Tired

The Truth

After the whole ordeal Yoongi led him to his studio, "I promise I'll come back after practice, ok?"

So Jimin now sits on a leather couch in Yoongi's studio, which was more comfortable than he thought it would be. There's a soft blanket Jimin bundled himself with, he was always cold nowadays. Maybe it was the lack of nutrients, or maybe it was just his anxiety.  

It was eerily quiet in the studio, the only noise you could hear were the vents crashing against each other. To Jimin this was hell, trapped in a silent room with nothing but your thoughts is a dangerous game. 

He tried to fight against himself, he tried to think of the members and how disappointed they would be, how hurt Yoongi would feel. 

He tried. God how hard Jimin tried to not give in.

His arms itched for the familiar feeling, they yearned and cried for the cold medal to slice his skin. How amazing the burning sensation would feel. The voices in his head constantly screaming at him to do it, one more won't hurt.

Jimin slowly raises his head and throws the blanket to the side.

Sliding his hand into his pocket he grips the familiar cold blade. 

Pulling it out he stares, and stares.

The dried blood sends Jimin into the past, all the other times he's been desperate enough to use the same razor he always kept in his pocket. The old memories haunting his skin.

Rolling up his left sleeve he presses the cold metal down on his skin, and he drags horizontally.

A wave of relief fills his body, the voices in his head quieting.  The air in the vents calming down ever so slightly. And Jimin releases a huge breath of relief.

It was euphoric, the dragging on his skin.  The burning that eased his pain. 

It was a dangerous addiction he had, Jimin didn't think anyone cared in the first place. That was until Yoongi held him while he fell apart in his arms.

Jimin raises the blade for another, when suddenly the doorknob started twisting suddenly.

Jimin swiftly pulls down his sleeve in lightning speed and put the razor back in his pocket. The material of his sweatshirt dragging harshly on his wounds. Jimin keeps his hand on the injury, so blood won't stop dripping down his arm. He doesn't Rember if it was deep or not.  

"Jimin, how are you feeling?" Yoongi closes the door softly behind him as he walks through the studio towards Jimin's side.

"I'm ok." Jimin tries to casually bring the soft blanket over himself without causing any suspicion. He can never tell with this Hyung. his face always stays calms in the most anxiety inducing situations.

"Do you feel any better?" His gaze staring softly but intently at the same time.

He knows.

He knows somethings up.

He's going to tell everyone.

Despite Jimin's racing thoughts he tries to keep his voice steady. 

"Yeah, I feel a little better." Jimin clears his throat as he moves his left arm cautiously under the blanket he had, "Thank you for helping me, Hyung." 

Yoongi nods, lost in thought. One of the things Jimin loved and hated most about him.

"Jimin, when was the last time you ate?" 

Jimin was about to tell him his usual answer, the one that would always roll off his tongue naturally. But when Jimin really looked into Yoongis eyes, something was different.