Cherub|Vminkook

5

*warning* detailed self harm, lots of blood *y'all been warned*

Silence.

Silence was what filled his ears as he stepped into the apartment. Empty and quiet, not a sound to be heard save for the painful beating of his own heart. Like a tennis ball being thrown against his ribs, each hit bringing it closer to bursting free.

Moving, finally dragging his feet, Jungkook ended up in the bathroom. Staring at himself in the mirror. Eyes moving so fast he almost couldn't recognize himself. There were cuts on his face and a bruise under his eye. It wasn't something new, the scene before him wasn't scary, it was familiar. As if he was meant to look like this, beaten.

With shaking hands he lifted his uniform shirt to see dark bruises already decorating his ribs. Crawling up the side of his torso like ugly flowers blooming beneath his skin. Their thorns digging into his muscles until every movement left him tender with pain.

The pain was familiar too and as Jungkook traced the outline of the bruise with his fingertips, he realized it wasn't enough. This throb wasn't enough, this sting wasn't enough, if he was going to be in pain it had to be enough.

Dropping his shirt, he pulled open a drawer and grabbed the razor taped beneath it. The blade was new, shiny, sharp, ready to be used. He rolled up his sleeve to see pale skin littered with scars ready to be reopened. There was no hesitation, almost no shake in his hand as he pressed the blade to his wrist. The action was quick, practiced, and blood beaded out of his skin like rubies.

Again and again and again, until his sleeve stopped him from going any higher. Blood dripped to the floor around him, staining the white tiles with his filth, yet he couldn't stop. It still wasn't enough. This time the shake was there as he switched the blade to his other hand and pushed his sleeve up. The skin there wasn't as scarred, he was right handed after all, but somehow that excited him. It was a fresh canvas, sensitive and supple.

"Jeon Jungkook!"

The blade slipped from his bloody fingers and he watched it clatter to the floor. A splash of red surrounding it. Looking up, he locked eyes with his aunt who was shaking her head, a cigarette pinched between her fingers.

"Fucking Christ Jungkook...you just...ugh god I just cleaned the damn floor," she snapped and took a drag from the cigarette.

Jungkook looked down at the tiles to see the outline of blood around his shoes. Thick blood still streaming from his fingertips. "Oh...I'm sorry aunt Soomin."

She scoffed and her spindly fingers wrapped around his bicep. Her false nails dug into his skin, more pain, except he didn't want this kind. Yanking him from the bathroom, he was thrown into the wall and pushed forward. He stumbled into the kitchen and Soomin stopped him with a fistful of his shirt.

"I thought you stopped this bullshit." She gestured to the cuts and inhaled the cigarette.

Jungkook moved to pull his sleeve back down but Soomin grabbed his wrist, her hold like iron.

"Oh oh, don't go hiding it now, obviously you want people to see how sad you are huh?"

The words were sharp, like the blade. Their only purpose to hurt him, add to the pain, which was what he wanted, right?

Soomin pushed Jungkook and his back connected with the edge of the kitchen counter. He grabbed the counter, leaning as far away from the cruel woman as possible. He wanted to run. The door was right there, taunting him. Knowing he'd never do it, because he was weak.

With her hand balled into a fist, Soomin beat at his chest, once, twice, three times. Until breath was knocked from his lungs and he buckled forward, holding himself with his bloodied arms.