Namjoon stays quiet in the passenger seat. The sky is dark and the beautiful, happy, oblivious couple are on their way back to their apartment to finish packing up before they head off to their honeymoon somewhere hot and peaceful. Seokjin is driving with both hands holding the wheel, clenching tightly and nervously. And Namjoon remains quiet.

Thoughts race in his mind and he doesn't know how to quieten them. They vie for his attention but Seokjin tries to ignore them all; he doesn't have an answer for any of the questions swirling around his mind like a snowstorm. What's going to happen? Seokjin wishes he knew. Who's going to die next? He's still working on that one. Did he make the right choice when he stopped Namjoon? Seokjin isn't sure, he'll never be sure.

When he reaches Namjoon's apartment, the younger male finally turns his neck to face Seokjin, and Seokjin stupidly does the same. He swallows, hard.

"Thanks for the lift," Namjoon tells Seokjin, his voice low and quiet.

"Don't worry about it," Seokjin replies.

Namjoon nods and releases himself from the clutches of the seatbelt, and he turns his body to head out of the car, but he stops himself like he's just remembered something that had temporarily left his mind. He turns back around and faces Seokjin again. "Take it easy this weekend," he tells Seokjin. "Look after yourself. If you need me for anything, call me. Okay? I mean it."

Seokjin's throat goes dry. All he manages to do is nod. And that seems to satisfy Namjoon, because he smiles a tiny smile at Seokjin before he heads out of the car. Closes the door behind him and walks to his apartment, and disappears inside it.

He stares at the entrance to Namjoon's apartment complex for a while before his strength comes back to him and he clears his throat, readjusts his mirrors like they need to be readjusted, and he sets off. And when he reaches home he falls face first into his bed and he blacks out.

His Sunday slips through his fingers like a blur. Vague recollections tell him he'd woken up sometime after two in the afternoon, and that the first time he'd eaten that day was a little after the sun had already set. He collapses back into his bed at night, his muscles feeling tired and worn out but at the same time cramped and tight and he doesn't know what he needs to do to stop feeling this way. He shuffles around until he's lying on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling, and now he can barely feel anything. His arms and legs feel like they don't belong to him. His heart feels like it's pumping through heavy, murky waters.

He shifts onto his side, tired eyes latching onto his phone besides his pillow. He wants to do something, he wants to grab his phone and do something, but all the suggestions that are cropping up in his mind are being deflected because sure, he wants to do something, but that isn't the right thing. He huffs, exasperated. What he wants to do is call Namjoon, ask him to come to him so that he could curl up into a ball and tuck himself tightly against Namjoon. He wants to build a cocoon around himself and let Namjoon take care of him. He wants to be protected.

It's too hard to push those thoughts away. There's a little voice in his mind that's telling him no, Seokjin, you've got it all wrong, you're the one that has to protect him, and usually that voice of his would be louder, stronger, would govern all other thoughts in his mind, but right now it's small and quiet and it's trembling in the corner of his mind. Seokjin hates it. Seokjin really, really hates it.

So he gives up. He lets a sigh whistle past his lips and he stops trying to rekindle the fire in his heart. For just tonight, he'll give up and let the murky, heavy waters fill up his mind and let it run rampant. It's far too difficult to fight back right now and he's completely alone, so the only person he's letting down right now is himself.

The sleep that claims him is heavy and dark and when he wakes up in the morning it feels like he hasn't slept at all.

On Monday morning he heads into work and puts on his fakest smile like he didn't spend the whole of last night longing to be in Namjoon's arms and says, "who's ready to fuck shit up?"

Namjoon just stares at him, expressionless, and Seokjin feels ridiculous. He quickly licks his lips and reduces himself to his chair and pretends like that didn't just happen (as Namjoon undeniably does) and tries to get to work. He tries to sort out his paperwork, tries to work out what needs to be done about Lee Mirae who has effectively been proven innocent but is still being detained until whoever is responsible for the murders has been apprehended, and tries to work out how he can further protect Jeongguk. He kind of wants to put Jeongguk in a bunker with mile-thick walls made of titanium or whatever the fuck material is strong enough to resist knives, bullets, bombs, a nuclear war, natural disasters, the Devil himself, Seokjin doesn't know, but what he does know is that it needs to be done. Jeongguk isn't dying. There's no debate about that.

Whether it's with a bunker made of titanium or Seokjin's own body, Jeongguk will be protected.

He looks over at Namjoon, whose face is devoid of emotions as he works. Fifty-nine days remain, according to his lifespan. If Seokjin is alive after he's managed to keep Jeongguk safe, then he will do it all over again for Namjoon.

"You're not allowed to stare at me like that," Namjoon drawls, eyelids low over his eyes where he's still concentrating on a file in front of him, seemingly not bothered to look in Seokjin's direction.

Seokjin swallows. "What makes you think you can give me orders?" he replies as he continues to stare.

Namjoon continues to focus on his work. "The fact that you confessed to me but didn't let me say it back. I'm not going to let you get away with all the things I used to let you get away with."

"You didn't let me get away with anything. You filed many complaints against me."

"I'll file some more."

Without angling his face away from his screen, Namjoon flicks his eyes over to Seokjin, and Seokjin's breath catches in his throat like he'd just accidentally swallowed a hard candy. He pauses when Namjoon looks at him but luckily Namjoon looks away just as abruptly as he'd looked at Seokjin. And when he does Seokjin finally releases that breath.

"We should leave now if we wanna make it on time for your appointment," Namjoon says calmly when he looks away from Seokjin to raise his wrist and look at the time on his watch. He straightens his back and turns a little to face Seokjin as if to say come on, let's go. But Seokjin just looks confused.

"We? You're coming with me?"

"Yeah," Namjoon answers like it was obvious, "I said I would, didn't I?"

Seokjin's fingers trail along the edge of his desk nervously. He licks his lips, again. "I thought..."

"You thought what?" Namjoon raises his brows, challenging the thoughts racing through Seokjin's mind. "I said I wouldn't let you get away with things like you used to. Nothing else has changed. I'm still going to support you in everything else."

"Namjoon..."

He stands up and goes to collect his coat. "Hurry up, we don't wanna miss your appointment."

But Seokjin remains sitting at his desk, watching with unblinking eyes as Namjoon coolly circles his coat around him to settle it on his shoulders before he pushes his arms through the sleeves. His heart is picking up speed in his chest and he doesn't know why – scratch that, Seokjin knows why. Seokjin knows exactly why. His heart is thumping in his chest like he's some shoujo manga heroine because he is completely and undeniably in love with Namjoon, and Namjoon makes it so easy for Seokjin to fall harder and harder for him.

Namjoon seems to realise that, too, because after he's slipped his phone into the pocket of his coat he looks at Seokjin who's still sitting at his desk, having not moved an inch, and the corner of one side of his lips quirk upwards ever so slightly that Seokjin thinks he may have imagined it. "I told you not to look at me like that," he tells Seokjin.

Seokjin coughs. "Like what?" he asks as he quickly looks down in the pretence that he's trying to find his phone.

"Like you like me. You didn't want me to say it back, so don't look at me like you're in love."

He stands up and turns around just to relieve himself of the pressure of having to face Namjoon, and he releases a heavy breath as he pulls his own coat on. "I can't help it," Seokjin says to the wall behind his desk, "your tits are so huge they have their own gravitational force that pulls my eyes towards them."

He hopes that this annoys Namjoon, that he huffs and walks out of the office, but Seokjin doesn't hear any sounds of indignation coming from him. Instead, he hears "uh-uh," come from Namjoon, "I told you not to talk to me like that, either."

There's a pang of something indescribable in Seokjin's chest as he turns around and finally faces Namjoon who's ready and waiting by the door, one hand on the handle. He lowers his gaze a little and circles around his desk to join Namjoon who, realising that Seokjin is finally coming along, opens the door and keeps it open for Seokjin. That feeling in Seokjin's chest doesn't dissipate even as Namjoon walks in front of him, taking them to the elevator. It doesn't dissipate even as they ride the elevator down in silence. As they walk through the parking lot to Seokjin's car. As they board and as Seokjin starts to drive.

Seokjin still can't put a name to that feeling, but it feels like it could be regret. Seokjin wonders if he made a mistake.

But what's new? Seokjin makes a lot of mistakes.

At the hospital Namjoon waits outside in the waiting area while Seokjin sees the doctor. He'd just silently shrugged his coat off, folded it, and placed it on his lap after he'd sat down.

A nurse collects him and whisks him off somewhere to get a few preliminary tests done and out of the way before Dr Kang sees him. The nurse takes Seokjin's blood pressure, his blood sugar levels, his weight, BMI, the pressures inside his eye, and a few others that Seokjin doesn't pay enough attention to. Then, after waiting for half an hour quietly with Namjoon, Dr Kang calls him and leads him towards her consulting room. She asks him how his day has been, a light preamble before she cuts to chase.

"The pressure inside your eyes have decreased somewhat," she begins as she peers closer to the results of the preliminary tests Seokjin underwent. "But not to the point that I can discharge you. When you came here last, they were averaging twenty-five in each eye. Now, they're averaging twenty-two."

Seokjin just nods.

"It's an improvement, of course, but you're not in the clear just yet. Have you had any other problems with your eyes?"

"I mean... sometimes my vision goes funny. Kind of like it goes out of focus but then it comes back."

Dr Kang releases a heavy sigh, and Seokjin feels it deeply, settling into his bones like a thick trickling of anxiety. She laces her fingers together atop her desk. "Keep using the drops I gave you. I'll review you in a month's time."

Seokjin inhales deeply and swallows every question that swims up in his chest. He pushes it all down, and he settles with just "alright," and then proceeds to set the date of their next appointment. The questions in his mind, the worry of the fate of his eyes, Seokjin leaves unanswered. He wonders if this is a mistake, too.

But he smiles as good-heartedly as he can to Namjoon when he finds him in the waiting area and mouths a come on to him, beckoning Namjoon to join him. Together they walk quietly out of the hospital, to the car park, and into Seokjin's car.

"How did it go?" Namjoon asks mildly as they strap themselves in.

"As good as any appointment with a doctor would go," Seokjin replies vaguely as he pulls out of the parking spot.

"Which means...?"

"It means you don't have to worry," he smiles to Namjoon when he looks into the mirror by the passenger's seat.

"I'm going to worry either way," Namjoon claps back resolutely.

The traffic lights up ahead turn red and Seokjin slows the car down until he reaches a standstill. Then, with the car completely stationary and with only the hum of the engine swimming between them, he lowers his head and sighs. "Why have you suddenly become so caring?"

"What's the problem? You like me. I should be caring."

"So that's it? You're only being nice because now you know that I like you? Did you only want to- to say it back to me because I like you? Do you- do you actually-"

"Yeah," Namjoon breathes out. "I do. I have for a long time. But you're very annoying most of the time."

"I try."

"Yeah. You're really annoying. And I'm not the type to idolise anyone. I don't think the sun shines out of your ass. I don't think you're perfect. But I still lo-"

"Rude," Seokjin cuts him off quickly, foot pressing down on the gas when the lights turn green. "The sun does shine out of my ass, and I amperfect. You bitch."

Namjoon lets out a soft exhale. "So you're going to stop me from saying it whenever I try?"

"Mm," Seokjin sounds a soft affirmative.

A few moments of a soft, tender silence flits through the space of the car, backed up by the low thrum of the engine.

"Why?" Namjoon asks, quietly after a minute.

Seokjin presses his lips together and tightens his hold on the steering wheel. "I can't tell you."

He feels Namjoon's gaze on him, on the side of his face, but he doesn't meet Namjoon's eyes. He can't. He focuses on the road ahead and he narrows his eyes and he tries to push out all thoughts in his mind about the one sitting next to him, about his lifespan. He tries to push it all out and focus only on what's ahead, but the road is long and Seokjin isn't sure if there's an end to it, after all.

Namjoon stays quiet until they return to the company building, silently walking besides him to the elevator, silently pressing the button that takes them up to the floor their offices are on. The doors slide shut, and the elevator starts moving up. When there's about three more floors to go, Namjoon exhales. "Do you want to be with me?" he asks like he hasn't stopped thinking about this, like their silence meant nothing in the way of stifling the conversation and their thoughts. Seokjin inhales sharply through his nose.

"Namjoon, I told you, I-"

"You told me you love me," Namjoon cuts him off, "but you didn't say if you wanted to be with me."

Two more floors to go. "I won't let you say it back. That's all you need to know."

"No. I need to know if you want to be with me or not."

"I'm not going to answer that."

"Then I won't stop asking. But if you tell me, now, that you want nothing to do with me in that sense, then I'll stop."

One more floor to go. "Why is it so important to you?"

"Why isn't it important to you?"

The elevator pings when they reach their floor and the doors slide open. Seokjin quickly steps out of it and walks so fast down the hallway that he's almost running, and the sound of his own heart racing in his chest, crashing against the walls, makes him deaf to the sounds of Namjoon's footsteps behind him. He rips open the door to his office, throws his coat to one side, and drops himself into his chair. Turns his screen on before Namjoon even enters the office.

"Sorry, I've got a lot of work to do," Seokjin tells him when he appears in the doorframe, huffing like he's equal parts tired and irritated.

"Yeah, I know," he huffs, "I know you have a lot of work to do. Guess who does it when you can't be bothered? Me."

"Namjoon-"

"Nuh-uh," he shakes his head at Seokjin. "I'm gonna sit here and watch One Piece while you catch up to all the work you have to do. Do you know how many episodes there are in One Piece? Nearly nine hundred, you nut job."

Seokjin licks his lips as he watches with bated breath as Namjoon ends his little rant and slips some earphones into his ears and presumably starts watching the anime on his computer screen. His brows are drawn, pushed all the way down, and there's a frown on his thick lips.

"Namjoon-"

Without looking up, Namjoon raises one finger to him to silence him.

So instead he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his coat he'd discarded on the floor.

To: Joon
I'm sorry

After hitting send, Seokjin looks up, expectantly, at Namjoon. He watches as Namjoon's phone buzzes and he pauses the anime to look at his screen. He reads the text, and he takes his phone into his hands without looking up at Seokjin.

From: Joon
I know

He locks his phone and places it back onto his desk and re-immerses himself in his anime.

Seokjin swallows slowly and takes one last look at Namjoon. In another life, he might've been with Namjoon. They might've been free to tell each other words of love. They might've been happy. Seokjin sighs and looks at his screen.

He tries looking for Jeongguk when he walks into the station even though he knows Jeongguk will be on patrol. He grows worried even though he knows this; knows that Jeongguk won't be here, he's out doing his job, but he still worries. It's not yet the sixteenth of February, hell, it's still January, but Seokjin can't help but worry. Jeongguk is being targeted, and despite the fact that his lifespan hasn't changed, Seokjin still worries. That's his baby brother.

One of the officers approach Seokjin and recognises him straight away, promising to notify Yoongi. He hangs around the lobby area with his coat folded in his arms until Yoongi appears in front of him and beckons him to follow. So Seokjin does, following him until they reach Yoongi's desk where they sit.

Yoongi brings his arms up, fingers interlaced in front of his mouth as he sighs. "Seokjin," he starts heavily, "you're my friend, and I want to help you."

Seokjin doesn't say a word. He just waits for Yoongi to continue, for the sentence that begins with the word but.

"But I just can't wrap my head around why you're certain that Jeongguk is going to be targeted next. I will provide all the security I can, but... I don't know. It just doesn't feel right. I don't understand."

You won't understand, Seokjin wants to reply, but he doesn't. Instead, he sighs and sags his shoulders. "Look, Yoongi, I just... I just know."

"Know what, though? The Morse code on the legs of the chair means that the third victim will be your brother? The books in the shelf of the first victim contain some subliminal message that points towards your brother? I don't know. I just don't buy it."

Seokjin drops his gaze down to the desk as he tries to think of something he can say that'll satisfy Yoongi. Hey, so, funny thing – I know when you're going to die! Seokjin pushes that thought out of his mind. Actually, Yoongi, the killer is targeting me by finishing off my family first. The first two victims? Nah, don't know them.

"Look," Yoongi sigh heavily, shaking his head as he does, "Jeongguk seems to believe you, and like I said, you're my friend, so I will make sure he's protected on that day. And if it turns out Jeongguk really is being targeted, then I will need you to explain to me exactly how you knew."

Seokjin presses his lips together. "Sure," he resolves, his voice tight and high-strung. "Just keep him alive. He's all I have left."

Yoongi unlaces his fingers and reaches across the desk, tapping Seokjin on the underside of his chin. "I know," he tells Seokjin. "I know, so keep your head high, okay? Now come on, I'm hungry. Let's go get some tteokbokki."

Twenty minutes later they're seated at a rusty round table at a tteokbokki stand somewhere near Seokjin's apartment just so that he can walk home, mildly drunk, and not worry about his car. He thinks about this as they sip on their bottles of soju while the auntie who runs the tteokbokki stand makes their order.

Another two minutes later, Hoseok appears out of nowhere and plops down at the table besides Seokjin and reaches out for a bottle like it belongs to him, chugging down a mouthful while Seokjin's eyes go wide and he gapes at the unwelcomed newcomer. "Excuse me?" he gawks at Hoseok, who places the bottle back down on the table and meets Seokjin's eyes. "What in the name of shit do you think you're doing?"

"Having a drink with my two favourite people?" Hoseok replies, feigning confusion as he greets Yoongi, who greets him back like he'd been expecting Hoseok.

Seokjin gasps. "Did you invite him?" he asks, and when Yoongi nods Seokjin dramatically slaps his hand to his chest. "This is betrayal."

Neither Yoongi nor Hoseok seem to give a shit about Seokjin's anguish because the tteokbokki comes over, fresh and steaming, and the two of them begin eating immediately. Seokjin pouts but he realises that neither of them truly care anymore (not that they ever did) and now that his food is here, he's starting not to care, either. He pulls the plate towards him and he just starts to eat while occasionally throwing dirty looks towards both Hoseok and Yoongi.

Yoongi wipes his mouth on the back of his hand when he's finished and takes a swig from his bottle of soju before he looks Seokjin in the eye. "There's something fishy going on with the case at hand," he starts abruptly, and Seokjin raises his brows. "Too many things aren't adding up."

"Tell me about it," Seokjin sighs as he sips on his soju.

"The first two victims have nothing to do with each other," Yoongi begins, furrowing his brows, "and they have nothing to do with you. So why were you sent a bouquet of those flowers? Why are they now targeting Jeongguk? And why so long after the second murder? It just doesn't make sense."

Seokjin pulls in a deep breath and lets his shoulders sag as he exhales.

"I found out something interesting, though," Hoseok edges in as he plays with the rim of his soju bottle. Seokjin flicks his eyes up from it to Hoseok's eyes which are low-lidded now, his face slightly flushed. "A connection between the first two victims."

"What?" Yoongi barks as he slams his fist on the table. "Why didn't you say so earlier?!"

Hoseok startles. "Relax, you tiny gremlin. I only just found out today. That's why I called to meet you."

"What did you find?" Seokjin asks before Yoongi could get riled up.

"Both Jang Jaewon and Hong Haejoo's mother are a part of the same... uh... church? Well, it's not really a church. I don't know what it is. But they're a part of it."

"Okay..." Seokjin sounds, cautious and anticipating. "Didn't you find out more about it?"

"No. Couldn't. It's not... it's not an established thing, you know? Like it's not on the internet. I don't know," Hoseok waves his hand and burps. Seokjin makes a mental note of speaking to him when he's sober.

"Did you at least get a name? Something about this... thing that we can use to identify it?" Yoongi asks hopefully.

Hoseok shakes his head. "Nah. Jaewon's friends knew he was a part of something, but none of them knew what. And Hong Haejoo's father said the same thing about her mother, but her mother refused to speak to me."

"That doesn't mean it's the same thing they're talking about," Seokjin refutes.

Hoseok shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah. But it's still a connection."

"It ain't a connection until we know exactly what it is," Yoongi replies dejectedly, and Hoseok presses his lips together.

"Anyway," Seokjin waves his hand as he finishes off his soju. "What's going to happen to the kid? Lee Mirae? Is he still in custody?"

Yoongi nods. "He's still our main suspect. No one has died since his arrest, so unless another murder does occur, he's going to remain our main suspect."

"Poor kids," Hoseok laments.

Seokjin sighs and rests his arms on the table just before his phone buzzes in his pocket. He lazily fishes it out of his pocket and looks at the screen to find Namjoon calling him, so he presses on the screen to answer it. He presses the phone to his ear. "Howdy."

"What kind of yeehaw bullshit is that? Who the fuck says howdy," Namjoon spits on the other side of the line. "You, I guess. Anyway. Are you okay? How drunk are you?"

"Who's that?" Hoseok half-drawls, leaning in towards Seokjin. Seokjin shoos him away.

"Only a little bit drunk," Seokjin replies. "Maybe, like, half a cup of shitfaced."

"Lovely. How are you going to get home?"

"I'll probably just walk. I'm not far from home."

"Do you want me to come?"

"Why?"

"To make sure you get home safely? Because when you're drunk you're like a baby deer who isn't quite sure of how to walk properly?"

Seokjin pinches his lips together. "Hmm. Are you sure you're not just saying that because you want to take me home and get in my pants?"

He hears Namjoon sigh. "Not when you're drunk and can't give consent."

"Wow. What a gentleman."

"Jesus Christ," Namjoon breathes and he hangs up. Seokjin detaches his phone from his ear and stares at the screen for a few moments, blinking lazily at it, before he hears Yoongi's phone ringing. Yoongi answers it after he decides it's a call worth taking.

"Yep, he's with me," Yoongi says to whoever had called him. "He's a little drunk, yeah. Okay. Cool. Yeah, we're at a tteokbokki stand near the station, you know the one with the- yeah, that one. Alright, cool. See you."

Seokjin blinks a few times and watches as Yoongi nonchalantly pockets his phone. "Who was that?" he asks.

"Who do you think? Your subordinate that honestly? You don't deserve."

"Shut up."

Twenty minutes of a colourful cocktail of complaining, bickering, and name-calling later, Namjoon makes his appearance. He taps Seokjin on the shoulder and gestures for him to stand. Seokjin pouts.

"Come on. We have work tomorrow," Namjoon tries to convince him.

"I'll just call in sick, it's cool."

"And what, make me do all your work? No thanks."

He hooks his hands under Seokjin's arms and pulls, lifting him up and off his seat. He forces Seokjin to follow him by clamping his hand around Seokjin's wrist, dragging him along towards Seokjin's apartment. Seokjin tries to whinge some more but after a second of being totally ignored by Namjoon, he gives up and stays quiet as they walk. It doesn't take long, walking through the neighbourhood, but when Namjoon reaches Seokjin's apartment complex he doesn't let go of Seokjin's wrist. Instead, he walks inside, locates the elevator, and takes Seokjin all the way to his front door.

"Alright, go inside. Take a shower. Drink some water. Do your skincare routine. Brush your teeth. And then go to sleep," Namjoon rattles off a list of instructions to Seokjin, all of which goes in one ear and comes out the other.

"How about: I strip naked and just go to sleep?"

Namjoon sighs. "Do whatever you want," he huffs and takes a step back before he turns around to leave. Seokjin, with all the speed of Sonic the Hedgehog, darts his hand out and grabs Namjoon's wrist.

"Stay with me," he tells Namjoon's back.

"I told you, not while you're drunk and can't give consent. Besides, if you were sober you wouldn't want this."

"But I do. Want this. I want you badly. I-"

"No," Namjoon cuts him off harshly, turning to face him. "Tell me when you're sober. Then I'll believe you."

Seokjin frowns.

"Go inside. We'll talk tomorrow morning."

With a prim huff, Seokjin spins on his heel. "That's if I show up," he mutters under his breath before he walks into his apartment and kicks the door shut behind him.

He walks into his apartment, loosening his tie as he goes. He pulls it off his neck and discards it on the floor. As he moves into his bedroom his shirt is unbuttoned and dropped onto the ground besides the bed. Then, his pants. He remembers to remove his contact lenses but where he drops them he doesn't know, and he falls into bed.

In the morning, Seokjin feels like absolute shit. But what's new? He groans and tells the sun to fuck off before rolling over on his bed to grab his glasses, put them on, and then pick up his phone. There are a few texts from Namjoon, all written in capital letters, telling him that he better come in to work.

To: Joon
make me

He heads into the shower and brushes his teeth and tries to make himself feel more like a human and less like a walking headache.

From: Joon
I know where u live

From: Joon
I will drag u to work if I have to

"Jesus," Seokjin mutters under his breath as he reads the text, and there's no doubt in his mind that Namjoon can and will drag him to work like he says he would. Seokjin doesn't doubt him at all. His head is pounding and he really wants to drop back into his bed but he forces himself to get dressed. He pops a painkiller or two and heads out.

He pushes the door to his office wide open and enters slowly, watching as Namjoon looks up at him from his desk, eyes wide in surprise and bewilderment. "Bonjour, bitch," Seokjin greets as he strides past Namjoon and takes a seat at his own desk. He places his coffee on the desk and starts up his computer and tries to ignore the throbbing of the left side of his brain along with the way Namjoon is staring, intently, at him.

But he can't ignore it any longer – he feels Namjoon's stare on his skin like ice water, and it prickles against him until he can't ignore it any longer. He turns his head to meet Namjoon's gaze.

"Take a photograph, it'll last longer," Seokjin tells him.

"Do you spew bullshit whenever you're uncomfortable?"

"I'm not uncomfortable."

"Alright then," Namjoon concedes, and lets out an exhale. He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't want to keep talking about this, but I have to know. Especially after last night. Did you mean what you said?" Namjoon asks, his eyebrows raised. Seokjin quickly looks away and glues his eyes to his screen. "You said you wanted me," he continues. "And I told you we'd talk when you're sober. So unless you took up day drinking, we're going to talk."

Seokjin swallows, hard, as he remembers being drunk enough to say what he did to Namjoon, but not drunk enough that unfortunately, he still remembers. He presses his lips together in a bid to keep his words to himself, but they push at his seams and he kind of really wants to let it all go.

"Seokjin-ssi. Please. At least tell me why you don't want this."

He swallows again, hard, and wonders how that conversation will ever go. Sorry, Joon, we can't be together because it's only gonna hurt me more when you die. Which is going to happen in fifty-four days, by the way. What a joke. I'm selfish, I know.

He hears Namjoon sigh and he wonders if he'll ever stop being a disappointment.

"It's unprofessional for co-workers to date each other," Seokjin tells Namjoon, licking his lips and hoping that this fact he'd plucked out of thin air is enough to deter him.

"I have a copies of every complaint I ever made about you, you want to talk about being unprofessional?"

"Namjoon, I-"

"Okay, whatever," he waves his hand, dismissing Seokjin, and apparently returning his focus to his work as he plasters on his most unbothered, uncaring expression onto his face. "I'm done talking about this. I'm gonna watch Boku no Hero."

"I thought you were watching One Piece?"

"Too many episodes."

Seokjin nods. "Understandable."

"This Aoyama guy reminds me of you," is what Namjoon says after a few hours of total silence in the office. Seokjin whips his head towards him.

"How dare you! I-"

"Shh, Midoriya and Todoroki are about to start their match."

"Asshole," Seokjin spits, muttering under his breath, pushing out his lower lip as he sulks.

Seokjin absentmindedly checks through all of the notifications on his phone as he walks into his apartment that evening, swiping away the ones he doesn't care about, leaving the ones he'll attend to later. He reaches his bedroom and is about to chuck his phone onto his bed when he realises that one of the texts he'd received is from an unknown number. So he pauses, at the foot of his bed, and peers closer at his screen.

From: Unknown Number
It's tough, I know, but you have to stay strong.

Seokjin furrows his brows, deep, as he stares at his screen. He doesn't recognise the number at all, and when he copies and pastes it into his search engine, nothing comes up. He continues to stare, trying to figure out who the sender could possibly be, when he yawns and gives up because he's tired. He holds his phone in both hands and starts typing back.

From: Unknown Number
This is the only way, Seokjin. Don't give up.

The number, this time, is different from the first. This one, too, doesn't flag up any results when he pastes the number into a search engine. He quickly dials the number and presses his phone to his ear.

The line rings once, twice, three times, before it goes dead.