doppelgänger [completed]

six.

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Jimin sits cross legged in front of the old antique mirror.

He's wearing a pair of faded black sweatpants and a big white t-shirt. It practically consumes his small body and falls off his shoulders to reveal his thin collarbone and pale skin. His head is down and he's staring underneath the mirror at a spot on the floor.

He's been staring at that spot for a really, really long time.

Absentmindedly, his fingernail picks at the carpet.

He blinks once.

There is an itch in his throat that he can't scratch.

He opens his mouth to speak but cannot find his voice. His eyelids are heavy with fatigue. They start to droop.

Wake up.

Jimin picks his head up to brave his reflection in the mirror. It's difficult to move. It's as if every muscle in his body is a slab of thick clay.

He blinks again.

"He hates me,"

Jimin pouts at himself. He can see the dark bags under his eyes and the imperfections on his skin. His hair is getting too long and fringes against his eyelashes.

Jimin has not been to work in three, suffocating days.

He wants to look better and appear more beautiful, but the only thing he can do is melt against the floor.

He feels himself sinking further into the ground.

Blinking is tiring. It takes everything in him to keep his eyes open.

Wake up, Jimin.

"I don't hate him. I think I love him," he stares at himself as he says that particular word, wanting to convince himself that it's true. "I want to love him,"

Speaking is difficult. His voice is frail and small. It doesn't sound like him at all. His lips are dry but he has no energy to wet them.

"I'm sorry, Taehyung,"

Jimin hears his phone vibrating somewhere in his room. He listens to the sound pulsating throughout the intensely quiet dorm.

It stops, then immediately starts again.

Someone is looking for him. Someone knows he's not okay.

"If you don't answer..." he says to himself. "...they'll come find you,"

Jimin knows this routine. He knows this game.

The phone stops.

He presses his cheek against his palm and rests his elbow on his knee. He watches himself blink back the wetness behind his eyes.

Don't cry.

"I'm not crying,"

Yet even as Jimin says those words outloud to himself, he feels the tears coming. An ache in his chest tries to keep him remaining strong-willed.

"He hates me," Jimin says to his reflection once more. "He should. He should hate me,"

He loves you.

"He doesn't love me. He just wants to fix me,"

His phone starts again.

"Taehyung, I'm sorry,"

Jimin crawls away from the mirror with a desperate attempt of strength. He reaches up into his bed and blindly searches for his phone. It falls to the ground and Jimin collapses next to it. He squints at the screen to see three missed calls from Taehyung.

"I don't deserve him," Jimin says to himself. "I don't deserve anyone,"

Jimin is physically and mentally exhausted.

He curls into himself and closes his eyes. Then, he slips into a stagnant slumber against the floor.

The glass on the mirror shakes like a rock being tossed against an undisturbed lake. A small, child-like laugh escapes through each ripple, echoing quietly until eventually...it fades to silence.

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