Working Theory

Chapter 1

Namjoon looked himself over in the mirror, intending it to be the last time. He first smoothed out his black dress shirt, refastening the third button from the top (which he had undone and redone several times over,) before running his fingers again through his gel-styled hair. He popped on his thick, horned-rimmed glasses, then pulled them off again. It had been forever since he had worn contacts. These days, all he wore was glasses. They were quick and convenient, and had basically become a part of him as recognizable as a limb. But, tonight, he wasn't going to be the "him" of today. Tonight, Namjoon was trying to remember the "him" of yesterday... well, the him of nearly two years ago.

He looked at the button of his shirt again, and let out a small sniff as he reached to undo it once more. He pulled at the collar a touch, revealing the hint of the tattoo which danced over his right peck and slithered delicately up his neck, before it densely packed the sleeve of his arm in swirls of ink. Another relic of his former self.

With an unsure shrug to his reflection, he turned around to face his bedroom and stuck out his arms.

"How do I look?" he asked, looking down to his son, Alon, who had been sitting quietly on his bedroom floor, playing with a spatula which - amidst all the primary coloured toys he owned which rang irritatingly loud with bells and beads - was fortunately his most prized possession.

The infant looked up to his dad, a slightly confused look on his face, since fifteen-month olds didn't quite understand questions about bar-hopping attire.

"Whatcha doing over there, buddy?" Namjoon dropped his arms, changing the subject to something his son could better understand.

Alon responded with a string of noises that resembled words. To those who didn't know him, it sounded like nothing but jibberish, but Namjoon understood him perfectly. Alon was recounting an experience he had at daycare that day, in which the kids were asked to decorate cookies with sprinkles and tubes of colorful icing. Namjoon smiled with pride at how irresistibly cute his kid was, and noted that the spatula and the thick blocks of legos in front of him had become some sort of allusion to the obviously impactful baking experience.

"Are you excited to see Grandma?" Namjoon asked, checking his watch. He told his mother to arrive at seven, and it was only half past six. But knowing his mother, the doorbell would be ringing at any moment. That is if she extended him the courtesy of ringing the doorbell at all.

Alon mumbled his answer, another haphazard response that involved cookies and his grandma, which led to another chuckle from Namjoon.

As if the call of her name was an incantation, Namjoon heard a car pull up his driveway. He sauntered across the room and peered out the window to the yard, immediately recognizing his mother's silver buick parked in front of his front porch. He returned to Alon, reaching down and scooping him up onto his hip, then made his way out of the room and down the stairs.

"There's my peanut," Namjoon's mother cooed as she reached her arms out for Alon, not even bothering to pull off her boots. "Oh, you're all bathed already!"

Namjoon tried not to roll his eyes at her obviously disappointed tone. He knew she liked to bath Alon, and he could understand why. Although bath time usually resulted in an impromptu half-shower and half-laundry wash of his own from the sheer amount of splashing Alon did, it was just such a pure feeling to watch someone so innocent play in water like it was a luxury and not a necessity. It was delightful to swaddle a giggling child in a towel and airplane them into their bedroom, and even though it was a battle to get him into a new diaper and a clean onesie, it was a battle that was all to endearing to not enjoy. Namjoon could admit, however, that after a near year and a half of this charade, the novelty had worn off a bit - but he tried to remind himself to enjoy those moments as much as possible, since one day they would be over. Sure, he could have waited for his mother to arrive, and let her basque in the joy of it all, but he had work so hard for so long to establish a strict bed time routine with his son, that he feared postponing bath time by an hour would only postpone bedtime. And postponing bedtime meant his parents would wake up tomorrow morning with a bear on their hands - and he'd be called in with a probable hangover to deal with it. Also, he wanted to show his parents that he indeed had everything under control in the parenting department. After everything that had happened with Leah, and everything that ensued after he became a full-time single father, he couldn't help but feel the eyes of the world narrowed at him and waiting for him to make an unforgivable mistake.