a/n:
slight trigger warning. it's only a short part near the end, and nothing graphic but i wanted to put a note here anyway

The house is quiet and dim, as at the moment all the lights are off, rainclouds outside closing off any exterior light. Jeongguk enters the living room and takes the liberty of turning on the lamp on the small table next to the couch. It's plenty bright enough. He sits down on the cushion and, as Jimin encouraged, makes himself comfortable.

Jimin, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have any intention of doing so himself. As soon as he sits down Jeongguk can see the boy ducking into the kitchen in a concernedly hurried manner.

"Jimin?"

"Do you want something to drink?" Jimin calls into the living room. Jeongguk smiles.

"What do you have?"

"Coffee, tea, water, and apricot juice."

"...apricot juice?"

"It's my uncle's. But I kinda like it, it's not bitter like grapefruit."

Cute. "Water's fine, thank you."

He hears the refrigerator open and close, as well as a cabinet, followed by the sound of plastic cups being pushed around as though the boy is searching for one in particular. Either that, or he's just having a hard time for some other reason. Regardless, Jeongguk doesn't feel right sitting around while Jimin does things for him, however small those things might be. So he stands up and makes his way to the kitchen.

There he finds the boy in the process of re-stacking a bunch of plastic, colored cups and putting them back into an overhead cabinet. Jimin then closes the cabinet and picks up the water pitcher on the counter and starts to pour the contents into one of the cups he had taken down.

"Can I help?"

On the contrary, Jeongguk does the opposite. His quiet, innocent question startles Jimin, who apparently didn't notice the other entering the kitchen, and as a result knocks over the cup half-filled with water - filled with nothing now. The water spills onto the counter and floor.

"I'm sorry, Jimin-"

"No, no, I-..." The boy stares at the floor like it's the ocean and he's knee-deep. "I'll take care of it, you can go sit down-"

"Well, I'm helping you clean this up now," Jeongguk counters, scanning the kitchen in search of something to clean up the small mess. He soon spots a roll of paper towels beside the sink and grabs them.

Jimin snatches them away. "It's fine," he blurts out. "I've already troubled you-"

"You haven't."

Jeongguk takes the paper towels back in a much more gentle manner - he's relieved Jimin doesn't yank them away - and kneels beside the puddle of water on the kitchen floor. He lays down a few towels, lets them soak up the water, then uses one more to wipe away the excess.

"And voilà." He stands back and hands the paper towel roll to Jimin. "You can clean up what's on the counter. Shared effort."

"I'm sorry..."

"I'm the one who made you spill it. No apologies necessary."

Jimin pouts, his expression low-spirited as he cleans up the spill on the counter, then refills the cup more carefully this time. Jeongguk accepts it gratefully.

But if he's honest with himself, he feels low-spirited as well. Jimin looks so tired. Like he could collapse at any moment, but he's refusing to let himself. Jeongguk can only hope it's not because the boy is currently a "host" and doesn't want to look bad in front of his only guest.

It shouldn't be that way, Jeongguk thinks sadly. He'd rather Jimin behave less politely, less like an acquaintance who wants to make a good impression and more like someone who knows his friend will understand if he lies on the couch for a while just to rest, to catch his breath because he's clearly had enough tonight.

But it's just in Jimin's nature. It's just the way he is, and Jeongguk knows that. But again, he just wishes the boy would act more naturally, casually, like he's not holding his breath so much.

Withholding another sigh, Jeongguk drinks his cup of water and stands by the kitchen doorway to wait for Jimin. The boy in question busies himself emptying the dish washer, loading it again with the few dishes in the sink and shuts it. He turns to face Jeongguk. He's not startled this time, but his sad expression hasn't changed.

"You should sleep, Jimin."

He shakes his head. "It's still early."

"You're clearly tired, though."

"I don't have to get up early tomorrow." Jimin dries his hands with a towel. "I'll catch up on sleep, I don't need sleep now."

"At least sit down."

"Why do you have to be so concerned?"

"Why can't I be??"

At the slight, unintentional raising of his voice, Jeongguk feels a surge of pain from his head that urges him to shut his mouth and bite his tongue.

A part of him doesn't want to drop the subject. He wants to get through to Jimin, somehow, if honing his words to be as direct as possible and shouting them is the only way to make the boy understand, but deep down Jeongguk knows it wouldn't help his case any, but likely make it worse. Not many people respond positively to loud voices.

Jeongguk's not the type to yell anyway. And especially not at someone like Jimin.

"Is your head okay?"

"It's fine." Jeongguk massages his temple for a second, then drops his hand to his side. "I'm gonna sit down in the living room. Don't overwork yourself."

He does as he says he will.

Collapsing on the couch, Jeongguk holds his head in his hands.

What started out as a minor headache spiraled into a borderline migraine at this point. But Jeongguk doesn't want to think about it, because he fears focusing on the physical pain will give way to his paranoia resurfacing, and that's the last thing he wants right now - or ever, for that matter. Right now he wants to focus on Jimin. He just wants to focus on Jimin.

Nothing else. He doesn't need to think of the writing. The hallucinations. Nothing. Nothing else. He doesn't need to think. Nobody else. Nobody. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

He doesn't even realize how aggressively he's tapping his foot against the floor. Not until, that is, Jimin enters the living room silently.

"Jeongguk...?"

"Fine, it's fine." Jeongguk swallows his breath and straightens his posture in the blink of an eye. The room spins for a second but fixes itself just as fast. "Are you finished what you're doing?"

Jimin doesn't answer right away. He stands by the other end of the couch, staring at Jeongguk with eyes wide and flooded with tension and distress. He purses his lips.

"What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're not well, are you?"

The genuine concern in Jimin's voice passes through one ear and out the other. Jeongguk shakes his head.

"Is it...the hallucinations you mentioned before?"

The word acts as a triggers that shoots a burning sensation through Jeongguk's brain. He bites his tongue to restrain himself from yelling. He doesn't want to yell.

"Just..." Nervously, Jimin takes the blanket draped over the back of the couch and holds it out to the other boy. "...here. Just lie down for a bit."

"I don't wanna lie down." Jeongguk continues to tap his foot against the floor. Just don't think.

"Jeongguk, please?"

Persistence. His intrusive thoughts and memories, the pain in his head, the brutal rainfall and wind beating against the windows, and last of all Jimin, though his persistence is the only kind one.

Even still Jeongguk finds it hard to accept.

He struggles to close his eyes. The pain peaks. Irritable. He feels so irritable, biting down harder on his tongue, don't speak, don't you dare yell at him, don't you dare.

And maybe it's just that that carries him to sleep. The irritation he's enduring, both physical and mental, bottling up inside his head, trapping his voice there, too, so he won't say anything he regrets. It's suffocating. His dream once he finally falls asleep is suffocating as well. But there's no visual. Just sound, enveloping him, unsettling voices and unrecognizable sounds knocking against the walls of his brain like hammers. But he sees nobody. Nobody, nothing. Only a chilling blackness.

Jeongguk wakes up on the couch - of course, as he did shuffle some in his unpleasant sleep, but not enough to roll off onto the floor. He sits up and scans the living room.

Jimin's living room. He recalls quickly not being at his own home, and registers just as quickly that Jimin isn't here.

The boy had been standing right by the couch before. Jeongguk's sure of it. Tossing his cover aside, he stands up.

The moment he's on his feet he feels the headache return - well, it didn't leave in the first place, so it's more of a reminder. A forceful reminder. Jeongguk draws a sharp breath of air through his teeth.

"Jimin?"

No answer. He looks around the room again, taking a step away from the couch. Then one more, towards the kitchen. The light is still on, he soon notices, so he walks over to the doorway to check if Jimin's there.

He's not. But Jeongguk discovers the faucet was left running, tap water filling an otherwise empty bowl at a gradual rate. He goes to turn the water off. It's eerily quiet now. That running water was the only sound in the whole house, it seems, and frankly Jeongguk isn't a fan of the dead quiet.

Jimin couldn't have just left, could he?

He turns around to face the doorway. Then back around toward the kitchen window above the sink. It's still raining. Not quite as heavily as before, by the sounds of it, but Jeongguk still takes it upon himself to shut the scarcely opened window the rest of the way.

He feels a chill linger.

"Jimin?"

It's frustrating not receiving any response. Nothing at all. From nobody.

Is nobody home??

Jeongguk storms back into the living room, head throbbing with every step. Irritable. He still feels so irritable.

He pulls out his phone from his back pocket.

Several missed messages, but nothing from Jimin. Jeongguk ignores the others and pulls up his last text conversation with the only boy on his mind right now.

-

me
??did you leave the house??

me
it's still raining out so that better not be the case

me
if you do something stupid like catch pneumonia...

me
please answer, i'm allowed to be worried about you

-

He waits a minute. Two minutes. Jimin doesn't see nor reply to the messages, so Jeongguk shoves his phone back into his pocket. Irritable. So irritable.

From where he stands, he peers up the staircase. It's not like Jeongguk to take liberties at someone else's house - excluding Taehyung's - but he's not in his right state of mind at the moment.

The boy makes his way over to the staircase and climbs all the way to the top. It's just as silent up here as it is downstairs. Dim hallway. And silent. It really doesn't seem like anyone is home. Nobody.

Jeongguk turns the corner to the first door on his left. It's open. An empty bedroom. He goes to the next. Not open. But there's no sound, either, and yet Jeongguk knocks anyway, because he sees the light is on from the gap under the door.

No answer. He knocks again. Then he notices, the door is open, but only a crack. So he pushes against it boldly.

And there he finds Jimin. Earphones in, which explains why he couldn't hear the knocking, standing in front of a mirror in nothing more than his boxers. Other than that, his skin is completely exposed. Shirt and jeans on the floor at his feet.

His arms. Scarred. Cuts. Up and down his forearms.

Jeongguk's brain snaps. Just as Jimin's does, and it hits him that someone had opened the door, that his poorly defended space of solitude was invaded. Color drains from his face faster that Jeongguk has ever seen as the boy tears out his earphones. Jimin hides his arms behind himself.

Tries. He tries. In clear-cut panic.

"Jimin..."

Jeongguk's head continues to throb in pain.

"Jimin, why?"

"What are you doing-?"

"What are you doing??"

"Nothing!" Jimin blurts. His voice cracks. "It's nothing, leave me alone-"

Jeongguk doesn't. He can't control himself right now. Everything in his head clashing together in a horrible blend of irrationality, spontaneity of the worst kind, at the worst time. He extends his hand to seize one of Jimin's wrists and pulls it out where he can see.

"Who did this to you?"

He locks gazes with the boy. Trapping those poor, trembling eyes.

"Jimin, did those people do this? Were you lying when I asked if they hurt you?"

"No, no, I wasn't lying, I-"

He's tugging at his arm but Jeongguk can't tell because of how much more force he's using without even realizing.

"Jeongguk-"

"Who did this-??"

"I did!"

"Why?!"

Jimin leans over to try to pick up his clothes on the floor but Jeongguk kicks them away.

"Why would you do this, Jimin??" His voice, polluted by his own suffering, becomes sharp as a blade and attacks without mercy. "What about you isn't enough that you'd do this?? Tell me!!"

It shatters.

Everything.

At the sight of tears welling in Jimin's eyes, at the first one that spills over and down the boy's cheek, everything in Jeongguk's head shatters.

"Jeongguk, please...give me back my clothes..."

The headache subsides just enough for rationality to return.

Jeongguk lets go of Jimin's arm.

He backs out of the bathroom.

And runs.

Down the stairs, hastily grabbing and pulling on his shoes by the door, then racing out of the house and into the rain. He ignores it. Climbing into his car, starting it up, and going.

The rain isn't nearly as heavy now - fortunate for Jeongguk, because at the moment he may not have been bothered to be mindful of it. He doesn't go home. He drives in circles, holding his breath, trying not to do anything reckless. He doesn't want to go home.

So he doesn't. After almost twenty minutes of aimless driving, Jeongguk goes to Taehyung's house.

And shamefully, he knocks on the door.

By the time it's answered, Jeongguk's own tears have welled in his eyes.

Taehyung stands in the doorway.

"J-...Jeongguk...?"

"I screwed up."

They stream down his face. Blending with the cold rainfall.

"Tae, I screwed up...I screwed up so bad-"

"Wh-..." After a moment of speechlessness, Taehyung reaches out to push against Jeongguk's back. "Get inside, go..."

—