Butterfly Effect || BTS Universe

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The Boy Who Scarred His Soul

The florescent light slipped through the gaps of his outstretched fingers. A sigh passed his lips and he flickered his fingers to block out the harsh light. No use in burning out his corneas. But what else was he suppose to do while he lay there? The boy let his hand drop and he closed his eyes. Reminent lines of the light were seared into his eyelids and he squeezed them tightly. As if that would make them go away any faster.

It had been about a week since he was first admitted into the hospital. However, he'd only been awake a few days. The car that slammed into him really did him good and he was out for almost two days. Not a lot of external injuries, but definitely some internal damage. It wasn't until yesterday that he was finally able to leave bed rest and roam the floor. He was still stuck in a wheel chair, but it was better than sitting and counting the tiny cracks in the wall all day.

The boy opened his eyes and let out a puff of air, his hair pushing up his forehead in the process. How did he get into this mess, he thought. Things weren't suppose to be this way. Everyone was suppose to be happy and stay together. And they were for the first couple of years. But these past months have all just gone downhill. There was nothing really left to look forward to anyways.

He closed his eyes in an attempt to erase the negative thoughts.

"Jungkook?"

The boy switched his attention to the nurse standing at the door. She held a clip board to her chest and lightly tapped her pen against the paper in a gesture.

"It's 11," she announced. Ah, yes, recreational hour, as they called it. In all honesty, it felt more like an open therapy session. The main reason Jungkook had to partake in that was because after he woke up, they slapped him with a psychological test to see if he was mentally stable. "Protocol," they claimed, but Jungkook and the staff knew they were curious to see if he purposely stepped in front of the car or not.

Turned out, he showed slight suicidal tendencies. It didn't surprise him considering he's climbed construction towers and almost walked off a few times. Death didn't necessarily scare him. It was the thought of how much time it took to reach it that did. He wasn't going to jump off any buildings anytime soon, but they just wanted to make sure.

And it did help distract him. Painting was a huge time waster and allowed him to channel his feelings. It was better than bottling them up and snapping later.

Jungkook sat up just as the nurse pushed the wheelchair to the side of his bed. She offered him a hand but he just waved her off. He could use his legs just fine, but the doctors recommended that he still rest since they wanted to make sure that he was recovering smoothly. In other words, they didn't want him popping a blood vessel or two from the strain of walking a few steps.

He smiled to himself.

Once he was in the wheelchair, the nurse moved out of the way to allow him to wheel himself past and out into the hallway. It was buzzing with the other doctors and medical staff, as per usual. Nothing exciting every really happened on Jungkook's floor. Where he was, the patients were relatively normal and were usually only there to just slowly wait out recovery. No loud alarms or shouts of command. Just... quiet tranquility.

It was lonely.

Jungkook slowly wheeled himself down the hallway, staying close to the wall as to not get in anyone's way. No one spared him a glance. He knew it was polite and they knew not to stare, but a little attention wouldn't hurt. Maybe being the youngest in the past meant getting special attention. And now, all of that was gone. Would he ever get it back...?