[Completed] [Rewritten]
"I feel like I'm an artist. My brushes are my blades and my canvas is my wrist."
First chapter sucks, but I think the rest of it is decent . . .
❗❗Trigger Warning❗❗
Mentions of self-harm, eating disorders, depression and suic...
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"What's going wrong here?"
Jin froze in place. Of course, he was messing up. He had constantly messed up this portion of the song for the past two weeks. He couldn't make the lyrics match the melody. There were too many syllables.
"Seokjin, try that again."
The vocal coach's voice was kind and way too gentle. She was just as gentle as ever. But for whatever reason, it pissed Jin off the same. He wasn't ever going to get this right. Since when was he ever able to?
As the practice ran on, he felt his spirits sink lower and lower. Every time he failed, he felt himself get emptier and emptier. He was tired and upset. He heard the others do their parts perfectly and that angered him even more. Dang Seung had been right. He couldn't do anything right.
Why had he ever believed that he could?
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There were always some limits that Jin had ever followed. He had never thought that he would face it, but as he sat now, he couldn't believe his own thoughts. Plans of killing himself ran through his head. He had no clue if anything would work, but he wanted everything to just be over.
He couldn't sink any lower than he already had.
But when he looked at the others, he started to feel guilty. They were all worried. They were doing everything they could to make sure that he was alright. He knew Jimin was tired - yet he made sure to hang out with Jin every single day. He couldn't do this to them.
So he made himself promise that night that he would hold on, no matter what. They deserved that much.
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He peered down, he couldn't believe it. In the past three days, he had managed to live on one meal a day. He had lost a few pounds. Jin had expected to lose more - he had expected it to freefall - but it didn't happen. And besides that, he was so hungry that he couldn't focus on anything.
Ever since he had been very young, he had been really into cooking and eating. It had always been his domain. But now all it did was fill him with disgust when he thought about it. No wonder nobody liked him. He was always making a mess.
But he tried to control himself now. This time, he wouldn't fail.
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Gosh, he couldn't sleep. The gnawing hunger inside of him stayed with him no matter what. He tossed and turned for a long time. His stomach was hurting.
After a long while of struggling, he finally sat up. He gave in.
It wouldn't hurt to eat a little bit.
Right?
Right.
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He headed into the kitchen. A box of donuts that Taehyung had bought sat at the top of the fridge. He easily got it down. He had been trying to eat one, only one, but a short while later, the box was empty. Jin sat back. He was still hungry even though he had downed eight large donuts. And now the others were going to get suspicious.
His face burned a bright red. He felt tears spring to his eyes. He had made a mess again. Now all the pounds he had lost would come right back and he would be back to square one. It was an endless loop.
Slowly, he got to his feet. He figured that he couldn't throw the box out in their garbage can, in case the others found out. There was a park nearby. He could head there.
Out he went. When he returned, tears were streaming down his face.
There was a small hallway bathroom near the kitchen. Jin reluctantly headed inside. He was going to regret this. Even so, he knelt down in front of the toilet.
He shoved his fingers into his throat, panicking for a second when he felt it close around his hand, but then he started gagging. He clung onto the toilet with his left hand as he ripped his other hand free from the confines of his throat.
Jin shut his eyes as he threw up. It was disgusting, he knew. He shouldn't have done this, he knew. He knew, he knew, he knew.
His throat burned when he finished. He felt done. The floor was cold so he lay down onto it, feeling the cool tiles against his face. He was so gross. He could feel his skin crawling.
But after a few moments, he knew he had to keep moving. He stood up and flushed the toilet. Then he slunk back to his bed to sleep, something that he knew would never come.
