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If Namjoon had believed in God, he would have cursed the hell out of Him.
He was on his way to Wonju when his car suddenly decided to, well, forget how to be a car and have a mental breakdown in the middle of nowhere. After a few futile attempts of starting and restarting it, Namjoon gave up, slamming his head against the steering wheel.
He didn’t even bother opening the hood and try to figure out what the problem was—he knew shit about engines, he might actually fuck it up even more. Hell, he just learned how to drive last year. Maybe he should’ve taken the bus instead. Why did he think driving alone outside of Seoul was a good idea in the first place?
The night started to fall, and Namjoon was getting desperate. He searched and searched and searched, but the map said the nearest workshop was fifteen kilometers away. There’s no way he could push his car all the way there without passing out first.
And then, as the cherry on top, his phone ran out of battery and died.
Great. Just, fucking great.
There must be a God, Namjoon thought. And He must have a personal vendetta against him.
There’s a light.
Namjoon had been sitting in his car for twenty minutes now, head on the wheel, wishing he had spent more time learning about cars than quantum physics. And then like an answer from Heaven—existence still debatable—a truck drove into sight.
In a jolt, he got out of the car, flailing his arms to get the driver’s attention. The driver seemed to notice, for the truck slowed down and stopped right beside his car.
“You lost?” the driver said.
“No, um,” Namjoon glanced back at his car. “My car just stopped. No idea why. Could you take me to the nearest shop?”
The driver, young and doe-eyed, chuckled and said, “Lucky for you, I work at one.” He leaned over and opened the door. “Hop in.”
Namjoon had read enough books and watched enough movies to know that there’s a chance the guy might be a serial killer, a cannibal, even, and he might be taken to have his organs removed and his skin hung in someone’s living room. But fuck if he cared. He just wanted his car fixed.
“Jungkook,” the driver said. “And you are?”
Namjoon stared at his bunny smile a little too long before answering, “Namjoon.”
Jungkook nodded. “What brought you here?”
“I, uh, I was heading to Wonju, actually.”
Jungkook’s expression shifted. “Oh, I thought you were going to town.”
“Town?”
“You know, The Town? The one I’m taking you to?”
Namjoon shook his head. There was nothing on the map. It was supposed to be a long stretch of road between two towns, and the next one was still at least ten kilometers away.
And then he saw it. A green sign on the left side of the road that said Welcome. It didn’t say where to, though. Namjoon wondered why, and he noticed Jungkook didn’t mention a name either, strictly referring to it as The Town.
Namjoon’s mouth hung agape in awe as they drove past blocks of one-storied buildings. The entire place reminded him of old Hollywood movie sets, except that they’re in modern day South Korea, unless he had accidentally fell into a timeslip.
Had he?
Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight before him. Namjoon quickly closed his eyes when he realized he must have looked like an idiot. “Where… Where are we?” he asked.
“Told you. The Town.”
“What town?”
Jungkook shrugged. “Dunno. Doesn’t have a name.”
“Nobody ever thought of naming it? You know, for convenience sake?”
“Nobody ever stayed long enough to care.”
Namjoon decided he was going to call it Idle Town. He thought of naming it Liminal Town, but it was quite a mouthful, and Jungkook looked at him like he just explained the whole theory of blackhole, so he settled for something simpler.
He learned that although the town had been around for ages, it had a permanent resident of exactly zero: no one had ever stayed for more than a year. Most people only stayed for days, sometimes weeks. They came to get what they need—a weekend getaway, a good fuck, some time to heal from a heartbreak, or simply a place to run away to—and they left. Simple as that.
“What do you need?” he had asked Jungkook.
Jungkook rolled up his sleeve, revealing the track marks on his arm. “To be sober.”
Namjoon was surprised he’d show them to a random guy he picked up on the streets; He didn’t ask any further.
Jungkook told him he’d take care of his car, and that he’d take a look at it and let him know if there were any updates. In the meantime, he suggested Namjoon to find a place to stay the night.
“There’s a motel down the street to the left if you just wanna stay for a couple of days. The lodge is if you wanna stay longer,” Jungkook had explained.
After getting a room at the motel, Namjoon decided to take a walk around the block. This town reeked of enigma, and Namjoon loved enigmas. It wasn’t like any other town he’d been in. Had he not heard people speaking Korean here and there, he would’ve thought he’d been teleported to the West.
There’s a café almost right across the motel, and on the same strip a flower shop. Next to it was a small convenience store that seemed to sell mostly cigarettes and condoms.
Namjoon wondered where these people came from, how long they’d been here, how much longer they were planning on staying. Some of them seemed to have a job—Jungkook was one, and of course the people working at those stores he walked by.
But nobody ever stayed long enough to care, huh?
Namjoon kept walking, made a left turn on the intersection and found himself in front of a diner. It said Jin in bright neon lights and the wall was cotton candy pink. Fueled by his hunger, Namjoon pushed the glass door open.
The first thing that caught Namjoon’s eyes when he stepped inside was the man standing behind the counter. He almost gasped audibly at the sight.
Handsome didn’t even begin to describe him. His hair was the color of the galaxy: purple and blue and a hint of bleached blond, somehow melding perfectly with his veins. Namjoon had never met a man so breathtaking before.
Ethereal. That’s the word Namjoon was looking for.
“Sir?” the man called. “Are you gonna stand there all night or can I take your order?”
Namjoon snapped out of his little reverie and stepped away from the door, looking flustered. The man chuckled.
“I suggest you start with picking a booth,” the man said, taking his pen from behind his ear.
Namjoon sat by the window and the man followed suit. He could feel his heart racing as the man walked closer, so he cleared his throat over and over again to hide his nervousness.
“May I recommend some honey lemon tea for your throat, Sir?”
“Uh,” Namjoon was about to say no when he realized he couldn’t. Not to that smile. “Sure, one of that, please.”
The man scribbled something on his note and when he looked up again, Namjoon was still staring at him with his mouth agape. “Sir,” he said with a smile, “the menu’s down there.” He pointed at the table.
“Oh, yeah, of course, um,” Namjoon grabbed the menu, clearing his throat louder. “I’ll have the croque madame, please.” And your hand in marriage but that’s a subject for another day.
Namjoon swore the man was suppressing a giggle, but it could also just be his mind playing tricks on him. “One honey lemon tea and one croque madame, coming right up,” the man finished writing on his pad. Namjoon thought this was it. The gorgeous man would walk away from his table and he’d be able to breathe properly again.
But he thought too soon, because before the man could leave, he winked—he fucking winked—leaving Namjoon with a near cardiac arrest on his seat.
“He’s staring,” Hoseok said, peeking from the kitchen.
“I know, my back’s on fire.”
“Did you wink at him?”
Jin groaned.
“You did.” Hoseok grinned. “You nasty—”
“It’s habit, okay?”
“Bad habit.” Hoseok shook his head. “Can’t just do that, hyung. Can’t just go around stealing people’s hearts.” He stole another glance at their guest. “And breaths, apparently.”
“You’re talking as if I’m doing it on purpose.” Jin huffed.
“Aren’t you?”
“No?”
“But you do enjoy the attention.”
Jin rolled his eyes, suppressing a snicker. He tore off a page of his notepad and slammed it in front of Hoseok. “Get cooking.”
That night, Namjoon couldn’t sleep.
After getting a text from Jungkook telling him his car would need a couple of days to fix, he stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, the man at the diner and his purple hair swirling in his mind.
He should’ve asked for his name. Should’ve asked for his number. Should’ve manned up and talked to him a little longer. But what else could one do in the face of such beauty but stand frozen and admire?
Not much, really.
It’s not like it was Namjoon’s first encounter with beautiful men. Being a music producer, he had met a fair share of men and women ready to throw themselves at him. Some for exchange of his service, others simply for a good time. But never in his entire adult life had he ever lost sleep over a pretty face. But then again nothing he had ever seen before could come close to said pretty face.
It wasn’t until ass crack dawn that fatigue got the best of him and he slowly drifted off to sleep, but the thoughts haunted him even in his dreams.
Namjoon doesn’t eat breakfasts.
Being in the music industry, his sleeping schedule is all messed up and after working all night long, the first thing he would reach for is coffee. So it was truly a rare sight to have buttermilk pancakes in front of him at eight thirty in the morning.
Well, he didn’t work last night and he was feeling rather hungry, Namjoon tried to justify himself. But in reality, he just wanted to see the purple-haired man again.
He wasn’t the one taking orders this morning, or at least not the only one—he did take Namjoon’s. There were two other waiters going around booths, bringing orders and refilling coffees. Seemed like it was their first rush hour of the day.
“Something wrong with the pancake, Sir?”
Namjoon almost choked on his coffee when he saw the man standing by his table. “N-No,” he stuttered, putting his cup down. “Nothing.”
“You seem to have been staring at it for,” the man checked his watch, “about half an hour now. It’s best eaten warm, you know.”
Namjoon didn’t even realize he’d only been sipping his coffee for the past thirty minutes, out of habit and because his focus was somewhere else and he drinks when he’s nervous.
The man eyed at the now empty cup. “I’ll get you some more, be right back.”
Before Namjoon could protest, the man is already back with a kettle and refilled his cup with more black coffee. He muttered a thank you without looking up, too scared to meet his eyes. He swore he could hear the man suppressing a giggle. Again.
“Can I get you anything else, Sir?”
Oh what the hell. He’d already made a fool out of himself anyway. Might as well go big or go home.
“Your number, please?”
This time, the man giggled for real. Namjoon wished the ground would split open and just swallow him whole, especially when the man shook his head.
But just when Namjoon was about to crumble in dejection and embarrassment, the man said, “I don’t have one.” He pointed his thumb at the counter. “There’s a landline there but I don’t have a mobile, but you can come by anytime.”
This time, Namjoon looked up to meet his eyes. Either the man was genuine or he had gotten the question so many times he had rehearsed how to reject people without hurting their feelings.
“Jin hyung!” someone shouted from the kitchen. Jin turned his head around and rolled his eyes.
“Can’t go ten minutes without me, I see,” he said almost to himself. “Well then,” he smiled at Namjoon, “enjoy your breakfast—”
“Namjoon,” he blurted out. “It’s Namjoon.”
Jin smiled. Namjoon’s breath got caught in his throat. “Pleasure meeting you, Namjoon-ssi.”
Saturday nights are for disco, or so Namjoon had been told.
He had asked Jungkook where he could get a drink because he couldn’t seem to find a bar anywhere in town despite having walked around it at least five times now, and to his surprise, Jungkook gave a direction to Jin’s.
“Isn’t that the diner?” Namjoon asked in confusion.
“Only from seven to ten. The bar opens after midnight.”
So once again, Namjoon found himself in front of the big neon sign and pink exterior of the diner, only this time at half past midnight. Not that he minded. He would jump at any opportunity to see Jin again.
The diner was an entirely different place at night. Gone were the red booths and metallic tables, and the tiles had been replaced by dance floors. The counter was now a bar, and the lucid white lights were now five different colors. Namjoon had no idea how they could possibly redecorate the entire place in just two hours, but he wasn’t about to start questioning how Jin ran his business.
Namjoon pushed past the dancing bodies, shouting his ‘excuse me’s through the sea of drunken people to get to the bar. Behind the counter, Jin was wiping the wine glasses, but his eyes were fixed on his new customer, a smirk plastered on his face.
“What can I get you tonight, Sir?” His voice was sweet as caramel, making Namjoon’s head spin in intoxication before even a single drop of alcohol touched his tongue.
“One daiquiri, please,” he managed to say without stuttering. A clear improvement.
Jin cocked an eyebrow. “Starting sweet, are we?”
Namjoon didn’t think he’d ever get bored looking at the man in front of him. Tonight, he’s clad in all black, perhaps trying not to draw attention to himself but failing miserably. His galaxy hair—now pushed back—stood out even in the dark, and it was kind of hard to blend in with the background when he had the face that blurred out everything else around him.
He was, quite literally, Namjoon’s focal point.
“I’m not gonna vanish, you know?” Jin leaned forward, placing the glass of daiquiri on the table. “You don’t have to keep an eye on me.”
Namjoon felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, the air suddenly too warm. He cleared his throat and sipped his drink in a rush to calm his nerves. Maybe with alcohol in his system he could finally look at Jin in the eyes and carry a conversation like a normal human being.
Like the great Kim Namjoon usually did.
“Stunning.”
Jin turned his head at Namjoon’s sudden remark, and Namjoon wanted nothing but to slap himself and dematerialize. Really? Stunning? That’s the best he could come up with?
“I suppose that’s for me?” Jin flashed a grin. “I’m flattered, Namjoon-ssi, but you’re still paying for that daiquiri.”
“O-Of course, I didn’t mean to—”
Jin laughed, and even though the sound was drowned in the loud music, Namjoon reveled in the sight of him scrunching his eyes and nose and his face turning bright red. “I was pulling your leg,” he finally said. “God, you’re so cute.”
Did he— Did he just call Namjoon cute?
Had it came from any other mouth, Namjoon would question their choice of adjective. He was a lot of things, but cute wasn’t one. Had it been any other voice, had it been any other person.
But this was Jin. The man with galaxy for hair and gravity in his eyes. The man who had kept him up at night and for once not have his head filled with work. Namjoon would take anything from him and cherish it like it’s gold, put it on record and later on replay.
So he’d take cute, he’d take cute any day as long as it was Jin’s word.
“What are you here for?” Jin asked, interrupting Namjoon’s train of thoughts.
“My car died on the way to Wonju,” Namjoon said, taking another sip of his drink. “Jungkook’s taking care of it so in the meantime…” he let his sentence trailed off.
“I see,” Jin nodded before returning to wiping more glasses.
Namjoon watched the condensation on his glass, his fingers tapping on the wooden bar top before he finally mustered his courage to say, “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Hopefully it isn’t why I don’t have a mobile?”
Namjoon chuckled. “Okay, maybe a couple of things.”
Jin shrugged. “Go ahead.”
“What is this place?”
Jin’s hands suddenly stopped working. Carefully, he put the glass down and leaned over the bar with his hands spread on the table. “How much do you know?”
“About, nothing? Except for the fact that this town grants wishes or something. Told you my car died; wasn’t even planning on coming here.”
Jin scoffed. “Did Jungkook tell you that?” Namjoon nodded. “Well this ain’t a wish-granting town, for starters.”
“Then what is it?”
Jin took a deep breath, his voice dropping a few decibel as he said, “Do you believe in fate, Namjoon-ssi?”
“Isn’t that what losers believe to make themselves feel better?” Namjoon didn’t know where the sudden burst of confidence came from. Maybe because it’s his territory now, the talk about fate and beliefs.
“That’s one way to look at it,” Jin smiled, but it seemed more like a leer. “Do you believe in its existence, though?”
“I study quantum physics.”
“Meaning?”
“I believe our fate is not written in the stars.”
Jin hummed. “Maybe not in the stars, no. But how about in your veins? Written in your genes?”
“As I said,” Namjoon downed the last of his daiquiri, “I study quantum physics.”
Two glasses of Gimlet and Sazerac later, Namjoon was in a completely different headspace. Gone was the fear of making a fool out of himself. This was Kim Namjoon, raw and unfiltered.
“That’s stupid,” he slurred. “If everything is predestined, then can you really call your life your own? Aren’t you just a puppet in someone else’s little stage play?”
“Ah yes, but isn’t that what you people call life? The stage play?” The corner of Jin’s lips twitched. He’s entertained. “Besides, it’s not like I meddle with everything…”
“What?” Namjoon couldn’t quite catch Jin’s last sentence.
“Nothing,” Jin quickly dismissed it with a smile. “Go home, Namjoon-ssi. You’ve had enough drinks.”
Jin was right. He was half a glass away from doing a slam poem, and maybe it’s time to call it a night. But he wasn’t done with Jin, and he didn’t want to waste the alcohol on sleep when he could use it to talk.
“One more question before I go,” Namjoon said, his eyes bleary. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
Jin was, in fact, free the following night. Namjoon had found a note on his phone that said pick Jin up at ten that morning, something he suspected Jin had written in case he blacked out and forgot what he had said the night before. He appreciated the sentiment.
He remembered Jungkook telling him the diner closed at ten and the disco opened at midnight, so he had about two hours to take him out. Yeah, he could work with that.
The thing was, no other place was open at this hour, so they ended up sitting on the dining table on the diner’s second floor—Jin’s living quarter—sipping on a glass of Baileys and milk. The diner slash club was the only establishment that was open twenty four seven, which brought Namjoon to the question: “When do you sleep?”
“Never.”
Namjoon studied his face, looking for any sign that he might be joking. He wasn’t.
Jin seemed to notice his confusion, so he elaborated, “I don’t need sleep.” Of course, this only deepened the crease between Namjoon’s brows.
“Everyone needs sleep. Even Yoongi and his insomniac ass sleeps at least four times a week.”
“Yoongi?”
“A friend. Don’t mind him.” Namjoon waved his hand dismissively. “How do you not sleep?”
“Told you, I don’t need it.” Jin sipped on his drink. “Only humans sleep.”
Jin was expecting the other man to react somehow—choke on his drink, shout what the fUck, tell him he’s lying—but Namjoon was silent. It’s like he knew all along, that there was something inhuman about him. Perhaps his looks was a dead giveaway. Or perhaps it’s the way he talked about the universe like he had experienced it firsthand—he had. Either way, Namjoon didn’t seem fazed.
“And you are?” Namjoon finally said after a stretch of nothing.
“Ancient.”
Fate, Namjoon learned, is one hell of a stubborn force. It is also drop dead gorgeous, hilarious, and has a sick music taste.
It was the longest two hours of Namjoon’s life, and he had a feeling Jin had something to do with it. He was given the honor to choose from Jin’s vinyl collection and they had talked and talked and talked: Jin told him about the creation of the universe and Namjoon reveled at how different it was than what he had read in books; Namjoon told him about the creation of music, how the magic happened in his three by three studio.
“Why quantum mechanics?” Jin had asked.
“The same reason why everyone should learn something about art, and music, and philosophy,” Namjoon answered, “Because it shows the very best of what humanity is capable of.”
Jin looked at him with wonder, dazzled by the way Namjoon’s mind works and how, despite having trouble talking to him in their first few meetings, he had his way with words that made someone as old as Jin think twice.
Humans were such a bore, but Namjoon felt like his equal.
“How old are you?” Namjoon had asked.
“Thirty two.”
“How long have you been thirty two?”
Jin grinned. “Good question,” he said, but he never gave an answer.
When the music stopped, it was as if there’s a force drawing them closer and closer until their lips met. It was, in short, divine. Like seeing a hundred different stars exploding into supernovas all at once in the back of his eyelids. Like breathing in a lungful of air after being underwater for so long.
Like being alive.
Namjoon moaned at the sensation of lips against lips, allowing Jin to slip his tongue inside, tasting the remnants of Baileys and milk on Namjoon’s tongue, sweet and intoxicating and leaving him wanting for more.
“Does this mean,” Namjoon said as he pulled away to take a breath, “I was destined to meet you?”
Jin flashed a cryptic smile before leaning into Namjoon’s ear. “The thing about being Fate itself,” he whispered, “is that I can bend and twist it however way I want.”
“Hyung,” Namjoon breathed out, holding Jin by the waist as he nibbled on the younger’s ear.
“Hm?”
“Take responsibility for my car.”
“Your car’s all good,” Jungkook said through the phone. “Let me know when you’re coming to fetch it.”
Namjoon groaned, having just woke up when Jungkook called. “Thanks, man. Around one, maybe? What time is it?”
“Eight something,” another voice drawled from beside him. “Morning.”
“Are you with someone?” Jungkook’s ears perked up.
“None of your business.” Namjoon grinned. “See you at one.”
“Mm, have fun until then.”
“That lil shit,” Namjoon hung up. “Morning, beautiful.” He planted a kiss on Jin’s forehead. “Slept well?”
“I don’t sleep, remember?”
“Then what’d you do while I was asleep?”
“Watch you sleep.”
Namjoon feigned disgust. “That’s creepy as shit.”
“Can’t help it. You’re adorable.” Jin bopped the tip of Namjoon’s nose.
Namjoon rolled over to his side, catching Jin’s wrist before he could bop his cheek. He wriggled and pout in protest, but Namjoon only laughed, revealing his deep set dimples.
“I’ll be going to Wonju for two days,” Namjoon stated.
“Mhm?”
“Come with me?”
Jin shook his head weakly, freeing his hand from Namjoon’s grip. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Joon-ah, in case you haven’t noticed,” Seokjin’s fingers trailed down the side of Namjoon’s jawline, “I am the living, breathing force of this town.”
“Are you sure you’re not just turning me down politely?” Namjoon frowned.
Jin chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss on Namjoon’s cheek. “Oh sweetie,” he said tenderly, “if only it was that easy.”
“So,” Jungkook said, grinning from ear to ear. “Fun night?”
Namjoon shot him a deadly glare. “What are you, fifteen?” Jungkook chortled.
“Good as new,” he handed Namjoon the key to his car. “You leaving today?”
Namjoon nodded, almost reluctantly. He had places to be, a home to come back to, and yet he had to leave his destiny behind. If only he didn’t have to leave so soon.
“See you when I see you, I guess?” Jungkook said, raising his fist for Namjoon to bump. “Drive safe, man.”
Namjoon returned to the motel and loaded his stuff, his chest heavy as he dragged his feet back into the car. One more stop to make before he left. Oh how he’s gonna miss the neon sign and the cotton candy wall.
Jin was already waiting for him when Namjoon pulled up in front of the diner. Somehow it only made it harder.
For a while, they dwelled in the silence. Namjoon had pulled Jin into an embrace, gently stroking his purple and blue and bleached blond hair with his fingers. Whatever needed to be said had been said. The only thing left unsaid was goodbye, but they didn’t want this to be a goodbye.
“Promise me you’ll come back?” Jin finally said.
“Only if you’ll be here when I do.”
Jin snorted. “Joon-ah, I am literally bound to this shithole.”
Namjoon hummed. “Then I promise.”
“You better keep it,” Jin buried his face in the crook of Namjoon’s neck, “or I swear to God I will twist your fate.”
Namjoon smiled, bending down to kiss Jin’s pouty lips. “Twist it all you want, Angel.”
As long as it leads me back to you.