i'd pick more daisies. [namjoon x reader]

epilogue: i'd pick more daisies.

It was five years later, and it was the Summer time. Beautifully hot weather, with large stretches of orange-blue skies. The city was decorated with balloons and posters and banners, as far as the eye could see. You saw all of this as you sat in the car with your husband, on your way to a concert. Your husband had replaced Xavier at your workplace after multiple complaints of harassment and he was soon gone. However, then Troye was placed in the office and you guys really hit it off. His love for producing music took you both all sorts of places and you enjoyed the free tickets. You both got to sit at a fancy booth above the stage where you could see everything, which was quite an experience.

"Are you excited?" He quipped suddenly and you smiled brightly at him.

"Of course I am," you nodded and put your hand on his. "I think I'd be more excited if the venue actually told us who was playing tonight, though."

"I'm not sure, either, sweetheart. They performers got changed last minute."

You shrugged, not minding too much. Troye parked at the theatre parking lot, locking his car securely as you both got out. You looked around with a little chuckle. "Wow, I haven't been here in forever," you comment. "It makes me feel pretty old if I'm honest."

"Well, we certainly aren't getting any younger, are we?" Troye teased as he opened the doors for you and you walked in. The familiar scent of perfume filled your nose as multiple crowds were inside, waiting to get into the concert hall. Troye took your hand and led you upstairs, to the room that sat above the hall, where you could watch without being knocked over by anyone. You were glad, too, because you were sure that 90% of the crowds were teenagers. 

You sat comfortably in your leather seat, peering down at the stage before you. All the people were pouring in and you were getting excited. You had never seen so many people so dedicated before, it was refreshing.

"Honey," Troye said and stood. "I'm going to go and check who's performing tonight. I'll be back soon, alright?"

You nodded, "Of course!"

He slipped through the door and you leaned back in your seat with your legs crossed. The stage was lighting up a beautiful colour. It went from yellow to blue to red, but finally settled on the most gorgeous royal purple colour. All the fans below screamed, as the performer would obviously be making their appearance soon. You turned your head instantly as your husband hurried in and sat beside you. "I haven't missed anything, have I?" He asked.

"No, I think the performer is just about to come on," you informed him. "Did you find out who's playing?"

"Oh, I did actually! He's a Korean artist," he explained. "His name is Namjoon, I believe. He's a hip-hop artist."

You felt as if you couldn't breathe for a moment, and that feeling carried on as the stage curtains parted. A shadowy figure emerged from backstage and sure enough. There he was. For the first time in five years, you were confronted with him. You hadn't even been able to prepare. You were between bursting into tears and laughing until it hurt. The music was loud and it rang from the speakers but your ears fell silent. It was almost as if everything was tuned out. The music, the sound of Troye commenting on the show, the screaming of the fans. Your grip on your arm rest tightened, you didn't know how to react. You leaned closer, as if that'd help your situation. You stared at every inch of him. Your eyes were wide and your chest heaved.

Then he looked at you.

He tilted his head back to stare up at the booth. And he looked at you. Your eyes met and every memory you had with him flooded back so fast it hurt. You instinctively stood. Troye stared up at you with a confused expression. He asked you a question but of course, you couldn't hear. You mumbled some excuse before picking up the skirt of your dress and dashing out of the room. You sprinted down the stairs, across the hallway and bounded outside.

The warm Summer air welcomed you and enveloped you in some kind of comfort. Your chest heaved, your eyes were wet without you even noticing it and you slumped against the theatre wall. The feelings were still washing over you as you turned your head and realised you were sitting beside a large plant pot. Filled to the brim with daisies. You plucked one slowly, pressing it to your face and inhaling deeply. You kept your eyes closed. Your head was hanging, still against the sweet-smelling flower. You smiled. Then you laughed quietly. You stared up at the sky and you thought to yourself.

  If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds.

I would pick more daisies.