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“Hyung, have you seen my—Oh my god, is that blood?” Jeongin freezes in the doorway, his eyes glued to the crimson droplets on the floor. Seungmin shoots up from where he’d been kneeling, looking more than just a little startled by the maknae’s appearance.
“I thought you guys had left—”
“I came back for—actually forget it, that doesn’t matter right now,” Jeongin shakes himself out of his stupor, stepping carefully into the room and gesturing wildly to the floor. “What’s going on? Is that blood?”
“No…?” Seungmin trails off.
“I’m fairly sure that’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question, hyung.” And then Jeongin see’s it, trickling down Seungmin’s leg from beneath his shorts. “You are bleeding! Why are you bleeding? What—”
Jeongin rushes forward, fingers already reaching out to pull up the hem of his shorts when Seungmin knocks his hand away and stumbles backwards. “No! Wait, please—don’t—”
Oh.
There’s a razor blade on the floor where Seungmin must have dropped it. It’s old and rusted, stained red with blood—Seunmgin’s blood, from a self-inflicted wound. Jeongin feels like his heart is about to burst from his chest as he looks at his hyung, truly looks at him, like he’s seeing him for the first time.
There are tear tracks, frozen and dried on Seungmin’s cheeks. His eyes are rimmed red and purple, discolored from stress and crying. His usually tidy hair is overgrown and greasy, caked with product and no longer soft to the touch. There’s something wild in his eyes, untamed and desperate—and there’s also fear. Seungmin looks away quickly, like he’s afraid of Jeongin seeing everything he’s tried so damn hard to hide, but it’s too late.
Jeongin’s seen everything, and more.
“Hyung…” He reaches out a hand again as if to pull him into a hug, and then hesitates. His hand drops back to his side. “I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t know...”
Seungmin sniffles quietly. “I’m fine, Innie. I’m sorry you had to see this, it’s just one of those things—”
“I know what you’re doing,” Jeongin interrupts. “I’m not going to let you push me away. Fine, if you don’t want my help I understand, but you need help. I can call someone else—”
Seunmgin’s head shoots up at that, looking more afraid than the maknae had ever seen him. “No! Please, don’t tell anyone else. Not… not yet. I’m not—I’m not ready.”
“How long…” Jeongin clears his throat and tries again, fiddling with his fingers. “When did this start, hyung?”
It’s inconceivable to him, the idea that Seungmin, of all people, would be hiding so much pain. The vocalist is known for being positive, confident and an overall happy person—or so they thought, or at least Jeongin did.
Seungmin cringes, as if the answer is unfathomable to himself as well. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to confront his own demons. “In highschool. But it comes and goes, I was clean for a while…”
“And now?” Jeongin’s knees give out as he moves to sit on Minho’s bed. “Are you… relapsing?”
“Innie, please,” Seungmin moans, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t—it’s not fair of me, to burden you with this.”
“It’s not a burden—“
“Like hell it isn’t,” Seungmin spits with sudden venom, it surprises Jeongin enough that he jumps. “It’s bad enough you know, you’re looking at me with so much pity—I don’t want it. All you see is this fucked up side of me, it’s not normal and I’m supposed to be your hyung, a role model—“
Jeongin is out of his seat, lightly shoving Seungmin’s chest. “Enough! Don’t say those things, please,” he adds, his voice wobbling. Seungmin’s eyes are blown wide, taken aback. “You are a role model to me! You are not lesser for the ways you’ve tried to kill your sadness.”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s not pity in my eyes—it’s love, you stupid hyung.'' And Jeongin is crying too, because he didn’t mean to explode in Seungmin’s face, and the dried blood on Seungmin’s leg reminds him of how serious this is. If Chan or Minho were here, they’d know the right thing to say—right thing to do. But Jeongin feels useless and emotional, and Seungmin is still fucking bleeding.
Seungmin’s mouth hangs open. He’s frozen, staring at Jeongin like he’s grown horns or sprouted wings. “I sincerely hope that was not a confession.”
“What?” Jeongin shoves him again, but this time it’s playful and he almost cracks a smile through his tears. “Ew, no! You know what I meant. I love you, okay? So stop being sad.”
Seungmin sighs loudly, drying his eyes with the heel of his palm. “I wish it were that easy, Innie. I'm sorry—I made you cry.”
“I'm not crying, it’s just raining.”
“Inside the house?”
Jeongin just shrugs. Silence settles over them and their conversation like a blanket, except it’s stifling and not comfortable at all. He looks down, his gaze finding the crimson drops on the floor again.
“Hyung, wait here please.”
Seungmin doesn’t say anything as he slips out of the room. He gathers what he needs as efficiently as possible, finding the older boy seated on the bed with his knees drawn to his chest. Seungmin eyes the first-aid kit in his hands, already shaking his head.
“Innie, it’s fine. I don’t need—“
Jeongin kneels, flipping the rusted metal lid and digging for what he needs. “Let me do this, please? It’s this or I tell Chan.”
He knows the ultimatum is a bit overboard, but it’s an empty threat and it seems to work. Seungmin is silent as he pops the button on his shorts. The fabric slips down past his boxers and reveals a cluster of red, angry looking gashes across the top of his thigh. Jeongin sucks in a sharp breath—he hates seeing one of his own injured, bleeding.
“This is going to sting,” he warns, ripping open the disinfectant wipe. Seungmin’s hands fist into the bedsheets, knuckles turning white. “Sorry—sorry. Almost done, hyung.” Jeongin reassured him softly, keeping his hands steady and his tone light.
“It’s okay, I deserve it anyways.” Seungmin lets his head fall back to rest against the wall. “I don’t deserve such a good little maknae.”
Jeongin clicks his tongue softly. “You have that backwards.”
“Do not.”
Jeongin looks up at him then, eyebrows raised. “Are you really arguing with me right now, while I tend to your wounds?”
Seungmin looks away, a trace of a smile on his lips. “Thank you, Innie-ah.”
“You’re welcome.” Jeongin smiles then, but it only lasts a second and his face falls. “Hyung, will you let me help you?”
He finishes cleaning and dressing the cuts, moving away to allow Seungmin to tug his shorts back up. “Isn’t that what I’m doing? Letting you help me now?”
“Well yes, but I mean—if you feel this way again,” Jeongin explains, looking down at his hands. “I’d like to be someone you can confide in. Maybe… I could distract you? Prevent things from getting so bad?”
Why does he feel so shy asking for this?
“Innie—“ Seungmin inhales sharply, his tone reprimanding. “It’s not your responsibility to help me, or even worry about me.”
“But I do—I want to help.” Jeongin is surprised when Seungmin takes one of his hands, holding it tightly.
“You help more than you could ever know,” Seungmin admits honestly, “and now you know, so yeah, I guess I could come to you… next time.”
Jeongin lights up, “Really? You promise?”
“Promise,” Seungmin pulls the maknae in for a small hug. “This means a lot to me.”
Jeongin hugs him tightly, unwilling to let go. Their hugs are usually fleeting, maybe a little awkward, but this is necessary for them both right now. Maybe Seungmin isn’t as okay now, but he will be—Jeongin vows this.
They’ll be okay.