Archive of Our Own ^beta

Songhwa and Ikjun tried.

Really, they did.

It started with getting over the initial flush (or the cringe) of simply trying to feed each other, then calming their racing hearts after that first attempt at holding hands while walking side by side, and slowly, the way they created a quiet little bubble around themselves whenever they showed even the smallest bit of affection in public.

It had been a few months now, and though they were steadily working through what Ikjun called their “what other couples do” list—something Songhwa still described as awkward and funny—there was one thing they couldn’t quite get past.  

“Say it with me, okay? Ja-gee-yah—very slowly. Jagiya.”

“Ja-gee-yah.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, right? Ja-gee-YAH! Stop laughing!”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to hold in another wave of laughter bubbling up from her chest, the memory of the night she had tried to feed him in the very same setup flashing across her mind.

“Aish, why is this the hardest one?” Ikjun groaned, shaking his head in disbelief as he flopped back against her office couch.

“Gwenchana. At least we tried, okay?” Songhwa said softly. Once her laughter subsided, she picked up a piece of tteokbokki with her chopsticks and held it out to him. “Eat up, Ikjun-ah. You’ve had a long day.”

He straightened up, leaned forward, and accepted the bite with a pleased hum. “Thank you, Songhwa-ya,” he responses with the biggest smile on his face. She smiles back at him, the kind that reaches her eyes.

At least they got this one over with.

And just like that, they settled back into what was starting to feel like their new normal.

After knowing each other for half their lives, moving from friends to something more happened pretty naturally, with a few messy moments here and there. And somehow, just saying each other’s names now felt different—familiar yet new, light but intimate.

There was this unspoken understanding between them. That alone was enough.

And for them, it always had been.

Or so they thought.

It was one of those rare times when several professors from different departments ended up in the same place; this time, it was the emergency room. A heavy snowfall in the area that night had caused a multi-vehicle accident, leading to numerous casualties across a range of injuries, each falling neatly under their respective specialties. Fortunately, while the incident involved a number of people, the injuries weren’t too severe. Still, it was enough to pack the hospital’s ER with a flurry of activity.

Songhwa had just finished assessing a patient with a head injury, giving out instructions on the necessary scans and tests. She let out a small sigh of relief as her team dispersed, as this was a type of surgery she’d done countless times before.

As she made her way through the crowded aisle, she spotted Ikjun pulling open the curtain around one of the beds. She hadn’t seen him all day since they parted that morning, and judging by his casual clothes, it looked like he had rushed in just like she had after being called in. He was clearly searching for something, but paused mid-motion when he caught sight of her, doing a double take.

“Just in time! Hey—”

She stepped toward him, and his eyes zeroed in on her white coat like it held the answer to his problem.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a penlight, would you?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

“It’s my patient,” he added quickly, nodding toward the bed behind him. “He was in the accident, too.”

Without a word, Songhwa reached into her coat pocket. With a soft click, the familiar beam of the penlight lit up as she handed it over.

“You’re the best, jagiya!” he said, a little too loudly, flashing her a grin as he took the penlight and held it to his chest like it was precious. “Like, seriously, Songhwa-ya,” Ikjun patted her shoulder and went back to tend to his patient. “I’ll see you later!”

Songhwa instinctively stepped aside, pulling the curtain closed behind him, and nearly jumped when she found herself face-to-face with Bong Kwanghyeon, who was wearing a very amused smirk, while Jang Gyeoul stood behind him, whose mouth was slightly open in a surprised but playful way, holding out a penlight. A couple of nurses and residents nearby were suddenly very busy not making eye contact, smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths.

It wasn’t until the emergency medicine professor tilted his head and asked lightly, “So… jagiya, huh?” that it all clicked.

Songhwa could feel the heat flood her cheeks almost instantly. She was sure they stayed flushed red the whole time as she left the area, even with her head slightly down. When she finally reached the scrubbing station, she huffed out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding.

Great. What a way to cross that one off.

As expected, Ikjun totally reveled in how the whole ER thing blew up, though he claimed he did it absentmindedly. Songhwa swore she’d never make the same slip-up as he did, which was an easy feat since she had always loved calling her boyfriend just by his name.

On a Friday night after three long weeks, the group gathered again for a long-overdue band practice, their schedules finally and miraculously aligning for the month.

Of course, dinner came first.

“The edges are burning. Should I lower the flame?” Ikjun asked as he fiddled with the grill as usual, adding more meat.

They were at one of their go-to samgyeopsal restaurants, where plates and bowls piled high with meat, leaves, and banchan.

“Just rotate it, Ikjun-ah,” Songhwa responded, sitting opposite him, motioning him to hand her the tongs. “Here—let me, my love—not like that, you’re flipping it too early.”

The table went dead silent.

Jeongwon dropped his chopsticks. Junwan raises his gaze from the grill, mouth agape. Seokhyeong’s wrap paused in midair. Ikjun sat frozen, tongs still in his hand.

“I think I’m about to faint,” Ikjun blurted out, staring at her.

“Wait—” Junwan finally said, gasping. “Did you just say ‘my love’?”

“What?” Songhwa asked, casually plating the cooked meat. “Ani—I didn’t.”

“You so did,” Jeongwon said.

“I was talking to the meat,” she defended.

Seokhyeong looked genuinely concerned. “You... call the meat ‘my love’?”

Jeongwon leaned back, letting out a wheeze. “I can’t breathe.”

They broke into uncontrollable laughter. There was no getting away from it now. 

She pouted for a moment before breaking the silence.

“Yah, eat your meat,” Songhwa snapped at Ikjun, still refusing to meet his eyes as she busied herself with the grill in front to hide her embarrassment. “And not another word,” she muttered.

Ikjun nodded, pursing his lips with that smug yet loving look he always gave her.

The teasing and snickering continued through the rest of the meal.

That night’s song was 'Violet Fragrance', where she had her way, singing as payback.

But the night was still young, and Ikjun randomly suggested 'Beautiful My Love' as their closing act. The boys erupted in cheers, immediately agreeing to the suggestion even though they had played it before. Songhwa responded with a click of her tongue and an eye roll toward them.

Through the performance, her annoyance eventually melted away as she realized that every love song he now sang was meant for her.

She’d just have to let the incident’s remnants fade over the next few days, hopefully. Though she was already bracing for the “news” to spread at the hospital, especially since these were the people she considers her best friends.

She shook her head, half-laughing to herself, and resumed strumming her bass guitar.

Well, at least that was officially off the list. Occasionally.

———