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Stupid and useless. That’s all you are. You can’t even do anything right, can you? It’s all your fault. They lost because of you. You did this. You did.
Stupid
Stupid
Stupid
Stup—
“SHUT UP!” His hand makes contact with the wall, a dull pain spreading from his knuckles up his arm. Pain. He deserves it.
He reaches up and pulls at his hair, tugs at the strands until it hurts.
Hurts. He deserves it.
As he thumps his fist against his head, his eyes make contact with the mirror, with his own reflection. Tears stream down his face, his hair is crumpled in his fist and his face is red.
Tears. He deserves it.
With a choked sob, he tears his gaze away from the mirror before his own eyes can bore into him any longer, his fist striking down at his head again with a dull thump.
He deserves it. He deserves it all. It’s his fault after all. It’s his fault everyone’s upset, his fault they’re disappointed, his fault they lost. Again. Just like last year, and two years before that.
It’s a pattern.
His knuckles strike against his temple.
It’s happened not once, not twice, but three times.
You know why that is? Because you’re a failure. You’re a disappointment and you can’t do anything fucking right. You always mess things up. You messed it up this time just like you’ve done before. You mess it up, you mess everything up. You ruined it.
Look at yourself in the mirror.
Jeongin’s eyes snap to the mirror, to his reflection.
You see that? You see the consequences of what you’ve done? Do you see what you did?
A shaky exhale mixed with a choked sob rips out of his throat.
Soak it in. Soak in your own misery.
Jeongin shakes his head and stumbles back, ripping his eyes away from his reflection.
It’s your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your
Jeongin stumbles onto his bed, planted on his knees, doubled over as his nails dig into his scalp. In the quiet of his room, his stomach rumbles and he’s reminded of how long it’s been since he’s eaten.
Ignore it. You don’t deserve to eat. You don’t deserve anything. Deal with the consequences of what you’ve done. It’s your responsibility now. All of the others are probably in their rooms upset that they didn’t leave that performance with a trophy. Because you ruined it. You’ve ruined the only thing you’re good at. The only thing you’re supposed to do. Your only purpose. Now what?
Jeongin shakes his head, nails flying to his arm as he scratches at his skin. It hurts.
Good. It should hurt. You should be punishing yourself. It’s what you deserve. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it you deserve it’s you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it.
Kill yourself. It’s what you deserve. Kill yourself.
“Jeongin?” A voice followed by two light knocks on his door startles him. “Are you in there? Can I talk to you?”
Jeongin’s still shaking on the bed, one hand twisted in his sheets the other twisted in his hair. His blurry eyes focus on the door, also blurry.
“I’m gonna come in, okay?”
Before Jeongin can get up and wipe his eyes and his nose and somehow make it seem like he wasn’t beating himself up, the door opens and Chan steps in. There’s that worried furrow to his brows, a frown tugged on his face. His eyes meet Jeongin’s and they tighten imperceptibly with concern and worry.
“Hey…” He takes a step closer to the bed. Jeongin stays still, as still as he can be with how he’s shaking.
Push him away. Tell him to leave. You don’t deserve comfort.
Chan clears his throat and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, Jeongin’s fingers twist in his hair.
“Hey, don’t do that,” He reaches up and wraps his fingers around Jeongin’s wrist, the other prying his hair out of his fingers. He takes his hand in his, palm up and Chan’s thumb tracing over his palm lines. “You’re upset because we lost, aren’t you?”
Jeongin nods—or well, his chin jerks in a way that resembles a nod.
“It was my fault,” Jeongin’s voice comes out in a broken whisper, his eyes darting down to the sheets bunched up in between his fingers. He can’t bear to look at Chan and the worry and concern in his eyes, even if he can’t due to how blurry his eyes are by the tears. They slip out of his eyes and down his cheek. “I messed up and I caused us to lose.”
“No…” Chan shakes his head and moves closer, cradling Jeongin’s hand in both of his. “Of course not.”
Don’t listen to him.
“You might’ve messed up a bit, but that doesn’t mean it’s what made us lose,” Chan matches his voice in a whisper, ducking his head to try and catch Jeongin’s eyes. “We all messed up somewhat. But we tried and gave it our all, right? And that’s all that matters, really.”
Jeongin swallows, one tear and then another slipping down his cheeks. Chan lets go of his hand to reach over to grab the box of tissues on Jeongin’s nightstand. He plucks one out and is gentle as he dabs at the tears clinging to Jeongin’s face, as he wipes under his nose. It makes Jeongin want to cry even harder.
“How about we lay back and talk about all the things that went right with our performance and things that we did good on,” Chan smiles reassuringly, lowering his hand down to his own lap. Jeongin misses his touch. “How about that, yeah?”
With a few wet blinks, Jeongin hesitates before leaning forwards and attaching himself to Chan, despite all the alarms blaring in his head. Chan wraps his arms around him and hugs him back in an instant, squeezing him tightly.
They stay like that for a bit before Chan maneuvers them on the bed to lean back against the pillows, one arm still wrapped around Jeongin’s shoulder and the other around his waist, cradling him to his chest. Jeongin’s fingers twist in Chan’s hoodie as his ear presses to his chest, to the sound of his heart beat. And then Chan starts to speak, starts recalling their performance but only the good parts. And Jeongin listens.