somewhere among the stars

“The message is very clear…” he sips from his champagne glass, peering around the room as he does so before he finishes his thought. “We should talk about that some time, you’ve always had an eye for the prettier things. I’m sure my niece or wife would love a pair of earrings, just like those.” Godfrey pats his shoulder again, slithering like a snake as he shifts to Namjoon’s other side. Godfrey whispers in his ear as he does so, speaking softly, “This’ll open us up to the cameras a bit more.”

Once he does so, Godfrey lets out a joyous laugh, his sharp white teeth on full display to the room of photographers and press. “I’ve always had a passion for helping people. I just figured this would be a great…avenue to stumble into. Art has always served as an inspiration for my work. And it’s always good to return to one’s roots in that way.” He nods, his smile unmoving. It looked rather unnatural in person, but Godfrey knows this angle, this smile, this position would result in grandiose praise in the early morning’s of magazine prints. 

“I’m surprised you accepted my offer for the space.”

Whenever Namjoon was near Gao, and that didn’t happen a lot lately, there was always a moment - could be a few seconds, minutes or on rare occasions even hours - in which he forgets what happened in the past because Gao almost acts like a decent person around him. Easy conversation, easy smiles. It’s so easy to buy into the lie, so Namjoon remembers how they were almost friends once, working together for hours and hours trying to give birth to that Best Seller. 

He sips from his drink too, and the moment is gone as quick as it came when Gao whispered in his ear. Everything was fabricated, Namjoon, nothing was real. He should have known better, again. 

He spends a lot of minutes staring at it, letting his thoughts go to the moon and back. “It’s a beautiful concept, isn’t it?” he asks, eyes still on the piece. It’s hard for him to decide whether it brings him some sense of hope or it reminds him of his sorrow. “It is… uh I can’t find the right word for this.” Seokjin finally takes his eyes off the set and glances over at the tall male beside him. “Is it really your favorite here? Like… Would you let me take it home if I decide how I feel about it later?” he asks, wondering if he should even consider it or not, because if it was special to the other, he would feel bad about buying it.

Namjoon stays right there beside Seokjin watching him admire the piece with an excited smile on his face, like when you show a friend your favourite comic book and they seem to love it. 

When Seokjin talks Namjoons eyebrows shoot up. “Of course I would, Jin sshi. They deserve to have a home.” He says naturally like he’s talking about a puppy that needs an owner. “If it speaks to you, of course, I would. I know you love those things as much as I do, your collection must be huge! But look around, relax.” He smiles at Seokjin, patting his shoulder. Namjoon’s left dimple was deeper than the right one. 

 “Why ponder on the things in life that stress you out?”

 He tends to say to himself

Halfway into a Joey Graceffa Video, his phone buzzed. Glancing over at his phone he sighed, pausing the video so e could check his phone. His hand trembled when he 1: saw it was a email & 2: saw title as “Con-”. Swallowing hard he adjusted his glassed and quickly opened the email. reading it three times over really fast, as if it he could not fully read it but convinced himself he had.  That didn’t work. Reading slower the last time, his mouth dropped open..

“I…I made it..” He blinked the tears forming in his eyes, putting a hand over his mouth. Dropping the phone on the kitchen counter, he popped out of his stool, wobbling around before running into his mini at home printing lab, starting to print out his work. His thought suddenly went over to his grandmother, and how she wouldn’t never thought he would get this far in life. He smiled that he proved the dead hag wrong and continued to prep.

When it came the day for the eight winners of the contest to deliver the physical, framed photographies, Namjoon, the Gallery owner, was beyond excited. His assistant had to gently touch his shoulder every five minutes to stop him from bouncing on the tip of his Saint Laurent Bedford hi-top sneakers.   

Namjoon loves meeting new artists, talking about everything with them, is his favourite part of holding those contests. The winners would have the chance to show their work at a prestige gallery, have the chance to network, have the chance to take the next step with their art that not many galleries offer to independent artists with not a name or career under their belt. 

There are beautiful things all around, all you have to do is look. 

So, the contest winners had until this last day to drop by the gallery with their work to organize everything on the stands and walls, go over the instructions for the opening day, and just talk a little. 

“There’s Kim Taehyung on the list still, along with the other three that haven’t shown up.” The assistant said, checking the open checklist on the tablet. Namjoon immediately perked up, dimples showing and all.

“Ah, Kim Taehyung sshi, the one with the landscape photographies?” The assistant nodded. “Ah, this kid has a soft eye dor things. I really liked it. Can’t wait to meet him.” 

Tenderly rubbing Namjoon’s shoulder, he lets out a quiet oh at his response. “Yeah, we do…” He agrees in a soft tone of voice. “Everyone needs saving, right?” Asking, maybe rhetorically or maybe not, his lips delicately curl up.

Sensing that maybe the subject of their chit-chat was going towards somewhere sensitive and abstract, Namjoon figured it would be best to get a handful of popcorn and push it against Jiyong’s mouth so they could laugh over that instead of starting to think about things they couldn’t solve at the moment. 

Eventually, when the film was over, Namjoon felt full of popcorn and lazy, thrown along the couch that he filled with his supermodel long legs, using Jiyong as a pillow.

Several years ago Kim Namjoon could be an invisible shadow for many of you, maybe he still is, but there was a handful of students for whom he wasn’t half as irrelevant because he was their last resort at times. The Tailor had a pretty impressive business sense, I must say. Little seemed to care about him and I almost ended up overlooking him too until I discovered his early source of income. It’s widely known that Cheongnam High was full of thick-headed rich kids and some of them instead of bribing the teachers would pay Namjoon a good sum of money, so he would do their papers for them. And with what precision! Isn’t it interesting our usually ignored smart cookie now owns an art gallery? The masterpieces may require an expert’s investigation.

Perspective is a funny thing. 

For example, the fact the Namjoon saw his name pop up on that app with gossip surrounding him could be potentially harming. Maybe play with his insecurities, maybe bad mouth him - or the fact that he used to do people’s papers in exchange for money when in reality he asked for charity work. 

But the fact that Namjoon was reading about himself on that app while taking a refreshing scented shower on his white stone Imperia bathtub doing a sheet mask didn’t feel harming at all. In fact, if he squinted, it almost looked like Gossip Girl was paying him a compliment? 

"I’m sorry, hyung.” But Namjoon was smiling just as calmly, toeing his sneakers off to crouch in front of the coffee table so he could start organizing the napkins, cups to drink Coke and the main star, bucket or chicken. “I just like taking care of you.” 

They might have only exchanged conversations via e-mail through all those years but somehow Namjoon knew that Seokjin would be the type to use exquisite to describe something. The brushed landscape on canvas was really beautiful so the word fits the moment. 

Every time Seokjin looks, Namjoon meets him with a smile and his dimples, coaxing his friend to have a look and have fun there. Art is to be admired, to probe and poke at your sensations. “I do, actually.” 

Already knowing where everything was, Namjoon simply walked to a small glass display with a set of two pottery cups and a plate with golden veins running all around them. He signalled Seokjin to come close.

“Do you know kintsugi? It’s a Japanese technique to restore broken pottery using gold.” Namjoon’s voice was made for explaining art, it seemed. Calm and soothing, even when he sounded excited to be speaking. “It represents our life, too. When we break and manage to repair ourselves, our scars should be celebrated. They become part of who we are, and proof that we are still here. We shouldn’t try to hide them.”

—

Yeah, it was strange that they kept in touch in a way or another. Truthfully, after the shock passed, Seokjin was somewhat glad that things ended up like this, otherwise he’d have pushed him away like he did with the others. A few years ago, he couldn’t stand the idea of talking to someone who was part of his high school years. “I had no idea it would turn out like this. Destiny is a funny thing, isn’t it?” he chuckled, shaking his head lightly. “How did you end up working with art? With your grades, I thought you’d be some Science Genius or something,” he asked, genuinely curious, but regretted bringing up the latter, afraid it would revive the topic of Cheongnam High.

"Destiny is funny. Makes you think..." He purposefully lets this sentence hanging because Namjoon is the type of guy to think about such things. Destiny, stars, feelings. Our significance in relation to the whole universe. Doesn't mean people want to hear about it, though.

"You know, you're not the first person to point this science stuff out." Namjoon smiles again, comfortable to admit at least that part. "I'm still very much that same geek kid, I just dress better now."

More importantly, there's a section of the gallery being a textured glass door that is usually locked. They reserve the space for smaller vernissages or important casual meetings, a private space with more structure - more welcoming, less sterilized atmosphere. When Namjoon slides the door, he lets Jin have the chance to walk in first.

Sculptures, paintings, photographs - everything arranged in a way that almost feels like home decor instead of an art gallery, maybe something to do with the fact that this room had actual furniture.

“Oh please,” Seokjin protests, brushing off the nice words, and hopes his cheeks won’t become red. It’s not like he isn’t used to compliments, but the whole situation makes him feel coy, almost enough to make him play humble. “But uh- you look good too, Namjoon” he says honestly. And suddenly, he doesn’t know what to say or how to keep this conversation going without ruining everything and bringing up stuff that he shouldn’t. Scratching the back of the neck, Seokjin says, “I… I uh- returned to Seoul a few weeks ago and I have plent of white walls to decorate, so I really wanted to stop by and get something nice. One of them caught my attention, but… Maybe there’s some hidden gem that I should see first?”

Inside, Namjoon is not good at handling compliments on his appearance, - genuine compliments, not ones dripping with sarcasm crafted to make him feel self-conscious and second guess himself - he always feels that small part of him, the high school kid part of him, struggling to find truth in any of those words. He was never known for his looks back then, but for his brain and his money. 

Yes, he changed.

He got taller, his shoulders stretched, his hair is unquestionably better styled, nice fitting clothes with silky fabric, discreet jewellery adorning his fingers, wrists, neck, earlobe. A pair of glasses that finally suits his face. 

But it’s hard to school himself into accepting those words when he doesn’t completely believe in them. Outside, though, his smile reaches his eyes. He felt giddy, meeting Seokjin under those mysterious, movie-like circumstances. Something with a plot twist, a hooking plotline, feeding his curiosity one spoonful at a time.