[BTS] We Make Mistakes
Title: We Make Mistakes
Characters: Nam Joon, Taehyung, ft Yoongi, mentions of Hoseok and Jungkook
Words: 2.9k
Summary: Nam Joon joins the Big Brother program to complete his community service hours.
AN: Set in the same universe as this yoonmin story which means that Jimin is kind of an asshole to Taehyung....
There was only one kid in the lobby. He fidgeted on the bench. He stared down at his shoes, black converse, the right one was unlaced. He should probably retie it. He pulled his beanie down lower on his head. He chewed on his bottom lip.
On the other side of the desk, the secretary typed rapidly while a cigarette rested on her lips. She stopped. She held the cigarette between two fingers and exhaled a stream of smoke.
“Kim Nam Joon,” she called in a monotone voice.
The kid stood up right. He pulled the beanie off his head and smoothed down his black fringe, “I’m Kim Nam Joon, miss.”
She looked up over the rim of her glasses and scoffed, “Seriously, you?”
Nam Joon straightened his back, “Is there a problem, miss?”
“You don’t look like a delinquent,” she continued, “You look like one of those good boys who goes to cram school after school and has a tutor on the weekend.”
“I am number one in my class,” he offered.
Her eyebrows shot up, “Don’t get cocky.” She put the cigarette back in her mouth and began typing again.
Nam Joon fidgeted in place. He looked at the bulletin board, where it was covered with missing children articles and tutoring schedules.
“The program is six weeks long,” the secretary spoke up, causing Nam Joon to jump in place, “You’re kid’s name is Kim Taehyung. He’s an odd kid but you’ll get used to him eventually. Be careful of the… well you’ll see it.” She pulled a sheet from the printer. Nam Joon reached across the counter and grabbed it, it was an instruction guide, for the big brother program.
“Everyone will meet at the potluck on Thursday,” she said.
Nam Joon read over the guidelines, “Thank you, miss.”
She smiled, “If you want, you can see him right now. He’s in the classroom.”
Nam Joon stood for a moment, then stepped to the door and peered through the window. “Which one is Taehyung?” he asked.
“The one with the smile,” she said as explanation.
Nam Joon was momentarily confused until he saw it. The kid with the too wide box smile and the hair that curled at the ends. He was laughing with someone. They were both leaning over a table covered in pencils and notebooks.
Nam Joon thanked the secretary and left, anxious about his first meeting.
~~
Nam Joon’s could feel his sweaty palms through his pants jeans. He wiped them off and straightened the collar of his shirt.
Taehyung stared up at him. His head stopped below Nam Joon’s chest His gaze straight and unnerving poised at Nam Joon’s face. Nam Joon adjusted his collar again.
“Hello,” he said, he stuck out his hand to Taehyung, “I’m Kim Nam Joon.”
Taehyung glared at the hand before hesitantly accepting it, “I know, it says so on your nametag.”
Nam Joon’s nametag was blue with a dolphin in the corner. Taehyung’s was orange with a lion in the corner.
“Right,” Nam Joon took his hand back and nervously wiped the sweat off on his jeans.
“You’re tall.”
“Thanks…Do you want food?”
“What’s a potluck without food,” Taehyung said.
“What do you want? I can make you a plate,” Nam Joon offered.
Taehyung shook his head, no. “Thanks but I can get it.” Taehyung’s hands moved from the armrests and began turning the wheels. Nam Joon watched in amazement as Taehyung carefully maneuvered himself to the end of the food line. He leaned back on his wheelchair and gazed up at Nam Joon, “Just because I’m handicapped doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”
Clearly it didn’t.
Nam Joon was careful not to touch handles on the back of Taehyung’s wheelchair.
And was amazed once again when Taehyung balanced two plates of food, a can of Mountain Dew and a bowl of ice cream as he wheeled back to their table.
~~
Their routine was an easy one.
Twice a week, Nam Joon would wear his only button up shirt that wasn’t a school uniform and meet Taehyung at the middle school entrance. From there they would walk/wheel to the school library where Nam Joon would either help Taehyung with his homework, play card games, or discuss life in general. Taehyung asked all the questions and Nam Joon would answer them.
“How old are you?”
“17.”
“Why is your English so good?”
“I lived in LA for four years,” Nam Joon looked over Taehyung’s completed problem set.
“Why?”
“My dad lives there,” he marked an incorrect answer.
“Why did you leave?”
Nam Joon paused. He twisted the pen in his hand and answered, “My dad didn’t like… he didn’t like one of my friends and forbade from seeing him.”
“You kept seeing him?” Taehyung asked.
“Yes,” Nam Joon began reading over the page for a second time.
“What’s your favorite subject?” Taehyung asked.
“Music.”
“Do you play an instrument?”
“I rap and compose.”
Taehyung stopped shuffling and looked at Nam Joon with wide eyes, “Really.”
Nam Joon nodded in affirmation.
“Can you show me?”
Nam Joon pulled out his ipod. He gave one earbud to Taehyung, and went through his "work in progress" playlist. Taehyung nodded to the beat of every composition.
“I like it.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung gave Nam Joon his smile, the full box one he says for his friends, “You’re like a modern Mozart.”
“I wouldn’t compare myself to Mozart,” Nam Joon laughed.
But he was hoping to get there one day.
~~
On Saturday Afternoons, Nam Joon would spend the hours between 4 and 6 at the juvenile detention center sitting on one end of a metal table bolted to the floor. On the other end was Yoongi. He had a still healing cut on his cheek.
“How are you?” Nam Joon asked.
Yoongi shrugged, “Good I guess… we had waffles for breakfast.”
Yoongi hated waffles. Nam Joon loved them.
Nam Joon looked over Yoongi’s orange jumpsuit and red wrists. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it, “ Yoongi half smiled, “You’re the good kid. You’ll actually do something with your life.”
“I’m still sorry,” Nam Joon said.
A pause.
Around them mothers were sobbing and men were chattering and children were crying.
Nam Joon wiped his damp eyes, “I brought you something.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi smiled.
It was a box of dukkboki. Yoongi’s eyes brightened and his smile grew wider.
They ate in mostly content silence.
“I’m thinking of getting a tattoo when I get out,” Yoongi said.
“Yeah,” Nam Joon spoke with his mouth full.
“Nothing big, just a grey cross on my forearm,” Yoongi said between bites.
Nam Joon looked at Yoongi’s pale arms, with its raised white thin scars, “That will look nice.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi asked.
“Yeah.” Nam Joon smiled.
~~
“I think I’ll bleach my hair,” Taehyung said casually.
“Isn’t that against school rules?” Nam Joon asked. He was pushing Taehyung around the playground near the middle school.
“They don’t care, they’ve already given up on me.”
Nam Joon said nothing. He wheeled them under a large tree where they looked at the kites in the autumn sky.
“The smartest man in the world is in a wheelchair.”
Taehyung looked up. Nam Joon smiled.
“If you learn English they’ll care less about this,” Nam Joon patted the wheelchair, “And more about this,” he poked Taehyung’s forehead.
Taehyung smiled, “Will you tutor me?”
“Of course,” Nam Joon returned the smile.
They watched the children run around, one of the kites got stuck in a tree. They left it abandoned there/
“I think you’ll look good with bleached hair,” Taehyung said casually.
“Yeah?” Nam Joon laughed.
“Yeah,” Taehyung leaned back and gazed up at Nam Joon, “We’ll both be rebels.”
Nam Joon smiled.
~~
Due to student council activities, Nam Joon had to switch from Tuesday and Thursday to Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He found Taehyung to be more moody on these days. His smile wasn’t as wide and he asked less questions. It could be because of puberty or something else…
PE was on those days.
“They were playing soccer today,” Taehyung said. He stared out the window.
“Yeah?” Nam Joon asked.
“Yeah,” Taehyung placed his chin on the palm of his hand, “They all sucked.”
Nam Joon’s seen the photos of Taehyung in a soccer jersey, standing proudly in a row of other eight year olds, with grass stains on his socks and a few teeth missing. The team had been regional champions.
Taehyung is thirteen now. His hand lightly traced over one of the wheels.
Nam Joon spoke, “Can I ask a question?”
“Sure,” Taehyung mumbled.
Nam Joon continued, “What happened to your legs?”
Taehyung didn’t answer.
Taehyung didn’t speak again for the rest of that afternoon. They worked through biology in uncomfortable science.
When Nam Joon got home, he did a quick google search of Taehyung’s name, and found an article from three years ago about a drunk driver in a Honda, and a minivan with only two passengers. One was a middle aged woman whom sprained her wrist in the accident. The other was a young boy whom got a permanently damaged spine.
~~
Nam Joon and Taehyung were in the middle school library on a Wedensday afternoon. Nam Joon methodically shuffled the deck of cards in his hands. Taehyung watched in silent awe.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“At the library?” Nam Joon asked.
“In the Big Brother program,” Taehyung clarified.
At first Taehyung’s straightforward questions had unnerved him. Now Nam Joon was used to them. He paused his shuffling, “I was sentenced to community service for being with a person who possessed a bag of weed.”
“Did you?” Taehyung asked.
“Did I do it?” Nam Joon frowned.
“Were you actually there?” Taehyung asked.
“Yes but it wasn’t his fault.”
“Whose fault was it?”
Nam Joon didn’t answer.
~~
The bag had been Nam Joon’s.
He had got it from an old friend during his most recent trip to LA.
He had hidden it in an airtight bag, in a hollowed out book, wrapped up in dirty laundry, at the bottom of his suitcase.
Nam Joon needed a stress relief and Yoongi’s shit wasn’t nearly strong enough.
It was a large bag.
They spent countless afternoons on the roof of Yoongi’s apartment complex passing Nam Joon’s piece.
“My dad doesn’t let me drive down to Fullerton,” Nam Joon said as he watched the sky burn orange.
“Why?” Yoongi asked, Nam Joon’s multicolored piece in one hand, his lighter in the other.
“Seokjin lives there,” Nam Joon answered.
Yoongi nodded in understanding. He took a hit and made smoke rings that dissipated into the air.
The sky transitioned from orange to purple.
“You still saw him,” Yoongi asked, “Didn’t you?”
No.
Nam Joon had stood in front of Seokjin’s door with a fist made ready to knock, then chickened out at the last minute.
“I slipped a note under his door.”
Yoongi sighed. He handed the piece and the later back to Nam Joon. “You need it more than I do.”
Nam Joon thanked him.
They used half of the bag that afternoon.
~~
It was carelessness that got them caught.
Yoongi made a dumbass decision to light up while on the school roof.
“Fuck Professor Kang,” Yoongi grumbled as he balanced the piece in one hand and the bag in the other, “He can’t just play fucking favorites. Tiffany and Nickhun kiss all the time.”
“Tiffany is a girl,” Nam Joon sighed, “Hoseok is a boy.”
Yoongi glared.
Nam Joon shrugged.
Yoongi sighed and took a hit.
“At least we don’t fuck in the supply closets,” he exhaled.
At that time the principal opened the door to the roofs. She has a box of cigarettes in one hand, a lighter in the other, and an expression of shock on her face. Nam Joon didn’t even know she could make that face with all the botox in her cheeks.
The cops were called, they were brought to the police station. Before Nam Joon could confess, Yoongi shouted, “It’s mine! Nam Joon had nothing to do with it! If you test you’ll find that he’s sober.”
They tested anyway. Nam Joon was confirmed clean and Yoongi had to wait for his sentence.
Nam Joon gripped Yoongi’s arm, “Why?”
“Because you’re not a fuck up,” Yoongi answered, “Because you’re number one in our class and I’m the guy who kisses other guys. They’re never going to trust me.”
Nam Joon’s grip tightened, “What about your dad?”
Yoongi’s eyes dampened, “He already hates me.”
There was a paperwork that they needed Yoongi to fill out. Nam Joon let go. He watched as they handcuffed Yoongi and took him to the back room.
Nam Joon sat on the front steps of the police station and cried.
~~
While Nam Joon had not been in possession of the weed, he was still an accomplice. He had to face some sort of punishment. They sentenced him to community service.
Nine weeks later, the Big Brother program for the fall season was almost finished.
Nam Joon sat across from Taehyung as he figured math problems from a high school entrance exam workbook.
Taehyung stuck his tongue out as he worked through the numbers. It was his third attempt. The answer was still wrong.
“Why don’t we take a break?” Nam Joon offered.
Taehyung shook his head, no.
“You’re obviously tired. Maybe you can tackle the problem later from a fresh perspective,” Nam Joon tried.
Again Taehyung shook his head.
Nam Joon looked at him. Taehyung hunched over the paper, leaning over the edges of the armrests of his wheelchair.
“Taehyung what’s wrong?” Nam Joon asked.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Taehyung answered.
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
Taehyung stopped writing.
“Taehyung?”
“Next week is the last one,” Taehyung said, he was still staring down at his papers, but not really reading the problems “Everyone else left.”
Nam Joon stared, “What do you mean left?”
Taehyung sighed, “Everyone who I’ve ever been partnered with left after the first week. They didn’t want to take care of the boring kid in the wheelchair.” Taehyung turned the pencil in his hands, “You’re the only one who’s ever lasted the full term.”
Nam Joon held Taehyung’s pencil still. Taehyung finally looked at him. Nam Joon gave a reassuring smile, “I’m not gone yet.”
Taehyung gave a slight smile in return.
They gave up on math homework and played cards instead.
Taehyung won. Nam Joon fell dramatically to the floor when he lost. They laughed.
They laughed.
~~
The secretary typed rapidly on her keyboard. She grabbed her cigarette and snubbed it on an overflowing ashtray.
“You already completed your community service requirements. You don’t have to register again,” she explained.
“I know,” Nam Joon smiled, “But I’d still like to do it.”
She smiled fondly, “I knew you were one of the good ones.” She handed over the paperwork and Nam Joon gleefully filled out the forms.
~~
Nam Joon wore his wool lined hoodie and black jeans.
Yoongi wore the orange jumpsuit of the juevenile detention center. The cut on his cheek had healed. Now there was only a feint white scar.
“Are you sure you can survive eight more months of this?” Nam Joon asked.
Yoongi smirked, “I’ve been through worse.”
He really has.
“Now where’s the dukkbokki?” Yoongi demanded.
Nam Joon rolled his eyes and pulled the bag from by his feet. Yoongi laughed. Nam Joon smiled.
“Did you bring anything else?” Yoongi asked between mouthfuls.
“Yeah,” Nam Joon spoke with his mouth full, “I brought two things.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled two envelopes. “This one,” he explained as he handed over the plain white envelope, “is from your brother Jungkook.”
Yoongi stilled at that. He tentatively took the envelope and unfolded the letter. Nam Joon ate as Yoongi’s eyes scanned over the words. His eyes were damp by the time he finished. “How is he?” Yoongi asked.
“He’s great. His basketball team has won every game this season,” Nam Joon answered.
Yoongi half laughed, “My legacy survived.”
A pause.
A baby cried on the other side of the room.
“I’ll try to sneak him in next week,” Nam Joon said.
“I don’t want him to see me like this,” Yoongi folded the letter again.
“He wants to see you,” Nam Joon enforced, “You can’t stop him even if you wanted to.”
Yoongi licked his lips, “Thank you.”
He wiped his eyes and gave a small smile, “What’s the other one?”
Nam Joon’s smile grew wider. He held up the yellow envelope with the US postal code, “Seokjin wrote me.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened, “Really?”
“Really. He’s coming to Seoul to study abroad for a year.”
“That’s great!” Yoongi beamed.
It was. Nam Joon couldn’t keep the smile off his face. They finished the dukbokki, they finished visiting hours, and Nam Joon was still smiling.
~~
It was the potluck for winter season.
Taehyung pulled nervously on the wheels of his chair, he rolled back and forth in place.
He wanted to make an impression, so he bleached his hair. Well he tried to bleach his hair, he somehow turned it orange.
“Kim Taehyung?”
Taehyung looked up, his face broke into a box smile.
Nam Joon smiled down, his own hair was a white ash color. He held out his hand, “I’m Kim Nam Joon. It’s nice to meet you.”
Taehyung took his hand and shook it enthusiastically, “It’s nice to meet you, Kim Nam Joon.”
“Same,” Nam Joon beamed.