Chapter Text
The rain starts on a Tuesday.
It begins with a brief hint of clouds in an overcast sky, and eventually the crescendo of water hitting the world is all anyone can hear.
Seokjin waits from Monday through Friday.
He's been waiting for the rain, and now that it's begun, he waits for it to end. He's a patient man. Some days he waits for the usual delivery man to drop off the week's worth of supplies, other days he waits for that stray cat that paws at the counter for leftover scraps of crab and fish.
But mostly, Seokjin waits for a customer.
He sets up his small stall everyday at four in the afternoon. He arranges all the bowls and all the ingredients where they're meant to be. He dusts the stools and pats at the large curtain with the word 'Lotus' printed in the front. Seokjin's grandmother had always wagged her bony finger at his face and reiterated the importance of the Lotus blossom to their family and so, keeping in with tradition, he had opened his ramen shop under their prized flower's name.
Seokjin had a knack for cooking. It wasn’t exactly the kind of knack that led you to start up your own restaurants and such, but his father was the one that insisted that he do whatever he wanted as long as he carried on with the family business. This is why once Seokjin finishes sorting out his basic menu for the day, he pulls out a fairly large rack and places it right on top of the counter, just beside his usual standing spot. The rack is filled with carefully crafted amulets and charms, Omamori as his grandmother would correct in her reedy voice, the Japanese word flowing smooth off her native tongue very much unlike her awkward Korean.
The standard group of kids on their way back from school will stop by, making a purchase or two for the talismans aimed at granting them help for their exam seasons. Occasionally in the evening, mothers and lonely girlfriends will come and buy a love charm, whether for their significant other or family.
Seokjin will always explain his wares with a charming smile on his face, sometimes even providing a suggestion or two. When he wraps the selected charm in colored tissue paper, he always asks them if they'd like to eat something.
They rarely say yes.
When the night falls, more men will stagger towards his shop and fall onto the stools, quietly asking for a drink. Seokjin will fill up a glass and slide it over to them, offering a small courteous smile that is ignored in favor of the liquid burning its way down their throats.
Eventually they will trickle away just before a bleak sun hits the horizon, leaving Seokjin on his own again; waiting for something he's not entirely sure of.
♢ ✴ ♢
Monday is when Seokjin notices a significant increase in people. The steady throng of people shuffling back and forth the street his shop overlooked swarmed the area. It wasn't hard to think of them as something like sardines, traveling in packs to protect themselves from predators, synchronizing their movements to perfection to accomplish the utter mundanity of their everyday lives.
What if Seokjin joined the horde? What if he too donned a grey suit that didn't fit him every morning and carried his world in a worn out brown briefcase by his side?
Solitary fish weed out their meals alone, striking stealthily at their own pace.
Seokjin finds that he isn't very much like a hunter at all.
Maybe he isn't a fish to begin with.
Maybe he's a lone creature of his own design, watching the world from above the surface.
There was no better way to describe how he felt watching the everyday people like sardines live their lives completely in sync with everyone but him.
Monday is only slightly different from the rest.
♢ ✴ ♢
It's hard to not miss this particular stranger in the crowd.
Tall.
That's the first thing that Seokjin registers in his mind when he sees the man meandering his way through the mass of bodies. A height that rivaled Seokjin's, and he had always prided himself on being taller than most. Then there was his hair, the color of silver linings piercing through clouds. Taking the weather lately into consideration, it's a fitting shade. But within a flash, he disappears into the crowd once more and once out of sight, he is out of Seokjin's mind.
The evening creeps by slowly, the lateness of the night amplified by the stillness of the gutters struck against vermilion neon lights.
Seokjin had lit the paper lanterns that hang above his shop a while ago, a beacon to the other lonely wanderers of the night. He absentmindedly ties up a few charms with decorative red thread, stringing together pastel bags embellished with small Cherry Blossoms and gold characters.
When the footsteps ring out on the asphalt, it's almost as if Seokjin expected the stranger he'd caught a glance at earlier to be there.
Now, on a street void of the hustle and bustle of pedestrians, the man is on full display. His hair catches in the arcane lights, bathing his face in a glow that seems to hide more than reveal.
A long camouflage coat hung off his lean frame and it shimmered from leftover rain drops that clung to every step he took.
There was something so unassuming about this man, the kind where your mind doesn't immediately recognize how captivating that vague slope of a lip could be, or that faint glint of a ring as his hand reaches up to rub at his nose.
But the stranger was gone just as swiftly as his restrained appeal had burrowed its way into Seokjin's chest on an unaffected Tuesday night.
♢ ✴ ♢
It happens once more.
That quick fire sighting of a tall, nameless figure in the midst of the white and blue collar workers going about their day. And then he leaves the opposite way well after midnight.
And then it happens again. And again. And again.
It happens until Seokjin realizes, with a muted excitement, that he'd learnt a fragment of this unknown man's routine.
Five fifty in the evening is usually when he ventures deeper into the crowded lanes of Downtown and three in the morning is when he emerges from whichever dark, dark hole he found himself in for hours at a time.
Eventually Seokjin had managed to piece together an idea of his face from those brief glances in his direction, straight brows usually knitted together above a small nose, plump lips that were chapped and pink under the occasional evening sunlight on a clearer day.
Perhaps it was a bit inappropriate to obsessively hold on to the brief appearances of man going about his life, but it was perfectly harmless for Seokjin to have his little secret: a man with silver hair and the same grey and green camouflage coat day in and day out.
Seokjin's musings were offset by his private orchestra of rain slapping the ground and the roof that sheltered the stools that lay in a row by the counter, openly holding out an invitation that the scent of simmering soup couldn't reach. As the rain grew in velocity, fewer people would leave the comfort of a roof over their heads to brave the watershed.
On a day that began with parted clouds and a sliver of sunlight, it rained down harder than ever, the aggressive pitter patter complemented by a rumbling roar of thunder.
As per usual, Seokjin waited at his shop, bundled up in thick sweaters while he warmed his hands by preparing some tonkotsu broth for, well, just in case.
The street was deserted save for Seokjin, his boiling broth and the usual white stray cat lazily lounging beside his folded arms at the counter, staring blankly at the flooded pavements ahead while sharing as much warmth as possible.
Seokjin hadn't checked his watch but if he did he would've seen the minute hand slowly cross over to the 12 while the hour hand firmly inches atop the 6. If he glanced at his wrist, he would've expected the tall man to come barreling to the shelter provided by the small roof of his shop lined with paper lanterns that held on to their strings in spite of the harsh weather.
Dazed, Seokjin watches the stranger catch his breath. The cat raises his head briefly before deeming the newcomer unimportant and nuzzling back into the warmth of Seokjin's elbow.
"Just when you think the weather was gonna get better, huh?"
It doesn't immediately hit him that that was what the stranger sounded like. A deep, resonant tone like the bass that underlines a song.
"Huh- oh uhm, yeah. It's, uh, it's pretty crazy."
"You got that right." He pulls down the hood of his coat to brush any drops of water that might've caught onto the strands of his hair and Seokjin stares after with rapt fascination. It felt strangely similar to meeting your idol in real life. What if they were everything you imagined and more? Or what if they were nothing like they seemed, and what if it shattered all your expectations. So far, Seokjin's stranger had yet to do anything to prove the latter possibility so hopefully he was in the clear.
A phone starts to ring and the stranger reaches into one of the side pockets of his open coat to pull out his phone, immediately answering it once he checks the caller ID.
"Please don't tell me it's cancelled today, man, it can't be." He says, agitatedly drumming his fingers on the worn faux leather of the stool beside him. "I can't afford to go back empty."
It wasn't in Seokjin's nature to eavesdrop, he'd grew up learning to respect the secrets of the people around him, be it concealed or laid out in the open. He didn't mean to listen in, and he really didn't. He just heard whatever snippets he could from the one sided conversation, and the distressed snippets he'd caught from his stranger pained him greatly. It was odd how much this affected him, but he'd invested so much of himself in those brief sightings that he considered the stranger blessing him with his presence a kindness in itself.
It was completely impulsive. An unthinking move made spontaneously in an effort to add some sort of color to this grey man's world. Or at least that's what he convinced himself he was doing.
He grabbed a charm off the rickety rack that stood on the far right of the wooden counter, the red one with golden thread embroidered to spell the character for 'Luck' in Japanese. He folds it lightly in on itself and as subtly as he could, reaches forward to tuck the charm into the stranger's pocket, left slightly open after receiving his phone from it.
In all honesty, it was a stupid idea, one that could've easily backfired on him but maybe holding a charm for luck gave him just a little more than dumb confidence and he managed to do it somehow.
The white cat looks disgruntled at the sudden change in position but Seokjin could swear he saw the animal fix him an incredulous stare that mirrored the one his inner rationality was giving him.
The phone call ends with the stranger sighing loudly and tucking his phone back into his pocket, completely unsuspecting of what took place just behind him.
"Why are you still out here?"
Seokjin was too busy celebrating his little victory to hear what his stranger asked him.
"Pardon?"
"Why don't you just go home and get out of the rain?" He turns a little to stare at Seokjin with startlingly intense eyes, hooded but an intelligent glint shone that no Vermillion neon could compete with. "It's not like you're gonna get any customers with this storm, you're better off not wasting your time out here."
Seokjin takes a moment to remind himself of the answer. "I wouldn't have anything else to do. I guess being out here is a little less lonely than home."
The stranger doesn't say anything, instead nodding like he knew exactly what Seokjin was talking about before shrugging his hood back and stalking off in the wrong direction at the wrong time of the day.
Seokjin's idea of the routine is disrupted but he finds that he doesn't mind.
♢ ✴ ♢
Usually, the effectiveness of the Omamori is subjective.
In Japan, they're sold near temples where they're blessed by the patron Gods and Spirits and once a year is up, they're returned back to the temple to be disposed of in a sacred fire.
They're as good as pocket prayers, either they work or you believe they do.
But there was something about Seokjin's family, or more specifically his grandmother, that allowed the charms to be blessed by hands of mortals. They could harness whatever unknown power they possessed into Lotus blossoms that they'd infuse into the pouches and amulets, and suddenly the buyer gets a promotion at work, or aces their final examinations, or finds a semblance of love in a hopeless place.
You'd think Seokjin's little shop would be more popular what with the real magic imbedded in a small stand and the sheer sense of home in the hot udon, but no.
Innocuous is as innocuous does and Seokjin's clientele will never know of the pure power cultivated in their little keychains and the food they decline.
The point is, it came of no surprise to Seokjin when he started seeing his stranger much more frequently, a more optimistic skip to his gait. Seokjin smiles to himself as he strokes behind the ear of the white cat, he was incredibly satisfied with himself that he might've had a hand in making his stranger's life just a bit better.
What does come as surprise to him, though, is when on one hushed Wednesday evening, his stranger doesn't stride across the street like Seokjin is so used to. Instead, he takes purposeful steps right at Seokjin who in turn takes a step back, almost toppling over a precarious pile of carrots and spring onion.
"Hi." The curt greeting renders Seokjin flustered and he makes a strangled sound in return.
His stranger quickly rifles through his pockets before pulling out a red pouch Seokjin is very, very accustomed with.
"This is yours, isn't it? One of your little lucky charms?"
Seokjin clears his throat as an excuse to stall for time before he had to shamefully admit to his stupid stunt. But as soon as he works up his last remaining courage, his stranger speaks up again.
"I don't usually believe in shit like this but goddamn, I think it worked like a dream." His mouths twists into a playful smile as he chuckles, and Seokjin finds that the dimples that indent into his smooth cheeks leaves him breathless.
"Were you lucky?"
"Is that what it was for?" His thumb gently slides over the intricate stitching.
"Yes, it says fuku on the front, Japanese for luck." Seokjin fiddles with a loose thread on the hem of his apron, unable to face his stranger for longer than short glances.
His stranger smirks wryly. "Well, I'd say I was extremely lucky then."
A silent pause falls over them. Seokjin is sure that this is the moment they'd take to finally part ways, he was used to recognizing these pauses. But the stranger sits down and carefully lays down the charm.
"Thank you for this. I don't know if I accidentally might've stolen it or if you gave it me but whatever, don't look a prize horse in the mouth and all that, y'know? You can have it back, by the way, if you need it."
"No!" Seokjin says all too quickly. "I mean, I was going to throw a couple of them out anyway so you can hold on to this one. Maybe squeeze out a week or two's worth of luck."
"Oh, for real?"
Seokjin nods firmly.
"Thank you! I'll take extra good care of it then."
"Ah you don't need to worry about that, it's customary for Omamori to look worn out or damaged, it shows that the talisman has caught all the harm that was meant to affect you, thus proving its protection abilities."
"Oh, ain't that neat?"
"Hah, I guess you could call it that. Would you like a drink?"
"A drink? It's a little early for that," he eyes Seokjin's watch, tilting his head to see it better. "It's only four thirty-ish."
Seokjin makes a non-committal noise. "It's five o'clock somewhere."
The stranger barks out a guffaw. "Can't argue with that logic. Gimme a pint of beer. Wait no, what do you like?"
"I don't really drink."
"But if you had to choose?"
Seokjin chews on his lower lip for a moment. "I guess beer is fine. I like Hite."
"Mm, a man of good taste, alright, two pints ofHite then. And, hm, what's the ramen special for today?"
Seokjin abruptly freezes from where he was reaching for the glasses.
"You- you want the ramen?"
"I mean, this is a ramen shop, right? It'd be kind of dumb to not buy any. Plus, it always smells good every time I pass by."
Seokjin lets out a disbelieving chuckle and can't help the wide grin that takes over face before he turns to switch on the gas, completely missing the fond look his stranger gives him.
"It's Miso ramen for today," he glances back at his stranger twiddling his thumbs aimlessly. "Would you like me to make it spicy for you?"
"Heck yeah, this unrelenting rain will be the death of my sinuses. I don't know how you stay out here without becoming a popsicle!"
He chuckles. "It's not too bad, more often than not it's quite cozy here."
"Still, kudos to you, man."
While the broth begins to boil over, Seokjin retrieves a can of the lager from the mini fridge he keeps below the counter and nudges them to his stranger who takes one and holds it out.
"This one's for you."
"But I can't-"
"C'mon, you gave me luck, the least I could do is offer you a beer. If you don't accept this, I'm going to keep coming down here and ordering ramen and annoying you."
Seokjin smiles, not telling him how much of a dream that would be, and takes the chilled glass from his hands, ignoring the brief contact between their clammy fingers.
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
They clink glasses and quietly sip at the pale yellow drink.
Seokjin goes back to preparing the dish and finishes quickly since most of it had already been ready, just waiting for anybody to want to want it.
"Here you go," Seokjin slides a bowl of the steaming ramen over to his stranger, placing a pair of disposable chopsticks on the side.
He watches him dig in heartily and savors the absolute bliss on his face because it's been so long since he's gotten to let someone, anyone, try his cooking.
"This is so good, oh my god. I haven't had ramen this good in- shit, I don't think I've ever had ramen this good! What's your secret? No, don't tell me, keep your magician tricks up your sleeves." He manages to say in between slurps.
Seokjin just laughs at his words, not knowing how to answer the blabber. He checks his watch.
"Oh no, it's past five! Shouldn't you be going now?"
He picks at a piece of beef in his bowl. "Huh, oh, right, right. Nah, thanks to you I can afford to skip out a few sessions."
"Oh. Oh, that's good then."
A sly smirk forms on his stranger's face. "So you really pay attention to my schedule and everything, huh?"
"No! Not- not like, I don't! I just, you know, I see you around a lot, like a lot and it's not hard to just, you know-"
His stranger laughs good-naturedly, it's a sound that somehow still as deep as his voice with slight breaks of high pitched wheezes. "It's fine, it's fine, don't worry, I don't mind. I suppose It's nice to know that at least somebody cares."
Seokjin relaxes and takes a sip of beer to calm himself down.
The rest of his stranger's meal goes by in a comfortable silence that needs no words of reassurance from either party, both a comforting presence to the other.
His stranger doesn't leave past 12 this time, just a little after seven. But still, those two or so hours were spent talking to Seokjin, of all people. There was no word to describe the immense satisfaction that Seokjin had felt when his stranger laughed at a quip he'd made, or the immense disappointment when his stranger had stood up and pulled out a few notes to pay for his meal.
But Seokjin couldn't be selfish. He would take what he could get, and this one evening was worth a hundred ones spent in the biting rain.
♢ ✴ ♢
Seokjin only opens shop at 5 o'clock the next day.
Despite that tenacious eagerness about seeing his stranger again, he still had to maintain his careful little shop, which meant spending a whole extra hour at the cramped marketplace arguing with a woman old enough to be his mother about the freshness of the Mackerel which he'd eventually conceded to and dejectedly watched her wrap the fish in plastic and newspaper. When he'd finally made his way back to his quiet haven at the end of the street, his stranger was nowhere to be seen which was pretty understandable considering how late Seokjin was this evening.
The rain had finally begun to wane slightly, encouraging more pedestrians to venture out to his corner in the dingy downtown lanes of Seoul. But Seokjin knew the downpour better than the wide grinned weatherman on the news, this wasn't the end of the monsoon, it was an interlude.
He stirs at his simmering pot absentmindedly, only barely remembering to add in the washed sprouts and diced shiitake. It wasn't even close to midnight. If he'd wanted to catch a glimpse of his stranger tonight, time was clearly not kind to him. The hours inched by at an achingly slow pace, Seokjin's only reprieves from his ticking thoughts being the occasional person eying the Omamori on display.
"Are you always here so late?"
Seokjin looks up with bleary eyes, what time was it? Somehow he'd lost track of time and dozed off into a light nap. He blinks to clear his eyes and sees his stranger looking at him curiously. He can't help the small, albeit abashed smile that hits his face.
"Most of the time, yeah."
His stranger nods along and slides into the stool opposite to Seokjin.
"So what's on the menu tonight? I didn't see you on my way in earlier today, I thought you'd finally taken a break."
Seokjin chuckles as he stifles a yawn. "I was just busy with some stuff, groceries and all; speaking of which, today's special is Miso soup with smoked Mackerel. Would you like some?" He adds hesitantly.
"I'm not a big fan of fish really, but after last night, I'm willing to bet that it's going to be delicious so yes, one bowl please!"
Seokjin does his best to conceal his glee at hearing his words and turns back to the pot of ramen ready to be heated and served.
'Oh hey," his stranger calls out when he's chopping some spring onion for the garnish. "I just realized that I don't know your name. I'm Namjoon, by the way."
And now his stranger had a name! Seokjin sets down his knife and quickly wipes his hands on his apron.
"I'm Seokjin. It's nice to properly meet you, Namjoon," he enjoys the way he gets to enunciate Namjoon's name. The way his lips get to roll around the syllables. He holds out his hand which Namjoon promptly takes in his own and shakes firmly.
Soon he's sliding the bowl of ramen towards Namjoon (he's still very giddy about having learnt his name and fully intends to say it to himself as much as possible) who takes it with a content smile.
"This smells insane! Man, how do you do it?" He hums, splitting his disposable chopsticks
"Sold my soul to the devil and all that jazz," Seokjin waves him off nonchalantly.
He really is starting to love hearing Namjoon's laugh, he wishes he was a funnier person instead of the socially awkward one he was currently.
"You know I was-"
"Excuse me, is this the lucky charm shop?"
Seokjin watches a middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform step closer to the counter cautiously, clutching her purse in manicured hands.
"Um, yes? I mean, yes! I sell the charms, yes." There goes his chance at being eloquent in front of Namjoon. Seokjin gestures at the rack on the end of the counter, several spaces left from Omamoris sold earlier in the day.
"Ah I'm glad I found the right place! My friend told me you sold her a money charm and it worked like a, well, like a charm." She giggles softly at her own joke while Seokjin smiles as warmly as he can, acutely aware of Namjoon snorting above his steaming bowl of ramen.
"Can I help you look for anything in particular?"
"Oh well I'm not really sure- I guess I just wanted to see for myself, you know?"
"Try the luck ones," Namjoon pipes up, wiping at his chin with the corner of his coat sleeve. "I’m not a fan of this kinda shit but that one's not too bad."
"Ah," she says while nodding towards Namjoon.
"That is fairly popular, yes. Then there's the money ones, and the success ones; those along with the school related ones are very popular among most people. Of course there's also the love ones,"
"That sounds interesting," the nurse says with playful light in her eyes.
"It comes for couples, married partners and single people too."
"Well, I should take all the luck I can get in the relationship department, huh?" She jokes, glancing at Namjoon who smiles back good-naturedly.
"A little luck never hurts, I suppose." He adds, taking a swig of his beer.
"What would a handsome guy like you need luck for, huh? I'm sure there must be lots of girls running after you." The nurse chortles.
Namjoon rubs at his neck, expression nonplussed. "The, uh, problem is that, um- I'm not necessarily looking at the girls."
She blinks, still unsure if the underlying meaning.
"You see," he shifts to face her. "I need the luck to not get rejected by the men I'm running after. You feel me?"
All at once, Seokjin is floored. He doesn’t understand why just yet, only that this revelation stirs some kind of unbridled hope deep down. It’s a chance in every sense.
The nurse gasps loudly in understanding when she finally gets it.
"Oh! You're gay!"
"Cheers to that." He tilts his can towards the nurse and sips at it.
"Well in that case, I'm still sure you'd have no problem catching those boys." She grins and turns to Seokjin, still awkwardly watching the exchange in silence. "I'd like one of those love charms for single people, please."
"Alright, I'll just ring that up for you. Wou- would you maybe like something to eat?"
"Oh no, I'm fine thank you, I better be getting home soon anyway."
"Okay." He's used to it, he tells himself as he wraps the charm in red tissue paper. "That'll be 10,000 Won."
She passes him a banknote and bids the two men farewell, making her way back into the darkness of the streets they were all accustomed to.
"I can't believe she didn't want to eat anything." Namjoon perks up in momentary hush. "She must've had a cold if she couldn't smell how good this is." He gestures erratically at the bowl in front of him.
Seokjin shrugs with a smile. "It happens."
He watches the younger man grumble on about the nurse and feels satiated by the fact that someone actually cared.
Thursday is an abundantly clear day.
♢ ✴ ♢
When Seokjin was younger, he'd had a pet turtle that he'd found by the pond near his school. He'd managed to keep the pint-sized reptile a secret for a year until his mother had found it sitting in a bucket under his bed and demanded he take it back to the pond.
For that one year, Seokjin spent all his evenings talking to his turtle. (he'd named it Sea. it was ironic to him)
Looking back on it, he can't remember what confessions he'd spilled, just that 10 year old him always went to bed lighter after their little talks.
Now, when Namjoon shows up to his shop for a fourth night in a row, Seokjin is reminded of his turtle.
"Hey, so," the younger man manages to say in between slurps of his kimchi ramen. "I did some research at home, all this Omamori shit's from Japan, yeah? And they give it out at like, temples? What're you doing down here in drab ol' Seoul? Are you Korean or..?"
Seokjin puts down a can ofHite beside Namjoon's bowl. "Well my grandma was Japanese, and she basically migrated here in, I think 1946?"
"Why'd she come here? Weren't we leading up to the Korean War at the time?"
"Yeah but she needed to leave and she met my grandfather who was Korean and he offered to help her escape."
"Why'd she need to leave?"
Seokjin traces a groove in the wooden surface of the counter with his finger. "She was chased out of her hometown. They called her a witch."
He can remember her sad eyes with more vividness than a memory should offer.
"Oh."
"Yeah, but it's okay. She was happy here!"
"That's good to hear. Good ol' Korea, yeah?" Namjoon chuckles and rubs his bare hands together. "It's getting pretty chilly, d'you think there might be a storm coming up?"
Seokjin leans over and peers up at the dark yet cloudy sky. "Maybe, I hope so."
"What, you actually like them?"
"I love thunderstorms." He wrings his hands together. "Because sometimes nature can't handle the pressure, sometimes the sky explodes. Makes me feel like it's okay to be human if nature isn't so divine after all."
"Wait, but you don't know if you're divine or not. Think of it like this: just as you don't know how you manage to be conscious, how you manage to grow and shape this body of yours. That doesn't mean to say that you're not doing it. Equally, you don't know how nature fills its universe with stars, constellates the constellations, and galactifys the galaxies, you don't know. But that doesn't mean to say that you aren't doing it in just the same way as you're breathing without knowing how you breathe. Maybe we're all divine in some way, and nature's the mundane one."
"I've never- never really thought about it like that."
Seokjin finally looks at Namjoon, really looks at him, and takes in faint acne scars on his left cheek, the bruise fading just above his jawline, the unevenness of his full lips, and he decides that he's a liar. That the only divine being here is Namjoon, physical flaws and all.
"What do you do?" Seokjin blurts out suddenly. At least he hadn't spoken his mind inadvertently.
"Pardon?"
"You- you come by here nearly everyday, and you obviously don't live here. So, what do you do?"
Namjoon looks conflicted, as if he isn't sure whether or not to tell Seokjin the truth, before he shrugs to himself.
"I gamble."
"Huh?"
"You know the 'Red Moon' joint by that one motel down the street?"
"Yeah?"
"It's a gambling den. I lost my job a couple of months ago and then somehow I got into this. I used to teach math, y'know? They fired me 'cause one of the kids told their parents I was gay."
"That's terrible! Why would they fire you over something like that?!"
"Good ol' Korea, man. Anyways a night or two of research later and it turns out being out good with numbers is extremely helpful when you're a gambler. I've been playing cards for maybe a month now, and honestly it's not too bad. If you don't count the sleazy men and their risky deals."
"And the fact that it's illegal."
"Of course."
Seokjin chews at his lower lip.
"I don't get the appeal of gambling, it's just taking risks again and again for purpose of monetary gain."
"Well yeah, the amount of money one owns ultimately decides the victor. And it doesn't stop within the walls of a casino, or an illegal gambling den, it's a rule that forms the basis for a capitalist society. In a capitalist society, money is life, the fate of your life isn't dictated with order or fairness. Gambling just allows us to live out those chaotic principals in a controlled space. People gather in casinos because they revel in the sheer madness of betting on their own fate. It's not fun, it's insanity."
"Then why don't you stop?"
"You get addicted to the comfort of being able to count cards or decipher an opponent's poker face. Getting back to the real world, it'll be like withdrawal."
"Sounds like you're addicted."
"We've all got our flaws."
And yet Seokjin was willing to overlook every single one of them if it meant that he could see Namjoon as divine, even for just a little bit longer.
"That we do."
♢ ✴ ♢
"Wanna bet the cat likes me?"
"Why would you try to bet on something you'd know you'd lose? I thought you were a good gambler?"
"I'm willing to bet 20,000 Won."
"You're on," Seokjin takes a step away from the white cat lounging on the counter, blissfully unaware of the wagers being placed on it. "Work your magic, Kim."
Namjoon's face immediately puckers up and he bends down to bring his and cat's face closer to coo gently at the feline. "C'mon, baby, you're a good girl, right? You'll be nice for Namjoonie, right? That's it, baby, I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm just gonna p- OW," Namjoon cradles his hand, the cat who attempted to bite said hand continues to look unperturbed.
"Did she break skin?" Seokjin asks, immediately reaching out to inspect Namjoon's attacked hand.
"No, but do you prefer cash or credit?"
Seokjin huffs and pushes the offended hand away. "I'd prefer you to be smarter about your bets in the future. My charms can only do so much."
"I can attest to a lot of things your charms have done on me." Namjoon says, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.
"Yes but what will they do when you contract rabies because you thought the stray puppy on the road was friendly?"
"You will nurse me back to perfect health, won't you?"
Seokjin laughs and pushes himself off the counter, petting the cat one last time before going off to wash his hands.
"So what's cookin', good lookin'?"
"What?"
"You know, like, what's on the menu for today, handsome person that I know?"
A light pink settles itself onto Seokjin's cheeks and he rushes over to the boiling pot before his nervous chuckles evolve any further.
"It's uh, Yokohama Ramen; tonkotsu broth with shoyu. I'm adding slices of boiled pork and seaweed because you told me you liked them so much last time with the miso ramen."
Namjoon watches him work about in practiced movements that have become muscle memory to the other man and smiles fondly. At some point, coming to this dingy downtown lane had become more than just commuting to and from his games in the gambling den, and the ambrosial food was only a bonus.
Looking at Seokjin juggle between slicing the pork and pouring the broth and noodles into a bowl, he's hit with how attached he's become to the older man. This person that perseveres doing what he loves even if no one else would acknowledge it, who sells little pouches of magic that, whether a placebo effect or not, bring joy to people's lives.
"Alright," Seokjin pushes the bowl towards Namjoon with the usual disposable chopsticks. "Bon appetit!" He adds, only barely butchering the foreign words.
"Itadakimasu," Namjoon says, proud of his late night research into Japanese table manners. He splits his chopsticks and glances up at Seokjin, watching him expectantly. It's never really struck him how beautiful Seokjin is; with that look of hope plastered on his face, even for the smallest of things. He's always glowed under the dull lighting that keeps the shop illuminated through vacant nights, and even on cold, drenched days, he's the picture of warmth and.. home.
"Hey, Seok, c'mere," he crooks a finger at the confused man who complies and leans in closer.
"Just- let me know if- if you're, y'know, not okay with this." Namjoon murmurs with hooded eyes as he brings his face closer to Seokjin's. Slowly, very slowly, he lets their lips meet and it's not fireworks or earth shattering, it's a subtle feeling of something inside him clicking into place, as if to say that this is what was meant to happen all along.
Eventually Seokjin pulls away, fingers gently brushing up against his lips and a blush coloring his plump cheeks.
Namjoon offers a smile which Seokjin returns abashedly, and he digs into the meal happily.
"Th-thank you." Seokjin whispers after a beat, for moment he's not even sure Namjoon heard it but the soft look he gives him confirms that he did, loud and clear.
(thank you for being my first)
♢ ✴ ♢
It takes him 9 mornings altogether to craft it to perfection, and Seokjin assumes it's safe to say this was his favorite Omamori yet.
It's grey silk, pale cranes stitched into the fine thread and gold embroidery that spells the characters for the word 'Happiness'— a concept usually forgotten until acknowledged as an option. Omamori have a nuance of helping the buyer with ways to make their life better; this one whispers a small hint to, above all else, keeping yourself happy.
This charm in particular was special.
This charm was for Namjoon.
And Seokjin prayed for 3 of those 9 mornings to imbue it with the blessing he didn't truly understand from those humid afternoons with his grandmother, even now as he racked his brain to remember the words to a spell of protection.
But 9 mornings' worth of work pays off and he presents the brocade pouch to Namjoon proudly, grinning at the younger man inspecting it earnestly.
"Wait, this is for me? Are you serious? It's so beautiful, I can't keep taking nice things from you! I already get free food here after you put me into a chokehold over it. Figuratively of course but-"
"No buts, just keep it. Please?"
Namjoon's eyes soften. "You spoil me, you know that?"
"What can I say, I'm a giving person. And right now I need you to take!"
"Alright, alright," he laughs. "I guess this is mine now. What's it say on the front by the way?"
He watches Namjoon stroke the fine stitching carefully. "Shiawase. Happiness."
"Ah."
(stay like this. stay just like this for me)
"Okay, I know you don't believe in this ‘voodoo’ stuff, as you put it, but there is a rule or two you should know, because this one," his finger taps at the red string hanging down from the top of the pouch. "It's very potent. So, the first thing is to make sure it's on you as much as possible. Even those monkeys in suits keep their Omamoris tied to their briefcases."
"Ah okay, can do." He unbuttons a pocket close to the bottom of his camouflage coat and tucks the charm inside safely, patting it reassuringly once buttoned up. "All good now."
"The second thing, do not open it. No matter what. There's nothing in there that's particularly dangerous but I don't know, there's a lot of energy in that tiny bag and releasing it wouldn't come without a lot of repercussions."
"Repercussions? What, like bad luck?"
"Maybe? I don't know, I've never done this before."
Namjoon hums with satisfaction. "I'm the first, huh?"
"Get over yourself, I was this close to making one for the cat before you butted in."
"Don't talk about my butt so much, might make me think you want it." Namjoon winks flamboyantly to which Seokjin shakes head, shoulders shaking with laughter.
"Just be careful, alright?"
"You know what would make me want to be more careful?"
"What?"
Namjoon leans in with his eyes closed and lips puckered exaggeratedly. Seokjin thinks he should start keeping a count of the number of times he rolls his eyes before they fall out, and plants a chaste kiss on the younger's lips.
"Would you look at that, suddenly I'm ready to guard this charm with my life!"
"Glad to hear that." He replies wryly, secretly pleased that he can continue to help out the gambler in his own little way, be it with magic, or the comfort of something close to intimacy.
♢ ✴ ♢
Seokjin wasn't quiet or silent, or reserved, or filled with words unspoken for. There was no amount of convoluted and vague synonyms that could perfectly capture what he was at his core.
Deep down, under all that stagnant complacency, Seokjin was lonely.
All these years manning a standalone ramen shop on a street that only served as a path to other, better destinations, Seokjin had only asked for customers that would sit down on one of the creaky stools and ask him what the day's special was, a customer that came for what he could offer them, not for some blessing every member of his family could harness.
And now he had one, someone who was more than he ever thought he deserved.
Would he ever be able to lonely again now that he knew what this warm feeling could feel like?
♢ ✴ ♢
"Do you ever wonder what the meaning of life is?" Seokjin asks one evening, nursing a can of cold coffee the younger had picked up for him on the way back from the den.
Namjoon glances up as he chews his mouthful of steak bulgogi.
(suddenly every cut of meat he buys is the most expensive one his local market has to offer. if Namjoon asked him about it, he'd never let him know the exorbitant prices he pays to see Namjoon beam down at a bowl of his food)
Namjoon swallows down his food thickly. "I hear it's 42."
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing. What's up with the sudden midlife crisis?"
"I just- don't you ever feel like there's got to be something we're all here for? But what if there's nothing? What's the point then?"
Namjoon wipes off a stray smear of sauce by his lip. "I don't know, I guess we're all a side effect of the universe. We're all here to be miserable and to complain. We're all gonna die. The point is, let's pig out on good ramen while we can and toast to the insignificant things in life," he reaches for his opened can ofHite. "Like, hm, like- like the ladybugs! Cheers, to the ladybugs!"
Seokjin gapes at him for a moment before conceding and grabbing his respective can to clink it with Namjoon's, rolling his eyes playfully.
"Also," Namjoon starts, wincing slightly at his large gulp of beer. "I like to think it's up to us to choose what we want to live for. Don't have a purpose in life? That's alright, find something that keeps you afloat, and you find that just being suspended, weightless in the water while holding onto your buoy, the sheer exhilaration of surviving, that's why we're alive."
There's a question clawing its way through Seokjin's throat, he knows what answer he'd like to hear but Namjoon's always been the unpredictable sort. He clears his throat.
"Do you have a buoy?"
Namjoon pauses, his can frozen in its place by his lips as he contemplates the question. Their eyes meet, not for the first time during this particular evening, but right now it holds more than just a polite conversational courtesy. There's a beat of understanding that passes between them, like static electricity flying from one iris to another. Unspoken words exchange themselves in the space that fits perfectly in the middle of their warm bodies, and it's enough.
"Yeah. I think I've got one."
(thank you for keeping me afloat)
♢ ✴ ♢
Namjoon can't remember what day it is.
Unlike Seokjin, Namjoon was too much of a scatterbrain to have good grasp on the days that went by. But he knew it had been at least 2 months since the pair had met. Maybe more. He can't tell.
The days go by in a blur until he finally gets to spend time with Seokjin. He can remember all their conversations with striking clarity.
It's hard to put into words what Seokjin made him feel. Maybe it's a sense of piece in the havoc of his life. Maybe it's just simply affection.
(dare he say, love?)
There's a small plastic bag in his hand today.
It's a gift Namjoon had bought spontaneously on the way here. One of those happy cats with their paw up, a Maneki-Neko as the sales clerk had told him. He figured it would be funny to see the stray cat greet this figurine, plus it's meant to bring luck and he supposes that though it isn't much, it's some sort of luck he could bring to the older man.
The storm that's been waning for the past couple of weeks has arrived, the deceptive cadence has at long last hit a catharsis.
He's walking towards the street with his hood up, it's amazing how many people are still out here in this weather, students and salary men alike. Still commuting back and forth, living lives with a semblance of normalcy, now that he thinks about it; neither him nor Seokjin have what most might call a normal life.
Namjoon's lost in his reverie, playing through the staccato sound of the rain falling and accidentally collides into a man in a black hoodie. They exchange a set of mumbled apologies and go their separate ways.
It's only a few minutes later does he feel his pocket being lighter than it usually is.
Immediately he reaches for it, finding it unbuttoned and empty. He turns and runs back, searching for the man in the black hoodie who had seemingly pickpocketed him. Anyone else would've been glad that nothing like their wallet had been stolen, but Namjoon can feel a hiccup of a sob building up in his throat at the loss of his Omamori, the one Seokjin had spent days working on just for him. The sense of urgency overwhelms him as he pushes through crowds of people in an attempt to locate a shadow. It cannot be lost, it just can’t.
He wants to go to Seokjin, but the older man had told him he'd be late to opening the shop seeing as he was off doing groceries.
Namjoon dimly registers that he's getting late for his session and dejectedly begins making his way towards the street, his mind still racing with all the possible ways he could get it back.
Soon he's stepping into the 'Red Moon' and shrugging off his soaked jacket. At least they kept the radiator on in here, he thinks to himself distantly.
He seats himself at the usual table, sighing as he tries to rid himself of the defeated fugue he's under and slip on his best poker face.
"Today's game's Blackjack. Anyone gotta problem wit' that?" Jesung asks, the burly man usually plays the dealer at their games. Easier to handle unruly players if he's right in front of them.
There's a murmur of agreement that Namjoon joins in with as well. Four other players are seated at the table, two of which are new and the other two are regulars like Namjoon: Sungmin and Layla, the latter being an African American woman working as a translator for a Trading Company here. Namjoon got along with her well enough with his rudimentary English, in fact she was the one who suggested buying a gift for Seokjin.
The other two men at the table are.. unsavory to say the least. One of them looks around with shifty eyes and a flighty look on his face, and the other looks like an addict who's gone days without a fix.
Namjoon finds it best to stay away from them as much as possible.
Layla seems to have the same idea and situates herself between him and Sungmin.
"Place your bets, folks,"
The small group shuffles out chips of varying quantities and colors given to them when they entered.
The room is dark save for a lamp that hangs above the green felt covered table and Jesung begins to shuffle the cards with the practiced precision of a veteran. He places a single card in front of each player, face down, and then another face up. Once he's done, he motions for all the players to take a look at their cards. Namjoon has a 5 of hearts and an Ace of diamonds. For now that could either be a 6 or a 16.
He could go on and use math to his advantage here, counting the cards he'd seen and using a predetermined point system to evaluate whether the hand is advantageous to the dealer or to the player.
But not today.
He's not in the mood to win when he's still kicking himself over what he'd just lost. He's got to find a way to get it back, maybe he can track the guy down and-
"Hit me."
Jesung slams a card down in front of Sungmin. He looks unperturbed but Namjoon thinks he sees a flash of something else in his eyes when he picks up the card.
"Fold." Nothing has changed in his tone, he could've easily hit 21 or over.
Layla and one of the newcomers' follow suit and so does Namjoon after looking over his cards one last time. He gets a 4 of spades and folds. A 20 will be good enough for him. Maybe he's still lucky without the charm, it's not like he ever really bought into that bullshit.
"Hanbin?" Jesung asks the last player, the scary, coked up one. "What's your move?"
He eyes everyone at the table unsteadily and squeaks out a "Fold."
The table reveals their cards, Namjoon is tied with Sungmin at 20 while both the newcomers hold hands lower than them. Layla is the only one with a perfect 21 with a 5 of hearts, a 6 of spades and a Queen of hearts. She squeals excitedly and draws up all the chips towards her happily.
The coked up newbie twitches and mumbles something under his breath.
"What'd you say?" Jesung, the only one big enough to not be afraid to engage him, asks.
"She's cheating!" Hanbin yells suddenly, standing up and point a shaky finger at the frightened woman. "She was counting the cards! No, she's fucking the dealer, she’s sucking their fucking cocks with her slut mouth, THAT WHORE!"
She attempts to calm him down in her best Korean but fails when his ramblings get more and more agitated. Jesung moves to restrain him but gets shoved off, clearly taken off guard by this trembling, frenzied man.
No one is sitting now, and the other two men are cautiously taking steps towards him until he abruptly whips out a knife and lunges forward. He misses Layla by an inch due to his stumbling and unbalanced gait. Namjoon puts himself between Hanbin and Layla.
"YOU! You're cheating too!"
"Listen to me, you don't know what you're talking about. Why don't we just calm down and put the knife down, huh?" Namjoon says carefully.
"You're all such liars! CHEATERS!" He lunges forward one last time and a searing pain burns its way through Namjoon's abdomen, just below his navel. Jesung and Sungmin manage to pull him away but not before he pulls the knife out, letting out another wave of agonizing pain to rip.
He can vaguely hear Layla utter words urgently and incoherently, and he wants to tell her it's okay but he can't seem to get anything past his throat besides choked noises. Someone's pressing something against the wound and another hand is touching his wrist, likely checking his pulse.
Namjoon is crying. He hasn't cried in years.
Why couldn't he say good-bye to Seokjin? Who would be there for Seokjin if he wasn't? Who would eat his ramen and talk to him about life and love?
Who would love him the way Namjoon did?
The hot tears are one of the last things Namjoon can feel before his eyes close.
(i'm sorry I couldn't tell you how much you meant to me)
♢ ✴ ♢
Somewhere further away from Downtown Seoul, a pickpocket is examining his spoils of the day. He's clearing out wallets and throwing away keys and chewing gum wrappers. In the middle of his trophies lies a pale grey pouch. He eyes it with mild interest, maybe there was money inside. He unties the pretty, red thread and empties its contents onto his palm. There's a pink petal of some flower, (a lotus?) along with a rolled up scroll and a small piece of wood with intricate engravings scratched out on it.
Nothing of any value, he decides, and tosses it into a trashcan by the side of the road. He's disappointed in the type of things people keep in their pockets and gets back to work.
♢ ✴ ♢
Seokjin stirs the broth for the beef udon noodles and whistles to himself, albeit off tune.
The cat sits behind him playing with a feather toy Namjoon had bought for it one day. A lot has changed in his life because of Namjoon. Everything feels just a bit more warm, like home. That this is something that's held up by the two of them side by side.
It's nearly an hour until Namjoon's meant to be coming down and Seokjin waits impatiently.
He's still a patient man, but he likes to think that he's allowed to be impatient about things like this. He doesn't know how it happened exactly, but he finally knows what he's waiting for and that's all he's ever wanted.
The rain continues to pour but Seokjin thinks it'll end soon. There's something about it that seems like a finale, a coda to the symphony of this season.
(he remembers the word requiem when he looks out at the rain. it's a morbid thought that he puts away quickly)
It’s an early Tuesday morning and for the first time in his life, Seokjin is happy to wait.
♢ × ♢