Two-Sided Coin

Chapter 16

Kim Seokjin. The name raced through my mind all night. My mouth kept forming it as if testing it out after all this time.

It's funny how one picture could awaken long-forgotten feelings. I had spent years getting over him. People say that one never truly gets over their first love and I suppose they're right given how my heart was racing at the thought of him.

I realize that I 'fell in love' when I was younger than ten. Nobody would ever call it real. But it felt real at the time. I only felt that twice in my life. I honestly didn't understand it, though.

Now, I never really got to hang out with kids in school - everyone labeled me as the crazy weird kid and didn't initiate conversations with me - but I had managed to listen into their conversations. It fascinated me what they could talk about and how easily they did so.

A recurring topic I noticed was love. Everyone gossiped about who liked who and what they saw other people doing together. It didn't make sense to me. Why would one care about this so much? Pretty much every time people talked to each other, they spoke about crushes and dating. But there was a pattern that I couldn't help but pick up on; not a single boy talked about another boy and not a single girl talked about liking other girls. I just didn't understand.

In fact, I had once made the mistake of bringing this up. Long story short, water was thrown at me and I was driven out by the other kids. Not a great experience to stain my already terrible reputation.

I told Jungkook about it when we came home and he advised me to not talk about it any more. I kept my mouth shut after that.

But now, I thought of it again. Was loving another man wrong? Wasn't all love the same? Did gender change that?

The front door shut loudly, indicating Jungkook's departure and snapping me out of my thoughts. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stood, slowly making me way to the bathroom. I washed my face as usual and brushed my hair, then smoothed out my clothes, deciding right then and there that I was going to find Jin. I didn't know how, but I was going to.

Without grabbing a breakfast, I slipped out of the house, locking the door behind me. If anything, I'd get some snacks along the way. But, as always, life had a different plan for me. One second I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring down it, trying to decide where to go, the next I was knocked off of my feet, sharp pain assaulting me left hand.

"Oh my god, I am so so sorry. Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital? I can take you there," someone began rambling, kneeling next to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. I groaned in response and somehow managed to sit up, clutching my throbbing hand. The person gasped and apologized again. My pinky and fourth finger were bent at an unnatural angle and the skin around them was red and scratched.

"Let me take you to the hospital," the man said, then stood and hailed a taxi. I didn't protest as he helped me stand, then led me into the car. We sped off and the man continued to apologize.

"I'm so sorry. You just came out of nowhere and I wasn't looking. Just hang on for a moment; we're almost there. See, the hospital is just around the corner. Wait a moment, we're almost there."

I couldn't bring myself to tell him to shut up, but his rambling was wearing my nerves thin. He was right, though. Only seconds after he spoke, we arrived. He paid the fare, then helped me out. We both walked into the emergency room and someone in a flowing, white scrub came up to me.

"Hello, what is your name and reason for visit?" she asked, her voice sweet, yet somewhat strained, as if she had asked this a hundred times today. Which she probably has.

"Kim Taehyung. I injured my hand," I replied hollowly.

"I accidently knocked him over," the man next to me told her. "I will pay for his treatment fully."

She smiled at him and nodded.

"And what is your name?" she asked him.

"Min Yoongi."

"Okay, Yoongi. I will take him to a treatment room now," she told him, then put a hand on my shoulder, making me flinch, then wince as the action sent shooting pains through my hand.

"Okay," he replied nervously, then sat down in the waiting room.

I was led to what I assumed was the treatment room. What looked like a dentist's chair stood in the center and cabinets lined the back wall.

"Wait here for the nurse," she told me, then left. I sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, chewing my lip to keep from groaning in pain. Tears had sprung in the corners of my eyes, but I didn't let them fall.

Seconds later, a man walked in.

My heart stopped. It was him. I was sure of it. His hair, now bleached to a lighter brown, was styled very similarly, the bangs swooping over his whole forehead naturally and framing his face. His eyes were the same, though they now had liner. His baby fat had all but disappeared, though not to the unhealthy point mine had. Two earrings decorated his left ear and he somehow, even in his scrub, looked like he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

"Kim...Taehyung?" he guessed, snapping me out of my trance. The look on his face was similar to the one he was wearing the last time I saw his; full of fear and pity. Well, at least he recognized me. I swallowed thickly and nodded, my eyes wide. He moistened his lips and moved to stand in front of me, though he seemed slightly uncomfortable.

"Umm... Mr. Kim-"

"Jin," I suddenly voiced. He looked surprised and a bit afraid, but let me speak.

"Drop the honorifics," I ordered. It really did hurt to hear him to speak so formally after we'd become so close. He stared for a moment, then let out a short breath.

"Taehyung," he started again, his voice strained. He paused, biting his lip. "Should I just get another nurse?"

"No," I answered quickly. "Please take care of me."

Jin shifted his weight for a moment, then nodded curtly.

"Okay...Taehyung. What was the reason fo-"

"I fell and hurt my hand," I told him, slightly raising it. He let out a soft 'oh' then wrote something down on a clipboard.

"So you have any history in your fami-"

"Can't you just fix my hand?" I snapped, getting annoyed. He froze, then sighed heavily.

"I'll just put 'No' for everything," he mumbled, scribbling something, then looked back up at me. "The doctor will be right with you. You're lucky you came at the time you did; barely anyone come to the hospital at 8:00 AM on a Thursday."

I nodded, not really listening.

"Will I see you again?" I asked when he seemed to be done.

He sighed again, scratching the back of his neck. He bit his lip again (did he know he looked so beautiful doing so?). After a moment, he flipped through his stack of papers, wrote something, then ripped a piece of paper off and handed it to me.

"That's my current number," he told me in a clipped tone. "My shift's from 3:00 AM to 3:00 PM. You can call me when you get discharged."

Then he was gone with a dramatic swish of his jacket. I held back at laugh at that.

But then I got distracted by the ripped portion of lined paper in my working hand. A phone number was in fact written on it in a neat handwriting. A smile made it's way to my face and I slipped it into my jean pocket, putting it away just as a doctor walked in, ready to work.

A/N

Disclaimer: I haven't actually been to an ER recently enough to remember it well nor have I broken any bones, so sorry if some things are wrong.