Namjoon

Many say that you live a charmed life. Just a snap of your fingers can get you anything you want. That's what they think. The truth is, you've gone through a lot of bullshit to get where you are. Being the "underdogs" of the Korean music industry meant you all had to work harder to prove yourselves. From being cut out of tv appearances to claims of plagiarism, you've earned everything you have in life.

You believed once that you couldn't want anything more than to walk on the stage and have thousands of ARMY screaming the fan chants. It was music to your ears and was sweeter than the sound of the Han River rushing by on a warm, sunny afternoon.

But that was before Y/N. The moment you saw her walk into the Hybe building, everything around you vanished. You were no longer RM, leader of BTS. You were no longer a globally recognized face. Instead, you were just Kim Namjoon. A man that grew up in Ilsan with no status and little money. A man whose knees became weak at the sight of her beauty.

Your jaw dropped at her perfectly straight hair that shined in the natural light coming in through the many windows in the lobby. Your heart stopped when she stopped and laughed with Frannie at the front desk like they've been friends for years. Sweat began to form on your brow at the thought of approaching this goddess to find out her name. Y/N.

Saying her name aloud in the elevator reminded you of the first time you ever rapped into a mic. It was new, but it felt so right. An epiphany that your life was about to change, and there was no going back. A moment seared into your memory that will never fade. The moment you knew there would be no other woman for you. Once Y/N's name was uttered through your lips, no performance, no award to compare to the smile she gave you.

Now, those memories feel like a dull knife has been slammed into your heart. Your entire body feels as heavy as a sinking ship. Your world has crashed and burned, hit head-on by a semi going 200 kph on an icy road, heading down the mountain.

After that fateful meeting with Brett, you rode around L.A. for a while, needing to be alone. Eventually, you came across a park that didn't seem too crowded, and you decided you needed to go for a walk. Being close to nature always helped you clear your mind and bring you a sense of peace before. The sights and sounds of the wind blowing through the trees have a particular way of inspiring you.

Everywhere you look, you see people happy and smiling. Couples walk past holding hands, stopping to take selfies with nature as their background. You take out your phone and see the one you took with Y/N on your lock screen. The tears begin to fall on your face again as you remember the day you took the photo.

You were in her kitchen and had made a mess trying to surprise her with breakfast in bed. Instead, it was the smell of burning toast that had her running in, wrapped in nothing but a sheet, to see the chaos you created. While you cleaned up and she began cooking, you snuck up behind her and quickly snapped the photo. Her beautiful eyes were wide with surprise as you kissed her cheek. Her cheeks were flushed from laughter, while yours showed the deep dimples she loved to kiss while laying together late at night. That's your favorite photo of you two.

You put your phone back in your pocket and attempted to pull yourself back together to keep walking when you see a couple playing frisbee, laughing at each other's mishaps. Y/N had the best sense of humor with you. You never thought you'd meet a woman patient enough with you to tolerate your clumsiness. After breaking her favorite coffee cup one morning, she laughed and shook her head. "Why doesn't this surprise me, Joonie?" she said. You made it a point to find the exact puppy dog coffee cup on Amazon and a lifetime supply of gorilla glue. You allow yourself a chuckle as you continue on your walk.

One couple walks past you with a baby sound asleep in her pink stroller, and you imagine how beautiful your children could have looked with Y/N. Maybe she would have your dimples and her momma's smile. With that vision in your mind, pain pierces through your chest, making it difficult to breathe through your mask. You remembered how just that morning, you envisioned her in white, walking down the aisle on what could have been your wedding day, and the hole in your heart grows painfully deeper.

You see a small river up ahead, and you step off the path toward it. Your Timberlands crunch on the grass as you move across the lawn. There's a bench facing the water, and you rest your aching body there as you watch the water flow past you. You lean back, close your eyes and focus on the sounds of the water and see the fountain garden you and Y/N sat near on your first official date. That night was the most beautiful night of your life, and the pain of knowing you'll never have another date with Y/N again breaks you.

You lean forward, burying your head in your hands while you let the tears fall unfettered. But, unfortunately, everything you dreamed of with Y/N will never come to fruition. Sure, you have money and fame. Sure, your dream of becoming someone in the music world came true. But, what is all of that if you can't have the one you love to share it? Why did you become wealthy and successful if you'll never have a family to care for? What's the point of having the world at your fingertips if you can't hold her hand?

Does Y/N feel this way, too? Is she in as much pain as you? Will Bret come to her and pick up the pieces? What if he hurts her worse than before?

"You look like you need a drink more than I do, friend."

You turn to the man's slurred voice and wonder how you overlooked the smell wafting from him until now. His raggedy clothes hung loosely on him, dirt-caked in his hair. The smell of cheap whiskey and urine swept over your senses, and you tried to push the bile back down.

"No, thank you, sir. I was just leaving," you say as politely as you can muster before standing up to walk away. The homeless man shrugs his shoulders and takes a long pull on the bottle he held shakily in his knobby fingers. The man may have nothing to his name, but he does have a point. Maybe you do need a drink. You turn back to him, pull out your wallet, and set a twenty on the bench beside the man. He'll likely use the money for more whiskey, but knowing he'll be having a drink feels somehow like, in a way, you won't be having a drink alone.

You walk vigorously back to the car and see Nathan now stands in place of the other driver who had been waiting for you. Nathan is supposed to be Y/N's bodyguard. That means Y/N is vulnerable, unprotected. Without Nathan there to protect her, Bret could do anything to her, and this infuriates you.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Why aren't you with Y/N?"

"My services are no longer needed, according to Mr. Stephenson. She has an entire security team to watch over her now. Good thing I showed up here when I did, though. There was a group of guys near the river plotting to mug you. They paid that homeless guy a bottle of whiskey to distract you."

"Figures," you say under your breath, rolling your eyes before climbing into the back seat of the waiting car. You slam the door shut behind you and pull out your phone to look up the nearest bar. That man's offer for a drink may have been a ruse, but nothing sounds better to you than drowning your sorrows in American beer. You see your lock screen photo again and sag in your seat. Well, almost nothing.

3 hours later:

*Ring. Ring.*

Not again. If this phone doesn't stop ringing, you're going to break it on purpose this time. You flip the offending device over to look at the screen and sigh with relief. Finally, you're drunk enough you can't read it. Now, if only you could get drunk enough to make the pain go away.

"I'd like another beer, sir."

The bartender rolls his brown eyes and leans on the bar across from you. His dark face swims in front of you while you try to focus on him.

"Please, sir?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, brotha? You don't have to call me, sir. Besides, I think you've had enough."

The bartender stands and takes away another empty glass.

"Not enough. Just one more, and I'll leave," you manage to slur out through numb lips. If only the pain in your chest would numb.

"Speaking of leaving, how do you plan on doing that? Need me to call you an Uber?"

"I'm not allowed to Uuper. That's a funny word. Uuuuuuuperrrrrrr." You chase your puckered lips while you repeat the word and laugh loudly, stumbling out of your barstool.

"It's ok, man. I got him. I'll take single malt double on the rocks, please."

You look up at Suga while he pulls you up from the floor.

"Hyung! You're here to drink with me! This my Hyung, Yooooongi. Hyung, this is... um..."

"Darrel."

"That's it! This is my new friend, Darrel. Sir, get my brother a drink, too!"

Yoongi drops you onto your barstool and takes a seat next to you while Darrel grabs his best bottle of whiskey to pour him a drink. Afterward, instead of pulling another beer for you, he walks over to the freshly brewed pot of coffee and pours you a mug. Finally, he sets both drinks down and waits for your response.

"That's not beer."

"It's all you're getting, sir," the bartender states while crossing his impressive arms over his equally impressive chest.

"It's fine, Joonie. Just drink the coffee, and we'll get you back home."

"Don't wanna go home. I wanna drink."

"There's beer at home. If you want to drink, you'll come home."

"No! M'not going home!"

Yoongi calmly takes a sip of his whiskey while he mulls over his next words.

"I get it. You're in pain. You don't want to go back to the bed you've shared with Y/N. So, sleep on the couch."

"Don't say her name! I don't wanna go home."

"Too bad."

"What're you gonna do? Make me?"

Yoongi takes his time to savor his sip and shrugs his shoulders.

"If I have to."

"Hey now. We don't want any fight here. You two take that shit outside," Darrel orders with the kind of authority that only a seasoned bartender can give.

"M'not going anywhere, s-sir," you say with your head swaying in circles, your lids heavily drawn from drunkenness.

Darrel looks at Yoongi, confused by your sudden Korean. Yoongi laughs in response and stands from his seat, pulling out his card to pay for the drinks.

"Nah, man. Your brother here gave me his card to open a tab when he sat down," Darrel says to Yoongi, handing the older brother your card. Yoongi signs the receipt and leaves the poor, innocent bartender a $300 tip.

"Sorry for my brother," Yoongi says while he takes your card and puts it into his wallet.

"Hey. That's mine."

"I'll give it to you in the car. Come on, Namjoon."

"Don't wanna go."

"Fine. We'll find another bar. This one just ran out of beer. No point in staying."

"Ran out of beer?"

"Yup. Let's go, Joonie."

You hang your heavy head and pout while your older brother throws your arm over his shoulder to help you up. As you stumble your way to the door, you trip over a chair. Yoongi tries to hold you upright, but you're dead weight, and you both take a tumble. You've somehow wrapped your foot around the leg of the offending chair and hear a loud pop coming from your ankle over the bass of the music.

"Shit! Namjoon! Don't move."

Witnessing the commotion, Darrel comes around the bar to join Yoongi in helping you. You feel nothing while they both assess the damage to your foot.

"Wouldn't happen if you let me stay, hyung," you pout as you attempt to sit up again to see what their fuss is about.

Nathan joins in on the party that has now gathered at your feet and attempts to remove your boot.

"Mr. Kim, I'm not sure we can move you at the moment."

"Nah. M'fine. Want more beer. Help me up, Nathan. This barsssoutta beer!"

Not saying a word, Nathan picks you up bridal style to get you out the door and away from prying eyes as quickly as possible.

"The hell, Nathan? Put me down. I walk."

"Not on that ankle, sir. We're taking you to the hospital."

"My ankle's fine. Put me down!"

Yoongi opens the front passenger door for you so Nathan can carefully place you inside and belt you in. Now you're pissed. You just wanted to drink the pain away. Why can't they just let you do that? Why do people always have to interfere with what you want? Why can't they leave you to be as alone as you feel?

Nathan pulls up to the hospital, where a nurse with a wheelchair is waiting for you. With your chin sticking out in apparent anger, you take your belt off and open the door yourself. Then, turning in your seat to get yourself out, you accidentally kick your injured foot against the inside of the car. You grunt in pain and look down to see your foot for the first time. Now that you see the grapefruit-sized ball that has formed where your ankle used to be, the pain registers full-blown.

Nathan, appearing at your opened door, carefully turns you around all the way, pulls you out of the car fireman style, and places you into the awaiting wheelchair without further incident. The nurse begins asking Nathon questions while you try to wrap your rapidly sobering mind around the pain.

What if you've broken your ankle? What if you can't dance? If you can't dance, what will happen to BTS? Not only will you have lost the love of your life, but you'll have lost your career, too? What will the guys do? What will they say? You promised yourself that you wouldn't let them down, and now you've broken that promise. Just like your promise to keep Y/N safe. You've fucked it all up now, Kim Namjoon.