2650 words //
5. He loves art.
Namjoon's scrolling through his phone, partially listening to Yoongi's and Hoseok's very civilised conversation on PUBG but mostly not, when a new notification pops up, letting him know that the Faculty of Fine Art's official Instagram page has a new post up.
"Who's Vante?"
Both Yoongi and Hoseok shut up at once, and turn towards him. "Vante?" Yoongi repeats. Namjoon nods.
"Oh, I don't know," he says, sucking in his cheek. "Sounds familiar. Why are you asking?"
"They just posted a photograph taken by him," Namjoon tells him, handing over his phone.
Yoongi hums in response and Hoseok leans over to look at the photo, then says, "It's pretty. Seoul is pretty."
Namjoon chooses not to comment on that; they don't know Seoul like he does. "I want to edit it and make it the cover photo for my song."
"Seoul?" Hoseok wonders, looking up. "How's it going?"
Namjoon shrugs. It's... going. "So, do you know Vante? The page didn't tag anyone or—"
"Oh. I know him," Hoseok says, a heart-shaped grin unfolding on his face.
"Hobi," Yoongi murmurs a warning, but Hoseok doesn't slow down.
"Well, actually, I unfortunately don't know his real name, but I can totally help you find him."
Hoseok is a notoriously bad liar when it comes to things he's enthusiastic about, but Namjoon doesn't think twice about that; Hoseok's excessive use of adverbs is suspicious but there's one mission on Namjoon's mind: Find Vante.
"Yeah?"
"He's close friends with Jiminie," Hoseok says, and pulls out his phone. "I'll text him."
Yoongi coughs, then flushes slightly when Namjoon turns to him. He doesn't get to dwell on it much, though, because Hoseok's phone pings suddenly.
"So?"
Hoseok hums and texts back, then excuses himself for a quick phone-call. A couple of minutes pass until Yoongi groans, and says he's "exhausted as fuck" when Namjoon asks him what's wrong.
"You always are, hyung," Namjoon tells him with a huff. "You need a break."
Yoongi doesn't get to respond before Hoseok returns to their table with a mischievous grin. "I need to go, but Joon! He's with Jimin right now in the art building, the sixth hall. Hall 6? I told him you're coming."
And then he's gone.
Namjoon blinks. "He didn't tell me the dude's name."
Yoongi huffs. "He didn't pay for his drink."
Namjoon ends up paying for both his and Hoseok's before he goes, but it's purely out of concern for Yoongi's wellbeing. Hoseok owes him.
—
Namjoon walks down the main hallway, nodding his head lightly to a beat in the distance he can barely make out — and it's familiar, so familiar but he can't quite put his finger on it and—
Oh.
He heads towards the first hall to his right — labelled Hall 2, to see if the music is coming from it. It's not. He checks out every open door on his way, and he knows he's getting closer as the music gets louder, but eventually he reaches Hall 6, the place where he's meant to meet up with Vante and Jimin, and he realises that the beat is skin-crawlingly familiar because it's his.
It's his beat. It's his song.
Vante is listening to his music right now. Did Jimin decide to introduce him to Namjoon's music?
Namjoon swallows a lump in his throat and enters the hall. It's a long hall full of rows of canvas-stands and tables, and it looks dark and empty from outside the door and to anyone passing through the hallway since all the lights are out except for the low-hanging lights at the very end of the hall. If it wasn't for the music playing at such a high volume, Namjoon would have thought Hall 6 was empty — and therefore, the entire art building.
And it should be empty, right now, because it's around nine at night. But Vante is an artist.
Which, logically, isn't an explanation. Artists are human. The truth is: Vante is Vante, and he's just like that. It's simple, and Namjoon feels like a hypocrite for thinking of that because he is the one who takes advantage of the night to work in empty recording studios — studios he's not supposed to have access to, where he creates music he's not meant to create — and he definitely doesn't think of himself as an artist, at least not in the same sense Vante is an artist.
He's a doctor. A future doctor.
Vante is an artist. He's even wearing a fucking beret, and as Namjoon gets close enough to see, he's painting. He silently watches, completely mesmerised. He vaguely wonders what the texture of the painting would feel like under his fingertips as it dries, or the curve of the artist's back, or—
The song ends and Vante turns to the table by his side, taps repeatedly on his phone, and then the same song starts playing again.
Namjoon's song.
Jimin is nowhere in sight. Jimin doesn't know this song — it's I Believe. It's a song he made back in high school, and he had it up on his soundcloud page until a glitch took it down last year. Most people don't know this song, but somehow Vante does, and he's listening to it on repeat (or, rather, manually repeating it) while he paints something so beautiful — he doesn't know a lot about art, but everyone knows Van Gogh's Starry Night and Vante's work resembles it? The dark blues, the dirty yellows, but there are lighter shades of blue and soft yellows, too. They're new, and it's beautiful and—
Namjoon needs to say something. He needs to say something, like,
"That's my song."
"Hell yeah," Vante — Taehyung???? — agrees. "It's mine, too."
"Taehyung?!" Namjoon gasps and, okay. He doesn't know how to feel. Mission Find Vante is a mistake.
"Namjoon?" Taehyung turns on his heels, and it's by sheer force of will and pure hostility that Namjoon doesn't lose track of his thoughts when his eyes take in the sight in front of him. "I thought you were Zara, oh my god, I'm so sorry—"
"Who's Zara?" Namjoon asks, and he's definitely not thinking about Taehyung's paint-stained undershirt. "Why are you listening to my song?"
He looks different. He wears baggy clothes all the time and the last time Namjoon got to see him like this — in a tight, sleeveless undershirt — was back in high school. Back when he was all skin and bones, dark knees always stained with grass and skinny arms littered with bruises and — he's different, now. His wrists still look delicate — Namjoon wants to hold them just to check — and he's still Taehyung, but he looks different. It shouldn't come off as surprising to Namjoon that he looks different; Namjoon himself looks different now, too, but it's just... it's weird.
What happened to his noodle arms? Does he work out? Namjoon loathes the possibility that Taehyung has the time to work out and he doesn't.
"Zara is the janitor," Taehyung says, quickly wiping his hand on a cloth before pausing the song. His shoulders are broad. "Um. This is so weird. What are you doing here?"
Namjoon bites his lip. "Are you Vante?"
Taehyung scrunches his nose, and only then Namjoon notices a smear of yellow on it. Cute. "Who's asking?"
Namjoon sighs. "And, let me guess. Jimin was with you but he got a phone call and had to leave immediately."
"A dick appointment," Taehyung snorts.
"Gross."
"Ah, right. You did not need to know that," Taehyung presses his lips into a thin line. "Sorry. Um, you were saying?"
He doesn't sound sorry, but Namjoon lets it slide with an eye-roll. "I came across one of your photos earlier and wanted to meet up with the artist — I didn't know it was you. Hobi sent me here. He's Jimin's—"
"Dick appointment."
"Right."
"They're soulmates," Taehyung says. "You know that, right?"
Namjoon nods. He doubts anyone in the entire world doesn't know. Both Jimin and Hoseok make a point out of telling everyone they know about how they're soulmates, and the story of how they met.
("I wasn't sure we were soulmates but I knew I was in love at first sight," Hoseok usually says. "So, there's that."
"I did," Jimin grins. "The way we met is literally a cliché. If you guess I'll buy you a drink."
"You bumped into each other and one of you dropped his books," is the most common guess.
"Hm. Close. We bumped into each other at a club and he made me spill my drink," Jimin says, smiling fondly.
"And he made me get him another one because his underage ass couldn't risk getting kicked out," Hoseok adds with a snort.
"Aw—"
"He refused," Jimin says.
"But I didn't want to let him go, you know? So I asked him out for milkshakes instead."
"I said yes. I'm lactose intolerant."
That's how it goes. Every single time. Like a script. And Namjoon's forced to witness this every time someone new comes around, so, yes, he knows they are soulmates.)
"Why'd you say you don't believe in soulmates, then?" Taehyung asks, tugging at his collar. "Debate class."
Namjoon swallows. "I don't know."
"You were pretty stubborn."
"It's complicated," Namjoon says, because it is. He hesitates before adding. "But I'd love to discuss it more with you next class."
"You think I'd come?" Taehyung asks. Namjoon shrugs. "You want me to come."
Namjoon shrugs again, then says, "It's more... challenging with you around. Don't mistake this for me wanting anything to do with you, though."
"Ouch," Taehyung deadpans. "Whatever. Why'd you want to meet me?"
Namjoon shrugs and turns away. "Again, I didn't know it was you, so don't worry about it."
Taehyung calls out his name once, but Namjoon ignores him. By the time he reaches the end of the hall, the song starts playing again. His song. He'll just ask Jimin about it later. He knows he won't forget to, because he knows he'll be thinking about this stupid beret and splash of bright yellow and the goddamn pain-stained undershirt all night — and Seoul. Seoul.
With a defeated sigh, Namjoon turns towards the exit of the hall but — the door is closed. He swears he has left it open earlier. He pushes it then pulls, but it's locked. It's locked from the outside and —
He's trapped. With Kim Fucking Taehyung. History repeats itself.
"Hey!" He yells at the door, and bangs at it repeatedly. Seriously?
The music stops.
"What?" Taehyung yells back from across the room.
Namjoon rolls his eyes and walks back towards him. "The door's locked. We're trapped here."
Taehyung doesn't freak out in response like Namjoon did. He simply grabs his phone and shoots a quick text to the janitor, because being on first-name basis isn't enough, they have to be texting buddies too.
"The door was closed and the music was off so she thought I was gone," Taehyung says, his eyes on the phone as he types at the speed of lightning. "She's on her way."
Namjoon tries to be angry at that, but he realises he's pissed off because Taehyung has been here for a couple of weeks and he has won literally everyone over — students, faculty members, and staff. Mr. Fucking Popular. It's a miracle he finds the time to sit alone in an empty classroom to paint, and take photographs worthy of being posted on Instagram, and listen to Namjoon's I Believe on repeat — manual repeat, because he's stupid like that, and—
"Why are you listening to my song?" He asks.
Taehyung looks up at him for a long moment before sighing and putting his phone back on the table he's leaning against. "I like it."
"On repeat."
"Its main colours are the ones I'm using in my painting," Taehyung says, then elaborates when Namjoon's expression grows even more confused. "I have synesthesia. I see colours when I hear sounds."
Namjoon opens his mouth, then closes it when nothing comes out. He knows that. Taehyung mentioned it in front of an entire classroom once because he overshares like that, and everyone thought it was so fucking cool and they kept asking him questions. Namjoon desperately wanted to know the colour of his voice but he never got to ask because every time he opened his mouth, he'd end up saying shit that, normally, he would've punched anyone else for saying.
His words were red with anger and he sometimes felt green with envy but he never knew the colour of his voice.
"You wanna deny that, too?" Taehyung snorts. "It doesn't make sense and it's unfair that not everyone—"
"Shut up," Namjoon snaps. Taehyung raises his hands in mocking defence. And then he takes the chance he never thought he'd have again, and asks: "What colour is my voice?"
Taehyung doesn't hesitate. "Blue-grey. The exact shade changes — it always does with voices — but, yeah. Blue-grey."
Namjoon nods at him then motions to the painting.
"What?"
"I just... you're painting my song?"
"Not exactly," Taehyung says. "It's more like... your song is my palette."
Namjoon nods. What's he supposed to say? That he thinks this is cool? That he feels honoured, especially since the result — the painting standing beside Taehyung, is so beautiful?
Yeah, no.
"So," Taehyung says, cutting the silence. "Why did you want to meet me?"
"I didn't know—"
"Why did you want to meet Vante?" Taehyung asks again. "I told you about your song. It's your turn to tell me about my photograph."
"I like it."
"And meeting Vante?"
What does he have to lose?
"I wanted to ask if I could use it as a cover picture for my song. It's... a song about Seoul. I thought it would be fitting."
"Yes," Taehyung says.
"Yes?"
"Yes. You can use it."
He didn't see that one coming.
He doesn't see Zara coming either, but here she is. "You're free to go, guys."
He thanks her and offers her a smile, but he doesn't linger around for her conversation with Taehyung. He leaves without another word.
—
"So, you're saying you got locked up with your mortal enemy," Soha says, leaning in, "and—"
"Don't finish that sentence," Namjoon interrupts, his eyes on the test tube he's holding carefully with the clamps. "Please, don't. But, yeah, that's the summary."
Jimin nods at Soha knowingly before turning back to Namjoon. "You know, there are many stories out there about the universe intervening when it comes to soulmates."
"Are you implying what I think you're implying?" Namjoon asks dryly, then frowns. The liquid's colour is supposed to be a dark blue, by now.
"It's just interesting," Soha tries. "You swore the door was open, but why would that person lie?"
"It slammed on its own?" Namjoon suggests. "The wind?"
"Maybe the universe was trying to lock you up together so you can, I don't know? See reason?"
"Make up and kiss," Jimin adds.
"Yeah?" Namjoon retorts. "Then why did the janitor get there before we could do that?"
"You were planning on doing that?"
Namjoon huffs. "Fuck, no. I'm just asking."
"I don't know," Jimin shrugs. "Zara's not a janitor, by the way. Taehyung is just annoying."
"Tell me about it."
Jimin glares at Namjoon and Soha lets out a snort. "That's exactly why the universe let you off. She's bored."
"Oh, and hyung," Jimin chuckles. "You've been heating tap-water, by the way."
"This is your fault," Namjoon groans, throwing out the water. "I can't wait until they fix up our labs and I don't have to go through the tremendous pain of sharing classes with you."
"You love us," Soha says and grabs the tube from Namjoon, who rolls his eyes and stays silent because, well, he does.
"Joke about whatshisface being my soulmate again and that will change real quick."
—
longer chapter n we're technically halfway thru so yayyy :3