Autumn had a weird way of sneaking up on you. This morning, you happened to step outside your door to face an immediate ambush by freezing winds and swirling orange leaves. It was definitely a shock to the bright sun you were used to these days, but a welcome one. These days, you were always tired and melancholy– so the fact that the weather was changing to reflect that couldn’t be called a bad thing honestly.
Today, you chose to dress relatively plainly. Nothing about your caramel overcoat or black cap called attention, and you were grateful for that. It was your free day today, and you wanted to spend it alone and de-stress.
In your backpack, you carried a sketchbook and a notepad with your favorite array of pencils. The plan for the day was to hop on a bus, pick a stop, and explore. Along the way, you’d find a cafe or park bench to settle down and just observe. This practice became somewhat of a habit, because you felt that getting out of your head was becoming an increasingly nagging need recently.
There weren’t many people at the bus stop, since you had picked a time where the buses just began to run for the morning. As you glanced at the people next to you, you watched as a businessman straightened his tie before giving pointed glares at his wristwatch with growing impatience. In seemingly direct contrast, an elderly woman gives you a serene smile while clutching an array of bags, seemingly in an effort to be one of the first customers at the local farmers’ market.
Witnessing all this, it made you wonder at the amount of lives in world, all running in different directions, crossing paths, running parallel but never to touch, or being cut short at the end of a journey. Within your lifetime, you couldn’t even hope to know the path of a single percent of earth’s occupants entirely, let alone comprehend your own with clarity.
After all, you knew who you were, you were [FullName], [Age] years young with an affinity for taking random walks and documenting interesting things you saw. But could you honestly say you knew yourself? That you loved yourself?
The answer failed to manifest on your tongue, so you swallowed and pulled out your phone. As you slipped your earbuds into their familiar home to rest within your ears, you selected RM’s mono playlist and set it to repeat.
This collection of seven songs was recently released, and as you listened carefully, you couldn’t help but feel that the melodies encapsulated your recent moods perfectly. Especially on a quiet, thoughtful day such as this, BTS’s leader had outdone himself again.
As the sound of trains and sad piano notes filled your head, you couldn’t help but consider Namjoon’s talent once again. You remembered his energy, filling and expanding the whole stadium when you attended one of BTS’s concerts a few weeks ago. There was no doubt that he was a leader, a man who knew a lot more than what he chose to show publicly, and an artist who was quite literally bursting at the seams with songs the world needed to hear. His bright smiles, energetic dancing, and genuine appreciation for ARMY never ceased to amaze you. Although it hurt to see diminished cheering when RM appeared across the screens, you found solace in watching his dedicated and informative vlives and listening to his lyrical genius spread throughout BTS’s many albums.
However, you almost felt a shift in your heart when he released mono, amidst a world tour nonetheless! He was truly opening himself up and speaking himself. It was so raw and so real that it made you wish for nothing more than the ability to tell him, in person, how amazing he was and how loved he was. You were going through a tough time right around the time of the playlist release, and he had quite literally saved you.
The bus arrived, the strong scent of gasoline and loud screeching of its wheels bringing you out of your little stupor. You gave the bus driver a smile and a nod before heading to the back of the bus and looking outside the window at the lazy, crawling streets. This time, as the same businessman from earlier also boarded your bus, he was angrily conversing over the phone.
“Do you know who I am?” he shouted, face tinged red before quieting down after noticing the way passengers stared.
In a daze, your fingers automatically moved towards pulling your notebook out and reaching for a pencil in the depths on your backpack.
‘Do you know who I am,’ you quickly scrawled on the empty page before hesitating and skipping to the line underneath it to add, 'Do I know who I am? Because I don’t, so much so that my meaning can’t be found within or outside of me.’
You stared emptily at these words before turning the page over so you wouldn’t have to look at them anymore. The bus was beginning its movement now, so you settled for enjoying “seoul” in silence.
As the third song of the list ended with finality, you exited the bus along with a crowd of others. Everyone quickly hurried off to their known destinations, leaving you behind to take in your surroundings. You weren’t entirely sure if you had been to this part of town before, but you were sure you wouldn’t get lost as long as you had your phone handy.
Within a few steps, you caught sight of a park filled with heavy-breathing runners and small families feeding ducks in the pond. Crossing the street immediately, you hurried over as puffs of air emitted from your mouth before disappearing in the cool air.
You loved the way the leaves almost seemed to change color against the bark from the trees. As a particularly energetic toddler rushes past you to chase a fearful duckling, you smiled and sat down against a large and worn tree across the water.
Although the boy fails to capture his prey, he seems to have thoroughly enjoyed the chase as he runs happily back to his parents with open arms. The father raises the child into the air with a shout before settling his son on his broad shoulders and having the petite arm of his wife looping around his own. The family of three walks away from you and you watch, unashamed, as the woman rests her head on him in content.
Your pencil scratches against the smooth surface of the paper as you document the boy and duck chase, making sure to highlight his laughter before turning the page to include the silhouette of the family you had just witnessed as their stunted shadows reflect on the pavement below.
As “everythingoes” begins, you close your eyes and feel the beginnings of a smile tugging on your lips. A little “dah” escapes you lips with each beat before you open your eyes.
A man stands perhaps a few steps away from you, so close to the edge of where land meets water that you fear a single push would have him tumbling in. Perhaps he had been standing there earlier when the family was still present, but this time, you notice him because he is facing you and despite his hat and facemask, his eyes hold your own.
As he begins to slowly trudge towards you, the moisture seems to disappear from your mouth in an instant when you realize he looks awfully, awfully, similar to the artist who’s voice you’re currently enjoying with great enthusiasm.
By the time he is standing over you, his tall frame making you feel even smaller with you on the ground, your heart is beating a mile a minute. The hand clutching the pencil shakes against the page, so you tuck the utensil into your pocket.
“May I sit here?”
Even his voice echoes alongside the one that whispers against your ear, and you couldn’t help but think that, against all odds, Kim Namjoon was here.
“Sure.”
You scoot over and watch as he folds his self down, his lanky legs stretching out before him in comparison to your own that are crossed over each other in shyness. Although he is not touching you, his warmth radiates off him in waves. Waves that pulled you in and pushed you out.
“What are you listening to?” he asks, lowering his mask to help you hear him better.
You’d know that timbre anywhere.
“I-It’s a new release from one of my favorite artists…a playlist of sorts,” you swallow thickly and refuse to make eye contact with the man.
“Playlist?”
Pulling yourself together, you sighed before replying, “Yeah. It’s actually really popular and successful right now. I like to listen to these songs when I need to forget and remember.”
“That we’re all here for a reason. A purpose. In that process of living our lives there’s plenty of setbacks, but we are loved. We are strong, we will find who we are and speak ourselves without shame,” you bring your pencil back out and scribble on the right corner of the page.
He glances at your drawings from earlier before whispering, “I think those are some good truths.”
As soon as the last word escapes his lips, the sudden downpour greets the two of you with ferocity. The shock of the initial droplets splatters against your scribbles, smearing the lead while running grey rivers across the snow-white canvas.
Perhaps his response is quicker than yours, because you find yourself clinging to the side of the blonde-haired boy as he raises his coat over your heads. With one hand grasping your sketchbook and the other twisted into the side of his sweater, you feel your heart beating against your chest as the beginning pitter-patter of raindrops from “forever rain” mixes with those resounding in your surroundings.
By the time the two of you duck under the awning of a cafe, you watch as the heavy drops gather at the edge of the awning before crashing into the gathering puddles below.
Really, how big of a coincidental cliche is this?
“Are you alright?” he asks, taking your shivering form in with a concern genuine and it warms you up immediately along with the realization that you were still clinging to him like a lost child.
Dropping your hand quickly, you cleared your throat before continuing, “Y-Yeah…but,” you shake your wet sketchbook with a dejected smile.
He lifts the pages up to regard them closer, brushing your fingertips in the process.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “But they’re still beautiful. It’s a concept!”
You laughed, “You didn’t make it rain RM, don’t worry about it.”
He regards you with surprise before fidgeting with the band of his black facemask nervously and you bite your lip in frustration that you had let his name slip. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable if he knew you were a fan. He was likely taking a break of his own, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel like he needed to return back to RM instead of Namjoon.
“Hey.”
He looks down at you when the word escapes you with a quip, watching you write something quickly in the driest section of the page and tear the whole sheet out of its binding.
“This is for you. I’m glad I got to meet you today. I’ve always wanted to tell you how much respect and appreciation I have for you both as an artist and a person,” you offered him a small smile before adding, “I have to go now. But thank you Kim Namjoon, for making this whole world a little brighter with your light.”
He looks like he has more to say, but as soon as you’re certain he has a solid grasp on your drawings, you dash out in the rain with your hood covering your head as the RM in your earbuds sings gently, “forever rain…”
———-
Days have passed since you saw Namjoon, and as much as you’ve thought about it, you couldn’t help but think it might have been a case of mistaken identity. In all honesty, what were the chances? Besides, you’d probably left a terrible impression anyways by giving him some ruined scribbles and a weird note.
Scrolling through Twitter with a spoonful of cereal, you gasped and almost dropped your phone into your bowl of milk. Your couldn’t help the tears falling silently down your face as you saw your own water-damaged picture looking back at you along with a note written in your messy handwriting.
Simply, but warmly, the caption read, 'moonchild, you are the reason for my light.’
a/n– i decided to leave the note up to imagination, since i’m sure the things we’d want to say are different for everyone :-)
i love “mono” so much i couldn’t help but write this even with a midterm in 12 hours so i really hope you all enjoy this!!
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
andulkaphoto
dededos
jacobvanloon
prguitarman
