don't forget that i'm human, don't forget that i'm real (0.2)
"don't ya think you've had enough, champ?"
jeon jungkook gasped as he threw his very last punch. gojo satoru lazily blocked it, already having taken off his boxing gloves a while ago. gojo had hundreds of large & small scars criss-crossing all over his body, and jungkook focused on a few of them as he collapsed on the gym mat below the two. "shut up, satoru. not everyone has sub-human level strength & stamina they happen to be born with." gojo chuckled as he walked over to a bench nearby, using a towel to wipe of his sweat & drinking cool water from his comically large cup.
jungkook sat up, stretching his limbs as he did so. "you're getting better, jk, don't sweat any of the mistakes." jungkook felt a vein throb somewhere on his forehead & grimaced from the lingering pain & satoru's statement. "that means that there were mistakes." satoru cocked his head, looking at jungkook with concern. softly, he added, "you could never make a mistake, jk."
"what?" gojo quickly shook his head full of bright white hair & smiled just as bright. "nothing, my good buddy & comrade!" he saluted him, picking up his blue gym bag & cup. "i'm gonna head on out; want me to wait for you?" jungkook, finally having caught his breath, fully stands. he shakes his head, replying, "you go on ahead. i know you have papers to grade." jungkook walks over to where gojo stood, rummaging & packing up his own gym bag, which was red. gojo stared at jungkook for a moment, wheels turning in his head. silently, he turns around, heading for the neon red exit sign.
jungkook breaded the chicken thighs using a mixture of flour, egg, & pre-seasoned panko breadcrumbs. his beat-up stereo he inherited from his father tinkled out various radio hits, some of which jungkook even knew. he hummed quietly to himself, the sizzling of chicken adding a sense of ambiance. the smell wafted throughout his small apartment kitchen.
the pitter-patter of rain was getting even louder, as thunder sounded close in the distance. jungkook didn't mind, though. in fact, if he had a porch & a nice rocking chair, he'd be outside, enjoying the storm to come. but then, the lights flickered. once, twice, then the bulb emitted a soft pop!, swallowing the apartment in darkness. jungkook hissed as his hand got too close to the pan, feeling his way to the stove knob, turning it off.
he was bumbling through his living room when he heard a small hissing noise. immediately, his mind though of some lone wire hidden behind some drywall, waiting to spark & light everything ablaze. his heart jumped & shook as he tumbled his way into his bedroom, feeling his way through his dresser drawers, closet floor, and a large bag to fit it all. the effects of not having a/c started to show themselves, the thin tank-top he threw on after his post-workout shower began to cling to him. fuck, where was his phone!
jungkook silently prayed for anything or anyone to set his phone off & prayed even harder when he couldn't remember if he even had his sound on. the hissing grew louder, & the surrounding darkness enveloped everything. a feeling of panic & helplessness was starting to cage him in, & jungkook made his way back to the kitchen, the barest glow of city lights illuminating the area. he saw his phone light up when a notification popped up. it was on silent, but his heart fluttered in relief at the fact that it was found. jungkook clutched it, beginning to type a phone number.
something flew by his neck.
he recoiled instantly, his hand hitting his nape. he was met with a bight red smear. jungkook didn't even hear his phone clatter on the floor as he whipped his head back & forth, every organ hammering & churning at lightning speed. "w-who, who-!"
something pushed him, his head meeting the floor in a sickening crunch. oh, the pain was terrific; despite sparring & fighting as a hobby, jungkook didn't think that he's ever been hit so hard. the world was blinking out slowly, great black spots poked holes in his vision. a thing slithered in front of him, but jungkook never stayed awake long enough to identify it.
the tokyo jujustu technical college is a new addition to the high school, thanks to a grant bestowed from the jujustu society's big-ballers. it brought in sorcerers of all ages, bolstering the organization's curse eliminating efforts.
gojo satoru, as much as he wanted to pass along vital knowledge & see all of his pupils blossom, hated it.
the students outnumbered the teachers; every day, it seemed that another sorcerer "disappeared," as he was instructed to say. can't be scaring off the students too early, now. gojo was accustomed to 3-5 students at most, not being bombarded with a group as large as 25. hell, he could barely even take on any of his own sorcerer tasks mandated by the same high-ballers who cursed him with this.
he hid in an empty classroom far away from the center hub of the schools, the desks holding the ghosts of voices past. he visually traced the doodles that graced the desks around him, drawn by hands that may or not even exist anymore. a true downpour was happening outside, & gojo could barely see a few feet in front of the large windows.
but the sound of feet running alerted him, & he peeped out the door to see amanai, shoko's star pupil. her hair was tied in a tight bun & was covered in a plain white bandana. a medical mask dangled from one of her ears, & she was clad in forest green scrubs. amanai was panting, her hands resting on her knees.
"sen...gojo-sensei, i think you need to come to the infirmary. shoko said that it's urgent!"
shoko was usually a little slob, but you would never be able to tell in her second home. the infirmary was a cold mixture of metal, light blue, and white. the entire ward seemed to be sterile, the spotless walls being enough to ward off any germs. amanai hurried behind gojo, his long legs twice her own stride. she instructed him to go to room 7, located in the icu. who was it? his mind raced through all of his students that he could possibly think of.
...no, they've just came back from a mission...no, she should be able to handle a simple mission like that...what if he wasn't as ready as gojo thought?...
room 7 loomed like a gravestone in front of him & gojo stopped in front of the door abruptly, amanai bumping into him. "oof!" gojo swooped around & quickly grabbed her, muttering a quick apology. once she could stand, gojo tumbled out, "who is in here?" amanai silently gestured for him to open the door. "shoko should still be inside."
with that grave message, amanai blended into the surrounding environment, directing some workers to places gojo couldn't see. placing a long & slender hand on the handle, gojo pushed the door open...
...just to see shoko slumped in a chair next to the patient. the patient (gojo couldn't immediately tell if it was a man or a woman) was heavily bandaged, & a breathing machine beeped intermittently. shoko's eyes were as dark & bleak as the deep purple shadows underneath. "the reason i didn't tell amanai who it was was because i wanted you to keep your cool," shoko straightened her posture, now sitting properly. "i understand that the patient holds a special place in your heart, just like..."
she didn't have to say it. gojo knew immediately who it was. years, decades of doing this job...one could only think it was going to get easier, that the pain will one day feel like a dull thump against the walls of one's heart. but for gojo, it always like a fresh wound, like another one of his million of scars have opened up & was constantly stinging with ever breath he took.
gojo grabbed the end of the narrow bed, trying not to make eye contact with the clipboard that was attached. the name & face truly confirmed it all. shoko materialized right beside him, boring her dark eyes into the side of his head. "how long have you known him?"
"we...we met at the gym that's by my apartment. he was nice to talk to, made me...forget..." at this, gojo closed & opened his scarred & calloused hand. silence came, & shoko nodded, knowing what gojo was getting at. "he might not survive, satoru."
& a spark lit up in the pit of his stomach, a rage lunged up & out his throat. "then save him! do fucking something! all this-" & he gestured about the room, "-all of this, & still, still 'he might not survive'?!" shoko took a step back, a semblance of emotion appeared behind her usually unreadable eyes. gojo analyzed shock, then surprise, before shoko's eyes closed off the world once more.
"gojo..." but shoko didn't even try to complete her statement. she's been in this situation so many times; she wasn't a god, even equipped with the reverse curse technique. three veins throbbed out of gojo's head as he gripped the end of the bed, his muscles bulging. "if you need me, you know where to find me." & with that, shoko left the two men alone.
gojo sat with jungkook for 3 days straight. finallly, on the cusp of the fourth day, jungkook could be moved from icu to standard emergency care. "he's not healed, gojo. in fact, he's still touch-&-go, even at this moment." shoko pulled the curtain to, giving the group a little privacy. lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, "you need to go home. now." gojo took the ice packs off of his bloodshot eyes, making his eyes appear almost demonic. the bright hospital lights stabbed at his irises violently, & he clasped them shut.
"it's the fact that he's not healed that's keeping me here, shoko."
she sighed, her annoyance barely contained. amanai slipped in, to which to shoko ordered, "amanai, don't treat gojo of any visible injuries. if he wants any treatment-" & shoko grabbed the ice packs off of gojo's eyes, who hissed & put his hands over them, "-tell him he has to be admitted first." amanai nodded silently, shooting gojo an apologetic look. then, she checked on some of jungkook's ivs & vitals, jotting them down on a tablet in her hand. shoko left during this ordeal, then amanai soon after. gojo, chained to the man in the hospital bed, sighed deeply.
the sun was a freakishly large ball. then, it shrank to a dot. then, it became a rectangle.
"mr. jeon, try not to struggle. i'm going to remove your breathing tube."
an uncomfortable mixture of a rod being scraped out of his stomach occurred, & he moaned weakly. "it's okay, it's out, it's out." a hand brushed his head, fingers ran through his hair. fresh oxygen entered through his nose, & jungkook's eyes fully opened. a bubble of inappropriate laughter threatened to come out of his parched mouth.
he settled on a joke instead. "i think i definitely made a mistake in my form earlier."
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