The green surgical gown was too hideous, he had grown repulsive of it. It was sickening, how he wished he could rip it off. The shamrock green stained his body, leaving an indelible mark like a tattoo, etching his pale skin, corroding his flawless body. Jimin sneered, internally mocking himself, everything about him was so piteous, making him all weak and forlorn. Jimin snickered in despise.

His doctor walked in the room, the familiar figure, the one he had been facing for five years. His concern towards the boy was surely indisputable, no one had taken care of jimin with this much of dedication, not even himself. He was always there for him, perhaps, after all, he was jimin’s only anchor, his only bulwark against his breakdown. He didn’t own jimin’s instant liking, but he owned a spot in his heart, an appreciation, a partiality.

The doctor approached, the same weary smile on his face, he didn’t change, five years and not a single bit. He jimin on his hair, slow and gentle. “Are you ready, jimin?”

Jimin looked into his eyes, there was a hopeful glitch flashed across them, it was solemn, but he was trying to at least instil some hope, to tell jimin everything was going to be fine. Jimin too, wanted to give him assurance, wanted to tell him he will stay strong, wanted to at least have faith in them. But he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t say those words. His heart had succumbed to despair, to give up on trying, to abandon his hope. He didn’t dare to talk, he didn’t want to, not after his words tore everything apart. He kept quiet and closed his glassy eyes.

“Don’t be afraid, jimin” the doctor took his hand into his.

Don’t be afraid, jimin

His voice rang by his ears. Jimin knew it, he knew he would eventually recall the voice, the voice that always sang him to sleep, that could always ease his pains, that would always tell him how much he loves him.

Jungkook, I am so afraid. I am so afraid jungkook, where are you?

“Doctor, it is about time” even the nurse was in the filthy green.

“Is everything ready?” the doctor tightened his grip of his hand.

“Yes. Donor’s in his best condition. Chemotherapy can now be carried out on recipient”

“Jimin, are you aware of the procedure?” the doctor questioned him softly.

Jimin nodded. Nothing mattered to him anymore, he didn’t care.

Another bed was pushed into his room, jimin silently climbed onto it and laid down. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing. He shut his eyes.

“Jimin!”

☆☆☆

Jimin urgently opened his eyes again. He thought it was him.

It wasn’t.

“Jimin, did you tell him?” the doctor rushed to his side, hands gripping onto the rim of the bed.

Jimin’s dark brown eyes looked as if an ocean had been encased inside of small glass marbles. He shook his head. Then the smooth spheres appeared to be cracked, the ocean had started to leak, little water droplets streamed down his temple.

“Do you want to tell him?” jimin could hear the sobs in the doctor’s brittle voice.

“No” his voice was wobbly.

“I will see you again, jimin” he loosened the grip, the bed was being pushed away. Towards the uncertainty, fear and loathing. For an instant, fright invaded his whole being and seized his inside. Jimin clutched the bedsheet, supporting himself on his elbows and sat up abruptly.

“Doctor Lee!” his breathy voice echoed.

“Is there anything wrong?” the doctor sprinted across the hallway. “Jimin, what’s wrong?”

Jimin clung to him once he was by his side, white coat scrunched up under the boy’s tight grip.

“Doctor, can you please tell him?”

“What do you want me to tell?”

“Tell him...” he didn’t know what to tell. He never knew what to tell.

“Tell jungkook, I am sorry” and he free his hand, letting go of the coat, letting go of everything.

And he realised, like waking up from a dream, he saw the light before engulfing by the dark.

His anchor was jungkook, all this while, it was always jungkook.