Chapter Text
Jackson hosts one of his parties at least once a month. Twice during exam season with the excuse to help get everyone to relax. Because… by his warped sense of logic, it makes perfect sense for people to get wasted in between their finals. But what’s even more alarming is the magnitude of people who actually show up.
For the entirety of the three years that Namjoon has been roommates with Jackson, he’s never once been keen on these parties before. Too much people, too much noise, too much shit to clean up afterwards. Too much everything ! Namjoon tries to wiggle his way out of the ordeal every time, making up some far-fetched excuse to stay over at someone else’s place, even resorting to going back home over the weekends on some occasions.
So when Hoseok tells him to make his move on Jimin at Jackson’s party that weekend, he’s equal parts terrified and excited. For one, he doesn’t know how he’s going to go about it all— how is he supposed to flirt with Jimin when he’s too shy to even approach him by himself? And two, Namjoon doesn’t dance at all, unless you count awkwardly vibrating in one place and occasionally flailing his arms about as dance. Yeah, he’s going to make a fool out of himself in front of Jimin, who isn’t just his crush but also a fucking dance prodigy.
But Hoseok will not hear any of Namjoon’s excuses, giving Namjoon pep talks all through the week, low murmurs during classes— “Jimin likes smart guys. You’re a smart guy, Joonie. You got this.” — to sending him weird stickers on KKT at odd hours of the night— Namjoon’s favourite (?) is a sticker of a shiba inu eating a crab with a “Hwaiting” written on top, although he doesn’t really get what it’s supposed to signify— to telling him what to wear and what perfumes to use— turns out Jimin likes citrusy scents so Namjoon ends up getting a nice lemon deodorant. All in all, Hoseok is very thorough in his job as a wingman. And honestly, it’s melting away Namjoon’s nervousness a little, making him a tad bit more confident.
So that’s the general gist of events leading to the present. The present being the day of the big event. This is the first time Namjoon is actively looking forward to one of Jackson’s parties. So much so that he gets all dressed up a whole hour before Jackson even wakes up. In his best pair of jeans and a grey tank top with a plaid shirt jacket. Jackson gives him a concerned look, but Namjoon hardly even notices. His chest is tight, little butterflies fluttering about in his stomach at the thought of what’s going to happen in an hour or two. He should ask Hoseok if he looks okay when he arrives, and if his breath smells fine. Everything needs to be perfect for tonight. For Jimin.
It’s around 10 pm when Jimin finally arrives. Namjoon’s been standing guard by the window, watching like a hawk for Jimin to show up. When he finally does, Namjoon makes a high pitched sound, glad that the house music is loud enough to drown it. Leaping to get to the door, his heart jumps up into his throat and settles there in a lump. Swinging the door open, he puts on his best smile, cursing inwardly as it wobbles when he comes face to face with Jimin.
“Hi hyung,” Jimin says, eyes crinkling so prettily that it hurts Namjoon almost physically. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Yeah— of course— no problem,” Namjoon stutters out, feeling at a loss for words at their proximity. It’s hard to form coherent sentences when Jimin is smiling— smiling at Namjoon . He’s in a sleeveless top and leather pants, silver eyeshadow sparkling like little stars and beckoning Namjoon with a celestial pull. “Glad you could make it, Jimin,” Namjoon finishes awkwardly.
Jimin giggles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He looks like he’s about to say something but he’s interrupted when Jackson suddenly enters the picture, pouncing on Namjoon and knocking the air out of his lungs. With a low whistle, Jackson wraps his arms around Namjoon’s shoulder and tucks his head into the nook of his neck. “What’s this, what’s this? Park Jimin-ssi, you’re friends with my little rap monster Namjoon bae?”
How on brand of Jackson to be the cause of Namjoon’s constant mortification. Of course, he’d seize every single fucking opportunity to embarrass Namjoon. Of fucking course he would. Namjoon glowers, wriggling to free himself from Jackson’s tight grip. After a second, Jackson peels himself off Namjoon’s back and bounces forward to grab Jimin’s arm. “Come on in, Jimin bro. You’re gonna love the punch. It has vodka!”
With a helpless squeak, Jimin gets dragged inside by Jackson. He flashes a panicked smile at Namjoon, waving and mouthing “see you later, hyung” before leaving him at the door. Namjoon’s shoulders slump dejectedly, hand clenching on the doorknob tight enough for his knuckles to go white, before he sighs wistfully. It’s too bad Jackson’s got to Jimin already. But at least, Jimin’s only just got here. The night is still young and full of opportunities for Namjoon to make his move.
“What’re you spacing out for, lover boy?”
A sudden playful squeeze of his ass makes Namjoon yelp, eyes nearly popping out as his side hits the wall. “What the fuck—” Namjoon glares, whipping his head around only to come face to face with a smirking Jung Hoseok. Namjoon has a litany of curses at the tip of his tongue, but the words dissolve into a garbled noise as he takes in Hoseok’s appearance. Oversized white t-shirt and the smallest neon green shorts that Namjoon has ever seen in his life. His mouth dries up and his eyes zero in on Hoseok’s tan thighs, lean and corded with muscle; a dancer’s thighs.
“Stop drooling at my legs, you perv,” Hoseok says with a snort, reaching out and tapping Namjoon’s jaw. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” Hoseok grabs onto Namjoon’s shoulders and starts pushing him in, kicking the door shut with his feet and pausing to look around once he’s stepped across the threshold. “Now, where did Jimin head off to?”
They follow the music and make their way into the living room, immediately spotting Jimin and Jackson and some others on the dance floor, swaying to the beat. Namjoon salivates at the scene— Jimin’s doing small body rolls, head thrown back, tongue swiping across his lip seductively, hands cascading elegantly down his body and making Namjoon wish they were his hands instead.
“Go dance with him,” Hoseok leans in and whispers in his ear. “There’s such a good mood going on, Joon. Go grind against his ass or something.”
“Good god, I’m not going to grind against his ass, Hoseok!” Namjoon looks at Hoseok like he’s grown two horns. Which he probably has already, albeit invisible; Namjoon swears Hoseok must be a demon in human form.
“Hoseok, stop!” Namjoon hisses out, grabbing Hoseok’s wrist, immediately loosening his grip when he gauges how thin it is, fragile like it’s going to snap if he applies too much force. “Hoseok, I can’t— I can’t dance.”
“‘Course you can,” Hoseok says, but he stops forcing Namjoon, freezing in the middle of the floor and turning to fix him with a disappointed pout. “It’s not that hard, Joonie. Just let your body follow the beat.”
“Yeah, no. You don’t wanna see that.” Namjoon chuckles without any real mirth, sub-consciously rubbing his thumb against the pulse point in Hoseok’s wrist, breath evening out as he lets the steady beat of the pulse resonate against his skin. “I’m serious, Hoseok. Dancing isn’t really my scene. I’m just gonna dip…” He glances back at where Jimin’s throwing his head back and becoming one with the music. With a wistful sigh, Namjoon starts taking a step back, ready to leave. “I’m just gonna get some punch and call it a night.”
To his surprise, Hoseok stops him with a firm hold on his shoulders, making him reel back in surprise, his own hands falling almost automatically down to Hoseok’s hips and latching on. He looks at Hoseok, blinking in confusion as Hoseok starts to sway from side to side, his hips moving in tune to the bass sound booming around them. What happens next is unexpected. As if by clockwork, Namjoon mirrors Hoseok’s motion, hands still anchored against Hoseok’s hips as he follows Hoseok, moving in resonance to the beat. Namjoon’s shoulders relax and his eyelids lower, a silent sigh spilling into the air. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, rooted to the spot, rocking on their heels and swaying to the music. But by the time Hoseok speaks, there’s already a small crowd around them, the party now in full swing.
“See? You’re not that bad— pretty fucking decent actually,” Hoseok says with a wide grin, bringing Namjoon out of his stupor. “Dancing isn’t about fancy moves and elaborate routines. It’s all about having fun.” And then, Hoseok’s stepping back, slow and deliberate. It’s funny the way Namjoon’s body instantly follows him, leaning into his space as if wanting nothing more than to keep dancing with him, to keep holding him for the rest of the night.
“Now, let’s go find Jiminie so you can practice what I just showed you on him.” Hoseok looks around, eyes widening as he zeroes in on something across the room. “Damn it, I think he’s leaving.” Hoseok jerks his head down and takes a look at his watch, frowning as he grumbles under his breath. He groans out loud, a guttural sound of disappointment. “Fuck! He’s got a submission tonight in about an hour, so he’s probably leaving early.” He turns towards Namjoon with an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry, Joon. It completely slipped my mind. Next time for sure. Ugh…” Hoseok shakes his head violently, crossing his hands across his chest and pouting. “Fuck it,” he murmurs, throwing his hands up in the air and starting to walk away from Namjoon. “Gonna get us both some punch.”
So saying, Hoseok sprints towards the table at the other end of the room. All the while, Namjoon simply continues to stand where he is, frozen in place, lips parted, eyes glistening. They’re playing a soft song now, tasteful electronic beats weaving itself between a ballad. With a startling clarity, Namjoon realises that he wants to dance to this song. He wants to dance to this song— but not with Jimin.
Later when he’s chugging down the remainder of the now lukewarm punch with Hoseok and Jackson, watching the people file out of his apartment, Namjoon will blame the alcohol on the warm buzz beneath his skin, vehemently shutting down the voice in his head that yearns to dance with Hoseok.
***
The look on Namjoon's face is priceless as he hovers over Hoseok and gapes at the screen.
"You want me to take Jimin on a date?" Namjoon whispers, even though it's just the two of them in Hoseok’s apartment. "Isn't that going too fast?"
"Hm… What’s that proverb again? Strike while the booty is still hot?" Hoseok whistles, clicking on what looks like a horror movie. The screen suddenly pops up with the poster of a few dozen zombies chasing a family of white people. Hoseok winces at the picture, before promptly scrolling down to check the timings.
"It's ‘ strike while the iron is still hot’ , wise guy." Namjoon coughs to hide the way his lips curl up anyway. "You really think this is a good idea, Hoseok?"
"Relax, Joonie," Hoseok says absentmindedly as he makes the booking. "Remember how Jimin said he wanted to take a break? Two birds with one stone. You're gonna suggest that the three of us watch this rad new flick, and Jimin's gonna say yes 'cause— well, he’s just gonna, duh. But when the day comes…" Hoseok turns around and smiles deviously, all teeth, terribly devious but also somehow managing to look quite pretty to Namjoon— wait, what? "When it's d-day, I'm gonna ditch and you can smash him in the back row of the movie theater."
"I'm not smashing anything!" Namjoon shouts, appalled by Hoseok's suggestiveness. "I'm not having sex in the fucking cinema hall. That's unhygienic as hell, ew." Hoseok rolls his eyes at that, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. Namjoon frowns, before scratching his head, cheeks flushing softly. "It'd be kinda nice to hold his hand though…"
"Are you a fucking virgin or what? From now on, I swear I’m gonna call you Kim Virjoon—"
"Shut up! I’m not a virgin!" Namjoon coughs out, slapping Hoseok's back and scowling as Hoseok bursts into laughter; it's rambunctious and Hoseok's whole body shakes with the force of his guffaws. Namjoon wants to stay mad, he wants to keep glaring. But he physically can not. It's odd the way Hoseok makes him lower his guard. They'd never even talked much before, but right now, there's a kind of intimacy between them that Namjoon doesn’t think he’s ever felt with anyone else before. It’s easy, comforting. But also oddly unsettling.
When Namjoon leaves Hoseok's place that night, there's a pit in his stomach that feels a lot like loneliness. During the walk back home, it feels as if he's on autopilot. A dozen thoughts swim around in his head. But for some reason, he doesn't dwell much on Jimin and how their date will turn out— not at all, really. No, he's more fixated on planning it out. Specifically, with Hoseok.
The street lights flicker as Namjoon drags his feet forward and he wonders what kind of movies Hoseok likes to watch.
***
It's ironic that things would turn out the way they do. Hoseok had chosen the movie precisely so that Jimin would be frightened into being “protected” by Namjoon, a rom com stereotype that (according to Hoseok) is guaranteed to work in real life too. That’s why it’s so funny when Jimin ends up cancelling, unable to make it due to a last minute family get together. And now, Namjoon is stuck in the back row of the cinema with Hoseok, watching a zombie tear a middle aged man's head off in IMAX 3D.
"Remind me why I'm here again," Hoseok hisses through the gaps between his clenched teeth. A sudden ear splitting scream causes Hoseok to startle defensively. Namjoon looks at him with concern, taking note of the way his jaw is clenched tight, eyes flickering dangerously, brows knitted furiously together, forehead glistening with beads of sweat even in the cold air conditioned interior of the movie theatre.
Things only get more and more ridiculously gorey as the movie plays on. Midway through, Hoseok pulls his feet all the way up on the seat and folds his arms around his knees in a fetal position. Namjoon watches dumbfounded as Hoseok's shoulders shake in barely contained terror, his eyes wide and glistening, his lower lip wobbling dangerously.
"Are you scared?" Namjoon speaks right when there's a jump scare, making Hoseok jump in his seat, shifting towards Namjoon, hands digging into Namjoon's shoulders before relaxing their hold, only to grip the collar of his sweater pathetically.
"What– what makes you think that? What're you talking about, Joon?" Hoseok's voice wobbles, his act of confidence in vain. "I'm not scared of shit. Just— watch the fucking movie; you paid for it."
"Hmm," Namjoon hums in affirmation. He turns back to the movie, in spite of being far more interested in watching the boy beside him rather than the exaggerated carnage on screen. Namjoon glances at Hoseok from the corner of his eyes, taking in the almost comical look of terror on his face. He shouldn't find this amusing— and he definitely shouldn't find it endearing.
But he does.
Hoseok grunts when Namjoon slinks his arm around his shoulders, gently pulling him close. The armrest between them is retractable, so Namjoon tucks it back in, before nudging Hoseok closer— as close as physically possible. It doesn't take long before Namjoon has his arms wrapped all the way around Hoseok, tucking his head under his chin.
"What are you doing?" Hoseok says, but he isn't protesting in the slightest. Namjoon wonders if it's a subconscious move when Hoseok snuggles closer, sighing as he relaxes against Namjoon's chest. It feels good, holding Hoseok’s warm lithe frame in the cold movie hall. He’s like Namjoon’s personal body heater. With a chuckle, Namjoon leans into Hoseok’s neck.
"I don't see you complaining," Namjoon whispers, nuzzling his nose against the hair at Hoseok's nape. It smells like vanilla, which Namjoon likes. "Do you want me to stop, Hoseok?"
"No." The reply is fast, Hoseok's tone holding just a hint of embarrassment. "You can keep doing— whatever this is." Hoseok clears his throat, groaning in embarrassment and making Namjoon chuckle into his hair. "Stop laughing at me," he mutters.
"I'm not laughing at you," Namjoon says, but he gives himself away when he sniggers almost instantly. Hoseok groans, even as he shuffles closer. It's warm and comfortable and Namjoon should be watching the movie but truth be told, he’s not paying much attention.
"Well, I guess this is a bit like practice though, am I right?" Hoseok murmurs. Namjoon's smile slips right off his face at that, and he frowns in confusion. Hoseok's eyes shine with the light from the screen. "You know, Jimin hates horror flics more than I do. He nearly peed his pants when we watched The Ring this one time— it was hilarious. Anway, uh…" Hoseok clears his throat. "Now, you know what to do when you go on a date with him."
Oh.
Namjoon frowns, the warmth where Hoseok's back presses against his chest dissipating rapidly. That's right. This was supposed to be a date with Jimin. Not a date with Hoseok. Jimin's the one who's supposed to be huddling close to Namjoon. Not Hoseok. Heck, Namjoon doesn’t even like horror movies. He only agreed to this in order to humour Hoseok and get his shot with Jimin. In fact, this whole thing is a total waste of his time.
So then, why is it that Namjoon doesn't want the stupid movie to end? And worse… why is it that he’s really only watching Hoseok?
***
They haven't spoken a word to each other since the movie ended. Namjoon sighs, watching his breath fog up in the air. They walk back home in silence too, steps slow and lethargic. Things are suddenly awkward, maybe even a little bitter. Namjoon sighs, wondering why he feels so on edge all of a sudden.
"What's up with you, Joon?" Hoseok turns back to look at Namjoon, an eyebrow raised in question. "You look kinda constipated."
"Huh?" Namjoon scoffs. "Nothing's up at all," he says, even though it's definitely not nothing at all. "Just thinking about what you said. About Jimin. About how you guys used to watch movies together and stuff."
"Hmm?" Hoseok's watching him, studying his expression carefully. Then suddenly, his eyes widen almost comically wide, as if he's hit a discovery. "Wait… are you jealous?"
Namjoon blinks, taken aback by that. Wait what? Jealous? Why would he be jealous?
"Come to think of it, it must be weird hanging out with me when you know I used to date Jimin. Not to mention how we’re still roommates." Hoseok's looking at his feet, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans. "I didn't think about that before. Sorry, man."
It's weird listening to Hoseok apologise to him so sincerely. It's weirder that Namjoon doesn't feel jealous of Hoseok at all. In fact, he doesn't think he's ever been jealous of Hoseok in all the time they've spent together. Sure, Hoseok has mentioned his past with Jimin on more than one occasion and the picture he’s painted is vivid in Namjoon mind. But although Namjoon envies what they had, he’s never really felt envious of Hoseok for his past with Jimin. That’s something that oddly hasn’t even once crossed Namjoon’s mind.
"Um yeah… it's cool," Namjoon says, tone strained, rocking back on his heels as Hoseok's apartment comes into view, just a few blocks away. There's a sudden lump in Namjoon's throat, a heavy feeling of loss when he thinks about parting ways with Hoseok. Namjoon freezes in his path, blinking down at his feet in shock. Hold on a second… Why is he feeling so bummed out just because the night’s ended? Why does he feel a palpable pain in his chest at the thought of saying goodbye to Hoseok? What the hell does all of this even mean—?
Oh god no—
"What's wrong, Joonie?" Hoseok's voice is laced with concern, his hands tugging gently at Namjoon's arms. Hoseok has his head cocked to the side, eyes blinking prettily. He looks concerned, grip tight, as if he’s worried about Namjoon… and that thought makes little butterflies flutter in Namjoon's stomach.
Oh god oh god oh god—
"Nah, it's nothing," Namjoon forces his chin up, peeling Hoseok's hands off his sleeves. He subconsciously intertwines their hands together, the lump in his throat solidifying when Hoseok grips him back. "Really, it’s… it’s nothing, Hoseok."
They stop in front of the entrance, hand in hand. The air is opaque, and it's more than just the cold climate. Namjoon wonders when things between them rocked off balance this way. Ah fuck, everything’s turning into a big fat mess.
"Hey?" Hoseok's voice is raspy, dripping with an emotion Namjoon can not quite decipher. “Look at me.”
"Yeah," Namjoon breathes, forcing a smile on his face and turning towards Hoseok in question. "What's up, Hoseok-ah?"
In a split second, Namjoon's smile drops completely from his face, lips parting in a gasp as Hoseok leans up to press their lips together. The soft brush of their lips takes Namjoon's breath away, a live wire sparking up where they touch, ascertaining his worst fears. Hoseok's lips are warm, the skin rough no doubt due to how much he worried them with his teeth. But they still manage to slot perfectly against Namjoon's. Like they belong there, mashed up against Namjoon’s lips. Forever.
A soft moan breaks the silence between them, but Namjoon doesn't have the bare minimum brain capacity to identify the sound as coming from his own treacherous lips. It’s wretched and depraved, broken but begging for more— for whatever this is, even if it's something he's sure is going to break him so deliciously. But he's aching for it. He's aching… for Hoseok.
Before Namjoon even knows it, he's already reaching down, hands digging into Hoseok’s nape and pulling him closer. Hoseok gasps, lips parting open, an invitation for Namjoon to dive his tongue in. The inside of Hoseok's mouth is sweet, like vanilla— Namjoon wonders if everything else about Hoseok tastes like vanilla too.
"Hoseok," Namjoon whispers, nipping into his lips. "God, you taste so fucking good on my tongue—"
And just like that, the spell is broken and Hoseok pulls away. He presses his fingers to his lips— they're red and glossy, his lower lip bruised where Namjoon tugged it with his teeth. Hoseok isn't looking at Namjoon, he isn't looking at anything. His eyes are vacant and clouded as he turns and makes to walk away.
Namjoon watches his back, heart pounding, lips still burning from the kiss. There's a ringing in his ears and an emptiness in his chest. He already knows the answer to the question hanging unspoken in the air, the question that neither of them is going to voice out.
"That was practice too." Hoseok stops in his tracks. Namjoon's eyes widen when he notices that Hoseok's shoulders are shaking, much the same way as they were in the movie theatre. But this time for different reasons. "Jimin doesn't like it so rough though," Hoseok's voice cracks at the last word, and he tries to mask it as a chuckle. Namjoon doesn’t think he does a very convincing job though. Nonetheless, Hoseok puts on a cheerful smile. "G'night, Joonie."
With that, Hoseok breaks into a sprint and disappears into his apartment. Leaving Namjoon to stare into the night, his head light and heart heavy.
To Be Continued