At Pattaya Beach Hospital
"Dr. A, could you help for a moment? Three patients came in from a drunk motorcycle accident. One needs stitches because of a head wound. Please take this last case for me. The other two don't need stitches, but my assistant and I have to hold them down while treating their wounds."
"Uh… they're drunk? …Alright."
The broad-built young doctor named A was suddenly stopped just as he was about to finish his shift in the early morning. It was payday, and he had planned to go celebrate with his friends too. He had been rushing to leave, only to lose time dealing with irresponsible drunkards who could not even take care of themselves. At least they had not crashed into anyone else.
"Patient… patient, can you hear me?"
The young doctor called out to the tall, thin man before him. His hair was messy, his head split open with blood soaking half of it, running down his face and mixing with dust until it was hard to tell what he originally looked like.
The drunk patient lay with his hands clasped behind his head like a pillow, one leg crossed over the other as if he were lying by the seaside enjoying the breeze. His torn jeans were ripped all the way up, revealing a pair of glaring orange boxers. He looked completely at ease. The sight made the young doctor's eyebrow twitch at the sheer audacity of the man in front of him.
"Who's sick, huh? My head's split open, that's a doctor's fee kind of injury. A split head isn't a fever. Are you even a real doctor? Where the hell did my friends go? Damn it, the bike finally crashed. I told them to let me drive!"
The drunk man who had been called tried to pry open his heavy eyelids and spoke with a mind far from clear. Even so, his sharp mouth was still fully functional, firing words back and forth at the medical staff treating him. The broad-shouldered doctor could only shake his head in weary annoyance while lowering his gaze to the patient's file in the folder he had been handed.
Mr. Alize Duangkamol, twenty-three years old. Clear as day—vodka. It practically revealed the drinking taste of the parents in this household. What were they thinking when they named their child like this? The young doctor quietly chuckled at the alcohol name he knew very well, since he liked drinking too. Though probably not as much as this guy. Still so young, yet already such a mess.
"Patient, stay still. I need to clean the blood before stitching the wound."
The broad-built man put on his gloves and roughly wiped the dust from the patient's hair, face, and neck with wet tissues. The drunk man kept pushing his hand away the whole time, afraid the doctor would be rough with him. In the end, the young doctor had to pin both of the loudmouth's wrists down with one hand before cleaning the wound.
"Ohh~ so you're the doctor. You could've said that earlier. Why were you keeping your mouth shut like that? Don't be rough, doc! I hate pain. If you make it hurt, I'll really kick you, you know~ pleeease."
The drunk man had his face wiped clean and his long hair brushed away from his face, making him look a bit more presentable. In truth, he could even be called good-looking.
His large eyes were glossy from the alcohol. Both cheeks were flushed red, his small nose and full lips standing out against his pale skin. His neck was long and fair. His shirt had slipped halfway off his shoulder, revealing the clean line of a broad collarbone and a pink nipple. The front of his jeans was torn on one side, exposing his upper thigh against the bright orange of his boxers. His fingers and toes were long and neatly shaped. Overall, for some strange reason, he looked oddly sexy, but…
"With a mouth like that, maybe I should stitch your lips instead of your head. What did you drink to get this drunk? Tomorrow isn't even the weekend. Aren't you going to work?"
The handsome doctor, his expression stern, lectured him casually when he could not think of anything else to distract himself. The patient in front of him had already taken all of his attention.
A drunk, flushed man with messy clothes like this—what was there to find attractive about that? On top of that, the patient kept thrashing and complaining while being stitched, forcing the doctor to hold him firmly in place just to keep him still.
Normally, a drunk person just smelled of alcohol. But when the doctor's nose accidentally brushed against the man's neck while restraining him, right where the pulse beat steadily under the skin, he caught a faint, clean scent from the slender body. Without realizing it, he inhaled it fully, almost losing himself for a moment before snapping out of it because of the voice still talking right into his ear.
"Do it already. Who's so weak that they can't work after drinking? We're grown men. This is nothing."
The younger man lifted his chin arrogantly as he replied. It seemed that being cheeky and sharp-tongued truly ran in his blood.
"Hah! What kind of job do you do, huh, Mr. Smart Guy?"
The young doctor brushed dust off the man's arms and the oversized Hawaiian shirt. The last button was already gone, probably torn off during the struggle earlier. That left the entire slender front of his body exposed, flushed pink all over. The tall, slim body had a very narrow waist, so thin it could be wrapped easily with one arm, which was exactly how he ended up being pulled close and held firmly, seated on the large doctor's lap.
"I work at an automobile parts factory. So what?"
The casual conversation and the constant wiping here and there seemed to make the drunk man lower his guard. He leaned back against the chest behind him, chattering away nonstop with his usual bold mouth.
"Which company? So I know never to buy from them. Having an employee like you is a huge risk."
When the doctor looked around and saw no one free to help while he had already prepared the needle, he used one hand to hold the drunk man's face still while stitching the wound with the other, struggling awkwardly.
"Hey, doc! Ow!! Shit!! Easy, easy!
Doooc!! Ssshh—ahhh!! Aahhh!! Your hands are heavy! Let me go! That hurts!!"
Fifteen minutes later…
"Dr. A, do you want me to take your coat and wash it for you? It's covered in footprints. That patient was really something. Even when you were holding both his arms and hugging him tightly, he still managed to kick you with his feet. So stubborn."
Dr. Dao Rueang spoke after seeing the young doctor with his hair now messy and his once-clean white coat covered with the footprints of the drunken patient who had been shouting nonstop until his friends dragged him out of the hospital. Drunk enough not to even realize he had crashed his motorcycle and still thought someone else had been driving—just how drunk was that?
"Thank you, but it's alright. My shift just ended anyway. I'll have my younger sister take care of it. I'll head home first then. Goodbye."
"Goodbye."