Breathe Me | Jikook

1

Jungkook was in his room on his bed, music blasting through his headphones as he stared up at the ceiling, hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. The paint on the ceiling wasn't completely smooth, leaving patterns for him to find with his eyes, shapes to make out with his mind. It was one of the things he found that calmed him after a long day at school.

He immersed himself into the beats of the song and let his eyes drift shut. He wasn't going to sleep; he didn't feel at ease enough to do that. What he was doing, however, was imagining the rest of his evening: completing his homework, sketching things he saw around his room, coloring old works he never finished.

Whenever he started to draw something, his mind would zone in on that, and his hand would move almost by itself, creating images that were never quite good enough. But the best part was the fact that everything else faded away. The ever looming future, the dread, the shadows.... Everything disappeared. It was the only time he—

"Jeon Jungkook!"

A slam followed the words—his door hit the wall of his room—the resonating sound echoing through his mind and shattering the relative okayness he had built around himself.

"I can't take this anymore!" His mother shouted. His breath felt shallow as he slowly peeled his eyes open and rolled to his left side so he could see her.

People always said he looked like his mother, but he could never see it. Especially in this moment, when her brown eyes were wide and teary, and her mouth was parted in something that might have been shock, might have been fury.

"Taehyung just told me you didn't eat lunch, again." Jungkook's stomach dropped as he took one earbud out of his ear.  "Your brother told me you didn't eat breakfast this morning. At dinner you eat half of what you used to. Why aren't you eating? Are you scared you're going to get fat? Is that it?"

Jungkook didn't want to talk about it. Jungkook didn't want to talk to his mother, who still saw him as the person he was last year, before everything set in and made each day hell.

"I just can't eat, mom." He said.

"You have to eat. You look like a twig! When you were little you had these adorable cheeks and such a cute little bo—"

"I know." Jungkook said, his voice quiet. He could see the transformations in his body himself, everyday when he looked in the mirror in the mornings. It made him not want to, because he missed who he was.

His mom's eyes softened. "Honey, you know you can talk to me, right?"

No, no I can't, He thought, but he didn't say that out loud. If he told her, then she would take him to a doctor or something, or she would think he was pathetic for feeling that way for no apparent reason.

"I know."

After this, his mom was silent, wondering if she should and could say something, but instead she pressed her lips into a thin line and said,

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes." And with that, she turned and left the room.

Jungkook hated every word in that sentence. Dinner meant shoving food down his throat even though it tasted like ashes, even though it would come back up later. Eating with his family meant having them try to guilt trip him into telling them everything, even though that was the last thing he wanted to do. But he knew they were still going to try and pry it out of him anyway.

His mom didn't even shut the door after she left the room, leaving it open. His brother's door was open across the hall, and he was inside, sitting at his desk, studiously doing his homework. His room was much lighter than Jungkook's, due to the fact that it was on the west side of the house and the sun was setting. The sunlight was shining off the white paper and reflecting into his brother's, Jung-hyun's, eyes, but he didn't seem to notice.