Chapter Text
Sehnsucht: An intense yearning for something far off and undefinable.
His stomach turns when he blinks hazy eyes open, dreading yet hoping for her absence (presence, his heart murmurs in the drowning rush of white noise that fills his ears when he sees her tearstained face). Jeong-hyeok channels that painfully sweet nausea into anger, ignoring the twisting feeling in his chest as Seri leaves his hospital room, her tearchoked voice echoing in his ears.
Jeong-hyeok is good at ignoring his heart; he’s had lots of practice in the last seven years.
What he can’t ignore, however, is hers.
A tendril of what feels like regret curls around his chest and squeezes, when the nurse laughingly recounts Seri’s tears.
“She cried when he didn’t wake up. And she cried when he woke up. She’s probably still crying now.”
He doesn’t know what to do with the information, so he stays silent.
Gwang-beom comes by for a visit, his room a mere two doors away. Jeong-hyeok welcomes the distraction, asks about his leg and recovery, thanks his first lieutenant for his efforts. Because his men really have gone above and beyond, putting their lives on the line to answer a call of duty that is not theirs.
Gwang-beom is a man of few words, one of the reasons Jeong-hyeok sees in him a kindred spirit (and chooses him as a patrol partner).
He recounts the entire incident in succinct detail, how Seri-dongmu decided that she was the only one who could drive to the hospital, how she chose to stay and donate blood, how she missed her flight.
“I’m glad she made those choices, Captain, or we might have lost you. Where is Seri-dongmu, anyway?”
Jeong-hyeok doesn’t know what to do with the information, doesn’t know how to answer, so he shakes his head and stays silent.
Gwang-beom senses his conflict and excuses himself, limping back to his room.
Jeong-hyeok decides to give Seri time alone and wait, but dinner has been served and the sky has darkened, and there is still no sign of her.
As the rain starts to rattle the windowpanes, he decides that he’s going to find her, gunshot wound notwithstanding. Sudden fear grips him: what if she’s been arrested?
His search for her is frantic, driven by nightmarish visions of her being captured and tortured by Cho Cheol Gang.
In the end, Jeong-hyeok finds her (physically) safe, out in the cold. He heaves a sigh of relief, suddenly able to breathe again. He clutches his IV stand and heads out the door, preparing to lecture her on her (lack of) sense of self-preservation.
His intent, however, vanishes like Seri’s fogging breath as she laments aloud her predicament.
“I have no way to leave.”
It strikes a nucleus in Jeong-hyeok he didn’t know existed; an elusive emotion that gathers and coalesces as she turns and sees him. It wraps itself around his heart even more firmly, as if to say I’m not letting go.
Despite her misery, Seri’s self-pity disappears in a heartbeat when she sees him, gunshot wound still fresh and somehow out in the biting cold. She chastizes him, but he doesn’t hear her words. All he hears is her voice, thick with hours of tears. Tears shed for him - because of him.
Yet, Seri forgives him so easily, his wellbeing more of a priority than her feelings, than going home. She still hurts from his words, he can tell, but she pushes that aside, wrapping her arm around his to guide him back indoors.
Jeong-hyeok stops, and looks at her, eyes rimmed red with exhaustion and tears. His ignored heart clenches, as if to contain his tumultuous feelings.
But then she looks at him too, and she sees. She sees the unspoken wistfulness that spills from his eyes, belying his stoic expression, and she responds in kind.
“For once, I wanted to protect you too.”
and that, somehow, is the last push that his emotions need to spill forth.
Jeong-hyeok’s eyes drop down to her lips, and before he can second guess himself, he’s brushing his lips against hers. For a heartstopping moment, he thinks he’s made a terrible mistake, that she doesn’t feel the same way. Then Seri leans in, just as he’s about to pull back, recapturing his lips with hers.
His heart doesn’t hurt anymore. Not right now.
Jeong-hyeok doesn’t know how long they stand there, kissing in the cold, under the moonlight, accompanied by the rain. Time melts away, lost in the harmony of their lips slotting together; eternity is insufficient. Music hums through his veins. This is his last Clair de Lune manifested.
Seri is the one who breaks the kiss. She gasps for air, breath misting in plumes between them. Her tears have dried, although her eyes and nose remain red-tinged. Silence hangs heavy between them. Her eyes speak of trepidation, confusion, wonder.
Slender fingers trace her own swollen lips, as if wondering whether the touch of his to hers had been real. It makes Jeong-hyeok want to replace her fingers with his fingers. It makes him want to replace them with his mouth.
When Seri’s gaze dips from his eyes to his lips, he knows she wants it too. As his nose and lips touch her face, however, the cold jolts reality back into her, and his health becomes her number one priority.
“Ri Jeong-hyeok-ssi… you’re freezing; you really shouldn’t be out here in this condition.”
Jeong-hyeok tries to protest, wanting nothing more than to return to that frission-laden moment, but a wave of dizziness hits him, and she refuses to allow him any further liberties.
“Look at how pale you are – don’t you dare tell me you’re fine!”
It must be a sign of how exhausted he really is, that Jeong-hyeok lets her strongarm him back indoors, tucking herself under his good arm as a human crutch, IV stand between them.
A hollow feeling (disappointment) gathers in Jeong-hyeok’s gut amid the miasma that fogs his mind, but he catches a low mutter that fills it right up.
He’s sure it wasn’t meant for his ears.
“There’ll be time to kiss later.”
His cheeks warm and he can’t help the curve of his lips.
Jeong-hyeok lets Seri help him through the dimly lit hospital corridor and tuck him into bed, secretly relishing the way she fusses over him.
Seri turns the lights down in the room, the only source of light now coming from the adjoining bathroom where she is washing up.
Amid the sleep that’s about to descend upon him, Jeong-hyeok hears the shuffle of her feet as she presumably heads for the makeshift floor mattress to spend the night.
The haze of sleep that had been threatening vanishes, however, as he feels his mattress sink with the weight of her sitting next to his prone body. He keeps his eyes shut, feigning sleep, even though she probably can’t see him in the weak light seeping in from the bathroom.
A hand softly brushes his hair away from his face, and Jeong-hyeok struggles to refrain from twitching as Seri takes his good hand in hers. Her voice is barely a murmur alongside the rattle of the raindrops pounding against the windowpane.
“Ri Jeong-hyeok-ssi, do you know how important you’ve become to me? No one has ever protected me like this; it makes me want to protect you too. So let me be selfish, okay? Let me protect you too.”
Jeong-hyeok thinks his heart might burst.
And then, the gentlest pressure of lips against his forehead, Seri’s hair curtaining down and enveloping him in the floral scent of the shampoo he bought her at the market a lifetime ago.
As she pulls away, Jeong-hyeok’s fingers curl around the hand that she's placed in his, and he opens his eyes. He says the most selfish thing he’s ever dared to say to her.
“Don’t go.”