Luxury Love | Kim Namjoon

Studio sessions

With the final strum of your guitar, your eyes opened. You looked at Laila who clapped her hands together.

"What the name of that one?" A deep voice from behind you asked. Your head whipped around. Your face was hot. It didn't matter who it was nobody was supposed to hear the song yet.

Namjoon stood with his hands in the pockets of his beige slacks. It mattered now.

"Oh my gosh. You weren't supposed to hear that it's not out yet." A fake smile stuck to your face. If you're not embarrassed it's not embarrassing.

"That's not what I asked." He raised his eyebrows. "What's it called?"

"I don't even know you." You nodded. Laila looked at you with confusion but shrugged her shoulders. She changed the name on the computer. "Do you like it?"

"I do. I find it, very relatable." He sat on the couch taking the guitar from you. "Teach me the cords will you?"

"Ya, ya of course." You taught him the song section by section until he could play the whole thing. "Hey, do you want to get on the track?" Reckless. You didn't know if you should've regretted saying that or not.

"Ya, that's why I'm here isn't it." He got up wiping his palms on his pants.

"What?"

"What your manager didn't tell you?" You shook your head at him, "I asked my manager to ask yours if I could feature on your album."

"How did you even know I was doing an album though?" Amina left out some very important information in her latest text.

"The French girl, from the café. After you left, she came to the table and interviewed me." Your friends had suddenly lost all their communication skills apparently. " I asked her where you were going to in such a hurry you had to cut our.... thing off short. She said that you were probably working on that new album.'" His fake french accent made you giggle. Which made him giggle.

"My manager failed to tell me that you were going to come."

"That's a lie," Laila said. Namjoon raised his eyebrows in need of an explanation.

"Well, she told me somebody was coming to shadow me. She did not tell me that Kim Namjoon was coming to collaborate on my newest album."

"Wait, you're Kim Namjoon?" Laila pointed at Namjoon. "Oh my god, I don't know why I didn't recognize you." They shook hands. "I'm Laila Rodrigo, I'm co-producing the album."

"Cool cool. Well if I am gonna be apart of this thing I should at least have an understanding of what the vibe is."

"I think it's going to be expressing my feelings. I've been working so hard with my label and being so young-"

"Wait, label?" He put his hand on top of yours.

" Ya, I told you this before right." The back of your hand tingled against his palm. "I'm creating my own record label, not a lot of people know about it yet because I haven't even signed a contract but things are looking promising."

"Dude that's huge!" He squeezed your hand. His eyes to yours, and it felt like time had stopped. The earth didn't spin. The city didn't bustle outside. Just two pairs of eyes. Two pairs of eyes set to one another like a sailor mapping out a constellation. Two pair of eyes like-

"Hey I'm gonna go get lunch, you guys should work on a song while I'm gone." Laila grabbed her keys and left the two of you in the studio. Alone.

"Why isn't your manager here?" You pulled your hand away but he held on a bit tighter.

"Cuz I'm not a child." His eyes moved around your face the same way they did that night in the bar.

"I think I would disagree." He had very nice lips. Soft and pink. They were round and plump, they looked like they would taste like plums.

"Hey," he snapped his fingers, "my eyes are up here."   Your eyes locked with his again as your cheeks grew hot. You felt like a middle schooler, scared to look your crush in the eyes as if he could reject your eye contact.

"Let me show you the album." You got up and walked over to the computer. "It's ok if you don't like it."

"Why wouldn't I like it. I told you the day we met that I like your stuff." It felt weird to talk about that night. Every time either of you would bring it up you would get transported back to the hazy red booth with his finger pressed to your lip.

"Well, it's kind of different from my usual sound." You pressed play and sat down in Laila's chair.

{here are some of the songs on the album if you want to play them while you read this and the next chapters. You can obviously change it to feel more like you but this is how I imagined the character,
~ prom sza
~ could've been her
~ breathe umi}

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his face was stiff with analysis. He leaned his head back exposing his neck. It was amusing knowing that the songs that you wrote caused this reaction to someone you like so much.

He turned the rings on his fingers slowly and
looked out into the space in front of him. You watched as his jaw moved as he ground his teeth against each other. You paused the track.

"You hate it."

"No i-"

"Namjoon it's fine if you do. Art and music are subjective. You don't have to like everything I put out cuz we're friends-" his pointer finger pressed to your lips. Your eyes met his again. They were warm and reassuring. He bent down to your level. His hands held to each armrest trapping you in.

"I like it. A lot. I'm thinking about our song. How it will fit the same energy ya know."  He hit the play button.

"I see."  Those lips.

"We should go out after this."

"We should?"

"Ya, it's gonna get cold soon. We take advantage of the nice weather at night."

"Well, clubs are heated."

"Yes. They are, but we don't have to go to clubs. We could do other things." Your heart was racing.

"What things?"

"We could go night swimming or to a rooftop restaurant."

"Are you asking me out?"

"Am I?"

He stood there bent over locking eyes with you. You thought back past the coffee shop, past the club, to the day you discovered bts. You thought they were all attractive, but dating them felt like such an insane idea that you wouldn't let yourself desire it. Should you let yourself desire it, now that it's sitting in front of you quite literally staring you in the face?

"Ya know I was thinking, about the other night, I don't regret saying what I said. I've got nothing to lose. You might, but I don't."

You let yourself desire it.

"You are."

"I'm what?"

"Asking me out." His face softened into a smile, eyes turning into little crescents. "Let's work on this song."