bts oneshots ✓ [completed]

✔Distance (I) | Namjoon

(Not Idol Namjoon)

  warning; sensitive topics included.
  

    You'd never thought that a long-distance relationship would work.

   Neither had Kim Namjoon.

  You, of course had your fair share of insecurities surrounding having a relationship through electronics. You were rendered to Skype calls during your lunch break and when you got home from your part-time job at a cafe, texting, and phone calls. 

  You loved Namjoon. You really did. 

  But it wasn't enough. 

  "Mom?" You call into your mother's house, shutting her solid wooden door behind you. Her house was filled with heirlooms, paintings, even photographs from when your family lived in South Korea. But, your father had gotten work opportunities in America, so you were forced to move when you were much younger. 

 Forced to move away from your best friend at the time, Kim Namjoon. 

 And, due to your family never quite having that kind of money, you didn't move back. Even after your father passed away in a car accident last year.

 When you turned eighteen, and moved out of your mother's house, you made a life for yourself. 

 Including certain electronic devices, and social medias. 

  It didn't take very long for Kim Namjoon to find you. 

 Slowly, the two of you rebuilt the nearly-unbreakable friendship that you had. From then on, it blossomed into something more.  

  "Hello, sweetie." Your mother greets you happily, holding out her left arm for a introductory sidehug. You gladly return the hug, shifting your cellphone to your other hand, so that you could hug her properly. Ever since you and Namjoon rekindled, you kept your phone, charged, on you at all times. 

  "How are you today?" You ask, looking past her. She had multiple foriegn ingredients set out across the countertop, all boiling in a heavy pot of water. You had absolutely no idea what she was making, but it looked delicious nonetheless.

  "Oh, I'm just fine. And you?" She asks, pulling away from the lighthearted hug. Once she turns her back to you, looking at the ingredients she had placed all across the countertop, you pull out your phone. 

  One new message from Namjoon:

  'Hello love. How was your day?' 

Your heart flutters. He always asked how your day was, the minute you got home from the cafe. Even though his time zone was completely different, he'd taken the time to have memorized your schedules and time zone, so he could talk to you every night.

 "It was good." You answer your mother, dismissing the message reluctantly and tucking the phone into the back pocket of your jeans. She was staring at you, however long; you don't know. She looked upset, in a way. 

  "Are you still with that boy Namjoon?" She asks softly, setting down her wooden spoon and leaning against the countertop. You sigh, pressing your spine against the doorframe. Your shoulderblades curled around the wood softly as you reached back and settled your hands into your pockets. 

  "Yeah. But I'm not sure it'll last." You admit gently, staring at a certain scuff mark on the toe of your shoe, which had became suddenly immensely intriguing. 

  "Why is that, sweetheart?" Your mother's voice takes on the worried-momma-bear tone. 

  "He's in South Korea. And I work at a failing cafe, and live in a run-down apartment on the worst side of Manhattan. I can't exactly afford to see Namjoon." You blurt, covering your mouth with your hand immediately after you'd said it. You swallow thickly, your free hand reaching up to curl at the base of your sternum, as if to diminish the pain that the truth of your and Namjoon's relationship status brought you.

  Your mother remained quiet, and still. 

  Then, she pushes herself off of the countertop, walking over to the sitting room. You follow her with a curious gaze, watching her walk towards the mantle in the vacant sitting room. She kneels, reaching between the old run-down sofa and fireplace, pulling out a wooden box. It didn't look necessarily old, but not exactly just-bought-yesterday new, either. 

  She lifts off the wooden lid, the box to deep for you to see what she was pulling out. 

  Her arm lifts, revealing a thick wad of cash. Your breath hitches in your throat. 

  Is my mother a bankrobber? 

 Drug dealer? 

Has she had that kind of money all along? 

"I was saving this for something special. But I think this is something far more important." Your mother says, holding the cash out towards you. You just remain still, staring at the cash as if it was the entire algorithm for time and space. 

  "Wait, but you--this--this is for something important, I can't possibly--" You begin to deny the offer. As much as you wanted to go home, and see Namjoon, the money wasn't yours to spend. Your mother was barely making it off her retirement funds. She needs this kind of money. 

  "(Y/n). I would much rather be living the life I have been living without extravagant things, than see you trudge through each day like it's a chore." Your mother says softly, rubbing her thumb over your cheek softly. You lean into her touch, your eyes already beginning to well up with happy tears. 

 You weren't exactly one for sappy stories with cheesy endings. 

 But if Kim Namjoon was the cheesy ending to your sappy story, you'd be more than willing to read all the way to the epilogue.

   

♡♡♡