A/N: So sorry for not updating in agesss ahhhh I will try to write more :3 thanks for all the subsribers and views so far ^.^

Jimin’s laugh ran through the bedroom. He was in that lovely, bubbly mood that always made you smile no matter where or when. You both were sitting on your bed watching the Friends box set that you had bought last year.

Jimin had nearly fallen off the bed which just resulted in the both of you laughing uncontrollably. Once you had regained your composure, you turned off the telly and laid back on your bed, motioning for Jimin to lie next to you.

Often you both would just lie there and think and wonder about life. Life; the thing you had both tried to end only one month earlier, the thing that had gotten considerably better since the two people who hated it the most had become linked by pure luck.

Since being discharged, your relationship had gotten better and better. Neither of you had talked about that kiss, but it was something you thought about a lot. It was just the spark… it was something you had never felt before – something you wanted to feel more of. But you couldn’t. What you and Jimin had was purely friendship, nothing more, nothing less.

You two understood each other. He had stopped you from cutting and you had stopped him from making himself sick.

You were each other’s remedy.

“Jimin?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Yes, y/n?”

“You have a nice laugh.”

He snorted and put his arm around you. “Thank you very much.”

You and Jimin were both people who barely even knew the meaning of the word ‘laugh’ before meeting each other, and now it was just like a disease whenever the two of you were near each other.

Jimin wrapped his arms tighter arm you and buried his face in your hair.

“I have to go,” he mumbled. Please stay.

He had to go to his band practise. You sat up on your bed and pulled him up too. “Okay.” Don’t go.

Jimin pulled you into a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And I’ll bring my ‘nice laugh’ with me.” You both smiled goofily at each other and then pretty soon you were left to the familiar deafening silence of your room.

By force of habit, you knelt down by your bed and pulled out the little box that had your past life in it. The knife and your razors, still just as sharp, still just as lethal.

You rolled up your sleeve and was greeted with the familiar patterns that scarred your arms. Memories. You stood up and went to your bathroom, arms still bare, blades still out.

What am I doing?

You looked at yourself in the mirror and you could see the huge difference in yourself. You had allowed your hair to grow, you had gained weight which made you look finally healthy. If anyone saw you at a distance, they would think you were a perfectly imperfect teenager. Your arm looked as if it had been attacked, and it had finally given up the battle with the blades. It was done.

You stood over the bin and dumped your blades, a huge amount of relief flooding out of your body.

You walked back into your room and scouted for something in your drawer. Found it!

It was the picture of you and Jimin that had been taken at the funfair. It was your favourite picture because neither of you were looking at the camera, but instead were looking at each other, both looking just as vulnerable as each other.

You carefully placed the picture in the box and smiled contently. That picture looked much better than those blades. Jimin was now the thing that you turned to after a bad day, the one thing that could make you feel better… just much less blood and no more scars.

The perfect remedy.