2025, winter
Namjoon has been to several galleries in New York, but this particular one is a place he's never been to. It overlooks Central Park, towering at the 30th floor like the other buildings in the city. But it's 3 floors and he thinks it's stunning. It's not overly grand, but it's also not as simple and natural like the others he's been to.
He may say it's not entirely his vibe, but there's a reason why he's here.
Some patrons recognize him and greet him. He bows in response, engaging in small talk when he needs to, but stepping away to get to the exhibition he flew here to see.
It's nothing like what he expected, although years later, he doesn't know what to expect anymore.
The first thing is, well, it's titled. There's a year and a description, too.
2023, swing in the summer home
The piece is beautiful, made in clay and metal. It's familiar, too. He's seen this on a lake house by the mountains, over 3 years ago.
2023, the piece that lost its meaning
It's a painting, but one placed atop a sculpted frame hanging on a wall in what seems like a living room. This scene feels familiar as well.
2024, lost youth
A group of children look up at a plane, with opened suitcases and toys on the floor. The nostalgia hits him.
The rest of the sculptures are new to him. There's one about a lady in red, one of a neighbor, one of a woman with an umbrella and clouds, aptly titled, what am i hiding from? Further down the room, the emotions become more pointed, straightforward, and a lot more focused.
2023, coward
2024, i truly was sorry
2025, is this what regret feels like?
2025, i hope you knew i lied
2025, maybe someday
Someone from the outside who knows nothing about the artist might think that the pieces are a little over the place, although one can tell from the titles that they tell a story. The sculptures are made from the same materials - clay and metal, all free standing and in similar sizes. Each caption holds a narration, and all Namjoon can read are words describing emotions, of states of being - innocence, anger, confusion, fear, loss, regret, loneliness, pain, hope, and few more.
There's not much about joy or intimacy, though, and the thought saddens him. He had hoped that by this time, you already knew how those felt.
"So, what do you think?"
Namjoon didn't think he'd ever hear that voice again. He'd cry if he could, especially as he turns to his side and finds you, dressed in a classy, aegean blue satin dress. Your smile is one he's missed so much, and he wishes he could frame this moment, just so he doesn't forget. He almost did, and he hated himself when he took so long to remember how you sounded like, how you looked like.
"Nothing like I imagined," Namjoon replies. "In a good way."
"I scrapped previous works and experimented with these ones. It took me years to complete," you explain. "I almost stopped at one point, wondering if anybody would ever get it but then I figured, it didn't matter. It's a good thing that lifestyle magazine reached out for a feature. I think that was Mr. Hong pulling some strings. At least I got to say that for years, I didn't know what I was doing, who I was, but now I do."
"That's how I knew about it, actually," Namjoon hums. "It was in the art gallery because he was giving it away for free. It said your exhibition was here, so I flew in."
"Oh," you say, surprised. "I thought you had a show or filming."
"Nah," Namjoon sighs. "I came here for you. Otherwise I wouldn't know where to find you, or how else to see you. You stopped... you stopped showing up. You just disappeared."
"I know. And I'm sorry."
It's all you can say, really. You didn't expect to see him here, but when you saw a familiar face enter through the doors, your heart stopped. You had a feeling Mr. Hong had told Namjoon about your exhibition - your first in 4 years. But nothing would have prepared you for this - seeing him again after you walked away from the one good thing you found in your life. You watched him from afar as he went through each of your pieces, perhaps savoring them, remembering them.
"Have you been well?" He asks, the concern still overpowering everything.
"I have."
"You seem to have lost someone," he says, nodding towards one of the pieces. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"She was my neighbor when I spent 8 months in Sweden," you share. "She took care of me but then she passed away due to an accident. It was hard for a while."
"I–" Namjoon reaches out his hand - for comfort, perhaps - but he brings it down. "I wish I knew."
"It's okay. And I'm okay. It's been a year, but I wouldn't have finished all this without her."
You'd forgotten how silence sounded like with Namjoon, and you want to remember what it was like. You remember a lot of things, actually, like his laughter, his voice, his smile, the feel of his lips on yours, and many others.
"How long are you here for?" You finally ask, as you both walk side-by-side past the rest of the artworks inside, with a bit of distance between you.
"I'm here for 3 more days."
"I stay at the hotel next to the building," you say, being bold. "I leave here in 2 hours."
You fumble for your room key and discreetly hand it over to him. "3802, if you want to. I have more to say, and I– uh, shit. If you're seeing someone, forget what I said."
"I'm not," he answers. "I'll be there."
**
Namjoon watches the city from your full-wall window, wondering when you'd decide to finally speak beyond a greeting. It's been 10 minutes since he arrived at your suite with the key you gave him, and you haven't said anything since then.
"The buildings aren't the same here," you finally say. "I've been here for 3 months and the sounds of the cars are too loud, there's too much smoke, people don't smile... I don't have anyone here."
"Then why are you here?"
"I decided to finish some of my pieces in the city. I've been staying at one of my parents' apartments not far from here."
"And where were you before that?"
"Puerto Rico, Greece, Sweden," you answer.
"When I said to find ourselves, I didn't think you'd actually leave, and then not tell me about it," he laments. "I knew it was stupid to wish you'd stay close. You weren't in any of the places where I used to see you, where we used to go. I... I asked around but they said you haven't visited in so long."
"I couldn't stay," you try to explain. "I couldn't because it just meant waiting for you to come even if I was the one who walked away. And I knew I wouldn't be able to find myself in a place where I'd always be looking for you, and so I had to go. I'm so sorry, Joon. I–"
You drop the hand that reaches out to him, unsure if your touch would still be welcome. You clench your fist to stop yourself from doing it again, but he notices. He notices and takes your hand, uncurls it so he can hold it properly.
"How was it being away?"
"It was good. Hard. Terrifying," you share. "I experienced a lot of new, fun things. I learned a lot. Made a lot of mistakes, too. I met so many people. I–"
"Were you with anyone?" he asks, turning away briefly.
"No, I... I couldn't bring myself to," you answer nervously. "And you?"
"No one since you. There was a reason why I asked you to stay right there, so that I knew where to find you."
"You still found me, 3 years later, on the other side of the world."
"I had to know if anything's changed for you. I had to know if you made it, if you found what you were looking for. I had to know if you were happy. But you didn't create it. There was no piece for it."
"I found what I was looking for," you say, looking into his eyes, glancing at his fingers that are softly exploring yours. "I realized that I could only gain whatever permanence I was looking for if I learned to let them go. Because if they come back, they stay. I walked away from you then, and I had to lose myself to all the emotions that I was so scared to feel. And I felt a lot of them, Joon. I felt a lot of things. I was going to go back home after this. But you came to me first. You're the one always finding me. That hasn't changed."
"I suppose it hasn't," he cracks a smile. "Did I take too long?"
"You were right on time," you say. "I would've come for you in a few days though. But I'm glad you're here so that I can tell you that I can finally have this. I can finally give you everything without being scared, without it breaking me, without it ruining the ones I love."
"Is that what you feel for me?"
"Yes. I guess I did then. I still do now."'
There's uncertainty in your voice, perhaps due to the fear of him no longer returning what you feel.
"I found myself, too," he says. "I figured out what I wanted to do for myself, what more I can give, what more I desired. And I guess you're right. That permanence can come from losing something and then having them back. And then having them stay. So many times then I regretted that I wasn't more honest. That I was denying what I felt for you because I was scared of losing what little of a normal life I was afforded. I wished I told you much earlier, but I guess things happen when they do, right?"
"Right, but you can also say them again now."
"That I want you close, holding my hand, tracing my skin, kissing me? That I want all that everyday?" He smiles, as he pulls you towards him and places your hand on his chest. "That I want everything from you? That I haven't stopped thinking of you, wishing for you?"
"Yes," you say, sighing into the kiss you've missed too much.
There's that tenderness you expected, but the desire is unlike the times before. There's more confidence now, more security in the way his mouth moves against yours. It's as if he knows that he'll always have this. That this time, he's loving you in more than words, and that you've come back, and that you'll stay.
Namjoon presses you against the wall, lets his lips trace down your neck and your chest. He undresses you, remarks that he's starting to believe in a higher being who created a body like yours, and then proceeds to mouth more praises down your thighs and in between them.
He takes you slowly, amorously. He watches your face contort in pure pleasure, and you mention needing to add a piece for this, too. The way he goes in and out of you is out of this world, and you never want it to end.
You'd think it's the intimacy you didn't know how to feel. But it's more than that. In fact, you find that in being with Namjoon, the intimacy is in everything - the way he holds your hand, the way he wraps his arm around you, the way he lets you bite his arm and tickle him just for fun. It's in the way he kisses your forehead before he kisses your lips.
It's in your bike rides together and watching the river whenever you catch a glimpse of it. It's in your moments of calm - reading books, writing songs, sketching.
It's in the deep, tender way that he says he loves you.
You don't have a piece for this yet. Perhaps it's another series altogether. Perhaps it'll require an installation.
Or maybe, this is the one emotion you don't need to put into art, the one that you'll keep for yourself to hold onto because no clay and metal mixture, no tangible piece, could ever describe what this love and intimacy feels like.
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