Wake Up

Chapter 5 : Why Him?

Namjoon's P.O.V.

"And that's basically everything that needs to be said..." the doctor leans back into her chair, placing the manila folder on the table.

"...so basically... he's dying," I whisper as I stare at his name plastered in the corner of the manila folder.

"...unfortunately," is all she says.

I glance at Yoongi who sits beside me, a frown on his face. His fingers are picking at the loose lacings that have broken free from the chair. His other arm rests on the arm rest, his hand covering half of his face. One of his knees bounce rapidly. His eyes are filled with sadness and is left partially visible due to his bangs that cover them. He remains quiet and still.

"How big is the percentage of his survival?" I ask. The doctor pushes her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, looking down at his name on the manila folder as well.

"Most likely, 15% I am afraid," she answers with a straight face.

"I-I see..." I can't bare to look at his name anymore.

A silence washes over us. My brain begins charging up methods of how to cope with all of this, but the only reasonable one that comes into view is to believe the facts, and to just... accept things the way they are. "Move on," is what Yoongi preferably says.

"Is that all you want to discuss for today?" she asks, her monotone voice catching both of our attention.

Yoongi finally decides to speak up, his hand falling down to his side and revealing his tired face. "Yes, that's all."

"Alright then. I'll be here when you gentlemen decide to hear more about Mr. Jeon's progress reports later on in the future. Thank you for coming." 

She puts away the manila folder into the stack of cabinets that stand behind her. She then turns around and shakes me and Yoongi's hands as a goodbye.

"Thank you, Doctor, for informing us about him," I say. She hums in response. Yoongi only nods at her.

As we exit the room and walk down the hallway, I give another glance at Yoongi, wondering how he's taking all of this in. He speaks up, as if he had read my mind.

"It's best if we just move on, Namjoon. Everything dies eventually, so what's the point of mourning for someone when you have your own matters to deal with. I still gotta finish my damn job even after he dies." he mumbles.

I let out the second sigh of the day. "I know... even the facts says it all. But... what if a miracle suddenly happens, like becomes reality. What if he manages to wake up? How do you... How would you adjust to that? How would you explain to him-"

"He's not going to wake up! I-I mean, of course he might but miracles don't just magically fucking appear..." he lets out a sigh, recollecting his thoughts before speaking once more. "Look, like you said, the facts says it all. What's the point of rooting for a dead man? It's just stupid. It's nonsense."

Our footsteps continue to take up the silence of the hallway. A couple of machine's from unfortunate hospital rooms let out their quiet beeps, but it's still just the two of us populating the air with sadness by our lively auras.

"...hyung," I quietly whisper, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

He finally looks up at me, a plain look on face. Truth be told, the concern in his eyes shows emotion which would contradict his plain-plastered mask of a face.

"Do you... do you still miss him? Still love Jeongguk?" I ask.

He lets out a scoff that catches me off guard. "Of course I fucking do. Why would I not love that little brat? Fucking, I love him to the core. If it wasn't for him, I'd never met you or Jimin. Even worse, I might've just killed myself from the very beginning. Miss him? Of course... I miss him everyday. But... a man's gotta move on. If I continued to mourn my mother's death every single day, then I wouldn't even be here. We have to move on, we all do."

By the end of his answer, tears are welling up in his eyes. I pat his back as he lets out a shaky sigh.

My eye suddenly catch a specific two-digit number as we enter the final floor of the hospital building. Room number 97.

My stomach begins to churn and I stop walking. Yoongi notices my behavior and looks back at me before realizing where we have stopped at. His wet eyes begin to soften. I suddenly feel like crying.

"You... want to see him?" Yoongi asks, reading me like an open book. I glance at him before nodding.

"You okay with that?" I ask. He pauses before giving a small nod in return.

"I kinda wanna see him, too." he quietly admits.

We enter the room, our feet timidly shuffling their way into the white room. Our ears are immediately invaded by the machine's haunting beeps. We continue to venture through the small room and finally, we see him.

Cold and frail, pale and lifeless, there lays our beautiful golden maknae, our child since the beginning, on a white mattress in a delicate patient clothes. I let out a quiet sob, my feet mindlessly rushing over to him.

Wires are attached to his arms, a lifeless yet calm look on his face. So fragile yet so... dead.

I sit on the chair that's been seated right next to him from prior visits before us, and hold onto his shoulder. Tears begin to cascade down my cheeks. The reason as to why I became so emotional out of no where doesn't seem quite clear to me yet.

"I-I'm sorry Jeongguk... I- I'm sorry that I haven't been here for you in months. Maybe even in a year... I'm sorry. I'm a terrible hyung, aren't I? I haven't seen you in so long... and now hearing about everything that's been happening to you... I can't... I can't imagine you being the one going through all of this. I can't imagine an innocent boy like you being stuck in this ridiculous coma." I let out a cry, burying my head into the mattress.

Maybe this is because why I'm crying. It's because I haven't seen him for so long. I only heard about him, how his progress is and how he's doing. I never actually went to visit him after I became so busy with everything. So now when I finally see him, see his face, see his condition through my actual eyes, I can't quite accept it. I can't believe it. But the truth hurts, and right now it's digging into my heart. Digging into my soul and telling me that this, this is the reality. This is what's been happening. My eyes have been opened, but have also been exposed to the tears and dryness of this world.

I feel an arm comfort me on my back. I slowly lift my head off of the mattress and look up into Yoongi's caring eyes. He then looks down at Jeongguk. A tear rolls down his cheek. I allow him to say a few words to the our boy.

"I know that I promised you from way back that...that I would support you no matter what. That I'd fight for you and that I'd be here for you like how you were there for me right from the beginning. But... now, I don't think I'll be able to fulfill that promise. Be-because I don't know the possible outcome when I put my entire mourning into you, my faith and energy into you. You might just end up being like the rest of them. You might just leave me and... and just be gone. Look I..." Yoongi takes a deep breath and looks away for a moment. He quickly wipes away the tears in his eyes before looking back at Jeongguk.

"Look... truth be told, I'm just so fucking... so fucking scared," he says as he pulls another chair beside me.

He sits down and quickly grabs a hold of Jeongguk's hand. The layers of Yoongi's suppressed feelings slowly begin to feel off like an ice cold flower. His feelings begin to become exposed, and it surprises me. It's only on rare occasions like this in which Yoongi would show how truly delicate his heart can be.

"I'm just afraid of that... I'm scared th-th-that that might actually happen, that you'll leave me right after I put my entire faith into you. I don't want to b-be left behind again... I might not be able... able to move on if you die on me like that, like how my mom and everyone else did. S-so I'm sorry. I sorry for leaving you behind. I really am... a-and I miss you. I fucking- I fucking do! I miss you goddamnit!" he screams his last sentence as he buries his face into the mattress.

He begins to full on sob, and I cant help but follow suit as well. Our breaths for fresh air breaks our ability to speak complete sentences. The only language our tears allows us to speak is through our cries and sorrows.

Why, why out of anyone out there in the world, why did it have to be him? Why'd it have to be our boy? Why did it also have to be us to deal with this sadness? Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it have been me?