DELIVERY! | JHS

five

"Careful. Quiet—Jesus, could you be louder, Namjoon?" Hoseok whispers, monitoring the members of the gang as they attempt to carefully carry Jungkook into the practice operating room of Hoseok's university. Hoseok had forgotten to give back the key his professor had given him to lock up the room when he had to come in and finish a project one time after class, and he's grateful he has it now. "Seriously, how the hell have you made it out alive on all the stealth missions you guys pull off that they talk about on the news?" He asks, earning glares from the others. Hoseok can't help talking, it's his nervous habit—rambling like an idiot with no filter on his words—and right about now, he's nervous to the point of a breakdown he can't afford to have.

The car ride there was painful for Jungkook, considering all the sharp turns Jimin made and the fact that they were going twenty miles above the speed limit in the big van. Hoseok was initially terrified to be in a vehicle moving so fast, but they assured him that Jimin was their designated getaway driver. Hoseok didn't know whether that was comforting or not, but he just focused on tying the tourniquet he made out of a piece of his shirt that Seokjin ripped off.

Jungkook groans as they set him down on the steel table, metal scaffolding still protruding from his chest and shards of glass buried in the muscle of his thigh. He's pale and sickly, and covered in a sheen of cold sweat, eyes closed and pain evident on his features. His peach colored hair is matted to his forehead with sweat and blood. It's now, looking at the boy who is steadily bleeding out internally on the table, that reality starts to hit Hoseok. He isn't licensed to perform surgery, he isn't permitted to be in this room. But he has to, because Iseul has kept her hand on the waistband of her jeans just in case she has to reach for her gun, and because he can't just sit here and let Jungkook die.

He won't just sit here and let Jungkook die.

He rushes over to the sink, grabbing the soap and scrubbing as fast and hard as he can at his bloody hands, wincing as the soap stings the cut in his pinky finger from Iseul. "Someone grab a gown from that shelf over there and get it ready for me. Gloves are underneath them." He instructs, voice firm, and is mildly surprised when the gang members hurry to his orders. "Do any of you know his blood type?" He asks.

"AB." A man with dark black hair who has been extremely quiet says from the corner. He's terrified, and Hoseok can see it on his face.

"AB what?" Hoseok persists, and the man furrows his eyebrows.

"What do you mean, AB what?" He asks, and Hoseok sighs.

"AB positive or negative." He clarifies, and the man scoffs.

"Does it matter? He's bleeding out over here!" The man says, getting angry.

"Actually, it does matter, because if he's negative and we give him AB positive, the RH antibodies will attack the RH antigens and his blood will clot and he'll die." Hoseok explains grimly, trying to keep his patience. The man opens his mouth to protest, but shuts it when he realizes Hoseok is righy.

"Can we stop talking about him dying?" The man with honey blonde hair asks desperately, hand still interlaced with Jungkook's unresponsive one. Hoseok sighs, nodding and shaking his hands dry before putting them carefully into the gloves Namjoon is holding out for him and letting Seokjin place the gown over his arms and shoulders.

"Okay, someone go in the fridge in the corner and grab as much O blood as you can find." He says firmly, and the man who protested earlier rushes over to the fridge. "Can you get some gloves on and hold out that tray of instruments for me, please?" He asks the honey blonde, who looks pained at the thought of letting go of Jungkook's hand.

"I've got it, Tae." Iseul says, and picks up the tray. Hoseok eyes her warily.

"Don't pull anything on me. Please. I'm going to try my hardest to save him, and if you pull a gun on me, I might lose it." He makes a disclaimer, and she nods, dropping her eyes to the floor in what Hoseok believes is shame. Approaching the metal table carefully, Hoseok goes about readying an IV and hanging the blood bag when the black haired man returns with it, and then hooking Jungkook up to the heart monitor. He straps Jungkook to the table with the help of Jimin. Then something occurs to him, and his blood runs icy.

"Fuck. I can't put him under general anesthesia." He realizes, taking a deep and shaky breath.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm not licensed—"

"You're not a licensed surgeon either, and that's not stopping you!" Iseul speaks up, and Hoseok gives her a withering look.

"Yeah, but I've also been to school for almost four years for surgery. Not anesthesiology. We also don't know if he has any allergies to the anesthesia, so even if I was qualified, he could—"

"Don't say it! Please, don't say it." The blonde man, Tae, pleads. "Just save him. Stop arguing and save him. Please." Hoseok bites his lip hard and nods, looking down at Jungkook's still frame.

"Fuck. Okay. Okay. Well, let's do this." He sighs, trying his best not to panic, trying not to think about how he's never done surgery on a living, breathing person, let alone a solo surgery on someone alive. He has practiced on cadavers, but they don't even come close to this magnitude of intensity. His shaking hands come to rest on the piece of metal scaffolding embedded in Jungkook's chest. "I'm so, so sorry, Jungkook." He says softly, feeling unbelievably guilty for the amount of pain he is about to inflict on this already suffering man.

He breathes in deeply, counting to three.

And then he pulls straight up, so as not to snag any of Jungkook's untouched organs on the way up—

And Jungkook screams. He screams and cries out in pure agony, tears streaming down his face. It isn't long until everyone in the room is crying tears of empathy for the poor man as he screams until his throat is raw and endures the unbearable, unimaginable pain until he passes out from it. Hoseok is crying too, though he isn't close with Jungkook, trying to work as fast and as thoroughly as he can and murmuring quiet, sincere apologies under his breath, only speaking other than than to ask for what instrument he wants.

This continues for hours, Jungkook waking up two more times as Hoseok makes progress, until finally, he steps away from the table, exhausted, stressed, anxious, and covered in his own blood from earlier along with Jungkook's. The others look at him expectantly.

"He'll need to stay in bed for a few months, and when he does walk, he'll have a limp for the rest of his life—but there will be a rest of his life. He'll live." He breathes out, and the others let out their collective sighs of relief, happy tears coming to their eyes. They embrace each other as Hoseok watches. They really are like a family, in some weird way. A violent, aggressive, loving family. And then one member of that family sets her eyes on him. And she breaks away from the other members, and approaches him cautiously.

"Please don't kill me now." He blurts out. And for a second, she doesn't respond, but then the happy tears in her eyes spill onto her cheeks and her face breaks into a bright, stunning smile that makes Hoseok wonder if this beautiful, happy girl is the same one who has attempted to kill him on multiple occasions. That thought only multiplies as she steps forward and embraces him tightly, as Hoseok stands stiff in her arms, scared but also touched in the weirdest way.

"You're gonna get blood on your clothes." Hoseok points out, considering he's covered in the stuff.

"Just shut up and hug me back, you dumbass." She mumbles.

And Hoseok does.

Partly because he's scared not to. Mostly because he's scared not to. But also, for a reason he can't quite pinpoint. All he knows is that her arms around him makes his tense, tired muscles relax beneath her touch, and as odd as the situation is, Hoseok is okay with it.

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