Prompt: Please Stay Namseok

Nam Joon ran into the café five minutes late. He searched over the sea of tables, of college students with their laptops open and coffee cups in their hand, for a familiar face. Their usual table was taken by three girls with messy buns trading flashcards. It took three scans for him to find her long red hair in a round table next to a coat rack.

She stood up when Nam Joon walked towards her. “You’re late little brother,” she teased as she hugged him.

“Sorry Seokjinnie,” he hung his damp coat on the rack next to them, “I was at a Professor’s office hours.”

“It’s fine, as long as you pass your classes this semester,” Seokjin gave him a pointed look.

Nam Joon smiled sheepishly.

Seokjin wore a red peacoat today, and against her chair was the large caned umbrella she bought when he was ten and she was thirteen and they had a family vacation in Spain, the same vacation where Nam Joon got lost in Cordoba and sat alone for an hour in a mosque until she found him.

“Have you talked to mom lately?” she asked.

“I called her yesterday, she said she’s spending Christmas in Busan with Jung Ho.”

Seokjin scoffed, “Is that her boyfriend’s name? I thought it was Heung Soo.”

“No that was the other guy, the one with the red Ferrari.”

They laughed.

“Where’s Hyosang?” Nam Joon asked, “Aren’t you attached at the hip?”

Seokjin sighed, “He caught a stomach flu over the weekend.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine now, it was a 24 hour bug so he’s at home sleeping it off.”

“My roommate, Jimin, caught that a while ago. He looked like a zombie.”

“Same with Hyosang,” she laughed, “Besides sick roommates, what else is going on with your life?”

“Nothing much,” Nam Joon shrugged.

“Are you sure?” she asked, “Nothing happened with that girl you told me about?”

Nam Joon groaned, “Really sis?”

Seokjin gave a devious smile, the kind Nam Joon only saw on older sisters, “Come on, did you ask her out?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted, “but there was progress.”

~~

Nam Joon caught her in the dance studio.

Well, not exactly caught, it wasn’t coincidental; Hoseok was always in the dancing studios. And Jimin was a dance major so Nam Joon always met him at the dance department after his classes, then they drove home together.

And Jimin had a habit of not charging his phone and making Nam Joon wander through the studios to look for him.

But this was the first time Nam Joon opened one of the rooms to catch Hoseok dancing by herself.

She was mid choreography, leg outstretched for the move, when he walked in on her.

She stared.

He blushed.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered.

“It’s okay, I should start packing up anyway,” she turned off the music, Beyonce’s Partition, and pulled her ipod from the dock.

The first time Nam Joon had seen her, she was on a stage with glitter around her eyes and pink on her lips, and she danced as if she were grace personified.

He had been captivated then.

Even now, with her sweatpants and her face free of makeup, she was captivating. Not in the artifice theater way, but in a way that made her appear genuine, with her black hair cascading down her back instead of being held up by three bottles of hairspray.

“Do you need help with something,” she smiled politely.

“Have you seen Jimin?” he asked.

“He was here, he should be back in a few minutes,” she answered.

“Uh thanks,” Nam Joon stood there. He stared at her.

She stared back.

He smoothed down his pants, “Well, I’ll a wait out there,” he motioned vaguely to the hallway.

“No, please stay.” She had dark brown eyes. There was a sole freckle on her upper lip.

Nam Joon nodded, “Okay.”

She smiled, formed a heart, “Great, you’re Nam Joon right?”

She tied her hair up into a bun revealing a thin back with sharp shoulder blades.

“Uh yeah, I’m a third year composition major.”

“That’s cool,” she played with her ipod, “I was working on a routine for the spring festival, do you mind looking at it and telling me what you think?”

“Sure, I mean I- I know nothing about dance,” he stammered.

“It’s okay, I just want to gauge an audience reaction,” she reattached the ipod to the speakers and walked to the center of the room. The first notes of the song echoed through the walls. Nam Joon made eye contact with her reflection through dance studio mirrors. She smiled. He smiled back.

Then the beat dropped and the smile was gone. Her body curved into herself, flowed with the music. He traced her hips as they sashayed, and watched her stomach curve with the body rolls. Her bones were made of Mercury, he thought, each limb moved independently from each other yet they all flowed to make one elegant movement. He watched her fall apart and the expressions on her face. Pain? Anguish? Torment? Nam Joon couldn’t place it but he watched her express it. He was once again captivated.

The music kept going but her movements stopped. She stood upright and turned to Nam Joon, smiling. “Well, what did you think?” she asked.

Nam Joon found his voice, “That was good.”

~~

“And?”

“I excused myself and waited outside the building for Jimin.”

Seokjin smiled around her coffee mug, “That’s what you call progress?”

“She knows my name,” Nam Joon smiled sheepishly.

“That campus is so small that everyone knows each other,” she laughed this time.

Nam Joon stirred sugar into his cup, “Shut up, it’s a start.”

“A start is getting her number,” Seokjin calmed down, “why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say? I’ve noticed you since freshmen year when you were fire dancing across a stage,” Nam Joon’s face turned red, “Or maybe I should have told her that her smiles are sunshine.”

“Yes, say that, compliments work wonders.”

He thought of long black hair, and heart shaped smiles saved only for him. He shook his head, “Maybe next time.”

“Oh, Nam Joonie,” Seokjin smiled fondly, “you’re a little coward.”

“I’m a big coward thank you,” he smirked, “One of these days, I’ll ask her. And I’ll bring her to the coffee shop and show her off to you.”

Seokjin smiled, “I look forward to that day.”