UGH! / SOPE & VMIN.

SEVENTEEN, SMILE ON, SAY YOU'RE OKAY.

SMILE ON, SAY
YOU'RE OKAY.

     THE SOUND OF buzzing tattoo needles is a comforting one for namjoon, accompanying the rhythms of loud ska music that sehun likes to play ( much to namjoon's annoyance ). he finishes up a flower mandala tattoo on the ankle of a blonde girl who looks almost school age — god, kids are growing up so fast right now.

"there you go. give your money to kean at the till, and take this," he passes her a tube of rubbing alcohol cream for the tattoo. "apply it once everyday when you wake up. any redness or what you think could be an infection, call us, alright?"

she smiles, giggles ( weird ), and leaves with a thank you, leaving namjoon alone in the studio. he sighs and wipes the sweat off his brow, removing the sterile rubber gloves and dumping them in the bin before going to clean off his needles. he bobs his head to the tune that starts playing, an actual good song ( thanks sehun ), a blockheads track that has a good bass to it and a banging set of lyrics. he hums along to hit, heading into what they call a "break room" ( essentially, just a small room with a microwave and a stove where they can have coffee, tea and biscuits ).

namjoon sits down on the dubiously-clean couch, leafing through his copy of the shining to find his spot. he's always loved stephen king — met him once, in a korean shop in boston —, and owns all of his books so far, battered and dog-eared. the shining or carrie have to be his favourites, though, and maybe it if he had to pick a third one.

"joon, mate, pop the kettle on would ya?" sehun calls from where he's tattooing a client, making namjoon roll his eyes. he lights the shitty, gas leaking stove and fills the kettle, finding the teabags in their mess of a cupboard. the door at the front dings, and namjoon hears kean greet them with a 'appointment or walk-in?'. he hopes that there's another artist available; he really wants to just pack up and go home to his dog and his flatmate.

"oi, nam-yankee-doodle!"

well, there goes that fucking idea.

namjoon sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets as he slouches over to the till, surprised to see someone semi-familiar — mr park jimin, infamous for fucking you and not returning your calls, despite the answerphone messages you leave. he's greasy-haired, and not as immaculate and godly as he is in namjoon's scintillating memories of whatever their time together was.

"bloke's a walk-in." kean says, chainsmoking worse than a forty year old wine addicted mum. namjoon nods and tries throwing a smile at jimin, who returns it weakly, barely reaching his eyes. he looks worse for wear, namjoon thinks.

"yeah, uhm, i've got a design," he fumbles in the pockets of his huge army jacket, pulling out what looks like a ripped sketchbook page. "here."

"c'mon." namjoon nicks one of kean's cigarettes and leads jimin to one of the rooms, which are all dark and smelling slightly of mold ( look, the place is fucking old and run down, alright ). jimin settles on the leather chair, this setting familiar to him, pulling his buzzcocks shirt up over his head.

"i want it here." he taps the left side of his torso, on his ribs. namjoon grimaces — that's a painful one —, before returning to tracing the design. it's obviously drawn by jimin; it's a snake, curled in and over itself, with big, dark eyes. interesting. namjoon sterilises his equipment and careful applies the now wet paper to jimin's bare skin, rubbing it softly with his fingers so his design will attach to the area. he spots lovebites littered on jimin's milky tea-like skin, especially on his collarbones, dark bruises. jimin sees him looking and looks away bashfully, the tops of his cheeks turning primrose.

"alright, this is gonna hurt, brace yourself." namjoon decides not to pay attention to the fact that he was definitely just a quick fuck to jimin. he guesses that's just how jimin is; maybe he shouldn't take it personally.

jimin clenches his teeth when the buzzing needle makes contact with his skin, like he's being burned almost, his nails digging into the leather of the seat, and he hisses slightly through his teeth. "told you," namjoon says softly, causing jimin to huff.

the artist limits his thoughts to the tattoo and only the tattoo, not the fact that some scrawny, long legged kid in high heels and lipstick had come in a few hours ago, asking for namjoon — "y'know, the yank, with the hair?" —, who he'd asked for jimin's number cause he heard from someone that he'd been leaving jimin messages, which was true enough. the kid looked smitten, absolutely infatuated, and namjoon almost wanted to be an asshole and laugh in his face, cause he's learnt that being infatuated with jimin won't do you nothing good. but he gave him the number, wrote it on his arm and the kid had smiled this goofy, rectangular grin, before practically skipping out.

no, namjoon's not thinking about that. just thinking about the tattoo.

"how you been?" he asks casually, eyes never leaving the design. jimin breathes out harshly, still strained from the pain.

"'ve been better. just a lot of confusin' things goin' on, you know? 'nd... yeah, i dunno. head's a bit of a mess since the menswear gig."

namjoon's heard all about this gig that happened two days ago now. he wasn't there, which is ironic, seeing as he provided the sound equipment for the band, but he'd been so tired he'd collapsed into his couch and slept for eleven straight hours, completely ignoring the partying queers a few places down the road. he doesn't regret it; it was the best sleep he's had in weeks.

"bit too much skunk?" namjoon asks jimin with a smirk. the raven haired boy scoffs, trying his hardest not to move the skin that namjoon's tattooing.

"summin' like that, yeah. mind's a bit scrambled, you know what i mean — just not all there right now, i reckon..." jimin trails off, biting his plum and peachy bottom lip, eyes somewhere else. namjoon supposes he shouldn't probe no more; maybe jimin's having personal problems he doesn't wanna spill out to a stranger whose head's been between his thighs. whatever suits him. namjoon won't pry.

the tattoo is finished without much more conversation, jimin thanking him — "it's beautiful. so beautiful. thank you" — and paying, and namjoon decides to take the rest of the day off, because he's tired and fuck, does he need a justification?

he takes off with his stephen king, stopping at the chicken 'n chips shop for takeaway, and then bang, crash, wallop! he falls into the couch in his cosy little apartment and sighs, switching on the tv just for background noise, and of course, mtv are playing tainted love for the 500th time this week ( it's a banger, though, namjoon can't deny that ).

he's tired, both physically and mentally. namjoon can't lie, he misses the states, misses his hometown of the bronx, misses going to protests with his friends to yell, misses hip-hop and disco nightclubs that he'd go to with winston — fuck, winston. namjoon's head tilts towards the huge run dmc poster winston had stolen for him from outside the venue they snuck into to scream the lyrics to their protest anthems, to the songs tattooed into their veins.

that kid was something else — well, kid, they both were kids back in nyc. a teardrop manifests itself in namjoon's eye when he remembers winston's toothy grin and his dumb loud laugh and his dreadlocks he'd been so proud of growing out, and his lips like sweet slices of peaches—

and namjoon remembers the day winston just couldn't run and protest anymore, remembers how they had to run until their soles hurt because they'd been protesting with the more radical members of the black panther party and the police had come, with riot shields and very real guns. he remembers winston's voice, "c'mon, down here, run joon!", remembers the dark alleyway, remembers how they didn't even know there was a cop behind them.

remembers seeing the bullet enter winston's sternum.

remembers holding him in his arms and crying because nothing could be done.

remembers kissing him one last goodbye.

namjoon's eyes fill with unstoppable tears, and he can't stop.

━━

written – 070719

AUTHOR'S NOTE
this is LATEEEE but im stopped at a café on my way back from holiday and i remembered this suddenly so enjoy!!

do u like namjoon's character?? did u enjoy his backstory???

— love, jace