Bts Breakup!au - Tumblr Posts

You Can’t Live Without Me - KNJ

Plot: Kim Namjoon has it all. Money, top pedigree, and a guaranteed future. But he lacks true affection in his life. He has no one to blame but himself because the one good thing he had, the one good woman he had, he tossed her aside. He tries to drown his regrets in alcohol. He tries to tell her one more time...

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: one-shot | break-up!au | angst | broken romance | exes

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Female OC (Mileena)

Warnings: Heavy alcohol use, language, class separation, angst, heartache, interracial/intercultural relationship, suggested drug use

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,782

AN: Not gonna lie, I had mixed feelings about this. I know I was all gung-ho about it in the beginning, but now I’m just hurt for a variety of reasons. My intent was to have this be a hot and steamy “we-can’t-be-together-but-screw-it-and-screw-you-while-we-get-naked-on-the-floor” story, but it didn’t turn out that way. I can’t complain. My goal is to hurt feelings. Mine included. All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Something. 

Anything. 

Preferably vodka. 

Oooh yes, vodka vodka vodka. 

That's what he desired at this moment. That was what he needed. Even a shot of gin would satiate his hunger and need for a drink. It was not like he could go back home and just order his pints and be done with it. The closest place to home was Seoul Tree, but Namjoon wasn't feeling that tonight.

Normally Namjoon would rely on his lovely tobacco infested cigarettes or the sweet taste of THC in his lungs and throat, but fortune was being a bitch and his last pack had been lost, having smoked his last joint that morning. Disappeared and vanished into thin air. Plus a bit of alcohol in his system was always a better fix. 

Fingers groped in his pocket, sighing in defeat and disappointment at not discovering a smoke he may have hidden from himself. Instead, he was rewarded with a stick of gum. 

Better than nothing.  

Tearing open the wrapper, he stuck the gum in his mouth and made his way into the bumping, noisy Club Fetish.

Namjoon found his way inside easily enough in the dark. Honestly, he could really find just about any club in the world with his eyes closed if necessary - he snuck in them often enough when he was younger. He'd ditch classes at his boarding school back in Ireland. It was a hell of a place; one of few sanctuaries to him - almost like detention. Wow, was that kind of screwed up for him to think such a thing?

He sighed and passed a few bucks off to the bouncer, allowing him entrance before he was soon greeted by the noise and smells of the club. Drugs were afoot, and whiskey flowed like water as the potent sweat of dancers and grinding club goers reached his nares. Bass from the speakers pulsed across his body. They were calling out to him.

He was a regular at this place for the past couple of days. It showed in the staff's actions of grasping his wrists and guiding him to the nearest booth, fervently asking him what it was he wished to eat. To drink. 

Asking for some side dishes for the time being, he looked at a familiar face and smiled. "Can you bring me some whiskey if you have any? Otherwise, just some vodka would work." 

The waitress, Libby, gave him a look of concern, worried that the side dishes may not be enough for him to handle the alcohol content of vodka and that he shouldn't be drinking during a work night. However, Namjoon quickly waved off the woman's worries. "Don't worry, Libby, I can handle at least that much. And if you're intent on making sure I get fed properly, just bring me some of that kickass fruit and we'll go from there, yeah? Please?"

After hesitating for another moment, Libby disappeared in the back for a moment before returning with a bottle and glass. The glass of the clear liquid was set before him. 

Finally. 

Tilting his head back, the glass was drained and the familiar buzz warmed his soul. Thank God, he thought, smiling and pressing the glass against his face; the cool surface doing wonders to his warm skin. That's all he needed. Well actually he would have appreciated some more.

Soon, dishes of food were prepared for him and he partook of them happily. Libby continued to refill his glass faithfully and to ease the woman's troubled mind, Namjoon made sure to eat something every time he took a drink. It wasn't until he was half bleary eyed and into his eighth shot that an unsettling thought crept into his mind. A worm of worry taunted how he might turn out to be like his uncle. A drunken, pot-addicted madman without a care for the world and overly aggressive with his flourishes - caring more about his appearances with his colleagues and peers than his own nephew. 

Well fuck him.

Namjoon had some tolerance to liquor as he often stole booze from his uncle just to escape the reality of living in that insanity; of dealing with the morbidity of having to acknowledge that his parents were dead and gone. Well, his father was still alive but he may as well have been dead as far as he was concerned. 

He moaned slightly at the pitiful thoughts. He was not here to think about that. For God's sake, he went to America to escape from everything. Except now it seemed to be haunting him.

Only one thing could make this better. Well, several one things. But weed and company would always be welcomed. 

Libby filled his glass again and as Namjoon chewed on a cracker, he sipped the shot of vodka down - umber eyes glossy and with a slightly hazel sheen - wet from the intoxication reflected in their depths. He stared down into the glass, lost in the swirls of liquid and neon lights dancing at the bottom of it.

He needed to learn to stop thinking. Thinking brought on these issues with family, with his ex and her new lover. She was sprouting thorns, the very same thorns he’d once taken the time to pluck away. 

Yes. He needed to cease all thoughts.

More. Alcohol.

The sound of the doorbell ripped through the silence of the apartment. Mileena jumped from her bed, wielding her pillow in both hands. Her hair and sleeping shirt were disheveled and anyone who looked at her would easily have pointed and laughed. 

Thankfully, no one was there.

The ringing continued, reverberating off the walls, and a series of heavy knocks followed suit. Dropping the pillow onto the bed, she trudged out of the bedroom and into the living room. Her eyes veered toward the clock on the wall, spying the time. It was an ungodly hour of the morning and she wasn’t having it. She didn’t care if it was an emergency either. Heads would roll.

Grasping the handle, she wrenched the door open violently. Mileena prepped her leg to shin-kick the person waking her up this early. It didn’t matter that it was her day off. She barely slept and every hour was precious to her.

On the other side was her ex, Namjoon. She pulled a disgusted face as he lazily rolled his neck to peer down at her. He reeked of booze. Her eyes roved over his appearance. He was dressed nicely, like he was out at the club or leaving a company dinner. His suit jacket hung off his shoulders and his tie was half pulled from his neck. Their gazes met and she sighed, folding her arms across her chest as he leaned heavily against her doorframe.

Life had a way of messing things up. It was no different now. They came from two different worlds. Namjoon was the nephew of some big-shot CEO. Mileena worked two jobs and attended night school. She was just starting down the road of obtaining her Masters when she met Namjoon; when he swept her unknowingly off her feet. 

Was he a bad boy? No. He was a hurt boy who had too much time and too much money on his hands. He walked a self-destructive path and Mileena almost fell into the volcano with him.

Being called into the Dean’s office about her attendance record was the wakeup call she needed.

“Hey, Millie,” he rasped, his voice thick with his lack of sobriety, “busy?”

“I hate that goddamn nickname.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I was busy sleeping. You know, that thing that normal people with regular jobs do?”

He chuckled; that low, rolling sound that held a baritone timbre that always made her heart flutter. It was the sound that he made whenever he was going in for the kill. When he was getting ready to open himself up to showcase a sliver of vulnerability. The side of himself that he rarely showed anyone.

But Mileena saw it. It was the reason she fell for him all those years ago in the first place. 

“What do you want, Joon?” 

“What do you think?” he asked, his hand moving out toward her; to touch her. 

She immediately took a step back, moving just out of his reach. His drunken grin fell from his face, replaced with a dour expression. Her eyes narrowed slightly. 

“You’re drunk,” she snapped, moving to shut the door in his face, “call a cab and go home. I don’t have time for this.”

The door rattled beneath her fingers at the sudden blow from Namjoon’s fist against it. She blinked away what little haze of sleep remained. Mileena slowly reached a hand up to run her fingers through her raven-colored hair, digging the pads into the back of her scalp. Releasing a slow exhale, she cast her stormy hues up at Namjoon.

“You need to leave.”

“Just hear me out, Mills.”

“Why should I?” She scoffed. “You smell like you swam in a vat of whiskey. There’s nothing you could possibly say that would convince me to take it seriously.”

“I can’t live without you.”

Mileena felt her jaw grow slack. She stared straight into his eyes, taking note of the surprise on his own face. Namjoon must have realized what he actually said at that moment - the internal conflict clearly showcasing itself across his visage. For a while, neither of them said anything as they lingered in her doorway entrance.

She waited for him to take it back. She expected him to. 

Instead, he looked back at her expectantly. A cold feeling slowly washed over her entire body, chilling her spine as it continued sinking down to the balls of her feet. Her vision swam with the onset of tears and Mileena roughly swiped at her cheeks to prevent them from falling. She saw Namjoon moving, his hand reaching out toward her face. This time, she side-stepped out of reach - her own hand angrily smacking his wrist away from her.

“Then why aren’t you dead yet?” Mileena snapped. “Why are you still breathing, Kim Namjoon?”

Her words hurt him. She knew it did. But the damaged part of her, the part that was hurt that Namjoon came to her again like this, couldn’t feel a shred of remorse for her callous words or her icy tone. She didn’t even care that she would probably regret it in the morning. 

All Mileena could focus on was damaging his spirit.

Namjoon bit his lower lip, his brows furrowing harshly. “That’s not fair,” he murmured, taking a step toward her. 

She took a step back.

“I think it’s very fair!”

She could feel her heart jack-hammering against her ribs, but Mileena refused to relent. She wouldn’t give him an inch. Because already, without having to be told, she knew he would go a mile. 

He moved faster than what should have been possible for someone who was drunk. In seconds, Namjoon was crowding her space and forcing her back into her apartment. Mileena watched him kick the door with his heel, slamming it shut behind him. She stumbled backwards, nearly losing her footing, but a sharp pain twisted around her wrist as Namjoon grabbed her before she could fall. Her body was pulled forward and she gasped when her chest crashed into his.

“Mileena!” he yelled.

“You never cared about me! About my life!” she screamed, trying to free her wrist from his hold as she pushed away from him. There was a sharp pop at her shoulder from the strain pulling at her arm. “Why should you, when your future is already guaranteed?!”

Namjoon blinked down at her. The angry expression he wore slowly began melting away. Mileena felt him loosen his grip on her wrist and she took advantage of the opportunity - yanking herself fully from him. 

They were five feet apart now. Mileena could barely hear her own breathing over the drumming of her heart. Angry tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She shouldn’t have been entertaining any of this. She should have just threatened to call the cops on him. Overwhelming feelings of desire and inadequacy always threatened to strangle her when they were around each other; when he was this close . 

Our lives can never meet in the middle, she thought sadly, feeling her lower lip tremble, and that’s why you ended things.

Gravity held her by the ankles, pulling the rest of her body down to the floor. She collapsed to her knees, her hands falling limply at her sides. All she could do was stare at the hardwood floor, consciously forcing herself not to look up at Namjoon. Mileena already knew. If she looked at him now, he’d see the truth behind her eyes. He’d catch the lie in her seemingly frigid words. It didn’t matter that she was dating someone else.

He would know that she still loved him.

“Please,” she managed to croak, the sound of her voice reflecting how tired she truly was, “just leave.”

There was silence at first. Then the subtle shuffling of feet before hearing her front door open and close - the hinges softly squeaking before the latch caught. Mileena quickly covered her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. 

The silence returned and she knew, for certain, that she was alone.

Namjoon barely felt the people he bumped into on the streets and he didn’t hear their protests. The world was a blur of lights and muffled sounds. But none of it mattered to him. Not one single bit. 

Because the world seemed almost colorless.

Traffic zoomed by and he felt his legs carrying him toward something more quiet and solitary. He needed to get away from all the lights. He needed quiet. He needed a place where he could think; a place where he could fill his head with nothing but thoughts of her.

Pain blossomed over his right knee as he ran into a park bench. He stumbled into the seat, his back popping from crashing into it. For a moment, his vision blurred and there was a soft ringing in his ears. The world swirled in a kaleidoscope of colors momentarily before correcting itself. 

Pressing a hand to his forehead, he shook his head as his palm slid down to cover his eyes. 

“I’m so fuckin’ stupid,” he muttered, pressing the pads of his fingers against his skin.  

It wasn’t like he didn’t know the reason they weren’t together anymore. Namjoon was a selfish prick who had home life issues that stemmed from neglect coupled with substitution methods in the form of “buying affection”. Classic, cookie cutter, spoiled rich kid. He played the misunderstood bad boy and the girls were drawn to him like a moth to the flame. Women filled his bed and faces changed as often as the cleaning staff changed the sheets.

Everything changed when he met Mileena. He wanted to change. He wanted to be better. He wanted to be better for himself because she made him see that there was a different way to do things. Throwing money didn’t gain influence. Behaving like an asshole didn’t achieve success or respect.

But Namjoon knew he was selfish. She wasn’t a dime a dozen. She was his unicorn. 

And just like in fairy tales, his touch tainted her. 

Days bled into weeks. Weeks into months. And then one year became two. The more he wanted her, the more selfish he became. The more he pushed, the more she pulled away. She was right. He didn’t care that Mileena was working and studying. He depended on her and demanded her attention way more than what was necessary. But she continued to give and give and give.

Until one day, she just couldn’t give anymore.

Namjoon collapsed under the pressure of his world. Its fake smiles, fake promises, and cold outer shell. Nothing was genuine, but that didn’t make it any less real. The truth was harsh and slashed at him from the inside out.

He heaved a heavy sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows onto his knees. With a heavy heart, he let everything settle over his body like a lead blanket. He’d fucked it all up and had no one to blame but himself. Because he wasn’t strong enough to truly fight for what he wanted. He was too scared to leave his privilege behind.

Mileena was right. He could live without her. He could still breathe without her. 

But that didn’t mean that he wanted to.

A bitter laugh pushed from Namjoon’s lips as he slowly shook his head.

At least she was free from the shackles of his bullshit.