"We're just two different beings, we don't fit. Like the moon and the sun." I whispered.
"What if you're wrong, what if you're the moon and I'm the sea. And I wait all day just to see you light up my dark."
A story where two worlds collide.
Mature...
**Trigger Warning** This chapter contains violence/death and mature subject matter. ⚠️
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Train Wreck - James Arthur 🎶
3.5 years earlier.
"Jimin, we're leaving in ten!"
I sighed as I looked down at my hands, covered in stains of paint from earlier. Red and purple intertwining against my skin, reminding me that this couldn't possibly be one of my worst decisions yet.
I got up and cleaned my art table, throwing my wet brushes into water and examining my canvas, another replica of hatred. Swipes of blacks and greys to resemble the darkness I was feeling day in and out. It looked like a demon was trying to crawl it's way out of the stretched material, how fitting.
"What a tragedy." I rolled my eyes.
I grabbed my wallet and headed down to meet them. My brothers. The two who made my life a living hell. Three nights ago, I found myself at the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels, drowning my feelings and wishing I was dead. Cynical? Probably. I always have struggled with depression and anxiety early on, but having a curse that caused intense gruelling pain and sharing a home with snakes didn't help me either. The same snakes that slithered their way into my life and bit me every chance I wasn't looking.
This time was no different.
It was the anniversary of my fathers death, and grief and me mixed like oil and water. He passed from cancer 10 years ago, and my mother although I loved her, followed behind him. She was a raging alcoholic and let me have the pleasure of finding her face down, when the bottle had finally won. I let on that I had a great upbringing, loving parents and didn't want for anything. Nobody needed to see that the foundation of that was full of cracks, slowly falling apart at the seams. In reality they hated each other, they fought almost everyday and somedays I felt like they had forgotten I even existed.
Finding my saving grace in the bottom of a bottle was calling the kettle black if you'd ask me.
The day I found her, I had wandered all over Times Square in a daze. Searching for god only knows what, wishing that I was anyone else. I ended up at a party that night drugged up, nearing a blackout and ultimately met Namjoon. He had a funny way of showing up to find all of us, like an angel in disguise and I've been in the house ever since. I owe him my life, but some days it feels harder to breathe, harder to be me.
I caved that night of the anniversary and confronted J.K. feeling like if I didn't get the answers I wanted, I wasn't going to make it to morning. I told him that I had had enough of being a shut in, I just wanted to not feel like myself for once. I was tired of fighting with him and Tae, tired of competing over every little thing. They were all I had now, I just wanted to build something so I could feel like the loss in my chest was filled, even if it was on false pretences. They both agreed and invited me out with them, to let loose and try to forget what hell my mind was in.
