sick boy [yoonmin]

-two

It was a new day today. A new sunrise that had happened.

Jimin found himself being woken up early in the morning as his doctor, and the nurse, came into his room. The nurse pushed a cart inside quickly, before closing the door once more. They had a similar set up as what their mom had. Their protective gear. Instead of the purpose being to protect them from him, it was to protect him from them.

Ironic. 

"Good morning Jimin, how are you feeling today?" the doctor smiled kindly at him. Even though he had his mask on, Jimin could see the way his eyes moved, that he had indeed smiled. 

He was a very kind man. Jimin has always liked him. Instead of making him feel like a test subject, he actually made him feel like a human being just trying his best to survive in life. Always supporting his decisions and giving him a hand when needed. He was the one that persuaded his mother to allow him a notebook, a pen, and a phone. Saying that it was needed to keep his mental health. He would bring him sweets and snacks too, that of course, they both had to keep a secret from his mother and father or else they would both have a heart attack.

In a way, he was his only friend. The only person he was allowed to have contact with for more than five minutes.

It was nice. 

Smiling back at the man, he sat up on his bed, stretching his muscles, "Morning Dr. Kim. I'm the same as always, I guess," he shrugged, rubbing his eyes from sleep. 

The nurse had walked to his window and opened up the curtains, having the whole room get illuminated now. She walked back towards the bed, now standing next to Jimin as she waited for the doctor to start.

"Same as always is better than bad, don't you think? Also, I told you to call me Jin, Dr. Kim is too formal for us now," he laughed before grabbing something from the cart that was pushed in. "I'm going to do some blood tests on you. See how your body is doing. Have you been drinking your medication and following the schedule?" 

"Yeah," Jimin replied. 

"Anything else out of the ordinary that you want to tell me?" he asked, urging the nurse to come to his side so she could get the things ready to draw the blood.

"I haven't been sleeping lately. I don't know why, but I just can't seem to tell my brain to shut off," resting his back on the bed, Jimin looked up at the doctor. "Could it be the meds?"

"I doubt that it is the meds, they don't cause insomnia. Is there anything bothering you? Anything that you seem to be overthinking perhaps?" 

The boy couldn't help but laugh at the statement before averting his eyes to the plain white ceiling, that matched the rest of his room except for the curtains and his blanket. "When am I not, doc? Death is around every corner, I trapped in a enclosed bubble all to myself, and the only friend I have, is you. And I only see you once, twice a month?" he smiled, a bitter smile.

"It's understandable," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I wish we could have met under different circumstances."

"Don't. Don't be sorry. It's not your fault," Jimin looked away, feeling the needle going into his arm. He has gotten so many needles, surgeries, and things just going into his body, that by now it was all normal stuff to him. "I hate it when people are sorry. Don't tale pity on me."

"I will check your breathing after, and then we will do a spirometry test. After that, physical therapy, breathing exercises, and the sort," Jin spoke, keeping an eye on his nurse as she finished up with the blood.

"Yes doc."

The room felt silent after. Jimin closed up in his thoughts was more, and the doctor thinking about solutions to help the dying boy. The only time they would talk was when instructions were given, or answers were supposed to be reproached. They did the breathing test, Jimin's lungs hadn't improved from the last time he got badly sick, but the breathing exercises seemed to help him a little more today, alongside his oxygen tank that he hadn't been using. The physical therapy was after, Jimin whining every time something hurt his sore muscles and joints. The last thing was Jin telling the boy to keep up with the meds, and see how the blood work came out as, to see if the boy was somewhat improving slightly. 

It was all false hope, however. Because his disease didn't have a cure, it could only be controlled.

At one point, Jin told the nurse to take her leave, with the cart they had brought in, and Jin stayed in the room with the boy whom seemed to be staring out of his window, lost in his own head. 

Clearing his throat, the older spoke, "I know it sucks. And I know it is not my place to even say those words considering the pain you are going through. But Jimin," he sat next to the boy. He had his protective gear, so he knew he was okay with being close to the boy without making him sicker. "It will get better. One way or another, it will. You are a fighter, you always have been since you were small. You have been fighting for seventeen years, and you still are. Don't feel down because there was a step back to the treatment. Look forward to the day where you can at least go out of your room, be with your parents, and not to be afraid of getting sick at the comfort of your own home. You got this, okay?" petting his hair as a friendly gesture, he got up from the bed. 

The younger boy looked up, his eyes a little watered as he nodded, "okay. I will try. Promise."

Jin smiled at him, "good. Now, I want you to use your oxygen tank, just to make sure you don't strain your lungs. So please, please, pretty please, use it for this week. I also left a small Ziploc bag under your bed with some goodies. I made sure to disinfect them all, so they should be good. I'll see you, okay?"

Jimin's smile came back, eyes turning into crescents, and teeth showing, "thanks Jin, I'll see you next time. And I promise to use it."

The boy was left alone for the day, once more.