tattoo ink | yoonkook

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"j-just, just one, more?" a currently drunk jungkook slowly slid out from his lips and spoke into the air. the bartender shook his head. "kid, you need to go home." he slid the bills back to the younger. "how far do you live?" he asked. jungkook had his head resting on his arm, which was layed flat on the counter pointing to the bartender. "mmm, upstairs." he said.

"walk yourself there, come on, let's go." jungkook groaned. he just wanted another drink, more fun. "fine, fine. i'm going. i'm innocent, officer!" he laughed, the bartender just walked behind him making sure the drunk boy didn't fall. his hand on jungkook's back, he shook his head, leading him to the door. he opened it, and a stumbling jungkook made his way to the sidewalk. he waved gooodbye to the bartender, smiling, and walked just around the corner to his stairs.

there were only a few apartments on the top, luckily jungkook wasn't very close to anybody else.

he came home drunk a lot. even though nobody else was there to deal with his slurred words and tripping over his own two feet, it didn't make it any less real.

the boy grabbed his keys out of his pocket, fumbling with them until he saw the one he needed.

walking into his small apartment, he throws his keys on the table right before sitting in a chair right next to them. he runs his hands through his hair, eyeing all of the cracks in the table. he shook his head realizing what he was looking at, and what it meant to him.

jungkook had a problem with getting tattoos. he didn't think so. but everyone around him told him he does. usually when people get tattoos, they get something inspirational or happy, something that they love and cherish in life.

jungkook always got small ones representing something bad that had happened in his life. for example, he has an open bottle of alcohol on his hip and a broken engagement ring behind his ear.

he had about three or four on his body, just little ones. you couldn't see them, they were all in places that were always covered up by clothes or just weren't somewhere you would usually look at someone at first glance.

the boy stood up, dragging his feet to his room. he opens the door to see a lazily made bed and his outfit from the night before right next to it. the clothes he was wearing now would very likely end up there. he took his shoes off and climbed into his bed, pulling out his phone.

"aish, so bright." he says, after turning it on. he squints before looking at his notifications again, then looking at the time.

1:56 in the morning. jungkook wanted to care, but he really didn't. it was now saturday, he could just sleep his hangover away like he always did.

he started to think about what had just happened at the bar, how he was forced to leave because he'd been drinking too much. he shook his head. jungkook wasn't proud of the fact that he rank too often, but it was the only thing that made him feel anything. sex, his job, his friends, they did nothing for him anymore. he hated it, and didn't want to admit it to himself. he missed how he used to be. alive, happy, healthy. he wanted that boy back, he needed that boy back.

jungkook looks at his phone again, unlocking it this time. he scrolls through his messages, finding a group chat he had with his friends. he didn't text them anything, he just scrolled to the very top deciding to read all of the conversations they had. the first texts were from years ago, one of the older boys in his friend group explaining the groupchat and why he made it, followed by everyone else sending a thumbs up emoji or a "cool!"

the next was them all talking about a test they had, they thought middle school was so hard. there was the time when one of them talked about his first kiss, another when they talked about school ending, summer starting. then maturing and talking about parties, feelings, family stuff.

jungkook grew emotional the more and more he read. he missed his innocence, everyone's innocence.

he wanted that innocence back again, but there wasn't any "going back." all of this friends were gone now, doing their own things. successful, and not what jungkook was. jungkook was sad. and his friends were happy. he wanted to be happy like them, and he knows he can't have it. it crushes him to know how he's been, and he knows he can't change anything.

for jungkook there was no turning around, no starting over. he let himself become this mess, so he had to deal with living as it.

the boy sits up, looking around his room and setting his phone on the bed next to him. he sits with his legs crossed like a kid in school while the teacher is reading to the class. he looks at the few things he has, a couple CD's, some books. jungkook sits up, and stands himself on his knees turning around to look at the pictures he has on his wall above his bed. the pictures were of his friends, the ones in the text messages. jungkook looks at all of them.

one of them was all six of the boys in front of a huge building, a museum. they were all smiling, jungkook looked so happy. he loved art, history, literature. things he could learn about.

another was just a few of them, jungkook and a couple other boys. one of them was much shorter than him, his eyes smiled when his mouth did. the other boy was taller than the other, and his eyes were scrunched closed and he smiled without his teeth showing, and two peace signs placed on his cheeks.

jungkook looks away, he couldn't take looking at his best friends and knowing that he'd never see them again. he felt his face, the boy didn't even realize he had been crying.

jungkook gets a sudden rush of anger, rushing to the kitchen for scissors, coming back and furiously snipping off all of pictures on the string lines.

one by one, his friends were gone. he sighs, it comes out more like a yell. jungkook lays down, falling asleep with pictures all over his floor and scissors in his hand.

3:08 in the morning.