Loudass Emo

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Jimin's POV
"Dead visions in my brain. Dead fingers in my veins." The music blared out from the other room, rattling the entire house. "Dead memories in my heart."

Who the fuck even listens to Slipknot anymore!? I groaned as the next distasteful song started to play, volume increasing.
Try as I might, I couldn't stop the sound from penetrating my safe haven of a room.
Not even being covered by several layers of blankets, wrapping three scarves around my head with my headphones up on full blast could drown out the awful ruckus.

It's only been a month since my mum remarried and became a 'Min' a year after my dad committed suicide.
While my stepdad was very nice, he just didn't seem like the type of person I saw my mum with.
My dad was the happiest person I knew. Even though we weren't rich and even though we didn't have much and he worked a small job, we were thankful and glad to have each other.

It was extremely hard to adjust to him not being around anymore. He'd always seemed perfectly normal- like a dad should act- to me, always smiling around my mum and bringing her flowers after work, making sure to help me with my homework when he could. After Is found him, I could only assume that he was hurting and both my mother and I were blinded by is acts. My therapist told me sometimes people hid what they were truly feeling so they wouldn't hurt the people they care about.

I didn't believe him though.

The past year my mother and I had come to accept that it wasn't our fault and didn't blame each other for anything that happened; he was just very unwell, to the point to where there was no fixing him, I guess.
While I did hate being the only 'Park' left in the house, I couldn't resent my mother for remarrying so quickly. She deserved every right to be happy again; move on and start over.

"My legs are dangling off the edge, the bottom of the bottle is my only friend. I think I'll slit my wrist again and I'm gone, gone, gone, gone~" The sadistically upbeat jingle blasted through the house.

"That fucker." I grit my teeth to prevent myself from marching over to my stepbrother's room and strangling him with the wires permanently glued in his ears.

Instead, I took a deep breath and sat up from my uselessly un-sound-proof mountain, unwrapped the scarves from around my head and calmly made my way over to politely ask him to turn it down.

I stopped in front of his door, twisted the knob and entered on my own into the barren wasteland of crumpled up papers (I was told to not pick up), stacks of various notebooks (I was told to never touch) and a bunch of old speakers and other tech (told not to look at) thrown half hazardously across the teal carpet.
I took a good look at the room, not finding a trace of the Metallica enthusiast anywhere.
Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I started to search around for where I could possibly find his phone, or stereo- anything- so I could throw it out the god damn window.
Or at least turn it off.

"The fuck are you doing in my room shorty." A voice shouted, just barely heard over the roar of music.
I spun around and came face-to-face with a pale, thin mourner. Min yoongi had to be one of the most depressing looking souls I'd ever seen in my life; black boxers, a black baggy t-shirt, mismatched black socks differing in length, black beanie covering his messy black hair, black eyeliner around his eyes, and a small black hoop earring on just the left cartilage of his ear.

Must be a new one. I thought, cautiously tilting my head to inspect the accessory.

"Can you turn the music down?!" I shouted, watching his eyebrows knit together in a confused grimace.

"What?" He yelled.

"Turn the fuckin music down!" I yelled back, cupping my hands around my mouth as a makeshift megaphone.
The older boy pulled his beanie off, revealing the messily curled hair he'd aquired over the past few days of skipping school and not showering. He walked up, tilting his head and cupping his ear so I could repeat.
I grabbed his neck and yelled as loud as my vocal chords would allow,

Not Today || Yoonmin #Wattys2017Where stories live. Discover now