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yournameyn · 2 years

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Feeling Deeply: Ch 6

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Yet. Mention of domestic abuse - transgressor's perspective also included. I'm not justifying what Namjoon did in the last chapter and neither is his character in the story.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Current Chapter: Agonising over a grave mistake he made, Namjoon goes about town in a daze of having completely lost himself. He finds a friend (someone we love too) who reminds him of home and helps him look at himself through kinder eyes.

Dedication: To a great friend and the most loyal, loving reader a writer could ask for and triple bonus she's a brilliant writer herself! @moonchild0297 thank you for being so amaze!

Chapter Six

The next few days, Namjoon couldn’t really move. His head was throbbing with a reality so stark it was cutting into him. Three days passed in a blur. A constant dull thud in his head and in his heart. He didn’t stay awake nor did he sleep. He existed, barely, in the chasm that exists between alert and unconscious.

On the third night, Namjoon finally fell asleep.

As did Brishti.

She had been in a manic state ever since she had arrived at Sayuri-San’s home that night. The night she left the home she had made with the only man, the only person she had ever truly loved.

That first night, she tried to leave a couple hundred times, “I should go… He wouldn’t know what to do… This is the first time he’s been this way…”

Sayuri-san stopped her with a sentence, “You left for a reason.” The wise woman knew these words wouldn’t have the same power over her the next couple hundred times she would try to leave. So, on the second day of Brishti being away from home, she called in reinforcements - Min Yoongi.

Even Brishti was relieved to hear he was on his way. The two of them shared a special bond. It wasn’t about being asians, being foreigners in England, it wasn’t even about being librarians. The tie that Brishti and Yoongi shared was the feeling of abandon, of exclusion. Of never having been loved right. Of being rejected by a world whose love they wanted to rule over but also rebel against. And yet, when Yoongi arrived, Brishti couldn’t share everything with him. She sat with her head hung low. Sayuri-San left for work letting them both know she would cover for them.

She also said to Brishti,“You’ve said many times that everything you’ve ever done has led you to Namjoon. That is not so. This is - everything you have ever done… trying to protect your freedom, your solidarity from everyone who has tried to control you, this is who you truly are… free. And this… this has led to the moment of perfect clarity. Stepping out of that house... that is the Brishti you have built for yourself. And if you do nothing else today, just… be proud of that.”

Brishti raised her head to look at Sayuri-san. In her eyes she saw regret… She saw that Sayuri-san wasn’t able to do the right thing for herself. That so many of us are so shaped by violence, we can’t even recognise it. Brishti held Sayuri-san’s hands in her own and pressed in a warm touch that said thank you.

When she was gone, Min Yoongi asked, “How are you feeling?”

Brishti had retreated into her shell again. She answered nonetheless, “Crazy… I feel crazy…”

“Will you please look up?” he asked patiently.

“I don’t want you to judge him… I know… I know this is not okay. That’s why I left but… this is not who he is. I know every woman says the same thing but I-” Brishti broke off crying.

“Brishti… did you get any sleep? You’re going to hurt your eyes crying so much...”

“Yeah…” Brishti wiped her tears, still not looking up. Yoongi placed a hand on her arm, telling her silently - he’s here. He’s here for her. Brishti raised her head and brushed her hair back. Yoongi could see the light greyish greenish bruises on her cheek and the darker purple bruise on her neck. When she saw his gaze lingering on her neck, tears streamed down her face again and she began to explain, “He... he removed his hand as soon-”

Yoongi interrupted her, “I’m no one to judge him… not about his worst actions.” He rolled up the sleeves of his blue shirt. Brishti had seen the scars on Yoongi’s arms but she knew he was alot more than the jagged, lighter-than-skin lines, protruding just slightly. She understood… This is what he was telling her. Namjoon was not his worst actions, the physical wounds he had inflicted either. Brishti smiled. Yoongi rolled down his sleeve as Brishti placed her hands on his arms, just like he had done a moment ago. They hugged as Brishti wept on her friend’s shoulders. Partly because of the kindness that flowed out of the usually prickly young man. Yoongi said, while stroking Brishti’s hair, “You did the right thing… you did…” He patted her head before pulling away, “Now stop crying. You look like a banged-up Vietnamese boxer…”

Brishti let out a half-chuckle before settling back. “I… I don’t want to talk about how it all happened…”

Yoongi nodded, “We don’t have to… What… how can I help?”

Brishti shook her head, out of her wits, “Can we talk about… something normal?... I’m not trying to overlook-”

Yoongi stopped her again, “Hey…You don’t have to justify anything… trying to overlook would have meant you staying with him… pretending like nothing happened. You didn’t do that, did you?” He waited for Brishti to look at him and answer. She could only manage to shake her head no while more tears streamed down her face. Yoongi went on - “You did the right thing. You left. And I’m not saying this as- as an end to your relationship… It's more like... a problem. A big problem. You did your part… by leaving, you said NO, this will not do. The rest of the solution… it needs to come from him.”

She seemed genuinely surprised, “You don’t think… you don’t think this is the end?”

He was emphatic, “Haah! Nooo… this is the Namjoon you’ve been biting my head off about... how adorable he is, how brilliant he is, how sweet he is… I believe you. It’s the same guy… he’s just… in a bit of hot water. How he holds up… we have to see.”

Brishti smiled. Yoongi smiled too, not just in reciprocation. He was truly happy to see her smile. She’d always known his grumpy disposition was just a facade, but beneath it lay such a large reservoir of soft love, Brishti was just finding out.

He was back in a flash though, when he said,“Come on now you need to sleep... you look like a fisherman who has an allergy to fish.”

Brishti laughed and once again tears streamed down her face. Yoongi gave her an assuring smile and wiped off her tears with his sleeve. He got her to go to sleep. And Brishti did sleep, for the first time in days… without her husband beside her.

Back at what was their home, Namjoon woke up dazed. It hurt him to see her reflected in every little thing here… the distance between the coffee table and the sofa, adjusted to her height, so she could rest with her legs stretched; The bookshelf that she was always, endlessly arranging; The little Bengali and Korean alphabets she had painted along the doorway of their bedroom; The way, in place of photoframes, she had proudly displayed what few poems he had shown her on the mantle. He couldn’t breathe here, knowing he had driven the soul of this home away. When he finally got out of the flat, he saw that it wasn’t dawn as he was assuming, it was another evening.

He’d lost count of days for the first time in his life and he found himself more and more disoriented. He had to try to walk straight, for some reason. His head felt like it almost wasn’t there, sight felt unreliable. And then it hit him - a fragrance. Nothing he’d call delicious when he was a child. But right now, this was the most exquisite aroma in the world - someone around this strange place is making seaweed soup… more specifically, Miyeok Guk. For reasons beyond his understanding at that moment, his feet led him towards the aroma.

When he finally reached the source of the fragrance, Namjoon could recognise that he wasn’t in a proper place… one with walls made of material that is not cloth or tarp or whatever this weird mesh of materials was. That’s the last thing he thought before collapsing in the not-proper place.The fact that Namjoon could think, that he could still process thought, was a marvel in itself because he had been hungry for three days now. It was almost like his body had brought him to a place of food. Unfortunately, that place was a hippie camp by the side of a road.

When Namjoon came to, he saw a beautiful young woman with porcelain skin and flame-coloured hair and deep set green eyes leaning over him. When she saw him opening his eyes, she greeted him, “Annyeonghasseo.” Namjoon was horrified - and only a little bit at her pronunciation of Korean. His mind was telling him he was either dead or hallucinating because the white girl seemed to be speaking Korean to him. That’s when he heard the person who was teaching her. Someone with a sweeter, deep voice laughed a mousy laugh and spoke in perfect Korean, “She’s still beginning but she’ll learn fast… how are you feeling?”

Namjoon sat up and the girl with the orange hair gave him some room. He wasn’t in the hippie camp anymore. This was a place with proper walls but judging from the abundance of incense sticks and dreamcatchers and windchimes, he was still in hippie company. The aroma was a bit different now but he instantly caught the familiar kimchi smells of home here too. There was also daylight.

Namjoon forgot about his troubles just for a second as he stared at the face of the man approaching him. This man was the most attractive person he had ever seen in real life. He was miles and miles more beautiful than the green-eyed girl. Who now had her arms around the demi god with the broadest shoulders and gave a brief peck to the most gorgeous lips known to mankind.

He realised, for the first time, what Brishti meant when she spoke about sexuality as being a spectrum. The thought about Brishti brought back all the memories and the most recent incident. He felt the weight of his actions on his heart again. The gorgeous man finally introduced himself, “I’m Jin… well, Kim Seokjin to you. Are you feeling better?”

“I’m confused… but yes, I feel better. Did you-”

“You collapsed… but we woke you up with an onion. Then you ate. Why did you let yourself go that hungry… you don’t seem poor.” Seokjin smiled.

“I’m- thank you so much, Seokjin-ssi” Namjoon bowed low as he thanked Seokjin in Korean.

“Ahhh no need to be so formal. Call me Jin.” Seokjin said, trying to put Namjoon at ease. He could see his compatriot was troubled. “Come on, I’ve made kimchijeon… Tell me what happened.”

Over food that wasn’t his favourite and yet distinctly belonged to his home tastes, Namjoon spoke to Jin, about his troubles. Some people have a presence that is disarming, that seems to sound a homing beacon. They break down guards that were built up for years. Jin was that person for Namjoon. When he began speaking, he didn’t start with Park Jimin & the discrimination case. He didn’t even begin with Brishti. He began to talk about how excited he was to come home to show his mother the poem he wrote… that was going to be read aloud to the whole school. Even he was surprised by his own story.

The two men walked along the Thames, reminiscing about their own river, Han. This is where Namjoon recalled another river… the Ganga. He told Jin how Brishti spoke about it. “She… She said the Ganga floods and destroys during the rains, that she is furious and still, the people whose homes she has destroyed, they call Ganga their mother… They still worship her. That’s where she comes from… a place that worships the forest and the river. That’s what she did for me too… She saw me beyond the word ‘husband’... beyond the word, ‘man’... even though she is so afraid of men. I saw her fear when she spoke about the men in her life and then… instead of loving her… I--” Namjoon’s voice cracked. Jin’s silence soothed him. Namjoon wondered aloud if breaking a mirror could break his Self. Because that’s what he wanted to do.

Jin listened and repeated Namjoon’s speech to himself, with only one addition - Kindness. In Jin’s retelling, Namjoon was a poet who was being poisoned from not writing, a soft heart stuck in a thorny system. Jin knew how that felt.

The two men spoke about the burden of responsibility and making family proud. Jin had felt a deep stab in his heart when his mother had been quiet around her friends bragging about their sons. Both men spoke about the different paths they took from that feeling of being a disappointment - Namjoon did everything he could to please them while Jin did everything he could to please himself. They were reflections of each other in their experience of the abyss that the compulsion of “Being a Good ManTM ” had thrown them in; Seemingly, stuck in a bad advertisement of what it means to be masculine - either stable, responsible or rough, careless - and never, ever, feeling. They laughed about their own performances of masculinity until tears streamed down their eyes;

Eyes swollen from sleeping so much, hair unwashed & frizzy, Namjoon laughed heartily until he stopped. Until he said, in his native tongue, “I never told anyone this… I left my country because I was angry… I would have snapped in half, if I had to bow any more. It wasn’t a sign of respect anymore for me… bowing was breaking my spine…”

Jin understood what Namjoon meant. He saw a man who tried to escape but got trapped in a wider, more punishing trap. Namjoon went on, his words thick with rage poured out like lava, “And now, the one thing, the only person who saw me with loving eyes… I had the audacity to lay a hand on her… I’m so… angry… I want to cut off my hands and… and I can’t even do that…”

Jin felt Namjoon’s blistering tears fall from his own eyes. Neither of their tears were tears of laughter anymore. He took a deep breath, wiped his tears off and said, “Namjoon-ah,

They spoke about how their paths could have criss-crossed a thousand times before they finally did - Namjoon was the lost wanderer and Jin the young man that had finally found his own path - using his golden face and voice to protest the injustice being wrought over the Vietnam War. That’s what Jin was doing in the hippie tent in South Kensington, by the Embassy of South Korea. From their own personal struggles, the two men spoke about the collective struggles that the youth of South Korea was facing, how it was such a gross miscarriage of justice that Korean men were sent over to either murder or be murdered by their asian brothers in Vietnam.

What had begun as Korean Spiced Pancakes, went on to chips and ale in a local pub and ended back at Jin & Emma’s free-loving abode. At the end of the night, Namjoon was smiling again. As they said their goodnights, Namjoon made Jin smile wide when he said, “Thank you, Jin-Hyung.”

And so it happened, that within the span of a day, a stranger who belonged to his home land, became a brother.

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