➵ jimin
when i got the call, it was an unusually humid day. the hot temperatures made it even harder to sleep in the stuffy house, since the air conditioning was old and sometimes quit when it worked too hard. but it wasn't like i had been sleeping anyway.
i hadn't gotten more than two, three hours of sleep at night since yoongi died. it had been a full three weeks. jihyun had gone back home, reluctantly, since he didn't want to leave me alone to wallow in self pity. but i knew if i kept him here, our parents would surely suspect something and he'd never be able to return.
for the last few weeks, every night i laid in my bed and stared at the ceiling. thinking about yoongi. thinking about love. thinking about the fact that i loved yoongi and now he was dead.
i also realized that once you're in love with someone, it's hard to remember how you lived without them.
i hadn't lost many people i loved in my lifetime, just my grandpa and aunt. i faintly remembered their funerals, back home in busan. i had cried, definitely, but the grief afterwards wasn't that painful because i didn't really know either of them that well. yoongi, on the other hand, was my best friend, and had been the only person i could really wholeheartedly trust and talk to. now he was gone, and the hole in my heart felt like it could never be filled.
when my phone rang, i jumped so high i nearly fell off the couch. who the hell was calling me at 9:37 a.m. on a november morning? i was sure i only had about five or six actual contacts in his phone, being yoongi, jungkook, my mother, jihyun, namjoon, and jin.
"hello?" i finally answered.
"hello, this is reception at seoul city hospital. we ju-" a cheery woman answered, but when i heard 'hospital', i cut her off.
"are you calling about yoongi? is there more forms i need to fill out or something?" i said, annoyed.
but the woman's reply shook me from my core. when she spoke, i dropped the phone, which thankfully fell on the carpet and didn't break, and let out a choked sob, followed by a huge gasp of air.
"actually, i have some good news for you. min yoongi isn't dead."
***
could this be? no, i had watched as the doctors took yoongi off life support. i had heard them state the time of his death. the nurse was definitely screwing with me. i picked the phone back up and took a shaky breath.
"h-how? i watched him... die."
"it's a miracle, hun. i'm not sure really what happened, but i know for sure he's not dead." the woman said. honestly, i wasn't even listening to her anymore, because my brain was busy processing the fact that yoongi was not dead. min yoongi, the absolute tragic love of my life, was not dead.
yoongi was alive.
i needed to see him, now.
"sorry, ma'am, could you tell me when visiting hours are?" not like that really mattered, anyway. i would have broken in, if i had to, to see yoongi.
"twelve to three today, hun." i wished she'd stop calling me 'hun'. it made me uncomfortable. i quickly mumbled a 'thank-you' and hung up, throwing the phone onto the couch. i ran to his room and changed into a clean, or mostly clean t-shirt and jeans.
i pulled on my slightly dirty white converse, grabbed his phone and wallet from the table, and headed out the door. it was currently 11:49, meaning that if i walked at a normal pace, i would reach the hospital before 12. i wanted the full three hours to see yoongi. i melted into the small groups of people, picking up a brisk pace to keep up with the crowd. seoul pedestrian traffic during the week was horrible. everyone moved either too slow or too fast to keep up with.
