Ever since he was but a small child, Namjoon hated loud noises. He couldn’t really explain exactly why; maybe it had something to do with the abruptness disturbing the peaceful aura he always tried to keep around himself. Whatever the reason, Namjoon hated loud noises. This especially included thunder.
When he was four, it was storming terribly outside one evening, so naturally, he ran to his parents from the playroom right next to the living room, seeking comfort.
“Mom! Dad!” little Namjoon cried, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, wide with fear, stretching his chubby arms up to his parents who were sitting on the couch.
“What is it, baby?” his mother asks, concern lacing her voice as she picked up her son and props him up on her lap. The boy doesn’t answer, he just lets out a sob and buries his tear-dampened face in the crook of his mother’s neck.
“Joon,” his father speaks this time. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong,” he said softly while stroking the boy’s head in a soothing fashion. He was attempting to coax him into telling them what was wrong. He wanted to help him, he didn’t like seeing his child cry. It saddened him deeply.
Namjoon lifted his head just enough to look at his father. He continued clinging to his mother with one arm while he wiped his nose with his sleeve with the other, sniffling and trying to contain his tears. “T-tunder scary.”
“The thunder is scaring you?” his mom asked, gently pressing a kiss to her son’s forehead. He nodded.
“Well, thunder is just the angels bowling in Heaven,” his father told Namjoon, trying to console the young boy. He too pressed a kiss to his forehead trying to get him to calm down.
“C-can you please tell them t-to be quiet? It scary.”
The young couple looked at each other and chuckled lightly at their adorable son. “We’ll do what we can, sweetie,” his mother said, kissing him on the top of the head as he crawled off of her lap to sit in between his parents. He pulled the blanket up over his shoulders so that only his head stuck out.
“Good.”
---
Twelve years later, a sixteen year old Namjoon sat in his room with his new best friend Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t much older than he was, in fact he was seventeen, so only a year older. He had only known the older for a little less than a year, and they didn’t get along at first, but they slowly became friends when Namjoon had defended against some classmates making homophobic remarks towards Yoongi.
They were sitting on Namjoon’s bed watching some romantic movie for no other reason than to rip on it (they both secretly enjoyed these types of movies, but they’d never admit it to each other).
“Hey, that girl’s pretty hot,” Yoongi deadpanned pointing to the female lead that was currently on screen.
“Yoongi, we all know you’re gay, nice try,” Namjoon laughed at his friend. Yoongi just shrugged and smirked, reaching over and grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Namjoon’s lap and shoving it in his mouth (the popcorn, not the bowl). Without warning, rain started pouring down, harshly tapping against the glass of the window. Namjoon looked away from the television for a moment gazing out the window. He noticed off in the distance what appeared to be a flash of lightning.
“Oh no,” Namjoon muttered under his breath, but Yoongi had heard him.
“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked gently, taking his focus away from the TV for a moment.
