college hyyh au where jk feels trapped between two ppl fighting for different things
tw // smoking, swearing, panic attacks, morally gray characters, implied murder/death, graphic description of self-harm (cutting, starving), suicidal thoughts
i've been purposely explicit with my trigger warnings, so please pay them proper attention before deciding to read. it's very dark.
-
jungkook stares at his hyung's face. it's scrunched in anger like a brown paper bag ready to be flung into the closest bin. the apples of jimin's cheeks are flushed bright red, his lips pressed together as he takes a long drag of his cigarette.
"why?" jimin asks, voice stretched thin. the air around them turns smokey with his exhale, and jungkook scrunches his nose in disgust.
"why what?"
"why should i let it go?" jimin reaches over to smash the white stick of death against the rusty ashtray sitting between them. "you told me to respect myself, didn't you?" when jungkook remains silent, he continues, "so why should i hold back? fuck him, honestly."
"hyung," jungkook sighs, fingers drumming the sticky table -- it's probably dried coffee that the worker's forgot to clean. what can he say? the situation is already tense, it would be stupid to antagonise jimin. jungkook bites the corner of his cracked lip, letting the line of smoke from the ashtray distract him into a morbid silence.
"kook, i think we should kick him out."
"what?" jungkook whispers, looking up with wide eyes. his heart begins pounding in his chest, racing quickly like a horse on steroids. "but - but he-"
"he's a murderer, jungkook."
"no!" jungkook yells, nose prickling as his throat stretches over the words leaving his frantic mouth, "think about this properly, hyung! taehyungie hyung has no where else to go- and - and we should be helping him right now. he's alone, and his sister-"
"IT'S HIS FAULT SHE DIED!"
jungkook kicks back his chair, unable to take it anymore.
"no," he says in a voice on the verge of breaking, "it was his dad's fault. he is the murderer-"
"shut up," jimin spits, also standing his full height. jungkook shrinks at the look in his hyung's eyes. "you don't know anything! you weren't there to see it, jungkook. that boy had 'killer' written all over his face. he was ready to do anything. do you understand how bad that is?"
"i -" jungkook's voice cracks as tears spill over his sunken cheeks, "i realise that you're not listening to me-"
"oh my gosh," jimin cries, throwing his arms out like a performer taking his final bow. he gives jungkook a disgusted look, and spits out, "fuck both of you, then. i don't need this crap in my life." jimin is storming off before jungkook can think of a reply, his thoughts trapped under a veil of dizzying shock as pure hurt numbs his senses.
-
the small, shared apartment is all they have. the three of them barely survive paying off college and school fees, let alone getting their monthly rent to mr lee on time. it's a mess, really, but jungkook still loves it; the financial struggle, the leaky bathroom faucet, the rats that scamper around, biting into their dull mattresses, the cup noodle diet they are forced to survive on- just everything. jungkook loves it all, and now he is unsure if he still has it.
"hyung?" he calls into the candle-lit darkness. there is a single lamp lighting the whole room, painting elongated shadows across the floor and walls. "hyung," he whimpers into the emptiness, chest tightening in panic. why is no one home? where are jimin and taehyung? they should be here to greet their youngest; pull him into a warm hug, and feed him the comfort of a real family.
jungkook crumbles to the ground, mouth splitting around the sobs that leave him. he brackets his face between two knobby knees, which peek through ripped, skinny jeans - all pale and scratched-up like the rest of him. it isn't enough when he wraps his arms around himself, curling the tips of his fingers into his bare arms to silence the demon in his head.
without them, you have no reason to live.
-
the blade glints orange under the lamp.
jungkook is numb inside. his brain is a buzzing entity, full of broken logic and faulty solutions. should he do this? he doesn't seem to care anymore, as the light bounces off the kitchen knife gripped in his right palm. it's got a sleek blade, brown stem, and grooves that fit perfectly around jungkook's slim, tattooed fingers. the inked letters 'J M' and 'T H' stand boldly on the ridges of his knuckles, mocking him in the early hour of the morning.
they're still not back.
jungkook gives up waiting.
the first movement is quick. a fine slice across the back of his hand, where the black tiger-lily splits into two halves. the blood spills over, gliding over his tendons, tracing lines of red into an inked bracelet. jungkook sniffles, dipping his clean hand into the hot stickiness. it feels funny between his nails, drying quickly like the watercolours in mrs yang's art class.
he doesn't have the guts to slice through the initials. so he simply scrapes his knuckles along the rough brick wall, relishing the burning heat in his hand.
jungkook doesn't care to clean up. it's already a mess, so why bother?
-
the mattress is hard.
jungkook usually has his hyungs wrapped around him, softening the emptiness and hardness of his suroundings. but they are gone.
the mattress is hard, and jungkook can't fall asleep.
he stares at his outstretched palm, the ridges and grooves washed blue under the moonlight. he forgot to close the window again. but really, who cares? no one is home to care. jungkook is a shell; empty and hollow, scraped out from the bottom of the ocean, forced into daylight - forced into living. why should he keep living? he is only a shell.
he turns his hand around. the congealed blood looks ugly - all mangled and disfigured. maybe that's what jungkook should become. a mangled, disfigured entity, forced to float through life like an unwanted speck of dust. he wishes someone would blow him away, only so he can feel something.
"you make me begin..." he sings, voice cracking over the syllables that are entrenched with pain. "you made me again..." he sobs, tears gliding over the bridge of his nose, landing on the crusting mattress like liquid diamonds.
there is no one to collect them.
they are no longer precious.
he is no longer precious.
why is he still here?
-
jungkook is only 16 when his hyungs leave him.
he is 17 when he gets his first job. (mr lee gives him time to grieve - what a nice man). and he is 18 when he gets fired due to being too young and weak. he is 19 when he starts smoking, and 20 when he begins full-time work at a convenience store - ministop. he is 21 when he gets a pet dog - bam. he pours his heart into taking care of the little runt. he is 22 when he gets his third tattoo, and 23 when the unthinkable happens.
he is 23 when he is reborn. he is 23 when his life returns in the most painful way ever. he is 23 when the world starts moving again.
he is 23 when his hyungs come back.
-
hey guys :))
part two will be up soon. hope you guys liked this one!
