fragile ∾ pjm + myg

chapter twenty-two

It's been four days and Jimin don't know what to do anymore.

They've been treating him like glass, and he knew this would happen, he fucking knew but it doesn't make it any better. It doesn't make it any better that Jeongguk is back at not looking him in the eyes, that Seokjin checks up on him every single second, that Hoseok is careful with the jokes he makes around him; that Namjoon is now breathing down his throat because of course they don't trust him anymore, doesn't make shit better that Taehyung looks at him with pity filled with concern.

It doesn't help that now Yoongi hugs him so tight when they sleep that Jimin's scared the elder is gonna break him. But he brought it on himself.

So much for promising himself not to break anymore promises, and in the first opportunity he has, he fucks everything up again like he always does because that's all Jimin's worth for. Fucking up things and breaking promises until everybody hates him as much as he hates himself because maybe them he'd manage to kill himself without guilty trying to swallow his chest whole. Like the fucking coward he really is and always will be.

His thighs burn at every second in dance practice and he can feel everyone's stares even when he refuses to look at them, escaping from the tense atmosphere every time he can. Doesn't make eye contact with Yoongi anymore whenever the elder drags him to the bathroom so they could change the bandage that Jimin didn't give two shits about but the rapper did and he just didn't have the energy to fight it. Yoongi's hands were shaking every time. Namjoon tried to make him take a few days off - like he wasn't already holding everyone down with him, a dead weight that nobody had the courage to throw out - but he didn't back off, refusing to stay at home looking at the ceiling, left to wonder when did things get this bad.

It all really started going down when their practice ended for the day but before they could leave, their choreographer held him back, saying he wanted to talk with Jimin. He felt the stares as everyone in the room stopped for a few seconds until Sungdeuk told them to leave and that it wouldn't take long, so Jimin waited, his bad weighing down on his shoulder while he shifted anxiously from one feet to the other, listening everyone's steps disappearing as they slowly walked out of the practice room. The singer's eyes were on the ground; he rarely ever looked someone in the eyes now, too scared that they would see how fucking pathetic he really was.

"So," the dancer started, leaning against the wall next to the full body mirror, "Bang asked me to talk to you."

That made him snap his head up, eyes blown wide, "What, why? Did I do som-"

"He's worried about you, Jimin, we all are," the man's voice was low but it still echoed in the room, spinning right into Jimin's conscious and making him aware of the guilty on his chest once again, "He wanted to talk to you himself but a meeting came up so he asked me instead."

Jimin lowered his gaze once more, the sound of his heartbeats pulsing against his skull so loudly that he was sure the other could hear it, "I'm good, there's nothing to be worried about." Fake it till you make it, right? "I'm just going through some stuff but I'll deal with it, I'll try harder. It won't become a problem." Or at least he hopes so.

"That's not what in question here and you know it," the elder's voice was hard and Jimin flinched at the tone even when he didn't want to. The dancer sighed, slowly making his way to Jimin and gently grabbing the younger's shoulders in a comforting hold, "He asked me to talk to you about the tour. He wants to know if you think you can handle going or if you want to keep holding it until you feel better. It's up to you, not us, not Namjoon. You take the call this time."

"I can go," he doesn't think he can, "It's ok, tell him that we'll go. That's my final decision, I can do this." But he has to.

Jimin went back to the dorm looking outside of the car window, head against one of Yoongi's shoulders and fingers laced between his thighs as he tried to keep it warm, praying to everything he knew that he didn't fuck this up. Not this. He was done holding them down, and he was gonna prove them that he wasn't a pathetic depressed, fragile boy who couldn't do shit.