Monday the 29th, Oct 2018.

Jin woke up to the alarm croaking by his bedside. He groaned and sat up, his hands flying to rub his eyes awake. He made a quick glance at his phone.

It was 5am.

He shook his head and turned the other way, laying down onto the bed and closing eyes. Soon again, his soft snores filled only the space closest to him.

Time enough to bake a small loaf passed, and then again, Jin was sitting up and running his fingers over his eyes.

He glanced at the ringing phone. It was Taehyung.

He stared at the device until the ringing stopped, all the while intermittently running a hand through his dark hair.

He yawned.

Sleep didn't feel like it was going to be enjoyable anymore if he tried falling back into it, and so he sat up. He pulled himself out of bed and into the shower.

His nose was fine, his throat didn't feel irritable, his body wasn't doubling over from the cold and he didn't have a headache making its mark at the side of his skull.

Hope took up the entirety of his heart, marching in and sitting determinedly.

Jin sat on a couch gobbling his spicy noodles, without the chicken (he hadn't thought of ordering) and scrolled his phone for the day's schedule. His notepad was filled with carefully made jottings, dating through to the end of the week.

Jin smiled. It looked like he'd been well prepared for.

He slurped another intake of noodles—thankful he liked them spicy.

At 8:05am, Jin took his bag up and slipped out the door, ready to leave for class. Not before grabbing a handful of bonbons and shoving them—some into his jacket pockets, and the others into one of the compartments in his slightly baggy jeans.

He hadn't made the bed, nor had he washed the utensils laced with ramen sauce.

--

Taehyung and Namjoon sat in their usual space, having arrived together over twenty minutes before. Seokjin was taking a while, and the two had fallen into bickering conversation.

'You know it takes over 5,000 silk worms to make one kimono? A bunch of murderers ya'll are, promoting that garbage. That's insect abuse. Whereas cotton; just four plants are enough to make a shirt'.

Namjoon brought a hand to one side of his neck.

'Taehyung. You cannot compare a tiny shirt to one long past-your-knees flowing kimono.'

'Joon. You're an insect murderer. Admit the truth and deal with it.'

'You own a pair of silk pyjamas, Tae. You're a hypocrite'.

Taehyung froze. Then he thawed, a finger moving first before the rest of his body.

'You own about five hundred cotton flannels!'

Namjoon tsked. 'Replay that response in your head. Does it make any sense?'

Taehyung's eyes had tiny flames lit in them. 'I hate you so much'.

'You weren't saying that as you wolfed down my japchae last night.'

Taehyung placed a hand on his heart. 'Ugh. For japchae, I could tell a chest full of lies.'

'This is why you won't go to heaven when you die'.

'And you would make it? Pfft, you wouldn't even smell the front gate's brass lacquer.'

'And who said there was a gate? How do we know its not an open space lush garden?'

'Idiot. How then would the devil be kept away from sneaking back in anytime he wished?'

Namjoon stared behind Taehyung at something of new interest.

Taehyung followed his gaze, turning around.

'Hey', said Jin, waving a hand gently.

They stared at him.

Jin's heart thumped in his throat.

Seconds travelled in silence.

Taehyung gestured a hand toward the seat beside him. 'You're not going to sit?'

Jin nodded, taking the seat. 'Hi', he said again, a faint smile following.

'I called', Taehyung replied, scoffing. 'But you ignored'.

Jin shook his head. 'I didn't... ignore. I was just, well... yeah'.

Taehyung's gaze dove into Jin's. Jin coughed.

'Uh, Joon. Spare me some of your japchae next time', he said, and began unzipping his bag to rummage through.

Namjoon's eyes widened for a half a second. He exchanged a look with Taehyung, who appeared to share the same thoughts.

'No', Joon said, directing a confused gaze at Jin. 'I won't be giving you any japchae.'

Jin looked up from his bag, eyes wilting at the corners. 'Why not?'

Taehyung crossed his arms. 'You don't eat japchae. You hate glass noodles'.

Jin froze up. 'I... of course'.

Namjoon squinted, amused. 'And you're really sure your cold didn't mess with your brain?'

Taehyung nodded, arms still crossed.

'No no', Jin answered, his eyes crinkling. 'I'm fine now. It's as though I was never ill'.

'Well grand', Taehyung breathed, and he began to heave notes from his bag. 'Because you have notes from Friday to copy'.

Namjoon joined. 'They're quite verbose, too'.

Jin stuck his head through the opening of his bag and groaned.

Hope who?

--

'So you really cancelled it?'

Jin nodded slowly, before he turned to Taehyung. 'Yeah. I didn't think it was necessary anymore.'

Namjoon placed a hand on Jin's shoulder. 'He trusts his mum.'

Jin paused, then gave a small smile. 'I do.'

'You should have called me instead', Taehyung said to Jin, his eyes clouding in disappointment.

Namjoon jolted.
'He didn't call, I did!'

'Oh?'

'Yeah man.'

Jin chuckled at Joon's annoyed face. 'Dude it's not a competition'.

Taehyung scoffed. 'He never seems to get it'.

Namjoon scowled.

Jin smiled.

Taehyung stared the raven haired square in the face. Then he flipped his notebook open. 'It's fine once you're fine.'

Jin smiled again. 'I'm fine'.

Namjoon had an unnecessarily sympathetic look on. He crossed his hands softly over his chest. 'I'm fine too.'

Taehyung took his pen above the lines of his page to begin writing, but stopped to give Joon a blank stare. 'Nobody asked.'

Namjoon sneered. 'Yeah, nobody asked you to respond.'

Tae snapped his gaze to his notebook, fingers gripped tightly around his pen. Jin locked his snicker behind his cupped hands.

They were in another hall for their last lecture. It was going to begin in about five minutes from then. The boys had their materials ready and waiting. No matter how much they had fun being film majors, once it was Monday, they couldn't stop themselves from wishing the class a quick ending. Who wanted a 5-7pm class anyway?

Taehyung looked up from his book and spoke again, after all the smoke from their little squabble seemed to have fully dissipated.

'I'm adding squash to the grocery list, Joon. Orange or pineapple?'

Jin anticipated the brunet's answer.

Namjoon sighed and dropped his head unto the table.

'It doesn't matter which', he said, twirling his pen between his fingers. His mouth was down in a frown.

Taehyung raised a brow at him.

'Is something the matter, buddy?'

Namjoon's eyes shifted to look at his friend. He didn't stop twirling the pen.

'I'm about to start procrastinating again'.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. 'What's new?'

Jin grinned.

Namjoon groaned.

'What's this about exactly?' Tae asked, dropping his pen and closing it off in his notebook to fully listen.

Namjoon dropped his pen unto the table and raised his head.

'Um... its just my photography course—they dished out projects pretty early, what with November coming and the finals knocking at the door...' He looked at Taehyung, wanting to know if he was still listening.

Taehyung made a gesture for him to go on.

Namjoon sighed. 'I just... I just don't know what to do yet—I have to choose a concept to work with and I can't think of something specific. I was going to ask Yoongi to help with ideas; he's really good at stuff like that... but still.' He lifted his head from the table and waved his hands dismissively. 'It's nothing much—just the pressure of wanting to create something worthy enough, you know?'

Jin nodded, understanding.

Taehyung locked eyes with the brunet. 'I believe in you', he said, and pat him on the back.

Namjoon gave him a blank look. 'That just adds in truck loads of pressure... you telling me you know I'll do good...' He sighed. Then his face carried a look of determination. 'Tell me you know I'll do badly. Come on, say it'.

Jin and Tae glanced at each other.

'Joon', Jin began, looking pretty uncomfortable, 'I know you'll do... so so'.

Taehyung scoffed. 'Come on, Jin. Don't try sugar coating reality for him. Namjoon, you'll suck, I promise.'

Joon had a pitiful look on. 'I know you guys are faking, and now I'm extra tense because I know you mean exactly the opposite'. He began twirling his pen again. 'Thank you, either way. Don't worry, it'll go well. I hope'.

Taehyung smiled. 'You're Kim Namjoon. Anything you try at turns out great'.

Joon groaned loudly and let his head fall to the table.

'You just don't know when to stop, do you, Kim Taehyung?'

Jin snickered at Taehyung's apologetic face.

--

Lights waved over the bridge from miles away; licking up shadows, becoming rulers over the darkness and guardians to mankind. The wind ruled in tow; coursing through unseen paths in time, prancing about the visible, making itself known without a face.

Namjoon thought they weren't enough.

Not the wind, for it shook his tripod out of focus one too many times, and made sure he had to start the long exposure shots again.

The lights instead—they weren't enough to create the journey of reflection he so desired.

Namjoon sat on the sand, holding his tripod this time, as steady as he could, eyes past the river and beyond the rest of the visible skyline.

Arin had liked his photos. He'd felt good.

Mondays had the photojournalism club gather together to revise the last week and assign tasks for the next, while Fridays had them report the results of said tasks, where they discussed the whys and hows of their photos, and picked which ones would go on their weekly blog.

Namjoon's work had made it to that week's blog, and he'd been proud.

He wanted to do the best he could; not because he wanted to be the best at it, but rather because he felt it was necessary to tell the stories that people couldn't see; the ones in front of them that they couldn't tell, unless someone else pointed it out to them exactly.

Namjoon longed to be among those "someones".

So he sat at his favourite spot facing the Han River, trying his best to capture those lights he saw, those lights he liked, despite the relentless disagreement by the wind.

But long exposure couldn't work that way.

It needed complete stillness, perfect calm, the impossibility of a night without a brazen wind.

But when the wind ruled alongside those very wanted lights, who was the moon to say no?

Namjoon felt an itch on his shoulder. He hissed. The developing image in his camera was definitely spoilt.