A Beautiful Enigma (VMIN FF)

Bonus

The hospital hallway was quiet, its usual echo dulled to a soft hum of distant voices and the gentle whir of machines. The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting a sterile, pale glow that made the white walls appear even colder. Faint scuff marks traced the linoleum floor, evidence of countless footsteps—of doctors in sneakers, nurses in clogs, visitors dragging their feet.

It wasn't crowded, but life moved steadily within it. A pair of nurses in scrubs the color of faded seafoam passed by, their steps brisk and purposeful, murmuring softly to each other about test results and shift changes. One clutched a clipboard, the other a tray of medication. Their presence was efficient, practiced—a rhythm in the quiet.

Along the wall to the right, a row of plastic chairs supported a handful of people. A man sat hunched forward, elbows on knees, wringing his hands as he stared blankly at the tiled floor. Beside him, a young woman flipped through a magazine she wasn't really reading, her foot bouncing in nervous repetition. A child clung to her mother's arm a few seats down, their whispers muffled but comforting.

The air held the faint scent of antiseptic—sharp, clean, yet tinged with something human: worry, fatigue, hope. A monitor beeped distantly, steady and unfazed.

Even in its stillness, the hallway pulsed with quiet emotion—tension in the shoulders, weariness in the eyes, a kind of collective holding of breath. Everyone waited, some with patience, others with barely concealed anxiety, all bound by the silent gravity of a place that held both healing and heartbreak.

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At the far end of the hallway, where a vending machine flickered with tired lights, Jimin stood with his arm gently around Taehyung's shoulders. Taehyung leaned into the touch, eyes fixed on the pattern of the tiles. His fingers fluttered slightly at his sides, a small sign of his anxious energy. Jimin noticed it right away, as he always did, and gave his husband's shoulder a soft squeeze.

"I counted twenty-seven light panels Minnie", Taehyung murmured, his voice low, "but the one above room 204 is flickering. Every 11 seconds."

Jimin smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Taehyung's face. "That one always bugs you, doesn't it?"

Taehyung nodded, his eyes still locked on the ceiling. "It's not s-symmetrical."

Across the hallway, Namjoon and Jin sat together on a bench. Jin tapped away at his phone, half-focused, while Namjoon scribbled in a tiny notepad with a battered pen. Their fingers brushed occasionally—small, habitual touches that spoke of years of comfort. Jin looked up and caught Jimin's gaze, offering a reassuring smile.

"He's been counting lights again?" he asked, nodding toward Taehyung. He has picked up this habit over the years to cope with anxiety and nervousness.

Jimin chuckled softly. "Of course. It's either that or analyzing the floor tiles."

Near the nurse's station, Jungkook leaned against the wall, his hand entwined with Marie's. She wore a navy cardigan over a floral blouse, her expression calm but alert. They had met years ago at the tech company where Jungkook worked in cybersecurity—Marie had been in product design. Even now, their connection felt like a quiet undercurrent between them.

Jungkook checked his watch. "Still no word?"

"Nothing yet," Jin replied. "But they said it could take a while. It's a busy night."

Just then, laughter echoed faintly from behind—a warm, contagious sound. Yoongi and Hoseok had just arrived, Yoongi in an oversized black hoodie, Hoseok in a bomber jacket far too bright for a hospital hallway. Their arrival added a buzz to the air. Hoseok held two coffees, one of which he offered to Jimin with a wink.