Hustlers || Taekook

Chapter 20

Jungkook remembered very little of what happened after that. He briefly roused awake for a few seconds, disoriented and uncomprehending, to feel his body being lifted up off the ground, aching, throbbing head cradled into a warm chest and familiar smell. The next time he clawed himself up to the surface of consciousness, there were stitches in his arm, a neck brace fixing his head in place, and he lay on cold, sterile bedsheets, a thick, heavy cast encasing his leg.

The third time Jungkook awoke, it was like his mind was a little passenger-less boat floating aimlessly, wandering and directionless down a stream, the gentle ripple of the water pushing it to bump into the grassy bank, and jolt into consciousness by chance. His eyelids were heavy, vision hazy, his head blanketed with the relentless weighted force of tiredness and disorientation. His mind was a mile off from being clear enough to produce a coherent thought, but he sensed first, before seeing a figure close by. The hospital room was dim, the only brightness to see by was the light pooling weakly into the room through the tiny window centred on the door. Jungkook could barely remember his own name in that sluggish moment shrouded with a dream-like quality, of ambiguity and fantasy. In that dark room, he saw the person's shadow stand above him, staring down at him and obscuring the light but Jungkook didn't feel ill at ease. In fact, it only strengthened a nonsensical, nurturing sense of safety as the person leaned down towards him and he dimly registered warm fingers stroking his head, running through his hair gently, almost tenderly, soothing beyond description. Jungkook didn't know if the person could see, but he smiled anyway, almost instinctively. He pried his eyes open with immense effort, just in time to see the person lean down all the way and press their lips softly against his, chaste but lingering. Jungkook's eyes slipped shut again and he sighed ever so slightly, entire body tingling with warmth as he tilted his head up just a fraction, body not cooperating with him to move any further to chase after the person's lips. He felt the person freeze, and pull back. Jungkook frowned, opening his eyes drowsily again, lifting his head as much as he could - which was not much at all - trying to search for that familiar warmth and soft, caressing touch again. The dark figure held themselves impeccably, unnaturally, eerily still, as though they were afraid a single movement from them would shatter some thin balance. The person stared at him, as Jungkook did them, though he couldn't make out their features.

"Jungkook." The person spoke hoarsely, quiet as a whisper, but still ringing out sharp, almost shrill in that silent room, though the tone had been soft. Their voice cracked just a tiny bit. Jungkook tried to nod, or make some sort of affirming response, but energy and lucidity were suddenly trickling out of his body, enabling the cloud of sleep to envelop him again. He struggled to form a word, successfully managing it just as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

"...Taehyung."

~

Jungkook felt himself dragged out of sleep, slowly, but surely. The sharp, strong smell of antiseptics and medicinal chemicals assaulted his nostrils and he registered that his tongue felt dry as paper, mouth stale. He opened his eyes and winced as he adjusted to the unwelcome intrusion of harsh white light. Collecting his scattered, fragmented mind to really awaken felt like emerging through layers of cobweb, peeling and discarding the sticky, intricately interwoven strands, bit by bit.

Once his vision settled and focused, mind sharpening to a shadow of its usual clear self, he realised he wasn't alone in the room. He pushed himself up into a sitting position slowly, weak arm awkwardly supporting him, shaking and unsteady. It felt like energy had been directly sucked out of his limb, leaving it an empty husk. He tried a couple times before his voice actually worked and produced substantial sound.

"Jimin?" Jungkook spoke, voice weak, thin and airy, killing his throat. He coughed and tried to clear his throat despite it feeling utterly devoid of moisture. His head hurt. Jimin jolted a little from where he leant against the wall, arms folded. He lifted his head and stared at Jungkook, eyes shadowed with tiredness.