Smoke Me.

Chapter 57: Ice cream. I scream. (Special)

AN: Hello, Smokers. This chapter is from Jungkook's perspective.

'He has sleeping pills. Shit. He only has sleeping pills...'

I resisted the urge to throw all the bottles to the ground and instead, packed them back into the pouch as I remembered finding it. Zipped it up, and then put it back in the drawer.

Turned around and saw the empty room I was hoping I could unsee two minutes ago.

Every time I was about to walk out to find someone to give me something, I'd tell myself: 'Just hold on. Namjoon will be back soon. Don't be stupid...this feeling will pass...it will pass...'

I've been telling myself this almost daily for months now.

But when Namjoon came from work and hugged me while I was pretending to sleep, and I still felt the urge to feel different, I panicked.

"What's wrong?"

The walls were closing in. And it was so hard to breathe. I was making a conscious effort to bring the air in and out and every time I stopped paying attention to it. I thought: 'I'm dying...'
"Jungkook?"
He was making circles on my back to soothe me as I was hyperventilating on the pillow.

He was trying to comfort me. But I couldn't help but wish he'd stop being in the same room as me.

I didn't want him to see me falter. I didn't want to falter.

But the desperation to do so was getting stronger like a shadow that'd be able to eclipse even the sun.

"Do you want me to call an ambulance? Or we can take a taxi there..."
"Shh..."
"What?"
"SHHH!" I screamed as I arched my back and coughed the air I couldn't take in as I stared at the white pillows. Tears fell, but I wasn't sad. Rather, I was afraid I'll die right here and now.

My chest felt like a piece of paper that kept getting crumbled up by a pair of invisible merciless hands. My stomach was nothing but a heavy knot. And my lungs were fighting with me, but to what avail?

What was the point?
Every day was the same.

And I was ignoring it. I choose to consciously participate. To surrender to the present.

But every time Namjoon was gone, I'd be willing to sniff glue if the void would get filled up for only a moment.

"Jungkook..."
He stroked my hair, softly saying my name, then proceeded to whisper: "It's alright. I am here. Tell me what you need."
And that was the problem. I had no idea what is it that I was lacking.

Cause I knew that using a substance was only masking this despair, I couldn't escape now.

I was aware, but I would've sold my soul to stop feeling like this.

Gasping for air, choking on it, feeling dizzy, cold, hurt, disconnected, abandoned, and hopeless.

All of them, I had to breathe them all in, or else the air just wouldn't go down my throat.

"Water..."

I mumbled.

He immediately got up to look for it.

But all I wanted was for his eyes to stop watching me.

Then, maybe, I would stop feeling guilty for how much I wanted to escape this moment.

For how weak, I was.

Cause after months of sobriety and help from everyone, I still couldn't figure out what the problem was.