Smile for me || PJM.

fifteen | heavy heart

A/n: This chapter is told in Jimin's POV

I sat down on my bed and stared at the pile of books in the corner of the room.

I had a lot, I mean A LOT of work to catch up on and revise, but I had no motivation to do it.

I had no motivation to live on.

Yes, I've thought about not living for the future. I just couldn't see anything to live for. Pain. That's all I'll ever feel. And hate. I'll hate myself that my friends would be worried about me... that Y/n would be worried about me.

It's too late to think about these things.

I let out a shaky breath as I stood up, going to take a shower.

Staring at the blade arms reach away from me, I wondered whether I should use it or not.

It felt wrong... but it felt so right at the same time.

I got hold of it, putting it against my skin lightly.

I froze and bit my lip.

I shouldn't do this...

But I've already done it enough. And I want more.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I sliced my skin with the blade, the water in the shower tinting a light red.

When the pain became unbearable I stopped and threw the blade to the side, sobbing into my knees.

I hate my life... I hate everything.

I hate myself. I hate myself that I blame everything on myself. I hate it that I'm so weak and do everything wrong...

I hate it.

-----

In school I kept to myself. I couldn't put up an act. Not when I was like this.

Thank god Y/n seemed to get the message and left me alone. Because I wanted to be.

After school though, Y/n walked with me. But I didn't say a word.

"I can come over right?"

No... I wanted to be alone.

"Yeah?"

She held my wrist and I stopped walking, still staring at the ground.

"Come on... don't spend all of your time alone. You need a distraction."

Not wanting to deal with this, I tried pulling my wrist free but she only tightened her grip, but not too tight that it would hurt.

"Come on... please."

I sighed and nodded, pulling my wrist free, and she let me do it this time.

I carried on walking and she followed me from behind.

Going into my house, I flopped right onto the couch, exhausted.

"Have you eaten?" I kept silent.

She sighed and sat next to me, leaning her head on my shoulder.

I tensed up as she wrapped an arm around my waist.

"...What are you doing?" "...I don't want you to feel empty..." she murmured.

It was silent for a while until she spoke up. "You don't deserve any of this... you've done nothing wrong. You'll get better, I promise. I'll help you..."

I bit my lip feeling the guilt build up.

She didn't know how bad my situation was... and I have done something wrong. I harm myself... something any human should never do.

But I still do. Because it brings some sort of reassurance that everything isn't empty. And feeling that familiar pain is soothing in a weird type of way.

But, what I know is she can't help. I can't get better, I won't get better.

I never will. And I was sure of that.

And knowing me... I probably wouldn't be able to take it.

I'd probably want to end it.