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“You know Hyung, I think it’s time to buy another binder.”
Namjoon looked up from carefully sorting the newest haul. In his hand lay a couple of unopened card packs—newly bought from a Comiket event a few days ago. Taehyung’s shoulder rose slightly, as he stuffed another mouthful of chips, the orange dust of cheese powder scattering across the duvet.
“I mean, with how fast you’re restocking your cards these days,” he gestures to the mess on the table, “that will fill up real soon.”
He’s right. The resounding silence was then punctuated by the sharp tear of plastic as Namjoon resumed the task. “Well, Tae, if ever that time comes, you know what to do, right?”
A boxy smile bloomed on Taehyung’s lips. With the way he bounced on the bed with uninhibited joy, making it easy to forget that he was a freshman - not a ten year old.. “You bet, Hyung! I know just the place to buy good quality VaultX..” He’s a surprisingly savvy bargain hunter. And for hobbyists like them, it was a lifesaver.
Saturdays were Namjoon and Taehyung’s designated ‘sibling’ day. Taehyung, despite his dorm being way across the Liberal Arts campus, usually barged uninvited before sunrise. He’d let himself in using a spare key and drop unceremoniously on Namjoon’s sleeping form. He’d stay there a dead weight till the hyung yielded (or woke up from a nightmare of someone suffocating him). Namjoon, despite the early hour and potentially disgruntled roommate, couldn’t find it in his heart to ignore him.
Surviving a political science program, even more as a junior, wasn’t a walk in the park. The political economy sub-major proved to be a far more complicated discipline than anticipated. While he truly loved the advocacy, there were moments where he was strongly tempted to pitch the textbooks out the window, for the sheer sin of incomprehensibility. An IQ of 148 - often lauded growing up - felt less of a gift than a pressure when faced with the sheer uphill climb of the degree.
Perhaps this was a factor for indulging the youngest. Their brotherly bond was resilient, however childish it may be at times; there was just something about Taehyung’s attachment he simply couldn’t bear to dismiss. The youngest Kim brother never adhered to normality and could always be counted on for random ideas that usually sent Namjoon reeling from the delightful uniqueness of it all. He remembered one instance during an awkward teenage year: A promise to go to the carnival—something genuinely forgotten but nevertheless regrettable—was overshadowed by the crush of a school project. Taehyung didn’t get angry—he rarely held grudges, a truly endearing quality. But the sadness that clung to him lingered for days, and Namjoon had to endure the guilt watching the kid move through the house with slumped shoulders and glassy eyes.
“He’s an open book, Namjoon-ah.” Jin stated flatly, not even looking up from his Nintendo DS. “Don’t make me get the fly swatter. Go fix it before he goes mute.” It wasn’t a request - it was a directive, delivered with the authority of the oldest brother who’d seen better days. That day, Namjoon learned that he’d rather put up with any tantrum than witness that heartbreaking kicked puppy look. Regardless, it was a lesson hard won, serving to cement their already tight bond. Tae’s escapades, though chaotic and unpredictable, were something Namjoon would eternally be grateful for. It helped him break the rigid routines of the pressure cooker they call college.
“Oh! Is that a 151 art rare Snorlax series?” Tae pops up behind Namjoon as the latter sorted the cards by set number. “How come you always get the nice ones?”Picking it up with practiced care, the Scarlet and Violet Snorlax gleamed multicolor as he examined the card.
Today was a similar day: Pokemon day, as Taehyung fondly branded it. Last week’s local Comiket convention was a black hole. They ended up spending way beyond their weekly budget - a money burn that had them enduring Jin’s irate rap for a good hour. Still, the scolding was a small price to pay. They came home beaming with no regrets, carrying a bag stuffed with cards, a second hand Scarlet and Violet game pack, a couple of comic books and two Generation 4 blind boxes. With weekdays preoccupied with college, the grand sorting of the haul was a task reserved for the weekend.
“It takes a lucky hand Taehyung-ah. It’s not my fault you’re a magnet for duplicates.”
The silence that followed was suspicious. Namjoon, honed by years of sibling warfare, whirled around only to see Taehyung pinching the card between pointer fingers and thumbs along the sides. The card faced the floor, positioned to be folded in half like a table napkin.
One thing he also learned early? Kid was a sore loser and would follow through with threats like a seasoned villain. The chaos that ensued wasn’t a fight, in as much as a masterclass in mixed martial arts.
“Get your untamed gremlin paws off that! You'll depreciate it!” He yelped, snagging nothing but air when Taehyung sidestepped away.
“No! You have enough shiny cards!” faster than a cat avoiding water, Taehyung sprinted for the door, the card clutched like a sacred plunder. Namjoon was quicker. With a well-practiced lunge, he grabbed Taehyung’s collar, lassoed his brother's ankle and wrapped long legs around his torso like a human boa constrictor. Both crumpled on the floor with a solid thud.
“Go raid Jin hyung’s cabinet instead!” Namjoon growled, trying to wrestle the card free.
“Are you kidding? I’ll be hit with the fly swatter before I can even cross the room!”
As much as they were polar opposites, Pokemon was one of their common grounds. They grew up bonding over consoles, spending entire weekends trading, trying to complete their Pokédex and engaging in competitive speedruns. Nobody ever came close to Jin’s record, though. There was something diabolical with the way gaming ran in his blood - a talent he relished to rub on their faces upon every opportunity. Oh, they loved Jin fiercely. But Namjoon lost count of the many times they ganged up against the eldest - a fight usually ending with an autograph of the fly swatter on their legs.
His burly frame guaranteed that the fight would last no longer than a song. Taehyung, lanky as he was, was left heaving on the floor from the sheer effort. With Snorlax carefully secured in the binder, Namjoon stretched his aching limbs with a groan, looking out the window to rest his eyes. It was already late afternoon, the orange hues of the sunset painting a lovely color over the campus grounds. In a few hours, the curfew bell would chime pushing everyone back into the grind of weekly agendas. At least Wednesday wouldn’t be so bad. He found himself hiding a smile with his thumb. The weekly literature club sessions were one of his few bright spots for quite some time now.
“Hyung, I want blueberry cheesecake.”
Whatever pleasant thought he had was thrown out the window. His attention snapped back to the starfish sprawled down the floor, staring at the ceiling with a signature vacant stare - lights on, nobody home.
A fond sigh escaped Namjoon. He reached for his hoodie. "Come on, then. Cafe it is."
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“So, is the literature club still going strong? This is your third year, right?” Taehyung asked, casually patting the bulky binder he insisted on carrying. His explanation? Something about "verifying Namjoon's photographic memory of Pokémon serial numbers." Namjoon simply nodded; he’d stopped questioning Taehyung's rationale eons ago.
“Yup. We’re doing well.” The brief mention of the club (and the faces he associated with it) brought a crinkle to his eyes. “We had four new members this year.” With the increase in number, maybe they can start planning for a monthly trivia night - just a fun breather activity for stressed college students.
Despite the stereotype of people with an IQ as his, Namjoon considered himself a perpetual student. He mostly kept to himself, but he had a keen interest in the world - drawn to explore anything that genuinely piqued interest. Learning things for him was a joy; he liked to go out and gather insights from different fields fueled by pure curiosity. His love for pop culture, including Pokemon, stemmed from this passion.
One field of study he found worth exploring was literature. It started with Dostoevsky’s The Possessed. There was something compelling about the topic of politics and morality that stirred something in him, leaving him hungry for more and starting the rabbit hole of books, authors, and words. Thus, it was no surprise that joining the literature club became one of his immediate priorities upon acceptance in the program.
“Do you ever talk about Pokemon there?”
Namjoon hummed, his hand grasping Taehyung’s shirt, pulling him back onto the center of the pathway. “Sometimes, pop culture is a general topic - comic books, graphic novels etc… But it’s not exactly franchise-specific, Taehyung-ah.”
“That sounds boring.” Taehyung whined, scrunching his nose. “Nobody else is obsessed like we are? I think it would be amazing to dissect Pokemon lore with you guys. I bet they have brilliant insights! I know! Maybe I could - ”
Taehyung’s monologue dissolved into thin air when he registered Namjoon's absence by his side. With an almost comical jolt, like a dog sensing a squirrel, he spun around. There was his hyung, stride slowing considerably, eyes fixed intently a far distance. Tracing his gaze, a lone figure on the far corner caught Tae’s eyes.
“Hey hyung. Is she one of your club members?” He tugged Namjoon's sleeve, pulling him from his quiet contemplation.
Far across the park at a weathered wooden picnic table was a woman hunched over a book. The sprawling maple tree sheltering her from the setting sun dappled her in shifting patterns of amber and shade. But even from this distance, Namjoon could discern the weary slump of her shoulders and the way her hand repeatedly raked through her unkempt hair. He watched her reach for a coffee cup, drain its last few drops, then slowly slump forward onto the open pages in utter surrender.
He knew that feeling. Exactly that feeling. Three years ago, he’d been that exact slump, buried in a philosophy textbook on a bench just like this. A shadow draped over him, and a soft voice asked, "Demian’s a rough one, huh? Here. Maybe some sugar will help." He'd looked up to see a girl offering a half eaten bag of gummy bears. He must have had a comical look of surprise because she laughed instinctively before claiming a spot across him.
“Oh, pardon me. You’re part of the club too right?” the bright eyed girl asked “Figured you’re also a freshman.” her smile beamed as she extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. I'm -”
“Y/N,” Namjoon affirmed, as he remembered the first spark from that unexpected kindness.. “Our club’s resident secretary.”
The warmth of the memory bloomed in his chest, a pleasant hum in the veins as he was fixed on her figure. But while his gaze was still lost in the memory, an explosive burst of motion tore at the periphery of his vision. A blur of limbs and flapping clothing shot forward, crossing the wide expanse of grass towards the maple tree. Namjoon's mind, still pleasantly disoriented, struggled to process it until the distinct sight of the binder held triumphantly above the head like a battle axe slammed the realization home:
Taehyung.
Son of a -
"KIM TAEHYUNG! " The roar boomed across the field as he broke into a frantic sprint against time. He need not guess that Taehyung - naively blind to the complex threads of his hyung's heart - instantly related Y/N, a "club member," to his earlier fascination with dissecting complex topics. He already foresaw the disaster: every second a fresh nail hammered into the coffin of his guarded three year admiration. And he would be damned if Y/N’s impression of him would be—
“Noona!”
Too late.
The crack of the binder on the picnic table resounded like a gunshot. It didn't just echo; it reverberated, startling her horrifically. Her head snapped up enough for a whiplash nearly launching her off the seat. Her disoriented gaze whipped wildly from left to right as her mind struggled to catch up with the sudden assault.
Namjoon violently yanked him back by the collar. With the gremlin contained, Namjoon's gaze snagged on her; There was confusion in her every deliberate blink, but soon enough her eyes cleared with recognition upon seeing him. A creeping blush crept across her cheeks, matching the adrenaline fueled one on his. His breath hitched. He felt a familiar pull in his chest, a desperate longing to rewind time, to erase Taehyung's chaotic entrance.
“Oh…” her voice was as weak as his rapidly plummeting confidence. “Hi... Namjoon?” her attention shifts to the lanky boy still hanging by the collar in his grasp, “Uh.. and this is?”
“I am terribly sorry, Y/N.” He set Taehyung down, grabbing his head and shoving him forward to a stiff bow. “My idiot brother here -.”
At the word ‘brother’, Taehyung wrenches away from Namjoon’s grasp, boxy smile still plastered as if he didn’t rip open the gates of hell. “Hi Noona. I’m Taehyung!”
A laugh bubbles out from her. But the nervous, delicate laugh (one that usually made something soft unfurl in his chest) only amplified his mortification.". “I can see that. So, how may I help you, Taehyung?”
He beams at the question, immediately sitting down across from her. “Noona, my hyung wants to show you his Pokémon card collection!” he bounced, placing both hands on his waist. “You better say that they’re awesome!”
Namjoon slammed his hands on his face.
It would come off as an exaggeration to say that Namjoon had always viewed her through the narrow lens of hidden affection. He would rather be hit with a solar beam than confess, but he’d always looked at her like his favorite story - one that had him rereading and yet still kept finding new parts to adore.
Sharing Pokémon as a hobby was now just another unexpectedly precious chapter.
“To be honest, I’m surprised. You don’t exactly scream ‘game nerd’” He’s been wrong, so so wrong, about putting her in a box. But he should’ve expected nothing less of a contradiction. The woman took Mechanical Engineering as a career path after all.
“Wow. That’s rich coming from a Demian fan.” Y/N chuckled, “Our pop culture talks aren’t exactly franchise specific, are they?” a playful glint dancing in her eyes as she held his gaze. “So there was no chance to talk about it in detail. and, I’m an only child.” The smirk is a complement to the glint in her eyes. “It’s not a matter of keeping it secret. I just had no one to share the hobby with.”
The idea was almost heartbreaking in its quiet loneliness. His gaze softened, understanding dawning. "Really? You haven’t tried trading, then?"
Across the campus field, Namjoon turned back to catch a glimpse of his younger brother, now thankfully distracted by the company of his classmates. Though the Kim siblings were always getting into petty arguments, the bonding moments over games were well worth being a core memory. But sometimes, when they got under each other’s skin too much, Namjoon remembered taking refuge on the rooftop for hours, just so he could get the console to himself. He supposed, with a hum, that being an only child had its own share of contrasts.
“Oh, you’d be surprised!” She fiddled with a stray thread on her sleeve (a nervous habit, he noted). “I wanted Gengar for a long time. The one time I thought I’d have one in-game was Diamond; But Mindy trades Haunter holding an Everstone! Can you believe that?!” her voice rose an octave as she leaned forward on the table, looking for validation. “I hated Snowpoint City for quite some time.”
A broad grin spread across his face. Mindy! It was a classic, cruel prank the topic of many angry threads in discord, and her impassioned, indignation of a retelling was understandable. He loved that she remembered such an obscure detail. It was another secret layer he was delighted to uncover.
"The Everstone," he repeated, shaking his head in mock commiseration. "Mindy's a menace. Shouldn’t be allowed to exist in the first place! A truly evil character. She’s worse than getting a critical hit from a Bidoof." It was enough to elicit her hearty laugh which Namjoon lost count of hearing so many times. The rush of heat down his neck every single time was still as potent, though.
"Did you ever actually get a Gengar?"
Her shoulders slumped. "I didn’t. I had to give up the quest of completing my pokedex." She shook her head, a smile finally breaking free, genuine and unburdened. "But that’s something I’m already used to. What about you?” she bounced on her seat, the energy of the conversation growing stronger. “Any particularly frustrating Pokémon quests or trades?"
Namjoon’s eyes lit up as he mirrored her stance. "Oh, definitely! Trying to evolve a Feebas into a Milotic is a beat. Catching Feebas was hard enough - with all those special water spots and all. Grinding for beauty levels? Don’t get me started on that." His voice dropped conspiratorially, and he missed the way she bit her lip. "I almost gave up. But then I saw Milotic's design, and I knew I couldn't." He found himself rambling a little, caught up in the shared nostalgia, but Y/N was listening intently with a warm look on her face. It was the easiest conversation he'd had all week or, if he’s honest, certainly the easiest he'd ever had with her.
They fell into an easy rhythm, bouncing from one Pokémon frustration to the next, trading stories of failed quests and hard-won victories. The conversation effortlessly shifted from rare cards and hidden moves to their own academic struggles, and the ways they each sought an escape. It was something he had replayed in his mind countless times over the past three years, and now that it was actually happening with natural ease, he found himself thanking Taehyung for the chaos he initiated.
“He’s certainly something” she laughed when Namjoon apologized for his brother’s idiocy. “It’s fun to watch how you dote on him. You look more like a chihuahua caretaker rather than an older brother.”
“He can be a handful. But he’s all right. Keeps the boredom at bay.”
"He's lucky to have a hyung like you." Tucking her hair behind an ear, she hummed in thought. “Speaking of which, did you manage to snag him a cupcake from the dorm pantry?”
The question hit him like a physical blow. He stared, speechless that she remembered such a passing comment. He realized he wasn't just surprised she remembered; he was surprised at how much it mattered to him that she had.
The dumbfounded look must have been comical to witness because her lips began to twitch, amusement dancing in her eyes. But as the silence stretched and their gazes remained locked, her hands, which had been resting casually on the table, suddenly, subtly, curled in on themselves. It was a tiny, nervous gesture, so unusual of her. She seemed to catch herself, her eyes darting away for a brief second before she met his stare once more, a faint, new blush creeping across her cheeks.
“Speaking of which,” she cleared her throat, her voice breaking slightly as she tapped the binder. “Any rare cards of your favorite Pokémon here?”
This was it. An open door. A perfect, final opportunity.
His trembling hands leafed the binder. "I've always been a Dragonite fan," he began, his voice an earnest murmur. "They're big and powerful. Their intelligence is said to match that of humans too." He looked at her then, a vulnerability in his gaze he couldn't hide. "But... They're also known for being clumsy, and for all their strength…” They both shared a laugh because they knew where this was going, “..they can get in their own way. They try to help but sometimes they just cause a mess instead."
Y/N's gaze softened as she pulled the binder to her side of the table. "I've always loved Vulpix," she said, her voice a whisper. "She's not a common choice, is she? One evolution…takes a lot of effort to find a Fire Stone." Namjoon caught how her confession held a deeper secret. "Some people think there are other, easier Pokémon that offer more options. But I always thought... if you put in the effort, she's capable of so much more."
He let her have a moment. The hidden meaning was heard: unconventional choices, the effort required, the unwavering career path despite public opinion. And he was once again reminded how she captivated him - more than appearances - but for her intelligence, quiet assurance and determined heart that lay beneath. Without hesitating, browsed the binder for the one card he knew could say everything. He knew this was the right time.
“You know..” he cleared his throat, pretending to be busy browsing the pages once more, “You’re good. I like being around you. You don’t care about other’s opinions, and that’s inspiring.”
He felt a new kind of courage settle in his chest, despite the jitter of his words exposing him. He needed to hide behind the binder again, needed a way to say more without speaking.
A first-edition Vulpix with a holographic sheen was pulled out, foil shimmering in the afternoon light. It was a card from a different set. Not a rare one, but one still worth keeping. Namjoon’s hand was no longer trembling when he lifted it between them.
“Speaking of Pokémon that are worth the effort,” His gaze was fixed on her, on the way her eyes stared at the card separating them. “I’ve always been so fascinated by Vulpix.”
His gaze flickered to the card, before meeting hers again. "I think people are wrong about her" he began, his voice a low, earnest murmur. "They say she’s not worth the trouble, that she’s too much work for just one evolution. But I think they don't see the full picture."
He took a breath, letting the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “You know how its game description says that a flame that never goes out burns inside its body? Or that its beautiful tails are filled with a wondrous energy that could keep it alive for a thousand years?” there was a flicker of comprehension in her eyes. “I don't think that's just a game description. I think that's a real thing. A kind of strength, you know? That drive to keep going, no matter what."
He smiles, watching how the card glinted in the soft afternoon sunlight. “Some people just don't know what they're looking at. But I think... some things are worth all the effort in the world."
He kept his gaze locked on the card. But just beyond its frame, in the soft blur of his peripheral vision, he saw her emotions shift as the meaning of his words slowly dawned across her face. A deep blush crept up her neck, this one more vibrant than any before.
“You know,” he whispered, eyes now fixed on her. “I’ve liked Vulpix for a while now. But I think I’m just now realizing why.”
The air between them held its moment as his words found their mark.
“Namjoon. I - “
"OH! A Vulpix!"
In an instant, Namjoon’s hand was empty. He hadn't even heard him approach. He looked up to see Taehyung perched on his other side, already locked in on the card he’d just so carefully pulled from the binder.
"I liked them too!" the boy declared, already rattling off facts about the Pokémon as if he'd been part of the conversation all along. "Did you know that inside their body burns a flame that never goes out? And they have beautiful tails that are filled with wondrous energy that could keep it alive for 1000 years, and–"
He stopped mid-sentence.
"Jimin! Jungkook! Look at this!" he shrieked to the figures walking along the pathway while waving the Vulpix card triumphantly in one hand. Once again, he became a blur of limbs and flapping clothing, leaving a bewildered silence in his wake.
The silence that followed was awkward, charged with all the words that had gone unsaid. Namjoon was still staring at the empty space where the Vulpix card had been, his heart hammering in his chest, his mind a frantic mess of Did that really just happen? and What do I do now?
Then, a single, soft giggle escaped Y/N.
It was all it took. A breathless laugh bubbled up from Namjoon as the shock of the moment wore off. The embarrassment was still there as a warm flush across his neck, but it was completely overshadowed by the unprecedented relief of the comedic timing.
The giggles turned into full-blown laughter, both of them clutching their stomachs and leaning on the picnic table for support. The tension evaporated - a much-needed exhale after a confession held for what felt like years. The card was gone, the confession had been interrupted, but the feeling of the moment still lingered.
When the last echoes of their laughter died down, Y/N wordlessly reached for the open binder. The gesture was so deliberate and unexpected that Namjoon's smile faltered, replaced by a sense of bewildered curiosity.
He watched, breathless, as her hands moved with careful nervousness. Her fingers now meticulously traced the clear plastic pockets of the card pages, gaze fixed on the images within as she mumbled the names of the cards. He had no idea what she was looking for, or if she was simply trying to change the subject as her way of gently turning him down. The thought was an agonizing form of tension.
His heart, which had just calmed after Taehyung's interruption, now began to pound again when he saw her pause on a page with finality. His thoughts rapidly soared with possibilities.
She slowly pulled the card free, eyes admiring the image. He couldn’t see it from his vantage point, but as she held it up his breath hitched: It was a simple, common Dragonite card that wouldn’t even cost a dime, its illustration humble and unassuming.
But to him, it looked like the most priceless card in the world.
"You said that Dragonite is big and powerful" she began, her voice a little shaky like he was moments ago. She didn't look at the card, but directly at him, a depth of emotion there that he had never seen before. “He is. He’s big and a little clumsy,” she laughs. “And he thinks he’s a hassle. But he’s genuine and doesn’t try to be something he’s not. He’s also the kindest Pokémon out there. The one who goes out of his way to make sure people are welcome and safe.”
Namjoon’s smile softened. He knew this was more than just a passing comment.
It was her answer.
She let the words hang in the air, a quiet parallel to his earlier clumsy attempts to show his own kindness. Then, she reached out and gently tapped the empty space on the table where the Vulpix card had been just moments ago.
“And sometimes,” she finished, a soft, fond smile gracing her lips, “I think his clumsiness is just because he’s in a hurry to get to the person he wants to help.”
She slowly lowered her hand, holding the card out to him as a silent, reciprocal offering that felt like the most eloquent confession he had ever heard. “You know… for someone who had no one to trade with, I think I just found the Dragonite I'm willing to trade Vulpix for.”
He looked at her, his eyes still sparkling with laughter, and her smile was as honest and unburdened as a clear sky after a storm. It was an intimacy that was different from the one just moments ago. This was real. This was easy.
This wasn’t just a trade of cards; it was a trade of vulnerabilities, a mutual acceptance of all the insecure parts of themselves. With the utmost care, he took Dragonite from her palm, his fingers closing over hers for a moment longer than necessary. He saw her smile brighten, and in her eyes, he saw the answer to every question he had ever been too afraid to ask.
He looked down at it for a moment. Without a word, he opened the binder and slipped Dragonite into the now-empty sleeve that once housed Vulpix.
It was a quiet act, but it said everything.
“It’s a deal,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Looks like we just completed the best trade of our lives.”
The main storyline was over. Now, the post-game is just beginning.