💌
GCSE courses were starting in seven months. namjoon started them at age seven. he often wondered why he was like this but, truly, he was scared to know the answer. so the question never left his mouth. it stayed in his mind: unbothered and unanswered.
but that often led to another question: 'why doesn't namjoon kim want to know why he's like this?' which scared namjoon even further. and when he thought further he realised how much he was scared. if you ask him about his existence it will make him shake. if you ask him about his personality it will send him a cold sweat. if you ask him about his need to constantly be the best? he will cry.
disgustingly.
even more disgusting to him was the classroom he was in. the teacher excreted unhygienic smells like it was her job, and namjoon found himself nearly convinced. kia graham had chewing gum and she chewed it so loud namjoon felt he needed to rip his ears out. zakim james couldn't keep his hands off of his girlfriend, daniela smith, that sat next to him, the two were right in front of him. faizaan rahzak had a habit of whispering sexist and/or racist jokes to his friend rayn but rayn sat two rows in front of faizaan so it was more telling than whispering meaning the teacher had to stop herself at least twice in a sentence to ask faizaan and rayn to shut up.
worst of all sat right next to the boy: yoongi min. the fucking worst person in this class. a fucking backstabbing snitch.
despite all this, he listened diligently to his teacher, wanting his grades and wanting to get out.
"alright now! you are top set i shouldnt have to take ten minutes just to assign a project!" the teacher screamed, mumbled and confused whispers of 'there's a project?' came around and the older woman sighed in disbelief. namjoon thought she was a bit late to her disbelief but accepted it.
"listen kids, i'm assigning you a long term project okay? i know you guys have a lot of homework for other classes and with GCSE prep becoming a lot more noticeable in classes it's only fair that you get a while to do it. the deadline is in a month and two weeks, you will work on it with the person next to you."
namjoon felt his heart stop beating....
fuck. it was only an expression. damn it.
but suddenly everything felt too loud. too much. kia's gum was popping in his ear now. faizaan was screaming into namjoon's left side just to reach rayn on namjoon's right. hearing zakim and his girlfriend's fucking giggles almost made namjoon fucking loose it.
a hand on his shoulder. a voice that told him, "namjoon, you're having a panic attack."
oh, so that's what it was. that's what made namjoon feel like there were beetles in his fingernails and centipedes in his spine. that's what made the spiders dance along his neck and tousle his hair. a panic attack. a panic attack brought rotting food into his stomach and nausea in his throat. a panic attack put worms into his mouth and moths into his skull. the ants and fleas ran across his ribs and fluttering ladybugs were trapped in his skin. diseases were spreading.
(a/n: that was the most horrible paragraph i've ever written and now i can feel all of those things, oh the things i do for fan fiction.)
the voice next to him kept trying to speak but a glass bubble kept namjoon safe. or maybe the bubble trapped him. it's hard to tell when both sides of the spectrum seem like hell.
namjoon could feel everything. the material of his trousers caught each individual leg hair and the longer parts of his hair were reaching down and touching his neck. what felt like a ghost's finger slowly touched the left side of his face. his shirt was hot on his shoulder and freezing cold in the middle of his back. his socks and shoes were tight and his toes were touching each other. a loose strand of thread in his blazer was touching his face and there was a hand on his shoulder.
"get the fuck off of me, min," namjoon seethed.
"i'm sorry," yoongi whispered but he remained stern, "listen, man, i want a good grade as much as you do so can we just get on with it?"
"i'd rather climb into a grave with your parents' rotting corpses than make this easy for you." yoongi felt a harsh static run through his body. "you can never know how much i want this, min. you fucking prick."
namjoon turned to his workbook and spun his pen around his fingers. there was no more sympathy left in namjoon kim. he only existed on earth to be successful and to make his parents proud and love him again. anyone around him who didn't help was an obstacle that namjoon refused to let stop him.
yoongi expected to feel some anger, resentment to namjoon's words but empathy seemed to work through his brain instead. why did he care for namjoon kim, a boy who didn't care for him? a boy that he ruined.
the guilt hadn't left yoongi and yoongi made sure that no one knew about that. in fact, no one even knew that yoongi started the rumour about namjoon. not even jungkook or seokjin, yoongi's closest friends, but jimin did and it surprised yoongi that the boy hadn't done anything with the information.
something was bound to happen sooner or later and that scared yoongi min and namjoon kim.
namjoon scribbled in his planner the details of the project all whilst having an internal, mental conversation with himself (multitasking extraordinaire).
'maybe we're being too mean. yoongi is still human at the end of the day and bringing up his parents was a low blow.
maybe this is just how life is. life is sickly and lonely, namjoon, you don't have time for anyone but your mother and father. blood is thicker than water, you know.
if life is how you say then we should put in the work to make it the opposite and you forget that the end of that saying is that blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
the 'covenant' we speak of betrayed us.
who cares?!
our privacy cares! nobody needs to know anything about you, nobody wants to know anything about you. in fact, you should just lock yourself in a room and stay there until you die.
you wish you could, don't you, namjoon kim? well you can't. you're selfish for even thinking that maybe you could. you think you're so much better than everyone else that you can just leave your mess for someone else to clean up? you fucking pig.'
💌
namjoon was jolted out of his thoughts by the school's lunch time alarm and he sighed. his fingers ran through his hair and he got up, tired of his continuing internal monologue. after packing up his stuff he made his way to his teacher, the creepy crawlies from earlier hadn't left.
"ah namjoon, the only well-behaved student in my class, what can i do for you?" the teacher said with a cheery smile. namjoon laughed airily and scratched at the back of his neck, trying to get the spiders off.
"yeah, uhm, listen, miss... about the project--"
"namjoon, i'm not dumb or an idiot. i know you and yoongi have a history but i hope that won't affect the presentation."
"miss, i can't work with him! this isn't about my resilience this is about how he can't be a decent person."
"namjoon this was planned out for a reason. your skills and your devotion to this subject need to be tested." namjoon sighed.
why did they need to test him? why did they need to put him through hell just to find out how resilient he was? wouldn't it be easier for namjoon to just say 'i can't do anything, i am terrible' ? well, yes, it would be easier. however, namjoon couldn't let people just assume he was terrible at things.
"miss, i'm being genuine, i swear i'm not trying to be rude but i cannot stand him. a lot has happened in these last three months."
namjoon's eyes pleaded with pain and he knew his teacher could see that. he knew that others knew about the shit he goes through, thanks to the snitch. they pretended everything was alright, acted friendly, but as soon as namjoon turned the corner the whispers started. those fucking whispers. no one in his stupid goddamn school had the balls to just talk shit to namjoon's face. a bunch of cowards.
"i'm sorry, namjoon, there's just nothing i can do. i do hope you pick geography for yours GCSEs. go have your lunch now, kiddo, i'm sure it's been a long day and you're hungry."
namjoon sighed and his fists were curled. his nails were digging into his skin. deeper, deeper and deeper like a miner looking for diamonds. except all he found was blood.
namjoon bled a lot. mainly through his eyes, though the blood ran clear and salty instead of red and metallic. namjoon turned and walked out of the classroom seeing someone he truly did not want to see.
yoongi didn't know why he was listening, he knew it was only going to hurt him. he knew that namjoon was not about to praise the ground he walked on and big yoongi up. so... why? why was yoongi here? why was he doing this? did he just want to see himself and namjoon suffer further?
he listened as namjoon kept trying to get the teacher to change her mind but she was persistent. yoongi knew namjoon could be too but he had too much respect for his elders. or maybe namjoon just pretended to respect the teachers just so he could get his grades and get out.
hm.
yoongi gasped and froze as namjoon exited the classroom, even more on edge than earlier. as yoongi continued to scan namjoon's face, it looked more scared than angry. the boy was scared, he was curling in on himself and his tall height slouched. yoongi recognised this type of namjoon and he didn't expect this namjoon to leave anytime soon.
namjoon scowled at yoongi.
"what are you waiting for?" the boy asked.
"the fuck does it matter to you, kim? also, for your information, im a fucking delight to be around. you're the one who gave joseph a concussion, not me."
"you think you're so smart-"
"yeah, namjoon, i do think im so smart. and what of it? just because you're so insecure about everything in your life that you have anxiety attacks the moment you realise people can comprehend your existence doesn't mean we all do that." yoongi sneered with an insincere smile.
"at least i don't go around telling people about your abusive uncle, huh?"
yoongi's eyes flickered with tears for a split second. namjoon knew he won and he felt good. a warm feeling rushed through his veins.
yoongi felt like shit. why does he always manage to start things like this?
💌
namjoon closed the door behind him and kicked off his shoes, surprised at the lack of noise. picking up his shoes, he opened the second door and greeted his puppy with a cautious amount of quiet.
"monie, what's happening..?" he whispered to the dog that padded along the laminate floor beside him. they walked down the empty hallway.
on either side of him were empty nails in the walls, clear that the last owner of the flat hung up pictures there. namjoon wondered why people did that. why people hung up pictures of their family in their homes, it was an odd concept to him.
"dad? are you here?" namjoon called out, being met with silence.
a creaking came from his parent's room. two voices. namjoon's shoes clattered as they met the floor. the voices were slightly muffled but namjoon heard them clear.
"you have a son?! you're married?!"
"ignore him! they're both fucking useless anyways."
the silence returned for a moment and namjoon's glass eyes returned. monie whined at his feet. the bedroom door opened.
"hey... come on, kid... don't cry." the man said, his arms out awkwardly.
namjoon couldn't control himself. he sobbed and sobbed, his body shaking with each breath. the man walked towards him and hugged him, placing a hand comfortingly on his hair.
"it's okay, kid, it's okay... i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."
the young boy cried into this man's chest, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
only fourteen. namjoon was only fourteen.
fourteen year old namjoon was fluent in korean, english, french and urdu. fourteen year old namjoon was a straight A* student. fourteen year old namjoon came from a broken home. fourteen year old namjoon achieved MVP in any sport he played. fourteen year old namjoon had over ten gold medals. fourteen year old namjoon did not deserve this.
he didn't deserve this.
"oh my god, can you be anymore dramatic?! shut the fuck up or i'll actually give you a reason to cry, brat." namjoon sniffled and nodded, trying his best to escape the arms of the man that hugged him.
"what the fuck did you just say to him?" the man seethed, he finally let go of namjoon and turned around to face the boy's mother. "how the fuck can you say that to your own son?!"
"this is none of your business, aaron. get the fuck out of my home!" she screamed.
that seemed to be what namjoon's mother did best: screaming. she didn't have a job and namjoon didn't think she could call herself a housewife if namjoon did the cleaning around the flat and everyone made their own food.
namjoon found it funny that his mother was able to call this flat a home. she was the only one who did. she loved the place and it was decorated exactly to her taste. no wonder her husband slept on the sofa every night.
"go to your fucking room, namjoon." namjoon hesitated, he didn't want to. he wanted to stay with this man. this man was so nice! he hugged namjoon!
the more that namjoon thought about it, the last time he was hugged was years ago.
that hurt.
he apologised to his mother and bowed politely to the stranger before grabbing his shoes and dog and running to his room.
'fuck.' namjoon thought.
he scrubbed off his tears and changed into a vest and basketball shorts.
he scrolled through this phone and found yoongi's blocked user. he sighed knowing that he might as well unblock him now so they could discuss the project.
💌
"i'm home!" yoongi announced, tossing his bag into the porch and walking into the living room where his uncle sat on the beginning-to-wear-down sofa. "you drunk?" yoongi mumbled as he walked to the kitchen.
"jesus, kid, i get it, i drink a lot but i'm not an alcoholic." yoongi sighed and nodded. "don't bother, nothing to eat. don't have the money to get groceries." yoongi slammed the fridge shut.
"what the hell? there's like two six packs of beer in there! we're lucky to get benefits from the government! eomma and appa trusted you with this house that they brought-"
"could you shut up about your parents for once, yoongi-ah?!" yoongi froze.
'no. he's not drunk. he would never hit me whilst sober.'
"should just sell that piano," his uncle mumbled, "could get bare Ps for it."
yoongi scowled. "don't talk like that. you're a grown man." his uncle rolled his eyes. "you aren't selling my piano. your sister loved that piano. my mother loved that piano." the older man sighed.
the two boys missed yoongi's parents, there was no doubt about it. yoongi knew that his uncle hadn't gotten through his grief and the depression lingered around him constantly. the man and his twin sister were undeniably close. joined at the hip since birth, they did everything together. the man was one of his sister's bridesmaids. of course the woman meant it as a joke but even more of a joke was seeing her brother agree to it.
nobody expected what happened to happen. when yoongi's uncle was appointed godfather, the man laughed.
~
"lol, me? godfather?"
"yes, jihu. me and seojun want you to be yoongi's godfather. just in case anything ever happens to us. i trust you with my life and yoongi is my life."
"wow, pure poetry, jiho."
"jihu... i didn't think i could love someone more than i love my own husband but this child.. oh my goodness! he's perfect, ji, i can't believe i was blessed enough to give birth to a son like this."
~
"have you eaten?"
"yeah." yoongi glanced at his worn shoes. "have you not gotten any interviews for any jobs?" his uncle stayed silent. "i'm going upstairs." the man nodded and yoongi walked off, emotions flooding his brain.
he scrolled through his contacts as he lay on his bed, bored and trying to find someone to speak to. a notification appeared at the top of his screen.
nyumnyums
hey min.
yoongi choked on his own breath.
yoongi min.
hi.
nyumnyums
so, did you have any ideas for the project?
yoongi min.
yea actually! what about the amazon rainforest?
nyumnyums
pretty basic, don't you think?
yoongi min.
hm, ig. what did u have in mind then?
nyumnyums
how about the chernobyl accident? or even the extinction of the amur tigers since we are both obviously korean.
yoongi min.
really, namjoon? we're korean, i never would have guessed 😧
nyumnyums
..
ok..
listen, we have a month and a half to make a 20-30 minute long presentation about whatever geographical event we want. i would prefer to get this over and done with.
yoongi min.
i'm busy. i'll get back to u tmrw
nyumnyums
ok then.
💌
namjoon stared at the messages. a hunger raced through his body and he sighed.
cautiously, he opened his bedroom door and peered around the flat. his father was out drinking, his mother... he didn't know but she wasn't there. he walked out and to the kitchen.
he opened the fridge and looked around, there wasn't much, some bare necessities.
'hmm... should i make pasta for everyone?' namjoon thought. he looked down to where monie sat at his feet.
"what do you think, monie? will mum and dad eat it? i don't think they possibly could fault me for making food... i need to start being a better son, maybe then i won't be a failure to them." monie barked and padded his feet against the floor. "hm. ok! i'll make mum and dad some pasta." namjoon smiled at the puppy.
he chopped up some onions, tomatoes, garlic and began to cook up the sauce. he pottered around the kitchen, adding spices and stirring and cleaning as he went along, making sure everything was perfect.
just as the boy was plating the food, his father walked into the flat.
"dad!" namjoon exclaimed, the man just gave his son a harsh stare. "o-oh um i'm sorry... i'm making food for us all. i'm just waiting for mum to get back then we can start eating together. you know, like a family." his father raised an eyebrow. "i saw it on tv, they all gather at the dining table and they eat together and talk about their day and... it just seemed nice."
namjoon felt himself diminishing under his father's harsh gaze.
"don't know why you'd want that," the man said, his voice rough and deep, "word of advice, namjoon, your mother is like a succubus, don't ever think she's anything more than that."
namjoon's face contorted, he didn't appreciate hearing his mother being spoken about like that.
"please, dad..." namjoon whispered, not even expecting the man to hear him.
"fine, but don't expect anything good to happen from this." namjoon's body didn't react to his father actually agreeing with something he wanted to do but his soul did.
his soul lit up, it bounced off the walls, it was happy.
after namjoon finished placing the food on the table he poured himself some water and grabbed two wine glasses and some wine for his parents. he sat at the dining table with his father where they waited for around five minutes in silence before they heard the jingle of keys in the front door.
namjoon smiled awkwardly as his mother entered the flat, seeing her face for the first time since he had his moment. but something was off about his mother.
she lacked the confidence and narcissism she usually carried with her in her walk. she clutched her stomach and her eyes were puffy. namjoon's eyebrows furrowed.
"what is this?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, looking at the steaming plates of pasta that sat in front of her husband, son and an empty chair.
"i-i made dinner for us all, mum," namjoon said, standing up and tripping over himself a couple times as he went to pull out his mother's chair for her.
the woman looked at the boys in disgust.
"what? do you think this will make up for all of the years you made me suffer, kim namjoon? do you think a silly little dinner will get you your redemption?" namjoon stuttered at his mother's words, his heart broken again. "you selfish brat." namjoon looked down at his feet in shame.
his father stood up calmly. "just sit down misun. entertain the boy. just be a normal fucking mother for once in your life. eat your goddamn food."
his mother rolled her eyes but sat down. namjoon tucked her chair in and grabbed the wine bottle. he poured his father some first, and went to pour his mother some but she stopped him.
"you fucking idiot, i can't drink!" namjoon stopped, confused. then it clicked.
"mum... you're..." namjoon trailed off, he didn't want to finish his sentence, absolutely terrified.
"she's what? spit it out, namjoon." namjoon's father said, sipping at his wine. namjoon, however, stayed silent.
misun rolled her eyes. "i'm pregnant." she said with a sickly sweet smile.
"it's not mine, is it?" misun rolled her eyes at the question.
"congrats, you stupid fucking scholar. i already made the mistake of letting you fuck me and i produced the most useless idiot ever, what the fuck are you just standing there for?! sit down! you wanted this so much!" namjoon whimpered and sat down, scared of his mother.
"eat your food, namjoon." namjoon jumped at his father's words but other than that, he didn't move. "i said eat."
namjoon started to shovel the food into his mouth but his parents stared at each other. namjoon wanted to cry. he wanted to kill himself. there was no way his mother was going to keep this child and if she did there was no way this kid would survive, namjoon barely did himself.
"i want a divorce."
"no!" namjoon screamed, his hands shaking. his father raised an eyebrow at his son's outburst.
"this has nothing to do with you, kim namjoon. know your fucking place." namjoon's hands gripped at the tablecloth.
"you can't... dad you- mum you two can't- what about the baby?! what about me?!" namjoon cried out. in his mind he was screaming at himself, screaming that he needed to shut up. this wasn't how you got your parents to love you.
his mother got up with a calm, silent demeanour, she walked up to her son and paused before striking him across the face. the boy fell to the floor and his hands curled into fists though he knew he'd never raise a hand to his parents.
namjoon kim could be one of the strongest, smartest students at school but at home he was merely a scared, weak little kid. a disrespectful, idiotic, useless child. a waste of space. a waste of the air he breathed.
"you do not ever raise your voice again. do you understand?" misun said whilst namjoon sobbed on the floor, the pain of hitting his head on the hard floor killed him, "answer the fucking question, namjoon."
"i understand! i understand, ma'am i promise i understand!" namjoon cried out, repeating it like a broken record.
"didn't even hit you that hard, get up brat. go to your room. useless piece of shit." namjoon spat out apology after apology and scrambled to his room.
namjoon's father glanced at misun suddenly worried about this baby.
💌
hoseok and jungkook stretched and warmed up to prepare for their practise which coincidentally landed on hoseok's birthday. jungkook was excited for the older. hoseok couldn't care less but he appreciated the effort his friends put in for him.
"hobi! hobi hyungie, i got you a present!" jungkook said, a bunny smile pressed onto his face. hoseok smiled and ruffled his hair.
"aw, JK, you didn't have to!" jungkook shook his head and opened his backpack, digging through it diligently. "how about we do it after practise?"
jungkook pouted but nodded, he knew it would be worth the wait anyways.
~
"nice, JK!" hoseok shouted, jungkook relished in the praise.
in the past few months jungkook had gotten exceptionally better at football. he practised everyday, rain or shine. hoseok was proud of jungkook, extremely proud.
"JK! come in for a breather!" hoseok's eyebrows furrowed. "oi! J!" why wasn't jungkook listening? hoseok got increasingly more worried, the boy had been playing non-stop for almost two hours.
soon enough, hoseok decided that jungkook was at his limit and ran over to the boy.
"JK, what are you doing? you're gonna hurt yourself. come on, have a breather." jungkook didn't respond, he just shoved hoseok off of him and continued with his practise. "jungkook. come on, this isn't funny."
"i need to get better."
"jungkook you are better. but you will get worse if you don't rest. you can't spend every waking hour going at it. not to mention you've had lessons today, you had PE today. you'll make yourself sick." jungkook finally stopped, he stared off into the distance. "kook?"
the boy collapsed following hoseok's words.
💌
"hm? what? what happened?" jungkook mumbled, rubbing his eyes. his mother, father and hoseok sat beside him. they were in a&e.
"don't worry, it's not too busy today, we'll be able to see the doctor soon."
"appa? eomma? why... hobi hyung?" jungkook was confused, he hit his head with his palm lightly, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the harsh lighting. "why aren't i at practice?" hoseok looked at the boy in disbelief.
"are you being serious? JK, you wouldn't listen to me! you kept going with your 'i need to be better' business. you were pushing yourself to the max for almost two hours straight! no water and i don't even know if you ate lunch today! you freaking collapsed, man! i was so worried," hoseok ranted, some of the families in the waiting area looking at him. he didn't care. he cared about jungkook. he cared about jungkook's wellbeing. he wanted jungkook to be better.
"i'm sorry hyung. i'm sorry eomma, appa."
hoseok sat down next to jungkook, his head hanging between his legs and arms in front of him, stressed.
jungkook saw his bag at his feet and smiled.
"happy birthday, hyung."
hoseok glanced over to jungkook to see a jersey more special to him than anything.
"no... no way! jungkook are you serious?! this is- oh my god! jungkook thank you so much!" hoseok squealed, hugging jungkook tightly. the younger boy laughed.
"you deserve it! and stop calling me jungkook, i'm JK to you!" hoseok laughed and went back to stare at his gift.
"how'd you even... woah! son heung-min! signed jersey!" jungkook smiled seeing hoseok so happy.
"bora," jungkook's father whispered to his wife.
"shush!" she replied, "i'm watching something." her husband laughed and kissed her hair.
"they like each other, don't they?"
"you truly are the smartest person i've ever met, darling."
💌
i spoke with the moon last night,
what she told me gave me quite the fright.
'i love the earth, it is beautiful'
i could not believe she was being truthful
i figured the moon out to be in awe of us
why she feels this way is what we discussed
'i love the way you breathe, you walk, you talk, you take, you give'
i said to her, 'my love, you love the way we live.'
'is there a difference?' she asked
i told her that everyone follows a different path
you cannot love the earth, it is too flawed
but you can love life, it is her you can adore