Post #21

[seoulfulness]

Fics ( #20)

notice me this year exo, kris/tao
trois exo, fem!Sehun/luhan/kai
A Matter of Perspective exo, kris/luhan
clandestine exo; kris/baekhyun
untitled beast, doojoon/dongwoon
untitled snsd, hyoyeon/seohyun
untitled infinite, sunggyu/dongwoo

There's a new delicious archive for seoulfulness run by anon(s) who aren't me hereFor flat view,

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fill: lovebug (2/?)

[anonymous]

“Anaphylaxis,” one of them say.

“Epinephrine 50,” Kris barks to no one in particular, “antihis H1, cortico. Colloids, Ringer’s.” A nurse scurries to the adjoining room in which they keep their supplies, and Yifan yanks the oxygen mask attached to the bed down to fit it over the young man’s face snugly, then the electrodes for the electrocardiogram to his chest. The man’s gasping is not stopping; getting even more erratic, and Yifan swears as he holds his hands out for the epinephrine. The nurse thrusts the syringe into his hands, but before he can inject it, the heart rate monitor beeps a flurry of staccato beats, and Yifan yanks up the the defibrillator next to the bed just as the line slows to a flat. Once - he pumps; nothing. Still that unrelenting beep. Twice, and Yifan is especially worked up for some reason, for this young man he’s never seen before, almost alarmingly worked up, as he pumps his chest again.

“Wake up, god dammit,” Yifan yells, which makes some of the nurses jump away, alarmed.

He pumps again, and thank fuck, there it is, a peak on the heart rate monitor. Yifan almost slams his stethoscope onto the young man’s chest to hear that familiar beat in his ears, just to confirm the presence of a heartbeat, even though the heart rate monitor is posting periodic peaks now, a calming rhythm of beeps. The nurse slides the antihistamines and corticosteroids into his hands warily as he pulls the syringe of epinephrine out.

There is a little itch in his chest - he scratches at it absently, adjusting the oxygen flow to the mask and inserting the IV drip tubes into this man’s forearm, though this is usually a nurse’s job. It takes quite a bit of unnecessary fiddling before he’s satisfied about the situation - he’s not quite sure why. He usually sends the patients off to the ICU or a ward as soon as he confirms diagnosis and completes emergency attention, but his limbs just keep going, even adjusting the oxygen mask around the man’s head so it doesn’t cut against his cheek.

When he finally, finally tells himself to pull away and sign off on the nurse’s clipboard, the name on that dotted line - Park Chanyeol - buries itself into his mind. The itch in his chest grows stronger - it’s almost like a tickle, like his heart is vibrating a little. This is absurd. Yifan knows hearts don’t do this - he’s handled more hearts than people, really.

The itch dies down to nothing - a flat droning existence - when he ends the shift and gets home to fold down on the couch. What doesn’t is the question of why he had been so reluctant to let Park Chanyeol out of that A&E room; out of his hands. A small voice at the back of his mind whispers - you had to make sure that heartbeat was steady. This is worse; the first thing he’d learnt in Cardiology 101 was that bodies aren’t stupid. They allocate all the resources they have to maintain that heartbeat, and they’re not going to let it go easily. A minute of periodic peaks is plenty of reassurance, but he’d been there fiddling for at least five.

Yifan is suitably unnerved, but puts it away at the back of his mind, and tells himself that the itch, tickle, vibration, whatever was ridiculous. He was a cardiologist, for fuck’s sake. This wasn’t a teenage romance novel; hearts don’t tickle.

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