeun] "You win. Now watch the video. I know you want to!!!"

The thing is... She's right. He does want to. That's the problem.

And again—

[7:42pm — Daeun][photo] "This little guy looks like you!!! Always mad about something"

[7:43pm — Namgyu] "That thing is ugly as fuck. Send that shit to me again and I'm blocking u. Actually"

[7:46pm — Daeun] [photo] "Badtz-magyu. I trademarked this just now"

[7:48pm — Namgyu] "Ok so do u notice how literally no one is laughing but u"

Then, while biting back a smile, he adds,

[7:48pm — Namgyu] "When the fuck did u take that photo of me"

[7:49pm — Namgyu] "Also u can't edit for shit, oh my god"

[7:50pm — Daeun] "I took it when you were standing by the bench, looking for me eheheh. Is your vision that bad that you didn't see me take it?

[7:55pm — Daeun] "Am I blocked yet?"

They have inside jokes now.

The realization alone is enough to make him freeze. He's standing in the convenience store cooler, a hand halfway to one of the iced coffees—the one she recommended to him the day before. Said it gave her 'more mana points' than all the other one's she's tried. He lowers his arm slowly, frowning at the row of drinks in front of him like they were the ones responsible.

Then—it gets worse, as many things in Namgyu's life often do.

She doesn't text him to come up to the garden one day. He doesn't like to assume things, never does, so he's on the bench. But he's still waiting for the ding.

She texts him just as he's about to light up outside the hospital, a habit that she's made countless attempts to stop.

[7:52pm — Daeun] "Still out there, assassin?"

[7:52pm — Namgyu] "Yeah"

He doesn't dispute the nickname anymore.

[7:53pm — Daeun] "Sorry I didn't text. Hectic day today. Wanna walk me to the bus stop? I got off late."

He stares at it for a solid thirty seconds, considers saying he was already about to go home, reconsiders.

Was it really all that weird? They talk a lot, these days.

[7:55pm — Namgyu] "Okay"

He waits by the front gate, hands jammed into his front pockets. When she emerges from the front doors in a flowy sweater and her oversized purse, she greets him like it's routine.

Namgyu just jerks his head to the side.

"Hurry the hell up," he mumbles, walking ahead of her.

"Relax! I just got off work. What'd you do?"

They walk in silence most of the way, Daeun yawning on occasion, brushing her hair out of her face.

When they reach the stop, she turns to him.

"You don't have to wait with me."

"I know," he says."

But he doesn't leave.

And so it continues.

One night, they text until two in the morning. Daeun doesn't have work the next day. Namgyu does. It doesn't really matter much to him, though. It's not like he was doing anything particularly ground-breaking. Namgyu is sure that he could show up half-alive and his boss wouldn't care—just as long as he was a body that could pass out drinks and hang up posters.

Their conversation starts about Seowan's 'butt doctor,' as Namgyu calls him. He confesses that he stalked Dr. Dong on instagram as soon as she'd let his name slip, makes a few comments about how annoying his voice is, how dumb his hair looks, recounts one of his many plans to avenge Seowan by getting him fired. He finds a way to get Daeun to call him the 'butthole inspector' at least once.

Then it veers sharply to their favorite childhood snacks, which Sanrio character Seowan would be (it's Keroppi), who Daeun would be (it's Hanamaru), Daeun's emotional support cactus, how bad their high school haircuts were—Namgyu refuses to share his own picture, but he gladly offers up Seowan's. Daeun refuses, says it's "unfair to him."

The next morning, he wakes up with his phone still clutched in his hand.

Another time, he almost asks her if she wants to grab food. A knee jerk reaction—just out of nowhere.

He's on his bed, sprawled in a hoodie and athletic shorts he hasn't changed out of all day. The phone rests on his stomach, screen dim, his last message still open.

He starts typing without thinking, then stops. His thumb hovers over the "wanna" in "wanna get food?"

He stares at it until the words looks foreign. Eventually he ends up deleting it and closes the app.

He doesn't try again, just retreats back to their normal rhythm of texting.

When Daeun sends him another cat emoji, urging him to use them, too, saying 'they're cuter than the regular faces!' his pulse quickens, and there, standing right on the cusp of being just brave enough, he almost asks her again—"you free this weekend?"—but he swallows the urge, nips it in the bud before he can even start. Instead, he sends a cat emoji back and flips the phone face-down.

He swallows, nibbles his lip, once, twice, stares up at the water-stained ceiling.

Was Daeun his... friend?

That's kind of what this was, right?

I mean, she was just... there a lot of the time, nowadays.

And so was he.

It's weird—this kind of ease, the fact that a "normal rhythm of texting" is a concept that even exists between them at all. He doesn't know how to live in it, unused to what seemed like a new addition to his daily life.

Everything about it feels so damn normal that it makes his skin itch.

[4:32pm — Namgyu] "😾"

***

The night air clings to Namgyu's skin once Club Pentagon spits him out, having had its way with him. There's sweat drying under his collar while bass lines pulse faintly in his head. His hair is still pulled back into a tiny ponytail from work, but he doesn't take it out just yet, feeling thankful for the cold air hitting the back of his neck.

His hands twitch a little. His feet ache.

He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows to give the breeze easier access, the smell of secondhand smoke, spilled cocktails, and a mix of various colognes and fragrances still hanging around him like a ghost.

He goes right home after work, usually, especially after the disappointment of not getting to see Seowan sets in.

Today, though, his stomach is gnawing at him a little louder and more aggressive than usual, empty and irritable, and the thought of reheating stale rice or picking through takeout leftovers feels way too unbearable for him, right now.

So instead, he turns a corner and wanders towards a little fried chicken joint that's tucked a little further down, away from the main street. It's a nice size—not particularly big or flashy, but he's seen it a few times before, passed it every time without thinking much of it at all. The smell is right tonight—grease and soy and garlic—and the warm lights inside look welcoming, a welcome change from the flashing neon headache at the nightclub.

He wanders in, orders a half-and-half set—soy garlic and spicy, and sits at a corner table, tucked away with his back to the wall. He scrolls through his phone mindlessly, just waiting.

By habit, his thumb drifts over to her name.

Well, not really her name.

He taps on Seowan's nurse and opens their conversation.

Her last text from earlier today stares up at him. It's a picture of the ping pong score board—Daeun made sure to bring it away from the activity area so that she wouldn't get any of the patients in the background. Under it, she'd typed: "Seowan beat me in ping pong again... I didn't even get a single point!!!"

He still hasn't responded, just left a reaction emoji and closed the app.

Now, looking at it, he imagines her setting up the scoreboard—framing it just right, holding the phone way too close to her face while she snaps the photo, checking it with a stupid smile before she goes to hit send.

His food arrives while he's still staring at the photo. He doesn't look up at the server when it hits the table, too out of it to say 'thank you' either, just locks onto the food like it'd grown a mouth and called out his name.

He glances back at their texts. He doesn't have anything to say, really, but now, with the quiet hum of the TV in the background, the fried chicken crisping on the table, and the faint ache of something resembling loneliness edging into the room with him—

He clicks the camera icon, flips it so it's facing forward.

The chicken is hot and crackling in the basket, the spicy sauce glistening on its surface like lacquered amber. He snaps a photo—slightly tilted, a little blurry from the grease on his lens—and sends it without thinking:

[7:50pm — Namgyu] [photo] "Got this shit from the traveling merchant. 500 mana points in just one wing"

He smiles at his own text despite the corniness, feeling at least a little bit clever.

He doesn't expect anything, barely even thought about the act itself before doing it. It was casual, a reflex now. like breathing. She sends him photos all the time. It's fine for him to do the same, right?

Then the phone buzzes.

A block of ice freezes over his spot in the corner, making his fingers go numb.

Incoming call: Seowan's nurse.

He stares at it. They'd never called before.

They don't call each other, period.

Not even when Seowan had bad days. Texts, yes. A lot of them, actually, but never a call. It felt like too much.

He lets it ring once. Then again. His thumb hovers over the answer button.

It rings for the third time—he picks it up.

"...Yeah?"

"Wait, are you seriously there right now?" Daeun's voice is loud on the other end, bright with excitement and disbelief, though she's slightly distorted through the phone. "That's—wait, hold on. What's the name of the place? That looks just like my friend's shop."

Namgyu blinks, processing her every word in slow motion while his pulse quickens beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Huh?" He glances around, zeroing in on the sign above the counter, squinting slightly so he could read it. "It's called, uh... Chan's Chicken." A pause. "Why?"

"No wayyy." Another pause. The sound of footsteps. "I'm literally ten minutes away. I used to go there all the time after my shifts—my friend's parents own it. Don't leave yet, okay?"

Namgyu’s mind goes blank. Steam rises from the chicken. His cola sweats.

"What?"

"I'm already halfway there!" She laughs. Namgyu can hear her breathing pick up. The sound of footsteps again, but they're faster now. She's running. "Stay put. You better not ghost me or I'm gonna tell Seowan that the assassin abandoned the mediator in her time of need—save some of the spicy garlic for me!"

She hangs up before he can even answer.

Namgyu freezes for a second, unmoving. Then he stares at his phone, dumbfounded as he slowly brings it away from his ear. There's a slow, crawling feeling tugging at the base of his neck.

She's coming. Here. Right now.

He looks at the basket of chicken, then at the door. Thinks briefly about leaving—another common theme for Namgyu. He doesn't do this shit. Casual meetups or friendly drop-ins, let alone unexpected dinners.

But his legs don't move. A passive sort of bravery.

So he stays.

Daeun arrives seven minutes later, face slightly flushed from the walk, her hair loose and a little windblown. She spots him instantly. Flashes a grin at him as she slides into the seat across from him.

"Heyyy," she says, slipping off her light jacket. She peeks over at the basket. "Wow. You didn't even touch the spicy yet. What a considerate guy."

"I did." He grabs one while she watches, taking a huge bite. He chews it with his mouth open. "You're slow as hell."

"Slow?" She snorts. "I ran as fast as I could!"

"Did I ask?"

She doesn't respond. Instead, she reaches over and steals a drumstick without asking. He watches, momentarily stunned. She takes a bite and makes a face of bliss.

"It's so good!"

Namgyu leans back, one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair.

"So. No 'thank you?' Or is mooching off of other people's money a normal thing for you?"

She narrows her eyes at him, waving him off. "Oh, relax. I'll pay you back after."

"No," Namgyu says suddenly. It comes out too fast, a little too loud. He recovers soon after, clearing his throat. "I don't need anyone seeing me shake down a fucking girl for cash over a few pieces of chicken... I got it."

"Oh?" Daeun tilts her head with mock surprise, leaning in. "I didn't know you were such a gentleman!"

Sarcasm, clearly. Namgyu hates that it makes him smile.

"Thank you, Namgyu," she adds right after.

They fall into a bit of silence. She finishes her first piece of chicken and then reaches for another one right after, but her hand pauses mid air. She sniffs once discreetly, giving Namgyu a curious look. The scent of chicken wanes for a bit, giving an opportunity for the combination of smoke, alcohol, and cologne from Namgyu's night activities to drift over to her.

"So," she starts, trying to appear casual, "What were you up to today?"

Namgyu brushes her off. "Nothing much." He pops a piece of radish in his mouth. "Work."

"Uh-huh. And where's that?" she asks him for what feels like the hundredth time.

"None of your business."

She leans closer, resting her chin on her palm, studying him more closely. Her eyes move to his clothes, looking him up and down discreetly. He's wearing all black—tight slacks and a partially untucked dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. She can see a thin silver chain glinting over his collarbone, a little more visible than it's ever been before. She realizes that this is probably the first time she's seen him in something even slightly dressed up—something other than sweats, baggy jeans, an oversized hoodie, or black shirt #587.

"Well, what's with the outfit?"

Namgyu raises an eyebrow. "My outfit? I'm just wearing black."

"I know that. You're always wearing black. It's just that you're like... dressed up."

Namgyu looks up from his chicken. Scrunches his face up like she just insulted him. "I'm literally wearing a shirt and fucking pants. It's really not that crazy."

She laughs. "I'm just saying. The outfit, it's... different from what I'm used to seeing you wear." Namgyu narrows his eyes at her, curls his lip like he's about to say something nasty. Daeun puts her hands up jokingly, as if to shield herself. "It's a compliment! A compliment! I swear!" Then she gives him an exaggerated thumbs up. Smiles. "You look nice. A very mysterious vibe. I like it."

He shifts in his seat automatically. "Okay."

"I mean—" She gestures to his outfit. "I've never seen you look so snazzy."

"You call this 'snazzy?'"

"Well, for a while I thought you only owned black shirts and, like, one pair of jeans."

He clicks his tongue. "I have multiple pairs."

Daeun grins at him, picking up another piece of chicken. "You smell like smoke. And sweat."

"Thanks," he mutters, deadpan. "That a compliment, too?"

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," she says, chewing thoughtfully. "It fits in with your mysterious vibe."

"You're making fun of me."

"Maybe a little bit." She tilts her head. "I'm serious, though. It's a nice look for you." She points at his hair. "The ponytail is cute, too."

Namgyu doesn't respond, but he feels his face heat up a little bit. He takes a sip of his cola, pretending that the chicken is just too spicy.

She leans in, one elbow on the table. Tries one more time. "Come on... what kind of work's got you dressing up like that?"

"How many more times are you gonna ask me that? I'm still not telling you." He snorts.

"Mysterious," she says, dragging out every syllable.

"Drop it."

"Let me guess. Server? Actually, no. You're too mean for that. DJ?"

He smirks, laughing a little under his breath. So Daeun knows she's wrong.

"I'll figure it out," she says, eyes glittering.

She drops it, finally, returning her attention to the food.

"This is really good. It's a shame that your photo was so tragic—it barely captured the chicken's beauty. Way too dark."

He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Didn't know I was submitting it for critique."

"You clearly know nothing about the art of taking beautiful pictures of food. Here," she starts, placing her chicken down before picking up her phone. "Let me show you."

She angles her phone, taps the screen a little to get the brightness just right, and snaps a picture with the flash on. She sends it to him, and his phone dings.

His phone is face up on the counter, so he peeks over to unlock it, clicking her photo.

He snorts again. "Yeah, okay. Sure. It looks better than mine. That what you wanted to hear?"

Across from him, Daeun's mouth hangs open, her brows furrowed as she stares him down.

"What?"

"Seowan's nurse?" she reads aloud, scandalized. "Is that seriously what you my name is in your phone?"

Namgyu blinks, looking down at his phone, at the contact name sitting at the top of the screen.

"Oh, yeah."

He shakes his head a little, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean, it's true, isn't it? You are his nurse."

"That's all you see me as?" she huffs.

Then, she snatches his phone without asking, faster than Namgyu can react. He tenses immediately.

"What the hell are you doing?" he barks, swiping for it like he'd just been robbed.

"Fixing this crime."

"Are you fucking twelve?" A few other patrons look over at the two of them, a bit startled. Namgyu notices immediately and feels a heat crawling up his neck. He relaxes, then says again through gritted teeth, "You are his nurse."

She clicks a few buttons without saying anything, angling the screen away from him. Namgyu just watches her fingers move, a vague sort of panic gripping him.

"Give it back," he mutters, leaning forward.

She does.

He looks down to see what she's done.

Her new contact name:

💊Jung Daeun🦭the Mediator!😼

"The hell is this?"

"My name. Because, you know, I have one." She smiles to herself, satisfied, picking up her chicken again.

He pauses for a moment, feels his face heat up for no reason.

Then, under his breath, "Why are girls so fucking dramatic?"

"If you care that much, then change it," she says easily, her tone light.

He doesn't. Doesn't even pretend to delete it while she watches. Just puts his phone back on the table and goes back to picking at the radish.

She looks smug about it for a good couple minutes, practically glowing as she nibbled on the last few bites of her current wing.

Then she wipes her fingers on a napkin, glancing at his phone still sitting between them. She tilts her head.

"Wait—do I get a contact photo, too?"

Namgyu blinked. "What."

"Oh, don't 'what' me. You've got that sad default gray circle above my name."

He opens his mouth to argue but struggles to find a real reason to care enough to say no. Not that he even minds in the first place, really. Still, there's something quiet in him telling him to resist for whatever fucking reason. He stares at her blankly, shoulders tight.

"You want me to take a picture of you."

She nods. "Duh."

"I don't even look at contacts like that."

"That doesn't matter."

Before he can say anything else, she sits up straighter, tucks her hair behind one ear, and does a ridiculous peace-sign pose with her cheeks puffed out and a stupid pout on her face. Namgyu blinks at her, his mouth curling into a smirk as he tries not to laugh.

"Now hurry, before I get shy."

"Annoying as hell," he mutters, but there's no heat to it.

She drops her pose for a second. "Oh, come on. I gave you a cute contact name and have a photo set for you. I can't just be a blank circle in yours."

He blinks slowly. "You have a photo of me?"

"Of course I do! I need a contact photo for everyone."

He sits for a second, letting his curiosity slowly edge just slightly ahead of his pride. He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice lower now. "Let me see it."

Daeun hesitates with a little smirk, then pulls out her phone and taps into her contacts. It takes her a second to find him, and when she holds it out, he stares at the screen blankly, processing.

It was a photo she must've taken without him noticing. It's from one of their days hanging out on the roof. He's squatting down by a bush, inspecting one of the random berries on it. His hair is tucked behind his ears, showing off his jaw. He's in the middle of saying something, evidenced by the slight parting of his lips. He's clearly caught off guard here, not looking at her, but the warm glow of the surrounding lights seems to hit him just right.

To be honest it was... not terrible.

"Huh," he mumbles. It's a small, quiet sound. He's not sure what he was expecting.

She hums, triumphant. "See. I can take pictures of more than just chicken."

He looks at the name below his photo—Kim Namgyu🐧the Assassin! He points.

"What's with the penguin in my name?"

She grins at him, narrowing her eyes. Realization hits him, and he rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply.

"Nevermind."

He leans back, waits. Then, with a grunt, grabs his phone and opens the camera, snapping a picture without warning.

Her eyes are mid-blink. Mouth slightly open, peace sign limp. Completely unready.

"Oh my god, Namgyu!" she yelps, reaching for it. "Delete that. I wasn't even looking."

He looks down at it, laughs. Loudly.

Then he tilts his screen towards her mockingly. "Nope. This is the one. I can feel it."

"I look like I'm glitching."

"Too bad."

She whines. "But I gave you a good one! I even picked a flattering angle."

He just shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket and picking up a piece of chicken for himself.

"I guess you're just not as photogenic as me," he says through a mouthful of food.

"You suck."

She got over it a few minutes later, kept picking at her chicken.

The night continues like that, the two of them hunched over the table as they ate. She talks occasionally, more than him, as usual. Namgyu just listens, interjecting every now and then, pretending like he wasn't quietly cataloging the way she laughs when the spicy hits too hard or how she pretends to be full when there's only one piece of chicken left.

Namgyu watches the last piece sit in the basket, watches as the steam slowly fades. Something inside of him is scared to eat it.

Because then it'll be finished.

Because then it'll mean Daeun has to go home.

There won't be any more reason for her to be here—to be with him.

The ice in his cola melts a little slower to give them more time.

***

The last piece of chicken is still in the basket when she finally stands to leave. She stops to brush crumbs from her shirt, then looks at him with a soft, lopsided expression.

"This was nice," she says. Simple. "I'm glad you texted."

"I didn't ask you to show up," he replies. It's not harsh—just automatic, a shield he hasn't quite figured out how to put down.

"I know. But I'm still glad I did." She smiles.

Namgyu watches her walk out. He lingers there for a while after she's left, watching his glass of cola sweat onto the table.

Something stirs inside of him, the invisible chain on his throat tightening.

I'm glad you did, too.

Another thing he won't say.

***

The apartment is too quiet again. Namgyu is stretched out on the couch, an arm slung over his face and a soda sweating in his hand. The glow of the TV casts pale blue shadows over the ceiling. The sound is low—some rerun of a drama he doesn't care about. The actors on screen are crying about something he hadn't bothered to follow. It blurs into the background like distant traffic, white noise that made the apartment feel a little less empty.

He didn't get to see Seowan today. Another shift at the club ran late. Visitation hours ended before he could swing by. He already let Daeun know in the morning that he couldn't stop in, softening the blow to Seowan—news that the assassin wouldn't be coming with any tales or quests today.

It always made him feel like shit—going a day without hearing his voice, without at least seeing him breathe.

Namgyu sighs, running a hand down his face. His fingers find his phone where it's sitting facedown on his chest.

He takes a swig from his can, grimaces right after. Warm.

He glances at his phone, checks the time, then does the math in his head that he doesn't even need to do anymore.

8:42pm. She's off work. Got off 72 minutes ago. He tells himself that he's just curious.

He looks at their conversation, stares at the emoji parade she'd put in her contact name. He still hadn't changed it. wasn't planning to, either.

Her last text to him is another drawing Seowan had made. It's a dragon. To be honest, it doesn't really look that good, but he'd complimented it anyways. That'd earned him a smiley cat emoji.

For some reason, he can't stop doing this—rereading their texts. He does it a lot when he's bored.

Exhibit A: right now.

He scrolls up and down, pauses on a stupid meme she'd sent him last week, and then catches himself smiling. Suddenly, he freezes, letting the phone fall facedown on his chest as he sits up straighter on the couch. He looks around frantically like there was anyone around who could've possibly seen that, like he wasn't completely alone.

He lets out a shaky breath and grabs his phone, gripping it tightly before throwing it a few feet away. It lands on the carpet with a quiet thud.

"What the hell am I doing," he mutters.

The TV drones on.

***

[10:52pm] He types: "U up" Deletes it.

Tries again: "I cant sleep idk y"

Deletes that, too. Tries again. "Did u ever watch that one movie about"—

Delete. Delete. Delete.

He doesn't even let himself attempt to finish the last one, just lets his arm fall back onto the mattress and stares at the ceiling like it'll make him any less lonely.

[11:04pm] Picks up the phone. Puts it down.

[11:08pm] Picks it up again. Opens their texts. Closes it. Opens it again. Swipes back to his home screen and just stares at the apps there like he gives a single shit. Puts it down.

[11:11pm] "Make a wish, dumbass," he says to no one in particular.

He's not used to this—missing people. Wanting to hear someone's voice. Wanting to talk—and not because he needed something from them, or anything. Just... because.

His list of people he misses is short. Seowan's at the top of it.

He can't even begin to name when it happened, but without him noticing, Daeun had snuck her way onto it.

And somehow, some way, she'd managed to climb her way to the summit.

Suddenly, a picture forms in his mind:

There's a little Seowan perched on the mountain of Namgyu's heart—at the very peak, of course! He dangles his feet, yawns, adjusts his glasses, and goes back to his studying. Suddenly, a puff of air—an even littler Daeun materializes right next to him! They gasp. Wave at each other. They're hugging now. Oh, wow, they're dancing! I didn't know Seowan had moves like that—oh, hey! They're waving up at the sky now, up at Namgyu! Their voices are small, but he can hear them. They're saying they miss Namgyu and that they love Namgyu and that they wanna spend time with Namgyu and—

"FUCKKK," Namgyu groans loudly, loud enough that getting a noise complaint wouldn't seem outrageous, drags it out like he's in pain—he kind of is—and repeatedly slams his head back against the pillow.

The image disappears in a cloud of smoke, leaving Namgyu in its wake. He's breathing heavy, hair sprawled out across his pillow as he stares up at the ceiling intensely.

Namgyu closes his eyes. Counts to ten. Gives himself a second to calm down and scrub... whatever the hell that was from his mind.

Then he wishes something he'd never say out loud, something that makes his face scrunch up, embarrassed even though it's a thought that only exists in the privacy of his own head.

He stretches his arm out, picks up the phone, and puts it on his chest. Waits.

[11:20pm] He opens his eyes. Still can't sleep.

So he picks up his phone. Unlocks it. It stays on, this time.

He holds his breath without even realizing he's doing it and clicks on her name. He stares at her contact image for a moment, involuntarily pictures the little Seowan and Daeun waving up at him, and then he's there again. Standing just on the cusp of being fucking brave. He toes the line, digging at it with his shoe. Stares at it for a few seconds longer, closes his eyes—and then finally jumps.

He presses the call button before he can talk himself down. Immediately regrets it.

The sound of the dial tone hits him like a slap. All the air he'd been holding rushes out of him.

Shit. Shit.

She's probably fucking asleep. Like a normal person.

He doesn't even have anything to say to her, doesn't have a reason for wanting to talk to her.

He lowers the phone, about to hang up—when the call connects.

"Hello?" Daeun sounds a little breathless, a little surprised, though he can still hear the sleep lacing her voice. “Namgyu?"

A pause. His throat feels dry, like every word he could've ever thought to say had been sucked from his mouth.

"Yeah."

She waits for him to continue. He hears her breathing on the other end of the line.

"...Did something happen?"

"No," he says quickly, immediately hating how defensive it sounds. "Nothing. I just..." He sits up in bed, suddenly feeling sick. He rubs the back of his neck, pulls his knees up to his chest. His voice comes out rough. "I didn't see him today." Namgyu mentally kicks himself. He'd told her that already via text.

"Oh. Right." Her voice is groggy. Soft. A pause. She breathes in like she's trying to wake herself up. "Your shift ran late?"

He nods before remembering that she can't see him. "Yeah."

A beat of silence.

She speaks again, this time more gently. "Is that why you called?"

Namgyu opens his mouth, then closes it again. He's not sure what he means by it. He could've said yes. Could've said no. Or blamed it on a butt dial or something. Instead—

"Just... didn't feel like sitting here, I guess."

Something in the line shifts.

"You know," she says lightly. "You're allowed to admit you're lonely and want to talk."

He makes a sound, somewhere in between a scoff and a laugh. His voice rises involuntarily, and he tightens his grip on the phone. "I wasn't lonely."

"Mhm."

"I wasn't."

"Sure."

He shuts his eyes and lets her teasing fill the space. It doesn't piss him off, surprisingly.

He coughs. "What are you doing now?"

"Namgyu... I was asleep."

He flinches a little. Rubs his thumb along the seam of his pillow case.

"Oh, yeah."

He hears the rustling of sheets, probably her trying to get comfortable again. A quiet breath.

Namgyu's face heats up. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. "Uh. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, no, it's fine. You didn't," she says softly through a layer of sleep. "I mean, you did... but it's okay." She yawns softly on the other end. "So what are you doing?"

"Nothing. I just... couldn't sleep. So I'm sitting here."

"Mm." Daeun sounds like she's slowly drifting back to the peace he'd so rudely ripped her from.

Another silence. He doesn't fill it. Doesn't know how. He feels stupid now. Namgyu presses his fingers to his temple. What the fuck is he even doing? Waking her up at 11pm for nothing?

"Sorry," he mutters again, squeezing his eyes shut like it'll scrub everything away. "I'm gonna try to sleep now."

But before he can end the call, she speaks again.

"No, no. It's okay. I really don't mind. Let's talk." Her voice is a little clearer now. But only a little.

He lets out a deep exhale. Fuck, she was too nice. Pretending she wasn't exhausted just for his sake.

"Nah. I should let you go. I can't even remember why I called." His body is screaming at him to just shut the fuck up and end the damn call, but he quickly adds, "Seriously, my bad. I didn't mean to bother you this late."

Her response is instant—"You're never bothering me."

She says it softly, though her voice is still firm, like she needs him to understand.

His jaw tightens. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Swallows around the lump forming in his throat.

Then the words get loose, claws their way from his mouth before he can grab them and shove them back down.

"It's not... weird? That I called?"

He feels stupid the second it leaves his mouth, like a needy five-year-old. He presses his lips together tightly, face burning, pulse pounding, prays that his mattress would open up and swallow him whole.

She doesn't respond right away. He hears more rustling, probably her sitting up in bed.

Then—"Of course not."

Namgyu exhales sharply, then presses, keeps going, ignores the way his heart is pounding craters into his chest.

"Why?" His voice is breathless, disbelieving, like he's daring her to take it back.

She smiles, though he can't see. It's one of the easiest questions in Daeun's life.

"Because you're my friend."

He almost drops his phone.

"Oh. Yeah," he says again. Simple.

Like the world wasn't buzzing around him.

Like he doesn't feel like running around the entire fucking neighborhood.

She doesn't say anything else, just makes a small humming noise.

They don't talk for a bit. Namgyu brings his phone away from his ear just enough for him to see the screen. He glances at the call timer, then feels stupid for watching it.

"You gonna hang up still?" she asks quietly, just a few moments later.

He swallows. "I guess."

Another stretch of silence.

Then, softly, still bogged down by the promise of sleep, she says, "Not even gonna say goodnight?"

He blinks, his mouth falling open slightly. "Huh?"

"You called me at 11pm and you're not gonna say goodnight? Kind of rude."

He rolls his eyes even though she can't see.

"Fine," he mumbles. "Night."

There's a pause.

"Say it properly."

He exhales sharply, half-annoyed, half something else. A few beats pass.

When he finally speaks, his voice comes out low and unnaturally soft, devoid of its usual roughness.

“...Goodnight, Daeun.” He pauses on her name without meaning to.

Silence.

It dawns on him, then, that it’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud.

On the other end, Daeun smiles, soft and slow. It dawns on her, too.

“Goodnight, Namgyu.”

He stays on the line for a few seconds longer than he needs to, then finally ends it.

Her name glows on the screen for just a second before it fades.

Seowan's nurse.

The mediator.

Daeun.

Long after the line goes dead, Namgyu is still staring at the ceiling.

Don’t call her.

Don’t say her name.

Two rules in one night—a Namgyu world record.

He takes a fistful of his shirt and quietly counts the beats of his heart.

***

The screen is too bright. The air is too hot. And the photobooth? It’s way too fucking expensive.

“10,000 fucking won for two pieces of paper? Who do I fucking look like? Lee Byunghun?”

Daeun nudges him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Oh, relax. You’re so cheap, bro.”

“I’m literally getting robbed right in front of you, and that’s what you have to say to me.”

She rolls her eyes, reaches into her purse. “Here, I’ll get it—“

Ding.

Daeun looks up to see that Namgyu had tapped his card. A smirk slowly spreads across her face. She knew that’d work.

She swipes through, humming as she tries to decide on a filter.

“Dumb. Ugly. Stupid. Too pink. Dumb again. Ugly again.”

“Your commentary is very much unhelpful and unnecessary, Namgyu.”

“Then hurry up and pick one already,” he says without any heat.

She settles on an RPG-themed frame. Surrounding them are various video game themed motifs—a fire-breathing dragon, treasure chest, a few crystals, a potion, so on so forth.

Namgyu cocks an eyebrow. “That one?”

“Seowan will love it!” she says, leaning back against the seat once she finished tapping the screen. She takes a second to tuck her hair behind her ears, takes out the face-framing pieces, practices her smile.

Namgyu stares at himself in the camera, looks side to side. He tucks his hair in, then untucks it.

“Shit. My hair’s getting way too long.” He pauses. “Should I cut it?”

Daeun shakes her head, tapping him frantically without tearing her eyes off the screen. “No, I think it’s cute,” she says quickly. “Let’s figure out our poses! It’ll start taking pictures soon.”

Namgyu’s stomach flips a little, like he’d just stepped off a curb weird.

“Okay.”

Daeun raises her arm, curving it a bit. She leans into Namgyu so their heads are touching.

“In the first one, let’s make a heart!”

“No. That’s stupid.”

In front of them the countdown begins.

“Namgyu,” she says through her picture perfect smile. “Do. The. Heart.”

He exhales, then does it.

A few minutes later, Namgyu and Daeun are two photo strips richer.

Daeun stares at it as they make their way through the rest of the mall, smiling wide. It’d turned out way cuter than she hoped.

Namgyu doesn’t smile in most of them, but in the last one, while frantically trying to get into another pose, they’d knocked heads. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make them look at each other stupidly.

It’s slightly blurry because they’re both laughing in it. Thankfully, she's still able to make out his face through the blur.

His eyes are crinkled and his nose is scrunched, one hand pressed to her shoulder as he pretends to push her away.

He's caught completely off guard—a wide grin spread across his features, mid laugh and post “oww”—showing teeth in a way she’s not able to photograph often.

It’s not what most people would call a perfect photo—maybe not even a good one, actually—but there’s something about the way he’s smiling that makes her heart beat just a little bit faster.

“Hey.”

He hums.

“I like spending time with you, Namgyu.”

A pause.

Then a small, breathy laugh.

“I like spending time with you, too, Daeun.”

Ending notes copied from my Ao3:

in the ending scene, imagine namgyu and daeun walking away from the photobooth with the ohshc guitar riff playing, it’s a warm summer day, and as soon as namgyu says daeun’s name, it pans up to the sky and shit like a corny anime and the lyrics start