fragile ∾ pjm + myg

chapter one

So why didn't he remember the last time he felt true happiness?

The thing is, he really didn't mean to take it this fair. He wasn't thinking, and he was all alone in the dorms and crying his actual eyes out for god knows what reason and he didn't see it, but somehow he managed to break a glass cup while walking around in the house. Someone must have left it there and Jimin's vision was too blurry for him to actually see the cup just sitting there and before he knew he was crying even harder while kneeling on the floor and trying to clean up his own mess until a piece of the glass got stuck on his forearm and his mind focused on that instead of the screaming thoughts on his head. His eyes started to become less blurry so he could focus on the tiny slice of glass that managed to break his skin and there was a trail of blood already going down his arms, almost falling into the cream carpet that adorned the floor of their shared dorm.

Before the drop of crimson could reach it, Jimin cupped his hand under his arm, making it stain his hand instead. His hands were shaking slightly and the open cut still had the slice inside of it, but Jimin could only focus on how much he could think clearer with physical pain instead of emotional one. There was still silent tears running down his cheeks and he was sniffling a little, but he was too distracted to mind that, his eyes focused on the small but painful wound on his right arm. Before he could think about what the actual fuck he was doing, Jimin brought his wounded arm hovering over his leg, his now free hand moved over the glass, slowly easing it out of his skin, causing even more blood to ooze out of it and the painful sting became more apparent, but Jimin could only focus that this made the horrible thoughts in his head to stop trying to make him go insane. It made his mind peaceful for the first time in a whole week and he didn't seem to mind when he slowly dragged the piece of broken glass against his skin, blood slowly flowing out and the pain starting to increase, but the thoughts weren't coming back and Jimin was buzzing with relief. He could finally think .

But at what cost?

In the back of his mind he seemed to notice how his hands stopped shaking and his breath had started to even out, but Jimin was fixed in watching droplets of blood drip of the cuts, running through his arm until reaching his leg covered by the dark jeans, slightly staining the material, creating an even darker puddle where the crimson liquid touched. He didn't realized he was slowly bringing his hand with the glass up, almost touching the already fragile skin again with the sharp object but then he snapped out of it when he heard the dull sound of the front door being opened and closed, before soft steps were heard down the hallway and Jimin gasped loudly.

Fuck.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking shit–" Jimin stumbled on his own feet while trying to get up, the slice of glass falling from his hand on the carpet, staining it with blood before he took of running to the bathroom, not bothering to check who had arrived at the dorm, basically throwing himself inside the small restroom and locking the door behind him with blood stained hands. The young man was still muttering curses under his breath as he let the water on the sink clean his arm, which was stinging twice as hard as soon as the cold water hit it, the water going down the drain in a reddish tone now, and Jimin's hands were shaking again. He was so, so fucked if anyone found out about this, God what in the hell was he thinking? Right, he wasn't. He wasn't thinking and now he had two deep cuts just a little under his wrist and absolutely no way of explaining one of them.

He was absolutely fucked.

⍉

Makeup was a really wonderful thing, Jimin learned on the next few weeks.

After carefully explaining to Seokjin – who were the one who arrived at home that day – that he tripped and broke the glass cup, accidentally falling on top of it and getting two pieces of glass stuck on his skin – which had the elder at slightly alarm and wanted to take Jimin to the hospital no matter what before the younger finally convinced him that yes, he was ok and no, he wasn't going to get an infection; he opted for covering the wounds with makeup and it worked perfectly for the time needed for them to heal, so just a slightly pink scar would be what people saw. But every time he looked at his arms his mind would take him back to that day. He got more careful after that, looking out for whenever he was starting to feel too out of it, getting away from everything and just going to the practice room on the company's building, dancing until he felt like his legs would break and his heart was beating so strongly against his rib cage that he was sure it would burst open so that his heart could lay on the ground where everyone could see.