Wow, this one's a doozy.
This is the long-awaited sequel for Broken Promises, Tattered Wings.
Summary: In which Jimin is falling and no one is around to catch him.
(Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Major Character Death, Implied Murder, Blood and Gore, Strong Language, Toxic Relationships, Referenced Eating Disorder, Sensitive Themes)
*Please heed these warnings carefully!*
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Checkmate
Jungkook's eyes glowed red with anger and lust. A potent and dangerous combination. Jimin stood at the receiving end of such a gaze. Fear and terror painted across his features. As Jungkook stepped forward, Jimin stepped back. Almost like a dance, one fueled by pain and sorrow. A dance that would not end until one lost.
Jimin was neither proud nor confident, but he was intelligent. He knew when he had lost. He dropped his head, an obvious sign of submission. Jungkook smiled, straightening his back and pushing out his chest; an obvious sign of dominance. The perfect combination. Jungkook descended upon him, like a predator and prey and Jimin had nowhere to go.
The members were clueless about what happened that dreadful night when Jimin came home in tatters. His soul and body ruined in a way the members had never seen before. If they had any doubts, they would surely all know tonight.
Seokjin pressed his palms to his ears as he hid in his room. The walls were thin and anyone could hear the soft cries and wails of a tortured soul. He knew where it was coming from. He knew what was happening, but just like the other members, he did nothing.
The night came and went, and as the sun rose, Seokjin prayed it would all be over. Jungkook emerged first, face blank; yet, there was a peculiar aura of satisfaction as he entered the kitchen. Jimin later emerged, face equally as blank. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. His body bruised and beaten, as if he had just fought in a battle, all by himself. In a way, he did.
No one spoke, and for that Jimin was grateful. He tried to be quiet but it was difficult. The pain was overwhelming. Jimin knew the others heard. Maybe that hurt even more.
And life carried on.
Jimin, a mere puppet on a string. Jungkook holding the string, controlling his every move.
——
Jimin once again finds himself in front of the mirror. His eyes narrow as he criticizes his body, but this time it is not fat he stares at. It's bruises. They are reminders of his weakness. Not just his lack of physical strength, but his unfaltering love from the creator of the wretched wounds and scars on his body. His foolishness and cowardice will forever follow him. Every time he looks in the mirror. He knows it's already over.
Jimin jumps at the sound of the front door opening. He quickly scoops up his clothes as he flees the bathroom. In the safety of his room, he does what he's wanted to do for so long. He destroys himself and what he was. His past. What his life once was. Jimin goes around his room smashing picture after picture, burning clothing, paper. Once he has worn himself out, he falls to his knees. He looks around, gasping at the state of his room. What is wrong with me? When did I lose myself? Jimin curls in on himself as he begins to cry.
Again, Seokjin finds himself covering his ears. Blocking out the sounds of the world. Gut-wrenching sobs echo throughout the dorm. Time and time again, Seokjin finds himself doing nothing and he has never hated himself more.
