*warning* detailed self harm, lots of blood *y'all been warned*
Silence.
Silence was what filled his ears as he stepped into the apartment. Empty and quiet, not a sound to be heard save for the painful beating of his own heart. Like a tennis ball being thrown against his ribs, each hit bringing it closer to bursting free.
Moving, finally dragging his feet, Jungkook ended up in the bathroom. Staring at himself in the mirror. Eyes moving so fast he almost couldn't recognize himself. There were cuts on his face and a bruise under his eye. It wasn't something new, the scene before him wasn't scary, it was familiar. As if he was meant to look like this, beaten.
With shaking hands he lifted his uniform shirt to see dark bruises already decorating his ribs. Crawling up the side of his torso like ugly flowers blooming beneath his skin. Their thorns digging into his muscles until every movement left him tender with pain.
The pain was familiar too and as Jungkook traced the outline of the bruise with his fingertips, he realized it wasn't enough. This throb wasn't enough, this sting wasn't enough, if he was going to be in pain it had to be enough.
Dropping his shirt, he pulled open a drawer and grabbed the razor taped beneath it. The blade was new, shiny, sharp, ready to be used. He rolled up his sleeve to see pale skin littered with scars ready to be reopened. There was no hesitation, almost no shake in his hand as he pressed the blade to his wrist. The action was quick, practiced, and blood beaded out of his skin like rubies.
Again and again and again, until his sleeve stopped him from going any higher. Blood dripped to the floor around him, staining the white tiles with his filth, yet he couldn't stop. It still wasn't enough. This time the shake was there as he switched the blade to his other hand and pushed his sleeve up. The skin there wasn't as scarred, he was right handed after all, but somehow that excited him. It was a fresh canvas, sensitive and supple.
"Jeon Jungkook!"
The blade slipped from his bloody fingers and he watched it clatter to the floor. A splash of red surrounding it. Looking up, he locked eyes with his aunt who was shaking her head, a cigarette pinched between her fingers.
"Fucking Christ Jungkook...you just...ugh god I just cleaned the damn floor," she snapped and took a drag from the cigarette.
Jungkook looked down at the tiles to see the outline of blood around his shoes. Thick blood still streaming from his fingertips. "Oh...I'm sorry aunt Soomin."
She scoffed and her spindly fingers wrapped around his bicep. Her false nails dug into his skin, more pain, except he didn't want this kind. Yanking him from the bathroom, he was thrown into the wall and pushed forward. He stumbled into the kitchen and Soomin stopped him with a fistful of his shirt.
"I thought you stopped this bullshit." She gestured to the cuts and inhaled the cigarette.
Jungkook moved to pull his sleeve back down but Soomin grabbed his wrist, her hold like iron.
"Oh oh, don't go hiding it now, obviously you want people to see how sad you are huh?"
The words were sharp, like the blade. Their only purpose to hurt him, add to the pain, which was what he wanted, right?
Soomin pushed Jungkook and his back connected with the edge of the kitchen counter. He grabbed the counter, leaning as far away from the cruel woman as possible. He wanted to run. The door was right there, taunting him. Knowing he'd never do it, because he was weak.
With her hand balled into a fist, Soomin beat at his chest, once, twice, three times. Until breath was knocked from his lungs and he buckled forward, holding himself with his bloodied arms.
"I don't want you doing that disgusting habit anymore! You understand!?" She shrieked.
Disgusting. He was disgusting. Hurting himself, getting beat up by his classmates, helped by strangers, getting fucked by his uncle. Yeah, he was disgusting.
"I said do you understand Jungkook?!"
"Yes...never again...I won't—"
A smack to his face and the words caught his throat as he cupped his cheek. He stole a glance at Soomin to see her smiling, huffs of laughter leaving her lips.
"Ohhhh Jungkook, I'm just messing with you."
Jungkook remained hunched, curled around himself and leaning so far back the counter was cutting into his spine. She noticed this and grabbed his arms to straighten him.
"Come on Jungkook, you know I'm kidding." She rubbed at his arms, slowly, then slid her hands to his shoulders. "Aunty just doesn't want to see you ruining such a pretty body."
Chills covered Jungkook's body, starting at the tips of his bloody fingers all the way to his toes. She smoothed her hands down his chest, stepping closer until their bodies were pressed together.
"Can you promise aunty you'll always be a pretty boy for us?" She whispered, so close he could feel the words on his lips.
Jungkook nodded and she surged forward, smashing their mouths together. He flinched, tried to pull away, but those spindly fingers tangled in his hair. Forcing him closer as she licked and moaned into his mouth. Nipping at his lip, she stopped, and stepped away. Jungkook stood stiff, eyes trained to the floor as he wiped the saliva from his mouth. She ruffled his hair, said something to him that he couldn't hear, and he watched her high heels retreat. The door slammed shut and he looked up, the apartment now silent save for the painful pounding of his own heart.
His knees cracked to the floor and he screamed, sobbed, broke down until coughs replaced his cries. Staring at his mangled arm, tears mixed with the blood, and stained the floor beneath him.
He can't stay here. Can't stay. Can't wait for uncle Jihun to come home. Can't. He can't.
"I can't...I..can't," he cried and stumbled to his room.
Practically ripping the buttons he tore off his uniform shirt. The material dragged along the cuts, fresh and swollen, burning like fire. Moving too fast he threw on the biggest hoodie he could find, rushed hands hitting the bruise blooming on his side. The material swallowed him, somehow made it even more obvious how weak he was, how frail. Except that didn't matter, because it hid him. Covered the cuts, the bruises, the scars, which nobody needed to see.
Not bothering to lock the door, Jungkook hurried down the hall and out the building. The sidewalk was crowded, like usual, and he weaved through the faceless people. Going nowhere in particular, anywhere but that apartment.
He turned down an alleyway and froze, suddenly aware of the aching pain consuming his body and the breathless gasps leaving his lips. The alleyway began to tilt and he went with it; stumbling to the side until his shoulder collided with the wall. Spots collected in his vision and he blinked, resting his head against the cool concrete of the building.
Not here, he couldn't faint. He didn't even know where he was. Some random alley, between some random buildings, where some random people could hurt him.
He peeled up his sleeve, which had soaked to the skin with blood. Then did he realize just how deep he had cut, how hard he had pushed, more than he ever had. The cuts were small yet gruesome, split open wide and gushing with blood so dark it was black. His head swam and the blood seemed to swirl, forming shapes on his arm and palm. This was how he was going to die, in an empty alleyway, bled dry.
He slid down the wall except never felt the ground hit his bottom. His stomach was rolling the longer he stared at his arm but he couldn't stop. Couldn't look anywhere else, eyes glued to watching his own demise.
It was mesmerizing in a way, and despite his ragged breaths, a new calm was washing over his body. It drained the strength to hold up his arm and he let it drop to his side, where it lied limp on the ground.
He blinked and stared at the space between his outspread legs. The breaths had stopped, no longer forced and rapid, but soft and shallow.
He could still hear the bustling of life near him. Cars driving by and people going on with their day, completely oblivious to the boy bleeding at their feet. The sound of their shoes against the sidewalk grew louder, closer, as if someone was running, just like he had.
"Oh my god, holy fuck...kid...Jungkook?"
Jungkook's head fell to the side and he blinked the black spots away to stare at the boy next to him. He looked familiar, sounded familiar, he had seen that panicked face before.
The boy dropped to his knees and pulled off his black jacket. He grabbed Jungkook's bloodied arm and pressed the material to the cuts. A burn ran over his skin, hot and sticky, yet he couldn't pull away.
"Are you...oh god this is so much blood." The boy wrapped the jacket around his arm, pressure on the wound, Jungkook had seen that in movies.
The boy dropped his phone as he took it from his pocket and he cursed, hands shaking so much even Jungkook could see it. He should be the one panicking, except he wasn't, because he wanted this. This was what he deserved. He wanted to grab the phone out of the boy's hand but his arms wouldn't move. They were glued to the ground, heavy as stone, deadweight.
"Hi...yeah I need an ambulance...uhh I'm in an alleyway off Main Street next to the Han River Apartments...he's bleeding a lot from cuts on his arms."
No, was what Jungkook wanted to say. Please stop, don't do this again. Except he couldn't and his lips parted in silent protest.
The boy gripped the phone harder, knuckles practically turning white. "Please just hurry, I don't know how long he's been out here...okay...thank you."
Dropping the phone to the ground, the boy cupped Jungkook's cheeks and it burned. His hands were hot, making Jungkook suddenly aware how cold he actually was.
"Hey kid," the boy whispered and smiled. "I didn't want to find you like this again."
Jungkook allowed his head to rest in the boy's warm hands, suddenly to heavy to hold up. He didn't want to be found like this again either, held down to earth by a kind stranger.
The boy's smiled wavered and he tapped Jungkook's cheeks gently. "Jimin had just messaged me too, telling me he had seen you getting beat up and had tried to clean you up."
Jungkook hummed, unable to form words, and blinked as dark spots began to fill his vision again.
"Hey hey." He tapped his cheeks again and Jungkook's head rocked like an old doll. "Come on Jungkook, we can help you kid, I can't see you go like this."
"No," Jungkook whispered, the single word stealing the shallow breath from his lungs.
The boy's eyes widened and he brushed a large hand through Jungkook's bangs. "Shh, don't say that. I know we're just strangers but...I want to help, Jimin too."
Something new warmed Jungkook's cheeks and when he blinked he realized they were tears. They were lying, he knew that, but a part of him wanted to believe. That maybe these kind strangers did care about him. That maybe they could be more than strangers. That maybe they could actually help him.
The boy suddenly stood and sirens echoed in Jungkook's head. Paramedics replaced the boy, kneeling in front of him with gloved hands ready to touch him. Jungkook looked past the paramedics and found himself searching for the boy, he needed to see him. As if the boy could sense this, he appeared from the crowd, that familiar panicked look taking over his features. Jungkook blinked, except the black spots didn't go away this time. They clouded around the boy's face, creating a dark tunnel that pulled him farther and farther away.
"Please stay with us Jungkook, we'll help you...I promise."