The Seven Passengers (BTSxTitanic)

Chapter 11: Seokjin

We stand in front of a stained glass window with a design of the Titanic sailing on smooth waters. I wonder what he sees that I don't, Namjoon has been staring at it for more than a minute in silence. The colors are vibrant and the sun creeps up behind, casting a rainbow of reflection.

"Are you going to take a picture?" I whisper with a short chuckle. Namjoon smiles in response.

"There are certain times when a picture cannot hold the beauty of something as magnificent as this. Sometimes, beauty this enchanting should belong where it is and attention will come to it," he smiles. "Don't you agree?"

I nod. Honestly, I was never the type to pay attention to art. Father would design while I would entertain guests with stories I could come up with on the spot; not too outrageous, but not too dull. The artist in me was limited to fiction in my mind, nothing I could put down on paper made any sense.

"Well, we have toured around the entire first class of the ship, the crystal dining room, and the smoke room, but I still have yet to find out the details of my company," Namjoon says. His dimples showing as his lips curve into a wider smile.

"You already are aware of my status, my family, and where I stand. There's not much to me other than my fortune. If you're seeking anymore from me, I'm sorry to disappoint." I start walking past him when my path is blocked. He stands in front of me, willing me to look in his dark eyes that shine in the sun, just like a stained glass window.

"Seokjin," he starts. My name has never sounded so different before. "If we are to be acquaintances, you should know I never judge a person based on where their wealth lies. I see you as an equal to me. We are human, after all, not objects."

He backs away to let me through, but my feet are planted. We are equal? No. No, that isn't right. I am above him. I have more than him. If it wasn't for our meeting, he would have never seen the artwork of this ship. He should be thanking me, not giving me a humanities lesson.

"Mr. Kim Namjoon, as pleasant as this day tour has been, I must object. We are not, and never will be equals. Our status is as wide as this ship and that will never change."

I expected him to retaliate as people have done when they are countered. I expected him to raise his voice, or at the very least laugh it off with a poisonous stare. Instead, Namjoon nodded. He kept my gaze and even shared a small smile, that same dimple showing again.

"Maybe we'll never be equals, but we can be friends," he says softly. I notice the tiny step he takes closer to me. "I would like to know you more if that's not too forward to say."

Just before I could release my pressed lips to confirm I would enjoy his company, the door to the smoke room opens and is held open for Father and Captain Smith. The two hold lighted cigars in their hands and stroll to the two of us.

"Why Seokjin," Father laughs one of his rehearsed laughs, "what are you doing here along with your friend?"

I remember how I must act: shoulders back, straight posture, a fake smile. I greet them both and introduce Namjoon to Captain Smith and Father, who seems less than pleased. "I was showing him around the Titanic, a lovely ship, sir."

Captain Smith smirks. That seems to have grabbed his ego. "Yes, she is my prized possession."

"Seokjin," Father says in a hushed tone, "find the boy before dinner. He must be seated by the time we start this evening."

The boy is Jungkook. I am reminded of how easily he slipped through my grasp last night. How easily it could have been for him to be me running away last night. Why did I stay put again?

Captain Smith tilts his head. "Will you be joining us for dinner, young man?" he asks Namjoon. I look to him, then to Father. He watches me with careful consideration. I frown at him.

"Yes, he will be accompanying me tonight. He is a journalist for the New York Times and would love to interview you if that isn't too much to ask," I feign ignorance.

Captain Smith glances at us, then accepts. He excuses himself to put out his cigar and while he leaves, I catch Father's glare. I excuse myself and Namjoon, exiting the backdoor before Father could say another word.

Once we are outside, Namjoon stops me. "Why did you lie? I'm not a writer for the New York Times."

"Not yet, but maybe you will be," I say. He turns his gaze from me. "Look, I only wanted to have you for the evening. They don't need to know all the details anyway."

"Those details matter to me, Seokjin." His tone is level, but I can see he's hurt. "I'm going back to my cabin to change. I'll be there at dinner, I promise."

And just like that, he's gone.

Just like that, I'm left alone again.