Spring Day 轉; knj + ksj

Alpaca

I look out the window and see that it's still snowing which is surprising because it's already late in March. The weather seems to make me nostalgic. I'm thinking of those days when we used to play in the snow. You threw a huge snowball at me and I wasn't even interested in retaliating at that point. I thought you were stupid. No, I still think you are.

"Namjoon." I turn my head to Yoongi's voice. Min Yoongi is my manager and he says, "The interviewer is here."

"Oh. Sorry." I release the familiar polite smile I've given to everyone.

The interviewer greets me with a kind grin before taking a seat across from me. We're at the hotel lobby where all the sofas are located. The interviewer starts asking the typical questions and I answer accordingly. Then he asks me, "I've listened to Spring Day and a lot of fans have many theories. Perhaps you can share your thoughts behind this song?"

I know I shouldn't pause for too long because reporters pick things up easily, but I don't want to say something that's just for fan service. I'd love to explain everything. Unfortunately, I don't want people disturbing him. He deserves his rest.

I simply answer, "It's a song about missing old friends, but of course I'm open to all types of interpretation."

How very Kim Namjoon of you to say that.

I'm pretty sure that'd be what you'd say and I'm pretty sure you'd be mocking me later. I miss that . . . dearly.

Age 17

I always thought that my high school years would end in a mundane fashion. There'd be no particular memories. There'd be no sense of emotion or colour to my high school days. And I was perfectly fine with that type of life.

I was the boring sort with a squeaky clean record to my attendance and grades. All I did was study, study, and study. There were no after school activities because I'd just be going to cram school. The only friend I really had was my childhood friend, Park Choa. She was the opposite of me--popular, beautiful, and outgoing. She was the life of the party and cared more about fun than her own future. Despite how different she was from me, we were still close. After all, I've known her since kindergarten and she lived close to my house. Her parents even put me in charge of walking to school with her because they were afraid she'd skip classes.

"Joonie!" Choa called out to me from the front gates of her house while waving her hand back and forth. As she caught up to me, she complained, "Stop walking away so quickly! Sheesh. Can't you be a gentleman?" She made a tsking noise and then grumbled some more, "This is why you're still single. You totally don't sense what women want!"

"What?" I snapped at her with my hands buried deep in my pockets. I didn't need her to remind me how inexperienced I was for love. What was so great about it anyway? Love was just hormones acting up. "What do women want then?" I snickered while rolling my eyes.

"Consideration!" she bellowed so loudly that I thought my eardrums would pop. I gave her a good evil stare and then she elbowed me hard in the ribs. As I groaned in pain, she lectured, "I'm doing you a favour, okay? I'm the love expert here and it's a shame that you're not enjoying life more."

"It's a shame that your grades average a low 72%?" I retorted.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked. "You peeked at my midterms?"

"No," I corrected her. "You just left them on your study table and I did a mental calculation."

"Just because my grades aren't as good as yours," she argued, "at least I'm living a happier life!"

I rolled my eyes once more as soon as I heard that sentence. Then I reminded her, "Who's the one that was crying to me and stuffing her face with ice cream two months ago when that guy cheated on you?"

"That was before! Now I'm seriously happy!"

"Because?" I wondered.

Choa showed me her home screen picture and it was another new guy beside her. He didn't look like the typical type of guy she was interested in; this guy had a face that reminded me of an alpaca. Usually Choa preferred guys who looked more like gorillas with abs.

"Isn't he cute?" Choa squealed. I didn't know what to say so I chose to be silent. A few seconds of silence led to Choa slapping my back. "You're seriously the worst!" she grunted. "Couldn't you at least have said yes he looks like a good guy?"

I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. "I don't exactly want to lie and I can't really comment on someone's appearance from one picture," I explained. "Plus . . . it's . . . weird for a guy to rate a guy's looks. Brr."

"Don't be homophobic now!" she said. "You could have objectively said something like . . . yeah he looks cool?" I decided to tune her out and placed my earbuds in my ears to listen to some music. Usually, Choa would know that that was the time to leave me alone, but this time she yanked them from my ears to shout, "Why can't you ever be supportive of my choices?"

Before I could answer, she was already storming off to the subway station without me. I knew the answer to her question. I couldn't support her because I . . . was in love with her. I knew that I've said that love was stupid, but to be frank, I was the stupid one. I knew that she'd never pick me so I chose to ignore love. I concentrated on studying so that one part of my life could work properly. That was how pitiful I was.

I used to have dreams too, but then reality hit me when I first started middle school. When my father was laid off due to a recession, I realized that I couldn't dream anymore. What was poetry or music going to bring to me? My family couldn't support my dreams anymore, so I quit learning piano. I quit writing. I locked away those passions for a firmer grip on reality. Having a stable, high-paying job was what was important. I couldn't be rash anymore and I didn't want my parents to worry. I decided to be that boring, good boy and I really thought I'd continue that route until this day.

When I finally got to school, my English teacher, Mr. Lim, called me to his office desk. "Namjoon," he told me, "I really need you to do me a favour."

"A favour?" I wondered.

"Please tutor a student," Mr. Lim informed me, "and I'll write you the recommendation letter to SNU."

Mr. Lim was a well-established writer and magazine columnist, so I was more than happy to get a recommendation letter from him. I remembered asking him for one before, but he denied me. He said my essays and pieces lacked soul and heart. He didn't want anything to do with someone who was like that. Now he was offering me this? I had no idea why he'd do that. I was naive then to think that I was getting a free meal, so I agreed without much consideration, "Sure! Who is this student?"

Suddenly, the door to the teachers' offices burst open and the PE teacher, Mr. Park, was upbraiding a student, "Yeah! What are you wearing in your ears? And what's with that pink hair? You think you're all special now? Huh?"

I could only see the top of his head as the guy was shielding his head from getting hit by Mr. Park. "Now, Mr. Park, we should still stay civilized," Mr. Lim uttered.

"This rascal!" Mr. Park huffed while shaking his head side to side. "He's too much! He keeps breaking school rules! Just because--"

"Ah, Namjoon," Mr. Lim cut him off to let me know. "That's who you'll be tutoring: Kim Seokjin."

"It's Jin," the pink-haired guy with broad shoulders stood upright and scoffed.

"Jin," Mr. Lim pointed at me and introduced me, "meet your tutor, Kim Namjoon."

I nodded my head briefly only to accidentally gasp aloud, "Ah!"

"Is something wrong?" Mr. Lim asked.

"N-N-No," I mumbled while touching the nape of my neck.

Awkward. That was the one word I could use to explain our encounter. It was very awkward because I knew who he was before he knew who I was. He was . . . Choa's new boyfriend, the Alpaca who now dyed his hair pink.