a world on fire

growth

The next few weeks pass by Namjoon like a blur. His pack members come and go, alternating between keeping a close eye on Namjoon and going to wherever it was that they were keeping Jungkook. Namjoon doesn't pry, he doesn't ask them where he is. Part of himself doesn't want to know, and he aches at the thought. He could never hate the younger boy, but he feels broken now. His nightmares are plagued by the heavy scent of cinnamon, the earthy scent scratching at the back of his throat until he feels the urge to throw up.

He's been sick almost everyday for the past two weeks, and he doesn't miss the worried stares that his pack have been throwing his way. The first time it happened Namjoon was able to keep it a secret, washing away the small remains of his meagre breakfast down the drain of the shower cubicle. He hadn't been so lucky since then, waves of nausea hitting him hard enough to cause him to slump down onto the floor as his long legs wobbled and collapsed beneath him.

Namjoon can faintly hear the alphas talking about him from outside of the bedroom. He still hasn't returned to his own room, and he doesn't know if he ever will be able to again. He feels insanely guilty sleeping in Jimin's bed like this, sprawled out and taking up every inch of space. But the beta doesn't protest, he doesn't say anything, instead opting to thread his fingertips through Namjoon's messy bed hair and tickling through his fresh undercut. He wants to know what his alphas are saying, but the words are muffled as though they are talking underwater.

The door cracks open an inch then and Namjoon quickly shuts his eyes, pretending to still be asleep. Jimin shifts around on the bed but Namjoon can still feel him sitting on the edge. There's a deep sigh, followed by the creaking of someone sitting down next to the beta. A soft hand rubs up and down Namjoon's leg then, and he has to fight back at the urge to kick away and scream. He manages to choke back his scream and stays deadly still, breathing in the rich scent of roses.

"I think we need to take him to a doctor," Jin mutters, hand leaving Namjoon's leg.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" Jimin answers back, his voice laced with worry.

"I'm not sure, but it can't be good. He keeps being sick and his body isn't holding any food down. Look how skinny he's getting," Jin whispers, and the alpha lightly presses a finger into his one of his thighs.

"He's a bit pudgy there," Jimin states, and Namjoon feels a soft hand rubbing around his stomach.

Namjoon knows exactly what they're talking about. He'd been steadily losing weight from the rest of his body, his cheeks giving way to well defined cheekbones and his plush thighs almost withering away. But each time he stared into the bathroom mirror sideways he saw it, his tummy pushing out ever so slightly from the skin. It was soft and squishy, and Namjoon's chest tightened from fear whenever he thought about it. He pushed the thoughts to the side, feeling bile rising at the back of his throat and threatening to spill over.

There was a darkness growing inside of him. Soon he would be burst open at the seams, forced to bring a life into the world that he had no intentions of creating. It felt so wrong, turning to the side and seeing his stomach sticking outwards with the life that was rapidly growing inside of him. It reminded him of the resilient weeds and grasses that he sometimes saw anchoring in the cracks of the city's sidewalks, thriving where they had no right to be. No matter how many times they were pulled out, their roots were stuck. The seed had been planted, and now Namjoon was forced to deal with the consequences.

He didn't create life. He couldn't picture himself holding a child within his long arms. The image didn't sit right in his chest, and the tears suddenly spill over. He didn't want it, he didn't want this thing that was sucking the life out of him like a leech. He felt a deep urge to grab a kitchen knife and plough it into his stomach, but he knew he could never do that. His pack would never allow him, and his inner omega would rather that he died himself than take the life that had been put inside of him.

For the first time in his life Namjoon didn't know what to do, and it scared him. He normally had a tight hold on his life, planning out his steps cautiously and making sure he always had options available to him. It was the only way he could survive, but now he found himself clueless. His words were choked up in the back of his throat and he had started to tremble, hands balled tightly into fists as he willed his tears away. He wasn't weak. He could deal with this. But he didn't want to. He wanted someone to take the problem away, to take away the seed that was firmly rooted inside of him before it had a chance to even grow.