Listen this is about self harm and shit, writing helps me feel better so just do yourself a favor and not read any of this
Jimin was glad that their bathroom door had a lock. It allowed him to lay on the cool tile of the bathroom and breathe. Not like it helped. He was going to do it anyways. The temperature of the hard flooring underneath him wasn't going to change that. Maybe he felt relived because then the members wouldn't catch him. He could imagine the older boys scolding him quietly. He couldn't stop, though. With the strong rush of emotions he was feeling, the small blade coaxed them down into almost nothing. It made his wrists and arms itch when his emotions were too much to handle. He hated how good the sharpness felt under his skin, the pain turning everything into numbness. Watching the liquid red bubble on the surface on his arm made him happy for a moment, before he would wipe it away and pull his sleeves down to pretend like it never happened.
The next day Jungkook found out. They were dancing in the studio, just messing around when his sleeve slid down his arm as he raised it up. He pulled it down quickly but saw the younger's eyes widen in horror, and he ran up to him, quietly asking if he could see his arm. After a hesitant nod, the younger's eyes well up at the sight of dozens of red lines covering almost the entire underside of Jimin's forearm. It takes him a second to register the tight hug that the younger had pulled him into, but when he had, he broke down entirely, squeezing Jungkook and crying out apology after apology. The taller male just shushed him, sitting him down on the floor before assuring him that everything would be fine, and that he was there for him. Jimin didn't realize it at the time, but that's all he really needed.
