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chap 21 - Help

Jimin opened his eyes slowly because it took him some effort to manage the feat. Though he was starting to come around he still felt a little heavy all over and something at the back of his mind seemed to hint that it might be the result of anaesthesia. Why he had been put under was something that he had yet to figure out whilst floating around in that horrible fogginess, but he was more than certain that he was in a hospital because the scent of antiseptic was too great to possibly mean he was anywhere else. It was strong enough for him to nearly taste it and he wondered if they cleaned everything with the substance including the beds. His eyelids flickered open and then closed again but after a second he got them to stay open and he stared up at the ceiling to see that it was in perfect condition, not like the hostel they had been staying in. Usually the ceilings in the hostels were stained from age and tobacco, yellowed in the corners with cracks in the plaster that made them seem hundreds of years of old rather than a decade or two. The one he was looking at currently was clean and crack-free, neat little tiles that ran in rows and reminded him of teeth for some reason: perfect little teeth that might have been straightened by braces so not a single one of them was kinked in anyway. Speaking of teeth he strangely couldn't feel his own and he couldn't help himself from prodding the tip of his tongue forward so that it poked against the backs of his front teeth. If he couldn't feel his teeth then he was mostly certain stoned on something, and the most obvious answer was indeed anaesthetic. After prodding his teeth a few times to make sure that they were still there he tried moving his tongue somewhere else but it was too dry and he didn't like the sensation at all. It felt like his tongue was made from carpet just like the hostel rooms, dusty and itchy carpet.

He felt along the bed with his other hand, the one that wasn't resting on top of his friend's, and felt the sheets rustling against his fingertips. Definitely lying in a bed. He felt like his upper half was elevated somewhat and he tried to ascertain if it was the result of pillows or if the bed was possibly raised, yet when he tried to wriggle and find out he felt too exhausted to do so. His eyelids might have opened and he might be able to move his fingers and wrists but he was most certainly out of action right now. No walking for him, that was a little out of his current abilities. What had happened to him? Jungkook had been hit by a car just a few days ago and-

Jungkook.

The thought of the boy was enough to cause a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach, a sudden clenching. Where was Jungkook right now? Why had he heard him shouting in his head just a few minutes ago? He knew that something had happened and yet whatever drugs had been pumped into his system was making it hard for him to figure it out. He had been shouting something...something about wrecks and car crashes, the Titanic... Who had he been shouting that at? Not him, he was certain of that much and he had a feeling that it was Taehyung. The boy had entered the room drunk just before the shouting...hadn't he? Just trying to figure it all out was making his head hurt and he would have let out a groan if he could move his stupid tongue. All he knew was that the clenching sensation had felt a little like fear and that meant one thing to him: he was scared by the thought of Jungkook. Why? He would probably have to ask Yoongi that particular question.

After staring at the ceiling for several minutes Jimin decided to attempt to turn his head. He managed a slight change of position but then he couldn't seem to move it anymore because there was something around his neck. Something thick and unyielding. Bandages? He couldn't reach up to feel them but that was what he thought it was. It was the only thing that made sense to him. But even with the slight change in position he could still see more than he had a moment ago, could make out the left side of the room that he was in. More white walls just like the ceiling, little windows that looked to be observation ones along the length of wall and an open doorway. He could see people moving down the corridor just outside, a flash of blue and white but nothing more discernible than that as they moved too quickly past the small gap. If the ceiling tiles were teeth then the doorway was like an eye, a rolling iris that wouldn't stop moving. Just past his friend he could see a few empty beds and he wondered if he was alone in this current room or if there was anyone to his right in another bed. The bed covers were a soft blue, the pillows and sheets white, and the curtains that could be pulled around matched the covers. Currently they were pulled all the way up at the top of the bed, bunched together to keep them in place and show that the beds were free. There was a considerable stack of pillows on each bed and he figured out that he was likely lying on a mountain of them too, so many that he didn't sink into their softness. They propped him up rather well however, so that was a bonus because he couldn't have possibly sat up the way he was feeling right now. He couldn't even move his tongue or lift an arm, sitting up would have been too hard and he would have been left lying and staring up at the ceiling tiles instead.