“You should enter,” Jungkook advised.
“She wouldn't appreciate my presence.” Namjoon rejected the idea.
“Yes, she wouldn't if she were awake. However, considering she is currently asleep, I have consulted with the doctor; she won't be waking up anytime soon. Why don't you go inside and check up on her? Perhaps if there are any complications, we'll become aware.” Jungkook reasoned.
“Complications? What do you mean by that?” Namjoon's shock was evident.
“I was being satirical,” Jungkook clarified, mentally chastising himself for choosing the wrong words at the wrong time.
“This isn't the appropriate time for your platonic theories. However, what you said does make sense. I should check up on her.”
Namjoon reported, fabricating a lie to support Jungkook's theories. He desperately wanted to rush inside and embrace you in his arms. However, his lack of courage prevented him from entering.
“What if she suddenly wakes up?” Namjoon panicked.
“She won't, trust me!” Jungkook assured, pushing him inside and closing the door behind him. “Don't shout or bang the door; she'll wake up.”
He didn't actually lock the door, knowing Namjoon wouldn't bother checking it either, considering his distressed state. Gulping, Namjoon slowly proceeded, speaking in a low voice. “Y/N, are you asleep?”
Hearing no response, he spoke a bit louder. “Are you truly asleep?” Slapping his mouth, he cursed himself. “Are you an idiot? Do you wish to get caught?”
Sitting beside your resting figure, he noticed your hand; his fingers trembled. “Should I just hold it? What if she wakes up, and I panic? What if her initial reaction upon waking is to slap me upon finding me holding her hand?” Every possible reaction played in his mind.
“Forget it, it's better if I don't hold her hand. It won't wake her up, and I'll be safe. I don't mind being slapped by her. I low key deserve it. But, I need this moment to see her. How long has it been since I've taken the time to glance at her?”
The last time he remembered was the day you consummated your marriage, after which he chose to abandon you.
“Why am I such a heartless guy? She was right; falling in love with me was her biggest mistake ever.” Gently swiping the strand of hair that disturbed your eyes, he grinned. “Wow, you're so pretty.” Quickly covering his mouth, he awaited a reaction.
“Why do I have to be so loud?” Returning to staring at your face again, he sighed in relief that he didn't risk you waking up. “I detest smoking and that foul smell. And the reason is all you.” Reminiscing about the past, he recalled those days in university when he was an avid smoker. No one could stop him, not even you, or so he thought.
Lost in his thoughts, Namjoon found himself reminiscing about the moments you had shared together, both the good and the bad. He recalled the joy you had experienced during the early days of your relationship, as well as the pain and heartache that had followed. He acknowledged his role in causing you pain, recognizing that his actions had contributed to your suffering. Despite his desire to make amends, he couldn't shake the fear of rejection, knowing that he had hurt you deeply and that forgiveness might not come easily.
As Namjoon continued to wrestle with his emotions, he found himself longing for a sense of closure, a chance to make amends and seek forgiveness for his past mistakes. He yearned for the opportunity to express his remorse and to prove to you that he had changed, that he was no longer the same person who had hurt you in the past. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of his guilt lifting, replaced by a glimmer of hope for redemption.
In the quiet of the room, Namjoon found himself confronted with the harsh reality of his past actions and their impact on the person he loved. He realized that he couldn't change the past, but he could choose how to move forward. With renewed determination, he vowed to confront his fears and to fight for the chance to make things right, no matter the cost. As he reached out to gently grasp your hand, he whispered a silent prayer for forgiveness and a second chance at love.
༄❃༄
-THIRD YEAR OF UNIVERSITY-
Amidst the enclave of college peers, he stood, the tendrils of smoke curling around him as he indulged in the vice of nicotine. Clad in a casual ensemble consisting of a gray sweatshirt and black baggy pants, accentuated by a silver chain adorning his neck and a ring gracing his left hand, he emanated an aura synonymous with that of the quintessential bad boy. However, beneath this façade lay a surprising contrast, for he held the esteemed title of valedictorian within his department.
“You’re smoking again?” Your voice, tinged with disapproval, interjected as you instinctively closed your nose to shield yourself from the pungent fumes.
“How many times do I have to tell you to mind your own business, Y/N?” He chuckled dismissively, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air. “I won't quit smoking, not in this birth nor in any other.”
The exchange was one that had become all too familiar, a recurring cycle of your attempts to dissuade him from his habit, met with his steadfast refusal to heed your counsel.
With a sigh, you resigned yourself to the futility of your efforts, knowing deep down that his addiction was deeply entrenched and seemingly impervious to your influence. Yet, despite the frustration that simmered within you, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a silent prayer that perhaps one day he would recognize the folly of his ways and choose to embark upon the path to cessation.
As you observed him from afar, the distant echo of your admonishments resonating in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't help but wonder what it would take for him to break free from the chains of addiction and embrace a healthier lifestyle. It was a question that lingered unanswered, shrouded in the uncertainty of the future, yet imbued with the unwavering determination to see him overcome the demons that held him captive.
For in the end, it was not the words spoken or the actions taken that held the power to effect change, but rather the unwavering presence of love and compassion, guiding him towards the path of redemption and renewal. And so, with each passing day, you continued to walk alongside him, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness, steadfast in your belief that one day, he would emerge victorious in the battle against his addiction.
“Your habit will kill you and the people around you.” You cautioned, your voice laced with genuine concern, as he crushed the finished cigarette under his shoe and pulled out a new one.
“Yeah, yeah, we'll see who's the one facing death.” He scoffed, his friends joining in with laughter.
You were about to respond when a fit of coughing seized you, causing you to clutch your chest for support.
Rolling his eyes dismissively, he remarked, “Can you quit this act already? Nothing can stop me from smoking.”
But as he spoke, he noticed the distress etched on your face, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. It was a sight he had never witnessed before.
“Y/N!!!” With a surge of urgency, he rushed to your side, shooting a sharp glare at his friends who continued to mock you, exhaling smoke with gusto. Despite their laughter, he couldn't ignore the gravity of the situation.
“Stop smoking, throw them away right now.” Namjoon commanded, his tone urgent. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, they complied with his instructions. He rubbed your back gently, his concern evident.
“Let's get out of here!” He suggested, but there was no reply from you as you fainted. The boys around him were shocked. “Isn't it just smoke? Why'd she faint?” They murmured among themselves, noticing Namjoon panicking as he picked you up.
“Were you smoking weed in your cigarette?” they accused one another, their voices rising in argument. Namjoon glared at them before rushing to the infirmary with you in his arms.
The nurse wasn't expecting this turn of events, the college hunk rushing inside with a girl in his arms. Everyone knew of Namjoon and your friendship, and it did seem odd to them. The notable, notorious valedictorian was friends with a girl who was his complete opposite. The issue wasn't grades, but behavior. You were the belle, the most coquettish girl, while he was the rugged-up baddie who found himself in trouble on numerous occasions. Thanks to his grades, he managed to portray himself as a good guy and extricate himself from trouble.
“What happened to her?” The nurse examined your figure, her expression grave.
“We were smoking, and she was scolding me to stop.” Namjoon explained, his voice tinged with concern.
“Then I saw her holding onto her chest, crying. At first, I thought she was pretending to stop me from smoking, but then her condition worsened, and she fainted after finding it hard to breathe. Is she fine? Are her lungs okay? Did the smoke affect her lungs? What about her heart? Is it beating properly? Do we need an oxygen mask? She couldn't breathe properly there. Why aren't you using an oxygen mask to help her breathe?”
His barrage of questions left the nurse annoyed, yet she was grateful for his honesty in admitting his mistake.
“How many of you were smoking when she was present?” The nurse inquired, her tone firm.
Namjoon lowered his head, his voice barely audible as he replied, “Ten.”
Shaking her head in disapproval, the nurse proceeded to inject the IV tube into your arm. “Any average non-smoking person would find it hard to breathe among ten smokers. And from what you described earlier about her, it's possible she does have sensitive lungs. Has this happened before with her?”
Namjoon shook his head. “Not actually. She's visited my group before to lecture me on the disadvantages of smoking. The few times she did, she always wore a mask or made sure her nose was covered.”
The nurse nodded in understanding, silently acknowledging the importance of your precautionary measures.
“It seems like it's the first time she was exposed to passive smoke. Hence, it triggered her lungs. Don't let her get close to you again while you smoke. And young man, the lady here isn’t wrong. Smoking is not good for your lungs. In a few more years, you'd be easily prone to cancer. What about your wife and kids? Who will take care of them?”
The nurse's words hung heavy in the air as Namjoon rubbed his nape, his gaze fixed on your figure.
“She wouldn't want a guy with smoking issues to be the father of her kids.” The idea of you rejecting him because of his smoking addiction wasn't pleasant. His brain reminded him that the urge for revenge still lingered, yet he couldn't shake the warmth he felt in that moment, nor the unusual sensation in his heart.
“Yes, you're right. I should quit smoking,” he conceded, glancing back at your still form as he addressed the nurse. “Do I need to get her admitted to a hospital?”
“Let’s wait for her to wake up. If she doesn't in another hour, it's best to take her to a hospital,” the nurse replied, her tone measured.
He hoped you would wake up soon. The thought of his smoke harming your health and lungs unsettled him. “Why did I have to smoke so much today? No, why did I even choose to smoke today?” he muttered to himself, taking a sip of water to cleanse his palate of the lingering cigarette odor. “Have I always smelled like this? How did she bear this smell around me?”
You always seemed gleaming and happy around him once he was done smoking, a reminder that he was a good guy and smoking wasn't for him. He should quit hanging out with the bad guys, though the notion left him feeling frustrated. “Let me be the bad guy again,” he muttered, approaching one of his classmates. “Do you have spare clothes?” he asked, his tone softer now.
“Yes, I do,” the lean guy replied timidly.
“Lend them to me,” Namjoon requested, his fingers fidgeting as he rummaged through his lockers, the guy beside him handing over a pair of joggers and a t-shirt without hesitation.
“Thanks, man. I'll give them back to you tomorrow after a wash,” Namjoon promised, offering a grateful pat on the shoulder before striding away, leaving the other guy visibly shaken by the unexpected act of kindness.
As he walked, Namjoon couldn't help but overhear the guy's astonished mutterings. “Woah! Is that what it means to be super nice?” the guy marveled, his voice tinged with disbelief at Namjoon's departure from his usual demeanor.
In the privacy of the shower, Namjoon let the warm water cascade over him, washing away the sweat and grime of the day. With careful attention, he scrubbed away any lingering traces of cigarette odor, determined to rid himself of the telltale scent.
Emerging from the shower, Namjoon dressed in the borrowed clothes, casting a critical eye over his reflection in the mirror. Despite the borrowed attire, he couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort that lingered beneath his skin.
A newcomer, unaware of Namjoon's recent change of attire, approached him tentatively. “Yo, do I smell bad?” Namjoon questioned, his tone tinged with uncertainty.
The guy hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden inquiry. Sensing his unease, Namjoon pressed on, stepping closer. “Don't be afraid. Answer me honestly. Do I reek of cigarettes?”
Relieved, the guy shook his head emphatically. “No, man. You're good.”
Though the response was reassuring, Namjoon couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the back of his mind. Did the guy truly speak the truth, or was he merely trying to avoid confrontation?
Brushing aside his doubts, Namjoon resolved to focus on the task at hand. “Never mind,” he muttered to himself, shaking off his concerns. “Gotta hurry up and check up on her.”
Grabbing his backup bag, Namjoon tucked it securely under his arm before shoving it into his locker. Despite his efforts to rid himself of the cigarette odor, he couldn't help but notice the lingering scent that clung stubbornly to his belongings.
“This reeks of cigarette too,” Namjoon cursed under his breath, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he sniffed at the fabric. Satisfied that the scent had not transferred to his freshly laundered clothes, he made his way up the stairs, eager to put the incident behind him.
“Hopefully I smell good now,” Namjoon thought to himself, his steps quickening as he approached the room where you lay unconscious, his mind consumed with worry for your well-being.