"Sometimes the urge to write a poem is so much stronger than the urge to write a suicide note," Kazimir said looking down at her phone screen and then up to see Jimin staring at her with dark solemn eyes.

"Isn't that what Blythe Baird said," She continued, "In her poem Guilt doesn't-"

"Guilt doesn't live here anymore." Jimin finished for her.

Kazimir nodded looking down at the phone again. Jimin's hands were still laying flat on the table where Kazimir had taken her hands back from his grip and Kazimir noticed ink blots all over them.

"It's a definite way to put it I think, because have you ever looked back at any of your poems and thought about why you've written them and how they could all just as easily be suicide notes," Kazimir stated while her eyes tried to connect the inkblots on his hands to form constellations.

Jimin shook his head. "I don't think I have ever wanted to write a note like that." He said, purposefully avoiding the word suicide. It was the ugliest word in his vocabulary.

Kazimir's eyes shot up at him as if she couldn't believe her ears and she leaned forward putting her hands back on the table.

"Then why do you write?" She asked.

Jimin looked down at her hands, the bandages peeking from under the sleeves and it was the first time he saw the golden band on her engagement finger.

His heart dropped and his eyes shot up to look at the side of her neck again. The hickey was now blocked by her hair but he could see it was there.

He was sure it wasn't there when he saw her at the hospital the previous day, neither the ring nor the hickey and definitely not the bandaged wrists.

But she was wearing the same clothes as if she was stuck at that moment, the moment where she lost her mind for a second and was ready to run a blade down her face.

"Are you- uh- are these the same clothes from yesterday?" He blurted bracing himself for the consequences of his blunt words but he needed to know what was going on.

Kazimir's eyes went wide and she looked down at her outfit as if she was seeing it for the first time and it dawned on her that he was right, that she had stupidly enough put back her stained clothes.

She cursed herself under her breath, embarrassment climbing up her face at forgetting to actually put on clothes like a damn human being.

"I should probably go home." She murmured standing up and Jimin stood too.

"I'll walk you."

"No, it's fine." I am too embarrassed. No wonder Taehyung is disgusted by my existence.

She picked up her phone and the book and started to turn around but stopped.

"Uh- you should give me your contact number at least. If we want to make the pretending work." She suggested but she was already having second thoughts.

"If we're going to pretend to be a thing then wouldn't that," Jimin said pointing to the ring on her finger, "Cause confusion?"

In reality, he just wanted to know why she was wearing it if all Taehyung wanted was to call off an engagement.

Kazimir's eyes yet again whirred to her finger as if she didn't know what Jimin was referring to and it hit her that the ring Taehyung put on her the previous night was still there.

Can you be a bigger forgetful mess? No wonder Minho always said you had Alzheimer's. She shot at herself taking the ring off.

"This will be gone for good too, don't worry," Kazimir said shoving it into her jean pocket.

Jimin tried to read the atmosphere but he came up short so he just fished a pen out of his bag and jot down his number on a napkin and handed it to her but his eyes went wide when she balled it up and shoved it into her pocket aside from the ring.

She turned around and started walking away carrying what was left of her self worth while her mind tried to process how she had not noticed she had put on clothes from her hamper.

She clearly remembered putting on her baggy shirt and sweatpants after the shower and she also remembered falling asleep with wet hair on top of her sheets because her body couldn't even carry her weight under them.

Later she woke up on the sound of someone banging on her door and the first thing that registered with her was the fact that her wrists were on fire. They were warm and tender to the touch and boiling living hell at every small movement. The banging continued but she ignored it long enough to dig through her drawers for pain-relief patches but when she couldn't find any, she squirted half a tube of menthol joint pain-relief ointment on each wrist before wrapping them up with bandages to keep the paste secure for maximum effect.

She remembered getting up and answering the door but the rest was a blurred image littered with a few hazy memories of Taehyung's hand smacking against her face.

He slapped her for saying something she shouldn't have and she tried to remember what was it exactly.

She stopped walking and looked up to see she had taken a wrong turn and now she would have to take a detour but her mind was itching from the inside out; a sensation she was familiar with when she tried to remember certain events that her mind didn't think were worth storing in her memory.

She looked down towards her wrists which were covered with the bandages and she so much wanted to rip the wrists apart.

You had to really hurt so bad? She shot at them because the pain was the reason her mind didn't turn on the recording button.

Chronic pain often effected the brain in ways that were hard to put into words but as far as Kazimir was concerned, she thought it didn't really need any big-word scientific explanation for the fuck ups it often reveled in.

When her body was in too much pain, that's all the brain ever registered. The pain receptors in the brain ruled above all and it was hard for her to act as a properly sane functioning human being who made proper rational decisions because her mind was just focusing on the pain.

She remembered Taehyung putting the ring on her finger but something was off about that memory as well.

Hadn't I said I would let go of him? Set him free? She wondered but she also remembered waking up topless and tangled in his sheets.

Her feet halted on that memory and she felt all the blood in her body rushing up to her cheeks at finally remembering what she'd done.

Her hand came up snake into her hair and she ruffled the strands erratically trying to shake her head awake and an exasperated groan left her lips.

Tears welled up in her eyes out of frustration and disappointment and she was so done with herself to the point it was starting to look like her mere existence was a joke. A sick joke.

Everybody got to have a hearty laugh while she stood open-mouthed wondering what was up.

' I am letting you go Tae, really, but there's one thing I want in return.'

Fuck you Kazimir, you and your petty self! She shot at herself thinking back to her conversation with Taehyung.

She gave him his freedom in return for being held, for feeling like she was worth being held and caressed and touched and made love to.

She earned the slap that came across her face when she uttered what she was asking him. But it wasn't enough to stop her from stooping as low as she did.

Her feet gave way and she sat down in the middle of the street, her back against a shop wall, and couldn't help the silent sobs that escaped her. She put her head in her hands and cried into them like there was no tomorrow, and maybe for her, there really wasn't.

"What the hell are you talking about? Are you listening to what you're asking? How can you even think I would concede to your level of pettiness?"

"Taehyung please, that's all I want and I'll talk to everyone. I'll tell them I am in love with that writer and I will even tell them-"

"Don't. Don't put me in such a sick position. If that's the price I have to pay for you to let go then I don't fucking want it anymore. You wanted to become Mrs. Kim so bad didn't you? Come here."

"Taehyung my wrist hurts, don't grip it so tightly, where are you taking me?"

"Here. You wanted this, didn't you? Here, let me put the fucking ring on you. Happy now?"

"Why are you so mad? You can't just tell me you want this joke of engagement now when I've decided to let it go. It took so much of me to do that, you have no idea. We'll both go our ways, all I want is-"

"You just think you do, you don't really want it. There's still so much of your life ahead of you Mir, you're just twenty-one. Don't ruin us like that."

"We're already beyond repair. Don't act like the next person I fall for will not see me the way you see me because the truth is that's all there is to see. Under all this skin, I am unworthy of being touched-"

"You are worthy Mir, trust me. You are worthy of being loved and held and touched-"

"Then touch me."

Kazimir's sobs turned to hiccups now that the conversation was done playing in her head. It was the peak of her irrational impulses that a flare had made her do and she couldn't believe despite Taehyung's constant convincing she still woke up stamped with his hickeys all over her.

She had lost all her self respect to her illness and now Taehyung knew he had made the sensible decision of never making her a permanent part of his life.

Don't ruin us, he had said but Kazimir made sure they never even made eye contact ever again, not even by mistake.

Her phone started ringing but she ignored it and didn't even bother to look at the screen. Instead, she pulled at the patches on her wrists rather forcefully, detaching them from her skin and balling them up before throwing them away. Her wrists gave away a strong scent of lidocaine and menthol and she roughly started to rub them off on her shirt as if that would somehow reduce the waft.

The previous night was crystal clear to her now and she knew how she didn't notice she had put on stained clothes. She was too busy running away from the one she woke up next to.

Her wet hair had dried up but it looked like it's signature just fucked self except for this time it wasn't acting and Kazimir didn't think twice before chopping it all away and then running out the house.

She took herself to the bookstore and spend four hours mindlessly strolling among the aisles and staring at books until the memories were all wiped clean and replaced by nothingness.

Until she walked into Jimin who reminded her she was wearing her mental fuck up as a proud black flag.

Her phone rang again and she ignored it and leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes to relive the agony she put Taehyung through the previous night.

Jimin thought among all the names he had named Kazimir with, whether the baker girl or the poetess or the solar system or the black hole or the lunar eclipse, he never thought he would one day name her a madwoman.

But he changed his mind once he saw her sitting down in the middle of the street and crying her heart out only to follow it by mindlessly staring at passers-by and the sky.

But he was surprised to see that she had mercilessly detached and thrown the bandages away.

Were they not bandages? Was I wrong? He thought to himself but his question was answered when she raised her hand to run it through her hair and he didn't see any noticeable scars on the wrist.

Owing to his nature of studying people he had decided to follow her and watch her actions but he finally walked to her and sat down and leaned his head back as well, mimicking her pose.

"This view is really worth sitting here forever and staring at it." He commented looking at the sky. There was nothing special about the blue length of it but he needed to start a conversation somehow.

Kazimir hummed in response not tearing her eyes away from the stretch of blue that graced the late morning of Prague.

Even ordinary skies like this looked like they were up to something beautiful when the various cathedral rooftops stood proudly asking for a worthy skyline. It was the city of wonders and Kazimir had not yet been disappointed by a single skyline.

They sat in silence, each tangled in their own thoughts until Jimin spoke.

"I may be wrong, but you look like you need serious help. I thought you cut yourself." He admitted eyeing her pale wrist now that the bandages were gone.

"Why would I do it myself when so many other people are willing to do it for me? Cut me open till all life is drained out." She reasoned in a voice that was an octave deeper than her normal voice due to crying.

She started to sense dust moving around in her eyes as if she was in the middle of a sandstorm and a strange dry itch started up in the lower lid of her left eye.

"What you allow is what continues," Jimin stated turning to her.

Kazimir's eyes turned towards him as well and they came face to face and he continued.

"Don't act like this life is just sitting around the corner waiting for every chance to give you hell. Maybe there is hell in certain corners, and maybe you walk through them every day thinking there is no other way around them. But look at yourself today, you look like you've lost your way and surprise, there is no hell here, or there, or a hundred other corners you never bothered to turn just because you don't know who are you without whatever pain you make yourself go through."

Kazimir's eyes pierced through his skull at the audacity of his words but Jimin didn't budge. He was sympathetic for people who were having a hard time but what he never tolerated was when people actively started thinking that their pain is all that's defining them. He had no idea what was going on with Kazimir, but he thought it was about time someone knocked some sense into her head.

"I am starting to feel very sorry for everyone who reads what you write."

"You don't like what I am saying, don't you? Good. It means I am right." He said turning away from her eyes to look up at the sky.

Kazimir turned away from him too and did the same.

"I would never cut myself." She whispered.

"Obviously," Jimin said reaching up with his hand and tapping the little cut on her forehead.

A shiver ran down Kazimir's spine and her own hand came up to touch the little scar hoping it wouldn't be there but it was.

"I want a sane writing partner because I am so done with getting rejected all the time and you're too busy pushing the writer label away from yourself not knowing you have a gold mine at your fingertips," Jimin told her as his eyes turned back to look at her again. He realized he couldn't look at her for too long sitting so close to her and had to turn away every few seconds. Her features were ten times more overwhelming this close and he despised being overwhelmed.

"So you're telling me you write for money?" Kazimir shot at him.

"So you're telling me you would rather sit around and be a pathetic y/n all your life crying on streets while I am offering you the perfect escape?"

"Wow, aren't you desperate much?" Kazimir noted running her hand through her hair.

Jimin noticed it was a habit of hers, to continuously run it through her head as if she was arranging her thoughts.

"Aren't you desperate for an escape yourself?"

Kazimir weighed his words even though she didn't like any of what he had said but the pathetic victim remark was what pricked at her mind gears the most.

She thought about the brief timeline of what her life had become in the recent while all the way till the image of Taehyung's face hovering over her and his hands wiping the word stop from her vocabulary and she shut her eyes repeating to herself that she's the one who had asked for it.

Pathetic, her mind shot at her and she agreed with it and with Jimin and with the audience who thought her life was the best joke they've ever heard.

Minho cautiously closed the door to his room as not to wake Naomi up and treaded to the kitchen to make himself a snack.

Naomi was showing signs of tiredness and too much nauseating the past two weeks and though she told Minho it was normal but the surprise he got at the hospital after weeks of wondering whether it was a boy or a girl was making him want to bounce to the moon and back.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and called Kazimir again just to make sure she was okay because, despite his happiness, he knew she wouldn't have taken the news lightly.

She didn't answer his calls so he gave up and sent her a text instead.

Call me.

He knew she would never call back but he didn't want the guilt of not checking up on her eat him up alive.

He rummaged through the cabinets and took out the frying pan to fry some potato sticks for himself and he was reminded of how Naomi always scoffed at the fact that he didn't like normal french fries but instead preferred to peel and slice up fresh potatoes to fry.

He couldn't help it because since Kazimir had introduced him to the bliss that was freshly sliced, fried, and seasoned with black pepper and cinnamon potato sticks, he never liked regular french fries anymore.