Her Image (NAMJOON FIC)

Stars that have no luster

Before

     Nicole and Namjoon stayed up to watch the sun rise at the park, partly for the aesthetic value and the life experience, and party because they were worried neither of them was sober enough to guide the other one back home safely. They stayed back talking about their ideas on life and morality, exhausting every topic from nihilism to hair removal methods. They opened up to each other about experiences and thoughts neither knew about the other. That night, even though they were both too far drowned in their champagne to remember, their friendship really began digging deeper. Before, they had barely scraped the surface and were content with it, thinking the treasure was near enough. It was not until then that they realized, perhaps they were in search of a different treasure. 

"I've been meaning to ask you," Nicole said, "you've never talked a lot about your life before."

"Before?"

"Before, before being before the time we met. I know you're kind of shy when it comes to talking about yourself-"

     He cut her off. From his usual jovial, joking tone of voice, Namjoon switched all the way to the opposite end to the spectrum, and in a tone so stern it almost scared Nicole, he said: "I'm not shy. I just don't think it's a story worth telling."

"You are kidding," she said, outraged, "you're telling a writer there's stories that aren't worth telling?"

At least, that got his guards down and elicited a chuckle from Namjoon. 

"You're telling stories with happy endings, stories to cheer people up and tell them 'hey, don't give up! You're about to hit gold, you just don't know it yet.' My story doesn't have a happy ending. I worked hard, I thought I was achieving my dreams, and just as I got off my feet and on my wings, I flew too close to the sun and burned myself. Now I'm a burnt out sales scam man at a pyramid scheme."

"Wow," Nicole remarked, wide-eyed, "that was poetic. Ever considered writing your own book?"

"Heh, funny, I used to write my own songs..."

"I guess," she cleared her throat, "what I really want to say is that, you can't tell me that your story was a tragic ending. Forgive me, I don't want to feed your pity party any more, but you're a relatively well-off straight man, living in a relatively safe city with enough leisure time to enjoy yourself, and perfect health. Try counting your blessings sometimes, mopey."

     Something about what she said sat so strange with him- technically, she was right but technically, she was also wrong. Namjoon's stomach turned and his cheeks grew red and hot, trying to imagine someone like Nicole understanding his position. Despite having money problems, an abusive ex-boyfriend and a plethora of other problems Namjoon could imagine but at the time, was not really aware of, he could never picture someone like Nicole experiencing hardship. She could have as well been the shining posterchild of a coddled first-world girl. Everything from her refined social media image, her polished and well-matched friend group, to her extremely irreverent and confident personality made it hard to ever imagine her truly, severely suffering.

"I don't have anyone, Nicole," he said. 

     Despite mentioning her name at the end, it was more of an empty comment into the void than something he wanted to get across to her.  For four long years, four long tormenting years, he had lived isolated from society. Aside from the one-off hookup at the bar, vapid work-focused interactions with his clients and coworkers, and occasionally, talking to the barista at his favorite coffee shop, Namjoon had no one to talk to. Sometimes he felt the compulsion to air out his worries, not like someone would listen, but just to lighten the load on his chest. As he spoke, he felt the pressure lifting off, giving space for the tight knot blocking his throat to untangle itself, slowly and somewhat painfully.