BTS: I Need Your Blood, Sweat, Tears

1

 Jeon Jungkook was depressed. That much he knew for sure.

He wasn't sure about it three months ago, but based on everything he's done in those three months, he'd have to count it off as one of the many things wrong with him.

Panic syndrome. Asocial behaviour. And now depression. It wasn't the least bit surprising, however.

His life had pretty much fallen apart, he could accept that. But it baffled him that it took this long to realise that maybe he just didn't care for anything or anyone anymore. He didn't get angry at the cashier who accidentally charged him extra for his food. He wasn't upset when he found out someone had stolen his bike. He wasn't happy when he did anything at all.

Everything just kind of seemed...bland.

Jungkook woke up another morning, greeted with the same bland ceiling, still pictures, dull sunlight that poured into his room. Nothing mattered anymore.

He doubted he'd be able to even pull himself out of bed, let alone go to work that day. Nonetheless, he needed to pay for a place to sleep. Not that it mattered, he could sleep on the streets for all he cared, but so long as he could get out of bed, he would.

He didn't bother eating anything for breakfast. Nothing in the kitchen looked anywhere near appetising. If he was honest, he'd rather starve than eat.

Anorexia came to his mind. If it went on long enough, he could add it to what he believed to be wrong with himself. That was the only thing that grew in his life, the list of problems.

He slipped on the clothes he assumed he'd work best in. He didn't bother grabbing his phone, he wouldn't need it. Nor his wallet, either. Just him and his shoes.

He slipped into the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror.

Pale. Malnourished. Tired. Ugly. Disheveled. All things leading to a person who probably wasn't even worth much. It didn't matter. He had to go to work. No hairbrush, just a hat. No shower, just deodorant. No toothbrush, just gum. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done either of those things, so it must've been at least a week and a half. He would only bother to do it if it started to bug him.

Outside, he started off to work, same time as normal regardless of his lack of a bike. Though, if he wanted, he could very well just take someone else's. Would they notice? Does it matter if they do?

No. It doesn't.

Jungkook quickly takes one of the bikes lined up outside of the housing area and starts to ride it down the street. Where someone else may have felt a thrill, or guilt, he felt hardly anything. He needed a ride to work. There was a ride to work. He took the opportunity.

He looked off to the right to watch a few cars pass him by.

What if... Could he?

No note.

No reason.

Doesn't matter. He kept on his path.

Jungkook could very well end it on any day, at any time, but he couldn't find the energy to do even that. If was hit and killed, then so be it. Doesn't matter. No one cares. He wouldn't care. He's dead.

He arrived at work a twenty minutes late, and if he was going to get yelled at for it, he wouldn't care. Frankly, he'd prefer to be yelled at, just to see if it sparked any kind of emotion in him. He got yelled at. Nothing.

He was a cashier for the day, so he sat behind his station and stared blankly at the customers coming in for the early morning. Not much business in the morning, and not much business on Sunday regardless. He only seemed to leave the house for work, and when he was off, he didn't leave the house. Just laying there, thinking about nothing until he fell asleep for twelve hours, or staying up the entire night and not batting an eye when his alarm went off.

"Good morning," a woman greeted him. "Great day." He forced a smile and nodded, scanning her items and counting the money out. "Have a good day!" He watched her leave. It was odd to think that he used to be like that.

Two hours. Nothing. Two hours. Nothing. Break. Nothing. Four hours. Nothing.

"Hey," a man greeted, tone deep. "How much?" Jungkook scanned the items and the number came up on the small screen. He pointed and the man nodded. "Don't talk much?" Jungkook shook his head. He was glad this man talked for him. He didn't have any energy to talk anymore. "I see. Name's Namjoon. And you are...Jungkook?" The man read his nametag. Jungkook nodded. "Nice to meet you, Jungkook. Here." The man handed him exact change and Jungkook dropped it into the register. "Oh, and here," the man handed him a few extra coins, "get something to eat. You look like you need it." As the man, Namjoon, gathered his things and left the store, Jungkook stared at the coins in his hand.

Had he just been given free money for food? From a stranger?

No.

Just kindness. Dull, bland, kindness.