presenting...

a taekook fanfiction.

IN WHICH a hospital friendship programs pairs

an eccentric, social butterfly with a terminally

ill, social outcast with hopes of making the last

six months of his life worth living.

the key is to not get attached, but sometimes

you forget good things don't last forever until

it's too late.

the following:

— major character death (yeah.)

— , crack, slice of life, referenced toxic

relationships, discussion of life & death, depression,

a couple medical inaccuracies, strong language,

and of course, fun times.

— other ships. some straight ships.

: jan 30th, 2021

: july 7th, 2021

** PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE SPOILERS

IT IS DISRESPECTFUL FOR OTHERS

EVERYONE DESERVES AN EQUAL

READING EXPERIENCE (:

💛

The last time Jeongguk could remember his life being normal was when he was seventeen and about to lose his virginity to his girlfriend in the back of his car.

It was glamorous, he guessed. Although, now that he thought about it, uncomfortable car sex with some girl he couldn't remember the name of wasn't exactly the best situation.

It was basically as normal as it could get for awkward teenagers wanting a quick and easy experience. But even so, that didn't last too long because right before he could even properly kiss her, he puked.

Jeon Jeongguk puked all over her boobs like the great mood setter he was.

It was embarrassing— no, scratch that, it was basically life-scarring enough that Jeongguk swore he was incapable of meeting any girl's eye for the rest of his life. However, when Jeongguk meant that was the last normal thing in his life, it actually was.

He didn't puke all over her because of the insane amount of Taco Bell and Baja Blast they ate hours before caused a chain reaction in his bowels. The next day when he went to the doctor, he wasn't diagnosed with a stomach bug.

He was diagnosed with cancer.

More specifically, there was a tumor in some weird place, and it just chose to make him sick right then and there. He got an earful from his aunt for not telling her sooner, but even Jeongguk himself didn't realize his inner parts were a breeding ground for some nasty, cancerous mass to make its home and kinda kill him in the process.

How could he when all he wanted was to just lose his v-card that night? She wasn't really up to argue with him, so he dropped the topic.

At first, it wasn't a problem to him. Or, well, he didn't think it was because even though cancer was pretty hellish, he didn't expect it to have the power to really change his entire life. Most people when they get cancer, they freak out.

Naturally some cry too, while others vowed to explore the world until their last, dying breath, but when he got the news, he didn't really know how he should feel.

Jeongguk was average. He was on the basketball team, but he wasn't good enough to really be on the starting lineup. His grades were subpar with the effort he did attempt to put into the bullshit that was school.

His friends were a bit on the delinquent side, but even so, they weren't anything special besides their fondness of drinking, cotton candy vape juice, and testing the speeds of their cars on empty streets.

He was used to not being special or extraordinary, or something worth looking at and thinking, wow, you're something I want to figure out. Jeongguk was fine with that, really. Being lack luster was his brand.

He was that book on the shelf somebody would pass by because the cover wasn't interesting, or someone would flip through his pages and decide he wasn't worth the time. But in that moment, it was as if somebody ripped out all of his pages and just stomped on them.

It was like everything he ever knew was destroyed, and nobody was going to put him back on the shelf because he didn't deserve to be there.

It was okay, he guessed, losing all his kinda-friends because once the chemo rounds started working, they were just as repulsed as he was when his hair fell out in chunks and he reminded them of what they could be if they wrecked their cars or got lung cancer from all the pods they vaped.

He couldn't play basketball because as much as he wanted to, nausea hit like a fucking semi-truck and left him bedridden. Energy was hard to come by, and he wasn't needed or good enough to have a spot saved for him. So, he quit that too.

And his grades fell so bad, he nearly flunked senior year. His aunt had to work something out with the school so he could graduate, and even though he did manage to get by, it wasn't like he was well enough to walk at graduation or go on the trips or party with his kinda-friends and kiss strangers and feel like a normal teenager.

Jeongguk couldn't really remember what normal was anymore. All he knew were four, gray walls, the rhythmic drip of an IV with 'treatment' that was doing more harm than his tumor did, and the stupid reclining chair with the vomit bucket and the apple juice carton that honestly mocked him (could apple juice even mock people?).

But hear him out, it somehow got worse.

Turned out he didn't actually have cancer. Or well, he had a cancerous mass and chemo did its job and worked, but that wasn't the end.

As Jeongguk made his recovery, there was something else. Another potentially un-normaling disease to spice up his pretty fucking boring life.

He had this incredibly rare diagnosis that nobody in the medical community knew about. It was so rare there were barely any studies on it, and god, if that sounded like ass, it was basically a terminal illness with no cure.

It was a terminal illness that killed you over time in the worst fucking slowburn ever. Not the romance kind of slowburn but the type where little by little your body would shut down, and when it got to the final stage— organ failure— it was practically over for Jeongguk.

His own body was edging him, except he didn't know how edging felt because cancer made him a fucking virgin for way too long. So yeah, that was that.

Not only did he nearly visit death's doorstep after a year or so of aggressive chemo, any hope that he would perhaps get better and find his way back to a normal life were crushed. Again.

He was going to actually die for sure this time, and the thing was, he didn't know when.

The doctors gave him less than a year, depending on how fast the disease progressed.

Fast forward, he was nineteen now. Beat their dumb predictions by a few months but before he could get the chance to celebrate, his condition plummeted. What was supposed to be a harmless cold turned into fucking pneumonia, and now the doctors were saying he had a good six months left if the disease was targeting his immune system first.

After that, Jeongguk decided that maybe normalcy wasn't for him— he just didn't deserve that, or well, anything at all, really.

The world already proved it to him. Multiple times.

"So you basically enrolled me into daycare? What am I, three?" Jeongguk slammed the car door shut behind him, watching his Aunt Sae skeptically as she walked around the car to join his side, the two of them heading toward the hospital.

"It's not daycare. God, when did you get so judgmental?" Sae rolled her eyes at him, locked her Mercedes Benz, and gestured at him to follow her.

"Ever since your team said I was gonna die in six months," Jeongguk retorted, having to jog a little to match his aunt's pace, but she noticed his struggle and thankfully slowed down.

"The world is fucking stupid. Might as well point out all of its little insecurities and judge it. Maybe even bully it too 'cuz I'ma die anyway."

"Jeongguk, you're not gonna die," She said, squinting at him through her round, tortoise shell glasses that made her look absolutely stupid but Jeongguk said they were nice to flatter her anyway.

"Bullshit," He said. Sae met him with silence, all except for the constant click of her heels against the pavement. "Oh and you know I'm capable of using a toilet right? It's not like I'm senile and need fucking diapers."

He paused, biting at his lip realizing there was actually a chance he could be senile. "Well, at least for now but still."

"It's not a daycare, kid," Sae groaned, "It's a support group for patients around your age."

"Just say you hate me staying in your office and go. I'm a big boy, Sae."

"I know you are but I think you could use your time for something more productive then wasting away in my office," Sae reasoned. Jeongguk rolled his eyes, watching her wave at other doctors and workers that passed by as they approached the front of the hospital.

"I'm wasting away just talking to you," Jeongguk said. She scoffed. "Plus you agreed I shouldn't do college. It's a waste of money and my time." He said, purposefully making his voice all nasally to mimic her voice and piss her off— which he did.

"I didn't say that. I said it'd be an unfulfilled investment because you'd die before you get the degree," Sae shot back, her hand reaching down to tug at the sleeve of Jeongguk's jean jacket as the security held the door open for them.

"Ha! See you admitted I'm gonna die!" He punched the side of her arm, only to earn a nasty glare from his aunt as the two walked into the foyer.

"Jeongguk," She whispered, tugging his sleeve again. "I can't deal with your attitude right now."

"Waaa, waaa. You can bear me for another six months," He rolled his eyes yet again, following her to the elevators leading up to her floor.

"Well even if I can, I'm still putting you in this group program. I can't entertain you when I have surgeries to do and patients to evaluate," She shrugged after pushing the doors closed with a manicured hand.

Right. Outside of being his aunt and the last of his family that remained, Jeon Sae was the chief of surgery at South Korea Grace. Jeongguk admitted she was pretty good at what she does, but he didn't really understand her work since his education was limited to highschool biology (which he almost failed), not all that crazy mumbo jumbo that came with general surgery.

She was cool, Jeongguk supposed, though often very busy. But Sae always made up for it, even if her schedule required her to do crazy hours. She was all he had left, so Jeongguk couldn't complain when she put effort into being there for him after he entered her life out of nowhere.

It was the most he could do, bother her and be there, because in a few months. . . Yeah.

"You don't even have to talk," Sae said, leaning against the wall adjacent from him as Jeongguk watched the levels slowly go up. "Just sit there and listen. It's meant to make you less lonely."

"I'm not lonely," Jeongguk tried to argue though he falls a bit short. She lowkey had him there. He had zero friends, no romantic life, or like, any life plans.

Sae knew it, judging by the lopsided smirk on her lips. "Sure. Anyway, it's a new thing we're starting. You know Dr. Kim Namjoon, right?"

"Isn't that the young dude with dimples from psych that all the nurses simp for?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Sae nodded, her smirk switching to a gentle smile.

"Yeah, that psychiatrist. He was willing to put some time aside in his day to host a little group for an hour every Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's a good guy. I think you'd love him."

"You think?" Jeongguk sighed, following Sae out of the elevator when the doors slide open. Sae merely hummed.

"He's creative, too. The guy wanted to create this program." He kept trailing by her side, wondering where this was going because when he looked around, Jeongguk was quick to realize they weren't heading to her office.

"Sae. . . Where are you taking me?" He asked carefully, scanning the walls of the hall around them for anything that familiar but unfortunately, he got nothing.

"It was a good idea when he proposed it to me," She continued to ignore him, "It's low cost and I think it'll boost the morale of the young patients who live here either full-time or those who constantly come back for treatments!"

"You can find friends, Gguk!"

"I don't want any friends."

"Well too bad."

"Okay if I'm going in this against my will, what is this program even called?" He mumbled, "Fucking daycare? Watch sick guys mumble and groan and probably die?"

"It's called the Buddy Program," Sae corrected softly, leading him down another hallway. But before he could make fun of it, she cut him off, "And no, nobody's going to die. I ensured there were some specific requirements for patients to join. Most of them will be recovering or are well enough to socialize."

"It's also for terminal patients like you, Jeongguk, who need a friend to spend the last few months of their lives together because they've spent all their time at a hospital."

"So they're all gonna die?" He really didn't like the idea of this despite how excited Sae was. It wasn't that he hated socializing, but the fact this felt like a pity friend, and from the time he spent at hospitals constantly, pity is the fucking worst.

Especially when they came from other adults, who couldn't keep their eyes to themselves and very unsubtly whispered about how unfortunate his life is, or cooed about how he was so young and treated him as if he was some lost cause.

There were a few teenagers that made his blood fucking boil too, only because they were a huge judgmental lot, and being bald and sick and nearly dying was bullying material even if they were old enough to almost pay taxes.

It was stupid— the pity, the false sympathy, the wandering eyes, the pained expressions, and the unforgettable "I'm sorry for you's" that came with weird shoulder squeezes. Plus Jeongguk was fine knowing he had to die on his own. It hurt less, and he had the time to prepare himself.

However, the idea of watching someone else die just didn't sit well with him.

It soiled Jeongguk's mood coming here, and during their walk, his mouth ran dry, bitterness staining his tongue as Sae lead him from hallway to hallway, unknowingly making him feel more stupid and useless and boring than he already was.

When they finally arrived at the door to the support group, he stood in front of her, arms crossed over his chest as he met her sharp stare, trying to show her how uninterested he was. He didn't want to do this, he tried to tell her telepathically. This wouldn't do shit. He was going to die alone anyway.

Nobody cared so why should he?

But since it was Sae, she never listened anyway.

"I want you to try," Sae breathed out, reaching over and grabbing the side of his arm and running her thumb up and down the expanse of his noodleness.

"You don't have much time, and I don't want you to be alone, Gguk," She whispered softly. "I made sure there were patients your age. They're all a sweet bunch. I operated on a few of them. Dr. Kim even invited his own patients."

"Now I'm stuck with crazy people?" Jeongguk scoffed. He noticed the way Sae's expression hardened, and okay, he felt a little bad when she recoiled her hand back. Hanging his head, he mumbled, "Sorry."

"Right. Well I want you to be polite. They're all in the same boat as you. When I'm telling you these are the few people that understand Gguk, they do."

"Alright, fine," Jeongguk gave in, his shoulders sagging as Sae's lips curled upward. "I'll do it for a week or two. If they're boring, I'm out. If they're scary, I'm out."

"Fine," Sae nodded, "As long as you try, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," He rolled his eyes, trying to hide the irritation in his tone as his aunt backed up, giving him one last hopefully grin as she headed toward the direction of the elevator.

"You promise me?" She called after him.

"I promise!"

He didn't keep his promise.

Instead, Jeongguk was wandering around the empty floor, doing everything he could to avoid going inside that damn meeting room because honestly, it was fucking humiliating.

God, when his aunt left, it was like being dropped off to kindergarten, but not in the kind parenting way. It felt more like he was punted like a football, and Sae left him on the field with no other warning except "hey there will be people like you who'll be there shortly"!

Of course, Sae meant well. She was his aunt, his only family left, and honestly, Jeongguk didn't expect her to read his mind twenty-four-seven. So out of kind consideration, he shoved his asshole-ness aside for a little bit, put the effort to look all happy and shit just so Sae wouldn't worry much.

She had enough on her plate, and what he felt didn't really matter anyway.

Jeongguk, however, was bored. There wasn't much to do on this floor except walk around and hope he didn't bump into some random nurse that would snitch about him playing hooky to his aunt, and like, there was no way he'd approach the support group if Dr. Kim were to catch him.

He could manage, maybe. Although if his terminal illness wasn't going to kill him yet, at this rate his boredom was sending him on the path to extinction.