Chapter Text
Absolutely impermissible. Such dry words coming from a pretend cook of two years.
The hypnotic scent of brewed caffeine should have taken him away from his constant worry, but instead, it drew him further into the very despair he was trying to escape from.
I can do without you.
I don’t need you.
These two sentences string themselves in his head, in an endless loop. Like a trance. He only had seven videos that are pending to be shot, and he knew Jungkook was going to be furious once he finds out what happened.
She walked. That’s what happened.
No relationships last forever. But Yoongi’s relationship with money did.
So, is it on? - JK, of G.C.F
He didn’t know what to reply.
Jungkook of G.C.F, only the most brilliant mind behind every rising star of the online broadcasting. Everything he touched turned to gold, and he had Yoongi to thank for that. Yoongi was his first and most successful filming production to date, so far.
Yoongi knew that Jungkook didn’t like sudden change of plans.
Especially when it came to food get-together and work.
Yoongi is a self-taught cook with 200,000 subscribers on his channel, without ever revealing his identity. The concept was simple. It was to focus on hands, and the silhouette of a ‘married couple’ cooking in their neatly organized and fully aesthetic kitchen full of pretty kitchenware and cutleries. The idea was intriguing to young hopefuls who wanted a domestic life as perfect as that.
None of the audience knew.
None of them knew.
That Yoongi only wore the wedding ring for the video.
That the video shooting of the perfect kitchen takes place in a rented apartment in Gangnam.
That the cutleries are fully sponsored.
That the role of the wife was this girl he met through instagram.
That the 'domestic married couple’ doesn’t exist.
And that, it was just a concept coming from Yoongi’s idealized marriage.
Now, the girl who played the role of Yoongi’s wife had bailed out the rest of the project after two years of working together.
Why? Because she caught feelings.
Yoongi was all business, still is. And she was ruining everything by confessing that she liked him.
All Yoongi did was told her as it was.
That he wasn’t going to drag her along a painful relationship where he does not share the same affection as she does.
He thought he was doing her a favour. She was a struggling fresh graduate who is still trying to find job after one year graduation. She was paid to be in Yoongi’s video. She was paid a hefty amount of money just to show her hands, cutting shallots and shaping potato croquettes.
She got paid! What more did she want?
“A relationship!” Her voice slashed through the silence. Yoongi tilted his head to the side and shook them with a light-hearted scoff. It sounded surreal, almost fantasy. From his face, she knew that the man she loved didn’t believe in the idea.
The idea of a true affection, unpretentious relationship.
And that baffled her, greatly.
“I love you. We worked together for two years and I made it obvious, but you didn’t catch any glint from me…” she cried.
Yoongi blinked to the side, scratching his scalp, trying to find a possible escape from the fishnet he didn’t plan to get caught in. He felt like a fish caught on a hook, struggling to break free while the fishing rod was being mercilessly tugged.
“It was work. We were pretending to be husband and wife! Online!”
He added a dry chuckle that wasn’t supposed to be there but he had no other choice. Clearly, she had misunderstood the affections he had staged, as real.
“I suggest, we put this behind us, and continue shooting the rest of the season. I will pretend I didn’t hear any of this, and we can be professionals again,” Yoongi advised, with a careful tone but she stepped back on each step forward Yoongi took.
“Pretending is the only thing you’re good at,” she spat.
Love… Yoongi chuckled.
An utterly ridiculous concept.
Simply barbaric. Unrealistic.
The cinnamon croissant he ordered was served on a small saucer next to his bony wrist. But as he tried to reach it, another hand came to grab them. Delicate, perfectly shaped nails, without a drop of lacquer, every bone moved with an exquisite elegance that Yoongi couldn’t describe without using the word: dreamy.
Protruding knuckles, that turned white when stretched as it was lowered to the cup handle. He had never seen such proportionate phalanges.
“Can I help you?”
A succulent and gently voice swam pushed him into his sub-consciousness before yanking him back into reality he was barely able to return to.
“Y-yes,” Yoongi was taken aback by that impressive red hue of a brown eyes that is almost too majestic to be called a human,
“That’s mine.”
“No,” the voice melodically replied in a slight defensive tone, “These are mine. Those,” you pointed to the saucer on his left, “are yours.” You passed him a faux smile and returned your attentions to the papers you brought with you.
Passing a quick glance all over the busy coffee shop, you kept an eye on one particular man as if you were trying as hard as you can, not to gain his attention. Quickly, you straightened the folded papers of what seemed to be an advertisement spread. Yoongi caught the word 'Room’ and several detachable lines of phone numbers of what he assumed to be yours. You let out an exhale through the O-shape of your lips and pasted the ads after shoving the rest of the cinnamon croissant into your mouth before fleeing the scene, leaving behind your unfinished hazelnut latte. Yoongi couldn’t even process anything in that short amount of time.
“Hey! I said no advertisement!” A grouchy holler came from the barista corner and it was a guy with red hair, wearing 'Hoseok’ name tag. But the door was shut before he could get to you and because he was working, he couldn’t leave the premises.
You stuck out your tongue at him and something tells Yoongi that you two weren’t just sharing a barista-customer relationship. The antics were too close for comfort between mere strangers. Yoongi watches the whole scene from afar.
Interesting.
“…I told her many times not to do that,” Hoseok grumbles to himself, and taking the chance of him turning his back towards Yoongi, Yoongi tore one phone number strip and kept it in his pocket.
Given his photographic memory, Yoongi was able to remember the address she wrote. And because he was familiar with that side of Gangnam, he got off the taxi and texted Jungkook as he stood before the sophisticated building of three-storey apartment.
It’s on.
Sent.
He caught his lower lips between his teeth and dialed the number written on the paper. His heart suddenly quickened its pace, and he wonders why it’s acting up this much.
He was merely saving his only career, the only thing that keeps paying his bills, and the apartment he was about to let go because someone had to cross the professional boundaries in the name of 'love’. Yoongi shuddered at the thought of that poor girl. He knew he was doing a lot in order to run away from someone who loves him, but it was necessary. That’s why he took the number.
“Hello?”
His heart skipped, his stomach flipped.
“Yes, hello. Gangnam Apartment? For rent?”
Yoongi then heard a few shuffling and a small squeak.
“Yes, this is she.”
You clasped your phone in your chest and jumped up and down because you didn’t think it would work. But there’s a potential tenant! You were almost confident that Hoseok would have taken it down the moment you stepped out the coffee shop. But with this caller, this potential tenant, you might be entirely wrong about Hoseok’s personality. You can have a roommate and you’ll be able to eat full meals this month. Your stomach grumbles at the thought. That kimchi stew you’ve been craving. It’s going to be in your tummy soon.
“I’m already here, in front of the building…” Yoongi squinted his eyes to the apartment’s name and glanced behind him to locate where the rented studio apartment he shot with Jungkook was, to make sure he was in the right place.
“Yes! Yes, that’s right…” you exclaimed, “Just walk right in the first block. I’m on the second floor, standing on the balcony.” Yoongi shot his head to the first block and there you were, in oversized dress shirt that he just knew belonged to a man.
Why did he felt a tinge of disappointment? What was he expecting?
You bowed politely at him and smiled.
“Min Yoongi” he introduced himself, shyly, “…We met earlier in the coffee shop.” He tilted his head to one side, feeling rather odd to be describing something that she shouldn’t have forgotten.
“Ah!” You gasped, loudly, “I remember you! You try to take my cinnamon croissant!”
Not one of his proudest moments.
He was so bothered about his current situation and the shoot that was going to be cancelled and paychecks that were about to be delayed because he couldn’t find a replacement in time, and then he remembered,
That was why he was here.
“So you’re interested in the room I’m renting out?” You chirped and tapped your keycard to the keypad and it beeped elegantly open.
Right.
He was here as a tenant.
He came as a tenant.
“Very much, yes…I know the area and I’ve been wanting to move,” he lied. He has a penthouse in central Seoul under his name. Pretty wealthy, but a simple disruption will make his numbers shake, so he will do all he can to stop that from happening.
“Oh!” You smiled, “That’s nice… where are you staying right now?”
Uptown Seoul, he answered in his head.
“Downtown, Ilsan,” he blinked rapidly. In feigned expression of truth, that included nodding slowly. Will you buy it?
“Ilsan is very far,” you gave him a lopsided smile.
“I don’t know what you’re looking for but,” you held the door open for him to enter and the first thing he saw was this sunshine yellow oven, with white marble counter, and interesting choice of colors all around.
Glittery golden living room that is only painted on one side and from the wavy details on it, Yoongi could tell that it was painted personally.
The couch was emerald dark green, that made him wonder where on earth did they sell one of those in Seoul? Two seater, with a round coffee table that is made from 100% beige wood.
The red fuzzy rugs underneath contrasted with everything there, and it looked colorful, and out of place but very well put-together.
It was mind boggling for Yoongi, how prettily everything was set up.
The youth remains in this living room in every piece of fine furniture that are handpicked by the owner.
“…Are these furniture,” Yoongi drawled.
“They’re handmade, mostly customized… I made them all. I sewn everything on that couch. Knit the rugs, designed the coffee table, painted the walls,” you trailed your eyes over the furnishings, glide your hand over the perimeters with a lingering smile, a pride in yourself,
“I had a vivid image of how I wanted it to be, so…”
You shrugged, leaving the sentence hanging and passing a shifting glance at Yoongi who was surprisingly taller than you expected.
Cute eyes. You thought.
Interesting choice of attire though. All black.
Not wanting to stall any longer, you showed him around the house. “Well, the room I intended to rent is across the other end of the hallway.”
Yoongi’s eyes couldn’t stop gravitating towards the neat kitchen with colorful kitchenware. It was so well put-together, an almost picturesque view.
“It has a tall ceiling, and very good airing system. The best in the house I think. A wardrobe,” you showed that built-in closet and a tiny mattress on the floor, “I didn’t get a bed for this room because it was beyond my budget,” you explained.
A rather simple room.
“How much?” Yoongi shot.
Already? You were shocked.
“KRW 600,000. Two months deposit, bills and utilities will be paid after one month,” you shot.
“Done.”
“I usually put my tenants on trial for one week before the contract is signed, if that’s okay with you?”
“KRW 600,000. Is it negotiable?”
“Why? Is it too pricey?”
Yoongi pauses and placed his forefinger on his lips, staring into your fingers before glancing back up on you.
“I run a cooking show online, is it okay if I use your…”
“…kitchen?” you intruded.
…Your hands.
And make you play my fake wife.
So the online video can go on as usual. He thought.
Yoongi nodded hesitantly.
“That would be a win-win situation. Because my kitchen could be put to a good use. It feels like it was on display, because I hardly cook…”
Is that regret in your voice?
“500 thousand and I provide everything in the kitchen in exchange to use them,” Yoongi suggested. A hefty 100,000 is cut off. Will that be okay for you? The room has been empty for three months, and you cannot go on fasting anymore. 500,000 is still a good sum of money.
“Deal.”
Yoongi walked into another cab, having Jungkook on the line. “…I found one candidate, but you have to push back the shooting date by a week.”
Jungkook was fixing his camera lenses, and Yoongi was on loud speaker. He glanced to his semi-crowded planner and twisted the lenses onto his camera.
“…Three days, hyung. I can do the shoot in three days,” he wipes the lenses with static cloth, delicately with his thumb.
“I can’t convince her in three days, she just met me today,” Yoongi sighed into the phone. “It’s either three days or you’ll have to wait up to three weeks. I am fully booked this month, hyung,” Jungkook clicked his tongue and straightened in his chair before lowering his head to his phone.
After a long pause, Yoongi finally said, “Fine.”
“I also moved location, I’ll send you the address later on.”
“Move?” Jungkook contorted his face.
“I am renting a house in southside Gangnam,” Yoongi answered.
“Okay why?”
“I have just seen an angel’s hands.”
.
.
.
“…where is that blouse,” you grumbled to yourself, sifting each hanger one after another, furiously. You were certain you brought it home from dry cleaning, but why isn’t it here with the rest of the dry cleaned clothes? Suddenly a cloth slipped through the hangers and fall on your feet. A hoodie. Mold green, fallen helplessly on the plank flooring of your apartment. Your gaze dropped to where it was and you felt your heart leaped into your throat and a familiar sting prickled your eyes, to water. It dried faster than it could pool, and for that you were grateful.
Squatting down next to it, you pulled the hoodie closer and took a whiff of the faint cologne that was once, so prominently, there.
“I was so thorough,” you whispered to yourself. Not thorough enough. I guess.“There’s just so many things to do at home,” you sandwiched your phone between your shoulder and ear, “I have to get the designs ready for the office preview, and I don’t have time.”
“I call bullshit on your errands, it’s the weekend,” Seokjin huffs.
“Look, I’m just trying to cheer you up. You’ve been like this for 15 months. It’s time for you to open a new page and start over.”
“I don’t have to open a new page.” He wasn’t even on any of the pages.
“I’m not thinking about Namjoon, okay. I’m fine, and I’m living okay,” you raised your voice a little. "Really? No one mentioned his name. "Moving on? How do you move on from someone who meant the whole world to you? Who made tomorrow matter? Who made each day feel like an adventure because you never knew what he was going to say to you today. He was a huge chunk of your life without really being in your life. Seokjin’s only concern was that you would go have a wild night and regret what you did the next day. He of all people would know how devastating it was to go through what you did. He was after all, the one who introduced the both of you to each other. Seokjin was in the mart, purchasing minced meat. There was only one pack of minced meat left and another hand snatches it before he could get to it. This young man, or a boy–Seokjin frets, with double helix piercing and bunny set of front teeth brazenly smiled at him and tip the beak of his black baseball cap before shoving them into his shopping cart with little to no remorse. Seokjin almost picked a fight right there and then. Not because he wanted that minced meat that much, but because of the smug look the lad threw at him.
.
.
.
"Jungkook, get some sirloins as well while you’re at it,” Yoongi commanded. “There’s only one pack of minced meat left, hyung…is that okay?” He scratches his double helix piercing and waddled to Yoongi lazily with his shopping cart. Yoongi nodded but elaborated on nothing else.
“So this idea you had for the new season,” Yoongi mumbled while staring at the nutrition details on the paprika seasonings.
He was mentally judging of how lazy people are nowadays. Jungkook shot his head up with sparkles in his eyes. “I thought of doing a dessert recipe,” Jungkook leaned on the handle of the trolley by the elbow, looking up at Yoongi who was earnestly choosing garlic powder from the racks. “Not bad,” Yoongi muttered, “But I don’t like baking. "Jungkook’s smile disappeared in a second, ”…I got nothing.“ "Maybe you’re not as creative as you think you are,” Yoongi threw the garlic powder pack into the semi-filled trolley.
“I’m not going to do shopping with you anymore, this is what wives do with their husbands,” Jungkook looked around to see endless couples, loitering. “Why don’t we do that?” Yoongi suddenly replied.
“What?”
“Film us buying ingredients.”
.
.
.
.
.We think too much, and feel too little. –Charlie Chaplin. Shoving the box back into the base of the closet, you dropped to the floor and leaned your back against the leg of the bed.
For that brief moment, you reminisced on how different your life looked like a year ago. When the apartment had this neo-modern design that was appropriate for men, you thought. You quickly worked on the designs of the furniture that you wanted there and how. From the colors of the walls, to the materials of the rug, you were determined to have everything remodeled, rearranged, re-designed. You still have the blueprints of the old apartment. By the lower drawer of your bedside table, if you remembered correctly. Yes.Yes, it was there. Still is.
Unfolding it one by one, you revealed the blueprints, smiling so widely the sun would probably be blinded. It brought so many fond memories, and it was something that showed how much you had grown as a person and as a designer, until you saw:) ;)It brought so many old memories. The smiley emoticon drawn on the tip of the blueprint brings up so many memories.
All of them. The good ones and bad ones. The ones you wanted to forget. But how could you forget a boy you loved so so much. He had the brightest smile. The sonorous voice ringing through the phone.
Your favorited person.
He was the calm after the storm and there was something about his presence that was comparable to home. A firm ground to stand on, a safe land to embrace, an assurance like no other.
The thoughts came rushing in without mercy of the things you both went through. The bicycle rides through the Seoul Forest, the way he invaded your personal space and eased his way through, he pierced your bubble and urged you to live in the real world along with his firm support. He was the kind of comfort you didn’t know you needed. “We had dreams.” He once said.
Fold. Shove them back in the drawers and hoisted yourself up the floor and began vacuuming the room that is about to welcome a new tenant. The plan remains. The contract will be finalized in a week time, for you to analyse if he will be a good addition to this home. He runs a cooking show, and you are finally happy that the kitchen will deserve an owner that appreciates its presence.
Jungkook walked into the house with his camera bags while Yoongi carried the last box of his belongings into his new home. With wide, wondrous eyes, Jungkook sighed pleasantly. “She is a very good homemaker. Everything looks so…” he pauses and splayed his fingers wide, spanning it across the room, “perfectly together.” Pulling a tall stool out, Jungkook drummed on the kitchen counter and hung his jaws open, he was mentally calculating the meters of wires needed for him to set up the cameras.
“Are you sure she’s going to be okay with this?” Jungkook asked. "Probably no,” Yoongi answered, kicking the last box into his room,
“Most definitely, no” he pursed his lips. “But this is the only way we can convince her,” he ruffled his hair and checked his phone in case there was a message from you but there wasn’t any.
“…Is she single?" For once, Jungkook asked a pretty smart question. Yoongi went over the observation he had over you. The first time he saw you, you were very defensive over what was yours, the cinnamon croissant. Then, you stuck your tongue out at the barista named Hoseok, and fled. When he arrived at your apartment, he saw you on the balcony in a large white dress shirt that clearly wasn’t made for a woman. After a thought, Yoongi decided,
"Maybe?" And with that answer, the handsome young cameraman scoffed, "What kind of boyfriend would be okay with a male housemate?” "Look around, hyung… there’s no ounce of male presence in this house. She’s single for sure.“
"But she was so natural with male acquaintance." "Good relationship with dad? Has older or younger brothers? "Jungkook had a point. And because he was getting smart with his words, Yoongi decided to shove him to start setting up cameras above the stove and everywhere he needed to get a good shot. It didn’t have to be perfect, but just give a rough idea on how the video will look like. The cameras are no larger than the size of a pager and it fits easily on the hood of the stove and behind tiny plants.
Jungkook is meticulous in his job. Securing the camera in and making sure it works. And invisible enough to avoid her attention. Although he is not sure whether she will not know it’s there. Jungkook hope she doesn’t, and in that field, he has to rely on Yoongi’s magnetism and charisma to entice her. Let the show begin.
.
.
.
Day 3 of inhibition.
Breakfast hours. Weekday. "You’re on record,” Jungkook texted Yoongi. He had an earpiece on so that he knew what Jungkook was seeing on-screen. Yoongi is in the kitchen and camera angles were adjusted just to show him tying up his brown apron. The camera above the stove showed that he had placed mushrooms on the chopping board, next to onions and peppers.
“…Hello, good morning,” a female voice made Jungkook tip his chin up and stare at the screen. “She has the cutest morning voice I’ve ever heard,” Jungkook breathed and Yoongi put his face under the camera that was placed above the stove and judged him. You waddled next to him and filled the red kettle with water from the tap. Placing the kettle on the stove, Jungkook had a clear view of your hands. “Are you cooking breakfast?” you asked him.
“Do you eat breakfast?” Yoongi replied.
“I usually have coffee and get something heavier at work during lunch,” you darted with a light chuckle. “So you leave your stomach empty until noon?” Yoongi mumbled, chopping the onion finely, and, “That’s not a good habit to go with, for a very long time.” You giggled through your nose and and prepared instant coffee in your orange mug.
“Will you join me for breakfast?” Yoongi offered. Leaning your hip to the counter to watch him slice the mushroom into small cubes, you gave it a slight thought. “Only if you let me help you cook?” you suggested. “I already love this couple,” Jungkook spoke through the in-ear.
Done, deal.
Yoongi showed where the eggs were and you helped crack them open in a bowl. The skillet is prepared and drizzled with olive oil. Potatoes were peeled and chopped into one inch thick cubes before thrust over an oven-safe tray. You helped sprinkle the salt and pepper on the potatoes while Yoongi mixed them with his hands. Then he drizzled with a dash of vinegar and olive oil. He pushed the tray into the oven, “Set it to 180 and 15 minutes,” he commanded. “I don’t know how to,” you confessed. Patiently, Yoongi taught you how, after he washed his hands.
“This knob is a timer, and this controls the temperature. Sometimes we have to preheat the oven, but this time, it’s just potatoes and we don’t need that kind of intricacy so, just turn this knob to 180 degrees for 15 minutes, this knob here for time.” “But do keep watch from time to time, for me…” Yoongi added. Then you scooted next to him to watch him chop scallions. Whisk the eggs you helped him crack into a bowl and watch him expertly pour them down the skillet. As it sizzles, he put in mushroom on one side of the omelets and onions and green peppers, before grating a block of cheese on top.
“Can you help me grind some black pepper please?” Yoongi asked and you did exactly as told. He made the second set of omelette the exact same way and folded them into half. When Yoongi took out an interesting set of plates, you didn’t hesitate to ask, “Those doesn’t look like regular plates…I’ve never seen anything like it before. What are they? Clay?" A nod is passed, with pursed lips and Yoongi laid the omelettes on each with the roasted potatoes he took out from the oven.
"Kohiki tableware,” he added a needed pause, to re-arrange his words properly so you could understand, “They are clays with high-iron content, and they originated from Japan. Stylish, isn’t it? I made them.” “You make plates? That’s so cool,” you pulled the tall stool out while Yoongi set the plates for you from inside the kitchen counter. Then he joined you after you asked him for your coffee mug.
“Coffee?” You offered. And it was the first time Yoongi ever had company for breakfast. It’s easy to make friends.
“Aren’t you late? It’s almost 9AM,” Yoongi asked, chewing his potatoes gently and you shook your head.
“I go to work at 10am,” you explained to him. Playing with the omelette with your fork, you bit your lips in contemplation. “I…enjoyed this,” you hummed to the food you brought to your lips.
“Thank you, omelettes are simple breakfast, it was no trouble and you helped a lot too… You shouldn’t leave the house with just coffee,” Yoongi advised gently. “I meant, I enjoyed cooking with you,” you etched a smile in the corner and glanced at Yoongi,
“ I hope it happens often. I will get up super early to get breakfast if it means cooking with you.” You dropped your head, getting shy. “Maybe you could help me with the groceries later, what do you want for dinner tonight?” Yoongi slowly replied. “I’m not really picky with my food, but I don’t like fish,” you chuckled low. Suddenly, Yoongi remembered something. He reaches for his pocket and took out a string of necklace with a black whistle as a pendant. “I was cleaning the room last night and this was under the bed,” he placed it on the table and the shock in your face was not admissible. Blood drained out of your face.I was thorough. I thought I was thorough. Your heart whispered, staring down the necklace with utter horror. You couldn’t even bring your hand to clasp it, not to mention near it. But you stayed as composed as you can.
“I didn’t… Namjoon would never leave his things,” you stammered nervously. “Namjoon?"You shot your eyes up at Yoongi, a nervous pair of eyes.
"He… I will take that.” you explained and paused before you took the necklace into your palm, downing your coffee in one shot before hoisting yourself down the stool, “ Look at the time… if I don’t leave right now, I will be really late.”
Yoongi couldn’t help feeling puzzled. Questions like, who is Namjoon? How long did he stay here? And where is he now? Clouded his mind, but because he didn’t know the guy, he washed the plates and set them dry. That’s when a whiff of an Elizabeth Arden perfume danced around his nose.
Gone were your striped trousers and oversized Tees. You look different when you go to work. A good amount of sophistication and high-degree of professionality oozes out the moment you step out to take your sling; boxy black leather bag that you fit your MacBook in. Zipping your phone into the bag, you enquired Yoongi one last time, “The grocery for dinner, it’s still happening right? Do text me. I get off work at 5pm,” you passed him a polite smile, inching out the doorway before you snapped your head, muttering that you forgot to take your car keys.
“Oh shoot…” you grumbled to your chest, staring at your sport shoes.
“My car keys,” you added and Yoongi caught the mumbling and offered help.
“My room, on the bed,” You told him. He waddled down the hallway, untying his apron and twisted the knob of your bedroom door open. You had a pretty pastel pink wall and an interestingly white furniture. Contrasting maroon red duvet over a yellow bed sheet, fluffed pillows and a hammock by the window where your six feet tall wood book rack stood. Yoongi took a quick glimpse and snatched the car key on the edge of the bed like you said. He watched you leave after a hasty goodbye and caught himself worrying about you. Isn’t it too early to have these feelings?
.
.
.
“You’re always like that, hyung…” Jungkook sighed into the phone, “Overly caring. That’s why the girl before her mistook your gestures.”
Jungkook had a point, but Yoongi wasn’t entirely convinced. Yoongi had always been his own savior. He always had been his own savior. Power of intuition, sensitivity, and skilled at subconsciously reading others’ body language was one of the reasons why Yoongi would rather look elsewhere than into someone’s eyes, because he was afraid of what they might see in him.
Which made people feel the mysterious aura he tended to unintentionally display. He was just too afraid of being seen. Too afraid of being transparent. To be predicted. He was brought up in a poor household, never born of money. Having to decide between food and transport everytime he left for school made him ache to earn more for his family, and for himself. Early on, Yoongi already intended to make money his sole goal in life. He felt like it was the source of all happiness. He made it to a famous culinary school but as he started to gain recognition internationally, he begin to become self-conscious and often anxious. He developed anxiety, and self-loathing. Disliked seeing himself on-screen. During a broadcasted culinary competition, Yoongi walked out of the competition arena because his hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
He was gaining too much attention, and he felt like he was standing under a microscope with all the watchful gaze, these voices in his head and in his ears.
There were decisive demands from his family with the money that he had gotten from participating in a Michelin restaurant, and his gullible self had given the whole sum to his father who eventually invested the money in a shady company that turned out to be ghost association.
Yoongi remained positive but decided that it would be safer to cut his relationship with his blood relatives until he could find enough to regain his reputation. In came Jeon Jungkook.
A struggling videographer, with a measly 232 followers on his YouTube channel.
He proposed an idea to Yoongi.
A cooking show. Yoongi, being camera shy, initially rejected the idea, finding that his recluse self shall never recover from the embarrassment he posed on himself that year in Berlin. Until Jungkook suggested to only show his hands. Still, the views aren’t enough to make a living. Yoongi had to come up with another idea. That’s when he mustered up his strength to lure in a financially struggling college girl who worked at a beer shop, offered her a free cooking lesson so he could use her hands for the video instead of his. Jungkook left certain part unedited and by accident, Yoongi’s hand made an appearance as well. So, the views shot up beyond imagination.
Who knew, veiny hands were a profitable kink?
.
.
.
.
I can’t fix your heart, if I don’t have all the parts.
“For the meeting today, I have prepared a rather meticulous spreadsheet, regarding costs and material gatherings, since our client is very prudent in having the furniture made from certain artists from certain countries, and we’re lucky to have the expert here today, to aid with that. Please welcome, our lady…"You stood up upon the call of your name, "I don’t know why you’re treating me like this, we’ve known each other for many years and worked on many projects together, this is making me feel awkward all of a sudden.
But yes, hello. I’m looking forward to fully utilize my knowledge and I hope you guys will guide me well.”
“With that behind us, without further ado, can we have our Miss to the front and speak about the designs she had discussed with our clients before hand?" In a rush, you took out your MacBook Pro from your bag along with some good old notebook. The VisVim Law Enforcement Whistle necklace is tangled around the only pen you brought, and you had to untangle them to begin the presentation.
Basically, you showed them the furniture the clients wanted and saw if the team could come up with the handwork necessary to have it done, so you didn’t have to do it alone. Some of the furniture was built-in. That’s why you have to work hand-in-hand with interior designers to make sure everything is synchronized and in a state of harmony with the idealization the clients had pictured in their mind. They were impressed with the levitating table top for the dining area that was as uniform as the levitating magnetic bed intended for the master bedroom. Next in line was a spiral design stool. Four in total.
"Swedish pinewood, you say?” One of them asked. “That design is patented, if I’m not mistaken,” another one dashed, “Patented designs cost more, are you sure the clients are informed about this?” You nodded, slowly.
“I mentioned that the Swedish company will not let their patented design leave their country but the clients were willing to pay all necessary costs in order to have this design,” you played with your fingers and looked anxious.
“We have to call them to have their permissions,” the team leader looks around in his casuals. But everyone lowered their heads. They didn’t like talking to the Swedish spokesperson.
Understandable.
So that is your concern, now. Your eyes bore into the whistle necklace.
Black screen.
.
.
.
.
Busy market. Pushing the trolley gingerly, Yoongi placed some macaroni into the cart while you told him about your day, like the days before. Yoongi is used to it by now.
“…So you have to call the Swedish company to ask for permission to use their patented design to make the stool for the client, along with finding a Swedish pinewood supplier so your team can start invoicing the materials?”
Yoongi is a very attentive listener. That’s why it is so easy to speak to him. “Yes,” you let out an exasperated sigh, leaning lazily on the handles with your elbows while Yoongi trudged the way.
“And I have no resources I could use in Sweden particularly, maybe good food will help me think,” you muttered to your chest, following his lead. “One step at a time, there’s no need to rush over things. You can see better, if you take yourself out of the context and have an overall view of the situation. Maybe you missed out some key options… maybe,” he emphasized. You see where he is coming from. Perhaps one of the most reassuring words you have ever heard, in awhile. In a long while, that is.
.
.
.
.
Friday movie night.
High on apple juice.
“Would you like to join me?” You asked when Yoongi passed the living room. “I have to plan recipes but…”
You both sat on each end of the turquoise sofa, watching the plasma TV, leaving an ample space for another person to sit in between you two. You hugged your cushion and Yoongi drank canned soda. The glass door was slightly open to let the night breeze in.
The volume of the television is not too loud, nor is it too quiet.
Just enough to have conversations over.
Love, Rosie was on-screen.
“He is very much like Namjoon,” you suddenly started. Lulling your head back, sitting on the floor and leaning against the sofa, hugging your legs. Your eyes were glued to the screen, but glazed.
Yoongi shot at your shoulder, the one he could see and took another sip of soda, just to let the thought sink in.
“Namjoon?” He asked in a questioning voice.“…Namjoon, Kim Namjoon, ”
Kim Namjoon, your heart whispered. "I bought him that necklace. That whistle necklace. The one he left behind,” your voice was drifting, speaking in low hushes. It urged Yoongi to leave the sofa and sit on the floor mirroring you, so he could hear you and understand you better.
“What’s he like?” Yoongi asked even though his heart felt heavy seeing how sullen your face look at the mention of the very memories you were so obviously wanting to forget. It’s like picking on the scabs of a healed wound, and it begins to bleed again.“He has this beautiful melanin skin tone, that he was so insecure about. He stands 181cm tall and has dimples when he smiles,” your eyes bore into the screen as Rosie stood at the pharmacy talking about abortion,
“Smart. Handsome. And one baffles me is that I never find any other heart, quite like his,” you glanced at Yoongi and shook your head a little, then turned your attention back at the screen.
“Where is he now?” Yoongi asked out of curiosity. “Where Namjoon needs to be,” you answered simply, with a bitter smile. “You know how sometimes you wonder why certain relationships don’t work, and it always concludes into self-blame because you feel like you’re catching a firefly when it’s dark and they’re the only thing you could see?” “I really adore him,” you breathed out the last sentence, barely audible.
“He was a safe place to land, his words were like mantras and I still use them to pick myself up from the ground, sometimes… Funny how things work in the real world,” you chuckled dryly. “I don’t blame you,” Yoongi started,
“We all learn about the idea of love through the screen,” he pointed his chin at the movie you both were enjoying.
“We came with a certain idea of how love should be, and sometimes we’re wrong, but no one will tell us that, because no one actually knows the right way to love,” Yoongi shrugged. “Or when,” he added. What Yoongi said, struck you hard. It was true. That you thought you were in a movie when you met Namjoon, and at the end of this movie, you both were supposed to be together, but it didn’t happen that way. So you were left disappointed.
“Maybe you’re right,” you hummed. “Maybe he wasn’t ready. But I couldn’t wait that long. He didn’t look like he was going to be serious with me,” You sighed, and, “No matter what I do, he just didn’t want to be tied down. But I had invested so much time and feelings, and I feel bad for wanting as much as I gave, blinded by the thought that he might actually want me…"Then, there was a long pause.
"About the Sweden resources thing,” you began, “I was supposed to go with him. I didn’t know but, I just wanted to see if I mattered enough to be in his future so I told him that I didn’t apply for the promotion. His answers were… unexpected”
It seemed so long ago, but so vivid in your mind. The walls were still unpainted by then. None of these furniture existed. You both slept on the only mattress you had. Dust was piling, smell of wet cement filled the air, and you lay next to each other, staring at the ceiling. Billie Eilish playing faintly in the background.
“The stark darkness of the night,
made the stars look brighter.
The coldness in the air,
make one yearn for warmth,
the warmth that only the sun could have provide,
but when the sun was here, did you appreciate it?”
Namjoon recited one of his favorite poems.
You smiled faintly to the same view as he does. “Do you think the stars know they shine?” You roll to your stomach and closed the distance, elbowing the mattress and tunnel your vision into Namjoon’s beautiful complexion, even in this dim lighting, he has the most breathtaking tones. Namjoon tucked one hand behind his head and clicked his tongue. A dimple formed briefly as he pressed his lips together in contemplation. “It’ll be a waste if they don’t,” Namjoon tutted his tongue. Namjoon moved his head to the side where you are while speaking, but his eyes stuck on the ceiling, “In the future, when we will go as far as our feet would take us, will you still be by my side?” “Always,” you rested the back of your head on the heel of your palm.
“You know,” Namjoon paused, “As a friend.”
You felt a pang in your heart, but you smile through it. Hoping that he didn’t catch the glint that disappeared momentarily from your eyes. But kind of hoping that he did.
That’s when Namjoon broke the news.
.
.
.
.
Copyright © December 17th, 2018 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading :)