134340 |JJK FF|

Chapter 49

Despite common belief, Kim Seokjin was not an old, balding man with a humped back who believed in things like fate.

That rumour was all Jeon Jeongguk's doing, that mischievous asshole. Seokjin wished he was back here with him, even if it was just so he could smack that fucker in the head for old time's sake.

Even if fate was real, he believed that it was just a petty little bitch, jealous of him, his tiny circle of friends and the memories they shared. That could be the only reason why things were like this now.

He'd normally have better coping mechanisms, with the day dreaming of his past being his all time favourite. But now, with the position he'd been sitting in for the past few hours, his back was a ringing ache, the only thing grounding him to his now pathetic life and keeping the happy thoughts further and further from reach.

In an attempt to stretch and draw some comfort, he leaned forward on his chair, grimacing with each satisfying pop from his back. His hand automatically went to hold the cold ones, hands that belonged to the lifeless body lying on the bed.

The cold hands were no comfort. Nor was the thin white blanket under which his friend laid.

There was the shrill beeping sound Seokjin was trying his best to ignore. Much like salt to a wound, the ringing only made his headache worse.

At one point, the sound got so infuriating that he raised his fingers to his ears to shut it out. This sound was not welcome, damn it! Min Yoongi was not supposed to rely on a fucking machine just to let Seokjin know he was still alive...!

His carefully constructed composed face crumpled slightly. The clock on the wall indicated that it was almost nine in the evening, fifteen minutes had passed since Hoseok made his way out of the hospital room with a promise to bring back food. Seokjin wanted him to come back, not because he was hungry or even had an appetite, he just wanted the company.

"Hey, Yoongi." The three syllables cracked out of his throat as he squeezed the cold hands, "I'm going to have dinner soon. Do you want some too?"

The body gave no sign he was heard, continuing to live only on the small, shuddering gasps of air that were easily drowned out by the sounds of the machines it was hooked to. Seokjin didn't know what he expected, "It's probably going to be boring old fruits, but you shouldn't complain about there being no fishes, those fruits are really healthy..."

His voice wavered as he looked at the IV stand, containing the nutrients that didn't seem to be doing a thing to his friend. His cheeks were nothing but hollow lines on his face, where the gray pallor was sickening to look at. The skin on his arms and ankles looked bruised, although Seokjin knew it was only the clotted blood playing with the colour. His black hair covered his closed eyes, and he brushed it away with the hope that those eyes would open with them too.

They did not.

"... I'd like it if you join us for dinner, though." The words came out as a croak.

The doctors had already broken the news to him, that there was no hope for their friend, and that now was the time to say proper goodbyes. He remembered when he tried for the first time, how his ears were still ringing with the doctors words and how his voice choked up. He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't the second day either.

Now, there wasn't much for him to do other than sit down on the uncomfortable chair and talk, talk and talk like he'd never done before. Everything he'd done that day, to the people he'd met that day to the food he ate, everything. At one point, he'd gotten so desperate that he started talking about all the other feline friends they had, the ones who were still in lock down, the ones who recently got diagnosed and the ones who already left. He hoped Yoongi would open his eyes.