the one that (almost) got away - three | knj TEASER
NOT EVERYTHING IN THIS TEASER EXCERPT WILL BE IN THE POSTED CHAPTER. CHANGES WILL LIKELY OCCUR!
The stillness of your hospital room feels weirdly calming. Though the blankets bunched around your legs are a bit scratchy and the pillow is way too firm for your liking. All the same, it gives you a minute to catch your breath as you wait for the boys to arrive with the kids.
Your kids.
You’d insisted they’d come to see you before visiting hours were over. Since the hospital wanted to keep you overnight for observation Jimin and Jungkook would be staying over at your house for the night to watch the kids while Namjoon stayed at the hospital with you.
You'd given up on trying to convince him you'd be alright by yourself for one night. After all the years that had passed, Namjoon was just as stubborn as he'd been as a teenager. Though, you had to admit it felt nice knowing he wouldn't leave your side through this.
It was strange how you’d grown accustomed to the disorienting situation you’d woken up in. Now when your eyes caught sight of the shiny ring on your finger you couldn’t help but feel your stomach go all fuzzy with glee. As strange as it was, you felt at home.
The door clicked open and Namjoon stepped in with a large, goofy smile and a cafeteria tray filled with nearly a dozen cups of red, orange, and green jello with small dollops of whipped cream swirled on top. Folding your legs underneath your body, you sit up excitedly and clap your hands together.
“God, I’m so glad I married you!”
He scoffs, laying the tray on the table a nurse had kindly clipped to your bed rails. Settling onto the mattress a bit away from you Namjoon swipes a cup of orange jello and takes a bite of it.
“Jin-hyung texted me,” He says through the mouthful. “They're in the parking deck now."
You hum and grab one of the cups for yourself.
"I'm excited to see them. The last thing I remember about them they were━oh this is so gross," You whine through a mouthful of lime jello.
Namjoon laughs, taking the cup from your hand and placing a red one in front of you instead. You swallow the mouthful with a pout, eager to rid your tongue of the taste. This time it's the tangy notes of artificial cherry that coat your tongue sweetly and you much prefer it to the overpowering sour lime you'd had before. Humming you mumble a quick 'thanks' under your breath before scooping another spoonful into your mouth.
"As I was saying, it'll be good to see everyone again. The last time I saw them they were like babies."
A revelation hits you as you let the plastic spoon fall back into your now half-empty jello cup.
"Oh my god, I'm going to have an aneurysm seeing Jungkook all grown up," You whine and rub your temples to ward off the headache that will likely arrive with the mind-boggling thought of the group's baby being a grown man. "I can't believe I missed everything..."
Namjoon hums, hands coming to rub your shoulder in comfort.
"Love, you were there for it, you just can't remember it."
The pout lingering on your lips deepens as you look up at your husband.
"That makes it so much worse."
Before he can respond, the door creaks open and the familiar but different voices that echoed through the practice room years ago spill into your hospital room.
"Jungkook-ah don't speak to your elders that way you brat!"
"Can you stop squabbling! We are in a hospital for pete's sake!"
"Sang-jun, buddy, cover your ears before your uncle corrupts you!"
don't let your skill in writing deter you. publishers look for the storyline, not always excellent writing. many of the greatest books came from mediocre writers—and also excellent and terrible ones.
keep writing even when it sucks. you don't know how to write this battle scene yet? skip ahead. write [battle scene here] and continue. in the end, you'll still have a book—and you can fill in the blanks later.
find your motivation. whether it's constantly updating That One Friend or posting your progress, motivation is key.
write everything down. everything. you had the perfect plot appear to you in a dream? scribble down everything you can remember as so as you can. I like to keep cue cards on my nightstand just in case.
play with words. titles, sentences, whatever. a lot of it will probably change either way, so this is the perfect opportunity to try out a new turn of phrase—or move along on one you're not quite sure clicks yet.
explain why, don't tell me. if something is the most beautiful thing a character's ever laid eyes on, describe it—don't just say "it's beautiful".
ask for critique. you will always be partial to your writing. getting others to read it will almost always provide feedback to help you write even better.
stick to the book—until they snap. write a character who is disciplined, courteous, and kind. make every interaction to reinforce the reader's view as such. but when they're left alone, when their closest friend betrays them, when the world falls to their feet...make them finally break.
magic. has. limits. there is no "infinite well" for everyone to draw from, nor "infinite spells" that have been discovered. magic has a price. magic has a limit. it takes a toll on the user—otherwise why can't they simply snap their fingers and make everything go their way?
read, read, read. reading is the source of inspiration.
first drafts suck. and that's putting it gently. ignoring all the typos, unfinished sentences, and blatant breaking of each and every grammar rules, there's still a lot of terrible. the point of drafts is to progress and make it better: it's the sketch beneath an oil painting. it's okay to say it's not great—but that won't mean the ideas and inspiration are not there. first drafts suck, and that's how you get better.
write every day. get into the habit—one sentence more, or one hundred pages, both will train you to improve.
more is the key to improvement. more writing, more reading, more feedback, and you can only get better. writing is a skill, not a talent, and it's something that grows with you.
follow the rules but also scrap them completely. as barbossa wisely says in PotC, "the code is more what you'd call 'guidelines' than actual rules". none of this is by the book, as ironic as that may be.
write for yourself. I cannot stress this enough. if what you do is not something you enjoy, it will only get harder. push yourself, but know your limits. know when you need to take a break, and when you need to try again. write for yourself, and you will put out your best work.
━ summary: everyone always told you that high-school sweethearts never last, that you’d break up once you got into the real world. you never listened. you believed that you and namjoon would take on the world side-by-side. that is until he moves to seoul to join an entertainment company, you’re choosing your major, and you always seem to miss each other’s calls. after a nasty fight that you believe to be the end of the road for your relationship, the universe gives you a glimpse into the future you’d be giving up on if you decide to walk away.
{high school sweethearts!au, pre-debut!namjoon, side pairing jikook}
━ pairings: kim namjoon x reader
━ genre: angst, some fluff, domesticity
━ word count: 2.1k
━ warnings: hospitals, talks of amnesia and brain tumors, swearing
part one
Your hands feel cold as they wrap around the mug in your lap. Knees tucked under your body, you curl yourself into the corner of the sofa and watch Namjoon’s figure pace around the kitchen.
He’s been on the phone since he fixed your tea, voice at a low level as he talks huskily into the receiving end. You can tell he’s frustrated and anxious from the way he runs his hands through his hair. Every time he hangs up you expect him to rejoin you in the living room, but he doesn’t. He just smiles softly at you, dials another number, then puts the phone up to his ear with a small frown.
The living room feels comfortable even though it’s unfamiliar. The pictures on the walls stare back at you like taunting memories you can’t quite piece together. On the coffee table lays what you think is your cell phone. You leave it untouched as the date on the home screen had already nearly sent you into a panic attack.
March 10th, 2038
It’s hard to wrap you head around it. Eighteen years. Eighteen years have passed and you can’t remember a single moment of it.
At first you just thought you were dreaming. But everything just felt too...real. You felt older. And very, very strange.
“Hey.”
Namjoon brings your attention back to him as he tucks his phone into his pocket. The smile on his face makes you feel grounded as he joins you on the couch cautiously.
“The guys- wait you remember my bandmates, right?”
You chuckle, nodding your head while Namjoon breathes a sigh of relief.
“Okay, well, Jimin, Jungkook, Yoongi, and Tae are taking the kids to Lotte World for the day, they’ll be back before we get home, hopefully. The rest of the guys’ll probably come over too at some point to see you. If that’s okay with you?”
The mention of the others has your head swirling once more. You wonder what they’ll be like after such a long time. It’s hard to imagine the younger ones as adults now, but you can make out some of their faces in a couple of the photos on the wall.
Your eyes fall on the large photo hanging over the fire place. It’s a family photo, taken around Christmas. You and Namjoon are sitting in front of the tree, each holding one of the younger children in your arms while the eldest sits between you, mid laughter with her eyes squinting in the same way Namjoon’s do. The picture makes your heart ache, and you can feel the tears stinging your eyes as you take in the feature of each of the children━your children.
The laughter you’d heard this morning is gone and the the house is silent. Namjoon had gotten the kids ready and out of the house after an hour of trying to calm you down. He told them you were sick and needed rest. Despite the fear and confusion swirling in your head, it made you smile hearing faint whisper-shouted i-love-yous from outside the bedroom door before they all left.
“What are their names?”
You don’t look away from the photo, but you can feel Namjoon staring at you. A moment passes, and eventually he presses up beside you with his phone in hand. It’s extended to you, so you carefully take it and staring up at you is a picture of the eldest girl.
She’s in a middle school uniform, standing among other students at what looks like her graduation ceremony. A bouquet of colorful flowers are clutched in her hands as she forces an awkward smile with flushed cheeks the color of a firetruck. You notice she has Namjoon’s eyes, and as you stare at her face you feel the first tear finally roll down your cheek.
“That’s Areum,” Namjoon speaks lowly as he situates himself into a comfortable position next to you. “She's our oldest, 14. She’s an amazing dancer, wants to be just like her uncles, especially Jimin-ah,” He chuckles to himself for a second and continues. “Loves dolphins and hermit crabs. She acts like a mini-you, honestly.”
You laugh, looking at Namjoon to see him smiling down at you. He looks at his phone and swipes to the right, and you see the smiling face of a boy looking back at you.
He’s holding up a seashell with bright eyes and an excited smile, like he was giggling when the picture was snapped. Behind him is the beach, and you can faintly make out a couple of what looks like Namjoon’s bandmates behind him playing around in the water. He’s holding onto a hand━your hand you realize as you notice the emerald ring sparkling in the sunshine.
“Sang-jun, he’s nine now. He’s the wild child, has way too much energy than I know how to handle sometimes. But you always know how to calm him down; you’re so good at this parenting thing,” A soft kiss is pressed to your cheek almost like a reflex, but if he catches himself he doesn’t make it obvious and simply continues talking. “So does Jungkook, but Jungkook acts more like a child than a grown man when he’s with Sang-jun.”
That makes both of you laugh, and your heart melts at the mention of being a good mother. But it leaves an ache in your chest all the same when you remember that...well, that you don’t.
Swiping to the last photo, you’re met with a sight that makes you burst into giggles that warm your chest.
It’s the youngest girl, bright brown eyes holding a universe of stars in them despite her being half-awake. Her hair is sticking up in every direction and a bit of drool dribbles down her chin as she pouts. Her cheek is smooshed into the fabric of a silky black shirt as she lays on someone’s chest, and if you look close enough on the hand resting on her back you can make out the SUGA rings adorning the lithe fingers.
“And our littlest one, Yuna. Just turned six last month and she’s already just as much trouble as her brother. She wants to be a bird━I don’t know why but she’s very insistent that she’ll find a way. And she tries to copy the rap verses in any of our songs she hears but it’s all just mumbles and gibberish that nobody can understand, but we all cheer her on anyway. Yoongi-hyung is set on teaching her everything he knows when she’s old enough to memorize lyrics.”
The last part makes you giggle even more as you picture Yoongi teaching the little girl━your little girl━how to produce beats and mix tracks as she stares at him without a thought behind her eyes. And as you stare at the rings in the picture you have so many more questions running through your find about the years you’ve missed.
But, before you can ask them Namjoon is ushering you to finish your tea and nagging you to grab a warm coat before he drags you towards the front door, muttering something about being late.
Retrograde amnesia.
That’s what the doctor had called it. When she actually said it, you could feel Namjoon’s grip on your hand begin to tighten, but neither one of you spoke.
“Have you been in any accidents lately, Mrs. Kim?” Dr. Moon sits stands at the foot of the hospital bed you’d been laying in for what felt like hours. She peers down at you with furrowed brows, and when you look back at her with no answer, she instead looks to Namjoon.
“Mr. Kim, when was the last time your wife was in an accident. A fall, hitting her head particularly hard, anything like that?”
You glanced at Namjoon. He was sat beside your bed in a wobbly plastic chair, holding onto your hand like it was his last lifeline. His eyes met yours and you could make out the tears brimming along his waterline and threatening to fall.
“Um,” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Nothing recent. I mean she bumps her head from time to time, but...” He trailed off, shaking his head.
Your throat felt dry as you watched him twist the emerald engagement ring on your finger nervously. The chill of the hospital was sending goosebumps up your arms, the thin hospital gown you’d been told to change into doing nothing to aide the chill. Luckily, Namjoon’s warm hands engulfing your own give you some type of relief.
Tongue heavy in your mouth, you squeeze his hand in the hopes of getting his attention. It works. His eyes meet yours and they hold an abundance of worry that you wish you could help soothe.
“Um, the last thing I remember...” You trail off as you bring your eyes to meet the doctor’s. She looks on with interest in whatever you have to say. “I mean it probably happened so many years ago by now, but we had a pretty bad fight right before his debut...”
The mention of the night flickers a light of recognition behind Namjoon’s eyes and he almost looks saddened by the news. He nods his head. “Yeah, yeah.”
He looks at the doctor and begins speaking a mile a minute. “She uh━she got hit by a car leaving my company building. Doctors then said it was mostly bruised ribs and a couple lacerations to her forehead. They never mentioned anything about brain injury or..."
"The mind is a tricky thing, Mr. Kim."
Her voice is softer than before, and she looks at both of you with a sad smile. Though, it seems to have calmed Namjoon at least a bit. He watches her intently, waiting for her to continue.
In the moment you cannot help but wonder if you're dreaming or not. Maybe this was a coma dream from the meds they were pumping into your system as you lay in a hospital bed, still your nineteen-year-old self. Maybe it was some cruel joke orchestrated by whatever force was out there as a way to tell you to suck it up and stick it out instead of storming off like a scorned child because things with Namjoon seemed a little too bumpy.
It all made your head hurt.
“Well,” Her voice breaks you out of your daze, and as you look up at her through watery eyes you can see the hesitation on her face. “CT results show no damage to her brain, nothing abnormal on any of your scans. Which means we don’t know how to diagnose you, and without a diagnosis, there’s no for sure way of knowing...”
She trails off, and while Namjoon looks confused at the unsaid words you understand completely. Usually, it's him having to explain things to you, so now it feels so strange to be the one who knows, who understands. You reckon he's still as smart as a whip still, no doubt, but something like this is difficult to take in for anyone, so you grip his hand a bit tighter, eyes welling up with even more tears.
“Wha...” His throat bobs as he swallows quickly. “What are you saying?”
Silence hangs in the air almost suffocatingly and it takes you back to the fight you had in the practice room. Foggy mirrors, the looping track, your throat burning as you simmer with anger. And unlike then, when you wanted to walk away and hide from the problem you’d been faced with, you push your tears back and look the man next to you in the eyes.
“Joon, she’s saying that since they don’t know what’s wrong with me, they can't do anything to help. And they can’t tell for sure when or... if I’ll even get my memory back.”
It’s scary to say out loud. You can hear the hitch in his breath as the information soaks in. Then, like the calm in a storm, his shoulders relax and he hangs his head in a somewhat defeated manner.
Forgetting about the doctor in the room you cup his cheeks with your hands and force him to look you in the eyes. Namjoon’s eyes shine with tears and they remind you of the smiling faces you’d seen in the photo around the house this morning. It fills you with a sense of hope━albeit somewhat unrealistic considering your circumstances.
“Don’t worry, baby,” You sniffle, using your thumbs to brush soothingly along his cheekbones. “We’ll get through this. I have you, and our beautiful children. Just because I can’t remember doesn’t I don’t adore them already.”
“We have the boys and they’ll give us all the help they can. We will be okay, Joon. Trust me, kay?”
Tears flow steadily down your cheeks as Namjoon gazes back at you. His lips curve into a smile, and for the first time today, you don’t feel out of place.
━ summary: everyone always told you that high-school sweethearts never last, that you’d break up once you got into the real world. you never listened. you believed that you and namjoon would take on the world side-by-side. that is until he moves to seoul to join an entertainment company, you’re choosing your major, and you always seem to miss each other’s calls. after a nasty fight that you believe to be the end of the road for your relationship, the universe gives you a glimpse into the future you’d be giving up on if decide to you walk away.
{high school sweethearts!au, pre-debut!namjoon, side pairing jikook}
━ pairings: kim namjoon x reader
━ genre: angst, fluff
━ word count: 2.8k
━ warnings: swearing, a breakup, reader kinda gets hit by a car, amnesia
The tears in your eyes are threatening to fall but you don’t let them. Your voice is hoarse and at this point you know you’re being a tad unreasonable, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.
“I can’t believe you, holy fuck!” It seems as if Namjoon too is at his wits end, his chest heaving and his jaw clenched tightly. He’s yelling loud enough that everyone outside the practice room who had left to give you two some time to yourselves can most definitely hear you, but neither of you care in the moment. “I’m not ignoring you on purpose (Y/N), you and I both know that! I debut in a month of course I’m not gonna answer the phone every single time you call me!”
“I know that,” You holler back, hands waving somewhat awkwardly as you try to make your point. “I’m not saying it’s entirely your fault, I’m simply saying-”
“What, what, that you want me to drop everything and make time for you? Is that what you want me to do, huh?!”
A frustrated growl rumbles in your throat and you have to resist from tugging on your own hair. You and Namjoon were just as stubborn as each other, so fighting like this would lead you nowhere.
“No, I’m not saying you have to drop your responsibilities, what I am saying is that maybe, every once in a while you can answer my texts so I know that you’re okay!”
Namjoon swallows harshly, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes. The air feels hot between you two, and when you look into the mirror behind Namjoon you can see the redness of your eyes as you fight back the tears so the two of you can actually finish an argument for once.
“I’m trying, (Y/N), but it’s kinda hard being the leader of a group and having to worry-”
“All I’m asking for is a simple ‘hey. I’m alive, love you’ every once in a while, Namjoon!”
Face hot, you run a hand through your hair and try to look anywhere but your boyfriend. The track which Namjoon and the other boys had been practicing to is lopping through the bluetooth speaker on the floor, and you glare at it as if it will combust under your command.
Then you laugh.
It sounds empty and distant, and not only does it surprise Namjoon, it surprises you too. He looks at you with the anger in him simmering, and you can only shake your head with a tight-lipped smile.
“What are we doing?”
You’re mostly asking yourself but you’re looking dead at Namjoon. He stares back at you with softening eyes as the tears you’d fought to keep at bay start freely flowing. Wiping at them with the back of your hand, you pitifully laugh. “I mean, you’re gonna be an idol in a couple months and I’m interrupting practice to make a scene about you not answering my texts.”
The tension in the room has shattered and you bite your lip as your head swirls with doubt. You laugh again, this time sounding more broken than anything as you wipe away the fresh, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.
“Almost makes me wish your boss had enforced that dating ban you told me about.”
“Don’t say that...”
He’s staring at you with his arms loose by his side and all the fight in his body is long gone at your words.
“Why not,” You wave your hand dismissively like it’s no big deal. “It would’ve saved us the trouble of holding onto all this hope like, like....”
The bridge of the song echoes throughout the practice room for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, and as you stare at your shoes you can’t help but to wonder what the point in fighting is anymore. You sniffle, using your sleeve to dry your eyes. You straighten up your back to look at Namjoon.
He looks lost, like a kicked puppy, and you so badly want to hug him and comfort him and tell him that you two will make it through this, but you can’t find it in you to actually believe any of it yourself.
“What...” The words get caught in his throat and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before looking back at you. “What are you saying, (Y/N)?”
You hesitate.
Of course you want things to work out between the two of you, but now all you can think about is your futures.
You’ve just started your first year at university. You’re not even sure you’ll stick with your major yet because you have no clue what you want to do with your life. You have no idea where you’ll end up and its confusing and stressful and it makes you want to hide from the world.
Namjoon has goals. He’ll debut in a month and he’s got his team to think about. You’ve met the boys and you know how talented they all are and how great they’re gonna be in the future. Even if they don’t believe it themselves, you can tell they are all gonna be big someday. Can you really hold him back from that?
“I think,” You can feel the shakiness in your voice and hear it waver as you refuse to look at the man in front of you. “I think that someday you are going to have crowds screaming your name and you’ll be living your dreams. But I can’t be the clingy, needy girlfriend waiting by the phone forever.”
“No, no, you-”
“I just can’t do it anymore, Namjoon,” Your chin trembles as you try to hold back the floodgate of tears pushing on your eyes.
Yanking the sleeve of your - actually Namjoon’s - hooded jacket, you grip the cotton fabric between your fingers and swallow the lump in your throat. Finding the right words to say in the moment is difficult, but you do your best to spell out your thoughts to the man in front of you.
“I think...I think we’ve ran our course, Joon,” The words leave a bad taste in your mouth. “We’re going in two totally different directions with our lives. I’m sorry, and you know I love you, but I don’t think we-”
The door to the practice room swings open and the whoops and hollering of the other boys completely cuts through the atmosphere like a spear. Ducking your head, you avoid their eyes and rub your sweaty palms on the material of your jeans.
In the mirror you see Taehyung’s excited boxy grin as he talks animatedly to Yoongi, who is sporting his normal lazy attitude but the grin on his face is there. Jimin is hanging off Jungkook’s shoulder, giggling as the younger boy flushes red. Hoseok talks loudly to Seokjin who remains quite but still smiles and looks at the the younger so he’s knows he’s paying attention to whatever he’s saying.
For a moment you can’t help but smile at the warmth they all bring into the room, but the weight of the argument still swarms in your chest. It feels clammy and cold, and you wish so badly that it would go away so you can bask in the happiness the boys have invited you into in the short time you’ve known them.
It’s Hoseok that notices the state you and Namjoon are in before the others.
“Woah, you guys okay?”
Neither one of you speak up, Namjoon’s staring blankly at the wall behind you and you nearly double over, sniffling and trying to hold off the need to break down and cry.
The silence is so unbelievably loud and as the boys start to gather their thoughts, you straighten up. Turning to Namjoon, you let out a heaving breath and tuck your hands into the pockets of your jacket.
Jungkook steps forward, his big doe eyes darting between you and his hyung as he tries to understand the situation.
“Noona are you-”
“I’m okay, Guk-ah,” You say softly. At the sound of your voice Namjoon seems to come back to his senses. His eyes are glassy and he stares at you like he’s begging you not to continue where you left. “I’m gonna leave so you guys can go back to practicing. I’m really sorry I interrupted, it won’t happen again.”
You snatch your bag off the floor and head for the door. Sweaty palms tuck into the pockets of your jacket once more and you tug the hood over your head.
Yoongi steps in front of you, and you know he see your puffy eyes and wet cheeks. His eyes soften, and he looks from you to Namjoon, then back at you. After only a moment you can see the pieces click in his head. But before he can say a word to you, you’re out the door and running towards the building’s front door.
The air outside is chilly and makes the dried tears on your cheeks feel cold. It’s nearly midnight, and the streets are significantly emptier since they were when you arrived at BigHit earlier in the afternoon.
After ensuring that you have all your belongings━because it would be way too embarrassing to go back to the practice room if you left something━you start out across the street in search of a hotel to book a room for the night.
As you watch your shoes while walking on the wet concrete, you can’t help but already feel like something’s missing. You and Namjoon had been together since high school, you’d been friends since the two of you were in diapers, and you couldn’t recall a time in your life where you thought you’d never see him again. Even after he first left for Seoul the two of you were texting so often that you felt like he was only a couple minutes away from you at his parent’s house.
Now, as you wandered Seoul on your own, you feel your gut twisting and turning as you think about what happens next.
Once you get a hotel you’ll probably have to call your parents to tell them you’ll need them to pick you up from the train station tomorrow now that your trip is cut short. Your mom will probably ask a million questions, questions you can’t even begin to think of answering right now.
The once sprinkling rain turns heavy, pulling you from your own thoughts. Fingers grasp for the edge of your hood and you pull it farther over your face to block the rain from hitting your face. You’d like to stay as dry as possible so that whatever hotel you end up staying at doesn’t think you’re a street-rat.
And then lighting strikes.
You’re not too sure if it’s lighting, because in a split second feel yourself slam into the concrete and the sounds of the rain fade until you can barely hear them anymore.
The air leaves your lungs as you stare into warm, yellow headlights as they beam down on you inches from your face. Your head feels like it’s about to explode, but it’s practically the only thing you can actually feel. The rest of your body feels heavy and tired, and a dull ache is thrumming underneath your skin.
A voice echoes, and you don’t even feel like you’re in your own body because you smile at the sound hazily. Hands push on your ribs and you hiss out because it feels like hot needles stabbing into your skin. The feeling is gone as soon as it had arrived and the place you’d felt it aches but you don’t seem to be too concerned about it anymore.
Now you are on your back and your eyes are facing the sky. You take in the inky midnight blue dotted with a million stars, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve seen for sure.
Something grips your hands and a warmth cradles your jaw and tugs your face to the side until a pair of eyes block the stars from view. You don’t mind though, because oh━this sight is just as pretty. Swirls of stern yet youthful chocolate brown accompanied by strong brows drawn together tightly creating wrinkles in the skin above.
Your eyes flutter shut as you shudder out a breath. A metallic taste coats your tongue and your throat, and it lulls you into a feeling of dull, numbness. Fingers grip your cheek and your shook is moved from side to side, shouts and screams ring in your ears, but you’re too tired to care.
It felt like you’d only been asleep for a single minute before you feel the warmth of the sun hit your face.
In your bleary, half-asleep state, you hum in content and inch closer to the solid warmth beside you. Hands press softly into your hips, caressing the skin that peeks out underneath the fabric of your sleep-shirt. Puffs of breath tickle your nose and you shiver, breathing in the comforting smell of cotton sheets and the scent of vanilla and lavender that wraps itself around your body.
You feel comfortable. The kind of comfortable that hugs you tight and makes you late for morning lectures because you know the moment you move to get ready it’ll be gone. When you lay in bed for hours on the weekend without moving a muscle because you want to milk every second of peace it gives you. But, there’s something unfamiliar about it. Like the feeling of the pillow under your head or just the sheets brushing your skin. It doesn’t feel like the lumpy mattress in your dorm room that you swear is filled with boulders, but you just can’t bring yourself to care.
It’s only when you become aware of the warmth of another’s skin and a heartbeat under your fingertips that you realize you aren’t alone.
Someone is laying beside you. It takes you a moment to recognize him.
Namjoon. But he looks so much different. He almost looks like his father. His skin is still tanned, almost the color of caramel, and his strong arms (much larger than you remember) are wrapped around you. His dark hair is messy from sleep and falling into his eyes, and his lips are plump and soft, pushed out into a small pout. He looks...different, but your sleepy eyes struggle to focus on the details.
You’re just about to close your eyes and drift off back to sleep when your eyes catch the shine of something gold on your hand. Frowning, you blink to get rid of the fogginess in your eyes and lift your hand close to your face. When your hand comes into focus you choke on your breath.
On your left hand ring finger sit two rings. The first is a small, simple golden ring with small diamonds along the band, and the other is a sizable emerald on a gold band sitting among swirls of gold and smaller, well-placed diamonds.
You sit up in the bed, Namjoon’s arms off of you in the rough movement.
“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, gripping your left hand with your right and staring down at the ring on your finger hoping it’s just a trick of the light and your tired mind.
Now fully alert, your eyes fly to the night stand. The digital alarm clock reads ‘10:13 SUN′ in red. You feel your stomach doing knots as you look at the picture beside the alarm clock.
Suddenly the room feels cold. You can feel goosebumps trail up your arms and the hair on the back of your neck is standing up. Your hands shake as you reach forward and snatch the picture off the bedside table.
It’s you, sitting on a blanket spread out on the grass and beaming a smile at the camera. Namjoon is also there, mid-laugh with an arm cocooning around you as you sit between his legs. In his other arm is a little boy, no older than ten, wrapping an arm around the man’s neck. His thin jacket is halfway hanging off his arms and he uses his other arm to make a peace sign. A little girl sits in your lap with her hair in pigtails and a piece of watermelon in her hands. Her smile is just as big as yours, though she’s missing a tooth and watermelon juice stains her lips and chin. Crouching down behind everyone is another girl, this one looking to about thirteen or fourteen. She has one earbud in her ear and a phone in her hand, but she seems to be enjoying herself from the wide smile and her cheery bright brown eyes.
Your hearts feels as if it has plummeted into your stomach. Your mind is racing a million miles a minute, asking questions you struggle to come up with an answer to. Nothing makes a lick of sense right now and you feel a headache beginning to set right behind your forehead.
The bed dips and suddenly you feel arms wrapping themselves around your waist. You flinch, dropping the picture and it hits the floor, thankfully saved from shattering into pieces by the rug.
“━ing, you okay?”
The words don’t register in you mind as it’s too occupied trying to make sense of everything. Nothing is clicking in your head. It’s like your entire life was just put on fast-forward. Like there’s a block in your mind that’s supposed to remember where you are but it’s just...not there.
“(Y/N), love? What’s wrong?”
Blinking, you’re met with the chocolate eyes that seem to be the last thing you remember. Tears well up in your eyes and it feels like all the air has been sucked form your lungs, making it hard for you to catch your breath.
“I-I...I can’t...” You feel your chin tremble and your hands shake. Namjoon’s larger hands cup your own, the warmth brining your attention back to him. “I can’t remember anything.”
