Playing With Fire [Yoonmin] 》DISCONTINUED《

7

Jimin was sat sobbing into his chubby knees on his fluffy bed. Taehyung was rubbing his back soothingly, whispering sweet nothings into his best friend's ears. Jimin was replaying the horrifying situation in his mind over and over again like a broken videotape. He couldn't stop thinking about the broken look on Yoongi's face and the guilt that tore him apart for being the cause of it. He was hoping to finally have the chance to befriend the boy but of course, his stupidity got in the way of that. 

"Taehyung... you should've seen him... he looked so... broken!" Jimin sobbed harshly. Taehyung patted his back and nodded. "I know, hyung, I know. He'll be okay. We're gonna meet up with his friend in an hour, we can tell him and he'll help us, I promise. Yoongi Hyung will be okay," Taehyung's intention was to only support Jimin, but truthfully he needed that support too. He was fighting his own miniature battle so that he wasn't in the same position as Jimin. He was always a very empathetic person and felt others' pain as though it was his own and to know that an innocent boy such as Yoongi was on the brink of suicide tore him to shreds. 

Jimin sniffled and nodded, finally looking up with heartbroken eyes and hugged Taehyung back, the latter tightening his own grip. "Hyung, you should get ready. Want me to help?" Taehyung spoke up after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Jimin nodded again and rubbed his eyes, rubbing his red, sore eyes.  He pulled away from the younger and climbed off his bed, rubbing away more stray tears. 

Meanwhile...

"I heard that Namjoon kid is back? Wasn't he the kid who called the cops on your mom?" Yoongi's father inquired the second the fragile pale boy walked in through the broken door of the battered building. Mould stained the walls and the wallpaper was ripped and the carpets and floor were damp. The blinds that barely hung on the filthy windows were decorated with dirt. Yoongi grimaced at the scruffy house and finally turned to his equally scruffy father.

"Yeah, yeah, Kim Namjoon, that's him. The oh so villainous guy that got my angelic and innocent mother done for murder and drug use," Yoongi muttered. 
"Don't speak like that to me, boy!" his father yelled, turning to him with a look that made Yoongi feel even smaller than he was. "You're not allowed to talk to that kid anymore, ya hear me? Ya do talk to him and I swear you'll feel more pain than you ever have" the wrinkled man threatened. Yoongi looked down and nodded, not wanting to fight against his father as he knew it was useless. "Yes, father," he obeyed. 
"Good. Now fetch me a beer before I belt your dumb ass," his father commanded. Yoongi nodded and threw his bag off his shoulders before heading into the kitchen (which was joined onto the living room) and grabbed a beer and gave it to his father.

"Get your worthless ass to your room. I don't wanna see your stupid face for the rest of the night," His father shooed the wimpy kid away and Yoongi scrambled up the stairs, desperate to be in the confinements of his small bedroom. 

He threw his small body onto the uncomfortable and springy bed, thinking back to earlier that day. He was so close to ending it all, to finally being free from the torture of his hellish life. He was so close to escaping the tight binds of control, fear and pain. He truly wanted that and he was so close to having his freedom. Yet here he was. Still trapped in the horror movie he called life. Because of one person. Park Jimin. 

"Why did he save me?" he whispered to himself before a waterfall of tears escaped his eyes with no control. The back of his throat burned but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Why? Why me? Why?" Yoongi was getting frustrated.

Frustrated with crying. Frustrated with his father. Frustrated with his thoughts. Frustrated with Jimin. Frustrated with life.

Do it

Cut

End the pain

Don't be weak

Yoongi screamed out. The emotions that swarmed through his fragile body were unbearable. It hurt him so bad yet he couldn't ask for help. He didn't know what was wrong... he felt like he was drowning. Like his world was being consumed by neverending darkness. He couldn't explain it and even if he could... he could he go to? 

He was alone. 

Yoongi tumbled off his small bed and opened his worn down bedside drawer. He saw what he was looking for and sobbed harder. 

You deserve this

"I-I know..." 

Jimin saved you for his own benefits 

No one cares

They want you to do this

Do it

Yoongi cried out again and sliced across his wrist with the same old blade, a string of blood following. He did it again.

More

Pathetic

Worthless

More

You deserve this

Namjoon doesn't want you

Jimin doesn't want you

Taehyung doesn't want you

Each word or phrase earned a cut, adding to Yoongi's already full forearm of scars. 

Next arm

Yoongi whimpered from pain but obeyed the voice nonetheless. Yoongi never was able to put a finger on whose voice it was but he recognised it.

Ugly

Fat

Greedy

Coward

Unwanted

Just end it all

People want you gone

End it

Yoongi finally cut deep enough to silence the voices, instead, filling his head with a high pitched ringing, like the shriek of a terrorising ghoul. He felt dizzy and his vision was blurry. He had little to no energy but somehow he forced himself off his feet, finally realising what he'd done. He stumbled out of his room and over to the bathroom where he washed his hand and wrapped a bandage around his stinging wrists.

The sound of a ping from his usually silent phone attracted the curious boy back into his bedroom where he practically collapsed onto his bed. 

He picked up his phone and saw it was from his only real friend. He figured Taehyung was using him or was just going to hurt him like most other people intended to so he wasn't considered a 'real' friend. And Jimin... he didn't know what was going on there.

Joonie: hey yoonie hyung where r u? we were waiting outside school for a while
Joonie: r u ok?
Joonie: everyone else is at mine
Joonie: yoongi hyung im coming to urs
Joonie: im outside 

Yoongi's eyes were opened wide and he opened his curtains slightly and sure enough, Kim Namjoon was stood outside, patiently awaiting the older. He gave a dimpled smile when he saw the small figure peering through his window. 

"Hyung! Come on!" Namjoon called out. Yoongi looked shocked but nodded. His house was small and he'd mastered jumping out years ago. He always needed an escape when he was younger and now was no different. He nodded and was about to grab a bag but suddenly remembered something.

 The stinging pain in his wrists reminded him of the boy who he was dreading to see. Park Jimin. Jimin said he would be there. But Namjoon had come all the way over to his house and he couldn't tell him to go home. He didn't care how much he suffered as long as those he cared about were happy. He grabbed his bag and threw in his dirty old and oversized pyjamas as well as a toothbrush and some clothes for tomorrow. He looked back at his filthy room and appeared at the window, opening it as wide as he could before gripping tightly onto the drain pipe and climbing out, putting his foot skillfully onto a small dint. He shut the window and climbed down a little more before jumping. He'd scraped his hands and stomach a little but he couldn't bring himself to care or acknowledge the pain. He peeked through his living room window and saw his father passed out on the couch, a can of beer in his hand before turning and facing Namjoon.

"Come on, hyung. When we get back to my house, someone wants to talk to you,"