Butterflies

    Jungkook frequently thought about how he unlucky he was to get stuck with his life.  Although he often thought it was more than merely bad luck, he tried to make the best out of what he was given even if it meant crying sometimes.  Getting ed out of your mind was supposed to be a good thing, and maybe he was taking it for granted, but having up his and in his mouth for twelve hours a week was starting to lower his self-esteem.  No matter how many times they told him how gorgeous he was and what a good he was giving, he knew that he was just a toy there to aid in other people’s pleasure.  And every time he thought that the next person who walked would be different, it always ended with sore joints and bruises in the shape of fingerprints around his throat and hips.  After his most recent session, Jungkook found himself staring in the mirror at a particular pair of parallel bruises on his collar bone that looked like butterfly wings.  It was beautiful in its own way he guessed, even though it was a sadistic intention by a middle aged man with family problems.  Almost every time he came back, Yoongi was there, waiting on the other line for Jungkook to purge his shaking body from the experience.

No amount of money was worth the sick feeling in his stomach after the thirty minutes were up and he was left on dirtied bed sheets, rocking back and forth with his head in between his legs.  Today was no different, and Jungkook wondered why no one cared that he was already red and bruised for them.  For them, the words sounded so foul; that he belonged to someone, like a dog.  The answer to his question came after his second session, when his client gathered his pants without saying a word or even making eye contact with him.  No one cared because he meant nothing to them.  He was a part of a daily routine for some, whoever underneath them at the end of the day, because as long as they were given a good time; it didn’t matter who it was on the receiving end.

    After work he didn’t usually like to take showers until he got home, but today he was feeling exceptionally lethargic after a particularly rough session with a new client.  The man walked in Jungkook’s room with a sort of apologetic swagger, he had warm eyes and part of Jungkook wondered why someone like him was here.  He was also quick to remove his clothing, he wasn’t far from attractive, and it was a relief to see someone that was closer to his age than most, so Jungkook welcomed it.  If Jungkook wasn’t so tired during the session, he wished he could have done more to please the man, just enough to perhaps get his name as a reward.  None the less, he left like all of the others, even though the man looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world for a fraction of an hour.  After such an event, Jungkook willed his frustration out through a hot shower in the facility of his work for the employees.  It was a clean bathroom supplied with everything that one needed to cleanse, from soap to aftershave.  

    When he finished, Jungkook dried himself and changed into a clean pair of sweatpants and one of his softest t-shirts.  As he left the facility, he was greeted by a gust of cool air from outside, trying to distance himself from his work as fast as possible.  Thankfully he didn’t live too terribly far, it was just about a twenty minute long walk, shorter if he ran.  So he did.

    By the time he came to his apartment, he was out of breath.  He spend a few seconds collecting himself before bending down to retrieve the front door key from underneath the doormat and slipping inside.  All of the lights seemed to be turned off, which meant he was in the all clear.  What he didn’t notice was a pair of eyes following him to his door. Cool air made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but nothing more than a chill bothered him.  After closing the door behind him silently, he came to the conclusion that his grandmother was asleep, not that she would have even questioned where he was out until such an ungodly hour. Jungkook had been working for almost two months now, hoping to move out within the year, and she had yet to question his disappearance after school.  He hoped to keep it like that as long as possible.  The air in the apartment was still and he felt although if he were to even breathe too loudly, the sound could travel to even behind closed doors.  He didn’t feel the need to call Yoongi tonight, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Jungkook clutched his stomach in the sudden realization that he hadn’t eaten anything since this morning.  He was sure he could have waited out the hunger pains until the next day, and he would have done so if it weren’t for a strong smell coming from the kitchen.  He walked to the other room with one hand on the wall to guide him, his vision now becoming less splotchy and more adjusted to the darkness of his home.  He shuffled to the light switch and flipped it on carefully, making sure to stay exactly where he was.  On the counter in front of him was a china bowl, he took a hesitant step forwards to peer at the contents, which consisted of noodles and vegetables with a pair of chopsticks resting on the lip of the bowl.  Without much more reluctance, he grasped the bowl in both hands, to find that the platter was still warm.  It wasn’t scalding, but there was a dull heat at the bottom that warmed Jungkook’s fingertips.  It was a pleasant surprise to say the least, but what frightened him was that this meant that his grandmother was awake recently and expected him home around the same time he arrived.  His heart beat in his chest as he took a few bites of the dish and retreated back to the living space couch, pulling the red throw blanket that was kept on the couch over his body. He didn’t have the energy to think more about the odd coincidence and once he finished, he fell asleep, wet bangs plastered to his forehead.

Sleep did not come easily to him that night, like any other night it started peacefully.  He had no idea how long he was asleep until he jerked awake - sitting straight up, his body hot and covered in a sheen of sweat.  Noises were ringing in his ears and a sharp buzz rattled his bones.  He felt dizzy and his heart was pounding in his chest.  From guilt?  Couldn’t be, what was there to feel guilty about?  A lot of things actually, Jungkook decided, his hands shaking as he tried to steady his breathing.  In his bout of terror, he raised his hand to his mouth, biting the backside to keep himself from screaming out loud and disrupting the sleep of anyone in his apartment complex.  His chest heaving, he closed his eyes, slipping back into the couch, warm from his body heat.  The throw blanket had fallen off his body and onto the floor in his fit, he reached towards the ground to retrieve it, hands shaking.  He grasped the red knitted blanket and pulled it over his shivering body.  He felt more safe than being in the open air, but more afraid that someone could merely rip the covering from him, exposing his body curled up.  It was irrational, he knew, but it was like a child’s nightmare of a monster under their bed.  It wasn’t real, and quite frankly, (although he hated to admit it) Jungkook struggled with reality.

Although he was, again, wrapped up and breathing somewhat regularly, he couldn’t find it in himself to fall back asleep.  It was a new realization that he was afraid of sleeping after such an event.  It was frightening to completely lose consciousness for such a long period of time.  So he lay in the silence of the house, eyes open and scanning the perimeter of the room for any movements.  He tried to remember what Yoongi had told him last time he couldn’t sleep, telling him to breathe deeply and close his eyes (although it was different because Jungkook was completely alone now, no human furnace pressed against his back and arms hugging his frame tightly).  Wide awake, he was hyper aware of every sound around him and the tension was driving him insane.  He covered his ears and sunk further into the couch, drowning out the small noises that seemed to have buried their way permanently into his ear drum.  His best friend’s voice had been so soothing whenever he needed the praise most, and a part of him was begging to dial the number he knew by muscle memory for the reassurance.  It was seemingly impossible for him to fall asleep now, eyes strained and the gears in his head spinning furiously.  He covered his head underneath the blanket, masking his sight.  There had to be only a few more hours until sunrise, and even then he would be too early to actually get ready for the day.  He came to the conclusion, after a few painful minutes,  he would stay up until he was physically able to no longer.  When he did finally find himself nodding off, he embraced the inevitable feeling of falling.

The next morning Jungkook woke up to shouting.  He had overslept, again.  He opened his eyes to find his grandmother hovering over him, yelling about his sleeping habits.  He appreciated her concern, but he jumped every time she spat a sentence from , wincing as if her words were daggers on his skin.  He closed his eyes, the bright light giving him a headache, nodding to please her, as if he heard her past the noise. Thank God it was Saturday, and Spring Break was coming up soon.  In a few weeks he would have enough money for plane fair and basic necessities to move out.  Pity, he thought,  to leave her here like this.  

In two hours Jungkook was ready for the day, content with a large flannel and jeans that clung to him loosely.  He wasn’t out to make a fashion statement, but he thought he looked nice, especially for a chilly day.  He didn’t particularly have anywhere to go, and he didn’t mind just wandering, so he did just that.  Walking took his mind off of so many things, his plan of running away, work in a few hours, and the dull ache in his neck from the night before.   It was days like this when he thought about his life, his situation.  What else could he do in the meantime but worry about the next years of his life and try to sort things out?  Almost everything was out of his control a few months ago, but now he felt like he had a better grasp on his future, although the image was shaky.

Was he worried about his deteriorating state of mind and reason?  Yes, but there wasn’t much he could do but wait it out until he supported himself outside of his dying grandmother’s apartment; and then Yoongi came as a god send, picking him up from the hell hole of his mind.  It was comforting to just sit and listen to the older boy breathe while they watched stupid tv at his house, admiring his every movement, aspiring to be such a delicate person as him.  Jungkook thought he knew Min Yoongi, and maybe he did, to a certain extent of course, but there were things that Yoongi couldn’t admit to himself, more or less begin to explain to Jungkook.