Chapter Text
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Two days later the reporters are still lingering around the entrances of the hospital. Not even the backyard is safe from them; they swarm the place like a bunch of flies. Yoongi stands at the window and peeks down at them through the shutters, careful to not be seen. The swelling of his eye has gone down some and he’s able to see clearly again – things were awfully blurry at first. He doesn’t even try to hide the distain on his face. They didn’t care about them before and in all honesty, they don’t care about them now. They just want to get a good story out of them, out of their pain. He hates it.
“Yoongi, come on, ignore them. Get back to bed!” The voice is too soft, too endearing with that little characteristic lilt to it, to be actually chiding. Yoongi still obeys immediately and turns away from the window. The hospital room is relatively big, with two hospital beds currently pushed together (which is kind of against protocol, but they kept insisting until their nurses relented in the end) at one side of the wall, the windows to the left and two doors – one leading outside and the other to a small toilet and bathroom with shower – to the right.
Yoongi’s bed is empty. The other one is currently occupied.
Jimin is looking over at Yoongi, the book he has been reading resting in his lap. His gaze is unreadable at first, but then he softens and gives the older man a small smile, petting the empty bed beside him in invitation. Yoongi studies him for a moment. He looks tired and way too thin. His pyjama shirt is open, offering a view of the bandages wrapped around his upper body. There are bruises and cuts all over him – especially around his temple curtesy to the blow with the gun, his eye is still patched – the contrast is stark against his sickly pale skin. He truly does look worse for wear.
But at least he’s alive. At least he’s gonna get better, gain back his strength and make a full recovery. It’s way more than Yoongi had hoped for just mere days ago.
During that fateful night… The gunshot still rings in Yoongi’s ears sometimes, loud, persistent… People shouting and grabbing him and forcing him to the ground… holding him down… Then- He doesn’t remember how he got free, how he moved, but… Jimin’s body in his arms, unmoving, heavy, head lolling and eyes closed… so cold, so silent, bloody all over…
In that very moment Jimin had been dead to him. Yoongi was panicked and hurt and disoriented with his swollen eye, delirious from his own injuries – he didn’t know any better. He neither had the clear head nor was he in the condition to look if Jimin was still breathing or to search for a pulse. He was helpless and he was scared.
For one endless minute, Yoongi had lived in a world where Park Jimin was gone. Then somebody had knelt beside them, had reached for Jimin’s wrist with gentle hands and had singlehandedly, in the blink of a moment, saved Yoongi a second time that night with the mumbled words: “He’s alive, thank god!”
The next thing Yoongi remembers is riding in an ambulance with Jimin, clutching his lifeless hand in his own and just praying to any god there might be to let them be alright. He hadn’t prayed since he was a little child. Jimin had to get surgery right away, one broken rip had pierced his lung and the blow to the head had caused a retinal detachment. Yoongi was… distraught, to say the least. But it had gone well. Despite everything, it had gone well.
And now they are here and Jimin is pale and weak and bandaged all over, but still- Jimin is here. He is here. And he won’t go anywhere.
Yoongi follows his invitation and gets in his bed, moving until he’s resting against the headboard. He opens his arms and Jimin follows readily, crawling over carefully to snuggle into his side. He leans up – Yoongi doesn’t miss his small groan of pain but doesn’t comment on it – to exchange a loving kiss with him, then makes himself comfortable and picks his book back up again.
They spend a long time like this with Jimin reading and Yoongi content to just hold him in his arms, sometimes reading along, sometimes just closing his eyes and relishing in the moment – both just happy to enjoy some peace and quiet together. Those silent, peaceful moments are rare – they barely had them in the house, with their impending dooms of having to fight to the death against each other looming over their heads, and they barely have them now, with all the police interviews they have to do, doctors coming in for check-ups and the nosy press lurking outside the hospital.
Both Jimin and Yoongi can’t wait for things to quiet down – they’ve had enough action for a lifetime.
Yoongi must have been dozing off at some point, because a knock at the door has him flinching violently, his heart leaping inside his chest. Jimin gives him a sad smile and simply strokes his hand until he has calmed down, before telling the unexpected guest to come in. He lifts Yoongi’s hand to brush a kiss against his knuckles and Yoongi gives a kiss of his own to the top of his head, breathing a heartfelt “Thank you” between his black locks. Jimin giggles quietly, pleased.
The door opens a little and a somewhat familiar face appears. The young man hovers a little, seemingly unsure if it really is okay to come in.
“I’m sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but I- I couldn’t help it anymore, I needed to see if you two were doing alright… I mean- Somewhat alright? Given the circumstances,” he explains himself, stumbling over his words a little. Jimin’s face lights up and he winks the man inside.
“Don’t worry, Officer Jung, it’s alright! Right, Yoongi?” he reassures and Yoongi nods.
He remembers the first night they got here. How they wheeled Jimin away on his stretcher as soon as they arrived and Yoongi had to wait in his room, confused and alone, and nobody could tell him what was happening to the love of his life. How he was sitting in this very room by himself, distraught and helpless, bawling his eyes out. Then somebody had knocked on the door and the very man that had saved them had popped his head in and he had come straight into the room, sat at the edge of Yoongi’s bed and offered a hug without asking any questions. He was wearing a police uniform. He introduced himself as “Officer Jung Hoseok”.
It had clicked right away. The third week. The police woman undercover that had taken her own life to save Yoongi’s… Her partner’s name… was Jung Hoseok…
Yoongi had broken down into stammered apologies immediately, the guilt gnawing away at him like an insatiable bug bedded into his ribcage and Hoseok had just smiled somewhat sad and sympathetic and had held him even tighter, whispering “It’s not your fault” and “It’s okay” all over again.
So yeah. Hoseok will always be welcome no matter the time or circumstances as far as Yoongi is concerned and he knows Jimin is feeling the same way.
“Come on, have a seat!” he says and Hoseok complies, taking one of the nearby plastic chairs reserved for visitors to sit down by their bedside.
“So,” Hoseok starts, looking from Jimin to Yoongi and back to Jimin again, “how are you doing?” Jimin shrugs and promptly winces, placing a hand over his battered and bandaged rips.
“Same old, same old – still recovering, still sore, still trying to cope… but we are alive and we have each other, so it could be worse!” he says, reaching for Yoongi’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Yoongi smiles and brushes a thumb over his bruised knuckles. Hoseok watches them and an expression washes over his face, something a bit like sorrow and a lot like regret.
“I know I’ve told you this a lot over the past few days, but a few more times won’t hurt. I’m sorry. I wish we could’ve done more. If only… If only we had gotten to you sooner…” He is looking mostly at Yoongi as he talks, because Yoongi had been at the mercy of those monsters way longer, and Yoongi had had to kill people to stay alive. He feels responsible and guilty. He had been powerless. Not even his partner’s death – watching on the big screen in their stationhouse how she removed the safety of her own gun and put it to her own temple and pulled the trigger with a sad smile and the hushed words ‘Get them, Hobi’ – had changed how powerless he had been. Hoseok had tried everything, but he couldn’t find those people or the location of these sick ‘games’.
Not until a boy named Park Jimin had been introduced to The Games. Not until two days after that, two men – almost boys, really, around the same as Jimin – had come into the station, dishevelled and nervous, one of them clutching an old laptop to his chest. It had been a coincidence that Hoseok was present in the main hall, getting himself another coffee, as the two tried to get past the reception desk. One of them had black hair and innocently roundish, big brown eyes and the other one had unruly, auburn locks, his facial features so striking, Hoseok had stopped to stare at them for a moment.
“I’m Jeon Jungkook and this is Kim Taehyung,” the black-haired boy was saying.
“We have important information about the Death Games. Our friend Jimin- Park Jimin- the one who’s part of the Games now- he disappeared a few weeks ago and we have been searching for him ever since. Taehyung is very good with computers and we- we think… we think Tae found something,” he continued while pointing at his friend with the laptop. There was a desperate edge to his voice now, almost pleading – he could tell from the look on the officer’s face that he didn’t believe them.
But Hoseok though. Hoseok had been listening in and he had been so desperate at this point, he had decided on a whim that he was willing to give it a shot.
He had called out to the two boys, asking them to follow him – to show him what they had found – and the rest… The rest was history.
The sober truth is that – despite the police department’s best efforts – two teenagers had been able to do what countless others before them had failed at. They had found the location of the Games, had managed to track some kind of signal others had missed.
The sober truth is that Taehyung and Jungkook had saved Yoongi’s and Jimin’s life. It’s as simple as that.
Yoongi dissolves all his guilt and dark thoughts with a sunny smile and a shrug of his shoulders.
“I told you before, Officer Jung, and I’ll tell you again as often as you need to hear it: It’s okay. It’s not your fault. You did enough. Jimin and I are here right now because of you, because of the part you played in our rescue.”
He had been the one who had shot the monster that had wanted to kill Jimin. He had been the one who had felt for Jimin’s pulse and made sure he got on an ambulance right away and he had been the one seeking out Yoongi as soon as possible to comfort him. He had been the one to hold Yoongi together when he was about ready to finally break and his whispered “It’s not your fault” and “It’s okay” still come to him at night to save him from one or another nightmare.
Hoseok gives them a tired but genuine smile and nods.
“Well… If you of all people feel like that… I’ll try to take your words to heart. I’m glad you are doing alright! Now I don’t want to bother you two any longer, it’s pretty late. I’m going to make sure that security is tight for tonight and no reporters can sneak in and then I’ll head home… You two rest up, I’ll stop by again tomorrow!”
He waves good-bye and Jimin and Yoongi wish him a goodnight, then he leaves the two of them alone once more.
Jimin snuggles up to Yoongi, trying to find a comfortable position despite all his injuries and sore spots.
“Jungkook and Taehyung are going to visit us tomorrow as well!” he says, body practically vibrating with excitement. He hasn’t seen them in weeks, not since his father had sold him off like he was nothing more than kettle, and he couldn’t wait to reunite with his friends.
Yoongi chuckles and brushes some of his black locks out of his face to press a quick kiss to his forehead.
“I’m happy for you, baby. I know you miss them.”
“I do. I can’t wait to introduce them to you… and vice versa,” Jimin answers. He thinks a little and then a small, mischievous glint flashes in his dark eyes.
“Who would have thought that the only good thing about the Games is that I actually got a boyfriend out of it.”
“Well, it’s the least we deserve after all the trauma and near-death experiences,” Yoongi shoots back and reaches under Jimin’s chin to gently turn his head towards him.
“We deserve happiness. We deserve love. And we deserve to do this-” he closes the distance between them to press a rather deep kiss to Jimin’s eager mouth- “whenever and wherever we want to, social etiquette be damned.”
All their kisses have been chaste so far, quick but searing, with the impending doom of certain death or the bone-crushing adrenalin rush of the aftermath hanging over their heads.
This is… new. To share kisses while having all the time in the world for it. To share kisses for the simple fact that they want to. No kisses of desperate reassurance or kisses of goodbye, no kisses laced with fear and worry, no kisses bitter with the taste of tears or blood.
Just kisses of love and desire, kisses of lust.
It’s nice. Addicting even. Yoongi could get used to it – he can’t wait to get used to it. He nibbles at Jimin’s bottom lip teasingly and Jimin breaks the kiss with a giggle. He snaps at Yoongi’s nose playfully with his teeth before giving it a cute peck in silent apology. He yawns and Yoongi coos.
The mood has shifted from something heady and sensual to something way more light-hearted and innocent once again, but Yoongi doesn’t mind. They have the time to take things as slowly as they want to.
The thought alone brings happy tears to Yoongi’s eyes. They have the time. They have time. Oh, how wonderful that is, how lucky they are!
Somewhere at the back of his mind Yoongi is vaguely aware that it’s not going to be smooth sailing from here on out. Fragments of ideas dance at the edge of his thoughts, something about horrible nightmares and trauma and dealing with the public and Jimin’s father and Yoongi’s guilt, something about good days and bad days and depression and setbacks and seeking help and receiving it and pushing through and moving on.
Yoongi forces those thoughts away for now. He is not scared. He looks down at the young man in his arms on the verge of dozing off, his skin ashen and bruises blooming black and blue, and hugs him a little tighter to brush his lips against his temple. Jimin gives a happy little sigh and melts even further into his arms.
No, Yoongi is not scared. Because no matter what the future holds for them, no matter how bad things are going to get – they will have each other. They won’t be alone. They will give each other strength.
And with that reassuring thought Yoongi closes his eyes as well, aware of the warm body in his arms, of the heartbeat – strong and steady – syncing with his own, and he is ready to go to sleep feeling… for the first time in a very long time… simply, truly content – at peace.