Chapter Text
Jimin is sprawled across the rug at the foot of his bed, trying to muster the energy to get up and shower after a particularly grueling dance lesson that night, when he gets the text message. He'd always considered himself a perfectionist throughout his dancing career, but the teenagers in the class he's been teaching for a few weeks this spring are already putting him to shame, constantly staying after sessions and badgering him for pointers when they're already so incredibly talented. The thin rug and hard ground beneath him are almost soothing against his sore muscles, and he sighs and wonders whether he can get away with not showering, just laying here and begging Taehyung to drag him out to the sidewalk and hose him down later. Probably not the best plan, since it'd be dark by the time his best friend got home, and it'd alarm the neighbours or something. He's wearily resigning himself to getting up when his phone chimes loudly beside him, and he slides it towards him, almost drops it on his face precariously, then frowns at the text messages from an unknown number.
(5:49) oh my God okay listen
(5:49) you're about to get a call okay you have to LIE TO THE NURSE
(5:50) you say YES you tell her you're just down the hall in the cafeteria and say you’ll pick me up once I'm done
(5:50) PLEASE don't blow this for me I NEED this surgery
Jimin blinks at his phone, bewildered. The number is a local area code, the same as his own, but the number isn't familiar and he scans the message again, confused. A nurse? What did they mean don't blow this for me, why would-
(5:52) okay?? you HAVE to say it
(5:52) WILL YOU SAY IT?
(5:53) please you have to
Jimin raises himself slowly onto an elbow, staring. What's happening?
(5:53) I NEED THIS SURGERY
(5:54) YOU HAVE TO SAY IT
His phone suddenly trills his ringtone for an incoming call, and this time he does drop it on his face, swearing when the corner of his phone case lands hard against his cheekbone, and his face throbs as he snatches for his phone and holds it up. A different unknown number is calling, and he shouldn't answer, he shouldn't answer but... Jimin balefully gazes across the room at the door to the shower, and lets himself flop back down onto the carpet. Gingerly, Jimin swipes to answer, transferring it to speaker. The voice that rings from it is crisp and official.
"Good evening, I'm Nurse Lee calling from Outpatient Surgery, is this Kim Seokjin, emergency contact for Min Yoongi?"
Jimin scrambles up to sitting, eyes wide. What the hell? His phone vibrates furiously between his fingers, rapid text messages appearing at the top of the screen in the expectant silence of the nurse.
(5:56) SAY YES
(5:56) DAMN IT NOW SAY YES
(5:56) PLEASE
Jimin's heart is pounding, and he stares wildly around the room as if the haphazard laundry basket or messy desk or neatly made bed will give him any answers. His phone vibrates again.
(5:57) SAY YES SAY YES RIGHT NOW
And he doesn't know what makes him say it, but Jimin finds himself stammering, "Um yes, I'm - um, yeah, this is - this is him."
The nurse's irritation rings over the line, and Jimin winces.
"Family and friends accompanying patients were instructed to remain in the waiting room during the procedure."
Jimin can feel himself sweating nervously, entirely out of the loop of anything going on, and he clicks quickly into the conversation, scrolls to the initial message in panic.
"Yes, sorry, I'm - I'm just down the hall in the - the cafeteria. But I'll... I'll definitely pick up, um..." Jimin's eyes widen in horror. What was the name? His mind is blank in his panic - oh God, what was the name? Min something? He can't remember, he can't remember- "I'll pick him up as soon as it's, um... over."
“Please bring your food back and eat it in the waiting room.” The nurse sighs impatiently. “I’ll plan to check in with you once Yoongi is in recovery to fill you in on how the procedure went, and then you can wait until he’s ready to be taken home.” She pauses, and Jimin jolts upright. Is he meant to say something now? Is he supposed to know what’s going on? What the hell has he gotten himself into? Then she’s going on, deliberate and matter-of-fact. “He won’t be able to be on his own for at least twelve hours after that, not even in the room by himself. I’ll review wound care with you at discharge and explain exactly what to be on the lookout for.”
Jimin’s anxiety is mounting, and this isn’t even anyone he knows or anything he’s going to be responsible for, but even theoretically, even whatever kind of bizarre involvement he has in all this, he’s getting stressed the longer this nurse talks, as direct as she’s being. He realizes she’s been silent a moment too long, waiting for something, and he coughs.
“Um right, yes. Okay, I’ll - I’ll do that?” He grimaces when it sounds more like a question, and the nurse sighs again.
“I’ll see you soon.” It’s more an order than a farewell, barked before she hangs up, and he sits stunned for a moment before he swiftly clicks into the conversation with the unknown number that had messaged, dialing to call. The call is declined immediately, and he scowls. Who is this person to demand he lie to a nurse for him and then just-
(6:04) THANKS wow can’t believe you pulled it off
(6:04) okay we’re good thanks again
(6:05) ?? we are NOT good?? explain???
(6:06) oh yeah sorry i gave them a random phone number I didnt think theyd call and check
(6:07) they couldnt just take my word for it that my bf is out in the waiting room? had to call and confirm? smh
(6:08) ngl I was thinking she'd be a homophobe and not wanna call once i said bf smh that backfired on me anyway thanks I owe you one
Jimin pinches the bridge of his nose, glaring at his phone.
(6:08) that?? explains nothing??
(6:09) oh my bad
(6:09) the nurse just needed to think I have someone here to take me home
(6:10) I lied and said my roommate was here and also lied and said he was my bf lol
(6:10) anyways just dont answer when she calls back, whats she gonna do undo the surgery?
(6:11) what??
(6:11) why?? did I lie to a nurse???
(6:12) they wont let me do the surgery unless someone can take me home
(6:12) for like liability or whatever
(6:13) in case i dont wake up or bleed out at home later or whatever
(6:13) honestly my pain day to day has been worse and worse like
(6:13) i need this surgery so bad
(6:14) why am I pretending to be kim seokjin?? where is he to make sure you dont die after surgery??
(6:15) jin is out of town rn hes just the first person i thought of
(6:15) then ?? whos actually gonna go over wound care with your nurse and take you home after surgery??
(6:16) idk anyway you dont have to answer when she calls back, you're all set
Jimin stares at the conversation on his phone, reeling.
(6:17) how are you even getting home??
(6:17) oh idk ill call a cab or something
(6:18) youll WHAT??
(6:18) after SURGERY??
(6:19) okay theyre gonna take me back for surgery now gtg thanks again bye
Jimin finds himself on his feet without remembering leaping up, pulse racing.
(6:19) WAIT
(6:19) WAIT WHAT IS
(6:20) YOUR PLAN SUCKS WHAT??
(6:20) I WOULDNT HAVE AGREED TO THIS IF I KNEW YOU WERE
(6:20) WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENS AFTER SURGERY
(6:21) THEY HAVE THAT RULE FOR A REASON
(6:21) GET BACK HERE ILL CALL THE NURSE BACK
Jimin runs a hand through his hair, feeling frantic.
(6:22) oh my God youre gonna have gone through this whole thing to get surgery and then fall out of bed after and die
(6:22) and its gonna be on my conscience for lying to a nurse
(6:23) oh my God whats even happening
(6:23) I'm calling the nurse back
One useless phone call later, Jimin finds himself pacing past the foot of his bed again, anxiety building.
(6:26) ??? I tried calling back but it just goes to the general hospital number I dont remember the nurses name or yours God what the hell
(6:26) you need someone to take care of you after surgery whats wrong with you
(6:27) taxi home after surgery and then what??
(6:27) whats the wound care can you even go up the stairs if you have stairs if you
(6:28) I'm so stressed out IM SO STRESSED OUT
(6:28) oh my God you're probably getting surgery already what do I
(6:29) what do I do
(6:36) okay okay okay
(6:37) something insane is the answer apparently
(6:38) but you were insane first with this entire stupid plan so
(6:45) I'm gonna go take a shower then I'm driving there so
(6:46) if you're secretly a serial killer and this is a lure, you got me
There’s a bleariness to what Yoongi can hear and see when he wakes up after the surgery, and a discomfort that isn’t quite pain, more pressure. His head feels hazy as Nurse Lee rattles off the same questions he fights to focus enough to answer, and they finally let him eat and drink for the first time since yesterday which definitely helps clear his head that much more. He drifts off twice more before he’s moved from the recovery room to a regular room for discharge, and when the doctor assures him the surgery was a success and went smoothly, he also affirms that Yoongis extreme sleepiness is normal too. Yoongi scowls, thinking of his original plan to drive himself home afterwards, which definitely wouldn’t have been safe with his shifting consciousness and the way his eyes drift closed between blinks without his consent. Nurse Lee had doubted him earlier, and he huffs frustratedly when she nudges the doctor and motions to Yoongi.
“That boyfriend of his did head back from the cafeteria about an hour ago, I can go over the discharge and wound care instructions with him when I sign the patient out.”
Yoongi furrows his brow, less hazy now. Whoever she'd seen sitting in the waiting room, the nurse was definitely mistaking them as waiting for Yoongi, and he really doesn’t need her realizing that mistake now. As she eases him into a wheelchair and gathers his belongings into a plastic bag, Yoongi’s sluggish mind whirls, trying to think of the best way to tip off whoever is in the waiting room. If he can convince them to play along just for a few minutes, just long enough to wheel out of the hospital doors, then he could call a cab, get home, sleep it off, all without having to bother anyone. It could work, it would have to. He nods weakly and tries to smile convincingly when she quietly murmurs that his boyfriend is very handsome and seems very attentive, and he rasps that he's very lucky, and twists his fingers together. He wonders, as she prints and gathers the materials for his discharge folder, if there will be enough family members waiting in the lobby that the person she had mistaken might just be gone by now, if he could just claim another, or get away with saying Jin had messaged him he was in the bathroom and get her to leave him to wait, or…
But there are only a handful of people in the waiting room when the nurse carefully wheels him around the corner, and he assesses them as swiftly as his painkiller-dulled mind can handle. There's a young girl bundled in a thick jacket in the corner, a couple huddled closely beside the television, a man with bright pink hair in a grey hoodie anxiously bouncing his leg, another man in a brown collared shirt reading a magazine several chairs down, but no, he has a baby carrier at his feet, that can't be who the nurse thought, could it? There's an elderly woman in the corner half-asleep, and the only other occupant is a middle-aged man pacing anxiously by the far doors.
But the nurse is very clearly steering them directly towards the pink-haired boy, and Yoongi takes a moment to cynically huff internally, that of course she would assume the one with brightly coloured hair is the gay one. Not that Yoongi wouldn't have at the very least fervently hoped so himself, in any other circumstance, because the boy is - well, beautiful. His features are angular and delicate, and Yoongi doesn't understand how someone can look so attractive being that obviously exhausted, wearing just a hoodie and leggings - though Yoongi notes with interest, the leggings do reveal incredible legs. Then he jolts himself out of the pointless bleary thoughts and realizes he has less than three seconds to figure out how to silently and inconspicuously get this man to - to play along, to pretend they know each other, to pretend he's here for him - and he has approximately zero ideas how to do so. As it is, their eyes lock for a split second when the wheelchair direction and trajectory make it clear they're heading for him, and Yoongi desperately tries to convey everything in his probably highly unsettling glare, tries to raise his eyebrows, tries to jerk his head up in a gesture at the nurse.
"Kim Seokjin." Nurse Lee says when they reach him, and the speed at which he leaps to his feet bewilders Yoongi, but not as much as his immediate nod of confirmation - what the hell? - or his immediate, concerned, "How did he do?"
Yoongi’s jaw drops, and he stares up, bewildered, because that was - that was way too quick on the uptake. What the hell? The man’s delicate features are intensely focused and attentive as the nurse rattles off wound care, and Yoongi is reeling, not helped at all by the lingering fuzziness in his head, the heaviness of his limbs and his eyes. How had the man known to play along, how had he - he had reacted to the name instantly, he - Yoongi blinks hard, runs a dazed hand through his hair. Could it be that this man’s name is also Kim Seokjin, that he - but even so, he’d seen the wheelchair with Yoongi in it and had been unphased, as if they knew each other, why would he - why was he -
Yoongi almost doesn't notice she’s finished walking them through the aftercare instructions - crap , he hadn’t absorbed any of that, what's he meant to look out for, how soon can he take the medications? She had to have written it down right, somewhere in the endless papers she had printed? His head blurs and sways and he wonders vaguely if he'll even be able to read them. Then she's gently patting his good shoulder, leaning down beside him.
“Get plenty of rest and heal well, Yoongi.” Nurse Lee says kindly, then points a finger at the man. “Take good care of him, Kim Seokjin.”
“Always.” The man calls back with a firm nod and a smile, and Yoongi stares too obviously, gaping when the man carefully unlocks the wheels on his wheelchair and tucks the discharge papers under his arm to push Yoongi to the elevators in silence. The moment the doors have closed behind them, Yoongi whirls in his chair, hissing venemously.
“What the hell-”
There’s a phone being shoved in his face, and the elevators chimes distantly as they pass another floor, and Yoongi's eyes slowly focus on the text conversation he’s being shown.
(5:49) oh my God okay listen
(5:49) you're about to get a call okay you have to SAY YES
“If anyone should be asking what the hell, it’s me.” He mutters from above Yoongi, and Yoongi twists around incredulously.
“You’re… the random number I gave surgery? What the hell are you doing here?”
“You need someone to take care of you for a few hours after surgery, the nurse said it wasn’t safe for you to be alone.”
Yoongi rears back in his chair. “I need what?"
The man's plush lip gleams white for a moment where he bites it as he shifts in place uncomfortably, then the doors are sliding open and he’s guiding Yoongi’s chair through the main lobby. Yoongi wonders distantly, if he shouted about being kidnapped, what would happen.
“I’m not telling you where I live.” Yoongi spits, disbelieving. “I don’t even know you.”
“I’m Jimin.”
It’s offered so easily and casually, a light smile that shines too brightly for the dull parking lot they’re exiting into, and Yoongi scowls.
“That doesn’t tell me anything, you could easily be lying, I’m not letting you into my house when-”
“Fine, we’ll go to my place, you can rest up there.” Jimin says, tilting his head back as the evening breeze lifts pink strands to float around his forehead and ears. “Fair warning, though, I have a roommate, and he can be a bit loud, so-”
“I’m not-” Yoongi splutters, “I’m not going to your place, I’m-”
In a split second, the wheelchair has pivoted and they’re headed back towards the main doors of the surgery center. “Then maybe I should go back up and let the nurses know you lied and they actually need to keep you a few more hours. I thought you might prefer your bed, but if-”
“Don’t.” Yoongi growls, raising a hand to press against his forehead as his head throbs vaguely, pressing the other against his stomach as he feels a disquieting undercurrent of faint nausea.
When Jimin kneels down in front of him, almost at eye level, Yoongi tries to drop his gaze, but finds he can’t tear his eyes away. "Yoongi, I really…" Jimin looks painfully earnest, too genuine. "I really just want to make sure you're okay. You just had surgery, and you should be cared for after, should have someone with you so that you can rest and recover well. I don't want anything to happen to you when you're alone and hurt."
Yoongi tries to maintain his hostile glare, but it's too much energy he doesn't have, and he can't come up with a way out of this until the high duty post-op drugs have worn off more. What are the odds, really, that this man is a creep or a serial killer? Yoongi's shoulder is throbbing, and his head is swimming, so he can't bring himself to push away the thought of "a creep, looking like that?"
"Fine." Yoongi finally relents, frowning. "We go to my house." He raises a finger in warning, though he thinks it might be trembling and look less intimidating than he's working for. "But I'm keeping my friend on the line the entire time."
"Sure." Jimin agrees amicably, and Yoongi fumbles with his bag until he can yank out his phone, trying to shoot warning looks at Jimin in the meantime but possibly not succeeding as Jimin only looks faintly amused. The screen is too bright even on the lowest setting, and Yoongi scrolls to Jin's contact name and hovers his finger over the call button. He shakes his head at himself disbelievingly, at the situations he manages to get himself into. Oh, Jin is going to be insufferable about this.
The real Kim Seokjin has an incredibly distinctive, squeaky laugh that sounds like windshield wipers sliding back and forth, and Jimin knows this intensely well, because from the moment Yoongi begrudgingly admits his situation, Seokjin laughs nonstop for several entire uninterrupted minutes, until Yoongi snarls and hangs up on him, face flushed. Seokjin immediately calls back and laughs uncontrollably for several additional minutes, and they’re practically at Yoongi’s apartment complex by the time Seokjin switches into a much more frightening interrogation voice to demandingly question Jimin’s intentions behind showing up to the hospital and taking Yoongi home now.
Jimin is defensive and probably too exasperated when he mutters that he just couldn’t have it on his conscience that a man lied to a hospital and bled to death after surgery because of him, and Yoongi scoffs and shakes his head beside him throughout the conversation, but Seokjin sounds approving by the end of it, and that does seem to reassure Yoongi somewhat too. It isn't as if Jimin doesn't know this is crazy, of course it's crazy, but it would be worse, going home and leaving this stranger to his own devices trying to recover from surgery, right? Right.
Yoongi’s apartment is on the opposite side of town from him, but isn’t much larger than his own. There are steps leading into his apartment, and when Jimin rushes to the passenger door to so gingerly ease him out and Yoongi has to cling with a deathgrip to his shoulder to even take one step, Jimin can’t help but murmur, “Was the cab driver going to carry you in?”
“Shut up.” Yoongi hisses breathlessly, and Jimin shakes his head, almost fond. Luckily, there’s a couch not too far from the entryway, and after Yoongi grumbles through Jimin crouching down to unlace his boots and carefully pull them off, he begrudgingly allows Jimin to wrap an arm around his good shoulder and support him to the living room to so carefully lay down. Jimin has to take another trip to grab both their bags from the car, along with the prescriptions bag and the instructions folder the nurse had gone over with him. His mind is whirling a bit, as he locks his car, and this certainly, certainly isn’t how he expected his evening going, but as he reaches for the door handle, he squares his shoulders. He’s never been one to look away when someone asked him for help. And Yoongi had reached out to him, if accidentally, and he was going to do his best.
Yoongi is pouting on the couch when Jimin slips back into the living room, and Jimin almost wants to coo but knows it wouldn’t be welcome. Blonde wisps are floating over his eyes, which look strained and exhausted, and everything about his small, curled up figure and the pain lining his pretty features, all tugging at Jimin’s heartstrings and urging him to scoop Yoongi into his arms like he would Taehyung, stroke through his hair until he feels better. But Taehyung is his best friend, and Yoongi is a stranger, and moreover, one who has very very reluctantly conceded to his presence and assistance in the first place. He’s going to be toeing a very careful line, and has to save his battles for where they’ll matter, which he suspects, might just be every few minutes based on their interactions so far.
As he slides to the floor just beside the couch and flips open the packet, beginning to read through, Yoongi swallows with difficulty, in a way that sounds painful. He does it again when Jimin reaches the next page, and the third time, when Yoongi still doesn’t say anything, Jimin rolls his eyes.
“I’d get you water.” Jimin tilts his head back to look at him, and Yoongi startles at the sudden attention. “What am I here for? Ask me for things. Of course I’d get you water if you’re thirsty.”
Yoongi sighs heavily as if put upon, closing his eyes. “Fine, whatever, get me water.”
Jimin rises, stretching, to take the few steps into the neat, orderly kitchen. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No.” Yoongi mumbles, and Jimin sighs as he fills a cup with water before leaning over Yoongi to help prop him up against the cushions to drink. Yoongi waves him off with a muttered thank you, and Jimin has gotten through another two pages of the instructions before Yoongi quietly asks, “Can I… am I allowed to eat yet?”
“They didn’t tell you when you can eat?” Jimin asks, indignant on Yoongi’s behalf, and Yoongi looks defensive.
“They did, I just… Listen, I was out of it, I was on the drugs right after.”
Jimin softens his tone. “Sorry, they don’t want you to eat for another four hours, just to be sure.”
Yoongi groans, and Jimin reaches up to pat his arm then hesitates, unsure if it’ll be welcome. But Yoongi’s eyes lock onto where Jimin’s hand hovers above his own, and there’s a fleeting look that flashes across his eyes, and Jimin decides he's willing to risk his wrath if he’s wrong. Gently, he lowers his hand to Yoongi’s arm and pats the warm fabric of his sleeve a few times, resting his hand comfortingly there when he feels Yoongi settle at the touch. He has to suppress a smile, turning back to the papers in front of him.
“Anything important?” Yoongi asks, eying the papers too, and Jimin nods.
“The most important things are making sure you take the medications on time and keeping a really close eye on your wound for the first few hours.” Jimin leans his head back, eying the bandaging beneath Yoongi’s shirt speculatively. “I can check on it in about an hour if you want. We don’t have to change it until the four hour mark.”
Yoongi stares at him bewildered. “The four hour… how long are you staying?”
“The nurse said you shouldn’t be alone for the next twelve hours.” Jimin answers matter of factly, trying not to be overly obnoxious but well aware he isn’t succeeding. “Is Jin back before then?”
Yoongi groans, and Jimin thinks if he weren’t wounded and weary that he’d definitely have raised an arm to bury his face in his hands or something equally dramatic. “Oh my God, no, come on, I don’t-” Yoongi turns on the couch as if to face him, but winces mid-motion and freezes, eyes closed for a heavy breath, before he goes on mutedly. “I don’t need someone here that whole time, the hospital’s just being dramatic, you can just stay a bit longer then go, I’ll be fine.”
Jimin narrows his eyes. “Oh? You’ll be fine redressing that wound on your own then?” Jimin drops to the ground to lay and mirror him, and Yoongi’s eyes widen as he follows the motion, watching Jimin’s arm soar up and stretch back, back, back in a full arch until it’s flat on the ground behind him. “Show me, how high does your arm reach? This high? High enough to reach your shoulder?” Yoongi doesn’t move, and Jimin rises fluidly to sitting as Yoongi’s face goes slightly red. “I’m willing to bet not even close.”
Yoongi arranges his face into a glare, but when he huffs, it’s resigned. “Fine. Until you have to change the bandage, but - but I don’t need anyone after that. You can leave.”
“Oh, I’m happy to leave whenever you’d like.” Jimin offers, leaning towards the couch with an innocent smile, just an arm’s length from where Yoongi watches him suspiciously. “As long as someone else is here instead.” Jimin continues, and Yoongi sighs.
“I don’t need to bother anyone with this.”
Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Bother? This is exactly what to ask for help with, how is this a bother? If Kim Seokjin asked you to stay with him after surgery, it’d be a bother?”
“Of course not.” Yoongi snarls, and Jimin stares pointedly until Yoongi mutters, “Whatever.”
“Anyway,” Jimin smiles, turning away so he isn’t rubbing it in. “If you wanted to sleep for a bit, that would be alright. It says the meds are exhausting and that you’ll probably sleep for a few hours.”
Yoongi’s eyes have been fighting to open after every blink this entire conversation, but he’s determinedly keeping himself awake, and Jimin feels a pang of sympathy and then a jolt of unpleasant realization.
“If…” Jimin says slowly, “if you can’t sleep because of me, if you’re worried about… about having a stranger-”
Yoongi drowsily shakes his head, and the scowl he shoots him is half-hearted at best. “Shut up, you’re too weird to be a stranger.”
Jimin feels a prickle of warmth at this, even through his amusement. “Too weird?”
Yoongi’s eyes have fluttered shut and haven’t won the fight to open again, and it’s as if that’s yanking sleep in even harder because his words are slurring when he answers sleepily. “Yeah, way too weird. You’re… you feel fine, safe. I’m not even that tired.”
Jimin’s smile grows, along with the warmth in his chest, and in a burst of fondness, he can’t help reaching out his hand to rest on Yoongi’s head lightly. Yoongi makes a pleased humming sound at the contact, relaxing into it the same way Taehyung always does, the way Jimin knows he himself does, and Jimin is relieved at them having similar comfort languages. When he runs his fingers gently through Yoongi’s hair, Yoongi smiles, faintly at first, then brighter and wider until he’s beaming and Jimin can see his gums around his teeth, and Jimin’s heart flares and flutters and his chest is warm, warm, content. This sincere smile is so different from the grumbles and protesting scowls, and Jimin feels almost breathless with the privilege of being granted the sight of it.
He makes himself withdraw his hand when Yoongi’s breathing deepens into sleep, but he lets himself press a hand to where his heart races in his chest, lets his own smile widen foolishly and bites his lip, shaking his head at himself. Then he clears his throat, sits on the rug against the couch, facing Yoongi this time, and tugs the papers towards himself, opening the folder carefully. Taking one last careful look at Yoongi’s peacefully lax features, deep in sleep, he tugs the sheets towards him again, and carefully begins to read.
When Yoongi startles awake with a jerk that yanks at his shoulder in an almost blinding burst of pain, everything hurts more. His head feels far less floaty than when he fell asleep, more sharp and jagged, and his wound is scorching and his throat is dry. All his muscles ache dully, and he feels weak and broken and exhausted. There’s a rustle beside him, and he almost panics - what the hell, Jin isn’t here, who - before he remembers: Jimin is here. And abruptly, that fact feels impossible right now, and not because of anything about Jimin but everything about why Yoongi had planned to be alone after surgery in the first place.
He just isn’t up for putting up some front right now, pretending to be fine or pulling it together enough to be good company or dealing with - with anything, with anyone. And Yoongi knows that makes him a jerk because he’s the one who owes Jimin, and Jimin doesn’t owe him anything and is literally just here out of - out of misplaced guilt or something. Jimin is just ridiculously kind and caring in a way that doesn’t even make sense, and Yoongi is being cynical and harsh but he can’t stop himself, not when his shoulder blazes and his head throbs and his breaths themselves feel sharp and painful. He hadn't called anyone to drive him from surgery so he wouldn't have to feel guilty about not acting his best towards anyone he cares about who’s trying and helping - he can’t do better when his body is like this. And he got the surgery so he wouldn’t have to burden anyone anymore with his pain and his bad days, so why the hell is the surgery making this necessary?
The next several hours pass in a dreary blur, and he’s too harsh and too bleary and too distant, and he knows it and hates it. Yoongi hates the way he feels restless and irritable and waspish, the pain twisting and aching and terrible. But Jimin - Jimin is kind . Jimin is patient and warm and endlessly gentle, and when Yoongi’s fever spikes the way the nurse had apparently told Jimin it would, Jimin soaks cold washcloths to press against his arms and forehead. When the wound stings and Yoongi twists his mouth and swears and grips his blanket achingly tight, Jimin helps carefully apply the cream, redress the wound. When Yoongi’s stomach twists with hollowing hunger and there’s still over an hour left until he’s allowed to eat, Jimin makes him tea, holds the mug for him without any embarrassment when Yoongi’s hands tremble and shake unsteadily with the pain and the weakness.
When Yoongi wakes from the third time he’s drifted off to sleep without realizing, Jimin is, as every other time, sitting right beside him scrolling through his phone one-handed, his other hand resting right beside Yoongi’s on the couch. He has to bite his lip to resist reaching for it, and when he shifts minutely and feels an agonizing twist of sharp pain, he can’t bite back the gasp of pain, the tears that fill his eyes despite his attempts to blink them back.
“Can I… take the pain meds again… yet?” Yoongi manages between gritted teeth, and Jimin looks regretful beside him.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi, not for another… few hours.”
Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, breathing strained, and can’t prevent the tears from spilling over when the pain twists and sharpens, and he hears Jimin’s sharp intake of breath.
“Does it… does it hurt a lot?” Jimin asks timidly, and Yoongi wants to snap but forces himself to just tersely nod. He forces an unsteady breath, another, but this isn’t pain he can breathe around, all-consuming and terribly sharp, flames licking beneath his skin that he can’t move or twist away from or ease at all. He becomes aware of a faint ringing, and cracks his eyes open to blurrily see Jimin holding his phone to his ear, expression tense.
“Who-” Yoongi croaks, but Jimin shakes his head.
“Yes, hello, this is Kim Seokjin, I picked up my partner from surgery a few hours ago, and he’s in a lot of pain, I wondered if I could speak with a nurse or doctor please.”
Yoongi’s head jerks up in surprise, but the pain of that motion removes him from the majority of the rest of the call, which involves several long waits on Jimin’s part and nothing at all from Yoongi beyond whispering his birthday when Jimin can’t immediately grab the discharge paperwork again while on the phone. He drifts, as much as one can in this excruciating level of pain, and thinks distantly that Jimin is trying way too hard to relieve his pain for someone who doesn’t know him and has no stake in this at all. Then again, Jimin has no investment in any of this and still drove him home and has been here hours now, was so gentle changing the bandage, helped him through his fever, made him tea. There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense about Jimin and almost all of it makes Yoongi want to reach for his hand and cling to it and maybe never let go, and he doesn’t want to know how much of that is the fever and how much of it is him.
When Jimin finally hangs up, the call has been useless, the nurse insisting Yoongi can’t take his pain medications any sooner, and that this pain is normal and he just has to tolerate it a while longer. She does recommend he lay down in his bed, so that he can be propped against pillows and relieve weight and muscle tension, and that sounds too good to protest more than once when Jimin offers to help him over, even when that ends up meaning practically carrying him down the hall into his room.
“Wait.” Yoongi manages, short of breath, “I - I want to change first, I - my bed, I don’t - don’t want to - to get hospital on it.” He sounds winded and weak and stupid, but Jimin just nods, eyes too patient and kind, and helps him sink into the chair beside his dresser, grabbing him fresh pajamas from his drawer when Yoongi points loosely.
Jimin doesn’t seem embarrassed at all when he has to carefully help him change, which makes one of them, but Yoongi can’t bring himself to care too much, not when the pain sparks and spikes and rages through him, tears prickling in his eyes, his entire chest surging with fire and the wound scalding. He still shivers at Jimin’s touch, and not from the pain, not from the cold, but because Jimin is beautiful and his expression is intense as he buttons Yoongi’s shirt, eyes bright and eyelashes curved and biting his plush lip in concentration. Yoongi wants to grasp the small hands in his own, to pull him closer, to -
His shoulder sears in pain, mind going white with it, and he breaks that line of thinking, then shakes it away when it swims back into his mind. He wouldn't take advantage of Jimin, who’s here to help, who doesn’t know him and is still here, is still helping him, cares for him more than anyone should care for a complete stranger. And besides, Jimin is probably leaving now, going home as it gets late, and Yoongi hasn’t even thanked him yet and has no idea how to even start. Maybe he doesn't have to now, when he'll definitely mess it up, won't sound sincere through gritted teeth and bleary with pain. He has Jimin's number, if by accident, and he could text and ask him for his address sometime, send him flowers or something as a thank you. His entire torso twists and aches, and he sucks in a pained breath, bites his lip. He wonders if Jimin would let him take him out for coffee, as a thank you. And then maybe let him take him out for coffee again, not as a thank you.
Jimin smooths the blanket once he’s lowered him painstakingly slowly to laying on the bed, and has carefully piled the pillows around him so that none of his weight tugs at muscles or rests on the wound or on that entire side, then rises to stand. Yoongi bites his lip harder at the vicious surge of despair that slams through his chest then, that makes tears prickle in his eyes again, the very thought of being alone through this, when he hurts like this . He squeezes his eyes shut, drags in an unsteady breath, doesn’t let himself cry, and the dread builds when Jimin clears his throat.
“Mind if I borrow this?” Jimin asks lightly, and Yoongi’s eyes fly open in confusion. Jimin has pajamas held up from his drawer, and Yoongi stares, uncomprehending. Jimin grimaces.
“Oh, I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable with that, I can just sleep in what I'm wearing. It’s fine, I have before, they’re soft.”
Yoongi shakes his head, sluggish thoughts and pulsing confusion. “No, that - I’m not uncomfortable, you can, I just… you’re staying?”
Jimin tilts his head, looking equally uncomprehending. “Oh, you called someone else?”
Yoongi shakes his head slowly. “No.”
Jimin raises an eyebrow, and says just as slowly. “Then no.”
Yoongi blinks, staring, and Jimin shakes his head with exasperation. “I didn’t leave before when you felt alright, you think I’d leave now that you’re in pain?” Yoongi sucks in a breath at a spike of pain, and Jimin’s expression softens as he takes a step closer to the bed, voice firm but gentle. “I said I won’t go until someone else is here, and I meant it. I’m not leaving you alone.”
The pain is surging, electric waves now, and he can’t process this, can’t make the words to respond, so he just nods and squeezes his eyes shut again as tears fill them, and he hears Jimin’s sad sigh.
“I’m just going to borrow these then. I’ll change and I’ll be right back.”
Time feels sluggish, the way it hitches around his breaths and slows around the bursting flares of breathtaking pain in his side, his shoulder, his back, speeds up and blinks around the ache in his head. The bathroom door closes behind Jimin, and Yoongi loses time in a swirl of colour and pain, but the bathroom door is opening again and he couldn’t say how much time has passed there, if any has at all. But there are tears on Yoongi's cheeks, and the pain is so much worse, and the idea that he can’t take the pain medications and has to just wait through this seems unbearable. And he doesn’t want to be seen like this, weak and pathetic and struggling, but even more fiercely, he desperately doesn’t want to be alone.
His fists are tight and trembling, and he’s struggling through pathetically hitching breaths and can’t care about the tears pouring down his face, but he still looks up when Jimin sinks onto the bed beside him, a tentative distance away and a hesitant hand dropping to the bed beside him without making contact.
“Will… will it help if I…”
Yoongi stares as Jimin blushes, as he trails off and looks away, but that compassionate gaze snaps back to him when Yoongi nods tersely, bites his lip and does it again more vehemently. Then Jimin is crawling onto the bed, and with only a breath’s hesitation, he’s sliding in beside where Yoongi is propped carefully on the pillows, and his warm weight is a long line against Yoongi’s side and his good shoulder. Fingers weave between his, tugging them gently from where he has a white-knuckled grip on his bedsheets. Jimin carefully presses closer, squeezes his hand, and Yoongi takes a shuddering breath, another, then turns and presses his face into Jimin’s shoulder. He can feel the surprise, but Jimin doesn’t startle or recoil, even when he must feel the dampening of Yoongi’s tears through the borrowed shirt, and as Yoongi’s grip tightens to crushing the small fingers between his own.
With a quiet sigh of breath, Jimin begins to hum, and his free hand smooths down Yoongi’s back, light and careful and comforting. And they don’t know each other, and it should be strange, should be uncomfortable but it isn’t , it’s so soothing Yoongi feels something ache deep within in his chest, beyond the physical pain. Jimin’s pink hair looks silver in the darkness, his eyes are liquid kindness shining from the gloom, and his hands are soft and gentle, and Yoongi presses his face into his shoulder, face twisting with misery and pain, and lets himself cry. Jimin hums and lets him cling, allows him to crush his hand through gasps of pain, and Yoongi lets the comfort carry him through the surging waves of pain until he manages to sink into the darkness.
When he jolts awake again, pain screaming through the stiffness in his limbs and side, Jimin is already awake beside him, pressed close against his side, and it should be awkward but it isn’t, is just warm and comforting and right .
“You have music here.” Jimin whispers, shifting through the discs he has beside the bed. “Do you want to listen?”
Yoongi manages a weak nod, and lets his eyes flutter closed when Jimin kneels beside him on the bed, when he asks for permission with a tilt of his head, and at Yoongi’s nod, lowers a hand to gently run through his hair, the other soft hand working his white-knuckle grip from the blankets and weaving their fingers together again. When the track starts, tinny and quiet in the background, Yoongi feels his mind begin to drift, something restless in his chest settling the way music always manages. And he want to tell Jimin about the track, wants to explain it to him, the production level and the artistic choices and the background. Jimin would probably act interested too, would feel obligated to listen to the ramble even if he was bored with it, and Yoongi realizes he doesn’t know anything about him, not even if he likes music.
But when Jimin lowers himself carefully to lay beside him, propping himself on an elbow to lean over him, he closes his eyes to listen intently, and there’s something of a question in the way he frowns, the way his brow furrows, the focused concentration.
“How much…” Jimin asks slowly, “I noticed you have notes about the instrumentals and production on the CD case, how much do you know about the production of this one?”
Yoongi beams, and in a quiet rasp, he lets himself talk.
Jimin knows a lot about music, it turns out, being a dancer himself, but unexpectedly, he also has an incredible voice, and when Yoongi drowsily laments his singing career, he laughs incredulously, but his cheeks are a faint, pleased pink in the darkness between them. And when Yoongi’s pain spikes up again just before he finally gets to take the pain medications and he has a strangling grip on Jimin’s small hand as he waits for them to kick in, Jimin clears his throat and sings, quiet and breathtakingly soft and beautiful, until sleep tugs Yoongi down thick and heavy again.
In the morning, after washing his face and brushing his teeth, Jimin carefully helps Yoongi change his bandages, then badgers and pesters him until Yoongi relents and huffily shows him his phone as proof that someone really is coming over to take care of him when Jimin heads home in a few hours. Jimin rolls his eyes when Yoongi grumbles that he wouldn’t lie about that, but Jimin feels validly skeptical of this and reminds him that his original plan was to call a taxi. He smiles smugly as he snatches Yoongi’s cell from his offering hand and peers intently at the conversation, an entire string of messages, mostly in all caps and extremely distressed.
From: Ggukie
(4:16) SURGERY??? YOU L I E D TO ME??? YOU SAID YOU WERE BUSY WITH A DEADLINE THIS WEEKEND
(4:17) THAT’S RIGHT JIN RATTED YOU OUT
(4:17) YOU WERE GOING TO GET A T A X I FROM SURGERY????
(4:17) WHAT DID YOU TEACH ME TO DRIVE FOR???
(4:18) I’LL BE THERE AT 11!!!!
(4:18) AND I’M NOT LEAVING!!!!!!!!!!
(4:19) LITERALLY NEVER!!!! I OWN YOUR COUCH NOW!!!!!
(4:19) THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR BEING A LIAR WHO TAKES TAXIS AND HATES ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(4:20) are you in pain I’ll cry if you are you know I’ll cry I swear
(4:21) do you want that special mocha from the cafe on south fifth I’ll get you one
(4:22) I’M STILL REALLY MAD THO AND AM MOVING INTO YOUR LIVING ROOM PERMANENTLY!!!!
(4:22) A TAXI???? FROM SURGERY???? I HATE YOU!!!
(4:23) I love you I’ll see you soon you’re the worst
Jimin can’t help the way he dissolves into laughter when he reads the messages, but it’s a surge of relief, he’s genuinely pleased to see Yoongi has people who care so deeply about him. And even as Yoongi scoffs at the messages, he can see the fondness in the way his eyes soften.
He wants to offer making breakfast, but between he and Tae, the cook isn’t him, and he isn’t sure Yoongi would be in the mood to eat anything undersalted or overcooked or whatever he can think to come up with. As it turns out, Yoongi is a skilled cook, and offers to walk him through a recipe when Jimin assures him repeatedly that he’s up to it and eager to make something for them.
Potentially, this could be construed as a mistake, as Yoongi in his Cooking Instructor mode is possibly even more tightly wound than he has been in his Recovery mode, and Jimin and Tae have never been ones to take cooking seriously enough to avoid Yoongi’s wrath.
“No, the green onions are garnish , that’s enormous, you need to cut them way smaller than that!” Yoongi calls frustratedly from where Jimin has banished him to rest at the table, and Jimin calls a dismissive agreement, sighing and leaning over the plate to chop them even smaller, once again.
“Oh my God, why do you hold the knife like that?” Yoongi breathes in disbelief. “Have you ever chopped anything?”
Jimin can’t help bursting into laughter when he turns and sees the seriousness of Yoongi’s scowl. Somehow, though, breakfast turns out alright - turns out delicious in Jimin’s opinion, and he badgers Yoongi for the recipe he writes in his notes app shortly after, to try to get Taehyung to make it for him some other time.
Too soon, Jimin is arranging the medications along the coffee table along with the instructions, walking Yoongi through them as Yoongi repeatedly tries to say something and settles on awkwardly looking away, to Jimin’s faint amusement.
“I hope you rest and recover well, Yoongi.” Jimin says, when it’s a few minutes to eleven and he’s toeing on his shoes at the door, keys in hand and bag slung over his shoulder and nothing left to do but go.
“Thank you, I’m - I’m…” Yoongi clears his throat. “You obviously didn’t have to do - any of this, or help me, so… thank you. A lot. You really… it was good to have you last night.” He looks uncomfortable, and Jimin doesn’t drag it out, reaching a hand out to gently pat his elbow with a smile.
“I’m happy I could help.” Jimin smiles wryly. “I mean, we can’t forget this was all me selfishly saving my conscience from the guilt of lying to a nurse and then letting someone trip and die on the steps to their house because they took a freaking taxi home from surgery, but…”
“Shut up.” Yoongi sighs, but he shakes his head with a smile, and Jimin tugs his phone out of his pocket, glances at the time as Yoongi visibly steels himself to say something else. “And, um…” Yoongi is avidly avoiding eye contact, and Jimin suppresses a grin at the way Yoongi shifts uncomfortably. “If you… if you wanted to, um… see each other again,” Yoongi’s cheeks are flushing a faint pink, and Jimin grins delightedly, heart fluttering. “Maybe we could… listen to music again or, um… or something. You… you have my number, so…”
“I’d like that.” Jimin breathes, and Yoongi’s head snaps up to look at him shyly, both their smiles too honest, too bright.
“Me too, I… yeah, I’d like that.”
Jimin grins as he unlatches the door carefully, catching a glimpse of a boy that must be Jungkook, big eyes and fluffy hair and an enormous hoodie, climbing out of his car just beyond the apartment steps. Turning on the spot, he leans forward to press a soft kiss to Yoongi’s cheek, and smiles at the sharp intake of breath, at the flush of Yoongi’s cheeks.
“Get some rest, Yoongi.” Jimin whispers sweetly, then turns and dashes down the steps, beaming. He’s still smiling when he slides into his car, and the smile and bright happiness dancing in his chest are ever present as he turns the key, as he glances at where Jungkook seems to be very carefully wrapping himself around Yoongi in a hug in the doorway, and Jimin twists the steering wheel and drives away.
---
3 Months Later
From: Yoongiiiiiii <3
(3:16) oh my God okay listen
(3:16) you’re about to get a call okay you have to LIE TO THE DOCTOR
(3:17) you say NO you tell her the physical therapist is the one who cancelled on me because she WENT INTO LABOUR
(3:18) I’ll explain tonight babe ily SAY NO