ISS 2011: FOR TRINKETRIES
To: trinketries
From: Your Secret Santa.
Title: Diagnosing Acute Pneumoencephalopathy
Pairing/Focus: Sunggyu/Woohyun (with a ninja appearance from Dongwoo/Hoya)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: very, very vague reference to possible sexual abuse).
Word count: 3,773
Summary: Sunggyu really dislikes celebrity patients. Woohyun really doesn't care.
Most of the time, Kim Sunggyu really likes his job. He finds that he enjoys waking up at seven fifteen and rolling into a pair of clean scrubs and sneakers, padding out of his messy studio, wriggling the doorknob to make sure it locks properly, and rushing to catch the seven twenty-eight bus across town. It’s only mornings like this-morning full of rain seeping through his shoes and missing the bus and breakfast and needed to grab an overpriced buttered croissant from the cart in front of the subway, padding off of the train just in time to slip in through the back door with his employee ID-that Sunggyu regrets having gone through with training after all.
You wanted this, he reminds himself. You wanted to be a nurse. You came all the way to Seoul to study.
The hospital is never quiet. There’s always an emergency. Sunggyu shrugs out of his coat and flings his things into his locker and grabs a cup of free coffee from the lounge before dashing over to his station and grabbing a few cases off the rack. He flips through them idly, double-checking to make sure nothing’s urgent, and then groans when he sees a familiar name.
“This is mean, doctor. Really mean.”
“You were late,” Dongwoo sing-songs. “It’s your own fault.”
[--]
His first patient of the day is a celebrity. Sunggyu ordinarily avoids dealing with anyone famous, but everyone else has a full caseload already, and he’s not about to bother the head of scheduling, Kim Jongwan, for something as silly as his fairly irrational distaste for idol singers. He might steal Dongwoo’s lunch later, but that’s just because the doctor knows how irritable Sunggyu can be in the morning and shouldn’t have teased him.
Revenge is always better when it’s served around midday, after all.
He knocks before entering and introducing himself, tasting the syllables carefully. “Nam Woohyun?”
Everyone’s heard the name-the new soloist with more female fans than all of Super Junior combined. He’s sitting in bed, eyes low, blankets pulled up tight around his chin, one hand sticking out of the side and idly playing with a phone. Overall, fairly unimpressive. “That’s my name,” he says dully, “don’t wear it out.”
“Right,” Sunggyu says perfunctorily. Neither of them really want to be there, better to get down to business. “Well. How are you feeling today? It says here that you fainted on set?”
Woohyun plucks at the IV drip in his arm. “I’m feeling fairly conscious right now.”
Sunggyu resists the urge to slap his fingers away. “Okay. Not exactly what I meant, but that’s an improvement. Is there anything I can do for you while you wait for a doctor to see you?”
Woohyun sighs. “I mean I’d be more comfortable if you fluffed my pillows. Or is that VIP treatment only? Where do I register for VIP treatment around here anyway?”
“This is a hospital, Nam Woohyun, not a spa.”
“And I’m famous. I deserve celebrity treatment. My fans would be oh so upset if they found out that I was being denied the care that I need.” He looks tired, Sunggyu thinks, but that’s no reason to also be an asshole.
“You don’t need to have your pillows fluffed.”
“I have chronic back pain! I need to be comfortable. If I’m not comfortable I might scowl too much and wrinkle prematurely. And that would be a disaster.”
“We also offer Botox therapy here,” Sunggyu spits between gritted teeth. “Seventh floor. If you’re interested.”
“I’m too pretty right now for surgery. And I would like to keep myself all natural. Hence the pillow fluffing.”
“Oh dear. I really think I’m going to hate you.”
Woohyun finally looks up, pale and thin and smirking. “Hate is such a strong word.”
[--]
Woohyun buzzes for him thirty-nine times between eight and noon. Sunggyu begs five other nurses to take Woohyun off his hands, but they just laugh at him-Sungyeol even rolls his eyes and mimics strangling himself when Sunggyu offers to bribe him.
“Okay,” Sunggyu says the eighth time, “you really just need to stop and leave me alone. I have other patients to see! Chores to delegate! People to take care of! I am not your personal assistant.”
“I am ill. I need to be looked after. I need attention.”
“That just sounds creepy.” But Sunggyu pulls over a chair and checks Woohyun’s pulse, reading the figures off of the monitors. He’s stable. Of course he’s stable. There is nothing wrong with him. “Stop moving around so much and sleep. Or play Tetris. Just leave me alone.”
“I don’t like Tetris.”
“Then pick something that makes you happy.” Sunggyu copies down the blinking figures, checks to make sure they’re all aligned and within an acceptable range, and moves to excuse himself.
“Wait,” Woohyun says. “Wait.” And then, slowly, “I know this is sudden, but you’ve really won me over with your charm.”
Sunggyu tries not to crumple up the papers in his hand. It’s hard, but he just barely manages. “Fabulous. Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m just going to go back to my work now then, okay?”
“No really,” and Woohyun looks up, “your professionalism is great, I love it. Plus it’s nice that you pretended not to care about who I was. It was humbling. I’ll give you that signature you’ve been wanting-I know you’ve been holding yourself back, trying not to ask. No need to be shy, though.”
“Wow,” Sunggyu says, genuinely shocked. “You really are sick.”
"I'm being honest! You were just fascinating, really. Fumbling around the hospital, ignoring the world class superstar lounging in your ward. But the game's up. I’ve caught on. You’re helplessly in love with me.”
The hospital gown Woohyun is wearing slips over his right shoulder and exposes the line of his collarbone. Sunggyu thinks that the world is incredibly unfair. “Bugger off,” he says instead a bit too sharply, whirling on his heels and smashing the door behind him.
[--]
Apparently, Sunggyu finds out over lunch, Woohyun is just as famous for his scandals as his singing.
“I don’t want to hear,” he says the fifty-seventh time. “No fluffing. Zero. Can I go?”
Woohyun scowls. “I’ve figured you out, Kim Sunggyu. I even found out your name. You are no longer just another nameless nurse.”
“No, you’ve just figured out how to read the characters stitched onto my shirt. And I actually don’t care that you’re famous, surprisingly. At all. Not even a little bit.”
“It’ll make dating me very difficult, though. All those eyes watching our every move, following us around, et cetera.”
“Haven’t you dated, like, fifteen girls? And no one actually says ‘et cetera’.”
Woohyun laughs dismissively. Sunggyu tries not to notice how hoarse he is, how stiffly he moves. It’s his own fucking fault, he reminds himself.
“You have to date girls to avoid the rumors about sleeping with guys from seeping into the press. It’s the only way they agree to drop a story.”
“Wait.” Sunggyu’s intrigued despite himself. “You leak those?”
“Yeah. Trade secret. Promise not to tell?” Woohyun falls back into his pillow and fiddles with the IV. Sunggyu slaps his hand away thoughtlessly.
“Whatever. Stop buzzing for me.”
“I’m bored.”
“Troll the internet or something. I don’t know. What do celebrities do in their free time?”
Woohyun blinks. “We don’t have any.”
[--]
By the end of the day, Sunggyu finds out that Woohyun has been discharged and rushed to his next schedule. Sunggyu feels a bit irritated by that, but only professionally, only because of how clearly ill Woohyun was and how pale and thin he looked. But it isn’t any of Sunggyu’s business-he wasn’t even Sunggyu’s patient.
This changes the next Monday morning when he wanders in ten minutes early and Dongwoo throws him a chart. “He’s back.”
There’s something to tone of Dongwoo’s voice that sets Sunggyu’s skin on edge. Reluctantly, he peeks at the name. “I’m early! I’m early. This isn’t fair.”
“You’ve seen him already. This way I don’t have to bother with him.” Dongwoo rolls up his sleeves and adjusts his pager. “I’m off to go do important doctorly things. Fill me in on his case later?”
“Do you mean inappropriate doctorly things like the time I walked in on you and H-”
“Okay,” Dongwoo says. “One more word and I start subtracting points.”
“I think you’re forgetting that I’m actually higher up in the hospital food chain than you are,” Sunggyu retorts tetchily. “I’ve worked here for longer. And what points. What are points?”
“Life points. When you get to zero I’ll start reassigning all the celebrities to your ward.”
Sunggyu throws a glove at Dongwoo’s head. Everyone knows that Sunggyu hates celebrities, hates singers most of all, but idol singers take the cake. They overwork their vocals, they don’t ever get a good night’s sleep, and they’ve slept with half of the businessmen in Seoul by the time they debut.
“But how many points did I start with?”
It’s disgusting; it almost happened to him.
[--]
“I’ve figured out what your problem is,” Woohyun says when Sunggyu knocks and enters. His agents immediately fall silent, tapping at the laptop between their knees. “I thought about it all last night, you see.”
“Nam Woohyun, why are you here? You were released last week, and your chart doesn’t say anything about collapsing again or-”
“I think you’re attracted to me. I know, I know-it’s difficult, loving a pop star.”
“I don’t actually think you need to be hospitalized for delusions of grandeur,” Sunggyu says. “Those seem to be a given in your line of work. So I am going to just discharge you right now.” He nods to Agents One and Two briskly and turns around, grabbing the clipboard off of Woohyun’s bed.
“Does this mean you’ll go out with me?”
“Nope.”
Agent Number One winces. “That’s harsh.”
“You could call it a reality check. I think he needs one.” Sunggyu signs the pink paper with a flourish and hands it over to Agent Number Two. “Good day, then.”
Sunggyu closes the door a bit too slowly-fabric of a conversation he’s clearly not meant to hear slips through. “You heard that, Namstar. You’re fine.”
His stomach curdles a bit.
[--]
The next time Woohyun is rushed in, Sunggyu almost doesn’t bother stopping in to see him. He’s heard from the internet that it was a minor scratch, just a fall, and Sunggyu wonders if he took the hit on purpose just to get away. Not like Sunggyu really cares. Around midday, he realizes that technically it’s still his job to care about every patient, and it isn’t really Woohyun’s fault that Sunggyu dislikes idols so much, that Woohyun’s own lack of self-preservation is repellant.
“How are you doing today, Woohyun?”
Woohyun looks up when Sunggyu kicks at his bed lightly. His eyelids are paper thin, face stripped of color. “Oh it’s you. First name basis already? I like it, you move quickly. I wish you’d have come by when I called this morning, though. My pillow was flat.”
“This is a flagrant violation of patient-doctor something-or-other, just so you know.”
“That’s very convincing,” Woohyun mumbles. “And you’re not a doctor.”
Sunggyu finds that he’s grinding his teeth uncomfortably. “And you are not going to be a patient anymore after I sign these release forms. How convenient. You can sleep at home.”
Woohyun sighs and picks at his blanket. “I’m really not sure what your problem is, nurse. I’m just another sad, sick guy stuck in a miserable, lonely hospital bed-”
“Surrounded by thousands of gift baskets and flowers with a horde of fans screaming outside of your window. Really. How unfortunate.”
Woohyun brushes at his hair self-consciously. “I hope they don’t take photos. I’m not really looking my best today.”
The chart looks fairly complete, Sunggyu thinks. His potassium and iron levels are a bit low, but it’s nothing that a few steady meals won’t fix. There’s no real reason Woohyun should be taking up a private bed in one of the top hospitals in Seoul. He taps at the clipboard with the back of a pen.
“Take the rest of the week off and you’ll be as good as new, Nam Woohyun.”
Woohyun raises an eyebrow. “You know I have Running Man taping tomorrow night, right?”
“Well you can’t go.”
“If I’m out of the hospital, I won’t have a choice,” Woohyun says slowly. “I’m an entertainer. We work until we collapse, and then we work even harder.”
“You’re an idiot.” Woohyun’s chart is fine, Sunggyu reminds himself, but his voice is a bit hoarse, and it couldn’t hurt to keep him under obser-
“You look like you’re hesitating.”
“I’m-”
“You like me, don’t you?” Woohyun sits up, arms shaking, and slides out the bed. “Come on, you really just want me to stay here. With you.”
Sunggyu steps back. There’s something really wrong with the way Woohyun is flushing, the way his skin is too hot and his movement is too lethargic. “Woohyun,” he says quietly, and then a bit more loudly. “Woohyun. Stop. This isn’t right.”
Woohyun moves forward, hands around Sunggyu’s face and he’s way too attractive, his knees are edging against the outside of Sunggyu’s thighs. “Please,” he says or moans or something like that, Sunggyu isn’t really sure. “Please.”
Sunggyu closes his eyes. Woohyun’s mouth is warm and wet and a bit stale, but Sunggyu hasn’t kissed anyone in years so he arches back up into it, fingers digging into Woohyun’s back and arms and-
He jerks backwards, slamming his head into the wall. “Oh my god,” Sunggyu gasps. “I just kissed a patient. I should be fired.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t?”
Woohyun’s eyes are bright and feverish. Sunggyu wonders if this is the side of him he’s never shown anyone else before, the parts that are weak and uncomfortable and all too nervous. There’s sweat running down the side of Woohyun’s face. He looks exhausted, honestly exhausted.
Everything makes a bit more sense. “You did it so I’d let you stay here.”
“I-”
“If it means enough to you that you’d throw yourself at me, fine. Go ahead. Stay as long as you want. Stop paging me.”
“Wait, Sunggyu, I was just-”
“This isn’t the music industry. You can’t fuck people to get what you want, Woohyun.”
“I haven’t, you asshole,” he says, but it’s a quiet, soft admission and Sunggyu’s almost out of the door, clipboard in hand. “I wouldn’t. I-”
The door closes. Something thumps inside Woohyun’s room. Sunggyu hears it only because he’s pressed all too tightly against the wall.
[--]
“You need to switch him to someone else’s ward. I shouldn’t,” and Sunggyu can’t finish his sentence. He curls his fingers underneath the table.
“Cut him some slack,” Dongwoo says quietly, filing away the last of the folders. “He likes you. He just doesn’t know how to go about telling you like a normal human being.” Dongwoo pauses, “I’m glad you told me this, you know.”
“I had to,” Sunggyu replies, remembering the heat of Woohyun’s skin against his hands and cheek and mouth. He was using me.”
“He could have just asked me.”
“It still wasn’t right.”
“You’re-you’re not wrong. But this was different. Shades of grey, Sunggyu.”
“But-”
“He didn’t need you. I would have let him stay if he really wanted to. He knows that-we spoke earlier.”
Sunggyu kicks just a bit more viciously. “You could have told me that. I didn’t know you’d been talking to him.”
“He’s famous,” Dongwoo says flippantly. “I wanted his autograph.”
“Still.”
“Look, Sunggyu. You get too excitable. Not everything needs to be so fatalistic. Not everything is do or die. And not everyone is exploited.”
A deep breath. “I’m not wrong.”
“Maybe. But you’re also not always right. You have to let people pick their own battles, you know. You’re not very good at that.”
“It’s wrong.”
Dongwoo slams the table, and Sunggyu jerks backwards. He’s rarely seen Dongwoo this irritated. “Then change it. If you care so much, hyung, you’ll change it. But don’t take it out on Woohyun. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“He knew what he was getting into.”
“This is still his dream.”
“But-”
“Sunggyu.”
Sunggyu pauses, sighs, and shrugs helplessly. He knows when he’s lost. And Dongwoo’s logic is, as always, terribly convincing. “His agents look creepy.”
Dongwoo rolls his eyes. “Now you’re being ridiculous. Is that somehow his fault?”
“It was still wrong. I’m his nurse! Position of power!”
“You know you’re not being entirely logical, right?”
“And what does this say about my taste in men?”
“Hmm. Well. My boyfriend likes when I call him Ho-baby in bed, so I really don’t know if I’m the best person to ask.”
Sunggyu twitches. “Oh my god. Where do we keep the brain bleach.”
[--]
Woohyun discharges himself that evening. Sunggyu finds out that he’s gone to his taping anyway, and bites his lip furiously. He can imagine Woohyun still reeling from that comment, voice soft, off key, skin hot, eyes tired.
Just because that’d been his problem with the industry doesn’t mean Woohyun hasn’t made it on his own two feet. He takes a deep breath and searches all of the music blogs for Woohyun’s name, reads his biography, about the boy who grew up wanting to be a singer so badly that he stood onstage in dresses and skirts and sang through too many layers of lipstick. An agency that was worthless before they found him. A name that meant nothing before he’d wowed audiences with his debut single, Be Mine, an intense track with a dance that left him breathless but always, always on key.
Namstar, his audiences chanted in the background of all of the live performances Sunggyu could find. Namstar, Namstar, Namstar.
[--]
He probably didn’t even eat anything, Sunggyu thinks. What an idiot. They’re all idiots.
He gets the address from Agent One who thankfully left his cell phone number as Woohyun’s emergency contact and drives over after work, still in his scrubs, dirty and tired and completely irrational. When he arrives, Woohyun is smiling and laughing and has way too much makeup on. His coworkers compliment him on his health and well-being and Sunggyu wonders if they don't see the purple tinge circling the underside of his eyes or how carefully he navigates the set.
Woohyun might be tired, Sunggyu thinks, but he’s good.
Regardless of how tired he might be, Sunggyu can admit that Woohyun is a professional through and through. He moves through his routines and he might be a bit warbly, but he hits his notes and rolls off of them strongly, always into a sharp vibrato that sends chills up Sunggyu’s spine.
They call for a break two and half hours in. Woohyun staggers off to the side and grabs a water bottle from an aide before catching Sunggyu’s eye.
“You should have stayed in bed,” Sunggyu says, hands in his pocket. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
“Well look who it is,” Woohyun laughs, fuller and more deeply than the one he’d heard a few moments previously. “They let you in?”
“I’m your medical consultant. I have a badge. Nurses get badges. It’s pretty cool.” Sunggyu pokes at it for emphasis.
“Makes up for not having a stethoscope, huh?”
“Sort of.” Sunggyu stares at the ground. “So, uh, accept my apology?”
Woohyun leans back on the fence railing unsteadily. He repositions himself, and Sunggyu wonders if anyone else notices how thin he is. He waves to a few fans before continuing: "Why are you here, though.”
Sunggyu blinks. He’s not entirely sure. “Uhm.”
“I didn’t even call for you. I don’t know your number.”
“Oh,” Sunggyu says. “Well. If you need it. For. Medical things. I can give it to you.”
Woohyun blinks. “Are you serious right now? Medical things?”
Sunggyu thinks he’s pretty serious. It’s nearing midnight, he’s still in his work clothes, and he’s tired and sweating and he has to be up in a few hours for his shift and there is no reason why he should be shifting uncomfortable in front of an idiot who can’t take care of himself and works too hard and is wearing a stupidly huge amount of makeup. “Yeah. Stuff.”
“Wow. That is just so articulate,” but Woohyun smiles and leans in and runs a finger down Sunggyu’s chin. “Didn’t you just say-”
“I’m sorry. Not everyone is like me.”
“You?”
“I was,” and Sunggyu can’t really continue, can’t really find the words. There’s so much to say, so many years of self-hatred and misery and want and crushed aspirations. Dark boots. Bruises. A pen, a contract he couldn’t sign. Woohyun’s hand is frozen over his cheek. “It doesn’t matter. I read your biography. It’s lying, by the way. You aren’t really 176 centimeters tall.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” and Woohyun moves just a bit closer, skin still hot, eyes still tired. “But,” and here he pauses.
“Yeah?”
“You have to come if I call. Always.”
Sunggyu laughs a bit breathlessly. “Not if I’m working.”
“But I’m lonely.” There's only a hint of honesty there, but it's there and Sunggyu closes his eyes and latches onto it. Woohyun has always been honest with him.
“So text me,” Sunggyu says finally. “Text me, you idiot. That's what normal people do. We’ll see how it goes from there.” I believe you.
Woohyun smiles.
[--]
It’s a hospital. News travels fast. Secrets travel faster. Especially when they get caught on the roof while Sunggyu’s on break and Woohyun is allegedly getting a cataract checked out by Sunggyu’s tongue. Woohyun quiets the press, but no one can quiet a nursing staff.
Dongwoo finds the entire thing utterly hilarious. “So does this mean I can start assigning celebrities to you again, or will you just sleep with all of them? Because Super Junior’s Leeteuk is here and-”
Sunggyu slips a foot out of his sneaker, bends over, and raises it threateningly in the air. “Come here. Just. Come here so I can kill you.”
[--]
From: Your Secret Santa.
Title: Diagnosing Acute Pneumoencephalopathy
Pairing/Focus: Sunggyu/Woohyun (with a ninja appearance from Dongwoo/Hoya)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: very, very vague reference to possible sexual abuse).
Word count: 3,773
Summary: Sunggyu really dislikes celebrity patients. Woohyun really doesn't care.
Most of the time, Kim Sunggyu really likes his job. He finds that he enjoys waking up at seven fifteen and rolling into a pair of clean scrubs and sneakers, padding out of his messy studio, wriggling the doorknob to make sure it locks properly, and rushing to catch the seven twenty-eight bus across town. It’s only mornings like this-morning full of rain seeping through his shoes and missing the bus and breakfast and needed to grab an overpriced buttered croissant from the cart in front of the subway, padding off of the train just in time to slip in through the back door with his employee ID-that Sunggyu regrets having gone through with training after all.
You wanted this, he reminds himself. You wanted to be a nurse. You came all the way to Seoul to study.
The hospital is never quiet. There’s always an emergency. Sunggyu shrugs out of his coat and flings his things into his locker and grabs a cup of free coffee from the lounge before dashing over to his station and grabbing a few cases off the rack. He flips through them idly, double-checking to make sure nothing’s urgent, and then groans when he sees a familiar name.
“This is mean, doctor. Really mean.”
“You were late,” Dongwoo sing-songs. “It’s your own fault.”
[--]
His first patient of the day is a celebrity. Sunggyu ordinarily avoids dealing with anyone famous, but everyone else has a full caseload already, and he’s not about to bother the head of scheduling, Kim Jongwan, for something as silly as his fairly irrational distaste for idol singers. He might steal Dongwoo’s lunch later, but that’s just because the doctor knows how irritable Sunggyu can be in the morning and shouldn’t have teased him.
Revenge is always better when it’s served around midday, after all.
He knocks before entering and introducing himself, tasting the syllables carefully. “Nam Woohyun?”
Everyone’s heard the name-the new soloist with more female fans than all of Super Junior combined. He’s sitting in bed, eyes low, blankets pulled up tight around his chin, one hand sticking out of the side and idly playing with a phone. Overall, fairly unimpressive. “That’s my name,” he says dully, “don’t wear it out.”
“Right,” Sunggyu says perfunctorily. Neither of them really want to be there, better to get down to business. “Well. How are you feeling today? It says here that you fainted on set?”
Woohyun plucks at the IV drip in his arm. “I’m feeling fairly conscious right now.”
Sunggyu resists the urge to slap his fingers away. “Okay. Not exactly what I meant, but that’s an improvement. Is there anything I can do for you while you wait for a doctor to see you?”
Woohyun sighs. “I mean I’d be more comfortable if you fluffed my pillows. Or is that VIP treatment only? Where do I register for VIP treatment around here anyway?”
“This is a hospital, Nam Woohyun, not a spa.”
“And I’m famous. I deserve celebrity treatment. My fans would be oh so upset if they found out that I was being denied the care that I need.” He looks tired, Sunggyu thinks, but that’s no reason to also be an asshole.
“You don’t need to have your pillows fluffed.”
“I have chronic back pain! I need to be comfortable. If I’m not comfortable I might scowl too much and wrinkle prematurely. And that would be a disaster.”
“We also offer Botox therapy here,” Sunggyu spits between gritted teeth. “Seventh floor. If you’re interested.”
“I’m too pretty right now for surgery. And I would like to keep myself all natural. Hence the pillow fluffing.”
“Oh dear. I really think I’m going to hate you.”
Woohyun finally looks up, pale and thin and smirking. “Hate is such a strong word.”
[--]
Woohyun buzzes for him thirty-nine times between eight and noon. Sunggyu begs five other nurses to take Woohyun off his hands, but they just laugh at him-Sungyeol even rolls his eyes and mimics strangling himself when Sunggyu offers to bribe him.
“Okay,” Sunggyu says the eighth time, “you really just need to stop and leave me alone. I have other patients to see! Chores to delegate! People to take care of! I am not your personal assistant.”
“I am ill. I need to be looked after. I need attention.”
“That just sounds creepy.” But Sunggyu pulls over a chair and checks Woohyun’s pulse, reading the figures off of the monitors. He’s stable. Of course he’s stable. There is nothing wrong with him. “Stop moving around so much and sleep. Or play Tetris. Just leave me alone.”
“I don’t like Tetris.”
“Then pick something that makes you happy.” Sunggyu copies down the blinking figures, checks to make sure they’re all aligned and within an acceptable range, and moves to excuse himself.
“Wait,” Woohyun says. “Wait.” And then, slowly, “I know this is sudden, but you’ve really won me over with your charm.”
Sunggyu tries not to crumple up the papers in his hand. It’s hard, but he just barely manages. “Fabulous. Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m just going to go back to my work now then, okay?”
“No really,” and Woohyun looks up, “your professionalism is great, I love it. Plus it’s nice that you pretended not to care about who I was. It was humbling. I’ll give you that signature you’ve been wanting-I know you’ve been holding yourself back, trying not to ask. No need to be shy, though.”
“Wow,” Sunggyu says, genuinely shocked. “You really are sick.”
"I'm being honest! You were just fascinating, really. Fumbling around the hospital, ignoring the world class superstar lounging in your ward. But the game's up. I’ve caught on. You’re helplessly in love with me.”
The hospital gown Woohyun is wearing slips over his right shoulder and exposes the line of his collarbone. Sunggyu thinks that the world is incredibly unfair. “Bugger off,” he says instead a bit too sharply, whirling on his heels and smashing the door behind him.
[--]
Apparently, Sunggyu finds out over lunch, Woohyun is just as famous for his scandals as his singing.
“I don’t want to hear,” he says the fifty-seventh time. “No fluffing. Zero. Can I go?”
Woohyun scowls. “I’ve figured you out, Kim Sunggyu. I even found out your name. You are no longer just another nameless nurse.”
“No, you’ve just figured out how to read the characters stitched onto my shirt. And I actually don’t care that you’re famous, surprisingly. At all. Not even a little bit.”
“It’ll make dating me very difficult, though. All those eyes watching our every move, following us around, et cetera.”
“Haven’t you dated, like, fifteen girls? And no one actually says ‘et cetera’.”
Woohyun laughs dismissively. Sunggyu tries not to notice how hoarse he is, how stiffly he moves. It’s his own fucking fault, he reminds himself.
“You have to date girls to avoid the rumors about sleeping with guys from seeping into the press. It’s the only way they agree to drop a story.”
“Wait.” Sunggyu’s intrigued despite himself. “You leak those?”
“Yeah. Trade secret. Promise not to tell?” Woohyun falls back into his pillow and fiddles with the IV. Sunggyu slaps his hand away thoughtlessly.
“Whatever. Stop buzzing for me.”
“I’m bored.”
“Troll the internet or something. I don’t know. What do celebrities do in their free time?”
Woohyun blinks. “We don’t have any.”
[--]
By the end of the day, Sunggyu finds out that Woohyun has been discharged and rushed to his next schedule. Sunggyu feels a bit irritated by that, but only professionally, only because of how clearly ill Woohyun was and how pale and thin he looked. But it isn’t any of Sunggyu’s business-he wasn’t even Sunggyu’s patient.
This changes the next Monday morning when he wanders in ten minutes early and Dongwoo throws him a chart. “He’s back.”
There’s something to tone of Dongwoo’s voice that sets Sunggyu’s skin on edge. Reluctantly, he peeks at the name. “I’m early! I’m early. This isn’t fair.”
“You’ve seen him already. This way I don’t have to bother with him.” Dongwoo rolls up his sleeves and adjusts his pager. “I’m off to go do important doctorly things. Fill me in on his case later?”
“Do you mean inappropriate doctorly things like the time I walked in on you and H-”
“Okay,” Dongwoo says. “One more word and I start subtracting points.”
“I think you’re forgetting that I’m actually higher up in the hospital food chain than you are,” Sunggyu retorts tetchily. “I’ve worked here for longer. And what points. What are points?”
“Life points. When you get to zero I’ll start reassigning all the celebrities to your ward.”
Sunggyu throws a glove at Dongwoo’s head. Everyone knows that Sunggyu hates celebrities, hates singers most of all, but idol singers take the cake. They overwork their vocals, they don’t ever get a good night’s sleep, and they’ve slept with half of the businessmen in Seoul by the time they debut.
“But how many points did I start with?”
It’s disgusting; it almost happened to him.
[--]
“I’ve figured out what your problem is,” Woohyun says when Sunggyu knocks and enters. His agents immediately fall silent, tapping at the laptop between their knees. “I thought about it all last night, you see.”
“Nam Woohyun, why are you here? You were released last week, and your chart doesn’t say anything about collapsing again or-”
“I think you’re attracted to me. I know, I know-it’s difficult, loving a pop star.”
“I don’t actually think you need to be hospitalized for delusions of grandeur,” Sunggyu says. “Those seem to be a given in your line of work. So I am going to just discharge you right now.” He nods to Agents One and Two briskly and turns around, grabbing the clipboard off of Woohyun’s bed.
“Does this mean you’ll go out with me?”
“Nope.”
Agent Number One winces. “That’s harsh.”
“You could call it a reality check. I think he needs one.” Sunggyu signs the pink paper with a flourish and hands it over to Agent Number Two. “Good day, then.”
Sunggyu closes the door a bit too slowly-fabric of a conversation he’s clearly not meant to hear slips through. “You heard that, Namstar. You’re fine.”
His stomach curdles a bit.
[--]
The next time Woohyun is rushed in, Sunggyu almost doesn’t bother stopping in to see him. He’s heard from the internet that it was a minor scratch, just a fall, and Sunggyu wonders if he took the hit on purpose just to get away. Not like Sunggyu really cares. Around midday, he realizes that technically it’s still his job to care about every patient, and it isn’t really Woohyun’s fault that Sunggyu dislikes idols so much, that Woohyun’s own lack of self-preservation is repellant.
“How are you doing today, Woohyun?”
Woohyun looks up when Sunggyu kicks at his bed lightly. His eyelids are paper thin, face stripped of color. “Oh it’s you. First name basis already? I like it, you move quickly. I wish you’d have come by when I called this morning, though. My pillow was flat.”
“This is a flagrant violation of patient-doctor something-or-other, just so you know.”
“That’s very convincing,” Woohyun mumbles. “And you’re not a doctor.”
Sunggyu finds that he’s grinding his teeth uncomfortably. “And you are not going to be a patient anymore after I sign these release forms. How convenient. You can sleep at home.”
Woohyun sighs and picks at his blanket. “I’m really not sure what your problem is, nurse. I’m just another sad, sick guy stuck in a miserable, lonely hospital bed-”
“Surrounded by thousands of gift baskets and flowers with a horde of fans screaming outside of your window. Really. How unfortunate.”
Woohyun brushes at his hair self-consciously. “I hope they don’t take photos. I’m not really looking my best today.”
The chart looks fairly complete, Sunggyu thinks. His potassium and iron levels are a bit low, but it’s nothing that a few steady meals won’t fix. There’s no real reason Woohyun should be taking up a private bed in one of the top hospitals in Seoul. He taps at the clipboard with the back of a pen.
“Take the rest of the week off and you’ll be as good as new, Nam Woohyun.”
Woohyun raises an eyebrow. “You know I have Running Man taping tomorrow night, right?”
“Well you can’t go.”
“If I’m out of the hospital, I won’t have a choice,” Woohyun says slowly. “I’m an entertainer. We work until we collapse, and then we work even harder.”
“You’re an idiot.” Woohyun’s chart is fine, Sunggyu reminds himself, but his voice is a bit hoarse, and it couldn’t hurt to keep him under obser-
“You look like you’re hesitating.”
“I’m-”
“You like me, don’t you?” Woohyun sits up, arms shaking, and slides out the bed. “Come on, you really just want me to stay here. With you.”
Sunggyu steps back. There’s something really wrong with the way Woohyun is flushing, the way his skin is too hot and his movement is too lethargic. “Woohyun,” he says quietly, and then a bit more loudly. “Woohyun. Stop. This isn’t right.”
Woohyun moves forward, hands around Sunggyu’s face and he’s way too attractive, his knees are edging against the outside of Sunggyu’s thighs. “Please,” he says or moans or something like that, Sunggyu isn’t really sure. “Please.”
Sunggyu closes his eyes. Woohyun’s mouth is warm and wet and a bit stale, but Sunggyu hasn’t kissed anyone in years so he arches back up into it, fingers digging into Woohyun’s back and arms and-
He jerks backwards, slamming his head into the wall. “Oh my god,” Sunggyu gasps. “I just kissed a patient. I should be fired.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t?”
Woohyun’s eyes are bright and feverish. Sunggyu wonders if this is the side of him he’s never shown anyone else before, the parts that are weak and uncomfortable and all too nervous. There’s sweat running down the side of Woohyun’s face. He looks exhausted, honestly exhausted.
Everything makes a bit more sense. “You did it so I’d let you stay here.”
“I-”
“If it means enough to you that you’d throw yourself at me, fine. Go ahead. Stay as long as you want. Stop paging me.”
“Wait, Sunggyu, I was just-”
“This isn’t the music industry. You can’t fuck people to get what you want, Woohyun.”
“I haven’t, you asshole,” he says, but it’s a quiet, soft admission and Sunggyu’s almost out of the door, clipboard in hand. “I wouldn’t. I-”
The door closes. Something thumps inside Woohyun’s room. Sunggyu hears it only because he’s pressed all too tightly against the wall.
[--]
“You need to switch him to someone else’s ward. I shouldn’t,” and Sunggyu can’t finish his sentence. He curls his fingers underneath the table.
“Cut him some slack,” Dongwoo says quietly, filing away the last of the folders. “He likes you. He just doesn’t know how to go about telling you like a normal human being.” Dongwoo pauses, “I’m glad you told me this, you know.”
“I had to,” Sunggyu replies, remembering the heat of Woohyun’s skin against his hands and cheek and mouth. He was using me.”
“He could have just asked me.”
“It still wasn’t right.”
“You’re-you’re not wrong. But this was different. Shades of grey, Sunggyu.”
“But-”
“He didn’t need you. I would have let him stay if he really wanted to. He knows that-we spoke earlier.”
Sunggyu kicks just a bit more viciously. “You could have told me that. I didn’t know you’d been talking to him.”
“He’s famous,” Dongwoo says flippantly. “I wanted his autograph.”
“Still.”
“Look, Sunggyu. You get too excitable. Not everything needs to be so fatalistic. Not everything is do or die. And not everyone is exploited.”
A deep breath. “I’m not wrong.”
“Maybe. But you’re also not always right. You have to let people pick their own battles, you know. You’re not very good at that.”
“It’s wrong.”
Dongwoo slams the table, and Sunggyu jerks backwards. He’s rarely seen Dongwoo this irritated. “Then change it. If you care so much, hyung, you’ll change it. But don’t take it out on Woohyun. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“He knew what he was getting into.”
“This is still his dream.”
“But-”
“Sunggyu.”
Sunggyu pauses, sighs, and shrugs helplessly. He knows when he’s lost. And Dongwoo’s logic is, as always, terribly convincing. “His agents look creepy.”
Dongwoo rolls his eyes. “Now you’re being ridiculous. Is that somehow his fault?”
“It was still wrong. I’m his nurse! Position of power!”
“You know you’re not being entirely logical, right?”
“And what does this say about my taste in men?”
“Hmm. Well. My boyfriend likes when I call him Ho-baby in bed, so I really don’t know if I’m the best person to ask.”
Sunggyu twitches. “Oh my god. Where do we keep the brain bleach.”
[--]
Woohyun discharges himself that evening. Sunggyu finds out that he’s gone to his taping anyway, and bites his lip furiously. He can imagine Woohyun still reeling from that comment, voice soft, off key, skin hot, eyes tired.
Just because that’d been his problem with the industry doesn’t mean Woohyun hasn’t made it on his own two feet. He takes a deep breath and searches all of the music blogs for Woohyun’s name, reads his biography, about the boy who grew up wanting to be a singer so badly that he stood onstage in dresses and skirts and sang through too many layers of lipstick. An agency that was worthless before they found him. A name that meant nothing before he’d wowed audiences with his debut single, Be Mine, an intense track with a dance that left him breathless but always, always on key.
Namstar, his audiences chanted in the background of all of the live performances Sunggyu could find. Namstar, Namstar, Namstar.
[--]
He probably didn’t even eat anything, Sunggyu thinks. What an idiot. They’re all idiots.
He gets the address from Agent One who thankfully left his cell phone number as Woohyun’s emergency contact and drives over after work, still in his scrubs, dirty and tired and completely irrational. When he arrives, Woohyun is smiling and laughing and has way too much makeup on. His coworkers compliment him on his health and well-being and Sunggyu wonders if they don't see the purple tinge circling the underside of his eyes or how carefully he navigates the set.
Woohyun might be tired, Sunggyu thinks, but he’s good.
Regardless of how tired he might be, Sunggyu can admit that Woohyun is a professional through and through. He moves through his routines and he might be a bit warbly, but he hits his notes and rolls off of them strongly, always into a sharp vibrato that sends chills up Sunggyu’s spine.
They call for a break two and half hours in. Woohyun staggers off to the side and grabs a water bottle from an aide before catching Sunggyu’s eye.
“You should have stayed in bed,” Sunggyu says, hands in his pocket. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
“Well look who it is,” Woohyun laughs, fuller and more deeply than the one he’d heard a few moments previously. “They let you in?”
“I’m your medical consultant. I have a badge. Nurses get badges. It’s pretty cool.” Sunggyu pokes at it for emphasis.
“Makes up for not having a stethoscope, huh?”
“Sort of.” Sunggyu stares at the ground. “So, uh, accept my apology?”
Woohyun leans back on the fence railing unsteadily. He repositions himself, and Sunggyu wonders if anyone else notices how thin he is. He waves to a few fans before continuing: "Why are you here, though.”
Sunggyu blinks. He’s not entirely sure. “Uhm.”
“I didn’t even call for you. I don’t know your number.”
“Oh,” Sunggyu says. “Well. If you need it. For. Medical things. I can give it to you.”
Woohyun blinks. “Are you serious right now? Medical things?”
Sunggyu thinks he’s pretty serious. It’s nearing midnight, he’s still in his work clothes, and he’s tired and sweating and he has to be up in a few hours for his shift and there is no reason why he should be shifting uncomfortable in front of an idiot who can’t take care of himself and works too hard and is wearing a stupidly huge amount of makeup. “Yeah. Stuff.”
“Wow. That is just so articulate,” but Woohyun smiles and leans in and runs a finger down Sunggyu’s chin. “Didn’t you just say-”
“I’m sorry. Not everyone is like me.”
“You?”
“I was,” and Sunggyu can’t really continue, can’t really find the words. There’s so much to say, so many years of self-hatred and misery and want and crushed aspirations. Dark boots. Bruises. A pen, a contract he couldn’t sign. Woohyun’s hand is frozen over his cheek. “It doesn’t matter. I read your biography. It’s lying, by the way. You aren’t really 176 centimeters tall.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” and Woohyun moves just a bit closer, skin still hot, eyes still tired. “But,” and here he pauses.
“Yeah?”
“You have to come if I call. Always.”
Sunggyu laughs a bit breathlessly. “Not if I’m working.”
“But I’m lonely.” There's only a hint of honesty there, but it's there and Sunggyu closes his eyes and latches onto it. Woohyun has always been honest with him.
“So text me,” Sunggyu says finally. “Text me, you idiot. That's what normal people do. We’ll see how it goes from there.” I believe you.
Woohyun smiles.
[--]
It’s a hospital. News travels fast. Secrets travel faster. Especially when they get caught on the roof while Sunggyu’s on break and Woohyun is allegedly getting a cataract checked out by Sunggyu’s tongue. Woohyun quiets the press, but no one can quiet a nursing staff.
Dongwoo finds the entire thing utterly hilarious. “So does this mean I can start assigning celebrities to you again, or will you just sleep with all of them? Because Super Junior’s Leeteuk is here and-”
Sunggyu slips a foot out of his sneaker, bends over, and raises it threateningly in the air. “Come here. Just. Come here so I can kill you.”
[--]