#not to mention surgeries in general are the most energy-demanding thing hospitals do

[teenagefeeling]

not to sound completely bitchy but i do hope lip fillers go out of style soon. first of all i've always thought it has some really weird racial implications for white women to suddenly be treating big lips like a fashion trend but second of all i genuinely think it just makes people look like they have a medical issue most of the time. also one time when i was little i watched an episode of 1000 ways to die where a woman's breast implant exploded on a plane and tbh my brain just imagines people's lips doing that whenever they have too much filler in

[betweentheracks]

Heyo! Not to be too nosy here but you mentioned you're in bad health and recovering, and I just wondered what happened? Also how would it impact your career since, from how you've made it all seem thus far, it's a highly active and demanding job?

Hope you take care and get well! You appear quite strong and not like you'd take whatever has happened just lying down, so here's to you!! 🙏💓

No sweat and no worries here, I dont find this particularly invasive. If anything, I'm flattered you care to ask after me lol. 😁

A few weeks back I met a friend I hadn't seen in some time for lunch. This was against my better sense of caution that I've held firmly to throughout the pandemic, but I would feel regretful and dismissive if I didnt agree to see her while I had the chance. I should've listened my gut and stayed safely at work because this "friend" failed to mention she had tested positive (she knew already by the time of our lunch date, she has since admitted) and had figured since she had no symptoms there was no harm in being in public.

FF only a few days later and I was feeling a little unwell but had put it off as an effect of the winter blast that had just hit where I live. I'd spent half a day out in the cold and snow for a photoshoot only the day before and thought it was probably due to that since I'm susceptible to weather influenced head colds and bronchitis. Fortunately, my job mandates a rigid COVID-19 screening twice a week due to our high profile clientele and as an assurance of health and safety for us all. Mine read back with a positive and with the way I had been feeling I was immediately sent home and the company closed its doors while the building was sterilized and our clients notified.

Thankfully I managed not to infect anyone I work with nor my son. Regrettably, I did infect my best friend since we're horrifically incapable of maintaining personal space and have weak shit immune systems. We both agree it is a wonder we made it this far into plague times without it catching us.

So I went and got looked over and sent on my way with my prescription of potent anti-virals and steroids. I was well prepared to abide the quarantine guidelines and had sent my son to my mother's home for the duration so that he was out of the danger zone. It was fine, I was kinda cool and keen on getting a few days to myself to rest up and all that jazz. But it wasn't meant to last and I found trouble in the form of being unable to remain conscious much at all and would pass out constantly. After a few times of this I gave my brother (he's a doctor and vaccinated) a ring and told him that my fatigue was no joke dude and needed him to come give me a better once over than the one I'd gotten before bc I was sure I was not meant to feel this badly. He found me unconscious in the shower that night, my head battered from crashing to the basin.

After ensuring I wasn't concussed and jokes on what a hard head I have to take such a beating and show no signs of registering it beyond bruising (a joke between us due to him having once accidentally put a golf club into my forehead and fracturing my skull but that's a different story) he told me to call him regularly so that he can review how I feel and the progression of my symptoms and left. By the morning I had already had two more instances of sudden fatigue and collapsing in on myself. I had been posting on my main blog here about how I was doing and due to this I caught the concern of @peekbackstage and upon their suggestion to have my O2 levels tested it was revealed that I was having issues with my blood not circulating oxygen as it should and nearing hypoxia.

Here's the rub. I have a heart condition that is already very dangerous and bleak which limits my heart's capability of delivering blood through my body as it should. Cardiomyopathy or, as it seems better known, congestive heart failure. I've had surgery for it and it has been a while since it caused me any real issues as long as I stick to my routine of care and manage my health, but when COVID-19 infiltrated my body it immediately snagged upon this weak heart of mine and sank its fangs in.

Within a day of being admitted to the hospital I had a grand mal seizure due to the constant fluctuations of oxygen in my blood and the way my body was working double time to supplement for it. And only 2 days after that and when my nervous system had finally quieted down, I went into full cardiac arrest with a heart attack at my young age.

My next weeks were spent connected to machines doing more for me than my own body could. I developed pneumonia in my lungs, acute though it was it was still another complication that my wrecked body had to overcome as it made my already ragged breathing even worse. I was steadily shedding muscle tone and definition due to a lack of mobility and the fact that my body felt like a deadweight I could hardly take command of, and generally very weakened. My heart, the horrible thing, was inflamed and trying too hard by beating too fast, too hard.

FF some more and I was doing fairly well and treatments were showing some improvement. My heart was still being an ugly and gnarled beast in my chest and throwing weird spikes on the monitor that raised alarms. The pneumonia was retreating and I had no further seizures. It was the dawning light of my first signs that I was recovering!

It took a while more and so fucking many tests day in and day out for me get cleared for release. I tested negative for COVID-19 and was ashamed that I actually forgot that that was why I was even in the hospital to begin with, given all that happened. I have to undergo physical therapy and counseling; PT for heart happy exercises as well as to manage to my depleted muscles, counseling bc I was rocked mentally from all the almost dying and the depressive haze of being holed up in the hospital and surrounded by people who, like me, came in with COVID-19 but unlike me did not come out of it.

I'm home now. I had to have a pacemaker implanted and must stay vigilant for any showing that my heart is not performing as it should. I still have some severe inflammation and chest restriction in my airways as well as my blood vessels but nothing too daunting. I also have a full battalion of prescriptions, most for my heart, and a nebulizer to ease any breathing issues. The worst is honestly that I still am very weak and have severely limited reserves of energy.

My job is required to make me take 12 weeks of leave for rest and recuperation. This is very upsetting since I had been requested by name to be an assistant stylist at the Grammys this year which is truly a dream (especially with BTS in the mix 😩😩) and also bc I'm just a workaholic by nature and love my job. When I return I am expected to learn how to properly delegate tasks that do not directly require me to handle and slow down the pacing of my projects. My boss terminated a contract with a client that was nearing the scheduled end of our agreement and was also incredibly problematic to help lighten my workload. It's imperative that I reign in my stress levels or my heart will not last until the next surgery I'll need, so I'm gritting my teeth and letting my job be picked apart to reduce my responsibilities.

My post awaits my return but I will not be returning to full activity for a while after, which means no rifling through the racks for hours alongside the archivists in search of the perfect piece. I'll be welcome to meet with my clients and oversee the glam teams, will still be the command tower for final verdicts on which styles to use. But I will not be running around showrooms nor personally handling matters any competent trainee could be tasked with like I've always done. I will no longer be able to fly out anywhere for destination shoots or fashion shows.

If, after my next surgery, things are better and my heart stable to the point that they are hopeful of things will be reevaluated. While it is difficult beyond measure for me to relinquish the reigns of my career and be restricted in what I can do now, I am very thankful to be alive and upright when that wasn't a certainty just a little while ago. This is such a humbling experience to have survived when my stats kept dropping every day. I've been told to expect that I will never make a full 100% recovery and to expect to stall out around the 70%-90% range, with 70% being the most realistic.

My best friend (the one I gave the plague to) will be moving in with me so that I am never on my own if things go tits up and to assist in wrangling a toddler since I am currently without the energy to do so as my child is, sincerely, a crazy gremlin spawn with limitless battery life. Slowly, my life will regain some normalcy 💖

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

How to Endure: Cancer in the Time of Pandemic

[Originally posted March 28, 2020]

Hi all, Welcome to a very special birthday post from me in which I mostly think about what it's like to have cancer in the time of a global pandemic. As a way of topping my last year's celebration--where I was just about to start chemo--this year the world is sheltering in place under quarantine orders as an unprecedented public health disaster unfolds around us. (Sorry if my prediliction for dramatic narratives is in any way responsible for this fact...) I've been trying to work up the energy to post and let you know that I'm doing ok in this time of a global emergency...as ok as anyone I guess. I should say right off the bat that I am not, right now, immunocompromised, although I am at risk for it. We can all hope my system keeps bouncing back as it has done to keep me out of the most vulnerable group. (I do also have lung tumors, so a respiratory infection would automatically come with complications.)

Mostly, I spent a lot of the past two weeks wondering not if but how the pandemic was likely to affect my cancer treatment and I finally have enough information to confirm that, as of now, I'm still able to stay on the study and get chemo as planned this coming Thursday (April 2nd). I had been scheduled to get CT scans on Tuesday, March 31st to assess whether the treatment I started at the end of January has worked well enough for me to continue on the clinical trial. Although I get so many that it has perhaps come to seem routine, "scanxiety" is a very real phenomenon because these are how you learn whether things are going well (or well enough) or whether the disease has "progressed" and you have to regroup and try again with a new treatment plan. It had been since October that I had had a positive scan, with November showing a halting of improvement and December and January documenting the reversal of recovery. So obviously I was anxious and wanted them as soon as possible. Hearing reports of "non-essential" treatments being canceled, my Penn oncologist and I decided to try to move my scans up. After many phone calls and the efforts and good will of a number of doctors and hospital staff I was able to get them on the 23rd in Princeton (avoiding both the drive into Philly and the potential for exposure there). I'm glad we did because I learned yesterday that the treatment has been working fine; not great, but well enough that a) some tumors got somewhat smaller, b) no tumors got bigger, and c) no new metastatic sites were observed. Clinically, that's ruled as "stable disease" b/c in order for it to be a "partial response" you have to have your cancer go down by at least 30%. But reversing the trend of growth is still a win, and perhaps more time will see more results. And crucially, I do not have to investigate a new treatment option or try to change in the midst of what is soon to be the crest of the pandemic wave of cases. It's only relatively lucky, but I will take it! I have also seen reports in the cancer community about people having their chemo canceled as non-essential, which was shocking to me. I wrote last year about feeling like cancer should always be a "red ball" case that gets rocketed up the chain for testing, insurance approval, etc. and being shocked that it just wasn't. I understand that in some cases where a cancer patient is immunosuppressed, even attending a treatment at a hospital may pose greater risk than delaying it because the risk of infection is such a threat. But that is an extraordinary statement to make, amidst a daily barrage of extraordinary statements. Not all the stories were that clear-cut, though, so I was glad to hear from my doctor that as a stage 4 patient my scheduled treatments will not be bumped. I cannot have any visitors (and it's a pretty rough thing to do alone), but I can and will get through this. We all will. Because we all have in us more than we know. *** Shortly after my beloved grandma died (suddenly, from complications during surgery) my dad told me that one of the last things she said to him was that she would be ok because, "I'm a warrior." And she was. From a tiny place in the woods of east Texas, as a teenager she ran her family's store during the Great Depression and cared for a mess of brothers. When my daddy was eight years old, she and my grandfather picked up and moved away from a community where they knew everyone and had for generations to Dallas--an unfamiliar big city--because his younger brother had been born deaf and they wanted to send him to a special school. She founded and ran her own school, an income she supplemented with other jobs while my granddaddy was away walking pipeline for an oil company. When I knew her, late in her life, she had lost her sight but continued devouring books on tape and listening to the clues on "Jeopardy!". I was the first and only grandbaby and I was adored (not to say spoiled). The only times she actually saw me, before she was blind, I was just a few months old, chewing clean laundry in the basket in which someone had deposited me. As I grew up, she would feel my face, my hair, my ever-increasing height (and joke each time that "I'm going to have to saw your legs off!"). She would listen to my voice on Sunday phone calls; do crossword puzzles with me, as I read clues while lounging on her velour sofa; offer a "piece of Hershey" or a stick of spearmint gum from the same blue tin on the table in which she kept her cigarettes. She could still piece quilts by feel, even though she couldn't see the fabric, and advised me on the 1ft patchwork square I made for my doll's bed. She was weakened, exhausted, blind, and often in pain (which she tactfully never mentioned with me around). Except when she changed to a polyester pantsuit for visiting the doctor, she wore carpet slippers and housedress with a pack of Marlboros in the pocket that she lit from a gas burner, leaning on her walker by an ancient stove. No one knew quite how old she was when she died--our best guess is eighty-three--because she was also the kind of Southern lady who told no one her real age. She was a warrior in that, despite all that had happened in her life and all that was happening to her body, she kept on going. She endured.

When I search for inspiration to continue with treatments that make me feel worse than the disease, to fight so hard to save a body that's betraying me, to stay in an increasingly terrifying world that's betraying all of us, I think of her last words. I'm a warrior. I will endure. Believe it or not, you are also and you will too. In our struggles to continue with our lives in the face of monumental uncertainty and paralyzing anxiety, our greatest achievement is to keep on going. We fight (each of us different things) so that we may endure. It is not pleasant. It will reduce you to tears. You will exhaust all your emotional resources. But you will triumph. I have been fighting, existing in crisis mode, for 14 months and that is how I know that you can do it. You must grieve (and allow yourself time for it) for what you have lost, including a sense of safety or normalcy. But as you press on, you will find that inner strength or resiliency. I'm sorry that this is being demanded of you. It is not fair. But that will not change it. You may grieve, cry, fight, and struggle but, ultimately, you will accept that your way forward, your treatment, is to endure. I've reflected a lot on social media about how living with stage 4 cancer accidentally prepared me for the experience of the pandemic. I wrote a coda to an essay that will be published--likely this May--about the "Body as Data." Since the coda itself will probably change by then, the situating evolving as rapidly as it is, I thought I would share it here. Thank you for being with me and providing that community that has been the saving grace of treatment. Love, Bex *** As of writing this essay, it’s been 14 months since my diagnosis. I have tried three different treatments, two of which were clinical trials, one of which I am still enrolled in. It is approaching my thirty-sixth birthday [it's actually today - March 29th] and everyone is sheltering in place because of the coronavirus. I have lived more than a year now tolerating the same kind of existential uncertainty and fear of an alien invader in the body that the world as a whole is now experiencing. I have played my own doctor, watching my body for signs that a treatment is working, or that it is not, in much the same way. I have tried to anticipate what will happen if I become immunocompromised (as I currently am not, but am at risk for) and given up many of the pleasures that made my life better before (traveling, going out with friends) in the name of my health. I have offered my body up as data to research scientists with the goal of furthering not just my own treatment but the survival prospects of future patients. I did not know that throughout this year I was in training for a time when we would all of necessity be regarded as bodies with the potential to produce valuable data about the spread and effects of COVID-19. We are starved for numbers, for data on infections and recoveries and for statistical models that may relieve us of the uncertainty we feel about the future. I cannot provide that. But I can tell you to be cautious readers of data and statistics that speak with any pretense to authority right now, even though I crave them too. Cancer is invisible and so are viruses. This particular virus can inhabit the body but produce no symptom and live for days on surfaces. It may be in us. It may be in those we love. We are in the middle of the data. We are the data. Susan Sontag wrote in Illness as Metaphor that “Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place” (3). A pandemic transcends borders but does not do away with the kingdom of the sick. As someone already resident, I can say to you: welcome. The hardest thing about being here is the grief for what we have lost, including a sense of normalcy. The best thing, though, is what we may find: community in a time of crisis.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 16)

Azula is lethargic with painkillers, the drone of the overhead lights and constant blipping of the heart monitor are sources of agitation. Had her mind not been dulled by the medication she might still be quivering at the assessment she had been given some hours prior. 

Koh had severed several nerves, apparently, her speech abilities are nothing short of a freakish miracle--or so they say. She refuses to call it a miracle, more so, stubbornness. It has been significantly harder to pronounce things with clarity, having the full use of only one side of her face. The nightmare is mostly of the cosmetic nature, but that does little to console her. 

She holds a packet and reads it over for the sixth time since getting it. A nerve graft. She has heard the term graft as it is used in the cosmetic surgery sense. Skin and bone can be borrowed from somewhere healthy, somewhere that can afford to spare some tissue, and placed in the desired area. Apparently the same can be done with nerves.  

Six months, and that is the best case scenario, is the predicted time frame for her to begin seeing the results of the surgery. But it can take up to a year. 

And in the case of the donor nerve it can take several years to regain feeling. 

The packet details that they will borrow a nerve from a place that has less value. They mentioned two places to borrow from, the leg and the arm. After mentioning the track team the medical team declared that they will likely they will extract the nerve from her upper and inner left arm. It will scar over and leave portions of her elbow and forearm numb. 

But at least speaking won’t be a tedious process. At least she’ll be able to move her face. At least, after another several years, sensation can return to her arm.

Her eyes tear up. She had anticipated the possibility of a appearance-related disaster, but this…

No one had told her that she could lose feeling in her face. She imagines that Dr. Guhira would have discussed the risk factors. 

Azula’s breath hitches. The tears she had been holding back come forward.

Ozai doesn’t scold her for it this time. He sits across the room, heavy in his silence and stern of face. 

He doesn’t demand that she does her school work, but she refuses to fall behind and she needs something to take her mind away from things that are out of her hands. Hospital visits will be semi-regular for the first few months so she ought to get used to doing classwork while confined to a hospital bed. Her father is already working to pay some of her professors extra to tutor her via video chat. 

From the sound of it, physical therapy appointments will be every Monday and Wednesday, after hospital clearance, leaving her room for only astronomy.  

Azula fidgets her fingers for several minutes before mustering up the energy to start on Kyoshi’s newest reading assignment. The woman and many of her other teachers have offered adjusted, easier assignments to cater to her predicament. 

Pride had her refusing the offers, which apparently still stand. 

“Mrs. Kyoshi is willing to teach you through video chats, if you need help on any of the lessons. I also found you a personal tutor who will teach you right here in your hospital room.” Ozai informs. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“I have the best doctors lined up for you, they’ve been operating on cases like yours for decades.” 

He wouldn’t have had to pay for the most prestigious doctors if he had done the same with his plastic surgeons. She almost asks him if she’s supposed to be proud of his generosity. She holds her tongue in equal parts because she doesn’t want him to pull said funds and because she doesn’t want to speak with him at all. 

“They’re success rate is nearly eighty percent. Almost all of their patients make a full or almost full recovery.” Ozai elaborates.  

“Yeah…” 

.oOo. 

The morning of her surgery, a semi-cloudy Saturday, she has a small cluster of guests. Technically only two or three people are supposed to be in the room at once, but the Kasai family name has some influence. For it, her mother lingers at the side of her bed and Zuko at the foot. Ozai remains across the room with Mai and Chan. She has dubbed this row of chairs as the row of shame. They can sit their for as long as they want but that doesn’t mean she will address them at all. 

TyLee had taken the fourth seat in that row. But TyLee has this way of softening Azula. The girl pulls out a panda plushie and stuffs it under Azula’s arm with a bright smile, but not before holding it up to her face. A face painted with a puppy dog pout as she mutters an apology. 

Azula sighs and accepts the gift with a muttered, “don’t be, I yelled at you.” 

Perhaps if her situation wasn’t so dreary, she’d feel elated to have TyLee hugging her and grinning at her again. She steals a look at Chan and Mai, maybe she is being hard on them. But then again they haven’t been particularly friendly either. 

Mai stands, “I’m wasting my time aren’t I?” She slips her hands into her pockets. “I can be helping my mom watch Tom-Tom…”

“You’re not wasting your time.” Azula mumbles. For her low effort, the statement is unclear. So she repeats herself. 

“You haven’t said one word to me or Chan since we got here.” 

“It’s hard to talk.” That much is true enough. She hasn’t really spoken to Zuzu or her mother either. In fact, she is fairly certain that TyLee is the first person she has vocally responded to all day.

Mai sighs, “right. But you can at least acknowledge us.”

“Acknowledged.” 

She feels Ursa’s thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Somehow the dragon pendant around her neck seems more apparent. 

“You’re still angry aren’t you?” Chan asks. 

“At you?” Azula asks. “Pissed.”  Yet she doesn’t have the heart to tell him to leave. She can’t say that she wants him to. 

“Azula!” Ursa 

Katara shows up a little later, Sokka tagging along. Azula half expects Ozai to make a fuss about the elections. To try one of his trademark intimidation tactics but he remains quiet on the other end of the room, opting to glare crossly instead. 

“Sorry to hear about all of this.” Katara sets a small vase of flowers onto Azula’s night stand.”Moon lilies.” 

But Azula is more interested in the black pot holding them. It seems to be a hand painted piece. In neon green is a cartoony alien surrounded by bright yellow stars and a white and red rocketship. Dotted lines loop and swirl in an equally cartoony indication of movement. Towards the other side is a UFO and a cluster of comets. “Sokka helped me paint it.” 

“So that’s why I can’t tell what that is.”

“It’s an astronaut!” Sokka declares. 

“I suppose that it can pass for an astronaut that got mauled by one of those aliens.”

“Is she always this friendly?” Sokka asks.

“That’s just how she talks to people.” Chan shrugs. “You get used to it after awhile.”

Azula runs her fingers over the petals and reaches for her drink. 

“It doesn’t hurt as much, does it?” Katara asks.

Azula points to the bottle of painkillers. “I’m sure it does, I just can’t feel it.” It does help that they have since drained the seroma. With most of the swelling aside, she can see fully out of her left eye again.

She heaves herself upright and reaches for her phone. Zuko hands it to her.

“I’m glad that you’re okay.” Chan says.

“I’m not okay.” Her eyes seem to dim.

“But you will be!” TyLee gives her a light squeeze. “It’s like when we were kids and you fell out of that tree. You got right back up again.” 

“TyLee.” Her voice hitches. “I’m not getting right back up this time.”  She swallows, bunching the bedsheets up in her palms.

“I can’t see you staying down for good.” Zuko shrugs. 

She stares at her lap. “This didn’t have to happen. I could have said no.” And she supposes that, that is the heart of what tears her up. “I could have just gotten the nose and chin job and quit while I was ahead…” She pauses. “I thought that it would fix things.” 

It is a wonder that Katara and Chan haven’t hit her with a classic, ‘I told you so.’

 “I did this to myself.”  

“You had some good help.” Ursa fixes Ozai with with a sharp and piercing glare. The sort that could cut diamonds. Her father’s face remains impassive under it. 

“A lot of help.” Chan mumbles. 

Azula puts her head back against the pillows. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is…it’s done.” 

Ursa’s hand tightens around hers. At least she isn’t alone. She takes in the cluster of people around her. There are more people present than she thought there would be. She checks her phone to find well wishes from Suki, Toph, and Ruon. And a small, ‘get well soon’ from Aang on her social media page. 

From Yue, she finds a, ‘your face isn’t too fucked up, right?’ Azula thinks that this might be her way of displaying concern. But she isn’t sure. She searches for a message from Jet and finds none. 

She looks up from her phone to see the head doctor step into the room, “the operation room has been prepped.” The woman says. “Please wrap up your discussion so we can begin the operation.” 

Azula bites her lip, ignoring the small twinge of pain. She takes a deep breath. “Thank you for coming to visit me.” She isn’t sure who she is addressing, she supposes that it is just general gratitude. “Especially you, asshole.” Another stern look from Ursa. “I know that you’re still mad…” 

Chan rubs the back of his head. “I don’t really think that it matters anymore. It was kind of a dumb argument.” 

She wouldn’t say that it was. Within it there had been some valid points of discussion, but she doesn’t have time to get into that. “We can talk about it some other time.”  

He nods. 

Ursa pulls Azula into another hug, brushing a hand over her hair. 

“Good luck, Azula.” Mai speaks. 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” 

 One by one, the room grows vacant until only her father remains. And then he is shooed away. She takes a deep breath. She supposes that it will be hard to make her situation much worse. At least this time, she has some real doctors.

[wannawrite]

Crownless - KD

who?: Wanna One’s Kang Daniel genre: 🌺 type: scenario word count: 6.1K TW: gang au, violence, blood, hospitals, death

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The Royals PJH | PJH 2 | KD | KD 2 | PWJ

Crownless is the life a Royal had in their past - before crowns had been placed on their heads.

this little series is going to be more angsty because it is the past that is left behind. A good reason has to trigger the want to abandon something Hope you guys enjoy regardless!

- admin l

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything that is written here is purely fictional DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

~ 

Seongwoo hissed, feeling blood soak through his best friend’s shirt and coating his hands. His grip on Euigeon’s arm tightened, afraid of letting him fall too far beyond salvation.

“There isn’t enough time,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “You’ll die before any doctor reaches us.”

Euigeon could only groan in reply. His vision was blurred, brain fogged with think clumps of mist. He could feel the energy being drained out of him like a tap left running. Euigeon could feel Seongwoo trembling, supporting his weight while sustaining his own injuries.

Maybe Seongwoo was fearful too.

The sound of sirens and flashing white lights spoke to Seongwoo, warning him that even the pavements with the poorest of lighting were not safe. He had to get both of them off the road.

Now.

Seongwoo stumbled into the darkest alley he could find, shielding Euigeon from the eyes of their enemies. He heaved a sigh of relief when the cars passed by and they remained undiscovered.

But Euigeon wound had started to bleed more profusely, there was no way to harness it. Jaewon would never get to them in time. Heck, who knew if he was even alive. Either way, Euigeon was too far gone for their gang’s medic to patch him up - even if he was right around the corner.

A neon sign flashed against the night sky, it seemed nearby. The sign read ‘Central Busan General Hospital’.

Hospital.

Seongwoo hastily ripped another strip of his shirt to wrap around the gunshot wound, hoping it would sustain Euigeon until their journey was over. There had to be someone who was willing to help them, and it had to be a person who was not going to push questions. It felt like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Sure, no one would notice the enormous gash on Euigeon’s side. The blood on their shirts would be invisible. They’ll get caught, sent to jail, possibly end up spending the next few years of their life there. However, if they did not receive medical attention, there was a higher chance that both may perish. If Seongwoo played his card’s right and trusted Euigeon’s sensibility, then they would be saved.

“Hang on tight,” he whispered firmly. “We’ll be there soon.”

~

The journey was not easy. Most of it was spent ducking down, taking shady shortcuts through a neighbourhood Seongwoo did not hail from.

Busan was Euigeon’s playground. When did his toys become a weapon against him?

Euigeon had become significantly paler and weaker by the time the South entrance was in sight. The area was well-lit and has many people milling around despite the time. It was dangerous for them.

“No,” Euigeon muttered. “G-go by the back emergency entrance. People...p-people...too...many.”

Steering clear of the crowded main entrances, the two boys limped over to the back of the building under the cover of dormant ambulances and vehicles. Euigeon fell from Seongwoo’s grip, slumping over on the steps beside the door.

He could hear his best friend’s frantic voice yelling for help, a mishmash of chatter melding together and a short moment of silence passed before heavy footsteps started to head his way. Euigeon peeled open his eyes with his last burst of energy to see a flurry of worried faces. He felt himself being lifted off the ground, hauled onto a soft platform, giving his body a good break. The last thing he saw was a stark white ceiling, even brighter lights and the telltale diamond white coats of doctors.

~

PATIENT REPORT

First Name: Euigeon Last Name: Kang Sex: Male Age: 20 Diagnosis: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Procedures: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Estimated date of discharge: 12 August 2014 (Dr Yeon Hongseok)

~

PATIENT REPORT

First Name: Seongwoo Last Name: Ong Sex: Male Age: 21 Diagnosis: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Procedures: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Estimated date of discharge: 11 August 2014

~

“Doctor Yeon, don’t you think...it’s getting a bit ridiculous? Why are you going to such lengths to make sure such few people are aware of this situation?” you posed the question, voicing your thoughts out loud. 

Since that strange night, you noticed a shift in your mentor’s personality. Dr Yeon was usually more outgoing and open to other doctors about his patients but with these, he seemed to be protecting them from the world.

His antics frightened you as they were unusual, peculiar and unlike the mentor whose care you had been under for nearly three months now.

After immediate surgery had been performed on those two patients, he ordered them to be warded in the private, ICU ward. Then, the only people with access to the ward were him, you and a handful of experienced nurses. Dr Yeon was the only one who handled their medical reports and often stayed in the wards longer than the nurses did. Your mentor could lose his job if he continued keeping to such extreme confidentiality that some of the reports were clearly mishandled.

Still, he went ahead after your warnings.

It left you wondering what was so special about these two odd patients. They were around your own age, clearly, students working hard to graduate from their respective institutions.

You wondered how on earth one of them got shot in the chest and the other stabbed in the arm - most of their body suffered harm. Their knuckles suffered abrasions but not from recent encounters. Meaning, they were most likely boxers or took part in such a sport.

They intrigued a nosy intern like yourself.

Dr Yeon chuckled, sipping his coffee and scribbling words on another report. “Hardly. These boys are in my care. I’m doing what is necessary. Don’t tell me you gossip about patients in your care to all your friends.”

A guilty red coated your cheeks and you snapped your mouth shut, refusing to pursue the case. That was not what went down in the staff lounge. You padded down the corridor after Dr Yeon, offering brief smiles or greetings to fellow personnel.

The halls became much quieter when you reached the private wards. A different world from general wards.

The scanner beeped happily, recognising Dr Yeon’s ID card and popped the door open. He went ahead to examine his patients’ condition. As usual, they were fast asleep, showing no sign of any movement.

“I promised them to keep all information to myself. There are some matters that not everyone’s mind can handle,” Dr Yeon mentioned. He said it casually but you were certain those ‘matters’ were very serious.

Then he went about carrying the daily procedure. You remained at one side, eying both patients intently.

“Any sign of improvement?” You asked, prepared to scribble down notes.

Dr Yeon nodded without hesitation. “My guess is that they’ll regain consciousness tonight or tomorrow morning. Poor things, it must have been a traumatic experience for these kids.”

You inhaled sharply, hastily writing down Dr Yeon’s words.

Kids.

~

Dr Yeon was correct.

The first one to wake up was called Seongwoo. He was clearly out of it and confused when he opened his eyes. Still, he managed to comprehend a lot for someone who had been asleep for four days.

He called for a ‘Euigeon’ when he first peeled his eyes open. When Seongwoo understood the situation, he relaxed, leaning back onto the fluffy pillows.

Seongwoo managed to stomach a small snack and a short talk with Dr Yeon. Clearly, he was in no condition to be out and about again.

Despite all the pain, Seongwoo remained cheery, much more smiley than the usual patient. His sweetness made you sneak in a candy bar from the vending machine outside.

Euigeon arose a few hours later. As his injuries sustained were more serious, it was expected that he was dazed and less aware of his surroundings.

I mean, this guy got shot and knocked out for nearly a week straight.

Euigeon emitted some sort of boyish, fearless aura, yet a large part of it reflected his goldenness. He was charming, no doubt about that.

There was no control over the blush that washed through your face.

However, his confused and lost antics made you forget about his intimidating aura.

“Doctor,” he called out softly. “Do you like cats? I really miss my cats. But I’m not even sure if I can consider them my cats because all I did was pet and feed them in an alley. They’re my cats, aren’t they?”

Seongwoo traded a look with you before stifling his laughter. You tried your best to maintain a serious face but it posed to be challenging.

“I-I’m sure your cats are doing quite fine. I-if it helps, I can check on them,” you offered, half-jokingly.

Euigeon brightened immediately, his eyes widening. “You’d do that? You’d look after my cats for me, Doctor?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to reply. There was no easy way to crush his cat-controlled heart.

“Um, sure. Just, just give me a location and description of your cats.”

In the far corner of your eye, Seongwoo was chortling with laughter, muffling them with his pillow. A serious deadpan was sent his way.

“Y-you guys relax, I’m going to get Dr Yeon and, and we’ll attend to both of you shortly,” you said while quickly slipping out of the room. Outside, you caught a breath.

Both were undeniably attractive, one was a childish cat lover, the other had a thing for humour.

Your head shook in either disbelief or amusement.

Children.

~

“Euigeon! You aren’t allowed to eat jellies!”

Frantic, you snatched the bag from his bedside and examined its contents.

Gummy bears.

“Where did you get them?” you demanded, worry and anger seeping into your tone. Every patient had a strict diet regime to stick to and this was not sitting well with either of the boys.

Euigeon gulped guiltily, shoving the last gummy bear into his mouth before answering. “I walked to the vending machine outside and bought them. Luckily, there was a dollar on the ground.”

The plastic wrapper curled under your furious grip, cholesterol levels rising faster than Euigeon’s blood sugar levels.

How, how, how, how did all the luck in the world pretty much swing in Euigeon’s direction? He did get shot but he found a dollar on the floor next to a vending machine selling his favourite gummy bears.

“Dr Yeon told us to relax in our last stages on recovery,” Seongwoo voiced through a toothy smile. He seemed eager to get discharged from the hospital.

Your form collapsed dramatically into one of the cushy guest armchairs, raising a hand to rub your temples. “I’m so afraid you guys would die without my care.”

For the past few weeks, you had grown accommodated to dealing and tackling these two patients. As the three of you belonged to the same decade, it was easy to bond over the simplest of things. Still, you had to be strict when it came to their wellbeing. Not only were they your friends, but they were also under your medical care. This added on a ton of anxiety for you to perform well.

It also made working ten times more fun.

Hushed whispers filled the space as you readied their dose of medicines and drips for the hour.

“Everything okay?”

Seongwoo flashed a nervous smile in response. He remained strangely silent as you went through the patient report.

Euigeon was the one to break the quietness that lingered in the air. “W-would you like to know the full story behind...o-our injuries?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be top-secret or something?” you replied quickly, breath catching in your throat and you turned away from meeting their gazes.

What the heck what the heck what the heck what the heck

“I’m a boxer at my...a-aunt’s gym,” Euigeon began somewhat cautiously. “I-I,”

“He’s trying to say that we got into a gang fight, with another gang,” Seongwoo jutted in, cutting the long story short. When Euigeon shot him an unamused glare, he raised an eyebrow in response.

“You looked like you needed help.”

Bells began to ring in your ears, alarmed at the confession you heard. Was your hearing betraying you? Did you hear them correctly?

It all added up. The secrecy, the shadiness, how quiet the room was for such loud wounds.

Your frickin’ gummy loving friend with the heart of a puppy was in a gang fight? Unbelievable.

Yet, was it disturbing that you saw no wrong in their status or ways? Was it because they were your friends? Had these kids become so likeable?

“The other gang thought we were messing up their drug supply but we don’t even touch drugs,” Euigeon explained. “Sports and heroin don’t mix. Neither do coke and cats. I think it’s dumb to invest in these substances.”

While it was heartening to know that they were not in the illegal drug ring, gangs in general still frightened you to a certain extent. The news reporters and countless write-ups have not painted their activity in the prettiest of lights.

Moving onto filling up Seongwoo’s report, you decided to press them more. “Why couldn’t you go back to your gang doctor? Don’t all gangs have one?”

Euigeon bit his lips together, pupils shaking uncertainly at your question. Seongwoo flicked his gaze anywhere but remotely near your form.

Eventually, either one of them let out their answer with a sigh. “Jaewon’s as good as dead or gone. We didn’t see him after he got stabbed. Too many people and then the police came.”

“Oh.”

Time passed excruciatingly slowly. Every single movement or sound made was now amplified. The clatter of the clipboards. Clinking of apparatuses against each other. The rolling of trolleys down the hall. Soft crinkles of fabric rubbing against each other.

The sound of blood rushing through your veins.

Your lips pursed, mind reeling hard to think about a possible proposition you could offer. Of course, you wanted to help them. Saving lives was your passion and,,, and these two were your friends.

By far, this was the most,,, unsettling but interesting confession ever heard from a friend - much less a patient. Your reaction had no time to be well-thought through or processed. It frothed out like bubbles from an over-boiled pot.

“Okay.” You finally resumed a proper breathing pattern. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Relief flooded through both their features, shattering any walls of fear that built up over time. Seongwoo beamed brighter and larger than ever. Euigeon nearly choked in disbelief, his crystalline eyes widening.

Empathy.

“And I’ll help you. I’ll always be reachable if you guys encounter anything.”

~

Under a watchful eye, your hands wrapped supple gauzes and bandages around Yiyang’s forearm. He winced ever so slightly at the impact on his gash.

Yiyang was Dr Yeon’s new regular at the hospital. In the wee hour of dawn, he had limped in with a severely twisted ankle.

From that moment onwards, you knew whose hands he would be placed in.

Dr Yeon, who kept tabs on almost every secret society member in Busan.

Yiyang was not the gentlest patient you had encountered but he was not the rowdiest either. He often reminded you of Seongwoo and Euigeon. The thoughts left you wondering about them.

Since August, you had only seen them once in September for a brief patch up. Thereafter, you caught a glimpse of Euigeon’s hair when you had gone to visit his alley cats. So far, it appeared as if nothing dire had befallen them.

Which was always good. Good, their lack of presence in the hospital hopefully signified they had been well off.

“Look after yourself, Yiyang. I hope to see you in better shape soon,” you said earnestly, offering him a reassuring smile.

The boy flashed a million dollar smile, nodded and promising to heed your advice. Dr Yeon stepped in, instructing him to rejuvenate for a few hours before getting discharged. “You and your dislocated shoulder are going nowhere.”

With a small smile, you slipped out of the curtained off area and back to the busy hallways. There was nearly never a moment for ER personnel to rest.

Suddenly, a nurse came rushing in your direction. He grabbed your arm, muttering incoherently about how there was somebody who requested to see you.

“Bloody wound...”

“He’s losing a lot of blood...”

“He only wants you to treat him.”

The thudding of your heart began to increase, along with your footsteps which quickened in a flurry.

Euigeon. Seongwoo.

Hunched over the side of the reception counter, Euigeon was pressing a hand to a bloodied spot above his eyebrow. Red marks streaked the sides of his face and dark lines were smeared across his clothes.

Shit.

His mouth stretched into a smile of utter solace when his eyes fell on your form. Euigeon tried to wave a hand but the pain was too much for him to raise one.

“Stupid,” you cursed under your breath as you reached his side. “How can you be smiling at a time like this?”

You placed a finger over his lips before he could reply and assisted him to the nearest treatment room. Thankfully, it was nearby.

Euigeon managed to haul himself onto the cushioned platform, he inhaled sharply. “I need help.”

“I have eyes, Euigeon and now, I want to hit you in the head. What happened? What did you do? How did this occur?” Rubber gloves were stretched onto your hands in record speed and you carefully began to assess the damage done.

Euigeon hissed when your finger pressed down a little bit too hard on the injured area. Justifiable, the cut was sizeable and rather deep, the edge of it jagged.

“This needs stitching up,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “What caused this?”

Euigeon shifted his gaze and smiled sheepishly. “I was at a bar when a person, probably from another gang, threatened to fight Jihoon, my...my coworker. It was a dumb reason.”

A hum left your lips in response, encouraging him to continue the story.

“I ran, Seongwoo ran, Jihoon ran but not before he punched the other man. We were a good block away when I tripped, and that guy smashed a beer bottle on my head. My memory is fuzzy after that but all I know is that Jihoon and Seongwoo hyung got him.”

“Did they drop you off?” You began to collect and gather supplies to begin cleaning the wound.

Euigeon pressed his lips into a fine line. “I hope so. I can’t...remember exactly.” He dropped his voice a notch lower. “I’m scared, y/n. Those are my brothers. T-they may have gotten hurt. God, I’m so scared for them. They need me.”

His loyalty was admirable, really. But in his condition, there was no way he could be of any help to the other two.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find them if they need me. Calm down,” you whispered soothingly into his ear, pulling him in for a hug. “Trust me. You’ll be fine. You’re in my hands now.”

A warmth spread through your body when Euigeon returned the embrace. Your stomach clenched when he tightened his grip around your shoulders.

Oh, Euigeon, how would I ever patch you up?

~

Grinning like a fool, Euigeon was wheeled to his rest area that had been prepared. However, he passed by a bed that held a strangely familiar occupant.

Once he realised who the identity belonged to, air caught in his throat and every organ in him coiled. He felt unsafe and insecure.

At the very least, his bed was pretty far away, that managed to partially douse his worries.

“Who is that in bed 528?” Euigeon asked as he settled into his own. It was those sort of ER areas where there were many beds, sectioned off by a blue curtain. For the most part, his section was quite empty.

At his question, your brow furrowed. “H-his name is Yiyang. I-I don’t suppose you know him?”

You pulled the blanket over Euigeon’s form, ensuring he was well tucked in.

“I-I do! He’s with a society called SMRK. They’re known to have quite a few international contacts. I don’t suppose they like my friends and I,” Euigeon hissed in a hushed tone. His jaw was clenched, ticked off by Yiyang’s presence.

For privacy, you shut the dividing curtains, wrapping a bubble over the two of you.

He sighed wearily, shutting his eyes tight a couple of times. “C-can you...not attend to him?”

“You know I can’t do that, Euigeon. It’s my job to make sure he’s well. And, he isn’t a completely bad person,” you tried to reason, patting the empty space on his pillow.

“I-I know. I...I-I’m just so afraid of losing you,” Euigeon confessed suddenly. He reached for your hand and held it tight. “I trust you, y/n. I-I like you a lot and I can’t stand the thought of you not being here. SMRK members are dangerous, they’ll-“

“Euigeon, don’t worry so much.” A red blush bloomed on your face. “If I can handle you, I think I can deal with anyone.”

“Stay here with me.”

You froze, eyes wide and shocked. You gulped visibly, taking a glance at the situation outside. It didn’t seem like they were shorthanded anymore so how much would a break hurt?

So, you grabbed a chair and sat next to Euigeon’s bed, hands entwined. He seemed at ease in this state and it made you all fuzzy inside.

“I’m serious.” He murmured with shut eyes. “I’m serious about liking you.”

In response, your grip around his hand tightened, you ran your thumb over his bruised knuckles. The pesky heart of yours threatened to burst out of your ribcage, thumping faster than a regular beat.

A tiny smile graced your face just thinking about what he said.

~

You had just breezed through the hospital’s entrance when Dr Yeon caught you by the arm and dragged you in the other direction.

“We have to evacuate. I’m getting you and Yiyang out of here before it’s too late,” he mumbled under his breath in an urgent tone. “People are convinced the hospital is a trading ground and hotspot for gang activity. Untrue but I received a tipoff that an organisation plans to raid it tonight.”

At his words, you felt the air being knocked out of your body and your eyes began to water.

“We’re just doing our jobs as medical personnel. Granted, I’ve done my fair share of good and bad. If we work fast enough, no one will get hurt and all would be well.”

Dr Yeon was a lot more alert of his surroundings, he investigated every nook and cranny of his workspace.

Turning to you, he said, “I’ve arranged for an ambulance to take you, Yiyang and Celeste to the nearest hospital. Thanks to his recklessness, that boy won’t be stable enough to run for himself today. You need to get out of here by 6pm. That’s when I’ll call the police to come in and patrol.”

“Why can’t we just stay here since the police are coming?” You wanted to minimise movement as much as possible.

“The reason behind the raid is to find and eliminate rival gang members I suppose - people are so crazy. Yiyang is one of them. Since we don’t know if there are spies, we have to mess up our schedules to throw them off track. I’m going to double check my records. Only Dr Jeon, Dr Jung, Nurse Celeste, Nurse Taeyang and you are aware of this.”

For the first time in your career, you felt like quitting and running. But here you were, scrambling to pack for the journey to the nearest hospital. Celeste’s report on Yiyang was that he was fast asleep, making the plan slightly harder.

Basically, to protect your patients, colleagues and yourself, you had to get out of here. You had no major worries about the aftermath, you would handle it when it happened.

Work was hard to continue when your eyes were trained on the ticking clock. Every second felt like time wasted.

It seemed like the higher-ups of the hospital had played their cards right by calling in more security. The guards gave you some sort of assurance that nothing too crazy would happen.

Hopefully.

When the clock struck 5pm, you and Nurse Celeste tittered out to where the ambulance was supposed to be waiting. You placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her when you realised something was amiss.

“Don’t move.”

Inching closer, you saw how the driver was awkwardly hunched over the wheel. And discovered why.

He was knocked out cold.

You forced the scream back down your throat but it tore through the defences when an arm encircled your waist in a way that made your skin crawl.

However, before whoever it was could act, they were slammed to the ground with a series of punches.

“Euigeon!” You gasped in disbelief and in horror. Now was the wrong time for your boyfriend to be here.

“I heard the news too,” he growled out through gritted teeth. “I have to help.”

You shook your head urgently, urging him to run as far as he could. Even though the plan was somewhat disrupted, it wasn’t to the point of entire failure.

“Euigeon, if you stay any longer, you’ll be dead for sure. I don’t know who’s behind this but I don’t intend on finding out and you shouldn’t either,” you argued, willing him to escape while he could.

Adamant on staying, Euigeon shook his head. A few moments later, Celeste and Taeyang burst through the doors with a sleepy Yiyang in a wheelchair.

Immediately, Euigeon’s gaze snapped to the half-conscious boy. He huffed and looked away, clearly conflicted.

You gulped, slowly stepping away from the vehicle, eying the unconscious driver and attacker on the ground. “Euigeon, I’m going to get security and Dr Yeon. D-don’t...please don’t do anything stupid.”

You turned on your heel and dashed into the hallway, fingers frantically swiping across your phone’s keyboard. To your utmost horror, Dr Yeon was uncontactable -  that made your blood run cold.

“Y/N!” Dr Jeon called your name, she was by the lift lobby, waiting. “Quickly! Gather your things. I’m staying behind.”

“Have you seen Dr Yeon? I can’t seem to reach his phone.” Your breaths were ragged and your chest heaved from all the running. “The driver has been attacked, I’m sending security his way right now.”

She grabbed your wrist before you could move, surprise evident on her face. “They know our plan...”

In one fluid action, she stormed into the lift, forced the doors shut and hit the basement floor buttons.

“You, Celeste and Yiyang have to get out of here...Now.”

The world above you began to shrink as the elevator hit rock bottom. Anxiety levels skyrocketing. Dr Jeon had called multiple people in the span of a minute. She brought her hair into a ponytail and stuffed her lab coat into her bag.

When the two of you arrived at the ambulance, Yiyang and Celeste were ready to go. You threw your bag in with her, more concerned about Euigeon.

He sat in the driver’s seat, door open and unfazed by the happenings. “They brought the driver into ER and the other guy has been arrested. Things are going well.”

You managed a small smile and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. In his arms, you could believe his reassurance that everything would be okay.

However, all serenity was broken by a loud commotion inside the hospital building itself. You prayed that the security would handle it.

Where the hell was Dr Yeon anyway? Where was his signal?

“It's time,” Dr Jeon said, revving the engine and gesturing for you to get inside.

“Go,” you whispered into Euigeon’s ear. “Circle round and I’ll meet you at the South entrance.”

He frowned, brow creased in protest. “B-but-“

“I will be there,” you declared with determination. “Take this.” You unhooked a small plush lion keychain from your phone case. “His name is Daniel. He’s always made be feel braver. So, even if I don’t come back for you, I’ll come back for him.”

Euigeon clasped the golden plush toy, rolling his eyes at your remark. He was scared for you but because he trusted you, he nodded. Fleetingly, your lips pressed against his before he stepped into the ambulance.

“See you soon,” he breathed.

~

Taeyang shook his head when he saw your face. “You don’t want to be here right now. I thought you’d left ages ago!”

“The hospital’s on lockdown. All the wards are sealed because the threats are worsening. Only a master key can open them. Don’t worry, one nurse inside the wards has one in case.”

You questioned him about Dr Yeon’s whereabouts but Taeyang had no clue either. You were not leaving without your mentor. He would be a prime target since he was the one helping the gang members. You had to ensure his safety.

At least Euigeon’s safe now...

That thought managed to make you feel more at ease, stumbling through strangely empty corridors.

“I’m sure Dr Yeon will find his way around things. There are police cars surrounding the area, nothing can go wrong,” Taeyang reasoned. “Now, we need to get you out of here. The fire escape should be the fastest way.”

He shoved a pocket-sized general first-aid kit into your hands for ‘anchoring’ purposes.

The emergency door recognised your work pass and slid open without qualms. You were eager to be reunited with Euigeon and everyone else.

Taeyang took a step forward...

And came face to face with Dr Jung, a gun in his hand and within point blank proximity.

“We were just leaving.”

You blinked and Taeyang had bolted the door shut but not before a bullet was fired into the wall on your side. Dr Jung roared and pounded on the door, firing another shot such that it broke the thin glass panel.

You screamed and Taeyang cursed, running down the hallway.

“Dr Jung?” you shrieked in shock and horror. “He’s the traitor!”

It was a slap in the face for you. A slap in Taeyang’s face, who worked closely with Dr Jung. His betrayal would knock the last nail into Dr Yeon’s coffin.

“Stairs! Stairs!” Taeyang yelled, pointing in the direction of it. Without hesitation, you raced down the steps, two at a time. Just as you were approaching the third floor, the door on that landing was thrown open by...Dr Yeon!

“Hello, Taeyang and Y/N!” Dr Yeon looked roughed up. His coat was half off and a bruise was beginning to form under his left eye.

“Lovely to see you guys here! Sorry I couldn’t get any calls! A virus infected my phone so I had to smash it. Then, Jung’s people got a hold of me but I managed to escape them!”

Or so he thought. Because before you knew it, a hoard of footsteps and shouts followed behind.

You changed staircases in order to throw them off your trail. Unfortunately, these people were smarter than their knife-wielding exteriors and followed suit, pursing the chase.

The burning in your thighs only ignited further, your lungs stung with the force of air you were inhaling. Everything hurt.

Thankfully, the back part of the first floor was not as chaotic as the front entrance. It became much easier to manoeuvre through the crowd.

Policeman. Civilian. Jung’s henchman.

The world became a bunch of muddled blurs. The noise was slowly growing softer and softer but the blood rushing to your ears became audible. Perhaps this was why you could not even process when something came down on your head, hard.

Air had been knocked out of your body. Vision had been stolen from you. White pain seared your entire being. You awaited another painful blow, but it never came. Instead, you felt two strong and familiar arms grip your shoulders and yank you to your feet.

Drowsy, you were able to make up Euigeon’s worried and pained face. His mouth was moving but you couldn’t make out any of the words he was saying. Only when you spotted a bloody patch on his side, did your senses awaken.

Euigeon had gotten stabbed because of you.

He pressed one hand to his side, the other arm supporting you as you limped towards the exit, towards the ambulance.

It was in sight, red flashing lights and all, sirens sounding like a wail, bringing your hearing back.

There was only room for one other injured person on board...

It’s me they want...not Euigeon. He...he didn’t have to get hurt. He doesn’t have to be hurt. He needs the help more than I do. They don’t need him. He’ll be fine.

“Come on! We’re almost there!”

“Euigeon...” you called out weakly, gazing at him for the last time. “There’s only room for one of us there.”

“No!” he protested, pace quickening as much as he could. “Don’t say that. They can work something out. Yiyang’s fine now. There’s space.”

But he was wrong.

With trembling lips, you forced yourself to emit words. “Euigeon, I don’t care if I don’t make it on. I can catch another one later. You need to make it on this one.”

Tears were flowing freely down your face but you didn’t care to brush them away. All you wanted to do was to hold him, all you wanted to feel was his skin against yours.

“I love you. And I never will stop. You’ve given me so much life in such a short time.”

There was just enough time for you to kiss him deeply, for him to grant you a goodbye kiss, though he was still denying the fact that you were slipping through his fingertips.

“I love you too. So, I’ll stay here. I’ll hold onto you, we can perish together. I don’t care because I love you,” Euigeon cried, refusing to let go even as the ambulance doors were being pried open. His tears were wetting the sides of his face, unable to stop flowing. 

I’m selfish. I can’t let you have what you want.

You nodded, savouring the fast few moments. Wishing all that he had said would be true. You would never forgive yourself for being selfish and wanting things your way. You prayed that with time, Euigeon would understand and forgive you.

So you held onto him for as long as you could.

In the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the unbecoming, you tried so hard to prevent. In the centre of the world collapsing on your shoulders.

Then, with all the strength you had left, you shoved Euigeon into the ambulance and slammed its doors shut. You willed for your friends to understand, for them to just drive off.

Maybe they thought you were onboard too but either way, the ambulance sped off despite Euigeon’s endless screams and pounding against the shut doors. 

You doubled over in the carpark, energy gone, blood staining your hands and clothes. Sorry for being selfish, sorry for failing, and sorry for being empathetic. At least nothing hurt anymore.

Euigeon never saw what happened to you but he heard a gunshot resound and that was all he had to hear.

He felt numb, void and the worst part was that all he could do was clutch your lion plushy and wish that he was with you.

~

A year later...

Seongwoo: ahhh, a new start, a new university, new identity Seongwoo: Seoul really is a metropolis Seongwoo: can’t wait for you to get to hq ;) BoA outdid herself with the crazy property Daniel: can’t wait, hyung! be there soon :)

Euigeon, well, Daniel, glanced back at the fluffy clouds dancing above the blue Busan sky. For a moment, he wanted to return back to his hometown. But it was only for a moment. An insignificant amount of time.

Still, he didn’t stop himself from looking at his hometown. The place he had grown up, had shaped him, had birthed him. In a way, he was sad to leave but he promised himself a fresh start. 

Taking deep breaths, Daniel played with a soft golden lion plush toy. He smiled at its whiskery muzzle, heart throbbing in the best way possible.

Finally, he clipped it onto the zipper of his backpack.

Daniel had a crown now. He had a branding now. He wasn’t a skinny kid running around the dark alleys of Busan, he was a man made for Seoul.

Still, he decided that there was no harm in bringing a treasured part of his Busan life to Seoul. There would always be a dash of that Busan boy in him. Everything that happened there, a year ago, a decade ago, were all parts of his life that he kept close to his heart, and no amount of moving would help that.

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Always Waiting: The Cost of Never Being Done

Hi all,

I kept waiting for a time when I felt like I had time and energy to write and...surprise! It turns out that's not just around the corner when you have a chronic illness and are still working full time (not to mention trying to keep up a social life and maintain all your relationships). But I figure some information is better than none at all, so I'll get through what I can. 

You all remember (I think) that I went to Dana-Farber after my December CT scans showed significant growth of my primary tumor despite the metastatic sites holding steady. I came out of that meeting with two recommendations for clinical trials. One--my top pick--was being run out of Massachusetts General Hospital and Dana-Farber and involved an antibody-drug conjugate (IMMU-132) that has been shown to be super effective for triple-negative breast cancer but which got held up at the FDA approval stage. Doctors are pretty frustrated that the approval is still pending and that the only way to use it is on a trial, but there's hope that it might get approved in the next 6-9 months. The other is being run out of UPenn by the same doctor whose study I was on before and who I really like. It looks at the effect of chemo + an immunological agent vs. just chemo.

There were several reasons to prefer the MGH study (even though it would have necessitated traveling to Boston during the coldest months of the year), among them that I wouldn't have to endure chemotherapy as part of the trial. And it looked for a while as though I was going to be able to join it. It wasn't actively enrolling but there was a spot. I waited, in the days right before Christmas, to hear. And my doctors all worked hard, calling the PI and discussing the option of enrollment at either location. But it didn't work out. Another patient made exactly the same call I would have made--and I cannot fault them for that--and I am several places down on the waiting list. Spots open up when people leave the study, so presumably when their disease worsens or a better treatment option opens up. It only happens every couple of months. Doing the math, it seemed more likely that the drug would get approved by the FDA than that I would get to enroll.

I was pretty angry. And it was hard because there was no single person to be angry at. Not at my doctors, all of whom knew my preference, did all they could, and gave sincere apologies when it didn't work out. And not at the other patient who took the chance that I so hoped I'd be given. If anything, I was angry at the FDA for not approving the drug faster, or at whoever was funding the study for not allowing there to be more than 68 patients on it at any given time. The fact that groundbreaking, life-saving medical research is also a business constantly makes me angry. Sometimes it works in my favor (IMMU-132 will likely get fast-tracked on its second go through the FDA because someone will make money) and sometimes it doesn't (why fund more spots than you need on a clinical trial just because people want to be in it?).

So then there was more waiting. So much of having Stage 4 cancer is a waiting game. Waiting for promising new research directions. Waiting for that research to get funded. Waiting for those studies to enroll and complete. Waiting for FDA approval. Waiting for insurance approval. And, the biggest one by far, waiting to see if it works.

I was home for the holidays, not meant to see an oncologist until mid-January. A third option was proposed, which was staying on the study I had been doing with the PARP inhibitors but first doing a short course of radiation on the breast tumor. When I got home at New Year's I booked in to a radiology consultation, even though I felt a suspicion that it wasn't the best option. (Several oncologists told me that if the PARP inhibitors had stopped working on the initial tumor it was only a matter of time--and likely not much of it--before they stopped working on the metastatic sites too.) After spending nearly an hour with yet another very helpful doctor who had studied the whole history of my case (and a little bit of my research, once I told him what to Google) I saw that I was right. A tumor this size, he said, would only benefit from a pretty lengthy radiation course and we only had a grace period of 2 weeks for me to get back on the PARP study. He reminded me that it would be an option later and wishes me luck.

I'd like to pause here to do something I haven't done before and ask you all a favor. I understand exactly why this happens but please, to help me out, don't ask anymore about why I am not (yet) having surgery or radiation on the tumor. Yes, the primary tumor is the biggest and nastiest and pains me every day. You can be sure I'm also asking that question of my doctors, not only when there's a treatment change but when I tell them that it's hurting me. I know that it seems simplest to just cut it out (even if this means altering my body in a way that I am not eager to do) or try to shrink it. And I know that's why people ask. All the time. ALL the time. Unfortunately, it leaves me feeling defensive--do they not know that I have thought of this option every single day as I carry around the painful, swollen weight of a 6cm tumor?--and like I have to justify my decision. I imagine one or both those things will happen immediately. I have many (medical) reasons for not doing them yet. When I decide to do them, you will know and I will tell you more about why. But it would make me feel a lot better if I knew people weren't going to keep asking. Thank you.

Ok, back to what happened one I decided that radiation was out. Essentially, last week I officially consented to the study that's at Penn and that involves chemo. My first session will be on January 30th. I'll be going every 3 weeks. The agent I'm receiving is one of the oldest (carboplatin) and will be given in a higher dosage than when I went every week. This means it's likely to make me sicker. (The doctors did say that I'd feel worst on days 2-5 and better as the cycle wore on.) No one told me that people tolerate this one especially well and, having been so relatively lucky with side effects before, my worst-case-scenario brain assumes my luck will now be bad and that I will really struggle, lose all my hair, not be able to work, etc. Unhelpfully, although they can speak in averages, no one can predict how anyone will react to chemo. So just...wait. As usual.

To join the study, of course, there are a great many hoops all of which involve trips to Philly. I had a biopsy yesterday (Wednesday) and am spending tomorrow (Friday) getting CT and bone scans. There was an ongoing fight with my insurance company today when I got a phone call first thing in the morning telling me that they had canceled tomorrow's CTs because I didn't have authorization. Without authorization, no CT. Without a CT, no joining the study. Without joining the study, no starting chemo on time (lots of rearranging of my work and ride/support schedule). Lucky for me, my doctor's office was the one to do the calling and arguing. But it's frankly absurd to deny authorization for a CT scan to a documented Stage 4 cancer patient. I cannot even imagine what further information they would need for that one. And if I hadn't been joining a trial there would have been no rush and, likely, I would have been the one calling. The amount of admin involved in being chronically ill is frankly staggering. The end result, luckily, is that I am going in tomorrow.

And that's why I must get to bed. I know I make it sound like swinging by the hospital for a biopsy is no big deal - it's an outpatient procedure with only local anesthetic! I ate Shake Shack afterwards and went to work today! But, in fact, it's stressful to the body as well as the spirit to be on an operating table, numbed up with local anesthetic, and pierced in the lymph node or breast by an ultrasound-guided needle ten times (because you are doing so many studies and they all need research samples). The scans tomorrow will be easier - all I have to do is not eat beforehand, drink barium, lie in an x-ray contraption while having contrast dye injected through the port that's plumbed into my artery...then take a break before being injected with a radioactive tracer that will infuse my bones for a couple hours until I lie perfectly still and have them imaged. Easy, right?

I like to say that this stuff is no big deal--that it's just a lot of waiting in different places. And that's true, to an extent. The CTs don't hurt and they aren't physically demanding (although I'm not great at drinking that much barium milkshake that fast). The bone scan is kind of cool and I plan to wear my "Biohazard" t-shirt. But my normalization of the massive apparatus surrounding being ill and my incorporation of it into my everyday life does, I think, minimize the physical as well as emotional toll I pay each time I have a test or treatment. Not only are those reminders of the insidious disease that has taken so much of my life from my control--I'm not even thinking about that consciously most of the time--it's just all so relentless. There's always another call to make, appointment to keep, symptom to track, bill to pay, person to text or call. I am never, ever done.

On that last item, I do often feel burdened with guilt. I want support, but don't feel that I can always pay it back in the form of updates or thanks to those who so generously give it. But I do hope you all know that I'm here, appreciating each and every piece of it that I get. Social media may not be great for some things but it is wonderful for the small kindnesses that can buoy me up on a tougher day. This has been one, so I'm off to bed. But I send you gratitude and love.

Bex

[bellphilip91]

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[bangtan-babe]

Letting Go [part 3/final]

-----“What if we were soulmates who just met at the wrong time?”-------

Characters: Namjoon x reader/ Jimin x reader

Summary: As a doctor, you’re never supposed to get emotionally attached to your patients but you find yourself unable to forget Namjoon.

Length: 3.5k

Genre: Angst/ Fluff

part 1. part 2. part 3 

You found yourself detached from your physical body. The aching pain that you felt in your chest was intensifying and consuming you entirely. You ran down the hallway trying to make it to something that you had no control over. Because after all, you couldn’t fix Namjoon. No one could. But there was something inside of you that didn’t want to give up on that last bit of hope. The hope that he would somehow survive and be healthy.

You slammed open the doors of the pre-op room, roaming to find some answers. All of a sudden, two arms gripped your shoulders tightly. It was Dr. Park. “Y/N, you shouldn’t be here,” he advised. Your eyes jumped from him to the operation room. Namjoon was in there fighting for his life and you needed to find a way to help him.

“Let me go,” you demanded trying to shake his hold on you. But Dr. Park didn’t move. He held on and locked his eyes with yours. As you glanced at him, you saw he wasn’t being aggressive but rather his expression was soft and understanding. You opened your mouth to say something but no words came out. Dr. Park noticed your unsteady expression and loosened his grip. “Dr. Jeon is in there right now. He’s the best general surgeon at the hospital. Namjoon is in good hands.,” Dr. Park explained.

“Jimin..you don’t understand,” you tried to say, before realizing you were calling Dr. Park by his first name. For a second you saw his eyes light up. Yet you couldn’t focus on his bright expression given the uneasiness you were feeling. Part of you wanted to let Jimin know that Namjoon wasn’t just a patient to you, that he mattered to you more than you wanted to admit. But those words were stuck in your head. You knew that the minute you said them, your reputation as a doctor would be ruined.

He looked down at you trying to meet your gaze. “Y/N it’s okay, I know..We’ve all been there at some point. We form connections with our patients and when they’re gone we blame ourselves. But it’s never your fault. Remember that,” Jimin pleaded.

But how couldn’t you blame yourself? If you had treated him as a patient maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation. “I could have done something. I should have helped him more,” you thought out loud. Jimin let out a sigh.

“Cancer is not something that can be stopped that easily. If it was..then millions of people wouldn’t die from it so often. You’re being too hard on yourself,” he spoke. His voice was reassuring and soothing. It comforted you for a second but then your mind went blank because you thought about Namjoon. The emotions you were trying to withhold burst.

“Of course I’m being hard on myself! I failed him as a doctor!” you yelled while throwing your arms in the air. “I failed him,” you muttered again as a knot formed in your throat. You turned your back to Jimin and wiped the tears that ran down your cheek. You bit your lip trying to hold back any more tears and cleared your throat before turning around. “I’m sorry..I just feel that I could have done more. I should have given him a stronger dosage or more rounds of chemo or-” Dr. Park interrupted you. “Y/N. There is nothing more you could have done. His tumor spread faster than anyone expected. Even with more chemo, the most it could have done was give him a few more days,” he explained.

“Yeah! A few days! That would have meant everything to him,” you stated with a sadness in your voice as you realized the possibility of a few more days with Namjoon. A few more days to be by his side.

But Dr. Park just shook his head. “He would have been completely drained of energy and emotion. You know how difficult a session of chemo is.” You didn’t say anything because you knew he was right. Chemotherapy was one of the worst and best things that came with the difficulties that cancer brought. For many patients, chemo saved their lives. But for others, it added to the suffering of what was already inevitable. Maybe for Namjoon it was the ladder. You shut your eyes at the possibility of losing him.

“How bad is it? Can they still save him?” you questioned Dr. Park. He just looked down and folded his hands together. It was clear what he wanted to say.

“Dr. Jeon is trying his best...,” he finally spoke.

“Well tell him to try harder,” you gritted your teeth. At this point, you didn’t even care that you were talking about a superior in that way. Jimin also seemed to understand because while he did raise an eyebrow at your tone, his expression softened once he noticed how sad you looked.

“I know you care about him,” he mentioned slightly pitching his voice at the word care. You rose an eyebrow wondering if he was trying to hint at the close relationship Namjoon and you had.

“You knew?” you questioned curiously. He nodded his head and stuffed his hands into his black jeans that were hidden under his white lab coat.

 “Why didn’t you yell at me or say anything?” you wondered.

“I don’t know..I thought you would get over it eventually,” Jimin explained as he lowered his voice slightly. 

You stood there stunned without saying a word. He spoke up again. “I would see you come out of his room sometimes and you looked so happy. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

“Even though you knew it wasn’t right?” you finally asked.

“Yeah....but if that’s how you felt about him then I don’t think I had a right to stop that,” Jimin mentioned sadly. You saw from how he lowered his eyes that he was definitely hurt. But, he didn’t want to showcase that to you.

You looked up at the time clock, it had already been 2 hours. It didn’t seem like they were coming out with good news anytime soon. You brought your attention back to Jimin and didn’t know what to say to him. This whole situation was intense and confusing.

“Why don’t you just give Resident Young your patients for today,” Dr. Park said quietly noticing that you felt uneasy and tired. You lifted your eyes up and nodded your head. “Thanks, Dr. Park,” you mentioned sincerely. And you truly meant it. Park Jimin was horrible at times with his overly obnoxious comments and insane expectations, but in this moment you were thankful that he was there. You were happy that he didn’t scold you for being emotional considering that doctors needed to keep their composure at all time. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just had horrible tendencies. Somehow you felt sad for him, remembering how he had confessed to you just a couple of days ago. You wondered about the possibility of being with Jimin. If things had been different with Namjoon, if you were never assigned to him then maybe something could have happened between you and Dr. Park. But now everything was chaotic; your mind and heart were both overwhelmed with a never ending pain.

-|-  

I’m so dumb. I should have told him how I felt the day we hugged. Who cares if it would have hurt in the end?? I would have been able to share more moments with him. It wouldn’t have ended so abruptly...

You sat on the cold bench in the hallway with your head placed between your knees while your thoughts floated aimlessly in your head. It had been almost 6 hours since Namjoon was taken in for surgery. No one had walked out of that room or into it. The thick air in the hallway enveloped you and you were beginning to feel numb by the coldness. Suddenly, the light above the operating room turned off which signaled that it was over. The surgery was over. Your heart nearly leaped and your legs started moving uncontrollably. You paced back and forth biting on your bottom lip due to the nervousness you were feeling. After a few moments, Dr. Jeon walked out and you ran to his side.

“How is he?” you pleaded desperately to Dr. Jeon who stood in front of you.

“He’s stable for now. We did everything we could, but I don’t think he has much time left,” Dr. Jeon explained sympathetically. You nodded your head trying to process everything that he was saying. After that, he walked down the hallway and you were left alone to deal with your own thoughts. You started to walk back to Namjoon’s room. The nurse on shift told you that he had just arrived. You opened the door to his room slowly, trying to make sure that you were prepared yourself for whatever image you saw. As the door creaked open, you shivered at the sight of him laying there. His eyes were closed and his face was pale as a sheet. He had a big blanket tugging his body. His nose was covered by an oxygen mask which was connected to a monitor. You examined carefully every inch of him and your heart sunk at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered placing your head next to Namjoon’s. “I’m sorry.”  You regretted not telling him your true feelings. Before Namjoon went into surgery, he asked you to be honest with him. And you were. You said that you liked him. But those words lacked the sincerity that you wanted to showcase. You felt like you were never open or genuine with him. It killed you inside to think about those things.

A few days passed by and Namjoon was still the same. His vitals were on the low end of normal. He hadn’t shown any improvements, despite the constant monitoring and medicine he was getting. To make it worse, he was still unconscious. Every day, you went in to check on him. You begged for him to open his eyes just once. Yet each day was the same. No movement and no response. Then, a week later, when you went to fix his IV, you noticed that he was beginning to move his fingers. You blinked furiously, wondering if you had just imagined it all. But, you hadn’t. Namjoon was moving his fingers! You jumped up and quickly bent down to see if his eyes were open. As you stared at his clear complexion, you saw that he was slowly beginning to open them.

“Namjoon? Do you know where you are?” you questioned not realizing you were holding his hand. Those words barely made it out of your mouth because you were overwhelmed with emotions. Namjoon nodded his head slowly turning his attention to you. You quickly removed his mask and placed it in the overhead bin. You gave him a kiss on the top of his head because you were thankful that had opened his eyes, even if you knew it was for the last time.

After you backed up, he suddenly started coughing struggling to get the words he wanted to say to you out. “No, no Namjoon it’s fine you don’t have to say anything.” You barely got the words out yourself as you felt like your throat was closing in on itself from the pressure of the tears in your eyes.

“Wo- Would you.” His voice sounds hoarse, and it almost kills you right on the spot.

“Would I what?”

“Would you go.. go get me.. a kit-kat?” He finally makes out the words, smirking weakly in the process.

You scoff. How could he- “Oh my god, are you kidding?” Yet, as you see him laughing to himself, coughing in the process you can’t help but smile as he still remains to be the same Namjoon you cared for all this time. Even in the face of death he still can manage to make jokes.

You smile at him, resting your head on his chest.“God.. Namjoon, I hate you so much.” But you really didn’t. You looked at him meekly repeating those words but hoping that he would interpret them the way that you meant it. “I really, really hate you.” And you tear up.

But he smiles at you anyways, a little red flush beginning to appear on his cheeks miraculously.

“I love you too, Y/N"

You knew that he wouldn’t be able to stay with you for too long. It was clear by the numbers on the screen. As much as your heart begged for him to stick by your side, it was his time to go. And he did. A few days later Namjoon passed away. 

You found yourself going up to his room many times even though it was still vacant. One night as you had fallen asleep on the couch by his empty bed, Nurse Seokjin woke you up from your deep sleep.

“Y/N, I need to give you something,” he mentioned. Confused by his sudden comment, you shot up and followed him out of the room. You noticed that he had a letter in his hand. Seokjin let out a sigh and placed his hand out.

“I found this when I was cleaning Namjoon’s room,” he stated giving you the letter. You were curious but also scared to look inside. The first two words on the page made you shut your eyes abruptly. You were gripping onto the letter so tightly that when you opened your eyes again you saw the page was wrinkled.

Dear Doc,

I know you’re probably wondering why I’m writing this letter. To be completely honest I think this letter is more for myself than it is for you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I couldn’t say these words to you. I guess I’m selfish like that. But bear with me please, you have for this long at least (haha). Anyways, I want to start off by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being an asshole and for making your work life complicated. You’ve been trying your best and I understand that now. I know I should have realized that sooner, but this tumor has made me an idiot. Although, if you’re thinking that I’ve been an idiot all along, tumor or not, I don’t blame you because that’s not entirely false.

 I don’t know when you’ll be reading this letter or if it will even get to you, but I want to ask you to always love. Love whoever and whatever you want. That’s the only way to live, to truly live Y/N.  I know we didn’t have a chance to be together, but I don’t want to see you hold back or be scared anymore. If you like someone...go all in. Give it your all. I know what it’s like to have that chance taken from you, so please don’t stop loving Doc. Please be happy.  

-Namjoon

After every line you read, your throat tightened more. The knot became greater until you could no longer keep your lips steady. As they quivered, so did the streams down your cheek. It felt like you had been crying for hours. You were completely depleted of energy. At the sight of his name written so finely on that piece of paper, your body collapsed. While Seokjin managed to grab you, it still felt like you were completely alone wandering in that empty hallway. Those last few words echoed in your head. Please be happy. But how could you be happy? You were so broken and devastated that you felt like happiness was so far out of your reach. How do you even go back to your life of structure and balance? How are you supposed to find the happiness that he wanted you to achieve? You appreciated his sincerity and attempt to make you feel better but instead, you felt empty and lost. Those words on that paper were merely physical blots of ink that formed a few sentences. He wanted you to be happy and love, but agony had completely taken over your soul. And it was for him. The tears and pain were all for him. So when he said to be happy you found it unbelievable because you couldn’t fathom how you would be able to get over this distress and go on to loving someone else. Your head turned to look at Namjoon’s room where his bed remained. You imagined the hundreds of times he would call you out from that room, his mischievous grin spreading across his face as you walked in there furious. But in a split second that image was gone and all you saw was the white bed sheet. He was far gone. What was left of him was written in black and white and you held it in your hand. You cupped your hands over your eyes and let out a heavy cry. Seokjin comforted you by patting your back. You were thankful but you wondered if it was worth it. If the comfort that people gave you would do anything. You wanted this suffering to end, but at the same time, you didn’t want to forget Namjoon. Part of you was worried that if you did become happier then it would mean forgetting him.

-|-   1 year later

“Ya! Give me back my phone!” you yelled loudly trying to climb over his body.

“I’m just going to take a picture,” he whined obviously showing by his mischievous smirk that he had different intentions. You quirked an eyebrow not buying his excuse. You knew that it was what he did. He loved taking selfies and posting it on your social media. But every time that he did that you felt somewhat happy inside. You were never the one to showcase your relationships online but he was just too good looking to not brag about.

“I have a reputation to uphold you know,” you whined trying to reach over his shoulder for your phone. He kept extending his arm out and typing away. Suddenly his head shot back and he looked at you. His eyes pierced directly into yours.  

“I think that we should finally upload a selfie of us together,” he stated proudly. You quickly backed up processing what he said. It wasn’t like he said to marry him, but for some reason you were hesitant.  

“What...why?” you questioned. His body relaxed and he fell back on the couch. His shoulders slumped down as he looked at the carpet.

“I don’t know...maybe I’m being selfish,” he murmured running his hand through his loose hair. You chuckled at his expression. This was one of the few moments where he was being shy and reserved. He was usually intense and direct. You lay back on the couch resting your head on his shoulder. When you did, your eyes went to a paper that was sticking out of a drawer. You squinted your eyes when you noticed the familiar handwriting. Please be happy. A sudden wave of emotions traveled from your toes to your head. For a second you felt unable to move, almost as if you were paralyzed. Then you were brought back to the current moment when his head rested next to yours. The intense emotions were replaced by a warm feeling that you hadn’t felt in a long time. You felt protected and loved just by a small gesture. You looked up at him and a smile spread across your face.

“Okay. But I get to choose the filter,” you demanded playfully. His eyes light up and he shot back up taking out his phone this time. When you were finally done choosing between the endless selfies that you had taken, he went on his Instagram. On his page, you noticed that he had taken secret photos of you when you weren’t looking. Deep down inside you loved casual photos like that because it showed true emotions and thoughts. Off guard pictures were ones that captured reality. As you scrolled through the photos you saw that your expression had changed over time. You weren’t static and stiff anymore. The latest photo he took was of you smiling as you talked on the phone. Somehow, the smile on your face seemed to emulate your life. You were happy.

Suddenly your eyes widened when you saw his username. “Is your name seriously Jiminthecutie??” you questioned in shock. “Why yes, it is. Why? You got a problem with that Dr. Y/LN,” he questioned playfully. You rolled your eyes at Park Jimin. How on earth did you manage to fall for him? “Definitely not Dr. Park,” you stated sticking your tongue out and stealing his phone this time. The words on the paper Namjoon wrote you a year ago flowed through your mind and you couldn’t help but smile. Thank you Namjoon, for everything

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this small series!! It was originally supposed to be a one shot but after I started to write it, I felt like I should expand it more. I didn’t post the last part right away because I’ve been thinking about the ending for a while. Part of me wanted “you” to end up with Namjoon but I felt like that was also too cliche. I ultimately decided to have Namjoon die because I wanted to showcase that anyone can overcome any pain that they are feeling, whether it’s the love you have for another person or something else. We find our own ways to cope with those feelings and find a way to be happy. (okay that's so cliche too I know hahahah) Anyways I’m sorry if you wanted Namjoon to live :( Butttt who knows maybe I might write an alternate ending version. Thanks again guys!