fragile ∾ pjm + myg

chapter four

He started splitting his days into good, bad and awful.

Good days were the best. They were the ones where Jimin would actually get out of bed without Yoongi or Seokjin having to drag him out and he would actually have the energy to put some effort on doing things, not moping around the corners like he often did now days. Oh no, on his good days, Jimin would be the first to whine at everyone to end dance practice earlier because he was hungry and wanted to eat something; he smiled back when his members smiled at him. Good days were amazing and Jimin cherished them, because it meant no dark thoughts consuming his mind, no fingers being put down his throat for half a protein bar, no new scars on his hip. It meant joking around, it meant playing with Jeongguk and Taehyung who always gave him those proud little smiles whenever Jimin had energy enough to go out with them. It meant being happy, even if for a day. Just for a day, Jimin could get a glimpse of what was like before his mental health came crumbling down more than it ever did before.

Bad days happened on a daily-basis. Those were the ones where he needed Yoongi to talk him out of staying in bed all day, where his stomach would clench around nothing at the sight of food, where he turned the shower temperature a little too hot because if he couldn't cut he needed something , anything to remind him that yes , he was still a breathing human being; not just a dead body walking around with a beating heart, no matter how much he felt like it. Those were the days where dancing felt more like a chore than a pleasure to him, where his voice was strained and broken when he tried to record something, where he dragged his nails up and down his arms somewhat expecting it to break his skin because he wanted to feel his skin being sliced open because only that could take his mind off how much he fucking hated himself. Bad days were beginning to turn into his normal days and he knew it was bad , he knew that what he was doing was anything but healthy but he got to a point where he didn't care anymore.

Living, dying; did it really matter that much?

And then were the awful one's. It used to happen only once a month but it went up to once a week, at least . Jimin hated them; he hated those days with every cell in his body. That kind of days were the days where he couldn't find it in himself to get up, no matter how much the others tried. He's just feeling a little under the weather , he would hear Yoongi saying outside of his bedroom, let's just let him be for today . His hyung was lying for him and he could see it in his eyes how much it hurt him seeing Jimin like this; so broken . Cause that was exactly what he was, after all. Broken, just broken; broken way beyond repair, so why would he bother telling anyone about this? Trying to reach out and get help? He was sure he was a lost case already, why would he even think about turning into even more of a burden then he already was? Awful days were the days where Jimin found himself thinking about how it would feel to jump out of the rooftop of their dorm, or the bridge near their apartment complex. A single step, that's all it would take for it all to be over. All of that hurt he felt deep within his soul would be over, but he couldn't even find the energy to do it.

He once made the mistake of voicing these thoughts on those often occasions where Yoongi would drag Jimin with him to his studio and let the younger lay on the couch while he worked for hours upon hours, both being comforted by each other's presence. Until Jimin opened his big, stupid mouth and told Yoongi he felt like a mistake; a worthless piece of shit that should've never been born and that he felt like throwing himself under a bus every time he went out on the streets. That maybe someday he would. Contrary to Jimin's believes, Yoongi didn't answer; rather just simply took his big – and probably expensive as hell – headphones and threw them on the computer table, shutting the screen off before getting up and walking towards the seat Jimin was comfortably lying on; the elder just pushed his legs out so he could take a seat, before laying besides Jimin and bringing the younger to his chest, hands softly caressing the damaged strands on Jimin's head. Jimin was too dumbstruck to have a fitting reaction so he just stayed there, head tucked into the curve of Yoongi's neck, the elder's breath lightly hitting his hair and brushing it off a bit.