Devil I Jikook I

The

A/N: SO 'HER' KILLED ME...

I literally woke up at three in the morning for the music video and album... I don't regret it :D

This chapter is fairly long! Consider it an apology for the last couple chapters since they were so short.

JIMIN'S POV

After Jungkook and Yoongi left, the others treated me like I was made of glass; one wrong move or word and I'd break. They didn't criticize me; they didn't outright say I was doing something wrong like they usually do. They never do it with malicious intent; they want to help, and I appreciate their bluntness. But this time, they kept complimenting me, even though I knew I didn't deserve it. We eventually agreed to end practice since none of us could focus; we instead became worse instead of better.

I couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook the rest of the day. I mindlessly completed assignments, tuning out the music blaring through my earbuds. Hobi didn't talk much either; he simply stared at his textbook, probably not registering the words he was lazily scanning through.

Something's going on, but I'm being excluded. I don't care if I sound like a petty three-year-old; everyone knows something that I don't. Jungkook was evidently weak and in pain. Maybe he's sick? If he's hurt or something happened, why couldn't I help him? Why can't I help him? I've been told that I'm good at helping others. I could've helped him.

The next day, I woke up early to practice. It was Monday, which means I have no classes until noon. I left Hobi a note, telling him that I was in the usual dance room if he needed me. The last time I went early in the morning without telling Hobi, he nearly had a heart attack. My phone was blowing up with texts from him, and when I didn't respond since I silenced my phone, he assumed the worst that I was dead. I'd rather not receive the same two-hour lecture that I got last time.

The practice room was chilly, so I left my sweatshirt on, my palms disappearing into the long sleeves. Plugging my phone into the speaker, I began to rehearse, my concerns from the previous day vanishing.

I'm not sure what time it was when he came in. I don't remember ever taking a practice while I was practicing, to be honest. Jungkook came into the dance room, music blasting through his earbuds and face downcast towards his phone. I walked over to the speaker and paused the music so I could see what he needed. He didn't seem to notice me - or anything else for that matter. When he turned off his phone and pocketed it, he finally looked up, locking eyes with me. His eyes widened; his red, puffy eyes. A wave of dread washed over me. If I've learned anything about the younger over the time I've been here, it's that Jungkook never cried. Ever. Not when he landed on his back after attempting to execute a flip. Not even when he landed on his ankle and twisted it. He would grimace but laugh it off. Something was very, very wrong.

"I'm so sorry Jimin hyung. I'll leave now." His voice pierced through my thoughts. He began to turn away towards the door, but I instinctively reached out and grabbed his wrist. An expression of pain flickered on his face, prompting me to remove my hand quickly.

"I-I'm sorry if I hurt you Jungkook-ah. Please don't go. I want to help."

His expression grew sadder as he stared at his feet, unspeaking. He finally looked up, the light revealing the crystal tears trailing down his face. My heart dropped.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Jungkook bit his lip and nodded, wiping his tears with his sweatshirt. I walked over to him and put my arm around him, steering him towards the mirror. We sat down against the mirror, the cold mirror a sweet relief for my sweaty back. I had taken off my sweatshirt a while ago, so I was facing Jungkook in a muscle shirt and shorts, sweat dripping down my face. I'm sure it was very attractive (note the sarcasm).

"Tell me what happened Jungkook-ah."

Jungkook looked up from his lap with a sigh. He fidgeted with his fingers, avoiding my eyes. He finally began to speak.

"I-I got into a fight with Yoongi hyung. He screamed at me and told me that I was going to get myself killed if I didn't listen to him. " Jungkook hiccuped as tears leaked out of his eyes, hurriedly wiping them away.

His confession only raised more questions. Why did Yoongi yell at him? What were they arguing about?

Instead of using words, I responded by putting my arm around him and pulling him close, letting him cry on my shoulder as I did with Hobi. Jungkook stiffened when I did so, but soon melted into my touch.

"I-I'm s-so sorry Jimin h-hyung." I rubbed his back and shushed him.

"You're going to be alright. Everything is going to be okay." I assured him as his cries lessened. I felt him nod into my shoulder. He pulled away, tears gone.

"Th-thank you Hyung. I need to go now." His eyes turned from miserable to wild and frantic. I frowned and shook my head.

"You should stay here a little longer. You aren't in any condition to attend classes." Jungkook hastily shook his head and got up, movements rigid. I watched in horror as Jungkook sank to the ground, writhing in pain. He curled into a ball and clutched his head, harrowing sobs filling the dance room. "I'm so sorry!" He kept screaming through cries. I felt so useless; I didn't know how to help him. I wrapped my arms around him, but he immediately pulled away.

"S-stay away from me!"

Jungkook sprang up from the ground. Yanking his red beanie lower, he raced out of the room.

I was hurting him. Something I was doing was making him feel this pain. Was I... no, that can't possibly be it.

He would be avoiding me.

But he has been.

He would feel pain every time I touch him.

But he does.

I'm his devil.

I hissed as a searing pain erupted from my right wrist. Looking down at it, I was greeted with seven white tallies.

I was right.

I have seven days left.