" he's not dangerous "

SEOKDREAM 2019

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Namjoon struggled, breath ragged as his charcoal black hair covered his eyes, sweat dripping down from his body. He glances up, mouth dry, hands gripping the back of his head, shaking, and he flinches when a gun is thrusted onto his back. His eyes widen and people surround him, red and blue lights flashing, sirens blaring.

He's been caught.

"An Awakened kid," someone's voice bursts through the air and Namjoon glances up, still breathing heavily, looking at the destruction his own hands had caused. "Pretty strong... took down the entire building.
Four-hundred deaths, three-thousand casualties..."

Namjoon gulps and cold metal clicks around his wrists, and he's being yanked up roughly by the officers. His skin is colored with dust and debris, and red and blue washes over him, and for a moment, it's relieving.

"Wait," Namjoon chokes out and he scrambles back, while the hands hooked into his are shoving him forward, "wait—I'm, I'm innocent."

The officers holding him scoff.

"Yeah, right, kid. Just shut up and keep walking."

Namjoon shakes his head and clenches his fists. "Please, just—yo-you don't know what you're doing." He says loudly, and heads begin turning to him. "You don't understand—!"

Someone slaps him. Namjoon yells, thrashing with all his strength at this point, screaming, the sound shrill. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me—I swear!" He rips his hands from the officer's grip, eyes blazing a dark, smoldering lavender. Black, shadowy-looking appendages rise up from the ground and wrap around Namjoon, slithering up his skin and tightening around the cuffs and snapping the metal in half. Namjoon chokes, falling to his knees, eyes big, unable to stop as the shadowy things morph into hands to comfort him, petting him and caressing his body. His own human hands thread roughly through his hair and the shadowy ones thrust forward as the sound of a gun pierces cleanly through the air.

Pain shoots through Namjoon's abdomen and he screams, and the hands react to his cry. A deafening roar echoes from the shadows, and the hands morph into what look like knives. They shoot forward, and Namjoon doesn't dare to look up as he hears the screams and groans of the citizens and officers.

It goes silent soon. The only sound is of the collapsed building crumbling, the fire crackling, police sirens, and the heavy breathing coming from his own lungs. The shadowy limbs stretch back to him, wrap around him tightly, holding his wound, and Namjoon sobs brokenly.

He's such a monster.

Namjoon wakes up at someone's doorstep.

He sits up with a wince, and he looks behind him, where the shadows are still wrapped around his bullet wound. As they pull away gently, he gags when he sees that the shadow is digging into the wound to pull out the bullet. There's no pain: of course there isn't. His shadows will never hurt him: they do everything they can to protect him.

He turns pale when the shadow wriggles around and pulls out a silver bullet, dropping it to the ground, and wrapping again around the wound. Namjoon sniffles, still covered in debris and blood, and he sits up straight with a wince. He jolts when his shadows suddenly sink abruptly back into the ground and he yelps, surprised. Then, he jumps when the door in front of him opens and he hides his face when he hears a shriek.

"W-who are you?!"

The voice is light. But most likely a male. Namjoon doesn't dare to show his face, breathing heavily again. His eyes darken and glow a soft purple, and he can feel his shadows underneath him crawling up his back, ready to defend him. He's on the verge: on the verge of allowing his shadows to surge forward and kill—kill kill kill kill—

"Y-you're hu—hurt." The male sets down whatever is in his hands and he pulls his hands away from his face. Namjoon glances up nervously and blinks, met with a clean and handsome face of a very pretty boy. He studies Namjoon's state closely and gently tugs up his shirt, covering his mouth when he sees the gross, messy bullet wound in his abdomen. "Oh my God," The male blinks and looks at Namjoon worriedly, "are you okay? Doesn't it.... doesn't it hurt?"

He's speechless. His shadows have stopped moving, resting quietly, obediently on his back, equally shocked. Namjoon's mouth goes dry and he can't find words to respond, nothing but tears well up in his eyes and the male stutters.

The male blinks. "Oh—um, here! Come inside for now, and I'll take you to a hospital—"

"No—no!" Namjoon growls out, scrambling away. "No hospitals."

He flinches and nods, gently taking Namjoon's hand and helping him up. He guides Namjoon into the house and sits him down once he's in the nearest restroom. It's clean, and smells like fruity shampoo, the same smell that wafts off the male that's helping him. His shadows wriggle against his back impatiently and Namjoon hushes them, making them go limp again against his skin.

"I-I don't know what you could've been through that caused such a—a wound." The male says quietly, entering the bathroom with a fresh change of clothes, a first aid kit and two towels. "I suggest you wash off, first... when you're done, I'll help you dress the wound but I think it'll need stitches—"

"I can do it." Namjoon says softly and the male nods, a bit surprised.

"Al-alright." The boy sets down the stuff and stands there for a moment, awkward. "I'm Seokjin, by the way. Kim. Kim Seokjin—I mean—uh, yeah." Seokjin turns a little pink and shuffles out the door, closing it respectively, and Namjoon slumps back the instant Seokjin's out of sight.

His shadows pool out besides him like tentacles, catching him and lifting him up into the bath. The shadows get the bath going, rinsing him, stripping his clothes off and washing him gently, softly, like a mother to her newborn child. The fruity shampoo surrounds him like a gentle, warm cloud, and Namjoon sinks back into the warm water gratefully, wincing when his wound stings and he looks down to see the shadows getting ready to stitch the wound closed.

"Do you," Namjoon whispers, and the shadows halt, as if listening, "do you like Kim Seokjin?"

The shadows hover for a long, long time before nodding. Namjoon is shaken, eyes wide as if he's been whiplashed. His shadows—his shadows like Kim Seokjin? Meaning he's good. Kim Seokjin is good. To him. For him. Kim Seokjin is good, and Namjoon hasn't heard that in a long time.

The only other person his shadows liked was his mother and father. But they died when he was very young, leaving his shadows, his powers, to care and defend for him.

Namjoon only ever followed and trusted his shadows. That's why having them like Kim Seokjin is so surprising.

"You like Kim Seokjin." Namjoon echoes and the shadows begin threading the needle and string into his wound. "That's good."

Very, very good.

-

okie so heres the namjin superpower fic !! to those of you who are confused: namjoon's shadows have a personality of their own. they follow namjoon and obey his orders, they do everything namjoon wants them to do, and they also care and defend namjoon like a child.

they can't hurt namjoon because they're a part of him: if the shadows get hurt, so does namjoon, etc. they're not connected to his body, btw, they're just kinda floating around him like a little safety bubble. they also recognize humans very well and their intentions, so sometimes they'll get overprotective and kill whoever harms or hurts namjoon without him asking.

anyways here's the first chap!! hope yall enjoyed it because im excited to write it!!