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13 ↝ men ain't shit, sweetheart

she was onto her second bag of doritos, entertaining not a single intention of stopping. her knees were tucked up to her chest like a child. her entire attire consisted of sweatpants and a too-big hoodie, the kind of comfort-wear one would save for a cosy, rainy day—or a plain shitty one.

namjoon was seated on the opposite end of the couch, watching on with a look of amused concern, sipping at a beer from the six-pack she had appeared on his front doorstep with—alongside those two dorito bags, a bucket of sour gummy worms, and a bag of fried chicken.

"he broke up with me, the motherfucker," she'd announced upon namjoon opening the door, and there was nothing he could do to stop her from barrelling into his living room, which was precisely where she had been settled for the past two hours. she'd already mowed her way through the fried chicken, but at least namjoon had helped out with that.

"you're going to make yourself sick," cautioned namjoon, nudging her thigh with his foot. she made a point of shoving more doritos in her mouth.

"I'm already sick with heartbreak, so I'm good. give me some of that," she asked, reaching for his beer, and he passed it over without any hesitation. there was no point in questioning her while she was in this state—unless he was particularly feeling like having his fingers chopped off one-by-one.

she tipped the beer past her lips until she emptied the bottle. it had been half full. namjoon, shaking his head, went to grab himself another from the fridge.

"want one?" he asked from the kitchen.

"nah."

his eyes narrowed on the now empty beer bottle placed upon the coffee table, yet he called out, "alright then," and snapped only one out of the cardboard carton.

but he was caught by complete surprise when she unexpectedly, and very timidly voiced: "he said I wasn't sexy."

namjoon paused in positioning the bottle opener around the beer cap. she hadn't turned to face where he stood at the kitchen counter; her eyes were still on the muted television, only the crown of her head peeking over the couch. he sighed and popped the cap off the bottle, the sounds too loud in the sudden quiet.

"as an excuse for breaking up with you?"

"that, and how I'm too emotional, or whatever." there was the rustling of the doritos bag, followed by some furious munching. her voice was muffled by the cheesy chips. "y'know, if I wanted to feel sexy, I would wear lace. but it's uncomfortable. sexy is uncomfortable. why couldn't he just—get that?"

namjoon rounded the couch on the end that she was curled up into. a frown marred her darling features and there was a shine to her eyes, reflected in the blue light of the television screen. she shot her gaze up to him, and namjoon pretended he didn't notice the wetness of her eyelashes as he crouched down beside her.

"___, don't listen to him, he's an asshole." he proffered the beer, though her hands remained clutched around the doritos bag, her eyes trained intently on his own. namjoon grinned, and while he knew it would make his words sound teasing, he wholeheartedly meant them when he said, "besides, he's completely wrong. nobody makes sweatpants look as sexy as you do."

the bag crinkled as her fingers slightly tightened their grip, and namjoon's eyes flicked down to them just as she proceeded to snatch the bottle from him. it was all too quick, as if he had struck her utterly flustered. she took a deep gulp of beer and namjoon, perplexed, watched on as she wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve.

then she smiled for the first time that night, the sun-beam kind, and all was right in the world.

"damn right I do."