051021. hoseok & jimin.

[lovestrippedbare]

SPRING.
May 10, 2021.

WHO hoseok & jimin
WHAT reunion
(cw: suicide, self-harm)

WHERE hospital
TIMELINE cycle 1

HOSEOK The room is quieter than Hoseok’s used to, darker when he blinks open his eyes, and he surprised to find that he’s alone. Usually he ends up in a room with several other patients; he must have really injured himself this time.

His head hurts a little when he sits up and he feels the bandage there, presses against the gauze to feel the sting. His palms are scraped up too, his knees cut and bruised when he throws the sheet back and pulls up his pant legs to check, and his body aches, but he doesn’t have any casts, doesn’t have an IV, isn’t hooked to any machines at all. He feels groggy, his brain muddier than usual, which makes him think maybe he’s had a concussion. But then why isn’t he being monitored?

The room is small, minimal, no furniture except the bed Hoseok’s sitting in and a single chair. If he wasn’t wearing the standard issue hospital pajamas he wouldn’t be sure that’s even where he is.

It’s quiet when he peers out into the hall, the lighting dim. A nurse immediately comes over to him.

“You need to stay in bed, Mr. Jung,” she tells him firmly. “Remember?”

Hoseok doesn’t remember. The last memory he has is of the river, the breeze, the smell of bindae-tteok frying, feeling nothing, hollow and empty, waiting for the pills to do their job.

“Bathroom,” Hoseok replies, offering a smile. He’s good at smiling on the outside, making it look real, sweet, and the nurse smiles back, placing a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder.

“Just down that hall,” she tells him, nodding. “Make sure you come right back.”

“I will,” Hoseok assures with a bow, heading down the hall. But he doesn’t need the bathroom; he just doesn’t want to be in that room anymore, ignored.

There are rows of doors on either side of the hall, ones just like his door. There are windows in all the doors and Hoseok looks into each one, sees empty beds, sees people sleeping, each room identical to his own, like a copy, cut and paste, nothing special.

Until he gets to the second to last room on the left before the bathrooms. Because he recognizes the boy in the bed. It makes his heart come alive in a way it hasn’t in a long time, wrenching in his chest, because this is impossible. He’s sure it’s just his mind trying to cope with all the pain, with the gaping emptiness, the sorrow and despair that comes from losing people you love, gone forever.

His hands are shaking when he opens the door and closes it behind him, his legs trembling as he crosses the room, stands at the bedside. Tears gather and fall and even if this isn’t him, Hoseok’s too far gone now to stop crying, to turn back. He takes the boy’s hand, small and soft, and sobs.

“Jimin.”



JIMIN Jimin has no idea what time it is. It’s dark, that much he knows. It’s dark out and quiet so he knows, somehow, that he should be sleeping. Which means he should probably be tired.

He is tired. Yes. He’s always tired.

He’s tired, but he’s awake anyway, sitting on his bed with his knees tucked up to his chin, arms curled around his shins. He’s tired and… cold? Maybe cold. Is this what cold feels like? He used to know.

There’s a sound then, a creaking, and Jimin lifts his head to see the stretch of light that comes from the hallway as his door is opened, stares blankly at the boy rushing forward to sit on the edge of his bed. He’s crying. but Jimin doesn’t know why. Jimin’s fingers twitch and he hesitates before finally raising one arm to brush his fingers along the boy’s cheek. That’s his intent, at least, but the boy catches his hand before he can do so, wraps long, slender fingers around his.

“Hi,” he says in response. “Hello.”

It takes a moment longer for him to realize that the boy has said his name and he frowns. “You know me?”



HOSEOK Hoseok sucks a breath, the ache in his chest slicing deeper, colder. It’s been a long time, almost two years, but there’s no way Jimin’s just forgotten him. Is there?

The last two months have taken almost all of what’s left of Hoseok’s heart. Losing Jungkook had felt like having himself torn in half, ripped apart, and he hadn’t even begun to find his feet when Yoongi followed. Without them, his baby brother, his best friend, without Jimin, Hoseok had lost himself, forgotten how to pretend to smile, how to breathe. He’d lost his job at the burger place, not bothering to show up, only managed to survive at all because his friends at the dance studio paid him even if he didn’t teach, knowing he wouldn’t stop dancing unless something very serious had happened.

He’s been in the hospital seven times since Jungkook took one too many steps, three of those since Yoongi started the fire. He doesn’t work, he barely sleeps or eats, he doesn’t talk to anyone, just takes pills and goes on walks and falls down, wakes up in a hospital bed, then starts all over again. He doesn’t make plans to die, but he hasn’t made any plans to stay alive, either. There are no plans at all, just pills and hospitals.

But Jimin is here, right here, right in front of him. His hair has grown out, still cut short but blond on the ends, dark at the roots for several inches, but his eyes are the same, his face, though a little gaunt, is the same one Hoseok still dreams about, his lips are the same ones Hoseok still aches to kiss.

“I know you,” Hoseok answers, unable to stop the tears from coursing down his cheeks. “I, Jimin,” he says, trying to keep himself calm. “You know me too.”



JIMIN The boy's face is still all twisted up, eyes red and glassy as tears stream down his face. He's beautiful, Jimin thinks, but that seems weird. People aren't supposed to look pretty when they cry and this boy doesn't look pretty in the usual sense. But he is beautiful. How is he so beautiful?

"I do?" he asks, brow furrowing a little.

There are all sorts of people in this place, he's learned. Most people here are older and some are angry. Some are scared. He used to be scared, he thinks. But he's not scared right now. Should he be scared of the boy sitting on his bed? Is he seeing things that aren't really there? Is the boy a ghost?

Jimin twists his wrist a little, gives a faint tug, testing out the resistance. Ghosts can't hold on.

Slowly, Jimin's lips slide into a frown.

There are all sorts of people here. Scared people. Confused people. Lonely people. Distantly, Jimin's aware that he's all three of those things, but all those emotions feel very far away and unreal right now. And the boy in front of him is so present. So real.

He curls his fingers gently, still fighting the urge to reach out and wipe the boy's tears. "How do I know you?"



HOSEOK Jimin’s hand is so warm, solid and sure even though his expression is cloudy, his pupils dilated as he blinks slowly. He looks like a recreation of Jimin, like a photograph came to life and is walking around with Jimin’s face but Jimin isn’t actually there. Hoseok doesn’t know why he’s here, but he knows where here is. And it makes sense for Jimin to be here, being gone so long, locked up and sedated, probably abandoned by his parents.

He didn’t think it could be worse than what he’d experienced, left alone at age seven to fend for himself. But this, this is awful. Jimin’s parents didn’t just walk away from him, they locked him away, out of sight, out of mind. Hoseok remembers the cold expression on Jimin’s mother’s face that day in the emergency room, the way she looked at her son like he was something she loathed. And this is what she’d done, taken him away from his life, his friends, the people who loved him, cut him off from any kind of affection or care or hope.

Hoseok’s first instinct is to get Jimin out of here, to drag him into the hall and figure out some way to escape this place, before it’s too late, before they can never get him back.

Because it isn’t too late yet. It can’t be. Hoseok won’t let it be.

“We were friends,” Hoseok says, his tears slowing, a few more spilling as he blinks. “We went to the same school. I used to walk you home every day.” He’s starting slow, starting at the beginning, hoping maybe Jimin’s memories will break through the drugs in his system, little by little. “I’m Hoseok,” he adds, unable to stop his lower lip from trembling, having to bite his tongue to keep from adding I’m your Hoseokie, and I missed you so much.



JIMIN With one more gentle twist of his wrist, Jimin is able to free his hand from the boy’s hold. He reaches forward with that same hand, finally brushing the backs of his fingers against the boy’s cheeks, frowning at the wetness against his skin. There are too many tears for Jimin to be able to dry them all, but he tries all the same, carefully wiping with his thumb as well.

He stills after a moment, gaze locking on the boy’s — what he did he say his name was? Hoseok. It was definitely Hoseok. And that feels right somehow, feels known and solid and familiar. Hoseok. Hoseok-ah. Hoseok hyung.

“You did?” he asks, but it’s not a challenge. There are all sorts of people here. Scared people and confused people, but somehow this feels real. Somehow, Jimin thinks he can believe this boy. “That sounds kind. I think I would like that.” And that feels true too even if Jimin has an even more difficult time remembering what home was for him, what it felt like outside of these four walls. There’s more out there, he knows. There’s a long, long hallway and a little sitting room where he eats his meals, and chairs where he can watch TV and a place he can read books sometimes.

It’s home. That’s his home.

Jimin’s gaze drops to the tremble of Hoseok’s bottom lip and, without thinking, he presses the pad of his thumb to it, trying to still the shake. “Why are you crying? Are you new here?”



HOSEOK Jimin pulls his hand away and Hoseok panics, worries that Jimin’s going to make him leave, but then Jimin is gently brushing his tears away with the soft backs of his fingers. It’s so sweet and tender and it’s been almost two years since Jimin disappeared from that emergency room and Hoseok starts crying harder again, shaking and sniffling, his chest aching like it’s about to either explode or collapse. He can’t take a full breath, each one catching on a painful whimper, and when Jimin presses his thumb to Hoseok’s bottom lip he sobs, unable to stop himself.

It takes a minute before he can even try to speak again, his throat swollen, tight with emotion, and all he wants is to wrap Jimin in his arms, to hold him and never let go, not for the rest of his life. But Jimin doesn’t know him, doesn’t remember him, and Hoseok has to think clearly for the both of them.

Swallowing hard, he wipes at his own wet cheeks with his palms. “I am new,” he says, glancing at the door as he remembers that he’d told the nurse he’d be right back, that he’s probably been gone too long, that maybe she’ll be looking for him. He probably doesn’t have much time, but all he knows is that, now that he’s found Jimin, he’s not going to leave him here.

“I don’t know why I’m here. Do you know why you are?” he asks. “Do you want to go home?”



JIMIN The boy doesn't stop crying. If anything, he only cries more, his face still twisted with anguish as Jimin continues to try wiping the fresh streaks. It's a useless effort, but he doesn't stop, something compelling him to try to fix it. There's a throb under his chest, a muted thing he doesn't know what to do with. He thinks he remembers crying, but it's been...

He doesn't remember. It feels like a long time since he's felt anything.

The questions the boy asks are strange and Jimin's frown deepens as he shakes his head. "I did something, I think," he says after a long moment. Something flickers at the back of his mind, a memory of cold water and darkness, gone before he can latch on and hold it. He shakes his head again, his eyes still on Hoseok's.

"This is where I belong," he adds because that's what he's been told for as long as he can remember. It's what they say every time. Every day. He knows it must be true. "Don't worry, they'll take care of you here. It's a good home."



HOSEOK “It’s not,” Hoseok replies miserably, staring into Jimin’s eyes, searching for even a glimmer of recognition there. “You, you don’t remember, but you have a home, outside of here,” he says, moving to sit so they’re more face to face. He takes one of Jimin’s hands in his own, holding it tightly.

“You have friends,” he tells Jimin. “They miss you.” He wants to list them, almost does, but then Jungkook’s name is on the tip of his tongue and his heart twists violently in his chest, an abrupt sob cutting off his words. He inhales past the ache of it, because he’s lost so much, they all have, and he needs to save Jimin, he needs to bring him home. For Jimin’s sake, but for Hoseok’s too, for Taehyung’s, for Namjoon’s.

“We should go,” he says, squeezing Jimin’s hand, sitting back on his knees. “Maybe we can hide somewhere until the morning, then sneak out when someone’s coming in.” He crawls off Jimin’s bed, tugging Jimin’s arm. “Come on.”



JIMIN There's something in the tone of Hoseok's voice, something that catches and snags at the back of Jimin's mind and rings as true. He has friends outside of here. Or, had. He had a life.

But that's true of everyone here, isn't it? And some of them still have that life, some are welcome to return to it.

Not Jimin. That life isn't his anymore.

Hoseok slides off the bed, his hand wrapped lightly around Jimin's wrist and Jimin frowns, a dull tremor of panic crawling up his body as he leans back with a shake his head. He doesn't know where Hoseok's trying to take him, where he thinks they can go that isn't here. There are doors and locks and people stationed to keep him where he belongs. And maybe this isn't Hoseok's home, maybe it's not where he belongs, but they'll stop him too. They always do.

"No," he breathes, shaking his head as he tugs back again. "That's not-- Hoseok, no. Please don't. Just stay here."



HOSEOK Hoseok shakes his head in reply, but he doesn’t pull on Jimin’s arm, doesn’t try to make him move. The last thing he wants is to upset Jimin, to make him distrustful. All he wants is so protect Jimin, to save him, to help him remember what he has on the outside, why he shouldn’t just stay here.

“Okay, Jimin,” he says softly. “We don’t have to go.” He smiles gently, takes Jimin’s hand again and squeezes.

“I think I have to go back to my room,” he says then, even though he doesn’t want to let go of Jimin ever again, now that’s he’s finally, finally found him. If he’s going to get Jimin to trust him again he needs time. Getting kicked out of this facility is the worst thing he can do.

“Are you okay here, Jimin? Are they treating you well?” he asks carefully.



JIMIN The fact that Hoseok doesn't fight him is a strange sort of surprise and Jimin isn't sure whether or not he should be relieved. Or what it means that he isn't sure. Because he doesn't want to leave. Does he? Couldn't anyway. The outside world isn't where he belongs, he knows that. He's known that forever. This is home.

So why does some part of him almost want to let Hoseok try anyway?

"Oh," he says, his confusion dropping solidly into disappointment at the mention of Hoseok going back to his room. He looks down at where Hoseok's hand is still gently wrapped around his own and he squeezes instinctively, holding tight.

Is he okay here? Are they treating him well?

He isn't sure what to say, doesn't know what his basis for comparison should be so he only lets out a breath as he releases Hoseok's hand, and shrugs. "This is home," is all he says because that much at least is true.



HOSEOK Hoseok’s heart clenches when Jimin lets go of his hand and he shivers, feels strangely, instantly cold. He doesn’t want to leave, not without Jimin at his side, but the nurse is probably looking for him by now, and he doesn’t know why he’s here, doesn’t know how much trouble he’ll get in if he gets found in here.

He notices that Jimin doesn’t answer his question, and that only strengthens his resolve. Taking Jimin gently by the shoulders, he looks into Jimin’s eyes, sees the boy he befriended in school, the one he walked home with day after day, who danced with him, who visited him when he was lonely or sick, who found him precious, who loved him. Who loves him, but just doesn’t remember it. Who is Hoseok’s home.

“You don’t remember, but I love you,” he says softly. “I won’t leave without you.”

He has to bite the inside of his mouth when he turns around, clenching his fists against his tears. The hallway is quiet and he manages to get halfway back to the nurse’s station when he’s found. He gets escorted back to his room, is fitted with soft restraints (just for the night), but it’s okay because he’s still here. He’s here and Jimin’s here, and he’s going to get Jimin out.



MAY 10, 1:45 PM



HOSEOK Jimin isn’t at breakfast the next morning and Hoseok can’t help worrying, can barely restrain himself from going down that hallway to find Jimin again. But there are too many nurses out in the daytime, too much security, so he sits and he behaves. He sees a therapist, gets asked a bunch of questions about how often he ends up in the hospital, about his injuries, and he cooperates as much as he thinks will keep him here. He doesn’t care why he’s here, he knows why, and there’s no way to fix something he does to himself on purpose.

All he can think about is Jimin. When he’s in his room he can’t wait to be out of it again, when he’s in the lounge with the TV he doesn’t watch it, just stares at the door. He doesn’t eat when they bring him food, just stares across the room, looking at every face, looking for the one he cares about the most.



JIMIN When Jimin wakes up, it’s to the face of the orderly standing over him, small cup of pills in hand. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he sits up, takes the little cup without question, swallowing them down with a quick shot of water before promising that he’ll be out soon. He’s missed breakfast, apparently, along with his morning appointment. But he’ll be able to make up the latter in the afternoon, not that he has any choice.

After changing out of his sleep clothes into a pair of nearly identical pants, he wanders down to the living area, blinking sleepily at the familiar faces of nurses and orderlies and other patients. The world still feels blurred around the edges and his muscles heavy. He can remember last night in bits and pieces, remember the cold of the water as it seeped into his skin, the chill when he breathed it in.

And he remembers the hands too, grabbing and pulling then pounding on his chest. He remembers how much it hurt, all over. Down to his bones.

And then he remembers not feeling anything at all.

It isn’t until he’s sitting at the table with his tray full of food that he notices the boy across the room staring at him, eyes wide and face pale. Jimin blinks, fear and excitement and relief and panic all twisting up inside his chest as his mouth falls open.

“… Hoseok?”



HOSEOK Jimin recognizes him this time, Hoseok’s sure of it, and he gets up from his seat so fast that he knocks his chair over, orderlies rushing to him instantly, probably thinking that he’s agitated or trying to cause trouble. He apologizes as he picks up the chair himself, bowing lowly, and they leave him be, at least for the moment, syringes tucked back into the pockets of their white coats.

He waits until the orderlies are back at their stations before he walks over to the table where Jimin’s sitting, leaving his own lunch behind, forgotten. He sits down quickly, keeps his voice down so as to not draw any unwanted attention.

“Jimin,” he says, his heart racing. “Do you remember me?”



JIMIN All Jimin can do is stare, his heart lodged in his throat as mild chaos breaks out around the boy, people rushing over in the commotion, some of the patients shouting in anger and confusion. Thankfully, it's over quickly enough, the air quieting as Hoseok rushes over to sit at Jimin's table.

And Jimin is still staring, still not entirely sure that what he's seeing is real and not some hallucination.

"Last night," he finally manages after a long, long moment. "That was... that happened?"

Because it'd felt so much like a dream, the vision of Hoseok like an angel. He can remember only bits and pieces of it now, can remember the touch of Hoseok's hand around his wrist most of all, urging him to run away. He doesn't remember how he got there or how he left. Doesn't remember much of what was said. Doesn't remember enough at all.



HOSEOK Hoseok still can’t tell for sure if Jimin’s remembering him from last night or just remembering him, though Jimin’s eyes seem a lot clearer than they had, his pupils reacting normally to the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He glances over at the orderlies again, but they’re not paying them any attention anymore, scanning the room as usual.

“I was in your room last night, yes,” Hoseok says, keeping his voice low. “I got admitted yesterday afternoon. I found you by accident, somehow. I…” He swallows, wondering how much he should say, how much Jimin remembers of him from the outside now if anything at all.

“I’ve been looking for you for two years, Jiminie,” he admits softly, his hand twitching with the desire to reach out and take one of Jimin’s. He curls it into a fist against his thigh. “I can’t believe I finally found you.”



JIMIN Jimin can barely breathe, his eyes wide and locked on Hoseok's beautiful, familiar face. He looks a little different from the last time Jimin saw him, he thinks. His features have smoothed out more and his face is slimmer. His eyes aren't quite as bright as Jimin remembers either and there seems to be a heaviness on his shoulders, but he's still undoubtedly Hoseok.

It's too much for Jimin to believe and, carefully, so so slowly, he reaches over to lightly touch the back of Hoseok's hand with two fingers. He half expects his fingers to go straight through, a sound catching in his throat when he feels warm, soft skin instead and he immediately, instinctively, pulls his hand away again, heart pounding.

"How? How are you... why?" he asks, fighting the prickle at the back of his eyes as he looks Hoseok over as much as he can, looks at his neck and his arms, searching. Because there are only a few ways for a person to get here, some more drastic than others, some more solid. "Hoseok. No. Hobi, no," he says, his voice rising in panic as he shakes his head. "You shouldn't be here."



HOSEOK Jimin’s eyes are wide, his expression one of disbelief, and Hoseok can tell what he’s doing when he reaches out to touch the back of Hoseok’s hand, checking to see if he’s really there the same way Hoseok had when he’d taken Jimin’s hand the night before. But instead of being relieved by the touch Jimin seems more panicked, his chest heaving with his breath, eyes moving over Hoseok frantically. It takes a few terrifying seconds for Hoseok to understand why Jimin’s so upset, but once it clicks he shakes his head, reaching to take Jimin’s hand.

“No no, it’s okay,” he says, keeping his voice low and calm. “It’s not like that, I didn’t…” He’s about to say hurt myself, but he did do that, he did. He just didn’t do it with the intention of doing anything more than ending up in the hospital. He hadn’t even been trying to get admitted into the mental care facility, though he should have known that’s where he’d find Jimin, should have tried to do it so much sooner.

“I fell,” Hoseok says then, because he wants to be honest with Jimin but he doesn’t want to do it here, surrounded by other people. “Like I always used to in high school, you know? I hit my head,” he goes on, gesturing at the bandage on his forehead. He swallows, looking around them, at the other patients, some of which are starting to stare, to get restless, at the orderlies who aren’t watching but are also always watching.

“I fall down a lot more lately, my…” He swallows, looking right into Jimin’s eyes. “My narcolepsy,” he says, hoping Jimin can understand a little from his tone alone.



JIMIN Hoseok's hand is warm around his, fingers slim but strong as they hold on tight and Jimin's heart stutters all over again. No one's touched him like this in so long, held onto him like a lifeline, like something valuable. It's only their hands, but it still tugs at something deep in Jimin's belly, has him short of breath.

He listens as Hoseok talks, trying to take it all in as his ears start ringing. Hoseok had said he's been looking for two years. Has it really it been that long? Jimin stopped counting ages ago; after all, what was the point when he knew he'd never get out?

But, two years?

"So they put you in here," he finally manages, urged to speak by the pleading look on Hoseok's face. He's struggling to keep up, struggling to work out why Hoseok might still be passing out after all this time, why he would ever be doing it on purpose. It's something Jimin's never really understood entirely and now even less. He shakes his head helplessly, opens his mouth to form useless words before he gives up, reaching toward Hoseok's bandage with his free hand, fingertips lightly grazing the fabric. "Does it hurt?"



HOSEOK Hoseok shakes his head, though it does actually sting a little when Jimin touches his forehead, but it’s a good pain, it proves even more than Jimin’s really here, that he’s real. He wishes they could go somewhere else, could be alone somewhere, but he knows that’s impossible. The orderlies will never let them leave the room on their own.

“I’ve been here too many times,” he says, threading his fingers through Jimin’s. “This hospital. I used to try harder, to make sure I wasn’t always coming to the same place, but I stopped caring, I guess.” He squeezes Jimin’s hand again, and he knows his grip is probably too tight, but he can’t help clinging, after all this time, after everything.

“Why are you still in here?” he asks then, voice low and desperate. “After the seizure, I tried to find out what happened to you, I tried to see your parents, but they wouldn’t talk to me. The hospital wouldn’t tell me anything. Have you been here the whole time?”



JIMIN Though Hoseok shakes his head, Jimin doesn’t let his fingers linger for long, choosing instead to brush them down the side of Hoseok’s face, his chest clenching at a distant memory. He hasn’t let himself think about this for so long, hasn’t let himself remember how his life used to be and he instantly curls his fingers and pulls away, dropping his hand to the table.

But Hoseok meets him halfway, instead curling their fingers lightly and squeezing. Jimin can’t breathe, but he thinks so long as Hoseok keeps holding his hand, he won’t ever need to.

“I…” he starts, but realizes he isn’t too sure how to answer. “Yes,” he finally manages. “I’ve been here. Sometimes I go to other parts of the hospital if, uhm. If stuff happens.” He falls quiet then before offering a small shrug. “I don’t remember the last time I saw my parents. I’m sorry they wouldn’t talk to you.”



HOSEOK The blood runs out of Hoseok’s face when Jimin says if stuff happens because he knows what that means, he knows. And it’s not that he doesn’t understand, because Jimin’s been locked up in this place for two years with no one coming to see him, not even his parents, cut off from his friends, from the people who love him. Jimin’s parents threw him away the same way Hoseok’s had but worse, because they locked him away, are keeping him from everyone, from his entire life.

And Hoseok gets it, because what’s the point in surviving if you have nothing? But it isn’t Jimin’s decision to be here, and he has people who love him, who would care for him, if only they’d known where he was all these years.

Hoseok knew before but he knows even more now, he has to get Jimin out of here, he has to. After Jungkook, after Yoongi, Hoseok will do anything to not lose anyone else, and he would rather die than let anything happen to Jimin. He would give his own life without hesitation or thought.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok says, clinging tightly to Jimin’s hand. “I found you now. And I’m not leaving without you, okay? If you can’t leave then I’m staying here too.”



JIMIN A multitude of expressions cross Hoseok's face and something new loosens under Jimin's chest, another memory igniting in his mind. Because he remembers this too, remembers how Hoseok can never lie or hide anything, how every one of his emotions is always so clear on his face.

But what Jimin's seeing on his face isn't happy, he realizes. He's concerned and afraid. Pained. Even as he grabs tighter to Jimin's hand and promises to stay, he doesn't look happy. Jimin can't blame him. He doesn't belong here the way Jimin does.

"No," Jimin says, shaking his head as he carefully tries to pull his hand back, panic spiking under his skin. This is his place, but it's not Hoseok's. There's nothing out in the world for Jimin anymore, but Hoseok still has the others, still has the dance studio. Maybe Hoseok does stuff to get admitted sometimes, but it's not the same as Jimin who's fundamentally broken. He doesn't need to be here. "No, it's-- You don't have to stay. This place isn't for you, hyung. You shouldn't be here."



HOSEOK Something breaks loose in Hoseok’s heart when Jimin tugs his hand free of Hoseok’s, disconnecting all contact between them, and he pulls his hands into his own lap, curling his fingers into fists. Jimin’s panicking, something Hoseok remembers very vividly from before, and he knows he needs to back off as much as it makes his chest ache to do it.

But he shakes his head too, because Jimin’s implying that he does belong here when Hoseok doesn’t, which isn’t true, can’t be true. Jimin’s been here for two years, an eternity. And he knows Jimin has issues, that there’s post traumatic stress and fear and anxiety, the same things Hoseok was told before he was released from the orphanage. It’s something that needs treatment, therapy and maybe medication, but not this. Jimin’s still here because his parents abandoned him here, not for any other reason.

“You shouldn’t be here either,” he says, quietly, carefully, his fingernails biting into his palms as he curls his hands up tightly. “Not for two years. Not alone like this, cut off from the people who love you.”



JIMIN Hoseok’s hands slide away from his own and Jimin doesn’t know whether to feel relieved that Hoseok isn’t trying to push for the impossible or disappointed at the sudden loss of contact. After so long without touch — two years of it — he thought he’d gotten used to it. Didn’t need it.

And now, after only minutes of having Hoseok’s fingers wrapped around his own, he feels ike he might die if he doesn’t get it back.

“There are people here who care for me,” he argues, holding his hands close to his chest now. “The nurses and staff. The doctors. They don’t-- they know I can’t leave, that the people outside don’t want me when I’m like this. I’m broken, Hoseokie. I’m not like you,” he adds, eyes starting to sting. “I can’t be normal no matter how hard I try. And no one’s-- I’d just make everything worse for all of you. I can’t be strong. I can’t be what you need.”



HOSEOK Hoseok sighs, because what Jimin thinks is wrong. He’s not broken, no matter what his parents have told him, he doesn’t need to stay here. Everyone Hoseok knows is fucked up in some way or another, all of them do stupid, dangerous things, none of them are happy and well adjusted.

In the time Hoseok’s known Jimin he’s only seen him have a seizure that one time. It’s probably not the first, but it’s not constant, it’s not enough that Hoseok would think Jimin would have to be locked away for his own safety. Hoseok should be locked away for that, probably, because he does hurt himself, he does it on purpose, does it for attention because he doesn’t know how to get anyone to care otherwise, disposable as he is.

“Are you saying you’re happy here?” he asks. “Because maybe you are better off, then. Staying.” His blood pressure must be rising because the cut under the bandage starts to throb. “There’s nothing good out there.”



JIMIN It’s not a weird question at all, but it’s also not one Jimin knows how to answer. He really hasn’t considered whether or not he’s happy here in a very long time if for the simple fact that it doesn’t matter. Being happy or unhappy doesn’t change his circumstances. If he tells the nurses he’s unhappy, he’ll just be prescribed more sessions. Or, worse, more pills.

So he keeps quiet, keeps his head down.

And ignores the aching loneliness that threatens to swallow him whole every day.

“Is that why you’re here?” he asks, frowning as he looks up at Hoseok again, his shoulders slumped. “Did you want in here because things are so bad out there?” It makes him wonder what could be so bad, makes him wonder if Hoseok’s all alone now, if Jungkook, and Taehyung have left now, too. The idea of it makes him hurt all over, guilt sinking heavy in his gut.



HOSEOK It wasn’t quite so intentional, but his automatic reaction is to answer Jimin’s question affirmatively. His unhappiness, his loneliness, the sorrow deep in his heart, that’s what’s lead him here. Finding Jimin was the first spark of hope he’d had in a while, but Jimin doesn’t want him here, won’t leave with him. When the discharge him he’ll be back where he was, alone, empty, nothing to keep him moving but the steady, incessant beating of his broken heart.

“There’s nothing out there,” he says. “I didn’t try to come here, to this place, but I might as well be here. If they let me go, I’ll just keep coming back anyway.”

It’s easy to get in, he thinks. So easy. And it’s not hard to stay, either. Jimin’s been here almost two years.

“I don’t want to be out there if you’re still in here,” he says, remembering when he used to hold on to Jimin’s smile, when remembering it was the only thing that got him through the day, before everything got so imaginably worse.



JIMIN The ball of guilt in his stomach winds tighter, his eyes locked on Hoseok as he tries to remember to keep breathing. A lot can happen in two years, he knows. A lot and nothing at all. He feels like time stopped the moment he got in here, all his memories shriveling up inside him, turning to dust.

And now all the things he's tried to hard to forget are collapsing atop him like an avalanche.

"What does that mean?" he asks, struggling to find his breath. "That there's nothing out there. What does that mean?" Because it could be anything. It could mean that Hoseok's lost his job and his apartment, that he's lost Taehyung and Jungkook, that the others came back but then chose to leave again. So much can happen in two years and Jimin doesn't know any of it. He has no idea.



HOSEOK Hoseok shakes his head, because Jimin doesn’t need to know this, not now, while he’s still in here, locked away. And even if telling Jimin was a good idea Hoseok’s not sure he can say the words out loud, that he can manage to tell Jimin what’s happened in the last few weeks. He can barely think about it without hyperventilating or collapsing into complete despair.

“I’m just alone,” he says, even though it’s not strictly true. He still has Namjoon and Taehyung, but, after Jungkook and Yoongi, they don’t talk anymore. Hoseok doesn’t really talk to anyone, not even at the dance studio. He’s too empty on the inside to be a friend to anyone anyway.

“And I can’t… I can’t be alone,” he adds, his hands shaking. Being alone is why he’s here, is why he keeps taking pills, why he keeps getting hurt, hurting himself. There is nothing else, no comfort, no happiness, no meaning in life anymore. Everyone he loves is gone.

But Jimin is here, they’re together again. And if Jimin won’t leave, then Hoseok’s going to stay. He’ll do anything to not lose Jimin again.



JIMIN Jimin takes only a moment to do the math. If it's been two years, then both Taehyung and Jungkook are out of school and there's every reason to believe they've both gone off to university.

Or, well. It's easy for Jimin to believe that at least Jungkook's done so, especially if Yoongi's never come back. Given how little care Taehyung's always had toward school, it's a little more difficult for Jimin to imagine him going off to university, but he supposes there isn't much keeping him where he is if Namjoon's still... wherever he went.

(Some part of him used to wonder if the others were looking for him, used to wonder if it might be possible for them to at least visit. But his parents had made it fairly clear that he wasn't to have visitors, not even themselves and, at some point, right around the time he stopped counting the days, Jimin gave up on ever seeing his friends again. He can only imagine they did the same with him.)

"I can't believe they left you," he says, taking hold of Hoseok's hand again and gripping tight. Even now, even after all this time, he remembers how desperately Hoseok's always needed that, how awful it is for him to be left alone. The weight in his gut only grows heavier. "I did it too, I'm sorry, I-- I didn't mean to end up here. I didn't want to leave you, I promise. But we can be here together now," he quickly adds, scooting in the tiniest bit closer, his eyes locked on Hoseok's. "If you want, you can stay here with me."



HOSEOK Hoseok has to fight against his natural reaction, because they did leave him, Yoongi and Jungkook left him, left all of them, forever. And they couldn’t recover from that, none of them could be the comfort that the others needed because they were all completely broken. But he doesn’t want to tell Jimin what happened, not now, doesn’t even want to say the words out loud, his stomach roiling just at the thought.

So he shakes his head, ignores that part and latches on to what Jimin says about himself. “I know you didn’t,” he says, squeezing Jimin’s hand back tight enough to make his own knuckles ache. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you until now. I tried, I promise. I really, really tried.”

He knows Jimin doesn’t blame him, but he can’t help blaming himself. This is the same hospital Hoseok brought Jimin to, the day of his seizure. He should have kept looking here, he should have done everything he could, but he was afraid, he was stupid.

“I want to stay here with you,” he says, because there really is nothing out there, not for him, not without Jimin. “I’m going to stay here with you.”



JIMIN Hoseok’s apology only has Jimin gripping tighter and shaking his head. He doesn’t blame Hoseok for giving up, doesn’t blame any of them. He gave up himself long ago, stopped counting the days and with it, stopped clinging to a hope he knew would never be realized.

The fact that Hoseok is here with him now is so far beyond anything Jimin could have imagined. Now he doesn’t have to be alone. Now, he can have some semblance of happiness.

“Promise?” he asks, the lump forming in his throat making it hard to speak. “Promise you won’t leave?”



HOSEOK “I promise,” Hoseok says, even though he isn’t certain yet how he can make sure he stays here. He knows why he’s here now, at least, that his hurting himself is finally obvious to the staff of the hospital. His first meeting with a doctor this morning hadn’t gone into too much detail and Hoseok had been so occupied with wanting to find Jimin again that he’d probably come across more despondent than usual, so maybe he can play up his depression. It’s not like it isn’t there, that he’s not hurting himself because he has nothing else in his life, like being without Jimin, like losing Jungkook and Yoongi, hasn’t reduced him to barely a shadow of a real person.

But he has Jimin now. All he has to do is stay here, in this hospital, and he won’t ever have to be alone again.

“I promise, Jimin. I won’t ever lose you again.”


CODE BY TESSISAMESS