I Need Your Euphoria⇿ NamBTS

- One's Grief III -

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Namjoon felt his back ache, still sore from the past nights he spent sleeping on the cold, concrete floor. He groaned quietly, cursing under his breath as he struggled to sit up, hands still tied. He leaned against the walls, eyes dead with emotion as he took in his surroundings.

The bright rays from a single bulb in the room became his only source of light, Namjoon tried adjusting to its blinding view. He let his body stay still, allowing the numbness to slowly fade.

Gradually regaining his conscious again, Namjoon could finally see the current state that he was in. Huge spots of purple bruised on the pale skin of his chest. The pattern trailed down til it reached his thighs, leaving his body tainted with such vulgarity. He winced painfully as he ran his fingers through them, choking back tears.

Then, the next thing that caught his eye were his own clothing. Namjoon's white button down shirt, one of his favourites out the wardrobe, was almost shredded to nothing. What lay on his body were nothing more than pieces of ripped fabric, buttons falling out and holes cutting through, revealing skin. Needless to say, his pants were nowhere to be seen, leaving him with only boxers.

What the hell happened?

Like a rollercoaster ride, Namjoon felt his head spun as he attempt to collect his memories of last night.

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The radio went static. Great. His only source of entertainment gave up now too. Just like his hopes.

Namjoon let out a frustrated sigh, setting down his notebook on the desk. Walking over to the small electronic stereo, he gave it a little pat before turning it off. "Well, thanks for keeping me company for the past few days."

Now bored that his only fun went dead, Namjoon laid on the floor, enjoying the cool sensation it gives. The icy feeling went up to his bones as they soothe under the touch.

It was a hot summer day. Getting locked up in someone's basement wasn't exactly an ideal thought. But there he was, helplessly pondering in the small, cramped space. What a turn of events.

Remembering his notebook, Namjoon got up from the floor and went to the desk. He flipped through the pages, going through every word he has written over the past 3 days. Most of it were just sketches of poems, short notes of his wandering minds. Sometimes, he'd slip in a few drabbles regarding his situation, and of course, his kidnapper.

Dear diary,

He told me he gave this book for me to write my honest thoughts on everything. Supposedly, it'll make me feel better.

Here's my honest thoughts on him,

He is a demon. I fucking hate him. I wish he'd go to hell for what he's done to me. He says he loves me but

"Darling?"

In an instant, Namjoon slammed the notebook shut, flicking his head towards the source of voice.
He nervously gulped as he saw a small, but strong figure making his way to him. "Jimin," he greeted awkwardly, nodding a little.

"Have you been up long? I'm sorry. I was too caught up with work for a while." Jimin traced his fingers on Namjoon's cheek, eyes shone with a suffocating sense of domestic. Though Namjoon knew better than to fall for that look. Jimin is not who he seemed to be.

"I was just writing," the distance between them were painfully close. The air felt thicker, Namjoon had a hard time breathing.

Trying his best to look calm, Namjoon coughed out his most sarcastic tone, "I wasn't bored or anything, you know? You could've just stay up there and let me rot to death in here."

Even to himself, Namjoon finds it amusing how crude his words could be expressing his anger but somehow his body just stopped working. Not being able to shove off the younger while Namjoon splurred out his denials, he wondered if Jimin casted a spell that makes him shrink whenever they're in contact.

There was something about Jimin that gives off the overpowering vibe of dominance. He was small yet intimidating. He looked fragile but was able to rattle up any man's ego with his confidence. His build was no joke either. More than a few times Namjoon had seen the tight muscles on Jimin. And it had done nothing than made Namjoon quiver in fear.

The said man was slowly sliding his hands around Namjoon's hips, pulling their bodies closer. He hummed out a satisfied sigh when he felt Namjoon choke back a gasp as he run his ice cold hands under his shirt. Paralysis struck Namjoon again, he couldn't move when Jimin carefully placed his fingers on his skin, trailing down his torso. "Are you mad at me?"

"Did you hated being alone? I bet you missed me the whole time I was gone. Don't worry, love. I'm here now." Shivering from the touch, Namjoon glared at Jimin, trying his best to not look bothered. He mustered up enough courage before barking back at the shorter man.

"Go to hell, you little shit."

Jimin pursed his lips slightly, clearly annoyed at his 'lover's' attitude. His brows furrowed with irritation. "Now, now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here." Suddenly the grip around Namjoon's waist tightened and he winced.

"You know what happens when you cross the line, kitten." The warning followed with a low growl. Jimin's eyes soften, though the gaze behind it sends grew harder. He blew at Namjoon's ear, chuckling. Namjoon clicked his tongue and averted his eyes away indignantly.

"I don't take orders from a fucking psycho midget."

Under heavy breaths, Namjoon muttered his final sayings before he felt his body getting lifted from the ground. With a swift, Jimin grasped Namjoon by the waist, cradling the older over his shoulder. He didn't budge when Namjoon flailed around to escape his firm grip. Even as Namjoon kept hitting his back with balled fists, Jimin walked straight up the stairs, letting out a sigh.

"Now look what you've done. I'll just have to teach you a lesson, won't I?"

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