Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader
Genre: jfc idk anymore it’s a rollercoaster
Summary: You always had a plan for what you’d do if you ever met a member of BTS. You just never expected you’d need it.
“Yeah. Out of sight, out of mind, out of our lives.”
“Good. I’m proud of you.”
“I’d do anything for them.”
“I know– that’s why I chose you. You want to protect them from people like her.”
Cold. You can’t move, you can’t breathe, because it’s cold, too cold, your lungs refuse to expand, you’re blind in the terrible, impossible darkness, water fills your nose and throat and you thrash weakly, unable to find purchase, you’re so cold and you’re sinking, sinking–
No. You don’t want to die, not now, and not like this. So what’s step one? You need to breathe. For that you need to reach the surface. And for that…
With the remaining energy in your numb limbs, and with your lungs fixing to collapse, you wriggle out of your heavy coat. The shock of the freezing water on your exposed skin rips through you– but by this point you don’t even have the energy to shiver. Still, the loss of the coat allows you more mobility and buoyancy and you push through the water until at long, long last, you break through the surface and gasp for air, your throat sore, your chest heaving, the frigid oxygen the most welcome it’s ever been. You don’t know how long you were under, but it was enough time for the women who attacked you to get away. Groaning, you fight the current and climb onto the rough cement opposite your fall. Your left leg hurts like the devil, and you still don’t how a person could go to such lengths. She was trying to kill you– and why exactly does the riverside have no railings? Someone could get hurt.
Well, it’s not every day someone actively pushes you in, you muse humorlessly. With your entire body aching and your coat stuck on a plant in the middle of the river, you stand on weak knees and try to figure out how you’re going to climb up the almost vertical cement walls lining the man-made river.
There. A crack in the cement, a ledge just wide enough to let you pull yourself up. The instant you take a step, though, your body decides to reactivate and fight off your dangerously low temperature by shivering, shaking so violently that you can’t get a grip, can’t even feel your fingers, and you’re tired, so tired, all you want is to sleep…
Ah, but you have to keep moving. You jam your fingertips into the crack and pull, straining your muscles, dragging yourself up with strength you didn’t know you had left.
“N-n-ngh…” breathless from the effort, you at last heave yourself onto the street above. Your necklace, the hospital, and any signs of a scuffle are across the river, and out of reach.
The necklace… thinking about the lost Starry Night charm brings tears to your eyes. Yoongi gave that to you so long ago. Its presence had comforted you like a friend, and now that it’s lost, how will you face him?
Yoongi. You miss him. At that moment, so cold you can barely draw air, you want to hug him more than anything.
Oh god, Yoongi. The fight. You’d argued– Christ, why had you argued in the first place? You can’t remember. Your thoughts are foggy and you sway on the spot, overtaken with sudden and brutal pain. Your leg hurts– unlike your feet, your leg has just enough feeling left for you to sense your own suffering, and it’s with trembling and clumsy fingers that you roll up your pant leg, only to gasp and flinch. It’s dark, and you can’t see what’s wrong, but oh, how it hurts–
This is crazy. You need to get home, shower, change, and get a few hours of rest so you can work in the morning. You reach stiffly for your phone to call a car, but- fuck.
Your phone. Your lovely phone, your only connection to Yoongi, is happy and snug in your coat pocket. And, now that you think of it, your apartment keys are in there as well.
“F-f-f-f-fuck…” you suddenly giggle, teeth chattering, quite on the edge of hysteria. You’re stranded, soaked, and injured; it’s the middle of a winter’s night and you can’t feel your fingers or toes at all anymore as the wind chill bites deep into your bones. It’s so ridiculous, so absolutely funny that what else can you do but laugh?
You clutch your stomach, your laughter rising in pitch and desperation, until you’re not only laughing but crying as well; you really might just die out here, with soaked clothing, a bruised throat, and nothing to show for your efforts. through your blurred vision, you catch a glance of a street sign and emit a sort of hiccup of shock: Lisa’s place is only about a mile away.
You can walk– limp– a mile, right?
Whether I can or I can’t, I’m going to, you think to yourself, a newborn sense of determination drying your tears. Your physical limits mean nothing in the face of pure willpower– you’re too stubborn to give up and die now that you have a goal.
And thus, you begin your frigid, painful walk, guessing at crossroads– you’ve never navigated to Lisa’s from this direction in the pitch black, and you don’t have your phone to give you directions. Your resolve weakens with every minute you spend trudging on cold pavement, your dripping clothes feeling like ice on your skin– you’re so cold that it hurts, and you’re trying to fight it by moving but you eventually reach a worrisome point where the cold doesn’t hurt anymore– you can barely feel anything at all. With what sluggish thoughts you can manage, you wonder honestly if all of this is worth it.
Where you could once power walk a mile in fifteen minutes, it takes you more than double the time and when you finally arrive at Lisa’s doorstep it must be nearing midnight and you’re a mess– your leg is weak, your lips are blue, and your body has given up on warming your extremities, instead employing emergency tactics to simply keep you alive.
You ring the bell with all the grace of a legless turtle and Seulgi, one of Lisa’s roommates, opens the door, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Who, at this hour…?“
“C-c-can–” you can’t even get the words out. “W-warm?”
“Oh my god. Yes! Of course! Oh goodness, quickly, come inside–” Seulgi ushers you in and you collapse on the couch, unable to bend your knees properly in order to sit.
“Lisa!” Seulgi calls. “Come here, quick!”
“Seulgi, what the– holy fuck!” Lisa appears, her expression the epitome of perfect shock. “Jesus, y/n, shit, what happened?”
“Co-ld,” you manage. You physically can’t part your lips enough to speak, your tongue feels frozen solid and the word comes out garbled. “Hurts.” You’re tired, tired, and your eyelids feel so heavy…
“Y/n, listen to me! No, you can’t fall asleep, stay with me, c’mon…” Lisa says pleadingly. “Open your eyes!”
“Should I call for an ambulance?” Seulgi asks nervously.
“No, let’s see what we can do for her first,” Lisa replies.
“‘M f-f-fine,” you say, shivering.
“You’re the farthest thing from fine. Who did this to you?” Lisa asks, kneeling by your side and taking your hands in hers before flinching. “Christ, you’re an icicle. Seulgi, can you stay with her? I’m going to fetch some blankets and a change of clothes– and turn the heat up too. Y/n, once you’re feeling better we’ll give you a hot bath, okay?”
“L-L-L-Leg,” you gasp, trying to point at the pain concealed by your clothes– but your body doesn’t listen, and your arm stays put. “Le–ngh– leg.” Your half-frozen diction is frustrating, but you get your point across.
Seulgi slowly rolls up your pant leg before gasping, and Lisa hisses in sympathy. “Ouch.”
“W-wha–” It must be bad to garner this sort of reaction.
“Seulgi, can you grab some bandages?” Lisa asks quietly, and Seulgi nods, hurrying away.
“Who did this to you?” Lisa asks in a low voice as she helps you out of your soaked outer clothing.
Your neck is too stiff to let you shake your head. “N-n-no.” Yes.
Lisa exhales sharply, a fire burning behind her eyes as she rubs your chest in an effort to warm you. “Y/n, when I find out who did this–”
There goes her temper. Now you’re more worried for the women who attacked you– when your best friend gets angry, she goes to any lengths for revenge. “It’s…m’kay.”
Your friend opens her mouth to speak just as Seulgi reenters the room. “I’ve got a bath running– there’s a change of clothes in there. Here are some wipes and antibacterial spray.” She hands them to Lisa before leaving with one last worried glance.
“Let me clean your cut.” Lisa says, dabbing at your leg.
“You don’t know?” Lisa asks, surprised. “Y/n, you’ve got a big gash on your calf– there’s blood running down to your ankle. Can’t you feel it?”
“B-barely. Hurts. Ah!” you yelp in pain as Lisa presses on the wound.
“Sorry, sorry!” She cries. “I just wanted to make sure you still haven’t gotten frostbite– I took, like, one anatomy class last semester so I’m basically a genius. Hopefully you’ll regain all your sensation after your bath…c’mon, I’ll help you.”
Slowly, and with great difficulty, she leads you to the bathroom and helps you lower yourself into the bath. Where you can feel, the water burns your flesh– the contrast from near freezing to the heat of the bath is uncomfortable, prickly, painful.
“I was so worried,” Lisa frets as she rubs your hands vigorously to get your blood flowing again. “You didn’t text– I called you, like, a thousand times.”
“No phone,” you croak, your voice a bit stronger now but your throat still hurting from the near-strangulation.
“Can you move your fingers and toes?”
With conscious effort, you lift your hands and try to wiggle your fingers. For a second your muscles seem to disobey and fear overtakes you until at last–
“Oh, thank god,” Lisa sighs with relief on seeing all twenty of your fingers and toes bending and straightening. “You can sleep here tonight, okay? I’ll take the couch.”
“It’s– ‘kay. W-wanna go home.”
Lisa shakes her head. “You’re in no position to walk around– I doubt you’d even have the strength to climb the stairs to your apartment. Just stay here, it’s no trouble.”
You smile with stiff and frozen lips. “Th-th-thanks.”
Lisa rises. “Always. I’m gonna go grab some things– or do you want me to stay?”
“Okay, let me know if you need anything.”
You nod clumsily and rest your cheek on the side of the bath. The pain from the heat has faded into a foreign but pleasant warmth. You’re alive.
“You’re being a hypocrite.”
“I’m not. I’m right. I know I am.”
“Hyung…” Namjoon sighs, rubbing his temples as Yoongi continues to pace. “It’s late. Go to sleep and visit her in the morning if it’s bothering you that much.”
“You know the hospital will be full of people if you go early,” Seokjin reminds Namjoon. “And we have practice in the afternoon.”
“I have. She’s not answering,” Yoongi replies anxiously. “I should see her–”
“Wait, what? What exactly are you planning on doing?” Namjoon asks, incredulous. “Are you going to just walk down to the hospital and apologize? It’s nearly midnight and below freezing!”
“I can take the car,” Yoongi says, already shrugging on his coat.
“Yoongi, no. I get that you want to kiss and make up–”
“Oh, fuck off,” Yoongi says, his cheeks reddening as Seokjin snickers.
“–but visiting hours are long over by now. They’re not gonna let you see her– and if they were, who says she wants to see you?”
Yoongi pauses. “I just want to talk to her.”
Namjoon opens his mouth to speak, but Seokjin interrupts. “Oh, just let him go.”
The younger swivels to look at him. “What? Hyung–”
“He’s not going to sleep anyways if it’s bothering him all night, Joon. Yoongi, go see her.”
Yoongi’s catlike eyes light up and he darts out the door, already pulling out his phone to call the driver.
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