Roughly inspired by this.

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Last name: Kim.

 

 

First name: Namjoon.

 

 

Purpose: Unknown.

 

 

The moon shinned in the darkness of the night. He could not do anything to stop the temptation of staring at the moon. The beautiful, free moon that mocked him from above. It’s soft rays allowed his surroundings to glow in the darkness, letting the trees, benches, and streets become dimly noticeable.

He was alone once again, sitting at his usual spot of the quiet park he frequented at night time. There was no one there to accompany him, it was simply him and his thoughts. Namjoon was used to it by now; being alone that is. He had always felt alone, even in a crowd of people, even in a city as big as Seoul; he was always alone. The emptiness never goes away no matter what he does in attempt to fill the hole in his heart. No amount of alcohol, drugs, or women ever work. At times, they even worsen the emptiness within him.

He lives in a continuous cycle of going to work, going to school, barely eating, then heading home for some more grueling work. No time for friends he doesn’t even have, and no time for himself. It’s all just work, working an average job in a little cubicle with no freedom of expression.

Having time to himself seems like the worst of them all. He has always felt empty, but once he is alone he starts to think and thinking is his ultimate demise. His cruel mind never seems to stop, the venom that seeps from his thoughts ruin him from the inside out until he is rotten, with no trace of the original Namjoon left.

He never knows why he goes to the park, for he has no reason to. However, he finds it comforting to be somewhere other than his house or job, to observe natures beauty at its finest, without a sort of distraction from busy highways or obnoxiously chatty pedestrians which would be present during the daytime. He enjoyed the silence, watching as the moon caused his surrounding environment to glow eerily while winds gushed past, leading the colored leaves to a dance.

Oh, how he wishes he could be as free as those leaves; flowing so freely without a care in the world, without a set destination or path ahead, simply whirling in circles in a passionate dance with the wind. Instead he is chained to his cruel fate, sinking deeper each day into his despair until it engulfs him whole, never having a chance to reach the surface. He was forever trapped with no escape, no matter how much he cried out or screamed at the top of his lungs, people would indifferently walk away without giving him a second glance. It is simply how the world worked. Namjoon knew that all too well as he looked down at his wrists, letting out a sigh while he stared at the various horizontal scars and scratches littering his tan flesh. He knew it all far too well. The world is not a merciful place. You either fight or get trampled on and no one seems to care what happens to you afterwards. It’s every man for themselves.

He hated it all. He hated the corrupted society he lived in, he hated his job, he hated his coworkers, he hated his ty apartment, he hated everything, but what he hated most was himself. As much as he’d try, he would never be able to escape from himself.

Namjoon shut his eyes, shaking his head from side-to-side lightly in attempt to keep his mind from wandering any further and allowing the images of failure and despair in his mind to fade. Letting out a shaky breath he gently massaged at his wrists, his chilled fingertips grazing the slightly risen skin before wrapping his slender fingers around his wrist; a habit he did since he was a young boy whenever he was in distress. He let out a defeated sigh as he quickly stood up from the bench he was seated on, suddenly deciding it was enough for that night.

He followed the same path he took every night back to his apartment complex, barely glancing at the women standing at the corners of the streets cooing at him or the brightly lit neon signs of various clubs and bars. He was far too drained for any of that crap, he always was no matter the time.

Time seemed to pass by in slow motion, slower with each step he took. His surroundings became a dim blur while he carelessly walked straight ahead, unaware of his surrounding environment; completely ignorant and defenseless. Before he seemed to notice, he was standing in front of the familiar old, raggedy building he called home. The high-rise, brownstone structure seemed to greet him with soft creaks as he made his way up the rusty metal steps to the 4th floor where he resided in. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he retracted his jagged silver key and easily slid it into the lock. Twisting the door open, he was greeted with the sound of silence and pitch black darkness; a stillness in the air that sent shivers throughout his body.

Namjoon was finally home.

He was back to his prison, as well as his haven.

---

Kicking off his shoes once he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, he strutted over to the couch and flopped on top of the raggedy old thing, the springs letting out a few squeaks and Namjoon shifted into a comfortable position.

He gazed up at the plain white ceiling, taking in the all too familiar cracks and crevices of the leaky ceiling for a few moments before shutting his eyes in an attempt to fall sleep. However, sleep was a luxury he did not have for quite a long time. His thoughts would run rampant once his eyes would shut, with soft, eerie voices whispering in his mind, mocking him for being a weakling and his failures, taunting him with all his fears and venomous words.

'Weak.'

'You can't do anything right.'

'Why don't you just die.'

'The world would be better off without you.'

'Waste of space.'

'People are doing worse than you.  Quit complaining.'

'Attention seeker.'

'Get off your lazy and do something.'

'You're such a failure.'

'Your parents must be so ashamed of you.'

'You're so pitiful and disgusting.'

'Who would ever want you?'

He could no longer deny his sadness, for he has grown accustomed to its presence. The tormenting would never go away no matter what he'd try. No sleeping pill or drug would ever help. He was stuck with the cruel voices repeatedly stabbing into his heart with such unkind words until he finally came to believe them. He would only sink deeper and deeper. The entire room soon shifting into a massive sink hole with streaks of black across the walls as mold seeped in, dragging the rotted furniture from its initial position down into the abyss before devouring it whole, turning the once beautiful furniture into nothing but littered debris scattered in the pit. The apartment felt heavy as the air grew stale, ridding Namjoon of his breath until--

Suddenly, a soft chime brought him back to reality; the familiar chime of his cellphone ringing in his pocket. He frantically patted his jeans to locate it before checking who would be calling so late at night.

Caller I.D. : Yoongi.

His eyes immediately sprung open as he clicked the answer button. “H-Hyung?” Namjoon stuttered quietly before continuing, “What’s up?”

It was quiet for a moment before a sudden exasperated sigh came from the line.

“I saw you again, Joonie,” The low, husky voice of his friend filled the line with what seemed to be a hint of disappointment. “Why the  were you out so late again? Don’t you have work in the morning?”

Namjoon let out a sheepish chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck rather embarrassed as he suddenly remembered that Yoongi worked at a night club near the park. “Sorry, hyung… I couldn’t really sleep so I went out for a walk, but I’ll be heading to bed right now-”

“Too late.” Yoongi interjected before Namjoon could finish, a series of small knocks being heard in the distance. “Open the damn door, i’m right outside and I'm freezing my out here.” With that, Yoongi hung up the phone.

Namjoon hesitated a moment to get up from the couch, observing the living rooms condition; piles of soda cans, chip bags, and scattered clothing laying on the floor, before he got up anyways and walked over to the door. As he opened the door, he was greeted to the sight of his hyung running fingers through his hair, ruffling it up lazily causing bleached strands of hair to poke out in odd places with the usual sleepy look plastered on his face.

Namjoon couldn’t help the soft smile from appearing on his face, he was glad to see his hyung even if he would be getting a scolding. He moved to the side to give Yoongi some space to enter the apartment, hearing a soft grunt and ‘twerp’ directed at him before shutting the door once he stepped inside.

A sudden wave of relief rushed over him as Yoongis shoulder brushed by ever so slightly against his chest. The smile Namjoon had on his face was filled with appreciation and joy, his heart soared in his chest as the voices in his mind resided and his thoughts disappeared; letting himself finally feel grounded once more. The emptiness of the apartment suddenly withdrawing once Yoongi stepped into the room. Namjoon exhaled in relief.

His hyung was home. Home finally felt like home again.