FLATLINE| JK

ten

I've managed to go a full shift without an encounter with Dr. Jeon. I was scheduled for Chief Kim's service today, general surgery, with Jimin, so we rarely saw Dr. Jeon, other than brief instructions for rounds in passing. As my shift drew to a close, a relatively peaceful one, thanks to Chief Kim's pleasant demeanor, I passed Son Kibum's room.

He's all alone, and I vaguely remember a receptionist's conversation with a nurse— his family lives in Japan and won't be here until tomorrow. The sight of the man all by himself after such a traumatic experience sends a pang of sadness through me. I guess after my save yesterday, I feel sort of protective over him, in some weird way. Sighing, I glance down at the manila folder with Mr. Son's case report and chart inside of it. I was planning on finishing it at home and calling it an early night to catch up on some sleep, but I don't feel right leaving Mr. Son alone.

Sighing, I step into the room and take a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs. I open the folder and start to complete the chart. The steady beeping of the heart monitor is the only sound in the room, apart from Mr. Son's breathing. His head is wrapped in bandages and his neck is stabilized to keep him from moving it and hurting his head. His eyes are closed, and he's rightfully exhausted, considering he just had a major operation. He looks so peaceful, but the image the metal scaffolding penetrating his head still remains in my mind. It goes hand in hand with the one of him unconscious on the operating room table, so pale from anemia he was practically translucent, the only things separating him from certain death being Dr. Jeon's skilled hands and a blood transfusion.

The almost-mistake was close. Too close for anyone's comfort, including his own. Pensively, I let the end of my pen brush against my lower lip. This man's life was hanging in the balance, and all that it could have taken to tip the scales in the wrong direction is one hasty decision made by Dr. Jeon. No wonder he was so angry at himself in the dim light of my apartment last night. Rightfully so, considering the mistake he made based on his own urge to seem superior to me and Hoseok almost cost Mr. Son his life. And then, my stomach lurches with a sickening thought—

What if I hadn't been there? What if Hoseok had chosen different words, what if I hadn't realized, what if we were too late? Mr. Son would be dead, and if the potential mistake hurt Dr. Jeon this much, I don't want to see how he would be if things had taken a turn for the worse. Dr. Jeon aside, Mr. Son's family would be traveling here with heavy hearts and funeral plans, rather than relief that their beloved son, brother, grandson is okay, after all.

"Moon?" A voice asks from the doorway, startling me out of my thoughts. That stupid voice I would recognize anywhere. I glance over to see Dr. Jeon, clad in his dark blue scrubs, scrub cap in hand. He seems to have just finished a surgery, and he looks tired, the same way I've looked all day, thanks to his midnight venture to my apartment.

"Dr. Jeon." I awkwardly greet in return, unsure of what he wants. Is he going to address his visit last night, or are we just going to continue to be this painfully awkward?

"What are you doing here? Isn't your shift over?" He asks.

"Just finishing Mr. Son's case report and stuff. For you to proofread tomorrow like you asked this morning. Remember?" I remind him. His eyes drift to Mr. Son, but guilt is evident within them, and he redirects them at me again.

"You can do that at home, you know." He informs me, and that ever so slightly tone of voice he uses when he thinks he knows better than someone becomes apparent. I fight the urge to use a nasty tone in return when I answer.

"It's okay, I'm almost done." I reassure him, but he doesn't give up.

"Go home, Moon." His voice is firmer this time, and he's talking to me more like my superior than before. He doesn't seem willing to drop this, and I'm really hoping I don't have to tell him the real reason I want to stay with Mr. Son. "You've just had your first couple shifts as a surgical intern, the most stressful and exhausting time in your life. You could probably use the extra sleep." He says. Maybe I could use the extra sleep because you woke me up in the middle of the night to have a minor break down that we apparently aren't addressing— He feels bad for being the cause of my exhaustion today, that's the only reason why he's showing anything more than indifference towards me. Of course, he's doing this to feel better about himself. Typical, ego-stroking Dr. Jeon behavior.