Chapter Text
The moment Namjoon opens his eyes, he immediately wants to vomit. The sensations are too much; the feeling of blood flowing through his veins again, his heart pumping away in his chest, light reflected in his eyes, distant noise of traffic and human voices -- it’s all familiar, of course, but all at once they are overwhelming. He leans down, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath as he blinks in the harsh sunlight raining down upon him.
“Ah,” Jeongsu says from right beside him. “The trip back can be a bit nauseating. Do you need a minute?”
“No,” Namjoon hurries to respond. He straightens out, ignoring the unstable feeling in his stomach. “I’m fine. We can go. Sorry.”
Jeongsu doesn’t seem convinced, but nods, and turns to look down the empty street they’re standing on. Namjoon tries to follow his gaze, but the world is still swimming before his eyes. “Let’s see,” Jeongsu says, squinting. “We should go… this way,” he says, pointing in a direction that seems to lead absolutely nowhere. Namjoon nods nonetheless, but when he tries to follow the other in said direction, his pace falters immediately. The feeling of concrete under his feet is too strange, and the absurdity of it all hits him with such force that he has to grab onto a road sign to keep himself standing.
“Okay,” Namjoon says, “maybe I do need a second. Just to regain my balance, I mean.”
Jeongsu comes to a stop before him, a knowing smile on his face. “I thought so. Don’t worry, it’ll pass soon.”
If anyone would know, it’s Jeongsu, Namjoon supposes, and sure enough, soon the nausea starts ebbing out and he feels stable enough to stand up without the help of the trusty road sign. The prospect of taking another step still scares him, however, so he lingers for a moment, taking the opportunity to observe the man who brought him here.
He has never before seen Jeongsu without his wings. It’s confusing to see, as if the world around him hasn’t loaded completely, like his eyes can’t take in the full picture. He’s a lot shorter than what Namjoon is used to, as well. But that seems to go for both of them, he realizes as he looks around. He reaches around to touch his own back, not surprised to find his wings missing and his skin fully human.
He draws a deep breath. Pollution has rendered Seoul air unpleasant on a good day, but Namjoon doesn’t mind today. It’s so familiar, like a greeting with an old friend. He feels the same about the neon signs flickering lifelessly along the alleyway, and the strangers passing by on the adjoining, larger street. It comes back to him quicker than he thought it would; what it feels like to be alive. To be human. He even starts feeling guilty about not addressing Jeongsu properly; no formalities, no sunbaenim , not even a hyung , even though Jeongsu is his superior in every way. His supervisor, one might say. But he knows the concept of being anything but equals regardless of status is a human creation, and it has no place where they’re from. Just because they look human doesn’t mean they are. They never will be again.
“Okay, I think I’m alright,” Namjoon says, straightening up. “I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Namjoon rolls his shoulders and shakes his hands, fascinated and amused by the feeling of blood through his veins. “Thanks.”
Jeongsu eyes him for another few moments before he nods, and they finally set off down the street. “Let’s get going, then. We have a lot to talk about today.”
“Uhm, I’m sorry,” Namjoon says, stumbling a little over his own feet. “Where are we heading first?”
Jeongsu smiles at him. “We’re going to see your first target. Well, maybe not ‘see’ exactly -- I’ll explain when we get there.”
His first target. The mere thought has his pulse picking up, and oh, Namjoon has to fight to keep from laughing. He had forgotten how human emotions felt, how physical they are. No wonder he used to be so tired all the time.
Jeongsu leads him through narrow alleys and empty streets. They walk in silence until the stores, restaurants and closed bars make way for houses and apartment buildings. “Almost there,” Jeongsu mumbles then, and Namjoon feels his excitement building.
That’s when he feels it. Resistance in the air, as if he’s trying to pass through an invisible shield, soft and tangible. His pace stutters; the shield can’t stop him, but there’s something else -- hostility, a rage that slithers over his shoulders and down his back, pushing through him like razor blades piercing through every cell of his body. It sends shivers down his spine. “Uh-- Jeongsu?”
Jeongsu turns to look at him. “You can feel it already, can’t you?”
“I guess so,” Namjoon says, suddenly cold. “But, uhm… What is ‘it’, exactly?”
“Your first target,” Jeongsu tells him seriously. “You’re picking up on what he’s feeling.” Namjoon nods, eyes wide. “Your senses are developing fast, I see.”
Namjoon says nothing, but allows Jeongsu to lead him past rows of houses behind tall brick fences, the uncomfortable, almost frightening feeling growing larger and thicker with each step they take. Whoever his target is, they are in pain. Namjoon can’t wait to meet them.
“Here we are,” Jeongsu says eventually. Namjoon looks up at the closed metal gate in front of them. He can barely make out a two story brick house behind it. “This is the residence of your first target.”
Namjoon nods. The anger he felt earlier is all the more tangible here. He takes a few deep breaths, tries to compartmentalize his emotions. Some for himself, some for his target. “So… Who are they?”
“The name is Kim Taehyung,” Jeongsu replies, leaning against the fence. “Male, about to begin his last year of high school. He lives in this house with his mother, father and younger sister.”
“Taehyung,” Namjoon repeats. He looks up at the second floor windows, but they are all dark. The house looks quiet, empty, but Namjoon knows his target is in there. He can feel him.
“His father has been abusing Taehyung for as long as either of them can remember,” Jeongsu continues. Namjoon lets his gaze drop. That explains it, he supposes. “If things continue the way they are now, he doesn’t have a bright future ahead of him.”
“So that’s where I come in,” Namjoon says. “Right?”
“That’s right,” Jeongsu agrees. “That’s where you come in. You need to help him in any way you can figure out how.”
“How do I do that, exactly?” Namjoon asks. He suddenly feels nervous, antsy, afraid that maybe he doesn’t have what it takes to protect anybody, much less save a life. Abusive parents is such a serious, deep-rooted issue, and he doesn’t have any experience with anything of the sort.
“Come on,” Jeongsu says, gesturing farther down the street. “There are still some things you need to see before I can explain. Taehyung is not your only target, you see.”
Namjoon’s eyes widen. “I have more than one target? Is-is that even possible?”
“Of course it is.”
“But,” Namjoon stutters, “I don’t even know if I’ll be able to take care of my first target properly. How can I focus on all of them at the same time?”
“I will explain,” Jeongsu says, holding his hands up to calm Namjoon’s stream of insecurities. “Just come with me, for now.” Namjoon did not miss this part of his humanity; the self-doubt and constant need for reassurance. He exhales deeply, but does as he’s told.
*
They don’t make it very far until Jeongsu stops in his steps just outside a small gas station. Namjoon looks at him quizzically, and Jeongsu gestures to their left. “Remember this, okay?” he requests, and Namjoon frowns.
“Remember what? The gas station?”
“Yes. It will make sense later, I promise.”
Namjoon really hopes it will. “Okay. Sure.”
He looks towards the glass door, and the small convenience store inside. It doesn’t look special, or like very much at all, but Namjoon does his best to memorize the location at the very least. He catches his own reflection in the glass and freezes for a moment -- it’s been so long since he saw himself in human form. His face, his dimples, the hair he bleached just a few days before his death. It feels like it has been forever, yet he hasn’t aged a day since then.
“Okay,” Jeongsu says then, “let’s move on.” Namjoon has to tear his gaze away from his reflection and follow him. He will have time to stare at himself in the mirror later, he reminds himself, to rouse the sleeping memories of every detail of his face, to get to know himself again.
*
This time, Namjoon can pinpoint the exact location where his next target is long before Jeongsu can even think about telling him. “I can feel them,” Namjoon says, pointing towards a house squeezed in between two others, separated only by a wooden fence. “Over there.” He loses his balance and stumbles a little when the force of his next target’s emotions washes over him; a wave of hopeless despair, enveloping him and constricting until he can’t draw a single breath. A need to get out, a need to escape, and-- wait . “There’s two of them,” Namjoon says, numb. “Isn’t there?”
Jeongsu smiles. If he too is affected by the intensity of the deathwish pushing its way into them, then he does a good job of not showing it. “Very impressive,” he says instead. “Your senses are definitely picking up quickly. Can you separate the two of them in your mind?”
Namjoon looks towards the house and tries to focus on the emotions that come spilling out of it. There’s the desperation, the deathwish, and the other entity -- it is quieter than the first. If the first one raging wildfire, then this one is a bottomless ocean. Dark and heavy, their sadness settles in Namjoon’s bones. For a split second, he hates himself, and he remembers this feeling, identifies it easily. Self-loathing. Self-destruction. Calm acceptance of the fact that he will never amount to anything. He shakes his head, breaking out of the thought. It doesn’t belong to him either way.
“I think so,” he tells Jeongsu. “Who are they?”
“Actually, they are neighbors,” Jeongsu tells him, and as he says it, it clicks in Namjoon’s mind. The second energy is coming from the house next to the one he initially picked up on. “Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook. Eventually, you’ll be able to feel them no matter where you go in this city.”
“Yoongi and Jungkook,” Namjoon repeats to himself. “I don’t know which one of them it is, but-- one of them is so close to giving up already.”
“That would be Yoongi you’re feeling,” Jeongsu confirms, nodding towards the house closest to them. The first energy Namjoon picked up on. “He has been out of high school for a year with no idea what to do with his life. He recently got a job at a local bar and has picked up a habit of drinking, which will only get worse as time goes by.”
Namjoon nods. He is already aching with the need to help him. “And the other?”
“Jungkook is one year younger than Taehyung, which means he is about to start his second to last year of high school. Even at such a young age, he has dealt with many traumas in his life, such as sexual abuse and neglect by his absent mother. He has no concept of what loving or protecting himself means.”
“Good grief,” Namjoon mumbles.
“Yoongi and Jungkook are similar in many ways. To put it simply, while Jungkook feels he is worthless, Yoongi feels his life is.”
Namjoon tears his eyes away from the houses in front and looks up at Jeongsu. “Are you sure I can help these people?”
“I am,” Jeongsu nods, and he looks confident enough. “Here’s the thing. Taehyung, Yoongi and Jungkook -- the three of them, they don’t know it yet but they need each other. And they need you.” He pauses, watching Namjoon process his words and war with his thoughts. “What you need to do, before you do anything else, is to bring the lot of you together. That is your priority as of now.”
“I see,” Namjoon says. He’s a little relieved to hear it. If they can all help one another, at least he won’t be alone.
“As luck would have it, Taehyung and Jungkook are already friends and spend a lot of time together. You’ll be provided with the address to the bar where Yoongi works, and as for Taehyung, we will get to that in a minute.” Namjoon struggles to keep up. His head feels tired already, though he hasn’t been back for more than an hour (a rough estimate; his time perception is a little rusty).
“And once I’ve brought them all together, what do I do then?”
“Follow your instincts,” Jeongsu says. It’s vague, and it doesn’t comfort Namjoon much at all, but the look on Jeongsu’s face says it is an obvious answer. “You’ll be able to sense what they feel. You’ll understand what they need. Trust your own judgement, okay?”
Namjoon breathes in deeply and exhales through his teeth. He’s worried, and he can’t deny it. “Okay.”
“Now,” Jeongsu says, placing a hand on Namjoon’s back to lead him back the way they came. It occurs to him how long it’s been since he felt physical touch, and somehow it makes him sentimental, nostalgic. He looks over his shoulder at Min Yoongi’s and Jeon Jungkook’s houses, praying and hoping that he will have what it takes to get their lives back on track. “Are you sure you want to take on their case? We can still find a replacement if you’re not ready.”
“No, I want to,” Namjoon hurries. No matter how afraid he is, he needs to do this. He needs to help them. After feeling what they’re going through, he can’t wait to get in there and offer them some comfort, even just a sliver of it. He only hopes they will accept it from his hands.
“Okay then,” Jeongsu says, flashing him a wide smile. “Then let’s talk living arrangements.”
*
They finally head out to one of the main streets of the area, and Namjoon’s head is quickly filled with dizziness by the amount of people moving about. Judging by the sunlight it is around lunchtime, and the air is filled with the sounds of traffic, voices, laughter, footfalls, music from the stores on either sides of the street clogging up Namjoon’s mind. He has to fight his urge to grip onto Jeongsu’s arm in fear of getting lost.
“You’ll be taking the place of a young man who passed away this morning,” Jeongsu tells him quietly, and for a moment Namjoon looks around, afraid of being overheard. But anyone who passes them by is quickly lost in the crowd, so he tries to discard the thought and focus on what Jeonsu is telling him. “He was about the same age you were when you passed.”
“What do you mean, ‘take his place’?” Namjoon asks, frowning.
“You will pick up his life where he left it,” Jeongsu clarifies. “You get his apartment, his job, his car, his place at university, etc.”
“But,” Namjoon says, struggling to keep up with Jeongsu who seems completely unbothered by the stream of people in both directions. “What about his family? His friends?”
“Their memories have been corrected,” Jeongsu replies, and Namjoon blinks at the choice of words. ‘Corrected’. “They will remember him, but they will have no connection to your apartment or any of the things you will inherit from him.”
“Okay,” Namjoon says, but he is hesitant, and Jeongsu can tell by a quick glance in his direction.
“Don’t worry, this is all done with his permission. He was offered a place with us as a guardian in exchange, and he accepted.”
“Really?” Namjoon asks, stepping out of the way to let a dangerous-looking older woman pass. “Is it safe to offer positions as guardians to anyone, just like that?”
“Of course not,” Jeongsu says. “There are certain requirements.”
“Such as?” Namjoon presses on.
Jeongsu throws him an amused look. “Well, in the grand scheme of things, the suffering of individual people is unimportant. There is no punishment awaiting guardians who misuse their power or fail their targets. That’s why any guardian needs to have a good, emphatic heart. Sure, anyone who becomes a guardian will be able to sense the emotions of others. But understanding what they mean? Knowing what to do with them? It takes a higher emotional intelligence and an open mind to do that. You have to want to help people just for the sake of helping them.”
“And here I thought everyone wanted that,” Namjoon says quietly.
Jeongsu glances at him again. “You’d be surprised.”
Namjoon is about to ask the next question that comes bubbling up to his lips when suddenly it hits -- as if he just stepped into a redhot spider web, the same desperation he felt outside of Yoongi’s house only multiplied tenfold, and Namjoon stops, gasp falling over his lips when he spots the source of the feeling in a passerby. A young woman, jaws clenched and eyes serious. Namjoon has never felt anything like it, so dark, yet so scorching hot.
“She-- we need to--” he tries, turning to Jeongsu, who also came to a halt in front of him. “We should--”
“Oh, you picked up on that?” Jeongsu asks, calm as always. “Don’t worry, somebody is on her case already. She will be fine.”
The information soothes his fear somewhat, but he is still shaken up. “What was that?” he asks. “Why did I feel that? She isn’t my target, is she?”
“No, she isn’t,” Jeongsu says. He motions for Namjoon to keep walking, and he does, careful step by careful step. “With time, you’ll be able to read the state of mind of any person of your choice. You only just got back, so your senses are still developing. Only the strongest of emotions can get through for now.”
Namjoon says nothing. Curious, he tunes Jeongsu out for a moment and focuses on the people around them -- there are so many and they pass by so quickly that he finds it difficult to find a focal point, but after a few seconds he starts sensing them -- like each and every one of them has an atmosphere, an aura, a bubble of layers of emotion that follow them wherever they go. Namjoon can’t say exactly what all of them are, not yet, anyway, but he can feel them there, bumping against one another as people move, sometimes overlapping, sometimes latching onto one another for a short moment before being wrenched apart by movement.
“I don’t--” Namjoon says, suddenly afraid again. “I don’t know if I can deal with feeling other people’s emotions this strongly. I-- that woman, just passing her by felt like being punched in the stomach.”
Jeongsu laughs, a smile and a laugh that means well. “Don’t worry about that, either. You will learn how to control it eventually. And you’ll be able to turn it off completely when you need some peace and quiet. Or when you only want your own thoughts in there, if you know what I mean.” He presses a hand to his temple for a moment to make his point before letting his hand fall back down to his side.
That’s a relief. Namjoon was never great at dealing with his own emotions when he was alive, so dealing with all of Seoul’s at the same time doesn’t sound too inviting. The thought of his inability to deal with himself once again sends a cold shiver of worry down his spine, but surely he would never have been picked as a guardian if he was as bad as he feels? Surely?
*
Jeongsu takes him to a one room apartment not far from the area where Taehyung lives. It looks brand new, as if it has just been renovated, clean, furnished and modern. Grey walls, wooden floors, a decent amount of space. “This is your new home,” Jeongsu says, removing his shoes and sitting down by the small dinner table while Namjoon takes a look around.
“What are all these things?” Namjoon asks, gaze wandering from the closed laptop on the desk beneath the only window in the room to a black cellphone placed on the neat sheets of his new bed. “They’re not his, are they?”
“The important items have been delivered to his family. Some of the things they wouldn’t miss, like certain items of clothing, are still here.”
Namjoon nods, eyes falling on the dresser by the foot of his bed. He walks over to it, pulling out one of the drawers to find button-up shirts folded and organized by color. He wonders dimly how many of them used to belong to the man who passed away this morning. “How did he die?” he asks, not looking up at Jeongsu.
“He was sick,” Jeongsu says after a few moments of silence. “Cancer. He didn’t tell his family or friends until it was too obvious to hide any longer. It all happened very fast, from their perspective.”
Namjoon nods quietly. It’s similar, in many ways, to when Namjoon himself passed. It’s only a couple of years ago in human time, but it feels like a lifetime. He wonders how his parents felt sorting out his apartment after he passed. He wonders if whatever they felt is easier now, two years later. He hopes so. And he knows, the one thing he can say for sure: Someday they will meet again.
“As for the objects that didn’t come from him, we’ve made sure you’ll be able to live a convincing, and decent, human life. A computer, a cellphone, some figurines you can claim you’ve owned your whole life, etc. We will also make sure that you never have to worry about money, but I will remind you: This money it meant to be used on necessities, not a luxurious lifestyle.” Namjoon shuts the drawer and looks up at Jeongsu, who is watching him with an eyebrow quirked. “Don’t go falling for temptation and buying expensive cars, hoverboards or large TV screens, alright? Remember that you can’t take them with you when you mission is over, either way.”
Namjoon laughs. “That won’t be a problem, I guarantee you.”
“Good,” Jeongsu grins. “Come over here and sit down for a moment.”
Namjoon does as he’s told. The table doesn’t allow for more than two people to use it at the same time and the two chairs beneath it are made from hard plastic.
“Okay,” Jeongsu tells him. “Time to go over the rules.”
Namjoon nods. “I’m all ears.”
“You are allowed to correct people’s memories, but you must change into your guardian form in order to do so. And you are never, under any circumstances, allowed to alter the memories of your targets. Is that clear?”
“It’s clear,” Namjoon says thoughtfully, “but can I ask why? Wouldn’t it be helpful to do so with cases such as Jungkook’s? You told me he’s dealt with a lot of trauma in his life.”
Jeongsu looks down with an almost affectionate smile. Namjoon will always be thankful for his seemingly endless patience with his questions, because Namjoon has never been good at keeping his curiosities inside. “Because, while you can erase the memory of a traumatic event, you can’t touch the emotional trace it left in your target. Instead they’ll be left with the aftermath of what happened to them with no idea why they’re feeling that way, which only makes it all the more difficult to heal. It can’t be erased. It must be healed.”
“Got it,” Namjoon says with a nod. “What else?”
“You are never to show yourself in your guardian form to anybody, including your targets. The exception being if one of your targets’ life is in danger. In that scenario, you need to do whatever you can to save them. If someone who is not your target sees you in your guardian form, you must erase the memory from their mind.”
Namjoon accepts the words without much thought. It makes sense to him, either way, to avoid sensationalism that could damage his chances at helping his targets. Yoongi, Jungkook, Taehyung. He should get used to saying their names.
“Next,” Jeongsu continues, “you must never harm another human being in order to help your targets.”
“That’s a given,” Namjoon says. Jeongsu shoots him a thoughtful look, but doesn’t say anything.
“Whenever an event changes the path your target is on, you will receive updates on their predicted future path. Expect this to happen quite often.”
“Check.”
“But also,” Jeongsu tells him gravely, “you need to be aware that humans can’t always be predicted with perfect accuracy.”
Namjoon frowns. “How come?”
Jeongsu intertwines his hands on the table, expression troubled, as if this conversation is too complicated to get into at this moment. “Well…” he tries, “imagine for a moment that the Earth was inhabited only by us guardians in our true forms. If that was the case, then we would most likely live according to the will of the universe. But humans… aren’t like us. Not entirely. There wouldn’t be so much evil in the world if they were. We share an almost identical sense of consciousness with them, but not our physical bodies.”
“Right,” Namjoon says, listening intently.
“When humans suffer from mental illnesses such as depression, anxiety or the like, it makes them harder to predict. It is a physical condition, but it still affects their minds. You remember, surely.”
Namjoon remembers. Since his passing he has been told that due to his depression, he strayed from the path he was supposed to walk for his ultimate happiness and well-being. He found his way back right before his untimely passing, but he lost out on a lot of happiness because of it.
“That’s why it’s so important that people who suffer from such afflictions get the help that they need,” Jeongsu continues. “The same goes for addiction, alcohol, drugs and the like. Physical things that alter their state of mind. The point is, that sometimes unpredicted situations will arise and you will need to always be ready to give your targets what they need.”
“Okay,” Namjoon says quietly. “I’ll remember that.”
“When a situation like that arises, you might be notified mere minutes before, or even while it is taking place. So it is my advice that you don’t shut off your emotional senses for too long or too often. Understood?”
“Understood,” Namjoon agrees, nodding.
“Good,” Jeongsu tells him before drawing his brows together, seemingly searching through his thoughts for other things Namjoon needs to know. “Now, here’s the thing,” he says then. “It’s not quite time for you to enter your targets’ lives yet. It will still be about a year.”
“A year?!” Namjoon exclaims. Jeongsu nods seriously. “But they-- they’re already suffering so much, how can I wait a year ?”
“Namjoon, take it easy,” Jeongsu tells him with a knowing smile. “None of them are in any immediate danger as of right now, I can assure you that. Sometimes it needs to get a little worse before it gets better. Sometimes you need to get to a certain point of desperation before you are willing to accept other people’s help. Do you understand?”
“I guess so,” Namjoon says, but his heart is still beating hard with worry for his future targets. “But then why am I here already?”
“For several reasons. One, you need some time for your senses and powers to develop. Taking on a human form means giving up some of your guardian identity, you see, and you’ll need time to adjust. Two, it is very important that you take the place of the young man who passed away this morning. Remember the gas station we passed on our way here?” Namjoon nods. “That’s where you’ll be working from now on.”
“At the gas station?” Namjoon repeats with a frown.
“You see, that’s the closest convenience store to Taehyung’s house. He will come by often once the time is right, and as such you will have a way in.”
“Oh,” Namjoon says. He can’t say he is too excited to work at a combined convenience store and gas station -- not only because he has absolutely zero experience with it -- but if that’s his way to Taehyung, then he will readily accept it.
“You will find an detailed list of important information in your computer,” Jeongsu says then, nodding towards the desk beneath the window. “Addresses, your working hours, your university schedule, etc. It should have everything you could possibly need.”
“Okay,” Namjoon says. “Thank you.”
Jeongsu stretches in his chair. “Well, that should just about do it, I think. Unless you have any more questions?”
Namjoon racks his brain for something to ask. He doesn’t feel ready for this, not when there are so many things he can’t possibly know yet, when there is so much instinct involved. But even so, there’s nothing factual that he is unclear about, so he shakes his head.
“Okay then,” Jeongsu says, slowly getting up from his chair. “I should be getting back, so I’ll let you get settled in. I just want to remind you of one thing, though: Pain affects people differently. Your job is not only to keep your targets safe, but to make sure they don’t hurt anybody else.”
Namjoon furrows his brow. Granted, he did only sense their energies for a few short minutes, but he already has a difficult time imagining his targets would ever hurt anybody. “Would they do that?”
Jeongsu hesitates. His sharp eyes look tired in the sunlight from the window. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t get to that point, alright?” When Namjoon doesn’t look convinced, he continues: “Pain is the only reason why humans are so cruel to one another. Not all of them can be helped. The fact that we’ve been presented with an opportunity to save these three people is a blessing, and we are so lucky to have it. Remember that.”
Namjoon nods then, storing the information away to think about on sleepless nights rather than now. “Okay. I will do my best.”
“I’ll get going now,” Jeongsu says then, and Namjoon instantly feels nervous. “Good luck, Namjoon. We all have the utmost faith in you.”
“Thanks,” Namjoon says. He offers a smile that reflects back at him on his superior’s face. Filled with the knowledge that Jeongsu knows exactly what he’s doing, he relaxes a little, yet he still feels tiny and completely alone in such a enormous world, such a enormous city. Jeongsu has turned around and made it to the door when Namjoon finds his tongue again. “Oh, Jeongsu?” The other stops with a hand on the door knob, looking back at Namjoon over his shoulder. “What should I do until it’s time?”
Jeongsu appears to consider it for a few moments. “Go out, test your limits,” he says. “Take yourself for a test drive, if you will. If you find someone you can help, do it. But don’t take on too much -- I know you’re eager to help people, but remember: Taehyung, Jungkook and Yoongi is where your focus should be.”
“Okay,” Namjoon says, nodding. “I’ll do that. Thank you.” Jeongsu offers him another smile before he disappears through the door, shutting it behind him. Namjoon is struck by how many unnecessary feelings a human body goes through; the trace of embarrassment that crept up when Jeongsu mentioned Namjoon’s child-like, hasty need to help , the intense worry about things that haven’t happened yet, the impatience of waiting for things he knows will happen in due time. He will have to find a way to filter those out. Given time, it should be possible, even if he never learned to when he was alive.
Well, he thinks as he gets up from the table, he’d best not waste any time. Best to just get right to it. He walks over to his desk, opens his laptop and presses the power button. As he watches the screen light up, he thinks about his targets; Taehyung, Yoongi, Jungkook. He doesn’t even know what they look like yet, haven’t seen their faces, but he knows them, understands their minds and can feel the outline of their souls, even in this moment, distant but unmistakable. He makes a promise to himself in this moment: No matter how rough things get, he will keep them safe. He will stick with them until the very end.
Just hold on for another year
, he thinks, offers to anyone who might feel his sincerity as he sinks down in his desk chair, gaze on the street outside his window.
It just has to get a little worse, and then I will make it all better -- I swear to you.