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36: anchor

The days passed quietly, the rhythm of life shifting as the seasons changed. The scorching heat of summer gave way to the crisp, cold winds of autumn, and with winter nearing, the weight of their college entrance exams loomed over Taehyung and Jungkook. Gone were the carefree days of laughter and play; now, their lives revolved around textbooks, notes, and the quiet hum of determination.

It was another weekend afternoon, and the two of them were seated at Jungkook’s desk, surrounded by open books and scattered papers. The room was quiet except for the occasional scratch of a pen or the rustle of pages being turned.

Jungkook was focused, his brow furrowed as he worked through a particularly challenging math problem, while Taehyung leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers as he stared at a page of notes he’d already read three times.

The peaceful silence was shattered when Taehyung’s phone rang, the sound jarring in the stillness. He frowned as he glanced at the screen, his mother’s name flashing back at him. It was rare—extremely rare—for her to call him. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time she had. She had been in and out of the house over the past few months, and for the last week, she had been gone entirely, leaving no word of where she was or when she’d return.

Jungkook looked up from his work, noticing the way Taehyung’s expression shifted as he stared at the screen. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” he asked softly.

Taehyung hesitated for a moment before swiping to accept the call, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he murmured, his voice low and cautious.

Jungkook watched as Taehyung’s face paled, his grip tightening on the phone. “H-hospital?” Taehyung stuttered, his voice trembling. His eyes widened, and he stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Jungkook was on his feet in an instant, his hand reaching out to grasp Taehyung’s wrist. “Tae, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Taehyung’s eyes were distant, his mind clearly racing as he tried to process the words coming through the phone. “Yes—yes, I’m coming,” he said hurriedly before ending the call. He turned to Jungkook, his expression a mix of shock and fear. “It’s my mom,” he said, his voice shaking. “She—she overdosed. They’re at the hospital.”

Jungkook’s heart sank, his grip on Taehyung’s wrist tightening instinctively. “Let’s go,” he said without hesitation, already grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

He noticed Taehyung was rushing toward the door, his mind clearly elsewhere, so Jungkook quickly snatched Taehyung’s jacket as well, knowing he’d forget it in his panic. The autumn air was cold, and they’d need it.

Taehyung didn’t even seem to notice, his movements frantic as they hurried out of the room. They quickly hailed a cab outside, the cold wind biting at their faces as they climbed in. Taehyung gave the driver the hospital’s address, his voice barely steady as he spoke. Jungkook kept a hand on Taehyung’s knee, offering silent reassurance as the cab sped through the streets.

The drive felt endless, the city lights blurring past the windows as Taehyung stared blankly ahead, his hands clenched into fists. Jungkook wanted to say something—anything—to comfort him, but words felt inadequate in the face of such a situation. Instead, he simply held onto Taehyung, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Taehyung practically ran out of the cab, Jungkook quickly handed the fare to the cab driver before getting out and rushing through the automatic doors, behind Taehyung.

The sterile smell of antiseptic hit them as they entered. Taehyung approached the front desk, his voice trembling as he asked for his mother.

The nurse directed them to the operation room, and Taehyung’s steps quickened as they made their way down the long hallway. When they reached the waiting area outside the operation room, Taehyung sank into one of the hard plastic chairs, his leg bouncing nervously. Jungkook sat beside him, his hand resting on Taehyung’s back, rubbing small, comforting circles.

Minutes felt like hours as they waited, the tension in the air thick and suffocating. Taehyung’s knee kept bouncing, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh. Jungkook wanted to say something, to offer some kind of comfort, but he knew there were no words that could ease the fear in Taehyung’s heart. So, he stayed silent, his presence a steady reminder that Taehyung wasn’t alone.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doors to the operation room swung open, and a doctor stepped out, his face calm but weary. Taehyung shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest as he approached the doctor.

“Is she—?” Taehyung started, his voice breaking before he could finish the question.

The doctor nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile. “She’s out of danger,” he said, his tone gentle. “The procedure went well, and she’s stable for now. But we’ll keep her under observation for a while.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

The doctor hesitated for a moment, glancing between Taehyung and Jungkook. “Is there an adult with you? A guardian or family member?” he asked carefully.

Taehyung shook his head shakily, his voice barely above a whisper. “No… it’s just me.”

The doctor’s expression softened, and he nodded. “I see. Well, your mother is stable for now, but this… this isn’t just a physical issue. She needs help—proper help. What happened today is a sign of a much larger problem. She needs rehabilitation, a program to help her overcome her addiction. Without it, this could happen again, and next time… it might not end so well.”

Taehyung’s breath hitched, his hands trembling at his sides. “Rehabilitation?” he repeated, his voice hollow. “But… will she even agree to that? She’s never… she’s never wanted help before.”

The doctor sighed, his expression sympathetic. “It’s not easy, I know. But it’s necessary. I can provide you with some resources, information about facilities and programs that could help her. But ultimately, it’s up to her to take that step.”

Taehyung nodded numbly, his mind racing as the doctor handed him a pamphlet and a few papers. “Thank you,” he murmured, though his voice sounded distant, like he wasn’t fully present.

The doctor gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Taehyung and Jungkook alone in the hallway. Taehyung stared down at the papers in his hands, his vision blurring as the weight of the situation crashed down on him.

“I don’t know what to do,” Taehyung whispered, his voice breaking. “How am I supposed to convince her to go to rehab? She’s never listened to me before. She’s never… she’s never cared enough to try.”

Jungkook stepped closer, his hand resting on Taehyung’s shoulder. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he said softly. “For now, she’s safe. That’s what matters. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay? You’re not alone in this, Tae. I’m here.”

Taehyung turned to look at him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He didn’t say anything, but the gratitude in his gaze was enough. Jungkook pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him as the emotions he’d been holding back finally spilled over.

They stood there in the quiet of the hospital hallway, the weight of the world pressing down on them. But even in the midst of the chaos, Jungkook’s presence was a steady anchor, a reminder that Taehyung didn’t have to face this alone.

☆☆☆

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