The Seven Passengers (BTSxTitanic)

Chapter 15: Seokjin

 I'm exhausted after the stroll around the Titanic. The sights are the same as they were with Namjoon, if not a little more interesting. Lady Eleanor, as frail as she looks, is quite the talker. At least I can contribute to conversion as little as possible. I'm distracted anyway.

Last night I enjoyed the company of Namjoon, he was more intriguing than Captain Smith. He told us stories of his childhood, how he would run around in a great big field until he would tire himself out. I remember him telling us how he knows the pianist Min Yoongi and how he clapped louder than anyone when Yoongi and Park Jimin were done with their performance.

As Lady Eleanor and I head upstairs, I spot Jungkook sitting on a crate. I'm appalled for a second: how could he have the relaxation time while I have to entertain Lady Eleanor? Then I see what he's laughing at, or rather, with.

There's a man no less than Jungkook's age with dark curly hair that drops in front of his eyes and loose suspenders, a bit messy. I wonder if this is where he's been sneaking off to. Lady Eleanor does not seem to notice. Figures.

We end our tour with me kissing the top of her hand, giving my best smile and an empty promise of meeting again. As soon as she leaves, I let out a breath. She is a character, I will admit that. Just not the type of character that brings action. If anything, she brings boredom.

I rush back to the deck where Jungkook and his friend are still talking. They look so carefree. If I wasn't his brother, I would not have known Jungkook was in first class. The boy is lost in conversation, as are his eyes. It would take a fool not to see them staring at Jungkook.

As I stand to leave them be, I nearly bump into a figure walking in my direction. "I'm sorry," I quickly say before I realize who it is. "Oh, good morning Namjoon."

He returns a wide smile and a "good morning" as he steadies himself. In the crevice of his arm is a large book titled Utopia with small paper slipped into parts of the book.

"Light reading?" I ask.

He gives me the book. "Thomas More. He took the idea of creating Europe into a better world with no violence or wars, just peace," he says. "I guess a thing like that can only happen in books, right?"

I make a mental note to read the book once we land in New York as I hand it back to Namjoon. The tips of my fingers brush his and I flinch. His eyes meet mine. For a moment I think he's about to lean in closer when he clears his throat.

"Say, since you were the one who...claimed  I worked for the New York Times, would you mind giving me an interview?" he chuckles. I barely contain my bashfulness as he continues. "It won't be anything invading, I promise."

Namjoon gives me a dimpled smile and I'm already saying yes. I'm familiar with interviews, just give the people what they want. Say what they want to be said. That's all.

We decide to interview in the library, sitting by the stained glass window we saw yesterday. Ironic. Namjoon gets out a pen and a notepad and begins scribbling down the date, time, and my name in pretty cursive.

"Let's begin. Tell me your favorite childhood memory."

I wait for something. Is this his question? Or is this a distraction to ask about the Hope Diamond? I practically saw his face perk up in interest last night, something I still am wary of bringing up. Still, I take a moment to think back.

There's not much I have to go through in my childhood memories. As a boy I either followed Father around or stayed in my room, looking out a large window and watching the birds fly away. I have no artistic sense in me, which put me in the useless box. The only person who thought differently was my grandfather.