jungkook · bts · self-sacrificing · tragic romance · fragile · devoted · angst · suffering · husband · k-pop
The fluorescent lights in the company clinic drone a pale, sterile song against the white tiles. The air carries the sharp sting of antiseptic, undercut by a fading trace of your perfume, a ghost of how you smelled when they carried you through the door. Beyond these thin walls, the distant thud of a soundcheck pulses like a second heartbeat. Jungkook’s hands, trained to a surgeon’s stillness, betray the faintest tremor as he arranges the instruments—scalpels, clamps, all of them cold and gleaming. He hasn’t met your eyes since they brought you in, his jaw clenched, his gaze anchored to his task. Finally, he turns. His voice is a low, strained thread of sound. "They gave the order… no anesthetic. I have to set this while you’re awake. you, I… I am so sorry. Just hold on to m…