After getting diagnosed with a rare, terminal illness and being forced right out of his perfectly normal life, Jeon Jeongguk lost all his faith in living. Just six more months and he'll be dead. Gone. Forgotten. However, when a new hospital friendsh...
"Now I'm stuck with crazy people?" Jeongguk scoffed. He noticed the way Sae's expression hardened, and okay, he felt a little bad when she recoiled her hand back. Hanging his head, he mumbled, "Sorry."
"Right. Well I want you to be polite. They're all in the same boat as you. When I'm telling you these are the few people that understand Gguk, they do."
"Alright, fine," Jeongguk gave in, his shoulders sagging as Sae's lips curled upward. "I'll do it for a week or two. If they're boring, I'm out. If they're scary, I'm out."
"Fine," Sae nodded, "As long as you try, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," He rolled his eyes, trying to hide the irritation in his tone as his aunt backed up, giving him one last hopefully grin as she headed toward the direction of the elevator.
"You promise me?" She called after him.
"I promise!"
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He didn't keep his promise.
Instead, Jeongguk was wandering around the empty floor, doing everything he could to avoid going inside that damn meeting room because honestly, it was fucking humiliating.
God, when his aunt left, it was like being dropped off to kindergarten, but not in the kind parenting way. It felt more like he was punted like a football, and Sae left him on the field with no other warning except "hey there will be people like you who'll be there shortly"!
Of course, Sae meant well. She was his aunt, his only family left, and honestly, Jeongguk didn't expect her to read his mind twenty-four-seven. So out of kind consideration, he shoved his asshole-ness aside for a little bit, put the effort to look all happy and shit just so Sae wouldn't worry much.
She had enough on her plate, and what he felt didn't really matter anyway.
Jeongguk, however, was bored. There wasn't much to do on this floor except walk around and hope he didn't bump into some random nurse that would snitch about him playing hooky to his aunt, and like, there was no way he'd approach the support group if Dr. Kim were to catch him.
He could manage, maybe. Although if his terminal illness wasn't going to kill him yet, at this rate his boredom was sending him on the path to extinction.
It was just an hour, but for some reason time liked to drag when you weren't doing what you were supposed to be doing. Eventually, pacing circles and scrolling through his phone— which, mind you, barely had anything on it because not only did he lack friends, his social presence was more dead than he was— got old fast.
But thirty minutes in, Jeongguk found a fucking jackpot: a vending machine.
Sae was lowkey a bitch— alright, that was too harsh— but Jeongguk didn't really agree with her idea of nutrition.
