heart attack
dmd!haerin x bsed!fem!reader
synopsis: i’ll give you all my heart, take my heart! / surely we’re destiny / it shines fully tonight
or danielle invited haerin to sit in your literature class.
includes: college!au, dmd!haerin, nursing!hanni, r and dani are both education majors, slow burn!!!!, w*lliam sh*kespeare
word count: 2.2k (shortest fnzktn fic yet wow!)
a/n: this is a sneak peek of the upcoming dmd!haerin !
the classroom always smelled faintly like old paper and dry-erase markers. not strong enough to notice right away, but if you sat there long enough—long enough for the air conditioner’s quiet hum to fade into the background—you could start to separate the layers of it. dusty textbooks that had been handled by too many students, the faint sweetness of marker ink lingering in the air, and the sugary smell of someone’s bottled iced coffee sitting open somewhere behind you.
you sat somewhere in the middle of the classroom, close enough to look attentive but far enough that professor wendy wouldn’t accidentally call on you if she decided to start asking spontaneous questions. most days that balance worked perfectly. today you were actually trying to focus, though your attention kept drifting back to the printed page sitting on the desk in front of you.
the whiteboard at the front of the room had already been filled before class started.
survey on english and american literature poetry interpretation activity
beneath it was a short list of poems written in neat blue marker.
your group had been assigned sonnet 29.
the printed copy lay between you, danielle, and hanni, its edges already soft from being passed back and forth while the three of you read the same lines again and again. danielle leaned forward with her elbow on the desk, pen tapping lightly against the margin while she reread the stanza in front of her with careful concentration.
across from her, hanni looked like she was regretting every decision that had led her into this classroom.
she wasn’t even supposed to be here.
she had walked in earlier with the casual confidence of someone who knew professor wendy wouldn’t mind another student sitting in for a lecture. apparently she had a long vacant before her next nursing class and had decided this was a better way to kill time than wandering around campus.
now she stared down at the poem with open suspicion.
“i’m just saying,” she muttered eventually, nudging the paper with the end of her pen, “this guy sounds miserable.”
danielle didn’t look up. “that’s the point.”
“yeah, but like… extremely miserable.”
you glanced down at the opening lines again.
when, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, i all alone beweep my outcast state…
danielle tapped the second stanza. “he’s comparing himself to other people. look at this part—wishing me like to one more rich in hope. he wants the things other people seem to have.”
hanni squinted at the line. “so basically he’s jealous.”
“not just jealous,” you said.
both of them looked at you.
you shifted the page slightly closer and traced the stanza lightly with your finger. “it’s envy, but it’s also insecurity. the speaker isn’t just noticing that other people are doing better than him. he’s measuring his worth against them. every line is basically him listing what he thinks he lacks.”
hanni leaned forward slightly despite herself. “so he’s spiraling.”
“pretty much,” you said.
danielle nodded. “and it keeps escalating.”
“exactly. he starts with his reputation—disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes. then he moves to talent, friends, opportunities. everything becomes proof that he’s failing somehow.”
hanni tapped the paper again. “okay, but then the ending happens and suddenly he’s fine. that’s a huge emotional jump.”
“it’s not really sudden,” you said. “it’s a shift.”
danielle leaned closer. “how?”
you pointed to the final couplet.
“the whole poem is built on comparison. he keeps measuring his life against everyone else’s and coming up short. but when he remembers the person he loves, that comparison stops mattering.”
“because love fixes everything?” hanni asked skeptically.
“no,” you said. “because it changes what counts as success.”
before she could respond, the classroom door in the back opened quietly.
footsteps crossed the room. they were light, steady, unhurried.
danielle turned toward the door and immediately lifted her hand. “haerin! over here.”
your head turned before you could stop yourself.
haerin stood near the end of the row, scanning the room until her eyes found danielle.
then they shifted.
to you.
the pause was brief, subtle enough that anyone else might have missed it, but it still stretched slightly longer than it should have.
you hadn’t expected to see her here.
not today. not in this classroom.
she walked toward your table while danielle scooted her chair aside to make room. “this is us,” she said casually.
haerin nodded in greeting and sat down.
hanni looked between the three of you with growing confusion. “wait. another non-english major?”
danielle blinked. “oh—right. this is haerin. she’s in dental medicine.”
hanni leaned back. “why are there so many medical students here.”
danielle hesitated as realization crossed her face.
“…oh.”
she looked at you.
“…did i forget to mention she might drop by?”
you stared at her.
“yes.”
danielle winced. “my bad.”
hanni snorted. “great. now the dentistry student gets to interpret shakespeare too.”
haerin glanced down at the paper. “what poem?”
“sonnet 29,” danielle said, sliding the page toward her.
haerin lowered her gaze and began reading. the classroom gradually settled back into its low murmur of conversations as other groups continued their discussions, but your attention kept drifting back to the slow movement of her eyes across the page.
after a minute, hanni tapped the paper again. “we’re arguing about the ending,” she explained. “apparently one person can magically fix this guy’s entire life.”
haerin looked up slightly. “which line?”
you turned the page so she could see the bottom.
your finger rested beside the final couplet.
her gaze followed it.
“…it’s not really fixing his life,” she said after a moment.
hanni tilted her head. “no?”
“nothing actually changes,” haerin continued quietly. “he still believes other people are more successful than him.”
you nodded slightly. “right. the poem never says his circumstances improve. the shift is entirely internal.”
haerin glanced toward you, then back at the page.
“remembering someone interrupts the comparison,” she said.
“exactly,” you added. “the entire poem is built on comparison—talent, status, friends, everything. the moment he remembers the person he loves, that comparison stops mattering as much.”
danielle tapped her pen thoughtfully. “so the poem reframes value.”
“yeah,” you said. “earlier he measures himself against other people. at the end he measures his life by something personal instead.”
hanni crossed her arms again, though this time she looked less skeptical. “so remembering someone makes him feel rich.”
“richer,” danielle corrected.
“and it’s not just romantic,” you added. “the word ‘remembered’ is important. it suggests that even the thought of that person changes his emotional state.”
hanni blinked. “…okay, i kind of get it now.”
danielle circled the final couplet with her pen. “perfect. that’s our presentation angle.”
she looked up at the three of you. “we explain the emotional spiral first, then the shift in the final lines.”
hanni groaned softly. “why does this actually make sense now.”
“because we explained it,” you said.
she pointed at you accusingly. “you’re the one making this complicated.”
“it’s literature.”
“exactly my point.”
danielle laughed under her breath before nudging the poem toward the center of the table again.
class presentations started soon after. professor wendy clapped her hands lightly to get everyone’s attention, and the room gradually quieted as students shifted in their chairs.
“who had sonnet twenty-nine?” she asked.
danielle raised her hand. “we did.”
“perfect. go ahead.”
the four of you stood, and the shift from casual discussion to speaking in front of the room made the moment feel strangely formal.
danielle began first, explaining the speaker’s isolation and the way the poem opens with feelings of disgrace and abandonment. you followed, describing how the middle stanzas build tension through constant comparison with others.
“the speaker keeps measuring himself against people who seem more successful or more fortunate,” you said. “each comparison reinforces the idea that he’s lacking something essential. that repetition is what creates the emotional spiral we see in the middle of the poem.”
you gestured lightly toward the final lines.
“but the structure of the sonnet prepares us for a shift. after spending most of the poem focused on what he doesn’t have, the speaker suddenly remembers someone he loves.”
haerin stepped forward next.
“the important part is that his circumstances don’t change,” she said. “he still believes other people are more talented or more successful. the world around him stays exactly the same.”
her fingers rested lightly against the page.
“what changes is how he measures his own life.”
she read the final couplet softly.
for thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings that then i scorn to change my state with kings.
when she looked up again, her gaze landed on you.
“remembering that person interrupts the comparison. it reminds him that his life already contains something valuable enough that he wouldn’t trade places with anyone else.”
the room stayed quiet for a moment before professor son smiled. “beautiful interpretation.”
after the brief applause faded and everyone returned to their seats, hanni leaned across the table toward you and danielle.
“…wow,” she said quietly.
danielle blinked. “what?”
hanni pointed between you and haerin. “that was the most intense presentation about a love poem i’ve ever witnessed.”
danielle followed her gaze between the two of you and hummed softly.
“…interesting.”
class ended soon after that, but when you stepped into the hallway a few minutes later, haerin was still standing near the doorway as if she had been waiting.
students began packing their bags while conversations spilled into the hallway outside. hanni slung her backpack over one shoulder and glanced at you. “we’re getting food. you coming?”
“in a bit,” you said. “i need to return this.”
“okay. text us.”
hanni lingered beside the desk for a moment before flashing you one last suspicious smile. “very interesting class today.”
you sighed. “go.”
she laughed and followed danielle out the door.
the classroom emptied quickly after that. when you finally looked up again, haerin was still standing near the doorway, her bag resting against one shoulder as if she had been waiting.
you stepped into the hallway.
“you weren’t supposed to be here today,” you said.
“danielle mentioned the class.”
“she didn’t mention it to us.”
“i noticed.”
you leaned lightly against the doorframe. “so you just decided to show up to an english literature class?”
“i had time.”
“you’re a dentistry student.”
“i like listening.”
“to poetry?”
her gaze settled on you.
“…sometimes.”
“besides, i have a 3 hour vacant after my last class and i didn't want to go back to my apartment so,” she continued.
you held her eyes for a moment longer than you meant to.
“you looked surprised earlier,” she said.
“i was.”
“why?”
you exhaled softly. “because i didn’t expect to see you sitting across from me while we were analyzing a love poem.”
“you see me all the time.”
“not like that.”
the words slipped out before you could soften them.
haerin studied your expression carefully.
“you understood the poem quickly,” she said.
“i’m supposed to. it’s literally my major.” you laughed. “and it’s not a difficult sonnet.”
“it is if you’ve never felt that way.”
you frowned slightly. “felt what way?”
she glanced down the hallway briefly before answering.
“like someone changes how you see everything.”
your chest tightened slightly.
“that’s a lot to put on one person,” you said.
“it’s not about responsibility.”
“then what is it about?”
she stepped a little closer.
“recognition.”
you didn’t look away.
“the speaker doesn’t suddenly become happier,” she continued quietly. “he just remembers that someone exists who makes the rest of it feel smaller.”
you swallowed. “and the other person?”
she blinked once. “what about them?”
“do they know?”
the question lingered between you.
her eyes searched yours for a moment.
“…maybe.”
you let out a quiet breath. “that’s vague.”
“poetry is vague.”
you huffed a small laugh. “so the whole sonnet is basically someone realizing they care about someone and wondering if the other person notices.”
haerin shook her head slightly.
“not if they notice.”
“then what?”
her voice dropped.
“wondering if they already do.”
for a moment neither of you moved.
then she adjusted the strap of her bag and started walking down the hallway.
“are you going to the library later?” she asked.
you fell into step beside her.
“maybe.”
a faint smile appeared on her face.
“…me too.”
you walked down the corridor together after that, not rushing and not speaking, your shoulders brushing once when the hallway narrowed near the stairs.
neither of you stepped away.
and somewhere in the back of your mind, the final lines of the poem echoed again.
for thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings that then i scorn to change my state with kings.
for the first time since reading them that morning, they didn’t feel distant.
they felt uncomfortably close to the truth.
