taehyung counted in his head, one, two, three...

he sat up, and went back down over and over again as quickly as he could. he glanced at the old digital clock on jimin's bedside table: 2:57 a.m. he scoffed at how pathetic he was, doing sit-ups at three in the morning to burn away calories that he had never consumed.

the bruises on his spine never seemed to go away. after two years of sit-ups on the concrete garage floor or the tiles of his bathroom, there seemed to be a constant ache in the area around his tailbone and lower spine.

he breathed quickly in time with his sit-ups, and he was so focused that he didn't notice namjoon walking into the room.

"what are you doing? working out at three?"

taehyung stopped for a moment, making rigid eye contact with namjoon.

namjoon was tall and slender with broad shoulders and masculine features. he walked with a constant limp and he had scars and tattoos layered all over his wrists. it was as if he cut over the tattoos that bled into his skin.

"i'm anorexic."

"clearly."

taehyung tried to not take offense to namjoon's nonchalance.

"what do you have?"

"if you want to have a real conversation that isn't just whispering from the doorframe, you might want to talk somewhere downstairs."

and so taehyung obliged, discontent with the forty sit-ups he had managed to do before he got caught. he slipped the covers off of his slight frame and followed namjoon down the stairs.

taehyung sat down on the couch while namjoon went to the kitchen. he returned with a can of soda and a glass of water, handing the water to taehyung.

"i'm a mild schizophrenic with depression."

he spoke indifferently as he took a quick gulp of soda. taehyung glanced once more at the cuts that lay on top of the cursive-lettered tattoo.

"what does that tattoo mean? the one on your left wrist."

namjoon took a glance at his wrist, running his fingers over the ink and scars. on his skin lay the silhouette of a bird in mid flight, and it was flying into the sun. the tattoo was done beautifully, carefully etched into his skin with care to every last detail.

"freedom."

namjoon touched the bird again, breathing in as he then lay his hands back on his lap.

"it means death in a way too, i guess."

taehyung didn't ask why it would mean death. he knew what namjoon meant.

"and the sun is there because it's the center of our solar system," he said. "it gives life to everything on earth, and the bird is flying at it to escape, i guess. to be free."

to die.

the words were left unsaid.

"who did it for you? the tattoo."

"i did."

taehyung's eyes widened. "you did a beautiful job."

namjoon smiled in response, shallow dimples forming at each cheek.

"you should give me a tattoo one day."

"yeah? what do you want a tattoo of?"

taehyung shrugged. "i don't know. a butterfly, maybe."

"a butterfly?"

"butterflies are pretty."

that's all i've ever wanted to be.

"you might be too pure to hang out with me," namjoon joked. "ever smoked weed before?"

"no, but i smoke cigarettes. they suppress my appetite."

namjoon nodded knowingly, standing up and smoothing out his pants. "it's really late. we should sleep now," he said. "or rather, i'll let you continue your sit-ups if you do them quietly."

taehyung snorted and gently stood on his skinny legs. namjoon couldn't help but notice that he was so small and thin that he looked as if he could be whisked away with a soft breeze.

"why do you starve yourself?"

namjoon's question was blunt, and taehyung noticed that that was how things were in the treatment home. they'd ask each other, how much do you weigh? why do you cut yourself? how did you try to kill yourself? and they would answer each other indifferently; 53 kilos, i hate myself, i took pills.

so taehyung wasn't taken aback by namjoon's question.

"i don't know," he said. "it started with trying to lose weight, and then it started to become more about control. like, i can control how much weight i lose by controlling how many calories i consume."

"ah, so it's like cutting but with food."

"basically, i guess."

they started going back up the stairs to their rooms, and namjoon smiled as they parted.

taehyung didn't do anymore sit-ups that night.

* * *

group therapy day, taehyung thought miserably.

the living room was dark, the couches arranged in a circular formation looking as desolate as ever.

the room felt cold and shadowed over with blue, sweeping away any warmth that could have possibly been there earlier. taehyung sat curled up on a small chaise, hugging his knees to his chest and relishing in the fact he could feel his ribs so prominently through his shirt. he watched the other boys file in one by one, all of them sending a slight smile his way as they sat down.

yoongi didn't, though. he scowled a bit as he stepped into the room, and he never made eye contact with taehyung.

taehyung understood; he was just as miserable.

bogum sat down and smiled encouragingly, taking time to look at taehyung in particular.

"how are you all today?"

there was a moment of silence, and then a slow murmur of responses.

"does anyone want to share something? maybe something good that's happened, or a step forward."

taehyung scoffed a bit.

a step forward? it seemed that all he was doing was going backwards.

"i'm almost at 60 kilograms," jimin said.

bogum smiled. "are you excited to get back out there?"

"yeah. can't wait to dance again."

there was a momentary pause, and then hoseok spoke up. "i'm almost recovered," he said. "my drug dependence is nearly gone."

and the session went by slowly.

taehyung prayed that he wouldn't be forced to speak, keeping his eyes downcast and breathing slowly. he focused his attention on wrapping his fingers around his wrist, and seeing how far he could go up his arm until his fingers no longer touched.

and then: "taehyung, how about you?"

taehyung unwrapped his hand from around his wrist. jimin's eyes were set on his arm, and taehyung knew that jimin had seen what he was doing.

"um... i..."

"how has recovery been?"

the room's silence felt heavy, weighing down on taehyung's shoulders with double the weight of his own body. he bit his lip.

"horrible."

bogum looked at him with eyes that encouraged him to go on, and taehyung suddenly felt frustrated and acrimonious.

how dare he act like he cared?

no one cared about taehyung, and he knew that.

his hands were shaking, either from the cold or from lack of food.

"i hope i fucking starve to death."

bogum didn't look surprised; rather, he looked impressed at taehyung's composure.

"my parents left me because an anorexic son was too much of a burden for them," he said. "i'm an embarrassment. why are strangers like you acting like you care, when even my parents didn't care enough to stay?"

bogum remained solemn, sighing slightly as taehyung stood from his seat.

his legs felt weak and his entire body was rigid and freezing, but nonetheless, taehyung managed to walk straight out of the living room and up the stairs to the second floor.

taehyung wished he could be the bird in namjoon's tattoo, flying to its heart's desire and being liberated from the hurt of the world.