He's my light VMIN

Chapter Twelve

He quietly opened the bathroom door, and closed and locked it behind him. He emptied his bladder, and washed his hands before wiping cold water over his face. Sitting down on the edge of the bath he could just see his face in the bottom of the mirror above the sink, and he HATED it. He stared at himself, listing all the things he hated on his face. The ugly brown freckles by his left eye that were so obvious when he smiled, his chubby cheeks that would redden for no reason making him look like a tomato, his fat hideous lips that were currently chapped and split, and of course his mud brown eyes. He had dyed his hair blonde on impulse one day, he thought it couldn't have made him look worse, but he was wrong. The orange tone to the blonde made him look paler, and the bleach had dried his hair out so it looked like straw.

He didn't need the thoughts in his head to point out anything to him tonight. He stared at the disaster that was his face, and he knew they had been telling him the truth. He was just... well ... worthless.

He shook his head and stood up to head back to his room, but as he turned a flicker of light caught his eye.

A disposable razor had been left on the sink and the blades were shining in the low light of the overhead lights. Jimin stared at it for a few minutes before reaching out and slowly picking it up, running a fingertip over the edges. He flinched as a tiny cut appeared on the tip of his finger, but the pain distracted him and the thoughts were silent for once.

He stood there for minutes, just staring at the blood on his finger, then cracked the head of the razor against the edge of the bath, breaking the plastic surround and giving him access to the blade itself. He picked the silver blade off the ground and gently placed it against his forearm.

He paused, hesitating, as the logical side of his brain kicked in and reminded him what a stupid idea it was. What was he doing? Was he really thinking about doing this?

But the darkest thoughts interrupted by throwing a picture of Tae's face to the front of his mind. In his head he heard the imaginary Tae telling him that he had disappointed so many people, and then he slowly pushed down on the blade.

Holy Christ! The pain lanced through him, like fire, and his nerve endings screamed at him, but in his head there was a blissful silence. He sobbed quietly as the blood dripped down his fingers landing in bright red drops on the white tiled floor, and he couldn't help thinking that they were beautiful as he made a second cut on the same arm.

Two hours later, the bathroom floor was clean and Jimin was back in his room. Making sure his arm was covered by the sleeve of the top he was wearing, before curling on his side and going back to sleep.

The next time Jimin woke up it was 10.30, he still had a slight headache from the hangover, but he was surprisingly calm. Lying in his bed he held his wrapped hand in front of his face and flexed his fingers, flinching slightly at the pain. He made up his mind that he would pretend last night hadn't happened, and if anyone asked, well - he was drunk so he wouldn't be expected to remember it.

The house was empty, the boys had already left for work or school, so he made himself a piece of toast. He made it halfway through the slice, before he felt like he had eaten too much, and threw the rest in the bin before rushing to his room to get ready for work.