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‘I'm okay
I'm not your baby
If you think I'm pretty
You should see me in a crown
I'm gonna run this nothing town
Watch me make 'em bow
One by one by one’
-Billie Eilish, You Should See Me In A Crown
Namjoon’s parents were killed in the Spring of Seokjin’s twentieth year, an assassination in the middle of the night when they were being driven back to their home from a meeting, a clean bullet through the back of both their heads. There was something strangely beautiful about the funeral, Seokjin thought, watching as Namjoon’s mother’s hair blew gently in the wind from the open coffin, a white dress covering her form, body arranged so that the wound couldn’t be seen. His father wasn’t very different, dressed in a three piece suite, a pale blue tie matching the ribbons on his mother’s dress, and if Seokjin didn’t know better he would think they were sleeping, if he hadn’t seen the bodies covered in blood when Namjoon first found out about his parent’s fate.
The younger wasn’t crying, in fact didn’t look to have any emotions at all, his face solidified in a neutral, blank expression, eyes never leaving the bodies in front of them as a priest read a passage from the Bible. Seokjin could almost laugh at the sight, the pair lying in the coffins as far away from religious as you could be, but he knew Namjoon’s mother liked to go to church at holidays. He had been told stories of how Namjoon had to pretend as a child that he hadn’t seen corpses falling to the floor in front of him from his father’s doing, had to pretend he was nothing but a normal son of a normal pair of adults, pretend he hadn’t been a sinner from the moment he was born.
It was why Namjoon gave up on religion, he supposed, but Seokjin knew despite that he always linked it to his parents, and so here at their funeral it was only fitting for a priest to be reading, the words flying into the silent air with nothing to stop them. There was quite a crowd around them, all dressed in black, but nobody was crying, everyone just as silent as the son the duo left behind in their absence, not a single soul really mourning from the loss. There wasn’t much good in the world that they brought, not really, ruling out of fear instead of love, raising their child like a soldier, a politician, an heir, not really a son in what the word should mean.
Seokjin knew Namjoon felt like he had been brought up more by the staff that worked in his household, his advisor Lee Hyun who had been groomed for years to be the perfect advisor, accompany Namjoon for the rest of his life, his reign over the company. The Kims had nobody but themselves to blame for the lack of melancholy at the occasion, their own doing the reason nobody was screaming, crying, sobbing. After all, they had no family left but Namjoon, and Seokjin knew in his heart that his lover only held the slightest affection for his parents, only because he was told he should.
“…Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die’…”
The words almost made Seokjin scoff, his hand permanently intertwined with Namjoon’s beside him, resisting the impulse to make a single sound. Listening to the priest talk about how the righteous were alive in spirit in heaven brought forth all sorts of emotions, and none were fitting for a funeral. The overruling one was anger, anger at the fact that Namjoon’s parents had never been what he needed, never truly tried when it came to their son, instead brushing him off onto staff, onto nannies and teachers.
There wasn’t a thing about the two people in front of him that would grant them access to heaven if it were really the final point of humanity, the pair almost undoubtedly destined to suffer in hell for the rest of time, repenting and repaying for everything they did wrong. They killed without remorse, not when necessary but when they wanted to, treating life like something fleeting, something expendable. They treated the world as theirs, took what they wanted and ignored how their actions impacted the people around them, greed blurring their vision, their perspective. Had he been alone, Seokjin would have spat in the coffins before closing the lids and bidding them farewell with a smile and a wave, but he couldn’t do that here. Not when there were media reporters hidden in the crowd, people snapping pictures of Namjoon from every angle, probably to write articles about how he was clutching the hand of a man instead of addressing the fact he was an orphan.
“…For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal…”
The only time Seokjin’s hand left the younger’s was when Namjoon stepped forward, approaching the coffins alone once the priest was finished with his words, the freshly dug graves waiting for their new residents to be lowered into the dirt. Still there were no tears, no emotions, only a blank face as he stared for a moment at the bodies, a hand reaching out briefly to brush against his mother’s pale, cold cheek. Seokjin knew he was the only one to see the flash of something in his lover’s eyes, only visible because he could read the other like an open book, allowing him to detect the hint of regret before Namjoon was backing away again, nodding at the people waiting for their cue to cover the coffins, to lower them into their final resting place.
Hands became linked again, and Seokjin leaned into Namjoon’s side as they watched the people do their job, already attendees around them starting to leave, some offering condolences, others not uttering a single word. Most of the people around them had only known the pair as business partners, and with the way they treated their workers not much affection or regard was left pinned to their names, only here as a formality, as a duty. Soon, Seokjin knew, they would work under Namjoon’s thumb, would most likely treat him with the same emotions if he follows in his father’s footsteps in terms of behaviour.
Eventually it was just them, just Seokjin holding onto his lover tightly as dirt is piled higher and higher, hands still intertwined. It was silent other than the sound of the soil hitting wood, and then other piles of soil, until the newly replaced earth is being flattened by the tapping of shovels, until flowers are being placed under two matching headstones, the bright colours a weird contrast to grey sky, grey stone, grey expressions. White roses, two large bundles, mixed with violets and pink lilies and blood red carnations, and Seokjin knew they were only there for decoration, not because anybody really has the need to give them, to make the passing of the duo just a little bit easier.
The writing on the headstones was fitting, Seokjin was pleased to see, felt reward at the detached words, the fact anybody could see that there was no love held. It was brief, had no ‘In loving memory’, or ‘Loved by many’, or ‘Leaves behind a loving son’, just names and dates and nothing else. In a sense he was proud Namjoon hadn’t tried to enforce a fallacy that he had truly cared for his parents, proud the younger hadn’t spouted some words of grief just because of the situation, especially when Seokjin was aware that Namjoon wished he loved his parents, but he just… didn’t. There was nothing else to the matter, the fact that they hadn’t been loveable in the slightest, hadn’t given their son an opportunity to feel like really their son, not just an employee they live with, a figure with only use in business.
The staff packed up their things, and soon they were leaving too. Some of them were talking with one another, laughing at their conversation, the sound of voices getting quieter and quieter as they walked away from the graves they just filled, turning through the gate so Seokjin couldn’t see them anymore. It left him and Namjoon as what felt like the only living things left in the vicinity, not even the sound of birds coming from the trees, no insects or squirrels or anything of the sort. It was just them, and they were alone, the younger still staring at the recently disturbed ground.
Seokjin didn’t know what to say, which he realised when he registered the fact he knew many things he could say, but none seemed fitting, none sounded the way they should. It was rare he was speechless, normally knowing at least something he could say in any situation, despite how awkward he was feeling, despite any panic or botherance or something else along those lines. Conversation came easy when he had been taught since he was a child to integrate, to appease people and say what others wanted to hear, his own parents not exactly stellar examples of the role, but still better than Namjoon’s.
After all, while Namjoon had been given the freedom of a prisoner, only really allowed to break free when he managed to persuade them to send him to boarding school, Seokjin’s life had been relatively leisured. It still wasn’t normal, not with the way he was moulded into a template they wanted him in, to become someone valuable to marry away, almost a commodity in exchange for financial security, but he had been allowed to make decisions, choices, learn what he wanted as long as he also kept on top of knowing to cook, to clean, to care for another better than himself. His parents had known their legacy was ending soon, knew they were the last people left of the name, and knowing Seokjin liked men when they found him kissing a boy at a gala had made them change their way of thinking. Instead of an heir, he would be passed on to someone more powerful, someone who would then take over the money Seokjin brought, provide his parents with more than enough funds to be comfortable.
He almost resented how his life had really followed his parents’ plans, how he had fallen in love with the most powerful suitor you could possibly find, them disgustingly proud when he first brought Namjoon to his home. The younger knew about it, Seokjin had told him early on as a warning about how his parents might act, grumbling about their blueprints for his life and promising that it wasn’t why he loved the other. It had ended in the both of them just sharing complaints about the people who were meant to raise them and yet failed at the task, sharing the grief that came from a ruined childhood.
“Am I a terrible person?” Namjoon asked, out of the blue as he stayed with his eyes set on the ground. “I’m not mourning their deaths, but I’m mourning what comes next.”
The confession was nothing Seokjin didn’t already know, but he wasn’t going to tell Namjoon that, not when the younger looked at him with an aura of almost fragility, cracks in his expression when his mask was finally dropped. Namjoon was someone who was always thinking, an academic, a philosopher, and Seokjin knew that, was thankful with the way it complemented his more impulsive attitude to life. The downsides were that nothing could happen without the younger agonising over it for hours, thinking and thinking and thinking, almost placing himself through self-torture with the speed his brain was working at, the ideas he was being fed.
“You could never be a terrible person,” Seokjin replied, squeezing where their hands were still clutched, watching as his lover blinked slowly, frowning in thought. “Come on, let’s go.”
It was rare that Seokjin was able to visit Namjoon’s house, especially when his parents died in ignorance of their relationship, Namjoon not wanting to unleash the inevitable homophobic tirade that was destined to happen if they found out their son liked males. Maybe that was why they hadn’t separated from the moment they arrived at the graveyard, the fact they could finally show the emotions they held for one another, throwing it in front of the dead bodies like a massive ‘fuck you’. Even so, Seokjin had visited once or twice when the elder pair had been away, and the house looked exactly how he remembered, just as cold and empty.
The sound of the front door opening felt to almost echo in the empty hallways, the paintings on the walls looking so much darker when almost all the people in them are dead, only Namjoon remaining like the last saint present at the last supper. Shadows looked so much more daunting in doorways, under windows, cast from behind closed curtains, the home seeming as though it was abandoned years ago, not just a few nights before. Even when Namjoon’s parents were alive, the house never looked like it had been really lived in; furniture placed too perfectly, details too pristine, too controlled. It was like the setting of a virtual reality, and Seokjin could realise why his lover never really liked it, never felt at rest between its walls.
“I don’t want to live here,” Namjoon stated, barely having taken more than one step inside, and Seokjin raised an eyebrow in question at the declarative. “I’ve already told Lee Hyun that I’m looking for an apartment, and he’s sent me the best possible matches,” the younger said in an exhale, as though he was rushing to say everything all at once.
Thinking over it, Seokjin knew this was a good idea. One of the first things he had learned about the other was his distain centred around his childhood home, how uncomfortable he was in his own skin every time he passed the threshold, no matter his age, no matter the situation. Even with his parents gone, Seokjin knew that Namjoon still harboured the same emotions for the place, would rather be almost anywhere else but here, where he was controlled like a puppet from the day he was born. Being away would allow him to flourish, would allow him to build himself up without the pressure of always feeling his parents’ eyes, little reminders of their legacy, and it almost relieved Seokjin to know Namjoon was already determined to get away.
“That’s good, Namjoonie, I’m glad,” the elder said with a small smile, knowing how much his lover hated his childhood home to its core, everything it stood for, made him remember.
A small smile of relief was what he received in return, a miniature pleased upturn of the lips, and it was enough to say how much this meant to the other. His parents were dead now, nothing could change that, and all he could do was move forward to become the person he needed to be, not the person the older pair tried to force him to morph into the skin of. Seokjin knew Namjoon would have the pressure of everything falling on his shoulders very soon, and it was his shoulders alone that were to carry the burden of everything, the company, deals, allies, everything and anything his father had left to him as the sole heir, as well as anything Seokjin brought with him.
“I want you to come with me,” Namjoon confessed with open eyes, and Seokjin felt his heart skip a beat, his smile widening even more across his lips. “I want you to be with me, wherever I am.”
“Of course I will,” he agreed without a second thought, watching as Namjoon exhaled in what looked like relief, a pointless emotion when Seokjin loved him as much as he did.
It wasn’t hard to agree, not when Seokjin was waiting to be asked to always be by Namjoon’s side, something he suspected would happen more and more now that his parents weren’t here to judge, to criticise, to do something worse. The decision came as easily as it was to breathe, the latter even easier as soon as they had left the house hand in hand, having not even walked further than the foyer, leaving behind dust and bad memories for something better.
They practically decided on their new home within the next evening, staying the night in a luxurious hotel room overlooking a twinkling city, now Namjoon’s twinkling city, a bed covered in the softest sheets, a bottle of red wine in a bucket of ice. Namjoon needed change, Seokjin knew that, knew that the path to healing would require change, and the modern apartment in Gangnam they had chosen could easily contribute to that, a big change from the old house further out in Ilsan. It was enough to fit them comfortably, three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a large kitchen, a dining room, a lounge with windows with a beautiful view. It was worth the small fortune they spent, only a dent in the money the pair now had to their names, and Seokjin knew it would be an idea they would never regret.
In the transition, they never even went back to the house. While Namjoon was easing himself into the business he now ran single-handedly, Seokjin arranged for people to be paid to bring the things they wanted from the house, the majority of belongings left in the old building, them having no plans to actually sell it when it could have another use other than to live in. Armed with his lover’s exclusive black credit card, Seokjin designed the home from scratch, choosing the furniture, the decorations, the light fixtures, colour schemes, everything they would need to be happy, to be comfortable, and Namjoon had looked so spellbound once it was completed, had showered Seokjin in so much love that he felt as though he was drowning in the best way imaginable.
As much as they were happier where they were settled now, Seokjin could still see Namjoon suffering before his very eyes, and he felt almost helpless to stop it. It was in the way he was coming home later and later in the evenings, leaving earlier and earlier in the mornings, having less and less days of as he sold himself to his commitment to the company he was left behind. It made Seokjin feel useless in his own home, the home they shared between them, able to do nothing but watch as his lover practically wasted away, losing muscle, becoming gaunt, eyes darkening at the same pace as the skin below them.
It had been two months; two months and Seokjin woke to an empty bed, the third time this week, not a sign of Namjoon in their bedroom. The lights in the hallway were off, which meant he must have at least come home for a moment, or was still here and somewhere else, Seokjin knowing he had left them on as he always did for his lover, wanting to at least make the home seem welcoming even if the elder was asleep. It was the middle of the night, he could tell from the fact that it was dark outside, the floor to wall windows displaying the city outside, Seoul never sleeping even when the sky was inky black.
He thought about whether he should get up, try and see if Namjoon was in the apartment, but his bed was so warm even if his partner wasn’t there to make it warmer, sleep a tempting thought. With that argument in his head, Seokjin was about to let his eyes fall shut again before he heard a sound, a small clutter probably from the kitchen, the solid stone floor unforgiving if you dropped something. It was what prompted him to move the blankets away from his body, shivering when his bare skin felt the air, dressed only in a loose pair of pyjama trousers that probably belonged to Namjoon, their belongings always shared by this point.
The prickling of his skin prompted him to take a second to slide on a robe that had been resting on the armchair in the corner of the room, the red silk gliding across his skin as he pulled it over his shoulders, leaving it loosely hanging open even when he tied the belt in a rough knot. At the door, he barely stopped as he slid his slippers over his feet, walking out the open entrance to peer into the hallway, feeling a small nudge of apprehension in his gut.
Although their apartment was secure, positioned in a gated community with guards both inside and outside the buildings, Seokjin knew he couldn’t rule out the idea of a home intruder, especially considering Namjoon’s job, the role he had just inherited. With one of the most powerful criminal companies in the world being taken over by someone who wasn’t even twenty yet, Seokjin knew people were watching, trying to decide if the son of such a renounced tyrant was going to follow in his footsteps. His suspicions, however, were dashed when he heard another item being dropped onto the floor, a familiar voice letting out quiet curses.
With a small sigh, Seokjin turned the corner to allow him to look at the open kitchen, the figure that moved to sit on one of the leather cushioned stools at the counter, slumped over the marble surface like there wasn’t a bone in his body. Only the small lights near to the oven were on, dull white light shining from behind Namjoon, Seokjin not able to see his lover’s facial expression, but he could imagine the lines marring his face, the exhaustion in every feature.
With a lack of better words, Seokjin could admit to himself that the other looked almost… defeated. It was hard to see, especially when Namjoon always looked so collected and sure he was doing something right, his moral compass so calibrated he could be eligible to be a judge in a court. The dark halo around his lover was something Seokjin had never seen, had hoped to never see, the figure in front of him he knew to be taller than Seokjin looking so small, like he wanted to just shrink and shrink until he disappeared all together.
There was a plastic tupperware on the floor, and Seokjin couldn’t see much of the floor in the low light but he was fairly certain he would be met with part of the food he had cooked for dinner, japchae strewn across the tiles. Namjoon must have been trying to get some of the meal he missed, probably accidently knocked the container off of the side, and Seokjin knew these sorts of things bothered Namjoon to the core. It wasn’t like there wasn’t more of the food in identical tupperwares in the fridge still, but if the younger had been having a bad day then Seokjin knew this would just work to upset him further, Namjoon always cursing at his clumsiness, the fact he managed to ruin so many things so easily.
Seokjin’s eyes caught a shake of broad shoulders, perhaps from the cold, but more likely from Namjoon’s emotions, and it almost broke Seokjin’s heart to see the other like this. He was still dressed in his suit, probably the one he had worked in all day, blazer slung over the top of the counter with his phone half peeking out of the pocket. God only knew what the time was, and Seokjin knew the other was probably more than tired, especially considering how little he had been sleeping for days on end.
“What are you doing, Namjoonie?” He finally decided to ask, walking further into the room to reach his lover.
At the sign of his arrival, Namjoon almost straightened his back as fast as a bullet from the barrel of a gun, rubbing a hand quickly over his face. He didn’t respond immediately, gave Seokjin enough time to make his way slowly to the other’s side, a hand gently touching the younger’s arm. From here, Seokjin could tell the other hadn’t been crying, but there was still badly hidden misery written all over his face, Namjoon seeming too tired to really try and hide how he felt.
“Oh, hyung,” he said quietly, wide eyes looking up at where Seokjin stood next to him. “Um, I was just…” he trailed off, and Seokjin took the time to look at their surroundings again, following the line of his lover’s vision.
In the dark, he had missed the bottle of alcohol that was on the counter a little distance away from where Namjoon was seated, but now Seokjin was closer he could see how the dark red liquid was almost disguised against the shadowed walls. There was a glass set next to the bottle, already with about an inch of the drink at the bottom, but judging by the amount left in the original container Namjoon hadn’t drank much, at most a sip of what he had already poured.
“Is this the ruby port that Lee Hyun bought us?” Seokjin asked with a hum, moving slowly over to the glass and bringing it to his lips to taste.
“Maybe?” Namjoon sounded unsure as the elder swallowed a sip, humming again at the taste before he offered the glass to his lover, Namjoon just looking confused at his actions.
Even though Seokjin was worried about the other, alcohol in the middle of the night alone never being a good sign, he didn’t want to force the other into telling him something, make him feel uncomfortable, or like the elder was disappointed with his actions. That was the thing about Namjoon, for as much as he was an academic, an almost formidable force of nature; he could be sensitive to emotions, especially from the people around him. Being angry wouldn’t achieve a thing, at least wouldn’t achieve anything constructive, and Seokjin knew he would need to be soft if he wanted to know the inner workings of the other’s head.
“What’s going on?” The elder asked quietly, moving again to his lover and this time stopping behind him, leaning forwards to loosely wrap his arms around Namjoon’s neck, mouth close to the other’s ear.
It was the right idea, and Namjoon almost seemed to melt into the contact, head moving back to rest against Seokjin’s shoulder, arms becoming slack at his sides. The silence wasn’t awkward, it was nice, in a way, and Seokjin knew that Namjoon needed time to find the words he wanted to say, knew he always struggled to express himself when he was this tired. That was the thing about the younger, he needed to find the perfect explanation for everything, and it worked well when he was wide awake, when his head was healthy and energetic, producing the most beautiful words imaginable. When he was like this, almost like he was burned out, Namjoon struggled, didn’t want to say a thing when it wasn’t a hundred percent accurate.
“I just…” The younger started, but the sentence again dropped off into silence, and Seokjin knew the younger was overworking his already exhausted mind.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said quietly, pressing a small kiss to Namjoon’s cheek in comfort, only able to see half of Namjoon’s profile as he showed a small smile. “Just speak to me,” he coaxed, and the other sighed, breath leaving his lungs in a deep exhale.
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Namjoon admitted with a small, pitying laugh, and Seokjin only pressed another kiss to honey skin, letting his lips linger.
“Whatever is on your mind, sweetheart, and I’ll listen,” Seokjin practically whispered, and it summoned another sigh from Namjoon’s chest, his eyes fluttering shut.
There was another pause, and Seokjin began to sway from side to side, trying to bring Namjoon comfort in the rocking motion. He could practically see the steam coming from his ears as the cogs in his brain turned, but the elder didn’t comment, just held his arms around the other’s neck, kept his weight against the other’s back as a soothing pressure, something to help ground him to the present. Namjoon had the habit of just letting his brain run, and Seokjin wanted to avoid him being too overwhelmed, keeping a fraction of the other’s attention with his constant presence.
“I don’t think I can do this,” was what Namjoon began with, and Seokjin stayed quiet, just letting the other pour out his problems before he provided any vocal comfort or advice. “The whole company thing,” the younger added, and Seokjin gave a small nod for him to continue. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I hate having to do everything that comes with the job,” Namjoon admitted. “I feel like my skin is being stretched thin over my bones, and everyone wants something from me, and I don’t think I can do it.”
It was heartbreaking, knowing the other felt like this, especially when Seokjin knew he had been watching the other deteriorate for a while now, had let it come to this point. He had always known that the other dreaded the time when it became Namjoon’s own responsibility to manage his late parent’s company, the one he had been groomed from birth to inherit, to eventually rule over. Seokjin just hadn’t known the extent which the job was eroding the other’s insides, and it made him feel terrible, having missed the slow suffering the other had probably been facing for years, only now the symptoms showing.
“What can I do to help?” Seokjin quietly asked simply, letting Namjoon take the question and find any answer that worked.
“Nothing,” Namjoon said, choked, as though the word had fought its way out of his mouth without permission, tasting bad on the tongue and leaving a bitter aftertaste. “There’s nothing,” he repeated, and Seokjin’s chest was getting tighter at the sadness in the way the other spoke. “I’m alone in this and I feel like I’m letting everyone down because I was meant to do this for my father, finally do something the way he wanted me to, but I can’t,” he finished, and at the very end his voice broke, crackling like his whole throat had shattered into a thousand glass pieces.
Seokjin let the other have a minute, let him choose how to present himself, not wanting the other to be bursting with emotions that made him feel even worse. In the mean time, the elder let his mind run, thoughts wandering all over his head like a restless traveller, trying to find the perfect place to stay. Of course he had known Namjoon was under pressure, it was an ensured factor what with the fact he had just taken over a multi-billion won company, but Seokjin hadn’t even thought about the expectations Namjoon was pinning on himself all stemming from his father.
The man really had been a terrible person, and Seokjin was more and more thankful the other was gone, dead, buried in a coffin under metres and metres of dirt. He was never outwardly abusive to Namjoon, but Seokjin would testify that there had been things the older man did that were damaging, stayed with Namjoon since he was a child. Just because his father didn’t physically or verbally hurt him, the neglect probably had about as severe as an effect, and it wasn’t something they had ever deeply talked about, the marks left in Namjoon’s mind by parents incapable of love.
“You know,” Seokjin began quietly, lightly moving his fingers in circles where they were rested on Namjoon’s chest, trying to provide clear comfort without being overbearing. “Just because your father did something one way, doesn’t mean you need to do it too,” he reminded the other in barely a murmur, Namjoon bringing his hands up to interlace their fingers together over his shirt.
“How do I change?” The younger asked in a small voice, gripping onto Seokjin like he was a lifeline, like he could source energy from where their fingers met.
Hearing the other sound so small, almost child-like, made the need to do nothing but protect the other rear its head in Seokjin’s chest, prompting him into pressing another kiss to the other’s skin. There was nobody he loved as much as Namjoon, nobody in the world, and it meant he had given himself to the other in heart and soul, nothing he wouldn’t do to make his lover happy. He wanted to help with whatever he could, wanted to make the other feel less like he was falling apart, Seokjin using his heartstrings to patch the other up until he was whole again.
“Well,” he started, quietly thinking of what he could say. “You don’t have to do everything alone for one,” he suggested, knowing Namjoon was hanging onto every word. “You have so many people willing to help lighten the weight on your shoulders. You have Lee Hyun, you have all your staff, you have me, Namjoonie,” Seokjin reminded him, a small squeeze of his arms to punctuate the words. “I’ll do anything you need me to.”
It wasn’t a hard thing for Seokjin to say, the words laced only with truth. He knew that if he had even the inkling it was needed, he would throw himself in front of a bullet for the other, would use himself as a human shield if it meant keeping Namjoon safe, in one whole piece. In his head, he knew his lover would do the same, Namjoon demonstrating with every instance that he would keep Seokjin away from something he deemed dangerous, would always try and ensure their safety in everything that he did.
“But hyung, I don’t want you to get hurt,” Namjoon said quietly, almost a little forlornly, and Seokjin gave a small huff at the words.
“I’m made of tougher stuff than you think I am, dear, I promise,” he reassured his lover, Namjoon making a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat.
Falling into silence again, Seokjin just concentrated on the way Namjoon’s chest rose and fell as he breathed, shoulders subtly moving in the same motion, up and down in a rhythm that Seokjin’s heart slowly matched to. His neck was beginning to hurt with the way it was bent, but Seokjin wasn’t about to move, wanted to give all the comforts he possibly could. Despite that, it was almost like Namjoon could sense his discomfort, because he was soon slowly moving, spinning the seat of the stool until they were facing one another, warm hands coming to rest under the open robe on the bare skin of Seokjin’s waist.
Looking at his lover, the elder couldn’t help but stare into Namjoon’s eyes, the way he was looking up from his seat with such affection, such warmth in his gaze that was back and stronger than Seokjin had ever seen it before. It almost took his breath away, and Seokjin knew he loved the other as much as he physically could, probably would never love someone to this extreme ever again in his life, every single one of his metaphoric eggs in one big metaphoric basket.
Slowly, Namjoon brought a hand up, resting it on Seokjin’s cheek with the most delicate force possible, the elder echoing the movement almost instantly. Gently, Seokjin circled his thumb over the edges of his lover’s features, trying to pour affection into every single touch, trying to show just how much he loved the other with every fibre of his being. He wanted Namjoon to know he was someone to depend on, someone the other could trust with anything and everything, the foundations of an already stable building that could just have a little bit more support.
“Share my job with me,” Namjoon murmured out of the blue, and Seokjin almost froze in his movements, not quite sure what the other had just said, whether it was a mishearing or mistake.
“Pardon?” The elder asked, staring at the way Namjoon’s eyes darted to the floor and then up to stare right at Seokjin, pupils gleaming.
“Hyung,” Namjoon breathed, and it made Seokjin realise he had heard correctly, that Namjoon had really said what the elder thought he had.
Namjoon wanted him to share his job? Namjoon wanted him, Seokjin, to share his role of being one of the most important figures of business in the whole of Korea? Just the idea of it made the elder almost want to laugh, the thought outrageous when he mulled it over his mind, over and over and over. Seokjin was just Seokjin, someone raised to marry rich and become a house husband; someone his parents had never thought would take on responsibility like chairing a multi-billion won worth company. Namjoon must he so tired his mind was feeding him ideas that sounded good for two minutes but really would be disastrous, because Seokjin sharing his power sounded…
“I trust you most in the world, hyung,” Namjoon continued to speak, Seokjin feeling that his lips were parted open in shock, but he couldn’t focus enough to close his mouth. “I want you to share my job, I want you to be by my side as I make decisions,” the younger continued, eyes showing nothing but honesty and Seokjin didn’t know why Namjoon wasn’t realising the other wasn’t suited for this. “I want you to have the opportunity too, especially when I’ve seen you hyung, you’re so great with people and I know you’d be amazing.”
“Namjoonie,” Seokjin said slowly, trying to organise his thoughts enough to speak, trying to think of what to say to express everything he was feeling. “Are… Are you sure? I’m not…” He tried to begin, but at the pause of his words Namjoon took the opportunity to talk again.
“I’m so sure of this, hyung,” the younger promised, Seokjin falling silent. “I know you have the skills needed to do everything you need to, and the fact you’re worried makes me feel more confident than ever because it means you won’t take the offer because of the power,” Namjoon explained, and Seokjin hated that the other made such sense, sounded so right even though he was going against Seokjin’s every thought. “You’ll do the best job because you’re not selfish, you won’t try to do something just for the reward, and I know you have the skills to do it.”
Seokjin resented Namjoon in that moment, because all the words which were coming from his lips sounded so correct, cursed the other for always being so smart. The idea sounded like a great thing, sharing the weight of the other’s job, taking on some of the responsibilities and lightening the load. Despite that, Seokjin couldn’t help the doubt that crawled its way into his head, the doubt that had been there for as long as he could remember, the underlying thought that he just wasn’t enough.
Seokjin hadn’t been raised to be a businessman, even if the skills he had been tutored in could be applied in that manner to a certain degree. He had been taught etiquette and social conduct not for meetings but for impressing suitors, had been taught to seek lies and find the truth to gain social power and twist people around his fingers. His lessons in cards, gambling, politics and anything o the sort were all to allow him to fit into higher society, the traits his parents deemed important for him to impress people around him, and his teachers had probably never imagined any of the skills would somehow peg him as the perfect candidate to be a high-up businessman.
“I…” Seokjin stammered, eyes wide as he looked at Namjoon, who still hadn’t broken their connected line of vision. “I don’t know what to say,” he confessed, trying to search for the right words to say. “Namjoon, I’m not…”
He didn’t know how to explain, because the other would just dismiss the idea that Seokjin wasn’t enough, even if it was something the elder deemed to be true. Namjoon was like that, with a heart far too big for his body, far too big for the role he was meant to be playing in life, the job he was fated to be entrusted with. It made it difficult to explain his worries when he knew the other would just disagree, would oppose everything that came from Seokjin’s mouth. It had happened before, when he tried to explain why he couldn’t do something and Namjoon hadn’t made his opinions on Seokjin’s reasoning in any way subtle.
“Just say yes,” the younger urged, and Seokjin could see the genuine light in the other’s eyes, how convinced Namjoon was that his idea was in no way flawed.
Battling his self-doubt was the dire need to never let his lover down, never do something to make his spirits sink, especially when Namjoon was now always under such stress from his job and responsibilities. Seokjin didn’t want to shut down the younger’s idea, not when the glistening of his eyes betrayed the hope he felt that Seokjin would accept. He never wanted Namjoon to look as defeated as he had just moments ago, and Seokjin knew in order to avoid that, he should just do whatever the other asks, shoving his own worries aside.
“Okay then,” the elder finally accepted, resigned to the idea. “Yes.”
Even though he had accepted, that didn’t mean Namjoon couldn’t then ask him to stop when the other realised how unfit Seokjin was to the role the other wanted him to play, and in that situation the elder would gladly step down. This arrangement probably wouldn’t last for long, not with how inexperienced Seokjin was, how unsuited he would be revealed to be. Until then, Seokjin hoped he could provide some support to the other, help him through everything he needed while he corrected his footing in his new role, so that when Seokjin eventually become more of a burden than an asset, Namjoon could handle everything himself.
“I never tell you enough how much I love you,” the younger said with a smile, pulling Seokjin gently with a hand on the back of his neck to lean forwards, allowing their lips to meet in a sweet, soft brush.
“I know, Namjoonie,” Seokjin promised, a small smile on his lips. “I love you so much, more than anything.”
That night, Seokjin had sworn to himself that he would help the other for as long as he was needed, for as long as Namjoon required a helping hand to assist him on his way to power. As time stretched on, the elder became more and more comfortable in his role, and in a way he was filling the spaces Namjoon had left, having skills the younger lacked. It worked surprisingly well, his experiences in card games, casinos, social conventions and meetings helped him win over people in a way Namjoon couldn’t, the younger speaking far too much from the heart when he hadn’t been taught to control his words, Seokjin much more experienced in surveying a situation, speaking when it was right.
It didn’t take long for Seokjin to be conducting things by himself while Namjoon was on another job, meeting potential business partners, enticing investors and anybody else he deemed useful. Clubs and casinos became his scene, much more comfortable there than somewhere like a large board meeting, the kind of place Namjoon excelled at more than him. Seokjin’s self-doubts became an asset, knowing exactly what he was capable of in safe boundaries, knowing when he should seek help or when he could do something entirely by himself.
Experience taught him more and more, how to use his handsome appearance as an enticing factor encouraging cooperation, how to make himself look innocent until he pulled out a gun and became someone to fear. As opposed to what he thought would happen, he never felt like he was letting Namjoon down, never felt as though he was deadweight on the other’s body. Months, years, and Seokjin wasn’t asked to step down, never even thought of it, content in his seat directly at Namjoon’s side, wearing a matching crown. Something in him was always satisfied to watch the people around him realise how powerful he was, how intimidated they were watching him and Namjoon as they built their empire, scale only growing and growing.
He had no regrets, not one, not from his childhood, not from his transition to adulthood, to responsibility. Seokjin knew everything he had now were things he earned from hard work, things which were rewards for the hardships and trials he had been though. Maybe that was why he didn’t think twice when a year later he was given the opportunity to expand their family, wanting someone else to prosper in the same way he had, to feel just as confident and fortunate in their existence.