my last pages 》 nomin

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The nurse came into Jaemin's room with the usual tray of pills, but on this occasion, she was also carrying a bundle of new clothes. Jaemin eagerly grabbed for the material while the nurse tutted his childish behavior.

"Pills first, Jaemin," she reprimanded, handing him the crinkly cup. He "swallowed" them quickly, forcing the white capsules under his tongue.

"Clothes now?" he asked. saliva collected on the corners of his mouth and he fought to keep it from dripping. The nurse never stayed long enough for his secret to be exposed, but new, less itchy clothes would be worth every drooly second. She nodded curtly and handed over the lilac sweater and grey sweatpants. Clothing with buttons or zippers was prohibited in the ward for fear of possible weapon crafting. To Jaemin, zippers were the least of his concerns. The nurse rolled her tray out of the room, locking the door behind her. Jaemin waited to change and discard of his pills until he could no longer hear the squeaky cart wheels.

He peeled off his crisp cut hospital shirt and threw it to the side. His stomach conformed to the shape of his ribs alarmingly, but the most startling feature on his slimming body was the name still carved into his skin. Despite the boys frequent visits, being in a hospital hadn't allowed him and Jeno any intimate free time, and the lines were beginning to fade. The idea of Jeno losing his ownership over Jaemin made him shiver with discomfort, and he swiftly pulled the sweater over his torso. The sweatpants hung from his waist no matter how hard he pulled on the strings, so he gave up, allowing them to rest on his bony hips.

Jaemin was drifting in and out of consciousness when someone knocked harshly on his door. He knew without looking through the small window that is was his mother. She wasn't gentle with any of her actions, and Jaemin longed to ignore the incessant knocking in favor of sleep. The thought of his mother calling a nurse to unlock the door instead propelled him to his feet. He opened the door and immediately flopped back onto his bed, disregarding her expecting arms spread wide for a hug. Miss Na frowned and placed the McDonald's bag in her hand on the floor by the bed. The only other furniture in the dull room was the chair for visiting hours, and from Jaemin's limited experience, it was very uncomfortable.

"Anything new, Jaem?" His mother questioned cheerily. Her vibe and bright smile contrasted the bleak atmosphere awkwardly.

Jaemin sighed and reached for the french fries he knew would be hidden in the folds of the bag. "Same boring place with the same boring people."

Miss Na didn't try and hide her grimace, but Jaemin didn't care. He contently munched on his french fries and used the white plastic spoon for his ice cream cup. His mother hung around for an hour before she realized her son would not tell her the answers she wanted. She bid him a courteous goodbye and left with some of Jaemin's trash. The ice cream and spoon were left behind, the former melting slowly from Jaemin's negligence. Jaemin's recess time wasn't for another thirty minutes, and the food had become unbearable after the first few greasy bites, leaving him unexplainably bored. He eyed the metal chair his mother previously sat on curiously. It wouldn't kill him to at least sit on something other than his thin mattress.

"This place blows," he groaned while falling into the metal chair like a rag doll. His hand dangled next to his body, swinging sporadically. He hissed when his palm brushed against the edge of something sharp and quickly bent down to find the source of his small cut. The metal on the bottom of the chair was broken, whether it be his mothers doing or someone else, he didn't know. All he knew was that the sharp edge of the bar gave him the perfect opportunity to fix his insecurities.

Jaemin rushed to grab the spoon from his soupy ice cream, licking off the excess. He kneeled on the floor in front of the chair, consciously facing the window in case a nurse checked on him, and rubbed the handle of the spoon against the edge. The plastic slowly chipped away and sprinkled to the floor. He shoved the spoon inside the chairs empty metal poles when his activity time came but returned to his task immediately after he was permitted to leave the commons. 

The nurse passed by his window to do the nightly check, and the hospital stilled. Jaemin finished his makeshift knife before the nine o'clock bell and hid it under his pillow. This was much different than hiding teeth when he was younger, and the disturbing irony almost made him laugh. He lifted the hem of his sweater and traced the healing cuts with his fingertips, the other hand clutched the "knife" tightly, poised and ready to inflict damage. The first letter stung like a bitch, and Jaemin nearly stopped, but the image of Jeno's beautiful smile hovering over his body forced his hand to dig deeper, faster, draw more blood. By the time he finished the last loop of the 'o', Jaemin was exhausted and bleeding. He dabbed at the red tears and licked the pad of his fingers to wipe them away. He discarded his spoon under the chair and fell onto his bed with a relieved chuckle.

Jaemin was nothing without Jeno.