#kmj

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.

This is a mumu blog for Turtle Bay!

Written by Stacie.

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