Better Than Tears (sweeter than sleep)

I get tired and hurt sometimes

Jungkook never had names for all the feelings he went through during an anxiety attack.

He'd never thought it mattered. He was just feeling all the things and it sucked and knowing names of things didn't change the fact that he was feeling them and they were making him miserable. Misery was the emotion to cap it all off, followed by helplessness and desperation. He mused that misery might be the name for the whole experience of it all, that the various emotions were just the ingredients in his misery soup. Helplessness and desperation were both decidedly passive-aggressive emotions, ones that wound him up while keeping him still, abuzz and caged at the same time.

Besides those three big ones, all the little ones that brushed against his skin like shattered glass, causing all the smallest and hard to find wounds were not worth the effort it took to discover. Jungkook didn't want to know how many pieces of glass had punctured his skin. He didn't want to think about plucking them out, either.

But Jimin wanted to know their names, so now Jungkook knew them too. And when they happened, he could realize each of them in turn. He couldn't decide if it was really any better being able to recognize each punch to the stomach as they came, seeing as they still knocked the wind out of him every time. In the long run, it would probably be better, but Jungkook was still loitering near the starting line, willing to start the race yet fearful of collapsing at any point. The ground before him was too rocky, too covered with glass shards and Jungkook, who had never flown in his life, had no idea of how to bypass those painful obstacles without experiencing them.

Jimin had given him a little notebook to write down snatches of feelings whenever he recognized one. He hadn't pressured Jungkook at all, but merely suggested that he record the feelings and the thoughts and try to recognize patterns so that they could tackle them together. And, because it was Jimin's suggestion, Jungkook had agreed to do it. He didn't have any better ideas and was willing to try almost anything. Tripping over his constantly untied anxiety shoelaces was getting really, really old.

Two months had almost passed since Jimin had given Jungkook his coat and his hands and his friendship. It had been rough, but still the most pleasant time of his life that Jungkook could remember. Because even if he was struggling, he now had someone to walk beside him and hold him up and encourage him to keep going. Jungkook would do anything Jimin asked if only it meant that he wouldn't be left alone.

Also, his old habits didn't suddenly vanish, so while he desperately tried to move forward, he was always being held back by one thing or another. Jimin had learned a lot about Jungkook, but there was plenty still to be shared and Jungkook wasn't looking forward to sharing them.

For the first couple of days, he had ignored the lump in his pocket. It wasn't until he starting biting his lip again that he figured maybe the journal could be helpful. The second page had a splotch of smeared blood on it that Jungkook wasn't proud of, but Jimin said it was an experience and not to feel ashamed.

Jimin was always saying nice things in a similar vein that were probably true but that didn't necessarily resonate with Jungkook. Or maybe that wasn't the right word. They just didn't stick.

No. Jungkook wasn't sure what was wrong with him exactly, but even as he loved to receive comfort and praise from Jimin, he was also reluctant to accept it and believe it whole-heartedly. Someday he would champion over that impulse.

It just hadn't happened yet.

All the things that Jungkook wanted were things that hadn't happened yet. Wanting was tiring.

I'm exhausted, he wrote one day, sitting on the steps of the art building that he didn't have the courage to venture inside of, bundled in his coat and a scarf Taehyung had given him. Jungkook imagined affection was knit into it.