As Long As I Can (Jiminx Reader) [Completed]

Chapter 23: "When the Light Fades"

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Minutes passed.

Or maybe it was hours. No one knew anymore.

The only thing that marked time was the door finally opening again.

A doctor stepped out.

Middle-aged, kind eyes, but a serious face. A clipboard held to his chest like a shield.

Jimin stood up instantly. Her mother clutched her husband’s arm tighter. All three of them looked at him like he was God himself.

The doctor stepped out from behind the swinging doors, his expression composed but dimmed by the weight of truth. In his hand was the chart, but it wasn’t the ink on paper that mattered—it was the silence before he spoke.

Jimin stood instantly, as did Y/n’s parents. Her mother clutched her husband’s arm, her lips already trembling.

The doctor looked at all of them before speaking, his voice low but steady.

“…I’m sorry. She doesn’t have much time left.”

The words hung in the air, heavy as thunder.

“She’s been holding on longer than we expected,” he continued gently, “but her vitals are weakening. It could be a few hours… a day if we’re lucky. She needs rest. No visitors for the next hour, but you’ll be allowed to see her after that.”

Her mother let out a soft, cracked sob, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder. Her father’s hands tightened into fists as he nodded slowly, eyes glassy.

Jimin’s body locked in place.

The world seemed to mute around him.

No sound. Just the echo of those words.

She doesn’t have much time left.

Not enough time.

Not enough for all the tomorrows they’d imagined.

And yet—he whispered to himself—he still had this moment. This one heartbeat. This one chance to hold her a little closer.

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Jimin didn’t sit again. He walked to the corner of the hallway where no one could hear, where no one could see, and leaned his forehead against the cold wall.

He closed his eyes and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding for hours.

He cried.

But it wasn’t the kind of crying that came with sound.

It was the kind that left his face wet and chest hollow.

He didn’t pray.

He just whispered her name again and again like it was the only anchor left in the storm.

“Y/n… please…”

Please don’t let this be the end.

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The clock ticked.

An hour had passed—maybe more. No one was sure anymore. In the waiting room, time had lost its meaning.

Then the nurse appeared, gentle eyes and hushed voice.

“You can see her now.”

No one moved at first. As if stepping through those doors meant accepting something final.

Her father stood first, holding his wife’s hand. Together, they walked slowly down the hallway, each step echoing off the sterile walls. Jimin stayed behind. He watched them vanish into the room, the door clicking quietly shut behind them.