Jimin opens the doors and tries to not feel disappointed when he sees only Namjoon there. He zips up his jacket, stepping out of the door and locking them behind him.

“Hi, hyung.”

Namjoon gives him an easy grin, throwing his cigarette on the ground and grinding it to a pulp. He rests an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, lightly tugging them forward.

“How’s it going, J?”

Jimin shrugs, breath curling out in white clouds as he speaks, “The nurses say he's stable, so I guess it's the same as always.”

A short silence, and Jimin looks up to see Namjoon with a somewhat pitying smile. He doesn’t realize why until Namjoon follows up with another question.

“And you? How are you doing?”

Namjoon’s brotherly tone is a burden that pulls Jimin underwater for a moment. Jimin huffs and turns to the other side, hiking up the collar of his jacket.

“I’m fine, hyung.”

“Aight,” Namjoon gives him a hearty pat and his arm leaves Jimin’s shoulder. “Tell me if you ever need anything.”

Jimin smiles at the sentiment. He doesn’t know if it’s true at all, since he hasn’t seen Taehyung in roughly three weeks, and they’d made dozens of promises themselves. Although, he thinks that some of the fault is on him as well. He’d stopped trying to get into contact with anyone right after Hoseok ended up in a hospital, some two weeks ago. He’d just been too busy.

They come to a crossing and stop at a red light, cars flashing by as Namjoon lights another cigarette. The silence is heavy with the burden of many things unsaid, and Jimin clears his throat.

“And you, hyung? How’s, ah…” Jimin stares at the fare lights, not knowing how to address the person that had been as close to him as a brother for the past couple of months. It changes to yellow and then to green before he’s made up his mind and Namjoon nudges the small of his back.

They continue walking, a uncomfortable weight in Jimin’s legs.

“Yeah, it’s…” Namjoon clucks his tongue, a somewhat ironic sound. “It’s going.”

“And... Taehyung-ah?”

Namjoon drags in a smoke. They walk past an empty parking lot, facing the wall of an abandoned factory. The brick wall is embedded with dozens of colorful graffiti and Jimin smiles when he catches sight of Taehyung’s meter-long bipedal broccoli.

“He’s alright, yeah,” Namjoon says when they pass the lot.

Jimin looks at Namjoon, wondering how long he’ll have to probe to get a decent answer. The question must show on his face because Namjoon gives him a small smile, scratching the back of his head.

“We’ve been picking out good spots to get some bombing done.”

Jimin makes an affirmative noise at the back of his throat. It only hurts him a little to find out that he hadn’t been extended an invitation. He probably wouldn't have accepted it anyway.

A question is on the tip of his tongue and he focuses on Namjoon, trying to gauge the situation. Namjoon burns the cigarette down to the filter in one go and answers his staring with a one-sided smirk. He throws the cigarette aside, lowering his tinted sunglasses over his eyes.

His pastel pink hair and almost criminally tacky sunglasses stick out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of grey, crumbling buildings and extinguished neon, and the sight makes Jimin crack out a smile. This small burst of normalcy gives him the courage to press the issue.

"And Yoongi-hyung and Jeonggukie? Have they been going too?"

Namjoon barks out a laugh, and the rawness of the sound gives Jimin a start. His expression is covered up by the orange glasses, the only thing visible a bland smile on his lips.

“Yeah, no," Namjoon sniffs, turning his head away. ‘S just the two of us now.”

There’s a longer answer somewhere between the lines but Jimin knows better than to press for it.

The scenery changes slowly, shabby buildings giving way to polished skyscrapers and neatly kept parks. Jimin’s feels out of place amongst the cleanly pressed people in suits, all wearing matching faces made out of tired bags and strict lips. After a particularly burning stare he lifts up his hood over his bright hair.

People still give the two of them weird looks, and he even spots a group of schoolgirls giggling and snapping photos on their phones. Jimin wonders if they think that they're idol trainees. Namjoon doesn't comment on it, if he notices at all. He weaves silently through people, a lollipop replacing his cigarette. 

The attention they get is thought consuming and Jimin is grateful for it. Too soon they stop in front of the hospital, a tall, pristine building with big windows. While Namjoon looks around for a trashcan, Jimin watches the tall windows and the eerie sterility of the white walls.

He's still frowning when Namjoon comes back and slips something into his jacket.

Jimin feels around his pocket and the form of an unopened lollipop presses against the skin of his palm. He gives Namjoon a questioning look, and Namjoon throws him a wink before taking off his glasses and pushing them into the pocket of his jacket.

"Let's go, J."

He pats Jimin on the back and walks ahead of him with assured steps, and Jimin follows after him.

No one pays them too much mind inside of the hospital, too caught up in their own worries to think too much of two strange looking guys. Namjoon takes the initiative, approaching the reception table and leaning on it.

“We’re here to see Jung Hoseok-ssi.” Namjoon’s voice is rough and scratchy.

Behind Namjoon's shoulders, Jimin hears the rustle of papers and a disinterested sort of noise.

“Ward 52, up the stairs, straight and then left.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon says, turning quickly and Jimin scuttles after him. Namjoon looks over his shoulder, throwing a: "Where to?"

Jimin speeds up and pushes in front of Namjoon. They climb up the stairs and turn the corners speedily, Jimin knowing this part of the hospital like the back of his hand. Finally, in front of the ward, the nurse recognizes Jimin and gives him a free pass, while Namjoon has to scribble down his name in the registry book.

A total of five beds lie inside, three of which are occupied by patients. Jimin makes for the one of the far right with a big smile on his face.

“Hoseok-hyung!” Jimin trills, laying a hand on Hoseok's shoulder as a greeting. He regards him carefully and sees that Hoseok's chest still lifts and falls regularly and his features are still as peaceful as ever. Nothing has changed, and Jimin finds the thought both relieving and stifling.

He sits in a chair by the bed, drawing it as close to Hoseok as possible. Jimin's hadn't seen Hoseok sleep this well in weeks. His under eyes have faded away as well, although his skin is now even more washed out and sallow.

Jimin takes Hoseok's limp fingers in his hand, careful not to jostle around the IV attached to his wrist.

"Did you dream of something nice tonight?"

Hoseok's always had thin hands but the ridges of his knuckles seem even sharper now. Jimin smoothes the tips of his fingers over the protruding bones, outlining the blues of his veins.

"It was a cold night, but it seems pretty warm here," Jimin smiles a little. "Under your small million of blankets."

He clasps his other hand over Hoseok's lifeless fingers, folding them over his own.

"Guess Christmas really is coming, hm?"

There's a small cough from the side and Jimin realizes with a start that he's not alone in here. A small burst of self-consciousness passes through him and he almost lets go of Hoseok's hand, but it all gets wiped away when he catches sight of Namjoon. He's standing by the foot of the bed, tall and hunched over.

His face looks strangely young and childish in the cold light of the hospital room, eyes owlish as he alternates between looking at Jimin and the thick catheter poking from under Hoseok's blankets.

Jimin looks back at Hoseok, infusing his voice with cheer, "It’s a surprise today! Guess who?"

Namjoon blinks, twisting his fingers around and looking just lost in general.

"Come closer so Hobi-hyung can see," Jimin prods him, and so Namjoon takes a small step closer to the bed. Namjoon's eyes narrow as he scrutinizes Hoseok's form, a strange quality to his expression. His eyes linger on the thin tube under Hoseok's nose and Jimin unwinds one hand from Hoseok's, brushing flat bangs away from his forehead.

"Yay, it's Namjoon-hyung!"

Jimin doesn't know how to interpret Namjoon's expression, so he keeps tidying the thin brown strands. A scent of cigarettes mixed with some sort of aftershave washes over Jimin and he looks to the side to see Namjoon's face close to his.

"Can he-" Namjoon asks in a whisper. "Can he hear me?"

Jimin nods with more conviction than he actually feels and Namjoon straightens.

“Yo, Hope," He plays with his own fingers, a nervous tick that Jimin hadn't noticed prior to now. "What, um. What’s up?”

He drops off, looking down at Hoseok like he half expects to receive an answer.

“Tell… tell Hoseok what you’ve been up to,” Jimin proposes, a little hesitantly. He grips Hoseok's hand again, the touch grounding him.

“They’ve- They’ve got Marlboro in that corner shop across the street,” Namjoon scratches the side of his face, looking away. “Yeah… Too pricey for my cheap , but. It’s cool.”

Jimin nods enthusiastically, “Cool, yeah. Maybe you can check it out together one time?”

Namjoon's face twists in a sour expression that hurts Jimin as if it's a physical blow.

"Yeah, um," Namjoon tries, the lines of his jaw tight. He seems to battle with something for a moment longer and then his expression unwinds. Jimin catches a glimmer of undiluted grief before his head drops down and he drags out a wheezing sigh.

"Ah, . I can't- . I can't do this."

Jimin flinches, fingers tightening over Hoseok's.

"Do what?"

"This. I-" Namjoon looks up to the ceiling, hands raking at his sides like he's searching for purchase. “It's so damn unmoving here - It's- It's not-"

Jimin swallows down the lump in his throat, looking away. He knows exactly what Namjoon means. Hoseok's mood was always an extreme; his anger petulant, sadness a river of tears, tired a grumpy twist of his lips. During the week that led up to this, his exhaustion became a glare. Looking at Hoseok now, his mouth is relaxed and slightly parted, eyebrows flat and serious.This is an absence, a big lack of anything at all.

"He's..." Jimin doesn't know what to say, so he finishes, bluntly, "He's in a coma."

Namjoon lets out a self-deprecating laugh that sounds more like a sob.

"Yeah, I -" A quiet thud as Namjoon takes a step back. “I know.”

When Jimin looks up, he has a hand covering up his face.

"I'll go-" Namjoon says thickly. "Talk to the nurse."

Jimin lets out a small noise of approval, and Namjoon makes himself scarce. The room seems emptier without him.

Jimin sits quietly, the dull beeping of Hoseok's heart monitor his only companion. He spreads out Hoseok's palm, running his nails gently down the plains of his fingers.

"Do you sleep well alone?"

Jimin misses the hitch of Hoseok's breath, the small content noises he used to make as Jimin traced the lines seared inside his palms. He runs his thumb, feather-light, over the sides of the band securing his IV drip.

"I don't, really."

Jimin follows the line of Hoseok's arm up to his shoulders, the skin soft and pliant, muscles giving way slowly from disuse.

"Wake up soon, okay?" Jimin whispers, his nails leaving thin white marks down Hoseok's skin. "Or you'll start looking like that green haired beanpole."

He rests his hand on the crook of Hoseok's elbow. There's an admission on his lips, a gnawing truth of what's to happen that he can't tell anyone but Hoseok.

I'm scared, hyung. I don't know what to do. I'm tired. I'm lost. I...

Jimin's heart thunders inside his chest and he almost says it, almost, but the lines of Hoseok's lips look so calm. He thinks that it would be a terrible shame to ruin that.

"I miss you," Jimin says instead, leaving a piece of himself inside the words for Hoseok to keep safe.

***

Namjoon comes back after a while, and Jimin doesn't comment on the red corners of his eyes.

They say goodbye to Hoseok, Jimin kissing the back of his hand and Namjoon telling him a raspy farewell. They walk back half of the way together and Jimin can't force the words out, not with Namjoon's withdrawn eyes and traipsing steps.

The night sets over like a thick blanket over Seoul, and Jimin draws on a wobbly black line on the curve of his eyelid and pats his lips down with pink lip balm. It's too cold outside for the attire that he dons on, a tight sleeveless shirt and red pants that he can barely push over his thighs, and Jimin swallows down a numbing pill before he leaves.

His eyes water and sting from the eye pencil and his hands feel frozen over as he sways on his feet by the corner of two dingy streets. A car drives slowly towards him, and Jimin blinks tiredly in the glaring light.

It's all a detached haze. Jimin moves his body, his spirit resting back where it's warm and soft, Hoseok's arms tangled around him and legs thrown over his body.

"Are you asleep?" Hoseok whispers, breath tickling down Jimin's neck.

"No," Jimin tells him, and moves his body again.

He returns home with bills stuck inside his jacket and sits in the bath with the world spinning around him, mouth sore and aching. The water is sometimes scalding, sometimes freezing.

Jimin sinks down into it and it thunders inside in his ears like laughter. A soft kiss on the side of his neck, hard hands touching down his chest, the tightening of Hoseok's hand inside his own, a vicious tug of his hair and he can't breathe anymore.

He remembers to resurface and leans back against the edge of the bath. Fingers fumble and turn the tap off.

His sleep is heavy and dreamless.

He wakes with an acidic taste in his mouth and gaping hole in his memory. He changes out of his wet clothes, and gets naseous when he catches sight of his chest, red bruises spreading down to his waist. He lunges for the toilet, the contents of his stomach burning his mouth. He flushes and washes his mouth, hands still shaking.

In the kitchen, he finds his jacket discarded on the table and checks through the pockets. In one he finds a wad of bills and in the other, a wrapped lollipop. He unwinds the wrapper and pops it into his mouth, on it as he counts through the money. The cherry taste spreads through his mouth, sweet and artificial.

 Jimin thinks that it feels a little like coming back home.

-Rated M for implied ion 

Sorry Jimjams i love you i swear T---T

PS. Thanks for all of the subs and comments!! It means a lot to me and I'm forever grateful <33