Princess || KNJ✅

Part Twenty

The flurries from last night turned into a blizzard overnight. When I woke up, the sun was rising right over the winter wonderland outside of Namjoon’s house. I bet the city is still busy with people despite the weather. I can imagine my dad aggressively rolling over in his grave. He hated snow. 

Namjoon was still sleeping when I woke up, and to be fair I was an early riser this morning. I couldn’t find the shirt I was wearing last night, so I put on the white button down Namjoon wore with his suit that fell all the way down to my knees. 

At first it was hard for me to stand up. My legs felt like jelly but I got myself together enough to stand up, but I was still kind of limping. I limped myself over to his full window wall of his bedroom. 

Namjoon’s house looks like a winter vacation resort when it is covered in snow. You can also see the city in the distance covered in snow. Little flurries fell from the sky, either because the blizzard is slowing down or about to pick up again. 

I thought about waking up Namjoon, but he looked so peaceful sleeping. He kinda snores, but it’s soft, not obnoxious. I snap a picture of his baby-like sleeping face with his polaroid, and took the film off to his study where I planned to spend the morning reading. 

When I left the bedroom, I came into contact with something I didn’t expect. There was a bunch of people walking around Namjoon’s house casually. Cleaning and polishing things. Most of them saw me and stared like I wasn’t supposed to be there. I just awkwardly slipped off to the study and closed the door. 

With all the books Namjoon has in this place, it felt like that moment in Beauty and the Beast when Belle walked into the bigger than the milky way galaxy library that was just sitting there in the castle. 

I’m Belle, the house is definitely a castle, but Namjoon is too handsome to be a beast. Maybe he is the beast after the curse is broken. So many books from people I haven’t even heard of. Some of them in different languages. Some on shelves I couldn’t reach. 

I found one that wasn’t exactly a book, and sat down with it on the bay window. It was more of a binder that was just big enough to fit a printed piece of paper. And on those pieces of paper were poems with no author.

Some of them were angry, some of them conceited, some depressing and thought provoking, but for the most part they are soft, bubblegum, love-dove things you wish your ex said to you. 

I read half an hour into them before Namjoon, dressed in a white shirt and grey joggers, found me in the study. 

Namjoon: There you are.

Me: Who are all the people here? 

Namjoon: You mean my staff? 

Me: Oh. I didn’t think about you having maids and butlers. 

Namjoon: Don’t worry I already sent them home. Besides, Ms. Park was hurt you didn’t say good morning. 

Me: I have social anxiety 

Namjoon: Right. Scoot. 

We sat up in the bay window so that I was sitting between Namjoon’s lap and perfectly laying against his bulky chest. He started playing with my hair while I tried to continue reading. 

Namjoon: What did you find there? 

Me: It’s like a collection of poems. Speaking of which, where is the one I bought last night? 

Namjoon: Princess, you bidded one hundred dollars on it. You didn’t win it. 

Me: *laughing* Oh. I didn’t think anyone else would bid on it.