It Takes Two (Kim Namjoon)

Disconnected

we going angsty hours let's get it !

***

I put the camera down, finished recording for the moment. Hoseok and Yoongi went back to discussing their new dance number together while Jimin turned his eyes to me.

"How are you?" I whispered, studying his face. It was pointless. We had agreed to give up pretenses, and it was easy to see the hope in his eyes.

His tone was light, bouncy. "I'm excited. It's going to be fine." He reached for my hand, squeezed it slightly before leaning back in his seat. Life had returned to Jimin in the past few days after we talked. He had dyed his hair a bright blonde that made him seem even more like a mochi, competing with Hobi almost daily for who could be the brightest ray of sun in the group. Namjoon and Jimin were back to normal, too, and I guiltily realized how much I had taken away from Jimin for so long. He hadn't just been ostracized by me, but by his leader and one of his best friends as well.

They chatted away now while the car approached our destination; a small performance venue and the first true public exposure after that interview. While everyone else was at ease, I grew more stressed with each block. My heart thundered in my ears, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my leg began to bounce nervously.

Jungkook handed me a bottle of water from my left side. "Breathe," he reminded me, patting my knee for a second to still it.

I nodded, though I remained unconvinced. "I wasn't made for this, Kookie," I said lowly.

He gave me an understanding smile. "Neither was I."

"Then?"

"People are always complicated, always multi-faceted. They're a puzzle of so many pieces, and even as honest as we are when you press that button—" he motioned to the camera lying in my lap—"we hide the darker parts. We always have, and you know that. You just need to figure out which parts you want to hide."

"I never thought I would have to."

His smile turned strained. "No, I suppose that wasn't in the job description." He inclined his head towards Namjoon. "But I'm sure you thought about it while you two were still being awkward as hell."

I nudged him with an elbow. "Don't swear."

"Okay, noona."

"Don't call me that, oppa."

Jungkook smirked but dropped the tangent, waiting for my response.

I sighed. "Of course I did." To be fair, I didn't think we would last this long. Get this far. Go through this much.

"Then I guess you already know he's worth it."

"Yes." The word was simple, straightforward. It was the only thing I was truly sure of right now.

Jungkook studied me. "But is he worth it to you?"

I blinked a few times at that, suddenly confused. Just then, we arrived at the small arena, and any other thoughts on the matter were quickly replaced as we prepared to exit the van. I turned the camera on again, which wasn't necessary but would at least give me a small opportunity to hide my face from the fans whose noises cancelled out every other sound and thought. It was time to put all the crap I had spouted a few days ago to the test, time to weigh what kind of ground Jimin and I had placed us on.

It was a battlefield, but not because of me.

Rarely had I gotten out of the car right after the boys, and rarely were they this close to fans while they had a tight schedule to follow, but managers insisted that this would be a nice gesture, especially after the turbulence online that was hopefully beginning to settle. Screams pierced my ears, all of them loving and focused entirely on the boys in front of me. I breathed a sigh of relief, calming down despite the chaos around me. It was fine. I was a shadow, a shadow in the background and a shadow of myself, of Viv. I was only a camerawoman, who was close to the boys but firmly dedicated to her job. No, I wasn't even close to the boys. I documented their lives, I was close to their camera personas. I would never know about their lives after I stopped recording. Translating for them during an interview was a fluke, a one-time occurrence that would never happen again.

I slid the mask in place coolly while I adjusted my hands to get a better angle of Taehyung's shoulders in the shot. I had a job to do.

"Yah," came a voice, and I turned instinctively, assuming it was someone else on the team. Instead, I found myself staring at a small group of girls, imposing from their facial expressions even if they couldn't have been older than seventeen. "Are you that girl who—"

I turned away quickly, before I could hear any more. I breathed as deeply as I could, trying to focus on Bangtan. That wasn't bad. Two or three to recognize me out of the hundreds here, the thousands more inside? Not terrible at all. I hadn't even stayed to listen to what they said. Maybe no one cared, after all.

When we finally walked inside, a pressure lifted off my shoulders. I had made it. We were fine. The performance went smoothly, the boys as dedicated to the show as always, and in no time at all they were coming off the stage, shaking their sweaty hair at me while I filmed them grabbing towels.

Seokjin was in the middle of hogging my shot of Hoseok when a phone whipped by the two of them and smashed against the wall next to us.

We all looked simultaneously, first at the phone and then at its owner. Jimin continued to glare at his phone, chest heaving more from emotion than exertion.

"Jiminie?" Yoongi asked carefully. He put a calming hand on his shoulder.

Jimin looked to me. "While we were doing the show..."

Namjoon's smile from one of Taehyung's jokes fell off of his face. "Yes?"

I tried not to let panic creep into my veins as Jimin's eyes filled. "I'm so sorry, Viv. Everyone."

"What is it, Jimin?" Yoongi asked.

Jungkook already had it pulled up. "There's photos of them at a market. Of them sharing food." He held out his phone for me.

I felt sick. "I was hoping they would let it be."

"They did," Namjoon said, studying his own phone. "This was a gossip column. Now some fans are running with it, or that's what it looks like."

"Damn it," Jimin yelled, beginning to pace. The boys took a step away from him, all fearful of what happened when Park Jimin actually got mad. Only I came closer, wrapping Jimin in a quick hug.

"Jimin—" I started.

"Get off of him," Namjoon snapped suddenly, and my arms automatically fell. I looked at him, hurt and confused at his tone. Jimin also took a few steps away from me, twisting the knife just a bit more.

Jimin hung his head. "It's too public here."

Understanding clicked. "Oh."

I bit my lip, beginning to shake a little. None of my friends approached me. "I think you should ride in a separate car back," Namjoon said. I looked at his expression, and the look there did everything that his body couldn't to comfort me.

I fortified myself, nodding resolutely. "I'll ask Haneul to switch with me."

But as I walked away from the group, the distance between us felt more imposing than the swarms of fans I had seen them face. I had never been so unsure of where I stood with them since my first few days, but we had all come so far together since then.

And I was terrified. Terrified for all of them, terrified for Namjoon, and dimly, terrified for my job, for myself.

Mostly, though, I was terrified that I would get into a car, away from them. I was terrified that it would become the norm.

I was terrified that it was the best option.