He remembers each second with clarity and each emotion flowing through his bloodstream feels like a crushing weight of the world that has him as he watches as it all unfold, recanting in his head, each second that lead to the crashing burn as though it was an exhibition that was solely made for him, singularly made to inflict pain into his system. 

The feeling in his stomach, is something akin to torture.

She had won the race, three-seconds faster than her previous best but as she reached the finish line, the tyres didn’t stop in the effortless way they usually did. Instead, ears were graced with the sound of screeching tires, loud gasps from every corner at the burning of tire that left the scene to look more like wreckage. 

He ran. 

Every security personnel was too engulfed in the smoke, rushing their machines over to her with sirens blazing, rushing her into the underground medic. 

He didn’t get far, fingertips reaching for the burning hot metal that had flown through screaming out her name to get no response. 

And there, he finds himself outside of the recovery room waiting for answers that none of the professionals had any intention of sharing without any indication of the time, other than the unusual rumbling in his stomach and the vibrations coming from his phone which were probably from his fellow members wondering why he wasn’t around for practice or even breakfast. 

He doesn’t care about the ever moving hand of the clock and as much as he hates it, he thinks everything would perhaps be meaningless if he doesn’t get to tell her how sorry he is.

The scene replays through the back of her head, the vicious nature of her words before she ran off into the race and the scent of burning rubber that doesn’t seem to leave. 

Until the doors open, the physician ( if you could even call him that ) extends a silent nod, an unspoken permission to allow him into the room. 

“  She’s okay, just a few bruises and shock and potential torn ligaments. Sounds like she’s a strong girl,  ”  the strangers comments, a tired chuckle before he pats the younger gentleman, “  …  take it easy on her, we’re slowly weeding her off the drugs so we’re not sure how much pain she’s in. Call out if you need us.  ”

A miracle of sorts, yet a tragedy in its own way.

Jeon Jungkook quickly moves onto his feet, wrapping arms around the other in gratitude, “  …  you have no idea. Thank you so much.  ”

Park Chaeyoung is a fighter, he knows and it seemed as though defying all odds was a realm she’d become an expert in. It’s no