#infiction

Your eyes travel to the corner of the room, across from him, and you hold weekly on the wooden doorframe for support, eyes stinging with the tears that are now threatening to fall when you see the laptop and phone broken, the wall damaged; taking a deep breath, you lick your lips and look back at Jackson, seeing him move an arm from his knee and reaching for something you can’t see, but the glass sparkles in the faint sunlight when he leans his back against the wall behind him and downs the half-filled glass of whisky like it’s water, your heart sinks, biting your lips you take uncertain steps towards him, taking uneven turns biting your lips nervously. This is not him, this is not Jackson you love, this far from the man you’re married to, the man that one week ago would wake you by straddling your sides and kissing his way up your back or tickling you when you’re too stubborn and when you’d glare at him he’d simply give you the smile you prize so much and that you, with all your heart, you’d see him wearing now.

“why haven’t you left yet?” his words cuts through the emptiness, reaching you like a cold blade and you step back, stopping in your tracks, you can hear him filling the glass again, his tongue darts out to taste the alcohol on his lips, you gulp down and part your lips but you can’t say anything.

“Jackson.” the way you say his name with so much fondness, he wants to believe it’s pity or that you’re faking it, but he knows you, it’s neither of those just love and caring. If by any chance, it were any of those, he could send you away easily, at least he wants to believe that much.

He wants to say more and hurt you so you’d leave, but the words don’t come out, Jackson is incapable of hurting you deliberately, so he hears you walking closer to him, the sound of your heels piercing through his ears, sending waves of pain throughout his body and you watch him drink what he poured himself earlier at once, his nose scrunches and he sniffs, you wonder how much he drank already, the smell of alcohol lingers around him strong, stronger as you get close enough to see his face tainted with the blush denouncing he already had too much despite how clear he sounds.

The familiar warmth that spreads from you is familiar and inviting when you kneel next to him, this small part of him wants nothing more than drown himself in his tears instead of the whisky that burns his throat when he pours himself another glass and drinks in one go, being this close you can see where the tears stained his skin and his dress shirt, the ones in his eyes are being held back and that’s another foreign trait on Jackson, his stern expression would scare anyone but you. 

“it’s over.” he still sounds clean from the drunkness he’s probably chasing so desperately, looking away from you and pouring himself another drink, Jackson sounds dull and hushed but loud in the empty bedroom. Holding the glass filled by half, he places his arm on his knee again, holding loosely and watching as the golden liquid swirls awkwardly. You wish he’d look at you.

“I lost--” his throat is dry and he chokes, hitting his head against the wall, “the company, our money, our house...everything.”, Jackson stops talking when he feels like he’ll cry again, “I lost everything.”, Jackson has nothing else to pour in his voice for you to hear except for how sorry he is and he the sound of his tears would be too pathetic now no matter how much you heard it before, “you really should leave”, the sound of his casualty comes out with ease but he closes his eyes slowly, trying to cope with the thought and the anticipated pain of seeing you go.

The touch of your hand on his arm, even through the tailored suit and dress shirt underneath, set his skin on fire, giving him hope, something he doesn’t want to feel. Jackson licks his lips again, flashes of the forty-eight hours passing behind his eyelids so vivid he almost feels everything is happening all over again and makes his gut twist in an odd way, less painful because you’re there and he lets you take the glass out of his hand and pull away his arm blocking you from getting any closer, before sitting beside him and resting your head on his chest. 

It’s impossible not to cry again when your arms are around his middle and Jackson feels so at home, so protected and loved, when he opens his eyes his tears falls one after another, Jackson feels himself melting and you whisper to him a new breath of life.

“Let’s start again”, you speak louder than his fears, than his self-pity and the darkness, brighter than the stubborn light maneuvering its way through the smallest gaps between the curtains

His arms are tired and heavy from the weight on his shoulders, but Jackson wraps them around you, pulling you as close as you can and hiding his face on the crook of your neck, his breathing hitches and he greets his teeth to hide the sobs that threaten to escape past his lips while his tears stream down his face freely, staining the delicate and expensive material of your dress as much as you’re ruining his suit.

Shoulders quivering and chest sinking with each swallowed sob and hiccup, from all those numbers with the negative sign before them and red colored, past the threats from associates to the broken promise he made your parents, seeing everything built with hard work been taken away so ruthlessly by the greedy mouth of low-life kind of men edges him near desperation, but surrounded by your warmth and everything that is you Jackson remembers why you’re his safe harbor.

The back door's one of the many pathways used by the hospital’s staff during the busy hours. The bright red light reading ‘EXIT’ above the door and the lamps placed around doesn’t really light up the place at night as it should, but it’s not as scary one you’re used to it.

-   Sorry. – He says once he’s close enough, he pulls down the mask he’s wearing showing his smile and you smile back at him, just because. – Am I late?

- No, it’s alright. I still had a few things to take care of.

Namjoon nods and licks his lips, there’s a small silence that makes him nervous, he should know how to behave in such situations, he read about it, wrote about it, heard songs about, but yet… 

- It’s cold. We should get going. 

The two of you walk side by side, his hand tingle, loosely swaying by his sides as he walks, he’s too conscious of them now. It’s too early to hold your hand – he tells himself so. 

- I’m—I’m sorry I couldn’t take a car. – You shake your head, humming, understanding. 

- After being in there for so long, it’s good to take a walk and breathe fresh air— Specially when I leave unsolved cases behind.

- It just shows how much you love what you do– You look at him, his soft gaze caught you off guard, he smiles at you and your smile mirrors his. 

Both of you looks away, still wearing those smiles. 

- It shows, right? – He nods.

- Last time we talked, you said you’d be working non-stop because you took those days off, but when you talked about it— 

Namjoon trails off, thinking about the only conversation the two of you had, the day you met. 

- I—Said too much, right? – He chuckles, his shoulders shaking.

- That’s not it. 

You sense his eyes on you and you look at him as well. 

- You sounded passionate about it, even though you knew how tiring it’d be, you still wore a bright smile, your eyes-- - He clears his throat feeling shy, but wanting to be sincere. – They—sparkled when you talked about your job or your studies for a doctorate. 

You look down, feeling shy out of a sudden as well, a light blush tints your cheeks and you try to play it off. 

- I used to sound like that too. – He adds soon after, but his eyes are lost somewhere on the sidewalk ahead of him. – I miss feeling more like that.

- About music? 

You look at him and he nods, but his eyes are still somewhere unknown. 

- About myself too. 

Five minutes to three at the morning, the residential street is quite empty, you make sure to guide him through less crowded places and apart from scarce coffee shops and local stores there aren't many places aside from houses, little to no people around in certain spots. 

The deaf sound of the rain drops on your clothes goes by unnoticed for a while, until it hits both of your faces and you look up, Namjoon reaches out his hand with his palm turned up, feeling the raindrops on his skin, it quickly becomes more persistent, the rain becomes heavier and louder. Namjoon holds your wrist and the two to you run to the nearest coffee shop, as soon as you enter after him, he lets go of the door, letting swing open and through the glass the both of you see the falls heavier like it was waiting, until you and Namjoon got into somewhere safe. 

The both of you stare at the think curtain formed by the rain outside, before looking at each other, breaking into laughter. 

- Our luck isn’t so bad?! – You grimace jokingly.

- You think so? – Namjoon raises an eyebrow and you smile.

- Not really. – He chuckles and nods.

- I thought so.

- I’m sorry. 

You turn around to look at an employee approaching the two of you, Namjoon makes sure to pull his mask up again before turning to look at the employee again. 

- Welcome! – He bows politely, his voice only loud enough to be heard between the three of you. – Would you like a table? – He seemed uncertain. 

You hesitate, looking around, seeing only a few people inside, two of them seemed to be too focused on their own doing, using their tables as workspace to even notice someone else has come in, there was a couple hidden on a both in a corner, a few more clients scattered around despite the late early hour. 

- Sure. – Namjoon replied for you instead. 

The waiter smiled and guided the both you to a booth at the far end of the shop. 

- I’d like… a double Americano and lemon pie, please. – The waiter takes note and nods before looking at Namjoon.

- Same for me.

- Yes, it’ll be right out. 

The both of you watch the young man walk away before looking at each other again. 

With a sigh, you support both of your elbows on the table and look at the rain through the glass not too far from where you’re sitting. Your thoughts roam that is partially clouded from the lack of sleep you been having and you don’t notice how Namjoon can’t really look away from your side profile, but tries to play it off when the waiter comes back with your orders and you look away from the rain, to the piece of pie in front of you with a smile, he glances at you before looking at his own order just to look somewhere else. 

The waiter walks away and it’s just the two of you again. 

- The pie smells really good— 

You’re cut by the sound of your stomach mocking the storm outside and, much like the weather outside as well, you freeze, but in embarrassment instead of feeling cold, your face is tinted red in an instant, Namjoon presses the back of his fingers over his mask where his lips are to avoid laughing without much success and you cover your face with both hands. 

- Oh my God! I’m so sorry! 

You manage to choke out in your mortified state, your voice muffled by your hands, you knew you were hungry, but you had no idea it was this bad. 

- It’s okay! 

Not ready to face Namjoon just yet, you maintain your hand covering your face, questioning your life choices, that is until he reaches out to gently pull on one of his hands, you let him, lowering your other hand as well. 

- I forgot I haven’t had the time to eat yesterday. 

You support your arm with your elbow on the table and leans your face on your palm. Namjoon has a dazzled smile directed at you behind his mask, you can tell by how his voice sounds when he speaks again. 

- C’mon, don’t think about it and eat, you should take care of yourself too. 

Muttering an “I know”, you look down to your hand that Namjoon is still holding. 

- I’m—I’m sorry. 

The hands are pulled away and you nod, eyes wandering elsewhere before you busy yourself with the piece of pie in front of you, when he pulls his mask down to eat you can’t help but trying to discreetly look around in worry, knowing that, for him, being caught would cause serious issues. 

- It’s okay, they don’t seem to be minding anything around them.

- You’re right. 

You focus on your lemon pie instead before your stomach could complain again. 

- I never really apologized for running off that day. 

You recall with a slight frown when you met him and after less than a five minutes conversation your phone rang and you were called in the hospital. 

- You don’t need to. – He says sincerely. – And you really didn’t run off, you had work to do, I understand.

- What? – You ask seeing how Namjoon still carries the frown from the accentuated sentence.

- That way sounds like you’re running away. – He adds humorously.

- What?! No, no! 

Namjoon chuckles and holds one of his hands up. 

- I know, I know. I’m kidding. 

You sigh in relief, hearing him laugh, his eyes disappearing into crescents. 

- In this aspects, our careers are very similar. – You frown.

- Our careers? Similar? How so? 

Maybe you’re blind, but you just can’t picture the similarity of being a famous idol and a nurse, in fact, the gap between these things go far being one can see, yet Namjoon just said that and you’re curious to know why. 

- We’re always running from place to place with rushed goodbyes. 

Your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape, but no sound comes from it and you nod in understanding, after eating a piece of the lemon pie and sipping on the coffee you hum for his attention. 

- At least you have a set schedule. – He looks at you, drinking his coffee. – You prepare your goodbyes before saying them, you can say more before them too.

- Well, and you can save someone’s life.

- Are you counting each other’s professions advantages now? 

You beam at him with a slight frown, he half-smiles at you in return. 

- I guess so.

- In this case… - You place your cup with coffee on the table with a slow gesture. – You too.

- Me too what?

- You save lives too. 

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you, not dumfounded, not confused and it’s not easy for you to read. Namjoon licks his lips and scratches his head. 

- How so? – He mocks your early words and you smile knowingly at him.

- C’mon, you really won’t make me quote Dr. Oliver Sack here, will you? 

You can see his dimples, his white teeth flashing at you and he looks down to eat a piece of his own cake. 

- I wouldn’t dream of, that’s your expertise, how would I keep up with the conversation, then? 

Namjoon half-smiles taking another slide of his lemon pie in his mouth, you sip on your coffee and raise an eyebrow. 

- You seemed just fine when we talked about before.

- That’s about all I know. – He raises his hands in defeat. – A few more books and I may be open to the subject again. – You can’t hold back a small, soft laughter. 

Like you and Namjoon remembered from when you first met, talking to each other is easy-going, like talking to someone you’ve known for too long. How long? Well, much, much more than a month, that’s for certain, and different from what you or even Namjoon could’ve believed the far-spaced conversation through kakao didn’t cause any space to grow and things didn’t really change between when you met and now, nothing that an early morning summer rain couldn’t fix, at least.