Chapter 17 | First Love, First loss

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"Fuck Jimin." Yoongi choked out, laying the smaller on a comfortable mattress, a floral patterned blanket accenting Jimin's skin tone nicely. He looked as if he were merely sleeping, a peaceful expression displayed with relaxed eyebrows and parted lips. His tiny hands were curled to his body, nearly hugging his frame carelessly.

He was just sleeping.

He had to be sleeping. Yoongi pulled his hands away from the younger's warm body, his hands shaking uncontrollably. His breathing was forced and irregular as he tried to calm the panic rising in him. He didn't know what to do, his eyes glued to Jimin's chest. He watched intently for any change in his breathing pattern, terrified it would start to slow.

"I don't know what to do." He cried softly, reaching for Jimin's hand. He felt a small sense of relief when the younger moved his finger the slightest fraction of an inch. It was enough for Yoongi.

"Wake up." He whispered, his grip on Jimin's hand trembling. "Please, Jimin. I need to know that you're okay." His voice cracked on the last word, tears spilling from his fluttering lashes. He lowered his head into his arms, squeezing the small source of warmth he held onto. He let out a strangled sob, feeling helpless.

He lifted his head suddenly, feeling rather idiotic. "I'll call the doctor, baby." He gasped, squeezing Jimin's hand once more before gently placing it on a yellow flower. "You'll be okay." He whispered, letting out a small laugh of relief. "It'll be okay." He moved frantically now, reaching for his phone with an urgency. He dialed the numbers engraved in his brain without hesitation.

"Hello?" He asked hurriedly, scared he was too late. He should have called right as he walked through the door. His stupidity could have hurt Jimin. He mentally scolded himself.

"Yes," He replied into the speaker, "I have an emergency. My friend here, I think he might. . . Um, be on drugs?" His voice shook with emotion. He was barely able to finish the sentence.

Did Jimin do this to himself? Could he be. . . Struggling? Yoongi shook the thoughts away and cleared his throat, quickly wiping away a stray tear.

Once he finished the call, he refused to leave Jimin's side, gripping the younger's hand until he saw angry red indents staring back at him. Ashamed, he loosened his grip, mentally apologizing to the younger. His tears had yet to cease, but he couldn't care less. He deserved to cry, his friend was hurt. His friend could be dying for all he knew. He wished Jimin could talk at the moment, answer Yoongi's many questions.

He couldn't do this to himself, could he? The thought scared Yoongi, sent a deep stab of fear to his chest. He didn't know how to deal with suicidal thoughts, they'd never been an issue for him. How could he help Jimin if he couldn't understand? His vision began to blur through the tears, his entire body trembling. He looked down to the peaceful boy, his empty gaze leaving the wall.

"I'll help Jimin." He whispered, then rethought his words. Could he actually be any help? "I-I'll try." He sighed, bringing his hand up to cup Jimin's face.

That's when things went terribly wrong.

Jimin's body started heaving, his head thrown back onto the bed. His eyes flashed open momentarily before rolling back into his head. Yoongi panicked.

"Jimin! Fuck--- Someone help!" He sobbed, running to the door of his small dorm. He flung open the door, sticking his head out the entrance. His eyes widened as he saw two health officers searching dorm numbers. "Over here! Please hurry!" He yelled, waving his arms in a panic. Both heads turned in sync and he bolted back to Jimin's side, confident the workers would follow.

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