BTS One Shots

Shy Away

One shots (Namjoon):

🎤 Don't you shy away, manifest a ceiling when you shy away, searching for that feeling.

Just like an "I love you" that isn't words, like a song he wrote that's never heard.

Don't you (sh). 🎤

The late afternoon sun was shining through the open window of the hospital room, giving the plain white room a golden glow.

The room was silent, besides the sound of the low buzzing of the TV, and the occasional beeping of the machines, which were monitoring a young teenager's heart rate, and blood pressure.

He had chestnut brown hair and golden hazel eyes, which were focused on the afternoon news that was playing on the TV in the room.

He was dressed in a light blue hospital gown, along with matching socks, and was wearing a plastic wristband on his left wrist.

A wristband that read: Namjoon Kim, age 16.

He was born with a heart defect, making his heart weak, meaning that it could fail at any time.

Which was why he grew up in and out of hospitals, and was given multiple different medications from different doctors that didn't seem to do anything.

Thankfully, though, his father, Seokjin, was a cardiologist himself, meaning that he took this seriously, wanting his son to have a high chance of surviving.

That was why he was currently inside a hospital room inside Seoul National Hospital, which was the best hospital in all of the city.

That was also the hospital that his father worked at as the head doctor of the cardiology department.

He wasn't the doctor working on his son, though- that was his coworker, Hoseok Jung, who he trusted, knowing that he was the best doctor for his son.

He knew that his son was in safe hands, since he trusted every doctor in his department to do their job, and take care of his son.

His thoughts were interrupted by the hospital room door opening, his father appearing in the doorway.

His black hair was messy on top of his head, and he was wearing his white medical coat, which had his name embroidered onto the left pocket.

Dr. Seokjin Kim.

He closed the door behind him, before sitting down in the white plastic chair that was besides the hospital bed, placing the brown paper bag onto the table that was also next to the bed.

"I brought food," he said, keeping his voice soft and calm, taking out two styrofoam containers.

The teenager just ignored him, though, continuing to watch the afternoon news on the TV with uninterest, used to this.

His father did this daily, always spending his lunch break with him, eating lunch and checking his emails.

And he hated it- he just wanted to go home, and spend time with his dog, Moni, who was an American Eskimo.

But he knew that couldn't happen until his heart got out of the danger zone; whenever that would be.

He heard his father sigh, which could only mean that he was stressed, both from his job, and from the fact that his son- his only son- wasn't cooperating.

"I know you don't want to be here, Namjoon," he said, opening up the styrofoam containers, along with a pack of chopsticks that he packed from home.