Spring Day | BTS ✔

11

A guy with wet brown hair and a blue hoodie knocked me the ground as he ran past me. He shouted an apology as I stood up and wiped the bits of wet pieces of wet asphalt off of my sleeves and ass. I rolled my eyes and kept on running. We seemed to be running in the same direction. However, where the blue hoodie kid got stuck at a crosswalk, I took a short cut to the park a few streets over, avoiding any stops from traffic or at crosswalks.

I wasn't running anymore, instead I had slowed to a jog, out of breath but pushing past the burn in my legs. I wasn't unfit, I worked out a lot. However, I was mentally tired from the theories about what could happen between Namjoon and me when I eventually make it to the ward. My lungs felt ten times heavier in my chest than it had that morning.

I didn't care though. I had a mission and I wasn't going to stop for anything. I crossed another street, the towering hospital appearing at last over the sea of buildings. I stopped to take a breath and survey my options to the hospital. I ended up picking up a running speed again as I took off down an alley system that, if I made the right turns, would put me a block from the hospital grounds when I got out again.

"I'm coming Namjoon, don't go anywhere," I joked bitterly as I raced against the pouring rain and garbage. I ran past a camp of homeless people. They looked at me as I raced past, but I didn't have time to stop and notice. I made a right than a left.

"Don't go anywhere just yet," I muttered, hoping beyond hope that Namjoon wasn't going to send me out of the ward before I could even say hello for the first time in four years.

Something hard slammed me into a garbage can. I looked up and saw a pair of brutish looking guys.

"Hey, little boy," the first sneered, "Got any lunch money?"

They laughed and I rolled my eyes.

"No, I left my wallet at home," I said quickly, going to stand up.

"Bullshit, what millennial doesn't carry around cash these days?"

"This one obviously," I spat at him as he grabbed my collar and shoved me against the brick wall behind me.

"Whatever asshole," the second slammed his fist into my gut, making me gag.

"Look guys, I have somewhere to be," I kneed the first guy in the privates, making him howl and double over in pain.

"Hey!" the second punched my jaw, sending me spinning to the ground. I spat out blood as he kicked my spine. I hit my face against the wet ground before spotting the metal trashcan lid. Before he could get another hit in, I grabbed it and slammed the edge into the thug's face. He was sent sprawling to the ground, right on top of his partner. I took off before they could grab me again.

I ran out of the alley system and into the busy sidewalk. I caught a glimpse of my split lip, bloodied nose, and the torn collar of my sweater in the glass of a bus ad as I ran past. I didn't care very much. The throbbing headache and bruising stomach could wait.

I laughed bitterly thinking about how the pain was so familiar yet so strange after so long. I remember when my hyungs would fight, either with me or each other. And I remember when a chair sent me into a wall in Hoseok's old apartment. The physical fight always followed the words and led the apologies.

How many times will I get beaten up before I get to say I'm sorry? And how many sleepless nights do I have to spend to see you, to meet you?

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I wonder who that boy in the blue hoodie could be? 🤔