Oh hi lovelies!

So I kinda messed up in the last chapter and forgot to mention that the kkt message was sent to Seokjin to ask him about Namjoon, oops ^^; Sorry if that caused any confusion >.<

Also if you haven't realised, I've imagined Jimin to be much shorter for entertainment purposes (like 163cm or 5'3 instead of his actual height).

Anyways, this chapter, Namjoon is back ;) also, double length chapter because it’s so late!!!

warnings; lil bit of blood

Yoongi said one more day and today is that day. If Namjoon isn't back in the morning Yoongi will file a report.

For some reason I'm having even more trouble sleeping than usual. It's just past one am when I drag myself out of bed to make myself a hot drink in the hopes that it would somehow help me sleep. Even though I know it will actually just make me need to pee sooner. I slouch across to the counter to put the kettle on. I probably look like Yoongi, bleary eyed and barely lifting up my feet, but my limbs feel heavy whilst my head feels worryingly light.

It's not that I never sleep well, but that I often sleep badly. Far more often than I would like. And sometimes I make it harder for myself. But perhaps, today, making this drink will be worth it. Perhaps I'll curl back up in bed and sleep like a baby. You can never tell; sleep is such a fickle entity.

I take my favourite brand of hot chocolate out of the cupboard about the same time that I notice that my favourite mug, a powder blue ceramic mug with an old fashioned floral design, has been stashed on the top shelf by some tall . Just fantastic. I psych myself up a little bit before clambering onto the work surface and straining up to get it down, just managing to hook my fingers through the cool ceramic handle before I slide back off the side again. I promise myself to find out who exactly decided to do that in the morning.

I turn to the sink to rinse the mug out, mostly for something to do - it definitely doesn't need washing - and, as I start to move away to fetch a tea towel, I happen to glance at the window. The mug drops from my hand and smashes on the wooden floor as soon as it impacts. There's a face at the window, outside looking in, illuminated weirdly by the kitchen lights and looming out of the inky dark of the night. I guess I'm getting a little more used to being scared now because I only take a single step back, drawing in a sharp breath as a sudden rush of adrenaline courses through me, before I realise I recognise that face. It's the one I've been waiting for to return. And who else but Namjoon would sneak up on me? Of course. Thee knowledge does nothing to calm my frightened heart though.

I step forwards, pleased to see him (okay what?), and, simultaneously, feel stinging pain in the sole of my right foot. I wince in pain but I dismiss it, making my way over to the front door and opening it wide.

Namjoon greets me with a slightly strained smile, his eyes focused on my feet.

"You hurt yourself," he murmurs, seemingly fixated, and I have to tug him inside so that I can shut the door.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," I retort, but when I glance down and see the trail of blood I've left, I hesitate a little. It seems my foot is more badly cut than I'd first thought. "Oh." All of a sudden, Namjoon's taking me by the arm and guiding me into one of the kitchen chairs. I try to protest but he's having none of it, firmly pushing me into the seat and ordering me to wait there. I decide to humour him, pulling my leg up in the meantime to examine the sole of my foot. There's a large curved cut along with various tiny slivers of ceramic, pieces of my favourite mug, protruding from the toughened skin. Ew.

"Oh, that's pretty bad," Namjoon says, having already returned without my notice. He kneels beside me and I cross my legs so he can get a better view. He has a surprisingly large first aid kit balanced on his knees as he leans in close to my foot, amber eyes scanning it swiftly as his fingers open the first aid kit which promptly falls off his lap, spilling the contents onto the floor. He gazes down at it with sad eyes, as if it had betrayed him and I laugh a little at how offended he looks. "Well at least I didn't get injured." He quips as he leans to scoop the stray items up, this time placing the kit on the floor.

I won't lie, I get a little bit nervous when he's suddenly bringing one of his hands close to my injured foot with a pair of tweezers held between thumb and forefinger. But he's calm and serious and in fact, seems to know what he's doing. I watch for a little, holding still, before I ask the obvious question.

"Where did you go?" The only sign that he's heard my question for almost a minute is the way that the corners of his mouth twitch up just a fraction, but he narrows his eyes and leans in closer to my foot, surprisingly skilfully removing the last fragment of my once treasured mug.

"I was with Seokjin," he says eventually, reluctantly, glancing across to the sorry remains of my mug on the floor in front of the sink. "Do you often pick fights with mugs?" He stands up then, stepping across to the sink without hesitation since he still has his shoes on.

"That's not an answer. Where were you?" I direct at his back. "I usually win." I add on as an afterthought. "Against inanimate objects at least. He huffs in amusement but doesn't answer my question. I wait instead of bugging him - I'm too tired for that - so I look him over as he washes his hands carefully. Wherever he's been, he certainly looks a little worse for wear, dried mud on his shoes and the bottoms of his jeans. The jeans themselves are ripped in multiple places and stained in places, whilst his hoody is just plain scruffy and also not really appropriate for the current weather. He looks kind of out of place in these clothes when I've become accustomed to the shirts and slacks he seems to favour but at the same time, he looks so comfortable. Even if the clothes are questionable at best in terms of cleanliness. he When he comes back and kneels beside me once more, I notice that smells kind of earthy - like moss and mud and streams.

"I was out of town," he mumbles, thumbing at the largest cut. I hiss in pain and almost jerk away but his other hand already has a firm grip on me. He does it again and I make a noise of discomfort.

"What are you doing?" I grit out. He really is hurting me.

"Checking whether you need stitches." He responds reasonably. Then, so quick I immediately wonder if I dreamed it, he brings his bloody fingers to his mouth, pink tongue darting out to taste, his eyes locked with mine. What the frizzlesticks was that? I stare at him aghast, but he just looks at my foot once more before making a decision. So did that actually happen? Or did I make it up? He beams up at me then, dimples defined as ever and I can feel myself melting a little at how pleased he looks. "You don't need stitches, I can fix you up easy," he grins. He mumbles to himself softly as he applies antiseptic cream to each cut in turn, interrupting himself with apologies every time I shift away from his hands even the slightest bit. It's sweet actually, how careful he's being, I could almost excuse a certain incident that I'm actually already starting to wonder about. Did he really taste my blood right in front of me? That's a bit too weird right. "You know, I seem to spend far too much time doing this," he mutters as he cuts a double sided dressing to size to stick on my foot.

"Pardon, hyung?" He shakes his head.

"Oh nothing." But he really does seem to know what he's doing as he pulls out a roll that looks like a cross between a plaster and a gauze bandage. He sees my questioning look. "This is to stick the other part of the dressing on," he explains, cutting this bit to size too. He sticks the two parts of the dressing to my foot, with large but gentle hands, and starts packing up. "Well, I'm sorry about that."

"I'm just glad you're back." I reply softly. "Why didn't you tell anyone you were going?" He glances up in surprise and actually stutters when he responds (could he be any cuter? it's so unfair).

"I-I di-didn't think anyone would care." He whispers, pausing in his task. I can see in his eyes that he means it and it makes my chest ache just the tiniest bit that anyone could think they didn't matter at all. Even if I've been consistently difficult and even rude to him, he's never treated me with anything other than respect and, well, kindness I guess. I feel like a bit of a jerk...

"You were wrong." He blinks at me. "We were worried. We were going to file a report." He gazes at me in disbelief. "People care about you here - you're part of the house." The smile he breaks out into at those words is probably up there in the top ten most adorable smiles I've seen (others including a happy sleepy Yoongi, Seokjin when he's eating any kind of food, and Hyosang when a track comes out just right, amongst others). I slide from my chair onto the floor and help him pack everything back into his first aid kit which is, if I say so myself, suspiciously well stocked. Do people around him get injured that often?

"This was the kit for my entire house before I moved here!" He exclaims suddenly and I must be doing a really poor job of concealing my scepticism because he feels the need to elaborate further. "Plus I'm really clumsy." No kidding.

"Sure, I believe you." He looks at me askance but he gets up and goes to fetch the broom and the dustpan and brush so he can clear up the remains of my poor mug all the same.

"I'll replace this for you." He says, tipping the last pieces into the bin whilst I watch him from where I'm sat cross legged on the floor, his first aid kit long since repacked (and completely reorganised). He spent a long while making sure there were no tiny pieces of ceramic anywhere and it turned into him sweeping the entire floor, not that I'm complaining. A peaceful atmosphere has settled over us and I don't think I've ever felt this at ease in Namjoon's presence. He leans down and offers me his hand, easily pulling me back to my feet.

"You don't have to replace that." I tell him as I hand him his first aid kit but he disagrees before I've even finished talking.

"No, you favour that one so I'll get you something to use in its place." I'm far too tired to argue now. I think, perhaps, after all that excitement, and with the knowledge that Namjoon has returned, I might finally be able to sleep.

"Goodnight Namjoon," I breathe after I've locked my door and, even though I said it so quietly, I swear I hear him call out in response.

Okie dokie guys ~

So that's a thing that happened O_O I hope you guys enjoyed it <3

I'll take suggestions for what kind of cheesy cartoon mug Namjoon should buy Jimin in order to irritate him and replace his favoured broken mug in one blow! Thoughts? Haha ~

Have a lovely day/night ~