Worst Behavior | KNJ

Chapter 4: Jamais Vu

I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing. For a second, I thought it was the alarm I'd set for work—another reminder that the day never stopped. But when I reached over and squinted at the screen, it was a message. Diavian.

"Can we talk later?"

I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the haze of sleep. My glasses were on the nightstand, right where I'd left them the night before. I grabbed them, sliding the familiar frames over my ears. The world sharpened into focus, but the pit in my stomach grew heavier.

I hadn't heard from her in a few days—not since she found out more about Samuel's operation and what it meant for her dad. She was pissed, but that wasn't anything new. Diavian had always been quick to anger when it came to him, always trying to protect him when he didn't want to be protected. I knew she hated what I was doing with Samuel, but lately, I started to wonder if she hated me for it too.

I threw my feet over the side of the bed, my toes brushing against the cold floor. The early morning light was just starting to creep in through the blinds, casting soft lines across the room. Everything felt quiet—too quiet. Diavian's message hung in the air, heavy with unspoken tension.

"Can we talk later?"

She wasn't the type to send texts like that unless something was up. I tried to shake off the uneasy feeling gnawing at me, but it stuck like glue.

Namjoon, you knew this was coming.

I stood up and ran a hand through my hair, letting out a deep breath. I could feel the weight of the day settling onto my shoulders already.

I knew I couldn't ignore Diavian's message. Not this time.

The sound of the city was faint outside the window, muffled by the early hour. I shuffled over to my closet, pulling out a worn t-shirt and jeans. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror on the back of the door—dark circles under my eyes, the edges of my hair sticking up in odd directions, glasses slightly askew. I looked like I hadn't slept properly in weeks, which wasn't far from the truth.

As I pulled my shirt over my head, I tried to focus on what she might want to talk about. We'd been avoiding certain conversations for too long, letting things fester between us like a wound we were too afraid to clean. She had to know I wasn't going to leave Samuel's gang—she wasn't naive. But maybe she thought I would eventually get tired of it. Maybe she thought I'd change for her.

That's not fair, I thought, tugging the hem of my shirt down. Diavian never asked me to change outright, but I could feel it. I could see it in her eyes, the way she looked at me sometimes when she thought I wasn't paying attention—like she was disappointed. Like I was disappointing her.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her message again. The small space between her words felt enormous. I hesitated for a second, my thumb hovering over the keyboard before I typed a quick response:

"Of course. Just let me know when."

I sent it before I could think twice. My phone screen dimmed and went black, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I ran a hand over my face, trying to push away the weight pressing down on me. But it was impossible.

I was in too deep with Samuel, and Diavian was too smart not to realize that. She'd been trying to save me for years, but I didn't want to be saved. Not from this. The truth was, I liked the lifestyle Samuel's crew gave me—the money, the freedom, the way it made me feel in control when everything else felt like it was slipping away. And I wasn't ready to walk away.