Love Yourself: Him

S: B M A S

 Despite leaving early, it doesn't stop the others from texting him.

from taeehyungs

hey um

sorry if i came on really strong?

i just thought we could have some fun!

from yongi

Hey, you left early again >:(

Nah I'm kidding

Hey don't worry about Tae either, he's just eccentric

I wanna hang out with you tho next time! <3

from jismsn

Ahhhh, you left and I couldn't see how your leg was doing!

I hope it's feeling better

Come back soon so I can look at it and see when the stitches will come out!

Jeongguk lies on the floor of his apartment and doesn't move. Namjoon probably doesn't know he's left their house yet. He tries to feel his body against the floor, the floor against his body. He closes his eyes and wills himself to imagine he's floating, get that tingling, sleeping feeling in his body to feel everything before he can feel nothing, with no interruptions.

When he moves again, it's like moving for the first time. No one's walked by his door and looked to see if he's okay. Maybe they know he isn't and never will be.

There's a bruise on his shoulder and his arm is asleep from where he'd been laying on it.

He sits up and shuts the door with his foot, his bad leg, not wanting to reveal to the outside what he's going to do. His leg hurts, Jimin had never given him any painkillers.

If he had, Jeongguk would've taken the whole bottle in one go. Maybe it works for mental pain, too.

The stitches make a bump underneath the gauze and he undoes the clip, letting the material fall. The black stitching in his skin. Needle and thread, cross stitch on his material skin. The lettering on the gauze is broken up and smeared.

Jimin could've sent him to the hospital. Could've admitted him and gotten him help that way instead of patching up his cut and telling him he isn't alone, isn't a lost cause.

But isn't he?

He picks at the stitching. Will Jimin get upset at him for ruining his hard work? Pulling apart a handyman's job with a few simple tugs, ruining twenty minutes of work in two seconds?

Does it matter?

Jeongguk undoes the stitching in a fell tug, and watches as the dead skin releases. He runs a long nail, untrimmed and dirty, sharp and jagged, along the cut and watches as it starts to bleed again.

Can he choke himself with the stitches? Or will the cut be enough?

His phone goes off.

from yongi

Hey are you okay?

I'm asking bc Joon's asking

Idk why he doesn't txt you himself

No. He's not.

from yongi

Maybe I should come to your house sometime tho!

It's so BORING here, Hobi ruins the fun

Pls txt back :(((

No, he can't, and no, he won't.

No, no, no, no.

No.

Jeongguk throws his phone in a direction, he isn't sure which one, and stumbles his way to his room where he lies on the bed, looking for some kind of recognition of comfort that doesn't reside in him any longer. Everything is uncomfortable, everything is just...nothing.

The next week following tastes like nothing. Like air, not sharp cold or wet hot. Plain rice, tree bark. Mineral water.

Just...nothing.

He gets yelled at again. He gets smiled at again. He gets everything and it just feels like nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

Knife, nothing, sleep, nothing, life, nothing.

Death, maybe something.

More blood, nothing, more cuts, nothing.

Death.

Maybe something.

Jeongguk shuffles awake to the sound of knocks on his front door.

"Hello, Ggukie?" a deep voice resonates. He's tired. His leg hurts, lost more blood. "Can I come in? It's Suga!" A pause, "Or Yoongi, whatever you want to call me."

He can't get up, won't get up, never wants to get up ever again. has reached a point where he'll waste away without anything else in his life so that death can claim him without problem.

The front door opens and footsteps shuffle until Yoongi is standing right there in the doorway, looking down at him.

"What the f- Jeongguk," Yoongi says, kneeling down and tapping his cheek. "Are you okay, what happened? What did you do to yourself now?"

Yoongi's eyes scan down to his leg, multitudes of blood marks on the sheet, the knife is still underneath his leg, sitting there.

"I...," Yoongi hums. "Namjoon's right outside, we came to see if you wanted sushi." Jeongguk doesn't respond. "We don't have to. We can go home."

Jeongguk doesn't care.