Colours|| k.th + j. hs [Completed]

Red Sleeves

Note: Why do I hate myself more than you hate me?

"I won't say anything."

HoSeok's eyes were as wide as saucepans when that sentence that weighed so heavily on his shoulders gracefully fell past Jimin's full red lips.

Why? The repetition of the word itself was taunting. Making a mockery of his actions as he stood there, wads of blood stained tissues wrapped ever so loosely around his flimsy wrist.

    "You won't?" His words were just as weak as he was, they sounded empty even though they were supposed to be filled with hope and gratitude. They were supposed to be filled with enough hope to reassure him that he had a friend within the small child who held a blank look on his face.

"I could tell them, rather I should tell someone, but what would that do?" He asked, titling his head as he carried on washing his soft hands. Staring HoSeok dead into the eyes through the glass mirror. "I know how it is to self destruct." Jimin sighed, flashing his hands before wiping them off on his baggy long sleeved shirt. The same shirt he was wearing when the two boys first met.

"Yo-you do?" HoSeok asked, stumbling and stammering over his words as a dry cough heaved through his chest. Watery eyes firmly planted on his dusty shoes, he had to avoid Jimin's burning stare. He felt as though Jimin could see into the deepest, darkest parts of his withering soul.

    Maybe he was right. Jimin was undeniably quiet and he did often take notice of HoSeok's curious stare. He could tell from the very first day they met that he found him intriguing. Similarly to the strange aura of desolation he thought surrounded him, the boy could also recognized the stigma of hurt on his life line.

    "How could you of all people? Why would you?" He hiccuped, squeezing tightly at his bleeding arm to elicit the most gruesome of pains that he could ever imagine. His bottom lip trembling as he held the tears back as best he could.

   "HoSeok, I feel pain too you know." Jimin sighed, shaking his head before gently tugging at the boy's hand, a look of sadness morphing his soft boyish features for the worst. He's also been through that point in his life where he thought that he couldn't-shouldn't live to see another day.

    No one took his words for what it was, so he often found himself quiet and desolate. A nobody, just existing without creating experiences like the people around him. Being a ghost of himself. After months of being detached, unfriendly and emotionless, he finally figured out that he was not only hurting the people he was casting off, but he was like wise hurting and isolating himself.

   Jimin fell into a black hole, wanting to beg for help even though he didn't know how to. At this point, Jimin truly lost his voice.

    Giving up on his warm heart and sweet personality.

   The boy eventually realized that even with the fear that was now apart of him, he'd lose something far more worse than his sunshine personality. He'd lose the people he loved and the ones that truly loved him back. So, he fought, using shear will power to replace his abused and battered soul with love. He gradually grew to feel the presence of the people that felt the pain he refused to feel.

    He found friendship.

As he slowly loosened the wadded tissue wrap from the length of HoSeok's arm, he told the story of his own need to leave the life he was given. He spoke softly and reassuringly, telling the boy to never look away from the people who felt like he was their world. HoSeok tried to understand, but who could love him? He was perplexed, his mind void of the faces that felt like he was indeed at the center of their universe.

    Who could that person be? He had no one!

After his arm was all cleaned and bandaged, Jimin picked up the box that was left scattered on the floor, carefully reaching for each blade before giving it a once over. This was apart of his old life, his life that he was happy to rewrite. Apart of his history that he could share with HoSeok to further help him on his journey of self acceptance.

     Without much thought, he gathered the blades and flung them into the toilet before flushing them away. Away from the ones he loved. He loved HoSeok, he loved his new friend. He loved his missing smile, he loved the way his eyes twinkled and somewhere within this realization, Jimin accepted that fact that he would walk across the world to bring his friend's happiness right back to him.

    Right where it belonged. 

   "See these?" Jimin asked, rolling his oversized red sleeve up to reveal his must precious secret. His pretty skin lined with different length and sized scars. Scars of regret and condemnation. "This was the old me, and this.." He said, tenderly bringing HoSeok's arm between his warm palms once more.

    "Isn't you."