Milk boy // Yoonmin

9 Hours

--TW--

Jimin was sitting in his room. Thoughts were racing through his head, and a small voice kept overpowering everything with the words. 'Do it'.

Jimin hated himself for even considering following what the voice told him, but as he glanced over at the pill bottle on his nightstand, he couldn't help but feel they were the way out of this miserable existence he was living. He had thought about it a lot before, but that was back when he hadn't met Yoongi. Jimin had been naive enough to believe that he could start fresh and begin a new life with Yoongi. But here he was, back at square one, lonely and depressed.

Jimin grabbed the pill bottle. He didn't even know if they could kill him. He had just taken the first pills he could find in the house that wasn't vitamins.

He popped the lid off, and his hands began shaking. Was he scared? Not really. He honestly didn't care about his life anymore, and part of him doubted if Yoongi still cared. But realistically, no person would ever feel completely secure when faced with the possibility of dying, hence, why his body reacted this way.

Jimin looked at the pills, and as he was about to pour some out into his hand, he reconsidered. He remembered this quote he had once read that said, 'suicide doesn't end the pain. It just passes it onto someone else'.

That quote was part of the reason he'd never gone through with it. He didn't want to be that selfish, but now, who was he going to hurt? Who would miss him? Hoseok had told him no one liked him and taking into account how cold Yoongi had been lately, he might've been right.

Jimin tightly squeezed his eyes shut as he recalled every nice moment he and Yoongi had shared. Was this really the right decision? Or was there a chance Yoongi still cared for him?

Jimin breathed out deeply, placing the bottle on the nightstand again. He had to make sure. He walked out of his room and across the hall. One last chance, his last hope.

He knocked on Yoongi's door.

"Come in," Yoongi answered.

Jimin opened the door and stepped inside.

"Yoongi, can we talk?" He asked. Feeling a hint of déjà vu as he waited for an answer. Right now, they were not at work, so he should be able to talk.

"My God, Jimin, have some patience! We can talk later, so if you have nothing important to say, then just leave. I am really tired," Yoongi groaned as he turned over in bed so that his back was now facing Jimin.

Jimin had gotten his answer. With a hollow feeling in his chest, he returned to his room, dragging his feet as he knew what came next.

He sat down in the same spot, looking at the same bottle. His body was sad, Jimin could tell from the tears falling from his eyes, but his brain was not feeling anything. No sadness, no anger, no happiness. Just numb.

Jimin picked up the bottle again and poured as many pills as he could hold into his hand. He almost laughed at the stupid thought that crossed his mind--Should he take them with water? As if it mattered.

He looked over at the painting on the wall--Le Suicidé. A painting he had thought was gruesome upon his first arrival, but now he resonated with it. He now understood the man in the painting. Jimin took one final deep breath before swallowing as many pills as he could without choking. It was hard. Perhaps he should've gotten water. He fell onto his back, tears still falling from his eyes. But what was the point of crying? It was too late now anyway. Then a scary thought struck him. Was he regretting it? Did he not want to die?