In the middle of the night, most people are sound asleep. But not you. No, you're sitting there, in a random park, consoling a 27-year-old man who's crying his heart out with his head on your lap. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist in a koala-like grip, refusing to let go.

"Y/N, baby, I'm really sorry," he mumbled for what felt like the hundredth time in the past 15 minutes.

"Namjoon—" you started, trying to calm him down, but he cut you off with a soft plea.

"Call me Nami... you used to call me that, remember?" His voice cracked as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with both nostalgia and regret.

"Nami..."
The nickname that once filled you with butterflies, now felt like a distant memory you wanted to forget.

"Y/N, I'm sorry," he mumbled, burying his face in your lap.

You sighed, placing your hands on his arms in an attempt to loosen his tight grip around your waist. This had gone on long enough.

"Namjoon..."

He held on tighter. "Please, not yet," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"Namjoon, get up! That's enough!" you yelled, your patience wearing thin.

But the moment you saw his red, tear-streaked face, your anger melted away.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered again.

"For heaven's sake, Namjoon, stop apologizing!" You grabbed his hands gently, your frustration turning into concern. "Why are you saying sorry so many times?"

He looked down, wiping his tears with the back of his hands, almost childlike. "I said bad words to you..." he mumbled, his voice soft and remorseful.

"Bad words?" you asked, your confusion growing.

You knew Namjoon could be a jerk sometimes, but when had he ever said anything particularly hurtful? Could he be talking about the past...?

You shook your head, pushing the thoughts away. "Stop assuming, Y/N," you whispered to yourself, refocusing on the situation at hand.

Here he was, Kim Namjoon, the most powerful lawyer in Seoul, sitting in front of you, crying like a child. You sighed inwardly. God, why are you doing this to me?

"Namjoon, enough with the 'sorry' and stand up'" you said, frustrated but trying to keep calm. You hooked your arm around his waist, attempting to lift him up. But his 6-foot frame wasn't cooperating, making your efforts feel like trying to move a mountain.

"Namjoon, it's midnight, we need to go," you said firmly, your patience wearing thin.

He looked at you with those watery eyes again. "I really messed up, didn't I?"

you sighed but kept your silence, tugging at him to stand

You stared at Yoongi's message on your phone, feeling a pang of guilt. You had already planned to head home early, but now you were stuck babysitting a drunk Namjoon in the middle of the night.

"Oppa, if only you knew," you muttered to yourself before sliding your phone back into your bag.

Namjoon shifted in the passenger seat, still groggy and mumbling incoherently. You sighed, started the car, and glanced at him once more. "Let's get you home before my night gets any worse," you whispered, driving off into the quiet streets.

You gritted your teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Namjoon, still in his dazed state, kept mumbling apologies like a broken record.

"Namjoon, I swear if you say sorry one more time—"

He blinked at you, wide-eyed like a child caught in trouble, and whispered, "I'm really, really—"

"Don't. You. Dare," you cut him off, shooting him a death glare. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he put his finger on them obediently, finally understanding the seriousness in your voice.

You sighed, feeling your patience wear thin, but continued driving. It was going to be a long night

Mr. Kim descended the grand staircase, the house eerily quiet except for the persistent ringing of the doorbell. He tightened his robe around him, still groggy and confused by the late-night disturbance. As he reached the door, he peeked through the peephole, seeing a familiar figure swaying slightly on the front porch.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of Namjoon leaning heavily against the frame, barely able to stand, with you standing beside him, an exasperated look on your face.

"Y/N?!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. His gaze flickered between you and his son, who was now slumped against you with his head hanging down.

You managed a sheepish smile. "I know, sir... It's not exactly how I planned my night either."

Mr. Kim let out a deep sigh, rubbing his face as he processed the situation. "What happened this time?"

"Long story," you replied with a tired chuckle, struggling to keep Namjoon from collapsing entirely. "Let's just say he's in no condition to explain himself right now."

 Mr. Kim's voice was still filled with shock. "What on earth...?"

"This brat..." Mr. Kim muttered under his breath, clearly frustrated, as he tried to pry Namjoon off of you. But Namjoon was glued to you like a stubborn child, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist.

"No...!" Namjoon whined, gripping you tighter. "Nami won't let go of Babygirl."

"Namjoon, come here!" Mr. Kim tried again, tugging at his son's arm, but Namjoon only buried his face deeper against your shoulder.

"No!" Namjoon groaned defiantly, clinging harder.

Mr. Kim sighed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. "I'm so, so sorry, Y/N. Can you—" He hesitated, clearly embarrassed. "—can you just take him upstairs to his room? He won't let go otherwise."

You stared at Mr. Kim, mouth slightly open in disbelief. Take Namjoon upstairs? This 6-foot-tall drunk tower who won't let go of me?

Your eyes met Mr. Kim's apologetic ones. "To his room?" you repeated, half-questioning, half-dreading the request. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the situation, but seeing no other way, you relented with a heavy sigh.

You shot Namjoon a look. His face was buried against your shoulder, and he was clinging onto you like a koala, muttering, "Babygirl... don't go."

Seriously?

"Alright..." you muttered under your breath. "But you owe me, Mr. Kim. Big time."

With a resigned sigh, you began dragging Namjoon towards the staircase, feeling his weight pressing down on you. Mr. Kim led the way, looking embarrassed but helpless.

"Babygirl... you're the best," Namjoon mumbled again, half-asleep.

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep moving, Nami," you grumbled, trying not to lose your balance on the stairs.

With the help of Mr. Kim, you finally managed to drop Namjoon onto his bed. Just as you were about to turn to leave, you felt a gentle grip on your wrist. You turned to see Namjoon looking up at you with sleepy, pleading eyes.

"Y/N, baby—" he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't you dare say sorry again, Namjoon," you replied, your tone a mix of frustration and tenderness. You were done with his apologies for the night.

He frowned, a hint of seriousness cutting through his drunken haze. "I'm sorry... please be mine again..." His words hung in the air, laced with a vulnerability that made your heart skip.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Namjoon" you said softly, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. You didn't want to encourage him when he was in this state.

Mr. Kim rummaged through Namjoon's closet, finally pulling out a pair of pajamas. "I'll take care of him from here," he said, sensing the tension in the room. "You should head home, Y/N. You've done more than enough tonight."

You nodded, grateful for Mr. Kim's intervention. "Yeah, I should go" you hesitated and turned to see him again

He blinked slowly, his expression softening. "Promise you'll come back?"

You bit your lip, caught between wanting to reassure him and knowing you needed to establish some boundaries. "We'll see," you replied, then stepped back, pulling your wrist free from his grasp.

As you turned to leave, you felt a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you—frustration 

You stepped into your house, the door clicking shut behind you as a wave of exhaustion washed over you. The familiar surroundings felt oddly distant as you replayed Namjoon's words in your mind: "Please be mine again..." Each repetition echoed through your thoughts, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions.

You sank into the nearest chair, the weight of the evening settling heavily on your shoulders. Namjoon's vulnerability had touched you, but the memories of your past haunted you like shadows.

You changed your clothes, the fabric a welcome distraction from the turmoil in your heart. Yet, no matter how much you tried to push it aside, the painful words echoed in your mind like a relentless mantra.

"You'll always be a second choice to me."

"You're not even in the list of my standards."

"Pathetic nerd."

"You're nothing compared to me."

Each phrase felt like a dagger, sharp and unforgiving. The taunts had come from a time when you had been so desperate to fit in, to be liked, and those memories weighed heavily on your heart. You had endured so much ridicule, and now those old wounds were reopened by the very person who once held your heart in his hands.

But in the midst of those painful recollections, Namjoon's plea rang out like a siren call: "Please be mine again."

You clenched your fists, battling the conflicting emotions. Could you really reconcile the past hurt with the hope of a future? Namjoon had changed—he wasn't that boy anymore. But could you trust that he meant what he said?

As tears threatened to spill, you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, determined not to let the past drown you. You needed to find your strength again, to stand up for what you deserved.

You rubbed your hands over your face, trying to wipe away the weariness that clung to you. After taking a deep breath, you opened your phone, desperate for a glimmer of emotional support from Jackson. But as you scrolled through your contacts, your finger hovered over his name.

He hadn't responded to your earlier messages, and a wave of disappointment washed over you. Your heart sank at the thought of feeling so alone in this moment of vulnerability.

The tears you had been holding back finally broke free, streaming down your cheeks. Each drop felt like a release, a mixture of frustration, sorrow, and longing. You let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions.

In that quiet moment, you allowed yourself to feel everything—the hurt, the betrayal, the uncertainty of what the future held. It was all too much. You sank down onto your bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if trying to shield your heart from the storm raging inside.

You needed someone urgently, you stood up and went towards that somebody 

You entered Yoongi's room silently, the dim light casting a gentle glow around the space. There he was, sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A soft smile crept across your face as you took in his peaceful expression, the worries of the day seemingly washed away.

You approached his bed and sat down beside the nightstand, reaching out to hold his left hand gently. Yoongi was in a deep sleep, unaware of your presence, but you found solace in the familiar warmth of his hand.

As you kissed his knuckles softly, your tears began to flow, unbidden but necessary. Each drop felt like a release, a way to cleanse the hurt that had been building inside you. You placed your face on his hand, seeking comfort in the connection you shared. It felt safe, a reminder that you were not alone in this world.

"It's not that easy, Namjoon," you whispered softly to the stillness of the room, your heart heavy with the weight of your thoughts.

You didn't know when your exhaustion caught up to you, but soon, your eyes began to droop. The warmth radiating from Yoongi's hand and the peaceful atmosphere enveloped you like a soft blanket. You allowed yourself to surrender to the fatigue, drifting into a deep and peaceful sleep in the comfort of your brother's presence.

In that moment, surrounded by the love and safety of family, the chaos of your mind faded away, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you were at peace.

'Let me forget everything....' 

_______________________________

TBC

(An: Aww sibling fluff...)

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