A/N: As always, many thanks to everyone who reads this story! I appreciate every one of you <3
***
I woke up to a long text from Namjoon. It was a funny story about him going home last night to find a few of the boys fighting in the kitchen because one of them had cooked a steak in the microwave, and it was absolutely the best thing I could have started my day with.
What was less of a good start was when, after sending off a reply text to Namjoon, I walked out of my room and found Jisuk sitting on the floor in the hallway, elbows on her knees and hands pressed against her face as she cried.
"Jisuk?"I asked, getting down on the floor with her and putting my hand on her arm.
She rubbed her finers hard against her eyelids and cheeks, trying to brush away the tears. "Sorry," she croaked.
I slid my arm around her shoulder to hug her. "No, don't say sorry. What's wrong?"
She stood up. I followed her into the kitchen where she grabbed a glass, only half-filling it with water before gulping some down.
"Sorry, it helps," she whispered, mouth twisting like she was trying not to start crying again. "You know, with the tightness in the throat?"
"Yeah, I know." I reached over to hold her hand. "What's wrong, Jisuk?"
After a purse of her lips, she said, "My parents called me. They... my dad, he wants me to move back home, commute to college. Because of what happened."
I nodded silently. I'd had the same conversation with my own parents.
"I don't want to have a commute like that, so we were arguing a little bit and he asked, 'Do you even feel safe in your apartment?' And I said yes." Jisuk pressed a hand to her mouth. "But after I hung up, I realized... I was lying."
As she started sobbing again, I grabbed her into a tight hug. I pressed my chin against her shoulder. What could I say? There was nothing I could say, no promise I could make, that would make her feel safe here. Every day we lived like soap bubbles, floating along trusting that the other soap bubbles wouldn't grow sharp corners and poke us, but it was so easy. So easy to completely destroy us.
So I said nothing, just hugged tighter and hoped that the touch would be some comfort to her, that the pressure would somehow communicate the empathy and support I had no words for.
*
"Chunhwa? Jeong Chunhwa?"
I steeled myself before turning around. After only three days of being back in classes, I'd already been accosted with far too many "I saw your name/picture/story in the newspaper – was that you? Oh my god, how did that even happen?" and et cetera. Anonymity, that luxury I'd been newly appreciative of after thinking about Namjoon's situation, had taken a small step away from me.
And with Jisuk's tears this morning, I was feeling especially sensitive about these question-attacks.
"Yes?" I asked as I turned. A tiny sigh of relief slipped out when I found who'd spoken: one of my coworkers from the university newspaper. Thank goodness – it was way too early in the morning to deal with a bunch of questions. "Oh, hi!"
"I thought that was you! Why haven't I seen you in the newspaper offices yet?"
I frowned. "Oh, I asked for a few days off to get into the swing of things. I'm heading in for my first shift now, actually."
"Taking a few days off? Doesn't sound like you."
I shrugged, wondering why he was making such a big deal out of it. "Well, I've had a lot to deal with."
"So was that story in the news true then?"
Great, there it was. "Yes, that was true."
"So like, what actually happened? There was a lot of stuff in the article but... what actually happened?"
What was his problem? "Well, this man had apparently been stalking me for a long time, and... killed my boyfriend a few months ago, and decided to come after me."
"Yeah, but like what happened?"
Invisible walls started to constrict around me. "He was waiting for me and tried to kidnap me I guess, almost killed my roommate, almost shot my friend." Hoping that would be enough to end this encounter that was rapidly becoming the second worst part of my day, I turned to hurry away.
"But he didn't succeed, right? So basically nothing happened?"
That stopped me dead in my tracks for a moment. Intense rejection boiled in my stomach. "It wasn't..."
But he hadn't heard me, because he walked over to look me in the eyes. "Right? Nothing really happened?"
Nothing happened. Jisuk's body shaking in my arms as she sobbed because she was terrified, that was nothing?
It was all I could do to look at him. Something in my face must have scared him because he took a step back, out of my personal space.
"Sorry, jeez," he said. "Just asking."
My jaw tensed. "Well please don't." I walked off, chest heaving with breaths that were coming too soon. When I reached the student center building, I practically ran to the women's bathroom instead of the newspaper office.
Shutting myself in a stall, I leaned my head against the door. It wasn't nothing, how could it be nothing when I'd lived in fear for months and unless something changed, it looked like Jisuk and I would have an undertone of fear in every moment for the rest of our lives? How could he say that with a straight face? How could he just dismiss everything I'd gone through with a few words?
And under it all, all the anger, was the worry that maybe he was right. So what, I'd been threatened at gunpoint and nearly kidnapped? So what, our apartment had been broken into? So what, Jisuk had been drugged? At least we hadn't been raped, right? At least we hadn't been killed, right?
But oh God, I did not want to live in a world where those were the questions I was supposed to be asking.
I was seven minutes late by the time I got myself together enough to head into the newspaper office. As I walked through the small rows of desks, almost everyone greeted me with small cautious smiles. When I got to my desk, I was very glad to sit and put my head down, reading through emails and getting back into the work.
I was two hours into my shift by the time I noticed that no one had removed the picture of Hajun I'd taped to the corner of my desk forever ago. I stared at it, lost in memories of him always coming over to ask my advice about his articles, ask how to spell something even though he obviously knew it, ask at least three times before noon where we should go for lunch, all with his signature smile that warmed me from scalp to toes. For a moment my fingers ghosted over the edges, considering ripping it off, but I left it. To try to bury his memory would be disrespectful; he belonged here much more than he did in some cemetery.
I was fifteen minutes from leaving when my boss came up to me. He dove straight in with, "Chunhwa, I'm so sorry to hear about your incident!"
I cringed lower into my seat. If he would talk a little more quietly then maybe the whole office wouldn't be staring at me. "Thank you?" I said.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"Fine," I said, fidgeting with my notebook.
He crossed his arms, smiling. "It's good to have you back."
"Thank you, it's good to be back," I said, moving on to fidget with the computer mouse.
"So, I was thinking it would be wonderful if you could write a piece about what happened."
My head snapped up. "What?"
"Just think, we'd have the only first-person account of the crime," he said, smiling wider. "Of course, the other newspapers supplemented their coverage with quotes, but a full first-person narrative? That would be exclusive."
I nodded my head in circles. "Exclusive," I muttered, half in agreement and half in disbelief.
"Great, shall we run it in this weekend's issue?" he asked.
"I..." I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't."
He looked down at me. "What?"
My hands settled on my knees, squeezing them. "I can't write about it. Not so soon. I just... I can't. I won't."
With a raised eyebrow, he said, "Okay, we'll talk about this next week then. I'll let you get back to work."
He trotted off through the desks. Next week? He obviously didn't get it.
That seemed to be a common theme of the day.
After the end of my shift and my final class, I headed home with my coat pulled tighter around me than the September air warranted. A comfort thing, I figured. I couldn't wait to get home and talk to Jisuk, ask if I'd said the right thing to my boss, seek her validation of my thoughts about the dumbass "nothing" comment. It seemed like we'd both had pretty shitty days, so we could commiserate and maybe even eat some ice cream.
But when I unlocked the door and came into the apartment, kicking my shoes, off, Jisuk hurried over to intercept me. Behind her, a stocky silhouette sat on the couch. "Chunhwa! Come here, come meet my boyfriend," Jisuk said, and the sudden tension through my body sailed away.
I walked over and was introduced to that guy she'd met in calculus class – she told me his name, but I'd referred to him so long as "that calculus guy" that I promptly fell back on the nickname. Mentally, at least.
Jisuk curled back into his side, fingers gently clutching his shirt. They started their movie back up after making sure I was fine with it, and I was left to walk down the hall to my room with a stupid little stab of jealousy in my chest. I wanted someone to sit on ratty couches and watch terrible movies with, someone to cuddle when the world was too big, someone to give me back my smile when I lost it.
I had that. And then he was taken away.
Before I could go there for the second time today, I forcibly shoved my backpack into my mattress and pulled out my phone. Talking to Jisuk was obviously out – even if her boyfriend were to leave soon, her day had vastly improved and I was not going to drag her back down with me.
I hesitated with my finger over Namjoon's number. Things had been so close to normal at ice-skating yesterday. It had been so nice. I didn't want to always be complaining to him – didn't want to be a nuisance, didn't want to be seen as weak.
But I really wanted to tell him everything and listen as he calmly dissected my thought-jumble. After a moment, I pressed call.
He didn't pick up, so I hung up. Who else could I call? Areum wouldn't understand, neither would my brother, and my parents definitely wouldn't be helpful.
After gathering my thoughts, I called Namjoon again and left a message. "Hi Namjoon, this is Chunhwa. I was just... wanting to talk to you about some stuff that happened, I guess. I'm going skating," I paused, unsure where that had come from. "I'm going skating and I was wondering if you could come. I know we just went yesterday, sorry. If you can't that's totally fine, I know you're incredibly busy. But yeah, I'm going skating around 7 pm and if you can't come, please call me when you're free because I'd like to talk to you if it's not a bother. Thank you, bye!"
Hopefully the message hadn't been cut off. It was way too long, but I just felt the need to explain myself.
Like this is even explicable, I laughed to myself as I got dressed for skating, pulling my leggings and jeans over a few bruises. Even the double-layering wouldn't help much, judging by the carnage from yesterday's expedition.
After grabbing a quick half-plate of leftovers and telling Jisuk where I'd be, I headed out. I hadn't heard back from Namjoon yet so I went straight onto the ice once I'd gotten some rental skates.
The chill realness of the ice underfoot was almost grounding, in a way. The focus it took to stay balanced was good too. By the time I' gone around the rink a few times, hand on the wall, I wasn't regretting the decision to come anymore.
I went around and around the ice, listening to the odd selection of music they had pumping through the rink, feeling my breathing, and generally being very present in my body. No worries, no anger, just the blood pumping through me and the electricity telling my muscles what to do.
After a break during which I got off the ice fully intending to leave and realized I didn't actually want to, just needed a breather, I even tried skating around with my hands off the wall. It went a little worse than yesterday without Namjoon to help, but it was okay. The "risk" got my heart pounding in a good way.
"Hi!" someone behind me said, and if my ears weren't lying to me...
"Namjoon?" I asked, pausing and putting my hand on the wall. Once I was stable I looked over my shoulder. Yes indeed, tall as life.
"Sorry I was so late," he said as he skated up to tower next to me.
"No worries! I was thinking you weren't going to show up, so I'm just glad you came at all."
"Great," he said with a grin.
With a light shove off the wall I started moving again. "I'm actually really surprised you could come, given that you were free yesterday."
"Yeah, we finished our schedules and I was going to go to the studio to work on stuff, but I'll do that after this instead."
"And hopefully not be up too late?" I asked.
He shrugged. "We'll see."
"Oh come on, Namjoon – sleep is the best!"
"Yes, sleep is the best and I'll get at least some," he said with a laugh. "Thanks for the concern, but I'm fully aware of the value of sleep."
"Good." I looked back to smile at him and promptly fell down. As I was struggling up I added, "I promise I was doing better before you got here."
"No, no, I can tell," said Namjoon. "You're not clinging to the wall like a sea lamprey today. That's an improvement right there."
I huffed, my feet finally planted beneath me. "A sea lamprey? How nice."
"Yes, haven't you always wanted to be an aquatic parasite that uses your tongue to rasp off your prey's skin then drinks its blood?" he asked, a laugh waiting in the scrunched-up corners of his eyes.
"Oh, of course. What a lovely compliment," I said.
The laugh moved from his face to his voice. "Anytime."
I smiled and offered my hand to him. After a second, he noticed and tucked it under his arm with a smile. "I'm glad you came," I said. "Thanks."
He didn't say anything, which was unusual. We skated around and around under the lights, finding a rhythm for our skates that matched the beat of the music and still accommodated each other. It was slow, but it was nice.
After a few minutes he asked, "So what was it you wanted to talk about?"
I tensed up, wanting to avoid a return to the issue and its accompanying emotions. "You know what, I'm not sure I even want to talk about it anymore. I'm feeling better, I like just focusing on this. The skating, the exercise, all that. I think I'm fine now."
"Chunhwa, if it was bothering you before it's going to bother you again."
I grunted. Why did he always have to say something wise and obviously right like that?
"How about you tell me about it quick and then we can talk about something else."
So I poured it all out, as quickly as I could. By the time I was done I was angry again, just like I'd feared. "It just... ugh! I cannot believe how stupid people are. How could he pretend to know what happened and what I have a right to feel when he wasn't even there? And then my boss, why can't he just let me do my job like normal without making this a bigger deal than it already is?" I realized my fingers were digging into Namjoon's forearm and relaxed them. "Sorry."
"Oh, it's fine." He looked off into the distance for a few steps. "I can't believe how stupid people are either, and I'd say you're totally right to reject the thought that just because the worst thing didn't happen, nothing happened. That's not how it works."
"Thank you!" I said. "You understand."
"I'm trying," he said. The music playing over the speakers switched to a song from Frozen (the overplayed-to-death one) and we both laughed.
"That came out of nowhere," I said.
"Yes indeed." After a moment he added, "And about your boss... What if you wrote about what happened–"
"I'm not going to, Namjoon, I can't. It's bad enough to have to live with that in the back of my head but to have to think about it actively and write about it? No, I'm not going to."
He coughed. "Okay. I was just going to say, if you were going to write about it, what if you wrote about the other stuff too? About what it's like to have this hanging over you, how difficult it was to get the police to believe you, how people have been treating you, things like that. The real-life after-effects, not just the central drama."
I studied the pitted ice in front of my feet. "I'll consider it. I really hate the attention though and I think that would make it worse."
"So say how much you hate the attention in the piece," he said gently. "I think a piece that vulnerable and personal would affect people a lot."
"Maybe. I don't think my boss would run it if I wrote it like that, though."
"It was just an idea. You know what's best for you right now, so follow your instincts."
Do I though? my brain asked. Do I know what's best for me right now?
"I do hate everyone seeming to know who I am," I said, talking to keep my worries from myself and from him. "It makes me wonder if this is how you feel, being all famous and notorious."
"Notorious?" he asked with a laugh. "That makes me sound like some kind of pirate."
"The Notorious Captain Namjoon," I said, and he threw back his head laughing. "The pirate who rapped his enemies to death."
He pressed a hand to his ribs. "Oh, I can't breathe! The Notorious Captain Namjoon!" He started laughing again.
"You did that one to yourself," I said. "I was all ready to–" I paused to time my words to the music – "let it go."
He literally fell into the wall, and I had to giggle too. "I never thought I'd see you lose control like this," I said through the laughter.
"And I never thought I'd see you make a pun to a Disney song," he said.
"I guess we're never too old to experience new things."
"Apparently not." He stood up and tugged his knit hat back to a secure spot, his mouth still twitching. "It's always good to learn new things about people."
The song switched to something from the 70s. I grinned at Namjoon. "Whoever's running the rink's speakers tonight has a music taste that is the definition of 'eclectic.'"
He nodded and offered his arm to me. We resumed our trek around the rink, making comments about the music and laughing as often as not.
By the time we stepped off the ice and headed to remove our skates, my cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. "Thanks again, Namjoon, I really had a good time tonight."
"Me too." He unlaced his left skate, then his right. "Have you ever thought about seeing an actual therapist?" he asked in a low voice.
I blinked. "I mean, yes, but they seem like they'd be super expensive and I don't know, I'd be... nervous, I guess." I leaned back against the wall. "Why?"
"I just... I hate to say it, but I won't always be able to come or listen or be there. My schedule is about to get incredibly busy – I'm not sure when the next time I'll be able to meet you will be. I'm sorry."
"No, don't be – I know how busy you are."
He smiled briefly. "And I know I'm not qualified to give you the help you need. An actual professional would be."
"Yeah, they would be." I nodded once.
"But?" Namjoon asked, looking over at me.
"But they're expensive. And I mean, I don't have it that bad. Some people have been through real traum–"
"Chunhwa," he said. "You've been through real things too. Don't try to dismiss them as 'not that bad.' You just got angry when someone else tried to do the same thing."
I looked at my socks. "True."
"Sorry to be a downer. I just wanted to suggest that. I think it would be helpful for you."
"Yeah."
He smiled at me. "Just some advice from your friendly neighborhood ice pirate." Brandishing his skates, he pointed at me with the toe of a blade. "Take care of yourself or I'll make you walk the plank."
I laughed. "Thanks, Notorious Captain Namjoon."
"I'm totally going to change my autograph to say that."
"I'd like to see you try to get that massive title written in the amount of time you have to sign things."
He stood up, skates dangling by their laces from one hand. "I bet if I practiced I could do it pretty quickly."
"Maybe. It would be a cute signature, I'm sure."
After goodbyes and the bus ride back to my apartment, I got home to see Jisuk and her boyfriend asleep on the couch with the TV on in the background. I smiled and let them be.
Once I was all washed up and ready for bed, I checked my phone. Namjoon had sent me a few pictures. One showed a messy signature that read Notorious Captain Namjoon with the caption "6.02 seconds is the best I can do – I think you're right, it's too long."
I smiled at the stupid, funny little gesture before checking out the other pictures. They were a couple business cards for therapists. A following text read, "I'm sure there are more, but these are a few that our company has worked with in the past that have been good."
Crawling under the covers, I saved the pictures, imagining myself sitting on a couch and talking about everything to a stranger. There was something terrifying but so appealing to the thought of letting it all out without worrying about it being a burden, because listening was their job. Not something kind they did for a friend even when they didn't have the time for it.
I turned off the light and pulled my covers up tight over my shoulder. As I closed my eyes and tried to slow my breathing, I realized that "Let it Go" was playing in my head, over and over and over, just the chorus because that was all I knew of the song.
"Noooooo," I groaned, flopping over onto my other side. I hated to shame other people for their taste in music but whoever had been running the rink that day clearly needed a mental adjustment.
Oh well. It had been worth it. To push my body physically, to see Namjoon, to laugh like that – it had been very much worth it.