~ lies we tell ourselves ~ // p. jm & m. yg {DISCONTINUED}

Chapter 1

"He's too fat to dance properly!"

"No wonder he's always at the back, he dances like a three year-old!"

"He's so ugly, my eyes are burning just looking at him!"

"Tell him to stop pulling his shirt up, I don't want to see all that chub!"

"HE'S TOO FUCKING FAT!!!"

I flicked through the comments about me on our Twitter, my mind instantly blurring out any positive feedback and diverting my eyes directly to all the hate that I try to ignore. The other boys tell me not to pay attention to them, that all they want is a reaction. I try to ignore them, I really do, but I can't help but read every word. Every one I read adds on another brick to my towering wall of self hatred, and recently it's been getting too tall for me to see any inch of light or support from the other side.

It's easy for them, they're all great and significant in their own ways. Namjoon is obviously the best rapper, Jin is an amazing singer and has the face of an angel, Taehyung is the second best looking and is an awesome singer and actor, Hoseok is of course an incredible dancer, Jungkook is great at everything, and Yoongi is wonderful at rapping and composing, not to mention his incredible piano skills and his sexy care-free attitude and gorgeous body.

I sound like a little girl when I sing, I can dance mildly well but I'm forever outshined by Hoseok and Jungkook, I can't act for shit and I'm the ugliest in the entire group, especially since I'm the fattest out of everyone too...

I'm worthless compared to them. They don't need me, they'd be better off if I wasn't alive to drag them down.

I pull back my long sleeve to see the red scars on my wrist from last night. I admire them for a moment and reach into my bedside table for my pocket knife. My eyes start tearing up slightly as I press the sharp blade to my wrist, ashamed of myself.

"Jimin? I'm coming in to get something from Hobi." I heard Yoongi speak from outside the door to the room that I shared with Hoseok. I quickly pulled my sleeved back up before I did any damage and hid the knife under my duvet. I picked my phone back up, pretending to text someone as I heard Yoongi enter the room.

"I'm just getting the hoodie he borrowed from me last week, he never returned it that damn kid- hey, are you alright?"

I lifted my head up to look at him, he stared back at me concerned.

"Yeah, why?" I replied trying to fight back my tears, and failing.

"You're crying," he came and sat down on the edge of my bed near my feet. "Jiminie, what's wrong?" He reached up and wiped away my tear with his thumb, and then held the hand closest to him softly. I flinched at his touch, the feeling traveling directly to the pain in my left wrist.

I didn't respond to his question, instead I just stared at our hands connected on my lap, my heart beating faster.

"Jimin?" My gaze quickly rose back up to meet his.
"Uh- yeah! I'm fine." I said, quickly wiping away my remaining tears with the edge of my sleeve.

"Hmmm, if you're sure." He suddenly pulled me into a warm hug, the heat from his hands traveling through the back of my sweater and sending shivers down my spine.

"Make sure to tell me if anything's bothering you, okay?" He broke the embrace and grabbed hold of both my wrists, a little too hard. I winced at the pain and he stared at me concerned.

"Is your arm alright? Let me take a look-"

"No!" I quickly snatched my arm away from him, and he looked back at me startled.

"I- Sorry, I'm gonna go take a shower." I got up from the bed and grabbed a pair of underwear, a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants before running out of the room, ignoring Yoongi yelling at me from behind.

You idiot, he'll hate you even more if he finds out. I need to be more careful...