It took an hour for Jungkook to consider his agony great enough to pull him out of his flat in the dead of night. He threw some trousers on, pulled a jumper over his pyjama shirt and wore his leather jacket over the top. However, his right hand would still have made him stand out in a crowd. The lapis lazuli burns wrapped around his fingers in unusual shapes, as if they'd been tattooed onto an old scar. So Jungkook pulled on an old gardening glove (he wasn't about to ruin his lovely leather ones) causing a ripple of agony to ricochet around his body as the rough fabric scraped over his hand.

Half mad with pain as the glove pressed into his damaged skin, Jungkook stumbled out the door, failing to lock it but unable to care. Down the street he staggered, away from the main road and towards a small convenience store that ran twenty-four hours a day. He might have bumped into a few people on the way, even with how empty the sidewalks were; all he remembered by the time he reached the shop was that he had apologised multiple times.

He naturally went to grab the door handle with his right hand, but the second he touched it a groan escaped his lips and he staggered where he stood. An elderly man brushed past him and black spots danced across Jungkook's vision. When his sight came back, he was on his knees, the wet pavement soaking through his jeans. A hand had wrapped around his arm and it pulled him back up to his feet. The person behind him steadied him, and through the haze of his torment their voice came through distorted. It was like listening under water, so Jungkook could only guessed they had asked if he was alright. Which he was not; not that he was going to tell a stranger that. So he nodded mindlessly and made for the door again.

To his surprise, the panel was already open when he reached it, so he teetered through and headed towards the small first aid shelf. From it, and using his left hand only, he grabbed gauze, antibacterial solution and painkillers, stubbornly ignoring the black edges around his field of vision. He vaguely registered that the presence behind him had disappeared as he walked towards the counter. The time it took to ring the items through seemed to last forever. Jungkook clung to consciousness, but all he could feel was his right arm; the rest of his body was floating, cold and foreign.

Later, he wouldn't be able to remember paying or even leaving the shop. He couldn't have fainted, but maybe some instinct of survival had kicked in and taken over. All he would know for sure was that he had found a park bench and collapsed onto it. He recalled staggering on wet grass and finding the damp wood like an oasis in the desert.

Before he attempted anything, he took several pain-killing tablets and forced himself to swallow them without water. Taking the gardening glove off brought a new wave of pain like nothing he had felt before, his nervous system roaring out to him in protest. There was a gasp of air and out of nowhere came water. For several blissful minutes, lukewarm liquid poured over his wound, numbing the smarting ever so slightly and clearing the dark spots from the world. When it stopped, Jungkook could see again, noticing for the first time just how cold he was. He would have been colder if it weren't for the unfamiliar jacket wrapped around his shoulders.

He looked down at the ground and saw three large empty plastic bottles. Next to his feet, another pair of shoes was pointed towards him. His eyes followed them up, past a pair of black jeans, over a t-shirt clad chest and into the face of a stranger wearing a cap. He couldn't see the others' eyes but he could see the shivers running up his body in the chill of night and the hairs on his arms standing on end. The stranger paid no attention to his own discomfort as his features rippled in concentration.

Agony bloomed once again, causing Jungkook to briefly shout out. He attempted to snatch his hand back, but the man sat next to him kept a firm but gentle grip on his wrist. The alcohol was working its magic. Jungkook kept his eyes screwed shut for the next ten minutes. Now sat besides him, the stranger painstakingly wrapped his hand up, unravelling gauze and weaving it slowly_ ever so slowly_ between his fingers, then over his palm, around his wrist and back again.

When he was done, he lifted Jungkook's hand up to his face, examining it from every angle, before nodding solemnly. Jungkook had cracked an eye open and watched as the man returned the hand to its owner, placing it in his lap like a newborn bird. Jungkook looked down at the numbing limb, forever grateful for the anaesthetics he had taken. Now that the burning sensation was subsiding, the violent hypothermic reaction was also fading.

With his good hand, Jungkook reached up to his shoulders and swung the foreign jacket off. He stared at it gratefully, before raising it towards its owner.

"Thanks." he said in a soft voice, raspy with past pain. And because it didn't feel right to simply say it, he let his lips curl up into a tentative smile, waiting for the man to take his coat back.

He still couldn't see the others' eyes, but it didn't really matter, he could tell they had never met before. After missing a beat, the stranger took the clothing back and shrugged it back on, turning one last time towards him.

And then he grinned from ear to ear.

His lips were meant for smiling.

His rectangular grin lit up the night and a sound like a purr escaped from between his teeth.

And then he was gone.

Somehow, Jungkook staggered home. For the last few hours left of night-time he was awake; daydreams made of cerulean gauze flittered across his pupils, refusing him sleep, refusing to let him forget.

And so, he would always remember every second spent on that bench.

***