•Filthy Shades of Park•

~Mistakes~

Third person P.O.V:

Hoseok held Taehyung's hand as they walked side by side to the towering building.

"Babe, I'm getting a really bad feeling about this," Tae stressed.

"Oh hush, I think it's just the crap ton of pancakes you ate this morning."

"Hey!" the red head digressed as he muttered, "I love pancakes."

The two finally eased off the talking as they walked into the place that their friend had avoided for far too long.

They understood why people would be intimidated by this.

With the ceilings as high as the heavens above, and walls as far apart as the oceans, it gave off no welcoming vibes.

Business was conducted here.

Not just any business...

But the business of the fine arts.

Dancing, singing, drawing, and so much more.

This was the place were creativity not only thrived, but prospered.

Something that would definitely help propel the career of the underground artist known as, P.J.

"Hello, I have an appointment with the director of-" the bright and happy man was cut off by the rude receptionist.

"You will have to have a seat and wait for the director, he is currently in a meeting."

The two men looked at each other questionably.

"Are you sure you wanna wait?" Tae asked, knowing that his partner had other important plans for today.

Hoseok had a quick breath, hoping that he'd still have time after this too make it to his next task.

He had to do this, knowing that nobody else would help his pal get discovered. But most importantly, to get him out the life he chose to desperately settle in just for some money.

It was now, or never.

"Okay... we'll wait."

Y/n P.O.V:

"His blood pressure is steadily dropping! I need some assistance here!" you yelled to evoke a fire into the systems of the people around you.

Busy hands and bodies worked relentless in a battle that you were starting to lose.

Endless efforts by the team did not seem to be working. The internal damage far worse than you expected it to be.

You were far from giving up, but a good outcome looked bleak.

"Doctor, we're losing him!" a nurse projected out.

She was right, you were losing him.

With his heart rate down to a dangerously low sixty beats per minute, and to make matters worse, he was going into shock.

"I need to perform a thoracotomy, we need to ease some of the pressure off of his heart and lungs!" you went to grab the things you needed.

When turning, you caught a glimpse of the monitor, seeing how the progressing beeping was getting worse.

You were about to lose this boy.

"Come on people, we're running out of time!"

The battle against the clock of life was a fight that you always tried your best to win, but this time you weren't going to.

A sound that no medical professional wants to hear echoed through the tense operation room.

The longest, high pitched beep.