Taehyung thinks love is like having open heart surgery.

He'll be on the operating table, laying there helplessly as a surgeon cuts his chest open to look at his beating heart.

Whereas, you'll comfort him in moments of vulnerability, and he'll helplessly give in and open up to you. Obviously, you'll try in a less invasive way to see his heart but in similarity, you and a cardiothoracic surgeon both have an opportunity to get inside his body and mess him up for good.

Furthermore, with everything that goes on during surgery, Taehyung's vulnerable to infection on that operating table and the walls he built in defence, so that bacteria can't hurt him, will only protect him for so long before their defences crumble down too.

It's like in life, the walls we build around our heart will eventually fall down. We can't possibly stay guarded forever.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Yoongi shouts, his voice somewhat muffled through his surgical mask. His voice quivers as he shouts out instructions. This is his best friend, a fellow doctor, someone close to him on the table. He can't fuck up. He won't fuck him. He refuses to let anything slip past him that could potentiate harm. "Jimin, we need a unit of red blood cells. Sana, watch his heart closely. Alice, swap places with Joon, you touched the IV bag, you're no longer sterile."

Alice gasps, her cheeks a sudden shade of crimson before nodding, they swap places seamlessly as Joon holds his gloves in the air.

Jimin gulps, feeling the tension in the air, as he hangs up the cold bag of red blood cells. He does the necessary checks before standing close to Taehyung again. Connecting the line to the bag, he watches as the blood slowly fills down to the very end before clamping it. "Hanging red, connecting now."

He inserts the line in to the infusion machine before connecting it to Taehyung's cannula. "Stitch, please." Yoongi sticks his hand out as Joon, the scrub nurse, leans close, handing him the correct needle holder and then the following equipment consecutively. No words are exchanged, they just know.

"A pretty stock standard operation for assisted closure. He won't need a vac dressing, just regular cares for this," Yoongi states, hoping the floating doctor is documenting. "Send him to the recovery room."

They all interweave in the operating room as Taehyung lays helplessly on the table, hudson mask on his nose and mouth, green cloth carefully thrown across his body save for the midline wound on his chest.

"We're almost done here." Yoongi says as Namjoon connects him up to a blood transfusion. Handing the needle holder back to the nurse, she swaps it with a honeycomb dressing.

Everyone watches Yoongi put the dressing on his chest. "Right. No internal injuries. No problems. All remarkable findings with his arteries. Vitals are stable. Blood pressure is resolving with the blood transfusion. Once the motherfucker is awake, we can all take turns punching him in the face."

Namjoon snorts. "I take it that you don't like him?"

Yoongi walks away from the table, shy of ripping his apron, cap and mask off. "Excuse me?" With the most serious face he could master, he shakes his head. "No, he's my bestfriend and what he did was fucking selfish and selfless. I love the kid, would do anything for him, including punching him in his stupid as fuck face."

There's an awkward kind of tension in the room that Jimin can't decipher. "Yoongi, that was amazing, watching you in your prime. You've never looked so serious."

Yoongi shakes his head, physically snapping himself out of that weird headspace fatigue keeps pushing him into. Smiling at the boy that grounds hime back to his reality, he winks. "You mean, sexy?"

Everyone in the room groans.

Namjoon rolls his eyes.

Sana starts helping the scrub nurse pack up.

One small mercy.

"Good work everyone, get him out of here," Yoongi whispers and Jimin nods as he watches Yoongi throw himself out of the operating theatre. "I'm fucking out of here."

"Does he have to swear all the time?" Namjoon asks. "It's unprofessional and disturbing sometimes. I wouldn't."

Jimin laughs, responding regardless of the rhetoric nature of the question. "Yes. Yes, he does. It's how he protects himself. Do you have to question him because he's in your position at this hospital? Because I'm not going to let you talk trash about my boyfriend Kim Namjoon, get off his dick."

Namjoon responds with silence.  

Sana snickers in the corner.