49: WHERE THE BROKEN THINGS LIVE

"Ghost," by Ashmute

                “Um…guys…meet my father. Park Beomsoo. Or, maybe some of you know him as the Munjigi.” [Munjigi=Gatekeeper].

                “Your dad is a gangster?” Yoongi coughed.

                Jungkook looked confused. “Wait, hyung, why is your dad so much fatter than you?”

                Several guns appeared from under black blazers and pointed at the kids on the couch. Munjigi roared and leapt out of his chair. “You’re not acting like you want to live, you little rats!”

                “Wait!” cried Naeil. “Sorry, we’re sorry!”

                “Oh, now you’re sorry, are you? I’m about done with your complete lack of disrespect!”

                The guns were pointed back at Naeil and the others again.

                “Stop! Appa! What did I—” Jimin’s desperate cries caused him to choke on his own saliva and cough. “I—I told you not to—they’re my—”

                “Stay out of this, son. This isn’t just about you.”

                “No. This is all about me, because it’s all my fault. It’s all because of me. This—”

                “What are you talking about?”

                “You never listen to me, and you never have!”

                “Son, this is not the time. Please leave us.”

                “No! I’m not leaving! I won’t! I—”

                “Jun, call Sunwoo here. Tell her it’s an emergency. Boys, take all of them to the backroom.”

                The men began to move to pull the kids up, but Jimin seemed even more troubled and began rushing toward his father. He doubled over and tripped on his own feet, but continued nonetheless.

                “I said stop! I said—stop! I—I—” Jimin coughed again and tripped. When he fell on the ground, the frustration on his father’s face was turned into something like mild embarrassment.

                “Son, get up. Why are you acting like this? You know you shouldn’t be here right now.”

                An awkward pause ensued, and after a few long seconds, Naeil began to wonder if Jimin was just to ashamed to stand up and show his face.

                “Okay, that’s enough. Get up. Come on. Park Jimin. Get up. Do you hear me? Yah!” Munjigi took a step toward his son, lying on the floor. “Son?”

                Something clicked in Naeil’s brain. He isn’t moving at all, is he? Yoongi sensed it at the same time and jumped out of the couch, rushing toward him. He didn’t even notice the gangsters around him jump up and approach him. Something in their boss’s eyes made them stop a moment later.

                “Yah, Jimin-ah, what’s wrong with you, huh? What’s wrong?”

                Jimin wasn’t responding. His father bent down and pulled him up. His eyelids had fluttered half closed, and his body was limp.

                “Jun! Jun! Come here! Look at him—he’s—”

                Yoongi pulled him up by the other end. “We need to get him to a hospital.”

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                When Hoseok woke up, it took him a while to remember where he was. The smell clued him in first: that flat, chemical, persistent odor which forever hovered in every hospital room. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The longer he went on this way, the heavier it weighed on him.

                When Namjoon called him the day before, he had almost just broken down and told him everything, about how he’d taken too many meds and collapsed in the middle of the street, how he had ended up in the hospital somehow, how he’d been too ashamed to tell anyone. The doctor had informed his parents about their concerns for Hoseok’s mental health, but they hadn’t had time to come visit yet. They sent money for all his bills, of course. By now they were probably just tired of dealing with a son like him.

                A new voice in the large hospital area made Hoseok look up. The doctor, a middle-aged woman with a mild expression, was walking around the room and inspecting patients. He considered feigning sleep for a few seconds, but quickly brushed away the idea and chided himself for his foolishness.

                As she approached his bed, he pulled himself up and let out a long exhale.

                “How are you feeling today, Jung Hoseok-ssi?”

                “Much better. Thank you very much.”

                “When your body is doing a little better, we’ll probably transfer you to the mental ward and introduce you to someone to talk to before you’re released. Hopefully your stay won’t be too long. All the signs seem to be good. Someone should be bringing you something to eat soon. Do you have any questions?”

                “I don’t think so. Thank you.”

                “Very well. Do your best to eat something, and get all the rest you can.”

                “I will.”

                A few minutes passed until he saw the hospital workers come into the room with trays of food, passing them around to the other patients. He was in the farthest corner, but he could still hear them chattering about the latest gossip.

                “What an awful night. I thought I was never going to get home.”

                “Another one of those? Lucky I left earlier. Was the doctor bothering you again?”

                “Him? No, believe it or not! We had the craziest patients yesterday. Or, I should say the people who brought him were crazy. Four men, a couple of kids, all as noisy as a bunch of barking dogs. Dealing with the pack of them was about to drive me crazy!”

                “Is he still here?”

                “Is he still there? They’re all there!”

                “No!”

                “Yes! He’s got his own private room and it’s just packed full of them. You’d better believe I won’t be cleaning up after them.”

                “Well me neither! Which room? Let’s leave it to the others.”

                “Oh…what was the number? You know, that one way over there. You know, by the, um…aigoo, I’ve forgotten. No, wait, I think I remember the name. Park…Park was the surname. Park Jimin! That was it. Just watch out for that one.”

                Hoseok practically bolted out of his hospital bed. Surely, not that Park Jimin? There were probably fifty Park Jimin’s in this hospital anyway—right?

                The workers had finally reached his bed and were shoving the tray into his lap, but Hoseok had never felt more unwilling to eat. An uncomfortable sensation was swelling in the pit of his stomach. He told himself it was probably nothing. Jimin was okay.

                He set his tray aside and settled back down onto his bed, trying to get comfortable. Five tosses and turns later, Hoseok sat up again. He couldn’t stand it. It wouldn’t hurt to just peak into the room, would it?

                He slipped out and looked around, hoping to find most of the hospital personnel either absent or busy. The workers who had brought his food had long gone, but there were still a few nurses shuffling about. They seemed occupied with other patients.

                With some amount of sneaking about, Hoseok managed to get out of the room and into the hallway of private hospital rooms. He headed in the general direction the worker indicated, peeking into room after room.

                Room 223’s door was closed. Carefully, hands shaking a little, he turned the doorknob and peeked inside. The room was stuffed with people. Three large men in uncomfortable suits sat squished together on the window seat. Three very familiar-looking young men were strewn about on the floor sleeping, one girl snuggled into the corner. A chubby little man sat on a chair next to the bed, holding the hand of the unconscious patient. Hoseok knew him immediately. Park Jimin.

Author’s Note

I know a lot of you are probably really frustrated with me right now, or maybe have just given up on the story. I don’t blame you, but if you’d like to know why, I’m going to post a longer explanation after this. I just didn’t want to stick it at the end of a chapter because it’s long and I don’t want it to clutter a chapter post.