Untitled | KNJ

03

"Shut up. Don't make me hope."

"You do that to yourself," she laughs. "Keep denying that you don't want to see him or want anything more with him and let's see how you do."

The truth is, you know. You know that you'd fall hard if you let yourself go like that, but it's human to know danger and then still want it, isn't it?

The vibration from your phone ringing surprises you.

"Hey," Namjoon's voice booms on the other end.

"Hey," you reply. "How was your trip?"

"Good. I just got home. We had to stop by the office for a bit. My place is a mess and we have something again in the afternoon," he huffs, sounding incredibly tired. "Can I come over tonight?"

You almost drop the flute of champagne you're holding. He's been to your house twice, but this is the first time he's specifically asked to come over, especially considering that he just arrived from a trip abroad.

"Of course," you hum. "Any dinner preferences?"

"Your cooking," he says simply. "But wait for me, okay? I'll let you know when I'm on the way."

"Okay," you say, before dropping the call, unable to hide the wide smile that forms on your face, to your assistant's amusement.

"Why don't you try to let go this time?" She advises. "Maybe you'll find the intimacy you've been longing for."

**

Namjoon overestimates your cooking abilities. Truly, all you know to do is prepare ramyun and fry anything. But, compared to him, he's said you're chef level. "The guys" don't even want him near the kitchen, he tells you all the time.

But instant noodles and pork belly seem enough for him, as he eats with his mouth closed and hums in satisfaction. You take the time to savor the way he looks. A few weeks without him has started to feel like months.

"It was overwhelming," he finally says.

He knew the moment he landed that he wanted to see you. There's comfort in your presence that he's begun to accept, and being with you allows him to be honest, to feel real, to feel human.

"It was great to be able to perform again, to hear the cheers and the sounds and everything. It was also terrifying," he continues. "I was nervous and excited, I was scared and elated. I felt so fulfilled and satisfied but I also felt like it wasn't enough."

"That's a lot of conflicting emotions," you hum.

"Are they? Conflicting, I mean."

"It depends, I guess. They seem up and down to me. Does it bother you?"

"That I felt all that, all at once?"

You nod in response.

"It used to," he admits. "At the start of all this, I thought, I can't be scared. Six other guys and an entire company are looking to me to succeed. I have to be strong and confident. And then, an industry is waiting for me to fail. And then, my own country is letting me - us - represent an entire generation, it's asking me to carry on this cultural wave. It never ends. And I used to think I couldn't be scared, that not wanting all this anymore means I'm ungrateful."

"But you aren't," you try to assure him. You can't imagine the burden he feels, leading a group that feels all kinds of pressure. "I've heard you talk about your art and your poetry and your brothers and your fans. You're easily the most passionate, hardworking, and appreciative person I know. I don't think you'll ever run out of things to give."