Jimin scrambled back in fear, the bedsheets tangling around his wrists. "What have I done to deserve this, Namjoon? I thought you loved me!"
"I do," he choked through tears. "And that's exactly why you have to die."
...
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~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Namjoon's hands shook around the teacup that he was tightly holding. He was in Taehyung's room, a day later, trying to calm down. The man had approached him earlier and invited over for tea. With the type of day that Namjoon was having, he couldn't refuse. And yet somehow, his nerves weren't feeling any less knotted.
"Are you really sure though?" Taehyung asked once more, pouring himself hot water from the kettle and taking a seat across from his boss. "Like, really certain?"
"Certain?" Namjoon repeated off-handedly, still focusing on getting his fingers to stop trembling around the delicate china.
"Yeah," Taehyung said, looking troubled. "I mean, just because they kissed once in private doesn't really mean anything... maybe?"
Namjoon groaned, not wanting to be reminded of what Taehyung had told him earlier. Hoseok's dream and his sleep talking... he shuddered.
"And," he continued, not stopping for Namjoon's sweat-beaded forehead, "well, so what if they were in bed together? That doesn't mean anything happened."
Namjoon couldn't help a rude laugh. "Oh yeah, of course. You ever just feel like hanging out with your best friend's husband and making out in bed as a casual social grace? Tae, I'm not a complete moron. What do you mean 'it doesn't mean anything'?! If that's what happened..." he swallowed, a melancholy air taking him. "Maybe I'm the one who doesn't mean anything."
A pearly tear slipped down Namjoon's cheek and into his chamomile. Plink. He gripped the cup tighter, still not bringing it to his lips.
Taehyung sighed lightly, tapping the table with long, elegant nails. "Listen, if I gave Jungkook a handkerchief as a gift, it's his. I don't care what he does with it anymore. He can give it to whoever he wants."
"Well, Jimin certainly knows about giving things away to other men. His virtue, for instance." Namjoon gave a cold snort, trying to let anger patch up the deep wound in his heart. A cheap tactic, but relatively effective.
"Joon, it's just a handkerchief-"
"Stop saying the word handkerchief!" Namjoon snapped, putting his hands over his ears. "I'm so, so tired..." He trailed off.
He felt... lost. And alone. Jimin had been his anchor for so long that now it felt like he was drifting at sea, grasping for anything he could hold onto before the overwhelming currents ripped him away from everything he'd ever counted on.
Namjoon used to count on a lot of things. He counted on the Earth to keep spinning on its axis, he counted on Hoseok to support him through everything, he counted on Jimin to love him through thick and thin. So far only the Earth hadn't failed him, but who knew how long it would take to cut loose of its orbit and hurtle into an infinite, cold abyss.
Never to feel the warmth of the sun on its face again.
"Oh, God..." Namjoon whispered. His eyes were wide and wet once more as he stared into his tea. "Jiminie."
