He didn't go to college the next morning for evident reason. At least he got an apparent reason for once and there was nothing to stop him from staying on the couch with splitting head and churning stomach. He vomited again the next morning and he just lied there motionless, fingers massaging his own scalp.

Last night the boy had helped him get in the shower on his demand because he smelled of vomit and he couldn't sleep because of it. What started as helping in the shower turned into him getting a blowjob and being shoved towards the bathroom wall as Jimin fucked into him from behind under the hot water. His fingers were clawing at the white tiles, trying to find something to hold and failed miserably while Jimin got his own grip imprinted on his wrist and hips.

It was probably the sex that got him finally too tired to even think and just fell asleep. He woke up to a horrible headache afterwards with Jimin giggling beside him through his agony. The boy was miraculously prone to hangover. He told Jimin to go to school then. The boy declined at first, saying that he wouldn't go to school if Yoongi didn't go to college. He somehow managed to change the boy's mind (after a series of pointless argument and Yoongi being dense and intimidating) because he did go to school after a quick shower and borrowing another one of Yoongi's sweater again, before he finally left Yoongi alone in his living room in peacce. For once he slept easily after the door was closed and Jimin disappeared simply because of his hurting head. He closed his eyes and opened it back again to see the sun already setting.

His stomach grumbled, realizing that he hadn't eaten anything at all. He walked towards the kitchen then, thinking about making another ramyun since Seokjin had thankfully stocked his cabinet again. He felt sick physically and at least it was distraction enough from the horrible thing he'd been seeing. He was half way through cooking when he realized something odd in his kitchen.

He was looking back at the kitchen holder. His knife was missing. Of course one would. He did throw the other knife out, didn't he? Why? Because of the blood. That was right. Because he found it on the couch, hidden and forgotten. Then what about the other one?

The other one.

He darted towards the kitchen sink. He threw his other knife away, sure. Then why were there two knives missing from the holder instead of just one? Where was the other, then? His heart beat louder. Was it Seokjin, who used it yesterday? He checked on the sink only to find it empty, the elder had wiped it all and put the remaining dishes and cutlery back to where it belonged. Maybe he'd misplaced it?

He spent the next five minutes ransacking his whole kitchen, cabinets and even the fridge, the cooked ramyun easily forgotten. His heart was pounding and the fear was back, unexplainable yet lingering, inching its way closer. He was glancing at the couch. Was it there again, then?

His steps towards the couch were hesitant. He simply didn't want to find it there. He didn't even want to find the knife, to be exact, but not finding it was just as scary as not, so in the end he pulled the pillows away and threw it aside, trying to search every inch of the couch. He searched thoroughly, hand going down each corner and came out with nothing. He should be relieved, yet it was the complete opposite. He didn't stop and went to the television's cabinet after that.

He spent almost an hour, ransacking through his living room, papers and books thrown everywhere. Each of his belongings were scattered across the floor and he had left every corner unscathed. His living room was in a state of chaos, as if someone just robbed the place or a hurricane just passed through. His palms were sweating by then before he moved towards the bedroom this time, doing the same thing as he did with the living room.

Every second passed he became more frantic. He pulled the sheet off of his bed, even throwing the mattress aside. His clothes were scattered on the floor, out of the closet and all drawers were pulled open. Still nothing. No hint of knife.

That was when he finally ran towards the bathroom. He ransacked the cabinet by the mirror first, throwing everything behind his back. His toothbrush ended up on the bathroom floor and the soap inside the toilet almost too accidentally. He stumbled towards the shower, hands fumbling through the bottles of empty shampoos he was too lazy to throw away. He was turning around, thinking about going to the other bedroom when his toe hit upon something hard and cold on the floor, lying forgotten.

Yoongi froze. His eyes didn't dart directly towards the object. He did it ever so slowly, scared about whatever he was about to see. Then again he should have known, should have prepared himself for it.

He wasn't surprised to see it yet something inside of him did churn. He was scared again, frightened by a mere sight of a knife. Yet it wasn't just a knife. Of course there would be blood. Of course it would be. The knife would be smeared with dried blood and he wouldn't even remember nor have the knowledge whatsoever about the knife getting there on the first place. He didn't take it and he believed neither of his friends coming over yesterday also did.

He squatted down, taking the knife with hands trembling. It must be Jimin, then. It couldn't be anyone else. It couldn't be his. The boy just took a long bath before he left, didn't he? They spent the entire night together it would be simply impossible for Yoongi not to notice. Even when they were both asleep he would realize Jimin's absence by his side.

His stomach churned again to the thought of Jimin having the knife by his own skin, slicing them apart. It would explain the weird lines he felt on the boy's arm now, wouldn't it?

Before he even let himself think any further Yoongi got up, one hand holding his stomach and the other gripping the knife all too tightly. He ran towards his bedroom, passed the thrown out clothes and straight into the chaotic living room, only to reach for the apartment's door and scrambled towards the garbage shoot. He just threw away the other, he would do the same with this one, right?

He opened the garbage shoot, threw the knife down and heard its metallic clang making the descend. Satisfied with what he'd done, he quickly turned around, facing back the open door of his apartment and walking back inside, heartbeat rapidly decreasing. Why was he so scared about a simple knife? Why did he even have to throw it away? He didn't even know the answer to those, as much as he didn't recognize where that weird feeling of jealousy came from.

He felt as if Jimin had betrayed him, had went with someone else and fooled around with them right under his nose. That was weird considering they were actually nothing. Even weirder when all the boy might actually did was cutting his skin open with the knife. It wasn't like the knife was an embodiment of a person. It was a mere object, for crying out loud. Yoongi rested his back against the door, sighing. He was going crazy. He was losing it. He thought Jimin's arrival would be the end of it. The nightmare and whisper had disappeared. Yet yesterday just happened and-.

Yoongi brought buried his face on his hand when he realized the familiar clattering noise on the floor right next to him. His heart skipped a beat and he froze.

He didn't dare to see it straight away at first, peeking through his fingers, hoping that he heard it wrong. The moment he did his heart wasn't simply skipping a beat. It stopped beating entirely and all breath escaped his body. He couldn't feel his legs and simply fall to the floor. There were no whispers and flashing images but this was indeed a nightmare of its own. He didn't need any hint to prove him otherwise, because right there next to him was the knife, lying on the floor, the one he just found in the bathroom and he wholeheartedly believed just threw down the garbage shoot.

It was as if he didn't get rid of it at all. As if his mind had lied to him, tricking him to believe that he actually did.

At that point in his life he couldn't believe in anything anymore. Not even himself. It wasn't the whispers, nightmares or even Jungkook's stare that he was scared off.

At that point in his life he was scared at himself.

.

He was back into feeling nothing, a hollow shell that sat in front of his television. He was back to hiding behind the door of his room, shutting his eyes and covering his ear closed because the telephone wouldn't stop ringing. He was back into those days before Jimin ever set foot in front of his car.

He was holding the bloody knife on his right hand. He had tried to throw it away. Again. But no matter what he did, even as he had waited until he heard the clattering sound down the garbage shoot and saw the knife disappearing into the darkness, he would walk back towards his apartment, slammed the door shut and looked down to his hand, only to find it still in his grip. He would turn around again and repeated the action but nothing had seemed to change.

He tried to open the window of his apartment, trying to throw it from his thirty-something floor of a building, feeling the cold wind of Seoul hitting his face from such height and watched as the knife turned into a little dot too small for his eyes to follow. Maybe someone would find a knife suddenly raining down on him, falling from the sky. Yet when he closed the window and sat on the couch, he would find the knife still tight around his grip.

Then the phone started ringing.

The television started blaring.

The wall started moving.

His head started pounding.

His left wrist started itching.

And then nothing. Everything stopped. Everything went quiet. Nothing but the soft knocks upon the door and the familiar voice calling out his name.

When he opened the door it was Jimin who greeted him with a wide smile like always, saying that he was home. His mind always stopped raging whenever Jimin was around. No wonder they suddenly stopped swarming. His remedy was standing by the door.

His first instinct was to touch the boy's neck with his finger, pulling him closer. Because this was what he always did, right? This was what they always do. He would be fine after this. He would be perfectly-,

"What are you holding there, hyung?" Jimin suddenly said, holding his shoulder and practically stopping Yoongi from crashing their lips together.

His eyes darted towards the knife on his grip. Right. It was stuck to his finger with some sort of invicible super glue, wasn't it? Jimin grabbed the knife and pried it off of his hand. Funny. Why could Jimin take it so easily when all he did for the last couple of hours was throwing it away only to find it still around his fingers?

"Hyung! There was blood on this knife. What did you do?" Jimin said, closing the door and guided Yoongi inside.

He quickly pulled on Yoongi's hand, yanking the long sweater, exposing his arm. He looked down only to find pale skin, nothing more. That red angry scar was still there, a red vertical line upon his white skin. It had always been bleeding and the wound would probably never heal anyway, thanks to Jimin who keep digging his nails upon it.

"You're doing something bad, aren't you hyung?" the boy said, eyes looking at him, seemingly concerned.

Somehow he was mad. Hearing that made him angry inside. How dare he say that? It was Jimin who did, it was the boy who held the knife. It was Jimin's blood that painted the knife. Did he just pretend like he didn't know anything, blaming it to Yoongi instead afterwards?

He pulled his arms away from Jimin's touch, his eyes looking at the latter begrudgingly. "What the fuck, Jimin?"

"What?" the boy looked confused, his hand that seconds ago were encircling Yoongi's wrist hung absently on the air.

"I said 'what the fuck', Jimin. I found the knife in the bathroom, okay? And it wasn't even the first I've found!" Why was he even screaming right now, his own voice growing louder and louder. Why did bubbles start to burst in his chest or at least that was what he felt. There was a part of him that felt betrayed, remembering Jimin's broken promise. Another felt like he was being cheated on. So the knife was an even better companion than himself now?

"There was another one yesterday on the couch, exactly like this, with blood on it!" Yoongi said, pointing at the knife on Jimin's hand. He didn't know why he was being this angry.

"What are you trying to say, hyung?"

And he didn't know why Jimin was being so stubborn. He was toying with him now, wasn't he? He was pretending like he didn't know anything about it, like a kid who wouldn't even acknowledge that he had wet his pants in his sleep and hid the sheet somewhere else. He was being childish and Yoongi was simply furious. He was mad. Everything was driving him crazy and he didn't even need to find a reason why he was even mad in the first place.

"Stop acting like you're innocent Jimin. I know what you did," he hissed.

"But I didn't do anything!" Jimin answered, tone slightly raised.

"Oh right, of course you don't," he smiled mockingly. "You're just a liar."

"I'm a what?" the boy said, looking offended.

"Don't play dumb, Jimin. Come on. I know you did this," he said, taking out the knife in the air, pointing out how obvious and apparent it was for Jimin's eyes to see.

"Did what, hyung?" he answered, looking just as mad as Yoongi was from his accusation.

"Oh please. Things are hard back at home, your mother and father didn't want you, you felt alone, all things crashing down and cutting seemed to be a nice fun way to spend your night with instead of the usual video games like normal boys. You came here and said that you wouldn't even do it again. But somehow that's still not enough, isn't it? There's still this-, gnawing feeling in your chest that wouldn't simply go away. And you just have to do it again. You have to cut, and cut, and cut again, simply so you could forget about it all and breath. Is that it, Jimin?"

Jimin was staring at him. Glaring, even. For the first time he was looking at Yoongi like he was mad and offended. The voice in his head told him how he had gone overboard, how his words were too much. Yet he was mad and every logical explanation would only ricochet against his ego. He was mocking Jimin. He wasn't even helping when that was actually all that he should be doing. He was simply being mean, doing what his parents had done to him at that time.

"I didn't do anything, hyung," he returned, tone low and every bit of serious. Gone was the smile and cheerful tone that Jimin always brought.

"Right. Of course you didn't," he mocked again with a smile. "Cutting your hand with a kitchen knife, of course you didn't."

"I'm not the one who do it!" he screamed.

"Then what? I'm the one who did? What do you think? I'm just going to take the kitchen knife, cut my own skin with it and forget that I've ever did? Or no, better yet, it just miraculously appeared on the couch with someone's blood on it?"

"Well maybe you're the one who's denying it right now, hyung."

Yoongi threw the knife towards the other end of the room at that point, hitting the wall with a thud before it bounced back and fell towards the floor. He was furious, voice screaming and Jimin did get startled upon that action, jumping a little from his stance, fear flashing through his eyes. Yoongi got his jaw clenched and his fist tightened. People feared him for a reason. He wasn't really the nicest person to be around with when he was in a bad mood. Now he was angry and no one would even want to witness that.

"You broke your promise, Jimin," he said, finger raised, pointing towards Jimin accusingly. This wasn't the way to handle someone with a self-harm issue. Accusing and cornering the person would be the least of a solution. "You said that you won't do it again."

That was another reason why he was angry and at least this one was acceptable enough. The boy did say it and Yoongi could never be wrong.

Jimin looked at him dead in the eye and it somehow felt as if he was seeing his own eyes instead. Both of them were mad. Both of them were furious. Both of them raising their voices.

"I'm the one who broke it?" he said slowly. "You're the one who did."

And he snapped. He snapped so hard he felt his eyes widen. Because Jimin just denied it again. He wasn't just denying, he was accusing him back right now as well. He wouldn't accept that, surely, when everything in this world was already pointing at Jimin yet he was just too stupid and too dense to even realize it. He gritted his teeth as he took a step forward towards Jimin and pulled the boy's arm rather harshly, this time being the one yanking the boy's sleeve up, exposing his skin whilst gripping the boy's wrist in a bruising grip.

And of course he was right. Yoongi was absolutely damn right. It didn't satisfy him. It made his heart sank instead because he realized Jimin was indeed lying. And it was Jimin, the boy who was not just anybody to him now. He yanked the boy's left arm first before going to the right and he could see it now, horrible angry scars crisscrossing his hands like figure skaters. Knife had been etched on his skin multiple time, some deep and angry-looking, another just a lazy line across his skin. His left arm was the worst, with a vertical line mimicking Yoongi, being the deepest and ugliest. It stood out the most on the boy's skin. It was just the wrist. Who knew what the boy could hide under the long sweater he'd been using. His arms? His legs? His thighs?

"What is these, then?" he said, gripping the boy's wrist tightly, turning them so Jimin could see the masterpiece he'd done upon himself.

So all this time he was sitting under the shower of his bathroom, slicing his own wrist when Yoongi wasn't even looking? Did he wake up after their quick session of love making on the couch only to take the kitchen knife and sliced his own skin open because Yoongi wasn't simply enough? Jimin had promised him yet he broke that same promise right under his own nose. He was mad and slightly disappointed at the same time. He was angry and feeling betrayed.

"What do you mean?" Jimin said, looking down at his own scarred arm and turned his head back towards Yoongi with confused eyes.

That fire inside of him went burning again. Did Jimin really need to deny him that much? That was indeed too much. He had pointed it out right in front of him, both the bloody knife and the undeniable scars. How could he still pretend that he didn't do it when everything was so apparent in front of his eyes?

"Don't even try to deny it, Jimin," he said again, tone low and rather threteaning, gripping the boy's wrist harder.

It was there, all along. It was there in front of their eyes. How could even one be so blind to it, then? If Jimin was denying everything, then he was doing a really god job at it. It felt so wrong.

Jimin looked at his own wrist before gazing back towards Yoongi, confusion painted clearly against his face.

"I don't see anything, hyung."

It should have made him angrier, should have got him yelling even harder. He wanted to at first, going as far as digging his own nails against the horrible scars if needed, the one that was still red and slightly bleeding, only to show Jimin and let the boy felt the pain, reminding him that it was there right in front of his eyes. He wanted to go to such extent, only to prove his point. Yet as he looked deeper into Jimin's eyes, he somehow realized that the boy wasn't lying.

"I don't cut my own skin," he said again, eerily convincing.

He was angry, sad and disappointed. Now he started to feel afraid again, simply being scared upon the realization that maybe-, just maybe, Jimin was indeed telling the truth.

"There's no scars."

And Jimin's words had somehow felt like the broken telephone ringing again.

Yoongi let go of Jimin's wrist. The boy was being genuine. That or he was one hell of a good liar. He was certain that Jimin was lying, convincing himself and Yoongi that he hadn't really used the knife for cutting. He wasn't so sure anymore and he somehow thought that maybe he was the one being insane, that maybe he was the one imagining the scars on Jimin's arm or the knives that he found although the angry-looking lines upon the white skin couldn't even be more prominent than it already was right now in front of his eyes.

It wasn't the whispers, nightmares or even Jungkook's stare that he was scared off.

At that point in his life he was scared at himself.

He quickly yanked the hem of his sweater again, this time exposing his own wrist just as the boy had done mintues ago. His arm was exactly the way he remembered it, the only one painting them was the red upon his left wrist that mimicked the boy's almost too precisely.

"Hyung, are you all right?"

He looked back towards Jimin's arm. Right now in front of his eyes it was the boy's that was decorated with lines, red and bleeding. He didn't even have any past recollection of holding the knife upon his finding. But then again maybe he once did and he simply didn't remember it-, just like the blackouts, just like the nightmares. Maybe instead of Jimin it was him all along.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'm-,"

He couldn't finish the sentence.

As simple as that it was back to being a lie.

.

Yoongi ran away. He didn't even finish his sentence or rather, he couldn't even find the strength to.He went towards the door and didn't even hit the elevator button, instead going to the emergency exit and went down several floors until he decided to take the elevator instead when his legs started to give in. Jimin was calling out his name, was running for him yet he didn't want to be followed. He needed to get out, to walk out of his apartment. Funny. Everytime he had a problem he would have locked himself in earlier, waiting for Jimin's arrival. Right now he did the exact opposite because being in front of the boy turned out to be a torture instead.

He needed to get away, to look at something else instead of the scars, to look at something he could believe in. Maybe then when he returned back to his apartment with Jimin greeting him, he wouldn't see the red scars against the boy's skin anymore. He would then realize that his accusation was nothing but a hallucination and he could at least go back to the way it was before, blaming everything to horrible hangover or food poisoning went terribly wrong.

He wanted to get back to that last couple of days, when he hadn't found the knife, when all he needed to do was look at Jimin and realized that he was going to be all right.

He reached the basement and got on his BMW, driving out of the apartment without even thinking where to. His mind was raging. He was scared at himself. Everything could be a lie. Everything could be a nightmare. Maybe he wasn't even behind his steering wheel right now. Maybe he was sleeping on the couch instead. Maybe all he needed to do was to kill himself, driving his car off the Banpo Bridge in this dream and woke up to a reality, finding himself on his couch, sleeping with Jimin beside him.

His mind was desperately searching for a sign, something that would convince him that he wasn't insane. Something that was real. Something that understood him.

That simple thought was probably the only explanation to why he stopped his car in front of Seokjin's apartment in Yongsan. That simple thought was the one getting him knocking frantically on Seokjin's door. It took him banging on the door, screaming out Seokjin's name to get the elder finally opening it, eyes looking tired and hair disheveled as if he just woken up from a deep slumber.

"Yoongi, what are you doing here at three in the morning?" Seokjin said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his palm.

Was it three in the morning already? He didn't even realize it.

"I-I- just need-."

What did he need? He needed to see his friend? This was indeed the best time for Seokjin to prove that he was Yoongi's friend, then. He didn't know what exactly he need. He didn't even have the exact reason of standing there in front of Seokjin's door.

"What happened, Yoongi? You looked awful," the elder said, stepping forward, finally focusing on Yoongi and realizing something was indeed off from the slight tremble of his fingers or the wavering look that his eyes gave. No, it was closer to being hollow instead, looking at the vast emptiness that stretched in front of him.

"C-can I stay for a while, hyung?" he said, voice trembling, finally focusing his eyes on Seokjin.

Seokjin was looking at him with that look of his, the one that Yoongi absolutely abhorred, yet Seokjin was his only salvation right now and he could easily overlook that fact.

"Of course, Yoongi. Come inside," he said, guiding Yoongi inside.

Seokjin should be living with his roommate, Hyosang, but the other was out of town for something, Seokjin told, and he could use the other's vacant bedroom in the mean time. He did come at a convenient time, he said. Yoongi just nodded, though thinking that three in the morning wasn't really convenient for any living person. Time had certainly proved to be worthless for him. He didn't really feel sleepy. It seemed like he wouldn't be able to sleep again, just having his eyes wide open like usual.

The elder made some tea for Yoongi before he finally got the younger sitting on Hyosang's empty bed, eyes still looking confused. Seokjin sat beside him, letting him drink some chamomile or something while patting his own back and he oddly felt like a child. Seokjin did feel like a mother like his own would ever be, if only she invested her time more to loving her only son instead of the money she earned upon series of thoroughly detailed gamble and planned investion.

"Yoongi, is there something wrong?" Seokjin asked.

There was. There was the telephone, the television, the knives, the nightmares, the scars on Jimin. There was lots of thing that were wrong. But he couldn't tell Seokjin about it all, could he? He didn't even tell Jimin about everything. How could he even tell Seokjin all of those?

"Is there something you need?" the elder asked again when Yoongi still hadn't answered.

He needed something he could believe in. He didn't even know what, didn't even know whether Seokjin had it or maybe Seokjin was indeed that thing. He thought that it was Jimin. It should be Jimin.

"I-i- don't know i-," Yoongi gulped, trying to find words that didn't make him too much of a lunatic even to his own ear. "-just need to stay for a while," he finally settled with that.

He needed to straighten his mind. He needed to get off Jimin. Just for one night, he thought. Just for one and when he returned everything would return back to normal.

"All right," Seokjin said, patting his back again.

He used to hate Seokjin's kindness. The elder was simply too kind for him, too nagging and his attention was just too endearing. Yet now he took all of it, all of Seokjin's kindness and warmth. He realized he was the one being a dick, the one that didn't really cherish their friendship. It wasn't just mere cooking nor doing favors. It was more than simple chores getting done or borrowed notebooks in tedious lectures.

Seokjin stood up slowly and walked towards the door.

Yoongi knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Even when he did fall asleep all by himself, he would be woken up by a nightmare. Everything bad always happened when he fell asleep alone and woken up to that absence of warmth beside him. He could sleep for the last couple of days because there was Jimin beside of him. And now-,

Seokjin stopped on his track right beside the door, turning around slowly for the last time before giving Yoongi a smile. "Do you want me to stay?" Seokjin asked right beside the opened door.

His worries were being apparent across his face, it seemed, or everybody in this world had suddenly developed the ability to read him like Jimin too easily could. Then again it was Kim Seokjin who was always so kind, always so caring. The Kim Seokjin that he pushed aside rather harshly.

Seokjin was trying to fix him that time and he simply wouldn't let him. Maybe now, then. Maybe now he would give him a chance.

"Yeah," he said back. "That's all right."

Yoongi was being childish. He was being everything that he was not. Then again lately he didn't even know who Min Yoongi was anymore.

He got pulled his feet up on the bed, feeling the cushion too soft and entirely foreign for him. Just for a night, he thought. He would fall asleep and maybe everything was going to be better tomorrow. He curled himself up like a ball, facing the wall at the side of the bed as Seokjin flicked the light off. He actually didn't really care whether the elder ended up sitting beside the bed until he fell asleep or stayed next to him, but Seokjin opted on the latter, getting on the bed and lied next to Yoongi.

Weeks ago he wouldn't even do this, refusing another person's existence without a second thought as he fell into a deep slumber. And here he was, being a grown man and still needed someone else's warmth beside him at night to keep him sane.

Seokjin wasn't like Jimin. For once he was much taller and Jimin was much much warmer. The elder didn't hug him like Jimin, but he was there, his long fingers brushing his back ever so slightly, being his own subtle way to say that he was there and he wasn't going to leave him. And yes, he realized that he needed that a lot.

"Don't leave," he muttered softly.

That brush turned into a nudge and Seokjin kept his hand there against his back. It wasn't a hug, wasn't even legs intertwining. It was just a soft touch of a finger and it was everything that Yoongi needed in the moment.

(And maybe, just maybe, he didn't need Jimin for that one single night)