The Bare Truth // Yoonmin AU

제 7 장 -- YG

"Are you ready to go?" Asks Namjoon, shouting from the living room.

"YEAH JUST A MINUTE!" I call back rushingly, quickly tugging a black turtleneck over my head whilst walking towards the bathroom, nearly falling over my suitcase in the process. Quickly checking myself over in the mirror, I run my fingers through my hair and fix it after it was attacked by the turtleneck. Grabbing my toothbrush and rather violently brushing my teeth, I check the time on my phone and realise we are almost late. Quickly rinsing out my mouth, I back away a bit to look myself over.

Something's missing. Taking a second to figure it out, I start rummaging in my small jewellery box, soon stumbling upon the article that I was searching for. It was a rather simple necklace, almost tribal-like with blue beads on it. Slipping it on around my neck, I rush out of the bathroom and towards my awaiting companion.

"Sorry I took so long. You ready?" I ask, not really paying attention to Joon as I unplug my phone from the wall and check whether I have sufficient battery. Slightly relieved it managed to charge in the small amount of time it had, I slip it into my back pocket before doing the same with my earphones, wallet and keys. Patting myself over to check whether I have everything, I signal Joon to leave first, before following him and locking my house door.

"Your car or mine?" Joons car flashes, signalling it being unlocked. "Yours then I guess." I mutter under my breath.

Slipping into the passenger seat of Namjoons rather expensive car, I fluidly clip my seatbelt into place before pulling down the sun blocker and opening the small mirror attached to it. Attempting to adjust my hair, I eventually abandon the mirror in favour of my phone's camera, taking a few selfies in the process.

"Stop fidgeting." Namjoons abrupt voice pierced the silence, along with my good mood. Something was wrong.

Pressing the off button on my phone before slipping it back in my back pocket, I attempt to turn my body to face my distressed friend. However this proved to be more difficult than expected as the seatbelt restrained my movement. I looked at Joon for a second, analysing the situation.

His usually bright and open demeanour was twisted and abused by a frown that marked his delicate face. He was glaring at the road ahead as if it was to blame for all his issues. His hands clutched the steering wheel in a vice-like grip, turning his slightly tanned skin an unnaturally ghost-white colour on his knuckles. His arms seemed stiff as if almost afraid of crashing and his hair was ruffled, signifying him repeatedly running his hands through it.

"What are you staring at? Do I have something on my face?" Namjoon asks almost confused, noticing my staring.

"What's wrong?"

My question seems to have taken him aback, almost as if he was surprised he was in a bad mood. His hands released the steering wheel for a second before grabbing it again, yet not as strongly allowing his hands return to their former golden colour. His arms relaxed a little after releasing the wheel and didn't stiffen as much when his hands found the steering wheel.
"What?"
"You were frowning. Somethings wrong." I conclude before flashing my eyes to the road then back at him. "So, what's wrong?"

He seemed to tense, realising his emotions were clearly on show, which he didn't usually allow. As a matter of fact, I was even more emotionless most of the time. Not toward him though. I was always honest with him.

"Nothings wrong." He almost pushed the words out of his mouth, as if hated the thought of it all.

"Come on don't lie to me. Just tell me.
"Nothing. Is. Wrong." He repeated firmly through his gritted teeth. Something was very clearly wrong, and he was portraying it more and more with every word.

"Seriously just tell me!" I exclaimed, getting annoyed at his behaviour. I felt little upset that he didn't trust me enough to tell me what was wrong.

"I TOLD YOU NOTHING IS WRONG! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" Namjoon all but screamed, this time taking me aback.

I abruptly turn back to face the road, pulling out my phone and earphones before placing it in one of my ears, the one that Namjoon could see. I slumped in my seat slightly, and went on a random app on my phone just to look like I was doing something. No music flowed through my earphone, but I wasn't in the mood. I refused to look at Joon, completely ignoring his existence.

I heard a sigh escape from Joons lips and the sound of him fidgeting in his seat, yet refused to look over. Switching off my phone, I turn my back to my friend, facing the window, watching the big city that is Seoul pass by.

"It's one of my friends. You don't know him. He's got a rather difficult job and it's starting to affect him really badly. I'm worried somethings going to happen if he continues on like this."

Thinking over this information for a few seconds, I turn back round and look at Namjoon. Guilt was clearly written across his features, and I started to feel sorry for him. Thinking for a second, I reply: "what job does he have? Labour work?"

Joons eyes drop towards his lap for a second before returning to the road.

"Worse. He's a model."

My eyes widen for a second, realisation slapping me in the face. A sense of empathy awoke in me towards this guy, even though I didn't know him.

"Why doesn't he quit?" I ask, knowing it's a useless suggestion.

"Because its all he ever wanted to be." He replies quietly, almost feeling guilty for it, which I didn't understand.

I didn't know what to do. It was a sudden topic, and I couldn't immediately find a solution. I felt useless. I turn back to face the road, an uncomfortable silence falling over us.

A few minutes pass before Namjoons voice breaks the silence.

"We're here."

I look around to find out that we are, in fact, at our destination. Waiting a few moments to allow Namjoon to park, I undo my seatbelt and open my door. Sticking my foot out ready to launch myself out of the car, I get stopped by a rather large hand.

"Yoongi, I'm sorry for shouting."

I turn to face Joon, regret evident on his face. My gut twisted, a sense of guilt building up in me.

"It's my fault. I'm sorry." I look in his eyes, relief flashing in them momentarily before a feeling of platonic affection becomes prominent.

"No hard feeling?"

"No hard feelings."

After shaking hands, both of us step out of the car in sync, before heading for the door of the restaurant, all negative feelings left behind.