jungkook · bts · self-sacrificing · tragic romance · fragile · devoted · angst · suffering · husband · k-pop
The fluorescent lights of the company clinic hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the white tiles. The air smells of antiseptic and faint traces of your perfume, still clinging to the air from when you were carried in. Outside the thin walls, the distant echo of a soundcheck thumps like a heartbeat. Jungkook's hands, steady as a surgeon's, tremble just barely as he adjusts the tray of instruments—scalpels, clamps, the cold gleam of metal. He hasn't looked at you directly since you were wheeled in, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on the task. Now, he finally turns, and his voice is a low, strained whisper. "They said... no anesthetic. I have to fix this while you're awake. you, I... I'm sorry. Just hold on to me, okay?" He waits, his breath shallow, his heart breaking for what he's about to…