~ Jikook ~

|O| A little more

I found this story on archiveofourown and it's like really angsty and there's also smut. It's by sue_bts, based on 'House of Cards'.
Warning: bad ending.

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| Jungkook | 6:24 am | Dorms |

‘Have you eaten today? Have you had a few glasses of water? Have you gone outside? Have you changed your clothes from yesterday, or brushed your teeth, or washed your hair, or trimmed your toenails? Have you slept enough? Have you stretched? Has anyone told you how beautiful you are? Is there someone you need to forgive? Are you feeling alright? What could you do to feel better?’

Die. I could die. That’d make things easier. That’d end the pain. That’d make everything gone.Forgotten. God, I wish I could forget. Forget the things that go through my head, the pain I’ve caused myself. It’s been too long with the pain, it’s beginning to ware into my skin, indenting, leaving me covered in marks. The pain that is screaming, echoing, across the walls of my mind, the crevices into my twisted thoughts. It’s always screaming in there, never quiet, it becomes a background noise, a dull and bland blare of white noise. I’ve learned to not listen to what the screaming says. That leads me into darker tunnels than I’m already wading through. Either it’s tempting me, threatening me, speaking in shivers of fear. It’s always paranoid, always on edge. It makes me flinch in my seat, makes the audience complain over my messed up dances. 

They don’t know how my mind screams at me to hurt them. Hurt them all. They don’t know.

But…what could I do to feel better? Now that’s a question to ask! It’s a very good question, actually. 

I just wish I had a fucking answer.

An answer that wouldn’t wind up with me bleeding over porcelain and hurting him. I couldn’t do that, even though my mind cowards when he’s around, yelling about the possibilities, yelling about how deceiving good people can be, getting me nervous and quivering and having that itching urge to seek safety. I still can’t hurt him like that. I can’t hurt Jimin with my own death.

As much as I wish I could.

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| Jimin | 6:24 am | Dorms |

‘Have you eaten today? Have you had a few glasses of water? Have you gone outside? Have you changed your clothes from yesterday, or brushed your teeth, or washed your hair, or trimmed your toenails? Have you slept enough? Have you stretched? Has anyone told you how beautiful you are? Is there someone you need to forgive? Are you feeling alright? What could you do to feel better?’

I could eat. I could. I won’t. But I could. I don’t haveto. I’m fine. Not eating is fine.

Mornings tempt me the most though. For food. Yesterday was a cup of strawberries and counted grains of white rice; mornings always beg for more. The more I can’t give, no matter how much I’d like to. 

I would, if only my cheekbones stick out, if my jaw is angled in how a man should look, if my thighs weren’t so unshapely and soft, if my ribs were ridges that lead to a hard stomach and sharp hip bones. But it’s not like that. I’m pudgy and untoned and hopelessly ugly.

So I deny what little I have left of me- of what isn’t broken yet- what it craves. I deny myself the food to ease my mind of it’s tiring cycles; to let my body go from restless, to still, in tangled, sweaty sheets; to let my shaking shoulders and timid, weak legs finally find ground that isn’t caving in. I don’t let myself fall weak to temptation, begging, pleading,need. It’d prove of how easily I am stupidly seduced.