#rm scenario

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Namjoon said, looking down at your naked form, a thumb caressing your cheek. The way you knelt in front of him always sent him into a feral, possessive head space, a need to make you his gushing through his veins. He wasn’t prepared for how his collar on you would make him feel. He would’ve thought that after seeing it on you the first few times, the feeling would fade but it only intensified.

As your dominant, he never knelt in front you, too aware of your dynamics but tonight with the question running through his brain, he was wanting more, needing more than he what he already had. So today, he got on his knees, ignoring the way your eyes widened even when they were pointed to your lap.

Cupping your cheeks, he brought his lips to yours, tasting the cheesecake the two of you had shared over dinner at the fancy restaurant he had booked. The sweet caramel on your lips only ignited more of the heat swelling in his gut and he pulled you closer, so close that he was sure he could embed himself into your skin. His hands roamed everywhere they could, from your chest to your waist to your hips, before finally latching on to your ass, his favourite part of yours.

Your moans only egged him on further as he laid you on the cold marble floor, ripping his shirt off, and giving you the privilege of seeing his rippling chest right before he devoured yours. His tongue lapped at your nipples, teeth pulling the flesh taut before letting it go just so he could hear your whimpers. As he stood on his knees and saw you laid in front of him, his heart lurched in his chest. Your chest blooming red from his bites, rose with each of your breath, your legs splayed apart around him gave him the perfect view of how you dripped for him, and your diamond collar glittered in the light of his room, letting him claim you. Yet, he couldn’t help but ask for affirmations.

He slapped you right on your pussy, watching the way you jolted and he couldn’t help but smile, dimples deepening at how you let him do whatever he wanted to you. “Who do you belong to?” he asked with another slap as you moaned, keeping your hands on the floor, despite how you writhed.

“You, sir,” you moaned, legs shaking as he continued his spanks, loving the way his palm got wetter and your folds got redder, puffy with your arousal. With each spank you moaned his ownership of you, till your words turned incoherent as he fingers entered you, pistoning faster and faster.

His other hand moved to your collar, fingers hooking under it to pull you closer so you were almost sitting up, back arching beautifully, hands clambering to grab onto anything but settling into fists by your sides. With his lips grazing yours, he commanded you to come and as you had always done, you followed without delay, spasming in his hold. He could feel you gasping under his touch, just like he could also feel you clenching around his fingers.

His cock twitched in his pants, but tonight wasn’t about relief for him, it was about making you lose your mind, so he continued his assault, making you come again and again, till the floor held a puddle of your juices and your face was covered in salty tears that he prided himself on tasting.

The way you gasped and begged for his cock, made him lose his self control, his heart winning over his sadistic tendencies to give you the reprieve you were dying for. After a quick unzipping of his pants, he turned you around, burying himself within your quaking, over sensitive walls, your wails only spurring him on.

A hand around your waist brought you to him, his chest moulded to your back as he thrust again and again, increasing his speed at your pleading as his teeth latched on to your neck, decorating the skin holding his collar. You were his. Only his. Mind, body, soul. Just as he was yours.

“My fucking perfect girl,” he groaned as he came, his knees chaffed from the hard floor, and his hands holding onto your breasts.

“Your girl. Only yours,” you moaned, going limp from the strength of the orgasm that followed his, your head lolling onto his shoulder. He took the opportunity to bring your lips to his in a searing kiss, uncaring of how sloppy he was being. He was too happy, too content.

He held you close, crossing his legs in front of, disregarding how the combination of your actions ruined his favourite pants. He could hear your breaths easing, getting back to normal as you laughed deliriously, and he couldn’t help laughing along with you, kissing your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he could reach.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, a hand clasped between both of yours and the way you nodded made him blush, his feelings overwhelming him till he got misty eyed.

“Are you okay?” you asked with a grin and he just shook his head, before reaching his free hand into his pocket and pulling out a little velvet box.

“I will be if you marry me,” he said, flipping the lid with a finger, causing the box to drop from his hand. He cursed his clumsiness, picking up the box and presenting the diamond ring that matched the collar on your neck, too scared to look at you.

When you didn’t immediately reply, he cleared his throat, leaving your hands to turn your face towards him, gaze holding yours. “Will you be my wife, sweetheart?”

He didn’t expect the response he got, you were usually meek and reserved, but as you heard the question, you turned and jumped into his arms, kissing him so hard he had no choice but to follow your lead, collapsing on the floor, arms wound tight around you.

“I love you, Namjoon,” you whispered, speaking the words into the universe for the first time and he felt his heart do a little dance in his chest, popping confetti and prompting him to reply in kind.

“I love you too, future wife,” he grinned, grabbing your hand and placing the ring on your finger, making you belong to him yet again.

He may have proposed on a cheesy commercial holiday he hated, but he knew that to you, this commitment and this date meant the world. And who was he to dispute the romantic in you. After all, Namjoon always took good care of the things he owned.

-

But here he is now, sitting in the same room as you are, yet the comfort you wish to seek seems so out of reach.

The quiet between you feels deafening. All of a sudden, the house feels cold. He feels cold.

The guest lounge is still bright and colourful. With all the lights switched on and the rainbow-coloured banners and balloons still hanging on the walls and ceilings. The flowers that he had bought for you look vibrant against your skin.

Oh, dear God, the flowers.

Even the delicate blooms that used to brighten up your day cannot eliminate the hollow pain in your chest as you hold them in your shaking hands. You cannot even recall just how or when these flowers had managed to be transferred from his hands to yours in the midst of the collective shock happening merely minutes ago.

Wait, has it really been minutes?

Those passing minutes do seem like hours as you sit there on the loveseat with Namjoon. Even together, there is a visible distance between the two of you; with you sitting on one end of the loveseat and Namjoon on the other. And that seems nothing compared to the distance you feel inside.

No words have yet to be exchanged as the shock takes its time to die down. You even have a hard time letting reality to sink in, as it barely registers to you what had just happened and why Namjoon seems completely stunned.

Oh, that’s right.

You had come in here to drop some supplies while doing some favours for Namjoon, thinking that he was still somewhere across the globe. Yet you found him standing between all the pretty decors, waiting for you to come, only to have you surprising him in return by unintentionally revealing your secret.

As the event replays itself inside your mind, your chest feels constricted that you can barely breathe. Closing your eyes, you try to focus on calming yourself. The music that had been playing from his record player had just finished, leaving nothing behind but the sound of your steady breathing and the tension that comes between you in its wake.

You had never planned it to go this way.

All the scenarios that you had imagined for this moment and all the ways that you had properly planned to have your confession had never come close to this. As you look around the room, you could see all the effort that he had done to surprise you and your chest grows even tighter with dread and guilt. What was supposed to be a joyous reunion had turned into—whatever it is. All because you had been too scared to tell him the truth.

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice comes out as a whisper, yet it sounds loud enough against the lingering silence.

“What?”

“I, I just—” you choke a little when you look at him. “I’m sorry, Joonie. I never meant for you to find out this way.”

He says nothing at first, but his gaze trails down to your belly. Now that you are sitting down, it pulls on your shirt in a way that is enough to make your pregnancy shows even more clearly.

“It’s our baby,” he mutters softly, sounding more as if he is wondering out loud and making a statement instead of asking. As if voicing it out helps him process this whole thing.

“Yeah,” you answer him with a hoarse voice. “Yes, it is.”

Namjoon looks tense as he falls silent, his expression unreadable. Is that rage you see? Or perhaps a disappointment?

Then the notion of him feeling betrayed or deceived comes into your mind and it is the one that you find hurting you the most. Thinking about it unleashes the dam of emotions that you have been holding back. The sob comes out of your lips first before the tears begin to flow down your cheeks, and it takes a few seconds too long for Namjoon to notice and finally snaps out of it.

His eyes fall on your tears before widening in shock. “Oh, Peach,” he sighs. He reaches out to you slowly, moving tentatively from across the loveseat to sit right beside you.

You feel his arm around you, wrapping itself around your trembling shoulders before he gently pulls you to his chest, and you instantly let yourself fall into his embrace.

Namjoon continues to run his palm gently up and down your back while your body is racking in your cries, soothing you without a word while he listens as you continue to ramble between your continuous sobbing. Your words keep spilling out of control, telling him how you had wanted to let him know, about the dinner that you had planned to help ease the way for you to drop the news on him, and how you didn’t want him to get angry with you.

Namjoon says nothing, as he takes it all in. It doesn't seem to matter if your words are meshed up together with your sobbing and wailing, or if nothing seems to make sense. He doesn't seem to care if his branded shirt is now soaked with your tears, as he doesn't make any move to push you away. He is giving you this moment to spill everything out, all the things that have been bottled up inside.

“So—Dinner, huh?” he mutters with a chuckle once you seem to have enough rambling, surprising you when he sounds so calm and collected while you feel as if you are in shambles.

“What?” you tiredly question him as you pull away.

“How about we have that dinner now? I know that it’s not going the way you wanted it to and we're doing it out of order, but at least we can talk more calmly when food is involved.”

Somehow, you manage to follow Namjoon into his kitchen through your daze.

He takes his time to flick all the lights on while you walk straight towards the fridge. Your mind and body seem to be going on overdrive as you set yourself up to prepare the dinner that you had been planning to make ever since at least a month ago.

A firm hand stops you right as you begin pulling out the fresh pack of meat from the freezer, then you feel him turning you around.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon asks you. His eyes glimmer with wonder and amusement as he looks at you, while you can only return his gaze while feeling confused.

“You said—” you try to speak, except that his hands are now rubbing your arms, becoming a distraction that makes it hard for you to organize your thoughts and words. “Y-you wanted dinner,” you manage to whisper. “I already had in mind to make some pasta dish, and your fav—”

“Ssh—no, Peach. No,” he quickly says while gently ushering you to a nearby chair. He moves carefully as he helps you to sit down, as if you are going to break under his touch if he isn’t careful. His fingers come down to lightly brush against your belly before moving onto your shoulder, brushing your hair back so you can lift your head to look at him.

“You look tired. And I think I’ve made you stress enough it wouldn't be right if I let you cook tonight. How about we order in?”

His calm voice and his gentle smile help soothe your worries, yet they cannot stop your eyes the fresh tears flooding from your eyes. But you swallow back the sob and hold yourself together. There is no point to go on another mental breakdown now when you need to be clear-headed enough to speak to him.

Nodding your head slowly, you keep your eyes on him, watching his warm smile grow when you finally answer, “Okay.”

Namjoon smiles. Leaning forward, he presses a gentle kiss on your temple before stepping away, leaving only briefly to grab his phone and make the food order.

At the lost of his touch, you finally crack and tears fall freely down your face once more. This time, you cannot even blame your hormones for the wave of emotions fluttering in your chest.

It doesn’t take long before the ordered dinner arrives.

Namjoon refuses to let you leave your seat while he arranges the plates, setting up all the food to make it seem as if you are still having the homemade dinner that you had planned for him.

Watching him move around at the kitchen counter makes you feel as if you are dreaming. You still find it hard to believe that you are sitting here at his dining table and that Namjoon is here, right in front of your eyes instead of only seeing his face through the screen of your phone or laptop.

Just like always, his presence brings you comfort. The same way his gentle voice has always been able to lull you to sleep after all the late-night video calls you have been having with him.

But there is something different tonight, when you still unable to shake off the tension rolling through your body. Granted, your previous breakdown had managed to ease some of that tension already. At least it helped lift some of the weight that you have been carrying for months by keeping everything from him.

"Come on, have something to eat first before we talk, okay?" Namjoon says with his signature smile that melts your heart.

Returning his smile, you pick up your chopsticks, feeling another wave of emotions rising when you realise that he had ordered your favourite orange chicken and fried wonton dish from the usual place.

Even in the midst of all the confusion, he is still taking care of you, still remembering to get you the things that you enjoy the most.

The food looks delicious, and it would have tasted as heavenly as your memory serves you, if only you are not feel all numb inside. Pushing the meal around with your chopsticks, you begin to notice that Namjoon has also stopped eating his food. You look up to him, finding him staring at his plate with a distant look in his eyes.

Just as expected, he is also having trouble processing things. He must have been more focused on calming you down that reality hadn't truly sunk on him for a while. Until now.

"Joonie," you gently call him as you place your chopsticks down. His eyes follow your hand before he finally looks up, giving you his rapt attention. His gaze softens when he sees your small smile. "I'm sure you have questions. You can ask me anything you want."

Namjoon places down his own cutleries and settles back on his seat. A bashful smile rises on his face when he looks at you again. "I do have questions. A lot of them, in fact," he admits, before leaning forward to gently hold your hands. "But would it be alright to talk about this now? You seemed disturbed and shocked earlier, I hate to add to your stress when you're—"

He purses his lips together while you tilt your head and smile. "When I'm pregnant with your child?" you tease him, and to your relieve, it draws a soft chuckle out of him. "It's fine. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you're here, but I can bet that you're way more surprised than I am right now."

Once again, you make Namjoon chuckle. But you can see that he is beginning to appear much calmer now. “I think that’s putting it lightly. It’s not every day a man comes home to see the woman he’s been missing like crazy for months only to find out that she’s carrying his baby,” he says with a nervous chuckle.

But you have stopped listening at the part when he mentioned about missing you, as your cheeks began to burn and you immediately look away to hide it from him. Only that he seems to be reading it the wrong way, when he immediately tightens his grip on your hand and apologises.

“I’m so sorry, Peach. That was a bad joke,” he says with a grimace.

“Oh, no. No, that’s not what—” you shake your head, mustering a smile as you lift your chin up. “Okay, ask away.”

With a deep exhale, Namjoon collects his thoughts to ask, “When did you find out? How far along are you? Wait, is that a stupid thing to ask? It was that night when we conceived the baby, wasn't it?”

Namjoon looks a bit lost and confused as he tries to do the math, making you giggle at the sight. Somehow, it helps to make you feel a bit at ease, seeing that he looks more curious than he is pissed about the circumstances.

“It’s not stupid, I promise. And yes, we made the baby when we got together that night at the guest bedroom—" you stop to wonder, "Or maybe from the next morning?”

Before your body gets the chance to warm up at the memory of his touches—the ones that were filled with wanton desire and sinful intention, instead of the comforting brushes he is giving you now—Namjoon's dimpled smile distracts you from it.

"I had gotten around eleven weeks when I found out, which was obviously a bit later than I would've liked it," you continue with a sigh. "I think you were in New Zealand at the time, since I remember it was after you told me about buying a bulk of their local chocolate bars and I suddenly felt sick just thinking about you eating those chocolates every day.”

Namjoon quickly gives you an incredulous look. “But you love chocolate!”

“I know!” you tell him, laughing at his reaction and how silly the situation now seems to you.

“Was that how you found out?”

Shaking your head, you recall what happened the next day. You had gone nearly two weeks without consuming any chocolates and had been feeling sick after drinking your daily caffeine intakes. Namjoon continues to show his disbelief as you are telling him all of this.

"And then my co-worker, Zayna, made a joke about the possibility of me being pregnant, seeing that I kept avoiding sweets and coffee even during my busiest days," you continue with a pout as you remember that day. "I didn’t notice that I had been missing my period for a little over two months until then, so I left the office early and ran to the nearest pharmacy to grab some test packs.”

Okay, maybe more like a whole bulk of them, you think to yourself as you recall the way the woman tending the cashier looked at you when you grabbed nearly every single test pack you could find.

“Then I went straight home and took the test,” you continue, instantly biting your lips once you are done talking. The moment you look up at Namjoon, you are surprised to see the reaction on his face. Because he looks—angry.

Fear clutches at your chest, while your thoughts begin to run wild, making it hard for you to breathe.

Is this the moment when he is going to kick me out of his house?

Before you can say a thing, Namjoon closes his eyes and releases a deep exhale of breath. "You were on your own when you took the test?" His voice sounds trained, as if he is trying his hardest to keep it together, and there is nothing else that you can do but nod your head to answer.

“And nobody was there with you when you saw the result?” Another nod, and he clenches his jaw.

“Fuck, Peach,” he groans. He releases your hand to roughly rub his face, looking frustrated. But more at himself instead of you. “I should’ve been there.”

Swallowing the lump of emotions rising up your throat, you are the one to reach out to him this time, grabbing his hand to help calm him down. “Hey, it’s okay, Joonie. I’m a big girl, remember?”

Perhaps your maternal instinct has already been growing stronger, or perhaps the secret crush that you had harboured for your best friend has grown tenfold before you ever had a chance to figure it out, but the concerned look on his face and the guilt he is showing you only makes you want to protect him from them.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

And there it is, the question that you have been dreading to hear the most. How are you going to explain yourself without making things worse?

But deep down, you realise that you are the one in the wrong, and there is no possible explanation that you could give him to make things right. Except the truth.

“I almost did, multiple times,” you start explaining, suddenly feeling small under his attentive gaze.

“The first time I almost let it slip was on the same night after I took those tests. You called me on the video call to let me know that you were leaving New Zealand and I just—” you breathe in deeply, remembering how he looked that night. Exhausted, stressed, and most likely sleep deprived that had you swallowing every word you were about to give him.

The news would be too much for him to handle, you had thought then. But there was also another reason why you kept it to yourself that night. “I told myself that it would be too soon and there was always the possibility that there was a mistake. That maybe the tests had read things wrong.”

You stop talking for a brief moment, realising just now how stupid that sounds, knowing how many more times you had taken the test after taking the first two just to be sure. Each time, the results had always been the same. Perhaps, you were the one who was in denial, after all.

“I’ve made plans to meet up with my physician the next morning and I promised myself that I’d tell you as soon as it was confirmed that I was indeed pregnant," you continue, "It took me a while to finally embrace the fact that I was having a baby growing and living inside me. I figured—if it had been that hard for me to handle the truth, it would have been harder for you to take the news, with you being so far away from home and everything."

“But you still didn’t tell me after,” Namjoon mutters with a soft voice, and you instinctively lay a hand on your pregnant belly as you answer,

“No, I didn’t.”

Pressing your lips together, you start apologising to him once again for not telling him when you could, and begin to explain, "Confirming that I was pregnant didn't turn out to be the wake up call that I needed. Even when I held the sonogram and all the papers that the doctor had given me, it was still too hard for me to come to terms that I was carrying a whole baby inside me."

With a bitter chuckle, you recall looking at the calendar and the test results each day, waiting for the shoe to drop. "While I was married, not once had my pregnancies ever come to full term. I've always lost them before I even got the chance to think of a name, so in a way, I kept expecting that it would be happening again, and it kept me worrying that the moment I dropped the news on you, then—"

Namjoon's eyes are filled with pain as he listens to your admission, no doubt remembering the things that you had gone through in your failed marriage. All the losses, the pain that you were put through, everything that you had to endure in your struggle to build the family that you had dreamed of.

"Oh, Peach," Namjoon whispers as he pulls your hand and entwines your fingers together with his, a gesture that seems to anchor you to him, grounding you enough to push through the memory of your heartbreak.

"But like a miracle waiting to happen, the baby just kept on growing, and not once had the doctor ever put a warning that something bad was going to happen," you murmur with trembling voice. Tears begin to flood your eyes, but they are happy tears, formed out of relief as you reach down with your free hand and rub against your growing belly.

"And it keeps growing. But I've waited too long to tell you about it that I lost my moment," you add with a nervous chuckle. "I also recall the night you nearly booked a ticket for a flight home only because you saw me sneezing and sniffling during our video chat while I was having a stupid allergy and you thought I got sick after cleaning your house."

Being reminded of this, Namjoon softly laughs. "You looked terrible that day, and I think I was looking for excuses to go home to you."

You shake your head gently. "Every time I thought about telling you, or that I was ready to do it, things kept getting in the way. Either I'd remember that time and start picturing you flying home in the middle of your tight schedule because of this—” you tell him while gesturing to your stomach to make your point clear, "or imagining that you'll be having a hard time focusing on work because you had to think about the poor pregnant woman claiming to have your baby while you have no way of returning home so soon."

"Peach—" Namjoon groans while shaking his head, but you cut him off before he can say anything to deny it.

"Either way," you rush to tell him, "I always clammed up whenever I tried to give you the news. So I kept telling myself that I'd wait until the time was right, but then the time was never right and all of a sudden, you are here.”

Namjoon closes his eyes and releases a deep exhale.

This is it, you once again wonder. He’s livid. He’s going to kick you out to the curb, and then you would have to figure out how to defend yourself with a baby in the way.

Tons of scenarios come flashing through your head that you start losing the ability to breathe, until Namjoon captures your shaking hands in his gentle grip and starts instructing you to calm your breathe.

“Take a slow breath, Peach. Don’t stress,” he pleads to you while kissing your knuckles until your mind is cleared, and you have nothing to focus on other than the warm feeling of his lips pressing on your skin. “That’s it. Take a deep breath. I don’t want you to stress out, okay? It’s not good for the baby and it's certainly not good for you.”

You have no words to say to him, so the only thing that you can do is nod your head. Namjoon holds your hands for a while longer, only until you are finally calm enough, before he lets you go. Your hands immediately feel cold with the loss of his touch that you instantly bring them down on your lap to keep them warm. And to have them pressed on your pregnant belly just to have something for you to hold on to.

“That’s it, no more talking about stressful things,” Namjoon says with a smile, captivating you with his signature dimple and the bright look coming out of his gaze. "I'm not mad at you, Peach," he suddenly adds, surprising you when it sounds as if he knows just what you have been thinking.

"Shocked, obviously. Dumbfounded, mostly. More amused than most," he says with a soft chuckle, before the brightness in his eyes dims. "I just feel so sorry that I haven't been here for you, and that you had to go through all of that on your own when I promised to be here for you."

Immediately, you shake your head. “No, God no. It was never your fault, Namjoon. It’s mine,” you quickly say to him. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth sooner.”

Biting your lips, you are reminded that there is still another reason why you haven't been able to tell him about the news. The reason why you had chosen to keep things to yourself and had been so hesitant about involving him with this whole baby business. Yet you feel unsure about bringing it up, knowing that it isn't your place to question about who he was spending his time with during his time away.

Noticing your change of mood, yet still oblivious to your trail of thoughts, Namjoon gives your hand one last squeeze as you reach up to grab your chopsticks again. "Enough of this," he calmly says, taking away your thoughts about the pictures you saw of him with the woman in the red dress.

Namjoon waves his hand and gestures at the food. “Come on, let’s eat before everything gets cold. We don’t have to talk about everything tonight, do we?”

You fall silent for a brief moment before answering, “No, I suppose not.”

The air between you seems to shift the moment everything had been laid out in the open, and you manage to get some food in as you both continue with the impromptu dinner. Emotions were running high for a while that you are starting to feel the exhaustion rolling in now that things are falling at peace.

Namjoon's deep voice fills the room as you continue to eat, and for a moment, you are start feeling hopeful that perhaps everything may remain the same, even with the big changes happening with the baby getting in the mix. Yet when you think about it now, there is not a single feeling of need to run and hide, believing that you can once again rely on Namjoon, as long as he allows you to.

Or perhaps until the baby arrives.

“Have you been seeing the doctor?” Namjoon suddenly asks you right as you are about to finish dinner.

Swallowing thickly, you answer him with, “Yeah. Yes, I have.”

He seems to be in a deep thought for a moment, before he reaches out, taking your hand back in his while looking rather bashful when he asks, “Do you know what you, um—what we’re having? Or is it too soon to know?”

We. He said ‘we’. Insinuating that he is in this with you.

Thinking about it makes you feel warm in the chest. Perhaps if you haven’t been crying all night, you would feel it burning in your eyes too. But the hope blooming within you is stopping you from shedding more tears.

Before that hopeful feeling has any possible chance to grow bigger and deeper, you try your best to push it back down. Because you cannot afford to hope for anything more than this. Not now. Perhaps not ever, you hear yourself speak when you think about the possibilities of him having any kind of relationship with another female.

He has been a good friend for you, nothing more. He might be your baby’s daddy, but you cannot really hold that against him to get what you want or to force him to be with you.

What the hell am I saying? You chastise yourself by mentally shaking your head at the rogue thoughts coming into your head. Shaking these thoughts away, you hold your voice steady as you ask him about what he meant.

“You mean, the gender?”

“Yeah—”

“Uh, I haven’t asked about it yet. I wanted to wait until I could talk to you. But they said we could find out the gender once we’ve gone over 12 weeks, so we can probably do it on the next appointment.”

And it would be nice if you could come with me.

“Can I come?”

Your heart stops. You suddenly feel uneasy, wondering if you had voiced your thoughts out loud for him to hear it. But Namjoon has once again taken hold of your hand, and is now rubbing gently on your knuckles, making it hard for you to think clearly.

Even after all these years, Namjoon surprises you by showing you that he could easily read you as if you are an open book. Like how he somehow managed to ask first while you were hesitant to ask him to come with you to your next appointment, and how he is reassuring you now when he says,

“I want to be there. Just so you won’t have to deal with everything on your own. We’re supposed to be in this together, aren’t we?”

Something flutters in your chest upon hearing his words. The blooming hope that you are trying to suppress rises up with your relief, yet once again, you refuse to let it bloom into something more. You refuse to allow yourself dream to have more.

Because dreams are the things that hurt you the most.

Perhaps he is simply offering this because he feels responsible. This is what you are telling yourself, reminding you that Namjoon would be willing to do this and remain by your side even if it's for a trivial matter.

Because he is a great friend.

There are a tons of other maybes going on through your head, yet you try not to dwell on them too much. No matter what reason he may have to offer his presence, there is no way you can ever deny him. And it would be best for you to take what you can while it lasts.

You look into his eyes, finding something in his gaze which seems to resemble what you are feeling. The look of hope. You find it adorable that he seems hopeful when it's nothing more but a simple doctor visit, but it warms your heart to know that he would be there for you when you need him, instead of running away the way you had once feared he would.

“Okay,” you finally answer him, making his smile grow wider. “We’ll go together, then.”