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Why do people hurt themselves?
Most of the time, it's because they feel that they deserve it. Some of the time, it's to remind themselves that they are actually still capable of feeling.
For Jeon Jungkook, it started out as the first option, and slowly progressed into something that could be described as an addiction. How could he go a day without feeling the flame of a lighter lick at his skin? Without feeling it all rush back when he would accidentally bump his wound a few hours later.
It had become almost blissful. The sting, the heat, the blisters - they had become calming for him. It was as if the lighter fuelled off of his despair, the flame capturing his emotions and burning them into smoke.
But when the scars healed over, his mind and heart didn't, and so he was thrown into a cycle.
And Jungkook knew that he had a soulmate. Everyone had one. He also knew what the catch was with soulmates, and it dwelled on him every single day, and every single night. Every time he'd catch sight of the damage he did to himself his heart would ache because he knew that someone else in the world had to feel exactly what he was feeling.
Had to deal with the exact same scars.
The exact same damage.
The exact same pain.
And he wouldn't lie and say that it didn't hurt. That was the exact reason he did it; because it did. It stung, and burned, and blistered. The skin would be tender to the touch for days. The skin would stay scarred for years.
If he knew all of this, knew all of the pain the he was putting someone he didn't even know through, why was he still sat in his dorm flicking the flame of the lighter inches from his face?
Jungkook let out a small sniffle as he sat on his bed. His roommate was out, Jungkook wasn't sure where. He couldn't blame him, not many people could stand being around Jungkook for too long.
And maybe that's why he kept hurting himself. Because he didn't quite believe that there was someone out there that could love him. Someone that could look past all of his flaws and find something about him to be fond of. How could that happen? Maybe not everyone has a soulmate.
He sat in his boxers, free hand skimming lightly across the leathery feel of the scars on his legs. He seemed to favour his right, scars littering most of his upper thigh, but his left leg had its fair share of damage as well.
He remembered how when he was thirteen, he tried it with a razor blade instead. But it was too messy, and his dad found the blood soaked tissues. The lighter was fine. The lighter was a friend to him, causing the pain without all of the mess, the relief without all of the cleanup.
"If you really are out there," Jungkook mumbled, bringing the lighter to an unmarred section of his skin and hissing in pain as the fire danced against his leg. "I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me, if we ever do meet."
He watched as he skin turned to an angry red colour, some part raised as it blistered. Although tears of pain dripped down his face, he couldn't bring his hand away; only moving his hand down to a different section as he began to worry about the damage he might be causing. He only flicked the flame off when he felt sweat bead on his forehead, his leg feeling almost numb.
He stood up, limping to the attached bathroom and wetting a towel under the tap once he had done so. He made sure the water was cold as he pressed the cloth to his leg, gritting his teeth as he did so. Afterwards, he reached into the medicine cabinet and took out the bandages he kept in there; wrapping them around his upper thigh and securing them tightly.
He already knew he was going to be late for class.
He was a first year taking the second year art course, always trying to impress his professor and prove that he was able to be in this class. A late wouldn't look good on his part, probably irresponsible.
Jungkook quickly tugged on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, shoving his paintbrushes into his bag and slipping on his shoes before he left as quickly as he could with his bad leg.
It was fairly cold outside, the wind tousling Jungkook's hair as he walked down the pavement on campus, towards the building that his first class was in. When he checked his watch and realized that he was already five minutes late, he sighed, pushing open the door and stepping inside the building.
When he finally arrived at his class, he slowly opened the door; trying his hardest not to alert his professors attention.
"Mr. Jeon, I've never been fond of people being late." His professor spoke as Jungkook walked past the front, Jungkook sighing and biting his bottom lip. "It shows lack of commitment to your studies."
"I'm sorry Professor." He spoke softly, attempting to maintain eye contact. "My alarm didn't go off."
His professor sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
"Invest in a new clock then. Don't expect that just because you're a first year I'm going to be lenient with you. It was your choice to pick this class, my expectations of you don't differ from anyone else in this classroom." Jungkook nodded softly, breathing a sigh of relief when his professor finally let him leave.
He walked over to his station, setting up his easel as quickly as he could. As discreetly as he could, not to bother the student who worked beside him.
Eyes on the canvas, Jungkook.
But how could he not spare a glance, when someone so beautiful stood beside him?
Park Jimin. Jungkook knew his name, many people did. He was a well known name on campus due to the fact that his roommate threw some of the best parties at the university, some said that Min Yoongi's parties were the only one's worth going to. But despite sometimes being coined as Yoongi's sidekick, Jimin was the type of person that once you saw... He was hard to forget.
His hair was a beautiful silvery tone, usually pushed effortlessly off of his forehead; if not pulled back into a baseball cap. He was on the shorter side, but he was built. Perfect thighs, muscular arms, sharp jawline; Jungkook would be lying if he said that he wasn't jealous.
Jimin seemed like he had it all. Looks, pleasing attitude, friends, talent. He was so perfect.
Jungkook sighed as he took out the sketchbook that he kept handy, flipping the the rough draft of what he planned to paint. The assignment required one person to be depicted in the painting, as well as clearly conveyed emotion. It seemed simple enough.
As a small gust of air tickled Jungkook's skin, he looked up, watching as Jimin walked past him and towards their professor. Jungkook frowned as he picked up on the slight limp in his walk, then his slight wince when he turned back around.
Jungkook quickly looked away, not wanting to risk eye contact.
After all, despite working beside each other, they had never exchanged words.
Jungkook knew that he wouldn't be able to anyway, he'd probably end up stuttering, or blushing - maybe even something more embarrassing. And what if Jimin picked up on all of this? He'd seen Jimin with quite a few girls before, so he doubted the the older would appreciate someone like Jungkook having feelings for him.
Not only was he a boy, but he was just Jungkook. That one name that everyone forgot, the one that no one even bothered to try and remember. Jungkook with the quiet voice, scarred skin, and lack of self worth.
He couldn't even compare to someone like Jimin. It was pointless to try and get to know him.
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