The Diary of Kim Namjoon

12-

TIGGER WARNING:
•Self Harm

————————————————————

Namjoon cried.

Tears flooded down his cheeks like long streams of rivers, as he held the top of his navy shirt with one hand, he held it so tight that when he let it go, wrinkles were drawn on the shirt with a small hole, exposing a small portion of his torso to the little sunlight that hit the small window.

Currently, he was collapsed on the floor of the attic.

The attic was the only place he could cry in peace. It was the only place he could shatter into pieces without a soul questioning him, especially his parents.

So Namjoon let it all out. He refrained however from screaming, even though his mouth was eager, his tongue was eager to produce that deafening sound, that sound that can let him finally rest, that can let him breathe with no more fear, that can let the child of heavens finally let go of his pain.

His Diary was there, he always left it there, with the fear that what he wrote in it may not suit what his parents teaching's.

His Diary's contents were Hell and Heaven mingled together. He would write all of the contents of his imagination in there. Once his hand touches the little wooden pencil that he found while rummaging through the belongings of his mother, he let his hands go free.

His heart would beat, faster, and harder against his ribs, as if the boy was anticipating a race. A race of pen and paper.

"Dear, Diary."

He scribbled, so rapidly with unsteady hands. The writing was barely readable but at this point Namjoon could care less, because he was the only one reading that. He wrote and wrote, each letter was heavily crafted on the piece of paper, as his pace begun to slow down. He was battling himself, his emotions, his feelings that are shattering everyday, the feeling of a lost boy.

He wrote about his fears of the future, his fears of loosing his friend, his fears of loosing his family, his fears of his people loosing freedom, loosing their voices.

He wrote and wrote, and flipped pages, one after the other, he no longer knew what he was writing. His hands felt numb after a while, while his wrists ached from the way he held his pencil so tight, so tight that his muscles were no longer able to relax.

"Stupid Namjoon... stupid Namjoon... stup-"

He suddenly tensed upon seeing Seokjin barefoot in front of him.
His figure suddenly became taller, and much rigid. Namjoon viewed how his palms were detaching from his navy blue pants and attaching again, as he wiped them in slow motions.

"Namjoon, what's going on"- he asked with a voice that sounded almost so gentle to be inaudible and his throat was getting drier and drier by the second, and the younger didn't fail to notice.

"I'm just, wooo wooo, what's, is that blood?"-the latter almost screamed when the light hit Seokjin's wrist.

There he stood, rigid like a statue, with a wrist where blood just pooled itself from like a waterfall from. It wasn't a simple cut, and that was certain. His wrist now fully visible to Namjoon, was cut from one end to the other. The thin line of the cut was still visible, as the little crosta of pinkish skin were painted in crimson when Namjoon took a closer look.

Namjoon's breath hitched, he was breathless at the sight before him, and suddenly he tug at his shirt.

"Seok-Seokjin-Jin... what, why, why did you do that, why, when did you cut yourself?"

He stepped closer, with legs feeling wobbly by the second while his vision was getting blurred, by all the thoughts that came rushing into his mind.

"Why, the fuck, did you do that? Why do you hurt yourself like that, tell me why?"-the younger's voice grew louder and louder by the second, and Seokjin haven't said a word.

He would just stare, and stare at him, silent, while memorising the scene. The scene where he's standing in front of a 13 year old boy with his wrist cut from one end to the other. What could he say? What could he utter, when his tongue was being turned into a knot by the second that passes?

"Seokjin- fucking answer, I'm not a baby!"- Namjoon screamed, this time was the loudest he's ever screamed at the older, and he felt the echo of his voice, vibrate in his head, till he suddenly felt a tear down his cheek.

As he was on the verge of wiping the tear away, his skull suddenly made contact with the wooden floor, and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Nam-"- Seokjin uttered so quietly, before kneeling down and placing a hand under his neck.

————————————————————

No joke, my heart aches at Namjoon.