EATJIN! | KSJ & PJM

- don't leave me -

It took Seokjin a solid ten minutes to figure out what the hell just happened. 

His ears grew hotter than a pot of boiling water, and his eyebrows furrowed harshly. Without thinking, or trying to calm himself down, Seokjin banged on Namjoon's locked door, regardless of how much it made his fist ache. He was considering kicking it down, when a stone cold Namjoon finally opened the door.

"What the fuck was that?" Seokjin sputtered, red in the face. Namjoon shuffled his feet nervously. He only does that when he's happy, Seokjin noticed. How could he be happy right now?

"I don't wanna talk about it right now," He muttered. The childish behavior just made Seokjin even angrier.

"You don't get a choice, Namjoon!" Seokjin yelled, unintentionally raising his voice at the younger boy. "You can't shut me out like that!"

Seokjin was fuming, at that point. His ears burned, and there was a lump present in his throat, making it hard to breathe without choking up a little. "Goddamn!" He said, out of frustration. He ran his hand through his hair, ruining the gentle way it fell over his forehead. Namjoon's eyes stung a little, and slowly, he walked out of his room.

He took a deep breath, and stared down at his feet. Seokjin could've sworn he saw a dimple. 

Namjoon didn't know what to feel. His heart felt shattered, but the shattered pieces were fluttering a little. 

"Seokjin, I-"

"Go on," He huffed impatiently.

"I'm going-"

"Going...?" Seokjin asked, eyebrows raised. 

"-Seokjin!" Namjoon burst out. "Shut up for a hot minute, won't you?" 

The chef was about to say something, but he pressed his lips into a tight line and looked at his feet for a brief moment. 

"My company wants to transfer me to the U.S. to produce songs for bigger artists," Namjoon said. It was a simple sentence, unusual for a man of many words like Namjoon. However, it had two times the effect on Seokjin. He felt a heavy weight drop in his chest, like the ball that dropped during the New Year's countdown. 

He was happy for Namjoon.

But, part of him felt like screaming.

"And you're going?" Seokjin said, voice brittle. His eyebrows were raised at a dangerous angle, resembling the angle of a hunter's spear aimed at its prey. Namjoon's eyes flitted in a panicked fashion. "You're going, right?"

"I.." He started, then moistened his lips in a quick movement. "I want to go," He said, finally. But he was just as unsure as Seokjin was. "You could come with me."

Seokjin stepped backwards. "That's not happening," He said, hands up defensively. Too much depended on him in South Korea. His fans, his restaurant, hell, even the economy depended on him. With Seokjin gone, South Korea would crash and burn. 

It wasn't even an understatement. 

What job would Seokjin have in America, if he moved? He couldn't speak English, and he'd have to restart his entire career again, in a different lexicon.

Then Seokjin's mind wandered off to the people he'd leave behind. Jungkook and his poor attempts at noodles. The apprentice still hadn't learned how to make a proper dish (excluding making toast, that is) without burning/utterly destroying it. He'd have to leave behind the way Jungkook looked at him in awe whenever he was tasked with the job of fixing one of the apprentice's failed dishes. 

He might never be able to see him rise as a chef; nor give him the position at the restaurant that Jungkook was training for.

And then his mind pictured Jimin, walking home through that wretched alleyway, and getting pulled to the side by the two thugs again.

Hoseok pushed Jimin's shoulder, sending the small boy stumbling back. This earned a sick smirk from the other boy, Yoongi. The girl atop the fire escape simply watched, as Jimin was kicked around.

The scene he pictured sent a chill down his spine.  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to burn the image from his mind. 

"It's not?" Namjoon asked, hurt creeping into his voice. He hadn't been expecting an answer like that. 

"I can't do that," Seokjin replied, softly. "You know I can't!"

Namjoon stepped away, like a kicked puppy. "I don't want to leave you," He said.

Seokjin sighed, beginning to get a little irritated. He wasn't sure whether it was Namjoon or himself who was irritating him. Maybe even both. The choice was a crucial one, really, and had no real perfect outcome.

It was Namjoon's lifelong dream, or him.

When it really came down to it, would he really choose Seokjin over his dream? 

Maybe earlier on, before they both started to get swept away in their careers. Before loving each other became routine, not religion.

Maybe.

Park stretched out on the pillow Jimin had placed under the kitten, and she let out a soft meow. Jimin, however, had still been sleeping. He didn't want to leave Park alone in the living room, so he slept on the couch closest to the cat. 

Park looked better, now that she was well fed and rested. Her ears perked up, and she looked more alert that she did last night; fur in a wild pattern across her skin. 

"Meow?" Park meowed, stalking towards Jimin. She jumped up onto the couch elegantly, and started walking on the poor boy's torso. Jimin groaned, about to get up, but then realized he would toss Park aside in the process, so he settled for his current position, although the way he had to move his neck to keep an eye on Park was quite uncomfortable.

"Park," Jimin said, reaching out for the cat. His voice was dull and rough in the mornings, though he doubted Park minded. "You can't just walk on me like that."

"Meow," Park responded, almost like an apology. She didn't sound quite sincere, though.  Jimin picked up Park, and brought the cat close to his chest, allowing himself to get up. Looking at Park, he felt like he had been forgetting something. 

What had he done last night, exactly?

Asides from Park, the night had been a distant memory. 

"Seokjin!" Jimin burst out, causing Park to jump in his arms. He'd forgotten leaving Seokjin mid-call, and suddenly his cheeks reddened. The famous chef had practically given the high school student his number,  offered to keep him company, and Jimin had left him in the middle of the call. "Oh, no."

"Meooow," Park meowed, which probably meant: 'Suck it up, loser.'

Jimin simply gave Park a look, and shook his head. For some reason, Park's forwardness was comforting, even if they didn't speak the same language. He understood, vaguely.

I'll call him later, Jimin thought. He's probably busy right now, anyways.

It would have been nice to have Jimin interrupt the situation Seokjin was in. His heart pounded painfully, and the lump in his throat had only gotten bigger. 

Call me, Jimin. Call me. Seokjin pleaded.

---

a/n: really tryna keep things consistent but school is really tryna kill me-

time to multitask wOO

-ri