Stolen (Kim Namjoon/RM X Reader)

Safe

Joon and I walked back down the bustling, loud street toward the bus station, silent, shoulder to shoulder, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

We reached the city's square, where it was even busier if possible, and stopped on the edge, watching the people rush by us and go on with their busy lives. Joon leaned over and said in my ear, loudly, over the noise of the crowded street, "Are you okay?"

His question made the back of my throat tickle and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. No. Hold it together. I swallowed the thickness in my throat and glanced over at him, nodding slightly as I forced my lips back across my teeth in a fake smile and then said, "Yeah, I'm fine." I glanced around us, at the shops lining either side of the street, and I suddenly got the urge to do something unexpected. I leaned over to Joon, just as he had done moments before, and asked, "Hey, does Chin-Hae still own a tattoo shop around here?"

Joon lifted an eyebrow at me, as if questioning why I was asking, and then motioned to the Korean symbols running down his right forearm, as he answered my question. "Yeah, it's a few streets over. He's done all of my work. Why do you ask?"

I shook my head and grabbed his hand in mine, motioning for him to lead the way. "Let's get out of this crowd."

Joon studied me for another brief moment, curiosity lighting up his features, and then shrugged slightly, tightening his grip on my hand as he pulled me through the town square, dodging people as we walked quickly, headed toward another side street. When we were out of the bustle of the main part of Ilsan, Joon glanced at me over his shoulder and asked, his volume normal again now that it was quieter, "So. You gonna tell me why we're going to see Chin-Hae?"

I bit my lip. "I need a distraction. I want to do something I normally wouldn't do. Something spur of the moment, something that normal (F/N) would balk at. And a tattoo seems right up that alley."

We stopped in front of a small shop, the front windows dusty and full of taped up ads and flyers, and I glanced up to the sign above the door, the name of the establishment painted in chipped white letters.

Lee Tattoo and Ink.

I took in a deep breath, released my grip on Joon's hand, and pushed in through the door and into the small shop, a tiny brass bell signaling our arrival at the opening of the front entrance.

Inside the shop, there was a front desk, covered in piles of disorganized paperwork, and beyond that, a few privacy partitions were set up, breaking up the back room into smaller rooms where the tattoo artists could work. The front waiting area held a few old, rickety chairs that looked like they had been collected from dumpsters.

I shot Joon a doubting glance, and he grinned at me, before saying quietly, "I know it doesn't look like much. But Chin-Hae does great work."

As if speaking his name aloud had summoned the man himself, we heard rustling coming from behind one of the partitions and then a larger man emerged from the back, carrying a stack of papers and a few books in his arms as he worked his way to the front desk. He caught sight of us as he walked and called out cheerfully, his voice unusually loud in the quiet of the studio, "Ah, I'll be right with you!"

He dropped the pile of odds and ends that he was carrying onto a chair and then ran a hand through his long, disheveled hair, before he pushed his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose and, planting his large hands on the front desk, finally looked up at us. His eyes immediately widened in surprise as he saw us, and then he laughed, an overwhelming rumble that filled the room, before he yelled out, "No way! Kim Namjoon! What are you doing back in this neck of the woods?"