For: inked_parchment
From: shanwens

Title: eighty cents and eight minutes
Rating: PG
Length: 2075 words
Summary: One of them wears a white coat and the other wears brightly colored beanies, but somehow they manage to bond over five minute conversations and bags of potato chips.
Warning: cancer, cheesiness

Notes: i'm really sorry i couldn't make this longer and less rushed for you T___T thank you for your lovely prompts!!! i hope this fulfills one of them satisfactorily ;;

“The walls of hospitals hear more prayers than the walls of churches.” Junmyeon has read too many books and magazines to remember where he first saw these words, but they have stuck with him for years and will probably never fade away. Hospitals often look black, white, and bleak, dusted with dried tears and wisps of requests that are too often not fulfilled. The soundtrack is usually filled with steady electronic beeps, the hurried pattering of feet in the hallways, and muffled wails that can be either relieved or devastated. It’s gloomier than Junmyeon had thought it would be. But those words stick with Junmyeon not just because they’re miserable, but also because they’re a reminder. He uses it as an answer when people ask him why he became a doctor, even when most of them believe it’s for the money. Like today, for instance. It’s late again, as it always is. There’s no time to get a meal, even the less-than-proper ones from the hospital cafeteria, so he’s here at the closest vending machine. A few clinks of some coins down the worn slots and a faint thump delivers Junmyeon his light dinner. “Hope that’s not your only meal for the night,” a voice behind him says. “Hmm?” Junmyeon spins around. A young man sits at one of the benches across from the machine, leaning back with his legs crossed and his hands in his pockets. “A packof potato chips probably won’t last you long, and you look like you’ve got a lot of work to do. I’m right, aren’t I?” “I suppose so, but this is my job. It’s what I do.” The other man frowns. “You look unnecessarily exhausted. Why do you do this to yourself?” This is where Junmyeon stands up a little straighter and answers. “People push their hopes towards me because I’m a doctor. Everything I do can make a difference, and if I can make a difference in a few more lives in a night at the expense of my own time, I’ll do that. I want to answer their prayers if I can.” “Hmm. That sounds nicer when you put it like that.” The other man breaks into a small but genuine smile that looks wonderfully friendly in the dim lights, and Junmyeon wonders what it would look like in pure daylight. “Well, I’ve got to go, and I’m sure you have somewhere to be too,” Junmyeon says without looking at his expensive watch, feeling a bit guilty for some reason. The other man nods without a word, sticking his hands even further in his pockets. “Good luck with whatever you’ve got to do.” “Thanks. Um, you too,” Junmyeon says, and he turns around hurriedly to walk back to wherever his beeping pager tells him to go. Only a few minutes later after hurriedly stuffing the potato chips down his throat does he realize that he should’ve asked what the other man’s name was. Just out of politeness. --- It’s funny, Junmyeon thinks, and maybe a little sad how the vending machines are some of the most colorful corners of the hospital. They’re like little respites from the endless monochrome of lab coats and test results, and they’re also some of the only machines that don’t continuously beep like a metronome of life and death. “Going for the sour cream and onion chips instead of regular this time? Aren’t you bold,” a familiar voice sounds from behind Junmyeon, and he spins around to see the same man from a few days ago sitting in the same chair a few meters away. He’s wearing an orange beanie this time. “I’m sorry, was that weird?” Junmyeon hadn’t felt himself start to smile. “No, it’s funny.” Funny that he remembers what Junmyeon got last time. “But yeah, this is probably as bold as I get. Nice to see you again.” “We’ve already met twice, so we’ll probably meet again.” He smiles boyishly. “What’s your name? I’m Jongdae.” Junmyeon almost envies the way the words slip so carelessly and amiably out of his mouth. “I’m Junmyeon. Kim Junmyeon.” “That’s a nice name. A nice name for a person who does nice things. You must be a nice person.” Junmyeon waves him off through a mouthful of a chip. (He’s eating them one at a time, for once trying to make the bag last a little longer.) “There are many people far nicer than me. If anything, you’re the nice person for trying to flatter me.” “Ey, now who’s trying to be the flatterer,” Jongdae laughs. “I’m just saying it how I see it.” He smiles widely again, and Junmyeon startles at the small swooping feeling in his stomach. “Well, so am I,” Junmyeon says. “Maybe we’re both nice.” Jongdae laughs again, but there seems to be an undertone of sadness in his voice. Junmyeon looks down at his watch, but Jongdae interrupts him before he can tell what time it is. “Oh god, I’m sorry. You should go. Save lives and stuff.” “Thanks,” Junmyeon blurts out. “For making me laugh on my break.” “You deserve a better break than this,” Jongdae says. “Try to eat something besides potato chips for your next meal.” He waves, his smile never vanishing, and Junmyeon doesn’t even have to think about returning the gestures because for once, he’s not faking his good mood. Junmyeon is supposed to know, as a doctor, that it’s not good to become attached to strangers, because it’s so easy for them to leave and never come back. But something about this man’s – Jongdae’s – smile is undeniably comforting, and Junmyeon can’t resist indulging himself. It seems like most of the conversations they have every day should be meaningless, but Junmyeon remembers all of the words they’ve exchanged over the past few days, and with Jongdae’s laughs woven in between the syllables they don’t feel empty. Junmyeon hasn’t known Jongdae for more than twenty minutes, but he has the feeling that he could talk to Jongdae for hours if they both had the time. --- “Hey,” Jongdae greets him one day. “What’s that?” Junmyeon says, feeling somewhat stupid while pointing at the bag sitting on the table next to Jongdae. “No chips for you today!” he cheers. Junmyeon’s mouth falls open as he sees steam rising out of the carton Jongdae reveals and the smell of hot food fills the air. “You’re a doctor. You should know that you need to eat good meals in order to work well.” “You didn’t have to at all! Technically, you didn’t even know if I would be here. What if I didn’t show up?” Junmyeon teases. “You’ll be here,” Jongdae says while starting to dig in to his food. Junmyeon should be worried at how reassured and trusting Jongdae is, but. “You know, one day if I’m waiting here long enough, I’m going to start talking to the walls. But this hospital and I are good old friends anyways,” Jongdae laughs. He should stop doing that, for it makes Junmyeon’s ears burn. “Really? How do you know this hospital so well?” “My ex used to get sick a lot, so I would come to the hospital with him from time to time.” Jongdae looks up expectantly at Junmyeon, as if waiting for him to react to the male pronoun. “That’s funny. My ex also visits the hospital a lot, but that’s because he works here.” Normally Junmyeon doesn’t talk about himself unless prodded, but he senses that Jongdae had left a silent question hanging in the air to be answered. If Junmyeon were surer of himself, he’d think that he saw Jongdae exhale a sigh of relief. After their conversation, Junmyeon suddenly remembers how sparkly Jongdae’s eyes were and the long shadows of his eyelashes. --- Of course it's no longer surprising to see Jongdae sitting across from the vending machine, but what is unusual is that Jongdae doesn't greet Junmyeon. Jongdae is asleep, hand supporting his head as he breathes slowly, unaware of everything. He's wearing a neon orange beanie today, and even though most of it's hiding, his hair looks thin and tired, somehow like his dry, parted lips. The scene is peaceful, and even though Jongdae looks like he's resting deeply, Junmyeon feels a trace of solemnness in the air. Junmyeon doesn't want to wake Jongdae, but before he leaves he places an extra bag of chips on the small table next to the chair. Hopefully Jongdae will smile as much as Junmyeon is right now. --- Junmyeon doesn’t know exactly how many days it’s been since he’s started meeting Jongdae at the vending machine, but he hasn’t fully acknowledged how happy their short conversations make him. Sometimes he finds himself humming as he walks towards the familiar corner or after they’ve had their words together, which earns him some strange stares from some of his coworkers. His humming abruptly stops when he turns the corner and the worn chair sitting there is empty. Of course it’s been silly of him to expect Jongdae to be here every time Junmyeon is, but he had gotten used to expecting the other man there waiting with a warm smile. Jongdae is always there first, but now he’s not. Junmyeon buys his chips and eats them one by one, trying to wait for time and to wait for Jongdae. He even waits for an extra five minutes, hoping that a brightly colored beanie will appear, but the corner stays clear. --- Jongdae isn’t there the next day either. Or the day after that. Junmyeon is starting to grow tired of chips, but he still goes back to the machine every day. He’s always alone. --- The elevator seems to be teasing Junmyeon, for it’s taking far too long. He’s so bored that he starts listening to the nurses standing behind him waiting as well. “This patient I have is so charming! He makes all of us laugh all the time and he has the nicest, cutest smile.” “Oh really? What does he look like?” “He has all these little beauty marks on his face and neck – it’s so gorgeous. And he wears this gross orange beanie all the time.” Junmyeon’s breath hitches. It’s been months, but he still remembers everything. Could it be…? He turns around briefly to sneak a look at the nurses’ nametags. They’re from the cancer ward. Junmyeon’s heart sinks. Still, there’s hope. Maybe he’s wrong and Jongdae’s fine, not in the hospital at all. But that still means that Junmyeon may never see him again. On his next break, he rushes to the cancer ward and tries to speak coherently to the nurse at the desk. “Excuse me, is there a patient here named Kim Jongdae?” The nurse clicks away at her computer. “Yes there is. He’s in room C323.” Junmyeon almost forgets to thank her before running in the room’s direction. --- A cute, surprised “Oh!” sounds as Junmyeon nearly slams the door open, so different from his normal carefulness. His chest isn’t pounding just because he ran over here. “Junmyeon!” It is Jongdae. He’s wearing the orange beanie, but Junmyeon can see that he’s lost all his hair. Even his eyelashes are gone, but his smile is the same. Junmyeon thinks it’s beautiful. “Hi,” he says rather breathlessly. “Hey,” Jongdae says, and he does that cute laughing thing that makes Junmyeon’s stomach bubble. “How are you?” Junmyeon says, not realizing how stupid it sounds until it’s out of his mouth. “I mean…” “Quite all right, actually.” Jongdae fidgets under his blankets, and then he beams. “I’m in remission.” Junmyeon lets out a huge sigh of relief that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “I was so worried.” “I’m more worried about how long it’ll take my hair to grow back. I miss my eyelashes.” Jongdae laughs again, and then his smile turns more gentle. “You know, I missed you.” The words are simple, but they hit Junmyeon hard until his smile hurts his face. “Me too. I mean, I missed you a lot. Somehow it’s a lot harder for other people to make me smile, but now you’re here again. It’s time for you to start your life anew.” Jongdae hits Junmyeon’s arm lightly, but he’s smiling so brightly. “You’re so cheesy. Stop that.” But, Junmyeon thinks, the bright sound of Jongdae’s laugh really does seem a lot like a new beginning. Not just for Jongdae, but for Junmyeon too. Maybe even for them.