Artwork [Prologue/3]
Title : Artwork
Author : farrafella
Rating : PG-? ( I don't understand ratings lower than R :P)
Genre : Angst
Warnings : Self Harm
Summary : Are you still alive when you're dead on the inside?
A/N : I've never written fanfiction before so don't murder me - I've been a G-TOP reader for a while though :)! Oh and this is unbeta'd...
The small spark of intense pain was familiar and oddly comforting; well odd to anyone besides Jiyong that is. To Jiyong this pain was just another part of his everyday life. Just as every morning he’d brush his teeth, every night he would haul himself up in the bathroom with only a friendly knife for companionship. It was a ritual; a secret one at that. No one would suspect that every morning at the ungodly hour of four Jiyong would wake up and proceed to the bathroom in a zombielike state, before silently crying a day’s worth of tears into the cold, cold sink. No one could even imagine the immense amount of gashes he composed on his back before sinking into a shaking foetal position on the ice cold floor of the bathroom for an hour. The scars were so numerous now that if one saw them they would think they had always been there, and that they had merely just missed them before. There was a reason Jiyong was so grumpy in the mornings.
This night was like any other: A knife, a floor and an overbearing feeling of inadequacy. Jiyong lay on the floor repeating the words, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,’ as if he was attempting to hypnotize himself into believing these two hope inducing words. To him this habit was just a method of coping with the idol lifestyle of loneliness, long hours and the constant need to appear as if there was nothing wrong in the world. Jiyong felt that by religiously purging himself every night he would be able to become the supportive, positive leader that all the members of Big Bang needed. All of Big Bang’s chart topping songs were a result of some of the most painful nights of his entire life. This self destruction was the reason behind Big Bang’s success in Jiyong’s view, so he felt that in order for Big Bang to continue be a top idol group so would these nights in the bathroom.
To others his so called ‘habit,’ if known about, would be seen as an extreme cry for help; not as a method of coping, but a sign of an inability to cope. However the other members, or anyone in fact, had no idea of the pain Jiyong was purposefully putting himself through night after night after night.
When the minute hand on his watch reached twelve Jiyong awkwardly raised himself from the floor. His skin was tight from the tears and his eyes were dark. When he turned to the mirror and saw himself reflected there, a twist of fear spiked in his stomach. He was unrecognisable. His face was the same, he hair was the same, everything was the same except for his eyes. Eyes that now made him want to run, hide, do anything in order to not face the truth these eyes of his conveyed to him through the reflective surface before him. His eyes were dead. There was not a flicker of life residing in them, just darkness that seemed never-ending as it attempted to pull Jiyong into its terrifying depths. Surely Jiyong wasn’t dead, he felt every bit alive: his heart beat rapidly, his breathing continued on and his arms were still shaking. He was definitely alive in the literal sense. When it came to the other meaning, he wasn’t so sure.
Jiyong dismissed the idea and hurriedly returned to the shared dorm room and wrapped himself up in his duvet. Everything was fine. Yet he had trouble believing these words when the usual feeling of serenity that came over him after his nightly sessions was nonexistent. Instead it was replaced with nervousness and paranoia. That night Jiyong didn’t sleep
Chapter 1
Author : farrafella
Rating : PG-? ( I don't understand ratings lower than R :P)
Genre : Angst
Warnings : Self Harm
Summary : Are you still alive when you're dead on the inside?
A/N : I've never written fanfiction before so don't murder me - I've been a G-TOP reader for a while though :)! Oh and this is unbeta'd...
The small spark of intense pain was familiar and oddly comforting; well odd to anyone besides Jiyong that is. To Jiyong this pain was just another part of his everyday life. Just as every morning he’d brush his teeth, every night he would haul himself up in the bathroom with only a friendly knife for companionship. It was a ritual; a secret one at that. No one would suspect that every morning at the ungodly hour of four Jiyong would wake up and proceed to the bathroom in a zombielike state, before silently crying a day’s worth of tears into the cold, cold sink. No one could even imagine the immense amount of gashes he composed on his back before sinking into a shaking foetal position on the ice cold floor of the bathroom for an hour. The scars were so numerous now that if one saw them they would think they had always been there, and that they had merely just missed them before. There was a reason Jiyong was so grumpy in the mornings.
This night was like any other: A knife, a floor and an overbearing feeling of inadequacy. Jiyong lay on the floor repeating the words, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,’ as if he was attempting to hypnotize himself into believing these two hope inducing words. To him this habit was just a method of coping with the idol lifestyle of loneliness, long hours and the constant need to appear as if there was nothing wrong in the world. Jiyong felt that by religiously purging himself every night he would be able to become the supportive, positive leader that all the members of Big Bang needed. All of Big Bang’s chart topping songs were a result of some of the most painful nights of his entire life. This self destruction was the reason behind Big Bang’s success in Jiyong’s view, so he felt that in order for Big Bang to continue be a top idol group so would these nights in the bathroom.
To others his so called ‘habit,’ if known about, would be seen as an extreme cry for help; not as a method of coping, but a sign of an inability to cope. However the other members, or anyone in fact, had no idea of the pain Jiyong was purposefully putting himself through night after night after night.
When the minute hand on his watch reached twelve Jiyong awkwardly raised himself from the floor. His skin was tight from the tears and his eyes were dark. When he turned to the mirror and saw himself reflected there, a twist of fear spiked in his stomach. He was unrecognisable. His face was the same, he hair was the same, everything was the same except for his eyes. Eyes that now made him want to run, hide, do anything in order to not face the truth these eyes of his conveyed to him through the reflective surface before him. His eyes were dead. There was not a flicker of life residing in them, just darkness that seemed never-ending as it attempted to pull Jiyong into its terrifying depths. Surely Jiyong wasn’t dead, he felt every bit alive: his heart beat rapidly, his breathing continued on and his arms were still shaking. He was definitely alive in the literal sense. When it came to the other meaning, he wasn’t so sure.
Jiyong dismissed the idea and hurriedly returned to the shared dorm room and wrapped himself up in his duvet. Everything was fine. Yet he had trouble believing these words when the usual feeling of serenity that came over him after his nightly sessions was nonexistent. Instead it was replaced with nervousness and paranoia. That night Jiyong didn’t sleep
Chapter 1