Petals Behind Glass | Taegi

4- Humpty Dumpty Had a Great Fall

The night had been long, yet the events had rushed past before him.

His unconscious father on the floor. His mother crying that he wasn't breathing, that he wasn't breathing. The panicked screams, the panicked looks, the panicked runs. Mary calling 911. Someone giving his father chest compressions.

The screeching siren of the red, white, and amber lights. Paramedics whisking his father's body into an ambulance. His bare chest spasming as it kept being shocked again, and again, and again.

His mother's soothing words, his mother's soothing touch that didn't match the anxious fear in her eyes.

Dashing into the hospital, his mother having to be restrained from running into the room after him.

Her pacing in the lobby area. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Biting off her nails. Never blinking eyes stuck to the ground.

His vitals are stable. He's resting.

The tide of relief that flowed through her body, sinking her down to her knees.

His father lied motionless on the hospital bed; the steady rise and fall of his chest the only indication he was still among the living. Thick tubes and beeping machines were connected to and out of him; he didn't look like the living. His body was limp, and weak, and numb. His neck unable to hold his head upright, leaving it fall to the side.

"Mr. Min went through sudden cardiac arrest," the doctor explained, "fairly common in older adults. It can lead to sudden death if not given emergency treatment immediately. Mr. Min got very lucky. We will keep him in the hospital for a few days and run some tests to try and determine the cause."

Mikyung strongly held her husband's hand in hers, his frail fingers lacking the power to reciprocate the action. They were coated in her tears as her blurry eyes cried onto them, her lips kissing them away with her whispers of sweet nothings. Their story still had a chapter left.

Yoongi hid in the furthest corner of the room. His leg vibrated vigorously. His sweaty hands clenched, and unclenched constantly. His throat throbbed with hard, brittle guilt that tilted his head up, his lips firmly pressed together to suppress the accusatory tears that would make him admit what he had done.

They stayed the night. They couldn't have made his mother leave if they tried.

She slept on the chair next to his bed; her head resting near his body heat, fingers intertwined with his, until a light hand gently stroke her hair, opening her eyes to the morning sun.

"Jagi-ah..."

The voice was gruff and hoarse but she still recognized it. The touch was feeble and unsteady but she still recognized it. She snapped her head up with wide eyes. "Yobo!"

It took all her will power not to engulf him in a tight hug and only hold on to his hand.

His mother's ringing voice pulled Yoongi out of a nightmare, his tired eyes slowly adjusting to the conscious world, much like his father.

"Dad!" His feet sprung towards him.

"Yoongi..." his father smiled faintly.

Yoongi dropped to his knees, holding his father's hand in his rough ones, his eyes looking down in shame. "I'm so sorry, dad, I'm so sorry."

"Wha—"

"I should have been a better son." Tears began to choke his voice. "I should have treated you better. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, listen to me." His father found the strength to squeeze his hand. "None of this is your fault. You had nothing to do with this."

His composure crumbled as he wept. "Yes, I did. I was so ungrateful. I never appreciated you. I wanted everything for myself. I didn't know this would happen. I don't understand. I- I'm so sorry!"