Jimin × BTS oneshots

d͓̽a͓̽y͓̽s͓̽ l͓̽i͓̽k͓̽e͓̽ t͓̽h͓̽i͓̽s͓̽ (g͓̽i͓̽v͓̽e͓̽ u͓̽p͓̽)

days like this (give up)

Authour: chyubs

Retrieved from: Ao3

Words: 1764

Ship: Jimin×Namjoon

Summary:

Namjoon believes that Jimin emits gold light while he emits none.

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It’s on days like this when Namjoon is convinced that Jimin is wholeheartedly an angel.

He thinks this whenever Jimin smiles at him, talks to him, laughs with him, and he gets that feeling, that churning , in his stomach and he can’t help but look at Jimin with rose-coloured lenses because these feelings he has for him turn his brain to complete and utter mush.

Namjoon also thinks that he’s begun to look at the world through rose-coloured lenses as well.

(it’s actually Jimin that is his world.)

It’s on days like this when Namjoon would swear on his life to anyone that golden specks of light surround Jimin wherever he goes because in Namjoon’s mind, Jimin is light. They dance around Jimin and leave a trail of gilded dust wherever he walks, runs, and dances.

(Jimin is his one and only light.)

However, on some days, Namjoon thinks that Jimin burns too bright.

Not in the sense that Jimin’s presence in the world can become too overbearing, or that his warmth isn’t welcomed, because god forbid someone or something plucks him away from Namjoon. But in the sense that Namjoon can’t help but compare himself and wonder to himself if he emits any light like that into the world.

(Namjoon doesn’t think he emits that much, if any at all.)

Today is one of those days.

Namjoon doesn’t really know what happened. He was just lying on the couch in his studio upside down, his mind not producing any new lyrics or records when he found himself staring at the lamp that sat beside his couch.

It was a lamp that was shaped like a tomato.

It was grey and white. Faceless.

It also had legs.

And for some reason, Namjoon stared at it. Really stared at it. On any other day, he would admire the lamp in his studio, but today it felt like when he looked at it, it looked back.

Namjoon stared into the tomato’s faceless face, the greyish light emanating a glow into the room that didn’t feel right or inviting in that moment.

The lamp was doing its job, providing light so people could see what was around it, but its light felt so cold in that moment.

(Namjoon felt like he was staring into a mirror.)

It wasn’t a light people wanted.

Namjoon stares at the light for a long time. The thoughts that run through his head aren’t kind to himself. But one thought in particular is stuck in repetition within his mind.

I don’t emit that kind of light.

Namjoon isn’t sure how long he stays in that position, torturing himself over his thoughts when he hears the door to his studio open. He looks towards the opened door only to see that an upside down Jimin has walked in on him having a staring contest with a tomato.