Chapter Text
When Yoongi wakes up, the first thing he sees is a white ceiling, with a turned off neon light staring back at him. As it is way too bright in this room for it to be whichever circle of hell he’ll end up in in the event of his death, he guesses he messed up somewhere along the lines. Sensations come back to him and he finds that he’s hurting too much for it to be over. He tries to sit up, only to find out he can’t, his feet and arms bound to the bed by leathery restraints.
“What the hell?”
He turns his head and there’s a nurse looking at the machineries biping gently at the side of his bed, who offers a sweet smile at his outburst.
“Hello” says the nurse, with too much volume and enthusiasm. Yoongi winces.
“Welcome back.”
“Welcome back to where?”
“To consciousness, I guess?”
“What’s up with those?”
“Ah, when you woke up in the ambulance, you started to thrash and threaten everyone with fiery death, so they had to sedate you and then we decided to bound you to the bed in case you do it again.”
“Can you undo them?”
“I’ll need your doctor’s approval to do so. Now that you’ve awaken she will have things to discuss with you, so I’ll go get her.”
Yoongi sighs. This is too difficult.
The nurse smiles, and quite awkwardly pats him on the head.
“It’s going to be okay”, he says before leaving, and it seems to Yoongi that he really does believe it.
Once the nurse is gone, Yoongi lets his head fall back on the white pillow, trying not to focus on the pain shooting up both his arms and the headache pounding behind his eyelids. The only noises now are the beeping of the machinery and the faint rumor of traffic outside the small window. He tries to guess which hospital he’s in, failing that, tries to remember the events that led him up to that point. He had been in a downward spiral for a while now, a bad spell worse than usual. Nothing special had really happened last night to push him over the edge. Just – he had drunk too much, and… Such weariness had come over him. It wasn’t worth it anymore, he was just so tired.
His thoughts are interrupted by voices in the corridor, and then the same nurse re-enters, followed by a young doctor who shoots a motherly smile at him, asking how he is feeling. Yoongi doesn’t really know what to answer to that, so he stays silent. The doctor doesn’t seem bothered by it, as if she wasn’t really expecting an answer at all. Instead, she grabs a folding chair that was pushed back against the wall, and while the nurse busies himself untying his restraints, the doctor tells him of how his neighbor found him by accident, stepping inside his room when he saw the door wasn’t quite closed, thinking of a robbery. She speaks of the ride in the ambulance, of the operation they performed on his arms, and how they would like to keep him here a bit, if he agrees, because he quite obviously needs help and they are able to provide it – or at least their psychiatric unit is.
Yoongi just nods. It’s too much at once, and he doesn’t really care anyway. They say he will need to sign some papers when he feels better, that for now he should just rest, that the nurse is going to give him some pain medicine and that lunch is in an hour. The doctor apologizes for the tiny room, but they are overcrowded at the moment.
“Yeah”, Yoongi hears himself say, “everyone’s killing themselves these days”.
The doctor doesn’t seem to find that particularly funny, but he sees the ghost of a smile pass on the nurse’s lips, who winks at him over the woman’s shoulder.
“Well, if you need anything, just use the bell button and someone will come right over. We will go over potential treatment and the possibility of being committed here later in the day, but for now, you should rest.”
Some more advice and nodding later, and they are both gone, the door closed. Again, Yoongi stares at the ceiling and its turned off light. He had barely listened, but the doctor’s voice echoes in his head in a continuous loop. She had mentioned being committed there. He thinks on what he has to go back to, a one-room in a crappy goshiwon he can barely afford, a part-time job he’ll lose if he misses one more day (didn’t he already, though?), cold showers in the morning and soggy cereals for dinner because he cannot muster the energy to go down the one floor to the common kitchen. Maybe he could take a break. Maybe they can actually help, pat him on the head, tell him it’s going to be okay and genuinely believe it. He turns on his side, brings his knees up towards his chest. Does his insurance even cover things like this?
Turns out it does, and the doctor tells him he’s going to be part of a program that takes a lot of donations anyway, to cut costs burden on the patients. She smiles at him, tells him it’s good that he decided to stay, that he’s going to be in very capable hands, and Yoongi tunes out halfway through. He signs some papers he doesn’t bother to read, and the doctor tells him he will be moved to his new room the next day. She leaves soon after, when the same nurse he already met gets in to disinfect his wounds and change the bandages. Under the cloths, the skin is raised and reddish, hematomas surging here and there, suturing all over the place. He had really meant it, apparently. Looking at his arms makes him feel faint, so he fixates his gaze on the nurse’s face, who doesn’t seem to mind.
“It’s good you decided to stay. You’re gonna have a roommate though, like you said, everyone’s killing themselves these days. But I’m sure it will do you good.”
“Can you even say that?”
“Maybe not. But you would hate it if I was walking on eggs around you, right?”
Yoongi thinks back on the prudent smiles the doctor gives him, how her voice is always low and monotone, like she’s afraid to hurt his ears if she would speak even a bit louder. He thinks back on the gentle smile of the nurse who brought him his lunch, how she helped him eat with slow gestures as if he was made of glass. Yeah, he had hated it.
“I guess so. What’s your name anyway.”
“Kim Himchan. I already introduced myself but you weren’t listening I guess.”
The name doesn’t ring any bell.
“I actually do the night shift in the psych unit sometimes, so I’ll see you around even after you transfer. Isn’t that nice. Okay, you’re all done.”
He gets up from the folding chair and pats Yoongi’s hair like he did that last time.
“I’m not a kid you know.”
“I know. It makes you feel better though, doesn’t it.”
Himchan goes to pat his hair again with a slight knowing smirk on his lips, and Yoongi tells himself he would have smacked his hand away if only he could have raised it.
The nurse who wheels him into his new room a day later isn’t Himchan, and Yoongi wishes he didn’t care. His roommate isn’t there yet, off to an exercise session, according to the nurse. Yoongi hopes in passing that they won’t expect him to exercise. The room is simple enough, a small rectangle separated by a curtain currently tied up against the wall as a mean of providing privacy. Both sides are mirroring each other, with beds set near the curtain, armchairs pushed against the walls for potential visitors and small desks in the corners. One of which is incredibly messy, indicating that his roommate chose the side farthest from the window. A table is set up next to the door on Yoongi’s side, probably where they can take their meals if they don’t want to try out the refectory, and a wardrobe they must share is set in the same space on the other side.
“Your roommate’s name is Lee Minhyuk. He’s been here for some time already, so he knows the facilities well. You can ask him anything.”
Yoongi nods, gets up from the wheelchair and softly pads to the freshly-made bed. He would need to find a way to get his stuff over. The hospital had been able to provide simple clothing but it wouldn’t even be enough for the week. He sits down on the side of the bed, which seems softer than the previous one, and the nurse smiles at him.
“I’ll leave you to it then.”
Another nod, and the door closes on the woman. He has already forgotten her name.
When the door opens again after some time, Yoongi is still sitting in the same place, staring ahead at a Wonder Woman poster his roommate has put up on his wall. A dirty-blond boy stands in the doorway, hand still gripping the door handle. They stare at each other for a while before the boy finally enters and closes the door behind him. Then he smiles, and Yoongi is reminded of Himchan, the way it feels genuine and effortless.
“You must be my new roommate then. Sorry, I forgot what they told me your name was.”
“Min Yoongi.”
“Right. I’m Lee Minhyuk, but you probably already know.”
And then he’s crossing the room and standing in front of Yoongi with easy familiarity.
“Hey, I don’t smell, right? I had exercising, but like, I don’t feel like taking a shower.”
He smells like the outdoor, and that’s what Yoongi says. The guy makes a face.
“Well, I guess the outdoor is fine. I’ve been rolling around in the grass for the better part of the afternoon so I guess it’s normal. Unless it grosses you out. Does it gross you out?”
“Not really.”
“Great. You don’t talk much do you. That’s fine. I talk enough for three people, at least that’s what Kihyun says.”
Yoongi doesn’t ask who that Kihyun is, but he didn’t need to anyway. Minhyuk is readily explaining it to him while going back to his side of the room to drop off the small gym bag he had been carrying all along. In the blink of an eye he’s back at Yoongi’s bedside, a little fidgety.
“Hey, you did it like this, right? That’s what the nurse said. She was a bit on the chatty side.”
He’s miming slicing his wrists and Yoongi wonders for a moment if he found the less tactful person on earth. The guy looks at him like he wants him to elaborate, so Yoongi soldiers on.
“Yeah. I saw it in a movie.”
“Which one”
“Chingu.”
“Oh yeah, I seen it. About the guys from Busan, right? I liked it.”
“Yeah.”
“Ever been there?”
“Yeah. I had… friends from there.”
If Minhyuk heard his voice crack, he doesn’t let it show.
“Cool cool cool. I never been. I went for the pills.”
That’s when Yoongi belatedly realizes that Minhyuk does indeed speak a whole of a lot, and probably has boundary issues. Although he finds it not so bad. His incessant babble drowns out the droning of thoughts in his head. Minhyuk doesn’t even require him to really participate, as long as he nods and makes appropriate noises at the appropriate time. His voice is somehow soothing. Yoongi suddenly feels drowsy, and he reclines on his bed while Minhyuk tries fruitlessly to tidy up his desk while talking about everyday life at the hospital. He probably falls asleep, because the next time he opens his eyes, his roommate is sited on his own bed and he’s not alone.
A dark-haired boy with sharp features is lounging in the armchair next to the bed and smiles while listening to whatever Minhyuk, sitting cross-legged on top of his covers, is going on about. They didn’t close the privacy curtain. There’s a small stack of comic books in between them and a crumpled messenger bag is lying at the foot of the bed. Yoongi must have been staring a bit too intently; the dark-haired boy suddenly looks up as if sensing something and his smile intensifies. It makes his cheekbones stand-out even more, and Yoongi is reminded of another boy with dark hair and high cheekbones. The image is fleeting, disappearing as the boy nods to him and motions to Minhyuk.
“Your roommate’s awake.”
The blond’s head snaps in his direction and it’s the first time Yoongi doesn’t see him smiling. It makes him a little uneasy.
“Sorry, I fell asleep while you were talking.”
That cracks up the other one and a small smile creeps back on Minhyuk’s full lips. The friend is the first to talk.
“Believe it or not, that’s not the first time it happened.”
Somehow Yoongi has no trouble believing that.
“I’m Yoo Kihyun, by the way.”
“Min Yoongi”, he says, trying but failing to remember what Minhyuk had mentioned about him. Something about singing.
“Nice to meet you. Sorry you have to share your room with Minhyuk, of all people.”
“Hey, what did I do?”
They instantly start bickering, and it’s so playful and light-hearted Yoongi wonders if they really realize where they are.
Kihyun finally pushes his hands against Minhyuk’s mouth to get him to shut up, and they both somehow find it hilarious when the latter falls back on the bed, pulling Kihyun with him. Yoongi just stares, not entirely sure what’s going on. Kihyun seems to be the first one to remember there’s someone else in the room.
“Sorry, got a bit carried away. Seriously though, don’t hesitate to tell him to shut up if he gets too annoying. Everyone does it all the time he doesn’t even get offended anymore.”
“I actually do”, Minhyuk protests, “but I know none of you care about my feelings anyway.”
For a minute Yoongi fears another bickering session, but Kihyun just pats him on the head like a child, and all is forgiven.
“By the way, you slept through lunch, and their stuff is disgusting once cold. You can have mine instead, I haven’t touched it yet.”
That’s when Yoongi notices the food tray sat on the table near the door. Before he can even protest, Kihyun is replacing it with a small dosirak box. Inside is some homemade kimpab and kimchi fried rice that do look better than the hospital food, despite their simplicity.
“It’s not much but at least you won’t gag. I can just go get something else from the convenient store for myself so don’t worry and just eat it.”
Yoongi wonders for a bit why this stranger is so nice to him when another thought makes his way through his brain, which Minhyuk helpfully voices.
“Kihyun, that’s very nice and all but he fucked up his arms, I think he can barely close his fist.”
“Oh, awkward. And we can’t call the nurse, she will make him eat the hospital food.”
It marvels at him just how normal Kihyun is acting. As if it happens to him every day, to meet some guy who cannot use his hands well because he butchered his own arms.
“Let’s just call the nurse, I am okay with hospital food.”
Minhyuk vehemently shakes his head at that.
“You have no idea how not okay you are with cold hospital food. Letting us spoon feed you fried rice like a baby bird is clearly the less horrible option in this case. Trust me, I know. I’ve been there.”
Kihyun is wisely nodding at these words, so Yoongi just relents with a sigh. Thankfully, Minhyuk decides to take the lead on the whole baby-bird-spoon-feeding business. It is somehow less awkward having him do it than Kihyun. The two boys keep the conversation going, weaving back and forth between comic books, Kihyun’s university classes, a dance competition some guy called Shownu won (what kind of name is that?) and what happened at the last singing club meeting (so it was something about singing).
They don’t expect Yoongi to participate, speaking around him more than with him, as if they understood he’s not up for it now, but they don’t mind, and Yoongi somehow still feels included. It is a bit strange. Kihyun and Minhyuk are almost too normal in their interactions, with him and between themselves, too normal and familiar and warm. A fuzzy, nostalgic feeling settles in his chest. He had that too, the easy camaraderie that comes with years of knowing each other. He wonders if he will ever know the feeling again, and then chastises himself over how cheesy that felt.
After lunch, Kihyun takes Minhyuk for a walk, and the room falls silent again. Yoongi stretches back on his bed and tries to sleep, as he does when he doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts. He finds that sleep doesn’t come that easily, and wonders if it would be too much to ask Himchan or someone else to go to his old room and find his mp3 player. Music would help. He then remembers with a pang of anxiety that he still hasn’t figured out a way to empty his room before the end of the month, since he cannot pay rent for another one. He must also have ten thousand missed call from his boss firing him, and figures he should ask for his phone as well. This nice train of thoughts gains momentum and he curls up on himself, suddenly crushed by the amount of things he forgot he had to deal with.
Thankfully, the door of the room flies open, and Kihyun steps back in, stopped dead in his track when he sees Yoongi.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think you’d be sleeping. Did I wake you?”
Yoongi straightens up and answer by the negative.
“I just forgot my bag here. Minhyuk’s at his group therapy thingy. You don’t have those?”
“No. I’m only starting everything next week. They’re letting me rest.”
“Ha, enjoy your last days of peace then. By the way, you read comics?”
Yoongi is a bit taken aback by the familiarity of the other boy. But then again, pretty much everyone had been overly familiar with him lately, he guesses he should just get used to it.
“I guess so.”
“I work part time at my uncle’s book store and he lets me take pretty much whatever I want, so if you want some stuff just tell me. I can also get books. Minhyuk has like ten thousand of them already so you can borrow from him too. It can get quite boring in here. You don’t have a computer?”
“No.”
“Man, better steel yourself for long wintery nights then. They got a couple in the common room though, ever been there?”
Yoongi shakes his head again.
“It’s just downstairs. I thought they would have shown you. Well anyway, I gotta go now, but don’t hesitate to ask Minhyuk to show you around if you want. Though he probably will even if you don’t ask.”
A smile, a wave, and Kihyun is gone like a dream. Yoongi finds that the tight clamp on his stomach isn’t as stifling anymore.
The afternoon is drawing to a close and Kihyun doesn't feel like going back to his room. So he goes to Hyugwon's instead, Hyungwon who doesn’t even raise his head from his desk when Kihyun just lets himself in and goes straight to face plant on his bed.
“Minhyuk got a new roommate.”
“Better or worse than the last one?”
“How could he be worse?”
“Good point.”
Kihyun doesn’t say anything more, which is a bit uncharacteristic of him, so Hyungwon finally abandons the law notes he was absent-mindlessly doodling over instead of actually read, and swivels in his chair.
“What is it.”
“Nothing.”
Kihyun has turned on his back and stares at the ceiling. Hyugwon makes a face and walks his rolling chair to the edge of the bed, where he leans towards Kihyun with a conspiratory look on his features.
“Is he cute? He is, isn’t he.”
He is rewarded with a pillow in his face and Kihyun rolling on his side, turning his back to him.
“Grumpy much.”
“He liked my dosirak.”
It comes muffled from the other side of the bed and Hyungwon transfers his butt from the chair to the covers, giving a light tap on Kihyun’s side.
“Well that’s good. Give him more. They say a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
Kihyun swats at Hyungwon’s hand without even looking at him. Hyungwon laughs and lays down on his back beside his friend, looking up at the ceiling.
“I do not like him. I just met him.”
“And yet you’re playing flustered Victorian heroine on my bed now.”
“I’m not flustered.”
“You so are. Is your heart going all tugun tugun when you look at him?”
“Stop this.”
“All right.” A pause. Hyungwon looks over to Kihyun, who still has his head buried in the covers. “You know that it’s okay right.”
“Yeah, you told me ten thousand times.”
“It’s just. You don’t seem that comfortable with it.”
Kihyun turns on his back again, face thoughtful, staring at a black spot on the ceiling. A crushed mosquito. He feels the urge to clean it.
“I’m getting there.”
“Okay, good.”
They stay like this for a bit, laying side by side. They’re doing this a lot these days.
“Wanna play a game?”
“I don’t know. I should probably go. I told my mom I’d drop by and cook tonight.”
“Okay.”
Kihyun doesn’t move though, and they stay like this until Hyungwon’s roommate comes back and starts ranting about international law. Those are Hyungwon’s favorite rants, so Kihyun takes this as his cue to leave. As a music major, he has nothing to contribute.
The night outside is chilly but he welcomes the cold after the stuffiness of Hyungwon’s room. The subway ride to his mom’s tiny flat takes about forty-five minutes and he still has to get on a bus before making it all the way there. He likes the city at night, with its colored lights and the car’s headlights dotting the scenery. Coffee shops spilling music on the sidewalk, tired students filing out of hakwons, the familiar neon lights of convenient stores… Kihyun closes his eyes and let the quavers of the bus almost put him to sleep. His heart may not go tugun tugun but his head recognizes the familiar feeling of falling.