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⚠️flashback of domestic abuse
It's cold outside. Snowing and ridiculously cold.
It gets like this every year but it feels like a drastic drop after the blistering heat of the summer and even the lukewarm winds of autumn. This kind of cold makes a person not want to step foot outside at all. Not even to go out and eat for dinner.
Yoongi waits patiently by the front doors of the hospital as he looks out for the delivery driver. The plan was to go to the pizza shop with Taehyung but he had an emergency surgery two hours before the dinner hour. He knew that he wasn't going to make it.
The man that had been rushed in by EMTs had been in a bar fight. The man that he was fighting smashed a liquor bottle into his face, leaving thick shards of glass in various sizes and shapes stuck into his skin.
It was a four hour surgery to removes the glass. But now the injuries sustained pose a bigger threat. It's been two hours since the surgery and the patient woke up thirty minutes ago telling the nurses that he couldn't see anything out of his right eyes. His vision is extremely blurred and some spots are blacking out.
He's getting a CT and an MRI scan done to determine exactly what's causing the blinding. His team will go from there once they get the scans and results back.
Yoongi yawns and covers his mouth as he sees the delivery driver approaching with his food. He takes out the fifty dollar bill from his pocket and hands it to him as he's given the bag of food.
"Oh, wow. Thank you so much." The man says, gratefully.
"You're welcome. Drive safe out there."
"Thank you. I will. Have a great night!" He calls as he walks away to his vehicle.
He doesn't want to spend too much time with the whipping winds of the cold. And Yoongi doesn't want to hold him up from the warmth of his vehicle either.
"You, too!" Yoongi calls back before turning around and walking through the first floor.
He goes to the elevator and rides it up to the fourth floor where his favorite break room is. It's the one that he's most familiar with being that it's the trauma department's.
When the elevator doors open, he walks out into the hall and down to the room. He sets his food at an empty round table and washes his hands at the sink.
When he's finished, he sits at the table and takes his food out of the bag. The warm smells of the angus beef burger and crinkle cut fries waft into him, making his water and his stomach grumble. He hasn't eaten anything in almost seven hours. He's becoming famished.
