misfits. bts ot7

five

"hey, tae? what was your mom like?"

jungkook and taehyung were in the truck alone, parked in the lot of a grocery store where the rest of the group was shopping for something to make a dinner out of.

"i don't know, kook. she ran away when i was twelve." a bitter look clouded his features. "i guess she's a bitch, leaving me behind to save her own ass."

"why would she leave someone like you?"

"what do you mean?"

"someone so beautiful."

the truck went silent as taehyung stared into jungkook's eyes searching for a hint of insincerity.

"i'm not beautiful, jungkook." he scoffed and sighed. "not even close."

"yes you are, tae," jungkook mumbled. "i'm saying this as your closest and most trusted friend. you're beautiful."

taehyung nuzzled his cheek into jungkook's arm. "hey, kook? forget all the bullshit you just said, why don't you eat a lot anymore?"

jungkook smiled slightly, the grin not quite reaching his eyes. "that'd be like me asking you why you don't fight back when your dad hits you. i just can't eat." a beat. "but really, why don't you fight back? i answered you. it's your turn now."

hesitation brushed his lips.

"just can't, i guess," taehyung said. "it's the mentality. the second he slaps me, the moment he hits me or smashes a bottle of beer on the floor next to me, i'm suddenly eight again." his voice cracked. "this sort of... wave crashes over and i lose myself. i'm in the corner crying and screaming and begging and scrambling away on my ass covered in bruises because i'm suddenly not 17 anymore. i'm eight, i'm seven, i'm six. i'm small and weak and i'm a little kid again. i feel powerless." he paused. "i just get too scared, i guess. why else would i just let him toss me around?"

"you should fight back."

"well, you should eat."

"shut the fuck up, taehyung." jungkook muttered as the door opened and hoseok stepped into the car.

"you two looked intimate. what was going on here?"

"we fucked, hoe, what do you think?" taehyung retorted, as he pulled a blanket over his knees. "i need a nap. wake me up when we get a place to stay for the night. said too much today, i'm tired."

"said too much?" yoongi raised an eyebrow. "what does he mean by that?"

conversation died down as the car started and pulled out of the parking lot.

trees and grass turned into highways and then the highways turned into small buildings lined across streets with lampposts and lit up doors to old bars with mossy bricks. seokjin drove with namjoon in the passenger seat, talking as the other boys fell asleep.

"do you think they're all okay?" seokjin whispered.

"who?"

"all of them. tae, kook, jimin, hoseok, yoongs... you and me. all of us."

"no, i don't think we are."

"how do we make it so that we're okay?"

the car stopped as seokjin parked on the side of a street beside an open motel.

"i don't know, jin. i don't know."

° ° °

jungkook went outside as soon as he awoke the next morning.

the sky was cloudy and gray, casting a dark shadow over the streets.

he saw yoongi sitting on the sidewalk the second he stepped outside.

he was holding a cigarette.

jungkook sat down beside him.

"still haven't given up your habit?"

"guess not."

yoongi took the cigarette from his mouth and looked at it, watching the orange light flicker. he burned it out on the back of his hand, not noticing when jungkook grimaced.

"yoongi!"

"what? i'm just making sure that i still feel shit."

they went silent for a few seconds before yoongi said, "you've lost a lot of weight, jungkook."

"not really," jungkook replied. "i haven't noticed."

"you shouldn't skip meals. it's not good for you."

"you shouldn't burn out cigarettes on your skin. it's not good for you."

"can you just listen to me without giving me that goddamn sass of yours for once?"

jungkook smirked.

"i know i have my own problems. but yours are more important, kook," yoongi said. "you're young, smart. you have a whole life ahead of you, and you and seokjin are probably the only two within us that haven't fucked up the rest of your lives yet."

"so?"

"get better. please," yoongi whispered. he was nearly begging now. "for us."

jungkook gave him a small, sad smile. "i like the feeling of starving. i don't want to get better, yoongs." he got up and went back into the motel, climbing up the stairs with weak, bone thin legs to their room.

he hated himself so much.

hated himself for liking the feeling of starvation and emptiness. for liking the feeling of throwing up whatever he'd been forced to eat because it made him feel like he had control.

he hated himself for allowing himself to become so lost and hurt and so fucking insecure.

oh god, jungkook hated himself more than he could hate anyone else in the world.

and that was the worst part of it all.