BTS One Shots

Cough Syrup

Author's Note: I know that I said in the last update that I was going to take a break, but I've changed my mind over the last two days. I'm feeling a lot better, my brain is just fuzzy, making it hard to think, but I'll be fine. 

One shots (Namjoon):

🎤 Life's too short to even care at all, I'm losing my mind.

Losing my mind.

Losing control.

These fishes in the sea they're staring at me, a wet world aches for a beat of a dream.

If I could find a way to see this straight I'd run away, to some fortune that I should have found by now.

I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down.

Come down. 🎤

Namjoon Kim has suffered from depression his entire life.

It first developed when he was living with his mother, who was both neglecting and manipulating; bouncing around from guy to guy, sleeping with them just to put a roof over both of their heads.

When he was three, however, the Child Protective Services stepped in, and sent him to live with his estranged father, Seokjin, who was the CEO of a popular electronics manufacturer.

He lived in America, though, meaning that he was shipped overseas to live with a man that wasn't active in the first three years of his life- they were practically strangers to each other.

And this definitely didn't help with his depression.

He knew that his father loved him, sure, but he was always busy with work, and was never able to spend time with him.

Which made him even more depressed, causing him to resent both his parents, and develop a deep hatred for them.

He just couldn't understand why this kind of life was given to him- why couldn't have he been giving loving parents instead?

Fast forward to the present day.

He was lying in a hospital bed that day, which was lit up by the early afternoon sun that was shining through the open windows.

His chestnut brown hair was tousled on top of his head, and his golden hazel eyes were focused on the TV that was sitting in the corner of the ceiling; a random sitcom playing on the screen.

There was a bored frown on his face, and he was trying his best to ignore the pain that was coming from his left arm which was covered in white medical bandages.

He tried to kill himself the night before, hence why he was in the hospital that afternoon.

He could hear his father talking to the doctor outside the hospital room door, their words sounding like whispers, since the door was closed.

He knew that they did that for privacy reasons, not wanting him to eavesdrop on their conversation.

He was eighteen for God's sake, and knew better than to eavesdrop on someone's private conversation.

He wasn't three anymore.

His thoughts were interrupted by the hospital room door opening, his father appearing inside the room.

His black hair was brushed back on top of his head, and his dark brown eyes were hidden behind black framed glasses that he normally wore to work.

Which explained the suit that he was wearing, meaning that he most likely just came from the office, since he wasn't there that morning.

He most likely went straight into work from the hospital last night.

"I thought that we talked about this, Namjoon," he said, closing the door behind him, before walking towards the bed, and sitting down into the white plastic chair that was near the window.

In case you were wondering, this wasn't the first time that the young male tried to end his own life.

He did this before; always trying different ways to end his life, even though nothing seemed to work.

The first time he did this, he overdosed on his father's sleeping pills, but woke up in the hospital the next morning, alive and just as sad as he usually was.

Then he tried to drown himself, only to fail when the housekeeper found him, calling both his father and the police.

That definitely wasn't fun.

After that, he tried to jump off the roof of his apartment complex, only to chicken out, due to his phobia of heights.

And now, for the fourth attempt, he tried to slit his wrists, only to fail again when his father walked in on him after he forgot to close the bathroom door.

Which was stupid of him.

"The doctor's prescribing you some antidepressants," his father went on, keeping his tone of voice calm, while his dark brown eyes watched his son, who was watching the TV with fake interest.

"I'm also putting you on 24 hour security, which is going to cause someone to follow you around, so we can prevent this from happening again.

First I have to deal with your mother, and now I have to deal with this?"

He muttered that last part underneath his breath, but the young male could still hear those words, causing him to frown even harder.

He knew that his father blamed him for everything that's happened over the last few years- first his mother loses her custody, causing him to be put in the care of his estranged father.

He knew that the older male didn't want to be a father in the first place- why else would he abandon him, leaving him in the custody of his mother?

But what Namjoon didn't know was that that wasn't the case at all- Seokjin did want to be active in his life.

In fact, he's tried to reach out to him over the first three years of his life: sending him letters and birthday cards every year whenever he could.

He knew though, that his ex-girlfriend never gave their son those letters, due to the fact that he never got a reply.

He still tried, though, always regretting the fact that he left his son in the care of someone who didn't want him.

That was why he let the three year old live with him, once Child Protective Services reached out to him.

He knew that he wasn't the best father, sure, but he was trying his best, especially since he had a company to run also.

It definitely wasn't easy being a CEO and a father at the same time.

There was an uncomfortable silence surrounding them, which was later interrupted by the older males cell phone ringing.

His dark brown eyes glanced at the caller ID, before discovering that it was a work call, making a frown appear on his face.

"Get some rest, okay?" He told his son, keeping his tone of voice calm, glancing up at him for only a couple seconds.

"You're going to be here for a while."

He walked out of the room after that, most likely answering the phone in the process, leaving the eighteen year old in the comfort of his thoughts.

He frowned, which wasn't unusual since he was always frowning, and his golden hazel eyes stayed focused on the sitcom that was playing on the TV; most likely a rerun.

And it was easy to say that he hated his life.