Shame prickles underneath Yoongi's skin, running down his arms, across his cheeks, pulling tight in his stomach. For a moment, he wishes he hadn't brought it up after all. He's supposed to be the protector, not the one pulling Jungkook down with him. He shouldn't have to deal with this mess.

But he thinks, briefly, With me, and somehow that steels his resolve. Jungkook loves him. This is part of who he is, no matter how much he hates it or wishes it away. All of these moods and the thoughts, they're part of it and they're part of him, and Jungkook fell in love with him anyway. He deserves every part of him, however awful some of those parts are.

So he takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, lets the gentle brush of a thumb against his skin soothe him. "Like..." He bites his lip, trying to find the right words. "It's like when everything's too quiet. When there's no music. No color. Everything just is. And it's so tiring and it just doesn't..."

He drops his gaze, watching the soft stroke of Jungkook's thumb, comfortingly hypnotic. It seems safer than meeting his eyes. "It doesn't feel worth it," he says, "to keep going when everything is like that." For a moment, he's afraid, feeling like he's skirted too close to the truth, except that that is the truth and he wants to tell. It isn't comfortable, but it's honest and he doesn't want to hide either, not from Jungkook. "Like it would be easier not to exist." He frowns. "That sounds worse than it is."