Mystery | Yoonmin

39. Please get better

Namjoon sat outside the emergency room, his leg bouncing restlessly as he stared at the swinging doors Yoongi had disappeared through. His hands were trembling, still slick with Yoongi's blood. He rubbed them against his jeans in a futile attempt to erase the sensation. His throat was dry, his thoughts tangled with fear and regret.

When he'd found Yoongi in the ring, crumpled on the floor like a broken doll, something in him snapped. He'd never seen Yoongi like that-so lifeless, so fragile. Namjoon had lied to the hospital staff, telling them he found Yoongi beaten on the road. He couldn't risk anyone finding out about the underground boxing matches. But now, as he sat in the cold, sterile hallway, he realized he had no one to call.

Yoongi had no family, no one who would rush to his side. No one except...

Jimin.

Namjoon hesitated for a moment, pulling out his phone. He scrolled to Jimin's number, staring at it as if it might bite him. Yoongi never talked much about Jimin, but Namjoon knew enough. He'd seen the way Yoongi's walls would falter when Jimin's name came up, the way he carried something unspoken in his eyes.

Namjoon hit the call button. It rang, and rang, and rang. No answer. He tried again. And again. Eleven calls later, he gave up, letting out a frustrated sigh as he buried his face in his hands.

Inside the emergency room, the doctors are working on Yoongi, but Namjoon couldn't stop the creeping fear in his chest. What if Yoongi didn't make it? What if this was it?

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Across the city, Jimin shot upright in bed, a strangled scream tearing from his throat. His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, but his heart was racing, his forehead slick with sweat.

The nightmare had been so vivid, so real. Shadows of guilt and anger chased him even as he sat there, trembling. His body ached from the hits he'd taken the day before, the bruises on his face a stark reminder of his fight with Yoongi. But it isn't the physical pain that hurt the most. It was everything else Yoongi's words echoing in his mind, haunting him.

He glanced at the clock. Almost 10 p.m. He rubbed his face, his fingers brushing over the swollen skin on his cheek. Taehyung hadn't come back to the dorm. That is unusual.

"Where is he?" Jimin mumbled to himself, his worry growing. He grabbed his phone to call Taehyung but froze when he saw the screen. Eleven missed calls.

His heart dropped as he stared at the name flashing on the screen. Namjoon.

"Why..." he muttered, his fingers tightening around the phone. His mind raced with possibilities. Why was Namjoon calling him? What did he want? The sinking feeling in his stomach told him it wasn't good.

Jimin swallowed hard, his thumb hovering over the call button. Part of him wanted to ignore it, to pretend he didn't see the calls. But something deep inside him a wavering concern, a gnawing sense of dread pushed him to press the button.

The phone began to ring, and Jimin braced himself, his heart pounding as he waited for Namjoon to pick up.

The phone was picked up almost instantly, as if Namjoon had been waiting for this exact moment.

"Hello?" Jimin's voice is hoarse, strained with exhaustion and unease.

"Jimin," Namjoon's voice cracked on the other end, his usual composure shattered. "You need to come to the hospital. It's Yoongi."

Jimin froze. For a moment, his mind refused to process the words. His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles going white. "What... what happened?"

Namjoon hesitated, his heavy breathing audible through the line. "He's... he's in bad shape. I don't know if he's going to make it. Please, just get here."