More nights than not Yoongi lies in bed, awake and in a cold sweat, fighting to catch his breath and control his racing heart beat as his subconscious mind reminds him of his mortality. During times like these he used to reach over into his nightstand to grab the orange bottle containing his sweet relief. But now it no longer works, his body and mind have gotten too used to the artificial help for it to do anything helpful anymore. Now he just lies there clutching at his arms, digging his nails into his pale skin. The crescent shapes creating wave-like patterns on his body. Sometimes he would trace the marks after in realization of how drastic the attack was.

Without his meds his mind begins to cloud as his breath quickens. Yoongi gasps and jolts uprights. Not again, no more. It feels like he’s being held underwater with no way to the surface. His mouth keeps opening and closing in an attempt to get some oxygen to his heart and his brain. Maybe if he could do a simple task like that he would be okay. But he can’t because he is stupid and incapable of doing anything simple.

His mind is racing with a million thoughts a second. His grip on his arms tighten as each invasive thought hit him. I’m not good enough. I’m worthless. I’m wasting my time on this Earth. I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to be remembered. I don’t want to be meaningless. I don’t want to die. Not good enough. Not good enough.

Not good enough.

Hot tears prick at the back of his eyes as he holds on tighter, hoping that the pain would distract his mind from the anxieties that have grown so powerful that they dictate his every thought as soon as the clock hits one. His mind is telling him to go find someone, he needs to find a person, anyone. He needs to be comforted and held and told that everything is going to be okay. He is not worthless, he is valuable. He needs someone to tell him those things because Yoongi is too weak to believe in himself. There hasn’t been a time in his life when he hasn’t been weak.

A silent cry forms on his lips as he leans forward in his bed. Everything is too hard. He’s too frail. I can’t do it. I can’t do it anymore.

The five words become a mantra in his mind, repeating and repeating until those are the only words heard among the white noise of his self-hateful thoughts.

It’s only when he feels two warm hands on his cheeks does he realize that he had been murmuring the mantra under his breath.

When he feels the hands he jerks backwards and into the frame of the bed. His breath catches in his throat and Yoongi’s eyes widen as fresh, hot tears run down his face. Don’t touch me, don’t look at me. He grabs at his blanket and pulls it up so he could hide from the intruder.

A smooth voice fills the tense air surrounding them,“Yoongi-hyung, it’s alright. I’m right here with you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
Yoongi’s mind races; trust the boy, don’t trust him. He’ll help, it’s okay. Slowly he removes the blanket from his possession and looks up at the boy now sitting in his bed. Jimin. He can trust Jimin, he’s soft and kind. He’s not rough like the other one.

Slowly, Yoongi opens his mouth, “I’m scared.” The sound that comes out is shaky and broken. More tears roll down his face, warming up the older tears stains. Jimin can feel his heart breaking at the sight of his hyung crumbling right in front of him. He reaches a hand out slowly to give the boy in front of him some time to react before he actually touches him.

“You’re going to be okay,” Yoongi allows Jimin to touch his shoulder. Warmth blossoms and spreads when Jimin touches him. It feels nice, distracting.

Yoongi leans into it and allows Jimin to pull him into his embrace. He smells like the new shampoo they just bought, he smells like the woods. In his arms Yoongi can feel every muscle tense and relax. He can feel Jimin’s perfect hands running circles on his back.

Jimin is the epitome of perfection and Yoongi is nothing but a speck of dirt on the floor of a crusty public bathroom.

Worthless.

Worthless.

It gets louder and louder until Yoongi is burying his head into Jimin’s neck so he could escape. The same rough voice is repeating in his head until it’s screaming. His head is pounding and he wants nothing more than for it all to end.

“He’s right,” Yoongi murmurs, “I’m worthless.”

Jimin’s entire body tenses up as he processes what the man in his arms just revealed to him. It hurt. It hurt to know that the person he looked up to and loved so dearly was hurting like that. All because of one person. The man who hurt him was going to pay.

“You are absolutely not worthless,” Jimin’s voice didn’t waver, it was steady, “You are one of the kindest, most thoughtful, hardworking people I have ever met. I am so proud of you hyung and I only wish that I could be half as great as you one day.” At the end of every sentence Jimin punctuates it with a kiss on his forehead, his nose, and both his cheeks. “I love you so much Min Yoongi.” Jimin held the smaller boy tight against his body as he kissed his wet lips.

Yoongi nodded. When Jimin pulled away he mumbled something under his breath causing the younger boy to tighten his hold on him. One hand curled into his hair and the other rubbed his back, “I got you baby. I’ll love you enough for the both of us until you can.”

I don’t love myself.