This story is already fully written, it is 43k words and 11 parts. Each part will be released on Monday at 21:00 CET, this is part one, and was a commission!
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There was a stillness in the air that Namjoon didn't know what to do about; he felt as if his own heartbeat and heavy panting were louder than a herd of horses running across the street.
Fighting not to look back over his shoulder, Namjoon pushed his body forward, one step at a time. He could not afford to stop. He was trying his hardest to push away that fear that was threatening to crawl up his throat and release itself.
How had it all gone so horribly wrong? This wasn't how any of it was meant to work.
He could feel the blood slowly flowing down his arm, and he hoped that the bullet had not hit something he couldn't live without.
He thought he heard noises behind him, alarms and sounds that somebody was following him, but he knew that it could also just be his own paranoia.
The bright light of some obnoxious sign forced him to focus on the world around him; it was cold, and the snow was slowly falling in perfect little snowflakes, the weather and late hours enough to keep most of the city's citizens indoors, meaning that Namjoon could drag his barely alive body through the streets without being noticed.
He didn't know where to go.
He didn't know where he could even go.
They knew where he lived, and while 4 hours ago, he would have been convinced that they would never have hurt him, that had been proven wrong, deadly wrong.
He couldn't believe this was the world they lived in, that this was the world he lived in. He would be killed, and it would be covered up. He had so much belief in the system, in everything he had worked for his entire life, only for it to be shattered in the same span that it took somebody taking their morning piss.
Namjoon didn't know who he could trust anymore; actually, he was pretty sure he could trust nobody. They were meant to be his friends! They were meant to be doing the right thing! When had doing the right thing meant getting shot by your own friends?!
His mind was reeling; maybe it was the blood loss that made every step he took feel as if he was dragging his body across hot coals, while everything was spinning. Actually, it was 100% the blood loss.
He was going to die.
Kim Namjoon would die at the age of 29, one of the youngest detectives that the country had ever had. He would die at the hands of those he called friends, simply because he chose to believe in the good of people.
How had he been so wrong?
Stupid...
Stupid...
Namjoon.
He had nobody... nowhere to turn... nobody who would help him, nobody who would save him.
He lived and breathed his job, and now that had turned against him. His family was hundreds of kilometres away, and they would most likely never hear of his death as his body would never be found.
They would think he ran away.
Or maybe that his job got him killed. They would be right, but not in the way that they thought. Not that those he was meant to trust the most—those he laughed with during a shift and had a late dinner with during overtime—would be the ones to finish him off. All because of corruption, all because while it was important for Namjoon to do the right thing, nobody else seemingly cared.
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The Bottom Namjoon Collection!
FanfictionA collection of many different Namjoon centric / Bottom Namjoon, stories that I have written over the years!
