Darkness Ethereal | K.TH

The Problem With Jimin

On my way to the bathroom, I pass the empty corridor to hear something like crying.

It's soft and low— but unmistakable.

Someone is crying in the waiting room.

My feet pulls me over, even though I would have no idea what to do if it was someone crying over the loss of their family or friend.

But it's not.

Silver hair is the first thing I see as I come in silently, and my eyes widen with surprise when I see Jimin crying quietly into his hands.

He hasn't seen me yet.

My heart seems to shrivel up in place as I gently wrap my arms around the trembling man, his cheeks tearstained and eyes shocked as he looks up at me.

"T-Tzuyu?!"

"You should be sleeping," I remind him softly as I pat his fluffy head. "What's wrong, Jimin? Tell me why you're crying."

His face flushes with red.

"Hey— don't be embarrassed," I quickly say when he turns his face away from me, furiously wiping at his cheeks. "I've been crying for the past day, so you don't have anything to be ashamed about."

"I...wasn't crying."

Doubt is clear on my face as I glance at his tearstained sleeves, and he sighs heavily.

"Fine, I was."

Anxiety tingles up my fingertips. "If you don't want to say, it's okay, Jimin. Should I leave you alone?"

He seems to seriously consider that before shaking his head, and I plop myself down on the couch next to his. Figuring the best way to comfort him is to just silently keep my place, I purse my lips together.

I don't expect him to break the silence first, but he does.

"I— I just didn't expect to ever perform on Tae." He whispers, stumbling over his words. "And such a risky surgery— at first, it terrified me whether I could save his shoulder or not."

I swallow. My fault.

"But you did, Jimin." I say quietly, wondering if him crying was partly my fault as well. "If it wasn't for you, I doubt that he'd be well."

"I've never been so scared while performing before," He mutters as he folds his hands together. "I'm supposed to be a trained surgeon. I'm not supposed to have my hands shaking like an amateur."

"You did this before?" I ask, looking at him in surprise. Then I realize he'd just started teaching this year— and of course with his tremendous background he'd been a surgeon.

"Since I was sixteen— at this hospital, actually."

"Why did you quit?"

His bottom lip trembles.

"Because I killed a life."

"No, Jimin." I whisper, appalled. "You're a surgeon— and I bet you took on an impossible patient, the one the others just turned their heads to. It's not your fault that you couldn't save them. And you certainly didn't kill them."

"I'm a surgeon. I save lives." He says simply, eyes roaming the ground.

"I failed."

"Jimin, it's impossible to save everyone," I tell him, and he freezes up against the couch. "Can you tell me more about the patient that died?"