The taste of copper fills Namjoon’s mouth when he bites his lips down hard to keep from . His face is scrunched up with disgust at the burning sensation in his belly. He isn’t supposed to like this, he thinks, ing into Seokjin’s open and willing mouth, he’s supposed to hate him.

 

Seokjin moans around his , the sensations driving Namjoon to inside the heat of his mouth faster, ignoring the pain of Seokjin’s nails digging into his or Seokjin’s ability to keep up with him. He just wants to get this over with.

 

“-” Namjoon curses under his breath and he comes without warning, but Seokjin drinks his release eagerly. Namjoon doesn’t move for a second, panting slightly and looks down to see what he’s been waiting for, the tears trail down from the corners of Seokjin’s wide eyes and the mucus and spit covering his nose and mouth. Namjoon feels something flood through his chest and relax his exhausted muscles. He takes pride in making Seokjin look completely wrecked.

 

He pulls out of Seokjin’s mouth and a whine escapes through Seokjin’s throat. Namjoon tugs up his jeans and briefs, trying to get ready as fast as possible before Seokjin could say anything.

 

Seokjin is silent, quietly wiping his mouth and his face with the back of his hand. He recoils from Namjoon when the younger boy roughfully moves past him, nearly tripping over him, and slams the stall down behind him.

 

Seokjin’s eyes burn and he chokes back a sob. His throat aches and he has vocal training in a few hours. He takes a shaky breath and tries to get up, but he doesn’t know if he can do that without breaking down.

 

What the was he doing here?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daehwan. Seunghyun. Jeongmin. Minsoo.

 

Four friends, four futures cut short or deferred, four more people that Namjoon has promised he would make proud. Four reasons to hate Kim Seokjin.

 

How the hell was Seokjin still here was a question that ran through Namjoon’s mind almost daily from the moment he sees his sorry in the practise room until the moment he leaves it. Seokjin can’t rap for or carry a note without his voice cracking, he should have been gone after his first day of training.

 

Unfortunately, Namjoon already had an answer to these question, an answer that drove him crazy and filled him with fury every time he sees Seokjin’s wide eyes and full lips, that Seokjin was yet another pretty boy expection to the rule of talent. Namjoon wants to hate this business, this business so filled with pretty boys who got pretty dreams and left the ugly ones with nothing but scars under their skin. But he needs this filthy business to survive, to fulfill his dreams that he's wanted since he was a little boy listening to his first mixtape.

So he directs all the vitrol, all the rage he wants to let loose against this system that lets talented boys like his friends fail and people like Seokjin triumph, directly at Seokjin himself.

 

Namjoon doesn’t know why he targets Seokjin, he doesn’t know why out of all the pretty faces in the room, he wants to punch Seokjin’s the most, before or after he s his mouth roughly.

 

Seokjin wasn’t there when he entered Big Hit’s trainee program, he had come in a little after.

 

Seunghyun was still there, the last of his friends still standing, and had seen Seokjin walk in first, shoulders hunched and eyes nervous. Namjoon remembers Seunghyun’s voice laughing as he said that the boy wouldn’t last a day here. A lamb in a lion’s den. Unless he has the voice of Kim Junsu with that face, he ain’t getting in, Seunghyun had said. They had made a bet for how long he’d last, a day for Namjoon, an hour for Seunghyun, and they had laughed as they watched Seokjin nervously bow at the crowd of boys in the room and hide away in a corner, practising alone.

 

A few days later, Seunghyun was cut and Seokjin made it past his first week, barely. Namjoon had been too busy mourning the loss of yet another friend to notice Seokjin struggling with his training until he heard the b