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— let us be normal.
OCTOBER 21: MIN YOONGI
==
"oh my god. oh my god, no, no, no..."
yoongi doesn't know how long he and jeongguk have waited outside in the cold, fingers numb from the evening fog or dulling wounds and exertion (he vaguely hopes it's the former). he doesn't remember what he told jae on the phone, what his mumbled words and her frantic responses were. hell, he can barely recall what's just happened. it takes him one, two, three glances back to wonchol's house to realize his circumstances. and yet, he still can't fully grasp it.
jae's words are a blur as she takes taehyung from jeongguk's shoulders, limp as a sheet of paper. from the way her eyes are sparkling, she's trying her best to keep her rationality. when yoongi turns left, he notices mrs. kim wasn't so successful; thick streams of tears run down her cheeks and a gloved hand covers her face, red and contorted in emotion. it would break yoongi if he was completely in reality right now. he isn't, though. not yet.
yoongi looks to his hands, blotchy and purple and ravaged.
not yet.
"—breathing? he's breathing, right? yes?" jae has a hold of jeongguk's shoulders, bombarding him with a series of questions that the younger looks much too exhausted to completely understand. "oh, god. your temple, you're hurt, so badly, i can't—i can't believe i let this happen, i should have been more careful, i should have come with you—"
yoongi turns to face jeongguk, his face illuminated by the mellow warm light of the nearby lamppost. and from all that caked blood, that bruising on his previously untouched skin, that numb, wrecked expression that feels like a mirror to yoongi's—he sees. he sees that nineteen-year-old college student who took the subway one day and watched his world fall apart, piece by piece, drifting with his sanity. he sees that miserable boy who sat wide-awake in his apartment, alone, wishing for the solace of sleep that the video wouldn't allow him. he sees that lone man in the group, excluded by those he thought he could relate to after days of being lost in confusion because of his misunderstanding of something no one could try and explain.
he sees jeongguk; the one who carried taehyung on his back in the miserable cold despite his aching wounds. the one with a breaking voice and crystal tears. the one who turned back one last time to wonchol, jaw quivering, and mouthed four words:
it was never him.
"oh, yoongi," mrs. kim whispers. "oh, my child. you're so hurt, you're..." she chokes on her tears, gently taking his wounded hands in her fingers. "why couldn't i protect you?"
yoongi blinks.
his vision grows clear when his cheeks grow wet again.
"come," jae says, her voice finally firm again. "the taxi will take us to the hospital. the police are waiting for us."
