𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙱𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗 | PJM. JJK✔

the fight

"Wow... Jungkook, look!"

I open my eyes to the ocean, and though Jimin and I are still sitting on my old bed, it is now standing on the beach in Busan, giving us a perfect view of the sea.

"No... no, no, no," I whisper, standing up straight like a meerkat. I slap my forehead and try to make us escape this place. "Somewhere else," I groan, "need to hide you somewhere else..."

"Hide me somewhere really buried Jungkook!" Jimin says, tugging at my arm. "A memory you didn't even think still existed!"

I furrow my brows and try my very best, skimming through my childhood in my mind until I find the perfect moment.

December 20th, 1995

"Smash it!"

"Smash it!"

"Smash it!"

My old childhood bullies chanted as they stood around me in a circle.

Nine year old me was crying, sitting on my knees in my Ironman suit as I clutched a large metal hammer in my small hands.

On the ground before me lay a rabbit with a broken paw, squirming around with widened eyes as it was trying to crawl away, but couldn't.

"Do it! Smash it you sissy! If you don't you're a faggot!" One of the kids yelled, stomping his feet against the ground.

"I can't!" I sobbed, my shoulders shaking as I held onto the hammer with trembling hands. "Please don't make me do it!"

"Si-ssy! Si-ssy! Si-ssy! Si-ssy!"

I screwed my eyes shut and brought the hammer down, feeling the small rabbit's bones break under the weight of the hammer-head and squish it's body dead.

All the kids went quiet.

I slammed the hammer again, and again, bringing it down on the rabbit's body on repeat like my arm was on auto-pilot.

Even when the bunny was nothing but a bloody pile of flesh and white fur I kept going, my vision blurred and the act of murder no longer registering.

That was however, until someone grabbed my hand and stopped me.

I slowly look up, and see a boy with a black, asymmetrical haircut smile warmly at me with eyes that look like crescents.

He pulls me to my feet, and I stare at him in awe as I dry my eyes with the sleeve of my Ironman costume.

"I've never seen you with black hair," I mumble, my nose stuffy and my eyes red.

Jimin takes the hammer from my hand and throws it to the ground, before pulling me with him, and away from the crowd of bullies.

The boys all boo at us as we walk away. They throw mean words at us like Nancy, faggot and pansy, but Jimin and I keep walking, hand in hand, side by side, ignoring what they say.

"It's okay," Jimin says, lightly squeezing my sweaty hand. "You were a kid."

I walk with my head hanging low. "You don't think... I'm a psycho?"