BTS Imagines

Rap Monster - "Stay away."

«fluff?? soft angst?»

You and Namjoon had been friends since middle school. He was extremely smart but unfortunately lacking in social life, and his haircut didn't exactly help with that. He was rarely approached unless it was for math questions or English answers — you pitied him for that. After deciding to befriend him in the second year of middle school, you stuck with him all the way through high school graduation. He was kind and funny, and your friendship was strong. At the end of senior year, you even managed to get him to cut his hair and wear clothes that weren't so baggy; he had become tall and handsome, but his new, intimidating look didn't put you off. He was still the same dork as before.

At first, he was painfully awkward. Everything he said was a roundabout attempt at humor which made your friends question your choice to be friends with him. You didn't mind. When he mentioned a Japanese book author or an American TV show, you went home and researched it on the family computer. When he said something complicated about "ripples in another world being like fireworks in ours," you mulled it over until thought you understood. By the third year of high school, the two of you may as well have been in your own world.

He always achieved the highest scores in the school yet somehow found room for hobbies. You, with low As that you desperately tried to maintain above the B line, barely had time for anything. Anything other than Namjoon and school that is. For almost five years you two were inseparable. And you were happy.

One day as you sat on the park swings, sweating under that brilliant orange sky, he interrupted the droning of the cicadas to make a pact.

"Hey." A droplet of sweat cascaded down the expanse of his neck. "Graduation is coming up."

"Mhm."

"...I'm not going to university."

Your swing squeaked as you slowed down.

"We've got wings, y'know. We just have to take the opportunity to open them and learn to fly." His eyes were fixed hard on a V of birds flying overhead, but he was looking past them, seeing something more. It wasn't uncommon for him to do that. His gaze lowered and rested on your face, tan and glazed from the summer heat. A deep breath escaped him.

"I'm going to Sydney for some time. After that..." he hesitated, "...will you fly with me?"

Of course you'd said yes. Sure you were sad he'd be leaving for a while, but this was a step toward "opening his wings;" you couldn't deny him that. In one month he was gone, and for two years you felt so painfully lonely.

In January, two years later, you received a phone call from his mom. He'd just arrived the night before. Excitedly, you texted him. He couldn't keep in touch a lot while in Australia because of roaming charges or whatever, and though it disappointed you, you dealt with it. So when you texted him for the first time in six months to welcome him home, you were a bit more than miffed why he didn't reply.

Must be the jet lag, you reasoned, so you let it slide. Three days later he replied saying he was "tired" and needed time to "re-accustom himself with Korea." What a load of bull. But "whatever," you stubbornly huffed, "if he doesn't want to talk to me then fine."

And just like that another year passed with minimal communication (most of it was on your side anyway).

The cold stung like hell. Your ears were red, and you tried to shield your nose with your scarf. Gloved fists shook in your pockets. Frost crunched beneath your boots. "Why take the bus," they said, "it's such a short walk," they said. As you griped and groaned, you raised your head and noticed a swing set covered in snow.

"After that... will you fly with me?"

Your eyes softened and nostalgia bloomed painfully in your heart. Fingers grazed over the snow making it stick to your gloves like powdered sugar. Your sigh came out in wisps. As you turned, suddenly swamped by hurtful feelings, your shoulder knocked into someone, and you were nearly sent to the ground.