delicate | K.TH

10

AMIN

I can hear Shilla talking rapidly on the phone. But anything other than that, it's a messy blur.

No time. No time.

I'd tried calling Taehyung multiple times, after the call had disconnected. But he hadn't picked up again.

"What did he say?" I ask when Shilla hangs up, hurrying to pull a coat over her shoulders. But she just runs out, waving at me to follow.

She shows me the address while we catch a taxi.

I should've known.

It's the small complex near the company.

"He's gonna be there too." Shilla says, as I give the driver the address and plead for him to go as fast as he could.

"Who? Jungkook?"

She nods rapidly.

Almost there.

It almost feels painful— sitting in this car, knowing that he could be dying. My entire body is shaking, face paled down to white.

Shilla hugs me tightly.

"Amin, don't be scared. It's scaring me too."

I clench my fists into my sides, trying to force the trembling to stop. Shilla looks at me with wide eyes, full of worry.

She'd never, never seen me like this before.

"Thank you." I whisper breathlessly to the driver, rushing out of the door the moment he comes to a stop. Shilla isn't next to me, probably paying him.

Jungkook.

Where's Jungkook?

I stare at the locked door, at the keypad. My heart feels like it's going to explode if I had to wait any longer.

What's the password?

"944321."

An unexpected voice murmurs above me, and I shift to the side to let Jungkook unlock the door.

His fingers fly across the keypad, before clicking it open.

I rush in.

The entire house is dark. But the first thing I notice is a bottle of scattered pills, and the person who's trying to empty the entire thing in his mouth.

"Kim Taehyung!"

I rip the bottle from his fingers. His eyes are disoriented when it lands on me, and I grip his wrist.

He was going to fall.

"Noona...?"

I press my hand against his chest. Taehyung stumbles heavily into me, but I hold the both of us up.

"You're going to breathe right now."

He takes in another strained gasp, and I push back tears.

"Fucking breathe."

He shivers. But he slowly calms down, and for the next minute the sound of my breathing seems louder than his.

He closes his eyes.

"What were you thinking?" I whisper, still holding him tightly. "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad? Why were you taking pills?"

He makes a small sound in his throat.

"I'm sorry."

But I can't erase the anger from my expression. He didn't have an inhaler with him— didn't carry one with him, either.