The Siren's Song

Chapter 17- music is food of the soul

(Y/N) POV:

After waving goodbye to Namjoon and Taehyung, who albeit still looks guilty that I reach out to squeeze his arm reassuringly- wanting to see the sad look wipe itself from his face, Habaek oppa and I begin walking through the busier streets, close enough that our sides brush as he animatedly talks about the new project he wants to research and how Namjoon had been equally interested in it, wanting to work together on it.

Because of the bustling atmosphere, I turn to him and speak quietly, audible only to his ears.

"Why did you never tell me about Namjoon?" I ask curiously.

He looks down at me.

"I never knew that he was the same guy who both injured you and helped you when you went on that walk." He says dryly, face twitching with amusement.

"And besides, you never told me his name. Even if you had there could be plenty of Namjoons around Seoul- what was the guarantee he would be the same one?" he adds, commenting thoughtfully.

He's right.

And then he sighs dramatically, exasperatedly.

"And you and Mi-sun don't like hearing me talk about projects. You always throw cushions at me." he huffs, dragging out his pout and sullenly moving next to me.

I thread my arm through his.

"Sorry oppa~ you get so interested that we don't understand the terms you use at a point." I confess, watching as he ducks his head with a small flush.

But the coincidence that somehow Habaek oppa and I both knew Namjoon fades away, especially when he offers to treat me to a snack, gesturing to a corner café. 

The day ending with a revelation I hadn't expected and the slight feeling of guilt that I had made Taehyung feel bad- I don't know why that feeling lingered and stayed on, the look on his face flashing in front of my eyes when I lay down to sleep that night.

And the feeling of it lingers as I wake up- I feel frustrated because I can't figure out for the life of me why his face lingers in my mind, why the thought of the others I've met is becoming increasingly frequent.

Why is it that I am so easily comfortable in their presence? So easily let my guards down and want to spend more time with them?

Why is it they naturally emanate this sense of comfort which makes me feel safe?

The thought floats and buzzes around my mind, incessantly and makes me forcefully shake my head to try and dislodge the thought.

Have I deprived myself of contact with others for so long that meeting a familiar face is enough to make me feel excited? Make me want friendship?

Had I locked myself away that tightly and securely?

And for some reason despite all the confusion floating around my brain, making it a jumbled mess, I decide taking a walk might do me some good, some fresh air might penetrate through the questions and try make some sense of them.

So I slip out of the house- leaving a note for the two who'll be about to wake up soon.

And I pull on my headphones, wanting to banish the thoughts by allowing songs to filter through instead, soft melodies and sweet voices brushing against my ear as I walk aimlessly, mindlessly just letting my feet carry me wherever they want, walking past opening stores and weave my way through small crowds, eyes barely taking in the other people in my surroundings, snagging instead onto large trees, the sky, the clouds, the feeling of air brushing against my face. Because if there's one thing that's always remained constant in all the centuries I've been alive it's nature. There have always been trees, there's always been the ever-familiar sky with clouds dotting it on some days, and clear on others. Nature has been my ever-present unchanging companion in a world where time brings different rulers, different styles and fads, different thoughts and increasing mechanisation.