Criminal Next Door [Namjin]

International Playboy

Clip clip clip.

Seokjin cut smoothly around the image of a giant duck and pasted it to the coffee table’s surface, smoothing the edges with his fingers. It reminded him of the disastrous Halloween he attempted to dress up five-year-old Taehyung in a makeshift costume consisting of a pillowcase and flip-flops. The final touch had been an orange funnel he’d taped over his brother’s mouth in lieu of a beak. They’d been forced to return home when Taehyung kept running into people and trees, unable to see over the kitchen utensil.

He turned the page in his Good Housekeeping magazine, eyes immediately drawn to the image of a family dressed in robes, gathered around a Christmas tree, complete with a wealth of wrapped presents at its base. His smile disappeared. They’d never been able to afford a Christmas tree or presents, save the camera he’d bought Taehyung one year. Carefully, he cut around the tree, before applying paste to the back and slapping it upside down on the table.

As he browsed further through the glossy pages, Seokjin caught himself wondering what kind of home life Namjoon experienced as a child, then quickly sipped his scalding coffee to dispel the thought. He would never find out and it didn’t matter. Namjoon's childhood could have rivaled his in shittiness and it wouldn’t change a thing.

He ripped a page from the magazine and began cutting out a cherry pie recipe. Maybe this project’s theme could be Irony. A table full of things they’d never had. Disgusted with his attitude, Seokjin let the scissors drop on the floor and heaved the magazine across the room.

Ironic is me buying Good Housekeeping magazine in the first place, he thought, looking around at his pathetic attempt to create a home for Taehyung. It might have been a vast improvement from Daegu, but to him it screamed low-class. God, he’d never escape the reminders of where and what he’d come from. Maybe he wasn’t meant to.

Seokjin wrapped his arms around his knees and hugged them to his chest, letting his head fall forward. The second his eyes closed, Namjoon’s plea swam through his mind.

Give me a chance, princess.

Was he only imagining the plaintiveness in the man's tone? He hadn’t slept since their conversation, the memory still felt achingly fresh. Allowing himself to imagine, even for a second, what he’d meant by “give me a chance,” left him feeling dizzy and panicked. Namjoon didn’t know, couldn’t know, what he asked of the boy.

By forcing him to acknowledge that the lieutenant's interest went beyond sexual attraction, he’d effectively blasted a hole in the side of the boy's already-sinking ship. Seokjin didn’t know his own identity without the illusion of sex. Had always used his looks to his advantage. But Namjoon wanted more. He wanted Seokjin.

Who am I, really?

Yesterday, he would have winked and told anyone who asked, “I’m a boy with a big heart and an even bigger mouth.” Today? He didn’t have an answer. For so long, his focus had been solely on Taehyung, and he wouldn’t change his actions for anything in the world. But somewhere along the way, had he become the boy he’d merely been pretending to be?

Namjoon seemed to think more existed underneath the surface. How could he be so sure? If Seokjin gave him a chance, how long would it take him to realize his error?

Seokjin couldn’t open himself up for that kind of pain.

Not even for Namjoon, who could comfort, arouse, and challenge with a single look.

Caught up in his own thoughts, Seokjin nearly jumped out of his skin when Taehyung spoke to him from the kitchen.

“Coffee, hyung?”