2.10


If someone, a few years later, asked him to explain the meaning of madness, he wouldn't use words, but he would indicate without hesitation an exact time and place. He would say that madness wasn't a state of mind but that it was being seventeen years old and under the bleak roof of the Kim mansion.

That house had finally crept in his heart and Namjoon had become a part of those same suffocating walls, a victim, and yet also a support of that prison. Although he had racked his brain, retracing the logic of the system - again and again – in search of the little light that could indicate a way out, Namjoon had to admit defeat.

He couldn't escape his fate because his role had been conceived and planned for years by far more experienced and shrewd hands than his own. His trip to the laboratory had no other purpose than to make clear to him the gravity of the horror as well as the inevitability of his destiny - whatever that meant now anyways .

There weren't any gates in his golden prison, but only corridors to walk down. Yet, in spite of the violence his rebellious spirit was subjected to (Namjoon had always been proud of the free discernment of his intellect), the truth that he knew was ten thousand times more complex than the one that had been thrown on him. The truth that he knew whispered that there was no need of any lock on his door because he would never try to pave a way out, not without Jin.

Despite every molecule in his body screaming against the Kims, those same molecules were the ones that had attached themselves to Seokjin.

Seokjin was different, it had been evident from the beginning, and even when, after their first encounter, Namjoon hadn't fallen in the typical fervor of soulmate enamourment, it was impossible to deny how Seokjin shone with his own light. When the older told him how he had loved him since the beginning, Namjoon had been shocked to learn this, not only because he had no merit in eliciting this feeling, but especially because Seokjin had sounded sincere.

But wasn't there affection written in every little gesture Seokjin had done for him? In the infinite patience he had always shown him? How much of that patience was aroused by real feelings and how much from knowing Namjoon could possibly be excused in his reluctance? There was a real possibility that Seokjin's feelings had been aroused by expectations based on false premises or, worse, by the duties imposed by his position.

These were eventualities which made his waking and sleepy moments restless, and took his breath away whenever his mind lingered on it for too long. Namjoon didn't have false premises, he hadn't made calculations of any kind when he decided that Seokjin was important. His feelings, from beginning to end, were born only because of the person who Jin was, and not for what he should have been.

Namjoon wondered if every first love should feel like this, as if he were about to spread his wings and at the same time as if he were about to crumble to the ground.

It was terrible to have so much inside and not being able to express it in any way, not even in the scattered disorder of his texts because the fear of damaging some truths could cause was too great. Namjoon, however, had always been a poor poker player, his involuntary way of stretching his jaw a striking clue to his disappointment.

He had never been able to tell credible lies to his mother when he got into trouble and not even to his teachers when he forgot to do his homework, so he logically ended up concluding that it was better being honest than risking to dig his own grave with his carelessness. Yet it was hard to unlearn a habit that he had nurtured proudly for years so his hidden desires which were eating him from the inside, despite all his efforts in trying to silence the truth in the safety of his skull box, found their way to pour out of him. It seemed like they were playing him dirty on purpose as if to underline the ridiculousness of the paradox he was experiencing.

And the most embarrassing thing was that the more uncertain everything was, the stronger was his dependence on Jin.

So Namjoon dragged himself in search of Seokjin like a sleepwalker trying to find his way back to the bed. Stumbling upon his own feet, but with determination, he looked for Jin and the warmth of his body, the sense of safety he felt in his familiar smell as if he were a newborn in the arms of their mother.

So he was the seventeen-year-old Kim Namjoon, a brilliant student of the economics faculty, the number one of the Kim's heirs and therefore destined for a great future. He was Namjoon, in his tie knotted to perfection during the meetings and parties he was forced to attend because of his status. He was Namjoon who exudes charisma on the stage of a smoke-filled pub in the suburbs at the rhythm of a pulsing bass.

But he was also that Namjoon who tiptoed into Jin's room, slipped into his bed and fell asleep by his side, careful not to wake him but trying to steal a bit of that warmth. It was the only thing that seemed to be able to reconcile his sleep and extinguish the fire in his brain.

"Namjoon, wake up. Namjoon," Namjoon didn't even emit a grumble but sank further under the covers.

"We cannot be late," Seokjin's voice whispered next to his ear as gentle fingers brushed his hair off his forehead.

Namjoon squeezed his eyes tight and then inevitably opened them because he knew he couldn't delay any further. His sleepy gaze focused on Seokjin's face, which was much closer than he had imagined. Namjoon had to force himself not to move any muscle and possibly not doing something stupid like backing away.

Seokjin hadn't said anything about it. He had made no comment on the silences that increasingly blossomed between them and the new discrepancies that were visible in their relationship. And he hadn't said anything about this new nocturne habit either. Namjoon liked to delude himself into believing Seokjin found it a natural progression of their relationship.

Instead, he suspected that behind the long glances that Seokjin kept throwing at him, there were many questions that the older didn't have the courage to ask him. After all, Seokjin wasn’t dumb, he could put two and two together, he saw him leave with his father all in one piece and returning the next day like the shell of himself. If there was someone who not only knew but understood the effect the Kim's expectations had on an individual, this was Seokjin.

Namjoon wondered how much, of all that had been revealed to him, Seokjin knew and if so, how he was able to keep standing, but also to maintain his sanity in the face of such cumbersome truth.

"I'm getting up," Namjoon sighed before rolling on his side and rising on his feet. The abrupt movement made him feel disoriented for a moment , but even so, nothing could dispel that sense of deep weariness that had penetrated his bones since that fateful day.

Namjoon glanced around in an attempt to get some lucidity back. Seokjin had just gotten up and had his back turned at him, apparently busy arranging some papers on his desk. He was already fully dressed and his shoulders looked stiff in his brand new shirt.

Namjoon knew that Seokjin was just trying to give him space. The possibility of weaseling in the bathroom without having to explain the reason for this new need, perhaps. It would have been normal for two soul mates to sleep side by side if it hadn't been that their relationship had been dysfunctional from the beginning. Moreover, the closeness that they had so painstakingly built after they had decided to come out into the open, was fragile and not talking could definitely compromise the little progress they had made.

Namjoon knew it was his fault that he was folding on himself but he was doing it only in order to survive. He also knew that this time Seokjin was more hesitant at the idea of leaping over yet another wall. Namjoon couldn't exactly blame him.

"Will you be at the rehearsal tonight?" Seokjin asked him as Namjoon rubbed his eyes.

"Luckily not. That speech is up to you," Namjoon said stretching.

That weekend, Seokjin was supposed to hold a speech at the new headquarters for the Academy of  Arts built with the money the state had managed to save from the disinvestment in the vigilance body. It was yet another opportunity to reiterate how the system was the determining factor of the increasingly declining crime rate. Namjoon would have liked to laugh considering how nobody talked instead about those funds diverted to thicken the ranks of the military body or the increasing rate of suicides.

"Yeah," Seokjin said with a deep sigh, his shoulders lowered in resignation. For a moment he had the terrible temptation to let go and confess everything. Ask Jin everything he wanted to ask, let the other enter his head and browse through his horrible thoughts in the hope that it could help to dispel the stifling fog. Perhaps by sharing their fears, they could somehow fix everything and find a solution.

"Well, at least that way you can relax. If you go see Yoongi say hi to him for me," Seokjin commented perhaps a little too blatantly enthusiastically.

Namjoon stiffened and saw the panic spread on Seokjin's face when he realized he had made the wrong observation.

Namjoon felt a twinge of guilt because Seokjin could not imagine that part of the truth, but Namjoon doubted he would ever find the courage to tell that part to anyone.

"Sure. I'll go to the bathroom now. Wait for me in the kitchen, I'll be quick," Namjoon said hurriedly before disappearing into the bathroom at the speed of the light.

So much effort and so much time together and then one day was enough to get them ten thousand steps back.

He had no choice but to use these methods to try and handle the emotional meltdown that was boiling beneath the surface. It would take just a little, very little effort for Namjoon to lose control and make the others notice how his wall was made of paper and that a jolt would have been enough to make everything collapse and he could not afford that, not when what it could come out of him could wound so many people.

So he had to teach himself to resist even if it meant to put some distance between him and the people he loved for a while.

Namjoon washed and settled quickly, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. He didn't believe he could look at himself in the face.


The character Namjoon had carved out at the economics department was light years away from who Namjoon really was. For his classmates, he was the brilliant young man who had demolished all the exams of the first year and started the ones of the second year in the record time of six months. For them, he was the soulmate of the heir to the consular title, Kim Seokjin. In short, someone who was expected to stand out from the regular student mass. Namjoon grieved the fact that it had happened for the wrong reasons.

Personally, he had never wanted fame. When as a child he had hoped to pursue an artistic career, his most pressing desire had been for his composed songs to reach as many people as possible but only for the intrinsic deep pleasure he gained by knowing that his emotions were shared. Logically, he knew that the greater the number, the more exposure he would have to bear, but fame and popularity would be consequences, not a goal.

In the naivety of his youthful dreams, he had only thought of the recognition that came from fame and not of the weight that came from it. The kind of fame he had once imagined for himself was very different from the one that came from being a Kim - greedy glances roving on him and voices whispering in the corridors at his every step.

The worst was realizing that all that attention wasn't only unpleasant but also empty. Furthermore, it helped to create the unwanted image of an unapproachable person since everyone was afraid to speak to him unless it was about academic subjects or something equally formal or boring. The result was that Namjoon had never felt so lonely and never so out of his skin even during the most mundane tasks like walking or simply finding a spot to sit in a class.

Namjoon awkwardly the non-existent creases of his shirt when he got up from his seat by the end of the lesson, trying to ignore the stares when he crossed the room and when he hurried down the corridors to get out of the building.

He didn't know if Seokjin would be at the canteen for lunch. He had a long speech to memorize as the entourage of the first consul seemed to have all the intention to turn that stupid event, in a sort of mini election campaign. Which would have been ridiculous, considering that the concept of democratic elections was something that could only be read in history books, if it hadn't been that Namjoon knew by now how defective the system was and hence how it was very needed a continued and aggressive propaganda that bordered on mass brainwashing.

Yet when he finally was able to get out of that claustrophobic environment he barely had time to recover for a few moments, fresh air that like a balsam entered his lungs, that he found himself, once again, in an uncomfortable situation. A few steps away from him, sitting on the steps of the building, was Yoongi.

Who, as if he had been warned by some invisible presence, turned at the same time that Namjoon materialized on top of the stairs.

"You're here," Namjoon murmured a little dazed as he approached his best friend with slow and careful steps.

"Sometimes even the mountains have to move," Yoongi said, his tone of voice devoid of any special inflection. Yoongi should have been angry or at least annoyed by the treatment Namjoon had reserved him. But Yoongi had always understood the necessity of distance and silence because he himself was a consumer of both. Yet the fact that he was there, that he had moved instead of waiting, was a signal of how serious the situation had become. How much Namjoon was acting out his usual box.

"Come on, let's go grab something to eat. I feel like I haven't seen you in a century, "Yoongi continued before getting up and descending the few steps. Namjoon sighed before following him.

They ordered some sandwiches in a cafeteria near the campus and during almost the entire meal, with the exception of the few words said to order, they did not speak at all. Yoongi looked tired and still wore the signs of that profound sadness that had taken hold of him since the day of his introduction. But he was alert and much attentive than the last time they'd seen each other, and his black eyes peered at Namjoon's face in search of clues. However, it was only by the time their coffees were served that the older finally decided to uncover his cards.

Yoongi looked around with a look that hopped from one point of the room to the other as if he was gathering his thoughts, or the courage, to be able to speak his mind. Then his eyes finally landed on him.

"You aren't sending me lyrics lately, let alone any new composed song. We see each other even less,  but this last thing is my fault too, among my mess and my new activities I know I left little room for anything else. But until proven otherwise I thought I was the one who had ruined his life with his own hands. Not you. Maybe you've never been enthusiastic about the Kims but I was convinced your relationship with Seokjin was good. I was almost envious of how well you went along with your soul mate, of your happy ending. But then you broke into my house and I didn't ask you anything, but I know what I saw and still I waited for you to talk about it or, if you wanted to solve the thing by yourself, I waited for you to do it. But this did not happen and the expression on your face is a confirmation. So...what the hell happened to you, Namjoon?"

Namjoon was so surprised by Yoongi's words that he choked on his coffee and Yoongi had to pat vigorously his back to help him recover.

"It could be said that all that glitters is not gold," Namjoon spat out once he was able to talk. Those were very insufficient words to try to explain the whole matter. Not only that, they were ridiculous. But what could he have ever said to Yoongi, except that he wished he had never known anything? Yoongi skeptically arching his eyebrow in response to his words.

"I couldn't tell you a thing even if I wanted, Yoongi. State secrecy," Namjoon said justifying himself but mostly attempting to buy time.

"You cannot think of getting away like that, Joon. And I'm not saying this for myself, but for you. Whatever has happened is eating you from the inside and believe me, I have a lot of experience with this kind of things," Yoongi said ruefully.

"I'm not using high-sounding words just to avoid talking about it. There's really nothing to talk about," Namjoon lied through his teeth. Yoongi should have never known of the existence of that document stored somewhere in a drawer of the laboratory. Never.

"Stop telling me lies, the good liar among us is me, not you. C'mon, speak your mind, you feel better after," Yoongi insisted.

"You don't even believe your own words," Namjoon retorted on the defensive. Yoongi gave him a piercing glance and Namjoon knew his lies had the seconds counted. He immediately perceived the change of mood.

"Yes, you are right. Something that is hurting you so deeply will continue to hurt you until it has exhausted its course, but continuing to lie is an unnecessary additional suffering. I thought the smart one among us was you," Yoongi said. "You won't feel better, no. And I will probably never understand your choices in the same way you won't understand mines. But talking it will help you feel less isolated in your personal hell."

Yoongi was offering him the opportunity to remove the first brick of his wall made of paper and Namjoon wanted so much to do it. He could never bring down the wall, not yet, but at least a little bit of what was torturing him, at least a little, he hoped he had the right to say.

"What do you want to know Yoongi? That I hate my new life? Yes, I hate it with all my might as much as I hate living under that roof that now I have to call home. I hate their damn rules, I hate their damn way of life and I hate that everything has already been decided for me way before I even stepped inside that house. But above all, I hate the fact that I have no choice and I can't follow the path I had dreamed of doing since I was a child. I would give anything to be anyone else. Anyone. Except for being myself." Namjoon confessed with all the honesty of his heart. They were things he had always thought, things he had buried in a dark corner of his mind and had poisoned him from the inside slowly but inexorably. Yet his tone was detached, cold, as if he were commenting on someone else's life and not his own.

Pure disconcert was the emotion he saw painted on his friend's face when he finally looked up from his empty cup.

"You never told me anything," Yoongi said trying to control his tone to not weigh on Namjoon with his shock.

"It would have made no difference," Namjoon replied, looking away. "Or maybe I just kept my head buried in the sand until now."

"But you don't hate Jin," Yoongi added after a long silence. It was not a question. It was not a question at all.

"No. I could never. He is important. And maybe that's the problem," Namjoon admitted, a bitter smile that made its way onto his face. The same that adorned Yoongi's lips.

"There's space, right? It seems impossible but there's plenty of space to feel everything."

Ah. Only then did Namjoon realized how much he had missed being able to confide in a friend. To share.

Their problems were different, as were their responsibilities in their own matters, but Yoongi certainly knew what it meant to live with a soul split and if this was the pain he had carried all along

it was difficult to understand how Yoongi managed to appear as a whole person. But then again, he wondered how he himself hadn't come out screaming from the Kim villa.

Yoongi didn't tell him it would get any better and neither gave him empty words of comfort. Instead, he stood there, seated in front of him, with a heart equally in pieces but willing to share his drama in silence.

They both knew that moment of truth was little consolation and that yes, Namjoon wouldn't feel better or even remotely less troubled (he doubted anything would ever be able to give him some sort of relief). However, Namjoon wanted to believe that confessing at least a part of his fears could give him the determination he needed to get by.

They left the cafeteria shortly after. Yoongi insisted to do a stretch of road together, walking him till the entrance of his classroom as if he wanted to make sure that Namjoon would make it safely.
Namjoon thought with nostalgia of those times when everything was simple, back then when Yoongi and him hid in that back and shady little room behind the pub to rehearse their musical repertoire over and over again. Back then when a bright future appeared possible.

Namjoon adjusted his shoulder strap over his shoulder and after greeting Yoongi with a nod, went back to the classroom, for another round of routine.


It was a Saturday morning.

Seokjin had disappeared, followed by the staff of the consul, sometime mid-morning while Namjoon had remained behind in the Kim mansion. He would have preferred to go directly with him and, judging by Jin's upset face, he too had been of the same opinion. But hoping that someone in that house would actually comply with their wishes it was like asking for the first consul Kim to be a genuine man.

Namjoon decided then to get himself distracted and spend those few free hours in the library. He doubted he would be allowed to leave and get out and he didn't want to dive into something more demanding than a book reading.

However, his hope of being able to have a moment for himself and relax, before being launched into the fray too soon, turned out to be in vain. Everyone in the Kim house seemed to have agreed to make his life more difficult.

The mother of Seokjin, who until then hadn't addressed him with more than a few cloying words of courtesy, materialized on the threshold of the library with the air of having something more to say than a greeting. Namjoon had to blink several times because he really couldn't find a reason why Mrs. Kim could be there. Though he was grateful to her for not being as remotely disturbing as Mr. Kim, he had always thought of her as a decorative figure in the family's life.

"Namjoon. I'm sorry to interrupt your activities. I was hoping you could dedicate a moment of your time to me. I've been waiting for the chance to talk to you for a  very long time."

Namjoon obviously didn't understand what she meant with those words but he found himself nodding nonetheless. She had too kind and graceful manners for him, or anyone else, to be able to be purposely rude with her.

Mrs. Kim smiled for all the few steps it took her to reach his spot, she moved the chair next to him and sat gracefully at the table where the book he was reading had just being abandoned. It immediately struck him how that image reminded him of the way Jin sat beside him and leaned out from his chair to spy on his book, just in the same way Mrs.Kim was looking at him now, with that air around of doing things that it was impossible to resist.

Namjoon deduced that the charm was an element that he had inherited from his mother.

"You and I never really talked, didn't we? It was no coincidence Namjoon, but do not think, even for a moment, that I forgot about you. There are many things in our family and in our lifestyle that I wanted to talk to you about that, however, would have sounded incomprehensible to you if we had talked about them from the beginning. Now you've lived here for more than a year, I saw a previous lost and inexperienced child grow into the resolute and more aware person I see now. I know you still have a long way ahead of you and I also know that it won't be an easy path to follow through. However, I was the consort of the first consul long before you were and I would like to help you with my experience. Your soulmate will become the first consul and his tasks will be very difficult and burdensome. It will change him. It will smooth the corners of his persona often violently. This is why it is essential that you maintain a balance for both. I see dark times on the horizon Namjoon and you must be ready."

It was easier to maintain eye contact with Mrs. Kim, her gaze seemed much less heavy than Mr. Kim's. It didn't mean it was easier to be face to face with her. Like her number one, she seemed determined to voice his own reasons without any intention of asking Namjoon's opinion.

"You know about the flaw of the system," Namjoon said then, interrupting her. He was tired of letting everyone push him around in the way it most suited them. It was time to stop with empty words and say things as they were.

Mrs. Kim betrayed a moment of hesitation. It was evident that she had not expected a reaction from him and Namjoon was internally satisfied with himself. However, his uncertainty lasted very little. She pierced him with her black eyes, so different from those of Jin, then, realizing that sugar-coated words wouldn't work with him, she changed tactics.

"Of course I know," she said bluntly, throwing the mask away. Finally, with those few words, Namjoon saw the woman behind the man, the one who with the force of her character had dragged his number one forward every time he had wavered, the one who had beautified his lies, and the one that with her pure and far more pleasant image, had made it possible to maintain the status quo.

"I know it since I set foot in this house. They also brought me to the laboratory just as it happened to you and, like yours, my mind has rebelled against the terrible paradox. There is no one here who, more than me, knows what you might have felt. But I also know you will get over it because I did it."

Namjoon almost snapped then because what went through the Kims's head to make them so sure they actually knew how he felt? He didn't care how many of them had managed to successfully overcome what they considered an inevitable test.

It didn't mean he could do it.

"There are many reasons why I gritted my teeth and endured it Namjoon, the status to name one, the money, my family. But I loved my soul mate and I think that - in the end - everything can be summarized with this. Wouldn't we all be willing to do anything for the person entrusted to us?"

Mrs. Kim hadn't pretended, not that it could have been credible considering she knew of the flaw, that her soul mate was more than a default assignment, yet her words implied a very strong sense of responsibility.

"My soulmate and I have had a son together and mine is an enviable life from every point of view. Don't you think that the well-being of your number one and the safety of us all are worth a personal sacrifice? My son Seokjin needs you."

There was something sick about the way these people expressed themselves. They talked about general well-being and the greater good, sending questionable and shady details into the oblivion with alarming ease, even when they knew how much the joy of one part weighed on the other. They had no qualms about using and exploiting whoever was useful for the family in order to maintain appearances. Even their own son.

Seokjin was a smart, strong and a resolute man.

But had anyone ever asked him if he needed help or what he really wanted to do in life? Namjoon found himself wondering if anyone had ever done it at the same time that he realized that he hadn't even bothered to do it either.

Seokjin had taken him to the community center but Namjoon had never asked or tried to understand his reasons more thoroughly.

On one thing, however, Seokjin's parents were right. This was their life, whether they liked it or not, this was their life. And if this was their life and considering the attachment Namjoon had for Jin, then it went without saying that it would be difficult for him to oppose. Give him up. After all, Mrs. Kim was right, Namjoon would have made the personal sacrifice, he was already doing it, he had understood that damn day.

It wasn't nice, though, that they would remind him of it at his every step, not as if it were his choice. But as an obligation.

"Seokjin needs you," Mrs. Kim said. "But this family too. This phrase can sound scary at your age, but you will not be alone. The family will be by your side and I will help to fulfill your duty," she concluded, almost softly, as her hand reached out to take Namjoon's.

Perhaps Mrs. Kim was sincere, perhaps she really believed in the rightness of their task, and in the role they were called to play. If this were true, her reasons by being deeper, were also more immovable.

Namjoon felt as if a claw, and not a graceful hand, were what had seized him.

Luckily she did not stay long. She left shortly thereafter, leaving behind a trail of perfume and another weight on his shoulders.

Miss Choi, together with the staff of the villa, came to take him shortly after to drag him to the next unavoidable commitment. Namjoon felt his head muffled as if someone had put some sawdust into it and he could not turn the gears around.

He dressed in mechanical movements and had lunch quickly in the kitchen of the villa while Miss Choi updated him on what to do. Seokjin had gone with Mr. Kim to a short lunch with the senators closest to them. It wanted to be an informal occasion but the very fact that the respective numbers one had not been invited, made him think that it was a more politicized meeting than expected. Mr. Kim was beginning to lay the foundations of what would be his son's future authority and, by extension, his.

Mrs. Kim came to life only at the time of going and at that point, Namjoon would have preferred that she had continued to keep her distance. He had the terrible suspicion that that day marked the beginning of further unpleasant interference in his life. He didn't want her to keep an eye on him with the excuse of taking care of him, but once again he seemed to have no choice.

Seokjin's mother sat with him in the back seats of the car, gave him an affectionate smile and then for Namjoon's great horror, she leaned forward to fix his shirt collar, as Jin used to do. A gesture that he must have seen his mother do to his father a million times and that ended up being engraved into his own antics.

Care, affection, bonds, they closed around him like a snare stronger than any command.

The car moved and he was dragged to his next destination, to yet another event for the Kim family.
Not even an hour later, the Academy of Arts stood before him in all the shining glory. It was a place that now, more than ever, looked dreamy in the eyes of Namjoon since he had come to realize how in the future he was going to be able to attend those kinds of places only on special occasions.

Namjoon considered himself a rather decent composer. It had not always been like that and it took a lot of time and Yoongi to tidy up his confusing expressive need. It had never crossed his mind to follow the academic path and study music, but the air that was breathed in those corridors smelled so much of freedom that Namjoon was burning with an excruciating feeling of envy.

Namjoon wasn't a number zero, he was allowed to pursue an artistic career if he wanted. Accepting that he wasn't allowed to do it anyway, it was a bleeding wound that he knew it would never heal, even under layers of feelings and love.

As Yoongi said so well, in our hearts there was plenty of space to feel everything.

The Kim's entourage guided them through the labyrinth of the corridors and into the auditorium where the first consul Kim and the heir's speech was planned to be held, as bodyguards escorted and shielded them from curious and indiscreet eyes of strangers.

Namjoon looked straight ahead, still disoriented and hurt by the words that had been spilled on him, and yet when the door of the auditorium finally opened and he and Mrs. Kim were made to sit in the seats closest to the pulpit reserved for them by the academy, the eyes of Namjoon immediately found that ones of Seokjin, and  he finally understood the real weight of what Mrs. Kim had tried to tell him.

I loved my soulmate , she said and Namjoon understood that of all the reasons the family could give him, that was the one that would count the most, the only one Mrs. Kim had to name.

Namjoon felt a lot, too much towards Seokjin. It was his weakness, it was their weapon. Namjoon was so attached to the other that the idea of betraying him was intolerable.

He had reached the point where he would have done anything for Seokjin. Like only someone who loved would do.

Seokjin had been magnificent throughout all the speech. Namjoon already knew he was but never had the skill of Seokjin in front of an audience been more evident to him than that day. It was not his perfect diction or the tone of voice with which he declaimed the speech what fascinated people. It was his persona, his friendly face and warm manners what conquered everyone, softening by a lot the title he carried along. It was a level of affability that the first consul Kim could have never achieved.

Mr. Kim had seen well when he said his son was the face they were waiting for. Namjoon wondered if he had seen right through him too. If by merely looking at his data spat out by the machine, he had recognized immediately he was the one they needed. But in a way hadn't they confirmed that suspicion to him, hadn't they all underlined just how convenient had been the union between him and Seokjin?

The person who has been assigned to me. Jin was his and he was Jin's.

Namjoon stood by Jin's side for all the duration of the event, doing his best to smile in front of the photographers, but then around mid-afternoon he started to feel unwell. His migraine had begun sometime after lunch, and he had then proceeded to stuff himself with painkillers just to be able to attend Seokjin's speech, but he knew that the headache would come back to life later and more violent.

Namjoon catapulted himself out of the car as soon as it stopped in the backyard of the mansion. His head felt no longer full of sawdust but a continuous lament of pain.

"Namjoon," Seokjin called his named with worry in his tone, as he wrapped one arm around his torso. Seokjin had immediately noticed his condition and he was the one that actually had insisted on returning to the Kim mansion. Considering how successful the whole event the family hadn't opposed.

Seokjin led him inside, his presence like a pillar and his body heat a comforting presence. Namjoon was the person who had been entrusted to him after all, yet it was more than that, it was more than that for both of them.

Namjoon heard Seokjin give instructions to the staff as he dragged him further inside and Namjoon was grateful to him because he didn't have the strength to mumble more than a couple of words.

"Maybe a shower can help you, I'll get you some tea and painkillers," Seokjin suggested as soon as they stepped inside Namjoon's, rubbing his back with affection.

"I doubt this headache will ever go away," Namjoon said a bit harshly but then, feeling guilty for using that tone with Jin, immediately added, "but thank you." Seokjin nodded, still looking worried. His face betrayed an anxious shadow but he didn't say anything else and let Namjoon free to retire to the bathroom.

When he came back to his room, Namjoon found him sitting on his bed with his jacket still on and the tie around his neck still perfect in his tight double knot. There was a cup of steaming tea on the desk waiting for him and another in Jin's hands, who nevertheless seemed not to have noticed his presence and kept staring straight ahead of him. Even if Namjoon was the one with a migraine, somehow the one who looked pained was Jin.

"Seokjin?" Was Namjoon's turn to call his name. Seokjin for a moment seemed not to have heard him but then Namjoon saw him inhale, tighten his grip on his cup as if he wanted to cling to it, and then turn around to face him. From his look and the words that followed it was evident that he had made a decision.

"You're not happy here," Namjoon could feel the drops of water of his still wet hair slipping under his shirt and down his back, but it wasn't that what made him shudder. It was the certainty with which Seokjin had spoken and the realization that Seokjin had always been able to read him in spite of all his most desperate efforts to keep up appearances.

Namjoon stood there, frozen like a block of ice, the towel he had brought back to finish drying his hair, hanging sadly and forgotten from his right hand.

"Are you?" Namjoon then asked because it was important for him to know what Seokjin felt from the moment he realized he had never asked. Because he had the sickening suspicion that perhaps no one had ever asked him.

Seokjin sighed, his gaze moved along the carpet, avoiding looking towards Namjoon.

"This is my life. I always knew what they expected from me since I was a child and I tried with all my might to slip into clothes that I didn't feel mine and yet, somehow, they were. I did it because I love my family and because I felt it was my duty. Yet the more I grew up, the more the weight of what it was required from me became suffocating as if spires were wrapping tightly around my body to annihilate me. But I accepted it, I was naively convinced that having someone by my side to share my burden would make it lighter. Bearable. I longed to meet you even before I knew you were my soulmate. I should have imagined that you would have demolished my every hypothesis, that you would have exceeded my expectations," he concluded with a melancholy smile.

"I don't know what my father or what my mother told you. But if they told you the same things that they told me and that they repeated to me since I was little, I can imagine a bit how destabilizing it was. However, unlike you, I had years to get used to it while you were dragged into this mess just recently. I wanted my soul mate because I thought we could share the good times, I never wanted you with me to share my pains."

Namjoon closed his eyes for a moment, savoring that moment while his temples throbbed with a new certainty.

After all, it was not important if there was a secret document hidden in one of the drawers of that damn laboratory that said that Seokjin was not for him and he was not for Seokjin. He didn't give a damn if there was someone else out there for the both of them and if their union was therefore only the result of corruption and calculation.

This imperfect and rabid Namjoon had fallen in love with Seokjin.

He loved like an inexperienced young man and with frenziness of those who were caught by love off guard, but he also loved like someone who would never want to stop being the shadow of the other even if it condemned him in the darkness.

He approached Jin then, took the empty cup from his hands, placed it on the bedside table because he couldn't bear to see any longer how the older's knuckles turned white for the violence of his grip, and he said,

"We are soulmates. If this is your life, then it's mine too."

He could have said a lot of other things, what he hid in the deep recess of his mind for example, but at that moment, telling Jin that he would be there, despite everything, it seemed the most important thing.

Seokjin, who had been so careful not to begin physical contact since that fated evening when they had come out into the open with their respective lies, abandoned any type of caution.

Namjoon was happy to be able to return the hug when Seokjin, his number one, threw his arms around his neck.

"I love you," Seokjin softly whispered, very softly, in his ear like he was almost afraid to be heard while confessing the only truth that Namjoon liked to hear.

Namjoon sank his fingers into the fabric of his jacket.