A World of our Own | K.TH *COMPLETED*

Friends

Accept.

"You answered! Finally!" An excited voice comes through the speaker of the phone, and my thumb hovers over the red button on the bottom of the screen. Was this Jungkook V's friend?

"Do you remember Jimin and Suga hyung from the mental hospital? You know, the one with the phobia and the minty haired guy with insomnia? I'm with them right now! Do you want to come?"

V was in a hospital?

Quickly, I glance from V's unconscious, bloody form and my small, bloodstained hands. I needed help if I didn't want him to die— I couldn't handle everything by myself. It would be too late by the time I finished.

"Hi," I speak, urgency speeding up my voice. "V is really, really hurt right now. Do you know where he lives? Because you need to come— as soon as possible. Please."

The line goes still for a second, and I think that this Jungkook guy hung up on me. To be honest, I would too— if a stranger answered my call and told me the person I was looking for was bleeding on the floor.

But then the line crackles to life again, my hope rekindled.

"We'll be there in a minute. Keep him alive."

Then the guy hangs up, and I get back to attempting to breathe the life back into this man, who is on the boat heading towards death.

Heart jumping with adrenaline, I press another fresh wad of bandages against another wound on his chest.

"Hold on, V. Your friends are coming to help— you just need to stay with me, okay? If you die, I swear that I won't forgive you for the rest of my life."

I lose track of time as I feverishly work, trying desperately to staunch the blood that seems like it would never stop.

Then the door swings open, breaking me away from my trance. A barrage of curses follow the noise as three men enter the apartment.

The one that looks awfully like a bunny picks V's body up without breaking a sweat, his muscles tending underneath the shirt he has on. I want to say to be cautious with him, to be gentle, but my lips are glued together.

Instead, I look up as a man with mint hair offers a pale hand, which is possibly even paler than mine.

"Can you stand?"

Nodding, I take his hand as he helps me up from the blood-covered ground. The moment I'm up, I instantly break away and dash next to the couch, where the bunny had put V's body.

"We need to stop the bleeding— the one on his upper chest is the deepest one. That wound needs to be treated first— it's spilling too much blood." Voice trembling but authoritative, I tell the bunny as he looks down at V's ashen face, an unreadable expression on his own.

"Quickly!"

That seems to do the trick, getting the bunny to move towards the pile of medical supplies I'd carelessly strewn on the ground. While he does that, I ease V's shirt off of his upper body— it was becoming too much of a distraction, and I had to wrap the wounds anyway.

His chest underneath is a mess of healed scars, healing scars, and fresh wounds. I can feel the others' gaze firmly on me as I wave for help— I needed his body off the couch in order to dress the cuts.

When the bunny lifts up V's upper body, I quickly and skillfully wrap the bandage from his half-exposed waist up to his shoulders. It's hard trying to keep my eyes off his body, but I know the priorities— and I'm not about to let childish temptation distract me.

"Almost done— can you wipe the blood off of his face?"

This time, a man with ashy gray hair steps forward, a wet cloth ready in his hand. Soon, its white material is soaked with red as it cleans V's skin.

Breath coming fast and rapid, I watch in grim silence as they slide a loose, oversized shirt over his body. I don't realize I'm wringing my hands until the bunny puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"He's going to be fine. He always healed quickly."

"Yes," I whisper as my fingertips graze the black brace over his wrist. What he said before— it had been true, after all. "He told me."

Then I realize that these men, I have no clue what their relationships with V is. But neither do they, and I feel the weight of explanation weighing down on me with a strange heaviness.

"Are you friends with V?"

"I wouldn't really call us friends. He kept to himself a lot during his short stay at the mental hospital. It was mostly Jungkook who talked to him, and most times he would just ignore him." The man who introduces himself as Jimin says, eyes still flickering towards me and then V. "It took Jungkook like a few hundred attempts to convince V to share contact numbers, and when V finally did, he looked like he just won the lottery."

The bunny boy flushes, and I immediately match him with the name Jungkook.

"And then he escaped from the mental hospital— approximately an year ago. The authorities didn't care enough to chase after him— he'd been unresponsive to their tests, their psychologists, everything."

V.

"Jungkook was heartbroken when he left." Suga adds, and Jungkook's face grows a deeper red as he fidgets with his fingers.

"Thank you for calling," I fix a grateful gaze at him, trying not to seem so intense but also trying to be sincere. "Without that, I possibly couldn't have done everything alone."

He nods in assertion, his lips twitching like he's just itching to say something to me. Finally, it seems like he can't tame his urge as he blurts out.

"Are you and V hyung—"

This time, it's my face that goes beet red with embarrassment as I trip over my own words. Somehow, my hands are waving in front of me like flags, blushed in a light crimson.

"No— I'm just... you know, his neighbor."

Nobody saw the corners of V's lips twitch as Tzuyu continued to ramble on, every word a stutter.