don’t make me cry / kjy&knj.
yangkwons:
Yang was fighting to cling to consciousness. He wanted to faint, but he didn’t want to leave Namjoon to deal with him on his own. But Namjoon grabbing his hand pulled him back to real life. Was this really happening? Was Namjoon really thinking that he was going to die? Yang’s heart clenched. He felt like an asshole for letting this continue - but God, his curiosity was getting the better of him.
He seemed to be taking Yang’s comment about professing his love seriously, which was only making his heart race. He had to be awake for this. But his heart ached. Namjoon was taking this so much more seriously than he needed to, and Yang felt terrible for it. And he opened his mouth to speak, but Namjoon beat him to it.
The moment Yang heard I’ve always loved you, he immediately fell silent. He could feel tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. He could’ve meant just as friends, of course - they were the best of friends, and always had been. Namjoon was, in all instances of the word, his soulmate. He would be completely, utterly lost without Namjoon.
Yang blinked hard, darkness growing at the corners of his vision. He was losing blood - not a lot, but more blood than he was used to losing. And he hadn’t eaten properly that day, and his body was definitely letting him know it. It was wanting to shut down for a little while, let him recover, but he didn’t want to. Not now. He couldn’t leave Namjoon like this.
“Namjoon,” Yang whispered, reaching a hand up to touch Namjoon’s cheek. His hand trembled slightly, and he could feel himself growing clammy. He hated the feeling of passing out, and he especially hated it now. His lower lip trembled. Namjoon, I love you too. I always have, and I always will. My soulmate. He wanted so badly to speak, but he couldn’t find the strength in his lips.
And so instead, he passed out, his hand dropping to his side. It couldn’t have possibly been worse timing.
Namjoon was torn between feeling grateful to have everything off his chest, and completely embarrassed to have told Jiyong everything. What if Jiyong didn’t feel the same? If he didn’t, it was likely that their friendship would be ruined forever. It was already too late, though; Jiyong knew now. He was desperate for some sort of reply from the man, but at the same time he never wanted to know what Jiyong had to say about it. Somehow he felt as if things would almost be easier if they both pretended this hadn’t happened.
But just as the thought crossed his mind, Jiyong whispered his name, and a second later his body went completely slack, hand dropping from Namjoon’s own to fall at his side. It took a few seconds for Namjoon to realise what was happening, before any rational thoughts he had left his mind all at once. “Jiyong!” he all but screamed, taking his hand again and gripping it tight. “Dammit, Jiyong, don’t do this! Fuck!” Pressing two fingers to Jiyong’s wrist, Namjoon felt for any sign of a heartbeat, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it was still there.
Not wanting to waste any time, Namjoon picked Jiyong up, carrying him carefully out the front door and into the car. He placed him in the passenger seat, trying to make sure he wasn’t putting too much pressure on his shoulder before putting on his seatbelt. “Stay there, sunshine, I’ll be right back,” he told him, as if Jiyong could actually hear him. Heading back inside the house, Namjoon approached the intruder, still unconscious on the floor. He quickly searched him, not finding much in the way of identification but also not really expecting to find any. He had a poorly made fake ID, but it would be enough to track him down later. Pocketing it, Namjoon grabbed both of his ankles, pulling him out the front door that way and depositing him onto the lawn. “I guess we’ll see in a few weeks how much you like havin’ a hitman sent after you,” he muttered.
Locking the front door, Namjoon raced back to the car, quickly getting in and taking off. The nearest hospital was just down the road, but it felt like forever to Namjoon. He kept looking over at Jiyong, watching how much his shoulder bled, and hoping he could still be saved. Rushing him into the emergency room was easy enough, with Namjoon yelling at the top of his voice getting just about everyone’s attention. Jiyong was quickly taken by a few doctors, and although Namjoon didn’t appreciate being separated from him, he was forced to stay back and fill out paperwork while they waited for the doctors to patch up Jiyong.
It felt like years passed until he finally got word back from someone, only to be told that– it wasn’t serious. At all. He had lost blood, but he had only passed out so quickly because of a lack of nourishment. The bullet had gone all the way through, so there was nothing to take out and the damage was minimal. Anything Jiyong had said that implied that he was dying was, as the doctor put it, Jiyong being a drama queen.
So, a few hours later, Namjoon sat in the room with Jiyong, impatiently tapping one foot and huffing every so often. “Kwon Jiyong,” Namjoon breathed. “You better be fuckin’ prepared when you wake up, boy, because you are going to die.”