going, gone | jikook

one

The sky was a pale grey, its light seeping through the crack of the window, shining on the polished linoleum floor. The wind blew between the crack, making the white curtains shiver and wave in a harmonious rhythm, left to right, left to right, and back. The walls were grey. Everything was grey. The ceiling had one light but it was off. There was a single bed with sturdy steel frames and a monitor next to it, constantly beeping, like a song. White blankets that had been kicked around the night before were now covering the shoulders of a single boy.

Like everything else, the boy was shades of white and grey. His face was pale, lips discolored. The dark brown orbs, his eyes that were once glimmering with hope were now reduced to nothing. His hair was black, his arms and legs so pale that one would think he was shivering in the cold, but he wasn't. There was one thing that separated everything, one thing that determined everything. The monitor.

Its beeps had slowed down to every three seconds, the boy had droned it out and he couldn't hear it because he was so close to hearing them disappear. That's what they all said about him. Every one of them. His mother, father, the man in the white coat that came to touch his forehead everyday, even the women with strong arms who wouldn't give in to his kicks, who would carry him up even with him resisting. They all said it.

Jeon Jungkook was dying. 

And everyone in the hospital knew.

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