bts x jungkook oneshots <3

⚠️untitled - jungkook solo

non bts au just sad lonely jungkook.

tw for sad shit

this is literally just my life atm i'm so tired.

this is an absolute fucking mess i'll probs delete it
not proofread

x

he's lonely.

he's always lonely these days.

everything is dull. plain. bleak. boring.

the minuets feel like hours and the hours like days.

he can't sleep anymore. hasn't in weeks. mum thinks it's because he's "overtired" , but that doesn't make any fucking sense.

his bedroom feels strange, it feels empty, it feels cold.

he can still taste the toothpaste in his mouth from hours ago. his hair is now only a tad damp, compared to it being soaking when he laid down.

he can hear snoring through the walls. at least someone is sleeping.

he doesn't want to be alone. his heart aches at the thought of laying here for seven more hours, doing nothing but toss and turn. he closes his eyes tight.

he can't wake up his mother, as she's got work early, and she barely sleeps as it is.

getting dad up would be like trying to wake up a bear two months into hibernation.

and there's his brother, taehyung. truthfully, jungkook can't think of a reason not to wake tae, in fact - he might still be awake. but he can't bring himself to walk the ten steps to his door and knock.

actually, he doesn't want anyone here.

he wants hoseok. his eldest brother, who moved away.

he lets out a whine when he thinks about him. his big brother, his best friend.

he's so far away. sometimes it feels like he's not even living anymore. it's torture.

laying there, tears in his eyes - jungkook thinks about hoseok, and tae, and mum and dad.

he thinks about how much he wants to see hoseok. how much he wants to sleep. how much he wants to smile.

he then thinks about everything he could ever possibly want. a billion dollars, a big house, fancy cars, to be skinnier, taller, fitter.

he thinks about how much he wants to visit japan, how he wants new headphones, cosmetic surgery, a cigarette, a better job, more friends, a bowl of cereal, a big fat juicy steak, a blue raspberry jolly rancher, a bucket of cinema popcorn, a diet coke, a bath bomb shaped like a peach, a new book, more tattoos, some paracetamol, eminem's "the eminem show" on vinyl, a christmas cracker, another oversized black hoodie, new converse, a bunch of flowers, a hotdog (with ketchup) a hug so tight it makes his eyes pop out - and a punch in the  fucking face.

would he be happy if he got all those things?

probably not.

jungkook will never be happy it seems.

no matter how hard he tries to maintain himself. never missing meals, showering everyday, brushing his teeth, going to the gym, going out with friends, turning up to work on time.

he tries so fucking hard to make himself happy, but he just isn't.

and that's the most heartbreaking thing of all.

he was always told if he took care of himself physically, the mentality would catch up. but it hasn't - and he's tired of trying.

he's gonna call in sick to work tomorrow.

and not shower. or brush his teeth. or eat.

what's the point?

he'll never be happy anyways.

so why try?

why run yourself into the ground for such an unachievable goal?

he was stupid to even try.

from tomorrow, he'll go back to being the old jungkook.

after all, the old jungkook got him to where he is today -

lying awake, tears in his eyes - all alone. at 3am.

his eyes close, but he still doesn't fall asleep. his alarm is due to go off in eight hours. he grits his teeth.

as the tears seep out his eyes, he turns to look at the wall, his radiohead poster greets him, along with one of biggie smalls, and shinee. he looks at their smiling faces and he starts to cry harder. all he wants is to feel better. not even good, just better.

he's crying quite loud now, and all he can think about is how no one is coming to him. he's so fucking lonely. even in a house full of people he's all by himself. his ears are ringing. he swallows and he can't taste the toothpaste anymore. it's hard to breathe. all he wants is to be okay. he wants to be okay, he wants a big fat juicy steak, some fucking popcorn, a punch in the face, new headphones and to be okay.

his breath hitches, and he stops crying. he opens his eyes again and looks back at the posters, then at the ceiling. the same ceiling he's been starting at for weeks. but it looks different, everything feels different, in fact - nothing even feels real. he feels like he's watching himself from afar, not in control of his thoughts or feelings. and now he's very conscious of the fact he's not breathing. he gasps for air but his lungs don't inflate. he feels lightheaded, and he starts seeing little stars on the roof. they're nice, actually. something other than a plain white ceiling to look at. he focuses on them, completely ignoring the fact he's totally breathless.

he must have been staring at them for ten minutes before he realised that he was in fact breathing again, and when he blinked - the stars were gone. a sickening metaphor for when he snaps back to reality, the only thing that was making him happy is gone.

jungkook is gone.

he hates everything at this point. hates the hairs sticking to the back of his neck, the way his duvet feels on his skin, the way his wardrobe isn't fully closed, how there's dust on his top shelf, how he has a nine hour shift coming up. he hates his family. hates himself. he hates being alive.

he's so filled with hate that he can't help but start crying again. angry tears. vengeful tears, tears of whatever the fuck else he's decided they are. tears are tears. fuck.

the radiator is making a weird noise. why is dad not snoring anymore? where is my passport?

maybe things would be better if i just blew my fucking brains out.

fuck.

1050 words

ej