Break Her Bed, Not Her Heart | KNJ
Summary: Breaking up with Kim Namjoon should've been the end. The problem was… He never accepted the breakup. "In my dictionary, we're not broken up." Status: One-shot | Between Collisions Series Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Reader Word Count: 8.8k~ Genre: Idol!AU, Angst, Fluff Rated: PG Tags: Ex-Boyfriend?Namjoon, Secret, Drama, Slice of Life Posting Date: July 2, 2026 SCC: Ko-fi ☕️ ・ Taglist 📝
That night, your apartment felt far too quiet.
Not because there was no sound beyond the window or because the rain that had been falling since the afternoon continued to slowly soak the balcony, but because for the first time in years, your phone had truly stopped being the thing you constantly waited for. It had been one month since your relationship ended. Thirty strange days, because breaking up with Kim Namjoon didn't feel anything like the movies filled with tears, shouting, or doors being slammed shut. None of that happened. There was only a brief conversation in the middle of the night when you finally admitted that you were tired.
Tired of waiting.
Tired of understanding.
Tired of always being the one who said, "I know you're busy."
At that moment, Namjoon stayed silent for a long while before answering in such a calm voice that it only made your chest ache even more.
"If that's what you need right now... I'll respect it."
There was no plea for you to stay. No "don't leave." There wasn't even an attempt to convince you that everything would get better.
He simply accepted it.
Ironically, that acceptance hurt far more than if he had begged you to stay.
From that night on, the two of you truly stopped contacting each other.
You went back to work as usual. Waking up early, going to the office, coming home late, occasionally having dinner with coworkers, watching a series before bed, then repeating the same routine the next day. Little by little, your life returned to normal—or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself every time thoughts of Namjoon appeared uninvited whenever you looked at a bookshelf, a warm cup of coffee, or heard the songs the two of you used to listen to in the car.
You learned how to live without waiting for his notifications.
Learned not to open the news app just to check which country he was in.
Learned to stop calculating time zones every night.
And the hardest part...
Learning to accept that maybe your relationship really was over.
So when your phone vibrated at around eight that evening with the name that hadn't appeared on your screen for the past month, your entire body froze.
Namjoon.
Your heart was pounding far too fast before you even opened his message.
Namjoon: Are you free tomorrow night?
You stared at the message for a long moment.
Then another one appeared.
Namjoon: Eomma wants us to have dinner. Her birthday is next week. She wants everyone together before I start my schedule again.
Your brows immediately furrowed.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for almost a full minute before you slowly typed.
You: Joon... We already broke up.
You deleted it.
Then typed again.
You: Have you not told your mom yet?
Message sent.
Not even five seconds later.
The read receipt appeared.
Then the chat bubble moved again.
Namjoon: No.
Just one word.
You let out a slow breath.
Of course.
Of course he hadn't told her.
You had already started typing another reply when another notification appeared.
Namjoon: Because we never broke up.
You stopped breathing for a few seconds.
Your eyes reread the sentence over and over again, hoping you had somehow misunderstood it.
But no. The words remained exactly the same.
You: What?
Your reply was sent almost immediately. Namjoon answered even faster.
Namjoon: I never considered us broken up. I was just giving you time.
Your brows knitted together even tighter.
You: Namjoon, I literally told you we were over..
Namjoon: I remember. I remember you crying when you said it. I remember you saying you were tired. But you never said you stopped loving me.
Your chest suddenly felt tight.
Your fingers began typing faster.
You: Don't twist my words, Namjoon. I'm tired of this relationship.
Another reply came.
Namjoon: No. You're tired of my schedule. That's different.
You bit your lower lip.
Angry. Irritated. Frustrated.
You: It's the same thing.
A few seconds passed without a reply.
Then...
Namjoon: It's not. I already knew this phase would come. I knew that one day you'd feel lonely. I knew you'd get angry because I kept leaving. I knew you'd say you wanted to give up. That's why I didn't stop you back then.
You read every sentence slowly.
For some reason, your irritation only grew stronger.
You: So you did it on purpose? You stayed silent on purpose? You let me leave on purpose?
Namjoon's reply appeared almost instantly.
Namjoon: I let you get all of your exhaustion out. Because if I'd stopped you... You would've only felt even more suffocated. I know you. Once your emotions settle... You would've come back.
You immediately started typing a long reply.
You: Don't act like you know everythi—
Before you could even finish the message.
A new notification came in.
Namjoon: Open the door.
Your brows furrowed.
Namjoon: I'm outside.
Your heart felt as though it had dropped to the floor. Slowly, you turned toward the apartment door.
Silence. There wasn't a single sound. Maybe he was joking. Maybe he just wanted to make you panic. But the moment that thought crossed your mind...
Knock.
Knock.
Two soft knocks came from the other side of the door.
Not loud. Not rushed.
A knock that was so familiar. The same knock he always used so he wouldn't startle you. Your entire body turned cold.
Before you even realized it, your feet were already carrying you toward the door.
Through the peephole, you saw a tall man wearing a black hoodie, a cap, and a mask that concealed most of his face. His shoulders looked broader than you remembered, perhaps because for the past month, you'd only seen him through the occasional concert photos that appeared on social media. A large suitcase stood beside his feet, while his other hand rested inside his jacket pocket as though he had just stepped out of the car without even going home first.
He really had come back from tour.
And somehow… He came straight here.
You opened the door only a few inches.
"Just for a minute."
Your voice came out much quieter than you intended.
Namjoon looked at you through the narrow gap in the door. His brown eyes looked far more exhausted than they had a month ago. There were faint dark circles beneath them that even the apartment hallway lighting couldn't hide. Yet his gaze remained the same. Too calm. Too certain.
"Can I come in?"
"No."
"Okay."
His answer came so easily that it caught you slightly off guard.
He didn't insist. He didn't push the door. He didn't raise his voice. He simply stood there.
"You've lost weight."
"I'm fine."
"I know."
"But you've still lost weight."
You let out a long sigh.
"What are you doing here?"
"I..."
"We already broke up."
"I already answered that."
His tone remained flat.
Calm.
As though he were simply stating a fact that, in his mind, wasn't open for debate.
"We didn't break up."
Your patience was beginning to wear thin.
"Namjoon!"
For the first time that night, your voice rose.
"Are you even listening? I told you we're over!"
The hallway fell silent again. Namjoon looked at you for a few moments. Then he gave a small nod.
"I heard you."
"And?"
"I don't agree."
You blinked. "...What?"
"I don't agree."
He said it again. Just that simply. As though breaking up was a decision that required both parties' consent, and he had chosen not to sign anything.
"A relationship isn't a one-sided contract."
"You can't—"
"I can."
Namjoon cut you off for the first time. His voice was still low. Still gentle. Yet there was something beneath that tone that slowly made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
"You have every right to be angry."
"You have every right to be disappointed."
"You have every right to hate my schedule."
"You have every right to cry."
"You have every right to ignore me for a month."
"But don't ever say I stopped loving you."
Your chest rose and fell faster.
"I never said that."
"Exactly."
Namjoon's eyes never left yours for even a second.
"That's why I'm here."
Silence settled between the two of you once more.
He let out a quiet breath before continuing, his voice sounding rougher this time.
"I know I was wrong."
"I was too busy."
"I left you to sleep alone too many times."
"I made you wait for calls that never came too many times."
"I know."
"But don't punish me by leaving."
"I can fix this."
You lowered your head. Tears began filling your eyes again without permission.
"I'm tired..."
Your voice was barely audible.
"I know."
"I'm tired of waiting."
"I know."
"I'm tired of always being the one who understands."
"I know."
Every answer he gave chipped away at your defenses even further. But it was his next sentence that made you freeze completely.
"Then now it's my turn to be the one who understands you."
Namjoon took one step closer. He still didn't touch you. He still kept his distance. But he was close enough for you to catch the scent of the cologne that had always lingered on his hugs.
"Come have dinner with Eomma tomorrow."
"Joon..."
"That wasn't a request."
His gaze changed. It was still gentle. But now there was something much deeper, darker, and harder to read. Not anger, but a conviction so absolute that it was almost frightening. As though he'd intentionally given you space for the past month, but never because he intended to lose you. In his mind, losing you had never even been a possibility.
"I've been away from you for far too long."
A faint smile appeared on his lips. A smile that, somehow, didn't comfort anyone.
"One month is enough."
"I'm not going to make the same mistake again."
"You can stay angry for as long as you want."
"You can complain."
"You can cry."
"You can hit me if that'll make you feel better."
"But leave?"
He slowly shook his head.
"No."
His eyes remained fixed on yours.
"Don't make a habit of telling me we're breaking up."
Because for the first time since the two of you had been together, you saw a side of Kim Namjoon that he had always managed to hide behind his calm way of speaking. Not a man who had lost control, but someone who had already made up his mind and wasn't going to change that decision no matter what happened. He would give you room to be angry, time to cry, even the freedom to ignore him for as long as you needed. But the one thing he would never allow was for you to truly walk out of his life.
"I already told you..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"...we never broke up."
"And we never will."
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Namjoon didn't stay long that night.
After the conversation that left your chest feeling even tighter, his phone vibrated several more times. He only glanced at the screen briefly before letting out a quiet sigh, as though his own body was reminding him that the time he had was never truly his to begin with. There was a flight in a few hours, meetings to attend, filming schedules to keep, and who knew how many dozens of people waiting for him somewhere else. But before all of that, he still chose to stand in front of your apartment door.
"I have to go."
You didn't answer.
Your gaze remained fixed on the floor, avoiding his eyes that hadn't truly left you since earlier. There were so many things you wanted to say, but all of them felt pointless because every sentence you spoke was met with the same unwavering certainty. In his mind, your relationship was still intact. While in yours, it had already ended a month ago.
Namjoon gave a small nod, as though he understood your silence.
"Okay."
He didn't force the conversation to continue.
He didn't try to hug you. He didn't reach for your hand.
He simply took one step closer until only a few inches remained between the two of you. Then, without asking for permission or giving any warning, he lowered his head slightly and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. The kiss was brief, so light it almost felt like nothing more than a soft breath, yet it was enough to make your entire body stiffen for several seconds.
"Get enough sleep."
His voice was low.
"Don't work overtime."
"You look exhausted."
You remained silent. You didn't reply. You didn't move.
Namjoon only smiled faintly at your stubbornness. It wasn't the smile of victory or mockery, but the smile of someone who had known you for far too long. He knew that when you chose silence, it didn't mean you weren't listening. Quite the opposite. You were trying with everything you had not to give in.
"See you tomorrow."
He turned around, pulling his black suitcase as he walked down the apartment hallway.
You didn't close the door until he had completely disappeared around the elevator corner.
That night, you couldn't sleep well.
The lingering warmth of the kiss on your forehead occupied your thoughts far longer than you wanted to admit. You kept convincing yourself that it didn't mean anything, that Namjoon had always been like that. Too calm. Too patient. Too certain. And it was that certainty that irritated you the most, as though your decision meant absolutely nothing to him.
The next morning, just as you were sitting in the office pantry, sipping coffee that had already begun to turn cold, your phone vibrated again.
Namjoon: Seven o'clock. I'll pick you up.
Just two sentences.
No question.
No "Can I?"
No "If you're free."
As though everything had already been decided.
You let out a long sigh before sending a short reply.
You: I can't.
The three dots appeared almost instantly.
Namjoon: Why?
Your fingers paused for a moment.
You: I have work.
Even though you knew perfectly well your schedule was completely empty that night.
A few seconds passed. There was no reply. You assumed the conversation was over.
Until around five in the afternoon, your apartment doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
You didn't even need to look through the peephole to know who it was.
With sluggish steps, you opened the door. Sure enough, Namjoon was standing there, wearing a simple white T-shirt beneath a light black blazer. His hair was neatly styled, his face still carried traces of exhaustion from too little sleep, yet he still looked far too put together for someone who had just finished a packed schedule. In one hand was a small paper bag from his mother's favorite bakery.
The moment he saw you, he simply smiled.
"I told you I couldn't."
"You lied."
His answer was completely flat.
You let out another long sigh.
"Namjoon..."
"If you really had work, your laptop would've already been on."
Your eyes immediately shifted toward the living room table. Your laptop was still closed.
"And you haven't showered yet."
You rubbed your temple.
"What are you doing here?"
"Picking you up."
"I already said I'm not going."
"I heard you."
"And?"
"Come inside."
He said it while taking off his shoes himself, as though this apartment was still exactly the same as it had been a few months ago.
"Namjoon."
"Come on."
He looked back at you.
"Go take a shower."
You stared at him in disbelief.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"I said I'm not coming."
"I know."
"Then why are you forcing me?"
Namjoon walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water without looking even slightly awkward. His movements were so natural, as though an entire month of never setting foot in your apartment hadn't erased his familiarity with every corner of this place. He took a slow sip before looking at you again.
"Because Eomma is waiting."
That sentence immediately made you fall silent. Namjoon knew. He truly knew.
Out of everyone in the world, the one person you could never bring yourself to disappoint was his mother.
She had always welcomed you like her own daughter. She would send you food whenever you were sick, call just to ask whether work had been treating you well, and had even secretly sent you vitamins once after Namjoon told her you'd been working overtime far too often.
You clenched your jaw.
"That's unfair."
"I know."
"You did that on purpose."
"Yeah."
Namjoon nodded without the slightest hint of guilt.
"You knew I could never say no to your mom."
You let out a quiet scoff.
"Manipulative."
"Yeah."
"Annoying."
"Yeah."
"But you're still going to take a shower."
His answer was so calm that it made you want to throw a pillow straight at his face.
Twenty minutes later, you finally stepped out of your bedroom wearing a simple outfit. Namjoon, who had been sitting on the sofa reading a book the whole time, immediately looked up. His gaze lingered on you for a few seconds before the corner of his lips slowly lifted.
"Beautiful."
You immediately looked away.
"Don't start."
"Okay."
He stood up and picked up your bag that had been lying on the table.
"Let's go."
The drive to the restaurant was filled with silence.
Namjoon didn't force you to talk. Every now and then, he would simply glance at you from behind the steering wheel, making sure your seatbelt was fastened properly or that the air conditioner wasn't too cold. The little gestures that once felt so ordinary now only made it harder for you to decide whether you should keep holding on to your anger.
By the time you arrived at the restaurant, the private dining room door was already open.
"Oh, you're finally here."
That warm voice greeted the two of you immediately.
Namjoon's mother was the first to stand, wearing the same warm smile as the last time you had seen her. Beside her sat Namjoon's father, smiling kindly as he closed the menu, while Namjoon's younger sister immediately waved the moment she saw you.
"You've lost weight."
His mother immediately took both of your hands.
"You've been working too much, haven't you?"
You could only offer an awkward smile.
"Yes, Eommoni."
"Then make sure you eat a lot tonight."
She didn't seem to know anything at all.
Or maybe...
She had simply never been told.
Namjoon pulled out the chair beside him before you even had the chance to choose your own seat.
"Sit here."
You hesitated for a moment. But Eomma's gentle gaze eventually made you give in.
Throughout dinner, Namjoon acted exactly as he always had. When the waiter placed down a bowl of soup that was still too hot, he instinctively slid it farther away from you.
"Careful."
A few moments later, he gently tucked the loose strands of hair that kept falling across your face behind your ear.
"Here."
The movement was so subtle that only the two of you noticed.
When you accidentally choked because you drank too quickly, his hand gently rubbed your back.
"Slow down."
Everything felt so natural. So familiar. As though the word "breakup" had never been spoken a month ago. Every now and then, his mother smiled as she watched the two of you.
"I'm so happy you both could make it."
You lowered your gaze.
Your chest felt heavier and heavier. Not because of Namjoon, but because the woman sitting in front of you looked genuinely happy. And you simply couldn't bring yourself to be the one who ruined that smile tonight.
After dinner ended and Namjoon's family headed home first, the two of you drove back toward your apartment.
Once again, the car was filled with silence.
The lights of Seoul reflected one after another across the window as a light drizzle began to dampen the streets. Namjoon drove with one hand while the other occasionally tapped softly against the steering wheel in rhythm with the song quietly playing on the radio. Neither of you spoke until the car came to a stop in front of your apartment building.
You unfastened your seatbelt first.
Before getting out, you finally gathered the courage.
"Joon."
"Hm?"
"This..."
You kept your eyes fixed straight ahead.
"...can't happen again."
Namjoon didn't answer immediately.
"We already broke up."
Your voice came out much softer than before.
"I only came tonight because of your mom."
"Not because we're back together."
Silence.
A few seconds passed before Namjoon turned off the engine completely.
He turned his body toward you. His gaze was exactly the same as it had been the night before. Calm, warm, and somehow so unwavering that it was impossible to shake.
"That's fine."
You frowned.
"That's fine?"
"However long you need."
He spoke quietly.
"Another month."
"Two months."
"A year."
"I'll wait."
You closed your eyes for a moment.
"Namjoon..."
"I'll wait until you're no longer exhausted."
"I'll wait until your anger fades."
"I'll wait until your disappointment slowly disappears."
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"Not because I'm stubborn."
"Then why?"
"Because I never planned a life without you."
Those words made it impossible for you to turn and look at him.
"You can keep saying we're broken up."
He continued, his voice so quiet.
"You can say it a hundred times."
"You can say it every single day."
"But my answer will always be the same."
He looked at you without the slightest hesitation.
"In my dictionary..."
"...we're not broken up."
"And we never will be."
For some reason, for the first time since all of this began, it no longer felt like you were arguing with someone. It felt more like standing before a wall that couldn't be broken—not because it was hard, but because it had been built from a conviction far too deep to be shaken. Namjoon wasn't trying to force you to love him again. In his mind, that love had never truly left. All he saw was someone who had become exhausted and chosen to step away just to catch her breath. And as long as your breath found its way back to him someday, he believed there wasn't a single reason to say goodbye.
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The days after dinner with Namjoon's family fell into almost the same pattern.
Every morning, there was always a message from him. Sometimes it was just a good morning text, sometimes a photo of the sky from whichever city he happened to be in, sometimes simply a reminder not to forget breakfast. Never long. Never demanding. And you, with a stubbornness that was beginning to exhaust even yourself, always replied with the bare minimum. One word. Two words. Sometimes just a sticker. Sometimes nothing more than a reaction to his message. Yet strangely enough, Namjoon never complained even once.
As though no matter how brief your reply was, he still considered it a small victory.
Because at least...
You were still replying.
That afternoon, after a meeting that seemed never-ending, you came home completely drained. Your shoulders ached from carrying your laptop all day, your mind was filled with work revisions, and all you wanted was to take a shower and go to bed early. The elevator finally stopped on your floor. You slowly walked toward your apartment door, searching for your keys inside your bag while letting out a long sigh.
But your steps came to an immediate halt. A pair of shoes you knew far too well had already been neatly placed in front of your door.
You closed your eyes.
"...Oh my God."
Only then did you remember. You had never changed the PIN to your apartment's smart lock. Not because you meant to.
You just...
Hadn't gotten around to it. Or maybe...
You hadn't truly had the heart to.
The moment the door opened, the aroma of warm food immediately filled your senses. The scent of seaweed soup mixed with roasted chicken and freshly steamed rice spread throughout the living room. The apartment lights glowed warmly, the television played nothing but soft instrumental music at low volume, and on the dining table sat two neatly arranged plates with cutlery already set.
Namjoon stepped out of the kitchen, still wearing the gray apron he used to wear whenever he cooked in your apartment.
"Oh."
He smiled faintly.
"You're home."
You stood there frozen for several seconds.
Then all you could do was let out another long sigh.
"Joon..."
"I bought dinner."
"Yeah, I can see that."
"You probably haven't eaten."
"I could've ordered something myself."
"I know."
It was always the same answer.
Always calm. Always leaving you with no reason left to stay angry.
Without thinking, he took your work bag from your shoulder and hung it by the door, just as he had always done before. There was nothing excessive about his movements. No attempt to touch you more than necessary. He didn't even try to hug you. All he did was help, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Go take a shower first."
"I'll heat up the food."
You stared at him for a few seconds.
"Why..."
Namjoon looked back at you.
"Hm?"
"Why are you still like this?"
He only gave a small shrug.
"Because I miss coming home."
The sentence was simple. Yet somehow, it made your chest tighten all over again.
After changing into more comfortable clothes, the two of you ate together in an atmosphere far calmer than it had been over the past few days. Every now and then, Namjoon told you stories about the last city he had visited on tour, about a museum he had managed to visit during a two-hour break, about the book he had been reading on the plane. He never forced you to join the conversation. Even when all you did was nod or answer briefly, he continued talking in the same warm tone.
After dinner, you automatically carried the dishes into the kitchen.
The moment you turned on the faucet, Namjoon was already standing beside you. Without being asked. Without saying a word.
He picked up a dry towel and began drying the dishes one by one, just like the routine the two of you had shared for years.
You washed. He dried.
You rinsed. He put everything away.
Nothing had changed. And somehow, that only made you even more confused.
You let out another sigh. Then another. And another.
Namjoon heard every single one of them. Of course he did. But he didn't say a word.
He simply continued what he was doing, occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eye. He looked far more exhausted than usual. The lack of sleep was no longer something he could hide, and even his shoulders seemed heavier than before. The tour wasn't over yet. His schedule was still packed. His body was clearly begging for rest.
Yet every time he had even a little free time...
He chose to come here.
To the apartment that, in your mind, was no longer his home.
Once the kitchen was clean again, the two of you moved into the living room. Rain fell softly beyond the window. You sat at one end of the sofa. Namjoon sat not too close, giving you space. Just as he had been doing lately.
"I'm tired."
You finally broke the silence.
"I know."
"It's not just about your schedule."
Namjoon nodded.
"I know."
"It's not just about waiting."
He nodded again.
"I know."
"You always know."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Yeah."
"That's it?"
"Yeah."
You looked at him in annoyance.
"You're not even going to defend yourself?"
Namjoon slowly shook his head.
"What's the point?"
"Because I'm the one who brought you to this point."
You lowered your gaze.
"And then?"
"Then I listen."
"And after that?"
"And after that..."
He paused for a moment.
"...I stay right here."
Your eyes slowly met his.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me right away."
"I'm not asking for everything to go back to normal tomorrow."
"But I'm not going to leave you alone to go through this."
Silence settled between the two of you once again. Only the sound of rain could be heard outside.
You didn't even realize when your eyes had started to fill with tears. Maybe because you were exhausted from holding up the walls you had built yourself. Maybe because the man sitting in front of you still chose to stay, even when every reply you gave him consisted of nothing more than one or two words. You knew you weren't easy to deal with, yet he had never once used that as an excuse to answer your pain with anger.
Namjoon watched you for a few moments.
Then he slowly raised one hand.
"May I?"
You didn't answer.
He gently tucked a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, moving so carefully as though he was afraid of pushing you even farther away. His fingertips lingered against your cheek for a few seconds before slowly falling away. There was no force in his touch. Only the gentleness that had always been both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness whenever it came to you.
"You're beautiful."
He whispered.
"Even when you're angry."
You looked at him for a long time.
Then, without realizing it, the distance between you slowly disappeared. Namjoon didn't move first. He let you decide.
When your breaths were already mingling together, you finally closed the remaining distance yourself. The first kiss was slow, filled with the uncertainty that had consumed both of your hearts over the past month. There were no words, only longing that was quietly finding its way home. Namjoon kissed you back with careful restraint, as though he feared that one move too sudden would make you pull away again.
When the two of you finally wrapped each other in an embrace, every emotion you had been holding back slowly began to melt away. There were no more arguments that night. There were only two people who were equally exhausted, equally homesick, and who had quietly realized that home was still something they found in each other. The night continued in warm silence, and when the two of you finally lay down in bed, Namjoon simply pulled you into his arms like he always used to, letting your head rest comfortably against his chest.
The room fell quiet. Only the soft rhythm of Namjoon's heartbeat echoed in your ears.
His strong arms wrapped securely around you, firm yet gentle, as though he wanted to make sure you knew he was there without having to say it over and over again. Every now and then, his fingers slowly stroked your back with the same familiar rhythm that had always managed to calm you whenever your thoughts became too overwhelming.
After several minutes, Namjoon finally spoke.
"If you're still angry..."
He gently kissed the top of your head.
"...then stay angry."
You didn't answer.
"I can wait."
Silence.
"A week."
"A month."
"Even longer than that."
His arms tightened around you just a little more.
"I'll go through it."
"I'm not going anywhere."
He took a slow breath before continuing in a voice barely above a whisper.
"I only want one thing."
"What?"
You finally asked softly. Namjoon smiled faintly.
"If one day you get tired again..."
"...don't leave."
"Just come home."
Because to him, a broken heart could still be mended together. The one thing he could never accept was letting the person he loved most continue believing she had to carry all of that exhaustion alone.
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That morning began like the few mornings before it.
You woke up first, while Namjoon was still asleep beside you with one arm unconsciously wrapped around your waist. The bedroom curtains weren't fully open yet. The morning sunlight had only just begun slipping through the narrow gap between them, filling the room with a warm golden glow. For a moment, everything felt like it used to. As though the past month had never happened, as though neither of you had ever hurt the other, and as though waking up beside each other was still a simple part of your everyday life.
But the moment your memories settled back into place, your chest tightened again. The two of you hadn't truly resolved anything.
Last night there wasn't an answer.
Last night was only a pause.
Carefully, you lifted Namjoon's arm off your waist so you wouldn't wake him. The moment your feet touched the floor, his husky voice came from behind you.
"Where are you going?"
You stopped.
"The kitchen."
"Hm."
There was no objection. No request for you to come back to bed. Just a quiet murmur before he closed his eyes again. An hour later, the aroma of coffee filled the apartment.
Namjoon had already showered and changed. A freshly ironed white shirt fit neatly around his frame, while his hair, still slightly damp, made him look younger than usual. Two cups of coffee and a few slices of toast he'd thrown together sat on the dining table. The sight felt so familiar that you almost forgot only a few days ago you had been insisting your relationship was over.
"I have to go."
He said while checking his watch.
"I've got practice."
You gave a small nod.
"Okay."
Your reply was still short. Still flat. Still keeping your distance. Namjoon only smiled faintly.
He finished his coffee, washed his own cup, then picked up the bag he'd left beside the sofa the night before. Before leaving, just as he had done over the past few days, he turned to look at you for a moment.
"I'll text you later."
"Okay."
There were no extra words. No smile. No lingering gaze.
The apartment door finally closed softly. And for the first time since he had returned from tour… You noticed his shoulders sink ever so slightly as he walked toward the elevator. The rest of the day went as usual. Namjoon sent you a photo from the practice room.
You replied, "Good luck."
He sent you a photo of his lunch.
You replied, "Okay."
He asked if you'd eaten.
"I have."
That was it. Nothing more.
That night, after his entire schedule was over, Namjoon sat alone inside the van taking him back home. His manager had already fallen asleep in the front seat. The streets of Seoul shimmered with lights reflecting across the windows, while his phone still displayed your chat.
Your last reply.
"I have."
One word. He reread it nearly ten times. Then he locked his screen. A few minutes later, he unlocked it again. Read it again. Not because he didn't understand the message. But because he was trying to convince himself that one word was still better than no reply at all.
The following afternoon, his schedule ended earlier than expected. Without giving it a second thought, he headed back to your apartment. This time, he wasn't carrying food. He wasn't carrying flowers. He wasn't carrying anything except a backpack that looked much heavier than usual.
You opened the door after hearing the PIN.
The moment you saw him standing there, you let out a quiet sigh.
"Come in."
You said shortly. Namjoon smiled faintly.
"Thank you."
There wasn't much conversation that afternoon. You worked on your laptop at the dining table. Namjoon sat on the sofa reading a book.
Every now and then, he made you tea. Every now and then, he asked if the air conditioner was too cold. Every now and then, he quietly placed snacks beside you without interrupting your work.
The apartment remained quiet. But little by little, that silence began to feel heavy.
As the night grew later, you finally closed your laptop. The moment you looked up, you truly noticed Namjoon's face.
His eyes were red. Not because he had been crying. Because he hadn't been sleeping.
The exhaustion on his face was far more obvious than it had been a few days ago. His complexion looked slightly pale, and several times he rubbed the back of his neck as though his muscles had been overworked for far too long. For the first time, you realized that you had been so busy holding on to your anger that you'd forgotten to notice the condition of the person sitting in front of you.
"Tired?"
You asked softly.
Namjoon nodded.
"Yeah."
"You could go home."
"Yeah."
"Then why are you still here?"
He stayed quiet for a few seconds. His gaze fell to the floor. Then he smiled faintly.
"I am home."
That answer left you speechless.
Namjoon slowly rubbed his face.
"I know you're still angry."
"Yeah."
"I know you're still disappointed."
"Yeah."
"I also know..."
He paused for a moment, as though choosing the right words.
"...that lately, I'm starting to get tired too."
You immediately lifted your head. That was the first time. The very first time since all of this began, Namjoon admitted he was tired.
Not tired because of the tour. Not tired because of work. But… Because of everything.
"I'm tired of waking up every morning thinking..."
He let out a quiet laugh.
"...how many words you'll reply with today."
You fell silent.
"I'm tired of finishing a concert..."
"...then automatically opening our chat."
"Even though I already know your answer will probably just be 'yeah' or 'okay.'"
He didn't sound angry. That was exactly what made your chest hurt even more.
"I'm tired of sitting on an eight-hour flight..."
"...while the only thing on my mind is getting here as quickly as possible."
"Because to me..."
He looked at you.
"...my home is here."
Your eyes began to fill with tears.
"But every time I get here..."
His smile faded just a little.
"...I have to pretend I'm not sad when you're still pushing me away."
Silence.
The living room was completely quiet. Namjoon wasn't crying. He wasn't raising his voice. He wasn't blaming you. He simply sat there in front of you, his shoulders looking heavier than you had ever seen before.
"I don't regret waiting."
He said quietly.
"I'll keep waiting."
"That won't change."
"But..."
He let out a long breath.
"...can I..."
His sentence hung in the air for several seconds.
"...at least get a sign from you once in a while that I'm still allowed to hope?"
The tears you'd been holding back finally fell.
One drop. Then another.
Namjoon didn't move from where he was. He didn't immediately pull you into his arms.
He simply sat there quietly, allowing you to feel every emotion the two of you had been keeping buried for so long. For the first time, you realized that his patience didn't mean he wasn't hurting. He had simply chosen to carry everything by himself so you wouldn't feel guilty. Behind all of his calmness was someone who also came home exhausted every single night—and the only place he had ever wanted to come home to was you.
As your tears continued falling harder, Namjoon finally rose slowly to his feet. He walked over and stopped right in front of you before hesitantly lifting one hand.
"Can I hug you?"
The question was so simple. So careful. It wasn't the question of someone trying to force their way in.
It was the question of someone still asking for permission to come home to the place he had always considered his home.
This time… For the first time after spending an entire month holding up those walls… You gave a small nod.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The hug lasted much longer than either of you realized.
Namjoon didn't say a word. His arms simply stayed wrapped warmly around you while his hand slowly stroked your back in an unhurried rhythm, gentle enough that your sobs gradually faded on their own. He never tried to stop your tears. He simply let you sit on his lap and cry until you had nothing left to hold in, just as he had always done whenever you were overwhelmed by your emotions.
Several minutes later, you were the first to pull away.
Your eyes were still swollen. The tip of your nose had turned red. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him for very long.
"I..."
Your voice was barely audible.
"...I'm sorry."
Namjoon only tilted his head slightly.
"Hm?"
"I was mean."
You let out a small laugh between the sniffles that hadn't completely disappeared.
"Really mean."
He remained silent, letting you finish everything you wanted to say.
"I know you're tired."
"You travel all over the world."
"Your schedule never stops."
"You must barely get any sleep."
Your tears began falling again.
"And every time you came home..."
You bit your lower lip.
"...all you got was me being cold to you."
Silence.
"I kept replying with short texts."
"I ignored you."
"I kept saying we were broken up."
Your voice grew quieter.
"Even though..."
You wiped your own cheek.
"...I know you didn't deserve to be treated like that."
Namjoon still didn't interrupt.
His gaze remained gentle. Still full of patience. As though he had come that night with the sole purpose of listening to you.
"I'm sorry..."
The words finally came out with a trembling breath.
"I'm really sorry."
For several seconds, the room fell silent again.
You waited for his response. Maybe advice. Maybe something wise. Or maybe... he would finally admit that you'd gone too far. But instead, Namjoon let out a quiet sigh before leaning back against the sofa.
"Okay."
You blinked.
"...Okay?"
"Yeah."
"That's it?"
"Yeah."
You immediately frowned.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
You stared at him in disbelief.
"Joon."
"Hm?"
"Why aren't you mad?"
Namjoon thought for a few seconds.
"Because..."
He genuinely looked as though he was considering his answer carefully.
"...I'm calculating."
"Calculating what?"
"A debt."
You became even more confused.
"A debt?"
"Yeah."
Namjoon nodded firmly.
"You owe me."
Your eyebrows shot up.
"Huh?"
"Yeah."
"Owe you what?"
Namjoon put on an overly serious expression that immediately made you suspicious.
"One month."
"Yeah?"
"One whole month."
"Yeah."
"You kept sending short replies."
"..."
"Almost all of them."
"..."
"There's a penalty for that."
You stared at him for a few seconds.
Then, without realizing it, you let out a quiet laugh.
"A penalty?"
"Yeah."
"Says who?"
"Me."
"How convenient."
"Yeah."
He nodded without feeling even the slightest bit guilty.
You could only shake your head.
"So what's the penalty?"
Namjoon leaned forward slightly. His expression was still far too serious for someone saying something so ridiculous.
"One short reply..."
He held up one finger.
"...equals one kiss."
Your eyes widened immediately.
"What?"
"The rules are simple."
He started counting on his fingers.
"'Yeah.'"
"One."
"'Okay.'"
"Two."
"'Hm.'"
"Three."
"'Already.'"
"Four."
You lightly smacked his arm.
"Hey!"
Namjoon simply chuckled.
"That's only the first day."
"Kim Namjoon!"
"I haven't even counted the stickers yet."
You tried to hold back your laughter as you hit his shoulder again.
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm serious."
"You're not."
"I am."
"There's no way you actually counted."
"I did."
"No way."
Namjoon picked up his phone. Then he opened your chat. Scrolled. Scrolled again. Then showed you the screen.
"Look."
In his notes app, there really was a list.
Short Reply Project Yeah Okay Hm Later Already Sure Total: 47
Your eyes widened.
"...Joon."
"Hm?"
"You actually counted?"
"Yeah."
"You..."
You covered your face while laughing. "...you're insane."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
Your laughter finally filled the living room for the first time in weeks.
Namjoon watched you as you finally laughed again. His expression immediately softened.
"That..."
He said quietly. "...is much better."
"What is?"
"Your laugh."
"I like that much more."
Your laughter slowly faded. The heaviness that had been sitting in your chest finally began to feel a little lighter.
"So..."
You glanced at the absurd list on his phone. "...forty-seven kisses?"
"Yeah."
"Not happening."
"You can pay in installments."
You immediately slapped your forehead.
"Oh my God."
"Zero percent interest."
"Kim Namjoon..."
"You don't even need a down payment."
You couldn't hold back your laughter anymore.
"Who taught you to say things like that?"
"Yoo—"
He immediately cut himself off. "...never mind."
You narrowed your eyes.
"Yoongi, wasn't it?"
Namjoon pretended to cough.
"I didn't say anything."
You laughed even harder. The awkwardness that had filled the apartment for so long finally shattered completely.
Watching you laugh like that, Namjoon slowly shifted a little closer. Not too close. Just enough for your knees to almost touch.
"So..."
He opened the note again. "First installment?"
You immediately shook your head.
"No."
"Half?"
"No."
"A discount?"
"No."
"Today's special promotion."
"Kim Namjoon."
"Hm?"
"You're so annoying."
"I know."
"Very."
"Yeah."
"But..."
You tried to hide the smile that kept finding its way onto your face.
"...thank you."
"For what?"
"For being patient."
Namjoon looked at you for a long moment. His smile gradually became softer.
"Always."
That single word made the room fall silent once again. Without thinking too much, you slowly reached out and gently grabbed the collar of his T-shirt.
Namjoon froze.
"...Huh?"
"Stay still."
You said softly.
"Huh?"
You gently pulled him a little closer.
"I'm making a payment."
Namjoon's eyes immediately widened.
"You're serious?"
"Hm."
"This is the first installment?"
"Yeah."
His smile instantly spread across his face like a little kid who had just been handed a birthday present.
"Can I smile first?"
You couldn't help but laugh.
"Why?"
"Because I honestly didn't expect such a cooperative debtor."
"Joon!"
"Okay, okay."
He raised both hands in surrender, though the grin on his face was impossible to hide.
You slowly shook your head at his antics. Then, your face growing warmer by the second, you leaned in and gave him a brief kiss. A very brief one. Only a few seconds.
But just as you were about to pull away, Namjoon whispered with a triumphant smile.
"So..."
"Hm?"
"That means..."
"...your remaining debt is only forty-six kisses."
You stared at him for a few seconds. Then grabbed one of the sofa cushions and lightly smacked his shoulder.
"You!"
Namjoon's laughter echoed throughout the entire apartment. And for the first time after a month filled with nothing but pain, the apartment finally sounded like home again—a place where tears were slowly replaced by laughter, and where two people who loved each other were finally beginning to find their way back home, one small step at a time.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The night grew later, yet neither of you had any intention of leaving the sofa.
The living room lights had been deliberately dimmed, leaving only the warm glow of the standing lamp in the corner of the room. The rain outside had completely stopped, making the apartment feel even more peaceful. You were still sitting comfortably on Namjoon's lap while he absentmindedly played with the sleeve of your sweater, a small habit that always appeared whenever his mind finally began to settle.
"Still don't want to get down?"
Namjoon asked with a smile. You pretended to think.
"Hm..."
"I think I'm pretty comfortable."
"Good."
"Then you don't have to get down."
You immediately let out a small laugh.
"How convenient."
"Yeah."
"This is my favorite seat."
He gently patted his own thigh.
"Seat?"
"Reserved just for you."
You shook your head, amused. "You're unbelievable."
Namjoon chuckled softly. His laughter sounded much freer than it had over the past few days, as though the weight that had been resting on his shoulders was finally beginning to lift little by little. Seeing you laugh like this again turned out to be far more effective than eight hours of sleep or a week-long vacation. He didn't even realize that his smile hadn't truly disappeared once since then.
"Can I be selfish?" He suddenly asked.
"Why are you asking first?"
"Because I'm trying to be the perfect boyfriend now."
You raised an eyebrow.
"Since when?"
"Since I almost lost you."
That answer slowly softened your smile.
Namjoon gently brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers.
"I just want this for a little while."
"Like what?"
"Being close."
"That's all?"
"Yeah."
"If possible..."
He hugged you a little tighter.
"...for a long time."
You didn't answer.
Instead, you slowly rested your head against his shoulder. You could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat right beside your ear. It felt strange—so calming, so familiar—that it was hard to believe the two of you had really spent an entire month without being this close.
Namjoon gently kissed the top of your head.
Then your temple.
Then your cheek.
Every kiss was slow, filled with patience, as though he was trying to make up for the time the two of you had lost. When his face moved closer toward the side of your neck to place another light kiss there, you instinctively flinched.
"Hey!"
Namjoon immediately stopped.
"Hm?"
You giggled as you leaned away slightly.
"Wait..."
"What?"
You gently rubbed the side of your neck.
"That tickles."
"Tickles?"
"Yeah."
Namjoon looked genuinely confused.
"I was being gentle."
"It's not that."
You looked at his face more closely.
Only now did you really notice the line of his jaw.
A faint shadow of facial hair had begun growing around his chin and jawline. It wasn't messy, but it was enough for you to feel it brushing against your skin just now. His face also looked a little duller than usual, as though the skincare routine he used to do every night before bed had truly been forgotten.
You let out a small laugh.
"Joon..."
"Hm?"
"You haven't shaved, have you?"
Namjoon automatically touched his own chin.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Why 'yeah'?"
He smiled sheepishly.
"I haven't had the time."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"And your skincare too?"
"Hm..."
He scratched the back of his neck.
"...sometimes I fall asleep."
You immediately shook your head.
"No wonder."
"What?"
"You look exhausted."
Namjoon laughed quietly.
"I am exhausted."
You gently ran your fingertips along his jaw.
"You always used to look so neat."
"Yeah."
"And now?"
Namjoon shrugged.
"I haven't really had any motivation."
"Why?"
He looked at you for a few seconds. Then answered with a completely serious expression.
"Besides..."
"...there wasn't anyone I wanted to kiss."
You immediately fell silent.
A few seconds later, your cheeks slowly began to warm.
"Joon..."
"What?"
"Don't say things like that."
"But it's true."
He let out a quiet laugh.
"What's the point of shaving..."
"...when the person who makes me want to look nice again was mad at me?"
You covered your face. "Oh my God..."
"What?"
"You're so annoying when you're being romantic."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
You shook your head, laughing quietly. His hand found yours again, gently wrapping around it.
"I promise." You suddenly said.
Namjoon tilted his head. "Promise what?"
"Tomorrow."
"Hm?"
"We're shaving."
"We?"
"Yeah."
"You."
"And I'll supervise."
Namjoon's eyes immediately lit up.
"So..."
A mischievous grin spread across his face.
"...does that mean I can come over again tomorrow?"
You pretended to let out a long sigh.
"Hm..."
"We'll see."
"Huh."
"If you do your skincare."
"Okay."
"Get enough sleep."
"Okay."
"And don't skip your meals."
"Okay."
"Can you do that?"
Namjoon nodded repeatedly like a little kid.
"I can."
"As long as..."
"As long as what?"
He gently rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.
"...after that, I get to lie down with you again."
You looked at his face, so sincere and so incredibly endearing at the same time. Behind all the packed schedules, concerts, interviews, and endless traveling, the simplest happiness he wanted was nothing more than this—sitting on the sofa in your apartment, joking about the stubble growing along his jaw, and spending the night together without having to say goodbye too soon.
In the end, you gave a small nod.
"Deal."
His smile immediately widened.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"But..."
You gently pinched his cheek.
"...tomorrow you have to be handsome again."
Namjoon laughed freely before, without thinking, resting his forehead against yours.
"If you're the one telling me to..."
He whispered softly.
"...I'll gladly become the most diligent guy in the world when it comes to shaving."
You giggled as you shook your head, then without realizing it rested your head against his shoulder once more. That night was filled with little conversations that didn't really matter, laughter that came effortlessly, and a silence that finally felt comfortable again—just like a home that had once been lost, then slowly found once more together.
Author Notes: These are actually drabble from my ongoing series, so they’re still connected to the main storyline I’ve been working on. You can check out the full series (Between Collisions). If you liked this story, please leave a comment, I’d love to read your thoughts 🥰💬. Your thoughts honestly mean a lot and keep me motivated to continue writing. And feel free to reblog/share so more people can enjoy it too 🌸✨
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