#kmj

Location: At the Local Vintage Record Shop.

Part 2

As the days rolled by, I started to notice a few small details about Esmeralda as I visited her cafe everyday. The way she would get annoyed of her hair and put it up. It would create a lovely bun where pieces of her curls would come out and frame her face. I enjoyed when she would put it back down later because it always smelled good. It was something sweet and I couldn’t get enough of it. I wanted to bury my face in her hair to smell it and remember it. I would notice how she would bite the inside of her cheek when she was nervous. The way she would fake laugh with a regular elderly gentlemen that insisted on taking her out. I noticed the way she would do her makeup. It was always the same thing. A little bit of blush on her high cheekbones that complemented her beauty mark near her left eye. The way her lip balm would color her lips red, almost giving her a natural tint to it. As if she had just ate cherries. The way her mascara would make her eyes pop. I noticed that her eyes weren’t just brown. They were such a deep brown that they looked almost red, like the Arizona rocks in Sedona . It was beautiful. Don’t even get me started how they looked when the sun hit them just right.

I started to get to know her and was easily becoming infatuated with her. I knew why I was behaving this way. She was a breath of fresh air. Something new. Something that evoked feelings within me that I had buried deep down. It was a bit terrifying.

“You still haven’t visited the beach right?” She asked me one day, after closing up her shop. I had been there for the last week, every single day. I had noticed most of the time she had two other employees with her. She mostly supervised and helped them out when she needed. Sometimes she’d stop by my table to see what I was doing but she couldn’t read Korean.

She closed everyday at 2:00 pm for the daily riposo. I hadn’t even known that was a thing. It was amazing how a whole town slowed down their life as if it was nothing. I was so used to living life everyday in a hurry. Somewhere to be. Always a deadline at the end of a finished one.

The way that she lived her everyday life made me a bit jealous of a normal life. A slow life that was about owning a coffee shop with a bookstore. Just enjoying and taking it day by day. I had almost forgotten how it was like. I didn’t want to take for granted the way my life was.

Never.

It was all I had dreamed of.

But I was a bit envious. Just slightly.

“No, I’ve been too busy writing and reading. Sorry for being such a—”

She held her hand up, freshly manicured nails flashing, “Don’t even finish that sentence, Namjoon. You’re not a nuisance. I told you already. I enjoy having your company around.”

I gave her a shy nod, feeling my face get hot. I acted like such a dork around her, “Were you trying to go to the beach?”

“Actually, yes. Follow me. I’ll show you the non tourist spot.”

I matched her pace, not slowly but not too quick. Just right.

She led me beside the cafe, a small gate that was a rustic brown peaking through the brick wall. It had been oblivious to me considering I had been walking by it everyday.

“Is this where you live? Behind your shop?”

“Yes. Did you want to come in?” Esmeralda opened the gate and led us inside her tiny home. She had a garden bed of veggies and flowers near her door. There were also tomatoes attached to a metal trellis, causing the vines to create an arch of vines and reds.

She hadn’t told me she was a gardener. I took out my camera and snapped a few pictures without her noticing. She had her backed turned. Everything looked beautiful.

“I think I’ll stay out here if that’s ok.” I said as I inspected her garden and snapped more pictures, “I like your garden. I didn’t know you planted stuff.”

“I wasn’t into gardening before. My grandma had a lot of stuff and I hated the idea of them dying because of me. I had to learn and it took a lot of patience.” She looked around, with a sad smile on her face, “Give me a second. I’m just gonna grab a couple of beach towels and snacks so we can head out.”

I took the time while she was inside her house to wander around her yard. She had an olive tree that was huge. Some small green round tomato like vegetables. More flowers and a hammock wedged between two huge fruit trees. Oranges and apples. There were a couple of iron chairs and an iron table with a vintage looking design near the trees as well. Everything about her home (well outside) screamed Esmeralda.

When Esmeralda came out again, about ten minutes or so after, she was dressed in pale linen shorts. She had on baby blue bikini top, with a linen shirt that was unbuttoned. Her dainty tattoo peaking underneath her breasts. I couldn’t make out what it said without looking like a pervert.

She looked at me with a wide smile, excited, “Have you ever ridden a vespa before?”

The only acceptable time to ever grab onto a girl that you’ve barely met is when you’re riding on a vespa. No one will judge you. It was still a little awkward for the first half of the ride but once the scent of her sweet fruity, coconut scented curls hit my nostrils, I relaxed. Her warm body caused me to get shivers in the summer heat. I didn’t even mind the fact that my stomach area was getting a bit damp from sweat. I didn’t want to let her go considering I had been thinking about her touches since I first met her. Only other touch I had felt from her had been that one day when we accidentally grazed hands but she seemed so unbothered by it. I got a taste of the soft skin for a millisecond and it had consumed my mind for the last couple of days. Intoxicating and slightly annoying. I wish I could freeze time.

“Why did you move to Italy again?” We had gotten to the beach not too long ago. She had placed two colorful beach towels on the sand. A polka dot umbrella as well so we wouldn’t get too scalded by the sun.

She laughed awkwardly, not a real laugh but I didn’t mind, “Ok don’t judge me. I moved here on my last year of university. For a guy but he ended up cheating on me with my only friend.” She shook her head, “I did graduate though. Then shortly my grandma passed and I had started to grow fond of Italy. Of course, I didn’t want to be in Rome so I packed my bags and moved to my grandma’s home since she left it for me. I opened the shop and been at peace since. That was almost five years ago.”

My eyebrows raised before scrunching together, what an idiot of a guy, “What did you study?”

“Anthropology. Linguistics. Ancient Greek. A lot of things.” She dug into her backpack, taking out glass tupperware, something bright pink shining in the sun, “I know, I know. My parents kept telling me I was wasting my time with a degree in anthropology but I love humanity and being human. It’s such a weird experience and everyone’s life is unique because of the way they were raised.” She popped the lid open revealing freshly cut watermelon, “Want some?”

“I think anthropology is an amazing major if I’m being honest.” I shrugged, grabbing a red cube, “The world is very ethnocentric right now. I feel like we need anthropologists more than ever to remind us.”

She gave me a big smile, “I like that a lot. Thank you for not downplaying my studies… Speaking of anthropology. I’m gonna share something with you.” She pulled out a plastic container with something that looked like spices, “Have you ever had watermelon with tajin?” “

I took the bottle from her hands, inspecting it. I had never seen anything like it.

“It’s from my culture. Mexico to be precise.”

I raised my eyebrow, “You’re Mexican? I thought you were Italian.”

She laughed, “You’re not wrong. Dad’s Italian. Mom’s Mexican. They met when my dad took a trip to Mexico City after he graduated college. Such a bizarre story that I will share another time.”

“You’re gonna have to tell me about growing up in two different cultures.” She took the bottle from my hands and sprinkled some of the seasoning onto the watermelon, “Is it spicy?”

She shook her head, “Not really. Well, I don’t think it is. It’s more savory and sour but some people might think it’s spicy.” She chewed, “I’ve had spicy Korean food before so I think you’ll be ok.”

I plopped the watermelon into my mouth and closed my eyes. The taste was peculiar but enjoyable. It reminded me of something but I couldn’t remember the name.

“Oh.” My eyes popped wide, not believing how incredible it was, “Oh yeah, that’s definitely something I’m gonna be eating from now on. How did I go years without ever trying that? I really gotta get out more.”

The irony about my statement because I did get out way more than the normal person.

She threw her head back, laughing, “I knew you would enjoy it. Oh my goodness.” She sprinkled more onto a piece and handed it to me, “If you ever find yourself in Mexico, especially Mexico City, you have to try mango with it. It’s even better.”

I gave her a smile, “I’ve been to Mexico a couple times. I’m pretty sure I’m heading back out again sometime next year. They lo—“ I cut myself off before realizing what I was gonna say.

They love us over there

Are you kidding, Namjoon? Get it together.

She raised her eyebrow, “Wait really? I go back once a year for day of the dead and Christmas. Day of the dead is huge holiday where we honor the dead and the whole family gathers. It’s a beautiful time. You should visit during that time once in your life. It’s life changing.” She pulled her hair up, messy curly bun, “Do you guys have anything like that?”

“The closest thing I can tell you is Chuseok.” I took my shades off, placing them on my head, “It’s kind of like thanksgiving. It’s not just about the dead but we do go to our ancestors graves and bow to show respect, bring food and stuff like that.”

“I’m going to have to visit South Korea in the near future and you have to teach me some phrases and show me around.” She beamed at me before looking towards the beach, not noticing the slight change in my face at the last part, “Do you know how to swim?”

I looked around and noticed how empty the beach was. About a handful of people were there minding their own business. Mostly elderly.

“I’m not the best swimmer.”

“Lucky for you, I am. C’mon.” She stood up, taking off her clothes revealing her swimsuit and soft looking skin. Her insane curves having me mesmerized. She stretched out her arm to me, holding her hand out, snapping me out my dirty thoughts.

“Ok, but if I drown. It’s your fault.”

She raised an eyebrow with a cheeky smile, “I know

CPR.”

kmjohnson: Happy Father's Day! 👔

📍Turtle Bay, South Carolina.

Location: Tattoo Shop.

Location: Founders Festival. (Area for Music and Dancing.)

MALE, HE/HIM/THEY. Hey, is that NICK JONAS, no that is just KRISTOPHER (KJ) MATTHEW JOHNSON around Turtle Bay. I heard they are 34 years old, and their birthday is JANUARY 1, 1992. They rest their heads in the SUNNISIDE but they can mainly be found working as RADIO DISC JOCKEY in the DOWNTOWN. Some say they are OBEDIENT, PATIENT, and TRADITIONAL can be PERFECTIONIST, WORKAHOLIC, and COCKY. I hear they are a NEWCOMER either way Turtle Bay is home and welcomes you! 

Pairing: idol! namjoon x female

Summary: Namjoon is trying to find himself again after feeling like he lost himself. What he didn’t expect was to find someone in a small town that got him and his emotions.

The gravel underneath my feet made small noises as I walked slowly to nowhere in particular. I had been wandering around the small town for at least forty minutes with my camera, taking everything in. It was about eight miles from the ocean. I would be going to the ocean eventually, but the town was interesting enough. Very medieval like. It felt almost surreal.

The air had been pleasant and the sun was shining bright but it didn’t burn. It felt like a hug. The last time I had been to Italy, it had been extremely humid and everything was sticky. I showered three times and nearly went for a fourth time but decided against it.

It can’t be good for your skin, Joon

Jin had teased me about it but I knew he was being serious. I missed my boys tremendously but serving for my country had taken a toll on me. I felt like a stranger and it terrified me. I didn’t tell anyone except my manager where I was going. They kept texting me and asking where I was. All I could say was that I was working on something important and that I needed to be alone for a bit to make the album come to life. For us to stay together.

Yoongi guessed correctly what country I was at but I had to keep my cool and play dumb. I didn’t want to stay in Rome or Venice though. I didn’t want to be anywhere with a huge population where I might get recognized. I needed to make it to at least a month with quietness and peacefulness before anyone found me. If anything, I needed to find myself first.

Piccola Mensola was where I found myself. I walked in and was smacked by the smell of coffee and greeted by wooden floors. The bookstore itself was a little tiny with natural lighting coming in. Plants were in every corner. It spacious enough to have its own coffee shop on the corner with a couple of tables. It didn’t seem too busy. There was an elderly couple in the corner smiling as they whispered to each other as they held their coffee mugs. There was another person, a guy, reading a book that he had pulled from the shelf. I looked around before my eyes made themselves acquainted with the barista that was smiling at me. She looked around my age, perhaps younger. I couldn’t tell. I also couldn’t tell if she recognized me. She smiled warmly at me and before I realized, I was in front of her. She wasn’t much shorter than me. About three inches or so. Her hair stood out to me the most. It was curly but there was also some waves here and there, a little bit of frizz that made it look bigger than it was. She had a bandana wrapped around her head, as if trying to hide or control her hair. She had huge deer eyes that were the color of coffee after you splash a little bit of milk. Brown eyes were so common in South Korea but hers were intriguing. They seemed expressive and kind.

“Hey,” I cleared my throat, “sorry. Um, ciao, cómo estás?”

She giggled, “Hello, I’m good. How’re you?”

I felt like a moron but also relieved.

“I’m good too, thank you. May I get one cappuccino please?”

She gave me a nod before turning away and getting started on it. As she was making my drink I noticed a couple of dainty tattoos on her biceps. She turned around and I looked away awkwardly. I didn’t want her to think I was checking her out. I mean, I was but not like that.

She giggled once again when she was in front of me, making my stomach turn. Did she recognize me?

“I don’t mean to come off as rude but you spoke Spanish earlier instead of Italian.”

Yet again, felt like a moron for assuming everyone knows me.

“I did?” I chuckled, feeling my face get red, “They’re very similar… Do you speak Spanish?”

She gave me a shy nod, “Where’re you coming from? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“South Korea.”

“That’s a long flight.”

She grabbed my drink before I could respond and started walking towards a table near one of the bookshelves. She gave me a nod indicating to follow her before turning again. She set down my mug and smiled at me.

“Feel free to ask me any questions about the books or if you’re curious about the town. I know all about it.”

The cafe was playing some sort of jazz. It was pleasant. The energy in the coffee shop was cozy and very welcoming. I felt like writing stuff. Almost as if inspiration was hitting me or on the verge of.

By the time I was done writing, ten pages later, I didn’t realize that the sun had shifted outside. The coffee shop wasn’t playing jazz anymore and the barista was sweeping up. The cozy coffee shop had turned cold, and quiet. My cappuccino long gone. I stood up quickly, almost causing the mug to drop on the floor.

“Did you close already? I am so so sorry.”

The girl looked at me with an amused expression, “Don’t worry about it. We close in fifteen minutes. Plus, you looked very concentrated. I wouldn’t want to disrupt you.” She played with the broom, passing it between hands, “What’re you writing if I may ask?”

I wanted to bow and apologize again, but I don’t think she would understand, so all I could do was smile awkwardly, “I’m writing down my thoughts. Trying to make sense of it all. Being human that is.”

A slight lie. I didn’t want to reveal I was writing music in case she decided to google me.

She tilted her head slightly, “Being a human is hard at times. So many emotions. I always get upset when I think about not being able to experience everything life has to offer because we don’t get much time.” She looked around the room, as if she were thinking of something, “Did you want to check out the books?”

I had forgotten that it was a bookstore because I was so engrossed in my writing.

“No, it’s ok. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“You cannot get me in trouble. I own this. Please, go ahead.”

“Oh.” I chucked quietly, “Well, is it ok if I browse around until you close?”

She nodded and turned away.

The books themselves were a little hard to understand considering 95% of them were in Italian. There were a few I recognized but they still intrigued me because the cover was different and the language. It looked beautiful. I almost wanted to buy it just to have it. Maybe I could teach myself Italian.

By the time I was done browsing, I had gotten a book and a pen.

“I think— I think I’m gonna take this one.” I said as I put it on the counter.

She looked up at me through her lashes, almost seductively. It sent a tingle through my spine. I had a fantasy about this once but instead of a barista, it was a librarian. It was a few years back and—

“Do you know Italian?” She pulled off her apron, “I do have English books if you want to check them out.”

“No, no. It’s ok. I like the cover of this.”

She chuckled, “Okay then.” She grabbed the book from my hands gently and wrapped it in brown paper, “What’s your name?”

“Namjoon. What’s yours?” I cracked my finger.

“Esmeralda.” She handed me the book, “If you’re hungry there’s a really good restaurant a few blocks down called Mangiare.”

“Eat?” I had studied a few words before coming here because I didn’t want to sound ignorant.

“Are you sure you don’t speak Italian?”

I laughed, a genuine laugh, “I like to study words before visiting a country. The last time I was here I did the mistake of not studying and I felt stupid.”

Her eyes shined, “Where did you go last time?”

“I went to Venice and Milan. This time I wanted to get way from that. It’s nice here.” I realized I didn’t want to leave Esmeralda yet, I wanted to get to know her and her beautiful angelic face, “Have you always lived here?”

She shook her head, “My dad’s from this town. I lived in America most of my life but decided to move here a few years back. My grandma left me the house when she died so that was a nice birthday gift.” She joked but I could tell it hurt.

“What part of America did you live in?”

“San Diego. Have you been?”

I raised my eyebrows, “I’ve only been to LA and San Francisco.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, “Oh, man. You have to go now! It’s really cool there.“

I put the wrapped book in my bag, “you said the restaurant. Um, did you want to join me? I mean, I’m sorry. I just don’t—“ I stumbled on my words, “sorry, I just don’t know anyone here and I would appreciate if you joined me.”

Esmeralda looked at me with a surprised expression for a millisecond before her usual face came back.

“Of course. Let me lock up.”

I wasn’t sure what possessed me to ask her to join me. I didn’t know her. It felt nice knowing that she was treating me normally, without feeling like I had to be RM. A leader. I felt like myself a little, whoever he was.

New chapter is up :)