Chapter Text
Yoongi woke to the sound of distant chatter and the smell of… was that pizza? Either he was dead or he’d been transferred back to the main unit amidst one of the group cooking activities. He wasn’t sure which was more likely at this point. He lost sight of it as he reached up to rub his eyes. His body hurt. But it was different than before. It wasn’t just his ribs anymore, it was his arms, his legs, his neck, anything he tried to move. That being-hit-by-a-bus feeling hadn’t passed, this had just been added to it. He let his head fall to the side, trying to get his bearings as he opened his eyes, taking in the room around him.
Well, he wasn’t dead. His neck protested as he glanced around. He could see a dark strand of his hair in his periphery- he really needed a haircut. The more he strained to look around the room, the more his eyes hurt. He could feel tears forming in them, and with them came the runny nose. Was he getting sick? Or was this… Shit.
“Hey.”
His neck ached as he twisted his head around. He felt his face twist in pain, teary eyes clenching as he spotted the dark haired boy next to him. Dammit, why now?
“Hi,” he muttered, sniffling and bringing his hand to his face to wipe at his nose.
“You’ve been asleep for a long time,” Jungkook said. Yoongi looked up again to see him pull his arms tighter around himself. Was he cold? Was it cold? He felt warm.
“‘m tired,” Yoongi said, letting his head roll back to a neutral position. Shit his neck hurt. “Can you like,” he began, feeling exhausted just speaking, “move over here where I can see you?”
He closed his eyes again, but he heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. When he opened them again, Jungkook was in his line of sight, right near his face. “How long have you been sitting there?”
Jungkook shrugged. His shoulders were hunched, but he didn’t look tired. If anything he looked… scared. “The nurses said to call them when you woke up.”
“Great,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Can you give me a couple of minutes before you do?”
“Sure,” Jungkook said. “Does your head hurt?”
“Oddly enough, no. Everything else does, though.” He sniffled again. He wished he had a tissue. Of course he was too stubborn to ask. And why were his eyes still watering?
“Are you crying?”
“No!” He said, louder than necessary. “My eyes are just being dumb. Allergies maybe.”
And then Jungkook did something completely unexpected. He didn’t say anything, but he smirked. The little brat actually smirked. He reached his hand up to wipe at his right eye before even thinking of it, causing Jungkook to chuckle. “Shut up,” he spat, but he was so tired it hardly sounded intimidating.
He sighed, giving up. His eyes just kept watering, and the IV line and oxygen probe on his left hand kept him from rubbing at that eye. He couldn’t reach with his right hand; his body was just too sore.
As if Jungkook hadn’t surprised him enough for one day, he reached for Yoongi and gently brushed the tears from beneath his left eye. Yoongi shot him an expression that he hoped said ‘do you want to die?’ But the way Jungkook smiled at him said that he hadn’t quite accomplished that.
“Did I say you could touch me?” Yoongi said, his voice still pathetically weak.
“Hyung, come on,” Jungkook said, brushing the stray lock of hair out of his face, “it feels nice. Shut up and take it.”
Yoongi huffed. “Brat,” he muttered. Where was this audacity coming from? Yesterday (was it yesterday? He really had no idea how long he’d been sleeping) he was huddled in a ball in the corner of Yoongi’s ICU room, and now he was petting him like they were best friends? Even after Yoongi had shut his friendship offering down. But, Jungkook might have been, just the tiniest bit right. As the younger boy continued to stroke his hair, he realized it did feel nice. It was soothing, like Jungkook’s fingers were physically pushing the anxiety away from him. The sigh that left him was completely involuntary, and he didn’t need to open his eyes to see that Jungkook was smiling at him.
“Welcome back, Yoongi-ssi.”
Any tension that had been relieved in the previous moment raced back to him as he found himself face to face with a nurse.
“I’m Rea, your nurse today. How are you feeling?”
Yoongi bit his tongue, a nasty retort forming in the back of his throat. Jungkook’s hand had fallen back to his lap, and he was forced to turn his sore neck so he was looking the nurse in the eye.
“Tired,” he finally said, yawning as he forced himself into a neutral tone. He wasn’t familiar with this nurse so despite his overall feelings with the nurses on this unit, he talked himself out of starting off on the wrong foot.
“Do you mind if I get your vital signs and check you over?” The nurse asked.
“Go for it,” Yoongi replied, folding his hands together on his chest. He watched as the nurse eyed Jungkook. “He can stay,” Yoongi said. “Unless you’re going to ask me if I want to kill myself. In that case, I’d rather keep Jungkook guessing.” He wished he could see Jungkook’s face. He thought it was funny, but maybe Jungkook hadn’t. He probably didn’t.
She blinked rapidly as though caught off guard. “No, just a quick assessment.”
“Go ahead then,” Yoongi said, trying to keep as much sass out of his voice. He couldn’t help it. He had an attitude. He’d been told many times. Or rather, he ‘didn’t play well with others,’ as his close friend has told him.
“Can you lift your arm for me?”
He did, feeling the blood pressure cuff encircling his bicep. The sound of the machine clicked to life and the familiar buzzing of the cuff inflating blocked out the sound of the chatter around him. Her stethoscope came next and she pressed it to his chest beneath his gown. It was cool on his skin, and he took breaths as instructed, struggling with the pain to inhale deeply.
“Where are you feeling pain? Do you feel it in the fracture sites? Or in your muscles?”
“Both,” he replied, feeling out of breath.
“Ok, take some slower breaths,” she said, folding the stethoscope away into her pocket.
The cuff continued to squeeze his arm, only adding to the pain he already felt. He’d had his blood pressure taken perhaps a hundred times, but for some reason it hurt worse right now. He kept his mouth shut, refusing to display his pain, but he involuntarily bit his lip. Finally the thing stopped, released the air and he felt himself breathe out in relief. Ok, so that was weird. Was he like… hypersensitive to pain right now?
The nurse took his temperature and printed the results from the vitals machine. “Are you sweating?” She asked.
“I don’t think so, but I feel warm,” he said. It went against his pride to be honest, but why lie? He knew better than most that lying in these situations wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Besides, he knew what she was looking for, and he knew it was in his best interest to tell the truth.
“Are you feeling pain in your joints or muscles?”
“Yes,” he said. He thought he saw Jungkook shift beside him. Maybe he shouldn’t have let him stay.
“Everywhere? Or somewhere specific?”
“Everywhere,” he confirmed.
“Can you hold out your hands for me?” He did, and watched as both started to tremble. “Thank you,” she said, allowing him to drop his hands.
“Runny nose or teary eyes?”
“Yes,” Yoongi said, “both.”
“I’ll bring you some tissues,” she said. “How’s your stomach? Any nausea since you woke up?”
“No.”
“Are you feeling anxious?”
Was he? Sort of? But it had disappeared when Jungkook had started stroking his hair. He wasn’t sure. “I’m not sure. Maybe?”
“Do you feel restless?”
“Kind of, but everything hurts so I don’t want to move.” But even as he said it, he was feeling more anxious, more restless, more achy. He felt grumpy, but that was normal given everything else he was feeling, right?
“Itchy?” She asked. He realized he was scratching at his arm. Was he? He tried to determine if there was an itch, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. He pulled his hand away and stared at the reddened skin.
“I don’t… know.”
“Any other symptoms you think I should know about?” She asked, glancing at his IV bag and checking the pump.
He thought about it, but all he could feel was the aching. Every time he moved it hurt, but even if he wasn’t moving, it still hurt. Was that what restless was supposed to feel like?
“I’ll be back,” the nurse announced, stepping away.
“Are you ok?” Jungkook asked. Yoongi finally looked back at him, noting the concern heavy on his brow.
“Withdrawal is kicking in,” Yoongi said.
A look of impending doom found its way across Jungkook’s face, and Yoongi almost regretted telling him. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it from the questions the nurse had asked, but then he’d probably never experienced withdrawal before outside of being in the same room as Yoongi. He couldn’t remember explicitly, but he was fairly certain he’d used Jungkook as an outlet for his agitation at least once during their time together on this unit.
Was that why they’d never coexisted together? Jungkook experienced psychosis while Yoongi was going through withdrawal; that wasn’t a likely friendship even on the best of days. So where were they going from here? Yoongi wondered as a particular painful pulse shot up his right arm. He threw his head back involuntarily into the pillow, wincing hard against the pain.
“Hyung?”
“Hurts,” he said through gritted teeth, fists clenching in the sheets as the pain continued to wrack his arm. It worked its way into his shoulder and he grabbed at it, digging his nails into the skin, anything to stop the pain.
“Nurse!” Jungkook’s voice sounded frantic as he cried out for the nurse. Yoongi wanted to tell him to relax, that it was just pain, but his body wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t speak. His shoulders were tense with pain, but his mind was distracted. Jungkook was freaking out and he wanted to fix it. Blindly, he reached out with his right hand, somehow reaching his target, and clenched Jungkook’s hand tight. He knew it wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but enough to communicate. Jungkook squeezed back, his other hand landing on Yoongi’s shoulder.
His breathing was fast, but he held tight to Jungkook’s hand like it was a lifeline, keeping him grounded. The voices seemed to fade out, like he was being plunged underwater. He gasped for air, but everything seemed to grow quiet around him. Was he dying? He felt like he’d been here a number of times lately, somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, life and death, some kind of lucid world outside of his own, but just close enough to still grasp it. The only thing he could feel was Jungkook’s hand, warm and tight in his own, his grip equally as strong as Yoongi’s, if not stronger.
As long as he could hold on, he’d be ok. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he hadn’t felt so sure of anything in a long time.
His will to hold on had become literal.
When Yoongi came to, it was quiet around him. The world was quiet, but there was a storm raging inside of his body. He could feel it now. The pain was still there, but his mind was clear enough to see it. Like he could examine every part of his body and feel the weight of each limb. But there was something familiar still there. His right hand… it was still tensed. It hurt a bit and felt sweaty, but he felt no desire to let go.
He opened his eyes and his suspicions were confirmed. Jungkook was there, hand still grasped with his. But his heart fell when he got a better look at Jungkook. His eyes were puffy and red, clear evidence that he’d been crying.
“What happened?” Were the first words out of his mouth. His throat was dry and his voice escaped sounding hoarse.
“Hyung,” Jungkook said. He sounded absolutely broken. He didn’t even try to hide his distress.
Yoongi was wide awake, his own pain forgotten. What had happened? Who had hurt Jungkook? He moved to sit when he realized it. His arms refused to move. He’d been restrained. Four-point soft restraints held all four of his limbs down. But still, Jungkook’s hand was clenched in his. Ok, so that was his predicament, but it didn’t explain why Jungkook was so upset. He tried to lean on his elbows, but his arms protested. His neck screamed in pain as he looked around, trying to figure out what happened. But there was nothing. It didn’t make sense. They were however, back in the room the two of them shared with the other two boys.
He looked back at Jungkook, but he only dropped his eyes to Yoongi’s hand, now grasped in both his own.
“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked, stumped.
“You w-were,” he choked on a sob. “You… they…” but he seemed unable to say it.
“Jungkook, talk to me,” he said, his breathing getting heavier, anxiety taking him again.
“You were… clawing at yourself so they… they tied you up and-” He was shaking his head as he spoke.
“Wait, are you upset because- because of this?” He held his wrist up as best he could.
Jungkook swallowed hard and nodded once.
Yoongi breathed a sigh of relief. So no one had hurt him. He was just upset about what he had seen Yoongi go through.
“Don’t cry,” he said quietly, squeezing Jungkook’s hand. Jungkook looked up, as though shocked that Yoongi still had the power to utilize his muscles. “Don’t worry.”
“It’s - it’s better this way,” Yoongi said, watching Jungkook’s face fall into complete and raw confusion.
What the hell had happened? He was fairly certain that Jungkook had hated him two (he still didn’t know how many days it had been, really) days ago, and now here he was, holding his hand and crying over the treatment he’d seen Yoongi put through. Had he maybe come to some of the conclusions that Yoongi had? That neither of them were responsible for their actions that were a result of their sickness? But the thought triggered something in him. To the rest of the world, they were responsible for their actions no matter what. It was what brought him, and probably Jungkook, here. Maybe that was why they got along now? Because they both understood the other.
A particularly fierce twitch of his arm jerked Yoongi back to reality. Had he not been restrained, he wasn’t sure how far his arm would have flung.
“What do you mean?” Jungkook finally asked, pulling one hand away from Yoongi’s to wipe his eyes, but keeping the hand other locked in a death grip.
“I… I can’t control myself, really. My muscles are spastic and they hurt. If I’m restrained then I- I can’t hurt you.” There, he said it.
“You wouldn’t,” Jungkook said, shaking his head. “There’s no way.”
“Not intentionally, but I can’t contr-” Jungkook cut him off again, shaking his head harder this time.
“You wouldn’t!” He was breathing hard, obviously upset.
“Jungkook,” Yoongi said firmly, trying to make eye contact with him, but he was panicking, eyes clenched tight, still shaking his head. Yoongi squeezed Jungkook’s hand harder, but he had no strength in his joints.
As if the timing couldn’t be better, someone entered the room. Yoongi wrenched his head to the side, eyes meeting with the brunette’s, Taehyung’s. He was pushing the other boy in the wheelchair into the room. At least he thought it was the same boy. He still had the broken leg, but his hair was pink now.
“Hey!” Yoongi yelled. Taehyung stopped dead in his tracks. “He’s having a panic attack, come here!”
He didn’t need to ask twice. The boy in the wheelchair looked like he was ready to explode out of it and lunge forward, whether at Jungkook or at Yoongi, Yoongi wasn’t sure.
“Tae, go!” Taehyung pushed him closer, any signs of nervousness completely gone.
“Kook,” the pink haired boy cried. Taehyung pushed him close enough that the boy in the chair could reach, and he wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders.
“What happened?” Taehyung asked Yoongi.
“I just woke up, he’s been here with me since… earlier. We were talking and then…”
“It’s the restraints,” the pink haired boy informed him.
“Jimin?” Taehyung asked. Jimin, that was his name.
“What are you talking about?”
Jimin looked like he was about to speak, but seemed to decide against it. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter,” he said, turning his attention back to Jungkook. He pulled his own shoulders back, craning his neck so he could see Jungkook’s face, brushing the hair out of Jungkook’s eyes. “Hey, Kook, it’s me. It’s ok. Everything’s ok.”
Taehyung looked puzzled but concerned, and Yoongi just watched. Who was this Jimin guy? Did he know Jungkook previously? His thought was interrupted by more pain, and his back arched as pain shot through his shoulders.
Fuck!
“Yoongi...ssi?” Taehyung said his name hesitantly.
“Get. Jungkook. To. breathe.” His words came out rough, but hopefully they were understandable. “Deep. Breaths.”
“Jimin, he said deep breaths for Jungkook,” Taehyung urged. “What about you?” Yoongi knew those words were directed at him. He just shook his head.
He could hear Jimin coaching Jungkook to breathe, counting the seconds to inhale. Good. He understood. His own breathing was ragged, but he chanced a small squeeze at Jungkook’s hand. It took a second, but he received one back.
He’s ok.
He held his own breath, willing the pain to pass so he could at least get a proper look at Jungkook. He was not ready to lose consciousness again. He felt it coming, but he held on. He held on tight, feeling Jungkook’s warm hand in his own. The way Jungkook squeezed his hand. He wanted to hold on like Jungkook.
Finally the pain eased from sharp and stabbing to a dull throb, and he managed to open his eyes. Jungkook was looking at him through watery eyes, head resting on Jimin’s shoulder, Jimin had his arms wrapped around him protectively. He looked exhausted, but he was ok. He gave another soft squeeze, a silent are you ok? . Jungkook squeezed back, yes.