Morning Coffee Part 4
He was stuck at the hospital with a broken arm and four stitches on his eyebrow. He had a minor concussion and three of his ribs were bruised. The doctors tell him he’d been unconscious for five days, he’d woken up just last night at around one in the morning. His head hurt, and he didn’t want to think. He’d been sleeping nonstop for a week now, and waking up for a few minutes to eat or go to the restroom.
He lost his phone when he got hit so he couldn’t text Seungri back, never even got to reply to his message before the accident occurred. He wanted desperately to get home and see Seungri and assure him that he didn’t just up and leave, but he couldn’t. He was stuck at the hospital. He was stuck in the hospital until the doctors allowed him to leave.
And now, it had been several days since he’d been in the hospital. He didn’t know how many it had been, but he became restless with each passing day.
---
There was bleach, shirts, and felt paper all over the table. He wanted to approach all the styles of art, one at a time. He’d discovered how to design shirts with only bleach and felt paper online and found it interesting to try, and now, he couldn’t think of what he wanted to draw on the fabric.
His inspiration had gone down the drain lately, and he couldn’t think of creative things to draw. His mind was so distracted with thoughts that it blocked all the creative ideas that used to flow freely in his mind.
He was sitting at his table, gazing out the window into the night, the city lights flickering like the stars in the sky, when his phone vibrated. His heart began thumping wildly in his chest. He looked at the screen and realized the text was from an unknown caller.
Open the door.
He walked up to the door and look into the peep hole, the person was facing Jiyong’s door, so he couldn’t see the face, but from the hair and the structure of the man’s body, he could recognize the figure almost instantly. He opened the door.
“How’s my little dongsaeng doing?”
Seungri wanted to shut the door in Seunghyun’s face, but the other had already entered his apartment, and he could smell the faint scent of alcohol as the elder walked passed him into the kitchen. He gripped his phone tightly in his hand. Just in case.
Seunghyun rifled through his refrigerator and pulled out a soda. After opening the can with a crisp crackling sound, he took a sip and turned to Seungri. He was used to speaking through writing, but Seunghyun decided on using sign language instead.
I see you’ve been up to nothing. Just living off money sent to you? He scoffed. You’re just a hopeless burden.
Seungri balled his hands into fists. He hadn’t used his voice in years now, and he wasn’t sure if his words made sense, but he growled out a small get out and pointed to the door. His voice was incredibly hoarse from the lack of usage in the past years, but regardless, it was clear and strong and only a little slurred. Tears threatened to spill as memories began replaying in his mind.
They aren’t sending me any money, so I came here to pick up some of the money you already have. You give me a few hundreds, I’ll leave you in peace.
“Get the fuck out.” This time, his tone was more slurred and uncontrolled, but understandable either way.
Seunghyun starred at him for a few seconds, motionless, and Seungri was almost expecting a chuckle. He rubbed his fingers together, signifying for the money, and Seungri lost his temper. He grabbed the front of Seunghyun’s jacket, shoving him towards the door, but Seunghyun had always been stronger, and he pushed Seungri to the floor beside his art table. They were both angry, their faces were red, and Seungri swung his arms, but the older caught him by the wrists and pushed them against the floor.
“WHERE’S THE FUCKING MONEY?” As he spoke louder, the words became strung together from a thick tongue.
Seungri could tell what the other was saying by reading his lips, could smell alcohol on his breath, stronger from the close proximity, but he shook his head and kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t a coward.
Seunghyun, obviously drunk, swung his fist and hit Seungri in the temple, held his fist in the air as if threatening to strike again.
“WHERE IS IT?”
Seungri pushed the elder off with all the force he could conjure up and tried crawling to his phone. He grabbed at it, dialed 911 as quick as he could, then Seunghyun pulled at the collar of his shirt and threw him backwards onto the floor. The phone slid to the other wall. He tried to escape, but the grip was too strong. Seunghyun looked around, grabbed at the bottle of bleach, and poured the liquid into Seungri’s eyes, face, forced his eyes open and continued pouring. He threw the bottle aside furiously and got up to look for the money, rummaging through his brother’s belongings, carelessly throwing things about.
Seungri was crying. He was crying out, using his weak voice to call out for help.
“Someone…please, help me…” He sobbed in pain; his voice was slightly mumbled from forgetting sound. “Jiyong…”
And suddenly, he felt like he was reliving things.
His eyes burnt, and he couldn’t open them. He tried pulling himself off the ground, but when he was halfway to sitting up, he felt something hard hit his head, and he was out.
---
Jiyong was finally discharged from the hospital. He had a cast on his left arm, bandages wrapped around his torso, and a bandage on his eyebrow.
He had no way to get home, so he called Daesung and asked him for a ride, then went outside to wait and realized it was night. He sat on the bench in front of the hospital and waited for a few minutes, huddled against himself for warmth. It was somewhere in November now, the eighteenth maybe? Yeah, something like that, yet the weather was already this cold. Winter hadn’t even started.
Jiyong was hoping to himself that he hadn’t completely broken Seungri’s heart for suddenly disappearing for weeks straight. He had no way to contact him, he didn’t have a phone anymore and he couldn’t exactly call the boy. It wasn’t entirely his fault he ended up in the hospital, the car could’ve stepped on the breaks, swerved around him, anything to avoid hitting him, but karma didn’t exactly work that way either.
After about ten to fifteen minutes, Daesung arrived. He greeted him with a warm and firm hug, and after Jiyong yelped in pain, shouting profanities all over the place about how his ribs were going to fucking fall off or something, he quickly pulled back and apologized. The whole ride back Jiyong was excited and nervous. Excited because he was finally going to get to see Seungri after so long and nervous because of that same reason. He couldn’t stop fidgeting with his fingers.
“So, why are you here at the hospital again?”
“Got hit by a car. I crossed the street without looking apparently.”
“And you talk about it like it’s the most normal thing to happen to someone. Hyung, you need to be careful and watch out when you’re crossing the streets!”
“Hey, calm down. I’m alright, so don’t worry.”
“Hyung, you would get into an accident like that.”
“Ya! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Aish…you elders are so blind…” he shook his head and clicked his tongue.
“Just keep your eyes on the road before you hit someone! And I’m only 22, excuse you.”
“Whatever hyung. I’m not the one who got hit.”
Jiyong sighed, chuckled a little, and stared out at the city.
“Hey, so what’s going on with you and Seungri? Did you ever apologize to him?”
“Yeah, we’re… yeah, I did that a while ago.”
“Oh, hey, so are you guys good now?”
“I hope so.”
---
When they arrived at their apartment complex, red and blue lights were flashing brightly in the dark parking lot. There were police cars and an ambulance truck parked in front of his building. Him and Daesung got out of the car and approached the scene. As they neared the sight, paramedics were pushing someone out on a gurney, and Jiyong instantly recognized the victim as Seungri. He ran frantically towards the boy, his heart pounding outrageously against his bruised rib cage. He ignored the searing pain that surged in his side and the sharp stab at his ankle.
“Oh my god, Seungri…” He let out in a choked voice, tears filling the outer edges of his eyes, on the verge of falling, and he grabbed at the boy’s hand, squeezed it tight. When he didn’t feel anything in return, he thought he felt his heart crash into the pit of his stomach.
Seungri was normally pale, but at that moment, his face was bruised and bloodied. Instead of the vibrant colors that painted life onto his smiling face, it was blue, black, and purple, ominous shades decorating his appearance, the skin around his eyes was red and irritated. His face was smeared with something wet, water, or tears maybe, and Jiyong couldn’t decipher whether or not they were his own tears.
“Sir, you’re going to have to mov---“
“I’m the closest thing he has. What happened to him?”
“…Someone broke into his apartment and poured bleach in his eyes. He has to go to the hospital immediately, so you’re going to have to let go.”
The paramedic firmly placed a hand on Jiyong’s frail shoulder and pushed him back. Jiyong watched as Seungri was pushed into the ambulance and rushed off to the hospital, watched as the police escorted a man in handcuffs out of the building and shoved him into one of the police cars. He gritted his teeth and walked over to the handcuffed man sitting in the car, window rolled down.
“You can fucking go to hell, you worthless piece of shit.” He spat in the guys face and made an attempt to attack the other, but the police pushed at his chest and sternly told him to calm down and stay back.
Jiyong wiped at his wet face, dried off his tear stained cheeks, and went to find Daesung, who was standing outside of the crowd of red and blue blinking lights. He sat down at the curb, fresh tears caressing down his face, making his cheeks cold as a light breeze passed by every so often. He’d been gone for days, weeks, not being able to see Seungri, and coming back to this, gave him a massive headache; he wasn’t supposed to be this overwhelmed especially with a concussion. He couldn’t take it, his vision was spinning, trying to wrap around everything that was happening, and if he had stood for any longer, he would have already collapsed to the ground by then.
Hours passed, and he sat there with Daesung beside him, a comforting arm around his shoulders. Did Daesung know how close he was to Seungri? Or was he just consoling him? Either way, he was thankful to have a friend there beside him.
It was close to midnight when they parted. He thanked Daesung for being there tonight and walked down to his room. He was about to enter, but he couldn’t help to turn around and look at the door to Seungri’s room. After deciding whether or not he should go in, he ended up turning the knob and pushing on the door.
The room was a mess. All the furniture was pushed around, his art utensils scattered all over the floor, and his artwork was pushed off the table and thrown carelessly on the ground in a collage of paper. Jiyong gripped at the front of his shirt and knelt in the middle of the floor, sobbed quietly to himself and wondered how someone like Seungri deserved this. Why hadn’t he been there when this happened? Why couldn’t he help Seungri? That’s right, because he was careless when crossing the street, something they’d been told over and over to look out for since grade school.
He punched the wooden floor beneath him with his good hand and clenched his teeth. Jiyong sucked in a raspy breath of air and got up, spotting Seungri’s cellphone on the ground. He picked it up and stared at the white device for a few seconds, then he ran out of the room and knocked on Daesung’s door.
“Hey, can you drive me back to the hospital?”
---
He was in the waiting room. The fluorescent lights were too bright and it made everyone look even more tired than they actually felt. He could see from the reflection of the window that his eyes were puffy, dark circles underneath them, and his face was a ghostly pale shade. Daesung was sound asleep in the seat beside his. There were only a few others in the waiting room, but trivial things like that didn’t cross his mind. He was too busy worrying about Seungri.
The clock was nearing three in the morning when one of the doctor’s walked out, calling his name. When he checked in, he had told them he was the guardian of Lee Seunghyun, one of the patients that had recently been admitted into the hospital only a few hours before, and now, two hours later, the doctor was calling his name to tell him the outcomes.
Jiyong got up quickly and finally pulled his abused thumb nail from his mouth.
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s going to be okay. He has a minor concussion; something hard hit the side of his head which caused him to pass out. A few cuts here and there but those should heal in no time. Unfortunately, that isn’t the only issue at hand. He… won’t be able to see anymore. The length of time the bleach was in his eyes was too long, so it damaged his eyesight completely. We couldn’t save his eyes fast enough. I’m sorry we couldn’t do anything to help.”
The world was spinning, and he felt lightheaded, felt the urge to puke, but he held it back.
“Can I see him now?”
“You can, but he’s resting, so please don’t disturb him.”
The doctor led him to Seungri’s room, and Jiyong entered. The boy was resting in the white hospital bed, the heart monitor beeping dully beside him and the dripping of the fluids too loud in the quiet room. He had a bandage wrapped around his eyes, so Jiyong couldn’t see how badly damaged they were. Seungri contrasted beautifully against the white bed, and it reminded him of the time when they first made love. He was completely still, and the beeping of the monitor was the only thing assuring Jiyong that Seungri was alive, physically. He stood beside the bed and stroked the boy’s pale cheek, the skin cold beneath his fingertips. He fell to his knees beside the bed and he was sobbing uncontrollably all over again for the umpteenth time that night. He was whispering things like mianhae or I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.
But Seungri probably got that a lot anyways.
Part 5