His Fragile Moon 🌙||Namjin ff||

Chapter - 16 His Fragile Moon

Midnight pressed against the penthouse windows like a held breath.

The city below was still awake-lights blinking, traffic moving in distant veins-but inside, everything felt paused. Heavy. Suspended.
Namjoon stood near the window, one hand braced against the glass.

He hadn't moved in a long time.

Yoongi's voice echoed in his head, uninvited and relentless.

Namjoon shut his eyes.

It wasn't the words that hurt most.

It was how calm Yoongi had been when he said them. How certain.

Then Jin's face intruded-unwanted, unavoidable.

Not crying.

Not angry.

Just the way his shoulders had folded inward.
The way his eyes had gone dull, like something precious had quietly switched itself off.

Joonie didn't like Jinnie.

The memory struck deeper than any accusation.

Namjoon's jaw tightened. His reflection in the glass looked unfamiliar-sharp, controlled, intact on the surface. A man who always knew what to do next.

Except now.

He had built companies from nothing.

He had negotiated men twice his age into silence.

He had survived loss by convincing himself he didn't need what he couldn't control.

But Jin-

Jin had never been a strategy.

Jin waited.

That was the cruelest part.

Namjoon dragged a hand down his face, breath unsteady for the first time all day. Midnight meant there was no excuse left. No work to hide behind. No urgency to postpone what he had broken.

Their bedroom door was still closed.

That alone felt wrong.

Namjoon stared at it from the hallway, chest tight. He could wait until morning. He could let sleep blur the edges of this guilt. He could tell himself Jin would forget.

But Jin didn't forget pain.

Jin held it quietly.

Namjoon lifted his hand and knocked.

Once.

Nothing.

His chest constricted. He knocked again-softer.

"Jin," he said, voice low. Careful. "It's me."
Silence.

He opened the door.

Jin was on the bed, curled inward, knees tucked tight to his chest. He wasn't asleep. His eyes were open-but unfocused, staring at the wall like he'd been left there and forgotten.

Namjoon stopped just inside the room.

Jin didn't look at him.

The sight cut deeper than anger ever had.

"Jin," namjoon said again, slower. "It's me."

Jin's fingers tightened in the blanket. That was all.

Namjoon took a step closer, then another-careful, like approaching something already wounded.

"I... need to talk," he said.

Jin shook his head immediately.

"No," he whispered. His voice was small. Flat.