Work Text:
“Kook, please. Look at me.” Jungkook wouldn’t have lifted his head if it weren’t for the crack in Yoongi’s voice. His eyes were stuck on the puddle under his hand, his fingers twitching against the slippery tile of his bathroom floor.
Red. Everything was painted red.
He pulled his eyes away to look at Yoongi, the older kneeling in front of him. He rested his hands on Jungkook’s knees, a noticeable tremble in his touch.
Red. Yoongi’s eyes were red, bloodshot and wet with tears.
Dropping the cold metal held between his fingers, Jungkook lifted his hand, wiping his fingers under Yoongi’s eye to wipe away a stray tear.
“Hyung, don’t cry.” Hypocritical, as his own tears trailed down his cheeks. He wished he could stop them, that they would finally end, but they continued to fall. He wasn’t even sure what he was crying about anymore, his mind too muddled with thoughts. Weak.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Yoongi murmured, pulling away from Jungkook’s touch to stand up. Jungkook noticed Yoongi’s wool coats and boots, like he hadn’t just come from down the hall.
“Were you going out?” Jungkook asked, his voice raw from crying. He took Yoongi’s outstretched hand and pulled himself up, legs trembling under him.
“I was, but that can wait.” Yoongi patted his free hand on the counter and Jungkook followed the silent request, lifting himself onto the counter with a bit of help from his hyung. Once he was settled on the countertop, Yoongi stepped between his knees. A sickening squelch sounded through the room and Yoongi stepped in the pool of blood on the floor, his soles sticking to the ground.
“Where were you going?” Jungkook asked as Yoongi picked up a washcloth from the pile of skincare on the counter, running it under warm water.
“I was headed to the beach. It’s a nice night,” Yoongi murmured, wringing out the cloth before he turned back to Jungkook. He didn’t grab Jungkook’s arm, didn’t turn it to face him. He waited. Waited for Jungkook to show him.
Holding out his arm, Jungkook could see Yoongi swallow, his lip caught between his teeth. After a moment of staring at the mess, Yoongi gently held Jungkook’s bloodied hand, resting the warm cloth against his arm. It stung and Jungkook couldn’t hold back the sharp breath he took in, his eyes squeezing shut.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispered, carefully wiping the cloth over Jungkook’s skin, exposing more and more wounds that had been hidden under the blood.
With every pull of the cloth, more of the blood was washed away until only the wounds were left, marring Jungkook’s tanned skin.
“How long have you really been doing this?” Yoongi had always known Jungkook lied last time. He said it had only been a few months, but the fading scars on his arm told another story.
“My first time was when I was thirteen.” Jungkook hated talking about it. No matter how much he wanted to scream out for help, he also didn’t want anyone to know. “It wasn’t even on purpose, really. I had broken my mother’s antique mirror, you know those little handheld ones?” Yoongi nodded despite the detail being unimportant. “I was so scared, I knew she was going to be so mad. I just wanted to clean it up and try to act like it never happened, like maybe she wouldn’t notice it was gone.” Jungkook flexed his hand, pain shooting through his arm with the movement. “I was going too fast and I cut my palm on a shard. It hurt, but for a second, it distracted me from how upset I was about the mirror. So I kept that piece in my bedside table for a while and when I was upset, I’d just squeeze it until I felt better.”
“You could have destroyed your hand,” Yoongi murmured, turning Jungkook’s hand around to look at his palm. The scars were barely visible in the lines of his hands, but Jungkook could trace every single one.
“I could have.”
Yoongi rubbed his thumb over Jungkook’s palm, silence filling the air between them until Jungkook realized Yoongi wanted him to continue.
“After a while, I started to notice that I was getting the urge to do it even when I wasn’t upset. I would just suddenly get the urge to do it. I’d keep thinking about it until it was the only thing on my mind. Then once I did it, I was good for a while. It’s like… an addiction.” Yoongi lifted his eyes from Jungkook’s palm to look into his eyes, his thumb still rubbing over Jungkook’s hand. “I’m glad you never started, hyung.”
Yoongi had told him a few times that he’d considered it before, but had never actually started. Jungkook was relieved, as he never wanted Yoongi to go through that pain. The pain of going back to old habits time and time again, no matter how much you want to stop. The horrible thoughts that came with such an addiction.
“Why do you still do it?” Jungkook knew the question had been coming. It was only a matter of time before Yoongi asked. Jungkook had so many chances to stop, yet he continued to feed the urge.
“It helps. I know it doesn’t really, but…” It was so hard to explain, but Yoongi was quiet, waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Jungkook focused on Yoongi’s gentle touch on his hand as he tried to figure out how to word everything. “There’s a few reasons, I guess. It helps me to focus on something that’s not my thoughts, it gives a visual to the pain I’m feeling and sometimes, it just lets me feel something in general.”
Jungkook hated times like those. He hated when he was so emotionally numb that he would do anything to feel something.
“Do you…” Yoongi paused, trying to think over his words. His hand shifted until he could twine his fingers with Jungkook’s, holding his hands properly. “Do you want to die?”
Jungkook was silent for a moment, eyebrows pulled together. That was something he’d asked himself many times before and he always got the same answer.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so,” Jungkook answered truthfully, his grip tightening on Yoongi’s hand. “I think… I think I just want to stop hurting.”
Yoongi nodded, gently tugging on Jungkook’s hands until the younger shifted forward to pull Yoongi into a hug. He rested his forehead on Yoongi’s shoulder, curling his fingers into the olders shirt.
“I want you to stop hurting. I want to help you stop hurting,” Yoongi murmured, carding his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, his body relaxing at the touch. There was a gentle press of lips against Jungkook’s neck as Yoongi pulled him closer. “If you’ll let me.”
Jungkook could only nod. He could already feel tears welling again, his heart warming with Yoongi’s words.
“I don’t want you to think you’re alone anymore. I’m here. Hyung has always been here for you.” Yoongi pulled away the slightest bit and Jungkook lifted his head to meet Yoongi’s gaze. The older gently cupped his face, a soft smile on his lips. “I love you, Kook-ah. You’re not alone, okay?”
I love you. That was all it took before tears began to fall from Jungkook’s eyes. It felt like so long since he’d heard those words.
“Shh, no, Kookie, don’t cry,” Yoongi spoke quickly, panic filling his gaze and he tried to wipe away the tears.
“I’m happy,” Jungkook whispered, curling his fingers into the front of Yoongi’s shirt. “I love you and I’m happy.”
And for the first time in a long time, Jungkook wasn’t lying. He really was happy.