( 5 YEARS AFTER )
JIMIN LAY IN THE curtained cubical examining the polystyrene tiled ceiling. there was nothing else to look at. he could hear painful, muffled cries from an adjacent bed and that at least made him glad for the curtains, it meant he didn't have to engage with whoever it was, to show any sympathy he didn't feel.
a nurse hastily comes by, attaching new IV's, heart monitors and oxygen tanks to him. the room was plain, and was devoid of beauty as jimin was of hope. there was no decoration at all save the limp curtain; that could separate his bed from the other two in there. it was perhaps once the kind of green that reminds the people of springtime and hope, but its faded so much that the hue was insipid. the room had an undertone of bleach and was simply grey. at far end are windows in brown metal frames, only openable at the top.
there are stands for intravenous drips and monitors. at the door are dispensers for rubber gloves, hand sanitizer, and soap. these items only reinforce jimin's fear of germs. he finds himself wanting to gag. he shuffles a little, adjusting himself whilst there were several needles poking his skin.
his mind drifts back to their uncluttered home- everything pale with clean lines, elegant and calming. just as they liked. jimin softly smiles to himself. home, is where he can draw the blinds and pour his favourite spirit, listen to soft jazz and try to rap his boyfriend's music, and try to browse himself on google. here, he is a unit in an institution, a bed number, a problem to be fixed on the world's slowest moving assembly line. he lets his hand fall to the cotton sheets- clean, shift and functional. it's a place to lie and not a bed. 'bed' means soft sheets, lavender perfume- and especially waking up next to his kookie; it means somewhere he feels safe as a bear in his winter den, it means comfort and warmth.
this room as nothing of those things and so he mentally labels it a 'trolley' instead; after all it does have wheels and collapsible sides.
he doesn't know why it happens, but jimin gets all numb and then utter melancholic at the same time. he lay there quietly, fluttering his eyes closed, matching his breaths to the beeping of machines that surrounded the bed, the only indications of his heartbeat and his existence. his legs were numb.
slowly and painfully, he makes his way to the bathroom. staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, he is shocked. he looks okay, normal even. inside, the ache for him gnaws at the very heart that still beats endlessly for him. he pulls his lips into a smile, and shrieks out a frightened sob when he realises that anyone could easily mistake this lacklustre grin for real happiness. it amazes him to think; how can he look so ordinarily normal when he has crumbled inside?
meanwhile, seokjin barges through the navy double doors with their plastic bands fastened midway and their dull chrome handles. he pulls his eyes away from the highly polished linoleum floor to catch a glimpse of the hallway that stretches beyond, cut into tiny squares by the thin wire in the window panels.
without pause he pushes through with his body weight. a draft of air hits his face, warm and with a tincture of bleach. ahead of him lay plain, grey walls. instead of straight walls, the hallway has a curve. his eyes flickering desperately searching for that one ward. every few seconds he passes a different set of navy blue set of doors with a hand sanitizer or dispenser; to oncology, to geriatrics, to maternity. he by passes them all heading for psychiatry, because that's where his jiminie was.
he should've known. seokjin cusses himself. he should've fucking guessed it all the nights jimin didn't sleep. he used to compare the night with his own state of mind. he said he wanted jeongguk bear him. he wanted bangtan back again. just like the clouds, his insides were a chaos. jimin would say. but everyone would wave him off. he was a mess. something was hurting jimin. something ached inside him. seokjin could feel jimin's pain now. but now was too late.
he pushed open the room where jimin lay. he stood there frozen, seeing his abysmal state. his dongsaeng, his jiminie pabo, laying on the bed with several small cuts on his arms. he tried to escape from the trance slowly but realised how futile it was when he had to bite his lip from crying out. his head felt like spinning and his tongue felt too big for his mouth. he winced as he saw jimin's face- it was painful, it wracked his bones, searing, fiery bursts pulsated through his mind. it was as if, he could see the sight of blooded jimin on the floor- with each step he took towards jimin's bed, the pain amplified, jarring and brutal. he was so close to crying. fuck, he had to blink away the hot tears that threatened to spill down his face.
jimin pried open his swollen eyes yet again to meet a dismal view of a navy blue door. and right there, stupid his hyung. the one he needed the most right now. his hyung's eyes were bloodshot. as they both stared at each other in silence, the nurse came and instructed seokjin something.
he immediately knew the nurse had made sure to lock it on her way out to keep jimin in there, not them out. he slid his eyes sideways, short but deep cuts ran along his arms, beyond was his chart-
park jimin
status: unstable
admittance: 2:21 am
cause of admittance: danger to self
diagnosis: psychosis
reason: unknown.
