(JIKOOK) Texting Story Snippets

Different

"Same patient?"

Jimin snaps his eyes up from his phone, half smiling lips settling agape as he finds himself under the quizzical stare of a familiar front desk lady. He pulls his lips back into a polite smile and gives her a nod. "Same patient."

With a moment of silence falling over the two, her nails clacking words on the keyboard to shoo away the sure deafening ring of it, she sneaks a glance at the young man standing awkwardly on the other side of the counter. He seems kind and genuine, quite the contrast of the other young man who must be his friend. She clenches her jaw at the thought of him. "It's going to be room 317, third floor." This time, unlike the last encounter she'd had with him, she smiles fondly after instructions, even offering a polite nod. "Visitation ends at nine. And, please, tell your friend that he is not on the list of allowed visitors."

The smile on his lips falters, eyebrows raised, interest piqued. Jimin pockets his phone and retraces the handful of steps he'd taken away from the front desk already. "My friend?"

An audible sigh accompanies a slow blink. She's a bit frustrated and a bit embarrassed at the thought of misinterpreting a situation. "I apologize if I'm wrong, but don't you have a friend that works with the man you're visiting?" She's scoffs at her own description of him. "He's very persistent, that one."

The confusion of yesterday, the front desk lady's blatant annoyance at his existence, begins to make sense. She was tacking him as Yejoon's friend, something he absolutely was not. "He isn't my friend." Jimin says with a bit of a bite. How annoying that he considers himself deserving enough to continue insisting on visitation rights after constant denial. "Call security on him next time. That man is a stalker." He flashes her a reassuring smile and turns away towards the elevator, not before catching the perfect blend of bewilderment and amusement on her face.

He's awake this time. The words clatter around the recesses of his mind, thoughts unorganized and distorted. A face to face conversation with Jungkook for the first time in years is at the top of the elevator and a short walk down a hallway and a thin layer of perspiration is already beginning to make him feel dizzy. Jimin shuffles through the metal doors and presses for floor three. He clutches his phone in both of his hands, closing his eyes when the box shivers awake and begins ascending. Ding. The elevator announces the arrival to the third floor and it takes a couple of words or affirmation for Jimin to move his feet enough to exit.

You're strong, you're independent, you're kind. Jimin chants the words like a mantra.

It's for closure. Nothing else.

He's gonna convince himself of this and lock his emotions behind steel bars. He's going to cross his arms when he enters the room, make eye contact with Jungkook, and tell him that there's nothing more to this visit than a means of moving on from whatever they used to have. He'll shut it down before Jungkook's hopes get too high, doing him a favor in the long run. No friendship. No mercy.

Jimin squares his shoulders back before taking a couple of steps out of the elevator. The hallways are bustling with on duty nurses that seem too busy to greet him. It's fine anyway, he remembers every step he took the day before and retracing them back to Jungkook is easy. Easier than it ever should be. Leaving him behind for good isn't going to be the same, especially after he's given him so much false hope already.

Especially after he's given himself so much false hope.

The hospital corridor seems longer than it was yesterday, his footsteps heavier. Jimin hugs his arms around himself as the chill of the tiles below begin to seep into his skin. 317. Numbers have never sounded so damn loud in his head. Fingers touch metal, the clank of the door handle the only company for the sound of his own shallow breaths. He lifts his shoulders once again, spine straight, eyes narrowed as the door swings open just enough for him to step inside, right into view of the bundled up mass in the center of his hospital bed.