Breathe Me | Jikook

24

taehvung has sent you a message request

Jungkook had been getting that message a couple of times a day ever since that night in the snow. It hadn't slowed down at all and Jungkook both admired and despised Taehyung's persistence. Jungkook just didn't know how to face that situation without breaking down again, or without crying. He never wanted to burden Taehyung with any of it; he felt bad.

Jungkook awoke two days later to an unexplainable pain in his chest, a reminder that although he was happy about Jimin, he was still broken inside. When he sat up and took a shower—which took a monumentous amount of effort—he looked in the mirror and all he could see were his flaws: prominent ribs, twigs for legs, the burns on his arms that would only heal because he had moved to his hip in preparation for when the weather warmed.

That only made his previously bad  mood even worse than it was. It was calm, not as overwhelming as it used to be but it had grown sharp.

Jungkook wanted it gone. He wanted to feel normal, to think normal.

But that wasn't the case and likely never would be if he didn't change so he refused to dwell on it.

Instead, in contrast to everything he wanted to do, he gathered his sketchbooks, grabbed his coat, and went downstairs. In the kitchen he poured the soup he had cooked into a thermos and grabbed the liter bottle of water out of the refrigerator.

"Mom!" Jungkook yelled. "I'm leaving!"

He waited a moment, only a brief one to keep his mind on the leash, but got no response. He wasn't surprised at the absence of one as he slipped his timbs on and headed for the bus stop.

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"Don't get me sick." Was what Yoongi said as way of greeting. Despite the harshness used, Yoongi—if Jungkook could dare say—looked a little relieved to see Jungkook out and about. Yoongi turned and went back to his work, leaving the door open. Jungkook left the chilly hallway and shut the door behind himself.  He couldn't deny that he was nervous, but he strode in nonetheless.

Jimin was laying in his bed, blankets pulled up to his chin, eyes trained on the TV. An anime was playing, but the subtitles were off. Did Jimin know Japanese?

"Hey, Jimin." Jungkook said. He set his bags—one holding his sketches, the other the simple soup he had cooked for Jimin—on the bed as Jimin looked over, smiling. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Jimin said, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. "I took medicine when I got home the other day."

Jungkook felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

"To summarize," Yoongi said, not even glancing away from his computer, "you're not sick, just lazy."

Jimin flopped backwards, orange hair a mess. "Sounds about right."

"Why don't you go out and do something with Jungkook?" Yoongi asked.

"You just want me out of your way." Jimin said, sounding annoyed but he was already getting up. He wasn't even hesitating. That was why Jungkook hated having to say these next words.

"Actually, I can't."

Jimin froze, then pouted. "Why not?"

"I'm meeting with Namjoon to discuss the second draft." Jimin's frown deepened. "I didn't know if I had gotten you sick or not and I felt bad so I made you some soup and got you a giant bottle of water so you wouldn't have to move for a while."

Jimin's face lit up. "Really?"

Jungkook nodded.