Anything & Everything || SHORT STORY COLLECTION

The Fighter || Namjoon/RM (BTS)

A short imagine featuring BTS's leader Namjoon/RM x OC. BTS is such an inspiration to everything that I do. So enjoy ~ This is a cute imagine about not giving up. 

You can request an imagine/oneshot in the comments section! :) 

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They laughed at him when he said he wanted to be a writer. 

They called him names, flipped their and pulled out their tongues, wagging them like ferocious lap dogs. They jeered and told him that dreams were just dreams and that there was no way in eternity that him, of all people, would make it out alive. 

Namjoon remembered it as clearly as though it was yesterday. 

Bracing himself and tightening his knuckles, he threw another punch at the cloth dummy and watched it swing back in satisfaction. He swerved, leg whipping around in a smooth roundhouse kick and relishing in the satisfying bang! that echoed throughout the room. 

They said he would fail. They said that they'd meet him in ten years, starving in the gutter. 

He threw another punch, directly in the stomach this time. His knuckles ached, but he kept going. Adrenaline surged through his limbs, giving him power to drive through and drill all his moves home. 

Kick. Punch. Jab. Repeat. 

"I want to be a writer," he'd once told his mother as they sipped on Chinese tea at the dinner table. His mother had gazed at him for a full minute, with such a  contemplative look on her face that it made him squirm on the inside. But he'd held his ground, held her gaze in his for fear that if he suddenly looked away, it meant that he himself was ashamed of his statement. 

But he wasn't. It had been everything that Namjoon had wanted. To write.

To write stories and inspire people, because he believed that for his quiet nature, there was still a lot he had to say about it. 

"Are you sure?" was his mother's only question. 

To that, he'd nodded.

And then, she'd nodded back with a small smile, a smile that was now forever engraved in Namjoon's mind. 

She believed in him, and that was enough really, that there was one person who would support his dreams no matter what. 

Kick. Jab. Jab. Punch. Kick.

"Jeez, what did the puppet do to you?" Namjoon looked back to see a familiar figure leaning against the door of the training room, a small fond smile across her lips. 

Namjoon straightened from his stance, knuckles loosening at his sides as he wiped the sweat from his brow, "What are you doing here, Nami?" he asked as she skipped over to his side, nose wrinkling when she smelt a whiff of his sweat.

She held up the plastic bag he hadn't noticed was hanging from her fingers, "Tteokbokki," she announced like an excited child. She pulled him by the hand to the bleachers before plopping herself onto one of the seats. Namjoon unlatched his gloves and muttered a soft thank you when she passed him some chopsticks. 

The smell of the sweet and savoury rice cakes hit Namjoon's nostrils with such force that his mouth started watering immediately. He instantly dug in, only for Nami to laugh at his childish excitement as he stuffed two at a time in his mouth, munching like he hadn't eaten for days. 

"So, tell me. You're always down here when something bad happens," Nami asked as she plopped a rice cake in her mouth and hummed contently. 

Namjoon chewed, swallowed. 

He felt Nami eye him from the corner of his peripheral. 

"I didn't get in." 

There was distinct pause, a solid silence hanging in the air as his words floated around them, swirling like autumn leaves. 

"So?" 

His eyes fluttered up to meet Nami's brown mahogany, "What do you mean, 'so?' " he asked, a dash of annoyance filling his chest at the prospect of her brushing away something so important to him.

"Well," Nami extended her legs out before her with a smile, "You can try again."

Namjoon's jaw twitched, "That's all you gotta say about it?" he snapped, "try again?" 

She cocked her head, "What else is there to do?" 

She really wasn't helping the situation. In fact, she was making it worse. Anger and irritation ate away at his emotional restraint and he felt his fists clenching impulsively, wanting to unleash it somewhere, somehow. 

"I'm sorry. That probably came out wrong," when she spoke next, her voice was softer, "What I meant was that it's not the end of the world for you. You can apply again and again until you get it. That's how it works, rejection isn't that surprising in such circumstances." 

His anger dimmed slightly, "Yeah, but that means waiting another year." 

"Then, you can do something else in the mean time," Nami said brightly, "There are so many things you're good at! You write well, for one, so maybe you can write articles and stuff, or maybe you can try teaching people how to write...The possibilities are endless, Namjoon."

That made a lot more sense when she said it that way. There was a softness to her words, an underlying notion that somehow, she believed that everything turned out for the best. Nami had always been great at comforting people, but that didn't mean that she lied through her teeth to get them to cheer up. She just made his disappointment turn into another burst of hope. That was right, if he didn't get it then, he'd get it the next year. And if not, he'd keep trying.

It was nice to know that there was someone else who believed in him. Someone that mattered to him. 
And really, that was all there was to it.

"Thanks, Nami." he murmured then, as softly as she did. 

He felt the girl smile at his side, and true enough, caught sight of those cute dimples when his eyes traced her face. 

She shoved another tteokbokki into his mouth before he could protest, "Now eat."