Pretend To Be Mine | Namjin FF ✓

act to be mine

Seokjin:

I am pacing back and forth in my living room, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety.

I had texted Namjoon a few hours ago, eagerly waiting for a reply. But to my surprise, there was no response. Can you imagine the frustration?

Despite the lack of communication, a glimmer of hope remained within me.

After all, Namjoon had seen the message. Maybe he was just caught up in something and hadn't gotten a chance to reply yet.

So, I held onto that hope, hoping that he would eventually come through.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, the doorbell suddenly rang, jolting me into action.

My heart raced with anticipation. Could it be Namjoon? If it was him, I vowed to myself that I would let him know exactly how frustrated I was with his lack of response.

I prepared myself to give him a piece of my mind, if it turned out to be him at the door.

I swung open the door, my face contorted in a fierce glare, ready to unleash my frustration.

But as soon as my eyes met his, my glare dissolved into thin air. Damn, why is he so incredibly handsome?

There he was, looking all dapper in his white half-sleeve shirt, brown slacks, and a brown coat casually draped over his elbow.

With those sunglasses on, it was clear he meant business. It seemed like he had come here for a meeting. Such a suave and sophisticated look.

"Hmm, sorry sir, but this isn't your office. I suppose you came here for a meeting." I said, trying to add a touch of sass and savagery to my tone, knowing exactly how he usually responds.

Let's see how he handles this one.

"Alright then, goodbye." He raised an eyebrow at me, seemingly unaffected by my sassy remark.

It hit me that I needed him more than he needed me, so I put my sassy attitude aside and immediately caught his arm.

"Haha, looks like you didn't catch the joke! Well, come on in." I said with a laugh, putting on an amused expression on my face.

But honestly, deep down, I feel a bit embarrassed.

I mean, why do I have to be all savage when I'm the one who needs his help?

"Your jokes sucks" he said and I swear to God if he didn't match the image of my imaginary boyfriend I would have killed him and buried somewhere.

"Make yourself at home." I said through gritted teeth as we reached the living room.

"Nice house." He remarked looking at my house with a judging gaze, I don't need his confirmation.

I know my house is as pretty as myself. 

He plopped down on the sofa, one hand casually resting on the back and one leg crossed over the other.

Man, he was sitting there like a king on his throne!

Dang, looks like I'm the one crashing' in his house! Can't help but feel like a guest in my own place.

"Do you need anything?" As much as I don't want to offer him anything I can't do this as I'm a good human and a host. 

He shook his head, which worked out fine because I wasn't planning on giving him anything anyway.

"So we have to act like we're so in love with each other," I said.

The mere thought of pretending to love him makes me feel sick, but I'm trapped because of my own foolishness.

"I know," he said. Ugh, why does he have to be such an arrogant jerk?