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38: wilting flowers

Taehyung still sat outside the hospital room, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. The cold, hard plastic of the seat dug into his skin, but he didn't move.

He stared at the floor, his jaw clenched. He didn't belong here. What was the point of staying? She never cared. Not when he was a kid crying himself to sleep, not when he begged her to just stop—to stop drinking, to stop yelling, to stop pretending like he was the problem.

He let out a bitter chuckle. Why the hell did he come?

She wouldn't have done the same for him. If their roles were reversed, if he were the one in that hospital bed, fighting for his life—would she have even stayed? Or would she have left the moment she realized he wasn't worth the effort?

He should leave. She asked him to leave.

He should get up, walk out of this place, and never look back.

But his body refused to move.

Jungkook sat beside him, silent, as if sensing the war raging in his mind. He didn't say anything, didn't offer meaningless comfort, didn't tell him to stay. He just existed beside him, and for some reason, that made it harder for Taehyung to breathe.

His fingers curled into fists. Why does it still hurt?

He hated her. He should hate her.

A sudden noise snapped him out of his thoughts.

The door to the hospital room burst open, and a nurse rushed out, her face pale. "Doctor! We need you in here, now!"

Taehyung froze.

His body went cold, his heart slamming against his ribs. He didn't think—he just moved. His legs carried him inside before he could convince himself to stay out.

And then he saw her.

"She's going into cardiac distress," someone said, pressing fingers against her wrist.

Taehyung felt his stomach drop.

"What's happening? S-she was fine-" His voice cracked.

"The overdose weakened her organs more than we thought," a nurse answered, adjusting the oxygen mask. "Her body—it's shutting down."

"No, no—she was out of danger. You said she was-"

A long, piercing sound rang through the room.

The heart monitor flatlined.

"No-"

"Starting compressions!"

Someone moved him back as they began CPR. The doctor called for emergency meds, a defibrillator was brought in, nurses worked quickly to get her heart beating again.

Taehyung could only watch, hands clenched, heart pounding in his ears.

Nurses scrambled around her bed, hands pressing against her chest. A doctor shouted something-"Charge to 200!"-and then there was a jolt, her body arching before falling back against the mattress.

Taehyung's breath caught in his throat.

Another shock.

Then another.

But she wasn't moving.

The long, unbroken beep of the heart monitor filled the room, cutting through the frantic voices.

Taehyung's world tilted.

He stared at her still form, at the way her fingers—fingers that once gripped liquor bottles tighter than they ever held him—lay motionless.