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Namjoon shifted in the messy bed, his face shoved into the pillow. The faint light that cowardly penetrated the thick burgundy curtains told him it was daytime.
Days went by like paper in the wind. He was stuck in this ocean called depression, not knowing how to swim. He didn't want to eat, he didn't want to drink. He didn't want to get up or even move. He couldn't really be bothered to pick up the phone that kept ringing relentlessly next to his bed.
Melancholy crept up on him like a stealthy, silent killer. The tiredness had fallen like a veil over his skin, thick and heavy.
Namjoon had officially surrendered to apathy, wanting nothing to do with the reality that surrounded him. There might had been a time when he was strong, resilient. When he knew what to do. When people relied on him and he had their back.
But that time was long gone in a hazy fog, like it had been in another life. Now, he was just lost, but comfortably numb.
In a sense it was unfair, because it seemed to him that he was the only one in that low state. Perhaps it was his depression talking, detaching him from everyone else. But still, it was unfair. Jungkook and Meisa had each other to cope with the tragedy. Jin had his work keeping him safe from slipping. And Jimin, he had this burning hatred inside of him, but at least it kept him centered.
And Namjoon, he had nothing.
The doorbell rang again. Namjoon groaned. He had heard it the first time, but had no intention of answering. The shrill, annoying sound came a third time, ringing around the quiet apartment like a raid siren.
Sighing apathetically, he ignored it. Then came a violent knocking. It wasn't so much knocking as it was literal pounding as if there was some kind of riot happening outside his door.
As if his body moved on autopilot, Namjoon slithered from underneath the sheets. He fell forward, catching himself on the door frame, and shuffled slowly to the front door.
The light bursting through the open door blinded him. He hissed and narrowed his eyes so much they almost shut closed.
"Holy shit! That can't be Namjoon," someone said. "It must be his ghost. Jin, I told you he was dead!"
A sense of deja-vu swept over Namjoon as he instantly recognized that voice. His eyes adjusted to the brightness and he made out Jungkook and Jin's silhouettes standing outside his door.
"Leave." He grumbled darkly in a scratchy voice.
Just as he was about to slam the door in their faces, Jungkook swiftly put his foot between the door and the door frame and snuck half of his body inside.
"No." he refused firmly, pushing in.
Unexpectedly, Namjoon gave up resisting and let his arms fall limply to his sides. Without a word, he shuffled back inside his apartment, leaving the two men to do whatever the hell they wanted. Whether they come in or leave, he couldn't really care less. They could light his house on fire for all he cared, and he'd still watch it burn blankly.
