The Pilot || MinJoon

Chapter 27

Namjoon sits on his couch, idly gazing at the changing sky through his window as it turns from a rosy pink to a dusky purple. He checks his watch and sees that it's 5:30 in the afternoon. He leans his head back and sighs, wondering if he should call Jimin to let him know that he's home.

A part of him wants to hear his boyfriend's voice right now-- he can't get enough of Jimin's sweet, honeyed tone that can switch from impish to downright sensual in an instant. Like his personality, the CEO's voice has many layers, soft and gentle in one moment, but distinctively silky and alluring in the next. Jimin's voice has the power to soothe him, calm him down, and turn him on, all at the same time. 

So yes, Namjoon really likes his voice. 

But a part of him doesn't want Jimin to see him like this. What kind of person would want a boyfriend that's been broken down so badly, to the point that he had to go through years of therapy just so he could function like a normal adult? Jimin doesn't deserve that. He's a wildly successful and very desirable businessman who deserves a strong partner who can take care of him, someone who won't buckle down amidst criticism and nitpicking from strangers. 

Namjoon, still in his pilot uniform save for his shoes, was about to curl up into a ball of misery on the couch when he gets a glimpse of his favorite bonsai plant. The miniature red plum blossom tree appears to have sprouted two orange flowers while he was at Jimin's place, and the plant's resilience never fails to impress him.

He moves towards the sink and refills a spray bottle with some water, thinking that the plant must be thirsty. He's been caring for it for the past six years, and despite its delicate appearance, the bonsai never fails to bloom every two to three months, and sometimes, it even bears fruit, much to Namjoon's delight. 

He bends down slightly to give the plant a spritz of water. "You work so hard," he murmurs to the tiny tree. He watches the droplets roll off the flower petals and thinks about all the things that Baby Plum has been through. 

It has moved homes with him. It's been through six terribly hot summers and bitterly cold winters. The plant even survived a fall when he accidentally dropped it while he was repotting it.  And yet, here it is, strong, alive, and thriving. And still beautiful, despite all of that.

"I'm not like you," he whispers. "But maybe I should take some pointers from you, buddy. Work harder to be better, stronger. Because how can I love Jimin if I can't learn to love myself?"

But despite the fact that he's been pieced together after being mercilessly broken down, he hopes that Jimin would still want him, cracks and all. To be honest, he's not really sure if he could live without him in his life anymore. After Jimin filled up the empty space inside his heart, it only made him aware how dark and how expansive that space really was. And yet, Jimin was able to fill it with his presence, his kindness, and his caring ways.

Thinking about a life without Jimin almost takes his breath away as a surge of pain knifes through his heart. And right then and there, as he gently strokes Baby Plum's tiny leaves, he comes to the following conclusions.

One, there is no way that he can give Jimin up. His life is not a K-drama where the protagonist gives up the one true thing that makes him happy just because he thinks the other would do better without him. That noble idiocy trope is just the worst.

Two, he's not the same Namjoon from 2010. He's grown up, he's toughened up somewhat, made something of himself,  and he did the responsible thing by seeking help when he needed it. Doesn't that make him a responsible, dependable adult who's capable of protecting and taking care of himself and the person that he adores?