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deepseavibez · 3 years

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Nerve_1 || KNJ

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Nerve [Namjoon x Reader]

Prompt - @casnextdoor

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Part 1 || Stalemate

Part 2 || Ellipsis

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Genre: cheating; aftermath; husband au;

Summary - You would never expect it really. He's doting. He's sweet. He's hardworking. But he's forgotten his morals. Suspecting it is one thing, but when he confirms it, will you stay or walk away.

Warning - Cheating; Negative Thoughts; Questionable Thoughts; Sadness; Pain; Crying; Pure Angst!

Word Count - 5.9k

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🎶 - you broke me first - Tate McRae

'Y/n.'

You heard him come in. You heard the front door close. Usually you’d be jumping into his arms, reaching for a hug, kissing him deeply, but not today. Not for the last two days. Everything felt... foreign.

This was not normal. You shouldn’t feel… off when the love of your life enters your house, or anxious and questionable with his plans or the next set of words leaving his mouth.

He was the cause.

His hands didn't close over you the way they used to. You didn't feel like his when he held you. His eyes wandered as they spoke, unable to look at you for too long. Screw logic when emotion was involved, because when words were in between the ones said and sentences had underlying meaning and confusion clouded every interaction - it was a sign. Something was not right and this was not your Namjoon.

Logic implied you shouldn't throw all the blame on a situation purely based on assumption or react unprovoked. But these two nights, when you slept, you slept next to a stranger. So you distanced yourself as much as he did.

Nevertheless, not one for conflict, not one to jump to conclusions, you answered appropriately. 'Yes Joonie, hold on, let me get this right.'

You had taken out a pizza from the oven and now rolled the cutter through to divide it into six pieces. Maybe ordering in would have been better, but you had the time, and you felt like cooking today anyway.

'Y/n.' You heard again, closer this time.

'Wait Joon, I'm almost done.' You were on the last cut, then you'd leave it in the oven to stay warm until you were ready to eat.

'Y/n.' He was right behind you. Doing your best to remain distracted, you focused on the task at hand. 'We need to talk.'

'Alright, give me a second, I just want to get the pizza back in the oven.' You were annoyed now, reproachful even.

'This is important.' He was pushy and impatient, which was very unlike him.

'So is food,' you chided, 'but okay.' Wiping your hands on your apron, and turning around you looked up at your husband.

He stared for a long moment, and you used your best poker face. He had your attention now. So?

'Come on,' he said softly as he reached out to take your hand and began leading you out of the kitchen.

Planting your feet, you stayed put. 'We can talk right here.' Needless to say, you weren't hell bent on being very cooperative right now. Things were too tense for you to do anything willingly, you just couldn't afford the favor.

'I'd rather you sit down.' He was a bit more even toned now. Less jittery. Either way you didn't budge.

'Alright.' You hopped onto the counter and looked up expectantly. 'I'm listening.'

'I meant on an actual chair.'

You raised your eyebrows. You weren't moving anytime soon.

Joon stared at you and then shook his head in resignation a moment later.

He swallowed hard, before looking back at you.

You twisted your lips, concern evident. Outside you had a pretty good face up, but your heart beat a million miles a minute. Either you knew what he was going to say, or you were way off.

'About Friday night,' he started.

Fuck.

'Ohhhh this is what this is about.' You made your eyes wide in understanding. Reaching out to place your hand on the side of his face you continued. 'Joon there's nothing wrong with getting a bit drunk, you don't usually let yourself go like that. I don't mind taking care of you.'

And you didn't mind taking care of him. A drunk Namjoon wasn't all that bad. Cuddly, clingy and exhibiting the babiest actions you've ever seen on the strong, mature leader. It was different.

'Y/n,' he stopped your hand and pulled it off his face, but he held onto it instead of letting go. 'I was with someone.'

You heard the words. Some part of you understood them almost immediately, but…

'A girl.' Uh huh. Was the room always this hot?

Nodding your head slowly, as if on autopilot, you hummed as you stared at him, through him more like, since his image was blurred at the edges now.

'At the bar.'

Nodding again, you processed this time. Let it sink in. You could feel it now. Panic. 'I see.'

'It didn't mean anything.' You wanted to laugh, of course those words fit somewhere in this explanation.

'Where?'

'Her car.'

'How many times?'

'Once.' Blinking rapidly, he swallowed hard as he added his next to words. 'She sucked me off.'

Hopping off the counter, you looked everywhere but at him as you paced, before pausing and asking another question. 'Was it good?'

'How does that matter.'

'Was. It. Good.' The words ground out of you. You couldn't explain why you needed to know. You didn't need to explain why.

'It was in the moment, I was drunk, and-,'

'I asked if it was fucking good Namjoon!'

At the end of your patience, your world crumbling, he needed to stop digging this hole you were about to push him in.

'No. It wasn't worth it.' You noted him in the corner of your eye, he looked small for once in his life, like he could fold any moment. But he stood as himself, owning it. Owning his bullshit.

'Y/n I'm so-,' he started.

'Don't!' Palm up in his direction, you did not want to hear it. It was too late for that, because no ‘I'm sorry’ was going to erase this. 'I can't hear it right now. Your apology means nothing.'

You almost couldn't breathe. Almost. You almost cried too. Almost. You almost broke down in hysterics and asked if it was a cruel joke. Almost. But you could not let your guard down right now. You would not. This was not the Namjoon that had any right to see you be completely torn.

A giggle bubbled up. It was so unexpected, it triggered a laugh out of you. Humorless and dry you probably looked like a crazy bitch right now. Turning your back completely to him you held onto that counter with both hands. To stay upright and to hold onto something solid as you spoke your next words. 'Do I not give, good enough head, Namjoon. Was that it?'

'Y/n, you know that's not-,'

'I can't deal with this right now.' Tugging the apron over your head you flung it somewhere in the kitchen and began to leave. Explanations be damned.

'We need to talk about this.' His voice was harsh, grated, also seemingly at the end of his patience.

Turning around you scrunched up your eyebrows in disbelief. 'I don't owe you a goddamn thing right now. Let alone the time or the opportunity to explain yourself.'

The pain on his face, the desperation in his voice, did everything it would to you, to a person that was utterly in love with the man standing in front of you. But you could not comfort, or fix things, or care, not this time, not now.

'Please, baby, listen to me. If you just give me a chance to explain.' He reached out toward you.

'Don't touch me!' You retreated from his grasp and turned your back on him.

He followed you as you all but ran to the bedroom. Slamming the door in his face, you heard his fist land on it straight after.

'Y/n, let me in. Let's talk about this. Please baby, we have to talk about this.'

His voice was muffled, but you heard him, your insides crawled at the desperation in his voice, a part of you wanting to open the door.

But if you did, he would have the upper hand. You would give in, and this would be way, way worse to handle. It was not easy. It was not small. It hadn't actually sunk in yet but you knew, you knew, you deserved better.

Looking at the door you took your hand off the knob and noticed you were a bit shaky. Slowly you walked backwards, treating the door like a barrier. Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you let yourself go, falling on the edge of the mattress. Disbelief. Panic. Pain. Rage.

You shook as you felt the tears form at the edge of your vision. Dropping your head into your hand, you squeezed your eyes shut, letting the tears fall.

How? Why? Was it you? Blinking in tandem with your thoughts as they cascaded, your insides curled. Was it something you did? Something you didn’t do? Something that's always been there? And if there was a seed of doubt, a tiny cut capable of festering, even a moment of second guessing, why hadn't you noticed it.

Things have always been open between you and Joon. He was simple. Busy, rich, successful and well-known, a true entertainer, with the mind of a poet and an old soul, but he was simple.

He wrote songs and adhered to schedule, traveled and performed, he liked riding his bike and walking through museums, sponging eons worth of history, knowledge, only greedy for the answers of the universe.

He was honest, kind, and he genuinely cared. Sure, he knew he was good looking, he knew he had a stage presence that he owned with his every breath, he had boundaries and rules and certain obsessive tendencies that he had every single right in the world to have.

But cheating? Getting drunk, at a bar, and physically getting down and dirty with a girl that was not her?!

You flung the first thing that you noticed on the nightstand, your lava lamp, the one he'd actually bought you. But watching it shatter into pieces, mirrored the rage that had built inside you.

'Y/n!’ There was banging on the door this time. ‘I'll get the spare key and let myself in, if you don’t open up.' You drowned out banging and his threat. You didn’t care right now. You couldn’t. His voice, which was usually something you loved, to listen to him sing and rap and forget the world fucking existed.

Covering your ears, as he knocked and begged you to open up, it was too much, he was being too much, 'Aaargh!! Namjoon, go!'

Your outburst caught him off guard. 'What,no -,'

'I need time dammit. Just go! Leave. Take a walk. Find your side squeeze, just fucking leave me alone right now!' Your throat was hoarse as you screamed at him through your tears.

The banging on the door stopped.

'That's not fair.'

'What's not fair is a wife trusting her husband even when he came home drunk to her arms in their bed, when that same night he was balls deep in someone else!' Under your breath you added, 'talk to me about what's fair.'

'I don't want to leave you alone.' You felt the war within you shape itself, your head or your heart, it would come down to that, because how could one man soften you but compel you to harden.

Shaking your head at the door, you yelled your hardest. 'I don't give a damn what you want right now. Just leave. Just leave.'

Breathing hard, you watched the shadow under the door retreat, his footsteps shifting away softly. You sagged in relief when you heard the front door slam.

Dropping your arms, you sorted through your thoughts without the looming possibility of him barging in. You had only a moment before, hysterical laughter bubbled up within you as you thought of who this bitch was. You swallowed your tears, and god knows what else as you let yourself go. You didn't know her, but she was definitely a hoe. Namjoon was married. The fucking world knew he was taken. He wore a ring on his fucking left hand and you'd been pictured next to him on numerous magazines ever since.

Bile rose in your throat at the humiliation. Not from the world, the world could go to hell. When you lived with an idol, when your life involved cameras and scandals, words hurt a little less when it came from people that didn't even have access to your personal phone number.

No, screw people. It was her. Her. Whoever the fuck she was. You didn't even want to see her. Wait. Did you? Would you want to? What if she's prettier? What if you knew her? What if she was actually someone smarter, better, someone in the idol circle. No. Better not to know. But wouldn't it be worse if she was uglier. I mean standards, right.

What did that actually say about you though?

Shaking your head, you didn't want your mind to stray further. Who she was, her descent, local or not, her career or standing, you weren't that shallow, but did she actually deserve the courtesy when she'd basically fucked your husband.

Your tongue ran across your teeth, as a look of complete disdain crossed your face, your mind straying further. She had her hands all over him, no doubt. Her fingers across his skin, his thighs, his cock. Her fucking mouth on the most intimate parts of him. What if she had sat on his lap, leaning toward him, grabbing at his hair. His arms around her, touching her, groping her.

An anguished cry left you at the thought that he might have kissed her. His lips meeting hers. Her tongue in his fucking mouth. A fresh set of tears triggered at your loss of control.

Your hands roamed the bed covers, clutching them, fisting at them before almost wanting to rip them apart, only your weight at that edge of the bed stopping it from flying across the room.

Your eyes darted from side to side, your chest almost suffocating as you imagined the scenario, sobs bubbling out, as you wailed incoherently.

You stood up as you replayed Friday night in your mind. It wasn't ordinary, but that was only because Joon didn't drink himself the way he did.

You paced, clutching at your hair, covering your mouth, eyes wide, trying to make sense of something, anything, you didn't even know how you were feeling, you didn't know what to feel.

He had rung the doorbell instead of using his keys. Smelling the alcohol immediately, you helped him to bed and cooed at him, making him get some water in before passing out.

You stripped him down and charged his phone and - lipstick! There was a red stain on the collar of his shirt that night. You noticed when you took it off. Too preoccupied with drabble about Freud and the theory of psychoanalysis you didn't give it a second thought. I mean it's not like you knew he had fucked someone that same night. Kim Namjoon? It would have been the day.

Stopping at the door, you placed your palm against it, worked on controlling your breathing, your freehand wiping away the wetness in your face, only to have more tears roll down again.

Did you really mean that little to him. That you were forgotten because you were absent and a little alcohol was in his system.

You turned, so your back leaned against the wall next to the door. Even so far gone, so drunk, could he not remember who he was in love with, who he had chosen to be with.

Whimpering as the mental images became too heavy to bear, you sank to the floor.

Knees clutched against your chest, you dropped your head on them and cried, inhaling when you could, wanting the ground to swallow you whole one moment into the next.

Uncertain. Uncontained. Untrammeled grief tore through you. You could do nothing but let it break you.

Namjoon. What did you even do now? Because there was no way you could just drop by for the hell of it during the week for lunch or smile like you did when there was a surprise delivery of flowers.

Shaking slightly, you wanted to be mad at him. You wanted to claw at your chest so you could rip your heart out because you now realized that these were all reasons to be mad, but you weren’t mad at him.

It was terrifying. That you had forgiven him. Despite the fresh pain and the breakdown and the hurt that ached in your bones. As soon as he was honest, you had forgiven him. You had no excuses for that. You had no proper reasoning. You just felt. You just loved.

It was just that simple and so absolutely hard. And when an overthinker was involved, simple was not simple at all.

Overthinkers had a cabinet of files for the worst case scenario of every situation. Being cheated on, however impossible the odds were, was an option. A far away one, under a dusty set of 'what could actually go wrong'.

Well. Here it was. Falling out of love. Regretting everything. Cheating. Being cheated on.

The truth was that everyone had their own set of insecurities. The world changed all the time and people grew up, grew together or grew apart. It was a fact. It was honest. Some people just grew apart. But this was not one of those times. This was not being good enough. This was somehow not doing your best in the relationship or having something lacking. This was a whole new set of why's and how's that would devastate even the most sturdy, unshakeable relationships.

But most importantly, besides feeling you deserved to be cheated on, this was heartbreak, because when you gave someone your heart, you trusted them not to rip it out of you and trample it.

Resigned, you kept yourself close, tightly clutching at your knees, your hands holding on, your eyes shut, keeping every piece from falling out. What would you do now?

-------

🎶 - The Bones - Maren Morris with Hozier

It was a few hours before you heard footsteps approach the door again. This time his footfalls were softer. A cautious man feeling out the energy before making a move or saying something he would regret.

He stopped at the door and waited a few seconds before knocking.

You didn't answer him. You hadn't moved. You didn't know the time. You didn't want food. You didn't want anything.

'You know I didn't leave.' He sounded complaisant..

'I know.' Your throat hurt; your voice sounding dry and scratchy due to the crying.

You couldn't even scrunch your eyebrows in confusion as you heard shuffling and a slight thump outside the door.

'I'm sorry.' He was right outside the door.

Your backs to each other, leaning against the same wall, facing the opposite direction…how symbolic.

‘I'm so strong Namjoon.’ You admitted softly. ‘I am so strong, but I gave you my best. And you made it mean nothing.’ The hiss in your voice caused you both to flinch.

‘You disrespected me. It doesn't matter who she was, or who saw the both of you or any of those things. You made me look stupid Namjoon.’ You couldn’t even lift your hand to emphasize your point or shake your head in disappointment. ‘This from the man that vouches for my perspective, my ideas, my life choices. The man that fights for my dreams and happiness. It's something I would never expect from you. How do I come back from that?’

‘Would you believe she’s brunette.’ He said after your confession.

You didn’t want to hear this, but you knew you had to. Wincing slightly, your muscles protesting after being in one position too long, you cautiously raised your hand to the doorknob and twisted it softly. It clicked open and you let go, letting it swing open, the creaking in the door-hinge a familiar sound in the silence.

You didn’t step out, neither was he invited in, but the door was open. It was something and so he took it as an opportunity to continue. 'She was not very curvy, bright red lipstick, and long hair. She looked unreal actually. But in a lot of make-up, a lot of salads and selfies, very...perfect sort of way.’

He shifted his head toward the doorway, twiddling a paperclip in his fingers. ‘I am not saying it’s what you lack. That’s just what she looked like. She looked sad. Drank gin and tonic. I noticed her as soon as I walked in.’

‘In a very, she looks different, someone deserving of a double take, she looks sad, probably going through a lot type of way. Always too curious for your own good.’ Your words held no anger, just acceptance. Joon didn’t get out much. His life didn’t even allow something as easy as shopping, so dating, flirting, the butterflies of a stare from across the room, the heat between a new unexplored connection, it was new to him.

‘I approached her, spouted a fact about gin that she smiled at. She didn’t seem to know me. She didn’t have a clouded view of this man that represented a whole country. I think in any other setting we would have been able to be friends, because we seemed to get along. The guys were busy, having fun, they probably didn’t see anything wrong with a normal laughing enjoyable conversation.

As the time went, the guys left, they knew I wouldn’t hit up any clubs with them, that I would come straight home after the bar. And with more alcohol and light touches, things just got hazy and when she leaned forward and kissed me, I just kissed back. It felt weird, different. But it didn’t stop. The feeling of wrong and bad added to the headiness of the situation and before we knew, before I knew it, I was cumming.’ You could hear him click his tongue, battling to get the rest of the words out.

‘As soon as the high wore off I just, she didn’t look, she was, it was vile, I was disgusted. I felt guilty and I’m not even sure what I told her, I just know I pulled my pants up and went back into the bar. I drank in a frenzy, like I wanted to forget, like I could make it seem like I wasn’t entirely conscious, make it as if it never happened.’

You could feel your own heart breaking. It was a twisting in your chest, a pain you couldn’t explain. It was under your skin, in your veins, making you feel like someone was pushing your head under water, uncaring that you were inhaling water, suffocating you, you wrapped your arms around your shoulders, holding on tightly, caging the scream that wanted to leave your lips.

‘I don’t remember much after that. Just being called a cab, the elevator, your face, and then the next morning. I tried to stay away, because the truth crawled in my mouth every time I spoke to you, but every minute I battled myself in the Rkive tore more fear into me. I was terrified that I wouldn’t have you anymore. How could I tell you knowing I’d lose you, but how could I not and keeping it from you was doing just that already.’

Your eyes were damp, but you didn’t have it in you to cry anymore. Over what exactly. What’s done was done. He couldn’t change it. You couldn’t change it.

‘If any of the band was there, or Hoseokie, I think they would have caught you slipping and had you home before any escalations.’

‘Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be going out with the high school boys anymore.’

‘But that’s not the point, is it? Do you need policing or are you a grown man capable of making smart choices?’ You didn’t expect an answer and you knew he couldn’t give you one.

‘We were good, for however long we had, Namjoon.’ You were stepping toward the inevitable since he started explaining. There was no need to drag it out. ‘Good things can't last. It's like the laws of the universe or something. Maybe we should just...let go.’

‘We do have something good. We have something wonderful. I love you y/n. I am in love with you.’

You could hear the hurt in his voice, but he needed to hear, he needed to know the consequences of his actions. ‘If I tell you how awful this makes me feel, do you think you'd be able to look me in the eye ever again?’

Silence.

‘I will look at you and face you, because I own my fuck up. I don't know how long it will take. I don't know exactly how I can make up for this, but I will, I just, y/n, I can't lose you.’

‘You might have already,’ you whispered.

Panic set it in. His outburst, instinctive,'Y/n, please-!'

'Joon what would you do?.' Your interruption wasn't something you had actually thought of during your time alone, but now you were intrigued.

Silence.

Despite the understanding that you had caught up off guard, you pressed further. 'It's a serious question, what would you do? I've given you everything I could. I know it's hard some days. And I can be stubborn and demanding. I can be clingy and annoying. I make bad choices sometimes, I argue a lot with you. I know I cut into your time. And I have days where I need space because everything in my head is all jumbled up inside. But those insecurities. That, not being enough, and yet being too much. Doesn't this solidify that.'

'Don't do this.' His protest was weak. A plea more like. It broke you even more.

Bucking up you clenched your jaw, a steely determination clouding your hurt. 'You said you wanted to talk about it.'

'I want to fix this!' He all but shouted, his latter statement causing you to flinch internally. 'You're talking about leaving me.'

'You can't leave me,' he repeated softly, more to himself than you.

What else could you do? What other way was there? Sure, maybe you weren't enough to be loyal to, but sticking around forcing your existence onto him.

'You obviously cheated for a reason Namjoon. When you're drunk, there is absolutely no way to control your urges, but there's also an honest element to it. She obviously had something I didn't. You wanted her.'

'I'll admit at the time, my goddamn cock was up, but it was in the moment. You know I don't disrespect women, but when I say she means absolutely nothing, I mean it. We can get through this.’

‘How do I sleep next to you knowing you forgot me. How do I get through the day waking up and being normal, when you could do it again, anytime you go out; that it was okay to cheat on me. You could lie about it.’

‘I never lied.’

‘And I’ll give you that.’ Which you did. His honesty changed the game for both of you. ‘But to cheat is to tell me that you do not feel as much love for me as I do for you.’

‘I love you.’ He was scrambling, unable to be convincing, too worked up to think of more.

‘I never said you didn't. You do. I know you do. That's why we're sitting here right now. Trying. But you gave someone else my right. Something I am only entitled to do. And if for one second you think that it’s not that deep, then there isn't anything left to talk about.’

‘I think I'd lose my mind. If it were, if the roles were reversed. I do my best to be humble. Yes, I have money, a luxurious life and clothes worth more than houses and there's so many girls around the world that I could have. But I picked you. And to know that I was, I have tolerable flaws and that I'm not that bad of a person and to get cheated on... not when I loved and made the effort and tried with everything in me to make it work.’

You heard him place his hand to the wall.

‘Y/n. I understand. I do. And I will give you as much time as you need. I can give you space. I can take the guest bedroom. I can pick up more than my weight around here. But don’t leave. Don't give up on us.’ Words slurred, you could tell he was crying. ‘You're the most important thing in the world to me. Please stay. Please.’

‘Do you think we're strong,’ you asked. It was a loaded question. One that could switch the train on a different track.

‘I do.’

‘Then you'll give us time.’ Your reply cutting the rope you had him think you were giving.

His heart was in his throat, his mind razed in regret. He had to make this right. ‘What if, in your time, you realize you can't forgive me.’

‘What if at the same time you realize you cheated because I am not what you want anymore,’ you countered.

Something vehemently protested within him. But he couldn't voice it. Not when his actions went against everything he could possibly speak on. ‘I know I hurt you, but can you please tell me, right now, even after all of this, if I'm still the Namjoon you love.’

Your reply was instinctive, no pain, no mistake, no person in the world would change it. ‘You're my favourite person in the world. Even now. You're my Namjoon. But-,’

‘No. No buts. You stay. You take your time. You get your space. I'll fight. I’ll fight for you. I'll fight for us.’

It was unbearable how believable his words were. Was it just everything inside you not wanting to leave this life, this love or was he speaking the truth. Your heart said the latter.

‘This can't happen again.’

There it was. The first step. The first inch. The first opportunity to a direction was the fork in the road. He latched onto it. With sheer will, he would work with it. A sliver of hope was better than nothing at all. ‘You don't even have to say it. Never again y/n.’

Cautiously he reached out his hand, shaking slightly, apprehension evident, he placed it at the doorway. A second, ten. Maybe you weren't looking, not seeing it. He couldn't blame you even if you saw it and didn't want to take it. But he would wait, he would -

He jumped as he felt your fingers creep between his. They didn't hold. They didn't curl into his palm willingly. They were there.

A pang of guilt furled from deep within him threatened to have him grip at your hand, in hopes of keeping you to him. But fighting every instinct, he just pushed his fingers a bit closer as it sat loosely against yours. Linked but not at all.

‘You have a lot ahead of you. I'm going to be second guessing everything. Something in me says I can still trust you, but every bit of the cold fear surrounding it demands I be cautious. You won't get this again. I can't. I will break and even you will not be able to put me back together.’

‘I love you,’ he repeated.

‘I know.’

‘We'll be okay.’

‘I hope, with everything in me, you're right.’

A beat of silence, before a tap on your finger had you looking toward your hand. 'So you'll stay?'

His voice was soft, as if saying it too loud will draw too much attention to what he was asking, as if a by the way answer would allow him more time to make things right, as if your reply would set anything in stone.

Even now you wouldn't shy away from Namjoon. Despite his mistakes, as a person, he could understand how you thought, how deeply the train wheels were ingrained on tracks of rust and debris, but moving forward, going strong, thought after thought, one fact stood out; turning the page without him tagging along for the story, didn't feel right. He fit, with you. He was yours. 'I feel like leaving will hurt more.'

That felt better for you. Easier to say. The serrated edge of the situation slightly dulled. Now, whether it was right, time would tell.

Though he asked, begged in fact, for you to stay, for you to answer as you did and it was what he wanted, it was almost overwhelming, the surge of emotion that spread through him. He was moved. He was reminded then, of what he had always known; you were more than anything he could ever deserve, and worth everything he could give you. Security, affection or freedom, because your capacity to forgive leaps and bounds ahead of his.

And if you had left, he would understand, but understanding was not the same as doing.

He'd had the weekend to think of every way this could have turned out. Lying was never on the table. He'd felt it as much as you had. Annoyance, resentment, being on guard and second guessing words, a silent smothering, that would have ruined you both. So he would tell the truth. And he would have followed you. Taken care of you. Been there for you in any way you would allow. But he wouldn't let you go. He knew you loved him. And he would make it up, somehow, someway. He had to. As long as you loved him.

Giving in to his need to hold you to him, his hand closed into a fist around the tips of your fingers in his palm; secure, immovable.

You looked away, not needing to pull your hand back, not needing to look anymore either. Everything felt far away. A future involving you both, off kilter for the moment. Tomorrow felt like it would take place in an eternity. You could feel every moment pass. Every beat of your heart a dreary ache. Every breath you took building up resistance, a defense, an offense, a way to get through this with some of you intact. Because staying felt like it was the light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

Once upon a time you would loath the very idea of staying with someone who made a mistake such as this one. But he was sorry, he knew he'd done you wrong and he'd been honest. It was a start.

Over and over the wheels turned in your head, justifying your actions, because love was not always enough. But with love, this was a choice you would make. Namjoon was someone you would give a second chance to. Not just because you couldn't imagine a life with anyone else, but because you were willing to love him through everything, even the pain he’d caused you.

And so they sat, the moon shining through the window opposite her in their shared bedroom, and him in the complete darkness of the cold hallway, back to back.

It was okay. She needed the moon right now. The stars, a reminder that even the smallest bits of something pretty, engulfed by a blanket of the night sky, could shed even a little bit of light.

Fragments didn't have to be whole to work. Pieces could be pushed together, rebuilt into something better.

And maybe, just maybe, cracks could serve as a reminder that broken things were the most beautiful.

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Part 1 || Stalemate

Part 2 || Ellipsis

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