Jungkook | Saved

2

I wake up to another day. What day, I'm not sure. My days just blend together now. So rather than keep up with that, I keep up with time. And it's 2:23Pm now. I'm running late on my schedule.

I groan as I lift my heavy body. It's aching more than usual. A sign that I'm going to have a bad day, I know it. Either way, it doesn't stop me from getting up and heading to my kitchen. Opening up the freezer, I see only one box of frozen macaroni left. I'd have to go grocery shopping. Definitely a bad day. It meant that it was time again to break out of my orderly schedule.

I tear the little box apart and throw the macaroni in the microwave before going back to my room to get changed. I look at all five long sleeved shirts I have hanging in my closet. With eyes half lidded, I pull one off harshly from the hanger and slip it on. My muscles are protesting at the action, but it feels slightly good. I put some jeans on just as my microwave goes off.

I inhale sharply, dropping the plastic container of hot macaroni. I shake my fingers a bit, a little burned from the food.

"Fuck that's hot...."

But with the thought that I have to go grocery shopping, I quickly start eating. I have a schedule to keep. Even if my mouth is burning, I force it down. Another box to check. I've eaten. Done.

Next.

My apartment is about 40 minutes walking distance from the campus. And thankfully the grocery store is only 10 minutes out of the way from my apartment. I didn't have to go far. And I don't have to spend a long time there anyways. I'm not like everyone else who takes their time, considers what meals they're gonna cook. I always get the same thing. I always load up on frozen meals, ramen, and juice.

Again, my body is protesting as I carry the heavy plastic bags back the 10 minutes to my apartment. It's already past 3PM and I'm running late. I have my schedule to keep. So I start running the last 3 minutes to get to my apartment faster. To get inside and hurry and put away my groceries that would last me for two weeks.

I toss off my long sleeved shirt and jeans, happy to be rid of them. It's hot now, and wearing long sleeves is terrible. Heat in general is terrible. I prefer the cold months of the year. Because then it'd make sense to wear long sleeves. It'd make sense, to cover my arms. I've gotten used to it actually. But I'll never get used to sweating. I hate it. And I sweat a lot. But I don't have time to shower. I rush to put my jumpsuit uniform on and throw on a cap.

I'll barely keep to my schedule if I run part of the way to the campus. My body is going to hate me by the time my day is over. But that's ok. I'm used to hate.

I stop running as I look at my watch. I can walk the rest of the way, and I'll be fine. It's actually a relief to me. I can feel my heart more calm now. Keeping to my schedule is important to me. Because it's the only thing that's keeping me alive. I'd go crazy without it. So I stay loyal to time. It's my guide. And I can actually feel myself wanting to smile. Because maybe it won't be a bad day after all.

"Jungkook?"

Or have I spoken too soon?

Because the voice that called out to me was from someone I hadn't seen or talked to in at least two years. But what day is it again?

"It's you... Jungkook..."

I turn around to see my old doctor, Namjoon. He generally looks the same as when I had left Seoul. Same dimples, same tanned skin, tall and lean body, with the same serious and concerned look in his eyes. Although his hair was longer now, and combed back, he was still Kim Namjoon. The same man who counseled me and helped me to heal. Mostly.

"What are you doing here?"

I feel some panic in my chest, but my face stays unmoved with no emotion. "I'm headed to work."

"You told me you were headed to New York. That you were dancing..." Namjoon was upset and frustrated, but his sense to stay calm, his sense as a doctor kept him steady. "Jungkook, you lied. Why? Do we need to start our sessions-"

"I'm fine. I don't need therapy anymore. I don't need that place."

"But the fact you lied and-"

"I said I was fine! I'm not cutting anymore! I promised I wouldn't! Look!" I lifted up the sleeves of my jumpsuit so he could see what I always have hidden away.

Namjoon almost turned away, but he didn't. He stared at the small thin lines that made up the scars on my arms. Evidence of my darkest times.

"Yes, I can see that. But just because you're not physically hurting yourself anymore, doesn't mean you aren't hurting yourself mentally." He sighed as he put his hand on my shoulder, "What's wrong? I thought we discussed everything we needed to discuss."

I swiped his hand off of me harshly, maybe too harshly, "I'm fine." I said it with so little emotion, it sent shivers down Namjoon's body. "This is just how I'm living my life now. I work as a janitor. I go home and eat, sleep, then repeat the process. I'm fine."

"You keep saying you're fine..." But with no response from me, he decided to leave it alone and try something else. The doctor didn't want to give up talking to me just yet. "What about your art? Have you continued painting?"

"....."

"We hung up your ballerina piece. So many of our patients love looking at it." He stared at me, though I stared back with dead eyes. It pained him to see me looking this way. "Jungkook.... I can't force you to come back to Seoul and see me again. But you know our doors are always open to you."

"Thanks," I said sparingly, not even taking another glance towards my old doctor as I turned to leave.

The clock is ticking, and my internal schedule is screaming at me to leave. I have to leave. I don't have anymore time to waste.

Namjoon's forehead was permanently creased as he stared, watching me leave him. "I'm in Busan for three more days! At the Lotte Hotel! Come see me if you want!"

But I didn't turn back. I didn't even throw up a hand to signal that I had heard. Namjoon knows I did, but there's nothing he can do but be on standby. Because that's always been his job. Sure, he can ask his questions, but his job is to wait for the patient to open up. It's always on their terms. But Namjoon has patience. And he has faith that if I really needed help, I'd seek it.

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he turns around and heads back to his hotel.

Yet, me on the other hand, starts sprinting towards the school. My heart already racing before I forced my legs to run. Because never in a million years I thought I'd see my old doctor again. He travels a lot for conferences, sure, but I didn't think we'd run into each other this soon after I left that place. What are the odds? Apparently not good. Because that's my life.

My life that's made up of agony and tears. And I can feel myself crying now as I run. Because the memories of being in the hospital, the memories of screaming myself awake in my hospital room are flooding into my brain. Images of fire and death cloud over my eyes. It's hard to breathe. It's so hot. My body is hurting so much. My head is pulsing so much with pain that I can no longer concentrate on running. My schedule is broken. A schedule I so loyally kept to so I wouldn't have to go back to those times.

It's getting harder to breathe. I gasp for air as I fall to the ground. My knees hit the concrete hard, and my body falls over. And I'm left as only a broken man. Nothing but my past to haunt me as I black out.

Today is definitely a bad day.