Hiding the Worst News

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Requested by @LovingDimples and SanikasKulkarni

warning: blood, violence

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There was a bright glint of metal, Namjoon remembered. The audience was huge but somehow that stood out to him. He stared at it for a few seconds, forgetting where he was, only wondering what the heck the bright flash was. A shiny sign the fan had made perhaps? A brand new lightstick that even Namjoon didn't know about?

Then there was a sudden crack and Namjoon recoiled in horror. He didn't hear it well through his earpieces but he felt how the crowd reacted. People seemed to be unaware of what exactly happened, but aware that something had indeed happened. He would've joined into their confusion if he could've.

Instead, he felt the most agonizing pain rip through his arm. Namjoon gritted his teeth as his eyes filled up with tears. He felt something sharp go through his skin and through the bone of his arm. It took all his strength not to cry and scream. Luckily he was wearing a jacket and didn't have to see the damage.

He expected the whole concert to stop. For all the members to rush over and demand an explanation for all the commotion. But... nothing happened. People panicked for a second but nothing scary followed. People calmed down. It hadn't been anything bad.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea - maybe it was a downright stupid idea - but Namjoon decided he was going to follow that idea too.

He pretended that nothing had happened.

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"Did something happen?" Yoongi asked as soon as they got backstage. "I saw people kind of flailing around. Not that I can see that well, but still."

"Flailing around?" Jimin asked. "What were you even looking at?"

"Oh, himself probably," Jin said. "Don't take him too seriously. I make that mistake every so often."

"No, did something happen?" Yoongi asked.

Namjoon hurried past them. He checked the setlist as he went. Great. There was only an hour and a half left. He could mention that it had happened later. In the meantime, he could deal with the discomfort that he was feeling.

"Okay guys, you all have five minutes to get changed," the manager called. "Go, hurry up!"

Namjoon grabbed his clothes with his good arm and hurried into the bathroom. It was a small cubicle and he barely had enough room to stand upright in there. He hung his new clothes on a hook.

He felt dizzy. Confronting that new feeling with a boldness he never knew he had, he slowly slid the jacket off. There was blood encrusted on the sleeve. It wasn't super visible though. He threw it onto the floor. There wasn't enough time to sort it out.

His shirt was worse. It wasn't dripping blood like he had thought there would be, but there were several spots where blood had soaked through. And if he dared to move his arm an inch, his entire body would flood with pain.

Namjoon tried to take his shirt off. He tried to lift his arms above his head. His hurt arm couldn't get high enough. In the end, he gave up. The stylists would start banging on the door if he didn't hurry out fast enough.

He threw his new jacket onto his old shirt. It wasn't super obvious that he hadn't changed. Nobody but the stylists would notice.

And soon enough, when he came out, his stylist was standing in front of the door, eyes narrowing.

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