Jimin's leg bounced in a soft beat, foot tapping against the hardwood floor. He wore this bored expression, glancing around aimlessly at the other addicts surrounding the hall. Their chairs faced the stage, spot light on the addict talking who needed to say their peace. Various people gathered in the chairs, ranging from young to old and everything in between.

Drugs didn't discriminate. Anyone could get addicted.

A middle aged women took the stand, looking like what Jimin could only describe as a walking skeleton. Her arms were thinner than twigs, hair rough as straw while her cheek bones protruded painfully out of her skull. He guessed she was a recently turned sober addict as no one could be that dead looking without abusing the oh so sweet euphoric drugs.

"Hi, my name is Jamie." Her voice came out cracked and weak through the small microphone.

"Hi Jamie." Her name was repeated back by the crowd before her, though Jimin did not join in.

"So, this is my twelfth day sober. I know it's not a lot but for me it's everything. I haven't had a single snort or needle. It's been hard, found myself tempted many times but have stayed strong because the thought of disappointing all of you keeps me going." She smiles displaying her yellow blacken teeth, sign of the abusive nature she had with drugs.

Jimin wasn't sure how he was suppose to feel. Why he was suppose to care if she was sober. What did it matter to him if she did a little smack or snorted a few lines of coke. What she did with her life was her business not his. Yet everyone in the hall started clapping, cheering for the barely sober girl. Jimin glances judgtngly at them, noticing one young boy like him not participating in the proud clapping.

No instead he sat there looking just as bored, just as numb as he did. The said boy shifts his eyes his way, forcing their gazes to lock. The boy grazes his eyes up and down, taking him in or checking him out is what Jimin guesses.

Jimin choses to do the same, raking his eyes over his body. The boy wore black canvas pants, big chunking boots and a ripped white shirt. His hair a midnight black, messily tossed around in loose shards. If Jimin didn't no any better he'd call him sexy, a bad boy to sure lure any girl in.

"Thank you Jamie for sharing, your story truly is inspiring and can't wait to hear more." Their staring game gets cut short with the sound of the therapist taking centre stage.

Jimin breaks his gaze, shifting it to the thirty year odd women in a tight fitting skirt and blouse. He guessed she was the therapist or addiction group leader whose job it was to make everyone in here feel safe, like they could tell the world anything. She held this searing smile that seemed to be glued to her caked up lips. A spark in her eyes like she was actually enjoying being here surrounded by druggies.

"Now I believe we have a new comer here with us tonight." Her eyes trail through the crowd before landing on Jimin who begged they wouldn't.

He ties making himself appear small, shrink into his seat in hopes it would shield him but of course luck had never been on his side.

"What's your name sweetie?" She smiles to kindly to him, making Jimin despise her already.

Jimin doesn't speak, keeping his arms crossed and his eyes glaring. He wasn't going to participate in this stupid game when he didn't even want to play. All he wanted to do was sit here in silence and wait till he could leave. He didn't see the point in this when he didn't want to be sober. Wasn't ready to give up the drugs that kept him sane, kept him numb to the feeling of pain.

"It's alright, you don't have to do anything you can just listen but it would be great if you could at least tell the group your name and why you are here." She kept insisting, Jimin want desperately to run up there and punch her square in the face.

He groans lowly, slumping his arms to his side before reluctantly standing up. His eyes tore through the crowd who stared at him, feeling their aching eyes on him-burning him.

"Fine. My names Jimin-." He finally speaks, but as he goes to say more the crowd interrupt him.

"Hi Jimin." They all say back in unison, Jimin blinks at that.

He shallows the lump lodged in his throat, eyes accidentally catching with the mystery boy. Jimin tugs down his sweater, creating cute paws to hide his hands in. His voice sounds horse and strained which it was, public speaking was never his strong suit.

"Umm yeah-so I'm addicted to heroine and am here because my dad forced me. If I had a choice I'd be at a friends getting high but sadly I'm in this depressing Shit hole instead." Jimin's eyes were fixated on the boy as he spoke, seeing his permanent frown ever so slightly waver.

With that he sits back down, leaving the women at the stand looking shocked but composed. Her irritatingly cheery smile still plastered on her lips.

What was the point in lying? It was true. He'd much rather be scoring than being here listening to people's sad life stories. If he wanted to do that he wouldn't be taking drugs to shield him from his own miserable life.

"Right well thank you for sharing Jimin, I am glad you are here and seeking help. It's what we are all here for, to stay sober and better our lives." She kept that strong smile, addressing the rest of the group.

Jimin huffs, not sure himself if he was even wanting sobriety. Drugs were still a huge part of his life, something he latched onto to get him through the day. They still held importance to him, brought him bliss not shame.

He stuffs his shivering hands into his pockets, struggling to keep focused as confession after confession was pronounced by the recovering drug addicts. He began drifting off, blocking everyone out while his mind faded into the background. He caught the end of some of them. All their stories oozed the same depressing morbidity. Usually centred on one person they've hurt or affected with their addiction. Like a wife, parent, friend or child they've caused pain upon because of their need for drugs.

Jimin struggled to sympathise as he wasn't quite at that stage yet. He hadn't hurt anyone with his drug abuse or harmed anyone but himself. Though he supposed he's hurt his father but it wasn't like he meant to. He never planned for his father to find out about his drug addiction. No one was meant to know but him and the dealers he brought from.

"Hi my names Jungkook." Jimin is yanked from his thoughts by a new voice, he snaps his head up to see the young boy he was having a staring contest with before standing up on the stage.

"Hi Jungkook." Jimin in a daze joined in the chant back, blankly staring at the teenage boy.

Jungkook itches his skinny arm, Jimin when he looked closely could see the old scars. The same permanent mark that littered his own skin. They were the same weren't they? Two lost souls not sure why they were here or where they were going.

"It would've been three weeks since I last hit up but- I got really drunk last night with some mates and well, I used for the first time. I thought it would..I don't know feel better, more blissful because I hadn't used for so long but it didn't. It just made me feel shit and loathe myself for giving in. Then that self loathing made me turn to more drugs to block it out until I couldn't feel anything." Jungkook sounded broken in his words, the way he spoke powerful yet emotionless.

Jimin felt himself actually focusing for once, listening to the young, enticing man. Their eyes somehow searched for each other, locking together almost as if they were entranced. Jimin felt his eyes burning into his soul, could see the mirroring hurt circling them.

This boy was just as broken as he was. Just as desperate to escape reality, to feel nothing until he was completely numb.

..........
I'm actually in love with this book !

Love you my honeybuns