Chapter 8: Rose cheeks dull from the mud

                                    

                                          
🥀YOONGI🥀
My eyes moved behind my heavy eyelids. I fought against the deep waters of unconsciousness that seemed to be holding my body down under its warm embrace.
As I opened my eyes, I noticed the fluffy blanket covering my body, and the smooth pillow under my head, along with the faded scent of cherry blossoms. My movements were lethargic as if I was just coming out of deep anesthesia. 
When I sat up, I took a look around the place I spent the night at. The lights were off, but the first rays of the morning came in through the window, giving the room a light yellow color. My nose captured the faint smell of coffee and tea. In fact, when I looked at the coffee table in front of the couch I was sleeping on, I could see empty mugs cluttered together with medicine boxes. 
I remembered when I walked in here for the first time and how the same table had empty packages of very unhealthy food laying around, which the woman had hurried to get out of my line of sight as if I would give a flying fuck about the mess after what I went through. 
Thinking about her made me unconsciously look around the room for her. And I found her sitting on the floor, using her arm as a pillow, leaning on the seat of the armchair, a blanket draped over her bent legs. 
I moved silently trying to get a good look at her. I hadn't exactly paid close attention to her features since our first encounter back in the alley. It was dark and cold, the rain didn't help, but I did remember seeing her worried eyes. And as we made our way out of the hospital the night before, I was so shaken and confused by the whole ordeal that I couldn't remember her features that well. 
But now, with the warm rays of the sun coming through the window illuminating her face, I could finally look at the woman that had saved me for who knows what reason. 
Her dark hair was tied in a low ponytail, with some strands escaping from the elastic. Under the low light, it gained a chocolate brown glow. The arm she was using as a pillow squished her cheek, making her plump lips project forward. Her fringe was partially covering her eyes, but I could see dark circles under them indicating that she was probably used to not resting for too long. Either that or she would rescue nearly dying people from her alley often. 
A dying person. That's what I was yesterday. The events were still fuzzy and confusing. 
I remembered being in so much pain and being filled with so much hatred and despair. The loss and the feeling of absolute powerlessness as I watched the two people that I loved being tortured and die in front of my eyes made my heart clench, and I had to close them to hold back the tears. 
And as I did so, I tried to remember their faces or just what they had done to me, but it didn't matter how hard I tried I just couldn't. It was like knowing the words to your favorite song, but not its melody. I was only able to remember how they had made me feel. 
I took a deep breath, still keeping my eyes closed, concentrating on what I recalled during the night. I could see the cottage and even how the furniture inside that place was positioned. If I tried, I could even remember the color of their shirts but nothing else. 
I remembered now my brief conversation with Death, the deal we made, and waking up at the morgue to then end up here, but back then I had no idea what was going on, what had happened to me, or why I was laying on a table designated for the dead only. When I saw the two people that helped me get out of there, I just panicked. My memory seemed to have vanished completely and as the woman was trying to coax me out of my freaked out state, for an even scarier moment, I couldn't remember my own name. 
Slowly as we made our way to the bathroom, small pieces of information started to come back. 
My name is Min Yoongi, I thought.