Lord Of The Wolves

Lean On The Shoulders Of Our Youth

Namjoon is old enough to comprehend the heavy responsibility that weighs upon his shoulders. He knows his 11 years of existence is not necessarily a suitable requirement for figuring out their pack's health-emergency passageway, the preferred tactic to removing foreign residue from a battered blade, or even the riddled venture that lead rescuers onto a covered hideaway in cases of wars waged against their pack. 

Namjoon is knowledgeable about these information because he's obliged to, but he's also partly curious over the issues presented. Regardless of the infinitely small bit of joy he gets, and whatever historical event he has to mumble and carve in his memory.

It's not as if he's being forced to do it - he's fully aware complaints are more than welcomed if voiced out loud. And yet the gnawing pressure prowls at him, the whispers of expectations much too loud to be shushed. He wishes to pace himself in a better manner, to giggle just as freely as Hoseok or to cackle unattractively like Seokjin. The days he's spent stuck between worn out pages and dusty shelves -those were the moments he'd missed out on one of Taehyung and Jimin's midnight brawls, knocking over Yoongi's sleeping body to the ground and alerting adults of the aftermath. 

Namjoon forces a couple of chuckles when he hears about another of his brothers' misbehavior. But the growing envy still continues to prey on his heart even as the laughter continues.

-

"Are you okay?"

The question has put its mark on every face he's familiar with - Seokjin, Master Sejin, Yoongi, Hoseok (and even the always oblivious Taehyung and Jimin). But he never expected them from Jungkook. Shy, little Jungkook.

"I'm sorry?" 

"Are you okay?" Jungkook repeats again.

Namjoon blinks, mouth agape. Jungkook shies away from his daunted gaze, instinctively raising the silver tray nearer to his view. He yelps faintly, eyes shut and shoulders pulled upwards.

"I-I thought you'd need a midnight snack s-so I brought you this drink-"

The tray's clamor jostles Namjoon back into awareness. He casts a look at the steaming cup, instantly drooling at the mingling scent of chocolate and milk. Jungkook shifts his position and fiddles with the tray's holders. It shakes when rocks on his heels, wobbles when his breath falters with a broken sigh.

"For me?" Namjoon looks skeptical.

Jungkook nods with a pensive stare, "You look sad. I thought a cup of milk might cheer you up."

"Sad?" Namjoon thinks out loud. He's gone to resent the word 'worry' so much a different vocabulary such as 'sad' made for an unusual description. When Jungkook acknowledges the question with an unreadable expression, Namjoon represses the urge to question the term. He believes depriving the boy of such remarks would save them the trouble of any embarrassment, so he smiles instead, albeit forcibly (just as awkward and scripted as the others).

"Thank you," he says as he takes the tray from fumbling fingers. 

"You're welcome," Jungkook beams. He tips his toes and clasps his hands together, unaware of the older's hesitation.

Namjoon wishes to fend off the awkwardness he feels. The discomfort grows briskly, plaguing his mind with insecurities. He stands there feeling limbless, hoping to break the silence even just a little.

"Do you..." he trails off, grip tightening around the tray's handle, "Do you want to come with me to the library?"

Jungkook's eyes twinkle. But he stays silent, as if contemplating.

"O-only if you want to," Namjoon stammers. "I mean it's probably late and the pack master might not allow you to wander off on your own -"

"Okay," the boy interrupts.