Bloom in the darkness

Chapter 2

Jungkook's eyes snapped to the stranger, a man with messy hair and a gentle smile that seemed to hold a world of understanding. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak, his thoughts a jumble of questions. Who was this man? What did he want? But as he took in the stranger's concerned expression, the words tumbled out of him like a dam bursting. "No," he managed to say, his voice cracking with emotion.

The man took a tentative step forward, his eyes never leaving Jungkook's. "Are you okay?"

Jungkook sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Yeah," he lied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just tired."

The stranger hovered by the door, unsure if he should stay or leave. "Well, if you need anything, I'm just down the hall. I'm Taehyung, by the way." He offered a shy smile, his eyes a warm brown that seemed to hold the promise of a thousand untold stories.

Jungkook felt a flicker of curiosity, a feeling that had been lost in the haze of his pain. "Thanks," he murmured, managing a small smile in return.

That man lingered for a moment longer before nodding and backing out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Jungkook stared at the spot where he had been, the silence of the room now feeling heavier than ever. He had forgotten what it was like to have a conversation that didn't revolve around his health, his treatments, his future. 

With a sigh, Jungkook reached for the pad of paper and a pen on his bedside table. The rain had become a soothing white noise, and he found his hand moving almost of its own accord, sketching the droplets as they danced down the windowpane. Each line was a silent testament to his thoughts, a visual representation of the storm that raged both outside and within. He had always loved to draw, another passion that had been pushed aside by the relentless march of time and his own failing body.

His father's footsteps approached, the familiar rhythm bringing Jungkook's head up. The door swung open, and there he was, wearing an Iron Man mask. Jungkook couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest, a laugh that was a mix of surprise and amusement. His father's eyes crinkled at the corners as he took in his son's reaction. "I am Iron Man of my Ggukie," he said, his voice muffled by the plastic.

Jungkook's chuckle grew into a full-blown smile, the first genuine one in days. "Papa," he said, his voice a mix of affection and exasperation. His father's antics had always been a balm to his soul, a way to find joy in the darkest of moments. He took the mask, running his fingers over the red and gold, feeling the love and warmth that had gone into the gesture.

For a brief moment, the hospital room was transformed into a stage for their own private show, the mask a symbol of the strength that his father hoped to instill in him. Jungkook placed it on his own face, the plastic cold against his skin. He could see the reflection of the rain in the mask's eyes, the droplets a stark contrast to the heroic visage. He felt a warmth spread through him, a spark of the courage that had once been so easy to find.

His father sat beside him, taking Jungkook's hand in his own. The room was quiet, save for the distant beeping of machines and the occasional gust of wind. Jungkook felt the weight of his father's gaze, the unspoken words that hung heavy in the air. But he didn't need words to know that he was loved, that he was not alone in this fight.

"Papa," Jungkook began, his voice muffled by the mask, "do you think Iron Man ever felt scared?" His father's eyes searched his, understanding the deeper meaning behind the question.

"Every hero feels fear, Ggukie," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But it's what they do with that fear that makes them heroes. They face it, they stand tall, and they keep fighting." Jungkook nodded, the mask's plastic eyes reflecting the room's soft light.