BTS Dark One-Shots {On Hold for Requests}

Bipolar [RM/Namjoon]

I felt like I haven't been active with this book lately, so here's some dark stuff for all us psychopaths out there, AKA me. Also, please don't be afraid to leave a request. I need things to keep me busy, so just go leave them on the request page. Thank you! Happy Reading! <3

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My adrenaline rushed through my veins, my nerves on edge. My body shook horribly as I stood there in the middle of the room, my gun pointed at the dead man's head. Blood poured out of the middle of his forehead where the gun shot lied. Blood had splattered around the white floor and wall behind him. It dropped ever so slowly down, hypnotizing it seemed.

The door to the room suddenly opened, the noise coming to ear. My head didn't even bother to look over at him as his fancy dress shoes clacked against the hard floor. My hands squeezed the empty gun. I only had one shot. One shot to shoot and hit that guy to die. That's all I did.

His footsteps faltered behind me. I could feel his intense brown eyes staring me down, his slight smirk on his face. He always had it on when I was around. It was like I amused him. I doubted I could ever make him that pleased. I was something that he wasn't supposed to even mess with, and he knew that.

"You did an excellent job," his deep voice rang out through the white room, seeming to bounce off the bare walls. It sent shivers down my spine, my body still trembling. I swallowed down the lump that was starting to form in my throat. "It could've been a much cleaner job if you weren't as shaky, but I admire your skill."

I bit my lip, closing my eyes for a second. My arms that held the gun out in front of me were starting to get tired. I wasn't able to move, though. I was afraid to. I was afraid to do anything knowing myself. "Just leave me the hell alone."

"Au contraire," he said, his voice growing dangerously close to me. I was starting to stiffen up, my teeth clenching. I felt myself wanting to whimper and hide away from him. "I'm not giving up on you just yet, darling."

His hand suddenly landed on my shoulder. My eyes snapped open, my hands snapping around, the end hilt of the gun hitting his temple. He cried out, stumbling back a bit. I stared at him in shock, watching the sudden blood pour down from his temple, his fingers hitting the sticky liquid. Just seeing him seething made a laugh want to bubble in my throat.

"This is why," he said, pointing at me slightly, his eyes on the ground, "I don't give you extra bullets."

That sudden laugh popped out of my mouth, my body shaking even more. My mind raced with so many thoughts. I felt my fingers slip out from around the gun hilt, the pistol falling to the ground with a clatter. I reached up, clenching my hair in a fist. The laughs that came out of my mouth weren't normal; they were just like the ones at the mental asylum.

He stood up slowly, the amusement in his eyes now gone. The blood dripped down his cheek like a tear, but red and hot. His brown hair was perfect like always, but his brown eyes showed something deadlier. His fingertips were stained with blood from touching the sides of the laceration. What a beautiful sight.

He sighed, reaching out and gently grabbing my wrist. I didn't argue as he pulled me towards him, his hands grabbing both wrists. Those little bursts of laughter escaped my mouth, but he stared down at me with his serious eyes. Those serious eyes that always seemed to scare me, but now I was going my insane ways. There was not an ounce of worry inside me.

His hand made mine reached up. He placed my fingertips on the cut I had given him, letting me feel the bloody mess. It was warm against them. My laughter stopped, my body starting to stop shaking. He looked down at me, watching my face closely. I could feel that crazed smile leave my face, leaving horror to take its place.

"Now, that's better," he said, his voice monotone. His hand brought my fingertips away from his face, but kept my wrist in his grasp. His lips were pulled in a tight line, his eyes hooded with a touch of anger. He looked like he was holding back. 

"I-I'm sorry," I started to sob, trying to pull my wrists out of his grip. His fingers tightened against my skin, holding me there. The panic was starting to get the best of me, my heart throbbing in my throat. "Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean to!"

"Look at me closely." His eyes held mine, still angry, but it was starting to fade away. The blood on the side of his face was slowly pouring down, the red of it seeming to blind me. He didn't let me back off of the stare down, though. He kept out eyes intact, looking at me closely. I could slowly feel myself melt away into nothingness.

"You have an incredible mind," he said quietly, his bloody fingertips leaving blood along my skin. "You see things that no one is able to see. I'm just letting you embrace your full potential. Don't you dare think I'm mad. That was just a little mistake. I'd rather you do that instead of give up on me. Do you understand all that?"

I bit my lip, nodding gently. The tears were streaming down my cheeks, my throat hurting from the lump growing in it. I felt like collapsing to the ground, my body shaking and out of control. How was I going to surpass this? How was I supposed to survive this? My whole life I wanted a healthy mind, and this wasn't how to do that. He said he was always helping me, but in reality, he wasn't. It made me just want to die.

His hands fell away from my wrists, falling down to his sides. He looked like he was just as business as ever. He nodded to himself slowly, pondering. He sucked in his breath, staring down at me. "I'll leave you to it, then."

He turned on his heel. It was like magic that the door to the room opened, it suddenly appearing. The door was always camouflaged into the wall, so I could never really determine where it was. He walked out of the room, the door closing behind him. The sudden rush of loneliness fell onto my shoulders, crushing my soul.

I looked down at my wrists and hands. They were stained with his blood. My hands shook, my knees wanting to give out. There was blood everywhere. It was all in my head. I looked up, watching the walls cave in with the redness. This always happened whenever I witnessed something tragic. This always happened when I could feel myself breaking away.

A sob escaped my mouth as I slammed my eyes close, my hands pressing against the sides of my thighs. I just wanted all of this to end. I just wanted him to leave me to myself. I never thought I would say this, but I wanted to be back at the mental asylum. I guess I would never get that wish, though . . .