& –– eye spy
jeonggukxmi:
[ trigger warning: blood, vomiting ?? }
( /// + )
he tucks his phone into his pocket and gets up in a whirlwind and is practically halfway across the opposite end of the hospital within seconds. all he can think is get out, get out, get out, like this is the most dangerous situation he’s been involved in in years, but even in his sheer panic something makes him come to a stop. hesitance– regret, maybe. there was so much he regretted when he thought yoongi was dead. but he’s not. he’s alive. what does that mean? what does he do?
he slowly turns on his heel– faces the direction of the hospital waiting room again before he takes a few tentative steps forward. he stops again, and his stomach flips, and in the spirit of forging an alibi for himself and in the spirit of genuinely feeling sick, he steps over to the closest trash can and leans on it instead. with the terrible sensation of guilt and fear churning in his stomach, throwing up blood seems preferable now.
the thing about not being able to see with one eye was that you bumped into things a lot. it’s better now though, yoongi doesn’t bump into half as many things anymore –– it actually also stems from the fact that he hates looking up when walking. a man of his status (a man with his job) not feeling the need to make eye contact (literally now) or to socialize.
it helps at least that black lotus pays him and this is enough to cover the cost of his fucked up eye. “come again,” the lady at the cashier says, and yoongi frowns at her, tucking his wallet into his packet before he’s turning towards teh exit, all too familiar with this routine already.
he slips out his phone, about to text a fellow a black lotus member that he’s up for any mission (and any cash they’re willing to pay him) when he bumps into something.
the boy looks up from his phone and he’s faced with a trash can and the figure of someone else behind it –– vomitting or something like that, the stench is morbid. but it’s a hospital after all so yoongi doesn’t put it past anyone to vomit literally, anywhere.
“sorry about that,” he says, and he tucks his phone into his pocket, realizing that it’s probably safer to text someone when he’s seated and doesn’t have his eyesight fucked up.
he finally looks up, ready to curve away from the boy in front of the trash can when –– oh. “oh,” he says aloud.
because he doesn’t know what else to say other than fucking oh. he hasn’t seen him in months, hadn’t done a thing to contact him, had instead gone missing in action and settled for a life with as little contact with people as possible. so oh, what is he doing here?
‘hi’ probably would have been appropriate, but yoongi’s not one to meet standards. instead always acting on his own accord (running away and not contacting jeongguk for almost a good year had been on his own accord as well).
“you sick?” is all he manages to muster up, and he masks the shock with his nonchalant attitude, his voice still low, the tone of the question sounding a lot like ‘how’s the weather today?’. “you’re throwing up in a trash can.”
