Hangers {Kim Namjoon}

Chapter Forty Seven ~

Despite the freezing cold, the two friends sat on Namjoon's porch steps. They had been there for a while, shivering and sparing glances over to the house next door repeatedly. "Two hours to spare," Namjoon murmured.

Hoseok's raised his head up from where he had it tucked between his knees. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks were wet. "If he... If he somehow gets that story to Emma's dad-" He hiccupped on a quiet sob before he straightened his legs out. "Fuck."

Namjoon didn't know what to say. "Well, I met his assistant, and he," he sighed, "saw how I barely have anything to eat and probably thinks I'm not qualified for the job."

"This has screwed up everything!" Hoseok groaned. "Maybe Miyuu is having a bad day, too."

"The day hasn't even really started," Namjoon replied. But the sound of heels clicking against the cement sidewalk began to pound its way into the boys' hearings. They turned and saw Miyuu approaching, her purse half-heartedly thrown over her shoulder. "Speak of the devil."

They looked up at her when she stood in front of them. Namjoon noticed she didn't have any makeup on, contrary to what he expected her to show up in. "I actually hate my life," she said, a small whimper in her voice. Namjoon could hear the tiny voice crack that Hoseok probably didn't catch.

"I just got fired," Hoseok stated.

"And I got accused of neglecting Emma," Namjoon added.

Miyuu looked up, giving the sky the dirtiest look she could. "Well, damn."

Namjoon pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the time. "We got two hours to spare. What's up with you?"

Miyuu shrugged. "I don't feel like it's worth mentioning now."

Hoseok leaned back on Namjoon's porch. "I don't care. What else are we going to do for two hours?"

Miyuu wiped away a stray tear before letting her purse fall to the ground. "I was going to pick us up and take us to the café, but my car fucking died."

"Ouch," Hoseok muttered.

"Learn to live without it," Namjoon said with a little humor in his tone. After all, Namjoon didn't have a car. He walked and took the bus everywhere he went. Despite being told he wouldn't survive without one, he managed. After all, he didn't have a job yet, which meant no spare money to put toward gas.

Miyuu sandwiched herself in between the two boys. Namjoon scooted over, mainly to give her space on his crowded steps, but she noticed and took it as something else.

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