La Douleur Exquise || JJK✓

Awake.

Two days later, Jungkook's eyes opened. His mother screamed for the doctor and he came in running. The man in the white coat did a few tests, checking his pulse, shining light in his eyes and all that.

Jungkook didn't react to anything the doctor or his parents said to him. He was crying. He cried like a newly born babe, seeing the light of the day. Mrs Jeon's heart broke seeing her son crying so heart-wrenchingly.

The doctor concluded, it was the shock that had him howling, tears flowing like a stream, as if he was in physical pain. Sure he would need physiotherapy before he could walk like before, but he wasn't crying out of shock. His heart hurt. And his mother knew.

When he had calmed down enough an hour later, he drank the water his mother made him drink.

"Did she meet you before she left?" he asked his mother, unable to look into her eyes.

"Yes, I did," she answered, wiping a few tears away. "She told me she was going to be transferred to another hospital. She didn't tell me where, said she didn't want anyone to see her suffer in her last moments."

Fresh tears started trailing down the boy's blotched cheeks. He had never spoken a word to Yuri and yet he felt so much pain. He would never understand how that woman had managed to sneak into his heart so quickly but leave his life even quicker.

"I will find her," he told his mom. "She is my friend and I wouldn't leave her alone when she didn't leave me alone when I needed someone by my side."

Mrs Jeon smiled, running a hand through her beloved son's hair. "That's my boy."

He gave her a watery smile before it fell away. "What about Sara?"

The old lady scowled. "She's being blocked by security. She will create a scene if we let her in and I don't want that."

He nodded, knowing full well what her true face was. "Can you let her know she doesn't have to pretend anymore and I know about her other boyfriend?" Mrs Jeon nodded and left the room to let him rest.

He didn't feel tired though, so he looked around himself, noticing the small things around the room. His eyes fell on a small book, kept on the nightstand. Picking it up, he couldn't help but chuckle.

It was Emily Dickinson's poetry collection. Not the official one, just a cheap one. She left him a gift, a memory.

With shaky fingers, he opened the it, his finger tracing the name written in calligraphy at the top right corner of the first page. Yuri.

He brought the book upto his nose and the way it smelled of vanilla, he knew it was hers. With a smile, he continued flipping the pages, until he found something interesting in the pages.

It was a photo. He had no idea when she took it or got it printed but he was glad to have it.

There she was in the photo, squeezing his cheeks while his eyes stayed shut. A beautiful smile was painted over her pink lips as she looked into the camera.

He had a face to give to a voice now. A voice he knew, he'd always crave to listen.

Flipping the picture over, he found a message written in black.

I want you to send me off with a big grin on that handsome face of yours.
And don't forget to play Twenty One Pilot's Neon gravestones on my funeral.

Move onto someone else.
I will be happy to see that happen.