iris | yoonmin

chapter one

(i'm just going to say it now—this book WILL have possibly triggering themes and scenes. i WILL NOT add trigger warnings for every individual chapter. im sorry:( also, it is not my goal in anyway to romanticize depression, anxiety, or suicide (i'm reaching for the exact opposite) so if i overstep any boundaries pls let me know!! this is the first story i'm writing with the full intention to finish it so it will suck at first but hopefully i'll figure things out with time. please, please read with caution, this gets pretty angsty <3)

If Jimin could have a superpower, he'd choose invisibility without a doubt. Unfortunately, superpowers were not real, so the closest thing to it—or the closest thing to the benefits of being invisible, at least—was perhaps this moment.

Sitting in the shower with his knees tucked to his chest, he could almost imagine anything to be real, with the constant pounding of the water blocking out all distractions and noises—okay, well, it nearly blocked out the sounds of his tiny sobs and, well, barely blocked out the sound of his dad pounding on the bathroom door telling him to get the fuck out of the shower.

Besides that, he could pretend he was someone or somewhere else, his imagination probably also stimulated by the calming feeling of the water hitting his back and the slight vibrations against the floor of the shower. Maybe this is why he spent so long in the shower, because he really fucking wanted to be someone or somewhere else, away from his shitty life and shitty family.

That's why he wanted to be invisible. No one could bother him if they didn't know where he was, and maybe his crippling anxiety could be helped at the same time.

Jimin found himself once again pondering the pros of invisibility for two short minutes before he quickly remembered his father's earlier order and stood as quickly as he could without slipping, rushing to lather and rinse his hair as fast as possible. He had instantly picked up on the slightly off tone to his father's voice. Jimin's father didn't particularly slur or lose motor-ability when he was drunk. He could only tell by his extra-short temper and unfunny jokes when his father had had too much alcohol.

Jimin quickly found his way to his bedroom, where he changed into pajamas and curled up under his heavy comforter. Tomorrow was going to be another repetitive day of his life and Jimin wanted nothing more than for it to end.

He didn't consider himself suicidal in the strictest terms of the word—as if a coward like him would even have the guts to do something like that—though he wouldn't necessarily mind if he didn't happen to wake up the next morning (or any of what would've been the rest of his mornings, for that matter).

He hated this dull cycle of student life that basically consisted of (1) wake up (2) force a smile for 8 hours (3) finally go home but end up Googling the most painless way to die as you remember homework (4) get scolded by parents (5) cry yourself to sleep—if he even had the energy at that point. Occasionally, there may be some reprieve from this grievous routine when he finds the motivation to draw or write though the relief was brief.

No, lately he was pondering something even more potent but a hundred times more dangerous. A year ago, no matter how depressed he thought he was, he knew he would never want to do something like that. Jimin understood how bad of a decision it was and knew whatever the effect would be wouldn't be worth it. Yet, as the days melted together and drained by faster and faster, he found himself questioning the action more and more.

His sudden inability to really care anymore scared him if he thought too hard about it, but lately even thinking was beginning to be too much. He was on autopilot, if you will. At some point he had flipped some switch in his brain and was living purely by instinct. If his parents or friends had noticed, they usually didn't say anything.