CIGARETTES AND TULIPS // jikook

19 - back to square one

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the early morning light crept in through the blinds, casting faint shadows on the ceiling, and jimin stared blankly at them. 

he wasn't even tired, he hadn't been for hours, but his body was exhausted, heavy against the mattress. his face felt numb, unable to move, like stone set in place. only his eyes blinked, slow and hollow, staring into nothingness. the silence of the room pressed down on him, suffocating, his mind like a static-filled screen with no signal.

he shifted slightly, and that's when the pain on his right hip began to burn again. hesitating, he reached down, lifting the waistband of his pyjama pants. his breath caught in his throat. the wounds were real. dark red streaks of blood, smeared and dried, stained his skin. his pants were ruined. so were the bedsheets. so was he. 

part of him had hoped, wished, that it had been a nightmare, a dumb dream. but no. the cuts were still there, glaring back at him.

his phone sat on the bedside table, silent, still. with a trembling hand, he grabbed it, barely glancing at the screen as he unlocked it. 

the text was still there. 

unreadable now through his glassy, bloodshot eyes. it sat there like a parasite in his mind, eating away at him. 

his ex was back.

grab coffee, talk about life.

 jimin shut his phone off and set it down quickly, like it was a bomb about to go off. his chest felt tight. he needed air. he needed something, anything, to make this feeling go away.

he dragged himself out of bed, his body moving stiffly like it didn't belong to him anymore, and headed to the bathroom. the hot water from the shower stung the raw wounds on his hips, but he didn't flinch. he welcomed the burn, let it remind him of the mess he was. he scrubbed his skin harder than necessary, trying to erase the filth that lingered - tried to wash away the shame.

 but nothing helped. 

the water couldn't touch the sickness inside him.

after the shower, he applied cream to the cuts, his hands working mechanically, numbly, as if they weren't his. he covered the wounds with bandages, hiding the evidence as best he could. but it didn't matter. they were still there, just under the surface, where no one could see but him. he dressed in oversized sweats and a hoodie. 

he opened the bathroom door and nearly ran straight into his mom. her face lit up at the sight of him, though her eyes looked tired. 

"no uni today?" she asked.

"no, today is off," jimin lied, his voice dull, barely there.

"okay. can you help me in the store, baby?"

"yes."

he forced a small smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes, and walked past her, feeling the crushing weight of every step. back in his room, it took him forever to get ready, his hands moving slowly, clumsily. he couldn't even bear to look at himself in the mirror. 

he had relapsed. he was back to square one. 

the progress he thought he'd made was an illusion, like a mirage disappearing just when he thought he could reach it. now, he was drowning in all the shame and fear he had been trying so hard to bury. and his ex, back in town. 

dean.

he couldn't tell tae. he couldn't tell jungkook. and his mom - god, she could never know. 

this side of me... no one should ever know.

 the weight of that secret, the suffocating shame, wrapped around him tighter. they liked him for someone he wasn't. tae liked him because he could laugh with him. jungkook... jungkook didn't know anything. none of them knew. if they ever found out, they'd leave. they should leave. he wasn't worth staying for. it was just too embarrassing, too humiliating.

he dragged himself down to the flower shop, his body feeling alien, disconnected. each movement was stiff, hollow. his mind wandered, caught in anxious loops of everything he couldn't control—his ex, the relapse, the failure of it all. 

his mom was already busy, cutting flowers, her hands rough from years of working with soil and stems. jimin stood beside her, doing what he always did, helping. it was all a blur. the bright flowers, the smell of earth—none of it registered. 

his mind was too far gone. 

i want to leave. 

i want to get out of this town and never come back.

i cannot do this anymore.

not once more. not one more fucking time.

i just want to fall asleep and never wake up again.

 but then he looked at his mom again, her soft smile despite the hard work, the lines on her face, the way she hummed quietly while arranging bouquets. and he knew, she is the only reason i stay.

 the hours passed like a slow, agonizing march, his body moving on autopilot. by evening, jimin was running on empty. the numbness had sunk so deep into him that he wasn't sure he could feel anything anymore. 

and then, the bell above the shop door jingled,

and.... jungkook walked in.

jimin's stomach twisted painfully. he wasn't ready for this. not now. his face flushed with shame, every inch of his body screaming at him to hide. jungkook couldn't know. 

he can't see me like this.

"hey, jimin." jungkook smiled, that soft, easy smile that always made jimin feel like the ground wasn't so shaky beneath him. but today, it only made him want to disappear. 

"i was worried. you didn't reply to my texts..."

jimin swallowed, trying to force his voice out past the lump in his throat. "oh... yeah, sorry. i've been busy."

it was a lie. another lie. everything was a lie. 

jungkook frowned, his eyes searching jimin's face. he could see the confusion, the concern. jimin hated it. 

don't look at me like that. don't look at me at all.

"are you okay?" jungkook asked, his voice so full of care it hurt. it cut through jimin like a blade, sharper than anything he could have used on himself.

"yeah," jimin said quickly, stepping back. "just... busy." 

he needed to get him out. now. 

"i should get back to helping my mom."

jungkook hesitated, but he nodded, respecting the distance jimin put between them. but that look, jungkook's eyes lingered on him, shocked, worried. hurt.

please leave. 

"okay. text me if you need anything," jungkook said, his voice soft. and then he was gone, the door closing behind him.

jimin stood there and he felt like the worst person on earth. jungkook didn't deserve this. no one did. jimin didn't know how much longer he could take it. the shame, the guilt, the way he kept hurting everyone, including himself. 

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