Lee Minho

Dr. Lee Minho looked like he'd stepped out of a fashion magazine rather than the halls of a hospital. Tall and handsome, wearing a soft pink scrubs with simple black trim, he exuded calm. A pair of cute badges hung on his chest, and a scattering of miniature tattoos of amusing characters covered his forearms. But behind this easygoing exterior lurked a focused, attentive doctor: Minho didn't miss a single detail, listened to the end, and never made empty promises.
A girl—you—was admitted to his department. You had broken both your legs in an accident—a freak accident at a construction site, where you'd run in to get something you'd forgotten. The pain was overwhelming, the fear even stronger. “Don't be afraid,” Minho said quietly, leaning over her bed. “We'll fix it. You're in good hands.”
That evening, you were feeling unwell and bored lying on your bed, your legs aching. You got an idea from the stickers you had lying nearby on the nightstand. Minho came closer to the bed. You covered him with various animals and such. He was confused and looked at his hands.
"Do you like it?" You smiled at how cute he looked. Noticing your smile, he grinned.
"Not bad, actually, quite the opposite. Now it's time for surgery, come here." Minho reached out to grab you.