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Leave it.
Yoongi's got to be kidding.
Kim Namjoon can still feel the weight of crumbled paper in the palm of his hand. He had missed the trash can when he threw it, but the statement was clear either way.
Another verse dismissed. Another line crossed out. Another hour wasted.
The kettle roars to life as Namjoon places the noodles in the pot on the stove. It's not that he has time for a break, nor that he deserves to eat, but apparently, a brain not properly fed at least every 24 hours or so is of no fucking use either - a friendly reminder.
At least Seokjin called it that.
But friendly is the last thing Namjoon feels right now. Especially because he knows Yoongi wasn't joking, and even worse: wasn't wrong either. It's the blank page he should be fighting, not the first draft. Shuffling sand into a box and all that. Building castles comes later. A week later.
He tries to hold onto that. Jimin looked positively stressed leaning in his door way and it's one thing for Namjoon to get fucked up about this, it's another when it starts effecting Park Jimin.
So. A week. And then Yoongi will be back. A returnee from the chosen exile of his own apartment. One more week and it'll be fine. Fragments will be fine, this broken mess of sharp edges and punchlines missing the point will be fine.
Because in a joined effort, everything they touch turns to gold.
It's just the way it is. Eleven years of success attest to it.
Except it's not about that. Not really. Not this time.
As the water boils, Namjoon pours whatever was left in the kettle over his ramyun. He doesn't care for the recipe much; he trusts the cheap seasoning and this god-awful fat pack to turn it into something edible, and it's not like he's sure he can keep any of it down anyway.
Because his stomach aches with stress already. There's a problem brewing into a storm somewhere, and Namjoon can't seem to locate it, can't put his damn finger on it. As a result he's not just lacking creative energy, he's lacking sleep as well. Five consecutive hours would qualify as cause for celebrations by now.
But how to fucking sleep, if every time he closes his eyes, his mind goes where he thinks danger could hide. Taehyung on set, Yoongi retreating to his own space, Seokjin getting freaky on cloud nine.
He even bothered their main choreographer about the Timbaland performance at fucking 3 am.
It's a fucking disgrace he even got an answer, but when he did, nothing but praises were to be gained from Sungdeuk.
