Seokjin.

My fingers are cold and numb. They shake as a raise my hand to wipe at a stray tear, the rough fabric of my sweater digging into my cheek. I have no mind to process the slight pain, my brain seemingly frozen from earlier too. All I can think about is Namjoon on that pavement, that horrifying sight of him just laying there, pale. Even after washing in the bathroom sink, I can still feel the ghost of his blood on my hands, it haunts me, a reminder of just how serious this is, how fucked up I am right now.

I pray. To any god out there, I pray that Namjoon be better. I am willing to do anything just so he can survive, If I had a choice I would trade places with him, and I am not just saying that because its impossible at the moment. I hate when people suffer because of me, I hate imposing on others, directly or not. It is why I would choose to be the one on that hospital bed, the one hurting instead.

It replays on my mind on a loop, that daunting memory from an hour back when I held his bloody hand in mine. He didn't look scared, or if he did he didn't particularly show it. In fact, he had the energy to smile at me, say that he was going to be alright, and that I was overreacting as always. Forgive me, but I have never seen anything like this in my entire life, I have never seen anyone stabbed, much less close to dying. I was worried, confused, and above all scared.

"Jin?" I turn my head at the mention of my name, scrambling off the waiting seats and into Hoseok's arms the moment I see him. I haven't had a chance to convey any emotion I have been feeling for the past hour, only occasionally wiping my tears when they fell. But now, seeing Hoseok here, I feel less lonely, and I let myself go, bawling like a baby in his shirt.

He let's me, helping me back into the plastic seats and holding me close. I need him now, closer to me than ever. It is why I called him, because somehow he is my rock, and I can confide in him. "Hey, you sounded so panicked on the phone, what happened." He asks eventually, his hand holding up my chin to look at my sobbing face.

"It's Namjoon, he got stabbed." I get straight to the point, not able to deliver it in any better wording than that, and I am not surprised when his eyes widen, mouthing forming into a frown. "Jin-"

"No, I did not do it." I clarify as I see his suspicious eyes, and he visibly takes in a relieved breath, this bitch. Although I see why he would think that, Namjoon and I don't see eye to eye, at least I don't, but I swear that I have never wished evil on him. I did tell him I hoped someone would shave his head in his sleep that one time, but I internally took it back after I imagined him bald headed.

"So what really happened?" I am a little scared to say it in detail, it reminds me of my fault in this, which is everything. "We were arguing before the...umm, dinner. It was a block down or so from the office, and these four guys came out of nowhere and started a fight with him."

"Jin-"

"It's my fault, he was protecting me." I say immediately, or rather cry, flashes of earlier going through my mind. "Don't say that, you didn't know those idiots would jump you" He tries to console me. But this thought process is irreversible for me, I just know if I wasn't such a smart mouth with Namjoon tonight, things would have been different. If only I had shut up, or better yet, go home like he had told me to, things would be definitely be different.

"What if something bad happens to him, what if he..." I can't finish, I can't even begin to imagine the worst. What I would do if something extreme would happen to him, something like death. That is somebody's son laying in that bed, what would I say to his family, or even myself. I fear, for him, Namjoon

"Don't say that, he is going to be fine, have a little faith." Hoseok urges, letting me lay my head on his shoulder while he pulls me close. The comfort doesn't take away my worries, but it soothes my nerves at the moment, so I try to relax beside him, tears flowing freely. "How long have they been in?"

"An hour, more or less." I answer him, although it seems like hours since I last saw Namjoon; being wheeled into the emergency. Time moves incredibly slow now, and fast at the same time, and if it weren't for the clock on the opposite wall, I would say at least three hours had gone by.

"How did he look when they brought him in?" Hoseok asks, stroking my arm. I remember clearly what he looked like, pale, for starters. "He was bleeding, not too much, but a lot of blood still. His eyes were...lidded, a little sleepy, but his hand held tight to mine, right until he had to let go for the emergency room." I smile a little at the memory, he had only asked me to not leave his side. A request I had agreed to faster than anything. His hand had then locked into mine in a tight joint, fingers grazing nicely against each other.

His gradually heavy eyes had also stayed on me, watching my every frantic movement, panicked gestures and hushed breathes. It might have been in the heat of the moment, but it made me feel things, things I couldn't fully comprehend with all that was going on at the moment. But admittedly, it felt good, kind of nice to be looked at that way. But like I said, it must have been the heat of the moment, I probably imagined it.

I huddle closer to Hoseok as I get lost in my worry. In endless thought of what awaits me and Namjoon. I think of how this even started to begin with. I still can't fully understand why, but I think he didn't like me saying I was paying him. I know I made it sound like it was wage for a particular labour that he did for me, which of course sounded rude and disrespectful, especially when it had been only a small favour. But I didn't care at the time, he shouldn't have either. We hate each other, at least I thought I did.

Now, I don't really know, I don't really think it's possible to hate him. I mean, he risked his life for me, took a freaking knife to the gut for me. I owe him my life. "Did you talk to the cops?" Hoseok asks after a while of silence, and I hum in answer. I hope they catch those bastards, although there isn't a lot to go by except for my and eventually Namjoon's statements when he gives one.

The door to the emergency room opens and I don't remember ever running so fast in my life. "How is he. Please tell me he is ok." I beg the doctor, his expressionless face making me worry further. Hoseok holds me close, a silent statement that he is here for me no matter the outcome.

"Your his boyfriend, Seokjin; I assume." The doctor says surprising me, his expressionless face stares at me, waiting. "Yes he is, how is Namjoon?" Hoseok lies, taping my side to signal me to go along with it. I do so, throwing out the possible reasons on why the doctor would say that and focusing on the matter at hand instead.

"Well he is doing alright. The wound wasn't deep, and it didn't get any vital organs either." I breath out a sigh of relief, having held it in all night. "He lost a lot of blood, and he is a little weak at the moment, but all he needs is rest, and care." Hoseok and I nod along, thankful at the news. "He did sustain some injuries from the fight, nothing serious, but still needs care nonetheless. Right now we gave him a sedative for the night, he'll be out a while, but when he wakes up, we will assess him and see if he is ready for discharge."

"Can I see him now." I ask hopeful. I need to see him with my very eyes to make sure he is alright. "Sure thing, just don't disrupt his rest."

I thank him, Hoseok and I do, before he goes away and we are both left by the door. "Do you want me to come with you." Hoseok says as he realizes my hesitation. I am scared, but I think I should go alone, I need to. "No, I think I'll go first. Thank you though..." I say I turn to face him. "Anything for you." He replies squishing my cheeks. I love him, he is just the best friend anyone could ever ask for. "Hey, umm, could you let Solar know, and possibly Jackson if you can get in contact with him" I ask for one last favour, to which he agrees immediately. I hug him tight in appreciation, letting him know he means the world to me right now.

He let's me go, and I enter the room, my legs almost buckling under the pressure, and the sight of Namjoon laying on his hospital bed. He is hooked to a few tubes, and other machines by the side, all ensuring his safety. He looks alright, not as pale as he was earlier. His features are relaxed too contrary to how hard they were on that pavement. I am happy he is fine, am elated, excited, that something bad didn't happen to him. I don't think I have ever felt the kind of fear I felt when I saw him down on that pavement, it's unexplainable really, the thought of him hurt, or something much worse happening to him.

I pull out the plastic chair by the side so I can sit next to him. What do I say now? Am sorry you got hurt? Thank you for protecting me? How do I start? Does he even want me here?
There are just endless things that i have questions to.

I take Namjoon's hand in mine as it the closet thing to me. It's warm, and rough like always. Oddly I remember earlier when he had joined it with mine amidst all the chaos. It had fit perfectly, like two pieces of puzzle, but I had been too hazed to admit so, or even acknowledge it. I try not to think too much as I do the same now, press his palm to mine, and eventually cross his fingers with mine. His is a bit larger, tattered in veins and a few scratches, and it envelopes mine nicely, somehow still strong even in his sleep.

"I am sorry." I mutter lowly in the quiet room, words sounding deserted without his response. My eyes meet his peaceful face, I miss his eyes, his dark orbs, and how they look at me. I hope he wakes up soon, even if things won't be the same when he does. He might possibly hate me than he already does, and that's ok. I've caused more harm than anything with this pretend hate that I put up.

I stay in the room for a while with him, until my eyes droop with heaviness, and I can't hold my head up anymore. I lay my head on our joined hands, knowing I won't get a chance to do something similar when he wakes up. This incident is somehow an eye opener for me, I know I don't hate him as much as I say I do. I don't even think I hate him at all, in fact, the opposite of all this might be true, and I don't know what to do with this realization.

It's just...I have spent so much time 'hating him' that it has become much easier than admitting that I am attracted to him. God I am such a mess.