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“There’s a carnival in town.” Namjoon looks at the nearby flyer with his hands clasped behind his back. Jimin is thoroughly confused about why he looks so thoughtful towards a miniscule flyer that looks like it took 20 seconds on Microsoft Word.
“Why are you telling me this? Do you want to go?”
Namjoon hums, looking at the flyer harder. “No.”
They continue walking, the city life buzzing around their slow pace. They have nowhere to go, only basking in their surroundings. A car beeps to their right and a lady yells on the phone in front of them yet it’s still peaceful. “Then why did you comment on it,” Jimin mutters, shrinking his hands inside of his sweater to create sweater paws. The oversized bag on the shoulder opposite of the other slipping slightly.
It’s not a question yet Namjoon answers anyways. “I’m hungry.”
“I told you to eat before we left home.”
“I wasn’t hungry then.”
Jimin groans, pulling out his phone to check restaurants near them and adjusting the shoulder bag. To the side of him Namjoon takes in the sky, no longer looking at the path in front of him. Within their bubble all noise is muted besides their own voices. Jimin scrolls, attempting to find something suitable and within his Target paycheck budget.
Rent is due soon.
They continue like this, Namjoon now staring ahead of them after realizing they both weren’t paying attention. In an effort to prevent Jimin from injuries, he reaches under Jimin’s sweater paw to hold his hand. Jimin pays no mind, still reading yelp reviews. “It’s going to rain soon.”
“Namjoon, did you even look at the weather today?”
He doesn’t speak after that, preferring to think about what hobby he should take up next. Last week he tried taking up karate. (Jimin forced him to stop when Namjoon almost kicked his cat across the room (Dog was fine, by the way)). When Jimin finally finds a restaurant with enough positive yelp reviews, he tightens the hold of their hands and walks faster, leading Namjoon. He stumbles slightly when he walks, trying not to step on the back of Jimin’s feet with his long legs. Around the corner is a pizza parlor nearly empty except for a few high school students laughing quietly around a table.
They order in less than two minutes, Namjoon closing his eyes and randomly pointing at a pizza dish and Jimin selecting his usual preference. When they finally sit down Jimin watches comically as Namjoon scrunches his nose lightly while chewing. He doesn’t know when he began to read Namjoon’s slightest movements, but somehow Jimin doesn’t mind.
“You don’t like it?”
“I don’t like mushrooms or olives.”
“Then why did you order it.” Jimin raises his eyebrow, biting into his cheese pizza.
“I didn’t read what was in it.” Namjoon sighs in his reply, staring dejectedly while attempting to pick off what he didn’t like.
“So you just closed your eyes, pointed, and didn’t read anything?” Namjoon nods and if Jimin wasn’t accustomed to him, it would be irritating.
But he’s Jimin and somewhere down the road, he could only picture himself with Namjoon trailing along. So he lets out a short breathy laugh before switching their pizzas. He doesn’t mind mushrooms and olives, and even if he did, Jimin would still trade with him. He gets a dopey smile in return and Namjoon bites, chewing slowly while looking outside of the window, head resting on the back of his hand. Jimin takes in his heavy eyes, figuring that he’s there but not completely there . Always a million miles away, always thinking or imagining. It happens some days more than others, on days where Namjoon more tired than usual, movements sluggish and demeanor similar to a sloth.
Jimin likes these days.
He likes the random comments Namjoon makes during them, all completely irrelevant. He likes sitting next to him, basking in the peace and finding himself daydreaming about where Namjoon is next. Jimin loves being dragged into the nearest bed or sofa with him, listening to Namjoon sleepily talk about nothing into the air until they nap. He loves listening and reassuring Namjoon that he is being listened to.
It happens too often, when people write off Namjoon’s comments or opinions, thinking he has nothing important to say.
(Jimin thinks Namjoon is the smartest person he’s met. Within his quiet stories and dreaming, there are sprinkles of truth and wisdom that come in the form of coconut trees and Mount. Everest.)
They sit, nibbling slowly, Namjoon observing the outside world from within their quiet bubble, and Jimin scrolling on his phone, occasionally smiling when he finds something funny.
“You have therapy tomorrow, right?”
“I do. Why? Are you coming again?”
“I go to all of your sessions.”
“I still don’t know why.” He shakes his head, placing his phone down. Jimin is grateful that he is wearing a sweater when he places his elbows on the table and feels the chill seep through the cloth, head resting on his arms. He observes Namjoon closer, taking in the way his hands are still a bit dyed from last night. (They dyed their hair together, both sitting on the bathroom floor together talking, Dog and Cat resting between them. His hair is now an electric purple, surprising to Jimin seeing as Namjoon is the type of person to blend into crowds and observe. Jimin guesses Namjoon may think the same while staring at his pastel pink hair.) “All you do is sit in the waiting room with a yo-yo.”
“I’m not allowed to bring my harmonica.”
“You never answer my questions.”
“I like going to your therapy sessions to support you. You’re always drained when you leave,” Namjoon tone drops into a soft almost whisper, now fully looking at Jimin, head still propped on his arm. “I’m not your therapist. I can’t heal all your wounds, but i’d like to think i’m helping in any way I can. That includes coming with you, just so you know i’m there.”
And Jimin doesn’t know what to say. So many times he is left speechless by the sincerity in Namjoon’s words. The way Namjoon stares into his eyes, like he hopes Jimin can feel his dedication towards being with him every step of the way. All of the nights crying in Namjoon’s arms that slowly faded into just laying in them. The time where Jimin was dragged to the dog park to help Namjoon convince the security that his cat should be let in because her name is Dog. (Jimin wasn’t much help, by the way. He stood a few feet away pretending to be a bystander.) Or the all of the times they have picnics under the stars with Dog and Cat, music softly playing.
He feels so undeserving.
Jimin goes to speak, to say any words possible to express his thankfulness when suddenly it rains. Heavily it pours, and they both watch from inside their bubble how everyone begins to run, ducking their head and attempting to weave through crowds. “You were right.”
“I’m not always right.”
Jimin nods, turning back to look at Namjoon. “You’re not, but neither am I.”
“No one is.”
Jimin hums in agreement, standing up. “Try not to die while I go to the bathroom.”
He is gone for three minutes.
He should’ve known better, but it took Namjoon exactly three minutes to clear off their table and stand outside in the rain. Jimin doesn’t know how he managed to be soaking wet in such a short period of time. Then he remembers that he’s Namjoon and he has always managed to do the impossible.
Jimin pulls out an umbrella from his bag, walking out of the door and simultaneously opening it. “I told you not to die.”
“I’m not dying.” And he has the audacity to pout.
“Get under the fucking umbrella,” Jimin mumbles, holding his arm higher to fit Namjoon under it. They walk slowly in silence, looking at the busy life around them and with each step Jimin sees memories they had together appear. It’s been a little over a year and with each day Namjoon makes himself a fixture in Jimin’s life.
“Where are we going?”
“Home to get you dry.”
That phrase isn’t new. They both have used it a countless amount of times, referring to both apartments as their home, somewhere they both belong. And with this sudden realization, Jimin doesn’t mind.
Home this time just so happens to be Namjoon’s apartment, where both Dog and Cat were today while they were gone. Namjoon bends down, taking an excited Cat in his arms while laughing, dimples appearing while he is being licked. “Put Cat down while you're wet, please. I don’t need two sets of puppy trails in the house.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“Then stop needing to be taken care of,” Jimin grumbles, already walking towards the bathroom to grab spare towels. All of Namjoon’s towels are covered in strange prints or designs and at first it was confusing, but now he has grown fond of them. “I don’t understand how the hell you managed to live alone all this time with a fucking cat .”
Jimin walks back and sees that the disbelief in his voice caused Namjoon to pout from where he is sitting cross-legged on the floor in the living room, Cat rested in his lap. (Dog hasn’t moved an inch from where she is laying at the window sill.) However, Namjoon replies with nothing, only whining slightly when Jimin sits on his knees in front of him, lifting a towel to dry his hair.
This continues for a few movements before Namjoon peeks his head out from under the towel, staring up at Jimin. “I’m wet.”
It’s all too cute. It’s extremely cute and the tone of his voice is so soft that Jimin smiles hard. Hard enough that he can no longer see and his chest feels like sitting with Namjoon by a fireplace. Jimin is more than fond, he grows to realize, and it should be concerning. He should be having a meltdown, wondering what the fuck he is going to do. “You are.”
But Jimin isn’t.
With the grey clouds rolling slowly in the sky, dripping rain everywhere but inside their quiet space, Jimin realizes he is in love. He finds that it’s okay.
“When i’m dry can we make a volcano from clay?”
It’s so sudden that Jimin lets out a laugh, startling Dog where she sits at the window. He nods slowly, continuing to rub Namjoon’s hair lightly with the towel.
And it’s okay.