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A dull, persistent drumming, the murmur of hushed voices, and a lack of feeling in his right arm and lower body—that was all Namjoon felt as he drifted in and out of consciousness. A black nothingness enveloped his mind. Slowly, he began to gain more of his senses. A faint beeping trilled in his left ear, a thin sheet blanketed his lower body and half his torso, leaving his upper chest exposed.
Namjoon’s left eye fluttered open to a blindingly white light staring down at him. Searing into his retinas, forcing his eye closed again. He groaned as he tried to remember the last thing that happened to him. He saw a stranger’s face—no, not a stranger’s, a familiar face. Soft, boyish and grinning. Namjoon could only assume the owner of this face was an acquaintance of his. The image of the young teen in his mind made the corner of his lip curl up. As he dug deeper into his recent memories, he recalled a sharp pain and an even greater pain, an all-encompassing one, and then nothing. Namjoon flinched and sunk himself deeper into whatever plush material he was currently laying on.
Whatever happened to Namjoon must’ve been what put him here. Every sound around him seemed as if he were hearing them through 100 feet of water, it was dizzying and disorientating. Namjoon couldn’t keep himself above the raging tides of unconsciousness, and after a feeble attempt to stay awake, he succumbed to a deep sleep.
“Hyung.”
“Hyung, hyungie .”
“Namjoonie hyung.”
A lighthearted voice was what finally woke Namjoon. The most immediately noticeable thing was that his body felt as heavy as lead and as immovable as stone. A throbbing ache in his head and numbness in his body drew him to the conclusion that he was recovering from some particularly bad flu. It was the most logical answer, of course. Namjoon had memories of his body feeling like this when he was very sick as a child, so he figured this must be like one of those times.
“Hyung, I know you can hear me. The surgeon said you were all ready,” the same voice whimpered, obviously wanting Namjoon to get up. Surgeon ? That didn’t make any sense, surgery wasn’t needed to get over a nasty bug.
Namjoon opened an eye, his left one again, to the image of a teenager with fluffy black hair, an infectious grin, and round, concerned doe eyes peering down at him. A name forced its way into Namjoon’s head: Jeon Jeongguk .
He recognized that name.
“J-jeongguk,” Namjoon managed to croak out, his vocal cords not making the sound he had intended.
The boy Namjoon knew as Jeongguk tensed and placed a hand over the sheet partially covering his legs and torso. “No wait, it’s okay, don’t say anything.” Jeongguk darted his gaze to the floor and mumbled, “Doctor said not to.”
Namjoon gave a slight nod and attempted to prop himself and sit upright. He used his left hand to balance behind him and his right to push himself up, except the second part was much harder to do. Instead of fluidly placing his hand against the plush and shifting his weigh on his arm and shoulder, Namjoon’s right side barely moved. Confused, Namjoon shifted what he could of his body so he could get a clear view of his right arm. What he saw almost made him fall unconscious again.
A patchwork of metal and wires covering his right hand, arm, and shoulder met his gaze. As his eyes traveled down his body, he realized that the entire right side of his body was imbued in silver. The sheet was thin enough so that he could see metal where his legs and feet should be. The realization didn’t hit Namjoon all at once, it was more like a series of waves. Why was there a bunch of machinery covering his limbs? Incredulous, Namjoon huffed a small laugh. He tried moving his legs to stand up, but the most he could muster was moving one of them a few inches. Okay, what was going on? The question was echoing in his mind, but he had a terrible suspicion of what was going on. Namjoon’s heart crept up in his chest, he turned to Jeongguk who was nervously biting his lip and twiddling his fingers.
“Jeo-Jeong...guk,” Namjoon stammered. His voice sounded strange and alien. It was still distinctly his own, but very altered. Almost robotic. “What h-hap…”
“I’m sorry,” the younger said, his gaze downcast. “There was nothing else they could do. They… the engineers working on you aren’t finished yet, but they will be soon.”
Namjoon stared in horror at the bits of loose wiring sticking out from his mechanical body. Practically everything was replaced with circuits and wires. Namjoon raised his left hand—the only hand that was still flesh and bone—and touched his face. Just as he suspected, the left side of his visage was unchanged. He felt his cheekbones, his nose, his eye, and his eyebrow; but as his touch traveled across his face, it grew colder and unfamiliar. Namjoon knew he was feeling nothing but cool metal. He slowly blinked his right eye, the sound of mechanical whirring working in his head met his hearing.
Hand falling limp at his side, Namjoon’s breathing began to grow more erratic and heavy. He whipped his head towards Jeongguk and opened his mouth to say something, but any thought that might have formed in his throat died as he let out a high pitched but quiet sob. His mind didn’t know how to process this—whatever this was.
Jeongguk’s hopeful facade cracked when he heard Namjoon’s cry.
“No, no, please don’t, hyung, it’ll be okay,” he said, voice breaking as he attempted to comfort Namjoon. “You can’t cry now,” and in a lower, trembling voice, he added, “I don’t know if you’re allowed to get water on the open circuits.”