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Jisung knew this wasn’t a good idea.
Being awake, at 4:36 in the morning, whereas most of the members would get up within the next two hours - in the kitchen.
Said kitchen light is turned off. This is because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself and what he is doing - in case someone were to come out. Even if he only plans to be here for no more than a few minutes.
Jisung needed to get the job done, he woke up an hour ago. Buzzing with anxiety, thinking and thinking until his brain was sore and he was close to tears.
Yesterday was a bad day. ‘Bad’ has become something that isn’t just his normal meh feeling. He wasn’t depressed, maybe a little. But it would pass, right?
After all, Jisung had a trick up his sleeve. Not really, because cutting the skin under his sleeve was never a good idea, so he stuck to cutting his less obvious-areas.
It was never anything more than surface-level cuts that would heal with none to the faintest of scars.
So maybe it wasn’t a trick up his sleeve, but it was a coping mechanism to hurt himself.
Jisung’s brain got loud and noisy. When he wasn’t on camera and putting up a show, the static got a little too loud and impossible to ignore.
It didn’t happen often, that he would hurt himself. The static was a different story. But it happened this early morning, so he is cutting himself in the kitchen.
A small, silver pocket knife from the drawer. He wants to smuggle it back to his room, but he has enough self control not to do that.
Just one time.
And that one time happens. Unfortunately, Jisung can’t see very well and assumes there is no blood coming out of it. A frown stretches at his face.
It is weird to think Jisung almost always wants blood to come out when he cuts, even if it is just a little. Proof that his pain was real.
It was only one time, once more wouldn’t hurt, right?
So he does it again. The first one was small and on the bone of his wrist, he aimed for the same spot.
But he slips, hitting right next - or maybe on one of his major veins in this spot. It cut into his skin like cake, ouch.
Jisung was used to the burning pain he would have on his very upper thighs and hips. The only reason why he is cutting his wrist, is because he swears to himself it’s a treat. Since he often didn’t because… well, obvious reasons. Jisung could just call this exception a cat-scratch.
Actually, that is a stupid excuse. They don’t own cats, besides Minho, but he won’t blame it on those stubborn little angels. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets there, because he isn’t in the right mind right now.
Immediately, he can make out a dark liquid spilling out as what he can fairly assume is blood. Like, right after he hits it harder than he wanted.
That’s probably not good… Jisung doesn’t have a death wish by any means.
Normally the cuts would take some time before welling up with blood. It was similar when Jisung was hiding everything inside in the public, only for his tears to leak out much later and alone. That is probably why he should have stuck with one cut, but he was impatient and just wanted to see blood to know his pain was real.
Eh, it will probably be fine with a bandage wrapped around it.
The light turns on, however. He missed the footsteps of someone walking down the hallway. Someone stands in the opening where the hallway and kitchen meet.
“Jisung?” Someone groggily says - and that someone is Minho.
“Um.”
Jisung is utterly frozen. Feet glued to the floor, brain on freeze between fight and flight mode, he’s at the correct angle for Minho to see the pocket knife held by his wrist and blood spilling down his arm. Thankfully, it slowed down.
But that is the least of his concern right now.
And Minho’s eyes fly wide open, wide, a gasp, too. “Oh my god-” Within a heartbeat he rushes over, hands shaking. “The fuck are you doing?” It sounds so rude but Minho doesn’t mean it. He is just shocked.
Jisung lets the knife clatter to the floor. Clenching his fists to his sides until they turn white from the pressure.
Jisung feels a semblance of emotion, something that isn’t a game of pretend, tiredness, or plain and bland numbness. It’s panic, and fear, but he can’t move.
Minho huffs. This is an interesting reaction, what was he doing out here? God knows. But he would expect something more eventful, wailing, crying, frantic questions flying out of his mouth.
However, the older knows him a little too well. Knows at least a sliver of his pain, and that forcing Jisung to speak would only cause frustrated tears.
If you were to ask Jisung the thing he hates most about himself, it is his inability to control himself during tense situations. He would have to hold it all in, and cry over the pettiest little things earlier.
He isn’t crying right now. But that’s because he hasn’t uttered a word to Minho. He’s damn close actually crying, however.
“Come,” Minho simply tugs his uninjured wrist to the bathroom. That is, before picking up the nifty knife on the floor and setting it on the counter. Jisung would call out that it should be put away, but he can’t.
They get to the bathroom. Minho applies some alcohol on his two cuts, noting the lack of reaction the younger offers for something so painful. Like a salt-tongue-licked wound. And then applying a bandage over his wrist.
Jisung doesn’t resist. There is no point. He can’t run away, only move forward, but oh how he wishes to pry into what Minho is thinking.
Minho is rapidly blinking his eyes as he sadly holds Jisung’s wrist.
Jisung gets that, rapidly blinking your eyes to prevent yourself from crying. And oh, is guilt a nasty, nasty emotion that inflates in his chest when he sees that.
This was the reason why Jisung didn’t want to tell anyone else about his cutting… it wasn’t an addiction, but if someone found out it would only cause pain. And Jisung just wants to keep it all to himself, and not slow the others down.
“Wait, let me,” unwrapping the bandage, he quickly finds that in the five minutes it has been held to his wrist it hasn’t stopped bleeding a nasty bright red. It has likely been over five minutes.
He’s prying at the cut, trying to be careful, before announcing; “I’m not a doctor, but we should take you to the clinic in case it needs stitches. It looks pretty bad…”
Jisung’s stomach dropped to the floor, hitting all the way down to his guts, anxiety punching said guts. “I don’t know why you would do something like this, I-”
“I promise I didn’t mean to hit that hard, I just couldn’t see.” Jisung finds himself speaking. Yet only a stream of tears trace his face, whereas he would’ve expected himself to scream and thrash and cry with the others.
Suppose Minho just makes him feel safer, not that he didn’t love the others, Minho and him just have a deep bond.
And he probably ruined it.
“Well, either way- oh, hell. There isn’t time for this, you’re coming to the clinic with me.”
Minho only uses ‘clinic’ rather than ‘hospital’ to ward off some anxiety and fear from Jisung. It works.
“But what will we tell them what happened-? No one accidentally cuts themself with a knife at four in the morning.” He makes a valid point.
“Whatever. Make a story and stick to it… I guess…”
Jisung was crying a bit harder now. Minho tugs him out of the bathroom after wrapping his cuts with a bandage again.
Seungmin was awake, meeting them in the hallway. Though the younger instantly notices the state they are both in.
“Don’t.” Minho curtly says while shushing Seungmin. The hallway light is turned on, beaming and glaring which highlights the new blood collected on the bandage of Jisung’s injured wrist. Seungmin obviously notices that.
“Me and Jisungie are going to the hospital to get him stitches, it won’t be long, when the others wake up tell them that.” Minho ushers Jisung out of the dorm. Yet, Seungmin, bless his little heart, asks with worry laced in his vocals.
“What happened?”
Minho glances at Jisung, who is biting his inner lip so hard he can taste metallic blood.
He knew this was why Minho rushed him out of the bathroom, and to the clinic, because any of the members could wake up at any time now.
Jisung is finally feeling emotion, it’s fear, anxiety, and a deep sense of sadness.
Many days were filled with a numbness inside him. He has everything he wants, a job, a life, a friend, yet stupid anxiety ruined everything and created this sense of depression and sadness. Jisung would never be enough for them. He didn’t deserve Stray Kids.
And it’s like a little hummingbird that flies in the sky at lightning-zap speed that that thought mimics. Right now, he doesn’t have the time to deal with his emotions.
“He did- something he… never mind- Just don’t worry Seungmin. It will be fine.” Minho is probably comforting himself more than Seungmin. “I’m sorry, let’s go now Jisung. We’ll be back soon!” He called out to Seungmin, utterly confused and baffled in the hallway.
They disappear out the door after Jisung slipped some shoes on, his outfit was enough to look like he wasn’t sleeping prior to the incident, and Minho was already dressed for the day, since he wakes up at five.
Seungmin didn’t have a chance to say goodbye or ask anymore questions, but something wasn’t right.
Truthfully, he wanted to get some cereal and go back to bed. He might still do that, while pondering.
He was level-headed, like the balance of Stray Kids. He would know when something was severely wrong, so when he goes out into the kitchen to find a small knife lined with blood - just a little, the dots start to connect.
Seungmin would clean it off. A deep frown on his face. Jisung and Minho came from the bathroom, they were the only ones awake, Jisung had a bloody bandage on his wrist, they both looked… well…
Seungmin knew what happened. It was the most logical assumption, even if a sliver of doubt kept invading his mind.
Why would someone do that? Seungmin thought. Frowning. No, why would he do that? Maybe it was an accident, but there’s no evidence that it was anything else. No cutting board, no one but Felix would be insane enough to make an actual meal at four - almost five am.
He did it on purpose. He knew he did.
The stitches pierce through Jisung’s wrist. The second cut below it was fine, it stopped bleeding a long while ago and was very shallow… but the first one was pretty bad.
The numbing gel hardly did anything to prevent the flaring pain as his skin was literally stitched back together, he never got them before, tears streamed down his face, but at least Minho was by his side, holding his other hand.
It was hard to convince the doctors of their story, that Jisung was trying to make some soup. It was almost five and chopped vegetables (especially with the tiny cut below it), so they told the doctor he was just a very early waker. The second cut got more questions, but they stuck to their story.
Whether or not they believed them, it didn’t matter. No doctors prodded any further, but they looked pretty convincing, even if Jisung was grasping on the thinnest frayed thread in his mind not to break down into tears and sob, and cry as the stitching was about to end.
“Almost done here. Stitches don’t take that long,” she cooed. She was the nicest of the doctors they encountered.
Jisung was crying not just from the pain, but after everything. He never wanted someone to find out about his habit, it just hurt them more.
And when the thread was pulled out, his skin disgustingly fused together, she continued. “It’ll take over a month for it to heal into a scar. You’ll come back in six weeks, and we’ll see how it’s doing. Keep an eye on signs of infection, if so, come back right away.”
They nodded. Almost free form this sterile place. A paper was printed out for them, and they were sent back home.
That only took a little over an hour, but it was mostly waiting around.
“Where did Minho and Jisung go?” Changbin asked when he woke up. “I noticed they weren’t in their rooms.”
Seungmin crunched on his cereal. Raising an eyebrow, and when he is done chewing the bite of cereal; “Why were you looking for them?”
Chanbing mimicked the eye-brow furrow. Noting the rudeness.
“Sorry. I’m stressed out. Minho took Jisung to the hospital, apparently, he injured himself or something?” Seungmin gets it out more normal than the curt answer from before.
The rapper’s eyes shot open. Hospital? “Why wouldn’t they tell us?” He gripped his hair a little, stressed out. The thought that one of his musketeers - Jisung, the powerhouse he was, hurt his heart.
Seungmin looks at the ground. The crunchy cereal has turned soggy from the copious amount of milk it drenched into. “I think I know, but I’m not allowed to say. He told me to tell you guys when you woke up.”
“You think?”
“He said they wouldn’t be there for long. They left ten minutes ago, I think.”
Jisung stares at the dashboard in the car. They took a taxi home. Taxi Man doesn’t spare a glance, only once when they first got in.
The doctor insisted his wrist be bandaged up for the first few days.
Minho didn’t look at Jisung. He stared at the ground, leg bouncing like it was going to run away like a deranged horse. Bunny-teeth gnawing the raw skin off his precious pink lips.
They get back, Taxi Man waves before driving off.
When they got back, they saw everyone in the kitchen. Felix was making breakfast.
Jisung’s wrist hurt so fucking much now that the numbing gel off his skin wore of, a little to fast in his opinion.
He can’t show it. He can’t show his pain.
Everyone’s head whips to them. Today was a break, so it was unusual to have everyone here at the same place and time.
“I’m fine, guys.”
“What happened?”
Chan walks up to him, frowning.
“Accidentally hit myself pretty bad,” crap. He had to think fast. “I scraped my wrist a little, and it hit a bit hard so Minho was worried I fractured my wrist or something crazy so he took me to the clinic.”
Damn… Minho thought. That’s a way better excuse.
“Oh. And it’s fine now?”
“Yeah. I cut it a little bit too, and the doctors stitched it up too but I’ll be fine if I keep an eye on it. I didn’t fracture it, but I’ll have to be careful when using it.”
It came out so steady and clear. Maybe a little bit tired, but Minho’s jaw was open a little to his side.
Chan hugged him. “Thank goodness. Felix is making eggs and bacon for breakfast.”
Jisung tucks away all the fear and anxiety behind him in a safe little box in his brain. Right now, he’s with the others and it’s time for the game of pretend.
“We’re glad you’re okay.” Felix said, flipping the bacon on the other undercooked side. Hyunjin was by him, seeming to sneak to steal some of the cooked bacon on the plate beside him. “Yeah, he muttered distractedly.
The others seemed to agree.
Jeongin waited impatiently at the table, next to Seungmin and Changbin who looked sleepy and… different.
Right. Seungmin. He looked a little more eased up, until Jisung and Minho sat beside him to wait for the food.
“Next time you should tell us when you leave, all of us, not just Seungmin.” Jeongin said worriedly. Oh, the poor boy. “Well, Seungmin told us, but still.”
Jisung shrugged, so did Minho. Seungmin didn’t say a word to them, looking upset. Jisung was worried he found out. Changbin was normal-ish. Everyone tuned out and sort of ignored Seungmin, assuming was just having a bad morning.
No one suspected anything was off.
Everything was normal after that.
A week later, “Please.” Minho held Jisung’s hands in between his. They were in his room right now, late at night. “Promise. Promise you’ll come to me if you feel like doing it again, or at least promise to try. If I ever see you do this again - I’m going to tell them.”
It took a lot of convincing Minho this was the only time, even if it was a lie.
Promises, they are made to be broken. Not for a second does Jisung plan to tell someone if he felt like doing it again.
“I can’t stand the thought of you hurting.” Minho said, worry laced in his voice.
And it also took a lot of convincing that he didn’t want to die.
He still hasn't. He was just anxious and needed a way to release it.
Minho cried a little, but Jisung comforted him.
“I promise I’ll try.”
It was a lie. An ugly one. But Jisung didn’t want anyone to take this away from him, it was his only way of regulating himself. He didn’t want to die, but he needed to hurt himself.
It worked. Because he never stopped. Continued to cut his hips now, not everyday, but enough to keep him calm.
The flare of pain was a soothing reminder it would all be okay if he had razors and knives. He just had to be sneakier about it. Some day, it will be discovered. But that wasn’t a problem right now.
It wasn’t a good way to deal with anxiety, but if it works it works.
The bandage was taken off not long ago leaving a nasty scar held by stitches.
When they get back to performing and working on their comeback, managers poke and prod into what happens. Jisung stuck to his story, and despite various speculation online Jisung could work like normal.
“Jisung? - Hannie?”
“Oh. Um, hold on,”
“What the fuck, what the actual fuck.
“I thought I closed the door-”
“Well you didn’t.”
Blood.
Blood on his boxers, and cuts down his side and below them. The razor accusingly in his hands, horrible cheap plastic that clatttered too loud. He thought some razors and knives went missing, at least he still had this one.
Jisung was partially naked. That was the least of his worries, boxers and a tee-shirt. He got out of the shower and cut himself with a razor again.
“I thought someone left the door open so I was gonna close it. I know what you did. Don’t hide it.”
That was Seungmin speaking to him. Angry, hot tears welled up in his swollen and tired eyes.
“Please don’t tell anyone-”
“BANGCHAN!” Seungmin called to the only other member awake at this time.
Oh.