The Light of Dead Stars | KSJ

07

Seokjin sits on the couch of the holding room, legs and arms crossed and eyes closed as he waits for the start of his presentation which is in half an hour.

Donning the blue suit you'd chosen the other day, he takes in the quiet of the space, letting his mind work and relax at the same time. He's glad you'd insisted that he bring his coat; it's cold, like you said, and no amount of hot tea can make him warm up. He's a little nervous, if he's being honest; he's human like that.

There's a soft knock on the door and he instructs the person to come in, his eyes still closed.

"Are you... meditating?"

"___, it's you," he says, opening his eyes in surprise, having not heard the door open. "I thought it was Yoongi. I didn't expect you to be here."

More like, he didn't think you would be. He'd voiced out his nervousness, too shy to ask you to come since he knows you're also busy and well, you're not exactly required to attend, even as his "wife."

"Ah, well, I saw your father at the office and he seemed a little disappointed I'm not with you," you narrate. "I didn't want to seem like a neglectful partner so I came."

He hums, not thinking much of your reason for showing up.

"I felt like you're gonna do well, anyway," you add, "so I didn't think you'd need the luck of my presence. But I don't mind, actually. I've seen you deliver presentations so many times and I know I'm gonna learn a thing or 2 from you today," you say, earning you a faint smile.

You take your seat next to him and nudge his knee. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just a little nervous," he shrugs.

"Really?" You sound surprised. "You're gonna do great, Jin. We've been practicing all week."

You're right, you both have. You've spent almost every night listening to him vocalize his presentation because that helps his flow. He wants it to sound natural but still practiced; you almost memorize it yourself.

"I have to speak as the President now, and to young people; that holds a lot of responsibility," he says.

He hasn't been President long, and he's been delivering speeches in the past months, but a presentation in front of those who may look up to him as a role model - some have noted that he is - adds so much pressure. And because of that, he's anxious and he's glad you're here before he takes the stage.

"Well, you already look the part. And I know you're gonna smash it. If all else fails, just give them that brooding look of yours and they'll just get hypnotized or something," you comfort.

He laughs at your idea of a last resort and finally smiles.

"Anyway, I'll only be here for your presentation. I have to head out right away since we have that directors' meeting," you say, standing up and he follows.

"Sure, no worries," he says, removing his trench coat, wrinkling his suit a little because of it.

"Yah, careful."

You mindlessly fix his collar, your fingers tracing down to fix the hem, too. With your eyes focused on what you're doing, you don't notice that his are focused on you, surprised at how you'd acted reflexively and being as close as you are.

You look up and meet his gaze, a millisecond of you getting hypnotized before you snap out of it.

"Sorry," you chuckle. "You need to look perfect, and well, you do. I'll see you after, alright?"

He doesn't get a word in, as you're turning around right away and heading out the door, questioning yourself why you'd done the wife thing and fixed his suit when you'd usually make him fix it himself. Perhaps the comfort of the last weeks have made it too easy, moving closer like that.