C H A P T E R 8: Bummie.

Jonghyun felt bad. He felt really, really bad. It wasn’t on purpose that these words had slipped out of his mouth, just like it wasn’t his purpose to laugh when Minho started the topic in the first place. He was panicking when the younger began to indicate that Kibum seemed to like him, making him say things he definitely didn’t intended to say – and then it didn’t mattered if Kibum actually was there to hear it or not, he still felt terrible about it; Kibum was his friend after all – even though they barely had known each other for a week – and it just wasn’t fair.

He didn’t felt like going straight back to his room after the conversation with Minho, in fact a little bit afraid that he would have to face Kibum’s pretty features as soon as he returned to the department. As an alternative he shortly after found himself sitting in front of a big black piano which was beautifying the hospital’s entrance hall.

Hours went just like that; with him sitting there in his own little world with no worries whatsoever, his fingers gently pressing down the white keys in the right moments as he tried hard to remember what he had learnt from his piano lessons. He barely noticed when people would stop up and send him curiously looks and clap when he had finished a song. – Some of them even asked him to play a certain song, while others (mainly a group of girls) asked him if they could get his phone number, which he nicely refused, with a charming smile playing around his lips.

At the time he was done playing it was already time for dinner; Kibum wasn’t sitting with him as he usually had done the past days – actually he wasn’t even to spot in the department’s canteen today – and it made Jonghyun realize how great he felt when being around the younger boy and talking to him, which he actually had done unbelievable much lately.

The question now was where in the world was Kibum if he wasn’t here together with Jonghyun? In his room? Where else could he possibly be in his condition? And why was he caring so much about it all of a sudden, when he didn’t even felt like seeing him for some hours ago?

Jonghyun sighed and stood up. He had barely eaten half his food, but he couldn’t care less right now as he went over to the food stand and grapped a clean plate before he started to fill it up with stuff he figured Kibum liked the best, seeing that he had been eating it the other days. Finally satisfied with the content he stumbled in the direction of Kibum’s room – (try to walk with a plate in your hands while you still have to carry around with a pair of crutches because the doctor tells you that you can’t put pressure onto your leg).

* * *

Kibum at the otherhand felt hurt. He felt really, really hurt. The last couple of hours he hadn’t proceeded to do anything else than lying in his bed – and somehow feeling bad for himself – while fighting to keep his tears back, which mercilessly threaten to leave his eyes every time Jonghyun’s words automatically would repeat themselves in his head, no matter how much he tried to keep them out.

He scoffed and buried his head into the pillow as thousand of thoughts about Jonghyun ran through his mind. Deep inside he wished he just was confusing his feeling for the older, since he had saved him from his self-inflicted death and was the boy who stayed by his side the previous pair of days when he had needed it the most. – But wasn’t that actually the reason for him to like Jonghyun in the first place? Since he exactly was the said person whom Kibum had being thinking about uncontrollably.  

Unexpectedly the door slammed open with a bang, followed with a likewise echo as is closed again and footsteps – awkwardly supported with the dull sound of crutches against the floor – approached him, giving him an easy time to guess who it could be. Which few seconds later was confirmed by Jonghyun’s voice: “Kibum! Why didn’t I see you at dinner today?”   

Kibum turned his back towards Jonghyun and clutched onto his chest as he noticed the latter’s troubling tone. “I wasn’t hungry. Now if you don’t mind, please get out,” he groaned and cursed himself as his stomach precisely in that moment choose to make a rumbling noise.

“Uh-huh,” Jonghyun stated, obviously sarcastic. Kibum listened how he moved closer to his bed and he was sure that he heard something being placed at his nightstand, in the same instant as Jonghyun sat down in the usually chair and throw his crutches onto the floor. “I brought you some food though. It’s very important for you to eat and gain strength.”

He sighed of Jonghyun’s stupidness and enclosed himself in his blanket. “Didn’t you hear? I told you to get out,” Kibum repeated, this time with a stern attitude – however broken as his voice got stuck in his throat due to the tears that gathered in his eyes – in a hope that he would get the hint.

“Hm? B—Bummie is something wrong?” Jonghyun’s tone was caring and worryingly, and hell, he even called him for Bummie. For the second time this week Kibum started to cry because of Jonghyun, as his heart ached and he just wasn’t able to keep it inside for any longer.

Why does he have to make it so hard to be mad at him?

“N—Nothing is w—wrong,” Kibum muttered wavering. Probably the most obviously lie in the whole world. Soon he felt a pair of arms pull him up in a sitting position and found their way around his slender waist, which actually just made him cry even more as he hide his head in the crook of Jonghyun’s neck and started to hit his own small hand against the other’s strong firm chest while mumbling: “I hate you,” in between all his sobs.

He felt Jonghyun tense by the words and (for some reason) squeeze their bodies closer together. “W—Why?”

“B—Because…” Kibum started and inhaled. If he had to say this, he had to do it probably: “…Even a blind person, can see love.”