#to me and loud and agressive and it just. triggers me so fucking much. god. i hate all this. i hate all this

[magnoliamyrrh]

i think that whole "never felt safe growing up and most of my life" thing did real damage to my psyche lmao

[minhoshi]

❅ love for granted

jeon jungkook x gn!reader.

word count: 0,9k? probably more.

genre: slight angst, fluff, idol!jungkook, established relationship au.

trigger/content warnings: cursing, jungkook is kind of a shitty boyfriend but he apologizes, reader's poor mental health lol.

author's note: this one was my first request! uhuuuuul. hope you enjoy, anon.

you were never the kind of person who dealt well with fights or confrontation. you knew how hateful words could never be taken back, even if they were said during meaningless and childishly arguments. and, because of that, you always tried your best to avoid these types of agressive conflicts, preferring to simply talk things out racionally.

since the beginning of your relationship, jungkook had told you about how restless and turbulent his schedule could get sometimes. so, keeping that in mind, you never really told him how much being ditched on date nights, or even on your own birthday dinner party, hurted you. the last thing you wanted was to be selfish and look like the clingy type.

today especially had been a very long day for you, though. all you wanted was to get home and feel the warmth and security of your boyfriend's arms. all you craved for was his affection and attention. but because of the upcoming comeback, you knew that probably wouldn't happen since jungkook had been busier than usual. still, you decided to try to call him, wanting at least to hear his voice. he answered after the fourth time trying.

"...kook? hey, sorry for—"

"y/n, what the hell?" he interrupted you, his voice annoyed and loud. "for fuck's sake, calling four times in a roll? seriously, do you think acting like this is cute? i'm clearly busy right now."

"...wow, uh—" you sighed. your eyes were already fighting tears from the built up frustration, but you chuckled bitterly. "yeah, i don't know what came up with me right now... sorry for disturbing you, kook. trust me, i know how annoying i can be"

jungkook felt his heart drop at your words, and regret filled him immediately. he could notice how hurt you were just by your broken voice. God, what the fuck. what made him think he could talk to you like that?

"no, angel, i'm sorry. it's not your—"

you hung up, not wanting to hear what he had to say anymore. if he was so tired of dealing with your shit, then you should probably just leave, right? that way, you wouldn't bother him any longer. God, you really should've just kept your mouth shut.

jungkook did not want that, though. he was sure of his feelings for you, and he was sure that he needed you. suddenly, work just seemed fucking worthless for him. how was spending that much time and energy locked in a studio better than going home to you?

he obviously loved his job, but he had already dedicated all of his teen years and so much of his adult life to becoming a successful idol, that now he couldn't help but notice that all the money and fame he had conquered could never replace the love he had been neglecting from everyone in his personal life, including you. that realization was enough for him to get up and just abandon the meeting without further explanation, leaving behind the rest of the bangtan boys and staff confused.

when he got to your apartment, the whole place was dark. he knew you weren't asleep. your anxiety would never let you rest after a fight. your head had the need to overthink every single detail and spoken words, and that always left you very neurotic and troubled – that's why he was sure that coming over to talk was the best alternative.

he entered your room to find you curled up on your bed, obviously trying hard to make yourself small and stop shaking. knowing that he was the one making you feel that way made jungkook nauseous with guilt.

sitting beside you, he stroked your back and hair softly with his fingers, desperate to see your face.

"y/n...?" he whispered. "angel, i'm here. can we please talk?"

you didn't answer with words, but your uneasy breathing from crying so much earlier and the way you tightened your grip around your legs even more were enough reasons for him to get closer to you.

jungkook laid down on the bed, hugging your figure and leaving several sweet pecks over your soft skin. he didn't even know how to start apologizing.

"i know that the way i have been treating you lately has no excuse, but i need you to know that i am genuinely sorry, y/n." he breathed. "i'm so fucking sorry."

just like that you were sobbing again. your emotions were already all over the place because of your shitty week, and getting home only to discuss with your boyfriend was too much for your tired emotional state to handle.

you turned around and buried your face on his neck. jungkook held the back of your head, hugging your body tightly against his while pressing soft pecks on your temple.

"i love you, y/n. so fucking much it hurts. you're my baby." he whispered. "i promise you that i will never act like such an asshole again. i won't let you doubt my love for you ever again. okay?"

you nodded at him. you knew he was sincere with his apology, he wasn't one to say empty words.

"just please don't think i don't support your career, kook." you looked up at him with red teary eyes. "you don't have to choose between me and doing what you love. you make me so proud every day. all i want is for you to be happy."

"i could never think like that, angel." he smiled softly and pecked your forehead again. "you are the one that makes me insanely happy every day. i'm so thankful for your love. i won't take it for granted."

ask is always open!

[crutchie-with-a-y]

Can I got some tomeo? Tommy boy x romeo

yes! the last one i did for tomeo was newsies era so I’ll do this one modern, you can find that one here. i will def write for tomeo more if y’all are liking it…

Tommy Boy popped an Advil in his mouth and dry swallowed, his head pounding. 

“Jesus.” He staggered into his aparment kitchen and turned on the lights, only to turn them off when they blinded him and sent stabbing pains through his skull. He threw some cabinets open and smacked some things around, eventually starting a pot of coffee. He groaned and leaned his head against the counter while it brewed. He felt awful, as per usual when he was hungover, but this hangover hadn’t even been worth it. He’d had a pretty shitty night too. After an intense breakup a month ago, he thought he had finally gotten his life back together, and then low-and-behold when he dropped by a local bar to say hello to a friend who worked there, who did he see? His ex, cuddling and kissing with someone they had told him was “just a friend.” This painful night had lead to way too many rounds, and then walking home in the cold to drink another couple beers. And sob his heart out. 

Tommy Boy’s painful memories were interupted by the ding of the coffee machine, even that light bell being too much for his head. He straightened up, rubbing his eyes and stepping back against the wall, only to be met with a knock at his door that felt like someone detonated a bomb in his head. He groaned again and staggered to the door, expecting to open it to a Girl Scout with a shrill voice trying to sell him cookies. Was it even that time of the year? Or maybe a couple of Mormans, who would try to convince him to come to a serive. He didn’t know who it was, all he knew is he wanted them to go away. He opened the door to a shorter man, with a big smile that scrunched his nose and made his eyes twinkle. Tommy Boy’s heart leapt into his throat. 

“Romeo?” He squinted in shock. “What the hell are you doing here?” Romeo chuckled. 

“You were that drunk, huh?” Romeo put his hands on his hips, grocery bags hanging off his wrists. 

“What?” Tommy Boy stared at him blankly.

“You called me last night drunk-crying, but I couldn’t understand what you were saying so I said I’d come over tommorrow and make breakfast.” 

“Oh.” Tommy Boy bit his lip. I’m such an idiot, he thought. But that was so nice of Romeo. Then again, Romeo was always very kind. “Well, um, you don’t have to-” 

“I don’t care,” Romeo pushed past him into the kitchen, plopping his bags on the counter and taking out several boxes and cartons and jamming somethings into the fridge. “I’ve been violently craving pancakes all week and this gives me an excuse to make them.” 

“Oh, well.” Tommy Boy ducked into his bathroom to run his fingers through his hair and swish around some mouth wash against his stained teeth. God, I look disgusting, he thought, if only he’d remembered he was coming. “If you’ve been craving them…” 

“Exactly.” Romeo banged around in the cabinets and pulled down a few bowls. “Now, you talk me through what is going on while I cook.” He poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to Tommy Boy as he stepped back into the kitchen, knowing he liked it just black, with no cream or sugar. Tommy Boy smiled and took his mug over to the kitchen bar and sat down on a barstool, leaning foward on his elbows and warming his hands with his coffee. There was no use arguing with Romeo. When he decided he was doing something, he did it, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. 

“Well,” Tommy Boy started, slightly embarassed. “I went over to Mack’s after work yesterday, to say hi to Casedy, she just started working there.” 

“Oh my god, really? Casedy Stevens?” Romeo asked, folding up a grocery bag. Tommy Boy nodded and Romeo waved at him. “Continue, apologies for interupting.”

“No worries. So, I went to see her, and when I walk in there, I see fucking Sam.”

“Not fucking Sam!” Romeo complained as he turned dumped flour into a bowl. 

“With! With that asshole Tod, who Sam said was ‘just a friend.’“ Tommy Boy added, hardly able to believe it himself. 

“WITH THAT ASSHOLE TOD?” Romeo spun around, his jaw hanging lose dramatically. Tommy Boy chuckled, and it felt good. The last twelve hours had not been very smiley. Romeo could always make him laugh.

“Yeah. And it wouldn’t bother me at all, well it would, but it’s their choice and it’s none of my buisness, and I would want them to be happy, so I would just shut up, ya know?”

“You are a good person, I know that.” Romeo nodded, cracking eggs. Tommy Boy blushed, despite the fact it was much of a compliment. 

“But! Literally the reason we broke up was because I asked Sam about Tod. I had noticed they were really flirty and affectionate and hung out a lot, so I genuinely asked, ‘Do you like him? Are you guys a thing, because I will get out of the way if you say so.’“ 

“The right thing to say.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy Boy took a sip of his coffee. “But Sam got super mad at me for even asking, and we kept fighting about it until they dumped me. And it all just like.” He took a deep breah, feeling his eyes start to water. “Sucks. I thought I had everything together. I was even planning on asking someone else out, and now I just feel…” Romeo turned to look at him, leaning against the counter with one hand and holding his coffee in the other. 

“Like shit?” 

“Yeah,” Tommy Boy smiled sadly, a tear sliding slowly down his cheek. Romeo rushed over and wrapped his arms around him, causing butterflies to begin flapping their wings in his stomach through his tears. 

“Hey,” Romeo brushed a tear off of his friend’s face and smiled at him. “It’s going to be okay. It’s okay to feel like shit.”

“Oh good.” Tommy Boy rolled his eyes sarcastically, and felt like a jerk immediately afterward. Romeo pulled back and grabbed his shoulders so he had to look him in the eye. 

“Hey! I meant it’s okay to feel like shit now. It’s okay to take a day to cry and listen to sad songs and not do much of anything. Everything will feel better soon, I promise. But until then, it’s okay to take a day for ya heart.” Romeo winked, and Tommy Boy could barely breathe. His face was so close. And he was so sweet. And that little bit of flour streaked on his cheek was adorable… “Alright?” Romeo raised an eyebrow. Tommy Boy shook his head and nodded, blinking away the tears that clung to his eyelashes, and hoping the boy in front of him wouldn’t notice how red his ears were.  

“Good. Now, what do you want in these pancakes? I got blueberries and chocolate chips.” Romeo spun around and marched back into the kitchen. 

“Uh, blueberries sound good…thank you, Romeo. For, uh, everything.” Tommy Boy rubbed his knuckles awkwardly. 

“Don’t mention it.” Romeo clicked on the stove and set a pan on top, dropping a bit of butter onto it before begining to scoop batter. Tommy Boy watched him. He loved watching him. He always had. He liked watching him talk, write, walk, laugh, everything he did was fascinating. Back in high school, he remembered, he liked to watch him at choir concerts, where he would make silly faces to jazz up the rather boring songs. Romeo had always been like that, making everything more fun or less dreary. It was one of the many things he liked about him. To be fair, he liked everything about him. Tommy Boy had a huge crush on Romeo for so long, and he knew the real reason he had gone out with Sam was to get over how devastated he was when Romeo went out with someone else, though that relationship had ended long before he and Sam’s. Yes, Tommy Boy had always had a special place in his heart for Romeo, and as he watched him flip pancakes and blabber about how much blueberries cost, he realized it never really went away. 

“Here ya go,” Romeo slid a plate stacked with a couple pancakes across the counter to him. “First round.” He walked back over the the fridge and bent down a bit to grab maple syrup from a shelf. Tommy Boy stood up, walking quickly towards him before he lost his nerve. When Romeo turned around, Tommy Boy was standing directly behind him. 

“Um, hi.” Romeo’s eyes went wide and he clutched the syrup bottle a little tighter. Tommy Boy looked him over. The way his brown hair fell slightly in his face, the long, the dark lashes that fanned his bright eyes, and the thin lips that were at this moment pressed together. Tommy Boy grabbed his shoulders, pulled him closer to him, and, before he could think twice, pressed his lips against Romeo’s. Romeo had just lightly began to kiss back when Tommy Boy had to pull away to breathe. 

“I’m, uh, glad you enjoyed the pancakes.” Romeo said, blushing. Tommy Boy laughed. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just.” There was so much he wanted to say, but it was so hard to put it into words. “You’re just so sweet coming over here for me, and listening to me, and you’re so cute and silly and-and….you were the person I was going to ask out.” There was a loud thud when Romeo dropped the maple syrup on the floor, almost has loud as Tommy Boy’s heart, pounding in his ears as Romeo slid his hands into his hair and kissed him passionately. 

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,” The wonderul moment was interupted when the smoke alarm went off, triggered by a burning pancake. Romeo pulled away quickly, ripping the pan off the stove as Tommy Boy fanned the smoke alarm with a towel 

“Well,” Romeo turned around, only to see Tommy Boy looking at his feet, which were covered in syrup. “Oh my god.” 

“The bottle fucking exploded when you dropped it.” Tommy laughed, pointing at the splatters all over the floor. 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a good kisser, this wouldn’t have happened!” Romeo joked, grabbing a rag from the edge of the sink and dropping to his knees to clean up. 

“Well, excuse me!” Tommy Boy said dramatically, bending down to help. “Ya know, gotta say I’m really loving Tod right now.” 

“Why’s that?” Romeo raised an eyebrow as he scrubbed the floor agressively.

“Because if they hadn’t been more than friends I wouldn’t have gotten to be more than a friend to you today.” 

[rohobi]

Pulse 04 | (m)

Kim Taehyung | Medical AU |  Smut | Angst | Trauma | Patient death | Medical Jargon | Medical Inaccuracies | Mature Content | Multi-fandom Medical Team |  Warning: Mentions of anxiety, violence, trauma and blood, death, dying, cardiac arrests. Do not read this if you are triggered by those. Look after you. 

Wordcount: 9k; I got ahead of myself editing. Shout out to my eternal love @blushoseoks for being my beta and biggest supporter. I’ll do shout outs every chapter from now on :)  LISTEN ▶

CHAPTER SUMMARY: ❝ Save me, I need your love before I fall. Love at first emergency trauma.❞

↳ INDEX → CHAPTER 5

↣ Hour 1-2 | Post-Explosion

“This is your Emergency Department speaking. There has been a mass casualty event with a total number of expected casualties exceeding current support levels. We are requesting urgent assistance from the following departments: neurosurgery, thoracics, burns and plastics, renal and urology, paediatrics, vascular and orthopaedics, to accommodate the demand for critical care. The first 48 hours are critical, please present to ED immediately and assist, thank you.”

“Taehyung, we need to go!” Yoongi shouts, pulling Taehyung by the lapel of his coat and pushing him through the stairwell doors like a doll. “Get off your fucking phone!”

“They’re saying it’s a terrorist attack?” Taehyung stammers, letting Yoongi pull him into the stairwell. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

His voice echoes off the walls, as Yoongi shouts. “Shut the fuck up Taehyung, we don’t have time for this. Put your phone away and get your fucking stupid fucking head in the game.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now’s not the time to think about anything else but our hospital, okay?”

“Fine.”

Taehyung takes a deep breath. Yoongi was right. It wasn’t the time to talk about this, they needed to move. He shoves his phone back into his pocket but the pictures of fire and smoke tattoo themselves on the back of his eyelids, regardless. And, he moves just that little bit quicker knowing that you might be downstairs right now.

“Have you had something to eat?” Yoongi asks, pulling him down the stairs. “You’re going to need your energy.”

He shakes his head. “I have thankfully, you?”

Yoongi hums his response as he rushes down the stairs. “I’m fine for now, I don’t think we’ll get much time to replenish ourselves so make sure you’re okay and look after yourself. I suspect patients are beginning to roll in downstairs.”

Taehyung nods, following behind Yoongi. “Let’s go.”

They both rush without speaking to each other. Which was easier for Yoongi, his mind was in a dizzying state of panic, he could barely think straight.  He was worried for you, knowing how heroic you try to be sometimes. He was worried for the patients, the ones you’ll no doubt be flooding his department and he was worried the most for Jimin, who had called him briefly in the back of an ambulance.

His phone had cut off mid sentence.

Yoongi’s heart had dropped and he was left screaming into the phone for a response and Sana, Taehyung’s Emergency Nurse nearby, had heard the broken sounds he made while she had packed her dressing table with bandages and saline. It was a moment of weakness for Yoongi, one he wasn't prepared to show anybody.

One that Sana had a front row seat in.

Everybody loses someone and something during these types of ordeals but you’re all in this together, no one will be left alone.

Taehyung begins to run, faster than he’s ever run before. He pants wildly next to Yoongi as they fly down staircases together, pushing through the ground floor white stairwell doors. It’s a sinking feeling of panic and responsibility, one that feels like tar at the bottom of his stomach.  

Yoongi shoves his ID against the wall, they wait until the light turns green before barging through the staff only doors and down the glass walled corridor towards the Emergency Room.

They don’t speak.

They don’t even look at each other.

The pair run again panic running through their blood as it intoxicates and fuels their wildest imaginations. Scenarios flash through his mind, all full of death. He sees it, no matter how hard he tries not to, beneath the starlight, your body charred from fire, broken on impact-

-he clenches his eyes closed tightly, not wanting to think of it, not believing that could ever be  the case. It was impossible, things like that don’t happen in real life.

Not to him.

There were so many things he hadn’t said.

So many things he wanted to explain.  

But the unmistakable sound of an explosion tears through the night sky, and his blood runs cold sparked by the realisation that he might not get the opportunity to tell you them because things that shouldn’t happen in Seoul, are happening.

And fuck, was that a big explosion.

They come to a halt outside the windows as the unmistakable orange light in the distance boils up from the forest.

Another loud sound of the blast follows.

A shiver runs down Taehyung's body.

They stop where they are to look at each other. Eyes full of terror, unspoken panic and worry, both unsure of what to do next. Yoongi is trembling as he looks down at his phone, was Jimin safe? Please be safe.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung says watching his bottom lip quiver as Yoongi looks up at him, sad eyes glistening underneath the bright light. Have they both just lost someone they loved? because at this point in time as the city is pulled apart by fire and smoke, anything was possible.

“Are you okay Yoongi?”

“I’m fine. We’ll be fine. It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay,” Yoongi gulps, trying to convince himself, more-or-less him. Taehyung watches him take off his thin black tie before dumping it into his coat pocket. “I don’t ...I can’t talk about whatever the hell is going on right now. Let’s just follow protocol and try to survive the next 24 hours without hurting someone or worse, ourselves.”

Taehyung says nothing in return. Somehow he’s not so convinced that this will roll over smoothly and resolve within 24 hours, let alone the next 2 hours when patients start crashing into ED.

And he was right.

Everything had happened far too quickly for any ritualized plan to accommodate when the first wave of casualties poured into the emergency department lobby. Oxygen dependent patients were transported first, sent straight to the high dependency unit, rushed down hallways and straight into the General Med ward.

Intubated patients with severe wounds compatible with life were thrown straight into ICU. Orthopaedic patients with broken hips were sent straight up to Taehyung’s ward. It was an organised mess, an artform in itself until the very second it wasn’t.

Because the second wave came in with wounds related to the explosion.

And everything turned to shit.  

All they had to go by now as the ER flooded with injured people, were coloured ribbons triaging people on who were likely to live the most from the injuries they sustained and who clearly, would not.

Across the hall, a nurse screams desperately out for help. “Dr. Taehyung, we need you over here. Vitals are crashing, we need orders!”

And so, he begins to run.

Taehyung has worked long enough in this industry to realise that life is a series of choices. Left or right? Up or down? Should you do this or should you do that? Should I give up happiness for the health of another? Should I stay or should I go?

Life is a series of choices strung together or pulled apart by either good or bad intentions, but for a doctor it’s much more abstruse. Their lives are about making the choices that affect the life and death of others. And, no matter how hard he tries to be omniscient and resilient in emergencies like this, he is still human. And no amount of normalizing the trauma he’s looking at right now, will ever make it not traumatic.

Because for the first time in a long time, Kim Taehyung is so fucking scared and nervous that he doesn’t know what to do.

“Dr. Taehyung!”

“H-he’s unresponsive,” he wipes the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead with the back of his hand. “What's his BP?” he exhales, watching Mena connect another bag of fluids to the patient.  

The nurses rush around him.

“BPs 90/50. Heart rates 110, resps are 26,” she says, pointing down the patient’s body, “Chest has abnormal movement, he looks like a thoracic case.”

Taehyung can’t think straight for multiple reasons but he perseveres, even when he hears the scream from the same nurse earlier rattling his brain. “Dr. Taehyung we need you over here! Please! For God sake, we need your help!”

“Shit,” He nods at her, biting his bottom lip before letting it go. “Grab Dr. Han, he’s the doctor in your team right? because this is definitely a thoracic case and I need to attend to that orthopaedic emergency. Monitor him every 5 minutes, oxygen, pain relief and antibiotics please.”

Mena nods, running over to the nearest thoracic surgeon, Dr. Han. They both rush back over, Dr. Han pats Taehyung’s back. “Where's your team?” he asks and Taehyung shakes his head.

“Sana is suturing. Em’s in redzone. The others are with a hip fracture.”

Dr. Han smirks, “Well, stick to your team Taehyung. I can’t have you in my space all the damn time, I already get too much of it at Mina’s.”

“Convince her to divorce me then. And, I would stick to my own team, if you even tried to stick to yours,” There's a bitter taste swelling in his mouth as he looks at the surgeon in front of him. He was such a fucking jerk. “Look after your team so I don’t have to.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung walks away and down the hallway towards the red zone, where he should’ve been earlier and where he’s being called to now.

“Over here Tae!”

“I’m coming!” he shouts back, now running towards the agressively loud cardiac monitors as they alert to deterioration in status. “What's the issue-

“He’s arresting!” Nurse Em  shouts, immediately jumping on his bed and initiating chest compressions. “Starting CPR.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Taehyung kicks the CPR break at the bottom of the bed, pulling the bed out from the wall while delegating advanced cardiac support roles to each member of staff. “Adrenaline, 10 ml IV go. I’ll intubate, defib now please!”

Taehyung runs to the head of the bed, looking at the empty basket hanging off the wall by the oxygen as everyone rushes around him.

“Fuck,” he shouts, prompting the interest of one of his students, who had been following him. “Younggi, I need an endotracheal tube and a laryngoscope.”

She nods, running as fast as she can to the storage room. Arriving less than a minute later with the intubation equipment box. He smiles at her, as she puts the box on the bedside dresser. “Watch closely because you’ll be doing this for the next one, I am tilting the head back to extend the atlanto-occipital joint. This will align the axes of the mouth, pharynx and trachea.”

The bed dips as a nurse continues chest compressions.

“Alright,” She passes laryngoscope to his gloved hands but he shakes his head, lifting his hand as in to stop. “Suction, please.”

Reaching over to the wall, she turns the unit on, handing him the long suction catheter. “Patients can vomit during resuscitation,” Taehyung sweeps it into his mouth, sucking up vomit before giving it back to Younggi. “Be mindful of that.”

He grabs the laryngoscope, inserting the tip of it into the right side of his mouth before fixing it straight into the vallecula. “And it goes right between the base of his tongue and the epiglottis.”

Taehyung looks down into his mouth, elevating the mandible and visualising the cords. Was it in the right place? Opening his other hand to her, he says without looking at her. “Endotracheal tube, please.”

She passes it to him, slapping it in his open palm.

Taehyung inserts the tube down his throat, and to the right side of the oropharynx before pushing the cuff past his vocal cords. The staff around him, prepare the patient for defibrillation.

Removing the laryngoscope, he hands it back to Younggi. Taemin, another student, hands Taehyung the paddles of the defibrillator while nodding to everyone in the team. The nurse gets off the patient's bed, panting from the CPR she just did.

“Administering shock, everyone get back!” Taehyung shouts, prompting everyone to stand back from the bed. Putting the paddles onto his chest, he shouts out louder. “Shoot!”

They all look back to the cardiac monitor for a change in rhythm before Taehyung leans forward to shock the patient again, and again until his rhythm comes back. Taehyung doesn't know how he does it, he blacks out every time he needs to do CPR but here he is, clear minded. The time calls for it, he assumes.

“He’s back in rhythm doctor, blood pressure is increasing ...he’s responding!” Taemin shouts out happily.

Taehyung sags in relief when he does. “Stabilize him please, monitor vitals, insert an indwelling catheter and take him upstairs to the cath lab stat.”  

The students nod as do the other staff. “On it.”

Medical emergencies can happen at anytime and with little to no warning in the hospital but it’s the perfect place to have one. Taehyung hasn’t had many hands on experiences with cardiac arrests being in orthopaedics but he’s always loved the thrill of matters pertaining to the heart.

“Taehyung! I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU EVERYWHERE YOU BIG IDIOT! I’m really confused and I need you!” Sana shouts, pulling him to her bedside. “This patient came in without assistance, I literally know nothing about him. I think he might be one of the first patients from the second wave and I don't know what to do.”

“He’s unresponsive too?” he wipes the sweat dripping down his forehead with the back of his hand as he reaches over to look into his pupils. How many more pupils will he look at tonight? “What are his vitals looking like? ” he exhales, watching Sana connect another bag of fluids to the patient.

“Not too good at all doc. His haemoglobin is low, I questioned whether we should give him blood but then again ...I don't really know,” she says. Nodding, he grabs his stethoscope, looking over the patient. “You weren’t told anything about his history or anything but where’s he bleeding from then?” he says, looking at the blood seeping into the sheets.

“Here,” ripping open his shirt, bandages cover a hole in his chest. “His chest. I don’t think it’s an arterial bleed but I have a feeling it went straight through an organ.”

“Shit, why didn’t you tell me that first?” He laments, biting his bottom lip before letting it go.

Sana announces beside him as he turns up the volume on the cardiac monitor. “He’s dying, I’m putting a red ribbon on his bed.”  

“Good idea,” Taehyung says, holding his stethoscope over the patient's heart. “Jugular vein distention due to impaired venous return to the heart and I hear muffled heart sounds probably due to fluid buildup inside the pericardium.”

Shit.

Fuck.

Looking at the monitor, he shouts out for a surgical trauma team. “Dr. Yoongi, we have a surgical emergency over here.”

“What?” Yoongi runs over immediately, perspiration dripping down his face. “What is it Tae?”

“It’s pericardial tamponade,” he nods, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck again. “Build up of blood in the pericardium, he’s got all the signs. No other notes on him. We came in knowing nothing.”

“Fucking hell,” he snaps, waving his hand, a trauma team run over, immediately taking the patient out of the yellow zone and straight into theatre. “We’ve got it from here.”

Taehyung and Sana stand side-by-side watching them rush the patient away. It was as if the entire thing happened in less than 5 seconds. “Thanks for that Taehyung. I nearly cried when Dr. Minho left me alone, never leave me like that, you asshole.”

“Stop running away then, you’re my nursing person, how can I possibly save people without you,” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows at her. “Plus, he probably got pulled into theatre so don’t be rude.”

“Communication is key,” she rolls her eyes. “Don’t excuse abandoning your team.”

“You’re right, communication is key. I’ll have a word with him when I see him.”

He closes the cubicle curtains as he leaves. It’s hot, Taehyung feels like a roast potato and he’s sweating, really badly sweating through his scrubs and he feels disgusting. He’s about to head into Yoongi’s office to steal his other coat but the shrivelled sound of his name being shouted across the floor, stops him.  

“Dr. Taehyung, we need you!”

He groans, pouting as he reluctantly rushes over to the cubical. “What’s the problem now?” Looking at the patient, he swings straight into action.

Tears were beginning to sting his eyes as he moved from patient to patient. As he sutured, as he assessed as he touched abdomens and legs, assessed fractures and looked at x-rays. He was a machine, running on adrenaline and pure concern for your safety.

Where were you?

Why weren’t you here?

Were you hurt?

Are you alive?

And it all happens too quickly to process how one can simply walk back into ones life as if nothing had even happened at all.  It all happens so quickly that Taehyung is caught completely off guard, shocked at your sudden arrival back into his life. He’s struck by the memories as they flood into his pounding heart and every corner of his brain, and for a long moment of time, he forgets where he even is. 

But for you? the experience is vastly different. The wounds you sustained in your heart have scabbed over into a hard wall protecting you from peoples bullshit, you aren’t the same soft bitch you were back then. Taehyung lied to you and your brain had processed the dishonesty as a painful reminder that you were not worth the truth to him. It was an ugly thought that festered into your soul, gnawed it’s teeth into your memories and killed the sunflowers blooming in your heart.

But who really needs sunflowers anyway when you’ve already got the sun.

Lifting your bottom off the patients lap, you put all your weight onto your knees as you continue chest compressions while they pull you out of the back of the ambulance. Jungkook moves out of the way, holding his broken arm as Seokjin and a pair of medical students push the stretcher out of the bay and through the automatic emergency department doors.

It’s tense.

Every inch they move you, the buzzing in your ear gets painfully louder. As a result, your counting out loudly, practically shouting to your team as Jimin runs beside the stretcher. “14, 15, 16….” 

“To the right!” a student says, enabling Jin to push you down the right white hallways. “How many people will we need for this?” he asks.

“As many as you want,” you shout, sweat dripping down your face. “Anyone who will help, I feel faint so let’s do this quickly please.”

“We’re almost there,” he reassures you, pushing you a little quicker on the stretcher. Patients with green ribbons wrapped around their arms, sitting on each side of the hallway, look up, moving out of the way for you, whispering among themselves.

People hold up phones, filming your ascent into the hospital.

Others simply gasp, following your every movement.

You are not surprised.

Nurses look startled as you pass and you can’t blame them. Your face is covered in soot and blood, and you’re doing CPR on a man with an entourage of 9 in your wake. The lights get brighter as you reach the hub of the Emergency Department but you have no time to look at the scenery because he’s still coding and as the minutes go by and no other doctor approaches, so does his chances of survival.

You look around the room for anyone running to your aid, no one does, so you scream. “I NEED HELP OVER HERE!”

Taehyung looks up to the sound of your voice, panicked and strained as he trips over a dressing table while staring at you. It’s contents spill across the floor but he can’t keep his eyes off of you enough to care.

You’re alive and it’s so like you to make an incredibly dramatic entrance.            

“Taehyung,” Sana waves her hand in front of his face as she helps him up. “Are you on crack or something, why are you so out of it?”

“Where do we go?” you shout.  Doctors look up from their clipboards, nurses begin their hustle to run towards you.  The entire department watches you, patients suddenly transfixed by your entrance. “We need a bed!” you shout impossibly louder, a small brunette runs over, pointing to an empty cubicle.

Yoongi runs out from his office. “Over there, go, we have doctors waiting to assist. Are you hurt?” 

You don’t answer.

Sweat drips through the dirt on your face.  

“She is,” Jungkook offers from behind you. “We were too close for comfort back there, all of us have some kind of injury.”

Yoongi immediately looks over Jimin. “Thanks for letting me know, you should go and get treated Jungkook. Anyone with fucking eyes knows your dumbass did something noble again and got your arm broken. 

“What?” Jungkook says, you can feel an argument about to perspire between the two again. “What did you just say?”

“Knowing you, I know you did something so piss off and get your arm treated.”

“No, I’m going to help Y/N, she needs help-

“GUYS, THERE'S MORE PRESSING ISSUES RIGHT NOW! YOU CAN MAKE OUT LATER. GET ME IN THE CUBICAL.”

Seokjin pushes you towards the empty cubicle and sweaty strands of hair fall in front of your face as you focus on compressions. The bed halts against the wall, people buzz around you, quick to provide advanced cardiac support.

“What happened?” a young doctor asks, and Jimin speaks up, relaying off everything he knew as the bedside rails are taken down. Sana connects Jimin’s ambu bag with oxygen, before pulling the resus trolley to the end of the bed.

Taehyung stands beside you, in shock as he looks over your appearance. There's a fresh patch of blood on the back of your coat, your hair is in a tangled floppy mess as loose strands covered your face and your scrubs couldn’t possibly get any dirtier. He’s wide eyed as an unspoken terror rips through him. Were you stuck in the hospital?

“Where’s the defib, we need to shock him now!” you shout, looking in every direction but at Taehyung, having not noticed he was even there.  

His hands shake at his side as he watches everything play out as though he wasn’t even in the room. Your white coat is covered in blood and all of you look like a mess. What happened?

“Are you going to help?” Sana asks him, drawing up amiodarone and adrenaline beside him. He falters as she hangs up a bag of glucose and saline on the hook of the trolley, leaving the medication on the trolley. “Taehyung?” 

He stands there, unable to move as the shock of seeing you rolls over him like wave full of razor blades. “Y/N…” 

“What are you even saying? God, get your head in the game,” she stammers, rushing beside you to set up the defib pads on the patient. “Setting up the pads now, keep compressing doctor. The machine is going to analyse his heart rhythm.”

“Get down from there Y/N,” Yoongi instructs, voice quivering as he shoves Taehyung into the curtain. “Aja, get on compressions after shock delivery. Administrate the adrenaline Sana,” looking at Jimin at the foot of the bed, Yoongi smiles thankfully. “Baby, I’m glad your safe and all but stay at the head of the bed on those resps and you watch me.”

They all follow his orders quickly. 

Jimin nods at him. His eyes are glistening with tears as he stares at the two people who matter the most to him, both okay. “Sorry to worry you Yoongi, it was a close one back there.”  

Standing in front of Jimin, despite everything, Yoongi leans forward to kiss his forehead. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

Jimin smiles at him. “Me too.”

“I’m getting down now. That’s my daily exercise done,” you shout, lifting your hands off the patient and clambering off the bed. Whoever put the bedrails down, didn’t click it correctly into place so as you go to get off, your foot gets stuck in between the bars, causing you’re unstable descent to the floor. “Woah- 

Taehyung moves forward quick enough to catch you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you sag against his chest. It was the only thing he had been able to do since you arrived, let alone act like a normal person and think like a doctor. The feeling is so familiar to him that he wants to bathe in it, it’s so familiar it hurts.

You feel his pounding heart against your back and then, you ignore him, thinking it to be Irene as you stand up straight. “God, I nearly broke myself. Thank you for that.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything as he lets you go and stands back.

You don’t recognise him?

“Right, Yoongi, he has no allergies that we know of,” Leaning forward, you rip open the rest of the patients shirt. Jungkook stays at the foot of the bed. “His medical history is a bit complex….”

Yoongi stands beside you listening to Jungkook and Taehyung falls to the side of the curtain to watch. Grabbing the defib, you hold the paddles to the patients chest. “Everyone stand clear. Shoot!” you shock.

You all look back at the rhythm on the monitor.  

No result.  

The machine continues to analyse his heart rhythm as Aja jumps onto the bed on his knees to do chest compressions. The machine advises a secondary shock. You turn to the defib and turn up the voltage, holding the paddles, you shout. “Everyone move. Administering shock.”

 They all move again.  

 You shock him

Chest compressions start again.

Your vision goes hazy.

And then your knees buck.

Yoongi catches you as you fall to his side. 

You try to stand up again but your guts suddenly churn with lungs full of acid and a mouth full of saliva. Everything around you is moving too quickly with no narrative and the floor feels like it’s tilting. “I think I’m going to throw up, Yoongi can you please continue, I need to have a moment.”

Yoongi nods, grabbing the paddles. “I’m giving you more than a moment, I’ll have my team take over. Go and get treated, you too Irene and Jimin. Get out of my sight.” 

“I’ll stay,” Irene says, looking between you all. “I’m not hurt and I want to ...no, I need to see this through. He has to be okay after everything we’ve gone through tonight.” 

Yoongi nods. “Fine, but go get some rest after this. Go draw up some more adrenaline.” She smiles widely, nodding her head as she runs back to the foot of the bed.

As you walk away with Jimin, Dr. Xiumin wraps his arm around your waist, suddenly steering you towards the ambulance bay. There’s an urgency in his voice that feels like you two are being defibrillated because you throw thoughts of rest away in favour of the trembling favour on the tip of his tongue.

“I need your help,” he says, handing you a cool bottle of water. “Both of your help.”  

“With what?” You and Jimin look over at each other in confusion. “Sure…”

There were many secrets kept at Forest Lakes, that you knew well but what you didn’t know about was the nature of the explosions and that the secret Dr. Xiumin harboured could get you all killed.

“Patients a 64 year old male, hemodynamically unstable with orthopaedic deformity,” Dr. Xiumin announces, pushing the stretcher towards a discrete room in the short stay unit, adjacent to ED. He turns to you, once the bed has been pushed up against the wall. His eyes are serious, hands shaking by his side. “He’s also the congressman and we need utmost discretion with his care.”

You still your body, eyes rushing over to the face you recognise faintly from your past, back then, he was the senator. “The congressman you say?”

He nods.

Stepping close to you, he whispers into your ear. “He was being treated in the VIP ward with other members of congress, Dr. Hoff suspected something wasn’t right ...could barely get a pint of blood in before his vitals crashed and we had to resuscitate him.”

“After we stabilised him, Dr. Hoff had this crazy suspicion that something wasn’t right, people were behaving weirdly, people we had never seen before so he asked that I sedate him and discreetly take him down to ED short stay for further treatment. By the time I got there, I had wheeled him into a chaotic department on Code Black, I haven’t seen Dr. Hoff since.”

The atmosphere is rendered silent by this.

Shooting a concerned sidelong glance to Jimin who had followed you in, you watch him bow his head while clenching his eyes closed. He bites down on his bottom lip to stop the tears from forming in his eyes. Jimin and Dr. Hoff had been close; a relationship akin to father and son.

“You haven’t seen him since you left the ward?” Jimin asks. His voice is muffled and you hear a squall of tears tangled in his throat and when adds, “Do you think he made it out alive?”

Silence.

You look back at the patient.

Dr. Xiumin looks at you. “I don’t need to answer that, you already know Jimin.”

And maybe he does but maybe now’s not the time to believe it.

Holding up the patient's file, Dr. Xiumin paces the room explaining his condition. It becomes clear that he needs more input from specialised doctors. “John Doe is a 64 year old male. Admitted to Forest Lakes today at 19:39 following an apparent car crash on the way to the Blue House. The mechanism of injury is unknown, injuries sustained range from an open fracture of the left radius and closed fracture of the left ulnar, bilateral lung contusion and I think it’s worth exploring whether he has an intracranial bleed.”

Writing on your clipboard, you nod. “Medical history?”

“Has a known history of drug and alcohol abuse, diabetes mellitus type 2 controlled well by oral hypoglycemics, smokes a pack of cigarettes a day. He’s got hypertension too.”

Writing your notes, Jimin takes his vital signs, checking them religiously for a change in status. “Y/N, he’s breathing rapidly, his resps are in the thirties and his oxygen saturations are shot, 78%. I’m putting him on high flow oxygen 15L/min.”

“Please,” you say, doing a head to toe examination of the patient. “Dr. Xiumin, he has unequal chest rise bilaterally with paradoxical movement of the chest wall.”

Walking around the side of his bed, you hold up the white sheet maintaining his dignity as you look at his body. “Upper chest abrasions but from the look of them, no open wounds.”

Rolling the patient on the side with you, Dr. Xiumin smiles. “No posterior injury, thank goodness.”

“Yes but he has reduced air entry and he looks like shit.” you snort, putting the blanket back on the patient. “He has no active bleeding elsewhere from what I see.”

Taking out your pupil torch, you open his eye lids with your finger tips, shining your torch to check for equal reflection of light in his pupils. “His glascow coma scale is pretty shitty but his pupils are good, I’ll still order a CT scan of his brain though, just to be sure.”

He nods. “Good idea.”

“Jimin, can you please hook him up to a litre of IV fluids, just NS 0.9% for now, let’s see if we can lift his blood pressure. I feel uncomfortable with how low it is.” you say, clicking your pen and putting it back into your pocket.

“I’m so glad I found you guys when I did,” Dr. Xiumin says, shifting on his feet beside you. “So, what can I do?”

“Get a pelvic, radius and ulna x-ray, a CT brain and lateral C-spine please. If you’re concerned with the results find the orthopaedic on reg and get him on board, we’ll definitely need his help.”

“I’ll get a portable one,” He smiles at you. “I’ll do that now.”

“Jimin, where's Irene? I need her on this too.” you ask and he turns to you while connecting the bag of fluids to the patient's cannula, making sure not to trip over the line as he walks over to you.

“She’s with our MVA cardiac arrest patient,” he stammers, ripping off his gloves and throwing them in the bin. “He’s been defibbed 10 times now, I think she’s waiting for him to go up to the hospitals lab for catheterisation.”

“Well,” you sigh, opening the door. “She needs to be here, I’ll go grab her. For now, give him some IV morphine and the antibiotics written on his drug chart. Monitor his condition every 5 minutes and I’ll grab Irene to draw some bloods. We need coags, blood chemistry and haemoglobin levels.”  

“I can just do that for us?” Jimin nods, rushing straight into action. “I’ll be quick.”

“Yes, please. Let me know when you get the results.”

“Will do.”  He says, pouting up at you as he pulls out the medication. “Go get Irene though, Forest Lakes staff need to stick together, we’re in enemy's territory right now and all this white is making me uncomfortable.”

Closing the door behind you, you sag against it, taking a deep breath. The weight of responsibility never felt so heavy and your entire body felt like jelly. You knees were trembling and at this rate, if someone were to hand you a scalpel, you’d be the one being cut open, you shook, everywhere.

Walking across the floor, your patient’s stretcher is quickly rushed past you. “LETS GO TEAM!” Doctors run beside him. Their white coats look like clouds in comparison to the raggedy one you’re about to throw out. Faces are covered with white surgical masks as their feet push the patient towards surgery.

You felt like a storm drain with everything continuously pouring in since the explosion, seemingly never stopping. You close your eyes for a second but the bright light still hits the back of your eyelids, making patterns of spangled chaotic colours of red, blue and white dance inside your skull.

It was disorienting, completely and insanely dizzying.

Being a doctor, you were aware of these symptoms. You need to stop and take a break, you’ve just experienced a massive trauma. The anxiety you are feeling is normal, you’d expect it following such an event. You rub over your heart, feeling palpitations ripple through your chest and the telltale signs of an anxiety attack as it forces your eyes back open. You don’t get a good look at the doctors pushing him away because everything looks like you're mixing pink paint with water.

“RUSH HIM BEFORE HE CRASHES, WE NEED AN EKG STAT!” A doctor you don’t know screams. “RUSH HIM TO CARDIO, WE’RE PUTTING HIM UNDER-

The doors close behind them.

His screams turn into muffled hopes of recovery as they get further and further away.  

It is as though time stops for you, when Irene runs towards you, ponytail swishing behind her. Concern is drawn across her face as she rubs your shoulders, and somehow the simple action grounds you. She stares at you with big bright eyes.

You feel relieved.

Smiling at you, she says. “Hey, we brought him back, Dr. Taehyung went against his superiors orders and continued CPR, he didn’t die, we bought him back.”

“Wait, excuse me what did you just say? Who?” Your heart spikes as you look up in alarm. “Dr. Taehyung’s here?”

“He was, he went with the patient to the cath lab,” She smiles innocently, patting the dirt off her white nursing scrubs. “He was the good looking doctor who caught you when you fell getting off the patient. You lucky duck! Living my dream!” She smacks your arm playfully but the feeling of friendly banter doesn’t register as ice grows in your blood.

“Kim Taehyung?”

Blinking at you, she asks. “Why? Do you know him?”

You laugh nervously before shaking your head. “No, not anymore. He was someone I went to school with.”

“Oh.” She frowns, knowing not to press on the piece of personal information you’ve just offered. Irene hasn’t worked with you closely before this but everyone in the department knows about your personality and how closed off you are to your past.

It’s what made you a mystery but Irene knows better than that, you were a strong woman, dominating your field of medicine in a male dominated profession.  

Diluting your art with matters of the heart, would be down right stupid and it would prove all the bearded smirking consultants right. You were a professional who moved like the wind when the need rose with enough force to become a hurricane. Irene respected that.

You still think about it sometimes.

What happened.

You were young back then, you sincerely believed everything you did was disposable, temporary; never meant to stay. Taehyung was different but you drove your own speeding car away from that one, leaving him and memories of him far behind. It hurt and you didn’t want hurt anymore, not when you had the ability to take the pain away.

Somehow you had thought meeting him again would be more dramatic and your heart would be able to point him out in a crowd in an instant. You snort before laughing loudly at the now growing fact that you hadn’t even recognised him, to caught up with your patient.  

Go figure.

“I feel good.” you smile, and she shakes her shoulders cutely at you.

“Do you?”  

You nod. “I’m a good doctor.”

Laughing, she slaps her your shoulder playfully. “Of course you are, you’ve done well. You should seriously look after yourself though. Now that we’re kind of free, do you want to see if there are any doctors to patch us up?”

“Yeah, I was going to ask you that to,” you say, pointing at her cheek. “Your wound doesn’t look deep enough for stitches, maybe just some steri strips for now?”

“I was thinking the same,” looking down at her scrubs, she frowns. “Honestly Y/N, I’m going to kill you if this blood doesn’t come out of my uniform.”

You snort. “Is that what you care about right now?”

“Of course, looks matter too! How else am I supposed to find myself a husband in this hospital?”

Rolling your eyes, you flick her forehead hard. “With your personality and compassion and you don’t need a man!”

“Not yet.” she giggles.

Yoongi walks up to you two with a stern look on his face, immediately throwing his arms around you. He pulls you into his chest tight, tenderly holding you against his smelly sweaty shirt. “I’m so fucking happy to see you, come on, let’s get you treated.”

Pulling out of his embrace, he pulls you and Irene over towards the bed next to Jungkooks. He looks up at you, arm already dressed and hanging up in pillowcase hanging from an IV pole.

“Hey.” he whispers as you gently sit on the bed, embarrassment floods your body when Yoongi closes the curtain and you realise that he’ll have to dig shards of glass out of your ass.

“How you feeling?” you ask him, peeling your coat off and dropping it to the floor. “You good?”

Jungkook sighs, putting his other arm up behind his head. “They gave me pain relief and I definitely won’t be able to practice with my arm like this but that’s fine.”

He watches you gently move onto your side, grimacing at the pain shooting down your leg. “Where are you hurt?” Yoongi asks, sitting on a stool beside you. Irene sits on the stool in Jungkook’s cubicle as a junior doctor attends to her cheek. “There’s a lot of blood here…”

You sigh, gesturing for Jungkook to close the curtain between you. “I have shards of glass in my butt.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Well,” Jungkook laughs behind his curtain. “We all knew you had something up there.”

“Yah.” you shout at Jungkook, holding up your fist at him and Yoongi laughs loudly behind you.

“Hey, can you not encourage him?” You turn and slap Yoongi’s chest. “Shut up, and treat me.”

After her cheek is bandaged, Irene pops through the curtain, standing next to Yoongi as she helps to gently pull down your pants. It stings and you really wish you had done your laundry because the underwear you’re wearing is a $3 thong you bought 3 years ago and it’s ugly.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he whispers, looking at the shards embedded into your skin. “Irene, can you cannulate her and draw up some IV pain relief for her, this is going to be fucking painful.”

“No, don’t do that. Just pull them out,” You say, sinking into the blankets. “If you give me pain relief, I won’t be able to work.”

Yoongi sighs. “Fine, you’re the boss.”

“Jungkook,” you say and he pulls open the curtain as Yoongi begins his extraction. “Talk to me, distract me. Tell me what's going through your mind.”

He glances at you, pink dusting his cheeks. “Thank you,” he whispers, the sincerity in his voice silences your automatic retort. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Did she save your life Jungkookie?” Yoongi asks from behind you. You bite into the pillow as he pours antiseptic all over your butt.

Irene pops out to grab you a pair of new scrub pants.

“She saved my life Yoongi,” Jungkook says, eyes glistening intensely at you. You look away, unable to handle the intense sincerity on his face. “I got locked in the drug room ...and everyone had left me in there and when the first blast went off, I thought I was a dead man. I honestly and earnestly thought, I was going to die.”

Yoongi stays silent.

“I had grabbed a vial of medication, ready to end it all. I didn’t want to die in pain, you know? I had drawn it up and everything and was going to stab myself with it.”

You nod.

“I just kept thinking that if I died, no one would remember me as a good doctor and my family would be so upset about it. I rammed that door so many times but it wouldn’t budge. I had been bolted in.”

Pulling out the first shard of glass, you whimper into the blankets. “I’m so sorry Jungkook,” you whimper. “No one should’ve ever gone through what you did.”

“I screamed so much that it felt like my throat had been ripped raw Y/N, I thought I was going to truly die in there but when you opened the door, it was like taking a breath of air after being in water for too long. In those seconds of seeing you and that door opening, the most indescribable relief I have ever felt washed over me.”

You giggle. “I have that effect on people.” you wink, but it goes straight over him.

“I can’t thank you enough Y/N, I owe you my life,” you watch tears fall down his face. “I promise you that I’ll be different after this, I’ll be a good doctor and you’ll be proud of me.”

Yoongi pulls out the rest of the shards and you wince loudly, gripping onto the sheets. Jungkook wants to lean over and hold your hand through it but you’ve never been the type of girl to need someone else to support you and he has a broken arm, so he doesn’t.

Despite your aching need to be consoled.

Gritting your teeth as he dresses the wounds, Irene walks back through the curtains with a a pair of new pants, a new coat and a tetanus injection for you. “Look, Jungkook. Don’t tell me what you’re going to do, show me. I know you have it in you, just show me.”

“I will,” He nods. “I definitely will.”

Irene stands in front of you, injecting the vaccine into your arm. “Do you feel like this was supposed to happen?” she asks. “I’ve been thinking about it since we got here, but doesn’t it feel like we were supposed to come here?”

Yoongi’s pager goes off as he slaps your butt, you wince, shooting him an aggressive facial expression. Looking down, he clicks through the little black box before checking his phone.

He sighs immediately. “More incoming casualties, they’re closing down the Children's Hospital and all pediatric patients are being sent here. Great, just fucking great.”

Sitting up, you tie your hair back up, pulling all the strands out from your face. “Do we have any paediatric doctors on standby?”

He nods. “We do and we have you too.”

“Lets go, the others probably need help.” you sigh, jumping off the bed to put the fresh new pair of pants on and grabbing a fresh white Seoul Hearts coat from Irene's hands. You pick up your mangled stethoscope from your own coat on the floor before chucking it into the bin.

“Hey,” Yoongi stops you from following him. “Wash your fucking face girl, you look like you’ve been rolling around in dirt.”

“You swear too much Yoongi,” Rolling your eyes, you push his smirking face away. “I do not miss your potty mouth.”

He smiles sincerely at you. “I’m sure that’s not true. I’ll see you in the hub when you’re done, best to get some food in you.”

You salute him before walking towards the staff bathroom. Pushing through its white gender neutral labelled doors, the cold air conditioning hits your face as you walk towards the sink. You don’t look into the mirror yet, in fear of what you might see. So, you sag against the counter, turn the tap on and shove your hands underneath the stream.

You aren’t sure if it’s the relief from the water that you feel rush through you or the systemic relief from being alive. Who knows?

Leaning forward, you scrub your face with the warm water and a dollop of hand wash from the dispenser in front of you. You watch colours of black, brown and red go down the drain as you scrub behind your ears.

It hurts, your body hurts, you feel anxious, your joints feel stiff and your ass is burning and you’re kind of terrified for the next 48 hours but at least you were alive, and unlike any other situation, feeling the aforementioned was a truly good sign.

It’s true what they say about trauma being undeniably agonizing but as you as finally look up and stare at your now clean face, save for the scratches and superficial wounds on your arms, you realise the beauty of it all.

You’re safe.

Turning the tap off, you pull down the sleeves of your coat. You stare at your reflection one last time before pushing off the counter and heading out the bathroom. The next hours are uncertain, anything could happen, especially with Taehyung but there is one thing you are certain about. You are profoundly aware of the extraordinary value of life, happiness and love now that you have faced the possibility of loss.

You wonder how that might come into play when this is all over. Will you still be the same? Or will you realise your own life, happiness and love are important? And that no matter how many times you scrunch up the past like a piece of paper and throw it into the nearest bin, people who are meant to be in your life will always come back and be in your life.

The bathroom door closes behind you as you walk towards the hub of the Emergency Department.

Taehyung stands a couple feet away, throwing his surgical mask and apron into the bin.

You stop, faltering at the sight of him as chaos erupts around you both. He looks up, hands twitching at his side. It’s like time has paused when you both stare at each other for the first time in a long time.

And Taehyung smiles softly at your now clean appearance. “Y/N,” he says, beginning to walk across the room to you. You watch him as he makes four long strides towards you, closing the gap between you two. “It’s been a long time.”

Your heart begins to pound in what you hoped to be muscle memory as you stare blankly at the man. Your lips move and your brain blunders, 

“T-taehyung.”

A/N: If I made you feel things, tell me here