"So, I lined up at the hospital for two hours, paid for the stupid covid test with my own fucking hard-earned money. I then waited around for around two whole fucking hours for the fucking result. I came all the way here—with a negative certificate in my hands, and  nevertheless, you sent me away—because my temperature is off by one degree?" No anger management training in the world would prevent me from practising my roundhouse kick on Banana-boy. 

"Your temperature is 37.6°C. That's a low-grade fever and a sign your body may be fighting off an infection," Banana-boy rambled, holding the thermometer like a space gun. 

I shoved my negative test result in his face. "I'm NOT fighting any infection, as proven by this paper, black on white. But I was walking here in fucking forty-degree conditions, so of course, my temperature is up." And the fact that I'm seething at your stupidity isn't helping. "Look, Banana-boy…" Shit! Shit! Shit! 

"What did you just call me?"

"I… erm… sorry… umm," I scratched my neck. "You were wearing a shirt with a banana on it when I first saw you, and I'm really bad with names."

"Uh-huh… that's the reason, yeah?"

That, and you have a face like a monkey, but I won't be telling you that… See, Joon. I'm learning. I nodded vigorously. 

It was obvious Banana-boy didn't believe one word of what I just said. "The name is Li," he snorted. "I hope you'll be able to remember all two letters this time, Mr Min Yoongi."

"Yeah…I will… sorry again." I get your point. But I still think you're an idiot, Banana-boy. "Now let me see my brother."

Were all care-workers experts at rolling eyes? "I can't, Mr Min. Your temperature…"

Okay, Yoongi. Now take a deep, deep breath. I reached for my phone and dialled Joon's number. "Hi mate, you might wanna get into that cruiser of yours and rush to MOTS house. Because I'm about to do another idiot's nose in." 

"You won't be doing such a thing," came an exasperated response. "There is a nice little path right next to the house, where you will go for a five-minute walk. And while on this walk, you will think of a better way to deal with this situation."

"But…"

"No buts… If in five minutes from now you still think nose-smashing is the best way forward, you call me again." Joon hung up. 

"I'm going for a five-minute walk," I advised Banana-boy. "And then I'll do your nose in." Without waiting for any response, I turned around and left for the little path Joon advised. I didn't fancy a walk, but I could do with a cigarette right now. And here, Jimin wouldn't be able to see me from anywhere within his group home. 

"Holy shit-faced universe! You gotta be kidding me!" The tree I just yelled at didn't seem to care about my current misery, not did it seemed to be perturbed by the fact that I didn't have any cancer sticks. For the last few weeks, I'd always been smoking Shop-dude's cigarettes whenever we met. How the fuck was I supposed to calm down? I kicked the stupid and unhelpful arrogant little tree…

IDIOT!!! WHY DID YOU DO THAT? NOW YOU BROKE THE SAME TOE AGAIN! I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from howling out loud. I withdrew my phone again, dialled Joon's number. "It's been five minutes."

"So why do you want to punch another carer?"

"I…I…" I bent down and rubbed my aching toe. I had been in the shade for a couple of minutes. Perhaps I could ask Banana-boy to check my temperature again? "Nothing. Sorry for bothering you," I hung up, then took a deep breath.

Banana-boy didn't look all too happy to see me again. He sighed, glared at me with wary eyes. "Listen, man, I'm only doing my…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just try again okay. I'm telling ya. I was overheated because I was walking up that stupid hill."

Indeed, this time, my temperature came in at 37.1°C. "That's below low-grade fever. You got no reason not to let me in." With a grin on my face, I walked through the door, then followed the procedure of washing and sanitising my hands under supervision, entered my details and my check-in time on Banana-boy's clipboard, collected my twenty-minute pass and finally made my way up to Jimin's floor. 

The spring in my step evaporated when I stood in front of his door, fist raised to knock. Jimin had ignored me last time I'd come. Would today's greeting be any different? 

I sighed, double-checked that the chocolate bar in my backpack was not too overly melted. It was plain chocolate—his favourite, but it wasn't a Bangtan Bar. I was too broke for any of those. 

Another MOTS house bill had reached my mailbox the other week, and with no other idea on how else to get my hands on some money, I had phoned my parents. 

I tried the landline as well as mum's mobile several times, but until this day, I hadn't been successful in getting through to anyone. Saving every penny I could, including another donation, courtesy of Joon the saint, I was still short five-hundred-thousand won. 

Yoongi, stop playing chickenshit. I was about to knock on Jimin's door when a pair of footsteps came my way. "Mr Min?" 

I turned to see a young girl in scrubs standing in the corridor. Her name tag read Kang Sookie—resident nurse. She was short, a little chubby around the mid-section, but had the most adorable dimples I had ever seen. 

"Yes? Erm… I'm here to see Jimin. My brother. I passed the check-in procedure." I withdrew my negative test to hand it to her, but she waved me off. 

"I'm sure you did. Everyone adheres to all guidelines here."

"So I noticed," I grumbled under my breath, hoping Nurse Kang hadn't heard me. 

"I was hoping I could have a quick word with you beforehand."

"Umm…sure. Is everything okay?"

Instead of answering, Kang Sookie nodded towards a half-opened, half-hidden door next to the group home entrance. 

I followed her into the small, white room, that was half office, half nursing station. There was a small desk with a computer on it, and a few folders were strewn around. On the opposite wall were a medicine cupboard and an observation table, scales, and a heart monitor machine. An array of medications, odd-looking juice bottles, and a pack of adult diapers completed the picture. "Do you have Jimin wear any of these?" I pointed in the direction of various size samples. I wasn't sure I would be too happy about this. 

"No, Jimin normally isn't wearing them," Miss Kang said. 

"Normally?" 

"Mr Min. This current pandemic is hard on anyone. Our residents suffer the most, having been unable to see their families and loved ones in a long while. It had been particularly hard on Jimin, who only arrived the week prior to those hardened restrictions."

I nodded. "I wasn't able to visit him even once. Despite having…"

"So I've heard. But I'm afraid we have to adhere to government rules here." She looked at me with her open, friendly face and I knew instantly that she got me. That she didn't judge me for having tried to push my way in. She would have been the same in my shoes.

"Personally, I think it would have been better for Jimin if he had the chance to see you. We tried to tell him that you tried to visit, but that this wasn't currently possible."

"He thinks I abandoned him." 

Miss Kang bit her lip, not denying my statement. 

"Jimin did a great job trying to understand the current situation. He asked a lot of questions, and he wanted to know all about the guidelines and why exactly they were in place. But, as you noted yourself, not all restrictions and regulations even make sense to us."

"I called a couple of times. They said they put Jimin on the phone. But he never said a single word."

Kang Sookie's expression hardened. "Jimin has been struggling. In fact, I'm in contact with Dr Chen, who is a local doctor, and Ms Kwon, our psychologist, as well as the local health authorities."

"What? Why is that?"

"Didn't you receive our letters?"

I shook my head. "I received nothing at all?" 

Miss Kang looked perplexed. "But we received them back, dated and signed."

"I didn't date or sign a single thing."

"Hold on, Mr Min." Ms Kang picked up the phone and dialled a short extension. "Hello, can you put me through to administration, please?"

She looked at me apologetically while tinny holding music drifted from the receiver. Then, someone picked up the call.

"Hello, This is Kang Sookie, the resident nurse for groups six and seven. Would you please be able to check the authorisation forms for one of our residents here? A Mr Park Jimin."

"Authorisation form?" I mouthed. What had they needed an authorisation for?

There was a lot of humming and nodding and a lot of medical terms I didn't understand. Miss Kang turned to me. "The letter got sent to 268 Sagwa Street. The signature is a Mr Park Hohyun."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, but my hands balled into fists and my body shook all over. I felt like a steam train was running through my head. I needed to calm down before I opened my mouth and said something I would either regret or have me thrown out for good. Despite the emotional volcano within me, I needed to remain rational and reasonable. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. "That is…this is…my parents' address." 

"Ah, I understand. Good to hear everything is in order."

"In order? Nothing is in order!" I spat. I'm the point of contact. I'm my brother's keeper. The person currently footing all bills. How did my parents' address even end up on their files?

"Mr Min?" Miss Kang stared at me with widened eyes. She looked almost scared. 

"I'm Jimin's keeper. You should have MY address on file. I should have been the one authorising—whatever it was that needed to be authorised." I really tried to keep calm, but I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice. My lower lip was quivering. The steam train inside my head was spinning at breakneck speed. 

When Miss Kang didn't respond immediately, I lost my shit. "WHAT IS GOING ON?" "I…Erm…Allow me to retrieve Ms Eli quickly. She is the group manager." She rushed out of the door, quick as a lightning bolt. 

I felt cold of a sudden. Still shaking all over, I fell back into the chair where I started to bite off the remains of my already bitten-into-obliviation nails. My hands were anything but a pretty sight these days. What was going on?

The door opened again, and Miss Kang entered followed by a serious-looking Ms Eli.

"Yoongi," she nodded and took a seat. "Sookie, if you would be so kind and phone administration again. Please ask for their manager to join us."

Kang Sookie nodded, and picked up the receiver. Her hands shook just as much as mine. 

"Mr Min, I apologise for this. I remember filling in all forms with yourself and having your address on all documentation. We will speak to administration to see how and when the contact details have been changed." Ms Eli then turned to Ms Kang. "Have you advised Mr Min of Jimin's current circumstances?"

"No, not yet?" Miss Kang shook her head. She looked thoroughly miserable now. 

"I…I know this isn't your fault." I scratched my ear… or rather, I tried. The stumps of my nails didn't do any scratching. "Let me get you some plasters," Ms Eli said and walked to a first-aid cabinet. She handed me the plasters without a trace of judgement in her expression, and I wrapped up my bleeding fingers. I hadn't even noted how much of my nail beds I had actually removed.

"While we're waiting for the administration manager, let me fill you in on Jimin's current condition." Ms Eli sat back down and folded her hands in her lap. "For the last couple of weeks, we have noted a loss of appetite in your brother. Jimin refused to drink or eat, to a point where we had to force him."

My stomach twisted. 

"Force-feed?"

"Some of the carers had been sitting with him at mealtimes, trying to feed him. But this didn't work well, as Jimin refused to open his mouth. Same with drinking. We have been speaking to our local doctor as well as our in-house psychologist and tried to find a solution, but Jimin didn't respond well to any of their suggestions."

"What do you mean, didn't respond well?"

"None of the therapies, or ideas worked. We had tried talking to Jimin. Allowed him snacks, placed him on kitchen duty where he was supposed to help with meal preparations. But nothing worked. Our psychologist has diagnosed Jimin with severe depression, and he is now receiving medication…"

"Medication? I mean, I'm no expert, but shouldn't he be given therapy instead?"

"He will receive therapy, once this is a possibility."

"So, my brother is on meds…because thanks to this stupid pandemic he can't…"

Ms Eli shook her head. "Jimin is not physically able to do any therapy right now…" she trailed off, as there was a knock on the door. Two men entered, one of which was a pimpled, fat guy in an ill-fitting suit, the other one looked like he bathed in oil every day. 

"Mr Ho, Dr Choi," Ms Eli greeted them. "Please have a seat. This is Mr Min, Park Jimin's guardian."

"So now that everyone is here, can someone please fill me in on what exactly is going on here?" I crossed my arms, partially to look menacing, partially to hide how badly I was shaking.

Dr Choi, who was the dude that looked like he bathed in oil, exchanged a quick glance with Ms Eli, then turned to me. "After Jimin refused his meals for several weeks, I had no choice but to get him admitted to hospital this morning."

"Hospital?" I jumped out of my chair. "This morning? Why did no one tell me?" I was at the hospital this morning to get the stupid test done… If I had known…

"Jimin will be back in a couple of hours," Dr Choi shrugged. "It doesn't take much these days to install a feeding tube, and we have medical equipment on site."

"Feeding tube? You had the audacity to insert a feeding tube into my brother? Who gave you the right?"

I really wanted to punch this guy. "I need to speak to Dr Han. She would have never authorised that!"

"Your parents…."

"My parents have no right. I AM the guardian," I shouted into the room, already dialling Dr Han's ward. I needed to speak to her. I needed to prevent this from happening. They couldn't just go ahead and insert random tubes into my brother as they pleased.

"Mr Min!" Someone shouted but I had already run from the office. I needed to get to the hospital as quickly as I could. I brushed past some residents, almost running them over, out of the door, out of the building, down the very road I just climbed up. It was still over thirty degrees but I didn't give a fuck as I broke into a run. Finally, someone picked up the phone. 

"Gener…"

"Get me Dr Han! NOW! This is urgent." I gasped and must have sounded desperate enough because the person put me through without any further ado. 

"Dr Han speaking. How can I help?"

"This is Min Yoongi," I gasped. "I…erm…" I could hardly talk because I was out of breath, but I kept on running. "Jimin… owperio…"

"Calm down, Yoongi. What happened to Jimin? Is he okay?"

"Jimin… hospital… —ube…"

"I'm sorry, Yoongi. I didn't understand a word. I need you to calm down and tell me what happened."

Tears sprang to my eyes and I tried to get the words through my lips. But I couldn't stop running. 

"I'm on…way… Jimin….'pital….'eedin…'ube….NO!" I gasped. 

"Yoongi, please. I can't help you if I don't understand a word of what you're saying. Try to calm down. I can hear you're running somewhere. Please believe me when I say I can help you swifter and more effectively if you stop for five seconds, catch your breath, and explain to me what happened."

I knew Dr Han was right, and tears of frustration shot into my eyes, yet, I couldn't stop my legs. Instead, I hung up the call and continued to press forward. The faster I was at the hospital the better. I didn't have any time to lose. 

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