Spring Day | BTS ✔

04

How much longer is this all going to take? I sighed as the nurse changed my IV bag for nth time since we landed here in the recovery ward. I was able to eat and drink on my own just fine, but I'm sure there was pain meds being put into the IV drip. It would make sense why my limbs all felt like they were floating when I woke up.

I didn't take those moments without a grain of salt. I was more grounded than I had ever been in my life.

"Don't worry, Mr. Kim," the nurse said, "The doctor said you should be discharged by tomorrow."

I nodded, but I knew it wasn't really true. I might be discharged, but I wasn't completely free from this place that easily. I'd still have to come back for physical therapy for my legs if I could walk after all of this. That's not to mention all of the checkup visits I'd have to make.

The nurse left shortly after, leaving alone once again. My phone sat cracked, but still hanging on to life, on the swing-over table to my left. It was fully charged, but I didn't feel like taking it off of airplane mode. I didn't want to deal with the messages from my parents, friends, colleagues, or bosses asking how I was doing. I didn't need – or want – anyone doting on me right now.

I just needed J to wake up.

I hummed to myself as I memorized the swirls in the tiles underneath the hospital beds. I sighed, realizing the song was one of J's favorites. I remembered a lot of little things about the boy I had once known. His love of oversized sweaters always contradicted the rest of us. He wore black and black eyeliner like the rest of us, but his sweaters and his laugh made him seem more like the group's teddy bear.

I remembered how he hated showing his body off, but showing off his athletic side was the only way he was ever accepted by the other kids at school. No matter how many times we'd tell him that he was perfect the way he was and how he didn't need to make anyone else happy, he never listened. I also remembered the time we found out he wasn't eating and the days where he'd pass out so often from it that we were afraid he'd surly die the time after.

I had never gotten to ask him how he was doing in that regard. I guess it was no longer my place to ask.

I remembered seeing J that morning, the first time I had ever seen him in four years. He had changed a lot. He wore cotton pink hair that lay in fluffy layers over bare eyes instead of dark brown bangs over dark eyeliner. He wore a white and blue striped long-sleeve over light-washed jean shorts, a fuzzy grey jacket, and white sneakers instead of a black muscle tee, black basketball shorts, and Jordan's. His expression was soft and happy, like the angel he really was had finally found its way out to the world.

How you've changed J...

J's too precious for this world, always have been. He was always too fragile for the rest of us. We were rough and bent at the edges, pessimistic and angry at the world for hating us so we hated it. But he wanted nothing more than to see the light in it. He knew what we didn't, that one day none of the others mattered, even though he let them beat him down just the same.

It's so cold in this room. There's no warmth from anything. The light warming the blanket over me was still too cold to warm my skin. The organs in my body were too frozen. Everything was too cold in the room.

It's so cold, but not because of the air conditioner overhead. It's cold because an angel who didn't belong in the hate of the world was sleeping too long.

It's all winter here, even when we'll be here in August. My heart is running on the time when I'll say I'm sorry to your face. But that time couldn't be farther away with your face so close to mine.