Chapter 27

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Jimin’s POV

I’m shaking, my knees are weak and I feel as if I’m going to collapse. My mind’s not much better off either—thoughts are scrambling around each other in my head, clawing at my skull, fizzing, hissing. He’s woken up. Just as I thought I was to lose him forever, he woke up.

Jungkook looks a little disorientated as he blinks open his eyes, slowly, painfully, and squints. I lean right over the bed, the metal rail digging into my waist, peering at his face. I haven’t seen his eyes in three months. It’s like living without oxygen for three months, in a dark, hopeless vacuum. Now—now I feel like I could climb a mountain. He’s awake.

“O-oh my,” I stutter, mouth unable to form words. “H-hey, Jungkookie, hey there.”

He makes a noise from the back of his throat, before starting to cough violently.

“Y-you don’t have to speak, okay? I know your throat m-might hurt, oh my ing goodness,” I drink up the sight of Jungkook moving, breathing of his own accord. It has me giddy. “It’s me, Jimin.”

His eyes widen slightly at the words, and his coughing calms down. I’ve got so much to tell him, ready to pour out the entirety of my feelings now that he can actually hear them, but I know he’s not in the right state of mind. Hell, he just got out of a coma!

I lean in closer, so that I don’t have to speak as loud.

“I can’t believe this… I’ve missed you so much, Jungkookie, so much,” I whisper, and a single tear edges its way out of my eye, slides down my cheek and drips from my chin onto the corner of Jungkook’s lips. I can’t help myself from taking his face in my hands, gently, and leaning down to kiss the tear dry. But it doesn’t help, because more and more keep coming, until I’m a sobbing mess.

“I...I love you, Jungkook,” I manage to choke, breath shuddering. “H-here, just hold my hand. It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

Carefully, I wriggle my fingers through his, and the feeling of his hands, the warmth slowly returning, is like being drunk. Hysterial happiness, the world melting away around me. Jungkook, to my surprise, squeezes back softly, and his cracked lips turn up into a small smile. My face breaks into a beam and I laugh out loud, overjoyed. He’s okay.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Park, but we’ve got to carry out a few procedures on Jungkook now that he’s woken up, for his health,” Dr Choi interrupts, and I almost turn and scowl.

“S-sure, of course,” I sniff. “But could you leave us for a few minutes? Please.”

Dr Choi reads my desperate expression, pleading in my eyes, and nods.

“Okay. Be careful with him, he’s in a very fragile state at the moment.”

With that, the doctor and the two nurses leave the room, shutting it quietly behind them.

“Am I dreaming, Jungkook?” I sigh, resting my chin on the edge of his pillow so our faces are centimetres apart. “It’s been so long, I feel like none of this is real.”

I don’t expect him to reply, I really don’t, so when the tiniest, weakest voice I’ve ever heard croaks out an answer, I almost jump out of my skin.

“No, you’re not dreaming, hyung.”

Then I start crying again, and Jungkook laughs, but that turns into more violent coughing and choking on his own spit. I fumble around in my rucksack for water, and cup his chin in a hand while I use the other to help him drink. He swallows, thickly, as if it’s painful for him. He exhales and sinks back against the pillows, now propped up in an almost-sitting position. Jungkook still seems a bit dazed, confused, but I’ll take it.

“It’s proabably better for you not to speak,” I say. “I’ll do the talking, okay?”

“No, I’m alright,” he says, and his voice sounds a notch stronger than before the water. “Really, Jimin. I am.”

I shouldn’t really be encouraging him to speak after he’s just woken up after three months, but I’m greedy, hungry for the sound of his voice.

“What was it like, being in a coma?” I ask gently, not being able to take my eyes off him. Jungkook blushes prettily, pink stark against his pale, waxy skin, and looks away.

“I don’t really remember too much, except a lot of the time I was, how do I explain this, awake?” he shrugs, wincing. “Like, awake inside my head. I could hear my own thoughts. It was so frustrating, because I wanted to do things but my body just wouldn’t. It was like being trapped in a pitch-black room with your hands tied up and your mouth gagged.”

He says so much at once, so fast, in that precious, croaky voice of his, that I can’t resist holding his hand a little tighter and planting another kiss on the tip of his nose. Jungkook makes a small squeal of surprise. I can’t wait to take him home, to take care of him.

“Could you hear things? Like what people were saying around you?”

Jungkook nods, and my heart shoots straight out of my chest. So he heard everything I’d said, right? My pathetic attempts at speeches, at apologies, at trying to keep him updated, every day for at least two hours? He’d heard how I really felt, words I would never have the courage to say out loud if he was actually there, conscious. That means that maybe, maybe, he could try and forgive me. Maybe we could actually work