What May Change [Min Yoongi FF]

Chapter 21

[A/N: OMG 500 READS OMFG GUYS BLESS YALL??? <3 Back to your scheduled content]

I fumbled for my phone and pounded in the key code as quickly as my fingers would move panicking and fucking hating myself for screwing up several times because my hands were too shaky to do this simple task. Finally I did it right and flung myself through the door, rushing into the living room to see the confrontation unfolding with volatile speed. 

Yoongi's mother stood in the kitchen, rolling her eyes and taking a swig of booze as his father and he yelled back and forth from the other room. 

"I'm taking my things and leaving like you asked, so just leave me alone!" Yoongi shouted. 

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking too so rudely?"  His father sneered, shoving Yoongi with all his might. He dropped the box in his hands and hit a table on the way down. 

"Yoongi!" I screamed and ran to his side. Yoongi rolled over and winced, looking winded by the fall. "Come on, get up and let's just get out of here," I begged, helping him to his feet. 

"Yah, don't you think you should introduce your girlfriend to your parents, son? I mean look at her, waltzing into someone else's house like she owns the place-"

"Shut the hell up you fucking monster," I snarled. 

"You little bitch," the man growled and moved towards me and before anyone could stop him or recognize was happening-

Slap.

I staggered and went down, ears ringing and my face tingling with stinging pain. I was dazed. But Yoongi was not. 

He closed on him like a crazed bull and punched him with such force in the jaw his father spit blood as he stumbled into the chair beside him. 

"Don't you ever touch her," Yoongi threatened, panting. 

"Oh please," His father hissed. "I know I taught you to hit harder than that." 

He rushed at Yoongi and the two collided, struggling to fend off the others attacks. Yoongi managed to hold off his dad's punches as I managed to come back to my senses and start to stand up. The next few seconds proceeded in the blink of an eye, but changed everything. 

Yoongi managed to land another hit on his dad, and his mother rose up to step in. 

Yoongi's dad caught Yoongi and threw him down towards the side table.

Yoongi tried to break his fall with his hand, but the force was so great the table crumpled and so did Yoongi.

Yoongi's mother started to swoop past me and go for Yoongi.

I couldn't let that happen. Without even knowing what came over me, I took the stance Yoongi had taught me. I grabbed her, spun her to face me, and before you had a second to react, I swung.

Yoongi, looking scared for his life, took a nearby chair in his left hand and threw it with all his might at his father to keep him away. 

It landed right in his face, and Yoongi's dad was down.

My hit landed solid, and I watched Yoongi's mother topple over like a house of cards.

Yoongi managed to get up, and I grabbed his arm and we bolted.

Out the door.

Down the stairs.

Onto the street.

It was several blocks before Yoongi staggered into the wall of a shop, clutching his right arm to his chest. Grimacing, a whimper of pain escaped his lips. 

"Yoongi," I panted, "Is it broken? Oh my god, we have to get to a hospital," I panicked. 

He shook his head fervently.

"We can't. I don't have insurance. They'll try to contact my parents." He managed. 

"Okay...okay," I mumbled, trying everything to hold back tears. "The military hospital," I concluded. "They won't refuse a patient. I'll get my dad to pick us up, we'll figure something out. They won't have your info and all the doctors are American. It'll be fine." Yoongi tried to complain but I was already dialing.

"Dad! Please come pick me up. We're in Gangnam and Yoongi's hurt. I can't explain now but we need to go to Base's hospital, please, please help me," I cried. 

My dad arrived in record time. 

For all the shit I'd given him recently and my general annoyance with his attitude, if there was one thing I could count on him for it was this. He could handle a stressful situation much better than my mother could, and he really did care about me. Without asking questions, he was there when I needed him to be and willing to help someone he didn't even like because he knew it meant something to me. He still hadn't come to terms with the fact that Yoongi was my boyfriend, much less all the sketchiness that surrounded him, but that wouldn't stop him helping in whatever way possible.

I tried to keep from sobbing and held onto Yoongi the whole way. He was rocking back and forth, breathing heavily and doing everything to keep from crying. I wanted to tell him that was stupid, but I was too upset. By the time we reached Base, it had been almost an hour since the injury and he still hadn't had any painkillers. His wrist was clearly broken and the pain must have been unbearable once the adrenaline wore off, because Yoongi finally caved buried his face in my hair. By the streaks of wet that began to form there, I knew his tears had surfaced. 

"It's okay Yoongi," I soothed. "We're almost there," I stroked his back and he sunk further into me, still silent.

"I'm amazed he hasn't started screaming yet," My dad said quietly from the front seat, glancing at us from his rearview mirror. "I've broken bones before and I cannot imagine going this long without some kind of meds. And that break does not look good." 

I looked down at Yoongi's right arm, and he was right. His wrist had swelled to the size of softball and up to his elbow had at least doubled in thickness. The area around his wrist had began to turn horrific shades of purple and blue that made my stomach turn. 

Finally we made it to the ER and rushed in, explaining some sort of half-assed story to the desk workers that he had fallen down the stairs and broken his wrist, which also explained his various other bruises. The doctors rushed him in and immediately fetched the painkillers, which Yoongi downed gratefully. His pain appeared to finally be dulling as they wrapped his arm in a splint. Next they sent him to X-ray and then back to his room in the ER. The results must not have been good, because nurses came in to let us know he was being moved to the hospital proper and one of the doctors would be in to talk with him shortly. 

As promised, a doctor arrived moments later. 

"Saying it's broken would be an understatement," She explained. "Shattered is more like it. Not a clean break in the slightest, so he's going to need surgery for sure." 

Yoongi turned to me for a translation, looking a very lost puppy. 

"She says you need surgery," I told him quietly. His eyes widened and he shook his head hard. 

"I can't afford that. Ask what will happen if I don't get the operation," He pleaded. I sighed frustratedly but followed through. The doctor stared back us like we were both nuts. 

"Are you kidding me? He ends up with a zig-zag nub for an arm, that's what!" She retorted. 

I wasn't quite sure how to translate that, but I told Yoongi something along the lines of, "You need it." He laid back and shut his eyes tight, biting his lip. 

My dad let out a deep breath from beside me, apparently understanding without the subtitles. 

"I'll pay for it, so don't worry about it." 

I threw my arms around Dad tightly. 

"Thank you," I sobbed.

"I know, kiddo."