Chapter Text
The first thing that registers in Hoseok’s brain when he opens his eyes is how fucking bright the lights are. Like honestly, he just survived a four hour surgery, the least the doctors could do is dim the fucking lights a little.
The next thing he becomes aware of is how much his mouth tastes like ass, and how his teeth are a little tingly and his tongue feels oddly thick. He tries to lift a hand to massage his jaw a little, get some moisture going, but he’s got wires and tubes connected to him everywhere, and they’re hard to navigate with the remnants of anesthesia still running through his bloodstream. Hoseok gives up on trying to get rid of the desert inside of his mouth and just lets his head rest against the thin pillow underneath him, heart rate monitor by his side letting out a pattern of beeps indicating that Hoseok is indeed alive, no matter how much he feels like death.
The last thing he notices is how both of his legs are covered in perfectly clean white bandages.
Ah yes, Hoseok thinks, my career is actually over.
A nurse pulls back the curtain to his right, interrupting Hoseok’s pitiful train of thought. She’s holding some crackers in one hand and there’s a bottle of water tucked underneath her arm. Her face is lit up by a huge thousand watt smile, but Hoseok finds it hard to return given his current mental state. Also, the drugs make any muscle movement difficult.
“Welcome back Hoseok-ssi! The surgery went exceptionally well, once we get your actual room set up, we’ll wheel you back there so you can recover fully. Water?”
Hoseok nods, reaching out to take the bottle of water from the nurse when she offers it to him. He tries to twist the cap off, but whatever medication he’s on have turned his arms to spaghetti, and he instead just looks at the nurse with defeat in his eyes.
“Oh right, I’m so sorry! I’ll open that for you,” the nurse says, easily opening the bottle and holding it up to Hoseok’s lips so he can take a couple of sips. She puts it back on the side table when he’s done and rips open the package of crackers for Hoseok to munch on while the last dregs of anesthesia leave his body. “Eat a little something, we should be able to transfer you soon!”
Another nod, since Hoseok’s lips have apparently been replaced with rubber, and the nurse leaves with one last beaming smile in Hoseok’s direction. Hoseok’s fingers fumble with the crackers, but when he eventually gets one into his mouth, he realises he’s not even hungry. He drops his arms to his sides and huffs out a breath, scowling at everything and cursing in his head.
Looking down at his legs still wrapped in their temporary casts, he recalls what put him in the hospital in the first place. Suddenly his vision starts to blur at the edges and snot starts to form in his nose, but Hoseok still doesn’t have much control over his body, so he just lets everything out. Tears dampen his hospital gown, and there’s definitely some questionable moisture collecting on his upper lip, but Hoseok doesn’t care, his career is over.
It had all happened pretty quickly. One minute, Hoseok was on a breakaway in the opposing team’s half of the field, ball at his feet and goal in his sights. The next minute, he was lying on the ground in a world of pain.
Turns out, the other team’s center back had decided that that day would not be the day Hoseok would score for his country in order to secure them a spot in the next round of World Cup qualifying matches.
Instead, that day would be the day that Hoseok would tear both of his ACLs. Instead, that day would be the day that Hoseok’s professional soccer career would end.
Maybe Hoseok was just being dramatic. Maybe his career wouldn’t have to actually end. ACL tears were a common injury for soccer players, most people making full recoveries after suffering from an accident like that. Tearing both of them at the same time though? Might be a bit more difficult to come back from that.
And it wasn’t just the injury itself, but the timing of it all. They were only a couple months away from the start of the World Cup, a tournament that could have been the turning point for Hoseok’s career. It was supposed to be where Hoseok would shine, show off his skills on the biggest stage in soccer, lead his team to victory, and possibly make some connections that could lead to him playing in a league overseas.
But now, none of that would happen. At least not this time around anyways.
So yeah, Hoseok was bitter; he thought that he deserved the right to be a little dramatic, considering.
Hoseok closed his eyes as he listened to the incessant beeping that continued by his side. His stomach was in knots and his face felt swollen and disgusting, so he figured he could skip his post-surgery snack and go for a nap instead. Maybe when he woke up it would all just turn out to be a very long and elaborate nightmare.
Sadly, it doesn’t turn out to be a nightmare. Instead, Hoseok is once again greeted by his bandaged legs, only this time, he’s in a different room, with actual walls instead of curtains, and there’s a doctor standing beside his bed, flipping papers on a clipboard. The constant beeping of the heart monitor is still there, and Hoseok has a strong urge to yank the cord out of the socket.
The doctor glances up when Hoseok stirs; he’s got kind eyes that crinkle at the corners and reminds Hoseok of his grandfather, and Hoseok really wants to like him, but he hates him. Hates him for mummifying his legs and for smiling at him like nothing is wrong when Hoseok’s life has been ruined.
“Hey there Hoseok, I’m Dr. Lee, I’ll be in charge of your post-surgery recovery. The surgeon that performed the operation on your legs, Dr. Song, said that everything went swimmingly and he expects you to make a full recovery. That’s where I come in!” Dr. Lee gives him a goofy sort of grin and points to himself. Hoseok tries to smile back but his lips do nothing more than twitch a millimeter or two. It doesn’t seem to deter Dr. Lee though, who continues on with excessive enthusiasm. “So, the surgery repaired your torn tendons, but you’re not fixed right away. You’ll need to go to physical therapy for a couple of months in order to get everything back in tip-top shape!” Dr. Lee claps his hands together quietly, and says a little cheer of excitement, as if going to physical therapy was something to be absolutely ecstatic about. Hoseok can say he doesn’t exactly return the sentiment.
“Okay doctor, sounds great,” Hoseok lies. His voice is gravely and his throat is raw from disuse, but Dr. Lee just gives him another thumbs up before telling him that he has a visitor waiting for him in the hallway. Hoseok doesn’t really feel like seeing anyone at this particular moment in time, just wants to be alone and cry and maybe punch his pillow a little bit to get his frustrations out. But he tells Dr. Lee that it’s okay to let whoever it is into his room.
Hoseok waits for his visitor by practicing his breathing, in through his nose, out through his mouth, and by repeating the steady mantra of it’s okay, it’s okay, everything will be okay. A minute or two later, Jungkook walks in, eyes open wide and filled with worry and concern, teeth tearing into his bottom lip. His teammate is sweaty, but Hoseok can’t tell if that’s because of the anxiety or because he just came from practice.
“How are you feeling hyung?” Jungkook asks, timidly walking to the side of the bed while adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder.
Hoseok hums a bit and plays with the sheets, fingers rubbing the fabric together as if that could somehow soothe his broken heart. “Eh, I’ve been better. The good news is that I’d probably make a pretty good zombie with my legs like this.”
Jungkook snorts out a tiny laugh, and Hoseok feels his heart lighten up the just the smallest amount. His tendons may have been torn in two but his sense of humor was still intact at least.
“Everyone on the team misses you at practice. It’s been weird without you hyung,” Jungkook tells him, looking down at his feet.
Hoseok smiles and takes Jungkook’s hand in his, squeezing it in reassurance. “Keep everyone in line for me, okay Kook?”
A nod, and then a grimace. “Coach is already talking about how to organize the team now that you’re out.”
And that, that hurts a bit. The smile on Hoseok’s face falters ever so slightly, but he doesn’t let it fall too far, lest Jungkook see and start to feel even worse. It’s only logical, it makes sense; Hoseok will be out of commission for a few months, maybe up to a year depending on how things go, and it’s understandable that the team would be working on a way to fill the void he left behind. Doesn’t change the fact that it fucking hurts though.
“That’s… that’s good. Coach always was looking ahead,” Hoseok says, voice a little strained through his grit teeth.
“Yeah, but you only got injured a week ago! Your wound is, quite literally, still fresh! He doesn’t even care, didn’t even want to come visit you at the hospital when I asked him.” Jungkook pouts, face drawn downwards and eyebrows pulled together.
Hoseok figures as much. Their coach was a very serious man, always pushing them to their limits and making sure that everyone’s focus was always on victory, all the time. There was no room for error in Coach Seo’s playbook.
“I didn’t expect him to come to be honest. Coach Seo is an excellent coach, but a terrible human being,” Hoseok says with a light laugh, just a puff of air passing through his lips. Jungkook agrees with a nod. “I’m glad you came though Kook, means a lot. Thank you.”
A shy smile forms on Jungkook’s face before it grows even bigger and his eyes light up as he lets go of Hoseok’s hand to reach inside his duffel. “Oh I forgot! I brought you something.”
Hoseok watches as Jungkook rummages through his bag, shoving aside his cleats, old protein bar wrappers, and multiple pairs of socks before finally procuring what seems to be a small white teddy bear. Jungkook presents the stuffed animal to Hoseok proudly, and Hoseok’s face breaks into a real genuine smile, the first one since he woke up from surgery. He takes the bear from Jungkook, squeezing it in both hands. He notices that the bear is even wearing a mini replica of their home jerseys, the tiny crest sporting that fierce blue tiger. Turning it over in his hands, he also notices that it even has his number on it, an eight embroidered on the fabric in clean, white thread.
“I picked it up from the gift shop at the stadium after practice today,” Jungkook says. “Thought you could use a friend while you recover.”
“This is incredibly cheesy, but I love it so much, oh my god, I’m never letting go of it.” Hoseok sniffles, pulling the bear up against his chest and wiggling from side to side. “You’re the best Kookie.”
Jungkook bends down to wrap his arms around Hoseok’s torso, mindful of the many tubes and wires still coming off of him. “You’re welcome hyung. Don’t worry too much about the team okay? No one’s mad at you, your injury wasn’t your fault. And I have the highest confidence in you that you’ll recover quickly and be back on the field soon.”
Using Jungkook’s shirt to subtly catch the few stray tears falling from his eyes, Hoseok makes some sort of hum of agreement, focusing more on his breathing and trying not to break down into a complete puddle of emotions.
They separate after a little bit, both of them restoring their masks of false confidence and assurance. Hoseok’s eyelids are starting to get heavy from the painkillers running through his IV, and he honestly feels like he wants to cuddle with his new teddy bear and sleep for a hundred years.
“Stay strong hyung!” Jungkook exclaims. “Fighting!” He puts his fists up in a timid show of encouragement, and Hoseok is just about to return the gesture when Jungkook brings his hands back down and pats Hoseok on the leg. Right on top of his freshly operated on knee.
Hoseok’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he takes in a deep, deep breath through his nose and exhales it in a very slow ‘ fuuuuuuuuucking hell’.
“Oh shit! I’m sorry hyung! Um, I’ll get a nurse, okay just like, don’t move. I got it, don’t worry!” Jungkook has his hands up, eyes blown wide and he twists repeatedly from side to side, seemingly looking for the nonexistent nurse in Hoseok’s room.
“The button Kook,” Hoseok whispers out. “Push the fucking button.”
“Ah right!” Jungkook lunges for the little remote control resting on the sheets and rams the help button on it multiple times until a nurse sprints into the room.
“Is someone dying?” the nurse asks.
“Might as fucking well be,” Hoseok curses out, while Jungkook frantically explains to the nurse how he had just injured his already injured friend, how he should go to jail for assault and oh my god, I’m too soft to be in a prison gang, look at this face.
Seemingly assured that no one was, in fact, dying, the nurse calmly walks over to Hoseok’s IV drip, adjusting it a little to let more painkillers flow through, and bringing a pillow out from the closet to place under Hoseok’s knees to prop his bandaged legs up.
“He’ll be fine,” the nurse says soothingly, and Jungkook takes her word for it, wiping his face tiredly with a sigh of oh thank goodness. “You should probably get home though sir, I’d rather you not accidentally injure your friend more. I don’t want to have to admit you to the hospital too because you stressed yourself out so much you had a panic attack. Also, visiting hours end in five minutes.”
Hoseok wholeheartedly agrees; the drugs are already flowing through his system are making him loopy and sleepy, and a he really hates how disembodied they make him feel. “Yeah get outta here, you owe me though you little shit.” The words all slur together and it’s probably not as powerful a statement as Hoseok thinks it is, but the message gets across to Jungkook, who nods again and backs out of the room with a cautious wave goodbye.
The nurse leaves Hoseok be, and Hoseok melts into the surrounding pillows, bringing the teddy bear, whom he has decided to name Dubu, closer to his chest as his eyes fall shut and he finally succumbs to sleep.
Unsurprisingly, Hoseok hates hospital food. It’s dry, there’s not nearly enough salt on anything, and they never give him enough rice. Thankfully, Jungkook pays Hoseok back for whacking him on the knee by constantly sneaking him some fried chicken and Sprite.
They’re in the middle of one of their snack sessions, chowing down on chicken legs and drinking Sprite straight from a two-liter bottle while watching highlights from some of the other World Cup qualifying matches, when Dr. Lee knocks on the door frame saying he has news.
“You’ll be discharged tomorrow!” Dr. Lee announces, clapping his hands and doing a little cheer. Hoseok emits a sigh of relief; he’s not entirely sure how much longer he could handle being cooped up in the same tiny room, staring at the same blank white walls. “I’ve come to give you some more information about the physical therapy sessions you’ll be starting once you get out. I’ve already set up a first appointment for you, at a place called Pivot Physical Therapy, they’re closely connected to the hospital and we send a lot of our patients there after surgery. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it a lot.”
Hoseok fights the urge to roll his eyes, since he’s not sure how much fun physical therapy can really be, but the look on Dr. Lee’s face is so bright there’s no way he can do anything else except smile and nod. “I’m looking forward to it doctor. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me so far.”
“Yeah thanks doc,” Jungkook says. “Coach Seo and everyone else on the team is grateful as well.”
“Just doing my job boys,” Dr. Lee tells them. He eyes the greasy food sitting on the tray table in front of Hoseok before adding, “I’ll make sure to not tell the nurses about your little snack here too, you know you’re not allowed to bring outside food in.”
Jungkook blushes red and looks down quickly to avoid the doctor’s eyes. “Sorry Dr. Lee.”
Dr. Lee chuckles before patting Jungkook on the back good-naturedly. “You’re just being a good friend, I understand son.” He turns to Hoseok. “Good friends like these will help greatly in your recovery!”
Hoseok smiles and laughs. “Yeah I guess he’s alright.”
“Well I’ll leave you to it then. Good luck with everything Hoseok-ssi. I look forward to seeing you back on the field soon.”
“Thank you again doctor.”
They get back to watching the highlights, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at some of the better goals, booing at some of the poor referee decisions. The box of chicken has been completely decimated, tossed carelessly onto the floor, and the bottle of Sprite lays between them, only a couple of sips left.
“Are you ready to get out of here?” Jungkook asks once the video is over.
“More than you know Kook,” Hoseok replies, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “There aren’t even any cute nurses.”
Jungkook laughs as he goes to pick up their trash and properly dispose of it. “I don’t know man, that one nurse that came in to offer you a sponge bath was pretty hot.”
“Old lady Kang? Oh goodness me, no,” Hoseok cackles as he remembers the stern older lady that came in the day before, gray hair tied up in a stiff bun, large yellow sponge in hand, and absolutely no joy in her face whatsoever as she asked whether or not Hoseok needed a deep cleaning. Hoseok had quickly shaken his head no, drawing the blankets up closer to his chin as the lady gave him a curt nod back and left as quickly as she came. It was a strange moment that Hoseok didn’t particularly enjoy recalling.
“Well you should probably keep it in your pants anyways, I don’t think you’ll be able to chase after anyone with these mummy legs here,” Jungkook says, eyes pointedly roaming up and down the bandages still covering Hoseok’s knees.
“I’ll chase after you and kick your ass if you don’t learn some respect you twat.”
Jungkook nearly doubles over in laughter, and Hoseok joins along, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he knew when he’d be able to leave this hellhole of a hospital. Even though Hoseok had only be admitted for a couple of days following his surgery, the building still held too many negative memories for Hoseok’s taste, the beeping of his heart rate monitor a constant reminder of where he was. No matter how many boxes of fried chicken Jungkook bought him, or how many videos they watched together trying to pretend they were just hanging out at one of their apartments, it was still very clear that Hoseok was in a hospital. Hoseok’s life had drastically changed here, and he was entirely convinced it was for the worse.
The next day, Hoseok awoke to the sounds of his mother entering his hospital room, and although he could tell that she was trying to be quiet about it, she was failing quite miserably. Everytime she accidentally bumped into something, or her shoes squeaked on the tile floors a bit too loudly, she would mutter out a soft oh fuck , which had Hoseok constantly fighting back a smile. His mother was a sweetheart, but he definitely got his loud personality and sailor’s mouth from her.
Hoseok feigns sleep for a little while longer, before slowly stirring and sitting up in his bed. His mother quietly walked to the his side and sat down in the chair Jungkook had left there the day before. “Did I wake you sweetie?”
“Of course not mom, after years of living with you, I’m used to you walking into any room like a bull in a china shop. You didn’t break anything too expensive this time right?”
His mother scoffs and lightly swats as her son in reprehension. “I haven’t seen you in months, and this is the type of hello I get?”
Laughter escapes Hoseok’s mouth, and he quickly rises up a bit more to wrap his mother up in a hug. “I missed you mom.”
“Missed you too, even if you are a bit of a brat.”
They separate and Hoseok’s mother fusses over his bedding and bandages, asking if he’s comfortable and if he needs her to get a nurse. Hoseok has to keep reminding her that he’s leaving today anyways and that one more pillow isn’t really going to change anything.
“I got a few weeks off from work, so I’ll be able to stay with you until you recover a little more,” Hoseok’s mother says. “Unfortunately, your father had to stay and work in the office, and take care of Mickey of course, but he may be able to come up one weekend if we’re lucky.”
Hoseok knows how difficult it must have been for his mother to be able to spend so much time out of work; as a floor manager in a grocery store, paid leave wasn’t exactly easy to come by. His father had it even worse as a software engineer for a large corporate company - something was always going wrong in the IT department. “It’s okay if he can’t make it, I understand. I’m just glad you’re here at the very least.”
“I’m glad too, time to get you eating some real food and not this cardboard shit they keep giving you in here.”
“Mom you can’t just say things like that.”
“What are they gonna do, sue me? I’d like to see them try,” Hoseok’s mother scoffs and crosses her arms, while Hoseok just chuckles lightly in response. Then his mother gets serious. “Are you really doing okay Hoseokie?”
Hoseok smiles brightly, trying to assuage his mother’s fears. “Yeah, they gave me these cool fluffy socks here, probably one of the only good things to come out of this.” Hoseok wiggles his toes for emphasis.
His mother gives him a tiny grin before pursing her lips and looking at her son knowingly. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about, sunshine. I mean are you doing okay with this whole ordeal, the rehab, the recovery, everything. Taking time off from soccer?”
The smile on Hoseok’s face falters briefly before Hoseok catches himself and turns the brightness level back up to full power. “Yeah I’m fine with it. I needed a break anyways.”
His mother doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, but it also seems like she doesn’t want to pester him anymore about it, for which Hoseok is grateful. He’s come to terms with the upcoming physical therapy, with taking time off from his sport, but he’s not so sure if he’s okay with what comes afterwards. What happens if he can’t get himself back to 100%? Soccer is all he knows, his entire life has been based around the sport, ever since he was thrown into a summer soccer camp when he was four years old. It had all been leading up to that game, the one that would guarantee him and his team a spot in the World Cup, and suddenly, all of his dreams were shattered in an instant. Hoseok isn’t sure what he would do with himself if he couldn’t go back to playing soccer. He hasn’t played in a couple of weeks, and he’s already feeling empty and lost. What’s he supposed to do if he can never play competitively again?
Hoseok finds himself rubbing Dubu’s ear while he mulls everything over, but his train of thought is interrupted by thunderous footsteps in the hallway, and a loud bang as Jungkook throws the door to his room open and tumbles inside.
“Hyung I have news!”
“Uh, cool Kook, but next time you have news could you possibly begin to tell me in a way that does not make my mother piss her pants? She’s old, her bladder is weak, please be considerate.”
Hoseok’s mother whacks him on the arm for that, and Jungkook quickly turns and gives her a deep bow before straightening up again and facing Hoseok. “Sorry hyung, but this is important!” Hoseok doesn’t even get the chance to tell him to continue before Jungkook yells out, “We made it through! We’re going to the World Cup!”
Hoseok’s jaw drops down and his eyes open wide, completely speechless. “Wha- wait, really?”
Jungkook nods excitedly, bouncing up and down on his toes. “Yeah, even though we only tied that game where you got injured, we went through because of the results of some of the other games and we ended up with the better overall record. Can you believe?”
Air still hasn’t quite found it’s way back into Hoseok’s lungs, and if it weren’t for the heart rate monitor beeping erratically by his side, he would have thought that he had passed out. His mother is the one that speaks first, congratulating Jungkook before smacking the back of Hoseok’s head so that he snaps out of his trance. “Holy shit, no way, that’s… that’s crazy. Oh my god, is this really happening? We’re really going to the World Cup?”
“We are!! We really, really are!” Jungkook exclaims. “You got us there hyung though, don’t forget that. I know you may or may not be able to play because of everything, but just remember, you were the driving force behind us making it as far as we did. We probably wouldn’t have even been close to qualifying if it hadn’t been for you, and the goals you scored in the other games. Everyone’s proud of you hyung.”
A tidal wave of emotions hits Hoseok all at once, and he’s not entirely sure how to react. Happiness that his country was going through to the World Cup, obviously, pride that his teammates think so highly of him, but also, sadness that he wouldn’t be able to join them in their quest for the cup. It was all a lot to handle. “This is all just… crazy. You guys better not let me down. I know I’ll be in recovery but I’ll still kick each and every one of your asses if you fuck up.”
Jungkook gives him a full bellied laugh before confirming that he’ll try to make sure everyone works hard while Hoseok is away. Just then, Dr. Lee comes in with a couple of nurses, announcing that it was time for Hoseok to go home. His mother and one of the nurses helps him into a wheelchair, Hoseok making sure he grabs Dubu to hold in his lap, and Jungkook takes over the job of wheeling him out to the parking lot while Dr. Lee discusses paperwork with his mom.
“You’re gonna do great in physical therapy hyung. Gonna make it your bitch.”
“Please, you are a child, never curse like that again.”
After signing off on everything, Hoseok’s mother joins them outside, telling them to wait by the curb as she pulls the car around. Jungkook basically drags Hoseok by the armpits into the backseat of the car, adjusting him so that he’s sitting comfortably with his legs stretched out in front of him, Dubu still held tightly in his hands. The wheelchair and a pair of crutches are tossed into the trunk.
Once he’s settled in, Hoseok’s mom gets into the driver’s seat and Jungkook slides into the passenger seat, having offered to help her get Hoseok into the apartment.
“Say goodbye to the hospital and all the nice doctors, sunshine,” Hoseok’s mom says, glancing at him in the rearview mirror with a smirk on her face.
“I’m not a kid mom, why would I do that,” Hoseok mumbles, but as they’re pulling out of the parking lot, Hoseok raises up his middle fingers and whispers so long mother fuckers . He’s glad to be out of that suffocating building.
A few weeks of constant bedrest and incessant chatter from his mother later, Hoseok finds himself in front of the Pivot Physical Therapy building. He’s still in his wheelchair, since he hasn’t quite figured out how to maneuver himself around on two crutches with his stiff, weak legs. A couple of days after he had been discharged, he had returned to the hospital to be fitted with a pair of clunky knee braces. Jungkook had taken the liberty to decorate them with little flame stickers he had bought at the stationary store down the street, but Hoseok still hated how awkward and confined they made him feel. They had helped tremendously in being able to bend his legs, but his muscles had worn down considerably since the accident and Hoseok was still very unsteady on his feet. Hence why his mother had just dropped him off at his first physical therapy appointment.
Hoseok wheels himself towards the sliding glass doors, which were thankfully automatic and whirred open quickly upon Hoseok’s approach. He makes his way to the front desk, where he can see a young girl with eyes almost as big as Jungkook’s sitting behind the counter. Since he’s sitting down, his own eyes can barely see over onto the other side, but luckily, the girl sees him and hurriedly stands up and rushes around the counter to speak with him.
“Welcome to Pivot Physical Therapy, how can I help you today?”
Hoseok swallows, his throat unnecessarily dry and parched. He had no idea why he was so nervous, it was just physical therapy, nothing was going to go wrong. But alas, his hands were still clammy and he could feel sweat dampening his brow as he opens his mouth to respond to the receptionist. “Hi, um, I have an appointment at 9:30? Um, Dr. Lee from Seoul National University Hospital should have made the appointment for me.”
“Oh okay, just one second, lemme check the system!” the girl says cheerfully, before dashing back behind the counter to type some things into the computer. “Are you Jung Hoseok-ssi?”
“Ah yes, that’s me.”
“Perfect! I’ll just have you fill out some paperwork, and then the therapist should call you back soon.” The girl returns to Hoseok’s side with a few sheets of paper on a clipboard, along with a pen. “My name’s Jihyo, I see that you’re scheduled for a few months of PT so I’ll be seeing you a lot. Let me know if you need anything!”
Jihyo’s smile was a little too much for Hoseok to handle, he was already feeling miserable and his appointment hadn’t even started yet. He gives her a simple nod and wheels himself to the opposite wall to fill out the forms, biting his fingernails as he does so. When he’s done he turns them back in to Jihyo and goes back to his spot by the wall. There’s a TV in the corner that’s playing a constant loop of instructional and educational videos about PT, and Hoseok really just wants some peace and quiet to try and mentally prepare himself for his appointment.
Around ten minutes later, the door next to the front desk swings open, startling Hoseok in his seat. A man steps out from behind the door, and the first thing Hoseok notices about him are the garish, hot pink scrubs he has on. Actually, that’s probably the only thing Hoseok notices about him since they’re so obnoxious and bright. He’s still staring at the guy’s midsection as he steps up to face Hoseok with a little cough.
Hoseok’s eyes are finally diverted from the onslaught of pink as he glances up to look the man in the eyes. His plump lips are pursed in unamusement, and his eyebrows themselves seem to say hello yes, I’m wearing pink scrubs, continue staring at them and I’ll gouge your eyes out. What comes out of the man’s mouth is fortunately a lot less morbid than that.
“Jung Hoseok-ssi?”
“Huh?” Hoseok snaps out of his daze, forcing himself to make eye contact with the man so he wouldn’t seem like a complete nutcase.
“If you’re done checking me out, I can take you back to where the exercise rooms are so we can better discuss your physical therapy plan,” the man says, a smirk painted onto his face and hands placed on his hips.
“I wasn’t - oh my god, I swear I wasn’t checking you out, I was just… surprised by all the pink,” Hoseok sputters, eyes darting to the ground and cheeks heating up in a blush.
“Hmm yeah, the pink matches my lips, don’t you think?” the man asks, pursing his lips out in emphasis.
“Yeah…” Hoseok responds, still in a bit of a daze. “I mean, what, no, I wouldn’t know, how could I know, I haven’t been staring at them… or anything…”
Pink scrubs man laughs, and it’s a whole-body affair, his hand slapping his thigh as he doubles over, loud squeaks coming out of his mouth that makes him sound like a dolphin. Hoseok just stares in confusion.
“Oh man, the newbies always get so riled up when I flirt with them. It’s so fun. Oh, you are just too cute, look how red you are,” the man says. “Isn’t he adorable Jihyo?”
Jihyo glances over from the front desk. “Super, but could you be gentle with him? He looks like he’s about to piss his pants, and he’s already got two lame legs, give him a break. Have mercy on his poor heart.”
There comes a great sigh from the man, as if doing what Jihyo says is the absolute worst thing he could ever imagine. “Fine, ruin my fun you wet blanket.” Jihyo gives him a sound of indignation, but Seokjin ignores it and turns back to Hoseok. “I’m Kim Seokjin by the way. I’ve been assigned to your case so I’ll probably be the one you’ll be working with the most here. Let’s get along well, okay?”
Hoseok swallows audibly, still mildly embarrassed, but he nods, and then Seokjin walks around the side of his wheelchair to push him towards the back rooms.
“So most of the time when you’re here for your appointments we’ll be in here, in the Green Room, so aptly named for its hideous puke green wall paint,” Seokjin says, gesturing to the left. Hoseok turns and can see a large room filled with multiple exercise balls and other various forms of workout equipment, a rack of resistance bands on the far wall and some weights stacked over in the corner. The floor is covered by soft mats and there’s even a mini trampoline. And yes, the room has been painted a horrendous shade of green that hurts Hoseok’s eyes to look at.
They continue on, Seokjin showing him the Red Room, which is full of an assortment of machines, such as treadmills and bikes, and another contraption with some sort of pulley system on it that looks way too complicated for Hoseok to even think about trying to figure out. Then, the Yellow Room, which has a bunch of tables lined up all in a row, a large smiling sun painted on the back wall. And finally, the Blue Room, which has a small pool for water therapy and aquatic exercises. Hoseok can see a group of older gentlemen following the instructions of a very bored looking assistant with mint green hair that clashes horribly with his purple scrubs.
They reach the end of the hall, where there are a few offices and some supply closets. It’s not a huge place, but Hoseok is already feeling overwhelmed.
“And there we have it! Pivot Physical Therapy, the road to recovery starts here! Are you ready Hoseok-ssi?” Seokjin asks, hands on his hips as he stands in front of Hoseok’s wheelchair.
“Um,” Hoseok starts. “Maybe?”
“Fantastic, I love the positive attitude,” Seokjin replies. “Let’s get to it!”
They return to the Green Room, and Seokjin helps Hoseok out of the wheelchair and onto one of the floor mats. Hoseok is still wearing his braces, so Seokjin carefully takes those off too and places them off to the side.
“So I read your file and I know you just got out of surgery a little while ago. We’ll just see where you’re at in terms of your mobility, okay?”
Hoseok’s hair sticks to the mat as he nods, flexing his fingers awkwardly at his sides. Seokjin smiles and picks up Hoseok’s left foot, pushing it experimentally in towards his torso so that his knee bends. It hurts, since everything is so stiff from not having been used in weeks, but Hoseok tries to not let it show on his face too much. Seokjin gives him a head bob of approval before moving on to his right side. Hoseok’s breath gets caught in his throat when Seokjin starts moving his leg; the right knee was the one that was damaged more in the incident, and it clearly shows when Seokjin isn’t able to bend the knee more than a few degrees before Hoseok lets out a pained whimper.
Gently, Seokjin places Hoseok’s leg back onto the mat. “Well, your right side is clearly a little worse than your left, but we’ll work on them both and soon they’ll be better than ever before. How did you injure yourself anyways? Your file didn’t say much about how you got hurt, only that you had to have surgery almost right away.”
Hoseok is a little miffed that Seokjin doesn’t know who he is. “Do you not know who I am?”
Seokjin’s eyebrows furrow together and his lips come together in a pout. “Um… should I?”
A little bit of a dagger to his pride, but it’s okay, Hoseok understands. Soccer is a pretty big sport in Korea, but Hoseok guesses that maybe Seokjin is a bit more of a baseball fan, or maybe just doesn’t like sports in general.
“I’m on the Korean national soccer team,” Hoseok explains. “I was playing in a World Cup qualifying match when I got injured in a hard tackle. And so, here we are.”
“Oh,” Seokjin says. “You’re one of those.”
“One of what?”
Seokjin sighs, sits back on his heels and crosses his arms. “One of those professionals that thinks they know everything about recovery. That thinks they know how to exercise properly so why should I show them how to do it? Why should I help them out so that they don’t injure themselves more, since they know better .”
“I don’t think…”
But Seokjin cuts Hoseok off before he can defend himself. “Just know this mister, I went to school for this. I spent years of my life studying that I probably could’ve spent as an actor or a model, I mean, come on look at this face, can’t you see it modeling new smartphones or fried chicken? I’d be perfect. But instead I learned how to help injured people like you get better, because I care . Isn’t that nice of me?”
Hoseok shrinks back further into the mat. “So… nice…”
“And I’ll be damned if I get another Neymar wannabe in here trying to tell me how to do my job. So you better listen to me, got it?”
“Uh… yes… sir?” Hoseok tries, feeling awkward and a little uncomfortable. He’s not even bitter about the face that Seokjin knew who Neymar was but he didn’t know who he was, he’s too focused on not getting burnt by the smoke coming out of Seokjin’s ears.
Seokjin seems to realize that he’s gone a bit off the deep end and snaps out of it, eyes focusing again on Hoseok’s bewildered expression. “I’m sorry, I went a little overboard didn’t I? We just had this other guy come start therapy a little while ago, not a professional like you, just a guy who hurt himself doing something stupid, but because he plays in his neighborhood’s soccer league and works out on the regular, he thought he knew what to do. He ended up going too hard and stressing his injury even more, so his recovery time got extended.”
“Oh.”
“I guess I just heard the word soccer and snapped. Sorry.”
“No problem. I don’t even like Neymar.”
Seokjin snorts through his nose and smiles. “Good.”
They get back to some gentle workouts, just trying to see where Hoseok’s limits are so Seokjin can get a better understanding of how far he has to go before he can be considered completed recovered. After an hour or so of bending his sore knees and stretching out his stiff joints, Hoseok is beat. Seokjin guides him back into his wheelchair and pushes him back out into the lobby, where Hoseok’s mother is sitting in one of the chairs.
“We’ll get you out of that chair soon, okay? Get you back on your feet in no time,” Seokjin gives him a thumbs up before his head whips to the side. “Are those Hani’s hotteok’s I smell?” He rushes over to the front desk where an older lady is holding a foil-covered plate. “I forgot it was treat day! Mondays are the best because of you Hani-ssi.”
The lady, Hani, laughs and tosses her hair back behind her shoulder. “I have to thank you guys somehow for always dealing with my Heechul.”
“It’s not me that has to deal with him, it’s Yoongi,” Seokjin says, mouth already stuffed full with hotteok. “But I’ll gladly take his share since he’s not here.”
The back door swings open and Hoseok sees the mint haired boy from before standing in the entryway. “You get your hands off my hotteok you greedy little bastard.”
“Who you calling little, short stuff?” Seokjin sticks his tongue out, which is, disgustingly, covered in sugar and syrup, before grabbing the plate from Hani’s hands and holding it high above his head. “See if you can reach them when they’re all the way up here tiny Hobbit man!”
Hoseok is stunned, still sitting in his wheelchair where Seokjin left him, jaw dropped in surprise. His mother looks amused by it all at least.
One of the older gentlemen from the aquatic class Hoseok peeked in on comes through the back door, nudging the now fuming boy in purple scrubs in the side. “You go in from the left and I’ll take the right. We’re getting those hotteoks.”
Both of the men lunge towards Seokjin, who lets out a shriek and nearly drops the plate on Hani’s head, before taking off in a sprint towards the back rooms. They all disappear behind the door and the front office is suddenly filled with silence, save for a few muffled yells coming from behind the door.
Jihyo stands up from behind the counter and claps her hands. “Well then! What a day huh? And it’s only 11! Did your first appointment go well Hoseok-ssi?”
Hoseok shakes his head and turns to look at Jihyo. “Um yeah, went great.”
“Perfect! Your next appointment is on Thursday, try to rest up so you can be ready to go!”
“Okay…” Hoseok trails off and glances to the side at Hani, who’s standing there shaking her head and looking at her watch.
“I swear, every damn time I bring in those godforsaken hotteoks it always ends like this. Jihyo, I’m gonna go drag Heechul back out here, we have a lunch appointment and I am not missing out on that meat just because my husband has the mentality of a five year old.”
She stalks off towards the back rooms, rolling up her sleeves along the way. There’s some more muted screeches, and a few exclaimed curses, but Hani eventually resurfaces with Heechul in tow, an ear held between he strong fingers. “We’ll be going now, thank you Jihyo. Tell Seokjin and Yoongi to stop fighting.”
“Probably won’t happen, but I’ll pass along the message. Have a good day!” Jihyo sends them off with a bright smile.
Suddenly, a head pops out from behind the back door.
“It was great meeting you Hoseok-ssi! See you at your next appointment!” Seokjin yells out, before letting out an oof as he’s seemingly dragged back, chestnut brown hair disappearing as the door slowly closes shut. “Yoongi, I’ll give you some of the hotteok, jeez, no need to get so handsy.”
And that’s how Hoseok’s first physical therapy appointment ends, a little chaotic, but positive. He’s hopeful that maybe he will actually fully recover and get to return back to the field. He hasn’t felt this optimistic since his operation, the bright lights and stifling atmosphere of the hospital sucked all of his cheerfulness away, but he thinks that physical therapy will not only get his body back on track, but his mind too.