delicate | K.TH

20

They can't.

"Taehyung."

They can't fix it.

The moment I feel his hand wrap around my wrist, I shake him away roughly. And he tenses, eyes stunned before it shifts to anger.

"What do you think you're—"

"They caused this." I hiss, taking a step backwards to the entrance. "They gave this to me. I can't believe... what in the hell was I thinking, coming here?!"

His brows cross in confusion. "What?"

But by then, I've turned away and walked briskly out the doors I'd come in a minute ago. My chest is heavy, thick with breaths.

He catches up to me in a second.

"What do you mean, that they gave this to you?" He asks, searching my gray eyes. "Is there something you haven't told me yet? What do I not know?"

"Get me home."

Anger flashes through his features. "I'm not just your guard that you can order around. I'm your friend. Tell me what in the hell I'm missing."

The moment my eyes fix at him in stubbornness, he growls.

"You won't tell me?"

"Just get me home, Jungkook."

His face is dark, and he stays silent the entire time we get back into the car— with him driving. He even passes the speed limit, and from that I can tell he's genuinely frustrated with me.

But when we stop, it isn't in front of my apartment.

"Get out." Jungkook hisses to me from the front seat. "If you won't tell me, then you're telling her."

My eyes go wide. And I instantly grip his shoulder in panic, the moment I see a familiar figure sweep out from the entrance.

"...Jungkook—"

"Get out, Tae. You're talking today, no matter if it's me or her. I've already told her everything."

When?

"When?" I say weakly, voice getting small as Noona stops right outside the car door. Her expression is unreadable, head cocked slightly to the side.

I hadn't wanted her to know, not like this.

Jungkook sighs heavily.

"Do you want me to open the car door for you or do you want to do that yourself?"

_____________________________

"Do you like tea?"

"No," She answers for me, a smile ghosting on her lips as she places the tea box back in the cabinet. Instead she reaches for the box of hot chocolate.

"You like this better."

I glance up at her when she sits opposite from where I am. And then she hesitates, pursing her lips before she stands to sit down again.

This time, next to me.

"So." Her soft figure leans slightly against mine. "Should I ask the questions or do you want to tell me the things you want?"

I fidget. "How much did Jungkook tell you?"

"Assume I know everything." She smiles sweetly, laughing when I make a painful noise. "I didn't know Jungkook could be so detailed when he wants to be."

"Noona..."

"Alright, alright. I'm serious."

Her fingertips rest gently against my thigh. And for a moment I hesitate, if I can really tell her.

Of course.

She loves me. She will understand. After she hears, she might even stop Jungkook when he tries to take me to the hospital again.

I grip her hand.

"I didn't use to have asthma, did you know that?"

_____________________________

AMIN

He'd been in an accident when he was young— even younger than when I'd met him. The doctors had barely saved his life, from the fire that had also taken his father.

But they couldn't save his throat, too damaged from the smoke. He'd developed asthma from there, which had only gotten more serious as he ignored it from his trauma.

"Tae—"

"Do you understand now, Noona?" He wraps me in his arms. "What if I go— and they just make it worse again? I'm afraid...that I..."

His arms clench tighter around my waist when his breathing starts to shallow. And I feel his heart stutter, with his hand pressing my head firmly into his chest.

He's shaking.

"I have an inhaler." I whisper, voice tender. And at first he flinches, his jaw flexing.

"F-For me...?"

"Yes."

A gasp runs through his lips. He lets me go, and I quickly take my body off of his to run towards the kitchen. Pulling open a drawer, I grab the unused inhaler I'd bought just in case this ever happened.

I'd barely taken a second.

When I rush back into the living room, Taehyung is looking at me with wide eyes, one hand twisting the material of his shirt.

"Here— here."

Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I ease the open inhaler into his mouth. It really was getting worse— the flares. It was happening so often.

His dark eyes are broken as it hangs loosely on my fingers, holding the inhaler.

He'd never looked this way before.

"It's okay, baby." I murmur, voice slightly urgent. "We'll fix this, alright?"

And the moment I say that, I can see it on his face— even though he doesn't say it out loud.

Don't lie to me.

"Hey."

I touch his chin.

"Do you still remember what you asked me?"

"My house or yours?"