"I'm a fucking idiot." Namjoon muttered, as his eyes adjusted over the kitchen island. "I can't even do one thing right." 

It was early in the morning, none of the members were awake yet. It was a good thing he didn't want them to know he was awake again. They would worry and ask him if he was fine. Namjoon would nod and give a fatigue smile. 

His lower body sinks to the ground as he crosses is legs, sitting next to the broken glass. The coldness sent shivers through his body, as the fabric spread the water. He deserved this. You deserve everything bad in your life. Her words still haunted him, it's been two months, he shuddered. 

He recoils, everytime he thinks of her- her voice, her touch, her words, he wanted to tear off his skin. But he couldn't do anything other than sit on the cold, wet floor, remenising when he had started dating Chunja, but spring gives way to autumn. Her love dried with the leaves, and she crushed him- like a autumn leaf. 

His chest chelches and his heart tries to breath, but the sorrow in his lungs covered the expanse, as the air tried to find cracks in the solid rampart. His kness hug his chest and rests his forehead on the scabs, tightly shuting his eyes. Emotion clogged in his throat, as he desperately tried to swallow it. 

"Namjoon," A raspy voice broke his trance. He raised his head to see the mint-green haired man he has been living with for years. "What are you doing on the floor? The floor's wet Namjoon! Get up!"

"No, it's fine, Hyung. I'm okay." He snifled. He did deserve it. "The floor's not that cold." A shiver chilled his bones. 

"Get up, Namjoon!" Yoongi's voice was loud and clear. Namjoon fliched, but he rose. "Change your clothes, you are going to get a cold." 

Namjoon nodded. He got up, and went to his room, where Taehyung was still asleep. In the dim light- announcing the arrival of the sun, Namjoon waddled towards to his bed, not before hitting his pinky on a bookshelf.

The cold was seeping into his bones. Exhaling an unsteady breath, he sinks in the soft mattresses. He didn't have enough energy to change, his shirt. Rest...

His body yearned. The last time he had properly rested was three months ago. Even if his war-torn body, wanted to feel bliss in the waves of solitude as his eyes rested and his body floated in the steady waves of unconsiousness. He wouldn't drown, unless a nightmare greeted him, but they were a stranger those days, instead of a next door neighbour. 

His mind wouldn't rest; it didn't know what to do. It couldn't just shut down, but it also couldn't forget bad memories. So it did the only thing it could, enshire it within his memories. Namjoon couldn't think of anything else. 

In these times, he couldn't concentrate on anything, not even his music, as these memories tried to feed off his soul. It would have been in their possession, if not for his members- his pillars whom he would lean on without the fear of cumbling to dust. 

His upper body slowly turned and he rested is head in the soft pillow. He was aware he was sleeping on top of his blanket, but he didn't want to ruin the heat under the sheets with his cold, wet shirt. 

He closed his eyes, there were still a few hours before he had work. He could picture himself in bed, dragging his empty body to the shower. Then he would sit on his bed for a long time, trying to unfaze himself and dress for work. He didn't know how to drive, so he'll go with some member and spend the journey gazing out of the window or reading a book. Usually, the members gave him space, but at times, they would talk to him, about the most random things- trying to pry his mind away from it's slump. Namjoon wouldn't talk much, but he would reply and listen to what they had to say, greatful he had something else to concentrate on. 

『•••』

They say pain is the greatest motivator to create a masterpiece, but it was for the pain he couldn't write anything. 

Namjoon sat in his studio -nearly ripping apart his hair, staring at the paper in front of him. He always found it easier to write on paper. But for a while, he couldn't write anything.  His heart felt heavy as he pursed his lips together.His lids dropped. Despite all his efforts, a single tear rolled out- he wasn't fast enough.

His hand loosed their grip on his hair, and wiped the tear away before it could race down his chin. 

I hope everything bad in your life multiplies! You don't deserve to be happy!

Her parting words to him. He stood there watching her drive away. 

I will not cry!

He pressed his palms over his eyes, until he could see white spots on his lids. His lip trembled, he pressed a hand over it to stop the strangled cry from escaping. No one needed to know he was crying in his studio. 

It was a weight crushing on him, hollowing him out. He didn't have much left, he had already traded his peace. He should have stopped it before, but he didn't- he didn't want to. The sparkle in Chunja's when she talked about her favourite games- he still remembered the butterfiles he had got; but she had forgot to mention manipulation. 

Crying whie trying to be quiet was the hardest. The heartbreak of trying to supress your emotions, welled more tears. Namjoon didn't attempt to push away his notebook and his broken emotions wet the page. He had the notebook for a long time, this was the first time he was sharing his greif with it.  

『•••』

Namjoon pulled his mask higher on his nose, it was late, but he didn't want people to recognise him. The trees near the Han River had turned brown, a painful reminder for him. 

He wandered on the brigde. He didn't know why he was here, but he wanted a break from his life- a chance to think. He had suffered enough, things had to change. He couldn't keep going like this, he had to end the cycle before it curved to the end. He knew the end. 

Chunja was a part of life- a toxic one sure, but she was in the past. Then why does the greif follow? The girl he had once loved with all his heart, had make him incapable of loving- even himself. 

So he wandered, a lost empty soul, with no direction.He didn't have a destination, just a escape. 

Namjoon stopped. He stopped walking, he stopped thinking, he just stopped. 

He was trying to pull himself out of his depressed grave, not digging deeper. If he didn't divert himself from Chunja, he might as well bury himself alive. But determination is as good as a unbroken glow stick without motivation.

As determined Namjoon was to spin his life towards a more healthier path, he didn't know how to do that.

He first wanted to ask Hoseok, but it wasn't his battle- it was Namjoon's. And he left like he was already worrying the elder enough.

"... don't live for others, live for yourself!" A girl in a school uniform told her friend. While the leaned on the brigde, Namjoon wasn't standing far from them.

"How? I can't do the things Iike because of Suneng! If u did, then it would distract me from studies and my parents would be disappointed when I score less! How can I live for myself when these material things can change my life?"

Namjoon stop again- this time because of the girls words. He wouldn't deny the truth unlying behind her frustrated speech.

"You don't understand what I'm saying. Love yourself enough to prioritize yourself and take care of yourself before reaching the society's expectations. If you aren't well, the society will break you until the pieces mix with the dust, and are lost forever."

The other girl takes a deep breath. "You are right, but how am I supposed to live myself? No body teaches that."

You are right, but how am I supposed to live myself? No body teaches that.

Self-love, a important yet ignored concept. How can you love someone when you can't love yourself.

You can't- that's why you run behind someone who doesn't love you.

As Namjoon stood there, the school girls had given him the motivation to pull himself out of his grave. But he wasn't the only one in the dark room, there were millions of people who hadn't realised this- just like him.

No one teaches that.

No one teaches us, how to live ourselves. In the impious world, the expectation didn't match the donations. There were more finds on the hand which expected than on the one which donated.

And it was the teenagers who were the most vulnerable to this. Navigating the whole world with the guidance of a dying candle. What did they know? The demons will always go for the young flesh- they are easier to fool. They didn't know anything, so they traded their soul- as they didn't love it.

Namjoon moved from his stop long after the girls will gone. He had to talk to Yoongi hyung and Hoseok. Because he didn't only want to take something in this world, but also give, and learn- how to love himself.

Maybe pain isn't the greatest motivator to create a masterpiece, but the fight to leave it in the past is.

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Dragon_Kitara How is this? You said surprise me, hope this reaches your expectations!

Also Indigos, in a process of figuring out my writing style, please tell me how the portrayal in this chapter?

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