It's just Medicine (Special)

AN: Hi! Wanted to let you Smokers know that I'm changing the usual structure of this chapter or maybe the next chapter too. I am not sure. So, the first part of this chapter is from Namjoon's perspective and then, at some point, I will let you know when Jungkook's perspective starts.

Enjoy:

'Fuck.' I thought.

The sirens kept getting louder.

"Stay down, darn it..." He warned.

Nearer.

'Fuck!'

The red lights went through the window and painted my face. Flashing on and off.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck....'

"We need to run through the back."

"I'll fucking kill you..." I mumbled.

And when a high smile stretched his face, I punched him straight in the nose.

Blood oozed out as well as swear words that got drowned out by the sirens.

I crouched and hurried towards the back door, leaving him behind.

"Wait...help me!"

'Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck this...'

I pulled open the dirty screen and pushed the handle down. As I was walking down the metal stairs, I spotted him like one could spot an animal in the middle of the highway.

His back was turned just enough for me to read the word police written on the uniform.

'FUCK!'

"HELP! NO! LET ME...!"

The officer turned at the sound of the junkie yelling.

Our eyes locked for just a second before I darted.

There were no more thoughts. There were no emotions.

One foot in front of the other. One breath after another.

I ran without looking back.

Hearing his shoes hitting the puddles after I've hit them.

After I was several blocks away, I could still hear the sirens in the distance and then, the gunshots.

'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'

I took a turn to the left. Another to the right.

And the man was still on my tail.

So close that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

The hood fell off my head.

And the backpack felt like a dead weight, but also, like the piece of evidence that could make or break me.

I kept running.

Under the dark sky.

And running.

By the tall, gray, wet buildings.

Running.

Until it was quiet.

And my elated breathing was the only sound there was.

I collapsed to the ground on my back.

And closed my eyes.

Woke up to the sound of the policeman's panting.

Looking down at me.

Saying: "Put your hands up."

I smiled.

Although I had no reason to.

I didn't even feel any joy.

But the fact that this man followed me into a dark alley with nothing but dumpsters, syringes, and stray cats was as good as it got for me right now.

I did put my hands up, but I did not get up. Even though the gun was still pointed at me.

"Stop playing games. You're under arrest."

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled.

And stood up.

Allowed him to turn me around and cuff one hand.

While I reached in my pocket with the other.

He was reaching for the other hand when I turned and stabbed him right in the throat.

Watched the gun fall.

Watched with no emotion as despair riddled his face.

The forty-something-year-old man fell backward like a log and started choking on his own blood.

I pulled out the knife and stabbed him in the chest next.

In the head.

In the heart.

In the stomach.

And when his body stopped twitching.

He took one last gasp.

Cap was fallen beside his head.

He did stop breathing, but his blood didn't stop flowing. The uniform was getting redder and redder.

"Fuck." I told no one in particular.

And pulled out my phone.

Turned it on and called Arthur as if I had a plan. As if I expected any of this.

As if I knew what else to say to him besides "Come fetch. It's time to work."

"Fred's boy? Is that, you?"

"Did you not hear me? Come now."

"...come where?"

It took a while for them to arrive. I spent that time laying on the wet ground by the man I'd just killed. And I wanted to blame myself, but I mostly blamed the fact that our jobs intersected. He was only doing his while I was doing mine. Because society wouldn't let that man medicate himself because he couldn't bear himself and others. No one trusted the judgment of a junkie. Although we're all coping with being here in our own way. His way was seen as a crime so the dead man's job was to stop it and lock him up because they didn't want to help him. Or didn't know how to.

And I... I was just the middleman.

No strings attached.

Besides money.

I have to give Arthur the money.

I have to pay them all now.

For the acid to melt his flesh and bones.

For the cleaners that are scrubbing his blood off the pavement.

For the ghosts of the damned to wipe my tracks from the junkie's house.

For me to continue to stay safe.

Then there was the paranoia.

And the hope that no one else has seen me.

Before I got there. After I started running. During the run. During the stabbing.

Hope that when I got back to Jungkook, I wouldn't be shaking.

Cause I wasn't scared to go to jail.

But I scared myself because I did not have the intention to kill the man.

And when I did, out of habit, I did not feel a single thing.

I was actually impatient for him to stop breathing.

And that shook something in my core.

When they arrived, I was still on the ground. Pointing at the corpse before me.

They did their work out of habit. As if they didn't have to think twice about any movement. Like they never stopped doing it after Fred's death.

And then one of them had the nerve to ask me: "Are you our new boss now?"

"I'll pay you as soon as I can and that's it. Go back to washing dishes."

"I work in a restaurant." He pointed out, insulted.

"So how far off was I with the dishes?" I bit back; in a monotone voice that I couldn't control.

I wanted to sound grateful, but all that came out of my mouth was vile.

"Namjoon..." Arthur said, pointing at the pool of blood that was bubbling up with soap suds.

"Stop saying my name!" I yelled.

"I apologize." He quickly backed away.

I got up and stretched out my left hand.

Pointing the knife at him, saying: "Take this cuff off my fucking hand Arthur."

"Right away."

It was a submissive answer. One that Fred would've usually received.

But it felt good to hear it.

It felt good to see them move because I wanted them to.

It felt good...to be helped.

In any way.

In the worst way.

In the only way, I could be helped.

Erased.

Protected.

Empty.

Traceless.

After I left the scene, Jungkook finally got through because I turned the phone back on. I answered his call while I was looking at my shadow looming over the wet pavement as I marched forwards. One foot in front of the other.

"Namjoon?! Where are you?" My boyfriend asked, sounding overly dramatic.

"Near."

"It's been two days..."

"I said that I am near."

"How near?"

"Why are you up anyway? It's two AM."

"...I was worried..."

"How so?"

I knocked on the door of our new apartment.

V, the person that opened the door, looked high. Smelling like weed.

And Jungkook who was on the couch with the phone at his ear looked and smelt no different.

The phone was still plastered against my ear yet I asked with bitterness:

"Worried, were you?"

He nodded.

I turned off the call and walked straight into the bathroom while V got nothing to say besides: "Did something happen?"

I took a shower to get off the sweat. I took another shower to scrub every inch of my skin until it was red. I took a third shower, hoping I'd feel clean after it.

But when I got out of the bathroom with the two of them staring at me with eyes as big as saucers, I still felt dirty.

And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why.

"I've made pasta..." V let me know and Jungkook shoved V away by pushing him against the shoulder. The taller one bounced away and back into Jungkook's shoulder with a grin.

I arched an eyebrow and headed toward the bedroom.

I heard him getting up and following me.

Also, him, saying:

"Where were you?"

I got into the bedroom and slammed the door in his face.

He opened it and then closed it after himself slowly.

"Namjoon..."

"Be quiet."

"Please...talk to me."

"I don't feel like talking."

"You're the one who said talking makes everything seem..."

"I said I don't feel like talking!"

He swallowed. And if he was able to look at me before, he wasn't now.

"But...it's been two days and I..." His voice trembled.

It made me angrier. The more submissive and afraid he looked, the more rage built inside me and poured out without my consent.

"Didn't you hear me? I said that I don't want to talk!"

"...why not?"

"Because I don't! Now go back to wasting your life. Go."

I wiped my wet hair that was stained with blue hair dye, watching him leave.

When the silence of the room swallowed me whole, I almost regretted kicking him out.

And then I heard V laughing and the wall in front of me turned red for a second.

'No. Calm down. It was just bad luck...nothing happened. No one's coming after me. Nothing's wrong. Nothing that can't be fixed. There are Fred's people in jail too. I can use them if it'll come to it. I'll be fine. As long as no one knows I'm the one who killed Fred...no, if they do...ah....no, calm down. They didn't see me. Only that cop saw me and he's dead. Yeah. One witness. Now there's no witness. No witness. No-fault. No mistake. No jail. No change...'

"Stop it, Tae! It tickles."

'No progress. No difference. No change...ah, I should kill Arthur just to be safe.'

'Fuck.'

"Jungkook! COME HERE!"

'Why am I yelling?'

The other room went dead silent.

Jungkook walked in staring at the floor the whole time.

"Go to bed," I told him simply.

"But I just woke up."

"Go to bed."

"But I am not..."

"Go to bed!"

V walked in while I was spitting in Jungkook's face. Making a vein in my neck pulsate.

"There, there...you don't have to act like this just because you had a bad day that you refuse to complain about."

"Did I ever ask for your opinion on how I should act ever since we met?"

"I am just saying, you're scaring us and we did nothing wrong. Did we?"

He and Jungkook locked eyes for a moment. It ended with V grinning and Jungkook looking down with guilt.

Guilt.

I tilted my head to the left and asked: "Did you?"

All anger was gone.

Something else replaced it.

Something I couldn't pinpoint.

But it was looming behind me like a shadow, swallowing up my own.

"No," Jungkook said quickly with a dry neck.

"V, get out," I repeated.

The man shrugged and left the room.

"Jungkook, lock the door."

A nod. Small steps. A turning of the key and a click.

His back still facing me, fingers on the door, I asked again: "What did you do?"

"Nothing..."

'Don't lie to me.' Is what I wanted to say.

What I would've said.

But when he turned with a nervous smile and repeated the word nothing, trying his best to sound convincing, I let it slide.

Not because I believed it wasn't worth hearing about.

Not because I didn't feel like he wasn't worth being punished for whatever he did.

But because for once, I didn't care enough.

I felt that for a split second, I gave up on him not doing something bad to himself.

Ever since I've known him, I kept trying to prevent it.

Anything. Everything.

And it was like trying to stop water from flowing.

But this new feeling in my chest didn't hurt.

It was peaceful. Content.

And expecting nothing good.

"Go to bed."

He did.

Despite having said that he wasn't tired, he closed his eyes.

And I looked down at him.

Not speaking.

Not moving.

Not waiting for him to notice.

I just looked at his small face.

Like the cop has looked at mine.

Tarred lips.

Messy hair.

Frail neck.

Skinny arms, elongated on the blue blankets.

Doe-like eyes opened wide, taken aback at the sight of my unblinking ones.

"You're not going to sleep?" He asked me.

I was exhausted beyond belief, yet, what came out of my mouth was: "No."

Right before I turned around and walked out of the bedroom. And locked him in.

V kept eating his cereal, paying me no mind.

I searched inside the fridge bombarded by the sounds of characters spewing nonsense spells.

But whether it was chocolate, spaghetti, meat, or fruit, I couldn't muster up the appetite to have any of it.

It's been a long time since I've felt this nauseous.

And I couldn't tell the reason why no matter how much I stared at the fridge.

"How was your day?" That was what he asked when I sat down beside him.

Not feeling his presence.

But like I was all alone and he just didn't know it.

"Good." That was all I said.

"Don't want to tell me? Got it."

"It was good."

"How good?"

"Really good."

"How come?"

"Good. All's good."

"Sounds like denial to me."

"Get out."

"Umm...I pay to live here."

"Then shut up."

He turned the volume up, but the words of the animated people got drowned out.

There were no thoughts inside my head.

And yet the silence of it was overwhelming.

So loud.

Like the loudest static on the biggest screen.

I could barely bear it.

Minutes passed. Episodes passed.

And the thoughts I was unable to hear kept spinning in my head.

Somewhere buried.

Somewhere far.

Somewhere red and black.

"Did you get caught?"

I turned my head from the laptop that was placed on top of a chair to him, calmly.

He kept chewing his cereal. Milk in the spoon hanging midair close to his face as he stared at my face.

"No. I didn't."

"That's good."

"Yeah. That's good."

"In the mood for a movie?"

"Sure."

If V would've asked me what we were watching twenty minutes or one hour in, I wouldn't know what to tell him.

But there was one thing that he could tell me. That could distract me.

"What did Jungkook do?"

The tall man swiftly turned his head while I kept staring ahead.

His lips parted and closed, reflecting perfectly in the darkness of the cave that was on the laptop screen.

"The usual."

He resumed watching.

But the air felt heavier. Like unsettled dust was everywhere.

"What's the usual?"

"You know, weed."

"And?"

"Weed. A lot of it."

"And?"

"That's it, man. Will you just..."

I wanted to hurt him. I had no reason to, or not to.

I could feel that something had changed.

But I couldn't tell if it was them or I who had changed.

If Jungkook has been lost for a while and I thought I was exempt from it, yet today, I've realized that was wrong.

He went on: "Relax a little? Have some too? I mean, there's no harm in a bit of..."

I looked at him. Dead in the eyes and said: "I'll go back in that bedroom and I'll make him tell me. And you know he will. You know it, I know it. But if he tells me anything besides weed got inside his system which means you've lied to me, well..."

I smirked, saying: "It'll be bad for you."

To my surprise, V didn't look scared. He blinked rapidly, stretching his arms until he was hugging the back of the couch, an empty bowl in his lap.

"You're ruling this relationship with an iron fist? What are you, fucking Hitler?"

"V..."

"No, listen to me for once. What the hell are you doing? How long do you think it will last huh? How long until he sees you for the abusing, controlling freak that you are?"

"He knows me already."

"And is he happy?"

"..."

"Is he?"

"Nothing makes him happy," I said darkly. Quietly.

And in the silence that followed, and the song that came from the anime, V said:

"He laughed today. And joked. With me."

I joined my hands in my lap and lowered my head.

"And? You want a medal or something?"

"He's capable of joy."

"He was high," I argued.

"He's never high around you?"

"He is, but..."

"If I were you, I'd act a bit nicer."

The corners of my lips stretched without me noticing.

And my eyes wouldn't blink as his words went through one ear and out the other but made damage either way,

"Are you threatening me?"

"My god! You're stupid. Screw the grades. In the school of life, you got zero points."

"Why are you telling me he had a good time with you? What are you trying to achieve with that?"

"Didn't you hear me? If you would treat him differently then he'd act differently."

We locked eyes.

"And when did I say that I want him to change the way he acts?"

"Oh, so you like how he cowers around you. Speaks like he has a rock in his throat. All the shaking and hiding, you're fine with it?"

I looked away.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

I wanted to get up, but couldn't find the energy to do so.

"Rough sex may be his thing. But that doesn't mean you should be rough all day long, you know?"

"You think I want to yell at him? You think I enjoy it?"

"Yes. I do."

The confident statement drowned me for a moment in which I couldn't tell if I enjoyed it either.

"He made me like this," I concluded.

V chuckled, saying: "I seriously doubt it."

"He's the one who's doing everything wrong...he's the one who's running our lives and I'm the one who enabled him. That being said, I don't want him to ruin the rest of our lives. So, I'm..." I sighed.

"You're policing him into what? Sleeping at a normal hour? As if that'll cure his addiction?"

"No, I'm...I... I don't know what the fuck I am doing." I whispered.

And the anime girl started crying.

V patted my shoulder.

"None of us do, Namjoon. But if we don't stick together, then we're in bigger trouble than we already are."

"Stick together, you say..." I mumbled.

"Let him stay up. Let him have fun. Have some fun with him. Or else..."

"Or else...what?"

"He'll run from you." He finished, leaning back.

"Did he say that?" I quickly asked. "He said he wants to run from me?"

"He didn't say it, but...he didn't check the phone every five minutes while you were gone. So, I'm guessing, he was worried, but also enjoyed the freedom."

"He's free with me here too. He can do whatever..."

V cut me off: "You've locked him in the bedroom and forced him to sleep the second you came home. How free is that?"

I rubbed my eyes and leaned back.

"I know you're right. But I just…can't stop. I want him to change for the better and I keep getting worse too…I don't know. I don't fucking know what we're doing."

"What do you mean? We've all quit uni. We've all run away from our parents. Well, the two of us did, you… got a free pass already. And now we're dealers. Free to use and be used. So, get a grip, dance in your pajamas, join an orgy…"

I arched an eyebrow. He continued: "Live a little, you grandpa. Have some fun. It won't kill you."

"But we're out of control."

"Who needs it? Control what? We need some money and a place to sleep and we already got that. What else do you need?"

I looked up at the ceiling.

'What else do I need?'

And no answer came.

So, I smiled.

'Fine.'

Patted V on the head and walked into Jungkook's and I's bedroom.

Slid under the covers, next to Jungkook, and caressed his face.

He opened his eyes, confused. But clearly awake.

"Hi," I whispered.

"Hi?"

"How are you?"

"I'm…good. How are you?"

"A bit tired."

"Do you want to go to sleep?"

"Not necessarily."

"Then…what do you want to do?"

"Fun. Let's have some fun." I heard myself saying with half-lidded eyes.

Two hours later we were throwing back shots at a nearby bar.

Nodding my head to the drums.

Jungkook was laughing at whatever V was pointing at.

I was going in and out of consciousness. Mostly because of the lack of sleep, rather than the alcohol.

"Namjoon! Namjoon?!"

"What do you want, square face?"

"He called you a square face." Jungkook let a surprised V know, chuckling and hitting his thighs with his right hand.

V pointed again, and this time I followed his finger and found a short-skirted blond girl who was waiting for her cocktail to be ready.

"What about her?" I asked, mildly interested.

"I am going to get her number."

"V…don't."

A drunk Kim Taehyung walked over to a tall, slim-fit, long-haired, blue-eyed woman and whispered something in her ear.

She laughed.

Jungkook laughed too.

I smirked, stating the obvious:

"She's out of his league."

"It doesn't matter," Jungkook said, slapping away the air and my fact.

"How does it not?"

"No one comes to a club looking like that, ordering drinks with the expectation to get a serious relationship out of it."

"And you?" I asked, facing him by rotating a little on the small chair.

"What about me?"

"Are you serious?"

Jungkook tilted his head.

"About?"

"Me. Are you serious about us?"

"Of course I am." He spat out, swaying to one side.

"Really?" I insisted, grinning. Taking a sip of room-temperature tequila.

"You've been a bit mean lately…"

"And you haven't?" I attacked quickly.

"Pff." He pouted and poked the space between my brows.

"We've both been bad. Okay? Let's just admit that and move on."

"How…how do we move on?"

"Don't know." He shrugged, and slurred his words: "Do better tomorrow?"

'How do we do that?' I thought.

"Agreed," I said, letting go of the drink, and grabbing his hand instead.

"Namjoon…" He complained, watching me kiss his hand. "Stop it."

"It's just your hand. Nothing dirty."

"I guess…"

He looked up at me while my lips were still on the back of his hand, and I wondered if it was the shots that made him blush or me. "…it's not."

I wanted to kiss him more than I wanted to breathe, but while the music kept being loud, and the space between us kept being silent, an amused V hung his arm around my shoulders, saying: "We gotta leave!"

"Why?" Jungkook asked.

"Cause I…"

"You, pig!"

And the tall, blond, blue-eyed beauty poured her pink, freshly made cocktail down V's head, but she wasn't done there when V simply shook the drops off like a dog getting rid of water from his fur.

"You're getting me wet too!" Jungkook shouted, but the woman looked around for someone to help her and then back at V with an insane look. It had me getting up.

"Security! Security!"

She shouted and I panicked. Grabbed Jungkook's hand and ran towards the exit. The three of us did.

The two of them were laughing.

I wasn't.

Hearing them breathe heavily by my side felt so much different than when I was running on my own.

We ran two streets away.

And only then thought to ask him: "What the hell could you have done so wrong in only five minutes? It took you five minutes, V."

"Fingered her."

"What?!" Jungkook yelled, not hiding his shock.

"I was complimenting her fashion choices. Her skirt especially so I just…"

"Slid a finger up her panties?" I guessed, incredulous.

"That's the thing, she wasn't wearing any."

"V!" I complained, pointing at the building we'd just left. "You don't do that in public."

"It's her fault for being half-naked." He argued, smiling. "And she was wet too."

"Ew, ew…let's just go home," Jungkook suggested, starting to walk towards our apartment by himself.

"So soon? It's only four AM." V reminded us.

I squatted down, holding my head, saying: "I could use some sleep."

"You two suck. Grandpas! Grandpas!"

"Tae, stop yelling. For the love of..." I begged.

"Old men stuck inside young bodies!"

"Hurry up!" Jungkook told us.

"Old, you're both old. A waste of youth."

"You owe me a drink, you, young one." I let him know, standing up.

Despite all odds, we made it back home in one piece.

Well, I made it by holding onto Jungkook's small frame and V made it by walking as if he hadn't had a thing to drink or smoke.

We ended up staring at him dancing by himself in the middle of the kitchen while making pancakes with nothing short of amazement and disgust.

"Where does he get the energy?" I asked, a hiccupping Jungkook.

"He had a coffee."

"When?"

"When you were getting dressed."

"Well, I guess caffeine hits him in all the right spots."

"You two, pass me the chocolate sauce." He requested of us through the guitar solo blasting from the laptop.

"We don't have any," I reminded him, getting up and heading toward the bedroom. Not caring about his pouting antiques. "And no one's going out anymore."

"Going to sleep,?" Jungkook asked me as I touched the door.

"Mhm."

I opened the door and heard V dramatically shouting:

"Kook, don't go! I don't want to be alone, I'll..."

Jungkook back-hugged me. Letting the door close behind him.

And I would've been probably happier or hornier if I wasn't so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open.

"Let go," I told him softly.

But he took it hard and let go immediately, saying: "Sorry."

I looked up at the ceiling and with all the energy I had left, turned around and rephrased my previous statement: "I like it when you hug me. But I am so tired I want someone to hit me in the head. So can you do that while we're laying down?"

"Hit you in the head?"

"Hug me."

He nodded, staring at the ground. Cheeks slightly pink.

I collapsed into bed while he gracefully placed himself next to me. Wrapping his arms around my neck, leaving kisses across my cheeks and neck.

"Let's sleep…" I told him. Closing my eyes.

"But I am not tired yet."

The innocent kisses turned into little bites, small licks, and breathy pauses.

"But I am…"

"Then take something."

That suggestion alone had both my eyes open and my heart beating faster.

"What did you just say?"

The sudden shift in my demeanor and tone had him pulling back and responding with: "Coffee. Have some coffee."

"Then why didn't you say coffee?"

"I couldn't…remember the word."

'Liar.' I thought.

"You want me to do pills now?"

"No…no…I…"

"You want me to do pills so I can fuck you, is that it?"

"No. Listen…I am drunk, let's just sleep it off, and tomorrow…"

"Jungkook?"

"Yeah?"

"I can do you without them."

He smiled. I smiled.

"But I am not going to." I continued.

He nodded, but I could see the question: Why not? written all over his face.

"Because I'd rather fall asleep kissing you, holding you in my arms, and…that's it."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Ok."

And that's what we did.

Albeit, I probably fell asleep before he did.

And stayed asleep for twelve hours straight.

When I woke up, my head was a small explosion waiting to happen.

V left to do his illegal job.

And Jungkook was on the couch, watching the same anime V did, high out of his mind.

So high that he hadn't moved at all while I ate, took a shower, and changed clothes.

Eyes, unblinking and red. Mouth hanging open.

"Hungry?" I asked him.

He didn't answer.

"Jungkook?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Already ate."

"Good."

I let myself fall into the space next to him.

Wrapped my arm around his shoulder and pulled him to my chest.

It was comfortable. It was safe. It would've been peacefully quiet too if it wasn't for the show.

"Enlighten me, what's the pigtail girl so mad about?" I asked. Although I wasn't that curious.

"Someone stole her cat."

"Why?"

"Because it has magical powers."

"Of course," I said, ironically. "And why's that boy following her around?"

"He's keeping an eye on her. There's this dark wizard who wants to get her pendant and its powers, so he's always lurking around."

"That's…a stalker."

"It's not like that."

"If you say so."

"Namjoon?"

"Hm?"

"Did something happen with that…morphine user? Like two days ago?"

"Not really…why?"

"You were gone for two days."

"The first day, after I got our money, I fell asleep at Mitch's. I swear something's in that tea, but she keeps denying it."

"And the second?"

"The second…aa, the second day...the police showed up."

"What?"

It was a quiet question. As if he didn't comprehend what I'd just said. But there was a panicked edge to it.

"I took care of it."

"You took care of what?"

He kept staring at the screen. Not tearing his eyes from it.

And when I pulled his face closer to kiss any part of it, I could feel his heartbeat beating from the way his neck was pulsating.

'That's odd…'

"No one saw me. No one's going to look for us. There's nothing to worry about."

"In any case, let's not…do any risky deliveries anymore. Okay?"

"Fine."

"I'm glad you didn't get caught."

"So am I, Jungkook. So, am I."

We continued to watch the anime without speaking.

I had so many questions because the thing made no sense, but I didn't want to ruin the moment. The warmth of his body, next to me. This calm. His calm. I wanted to keep him there. Like that. Even if he was high.

I wanted to make this moment last a little longer.

And I did. We did.

Until the phone rang.

"Fucking hell," I mumbled, getting up to get it from the kitchen counter.

Jungkook didn't ask who was it but he did lower the volume.

"Hi," I said to someone who called with a private number.

"Namjoon?"

And Jimin's voice hit me in the ear.

"Hi," I repeated, leaning against the counter.

Feeling Jungkook watching me.

"Been a while."

"It has. How you've been?"

"The usual…"

"Uni kicking your brain's ass then?"

"Sort of. But that's not why I've called you."

"Then why did you…"

"Do you know where Taehyung is?"

"Yeah, he's not here at the moment, but he'll be back later. Why?"

"You're living together?"

"Yes. Why?"

And Jimin hung up.

Making me call him back.

Only to find out that he's either turned off his phone or blocked my number altogether.

"Who was it?" Jungkook asked after I sat back down.

"Jimin."

I pulled him close again, but he resisted slightly, so he could look at my face.

"What did he want?"

"He didn't say. He hung up."

"Why?"

"I'd ask if I could."

The following days were tiring.

Having fun was tiring.

Dancing was tiring.

Drinking was tiring.

Smoking was tiring.

Doing anything but standing next to Jungkook was tiring.

Having him more willing to do stuff to me than I, to him was a change I was not accustomed to.

The more I didn't touch him, the more fun we had, and the more he wanted to be near me.

I enjoyed it.

I reveled in it.

But I also took some pills.

Cause I also had to deliver.

I had to stay awake.

So, after three days of no sleep, I was hallucinating while washing my teeth.

Seeing Fred going 'tsk, tsk' behind me in the reflection of the mirror.

The walls were red and then white.

I was hearing Jungkook and V talking shit about me that they probably weren't saying since I could hear it in the silence of the bedroom too.

I couldn't possibly fall asleep.

I was sweating, tossing, and turning.

No appetite.

No reaction to the hallucination of my father crying in the corner.

I was simply waiting to feel better.

And then the phone would ring and I'd have to go so I'd sniff some more white powder.

Wobble towards the provider, wobble towards the client, pass the drugs, and get the money. Go back, give the money to get my money.

A simple task.

A simple life.

Two friends laughing in the living room.

No idea what Jungkook and V were chatting about.

No energy to find out.

And when I asked V how he was able to fall asleep every night, he told me what anyone would: "Weed. You take uppers, need downers to fall asleep."

"Fine."

"What do you mean fine?"

"Jungkook, roll me a joint."

"Huh?!" He yelled from the bathroom.

"Roll me one. I can't fall asleep."

He hesitantly did. And both of them watched me smoke as if I was the most interesting exhibit they'd ever seen.

At first, it was annoying. But the more hits I took, the less I cared.

They looked blurry. Felt so far away that they might as well be ghosts.

The three of us watched the ending of the anime that I haven't seen from the beginning.

And before the credits rolled, I fell asleep.

Only to wake up to the sound of Jungkook crying.

"What the…"

I looked up and saw V frowning while Jungkook was wiping his tears.

"Did you make him cry? What the hell did you do?"

V sighed at my concern.

Jungkook shushed me and pointed at the screen where a dog was lying dead on train tracks.

"For fucks sake…" I swore under my breath and stormed into the bedroom.

My head hit the pillow and another ten hours of dreamless sleep followed.

When I woke up, it was night and Jungkook was asleep next to me.

I wrapped my arms around him, kissed his cheek, and wished I could fall back asleep.

Only that I couldn't.

Walked into the common room and found V sleeping as well.

I dressed in all black. Hid my face with a large hood and walked out.

Hurried to the nearest store and bought some cigarettes and an iced coffee.

But on my way back home, I halted. Turned around at the sound of some drunken teenagers praising the music at the club we'd been to a few days ago.

And found myself trashing the coffee on my way to the club.

I had a drink or two. Two that turned into five.

I was glued to the bar. And after I thought I had enough of the same music and drunk people buzzing in my ear like mosquitos, I had one more drink to go.

And I got dizzy. Not only that, but didn't feel ready to go back home to two sleeping people.

Hence, I started searching through my phone while smoking a cigarette in front of the club and called the only person who had a car.

"Morning Roxy."

"Do you own a watch?"

"Who uses watches anymore?"

It took longer than I thought it would take to convince her, but I was leaning back in the passenger seat of her car less than an hour later.

"Did you finally leave Jungkook? Is that why you've called me? Like a crazy person..."

I smiled and pointed at the road.

"Are you still drunk?" She asked and accused simultaneously, turning in her seat.

"Take me to uni."

"Have you trully lost it?"

"Uni. Now."

"Go get a taxi Namjoon. I am not your driver anymore."

I closed my eyes and ignored how the whole world was spinning on me.

Then I said the magic words: "Please. He won't answer my phone."

"Who? Jungkook?"

"Jimin."

"And…why should I care?"

"Because you care about me," I said simply. And to my surprise, shut her up and had her start the car.

"I hate you." She told me five minutes in.

"How ironic, Jungkook tells me that all the time."

"I wonder why…"

I fell asleep when we weren't even halfway there.

And when I was woken up by an angry Roxy because we'd arrived, the sun was almost up and my alcohol levels were down.

"Let's go to the store first."

"For what?"

" I need a beer."

"…are you kidding me?"

"Not at all."

"Are you an alcoholic now?"

I grinned at her and caressed her cheek.

"Want a drink too?"

She slapped my hand away and started the engine

"You owe me. Big time."

Four beers in, I had a headache and not the good buzz I was expecting, but I felt bad enough to go through the entrance as if I wasn't a dropout.

Walked up the stairs without memories popping into my mind's eye.

Until I opened the door to what used to be Jimin's and I's dorm room.

It was as if I had just left, and like I still belonged here, although there was someone else sleeping in my bed now.

And as I shook Jimin awake, I felt sad.

So incredibly sad it was hard not to cry.

"Why are you here?" He asked. No sleep in his tone. No surprise nor anger. It was just flat.

And nausea returned.

"You've blocked my number."

He slapped his forehead.

And the roommate I haven't had the pleasure to officially met groaned in his sleep.

"Let's talk in the hallway," Jimin whispered.

In the said, unlit, narrow hallway, he let me know, arms crossed: "You smell like you took a shower in beer."

"I had some on my way here…"

"Did you drink and drive?!"

"Shh. No. Roxy drove."

"Uh. Her... Why are you here Namjoon?"

"Why did you call and then hang up?"

"Why did you leave and not call at all?"

"…It's better for you if you're less involved in…"

"In?"

"It's better if you don't know."

"What? What the heck are you doing now?" He barked.

"Nothing new…"

I turned away, hands in my pockets, and stared at the walls.

'As if I've never left…'

"Nothing new?" He angrily asked. "You know what, if you came here to tell me nothing, I'd rather…"

"Dealing. I'm dealing again."

Arms went limp by his sides.

"Why? Why the hell are you doing that again?"

"Need the…money."

"For?"

"Living." I addmited, shrugging only one shoulder, "That doesn't matter though. Why did you kick V out and me, out of your phone?" I asked, sounding more upset than I was.

"Me? You left me! Jungkook left. Without a reason! Might I add? And then he…V…"

The anger turned into sadness.

And when I turned to look at him, I recognized the emotion that he was trying to convey.

'Shame and fear.'

"What did he do?" I asked, feeling how dry my throat was.

"It doesn't matter."

"Let me decide that."

"Namjoon."

"Jimin."

He looked away this time, blurting out:

"You left. You don't get to be my friend whenever you feel like it. I told you that's not how it works!"

"I am trying to protect you."

"From what? Yourself?"

"Didn't you hear me? I am dealing again. And Jungkook is…"

"Using again." He finished for me in a matter-of-fact tone.

"How did you know?"

"It's quite obvious, isn't it?"

He crossed his arms again.

"Bambi, just tell me."

"No."

"Why? What you got left to lose?"

"Nothing. I got nothing! After the two of you left, and V too, I… I hate my roommate."

He said out loud without meaning to and then covered his lips immediately. Only to whisper the same thing again as if I didn't hear him at first: "I hate him. He's a prick. And everything is harder...time is passing like a turtle with knee problems and I don't know. I've missed you. Even Jungkook, sometimes…"

"But not V."

"Not…V."

"Fine."

I swiftly and drunkenly pinned him against the wall.

"The heck is you…" He started.

I shushed him.

"Did he force you to do something?"

"What are you implying…" He started like that, but then his mouth remained open and his eyes seemed wetter.

"Did he force himself on you?"

"…"

"What the hell did he do? I'll fucking kill him."

I decided, letting go of his arms and heading towards the exit as if I could reach V in a matter of minutes.

"He didn't force himself on me Namjoon."

I halted. Turned and saw him slide down the wall to sit on the ground, only to roll up his sleeve.

I closed the distance I'd just put between us, squatted down, and stared at what looked like somewhat fresh needle marks.

"He…drugged you?"

He nodded as his lips trembled. He caught the lower one between his teeth.

"What for?"

"I told him how I wished I could do it one more time, but then when he actually got the stuff…"

"How did he get the stuff?!"

"I didn't know and didn't care."

"Why would he…"

"I don't know!" He screamed and it echoed all around the hallways.

"He just did." He went on quieter.

"Against your will?"

"Well…I said I wanted to but when I had it in front of me, I... I got scared. Ok? I freaked out because I was sure I wouldn't be able to quit again."

"And did you? Relapse?"

"For a bit…But I got clean…again."

I sighed.

"I am sorry."

"It's not your fault. It's…his and mine."

"That's why you kicked him out?"

"It wasn't only that…"

"He did more?"

"He started using too. Pills and stuff…" He said, shrugging. Eyes downcast.

I nodded and kept listening to him as he hugged his knees to his chest.

"He'd stay up for days, then sleep. He'd tempt me to do it too, and I'd do it because it was supposed to be just harmless…fun."

'Fun.' My brain repeated on autopilot.

"And then he asked me if I would've ever gone for him if he wouldn't have done what he did…when we were little, you know…"

"Yeah, I remember. And?"

"And I said maybe."

"And?"

"He just laughed. Probably because he was high. But it still hurt."

"And then you kicked him out?"

"No… I kicked him out after I found the guy he raped on the floor of our dorm room."

"He raped...? Who?"

Jimin turned to look at me with angry eyes, although they were tear-filled.

"He couldn't move or talk…even after I've slapped him. Even after I poured water on him. He couldn't have consented to it Namjoon. V drugged him hard and then just did him. He told me…He…only came to our room to talk about some stupid class. He didn't want any of it."

I didn't know what to say or do.

But the thought of 'How wasn't that you?' did cross my mind.

He went on: "And then I thought, he hasn't changed. Maybe he felt too guilty to do it to me, but not guilty enough to stop…he's still…into…whatever that is. He's done it again and again. Because I think that was the second time. The first time, I caught him during the act, and the other guy's head was turned towards the wall but he was motionless when I came in…He...I thought he was just having sex and ...I need you to believe me!"

"I believe you, Jimin." I reassured him, squeezing his hand, smirking when I said: "After all, that's how I've met him. Sticking a needle into a guy's hand and... you know."

"Yeah. I mean…it's horrible. All these unwilling little boys…unknowing and innocent."

"Unwilling little boys…" It repeated in my mind. Like an echo in a cave.

"Why is he like that, Namjoon? I don't understand. He's a good-looking guy. He's not...bad...I think."

'How is that not Jungkook?'

And I swallowed the lump in my throat as I looked up at the tear that just fell from Jimin's eye as he caught my hand and held it between his.

"I didn't think you two would meet again. I didn't think…"

"Then why did you call?"

"Because I knew for sure he wouldn't want to see you. But Jungkook…Jungkook blocked my number."

"You wanted to warn him?"

He nodded.

"Well, he's fine…they are friends. Good ones. Nothing's happened."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am…"

"That guy didn't remember much Namjoon. And I wouldn't have told him he was naked when I found him and if he didn't piece two and two together...Like the pain of his..."

But whatever Jimin said next was blocked by the static in my mind.

"No. Not possible." I said, shaking my head. "Jungkook would've told me. And it would not be his first-time doing pills. He wouldn't have fainted or…"

"He gave that guy a lot Namjoon! He almost killed him just to keep him sedated! It wasn't only pills..."

I pulled my hand away from his.

"Listen to me. Please." He continued, voice trembling.

"I am. I am but…I would've noticed if something would've happened. I …Jungkook would've…"

"What if he was so sedated that he thought it was you?"

And the world stopped for me.

Once again, the word 'fun' seemed to be a poisoned apple I should've never taken a bite out of.

Jungkook's perspective:

Most often than not, people complain about other people choosing what they should be doing with their life. Whether is a parent who values academic success over your personal happiness. Or a lover who would break your bones if you'd suddenly choose to put your life back together after walking away. A boss who couldn't care less about your personal life and who holds your future wrapped around their pinky.

But in these cases, you'd have someone to blame.

It's their fault your life is not how you want it to be.

It's their fault you can't move on or start over.

Their fault you can't be free and attempt to find some sort of momentary happiness.

And that's horrible.

But it's also a blessing in disguise.

Cause when you got no one else to blame but yourself, strange things start to happen.

You are your best friend and your worst enemy stuck in the same decaying body.

You got nowhere to escape. No one to fight.

And no one to judge, but yourself.

You try to lie to yourself and convince yourself that the things you desire are the ones that you speak out loud. But the ones you keep hidden are the ones that pull the strings from behind the black curtain within your mind.

You want to have control over it. Anyone would love to burn that curtain. But the thing is: you can't help what you actually desire. Can't change it until after you've achieved it. If you're lucky enough to get what you want in the first place. And if you don't even know what you want, you either already got it or you won't let yourself admit to what you want. Admit it to yourself. Perhaps, it's been so long, that you've completely forgotten what it is that you originally wanted.

Cause whose lifetime wish is to sit in a bed and forget they're alive? Whose lifetime wish is to have someone who understands when you need to be alone for days on end? For that person to keep waiting for you, but not restless enough, or selfish enough to disturb your unpeaceful sleep. Who can say out loud that oblivion is their best shot at happiness?

I can't.

But actions don't lie.

Reality can't lie.

Days will pass. And then years will pass.

Then if you look back and if you're being honest with yourself, all that's been driving you to ever get out of bed was a taste of escapism.

And that word does not encapsulate the years you've spent running away from the real world. Whatever that means.

But that's a lie you keep telling yourself.

You've been living in the real world all along without consenting to it. And you've made choices that you try to ignore or pass the blame for those decisions around.

They called it: having one foot in the grave and one out. No commitment to anything.

However, if those choices have led you to spend time in front of moving pictures, watching someone else's story just so you can take breaks for your own then you've put your life on hold while you're still living it.

The present, that's it. That's all you got.

Avoiding it is just another choice.

Everything is a choice.

There's no break. No true escape.

The characters on the screen, if they win, it might feel like you've also won by default. But the truth is, you're still in your bed and you haven't moved an inch. Your life is still the same.

If those choices have led you to a substance that erases all your thoughts so you can finally float somewhere that no one can reach unless they scream in your ears, kick your body or simply, hurt themselves enough to matter, then those choices have led you to see no future.

To not get stuck in the present. Or in the past. But in an in-between dimension that only the train of escapism can bring you to.

And you want to want something else more than anything.

You wake up in the morning and you tell yourself you want to be a better person. Want to do something productive. Something that would ultimately tell the world that you were here too. What you've felt and lived wouldn't have been in vain. Everything would've mattered. It all would've been worth it.

You would matter.

But then you get out of bed.

And all you want is to escape again cause it hurts. It all hurts somehow.

Whether the exit is just another room in the maze that is life.

A game, a book, a daydream, a show, a song, or a thought. A walk, a meaningless conversation, hours spent with a loved one or with a horrible person, sex that can mean everything and nothing. Whatever it is, your life stays the same.

After a while, you start to wonder if you truly do want something else.

Whether you ponder or not. And you either conclude that you don't know or that this might be what you wanted all along. Conclude that you feel like you're living someone else's life. Like you're not in control at all.

Or that the world seems too scary for you. People are too complicated. Rules are messy, and made for people who don't feel empathy. Systems that are made for robots. Jobs that no one wants to do. Lives no one can save.

Honesty is a dying breed. Love, a way to repair past trauma. Money is just another way to buy your way out of the realization that you're on a spinning rock in space.

Cause honestly, crashing the escapism train would be nothing short of painful and terrifying. With unforeseeable results.

Nothing seems worse than uncertainty. And you're swimming in it. Kicking right and left, hoping something sticks.

The best friend inside you and the best enemy you've ever had, both want to survive with the least number of bad consequences. They just want to minimize the pain, no matter what thoughts they'd send you, the observer. They are just as lost as you are because they are you.

So, what then?

Do you surrender and just take what you can get until you'll want something else? Or do you slap yourself across the face and tell yourself that enough is enough?

I wish I knew. But I just don't want to get out of bed to escape or fight.

Fight, freeze, or flight. It's always one or the other, no matter the situation.

And I guess I am frozen solid.

A windowless room. Fitting.

A shut door. Fitting.

The one apartment no one can hear you screaming from. Just perfect.

The outside matches the inside.

I might not want to but I can see it.

The outside doesn't change if the inside doesn't.

And they say ice is numbing. But if you keep it on any part of your body long enough, it gets red, it starts to hurt, to burn as if it's liquid fire.

And I froze a long time ago. I can't even pinpoint when everything around it started to hurt.

The weed makes me forget about it.

But the moments I am sober, I can feel it.

The redness, the hurt, and the burn.

The cause? I'd like to blame my parents. Friends, present or forgotten. Lover or enemy. The system. Society. Utter strangers.

But there's only me in this room.

"Mars to Jungkook."

And now, there's also Taehyung at the door.

I looked at him and continued to look without speaking.

He grinned.

"What are you doing?"

"Lying in bed."

"Why?"

"Don't feel like getting up."

"No joint yet?"

"No…"

"That's why."

I watched him jump on the end of the bed and stretch his arms after.

"I had such a nice dream." He went on. "This grandma gave me some of her pills and…"

I cut him off. "Why do you like pills so much?"

"Why do you like weed so much?"

"I don't like it."

He smiled, arching an eyebrow.

"I really don't." I insisted. "It's like…medicine."

"Funny. I've never thought of pills as medicine. More like a way to make life better. Funnier. Brighter."

"You're insane." I joked.

"But it's the same for you. Life seems better when your high, doesn't it?"

"No…it just seems less…overwhelming."

"I guess. So…" He laid on top of the blanket and my legs, fanning his eyelashes at me, with a soft grin.

I rolled my eyes.

"What do you want?"

"Let's smoke, and then go for a walk."

"I don't want to walk…"

"It's nice outside."

"It's almost night."

"That's when it's beautiful outside. When there are not a lot of people." He explained.

"I don't have the energy."

"Grandpa! Grandpa!"

"I am no grandpa! I just don't feel like it…"

"Grandpa!"

"I'll go if you stop shouting. And we're walking only for five minutes and then we're coming back."

"Ten."

"Five."

"Seven."

"Five."

"Six."

Going outside while high has always been nerve-wracking.

Although I logically knew that no one cared enough. Or could even tell that I wasn't sober.

I still felt like every single person was judging me. Could see right through me. Knew everything.

Thought: Look at him. Can't be normal. It's illegal. He's ruining himself. He's just a junkie. A lost cause. Mentally ill. Controlled by a substance.

I always wanted to argue with: I am in pain.

But this imaginary, mental spat would always end with them listing healthier coping mechanisms.

Which meant that they didn't understand that I didn't know where the wound was. Or how nothing made it stop bleeding.

And if I'd say that I've tried exercise, healthy food, taking it slow, and meditation. They'd just tell me that I didn't try hard enough.

They wouldn't believe me no matter what I would've said cause drugs can't be the cure.

Or worse, they would try to make my pain seem smaller, and less important by claiming that everyone is in pain in one way or another. Life isn't meant to be enjoyable all the time.

But what if life is never enjoyable? What then? Another skeptic will appear.

Life is meant to be fought for. The journey and not the reward.

The bad and the good coexist.

Ying and Yang.

'Blah, blah.'

But that's the thing,

I didn't enjoy sleeping. Eating. Sex. Or anything else, truly.

It was just a distraction from this pain. From existing.

That's why I did anything.

And they weren't even distracting enough. They couldn't be controlled. Done at will. Continuously.

Not only that, but they wouldn't be able to distract me enough.

I was never able to think of anything else but this ice. But this burn. The fact that I am breathing and this breath will one day run out while I am fighting for a morsel of bread and a cup of water. Just to survive and nothing else.

Weed made everything go away instantly.

One inhale, and I'd forget all about the pain.

Something you can take any time, anywhere, no matter if you're hungry, sleepy, or having sex.

Like a pill that you pop and it makes everything better.

A glass of water that quenches your thirst.

It worked. It just worked for me.

But it also helped me ignore everything else.

Smoke that covers the ice entirely.

Covers the fact that I am a dropout with no prospects. Covers the fact that I couldn't and can't cope with life. That the thought of getting a normal job seems like torture. Living a normal life felt like theatre play to me. Covers that my boyfriend has anger issues. That my life and his life are illegal and wrong in the eyes of most people.

That trying to curb your pain is something you can get locked up for because no one knows how to help you so they need to stop seeing you. Cause then they'd have to look at their own pain too.

My parents. Friends. The place I am living in. Everything stood frozen alongside my insides.

Like the hand that touched my waist to make me go in a certain direction.

Like the dreamy stare that he had when he passed me a soda.

Like the laugh that made people walking down the street look at us funny.

All of it was so far away. And unimportant.

Until it wasn't.

I was in the kitchen, looking through the fridge when Taehyung said: "Want to pop a pill with me?"

I closed the fridge. Faced him and kept staring at him without any answer coming up.

My mind was silent. My stomach-turning. Gut tight.

He smirked.

"What? You can't say yes? Too scared he'll notice?"

"I…"

"Don't worry, he's not coming back tonight."

"…how do you…know?"

"He called and said something urgent came up."

"When?"

"When you were sleeping."

"And you're telling me just now?"

"Now it seems like it matters."

He smiled again. Extended his arm and showed me a small, yellow, round, chalky pill.

"So? What's it going to be?" He asked.

I looked at it. Looked at him.

And once again, I felt frozen with fear.

And want. And need.

For something new. Something that might conceal this ice from myself.

'Will it do something? Won't it be just another pain medicine I won't be able to quit?'

"No. Thank you."

I turned my back to him and the pill to open the fridge.

"Really? Cause it seems like you want it."

"I don't."

I reached for something, but I didn't want it, or see it.

"But you do."

"You take it. I don't want it."

"That's why you're caressing the pickle jar?"

I shut the fridge. But didn't turn around. Ready to refuse more confidently, until he softly let me know:

"He won't be back until the afternoon. By then, the effects will be long gone."

I wanted to think about it. Think about why I'd rather not. Think about why I couldn't try it.

But nothing came to mind.

"Just one?" I asked.

"Half would be better 'cause it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Which one is it?"

"Ecstasy. But why are you talking to the fridge?"

I turned. And whispered, not able to look him in the eye:

"Don't you have…a downer?"

He smiled.

I swallowed it.

The white pill.

That was supposed to make me forget everything.

That was supposed to take all my worries away.

To make me human and inhuman at the same time. One who didn't have to have a past, a present, or a future.

But ten minutes later, I felt the same.

"Be patient." He told me, turning on a show.

We ate cold pizza. We drank some soda.

We joked about the show.

And then the screen got blurry and I got incredibly tired.

"I think I am going to go to bed…" I mumbled.

"That'd be such a waste. Listen, the tiredness will pass. Just have some water."

"What did you…" I fought to breathe out. "What did you give me exactly?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah. I'd like to know what…"

Lips dry. Mouth dry. It was so hard to talk or think.

"A downer. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I …guess."

I ended up laying down. Head on his lap. Not being able to stand straight anymore.

He caressed my hair and kept watching the show.

I almost fell asleep, but then he suddenly stood up.

I didn't know what he was doing, but when I opened my eyes next as I was struggling to stay awake to feel something good for once, I saw him, squatting down in front of the couch. Felt him grabbing my arm and then I saw the needle he was about to stick in.

Wanted to pull my arm away but I didn't have the strength.

I just looked at it as it went in.

And gasped as the liquid was being poured into my veins.

Taehyung tapped the vein after.

Got up and left me there.

I got up with the last of my will.

And headed towards the bathroom surely but slowly. As if within a dream.

I heard him laughing as he asked: "Where are you going?"

'Away.'

That was the one thought I had as I entered the tiled room and fell face forward on it.

His laughter echoed in the bathroom. It went in my ear and then it snapped.

My chest felt like it snapped.

"Oh, Jungkook. You're so easy."

He said as he walked in, turned on the lights, and turned me on my back.

I kept blinking. Seeing only flashes of his boxy smile.

He tried to drag me back into the living room by the arms.

And all I could do was groan softly, trying to stand my ground. Or on the ground.

Getting up seemed like a bad idea.

"You want to do it here? Cool. I am not picky about the place."

'Do…what?'

That was the last thought I had before everything went black.

I didn't fall asleep.

But I couldn't see. Nor move.

I could feel something once in a while.

Like the pants that were being pulled off my feet.

The coldness of my chest against the tiles.

His hand caressing the back of my head.

I was terrified in the one millisecond in which I was fully conscious.

Like my brain coughed reality out for me to see it just enough to be aware of it.

I couldn't breathe normally.

As tired as I was, there was still energy for me to gasp for air. To try and grab it.

To hear him say: "Stop fighting it."

There was another crack in the ice when his hand slid from my shoulder to my lower back and then went inside me.

Another crack in the ice happened when I felt something bigger go in.

And then darkness again.

Some pain in my behind.

Some despair.

Another gasp for air.

Black.

"How are you not asleep yet? Breathing like that…not sexy at all."

I figured he was fucking me after what probably was a long time.

Because that thought did not come up to me until I could feel him.

Until I could hear him panting above me.

My front kept rubbing against the tiles.

The cracks. I could almost hear them despite my hyperventilation.

The faucet was dripping continuously.

His dick kept getting shoved in and out of me.

It hurt so much that I wished I'd die.

I wished I could make my body shut off by wishing it alone.

'No.'

That was the one thought. The one word.

That I couldn't utter.

Not that it mattered.

I tried to relax and go to sleep.

I hoped I'd pass out.

But my body wouldn't let me.

It kept me awake. Aware.

Just enough to feel it.

Just enough to fear it.

Just enough to break from the inside out.

It went from the top of my head to my toes. Like small veins that burned.

Like small ducts with lava inside them.

Like my soul was breaking.

It wasn't just my body that felt like it was being torn into little pieces, one by one with no mercy.

Relentless tearing.

My arm felt like it fell off. My legs were nonexistent.

My mind was struggling to think, to stay aware, but all it could do was hurt inside my skull.

Like it wanted to either go out or tell everything under it how to function.

But the rest couldn't.

And my soul wanted to know how I got here.

How did I fail so badly?

How did I ignore reality for so long that I no longer had the option to scream?

To live or die.

In between.

Another crack.

My chest exploded.

And it kept exploding.

A small bomb that kept going off, but always resurrected itself.

The pain. The pain was insurmountable.

In and out.

Whatever he was doing was nothing compared to the ice.

I knew that, but the echo of his pants and grunts were reminding me of Namjoon.

Of how this was my fault. How I did this somehow.

By turning the other cheek. By being stuck in my head.

By wishing to escape. Unable to cope with reality.

Unable to change.

Unable to want something else.

Unable to melt the damn ice.

Now it was cracking.

It was done.

And my whole body felt like it was freezing.

I was buried under snow.

And the wind was howling.

The fall from the mountain was high, but I couldn't stop it.

No escape.

In and out.

No break between breaths to look outside.

It was just me.

I was stuck with me.

And I was horrible.

I was more conscious of how I felt inside my body than I ever was.

How my feelings felt.

How my mind felt.

How being alive felt more now than I ever did until that very moment.

And I learned that I hated myself after the fifth blackout.

Cause in the void that I got sucked in every time I blacked out, I kept being me. I could look at the void and feel myself.

The observer.

I returned from it and back into my body.

But there was no break from myself.

Although I believed I was half alive and half dead.

I was still there.

'Even after death, I will still have me.'

He went in and out.

Grabbed at my shoulder blades.

Rested his weight on me.

Making my chest heavier.

The cracks.

There was nothing left to crack.

It was all lava.

All burning.

All painful.

All too much.

All too little.

'Ah, can't I just die? Let me die. Let me be someone else. I can't stand myself…please…let me…'

The faucet was dripping. The skin on skin, slapping. The cold floor. The lack of air. The void. The memories. The:

"You feel so good."

'Escape.'

...

..

.

I didn't die.

I woke up in bed and the sun was already up.

Like someone waking up from a coma.

And Taehyung came in with a warm cup of tea.

I took it.

Staring at him as one would after having a horrible nightmare about said person.

All he said was: "Morning, sleeping grandpa."

I opened my mouth but all that came out was a weak, pathetic sound.

"Didn't sleep well? You looked so peaceful." He let me know.

'Was it a dream?' I thought.

"Hungry for some eggs?."

"T…"

"T? Tea?"

"Tae."

"Yes?"

I put the cup down on my lap and in my confusion, it spilled across the blanket and on my legs.

It burned.

"Get up, quick. Why are you just standing there?"

There was no reaction on my part.

It almost felt good to have my body burning instead of the inside.

It was nothing like yesterday.

'A nightmare? Right?'

"Tae."

He grabbed ahold of the blanket and threw it off the bed along with the cup.

He looked at my wet pants and then said: "I'll go get a towel. Or cold water. Which one would…"

"Taehyung," I spoke, as loudly as I could.

"Didn't you get burned? It was scolding hot."

"Did you use inject something in me yesterday?"

He smiled.

"What are you talking about?"

"After I took the pill, what…"

He cut me off.

"You fell asleep on the couch. Such a waste of a good pill. Now how about we talk about it after you get out of those…"

He reached for my legs and I immediately gathered my knees to my chest.

They were still hot.

My skin was burning.

But I felt lighter.

So much lighter.

Like the inside was somehow empty.

"Pants."

"Taehyung. Did you …in the bathroom…"

"Did you hallucinate or what?"

'Did I?'

"Did I really fall asleep after I took the pill?"

"Yes. I am telling you. What about the bathroom?"

I was trying to read his expression. Trying to find something else but worry about my one-degree burns. Something else besides the confusion.

Some guilt. Some: I know what you're talking about.

But there was nothing there.

"I know. A towel soaked in cold water. I'll be right back."

And he ran out.

So, I stretched my legs out and looked down at my soaked pajama pants.

And then it hit me.

As he ran back with the wet towel and started wiping my covered thighs after I refused to let him take the pants off.

It hit me as I looked at his clothes too. I didn't even have to roll my sleeve to look for a mark, I was that sure.

"It will hurt like hell after, don't be shy. Look, if you don't want to be naked in front of me fine. Then you do it. I'll go in the…"

"If I only fell asleep on the couch, then why did you change my clothes?"

The hand stopped wiping. And the eyes stopped blinking. They stared at one blind spot. Somewhere around my chest. But they weren't seeing it. They were pondering something intensely.

I could see that clearly.

"What do you mean? You've changed your clothes before you…"

"We went for a walk, we got back and we were about to eat. I didn't change…I…didn't change."

"You did."

"I didn't!"

He looked up and smiled. But it was nervous.

And I caught that second before he reverted to the face he had before.

The one that said: You're crazy.

"Look…I did change your clothes because I spilled something on you while you were asleep. I got something to drink and…"

"What did you drink?"

"Coffee."

"Show me the pants."

"I…already washed and dried them."

"That's such a bad lie," I said with disappointment, getting up and heading toward the door.

Only that I didn't get to it.

He caught my arm as soon as my feet touched the ground, and he pulled on it hard enough that I fell backward.

Head missing the edge of the bed only by a centimeter.

Back against the ground, I watched in shock as he positioned himself above me desperately.

Looking down at me with no smile in sight.

"He'll kill both of us if you tell him. Is that what you want? My blood on your hands?"

His hands were on each side of my arms.

And another nervous smirk emerged.

"I mean…nothing bad happened. You only fell asleep for a bit."

I couldn't find it in me to speak. I didn't know who I was talking to anymore.

The nightmare kept repeating.

The pain still seemed so real.

Like it should still be happening.

Cause it was so painful then, that I couldn't imagine how it could be gone so fast.

Or ever.

And then there was me.

I could feel myself being stuck in this body.

Filling up the arms and legs.

Moving my mouth.

I could feel myself doing it.

I couldn't feel him in the room, but I couldn't ignore him either.

He was above me.

Pinning me down.

Saying: "You don't want that, do you? A one-time thing to end in death." He explained with unblinking eyes and a crooked smile, "It won't happen again so there's no point in bringing it up. Is there?"

I shook my head.

"He'll be back soon so you better forget about it. What do you say? How about a joint?"

I nodded. Not because I wanted it, but because I was afraid to refuse.

Afraid to anger him.

Although he wasn't Namjoon.

I no longer felt safe.

I no longer felt like I belonged in this no-window room.

I felt like it was all for someone else.

Someone who couldn't feel.

But I could feel everything.

The disappointment in Taehyung. The disappointment in myself.

The fear. The damn fear.

The insanity.

The agony.

The excruciating pain in my chest that was a small child compared to the monster from yesterday. But it was still there.

Breathing. Inside me.

And after I sat down on the couch with changed pants and accepted the joint from between Taehyung's fingers, I wished this thing could help me erase it.

Only that, for once in my life, I was smoking because someone else wanted me to.

And I suddenly wanted to be sober. Sober so I could run away and never look back.

'Why do I only ever do bad things to myself? Tell me... And why would you do something like that to me? What did I ever do to you?'

"Don't you feel better now?" He asked, grinning his usual grin.

I dirtied the air with smoke and replied: "Yeah."