Hey!! I would love to request a Whitaker x Langdon. Where Langdon is dating Whitakers sister and that has made them to become buddies all of a sudden but the Pitt crew has no idea that whitaker has a sister or that Langdon is dating anyone (you can chose which one fits better) so they are randomly thrown off guard where this new friendship began and start speculating their own ideas. And it’s in mixed media form! (hope that makes sense lol it’s my first time making a request)
A vet and a resident walk into a bar(n) . . .
tags: frank langdon x whitaker!reader, equine vet reader, medical inaccuracies, reader gets hurt (kicked in the stomach), secret relationship, overprotective dennis and frank, mixed media (smau + written portion), abby and kids do not exist in this universe
notes: thank you anon for sending in this request! i went with the pitt knows reader is dennis's sister but no one knows she's in a relationship with frank (including dennis), if you'd like to join my permanent taglist please comment on this post ! enjoy!
word count: 2.5k
social media aspect: instagram and text messages
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Dennis had just put his phone down when the ambulance bay doors slid open. He knew exactly who was coming through, and even with your in-advance warning, he still couldn’t help but panic when you were wheeled through on the gurney looking pale and very much so in pain.
The sight of you immediately short-circuited every ounce of composure he usually carried in the Pitt. Your face had gone almost gray in the lighting, contrasting the dark scrubs you wore, your breathing shallow and uneven as one arm stayed clamped tightly to your side. Even from halfway across the station, he could see the train around your eyes every time the stretcher jostled as the EMTs steered you through. The paramedic walking beside you was talking, giving report in the steady cadence medical professionals used when they needed to stay calm, but Dennis barely processed half of it because all he could focus on was the fact that his older sister had been kicked hard enough by a horse to end up here.
“Hey, Dennis,” you muttered weakly when you spotted him moving toward the stretcher. “My favorite younger brother.”
“I’m your only younger brother.”
“And yet you still overachieve.”
Dennis ignored you entirely, already scanning you head to toe like he could somehow diagnose you by glaring hard enough. “You look terrible,” he breathed.
You let your head fall back dramatically against the headrest. “You’re actually being really hurtful right now.”
“The EMT just said you crashed into a fence.”
“Okay, well, in my defense, the fence came out of nowhere.”
The younger paramedic snorted loudly while adjusting the sides of the gurney. “The fence was stationary.”
“Can you not take the fence’s side in this?” you asked, wincing after because laughing sent a sharp stab through your ribs. “Ow. Nope. No one be funny for at least a hot minute.”
Dennis was already in tandem with the gurney as they pushed you deeper into the ER, concern bleeding through every attempt he made to stay clinical. “What happened exactly.”
You took a careful breath through your nose before answering. “Colic call. Six-year-old gelding. Sweetest horse on earth until a tractor backfired behind him.” Your mouth twisted at the memory. “Guess who was standing in the perfect spot to ruin the afternoon.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“No.”
“Hit your head?”
“No.”
“Shortness of breath?”
“Yes, but I’m pretty sure that’s because breathing currently sucks.”
One of the nurses nearby pointed toward an open room while another peeled back the blanket covering you to attach monitors. The controlled noise of the ER wrapped around you with beeping machines, squeaking shoes, and overlapping voices from neighboring rooms. Usually hospitals didn’t bother you much; between Dennis and your own job, medical environments had become weirdly normal over the years. But being the one in the gurney instead of standing beside four-legged patients was significantly less fun.
“Pain’s where?” the nurse asked.
You shifted your hand slightly against your side. “Right ribs. Feels like someone shoved a knife in there every time I inhale.”
“Scale of one to ten?”
“Currently?” You thought about it for a second. “Like . . . an eight, maybe nine if Dennis keeps staring at me like I’m dying.”
“You texted me ‘that your whimsy was still intact,’ and somehow that was supposed to make me feel better?” he shot back.
“I stand by that statement.”
“You got kicked by a horse.”
“Occupational hazard?”
“You work with thousand-pound animals because you love them,” he said incredulously, using air quotes with enough annoyance to make you smile. “Meanwhile I work with people, and statistically they’re less likely to break my ribs.”
“That feels debatable in this hospital.”
The nurse covering a laugh coughed into her sleeve while hooking leads onto your chest. Dennis looked severely unimpressed. But before he could say anything else, another voice cut through the room.
“What’ve we got?”
Dr. Robby stepped through the curtain with a practiced ease, tablet tucked beneath one arm as his attention moved quickly between the monitors and your chart. Unlike Dennis, the older man looked calm enough to keep the entire room grounded by himself, though you caught the brief flicker of recognition when he realized exactly who was lying in the bed.
“Well," he said drying after a beat, “I usually hear about family disasters after the shift, not during.”
You pointed weakly toward Dennis. “He’s being too panicky for a doctor.”
Dennis looked offended. “You could have internal bleeding, and you’re telling me I’m too panicked.”
“You should get a gold star or something. Do they give those out here?”
Robby huffed out something dangerously close to a laugh before stepping closer to examine your side. “All right, let’s see how bad this actually is. Mechanism of injury?”
“Horse kick to the right upper quadrant,” Dennis answered before you could.
“The horse was rude,” you corrected.
“The horse was a horse.”
“Wow. Victim blaming.”
Robby pulled on gloves, lips quirking up in amusement. “You always this talkative with possible fractures.”
“She gets worse with pain meds,” Dennis muttered, earning him an eyeroll.
“Good to know.” Robby looked back at you. “Any abdominal pain?”
You hesitated. “Mostly ribs.”
“Mostly?”
“There’s some soreness lower down, but I also fell into a fence, so I feel like my entire torso is filing complaints right now.”
“You’re concerningly descriptive.”
“I’m an equine vet. We describe things dramatically for a living.”
Robby carefully pressed along your abdomen first, methodically and steady. You managed the first few seconds before his hand moved slightly higher, and a sharp pain ripped through your side hard enough to pull a broken sound from your throat.
“Okay,” you gasped immediately, gripping the edge of the mattress. “Yep. Hate that one.”
Dennis was by your side within moments, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. “Easy.”
Robby’s expression pinched, all traces of humor fading as he watched your reaction. “Any pain in your shoulder? Dizziness? Nausea?”
“No shoulder pain. Little dizzy earlier, but I figured that was from getting hit by a horse.”
“You’d be surprised how often the two are linked.”
He continued the exam carefully, asking questions while watching for every involuntary flinch and hitch in your breathing. When he was done poking and prodding, he wheeled over an ultrasound, gelled up your stomach, and pressed the wand down near your ribs to make sure nothing inside you had ruptured. You knew enough about medicine to understand why everyone suddenly looked more serious. Internal bleeding was no joke, and blunt-force trauma from a horse kick had more than enough power behind it to cause real damage.
Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t stop your sense of humor.
“So,” you said after a moment, voice thinner now from pain, “hypothetically, if I did die—”
“You’re not dying,” Dennis interrupted.
“Hypothetically,” you repeated pointedly, “I think the horse shouldn’t be charged with involuntary manslaughter.”
Robby finally snorted. “You planning to get on the stand to defend him?”
“I would, but breathing’s become very inconvenient.”
“You’re still making jokes,” Dennis muttered under his breath, through the tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased once since you arrived.
“Hey,” you said quietly, eyes glancing over at him properly for the first time since arriving. “I’m fine.”
Dennis looked unconvinced until he breathed a heavy sigh of relief and visibly deflated when Robby announced there was no free fluid, ergo no internal bleeding. Robby stripped off one glove thoughtfully before nodding toward the monitors.
“Your vitals are stable; that’s good. But I want imaging to rule out internal injuries and get your ribs checked out.” His eyes flickered toward you again. “Because if you cracked one, every breath for the next month is going to make you deeply regret your career choices.”
You closed your eyes dramatically. “I knew I should’ve become a dermatologist.”
_______________________
Out at the nurses’ station, the Pitt watched as charts shuffled from hand to hand, listened to monitors beep irradicably, and groaned when a patient loudly insisted WebMD had diagnosed him correctly. In all the madness, Frank stood near the tracking board with a coffee that had long since gone cold, half-listening to Robby explain a consult while his eyes skimmed over room assignments.
He was on the cusp of picking a patient when he picked up on the end of Trinty’s sentence.
“. . . yeah, Huckleberry’s sister came in after being kicked by a horse.”
He froze.
Across from him, Dana blinked rapidly. “By an actual horse?”
“Yeah,” Trinity answered. “What other kind of horse is there?”
“I don’t know, Santos, maybe a metaphorical one?”
“She’s an equine vet,” Trinity continued, already invested in the story. “Cracked rib, maybe more bruising, but no internal bleeding, which honestly feels lucky considering—”
Frank was already moving before she finished her sentence.
Robby had looked up just in time to catch the abrupt change in direction. “Langdon—”
But Frank barely heard him. The words Huckleberry's sister and kicked by a horse had hit him like a defibrillator to the chest. Because you hadn’t texted him, which meant either you were unconscious—clearly you weren’t—or you’d been in enough pain not to think about it, which somehow felt worse.
The curtain to your room snapped open hard enough to make both you and Dennis look up. Frank stepped inside looking far more rattled than anyone in the hospital had probably ever seen him. His eyes landed on you almost instantly, blue hues scanning over the hospital gown, the monitor leads, the way you were sitting stiffly against the raised bed with one arm wrapped around you.
“What the hell?” he demanded breathlessly. “Why didn’t you text me?”
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Hi to you too.”
“You got kicked by a horse.”
“That seems to be the headline today, yeah.”
Frank crossed the room in three quick strides, all sharp concern and adrenaline, not even remotely thinking before one hand cupped gently against the side of your face. "Baby,” he muttered, voice softer now as his thumb brushed beneath your eye. “Are you okay?”
You softened under the candor in his voice. “I’m okay. Cracked rib. Bruised ego.”
“You were in an ambulance.”
“And now I’m here.” You gave him a tiny smile. “Conveniently close to you, actually.”
Frank exhaled shakily through his nose before leaning down and pressing a kiss against your lips.
At the motion, the room fell into the type of silence where you could literally hear an entire human soul exit their body for a second. Frank stilled against your lips before turning his head slowly, eyes meeting Dennis’s comically large ones.
For the deration he was in the room, Frank had completely forgotten about your younger brother and the possibility that he was still in the room with you, watching every move.
“Oh,” Frank said after a very long, intense pause.
You closed your eyes. “Surpriseeeee.”
Dennis stared at both of you like his brain had fully blue-screened. “What,” he said flatly, “is happening right now?”
Frank, to his credit, recovered faster than most people would have after a major secret had been spilled. He straightened, chest slightly puffed, though his hand stayed resting against your shoulder almost instinctively.
Dennis pointed between the two of you. ‘No, seriously. What. Is. This?”
You cracked one eye open carefully. “This is probably the worst way possible for you to find out I’m dating you coworker.”
“And you chose Frank out of all the options?”
Frank cleared his throat. “In fairness, we were going to tell you.”
“When?”
Both of you answered at the exact same time.
“Soon.”
“Eventually.”
Your brother looked personally betrayed. “I can’t believe this is happening right now.”
You winced as laughter tugged painfully against your ribs. “Please don’t make me laugh; I’m injured.”
Dennis said your name with the disappointment of a thousand generations. “You kept this from me for how long?”
“A few . . . months,” you admitted cautiously.
“A few—” Dennis looked over at the ER Ken. “You?”
Frank at least had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Yes.”
“You’re my coworker.”
“Yes.”
“You’re dating my sister.”
“Yes.”
Dennis leaned back in his chair slowly, staring at the ceiling for one long suffering moment like he was searching for divine patience. “I actually cannot believe this.”
“Technically,” you offered weakly. “You can believe it very easily.”
“Not helping.”
Frank finally relaxed just a bit, shoulders dropping just enough to show he wasn’t about to bolt for the nearest exit. If anything, the initial panic that had driven him there settled into something manageable now that he could see you were genuinely all right.
“You should have called me,” he said quietly, blue eyes returning to you.
You bit your bottom lip slightly. “I know. I just didn’t want you freaking out during shift. I can handle one panicking doctor not two.”
“To be fair, I’m still freaking out right now.”
Dennis looked between the two of you again, annoyance slowly being overtaken by reluctant realization. Because Frank’s attention never strayed far from you for more than a few seconds. Every glance checked your breathing, your posture, whether you were in pain. His hand kept drifting toward you unconsciously, touching your arm, your shoulder, your hairline like reassuring himself you were actually okay.
It was disgustingly genuine, and Dennis hated how Frank’s eyes melted as he looked at you.
“You’re serious about her?” he finally asked, arms crossing in front of his chest to make him appear bigger than he felt.
Frank didn’t even hesitate. “Very.”
“And you couldn’t tell me?”
“I wanted to.” Frank glanced briefly toward you before looking back at Dennis. “She was worried it’d make things weird at work.”
“It’s a bit too late for that; it’s already weird.”
“You’re right.”
Dennis narrowed his eyes. “If you hurt her—”
“I love her, Whitaker.”
Your breath caught while Frank looked almost surprised that he’d said it out loud so quickly, but he didn’t take it back. If anything, he just looked more certain after the fact, meeting Dennis’s stare evenly.
“I love her,” he repeated more firmly. “And I would never do anything to hurt her.”
“Oh,” you said quietly before you could stop yourself.
Frank glanced at you then, some of the tension easing from his face at the look in your eyes. You expected him to continue his speech, to pronounce his love for you again so that you could melt into his arms or pull him down for another kiss.
Instead, he said, “You got kicked by a horse,” like he was still emotionally stuck there.
You smiled despite the ache in your chest. “You keep saying that like it personally offended you.”
“It did personally offend me. The horse hurt my girlfriend. The audacity.”
A small giggle flowed from your lips. “Maybe I’ll let you play doctor on me later.”
Dennis groaned loudly, scrubbing both hands down his face. “This is horrible. I’m trapped in a medical drama where my sister is wanting to roleplay a patient as a patient with her doctor boyfriend—my coworker—who’s also a doctor!”
y/n.whitaker has posted
liked by dennis.whitaker, trinity.santos, gabby.val, flangdon, and 247 others
y/n.whitaker had a great day back at work! especially when Frankie brought my whole team drinks! ily 😘
tagged: flangdon
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gabby.val please keep him!
y/n.whitaker but of course! gotta have someone useful :D
dennis.whitaker okay so the guy you were soft launching this entire time was FRANK??
y/n.whitaker yep!
dennis.whitaker how could I have missed all the signs!
y/n.whitaker cause you were busying looking at old men
dennis.whitaker please do not air out my business in your instagram comments
y/n.whitaker but it's just so much fun
trinity.santos you could have done so much better 🙄
y/n.whitaker dw he's never going to take away our thursday karaoke sessions <3
trinity.santos if he ever THOUGHT of taking them away, I'd make sure he'd never be found
flangdon glad you're doing much better, baby ❤️ and I'm glad I could do something for you and your team!
y/n.whitaker we need you around more often. I think the horses liked you!
flangdon my job is horse 🐴
el.bee so glad to have you back at work doc!
y/n.whitaker I'm glad to be back too!
flangdon has posted
liked by dr.abbot, y/n.whitaker, mel.king, d.evans, and 351 others
flangdon so if I bought her a horse . . . do I get boyfriend of the year award?
tagged: y/n.whitaker
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dennis.whitaker she already has two back home 🙄
y/n.whitaker key words: back home
flangdon she asked so nicely, I just had to listen
dennis.whitaker she did the eyes didn't she?
flangdon yep. I lost the war before it even started.
mel.king nice!
y/n.whitaker definitely need you and becca out here for some good horse vibes
mel.king sounds amazing 🤩
trinity.santos no because y/n deserves a girlfriend
y/n.whitaker maybe I'll just be independent on my own!
flangdon I also make an amazing footrest if a boyfriend isn't needed
genre(s): angst, hurt- comfort, slow burn, fluff, smut (+18) (not this one tho)
au(s): childhood friends - to lovers, idol yoongi, normal vet reader, entertainment industry, denial and resentment.
Episode warnings: complicated relationship with food, description of diseases, curse words, family drama, grief, loss of loved ones, damaged mental health, a LOT of struggling.
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IMPORTANT: this fic contains a lot of sensitive topics touched upon explicitly. Please, if any of the tags trigger something in you, stop reading. You are more important, and there is much more content you can consume here. Take care please! ♡
enjoy!
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main masterlist
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“Y/N, honey~”
Okay, wait. Here. It was from here where you remembered.
You were at home, in the bed that was almost yours. You cry just for that, under your sheets. Lucky you could remain silent; it was almost an empty cry at that point. Automatically, you were crying because that’s what you have to do.
You were exhausted. And you remembered having a bad feeling about all that situation.
“Not ready~”
“It's been a week.” Your mom closed the door, gently sitting on your bed and touching your back with a care that made you cry more. You were already drowning. “Did you think about a therapist yet?”
No. For a lot of things.
The first and most important is that you were already starting to improve a week ago. You haven't felt this miserable in months now, almost three. You had started to get up, eat better, and cry less. You talked, you walked, you wanted to laugh, to go out, to go back to work. Everything was fine. You didn't need a therapist.
Oh well, you did. At least you thought about going to one when you were already feeling better. You had the energy to want to be well and for this not to happen. Because the second was that now you didn't have the energy to try to lift yourself up in every way possible.
It was too heavy. But why. Why else would you have relapsed?
“How can you all be so… fine about it.” It wasn't retaliation, because everyone in that house was like that at the time, but you seemed to be the only one still there, and that frustrated you so much that it made things worse.
“We’re not.” You know. “We just know how to-“
“Live with the pain.” You end the sentence, revealing your face slowly to your mother. She looked tired and worried, but she still looked at you with love.
She brushed your hair out of your face, sighing and wiping away your tears softly. It was the only look of pity that you didn’t hate. You allowed it because you didn't have the heart to tell her that it bothered you. She was a mother; she couldn't help it.
“Your brother always told me to take care of you once he died.” She nodded, starting to cry. You haven't seen her cry in a long time. “He assured me that even if I were his mother, I would be able to understand it sooner and miss him differently than you. It's questionable, but that’s what he thought.” She took a breath, as if she had suddenly forgotten to breathe. What was he thinking when he said something like that to a mother? Many times you thought that Kija had no brains to boast about.
"'Don't let her die like this too.' " She quoted, “ ‘If I see her, whatever I end up to, I'm gonna hit her until she comes back to life." I’ll never forget how he told me that.” You smile a little. He also told you that in person days before.
“I've been remembering that non-stop all these months, but I realized that in the end, Y/N, I can't help you if you don't. Not because I don't want to; it's because I'm human, and I don't do miracles, honey.” You nodded like that didn’t hurt you, just because it was true. “I came here to let you know that we love you, we understand, and that if maybe I can’t do anything more for you, if you have a plan, I will always be here for you to help. It’s up to you from here, but you’re not alone.”
He prepared you for his death; everybody knows, what you were doing.
Why now. You were starting to make friends with the feeling that you were fine. You were in that stage of grief that isn’t too tragic.
What might have made you remember the loss as a thing in your life?
Of fucking course.
It took three days for you to use your little desire to continue like this and do something about it. Seun opened his eyes when he saw you entering the kitchen at breakfast, watching your movements cautiously.
“Where’s everybody.”
He blinks, chewing the cereal that was left in his mouth.
“All of them are in school; the rest of them are working.”
“What are you doing here, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“You still live at your parent's house without working? At 28?” He smiles. You were making fun of yourself as you said your age instead of his. He continued eating, calmer. “Embarrassing.”
“Guilty.” He says. “I needed the time, though. Things have been complicated lately.”
You looked at each other, and you thanked him for the gesture with your gaze, taking out a cup to make yourself some tea. Seun worked in Seoul. You didn't see him much, but he had been traveling home very often to see how everyone was doing in general after what happened, to see Jae too, and to be with his family more. Paradoxically, he was a lawyer, a very good and serious one, exaggeratedly contrary to what you were seeing right now, who wore a horrible duck shirt that he had worn as pajamas for as long as you can remember and always left at home, eating colored cereals in the bowl of one of your younger brothers.
When you went, nothing really belonged to you; all your things were already in your respective houses, but there was always room for you. Seun, being the second oldest, had left his room empty a long time ago, but he wore clothes that he had left in case he went.
Being there was like going back in time; you had taken your mother's clothes because you didn't go out much, and the ones you had there were no longer to your taste. The noises in the morning, hearing your mother sing from the kitchen, and seeing how they still danced together from time to time
It was nice.
You ended up eating the remains of yesterday's dinner with him at the inn, in silence. It was difficult for you to eat while like this; it was as if something in your chest prevented you from feeling any kind of human need. You left half the plate, and Seun after seeing that, took a breath.
“Eat that, and I’ll give you a prize.”
"Uh~ surprise me.”
You settled into the chair, ready to really listen to whatever it was. Seun was… you know.
“Dad asked me to take care of the garden outside.”
You frowned deeply, and you laughed because he was serious. “Great. Like when you were seventeen. I woke up with you complaining about it.” He made a face. “How would that be a prize?”
“It’s kind of fun, though. How about you come with me, hm? You don't have to do anything; eat that and just get some sun.
You didn’t eat it. But you go out still.
You didn’t even get dressed; you were still in pajamas, sitting on the grass, watching your brother cut leaves to shape bushes. Your father still took great care of that place; you could see that it was even better than before. He quite enjoyed it. You used to sit and look at him this way when you were younger.
“Didn’t know this could be emotional for you. You’re unbelievable.”
You laughed, wiping away your tears. It was stupid; you felt better, honestly.
“Sorry.”
“Sure.” He reached out to place a flower in your hair. It was small, white, the ones that fell from the tree that was right in the middle of everything. You smiled.
“How are you?”
“Better” you were, at least right now.
"Why did you get up today? What’s the occasion, hm?"
He walked away, beginning to pick up the remains on the floor. He was done.
“I just don’t want to feel terrible today.”
“Exiting.” He says this, stretching his back. “You know how hard it’s to force yourself to do that, kid? I am very happy to see you today. It's so brave of you. I'm serious.” It gave you a chill; you weren't used to hearing him talk like that. You simply nodded. “Here.” He gave you another flower; you play with it in your hands. “I'm going in to make lunch; are you coming with me? I can call you when it’s ready.
"No, I'm going to stay here."
Because it was quiet, you heard birds, and it didn't feel like your bed. You were a little desperate when your mother told you to go outside because you would feel better. The last thing you wanted was to get up, but you also hated that she was right.
You didn't open your eyes until you heard a noise that scared you, and it was almost bizarre to see Yoongi, standing with a garbage bag in his hand, looking at you without knowing what to do, giving all meaning to your search for triggers.
You blink. Maybe you were hallucinating.
Your gardens were together. His family hasn’t moved in all these years. The only thing you knew was that it was their property now, not like yours, which still rented the place. It had more floors than it used to, and instead of having old red wood walls like it used to, it was white and pretty. Yoongi had made sure that his family lived well. Many years ago, the house had been in constant repair; inside, it must have looked different too, but its patios still had no division.
Because they were neighbors, best friends, and family, sometimes they got together right there; why separate it? If they completely trusted each other, they could see each other more that way.
Why was Yoongi still in Daegu.
You couldn't find enough reasons for him to still be there. He must have been very busy doing his things, far, far from there, far from you.
And it was overwhelming to see him in that garden where you once saw him. It was difficult for you to make yourself believe that this person brought back that ugly feeling of looking like a lost cat.
You touch your chest.
He bowed. You had to cover the sun with one hand to be able to look at him better, and respond in the same way.
“You’re still here.” You say it quietly.
Yoongi had those eyes, unkind ones.
That and a sleepy look. He had always had them. If you hadn't known him since forever, you were sure that you would never have spoken to him, and if he did, you wouldn’t feel like speaking to him or maintaining any type of contact with him just because of his look. It was heavy, as if he was constantly having the worst time of his life, but by nature. His father had the same eyes and the same attitude; they communicated nothing with their expressions. At least that was what you knew—what you had stuck with.
But he looked at you in a way you didn't understand right now. That was one thing you didn't understand about the new Yoongi. Before, you used to catch him better because, although he expressed nothing with his eyes, you were the only one who could know how; you could read him in a certain way, and now he was just strange.
Softer. Almost warm but intimidating.
“Hm.” He didn’t move. “What are you doing, Park?" It was a mocking question, almost as if your brother had asked it, but with less emotion and coming from him, of course.
“Sunbathe.” You look dumb trying to look at him. The sun wouldn't let you. “It’s healthy from time to time," he tilted his head. “You need a little bit too. You’re too pale.”
He smirks, looking away, almost like taking the courage to ask. “Can I sit there, then?”
You analyzed the space with your eyes narrowed because you were trying to identify the natural division that existed between his patio and yours. Right on the floor, a few meters from you, there was a fairly thin cement line that divided the two spaces. You pointed your finger at it, moving a little closer so he could see it.
“Don't cross that line, and you'll be fine.”
Yoongi also squinted his eyes, looking at what could barely be seen on the ground. It took him a few seconds, but he managed to spot it and neutralize his gaze, lowering the hand he was using to block the sun coming from above. He snorted before approaching in silence.
You had forgotten what he looked like, and you wanted to say that during the day, with the sun on his face and casual, white clothes, he looked even better. He glows, and you want to punch him in the face.
“You don't fit in here anymore.” You said it simply. He leaned on his hands, leaning his body back, understanding that you didn't mean it with bad intentions. It was simply an observation, but he still didn't quite understand it.
“What do you mean?”
“Here, in Daegu.” He loses his eyes. “You look... expensive.”
You made him laugh unintentionally. Genuinely, he even sat properly so he could look at you. You were facing each other, a considerable distance away, divided by a line of asphalt covered by grass, but there it was.
“What?” That question makes you feel stupid.
“I don’t know, just- you look like you belong to another place. Too handsome and well dressed to be here.
“Ah~ handsome, huh?”
“Yes, Yoongi, too handsome.” It was a fact; he wasn’t stupid. He knows he’s attractive. You played with the flower between your fingers, feeling your heart begin to pound. You didn't even know why; you were sure he knew it wasn't his intention. You heard him laugh again. “You know what I mean.”
At least, you hope so.
“Maybe I don’t belong here anymore.” He says. When you looked up, he was playing with the grass between his fingers. “I don't feel welcome, either.”
“What are you doing here, then.”
He looked at you from there, raised his eyes for a few seconds, then closed them again. “I want to spend time with my family before enlisting. Hyung it’s going on his honeymoon in a few days, and... well, I'm running out of time.”
You had forgotten that.
You had to fight a lot not to ask when he was leaving, because it was two years, and although you hadn't seen him ten years ago, in a way you also had him constantly in your face, always. Now you wouldn't see him at all.
It was none of your business; why would you ask?
“That’s good.”
“You’re still living in he-?”
“Y/N, honey, hello. I thought you had returned to Busan since I didn't see you leave the house. You look tired; are you okay?”
You jumped for that.
“Hello, Mrs. Min. I’m, thank you.”
You had always been surprised by how intimidating that woman seemed to you and how much she loved you. She seemed more loving right now; maybe her age had made her softer, but in her younger days, every time she spoke to you, it was terrible for you. She always spoke to you as if she were making fun of you, with the most beautiful voice you had ever heard and the most studied words there were for a cordial conversation. Over time, you learned that it was genuine happiness, like right now.
“Then why-“
“Mom.” Yoongi stops her, and you realize.
You looked bad, perhaps unstable enough if it was at first glance. You did look tired; you hadn't slept well in months; you were still in your pajamas; and your hair was tied up. You hoped it wouldn't matter to you; you wish it were that way.
You had a flower on your head, at least.
“It's okay.” You told him, more for him than for her, and he looked at you, remaining silent for a few seconds. When you heard the woman's voice again, you were still sharing a look, surprisingly.
“Sorry. I was about to go to your house. I know your mom's working, but Seun it’s at home, isn’t he?” You finally looked at her and nodded, smiling slightly at her.
“Yeah.” It was weird, almost like she was checking to make sure you weren't alone. “Do you want me to leave her a message, Mrs. Min?”
“Oh no! It’s okay. I'll go tonight, but also," you take a deep breath. “It was just to invite you all to dinner tomorrow. Jae will be leaving in a few days, and the rest of his time will be spent with friends, so we can have dinner as a family.”
“I- don’t know. I’ll ask them-“
“I'm telling you, honey.” And you wish she didn’t. “Would you like to come? I know… You've had a tough time, and in the whole year you've been here, I've only seen you twice. We want to help.”
There it is. And just because you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, you smiled slightly and nodded. You only had those types of reactions at the beginning, when the topic was mentioned. You hate to have them again now. It was directly a discomfort that made you want to sink into the ground because it made you cry instantly and peel off your skin in one go. It was extremely uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want. Just think about it, okay?”
You said your goodbyes; she kissed your forehead and left, leaving you two alone again in an awkward silence. Yoongi didn't have pity in his eyes now, but it was as if he had been reminded of something he had done wrong.
“I can tell them you couldn’t make it.”
“No need to.” You tore up the grass by a handful. Why did everyone think you couldn't do anything for yourself? “I will go. I miss your father's cooking.”
“Okay.” Another silence. “I’m sorry about that. She doesn't have any bad intentions; she cares. She doesn't even treat me the way she treats you."
You smiled a little, and for some reason, your heart started to beat less hard. Just as fast, but it didn't make you want to die. And you didn't like that.
“No problems.” You say, getting up. "It looks like I do fit in here anyway.” You shook yourself for nothing exactly; it was just to feel less uncomfortable as he watched your movements, and you looked at him as you walked to the entrance of your house. He had a lopsided smile, soft eyes, and the flower Seun had given you between his fingers. “you still have twenty minutes left.”
He smiled at you, knowing that you were running away. Still, he didn't stop you.
That was one. The next one was a little less exciting.
—
You weren’t an events' person.
Not because you felt too bad to attend social things; in fact, you had discovered that it was very efficient at not making you think too much. Being alone was the worst thing you could do, but you didn't like going. It felt almost like a charity event since Kija died; at least that's how it felt. Seun told you it wasn't like that at all, but you feel like it.
Like a charity object.
They give you extra food, extra attention, extra compliments, and the comfiest chair. And it was nice sometimes, but today you didn’t want that to happen.
"So... you want the red one or the purple one?” You held them both up, showing them to your sister in the mirror.
“What do you think?”
“I think… I like the purple one.” She didn't seem to like your decision, so you had to convince her. “ Look, it has flowers and sparkles inside. “You’ll look cool, don’t you think?”
“But it doesn't match my outfit~” Hyunji whines, and you smile, pushing away the purple hair tie to comb her hair into a ponytail again. You'd end up convincing her anyway.
“What do you mean? You have purple here.” On her shirt. It was yellow on its own, but it had purple bubbles, and even though the basic style doesn’t work like that, it seemed to make sense to her child's brain.
“You’re right… Okay!” She says, playing with her doll again.
Living with children always makes you wish life was that easy sometimes.
Hyunji has a twin too. It was because your father was a twin of another; the gene was there. They were the youngest in the family, and you had been combing their hair all year. It was complicated because every time they did it, they were together, and they reminded you of the dynamic you had had with Kija your whole life.
At that point, it didn't hurt you so much anymore. The first few times, it had been complicated for you to see, but now the other twin was in the other room, and she had no one else to talk to other than her doll. Nara, your other sister, enters the room.
“You’ll go?” You were dressed.
"Uh-hu,” you responded, checking that everything was in order in the mirror.
“Yoongi will be there.”
"I know." You spoke with the purple garter between your teeth, so your voice came out funny. “Are you going?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Yoongi will be there.” She rolled her eyes as she turned to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, leaning against the wall. You laughed softly.
“Not you too.”
Nara wasn't particularly a fan of his group, at least not at first. Since you hadn't been paying much attention, you didn't really know what the story was like, but apparently, she was starting to listen to them recently, and she genuinely didn't believe that this was the Yoongi she remembered. Now all her siblings were bothering her for refusing to do so.
“I didn’t know! Stop. It's almost overwhelming to see him leave the house sometimes. Last week, I met him twice! Here! In this town, Y/N! He looks like-“
“He doesn't belong in here.” You mumbled, and Nara nodded at you, wrinkling her nose.
“Nothing good ever happens here; this is too much for me.”
And for you too. But you didn’t say that out loud.
“Go on, kid. Call your sister.” Hyunji thanked you and ran off to find the other twin. You stretched your back.
“Can you tell me what happened between you two?” You scoff, sorting out the chaos you had made to find the purple ribbon in the box your mother had for them.
“Why do you want to know? It’s not that exciting.”
“There's no way.” She got comfortable, almost as if emphasizing her words. “Everybody in this family knows it's something happening to him and you, but nobody asked because they say you stopped crying about it like yesterday.” You laughed at the exaggeration. "Tell me."
“Well.” You took Ara, the other girl who had already been talking about how she wanted her hair, to sit her in the chair that you had placed on the sink counter, so you could see them better. Your mother always did it, and you didn't understand why. It was too unsafe. "The same thing as your sister?”
"No! I want them... like this.” She held up two fingers to you, and you nodded, wetting his hair and carefully untangling it. Ara liked to wear her hair long, so it took you longer, and you were already starting to get tired.
“We were friends, best friends, and things ended. That's all."
It took a second for the teen to sigh and start complaining about how little information you had given her. But you didn't like to talk about it. Not because you couldn't, but because it was something you already had behind you, very far behind. You didn't feel like it was any use to you to talk to anyone about it.
“Did you two kiss at least?"
“Yeah, we did."
Now, she looks excited.
“So you two date!”
“No. We didn’t.”
“Hm, date, but didn’t formalize anything?”
“No.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“Hm~ no.”
“Fuckbuddys?”
“Jesus Nara. How old are you? Twelve?”
She rolled her eyes, briefly looking at her cell phone”
"Haha. Why are you responding like Seun now? Don't do that; we have more than enough with one.” You responded to something the youngest was telling you, and you handed her a jar of cotton balls that she was asking for. “And I'm seventeen. “So you can tell me if you two were only fu-”
"Well, she, right here it's seven, Nara. So don’t say that ever again.” You saw her grimace in the mirror. “And we were friends. Best friends. Friends don’t- yeah.”
At least that’s what he told you. That you were friends.
“Friends don’t kiss either.”
And you told him that, too.
“I know.”
“Hm.” It seemed as if she didn't want to ask more, perhaps knowing that with the background she had, nothing could end well.
“I’m okay, though. I don't see the need to talk about it now. Yes, I suffered a lot because of it, but that's it; things are the way they are now.”
You had even realized that being around him didn't affect you like you thought. On the day of your wedding, you were sensitive; you knew it; you were predisposed to have a bad time. Now that you are at home with your family, what could go wrong?
“Do you plan to go dressed like that, then?”
“Hm?” You looked at yourself in the mirror in front of you, starting your sister's last ponytail. “What's wrong with it?”
“You’re kidding? You’re literally using mom's clothes.”
Yes, but because yours doesn’t fit in with you like they used to.
“I think it's pretty.” You defend yourself, but not really, finishing your job and taking the creature down from the inn. You heard her say thank you as Nara took your arm. "What-“
“Y/N, I won't allow you to go see your celebrity-famous ex dressed like that, without makeup and wearing ladies' shoes. You even did your hair! Come here.”
“He’s not-“
“Yes, wherever.”
She ended up dressing you in your clothes. Nice clothes of yours that you haven't worn in a while, but they made you feel pretty. Then she tried to do your makeup herself, but you knew how to do it yourself, so you ended up giving in. Your mother scolded them because they were late, and Nara left home with a smile on her face.
And you look beautiful. Yoongi thinks that when he saw you enter the house with one tween in your arms and a baby blue cardigan on you,
Of course, you were wearing baby blue.
“Do you think Seun will hit me in the face tonight if he gets drunk enough?” Yoongi asked his brother, receiving the beer he offered him. They could stop by to say hello later. The Parks had always been a lot of people; they had time to greet their parents first. Eun snorts before Jae can say anything.
“He doesn’t have to get drunk for that. You’re currently hurting the two people who matter most to him just by your existence. What do you think will happen?"
He agreed with a gesture, opening the bottle and taking a long drink. Yoongi didn't really like beer, but he would need it today.
“Well, I think,” Jae emphasized himself, shoving another beer into Yoongi's chest for him to hold. He was pulling out some to offer, he assumed. “that you can always talk to them to make them understand. Just like you did with the two of us.”
Make them understand. The problem was that neither of you seemed open to listening, which was fine, but oh well.
Yoongi had taken it upon himself all those days to fix as much as he could in that stretch of time. He had a different way of thinking and handling things, and he was too old to have unresolved issues. He didn't know if it was because he had time before he left or because Daegu and his house, his parents, and the streets where he walked for so long, dragging a useless dream, brought his emotions to the surface.
With you, it was different because he saw you, and it was difficult for him to remember all that he did wrong.
He had been thinking. Enough to have him overwhelmed in so few days, and while apologizing to Eun, for example, for having been so absent in her and her brother's lives, or to his parents, for... exactly the same thing, he saw you, and he knew that it wasn't just him who had to ask for forgiveness.
“They’re good at listening and apologizing for things they have done before. You're a lucky bastard to have to apologize to the most understanding people on earth.”
Eun had found it difficult to forgive him. She spent maybe a week talking to him, thinking about it, talking about it with Jae, and coming to the conclusion that, in fact, he had changed a lot and had given him an opportunity that he was sure he could fulfill. Yoongi was genuinely in another stage of his life, but having things to take care of was exhausting.
He realized more things that night at dinner as well. He didn't know the youngest members of the family, but they turned out to be quite shy compared to all of you, and talking to your family in general was quite easy. Not only that, but he didn't feel strange, out of place, or treated differently for who he was now; catching up with your parents and siblings was nice. Yoongi felt good”
“I would love to, Mr. Park, but I um, I return to Seoul tomorrow. I have commitments there before I leave for service.”
Nara had her birthday in a few days, and they were going to throw her a party. They were inviting Yoongi. He didn't know why his throat hurt from saying no lately. He was never a complacent person.
“Tomorrow? That soon? Will you enlist soon?”
It was impressive how those had been the first words Seun had spoken to Yoongi all night.
“No, it’s- not about that. I have work stuff. recording and practice.”
After that, he started answering questions about his life, which wasn't necessarily a bother. It was okay; he knew your family didn't have bad intentions either. He noticed it.
He also noticed that you barely touched your food.
“Can we talk?” You asked him when you were clearing up the dishes in the kitchen. ‘Sure’ and you took him outside because there was too much noise inside.
"So... you return to Seoul tomorrow."
You look disturbed, but he doesn’t hurry you.
“Hm.” He responded in affirmation. “My last concert is soon, and I have things to take care of before that.”
“Awesome.”
You look untouched by the situation. By everything. As if you were there by protocol. You hadn't laughed genuinely all night; you just smiled and responded kindly, briefly at that, knowing how much you liked to talk.
He didn't want to say that it had to affect you, but it was as if you had no reaction in your body. Quite the opposite of when he saw you at marriage, where you were with all your feelings on the surface. And he was worried. He has no right to be, though.
“I thought you missed my father’s food.” He tries, and you look confused at him.
“I did it.”
“You barely touch it.”
“Well, that’s none of your business.”
Oh, well.
You covered your face. Yoongi heard you sigh.
“Sorry.” You say.
He nodded, calm. At least trying.
“Didn’t mean to be disrespectful, either. It’s okay.”
Then he waited.
Enough. It was almost ten minutes of pure silence in which you thought about what you would say, and he smoked because you made him nervous and made him want to be doing anything but being aware that you were there.
"Okay," you say. Your words sounded loose. As if you were complaining about something. “Before seeing you that day, at the wedding," you start. “I was fine. I was feeling okay. I was- eating very well, I was starting to go out more, and I had this... silly feeling in my chest that maybe this situation wouldn't mean the end of my days, my life, and that I could do things by myself.”
Yoongi settled back in his place, attentive. It was just that he didn't understand, but he wanted to.
“I knew you would be there.”
“Yeah. Jae, he mentioned something to me.” After the weeding, of course. He would’ve liked to know that, too.
“Yes. So I mentally prepared myself for that, to see you, because it affects me to do so, and I thought I had handled it well that day. It didn't add up to me, because I spent weeks thinking about it and preparing myself for things that didn't happen and would have made everything much worse. I felt bad again, and I started to think a lot about... everything. About Kidja's death and what would happen to me without him in my life. It wasn't even about you. I had gone back to my beginning of grief, Yoongi. And I didn't understand why all the effort I had made to be well was gone so suddenly.”
He blinks. A lot of times.
“I’m- not understanding.“
“I have this theory.” Okay. “When you left, I had this same reaction. I don't really want to compare them because they are different in very big ways, but it reminded me of a lot of things, and seeing you there... I wanted to ask you not to leave. Not again, not like everyone has done it recently, so I can feel better.” His heart was a mess; this information was too much. “And it's stupid, because I don't know you, and I can't trust you, and the fact that you're here does me any good.”
“Y/N.” He insisted.
“I just want to put an end to this.” He could swear you were shaking. “Forever.”
Yoongi's head was going very fast; he felt somewhere else, something surreal. He had lived peacefully for a long time; his heart almost burst out when he heard you say a few more things, like you didn't blame him for anything, but you needed to know that he wouldn't be there anymore, and when you wished him a good life, he went a little crazy because you were leaving.
“Wait!” He was in a rush for some reason. “Just like that? May I… apologize for everything at least?”
He saw how many things went through your head, and he was desperate not to be able to know what. You took your distance before you talked.
“Yoongi, I don’t care.”
Now he was mad. You were acting like a child; resentment was speaking for you. He didn't blame you, at least not entirely, because he knew you were smarter than this. You had more valid, more accurate, and even stronger answers, but you were deciding to run away.
That wasn't what really bothered Yoongi, but the fact that you didn't tell him directly, like you would.
“If you want to live, then do it. But give me a voice too; I'm involved too.”
You snorted and crossed your arms to look at him with a smile on your face.
His blood boiled.
“You know what? Forget it. Have a good night.”
“Oh fantastic.” You move fast, getting closer to his garden but staying on the other side of the small line that divides it. Yoongi stopped, now not willing to listen to anything, nor to say anything constructive, really. “So you’re mad now?”
“It’s just—you're so stubborn! I’m trying to do something here!”
“And what do you want me to do, Yoongi?! Hug you and dry your fucking celebrity tears and tell you that the fact that you broke my heart like it wasn’t a big deal was okay? Oh, so now you want to be involved. You’re living tomorrow! And you want to fix things now? Shut up. You’re doing the exact same thing you did when you left.”
Your voice broke off as you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. Yoongi sighed, closing his eyes.
“We both did things wrong; I just wanted to talk about it before… that's all.”
“Everyone suddenly wants to talk about it.” It wasn't cold outside. Daegu wasn't a cold place, but you hugged yourself and cringed as if it were. “Everyone asks me what happened between us and why we stopped talking. Your father apologized to me in your place today too; he told me that whatever happened, he hoped we could fix it.”
Yes, I had told him that too, since it happened years ago, honestly.
“But I don't see any sense in it. Why talk about something that is already broken? Why do you insist? I just want to close this, okay? It was already dead; leave it like this.”
Yoongi took a moment, because it was true. But you look too real in front of him, and that makes him weak.
“So we can heal, can't we? That’s why you are doing this.” Your eyes look at him. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I had no choice.”
"Yes, you did.” You cut him off. “Do things right, or do things wrong. Those were your options. And you chose.”
Because you had always understood that he was leaving and that Yoongi had bigger things to do outside that place, and you were happy about that, but he didn't tell you until one day before he left forever.
He was completely blinded by having signed recently, by having an opportunity, by doing what he liked, and by the promises that were being made to him. Leaving everything behind, his parents, who did not believe in him, his "friends” who constantly told him that he would not make it, in that place that hurt him so much only excited him.
And unfortunately, you found yourself involved just by being part of that place.
“I know. And I’m really sorry.” You closed your eyes, and you denied it slightly. As if you didn't want to hear those words. “I understand that I made a mistake back then; I was young and dumb, and I- didn’t- I’m not the same person right now. I’m really sorry. I mean it.”
So... insignificant.
“Why.” And that was the question he didn’t want to hear. “So you can feel better about yourself, or because you're doing me a favor? Why now, Yoongi. If you hadn't seen me that day at the wedding, would you have traveled all the way here just to apologize before you left?”
No. The answer was no.
It wasn't something Yoongi thought about much. In all those years, he had convinced himself that he had done what he had done because sometimes in life, you have to be selfish to prioritize your well-being as a person. To put himself first over others because he had a dream, and fulfilling it meant sacrifices.
He hadn't done anything wrong, you know?
Now he apologized only because he saw you sick, and he felt guilty because he knew that it had affected you more than him. He was stupid because he blindly believed that the fact that he apologized would mean something less in your life, even if he didn't know how important you were to the whole thing itself. And you were sad and depressed, and you had big dark circles in your eyes, and you weren't eating well. You didn't really smile, you had a hard time getting up, and he hadn't seen you leave the house even once in all the time you had been there.
He felt responsible.
He did it because it left him and only him clean. He was being selfish.
He kept quiet. He wouldn't admit it out loud.
“I spent nine years of my life on pause waiting for you to care enough to come back to this damn city, so we could fix things. To talk about it. But that was nine years ago, and it’s a little too late right now.”
"I'm,” he stops, getting close to you, pressing his words in his throat so as not to have to raise his voice. “apologizing.”
“Well, you’re not forgiven.” He tense.
“For something I made when I was a teen? I don’t know, but you made some dumb shit back then too.
You kept quiet about that. It was true.
“You don’t seem to mind too much, though.”
“And what do you know about how I feel?”
Because maybe the fact that it didn't stop his life completely was something, but ignoring it didn't mean that it didn't hurt him either.
“Nothing.” A whisper. “I just- I don’t know, okay? But that stupid thing you did as a teen still hurts me and haunts me to this day, and you- I continued to believe that you would have the decency to come to my twin’s funeral. it’s- all that, everything, that’s just my fault.” You firmly acknowledged it. “But I would’ve to be so stupid to believe that you are still that person, because people change, and we were very young, and that’s fine, but Yoongi.” You touch his chest, or at least you had the intention because you didn't get to do it. You stopped and backed away a little. “The problem here is that you still don't care enough. You didn't even want to come here of your own free will... And that's fine, but don't come and- try to talk to me as if that were the case.
Your eyes soften, and so do Yoongi’s, because you do that when you want to cry.
When you cry, you’re completely harmless; that’s what he knows. If you cry out of anger, happiness, or even just empathy, any emotion automatically transforms into sadness. You leave yourself vulnerable; that's why you didn't allow it in arguments; it was losing instantly.
So you put yourself back together.
“That's fucked up, Min, and I don't need to forgive you to live in peace; I don’t want this; I don’t need your apologies; I don’t want to have any kind of contact with you because I don’t want you in my life anymore.”
“Then why are you still here?"
He can smell your perfume from how close you two are to each other now.
So he realizes.
It was difficult for him to have you so close. Because he felt the heat of your body, and your breathing was agitated. He remembered the touch from when he touched you at the wedding and squeezed his hand so as not to claim it again. His eyes traveled to your lips accidentally, twice trying to stop them without success, nor to his body as he moved forward, seeking to kiss you directly. He stops himself with all the strength he had and a little more, but you didn't move either.
You were both too dazed, feeling the tension in the air. As Yoongi looked at your lips again, this time closer to you, as you licked yours, trying to feel something. He breathed hard, like a bull, feeling almost dizzy. Yoongi had never wanted something so much in his life, and you weren't helping.
You looked down too, raising big eyes to the level of his before whispering, ever so slightly, to answer his question, and Yoongi couldn't believe you existed, looking like this.
He was fucked up.
“I still have a lot of appreciation for you, Yoongi.” You say. “And I respect you enough to do things right.” He closes his eyes when you distance yourself. There was nothing more to do. “I'm still here, but doing all this, doing things you don't want to do, lying to yourself, lying to me?... you're losing me.”
His eyes were wide open. You looked at him with sadness because you were crying.
“Leave it as it is, and keep the small part of me you still have with you. Because if you keep trying, I’m gone.”
And maybe that was what you both needed. A closure, a proper goodbye.
The problem was that neither of you had said goodbye, technically.
-
Big big brother, lovely and always available, Seun 💪🏻 - 1:32
‘How is it?’
‘Spooky?’
1:40
‘u’re allergic to dust, kid. You need a hand? 👋🏻👋🏻’
There were so many things you regretted in life.
One of them was to regain the closeness you had with Seun having so many brothers to choose from. Because he was sweet, yes. Maybe if you didn't have him there (knowing that you often live in fear of losing the people you love, it was very clear to you), you would miss him a lot, but he could be very annoying at times.
Don't judge yourself by the contact name by the way. He had set himself up that way, and every time you tried to change him, he found a way to make it longer.
You - 1:41
‘Sure, want you here in ten minutes.’
Big big brother, lovely and always available, Seun 💪🏻 - 1:43
‘Don't tempt meee’
‘You know I’m crazy, right?’
You stopped him immediately, telling him that you were fine, that everything looked fine, and that he shouldn't worry.
It was a two-hour trip. And it wasn't a lie that you were okay.
Moving to Busan was your idea; maybe two years before Kija relapsed and got sick, he wouldn't stop getting worse. He followed you with nothing in mind because, unlike you, he hadn’t been able to study anything. His health was weak, and that weakened his mind as well.
You wanted to get him out of that mentality, to meet people, to go out, and perhaps to look for a job that would help him understand that he could do things well. And you did it, or, well, he did. You didn't see much of the many people he had plans with; he worked in a café near your apartment that was still there; they had even remodeled it. He had a boyfriend, money; you two were together, you always laughed.
It was when you began to set up your clinic (because that was what you had gone to Busan for, aside) in the city that he began to cough very lightly, almost like a cold, and when you took him to see the place where you would start to build your first dream, he passed out at night when they were trying to clean the place. After that, he didn't stop coughing until that same cough took his breath away completely.
You thought he would get better, he looked weak but fine. He talked, he ate, and he didn't sleep as much as he does when he gets that sick. The only thing that told you that he was really struggling was the blood in his cough and that sometimes, when he got up to go to the bathroom, he would call you out of breath because just getting out of bed was too much for him. He was in serious condition, but you didn't think you would have him with you for so little time.
“Open that thing, Y/N. You have everything you need. You’re smart, you’re pretty, and your lungs work wonderfully. Sorry you don’t have any excuses.”
He spent the last days of his life there, in that apartment that you didn't want to return to, because now your whole family wasn't sleeping on the floor, nor was your mother's voice singing to him while everyone was sleeping, and he couldn't do it because the pain was killing him slowly, nor was your father offering you help to open that damn clinic.
Kija died two days before opening it, and he swore he would be there when you did. You believed him.
The door to his room was closed now. When you came into the apartment, it smelled musty, and there were many letters on the floor that were passed under the door while you were gone. His shoes were on the shoe rack at the entrance; your mother must have forgotten them when she cleaned, so you sat there when you arrived; you weren't ready.
It was when Seun spoke to you that you decided to enter the things you were missing.
And you clean the place. You dusted, packed your things, and called the clinic to inform that you were going to return to work that week. You were the boss anyway.
Maybe it was you deceiving yourself, but the more you looked for discomfort within yourself, you couldn't find it. You thought that facing that place would be more complicated, but there you were.
In Busan, and in Busan you didn't want to die.
“I trust him.” Kija could barely speak; he was intubated and medicated, sitting right where you were now, waiting for the medication to completely wear off.
You had stopped talking about it hours ago, that was when you understood that your confession had been hanging around in his head.
‘I have been thinking about Yoongi lately. I think I'll- need him when you’re gone.’
“Text him.” He told you.
You had already told him it was impossible. You had even told him possibilities of a schedule of imaginary activities that he would have at that moment.
“Kija, forget it.”
“I trust him.” He repeated. “He’ll come. He cares about you still, I know.”
You had believed him, and you had smiled slightly at the thought of a possibility.
Now you’re disappointed. It was dimly lit, it was starting to get cold, and your hands covered your face because, wrapped in, now, a gray room, you were giving Yoongi tears for the first time in years.
And Yoongi's tears were different from Kija's. They felt old, meaningless, but they weren’t automatic.
You sob, because maybe this way you could do this the last time you cry about it.
i'm thinking like maybe she's not really a large animal vet at first (again... self indulgent) but a few new tom cats make their way into the barn and billy gets them in his truck to take to the vet and neuter so they don't cause any trouble and oh her walking into the exam room and he's just like... wow... and tipping his hat like such a gentleman
PHANTOM THIS IS SO HOT AND ALSO I HOPE THIS HAPPENS TO YOU
she blushes a little but gets straight to the point, and he's just kinda heart eyes as he watches her work and he is kinda listening to her but at the same time he's like blah blah blah proper name backstory stuff hehehe
