• Title: That Day
• Ship: Kim Taehyung x Jeon Jungkook
• AU: Hospital AU
• Type: Multi-chapter fic

Chapter 1

A rhythmic beeping woke me up from my somewhat peaceful sleep on the couch I claimed for myself those first days when we thought Mom's stay won't be that long. I slowly sat up and stretched my limbs, turning my head from one side to the other to ease the tension of my muscles from being twisted in the few minutes I've been curled up to rest.

"Good that you're up. Grab me some coffee from the cafeteria downstairs.", Dad whispered just barely loud enough from his perch on the edge of her bed. I noted that his eyes are once again red-rimmed from an hour or so of crying, probably because one of the doctors said something about her heart, liver or maybe kidney this time. "And stop by the nurses' station, tell them she needs more painkillers."

I took in his defeated look as he said the last statement as I turned away to hide the fear in my expression. A few more days, a week at most. I'm pretty sure that if time was sold in bottles, that would be included in my "grocery list" for the cafeteria. "I'll be back in twenty. Just have to grab some fresh clothes from our place too.", I mumbled almost incoherently so Dad won't hear the tremor in my voice, so that he won't know how much our situation frightens me. I stood for a heartbeat or two to know if he'll admonish me from spending a longer time than necessary to complete my task but all there was to hear was the beeping of Mom's heart monitor in the background, which I sometimes stupidly think as a countdown to her last breath, so I walked out the room and made my trek to the elevators that would bring me 3 floors down to the ground floor and some fresh air.

"Hey Taehyung! How's she doing this morning?", an elderly nurse asked as I passed by her in the hallway. She's the same nurse that injects Mom her daily dose of maintenance meds, and despite the months I spent in the hospital, I never learned her name.

"She's still asleep when I left earlier. Good thing is she doesn't look like she's in any pain.", I answered before offering a small smile and continuing my journey down the long, white hallway. What is it with nurses and stupid questions? I think to myself in annoyance. It's not like a secret that my Mom is dying! Why does she have to ask that question? It almost made me think that hospital personnels feed on the patients and their families' grief to stay alive and healthy. Sighing, I rode the elevator down the ground floor with no further incidents that caught my attention.

The elevator doors opened to a modern-looking hospital lobby which is only occupied by a cleaning personnel and a handful of hospital staff mingling with a few civilians, at this early hour of the morning. I walked as if my whole body is on autopilot due to the almost daily trips to the hospital cafeteria. In the frequent trips I made down here, I learned to tune out all the shouting and crying of families and emergency patients alike. Who would've thought that the cafe wing would be located just a hallway away from the stinky and despairing area of the ER? Not myself, mind you. I would place the cafe on the top floor (or anywhere far from the stinky ER if I had my way with how rooms are assigned around here).

I was on my way back to the bay of elevators when the glass double-doors exploded inward. "Out of the way kid!" An EMT shouted at my face as he and his colleagues pushed between them a stretcher with a small, limp and bloody body. From the looks of it, I doubt he'll survive this one without any major scar decorating his face and arms-- and that is, if he survives at all. Man, his appearance almost made me want to vomit all the coffee and muffins I had for breakfast just minutes ago.

I shook my head at the poor kid's fate before turning again to the elevators, but I was stopped once more in my tracks by the sight of a girly-looking teen leaning on the door with his hands tightly clenched at his sides. He's sporting a cut on his lower lip and another cut on his left eyebrow that is slowly gushing blood down his female-looking face. If not for his clothes and hair, I would've thought that this guy is a girly girl because he is bawling like crazy right there in front of me. So I took tentative steps forward and reached out to take one of his hands in mine, and whispered the first thing that came to mind. "You look kind of pretty so please enough with the waterworks."

Despite reading books and watching films, I wasn't prepared for what happened next. "It was all my bloody fault.", the he-girl wailed and suddenly attacked (hugged, but more like attacked due to the force of the thing and the way he seemed to tackle) me. So nobody can really point fingers and laugh when I freaked out and spilled the cup of coffee on the he-girl's bloody and shredded shirt. He's a he because he doesn't have s, my weird mind noted despite the circumstances.

He yelped and seemed to forget about his tears for a while. The teary-eyed look just seconds before turned to a glaring expression almost instantly as he removed his shirt to keep the coffee-drenched shirt away from his flawless skin. "Man, I'm sorry. You just surprised me, is all.", I mumbled apologetically while reaching over with some tissue to wipe his chest. "Here, let me help."

The he-girl just tsked at me, shook his head in annoyance and limped his way to the ER doors where he was met with a nurse who started to ask him questions or whatever it is nurses do during these instances. That weird guy even has the nerve to get mad at me when he was the one who jumped me? With a shrug and after picking up the remains of the coffee cup on the ground, I made my way back towards the cafeteria to get another cup for Dad.

Few minutes later, I can't seem to help myself from glancing at the ER doors when I passed the area for the third time that early morning. There, still standing by the glass slits on the door,now wearing a hospital gown and a bandage on his left temple, is the he-girl. His hands resting by his sides were clenched into tight fists, and his eyes that showed so much emotions-- fear, sadness, anger, annoyance-- just minutes ago, were now staring almost vacantly into the room. It's as if the life and sparkle from those eyes were right out, leaving a dull and broken shell behind.

“Jungkook!” A man that’s close to tears ran past me, towards the he-girl who I think is called Jungkook based on how the newcomer addressed him. “Kid, are you okay? What happened? Where’s your brother?” The newcomer bombarded Jungkook with questions as the latter just stared at him with bloodshot eyes, his lips trembling as he tries to contain his emotions. I turned away from the scene, the drama this time of day on top of the usual drama in our hospital room is already taking it’s toll on my sanity. But absently making my way back to mom’s room, I kept wondering if this way we’re losing her is better than that kid’s way of possibly losing his brother? Really though, no way is better-- because losing someone dear to you is never going to be a good thing. Ever.