Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you know, when the sun sets, there’s a brief moment where there’s a green light?”

Everyone pauses and stares at Namjoon. 

“What?” Yoongi stops tracing a swirling pattern in the sand.

“Earth’s atmosphere refracts light. And different colors refract at different angles–green and blue get refracted more than red. When the sun is near the horizon, it passes through a thicker layer of atmosphere, which only makes the refraction more pronounced. But it’s a somewhat rare effect.” It’s so effortless, the way he just knew all that. Maybe that’s what being at the top of the class does to you, Seokjin thinks.

“As expected from the top student,” Taehyung says, and Seokjin worries for a second if Taehyung can read his mind. 

“We must be really lucky if we get to see it, huh?” Hoseok laughs.

“If we see it, let’s make a wish,” Namjoon plays along. His cheeks are pink: clearly Taehyung’s compliment was not lost on him.

The sunset catches just right when Seokjin becomes hyper aware that he’s been staring at Namjoon. Suddenly, Namjoon’s glowing. Maybe he always has been, maybe this is his true form—someone who stands tall, ready to face the world, confident in it all. 

Of course Seokjin admires Namjoon. Who wouldn’t? He’s the smartest person out of anyone Seokjin knows, someone who could even point out the flaws in the teachers’ ways of thinking, which would lead to his inevitable detention of cleaning the school. Seokjin would ask to be punished out of solidarity, and the effect would ripple where even Jungkook, two years below them, would purposely get detention too just to be with the group.

Seokjin knows Namjoon is wiser way, way beyond his years. He was forced to be that way by his circumstances, learning from a young age to eagerly take any odd job or shoulder any responsibility if it meant taking care of his family. This was someone who had to grow up too soon, who had to face the harsh realities of the world while he was also learning chemistry.

But, Namjoon had confided in him before, there’s something about being with you guys, in that little hangout room we call our own where I don’t have to think about all that. I’m not Kim Namjoon, the ‘broke fuck’ who works at a gas station and collects all the money he earns from his jobs in a water jug. I’m just Namjoon, a 17-year-old who likes to laugh with his friends and eat candy.

On a purple sky, the sun dips below the horizon. Seven kids lean in in anticipation.

No matter which of the seven you ask about this day, they would all have the same answer. That, for a split second, in the last moments of sunlight, there was a brief flash of green on the horizon as the sun disappeared.

===

“When do you leave?” Namjoon asks Seokjin.

It’s dark out. The others stumble back to Seokjin’s pickup, watered-down soju in their system. Jungkook insisted on racing Taehyung and Yoongi over ( first one there gets the second seat , he declared), and Hoseok and Jimin walk at their own pace, lost in a conversation only they understand.

“Ah, either August or September, I think,” Seokjin averts his gaze.

“California, right?"

“Yeah. My grandma lives there, so my dad also wants me to go so I can visit her on some weekends. And don’t worry, really, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I know you’ll be fine,” Namjoon says so matter-of-factly, flustering Seokjin. “Well, tell me when you leave. I want to see you off properly.”

“‘See me off properly?’” Seokjin laughs.

“Well, I was thinking we could get dinner. Something really classic, like kimchi jjigae. Or tteokbokki. You know it won’t be the same in California.”

“I haven’t had tteokbokki in forever,” Seokjin muses.

They continue in comfortable silence.

“Can I tell you something? I-I haven’t really told anyone this before.” Namjoon suddenly asks, taking the lollipop out from his mouth.

Yes, anything, Seokjin thinks. “Sure,” he replies.

“When I was applying for university, I put in applications for SKY a while back, just to see what they’d say. Because I knew deep down if I didn’t, I’d always regret it.”

“Seoul National, Korea University, and Yonsei? Surely they all must have said yes to the secret genius, right?”

“I got a scholarship from Yonsei.”

“What?” Seokjin stops.

“Yonsei offered me a scholarship if I went.”

“Well, what’d you say?”

“What do you think? I said no.”

“No??”

“I’m not you, Jin.” Namjoon turns around to face him. “I can’t just drop everything and move to go to university.”

“It’s Yonsei! Anybody would kill to go there!” Seokjin protests.

“I know, but I have to take care of my mom, and my sister’s still young.”

“But–but what do you want?” Seokjin’s pleading now, as if that’ll change anything. As if he can make Namjoon change his mind, realize it was stupid to reject the offer, and retroactively change it. But he can’t go back.

“I have a bigger duty to fulfill,” Namjoon grumbles, putting the lollipop back in his mouth and looking away.

He’s hurt, Seokjin realizes. Of course a part of him wants to go. But it’s drowned out by the part of him that knows he has to stay.

“Surely they’d understand?” Seokjin stammers.

“Let’s be honest, if ‘they’ understood, I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. I’d be on the next plane to America, just like you.”

Seokjin opens his mouth, but the words won’t come out. You have so much potential. You can be in a place where there are people as smart as you. You can be more, you can get out of the situation you’re in—can’t you, for once in your life, Kim Namjoon, get to do what YOU want?

“It’s not like I’m not going to university at all. I got a full scholarship from a virtual university, so I can still go to school and take care of everyone,” Namjoon laughs, sensing Seokjin’s hesitation. “And it’ll be good. If I have a college education, I can get higher paying jobs.”

He’s always so practical, Seokjin thinks, but he knows thinking this is futile anyway.

“What are you studying?” Seokjin asks.

“Medicine,” Namjoon replies. For his mom, no doubt.

“I thought you would do literature or something. You’re always reading. And I just know you’d be a great writer,” Seokjin laughs bittersweetly.

“I can’t just chase silly dreams forever.”

“There we go again, talking about dreams,” Seokjin grumbles.

“What will you study?” Namjoon flips the question.

Seokjin falters, suddenly preoccupying himself by fidgeting with his nails. “I don’t know yet. My dad wants me to do economics, so I can work for his company and take it over one day.”

“And what do you want to do?”

“I thought we said we can’t chase silly dreams,” Seokjin teases.

“There’s a difference between a silly dream and a real dream. A silly dream is to think I can make money from reading and writing. A real dream is to study medicine so I can help to cure my mom, or at least make sure no one else has to suffer the way she does,” Namjoon explains. 

Fuck, Seokjin thinks. He’s so cool. 

“So what’re your dreams?” Namjoon asks him as the pair approaches Seokjin’s pickup.

“Jin! Jin! Did you see? I got here first!” Jungkook exclaims.

“Not true, my hand touched the door first, right Yoongi?” Taehyung complains.

“Oh, I wasn’t looking,” Yoongi admits, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Seokjin laughs. “Rock-paper-scissors for who sits in the front then, and Yoongi, you know you can’t smoke in the car.”

Yoongi waves his hand dismissively, putting the cigarette out beneath his sneaker. Jungkook and Taehyung do a round of rock-paper-scissors. And another. And another. And—

“Can you guys hurry? It’s getting cold,” Jimin pouts, and sneezes to punctuate his point.

“If you guys can’t decide, I’m going to sit in the front,” Namjoon declares, an idea that doesn’t get met with as much pushback as he thought it would get. 

Seokjin unlocks the doors, and everyone scrambles inside for warmth, teeth chattering.

“Just think about what I said,” Namjoon says quietly as Seokjin starts the car. He pauses, as if to say more, but the whir of the engine drowns his thoughts out.

Chapter Text

On Seokjin’s final day in Korea, he meets Namjoon outside an old restaurant. For the kimchi jjigae you owe me, remember? Seokjin explained to Namjoon over the phone.

Right , Namjoon admits sheepishly. I almost forgot about that.

Plus, I don’t know, I guess I kind of wanted to see you one last time , Seokjin says it so quietly, Namjoon almost thinks it wasn't meant for him.

I'll be there. You just say the word, he ended up saying.

“I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” Namjoon holds the door open, letting Seokjin bring in all his suitcases. They sit at a wooden table by the window. “You packed less than I thought,” he admits.

“Some of my stuff is already in California, these are my clothes and basic necessities,” Seokjin gestures to one large check-in and one carry-on.

“You’re leaving kind of early, aren’t you?”

“I’m staying with my grandma in Los Angeles for a week to adjust to the time.”

They order their meals. Namjoon suddenly scrambles, looking through all his pockets for something.

“What did you lose?” Seokjin teases.

“It should be around here somewhere…aha!” Namjoon places a black leather case in front of Seokjin. “A going away present from all of us. We tapped into the Seollal funds for this.”

Seokjin opens the case: it’s a small digital camera. It’s nothing fancy, and truly more for the nostalgia and novelty. But in that moment, Seokjin swears it’s worth more than any Canon or Sony in the world.

He powers it on. “Are there any photos already?” He asks reverently, still admiring the camera. He almost notices how Namjoon’s face softens, as if he was predicting this reaction the whole time.

There are seven photos on the camera.

The first, their hideout spot. The sunlight pours through the window, illuminating the piano, the windowsill where Namjoon used to lean on, the desks where Jungkook would lose arm wrestling contests, and Jimin would rest his head after a long day. Seokjin reaches out to touch it, as if thinking by doing so he could transport himself into the photo, see the six taking the photo—Jungkook would fuss with Namjoon about what to and what not to include, how to make it look pretty—and stay there forever. With them.

The second photo is of Jungkook, bright-eyed and hopeful, smiling uncertainly in his school uniform. Maybe it’s the grain of the camera, but Seokjin swears Jungkook’s eyes are misty. But he knows Jungkook, and he knows that if he did cry, he’d ask for the photo to be deleted. We should leave Jin with happy memories, he’d say, his attempt at mirroring Namjoon’s life philosophies.

Taehyung crouches in the third photo, smiling his boxy smile and flashing a V-sign to the camera. He can almost hear Namjoon’s instructions behind the camera (“Smile, it’s for Jin”) and knows how easily Taehyung would follow. He really admires you, Seokjin thinks. We all do.  

Seokjin moves to the next photo, Jimin resting his head against the bus window. He looks like a prince. Majestic, delicate. But he realizes these descriptors maybe match porcelain more. Delicate, like you’re scared to touch it, for fear that it’ll break.

The fifth photo is Hoseok in a parking lot, mid-dance routine. His arms are a blur, but through it, his face is determined. He always gives it his all. As if dance all he has, the single thread keeping Hoseok from losing his mind.

Yoongi’s face is illuminated in his photo by the lighter as he brings it to light his cigarette. Seokjin recognizes his outfit from the day they were at the beach, when they saw the green flash. Maybe Jungkook took this photo , he wonders. It’s almost hard to detect, but there’s a reverence in this photo. Like he saw something so good he just had to capture it.

The final photo is of Namjoon, in the most quintessentially Namjoon photo ever. He wears his gas station uniform, a black jacket over a gray hoodie, his black cap, and the lollipop that he’s almost never without. Seokjin looks up at Namjoon. Except right now , he thinks. The photo is taken in a mirror of some kind, maybe a bathroom, and Seokjin is hit with a pang of sadness. If only he weren’t so scared of reaching out, if only he weren’t so preoccupied with others. Wouldn’t he know we would love to take a photo of him?

“Wait, it’s not complete yet, you need one,” Namjoon says, reaching for the camera. After fumbling with the camera, even taking the time to put on the wrist strap, he points the lens at Seokjin.

“What pose should I do?” Seokjin laughs sheepishly.

“When I posed the others, I kind of just told them to be themselves. So do what pose you think is the most Seokjin pose.”

At that moment, two stone bowls of kimchi jjigae are placed on the table, clouding the bottom of the lens. Namjoon reaches to wipe the fog off with his sleeve but—

“Don’t,” Seokjin grabs his wrist. “It’ll have a realer effect if you keep it.”

Namjoon obliges.

“Argh, I still don’t know what to do. And the food’s going to get cold,” Seokjin complains.

“What do you give a cannibal when he’s late for dinner?” Namjoon suddenly blurts out.

“What?” Seokjin asks, bewildered.

“A cold shoulder.”

It processes in Seokjin’s mind for a second. Did Namjoon really just make a dad joke? And it’s so bad, too. Is this how the others feel when I do this? Man, I’ll miss doing stupid shit like this with them.

And suddenly, Seokjin is laughing, laughing way harder than the joke deserves. But he’s laughing because maybe it’s the only thing to stop him from crying. Or he’s laughing because for one more second, it’s the closest thing he can get to being a kid again, laughing at dumb kids’ jokes and eating kimchi jjigae just like his mom would make him after a long, cold, Korean winter. He’s almost too preoccupied hearing himself laugh that he can faintly hear Namjoon’s laugh in the distance, laughing along at how truly and utterly stupid this whole situation is.

Namjoon hands Seokjin back the camera, and he goes to check the photo.

It’s him, mid laugh, head tipped forward and hand bracing his stomach. 

“It’s perfect,” Namjoon says, and Seokjin has to agree. “Come on, dig in.”

Seokjin places the camera back in its case and the case in his bag next to his passport. All the essentials in one place.

They eat, reminiscing about their memories together, and silently, the selfish part of Seokjin wishes so badly to take Namjoon with him. It’s what he deserves, he rationalizes. He’s so smart, he’ll thrive in America. Way more than I will, at least.

“You should come back,” Namjoon says, mouth full of tofu.

“What?” Seokjin asks.

“I said,” Namjoon swallows. “You should come back. All the American universities have that program, right? ‘Study abroad,’” he says in perfect English. “Come back to Korea for a year.”

“I’ll think about it,” Seokjin replies in English. It’s not as good as Namjoon’s, and there are moments where the Korean accent slips back through, but he reckons it’ll pass in everyday conversations.

They finish eating, Seokjin covers the bill (Namjoon fought him over it, don’t worry, I can tap into a few thousand won for a meal with a friend, really, but Seokjin’s argument of c’mon, it’s the last time I can do this for a while ultimately shut him up), and they wait outside after Seokjin calls a taxi.

“I guess it’s goodbye, right?” Seokjin asks.

“For now,” Namjoon replies.

They hug, and Seokjin lingers one beat too long. 

It starts to pour when the taxi arrives.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Seokjin asks as they load his luggage.

“Trust me, I’ve been through worse,” Namjoon smiles, dimples peeking through. I’ll miss that smile a lot, Seokjin muses.

They hug one more time for good measure, and just as Seokjin is about to close the taxi door, Namjoon pokes his head in. “Keep in touch,” he pleads. “Please. I—or, we’ll—miss you.”

Seokjin nods, and Namjoon closes the door. He looks out the window as the taxi rolls to Incheon Airport, only peeling his eyes off when he’s certain he can’t tell Namjoon’s receding silhouette apart from the raindrops streaking across his window.

He opens his bag to double-check that he has his passport, and comes across a piece of paper folded in his bag that he doesn’t recognize, right next to the camera case. He opens it.

Good luck in America! We’ll miss you :(

- Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Namjoon

Seokjin chokes back a sob as the tears start to trickle down his face.