Pretend To Be Mine | Namjin FF ✓

mine to keep

Namjoon:

I should've warned Seokjin never to bring up my parents in our conversations. But I hesitate. Doing so might arouse suspicion in him, and I can't afford that.

I can't let him know that I'm a mafia boss, that I kill people, that I'm seeking revenge.

Every mention of my parents transports me back several years to that dreadful night-the biggest nightmare of my life that left me shattered.

It was the darkest night, with blood everywhere, the screams of my sister, the begging of my father. I hate myself for being too weak to stop it, to prevent any of it from happening.

I see red now. I want him dead, and I will do it as soon as I find him. He can hide all he wants, but he will meet his end by my hands. I just need to track him down.

And I have to protect Seokjin. He's the only person who matters to me after my parents and my sister.

No, I don't love him, but as I told him, he's so innocent, and he belongs to me, so I must protect him.

I clench my fists so tightly that my fingers dig into my palms. I squeeze my eyes shut. I'm currently in the library, standing next to the wide window.

I'm troubled. It's going to be another sleepless night, one of many to come.

I let out a soft breath as I felt a pair of arms wrap around my torso and the softest cheeks press against my back.

"I'm sorry," Seokjin mumbled, and my heart melted. It fucking melted like ice.

How could I not adore him? He's the perfect being to ever exist.

"Please don't be mad at me," he pleaded, his voice trembling as if he might burst into tears if I remained silent for another second.

"Can I ever be mad at you, darling?" I asked softly, and he pressed his face further into my back.

I turned around, but he didn't look up. Instead, his face was buried in my chest.

"I will never be mad at you, mi vida," I assured him. It's true, I don't love him or anything, but he has that effect on me. I can never be mad at him. Hell, I won't even raise my voice at him.

He's made to be fucking worshipped, and I will do just that.

If anyone from my people had brought up my parents in a conversation, they would have been dead by now.

Call me a hypocrite, weak, or whatever. I just don't want to remember my family. It makes me loathe myself for being such a weakling back then.

"I will never talk about your family again," he promised, looking up at me. His eyes were to die for-soft, teary, with a slight red rim. Perfect. Heavenly.

"It's alright, darling. It wasn't because you talked about my parents; it was just something else," I assured him, smiling and wiping his eyes to keep the tears from escaping.

He blinked at me, and I dipped my head to kiss both of his eyes.

"Are you telling the truth?" he asked. For once, I wanted to tell him everything-every single thing that happened to me and made me who I am today.

For a moment, I wanted to tell him to go away from me. I'm not a good person. I kill people for revenge. But I didn't say any of those things.

I can't tell him all this; he'll leave me, and I can't afford that. He has a calming effect on me, and I want him by my side.

"Yes, baby," I said, cupping his plush cheeks in my rough hands.

"You left the food midway," he said with a pout, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he didn't delve further.