Summary: Namjoon feels down. So you help him out.
Genre: Fluff‼️‼️‼️these bitches in LOVE‼️angst(?), barely, Namjoon is just upset because of the military. Nothing new. Also there’s like a kid, but it’s not yours. Namjoon wishes it was tho. He’s over and under stimulated as my mutual described lmao. Fem! Black reader x Namjoon
A/N: This was supposed to be short and sweet but now it’s been over a week and it’s over 1K in words🧍🏾♀️. Based off @littlelunababi ‘s post. So, bless their beautiful brain. I don’t know exactly how to feel about this fic other than she needs to LEAVE.
Namjoon has been depressed lately; the military, unconsciously, had made its primary mission to suck the life and soul out of him. He finally got a brief rebrief from his station, so you took it upon yourself to cheer him up.
He scrolls lazily on his phone, looking at the attraction; he sees pictures of furniture hanging from the ceiling, kaleidoscopes, and a floating cube underneath glowing people’s reviews.
“Remind me about this place?”
You grab a Ziploc bag and place your sandwich in carefully so as not to let it fall apart. You pull out two cold waters from the fridge and store them in your purple picnic bag, answering him matter-of-factly.
“It’s a museum of illusions. Everything in it is a trick of the mind and eye.”
You pack in a little bag of chips and zip up the bag slowly, adding a cheeky mumble of, “It’ll be good for you.”
———————————————————————————
You both arrived at the museum smoothly, with you driving and Namjoon taking rein of the aux. You paid for the tickets despite his insistence and pulled him to the curated sea of wonders. Anti-gravity rooms that made him feel nauseous; rooms that made his 6 '0 foot stature look like nothing while your shorter self looked giant. An illusion that made it look like his head was on a platter, which amused you enough to say:
“You should use this for your next music video.”
He responds by giving you a dimpled smile and cataloging it for later in his mind. They were simple, fun distractions; things to calm his overworked brain for a fleeting moment; however, it didn’t stop completely. In the distortion room, he felt something shift. Both of you standing across from each other, having each other's features placed onto one another, left him breathless. He had always thought in a way you were mirror images of each other; maybe, even more than that. Maybe something more cosmic. Perhaps part of your souls had been separated at birth and had only become full once you both had met; seeing your dark fox-like eyes and full lips reflect on his rounded nose and arched brows—it felt otherworldly. It felt right.
His eyes remain glazed over, looking at the way your eyes shift so naturally on his face, as if they were always meant to be there.
He sees the way your mouth moves in place of his and subconsciously raises his eyebrows to match the way your, his lips move; gently furrowed brows, raising lightly with each syllable that clicks in your shared teeth.
He phases back into reality.
“Where were you?” You ask gently; there’s no true accusation in your voice, maybe a hint of annoyance, but it’s to be expected with someone like him.
He chuckles lightly, shaking his head when he looks at you standing beside the illusion. He only sees himself and a panel of zig-zag mirror reflections giggling back to him. He replies a little exasperated, looking down with a half smile.
“Y’know, I don’t even know.”
You can’t muster anything but a sigh.
———————————————————————————
He feels the same shift with the infinite hall of mirrors. He feels as if he sees something deeper than an optical illusion. He feels he sees your past, present, and future. The you from yesterday in your sweats and bonnet; the little girl that had your eyes when you showed him your family photographs. He swears in one of the multiple images of you both that he can see the ghost of a little girl standing beside you; she has your coiled curls and bright eyes, but when she smiles, he can see his dimples. He feels if he reaches his hand out enough, if he could just graze upon his other selves’ fingers, he could meld them all together; he could dissolve them perfectly, bringing them all to this moment.
“Baby, we are not supposed to touch it.”
He feels you touch his arm firmly to ground him, preventing him and his reflections from that cosmic meeting. He looks down at the small sign near the mirror with printed font saying “DON'T TOUCH THE GLASS.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He says sheepishly, looking down as if he offended the mirror personally. He looks to your side, seeing the little girl who looked so much like you both run back to her frantically worried mother; he knows that she wouldn’t come to you, but it crawls under his skin a bit. It doesn’t feel completely right. You follow his gaze, laughing slightly.
He finally rests his arm down to his side slowly, feeling his mind rekindling with his body; with your arm following suit, you look at him with a glint of knowing worry hidden in curiosity.
He pauses softly, looking at your endless selves in the mirrors.
“You think we’re together in every life?”
You chuckle softly at him.
Eventually, you both leave the museum hand in hand. He sighs a bit fussily; he’s not truly ready to end the day.
A small drive occurs in comfortable silence; eventually, ending with you taking refuge at an abandoned lot. You unbuckle yourself to sit on the rear back of the car, eating the food you had brought. You quickly urge Namjoon to do the same under the threat of eating everything yourself. He follows you and the food loyally, but sitting on the back of the car feels unsafe for Namjoon; his gangly, destructive limbs itching to make him fall and crash onto the soft grass, but he keeps stable for the most part. You sit comfortably, only shifting occasionally to come under the blanket you had brought.
“Want some more?” You nudge the small purple jar toward him. The savory smell of kimchi jjigae hit his nose like a slightly strong pat from a friend. He shakes his head softly, removing his attention from you to take another bite of his sandwich. You shrug loosely, closing the jar not to let the stew get cold. Namjoon takes a deep sigh, looking up at the full moon eclipsing you both in a faint off white glow.
You sigh as he did with a deep contentedness that, if peeled underneath a bit, reveals an unanswered yearning; something that Namjoon knows all too well. You’re both cut from the same cloth.
He looks at you as he sees you trace out the nonexistent constellations with your nebulous eyes and thinks: I’m so lucky; Namjoon always thinks he’s lucky. He’s lucky to be alive, he’s lucky to grow and change. He’s lucky to be in BTS and be so loved; however, with you, he feels the luckiest, because he loves you.
You hum soft and slow, as if savoring the sound on your tongue. You lean your head on his shoulder, shivering lightly; observant as Namjoon is, he grasps the blanket in his hand and casts it around your shoulder; his arm envelopes you, bringing you closer to his large frame.
“I mean it. You’re like…my reason.”
Your eyes flutter closed. Namjoon looks at your peaceful form with a level of mischievous fondness. You’ve never been good at handling his poetics, but it was late; the night hung the amorous moon, and coquettish stars out, influencing his skittish mind to proclaim his every love-rattled thought to you.
“…I think you’re the truth, yknow? I thought that I’d have to like, to wait like..a 10, 20, 50 years for the truth, but you just are it. The truth.”
You look at him leisurely. You scoff faintly; it has no real bite behind it. He continues in his ministrations, clearly in one of his moods.
“Words can’t, um—can’t describe it. Not really. It's like…trees grow into the ground…the sun rises with the moon..and the world turns; you’re the truth, the reason, the dream, so to speak.”
“How do I say…you’re…you’re–you’re everything. Not cause you’re sexy, although you are. It’s your mind; your aspect..?”
He takes a tentative pause, furrowing his brows.
“Personality. That’s the word. Your mind, personality, and wit. It’s all real. It feels more real than anything…at least to me. I know people might disagree. Everyone has different opinions, thinks they know better like “oh, this and that” but that’s all bullshit. You’re my person. My pride. My love, so I think that's…that’s something.”
He finally looks back at you, finding your eyes filled with an intimate warmth that he knows that only the two of you share. You speak slowly, teasingly.
He chuckles huskily, leaning his head down to lightly bump your foreheads together; from this angle, you can see his lashes kiss his face like a careful lover. His arm squeezes you firmly, clicking your bodies together like puzzle pieces.
You look out at the night sky like an old woman looking at the vision of a lost lover, sighing slightly.
He looks at you with a subtle mix of bliss and disquiet; He always worries too much.
“You’re saying all this, and then you’re gonna leave back tomorrow. I won’t see you for another couple months, even though we'll both be in Korea. Right now, physically, you’re here. I’m here. We’re in the same place, but soon enough, we'll be separated.”
You look at him softly, your eyes shining with a faith melancholy. He looks back, speaking softly, beneath that softness, a hint of bitterness arises; the kind he unconsciously tries to suppress, so as not to become as violate as he knows he can be.
You bust out laughing, tipping your head back slightly.
“Let's get home before I can’t drive us.”
Namjoon smiles at you fondly as you both slide off the rear end.
You stop momentarily to look at him, smiling faintly.
He stops in front of you giving you and your words his full attention.
“I do think we’re together in every life.”
He smiles sweetly at you, grabbing your hand with a soft squeeze. He couldn’t ask for a better day.
Divider credits to @k1ssyoursister
