Chapter Text
‘‘Renowned Fashion Model, Kim Namjoon, the face of brands like Saint Laurent and Jean Paul Gaultier, is dating fellow model Lee Hyerin, the ambassador for Lancome and Prada. The news was confirmed by Lee Hyerin herself, as she was interviewed on the set of her latest Elle cover shoot. Additionally, Hyerin’s rep has issued a statement addressing the model’s remarks, reaffirming that the models have been dating each other for a while now and want to keep their relationship private. More details coming after the commercials!’’
The fourth wine glass of the night sits idly in your hand as you stare at the screen of your T.V, mouth slightly agape as the words that you hear process inside your head.
Namjoon is officially dating Lee Hyerin.
You want to think it’s a joke. It has to be a joke, a terrible one at that.
The news comes from Fame TV, a show dedicated to talking about the baseless industry rumors that you’d hear between whispers and murmurs of the people working behind the scenes everywhere you went. So, this news has to be fake, right?
How is it that this gossip show knows about your best friend’s dating status before you?
The high-pitched giggle of the model you can’t seem to tolerate brings you back to reality, the show is back from commercials. It’s the video of the interview where she claims she’s dating Namjoon. Her makeup looks flawless and you’re reminded of her face that morning you saw her at Namjoon’s apartment building, a stark contrast of the woman on screen.
‘‘Well, I’ve known Joonie for a while now and, yes, we’ve been dating for some time,’’ she shyly admits, cheeks tinted like a schoolgirl with a crush. ‘‘He’s incredibly sweet and such a gentleman! I really like him, yeah.’’
You can feel your heartbeat race up, anxiety kicking in as you ask yourself why would she say that in front of the cameras. Why would she lie? It’d be embarrassing for her if Hoseok ─Namjoon’s rep─ came out denying the news. Hyerin might act dumb, but at least you know her team works smartly. They have confirmed the news already.
Quickly, you reach for your phone on the coffee table and you place the wine glass carelessly, not even realizing that it stumbles and the remaining red liquid spills onto the wooden floor of your apartment.
Your fingers are shaky as you go to text Hoseok but become startled as a notification appears, letting you know the representative was thinking about the same thing as you.
[10:28 PM] Hoseok: don’t worry
[10:28 PM] Hoseok: on it already
Breathing out a sigh of relief, you try to calm yourself down. It must’ve been a misunderstanding. Hyerin finally fucked up and got herself ahead, Namjoon is going to realize she’s insane and he’ll drop her. He hates appearing on tabloids, especially if anything pertaining to his private life makes its way there and Hyerin has put him front and center without his consent.
You pout as you think about your best friend, poor Namjoon is probably nose deep in a book and completely unaware of what’s going on. You think it’s only fair to let him know than him finding out from the trending topics on Twitter, a social media he’s frequently active on.
To your surprise, the call beeps until it leads you through voicemail. You don’t think much of it at first. He’s probably left his phone somewhere in his apartment and he's still looking for it like he always does. So you call again and the same thing happens. You try again, again and again.
You’ve rung Namjoon’s phone eight times without an answer when it starts to worry you to the point that you quickly take your things and order an Uber straight to this building.
Maybe it’s the alcohol in your system that makes you take such a rash decision in such a short amount of time. Maybe you’re genuinely concerned about your friend’s lack of an answer. Or maybe you just want to see him and be there for him in this situation, to protect him from the noisy media and the girl he thinks likes him for who really is.
By the time you arrive in front of the sky-high building, you notice the lights of Namjoon's apartment unit are lit up, which means the man is still awake and you begin to wonder why hadn’t he answered your calls. Shaking the thoughts aside, you make your way in quickly, forgetting to greet Mr. Kwan in the front, who doesn’t seem to mind as he absentmindedly wishes you a good evening.
You look so sloppy compared to the times you’ve stepped into this building, all prim and proper in your work attire. You hadn’t even realized you were wearing your sweatpants and an oversized shirt that was stained with drops of red wine, the one you wore when you knew you were about to drink.
Once you’re in front of Namjoon’s apartment door, you hear the faint music coming from the inside. It’s slow R&B, a genre that he enjoys. Concluding that he is awake, you ring the doorbell and wait for him to answer.
You wait outside for five minutes without an answer. A scoff escapes your lips as you wonder what the hell is he even doing that seems to make it impossible for him to answer his phone or the door of his home.
Your patience wears thin and you decide to input the code to his lock, the one you know by heart. Namjoon doesn’t ever get bothered by you doing so, anyway. If anything, he gets happy when you drop by unannounced and for anything non-work-related. It’s been a long while since that, though.
Opening the door, the music becomes more clear. It’s not the only thing that makes its way into your ears. You don’t even make it five steps inside when you realize just why it is that Namjoon can’t seem to answer you.
The reason he doesn’t have the time for you is whining and moaning inside his bedroom. The headboard of the bed hitting against the wall can be heard throughout the whole place, even from the place your feet are stuck in the foyer of the apartment.
‘‘Oh my God ─ Joonie, Joonie, yes, right there !’’ You manage to hear from the blissed-out voice of Lee Hyerin.
A trembling hand covers your mouth and you don’t know if it’s because you feel like you’re about to throw up or it’s to muffle the cries threatening to escape your mouth. It doesn’t even matter, they won’t hear you anyway.
It’s not until you hear his voice cursing out, that you realize that you aren’t supposed to be here.
Blinking harshly, you back away until you're outside the apartment and the door is locked once again. The music sounds far away once again. The moans can’t be heard from outside and yet, it’s the only thing you can hear while you make your way towards the elevator.
As it goes down, your lips part as the unfortunate event replays itself over and over inside your head. You hadn’t even realized the tears were streaming down your face until you observed your appearance reflecting on the doors of the elevator.
Your nostrils flare up, breathing in deeply. How hadn’t you noticed the faint, but bitter scent of Chanel N. 05 lingering inside the elevator?
‘‘Have a safe trip, Ms.’’ Mr. Kwan tells you with a tired voice and you can only nod, glad that the man doesn’t care to ask why your face looks the way it does.
Your apartment feels...cold. The T.V is still on, but Fame T.V is no longer on air as another show plays. The spilled wine has dried down on the floor, but you make no effort to clean it up. The remaining strength you have is used to take your numb legs straight to bed, flopping down into the mattress as you stare at the ceiling in silence.
The tears continue spilling, but you force your lips tight together to avoid the whimpers from leaving. You close your eyes briefly, letting yourself slip for once. It’s dumb, but your emotions thank you. They rarely ever show up and tonight, it fucking hurts, but they’re here to stay. At least for a while.
Really, you could show up tomorrow and face Namjoon as nothing happened, smile at him and go on about your day ─ the rest of your life even, suppressing the feelings down. But pretending has become too burdensome for you and your work, but mostly you.
A week. That’s all you need.
And for the first time in three years as your best friend’s personal assistant, you decide you’ll take a day off.