fragile ∾ pjm + myg

chapter nineteen

Jimin stomachs rumbled and clenched uncomfortably, making the singer frown while dragging his arms closer around his torso, willing the pain to go away and his mind to distract himself from it. He only sighed and nodded when Taehyung asked if he was okay, curling more into himself while hoping that the eldest rapper wouldn't take too long on the shower; he wished so hard he could just lie down on his boyfriend's arms and finally let his body relax. Boyfriend, Jimin would never get fucking tired of repeating that on his mind, even if he was yet to say it for real. They haven't talked about what they were now, not really, but it was implied on the stolen kisses when they were sure no one was around, on the goodnight's whispered against each other's lips as they fell asleep feeling safe on the arms of someone they loved dearly. It's been so long that Jimin had felt something close to being truly love and wanted that he didn't know what to do with the feeling even two weeks later.

He had yet to talk with Taehyung about what was happening, or anyone at all for that matter; and he was pretty sure Yoongi didn't tell anyone yet. Jimin wanted to tell someone, to tell Taehyung, but he didn't know how, all of this was still so new and weird that he was having a hard time getting used to it. He didn't want to create false hopes to someone else around what they were having in case everything fell apart; he couldn't do that to any of them, but he especially couldn't do that to himself. But even as Jimin kept repeating that to himself inside his mind, he could still feel hope blooming on his chest, a tiny flower bud that kept growing and growing no matter how the singer kept trying to keep it at bay, keep it at the back of his mind where he couldn't reach and let himself hope that something good like this could actually happen to him.

"Jimin hyung?" his name being called snapped him out of his train of thoughts, forcing him to open his eyes and look up, seeing Jeongguk peeking out of the corridor's wall staring at him. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall down on his best friend's thigh once more, mumbling an "yeah?" while throwing one of his arms on top of his eyes to block out the light from above, "I think you accidentally took one of my sweaters, can I look in your closet?"

"Sure, go ahead, Guk," Taehyung's fingers were distracting on his head, caressing his scalp while going through his phone with his other hand, sparing only a glance to the youngest member before going back to focusing on the device at hand. Jimin directed his attention to Jeongguk's footsteps, forcing himself to ignore the scent of food in the air that was making his stomach curl and curl and curl until he felt like someone was stabbing him, clenching his jaw, refusing to let the whimper trapped inside his throat get out. He focused on the low chatter on the kitchen, on the voices coming out from the TV speakers; on how he was sure he heard the shower being turned off but couldn't have certain on it. Jimin slowly managed to block out the the smell and felt his mind slowly drifting away from every single thought of food that had crossed his mind in the past hours, enjoying the feeling of Taehyung's slender fingers playing restlessly with his hair. He could feel himself almost falling asleep to it, brain slowly shutting off and body relaxing against the leather couch, arm going loose around his waist.

But the spell had to be broken eventually, but it came faster and the hit was harder than Jimin expected it to be, but nothing was ever easy on his life, now was it?

"Hyung?" Jeongguk's voice was small but what really alerted Jimin that something was wrong was when Taehyung's hand suddenly froze on his head, the singer feeling how tensed the younger had become in a matter of seconds. He opened his eyes and pushed himself up, creasing his brows as he tried to adjust to the lightning once again, turning his head to the youngest who was standing at the beginning of the hall, something orange caught between his hands. Jimin's brain took exactly two seconds to connect the dots and he tensed, eyes fixed on the bright orange that covered the blades he had hidden at the back of his closet. Fucking stupid.

"It's not what you think," his voice came out weaker than he intended to, throat clogged up and vocal cords refusing to work while he got up from the couch, waking in unsteady but fast steps at Jeongguk, "I-I promise it's not what it looks like."

"Then please explain what does it looks like, Jimin, because this is pretty clear to me," Taehyung's voice was tense behind him and Jimin felt tears stinging on his eyes but he refused to cry. His mouth opened and closed, brain searching for something, anything, but coming out empty handed, both pair of eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to explain this to them, tell them that they got it all wrong. But there wasn't an answer, because Jimin knew they wouldn't believe him if he said that he didn't do it, that he has been clean for months now no matter how much it hurt and how much it drove him crazy more days than not; couldn't give that excuse because the parcel was open when he had been playing with the idea one too many times, night's were Yoongi's arms weren't enough to keep the dark thoughts out.

He looked up and he could see the disappointment clear as the day sky on Taehyung's eyes, and he knew he would find the same look on Jeongguk's, because they all were thinking about the time Jimin swore on his life that he didn't have any more blades, that they could trust him. That was weeks ago and Jimin had had those blades hidden away for longer than that and he felt his heart breaking a bit more as he realized he had once again broke the trust his member had so faithfully put on him.

Turns out his life never was really worth anything for him, the promise becoming empty as soon as it left his lips.

So he did what he was always good at doing; he ran, because maybe if he ran enough from his problems they would eventually disappear. The logic worked just fine on his head, but not really in reality, so when he made his way around Jeongguk and bumped into Jin getting out of the kitchen, there were tears running down his cheeks already, head filled with what a fucking waste of space he really is and how the only thing he ever do is disappoint everyone around him.

The elder grabbed onto his shoulders, too slow to notice the tears on the younger's eyes as he smiled at him, "Whoa, slow down. Dinner's ready and-"

"I'm not hungry." he mumbled, voice coming out close to a whimper as he pulled himself out of the eldest member's grip and walked down the hall on a quick pace, turning his face when he saw Yoongi walking in the direction of the living room, his boyfriend drying his hair with a towel, smiling when he saw Jimin approaching him but frowning just as fast when he noticed the younger's expression.

"Minnie?" the elder's voice showed his confusion but Jimin ignored it, even if it hurt his whole being doing it, entering their shared room and banging the door closed behind him, not bothering to lock it since he knew Yoongi wouldn't come at him first, but rather let him cool down so they could talk later on with ease. But calming down seemed like such an strange concept to Jimin as the first sob left his mouth, hands gripping his neck as he slid down the door, banging his head hard against the wood. Stupid, so fucking stupid, he should've gotten rid of those before something like this happened, what was he even thinking. They were bound to find those one day, it was doomed to happen but Jimin didn't get rid of the fucking things because he just couldn't, couldn't throw away the only thing that made him feel alive for many months before everything went to shit. He couldn't and it hurt knowing he was so dependent on an object like that. It hurt knowing that in order to feel something he needed to slice his skin open because sometimes, sometimes just Yoongi wasn't enough.

Sometimes Jimin's mind was too loud and no love, no affection could shut that down except the blade dancing across his scarred skin. Because just like his skin, just like the hundred scars on his thighs and hips Jimin would never be whole, and he needed to stop tricking himself into thinking that maybe he'd get to be happy someday.

People like Jimin don't get happy endings, they get cold skin and an inexistent heartbeat.