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Namjoon has been told that he looks too much into things, always tries to see a hidden meaning between the lines, between every stroke of a brush. He thinks it’s a blessing. Others call it a curse, though, so he tries to tone it down. A hard feat when it’s two in the morning and the lines on his laptop are starting to blend together, wiggling around the page like Mondrian’s Gray Tree. Maybe Namjoon really needs a break.
Maybe he needs a hug or a cup of coffee or even his sanity back. At least he is done for today. Namjoon works well under pressure, or so he likes to tell himself. It sounds like a good excuse as to why he started working on the paper the day before it’s due.
This week was a little hard on him, a little cold. Nothing that Namjoon hasn’t seen before, he just thinks that he deserves a small pick-me-up, like a trip to the sea, or he can go hiking, anywhere away from the city. Not now, though. He has classes in eleven hours. A trip to the convenience store will have to do.
Namjoon first noticed the store around two months ago, back when he didn’t have the weight of two unfinished essays and the looming tests on his shoulders. The place never closes, feels like an alternative dimension of too-strong fluorescent lights that make his eyes sting and unhealthy snacks. Namjoon has one very logical reason as to why that convenience store was superior to other stores. The cashier, simple and easy. Namjoon went there a grand total of six times at night, and every time he found the same guy standing behind the counter, welcoming Namjoon as he stumbles into the store at an ungodly hour looking like he hasn’t slept in four days, which in some cases was the truth.
He thinks he should probably stop doing that, rewarding himself this way for finishing his work. But Namjoon likes to immerse himself in art, like to ponder why every color was chosen in that way, why every line was drawn. And that boy is, in every meaning of the word, art. Namjoon wraps himself in his thickest coat, fixes his glasses, and he goes out.
It’s snowing today. The streets covered in white, white, white, and for once, the whole world reflects how Namjoon feels, light, floating, so small yet so big, a part of something, anything. He loves the cold, or more like he loves feeling warm, loves the weight of his coat on his shoulder, grounding, a gentle reminder of where he stands.
Namjoon enjoys going to the store at night more than at any other time of the day. He thinks it adds to the whole ambience, leaving there when the sun starts to rise, watching the orange and pink hues bloom in a blue sky.
The door makes no sound as Namjoon pushes it open. He doesn’t like to disturb quiet nights, feels like the smallest of sounds will end the mirage of tranquillity he is so desperately trying to create in his mind. The first step in the store always feels like a step into a new world. It always looks the same on the inside, as if time has long given up on it. Empty aisles, rows of products that have no business having all these varieties, harsh lighting with nowhere to escape to.
Soft tunes come out of the speakers. The cashier is humming along. His voice mingling with the song, dancing, twirling, bursting at the very top, covering the place in a dreamlike trance. The guy looks up, and Namjoon can see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he stops singing.
Namjoon raises his hand in a small wave, gives up halfway through and drops his hand. He moves straight away to the ramen aisle, cheeks red and eyes looking anywhere but at the boy behind the counter. He takes his time choosing the flavour, he takes his time getting an egg and a slice of cheese, before going back to pay. So far, Namjoon hasn’t been able to talk to the cute cashier, always flustered, always doubting himself, and so far, today looks like it will be like all the other six times he dropped by.
The boy scans his items and tells him his total. All around them, the place is so quiet, almost like nothing exists beyond the glass door, saving them from the cold. Namjoon pays, and the boy offers him a small smile, a gentle smile. Namjoon ducks his head and moves away. He thinks he sees everything a little more gentle, a little hazier when he is sleep-deprived, as if his mind is trying to drag him under the warm blanket of unconsciousness. He manages to catch the name on the tag this time. Taehyung. A pretty name for a pretty boy, his mind unhelpfully supplies.
Namjoon has an eye for details, which means that in the six times he went to the store he noticed a few things, mainly about the very same eyes that he can’t bring himself to meet. Maybe it is a little embarrassing, but Namjoon can wax poetry about Taehyung’s eyes alone, the long lashes and the mole beneath his right eye. Eyes that look up with so much warmth in them. Eyes that swallow Namjoon whole into a swirl of rich brown and glittering gold. He has thought about it before, about the possibility that Taehyung has always seemed so stunning, so ethereal, because Namjoon only ever sees him when the lack of sleep is getting to his head, when everything seems fuzzier, softer.
A part of him, though, believes that Taehyung will shine that bright at any time of the day, anywhere and everywhere.
A part of him tries to slow down. Hell, he just found out his name.
So instead, Namjoon tries to focus on everything other than him. He focuses on his own hands, clenched, unclenched, clenched, unclenched. He focuses on the screen of his phone, black, reflecting light, reflecting stories. He focuses on the ground beneath him, focuses on taking a breath and letting it fill his lungs. He lets his ramen cook and adds the egg and the cheese. He watches the bubbles slowly forming, watches them fade away when he turns off the machine.
Namjoon picks up his ramen and goes to sit on one of the stools placed along a long counter facing the glass wall. Except this time, he won’t be the only one sitting there. The boy, Taehyung, is already sitting there, a cup in his hand and his phone in the other.
Namjoon stands there, ramen cup in hands and tired eyes wide open. Taehyung looks up, looks at him. He turns around on his stool to face him and smiles.
“Hey.” And they had never actually talked before, and Namjoon looks at him and sees a sunflower reaching out to the sun. He knows it’s just a crush, that it’s unfair for the boy, how much Namjoon likes his voice and his little smile without even getting to know him.
So he comes closer, he sets his cup on the counter and sits beside him, before answering back with a small hey. He watches Taehyung’s face light up. They turn to look at the empty street in front of them.
“Do you ever sleep?” Taehyung laughs, doesn’t face him again. Namjoon thinks Taehyung laughs like Su Yu-Xin’s Sky is an Hourglass, with bold golden strokes.
“Sometimes.” He feels his own smile creeping up. They sit in silence for a while. Namjoon eating and Taehyung taking small sips from his cup.
The silence around them is comfortable, settling like fine dust, like the last snow getting lost in a vast sea of nothing but white. Namjoon’s glasses fog up from the steam. He hears Teahyung start humming again. It’s a beautiful tone, a tender tone, intertwining with the silence, embracing it rather than breaking it.
Namjoon doesn’t really know what to say, how to tell Taehyung about the frozen lake inside of him, how to tell him that it’s starting to thaw, small signs that the spring does come after winter with every note out of his mouth.
When he looks to his side, Taehyung is already looking at him, singing at him, to him. Taehyung ducks his head and stops his song. His cheeks red like the scarf that Namjoon’s grandmother made him two years ago, like handpicked strawberries and Namjoon’s favourite pen.
Taehyung looks at the cup in his hands, looks at his feet, looks Namjoon in the eyes and Namjoon’s lake is cracking, thin ice beneath his feet, and he doesn’t think he can take falling into the ice-cold water.
“I’m Taehyung.” The boy’s voice snaps Namjoon out of his trance, a pin falling to the ground in an empty room, so loud in the quiet night, wrapping around Namjoon, warm, kind, the moments before the sun rises and after the sun sets.
“Namjoon.” Namjoon is smiling this time, and Taehyung is smiling back at him, and now the too-strong lights feel just right, and the heavy weight on his chest feels bearable. Taehyung smiles like a flickering star, like late-night drives with the windows down and the smell of lavender, exhilarating, comforting, warm, warm, warm.
“Nice to meet you, Namjoon-ssi.” Namjoon would love to hear his name spill from those lips again and again and again.
“The snow looks beautiful tonight.” Taehyung looks back to the street before them. “Want to go out for a bit?”
“Won’t you get in trouble?”
Taehyung shakes his head, “I’ll ask the manager to look after the store while I’m gone. He always tells me to take it easy since we rarely get customers at times like this. What do you say? Want to go out for a little walk?”
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”
He gets up, extends his hand to Namjoon. Namjoon takes it and wonders where this will lead him.
The cold wind hits them with the first step out of the store. Namjoon feels like anything can happen tonight under the moonlight, feeling the snow beneath their feet, a lightness filling his chest with every breath that he takes. They walk side by side, shoulders almost touching.
Silence seems to like accompanying them. They don't really mind. The city at night is quite refreshing, quite different from what Namjoon is used to. For a moment, he doesn’t have classes today. For a moment, he doesn’t have to think about what the future holds, what the universe has planned for him. For a moment, he can just exist as Kim Namjoon, nothing less, nothing more. For a moment, he can take his breath. And he will stretch this moment as far as he can.
Taehyung starts humming again. It's the same song from the store, Namjoon wonders if there's a meaning behind it.
"You're cute, Namjoon-ssi," Taehyung says, then carries on humming as if he didn't say anything. Namjoon smiles at him, lets himself get lost in Taehyung's voice, doesn't overthink the comment, refusing to let anything disturb the quietness settling in his heart. It’s been so long since he has felt this way, since he was able to slow down.
They arrive at a bus stop, the sheltered benches rescued from the snow. Taehyung sits right away, motioning for Namjoon to sit beside him. Talking to Taehyung comes naturally, just like their silence does.
Taehyung tells him about himself, that he likes strawberries, that he shares the same birth year as his best friend. He tells him that he is a fashion major preparing for his graduation project. He even shows Namjoon his designs. His friends model for him and Namjoon can see talent shine through blurry pictures taken in messy rooms, can see passion in the eyes talking about different fabrics and the latest fashion trends.
In turn, Namjoon tells him about his bonsai, about the paper he just finished writing. He tells him about his favourite coffee shop and his favourite classes. Namjoon fumbles over his words, but Taehyung listens intently, waits for him to gather his thoughts, waits for his mouth to catch up to his brain. He listens to it all with a smile on his face, his eyes never leaving Namjoon.
When their conversation fades into the background, when they are both looking at the white streets, Taehyung starts humming again. Namjoon can't help but look at him. Taehyung looks so, so calm. His eyes closed, pretty eyelashes fluttering slightly. Namjoon feels like Taehyung's voice is melting him from the inside out. Taehyung cracks an eye open, sees Namjoon looking at him, blushes and covers his face.
He stays like this for a while, stilling his humming, just burying his face in his hand. A moment passes, and then two. Taehyung pulls his hands away, starts playing with a button on his coat, twisting and turning.
"Why do you always come at night?" Taehyung asks, and Namjoon for once tries to not read into it, knows that raising his hopes means he might fall.
"Ah, no reason, really.” Namjoon scratches his neck sheepishly. “That's where life takes me, I guess."
"Well," Taehyung is still not looking at him, as if he found a new fascination with the button between his fingers, "At least I get to see you."
"And- and I would love to see you more Namjoon-ssi." Taehyung looks at him, Namjoon sees open fields, sees trees stretching up and leaves of every color, thinks his bonsai would love to meet Taehyung one day.
"Namjoon-ssi sounds so formal." Namjoon scrunches up his nose and Taehyung laughs, the sound as melodic as his humming earlier. "You can call me hyung if you'd like to. If you're comfortable."
"Okay, Namjoon hyung." And he sounds so much happier now Namjoon can't help but smile too. "Let's head back." Taehyung stands up and offers Namjoon his hand. Namjoon takes it, this time, he knows where it's leading him. Maybe spring is coming sooner than he thought.
The sun isn't up yet, but the sky is starting to lighten a little, a few moments between darkness and light. They arrive at the store in no time. Taehyung's manager waves at them with a kind smile from behind the glass.
Taehyung drags Namjoon away from the glass wall so that the manager can't see them. They stand there for a couple of seconds, just the two of them and the sky above them.
“Hyung." They are standing so close, and Namjoon isn't that sure of himself anymore. He wants to hear his voice more often, he wants to stare at the younger's eyes forever. He wants, and he wants, and he wants.
But he knows better, knows not to rush things.
"Can you wait here for a while?"
Namjoon nods, watches as Taehyung runs inside, disappearing behind the many shelves in the store.
And maybe he needs this, a moment for himself to sort his thoughts out. He feels a little fragile tonight, but he will blame it on the exhaustion settling in his bones. Namjoon tries to ignore just how much he dreads the morning, dreads going back to his classes and responsibilities. He made himself a bubble of safety and warmth and a soothing hum, and he’s not ready to pop it yet.
When Taehyung comes back, he is holding a cup in his hand and napkins in the other. He gives both to Namjoon with a quiet for you and a kiss to his cheek.
"I have to go back to work now,” Taehyung whispers, his words tainted the same red as his cheeks. He backs away towards the door giving Namjoon one last smile and a soft bye, hyung.
The sky is so much lighter now. Namjoon, too, feels lighter than ever before. He looks at the coffee in his hand, feels its warmth on his hand and fingertips. The napkins have ink on them. A phone number and terribly cute doodles. A smile makes its way to his face.
He feels nothing but warmth filling him, filling him until he’s bursting, all sunlight and sweet lullabies. Maybe he won’t fall. Maybe the frozen lake melted, maybe it’s as warm as a summer day. When Namjoon walks home that day, it's with the promise of more to come.