70: Pinky Promise

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You don't know what's happened to you.

You're suddenly burning up.

It comes abruptly, like a flash flood up your insides, or a bubbling witch's cauldron of heat.

Jungkook is awake.

Somehow, as you climb to your feet, you manage to knock Hoseok to the side so that he falls onto the bed.

He gapes at you while you throw yourself toward the y'all.

Somehow, as you march out the door, Yoongi ends up splattered against the wall to get out of your way.

He blinks at the aggression in your steps.

You storm down the hallway, footfalls heavy, arms swinging by your sides.

Like you're on a rampage.

Just like Jungkook stormed to your door all that time ago, to question why you'd been released from the White Room.

But this time, you're the angry bull.

Namjoon is by the door to Jungkook's room, his broken arm caught up in a sling and cast. He sees your ardent stride and moves out of the way.

You burst into Jungkook's room.

Beside the bed is Jin, leaned over a quiet figure whose upper chest is wrapped in bandages. Jin's hands are working on rewrapping another bandage on the person's left forearm.

You remember feeling that wound, and seeing the stark red of its blood on your fingertips.

Jin glances up when you stomp in, turning to the side to reveal the mummy-wrapped figure as the person you've been seeking.

Jungkook's laying there, tired and sallow, an IV in his arm. Dull black eyes look up at you from under dark, unwashed hair. His lips aren't as dark as normal; in fact, he's washed out, like the color has been erased from his skin so he's now a blank piece of paper. His tattoos are intense and overwhelming against his beaten-down persona.

But he's awake.

He's alive.

He tries to smile.

You start to yell at him.

"Stupid!" you shriek. Unbidden by your mind, your hand raises, finger pointing in condemnation at the man laying helpless before you. "You are such an idiot. How could you go and get shot?! Honestly, you are so..."

"Hey!" Jin puts himself in between you and stands with his feet braced, widening his shoulders to become a venerable fortress. "Quit yelling! How will he get better when you're screaming loud enough to burst his eardrums?"

You growl in frustration and curl your fingers into claws. You're shaking with the words you want to say.

"Y/N," Jungkook starts, but you slash a hand through the air to cut him off.

He can't talk right now - he has to listen.

You have so much to tell him.

All the fear that raged inside you while you stared at his crumpled figure, all the heartbreak that crushed you into fragments of sorrow when you thought he was dead.

He's has to listen, and feel what you felt, and know what's running underneath all the angry words, what's forcing them up and out of you with such vigor.

You love him.

But the words just won't come out that way.

However, even tough your attempts at communicating are pathetic at best, Jungkook still seems to get it.

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