It Takes Two (Kim Namjoon)

Epilogue

if you've gotten this far and you're not forced by me to appreciate this, thanks. again, go find me on twitter, @ lamjoons. listen to not today by imagine dragons for this one.

***

I tugged the blue blinds open, letting the pale light outside filter into my bedroom. Slowly, I placed a hand on the cool glass, staring outside at the snow that was starting to gather on the ground. At first, I didn't believe that everything here would look the same as it did in pictures, and though it was different, it was very, very similar. The quarter of the city I resided in was ancient, and thousands of years of documented history practically flavored the air. The preserved architecture of the buildings and layout of the streets maintained the feeling perfectly, and I cherished that mood dearly, even if the uneven pavement was a nuisance during the winter. The thick, wet fluff didn't appear to collect well on the cobblestones, and I began to hope desperately that maybe the worn sidewalks wouldn't be as slick as they typically were whenever they became damp. This wasn't my first snowfall in this country, though, and I shuffled through outfits in my mind that would go well with my boots.

My phone broke my reverie, chirping at me harshly. With a warm mug of hot chocolate in hand, I watched people walk the treacherous streets of France without so much as a second thought, more hardened to the city than I was.

Like the streets, the manners were still taking some to get used to. My French wasn't that great, and I would receive a glare every time I mixed up a Spanish term with a French one. In addition, I still hadn't found many friends beyond my coworkers, who were entirely too stylish and too entrenched in their work, though they were still likable enough.

When the loneliness became too much, I would simply throw myself into history, into countless lifetimes and countless other stories more important than my own, all of which occupied me thoroughly. Museums and historical sights were numerous, and even though I seemed like just another foreigner, my three months here had afforded me some kind of confidence and command of the messy tourist centers, enough that I could avoid the most expensive places and order decent food with my terribly accented French.

Too often, though, I found myself helping lost Korean tourists. Whenever I saw a confused face, I couldn't help but start a conversation. Mostly because I was a nice person, or so I told myself, but also because I knew where I would rather be.

My phone chirped again, and I focused on the notifications. More news outlets talking about the band. Between another album, a world tour, and preparing for awards show season, my phone would often fill with news about seven boys who were very distant but very near to my heart. That same new album played quietly through my apartment right now, and though I could lie to myself about many things nowadays, I had to admit that there were times when I would simply repeat one section of a song, over and over, if only to listen to a voice I rarely heard anymore.

The thought hurt just a little too much this time, and when I ran out of new articles to read, my will folded and I opened up my saved voicemails. It wasn't that Namjoon didn't call anymore, but there was still a promise that we tried to keep as best we could.

I took a fortifying swig of hot chocolate before I pressed play, and the burst of warmth from the drink was quickly replaced by my natural reaction to his soft, low voice that made me feel warmth that surpassed whatever any hot drink in the wintertime could give me.

"Hey, it's me. I mean, it's Namjoon. Uh, I guess you would know that, right? That was stupid of me to say."

I laughed, like I did every time I listened to it. Still a dork.

"Anyway, I was just calling just—just to call, you know? I realized that I didn't know when your birthday is. Jimin had to tell me, which is really embarrassing, isn't it?"