wallflower | taekook

thirty nine.

"Cries for help are
frequently inaudible."
— Tom Robbins

Jungkook's POV

When I was little my parents used to say that when it rained that was the gods way of crying for the sadness in the world. They would cry and be angry with the people on earth for finding harm and despair despite the privileges we have for being able to live on a land full of reachable health and opportunity.

It was sunny outside today. The gods didn't want to cry for me and my sadness, and I didn't want to cry for myself. I deserved it all. All the pain inside my chest and pounding in my head was a reminder of how fucked up I was.

The tile of the kitchen floor was cold through my sweatpants and I leaned my head back against the cupboards as I sat on the floor. My knees were up to my chest and I rested my arms on them watching a trail of blood drip down my hand to my wrist.

I couldn't stop crying earlier, not until I got a headache so strong that I couldn't see clearly and my throat was dry from my sobs. That was maybe two hours ago.

I tried to clean up to keep my mind busy, to keep from seeing him walking out the door in my mind. I closed my eyes for a second, his face flashed through my mind and I accidentally cut my hand with a knife while in the kitchen.

My first instinct wasn't to stop the bleeding, because pain from anywhere other than my heart was welcomed.

That's how I came to sit on the kitchen floor watching the blood trail down my hand and dry slowly. I was so entranced by something other than my own sadness that I didn't at first notice the door to my apartment open.

He didn't say anything when he saw me, and I didn't try to hide anything.

Yoongi just shut the door behind him quietly and came walking over. I felt his hand slip under my arm and tug me up, "Come on Jungkook, help me a little here."

I just shook my head but pulled myself up to stand, "You shouldn't be here hyung." I whispered, my eyes were so heavy.

Yoongi placed both his hands on my neck and made me look at him, "Listen kid," his voice may have cracked a little, I couldn't tell if it was sadness or disappointment in his eyes, "We're all a little fucked up inside."

That's all he said to me, and that's all he needed to say. Because that one statement had all the sincerity in it and promise of help. Yoongi loved me and I knew that, I knew he would help me and not make me ask for it because I never would. I didn't deserve it.

He stayed for a while, cleaning my hand first and wrapping it in a bandage to keep it from possibly getting infected or just hurting in general. I couldn't tell if I wanted him to stay so I wouldn't be alone, or to leave so I didn't have to keep feeling his eyes on me the whole time. It was like Jimin all over again, always watching as if I'd do something stupid any minute.

"I'm going to grab something from my car real quick," Yoongi said standing up from the couch, "I'll be right back."

I just nodded and kept my eyes on the screen. The TV was on but I wasn't paying attention to what we were watching.

I was sitting in the same place when Yoongi came back into my apartment, he was speaking softly on the phone and had his arms full with a few bags of things. "Alright, I will, bye." he mumbled before hanging up his phone and setting it on the kitchen counter.

"What's all that?" I asked. My voice sounded funny, it was all the crying and lack of sleep that made it sound scratchy and sore.

Yoongi set his things down in the middle of the floor and grabbed something before walking over to me, "These are for you, call your mom." he said handing me a small packet of tissues and my own phone.

"Go on the balcony and talk to your mom, then we have some cleaning to do." he said.

It was hard to argue with Yoongi. And by that I mean you never argued with Yoongi. He always did and said things with purpose and there was always a reason, he was trustworthy.

So I took the tissue and my phone, keeping the blanket wrapped around my shoulders as I walked over to the sliding glass door and pushed it open. The cold breeze blew in my face and I tightened my grip on the blanket. I had a chair and small table out on the balcony, I used to read a lot out here.

I sat down in the chair and unlocked my phone to call my mom, my thumb hovering over her name for a moment. Part of me didn't want to. But there was a bigger part that needed to.

I wiped at my cheeks and nose with one of the tissues and held the phone up to my ear. As is dialed I glanced through the sliding glass door and saw Yoongi wandering around doing a bunch of things. He was taking things out from the fridge and replacing them while also pulling out large garbage bags for some reason. I could see some things on the counter and he kept checking his phone.

It may have been the cold air, the chill that appeared on my bare arms not covered enough from the blanket. But that's not true. It was her voice, the soft delicate sound that I didn't know I missed so much.

"Jungkook?" she spoke through the phone. I had the sudden urge to cry again. "Honey, are you there?" she said after I couldn't find the ability to speak.

"Mom." my voice didn't crack, but it sounded like a whisper.

I could practically hear the smile in her voice as she exclaimed and called for my dad, "Oh it's so good to hear from you! How're you doing?"

That was the question. The one that should be so easy to answer, but it never seemed to be that way anymore. "Not so good mom." I managed to say, I felt a stray tear slip out and I wiped it away quickly. No more.

"Tell me what's wrong sweetie." my mom said. I felt like I was a little boy again, wanting to confide in my mom as if my bike broke and I scraped my knee making me cry to her for a bandaid.

But this time it was more than a scraped knee, and I needed more than a bandaid to fix it.
"I'm sorry Mom."

• ♡ •
hit that lil star