Smoke Me.

Chapter 50: Deal

It was kind of a blur.

The back of his head and the bed he's sleeping on.

This messy dorm room.

The vodka bottle. I can hardly see it. But I keep sipping it cause if I'd stop, I feel like it'll all wash over me like a poisoned shower.

Wish I could go running.

Wish I could get away from Namjoon.

And at the same time, for a few hours now, I kept wishing I'd stay as close to him as possible cause I'm scared I'd get killed the second I'll step out of this room.

A peculiar feeling created this horrible hunch that kept repeating in my ears: 'This is the day we might both die.'

That: 'He'll die because of me. Just like the guy with the glasses had died. What was his name again? I already forgot...' I thought about it, but all I could see was him getting shot by Jay in that clearing, over and over again.

There was a part of me that wanted to believe that against all odds, we might not die.

But my sips of Namjoon's vodka have been plenty. The room seemed brighter despite the drawn long curtains, and although I was not moving a muscle, my mind has been running in circles for such a long time now that I almost managed to convince myself that tomorrow will not come at all. That was until I heard a sleepy Namjoon mumbling: "What are you doing?"

I allowed clear lines of vodka to pour out of my mouth the way I'd seen in cartoons, but only because I was feeling like a thief that got caught stealing.

But when I cracked my head to the right, Namjoon smiled at me and then got out of bed half stretching, half walking.

I only bothered to wipe the liquid off my chin and not the drips that landed on the borrowed pants or Jimin's desk chair.

Namjoon was patting the pants and my mouth with a rag like a parent would do for a baby two minutes later.

"Where did you find that?" He asked while wiping the chair.
"By Jimin's bed..." I tried to lie to see if he'd believe me.
"That's mine, isn't it?"

I shrugged. Disappointed with myself or with how fast Namjoon saw through me.

When his hands were still too close to my crotch and our eyes met, I heard it. The thought that was now more important than death in the white and black, static-like mind: 'I kissed Taehyung. Not only that... Taehyung has touched me and then...'
"What are you contemplating so hard?"
"... Nothing..." I shrugged my shoulders and was relieved when he threw the rag on the desk.
"Look," He breathed out with one hand on each shoulder as I fixated my gaze behind him, "I know you're worried about today. But you shouldn't be. Have some faith in me. Will you?"
"Ok,"

'I have to since I've been awake for hours and I got no clue on how to trap you in this room.' I thought.

"Ok?"
'I'd rather pretend the past few days were nothing but a bad dream. But you want to go out and use your murdering skills for good... How... noble of you.' I kept thinking.

"Ok, I repeated.
"Ok." He stated again, more so for himself; looking at me with disbelief, suddenly wondering: "Does your eye hurt? And the cuts... and...."

Namjoon analyzed me up and down as if he could see through the clothes and the fact that I was leaning against the chair was helping since he helped me stand straighter.
"Not so much since I've started drinking."
"And when was that?"
"... what time is it?"

He checked his phone and answered with one raised eyebrow:
"Ten AM."
"Eh, earlier than that."
His head hung in the space between us before he looked up. A bit too close for comfort. A bit unfriend-like. A bit too close to my face than he's been since we've broken up.