Laundromat Machine

was

Jungkook was one hesitant kind of.

It took him a while to get friends, which he mostly ended up losing and in the nineteen years of his life exprerience he didn't even get to lose his virginity yet let alone receive a kiss.

There was only one person in his life which happend to be his neighbours son Seokjin.

Seokjin was twenty - three and had a car, not to mention he was always smiling at Jungkook.

He was one mature person, had always stories to tell, but he was also always down to get five happy meals with Jungkook at four in the morning, because he wanted the current toys so badly. He was the good influence on Jungkook that made him at least step outside every now and then, since it happend.

Since Jungkook had to do the laundry by himself.

It was always at night, because Jungkook hated the way the sun would shine down on him and warm his skin. He liked the moon light and how it tickled his senses, the stars that glittered and the air that hit his bare skin like little needles.

The physical pain was what kept him thinking straight, and he knew he could never tell Seokjin about it. So he walked through the nights with the clothes filled with small blood stains. He didn't want anybody to know what he had been doing in silence.

It was nothing special in this act, he just walked, gasped and carried a bunch of clothes that smelled at the end like vanilla and chemicals and less like blood and razor blades.

Just sometimes his gaze laid upon the interesting things, like the nights decor or that one boy he kept noticing.

He was skinny with holes in his pants and overused converse he kept sitting there and his eyes would follow the laundromat machine's movements. Bruises was something normal to him as it seemed even though the way he sillily pout his lips when he got impatient was just another effidence that he wasn't one to get into fights.

Jungkook would call it amusing, a pleasure to watch him flipping the coins. It was satisfying to his mind to observe the truly pretty things in life.

He couldn't tell what it was but something about the strange boy was truly aesthetic.

Maybe it was the way his eyes shimmered when their gaze met and he groaned at him, his torso covered in little scratches and the skin was tightly hanging over his ribs.

Why would he not wear a shirt Jungkook wondered.

The boy's deep and rusky voice gave Jungkook chills and he could feel how his heart got startled, suddenly the blood running through his veins faster than sonic would run through the levels on Seokjins old nintendo screen.

A loop and another loop before the boy clicked with his tongue, turning his intense gaze off and careful standing up.

He looked too fragile to get that harmed, so Jungkook could only assume that it was never his intention to look the way he did. Something must've been dragging him intensly only to let lose and watch the boy fall to the hard cold ground like domino bricks. Over and over he must've felt his lungs being clenched due to the immense force of gravity that let him collidate with the stone cold floor until he couldn't catch his breath anymore.

The whole atmosphere was oddly warm, awkwardly muted voices and all the words that Jungkook could've lost that night where being stuck in his throat.

How ridiciulously tragic it was that the boy forgot his one and only plain white shirt.

It made Jungkook roll laughing his eyes.

Disgusting how destiny wanted to see him struggle even more and he returned back home to the sound of the sun rising and coffee being sipped on.

He minded any form of social contact and just quickly tipptoed to his room that was just the right size to fit his bed and that lava Lamp his dad got his mom when they were still young and careless.

And now he watched it, drowning his room in warm red, orange-ish light that floaded the walls just like the thoughts his mind.