Chapter Text
The blistering mocha, cappuccino, and dark roast coffee mix sets off the perfect bittersweet taste on his tongue. The hot coffee cup keeps one hand from freezing as he closes the door with the other, the car automatically locking. The well lit garage is desolate. Only a few cars here and there - considering it is only 6 A.M. and no person in their right mind would be willingly awake.
Namjoon takes his time strolling across the pavement, lifting his hands up to block the glaring sunrise that peeks between the concrete columns. The drifting cool breeze grazes his face before ruffling his purple hair.
Once he exits the parking complex, Namjoon looks both ways before crossing the small space to the hospital’s entrance. It’s been a week since he transferred here from Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. The jet lag still muddles his brain - thank god for coffee. Seoul National University Hospital ranks as second best in Korea, but his father had called in favor, so instead of choosing the Samsung Medical Center to reside in during this doctor exchange program he chose Seoul National University Hospital.
The industrial air conditioning prompted his thick turtleneck (grey today), black pleated pants, and annoyingly white doctor’s lab coat. The coat stained way too easily which led to him visiting the dry cleaners way too many times in the short period since he started living in Seoul.
The endless navy ink smudges streaking round the cuffs became Namjoon’s trademark. It’s not that he couldn’t write with another writing utensil, but that this was the only shade he could stand looking at. The blue was extremely pleasant on the eyes unlike the other vibrant hues and he absolutely refused to stare at black and white ink all day.
Namjoon rolls his neck, trying to work out the kinks from curling into a ball when he slept. It had seemed a great idea at that time, but he really should have known better. In addition, his lanky limbs protested from being bent for a long time, but the enjoyment from transforming into a human burrito swathed with heavy winter blankets compensated the pain.
He walks with purpose so all the nurses would assume he’s busy. He couldn’t handle anymore formal conversations that led to questions, particularly about his wrists and the symbols. That’s what everyone seems hell bent on figuring out. Thoughts of: What category would the cute American exchange doctor belong to? What is his compatibility with all of them? How in tune was he?
Partners. Marriages. Relationships. Soulmates. All determined from the markings on a person’s wrists.
Once a person turns 18, markings will appear on their wrist: α (alpha), β (beta), Ω (omega)
The alpha, beta, and omega symbols indicate a person’s rank: Dominant, switch, or submissive. Most people will have only one character. (Around 90% of the population) These symbols are most often a burnt rust color since there is only one character on the person's wrist.
A double alpha letter points to a dominant alpha figure (Composes 10% of the population). A double omega letter indicates a submissive omega character (Composes 5% of the population). An alpha and omega symbol together indicates an incredibly adaptable and in tune switch (8% of the pop.) These two letters can either be a sangria, silver, or gold color. (sangria being the lowest rank in the double letter category and gold as the highest)
However, the rarest ones bear the same three letters. They are the “pura” (the pure ones). They are the top of the food chain and the pinnacle of society’s ladder. Less than 2% have these marks. These golden letters designate the complete dominants and submissives. They are the most coveted and adored. They have 100% compatibility with their characters. Even their blood have incredible healing and drug-like qualities, hence why the pura often remain hidden.
Categories reveal potential partners and the step just before the compatibility testing. The categories are: Girl/Boy, Brat, Submissive, Age Player, Experimentalist, Prey, Masochist, Degradee, Vanilla, Exhibitionist, Voyeur, Pet, Monogamist, Slave, Sadist, Daddy/Mommy, Degrader, Dominant, Hunter, Brat Tamer, Master/Mistress, Owner, and Rigger.
Every single person undergoes a series of tests when they’re of age and each year after which determines their category(ies). Any person with a 95% or higher in a category is a “soleist”. Less than 5% of the population can acquire the score. That would require a person to have complete control and integration with the category.
The compatibility testing includes two people putting their wrists together with the tattooed sides facing each other. A number from 1 - 100 would then appear beneath the ranking markings.
Any number less than 50% lasts less than a minute as a pale honeysuckle on the skin. There is little to no compatibility romantically for the two parties; however, a platonic relationship is possible.
Numbers 51-75 appear as a deep evergreen that lasts an hour. Although higher than the last, there is not enough compatibility for people to pursue a relationship.
Numbers 76-89 appear as grey ink and last for a week. Most partners fall into this category. 85% of married couples bare this number range.
Numbers 90-99 appear as black and crimson ink, lasting for months. These people are soulmates in this life and must swear a loyalty oath as well as have deep, true feelings for the other(s) or the mark will disappear. 14% of people carry this number.
If two people touch and a 100 appears, gold and black script permanently sears itself onto the skin, revealing that they are reincarnated soulmates. They are “The destined.”
There are certain places people can go to in search of partners. These places are similar to clubs where people can mingle and meet potential mates. If they qualify to enter the establishment, they can choose to remain anonymous in their rank or disclose it. Namjoon suspects these establishments are part of the reason his father had asked him to go reside in Seoul. Many of those places are located here.
Namjoon reaches his designated work floor: The VIP Critical Emergency Unit and White Cases. He holds his designated ID bracelet to the scanner. Every person has one. There’s a standard issue given to everyone, but the higher the rank you are, the government will give you a different one. Namjoon chooses to keep his the standard issue, although it’s functions are canyons ahead of the standard issue. He’d rather keep the anonymity.
He hates working here, so he often assists the regular Emergency Unit until he’s needed. Most VIPs are people that need their wounds efficiently treated and willing to pay the obscene hospital charges. Namjoon hopes that he won’t need to consult a white case anytime soon. Although that’s what he’s most well known for, each one leaves him in tears. To see a person pushed to the brink with no one to cleave onto, that they would harm themselves by damaging their character marks - there’s an incomparable pain both by the victim and Namjoon each time. There’s few doctors that meet the qualifications for this field hence why many were shocked that Namjoon had chosen second best.
“Morning Namjoon-ssi,” Jungkook greets, while going through his responsibilities list. He’s just below Namjoon in the hospital ranks. His impeccable sense of style shines with the fitted black button up with flattering black slacks and black dress shoes. The bright double gold omega characters lie just below the younger’s identification band.
The omega is always more than happy to take over the VIP floor when Namjoon isn’t here. He’s been a big help to Namjoon and hasn’t inquired about his rank, seemingly sensing that anyone who asks is immediately blacklisted by Namjoon.
“Morning Jungkook,” Namjoon replies while flipping through the paper stack held together by a clip, listing all the patients he has to check up on.
Seems like Mr. Min needs his leg reevaluated and family contacted before he can leave. That man, honestly. Namjoon almost bursts out laughing. Mrs. Yong needs her IV bag changed later and prescribed medicine administered around noon.
The foreign affairs minister, Mr. Min, somehow sprained his ankle from tripping on the sidewalk. Namjoon had been the one to look after him when he stumbled in at midnight, apparently on his way to deliver papers to a colleague. The doctor had taken one glance and put the politician on bed arrest. The man looked sleep deprived and weary - deeps eye bags, hand jittering from way too much coffee, and a second away from falling asleep.
“Who’s your first patient for today Namjoon-ssi?” Jungkook hugs the materials to his chest with the stethoscope around his neck and jogs up to Namjoon’s side.
“Just Mr. Min for now.” Namjoon grabs his (favorite) pen - the one with the dark blue ink of course-, marking down the date and time on Mr. Min's chart while walking towards his room. Maybe he should go grab a tea at the starbucks in the canteen and a little breakfast afterwards. One of those danishes would be divine honestly. Wh-
“Wait.”
Namjoon halts, turning to face Jungkook who just interrupted. He raises his eyebrow while Jungkook nervously rubs his wrist then the back of his neck, blushing slightly. The lavender and soft rose highlights complement the kid’s oak hair.
“Are we talking about the minister of foreign affairs? That Mr. Min by any chance?,” Jungkook inquires, biting his lip. He seems nervous talking to Namjoon.
“Yeah. Do you know him?” Namjoon begins walking again with Jungkook right next to him.
Both their shoes produce a rhythmic beat against the reflecting white marble floor. Paintings hanging from the wooden walls give off a homey feeling.
“He’s my best friend’s dad. Yoongi Hyung is going to flip on Mr. Min when he learns about this. He’s always telling his dad to not work so late in the night.” Jungkook smiles, front teeth slightly protruding, golden brown eyes crinkling with hands gesturing wildly. “He is sooooo getting it.”
They reach room 100 soon enough. Jungkook patiently waits for the elder to scan his ID bracelet which would open the door. The hospital installed them as a security measure for the patients’ safety and privacy. The red light changes to green and the younger slides the door open.
“Mr. Minnnnn...” Jungkook sings while walking in. The tri-paneled window allows the gentle sunlight in. Instead of a hospital room, the interior looks like a bedroom.
The older man looks up from his phone, “There’s my favorite doctor,” he hugs Jungkook, “... Now magine my surprise when I didn’t see you here, but Namjoon instead.”
“Namjoon-ssi has only been here for a few days. He’s from America.”
“I see. I don’t suppose you’re gonna keep this incident a secret from Yoongi for me are you?” The older man teases, ruffling his hair.
“Absolutely not.” Jungkook replies with his pocket buzzing.
He reaches inside, eyes widening comically, “Shi- I mean shoot. I gotta go give Jisoo noona my patient charts from yesterday. Oh my god. She’s gonna have my head.” His legs trip over each other as he attempts to untangle the sheets. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” Jungkook yells while hightailing it out of the room, door slamming closed behind him.
“I’m gonna check your ankle and wrap it if you don’t mind?” Namjoon grabs the compression wrap from the cabinet.
“You’re the expert here Doctor Kim.” Mr. Min puts his phone on the bedside stand and folds his hands on his lap, giving Namjoon his full attention.
Namjoon drags an adjustable chair over to the bed while setting the chart onto the small wooden table next to the phone. Mr. Min moves his from underneathe the comforter. It doesn’t look too bad honestly. 2 weeks without any strain will do just the trick, Namjoon tells the man this.
Mr. Min laughs, “... guess I’ll finally have to put my secretary’s driving skills to the test…He’s always yelling at me to get a butler so I’m not doing everything myself.”
Namjoon smiles in response and hums, wrapping the cloth around his ankle.
“You’re Minister Kim’s son aren’t you?”
Namjoon continues his ministration, but there’s just the slightest moment of hesitance that the elder picks up on.
The double silver alpha characters are apparent on Mr. Min’s wrists.
“Relax. I’m one of your dad’s closest friends and also asked for you to come over here.”
Namjoon cuts the fabric and pins it with a tad,a bit, a smidgen of unnecessary force.
His hands tighten, remembering how he could be somewhere else with his best friend. He could be drinking those diabetes/sweet smoothies that Jackson’s absolutely obsessed while in Amsterdam or eating baguettes in Paris instead of Seoul or walking the camino as a pilgrimage just like Jackson and him had planned the trip since the first year of medical school. But no. He’s in Seoul…. given a task that he will fulfill. Because he is a filial son. Because he owes that much. Nevertheless, there’s still a lingering bitterness fresh in his mouth. (There’s still a crap ton of bitterness) It sharpens his tongue and unfiltered his mind.
“Am I supposed to be grateful sir?” Namjoon retorts politely.
“Christ no. I’d probably be hating my guts too if I was in your position... Honestly, we didn’t expect for you to agree. That’s probably why Kim never brought you up, knowing you would comply. Such a filial son you are.” There’s a slight hint of remorse in his voice.
Namjoon’s still incredibly infuried. ( and mad salty )
“ My father has never asked for much. If he asks me to go to Korea instead of Europe, I will. If he wants me to babysit I will.”
“...I’m sorry Namjoon-ah. You must know why we asked though. You’re different, but don’t show it at all. No one could ever guess. Exceptionally skilled and able to adapt to any situation. None of the others could do it...”
“ That’s what happens when your dad is the minister of Defense. That’s what happens when you’re kidnapped when you’re barely a teen. That’s what happens when you’re the most prized and sought after submissive any dominant would forcefully claim for themselves if they knew… You learn to survive…”
Mr. Min reaches toward him, “If the situation wasn’t so dire we never would have asked. I’m so sorr-”
Namjoon abruptly stands up to grab the patient chart before the man’s hands could graze his arm. He pauses by the door before leaving, voice deadly serious and cut throat, “... Don’t be. Don’t apologize. Train your sons. I won’t be here forever. You and the others have one year…. Then I’m gone…”
“We understand.”
“Good. Jungkook will be your primary care physician for the rest of your short stay. I’ll transfer the you over to him. Have a good day Minister Min.” Namjoon leaves the room and the door shuts.
He goes back to the main nurses station, gently rapping his knuckles on the counter to get her attention, “ Somin-ssi, could you please transfer Mr. Min’s case to Jungkook-ssi?”
“Of course Namjoon-ssi, but can I ask why?” Her nails click against the keyboard as completes the task. She doesn’t beat around the bush and goes for the target. He appreciates that. No useless banter.
“Turns out they know each other, so it would probably be more comfortable for Mr. Min to have Jungkook as his Primary Care Physician.” Namjoon smiles, swiping the mango lollipop from the mug of goodies she keeps next to the laptop.
“How thoughtful of yo- Yah! Why are you always stealing these, they’re for the patients. Honestly, one would think you’re a small child instead of a grown man. Always sucking - pun intended if you’re into that.” Soomin playfully adds.
Namjoon lets a genuine laugh escape at that. His eyes crinkle up, dimple showing with a wide smile as he gasps for air.
After regaining his breath, he scans the nurses countertop, eyebrows furrowing. Soomin’s bright pink lunch box is nowhere to be seen. Odd. Namjoon checks his watch. It’s 6:20, meaning she’s only just come in and would be drinking her smoothie while filing paperwork per her daily routine. After that she goes to drop her lunch off in the breakroom.
She has to pack since as the head nurse and a vegetarian, there’s barely any time for her to even breathe; nevertheless, go out to buy food during lunch hour.
“ Where’s your lunch?” Namjoon inquires as he spots the pink smoothie on the other counter next to a manilla folder pile. Strawberry? Peach? Raspberries probably. He recalls she just had strawberry yesterday and peach before that.
“ Oh,” Soomin flushes fingers pausing briefly, “I was in such a rush today I forgot to grab it before I left, but by the time I realized it was too late. Already more than half way here. I’ll just have to grab something from the cafeteria probably.”
“No offense, but unless you’re willing to dish out big bucks to go eat at the noodle stand. Everything else is pretty bad.”
Namjoon recalls the first day he was there and craving some rice congee. To say he was disappointed would be an extreme euphemism. Instead of a delectable broth with specially prepared rice, it was similar to boiled water with overcooked instant rice. He had then shelled out $16 for a bowl of udon noodles and although it was delicious, the price was over the top. He had sworn to bring home packed meals from then on.
Soomin laughs while putting her bracelet on the scanner to authorize the transfer, “ Yeah you’re right but what can I do,” She shrugs, “...Matthew has an important meeting, so I’ll just have to deal.” Matthew, her mate is a financial analyst at some big company that Namjoon can’t seem to remember at the moment.
Namjoon places his elbows on the counter while putting his hands together and resting his face against it while lowering his voice to a humorous octave, “Listen. I got some butternut squash ravioli or rice and vegetable stir fry that you can help yourself to. Don’t say anything young padawan. Just marvel my kindness.”
Soomin giggles, trying to hold her laughter in. Who could take Namjoon seriously with that voice. It was like seeing a ferocious kitty. Impossible. Adorable. “Thank you then Namjoon. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Just then his phone rings, he should really replace the screen protector. The numerous cracks on the side were starting to get one his nerves, “Kim Namjoon speaking.”
“Yes. This is Seolhyun from ER. You asked me to call if there’s a possible code White. Please hurry.” Her voice crackles over the phone.
“Fuck. Yeah. Okay, I’ll be right down. Thank you. Whatever you do, do not allow him to leave this hospital.” Namjoon takes off running to the ER which is literally 2 floors down and across the hospital. Why was this even allowed? What genius decided which floor was which?
By the time he gets there, out of breath and panting, there’s a hysterical young man resisting the nurses and doctors and screaming. Blood splatters paint his clothing and it’s an absolute mess of limbs and cacophony of sounds that grate against his ears. Not good. Have these people never learned how to deal with code white patients. One wrong move and it’s over. No one is dying on his watch and certainly not this young man.
Namjoon rushes over, screaming everyone to “ Back the fuck off. Do you not know why he’s reacting so violently.” The boy was falling mentally and hard. All this stimuli is clouding his judgement and forcing his mind into a complete and utter fight or flight stage.
The doctors release the boy, shocked by Namjoon’s cursing. To hear such an exclamation was the opposite image he had. Everyone dissipates, watching from the sidelines.
The boy turns to run away shouting that ‘it was a mistake to come here’ and that he’s ‘going to be punished if he doesn’t get back.’
Namjoon sprints, tackling the boy and turning to take the brunt of the falling impact. The boy thrashes in his iron hold, but Namjoon only tightens his grip and hugs the boy, shushing him, voice a gentle lull, “It’s okay, It’s okay. You’re safe now. I got you.” He can sense that the boy is slowly regaining consciousness as the animalistic instincts recede.
He lifts the boy, gesturing for the security guards to keep watch in front of the ER. He brings the boy straight to one of the nicer long term rooms, the White Cases rooms are too far away. Namjoon needs to assess the boy before doing anything else.
The boy wraps his arms around Namjoon while he unlocks the room with the ID band. He sets the boy down on the quilted bedding, but the boy doesn’t let go.
“I’m just gonna go get some water and a cloth to clean you up.” Namjoon’s voice convinces the boy to listen.
He nods and lets go.
Namjoon reaches for a bottle of water and gives it to the boy before grabbing a soft towel in the en-suite bathroom and filling a large bowl with water. The warm water splashes against his hands as he brings it back.
He sits next to the boy as the sheet ruffles. He grabs a bottle of alcohol and adds half of it to the water to cleanse the cuts. Namjoon dips the small towel into the basin of lukewarm water and wrings it out before sweeping it across the boy’s face.
“... Jeonggyu…” The boy mumbles.
“ Excuse me? ” Namjoon responds, having been focused on removing the blood. Dried crimson blood surrounds shallow cuts near his jaw. A good amount sticks to the boy’s hairline, almost as if he slammed it against a hard surface.
“ ...My n-name. Kim Jeonggyu…” He stutters, hiccuping with stray tears flowing down his face.
Jeonggyu’s eyes close with long lashes dampened from the tears.
“Mine is Kim Namjoon, but call me hyung yeah?,” the elder suggests while tugging the younger’s jacket, signalling for him to take it off. He needs to see the damage.
The younger complies albeit hesitantly. Once the blue jacket is off, Namjoon curses aloud, “Fuck, okay okay give me a second.” He slightly stumbles, rushing to the cabinets and praying to God, they keep what he needs. The cuts are worse than he imagined.
Namjoon gives a quiet “Thank God, yes, bless.” Once he spots the black bottle he gives a silent thanks. Agrimony - the finely milled powder alone has awe some healing properties, but mixed with other various solutions it’s a miracle poultice.
Tears cloud his eyes as they shift to an orchid. Each time, he feels the pain as if it’s his own. He finally lets the sobs escape while snatching the bottle and grabbing the bowl next to other medicine bottles.
The boys voice pierces through his sobs, “... It was the only way I could escape hyung…Even the Agrimony won’t be able to reverse the effects of my actions...”
Jeonggyu clenches his fist even as a steady trickle of blood continues to escape from the scratches on his arm right over the double omega characters.
“I don’t regret it hyung. My parents wanted me to mate with them, but I couldn’t. No matter how much I tried, I would lay awake wanting to kill myself before even lingering on the thought, but they said we would make a great match - the perfect couple,not knowing that behind that saccharine smile, they mentally and physically corroded me. It destroyed me. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Namjoon’s right palm grips his face, violet eyes staring right into him, the command in his voice absolute even with the occasional cracks from the tears, “ Listen to me. You’re gonna survive , you hear? I’ve got you now and no one dies under my watch.”
He presses another cloth onto the boy’s wrist. Silver. A mating of convenience? Most probably.
A male silver double character omega. Not common. A semi-rare sight in itself, but at this rate the boy will die in minutes if he doesn’t act.
Namjoon pushes up his coat and sweater sleeves. The three gold characters stand in stark contrast to his skin.
He reaches into the coat’s pockets, retrieving the small emergency tool kit. Flipping it open, the metal opening clanks against his watch.
He reaches for the scalpel and holds it over the empty bowl, pressing the metal object against his palm, breaking the skin so that an appropriate amount of blood drips before removing the scalpel. It immediately heals over, skin reverting back to normal and leaving no trace.
He pours out a large amount of Agrimoney and mixes the brown powder and blood together until it’s a thick paste.
“Give me your wrist Jeonggyu.” Namjoon hastily commands, holding out his palm. Jeonggyu starts looking a little dizzy probably from the blood loss and intense pain, but Namjoon’s voice demands him to obey through the haze.
Jeonggyu complies. He lets his eyes wander as Namjoon carefully presses the mixture onto the long gashes. A warm feeling travels through his arm as soon as it touches the wounds, reducing the blind pain to a throbbing dull immediately. The cool poultice immediately seeps into his skin and cuts.
Namjoon wraps the wound up once after wiping all the excess blood, “...Don’t… Don’t ever do that again. I might not be here the next time… okay?,” Some tears land on the white coat even as he tapes the bandage wrap, “...come here..,” The elder spreads his arms.
Jeonggyu wraps his arms around Namjoon, basking in his hyung’s scent and warmth. “ I’m sorry hyung. I’m so sorry and thankful. I’ll keep your secret too don’t worry.”
“I know.” Namjoon didn’t doubt it for a second.
“C-c-could you contact my brother hyung and e-explain what happened?” The young submissive fidgets, feeling Namjoon’s gaze. Yes, Namjoon is a doctor and just saved his life, but Namjoon is leagues past him in rank. Why Namjoon had even gone to such lengths to save him eludes his mind. Nevertheless he is extremely grateful. He wouldn’t have to feel suffocated any longer. Namjoon would free him.
“Of course.” Namjoon unlocks his phone and hands it to Jeonggyu.
He looks up at his hyung confused. Hazel eyes meet Namjoon’s that have reverted back to their boring mocha, “Doesn’t the hospital have all of this on record already?”
“There’s a highly probable chance that your parents will be contacted then and that they will contact your partner . I’m assuming that you trust your brother a lot more, so contacting only him at first is the safest option.”
“Oh, I-I-I didn’t think about that. Thank you hyung.” He taps the 10 digit number into Namjoon’s phone. “Here.”
Namjoon accept the phone back, clicking the call icon. After two rings, the static clears.
“Kim Taehyung speaking. Who is this?”