now it all makes sense to me :)
now it all makes sense to me :)
like/reblog if u save
reqs r open
yoonkook and the guitar ~ ✨🎸
RM ( BTS leader ) Speach 2020💜
"Thank you, Mr. Secretary General, UNICEF Executive Director, Excellencies and distinguished guests from across the world.
"My name is Kim Nam Jun, also known as RM, the leader of the group BTS. It’s an incredible honour to be invited to an occasion with such significance for today’s young generation.
"Last November, BTS launched the “Love Myself” campaign with UNICEF, building on our belief that “true love first begins with loving myself.” We have been partnering with UNICEF’s #ENDviolence program to protect children and young people all over the world from violence.
"Our fans have become a major part of this campaign with their action and enthusiasm. We truly have the best fans in the world!
"I would like to begin by talking about myself.
"I was born in Ilsan, a city near Seoul, South Korea. It’s a beautiful place, with a lake, hills, and even an annual flower festival. I spent a happy childhood there, and I was just an ordinary boy.
"I would look up at the night sky in wonder and dream the dreams of a boy. I used to imagine that I was a superhero, saving the world.
"In an intro to one of our early albums, there is a line that says, “My heart stopped…I was maybe nine or ten.”
"Looking back, that’s when I began to worry about what other people thought of me and started seeing myself through their eyes. I stopped looking up at the stars at night. I stopped daydreaming. I tried to jam myself into moulds that other people made. Soon, I began to shut out my own voice and started to listen to the voices of others. No one called out my name, and neither did I. My heart stopped and my eyes closed shut. So, like this, I, we, all lost our names. We became like ghosts.
"I had one sanctuary, and that was music. There was a small voice in me that said, ‘Wake up, man, and listen to yourself!” But it took me a long time to hear music calling my name.
"Even after making the decision to join BTS, there were hurdles. Most people thought we were hopeless. Sometimes, I just wanted to quit
"I think I was very lucky that I didn’t give it all up.
"I’m sure that I, and we, will keep stumbling and falling. We have become artists performing in huge stadiums and selling millions of albums.
"But I am still an ordinary, twenty-four-year-old guy. If there’s anything that I’ve achieved, it was only possible because I had my other BTS members by my side, and because of the love and support of our ARMY fans.
"Maybe I made a mistake yesterday, but yesterday’s me is still me. I am who I am today, with all my faults. Tomorrow I might be a tiny bit wiser, and that’s me, too. These faults and mistakes are what I am, making up the brightest stars in the constellation of my life. I have come to love myself for who I was, who I am, and who I hope to become.
"I would like to say one last thing.
"After releasing the “Love Yourself” albums and launching the “Love Myself” campaign, we started to hear remarkable stories from our fans all over the world, how our message helped them overcome their hardships in life and start loving themselves. These stories constantly remind us of our responsibility.
"So, let’s all take one more step. We have learned to love ourselves, so now I urge you to “speak yourself.”
"I would like to ask all of you. What is your name? What excites you and makes your heart beat?
"Tell me your story. I want to hear your voice, and I want to hear your conviction. No matter who you are, where you’re from, your skin colour, gender identity: speak yourself.
"Find your name, find your voice by speaking yourself.
"I’m Kim Nam Jun, RM of BTS.
"I’m a hip-hop idol and an artist from a small town in Korea.
"Like most people, I made many mistakes in my life.
"I have many faults and I have many fears, but I am going to embrace myself as hard as I can, and I’m starting to love myself, little by little.
"What is your name? Speak Yourself!"
Watch RM Speech
↳ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 ღ
↳ 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!
He raised him to be his best friend 🥲
Pairing: Namjoon x Jimin
Genre: Smut, angst, darkfic / AU: crime, serial killer
Word Count: 12k
Summary: When the truth finally comes out, Namjoon promises to make things up to Jimin. Namjoon would do anything to make Jimin smile again, even if it means killing another man.
Tags: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Mental Institutions, Doctor/Patient, dissociative identity disorder, switching/triggers, temporaro amnesia, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Jail sex, slight daddy kink, sexy af doctor namjoon, twink murderer jimin, Minor Character Death, Murder, implied amputation, implied/reference torture, yandere vibes, obsessive behaviors, unhealthy relationships.
A/N: this is another entry for the @bangtanwritingbingo square ‘Kim Namjoon’. Thanks to @voiceswithoutlips for making the moodboard for me <3
A/N 2: I would reccomend rereading the other parts of my Candyman Series, if you want to understand everything.
He didn’t want to talk today. He honestly hated talking to the old doctor most of the time. Burgess did nothing to actually help either of them, so why bother speaking? Namu laid himself out on the couch, looking out the window at the morning sun. He stretched his long arms and legs as he still tried shaking off his tiredness. Another reason to dislike their appointments: they’re too damn early. He understood it was so that the other patients wouldn't find out about his hospital status, but he would’ve preferred staying in bed. He’d like it even more if he could share a bed with Jimin.
“Have you been sleeping alright?” Burgess asked from the armchair. “Joyce told me you’ve been sleeping here in your room instead of at home.”
Namu stayed silent, gazing out the window. He watched the russet sky slowly fading into yellow as the morning sun rose above the horizon. Autumn was fast approaching, so that meant patients would be switching to short sleeves for their warm jackets and thicker sweatpants. He imagined Jimin dressed up for winter. His jacket was too large for him, so he appeared even smaller with the sweaterpaws the jacket created. Namu thought it was a cute look.
He continued thinking about the dark haired man as he watched the sun come up. He spotted a few patients being led by nurses to the other side of the building through the courtyard. It was already six o’clock, which meant breakfast would just be starting. He wondered what they’d have: most likely eggs, toast, and some kind of fruit with juice or milk. Jimin usually has milk or coffee if it’s provided. Namu smiled thinking of his excitement over the chicken biscuits they served once.
Ugh, he hated when the man called him that. He’d been seeing them for eight years now. He should be able to tell when the nerd wasn’t around.
“Or am I talking to Namu right now?”
He excused Jimin for not being able to tell the difference. They haven’t known each other for long, so it was understandable. Yet, the last time they spoke, Jimin must’ve caught on to something. He’d let it slip that he’d finished off Carl for him, though of course, he spoke as if he were Namjoon. He’d gotten quite good at doing that. Namu remembered his lovely angel standing there examining him for a brief moment. He’d read him like a book. He half expected Jimin to run away, but he only smiled widely. It was like finding a kindred spirit; Namu felt as if he’d found The One, if that was a thing. He didn’t want to scare Jimin or worry him about their ‘condition’. They handled themselves well for the most part. Namu was simply there to do the things Namjoon was too afraid to do.
Like bashing in someone’s face.
“Namu? Is there something you’d like to talk about today?”
Namu rolled his eyes, wishing the old man would disappear. He then said, “What’s for breakfast today?”
“Chicken biscuits, alongside the old egg and toast combo. Are you thinking of eating here today?”
“Jimin likes the biscuits,” he said, still watching patients and nurses head to the cafeteria. “He says he likes the chicken they use. He sometimes puts ketchup on it too. I mean, I tell him it’s kinda weird since the biscuit’s got butter on the inside, but he says he likes it.” He thought about his sweet Jimin sitting in the cafeteria with that weirdo Hoseok and his teddy bear. Namu would give anything to be next to him right then. “Is there strawberry milk today?”
“I think so. You know it’s rare for us to have it. I’m guessing Jimin likes strawberry milk.”
“He does. He says it reminds him of when he was a kid when his mom would take him to the store, you know, when she wasn’t high?” he sighed, “Kind of like my mom, to be honest.”
"Your mother was in a bad place-"
"-a bad place?" Namu shot a glare over at him. "So rather than power through it and protect her only child, she runs off and leaves them with their father? And that's okay? Because she was in a bad place?"
"She wasn't mentally strong enough to handle the abuse she received from your father," he said, "And neither was Namjoon. What you have is not a personality disorder; it is a trauma disorder. Your father's words and actions have impacted you more than you realize. The bullies at school-”
“-I never understood bullying.”
“I mean, I get it, but I don’t get it at the same time. I know bullies are just cock-less fucks who want to feel a smidge of power, so they pick on people they think are weaker than them,” he began. “They play pranks and make up mean names and just generally are an asshole. Before you tell me that they must’ve had problems of their own at home or were a kid at the time, that’s not an excuse to me. I had problems at home. I was a kid, and you never saw me mercilessly beating someone in a hallway.”
“Ah, well, that’s not entirely true, is it?” Burgess gave him a knowing look. “Mercilessly beating someone is exactly what brought you to us in the first place."
"I told him to stop yelling at me, and he didn't," Namu's eyes narrowed at him. "He deserved it. I had to put up with his bullshit for years, and I'd just had enough. I was going off to university; I was going to make something of myself and he was jealous! He was jealous because he was nothing but a deadbeat loser! Working in a factory making pennies…"
Namu might forget a lot of things, but he'd always remember his father. A thin man with black hair and eyes like his, his father didn’t intimidate anyone. But, this didn’t stop him from having the worst temper and biggest hot head known to man. Namu recalled the tirade of insults he’d received when he'd bought the wrong brand of beer once. He could never forget the beating he'd gotten when he had once burned the dinner by accident. His father was angry at the world and had nobody to take it out on but his own son. Namu thought of nothing but escaping him, and finally got the chance when Namjoon received an English scholarship.
"I told him I was leaving, and he said I couldn't," he gritted through his teeth. "He said my place was at home and to work in the factory with him. He wanted me to be a nobody just like him. He said that men like us don't become doctors or lawyers or anything else. He said I wouldn't make it through university, let alone medical school. He said I'd be lucky to even get an associates degree. I told him to leave us alone, and he said…'' Namu squeezed his eyes tight, body starting to shake as the memory came to the forefront of his mind. "He said a freak like me shouldn't be in a hospital. He...he-he told me that someone like me should be locked in a looney bin, not working in one…But I showed him...I showed him just how fucking crazy I was. I showed him what happens to bastards like him…"
"I know you did," Burgess said calmly. "I saw the reports. Your father doesn't need the feeding tube anymore, but he does have a bad limp."
"Bet he gets a ton of disability money from the government."
"I suppose he does."
He knocked a small succulent plant from the windowsill to the floor. Namu sat back against the arm of the couch, and looked back out the window. If he tried hard enough, he could feel his father's bones crushing into his fists. Nobody told him how much punching someone hurt; he felt the ache in his knuckles and fingers hours afterwards. Namu might have gotten away with it, but the memory had become blurry to him. He eventually found himself in a jail cell, awaiting to be bailed out or sent to county jail, but he had ended up at Matthis Memorial Psychiatric Hospital under the care of Dr. Steven Burgess. With a bit of talk therapy and medication, Namjoon became easier to handle. He attended his university classes online, met with tutors that worked in the hospital education department, and studied diligently. Once he was finally free, he continued seeing Dr. Burgess and finished university.
Things were fine for a few years: he started interning at the hospital underneath Burgess and another doctor; then he began working there as well. Namu believed Burgess had more to do with the hiring than he cared to say. His doctor couldn’t keep an eye on him if he worked somewhere else. Namjoon didn’t care. He liked helping people. He liked hearing their stories, listening to their problems and finding a solution to them. Namjoon was certainly kinder and more patient than he was. Namu preferred to tell them to stop whining and take their medications.
Then he met Louis. A scrawny man with red hair and freckles, he came to Matthis Hospital after he’d brutally murdered his family. He claimed the Devil told him to do it; he said they were possessed by demons. Rather than perform some sort of half-assed exorcism on them, he put a hatchet in each of their heads. Namu didn’t care for his sob story about how he never meant to kill them; he only wanted to release the demons taking hold of them. Namjoon, he figured, must’ve sat there and listened to his rantings for ages.
However, the longer they spoke with Louis, the more obvious his lie became. Louis didn’t believe in the supernatural; he cooked up the demon-possession story to get a lighter sentence in a comfortable hospital. It wasn’t uncommon for people to do that: plead insanity to avoid prison. After a few months of talk therapy, Louis’s true nature began to appear. He was nothing but an angry man who wanted a way out. He’d hated his wife and children, and rather than leave like a normal person, he’d murdered them instead.
Hmm, Namu supposed there was some insanity to that.
Namjoon could normally handle Louis most of the time. Yet, Louis pushed them a bit too far in their last session. He’d found out from someone that Namjoon was not only a patient himself, but also liked men over women. Namu didn’t remember exactly what led to the outcome, though he felt the fiery rage all the same. Louis had been smiling smugly at him when he revealed everything he’d found out.
‘I don’t think a trouser-pilot like you should be helping anyone. You’re just as looney as everyone else, especially if you like dick so much.’
Namu could still see the small scar on his middle knuckle where Louis’s buck teeth met his fist. He’d beaten the man with his fists, blood splattered on his shirt and hands. Louis was still alive, but the attack caused Namjoon to lose his license. Burgess told them he might get it back when he’s proved he’s better, but they both knew that’d never happen. Then Halloween happened. It was all Namjoon the first time. He only felt the after effects when the police chased the little angel out of his house. When they heard Namjoon had breached his oath and had sex with his patient, they pushed back the suspension even further. Namu refused to let them believe Jimin raped him. He’d loved every second of it and told them so.
“I’m hungry,” he finally said. “Can I go now?”
Burgess checked his watch, “Sure. If you’re not in the mood to finish, we can pick this up tomorrow.”
Namu considered skipping tomorrow. He left the office, then headed for the cafeteria. Dressed in a black sweater and jeans, he looked far from the meek Dr. Kim everyone was accustomed to. He noticed the younger nurses eyeing him as he passed; no doubt his strong jawline, broad body and handsome face caught their eyes. Not that he cared. He only cared about bumping into Jimin. It bothered him that they must keep appearances in front of others. He wanted to hold Jimin’s hand, kiss him ‘good morning’, and talk to him. But, doctor-patient etiquette told them that that sort of behavior was inappropriate. Burgess might have vouched for him, and said he could continue on as a consultant rather than a doctor, but Namu must obey the rules as well if he wanted to keep Jimin.
“Ah Namjoon,” Joyce smiled at him from behind the nurses’ station, “Good morning. How are you feeling today?”
“Tired,” he sighed, “Breakfast started yet?”
“It started a few minutes ago. If you hurry up, you might catch your favorite.”
“You mean Jimin?”
By the question, Joyce realized who she was really talking to. "You know the rules, Namu," she said, "No fraternizing with him outside sessions."
"It's not breaking code if I happen to catch him in passing," he reasoned. He picked a candy out of the bowl on the counter and pocketed it. Jimin liked strawberry candy the most. "See ya around, doll."
He strolled down the hallway towards the cafeteria. On the way, he ran into a few of Namjoon's patients, who either nodded or smiled at him. Seeing the manic one with a hunchback asking if they'd play with the shape blocks today, Namu pitied Namjoon for a moment. They really gave him the black sheeps. He nodded that they would, and made a note to write it for later. He did notice the odd look some of the other doctors gave him. They're used to Namjoon's warm tones and secondhand clothing, not the black shirt, jeans, and chains Namu wore. He normally threw on his other half's clothes to disguise it better, but he'd been too lazy to put on the facade.
Namu entered the cafeteria, seeing the staff and patients in line. Phil, a burly guard, eyed him when he came in. Another longtime employee, Phil could tell by looking at him. Namu grinned.
"Namu," he said, adjusting his belt, "You stayed the night again?"
"Nah, I went home last night. Had my session early today and now I'm starving," he surveyed the room, looking over each head for the one he loved the most. "Chicken biscuits," he inhaled the scent wafting in the air. "Lovely. You've seen my Jimin today?"
"I just got here, so I haven't, but you know the rules. No fraternizing."
"I swear, it's like you and Joyce have no faith in me," he said, "It's not like I'm gonna rail him here in the hall...I'd take him somewhere more private." He chuckled at Phil's stern expression, "Catch you later, Phil."
"Behave yourself. I won't hesitate to stick you in your room."
"I know, I know."
Namu walked towards the line, grabbing a tray. He saw the little biscuits sitting in a heated tray alongside scrambled eggs and pieces of toast with fruit cups. A perfectly balanced meal. Namu smiled at the cafeteria worker, who eyed him suspiciously before placing the biscuit sandwich on his tray. He winked at her and moved on. He continued looking around for Jimin. He prayed he’d see him before he left. Phil was no doubt keeping a close eye, but Namu didn't care. He wasn't hurting anyone by simply talking to his favorite person in the whole world. Skipping the sides, he grabbed a cup of orange juice and headed to the tables. He took advantage of Namjoon's doctor status and sat at the staff table.
Halfway through eating, his heart skipped a beat. Jimin walked into the room and the world lit up around him. He came in with the weirdo necrophile Hoseok and his ragged teddy bear. Namu caught Phil watching Jimin walk in, and then turned to him. Namu gave an innocent smile and waved as he finished his sandwich. He'd have to settle for watching. Jimin walked up to the line and grabbed a tray. He looked tired. Namu could tell from his baggy eyes and the long stretch he did that he hadn't slept well. He wondered why. Another bad dream? Another restless night? Namu wanted to ask. He hoped nothing was bothering his angel. Namjoon will no doubt ask at their session today. If he had things his way, he'd share a room with Jimin and he could be there if Jimin had a nightmare or help him fall asleep. Namu had never felt these inclinations with anyone else. He looked over at Jimin as he accepted a hot biscuit sandwich, some eggs and a fruit cup with milk. The typical Jimin breakfast. He wanted to walk over, kiss his cheek and sit with him.
He felt like a teenager in love. All he wanted was Jimin at his side all the time. He wished he could make that happen.
"Out of the way, lil' bitch."
Smacking Jimin's tray to the floor, the thug bumped his shoulder as he walked past. Namu's eyes narrowed. The milk spilled over Jimin's shoes and his biscuit unwrapped itself on the floor. Hoseok looked worriedly at Jimin, probably offering his breakfast. Jimin, however, turned around.
"Hey, that wasn't nice," Jimin sounded so sweet, but pathetic.
The patient was a man named Jose Fernandez, but they called him Tito for reasons unknown. Another one who’s fooled the system, he’d convinced the judge that his gang brainwashed him and several others, so they had no control over their actions. It was a smart move, Namu and Namjoon agreed in their notes. He wasn't one of Namjoon's patients, so luck was working in Tito's favor.
"And what are you gonna do about it?" Tito asked, smirking smugly at him. "Cry?"
"N-no," he said, "But you should apologize for that."
'Apologize, Tito, or you might be throwing up your insides later,'
Namu shot up when Tito shoved Jimin back lightly. He glanced at Phil, who was talking to one of the nurses by the door. Not flirting, but the distraction was inconvenient. Jimin rubbed where Tito poked him and did not meet his eyes. Namu looked over the short, skinny man. Covered head to toe in tattoos, he wore a handkerchief around his forehead. Namu would strangle his skinny neck with it.
"Huh, what are you gonna do? Huh, pretty boy?" Tito asked again as his friends laughed behind him.
"Stop it," Jimin looked away, covering himself. Namu was sure that if he switched, even Namjoon would knock Tito out.
"What's going on here?" Namu approached the pair, and Tito immediately straightened up. Hands behind his back, Namu looked at the mess on the floor and then turned to Tito, "Really, Hernandez? Are we in high school? Knocking someone's tray to the ground is definitely very mature of you."
"We were just messing around," he said. "Jim-in and I are buddies."
"First off, it's Ji-min," he corrected. He fully faced Tito, not at all bothered by the two men who flanked him. "And secondly, I think you should apologize for bumping into him like that." He picked up the tray first. Phil must still be distracted if he hasn't come up to them.
"I didn't do anything. He dropped it. Not my fault. Right?"
Namu stepped up to him. He was a weasel of a man. The tattoos, the mean mug and mustache did nothing to frighten Namu. He reminded him of a goblin with his pointed nose and chin. Namu found his nose shape particularly interesting. Straight bridge, the end pointed like a beak. He felt tempted to ask if he knew Big Bird.
"You do realize where you are, right? This isn't a prison where you can mess with just anyone." He moved even closer, causing Tito to step back some. "This is Matthis Memorial Psychiatric Hospital. The keyword being 'psychiatric'." He gestured over to Jimin, "Do you even know who that is? Why is he here? No? Well, I can tell you it's not because he stole a candy bar." He smirked, "Park Jimin was charged with the murder of 13 people, and nearly killing dozens of others. He's also gotten into this habit of poisoning other people lately. I mean, I try getting him to stop but the little devil just has too much fun doing it." Namu then leaned in, whispering, "I wouldn't piss him off, if I were you. You just might end up shitting yourself to death. Don't laugh, because it has happened. It was kinda gross, to be honest."
“I’m not afraid of a little pussy like him,” he spat. “So what if he got some people sick? I can still come back and fuck him up for it.”
Namu’s grip tightened around the tray in his hand. The man was truly hardheaded. Namu wondered how many hits it would take to make it soft.
"Dr. Kim…" Phil had finally noticed him, “Is everything alright over here?”
His entire body stiffened. He kept his eyes on Tito for a minute more, glaring daggers into his face, before turning to Phil. “Sure,” he said with a wide smile, “Everything’s fine. I was just getting acquainted with our new patients: Alvin and the Chipmunks.”
“-Dr. Kim,” Phil interrupted Tito, “I think it’s about time you went home. Your sessions will be starting soon.”
“Home. Right. Sure.” He nodded at Tito, and turned to Jimin. “See you at two o’clock, angel,” he whispered, sliding the strawberry candy from his pocket in Jimin's palm. He gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and grinned, “You behave yourself, okay?”
Jimin normally smiled at him, but he didn’t now. He eyed Namu as he’d done Namjoon in the office. Namu might have let himself show a bit too much today. He’d have to leave a note for Namjoon in case Jimin said something. He followed Phil out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. Neither of them said anything as Phil led him, not to the entrance, but to the private wing on the other side of the hospital.
“You should be careful around a hoodlum like Hernandez,” Phil warned when they reached his door. “He can do a lot of damage outside the hospital as well as inside it.”
“Sorry, Phil, but I’m not afraid of a little goblin like him. You could probably lift him and throw him across the room if you wanted to, Phil.”
“You know I’m not that kind of officer, Namu.”
“Just saying,” he said, hands raised as he walked into his room, “Only a suggestion if he ever gets up in your face.”
“Thanks,” he replied, “Now, you stay here until your sessions start.”
“Right. See ya, Phillie.”
Phil gave him one last look before leaving. Namu shut the door and looked around his room. His personal room in the hospital hadn’t changed much in recent years. Band posters, drawings, and photos were plastered on the wall; Namjoon put small potted plants on the windowsill and in spaces on their makeshift bookshelf. Their bed stayed unmade, but this didn’t bother Namu. He flopped down on it, and looked to the small dresser in the corner. He’d have to put on Namjoon’s clothes: the collared shirts, stiff neck ties, and pants. Jimin liked the look though, so he supposed it wasn’t all bad.
Namu grabbed a notepad from the bedside table and jotted down a note:
‘Goblin keeps messing with Jiminie. Protect him.’
Namu shut his eyes. He wished he could have Jimin snuggled close, sleeping soundlessly with his head on Namu’s chest. Sadly, he could only dream of the closeness.
That wasn’t Namjoon. Jimin could tell just by looking at him. First, he didn’t dress the way Namjoon normally did outside of work. He recalled the man’s wardrobe from the night of his escape. He typically wore warm earth tones that were loose and comfortable. This person wore a black sweater with tight fitting jeans. He’d even worn a dangling earring and silver chain today too. Jimin sat in the library as he thought about it. Namjoon had never threatened anyone that way before. He was usually so calm and kind, but Namjoon was anything but that today. It bothered him as he tried focusing on the book in his lap. He wanted to go see Namjoon, to talk to him, to kiss and hold him. He had questions, and he hoped Namjoon might answer them.
He felt somebody coming towards him as he quietly read, and his body tensed. Tito made a habit of finding him around the hospital. Despite his crimes, he had convinced the jury he wasn’t dangerous, which was slowly proving to be untrue. Jimin wondered what kind of jury would honestly believe he was brainwashed into dealing and smuggling drugs, and shooting people. He curled himself into the armchair.
“There’s the pretty boy,” Tito said, standing in front of him. “Where’s your boyfriend? Busy knocking people with a cafeteria tray?”
“Namjoon isn’t like that,” he replied, keeping his eyes on his book. He tried reading, but could not take in the words. “Just leave me alone, please. I didn’t do anything to you.”
“Nah, but your boyfriend did,” he said, crouching to try and get Jimin’s attention, but was blocked by the book. Jimin saw the two thugs standing behind him. “And he’s not here to get his ass kicked...”
“You’ll get put in solitary.”
“And? So what?” He grabbed the book and tossed it away. Jimin still did not look at him. “You’re pretty. Anybody get to you yet?"
"I said, has anybody gotten to you yet?"
A flicker of anger sparked in Jimin. "This isn't that kind of place. Most of the people in minimum are too cracked to care about that." Jimin gripped his knees, "And I'm one of them."
Jimin could feel it in his pocket. The castor bean plant he hid in his bedroom began blooming lovely. If he grinded the beans, he could separate the toxins inside it. Ricin. His old friend. He normally would stick it in a can and spray it on the candies back home, but there are no candies here. He'd have to do it another way. His mind turned over all the possibilities as he forgot Tito. He'd managed to keep the plant a secret because he kept it behind a curtain in his room, and they had no reason to toss his bed. He was sure none of them even knew what plant it was.
"Psh, I don't believe-" the thug began but Jimin interjected.
"Well, you better start believing, asshole, before you're shitting your guts out!"
His fist slammed square into Tito's face. He never knew how much punching would hurt. The man shot up once he fell, about to return the hit before a guard immediately appeared. They handcuffed both men and took them to their respective rooms. Once locked in his bedroom, Jimin’s mind began formulating a plan. He needed Tito's schedule and he could only find that at the nurses' station. Poking his head into his door's window, he knew it'd be a stretch to get to there, but he could do it. If Tito thought he could make Jimin his 'bitch', he had another thing coming.
Jimin waited until lights out to sneak out of his room. He'd made sure to stick a paper in the doorframe to keep it from locking completely. Thankfully, when he tried the handle, the door popped open. Crouching, Jimin checked for nurses making their rounds and then snuck to the circular counter at the center of the floor. A single nurse sat with her back turned, distracted by the phone in her hand. Perfect. Jimin kept low as he made his way to a filing cabinet. A flaw in his plan then presented itself. Which drawer held schedules? There were several cabinets underneath the desk, all marked with only letters and numbers. He didn’t have much time. He picked at the first drawer, H to K, and opened.
He searched for Victor Hernandez, and found him stuffed at the very end. He glanced at the distracted intern one more time, then withdrew it. A quick read through told him Tito's entire record and his therapy schedule. He saw Dr. Lee, one of Jimin’s old doctors. He knew where his office was located, and was familiar with spots nearest to it. A timetable described Tito's whereabouts throughout each day. These were all the times Tito would be unaccompanied by his two large friends. Sure, he'd have a guard, but a quick spray to the face would put them down just as easily. He slipped out the schedule sheet and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. Yet, before he shut the drawer, a familiar name caught his attention.
A thought occurred to Jimin. Why would a psychologist have a patient file? These were certainly for patients. He double checked, rifling through the various names and seeing only patient numbers. He heard footsteps coming from the other side of the counter, and realized he'd run out of time. Sticking the file underneath his shirt, he snuck back to his room and shut the door.
Once inside, he opened the file on his bed. All the basic information was printed at the top: Namjoon's name, age, gender and date of birth. His eyes widened and his heart missed a beat when he read the next line:
'Date of admission: August 1st, 2013.'
Admission? Jimin plopped down onto his bed and pulled the file into his lap. The record went on to list his attending physician, Dr. Steve Burgess. Jimin knew the name, but had never met him. He gulped at the next line:
'Mode of admission: Criminal'
Criminal? No, that must be a misprint. Namjoon was far from a criminal. His boyfriend wouldn't hurt a fly. Jimin tried picturing Namjoon savagely beating someone, and it would not come to him. It did not make sense. This file wasn't real. This file must be about another Kim Namjoon that he didn't know about. His mind began whirling as his eyes went down the page. It detailed his patient, ward, and bed number: Patient #43561-0, Ward C, and bed number 4. Ward C was the second to the top floor. From what Jimin understood, only very special patients lived on that floor. But Namjoon could not live in the hospital; his actual address was printed on the file and Jimin had followed him home on Halloween night. He saw his patient status written as 'out-patient', which meant to Jimin that Namjoon was not a resident.
Jimin continued reading through the file. Burgess diagnosed Namjoon as having dissociative identity disorder. He wrote that Namjoon had two distinct personalities including his normal self, that both identities were aware of one another, both were high functioning and didn't show any signs of physical impairment, and suffered bouts of amnesia when ‘switching’ between one another. Underneath the ‘special notes’, Burgess wrote that both personalities communicated through notes they’d leave for one another. For example, if Namjoon makes an appointment, he’d leave a note to remember. Namjoon must’ve shown comorbid symptoms at one point, since Burgess listed them underneath his diagnosis: PTSD, anxiety, depression, borderline personality disorder, and even an eating disorder. Jimin turned the page to see he had a conduct report like everyone else; he had a long list of offenses that surprised Jimin.
“Offense #1: Patient assaulted hospital employee after said employee attempted to administer medicine. Employee was hospitalized and the patient was given solitary.” He sat stunned by the words. He reread the line again and tried imaging Namjoon doing such a thing. It must be a lie. “Offense #2: Assaulted another patient following a disagreement. Both patients received immediate medical care and were given solitary confinement.”
Burgess made notes that these offenses happened after a switch in personalities. Jimin scanned through the files until he found the details of these personalities. He wrote about Namjoon’s true personality, the gentle boy who dreamed of being a psychologist to help out others. He suffered from depression, anxiety, had a history of self-harm and past eating disorders. He was well-read, educated, articulate, and thoughtful. He did not show any signs of outward extreme aggression. Jimin smiled thinking of his gentle giant. Any offenses he made were minor: he reportedly stole a second dessert, had contraband items in his room, and found being ‘inappropriate’ with other patients. The last part made Jimin slightly jealous.
But the other personality, named ‘Namu’ by Namjoon, was the exact opposite. The much larger, more violent offenses were committed by him. He lacked empathy for others, had a pattern of abrupt outbursts, impulsive behaviors (mostly of a sexual nature but binge eating was mentioned), and unable to control his emotions. Burgess believed ‘Namu’ appeared whenever Namjoon felt any sort of negative emotion. He wrote that it stemmed from the severe physical and verbal abuse from his father at a young age. Jimin’s heart dropped thinking of this part. Namjoon never mentioned it to him.
Tears welled up in his eyes. He thought he knew Namjoon. They never kept secrets from another one; secrets were poison to healthy relationships. Jimin told Namjoon everything, no matter how miniscule. He knew Namjoon grew up poor, was bullied as a teenager, once worked at a florist shop where his love for nature grew, and had a few friends outside the hospital. He never imagined Namjoon would keep such a big part of himself from Jimin. Leaning back against his pillows, he recalled the cafeteria again. Was that ‘Namu’? He certainly did not act like Namjoon. Namjoon kept the affection to a minimum in front of other patients, but he’d called him ‘angel’ and kissed his hand with people watching. It felt nice, but thinking about it, he resented the gesture. Not because it was the other personality; to him, it is still Namjoon, but because he kept Namu a secret from him.
He curled on his bed, trying to stifle his tears. Why would Namjoon lie to him? Did he not trust Jimin? Did he think Jimin would hate him? What if Namu did not love Jimin the way Namjoon did? A thousand more questions sailed through his mind during the night. He barely slept thinking about it. Suddenly, his plan to poison Tito did not matter. Namjoon must not love him if he was keeping secrets; he did not trust Jimin. It broke his heart to think about it. Jimin thought about how much he’d shared with Namjoon, yet Namjoon kept this side from him.
The next morning, he shuffled into the cafeteria. He knew he’d run into Tito again, but he did not care. His mind became clouded by Namjoon’s lies. What else had he lied about? He felt disgusted with himself. He’d given himself to Namjoon over and over again. The doctor only wanted his body, he thought. Every person he ever dated only wanted him for sex. Nobody ever truly loved him. Namjoon must be one of them if he had lied to Jimin for so long. He sniffed back tears while he received his breakfast and when he reached his table. He’d adored Namjoon more than anything in the entire world. He’d trusted him. He’d loved him, and now realized he’d been so stupid.
“Hey there, pretty bo-”
“-Fuck off, Tito,” he said, keeping back his sobs once more.
“Aw, what’s the ma-”
“-I said ‘fuck off’, you goblin-looking motherfucker!” his shout sounded throughout the room. The plastic spork in his hand itched to be used. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit today! Get the fuck away from me before I stick the spork in your goddamn eye!”
“You ain’t gonna do-”
Jimin pounced. Before the two men behind him could react, Jimin shoved Tito to the floor and slashed the plastic utensil across his face. He pointed the spork right to the man’s eye before he was lifted off of him.
“Let go of me! Let go!” he screamed hysterically, sobbing and crying as he kicked. Phil and Minho kept him tightly by the arms, but Jimin still struggled. “I said let go of me!” a high pitched screech came out as he tried punching Phil, who quickly caught his fist and put it behind his back. The people around him became riled by the situation and loud noises going on in the center of the room.
“Jimin!” a deep voice called over the commotion, “Jimin, stop!”
“Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”
“Jimin, please stop struggling! Phil, don’t hurt him!”
A small pinch came to Jimin’s backside before a sense of tranquility came over him, then the world became dark.
They put the attack on his record and Jimin ended up in solitary for two weeks week. Tito, not suffering a severe injury, was not punished. This bothered Namjoon. He made it known to hospital security that Tito and his friends had been antagonizing Jimin for weeks. It was only a matter of time before Jimin reacted violently. Jimin might be delicate at times, but if pressed, he would attack. His attacks did not always end like the one in the cafeteria today. Phil said he would keep an eye out from now on, but that Namu better stay out of it as well. He’d told Namjoon what his second personality did in the cafeteria the day before, and he made a note of it for himself.
‘Goblin keeps messing with Jiminie. Protect him,’ Namu had written on his notepad.
Namjoon knew who he meant right away. It had upset him that someone bullied Jimin so determinedly. Tito was a gangbanger who must’ve paid or convinced a jury that he was not mentally sound when he committed his crimes. Namjoon might’ve not been a legal expert, but it takes a sound mind to make drug deals and do drive-bys. Namjoon worried what might happen if Namu got his hands on Tito.
Jimin didn’t like blood or violence, but he supposed everyone had a breaking point. Namjoon decided to hold off on the transfer request. Tito was not a concern to him at the moment. His main focus was Jimin. Jimin refused to see anyone. He didn’t eat or sleep very much. The nurses watching him said he mostly cried, muttered things to himself, and became violent if agitated enough. He’d thrown his food trays at the wall on more than one occasion. Namjoon’s heart ached thinking of the pain his love must be in. He tried finding out if perhaps Tito assaulted or injured Jimin somehow, but Hoseok told him nothing of the sort happened.
He carefully walked into the cell. It was nothing like Jimin’s normal room. A single window at the top of the wall barely let in any sunlight. The bed was hard with itchy sheets, and he had a single toilet and a sink. It resembled a jail cell more than a hospital room. The faint smell of eggs filled the room, and he realized it was due to the breakfast Jimin threw at the wall. He found Jimin curled up on the bed, quietly crying to himself with his back to the door. Namjoon wanted to let him out right away. He wasn’t getting treatment being inside the small, enclosed room. Namjoon gently closed the door as he entered the room.
“Go away,” he heard the pain in Jimin’s weak tone. He wept harder hearing Namjoon’s voice.
“It’s me, Jimin,” he said, getting closer to the bed. “Namjoon.”
“Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to-to-to yo-o-ou.”
He began sobbing once again. One might’ve thought he’d run out of tears by this point. Namjoon unscrewed the water bottle he’d brought with him. “Jimin, you should drink something,” he said, “You must be dehydrated from crying.”
“W-w-wh-why do you-you care?”
“Because I love you,” he answered, “Now, please sit up and drink. Please? For me?”
“Yo-You don’t love me!”
“Jimin,” the words shocked him, “Jimin, how can you say that? You know I love you.”
“No, you do-don’t!”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you’re ly-ly-l-lyi-ing to me,” he groaned, continuing to cry into his pillow. “I read your-your file, and you’ve been lying to-to me!”
Namjoon froze. How had Jimin gotten a hold of his file? That was supposed to be locked up in Burgess’s office. He pondered about this before he realized parts of a patient’s file are included in their schedule files. Some resident interns are given them to familiarize themselves with the different patients. Joyce told him the nurses needed to know for medical reasons, but the patients he sees are forbidden from the knowledge. He was sure some negligence on a nurse’s part led to Jimin finding out his biggest secret. Namjoon instantly felt guilt sinking into his stomach. He felt sick. He hated himself now, seeing Jimin so broken by the truth. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, but Jimin shifted away from him.
“I’m sorry, Jimin,” he said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. Patients aren’t supposed to know about me, and I thought it might make you see me differently. Namu isn’t...he isn’t the nicest person at times. He can be very violent and mean, and I didn’t want you to see him.” He touched Jimin’s arm. His skin felt cold to the touch. He hadn’t been using his blankets in the chilly room. The cold weather outside did this to solitary rooms. Jimin did not move away as Namjoon continued rubbing his cold side. “I wanted to tell you," he continued. "I’m sorry I didn't tell you. I should have just come out and said it instead of being afraid.”
Jimin finally rolled onto his bed. Eyes puffy and red from his prolonged weeping, lips dry from lack of water, and cheeks sticky from his tears. “You said we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. You lied. You were keeping-keeping thin-things from me. You don’t love me. You don’t care about my feelings. You only care about fucking me and how I make you feel.”
Hearing this broke his heart. Namjoon felt the heat of his own tears coming up his face. He cupped Jimin’s face, wiping his new tears with his thumb and examining him. He looked so miserable. It wasn’t a surprise. When Jimin felt an emotion, he truly felt it deep inside. Namjoon understood that. Burgess told him his emotions could be uncontrollable at times, especially when Namu appeared.
“That’s not true,” he told him, “Yes, I kept something important from you and I feel so guilty for that, but I do love you, Jimin. I love you more than the air in my lungs. I think of nobody but you. I was going to have Tito transferred to a prison so that he doesn’t bother you anymore.” He pushed hair from Jimin’s forehead, feeling the heat on his face. Namjoon pressed the cool water bottle to his cheek, hoping it might cool him down. “I wanted to kill him. I wanted to break his bones. I wanted…” he took a deep breath, feeling the anger rise up inside him. If he focused, he could keep his attention on Jimin. “I wanted to make him hurt for even thinking he could take you from me. You are the love of my life, Park Jimin. You are everything to me.” He pecked his forehead, “I adore you. I would burn down this entire hospital if they let scum like him do something to you.” He then whispered, “I will do anything for you. You know that.”
“Then why did you lie to me?” He sounded so weak now. He pouted at Namjoon as he asked, “I would never think less of you for being that way. I love you so much. I have never loved anybody the way I love you. It hurts so much…”
“I know, angel,” he comforted him with soft kisses on his cheeks, “I know. I told you: I had to keep it a secret. But now, it’s out there. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I did that. I’m the one who said we shouldn’t have secrets and here I was not telling you everything about myself. You pour your heart out to me, and I didn’t do the same. I made you think the worst and hurt you so much." He pressed a small kiss to Jimin's lips, "Let me make it up to you. Please? Just tell me what you want and I'll do it. Anything at all.”
He knew what Jimin’s emotions did to him. As much as he adored Jimin, he knew the slightest wrong step set off a bomb. Jimin might leave him. He might request a real doctor and never want to see Namjoon again. It already killed him not being beside Jimin every second of the day. If Jimin decided to dump him, he didn’t know what he’d do. He didn't know what Namu might do. He kissed Jimin one more time, not caring that the corner camera might capture him. He pecked his lips a few times, then said, “Tell me. Tell me what I have to do to make it up to you. I can’t take you being angry with me; I can’t stand it.”
Namjoon kissed him deeply. Jimin returning the kiss gave him hope. The younger wrapped one arm around Namjoon’s waist, his hand slowly stroking the small part of his back. His kisses were fire causing a blaze throughout his body to his groin. He rolled his tongue over Jimin’s full lips, tasting the salt from his tears there. Namjoon wanted to have him right there regardless of who might be watching through the camera. He knew a kiss and sex won’t fix what he’d broken between them, but he’d missed these kisses. He’d missed Jimin’s soft lips and moans. Namjoon slipped a hand down Jimin’s pants, lightly rubbing circles around his bulge as they continued kissing. They said nothing to each other, but Namjoon knew by Jimin’s wriggling hips that he’d been missed too.
Soon enough, Namjoon was stroking and kissing along Jimin’s erect length. He loved how the flushed cock pulsated in his hand and on his tongue. He licked up every drop of precum he managed to squeeze out. Hearing Jimin’s faint whimpers made his own cock throb in his pants. But, it wasn’t about him right now. He kissed down the thick underside vein to Jimin’s balls, where he licked circles and took one to suckle on. He felt a hand grip the back of his shirt, massaging his shoulders before going up to his neck and into his hair. Namjoon wrapped his lips back around the red tip to suck on softly, then he brought him fully into his mouth. He licked his tongue underneath as he continued sucking gently. He wanted Jimin to feel his tongue, mouth and hands searching for his pleasure. He loved the salty and sweet taste on his tongue, and the way the veins pumped blood through it.
“Namjoon…” he huffed, “Namjoon...yes...like that, oh my God...don’t-don’t stop…”
Then suddenly, Namjoon’s eyes blinked rapidly.
Fuck, he tastes good. He feels good. Namu sank his mouth further down until he reached the hilt. He cradled Jimin’s balls in his hand and rubbed gingerly, knowing the motions brought out the most in Jimin. It was when his finger pushed between the soft cheeks underneath that Jimin lifted his hips upwards.
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” Namu muttered, stroking Jimin as he asked. “You want my big cock in your tight little ass, don’t you?”
“-Stop saying his name,” he said, giving it a slight squeeze. “I want to make you cum saying my name right now.”
Jimin paused. After all this time, he finally could say something. Namu could finally tell Jimin himself how he felt, and how much he desired him at that moment. “Make me cum then,” Jimin huffed, head tilting back into the pillows, “Make me cum hard while you cum inside me.”
Namu unbuckled his pants right away as Jimin rolled over and spread his cheeks. He groaned seeing the tight hole between them. Namu bent down, taking hold of both sides before drooling over it. Jimin twitched and pushed his hips upwards. He was begging and Namu loved it. He rubbed his spit into the hole before settling himself on top. He was careful going inside. He was always careful. Yet, once he was in there, Namu couldn’t help himself. He gave a few quick thrusts that made Jimin cry out into the pillow.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked, trying his best to hold back. The tightness sucking and clenching around him made him crazy.
“N-no,” he said, pushing his hips into Namu’s, “Keep going.”
“Of course, angel.”
He went slowly at first, then picked up the pace. Jimin kept his moans muffled by the pillow, and Namu saw his pretty hands gripping the bed under them. The small cot started hitting the wall in time with Namu’s thrusts, going in sync with their groans. He looked down to see those round buttocks ripple each time they went down on him. He gave one a small spank that made Jimin move faster. Namu took hold of his hips to keep him in place as he plunged into him in long strokes. Jimin stayed still and took it the way he always did. When he saw his grip tighten and his moans start cracking his voice, Namu knew he was close.
“Cum for me,” he growled, “Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock like a good boy.”
“-That’s right, I’m your fucking Daddy. I’m your...your…”
He nearly finished before Jimin. He never liked finishing first. He loved hearing Jimin come completely undone by the pleasure coursing in his body. Namu hoped whoever was watching saw how good he made Jimin feel. He took hold of Jimin’s arms, pulling them behind his back before he had Jimin nearly bouncing on him. This new angle had Jimin trembling and moaning before eventually stopping. Namu came right when he did. He looked over to see long streams of white go across the bed to his pillow. He moaned out encouragement and praises as he came inside Jimin, telling him what a good boy he was and how well he does. When they finally finished, Jimin collapsed onto the bed with Namu on top of him.
“Get rid of him," Jimin panted, eyes still closed in bliss. "Get rid of the goblin."
Namu looked down at him. He looked beautiful with his red cheeks and half-closed eyes. He hoped this might finally put Jimin to sleep for a while.
"Anything for you, angel," he nodded, “Whatever you want, angel,” he said between kisses, “It’s all yours.”
His visit to Jimin's cell didn't escape anyone's notice. Burgess must've heard what they'd done, and scolded Namjoon the following day.
"It's already bad enough that the board suspended your license," he said sternly. "If they got their hands on the footage, they'd have a reason to revoke it all together."
"I'm sorry," Namjoon said from his seat on the couch. "I wasn't thinking properly when I did it."
"I understand human nature played a part, but I think in your best interest, you did not visit Jimin for the rest of the suspension."
"The board is looking for any excuse to take your license away from you, Namjoon," he said. "You worked very hard for it. This job is the only one you've ever wanted to do. I'm not saying break up with Jimin, but if they see you two going at it, they will take it away."
Namjoon almost didn't care anymore. The medical board could keep his license. He cared more about Jimin. However, seeing the elderly man in front of him, he knew he was right. Burgess had a big hand in helping Namjoon secure a position in the hospital and getting his license.
"Alright," he said, "I'll wait until Jimin comes back to see him again."
Besides, he needed to focus on his plan.
‘Let’s waste the Goblin.’
Namjoon would’ve normally gone through the appropriate channels at first. He thought of going into administration and working on getting Tito transferred. However, upon hearing Jimin’s request, he could not resist. If killing a low-life like Tito made Jimin forgive him, then he’d do it. For someone in Namjoon’s position, getting the necessary tools was easy. It was the plan that he spent most of his time on. He wrote his notes for Namu and hid them in the room upstairs. When Namu was in control, their plan would remain smooth.
Namu knew he couldn’t just simply approach Tito and sling a knife across his skinny neck. He needed to be tactful. He couldn’t afford a slip up. Jimin would be in solitary for another week, which meant he had more than enough time to prepare everything.
He’d give Jimin the best welcome-back present he’s ever gotten.
Namu retrieved a copy of Tito’s schedule. He found out Tito’s psychologist, Dr. Lee takes his patients to his office in Building C. Building C was their administrative area, so there are no hospital residents. Namjoon knew it’d be useless to try getting him there. Yes, there was limited security in that building, but there are still cameras. He looked into his recreational activities instead: Tito mostly hung around the work-out yard it seemed; probably because it resembles a prison yard. He scanned around the file for a possible work detail; a lot of minimum security patients took up small jobs to pass time and gain some coin for themselves. Sitting in his office, sipping his hot tea, he smiled when he found the line:
The laundry system was beneath the building where they kept all the washing and drying machines. It opened at nine in the morning and was shut down before dinner. However, it was incredibly easy to obtain the keys to the basement room. He realized he’d found his location. Now, he needed a method. Namjoon considered simply drugging Tito to induce an overdose, but the pharmacy was kept locked up tightly. It’d be difficult for even a doctor to break inside. The most Namu could achieve was a few roofies from a kid down the block at home. Also, he wanted to give Jimin a present.
Murder was never easy, otherwise people would kill all the time. Namjoon decided he’d figure that out in the moment. He needed to get Tito down into the laundry room somehow. The man would not leave with him willingly unless there was a reason for it. He knew that Tito seemed to like pretty men, which is why he went after Jimin so much. He only needed to offer someone prettier, if that were possible. Namjoon felt guilty flipping through patient files for a proper candidate. Namu saw no problem with it when the switch happened halfway through. He spent some time after his session researching soft, young men Tito would drool over. He copied their pictures and tucked them into his pocket for later. Another part of the plan was solved.
“I heard from a little bird you’re looking for some ass.” Namu cornered Tito in the garden area. He guessed the man had just finished his therapy appointment, which explained why his friends were absent.
“Yeah, you keep bothering my Jimin because you’re a sex addict,” he said, “And enjoy degrading and having sex with men you think are weaker than you.” Before Tito could reply, he said, “I’m something of a dealer in pretty faces. Tell me your type, and for a fee, I can set you up with one.”
“You pimp out your patients?” he sounded impressed rather than appalled. “I didn’t think you had it in you. I have five-hundred in my account right now. Show me some faces and we got a deal.”
So easy. Far too easy. Namu swore men had no sense of self-preservation. All Namu did was show Tito some photos he’d stolen of various patients, and Tito picked a handsome brunette named Jungkook from the deck. The meeting was arranged for that night. It appeared Tito’s desperation for a sexual fix clouded his judgement. Jimin would be so pleased. Namu, of course, did not really ask for Jungkook. He did, however, manage to acquire a chair, some rope, duct tape, and a tool box. The more options he had, the easier his job might be. Jimin was worth every effort.
At six o’clock, Namjoon snuck into the bustling, busy laundry area. A wide room bordered by industrial washers and dryers, patients stood by the long tables folding clothes, sheets, and blankets. Work details were part of the hospital’s rehabilitation program. It helped give the patients a proper routine they can use once they’re released. He supposed it worked. He personally didn’t care. He slipped into a storage closet, pushed some large boxes aside, and crouched down into the lower shelf. Hardly anyone came into the closet, and with the dim lighting, nobody could see him hiding under the dark bottom shelf.
When he heard the laundry guards shutting the place down for the night, he set to work. He placed the chair in the small room, unwrapped the rope and placed the box within arm’s reach. He smiled as he worked, imagining the look on Jimin’s face when he opened his gift. Namjoon thought of putting it in a blue and white gift box; something pretty that Jimin might like. He could make a specialunch for them too. After he finished preparing, he merely bided his time in the main room until he saw a shadow in the doorway.
“You actually came,” Namjoon grinned wider than he intended, standing in front of the storage room door. “I thought you might chicken out.”
“Nah, man,” he said, “I saw that Kookie guy today and he is finer than wine.” Tito’s excitement made him bounce around, trying to see over Namjoon’s shoulders. “Where’s he at?”
“Oh, he’s in here. Don’t worry. Right this way.”
He let Tito walk in first. Once he shut the door, Namjoon locked it and faced Tito. He saw the man look around the room as if Jungkook might pop out from the shadows. “Yo,” he said into the room, “Where is he? You said you’d bring him here.”
“I know. I lied.”
With a pinch of a needle to his neck, Tito instantly fell into his arms. The drugs worked faster than he’d expected. He hoped that might impress Jimin when he told him about it later. By the time he had Tito tied up to the chair, the man regained consciousness. Namjoon pulled on a pair of latex gloves as Tito muttered insults under his breath.
“Oh cut it out,” Namjoon rolled his eyes, “You can drop the tough gangster act now. There’s nobody here to try impressing or intimidating.”
“You’ll regret this! I got friends, you know! I got friends outside of here who will fuck you up if you mess with me!”
A low chuckle came out as Namjoon opened the tool box, “But, how will they know I ‘messed with’ you when you’re not alive to tell them?”
“Fuck you! You’re not gonna do shit!”
“I was surprised you agreed to this so eagerly,” Namjoon said while Tito began thrashing in the chair. His wrists tied to the arms, and his ankles to the legs, there was only so much movement he could do. “I would’ve thought you’d be more suspicious of me after our encounter in the cafeteria. I understand that my other half didn’t give you the best first impression of me.”
“Other half? What the fuck you talking about?”
“Also, aren’t you gangster types naturally suspicious of people when you first meet them?” He began overlooking the tools in the box. Wrenches, hammers, pliers, and screwdrivers filled the small box. He’d read somewhere it was handy to have a tool box in your home, and Namjoon guessed they were right. “I guess you’re so horny, you’re not thinking clearly. I would’ve expected better from a man who had convinced an entire jury that he was brainwashed into working for a drug cartel.”
“What the fuck is going on, man? Who the fuck are you?”
“Who am I?” Namjoon picked up a box cutter, playing with the slider to see how far up the rusted blade went. “I’m the guy who’s going to slice you to pieces and give them to my boyfriend as a present.”
“You’re-You’re fucking sick! You’re no doctor! You’re just as fucked up as that little boyfriend of yours! Both of y’all are sick in the head!”
“Well, Tito, you are in a mental hospital.” Namjoon finally faced him, and examined him from afar. “You should have thought about that before you started bothering my Jimin. If you’d picked on anyone else, I wouldn’t have cared, but you chose Jimin. Why? Because he’s pretty? Weak? Non-threatening? Wait, don’t answer. I don’t care.” He bent down to look into Tito’s face. Despite the tough-guy charade, Namjoon saw his fear. Oh, he liked the fear. “You’re a bully, and you don’t deserve to be here. If it were up to me, you’d be on the first bus to a federal prison where you’ll be fed to the wolves. But, it’s not up to me anymore.”
“Th-then who is it up to?”
“Jimin. You see,” he sighed, “I upset him and I told him I’d do anything, absolutely anything, to win back his affections. So, in typical Jimin-fashion, he asked me to kill you.”
“And that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s see…” he thought about which part Jimin would like the most. He saw dozens of gang tattoos on Tito’s body, as well as his significantly pointed nose. “We call you The Goblin, you know. Mostly because of that fucking beak you have called a nose...and your chin...it’s pretty pointy too…”
The nose. Namjoon would take the nose first.
He needed to make sure everything was just right. After disposing of Tito’s body in the hospital cemetery, Namjoon went to work on the nicer parts of his gift. He embalmed and preserved Tito’s nose in a small jar that he wrapped in a gift box. He bought a floral arrangement of pink lilies and roses to go alongside the gift. He then made a nice lunch for them to share his first session back: pork dumplings, kimbap and kimchi fried rice, with hand-made lemonade. He even purchased a small box of chocolate cakes they could share afterwards. He cut his hair, got a fresh shave, bought a new cologne, and even a new shirt and tie for the occasion. He wanted to look his best for his favorite person.
“Dr. Kim, your patient is here,” Phil said outside his door.
“Thank you, Phil.”
Jimin looked much healthier outside of solitary. He’d started eating better and sleeping since he and Namjoon made up. Jimin waited until the door fully closed to rush into Namjoon’s arms. Namjoon held him close to his chest, smelling his sweet-shampoo and taking in his warmth. When they kissed, all the stress inside him flushed away and he focused on Jimin’s lips.
“I missed you,” Namjoon said, pecking Jimin’s lips. “So much. All my other patients are so boring compared to you.”
“I missed you too,” he replied. “I was counting the days until they let me out so we could be here again.”
They kissed one more time, and then Namjoon released him. “I got you a surprise. Sit down,” he led him over to the couch, “And close your eyes.” Once Jimin closed his eyes, he grabbed the gift box from behind his desk. “Now, open them.”
Jimin’s eyes went wide when he saw the box in his lap. “Oh Namjoon!” he beamed up at him, “You got me a present! You didn’t have to!”
“What do you mean I didn’t have to? Of course, I had to,” he sat down beside him and eagerly waited on Jimin to open it. “It’s something very special. I think you’ll really like it, and no, it’s not a chemistry set.”
“Hmph, suppose we can’t always get what we want,” he gave a pout, then laughed.
Jimin eased off the box’s lid and gasped at what was inside. On top of sparkling white tissue paper was a glass jar. Inside, green liquid preserved a human nose. By the hooked shape and the length of the tip, Jimin knew right away who’s nose it was. Namjoon spotted tears brimming Jimin’s eyes.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, “Did I do something wrong? Do you not like it? I still have his fingers at home. Namu insisted we keep them in case you didn’t like the nose. Damnit, I’m sorry, Jiminie. I really thought you’d like this inside-joke present-”
“-No, no, no,” he cut in between Namjoon’s words. He smiled, sniffing back his tears, “I love it.”
He nodded. He took both Namjoon’s hands and kissed him, “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before. Nobody has ever gone through the trouble for me. It means so much that you did this. I’ve never felt so loved before.”
“I said I’d do anything for you, and I meant it. I wanted to keep you in my life, and I knew if you’d done something about it, they'd lock you up somewhere far away. I didn’t want you getting into trouble. It was better someone like me did it for you, so you’re safe and close to me. Whether you’re with me or with Namu, you’ll always be protected,” he kissed his cheek. “I’ll always be there and I wanted to show you that today.” He nuzzled their noses together and then said, “I planned something special for your first day back.”
They shared the dumplings, rice and kimbap he’d brought, and Jimin perked up at the cakes. When they finished, Namjoon rested back on the arm of the couch and let Jimin lean onto his chest.
“Tell me all about it,” Jimin asked, tracing lines on Namjoon’s arms. “Tell me every detail. Did he scream? Did he try escaping?”
Namjoon admitted he only recalled bits and pieces of the actual attack. The switching had never been so frequent, but he supposed the emotions inside him caused them. Namu was far more dangerous than Namjoon, which was why he’d ended up in the hospital in the first place. Still, he told Jimin what he remembered and its aftermath. He’d cleaned up the floor, the chair, and the tools he’d used. He wrapped Tito’s body parts in plastic bags, then buried him in the cemetery. The hospital already put out an alert that he was not in his room in the morning, so the police were informed. But, Namjoon knew they’d never find him even if they did care to search for him.
“How’d you know what happened? Namu told you somehow?” he looked up at him, “Do you two like have some kind of inner dialogue going on when I’m not around?”
“Nah,” he shook his head, “I typically write down notes so I remember things that happen in case I, um, you know…”
He told him. Namjoon found himself spilling every detail he’d kept from Jimin: his father’s abuse, his mother’s abandonment, the bullying, the poverty and Namu. He told Jimin everything he knew about Namu, and the things he knew he’d done. He wasn’t proud of them. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Jimin didn’t say anything; he only listened. It felt nice telling it to someone who wasn’t a doctor. Doctors always wanted to examine and observe him. His disorder was considered pretty rare, and it was so complex. He was positive it was why Burgess let him be in the hospital, even as an out-patient with a suspended license. An immense weight came off his shoulders by the end of the hour, and being peppered by Jimin’s kisses made it better.
“Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked, kissing Jimin softly.
“I do,” he answered. “How can I not forgive you?”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you still didn’t,” he said. “I did a pretty shitty thing.”
“But you’ve made up for it more than once. I love you far too much to just not forgive you.”
To be loved. Namjoon realized, looking down at Jimin’s soft face, that being loved was all he wanted. He wanted to be accepted by someone unconditionally. He knew then who he wished to spend the rest of his life with and kissed him softly. Jimin was his entire world, and nobody would take him away.
They’d found him in his office a few weeks later. Naturally, the police found footage of Tito sneaking down the hall into the laundry room and never being seen again. Namjoon and Namu both forgot about the cameras in the laundry rooms. They’d caught him in the grainy footage leading Tito into a storage room, and only Namjoon leaving the room. They’d spoken to Tito’s friends who told them that he and Tito made an arrangement to meet there. When searching his hospital room, home, and office, they found the notes he and Namu left one another. It was a simple mistake he felt stupid for not taking into account. Yet, perhaps he wanted to be caught.
Namjoon spent two months in a country prison awaiting the outcome of his trial. He called and wrote to Jimin every day, reassuring the younger one that he’d be home soon. Namjoon told the jury, the prosecutor and whoever else would listen that he couldn’t remember anything. The days leading up to that day came back in a fog, which meant Namu was in control. Of course, the act worked on the police and the jury, who felt sorry for the man who couldn’t control himself. His behavior in prison helped his case, not to mention Burgess telling the court his history and evaluation.
The only thing Namjoon admitted to was loving Jimin, whom he’d committed the crime for. The press ate the love story up: a psychologist falling love with his beautiful patient, and doing anything for him. They tried getting interviews with both Jimin and Namjoon about their relationship, but neither agreed to it. This left people to speculate the manner of their relationship, which Namjoon did not like. He did not love Jimin for just his looks. Jimin understood him and he understood Jimin. He’d found someone who he related to, and he could not help but love them.
The jury convicted Namjoon guilty of assault and murder. The judge sentenced Namjoon to a life sentence at Matthis Memorial Psychiatric Hospital. He claimed he’d done it at the behest of Dr. Burgess, who insisted separating Jimin and Namjoon would undo any progress they’d managed. He had never felt so relieved to go back to the hospital where Jimin waited for him.
The voice caught his attention when he entered the cafeteria. Namjoon saw Jimin run to him, and leap into his arms. He didn’t care if Phil told them to break it up; he’d missed Jimin and his lips. The pair shared a deep, passionate kiss that rivaled iconic kiss scenes.
“I missed you,” Namjoon said on his lips, pecking them as he placed Jimin back on his feet. “I missed you so damn much, I thought I was gonna go insane.”
“I missed you too,” he replied. “I might’ve died if you didn’t come back to me.”
Namjoon kissed him again, and knew he was where he belonged: In Jimin’s arms.
These are some photos I took on muster day 💫🤍
My child is completely fine
Your child happiness depends on these 7 men..
76. bts ‘2021 muster sowoozoo’ pajama photocard scans
Namjoon: I woke up tired like 8 years ago and man I haven't recovered since.
namjoon's patience being tested in american interviews, a never ending saga
Genre: Fluff so much fluff. Arranged Marriage fic.
Pairing: Namjoon x OC
A/N: Aaaaaa this is the first fic I'm posting ever ever. It's basically a way to follow the red thread of my desires. OC is named Brishti. She's Indian. She's Bengali & curvy & an introvert. This whole fic is 90% going to be a slow burn fluff fic about two introvert nerds getting to know each other. Seriously there's like hardly any real angst, maybe slight angst about okay when are these two going to bang - if you look very carefully but basically its just slooooow fluuuufff. Hopefully you all like it. Please let me know what you think. Current Chapter: This one is loooong. Remember this is all happening in the 1960s. OC & Namjoon are both really well off first gen immigrants. In this chapter we have our couple coming closer together - talking about some issues they've both had in their lives. Also this is the chapter where you'll get to know one of my favourite Namjoon songs and like why the OC is named what she's named. Also just a reminder because im a bit paranoid - Rim Jhim (referred to as Rim) is our OC Brishti. Its a pet name that's introduced in this chapter. And Namjoon being the wordsmith that he is makes it shorter, with the korean meaning of the word.
Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface-ish Chapter 1
And so it went for the next few days, the two of them quietly discovering each other. They were finding out the normal, casual, small things - how he didn’t like mint chocolate, how she loved bitter black coffee. Since both of them worked, they decided to split the chores at home. It worked out great because Namjoon liked to sweep & Brishti loved to do the dishes. They both struggled to cook but they decided to learn how to cook each other’s cuisines. So she was learning how to make kimchi (the green onion one) & he was learning how to prepare daal (the yellow one). They split the rent & decided to create a separate bank account for their savings. Talking about money increased warmth because they discovered that neither valued it excessively.
Slowly, they began talking about things a little more intimate. Meanings of names were revealed. She was impressed that his name meant genius. And he loved that hers meant rain. Pet names were introduced. He called her Rim - an even shorter version of her daak naam Rim Jhim. He told her to call him Joon. She looked away, smiling, then - silently telling him they’re not there yet. What he didn’t tell her was that he was already making up a fairytale about Joon, the genius & Rim, the brilliant jade that makes him so.
They spoke about books the most. Between them, they had half the globe's literature covered. She had read Indian authors & Russian & Spanish ones. He loved Korean authors, Japanese literature & all the Greek Classics. He geeked out about philosophy & poetry while she nerded over nature writing & music. They spoke about how they might take a look at other European writers & musicians together. To that end, Namjoon brought home a book of love poems by Rilke.
He hadn’t told her that he wrote poetry too. He hadn’t mentioned anything because it seemed like an indulgence of the past, poetry. But that night everything changed. After a late dinner, Brishti had asked to read aloud from the book he’d brought. As she read ‘To Music’, Namjoon saw tears float in her eyes. Secretly, something inside him had wept too. And just like that, he knew he would begin writing soon.
Each week the two watched late shows of classic hollywood musicals in a nearby theatre because they’d decided against a tv in their home - opting, instead, for a record player. Meeting for a movie each of the two Fridays they’d spent together so far was an experience both looked forward to - not only for the movie. In the darkness of the movie theatre, they experienced the first glimpses of intimacy. Soft smiles, whispering, silent glances, hands caressing each other. He loved how she laughed with abandon. She loved that he would tear up during the emotional scenes.
Her smile was getting wider, warmer toward him, Namjoon noted everyday. He’d been sleeping separately since their wedding night because he wanted her to feel safe. He was mostly okay with that except if he thought about it… If he thought about a time when he would get to touch her - Namjoon almost felt dizzy with feelings.
This happened the most when he saw her read by the window, he ached to touch her. That was her - Brishti - that was who she was at her core. Reading, running her fingers through her short hair, staring out the window, thinking, looking at clouds & then going back to reading. She was still quiet, but less so. She spoke about the rain and the trees and when she was happiest, he learned, when she really trusted that no one was going to judge her, she spoke about the moon. It had happened twice in the last few days.
He couldn’t stop looking at her. As though that needed reasoning, he thought about it at the office too. It wasn’t the only answer he could come up with but Namjoon had never seen a body like hers. She didn’t seem brittle or delicate, the way most women looked - or were “supposed to look”. She didn’t care what a body is supposed to look like, at least, it seemed that way to him. Brishti’s curves were not subtle. She was short and while almost everyone was shorter than him, Brishti was just… sexily so. She’d do these things… seemingly normal, everyday things but they would quickly, embarrassingly, inspire an arousal in him. Like, that thing she did, when she stretched after waking up or even if she stretched her arms or her neck… for some reason that turned him on so much, he’d have to hide… or excuse himself. His breath hitched, everytime he thought about how he hadn’t still actually seen her body.
Brishti, too, enjoyed looking at him from afar. Sharing, creating a living space with a man was never something she thought she would enjoy. They had exchanged the basic stories of how they had reached each other.
Namjoon had said, “I’d met a couple of women… girls… but they just seemed either plastic or porcelain… you know? I mean, not all of them could have been that but that's how they… presented themselves? You… I saw your photos in a pile that the matchmaker labelled ‘rubbish’”
“Yeah… I’m sorry but it’s actually a compliment to be labelled ‘bad’ by a matchmaker. That’s why I was looking in that pile in the first place… when I heard you wanted to keep working… Honestly I was so relieved...”
She smiled, “At least you got a look at me… I didn’t even know what you looked like till we met. I had no choice at all. A boy had agreed to marry me - despite… me… so that was the end of it. That was the bargain with my brother… otherwise I wouldn’t have been allowed to work either.”
“Wow… I’m so sorry, Rim. That’s really… really unfair.”
“Hmm yeah… I just figured if I can keep earning & the man turns out to be wrong, at least I can leave.”
“That’s… thanks for not leaving...”
Brishti smiled, “I got lucky...”
Namjoon understood, then, that Brishti might be an introvert but that did not mean she was shy. She made him blush & laugh. She made him speak without inhibition. The more time he spent with her, his feelings poured out.
“Thanks… It’s been really nice to share this home with you. Just to have you to talk to… My life was not going that great...” he said.
Brishti nodded, even though she already knew this. Whatever he said, strangely, she could see a deeper melancholy behind it. They spoke about being strangers in a strange country. She told him how she had to fight at the library for Tagore to be considered classic literature. How she was slowly but surely, being accepted in the oddball group that ran the library. She was not the only non-english person there, so things were easier for her. Besides, true readers had always been more accepting of the different.
Something made her regret sharing her happiness about this because his struggle in this foreign land was far more intense… she could sense pain behind the words he used. Namjoon did not enjoy his job the way she did. He worked overtime most days and came home bone-tired. Kim Namjoon was in many ratraces at the same time - races Brishti felt he didn’t want to participate at all. Being a lawyer, being an asian - the ‘model minority’, being a slightly well-off Korean in a sea of white men, in a sea of less fortunate asians who were being treated much worse than him. Trying to create a name, an identity of his own was wearing him out... chipping away at his soul.
Brishti sometimes saw him and saw a great banyan cutting itself down, trying to be a shrub just to fit in. When she asked him how his day was, he always smiled. It was real, the smile and yet it couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes. Something that was beginning to bother Brishti more and more, these days. He... had begun to matter more and more these days.
Now, about two weeks into their marriage, she was experiencing butterflies about the smallest things; Things like watching him sleep on the fold out, bringing him coffee in the morning. She felt a pull deep inside her take over when he would come out of the shower in the bathrobe, skin glistening from the shower & musky man-scents launching her body in a fantastical arousal & her mind in overdrive. Somedays, Brishti even went for a shower after he’d been, just so she could soak in his essence & bathe in a trance she had never felt before.
On their third weekend together, Namjoon didn’t have to go to work the whole weekend. He’d spoken to his superior at the firm to let him have weekends free - after all, he was married now. Post lunch that Saturday, Brishti and he kept unpacking, organising while talking (well, later on, it was just coffee & talking) into the early hours of Sunday. They spoke about things they loved, people they had loved. About fictional crushes and real ones. Both of them spoke about their past relationships. Something Brishti was delighted about - especially since Namjoon told her he was not the type to hold someone’s past against them.
Brishti couldn’t believe it when Namjoon had correctly guessed, “It was the photographer, right?”
“What-?! How- Where- How did you…?” Brishti couldn’t even form a question.
“Your photos, at the matchmakers… something was different. All the other pictures women give out for arranged matches seem... fake. Yours were… real… private. You looked comfortable… looked like you were being teased...” What he didn’t say was how much it seemed in those pictures like she was with someone she truly liked… maybe even loved.
Sat on the ground opposite Namjoon, Brishti kept her gaze on him. It unnerved Namjoon that she could really see him. She unnerved him further when she said, “You should say what you aren’t saying… or… asking?”
“Did you love him?”
“Not really… it was just... a different kind of friendship… ended almost as soon as it began. But I- I don’t regret it. It wasn’t the kind of love-” she trailed off. She looked away, smiling but trying to hide it. The same way she had in the photograph.
He pressed further just to tease her “Kind of love...?” Namjoon was intrigued because she was blushing now & he wanted to plant a thousand pecks on her. Instead he said, “So you can just… stop what you were saying? Mmm. Okay. I see.”
She looked at him then, “I’m feeling… a lot… of… different things these days. Especially because of a couple of dimples...”
Just like that, she turned the tables & his dimples appeared. He blushed, “Yeah… same. I mean… you don’t have dimples but I’ve-”
She nodded to let him know she understood. And then asked, “Uhm... Have you… had sex?”
Namjoon bit his lip, “Yeah… yes. I... had a girlfriend in law school. It… uh… wasn’t serious… for her.”
Brishti looked away nodding, as if stopping herself from saying something.
He looked at her… knowing what she probably wanted to say. He wanted to hug her but he only said, “It doesn’t matter, does it? For me it doesn’t. Doesn’t matter if you’ve had sex too… I know how people can be about virginity… I- honestly… it's just another way to control people.”
She looked at him with a mixture of emotions. She took a minute to compose herself & then said, “I’ve never met a man like you… and it's a little confusing and annoying… Not that you are annoying… not at all. It’s just the world is annoying because this is how low the standard is for a man. A man accepting that the woman has a past makes him… forward…? But of course the woman has to… because, well, he’s a man and he has needs. We’re all told that… Shirley... who works with me… she knows it too. Women just aren’t supposed to talk about their pasts. All women.”
She paused & got flustered further because of how dedicatedly Namjoon had been listening. It really seemed as if he was taking notes. The serious expression on his face, it made Brishti's ears feel hot. Almost as a distraction, she went on -
“It's crazy but that seems to be the only thing THE WHOLE WORLD has agreed on - they can’t agree on one way to make bread but they all agreed that women are inferior. It’s such a basic thing to just let me work… because I want to… but it's annoying that it makes me feel lucky. My best friend had to go through hell because she thought she could trust her husband with the truth about her past… so it makes me feel lucky that… you won’t…”
Namjoon could see the pain in her words. Maybe that’s how she could always sense the pain in his words, he thought.
After a calming silence passed over them, he spoke - “I won’t. I don’t really know what it’s like for a woman. And… maybe you won’t like to hear this, but… I was the same, Rim... I was the man my society had trained me to be. Everything changed when I came here. When, for the first time in my life, I understood what it’s like to be treated inferior. Since then, I just… I cannot be the cause of a feeling like that within anyone... So… you’re right. I’m not doing anything everyone shouldn’t already do. All of this should be normal. Expected. Hopefully the world learns a bit faster…”
Brishti smiled at Namjoon. She chuckled when tears pooled up in her eyes. He instinctively reached out for her & placed a hand on her leg, just below her knee. A jolt went through Brishti and she looked surprised. He did too. Namjoon retracted his hand immediately & looked away, blushing. That’s when Brishti laughed out loud. She stood up. And asked him to stand up, silently.
He did. It always made Brishti’s heart flutter just how gorgeous and tall he was. Someday, she would tell him. Someday, she would show him. For now, she couldn’t help feeling bashful as she asked, “Can I get a hug, Joon?”
This was the first time she’d used the pet name that he’d asked her to call him by. This was what his family called him. And her using this name assured Namjoon of just that - she was becoming family. Her question had made his heart flip. He moved without really thinking, because this is what his body had wanted since the day he saw her. He pulled her up in his arms. He felt like he was melting. She was soft. Warm. Beautiful. And in his arms.
Brishti gasped a little when Namjoon had scooped her up in his arms. She was on her toes, literally & figuratively. She held onto him, less as a hug & more as support… at first. Then, she felt his arms… the strong arms that she had been ogling at, around her. It was as if a knot came undone, within her, suddenly. And in its place, the softest silk suddenly flowed through her body.
She closed her eyes and breathed him in. The same essence that she’d been soaking in after he had showered, that she had been breathing in whenever he would pass by or reach past her. The essence that she had now become so hungry for that she had been secretly sleeping with the shirt he’d worn from the laundry basket. That essence was now all over her. Her chin turned up, resting on his shoulders, her cheeks touching his, her hands - on their own - reached the nape of his neck and began to play with his hair.
When she did that, Namjoon held her tighter, pressed her on to him. He felt her body react to his. One hand reaching her shoulder around her back, he moved the other closer to her waist, so his hands could fold over her curves. He could feel her breath hitch when he did that.
Brishti was revelling in the feeling of his hands, his fingers, feeling his fingertips press into her - that was a feeling she could never have imagined making her so... so... drunk. She was drunk. She ran her hands up and down his vast back, all the way up to his hair. All of a sudden she could feel herself overcome with emotion. Tears began pooling in her eyes again. And she said, before it was too late, she said, “Thank you, Joon, for everything… thank you.”
When he heard the tremble in her voice, Namjoon pulled away, just so he could see her. Brishti quickly retracted too - to wipe off her tears, trying to laugh off the silliness, apologising. Namjoon replied, “It’s okay… I understand… I… Thank you, Rim. I hope you… you know what I mean...” What he wanted to say, what he hoped she understood was that she was what was helping him come alive. But being unable to, Namjoon knew someday he would. Someday soon.
Brishti nodded to say she understood. Namjoon tried to lighten the atmosphere, saying, “You’re not… just anyone, you know? So… maybe you should tell me something I could do which is… not just basic decency, but something that can be considered truly feminist, you know. I’d love to do that for you.”
Brishti smiled and nodded. She suddenly felt tired & almost of its own accord, her body stretched into a yawn. She said, “I’ll think of something. We- I should go now… Do you want- anything?...” Brishti was delighted about how drunk she had gotten from one hug. It was exciting that she knew she’d be sleeping with the sweater he had tossed in the laundry basket tonight. She decided to take a bit more time to enjoy being intoxicated without a substance, together and alone.
Later that night, as Namjoon laid on his fold out sofa, alone, he thought of how great it had felt to have Brishti in his arms. To have someone who wanted to know about his day. To feel her heartbeat, like raindrops, knocking on his chest like it was a window pane, almost as if asking to be let in…
Thoughts like these, they made Namjoon reach for the notepad & pen that he always kept close by. He wrote. He wrote of being world weary and suddenly having a friend. Suddenly feeling like the world wasn't rushing him, that he didn’t need to run, that he could take time, be slow, be a poet. His heart tugged at his pen as it wrote lines about what it felt like to have someone cry for him. To have someone be full of feelings for him, to have someone to embrace his weary body. He wrote about how he missed that embrace and yet it was okay… as long as she was still here, maybe not just next to him, yet. Maybe someday. It was okay because she asked how he was every day and Brishti was here, forever. Namjoon felt tears run down his own face, as he titled the first poem he’d written in almost five years - Forever Rain.
Oooooh god you read it?! Thank you so much! Please please let me know what you thought! Get into my messages about it! I would love nothing more than to hear what you felt about this!
🍏. Em caso de inspiração, me credite.
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we’re born in the moonlight
ain’t no fantasy
can’t breathe in the sunlight
gotta hide your heart
we’re born to be sad
suffer to be glad
that’s how it’s supposed to be
all the pain and all the sorrow
that’s our destiny, see?
we gotta dance in the rain, dance in the pain
even though we crash down,
we’re gonna dance in the plane
우리에겐 누구보다 밤의 풍경이 필요해
we, more than anyone else, need the night scenery
그 어느 누구도 아닌 나만이 날 위로해
only I, not anyone else, comfort myself
it’s okay to shed the tears
but don’t you tear yourself
moonchild, you shine
when moon rise, its your time
moonchild, don’t cry
when moon rise, it’s your time
떠나도 절대 한 번도 떠나지지가 않아
you leave but you cannot actually get to leave even once
죽고 싶다며 그만큼 넌 또 열심히 살아
you say you want to die but live it much harder
다 내려놓고 싶다며 또 다른 추를 달아
you say you want to put everything down but you carry another weight
생각하지 말잔 생각조차 생각이잖아, you know
even the thought of not having a thought is a thought, you know
사실은 우린 이런 운명이란 걸
that this is, in fact, our destiny
끝없는 고통 속에 웃는 거란 걸
that we smile in endless pain
자유를 말하는 순간 자윤 없어
that there is no freedom the moment you say freedom out loud
달의 시간에 영혼의 눈으로 저 밤하늘을 봐
in the moon’s hours, look at the night sky through the eyes of your soul
너에겐 보여줄 거야 너의 창 너의 시간
it will show you your window and your time
알고 있니 저 가로등에도 가시가 많아
did you know? that street lamp also has many thorns
저 명멸하는 빛을 자세히 한 번 쳐다봐
take a close look at that flickering light
야경이란 게 참 잔인하지 않니
isn’t a night scenery such a cruel thing
누구의 가시들이 모여 펼쳐진 장관이
a splendid view unfolded before us that is made up of someone’s thorns
분명 누군간 너의 가시를 보며 위로받겠지
someone else will surely be comforted by looking at your thorns
우린 서로의 야경, 서로의 달
we are each other’s night scenery, each other’s moon
My best friends baby sister(15) just became an ARMY so I bought her an album and after all the hype she goes
“ice, what do I do with this round mirror thing?”
It took me a min to realize she was talking about the CD 🙂