Kkangpae (Pt.1)

Lo Cominciare

"Stay with me love--- no, look at me!" Rosaline's voice clung to her throat and spilled from her lips in peals of trembling syllables. To anyone but her, these few words would have not sounded remotely coherent, but instead the tremulous spoutings of a child who could not find her parents. A gaze was spared at the boy who laid on the passenger seat of her car-- his black t-shirt was drenched in pools of crimson that had seeped into the lining of her car, and his eyes were shut tightly as he murmured. "I'm going to die, Rose. Just stop the car already." A pale hand had been placed atop the gaping gun wound that lay square in the center of his chest, and the red had stained porcelain skin to a point where the girl could no longer recognized the hands she had so feverently cherished for the past 5 years. When had she become such an integral part of this mess?

She wove the red mini-cooper through endless rows traffic, hearing the panicked yelps of pedestrians and the cars whose owners had not released the horn since she began to drive. At this point she couldn't be sure whether the ringing in her ears was that of the noise she was creating or her brain giving out from the intense amount of pressure. Yoongi's life was resting on her hands-- and she wasn't sure that she could hold him up any much longer without collapsing beside him. "FUCK" She could see the headlights, sirens blaring just a few meters of distance from her rear, just what she had needed. The cop pulled up beside her, a bored expression in his pair of olive rimmed eyes. "I'M LOSING HIM, FUCK. HELP. I NEED HELP. HE NEEDS HELP. NOW" Upon stepping closer the cop's jaw dropped at the sight and he raced back to his own vehicle, taking the lead with the both headlights and sirens on blast as he attempted to clear some traffic for the girl and the dying boy.

Once the run-down creme walls came into view, Rose's tires came to full stop, skidding against the pavement, and she jumped out the car, screaming. But, who could blame her.."I NEED A STRETCHER" her arms flailed violently, heart pounding though her fingertips. Nurses clamoured around the tiny car, opening the passenger door and lifting the unconscious Yoongi from his seat. Blood dripped from every limb, thick, droplets painting the colorless pavement a bright scarlet. He was losing too much blood. And all Rose could do was watch in horror. Her entire frame lurched forward as she tried her best to keep up with the nurses who were rushing him into the operating room. Once again she found herself unable to speak as someone urged her to stay where she was and fill out the paperwork necessary.

Rose stood at the doorway for what seemed like centuries. Awestruck and unable to do much other than stand, teardrops had mingled with mascara and pooled underneath her eyes. A few moments passed before she could remotely function and fish her phone out from the pocket of her jeans. She called the first number on the list-- Dahye. Straight to voicemail. "Yoongi is dying, HE IS FUCKING DYING. Where the fuck are you?? He needs you." Her voice had dropped from its despairing yelp into a pleading hum. 'Where the hell is she?"

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There was one thing Rose had never understood. Ever since Dahye had met Yoongi, she was head over heals, completely mad over him. She had, in fact pulled him away from Rose's grip. Yet, now that he was in need of her she was nowhere to be found.

"Ma'am, you need to fill this out please." An elderly woman called to rose from the greeting desk, arm outstretched with a clipboard in hand. "Are you related to the patient?" Silence. Rose took a step closer to the woman, cautiously aiming her gaze downwards-- to stare at nothing in particular. "I-- uh" Another pause. "Are you his sibling? Girlfriend? Wife? We need someone to take responsibility for him. You brought him in, correct." The woman's glasses slid down her nose, and beady eyes peered up at rose over the lenses. "I-- I did, yes." "okay, what is the patient's name?" "yoongi" "Full name, please." The woman's thick fingers slowly typed on an old keyboard. "I don't know" Pause. The woman's fingers stopped altogether and she reached to take the unanswered papers away from Rose.

See, the problem with this was that Yoongi kept to himself. No one knew more than that which he wanted them to. Last name? Most called him "Suga"-- It was a play on his personality, for this boy was anything but sweet...

As Rose slumped back in her chair, she heard the familiar ringtone and the buzz that accompanied it, putting the phone up to her ear. "Dahye!" Static. "What do you mean Yoongi is dying? Is this some kind of joke?" A loud scoff of distaste parted Rose's lips. "Do I fucking sound like I'm joking? He's dying. He's in pain, Dahye. I don't know if he'll make it. He needs you." There was a moment, where Rose had to think Dahye ended their call-- there was no sound coming from the end of the receiver, but a quick look at the cellphone's clouded screen was enough to discredit the thought. And, soon enough Rose could hear a soft chuckle. "Yoongi's dying. HA. Yoongi is dying. He's fucking dying. Let him die. That's obviously what he wants. " The line went dead, and Rose had known that there would be no point in calling Dahye again. She wasn't going to pick up.

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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNND the chapter ends here my lovely boys and girls. I'll probably have chapter 2 up within the week since I'm totally feeling this story. Leave me some feedback, I totally appreciate it.