1811: the 166th day of your voyage in space with your sole flight companion, astronaut!haechan, starts like any other.

the mission had been running smoothly, with nothing remarkable on the schedule. analyse some samples, go through any new messages from earth, double-check supplies.

on paper, it was meant to be one of the least eventful days of the week ahead.

you had both been spending time in the gym in your rare overlapping break time, getting your daily exercise; running on the treadmill with him on the one adjacent, in the middle of a contest of endurance to see who could hold out the longest.

the ship spins around to grant you a once-in-a-lifetime view of earth through the windows, just a tiny blue speck against the vast void of space. your gaze locks onto your home, and you let yourself get lost in thoughts of your life. right there, on that pinprick of colour smaller than your fingernail, was everything you knew and loved.

“missing home?” haechan calls out, seeming to have noticed what your attention was on.

you glance over at him with a sheepish laugh. reaching out to slow the treadmill down, you catch your breath before you make to reply as he does the same.

“it’s been so long since i’ve seen my niece,” you tell him what you’ve been dwelling over for a few nights in a row, chest still heaving from effort.

he snorts, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel. “she sent you a video message just yesterday. what was it about? her new elephant plushie she named after you?”

you can’t force the smile off your lips as you recall the very file he was referring to. “yeah, well… you know it’s different.”

he sucks his teeth and nods slowly. “fair.”

“just the thought of her naming a doll after me because i’m not there in person, you know?” you don’t need to verbally add that it breaks your heart for him to understand.

“yeah.” his eyes fall to the treadmill control pad in front of him. “hey, i’m sure she’s super proud of you. she’s probably bragging to all her friends that she has an actual astronaut in her family, and they’re ‘up in space at this very moment’.” he holds up air quotes and speaks in a proud, matter-of-fact voice in an attempt to imitate your niece.

your smile breaks wider at the image of her, beaming baby teeth and all. “hey, what about you? who’s boasting about you back home?”

haechan opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by your yelp of surprise as your weight vanishes with warning, your stomach lurching with horror as the floor disappears underneath your feet. you register him cursing loudly as his body floats—floats—up, without the comfort of gravity.

you swear the ship has abandoned you.

you were, of course, familiar with the sensation of weightlessness in space—but only when it was meant to be so, and the very implications makes your brain go haywire.

“shit, shit, shit—” momentary panic forces your arms to flail out to grab onto something, anything—and a hand catches your wrist as haechan pulls you into his chest.

“i got you,” though comforting, haechan fails to hide his own shock and confusion, “i got you.”

he unwraps one arm from around you to gently push off the approaching ceiling, sending the two of you drifting slowly back towards the floor again.

grabbing onto the handlebar of a treadmill (you felt tremendously thankful for the fact that they were fixed to the gym floor), he pulls both of you as close to the floor as possible in case the gravity machine decides to function properly again without warning.

your heart jumps to your throat again as his back thuds on the floor and pulls you down with him, falling onto his chest. neither of you having let go of one another the entire time you spent in unplanned non-gravity. “are you okay?”

your stray hair falls on your face as you push your head off his chest and nod blankly in reply.

“well,that wasn’t supposed to happen,” he says, though his face shows no sign of joking like usual.

“no shit,” you breathe out.

you both flinch when an alarm blares through the speakers, screaming of certain impending doom in the form of a system malfunction.

[10:24 am]

#8 hospital au + #63 everybody knows/mistaken couple + Pediatrician!Johnny

warnings: implied chronic illness, language

~~

As the words fell resonated around the room, you watched the woman in front of you. The sob that came from her was like a knife to the chest. Her husband wrapped his arms around her, trying to give her comfort while his own heart was breaking. They were lucky to have each other to lean on.

It never got easier to share the news with families. With only a few words from you, their entire world changed, shifted in ways that you couldn’t understand.

You clasped your hands together, trying to hide the tremor that was working its way to the surface, “I’ll let you guys have some time. The nurse will follow up with you in a few minutes, please let him know if you need anything from me.” Turning from the couple, you bit your lip to keep the tears that were brimming in your eyes. “Hey, Mark,” you greeted the young nurse who had been hired just a few months prior. “Give the couple in there 10.”

Mark knew more than anyone that diagnosis like those were hard on families. They hoped for the best but lived with the reality of the worst.

“Is it?”

You shook your head. The rates were unspeakable. To say those little words again would have you sitting over a bathroom toilet your entire lunch break. 

“Just make sure that they have all of the information they need. If you need anything from me, let me know.”

His eyebrows pinched together slightly as he nodded, “Sure, but- um-” you watched as he shifted nervously on his feet, “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you tried a smile. “Just a headache. Nothing some Tylenol”-and a long nap- “won’t fix.” Departing with a pat on the shoulder and a tight grimace, you made your way to your office. If you got there and locked the door before anyone saw you then you could have your cry. 

The door of your office didn’t budge as you jiggled the handle. “Please,” you attempted to open it again. “I just need you to work with me.” Locked. “Stupid piece of shit,” you gave the door a hard kick. 

“Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but maybe don’t take it out on yourself,” Johnny Suh leaned against the wall next to you. “I mean. I don’t think you would like me to have to take a look at you, would you, Doctor L/n? I, of course, have no qualms.”

“Leave me alone, Doctor Suh,” your turned your face away. He couldn’t see you cry. If he saw just how vulnerable this part of your job made you, he would just use it against you.

His heat and warm scent enveloped you as he moved in closer, “Come now, Doctor. There’s nothing wrong with admitting that maybe your first judgment of me was wrong.”

You shook your head refusing to answer him. Just opening your mouth you knew that the frustration and anguish you were feeling would come pouring out. The door knob jerked again and you slammed a palm against the door.

“Y/n,” oh no, he was using your first name. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” you sniff. “This stupid door locked me out of my office again.” A tear fell down your cheek and you tried to wipe it away before he saw. 

Johnny’s hand came up to rest on your arm, “Come on,” the light pressure of his hand guided you away from you door, “Don’t cry.”

Just like a man to not want you to show any emotion because it made him uncomfortable. Johnny is a doctor; he should be able to handle an array of strong emotions. So should you. You shouldn’t feel that much pain anymore. You should be able to disconnect from those emotions while you are at work.

“I don’t know what’s running through that beautiful head of you, but whatever it is, you’re wrong,” the door to a separate office swung open and Johnny quickly led you inside. “Here you go, sit.” His hands slid down your arms, guiding you to a plush couch. “Now you want to tell me what’s actually going on?”

You lip quivered as you tried to suppress a sob. Dark eyes caught yours as Johnny’s finger caught your chin, tipping it up so he could take in your face. A deep furrow pressed in between his eyebrows. His concern finally broke through your barrier. It didn’t matter that he may use it against you, you had to get it off your chest, “He’s one Johnny.” You raised a hand to cover your gasping breaths. “One. And I had to tell his parents that.”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay,” his arms reached for you and pulled you into his chest. “I understand.”

He would, wouldn’t he.

“I know that it hurts to give them that news.”

You shook your head, “I shouldn’t still be feeling this way. I have done this long enough that there should be a disconnect.” His shirt crinkled under the grip of your hands on his back. How was it that the one guy you were always trying to avoid was the one to comfort you then?

“I disagree,” his breath covered the top of your head. “Being able to empathize and sympathize with our patients makes us more humane. It makes the hard time seem less daunting and the good times even better. If we disconnect our patients don’t feel like they are being taken care of or like we just look at them like another lab experiment.” You sank further into him as he rubbed a hand up and down your back. His fingers made small circles across your spine every time your breath hitched and you had to wonder why he did that. “Every single one of your patients love you because you connect with them beyond just a diagnosis. You work yourself to the bone and then you put in more work to check up on families and kids that came in here months ago. Parents appreciate that and kids know that you are one of the safe adults. In this field there is nothing more important.”

“Thank you,” it was a soft whisper into the crook of his neck, but you knew he heard.

He hummed lightly, “They don’t understand how much it takes out of you. But I do. So today, I am your doctor.” Pulling away from you he brushed away the hair and tears that stuck to your cheeks. “As your doctor, I am prescribing you one nap and two Tylenol.”

“How much medical school did it take you to figure out how to make that diagnosis?” you blinked up at him as he pushed you to lay down on the couch.

Grabbing a small pill bottle from his counter he shook it lightly and grabbed a bottle of water, “I think it was my third year.” He smiled down at you, and though you would never admit it out loud, it was kind of nice. Johnny was a nice person to have as a friend.

“Really,” you tucked your hands under your head. “I think it was my second year.”

“I knew you were the smarter one,” he set down the bottles and stepped toward the door, “Though I think that was always obvious. I mean I can’t be the pretty and smart one, can I?” You laughed a long with him. Even through the ache in your head, it did make you feel better. Johnny really was a miracle doctor. “Get some rest, find me later.”

“Thanks, Johnny.”

“Anytime.” The door clicked shut behind him and with a smile on your face you drifted to sleep.

The sly smirk Mark gave you when you wander back to the nurses station an hour later dropped when Johnny wandered up and squeezed you shoulder, “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks,” it wasn’t hard to give him a smile then. "I may have to invade your office more often.“

He shrugged, “Feel free to use my couch anytime.” And he walked away from you. No, you didn’t look at his butt, you were looking at the piece of paper he had tucked into his back pocket.

Mark screeched in your ear and you turned to find him quickly typing in his phone, “What are you doing?”

He hid his phone behind his back, “Nothing.” Red colored his cheeks as you continued to stare at him. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

He may have avoided your scrutiny then, but if the looks that nurses started throwing your way meant anything, he would be hearing from you again later.