I wake Taehyung up. It’s Saturday. No classes for either of us. Taehyung jolts awake. He looks at me, confused. “Come on, Tae. We’re going on a little trip,” I say. Taehyung frowns. I smile. He sighs and gets up.

Taehyung gives me a look when I get in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” he asks, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“New York Ci-ty,” I say in a sing-song voice. He frowns, confused. I sigh. “Just drive.”

About an hour later, we’re in NYC. One of Taehyung’s favorite places to visit. My absolute favorite. We park―ugh, parking is so expensive here―and get out. I nudge Taehyung. He’s staring at the buildings in awe like he does every time we come here. Takes in everything. “Anywhere you want,” I say. He smiles at me. His first smile ever since… ever since Seokjin died.

He drags me around the city for hours. It’s enjoyable. Eventually, though, he tires himself out. I pull him around. I find a bakery. I tug on his arm. Taehyung freezes. I look at him. He looks at me pleadingly. “Tae, you’re eating,” I growl. He glares at me. “Tae, you’re a skeleton. Nothing but bones and a bit of skin.” My voice softens. “Taehyung, you need to eat. You’re killing yourself,” I whisper. Taehyung pulls his arm. I hold on.

“That’s means a lot, coming from you,” he spits, glaring at me. “You should know.” I flinch, and he succeeds in pulling his arm away. He rubs his wrist. I feel a faint twinge of guilt. I ignore it.

“Tae, that’s why I’m asking you to eat,” I say, exasperated. My voice softens. “I know what it feels like. I know we aren’t the same, I know our reasons are different. But in the end, it’s because we think we can gain something from doing this. For me, control. For you, perfection.” I look him in the eye. “Taehyung, you’re perfect. You don’t need to do this to be perfect.” Taehyung turns around. I catch the glimmer of tears in his eyes.

“…You don’t understand,” he whispers. “I’m fat. I’m ugly. You can’t see the fat. I see fat everywhere, and I know it’s not there. I know. But I’m not as strong as you.” His voice breaks as he turns to face me. “I can’t get out. I can’t stop.” Tears shine in his eyes. I reach for his arm. He moves away.

“Tae…,” I whisper. I look at my feet. “Tae, please. If… if not for yourself, than for me.” Taehyung whirls around.

“Stop!” he cries. “Stop it! Just leave me alone!” He turns and runs. I pale.

“Tae! Taehyung, stop!

“Taehyung!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Jiminie!”

“Shut up!”

I’m crying. Jimin stands in front of me, furious. “I thought I told you not to call me that, brat,” he snarls. I cower against the wall.

“I’m sorry, Jimin,” I whimper. He hisses softly as he rubs his leg. It’s covered with a maze of scars. There’s a scar across his face, and his once gentle face is now contorted with anger. I look at his leg. “D-Do you want me to go get something for your leg?” I ask. He growls.

“I’m fine,” he mutters. “Go away.” I hang my head and leave the room. I go to the living room and peek around the corner. My father isn’t there. I go to the counter and grab a plate.

I knock on the locked door. Jimin opens the door. He looks annoyed. I hold out the plate. A plate full of Oreos. Jimin’s favorite snack. Jimin blinks in surprise and I smile hesitantly.

He smacks it out of my hand. The plate shatters on the floor. I flinch and look over my shoulder. I hear heavy footsteps. Jimin retreats into his room, and I gather the shards of the plate in my hands. I wince when a shard cuts my hand.

Then I feel a sharp kick to my side. “What are you doing, brat?” my father roars. He looks at the shattered plate. “Clumsy failure,” he snarls. He kicks me again. I hear the door creak open. My brother’s face peeks out. I look up at him hopefully. He’ll help me, won’t he?

“He threw the plate at my door,” Jimin states nonchalantly. I pale.

“Jiminie…,” I whisper. I look at him. “Jiminie… help me.” He looks down at me coldly.

“I told you to call me Jimin,” he says. I look away. I hear the door close.

I can barely walk the next day.

Love doesn’t protect you. Love isn’t everlasting. Love isn’t unconditional.

Love is a lie.