Isn't it often said that the smallest among us should receive the greatest love and care? In this agony of what he claims as existence, it seems that this sentiment is almost sacred, an unwritten rule of the universe. Yet, for Jungkook, this rule ha...
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𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 /həʊld/ 발음 알아보기 verb 1. grasp, carry, or support with one's arms or hands.
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Third person POV
It's either now to take the pain away or never right ?
That's what the boy thought his glossy eyes and red cheeks, his fingers fumbling with the familiar blade in his fingers, his breath hitching every now and then the pain becoming overwhelming. It was 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩.
He couldn't handle it. He was too young and naïve to do so, placing the metal blade in his small wrist the younger softly- but hardly made a cut- hissing closing his doe eyes tightly feeling the piercing pain shot Up to his hand to his body making him numb.
That's what he wanted- the physical pain to overcome the emotional one.
𝘚𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵.
His breath skipping as his small fingers drops the blade head tilting back brimming with small droplets of tears as he let it get to him, the pain, the sorrow, let the physical pain take over it until he feels at bliss a little.
"Why a-always me?" He stuttered out softly wiping his tears from his cheeks walking to the bathroom to wash his blood-full wrist.
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Fear, hurt, pain.
That's all what jungkook experienced the carving need of happiness made the Boy deprived, scared of love but wanting it, Acura's to let himself break but still did it.
It's as if how you would describe the feeling of being taken care of for the first time- a little hesitant, scared of what's going to happen, will the Person be burdened ? The way you are slowly being held upon a chest soft puffs of Breath coming in and out softly calming your beating heart.
Jungkook carved that.
The little boy walked around the house when the whole family was seeing a movie, his small hands clasped together, lips quivering— he was sick.
Awful. Absolutely awful. He felt so heavy in the heart- as if someone has put up a rock on your chest telling you to breath normally, the prickling tears fell down his eyes desperately trying to find medicines and blankets— his head light , footsteps being awfully hard.
It was hell. The younger let out a choked sob, looking Around finally finding the 'medicine box' waddling to it and picking out paracetamol, taking his baby hands and pouring himself a class of water chunking doesn't he medicine going to his room closing the door slowly snuggling into his sheets sobbing softly , the nausea increasing as he carved being held by someone, desperately trying to snuggle into the mattress as the younger failed to feel a presence at all.
He needed to be just held. Was it that hard to ask?
—— A/n- hey guys, sorry I took soooo long, I was mentally not okay at all, and didn't felt like writing my past would help me, now I'm doing pretty great so I decided to post— though you might notice the change in style of my writing and I hope you don't mind it!
