cold feet [1]

thirty seven

namjoon's point of view

I was unsure of what to do as the blonde laid in my arms completely limp and distant. His breathing was so shallow that I could barely hear it, heart beating so slow against my arm. When I touched his forehead it burnt my hand to the point where I couldn't keep up contact for more than ten seconds. Why had he said 'whoops'? Did he do something to cause this? If so, what?

"Jimin!" I called towards the outside of the room, attempting to shake the blonde awake again by shoving his shoulder and rubbing his sternum. But this time there was no response, Taehyung was completely unconscious, left to fall apart in a void of his own doing. My call for the other's help fell to an empty hallway, no reply being heard.

Shit, they left.

I looked down at Taehyung, brushing his fringe away from his eyes to see the way his face was screwed up tightly, I assumed that pain must be starting to settle in despite his insistence of there being none. With very careful movements I adjusted him so he was laying on the bed on his side with his head propped up on a pillow. I was worried if I left him he'd choke on his own blood. But I knew Jimin was more likely to get a response out of him.

"I'll be back." I promised, feeling slightly idiotic for talking to an unconscious person.

jimin's point if view

The moment Jungkook laid down on the spare bed in Yoongi's room he turned away from me and curled up into a tight ball. His hands cradled his head as he buried into a pillow. Each shudder of breath was felt on the surface of the mattress, waves of cries raking his back with tremors. It was the same way I'd found him when his nephew had died, connection completely shut off from the world. I felt helpless.

"Jungkookie," I started out softly, attempting to rest a hand on his shoulder to ground him to the space. But the moment he felt a hand on him he shoved me away.

"Leave me alone." He gritted out through nasally breaths. I moved so he could tug on the neatly placed blanket beneath him and curl up under it. I sat back watching him get comfortable, biting my own lip in worry.

"Jungkook I just want to know what he did that's making you so upset."

"Go ask him yourself, I'm sure he'll be happy to tell you." Was the younger's harsh reply then he didn't speak again no matter the questions I continued to ask him.

Leaving the raven boy to get lost in his own misery, I exited the room with the intention of heading straight for where Tae was still hopefully with Namjoon. My path was blocked though when the aforementioned older was making his way up the stairs with a grim urgency.

"Joon?" I queried anxiously, running up to him and looking down the stairs to the landing of the second floor where Taehyung should be.

"He's unconscious, I can't wake him back up," he spoke hurriedly, pulling on my arm to direct me down the stairs. "I need you to speak to him, get him awake, fuck I don't know. I'm worried he's going to die." I tried my best not to make a cocky remark about him deserving it, a conflicting belief of mine that was challenged by the capacity I now knew he had to show compassion.

"I'll speak to him and try... try not to punch him." Namjoon gave me a grave look, shaking his head in warning.

"You need serious therapy for your issues," he spoke gruffly, stopping us outside the door to the room. "I'm trusting you to make the right decisions for him. I sense he's not... normal, and that is the only reason I have not called an ambulance. Make the right choice, not the selfish one." I nodded in understanding, locking my hand with his and squeezing tight to confirm a silent promise.

Then I turned and pushed the door to the room open, stepping into the dark room to see the silhouette of a gravely ill boy sprawled out on the the bed. He wasn't moving and his eyes were slitted open slightly with the whites of his eyes visible in the dim light. With several cautious steps I slowly took a seat at the edge of the bed to look over his condition. Even if only ten minutes had passed, he looked like he had aged fifty years, waiting impatiently for death's greetings.

"Why are you here?" He croaked out from nothing but the slight movement of his lips, the persistent drool of blood on the sheets not even being acknowledged by the one I had thought was still unconscious. His voice was so light and empty that I almost didnt hear what he had said, leaning in to close the distance.

"To see if you're okay," I stuttered out, torn apart by all these emotions I couldn't leash.

"I'm fine. You can go now." I didn't move and neither did he, eyes still whited out and lips barely moving.

"Tae." That caught his attention. It had been seven years since I had called him by that name, so bringing it back was a shock to the blonde. "What happened? You told me you couldn't get sick. That you couldn't die. What's this all about?" Taehyung shifted himself slowly using his elbows to lift his weighy so he was staring up at me. He looked horrorific, something straight out of a horror movie with his sickly grey skin contrasted by the deep black of his outfit, all brought together into one frightful nightmare with the carelessness of his own blood covering his skin. For what felt like hours the two of us stared at each other, Taehyung trying to find the energy to speak. With the way his eyes could hold my gaze, I knew this was the person I had once loved, filled with a deep sense of guilt and fear that the other part of him would not dare show.

"It's my fault." He whispered finally, earning a questioning look from me. "I blamed Jungkook, but, he doesn't even know."

"Okay mr riddler, care to explain what's your fault." He mumbled something I couldn't make out, his gaze dropping and lip beginning to bleed when he bit down hard onto it. "I'm sorry, I didn't get that."

"I kissed him."

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