リチウム / PART THREE
yoongi's breathing hard, chest rising and falling radically and he's so short on breath that he wonders if he's going to pass out right here and now, his body tipping forwards and his head cracking against the basin.
he'd slip to the floor and blood would seep out and in between the lines of the floor tiles.
it's a beautiful thought.
butterflies, crimson red, fluttering away with the wind.
yoongi grasps the black marker that he's stashed in the cupboard under the sink and practically yanks off the cap. it goes flying and tumbling to the floor.
he draws the first butterfly on the underside of his wrist. the simple hourglass figure that jimin came up with. a line down for the body. two lines upwards for the antenna.
it's not enough.
red lurks at the recesses of yoongi's mind and he draws another butterfly a space down. and another. and another.
they line up, streaks of black, and in his fogged mind they waver and overlap.
he begins to run out of space, the butterflies fluttering closer and closer to his cuts, old and scabbed over. the marker bumps as goes over the first ridge, and there's a strange sensation of almost pleasure at the pressure exerted by the marker tip
yoongi groans as his brain slips.
short. short. short.
YOU ARE READING
butterflies.
Hayran Kurguwith every failure, yoongi glides the blade deeper. ⓒ dadguk [ previously @yoonginaps ] • yoonmin •
