worth it

three.

collapsing onto the ground, namjoon struggled to catch his breath as his back touched the cool, grimy metal of the dumpster. even though it was a fit guy, who made time to work on his physique and be healthy, the heinous act he had just committed really took the wind out of him. it was worth it, though, every last second of it, and as he set down the bat, now covered in a thick coat of blood and flesh, he took a slow, deep breath.

he observed the scene in front of him, taking in every detail of the guy's limp form. he laid there, in a sticky pool of crimson growing quickly below, crumpled up with his limbs sticking out in directions unattainable without a broken bone. every inch of his skin and body was covered in gashes, from which ruby red liquid flowed like water. a gaping hole sat on the back of his skull, clumpy brain matter spilling from it, leaking out onto the asphalt. his hands, the same disgusting hands that had been used against you, were broken and bleeding, fingernails cracked and broken from his earlier attempt to claw at the ground, away from his assailant.

he was dead, alright. and as the light of the moon casted a ghostly glow onto his battered corpse, namjoon felt a sick sense of pride in his actions. despite this feeling, he still felt weirdly...unfulfilled. like he could do more for you, more to devote himself to you as your guardian angel and dedicated lover. although his entire reason for doing all of this, for the gifts, and for the entire obsession, started because he fell victim to his own curiosity, he had grown an intense adoration for you. the more he learned about you, the harder he fell. so he felt obligated to do more to prove himself, he wanted to do more for you.

pondering what else he could possibly do to further intertwine you and him forever, his mind wondered to the small switchblade in his pocket. he had brought it just in case he needed something a bit more to use on the...thing...that he had dealt with just moments before (spoiler alert: the bat was more than enough).

maybe he could make it useful now. he had heard plenty of fiction plots in which someone carves their lover's name into their skin...why not make it reality? sure, it would hurt like hell, but if you're giving someone a beautiful rose, you're bound to get pricked by its thorns. and the pain of his skin splitting beneath the steel is nothing more than a drop of ink in the ocean of passion namjoon held in his heart.

he didn't think twice before taking the dainty blade from his back pants pocket and rolling up the left sleeve of his long black shirt. the click of the blade filled the silence around him, the shiny metal glinting in the moonlight like a diamond, glittering in the damp, dusky alleyway. taking a deep breath and pressing the cool blade to his clear, unmarked wrist, namjoon didn't have to pray for the courage to press down.

biting back an array of curses and complaints as a thick drop of blood rolled down his wrist, he slowly carved out the lines and swoops of your first initial. combined with the darkness of the sky and his own warm lifeblood staining more and more of his wrist as it flowed freely from his new, red oblation. he didn't care about the pain, or the blood, or the scars it would leave. this is what he wanted, no, what he needed to do.

continuing the excruciating yet addictive action, over and over until he was left with a scarlet mess and beautiful testimony of his affection. with every cut he made into his clean, porcelain skin, he became more and more enslaved to your very being. through his eyes, you were his divinity, and he the humble worshipper, who was fully prepared to do anything in your honor.

anything.