BTS One Shots

OMG

Author's Note: New Jeans is my new favorite 4th gen group. I've been listening to their music on repeat, and I love how unique their concepts are, making them stand out from other groups. I can't wait to see what the future holds for them

One shots (Namjoon):

🎤 (They keep on asking me, "who is he?").

You're only one call away.

(They keep on asking me, "who is he?").

You show up with no hesitation.

(They keep on asking me, "who is he?").

Can this be real?

(They keep on asking me, "who is he?").

You really are, he's the one that's living in my system, baby.

Oh my, oh my God, I knew this would happen.

I was really hoping that he will come through.

Oh my, oh my God, it's only you.

Asking all the time about what I should do.

No, I can never let him go (ooh).

I only think of you, twenty four (ooh).

I'm a lucky girl (ooh).

I know, I know (ooh).

Before I met you (ooh).

Everything was pointless (ooh).

My feeling is boundless (ooh).

I know, I know, I'm going crazy right? 🎤

Namjoon Kim was a patient in a mental ward.

He could see spirits, which was concerning to his parents, who didn't understand him as a person.

I mean, he didn't have many friends, and he talked to himself, claiming that he was talking to the ghosts, who were keeping him company.

His parents didn't understand this though, meaning that they sent him to a mental hospital as soon as he graduated from highschool.

That was three years ago.

He's been there ever since, only seeing his family whenever they visited, which wasn't often, due to the fact that his parents were always working.

That wasn't unusual, honestly, since they've been working as long as he could remember, causing them to be distant with their only son.

Which made his childhood a lonely one, but he was used to being alone, enjoying the peaceful silence that came with it.

It made it easier for him to organize his thoughts, and he always kept himself busy, when he wasn't in group therapy.

He would read often, having a list of all his favorite books, along with the ones that he found boring, and hated.

He also kept a small journal, which was home to his many doodles, mainly people.

He liked to draw the ghosts that he saw, writing their names onto the bottom of the page, along with the date when he met them.

It was a way for him to remember them.

Right now, he was sketching a young woman, one who was only a couple years younger than him, around seventeen.

She had short black hair with bangs, along with light brown eyes, and was wearing a school uniform, showing that she was in highschool when she died.

He didn't know much about her- due to the fact that she was naturally shy, not telling him much.

He knew though, that her name was Nina, and that she was of both Korean and American descent.

Hence her name.

She was sitting across from him, her light brown eyes watching as he continued his sketch, making sure to get every detail right.

He wanted his drawing to be perfect- I mean, he always did, making sure to double check that everything was perfect once he finished them.

And this one was no different.

The day room was silent that morning, consisting of other patients, who were reading, or building puzzles silently, enjoying that time of day.

He had an hour to spare before group therapy started, meaning that he was using his time wisely, finishing his drawing.

And, once he was done, he signed his name on the bottom, before lifting it up and turning it around, so that she could see the drawing.

"Well," he asked her, keeping his tone of voice soft, so that he wouldn't get the attention of the other patients in the room.

"What do you think?"

She just stared at it, before shrugging her shoulders, but he just smiled softly, knowing that was her way of telling him that she liked it.

He closed the journal after that, before placing the charcoal back into the tray, where the other art supplies were.

He didn't like sharing his belongings, but knew that he had no choice in the matter, since it was frowned upon for patients to have their own belongings.

In the mental hospital, you had no choice but to share.

Unfortunately.

He was used to it though, and was counting down the days before he got released, since he couldn't wait to return home.

He couldn't wait to ride his bike around the city, and have the freedom that he didn't have inside the mental ward.

I mean, there was a small garden at the mental hospital, but those visits were supervised, and every patient only got thirty minutes a day outside.

And he hated it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the bell ringing, signaling the start of group therapy, along with the end of morning break.

He just sighed, before slipping the journal into his pants pocket, standing up from the table that he was sitting at.

"I'll see you later," he muttered to her, watching as she faded away, leaving him alone with the other patients.

He shook his head, before leaving the break room, and walking towards the group center where group therapy was held.

There were two different kinds of therapy at the hospital- group therapy and one on one sessions.

Personally, he preferred the individual sessions, since he hated talking about his feelings, along with why he was there, in front of the other patients.

He's always hated their judgemental looks, causing him to get embarrassed, knowing that they were judging him without even knowing him.

Which gave him another reason to hate the place.

He sat down on the white plastic chair, watching as the other patients joined the circle, some more hesitant than others.

He then watched as the group therapist entered the room, before speaking, getting their attention, and starting the morning group therapy session.

And he wasn't looking forward to it.