Chapter Text
Day 20 - Home
The room is cream.
Everything about it is cream- the walls, the couch you’re sitting on, the chair your therapist is sitting on, the mug in your hands, the painting of flowers hanging to your left.
Did they choose cream instead of white to make you feel less like a hospital patient?
Dr. Song stares at you, waiting for you to answer her question.
“I can’t,” you say weakly, remembering what she’d asked. Your fingers tremble despite having gloves warming them and being wrapped around the warm cup of coffee.
“Try,” Dr. Song prompts you. “The only way to remember is to push your mind. Push yourself, Y/N, try as hard as you can. What happened on that island? Remember, we don’t need exact details. Just who was there, and what happened to them.”
Your hands shake harder.
Lightning. You hate lightning, and he knows that.
Everything is dark, it’s too dark to see. Was it always like that?
He’s screaming, you think. Or is that you?
“I don’t know,” you whisper. “I can’t remember. I’m sorry.”
She stares at you again, lips set in a hard line, but only a few seconds pass before she breaks into a deep sigh, leaning back into the plush of her chair and pressing her nose in between her forefinger and thumb.
“Have you been eating by the diet we set for you?”
You nod. You don’t reply. You find it hard to reply to her, even with these easy questions. It’s like she’s always trying to suck information out of you that you have no way of recalling.
She sighs again, makes a tsk sound, and finally looks back at you from under her thick black frames. “You’ll meet with Dr. Jeong tomorrow to continue with the EMDR therapy. Have your grandparents gone through the paperwork to begin neurofeedback at the office as well?”
“I think so,” you reply quietly.
“Good.” she nods. “Make sure you’re doing everything in your ability to remember. It’s imperative that you do, or else the rest of your classmates may never be found.”
“I understand,” you say, already feeling dizzy and weak at the word ‘classmates’. They’re all you’ve heard about for the past three weeks, after all.
“I’ll lead you out.” Dr. Song tells you, giving you a grim smile as she stands.
You take the coffee mug with you when you walk out of the office. You can’t bear not having something to hold onto.
Jungkook’s mom is sitting by his bed when you arrive. She’s always there, really. She’s been there every day since the two of you came back.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jeon,” you say, bowing respectfully before you walk into the room.
She stands from her chair, turns to face you with the same kind smile she’s always had directed at you. “Y/N, sweetheart. Did you just come from the therapist?”
You nod. “Jin brought me here right away. Have you eaten yet today?”
She shrugs. “Junghyun brought me some food this morning, but he had classes for the rest of the day.”
Anyone else would tell her it wouldn’t kill her to leave Jungkook’s side for ten minutes to go down to the hospital cafeteria and grab a meal to bring back up and eat in the room. You understand, though. You spend more time than you should here, too. Despite what the doctors say about Jungkook’s chances, he’s your only hope, and you have to find a way to wake him up. And if you can’t do that, you can at least support his family by being there for them throughout the day. Although Mrs. Jeon is too kind to say, you know it must be nothing short of infuriating to have a witness to how your son ends up in a coma, and the witness is an amnesiac. She is too kind to say, but any parent would wish it were their child who comes back awake.
“I’ll go to the convenience store and get you some ramen,” you tell her, patting her hand comfortingly.
“Ah, you sweet girl,” Mrs. Jeon says, bringing you into a tight hug. She clings onto you much stronger than a friend’s mother normally would, but your relationship in the past few weeks has grown to be more than that. “Be careful on your way there.”
“I will,” you promise, holding up a fist as if to say ‘fighting!’. She smiles warmly at you as you turn to walk back out the door. You look back, though, as she’s sitting back down beside Jungkook.
His face is peaceful. His eyelashes rest on the tops of his cheeks, and you wonder if his doe-eyes will look the same if he ever opens them again. You pray every night that you’ll see them open again.
“I’ll remember, Jungkook,” you whisper to yourself as you watch Mrs. Jeon wrap her hand tightly around Jungkook’s limp one, squeezing it so hard his skin turns whiter than it already is. “I promise I’ll remember. For us. For everyone.”
You turn away, your own words resonating in your head.
Everyone.
Why did it have to be you?