{MASK: kim namjoon fanfiction}

1. bus.

I wouldn't call myself anything but average during the weekdays. I have wavy, brown hair, finishing just mid waist, a thin set of bangs covering my (large) forehead, an extra chubby pair of cheeks that have an annoying tendency to turn bright red at the slightest of things, and a slightly chubby figure. The clothes that i tend to gravitate towards within these 5 days are turtleneck jumpers, loose t-shirts, either a pair of slightly washed out jeans or occasionally the odd skirt , but i usually cover up with a large, hooded, black coat. That coat is like my personal invisibility cloak. truly , the amount of god awful situations that that beautiful coat has gotten me through deserves a world record. Notice i said through the weekdays, not weekends, but I'm sure that part of my mask will break apart through time.

Everyday, Monday through to Friday, i wake up at 6am, and take the same 7am bus, (number 5613 to be exact) to Seoul, from my hometown, Busan, so i can get to my extremely underwhelming job of working at a run down, not so popular restaurant, tucked away between two office buildings around the city centre. we are accustomed to getting the same , regular clients , usually drunken office workers who come to complain about their broken marriages , or how their stocks have fallen, and there is a sweet old woman who insists on coming back every Wednesday because it was where her and her husband first met. apart from that, i can't say our business is thriving , but we make it work. what i'm trying to say is, it's not often we see a new face in there that we have never seen before.
it's the same with this bus. everyday, for three years, i have took this bus, and it is always filled with the same, exhausted faces. sometimes i like to imagine their lives, just by their facial expression. there is a man with white hair who sits 3 chairs in front of me, of which that always keeps his beard trimmed and holds onto his case for dear life. i like to imagine that he's secretly an undercover mafia boss, and his case withholds top secret information , but of course, he is probably just the same, exhausted office worker that i am used to seeing whilst working. my mind can be quite extravagant, to say the least.
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today's date is january the 11th, 2019. it is 7:24am, and the bus is just about to stop at a town just outside of my hometown. at this stop , a middle aged, dark haired woman with hawk like eyes and a completely straight face , along with a few other people are due to enter the bus. about 4. i turned my head towards the doors , expecting to see the same 4 people trudge through the glass sliding doors and show their pass to the jolly bus driver, who greets every single passenger with his wide smile every morning, to only be received with quiet grumbles or the occasional flash of a smile back, but usually nothing out of the ordinary, just the same, monotonous process. to my surprise , a 5th figure of a man followed behind that dark haired woman with the poker face. instantly, i noticed a tattoo upon his left arm, of a vintage mirror, but seemingly as if he had noticed i was staring, maybe through the corner of his eyes, he hung his scarf loosely over his shoulder, covering his inked arm completely.
i cant say that i am not inquisitive, because i know that i definitely am, but for some reason , i wanted to see this new person like i had seen every other face in this old bus. i wanted his story too, so i watched him whilst trying not to make myself look too obvious, looking at every single feature of his that i could. he had light brown , slicked back hair, of which that was shaved at the sides, he had a long, brown trench coat over his shoulder , with a black tshirt , black jeans, and a dark blue , embroidered scarf, with brown sandals. what an odd style choice for a warm day. as he flashed his seemingly new bus pass to the driver, he suddenly shot the widest, most beautiful smile to him also , his two deep dimples burying into his chubby cheeks, and before the driver could even return the gesture, he started to walk off towards a chair that was two rows infront of mine, to the left. as he walked up the isle, we made eye contact for no longer than two seconds. his eyes were shaped like two, mini crescent moons, and his stare was the sort to give you some sort of feeling in your stomach. unsettling? no. after seeing that smile , i can't decipher that, so i will just say a new kind of feeling. his lips were tinted pink , and he had a small, button nose. i turned my head away from him and against the bus window , feeling awkward after that short interaction with that stranger and feeling my cheeks burn red. i started listening to nothing but the dull vibration of the glass hitting my head , presuming he had already sat down by now.
i don't know how long passed, but i was starting to get sleepy. usually this happens on my journey, it isn't out of the ordinary , so i just expect that as always, the jolly bus driver will honk his horn to awake me from my morning slumber when we arrive at our destination. just as i am falling asleep to the dull chatter of nothingness , i move my head to the left side of me, pulling my hood over my head in the process , but i remember one thing as i fall asleep.
through my blurred vision, i see from about an arms length away from me, a vintage mirror tattoo , and then i black out.

that was the first morning.

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A/N: hello!!! this will probably make no sense yet and you might think it's moving too fast but i promise it will all make sense sooner or later lolol please don't judge me.

here is to my 0 readers lmfaosksjdksks.