Chapter Text
Landscapes are passing before Namjoon’s eyes at high speed, an ever-changing skyline of hills, large green fields, and trees. The KTX train going from Seoul to Gyeongju makes the scenery look almost unreal. Nature, always so static, is now unravelling before his eyes, foreground and background at different rates. Cheek pressed to the back of his hand, Namjoon is leaving behind the metallic skyscrapers of Seoul with a heart lighter than it has been for the past month.
For once, dread doesn’t overwhelm him. The emotion had been accompanying him for far too long now, ever since Haneul left him alone in his two-room apartment. This whole trip was planned in order to forget her, at the very least get over their failed relationship.
Hoseok, his best friend, had handed him two freshly printed tickets, one for a train ride from Seoul to Gyeongju, another for a month-long art workshop in Korea’s countryside. Namjoon didn’t know what to say at first. He had been absolutely overwhelmed by the thoughtful present, embraced by both Hoseok and the warmth of such a gift. The name at the bottom of the short pamphlet was the second surprise of the night. Min Yoongi, the contemporary painter, was organizing the whole event.
Namjoon was not a stranger to his work, himself being quite the museum wanderer. He had adored his work around gradients, each piece of art resonating within him for a reason he couldn’t grasp. Blue, greys, deep browns forming a story no one could explain. The mystery of the whole exhibition had made him ramble to his friends about it for weeks. Hoseok must have remembered the painter, closely holding on to the name until he could use this information.
“I want you to breathe again.” Hoseok had said after a while, put off by Namjoon’s silence. “Gyeongju will be good for you.”
Namjoon wouldn’t admit it directly to his friend but he thought it was pointless. Maybe not completely pointless. At least the trip would help him relax, but most of all finally get his sleep schedule back under control. Dealing with the breakup and his chronic fatigue had been a challenge. Perhaps the country’s air would help him rest.
The thought of painting and drawing for a month seemed like a dream come true. Meeting Min Yoongi, the man behind his love for contemporary art was an honour and almost unbelievable. However, Namjoon was utterly convinced it wouldn’t help him with his mental health, or mend his broken heart for that matter. He was convinced that the burn of his scrapped heart inside his chest wouldn’t lessen in the near future, Min Yoongi or no Min Yoongi..
However, when he decided what shirt he should pack, when he carefully selected the art pieces he’d like to finish there, he forgot, only for less than a minute, how awful he felt.
“Here I am.” He whispers over the robotic announcement of their arrival.
He had never visited the city despite it being one of the most visited places in the country. He had never taken the time to do so. Haneul despised traveling, she hated how uncomfortable she felt away from her own bed, her own kitchen, her own routine of waking up in the morning and watching the news on TV. Namjoon never formed much of an opinion on the matter, as he rarely left the capital. His parents didn’t have the money to fly to another country and so the young boy has never gotten to experience the charm of foreign landscapes.
Namjoon grabs his newly bought suitcase and his art folder, waddling through the aisle. The train is packed with tourists and locals making the most of the warm weather by visiting the city. He finally manages to get out of the train and find his bus to the location. The workshop is about ten minutes away from the station, up in the hills. His destination is written on a paper, a name he had never heard before. A quick naver search teaches him that he’s going to be staying in one of four traditional wooden Korean houses, renovated to welcome tourists.
The houses are hanoks, first designed and built in the 14th century during the Joseon dynasty. They’re nestled on the side of a hill east of Gyeongju. He steps out with two other persons but most seem to be getting there by car. He sees a cheery group of friends unloading their trunk a few meters away. The weather is warm, the sun burning Namjoon’s pale skin with its summer rays. He should have brought a hat.
Namjoon walks the dusty road, hands too busy holding his belongings to place them over his eyes in the hope of reducing the blinding sunlight. He’s not exactly sure where to go. He places his guess on the largest of the four houses, standing slightly higher than the three others. His intuition is confirmed when two more people roll their suitcases towards the same place. The sound of casters against the ground is loud, breaking the peace of nature’s quiet.
Only when Namjoon’s take shelter of the vicious sunlight does he take the time to observe his surroundings. The scenery is beyond gorgeous. From this height, they have a view of Gyeongju, snugly enclosed by the hills.
The hanoks Namjoon is going to be staying in look like they’ve been taken out of an historical drama; the wood panels and walls are only pierced for windows but topped with the characteristic curved roof. The whole place smells like dry wood, almost as if the houses were part of the forest themselves.
“Hi!” A chirpy voice interrupts Namjoon’s discovery. In front of him stands a light brown-haired man. He looks a little younger than Namjoon, his large smile probably making him seem even younger than he actually really is. “I’m Park Jimin!” The man introduces himself with a short bow.
“Kim Namjoon.” The man replies with a short incline of his neck as well.
“You’re here for the workshop Namjoon-ssi?” Jimin’s voice is high, his words so quick they melt into one another. Namjoon sees how he doesn’t have to try and convey his happiness; his whole demeanour makes him want to smile back.
“I am.” He replies simply. “Are you an artist as well?”
Jimin approves with a low sound. More people are gathering around them, a quick headcount takes Namjoon to 18, the maximum number of people that could sign up.
They all look quite different, tall and short, young and old, male and female standing in front of the main building. Except for the one group of friends Namjoon met earlier, most are silent and waiting awkwardly under the weight of their belongings.
“Min Yoongi-ssi should be there soon.” Jimin says. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to see him.”
Namjoon nods at that, it doesn’t seem quite real yet. But before he can answer, a man climbs on the wooden porch.
It’s Min Yoongi, Namjoon realises as the man turns around. He looks smaller than in his pictures, a little more laidback too, blonde hair falling freely over his eyes. Namjoon is already feeling starstruck. Bless Hoseok and his ideas.
“Hello everyone.” He says, deep voice filling the small courtyard. “My name is Min Yoongi and I’m the coordinator. It’s really nice to meet all of you. If I may, I’m going to cover the bases for this month-long retreat and then divide all of you into pairs for the rooms. But first of all, let me introduce myself a little further. I’ll be in charge of this workshop; however, you don’t have to see me as some kind of leader. I am, as well as you are, a painter and an artist first and foremost. My only job here is to help you get comfortable around here.”
Namjoon already likes the man. He likes the freedom they’re being given.
“Each morning, I will be here at 9 am. The goal is for us to find what we want to do for the day, sculpture, watercolour, you name it. You can work on personal projects. The whole idea is to help you expand your creativity. I also give out art classes in the afternoon but once again, it’s mostly going to be mutual help. The planning will be put up in the main house, you’re welcome to attend the ones you like. As you may have read already, today’s lunch is offered and from then on, you’ll be able to store your groceries in the different houses’ fridges. Today’s afternoon schedule is completely up to you, but I imagine you’ll go and buy what you need to survive for the week.”
A few laughs grow from their group.
“I already asked you to bring on-going projects and supplies to finish those, however the rest of the supplies you may need for this month are handed out. We tried to collect a bit of everything: paints, canvas, clay, knives… You can find it in the main house, I’ll show you where the storage room is before lunch. Obviously, art exists under so many different forms that we couldn’t think of everything. You’re very welcome to ask for anything lacking or if you buy from the shop anything we didn’t previously purchase, we’ll refund you.”
Namjoon admires the man's confidence, the way he stands is almost intimidating. Neck straight, arms moving around with charisma.
“As for the sleeping facilities, here I have a list with your name, houses and rooms. Not to worry, there are two beds per room.”
Most laugh again and Namjoon rolls his eyes before joining them. Min Yoongi then hands his list out to the people at the front and the sheet is passed around. Namjoon has barely the time to find his name before the sheet is grabbed and given to the next in line.
Namjoon will be sleeping in house 2, room A. “It’s written on the doors; you’ll find it really easily.” Min Yoongi says after pointing which house is which. Namjoon’s neighbour, Jimin, is also being lodged in the second house but in room B. “I’d rather you follow the list for now. I think meeting new people could be very beneficial for the overall good atmosphere I’d like to create.” Yoongi adds when one of the girls in the group of friends asks if they can room together.
The girl sighs and so does Jimin. “I wanted to room with you.” He says as if they hadn’t met a few minutes prior. “But it’s alright, we’ll be in the same house.”
There seems to be nothing that can dampen the young man’s mood. Even when one of his straps breaks as he tries to put his bag on his shoulder, he laughs and decides that it’s normal for old things to give out.
Jimin, Namjoon finds out, is a really easy person to talk to. He’s a bit over the top, his cheerfulness almost overwhelming for the introverted guy that Namjoon is. He’s incredibly nice, though.
Jimin does most of the talking. “My tire broke down yesterday night! I thought I was going to be stuck in Busan! Can you imagine... the day before the workshop, I would have been devastated.” Jimin opens the wooden door for Namjoon.
The difference between the interior and the exterior is striking. The main living area, despite being ornated with a traditional iron pot fireplace has a fully functional western kitchen. The doors are also more recent ones with locks. True to Yoongi’s words, the doors all have a letter on them. Three girls enter behind them and take their shoes off.
“I’m room B. Which one of you is Park Jimin?” One of the girls asks. She’s the softest looking of the three, dressed in a denim overall. Her hands are already covered with paint, even though they haven’t started.
“I am!” his new friend answers brightly. “You must be Wang Jihye, it’s very nice to meet you.” He bows politely.
It seems almost impossible to Namjoon that those two won’t get along. Not when he sees the satisfied smile of the girl. He hopes his roommate is nice too. Jeon… something. He already forgot. He’s awful with remembering first names, which has already been quite handicapping for his job.
“We’re going to settle in, let’s meet at 12 for lunch, ok?” Jimin asks Namjoon. The latter nods and the two disappear into their room. The two other girls also disappear into theirs, forming the final two housemates of hanok 2.
It’s 11:40 am and Namjoon just has enough time to unpack his clothes into one of the two wardrobes. The bedroom is nice, two queen sized beds against the wall taking most of the place.
He waits for his roommate to show up to know which bed to take but the man doesn’t. Even five minutes before lunch, he still hasn’t gone through the door.
Namjoon wonders what the guy has to do instead, this early in the workshop. Well, it’s ok, Namjoon shrugs, he’ll have to show up tonight eventually.
He walks to the lunch location.
The main hanok is built in a square with a nicely tended courtyard in the middle. He’s so used to the post-war buildings of Seoul, lifeless blocky apartment complexes, that the sight is unreal. He lives in one of those apartments, and he’s probably going to have to look for a smaller one soon as well. One person less is one salary less and he shouldn’t put that much into just his housing. Namjoon sighs. He shouldn’t think of that right now.
“So, what do you do, Namjoon-ssi?” Jimin asks while pouring him a glass of water.
“I’m a literature professor at Sogang University, in Seoul. I mostly deal with doctorates and help them through their thesis. I specialize in post 1950s Korean literature.”
“That’s so fancy.” Jimin sighs dreamily, holding his chin with both his hands.
Namjoon laughs at that. It does sound quite pompous. Sogang is Seoul’s 5th best ranked university, a fact his dad takes great pride in sharing.
“What about you?” he diverts the subject.
“Huh, huh. No, tell me more! How old are you? How did you end up there?” Jimin presses. His face is clearly offended. Namjoon is deflecting the subject so he complies and answers.
“I’m 28, I’ve been teaching there for a year. I wrote my thesis and completed my post doctorate in the same university, I got along with the other professors nicely so when the current doctoral supervisor had a sudden heart attack, I was asked to step in. It’s a nice job, time consuming, but nice.”
“So, you’re an artist AND a university professor?” Jimin pries, eyes wide and hanging on Namjoon’s words. He stuffs his mouth with pork belly.
“I wouldn’t call myself an artist. But I do paint.” He corrects in the nicest way possible.
Jimin nods thoughtfully and grabs a piece of pork belly to put on Namjoon’s rice. Surprised by the gesture, Namjoon nods in thanks and eats the piece. It seems to please his new friend.
“I’m 26,” Jimin says. “I’m a college dropout with a calligraphy obsession. I learned the art when I was 3 with my grandmother. She got me into lots of art styles but calligraphy stuck with me. When she died, I took on her business, I do calligraphy for a living now. I sell my pieces to whoever wants them, foreigners or locals.”
It’s an unexpected story. Jimin fidgets a lot, is extremely expressive with his hands and Namjoon can’t imagine him doing something as calm as calligraphy. His looks don’t fit the job but Namjoon should know better than that: his fiancé, Haneul, is an IT engineer in a decent firm, yet is one of the most well-groomed women he ever met. Or was. Ex-fiancé
“I’m sure it’s gorgeous, you’ll have to show me.” Namjoon says truthfully.
They chat a lot during dinner. Well, Jimin chats a lot and Namjoon answers. The more he gets to know the man the better he likes him. To be honest, Namjoon was scared he wouldn’t be able to make friends. He even negotiated with Hoseok to come and get him if he felt too lonely but with Jimin explaining how he managed to find a new tire at 2 am, he knows it won’t be a problem.
“I think I’ll do groceries tomorrow,” Jimin pounders out loud. “I brought a picnic for tonight just in case.”
“I’ll have to take the bus back to the city,” Namjoon answers. “I don’t have a car.”
“Oh! Don’t take the bus Namjoon-ssi. I will drive you for a grocery run, we could share my picnic for tonight. I always make a lot of food. You know how it is! You think it won’t be enough but you always end up with more,” he giggles.
“Thank you so much, Jimin-ssi.” Namjoon is relieved. He was expecting to spend the afternoon doing groceries, finding a supermarket and two buses. Considering the amount of food still on the table after an hour, he thinks that he won’t even have to take on Jimin’s food offer.
Jimin smiles brightly and puts another side dish on Namjoon’s plate. It’s a weirdly intimate act but it matches Jimin’s personality. Namjoon is too awkward to say something anyway.
They finish lunch quickly after that, and before Namjoon knows it, Jimin excuses himself for a nap and the man realises he has not talked to a single other person. He should probably greet the others but he feels like taking a rest from social interactions, tired by all the new faces around him.
He doesn’t know where his roommate is as well and chances are, he’s not among them, because the headcount is now down to 17.
Namjoon goes back to his bedroom in case the man is here but all he finds is one large traveling bag thrown over one of the beds. So, the mysterious Jeon roommate does exist and he chose the furthest bed from the window, giving Namjoon the biggest of the two mattresses and an easier access to the exterior. It’s… thoughtful, if it was a conscious decision. He will thank him anyway.
What should he do? Namjoon doesn’t feel like sleeping, which is a first, considering how tired he feels right now, and he has brought as little books as possible to focus on drawing. Maybe he should draw then. Isn’t it too early, won’t he look like a fool with his over-zealous attitude? “Don’t care, Namjoon,” he sighs for himself. He grabs his sketch book and decides to take it outside.
He finds a sitting spot on the wooden porch, facing the valley. Sketchbook forgotten; he lets his gaze wander around the place. It’s so beautiful, yet the word seems weak to describe the deep rich green of the vegetation. It makes him think of that French painter’s work, Le Douanier Rousseau, the innocent representation of wild life all in green. He almost expects an animal to come out of the woods. Namjoon wants to draw it, what it would be like to see a black bear emerge from behind the trees, or maybe what he would feel facing a majestic leopard.
And just like that inspiration strikes. He opens his sketchbook to the right page, and gets to work. Mechanical pencil grazing the granulated paper, he tries to accentuate the reality to fit Le Douanier Rousseau’s style. The trees are now enormous, framing the scene. He accentuates the leaves, disproportionate.
His notebook is slightly larger than an A4 paper and the sketch takes time. Namjoon tends to be the biggest critic of his own work, and he must have gone through two erasers since last year. It’s quite fun, though, to borrow an artist's style just for one piece. He usually studies the artist's style in depth but here, he doesn’t have enough data to do so. It’s both a source of stress and a creativity enabler. Namjoon has yet to decide if he likes it.
It takes around one and a half hours for Namjoon to be pleased with his work, as much as one artist can be proud of his own work. The leopard looks a bit stiff and the bear is not fluffy enough but he’ll be able to correct it while tracing over the pencil with a black ink pen.
Namjoon stretches for a while, and then goes back to work. The sun has lowered in the sky when he starts colouring.
And yet, his intense concentration flickers as a shadow cuts across his work. It’s human shaped, a head watching over him and Namjoon raises his gaze toward them.
There stands a man, the most beautiful Namjoon has ever seen. The top of his black hair is tied into a short ponytail behind his head, uncovering soft features. His eyes, deep as ink stand out the most, watching Namjoon as if wanting to say something. He's wearing an opened blueish hanbok with a modern twist to it, embroidered around the wrist and ankles with an intricate flower design. Clothes are too big on him and yet, Namjoon guesses the athletic figure underneath them. There is something deeply captivating about him. Maybe it's the unusual apparel for such a young man or maybe it's the edge of a tattoo peeking from under the collar of his black t-shirt.
"I'm Jeon Jungkook, your roommate. Can I draw here too?"
So that's his name. His arrival is as mysterious as his earlier absence. Namjoon shuffles to the side as if the man didn't have room to sit beside him already.
"Namjoon." The man answers back politely but is still entranced by the younger man's appearance. "Please do."
Jungkook doesn't thank him out loud but nods. He takes out his own sketchbook and silently gets to work. Namjoon could talk, should talk, but he doesn't know what to say. He feels his tongue stuck in its place, incapable of forming a coherent word.
Eventually, Namjoon goes back to colouring, chooses the deepest green but his mind is elsewhere. He suddenly can't get the right shade and his drawing which had seemed close to what he envisioned now feels dull, shadowed by a beauty even greater. No, Namjoon can't get Jungkook's face out of his head.
He throws one glance his way. He can indulge himself as much. One glance isn't creepy, one glance is barely caring about his surroundings. One look and he can go back to work.
Humans are drawn to mystery, there is no deeper fear than that of the unknown. Namjoon studied it, he wrote a whole essay on the weight of hiding facts to scare a reader. Namjoon is merely human. Jungkook is mysterious, a silent young man he just met; he just needs to see him again, to capture his beauty a second time.
And so, he glances. And his glance turns into a stare when he sees the man before his eyes. His side profile is just as beautiful, nose perfectly constructed under the evening lighting, almost symmetrical lips finishing the gorgeous line that runs from his hair to his chin.
Jungkook's beauty doesn't feel threatening, and Namjoon doesn't understand why. He's not a confident man and another handsome guy is a chance less for Namjoon to find a girlfriend, or to keep the one he has. Maybe he's thinking like this because he just broke up. Maybe Jungkook's charm feels unthreatening because Namjoon isn't looking for someone else at the moment.
Staring intently, he hopes Jungkook is too caught up in his work to notice. His eyes follow Jungkook's neck down to his clavicles and the collar of his shirt. He observes the tattoo again, in greater detail. It seems to be the end of a wing, or maybe a flower, the upper edge of an animal head. It's so big, it must take up at least half his chest. Namjoon wishes he could see the rest of the tattoo.
Namjoon turns a page and uncovers a blank one. He will come back to his leopard later. The lighting isn’t good, he can’t reproduce the forest green to perfection, instead, he traces by memory the shadow his roommate casted earlier on his paper. It was a fleeting darkness but he has no trouble recreating it. No trouble finding the exact curves of the man’s ears in his memory.
When the outline is done, Namjoon proceeds to colour the whole shape in a deep grey, trying to encapsulate the exact emotion that went through him. He fails: none could be able to reproduce the flutter of his heart when his eyes crossed with Jungkook’s.
At 7:30 pm, Namjoon stretches once more and stands up. He’s done and hungry. But most of all, he’s really tired and he can’t afford tiring himself out, not with his disease.
“Do you want to go and eat something at the main house?” He offers, praying his voice won’t betray his inner turmoil
“I’ll draw a little longer,” Jungkook says simply.
His voice is still as sweet and rich. Namjoon nods dumbly and leaves, a pinch in his chest. He would have loved to know the man better.
He’ll have another chance. Eventually.
When he comes back to the room after 9pm, having enjoyed a dinner with lots of new people, Jungkook is already asleep, hugging a pillow to his chest.