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Heal Me (A Saeran x Reader fic): Chapter 01

A/N: Alright the first chapter is officially completed!!! YAY :D Btw, I made changes to the first part that I posted earlier as a draft. Hope you like it!

Note: This story takes place during secret ending 02, when Saeran is in the rehabilitation facility/hospital. It’s going to be full of spoilers, so be warned.

Also, please pardon me if I make any factual errors in describing the hospital/room that Saeran is in. I can’t find much helpful information online so I’m just going to use my imagination. :D

B A B Y ’S  B R E A T H;
a glimpse into one’s past innocence.

The smell of antiseptic. The sound of footsteps and murmuring of nurses and doctors as they crossed the hallways. The sight of patients in pink and blue hospital clothes out on a walk in the garden downstairs, seven floors beneath you.

It had all become somewhat familiar to you by now, having worked here as an intern for the past month. Although you had been somewhat uncomfortable here at first, things had settled down and it had become somewhat easier for you to interact with the patients here.

Of course, there were some exceptions. Namely, the new patient who had been admitted into the general private ward just a few days ago.

He had been the main topic of discussion among the nurses and doctors here for the past three days, as well as among the other interns. Nothing good had been said about him, from what you had heard so far. You had heard of incidents of violence against the therapists and nurses assigned to him, how they had been switching therapists for him every single day because none of them deemed themselves fit for the job. Your mentor had yet to be chosen as tribute, but you knew that he was praying hard that he wouldn’t have the privilege of being offered up as a sacrifice.

“I guess there are some people who just can’t be helped,” a fellow intern had commented just the other day.

You didn’t agree. You didn’t like the idea of someone being untreatable. It was the reason why you chose this career path in the first place. Besides, you had yet to see what kind of person he was, and making judgments based on hearsay just wasn’t your thing.

You knew it would be inappropriate for you to do something like this, but no one said taking a detour to your mentor’s office each day would pose any issue in particular. You knew where his ward was. The private general ward, located here, on the seventh floor. It was the third room down the hallway to the right of the lift lobby.

The lift doors closed behind you after you stepped out, and you scanned the area. There didn’t seem to be anyone here, thankfully. Carefully, you padded down the empty hallway as quietly as you could, staying alert in case someone caught you sneaking about here. The corridor was silent, and only the loud thumping of your heartbeat seemed to echo off the white walls. You slowed your walking as you passed by the second ward, craning your neck to the right. In just a few more steps you would be able to catch a glimpse of the man that everyone seemed so frightened of, through the long, rectangular strip of transparent glass in the middle of the rosewood door.

It was just for a few seconds, your view of the room exceedingly limited, but you could see enough. He was lying down on his bed, his head turned on its side towards the open window. You could see the outline of his side profile, a head of messy white hair with little pink highlights in them. The morning light through the window next to him cast a shadow over his face, and you thought your eyes played tricks on you when you saw that his were mint green. He was staring out the window, quietly, unmoving, and you would have thought he was dead if it weren’t for the tiny movements in his chest and ripples in his blue top that indicated he was breathing and very much alive.

He looked rather peaceful, tame, innocent. Kind of gentle, even, as the tiny wind from the air-conditioning tugged and nudged at his loose hair strands. Seeing him like this, you couldn’t bring yourself to imagine the violent atrocities that the others claimed he had committed. Then again, you couldn’t deny the scratches you had seen on one of the therapist’s hands just yesterday.

You were still curious to observe more about him, but you forcibly tore your eyes away from the glass and hurriedly continued on your way before you were noticed. It could spell big trouble if he noticed you and it triggered something in him. Unconsciously, you picked up your pace, striding down the hallway to take the stairs at the end down to the fifth floor where your mentor’s office was. It was time to start the day.

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      「   THEME #018: MUSHISHI by angelicxi   」
      ↳ [  preview one  /  preview two  ]
      ❥ the link to the codes is in the preview’s theme info post.

      I’ve been rewatching Mushishi a lot ever since I was in the middle of my exam sessions — it has a very calming effect on me — and finally decided to give some shape to the feelings it always leaves me with. Thus, a simple theme inspired by the episode title cards, perfect for just about any blog type.

      [ + ]  option for 400px posts;
      [ + ]  option for 500px posts;
      [ + ]  option for 700px posts;
      [ + ]  slot for a title (about 7 characters using break tags, jpn/eng);
      [ + ]  content (posts) will auto-center to accomodate your screen dimensions;
      [ + ]  posts are styled after the new dashboard format;
      [ + ]  post backgrounds can be either opaque or transparent;
      [ + ]  the sidebar strip background can be either plain (block) color or a gradient;
      [ + ]  background is by default plaincolor;
      [ + ]  option for a gradient background;
      [ + ]  option for a pattern/texture background;
      [ + ]  option for a wallpaper;
     tip: it’s recommended you use an image that is at least 1366px by 768px, but any size goes.
      [ + ]  option for update tabs (five, but you can manually replicate the code to add more);
      [ + ]  option for light tumblr controls.

      Do NOT:
         —  remove the credit
         —  use as a base code
         —  repost/claim as yours
      Respect the maker’s work, please.
      This theme is optimized for Mozilla Firefox & Google Chrome.
      It is best viewed on a 1366x768 screen resolution.

                            .: The Domestication of Chuuya :.
                                       [ Chuuya x F!Reader ]
                                           [ 6/? ] [ Index ]
                                  [ Fluff - Romance - Humor]

There were four pharmacies in walking distance, six if you counted the two inside the bigger stores at the end of the street. Three of them carried a specific brand of cough syrup, but two of them were out. This entire week had been exhausting; all he wanted was some damn cough syrup.

               White light bounced off the settling puddles dotting vacant sidewalks winding through the city. Nearly transparent strips of violet curved through the buildings as the sun gave way to the impending moon and with it came the cool breeze of spring blooming in to summer. Sweetly scented flowers dusted with leftover rainwater lined tiny apartment windows hanging over the shops and reminded Chuuya he’d have to buy new flowers for the bedroom tomorrow. On any other given night Chuuya would find a walk under the peaking stars romantic and he’d end the night with a bottle of red wine.

               The sneeze cracking through your ribs, however, was more than a dent in Chuuya’s love for wine and a romp in the sheets with the windows open. Cupping his thin arm over your shoulders Chuuya sighs heavily and kisses the side of your head. With the change in seasons came the allergies, the germs, and worst of all a very dedicated cold that had left you miserable for the better half of the week. Red nose, sore throat, on a very cranky girlfriend unwilling to let him help did not leave Chuuya in the best mood either. To boot Chuuya was not entirely the picture of patience, but he’d been with you long enough to know you’d never hold it against him. In spite of the little spats and cough-riddled arguments Chuuya continued to dote on you—even if you told him a hundred times over you were fine.

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(via Las Vegas Strip — 1958 | © Original 35mm Kodachrome Slide Transparency)

Anthro/Hock Artists:

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