vớ vẩn

chap 11

Namjoon stays quiet in the passenger seat. The sky is dark and the beautiful, happy, oblivious couple are on their way back to their apartment to finish packing up before they head off to their honeymoon somewhere hot and peaceful. Seokjin is driving with both hands holding the wheel, clenching tightly and nervously. And Namjoon remains quiet.

Thoughts race in his mind and he doesn't know how to quieten them. They vie for his attention but Seokjin tries to ignore them all; he doesn't have an answer for any of the questions swirling around his mind like a snowstorm. What's going to happen? Seokjin wishes he knew. Who's going to die next? He's still working on that one. Did he make the right choice when he stopped Namjoon? Seokjin isn't sure, he'll never be sure.

When he reaches Namjoon's apartment, the younger male finally turns his neck to face Seokjin, and Seokjin stupidly does the same. He swallows, hard.

"Thanks for the lift," Namjoon tells Seokjin, his voice low and quiet.

"Don't worry about it," Seokjin replies.

Namjoon nods and releases himself from the clutches of the seatbelt, and he turns his body to head out of the car, but he stops himself like he's just remembered something that had temporarily left his mind. He turns back around and faces Seokjin again. "Take it easy this weekend," he tells Seokjin. "Look after yourself. If you need me for anything, call me. Okay? I mean it."

Seokjin's throat goes dry. All he manages to do is nod. And that seems to satisfy Namjoon, because he smiles a tiny smile at Seokjin before he heads out of the car. Closes the door behind him and walks to his apartment, and disappears inside it.

He stares at the entrance to Namjoon's apartment complex for a while before his strength comes back to him and he clears his throat, readjusts his mirrors like they need to be readjusted, and he sets off. And when he reaches home he falls face first into his bed and he blacks out.

His Sunday slips through his fingers like a blur. Vague recollections tell him he'd woken up sometime after two in the afternoon, and that the first time he'd eaten that day was a little after the sun had already set. He collapses back into his bed at night, his muscles feeling tired and worn out but at the same time cramped and tight and he doesn't know what he needs to do to stop feeling this way. He shuffles around until he's lying on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling, and now he can barely feel anything. His arms and legs feel like they don't belong to him. His heart feels like it's pumping through heavy, murky waters.

He shifts onto his side, tired eyes latching onto his phone besides his pillow. He wants to do something, he wants to grab his phone and do something, but all the suggestions that are cropping up in his mind are being deflected because sure, he wants to do something, but that isn't the right thing. He huffs, exasperated. What he wants to do is call Namjoon, ask him to come to him so that he could curl up into a ball and tuck himself tightly against Namjoon. He wants to build a cocoon around himself and let Namjoon take care of him. He wants to be protected.

It's too hard to push those thoughts away. There's a little voice in his mind that's telling him no, Seokjin, you've got it all wrong, you're the one that has to protect him, and usually that voice of his would be louder, stronger, would govern all other thoughts in his mind, but right now it's small and quiet and it's trembling in the corner of his mind. Seokjin hates it. Seokjin really, really hates it.

So he gives up. He lets a sigh whistle past his lips and he stops trying to rekindle the fire in his heart. For just tonight, he'll give up and let the murky, heavy waters fill up his mind and let it run rampant. It's far too difficult to fight back right now and he's completely alone, so the only person he's letting down right now is himself.