i'm so in love with you | k.nj + k.sj

chapter six

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TRIGGER WARNING:
this chapter contains mentions of suicide and graphic depictions of self-harm.
please proceed with caution.

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as days passed by in a blur, namjoon found himself sinking further into the abyss. he wondered if him not asking for help meant that he accepted his fate and nothing else can be done now.

when namjoon would look at seokjin, his chest would hurt and he'd remember the years they spent together, dreaming of living the lives they always wanted, and spending the rest of their days enjoying what they wanted from the beginning. and he would remember why he fell in love with seokjin and he'd feel like his chest was stabbed with a knife, mercilessly being twisted slowly, making sure each ache would count.

namjoon would look at his writings and would send him into a spiral of hatred, love, happiness, and tiredness. the hobby he adored so much became one of the reasons why he was so drained now. the hobby that used to save him from thoughts of just ending it all became his medium of expressing his thoughts and wanting to do it even more.

what's stopping you now, joonie?
if you wanted to do it so badly, why don't you do it now?

namjoon gulped. his thoughts are hurting him again. he's starting to go numb. his room is quiet but his thoughts sound like they're screaming at him to just do it.

to just kill himself.

if you do, you'll no longer feel hurt all the time. all the trauma you've been through during your childhood and teenage years will fade to dust. if you kill yourself, you'll no longer feel like the burden you are to your family and friends. if you die, you're friends will no longer feel sad whenever they can't help you with what you're going through.

you'll no longer be a burden like you've always been.

you're a burden to your friends. you make them so awkward around you. what do you contribute to your friendships? you're a disappointment to your family. you think being smart is enough? their standards are high and you aren't even touching the lowest part. what can you even do? you're not even alive now because you have a purpose, you're only alive for the sake of living. do you really think your friends, family, or even seokjin would cry on your funeral? they'll forget about you soon enough like you never existed and will only remember you every time your death anniversary rolls along the calendar. you'll be replaced by another friend soon enough. new people that always wanted the place in your friends' lives that you worked hard to earn. they'll replace you. and they'll spit on your grave and tell you you're selfish for hurting your friends by killing yourself and that you probably deserve to die. try reaching out to your friends, namjoon. see if they'll actually help. the pain will ease when they listen to you, but it'll come back again. the pain never goes away.

your friends aren't going to help you.

you'll only put your emotional luggage onto them. and then what? you're selfish and self-centered. don't you realize that they're also humans and go through things, too? so why put your own sufferings for them to carry? it's not their's, it's yours.

so just end yourself, namjoon. you'll be dying anyway, make it happen now.

namjoon wiped the tears on his face.
he's been forcing himself to keep quiet but his thoughts were too brutal and he started to wail. he reached for his bedside table and opened his drawer and got hold of his small blade.
and in his poor state, he started harming himself, cutting several wounds on his fingers and slicing his arm.

numb yourself. divert your attention. see if it helps.

it won't.

nothing can help you now.

numb yourself. your arms and hands should sting more than the hurt in your chest.

namjoon took a deep breath.
everything will eventually be over soon.

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namjoon washed the blade. he washed his hand and arm. the clear water on the sink quickly became dark red. he continued washing with water. he didn't mind the sting as he put a little pressure on the fresh wounds. the water smelled like rust. he didn't like it at all. the pain doesn't even matter. he was used to it. when the wounds finally stopped bleeding, he looked up to see his reflection in the mirror.

he looked wasted. his hair was all over the place. his eyes were so red and puffy from crying. he stared at his reflection before looking away. he didn't like what he looked like.

no one hates himself more than he does.

and by 2 am, namjoon was already in bed, trying his best to fall asleep, his left arm and hand full of cuts and slices.