Chapter 17

Namjoon had been hunched over Jin's desk for the past three hours, eyes sharp and unwavering as he flipped through his notes. The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the scratch of his pen and the occasional sound of pages turning. Jin sat across from him with his own script, reading aloud softly at times, but his eyes kept betraying him—slipping toward Namjoon's focused profile without permission.

Annoyed at himself, Jin stood up abruptly. *A break. Coffee. Something to stop me from looking at him like that.*

He returned a few minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs. Setting one down beside Namjoon, he said lightly, "Have some break."

Namjoon looked up and smiled, taking the cup into his hands. He sipped once, then—almost absentmindedly—he started reading again.

"Didn't you hear me? I said take a break," Jin insisted, frowning.

Namjoon's smile softened at the trace of worry in his tone. "Hyung, it's just one topic left. Once I finish that, I'll stop for today."

Jin didn't answer. Instead, he reached across, plucked the open book from Namjoon's lap, and set it firmly on the table. "After coffee. Then you can finish."

Namjoon's lips curved into a mischievous smile. The next moment, he tugged Jin's wrist and pulled him onto his lap in one smooth motion. Leaning close, his breath brushed against Jin's ear, hot and teasing. "Then... how about you give me company instead?"

Jin's heart gave a startled thud, his pulse hammering too fast, too loud. He jerked away almost instantly, moving to the far side of the bed to put space between them. His silence spoke volumes.

Namjoon chuckled, voice low and amused. "Relax, hyung. I won't do anything." He moved closer anyway, slipping beside him, pressing too much warmth into the little gap between them. His head dropped onto Jin's shoulder, an arm sliding around his waist. Namjoon sighed, heavy with exhaustion.

Jin froze... then, to his own surprise, didn't push him away. A quiet part of him whispered *don't move.*

"Hyung," Namjoon's voice was muffled against his shoulder, "exams are next month. They've piled on extra subjects because next year's my final year. I'm so drained already..."

Jin's chest tightened. The thought of leaving Namjoon behind for two whole months—his own shooting schedule looming—suddenly felt unbearable. A quiet unease stirred inside him.

"You know you can't keep studying like this without breaks," Jin murmured, his tone soft but firm. "Your mind needs rest. Otherwise you'll just make it harder for yourself. I know you—if I'm not here, you'll forget meals, forget everything until you collapse."

Namjoon lifted his head, and Jin instinctively turned toward him. Their faces hovered dangerously close—close enough that Jin felt the brush of Namjoon's breath.

"Hyung," Namjoon whispered, eyes unwavering, "I don't care how hard it gets. As long as I make you proud."

Jin's heart stuttered. His breath caught, and he quickly turned his face away, hiding the heat creeping into his cheeks.

"I don't want, a soon to be a doctor who doesn't take care of his own body," he said firmly.

Namjoon leaned in further, lowering his voice. "Then how do you want me, hyung? Tell me."

"Just... take care of yourself when I'm not around," Jin muttered, irritation covering the tremor in his chest.

Namjoon chuckled, tightening his arm around Jin's waist and shaking him playfully. "Hyung is worrying about me, I know hyung loves me too"

Jin's lips twitched, betraying a smile before he masked it with mock annoyance. "Leave me. Our coffee's gone cold—I'll reheat it." He slipped away to the kitchen, grateful for the excuse, though his heartbeat refused to settle.

As the door closed, Namjoon leaned back against the bed, eyes lingering on the half-finished notes. With a quiet sigh, he picked them up again.

*One more topic,* he told himself, *and then the rest of the day belongs to him.*

---

Later, the house was filled with the sound of sizzling pans and Jin moving about the kitchen. Namjoon had offered to help, but Jin had shut him down with that sharp glare of his. So he sat sulking on the couch, pretending to watch TV, though his thoughts never strayed far from the kitchen.

Jin cooked quietly, his hands moving on instinct. The smell of Namjoon's favorite dish filled the air. And as he stirred the pot, his thoughts stirred with it.

It's been more than a year since he started being like this with Jin. Back then, Jin wanted nothing more than to escape his presence, to avoid his face, his touch. But now... things are changing. He miss him when he's not here. His touch doesn't scare him anymore that sometimes even makes his heart beat higher— definitely not the touch when Namjoon forces on him.

Jin's chest ached with the weight of his own confusion. But obsession isn't love. It can't last. If Namjoon doesn't let go of it, he'll destroy both of them. And yet... he's given Jin so much of himself. He loves him with everything he has, even if it's twisted. How can Jin ignore that? How can he pretend he doesn't feel anything when his heart skips at his words, when he find himself missing him too much?

Also Namjoon had only ever hurt him in moments when jealousy clouded his mind—blinded by obsession and possessiveness. Outside of those times, Namjoon had always been gentle, always treated him well.

He sighed, lowering the flame. Maybe the only way to untangle this is with love. If Jin show him love, real love, maybe he'll stop clinging to him with such obsession. Maybe he'll learn to hold him in a way that doesn't hurt him.

These thought frightened him, but it also warmed him. Because no matter how he denied it, his heart already knew the truth: he couldn't live without Namjoon.

The table was quiet except for the sound of chopsticks clinking softly against bowls. Namjoon was eating quickly, clearly savoring every bite, while Jin chewed slowly, his mind turning.

He watched Namjoon's face for a moment—too focused on him, too attached. That familiar knot of worry twisted in Jin's chest.

"Namjoon," Jin said carefully, setting his chopsticks down. "Don't you think... you should spend time with your friends too?"

Namjoon paused mid-bite, his chopsticks hovering in the air. His eyes flicked up to Jin's, questioning.

"You're always here, always following me around," Jin continued, his tone firm but not unkind. "It's not healthy to only be with me. You need your own circle. People to laugh with, lean on. Not just... me."

Namjoon set his bowl down, leaning back in his chair. His jaw tightened as he spoke, voice low. "Why would I need anyone else, hyung? You're enough for me. More than enough."

The certainty in his tone made Jin's chest ache. He wanted to roll his eyes, to dismiss it as stubbornness, but he couldn't ignore the sincerity there either.

"That's not the point," Jin said, a bit sharper. "Having friends and having me—it's different. What happens when I'm not here? When I'm gone for months? You'll be alone, Namjoon. And that worries me."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Namjoon's gaze dropped to his hands, then back to Jin. "But I don't want anyone else," he said softly, almost stubbornly childlike. "When you're not here, I will just wait for you. That's enough for me."

Jin sighed, frustration and tenderness tangling inside him. His heart fluttered painfully at those words, but his head resisted. "You can't keep living like that. I don't want you to become lonely because of me. Friends won't replace me, Namjoon. But they'll give you something when I can't. Don't shut the world out."

Namjoon looked at him long, as though the thought itself was foreign. His lips parted as if to argue again, but then he only murmured, "Hyung, you worry too much about me."

"And you worry too little about yourself," Jin countered, pushing another dish toward him. "Now eat. At least listen to me on this."

Namjoon gave a faint, defeated smile, picking his chopsticks up again. "Fine. But even if I make friends, you'll still be the one I come home to."

Jin's heart stumbled at that simple confession. He turned his face away quickly, focusing on his food, trying to hide the way his lips trembled at the corners.