~ ====< LOVE, I MISSED THE BUS! - K. N.J. > === ~
Title: Love, I missed the bus!😍➡️🚍⁉️
Classification: fluff
Genre: friends to lovers!au, anxious Y/N!au
Protagonists: RM × girl(Y/N)
Let's just say I'm fu**ed.
What on earth was I thinking, that time, to decide to take any bus and go to New York all by myself?! Not a city, anyway, but New York. New York!
I, [Y/N L/N], who can't even buy a jar of pickled olives from the supermarket around the corner without getting lost in the aisles and getting nervous, forcing myself to ask the cashier for help. I, who can't even order at a restaurant without stumbling over my own words and swallowing my sentences, making blunders like "I'd like a pizza at the table.. I mean, a table at pizza flavour.. whatever, this one." I, who.. well, anyway, without mentioning any other anecdotes from my embarrassing and rather nonexistent social life, to make a long story short, I'm done for.
It's the third time I've tried to read the fucking bus station timetable, and it's also the third time I don't understand a fuck. Excuse the inappropriate and decidedly inelegant terms, but I'm really mad at myself! At myself and at that stupid boyfriend of mine, Jimin. It's also his fault. It's him I want to surprise.. by suddenly appearing like a mushroom under his apartment as a birthday present. I actually wanted to ask him to pick me up.. but let's just say my oversized ego, secondhand embarrassment, and that familiar (even too much) anxiety that whispers in my ear every time I have to make a phone call might have thwarted my previous plans. Besides, just randomly showing up under his house is much more fun.
So, basically, I'm screwed.
Buses. People. Communication. Three of the Great Walls to Break that appeared on [Y/N]'s mental list of fears. Taken together, they had the power to evoke her greatest obstacle: COMMUNICATION-WITH-LIVING-BEINGS ANXIETY. [Y/N] had become so anxious about interacting ever since she discovered Wattpad, and with Wattpad, Drarry's fanfiction, Draco × Harry. From then on, [Y/N] acted like the living dead, living like a serial killer in her room, feeding on the remains of what had once been food she found around the house. Namely, tasty leftover pizza crusts and healthy tubs of ice cream in devastating quantities, to say the least.
Anxiety, her greatest enemy and her longtime nemesis, oppressed her like a vulture in an American movie ready to devour her half-rotted carcass. It wasn't a simple dramatization of reality, if she said so herself. Without further ado,
[Y/N], that is, you-yes, exactly, you who are reading this, in case you hadn't already figured it out-was a terribly anxious girl.
That's why even she couldn't explain the surge of courage that took her when she decided she'd go to New York to visit her boyfriend as a birthday present. Also because [Y/N], who is still you, reading this, had lived her entire ignoble and miserable life as a tapeworm, relegated like a rat to the countryside, in her beloved parents' house with the slime-green roof. Twenty-one wasted years, her mother said, but she preferred to define that period of time as "the years of her lonely but satisfying childhood as a cheerful country girl." So, like the stubborn but cheerful country girl she was, she rushed to read the entire timetable, which listed the timetables, departures, and when the buses came and went, instantly realizing that her raid on her sweet, slightly sentimental boyfriend's house would fail miserably.
So, to avoid missing her connection, she took the first bus she knew for sure was heading to New York, with only a hundred dollars in her pocket and a backpack with two changes of clothes. She didn't know where she'd end up, but she knew the bus was definitely going to New York. The ride lasted about an hour and a half. An hour and a half during which [Y/N] had to sit next to a real, flesh-and-blood person, who, unfortunately for her, was neither Draco nor Harry.
When the bus stopped, announcing the last stop, [Y/N] got off and found herself in front of (and I quote, these thoughts) the largest, most abnormal, absurd, skyscraper-filled and cutting-edge city she had ever seen in her entire pitiful life.
Poor little, ignorant country girl that she was.
- I arrived, - she said to herself with very little conviction, - half a peasant in a city full of skyscrapers and buildings. -
Come on, what could possibly go wrong?
Isn't there a fucking bench around here?! No, I can't sit. I have to take a bus. The first bus I took, the one from my house, took me straight here, to the station. Now I have to find the bus that will take me to.. Manhattan..? Jimin told me he lives there. Theoretically. And that's because Jimin is rich and therefore lives in Manhattan. Rich in a manner of speaking, he's never lent me a cent.. Focus! Bus. Bus.. Bus.. Maybe I should ask someone.
No! Are you crazy?! You're going to make a fool of yourself in front of all these native New Yorkers, purebred American Indians! You want to kill us all!
I turn to the first person I see, on my right, who happens to be a tall, handsome guy with dark dragon eyes and tanned skin, and ask him the first thing that comes to mind:
- Excuse me, do they sell pizza here? -
The stranger raises an eyebrow, not understanding the reason for my question. Trust me, my anonymous new friend, I wish I knew too. Now that I think about it, it sounds quite familiar, but I can't remember where I've seen it before. Meanwhile, anxiety has started creeping up from the back of my mind again.
I'm almost ready to abandon the mission and shamefully retreat, to go back to devouring ice cream in front of the TV, when the charming stranger speaks to me again. And that voice is not new to me.
- Miss, would you like some help with the buses..? You don't seem very knowledgeable.. Or.. no offense, of course! -
He asks, a little confused. His cheeks flush, and he flashes a kind smile. The guy has dimples. He. Has. Dimples. I stare at him. And especially at his dimples. Hypnotic facial grooves, too irresistible for dimple-less commoners like the rest of us.
- I'd.. Um.. really appreciate it. I'm looking for a bus.. to Manhattan. -
- Miss, it's leaving right now! -
- What?! -
I quickly turn in the direction the guy is pointing, only to see my bus leaving, packed with people. A kid in the back windows waves goodbye. The guy I asked for directions approaches me again.
- Don't worry, miss. Another bus will be passing in about 15-20 minutes! -
But damn, I can't hear it. A bus. I missed the bus.
My legs are about to give out. My legs are about to give out, damn! And who can blame me? After all, I'm in a bus station, in the biggest city I've ever seen! Okay, you've found me. It's also the only city I've ever seen. But it's simply so big and scary.. and I just missed the vehicle that could have taken me away from all this chaos.
Noise. Noise, damn, it's too noisy. There's noise. Sounds.. Sounds.. Sounds everywhere.
I gasp for air, breathing in the heavy station air with difficulty, but I end up coughing because of a citizen smoking right next to me. Was he supposed to be sitting right here?! Hateful smokers! How do people live here without dying of poisoning every day? I mean, there's so much pollution, just in here! This is the most gigantic, abnormal, absurd, skyscraper-filled, and cutting-edge city I've ever seen. So crowded. Even too much.
My breathing becomes heavier, my vision blurs. An invisible weight settles like an iron feather on my heart. People pass me by, not even looking at me, like a flock of birds, all headed in different directions. They cover my eyes as if someone had covered my face with a black sack. They're just ants in a city like this... Too small to make a difference. Too deluded into thinking they're important to see reality.
I'll suffocate. I'll suffocate. I suffocate.
I hear the voice of the boy I'd bothered earlier hitting my ears, but my brain processes his words as distant echoes, mutterings that reverberate in my eardrum and bounce off my auricle, only to be sent back to the sender. His voice reaches my ears as if it were underwater. A hand, perhaps the stranger, invites me to sit on a bench.
How did I not see you before?
- Miss.. Miss! Are you okay? Come, sit down.. -
Two strong, reassuring arms wrap around my trembling body. Someone's scent hits my nostrils. The smell of something good, the smell of home. I feel the grip on my muscles loosen almost miraculously, my vision returning to clarity, the pixels magically materializing before my eyes. My breathing gradually becomes more and more regular. And no, I'm not in Heaven, in case anyone was wondering. I'm still at the station. And the people in a hurry are still there. However, someone is hugging me. And that someone is none other than the stranger. Some passersby stopped to observe the scene, half-moved, others simply ignored it all. Hateful New Yorkers.
And in that moment, a memory too clear and too important to forget appears in my blank, blank mind: my first panic attack. High school, first day of school. Mission: introduce myself to the class. Mission status: failed. And of course, the only person who's ever managed to make me relax enough to calm one of my fearsome attacks also appears in my memories.
The man slowly, very slowly, pulls away from me and looks at my face. Or rather, he analyzes me, trying to remember where he's seen me before. His dragon-like eyes pierce me, what am I saying? They're boring into my brain, processing my physical appearance. A few minutes pass, and we do nothing but stare at each other.
- [Y/N]..? [Y/N], is that really you?! -
- Unbelievable. [Y/N]! My best friend [Y/N]! What have you been doing all this time, huh? -
After the little incident with the bus, Namjoon and I found a more secluded place to stay, still in the station so as not to avoid another inconvenience. Joon is exactly as I remembered him: kind, sweet, and.. charming. His dimpled smile is melting.
The first thing he did after dragging me to another bench was pull me into a comforting, welcoming hug. My anxiety decided to step aside with him, and I immediately returned the gesture. I missed him. Namjoon remained as affectionate as I remembered him.
For those who don't know, meaning everyone, Namjoon and I were best friends in high school. High school wasn't exactly the best years of my short life, but with him, everything was brighter. He helped me a lot. He was the perfect guy: a little awkward, kind and nice to everyone, and adorably awkward with girls. In short, shy.
In fact, that was the image everyone had of him, but I knew him better: no one at school knew how much porn he watched at 2 a.m., or how many memories he and I shared.
However, it was because of the image people had of him that half the female population was attracted to him, but he didn't even notice. He was too wrapped up in the only girl I knew who had stolen his heart: Chloe. A beautiful girl, but impossible. At least for him. He was never interested in Chloe, but not because she was a bad girl, or one of those girls who always wanted attention. Quite the opposite, in fact. For example, I really liked Chloe. She was a girl who was very kind to me. In short, the perfect girl for the perfect guy.
The only thing holding Chloe and Namjoon back from their relationship was a detail as simple as it was significant. Chloe liked someone else. A girl, whose name I knew was Ashleen, but Chloe didn't get along with her. Classic enemies-to-lovers on Wattpad. But back to Namjoon.. well, when he found out, he was shocked to say the least. Not that he wasn't happy about it, he was happy for Chloe, but.. his heart was broken. So, he sought comfort in his best friend, namely me.
As for me.. I actually had a small crush on him: a high school crush, which faded when I met Jimin. Jimin made me fall for him in the blink of an eye, as he could do with any girl, after all. I mean, who could resist my boyfriend's fiery magnetism? So, after high school, Namjoon and I lost touch. I stayed in touch with Jimin, because he was my boyfriend, but with Namjoon.. every time I tried to call him, my anxiety would get in the way and he was too busy studying to call me first.
I decided to stay and live in the countryside, in my, Jimin's, and Namjoon's hometown. While he, with his brilliant mind, thought he'd have a better chance of finding work outside the small town he came from, so he moved.
I was too cowardly to follow him. Too afraid of failing, too anxious when I thought about the outside world. I was too scared to do what he did, to look for a different life, maybe even try to advance my career, and I was too scared to even call Namjoon. That's how our friendship ended.
- [Y/N]. [Y/N], you're lost in your thoughts again! What were you fantasizing about this time..? -
I'm awakened from my daydream by Nam's powerful voice. I look at him, and he returns my gaze and smiles, once again showing off his adorable dimples, which just a few years ago would have had the power to make me melt on the spot. In fact, I feel a slight, very slight heat rising to my cheeks, but I ignore the sensation and politely reply to my old high school friend.
- I'm not daydreaming, Nam.. I was just thinking back to my high school years, that's all. I really missed out on a lot of time, huh..? - I say, with a small, nostalgic smile. He lowers his head and mimics my expression.
- A few years, I suppose.. but then again, it's not that long. We can easily catch up! -
- Let's start with you, then! What are you doing here in New York? -
- Me? I live in New York! I should ask you what you're doing here. -
- You.. you live here?! -
At that unexpected revelation, my eyes widen and my mouth drops.
- Seriously?! You live.. in New York?! I mean.. I realized you'd moved to a big city, but I didn't think it was THAT big... -
- Didn't.. didn't I tell you..? -
- No! After all, we're talking about New York. How much does life here cost? -
- Well, come on. To be honest, I managed to find a well-paying job, so I'm doing pretty well. I'm not complaining, after all. I'm a model for a dental agency! -
Namjoon drops one bomb after another.
- Modeling for a dental agency?! What the.. wait, you didn't want to do the.. -
- Rappee, yeah. The passion is still there, though! I'm just still looking for a company that can hire me. I make mixtapes, songs, and, when I have time, I perform at some clubs around the city. However, working as an underground rapper doesn't pay enough to make a living, so.. -
- Damn, Nam.. it must be tough. Modeling during the day, and rapping at night.. tell me you're at least getting some sleep! -
- I'm doing okay. -
- And what about studies? How do you manage..? -
- As for college, I'm juggling both my commitments as a rapper and a model. I managed to find a good school that doesn't interfere with my crazy schedule, so I can manage it all relatively without too many problems. How about you? -
I'm taken aback by Namjoon's sudden change of subject, immediately snapping to attention. My fingers fidget nervously, my eyes darting from side to side, searching for a valid excuse. I'm a little embarrassed, to be honest. Really embarrassed. After high school, he immediately moved out on his own and started a career as an underground rapper in a huge city like New York. He also had to take another job to pay for college.. All. By. Himself. I, on the other hand, have done nothing but complain and drop out of school to avoid problems, and I've spent the last few years locked in my room wasting away. For what, anyway? Fear of the outside world, fear of new things. But I can't lie, at least not to Namjoon: I'll tell him the truth, nothing but the truth.
- I, actually.. haven't done much. In fact, I've done nothing at all. I dropped out of school, after high school, and.. I really regret it, you know. Lately I feel like I've ruined my life.. - I admit, accompanying my words with a bitter laugh.
- What are you talking about, [Y/N]? -
- Nam, seriously. I dropped out of school, abandoned myself, and let others take care of me. But don't worry. In fact, you shouldn't worry! I wanted to go with you when you moved away, but you know how I am. -
- Anxiety, huh? Your social anxiety hasn't left you yet, then. -
I snap my eyes up and stare deeply into Namjoon's. There's no pity or remorse in his irises, but pure and simple understanding. I remember a few minutes ago, when I almost had a panic attack from fear. It was thanks to him that I calmed down, that I managed to calm down. It's always been like this. Even at school, he was the only one I could feel comfortable with. I give a tight smile.
- Always her. You're still the only one who can calm me down, Joon. Consider yourself lucky! Anyway, I don't want pity. I want to learn how to relate to people, and I think that's why I decided to come to New York. -
- Actually, why did you come..? To put yourself out there..? -
- Not just that. Also to go see Jimin. Remember, Jimin? He told me he lives in Manhattan and it's his birthday soon! I wanted to surprise him. -
- Then he'll be happy to see you. If it were up to me, I'd die of joy if my girlfriend came to visit. And then, let's talk about you. -
- And what about you? -
- Hmm? -
- Relationships? I want to know everything! -
- About my relationships.. love really hates me! I met a girl, you know..? From our old school. Her name is Debora. -
- Debora..? You mean.. Debby?! -
- Her, exactly. -
- But she was the most popular girl in our school! -
- I know. In fact, she cheated on me shortly after.. with an old jock on the team! -
- Nooo, poor Namjoon.. -
- You, on the other hand, from what I understand, have been with Jimin for all these years. Wow, what an accomplishment! I'm really happy for you. -
- Thank you, Nam. But we.. Weren't we supposed to take a bus..? -
I ask, looking around. The station is as ugly as ever: cigarette butts on the street, chewing gum everywhere on the floor, and dirty asphalt surrounds us. You can't exactly say New York is the cleanest city in existence. In Namjoon and my hometown, people are very concerned about order and cleanliness. I remember in elementary school, at least once a year the teachers would let us out of school to clean the courtyard and the park with volunteers. But that's not the point. The point is the bus.
Namjoon looks at me and raises an eyebrow, a little confused. A doubtful, thoughtful expression forms on his face.
- Now that I think about it.. we spent a lot of time talking. What time is it..? -
I look at Namjoon with wide eyes. No. No, no, no. Don't tell me we missed the bus again.. for what, to talk to Namjoon?!
- [Y/N]. [Y/N], calm down. Nothing's happening. Even if you missed it, it doesn't matter. New York buses run 24/7, you can always take the next one. -
- No, Namjoon.. I.. I can't. I've already missed it once.. I can't make another mistake! Besides, it's late.. you'll have to go home too! And if you go home, who's going to keep me awake..? It's dangerous. It's dangerous. I can't do this. -
Again, the air in my tracheas feels almost blocked. My lungs aren't getting the oxygen they need, the smog makes me cough and choke. Again. Again, like before, I feel panic creeping in, anxiety starting to pound from the back of my brain again. I cover my ears with my hands, feeling the noise in my throat getting louder than before. Everything feels like it's spinning, like I'm doing Ring-a-Rose.
- I.. don't.. I don't.. -
- [Y/N]. Look at me. -
Namjoon's voice comes through loud and clear. He grabs my shoulders and shakes me a little, snapping me out of my agitated, out-of-touch state. Fear grips me, but I manage to slowly remove my hands from my ears, guided by my friend, to meet his dark eyes, filled with dripping worry.
- N.. Namjoon.. -
- It's okay. You'll stay at my place tonight, okay? Then, tomorrow we'll take the bus to Manhattan together. Is that okay? -
- Wait. Did I understand correctly..? Stay at your place? -
- Um.. Nam, could you lend me some pajamas? -
Damn, I'm so anxious. I've never felt more anxious in my life. No, that's not true. I've always been anxious, and I'll probably feel that way again. However.. is it really normal for my heart to beat so fast..?
Nam dragged me to his apartment in downtown New York. And guess what? We took a freaking bus. That's because New York buses run 24/7, without a break. They run every 15-20 minutes, all night long, without stopping, so everyone can catch the bus as quickly as possible. And yet, I still managed to miss my connection, twice. Give me a big round of applause.
Namjoon was super kind. A sweetheart. He's so sweet for no reason, so nice even though I didn't ask for anything. Even though the one who needs help is just.. me. I'm not saying this for attention or pity, but because it's the pure, harsh truth. I'm nobody special, I'm not different from everyone else. Who knows how many other people in the world have social anxiety like me.. I've been lucky to meet people who helped me overcome it, at least a little.
Leaving Namjoon alone would have been ideal, but I played dumb, practically throwing my scarecrow-like body at him, begging for his help, and now I'm actually regretting it. Pretty ironic, right? Okay, no, not at all.
Nam, as soon as he sees me poking my head around his bedroom door, gives one of his dimple-smelling smiles and gets up from the bed where he was sitting to rummage through his closet to see if there's a shirt he can borrow. I'd be fine with the first one he finds, since it would be too big for me anyway.
Namjoon's bedroom isn't small, but it's not too big either: it's just right for him. The walls are white, clean, and perfect, as if they'd just been painted, and the parquet floor gives the room a comfortable and welcoming feel. In the middle of the room is a large double bed that honestly feels incredibly soft, with seemingly fluffy blankets. It's exactly my friend's style. What I admire most is that he can afford this apartment all by himself, and he's supporting himself as best he can. But his place doesn't look like a chicken coop, but rather a cozy little house.
The apartment is located in downtown New York-bad, I'd say, because I already know I won't be able to sleep because of the noise. It's not very big, precisely because of my friend's financial problems, but I'd say he's doing pretty well. He has a house, a job that supports him (well, two), and he's pursuing his dream of becoming a successful rapper. And I, of course, have complete faith in his abilities. Another thing that amazes me is how he manages to sleep, with the house being almost on the street. For me, a person accustomed to the quiet, unhurried life of the countryside, it'll be practically impossible to get any sleep tonight. Oh well. I guess I'll be sleeping at Jimin's house when I go to visit him. If I can find him at all.
- There you go! I'm sorry it's a little ugly, it's the smaller I have.. -
Namjoon snaps me out of my thoughts, as if he were the prince and I were Snow White. I reconnect, bringing my body back to planet Earth, guided by my friend's powerful voice. Nam is staring at me, smiling, a white sweater in his hand. I smile reflexively at his infectious positivity and take the sweater. Finally, to end on a high note, I run away from him without thanking him and hide in my room, which is the guest room of Namjoon's apartment, trying not to show my friend my cheeks, which are almost too red from embarrassment, and trying not to let Namjoon hear how fast my heart is beating. I can't afford to expose myself like this.
Again, the distant echo of voices gets closer, and it's as if I'm back there: in high school. The images flash before me like snapshots: the first day of school, a boy with dimples smiling and me staring at him, frozen; the beginning of our friendship, and all the secrets and gossip we exchanged, gossiping about that person. And let's not forget the ice cream: how many we ate together, Joonie and I.. and not once did he feel what I felt, or notice me gazing at him in admiration from afar.
And who can blame him? It's already a lot if I made friends with Namjoon in high school.
I bring my emotionally shocked mind back to the present, immediately realizing that I've spent far too much time daydreaming about the old days. So, quickly, I take off the shirt I was wearing and put on the T-shirt Namjoon lent me. It's white, strictly oversized, and has a drawing of an adorable cartoon koala on the chest. Mmhh. Good. It smells like him. Like him and one of those masculine men's perfumes that guys use when they flirt with women. I know it because Jimin used a similar perfume. Spoiler alert: the perfume he used was awful. Luckily, he's changed his scent now; the other one was too strong.
I hear a knock on the door and what I recognize as Namjoon coughing softly, too shy to knock and ask if everything's okay. I automatically smile at the thought of Namjoon looking red and flustered because of me, but eventually I realize he's waiting for me and I jerk the door open, finding Namjoon still with his hand clenched in a fist and his arm outstretched, trying to knock on the door. He visibly flinches at the sight of me in his shirt. I wonder if he can see my belly fat even in my oversized T-shirt. Before speaking, Nam runs his eyes over my body, covered in his shirt, and bites his lip at the way the fabric hugs my curves. Once again, when he notices me looking at him and that I've seen all the appreciation hidden in his eyes for my appearance, Namjoon clears his throat in embarrassment. He looks at the joints holding the door upright, pondering what to say, and finally blurts out a word.
- Um.. so, how does that shirt look on you? It's not too big, is it? -
- A little. But not too big, come on.. compared to the other shirts you have, I'd say this one's way too small! -
I conclude my statement with a laugh, trying to ease the tension building between Nam and me. I'd like to clarify, if you'll excuse me, that this isn't just normal tension, but actual.. sexual tension. There's that something in the air that makes me want to unceremoniously jump into Namjoon's arms and start the dance. But almost immediately my mind is filled with images of a smiling Jimin, and I immediately regret having had perverse thoughts about anyone other than him. Namjoon, however, is still Namjoon. No one can blame me.
- You look.. You look good in that shirt, [Y/N]. You have to remind me to leave it aside when you get back to the countryside, because you're really cute. -
Cute?! Did I hear that right?! For the sake of Namjesus, someone get me out of here.
God, Jim Carrey, kill me right now.
I swallow, unable to respond to such a simple, covert compliment, and look away awkwardly from the two air-filled balloons before my eyes.
Wow. Namjoon has gained considerable muscle mass since finishing high school. I remembered him as having a body vaguely resembling that of a breadstick.
But my friend, when he saw that I couldn't hold his gaze, must have thought the situation was making me uncomfortable, and he retracted the compliment as quickly as he said it, only to mess things up even more.
- I meant.. that shirt makes you cute! I mean.. no! You're already cute, but the shirt.. yes. -
- Namjoon, don't worry.. I get it, okay? For now, I just want to go to bed and sleep. I'm really tired.. -
Nam nods, watching me yawn with my mouth wide open like a dinosaur at his beautiful, dimpled face. He laughs at my tired, puffy eyes, then nods again and agrees with me.
- Indeed.. it's been a busy day, huh? -
- Too busy, to be honest. I still have to get used to the pace of you New Yorkers! -
- Have faith, [Y/N]. This is only the first day, after all. I'm sure tomorrow will be better. -
- I hope so, Nam. -
- Oh, don't be like that! Be positive about the future. Not even you can predict what will happen. -
- You say so? Because I foresee long, unlucky days in your company, followed by an excessive dose of anxiety and negativity. -
- Ah, so you're doing it on purpose! -
We both burst into a hearty, cheerful laugh, our heads thrown back and high-pitched sounds coming from our mouths. Namjoon is charming even when he laughs; in fact, when he laughs, he's even better: he seems just like himself. His dimples, accentuated by laughter, his almond-shaped eyes closed, and the amusement evident on every side of his face. And his hair, soft and silky, moving slightly with every twitch of my friend's body.
I can't resist Namjoon, damn it, he's too handsome. Too handsome, too kind, too sweet to me. He cares too much about my mood, how I act, about me in general. And it's.. pointless.
Nam realizes that I've stopped laughing to watch his reaction a few seconds later. He gradually stops, wiping the sides of his eyes where tears had formed from laughter, and focuses his black irises on mine.
- [Y/N]..? Are you okay? -
But now my mind has suddenly flown to another planet. I don't know what possessed my mouth to respond to Namjoon like that, but seeing my friend laugh uncontrollably has instilled something in my brain. Lips, in fact, speak for themselves, without reason being able to stop the words my tongue forms.
- Nam, you're beautiful. -
Namjoon stiffens for a second, trying to process the words inside his skull, and for a moment I think I was wrong to open up like this. I understand he's pleased with the compliment when I see his tense shoulders lower, relax, and soften, and a shy, genuinely moved smile creeps across his face. The boy is speechless for a second, the syllables that I assume are dying in his throat, pressing against his tongue to escape. In the end, though, in the war between his mind and his heart, his feelings finally win, and Namjoon finally gives voice to what he's been holding inside for years.
- I.. I don't know what to say, [Y/N]. Thank you. But I'm not as handsome as you say. I'm just a normal guy, with a normal, boring life. You, on the other hand, are beautiful. You say it's not true, that I'm wrong, but the truth is.. you are much more attractive than any girl in this stupid world. You should be more aware of your beauty and charm, [Y/N]. In fact, you need to be aware of it. Oops.. I'm afraid I've said too much. Did I overdo it..? -
Damn, Namjoon. Because of you, not even the rest of my body responds to my brain's commands now.
I don't know what to say, how to respond, and so I just express all the love I feel for him in my own way. My body lunges forward, without thinking, and my arms find their way to Joonie's waist, hugging him tightly so as not to let go, even though I know better than anyone that he would never abandon me. My head ends up resting on his soft, muscular chest, and it makes me want to bury my face in his pectorals, which I actually do. He's so warm between those two pillows. My fragile body is in turn embraced by my old friend, who surrenders to his affection and shows me once again how much he cares for me. But I know that Namjoon loves me. The embrace is tight, very tight, and a faint but numbing warmth emanates from our joined bodies. It seems as if Namjoon wants to merge with me, from the moment he's holding me so tightly, so much so that at a certain point I think I might die from lack of air. Magic surrounds us: bubbles of silence and transparent glitter rise into the air, and inside the room, U2's "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses" comes on. It doesn't matter that the song is actually playing in my head. It feels like the words are coming to life, enveloping my body and my friend's until they become real. Who would save me, Namjoon, if you weren't here? Jimin? But he barely remembers my birthday..
But, like everything, the magic breaks, and Namjoon and I have to reluctantly part. His arms struggle to free themselves from my warm body, his face slowly rising from my shoulder where he'd been leaning. I can see his eyes now, and the first thing I notice is that the boy's eyes are shining and his expression is so moved it could almost be mistaken for addiction. The song keeps playing in my head, on repeat like a broken record.
I try to open a dialogue, a conversation, but Nam stops me by shaking his head from side to side, still smiling shyly.
- [Y/N].. you don't have to say anything, seriously. It's no use. I.. I understand. -
These are simple words, the ones he tells me, and that's because there's no need to say anything anymore. All my feelings have already been expressed in the hug, in the way I tried to hide in my friend's arms and chest. We didn't speak, but in a way, the silence was enough. The gesture spoke for us.
Namjoon doesn't wait any longer. Not a word, a greeting, or a nod to let me know he's still there. He simply turns around, smiles under his breath once more, and leaves the guest room as he entered, leaving the warmth of his embrace behind. I immediately close the door behind him, collapsing to the floor again.
What's happening to me lately?
The next morning I wake up with a pounding headache that relentlessly beat my skull. But, for once, it's not the fault of all the fanfiction I read before bed.
For far too long now, I've developed the curious habit of reading fanfiction from morning to night, tiring my poor eyes and my mind, which has been overworked by Wattpad stories with questionable plots and mediocre, predictable storyline. But for some unknown reason, I still haven't stopped. Yesterday's conversation with Namjoon about my future made me rethink the path I've taken, and I'm definitely not satisfied with the choices I've made.
I could have done something else, done something meaningful.
But my willpower is at absolute zero (thanks to Nam, it's risen to +1.2), and my self-esteem is below the level of whole numbers (about -8.7). For this reason, even though Namjoon is by my side and has always been on my side, for now I'll put aside my secret dreams and all the big plans I had as a child to make room for rationality.
Getting back to the crux of the matter, namely the reason for my headache, this morning I woke up with my head pounding, precisely because of my best friend.
I couldn't shake the thought of him and his sweet words, the way he looked at me, as if I were the only one in the world. Those dragon-like eyes, slitted, and all those syllables perfectly articulated and with just the right touch of sensuality from his mouth, from his full, soft, attractive lips, and.. okay, I'm definitely delirious. I have to remind myself that I've had Jimin by my side now, for over a year, and I won't betray him because suddenly, by complete coincidence, I've met my ex-best friend, who also happens to be my longtime high school crush. I'm not a kid anymore, even though I act like one; I have a (hopefully) thinking mind and a brain that works perfectly (maybe).
I've felt so rejected for so long that I'm even thinking it by myself. But I won't act like it. Even though Jimin isn't exactly the best guy and definitely not the perfect boyfriend, I won't entertain perverse thoughts about another man (my best friend, by the way!) just because I'm feeling sexually frustrated right now. How long has it been since I last saw Jimin in person? A few weeks? Months, maybe? All I know is that it's been a really long time. I've lost track of time since he moved back to Manhattan, and we've spoken very little since.
Slow and backward relationship.
The smell of something burning stings my nostrils, innocently burning my poor nose hairs. And that's when I remember how late it is, and that Namjoon might have tried his luck and taken up "creative cooking." That said, there's also a good chance I'll emerge from the guest room and find Namjoon's kitchen ablaze, and a Namjoon, all sad and sorry about his ruined breakfast, wearing an apron. In case you're wondering why I know so many details.. well, sometimes it's better not to cite sources.
I have a vague feeling that whatever Namjoon is trying to do in the kitchen isn't good, so I straighten out the now-crumpled T-shirt my friend lent me for the night and open the door, ready to rant on Nam.
My entrance into the kitchen is spectacular: a veritable theatrical entrance, with even a realistic (almost too realistic) curtain of black smoke adorning my body. As soon as I step foot in the room, the smoke forces me to cover my nose and mouth with the fabric of Nam's shirt, attempting to shield my nasal passages and lungs from the gaseous conflagration burning in that poor kitchen. A few meters away from me stands Namjoon, towering like a streetlamp in the center of the room. He's holding a wooden spoon that's about to catch fire and staring at his apartment's gas stove with an expression somewhere between guilt and regret. In the sink, immersed in cold water, I glimpse the black-stained pan I assume he's been using to cook me breakfast with.
My eyes burning and threatening to water from the thick smoke, I run to the window and throw it open to let the smell escape. I cough into the air, feeling the burning smell clear from my lungs, but the noise makes Namjoon turn around and greet me with a dimpled smile. How can he smile after he just burned half the kitchen?!
- Namjoon! What have you done this time?! How many times do I have to tell you not to cook unless someone is supervising you?! You're a loose cannon with a lighter in your hand! -
- [Y/N]! I mean.. [Y/N]. Sorry. I didn't mean to ruin everything.. I just wanted to make some eggs this morning, but I must have overdone it with the fire... -
- Namjoon.. you're officially banned from the kitchen! Thanks to you, I no longer have to go to the beautician to get my nose hairs removed. You burned them all off! -
- Eh.. oops.. -
- Get out of here! Don't go near the stove anymore. I'll cook now, my dear. -
- Ugh, okay. -
- And you're snorting too?! -
Nam decides that among his remaining options, the best one is to shamefully retreat and sit at the kitchen island, and that's exactly what he does. He pulls the chair out so he can sit, and places his beautiful butt on the flat wooden seat. The seat's legs creak under the sudden change in weight and the load it must bear—namely, Namjoon's mountain of muscles. His entire body relaxes from the numbing position he's in, and he stretches out his full length on the wooden tabletop. Namjoon stretches his arms on the wood and makes a sound that sounds like an annoyed grunt, probably because he's been banned from the stove. He can't complain too much, because if it were up to him, he'd set the entire apartment on fire.
While he procrastinates, I grab Namjoon's poor, half-melted pan and throw it in the sink, dousing it with cold water and letting the clear liquid wash away all of Namjoon's guilt caked on the pan's surface. I don't admonish him and I'm careful not to criticize his life choices any further, knowing that Namjoon is, even if it doesn't seem so at first glance, a very sensitive guy who's very susceptible to others' influence. He's too kind and sweet for anyone on this damned planet... then I continue making breakfast for both of us. Namjoon wanted to cook some banal eggs before risking burning down half the kitchen—I can tell by the eggshells left to their own devices on the counter, next to the still-hot induction hob. So I open the fridge, not feeling very hopeful, but against all expectations, I find it overflowing with food. I gleefully grab the milk carton, only to realize that said carton has expired since last month. So, fearing the same fate has befallen the rest of the food, I try to check the expiration date on a peach yogurt: it's been gone for a few weeks. At that point, a doubt arises.
- Namjoon.. how long has it been since you ate homemade food? -
- Hmm.. what do you mean? Like, food I make myself? -
Rolling my eyes, I rephrase my question so Namjoon understands (same species, i.e., Homo sapiens, but different genders).
- Let me ask you another way. How long has it been since you went grocery shopping? -
- Oh, that! Um, you know I don't know? A week, maybe? Lately, I've been buying only takeout. Is that what you meant by 'homemade food'? -
- Namjoon. The expiration date on this yogurt is over a month old. And the milk expired two weeks ago. Before you started cooking, did you at least check that the eggs were edible? -
A nervous chuckle emerges from my childhood friend's pink mouth. His shaking shoulders make me think that no, he obviously hadn't checked, and yes, there's a chance he didn't even know he had yogurt in the fridge.
- You didn't even know this yogurt container existed, did you, Nam? -
Namjoon, in response, lowers his head and stares guiltily at the kitchen island. Caught.
- I caught you red-handed, Joonie. Tell me the truth: when was the last time you cooked food for yourself here at home? -
- Now that you pointed out that the yogurt and milk expired several weeks ago, I think the last time I cooked was three months ago. I must have been living on canned and pre-packaged food without realizing it. -
- Joon, damn it! You need to take better care of yourself! -
- I barely have time to study, let alone cook. I'm sorry, [Y/N], that there aren't any ready-made, edible foods left. -
I bite my tongue and hold back from saying anything else, reminding myself of how much Namjoon must feel affected by my words. I've gone too far, again. I don't want to meet his sad gaze, but I feel it settle on my back, so I turn away, ignoring his apologetic and slightly disappointed eyes, and search his fridge for something still edible. Luckily, for some reason, the eggs haven't gone bad. I grab two while the butter melts in the pan and the induction hob heats up, and when the melted butter begins to sizzle on the surface, I crack the shells on the edge of the shallow pan, revealing raw yolks and whites. I open every drawer and compartment within my reach until I find the wastebaskets, and I throw the broken shells in the organic waste.
- All right. It seems I'll have to cook from now on. To make sure the food you buy doesn't go bad, of course. Do you know what a waste it would be, otherwise..? -
My old friend looks at me. I feel his eyes piercing my back, and I can't deny it's rather disturbing. But his reaction is plausible, considering that just a few minutes ago I was angry with him for setting his beautiful kitchen on fire and officially ruining a previously working pan. I can't see Namjoon sad or disappointed. Then I feel like I'm feeling the same thing, as if we're somehow connected. How mystical, isn't it? Connected like a cell phone to Bluetooth headphones. What I feel, he feels, and vice versa.
Meanwhile, the eggs are cooked, so I turn off the heat and set the pan aside with the lid on. I grab another pan, melt the butter again, and finally fry some slices of uncooked bacon, strangely not spoiled, that I found in the depths of the fridge. The slices of meat fry quickly and are ready in a flash. I put both the bacon and eggs on two plates, and lo and behold, the breakfast Namjoon had attempted to cook earlier was magically ready. After all, it just needed a little more care to make sure everything didn't burn.
Nam looks at me, looks at his plate of bacon and eggs, then gets up and heads back to the kitchen.
- Nam! I thought I told you you're banned from anything involving fire or sharp objects, right? -
- Wait a minute! I'll get the silverware and glasses! At least let me help you set the table, [Y/N]. This is my house, after all. You should be the guest. -
- I don't mind cooking, actually. It's better than watching the entire stovetop melt because you decided to fry some eggs, don't you think? -
- I suppose so? -
Namjoon returns to the kitchen island with forks, knives, glasses, and placemats. It's amazing how he managed to carry all these items at once without breaking them. He slowly places the silverware on the table, making sure to make sure I observe him, and finally sits down across from me, smiling. I don't know what he expects me to say.
- Great job, Joonie. You.. set the table without breaking anything! You really did a great job. -
He seems somehow proud of himself and thanks me for the food. Then, unable to resist the hunger, we both dig into the plate of fried eggs and bacon.
I'm choking. I'm choking. I'm choking. I'm choking. Why are there so many people on one bus?! What if the ticket inspector passes?! What if the ticket doesn't work?! What if—okay. Relax.
- [Y/N]..? Are you.. okay? -
- Great, thanks. I'm feeling great. -
- [Y/N].. tell the truth. I won't get mad if you tell me you absolutely want to get off. -
- It's not like I absolutely want to get off! I mean, what makes you think that..? -
- You've been staring at the seat in front of you for over ten minutes as if it might come to life. Don't try to make fun of me, you're anxious. Relax. -
- What if the ticket inspector comes by..?! -
- We have the ticket. -
- What if the ticket doesn't work?! -
- Then we'll probably pay a fine! -
- But I'm too poor to pay a fine! -
- [Y/N], calm down. Nothing's going to happen, okay..? Don't worry, relax, and enjoy the ride. It's not long now, just hang on for another ten minutes and we'll be at Jimin's house. It won't be long. -
I try to control my breathing and calm my boiling spirits, but the more I try, the more I feel like I'm suffocating. At a certain point in the run, I'm panting as if I've just run a few miles—or like a dog, depending on your point of view—so much so that the man sitting in front of me turns to ask if everything's okay. He looks warily at Namjoon, who responds with one of his signature dimpled smiles, then the stranger goes back to minding his own business. My old friend looks at me gleefully, and I don't understand what it is about my face that makes him smile like that.
- Why are you staring at me? -
- See? You're so pretty, you attract everyone's attention, even people who don't know you!" he states, pointing with a finger at the man who had spoken to me a few seconds earlier. -
His response stuns me and leaves me literally speechless, so much so that I stare at Namjoon without being able to get a word out. Incredible. How can he say things like that so calmly..?!
I can't say anything, not even contradict him, and this brings a frown to the face of my former best friend and childhood crush, and slowly his smile fades into nothingness, making room for a silent question that flutters gracefully in his mouth: "Well? Did I say something wrong?"
I really want to take control of the conversation and assert my dominance by resolutely declaring that I'm fine, fantastic, I've never felt better, but the words die in my throat before they even reach my tongue.
Fortunately, the bus, which had previously caused me so many problems that I couldn't count them on two hands, saves me from this embarrassment.
The infernal machine stops and the driver loudly announces the stop. Damn, it's ours! Namjoon and I exchange a knowing look that quickly replaces the previous discomfort, and we quickly get up from our seats, rushing toward the crowded entrance, thronged with people waiting to board. My friend signals the driver not to start again, and the guy waits the few seconds it takes for Namjoon and I to get out. Then, he pushes the button to lock the doors and finally sets off for the next stop. Namjoon and I look at each other, and I return his smile, once again plastered across his face. He meets my eyes.
- So..? Where are we headed, Commander? -
I laugh, almost imperceptibly, and take the note with Jimin's address written on it from my pocket. No, I haven't forgotten why we're lost in New York. And how could I forget..? Jimin is literally my boyfriend.
- Cadet, we have to head in that direction. Full starboard! -
- I'm afraid you're confusing the roles. I'm the second general, please. -
- I'm sorry, Joon, but I've relegated your position to cadet, a front-row soldier at best. -
- Argh! And yet, with the brilliant mind I have, I could do something else.. how about strategist? -
- Not bad, though. It would be a nice promotion, indeed, but I won't give it to you. I'm the general! Full speed ahead! -
- More than a general, you seem like some kind of dictator, but who am I to speak? -
I burst out laughing uninhibitedly, and following my laughter I hear Namjoon's deeper laugh in the background. His laughter makes me feel a sort of seasickness, nostalgic for days together and distant memories. But I don't feel sad or down. The feeling of emptiness is gone, and in its place is.. joy.
- Oh, Namjoon.. you're a poor fool. You'll be a cadet forever. -
- Infamous government! I'll fight for the rights of us junior soldiers and I'll win! - He rants, persisting with this pretense. - You won't be able to outclass me! -
All right, Namjoon. Just like you said. While my beloved childhood friend continues to shout out loud behind me, attracting the attention of passersby, I promptly resume walking in the direction of my Jimin's apartment. Truth be told, I'm not very good at finding my way around, and it's already a good thing I can read a map. Nam follows me, after falling silent due to the dirty looks he's received for the pandemonium. Serves you right, Namjoon.
- Have you screamed enough? - I reproach him, giggling charmingly. - You'll be speechless after that! You sounded like a cackling crow. -
- Ahh! [Y/N], is that what you think of me? You think I'm a cackling crow?! -
I laugh in response, shake my head, and hop into a side street. Manhattan is incredibly crowded. Luckily, Jimin lives in a quieter, less chaotic part of town, but that doesn't mean the street noise and the roar of engines don't reach his apartment. I don't know how he manages to live here: it's crowded, too many people, so chaotic it feels like a market. Not to mention the smog! I'm not used to this city air.
People rush from one place to another, their pace is frenetic. They don't have a moment to rest.
My shoes land on the surface of a puddle, and drops of dirty water end up on the asphalt. The streets are damp and wet; it must have rained this morning. I didn't notice because of Nam, who woke up thinking about setting his kitchen on fire.
We should be almost there by now. My boyfriend's apartment isn't far, it should be a few meters from where Namjoon and I are. My friend hasn't stopped chatting excitedly for a moment: he can't wait to hug Jimin again! And to think, in high school I didn't realize they were so close to each other... after all, Namjoon didn't even know my boyfriend lived in New York, otherwise he would have visited him much sooner.
I check my location on Google Maps again, and I'm amazed to see that the app marks the apartment building in front of me as Jimin's. We've arrived at our destination!
I stop in front of the building. Today is my boyfriend's birthday. I didn't buy any presents, since the present is me and Namjoon—it may sound a little arrogant, but it's the harsh truth.
My friend stops walking and admires Jimin's home sweet home in amazement. I clearly sense his presence beside me, and I hear him make a surprised noise. He knew he should have expected a lot from Jimin, but still, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the apartment building. In fact, Namjoon's apartment looks decidedly more comfortable in comparison. Jimin's place is almost scary.
It's a spacious penthouse with a view of New York's skyscrapers. The apartment is on the top floor of the building; Jimin obviously bought it with the location in mind. I've never been up there, but I have reason to believe the cityscape from my boyfriend's window is wonderful and breathtaking. The entire building was built relatively recently. It's all very modern, with large windows overlooking the city and strange cubic shapes. I'm not a big fan of modern homes; in fact, Jimin calls me too simple. The truth is that I don't like luxury, so I feel uncomfortable in a city like New York.
Without delaying another minute, I approach the building. There's a large glass door and next to it the cubicle where I assume the doorbell is. I scroll through a ton of names (good grief, how many people live here?!) until I find Jimin's.
Cosmar J. R. Albu •
Taehyung Kim •
Soo-Min Sam •
Jungkook Jeon •
Jeshiah Cohen •
Chae-Won Kim •
Yoongi Min •
Seokjin Kim •
Jimin Park •
Hana Nakamura •
Andrea Valeri •
I go to press the button, but Namjoon beats me to it and does it for me. A melodious, harmonious voice answers from the intercom. Jimin's. The first thing I notice is how breathless his voice sounds. He sounds like he's run two marathons inside the house. The second oddity is that.. is he moaning? The way he pronounces syllables makes even a simple question like "Who is it?" sound unpronounceable. And that doesn't bode well. As soon as we tell Jimin our names, I hear him panicking on the other end of the intercom. A voice stands out—one that's feminine, high-pitched, and sounds like it wants to be anywhere but there. But I don't want to jump to conclusions. I give Jimin a few minutes to recover, and he opens the door for us. Namjoon must have noticed something's wrong, too, because he doesn't say a word by the time the elevator reaches Jimin's floor.
Anxiety immediately begins to build a castle of paranoia inside me.
Don't worry, [Y/N], everything will be fine. You and Namjoon will say goodbye to Jimin, he'll be happy to see you, and everything will go as planned.
And those moans you heard...?
Maybe he was watching porn!
Of course, [Y/N], believe it. Porn. Keep hoping.
But I can't go back now: it's all make or break, as they say. I try to convince myself that everything is fine, there's nothing wrong, but my tracheas have already started to close up and the air is suddenly getting thinner. If I was nervous before, now I'm terrified. Terrified of Jimin's reaction, terrified of the person who might be in the apartment with him, terrified of everything and everyone.
Namjoon immediately notices my agitation and places a hand on my shoulder. I try to steady my breathing, and as I do so, he whispers reassuring words in my ear.
- [Y/N].. nothing's happening. Relax. It's just you and me facing Jimin, okay? You're not alone this time. I'm here with you. Now calm down. Breathe.. good, that's it. Breathe, exhale. Breathe, exhale. -
So, after concentrating all my physical strength on my arms, I push open the door that separates me from the apartment building. It's now or never.
Hmm. Jimin's apartment is exactly as I remembered it. Minimal, simple, modern.. bare. I'll leave it to your imagination to imagine what a penthouse in Manhattan, purchased by a rich (and stingy, at that) person, overlooking the city, would look like. The prospect of waking up every morning to a view of New York skyscrapers doesn't excite me, even though I'm sure it must be an early morning sight, at dawn.
Jimin let us up, yes. So, Namjoon and I went up. Right now, he's exploring my boyfriend's apartment, under his watchful eye. Jimin isn't at all pleased with the exploratory missions his old friend is undertaking, as I can tell by the stiffness of his shoulders and the suspicious glances he's casting at him, but he doesn't complain and leaves it up to Namjoon to uncover the most hidden corners of his little house. Always within the limits he sets, of course: the bedroom is strictly closed to visitors, and one of the two bathrooms is off-limits to uninvited tourists. Jimin's penthouse has quite a few rooms: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a study, a guest room, a living room, and a fantastic kitchen. He often boasts that his kitchen is the nicest in the entire building, but that remains to be verified. The fact is, the guy isn't doing too badly.
Jimin's first expression when he saw I was accompanied by a guest was one of shock. His mouth dropped open, his eyes wide, his movements suddenly stiff and robotic, as if frozen. Not exactly the reaction I was expecting, after months of not meeting in person. Only later did Jimin realize I was there too, and only then did he decide to hug me. I won't lie, he continued to move with the grace of someone with a broom stuck in his rectum, and that wasn't reassuring at all. No, not at all. My boyfriend managed to redeem himself and regain a little bit of my trust a few minutes later, inviting Joonie and me to sit at the glass table in the middle of the living room for a chat and some appetizers. It wasn't long before Namjoon gave in to curiosity and begged Jimin on his knees to visit his little house, and my boyfriend reluctantly agreed.
So, Nam has started wandering aimlessly around the space, and is currently lost in analyzing Jimin's study. My boyfriend and I, meanwhile, are having a funny encounter in front of the glass coffee table, two steaming cups of tea in hand. What's the perfect recipe for an awkward conversation about everything that happened in the past few months with your boyfriend? Take an old friend who's currently invading the boyfriend's personal space, add a dash of discomfort over the size of your boyfriend's house, a pinch of shame over the financial difference between you and him, and a good deal of awkwardness from all those months you were apart. Mix well, put in the oven, bake the dough. Oh, and remember, forget about the cream of things to talk about! Otherwise, the discussion risks getting heated.
I thought it would be nice to visit Jimin without even telling him, but now I realize that maybe, just maybe, it would have been better if I'd told him. At least he'd have had enough time.
- Um... so. How... How's it been going lately? - Jimin chirps, clearly embarrassed.
- Good, I think. I mean, as usual. Nothing... Nothing new. You...? -
- No big changes. Just the hectic life in Manhattan. -
- You should get an apartment outside of New York, so at least you'd be safe... living in the city is expensive. -
- True. But at least I make a good impression on my friends, right? -
I huff a hint of a smile. Jimin's personality hasn't changed, either. As the minutes pass, the conversation becomes calmer and more relaxed, the awkwardness and tension disappear, and little by little Jimin and I loosen up, regaining the sense of comfort that once bound us. Now, I can happily say I've missed Jimin. We drink the tea in our cups, we joke together, and for a moment it feels like we're back in high school, when we were still immature kids. I am now too, but that's just an irrelevant detail.
My boyfriend has grown up. In the months since we've been apart, his jaw has become more pronounced, sharper, and his hair is shorter than I remembered. He must have trimmed it recently. He's actually taller, too, now that I think about it: the last time I compared our heights, he was only a little taller than me, but now he's several inches taller. Not to mention his face and body like a Greek god: I have the vague feeling his panettone-like behind has risen even further. Someone stop that thing before it explodes.
The atmosphere is generally very soporific and slow. The sound of the clock ticking provides a pleasant backdrop to our chatter, complemented by the muffled sounds of Namjoon, tucked away somewhere in one of Jimin's closets, digging through piles of designer clothes. Or at least, that's how it is until we hear a scream. A high-pitched scream, to be precise, that doesn't match Namjoon's voice.
Jimin freezes. His shoulders stiffen, his jaw tenses as if gnashing his teeth, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance and tension. In a fraction of a second, he's on his feet, sprinting in the direction of the scream, trying to prevent further damage. By now, however, the damage is done. I follow him; the situation is suspicious. Worrying. There's a familiar feeling in my stomach, a tangible knot that recalls the bitter feelings we feel with guilt. It's not guilt, though. It's the opposite. My stomach turns against my brain; I still don't know what's causing the scream, but the damage is done. Anxiety and insecurity mix, giving rise to nausea, a barrage of paranoia and unfounded fears that hit me like a runaway train. It creates an unpleasant contrast to the peace I previously felt.
I see Namjoon walk out of a room with a devastated face. And then I realize my worst fears have come true.
A girl, thin and slender as a pillar, with long black hair, follows Namjoon. Her face displays the same devastation I'd seen on my friend.
The next few seconds seem to pass in slow motion. A ticking chimes from the clock. Jimin's sweet, melodious voice reaches my ears muffled; perhaps he's trying to explain that it's all a misunderstanding. I wish I could believe him. Nam approaches me. My vision is blurry, I wander in the fog like a bird that's lost its flock, and now, disoriented, I'm trying to find the path it already knows it's lost. I'm not sure, but it seems to me that Jimin's lover is suddenly worried about me too. It's probably because my head is on the floor, my limbs don't respond to the commands I try to give them, and my voice is stuck in my throat.
A rhythm. A suffocating rhythm echoes in my ears. A song, a boy dancing sinuously to the tune of cheerful music that speaks of love, sweetness, and memories. A room. A guitar, a bass, a drum... the echo resonates in my eardrum. I'm underwater, yet I hear the indistinct voices of the people next to me as if they were an inch away. There's no one around me, no one who can save me, yet the voices I hear are exactly here.
Suddenly, confused words stagnate in my eardrum. I hear a voice, a scream, a desperate cry. I don't know who is calling me, yet I recognize their voice as a friendly voice wanting to save me. A hand, an arm, cuts through the water and grabs me.
- [Y.. [Y/N]! [Y/N], please.. Wake up.. -
I immediately open my eyes and unconsciously inhale as much oxygen as possible, as if I were still in the water, but I realize I'm on dry land, on a soft mattress. The object smells good, like home, it smells like something that makes me feel good. Namjoon. The drowning sensation hasn't gone away, but at least I can breathe properly.
- Nam.. Namjoon.. I.. what am I doing here..? Where am I?! Namjoon! -
- [Y/N].. [Y/N], it's all right. I'm here with you. Don't worry, I'll help you now.. there, see? It's nothing. You're safe now. -
Namjoon hugs me tightly, not letting go, and for a moment I feel my lungs crushing under the weight of his muscles.
- N.. Namjoon.. You're crushing me...- I hiss, trying to wriggle out of his iron grip.
- I thought you'd never get up again. I missed you so much, [Y/N]. -
- What the fuck are you talking about? Did I just... faint? -
- Yeah. -
Namjoon moves away from me. Immediately, I regret asking him to move, feeling the aching, emptiness and warmth Namjoon leaves behind. However, I don't move. I don't let him know how much I need him beside me, I don't complain about still having his caresses. I don't move. I'm a statue. Looking around, I realize I'm in Namjoon's room, in his apartment. How did I end up here? One moment I was at Jimin's, and now I'm in my friend's bed.
- Nam... Can you please tell me what happened at Jimin's house? -
I see Namjoon fidgeting with his fingers, twiddling his thumbs uncertainly, looking everywhere but at me. Fear and anxiety are gripping me.
- N... Namjoon...? -
- [Y/N].. I... I don't know if I should tell you. -
- Namjoon, please! -
- It's okay. You... You fainted. You had a panic attack after... After you saw the girl Jimin cheated on you with. -
One sentence. One simple sentence. A handful of words. I didn't think my entire world could fall apart with just a handful of words uttered by Namjoon.
Jimin... cheated on me...?
And in an instant, I remember everything: the strange way Jimin spoke, the stiffness of his movements, the conversation with him that gradually became lighter... until Namjoon returned to the living room with a strange girl next to him. Namjoon. It was Namjoon who found her. It's his fault that my relationship with Jimin is ruined now... tears stream down my face. Nam immediately hugs me, but I angrily pull away.
- It's your fault! It's your fault that now... why, why do you always have to be so nice to me?! For once, couldn't you mind your own business and not think about me?! -
I scream angrily, without a clue what I'm saying. Jimin isn't with me anymore. He's not with me anymore.
- [Y/N].. I... I'm sorry... -
Namjoon's sobbing voice reaches my ears, pierces my eardrum, and reaches my brain as it tries to process his apology. Why is he apologizing? Because I told him. Because I made him believe he did something wrong by revealing Jimin's secret. Everything's wrong. I'm... a problem.
- Don't... apologize. Stop, please... it's my fault Jimin cheated on me. If only... If only I weren't like this, maybe... if only I were a different person, maybe Jimin would like me more. -
- [Y/N]. [Y/N], look at me... it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. It was his choice. If you're not together now, it's because there was something wrong in your relationship, but that thing isn't you. You just... weren't meant to be together. -
Namjoon cups my cheeks and forces me to look into his eyes. I look back, through tears, and try to regulate my breathing. He rests his forehead on mine and smiles sweetly and lovingly, and I feel loved, protected. Only he makes me feel like that.
I'm not with Jimin anymore.
A powerful thought creeps in. Looking into my friend's watery eyes, I try to calm myself. It wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything. It was Jimin's choice to cheat on me.
I didn't like him that much anyway.
There's another guy who's perfect for me. Better than Jimin. Better than anyone else.
I can't think anymore. It's as if my body suddenly stops responding to my brain's commands; my heart takes over. My torso leans forward in an involuntary gesture, without a clue to its actions, and my mouth, wet with salty tears, rejoins its twin in a kiss.
For a moment, it feels like the world has stopped. There's no Jimin, no girl he cheated on me with, no anxiety. Only Namjoon. My friend doesn't know what to do. He's stiff, sitting next to me on the bed. The hands that were previously on my cheeks slide down my body and land helplessly on the mattress. His mouth is soft against mine, which is wet from crying and my lips are all chapped. I don't move an inch, afraid my movement might break the bubble that's formed between us. Contrary to my expectations, Namjoon moves first.
His lips begin to move timidly, as if testing the waters, and noticing that I don't resist, Namjoon begins to kiss me more forcefully, more passionately. He tilts his face slightly to gain better access to my mouth, stealing my breath. The butterflies in my stomach explode into a passionate dance. I purse my lips slightly under his. He kisses me timidly; instead of a kiss, it feels like he's caressing my mouth. He pulls away after a few minutes, lacking air.
Those three little words take me by surprise. I thought he'd felt the same things I've felt, but instead... the feeling is one-sided. It must be one-sided.
- You... Did you regret it...? -
- What?! No! -
- So what...? -
- I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry because Jimin cheated on you, and you're feeling bad, while I'm here worrying because... I like you, damn it, I like you, and I shouldn't be happy that your relationship with Jimin is ruined, and yet it is! -
- You... What?! -
Oh. Well, that was quick.
- Namjoon. Look me in the eyes. And shut up, for once...! -
Nam stops babbling, and with shaking hands, he looks up at me. I can see how scared he is, so scared he can't speak, and how he's trying to stay still and composed, instead of getting up and running away from this stressful situation.
- Look, you're right, okay? I'm hurting. I'm sad. Jimin left me, and I'm probably not ready for another relationship right now. - I begin, immediately noticing how Namjoon's watery eyes are starting to moisten. The sight breaks my heart, and for a second I'm tempted to deny everything I've said and jump into his arms. But I have to stay rational, for my own sake and his.
- However... that doesn't mean I don't like you. In fact, I'll say it clearly: I like you. When I was still in a relationship with Jimin, the relationship didn't feel right. We saw each other very little, very little, and... Well, to be honest, yesterday was the first time I'd seen him in months and months. I had a crush on you in high school. I... I never confessed because I believed, and still believe, that you could never love someone like me. Come on. I am. I can't even order a pizza without stumbling over my own words! - I laugh, laughing.
- You've always been there for me. Even when I didn't deserve anyone. Seriously, it's pathetic: who has fucking social anxiety these days?! I think it's the fact that you've always been so kind and considerate towards me that made me fall in love with you. When Jimin asked me to go on a journey together, I didn't think much of it. Since I could never be with you, I used Jimin to forget you. Ours was never a love relationship; I'm not surprised he cheated on me. In fact, I'm grateful: if he hadn't, I probably would never have confessed to you. - I finish my overly long speech with a sigh.
I'm too scared to look up and see what my (no longer) friend's reaction is. However, I don't even have time to gather my thoughts and gather my courage before Namjoon surprises me with a hug.
That's right, a hug. His hands lock on my back, I feel his tense muscles relax against my body, and his now calm breathing tickles the sensitive skin of my neck. I can't put into words what I feel when I realize Namjoon is sobbing. Soft sobs shake his toned body, and his hot, salty tears soak into the shirt I'm wearing, making it damp and sticky against my skin. His reaction is completely unexpected. I expected anything but a hug filled with emotion. My friend's heart is pounding so hard in his ribcage that I can hear it echoing in my ears.
- Namjoon... what's going on..? -
- [Y/N], I love you so much! How could you even once think I didn't feel the same?! I hate you! -
- You just said you love me, idiot! -
- [Y/N]. [Y/N]! Listen to me. I... okay. I understand not being ready for a new relationship. I totally get it. But... can we still try..? Let's start slowly! -
- Is that seriously all you took from what I said..? I've been talking for two ice ages! -
- I had a crush on you in high school too. -
- You... what— -
- Not now. -
- Huh..? -
- I'm completely lost for you. Marry me. -
- Namjoon! Let's go slowly! -
- Right. The anxiety. Slowly. I'll help you! You'll get better. I want to help you. Let me help you! -
Yes, the boy is really gone.
- And... Jimin...? -
- He can go fuck himself. - Namjoon replies, with the sweetest, most loving voice I've ever heard. He gently takes my face in his hands, looking into my eyes. His lips curl into a tender smile.
- [Y/N]...? -
- Hmm? -
- Can I kiss you...? -
I nod. And, in an instant, his lips are on mine.
I can't write romantic shit 🫤
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