It hadn't taken me an hour to figure out why Min Yoongi had been adamant that his brother shouldn't go to the care home with me. Naturally, I hadn't listened to anything he told me but grabbed my little friend, wrapped him in a coat and winter boots, and off we went to my working place. What could go wrong? ChimChim loved to socialise and old people usually loved ChimChim.
Things, of course, hadn't gone accordingly to plan. We had barely made it to the living room, where ChimChim was now rolling on the floor, sobbing and wailing while violently smacking his head.
Just out of curiosity, I texted Min Better-Never-Find-Out-About-This, why didn't you want me to take ChimChim to work with me? I needed my message to sound casual. As if I was simply enquiring out of curiosity. And hopefully, his answer would provide some insight into this admittedly scary behaviour.
"ChimChim," I tried to soothe for the millionth time, squatting beside my friend. "ChimChim, listen to me."
But ChimChim was beyond listening. He cried as if I had taken him to the seventh circle of Dante's hell rather than a cosy-looking flat with wrapped in a million Christmas decorations.
A curious pair of sensible footsteps approached from the proximity of the kitchen, then my coworker kneeled down next to us. "Come on, buddy," Frieda's voice was like liquid honey-covered valium, "why don't you sit up and we have some lovely hot cocoa? You like hot cocoa, don't you?" The steaming cup in her hands that came dangerously close to ChimChim's flailing arms. An exhausted but hopeful expression was plastered onto her slightly sweaty face. I was looking for signs of resentment, but if there were any, it was hidden well behind her plain and sterile-looking face covering. I couldn't blame her. I had trying to calm ChimChim for at least twenty minutes now, time that I was supposed to have spent with the residents. Speaking of whom… everyone had retreated to their own rooms, doors closed. Keeping their distance from the ruckus ChimChim and I created.
"I really don't know what's wrong with him?" I apologised then checked my phone to see if Min TrainDriver had already answered. But I guess navigating a train and answering a phone was too much multitasking for a work trial shift, I suppose.
"We will have to call an ambulance," Frieda responded, her concerned eyes glued to ChimChim's temples. Beyond upset, he had started ripping out his hair in chunks.
"Shit!" I cursed. Just why the fuck did I never listen when someone provided me with instructions?
"ChimChim," I tried again, "do you want to go home? We can watch all episodes of In The Soop if you like?" I glanced at Frieda who technically hadn't given me the day off (yet). But she just nodded, her expression concerned.
"I've never seen little Jimin act like this," she muttered.
Under normal circumstances, I would have found her calling him 'little' hilarious, considering he was half a head taller than her. Although…I guess if one compared body mass…
"You know ChimChim?" I asked instead in confusion.
Frieda threw me an 'are-you-an-idiot'-kind of look, but I only shrugged because I truly was an idiot, although I wasn't quite sure what stupid thing I had done on this particular occasion.
"I'm their neighbour," she finally sighed.
"But you're never home," I protested. "Not even your own doorknob recognises you."
"Because you're only ever there on the weekends when I work double shifts. But I'm off every other Wednesday and see the boys around." Frieda huffed, then turned slightly red in the face. "And I hate this stupid fingerprint sensor they installed. I mean, what's wrong with a regular door code? I have this issue all the time with my fingerprint. I swear it's the latex gloves I wear all day. They swell up my fingers like crazy."
Frieda held her paw up, as if to prove a point. Her hands looked normal to me, but she had spent the last hour in the kitchen, not in the bathroom taking care of everyone's hygienic needs.
"Do you have any idea what's wrong with him then?" I asked with a newfound flutter of hopefulness. Frieda had known to get ChimChim cocoa. So she knew of his chocolaty preferences…
"I don't know little Jimin well," Frieda admitted, and my heart sank back down to the floor. "I only ever see or hear him sing or talk to his brother. I would think something triggered him. Do you have any idea what that might have been?"
"Trigger?"
Frieda stood up and wiped her hands on her apron. The cup still placed on the floor, not quite out of ChimChim's reach. I picked it up and placed in on a counter, and Frieda nodded her head in thanks.
"Did he have any bad experiences? With like, a hospital, or a care home, or anything of the sort?" She asked.
I halted in my tracks. "I think Min Grumpy might have mentioned something. But I'm not a hundred percent sure."
"Buddy?" Frieda tried addressing my friend again. "Do you want to go home? And watch your favourite TV show with Taehyung?"
There was still no reaction. ChimChim was too deep in his tantrum to even hear us. I swear his crying got even louder and assumed it was only a matter of time until someone would call the police on us. I knew very well the story of ChimChim being taken into custody and held in a cell overnight, until Officer Joon intervened. It was an event that had shaken both brothers to the core and each had their own versions of nightmares from the event. Trust me when I say that seeing Min Fearless wake up from a nightmare, shivering and with tears streaming down his face and then rush to his brother's room to check whether ChimChim is okay is one of the most delicate things I ever got to witness. I felt like an intruder for just being there. But it also gave me a deeper understanding for the love he felt for his brother and I was glad to see just how unconditionally my little friend was loved and cared for.
On the other hand, I knew he would personally graft the guillotine to behead me with, should I bring his brother into this sort of situation again. My tummy twisted.
"Isn't there anything you can do?" I asked with a layer of desperation in my quivering voice, "give him a tranquilliser of some sort?" I knew there was plenty of this stuff in the medicine cabinet. "You're trained in handing out meds."
Frieda shook her head, "I can't just start handing out medication at random."
"But this is an emergency," I protested. I'm not kidding when I tell you that ChimChim's decibels easily reached the two-hundreds. He was genuinely louder than any nightclub I've ever been to.
"I don't know anything about little Jimin's medical history. Not what he is allergic to or what dosage he would require. That would need to be assessed by a doctor first. Unless, there is something in place already, but I can't find a medical ID on your friend."
A sense of relief washed through my system. "He wears a bracelet," I told her and tried to get hold of ChimChim's right arm. Min Diligent made sure to have ChimChim carry all relevant details wherever he went: His handicap ID that allowed him free travels, his mask-exemption badge ChimChim always wore attached to his shirt or jacket, a business cared with Yoongi's contact details, and the bracelet with ChimChim's medical requirements in case of any emergency.
But trying to get hold of my friend's wrist turned out to be a very bad idea. ChimChim kept flailing, and with his sharp fingernails, he managed to scratch my cheek. All had happened within the span of a few milliseconds. Before I could comprehend anything, I felt blood trickling down my chin before I could feel a piercing pain. Immediately my hands raised to my face. It wasn't a massive injury, as ChimChim fortunately didn't have Baywatch-barbie types of claws. But it felt like the scratch of an angry, little kitten. One glance at ChimChim's fingernails was enough to have my stomach twist to send my lunch back up the wrong way. I swallowed hard as I looked at the reddish little half-moons. There was a small trace of blood behind his nails. Blood! My contaminated blood. Shit! Shit! Shit!
With newfound determination, I jumped on my friend's back and, trying my best to restrain him, I tried to get hold of both of his wrists. ChimChim's wails increased even more in volume, his body jolting as if electrocuted. He looked like the literal fish out of water.
I felt like a monster doing this to him when he was already in a panicked state, but I needed to wipe his hands clean before he could get my blood into his mouth...or worse...mixed it with his own.
"Stop it!" Frieda yelled from behind me and pulled my elbow, her voice having raised by a few octaves, "you're hurting him!"
I wanted to cry. I knew I was hurting him. I knew he would be scared of me—probably for the rest of his life….
"Get some sanitiser," I swallowed, feeling a traitorous stinging sensation behind my own eyes. My lip quivered when I looked up at Frieda. Here went nothing. "He's got my blood on his hands. I…I…SHIT!" I couldn't get the words out of my mouth and swallowed hard. Shrugging I said, "I explain later. J-just please do as I say."
Fortunately, Frieda got up without any further ado and her footsteps disappeared in the direction of the medical cupboard and returned a moment later with sanitising wipes, spray, plaster, and a pack of the dreaded latex gloves. Wordlessly, she put them on, then reached for ChimChim's left hand and started wiping them clean.
I could only imagine how barbaric what we did looked to anyone happening to tumble in on us at that moment. A pig at the butcher's couldn't have sounded that desperate. Trust me when I say you haven't heard anyone panicking unless you witnessed ChimChim that very moment.
"No, not hurting me please, not hurting me, NOT HURTING MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" He cried, getting even louder and I wanted nothing more than cry along with him.
"ChimChim, please. We're only trying to help you…" I trailed off, feeling like the biggest liar on the planet.
Inside my head, I heart Putin laugh. Should have thought of that before you took little ChimChim along, shouldn't you? A friend would have looked after his needs, but instead you only thought of yourself when you took him along with you to the care home. You're selfish, Taehyung. Admit it. You're the most selfish brat on this planet. You don't waste a single thought on your buddy's feelings unless they start to inconvenience you. Just look at him. Look at him rolling on the floor and hurting himself. You did that! You did that to him!
"Just to let you know, I also called the ambulance," Frieda advised in a dry tone. Gone was her usual friendliness or cheerfulness. She almost sounded…cold. Disappointed. I guess she agreed with Putin on me.
"Let me do that," I put on a pair of gloves as well and started cleaning my friends' hands. ChimChim should be upset with me, not with caring and loving Frieda. Taking ChimChim's little cold hand in mine, I started to sing Count van Count's counting song at the top of my lungs.
That was too much. All barriers broke and tears started falling freely from my face but I didn't bother wiping them away.
Carefully, I wiped one little finger after the other, until it was squeaky clean, repeating the same song over and over again. My vision got blurrier each time my shaky voice reached the chorus. I took a second to throw my glasses aside, but even that didn't do anything to improve my vision. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Tomorrow, I would pack my bags and move back to the therapy center. All I did was doing harm to the people I liked, so it was better to be firmly locked away from them.
"I like counting," sounded a hoarse little voice from somewhere below me.
"I know you do. And I know you love counting chocolate bars the most," I answered in equally sandpapery tones.
"I love counting chocolate bars the mostestest," ChimChim agreed then went quiet again. For a moment, there was nothing but the canned sound of a TV in the background, reporting about a stupid snowstorm that was supposed to be happening…somewhen sometime.
"I live here now?" He asked in a subdued voice, his body now almost too still. I tensed up. A too-still ChimChim never was a good sign.
"You live with your brother in the house across the street."
"The blue house with the big red number on top and the staircase with the purple flower vase?"
"Exactly that house," I confirmed.
"I'm not living here now?" Why would ChimChim think I took him to live here? We neither brought a suitcase, nor did I make any mentioning of him remaining here? And hadn't he noticed that everyone here was at least a hundred years old?
"ChimChim," I sat up and motioned my friend to do the same, then I reached for both his hands. "This is an elderly people's home."
ChimChim's eyes looked glassy. Empty. Locked in the distance. His cheeks were raw and blotchy from the tears he had cried, and it was painful just to look at them.
"Only really, really old people live here."
ChimChim cocked his head. "How old?"
"Very, very old."
ChimChim seemed to consider this. "I'm a really, really old person?"
"You're a very, very young person."
ChimChim seemed to consider this for a second, "and my Yoongi-hyungie?"
"Yooooooooongi-hyungie may act like a grandpa at times, but he's a very, very young person, too."
ChimChim glanced to the exit and back.
"We're only here to visit the really, really old people who live here. Because it's Christmas, you know, and everyone loves Christmas visitors."
"Yoongi-hyungie doesn't love kiss-mush-weezy-tours because Yoongi-hyungie says they make too much mess and eat all of our hair." ChimChim protested while twirling one of my locks between his fingers. "I don't like kiss-mush-weezy-tours because I don't like kiss-mush-weezy-tours eating my hair."
"It's only a figure of speech," I explained. "Eating the hair of someone's head means that something costs a lot of money. And it's not cheap to feed a lot of guests. But no one is eating your actual scalp."
"No one is allowedded to eating my hair," ChimChim announced. "And the really old people are not allowededed to eat my hair, too."
"Most of these really, really old people don't even have teeth," I assured him. "Now, would you like to meet them?" I got up and held my hand out to ChimChim.
Please, god, please! I will even start going to motherfucking church!
ChimChim warily glanced at the individual doors behind which the residents were hiding. "I don't need living here?" He asked one more time.
"You need to live with Mr Min Helpless Yoongie-hyungie. Who else is going to look after the poor sod if you're gone?"
"I need looking after Yoongi-hyungie?"ChimChim looked at me with rounded eyes.
"Very much so. Min Helpless needs a lot of looking after," I assured my friend.
ChimChim finally got up from the ground, dusted his jeans then looked around and marched towards the exit. "I'm going now?"
"You are free to leave whenever you like," I advised him, although my stomach kept practising somersaults. Keeping his eyes on me, ChimChim took another step closer to the door, then another one and another. He almost reached the handle when Frieda tapped me on the shoulder and I span around.
"Perhaps it's best little Jimin stays for dinner," she whispered in my hear. "Just look outside. It's snowing like crazy."
Indeed, snowflakes were writhing outside the window like drunk and misguided bullets. A loud gust of wind bent surrounding trees into submission. Even the sun had decided to take an early leave and had retreated back into the sky making twelve noon look like seven o clock at night.
"Hey, buddy?" Frieda smiled at ChimChim, then held out the mug of probably-no-longer-hot cocoa to my little friend. "How about you help Taehyung bake Christmas cookies before you leave? You can take some home to Yoongi, too. I bet he would love that."
Frieda's clenched jaw and furrowed brows told me that she carried just as much tension as I did.
Immediately, the corners of ChimChim's mouth dropped to the ground with the force of an earthquake. "I'm not going home now?" He asked carefully.
"ChimChiminie, of course you are free to leave any time you want. But the weather is really nasty outside. That's why we think it's better to stay here, Just for a very little time. And only if you want."
ChimChim shook his head. "I'm not wanting." He said, reaching the door and throwing it open wide.
"You can't let him leave in these conditions, Taehyung, that's dangerous." Frieda shrieked and seemed to be ready to rush after my friend.
"I can't keep him here. I can't break my promise." I called after her.
"Well, go with him then." Frieda threw my hat my way and I felt like the biggest fool on the planet. I was supposed to be helping her. I was supposed to be looking after the residents. I bit my lip. Just what was the fucking right thing to do?
