With lashes that feel like lead, I open my eyes. LEDs buzz above me, the brightness of them stinging my unadjusted eyes. I squeeze my eyes shut, a groan working its way out of me-just to be muffled by something in my throat.
My eyes shoot open, panic filling me. I peer down my nose and although my vision is fuzzy, I swear I see something sticking out of my mouth.
Is-Is that a tube?
My heart races, an insistent beeping noise to my left only working to increase my panic-ridden confusion. I try to scream for help, but it comes out as a muffled jumble of noises. The beeping increases, steadily rising in volume, all sorts of alarms sounding through the room, assaulting my senses.
I hear a sliding noise and the stomping of feet as someone rushes to my side. The room falls silent as the alarms die off and, if I didn't have a tube down my throat, I would sigh with relief. A man's face hovers above me, a smile pulling at his lips. "Well hello there!" He says cheerily before his face disappears, the hum of a motor replacing his voice as my bed sits up, giving me my first real look at my surroundings.
Pink curtains wave by the windows, a soft breeze filtering in from outside. My eyes travel around the room, taking in the blue walls, the checkered chair pushed up against the wall, and they land on the man standing by my bed, his green scrubs easing a bit of my nerves.
"Mmmph," I grumble, the tube in my throat keeping me from forming any actual words.
The takes a step closer to me, pity in his blue eyes. "Don't try to talk. I'll get the doctor and he'll get that tube out of your throat, okay?" I nod my head, trying my best to stay calm, but that's pretty hard to do when you have a tube down your throat. I drop my head back, letting it sink into the pillow behind me, and count the specks on the ceiling.
When I reach 68, the door slides open. I raise my head to look, my neck aching with the small movement, the man I recognize as my nurse enters, followed by a man that can't be much older than me, the white coat he wears identifying him as a doctor. They approach me slowly, each one taking a side of the bed.
"Hello, Hoseok," the doctor greets, giving me a dimpled smile. "My name in Dr. Kim. Are you ready to get that tube out?" I nod, eager to be able to speak again. He smiles at my enthusiasm. "Great. Just lay back and relax, okay?" I do as instructed, resuming my counting as Dr. Kim and the nurse work on freeing me. "Okay, Hoseok. We're going to pull it out now, okay? Just stay calm." I take a deep breath in through my nose, trying to calm my nerves. I feel a tugging sensation, a gag escaping me as they pull the tube free of my throat. I cough weakly, my throat aching with each one.
The door slides open once again and my eyes meet Jimin's red-rimmed ones. Shock flits over his features: eyes going wide, mouth dropping. A grin spread across his face, his whole demeanor changing as he looks at me. "Hoseok!" He runs across the room, gathering me in his arms. My body aches from the hold, but I don't want to pull away. I lift my hand, which takes considerable effort, and pat his back.
"Hi Chim." The words come out rapsy, my words cracking in places. Dr. Kim reaches out to me, a cup of water in his hand.
"Drink, Hoseok. Your throat is probably dry, right?" Jimin releases me, but doesn't move form his spot by the bed, so I can grab the water, my hand shaking as I lift it to my mouth. I take a drink, a sigh leaving me as the water eases the fire in my throat. When I finish the glass, I place the cup back into Dr. Kim's waiting hand and he gives me a smile, his dimples once again popping out. "Feeling better?"
"Much," I say, my voice coming out much stronger.
He throws the cup away, moving to stand back by my bed. He looks between Jimin and I, his features darkening. "What do you remember, Hoseok?" I tilt my head in confusion, unsure of what he means.
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," I admit. Jimin rushes forward, grabbing my hand.
"Is that bad?" His eyes dart between me and the doctor, his brows furrowing in worry. "Should he remember?"
"It's fairly common for trauma victims not to remember what happened to them," Dr. Kim states, his eyes traveling over the chart in his hand. "It's the brain's way of protecting itself. And from what I see here-" He flips through the pages. "-this is something that you are probably better off not remembering."
"Would someone care to explain all this to me?" I growl, frustration filling me.
Dr. Kim nods slowly, his glasses sliding down his nose. "You were in an accident, Hoseok." I watch him, waiting for him to go one, but he says nothing. He just watches me, searching for any kind of reaction to what he just said.
"I gathered that much," I say grumpily, crossing my arms over my chest. "Explain more to me."
If Dr. Kim is bothered by my demanding tone, he's very good at hiding it. I'm not surprised, he is a doctor after all. He probably deals with cranky patients every day. "You were hit by a car. You came in with very serious injuries." Once again he flips through the chart, reading off the list of injuries. "Your spleen had ruptured from the initial impact, so we had to remove it. Your arm was broken. Most of the damage was done to your legs, though. It seems when the car hit you, it ran over both of your legs, greatly damaging your knees and breaking your tibias." He pulls out two x-rays, placing them on a lightbox. "This one-" he points to the one on the left "-is from when you arrived. As you can see here," his fingers trace down the picture, outlining the breaks in my kneecaps, "your knee caps were severely broken. And your tibias," his finger travels down farther, where splinter of bones were missing. Jimin gasps at the sight, but I don't look at him. My eyes are focused on the x-rays, dread pooling in my stomach. "Your tibias were broken as well. If you look here," Dr. Kim points to the second set of x-rays, "You'll see that we placed pins in your knees to fix the breaks. We also placed a cast on your legs." And just then it dawns on me.
If my arms and legs are broken, where are the casts?
I pat myself down frantically, feeling no casts. There is only my skin, and small puckered scars on my legs and stomach. Panic sets in, the beeping form earlier returning as my heart rate skyrockets. Jimin calls my name, but it sounds like he's calling me from underwater. I feel like I'm drowning, my mind circling in on itself. I glance around the room frantically, and for a moment I swear I see a blur of white in the corner, but I blink and it's gone, just a figment of my panic-driven imagination.
Hands settle on my shoulders, my gaze settling on Dr. Kim as he stares at me worriedly. "Breathe, Hoseok." I do as instructed, sucking in shuddering breaths, willing my mind to settle down. After a while, I can feel myself relaxing, the beeping in the room quieting down. When I've gotten control of myself, Dr. Kim smiles at me. "I'm sure you've realized that you don't have any casts, and even the incision from your splenectomy is healed." He pauses, as if giving me time to process what he's said, to let me come to my own conclusion. When he sees that I'm still confused, he continues, speaking to me softly. "You were in a coma, Hoseok."
"A coma?"
"You were asleep for two months," Jimin cuts in, reminding me of his presence. I turn towards him, my heart breaking when I see him standing there, the effects of my condition so clear on his face. His face was thinner, his bloodshot eyes surrounded by dark circles.
"Oh, Chim," I say softly, reaching my hand out to him. "You didn't have to stay here. You could've left me."
His gaze locks on mine and I almost flinch at the anger in them. "How dare you say that?" He grabs my hand, gripping tightly. "How could I just leave you in here?" He shakes his head, his brown hair whipping around him. "I could never do that."
I nod, emotion choking me. "Thank you." He just nods, his eyes glassy.
"Well," Dr. Kim's voice interrupts the moment. "Since you're awake, that means we can talk about your life after you get out of here."
"What do you mean?"
"While you should be able to do most things, there are certain limitations. For instance," he points to my legs, "you knees won't be able to handle vigorous activities for a while. And they may not be as flexible as they once were."
My heart drops, dread pooling in my stomach. "C-Can I dance?" His face drops at my question and when his eyes meet mine, I can see the pity in them. I know what his answer is, I can see it all over his face and in the way he won't answer me, but I can't accept it. I need to hear him say it. "Can I still dance?" My yell fills the room, stinging my own ears.
"You can dance," he takes a deep breath, steeling himself to deliver the bad news. "But probably not like you used to. In fact, I would advise against it." Jimin pats me on the back in an attempt to reassure me, but I don't want his help right now. He can still dance, I can't. All my life, dance was all I ever wanted, now I can't do it anymore. Dr. Kim watches me, taking in my reaction. "Jimin would you mind stepping outside? I just need a moment with Hoseok." I can feel Jimin hesitating beside me, but eventually he gives in. His footsteps fade, disappearing as the door slides shut.
"I know this seems like the end of the world t-"
"What would you know?" I sink down in bed, bitterness overwhelming me.
"It'll get better, I promise." He pats my arm awkwardly, as if unsure of how to comfort me. "Would you like me to send Jimin home for the night?" I nod slowly, self-pity washing through me. Jimin will probably be upset, but if he comes in, he'll just try to cheer me up. I'd like to wallow for a while longer. "Okay. I'll come check on you later." I look back up to the ceiling, listening as his steps fade into the distance. I lay there, waiting for Jimin come barging in, demanding that he won't leave. He must've understood that I need to be alone right now, because that never happens. Instead I lay there, quiet surrounding me. My eyes drift shut, sleep lingering at the edge of my mind.
"Who even wants to dance anyway?"
Startled by the voice, my eyes shoot open. I sit up, my stomach aching a bit with the movement. I glance around the room, shadows darkening everything. I take deep breaths, desperate to keep my heart rate from rising. "Who's there?" I call to the shadows, my voice shaking. Silence greets me, and I take a deep breath, relief flooding me until-
"Who are you even talking to?"
A small scream escapes me as I jump, my head whipping in the direction of the voice. My throat closes off as I'm met with the sight of familiar brown eyes. He sits in a chair to my right, his pale skin glowing like a beacon in the darkness. The same eyes that I have stared into night after night for weeks, now watch me; a mischievous glint replacing the lifeless look that I'm used to seeing.
I'm bombarded with memories: an empty park, a park bench, the pale boy in front of me laying in the grass, wearing the same tired expression as he does right now. I suck in a breath, my shoulders shuddering.
My whisper fills the room like a gunshot, everything seeming to freeze as his name leaves my lips.
"Yoongi."
