Fear has a way of overwhelming the senses, drowning out every inkling of anything else important. When the ringing in his head finally dulls to a faint hum, the smell of wet concrete reeling him back, it isn't the weight on top of him that he notices first but the immediate panic that chokes him and sends him writhing. 

“Chaeyoung?” he gasps out, fingers reaching for the seat beside him, unable to turn his head under the weight. She doesn't answer, and her silence hits him harder than the approaching muffled voices and deafening sirens. He sees fuzzy shapes flashing in blue and red but she isn't anywhere among them. As his hand frantically feels around, all he can think about is how he's failed her, how he shouldn't have let her come, how in his entire life he hasn't been afraid of many things and losing her has never crossed his mind as one of them until now. When his fingers nimbly twine through the tresses of her hair, he finds it's unusually dry as opposed to it's natural silkiness.

This feeling - it frightens him more than anything.

They don't end up in the same room because Jungkook's injuries are incredibly minor - the truck came from her side, he remembers now. He hates it, he hates that she suffered the biggest brunt of the hit. It should have been him. Really, what did he have to look forward to? A life time of debt and disappointed parents to come home to. But Chaeyoung - she had the world planned out from end to end, every milestone and resolutions to ruts in the road. And all of that would have began the moment she sat down in the exam room with a straight face and pen in a death grip. 

“How is she?” he asks for what seems like the millionth time to the nurse who comes in with a wet towel to place over his head. He's asked so many times that the question doesn't demand elaboration.

“Still unconscious. She's been in a coma even before the operation but it isn't fatal, you shouldn't worry.”

“I need to go see her.” A mild ache runs along his spine as he abruptly sits up, trapped between the bed and the nurse's hand coming up to stop him. 

“You have a fever and you're still recovering, you shouldn't move,” she warns.

“It's just a fever, I'll live. I've suffered worse.” And Chaeyoung's been there every single time, he remembers (at the most inconvenient time). But he can't help it - every cut, bruise and open wound always serves as a reminder of honorary nurse Park Chaeyoung scolding him for skateboarding without protective gear whilst grazing his skin with cotton swabs. Her skin is always soft against his, not like the rubbery gloves the nurses where when handling him like a disease infected animal. 

“You really shouldn't. And she's not allowed to have visitors right now unless they're family.”

Family. He inwardly shudders at the thought of Mrs.Park stumbling into the emergency room, finding her daughter in pools of red and tatters. He wants to see her, though part of him is afraid guilt will wrack him when he sees her condition. 

“I need to see her—”

“You can't!” The IV cart jerks forward with the tug of his arm, and he hisses as the needle sinks deeper into his hand. “Don't do that!” she shouts, trying to grip his hand only to have him yank it back, the tape ripping straight off. 

“Don't touch me you wrinkly !” he blurts out, eyes squinting at the contact. When they're fully open again, a hush falls over the room, several patients turning their heads in surprise. He makes eye contact with some gentleman with an eyepatch then a girl with a prosthetic leg before slumping back into bed with a quiet, “sorry.”

When the shock of having a patient shout at her finally washes over, she continues, “we've tried calling your parents but no one seems to be picking up.”

Of course they aren't, he sighs and nods. “Do you have any other relatives we could contact?” Chaeyoung - the name hangs on the tip of his tongue because she's the one he seeks out when he's hurt (and now it's the other way around and he thinks he's selfish for thinking he somehow hurts more). He wonders for a moment how sad it is that it's his childhood friend who comes to mind first instead of his family, though some people don't have anyone to seek out at all. 

He shakes his head no, remains silent when she asks why that is, and somehow - thankfully - she just understands. “I know it isn't my place to ask but... is she... someone special to you?” she asks in almost a whisper, as if afraid of being caught out of her element. “I was curious since she's the only one you've been asking for since you two crashed together.”

It feels like the millionth time they've had to answer some variation of this question. Are you two dating? What are you to each other? Is he your boyfriend? Is she your girlfriend? A world in which the closeness of boys and girls rouses suspicion of some kind of romantic subtext. There was an ickiness to being told it was inevitable that he would fall in love with his friend whom he once during one of their daycare sessions deemed his woman of honour in the rare event that he gets married. It really makes what he feels now all the more conflicting.  

“We're not—” He pauses, exhaling a breath, then continues, “it's complicated.” He realizes too late that he hates that answer - it's the same one Jimin always gave when he used to pine after Chaeyoung. It really wasn't complicated, Jungkook thought, as he could have had her at any moment but held back because of Jungkook's constant passive aggressive pouting and bluffing. And when he finally got her, she slipped through his fingers or at least that was how he saw it and he thinks perhaps it was more complicated than he thought.

Whatever it was, Jungkook thinks he doesn't want to be like Jimin at all. 

He's discharged from the hospital the next day, a cotton patch secured to the left side of his forehead and cheek with a few stitches along the back side of his neck, but what matters is that he can stand on his own two feet even after they slipped the bill into his hand - more figures than he can afford in his circumstance but they aren't in any rush (if only the same could be said about the loan sharks on their tail). But he refuses to leave, hovering around the front desk no matter how many times he's told to either leave or take a seat in the waiting room. It really feels like kindergarten all over again, except Chaeyoung isn't there to make him do it.

“For the last time, she's resting in the critical care unit right now and isn't allowed to have visitors. If you want to see her, I advise you come back in a few days,” the plump nurse informs him.

“How many is a few?”

“Can you not lean over my desk?” she grumbles unhelpfully, brushing his elbows away, and he falls back with a frown. 

“I need to see her, please.” He tries not to sound annoyed, and quite frankly he thinks it's working for the first time because of how genuinely desperate he is.

“From the looks of it, you're going to be fine. I have more important things I have to attend so will you kindly leave?” A sort of menace drips from the last word, and he finally pushes himself off the front desk with a strangled huff. 

But he still doesn't leave the hospital and lounges in the waiting room instead. It's agonizingly boring, laid out over two chairs and listening to the soft yet raggedy hum of the vent, distant conversations blending into incomprehensible drawn out drones, and children giggling at some cartoon on the small television overhead. A nap starts to feel more and more impossible as his mind is bombarded by a plethora of discomforting noises - coupled with the solid hand rest he's trying to lay his head on while his feet hang over the other chair. It's times like this he misses her thighs more than anything and—Oh God her legs—he thinks back to the girl with the prosthetic leg and starts to panic for all the wrong reasons but he can't stop himself.

No, he can't stay here.

“You killed her?!”

“I didn't kill her.”

“You almost did!”

Jimin doesn't sit when he's panicked, Jungkook remembers as he watches the older boy pace back and forth in front of him. This is really the last place he ever imagined he'd be but some instinct told him only he would know what to do though it doesn't seem like it right now.

“How bad is it? Is she okay?”

“They wouldn't let me see her but they said she'd be fine.”

“Of ing course they said that, they always say that—”

“Can you not shout?”

“What, am I freaking you out?!” he enunciates even louder, “did you not feel that way when you left her alone with loan sharks and crashed their van? And to save a chicken?!”

Jungkook has never seen him this upset before - probably only once or twice on rare occasions - and he doesn't know what scares him more, the fact that Jimin's angry or that the more he gets yelled at, the more it starts to sink in how terribly he's ed up. Yet Jimin sees it in his eyes - the fear - as his head bows forward to avoid his burning gaze. He attempts to calm himself down, in a long breath and letting the oxygen swim around a bit. It seems that anger only goes so far with Jungkook until it melts into inevitable pity because he really doesn't mean any harm (at least not when it comes to Chaeyoung). Rationality is (or should be) Jimin's forte, he reminds himself of that as he collects his thoughts.

“I'm sorry,” he finally says after a while, “it isn't your fault.”

“It is my fault.” He lets his head droop into his hands, “what do I do, hyung?”

“There really isn't much you can do except wait.” He finally sits - a sign that he's calmed though Jungkook certainly hasn't. His demeanor seems to have changed in an instant, resting a hand on his shoulder. It feels like he's simply trying to fill the void of Chaeyoung not being there but then again everything is starting to seem that way. Jungkook thinks his delusions are getting to him. “I know it's going to feel like a long time but try to keep your mind off it until she gets better. Just focus on moving forward right now.”

“What if she doesn't get better?”

“That's also something you need to avoid thinking about. The what ifs. Don't think about it.”

“Now that you're telling me not to think about it, I'm going to think about it.”

“For god's sake, Jungkook, just—”

“Jungkook?” They turn to find Taehyung standing in the doorway to the living room, clad in pajamas though he isn't about to sleep, just prepared to be at any time because he has nothing better to do and Jimin knows it.

Jungkook looks at him with widened eyes, beyond amazed to find him here. They haven't seen each other in years. His round face and distinct features haven't changed but his voice has gotten unexpectedly deeper. “Taehyung? What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he smirks, “what, does Jimin not talk about me?”

“I thought Chaeyoung would have told him,” Jimin admits.

“Why would Chaeyoung tell him?” Taehyung says with furrowed brows, leaning against the doorway. 

“Didn't you two used to date?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well... it seems that since you used to be in that sort of relationship, don't you think it's something notable to talk about running into you again?”

Taehyung and Jungkook look to Jimin, then directly at each other, and realize that not much has changed at all as their expressions mimick each other's. Jungkook understands why Chaeyoung wouldn't mention Taehyung - he may have been significant to him as his middle school best friend but to Chaeyoung, he was an awkward mistake, a stone in her life that she leaped over and never looked back at. She didn't say much about Taehyung on their date but Jimin took the idea of a 'relationship' to mean something a little more or at least from his experience with them. But what Taehyung and Chaeyoung had can only be classified as a spur of the moment occurrence, two completely different worlds colliding, and perhaps that was why Taehyung never bothered Jungkook the way other guys did.

“I dunno,” He shrugs. “I actually can't even remember what it was like when we dated. She's gotten pretty now, though, I'll say that. It's a shame she dumped you,” he says, patting Jimin on the shoulder as he takes a seat next to him on the couch.

“She didn't dump me,” Jimin defends, “we just decided it was the wrong time.”

“Right. And that's dork language for she dumped you.”

Jungkook stifles a chuckle, turning his head away but Jimin knows there's a broadening smile on his face. Taehyung, on the other hand, doesn't hide his amusement and lets out an unrestrained laugh at his friend's reddening cheeks. He doesn't remember much about what it was like dating Chaeyoung but he thinks the way Jimin looks when he's embarrassed reminds him of the way her face used to look in the early stages of their relationship. She always laughed at his jokes until her stomach ached - everyone did, really - but he liked the way her voice sounded the most when she laughed and that was why he wanted her. He wanted to listen to her laugh for as long as he could, because she looked the prettiest when she did. 

“I'm kidding. But what crisis brings little Kookie here?”

“Chaeyoung's in the hospital,” he answers gloomily.

“Oh , what happened? Did you do her too hard?”

“Can you not?” Jimin gives him a hard pinch in the arm, and the boy yelps like a pup in distress. No matter how many times Jimin has scolded him, Taehyung never seems to have a filter. Surprisingly, even in his troubled state, Jungkook isn't disturbed by his distasteful wits, with even a hint of a smile on his lips. They've been apart for a long time but that hasn't caused them to drift much in personality. “I forgot to ask, where's the chicken? Was it a lost cause?”

“Nugget survived. She jumped out of a window and they took her into a shelter. I can't have her back until I provide proof she's mine but at least she'll be safe there,” he assures, more to himself.

“Why did you go through all that trouble to get her?”

He presses his lips together, eyes drifting to the floor. It was the last thing Chaeyoung asked - the last thing he was about to tell her - before they crashed. “It's complicated,” is all he can say - Jimin recognizes that an answer like that means he really won't say anything else. He huffs a defeated sigh, and leaves it at that.

There's a long, dragged out awkward silence that engulfs the room. Through it, Taehyung looks at Jungkook for a long while, as if checking if his face has changed at all since they last saw each other. There's no denying he's matured really well, his babyish features have become more defined and handsome. Him and Chaeyoung both, now that Taehyung thinks about it, and he wonders if he's undergone a good transformation of his own seeing how they turned out.

“Can I talk with him alone?” Taehyung breaks the silence, earning a raised brow from Jimin. Nonetheless, he rises from his seat because there isn't much he can do at this point to contribute (and he questions how much better his loudmouth roommate could be at this) so he gives them the space and heads into his room.

The second Jimin is completely out of sight, Taehyung kicks his feet up on the coffee table and turns his attention to the attentive yet distraught younger boy. “Why did you want to speak to me alone?” he asks curiously.

“I didn't, really. Just wanted to put my feet up without him barking at me.” Taehyung lets out another laugh and slaps Jungkook on the back, causing him to lurch forward. “You're a lot gloomier than I remembered. Or did I just catch you on an off day?”

Jungkook remains despondent, his head lowering with a crushed sigh. Taehyung always knew how to kick him back up on a bad day but this is a kinda of guilt that can't be remedied by prods and cheap jokes. 

“Look,” Taehyung begins, slinging an arm around his shoulder, “I don't know what happened with you and Chaeyoung, but the fact that you're here covered in bandages and Chaeyoung's still in the hospital tells me you probably put her there.” Jungkook involuntarily winces. “What are you afraid of, Kookie?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” He brings his face closer, and Jungkook can smell the faintest trace of rum and cigarettes. Perhaps something has changed after all. “You wouldn't be this freaked out if you weren't afraid. So what is it? Are you scared that she won't make it?”

Another wince, and he closes his eyes with a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he utters softly. 

“And you think all of this is your fault.”

“Yes.”

“And you're afraid that if and when she wakes up, she'll hate you for what you did.”

“Mhmm.”

“You're scared of that happening because you like her.”

There's another long silence, Jungkook's face contorting into an unreadable expression. For a moment, Taehyung wonders if he's crossed some sort of line with his intuitive guesses as he watches him freeze in his seat with clasped hands. He really isn't as good at this consoling thing as Jimin is - he's tried a couple of times, leading to unfortunate outbreaks and people calling him on his ignorance - but this is something he knows or should know. He knows Jungkook and Chaeyoung or at least he did. Some of the best days of his life he spent with them, and in those days he still remembers how there was always some twinkle he saw in Jungkook's eyes when he looked at her and how he wondered if his own eyes twinkled the same way. He realized they didn't. He was just like every other guy that pined after Chaeyoung, drawn to the pretty girl with the charming voice. None of them ever looked at her the way Jungkook did. And now he wonders if Jungkook has realized that at all.

“You know Chaeyoung's not like that,” he finally says, “she's not going to be mad. Especially at you. You've gotten away with things I can't even start to imagine, and that means a lot.”

“Why?”

“She likes you.” Jungkook knits his brows together at the oversimplified answer, but he continues. “ever since we were little, she would always cover for you no matter how many times you screwed up. Remember that one time you spilled milk all over the math teacher's laptop?”

They both laugh amusedly at the memory. It was the longest scolding they had ever received from the crankiest old man. No one would fess up. Chaeyoung knew lying would cost her reputation but she also knew that Jungkook getting caught again for a fourth time that month could get him in more grave trouble. So she threw herself under the bus and was pardoned with a few skeptical looks from the disciplinary teachers. Yet as small as the whole incident was, it meant something. 

“You do understand that there isn't anything Chaeyoung cares more deeply about than her studies,” Taehyung points out, and it's as true as the sky is blue. “Except you.” Jungkook shoots him an inquisitive look, and he elaborates. “That was one of the reasons we always fought back when we dated. She always did things for you that she'd never think twice about doing for me. At some point I got jealous, which was weird because at that point I realized I didn't even like her as much as I thought I did. I found her too boring and studious.”

“Then why didn't you break up with her?”

“Because you were there,” he leans back with a sigh, “when all three of us were together, there was something about her that changed, I still don't know what. When I watched you two together, talking and laughing, and the way you understood each other so well, I thought I wanted her. But when we were actually together, I realized she didn't look at me the way she looked at you and that made me angry. Fourteen year old me didn't even know what love was but I knew I wanted what I couldn't have.” He looks down at the ground with a slight smile, “I was surprised, really.”

“About what?”

“The last time I saw Chaeyoung, she was on a date with Jimin. I was amazed because... I thought at this point you and her would have gotten together already. I know it's a touchy subject and I don't mean to poke at it but—”

“I know,” Jungkook interrupts, placing a hand on his shoulder, “thank you, hyung.”

Taehyung chuckles, flicking his hand off. “Hyung? When did you get so formal with me?”

“We haven't seen each other in a long time.”

“Doesn't change the fact that we're best friends, right?” Taehyung shifts closer and looks him in the eyes, noticing the way they've become less sullen. “I hope I could be of help.”

“You were, thank you,” he smiles back.

“Good. Because this is the first and last time you'll ever see me get that deep.”

The news of Chaeyoung regaining consciousness simultaneously hits him like a rush of dopamine and an anchor weighing him down. Mrs.Park somehow manages to convince the staff to let him in - no one quite has the wits to stand up against her sharp tongue. After hospitalizing her daughter, Jungkook sits nervously next to the thirty-ish woman as the nurses prepare Chaeyoung for visitors. There isn't an inkling of resentment or bitterness in the way she looks at him even though she has every reason to be - any mother would be in her position, but she remains just as level headed as she always is, and he wonders if it's out of pity that she doesn't admonish him. 

“I'm sorry,” he mutters, “for letting that happen to her.”

“You couldn't have stopped it,” she replies.

“I should have told her not to follow me.”

“She would have gone anyway, that stubborn girl,” she sighs, “it's not your fault.”

 “Will she be okay?” It sounds like a ridiculous question to ask, especially to her, but something in him yearns for reassurance.

“I believe so. Chaeyoung's a strong girl, don't let her size fool you.”

“I don't.” They exchange a mutual, understanding smile, but Jungkook still doesn't understand why Mrs.Park always gives him a pass on his outrageous antics. She's been like a second mother to him, always inviting and nonthreatening, and he believed for quite a while that maybe she was as generous with everyone in Chaeyoung's life until he saw the way she never really approved of anyone else. It made him feel special but there was a kind of pressure added to not knowing what exactly her standards were and how long he had before he screwed up so badly that he wouldn't be welcomed into their home anymore.

But there's a quality to her that makes him forget all his doubts and insecurities - a silent reassurance that he's always welcomed even if he doesn't know why. Right when he's about to pipe up again, mustering up the courage to ask, a nurse enters the room and gives them the okay to come in.

The room they enter is much less dark than the one Jungkook remembers waking up in, sunlight bleeding in through the thin curtains, illuminating the white washed walls and bedsheets. Chaeyoung's bed resides at the very corner of the room by the window as she requested to be somewhere brighter to get her mind off the iodoform smell. She's always hated the stench that lingers in every hospital - a little ironic, she thinks, considering the fact that medical school has topped her list of career paths. When her mother approaches her bed, Jungkook sluggishly trailing close behind her, she turns to face them with a vibrant smile. His heart starts to thrum a little quicker in his chest - from great relief or the way it always does when she smiles like that, he can't tell - but as Taehyung once said, she really does look the prettiest when she smiles, and the world seems to vanish completely.

The sunlight shining in behind her makes her look so lively despite how much she's paled from the surgery. The first thing Jungkook notices is how the silkiness has returned to her hair, an odd comfort. Her condition isn't as horrible as Jungkook had feared. A few bandages around her arms and neck, some patches taped to her forehead, but every limb is still perfectly in tact (though he wonders if she can still walk). The doctor, a man in his late fourties with a slight limp and a noticeable gut, walks in ahead of them with slouched shoulders and a clipboard in hand. 

“How are you feeling?” her mother asks.

“A lot better than yesterday. I had a fever for a while after the operation.”

“Where did you get hurt?” she walks up to her, one arm tenderly wrapping around her shoulder and the other hand feeling her forehead. 

“Some bones in her back were fractured upon impact. Her left leg was also severely twisted under the weight of the vehicles. Fortunately, the operation was carried out with minor to no difficulties and we were able to mend up her injuries. She can't walk right now but her recovery is going well, her health is strong. It's unlikely that she'll be permanently disabled.”

“That's good to hear. Thank you, doctor.” She sighs in relief, giving her a gentle peck on the forehead. “When can she leave?”

“If her recovery goes as planned, she should be out in about a week.”

“A week?” Chaeyoung sits up straight, forgetting the stiffness in her back and trying to fight back the urge to cringe at the sharp pain that runs down her spine (but she knows her mother will notice anyway, and she holds onto her shoulders before she can rip through the bandages), “My first exam is this week, I can't be absent for it!” Jungkook swallows hard at the panic that flashes in her eyes, seeing the way her fingers tremble when she grips the edge of the bed. “Is there any way I can be discharged for one day?”

“I'm sorry Ms.Park,” the man shakes his head, “there are too many complications with having you out of the hospital, especially after that fever you suffered. I'm afraid I can't let you leave until you're further along in the healing process.”

“It's alright, Chae, they'll pardon you. You have a legitimate reason for not being there,” her mother tries to console.

“But I won't be able to apply for Yonsei—”

“You have the grades, you can apply next year.”

“But—”

“Mrs.Park, sorry to interrupt but there are some documents regarding discharge and medication I need you to fill out right now as I need to tend to another patient, is that alright?” the doctor interrupts, and Mrs.Park simply nods with a quick, “of course,” before turning back to Chaeyoung. “I need you to rest easy right now, alright? I'll be right back. Don't stress yourself out over anything right now. You matter more, remember that. There's no rush,” and with that, and a soft peck on the forehead, she follows the stoutly man to the front desk.

When the two are out of sight, it's only Jungkook left in her field of vision, glued to the same spot he resided the moment they walked in. All of the dread and sense of impending doom drains from her face like water down a sink when she sees his face. He looks unusually timid as he stares at her like a total stranger rather than the boy she's known since they were children. He's wracked with guilt, she can feel it without asking, and it makes her sigh, a modest smile gracing her lips. His hands have sunk deep in his pockets just as his teeth have sunk into his lower lip, contemplating what he's supposed to say. It truly is unusual - the rare event that Jeon Jungkook has nothing to say - and Chaeyoung wonders for a second if the impact left him that way.

“I'm not mad.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you making that face?” She frowns in a way that almost perfectly captures his own, making him laugh just as she expects.

But then it comes back, except he approaches the bed slowly, eyes downturned and fingers shyly grazing the edge of it. A faint redness stains his cheeks, she sees it clearly for the first time because of the sunlight coming through so clearly. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, “I didn't mean for any of this to happen.”

“It's not your—”

“Everyone says that so I don't hate myself but it is my fault. All of it. Everything that goes wrong is always because of me and I'm sick of people lying to me, and I hate that you always take the blame for everything. It's because of me that you can't walk. It's because of me that you can't take your exam this week. It's because of me that-” He pauses as his voice cracks on the last word, but as he tries to turn away, Chaeyoung grabs hold of his hand with furrowed brows and heavy concern in her eyes. “...that you're always held back from what you love.”

The room falls dead silent. Chaeyoung thinks her heart skips a beat or two before her chest clenches painfully at his words. It hurts like a knife twisting into her chest that self loathing practically bleeds into his words, and even more so that she was oblivious to it. “That isn't true,” she says, watching him emit a soft, skeptical scoff. The tension is almost unreal, something she always thought could only be conveyed through exaggerated dramas and movies. But this is real - from the throbbing in her back to the warmth of his clenched fist in her hand. “You're what I-...” she pulls back, “I care about you.”

“Why?” He looks up at her, mildly upset. “What reason do you have to care so much that you nearly get yourself killed every time you come with me?”

“I just do, okay? I don't know why,” she responds with equal fervor, the most honest she's ever been, “I never question why. When I'm with you, I just do it because... it feels right. It's always been this way, hasn't it?” She finally leans back to quietly look into his eyes, seeing him finally look back attentively. He doesn't respond for a long while, but the small glimmer in his eyes that (she thinks) she sees is enough to soothe her nerves, assuring her that he understands. It feels like forever since they've had a moment like this - just them, drinking in each other's presence - except instead of the quiet of her living room with his head in her lap and the white noise of the television going off in the background, it's the silence of a white room full of sickly patients and softly beeping pacemakers. Though it hardly makes a difference, really, because either way the world always seems to vanish completely when they're like this. Just the two of them, the comfort of being together, and the way it always feels like home away from home.

“Yeah.”

There's an air of pretentiousness the invigilator emits the moment he steps into the examination room, though to students this is really meant to come off as intimidating. But to Jungkook, the most intimidating thing about being here is knowing that lurking around any corner, the loan sharks could be back to finish what they started. Knowing their violently persistent nature, he'll probably never be safe again. It makes being near Chaeyoung all the more problematic, he thinks. One of his debts is paid, at least, as Mrs.Park graciously took care of his discharge fee. 

The desks are aligned almost exact distances apart from one another, and the first thing anyone notices about the invigilator, besides his thick accent and large frame, is the way his eyes dart around the room inexplicibly fast like he's been trained to do it his whole life to keep tabs on cheaters. Out of the five hundred students in this room, he could probably still spot just one moving out of bounds.

When the exams have been handed out to every student, faced down, the invigilator begins reading the examination conduct - a list of rules, expectations, and possibly consequences for anyone who fails to abide by said list. Jungkook pays no attention to the figure at the front, drowning out the sound of his voice with his thoughts just as he would with headphones plugged into his ears. He's never studied and crammed so hard in his life, balancing knowledge he never thought he needed. He briefly wonders how Chaeyoung manages to do it and how all of it doesn't weigh her down. More importantly, he's always wondered what she wants to do with all of it. Every teacher says Park Chaeyoung's future is as clear as day and bright as the radiant sun but what does it all amount to? She's always aimed high, climbing the ladder to who knows where. He thinks back to how utterly crushed she looked when she found out she couldn't be here for the exams, growing ever more curious about her intentions.

But he has little time to ponder about it as the invigilator gives them the signal to begin, setting the clock and ensuring everyone begins simultaneously.

Jungkook flips the package of papers over along with the group, multiple fweps echoing through the room. The clock has begun. Of course, the first question is the simplest, the easiest, and the most essential. He makes sure to answer it immediately.

Name: Park Chaeyoung.

It's a known fact that hospitals are agonizingly boring. Staring at the paint drying and chipping off of walls while inhaling the pungent smells of anestheptics and mixed perfumes of visitors - it's really no wonder some permanent patients go crazy at the lack of stimulation. Televisions installed overhead don't provide much entertainment with limited channels, though it's comforting to switch to the news once in a while to check up on the rest of civilization that's not confined to a cramped bed. 

Jungkook isn't a tech savvy but remembers a few hacks Bambam had taught him when they had messed around with their teacher's lecture notes. He successfully hooks up the small screen with Chaeyoung's game console. Pulling the curtains closed around them, they start to battle it out like old times on ODE while suppressing their shouts and laughter to avoid getting caught. 

“You've lost your touch, Chaeng,” he provokes with a chuckle, right before her character comes at him with an ax. Even with his attempt at maneuvering out of the way, his character's head comes clean off, digital blood gushing like a geyser (he's always wondered if it would look like that in real life). 

“My , I am,” she exclaims confidently.

He turns his back to her, hiding the widening smile on his face. He missed this. He missed them.

They spend a good portion of the evening playing and filling the boredom that's been gnawing away at her for days until she's satisfied and can't stop herself from grinning every few minutes. The time gets away from them - day rapidly turning to night - but they don't notice through the closed curtains, too enveloped in the game. In each other. His laughter is contagious, and when the nurse finally asks him to leave because it's getting late, they wonder if it's because it's dark or if it's a thinly veiled excuse to get rid of the noise. Jungkook doesn't plan on leaving, he made that clear when he came in with a bag full of snacks and an extra set of clothes. “If I'm leaving, you're coming with me,” he had proclaimed.

“You said you hated waiting rooms,” she points out.

“I do,” he nods as he pulls out a set of headphones, “that's why I brought this.” She smiles, then nods as well. “I'll see you tomorrow then,” he says after packing up his things and slinging the bag over his shoulder.

“Wait.” She sits up. He turns to look at her with raised brows. “You still never told me about... why Nugget is important to you.”

His teeth sink into the inside of his cheek, blinking hesitantly at her. He was about to tell her the truth back before they crashed, and he remembers how certain he felt about it too. She looks at him now with the same expression she did back there, eyes full of genuine concern and curiousity. He trusts her more than anyone he's ever met. As insecure as he feels about it all, he's certain that she means more than his pride. 

Huffing a deep breath, he slumps down in the seat next to her bed, looking into her eyes once more. In this moment, she appears so different to him yet at the same time, not at all. Still the same Park Chaeyoung who sang him to sleep every night and shooed mean children away, but also a different Chaeyoung - one whose smile makes him lightheaded, whose scent sends his heart into a frenzy, and cheeks ablaze. The one who looks at him the way he thinks (hopes) he looks at her and if Taehyung is ever right about anything, Jungkook hopes (needs it to be) this.

“Okay,” he sighs, “it starts like this...”

A/N: So THAT happened. Hope you liked this chapter and again thank youuuu for supporting. Again, how often I'm able to update is becoming blurry because of school coming up but I shall try my bestest. ^^ I have great plans for this fic and hope to at some point finish my threeshot INKED and as you can see I tend to lean towards angst but I hope this series doesn't fall down too deep into it (only for the sake of plot development lol). 

ALSO late happy birthday to Kookie~ I've been listening to his 2U cover because his angelic voice soothes my nerves. Ya'll should check it out too.

~peace

Here's a cute lil thing I pieced together (chibis aren't mine but they're cute as mmmm).