“Why don’t you try writing about love then?” a reporter, a young woman dares to ask and the whole conference room is suddenly stiff silent.

All pair of eyes is focused on the tall, nicely dressed man behind the microphone on the stage. The cameras around him are capturing his every movement, every slight change in his cold and stoic expression. The way his eyebrows shoot up hearing the question and the twitch of his lips that goes unnoticed by many. He doesn’t look amused one bit about the idea but he’s too proud to say no. Not if that meant to finally shut up everybody who says he’s an untalented, poor excuse of a writer who can only write in one genre.

“Sure. I will write the love story of the year. Or even better, the century. Would that be enough for you?” he blurts out recklessly, accepting the challenge without thinking and by the next day, his bold action has made to the front page of every available magazine and newspaper that cares about literature.

Korea’s best seller thriller writer, Kim Namjoon promises to write the love story of the century by the end of the year. Should we be ready for a story that makes us cry just like Titanic does?

Namjoon snorts when he reads the title and throws the paper away as he gulps down a sip of his black coffee before it could go cold. He likes the bitter taste on his tongue and the way it burns his throat as he shakes his head ever so slowly with that arrogant smile of his. It’s all because of that stupid, stupid journalist…

You, despite being cheated on, left heartbroken and turned down, still believe in love with all your might… or you could say: heart. You believe in its almighty power, that it should be enough during time of need and that there’s no more magnificent feeling above this. So Kim Namjoon may be one of your favourite writers, but when he spoke so negatively and sarcastically about love, something snapped in you. He said that love is a choice, merely a decision and the characters in romance novels are more often than not stupid to believe in such thing as fate and ’meant to be’. He said there’s no such thing that loving somebody more than yourself because people are greedy and selfish beings by nature. You, whose grandparents have been together for more than fifty years and whose best friend fell in love with a boy whose language she didn’t even speak that time, are an utterly hopeless romanticist so you couldn’t just stand it dead silent. However, you didn’t think that your words would leave any impact on the famous writer until you get a call from a man named Kim Taehyung, Kim Namjoon’s loyal manager slash personal assistant.

„Miss, it would be a pleasure if you could spend a lunch with Nam- I mean Mr. Kim so you could discuss further details about that uhm… little task of yours,” he says, voice surprisingly light and kind for something so deep, but a bit too eager.

„Oh. I didn’t think there was anything else to discuss. I didn’t mean to influence what Mr. Kim writes,” you protest flatly even though your heart is pounding so hard you are afraid it’s going to burst out of your chest and then everybody will know that you basically have a writer-crush on the thriller prodigy ever since you read his first book that he had written at the blooming age of seventeen. You still have the copy you got autographed at his first ever signing event.

He was the one who inspired you to follow your dreams and never give up. He’s the reason you are where you are today and not working in some closed office with numbers and sheets like your parents wanted you to. Becoming a reporter wasn’t a piece of cake, not at all, and if you wanted to be honest, you thought about quitting a few times, especially during your first job where you basically had nothing else to do than delivering coffee to senior reporters. But after years of hard work only as an assistant, not being able to write anything yourself, without having a say in anything, you finally got your first ever real task. For others, it may have been frivolous, only a press conference of a popular writer. But for you, it was perfect, it was like a dream coming true.

And you messed up. Big time. Why did you have to open that chatty mouth of yours? Why did you have to attract all the attention to yourself with that outrageous question? Ridiculous, you are going to get fired for this. Your boss said so: if they are getting sued for this, you are done for and that’s why you had to write a lengthy apologizing letter to Kim Namjoon practically begging him to spare you and your career. You worked hard to be where you are, and losing it over a stupid mistake would be too much.

“But Namjo- damnit, Mr. Kim wants you there,” the assistant insists in a hasty voice and you sigh.

“As a reporter or as a person?”

“That’s a good question, Miss, really good,” the man over the phone muses but it sounds more suggestive than it probably should.

Still, here you are, in the publishing company’s lobby with a coffee served by this smiley guy, Taehyung, waiting for the writer to appear on scene. You both anticipate and loathe this meeting because even though you are excited to see him privately, you know well that you stepped over the line last time and he’s probably not too happy about it.

So when you see him approaching in an attire much less formal than his suit at the press conference, you immediately stand up from your place on the cream coloured sofa.

“Mr. Kim…” you greet him a bit too zealously that earns you a cold stare and a sudden pause in the man’s rigid steps.

“Call me Namjoon,” he says firmly eyeing you up and down taking in your simple jeans and satin blouse you usually wear for workplace meetings. You weren’t sure what this was about at all but you didn’t want to be too casual nor too formal or fancy and thank god, you didn’t because Kim Namjoon looks like he could post his outfit on Instagram and call it aesthetic even if it’s just a plain white dress shirt with a brown jacket coat.

“I’m ah… okay,” you nod clearly uncertain but since the writer doesn’t seem bothered about it and just slumps into the armchair in front of you, you do the same as you sit back down on the comfortable sofa. It’s awkward, the cutting silence, so you decide to speak up immediately after Namjoon gets his cup of coffee in his hands courtesy of his assistant. “To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m here. I’m really sorry for challenging you on national tv, really, I can make a public apology for my mistake but…”

“It wouldn’t make a difference. Every critic, every hater, everybody wants to see me fail,” he interrupts your messy rambling quietly, borderline polite but still, that disinterest in his eyes and the uncomfortable twitch of his mouth makes it look rude. “So you will help me write a love story.”

It’s a clear statement with no questions asked, leaving no place for objections. You can only gape at him dumbstruck. He must be kidding you, right?

“Me?” you are looking around helplessly, searching for cameras or anybody who laughs at you. Why would Kim Namjoon want to write a love story with your help? Why would he need it at all anyway?

“Yes, you. You put me in this mess, now you have to help me fix it,” he says, voice firm, expression indifferent and it makes you realize in sheer panic that he really isn’t joking.

“Uhm… sorry but can’t you do it by yourself? I mean you are the best-seller novelist out of the two of us. Is it really that hard to write a love story? Haven’t you been in love?” you deadpan, feeling cornered and panicked.

And when Kim Namjoon, one of the nation’s most successful writers who conquered overseas markets with a flick of his hand, doesn’t say anything, only averts his eyes, it tells it all. Oh.

You’re still dumbfounded when you arrive back to the apartment that you share with your high school best friend. She’s sitting on the kitchen counter - something you often told her not to do - while eating ice cream and swaying her legs back and forth.

“How was the meeting with Mr. I’m Gonna Write The Love Story Of The Century?” she quirks up immediately as you step into the living room. Her remark makes you grimace bitterly.

“Don’t call him that,” you shake your head dismissively because it only reminds you that stupid question of yours that brought him and well, now also you, misery. You know you shouldn’t feel sorry for him, he brought this all to himself by being so arrogant and because his ego doesn’t allow him to let this go. But still, today you caught a glance of the person behind the writer exterior and you can’t unsee that now.

“What? Should I call him jerk instead?”

“Sooyoung!” you snap at her but your roommate only hops off the counter, flipping her hair and pointing the little spoon in her hand at you.

“No. I don’t like that everybody is calling you names just because you spoke the truth,” she says with that ever so fair-play supportive attitude of hers which you absolutely love in her. Just not in this case.

“It’s my fault, not his,” you look down at your feet knowing fully well, it wouldn’t have happened at all if you just kept your mouth shut. And Namjoon being man full of pride couldn’t say no.

“I know you have a writer-crush on him but please, don’t protect him on this,” Sooyoung pats your back sympathetically because she knows how much you adored the man’s works and wanted to be like him as much as a writer can dream of following the footsteps of their role model. Writing together with him would have been a dream a while ago, before you got him mad at you and saw this ever so bitter side of him.

“He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your protest is weak because well, yeah, Sooyoung is right: he could have been a bit nicer. That wouldn’t have hurt anybody, right?

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you,” Sooyoung hugs you shortly and offers the rest few spoonful of the ice cream.

“I know, thank you,” you smile at her with a grateful heart but dismiss her offer because there’s nothing you would like to do more than take a hot bath and forget about the pressuring questions of your boss that will come tomorrow.

After three days of radio silence, you naively think (hope) Namjoon realized how bad this idea was and forgot about you. It turns out you are dead wrong because one day while you are drinking your morning coffee you get a text from an unknown number: Be at the Hard Rock Café next to the publishing company at 9.

For a moment, you are confused, furrowing your eyebrows as questions pop up in your head about whos and whys. When realization hits you hard, your first thought is: Who the hell does he think he is?You have work, you can’t just drop everything you do as he said and help him on a mission you didn’t even agree on. Maybe it’s the reckless morning you angry at anybody who doesn’t let you finish that damn coffee but you call him on a whim.

“What?” Namjoon’s rough voice, deeper than you remember, greets you in a rather annoyed voice which is funny because it’s him who wants you to do a favour for him. But no, there’s no way you call in sick just to meet him.

“I can’t just go whenever you want. I work every day except the weekends. Or even then depending on the deadlines. So you can’t just expect me to-”

“I know. My agency has already talked to yours about your new work schedule, so now you work ten hours a week with me. Ask your boss if you don’t believe me. And be in the Café on time. I hate those who are late,” the writer said simply and hung up before you could even reply. You save his contact in your phone as The Almighty Kim Namjoon.

It only takes a call with your superior to accept that everything Namjoon said was true and even if you didn’t like it, you don’t have much say in it, you have to help him because now your job is on the line too. Great.

Working with Namjoon turns out to be fairly interesting and thought-provoking since it’s basically brainstorming from day one.

“Okay so what kind of love people are obsessed about these days?” he asks opening his macbook in front of him, ready to type but stops so he can look up at you expectantly. “We had the forbidden one, the possessive one so what should be the next best thing?”

“If I knew, don’t you think I have already written it?” you quirk an eyebrow at him rather annoyed. You are not a fortune teller for god’s sake.

“You are not a writer,” he scoffs which is quite demeaning since he probably knows you have a degree in journalism and creative writing so he must know you had written plenty back in university. Sure you haven’t published anything but that doesn’t make you less of a writer.

“Excuse me. I can write,” you argue but that’s not even the point of your previous statement. Speaking of which, you still don’t know what he expects of you to do or say. You can’t write a story instead of him, that’s absolutely not fair and basically cheating.

“Sure,” Namjoon raises a doubtful eyebrow at you- He didn’t get a university degree for writing and like most people, he thinks that paper is just a piece of garbage no matter how many hours of suffering you went through just to get it. No, he doesn’t need you because of that and he says so directly, without leading you on. “The reason why you are here is because you are a girl and you can help me gain a wider female audience.”

You can only gape at him sipping oh so casually on his coffee in peace, totally unbothered. Looking at this man you wonder if he really is the one who wrote a few of your favourite books full of amazing plot twists and character developments.

“It’s ist of you to think that women understand romance more than men.”

"Not if I know that no matter what kind of love story I write, it will mostly be read by women,” the writer shoots you a stern glance, silently asking how you dare to accuse him of something like that. His tone is calm, a bit authoritative as he continues on: “Let me rephrase the question: what kind of love story would you read? Please don’t say something cliché.”

You scoff at him, fingers playing with the coffee strained edge of your mug. With a heavy sigh, knowing you can’t escape if you would like to keep your job, you let all your thoughts out:

"I don’t know. It just should be unique, you know? One that leaves me with the feeling that damn I wanna go back in time just to savour reading it for the first time again,” your mouth curves into a soft smile thinking back of the plausible feeling in your chest after reading a really good story. Namjoon hums beside you, taking notes and urging you to keep going. So you do. "Definitely no Mary Sues, no jerks, no cringeworthy dialogues and overdramatic confessions. It’s time to be real again. I just want two, complex characters who deal with on their own and I want them together not because they aren’t complete alone but because they inspire each other to become a better version of themselves.”

It’s only your last sentence that puzzles the man, drawing him on to stop typing and look up at you with unsaid questions in his eyes.

“Sure… thanks for your input,” he nods acting sarcastic for no good reason, an irritating habit that makes you roll your eyes at him.

"You asked for it.” That’s all you will get. Take it or leave it.

"Yes, but you live in your own little ideal world. There’s no such thing as becoming better because of another person. People are only capable of breaking and destroying everything they touch.”

The words leave Namjoon’s mouth hastily as if he said them on the whim, hurriedly. Something dark and sad like sorrow flashes through his eyes and an invisible hand clenching around your heart.

“What made you so bitter?” you wonder out loud, musing on the thought who might have been the one to break him so much.

Even if he’s still in denial.

“It’s called being realistic, thank you so much.” is all he says and suddenly, he’s back at being stoic and unreadable, brows unraised, mouth pressed together in a firm line. A closed book.

Next time he comes up with suggestions, something you are grateful for because at least he doesn’t want you to do all the work. He’s equally interested, just in need of another perspective to see his options better. His editor and agency is specialized for dark themes so they don’t really have a say in romantic matters. As much as you gathered, they gave Namjoon a free hand in this new book as long as it’s finished by the end of the year. So much trust in an artist who has been under their wings for only five years but with seven bestsellers. Kim Namjoon, being only twenty-three isn’t a big deal for nothing. He’s stunningly talented when it comes to writing thrillers about crimes and murder. But love stories? Not so much.

"Okay so what about a single parent meeting their childhood sweetheart?”

“Ah no, you don’t want to be Nicholas Sparks but Kim Namjoon, right?” you sigh deeply after his nth idea that has been written multiple times already. You couldn’t blame him since he doesn’t read romance books, so how would he know? But you understand his frustration too. It feels like everything has been written already. He needs something new, even controversial just to attract the attention of public. “Stick to something you know. I don’t know. Take a writer with a writer’s block. You know those, right? Give him a muse and of course, a conflict.”

Namjoon grimaces, clearly not approving the idea.

“If I was writing about writers, it would be about heartbreak, not love,” he comments dryly. He’s like sand slipping through your fingers, you feel like you can never completely get him and see what’s under the surface. Heartbreak? Didn’t he say he hadn’t been in love?.

“That’s better than nothing,” you shrug.

“What about a serial killer going after the couple?” he suggests and Nora Roberts comes to your mind immediately. After you read a few of her books, you can predict the big plot twists in all the others.

“Not so original but it can work,” you purse your mouth together. After all, with Namjoon’s skills for great mystery dramaturg, he can make it special.

“An obsessive fan of an involved party?”

“Same,” you declare the judgement based on your knowledge about real person fiction that you still remember from your fanfiction reader years.

"Got it! Historical setting!” Namjoon beams at you, eyes shining with a hint of hope but you gotta break that.

“Ever heard of Shakespeare in love?”

That’s when Namjoon decides he had enough and shuts his notebook with a heavy sigh.

“Love stories are clichés,” he mumbles as if it was an accusation, a death sentence. You can’t really provide anything more helpful than a useless advice as you stand up from your table.

"Maybe. Write one that isn’t.”

It’s a challenge, one that you really mean this time because you know he can’t back off and he will try his best.

The words just don’t come out. They are stuck in his throat choking him but he can’t put them into sentences, let alone dialogues and descriptions. Staring at the blank page and the cursor at the end of the month, Namjoon knows he is screwed.

He sips on his third coffee for that day, getting more bitter and bitter with every mug. He loves planning every detail ahead, drafting out the story before writing, making storyboards and character cards but he had thrown out everything he had for this project because he hated it. So now he decides to take drastic measures and turn it upside down. He takes a deep breath and starts writing. Without thinking, he writes down everything that comes to his mind.

He starts with: ‘He thought love was a stupid thing to do but maybe, actually he was the stupid one falling for her.’

The problem is that he doesn’t know how to end it.

What it takes to mend a broken heart is definitely a too long title. Even if his editor once told him that there is no such thing as a ‘too long title’. But for the draft, it’s okay he decides and sends the file to you along with a small note: ‘Read it over and I want a page long constructive criticism. Be honest.’

You groan out loud from frustration when you get his email for your work address. He wants a freaking analysing essay or what? Are you in university again?

“What? Is it the writer again?” Sooyoung looks up from her cereal and fishes the phone out of your hands when you don’t answer. She reads over the short message in a heartbeat and snorts loudly. “Did his mother hate him that much or why is he acting like that?”

You don’t even bother to look at her. Her opinion doesn’t help at all to keep your cool in this situation and you can’t let yourself getting worked up because of this. You have to be professional about this, both for Namjoon and to keep your job.

When you don’t answer, your roommate sighs.

“Okay I get it. I won’t meddle in your business. But don’t let him boss you around,” she grimaces knowing for a fact because of your college years that you tend to take everything to heart and you give your all in every group project even if the group’s other members didn’t give a about getting a good grade. She knows you will take it really seriously and do everything that arrogant writer asks of you, so her worrying is like a mother’s embrace and you would welcome it with open arms on a rainy day but now she doesn’t know the whole story. She doesn’t know how hard Namjoon is trying to prove his talent to everybody but mainly to himself. It’s like self-validation, an essential thing for every artist. Because if he didn’t believe in his own works’ worth then who else would?

So no, it wasn’t his request that took you aback but the attached document and its length. Has he really written it all in the last few days since you met? All these pages full of prose and stretched-out dialogue lines? Did inspiration hit him in the head or what? Or he had always been such a flourishing writer, typing out thousands of words per day?

You open the document in awe, lie down on your sofa with a notepad and pen in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, ready to read and criticize. But soon, you get lost in the magic of words and the whirling feelings thrown at you. You become so invested in the love story of a deaf painter and a musician that you forget everything else.

"I would buy it.” is the first thing you tell Namjoon when you meet up at the next scheduled time for discussion and maybe this is the best kind of compliment he could ever get from you. You told him to write about something he knows and he took your advice. Writing about artists and the way they worked came easy and natural to him. However, before the satisfied smile could spread all over his face, making you weak with its dimples, you add the downside of your opinion: “But you don’t have to be cheesy and poetic to write romance. Your readers don’t like you for that.”

You are just being genuine but the writer appreciates your honesty and takes it into consideration with a hum.

“Like you?” he raises an eyebrow almost challengingly and your fingers freeze on the paper cup in your hand.

“What?” It’s a bit silly after everything to pretend to be oblivious but it’s worth a shot. But the knowing look Namjoon has, turns you into a blushing mess and casting down your eyes, you bite into your lower lip bashfully. Busted.

“I noticed you are familiar with my works so you must be my fan, right? What do you love about my writing?” he asks lightly, no pressure, no force only with a hint of curiosity and this time you don’t even try to deny it. There’s nothing shameful in admitting that you admire his writing skills.

“Your characters are so real, so human with mistakes, lies and flaws,” you tell him without a second thought. Despite his genius mind creating close to perfect crimes and one hell of plot twists, this is what got you, especially in this excerpt from his upcoming romance novel, it’s admirable how well he shapes even the most simple person. “And you are still doing amazing concerning that so what I am saying is that you can keep your neat style, you don’t have to be overly flowery for women readers to like you.”

At that, you watch with a sly smile as the tension from Namjoon’s shoulders go slack in relief. You have no idea where the heck he got this absurd idea. The writing style doesn’t make the genre, the story itself does. And you would bet that deep down he knows that too. Otherwise he wouldn’t have written such a heart-clenching beginning for a love story. One that captures the raw human feelings so well you can’t help but wonder:

“Have you really never been in love?” you blurt out the question recklessly because someone who understands heartbreak and the pain of loving somebody who will never love you back, like he portrayed in the excerpt, must have been in love. Well, according to you at least. But earlier you were so sure he had no experience in that field and he didn’t deny it then.

Now his approach is tentative as he avoids looking you in the eyes. “How do you define love?”

His question takes you aback a bit.

“Shouldn’t you know? You are the writer after all. Your kind writes sonnets about it,” you deadpan refusing to explain something like that to him. Love takes different shape for everybody, its meaning varies with time and depends on the involved parties.

“Like I said at my press conference, I think love is a society-made construct that encourages us to engage in social events and making sacrifices for each other,” Namjoon recites as if it was a theorem he knew by heart.

“I didn’t ask that,” you scoff at his sarcastic approach and wonder if he would be able to write romance for real.

But it’s not that he hasn’t been in love like you implied, annoyingly so. It’s the opposite actually. He quite burnt himself letting himself feel these feelings. But was it really love? He thought it was, but she didn’t love him, she said so but she made him believe all those lies from before too. What is real and what is not, he hasn’t cared since. He won’t be stupid enough to fall for it again.

“You act like such a know-it-all for a hopeless romantic,” he shakes his head at your reaction standing up to leave but you are not letting him get away without hearing your opinion.

“I am not. I just think it’s a beautiful thing to selflessly care for somebody and cherish them without thriving for personal gain.”

“Beautiful, huh? Even when they stab you in the back?” Namjoon turns back, raising his voice like he never did before and lets out an exasperated sigh. “That’s just stupid, making yourself vulnerable for others.”

“It sounds like you don’t trust people at all,” you whisper searching for his eyes, the feelings behind them but he doesn’t look at you. Who hurt you like this? you want to ask, the words burning on your tongue but your throat is tight and your heart swells with sympathy towards the man.

“I learnt not to.”

That’s all he says and something in you breaks seeing his restraints:

“Bruh-bruh, you had your heart broken so what? Who hasn’t? You can be bitter about it all you want but calling people who believe in love stupid is just rude.”

“You know nothing. She took everything from me, from the boy with dreams who I was. But she gave me everything to become this person and believe me, I hate her for it,” he finally snaps stepping in front of you and you can’t help but flinch. Not because you are afraid he would hurt you. You know he isn’t an aggressive person but his sudden closeness and the fire in his eyes intimidate you for a second.

Like a river breaking embankment, words keep flowing from him endlessly, a confession he never knew he needed to get off his chest thrown out in the wild:

“She started modelling when I was just an aspiring writer struggling with getting my second book done. The first one sold okay but it wasn’t enough for the agency. That’s when I met her and she became my muse. We supported each other in everything but when she got better and better jobs, travelling all around the world while I was still a jobless fool, she left. When we broke, she told me she didn’t love me, just thought I could make it big and help her. She said I was a disappointment. So yeah I know from experience people do stupid in the name of so-called love. She didn’t just break my ing heart but ripped it into tiny shreds and yet, here I am writing pieces of her in my works still. My hatred towards her was the main inspiration for the Chains for a Calico Cat.”

You gasp for air when he mentions the book that brought him success. You mull over what he said for a good minute, about how hard it must have been for him to know that she was still his muse after everything, that out of all people, she made him famous.

For once, Namjoon keeps eye contact and his intense gaze rests on your form. A few weeks ago, it would have made you bashful and stumbling over your works. But now, you stand before him with your chin high and confident. When he sees you aren’t backing off, he takes a step back. Unsure and unbalanced, mortified because of his impulsive outburst and revealing this weak side of him.

You are quick to soothe his nerves, to ensure him that you won’t take advantage of his confession, instead you are throwing in your own two pennies:

“I was in love with this boy ever since high school. I was over the moon when he took me to dance and kissed me under the mistletoe. We moved together during college, so foolishly naive like any young love but then, I thought it was perfect and for ever,” you smiled fondly at the memories of butterflies in your stomach, excitement before dates and the soft feeling of being wanted. But it wasn’t meant to last. Just like your smile disappearing dropping from your lips. “Until I found out he was cheating on me. He told me he loved me but he loved her too but I think he loved himself the most because if he really loved us he would have been honest and fair with us. It took some time but I moved on because I know one bad experience doesn’t make love a bad thing.”

You don’t want to make yourself look like a know-it-all. Of course, you aren’t one, just another floating leaf in the wind waiting to settle down. Namjoon still seems unconvinced but you are okay with that. People can have their own opinions and beliefs. However, what he’s doing is self-destroying and he should know it.

"You know there’s this quote about flowers that can bloom even after the coldest winters. You can do that too,” you add in a soft voice tentatively touching the man’s stiff shoulders.

You can move on and love again, is what you are saying and you are actually surprised Namjoon doesn’t shrug off your hand. He only snorts but there’s no contempt in his eyes, just disbelief. Oh the forever pessimist!

“Have you ever wondered why I asked you that question?” you blurt out remembering that fateful moment.

“If not to challenge me, I don’t know,” the writer stares at you curiously and you have to bite back a shy smile. Now, he’s like an open book made for you to read.

‘In all your stories love was a weakness, it made people stupid, act silly just to get burnt in the end. You haven’t portrayed two people selflessly loving each other before. I’ve always wondered why,” you admit, your voice is strained with gratitude because he trusted you enough to open up about it.

I didn’t think it was possible, he wants to say but can’t. Not yet, but it’s okay because you will always wait for him.

Months pass, writer’s block comes and goes, papers and drafts flying around in his room, you and your colourful highlighters being there becomes a normal sight overnight. At one point you get a key for his apartment and you welcome him with coffee in the morning and bring him food to remind him about the importance of eating even when he’s in the zone. You bring your notebook with you so you can work from ‘home-office’ and give him advice when he asks for one. You get to know his assistant slash manager, Taehyung better and get along well with his cheerful editor, Hoseok who even suggests you to think about changing profession because of your natural talent for editing Namjoon’s new novel.

Sometimes when the writer can’t take it anymore, the pressure, the deadline, when he hates this beautiful story he’s writing, you take him out to eat or you just to watch a movie on his couch together. You remind him to call his mother on her birthday but he gets flowers for yours without you ever saying a thing. (Sooyoung doesn’t believe you when you tell her there’s nothing going on between you since then.) Sometimes you cook for him before he could burn down the house and he offers to tutor your small cousin in math just because he used to be good at it and doesn’t mind. You talk about books, feminist culture and Nietzsche for endless hours yet you still argue a whole lot about romance.

You are somewhat friends by the time his book, To mend a broken heart, have made it to the shelves. Critics and fans both anticipate it well. On the press conference there’s a queue so long he has never seen before and you have to elbow your way through the mass of people to get into the venue with the help of Taehyung.

“Glad you could make it!” he beams at you like he always does.

“Yeah. Wow that’s a lot of people,” you gape at the venue slowly filled with people. You are lucky they saved you a VIP seat. You’ll have an exclusive interview with Namjoon after all.

“Thanks to you and your little challenge,” Taehyung winks at you but you wave off the praise. You aren’t worthy of it. Namjoon was right: you are not a writer, you could have never made it possible. But he did.

“Oh no, it was all Namjoon.”

Taehyung looks at you fondly, patting your arm lightly. His giggles sound like bubbles in water.

“Honey, he would have laughed it off if he didn’t find it intriguing. But what really helped him make it into reality is that you were with him this year. I haven’t seen him smile that much and outside in a long time…”

“I hope Taehyung didn’t just tell you about that time I almost fainted before an event like that,” Namjoon walks up to you two, chipping in your little chat. He wears an elegant black tuxedo, bringing his usual chic Instagram-look but by the way he’s nipping on his lips, you know he’s nervous.

“Ah nothing like that but did you really?” you a bit, having a hard time imagining him thatanxious.

“It was a long time ago,” he brushes off the topic, looking over the crowd. Taehyung excuses himself with a knowing smile and when only the two of you stand there by the stage, you ask cheekily:

“How does it feel? To have a romance book published that’s already close to sold out because of the pre-orders?”

“Ah I will stick to thrillers,” he shrugs and you laugh.

He doesn’t say anything about how hard it is for him to write about feelings but you know it anyway. With your soft and kind smiles you are nothing but supporting and he thinks he’s lucky to have you by his side. Maybe one day he will be brave enough to pursue anything more than this. But for now, he’s content with being just friends, to see you smile, to hear you laugh and argue about the difference between romanticism and realism.

Stubborn he was about it but now he knows good enough to end his book with the realization: maybe love is just like any other art; purposeless until somebody understands.