[namjoon/seokjin] my heart isn't bulletproof
a|n all i did was read about their trainee struggles and thought of dynamics among trainees that had more talent than others but didn't get in or cut in comparison to prettier, less-talented members, and came up with 4k of angsty rap/jin and character studying :|
The taste of copper fills Namjoon’s mouth when he bites his lips down hard to keep from moaning. His face is scrunched up with disgust at the burning sensation in his belly. He isn’t supposed to like this, he thinks, thrusting into Seokjin’s open and willing mouth, he’s supposed to hate him.
Seokjin moans around his cock, the sensations driving Namjoon to thrust inside the heat of his mouth faster, ignoring the pain of Seokjin’s nails digging into his ass or Seokjin’s ability to keep up with him. He just wants to get this over with.
“Fuck-” 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 fuck 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 ass in the practise room until the moment he leaves it. Seokjin can’t rap for shit 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 fucks 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 boy’s voice crack for the first time.
The younger kids had giggled at him while the older ones remained steely faced, spectators to Seokjin’s blushes and fumbling with apologies at the vocal instructor. Namjoon had stopped writing down raps so he could the vocal instructor’s reaction, waiting for the lamb to cry and break down at the vocal instructor’s insults. But when Namjoon sees the vocal instructor’s hand gently touch Seokjin’s shoulder and sees the vocal instructor’s face relax into a look of sympathy, Namjoon’s blood boils.
Namjoon notices this treatment repeat itself every time Seokjin struggles with a dance step or embarrasses himself rapping to Beezino. It makes Namjoon remember every single insult flung at him by the instructors, of how useless he was at dancing. And of how his flow was terrible and how he was probably going to get cut soon every time after he passed, all the uncertainty and the tears shed in the bathrooms after hours of verbal abuse and jabs. All of it comes rushing back to Namjoon. Namjoon’s hands ball into fists as he watches Seokjin smile and thank the instructors for their kindness. The thought of punching Seokjin’s smile off his face flashes through his mind.
Namjoon wasn’t the only one who had noticed the special treatment. The bullying starts slow and quiet, a pair of shoes buried in the compost bin there, a hour locked in the shower room here. The practise room wasn't kind to favourites.
There is a bet passed around, for how long Seokjin will last, Yoongi bets a day, Jimin another hour. Namjoon feels generous and gives Seokjin another week.
One night, when the instructors disappear for a few moments and they had their lunch, two boys decided to strike out in the open. No one knows what made them snap, the way Seokjin was vulnerable, sitting alone perhaps, or the heat of the practise room on this late summer night. One of them steals Seokjin’s portion of rice and soup while the other grabbed Seokjin, slamming him onto the floor. Namjoon watches them from a safe distance, knowing that they’re fools but he can’t help the smirk that stretches across his face.
Seokjin pleads and begs with them to no avail, they all just snicker and laugh as they take off Seokjin’s shirt and jacket and jeans, leaving him in nothing but his tanktop and boxers and Seokjin becomes a snivelling mess, shaking in the middle of the cold practise room.
Everyone laughs at Seokjin’s misery and his two attackers hide his food and clothes. They all return back to eating once the deed is done and Namjoon focuses on his rice when Seokjin’s eyes wander in his direction, trying to block out his tear-streaked face from his mind.
Namjoon grins against the ceramic, there was something about seeing Seokjin so helpless and weak that exhilarated Namjoon, the sense of power in seeing him defeated and the thought of all the privileges that Seokjin had gotten in his life were finally biting him in the ass . It gave Namjoon a feeling of satisfaction, the feeling of justice being served.
But it was short-lived, the instructors had returned quickly to the practise room and were furious, threatening to kick out every single one of them if they did reveal who had done this to poor Seokjin. Everyone immediately squealed and the two boys were cut. A bitter taste fills Namjoon’s mouth.
Tensions were high as they were whittled down to twenty from the sixty that they had started with. Namjoon’s muscles constantly burned and ached and he was barely getting enough sleep. He was so close, but all he could dream about was him getting cut and Seokjin smirking at him, another average looking boy with his dreams shot. The idea of Seokjin’s mocking face infuritated him, fuelling him to write angry lyrics and spit them out faster and harder than he had ever done in the practise room. He danced until he was about to pass out, and he sang until his vocal cords felt like they were going to be ripped out. The instructors were impressed and he easily survived the next two cuts.
“You’re really good,” A soft voice breaks through Namjoon’s haze and Namjoon looks up to see Seokjin, shyly smiling at him. Namjoon’s exhaustion turns into annoyance in less than five seconds.
“I’m really useless compared to you,” Seokjin had said, blushing. Namjoon says nothing to him in return. He stands up slowly, trying to loom over the older boy. He smiled inwardly when Seokjin takes two steps back.
“That’s because you are,” Namjoon said to him, seething, “Another useless, pretty boy getting nothing he deserves.”
Seokjin’s face fell and Namjoon scoffs at him, his shoulder shoving him slightly before he leaves the room.
6 more gone, 14 to go and Namjoon is at his breaking point. After his eyes nearly black out during warmups, he rushes into the bathroom and hyperventilates into the toilet. He struggles to breathe and think, begging himself not to explode just now until he hears that soft voice again.
“Namjoon,” Seokjin’s voice echoes in the bathroom, “Namjoon, are you okay, hyung asked me to check on you.”
Namjoon breathes heavily and he hears knocking against his stall door. “Namjoon, are you okay?”
“Fuck off,” He says barely, clutching at the toilet seat. The door opens and Namjoon cringes inwardly, teeth clenched together. “I said fuck off.”
“Namjoon,” Seokjin rushes over to him, touching his shoulder, “Oh my god, you look horrible.”
The pity in his voice is too much for Namjoon to handle.
Seokjin doesn’t expect Namjoon to get up so fast. Namjoon slams him against the bathroom wall, his face so close to his own, nearly snarling and grabbing his shirt tightly.
Seokjin’s body trembles under his grip but he still manages to say defiantly, “I’m not scared of you, I’m older than you.”
Namjoon laughs bitterly at him and Seokjin whimpers as his hot breath runs down his neck. His elbow digs into Seokjin’s chest and his hand grabs a handful of Seokjin’s hair, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. Namjoon presses his mouth against it, whispering against it.
“You’re a useless sack of shit that should have been dropped from this company since the day you stepped through that door,” Namjoon’s words are filled with venom, “Why the fuck are you still here.”
“Maybe because I’m more useful to them than you are,” Seokjin says, his voice shaking. That word uttering through Seokjin’s mouth breaks something inside of Namjoon-control, sanity?--and he bites down hard at Seokjin’s pale skin. Seokjin cries out and Namjoon’s palm slams down over his mouth, he doesn’t want to hear his voice at all.
He lifts up Seokjin’s shirt with his free hand and places his knees in between Seokjin’s thighs, rutting against his crotch, biting whatever skin that was closest as Seokjin moans against his hand. He breaks the skin and makes it bloom purple. He releases Seokjin’s mouth when he’s done bruising his skin and pulls away, watching as Seokjin struggles to hold himself up.
He sees the bulge in Seokjin’s pants and the smile that forms across Seokjin’s face, and Namjoon desperately wants to slap him.
“You do like me,” Seokjin whispers excitedly, “I knew that there was a reason you stared at me so much, or insulted me, I knew you liked me--”
That does it again for Namjoon and he slaps Seokjin hard across the face. The look of pain and anguish that grows on Seokjin's face fills Namjoon with glee.
“I don’t like you, I hate everything about you, how weak you are, how talentless you are,” Namjoon grabs onto Seokjin's shirt and glares at him, his slap still ringing in their ears. “I hate everything single fibre of your useless body.”
Namjoon breathes heavily and he feels Seokjin's chest rise and fall quickly, watching his eyes dilate. Namjoon is surprised when Seokjin's face relaxes and narrows his eyes, as if he wanted to see how far Namjoon could go.
“Show me how much you hate me,” Seokjin says, his voice small, sounding like a fucking made for TV movie, “Show me.” His voice sounds desperate and pathetic, but Namjoon does.
Namjoon doesn’t under why he’s doing this, he thinks it’s too much, that he’s going too far when he fucks Seokjin against the mirror of the practise room when it’s empty, making him watch himself moan and beg for Namjoon’s bites and hard thrusts or fucks his throat raw in the bathroom stalls, he doesn’t know why it makes him feel so good, the power of making Seokjin come undone, breaking him and but still managing to leave him craving for more.
He doesn’t know why he gets a rush in seeing the bruises on Seokjin’s neck when his shirt hangs too low when he bends over or the bites around his wrists. He just has this blind urgency to take and mark him, to conquer and break him. It's insane, but Namjoon knows he’d be able to stop if Seokjin weren't so eager to be conquered and broken.
He doesn't understand why Seokjin wants it, he doesn't understand the look of fear mixed with lust when Namjoon corners him in the practise room and unzips his jeans wordlessly to palm at his dick, he doesn't understand why Seokjin drops so willingly to his knees when he drags him into an empty bathroom stall or why sweet moans of his name and faster that pass through Seokjin's lips when he takes him against the stall door after he comes down his throat. He doesn't understand why even after he shoves Seokjin away or insults him or pulls away from his kisses or attempts of affection afterwards why Seokjin still comes back. There were so many other guys with decent faces and nicer personalities--and who might actually like him---why did he want him?
They’re down to the final ten, and Namjoon is still left with these unanswered questions.
A new challenger enters the ring, a guy named Taehyung, who might be better looking than Seokjin and has a decent singing voice. Three guys are almost immediately cut upon his arrival.
Rumours float around them their now small circle that this is it, that the seven of them will be a group, but Namjoon doesn’t hold his breath.
He simmers when he sees the new kid sit next to Seokjin and watches them talk, he watches Seokjin’s skin crinkle into a smile and him share his lunch with the new kid, noticing that he was the most relaxed he's been in a while.
It annoys him for reasons he doesn’t want to acknowledge, and he tries to block them out.
When practise is over, Namjoon stays behind to run through a few routines. He hears Taehyung offer to take Seokjin out to dinner and catches the hesitation in Seokjin’s voice. Taehyung demands that he come with him playfully and Seokjin relents. Namjoon looks up and sees Seokjin watching him before they turn and leave the room. Namjoon ignores the unfamiliar feeling of disappointment that sits in his belly.
A few hours pass and Namjoon is still there and plans to stay overnight. He’s surprised to see Seokjin return with Chinese takeout. Seokjin locks the door behind him.
“Taehyung had to go home,” Seokjin tells Namjoon, as if he cares. Namjoon sits crosslegged by the CD player and barely nods at him. Seokjin pads over and sits by him, handing him a box of black bean noodles. Namjoon opens the carton and stuffs his face with the chopsticks Seokjin hands him.
“Thanks,” He mutters and Seokjin’s face lights up. Namjoon burps and puts the carton aside. Seokjin fidgets, like he always does before they fuck, and touches his hair distractedly. Namjoon spreads out his legs and Seokjin crawls in between them.
Namjoon forces Seokjin closer and kisses him before he can stop himself, sliding his tongue into Seokjin’s mouth, and the older boy instantly kisses him back, holding on to his shoulders and placing Namjoon’s hand on his hip. He grinds down Namjoon’s lap and he whines into his mouth, swallowing Namjoon’s moans.
“I saw you watching us,” Seokjin murmurs against his lips as Namjoon unzips his pants and his hand smooths over the curve of his ass, “You were jealous.”
“Shut up and let me suck your dick,” Namjoon growls, his voice annoyed and tired. Seokjin’s eyes widen and he smiles, removing his pants. Namjoon asks him to lie down and Seokjin does. Namjoon kneels down, hovering over him before he takes him in his mouth, much to Seokjin’s surprise.
Bleary-eyed and silently wishing for a warm bed to do this on, Namjoon fucks Seokjin into the wooden floor, his thrusts slow and unexpectedly gentle. He shuts his eyes, grunting as Seokjin’s back arches, desperate whimpers slipping out of Seokjin’s mouth and he tries to shush him, placing kisses into Seokjin’s neck, his face blushing when he feels Seokjin shiver.
He comes inside of Seokjin and pulls out slowly. He zips up his pants and collapses next to Seokjin, eyes drooping. He doesn’t push Seokjin away when Seokjin turns to his side and presses close to him.
Seokjin cups Namjoon’s cheek, making the tired boy look at him, and rubs his cheek with his thumb, watching Namjoon lick his lips and eye him carefully.
“Do you really still hate me,” Seokjin whispers. No, Namjoon thinks, so his eyes dart away, hoping Seokjin thinks it means yes. But Seokjin knows him better.
“You’ve been such an asshole to me,” Seokjin mutter, his voice catching. “I shouldn’t have never come back for this, I shouldn’t have taken all that abuse.”
“But I knew that, deep down, that all that name calling and insults, underneath all of that anger, was a scared little boy,” Seokjin’s tone is even but his voice is gentle. Namjoon looks away, embarrassed and his eyes burning. “A little boy that was scared that he was going to lose his dreams, so I took all that hatred and anger, because I wanted to see you happy, I thought maybe this that’s you could become more brave.”
“But I was doing more harm than good,” Seokjin becomes quiet and Namjoon doesn’t look at him. He drops his hand and gets up. He zips up his jeans and stands up to leave. Namjoon swallows thickly, feeling like garbage when Seokjin heads to the door. Seokjin looks over at him but Namjoon can't look at him in the eyes.
“You never had to hate me in order to succeed Namjoon,” Seokjin says, “You never had to hate anybody, you were always going to succeed Namjoon. You always will.”
The door slams behind Seokjin and Namjoon cries for the first time in months.
One last cut and it’s not Namjoon, his shoulders drop in relief, it’s not him. He made it.
Namjoon looks at the five other kids that he’s going to have to spend months practising and making into a unit, but his eyes only notices Seokjin laughing and hugging Taehyung. Seokjin turns and sees Namjoon, and he smiles. Namjoon notices his smile not reaching his eyes like usual and Namjoon looks away from him, biting back the feeling of guilt burning in his chest.
In a few months, they become Bangtan Scouts, Bulletproof Scouts, and he trades Namjoon for Rap Monster. It’s much easier to get closer with the other boys with the constant competition out of the picture. But he doesn’t ignore Taehyung’s guarded eyes watching his every move; especially when he passes by Seokjin, trying his best to ignore him.
He is given the leadership role, which he attests to being around the longest and he pretends he doesn’t see Seokjin’s proud face when it’s announced.
Seokjin becomes Jin and he’s the visual, which doesn’t surprise Namjoon, and it bothers him when he is given so few lines, that old feeling of resentment lingering, but when he sees Jin nailing the dance moves and his lines at an almost faster rate than the more talented boys. At least he’s learned some things these past months, Namjoon thinks to himself, trying to will away the smile creeping on his face.
The debut date is set for some time in June and Namjoon is excited, the song sounds decent, and their choreography is almost perfect, but Namjoon worries if all of this, every single thing he’s done so far, was worth it.
Each of the boys get to choose a trademark symbol from their debut, something to make them stand out. The boys choose one thing but Taehyung stops Seokjin before he does.
“His face is so pretty he already stands out,” Taehyung says teasingly and the rest of the boys laugh when Seokjin smacks him. Namjoon disregards the ache in his chest.
“I’ll choose shades,” Namjoon mutters, and everyone looks at him. The manager takes note of it on his clipboard.
“Why shades?” He asks and Namjoon shrugs, “I guess, I just want people to see me and my music, not my face. Music’s all that matters to me.”
The manager nods, scribbling it down. Yoongi, who’s sitting next to him, shakes his shoulder encouragingly and Namjoon looks down at his shoes.
Their debut stage, and everyone is extremely nervous. Jeongguk has been hyperventilating in the bathroom for the past hour and Jimin is the only one he’ll let check on him. Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi practise quietly together, and Seokjin does his best to encourage everyone.
Namjoon just sits, watching the hairdresser comb through his hair, eyes covered with black shades and taking in deep breaths. After the two years of anxiety and fear, this debut stage seems like nothing to him.
A soft hand touches his shoulder and he looks up to Seokjin, with kind eyes and a gentle smile, a smile that he doesn’t deserve.
“Are you ready, Leader?” Seokjin asks him, excitedly. Namjoon struggles to swallow the lump in his throat and can only nod. Seokjin grins at him and moves away, rushing towards Jimin leading a pale-faced Jeongguk back into the waiting room, arm slung around his neck.
When they reach backstage, Namjoon doesn’t know what to say, everything gets garbled on his tongue, even the lyrics he has to remember. But then he feels warmth slip into his hand. He looks up to Seokjin, eyes so bright that Namjoon feels his tongue loosen and a smile forms embarrassingly on his face.
Seokjin lets go and everyone looks at Namjoon expectantly. Namjoon clears his throat and murmurs, “Let’s just this shit over with it.”
Everyone nods, smiling and Namjoon blinks when Seokjin throws his hand in the middle of the six of them. Everyone laughs and place their hands over Seokjin. Namjoon pauses and everyone wait for him. Namjoon snorts and throws it over their hands.
“1, 2, 3, we are bulletproof.” Namjoon roars and the boys roar back. Seokjin beams a smile at him and Namjoon can’t help but have it swell his heart.
*
“Told you,” Seokjin tells him and Namjoon rolls his eyes. They’re sitting together at a table next to a food tent, splitting a bowl of ddukbokki. It feels weird for them to be sitting like this, so normal, almost like friends.
Seokjin stuffs his face and blushes when he realizes that it’s half-finished, “Sorry, I’m just not used to getting so much food. I have a lot of siblings.”
Namjoon nods and pushes the bowl towards Seokjin, he suddenly doesn’t feel very hungry. “Have the rest.”
Seokjin nods and blushes, taking the rest. Namjoon lowers his head, his stomach burns as he stuff his hands into his pocket, it makes his mouth taste bitter.
“Why..” Namjoon starts but stops himself and Seokjin looks up, confused, “Hmm?”
“Why did you…” Namjoon continues, taking his time, “Why did you let me do those things to you. Are you a masochist? Why are you anywhere near me?”
Seokjin shrugs, his face turning red from spice or embarrassment, Namjoon isn’t sure, “I, I just…I liked it….I liked you. I don’t know I guess I wanted you, so I let you do those things because I liked it, and you were the only one who would tell me the truth. You don’t make things easy for me, none of you did, but I knew it with you, I knew that I was nothing special, that I had to work hard.”
Seokjin licks his spoon and places into the empty bowl. “I guess I’m just fucked up that way.”
Namjoon snorts, “You’re telling me.”
Seokjin pouts and kicks Namjoon, who laughs. Seokjin grins, “I think this is the first time I’ve heard you laugh.”
Namjoon’s face drops and Seokjin snickers, to which Namjoon gives him a swift kick to his shin.
They leave the outdoor tent, thanking the ahjusshi. Once they were close to the dorms, Seokjin links their arms together and Namjoon pretends it because he’s cold.
Seokjin leans his head against his shoulder and Namjoon feels a blush creep up his throat, he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve Seokjin being so kind to him.
The other boys are huddled in Jeongguk’s and Jimin’s dorm room, probably doing something illegal but they’re both too tired to care, they go inside of Seokjin’s room and Seokjin giggles as Namjoon takes his clothes off slowly, smiling and pulling his lip between his teeth, tasting the spice and the perpetual sweetness in his mouth because Seokjin is a sugar fiend.
They fuck quietly and Seokjin murmurs something Namjoon doesn’t think he wants to hear, so he buries his head next to Seokjin’s neck. They lace their hands and they groan, coming together. Their chests rise and fall together and Namjoon collapses into Seokjin, shuddering and trying not to cry. Seokjin holds him and whispers the same three words in his ears, almost like a prayer.
I forgive you
Forgiveness is like penance, you beg and pray for it but you never really know when it’s given to you until it’s too late, but the squeeze of Seokjin’s hand and his reassuring eyes makes him feel like it’s possible to be forgiven. He just needs to be able to forgive himself.