Jungkook p.o.v
I'll never,
--
I can't even go to his funeral.
They say I don't have permission.
They say I can't leave the hospital.
For the fifth time this week, I locked myself in the bathroom.
I sat at the floor of the shower's cubicle, watching blood go as quickly as it came, underneath the water.
The blade sliced against my arms, so perfectly, so deliciously it cut through my skin,
easing the mental pain with the physical.
The scars were no longer scars; they were wounds.
I got out of the shower, hiding the blade underneath the sink once again.
I stopped going to Dr. Kim for therapy. There's no point.
The corresponding nurse whom had taken care of Hoseok came by to tell me he'd passed away because of cardiac arrest and excessive fluid in his lungs. I asked her for the surgeon's name whom had tried to save him, so I could go to him and beat the fucking life out of him, but she refused to tell.
But he was doing so well, his treatment strengthening him each day. So why?
I shouldn't even be asking that. People left in my life as much as they came.
If there are hellos, there are bound to be goodbyes.
It's been two and a half weeks since Jimin even glanced at me.
Hoseok died. Jimin doesn't want me.
There's no reason for me to stay here anymore.
》
When the clock clicked 3 AM, way past my curfew, it was time to leave.
But before I could swing my feet out the bed, the door knob turned and I immediately pretended to sleep.
What the fuck? Nurses never came to me around this time. Then again, I never stayed up longer than 1 AM.
My breath hitched when I peeked one eye open to see a battered Jimin, about to sit on a stool.
My breath stopped coming when I heard him say,
"Even today, you aren't getting nightmares." He chuckled to himself.
I dared myself not to open my eyes.
"You know, after Hoseok...passed away, Namjoon warned me. He said he noticed my change in behaviour, my forgetting o-of--"
He went silent. I wanted him to speak more, but he remained silent. Maybe he found out I was awa--
Quiet sobs rattled through my ears.
He was crying.
"I-I am sorry, Jungkook."
Why was he apologising?
My impulse was to shoot up and take him in my arms, sooth away his cries and wipe away his tears, but his phone beeped, reminding him of the few minutes he had left until the start of his shift again.
I peeked one eye open to see him wiping his tears away and smoothing the crumpled lab coat of his.
He still looked beautiful without his perfect stance.
I closed my eyes and held in my breath until I heard the door click close.
My throat closed up and my chest felt so tight.
