Smoke Song

Loss

"Why didn't you come to us sooner?"

Jungkook took a deep breath, staring down at his hands. The man in front of him sighed, leaning on his desk as he scribbled a note.

"This could have been avoided," he said sadly. "If we had healed it within a few days, nothing would have happened."

Jungkook braced himself.

"It's become set so deep there's very little chance of your voice coming back."

Jungkook let out a sigh, shoulders sagging.

"I'll have to notify Jin," the doctor said. "You shouldn't be singing right now. You shouldn't have been speaking after inhaling all that smoke and taking those drugs. It would take a miracle for your voice to return."

Jungkook nodded, swallowing hard. His throat prickled; the throbbing was almost gone. Except for an unusual feeling of constriction, he would have assumed he was better. But no sound came out of his mouth. He couldn't even whimper, much less scream. Forget singing.

The doctor leaned back in his chair, taking another deep breath. "I hate delivering bad news," he muttered. "But we've sent out a request, and there are no healers in our networks with enough skill to heal your hands."

That hurt. Jungkook sucked in a breath, closing his eyes and drawing his lower lip beneath his teeth. The doctor patted his shoulder, a motion that was probably supposed to be comforting but instead made him want to throw up.

"There's a chance, in a few years," he said. "You don't have to give up hope."

But Jungkook was already shredding his hope, throwing the pieces at his feet and hoping with all he was worth that no one would ever try to make him feel that way again. It hurt. It hurt so much, knowing they had rescued him for nothing.

They should have taken Taehyung and left me, he thought.

Jin was waiting outside the office door, but Jungkook didn't look him in the eyes, instead brushing past him and shoving his hands in his pockets.

It was over. That was it. There was no chance he could help anyone anymore.

He plodded down the hall, staring at his feet. When he reached the stairs, he stood staring down them, counting each white step and thinking about the effort it would take to reach the bottom-most floor without falling on his face.

If I stay, I'm a bother, he thought, If I leave... what then? They'll pretend to care. What if they go trying to chase me and I get them in trouble?

Leaving would make it worse.

I'm stuck here.

He sighed and took the first step down, but found his way blocked by the man he'd seen in the cafeteria. He blinked stupidly, frowning.

When did he get here?

"Lost your voice, huh?" the stranger's voice was low and sharp. "Let them get your hands."

Jungkook swallowed, looking away. How did this stranger already know? Was there some sort of broadcast system in the doctor's office? Would everyone know what happened to him?

He remembered the searing heat of the chain in his hands, the last thing he'd felt before they'd disappeared. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he moved to walk past the stranger, but the stranger grabbed his arm, whipping him around. Jungkook slipped down a step, gasping and squeezing his eyes shut.

"I've got news for you," the stranger said, "This whole complex might feel sorry for you, think you've got it so hard. Well, I don't."

Jungkook flinched.

"Far as I'm concerned, you're a waste of time. Make yourself useful, and maybe I'll change my mind."

Jungkook let him push him aside, staring after him.

"Goodnight," the man said curtly. 

Why am I so worried? I mean, you miiiiiigghhht know who he is, but I don't need to defend him yet! Not until after he--

mmf! 

*muffled voice*: NO. SPOILERS. 

ahahahaha.... right. :P