G E N I U S | k.nj

Thirty | 서른

Three solid knocks to the door rang through your head as you stayed huddled on your bed, they sounded rather distant, and could have possibly been fabricated by your incredibly tremulous mind. The only place solace was apparently found was in some book you'd picked off the shelf - oddly not from a lecture or for homework, but something you'd bought for yourself.

The day Namjoon had suggested you help him in his house, you'd bought this stupid thing just to nose yourself into something beside someone else's business. Clearly that hadn't worked, with the way things were left and all, so you were just sad tossing your eyes over the same damn sentence over and over again.

Knock knock knock.

There it was, again, this time louder and a little more real. So you dipped your head from above the pages and looked across to your closed bedroom door. It certainly wasn't that close, the noise echoed from beyond one room, perhaps several.

Your feet met the floor reluctantly, scaling across the place with book still in hand until you were met with the front door. Behind the glass you could make out a shadowy figure, bobbing side to side in some indistinguishable emotion that quite annoyed you. Repetitive motions aside, you remained stationary for quite some time, before you saw the body before you ducking towards the opaque glass and throwing their hands up either side to shield from the outside light.

And so a pair of eyes became more than visible, growing wide as he realised you were right there and he was simply being ignored, in his thoughts at least. Even more hesitation then amounted - you were spotted stalling so the only solution appeared to be to stall some more.

"Y/N? Can we talk, please?"

Namjoon wasn't normally the one to initiate the conversation, push for something that obviously wasn't desired or really doing anything outside of his comfort zone. You watched as he pulled back, laying in wait and expecting you to open the door. This man wasn't second guessing in this instance, he knew you were going to open the stupid door no matter how much you didn't want to.

Of course, you then peaked from behind the only form of protection you had, and allowed your eyes to trail up to his, book dropping to the floor for lack of words. Part of you wanted to laugh, but you'd already done enough to burn down any confidence he had for himself - or so you thought.

Messy hair adorned his head (quite obviously lazily styled) and his clothes had gone further than the standard sweater and loose fitted jeans; Namjoon's legs were enveloped in a skinny jean, ripped at the knee, and a white t-shirt tucked into them, not to forget the jacket slung over him, likely donated by one of his friends. Amidst processing all of this, he'd taken his chance to push past and shut the door himself, picking up the discarded book and skimming the page you'd spent hours on.

"The Invisible Man? You read this?" He questioned, softened eyes tracing up to yours in some inquisitively piqued interest. "I do," you responded, just as quietly as you shuffled about on your toes, not daring to move an inch for fear of making a mistake.

He proceeded to walk past you, head returning to the book as he walked straight into the living room, mouth ever so slightly agape as he reread a phrase over and over and over. "Any reason you left it on this page?" He continued, not bothering to address you as he sat himself down.

"Namjoon, I dropped it, I probably lost the-"
"I know, I went to where you folded the corner," he sighed out, finally lifting his gaze with features as blank as ever. Times like these expressions could tell a thousand stories that Namjoon could not, "'Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat'... Any reason this page is folded?"