Chapter Text
He knows he's accident prone—to put it mildly—but he really does try not to break anything, he swears. At the same time, he guesses he understands why Jin usually doesn't let him help cook since whenever he's there something manages to catch on fire or shatter on the floor.
But right now he's hungry, and the only other person in the house is Jungkook, and he's asleep on the couch in the next room. So, he's going to make himself some food. It's beautiful and sunny out, and the kitchen is bright and inviting. He doesn't get careless though. He doesn't really want to deal with a catastrophe, so he's sticking to something safe. He's just going to slice up some apple to have with some peanut butter. No stove means no fire, and if the apple falls on the ground he can just wash it.
He happily hums Run as he slices, wiggling his shoulders in time with the beat. He's halfway through the apple when it happens.
Crack
A car backfires.
The sound is loud and sharp, and Rapmon startles and drops the knife, but, filled with adrenaline from the sudden noise, his reflexes let him quickly throw out a hand to catch it. He grabs it mid-fall.
Shit. Fuck.
The blade digs into his palm, and it clatters to the floor as he lets go.
He should have just let it drop.
His hand is now bleeding profusely, and it's running down his arm and dripping on the floor, and that has to be unsanitary in a kitchen.
He reaches for the paper towels and tries to yank one off one-handed, but he somehow manages to yank hard enough to pull the entire roll and its wooden stand to the ground, and now he's holding one end of the paper towels and the rest are rolling away across the kitchen floor. He scrabbles after them, trying to tear a few off to staunch his bleeding hand. He catches up with them at the entryway of the kitchen.
Really. This could only happen to him. He internally rolls his eyes.
“Hyung?” Jungkook is standing there looking down at him and the paper towels and the blood, looking a little shell-shocked.
“Um” Namjoon doesn't know what to say. “I cut my hand.”
Jungkook seems to buffer, standing frozen for a few seconds before dashing off towards the bathroom.
As Namjoon squishes towels to his palm, he wonders vaguely whether his dongsaeng has gone to puke.
It turns out, though, that he actually just went to get one of the long hand towels from the closet. Which makes more sense. He didn't really think Jungkook would be squeamish over just some blood. He moves Namjoon's ball of paper out of the way and starts wrapping the towel around his hand.
“You're bleeding a lot,” Jungkook says.
“It'll stop. I don't think I cut myself that deep.”
Jungkook looks up from his hyung's hand and stares at him like he's speaking gibberish.
“What?”
“...Hold this for a second,” Jungkook says instead of answering.
Namjoon obeys, curling his fingers in to hold the towel shut around his hand. Jungkook takes his hand and brings it up over Namjoon's head. “Keep it there,” he says as he runs off again.
He comes back with an old scarf, and he lowers Namjoon's hand briefly and ties it tightly around his make-shift bandage, making sure none of the wrapping comes loose when he lets go. Then he makes Rapmon raise his hand again.
He could have wrapped his hand himself. He feels fine, clearheaded. But somehow it seems appropriate to let the maknae take care of things. And it's kind of cute seeing him fuss.
“I'm going to go call one of the managers now, so we can go to the hospital.”
“It's okay, I can—”
“You can sit there. I'll call.”
He doesn't even bother to go into the next room, just take a few steps away, dials and then has a very short conversation that goes, “Hi hyungnim. Rapmon-hyung cut open his hand. Yeah, that would be good. I don't know. He says it's not that deep, but it's bleeding a lot. Okay. We'll wait outside. Thank you. Bye.”
He turns back to Rapmon “They'll be here to pick us up in ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
Jungkook sits down on a stool at the island and looks at Rapmon's face. “Do you feel okay? Are you gonna pass out on me?” He tries a smile that Rapmon is sure is meant to be joking but he can see worry burning in the maknae's eyes.
“I'm pretty okay, considering,” he answers honestly, hoping to reassure him.
–
They try to get themselves together quickly—Jungkook changes out of his sweatpants in record time, and ties Rapmon's shoes with almost inhuman speed—but they hit a sang when they realize it's early December and Rapmon is going to be cold without an outer layer.
They wrestle with Rapmon's coat for awhile, trying out any way they can think to get the jacket on him even though they can't fit the giant ball of cloth that is his hand through his sleeve. It won't stay on draped over his shoulders since his hand is up in the air, so they're trying to secure it somehow with one arm in. When he winds up with one sleeve on and the other tied around his shoulder, Rapmon has had enough.
“This isn't working. I feel ridiculous. I can just go without.”
Jungkook doesn't agree. He runs back down the hall, grabs the comforter off Rapmon's bed and just cocoons him in it.
“You can take it off before we go in the hospital.”
They wait out front for the manager to pick them up, and Jungkook gently massages his hyung's shoulder, which is much appreciated, as it is getting sore from holding his arm up.
Namjoon has to admit, he's pretty impressed with how the youngest member is handling things. Jungkook is usually the one being taken care of, and he has six hyungs around all the time, so he doesn't usually take charge in difficult situations. He can't help smiling a little with pride when he looks at Jungkook being kind and responsible like this.
Jungkook sees his smile and gives a warm, shy grin in return.
The car pulls up, and Jungkook lifts up the back of the comforter to help Namjoon get in without dragging it on the ground.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He can't calm down.
Ever since he walked around that corner and all he could see was red. Blood had dripped everywhere and there was a trail all across the kitchen, and his hyung was there chasing after knocked over paper towels like it was actually just milk all over the floor and he hadn't just sliced his hand open.
God, that blood had been everywhere.
Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut in the waiting room and tries to push the mental image out of his mind.
Fortunately, the waiting room was mostly empty when they got there, so Rapmon had gone right back to see a doctor, and now all they had to do was wait while he was taken care of.
Unfortunately, Jungkook had been in a rush, so he hadn't brought his sketchbook or charged his phone, meaning he didn't have anything to keep him from thinking about the events of the past hour.
Even worse, he could barely remember anything between turning the corner to the kitchen and wrapping Rapmon-hyung in his comforter. It was like he had gone into a trance or something. He had been so terrified, but somehow even though internally he had been frantic, he'd dealt with the situation. It was like he doing things on automatic. Saying things and doing things, but not being fully aware of what he was doing or how he was managing to do it.
So all he could remember when he thought back was the panic.
What am I supposed to do? How much blood has he lost? The towel stained so fast. What if I can't stop the bleeding? How fast can we get to a hospital? I don't know how to make a tourniquet. Does he need a tourniquet? Should I look it up? Do I need to worry about him going into shock? Is he cold? Is he okay? Shouldn't I ask if he's okay? Would he tell me if he wasn't okay?
And somehow he's still thinking all those things. Even though they're at the hospital. Somehow he's still tense and full of adrenaline and terrified.
After what feels like ages—but is actually twenty minutes—Namjoon comes back to the waiting room, sporting a much more conventional bandage. The manager is with him, an arm around his shoulder.
Jungkook stands up as they approach, and Rapmonster waves at him.
“Are you okay, hyung?”
“Yup. I'm all fixed up,” he says, as the three of them head back out to the car.
“But he's going to be very careful for the next week or so to make sure he doesn't tear his stitches,” says the manager, giving Rapmon a look.
“I can still do dance practice and stuff, though, I just won't do some of the movements.”
Jungkook nods, trying to process that everything is taken care of now.
They get to the car, and the two idols slip into the back again.
Jungkook looks blankly out the window as they pull out of the parking lot. He jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder. He turns to see his hyung smiling gently at him with warmth in his eyes.
“Thank you for today. You took really good care of me.” He squeezes his dongsaeng's shoulder.
Suddenly all the tension bleeds out of Jungkook and relief finally washes over him...then his bottom lip quivers and his downturned eyes start to burn.
“Jungkookie?”
He looks up and he sees his hyung's blood-stained shirt and his worried face, and it pushes him over the edge. Suddenly there are tears running down his face and his chest is heaving in silent sobs.
Rapmon takes off his seat belt so he can slide closer and pull him into a one-armed hug.
“Hey, shh, everything is okay,” he says quietly, tucking Jungkook's head under his chin.
Jungkook tightly grasps at the sides of his hyung's shirt.
“I'm okay, Kook-ah, aigoo. I'm totally fine now,” he murmurs into his hair. He rubs his hand up and down the other's back, trying to soothe him. “Everything's fine.”
They stay like that for a few minutes, Jungkook hiccuping quiet sobs and Namjoon shushing and murmuring and comforting until there's only sniffles.
Once he's calmed down, Jungkook wipes his eyes and pulls out of the hug, sniffling some more.
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, Kookie. I'm sorry I scared you like that.”
“You didn't do it on purpose.”
“But I'm sorry anyway,” he says earnestly.
“You absolutely aren't allowed to cook anymore,” says Jungkook, wiping his arm over his face.
Rapmon leans his head on Jungkook's shoulder. “Okay, Kookie. Okay.”