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He didn’t know what had started it.
He didn’t know what had caused it.
All he knew was he felt numb.
Jeongguk couldn’t bring himself to climb out of bed. His eyes were open but he couldn’t bring himself to focus them on anything. He should get up, shower, eat breakfast, put on the facade of being okay, pretend like there wasn’t a hole in his chest where his heart was meant to be beating.
But he couldn’t do it.
The hollow feeling in his chest refused to fade, and it made him feel stupid.
Nothing had happened. Nothing was wrong. Life was good. He wasn’t going through a breakup, he hadn’t had his heart broken, his life wasn’t falling apart. In fact, his life was better than it had ever been.
But that didn’t matter.
His brain didn’t care how good things were.
All he knew was he felt numb.
He wanted to text one of the others in the dorm, to ask for help, to tell them that he was struggling, but his hands trembled too much to make his letters make any sense, so he gave up on that plan fast.
He could call one of them, but he didn’t want to pull the others out of any plans they had for the day.
It didn’t matter, after all. He was fine, he was okay, he just felt… bad.
They would think it was silly. They would think he was being dramatic for attention. They would judge him. They would treat him differently.
So he didn’t call out to them.
He didn’t send the message half written and misspelt.
He just locked his phone, and let it rest limply in his hand next to his face.
All he knew was he felt numb.
He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there for.
How long had it been since his eyes had opened?
Half an hour? One? Two?
Jeongguk didn’t know, and he didn’t care enough to figure it out.
His shoulder was beginning to hurt under him, from the position he was lying in, but rolling over required more energy than he had. He could shift his weight, move around, release the pressure on the joint.
But that would take too much energy. He didn’t have it. Physically, mentally, emotionally. There was nothing there. Nothing to expend. Nothing to release.
He wanted to cry. He wanted to release the pent up pressure inside him to hopefully get some relief, feel something other than hollow.
But he couldn’t.
All he knew was he felt numb.
Had the others noticed he wasn’t right?
Had they noticed he was broken?
Jeongguk doubted it.
He usually hid it quite well.
But there was only so long he could hold the mask up, smile and laugh along as if nothing was wrong in his world.
Because nothing was wrong.
He was popular, his group were successful, they had money, they had fans, they had support, they had each other.
So why did he feel so wrong?
Why did he feel so broken?
The breaths passing through his lips hurt his chest. It was only an ache, small and unassuming, but enough for Jeongguk to want to stop breathing all together.
Could he hold his breath for long enough?
Could he suffocate himself in the pillow?
Would it be painless?
Would he hurt his friends?
Jeongguk wanted to be alarmed by the thoughts in his head, but that took too much energy.
All he knew was he felt numb.
Jeongguk stretched, and his shoulder popped uncomfortably under him, pain shooting into the muscles of his neck.
He should get up, stretch, take that hot shower and loosen his muscles up.
But he couldn’t.
He could hear the others moving around in the dorm. Namjoon and Seokjin were talking in the kitchen. Jimin and Hoseok were shouting at the TV, laughing along with whatever they were watching. Yoongi and Taehyung were arguing, but the words didn’t sound hostile. It was probably a joking disagreement more than an actual argument.
Jeongguk wanted to get up. He wanted to go and join in with his friends. Have fun. Let his brain focus on something else for a while.
But that took too much energy.
He couldn’t even move, he couldn’t find the energy to breathe, did he really expect himself to get up and expend energy with the others?
The thought was almost laughable.
His brain noted that none of the others had come to check on him.
Maybe they thought he was sleeping in.
Maybe they were giving him the rest they thought he needed.
Jeongguk wished he was asleep.
But he was happy the others weren’t worrying over him.
They deserved better than to worry over him.
After all, nothing really mattered.
His health didn’t matter more than theirs did.
His brain didn’t care, so why should they?
He was only acting like this for attention, they were within their right to not give him that attention.
Was he really so self centred that he wanted everything to be about him all the time?
That he wanted to ruin their happiness just for a little bit of attention?
Jeongguk’s fingers clenched around the phone in his hand. His eyes focused on the blank screen. The text message was hidden, but still unsent.
All he knew was he felt numb.
He should just send it.
They’d be mad at him for not telling them he felt bad.
He’d get scolded for it later.
But what if they didn’t care?
What if they laughed it off and told him to stop messing around?
Would that hurt more than the numbness in his chest?
Would it hurt more than the hole absorbing his entire being?
Jeongguk unlocked his phone, focusing his unwilling eyes on the unsent message.
His trembling thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button.
He locked the phone.
He unlocked the phone.
He locked the phone.
He unlocked the phone.
He hit send.
All he knew was he felt numb.
Something filled the hole in his chest as he watched the message send.
Guilt.
‘I need help.’
Jeongguk didn’t know how much time had passed.
It could have been seconds, it could have been hours.
Light streamed into his room as the door cracked open.
A tall figure blocked the light as they slid into the room.
Jeongguk squeezed his eyes closed, ignoring the wet spot on his cheek as he did.
The figure said nothing as they walked over. The movement wasn’t aggressive, or frantic, or worried. It was calm, slow steps, as if they were being careful to not startle the maknae prone on the bed.
Jeongguk felt the blankets move from where they were bunched around him, and a warm body slid into the bed next to him, a firm chest pressed against his back.
An arm hooked under him, another over him, and Jeongguk felt himself slowly, but firmly, being rolled over onto his other side. His shoulder and arm tingled from the blood flow returning, but Jeongguk said nothing.
He was pulled into the figure’s chest, thin fingers carding themselves through the hair on the back of his head.
Jeongguk knew this person’s scent.
He knew the deep, steady breaths as the chest moved against his cheek.
Taehyung had come to him.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to convince Jeongguk that he was being silly, he didn’t try to convince him everything would be okay, he just held him.
His presence was a comfort as Jeongguk buried himself into the accepting chest, and the arms around him tightened.
“I’m here, Jeonggukkie.”
The dam broke. Tears flowed. Hiccupping sobs overflowed the hole the guilt had previously filled.
All he knew was he felt numb.
But he knew it would pass soon.