Please- dont leave me...please

How it all began...

Hoseok's POV

I stood there tears in my eyes, mixing with the tears from the sky. (A/n I did not mean to make that rhyme...wtf) My hand over my mouth, the only thing keeping me from screaming out his name. Screaming it to make him come back, but I didn't want to make it harder than it was. My knees were weak, I wanted to fall right then and there, fall to the ground and yell, 'WHY?!' I would've, but I didn't want the attention.

6 years later

Namjoon pov

"Hey Hobi!" Namjoon said. "Oh hey Namjoon" Hoseok said in a monotone. "What's wrong Hyung?" Namjoon asked. "Nothing I'm just a bit tired, that's all." Namjoon couldn't tell if Hoseok was lying or telling the truth.

Hoseok had been like this for weeks, and Namjoon never knew why. Hoseok wouldn't talk about it, and Namjoon wouldn't dare ask. The reason why is a different story meant for later.

"Well if you want I can take you home, and you can sleep." Namjoon offered. They had been out becasue Namjoon had asked Hoseok if he wanted to go. The truth was Hoseok didn't. He wanted to stay home, but he knew he needed to go out, or he would fall down the dark abyss again, and he didn't want to go back...not again.

"Really Namjoon?," I said, "But I would feel bad for leaving early." Namjoon had a reassuring smile on his face, which mad Hoseok feel better. A lot better. "It's fine Hyung. I'd rather you start to feel better, than you having to be somewhere you dont want to." Namjoon said. "We if it's ok with you, then could you take me home? Please?" Namjoons smile was still on his face as he nodded, and said "Yes, of course!"

On the way to Hoseoks house, Hoseok had thoughts going through his mind. Thoughts of all sorts. Like 'Why did he never calm you?' 'Why did he never text you?' 'Why did he never bother to visit you?' 'Is it becasue you weren't good enough for him?' 'Maybe he never left the state like he said, but staged it so he could get away from you.' 'Maybe...he never lived you...'

"Stop." Hoseok said under his breath. "Stop." He said again. "I'm sorry Hyung did you say something?" Namjoon asked with a concerned voice? These thoughts played around in Hoseoks mind, 'He left you, like evryone else in your life! And hes NEVER COMING BACK!' "I SAID STOP" Hoseok yelled, startling Namjoon who was driving.

Namjoon slammed on his brakes, (luckily there was no one else in the road as they were a turn away from Hoseoks house) and asked "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

The younger had turned to look at the older, only to see him with hes knees to his chest, head buried into his knees, and his hands pulling at his hair. Namjoon had seen him do this before, but never knew why. All he knew is Hoseok needed to be treated, but refused.

"Hyung," I said, "we're almost to your house. Are you sure yo-" I was cut off by Hoseok, "Yes I'm sure. You always ask, and I always give the same answer." He was right. He ways gave the same answer. "I only asked becasue, well I want you to know I'm here whenever you change your mind." I started the car again and drove off to his house, which was literally a minute away.

I stopped in front of his house, and offered to walk him up to his door, but as always he declined. I dont know why he declines my offers, or why he gets into these moods. I've known him for about 2 or 3 years, yet I know nothing about him. (A/n I hope you know or get what this means, if not I'll explain, if you ask..🙃)

I watched him wall out of the car, close the door, and up to the stairs to his door. Leave only when I make sure he gets into his house. Just to make sure he's safe. I really do hope, that someday he'll open up. I hope on day he'll also get help. I just wish him the best.

Hoseok's POV

I walked into my house, closed the door, and that's when I heard Namjoon leave. He always waits until I'm inside the house. He's really sweet, and I appreciate him, but I just wish he wouldn't worry so much. I'm fine....really I am.

I hate the way I act towards Namjoon, when all he does is make sure I'm ok.

I head towards the bathroom, take off my hoodie, that hides my scars, reach into the drawer, only to pull out a sharp object. I pick it up, hold it to eye level. I stare at it. I look at it, then my scars, and so forth. Years I have done this. Years I have felt this way. Years I have taken this sharp object to my ugly white skin, and let it part my skin in two, to let the red river flow down my are arm into the sink. For years this went on.

Tonight I took it agin. I stopped staring at it, and I let it part my skin again, for another time. I let my blood flow down my arm like a river with no barrier, into the sink, and onto the floor. This was no new concept to me. This black abyss, these thoughts weren't new to me either. If anything they were the reason I did this.

I knew I needed help, I knew I needed to see a therapist, but I refused. I was in denial about me being depressed when it was clear to see. I had broken a promise, and it was this action that had broken it. It was this that made me hate myself.

I'm sorry...
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