Y o u  a r e  m y  o n l y  o n e  s u n,  o n e  a n d  o n l y  i n  t h e  w o r l d

It was dark when they finally poofed out of the confined space.

Honestly Jimin didn’t know where did they had teleported—the only thing in his mind when he did it was that the three of them needed to get out from there. It was thankful that they managed to appear in some place quiet and deserted, the old playground close to his old house.

Automatically the orange-haired boy turned his head around to check his surroundings. Fortunately there were no sign of the same man in suits that had been on their pursuit, and it doesn’t seem that there were other people too there.

A grunt was heard from his side, making Jimin quickly turn to the source of voice. Jungkook was already half unconcious, tiredness getting over him and Taehyung’s wound wasn’t looking like it will be better. Blood was already splotching everywhere on his clothes and some had even splattered on Jimin’s jeans—and it didn’t stop flowing.

“Taehyung,” he breathes as he tried to drag him under a playhouse, “Can you hear me? Please tell me you’re still awake,”

The salmon-coral haired boy squinted his eyes but he doesn’t seem like he could find any strength to talk. When he tried to open his mouth, a shock of pain suddenly jolted all over his body, seeming like his wound grew worse.

“We,” Jungkook panted, “We have to take out the bullet first from it, don’t we?”

The older boy nodded, “Yeah, it will infect him if we don’t,”

He then took off his jacket and ripped the sleeves, wiping the excess blood and tied it tightly around his shoulder through his underarm, ripping the younger boy’s shirt on the wound part. He then looked at the younger boy apologetically, “This is going to hurt... but try not to scream, okay? It’s already night and we should stay as low as we can,”

Taehyung noddead weakly as he turned his head away from him not wanting to witness the process. As Jimin finally gave pressure to his wound’s side, he closed his eyes shut tightly as the boy tried his best not to shout. If Taehyung was asked how does he feel right now, he’d probably describe it as hell—even though the wound was only on one part of his body, he felt like he was ripped through.

He could just feel the older boy’s hand on his wound, trying to pull out the bullet planted on his shoulder. Sweat was dripping all over him as he beared the pain going thorugh all over him that even Jungkook was staring at him in pity.

“Hey, Tae,” the strawberry-blond started, “Breath okay? Here, hold my hand,”

The offer was accepted quickly as Taehyung’s hand was already grabbing the younger’s tightly, that his wrist was already growing dark red even though it has been only for some time. The salmon-coral haired boy’s lips began to bleed from the harsh biting that he did from stopping his voice to come out. His breath was getting erratic as the process consumed a lot of his stamina, eyes drooping as he gets tired.

“Done!” the older boy exclaimed as the small object was finally out, holding it in between his thumb and middle finger, blood all over his hands, “Do you have any water or alcohol, Jungkook?”

The boy quickly nod and took out a plastic bottle from his bag, “There’s no alcohol, but this should do right?”

“Yeah, it’ll clean it a little,” Jimin nodded, already pouring the water over Taehyung’s wound while wiping it carefully, the boy being already on the edge of what’s left of his consiousness. The orange-haired boy then ripped another part of  his jacket’s sleeve and bandaged the wound tightly, trying to stop any blood to seep over.

“It’s not much, but it’ll do for some hours. You can relax, now, Taehyung,” the older boy turned around has he took more detail into his surroundings. There’s still no sign of people moving around there, but in the same time the salmon-coral haired boy was in need of professional help as he had lost a decent amount of blood that if he didn’t get any transfusion immediately it can endanger his life, seeing that the blood wasn’t completely stopped. He’s in need of streile bandages and some painkillers too, if they wanted to survive tomorrow.

Jimin then rummaged his sling bag that was thankfully got teleported with him, taking out his phone and storing the brown object on the corner of the playhouse, “Jungkook, give me your number,”

“Huh?” the strawberry-blond boy tilted his head but still give him his phone, “For?”

“Taehyung’s still not safe yet, I need to get him some medicines so he’ll manage himself tomorrow,” he replied as he tapped Jungkook’s number into his phone, “I need you to stay here and try not to get caught by anyone while I’m gone—if you see anything or anyone strange, call me immediately, okay?”

Jungkook nodded as his phone was back into his hands, suddenly a wash of trust of the boy that he had just met yesterday got to him, “Be careful,”

The older boy smiled softly to him before he disappeared into thin air, “I will,”

“Yeah, today’s my night shift,” he said into the phone as he tidied up the medicine bottles on the desk, “I’ll probably finish the paper this night, I brought my laptop with me. Yeah, you should probably do it to. Hey I gotta go, I need to check Eunha’s IV before finishing. See you later,”

Hoseok sighed as he hang up the call and slipped his phone to his lab coat’s pocket. Apparently night shifts aren’t his favorite thing in the world and he’s already from handing an emergency patient that evening. There was a crash close to the hospital and the patient was suffering from a crack on the head, and Jung Hoseok hates dealing with the head part.

Being already twenty and the youngest fresh-graduate of Seoul National University in his class with a medical degree, Jung Hoseok had always felt like he was living someone else’s life. It’s not like he wasn’t grateful to be gifted of quick acceptance of college, but he has this vivid dreams that he have in nights and voices echoing at the back of his mind. He’d seen people in his dreams called him differently from the said name that he was told by his parents, people scattering in his dream in a somehwat medical faculty.

Truth, Hoseok doesn’t like the education that he had pursued at all. He can’t stand the sight of blood, he’s fed up with remembering various disease names, but there’s this one thing that made him decided that he just had to do medical—his supernatural powers.

It was a shocking experience—first year of college and he accidentally caught in a car crash. He remembered it precisely, he had broken bones and in a day they were back together as if nothing had ever happened before to it. And when he’s not even done being surprised of the occurence, he found out immediately that he had control on every natural being—anything that’s not artificially made he could get hold of. He can’t express how puzzled he was when he accidentally moved some wat