pastel [3]

eight

Namjoon's point of view

He was losing it again. I remembered seeing him each day after V had fallen off that building. The broken look in his eyes as he would cry himself to sleep. Hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. Muttering absolute nonsense as he'd stare blankly into nothingness. He was so desperate for love, that when he had finally believed he had received it, V had gone and torn it away from him. Leaving him with nothing but an empty heart.

We had to hospitalise him a few times. It was the first few months after the blonde boy's death, when Jungkook had been through intense physical pain as a result of the loss. Describing it as his heart being dug out with knives. It got so bad that he stopped eating, eventually going to sleep one day and not waking back up. We had all thought he had died, his heart so week from the immense level of emotional heartbreak he was enduring.

The doctors told us he had Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy, or broken heart syndrome. Which didn't surprise any of us, least of all Jimin who held him through every moment, a sense of guilt for not protecting hus best friend from the pain of a monster had had met himself. For a few weeks Jungkook had to stay in hospital, fed through a tube to regain some strength. When he returned home he was in and out of consciousness, needing support throughout the day to make sure he was coping. Usually that person was Jimin or Sooyoung.

Sooyoung started out as his psychologist. Helping him overcome the torment he was battling. She had a kindness to her that made Jungkook feel safe, and eventually he requested a new psychologist so that he could let her know he had feelings for her. It took several years before they officially dated, and she was hesitant, but as they spent more time with eachother away from therapised environments, they recognised the peace that came with the other's presence.

All that progress hard to recognise, now watching him sit on his bed staring at the plain grey walls with glazed over eyes. His hands trembled visibly under the weight of what thoughts had shackled him this time, wringing each finger through his hands until his knuckles would crack. There was a pain that could be seen in the way his tightened lip twitched and eyes glistened.

"Jungkook," I spoke up softly, knowing he had probably forgotten I was in the room with him. The voice of another startled him, shoulders tensing before relaxing back when he saw me sitting across the room. "Remember you have to eat something." He nodded yet completely ignored the words in favour of tearing his nail beds apart. That picking of skin turned into scraping of his nails over his arms, chin dropping upon what must have been an overwhelming wave of thoughts that brought his knees to his chest. "Kook, can you come back to me?" I called with a firm tone, needing to cut through the noise to reach his full attention.

Though it took a moment he managed to raise his head, my reflection staring back at me through that mirror of tears coating his iris. "What would you like to eat?" I continued, trying to hold his attention as long as I could. He opened his mouth, lips trembling as he formed the word,

"Fruit." He looked back down and began twisting the bracelet around his wrist. A gift given to him by Sooyoung on their one year anniversary.

"Ok. Fruit it is." I stood up, beginning to exit the room.

"No!" Jungkook screamed, scrambling to his feet and clinging onto my arm tightly. "Don't leave me." He sobbed into my uniform, whole body trembling as that mirror shattered and the pieces fell down his cheeks with each shuddering sob. "I don't want to be alone with this," he continued to plead, hands waving to gesture vaguely to his head. "I can't think- I can't breathe! I can't-" he choked on a missed breath, falling further into my arms as I didn't hesitate to embrace him tightly.

"Oh Kook, I know this feels hard right now, but you can work through it all. I'm not going to leave, I'm just going to get you some fruit."

"I don't want fruit." He snapped back, tearing away to rip at tufts of hair and pace across the room. All the while muttering repeated descriptive words: sweet smile, sharp eyes, abuser, love, blonde hair-