Chapter Text
Saturday nights tend to get the best of Namjoon. There’s just such a peaceful feeling to resting on his favorite chair while reading a book; as the outside noises ghost through the sliding windows. It creates an atmosphere that is unique to his tiny space within the heaped city.
He’s on page 124 of Pride and Prejudice, a novel that has been collecting dust on his shelves for far too long. So while browsing through his small library to pluck an immersive world he could lose himself into for the night, he laid eyes on the English novel and decided to finally give it a shot. So far, it is a good read; although he’s read much better romances in Korean and Japanese literature, he can recognize Austen’s style is irrevocably intriguing and immersive.
The primrose-pink teacup, posing on the drink table beside him, is still steaming as he picks it up to take a sip. He’s able to anticipate each of the sweet and smoky notes, underlined by a hint of dark chocolate. His aunt might actually be a genius. Ever since she brought him this tea from her trip to the chinese province of Anhui, Namjoon has been spacing it out as much as he can without missing the core flavor. It has become his favorite self-prize for getting through yet another week of rough and wordy drafts.
That reminds him that he should return his mother’s call sometime before next monday rolls by. He’s not been the prime example of how a son should behave and something about that spreads a sour feeling in his gut. But that’s no surprise at this point.
It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy their weekly back and forth, he gets a lot of comfort and assurance from hearing about his family’s whereabouts. But lately there’s just been a sort of neglectance tinting his brain, and he can’t decipher what it is that triggered such change.
Namjoon sets the teacup down to focus back on the paperback on his lap, right beside the Oxford dictionary he keeps near in case of confusion with a particular word or passage (although he still has to rely on his intuition to understand some of the paragraphs and dialogues plagued with extremely outdated idioms).
He’s only mid-sentence at the top of the page when his phone starts buzzing on the kitchenette’s counter.
For a second, his hands stress as he thinks of the possibility of his mother reaching out to scold him for his ausent behavior.
But then he comes back from his instinctual panic, as he remembers.
He, ironically, books it the whole five meters to the opposite side of the apartment. His phone’s lock screen is lit up with the little message notification:
Seokjin
Heyy how are you? :)
Namjoon spots his own insistent grin only when he dumps his weight onto the couchy office chair and his phone screen momentarily turns black after unlocking it. He would usually get an itch in his brain upon seeing his emotions reflected, but as he opens up the message app he takes the distraction without a second of hesitation.
He taps on the typing box, fingers already connecting with his muscle memory.
Hey! All good, having some ‘me time’ at last… :P
Admittedly, he’s not the best texter. His word choice is awkward, nothing seems to translate as well as his mind attempts to; but all of that doesn’t matter when he has the security of having time to think about his responses, unlike face-to-face interactions. Even if that liability made itself present throughout the first few back and forths, Namjoon started feeling more and more at home standing in the weird digital space he and Seokjin created through their chats.
They even have some inside half-jokes, something that, in comparison, took at least a month for he and Hobi to arrive at.
He tries to keep his mind in check as it slips into the passive role of waiting for a response. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait too long.
haha glad to hear that
im just chillin here
agiso wont let me get up from the couch, guess ill have to stay here for the rest of the night… :/
Namjoon’s view briefly slims down as he beams with equal awe at the image of Seokjin’s pet and his owner’s cute sarcasm. Although he is not completely sure how his idea of sarcasm shifted from being annoying to cute.
that’s a shame…but be sure to not fall asleep there tho, trust me i speak from personal experience >:(
Yes, he’s aware of the fact that he is entering dangerous territory. But honestly, why should he care at this point?
hmm you’re right, nvm ill throw her off right away :D
He feels a sideways smile grow on his face, as he is about to type another super funny and engaging sentence he tilts his head back in confusion when realizing that Seokjin sent another text right after the last one. Weird. He didn’t wait for Namjoon to even draft a reply.
hey i wanted to ask you something
Well, there it is. The possibility of Seokjin wanting to intrude in his life past the stage of playfully catching little hints about the other’s reality is not an idea that he has been entertaining, overall. He likes him, that is not necessarily a shocking statement. But there’s a kind of secondary sense (if you could call it such) that fires up his receptors and makes a medieval warzone out of his brain.
would you like to go to the Seoul arts museum with me?
Namjoon’s thumbs hover above the phone screen, his fingers start shaking in place. He does like the thought of him and Seokjin pacing through a classical museum side by side, especially one he hasn’t had the chance to visit yet. But he also knows there is a reason why he hasn’t been there even if it’s the single most popular museum in the entirety of Seoul.
He can picture his mother standing behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder, giving him a look too complex for him to decipher. Of course he could never look too deep into her stares, he wouldn't see the light at the other end if he tried.
Namjoon realizes he has left Seokjin on read for a full minute, he doesn’t get too much time to ponder on this; the situation puts a heavy weight onto his chest, a weight he is not familiar with but maybe could have seen coming from a mile away if the invitation wasn’t so out of the blue.
Therefore, he does the only thing that disguises itself as being better than just standing still like an idiot while Seokjin may be thinking he won’t accept to go.
sure! when were you thinking?
He watches the three little dots blink one by one three times before the bubble pops up.
next saturday maybe?
Namjoon’s aware there’s nothing marked on his calendar for next Saturday. Nothing he could use as an excuse to stall.
He blocks his phone screen, puts it down on the drink table beside him, and gets up. Think, think carefully, think of yourself.
Back in his teenage years, his therapist used to suggest a series of strategies to help when decision-making became a turbulent ride. One of those was making a list of pros and cons of each outcome. He hasn’t used it not even once.
He sighs, the steps of his redundant pacing stopping abruptly.
Desperate times require desperate measures…or whatever. He picks up his phone again but doesn’t sit back down.
yeah, i’m free
He holds the device, seeming cartoonishly small while held by his large hand, the furthest he can without troubling his ability to read. Those damn stupid dots appear again and Namjoon just feels exhausted at this point.
His teeth play with his lower lip, he almost gives himself a dent when the response from Seokjin gets delivered.
cool
see ya then :)
A new thought settles on his already busy mind: he just chose to drag himself off the safe little box it took so many years to build. For a guy he’s known for exactly two weeks and a half.
The exotic tea has gone cold.
__________
The Monday prior to him and Seokjin’s alleged ‘date’, Namjoon finds himself lounging in his office’s tiny break room.
The building floor serving as the company's official workplace is a weird place, it resembles more a startup project from a stay-at-home-mom than an established editorial house. The decor is minimalistic at best and depressing at worst; with its plain white walls, japanese style separators from Danggeun Market, and sad little water dispenser that nobody really bothers to change as often as it probably should be. The break room is just a conjunction with a makeshift kitchen, a large storage closet and a round 2 by 2 table. In conclusion, an office like this shouldn’t have a place among the Korean business’ heart, but alas, here they are.
He stirs his almost-decent milky espresso as he goes over the scribbling on the small 3000 won notepad he bought near the subway. The notes he took while reading the last manuscript he was sent weren’t the best, so now he’s trying to get a clearer vision of what he’s supposed to do in order to make it more eloquent.
He scratches the side of his face, his eyes still clinging to the paper while he fidgets the pen between his index and middle finger.
“Hey!” An excited voice announces.
Namjoon looks up but he knows beforehand who the voice belongs to.
Newest intern Jeon Jungkook is standing in front of him, holding a white mug with the outline of a bunny drawn on it on one hand and a black folder with a thick bulk of papers on the other.
It’s funny. His slacks and shirts are always slightly wrinkled and seem to follow a very strict monochrome theme, his jet black hair keeps a precarious balance between business-casual and local skater boy, Namjoon has even heard some gossip that if you paid enough attention you could see little pierced holes on his nose and lip. It all read out like an emo teenager had swapped bodies with a twenty-three-year-old that very morning.
Yet, he’s still grappling with the fact that Jungkook has become quite essential to the company in only three months while Namjoon took two and a half years to get to that status.
“Good morning, Jungkook.” He forces out of himself with a crooked smile, swallowing down the cringey greeting with a sip of his coffee.
“Morning” He rests the mug and folder on the table and slides on the chair that’s closest to Namjoon. The latter blinks, taken aback by the sudden proximity.
“Have you read the new incomer yet? It’s really good, right?” He smiles with his front teeth on display, head resting on the palm of his hand as he puts his whole attention on Namjoon. Round shiny eyes boring into him like a deer caught in the headlights.
Namjoon looks down, he doesn’t say anything for a while. It is torture. He wrecks his brain trying to come up with a genuine response, because he does have an opinion about the newcomer’s manuscript, but his senses are too lit up for him to think straight.
Even when he’s supposed to be taking a break from forcing activity on his brain, he still can’t catch not even a grain of mental stability while in this godforsaken office.
Obviously Jungkook is not at fault, the kid is probably just trying to make friends with one of the only people in his own age range. Still, he sometimes wishes he could read a little between the lines and not approach him as often as he does, or at least not be so intense about it.
“Uhh not your cup of tea I suppose?”
He can make up the intern’s increasingly smaller smile from the corner of his eyes, and it triggers a mix of stomach and headache. He’s most likely coming to the realization that Namjoon is disconnected from the attempt at conversation, and he’s coming across as an arrogant jackass. Yet again.
Namjoon stays still while looking at the page he was scribbling down with, honestly, not much thought put into it - Come on, man. Say something already.
“Do you want to read my notes?” He dares to take a quick look as he offers his cheap notepad to him in a swift motion.
“Sure!” Jungkook grabs the notepad with careful hands, he looks surprised but glad at the same time. The tip of his index finger underlines the words as he reads. “Hmmm, wow. It’s very interesting, Namjoon-ssi, I haven’t thought about it this way. You have such an eye for these things, it’s-”
Jungkook finally turns to address Namjoon. The break room is empty.
Namjoon sits with in his pretend-cubicule wanting to throw up the stupid watered down coffee.
He knows his limits, he knows his fears; but sometimes he’s at disbelief with his own social incompetence. What the hell was he thinking? Leaving someone talking to themselves is just plain rude, he didn’t used to be like this. He would at least listen, push out little short comments now and then to show he truly was engaged in the interaction. Now he just behaved like a brat for no valid reason whatsoever.
Jungkook was just being nice and he shut it down. He shot him down.
Perhaps he should talk to Hyunwoo about the possibility of working from home full time.
_____________
The rest of that week goes by in a rush.
He had the decency to come back to Hop Cakes, as he and Hobi returned to their weekly tradition within their uneventful series of reunions, and the best he could do when being interrogated about the Seokjin situation was to look down and lie about the whole thing. Thankfully, Hobi knows him so well that he perceived his ambiguous body language and knew it was better to leave the topic alone; he even offered him a free boba despite Mi-Kyung’s judgemental stares.
On a different note, he managed to have a video call with his bosses and team about 20% more fluidly than the last few times.Truth be told, at this point of his career Namjoon has learned he doesn’t need to bear his worries past the point of the usual brief pleasantries and small business talk in these virtual reunions. He’s been practicing the art of faking his way into a carefree notes presentation; being granted the opportunity to spill all the literary criticism he hoards by the end of each week is not something he wants to purposefully lack nurturing of.
He and Seokjin chatted a few more times during that work week, though it was mostly Seokjin sending him the details to their…date? and Namjoon freaking out internally but trying to keep the actual conversation light and fun.
He even sent him a few landscape pictures he took on his quick bike-riding escapade on Wednesday afternoon. At least he seemed to like those. Maybe he could show him his photo collection one day. It's filled with some of the most beautiful places and things he's seen all across Korea, and is probably one of his most prized possessions.
Regardless, when Namjoon wakes up that Saturday morning he tries to act like it’s just another weekend. His alarm goes off at exactly 8 a.m, he gets out of bed at 8:30 and does some washing up just for the sake of waking himself up and charging some energy for the day (night showers are the way to go most of the time).
The way he paces around his apartment radiating a sort of euphoric aura reminds him of Hobi during the morning of his first serious dance competition, or his mother the day of his sister’s wedding.
He stops mid-step in the short hallway connecting the living room/kitchen to the bedroom and bathroom area, the toothbrush he was holding now hangs by the side of his mouth.
He promised to call his mother during the week.
He rushes to the bedroom, mouth still full of foamy toothpaste, where his phone is charging and quickly sets up a reminder to call her as soon as he gets back from the ‘date’. He would do it now if he weren’t aware of how worked up he’s getting as the minutes go by and the time to step out of his apartment comes closer and closer.
One emergency alarm at the time, thank you.
Perhaps the worst part of actually getting changed and ready for the ‘date’ is- well, all of it. He doesn’t necessarily hate the different outfits he puts together, but none of them seem to click the way he wants them too. Namjoon doesn’t (or at least tries not to) half-ass things, and if he can’t look his best when officially hanging out with Seokjin for the first time then what’s the point of even going out in the first place?
Knowing the way things tend to develop, he decides to send Hobi, a fashion god basically, pictures of all the outfits and push him to decide for him; he clarifies it’s an emergency and yeah yeah, he’ll explain later, promise.
In the end, Hobi picks the sage green collar t-shirt with white cargo shorts and tells him to add the black bucket hat, from another combo, to accessorize.
By the time he gets to the side of the building where his bike rests, he has only 10 minutes to get to the park on time.
Thank god he has a good pair of legs to do the work.
___________
Independence Park was the first place Namjoon had visited as soon as he stepped foot in Seodaemun. He remembers going around in circles, eating a vanilla ice cream cone under the scorching July sun. The first few months after deciding to move to Seoul for good, Namjoon spent uncountable days (and some evenings too) coming here to grab a piece of fresh air and nature. Although sometime along the way, the place lost its charm, leaving Namjoon yearning for something else, new and exciting once again.
So now that Seokjin suggested for them to meet up near the grand white stone arch, old patchy memories start latching into his brain, one of them is taking one of the first pictures in the exact same place he’s standing now; clueless, fairly tight on the money, and secretly hoping his family would drag him back to Ilsan.
He fixes the bucket hat a little higher so he can glance up at the sky. He’s seen better days, today is pretty humid and he had to work some serious magic to get his grown out hair to look decent, though some strings of sunlight manage to break through the thick clouds hanging above the city.
Normally he prefers the sky straight up pouring but something tells him Seokjin is more of a sunny day guy. That he enjoys laying under the shade of a tree, sucking the juice out a watermelon or a peach, chatting and playing games with friends until they pass out from laughing so hard at dumb inside jokes and ridiculous theatrics. The image alone sends a warm sensation down his body, even if he’s not in the picture he just made in his head.
He squints up as if he could summon more sunlight just by staring at the sky like a mad man.
“Excuse me” A touch on the back of his shoulder almost makes him volt out of place.
He turns around to be greeted by a woman, in her thirties for what it looks like, holding a disposable camera as if she wants to offer it to him. Well, it must be just his luck to look so approachable to random strangers.
Her Korean accent comes with a tinge he doesn’t quite recognize. A tourist.
“Could you take a picture of us?” She motions to herself and a group of people of her same age a few meters behind her.
Here’s the thing. Namjoon likes to help whenever he can, he likes to be useful to other people, he likes to act selfless and reflect his morals into his everyday life. He tries to push himself out of his comfort zone at least once a week, even though it’s never guaranteed to work every time, and lately it's been a hit-or-miss kind of situation.
But at the same time, today he’s feeling pretty content. He looks at the woman’s expectant face and at the group of friends waiting for him to accept taking the damn picture. He offers a thin lipped smile and extends out his hand to the woman.
The group of friends/family/whatever gather up right in the middle of the arch, hugging each other’s shoulders and showing off sincere grins. Namjoon snaps a couple of pictures just to be sure it’s all good.
“Thank you!” The woman bows to him, Namjoon returns the gesture and watches the group turn around and leave to the opposite side of the park.
He rubs some of the sweat of his hands on the cargo shorts, he does a double take in case he actually stained them.
“Hey!”
Namjoon snaps his head up and for a second he feels like he’s in a dream. Seokjin is walking towards him, looking ethereal as ever with a jean jacket, black pants and plain white t-shirt. Simple but effective.
He stops in front of him.
“Hey” Namjoon smiles, although he’s mentally doing a check-up of his own state.
So far there are no alarms going off in his head, just a bit of a drowsy feeling, like the ground under his feet suddenly disappeared and he’s just hovering over it. But on a quick run over of the dozens of thoughts bouncing around his head, he decides he’s ready for whatever the day has in store for him. Call it an optimist's intuition.
“Were you helping out those guys?” Seokjin gestures with his head to the group of people moving further away.
“Yeah, one of them asked me if I could take a picture for them” He shrugs.
“Aish, you’re such a kind guy” He slaps his shoulder with a smirk.
Namjoon looks down, a very stupid laugh coming off of him. He’s not entirely sure of why he touched him like that but…is it wrong to say he kinda liked it?
“It was nothing, anyone would’ve done it” He rolls his eyes, trying to match whatever vibe is going on between them.
“Mmmm I don’t know about that,” He looks to the side for a moment “the time I traveled to Japan I asked a guy for a picture and he just looked me up and down and left”
Namjoon snorts like he just told the funniest anecdote on Earth. God, he’s got it bad, and they’re just getting to know each other.
Who knows what’s going to happen if they manage to get out of this initial awkward phase.
But Seokjin smiles at him and it feels warm all over and Namjoon feels kinda stupid. Is he back to being fourteen or what?
“Perhaps he got freaked out by the amount of denim you got going on”
Seokjin raises an eyebrow, mouth slightly agape.
“Hey! Denim is a timeless fabric, plus it just happens to look great on me” A proud grin on his face.
“I agree” He responds, his instincts getting ahead of his logical sense. He cringes. Stupid.
Seokjin looks taken by surprise for a moment, but it only lasts a second as he quickly recovers from it.
“Of course you do”
Namjoon looks down. A warmth spreading up his face. Well, at least that didn’t go as wrong as he expected.
“Um, do you want to take the subway?” Oh yeah, the museum.”There’s a direct entrance at the Jung station”
“Sure” Namjoon nods, “Oh, by the way, how’s the scar on your hand?”
They start walking side by side.
“Ah it’s healing well, thankfully. You know, I think Agiso kinda hates me sometimes” Namjoon frowns with an incredulous look on his face.
“No, but it’s true, I live with two other people and I’m the only one that gets scratched!”
They keep talking all the way to the subway station and that moment Namjoon, somehow, gets to turn his critical brain off.
He’d forgotten how good it feels to have a fresh start with someone.
_____________
The subway ride to the museum is pretty fast but also filled with so many people that he and Seokjin have to elbow their way inside and lean on everyone around them. Namjoon could’ve had a panic attack right then, and he was pretty close to it more than once if they weren’t only one station away. Still, he got out of the wagon sweating for his life and had no better idea than to hide it by pulling his hat lower. Clever guy.
But when they get through the passage between the station and the green outdoors space leading to the museum, an odd kind of excitement courses all through his body. Truth be told, when Seokjin offered to come here in the first place, he tried to bury the giddiness of finally seeing some of the works he’s been obsessing over most of his life; convincing himself that it would turn out in pure chaos. Yet, he can’t help strutting right up the abnormally shaped building, accidently leaving Seokjin slightly behind.
“Easy, you haven’t seen none of the artworks yet”
He can hear Seokjin’s laugh as he speaks, Namjoon turns around and he knows he must have a big goofy grin on his face, the one his sister always made fun of when they were younger. But Seokjin catches up to him and he looks so charming and maybe even as excited as Namjoon is.
“I know, I know. I’m just…” He turns back to admire the large building in front of him “really glad to be here.”
“Me too” He nods. “Shall we?”
“Yeah” Namjoon sighs.
Once they get into the actual establishment Namjoon approaches the waiting line for the counter, checking his wallet just for good measure.
“What are you doing?”
“Uhh, buying us tickets?” He frowns.
“I already got them, bought them online like three days ago”
“Oh” He slowly puts his wallet back into the shorts pocket. “Hyung, you shouldn’t have”
Seokjin’s eyes widen, he opens his mouth to say something until Namjoon realizes what he just said, and how he said it.
“Ahh sorry, I should’ve asked if you were okay with me calling you that, I-”
“Namjoon-ah, of course it’s okay” He rolls his eyes. “Now, come on. We’re blocking the line”
They move out of the way and a few people grunt at them.
“Excuse us, sorry!” Seokjin calls as he drags both of them away, and Namjoon can’t do much other than letting himself get walked out and laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of the situation.
They walk with a relatively close distance to each other, making their way to where they get their tickets checked. Namjoon can feel Seokjin’s proximity, he’s used to getting a bit annoyed when people (that aren’t his family and/or Hobi) try to get physically closer to him without his explicit approval of it. With Seokjin, despite how much he does like his presence, it’s no different. It’s not a matter of how keen he is of the person that gets close to him, but a sensory response he’s had since he was a kid, it’s just that the people that know him are aware of this peculiarity and tend to cooperate.
He does his best to swallow it down anyway.
They make their way to the labyrinth-like corridors. It’s crazy the way it’s all been thought out, the architecture of the museum is a separate work of art itself. Obviously it’s a demonstration of some of the later trends of modernism, not Namjoon’s favorite style of architecture, but it’s still pretty admirable for its originality and creativity in the unique design.
“So, where do you want to go first?” Seokjin asks, his hands hidden inside his jacket’s pockets.
Namjoon opens his mouth, then he closes it. Good question.
“We can go wherever you want” He settles on.
“But didn’t you have something in mind already?” Seokjin stops walking to really look at him for a moment.
Namjoon bites the inside of his cheek, looks down and to the side. It’s true, partly. He goes to museums carrying a baggage of knowledge about what is being shown in there, he knows his stuff when it comes to art. But this one time, he made a decision to let himself be amazed; this is the goddamn most important museum in all of South Korea, and this is his first time visiting it, he wants it to feel as fresh and serotonin-inducing as it deserves to be.
“I’m fine with just wandering around” He gives him a shy smile. “If you’re fine with it too” He adds just in case.
“Ohh yeah, that’s cool. It’s like we’re letting the art choose us” He cranes his neck to look at Namjoon, the latter laughs as they resume their walking.
The first bright white room they arrive in is plastered with abstract paintings by one of Namjoon’s favorite artists: Kwan In-Sik.
As soon as they step into the conjunction, Namjoon takes three long steps, he lets himself be guided by his instincts. And it turns out to be surprisingly easy to do so, despite not being used to unsticking to his familiar ways.
He stops in front of the third painting on the left row. The background is all white with a bunch of green, yellow, and blue circles dancing around the middle of the composition. The white is such a precise choice, it makes the shapes seem like pieces of glass, tinted with color but with a certain transparency. And the peace that the combination of different shades create when laced with each other it’s so entrancing.
“Huh” He hears Seokjin say next to him.
“Yeah”
He takes the most minimal step closer to the painting, In-Sik didn’t go overly mad on the more subtle details, but Namjoon knows better than that. So he plays with the angle, tilts his head to one side, then the other. Speckles his eyes from top to bottom, from bottom to top.
He finds something. It becomes all so clear then. One of the most magical features of the artistic world: subjectivity.
“What are you seeing?” Seokjin talks with perhaps the most subdued tone he’s heard from him so far.
Namjoon waits a couple of seconds, to let the idea in his head sink in, before turning to his companion with a shy smile.
“Have I ever told you about my mom?” Seokjin frowns.
“I don’t think so, no”
Namjoon nods, his lips pressed into a thin line. He turns his gaze back to the painting in front of them.
“A year or so before she got pregnant with me she got a job at a children’s hospital in Ilsan, she worked in the administration of hospitalized cancer patients.” He turns to Seokjin, the latter’s face looks soft but perceptive to hear the rest of what Namjoon is offering to tell.
“Even though she didn’t have direct contact with the patients, she usually got along with most of the family members that went to visit them. They knew how much she genuinely cared about the kids, always going the extra mile to make sure they would have the best time possible given the conditions they were in.”
Seokjin squints, the eye contact between them charged with an iron tension.
“What happened?”
Namjoon looks down at the polished wooden floor beneath them, not having the strength to stare at Seokjin’s worried face. Quite blessed with the lack of knowledge about the end of the story.
“She got so many warnings from her boss but she brushed them off. She thought it was just a minor inconvenience for him.” He pauses. “Until one monday she got to the hospital to find all her stuff in a box, and a dismissal letter taped on it.”
For a brief moment neither of them speak, the low frequency of people talking and going from one section of the room to the other is the only ambient sound they have.
Namjoon thinks he hears Seokjin preparing to say something, so he goes on. As one does.
“One day she received a package on her doorstep signed by one of the moms she was very friendly with, just a gift for her kindness. It was a hanging mobile, one of those crafts for babies to play with.”
Namjoon looks back at the painting in front of them, then at Seokjin. He looks confused for a second until he seems to remember the artpiece’s existence.
“Those were the colors” Namjoon barely moves his head as a gesture towards it.
Seokjin just breathes beside him, deep and sound, his eyes refusing to leave the canvas.
“That’s what I see” He whispers, he keeps his focus on Seokjin.
The selfish portion of his brain wants him to look back, to express some kind of understanding and to salvage a way to move on from the stilted air weaving them. But Namjoon is aware that he was the one to bring this up, without really thinking about what would come next. Somehow, he cannot find it in himself to feel guilty or embarrassed about it the same way he would if he told an unfunny joke or tripped on his own feet.
Only then Seokjin slowly leaves the painting out of his field of view.
“Namjoon-ah, that’s…”
“I know. I’m sorry if I turned the mood down.” That is something he can recognise and feel a bit upset about.
“No. Don’t apologize, please. I just-” He speaks like someone whose face is squished against a pillow. “We-um, do you want to go see the sculptures?” He asks.
“Yes, sure”
If a certain tint of melancholy makes its way to his pretend smile, he only wishes Seokjin is oblivious to it.
_____________
The rest of their trajectory through the museum goes well. That’s all.
Namjoon checks on Seokjin way too many times, he’s aware of it, but he can’t help feeling like he ruined the lightheartedness of their date. They joked and teased each other before he had to open his big mouth and ruin it. A horrifying thought lands on his head right then, what if he was unconsciously trying to sabotage their date? No, no no, that couldn’t be possibly true…right?
But thankfully for both of them, the mood gets picked back up when they arrive at the main exhibition of this week. They entertain each other by theorizing about who the artist in charge of it may be, and how they could have so many people waiting in line just to see their art..
“Kim Sang-Yu” Seokjin reads out loud from the plastic plaque on the side of the entrance. He’s an upcoming artist that Namjoon doesn’t quite recognize but the name rings a bell.
Namjoon takes the first step into the spacious room.
This is the moment he’s honestly been dreading the most. The big chucks of people talking and being loud? It is normally not that big of a deal (yes, the last time at Hop Cakes was kind of an exception, he got taken by surprise okay?) But, as dumb and cheesy as it may sound, art is something almost sacred for him. He wants to have the right ambience to enjoy it, that’s why he’s used to staying away from these big metropolitan museums that get huge masses of people every day.
And not to sound like an elitist and presumptuous jerk but a lot of people just kind of get dragged here by their friends or family members because it just happens to be one of the most well known tourist attractions in Seoul. Namjoon wouldn’t want to put barriers around art, on the contrary, he loves that people that aren’t very familiar with this world are willing to give it a chance and maybe fall in love with it too. He just wishes he weren’t so damn susceptible to these stupid sensorial triggers.
Namjoon does a 180 degree scan of the room, now he thinks he recognizes the artist’s work.
“Oh yeah! I know who this is” Seokjin slaps his arm. Namjoon, out of all things, beams at him. Nice synchronization.
“Me too. Sang-Yu’s work is incredible” He wanders through the sea of people, some of them static in one place, others moving from one corner to the other.
“Yeah” He hears Seokjin say behind him, the breathy quality of his voice caresses Namjoon’s back as he stops walking. An electric shiver runs down his spine, making the back of his neck tingle and his cheeks redden.
They stare at each other, a tender smile snuggles into Seokjin’s lips. And the warmth he feels inside turns up to an ever higher degree; and he might be about to combust and cry and throw up because he didn’t ask for any of this but now there’s no turning back.
“Huh” Seokjin says when he looks past Namjoon, a puzzled grimace getting in the way of their nonverbal interaction, he turns around to follow his gaze.
Namjoon has to crane his neck a bit to the right to get a good look at the piece Seokjin made notice of. Or rather the pieces he made notice of.
It’s a series of small frames mounted one next to the other all along the wall on the right side. They are chinese ink drawings in a similar style of the traditional work using this tool. All of the small depictions seen from afar resemble comic book vignettes, telling a story from beginning to end.
Seokjin stands beside him, his hand haunting the air around Namjoon’s own.
“Your turn” Namjoon says out loud before he can play too much with the thought.
“Mm?” He looks back at him confused.
“What do you see here?”
Seokjin maps out his features with his eyes, Namjoon is not completely sure what could be going through his head right now, and for a moment he wonders if he’s about to call him a pretentious asshole or snap at him and say that he didn’t even want to come hang out with him here. Or worse, maybe he thought this would go great and now he realizes it’s an actual nightmare.
“Namjoon-ah, I’m not really good at this” He looks to the side and scratches the skin behind his ear. “And I don’t have any special connections or stories linked to any of these paintings, I just, I’m not used to looking as deep into this stuff as someone else may do”
He doesn’t make eye contact with Namjoon as he speaks, neither when he’s finished doing so.
“Hyung” He takes the smallest step closer to him. His eyes really open up then, emanating a dreamy shimmer too.
“Don’t worry, I’m not an expert either. I just let my head make some connections, they don’t really have to be meaningful or deep. You know, I think a major part of what an artist does when they create something is to open up a conversation, to invite other people into their world.”
He makes a tiny pause, Seokjin doesn’t interrupt him.
“Because what you see here,” He gestures all around them with both hands.”These are all small portions of the artist’s souls, they might not represent who they are for the rest of their lives, but they represent who they were when they created them.”
Seokjin appears to be unconvinced still. And Namjoon’s heartbeat burns through his skin as he’s setting the stage for his next argument.
“Look, if I wanted to know all about the technical aspects of every single piece I find interesting here, I would simply buy the guide they sell at the gift store.”
At this, the corners of his mouth slowly turn up into a smile.
“What I really want to know is what Kim Seokjin perceives, whatever connections his mind comes up with”
Seokjin nods once, but doesn’t attempt to say anything yet.
They stand still next to each other, and just when Namjoon is about to stop restricting from talking about his perspective, Seokjin starts talking.
“I guess what I see is…joy?” He turns to him, seeking some kind of approval, Namjoon nods to encourage him. “I mean, it’s like these people in the drawings, they are all doing something and look happy while doing so. They are writing, dancing, praying…maybe they could be honing their craft. Doing stuff they love, and these drawings are a way of paying homage to everyone’s passions?”
If Namjoon had any doubts about whether this would end well or result in being a bad idea and an even worse anecdote, those thoughts now take a dive into a hidden corner of his mind, a place where they can rest and take a break from sprinting all around his head.
Because Seokjin has his hands off his pockets, he gestures as he talks, he’s no longer slouching, and he stares at Namjoon like he values his opinion; like he wants to get approval of his analysis. Because he strikes a nerve he wasn’t sure he had, one that connects directly to his vulnerability and puts a mirror in one of the pieces he’s been missing for as long as he’s had a sense of self.
“So…yeah” Seokjin looks down, his figure glows under the small yellow lamps over their heads.
“I can see it, yes” He speaks carefully. “See? You do have an eye for art. You just gotta let go of everyone else’s expectations, it’s just you and whatever you’re perceiving, allow yourself to make a connection with it and, well, don’t be afraid to share if that’s what you want”
But perhaps the thing he was expecting the least was Seokjin, someone he had only hung out with in person one and a half times, giving him a blinding smile. For the first time he gets to see him in a different light for what he was used to: chubby cheeks, scrunched nose and lips pursed. He looks like a cute little hamster and his heart melts at the sight, a totally different perspective on him than when he had initially admired his outworldly elegance at the museum where they first met.
“Thanks” He says, and it feels sincere and genuine and pure. “Those pesky art critics better watch out, Kim Seokjin is coming for their job”
Namjoon smiles with closed lips and squinted eyes, but it’s not at all like his fake smile. More of a slightly flustered one at that.
“Tell you a secret?” Seokjin nods with curious eyes. “Most of those critics are full of shit and write only about what the magazines they work for want them to say. I don’t fully blame them though, making a living out of art is…hard”
Seokjin scoffs beside him.
“Yeah, tell that to the struggling actor right beside you” He mocks.
Namjoon laughs with a fist covering his mouth, he’s not looking directly at him but somehow he knows Seokjin’s laughing too. Hard to miss with such a unique way of snorting, noticing this for the first time, he laughs even harder.
The joke wasn’t even that funny, they both probably know that. But Seokjin’s laugh is really contagious and it spreads a soothing warmth on Namjoon’s entire body.
In that moment he knows he’s made a hell of a choice for his Saturday afternoon plans.
____________
“You want me to go with you?” He asks with a slight hesitancy in his tone.
“Um no, it’s fine. I’ll be quick” Namjoon responds. And then he’s out of sight, captured inside the narrow corridor’s bathroom.
The place is in top notch form, he guesses it’s because the people in charge of the museum know its reputation and want to keep it as pristine as possible. The artificial lavender fragrance goes aggressively up his nose, and the soft yellow LED lights bathe his reflection in a weird orange tint, it makes his reflection in the big mirror look stupidly out of place with the neatness of the place.
Now that he’s alone (and he knows that wouldn’t last for long), he lets out a barely audible sigh. He’s having a good time, but he forgot for a moment that that is something he often has to remind himself before an imminent crisis strikes in.
Namjoon bites his lower lip, in the least sexy way possible, until it hurts; but not enough to make it bleed and leave evidence for Seokjin (or anyone else for that matter) to make questions about his mental state. No, thank you.
He takes a few deep breaths. He’s okay, of course he is. Him and Seokjin are, in fact, having a great time. And yet, here he is. Hiding away in the men’s toilet of the most amazing museum in all of South Korea, counting with Seokjin’s undivided attention and company; hell, the guy is right on the other side of the door, waiting for him. Actively choosing to wait for him.
A tightly locked away memory invades his consciousness momentarily: Namjoon, age thirteen, had gone out with his ‘friends’ to the newly inaugurated mall. They convinced him to try on a linen light blue sweater he had been eyeing from the minute they stepped into the expensive-looking store, with the excuse that they would split the price between the group and he could pay them back later (no one told him they would actually go shopping for clothes). But when he pulled back the velvet curtain of the tiny booth, ready to praise their kindness and accept to take the sweater, an empty waiting space was all he saw. They weren’t anywhere else in the mall either. Taehyun, Sungwoo, Jihoon…all of them had left him all by himself in a place he didn’t know and was at least 30 blocks from his house, he did not even have enough money to take the bus. His father made him wash all of the family’s clothes (by hand) for a week straight upon hearing about the incident.
He exhales an uneven breath, holding his head between the palms of his dry shaky hands.
This is not the time to dig into his past, that much he’s aware of. But when he catches a portion of his reflection, so carelessly shifting along the human flesh version of him as if mocking his fragile state…
He turns his back to the spotless rectangular mirror, takes the two steps that separates him from the nearest stall door, and grabs the edge of it with both hands. He grips the smooth synthetic material until his fingers turn white, his face imitates the strength by scrunching up, like maybe the tension put upon his features will help. Maybe it will erase the bad memories until they’re cured out of his mind, and he’ll be able to see things and experience them just for what they are, not what they remind him of.
He lets go of the stall door, allowing all his muscles to relax in one swift pull.
He takes a deep breath, a more linear one this time, just in time for two small kids to barge in through the main door screaming typical kid nonsense. One of them pushes past Namjoon to go straight into the stall he was just gripping like his life depended on it.
“Tommy! You can’t run away like that, young man!” A tall american-looking man says while panting into the room. Namjoon takes that as his cue.
He takes less than two minutes washing his hands and even less time rubbing indifferently cold water into his eyes. By the time he spares some seconds to fix his hair, he’s already planning an interesting topic to bring up in order to distract Seokjin from his obvious altered state. He puts on a closed-lip smile just for practice.
Close call, for now.
_____________
By the time they’re back in Independence park, the sky has gone a deep blue shade. The pigeons that terrorized the entire area during the afternoon are now hidden from plain sight, choosing to flee or rest in the heights of the many trees, ready to welcome them with little to no choice. Poor trees.
They are pacing through the interconnected cement paths with no real sense of direction or purpose, but to Namjoon those are the most crucial elements of any good walk.
Seokjin listens intently to his rant about the stupid caterpillar invasion in his balcony. Namjoon lets himself get a little too lost in it, to the point that it’s only when he’s done rambling that he notices, to his absolute embarrassment, that he misses the way he had seen Seokjin’s profile glow under the sunset’s intense warmth. It was nothing like the artificial indoor lights of the museum. It made him look like an actual marble statue, and Namjoon would bet his yearly salary that he wasn’t even aware of the effect it had on him. Delirious, if you asked him.
“I think I once heard my mom say that if you put tin foil at the base helps, I’m not sure why but I think it worked at the time” Seokjin says.
“Huh, yeah that makes sense. Thank you, Seokjin-hyung” The aforementioned gives him a small nod with a smile. “For the plant advice and…all of this as well.”
“Namjoon-ah, you don’t need to thank me”
“No but I want to, I don’t know if you know this but,” He pauses to gather his thoughts for a second. “I don’t normally do stuff like this, I’ve never been to the Seoul arts museum because it’s something that’s not in my comfort zone. But I ended up loving it, so really, thank you”
Even if his words are sincere, a hurdle in his throat makes his speech a little strained. He means everything he says, that’s something Namjoon usually prides himself in, but the words that come out of his mouth do so like an acting rehearsal. The worst part is that it fits so well and sounds so natural even to him; it would be the perfect performance. Him in an empty stage, wearing a character mask.
Speaking about that
“Oh hey! Have you heard anything about your audition yet?” Namjoon inquires, turning abruptly to Seokjin.
His face lights up even in the darkness of the incoming night, although that’s not something uncommon, Namjoon gets weak in the knees at the sight. It makes his evident excitement spread onto him as well.
“I haven’t, not yet” He admits, head looking down.
Namjoon tries not to feel a bit disappointed.
“But!” Seokjin starts again, a finger raised up in the air. “I ran into one of the guys I took my acting classes with and he told me that the casting directors talked nice things about me”
Namjoon opens his mouth, ready to sing his praises of course, but he gets interrupted in a heartbeat.
“I mean, I know it doesn’t guarantee anything and he could have lied or whatever but- I don’t know, I try not to get my hopes up just in case but I can’t help it because this time I feel like I really could get it, you know?”
Namjoon nods, it’s not like he ever got that close to theater or the performing arts as a whole, but he still recognises the sensation of feeling so close to achieving a major goal of his but having no guarantee of it yet.
“I know, it’s scary feeling optimistic…sometimes”
“Sometimes? I’d say all of the times” Seokjin scoffs, Namjoon shrugs. But neither of them break eye contact.
“I guess it depends” He squints his eyes, accompanied with a tilt of his head.
“I just…I don’t know. There’s times where I wish I could go ahead and do what I actually want without worrying about getting the rug pulled from beneath my feet in the process. I can audition all I want but if no one ever grants me the chance to perform a significant role, what then?”
He doesn’t look at Namjoon when he speaks, nor does he look ahead. He keeps his shoulders squared and pulled closer than normal, it creates a unique kind of isolation for both of them. He doesn’t want to invade Seokjin’s privacy, but at the same time a tug in his chest alerts him that it’s his duty to do something about how he’s feeling, to make it better. Not just because he gets mesmerized by his beauty whenever he sees joy in his face, something he got the chance to experience plenty of times today, but because he can see himself in Seokjin’s insecurities.
“Well, you’ll never know if you stop trying” He ends up saying.
Great job, Namjoon. He’s probably never heard that phrase before.
Nonetheless, Seokjin crinkles his eyes at him; an agreement of sorts.
“True” He nods.
Another stretch of silence traps them in as they keep walking, the big stone arch in the center of the park is now mere steps away.
Namjoon debates whether he should dig deeper inside his brain, come up with a different and more valuable insight. It’s not that he lacks the experience or critical thinking to help shift Seokjin’s perspective; it’s just that the thought of deconstructing his perception of him, which seems to be positive so far, fogs up his mind with a heavy headache. They have interacted a considerable amount of times by now, if counting the technological exchanges, and he’s been behaving properly. He almost prides himself in how smooth the whole thing is going so far, at least by his standards.
Namjoon just doesn’t have the strength to put that on the line.
“Thanks for coming with me, Namjoon-ah, I had a great time” Seokjin says, but it’s rushed and the smile he gives him doesn't reach his eyes.
Okay. He can do this. He can! There’s nothing tangible stopping him from toring his own torso and letting his heart bare in front of Seokjin, someone he’s only known for a few weeks now. But damn if those little interactions didn’t light up his days in a way he’s never seen possible before.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Are you o-”
“My family got me my job” He spits out at once.
“Uh…” Seokjin stares, stares with a tinge of how most people often do with him.
“They got me my job because I was too incompetent to do it myself” The stubborn moisture in his eyes makes the ground under his feet look like a pool of grey currents. “You should feel proud of yourself, hyung. Not a lot of people have the strength to put themselves out there, to really chase and work for what they love. You’re a fighter, and I don’t know if this means anything right now but I do believe you’ll get there”
“Namjoon-ah” Seokjin whispers, staring at him with big sinking eyes.
“I’m sorry, I’m always bringing up stuff about me. I didn’t mean to imply you have it easier or anything like that, of course not. I just wished you could see how much it actually matters that you do everything you do”
Seokjin stands there, in front of the mess that is Kim Namjoon right now. He’s not crying, thank god, but his eyes are puffy and the skin below them is just wet enough for the light poles around them to bring out a reflection on his tears.
He closes his eyes. Seokjin is going to bolt off at any moment, and he will have to swallow it down, accept his failure and go through another phase of grieving whatever relationship this could have developed into.
But then, after what feels like an eternity, a hand is placed on his shoulder. He reluctantly opens his eyes.
Seokjin is still standing there. He gives Namjoon time to catch his breath without saying a word, but his soft palm feels solid on top of the fabric of his shirt. And his face is like a lullaby that lures him back to calmness, his features just have this particular gentle quality that is straight up peaceful, a charm.
“Hey, thank you for telling me that, I appreciate it a lot. But Namjoon-ssi, you’re not less than any other creative person out there. I need you to know that, okay?”
Namjoon doesn’t speak, he just nods, because what else is he supposed to do?
Seokjin squeezes his shoulder one last time before letting go with a neutral smile.
“I’m sorry, I really did have a wonderful time with you today. I didn’t mean to end this up in tears” He laughs, embarrassed.
Seokjin smiles, and is a warm and secure one.
“Me too. Don’t tell Tae but I had more fun today than when he drags me to his photography conventions” He makes an apologetic face. Namjoon laughs again, more genuinely this time.
“Your secret is safe with me”
“It better be” He jokingly points an accusatory finger at him; and when they smile at each other it’s like Namjoon can hear her voice warning him.
‘Namjoon-ah, be careful. You barely know him, what if he is just playing with you? Don’t let him get to you so easily.’
“I should get going, um, I promised to cook dinner for my roommates” Seokjin finally breaks the spell, not carelessly though.
“Of course, hyung. Text me when you get home?” Seokjin nods.
“You too. Thanks for today, Namjoon-ah” He flashes his prince-charming smile and turns to walk towards the bus station.
Namjoon thinks for a second: what if he were to take a risk? What if he called Seokjin’s name and made him turn around and just wrap him up in his arms? Feel him close, pour out his feelings into something real…maybe even ki-
He walks towards the bike stand, the only one left there is his. And it isn’t until he enters his apartment, a small theater booklet digging into his butt when he slumps on the familiar armchair, that he can make some sense of all his thoughts.
He likes Seokjin, and this time he’s willing to go for him.