Chapter Text
Pyeongchang, Summer 2014
If he were being completely honest with himself, Namjoon had never been on good terms with nature.
For one, he disliked dirt, bugs, and anything else that co-existed in the same ecosystem. A lifelong allergy to dust and pollen had pretty much predisposed him against the natural world, along with a mother who had actively quarantined him from it well into adulthood. Though he didn’t exactly look unathletic, most wouldn’t peg him to be the outdoorsy type either. Without a doubt, Namjoon would be the last person you could drag out to a hike in the mountains.
“Namjoon, watch out for that br- “
THWACK!
He doubles back as a stray branch hits him square in the face, right before losing his footing and landing on his back. “Ack, shi- “
He catches his mouth as his professor looks back at him. “You okay there?”
“All good here, sir.” Namjoon pointedly ignores the cliff edge he almost fell over, just a few inches to the left. He gives his professor an okay sign. “I go hiking all the time.”
Professor Lee doesn’t say anything else and resumes trekking up the path. If he needed to make his professor believe he was the outdoorsy type, he needed to convince himself he was going to survive this hike first. A little more dirt and stray branches couldn’t possibly kill him. As Namjoon scrambles back on his feet and dusts himself off, ahead their guide announces:
“ Everybody, we’re almost there. Just a bit ahead—Mount Baekun’s Baekryeong Cave!”
Namjoon’s semester had started out normally enough before that.
As an Art History major in his junior year, college was as hectic as he expected it to be. Despite added units on his plate that semester, he stayed on top of numerous research papers, exams, and proto-exhibitions by carefully planning out his agenda. He was no ace student (God forbid word got out about his Biology grades from the previous semester), but he knew for a fact that his ambition more than made up for that.
When internship hunting season began, he knew exactly where he needed to go.
Every year, Professor Lee Yeonggyu served as guest curator in the Hong Kong Museum of Art’s annual Korean contemporary art exhibition. Anyone who has ever taken up their program in the last ten years knew his Hong Kong-based apprenticeship was the best internship out there. To be offered a chance to be his apprentice at the exhibit, you’d have to be his star pupil for the year—a role that frankly, Namjoon has been preparing for ever since he took Professor Lee’s Postcolonial Korean Art class in freshman year and subsequently took at least one class under him every semester.
Yet even as Namjoon had done his homework and saved up on brownie points the past three years, he was only as brilliant as a few more coursemates who got the same GPAs as him every semester would let him. With the academic year about to end, the professor had yet to choose an apprentice.
It wasn’t his fault Professor Lee had been notoriously elusive that semester, anway. Not when he seemed especially at his busiest. He practically never responded to any of his emails if they weren’t related to classwork. Consultation hours were strictly reserved for graduating students with their theses. In between lectures, he left absolutely no window for Namjoon to even chat him up.
“He is pretty busy,” Professor Bang, another teacher he’s close to, had told him when he caught Namjoon hanging around in front of the faculty room for the nth time that semester. “The busiest he’s been in recent years, it seems. But tell you what…”
It was a crazy idea from the beginning, but Namjoon bet his life on it. The very next day, he booked a camping trip to Pyeongchang on the weekend right before finals. Professor Bang Sihyuk—bless him—deserved Namjoon’s secondborn child (the first automatically went to Professor Lee), if he were to have any children.
Namjoon called it a “wonderful coincidence” when he bumped into Professor Lee at the meeting place early that morning, claiming that he liked to go on nature trips to clear his head, especially before finals. That was all part of the plan. Unfortunately, almost falling off a cliff in some far flung town in Gangwon province was not.
“What size are your feet again?” A voice interrupts Namjoon’s thoughts.
“Pardon?”
“Are you okay?”
He snaps out of it and zeroes in on the wide-eyed young man in front of him. He almost forgets he’s in line at the caving equipment rentals, waiting to get shoes. The young man behind the counter continues to eye him a bit worriedly. “I’m sorry. Yes, I am.”
“Saw you had a bit of a scary fall back there at the trail. I was concerned you might have gotten a concussion, or something. A little more ways to the left and— “
“You saw that?” Namjoon cuts him off a little embarrassedly.
“Oh, well… You kind of walked into a tree branch before falling flat on your back back there. It was hard to miss,” he admits. Sensing Namjoon’s stomach doing gymnastics by now probably, he repeats, “Sorry, what size?”
“270.”
The man goes to get him his shoes. Namjoon sneaks a glance over at Professor Lee, who is now in full caving gear while talking excitedly with the head guide and a few other guests:
“My back’s been acting up the past few months, but I’m sure I could still slide down that cave on my belly like a pro!”
Everyone around him laughs except for Namjoon.
They take a boat ride across the river to the cave entrance. In theory, it was easy. In full-body canvas overalls, knee pads, hard hat, and heavy boots, not so much. Not only were the overalls ill-fitting (he had picked the wrong size and only realized when they were halfway down the mountain), it also chafed terribly against parts of his body Namjoon need not mention.
“Exciting, innit?” Professor Lee says during the boat ride.
“What? Oh yes, sir, I go on these all the time. Nature, adventure, whoo! ”
“Hmm, so you’ve mentioned.”
The professor then launches into stories of his experiences at this cave and a whole lot of other caves around the country. The rest of the group, most of them the avid outdoors-type like him, listen intently and constantly interject with their own reactions and anecdotes. For a moment, Namjoon realizes that it’s his first time seeing his professor so at home outside of a museum or classroom. It almost makes him feel at home himself.
“Let me tell you, the first time I ever had to rappel inside a cave, I almost peed myself!”
Discreetly, Namjoon smells the inside of the overalls and wonders if anybody has ever peed or died in it.
“Don’t worry, no one’s ever died in those overalls—let alone in any of our tours,” the young man from the rental place says, appearing out of nowhere. He matches Namjoon’s (rather slow) stride as they fall behind the group. “That I know of, at least.”
“And how long have you been working here?”
“Around six months.”
“You made us sign insurance papers, though.”
“Still…”
Namjoon fights back a shudder.
“I’m Kim Seokjin by the way, assistant tour guide.”
Namjoon isn’t sure people exchanged names a lot on nature tours, but he introduces himself anyway. “Kim Namjoon, a tad bit nervous. How do you do?”
“A tad bit better than you I would say, Kim Namjoon-ssi.”
Namjoon grimaces slightly.
“Oh! We’re here!”
“Everyone, welcome to Baekryeong Cave!”
An excited buzz possesses the group, but Namjoon is the only one unaffected. Ahead, the mouth of the cave waits for them like a void of dark, unknown terrors.
“This is a relatively easier trail compared to others,” Seokjin says as they enter.
“Good to know,” Namjoon tries to return calmly. At least it’s not as dark as he expected, with some daylight from outside still making its way in. This shouldn’t be so hard.
When they reach the first descent deeper into the cave, Seokjin lets him go first. Namjoon proceeds to grab onto the taut rope at the center of the trail with both hands and carefully slide one foot forward after the other.
“You’ve never been caving before, have you?”
“I have. Just not here,” Namjoon lies.
Seokjin points to one arm. “Relax. You can let go with this arm, but just watch your step.”
Namjoon does as he’s told as they go down. When they make it to the landing, the head guide begins his explanation:
“This is Baekryeong Cave, a unique beauty right here in Pyeongchang County. It’s known for its limestone formations. For approximately 500 million years, they have been kept in their natural state—and that makes it the only one of its kind in the whole country!
Now, as we go deeper into the cave, expect narrower and steeper passages which you’ll have to crawl to get through. Do we have any first-timers here?”
A number of people raise their hands, but not Namjoon. He’s afraid the professor in front of him might see. From beside him, he feels Seokjin looking at him.
“Is there a problem, Kim Seokjin-ssi?” he whispers through barely concealed irritation.
“Nope. None here.” A barely concealed snigger.
Should all assistant tour guides be this annoying and up-in-your-business all the time?
“...then we’ll plunge into total darkness. Let’s move forward, shall we?”
Namjoon doesn’t quite believe what he hears so he turns to Seokjin. “Wait, what? ”
He, in turn, sniggers louder. “You’ll see.”
Which part of “total darkness” did this guy not understand?
They continue inwards. Namjoon actively avoids the annoying assistant tour guide and moves a bit forward into the group. As they go along, he notices the light from their helmets casting a brighter sheen of the cave walls, indicative of water nearby. With Namjoon just tailing behind him, the professor doesn’t witness the handful of times he slips or almost hits his head on a nearby boulder or low-hanging ceiling.
One instance he does see though, is when Namjoon loses his footing, but is quick enough to hold on to a jutting growth of rock on the wall.
“Be careful, Namjoon!” the professor berates.
“Yes, sir. Sorry- “
“That ‘rock’ there took hundreds of years to form, and the oil from human skin only hinders their growth. You ought not to lean on it just like that, son! ” the head guide suddenly barks out at him. Namjoon genuinely wishes the cave would just swallow him whole.
Some moments later, they stop at a dead end.
…That wasn’t really a dead end.
Near the floor of the cave is a narrow passage barely large enough to fit a grown man. He sees the head guide explaining to the group how to go about passing through. When it’s finally time for them to crawl into the passage and the people— Professor Lee Yeonggu! —begin to get down on the ground, Namjoon’s heart almost stops beating. He had to crawl through that?
Almost by reflex, he falls back until he finds himself side-by-side with Seokjin again, who had been instructing the small group of young women with them on the next step. Namjoon inconspicuously listens in.
“...As you can see, you have to get flat on your belly then move using your arms. Like this” —he demonstrates the movement with his arms— “while also using your legs to help push you forward. Got it?”
They follow-up with a few more questions that Seokjin readily answers. “Don’t worry though,” he says as they get ready to enter, “it’s only a few meters long. It’ll be over soon as you know it.”
He waits for the last of the women to be halfway through the passage when he gestures for Namjoon to enter. At this point, they are the last two left behind. “After you.”
Namjoon doesn’t move. Couldn’t move. “I- “
“Come on, now. Just think of it as physical training, like crawling through the mud courses in the army. Remember those?” Seokjin says.
The crippling embarrassment Namjoon already feels somehow goes up another three dials. “Oh, I-I wouldn’t know...yet.”
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize you haven’t gone yet,” he apologizes. “Well, it should still be easy enough.”
“I don’t know…”
Seokjin’s lips curve into a soft, reassuring smile. “Hey. You can do it,” he says, and for whatever reason, it makes Namjoon’s insides feel lighter by six dials.
So he gets down on all fours and enters the passage. Inside, he tries hard not to think about the already constricted space constricting even more. Tries to ignore the thoughts of being encased in a stone tomb, like some ancient monarch. Instead, he focuses on the beams projected by the helmets of those already on the other side, lighting up his path. Finally, he is able to wriggle his way through most of it when—
BAM!
The impact his hard helmet makes against the cave rock is enough to make his brain feel like it’s been rattled inside his skull. He blinks a few times to dissolve the dark haze in his vision, and realizes that by some miracle, in his confusion, he had managed to extract himself fully from the crawl space. When he looks up, Professor Lee is extending a hand to him.
“There you are,” he says as Namjoon takes it gratefully. “Been waiting for ya.”
“Please do remember to watch your head, everyone,” Namjoon hears the head guide say to the group.
Behind him, Seokjin had just made it through the passage. Namjoon watches as he expertly flips himself over, slides himself out, and pulls himself up in one deft movement. He makes a show of dusting himself, then his hands, off. When he catches Namjoon still watching, he waves at him and beams. Namjoon returns a thumbs up and weak smile of his own. One thing at a time.
The clearing they had emerged into is a fairly large cavern, almost the size of an auditorium in his university. The head guide asks them all to sit together on an elevated man-made platform in the middle. Professor Lee and he find a spot at the back of the group.
“Listen here, everyone. This part is what we like to call “The Midnight Zone”—named it myself actually,” the head guide adds a little proudly. “This part of the cave is so deep in, no light from the outside can reach it anymore.”
A genuine fear surges through Namjoon. There is truly nothing more terrifying to him than naming the part of a subterranean cave after the experience of being plunged thousands of leagues under the sea.
“Right now, I’d like to ask everyone to turn their headlights off for three minutes, and join in on a group meditation session as we are immersed in total darkness.”
Total darkness.
“You’ll see,” Seokjin says.
“Now if everyone would so kindly turn off their headlights…” The head guide extinguishes his headlight and the large lamp he carries first.
Around them, the group follow one by one. Namjoon is the last to turn off his, but he has little time to hesitate with the professor sitting beside him. Before he does, he tilts his head up and casts light on a jagged piece of rock, slick with moisture, from the ceiling for the briefest moment.
But the sight leaves him right away as they are consumed by pitch black darkness. At first, Namjoon loses the feeling in his fingers. Then the icy cold, numbing sensation spreads up to his arms, his torso, his neck. He tries furling and unfurling his fingers, then his toes, but it doesn’t help that he can’t see nor feel them.
Total...
He tries to picture something, anything to fight off the gaping blankness. He squeezes his eyes shut to help, but no image comes to mind. Even then, he could not distinguish between seeing and not being able to, having company or being completely alone.
Darkness...
The numbness finally reaches his head and he feels his strength succumb. He falls backward. It happens in slow motion, as if he were being plunged underwater.
Then, his back hits something small, yet solid. He feels it push him forward, spread out to support him further, press firmly against each short, ragged breath.
He anchors on that single, tangible feeling. Slowly, he lets the warmth of that hand return the sensation to his torso, his neck, his head. Then he hears a single drip echo through the cavernous space.
“You’ll see.”
The words ring differently in his mind now, like a sincere guarantee than anything else. He sees lips curve into a soft, reassuring smile, and when he opens his eyes, he sees them again right in front of him.
“You’re okay,” Seokjin says, and Namjoon believes him even though his arms and legs still feel like jelly. He taps a finger to his own helmet to remind Namjoon to turn on his headlight then makes his way to the front of the platform.
“I hope everyone felt recharged after that meditation session,” the head guide says as if it’s not the most ludicrous thing Namjoon has ever heard in his life. “For the next part of the cave tour, you may stay seated as I let Seokjin take the floor.”
Seokjin takes his place in front, his hands clasped in front of him. “Hello again everyone, I’m Kim Seokjin, your assistant tour guide,” he begins brightly and bows. “I’m also a junior at Yonsei University, taking up Earth System Sciences—so I can assure you that I know what I’ll be talking about.”
This earns him a little bit of laughter from the group. “These pillars or columns behind me are the main attraction of Baekryeong Cave. At first glance, you may think they’re just a bunch of big rocks you’d normally see in a cave, and you’re right—dolomite caves and limestone caves, like this one, always do. What makes them special, though, is how they are formed.
“As my sunbae-nim had mentioned at the start of our tour, pillars like these take hundreds of millions of years to form. Now you’ve probably learned this from your elementary science class already, but sadly if I skip out on this part, I might lose my job,” Seokjin suddenly quips, throwing a dramatic sideways glance at his senior. He makes them all laugh again like it’s the easiest thing for him to do.
“Stalactites and stalagmites.” He holds up two fingers at first, then another finger. “Pillars need them, while they need three things: Water, minerals, and gravity. Water from above seeps into the ground and dissolves minerals as it passes through. It then seeps into the ceiling of this cave. When the water from these mineral solutions evaporate, they leave behind deposits that grow downward to form a distinct straw or icicle-like shape. That’s how you get stalactites.
“Stalagmites, on the other hand, grow upward from the ground. They’re formed from the water that drips off stalactites.” Seokjin mimics the said motion with his hands. “The impact from the water drop’s fall flattens the calcite deposits, and they pile up to form a more cone-like shape.
Stalactites and stalagmites keep growing, a few centimeters each year, towards each other. It takes a lot of time and patience, so you can say it’s one of the most faithful things to ever occur in nature. When they meet, they’re normally called pillars or columns, but I like the name ‘ stalagnates ’ more.”
“It’s an old-fashioned term though!” the head guide adds. “Only our Seokjin- ahjussi here uses it.”
Seokjin chuckles. “It’s true,” he admits, then finds Namjoon’s eyes from the back of the crowd. “But ‘stalagnates’ has a nicer ring to it, don’t you think?”
Upon the guides’ clearance the group disperses to get a better look at the formations by themselves, but with strict orders to not touch any of them. Some step off the platform to look at them up close. Namjoon and the professor walk to the edge of the platform, where they have a full view.
Above them, the stalactites hang in fine, long stalks, some are already bigger, thicker, and almost his size, if not, larger. Haphazardly, they drape the ceiling in rows upon rows of glimmering candelabra. Below them, the stalagmites remind him of a sturdy forest planted with elaborately layered calcite. Some have only begun to sprout like toadstools, while others towered over them like trees that almost touched the sky.
Almost.
He searches for the pillars—no, stalagnates —that defied almost.
Like monoliths that hold up the entire cavern, they stand proud for everyone to see. Namjoon tries to imagine the millennia of storms, wars, and entire human civilizations these stalagnates, as ageless and primordial as history itself, have survived. To Namjoon, it is nothing short of miraculous.
Then he spots Seokjin, a little ways to the right. With eyes glazed over and lips slightly parted, he gazes upon the stalagnates like he was also seeing them for the first time, and it undeniably strikes something deep in Namjoon.
Nature had never been particularly beautiful to Namjoon. Sure, he could appreciate the charm of a pretty flower or a vibrant sunset, but that’s all they are to him— charming. One would call an idyllic, rural village charming, but a masterful painting of the same landscape would be called beautiful.
Beautiful was reserved for Renaissance portraits of saints and Hellenic sculptures of the gods. It was for ornate jade vases and well-preserved scrolls of scholarly calligraphy. To Namjoon, beautiful had always been for what could be framed or displayed in a museum.
“Just think. The Greeks constructed their Corinthian columns with plaster while the Native Americans carved their totem poles with wood,” the professor muses. He holds his head higher to admire the view. “But nature—nature grew this all by herself. To build is not to grow, but to grow always means to build. What do you think, Namjoon? Isn’t it beautiful?”
For the first time that weekend, Namjoon doesn’t lie to him. “It is beautiful, seonsaeng-nim . Very much so.”
Come evening, the group retreats to a pension house rented out by the tour company. They have a hearty dinner of barbecue, budae-jjigae , and beer on two long tables joined together in the backyard. Surprisingly, it quickly evolves into a group affair, with the professor grilling meat and even Namjoon helping roast vegetables for the others even though he couldn’t cook.
After dinner, Seokjin disappears inside briefly and returns to the patio with a guitar. Upon seeing him, his senior greets him excitedly. “Seokjin, play us something!”
The other guests encourage him on as well. It’s obvious the assistant guide has been quite popular among them that day, so it would be quite refreshing to see him play music. Seokjin flashes a shy smile before perching on the patio railing. The young women with them take out their phones and start recording him, giggling to themselves. He carefully tunes each string first.
Overhead, the moon is full and bright. Down below, the Dong River snakes through the landscape like a sparkling ribbon. A strange sense of calm pervades Namjoon. It’s a kind of calm that puts Namjoon at ease even in the presence of his professor, who he’s never really been relaxed around.
Seokjin starts by plucking out a familiar tune, gentle like a lullaby. He does not need to sing the words for Namjoon to know it is a rendition of “Moon River” by Henry Mancini. His playing is neither grand nor expertful, yet Namjoon is completely entranced. Beside him, Professor Lee hums along.
When the last verse arrives, the professor softly sings to the tune:
“We’re after the same rainbow’s end
Waiting ‘round the bend
My huckleberry friend
Moon river and me.”
The small crowd around him claps appreciatively, and he gets a few more requests ranging from popular hits to 70’s love songs. Seokjin is modest enough to admit not knowing most of them, but the few that he does, he fervently plays for those watching.
All the while, they drink rice wine from a large clay jug at the center of the group. Professor Lee periodically refills Namjoon’s glass without him noticing, which doesn’t really leave him with much of a choice on anything. The rice wine is exceptionally good however, light and cool on Namjoon’s tongue then filling and warm in his stomach. A few more songs from the other guests then plates of steaming pig’s feet follow, making it easy enough for Namjoon to help himself to the mini revelry.
It could have been an hour or slightly more already, when he notices the group has significantly lessened—most having turned in for the night, no doubt—and that he, for a fact, is very dizzy.
The professor himself is not spared from the free-for-all drinking. Though known to hold his liquor well through years of practice, his face is still flushed a deep, kind of persimmon color—a novelty Namjoon had never gotten used to even after all the time they spent dining out together. In his own drunken state, he watches his professor sway when he reaches for the guitar from the last person it’s been passed to.
He fumbles with the right chords for a bit, but is eventually able to strum out the unmistakable intro of a famous trot song, much to Namjoon’s surprise. The head guide and innkeeper join him in singing:
“On that green meadow
I want to build a picturesque house
And together with our beloved you
Live a hundred years.”
Without thinking, Namjoon’s eyes travel to Seokjin. Unlike the rest of the remaining guests on the patio, he doesn’t seem half as drunk. Instead he’s sitting in the corner, intently typing something on his phone.
Probably talking to his girlfriend, Namjoon thinks. When Seokjin looks up from his phone, their eyes briefly meet and Namjoon quickly looks away. He wonders if it’s the alcohol making his whole body feel a lot warmer.
Around them, the elders passionately belt out the last of the lyrics together:
“Even with a firefly light, a thatched house, if I’m with you
It’s fine to me, it’s fine to me, if I’m with you
If I live together with you.”
The few guests break out into cheerful applause. “Quite surprised your ssaem had that in him, aren’t you Namjoon?” Professor Lee says as he sets the guitar down and more people retire inside.
“Somehow, not really. You seem to be the type who is good at anything he tries, ssaem ,” Namjoon says truthfully.
Professor Lee chuckles. “That’s flattering. That makes two of us, I would say.”
This might be his chance. “Listen, ssaem ,” Namjoon begins. “About the apprenticeship.”
“I see where this is going now,” the professor says, nodding. He’s still smiling, but Namjoon isn’t sure if it’s because he’s still pleased.
Namjoon decides to try his luck. “It’s just that...it starts in less than two months, and I was wondering if you’ve picked an assistant yet because I- “
He is interrupted when the professor suddenly stands up. “I’m going to bed,” he announces.
“Sir- “
“Don’t stay up too late.”
He gazes at his professor’s back, walking away from him for the nth time that day, the realization of the true weight of what he had just done slowly sinking in. He sits forward again and buries his face in his hands.
From behind him, the head guide clears his throat. “Uh, well...I should head in too.”
Then, another voice drawing nearer says, “Just gonna take advantage of this good reception for a while. I won’t be long, sunbae-nim. ”
Namjoon hears the head guide grunt in response. Seokjin plops down on the mat a few feet from him, holding his phone aloft.
It’s very quiet on the patio now, save for the sounds of the messenger app on Seokjin’s phone. The rapid, hollow-sounding tapping of his keyboard, interjected by the ping of a returned message here and there, somehow help to calm Namjoon down and sober him up a little.
When the ping sounds lessen and Seokjin’s typing slows, that’s when he says, “Women, am I right?”
“Sorry?”
“Women. It’s just...they make you chase after them, you know? When you finally play into what they want” —he makes a pointed gesture at his screen— “they bail, then come around when they’re bored again.”
“I guess so? “
Seokjin lets out a long exhale. “If you ask me, you should have just asked where a straightlaced professor like him learned to play the guitar like that.”
Namjoon is still puzzled at what this stranger was getting at. The fact that his head is already all muddled and fuzzy at this point doesn’t help either. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
“I learned guitar from a pal back in the military,” Seokjin says. “It was more of a distraction from the homesickness and boredom back then, but soon I was able to use it to impress a girl in one of my classes without even trying.”
Why would he even compare Professor Lee to a girl he liked?
“And now we’re texting! Neat, right?”
“Right,” Namjoon says, just to be polite.
When the air between them stays silent, Seokjin sighs. “I don’t mean to intrude but, you know, you really should have been more natural with your approach back there,” he says, bowing his head and rubbing the back of the neck to avoid Namjoon’s questioning stare.
“I was being natural with it,” Namjoon defends.
“I wouldn’t exactly call crashing a personal weekend getaway just to talk business with your professor as natural, though,” Seokjin says flat out. “Or professional. I mean, an email would have sufficed...”
It’s obvious he sees right through Namjoon’s earlier ruse, so he drops it. “It was his last free weekend before finals and his business trip abroad. I...I had to.”
Seokjin gapes at him. “You’re kidding? His last free...” He trails off in disbelief.
Namjoon furrows his eyebrows. He tries to center himself again by tracing the grain on the wooden floor of the patio. “He’s been busy, okay? I couldn’t get a hold of him in any way the entire semester.”
Seokjin bobs his head up and down as if to acknowledge this. “Okay, but what’s so special about this apprenticeship anyway? Why follow your professor all the way to another region just to talk about it with him?”
“It’s my only option” he answers.
“Really? Like, you literally have no other- “
“It’s an apprenticeship that only goes to Professor Lee’s top student,” Namjoon cuts him off agitatedly. “It’s the most ideal place to start a career in the field. Whoever gets it is almost always successful after graduation.”
Seokjin is silent in thought for a while. Then he says, “Aren’t you chasing after that apprenticeship a little too far though?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how else to say this but…” He rubs the back of his neck again. “If you really wanted that apprenticeship, you shouldn’t have to stick out your neck and pretend to like things like camping or stalagnates just to get it. It isn’t exactly a sincere thing to do.”
“Well, you wouldn’t know what sincerity is, then,” Namjoon says curtly. He promptly stands up and leaves.
Morning rolls in, and Namjoon is barely lucky enough to wake up past ten in the morning with just a first degree headache and a heavy feeling in his stomach. When group treks a few kilometers to visit a nearby restaurant for lunch, Namjoon vomits out the seafood pancake he could barely consume. Whether due to last night’s alcohol or series of awkward exchanges, Namjoon is sure that with the professor pretending nothing happened and him pretending Seokjin is nothing, it was both.
The professor seems like he’s in the most refreshed and chipper mood Namjoon has seen him in awhile. He sticks by Namjoon the whole time (except for the toilet, where he had successfully purged even the remains of dinner), not giving away anything that meant he was affected by last night’s events being the true professional that he was. He even jokes around more than usual and gives Namjoon his other mackarel when he gets back from the toilet.
Meanwhile, Namjoon takes to actively avoiding Seokjin for the second time that weekend. He too, doesn’t seem all that troubled as he goes about mingling with the other tourists in his usual bright manner. This lack of remorse just proves to irk Namjoon even more.
Stop ignoring me ignoring you, dammit! Namjoon vehemently thinks, unconsciously stabbing what’s left of his mackarel with his chopsticks. If he is the only one actually bothered by last night, then maybe what happened had only been a horrible, makgeolli- induced nightmare. Namjoon holds onto this mere possibility, but even as they visit the local folk village next, his bad mood doesn’t leave him. Not even the well-preserved and thoroughly detailed artefact displays could cheer him up. If anything, the visit stresses him out even more because it reminds him of finals, which he should be preparing for this weekend.
They return to the inn after that. On the trail, the professor finds a pinecone which he appears highly engrossed in. That fact that he looks more interested in a pinecone than anything Namjoon’s ever said to him over the weekend makes him feel even more miserable.
“Namjoon, watch- “
The mountain rushes past him in a blur. He ends up on his side on level ground below, groaning. He could have sworn that descent wasn’t there a minute ago.
The rest of the group behind him, including Professor Lee, call out to him worriedly.
“Are you okay?”
“He’s bleeding!”
“I told you to watch out, Namjoon!”’
It only takes a few moments before someone leaps off-trail down to where he is. Suddenly, Seokjin is crouching beside him, assessing his legs. Namjoon tries to move, but is only hindered by a hot, sharp pain in one of his legs.
“You are bleeding,” Seokjin points out. Namjoon stares down at the injury in question. Blood from an ugly gash running the side of his left calf already soaks the hem of his shorts. “Can you stand?” He offers his hand to him and Namjoon hefts himself up with his good leg. “Let’s get you over there.”
When Namjoon tries to walk, however, more pain shoots up his leg as he puts weight on his foot. He stumbles, but Seokjin is quick to drape his arm over his shoulder and hold on to his waist. He leads them to a broad, flat rock on the side of the trail and instructs Namjoon to sit on it. “The first aid kit is back at the inn, but we’ve got to stop this bleeding first.”
From a distance, the head guide says, “The soil here is all eroded, so that foothold is all loose. Please hold on to the railing and watch your step, everyone!” The rest of the group resume their trek down, this time more cautiously. Professor Lee throws a worried glance at Namjoon, so he holds up an okay sign back. He starts walking towards them, but Seokjin stops him.
“It’s okay, sir, I’ve got this. We’ll be with you in a bit. I just need to tourniquet Namjoon-ssi’s leg,” he says reassuringly.
“Alright. Namjoon, I trust you’re in good hands,” the professor says. “See you back at the inn, boys.”
Seokjin fishes a handkerchief from his pocket and breaks off an overhanging branch from a tree. He kneels down before Namjoon and says, “If you don’t mind,” then gets to work.
They are quiet for a moment until Seokjin says, “I’m sorry, for saying those things last night.” Namjoon doesn’t reply, so Seokjin continues, “I shouldn’t be off telling strangers that chasing after their ambitions wrong. Besides, you seemed to be genuinely enjoying yourself out there after a while. Who was I to deny that?”
Surprised at his comment, it takes some time before Namjoon says, “I was. And it’s okay.” Then he adds, “I get emotional when I’m drunk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time. Also, you should re-evaluate your choice of footwear the next time you go trekking," Seokjin remarks, gently nudging Namjoon's slip-on Birkenstock with the toe of his hiking boot.
Their laughter fills the now-empty trail, clear and true. Seokjin finishes the last knot on his tourniquet and leans back slightly to admire his handiwork.
“Thank you. Where did you learn to do first aid with” —Namjoon squints at his dark blue makeshift bandage with gray Hanja characters embroidered on it— “a handkerchief and a twig?”
“The military.”
Namjoon is suddenly struck curious. Seokjin didn’t seem too far off from his own age, but was also about to graduate like him. “If you don’t mind me asking, when did you enlist for the military?”
"Hmm? Right after high school.”
“Why? Didn’t you want to take a year off at least?”
“Well, for one, none of my friends were going yet. I grew up with them practically my entire life. I needed a break from them, at least,” Seokjin scoffs, though he seemed far from the withdrawn, introverted type to do that. “I definitely had plans to go to university with them, though. I was a good student, I studied diligently, and I attended all the after-school review sessions. I even ended up getting a fairly good mark on my entrance test and qualifying for my college of choice. But...I didn’t want to rush headlong into the future without knowing how to survive and do everything by myself just yet, you know?”
“I get it,” Namjoon says, and it’s the first time they finally agree on something.
Seokjin gets up and dusts himself off like he did yesterday in the cave. “I actually wanted to be a tried-and-tested company worker, like my old man. Even took the prep courses for it in high school. But you know something?” He plants both hands on his waist, takes in a sweeping look of the landscape then a big, generous inhale of air as he does. “When I trained in and drove through all those mountains and terrains, I realized that I wanted to be out here for the rest of my life.”
Namjoon smiles. It turns out he wasn’t the only one between them wildly chasing after their dreams.
* * *
Pyeongchang, Spring 2016
Namjoon’s boots blow a cloud of dust into the air as he leaps off the bus. He takes that big, generous inhale of mountain air. Twenty-one months do not do much to change the scenery, but to him, the trees also look a little greener, the air a little crisper, and the sun a little brighter.
The head guide leads them to a campsite this time where a handful of people are already setting up and pitching their tents. Two years ago, he would have strongly rejected the prospect of sleeping in a tent so close to the ground and bugs. Now, the idea of just rolling out a sleeping bag by the campfire under the stars excited him greatly. His dust allergy hadn’t bothered him in years, and it briefly crosses him if it had been a mere idea his mother had planted in his mind just to keep him indoors as a child this whole time.
Because he had booked the trip so late, the head guide briefs him on his situation. “We actually have accommodations for last-minute reservations, but only for solo travellers because you’d have to share the tent with someone else.”
“No worries, sir. Thank you for having me!” He bows respectfully, then goes off to look for a certain tent with a yellow roof. He finds it with no problem along with a familiar face he had been waiting to see all this time.
Crouching by the foot of the tent and securing a peg into the ground is Kim Seokjin.
“Art history major guy?!”
Namjoon raises a hand in greeting. “Long time no see. The name’s Kim Namjoon, by the way.”
“Kim Namjoon-ssi,” Seokjin absently repeats to himself. Seeing as he was still in his fatigues, Seokjin skims him from head to toe several more times. “Wha- What brings you here?”
Namjoon takes off his cap and rubs down hard on his cropped hair. He looks up at him shyly. “I don’t know. Something told me this was the first place I needed to go, you know?”
Seokjin cranes his neck to the side, as if in search of something or someone behind him. “The professor—is he here with you?”
“Nope, it’s just me.”
“But the apprenticeship...Macau, was it? You- “
“Hong Kong, actually. I didn’t take it,” Namjoon explains with a smile. He points to the heavy backpack strapped across his chest. “Can I leave this over here?”
“What? Oh, yeah, sure.” Seokjin still looks confused. “But Hong Kong, you said- “
If Namjoon were a bit bolder, he would say this felt no different from meeting an old friend again. “I guess someone told me that I didn’t have to rush headlong into the future yet, just because everyone else was doing it.”
Seokjin’s face breaks out into a fond smile. “That person must have been really smart, then?”
“You could say that.” Namjoon shrugs noncommittally. “You’re still an assistant tour guide out here?”
“I actually work as a full-time researcher at the university now, but I still help out here on the weekends when I’m not too busy.”
“Good on you,” Namjoon says. Suddenly, he remembers the object in his pocket. “By the way, I never got to return this to you.”
It must have been strange for him to use both hands and bow slightly while handing back his handkerchief because Seokjin’s eyebrows are raised and he’s looking at him weirdly, but he doesn’t care. It has been with him through his entire time away.
“Thank you, though you didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have thought you’d remember to return it after all this time.” He takes it anyway. Then he glances at Namjoon’s bag on the ground by the tent. “Why’d you leave that here?”
“You just said I could,” Namjoon scoffs.
“Wait, why are you here? Like, here here.”
“The head guide said I could stay in this tent.”
Seokjin smirks at him wryly. It takes a few seconds before it clicks in Namjoon’s mind. “Oh wait, so this is your tent?”
The hike in Mount Baekun is still rugged and challenging. The canvas overalls Namjoon gets still doesn’t fit him right (and chafes against him in the wrong places). Entering the “Midnight Zone” still freaks him out, and he almost slips and hits his head on a boulder again.
But the stalactites and stalagmites are still beautiful, and this time around, he and Seokjin talk more. About the weather, then about girls (though this is mostly Seokjin who’s had the liberty to date for the past two years). Over dinner, Namjoon tells him stories from his time in the army. In turn, Seokjin fills him in on the rest of his studies at Yonsei.
“Just curious, have your plans after university changed at all?” Seokjin asks when he finishes talking about his work after graduating. It’s late at night now and most of the campers had already retreated to their tents. They sit by the dying fire at the center of the campsite, waiting for it to go out.
Namjoon’s fingers still on the pebble he had been absently turning over in his hand. “Not at all.” He does not do this out of embarrassment—there should never be any shame in having dreams—but to brace himself, the way there is silence before an exhale, or a calm before the storm. “I still want to manage museums in all the art capitals of the world.”
To no surprise, his declaration is met with silence. He was used to it by now, though. Peers and teachers often found his dreams lofty. While he had friends who shared similar aspirations, not many of them liked to listen to Namjoon go on about his career plans for hours on end.
Seriously Namjoon, get real.
All the art capitals? Isn’t that a bit too much? Even Professor Lee couldn’t achieve that.
Only a loonatic would want to be flung all over the world just to work their ass off in each place every damn time.
What about settling down? Buying a house? Having kids? And actual roots?
“Always reaching for the sky, aren’t you?”
“Hong Kong, Florence, Tokyo, San Francisco, Valencia, Rome, New York, Berlin…” Namjoon trails off because he can’t help but smile. He gives the answer a little thought. “Like a stalagmite, you could say.”
Seokjin hums in agreement, but Namjoon could tell his answer caught him off-guard. Then Seokjin says, “I’d rather be a stalactite.”
Namjoon looks at him curiously.
“You know how they’re formed by mineral precipitation dripping from the ceiling? They form first, then trickle down whatever crumbs they have left to feed their dongsaeng growing on the cave floor.”
Namjoon bursts out laughing. “ Dongsaeng, that’s a good one! Hoobae would have cut it, though.”
Seokjin raises an eyebrow and sneers, “ Hoobae, really? Shall I let you start calling you that from now on, hmm? Hoobae-nim? ” He exaggerates the last word. They laugh again.
DING!
Again, Seokjin is momentarily occupied with his phone. He and his girlfriend exchange a couple of messages, which make Seokjin smile. But after a while, Namjoon notices it fade away, so he doesn't change the subject. “And what happens when they finally meet?”
Seokjin finally sets down his phone to pick up the guitar he’s always carried with him on trips. At the same time Namjoon shifts a bit in his seat, and their shoulders slightly bump together.
A few more guitar chords and embers float through the night air for a final time. “A bond that endures time is formed. A stalagnate is formed.”