The cold February air tastes clean in Seokjin's lungs when he inhales deeply, looking up at the sky that is devoid of clouds. It's bright and it's blue but it's cold and there's a certain dark and oppressing gloom in the atmosphere as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his long coat. There isn't another soul in the cemetery, Seokjin is by himself and surrounded by graves. He makes his way through, slowly but purposefully, following a path he's only recently had to familiarise himself with, but has already memorised.

It's like his feet take him there. He doesn't quite remember where his father and stepfather are buried but he knows that he has those locations written down somewhere if he wanted to find them. His mother's grave, however, is a memory deeply rooted into his being like it's been there all along, like it's a part of him now, like it's always been a part of him. He arrives at the grave and squats down in front of it like it's second nature, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. He holds the breath in his lungs for a long time before he releases it.

"Mom," he begins quietly. "I don't know what to do," he laments as he stares at the headstone. "Am I shooting myself in the foot by staying quiet? Would things be better if I say something?"

The cold winter air whips up slightly, blowing on some of Seokjin's hair. He licks his lips.

"I'm disappointing everyone. And I keep telling myself that it's fine because I'm keeping them safe, but I don't know if that's the case, anymore."

His mother doesn't respond.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm on the right track, and I feel like I'm fierce enough to save them. But sometimes I feel like I'm stranded on an island and it's only a matter of time until a wave comes and knocks me off my feet."

He sighs and looks down at the earth, and tries to find purchase in the soft, unreliable sand under his feet. He can try as hard as he likes, but he isn't going to find stability. The numbers he was once certain was set in stone are now as fickle and untrustworthy as the sand that betrays him.

"Please tell me what to do, mom," he implores, biting down on his lip. "I don't think I can do this alone."

Seokjin remains squatting in front of his mother's grave, eyelashes wet, until his feet start to hurt. He cranes his head back, looks up at the bright blue sky, and he parts his lips. Pulls in a long, deep inhale. Blinks away the last few salty tears left in his eyes before rubbing them lightly and pushing himself up on his feet. He bids his farewell to his mother's grave.

Then, he finally acknowledges the bouquet of red spider lilies someone had laid down for his mother, sitting atop the grave. He exhales lightly as he reaches down and picks it up.

The bouquet gets haphazardly thrown into the passenger seat when he climbs into his car to drive back to his apartment.

The next day, he returns to the cemetery after work. There's a fresh bouquet of red spider lilies laid down on his mother's grave. Seokjin presses his lips together as he stares at it, sticking out like a sore thumb with it's bright and blood-red petals. Seokjin was right. The bouquet that he'd found the day before was fresh, which meant that someone had only just placed it by the grave.

Either it was a coincidence that Seokjin had visited his mother's grave right after someone laid the flowers down, or they've been returning every day to put out new flowers.

And the bouquet in front of Seokjin's eyes are definitely new.

The following day Seokjin wakes up earlier than usual and drives by the cemetery, paying a quick visit to his mother's grave. He doesn't find any flowers.

After work, he makes a stop at the cemetery, and surely enough he finds a bouquet of red spider lilies.

"Mom," he laments that evening, his head hanging low and desolate. His hair hangs in front of his face but he keeps his eyes on the ground in front of him. "Mom, I'm getting desperate. Please tell me what I'm supposed to do."

He remains, squatting in front of her grave for a few more minutes, until the sky begins to darken. Until his knees begin to hurt and his feet start to ache. He sighs, heavily.

"The clock keeps on ticking, and I'm just... stuck here. I don't think I can escape this, Mom. I... I kinda want to give up."

He doesn't go to work the next day.

Or the day after.

He arrives at the cemetery but doesn't step out of his car. He parks it as far from the entrance to the cemetery as he can without ruining his visibility, and he stays there from dawn until dusk. He keeps his hawk-like eyes trained on the entrance. Watching out for who may enter the cemetery, who may leave. What they may be carrying with them. Whether it's a bouquet of red spider lilies or not.

Those first two days that Seokjin spends keeping watch like a stalwart sentinel, he sees no one. And at the end of the day when he finally steps out of his car and enters the cemetery, he finds nothing laid in front of his mother's grave.

On the third day, he decides to keep watch outside Floral-Lee, the flower shop where the red spider lilies were bought. He knows already that whoever purchased them to adorn the two murder scenes with had paid in cash and were clad in black and were virtually unrecognizable in any of the CCTV footages that depicted them, but this time Seokjin isn't going to rely on anything or anyone but himself. He sits in his car, his eyes trained and unwavering, his mind sharp and buzzing.

But no one purchases any red spider lilies today.

Or the day after.

When he returns to his apartment his movements are almost robotic, stiff, as he peels his clothes from his body and steps into his shower. The water is hot, scalding almost, as it batters down on his body, but all he registers is that the water is hot, and not that it's probably hurting him. His skin is tinged pink when he steps out but he dries himself off regardless, sits on the edge of his bed, and runs through his night-time routine as usual. Lotion is rubbed on his skin before his pyjamas come on, and his facial products are massaged into his face before he climbs into bed.

He makes sure to set the alarm on his phone to wake him up tomorrow at six, ignoring all the calls and texts he's missed and is ignoring.

There's just the tiniest pang of guilt reverberating in his chest, constricting around his heart just a little, but he smothers that feeling and kills it without even trying. He turns over in his bed, turning his back to his phone, and he falls asleep.

That night, he dreams, as he always does, of the little girl he thought he could save when he was thirteen. Of her blood dropping onto the concrete and causing red spider lilies to bloom around her and Seokjin.

In the morning, he returns to the cemetery, but this time he leaves his car behind and he walks, instead. Decked out in black and black only, his glasses on instead of his contact lenses, he looks nothing like himself. Just before he'd left his house he'd snatched up a black mouth mask and once the cemetery comes into view, Seokjin fishes it out of the pocket of his hoodie, securing the handles over his ears, pulling the mask up and over his mouth and nose. Then, he pulls his hoodie up and over his hair. He stays well away and already has a list of vantage points that he can keep watch by without having to stick to one for too long.

He hangs around near a bus stop, looking around as if he's waiting for a bus that seems to never come. He earns a few looks that he registers but ignores them all. He moves from the bus stop after a few hours.

His next vantage point is by a lamppost somewhere near the cemetery. He has his phone out and pressed to his ear and he's having a conversation to absolutely no one at all. He talks for a few hours like that, talking about everything and anything the layers of bullshit around the gold in his mind can come up with.

When Seokjin was fifteen, he'd gotten his first job walking dogs. He would go over to the home of the couple who lived a few blocks down at seven thirty in the morning, take the dog for a walk for half an hour before returning the dog to his owner and then heading to school. On one of those walks he had accidentally let go of Bom's leash and he ran off trying to chase down a squirrel that had somehow pissed him off. Seokjin scrambled to his feet and started running after them.

It was nearing eight, the time Seokjin was meant to bring Bom back to his owners and he still couldn't locate the damn dog, and he was just about to drop to the ground and let his legs rest when he heard the tell-tale barking that could only belong to Bom. He looked up and saw Bom, his leash held by a dude who looked like he could be a K-pop idol – who might've just jumped through a bush to grab Bom because he had a twig and three leaves stuck in his hair.

But that K-pop idol-looking dude with foliage in his hair and dirt on his school uniform holding Bom's leash was all the fifteen-year-old Seokjin needed to confirm that he was undeniably and irrevocably gay. He'd skirted around the idea that he may have been for a long, long time before then, but that guy was the nail that drove that idea home.

He'd thanked the guy profusely, introduced himself and Bom, and he'd wanted to speak to the guy, Minhyuk, more, but Minhyuk had to return home and clean himself up before heading to school.

The next day however, at seven forty-five in the morning, Minhyuk was waiting for him in the neighbourhood. Well, he said he was waiting for Bom, but whatever. The two of them sat on the curb with the sun still barely peaking over the horizon and the sky still a very pale, early blue behind the tops of the houses as they scratched behind Bom's ears and chatted together before they needed to head off to school.

Minhyuk was nineteen and in his final year of high school. He was going to study veterinary science at university and Seokjin had asked if that was why he put his neck on the line to capture Bom the day before, and Minhyuk had laughed and said it was just because he's a good guy.

This quickly became their morning ritual. They never spoke about it. Minhyuk would just stand up, brush himself off, say see you and then go, prompting Seokjin to realise that he needs to go, too. And then the next morning Seokjin would find Minhyuk waiting for him on the curb, he would sit down with him, they would scratch Bom's ear and feed him treats while talking about anything and everything.

And then the day before Minhyuk was due to move out of his parents' home to move into his dorm near his university, he gave Seokjin a hug and wished him all the best. Seokjin blurted out that he loved him and wanted to be with him.

"Ah," Seokjin says out loud, repeating the words Minhyuk had uttered over a decade ago, "thank you. I'm flattered, but I'm not attracted to guys."

He pretends to hang up on whoever he was pretending to have a phone call with. He stares at the screen of his phone for a brief second before he returns his gaze to the entrance of the cemetery to continue his sentry work.

"Was that the story of your first love?"

Seokjin spins on his heel, almost losing his grip on his phone as he does, and he comes face to face with Namjoon.

There's a dark, sombre expression on his face that Seokjin doesn't recognise. He presses his lips together and stuffs his phone into his pocket. "What are you doing here?" he asks slowly, his voice level and flat.

"Watching you. Everyone's worried about you and why you're not answering any calls or texts. And you're not turning up to work, either. So I decided to follow you and watch what you've been doing."

Seokjin's hand around his phone clenches tightly. He licks his lips. "How long have you been watching me for?" he asks, furrowing his brows.

"Last two days," Namjoon responds, his eyes unwavering in the way he stares at Seokjin, never once breaking their gaze.

Connections in Seokjin's brain come alive with electricity, sparking like livewire in the midst of the haze that was starting to settle in between every sulcus and gyrus of his brain. He swallows, hard, his throat suddenly becoming dry. He licks his lips. "It's you," Seokjin says as he shuts down every protesting thought in his mind. "You're the one I've been waiting for. The bouquets stopped coming because I started keeping watch. Who else could it be, but you?"

"Have you lost your mind?" Namjoon asks, the pitch of his voice lowering slightly. He doesn't sound angry, but Seokjin can see the creases between his brows, he can see the way his fists are clenched.

It doesn't faze him, though. "I lost my mind years ago," Seokjin laughs. "I'm cursed, and everything I touch turns to shit."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Namjoon says calmly, "but let's go home so that we can talk and be reasonable. Okay?"

Seokjin shakes his head. "No," he firms, taking a step back. "Who else is in on this? Yoongi? He's in a position to take my little brother's life. Or what if it's those two kids that Jeongguk is dating? Who else are you working with?"

The creases between Namjoon's brows deepen, his jaw pulls taut. "You're being ridiculous, Seokjin-ssi. Why would they want to hurt you? Why would I want to hurt you?"

"I don't know," Seokjin spits as he takes another step back. His shoulder blades hit a tree.

"Seokjin-ssi, please. Calm down," Namjoon beseeches, taking another step forward. "Think logically. You're good at that, right? You're the best attorney I know. You're the reason I-"

"I'm the reason why you wanted to be in criminal law. And I'm the reason why you wanted to work at our law firm, and why you refused to quit even though I made your life hell. You made so many complaints about me. I- I'm glad I didn't let you confess to me. It would've been a lie. You don't love me. You want to mur-"

"Seokjin-ssi," Namjoon's voice drops. "That's enough."

Seokjin curls his hands into fists that shiver by his sides and he bites down on his lower lip to stop them from quivering. He bites, hard.

"Do you really believe I killed Jang Jaewon? Hong Haejoo? That's just-" he scoffs in derision, "the most ridiculous shit I've ever heard."

"C-can you prove that you didn't?" Seokjin spits back, but his voice is quiet and small, unstable and tinged with a fear he can't curb. He holds onto the bark of the tree behind him, anchoring him as his knees start to feel weak. "You were the one who told me about the red spider lilies. You were the one who solved the riddle in the first crime scene. And the second anonymous letter. You- you were in a perfect position to pull all of that off."

Namjoon's jaw pulls taut as he stares into Seokjin's eyes, a mere few metres away. There are people walking by, minding their own business and getting on with their lives while Seokjin feels like his life is crumbling and rotting away. The water is up to his neck, now, and Seokjin has lost all hope he might've had about escaping the island he's stranded on. The water is up to his neck and it's weighing down on him, making it hard to breathe. "Seokjin-ssi," Namjoon utters lowly, "if you seriously believe what you're claiming, then I will calmly prove to you why you're wrong. Let's go back to my apartment. Or yours. Whatever."

Seokjin shakes his head. "No. We'll go to a café. Where there's lots of people."

"Fine," Namjoon huffs. "There's one just a few blocks down. Follow me."

He turns on his heel without confirming whether Seokjin was going to follow or not. He just starts walking, and Seokjin has half the mind to turn tail and run like the wind. But before he can put that plan into action, his feet start moving. The concrete ground feels like wet, waterlogged sand that slows him down and tries to swallow him whole. He keeps moving nonetheless, following Namjoon, keeping his eyes on Namjoon's back. His heart seems to slow down.

They walk into the first café Namjoon sees, and Seokjin follows him to the corner of the quaint shop, to a small table flanked by two cosy looking armchairs facing each other. Namjoon takes a seat at one and stares up at Seokjin blankly until Seokjin lowers himself and sits at the other.

"What do you want to order?" Namjoon asks as he turns his head to stare at the menu boards at the front of the café, his eyes flitting back and forth between possible choices. When Seokjin looks over, he realises that he can read the names of the hot beverages, but he can't read the prices.

"I don't want anything," Seokjin replies, returning his gaze to Namjoon's side profile.

"Are you sure? This time I won't complain about fetching coffee for you. I won't even charge you for it."

Seokjin just stares at Namjoon, who feels the stare and turns his head back to face Seokjin.

"Suit yourself," he says as he pushes himself up off the armchair and heads over to the counter.

Seokjin stuffs his hand down his pocket and fishes out his phone while Namjoon is at the counter, relaying his order to the barista with his back to Seokjin. He unlocks the device and looks at all the calls he's missed, all the texts he's been ignoring. He opens up his chat with Jeongguk.

To: Jeongguk
come to my place when u finish work

He pockets the phone and stares at Namjoon's back, his brows furrowed and causing a headache to brew behind his forehead, until Namjoon turns around and Seokjin quickly looks away. He stares at the table in front of him until Namjoon returns with a coffee and a muffin. "The muffin is for you," he says. "You like chocolate chip, don't you?"

Seokjin licks his lips and pretends he doesn't see the muffin.

Namjoon takes a sip of his coffee and stares at Seokjin over the top of his cup. Seokjin stares back and feels something twist in the pit of his stomach, but he ignores that, too. Namjoon lowers the cup and leans back in the armchair. "On December the thirteenth, I was at work. From eight-thirty in the morning to five. I didn't leave the building for lunch. If you don't remember that far back, I'm sure CCTV will jog your memory. Jang Jaewon was murdered at two in the afternoon. I couldn't have killed him."

Seokjin's throat goes dry and he wishes that he'd ordered something to drink, but he doesn't let that show. He just licks his lips and keeps his gaze strong and unwavering.

"On the twenty-third, I was at work, again, from eight-thirty until five. I had lunch with Jisoo. I went straight home, packed, and got on the train at six to head back to Ilsan to spend Christmas with my parents. Again, if you don't believe me I can give you proof. That I didn't kill Hong Haejoo, either."

For a few strained moments, neither of them speak. Namjoon lifts his cup of coffee again to take small, tentative sips as he allows the soft murmuring from the other patrons fill the silence between them.

Seokjin reaches forward and takes the muffin in his hands. He breaks off a small piece from the top and slowly puts it in his mouth. He chews slowly, and swallows slowly.

"What else do I need to prove to you?" Namjoon asks when Seokjin continues to stay silent. "That I don't have any intentions or desires to kill you or your brother? That even though you're a pain in my ass, I do truly love you?"

Suddenly, the muffin has lost all flavour and Seokjin can't taste the sweetness of it. He snaps his head up from the confectionary to stare, wide-eyed, at Namjoon, who looks just as calm and collected as he had when he'd sat down with his coffee. "Y-you-"

"Hmm? You want me to elaborate?" Namjoon raises his brows. "Alright, since you insist. You're smart, you're kind, you're funny, you're strong, you're all kinds of beautiful. I would follow you to the ends of the earth. You're a little bit insane and I'm pretty sure you were dropped on the head as a child, but whatever."

Seokjin's bottom lip quivers lightly before he bites down on it to still it. His hands curl around the armrests.

"Do you believe me? Or do you need more convincing?"

"You're an ass," Seokjin mutters in response. "You can't just end your confession like that."

"How was I meant to end it?"

He flicks his eyes up to meet Namjoon's, but instead he hones in on the light, almost subtle smile tugging on one corner of his lips. Then, he parts those lips and his tongue peaks out to lick them. Seokjin swallows, hard, and returns his gaze to Namjoon's eyes that feel like they're burning holes through his skin. He quickly looks back down at the muffin he'd almost completely forgotten about, and he snatches it back up, stuffing the rest of it in his mouth as he quickly and efficiently as he can. Then, he pushes himself up off the armchair, turns on his heel, and heads out of the café. Namjoon jumps up to his feet and follows after.

His arms pump back and forth as he strides through the neighbourhood, powerwalking back towards his apartment. He kind of wants to run, to sprint, but he knows that Namjoon who's following behind him will start running to and he doesn't really want to be chased, right now. Well, he's not opposed to being chased, per se, but his mind is still a groggy mess and there are neurons in his brain synapsing with other neurons they have no business synapsing with. He can tell that the connections his brain pieced together in the past hour or so were completely wrong, he knows that he'd completely jumped to conclusions and that all those connections are now detaching and trying their best to find something else to anchor to, and amidst his confusion he really does not want to be chased. In case he accidentally feels something he shouldn't, right now. Like fear.

Namjoon follows him all the way to his apartment, and only when Seokjin reaches his front door he turns around and faces him. He's a little breathless even though he didn't run. "Why are you still by my side?" he asks, his voice thin and strained. "I'm a piece of shit. All I ever do is cause you trouble."

"Yeah, you do."

He scoffs and punches him in the shoulder. "You weren't meant to agree."

"What was I meant to do? Kiss you?"

Seokjin licks his lips and looks down at Namjoon's shoes, feeling some unwanted warmth growing in his cheeks, his neck.

"Where's all your bravado gone? You used to be so shameless," Namjoon snorts. "Or was that all fake?"

"No."

"Then look at me," Namjoon orders, his voice turning quiet. Seokjin looks up from Namjoon's shoes and meets his eyes. "And tell me if you want me to kiss you."

"I'm your superior."

"That's great. Answer my question."

Seokjin swallows, hard. He looks down at the space between himself and Namjoon, at the way Namjoon is keeping just enough distance for Seokjin to feel comfortable. He knows, just by looking at this space between them, that if Seokjin told him to go, then Namjoon would go. He knows that if he doesn't say anything, Namjoon wouldn't assume he wants to be kissed. He knows, and it hurts him to admit it to himself, that he was wrong to ever doubt Namjoon's sincerity. He doesn't know why Namjoon is still here and why he still wants to be with Seokjin, but Seokjin is tired and his feet are anchored in the sand that's holding him back, and he wonders if asking for help would free him. So he gives it a shot.

"Kiss me."

Namjoon licks his lips and steps forward, into Seokjin's apartment, closing the door behind him. He reaches forward and takes Seokjin's cheeks into his hands, cupping them fully. For a brief second Seokjin wonders if he'd made a mistake yet again, if this was the wrong thing to do, if this would only crush the pieces of his broken heart into dust he has no hope of gluing back together later down the line. The numbers above Namjoon's head warn him of that.

Seokjin ignores the warning, and he leans forward. Namjoon takes that as his final cue and he comes forward, kissing Seokjin fully on the lips. Seokjin reaches up and grabs Namjoon's wrists as he starts to take steps backwards, into his apartment, bringing Namjoon in with him. His hands that were clasped around Namjoon's wrists now reach upwards and circle around Namjoon's neck, draping around him, and Namjoon lets go of his cheeks to wrap his arms around Seokjin's waist. He pulls, making Seokjin tiptoe as they press their torsos together.

He's breathing heavily when Namjoon pulls back, even though they'd barely done anything, had just pressed their lips together and nothing more. Namjoon slowly loosens his hold around Seokjin's waist until his hands settle on either side of him, pushing, pushing, until he pushes down and Seokjin drops. His bed materialises under his ass and he gasps like he hadn't even realised he'd arrived in his bedroom. He puts his hands behind him, planting his palms into the mattress, and looks up as Namjoon stands over him.

"Is this okay?" he asks as he leans over and holds Seokjin's waist again.

Seokjin nods, and Namjoon lifts Seokjin up just enough to move him back, pushing him down until he's lying on his back and Namjoon moves over him, his forearms flat against the mattress on either side of Seokjin's shoulders. And he slowly lowers himself as Seokjin angles his face upwards.

His stomach rumbles, loudly and achingly, and Namjoon rolls off Seokjin, onto the bed besides him, and he laughs out loud. He clutches his stomach as he laughs while Seokjin clutches his stomach in hunger. He pouts. "It's not that funny."

"It is," Namjoon wheezes. "It's so you. I ain't even mad."

"Stop laughing and get me some food."

Namjoon turns on his side and props his head up on his hand. He looks down at Seokjin and smiles lightly. "Yes, sir. I'm feeling chicken, how about you?"

His stomach rumbles again. "Yeah. Chicken sounds great."

Namjoon smiles down at him for a brief moment before he sits upright and then pushes himself up off the bed. Seokjin remains lying down across it, staring up at the ceiling as he listens to Namjoon's footsteps moving away from him. Then, he hears Namjoon speaking on the phone to order their food.

Seokjin brings his hand up, slowly, lethargically, and touches the tips of his fingers to his lips. They're soft and warm and a little plumper after kissing Namjoon. He licks his lips and they don't taste like his own. His fingers curl inwards and he squeezes his hand into a fist. Seokjin wonders if this was a mistake, too. If he should've said no to Namjoon. He keeps trying to tell himself that it was a mistake, that he shouldn't have kissed Namjoon, but the rapidly growing knot of nerves in his stomach forms a very strong case against his doubt.

"Take a nap," Namjoon tells him as he returns to the bedroom, pocketing his phone. "I'll wake you when the food arrives."

"I don't want to sleep," Seokjin props himself up on his forearms.

"You look like you haven't slept in days. You look ridiculous."

Seokjin pushes his bottom lip out and pushes his glasses up his nose. "You said I'm beautiful."

"I also said you're insane, which is just as true."

With a huff, Seokjin drops back against his bed and closes his eyes, turning to the side. He curls in on himself, pretending like he's going to get any kind of sleep between now and their chicken arriving. The mattress depresses with Namjoon's weight when he perches himself at the end of it, and Seokjin listens to him sigh heavily.

He listens to Namjoon's slow, sombre breathing. In, out. A deep inhale, a shallow exhale. Seokjin can't see his face right now but he's imagining it. He cracks open his eyelids and looks over his shoulder to glare at Namjoon's back. He can't see his expression, but he can see his lifespan. Forty-four days left.

"Hey, Namjoon," Seokjin whispers out into the quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any secrets?"

"Don't we all?"

"Answer my question."

Namjoon turns around, twisting at the waist and looking over his shoulder at Seokjin lying down on his bed. "I do have secrets."

"Tell me," Seokjin implores, "your secrets."

"Tell me yours, first."

Seokjin swallows, hard, and his doorbell rings. Namjoon rises to his feet and relieves the mattress of his weight, heading to the door to answer while Seokjin concentrates his efforts on sitting up. He shimmies himself to the edge of the bed and stands. As Namjoon carries the bags of chicken in he walks past Seokjin's bedroom and gestures with a flick of his chin for Seokjin to follow him. So he does, and they walk into the living room where he sets the bags down and pulls out the boxes of chicken onto the coffee table.

"Time to dig in," Namjoon announces as he sits down in front of the table and opens the boxes up. Seokjin sits down opposite him and he tucks his legs under him before he reaches forward and grabs a wing to sink his teeth into.

Namjoon cracks open the two cans of soda he'd ordered along with the chicken and slides one across the table to Seokjin.

They don't talk much. The air between them is heavy with the smell of chicken grease and the sounds of teeth ripping into crispy coatings fill the silence between them. Seokjin isn't quite sure if it's awkward or not, but he only really notices it when he decides he's had enough, and he stops eating.

"You're done?" Namjoon asks curiously, brows raised in disbelief.

Seokjin nods.

"I'm sure you can eat more than that," Namjoon prods him, gesturing at the few chicken wings still left in the box.

"I can, don't get me wrong," Seokjin defends himself as he takes a sip of his soda, "I just don't, you know, want to look like I'm three months pregnant."

Namjoon shrugs one shoulder. "Who cares? It'll disappear in a few hours."

"I don't want to wait a few hours," Seokjin protests, pushing his bottom lip out as he sulks.

"What are you in such a hurry for?" Namjoon asks flatly as he goes to pick up another wing. When Seokjin looks up at him, his lips pressed together like he's trying to hold back his tongue, Namjoon flicks his eyes back at him. The suddenness of it causes Seokjin to hiccup. And then, Namjoon offers a quick and infuriating half-smile before he gets to work on his chicken wing. He finishes it off before he speaks again. "I'll love you whether you have rock hard abs or a soft squidgy tummy."

The edge of the table suddenly becomes very fascinating. Seokjin pokes his finger against it and stares at it intently.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this shy. It's cute."

"I'm just- I'm just not used to this. To you. Being like this, I mean."

"This, being... affectionate? Open?"

Seokjin nods.

"Yeah, well, who do you have to blame for that? Meaningless harassment, inappropriate flirting, refusing to accept my feelings... hmm. Sounds like that was all you."

"Well," Seokjin huffs before he pauses because he doesn't really have much to say in the way of a rebuttal. "How was I supposed to know you liked me? You never showed it."

"I can show it to you now, if you want."

"What will you do to show it?"

Namjoon purses his lips and pretends he's in deep thought. "I would go over to you and pick you up. Then I would carry you to your bedroom. Finally, I'd fuck the living daylights out of you."

"Hmm," comes Seokjin's response, a tight-throated sound that he tries to stifle by readjusting himself at the table. He feels himself grow warm and he presses his lips together to contain himself, but he can feel himself falling apart at the seams. He's doing a terrible job at holding himself together but he wants Namjoon to think that he has some semblance of control in all of this. "You called yourself a romantic, didn't you?"

"I am," Namjoon replies quickly, planting his palms into the table and pushing himself up, leaning over it. "If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk through my garden forever."

"Disgusting," Seokjin spits. "What are you waiting for? Pick me up already."

A small and satisfied smile graces Namjoon's lips. "Yes, sir," he obliges before he ducks his head and stands to his full height, walking around the table to reach Seokjin's side. Seokjin looks up at him just as Namjoon reaches down and hooks his hand under Seokjin's knee, his other circling his shoulders. Then, he hoists Seokjin up.

Seokjin breathes out a quick gasp like he wasn't expecting it, like he wasn't sure if Namjoon would comply with it, but he quickly reaches up and loops his arms around Namjoon's neck as he walks, with Seokjin in his arms, through the living room and towards the bedroom.

And their eyes – throughout the short but heavy moment passing through rooms – are locked onto each other. Namjoon stares at Seokjin and Seokjin stares right back, his breath bated and waiting, waiting, for the moment Namjoon reaches his bed and leans over, dropping Seokjin onto the mattress. He comes down, too, one forearm propping him off besides Seokjin's head, his other hand running down the curve of Seokjin's waist.

"Things are getting really crazy," Namjoon murmurs, "and everyone's stressed as hell. I haven't felt this relaxed in months."

"Speak for yourself," Seokjin scoffs as he turns his head off to the side to pointedly look away from Namjoon, whose face is so close it's a miracle he isn't blushing as hard as Seokjin knows he is.

Namjoon pulls his hand up and uses his index finger to touch Seokjin's cheek and brings him back to face him. "Are you sure you want this?" he whispers into the space between their lips.

"Yes," Seokjin breathes.

"If you tell me to stop, I will stop," Namjoon reassures him before he closes the space between them and kisses him again, rolling his body down onto Seokjin. Seokjin leans upwards to accept the kiss, his arms coming up to hold Namjoon's body, his hands roaming over Namjoon's back.

And suddenly, Namjoon's hands push under Seokjin's body and snake around his ribcage, hugging him tightly, and then he's on his knees pulling Seokjin up and moving them further up the bed. He lets go of Seokjin and he hangs over Seokjin, hands bracketing his head, knees bracketing his thighs, looking down at him with a dark and unreadable expression on his face that Seokjin isn't sure if he's ever seen before – and it lights a fire deep in the pit of his stomach.

"Has anyone ever told you you're the most beautiful thing in this entire world?" Namjoon asks, his voice quiet and low.

"Literally all the time," Seokjin answers before he leans upwards and throws his arms around Namjoon's neck, tightening them, pulling him down. He slots their lips together and works Namjoon's mouth open, licking in. He pulls apart for a moment, pulls in a breath, and moves back in to kiss him again.

A small voice far in the back of Seokjin's mind protests quietly. It tells him to stop, to hold Namjoon at a distance, to keep him safe. That the closer Seokjin gets to him, the more it'll hurt when he has to let go. That when the sea finally swallows him, there'll be a raw and gaping wound too big to heal and fix itself. The voice keeps on protesting but Seokjin pushes it further away, cramming it into the recesses of his brain, and he tries to pretend it's not there.

Seokjin has made many, many mistakes. He's twenty-eight and he can't remember a single time in his life that he's ever done something right. He can't remember a single time that he wasn't afraid of inevitable consequences of actions he'd undertaken after outright ignoring the warning signs. He can't remember a single time he felt even a modicum of satisfaction and relief.

Except now.

His hands grip onto Namjoon's hips as the younger male fits them together, as he rolls his hips down onto Seokjin and continues to kiss deeply, urgently. Seokjin's fingers wander curiously along the hem of his sweater, edging along the soft material of it, and then he slips his hands underneath. Slides his palms up the sides of Namjoon's ribcage, pushing his sweater up.

Namjoon pulls apart from Seokjin and they both draw in a deep inhale as Namjoon sits up, his knees bracketing Seokjin's hips, and he covers Seokjin's hands with his own. He gives them a squeeze before he takes the hem of his sweater and in a slow, heavy movement, he pulls the sweater off.

The sweater is discarded onto the floor off the side of the bed just as Namjoon leans back down to kiss Seokjin, but Seokjin's mind is elsewhere, he's barely kissing back, his fingers digging into the thin layer of fat under Namjoon's skin just before he becomes firm.

And his hands move to Namjoon's chest before he starts to massage his pectorals.

Namjoon pulls back once again but leaves just a hairs width of space between their lips. He looks down at Seokjin through low-lidded eyes. "What is it with you and my chest?" he asks quietly, his voice low enough to send shivers down Seokjin's sides.

"Anime girl titties," Seokjin responds just as quietly, and he continues to massage the muscles of Namjoon's chest.

A low chuckle reverberates through Namjoon's ribcage. "You're a nutcase," he teases, pulling back even further. Seokjin parts his hot, swollen lips to complain but Namjoon shuts him up as he grabs the hem of the hoodie Seokjin wears and pushes it up, taking the t-shirt underneath along with it. Seokjin helps the process, and within seconds he's shirtless, too. He reaches up to take Namjoon's face in his hands and continue kissing him with everything he can muster, but Namjoon has other plans. He lowers himself down and takes one of Seokjin's nipples in between his lips.

Seokjin gasps and leans his head back as Namjoon licks at his nipple, his hands and fingers teasing his other, and Seokjin has never felt something quite like this before. He's had sex before, sure. He's topped and he's bottomed, he's given oral and he's received it, but he's never had his nipples played with before. And he's not sure why he's never experienced it before, but it feels fucking phenomenal and he can't, for the love of himself, hold back the moan that escapes his lips.

"That feels good?" Namjoon mutters against his chest.

"Mm," Seokjin sounds.

He feels Namjoon's thick lips stretching into a smile against the skin on his chest and he presses his lips together, tightly, to contain himself somewhat. His hands find Namjoon's head and he runs his fingers through Namjoon's soft hair, gripping in as he squirms his legs a little against the bedsheets. Namjoon continues to tease his nipples with his fingers and his tongue until Seokjin releases another moan, and he leans back for air.

"That wasn't fair," Seokjin breathes, letting go of Namjoon's hair to plant his forearms against the bed, propping himself up. He then wraps his arms around Namjoon's torso. "I'm the one who should be worshipping your tits."

"Go ahead," Namjoon allows as Seokjin to connect his mouth to his chest, and he begins to suck on Namjoon's nipple. He swirls his tongue around the bud, flicking at it, and he uses his other hand to massage his pectoral. He squeezes on it, he massages it, and then he hears Namjoon sigh. He releases Namjoon's nipples from his lips and leans back a little to see him with his head thrown back, his neck stretched out in front of him.

But he quickly leans back in and meets Seokjin's eyes. He adjusts himself on Seokjin's lap and moves in to kiss him again, but there's something else on Seokjin's mind. He snakes one hand up Namjoon's back, cards his fingers through Namjoon's hair at the back of his head, and grips on tightly. Then, he pulls Namjoon's head back, forcing his jaw up, exposing his throat. He leans up and presses his parted lips to Namjoon's throat, kissing hard and urgent.

"Seokjin..." Namjoon moans. His own hands are gripping at the base of Seokjin's skull, fingers pressing in to his nape desperately. "Your lips..."

Seokjin pulls back and looks up at Namjoon. "My pornstar lips?" he asks with a cheeky smile.

"You remember that, huh?" Namjoon angles his jaw back down, meeting Seokjin's eyes.

He nods in response. "I remember everything when it comes to you."

"Even my complaints?"

"Especially your complaints, you little shit."

Seokjin presses his hands against Namjoon's chest again, but this time he pushes Namjoon off of him, forcing him onto his back on the mattress. Seokjin comes up, twisting at the waist to roll over Namjoon, straddling Namjoon's hips, and slowly, maddeningly, he lowers himself onto Namjoon's crotch. He steadies himself with his hands on Namjoon's chest again, squeezing his pectorals again for good measure, and just because he can.

Then, he grinds his hips down, and his weight rams into Namjoon in all the right places, a rush of something unearthly, something so heavy and dizzying, runs up and down Seokjin's body. He feels all his blood racing downwards, his head feels light and uncoordinated, but he grinds down again, and again. He feels so hot, he's so turned on, and he can't stop.

Namjoon groans, his hands gripping onto Seokjin's hips, fingers pressing in hard, desperately. He rocks his head back and his jaw goes up, exposing his throat once again. Seokjin bites down on his lip as he rolls his hips again, and he feels his hardening cock colliding with Namjoon's separated by their clothes that suddenly feel offensive to keep on.

"Take your pants off," Seokjin orders.

"Can't," Namjoon mumbles. "There's a big heavy person sitting on me."

Seokjin scoffs and lifts himself up slightly on his knees. Namjoon takes this opportunity to sit upright, shimmying himself back on the bed, his hands still grasping Seokjin's hips, until his back hits the headrest and he's brought Seokjin along with him. Then, he gets to work on pulling down Seokjin's sweatpants and boxers. Seokjin raises one knee at a time to help Namjoon discard them onto the floor.

"Your pants," Seokjin reminds Namjoon as the younger male suddenly becomes transfixed on Seokjin's goods. He reaches forward to take Seokjin's cock into his hands but Seokjin quickly intercepts, grabbing Namjoon's wrists and pulling them up, pinning them onto the headboard on either side of Namjoon's head. "Uh-uh. Not yet."

"Fuck," Namjoon breathes out.

Seokjin leans in and presses a soft, hot kiss to Namjoon's cheek as he lets go of his wrists and finds the front of Namjoon's jeans, unzipping them, pulling them down his legs. Namjoon quickly kicks them off.

"Fuck, Seokjin-" Namjoon pants quietly towards Seokjin's neck as he wraps his arms around Seokjin's ribcage, pulling their bodies together, warm skin flush against warm skin. "You're so beautiful. You're so fucking gorgeous."

"You too," Seokjin breathes against Namjoon's ear. "Do you know how hard it's been not to grab you and have my way with you all this time?"

"Pity I thought you were only joking."

"How could you think I was joking?" Seokjin grazes his teeth along the shell of Namjoon's ear. "You're gorgeous. You're so, so pretty. And smart. And kind. And hard-working."

Seokjin grinds his hips down once again, but this time there's no barriers in between them, nothing to stop his skin from rubbing against Namjoon's skin, nothing to stop Seokjin's cock from rubbing against Namjoon's stomach, nothing to stop Namjoon's cock from rubbing against the inside of Seokjin's thigh. "Do you have, ah-" Namjoon pauses to pull in a sharp inhale, "do you have condoms? Lube?"

"Yeah," Seokjin replies quickly. "Check in my nightstand."

Namjoon leans over to the side and blindly fumbles about until he finds one of the drawers in Seokjin's nightstand and pulls it open. Struggles and blunders about until he finds what they're looking for.

He takes one of the condom packets into his hand, the bottle of lube in the other. "Why do your condoms look dusty but your lube looks fine?"

"You know damn well why."

Namjoon laughs. "How long has it been since you fucked something that wasn't your own hand?"

"Don't make me call the police on you."

Namjoon laughs again, and Seokjin has half the mind to climb off his lap and pull all his clothes back on. "The condoms are still in date, so I'm good to go so long as you are."

"Yeah. I'm ready."

Namjoon smiles up at Seokjin and flicks his eyes back down as he fiddles with the bottle of lube, snapping open the lid, and then pouring a generous amount of the slick liquid onto his fingers. Then, he reaches around Seokjin, and Seokjin leans forward, connecting his lips to Namjoon's neck. He wraps his arms tightly around Namjoon's shoulders.

Then, he feels one of Namjoon's slicked up fingers sliding along his perineum as he kisses and sucks on a patch of Namjoon's skin, but when those fingers keep skirting about, teasing him, Seokjin whines a small noise of complaint against Namjoon's neck. He hears Namjoon laugh softly just before he feels Namjoon's finger pressing against his rim, and slowly but firmly, pushes his finger in.

Seokjin holds his breath in his chest as Namjoon pushes his finger deeper in, slowly pulls it out, and then back in. In, and out, until Seokjin releases his breath and he rolls his hips down on Namjoon's lap, urging him to continue. So Namjoon pulls his finger out and then presses the tips of two fingers to Seokjin's rim, and slowly he works his way in. The sensations Namjoon's fingers bring cause Seokjin's legs to shiver, and his fingers dig deep into the muscles of Namjoon's back, and when Namjoon crooks his fingers inside him, Seokjin gasps and feels his body tense up, and he shivers.

Namjoon continues, moving his fingers a little faster now, working Seokjin open slowly but surely, until Seokjin is panting and he can feel his skin growing warmer and warmer, but Namjoon comes forward and presses his lips to Seokjin's collarbones, licking at the sweat forming there. "You ready?" he whispers against Seokjin's skin as he continues to push his fingers in and pull them out at an infuriating pace.

"Yes, yes, god-" Seokjin gasps as Namjoon crooks his fingers inside him again, hitting his prostate just right and causing another full-bodied quake. "Hurry up and- and fuck me."

With another laugh, Namjoon pulls his fingers out and grabs the condom he'd left on the mattress behind him, and he carefully pulls the packaging apart before he rolls the condom onto his cock. He grabs a hold of the bottle of lube and pours some more into his hand which he uses to lubricate his cock. Then, he looks up at Seokjin through low-lidded and heavy eyes. "I would've never thought, all those years ago when I saw you in that mock trial in university, that I would get to be with you like this. It's amazing."

"You know what else would be amazing? If you could shut up and put your dick to work. Or do you want me to do all the work?"

"That would be nice. Since you always make me do your work in the office."

"Fine, watch me work."

Seokjin raises his hips and lifts himself off Namjoon's lap, and the younger male quickly adjusts himself, hands steadying his cock as Seokjin holds himself over, and when Namjoon grabs at his hips, he slowly lowers himself, working his cock inside him slowly, carefully.

But the burn and the stretch hits him altogether all the same, and Seokjin pulls in a sharp inhale as he continues to lower himself down onto Namjoon's cock. He pauses when his entire body tenses up from the pressure and the pleasure, and he squeezes his eyes shut. He lets go of Namjoon's shoulders and grabs onto the headboard on either side of Namjoon's head, and then he continues lowering himself.

Then, finally, he's sitting on Namjoon's lap. For a moment, neither of them move, neither of them breathe evenly, and the silence is only broken by Namjoon choking out his breath. "God," he pants, his voice high-strung, "fuck. Fuck. You're so tight. Feels... feels so good."

Seokjin parts his lips and releases his breath. "Mm," he mumbles as he wills his thighs to obey him, and he slowly pushes himself up, up, until he's no longer sitting in Namjoon's lap. Then, he lowers himself again.

Namjoon groans and tips his head back against the headboard. "Seokjin. Fuck. Seokjin," he pants out Seokjin's name like it's all he can think of, like it's all he remembers right now. Seokjin moans in response, his hands squeezing tightly against the headboard because he doesn't trust his limbs to stay strong right now. Namjoon brings his jaw back down and cracks his eyelids open to stare dazedly into Seokjin's eyes. "You look so good... riding me."

Seokjin is near breathless. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Namjoon confirms and squeezes Seokjin's hips, his hands moving back, holding onto his backside. His hands continue to press in, to massage. He pulls Seokjin towards him slightly, and the sensations that spark lightning bolts up and down his body spur him into moving, into pushing himself up off Namjoon's lap and down again, until he feels none of the burn and all of the pleasure from Namjoon's thick cock moving in and out of him. He moves faster now, slamming himself down onto Namjoon's lap, and suddenly there's a string of colourful words leaving both of their lips as they try to contain everything within them.

"F-feel good?" Seokjin asks as he grinds down.

"Mm. Yes. I- I'm gonna... I'm gonna-"

"N-not yet," Seokjin slows down a little. "Wanna get off with you."

Namjoon understands immediately and fumbles about blindly until his hand finds the bottle of lube that had strayed away from them. He flicks the cap open and pours some into his hand, snapping the cap shut and throwing the bottle off to the side. He wraps his hand around Seokjin's cock and begins to pump him up and down. Seokjin's legs shiver again and he bites down on his lips to hold back the moan he wants to release, but he continues to fuck himself on Namjoon's cock as Namjoon takes care of him. They both start to feel more and more desperate, moving faster, harder, and neither of them care anymore about how they sound until Seokjin can't hold himself together anymore and he collapses on Namjoon's lap while his orgasm ripples through him, spilling come onto Namjoon's lap. Namjoon gasps as he gets off inside Seokjin, too, and his arms go limp.

Seokjin leans forward and rests his forehead against Namjoon's. They breathe together, panting for air but sharing it between them all the same, until Seokjin thinks his breathing has become regular again. "That was..."

"Amazing."

"Yeah," Seokjin breathes.

They continue to pant and regain some of their strength for a few more moments until Namjoon shifts and shuffles under Seokjin, and he helps Seokjin up, pulling himself out of him. Seokjin leans back and rolls off him. Namjoon pulls the condom off him, tying it at the end, and he slowly swings his legs off the edge of the bed. "Let me go clean us up," he tells Seokjin weakly as he disappears off to the bathroom. Seokjin listens to the sound of the taps turning on, of Namjoon washing something, and returning with a damp washcloth that he uses to clean Seokjin with. "Where do you keep your underwear and stuff?" he asks.

Seokjin points lethargically to one of his wardrobes. "The bottom one," he indicates. Namjoon walks over to it, pulls the drawer open, and picks up two pairs of boxers.

"I'm borrowing one of your boxers, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

Seokjin props himself up against he headboard just enough so that he can look forward and watch Namjoon.

He's naked from head to toe. His skin is a beautiful tan colour, glistening with sweat every time he moves and his muscles ripple under his skin. His shoulders are broad and his physique is sturdy, strong. He's tall and his legs are impossibly long. The muscles in his thighs pull taught as he pulls a pair of Seokjin's boxers onto himself, and then he turns around to face Seokjin with the other pair.

Namjoon isn't particularly muscular- not like himself or Jeongguk, but he's built like a truck all the same, thick in all the right places, muscle where it needs to be, fat where it looks absolutely beautiful on him. His pectoral muscles look delicious and firm, and if Seokjin wasn't too tired right now he would want to bite them. He climbs onto the bed again and shimmies the pair of boxers onto Seokjin, dipping down to press a kiss to his collarbone before he pulls the covers up and over them. Seokjin shuffles in the bed until he drapes one arm over Namjoon's stomach.

"You can put your hand on my tits. I know you want to," he tells Seokjin, and Seokjin can't hold back the laughter that bursts past his lips.

But he does exactly what Namjoon suggests, bringing his hand up to hold onto one side of Namjoon's chest.

"So? You've been harassing me for a long time. Did I satisfy?" Namjoon asks cheekily.

"Hmm. I did all the work this time, so..."

"You wanted to."

"Yeah, I did. It was good."

"Just 'good'? Was I at least better than Hoseok?"

Seokjin shivers. "Ew. Don't mention that name to me. I will fire you."

"Right," Namjoon laughs and curves his arm over Seokjin, hugging him tightly. They tangle their legs together. "I love you. But you knew that already."

"Mm. I love you too. You know that already."

"What about... what about being with me? Do you want to be with me?"

"Like... in a committed relationship?"

"Yeah."

Seokjin presses his lips together and listens to the beating of Namjoon's heart in his chest while he stays silent for too long, because Namjoon shuffles and starts to loosen his arms around Seokjin.

"You... don't want to be with me."

"N-no, it's not that," Seokjin quickly rectifies, his arms around Namjoon tightening, refusing to let him go.

"Then what is it?"

"It's just... it's just not a good time."

Namjoon stares up at the ceiling with a blank look on his face for what feels like way too long, and the clouds that were once fogging his mind start to come back. But he fights to keep his expression clear. Doesn't want to poison the air with his bullshit, not now, not while Namjoon is in his arms like this. He wants to hold Namjoon to him, like this, forever and ever, but he knows that it's impossible. He's going to have to let go sometime.

Whether he can come back to Namjoon or not depends on whether Seokjin is successful in keeping him safe.

He props himself up on one forearm and leans over Namjoon, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you, Namjoon. I have done for a long, long time. You're more important to me than you know. But this... this just isn't a good time."

Namjoon angles his head slightly, looking up at Seokjin, their lips mere centimetres apart. "Why not?"

"I... can't tell you."

"Does this have to do with... those secrets you mentioned earlier?" Namjoon wonders softly, curiously.

Seokjin nods.

Namjoon turns his head back to look up at the ceiling again. He licks his lips. "I had a dream I saw you running through the woods. But you didn't look afraid. You just looked really, really determined."

"What was I running from? Or towards?" Seokjin asks quietly.

"I don't know," Namjoon replies, slowly closing his eyes as he runs a hand up Seokjin's arm, his fingers trailing lightly along his skin. Then, he settles his hand on the side of Seokjin's neck. "But I hope you know... I would do anything for you."

He pulls Seokjin closer and presses his lips against Seokjin's. It isn't like their first kiss, or their second kiss, or any of the kisses shared between them when they were wrapped up in lust and love. This kiss is deep and weighted and filled with something dark and melancholy. It's just lips against lips, closed mouthed and chaste, but it feels heavier than any of the kisses Seokjin has ever had before.

When he pulls away he looks deep into Seokjin's eyes, brows drawn in resolve, eyes steeled. "I'll wait for you. For when it is a good time. For when you're ready. I'll wait."

Seokjin slides his hand over Namjoon's cheek, smoothing his thumb over his cheekbone. "Thank you," he whispers to Namjoon, and leans in one more time for another kiss before Namjoon tucks his face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and they try to sleep.

But tonight, as all nights, Seokjin doesn't sleep very well. He dreams of rushing to help that young girl when he was thirteen, of cradling the body that was dying in his arms, crying, wondering if there would ever be a way to change the numbers. He dreams of crying and looking into the face of the first person he'd ever witnessed the death of, and the face, this time, belongs to Namjoon.

His blood drips onto the concrete ground around them, staining it dark red. From the pool of blood, red spider lilies grow and bloom.

In the period that Seokjin had damn near lost his mind, had stopped coming to work in the hopes of catching red-handed the person leaving behind those wretched bouquets at his mother's grave, he'd almost completely lost track of time. Seokjin doesn't know how far he'd managed to fall, or how desperately he chased after something that already proved time and time again that it was in total control here.

Whoever it was, they chose victims that fit perfectly into their little game. Victims whose initials looked like positions they could be killed in. Victims who had body parts taken from them just to send a profound message. And for some reason, Seokjin was in the middle of it, even though Yoongi didn't quite believe him.

But then again, why should he? Seokjin has damn near lost his mind. He's fallen so far that he doesn't even know how he's meant to think, how to pretend his mind isn't half crumbled apart. All he knows is that he's chasing after something that he might not ever reach. He's chasing, desperately, something that he knows is chasing him right back. And it's going to pick off Seokjin's loved ones, one by one, before it gets to Seokjin.

He's determined, so determined, to stop it. He will not stop chasing after it. He'd already burned to the ground the version of himself that was hesitant and uncertain, and he's already risen from the ashes of his former self, determined to burn down everything in his path, but now he wonders if he'd burned away his logic, too. He has started down a path he can't return from, and now he wonders if it was the right path to go down at all.

It's the fourteenth of February. The days he spent with his mind half crumbling away seems to melt together into one indiscernible film-roll in his mind. It doesn't feel like nineteen days had passed. It still surprises Seokjin to think about it. It doesn't even feel real.

It only feels real when he walks into the office at five minutes past nine on the morning of the fourteenth and looks upon Namjoon, sitting at his desk, looking like everything good Seokjin was ever graced to know, with numbers floating above his head that say he has only thirty-five days left to live.

It feels like just yesterday they read ninety days. It feels like just last week they read sixty-one years.

Everything feels wrong. Seokjin's starting to wonder if he's not actually dreaming.

"You okay?" Namjoon asks, his brows raised curiously as Seokjin approaches his desk, limbs feeling heavier than usual to carry around.

"Mm. Yeah," Seokjin mutters as he sits down on his chair.

"Have you spoken to Yoongi-ssi yet? He's been bugging me about you."

Seokjin adjusts himself in his chair and grumbles. "Tell him to piss off."

"Seokjin-ssi. It's serious," Namjoon huffs.

"What does he want to talk about?"

"You," Namjoon tells him, and Seokjin sits upright in his chair, looking across the office to meet Namjoon's eyes. "He wants to talk to you about why you suddenly stopped coming to work and stopped answering everyone's calls and texts. I mean, no matter how you look at that, it's shady as fuck."

"I tried to take matters into my own hand. Tell him that. Tell him he needs to focus on keeping Jeongguk safe, and that this isn't the time to be suspicious of me."

"Jeongguk is safe. Trust in the police a little more."

Seokjin pushes his bottom lip out and stares down at his desk. "Whatever," he huffs and continues to sulk for a few more minutes until Namjoon breaks the silence.

"It's Valentine's Day today," he mentions nonchalantly. "Let's go on a date."

Seokjin looks up. "You're more eager about this than I am. Even though I was the one who harassed you endlessly."

"Like I said, I liked you sincerely from the very beginning. It's not surprising that I'm eager. Is it a yes or a no to the date?"

"I told you-"

"Yeah, I know what you told me. We could just go to watch a movie. We don't have to talk much. It doesn't need to feel like a date," Namjoon tries to reason. "You can even choose the movie we watch."

"Fine, you got yourself a deal. We're watching a documentary on the migration patterns of calliope hummingbirds."

"What the fuck."

"Take it or leave it, you bastard."

"Jesus Christ. Alright, fine. We'll watch whatever the fuck you just said."

An hour after they leave work, Seokjin and Namjoon arrive at a nearby cinema, and they stand in the middle of the lobby trying to find a queue to join that isn't too overcrowded by young couples. They finally decide to just jump the gun and join a queue and hope for the best.

"I'm not seeing this documentary about birds anywhere on the movie listings," Namjoon purses his lip in deep thought as he scours every listing throughout the lobby.

"Yeah, I was chatting shit."

Namjoon rolls his eyes. "I should've known. What do you want to watch instead?"

Seokjin squints at the movie listings, straining his eyes to make out the words on it. He skims through the titles aimlessly, knowing next to knowing about each of them. But his eyes fall upon one title that hits the spot, and Seokjin is convinced. "That one," Seokjin points to the listing. "The Dude in Me."

"Do you even know what it's about?" Namjoon questions as they near the front of the queue."

"Nope, but I hope it's a porno."

Namjoon just sighs and says nothing. They reach the front of the queue and Namjoon orders two tickets to the movie Seokjin had decided on along with overpriced popcorn and giant cups of soda. Seokjin takes out his card to pay. "Hey, I'm the one taking you out," Namjoon stops him from paying.

"Yeah, but I'm older than you."

"Act it, then. If you do, I'll let you pay."

Seokjin grumbles, but he'd be a liar if he didn't say free snacks and a movie that is mostly like a porno was the best.

As it turned out, The Dude in Me wasn't a porno. It was a movie about two guys swapping bodies with each other. Seokjin was disappointed at first, but he ended up enjoying the movie. Namjoon, on the other hand, fell asleep with his head on Seokjin's shoulder. Seokjin would've pushed him off, but him being asleep meant Seokjin could eat all his snacks, too. Which he did. And when Namjoon woke up at the end, Seokjin convinced him that he'd eaten his snacks before falling asleep. Namjoon believed him.

And in the car going home, they talk about the movie even though Namjoon slept through most of it. Specifically, what they'd do if they swapped bodies with someone else.

"What if you swapped bodies with a girl?" Namjoon asks tiredly.

"Masturbate. Hook up with a guy. Apparently female orgasms feel better than male orgasms. And play with my boobs."

"Do you ever have thoughts that aren't dirty?"

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous. What about you? What would you do if you swapped bodies with a girl?"

Namjoon pauses for a moment, his face turning blank. "Probably the same stuff you'd do," he responds honestly, and Seokjin laughs. Namjoon laughs too. "What about... if the two of us swapped bodies? What would you do first?"

Seokjin glances over at Namjoon through the corners of his eyes, ever so briefly, and then they return to the road ahead. If he'd swapped bodies with Namjoon, the first thing he'd do is see how much time he has left. Or would that even work? If he swaps bodies with Namjoon, would he still have the ability to read lifespans? And even if he did, would his own lifespan become visible to him if he looked at his body?

He shakes his head; there's no point mulling over this. It'll never happen. "I'd play with my tits. Your tits," is what Seokjin settles on saying. "What about you?"

His remark doesn't faze Namjoon. "I would..."

"Look at me naked in the mirror? Admire my reflection all day long? Understandable."

Namjoon laughs lightly as Seokjin pulls up outside Namjoon's apartment. He turns to Namjoon.

"Alright. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow," Seokjin says as Namjoon unclips his seatbelt and frees himself.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow," Namjoon returns, and just before he opens the passenger side door, he leans in towards Seokjin and gives him a peck on the cheek.

It catches him off guard and he pulls back, a hand over his cheek where Namjoon had stealthily kissed him. He watches, stunned, as Namjoon circles around the car, makes his way over to the front entrance of his apartment complex. Then, when he no longer sees Namjoon, he switches gears and drives back to his own.

That night, like all nights, he doesn't sleep very well. The body dying in his arms has the face of Jeongguk. Red spider lilies grow and bloom from the blood-stained concrete.

On the night of the fifteenth, Seokjin gets another text from numbers he doesn't recognise.

From: Unknown Number
Get ready, Seokjin.

From: Unknown Number
You're more important than you know.

Seokjin stares at the screen, paused and tense. The numbers and letters seem to swim around, his vision starts to fluctuate, but he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, breathing out deeply. When he opens his eyes, nothing has changed.

You're more important to me than you know, Seokjin had told to Namjoon during the night they spent together.

He lowers himself onto his mattress where the two of them became intimate, where Seokjin allowed himself to lower his guards, to be vulnerable, to open up his heart and let it crumble. His hand smooths over the sheets.

He feels his heart break and turn to dust.

The skies are grey and gloomy on the morning of the sixteenth, and there are police officers standing guard outside the apartment Jeongguk lives in. There are officers in the area to boot. Seokjin knows that Taehyung and Jimin are in there, too, and that Jeongguk won't be too bored cooped up in his apartment all day long. Seokjin instead joins the patrol because he can't stand the thought of being anywhere else when his baby brother could possibly be a target of murder.

Namjoon and Hoseok are also helping out, but they're inside the apartment. The skies are grey and gloomy and it looks like it could start raining at any given moment.

But Seokjin stays as he is, his mind buzzing at a mile per second, so fast that his hands are trembling in his pockets and he can't stand still. He walks around the same spot for hours until he takes a twenty-minute break to eat and use a restroom.

He returns and continues to stand guard.

When night time rolls around and the skies turn dark, another officer comes to him and takes his post, urging him to get some rest. Seokjin doesn't need rest, he will stand guard to protect Jeongguk forever if he has to, but he supposes he can take a quick break. He pulls his phone out to text Namjoon, but he sees that there's a message from him already.

From: Joon
i'm heading back to my apt to sleep

From: Joon
but if u need me, i'll come.

That was dated for half an hour ago. Namjoon's probably already in bed.

Seokjin makes his way over to the police station, not feeling even the slightest amount of lethargy. The officer at the entrance recognises him immediately and lets him in, and Seokjin makes his way through the station that looks almost empty as most of the officers are on patrol. There are only a few left, right now, and they all greet Seokjin and tell him to just go straight through to locker rooms where everyone knows Jeongguk fills his locker with sweets and snacks, but only he and Jeongguk know the password to.

As if this was his own workplace, he makes his way to the locker rooms. He'll grab some sour gummies to give him a sugar rush and keep his brain alert throughout the night and possibly pick some up for Jeongguk, too.

He flips the lights on in the locker room, and he goes cold from the inside out.

Lying in a pool of blood in the corner of the locker room is a body so horribly mutilated that Seokjin, or anyone for that matter, would ever be able to recognise. The limbs have been cut off and arranged in a sequence Seokjin doesn't dare come closer to inspect. The body's mouth is wide open and it's lack of a tongue makes Seokjin feel sick down to the pit of his stomach, and he quickly pulls his hand away from the light switch, grabbing the door frame to steady himself. His vision starts to blur, coming in and out, and he slaps a hand over his mouth. He turns around to hightail it out of there, but when he looks at his hand on the doorframe, he sees red.

Peeling his hand off the frame and inspecting his palm, he sees blood all over it. He looks up at the wall. There's blood on the light switch. There's blood on the wall. And in the midst of all the blood splattered onto the walls, a single bunch of red spider lilies are taped up.

He wretches and tries his goddamn hardest not to vomit. He turns on his heel and runs out of the station, ignoring the few officers left in the station. He tries not to think. He tries to shut off his mind. The killer could be anywhere. The killer could be in the station. Seokjin doesn't know. Seokjin doesn't know anything.

He knocks, urgently, on Namjoon's front door, begging to be let in. Namjoon answers it, looking tired and pissed off, but when he drinks in Seokjin's crazed appearance he snaps his eyes wide open.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asks, grabbing Seokjin's arms.

"I... I saw- I saw a d-dead body. I- I- I ran I didn't know what to do. There's blood on my hand. I didn't know what to do. I... I'm gonna vomit."

He pushes Namjoon out of the way and runs to the bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the toilet. He grabs the rim and starts to empty out his stomach into it. Namjoon is by his side in a moment but his words start to sound muffled and incoherent, and he doesn't even bother trying to understand what he's saying. Seokjin leans back after vomiting up everything he'd eaten in the past two days, after heaving up acid, and he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Then, the bathroom turns sideways and everything goes black.

The blood on the linoleum floor of the locker room stains the floor, and from the pool of red liquid, red spider lilies grow and bloom.

"Oh, hey, Seokjin. You're awake," Namjoon says softly when Seokjin's consciousness returns to him. His vision feels fuzzy and he feels so, so weak. He tries to sit up, but his arms shiver and he drops back onto what seems to be Namjoon's bed. Namjoon helps him up and hands him a cup of water to drink. Seokjin grabs the cup and guzzles all the water down, holding his stomach to stop it from freaking out.

He hands the cup back to Namjoon who settles it down on the floor and shuffles closer to Seokjin. Seokjin licks his lips and bites down on the inside. "What happened? How long have I been out for?" he asks weakly.

"Only about half an hour," Namjoon replies, his voice quiet and concerned, his brows drawn and furrowed. Dark shadows are cast over the tops of his cheekbones. "You witnessed a dead body, came here and passed out."

Seokjin tries to pull in a breath, but he shakes so hard that Namjoon grabs his arms again and tries to still him. "Who... who was it? Who was murdered? I didn't recognise the face. Or body."

Namjoon continues to hold Seokjin. "It wasn't Jeongguk, that's for sure. I spoke to him on the phone a few minutes ago."

"Oh, thank god. He's okay," Seokjin sighs in relief and his quaking subsides, just a little.

"Don't relax just yet," Namjoon tells him, and Seokjin snaps his eyes open, facing Namjoon with wide and anticipating eyes.

"What? Was... was the killer not caught?" Seokjin asks slowly, hoping like hell that Namjoon tells him what he wants to hear. But the way Namjoon's frowns grows deeper only makes Seokjin's stomach sink further and further. He wants to vomit again, but he has nothing left to expel.

"No. Worse," he replies, his expression turning dark. "The police... the police think it's you."

"What?!"

Namjoon nods. "Yoongi called me ten minutes ago and asked if I knew where you went. They've already searched your apartment. The officers in the station saw you enter and run out. Your fingerprints are on the wall where the body was found."

"B-but I... I didn't..."

"I know," Namjoon tries to assure him, but Seokjin doesn't feel any less afraid. "I told them I haven't seen you. Let's... figure something out."

Seokjin looks down at his lap and unclenches his fist. The blood that was on his palms, his fingers, half an hour ago are no longer there. Undoubtedly, Namjoon had cleaned his hand after he'd passed out. He bites down on his lip, bites hard, until it starts to hurt and he tastes metal. "Like what?" Seokjin asks, his voice impossibly quiet and small.

"I don't know. But you need to eat something. You look really pale."

He hoists himself off his bed and disappears out of the bedroom, presumably going to the kitchen to fix together something for Seokjin to eat. In the meantime Seokjin swings his legs off the side of the bed and stands despite the way his knees are shaking and his muscles feel like there's nothing there, and he takes a step before becoming dizzy and nearly losing his footing. He steadies himself with a hand on Namjoon's nightstand.

He takes a few breaths before he straightens back up and tries again.

The first drawer in the nightstand is open by just a sliver, and Seokjin couldn't care any less about privacy right now, so he pulls the drawer open and finds, amongst some skincare products, a tiny folded up piece of paper. He picks it up and unfolds it.

It's the marriage document he'd found on the internet and printed out all that time ago. There's Seokjin's name and signature that he'd penned onto it before slipping it into Namjoon's desk, but now there's Namjoon's name and signature etched into it, too.

Seokjin bites down on his lip again and draws more blood. He folds the paper back up, puts it in his pocket, puts his shoes on, and quietly makes his way to the front door.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into the apartment. "This isn't how I thought this would go."

He opens the door silently, slips out of the apartment, and shuts the door just as quietly.

Pulling his coat tighter around him, he walks back to where he came from. Yoongi looks up when he walks into the station and slams down the phone, hanging up on whoever it was he was speaking so urgently and desperately to.

"Seokjin. What the absolute fuck."

Seokjin offers him a small and sheepish smile. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and holds them out in front of him, wrists held together. "I'm a murder suspect, now. So do your job. Arrest me. Read me my Miranda rights."

Yoongi furrows his brows so harshly that lines appear in between them and his frown grows impossibly deep. "Did you do it?" he asks quietly.

"I guess you'll find out in court."