Save Me

3

A loud rumbling pierces the silence of the shared room and Namjoon holds his painful stomach, begging to be fed. Groaning, the exhausted male reaches for his phone, the light temporarily blinding him. The time reads 4:27am. His clothes cling to his skin irritably, and Namjoon is quick to remove the harsh fabric. He looks over to the sleeping figure on the other side of the room, silently moves past him and into the hall. Tiredly, the man makes his way to the bathroom and is quick to turn the shower on, making sure the temperature was as cold as possible. 'You need to work out. Just having a cold shower will not make you lose much weight, pig.' Namjoon silently agrees with the voice in his mind and vows to go to the gym as soon as he has finished showering. The cold water cascades down his aching body, the cuts burning underneath the unforgiving temperature. 'You deserve this. The pain. Work out till you can't see straight. You need to film the music video in two days, right? You don't want your beloved fans to see how fat you are, do you?' Namjoon casts his mind back to the last music video, IDOL. He received a lot of negative comments on his weight, and he would not let it happen again. He would make himself perfect for them.

His feet, struggling to keep up, repeatedly hit the treadmill belt. Everything hurts. Black spots cloud his vision as he looks to his watch, 7:38am. He presses some buttons and the treadmill comes to a walking pace allowing the overworked man to catch his breath and turn his music off. 'No, you need to work more! No one will ever love you if you're this fat. Work hard for once in your life.' Deciding he has done enough for now and ignoring the protests in his mind, he heads to the gym showers and quickly rinses himself off. Namjoon, painfully swinging his bag onto his damp back, makes his way out of the crowded gym and into a taxi parked outside. The ride is quiet with the occasional small talk shared between the driver and himself.  Rain pelts the windows of the quiet taxi, bringing Namjoon a sense of calm and serenity, something he hasn't had in a long time. Peace. He is pulled out of his unintentional meditative state when the car swerves dangerously, a horn sounding seconds after. "Sorry, drunk driver," was all the driver said before the silence engulfed the both of them. The sound of wipers, an indicator, the faint talk from outside bookshops and cafés drifting its way trough the cracked window. Is it calming? Or is it mocking him? People freely living their lives without having to worry about paparazzi or how their actions will effect those around them. Namjoon couldn't decide. "We're here." The taxi driver comes to a stop outside BigHit. As Namjoon walks out, he hands the driver the money plus extra and watches the taxi fade away into the distance. Oh, what he would give to just drive and never have to stop. 

The rain grips to his clothes uncomfortably, the bright sun failing to keep him warm. He begrudgingly makes his way inside the clean building, checking the time once again. 8:05am. He was late. His feet pound against the marble floor. 'No time to wait for an elevator.... stairs it is.' Anxiously, he recklessly runs up three flights of stairs before he comes to a closed door. After composing himself, he pushes the door open timidly and quietly slips inside, head down. "Why are you late?" His manager looks at him disapprovingly, the rest of his group let out sighs of relief.
"I am so sorry, sir. I went for a walk in the park this morning and I got a taxi back but there was traffic." His manager studies him, debating whether or not to punish him.
A sigh, "Just sit down, Namjoon. Do not let this happen again." Nodding his head, Namjoon quickly takes a seat at the end of the table, next to Jungkook, and attempts to regulate his breathing. "Now, you all know we are filming the new music video in two days. Halsey should arrive tonight but you will not see her till tomorrow due to jet lag and to allow her to get accommodated. Your hair will be dyed at some point today and you will be fitted for your outfits. Here are you schedules." A young woman, no older than 25, passes out laminated papers to each individual member, Namjoon last. 'I won't have any time to work out...' he bites his lower lip, a habit he has when he is anxious. "Okay, get to work!" The manager excitedly  shouts, followed by the cheers of his band mates. All except him.