jangmi (장미) ● taejoon

t w e n t y f o u r .

The day turned into night before Namjoon could come home. It was usual for teachers to stay a little later to help clean up, grade papers, and simply just lounge around their classroom before another morning.

He packed up his bag, and locked the classroom door. The keys jingling in his hands as he walks through the empty, dim halls. Pushing up the bridge of his glasses tiredly, he walks to his car out in the front parking lot.

A call echoes through the silence and from his phone, it was Seokjin as Namjoon glanced at his phone screen. He answers it, holding it up to his ear. "Hm?"

"Are you coming home soon?" Seokjin asks, "Tell me you have a gun in the car. Are you alone? You should leave earlier now just in case."

Namjoon sighs softly. "... You know I have a house too," he says, "Do you mind if I just get some stuff from my place? I might as well just move into your house if you won't even let me go to my own home anymore."

"I'm worried for your safety, Namjoon," Seokjin huffs, "We're getting too many close calls."

Namjoon unlocks his car. "Seokjin, listen I'm fine," he throws his bag onto the front passenger seat before sitting in the driver seat. Closing the door and locking it. "I'm gonna drive to my house, I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Wait," Seokjin says, "I'll meet you there-"

"Stay home," Namjoon frowns frustratingly, "I'm a grown man, I don't need you babysitting me. I appreciate that you care for me, but soon you won't even let me go to the bathroom by myself."

There was silence over the phone before he heard his voice again. "... Okay, okay. Just- Just came back as soon as you can."

"... I will," Namjoon ended the call. He took a deep breath, resting his head against the seat. Gulping. He throws his phone onto his bag.

"Don't fucking move."

Cold metal brushed up against his adam's apple, and through he mirror he saw a leather glove grip the handle of a knife. He doesn't bother to move. Narrowing his eyes.

"... Get out of the car."

Namjoon does so, putting his hands up to reassure he hand nothing in his hands. He stays quiet, waiting till the figure gets out from the backseat.

It was a woman, fairly shorter than him, pale and had black hair cascading down her back. A mask covered her nose and lips, but her eyes showed as much intimidation as Namjoon's height was.

"... It's rude to trespass, you know?" Namjoon says, his hands still up.

"Shut up!" She hissed through the muffling mask. "Get into the va-"

Namjoon grabbed the knife from her hands, holding it tightly by the blade and slamming her against the trunk of his car by his elbow. Flipping the knife around by tossing it lightly in the air to grab the handle. He was sure there was no security cameras monitoring the lot since Minnie said the cameras could only record the sidewalk.

It was his turn to interrogate. "It isn't acceptable for men to hurt women yes, I'm a believer to that," he says, "But when the women attack first when we're defenseless or minding our own goddamn business, that's always the exception."

She glared, slithering a hand between her legs and his. Being too close for comfort, he suddenly fell back. The sound of a bullet making his ears ache.

Namjoon falls to the floor. Dropping the knife and hitting his head against the concrete. Pain ignites his thigh, and she slams a foot against it. He screams as blood gushes out from his skin. His pants soaking in red. The amount of fatigue he's experienced over the past days has gotten to his body. He was weak.

She shot him with his gun from the dashboard.

The woman presses her knees against his chest, tilting his head up by his hair. Fabric covers his lips and nose, a stinging smell made him hold his breath. Panic paralyses his lungs, and his hands frantically gripped the women's wrists. Nails digging into her skin, eyes widening.

She shoves the fabric till Namjoon pushes her to the side, coughing violently. Using his hands to prop himself up, he rushes to stand up. Using the car as support, he limps towards the gun.

"Quit fighting it," she growls.

As he picks it up and holds it with his finger on the trigger, his sight slowly turns hazy. He blinks furiously, trying to aim at the figure in front of him. His hand sways as he stands, his eyes getting heavy.

He stands sluggishly, blinking rapidly before collapsing. The gun is tossed under his car.

Namjoon goes unconscious.

[unedited]