I Need Your Euphoria⇿ NamBTS

- Mad Love -

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Genre : ??

Pairing : NamJin

Seokjin lives in a literal madhouse and he writes to survive his wild fantasies. Namjoon is just a very lucky/unlucky(?) nurse who gets the privilage to sneak a peek at his works.

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By the time his calendar checks another new week, Seokjin would mark up the space of his dusty old diary with yet some more scribbles and whatnots to cleanse his jumbled up mind - till there was none left for him to place the tip of his pen on. It was like painting; except not on large canvases but on miniature notepads - not with expensive tubes of oil posters but with mere black ink. Although he was still very much grateful with what he was given, Seokjin learned to abide with simplicity and content as the days he stood by this asylum grew wider and longer each time.

Like his hands were glossed with a fair share of grease, his fingers ran through the ivory sheet ever so smoothly - tracing lines and shapes across its sheen surface, carving out words per words that would soon birthed an array of beautiful sentences. Seokjin was deeply immersed in his own world. Threading a dangerous line of tempestruous daze that he knew, all too well could succumb himself into an abyss of sleep - the voices in his head appear then gone again, always telling him what to do - what he should do.

'Get out.' One of them would shout.

'Escape.' Then another would whisper.

'Let's run away from here.' The soft ones would coax.

But they were not much of a bother to him. What could small words of persuasion ever have any effect on his metal-sort of a will - Seokjin had long understood that there are others to worry about;

Like the demons.

'Slice her throat. Do it!'

'His eyes are staring at you, you should scoop them out the bastard.'

'You are worth nothing till you make sure that man knows who you are - kill him, fool!'

'Kill him. Kill her. Kill them all.'

Seokjin could hear them; taunting and toying with him - enticing enough to pull him in yet still such a menace to keep him away. An act of neverending tug-of-war between him and them, deep down the man knew so much of him has the strength to stand his ground before long. Seokjin was fatigued. And reaching the breaking point deemed all but too possible.

So, he wrote. Lines and lines of it; purely bringing out his thoughts into life by jotting them down on the stacks of parchment he'd scrounge up somewhere inside the wards - compiling those voices that merely spoke bits of words that would eventually create masses of stories to share and ideas to tell - Seokjin was ecstatic to have them out of his head and chalked in another blank space rather than his brain - it helped him cope with living in a literal mad house, and plus, he was practically on the verge of publishing a legitimate book after having to blanch out his deepest fantasies - Seokjin admitted he might have a knack for literature if polished and primmed properly.

Maybe he could become another aspiring author who had recently dispatched off a hospital for the crazies if he ever does leave this hellhole?

Ah, but before that he needs validation. An authorization. Someone to agree with and preferably contribute a generous amount of share in it as well - that being said, Seokjin had already pinpointed that someone in mind.

"Namjoon-ssi," Seokjin had called out exuberantly today, during rollcall. He was one of the few civilized patients there to use proper honorifics and formal speech (it has been really common for the inmates to slurr and be outwardly rude), thus it had only took Namjoon a moment's notice to know it was the dashing craze that had beckoned him.