Chapter Text
The low hum of the radiology machines usually faded into white noise after a while, soft and constant, like a distant lullaby.
The lights in the hallway outside were dimmed to that soft twilight glow hospitals used at night, but in here, Seungmin’s office was nearly pitch-black. Felix had curled himself onto the little loveseat in the corner hours ago, cocooned under his hoodie and the thin throw blanket Seungmin always left here. His legs were folded up against his chest, cheek pressed to the armrest.
It wasn’t the first time he’d stolen this couch to catch a few hours of sleep between shifts, and honestly, Seungmin had bought it for exactly this reason. But it still startled him awake when the door clicked open and light spilled across the floor.
Felix blinked up blearily at Seungmin, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise before instantly pulling into a scowl.
“You’re kidding me.” Seungmin groaned, tossing his bag onto the counter and yanking off his coat. "You’re here? On my couch? Do you know where I just spent the night?”
Felix blinked slowly, still half-asleep. “…One of the on-call rooms?”
“Exactly,” Seungmin snapped, buttoning up his shirt with jerky movements. “Those uncomfortable ass slabs they call beds. If I’d known you were camped out here, I would’ve gone home.”
He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and threw it at Felix, smacking him in the face.
“Minnie,” Felix groaned softly, rubbing at his cheek as he sat up and stretched his stiff neck. “You do realize you can’t avoid our apartment forever, right?”
Seungmin shot him a withering look, already tying his scrub bottom drawstring. “Not until Changbin gives me my key back.”
Felix sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He’d had this conversation with Seungmin three times this week alone. “You know he was our cosigner, right? He’s entitled to a key. It’s not like he broke in and stole it.”
“He stole it from my drawer,” Seungmin hissed, dropping onto the couch beside Felix with a dramatic thud.
Felix bit back a laugh.
“Changbin’s literally your boyfriend,” Felix reminded him, voice still soft and groggy, “and we both know you’re not changing the locks.”
Seungmin scowled harder but said nothing, throwing an arm over Felix’s shoulders and tugging him into his side. It was ritual at this point, come in, complain about Changbin, sulk, repeat.
Felix hummed faintly, head naturally dropping against Seungmin’s shoulder as the radiologist launched into his usual rant about how “boundaries exist for a reason” and “just because we live together doesn’t mean Changbin gets free rein of my drawer space.”
He didn’t bother listening this time. He knew how this would go. Seungmin would vent, Felix would nod, and in a week or two, Changbin would be back at their apartment, snoring into Seungmin’s neck like nothing had happened.
Felix let his eyes fall shut again, letting the steady cadence of Seungmin’s voice lull him back toward sleep.
The next time he woke, Seungmin was shaking his shoulder.
“C’mon,” Seungmin murmured, tugging him upright. “If you don’t get food, you’re gonna pass out while giving out stickers.”
Felix groaned as he stretched, his back popping in protest. He scrubbed at his eyes, yawning so wide it made his jaw ache, and followed Seungmin down the empty hallway toward the cafeteria.
The smell of burnt coffee marked their arrival.
Felix wrinkled his nose, but Seungmin ignored it, scanning the room like he was already judging which table had the least number of surgical residents. They spotted Jeongin hunched over his laptop in a corner, papers and textbooks spread chaotically across the table.
The intern looked up as they approached, beaming when he saw them.
“Felix-hyung!” Jeongin shoved out a chair for him before going back to highlighting something in his notes.
“Hey, Innie,” Felix said as he dropped into the seat beside him, leaning over to glance at the mess of diagrams. “What’re you working on?”
Jeongin’s eyes lit up instantly. “Hyunjin’s letting me observe a facial construction today! He said it’s gonna be insane, like, microvascular grafting and everything.”
Felix hummed softly, eyes tracing over the complicated diagram of arteries and muscle flaps. Just looking at it made his temples throb faintly. He really should’ve been studying last night instead of napping in radiology.
But, balancing part-time med school with full-time nursing shifts wasn’t easy, and he could only squeeze in classes where he could. It was exhausting, sure, but Felix knew every sleepless night would be worth it when he finally had “MD” behind his name.
“You’ll do great,” Felix murmured, patting Jeongin’s arm.
Before Jeongin could answer, Seungmin reappeared, balancing three trays piled with eggs, fruit cups, and enough coffee to fuel an entire floor.
“Eat,” he commanded, dropping a cup in front of Felix and Jeongin each.
Felix gratefully sipped the bitter brew, letting the warm steam fog his glasses a little. Jeongin was still gushing about the procedure when they fell into casual conversation, trading bits of hospital gossip. Who was secretly dating who, who accidentally mixed up charts, which attending got caught yelling at a vending machine at three a.m.
Felix was mid-laugh when a sharp voice cut in.
“What do you three think you’re doing?”
They all froze, turning slowly to find Minho standing over them, arms crossed, and wearing his usual intimidating trauma surgeon glare.
“Uh,” Jeongin stammered. “We—uh—breakfast?”
Minho’s gaze stayed steady for a long moment, before it broke, softening into an easy smile.
“The cafeteria coffee’s garbage,” he said simply. “Come on. Coffee cart outside’s better.”
Felix giggled as relief flooded through him, grabbing his tray and hopping up immediately. He hooked an arm through Minho’s, ignoring the curious looks from nearby tables.
Most of the hospital was terrified of Minho—his reputation as the unshakable, blunt trauma surgeon preceded him—but Felix knew better. Underneath the perfectly pressed scrubs and sharp tongue, Minho was a softy.
(Especially when it came to Felix).
By the time they reached the coffee cart, Felix was already halfway fantasizing about the mountain of sugar he was about to dump in his cup. But Minho, of course, had other plans.
“Alright, Bok-ah,” Minho said, pausing before the line and crossing his arms. “Pop quiz.”
Felix blinked, confused. “What?”
“You want your coffee?” Minho raised an eyebrow. “Answer three chemistry questions first.”
Felix groaned dramatically, leaning against Seungmin like his legs had given out. “Minho, please. My brain’s still asleep.”
“Better wake it up then,” Minho’s mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk. “First question, what’s the difference between ionic and covalent bonds?”
Felix whines under his breath but managed to mutter, “ionic bonds transfer electrons, covalent bonds share them.”
Minho hummed in approval. “Second, Henderson-Hasselbalch equation.”
Felix groaned louder, but rattled it off anyway, his fingers fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie: “pH equals pKa plug log of base over acid. Obviously.”
“Last one.” Minho tilted his head. “Name the four main buffer systems in the human body.”
Felix blinked, rubbing at his temples. “Uh… bicarbonate, phosphate, protein, and hemoglobin.”
Minho studied him for a beat longer before finally reaching out and ruffling his hair, making Felix scowl and duck away.
“Good boy,” Minho teased, passing him his coffee. “Go rot your teeth.”
Felix grabbed it with a triumphant grin, dumping in an obscene amount of creamer and sugar until Seungmin muttered something about “diabetes in a cup.”
When Minho finished paying for everyone’s drinks, Jeongin and Seungmin both murmured quick thanks, and the four of them lingered by the cart for a few minutes, sipping quietly in the cool morning air.
That’s when Minho suddenly went stiff beside Felix.
Felix frowned, turning slightly just in time to catch the faint flicker of sadness on Minho’s face. He followed Minho’s line of sight and spotted Jisung approaching the cart from the other side, his head ducked, and deliberately avoiding looking their way.
Felix sighed softly and nudged Minho’s arm. “What happened?”
Minho exhaled slowly, eyes still locked on Jisung. “We had a fight.”
Felix stayed quiet, waiting.
“Jisung’s been worried about… rumors,” Minho’s voice was low and rough at the edges. “You know how this place is, nurses gossiping at the desk, residents whispering in lounges. He doesn’t want people talking about us.”
Felix frowned deeper. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I told him the same thing,” Minho said with a humorless laugh. “I told him to stop worrying about what other people think. That the only thing that matters is how we feel. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.”
Felix winced.
“One thing led to another, and…” Minho sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, “…we’re on a break.”
Seungmin, sipping his coffee, raised an eyebrow. “How long’s this ‘break’ supposed to last?”
Minho shrugged, his gaze flickering back to where Jisung stood in line. “I don’t know. I’m leaving that up to him. If he’s not ready to come out, that’s fine. That’s his choice. But I’m not hiding who I am because a few nurses can’t mind their business.”
Felix nodded softly, squeezing Minho’s forearm before breaking away to cross the short distance to Jisung.
The surgery resident noticed him only when Felix stopped beside him. “Hey,” Felix murmured gently. “How’re you doing?”
Jisung’s shoulders slumped slightly, his jaw tight. “I’ll be fine,” he said shortly. “I’ll get over it.” He grabbed his coffee from the cart as soon as it was ready and muttered, “I’ve got surgery,” before brushing past Felix without meeting his eyes.
Felix turned, watching him keep his head down as he walked right by Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin without so much as a glance. His chest tightened. He hated seeing his friends fight, especially Minho and Jisung, who were usually so nauseatingly in love it made everyone else stupid by proximity.
He sighed and started back toward the group, but a sudden wail of sirens cut through the quiet.
His head whipped around just as an ambulance careened into the bay, its tires squealing against the pavement. The flashing red lights washed over the asphalt, harsh and dizzying, and before the vehicle had even fully stopped, Changbin was already sprinting toward the rear doors, white coat flaring behind him.
“Minho! Felix!” Changbin’s voice cracked through the morning air like a whip. “I need you both—now!”
Felix’s breath caught, and without thinking, he shoved his coffee into Seungmin’s hands, barely hearing the muttered protest, and bolted after Minho. His sneakers slapped hard against the pavement as adrenaline shoved the last remnants of sleep from his veins.
The back doors of the ambulance swung open with a clang, revealing chaos inside. Two paramedics were already unloading the stretcher, their hands steady but urgent. Strapped down in the center was a boy—maybe fourteen, maybe younger—pale as chalk, lips trembling, and a bruise already forming on his stomach.
“Fourteen-year-old male,” a paramedic rattled off as they began rolling the patient inside. “Front-seat passenger, restrained, high-speed MVC. Pelvic instability from the lap belt, possible internal bleeding. Vitals dropping, GCS fifteen, lungs clear, FAST inconclusive.”
Felix’s chest squeezed painfully as his eyes swept over the boy. The kid was shaking like a leaf, wide brown eyes darting frantically between their faces, breath coming in shallow gasps that bordered on hyperventilation. Blood-streaked fingers fisted tightly in the scratchy hospital blanket covering his lower half.
Felix slipped into step beside the stretcher, gloving up as they pushed through the ER doors. He leaned close, voice instinctively soft, pitched to be low and soothing.
“Hey sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching for the boy’s trembling hand. “You’re safe now, okay? We’ve got you.”
The boy’s glassy gaze locked onto his face. “M-my… my mom—”
Felix squeezed his hand gently, grounding him. “I’ll call her,” he promised, tone steady despite the chaos erupting around them. “First thing, I swear. Right now, we just need to take care of you. See that doctor right there?” He tilted his chin toward Minho, who was jogging alongside the stretcher, barking orders as his hands palpated the boy’s pelvis. “That’s Dr. Lee. He’s the best trauma surgeon in the hospital. You’re in the safest hands you could be.”
The boy hiccupped shakily, tears pooling in his lashes, but a faint nod jerked from his chin.
Inside the trauma bay, the air was thick with noise and motion, monitors shrieking, gloved hands moving with frantic precision, and clipped voices bouncing rapid-fire between tasks. Minho took command seamlessly, his voice sharp, but never panicked.
“Airway?”
“Patent but swelling,” the resident called back from the head of the bed, already preparing suction.
“Two large-bore IVs, twenty mL/kg bolus, now.”
Felix moved without thinking, his hands steady even as his heart thudded in his throat. He found the vein in one quick, practiced motion, sliding the catheter home while Changbin secured the other arm.
“BP’s dropping! 78 over 42!”
“Get me O-neg, two units, and type and cross him and send that up to the OR!” Minho snapped, eyes scanning the monitor while his other hand secured the pelvic binder tighter. “Someone page anesthesia, and prep the OR—we’re not wasting time down here!”
The boy whimpered softly, his body jerking at every poke and tug. Felix smoothed a hand over his damp hair, keeping his voice gentle even as alarms screamed around them.
“You’re doing amazing,” Felix murmured against his ear. “I know it hurts, I know it’s scary, but we’re almost there. I’m right here with you, okay?”
His breathing hitched, but Felix’s quiet reassurance seemed to steady him enough that they could finish attaching monitors and get fluids running.
Within minutes, his vitals stabilized just enough to make the transfer safe.
“OR’s prepped,” a nurse announced breathlessly from the doorway.
“Let’s move!” Minho barked.
They wheeled the stretcher down the hallway, Changbin at the head, Minho at the foot, and Felix jogging beside them. He kept the boy’s hand wrapped tightly in his own, feeling the faint squeeze back.
“Almost there, buddy,” Felix said. “They’re gonna fix you right up.”
The elevator ride up was short but unbearably tense, every beep of the monitor digging into Felix’s chest. When the doors slid open on the surgical floor, scrub nurses swarmed immediately, seamlessly taking over control of the stretcher.
Minho looked back at him just before disappearing behind the OR doors, sweat already dampening his hairline, and his gloves streaked faintly red.
“We’ll talk later,” Minho said quietly.
Felix nodded, this throat tight. “Yeah.”
Felix stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space they’d left behind. The echo of rushing footsteps faded, leaving only the hum of fluorescent lights and the soft beep of an elevator down the hall.
Finally, he sighed, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline ebbed away, leaving him shaky and wrung out. He turned, reached out, and pressed the button to call the elevator back.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Felix stepped inside, pressing the button for the ground floor.
The doors closed, and the sudden hush felt almost heavy after the chaos upstairs. He leaned back against the cool steel wall, letting his head tip back and his eyes flutter shut. The tension in his shoulders finally began to sink into something closer to fatigue. He wished, desperately, that he’d gotten more than a couple of hours on Seungmin’s couch last night.
Just a few seconds. Just enough time to breathe.
The elevator slowed, and the soft ding pulled his eyes open, but it wasn’t the sound that startled him fully awake.
“Good morning, baby.”
Felix’s gaze snapped to the doorway, and there he was.
Chan stood in the entrance of the elevator, leaning against the frame with one hand in the pocket of his scrubs, the other clutching his battered coffee thermos. His black scrub top clung just enough to the faint definition of his chest and shoulders, sleeves pushed up around his elbows. There was a tiredness around his eyes, but the soft, crooked smile tugging at his lips lit up his whole face, making his dimples peek out faintly. His short dark hair was a little mussed, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times on rounds.
The tension in Felix’s chest eased instantly. He couldn’t help the small, sleepy smile that curled onto his lips.
“Morning,” Felix murmured.
Chan stepped into the elevator, letting the doors slide shut behind him. Without hesitation, he set his coffee on the railing and pulled Felix into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the younger’s lips before tucking him close into a warm hug.
Felix melted against him immediately, arms winding around Chan’s waist as he buried his face into the crook of his neck. The familiar mix of faint soap, coffee, and hospital air clung to Chan’s skin, grounding and comforting all at once.
“Did you stay the night again?” Chan asked softly, his breath warm against Felix’s temple.
Felix hummed an affirmative sound, still refusing to let go.
Chan clicked his tongue, shifting one hand to smooth along the back of Felix’s head. “And why, exactly, did you do that?”
Felix sighed, the words muffled into Chan’s neck. “Covered for one of the ER nurses. Her kid was sick. Figured she needed the night more than I did.”
Chan groaned softly, resting his chin on Felix’s messy hair as his fingers combed lazily through the strands. “You’re too nice, you know that?”
Felix chuckled quietly, finally leaning back just enough to meet Chan’s eyes. “Mmh. Maybe.”
Chan brushed a stray piece of hair away from Felix’s forehead with his knuckles, and Felix smiled softly up at him before leaning in to kiss him again, slow and sweet.
When they parted, Chan’s eyes crinkled at the corners, dimples deepening as he smiled back. “Do you remember,” he murmured, voice low, “that the first time we met was in this elevator?”
Felix laughed under his breath, nodding without hesitation. “How could I forget? You were so grumpy back then.”
The tips of Chan’s ears went scarlet almost instantly. “I wasn’t grumpy,” he whined, pouting faintly. “I was just… going through a hard time.”
Felix giggled softly, tilting his head. “Mhm. Sure. That’s what you tell yourself.”
-
“Alright, princess,” he said softly to the small girl in the seat, his favorite oncology patient—eight years old, with her knitted pink hat and matching unicorn socks—“next stop, floor three. Just a quick chemo session, and then I promise I’ll get you a pudding cup.”
She grinned up at him, swinging her legs lazily as he pressed the button and turned the chair to face the door.
Just before the doors closed, a tall man stepped inside with dark scrubs, a stethoscope looped loosely around his neck, jaw set tight, and his brow furrowed in an expression that practically radiated ‘don’t talk to me.’
Felix straightened automatically, recognizing him from the whispered conversations at the nurse’s station. Dr. Bang Chan, the new pediatric attending everyone said was brilliant but… perpetually scowling.
It was the first time Felix had seen him in person.
He gave the man a tentative smile. “Morning, doctor.”
Chan only gave a curt nod before retreating to the back of the elevator, pulling out his tablet as if to make himself smaller in the corner.
Felix turned his attention back to the girl, who was watching Chan with exaggerated curiosity. After a beat, she whispered loudly, “Mr. Felix… why’s he so grumpy?”
Felix bit his lip, trying not to laugh, but he couldn’t stop the quiet giggle that escaped. “I dunno, sweet pea. Maybe he skipped breakfast.”
Her small giggle bubbled up, filling the elevator. But then—just as suddenly—the laughter stopped.
“Hey,” Felix murmured softly, leaning down to look at her. “You okay?”
Her little pink-knitted hat tilted as her head lolled slightly to the side. The color drained from her cheeks, lips parting soundlessly as she slurred, “M’tired…”
Felix’s stomach dropped.
“Hey—hey, stay with me, okay?” He immediately came around to the front of her chair, gently tapping her cheeks, trying to get her to focus. “Sweetheart, open your eyes for me. C’mon.”
She went limp.
Before Felix could panic further, Dr. Bang Chan was at his side, crouching down without a word.
“She’s breathing,” Dr. Bang Chan said quickly, fingers at her throat to check her pulse. “Strong heartbeat. I think she dropped her blood sugar too fast—does she have insulin on board?”
Felix nodded quickly, fumbling for the chart clipped to the back of her chair with trembling hands. “Yeah, she just dosed before we came down.”
Dr. Bang Chan hummed, glancing up. “This isn’t uncommon, then. Don’t worry, she’s okay.”
Felix let out a shaky breath, relief flooding him so fast his knees felt weak.
“You alright?” Dr. Bang Chan asked suddenly, noticing the way Felix’s hands still trembled where they gripped the chair.
Felix nodded quickly, ducking his head. “Sorry, I just— she’s one of my favorites. I’ve been working with her since diagnosis and…” He trailed off, embarrassed by the tightness in his throat.
Dr. Bang Chan’s expression softened, the faintest smile tugging at his lips for the first time since stepping into the elevator. “You care about her,” he said simply. “That’s not something you should apologize for. That’s what makes you a good nurse.”
Felix blinked at him, startled by the warmth in his tone, before offering a small smile of his own. “I’m Felix, by the way.”
“Chan,” he said with a small nod.
The elevator dinged softly, and the doors opened onto the chemo floor. They stepped out together, but split off down opposite hallways without another word.
Felix glanced back once, watching Chan disappear around the corner.
-
The doctors’ lounge was quiet this early in the morning, lit only by the soft hum of fluorescent bulbs that flickered faintly overhead. The faint smell of stale coffee clung stubbornly to the air, mixing with the sharp bite of antiseptic wipes and laundry starch from freshly laundered white coats.
Felix sank into the narrow bench pressed against the wall, folding one leg beneath him as he watched Chan move around the room with an ease born of habit.
Chan had claimed the locker farthest from the door, his own quiet corner of organized perfection in comparison to the chaos of the rest of the room. Felix rested his chin on his palm, gaze lingering as he watched the older man shrug off his jacket and drape it neatly inside before pulling on his white coat.
God, Felix loved watching him like this. There was something grounding about it, Chan’s steady, deliberate motions, the way his stethoscope caught faint slivers of light as he looped it around his neck, and the soft rasp of his sleeve against fabric as he buttoned his coat. It was routine, mundane, but comforting in a way Felix could never quite explain.
“Anything interesting happen last night?” Chan asked casually, his voice warm and quiet as he glanced at Felix through the mirror mounted on the locker door.
Felix yawned into his sleeve before replying, ticking cases off on his fingers with lazy precision. “Mmm… not really. Just the usual ER chaos. Couple gallstones. That guy with the lightbulb up his ass came back.”
Chan chuckled under his breath as he straightened his ID badge.
“And a ‘ruptured appendix’ that turned out to be gas,” Felix finished, shaking his head with a faint grin.
“Sounds like a classic night shift,” Chan said, voice faintly amused.
Felix hesitated, teeth tugging softly at his lower lip. There was one more thing he could mention, but… he debated it for a beat too long, because Chan noticed instantly.
He stopped what he was doing, one eyebrow arching as he turned slightly toward Felix. “Alright, Lix,” he said slowly, folding his arms. “Spit it out.”
Felix chuckled, shifting back against the bench, his grin tilting crooked. “It’s nothing bad,” he promised.
“Uh-huh.” Chan’s expression softened, but the suspicion didn’t leave his eyes.
Felix sighed, giving in. “That same cop was on again last night,” he said, tone deliberately casual. “You know, the one from a few weeks ago?”
Chan’s brows knit faintly. “The one who—”
“Yep,” Felix cut in with a little giggle. “Still trying to get into my pants. Gave me his number this time, too.”
For a second, Chan didn’t move. Then his entire body went rigid, his shoulders tight, and his jaw clenched. The faint humor that had softened his expression evaporated in an instant.
Felix had to bite back a laugh. God, he loved pushing his buttons sometimes.
He slid off the bench and padded across the room, soft-soled sneakers whispering against the linoleum floor, until he was close enough to drape himself over Chan’s back from behind. His arms slipped around Chan’s neck easily, hugging him tight as he leaned up to whisper against his ear.
“Relax,” Felix murmured, lips brushing lightly against the curve of Chan’s ear before pressing a soft kiss there. “I threw it out. Didn’t even look at it.”
Chan stayed stubbornly quiet, muscles still tense under Felix’s hold. Felix just grinned against his skin and shifted closer, planting a trail of light, teasing kisses along the side of his jaw and down to the warm skin of his neck. He giggled when he felt Chan shiver beneath him.
“Don’t tell me Dr. Bang Chan, attending pediatric legend, is jealous,” Felix teased softly, his voice sing-song and warm.
Chan made a low, frustrated sound in his chest, spinning suddenly so Felix stumbled into his chest. His arm slid firmly around Felix’s waist, holding him flush against him.
“I’ll always be jealous,” Chan murmured, his voice pitched low and rough, heat simmering beneath each word. His gaze locked on Felix’s, dark and intent, pulling the air right out of his lungs. “Of anyone who even gets to looks at you.”
Felix’s breath caught, his cheeks going hot as his heartbeat thudded against Chan’s chest. “Channie…” he whispered, his voice small and embarrassed.
Chan’s thumb brushed slowly across the sliver of skin exposed where Felix’s scrub top had ridden up at his hip, grounding and possessive all at once.
“You’re beautiful,” Chan said simply, voice steady now, quiet but certain. “And you’re mine.”
Felix’s ears went hot. He ducked his head, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips as he pressed his palms lightly to Chan’s chest. “Stop saying stuff like that,” he mumbled, cheeks still burning.
Chan didn’t listen. Instead, he leaned down, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to Felix’s flushed cheeks, one, then the other, before brushing a soft one at the corner of his lips just to hear the little laugh Felix tried to swallow.
Finally, Felix tipped his head back, letting himself rest against Chan’s shoulder for a lingering moment before sighing softly.
“I’ve gotta go,” he murmured reluctantly, glancing at the clock above the lockers. “Shift’s starting.”
Chan nodded but didn’t let go immediately, dipping down for one more unhurried kiss before finally loosening his hold.
Felix reached the door and paused, fingers curling lightly on the frame before he peeked his head back inside, a playful glimmer in his eyes.
“Oh, and don’t,” he said sweetly, “tell Changbin to page you when that cop shows up again.”
Chan rolled his eyes, snatching up his thermos. “No promises,” he muttered, voice still faintly grumbly.
Felix’s laugh was light and warm as it followed him out into the hallway, curling faintly in Chan’s chest long after the door closed.
By the time Felix stepped into the pediatric wing, sunlight had spilled through the tall windows lining the hallway, soft gold pooling across the pale linoleum floors. The familiar hum of the hospital surrounded him, distant monitors beeping in a steady rhythm, muffled voices from the nurses’ station, and the soft squeak of sneakers against waxed tile.
Even after years here, something about this wing always tugged at him. Maybe it was the pastel murals painted along the walls, faded clouds and smiling cartoon animals stretching across ceiling tiles to distract little eyes from IV bags and blood draws. Maybe it was the tiny beds, lined up neatly like fragile secrets, each one holding a story bigger than it should.
He signed off on the med cart at the station, stacking the patient list on top before rolling it gently down the hall. Morning meds came first, he had three long-term patients, three familiar rooms.
The first stop was Jiyoon, seven years old and endlessly curious, already cross-legged on her bed when Felix walked in, her nose buried in a picture book. Rainbow bracelets—one for each round of treatment—stacked up her small wrist almost to the IV tape.
“Morning, sunshine,” Felix said softly, his voice warm and bright as he set her little meds cup on the bedside table.
Her head popped up instantly, dark hair tumbling over her cheeks as her eyes lit up. “Lixie!” she chirped, as if she hadn’t seen him just last night.
“That’s me,” he teased, crouching to meet her gaze. “Alright, you know the deal. Pills first, stickers after.”
She wrinkled her nose at the two small tablets but obediently downed them, chasing them with a gulp of apple juice. Felix rewarded her with a fresh glitter sticker sheet, grinning when she peeled one off and slapped it right onto the center of his scrub top.
“You’re collecting them on me now?” he asked, feigning a scandalized gasp.
“You’re my sticker board,” she said simply, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Felix laughed softly, reaching out to ruffle her hair before slipping quietly from the room.
Next was Seojun, barely four, with soft round cheeks and a mop of black hair that perpetually stuck out at odd angles. He sat perched at the edge of his bed in dinosaur pajamas, tiny legs swinging as he clutched his stuffed stegosaurus like a lifeline.
Felix knelt in front of him, offering a small smile. “Morning, Seojunnie.”
The boy peeked up shyly, half-hidden behind the dinosaur’s head. “Don’t wanna bathroom,” he mumbled, lip wobbling as he pulled the stuffed animal tighter against his chest.
Felix tapped his little nose lightly. “How about this, we’ll make a deal. We conquer the scary bathroom together, and when we’re done, I’ll help you braid your dinosaur’s tail. Sound fair?”
For a second, Seojun hesitated, then a tiny giggle bubbled up, shy but real. He nodded and slipped his small hand into Felix’s, letting him guide him carefully toward the bathroom. Felix crouched beside him the whole time, steadying the IV line so it wouldn’t snag and murmuring gentle encouragements until they returned victorious, Seojun’s sleepy smile triumphant.
The last stop was Ahri, five years old, a little thing with pigtails and wide doe eyes. Felix found her curled up beneath the blanket, clutching the corner in one small fist, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
Felix’s heart squeezed painfully. He set the meds cart aside and eased himself onto the edge of her bed, smoothing a hand gently through her messy hair.
“Ahri-bug,” he whispered softly, leaning close so his voice barely disturbed the air between them. “Hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I… I want my mom,” she hiccuped, pressing her wet face into the blanket.
Felix closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He knew Ahri’s mom, and knew the exhaustion carved into the woman’s features every time she came through those doors. If she wasn’t here, she was working, probably pulling a double just to afford her daughter’s care.
“Oh, baby,” Felix murmured, shifting closer as he opened his arms. “I know you miss her.”
Ahri didn’t hesitate, immediately crawling into his chest like she belonged there, her small fingers curling tight into the fabric of his scrub top. Felix held her carefully, one arm tucked beneath her knees as he lifted her into his lap and carried her toward the rocking chair by the window.
He settled into the chair with her, curling around her tiny frame as he began to rock slowly, back and forth, back and forth, the rhythm steady and comforting. Almost without thinking, he started to hum, his voice soft and low, letting the melody slip gently into words:
“You are my sunshine,
my only sunshine…
you make me happy
when skies are gray…”
Ahri’s sobs gradually quieted, her breathing evening out against his chest as her head nestled beneath his chin. Felix kept singing softly, feeling the warmth of her small body melt into his, and as his voice filled the room, another memory stirred unbidden.
-
It had been a night shift like any other, except he’d overheard whispers at the nurses’ station about a premature baby born earlier that day, a tiny girl delivered with her abdominal organs outside her body. Curiosity tugged at him, soft but insistent, until he found himself wandering up to the NICU.
The air there was warmer, quieter, sterile and delicate all at once. Over the gentle beeps of monitors and ventilators, another sound reached him, faint, and unexpected.
Singing?
He followed it on instinct, slipping quietly around a partition, and froze when he saw who it belonged to.
Dr. Bang Chan.
They hadn’t interacted much since that first chaotic elevator encounter weeks ago, but Felix had watched him from afar. He’d seen the sharpness in him, the way he could snap at residents or bark at med students when patient care was at risk. People called him stern, demanding, even cold sometimes. But Felix had already learned the truth: Chan only raised his voice when it mattered. When protecting his patients.
Now, he sat by a softly glowing isolette, hunched slightly forward, lips brushing the words of a lullaby that barely carried past the hum of machines. Inside laid the tiniest baby Felix had ever seen, her organs safely encased in a protective sac, and her impossibly small chest rising and falling with fragile determination.
Felix smiled faintly as he stepped closer, his sneakers silent on the tile until he came to stand across from Chan. He kept his voice soft when he finally spoke.
“What’s her name?”
Chan startled slightly, clearing his throat as his gaze flickered away, the tips of his ears going pink. “She… doesn’t have one yet,” he murmured after a moment. “Her dad wants to wait until she’s out of the woods.”
Felix’s chest ached at that. “She should have a name,” he whispered gently, fingertips brushing the edge of the incubator. When Chan finally met his gaze, something passed between them, brief but unspoken.
“I’ve been calling her Hanna,” Chan admitted quietly, eyes darting away almost shyly.
Felix hummed, smiling softly. “She looks like a Hanna,” he said simply, and when Chan glanced back up, their eyes met and held for a moment longer, warm and steady, until Chan’s lips curved into the faintest, shyest smile Felix had ever seen on him.
-
Felix blinked himself back to the present as Ahri shifted faintly in his arms, finally gone still and quiet. Her tiny breaths puffed against his chest, soft and even now.
He kept rocking her for another moment before carefully rising, adjusting his hold as he carried her back to bed. Felix lowered her gently onto the mattress, pulling the blanket snug around her small shoulders before smoothing back the wisps of hair stuck damply to her forehead.
His chest felt warm and tight at once, heart still caught somewhere between the present and that memory.
And then, without warning, the overhead lights slammed on, flooding the room with harsh, blinding white.
Felix flinched, instinctively shielding Ahri’s sleeping form from the sudden glare, his heart leaping painfully against his ribs.
Felix squinted against the sudden harsh glare of the overhead lights, his heart still racing as his eyes adjusted. He blinked rapidly, glancing over his shoulder toward the doorway, and frowned.
A tall, lanky man in rumpled scrubs stood just inside the room, tablet in one hand, looking far too awake for this hour.
“Sorry,” the man said, though his tone didn’t sound sorry at all. “Here for pre-rounds.”
Felix immediately brought a finger to his lips, nodding toward the sleeping girl nestled in bed. “Shhh,” he whispered, his voice low but firm. “Turn the lights back off, I just got her back down.”
The resident glanced at Ahri, then back at Felix, arching one unimpressed eyebrow. “I’ve got work to do,” he said flatly. “Pre-rounds come first.”
Felix straightened, his shoulders tightening instinctively. “I said, she’s sleeping. It can wait fifteen minutes until she’s awake, she had a rough night.”
“Look,” the man sighed, stepping farther into the room, “you’re a nurse. I get it, you want to coddle them. But I need vitals and updates for the attending. That’s my job.”
Felix bit back the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, jaw flexing as he forced himself to stay calm. He hated this, hated when residents, especially first-years, came in puffed up like they ruled the floor. Most of them would burn out of their arrogance by Christmas, but until then, it was like babysitting a kid with a stethoscope.
Ahri shifted faintly in her sleep, and Felix’s chest clenched. He glanced down at her before glaring back up at the resident, lowering his voice further as if the softness might reach him where reason wouldn’t. “Please. Just… keep it quiet, alright?”
The man ignored him entirely, flipping through her chart at the foot of the bed like he owned it.
“Order standard labs,” he said briskly, scribbling notes into his tablet before shoving the clipboard into Felix’s chest hard enough that it rocked him back a step. “I want them drawn and sent before rounds start.”
Felix’s fingers tightened reflexively around the chart, and he had to physically stop himself from shoving it back at him. He scowled, watching the resident stroll out like he hadn’t just steamrolled the entire room.
At least he hadn’t woken her up.
Felix glanced down at Ahri, softening immediately when he saw her still curled beneath the blanket, her tiny hand fisted loosely around the edge. Her breathing stayed steady and deep. She was always a deep sleeper.
He sighed quietly, shaking his head before carefully gathering what he needed from the supply cart. He worked gently, drawing her blood with practiced ease and slipping the labeled vials into a tray, moving as silently as possible so she wouldn’t stir. When he finished taping the gauze in place, he brushed a thumb soothingly over her hand before slipping out of the room.
Back at the nurses’ station, he set the labs aside for pickup and dropped into one of the rolling chairs, pulling up each patient’s file on the terminal. He typed in updates, double-checking meds and charts, letting the rhythm of routine steady his heartbeat after the encounter.
The hospital was waking up around him now, murmured voices down the hallway, the distant clang of carts, the occasional monitor alarm going off somewhere in the background. Morning chaos brewing, same as always.
Felix blew out a quiet breath, clicking open Ahri’s chart. His chest still ached faintly from the way she’d clung to him earlier, the echo of her small sobs pressed into his scrub top still fresh in his ears.
She’d be okay. He’d make sure of it.
-
By the time the wall clock edged toward noon, Felix felt like his entire body was made of lead. He sat slumped at the nurses’ station, elbows on the desk, head resting on his folded arms as the steady murmur of the pediatric wing buzzed around him. His stomach had been growling for the past half hour, but he hadn’t had the energy to get up and grab food yet.
This was exactly why he didn’t pull doubles.
He let his eyes slip shut, thinking maybe he could squeeze in a few minutes of rest before the next round of labs came back. But then fingers threaded gently through his hair, slow and absentminded, and he startled with a soft sound, lifting his head to find Chan standing over him.
The older man looked unfairly good despite the long morning, his white coat perfectly straight, sleeves rolled to his forearms, and stethoscope looped casually around his neck. There was a faint sheen of fatigue around his eyes, but the fond smile pulling at his lips made his dimples peek out.
“You okay, baby?” Chan asked softly, tilting his head slightly as his thumb brushed once along Felix’s hairline.
Felix blinked up at him, yawning wide as he stretched his arms above his head. “Mhm,” he mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion. “Just dragging a little. It’s almost lunchtime, though.”
Chan hummed, fingers briefly squeezing the back of Felix’s neck before pulling away. “Come with me,” he said. “I was about to head down anyway.”
Felix nodded and rose from the chair, falling into step beside him as they made their way toward the elevators.
“You know,” Felix started as they walked, tugging lightly at the hem of his scrub top, “I was wondering what you thought about the new resident.”
Chan glanced sideways at him and rolled his eyes with a soft snort. “I don’t like him.”
Felix bit back a smile. “That obvious, huh?”
“He’s only here because pediatrics is a notoriously difficult specialty,” Chan muttered, tapping the elevator button with more force than necessary. “First time in peds since med school. He wants the prestige, not the patients.”
Felix hummed lowly in agreement, his lips quirking faintly. “Yeah… I got that vibe, too.”
The elevator dinged, and a few minutes later, they were stepping into the cafeteria. The warm, savory smells of simmering soups and grilled sandwiches hit them immediately, and Felix’s stomach growled audibly this time.
Chan glanced at him with a small grin. “Go find us a table. I’ll get food.”
Felix nodded, weaving his way between crowded tables before finding one tucked near the window. He sank into the chair with a soft sigh, letting his chin rest in his palm as his gaze drifted aimlessly across the cafeteria.
The low hum of chatter, the clatter of trays, and the distant whir of the soft-serve machine pulled him into a memory without warning.
-
He’d been sitting at nearly the exact same spot, eating his lunch alone, a paperback open beside his tray. The cafeteria had been busy that day, but Felix was used to tuning it out.
What he wasn’t used to was the giggling.
Two ER nurses had walked past, not even bothering to lower their voices, exchanging conspiratorial looks before dissolving into laughter. He had no idea what rumor had been making the rounds that week—maybe something about who he was dating, maybe about how “flirty” he supposedly was with residents—but he didn’t care enough to ask. Still, the constant whispers, the pointed looks, the stupid little giggles every time he walked into a room, it was getting old fast.
He’d rolled his eyes and turned a page in his book, pretending not to hear them. Pretending it didn’t bother him. But deep down, it was hard not to feel like he stuck out sometimes, like he was on display.
He’d been halfway through another paragraph when a tray clattered softly onto the table across from him. Startled, he glanced up, and froze.
Dr. Bang Chan stood there, expression unreadable, eyes warm but steady as he gestured to the empty chair. “This seat taken?”
Felix blinked, his brain short-circuiting for an embarrassing second before he stammered, “N-no, go ahead,” shoving his book aside to clear space.
It was only when Chan sat down, pulling his tray closer, that Felix realized the cafeteria had gone strangely quiet. Heads were turning. Eyes were staring. And why wouldn’t they? Back then, Chan still terrified half the hospital. His reputation preceded him, brilliant but strict, and protective to the point of intensity, never one for small talk.
Felix must’ve glanced around because Chan sighed softly, setting his fork down for a moment. “Ignore them,” he said, his voice gentler than Felix expected. “Just talk to me.”
Felix had felt his cheeks heat immediately, ducking his head before glancing up through his lashes with a shy smile. “Is this our first date, then?” he’d teased, half-expecting Chan to roll his eyes and walk away.
But without missing a beat, Chan had replied, “If you want it to be.”
-
Felix blinked back into the present, warmth blooming faintly in his chest as he caught himself smiling without realizing it.
Chan returned a moment later, setting down two trays and sliding into the seat across from him. “They’ve got your favorite soup today,” he said softly, pushing one bowl toward him.
Felix’s lips curved into a smile, picking up his spoon as he leaned into the comforting steam. “You’re the best,” he murmured, taking his first sip.
The warmth of the broth spread through his chest, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like the rest of the day might be manageable after all.
Felix had just dipped his spoon back into the warm broth when someone slid noisily into the seat beside him, nearly knocking into his tray.
“Ugh, you will not believe the morning I’ve had,” Hyunjin groaned dramatically, slumping forward until his forehead thunked against the table.
A second later, Changbin sat down across from him, completely ignoring the theatrics as he casually plucked a few fries off Hyunjin’s tray while the plastics fellow was distracted.
Felix bit back a laugh, trying to hide his grin behind his spoon. “What happened now?” he asked, already bracing himself.
Hyunjin let out a long, exaggerated whine before turning his entire body to drape himself across Chan’s lap like a fainting actor in a tragedy. “The OR nurses ruined my setup again,” he lamented loudly. “Do you know how many times I’ve told them how I like it? How many?”
Chan smirked faintly, shoving at Hyunjin’s shoulder until he slid back into his seat. “You’re embarrassing yourself,” he said dryly.
“They never listen to me,” Hyunjin went on, undeterred, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “Every single time, my instruments are out of order, and the sutures aren’t labeled correctly, and the OR temperature—”
Felix made eye contact with Chan across the table, and they both couldn’t help it, they broke into identical, knowing smiles. Chan started silently mouthing Hyunjin’s rant along with him, timing every word perfectly.
“—and the OR temperature is never set to twenty-two degrees like I asked.”
Felix giggled into his hand, shoulders shaking.
“Stop making fun of me!” Hyunjin said, reaching over to swat at Felix’s arm with zero heat behind it. “Some of us are fighting for our lives out here.”
Changbin finally looked up from his stolen fries, smirking faintly. “Speaking of trouble…” he started casually, glancing between Chan and Felix, “…you know that cop who’s apparently in love with you?”
Felix groaned, dropping his spoon into his soup with a soft clatter. “Really, Binnie?”
Hyunjin immediately perked up like a fox catching the scent of gossip. “Wait. Back up. What cop? What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Oh, you’re gonna love this,” Changbin said, leaning back in his chair like he was about to deliver the punchline to a good joke. “We had this drunk patient last night, completely plastered and getting handsy with our sweet Lixie here. Before anyone could even react, Officer Love-Sick shows up, all gallant and broody, gets the guy off him…”
Felix was mid-eye-roll when he felt Chan’s gaze on him, sharp and focused.
“You didn’t tell me that,” Chan said quietly, brows knitting slightly.
Felix shrugged innocently, resting his chin in his palm. “Because it’s not a big deal. The guy’s like seventy and drunk every time he comes in. It’s not like he’s a threat to you.”
But he didn’t miss it, that subtle tick of Chan’s jaw, the slight flare of his nostrils as he sipped his water like it might stop him from saying something snappy.
Changbin, of course, noticed immediately and burst out laughing. “You’re jealous,” he teased, pointing his fork at Chan. “God, you’re actually jealous of Officer Love-Sick.”
Chan shot him a flat look, but the faint pink dusting the tops of his ears gave him away.
Hyunjin, still perched halfway over the table, turned wide, gleeful eyes on Felix. “Okay, but start from the top. What actually happened?”
Felix sighed, stirring his soup lazily. “His name’s Officer Jae-won,” he said finally, giving in to the inevitable questioning. “He pulled the guy away, made sure I was okay, and then, yes, he gave me his number.”
Hyunjin gasped like he’d just been handed a priceless secret. “And you threw it away?”
“Of course I did,” Felix said, finally looking up to meet Chan’s gaze across the table. His voice softened slightly, just for him. “I’m perfectly happy where I am.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Felix caught it, the almost imperceptible way Chan puffed his chest out just a little, like a quiet, unspoken claim.
Hyunjin groaned, throwing his head back. “Ugh, boring. You should’ve kept it so we could mess with him. Imagine the chaos.”
Felix snorted, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
Before Hyunjin could argue further, Changbin’s pager went off, shrill and insistent. He glanced down at it, brows furrowing immediately.
“ER,” he said, already grabbing his tray to push it aside. “Peds case.”
Felix was on his feet before he even realized it, Chan right behind him.
“Let’s go,” Changbin called over his shoulder as they jogged toward the doors. “Hyunjin, clean up for us!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hyunjin waved them off lazily, already reaching for another one of Felix’s untouched fries.
The three of them disappeared into the hallway, pace quickening with every step toward the elevators, the easy laughter of lunch dissolving into the sharp focus of emergency mode.
The ER was buzzing the moment they stepped through the double doors, the steady rise and fall of urgent voices layered over the beeping of monitors and the low hum of wheels on tile. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and sweat, sharp beneath the constant undertone of stale coffee from the nurses’ station. Felix’s heart rate kicked up as Changbin led them deeper into the chaos, weaving around curtained bays until they stopped at one of the smaller trauma rooms.
Inside sat a boy—no older than seventeen—hunched forward on the edge of the bed. His knees were drawn up, elbows digging into them as both hands clutched desperately at his head like he was holding it together by force alone. Dark hair stuck damply to his temples, and every few seconds his shoulders hitched as he heaved into a lined basin balanced between his knees.
Felix’s chest tightened instantly. He’d seen enough headaches in pediatrics to know when one was “bad” and when one was dangerous.
“What do we have?” Chan asked briskly as he slipped inside, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.
Before anyone could answer, a woman burst into the doorway, breathless and flushed, her purse sliding down one arm as she grabbed at the frame for balance. Her voice shook as she stumbled toward the bed.
“I—I don’t know what’s happening,” she stammered, her words tumbling over each other. “He’s been… different. Depressed, withdrawn, snapping at everyone—that’s not like him. And today…” She swallowed hard, wringing her hands so tightly the knuckles went white. “Today he’s losing coordination. He’s confused. Delusional. I—he was fine last month.”
Chan stepped closer, his voice soft but steady, grounding her instantly. “Alright. You did the right thing bringing him in. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”
Felix grabbed an IV kit, moving to the boy’s side. He crouched low so he wouldn’t loom, letting his voice go quiet and gentle, the way he always did with anxious kids. “Hey, buddy,” he murmured, resting a hand lightly on the edge of the bed so the boy could see him first. “I’m Felix. I’m just gonna give you some fluids to help you feel better, okay?”
He reached carefully for the boy’s arm and froze when the teenager flinched violently away, nearly knocking the basin out of his lap. His head shot up, glassy eyes darting around the room like there were things lurking in every corner.
“They’re watching,” he whispered harshly, his breath coming fast and shallow. “Don’t touch me— don’t let them put anything inside me. I can hear them talking. Don’t—don’t let them—”
Felix pulled his hands back instantly, palms up, making his voice even softer. “Hey, hey… I’m not gonna hurt you, promise. You’re safe here.”
The boy rocked faintly on the bed, mumbling disjointed fragments under his breath, paranoia spilling out in broken phrases about “them” and “being poisoned” and “the walls listening.” His chest ached as he waited, giving the boy space to find his breath again.
“Tell you what,” Felix tried softly after a moment, leaning just close enough for the boy to hear. “I won’t touch you unless you tell me it’s okay. Cross my heart.”
The boy’s gaze flickered to him, wide and trembling. After a long beat, he gave the smallest nod.
“Thank you,” Felix whispered, offering a faint smile as he gently took the boy’s arm and slid the IV in with practiced ease. The saline drip started, cool and steady. He glanced back at Chan. “Want me to push something for the nausea?”
“Compazine,” Chan said without missing a beat, scanning the chart. “Ten milligrams IV.”
Felix drew it up smoothly, working quickly but carefully, all the while murmuring small reassurances as he flushed the line. He kept his voice low and warm, letting the sound ground the boy in the chaos.
Chan, meanwhile, pulled the mother gently aside, leading her a few steps from the bed. “Any recent travel?” he asked softly. “Family history of neurological conditions? Tumors, metabolic disorders?”
The woman shook her head rapidly. “No, nothing like that.” She hesitated, biting her lip before adding, “We… we went to my brother’s farm last week. He made burgers. Homemade. They were awful,” she said, trying to laugh, though her voice cracked halfway through. “I don’t think that matters, though—”
Chan paused mid-note, his head tilting slightly. “Homemade how?”
“My brother raises his own cows,” she explained. “Processes the meat himself. Says it’s healthier.”
Felix glanced up from the IV setup, catching the flicker in Chan’s expression, that razor focus Felix had learned to recognize.
“And the cows?” Chan asked carefully, his tone soft but deliberate.
The woman frowned, confusion creasing her face. “Honestly? I was worried about them. They looked… sick. The farm was dirty, rundown. My son didn’t even want to eat, but…” She trailed off, her voice breaking.
Chan exhaled slowly, his hand braced on the counter as his mind worked ahead. “Alright,” he murmured, already shifting into action. “Let’s get a full infectious workup: CBC, CMP, ESR, CRP, blood cultures, and tox. Prep an LP tray upstairs.”
The mother froze. “A spinal tap?”
Chan crouched slightly, meeting her panicked gaze head-on. His voice softened, even as his words remained precise. “I know it sounds scary, but it’ll help us figure out what’s wrong. We’ll numb him first, so he won’t feel anything. And I’ll be right there the whole time.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, but after a beat, she nodded.
Felix offered her a reassuring smile as he gathered the labeled blood samples, brushing her hand briefly as he passed. “We’ll take good care of him,” he murmured gently.
Out in the hallway, they headed toward the elevators, Felix updating the chart as they walked. “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly, though there was a tension in his chest he couldn’t name.
Chan’s jaw flexed as his hands slipped into his coat pockets. “Variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob,” he said finally.
Felix blinked, startled. “Mad cow disease? Chan, that’s… that’s rare.”
“I know,” Chan said, his voice low and steady. “But the story fits, new-onset psych symptoms, loss of coordination, rapid progression. I hope I’m wrong, but I’d rather rule it out now than miss it.”
Felix nodded slowly, processing. His lips parted to respond when someone called his name from down the hall.
“Felix!”
He turned instinctively, and froze when he saw who it was.
Officer Jae-won strode toward them, his uniform pressed perfectly, confidence practically radiating off him. Felix felt his shoulders drop slightly, wishing he could melt into the nearest wall.
“Hey,” Jae-won greeted, flashing a quick smile. “How’s your shift been?” His gaze flicked briefly down Felix’s figure before settling back on his face. “You look really good today.”
Felix forced a polite, neutral smile, fiddling with the chart in his hands. “It’s been fine, thanks—”
Before he could finish, an arm slid firmly around his waist, tugging him back against a solid, familiar chest. Felix didn’t have to look up; he knew Chan’s touch instantly, warm, grounding, and possessive.
Chan’s voice came low and even, but there was steel beneath the smoothness. “Thanks for checking in, officer,” he said coolly, his thumb brushing deliberately along the curve of Felix’s hip. “But he’s with me.”
Jae-won’s smile faltered, a flash of irritation breaking through before he masked it with a stiff nod. “Right,” he said tightly.
Chan didn’t spare him another glance. Instead, he tightened his hold on Felix and guided him away, his palm resting securely on his waist as they stepped into the elevator lobby.
Felix tilted his head just enough to catch the faint curve of Chan’s smirk, fighting to hide his own small laugh as the doors closed behind them, shutting Jae-won out completely.
-
Felix’s hands moved automatically as he prepped the LP tray, but his mind felt heavy. He lined each piece carefully along the sterile drape, every motion careful and deliberate, antiseptic swabs, collection tubes, gauze pads, and finally the sleek, silver spinal needle still sealed in its sterile pack.
The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the air vent overhead and the rhythmic hiss of the oxygen line against the far wall. The boy was curled on his side on the bed, knees tucked loosely to his chest, his breathing slow and shallow. They’d placed an epidural earlier to numb him from the waist down. It wasn’t supposed to make him drowsy, but after the morning he’d had—the vomiting, the headache, the panic spiraling out of control—exhaustion must have pulled him under.
Felix’s chest tightened faintly as his gaze lingered on him. He looked so young like this, lashes resting against flushed cheeks, his dark hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Too young to be here. Too young for any of this.
The soft creak of the door pulled him back. Chan stepped inside, mask hanging loose around his neck, surgical cap in place. He looked calm, collected as always, but Felix caught the faint lines of strain around his eyes.
“You get the mother’s consent?” Felix asked, straightening up.
Chan nodded, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. “Yeah. Offered to let her watch. She’ll be by the observation window.”
Felix hummed softly, finishing the tray setup before handing Chan the chart. “Labs are back too.”
Chan flipped through them quickly, scanning each value with practiced focus. Felix watched his brow furrow faintly, the subtle signs of Chan already spinning through a dozen possibilities in his head.
“What do you think?” Chan asked finally, holding the chart open toward him.
Felix shook his head slowly, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I… don’t know. Nothing obvious. Nothing that explains all of this.”
Chan nodded once, lips pressing into a thin line. He closed the chart and set it aside. “Then this,” he said quietly, tapping the LP tray, “should give us the answers we need.”
Felix nodded, though unease twisted faintly in his chest. He slipped on his gloves, snapping them tight at the wrist, and helped Chan set up the sterile field. Together, they ran through their mental checklist, landmarks, positioning, and sample tubes. Felix handed Chan the sealed spinal needle, watching the older doctor peel the packaging back with deliberate precision.
Felix moved to the opposite side of the bed, crouching slightly. “Should I wake him up first?” he asked softly, glancing at the boy’s still face.
“No,” Chan murmured, adjusting his mask and positioning himself behind the boy’s curled frame. “He shouldn’t feel anything with the epidural. Just hold him steady, okay? If he stirs, keep him curled and still.”
Felix nodded, shifting carefully into position. He rested one hand gently on the boy’s shoulder, the other against his hip, leaning in just enough to stabilize him without feeling invasive. “It’s okay, buddy,” he whispered softly, mostly for himself. “Just a quick test, and then we’ll let you rest.”
Chan located the landmarks, lined up the needle, and began to guide it forward with slow, practiced care.
And then—
The boy jerked violently awake, his body twisting hard against Felix’s hold as a raw, guttural cry tore out of his throat.
“Stop!” he screamed, thrashing wildly. “Don’t stab me, stop, STOP, it hurts!”
Felix’s heart lurched painfully as he tightened his grip, trying to keep the boy steady without hurting him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, voice low and urgent. “You’re safe, I promise, you’re safe. We’re helping you, buddy, I swear—”
But the boy didn’t hear him. He was sobbing now, words tumbling out in fractured, panicked bursts, spiraling incoherently.
“They’re watching me, they’re listening—don’t let them put anything inside me, please don’t let them—”
“Felix, hold him steady,” Chan said sharply, his tone clipped but calm as his focus stayed locked on his hands.
“I’m trying,” Felix gritted out, bracing his body against the boy’s trembling frame. “He’s stronger than he looks.”
The boy bucked suddenly, nearly knocking the needle, and Felix cursed under his breath as he fought to keep him curled forward. “I’ve got you,” he whispered frantically, keeping his voice soft despite the panic rising in his throat. “You’re okay, I promise—”
The door slammed open behind them, and the boy’s mother rushed in, tears streaking her face, one hand clutching at her chest.
“Stop!” she sobbed, stumbling toward the bed. “Please, stop! I changed my mind—you’re hurting him!”
Felix felt his chest clench painfully, but Chan’s voice cut through, calm and steady despite the chaos.
“I’m already in,” he said firmly without looking up. “You gave consent. It’s almost over.”
The boy wailed, thrashing harder, and Felix wanted to crumble beneath the sound, his heart aching with every broken cry. He murmured desperately against the boy’s hair, soft and constant, trying to ground him through the panic. “I know, I know, buddy—just a few more seconds, you’re doing so well, I promise—”
Chan’s voice came quiet but certain after what felt like forever. “Done.”
Felix’s arms loosened immediately, his own breathing ragged as Chan carefully withdrew the needle and capped the tubes of spinal fluid.
Felix stepped back, chest heaving, tugging his gloves off with shaky hands before tossing them into the sharps bin. Sweat dampened the curls at his temples, and his muscles ached from holding the boy steady.
But the boy wasn’t calming and his breaths came in shallow, rapid bursts, his gaze darting wildly as he curled into himself, still mumbling sharp, panicked fragments about “poison” and “watching.”
“Give him five milligrams of Ativan,” Chan said quietly, already stripping off his gown and gloves.
Felix nodded quickly, pulling up the med and pushing it gently into the IV line. Within moments, the boy’s trembling slowed, his breathing evening out until he finally slumped against the bed, exhausted.
Chan glanced at Felix, then at the mother—pale and stricken, standing frozen by the door with her hand clamped over her mouth—before stepping out of the room without a word. The door clicked softly shut behind him.
Felix stayed, his chest tight as he gathered the scattered supplies into the sharps bin and wiped down the tray. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and sweat, heavy with the quiet sound of the mother’s muffled sobs.
When he finally turned to her, he paused, unsettled by the hollow look in her tear-reddened eyes. “…Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked softly.
Her voice cracked when she answered. “I told you to stop,” she whispered, shaking her head like she couldn’t quite believe it herself. “I told you to stop.”
Felix hesitated, setting the tray aside carefully. “You… signed the consent forms,” he said gently, almost apologetically. “And we were already in the middle of the procedure. Stopping suddenly could’ve hurt him more.”
But she just shook her head again, shoulders trembling as she sank into the chair beside the bed. Her shaking fingers brushed her son’s damp hair back from his forehead, her lips pressing to his temple in silence.
Felix stood there for another moment, throat tight, wanting to say something but finding nothing that would soothe either of them.
“…Someone will be in later to check on him,” he murmured finally, voice barely above a whisper.
He gathered the last of the supplies, slipped quietly out of the room, and let the door click softly shut behind him.
-
The locker room was quiet in that strange, liminal way hospitals get after a long shift, the faint hum of the ventilation, the distant ringing of some monitor several halls away, the occasional metallic clang of a locker door closing somewhere down the row.
Felix sat heavily on the narrow bench, hoodie bunched in his hands, staring blankly at the tile beneath his sneakers. The air smelled faintly of bleach and cheap detergent, the kind of sterile, empty-clean scent that clung to hospital clothes no matter how many times you washed them.
He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing softly. He felt wrung out.
The guilt sat like a weight on his chest, heavier than his exhaustion but tangled up with it so tightly that he couldn’t separate the two. He kept replaying the boy’s cries, the way his voice had cracked, the wild panic in his glassy eyes. He could still hear the mother’s sharp, broken “Stop,” still feel the tremor in her voice when she’d whispered that she changed her mind.
And Felix knew—knew—they’d done the right thing. He knew the procedure had been necessary, that stopping suddenly could have been worse, that she’d signed the consent. He knew they’d followed every protocol.
But knowing didn’t make the echoes go away.
His fingers fumbled clumsily with the zipper of his hoodie as he finally tugged it on over his T-shirt, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. His back ached fiercely from hours of standing and bending over beds, so he braced his hands against his lower spine and leaned backward until his vertebrae popped one by one, the tension cracking loose in tiny increments.
“God,” he muttered under his breath, tilting his head back with a low groan.
He bent forward next, trying to stretch out the tight pull of his hamstrings, fingertips brushing the tops of his shoes.
That’s when a sharp smack landed square on his ass.
Felix startled violently, nearly toppling over, spinning on his heel so fast his balance wobbled. He already had his fist half-raised, ready to swing if he had to—
Only to find Chan leaning casually against the locker beside his, coat folded neatly over one arm, a slow, satisfied smirk curling the corner of his mouth.
“Relax, baby,” Chan murmured, his voice low and warm. “It’s just me.”
Felix pressed a hand over his chest, willing his racing heart to calm, and scowled faintly. “Jesus, Channie,” he muttered breathlessly. “I thought you were that damn cop. I almost broke your nose.”
At that, Chan’s expression shifted instantly, the smirk fading into something sharper, and darker. The weight of his gaze was heavy, unblinking.
“If he ever smacks your ass,” Chan said, his voice low and threaded with quiet steel, “I won’t think twice about going back to jail.”
Felix blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden seriousness. “…You’ve never been to jail.”
Chan only shrugged, leaning one shoulder lazily against the lockers. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Felix rolled his eyes and shoved at his shoulder lightly, though the faint heat in his cheeks betrayed him. “Yeah, okay. Real mysterious, Dr. Bang.”
Chan’s grin returned, softer this time, and he reached past Felix to pluck his coat from the hook. “Come over tonight,” he murmured, holding it out for him. “I’ll make you dinner.”
Felix hesitated as he slid his arms into the sleeves, gnawing faintly at his lower lip. “I should probably go home,” he said quietly. “I need to study.”
Chan tugged the zipper up for him before smoothing the collar into place, his touch careful, grounding. “Baby,” he said, dipping his head so his voice brushed warm against Felix’s ear, “you’re barely awake on your feet right now. You can’t study like this.”
Felix groaned softly, leaning forward until his forehead pressed lightly against Chan’s shoulder. “You’re horrible, you know that? Making me take care of myself.”
“I know,” Chan teased gently, cupping the back of Felix’s neck for just a second. “I’m the worst.”
Outside, the sun was setting low on the horizon, painting the hospital parking lot in streaks of fading orange and pale pink. Chan walked Felix to his car, unlocking the passenger side and opening the door for him with a little flourish.
“Such a gentleman,” Felix muttered sleepily, curling into the seat.
Chan leaned in to press a soft kiss against his temple before shutting the door.
By the time they got to Chan’s apartment, the exhaustion in Felix’s body had settled deep into his bones, slowing everything down until even his thoughts felt fuzzy. Berry bounded up to meet them as soon as the door opened, tail wagging so hard her whole body wiggled.
“Hi, baby,” Felix murmured, crouching to scratch behind her ears. He smiled faintly when Berry pressed her snout against his chest, whining softly like she could smell the hospital on him.
“Go hop in the shower,” Chan said gently, tugging Felix’s hoodie over his head before he even realized it. “I’ll take Berry out.”
Felix nodded wordlessly, padding toward the bathroom, his bare feet silent against the hardwood.
The hot spray of the shower hit his skin, steam curling up around him as the water washed away the cling of antiseptic and sweat. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool tile. The echoes of the day—the boy’s panicked cries, the mother’s shaking voice, the pressure of holding him down—blurred faintly under the roar of the water until there was nothing but heat and sound.
The door clicked open softly.
Felix blinked, turning his head just enough to see Chan step inside, steam curling around him.
“Relax,” Chan murmured as he joined him under the spray, his voice quiet but sure. “Let me take care of you.”
Felix hummed softly, leaning back into Chan’s solid chest. He closed his eyes as Chan’s fingers threaded gently through his damp hair, massaging shampoo into his scalp with slow, deliberate care. Felix melted under the touch, humming faintly as the tension bled out of his shoulders.
Chan rinsed his hair carefully, then smoothed conditioner through the strands, his fingertips working small, soothing circles against Felix’s temples. He washed Felix’s body next, his hands patient and unhurried, following every familiar line of him like he had memorized them long ago. When his fingers brushed teasingly low, Felix startled faintly, swatting halfheartedly at his hip.
“Behave,” Felix mumbled without opening his eyes.
Chan’s soft chuckle rumbled low against his back. “No promises.”
When they finished, Chan wrapped Felix in a plush towel, rubbing slow, lazy circles over his shoulders to dry him off. He guided him gently to sit on the bathroom counter, legs dangling, and started working through his skincare routine for him.
Felix watched sleepily as Chan dabbed toner over his cheeks, massaged moisturizer into his skin with careful thumbs, and patted serum into place like he was handling something delicate and precious.
By the time Chan carried him to bed, Felix was half-asleep, his limbs heavy and pliant. He curled beneath the duvet, sighing softly when Chan slid in behind him, his chest warm and solid against Felix’s back.
Chan pressed slow, lingering kisses along the slope of his neck, one hand splayed gently over Felix’s ribs.
Felix mumbled into his pillow, his voice low and sleepy. “If you’re hoping to get lucky tonight, you can use your hand.”
Chan’s quiet laugh vibrated against his skin, and his arms tightened around Felix’s waist.
“I wasn’t,” Chan whispered against his jaw. “Just wanted to remind you how much I love you.”
Felix’s lips curved faintly, eyes already drifting shut. “Mm. Love you too.”
And then he was gone, sinking into the warmth of Chan’s arms, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling Felix into the kind of deep, dreamless sleep only sheer exhaustion can bring.