"I just couldn't resist."
"Only sacred things deserve to be messed with."
It all ended with a dead kid near the train tracks.
Six years later, the story repeats itself and two long-forgotten friends might find out that when death tries to play match...
- All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you better run, better run, outrun my gun -
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I can't help myself, staring at the white cracks in the ceiling and thinking about all of the people who've been here before me; siblings, friends, neighbours. The walls are infused with their silent terror and introspective pleas; all of them yearning for the news of their loved one being saved. I join my quiet prayers to theirs, wishing with all I have for Yoongi to get out of here alive. He's been in surgery for an hour already, and just like all of the people before me, my gaze is stuck to the large clock above the window, needle slowly ticking off the seconds to which he has been gone.
A nurse came by earlier, checking out all of us one by one. Besides some scrapes, bruises, and bloody knuckles, Jimin has a black eye and a nose covered in scabs, and Taehyung got some stitches done, right over his eyebrow. The nurse promised it wouldn't leave a scar, words to which he simply shrugged, like he didn't care at all he might have just ruined his angelic perfect face.
The boys are now sitting beside me on the white plastic chairs of the waiting area; ice packs on their red and blue hands, and broody stares darted to the clock. The fluorescent lights are blinding, crude brightness making their injuries look worse than they are.
Yoongi's mom is a cute woman in blue nurse scrubs, sitting in front of us on the other side of the room and shaking her legs from anxiousness while drinking her coffee. Her raven hair is cut short above her shoulders, rectangle glasses sitting on her nose. Her expression is one of silent frustration, and just from her stance, I can tell this isn't the first time she's sitting in a waiting room while her son is put back together by her colleagues.
She's been through a lot. I can't tell from her eyes; determined yet resigned, like she knows how rough things can get. She learned not to expect too much.
Taehyung suddenly nudges me in the side with his elbow. When I look back at him, he points with his chin towards the door and I turn in that direction. Standing in the doorway is Hoseok's dad, freshly pressed police uniform tightened around his crossed arms. He doesn't look too happy, frowning as he waves towards me, indicating I should come and see him. I stand up, slowly making my way to the corridor.
Of course they called the police. Gunshot wounds are always reported to the authorities. Luckily, I know I can handle Hoseok's dad. He has that 'not you again!' kind of disappointed look on his face as he presses his lips in a tight line, turning around to me as we reach the outside of the waiting room.
"What happened this time?" he asks, a tired hand running through his hair.
"I think you should talk to your son," I reply stubbornly.
"Sage, this is serious, I heard that a kid got shot, Min Yoongi, right? is an illegal weapon involved? Tell me," he whispers.
His eyes dart back into the waiting room at the slumped shadow that is Taehyung, covered in bruises. Of course he would think he's to blame for this.
