... And Other Ships

NamGi: Super Villain

"I find it so hard to be a hero." -  Super Villain (小鬼 and NYK)

 The smell of fire came from all around; everything had been burnt to the ground. The fire had consumed everything. Nothing was left but heaps of ash and the bent steel frame of the building. The beams spiralled down into wicked shapes, creating a sort of cage around him. He was trapped with nowhere to go, lest he be impaled by one of the beams that held him in place. 

The ash blew with the wind, falling like some demented form of snow. The dead silence of the night, punctuated by small clumps of fire here and there, created an eery calm; it was the calm after a complete disaster. 

He knew he wasn't alone. 

The shadows moved in a way that couldn't be natural; they seemed to be three-dimensional. They moved around the outside of the building-made-cage, monitoring their prisoner with their invisible eyes. It didn't strike fear into his heart, but rather saddened him. He didn't know how he got into this position. 

"You just want to see the world burn, don't you?"

"Cut the shit, Namjoon."

That voice...it rang in his ears in a much different way than it used to. It was no longer pleasant, able to ease any worry in Namjoon's head. Instead, it was a sinister monotone, laced with hurt and a million other emotions. 

Namjoon shook his head. "At least come out of the shadows, hyung. I want to see you." 

Footsteps approached the cage. A man materialized from the shadows, dressed in a nice suit with his ebony hair combed back. An onyx ring rested on his pinky, swirling with his power. There was no tenderness left in his eyes; nothing but contempt and malice inhabited them. 

Min Yoongi was no longer beautiful. He had committed too many atrocities to be seen as beautiful in Namjoon's eyes. 

"You know, Namjoon, it didn't have to come to this," he said, adjusting the black leather glove on one hand. 

Namjoon glared at Yoongi. "Then why did it, huh? What have you become?" 

A dark laugh echoed throughout the deadly silent night. "I tried so hard to make you notice me, Kim Namjoon. I just wanted your companionship, but you refused to give it to me." 

-------

It all started in high school. 

Min Yoongi was the "weird kid" who refused to speak or dress in bright colors. Everyone called him the Ghost due to his pale skin and unsettling nature. He had no friends, but he did have a crush. 

Kim Namjoon was a very smart boy. His parents wanted him to become a civil servant, so he studied hard to earn their approval. He was in the same foundations of music production class as Yoongi; Namjoon's hobby of underground rap battles was only known by Yoongi and Yoongi alone. 

Of course, Yoongi crushed hard on Namjoon. He was fascinating to the older man; his brain was beautiful and he knew that he would grow up to become a beautiful adult, too. 

But Namjoon never noticed Yoongi, never paid him any attention. He was easily swayed by the entire student body; rumors had built up over the years about Yoongi, and Namjoon believed them all. 

To the others, Yoongi was a bad kid. He bullied one kid so badly that they found him dead in his room a month later. He'd caused several others to transfer schools or move cities. He was caught up in gang activity, which was why he had no family. 

Lies, all of it. But only Yoongi knew that those were lies. No one would listen to him when he tried to defend himself, so he just gave up clearing his name. 

But he was nice to Namjoon. 

He did small things to show he cared about the boy. He left notes in his locker, poems upon poems of everything Yoongi was too afraid to admit out loud. When Namjoon had heart surgery, he visted him in the hospital. Whenever Namjoon was awake, he would leave a care package at the front desk for the nurses to give to him. In class, he would help Namjoon work his way around the soundboard, since Yoongi had taught himself when he was about fourteen. 

He did all of this, yet Namjoon acted like everyone else did. He turned away and pretended Yoongi was just a shadow. 

Even in their adult lives, they were coworkers at an entertainment industry: two esteemed music producers. 

Years and years of being treated in such a way warped Yoongi. He decided if he was going to be treated like a villain, a shadow, then he would become the villain.

-------

"You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain." Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Namjoon. "You told me that once. Well, guess what?" He gestured to himself, one eye glowing green. "Here I am." 

Namjoon sighed, darting his eyes to a pile of ash several feet away. "Still, you didn't have to do this, Yoongi-hyung. What happened to the guy I know?" 

"You never knew me!" Yoongi snapped, "You believed everyone else! You never asked me how I felt! You just know the version of me people made up over the years!"

Black tears ran from Yoongi's eyes, leaving ravines along his cheeks and down his neck. "But I knew all your secrets, Kim Namjoon. Meant to be a civil servant, but had a passion for hip-hop. A deadly heart condition left you with a huge scar on your chest. Your parents divorced due to infidelity, and you swore to never be like them. You're demisexual, though you felt like no one else had to know unless you planned to date them. I know you, Kim Namjoon. And you never cared to get to know me."

Namjoon's eyes widened as he heard a creaking above him. He knew the beams were coming closer, warping into sharp spikes to pierce through him. He kept his eyes trained on Yoongi. 

"I tried to show you how much I cared about you. I tried so hard and did everything I could. Nothing was good enough for you, though. When will I ever be good enough for you, Kim Namjoon!?" 

Yoongi was sobbing hard. It caused him physical pain to cry; his tears would leave major scarring. He always thought about the symbolism behind it: Weakness hurts, Yoongi. You must never be weak, lest you forever be in pain. 

He got up in Namjoon's face. "This is all your fault," he whispered, then turned. 

As he walked away, he heard the creaking of steel and the cut-off scream of a man he once loved. 

He didn't want to see the world burn; he wanted to burn it to the ground for what it did to him. Now, the catalyst for this entire mess was dead.