FIX YOU
COLDPLAY
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
When the tears come streaming down your face
'Cause you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
What could it be worse?
"Do you recognize the suspect, sir?" The officer asks. Jeongguk's chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath.
"Yes." He chokes out, throat feeling tight and constricted. No, he thinks again, it can't be. "Not—personally, but yes. He works as a bouncer at a nightclub in S-Seoul. He's friends with Hoseok. Or, Hoseok said they were friends, anyways." Jeongguk rambles inarticulately. His brain feels like scrambled eggs.
"I see. Sir, can you think of any motivation this man would have to harm Mr. Jung?" The officer asks. Jeongguk braces himself on the end of Hoseok's hospital bed, mind reeling. What can he possibly have against Hoseok? He lets all of his friends into nightclubs for free! Hell, he even let me in— Jeongguk's train of thought comes to a lurching stop as it dawns on him:
The neckline of his black shirt is suddenly grasped roughly and yanked upon until he's face to face with the bouncer.
"I'm only letting you in because you're with Jung Hoseok. This is a one-time thing, Wanderer. I will beat whatever life is left in you out of you if you come around here again." The bouncer practically hisses.
Jeongguk feels his heart crumble, and he grips onto the hospital bed for dear life as his knees go weak. Could it be his fault that Hoseok is hurt? Could the bouncer's deep-rooted hate for Wanderers transfer to those few like Hoseok who support them? As hard as Jeongguk's frazzled brain tries, he can't come up with a better explanation. This is a hate crime, and the hate was refracted off the horrid, abnormality that Jeongguk is and onto the pure, kind Hoseok, like light off a mirror. Crimes with this motive aren't rare, but Jeongguk never thought they could happen to him before. Well, it makes sense. That was what he thought before he had friends, before he had Hoseok. And now Hoseok paid the price of being associated with the scum of the earth.
This is all my fault, Jeongguk thinks, the words repeating in his head. He feels faint as the clip of the bullet penetrating Hoseok's side replays over and over behind his eyes; the grotesque angle at which Hoseok jolts before crumpling to the ground; the red liquid that seeps from the wound and stains the sidewalk and every inch of Jeongguk's conscience. The blood is on his hands.
"Sir?" The officer asks once more, and Jeongguk's shallow breathing is the only answer he gets, until his lips, his lips that feel numb, like dry cotton, form barely coherent words.
"This is all my fault." He chokes out the mantra he's been thinking, and the officer raises his eyebrows in concern.
"What do you mean?" He asks.
"I'm—I'm a Wanderer." Jeongguk blurts. He's too overwhelmed with emotion to process the fact that he's just outed his life's secret to someone who may not be very fond of what he is. He frankly doesn't care. His wellbeing is the least of his concern; it's beyond him now.
"What?" A shaky voice asks from the door. Jeongguk glances over to see Seokjin. He's looking at Jeongguk with something Jeongguk's never seen before. It's a look Seokjin has given the mouse he saw scurrying around the floor of the back in the cafe. A look reserved for pure, unadulterated disgust. Seokjin is disgusted by him. "Jeongguk, no. You're not—you can't be one of them." Seokjin says, shaking his head.
It's suddenly all too much. Jeongguk pushes past the police officer and past Seokjin and then he's running down the hallway, not knowing where, only knowing he just needs to get out, past the startled nurses and doctors and into the nearest empty hospital room he can find. The second he's inside, he drops to his knees and releases the contents of his stomach into the nearby trashcan, feebly wretching until he's dry heaving, shoulders wracked with sobs. He sits up slightly, wipes his mouth. This is what his life has resorted to. His best friend shot because of him, his other best friend disgusted by him. Crying and puking like the pathetic excuse for a human he is in an empty hospital room.
At least, he thought the hospital room was empty.
"Jeongguk?"
He would know that voice anywhere.
Jeongguk looks up, holding back the second wave of nausea the voice has inflicted. How could he not notice that they had driven to Busan?
"Haneul." He rasps. His emotionally exhausted mind struggles to process that the beautiful girl he's been completely smittennwith for the past few months is here, in front of him, in the flesh. Pastel yellow scrubs are worn beneath a white lab coat, her long black hair is tossed up into a messy pony tail, and her face is bare of makeup. She's stunning, but she isn't smiling. She's concerned, surprised, frowning in worry. Before Jeongguk can protest, she's approaching him, kneeling next to him.
"Jeongguk." She murmurs softly, gently resting her hand on his shaking shoulder. Her other palm is then on his cheek, caressing the tear stained skin. It feels right. Though Jeongguk is not in the least okay, her touch is comforting. He never wanted to meet her like this, but now that she's here, he has never been more thankful for her presence. "Jeonggukkie, what's wrong? Why are you here?" She coos, her honey voice soothing Jeongguk's ears. "Don't cry."
Jeongguk shakily navigates an uncertain hand to rest atop her hand on his cheek, holding it in place, savoring the feeling, basking in her warmth.
"It's so nice to properly see you, darling. I apologize for how sudden this is." He murmurs, and a small smile graces her lips, but her concerns are clearly still there. "You're even more ethereal in person."
"Jeongguk. Tell me what happened." She prompts him again, but the blush on her cheeks doesn't go unnoticed by him. He has to tell her now. No more lies, no more half-truths. No more Jeon Jeongguk, 21 from Seoul who works in a coffee shop.
"Haneul, I—"
The door opens so harshly it slams against the wall, and Haneul jumps, gripping a handful of Jeongguk's shirt.
"Ma'am, get back! He's dangerous!" The officer shouts, and a few more follow him into the room. Jeongguk's eyes train on the guns, the weapons pointed at him.
"What? What the hell? Put those down!" Haneul, eyes wide but courageous nevertheless, turns Jeongguk's chin to make eye contact with him. "Jeongguk, what happened? Tell me right now!" She says, voice strained. Jeongguk manages a week smile, relishing in her touch while it lasts. "I need you to tell me what's going on."
"I'm sorry, my dear. I'm so, so sorry." He breathes out, unable to think of anything else.
"Ma'am, he needs to be taken to the station for questioning! He's a rogue Wanderer! Get back now!" The officer shouts once more, cocking his gun. Haneul's plump, pink lips fall open in shock and she pulls away her hands from his body as if he's scalding hot. Whatever's left of Jeongguk's heart breaks. Her eyes are less like Seokjin's, less disgust. More fear, more doubt, a hint of confusion.
She scrambles backwards until her back hits the wall. Jeongguk's sure that if she could get further away from him she would. Jeongguk's tears freefall once more as his arms are grabbed and pulled behind his back. He winces as his face is pressed aggressively into the ground and handcuffs are interlocking his wrists too tightly.
"Hey, be gentle! P-Please! He isn't resisting!" Haneul attempts to shout, but her voice is weak and breaking. The officers don't listen. They forcefully yank him to his feet, his weak knees barely stable. Haneul only looks at him, beautiful eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He chokes out again through the lump in his throat.
And then he's pulled out of the hospital room, down the hallway, out the doors and crammed into the back of a police car.
He doesn't care anymore.
He's officially all alone, and he's hurt all the people he loves. Why should he?
iM UPSET MY BABIES WHY DO I DO THIS TO US
edited 05/08/20