Chapter Text
Yoongi knew ignoring his friends was bad. He knew he should talk to them, or at least he could tell them he needed some space. But he didn't. He ignored their calls, their texts and he didn't get out of his studio the past three days. He barely ate, only slept when his body would shut down. His mind, however, was fully awake and ready to torture him. He was tired, both mentally and physically, and he wanted it to stop. He wanted everything to stop.
His thoughts kept running in circles, all of them expressing the same thing in different words. He was useless, a waste of space, and he would be better off dead. As much as he tried to tell himself his members would miss him, his thoughts were stronger and he was starting to believe them. After all, why would they need him? Sure, he could rap, but so could Namjoon and Hoseok. His dance skills were average at best, same for his vocal skills. He wasn't anything special. They didn't need him.
He took a shaky breath and got up from his chair, almost falling flat on his face. He could barely feel his legs and he didn't know if the dizziness was because of lack of sleep, lack of food or dehydration. Maybe it was all of them, maybe something else. He didn't care at that point. All he wanted was for the pain to stop.
Yoongi waited until the white spots stopped clouding his vision, then he stumbled towards his keyboard, reaching behind it. He never thought he would touch that little folded piece of paper again. Or what was inside. He hid it a long time ago, when he was hopeful that he would get better and wouldn't need it anymore. But the universe has a wicked sense of humor, he noticed as he found himself sitting on the floor with the unwrapped paper on his lap. He was right back at square one. When he had no one but his own music and a little piece of metal to soothe the mess that was his mind. When he was all alone, before he became a trainee and met the ones that he didn't know would become his family.
As he stared down at the little blade on his lap, all he could think of were the members' disappointed gazes. Logically, he knew the better thing to do was to talk to them about the way he was feeling, just like he promised, but that part was easily drowned by the irrational side that was his depression. The bad thoughts were so strong he could barely hold himself together, let alone fight back and seek help. He could only hear his own voice telling him he was a burden and how tired were his friends of him. After a while, he didn't even try to counterattack anymore. He just kept staring at the shiny piece of metal and contemplated using it. Maybe doing it only once wasn't that bad… Was it?
Nodding to himself, he picked up the blade. He didn't want to bother his friends again with his bad moods. He had to deal with it by himself, so that was exactly what he was going to do. Yoongi took a deep breath and rolled up his sleeve. If you looked closely, you could see very thin scars on his wrist from his past addiction. He was always careful, only cutting in places easy to hide or making nothing more than thin scratches that had a lower chance to scar, as he didn't want to risk anything. The scars on his thighs and hips were bigger and deeper, but the ones on his wrist were barely noticeable, especially with the way he kept wearing his wrist watch all the time. When his friends asked, he told them it was an object with sentimental value, as it was the first ever expensive thing he'd bought for himself with his own money, other than music equipment. It was only something to spoil himself after all he's been through. While that was true, the watch was always there for one more reason. He wanted it to distract everyone from noticing the lines on the inside of his wrist. So far, it worked. But adding new, angry red cuts definitely would expose everything.
Yoongi rolled back his sleeve and instead slid his pants off enough to show his thighs. He made sure to get some tissues and band aids ready, then he picked up the blade again. He hated himself for what he was about to do, but it was the only way to keep his sanity. Or what was left from it. Sighing, he closed his eyes and swiped the blade once, twice, thrice. He cut until he was panting and realized he had gone overboard. Blood was flowing from the wounds he created and he quickly grabbed tissues to clean up before he stained the carpet. The last thing he needed was explaining where the blood came from.
He moved as fast as the stinging in his thighs allowed him and cleaned himself, then hid the bloody tissues in one of the empty energy drink cans he didn't get to throw away. After he cleaned and covered his cuts and made sure his pants and carpet weren't stained, he hid the blade again. Sighing, he sat back down in his chair and kept working, trying to ignore the emptiness he felt in his chest after what went down.
Yoongi woke up confused and in his room. He blinked. The last thing he remembered was trying to figure out what was missing from his song. He was in his studio the whole time and the members didn't have his code. It was the only reason he managed to spend so much time in the first place. Otherwise they would have taken him home by force a long time ago. Probably while yelling his ears off. Something wasn't right. He quietly got up, noticing as he still had his clothes on and letting out a breath of relief. If no one changed him then no one saw the fresh cuts. Even though he knew no one would dare undress him without his consent, he couldn't help but feel nervous. He explicitly told them he didn't want anyone to change him no matter what, as he was scared of them finding his scars. It's been years, yet no one knew about his little habit and he planned to keep it that way.
He slowly walked to his door and around the dorm, trying to find anyone who could explain what was going on. When he saw Namjoon and Seokjin in the living room, he cleared his throat to announce his presence. The two looked at him and Seokjin got up and ran to the kitchen before he even got to say anything. With a raised eyebrow, he sat down on the couch.
“How did you get inside my studio?” he asked, straight to the point.
“We, uh… We asked Sejin hyung to give us your password. We told him you fell asleep there and we weren't sure if you ate, which wasn't exactly a lie...”
Yoongi wordlessly watched Namjoon for any sign that he wasn't telling the truth, but he couldn't find any. His posture and facial expression screamed shame. He figured the leader wasn't happy with going against his members' wishes and he worried Yoongi would be mad at you. He sighed. It seemed that was all he did that day.
“It's okay,” he said getting up. “But I'm gonna change the code again and this time no one gets it, not even Sejin hyung.”
Namjoon quickly glanced up, eyes wide and panicked. “But what if there's an emergency? What if you pass out for real this time?”
“Okay then, I'm gonna give it only to Jungkook. But if any one of you tries to get it out of him, I'm changing it again. Are we clear?”
“Why Jungkook though?”
“Because he's an introvert just like I am and he wants some help producing anyway. I don't want you or Seok to hear my unfinished songs before I'm confident enough in showing them because you're way more experienced than the maknae. Not to mention Hoseok is as loud as Tae. Jimin and hyung are both loud and too worried over anything. Having one of you inside or knowing you can enter as you please won't let me concentrate. Again, are we clear?”
Namjoon nodded and smiled softly. “Yeah, sure, makes sense. Thanks for trying to soothe our anxiety.”
Yoongi smirked, “No problem, anxiety's a bitch.”
He left towards the kitchen as he heard the leader snorting. He figured he could at least eat something, he was home anyway. When he entered, Seokjin was setting up a plate.
“Oh, Yoongi, great timing,” he smiled. “Here, eat something.”
“That's why you left, to get me food?” After he got a nod in response, he shook his head amused. “I could have done that myself, that's why I'm here. But thanks.” At the surprised look on his face, he paused. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing, I just wasn't expecting it. I thought I had to force you to eat.”
Yoongi just laughed and sat down. His friends were dumb sometimes, but they were the only ones who genuinely cared about him. He knew the fans and his family cared as well, but they didn't know everything his friends did and they didn't even know it all. He never planned to let them know something in the first place, but after he released his mixtape he had to explain at least half of it. All he got was understanding and caring glances, so at first he didn't regret it. That happened gradually, as he saw how all of them had to do go out of their ways to help him one way or another. As much as he loved to feel like he mattered, at the end of the day, when the effects of his breakdowns or panic attacks diminished and he could think clearly, he knew he was a burden. When they first found out, he was happy to finally have someone unconditionally love him and be there for him. They talked to him, made sure he was happy, kept him busy when he needed a distraction from his destructive thoughts, or just kept him company in silence when he needed some space but didn't want to be alone. They took care of him in ways no one ever did, not even his own family. But it couldn't go on forever. He couldn't take advantage of their kindness every time he felt bad. He had to do some things on his own as well. That was why he grabbed the blade again after so many years. It was a bad habit and breaking it was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done, but there he was, sitting on a kitchen chair with fresh cuts hidden by the pants he still didn't change from. They were probably stained at that point. He needed to change and wash them as soon as possible.
He finished eating and after a quick thanks to Seokjin and a good night to Namjoon, he went back to his room, ready to change in his pajamas. He took his pants off, sighing in relief as he saw there were no bloodstains. Just as he threw his clothes in the laundry basket, the door to his room opened and there stood Hoseok, his eyes on Yoongi's thighs.
Well fuck.