Originally posted by kimnamjuniverse

Prompt: “Does he hit you?” In which your best friend, Namjoon, can’t keep it a secret any longer. 

Genre: ANGST

Member: Kim Namjoon

Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse

Word Count: 2,304

~

It’s nearly 4 in the morning when Namjooon is jolted from slumber by the shrill buzzing of his phone underneath his pillow, his heavy lids pulling themselves apart with great reluctance as he fishes blindly for the humming device. Finally, his fingers detect the object, yanking it clumsily to his ear as his head falls back into the pillow.

“Hello?” he breathes, the husk of his sleep ridden voice groaning through the receiver. 

“Joon? It’s me,” you reveal hoarsely, trying your best to keep your voice level through the prickling tears that are threatening to spill over in a fresh wave. You press the phone closer to your own ear, your free hand wrapped around yourself in an effort to shield against the biting chill of the night breezing over your exposed skin. 

“Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is immediately perked, confusion laced within the fuzzy sounds of him sitting up in bed. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

You ignore his prodding, swallowing the painful burn in the back of your clenched throat. “I’m outside.”

“What? I-I’m on my way down,” he stutters, obviously caught off guard by your surprise visit. You’ve randomly shown up at the dorms late at night more times than you could count in your years of friendship with Namjoon, but never have you made an appearance sounding as troubled as you do tonight. 

You end the call with a shaky thumb, shoving the phone back into your pocket as you shift on your feet, waiting for the large front door of the dorm house to be pulled open by the person you want to see most right now. It seems like forever and then some before the wooden obstruction finally swings away to reveal a sleep-tossed Namjoon standing in the frame. His loose sweatpants hang low on his hips, the giant sweater he obviously just threw on bunched at the bottom to divulge a thin strip of his melanin skin. The soft brown of his hair is sticking up at odd angles, hardly taming the pillow induced look when he runs his long fingers through it. 

He squints against the glare of the streetlight as he takes in your figure standing timidly on the doorstep, recognizing instantly the old jacket wrapped around your torso that you stole from him before he left for the last tour. His eyes soften as they rake over the state of your face: flushed cheeks, red-puffed eyes raw from being rubbed too much, and a splotchy complexion, only confirming the suspicions he’d had mulling through his head on the way downstairs.

Namjoon takes a step outside, reaching his hand out in your direction to prompt you over to him. “Come on, it’s cold out here,” he says gently, smiling that comforting smile as you approach, allowing him to take your clammy palm in his as he tugs you into the warmth and darkness of the quiet house. 

“Do you want some water?” he inquires as you follow closely behind him through the kitchen on the way to the stairs. Glancing back over his shoulder, Namjoon sees you nod tinily and softly grins as he releases your hand at the counter, venturing further in to quietly fill a glass with the clear liquid. He rejoins you a moment later, retaking your hand in his without a word as the two of you continue to silently trek the rest of the way up to Namjoon’s room.

It’s the same as it’s always been; His wide bed is strewn with an assortment of sheets and blankets, never situated quite right since Namjoon fidgets in his sleep. The walls are littered with boards covered in his countless ideas, song lyrics, and random quotes that he finds inspiring while the floor is kept spotless-one of his pet peeves. His laptop has been left open like usual on his small desk, the pieces of a new song he’s been working on glowing softly on the screen. The scene around you, lit by nothing more than the beams of the moon through the window, mixed with the familiar scent of Namjoon’s cologne sends a wash of calm through your body, allowing a deep, and much needed, breath to fill your lungs. 

Once Namjoon has gingerly pressed the door shut behind the both of you, he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, his lanky legs splayed out as he looks up to where you’re standing, your eyes to the floor, picking at your nails. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he finally speaks into the silence, causing you to flinch.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lie, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with a fake smile that only makes you lip begin to tremble once again. You bite down on it hard until you regain control. “Can’t I miss my best friend?”

Namjoon holds your gaze for a good while, analyzing your face with diligence before he reaches out and wraps his nimble fingers around your wrist, ever-so-gently pulling you forward into the gap of his legs. “Is it Joowon again?”

When you don’t answer, your eyes remaining downcast, Namjoon sighs. “Y/N, this is the third time in two months you’ve come here because of him. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” you cut, not trusting your voice to handle anything longer than that without breaking. 

“Then what is this?” Namjoon presses carefully. He slowly lifts your hand where he has gripped your wrist, removing his fingers to unveil the rich, purple bruising shadowing your skin. Flinching, you yank your hand away, hiding it behind your back as you avoid Namjoon’s steady gaze. With a trembling chest and burning throat, you listen as Namjoon speaks the words that sends your facade crumbling down around you. 

“Y/N, does he…does he hit you?”

A wellspring of tears chokes up your throat, your face contorting with a silent gasp as your chest aches in frustration and defeat. You fall forward into the pull of Namjoon, crashing into him and burying your soaked features into the warm fabric of his sweater, the comfortable heat of his body seeping through. You wrap your weak arms around his narrow middle, squeezing him against you as tightly as you can in an attempt to rid yourself of the tension prodding your sore muscles. Namjoon responds instantly, his own eyes blinking back a prickling heat as he feels you come undone against him, the pain and dejection of the past few months spilling over in this utterly tragic expression. 

His strong and lengthy arms coax you into his embrace, one wide palm stroking the expanse of your hair as the other trails a consoling pattern against your spine. You feel the pressure of his cheek against the crown of your head, prompting your hands to fist themselves in the excess material of his top. After a moment, you briefly note that Namjoon has situated you over his lap, your legs dangling off the side as he cradles your sobbing body against his shape. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers chastely, not trying to upset you any further, but needing answers.  

“I’m sorry,” is all you can choke out in between the wracking gasps of your lungs, the taxation of tears rolling full force now. 

Namjoon gently hushes you, placing your head into the crook of his neck as he begins rocking back and forth. “None of this is your fault, do you hear me?” he addressed sternly. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for anything. Don’t even apologize to me, okay?”

It’s all you can do to nod into his chest, squeezing your fist tighter around the fabric over his stomach, your knuckles pressing against the firm muscles hidden underneath. 

There’s another moment purely filled with the sounds of your staggered sobs before Namjoon speaks again. “You don’t deserve this. Why don’t you leave him?”

Your eyes are inflamed with the effort of crying, burning as you squeeze them shut in internal frustration. “I c-can’t leave him, Namjoon,” you stutter through your tears, feeling a fleeting guilt for soaking Namjoon’s perfectly fine sweater. “H-He’s all I have.”

“That’s not true,” Namjoon negates, lithe fingers trailing up your neck and resting under you trembling chin. “You have us.” He gingerly lifts your tear-stained gaze to meet his, his big, coffee-brown eyes searching your face with a soft sincerity. “You have me.”

“If I don’t have him, who else will want me?” you snivel, looking at Namjoon’s familiar face with desperate eyes. His heart wrenches as he takes in your expression, how much you actually believe those lies evident in the acute furrowing of your brows. He realizes with great sadness that the relationship he had painfully allowed you to participate in, a relationship he also had done nothing to stop until this point, has snapped the inside of the person you once were–unashamed and unapologetic–and morphed you into a fragmented shadow, convinced that your abilities and attributes are reliant of Joowon’s opinion of you.

Namjoon breathes deeply, realizing that the moment he has been sizing up in his head for the past two years has fallen into his lap. Literally. Unable to keep his thoughts at bay, his heart begins hammering wildly, the puffy and red face, hiccuping with tears before him, causing his throat to clench with want as his eyes trail down to plumped lips. His tongue involuntarily darts out to wet his own lips as he scans the unaware expression of your face, the heartache, desire, and need to rid you of this sadness overwhelming.

You lean into the palm of Namjoon’s warm and expansive hand as his thumb gently caresses away the rogue tears littering your cheek, your shaking body shifting slightly as his grip around your waist tugs. You meet his doe-eyes to find them hooded with something different than before, glancing methodically from your irises, down, and back up again. 

A few more careful swipes of his thumb across your cheek console you before his finger strays off course, moving slowly towards yours lips as it begins to lethargically trace the outline of your cupid’s bow. 

“I want you,” he barely whispers before closing the gap between your encroaching mouths.

The sensation that blooms in your stomach as Namjoon’s full, pink lips fit against yours is unfamiliar. Your brain tells you to pull away, but your taxed body responds in a different manner, leaning into the feeling of his hands carefully sheltering your cheeks. Namjoon’s lips stay still against yours for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the sudden connection as he tests the waters. Your heart begins pounding in a new way as all of the emotions spilling over transition into something nothing short of desire. 

Letting all logic escape you, you gently run your hands up the expanse of Namjoon’s chest, coming to rest over his prominent collar bones and exploring the soft slopes of his skin before venturing further up. Trembling fingers snake around the smooth texture of his throat, lacing themselves in the mess of hair at the nape of his neck. You carefully pull Namjoon against you, bravely applying moving pressure against his mouth in consent. 

The moment he feels you respond, his inhibitions fly out the window, the years of anticipation and want boiling over with rapture at the feeling of your soft skin against his. He begins to move his anxious mouth in concession with yours, tilting his head slightly in an effort to connect to more of you. Your breath leaves your body swiftly as Namjoon works, the gentle kiss morphing into something deeper, more intimate. His hands are all over you, running up and down your spine, trailing over the rise of your shoulder blades, piecing into the curvature of your neck, and repeating the process. 

You push your hands further up his scalp, nails softly raking and tugging, the deep groan of contentment that vibrates through Namjoon’s throat instilling you with a confidence. You become braver with the pushing and pulling of your lips, tugging Namjoon closer to you as your bodies connect flush against each other. You flinch slightly with nerves when you feel the warmth of Namjoon’s tongue trail along your bottom lip, desiring to taste more of you.

Melting into the sensation of the pads of Namjoon’s fingers brushing underneath the hem of your shirt, massaging soft pressure into the exposed skin, you allow him entry, loosing your mind over the longing of the kiss. So many things are running through your head at the moment, but you squelch each thought that threatens to ruin the feeling, knowing that right now, Namjoon is all you want.

His tongue caresses the inside of your mouth, seeking out the entirety of you as you fall further into the lull of his hold. You become limp in his arms as his teeth find purchase on you lower lip, gently tugging as he breathlessly pulls away. Your eyes slowly open as he rests his forehead against yours, his hand cradling the back of you neck with chaste fingers. His eyes are staring hungrily at your swollen lips, his free thumb returning to map out the line of your pout. “So soft,” he whispers, his gaze intent. 

“Namjoon–” you begin to say, before he presses a finger to your lips in protest. 

“Please don’t say anything,” he requests gently, closing his eyes. “Just…stay with me tonight.”

You can’t do anything but nod, your body completely spent after this whirlwind of emotions. No longer can you remember the reason you came here tonight, the cruelty of the other man completely doused by the overwhelming affection and care of the one before you. Tomorrow there will be plenty of time for talking, but tonight, as you slide under the crisp sheets enveloped in the steady arms of your best friend, you desire nothing more than this.