- With your feet on the air
and your head on the ground -
This seems like an important moment; one I will remember later as a game changer. Something greater is going on, and for now, I'm not sure how to deal with any of it without falling apart. The ground, so solid and firm under my feet is shifting, revealing there is nothing much keeping me afloat after all.
Taehyung is a prostitute. Hoseok shot Yoongi.
I know those things to be true, yet can't fully understand it, like I'm still waiting for someone to grab my shoulders and look at me right in the eyes, promising me it's all a bad dream.
Minutes after Taehyung left, I'm still huddled behind the vending machine, my ass on the floor and wondering how much he hates me for spying on him and Hazel on a conversation that was definitely not supposed to be heard. I don't want to go back in that waiting room, sit beside him like nothing happened and watch Yoongi's mom go a little crazier every second as she waits for some news from her dying son. However, I can't go home or go back to school after something like this.
I truly feel like in this moment, there is not a single place on Earth for me to be.
"Sage! I was looking for you!"
I turn sideways, catching my dad's worried expression as he walks toward me.
"Dad!" I stand up, running to him.
He opens his arms and I hug him tightly, burying my head into his chest. His sweater smells like formaldehyde, dried thyme, and wool; the familiar perfume of my childhood. It's accompanied by the warmness of his arms around me, snippets of memories floating at the outskirt of my consciousness; salty child tears and snot soaking his shoulder as he kept me close and patted my back. I realize his presence is all I needed to let go of the lump in my throat, eyes watering as I press myself against him.
"My friend – Yoongi – he got shot," I stutter, emotions closing-in on me.
"I know, sweetheart," he sighs, "The hospital called me, I came as fast as I could..."
He holds on to me, and I can feel his heart hammering in his chest, the fast beat indicating he was truly worried about me. Usually, I would despise any form of public display of affection with my father, thinking it's totally uncool to do so, but today I need a free pass, and I certainly don't give a damn about what the nurses think. I feel small and childlike in his arms, protected, which immediately makes me feel a little better.
"Can we go home?" I ask, tears streaming down my face.
"Are you sure? You don't want to stay here and wait to see if your friend is fine?"
My heart sinks as I shake my head.
No. There is nothing I can do for Yoongi now, it's not like staying would make a difference in his recovery. He's in good hands with Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook, and his mom. If I were him, the last person I would want to see right now is the one responsible for all of the mess that ensued a shot being fired.
"I want to go home," I repeat, and my dad nods, keeping his arm around my shoulder as we walk towards the exit.
And what if Yoongi dies? Then what?
Then, I would hate myself.
We take the elevator down, luckily not crossing path with anyone I know. The lobby of the hospital is wide and bright; mirrored ceiling sending back a deformed version of me as I look up. Outside, the sun is slowly making its way to the horizon, lowering in the sky and sending its bright orange rays towards us, blinding me. The automatic doors open, and I walk a few steps in the parking lot when someone calls my name.
"Sage?"
I turn around, spotting Hoseok, as white as a sheet as he leans against a column in front of the main entrance.
"Hoseok?" I call, stopping in my tracks.
We stare at each other for a second, and my dad detaches his arm from my shoulder, immediately sensing something is off.
"I'll wait for you in the car," he tells me softly, before walking away to let us talk.
I nod, barely registering.
"Are you okay?" I ask Hoseok, arms tightly closed on my chest as I take a few steps towards him.
His eyes are red and puffy, sweat lining his forehead, and he's as white as a sheet. He doesn't look too good, and I'm weirdly satisfied to see him suffer like that. His police uniform shirt is all ruffled and I notice he doesn't have his gun belt anymore.
"Sage..." he chokes, "I'm so sorry..."
I get a nasty taste in my mouth as I look at his pathetic, slumped form.
"You might be a murderer, now," I simply state, taking a deep breath and trying to formulate a coherent phrase, "And also, this," I say, pointing back at him and at myself, "Is over."
"No," he immediately cries out, "Please don't do this to me, I love you, I love you so much, I did a horrible thing and I will take responsibility for my fucked up actions and I'm so sorry Sage, I swear, I'm such a fucking idiot and I know it's my fault..."
He starts crying, ugly tears bubbling from his eyes and staining his cheeks.
"Don't apologize to me, I'm not the one you shot," I calmly say, "What I would like to know, however, is why Chase, Tyler, Darren, and Nathan, your four best friends, tried to kidnap me in the middle of the day."
He snorts, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and looking down at his feet. I have never seen him this distraught before, and a small part of me still wants to take him in my arms and comfort him. The other part of me, however, feels like slapping him in the face.
"I – I was in class, but someone told me they saw you leave school with Yoongi... so I texted my friends..."
"Asking them to take me away from Yoongi? And when that didn't work out, you shot the guy? Really?!"
The anger is rising in my chest, my cheeks getting heated as I tightly grab my arms with my hands.
"I thought you were in danger... I was protecting you, I just told Darren to take you to safety..."
"Were you really just protecting me from Yoongi? Or were you making sure I wasn't kissing someone else in your back?"
Hoseok breaks down again, fat tears making their way down his cheeks.
"Sage, I know what I did is despicable. I'm sorry a hundred times, I will never pull something like that ever again..."
His voice breaks, pure sorrow and regret filling his eyes.
"Well, you won't get the chance, I'm leaving now," I say, feeling my heart breaking a little in my chest as I turn around.
"No!" the boy wails, grabbing my hand and falling on his knees, right in front of the hospital entrance.
I look around, a bit concerned by what people might think. Luckily, the place is deserted.
"Sage," he begs, "I forgive you now. I was the biggest moron on the planet, and I know I didn't treat you right, but I will change, I promise, I want to be – I will be better for you. You're the love of my life and... I just might have shot someone today, I think I got my lesson now, fuck, I've never felt this shitty in my entire life and I need you. Please, please, I need you to forgive me."
His cries get louder and he pulls my hand to his face, pressing the back of my palm against his soaked cheek. I feel sick, something deep and heavy pressing against my trachea as I look down at him in sudden panic.
I know he didn't mean to shoot Yoongi. He's usually one of the sweetest, most gentle persons I know, and this situation was impossible. But at the end of the day, I still think we're broken, and no amount of promises and apologies will ever change the fact that we are bad for each other.
I slowly pull my hand away from him, swallowing the tears stinging my eyes.
"Get up," I tell him, and he follows my command, standing up in front of me and lifting his eyes to meet my heavy gaze.
All I read in his dark orbs is pure despair.
"Your father is looking for you, you should go see him, tell him about everything that happened," I say, grabbing his shoulders, "I'm glad you want to take responsibility for this, it's the right thing to do. I will grab all the stuff I have from you at my house, and give it back to you next week..."
"No, no... please," he whispers.
I blink, not fast enough to drive away the tears this time.
"Hoseok, I really wish you all the best."
"No! Sage!"
When I walk away, I don't turn back.
Hearing him call my name with his throat raw from sobbing is a new kind of painful, but I owe to myself to let go. Fond memories of me and him scroll through my mind like a movie as I walk away, and I breathe hard, the sharp burn in my chest amplifying as I get further from him.
Finally, by the time I get to my dad's car, I managed to numb away some of it and block the worse out, entering the vehicle with a somehow calm stance.
"You want to talk about it?" my dad asks.
I don't know how much of it he saw or heard, and right now, I don't care. I just want to go home and cry myself to sleep. Maybe eat a tub of ice-cream. Maybe find a coffin to burry myself in.
"No."
"Alright," he says, turning the key in the ignition.
The setting sun sends neon orange shadows over our small grey town and I observe the light reflecting against the tall windows as the car passes in front of Chapelgate Academy, a million chips of brightness shimmering in the distance. My eyes lose focus as I turn to the sky, staring into nothingness. I remember the pylons and the phragmites, how happy I felt while screaming from the top of my lungs, right above the rooftops of the small houses I am now passing by. All of it feels like a lifetime ago, yet it happened just a few hours prior.
If Yoongi dies, he might like to have his ashes thrown away from the highest point of the antenna, riding the winds forever; wild and free, just like him. I suddenly smile, remembering a moment in an abandoned factory when he told me receiving the old cement ceiling over my head was 'the dream'.
"Everyone remembers the ones who lived fast, died young, and made beautiful corpses."
Oh well, he might just have realized his wish. He's already a legend at school, I can't imagine what dying as a martyr would do to his popularity.
The thought makes me smile uncontrollably, the irony making me snicker to the point my dad starts looking at me with concern. As we pass the corner store where Yoongi works and enter the driveway, my phone chimes, and I pick it up after fumbling in my coat pocket.
Jimin's name appear on the screen.
Jimin: Yoongi just woke up, the doctor said he is going to be just fine. Where are you? They said we could go see him now.
I let out a long breath, closing my eyes and feeling new tears prick my eyes.
He's alive. Yoongi is alive.
Hesalivehesalivehesalivehesalive.