Chapter Text
You ran your hands through your hair and straightened your back, freeing it from the hunched position it had held for two hours as you poured over the book in front of you and scribbled hurried notes. You stretched your hands over your head and arched your back, letting out a grunt of mixed pain and pleasure as its tight muscles moved and its joints cracked.
Looking around, you were glad to see that your little café had about half a dozen patrons perched in chairs and reading books, some of which they’d taken from the bookcases that covered every inch of available wall space and some they’d brought with them. It was a bit before ten o’clock at night, so that was pretty good; the café tended to have a slow but steady influx of patrons. You weren’t raking in cash, but you were making enough to get by and pay your employees, which was all you really cared about.
You stood and slid over to the ordering counter, greeting the barista and your best friend in Seoul, Min Hee, with a grin. Although you were American, you spoke to her in fluent Korean.
“Caffeine me?”
“You can’t have caffeine,” Min Hee said, using her mother hen voice. “But I’ll get you a decaf.” You could always depend on Min Hee to make sure that you stayed in line, but geez. You missed caffeine.
“It’s been three and a half years since my last caffeinated anything. I hit the halfway mark in the book today! Can’t I celebrate?”
“Not that way,” Min Hee said, calmly putting together your favorite coffee with the stuff from the decaf pot. “Nice try though. And congrats on getting halfway through!”
You rolled your eyes and accepted the cup she slid across the counter, glad for the warmth that seeped into your fingers as you grabbed it.
“Why do I keep it so dang cold in here?”
“Because if you’re warm, you’d have no customers. This would be a sauna, not a café,” Min Hee answered, grinning and hooking her finger towards the door in the back. “You can go upstairs and grab another jacket.”
You pulled out your phone and glanced at the time: 9:57pm. “It’s time for me to go outside and meet him, anyway, so I’ll pick up a jacket before I come back.”
“Oh, crap, yeah. That’s tonight! I can’t believe we’re going to have--” she paused and lowered her voice from an already-quiet murmur to a whisper before continuing. “Kim Namjoon in our café!”
Min Hee looked like she was about to have a squeal attack, so you cut her off before she could start. “Don’t say anything unless he brings it up. The poor guy just wants a place he can sit quietly, and I’m not gonna be the person to take it from him. He’s here because Seokjin trusts me – and thus you, too – not to cause a scene. Just be nice. Treat him like a normal person. Don’t be creepy.”
“Killjoy.”
“Says the woman who won’t give me caffeine.” You shot her a playful glare before spinning on your heel and slipping out the door of the café and into the warm summer night, heading to the side alley where you’d told Seokjin you could meet Namjoon.
The alleyway you slipped into was clean and well-lit, as it was the only way to get into your apartment without going through the café, but was removed from the street traffic; no one was interested in walking back here. So when you saw a man leaning against the wall of the building with a hoodie pulled over his head and a mask on his face, you were confident enough to address him by name without seeing his face.
“Kim Namjoon? I’m (y/n), Seokjin’s friend who owns the café.”
Namjoon pulled the mask off his face and you each bowed politely. “It’s nice to meet you. Seokjin speaks highly of you.”
You laughed a bit. “I’m sure he does. Mostly because I enjoy his puns.” That earned a light chuckle from Namjoon, too, but you figured it was time to get out of the alleyway, so you moved into business mode. You started walking towards a set of narrow metal stairs that crawled along the side of the building, leading to a door on the second floor. “So, this is how you’ll get into the café without having to use the front door. I’m sure that half the time that getup attracts nearly as much attention than it diverts, so this way you can slip in with no one seeing you. That door leads to my apartment above the café. If you’ll follow me up, I’ll show you how to get to the café.”
Namjoon nodded and began following you up the stairs. A couple of steps up, he asked, “How did you meet Jin, anyway? He’s never told me – I just know the two of you hang out when he has time. You’re one of his only non-celebrity friends.”
Once again, you laughed. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but Seokjin’s cousin was my language exchange partner when I started taking Korean classes at Seoul University. We became friends pretty quickly, and she knew I was into Kpop, so she got the two of us front-row tickets to one of your concerts. Afterwards she introduced me to Seokjin, by her own admission in an attempt to get us to date. Unfortunately for her, he ended up being more like a brother to me than anything else. She was right that we’d hit it off, though.”
“Aaah, I didn’t realize you were initially set up,” Namjoon released a soft, deep chuckle as you reached the top of the stairs.
“Yeah, he won’t let it go, either. Keeps telling me what a deal I’ve passed up, but that it’s probably for the best. Between working with you and living with me he’d either die or all of his stuff would be broken.”
“Clumsy, too?”
“Oh yes. I break everything. I once sprained both of my ankles at the same time.” Laughing with Namjoon at the ridiculousness of that particular feat, you pulled a key from your pocket, slid it into the lock, and paused before swinging the door open. “I’m going to warn you, I have a very big dog and a cat. Both are love bugs and neither will hurt you, but I know that a lot of Korean people are scared of big dogs, so I figured I’d give you fair warning.” Once you got a sign of acknowledgement from Namjoon, you swung the door open, flicked the light on and were immediately greeted by a massive dog, panting excitedly at your arrival. “Hi, Aslan, I’m home!” You began scratching his head and backed him up so Namjoon could squeeze through the door, gawking at the gray-and-black speckled Great Dane in front of him.
“You named your dog Aslan? As in the lion from Narnia?”
“Of course! And since C.S. Lewis and Tolkien go together so well, my cat’s name is Beorn.”
“That’s from The Hobbit, right?” Namjoon asked, finding the perfect scratching spot on Aslan’s side and staggering a bit as the dog leaned against him.
“Oooh, you know your Tolkien.”
“Of course – they’re classics, reading them is almost a requirement. No offense, but how does someone so tiny have such a massive dog? Aren’t you something like five feet tall?”
“I’m five feet one inch, actually,” you corrected with a tentatively sly grin. “And Great Danes are really affectionate dogs, so it’s not like they’re dangerous. They think they’re the size of a Chihuahua, though, so I just had to go to obedience classes to avoid worrying about him knocking people over or dragging me around when I take him to the park. I actually let him come down to the cafe with me sometimes.”
Aslan attempted to thank Namjoon for the scratches by lifting his massive head as close to Namjoon’s face as possible and trying to lick him. His tail whipped through the air with the force only a massive dog can muster – getting hit with that thing hurt. While Aslan did you the favor of distracting Namjoon, you did a quick mental check to make sure you’d removed all signs of your disability from the living room.
You’d asked Jin not to say anything about that particular aspect of your life – it felt very personal, and you’d always hated the idea that someone’s first impression of you would be “that disabled girl,” or that the first emotion they’d feel towards you would be pity. You didn’t know if you’d ever get close enough to Kim Namjoon to share that aspect of your life with him, but you certainly didn’t want it to be his first impression of you. You didn’t want any well-intentioned comments like, “Wow, how amazing of you to be running a café when you’re so sick!” It wasn’t inspiring, it was your life. You did it because you had to, just like they went to work every day because they had to. Besides, you were going to be as mobile and as active as your disability allowed. You didn’t deserve praise for moving on with your life, or for doing the best you could with what you’d been given.
A quick glance around the open-concept living room and kitchen, however, proved that you had remembered everything. Pill bottles were tucked away, your cane – only needed on very bad days – had been exiled to your closet, and your shower chair was set up in the shower room; it was a more traditional Korean setup, so even if Namjoon had to come up and use your toilet, he’d never have to look in the shower since it was an entirely separate room.
A quiet meow announced the arrival of Beorn, clearly drawn to the living room by Aslan’s commotion and the sound of voices. Born to a feral mother but rescued at only a few weeks old, he’d been bottle fed and was thus always craving human attention. The instant you sat down, he was always in your lap, purring like a motor boat. You gave him a quick chin scratch in greeting before trying to tune out the distractions and get back on task.
“Okay, this is your key,” you said, handing Namjoon the key you’d used to unlock the door. “That way I don’t have to come let you in every time you want to come to relax. If you lose it, Jin has one too, for movie night purposes, so you can just ask him for his copy. Just shoot me a text when you decide to head over, so I’m expecting you.”
“Thanks,” Namjoon murmured, taking the key politely.
You pointed down the hallway that led to your bedroom, bathroom, and shower room. “The bathroom is the first door on the left; if you ever need to use the restroom while you’re here, you’re free to use that. You don’t have to ask, just head on up. The door that leads to the café is right here,” you added, pointing in the other direction to a proper entry-way with a shoe closet and automatic light. “It’s a flight of stairs that takes you to another door, and behind that is the café.”
You shuffled over to the door and opened it, Namjoon following just behind you. As you were about to make your way down the stairs, you noticed him getting ready to put his mask back on. “No one will be able to see you from the door. The ordering counter creates a bit of what I like to call the Introvert Corner; there are two tables that offer you sightlines of most of the restaurant, but from which you’re completely invisible to everyone except the person at the other introvert table -
which is me - and the barista, if she turns around.” You opened the door and led him out, showing him the first table, which was right next to the door. “I figured this one would be best for you if you wanted to go upstairs quickly without having to walk too far. The baristas know you’ll be here, and they know not to say anything. One is my best friend, the other a part-timer I know very well. Neither will say anything. I sit at the other table nearly every day, and most people don’t know these seats are here, so you shouldn’t have a problem with any of the other patrons.”
“Wow, this is perfect,” Namjoon said, giving you a grateful smile.
“Well, it worked out well. I set it up this way so I could write without getting disturbed, initially.”
“You write?” You could feel the strain of standing so long, especially at night when your energy was already drained – you had begun to sweat and could feel your heart beating too fast in your chest, and felt a little out of breath, so you slid into one of the chairs at the table and motioned for him to do the same, trying to pass it off as natural rather than awkward. You had become practiced at seeming like you felt fine when you actually really didn’t, but you had never quite figured out how to make sitting at random times seem normal.
“Yeah, I want to be an author. I’m working on my first book now. I also do freelance editing on the side, to help supplement the income from here.”
“That’s great.” Namjoon seemed to genuinely mean it; usually when you told people you wanted to be a writer, their response was similar but twinged with condescension or disappointment, like they thought you were capable of so much more and it was a pity you were wasting your talents on an impossible dream – talent or not.
“Thanks. I know I probably won’t be able to make a living on it – after all, there aren’t many J.K. Rowlings or George R.R. Martins – but I love writing, and if some people can enjoy it and get something from it, I’ll be satisfied.”
“My parents didn’t think I could make a living with music, but I succeeded. A little bit of talent and a lot of hard work can go a long way.”
“True.” You smiled at him before returning your attention to the task at hand. “I’ll give you a quick run-down of the way the café works. You see all the books here?” Every available bit of wall space was taken up by floor-to-ceiling bookcases, each filled to the brim with books. Namjoon’s eyes got just a bit bigger when he noticed them. “I’ve set this up kind of like a library slash bookstore. You’re free to read any of the books you want while you’re here, and if there’s something you want to take home with you, you take it up to the counter and we’ll enter it in our ledger. You’re limited to three books at a time, except for friends, just to limit people losing books or accruing late fees because they’ve bitten off more than they can chew. It’s $1 per book to rent; you get two weeks with the book, then you have to return it or extend your time with it. We do fees if you’re late, just like an actual library, and charge money for lost books. I also sell and buy some books, but not quite so often as I lend them out. But you can come directly to me if you want to take something home. I’ll write it down and you’ll be good to go – and you can take more than one at a time and keep them as long as you need.”
“That sounds like an amazing setup.”
“Thanks. It works out okay for the most part. We have a few really loyal patrons, so we don’t end up with a lot of lost books. A few people get upset over late fees, but rules are rules.” You shrugged, hoping your slight blush at the compliment wasn’t obvious, and then once again found your way back on task, not wanting to keep him. “A few more things before I set you free! You can either text me your order or tell me after you get here – like I said, I’m normally at the table directly across from this one, over there – and I’ll make sure it’s taken care of so you don’t have to go around the counter. Seokjin already gave me your number earlier just in case we needed to adjust meeting times, so I assume he gave you mine, too?”
“Yeah, he did,” Namjoon said, seeming a bit embarrassed. It was so strange to see a man you were used to seeing as charismatic and downright sexy on TV and music videos this way, but you knew that who you saw onstage was Rap Monster – a variation of Kim Namjoon, but one that was calculated to please and attract, intended to be bold and outgoing.
“Great,” you smiled, a bit shy and unsure yourself. You weren’t used to taking the helm on conversations at first, although you could do it without a problem. You’d always been the quiet, shy type until you got used to someone – and then those unlucky few usually wished you’d stop talking. You had plenty to talk about as long as you were focusing on business, but you didn’t know what you’d do once you were expected to talk to him on a regular basis. You didn’t want to discourage him talking to you, though – he was Seokjin’s friend and bandmate (not to mention, you had to admit, really, really attractive both as far as his physical attributes and intellectual abilities went), so you wanted him to feel welcome. “Don’t hesitate to come up to me and ask me something or talk. If I’m particularly engrossed in what I’m doing you might have to wave your hand in front of my face or poke me to get my attention, but I promise that’s not me ignoring you.”
“Noted,” Namjoon said with a grin.
“Okay, one last thing and I’ll leave you alone to head home or do some reading,” you said. You pointed to a curtain hanging on the wall on the other side of the café, directly behind your introvert corner. There were a few steps up and it was clear that the curtains were concealing some sort of sitting area; the sign next to it read Owner Only. “That is where I go if it’s too loud or I’m not feeling particularly well that day but still want to be out in the café. It was a little room, but I converted it into a booth, like at a restaurant, except the seats are very cushy and there’s room to lay down, plus pillows, and there are some more built-in bookcases there. If I’m not out here and not in my apartment, that’s probably where I am. There’s more than enough room for you in there, too, so if there’s too many people in here for you or you’re uncomfortable in any way, you’re welcome to sit in there, too.”
“Wow, thank you. It’s so kind of you to allow me to impose on your privacy like this, coming in through your house and using your quiet places.”
“Nah,” you said, waving him off in a friendly way. “I realize that y’all don’t get a whole lot of privacy, but you sure deserve whatever privacy you can get. So I’m doing my bit to offer you some. I offered this deal to Seokjin earlier, but sitting and reading or writing in a café isn’t his thing, so he’s only taken me up on it a few times. Usually he just comes and watches movies or plays games in my apartment with me. But when I made the offer he thought of you, and wanted to know if I’d extend it to you. Which obviously I did! Seokjin thinks very highly of you, so I’m happy to do whatever I can to help. Let me know if there’s anything else I can offer you, as well, to make you more comfortable.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but it’s really no big deal. Jin probably pays me in more than enough food, anyway.”
Namjoon chuckled again. “He does enjoy feeding people, so you’re probably doing him another kindness there.”
“Well, he saves me the effort of cooking, so there’s a mutual benefit.”
“Hmm, maybe.”
“Anyway,” you said, standing up and attempting to make eye contact through the kaleidoscope of colors that always appeared when you stood up too fast, “I’ll let you read or head on home or whatever you need to do.”
“We have an early schedule, so I’ll go ahead and head out, but I’m planning on making myself a regular here,” Namjoon said the last bit in a way that made your heart skip a beat – and this time not because it objected to being vertical. Ugh, get a hold of yourself, he just wants access to somewhere quiet. Stupid hormones.
Namjoon smiled and stood as well, and you managed to gather your scattered thoughts in time to bow to him before he turned to walk back up the stairs. The instant he was out of sight, Min Hee shuffled over to you and let out a giant squeal.
“You just talked to Kim Namjoon. What did you do in your past life, you jerk??”
You grinned, a little giddy yourself, if you were honest -- not so much because of his celebrity status, but because he was the absolute hottest human being you had ever talked to.
“If this were a fanfiction,” Min Hee started, eyes getting huge, “You’d marry him.”
“Well, lucky for him, it’s not!”
“Lucky? He’d be stupid not to be interested -- and the epitome of unlucky if you weren’t!”
“That’s your bias talking, Min Hee,” you muttered, only half-jokingly. “I’m twenty-four and my body is falling apart, so he’d be smart to move right along. He probably will, when it inevitably comes up -- assuming he’d even be interested otherwise.”
Min Hee gave you a stern look, one that said, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What? It’s happened before.”
“Not every guy is as much of a dick as Jason. That man didn’t deserve you anyway if he was gonna drop you over that. It’s not even like you can help it.”
“Talking about it is pointless. He’s a celebrity, I’m a short, sick chick from small-town America. I doubt he’ll be interested.” With that, you shuffled back to your seat, leaving Min Hee to head back behind the counter with one last, pointed sigh of frustration.