Chapter Text
He may actually hate being a doctor. Well, he doesn’t know if he hates being a doctor yet. Jaeil sits in a stiff office chair and throws a sparkly, green bouncy ball at the wall in the first-year resident lounge, then catches it as it returns. Throw, bounce, catch. Throw, bounce, catch. Since the formal introduction, the rest of the first-year residents have been nothing but ice towards him and each other. All his attempts to gather everyone have failed, and he’s not actually sure if he can get along with anyone. Oh Yiyoung, she was the first one introduced. Resident repeater and doesn’t seem too happy to be here. Pyo Namkyung, the second one. She seemed like she would be fun to hang around, but she runs off after every shift. Kim Sabi, the third. Smart. She’s smart and she knows it, but that’s it. They don’t eat and they don’t have fun, seemingly.
There are no real friends in med school because of the heavy competition, and now there are no friends in residency? He is predicting his social life to be over before it begins. His seniors don’t seem to need him much, and even if he wanted to, the amateur, trembling hands are not very useful in the workplace. Often causing more harm than good, and getting an earful from the professors or the senior residents.
In an attempt to make friends, he decides to set up a tennis club with other doctors, but he fails at that too. Time is such a luxury in this field that most people want to go home immediately after clocking out, with team dinners being an exception. Dejected and alone on a Friday night, he’s still at the hospital after everyone has clocked out an hour ago.
“Oh! Kim Sabi!” he says in surprise when the lights turn on unexpectedly in the dark room. “You haven’t left yet?”
“I was viewing a surgery. Why are you still here?”
He doesn’t really have an answer for that that wasn’t embarrassing. I’m not a good doctor? I don’t have any plans? I don’t know what to do? Anything he could say feels foolish after hearing her say she stayed to view a surgery. He should have just followed her. An idea forms in his mind, but he’s not sure if Sabi will even listen to him. He tries anyway.
“Do you want to go play tennis?” he asks off-handedly, ignoring her question.
She’s holding her change of clothes when she looks at him blankly from the locker area.
“Tennis?”
“Why not? It’s good for you. Physical activity helps your energy levels, stamina,” he pauses as he runs out of reasons, “anyway, it’s good for you.”
“Pass,” she says decisively.
“Yah, you didn’t even think about it!” He protests. She only stares.
“I did. And I pass.” She dips into the change room and leaves the hospital that night like all the other residents. Jaeil eventually leaves after she does and sets the bouncy ball back on his desk, full of snack wrappers. Ice cold, he says to himself under his breath.
The time passes slowly when he clocks in on time. But when he leaves, it’s like he’s always the last one out. Variety shows on YouTube during lonely lunch hours, walking around patient lounges to chat with them, watching in awe–or maybe jealousy–from the background as his fellow first-years constantly run around and get called every hour. He looks at his phone log: last call 2 hours ago. Jealous, he’s jealous. It would feel nice to be needed.
He would see Kim Sabi almost every day since they’re both on the gynecology rotation, but she doesn’t really care for chit-chat the way it lives in him. Spinning in his office chair during another lonely lunch hour, he throws his head back during a spin and spots Sabi’s knot practice.
Well, there’s nothing better to do during lunch, he sighs. May as well do something useful. This morning, he was yelled at during surgery, and Professor Jo banned him from the operating room until he can prove he can do these simple tasks correctly. ‘One can do everything but can’t think, the other can’t do anything but can think. Aigoo…how will you two even pass first year evaluations…’ Professor Jo had said to him this morning with heavy disappointment in his tone. It didn’t feel good hearing that. All he could do was say ‘I’m sorry,’ with his head down. Though it did comfort him that Kim Sabi was not perfect either.
He sighs again as he looks at Sabi’s efforts. These knots are hard, though. Not bothering to cut the string again, he continued the knots from Sabi’s previous practices. Noticing his loose incompetence next to hers, he stayed longer than expected, practicing them until his knots looked like hers. Feeling satisfied an hour later, he finally leaves the room to prepare for afternoon rounds with a new confidence for the evening surgery with Professor Jo again.
The other doctors had recommended Dr. Ku, the fourth-year chief resident for the tennis club. Tennis did happen twice before everyone started getting busy, but Jaeil admits he wished he could be with fellow OB-GYN residents for activities. For team bonding, he tries to rationalize to no one but himself. Knowing Dr. Ku’s meticulous weekly schedule, he still approached him. He was rejected immediately, but he understands. Still, he sits alone in the resident lounge after everyone leaves, staring at a blank chart while spinning a pen he randomly found this afternoon at the nurses’ station. Kim Sabi is still here, he notices upon seeing her textbooks. Ahh, Professor Seo’s surgery, he recalls. So diligent.
“What are you still doing here at 11? You’re not on call today,” she says with surprise when she enters, holding her pocketbook.
He turns around in his chair from the desk station.
“I don’t know,” he starts. “What do you do after work, Sabi?” Was that shock? An expression briefly passes before returning to her usual, blank face.
“Study,” she says as a matter of fact.
Of course.
“That's right. Because you're Kim Sabi,” he replies. Why did I even ask?
Only the rustling sound of Sabi getting ready to leave for the day fills the empty room he’s been sitting in for hours.
“That tennis thing,” her voice cuts through the room, grabbing his attention. “Is the gym still open right now?”
He springs up from his chair, ready to convince her more with papers, when she beats him to it.
“I saw your browser open this afternoon, so I looked at it. Mian. The health benefits of sports are good. From time to time, I can go with you.”
“Then let’s go,” he says, beaming.
He didn’t know then that Sabi started packing gym clothes after the first time he asked in case he asked her to play tennis again. And he didn’t know she found the courage to ask when she saw someone had added extra, loose knots to her perfect rows, ultimately making theirs look like hers. The effort was the sincerity she was looking for, but the willingness was what he was looking for.
As it turned out, Sabi is not only competitive in school and work, but also in sports. He couldn’t put into words the first time he played with her one-on-one and was absolutely obliterated. Tennis sometimes turned into tennis every week on Friday after work, and became the one thing they both looked forward to all week. They still played singles, but on the rare occasion when other departments’ residents would join as well, they would end up playing doubles. He learned then that Sabi is extra competitive because “OB-GYN is the best,” and when she gets annoyed, the intensity of her hit is multiplied. And sometimes, when the games ended– no matter win or lose– her flushed face looking at him in satisfaction made him smile without thinking.
11:30 PM and three failed relay update calls later, the group of four first-year residents sit at the communal table in exhaustion. He already ran down to the convenience store to buy food to feed her, so her work anger wouldn’t amplify because she is hungry. Sensing Sabi’s frustration and imminent lecture, he tried to lighten her mood with a story. For some reason, he would much prefer her to release her anger at him, call him a fool, lecture him, whatever. Just to get her mind off work stress while they wait for the incoming call from Dr. Myung Eun Won.
“I was called ‘Daeil’ earlier today even after I said many times ‘I’m Um Jaeil’,” he says with a sombre expression. “Am I just that forgettable? How is that possible? I’m the first resident who used to be an idol. I think they’re probably bad with people’s names. Right, Sabi?” he nudges her arm out of habit, and she drops the imitation crab she was holding in her chopsticks with a splat.
Fuck.
He looks away immediately and rolls his chair to the far side of the table, knowing her wrath is incoming, but her death glare pierces his existence without even looking. At least at this distance, he’s safe from any attacks. She hits really hard, and he did not want to be on the receiving end of that.
“Seriously, how can you guys not know your own patients?” Sabi blurts in annoyance. “Well, it’s not really your fault,” she corrects, “It’s just, all my plans get messed up and it’s really disheartening.”
He hangs his head low, knowing it’s Sabi’s day to go home and catch up on new papers in literature. There’s not much he can do about that– he hated reading.
“It’s delicious,” she says with a change of tone, biting into the rest of her meal box.
She will be okay for at least the next hour.
He doesn’t know why, but he is relieved.
For Jaeil, watching his fellow first years seemingly succeed in earning patient rapport as well as the medical staff’s appreciation hurt the sense of belonging he is craving for. He wanders far, but always within the bus line for the direct bus to Yulje, hoping someone would look for him, call him, or miss him. For the first time in weeks, his phone battery only drained 20% by the end of the day, when it would usually be through two charges already. I wonder what Kim Sabi is doing all alone in gynecology right now. The thought briefly crosses his mind, but not enough to guilt him into going back. I’m not needed anyway, he thinks, looking at his blank lock screen.
He didn’t know then, Sabi’s annoyance when she spent her break times looking for him or when her mind wandered while she was sitting at the nurses’ station, glancing at the empty chair beside her. And how she was extra irritated when she was done surgery and walked fast to the resident lounge just to find his usual, bouncy ball self not sitting there like she expected. She didn’t have it in her to call him back then, and much to Namkyung’s surprise, it was Sabi’s outburst when she walked in an hour later. Call Um Jaeil and tell him to get back right now! Tell him we need him! He didn’t know they would fight for no reason over who was calling whom, and why, but when he received Namkyung’s call, he felt really happy to know that at least someone needed him.
“Agh! I’m so tired!” Jaeil flops on the sidelines after defeating the second-year cardiology resident team during their weekly tennis outings. He looks to Sabi for validation only to see her flushed face and hairline damp with sweat, with a small, triumphant grin as she packs her belongings.
“Sabi sabi, do you want to eat something?” he says, getting up to sit cross-legged.
She shakes her head, no.
“I don’t eat late at night,” she explains.
“Ahh.”
Secretly, he smiles to himself when she sits next to him at the tteokbokki stall on the street, happily chomping on her spicy rice cakes. The wind was minimal, the air was warm, and maybe the lighting was right. He learned a few things that day. First, Sabi likes tteokkbokki with cheese, sausage, and extra glass noodles, no exceptions. Second, she becomes really talkative when explaining the multiple topping combinations to give his mouth flavour explosions he had never imagined from rice cakes. Third, Sabi’s animated face while eating is really entertaining and eating with her is really fun. She can even make a simple tteokbokki stall meal an event. If only she were around during my trainee days, I wouldn’t have eaten so many boring meals.
At some point, Jaeil started following Sabi around. Not like a sidekick, but more like an alarm clock. Did you eat yet? Did you do your charts yet? Schedules were learned, quirks remembered, and meals were always eaten together. They learned to read each other and found the line where the other needed help in their tasks, but did not have the time or shame to ask. Despite all of this, they were still not willing to reach for the details they did not know. It was almost unspoken how they never pried, never wondered why, and were always there like a constant, unwavering.
The extra glass noodles for Sabi whenever Jaeil ordered tteokbokki,
They’re all for you.
Whenever Sabi and Namkyung fought, he’d see the fracture of rage on her face,
Let’s get food, Sabi. You like pork trotters, right?
The fussiness over the on-call schedule when Sabi’s strict fairness drew the line for him when he didn’t know how to,
‘Why are you such a fool and just cover anyone’s shift?!’ She had vented to him in anger.
She said it was an inconvenience to the next person making the schedule. He didn’t know what she meant by that.
When Namkyung accused him of playing favourites by ordering the pork trotters that Sabi liked, he didn’t know how to respond either.
It’s because Sabi likes them.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know why.
Just don’t want to see her angry.
He didn’t know then that the tall, short-haired girl who started taking over all his thoughts and his time would take over his life wholly, engulfing him in warmth.
And he didn't know why work, thereafter, was a little more bearable.