Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The air is different but the same in the ways that matter; chill hangs in the air and frost settles on the windows of apartments in Seoul. Namjoon shoves his hands back into the pockets of his coat and thanks his past self for remembering to carry gloves.

The floor is relatively empty when he walks in, warm a/c air blowing onto him as the doors glide open. Three potted plants sit on the windowsill of his office, leaves fluttering under the vent. Namjoon smiles while he sheds his coat - he tries to water them in the morning everyday so he reaches for the pail and tips it forward, water flowing freely into the soil.

"Aigoo, you're growing so well, little ones. Did you have a good weekend?" Namjoon drops the pail and grabs the scissors on his table, carefully snipping a stray dead stem before sitting on his lounge chair. "I had a busy weekend. I thought I wouldn't do much other than some reading and editing for Professor Kang's manuscript-"

And well. Jimin had stood at his doorstep on Saturday night. He hadn’t expected it after the new year, when Jimin had given his family a deep bow and left for Seoul after a few days.

The elevator dings open and someone walks out, shoes clicking on the tiled flooring. It's early enough that the steady stream of workers won't come until later, when the caffeine in Namjoon's system really settles.

He likes to arrive before everyone else on Monday mornings, just so he can leave in time to get to Pilates class. The quiet time is an added advantage to talk out the unexpected craziness of the weekend.

"I know, I was as surprised. It was thundering down that day and there I was, ready to slump in my sofa for that new Thor movie, beer at the ready and fried chicken ordered and. I hear the buzzer, and I open the door to Jimin, of all people."

Namjoon shakes his head and moves on to watering the next plant.

"I don't think I've ever seen him this broken, little one. My heart was crushed just looking at him."

The image doesn't leave his mind; red-rimmed eyes, shivering fingers and soaked from head-to-toe. He recalls the suitcase behind Jimin, another hand tightly grasping the strap of his backpack.

Jimin's nervous little greeting. "Hey, hyung. I'm sorry I didn't call."

They stand at the threshold before a flip switches in Namjoon's mind. He needs to get Jimin out of the puddle he dawdles in before he catches something.

"Jimin-ah, what- what happened? Wait, no, come inside, first." Namjoon ushers him inside, hand coming off completely wet.

"Thanks."

"Are your- your suitcase got wet too?"

Jimin nods, standing stock-still in the entry way. "Yeah."

"Okay, come inside and get into the shower. You know where my clothes are, right?" Namjoon leads him into the bathroom, towels pulled. “Have a warm bath and I'll get some more rice delivered with chicken, how does that sound?"

Jimin gives him a half-smile, one that barely sees the corner of his lips and definitely not his eyes. "Yeah, uh. That's good."

Namjoon swallows. "We can- we can talk after. Let's get you warmed up first, huh? Can't have you falling ill."

He turns to leave but a soft hand on his wrist stops him.

"Hyung."

"Yeah?"

"Do you have beer?"

Namjoon blinks. Jimin hates beer. "Of course."

"That's great," Jimin shakes his arms, "I'd like some, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, uh. I have some wine too, from when Hoseok-ah was over."

"Even better. I'll shower now, hyung."

The bathroom door clicks closed softly and Namjoon is left staring at where Jimin's figure was. With a worried sigh, he turns to call the restaurant for a bigger order.

He's tidying up the stray sheets and papers on his coffee table by the time Jimin walks back into the living room, the suitcase of wet contents hung up to dry on the large line-rack on his balcony. Thankfully, they're only damp; Namjoon hopes they dry soon, despite the cold.

Jimin swims in the large shirt and drawstring pajamas that puddle around his feet; fingers lift up the pant legs and he sits on the opposite end of the sofa. His chin rests on one knee as the other dangles, a foot hanging a few inches from the floor.

"I was gonna make you some tea."

Jimin shakes his head. "No, thanks hyung. Do you mind if I have the beer?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Let me just get another one."

The sound of beer bottles clinking doesn't elicit any movement from Jimin. Namjoon opens both bottle caps, handing one to Jimin and making to cheers but the younger has already begun drinking; bottle tilted up and gulping swig after swig with no break.

Finally, the last of the beer is gone and he drops the bottle with a gasp. He turns to Namjoon.

"Do you mind if I have some more?" Jimin asks.

Wordlessly, he nods.

Jimin stands and rummages around the fridge before pulling out two more, held between his tiny fingers.

Namjoon can only watch as Jimin pulls off the cap with his teeth and drops it in the bin before gulping half of the second bottle.

"Jimin-ah..."

Jimin keeps his gaze maintained on Namjoon. "Yeah?"

It's only then that he realizes he has no idea what to say. The pace with which Jimin downs the second bottle is alarming; he knows he should say something but-

The anguish in Jimin's eyes is more devastating than he'd thought.

"Nothing, just wanted to say food should be here soon." Namjoon smiles, hoping Jimin might be tempted to smile back.

It doesn't come.

"What are we watching?"

"Oh. Just the new Thor movie, Ragnarok?"

"Oh," Jimin coughs and pops open the third bottle, "I haven't seen that one. Hyunwoo kept bitching that he wanted to watch it together even though he's not seen any of the Thor movies." He laughs emptily. "It's funny."

Namjoon bites his lip and waits. Should he directly ask Jimin what happened? Or should he wait for Jimin to talk about it himself? But then: He thinks of the little spot of sunlight on his cheek from weeks ago, suspiciously shaped like Jimin's lips.

"It ended," Jimin snaps his fingers, "just like that."

"Did he break up with you?" Namjoon finally asks.

"I'm not sure, hyung, actually." Jimin takes another swig of beer and smacks his lips. "The dishes weren't done, and it all spiraled from there."

He blinks. "The- the dishes weren't done?"

"Yeah." Jimin says with finality, as if it were self-explanatory.

"Jimin, I don't- "

Jimin sighs. "The dishes weren't done, even though they've been building all week and Hyunwoo had less hours than me at work and wouldn't do them even this morning. It's ridiculous that I'm coming home so late and the apartment stinks because he can't be bothered to clear dirty dishes. So I told him. Told him that I don't think we're working anymore."

Only light from a table-side lamp illuminates the room but even then, Namjoon can sense the frustration in Jimin's words, sees it in the angry twist of his eyebrows, the particular tilt in his head, the exasperated nails digging into his shin.

"I should've known- I should have known, we didn't even talk about the holidays, and I should have known-"

"-Jimin-"

"-he said okay. Let's break up."

And like that, the moment pulls off its veil.

"No fight, no argument. Absolutely nothing. And you wanna know what's worse?"

Namjoon waits again, this time with pained feelings in his chest.

"I said okay too. It's like," now, with the words out, the tears hug Jimin's lash line, the first escaping down his cheek, "like everything just drained out of me, hyung. I don't- I haven't ever felt so- so empty. Like I was nothing."

He wonders if the space between them means more than he thinks it does. He wishes he could whisk them away, into another world where Jimin isn't at his doorstep, soaked to the bone, or on his couch, crying over someone who doesn't appreciate Jimin how he deserves.

"So I packed up a suitcase and left. And I couldn't think of where to go and before I knew it, I was outside your apartment, asking you to buzz me in." Jimin frowns. "Always showing up, expecting you to take care of me as if you don't have your own life."

Jimin turns to him, all attention directed at Namjoon. "I'm sorry, hyung. Always here to burden you with me and my problems."

"Jimin-ah. How long have we known each other? You're not- fuck. That's not something I'd ever think about you."

"Still, hyung. I'm taking advantage of our friendship like this."

The worst part is that Jimin seems to genuinely believe it; as if Namjoon wouldn't prefer Jimin's company at any time. He doesn't know what to say, what to do- is it weird to hug Jimin now? Would he appreciate the physical contact, vulnerable from the breakup that he reels from?

Jimin has always been the most tactile person Namjoon has known, but it didn't mean he was always open to physical affection.

His question is answered for him when Jimin shuffles across and wraps his arms around Namjoon's waist, head tucked under his chin.

Namjoon freezes for a second before relaxing into the hold; his hand comes up to rub up and down Jimin's back, little strokes that he hopes soothe the younger. He feels every inch of his hands moving, painfully aware of the soft cotton of Namjoon’s t-shirt as Jimin breathes in and out, slow and steady. He’s not crying, not anymore - there is only fatigue laced into the deep exhales that Jimin lets out.

"Can I be selfish a little longer, hyung?"

There's a cruel part of Namjoon that dances in glee at having Jimin in his arms, in his embrace, so close to the fast pace of his heart.

This is Jimin's moment and you will not fuck this up.

"You're never selfish with me, Jimin-ah. I'm your friend; I'm here to give you support when you need it. I'm sorry that you're going through this, and I'm here for you."

"I don't even know why I'm this upset," Jimin sniffles, "I'm the one who wanted to end things, it's so stupid." I'm so stupid, is left unsaid.

"It's not stupid. There's no one at fault here, and that makes everything that much more frustrating and- and painful, and confusing. It's okay to be angry. There's no clear answers on what happened, and it's difficult to process that when you don't know where to direct any of your emotions."

He doesn't reply, not immediately. "I think- I think it's that neither of us wanted to put up a fight. Neither of us were ready to do more for the relationship and it just all crumbled at our feet."

"I think-" Namjoon clears his throat, "that it's been a long time coming. But it's okay to be disappointed, and hurt that things might be over between you both. You've worked at this for two years - ending that kind of a relationship takes its own toll."

Namjoon rests his head against the headrest of the sofa, his hand resting still on the curve of Jimin's back. It's a wonder the younger man isn't uncomfortable at the angle.

Jimin sighs. "How do you always know what to say, hyung?"

He wants to counter that with every single instance of dumb things that he's said but in the dimmed quiet of the room, he chooses to stay silent.

Because I love you.

***

Early March brings with it sleeting wind and cold rains that splatter the asphalt pavements in calming rhythms; it's easy for Namjoon to space out this way, hands tucked into the coat pockets and protected under the awning of the bus stop.

The time on his watch reads 5.15 as he steps on his bus; it’s fifteen minutes later and Namjoon buzzes his way into his apartment, only to be greeted by the soft sounds of Jimin sleeping on the sofa.

"Aish, this guy-" Namjoon says, unravelling the scarf around his neck. At least there’s no having to hide the endeared smile on Namjoon’s face.

Jimin's halos out as his squished cheek on the cushion pushes his lips forward into a little pout. There's a domestic satisfaction that buzzes through Namjoon's system but he shoves it down his throat

Living with Jimin had been...an adjustment.

Namjoon hasn't lived with someone else in his space in a while and a grieving Jimin piled on top of that, it has been a bigger struggle than he'd thought it would be. In the first week alone, Jimin refused to go out anywhere except the grocery store, and this was only done at midnight.

"The quiet helps me think, hyung." He'd say, purple bags hugging just under his eyes.

Jimin would shower every day, keep everything clean and organized. And yet, Namjoon already knows the sadness running its course when Jimin watches the street outside, scooters making their way through the narrow alley and the ahjummas yelling at their grandkids.

He knows; from the way Jimin quietly shuffles around the house; barely a whisper, barely a sound.

"I haven't ever felt so- so empty. Like I was nothing."

In those moments, Namjoon can only pull Jimin into a tight hug and hope that his promises bleed through their skin; hope that Jimin will understand that Namjoon would always try to be the guiding light of the moon.

It's the best he can do, he thinks. Nothing quite fixes heartbreak, but time can give the space one needs to begin trying to heal.

***

On a slow Wednesday night, they're watching a new drama when Namjoon sees it; a smile tugging at the corner of Jimin's lips that doesn't come with sad eyes. The characters are babbling something on screen but the sight of Jimin’s crooked tooth forms an open smile. It’s the only thing Namjoon’s vision allows him to see.

Jimin’s eyes scrunch up, not exactly moon-shaped yet but almost; and he runs his fingers through his hair.

"I love that guy," Jimin comments, "he's such a good actor."

Namjoon has no idea who he's talking about. "Yeah, he really is."

That night, Namjoon slides under the covers of his bed and holds his phone in his hands.

namjoon:

he smiled so wide today hyung

i almost died

yoongi hyung:

that’s great namjoon-ah

im glad

dont forget to invite him for next month

namjoon:

yes hyung!

good night <3

***

On a blissfully sunny Saturday in March, Jimin agrees to accompany Namjoon for Yoongi and Hoseok's joint birthday picnic celebration.

Namjoon's heart somersaults in his chest as he watches Jimin laugh with his whole body, a finger wiping a stray tear at crescent eyes. A special kind of love blooms in the crevices of Namjoon's ribs, vines curling and growing through the space.

"Yah, I'm not even kidding! The boy looks at me like I've grown two heads and goes 'Chef Yoongi, isn't this a bread knife?'. I very nearly committed murder right then and there." Yoongi huffs, popping a piece of chicken into his mouth as he finishes speaking.

Hoseok rests back in his chair. "Hyung, I love you but I wouldn't help you if you got yourself thrown in jail."

Yoongi's jaw drops. "Hoseok-ah. We’ve been dating 6 months and you can’t do this much for your boyfriend? I want a divorce.”

The theatrics are so exaggerated; Namjoon almost wouldn’t believe it if he didn’t know it was meant to draw even more peals of laughter out of Jimin, ringing high and pretty. It’s working, by all means - as odd as it is to see Yoongi as dramatic as he’s acting.

Later, when the happy couple make a detour for a walk around the pond, Namjoon aligns himself on to the blanket next to Jimin; the sky is close to crystal clear and dotted with cotton candy, feathered sunbeams kissing their faces ever so gently around the whispering breeze.

If he stretched his fingers just that little bit, they’d graze against Jimin’s hand and that- that seems too bold.

Not yet.

“Do you ever think about the past, hyung?” Jimin tilts his head to the side and squints at the sky.

“All the time; how else do I constantly worry about what I’ve said or done?”

Jimin giggles. “That’s not what I meant! I mean, things in the past like, relationships and decisions about things that have changed your life like- like that one time in grad school, with Professor Yu?”

Namjoon takes a few moments to ponder the question; he hasn’t thought about Professor Yu in a long time. The story went that a young Kim Namjoon, in all his eagerness to prove himself academically, took on a project with Professor Yu, doing the majority of the work only to find out he’d written himself as the first author, which had been heart-breaking. It had taken a lot out his soul to accept and move on from that betrayal.

“I don’t know, Jimin-ah. I’d heard very few rumours about Professor Yu before that, so I realistically could have known. But I made the decision I thought was best at the time. I beat myself up over it for a long time before Yoongi-hyung helped me realize it wasn’t my fault. And that hating myself for being carried away wasn’t going to get me anywhere.”

Pause. “Sometimes I think I did a dumb thing breaking up with him.”

No need for clarification - Namjoon already knows who Jimin is talking about.

“Why do you think so?”

“I’m just...sometimes I feel so unhappy, hyung, like, I have no one in my life. I didn’t realize how all-consuming the relationship was until I got out and now I’m just- untethered. I don’t feel like I have roots sometimes, you know?”

A plane passes above them; in the distance, trees rustle in tune children’s gleeful screams from the playground.

“I’m glad I ended it; I am. But I keep going over it, again and again, wondering if ending it was worth being this...lonely.”

Namjoon sighs. “I think it’s natural to question your decisions, Jimin-ah. I mean,” he chuckles, “rich coming from someone like me, but it was a major decision in your life. You’ve spent a lot of time building a life with Hyunwoo, and to see your future change the way it has? And still go through with it?”

A leaf floats down into the space between them.

“I think you’re incredibly brave.”

It’s not a special sentiment but the words feel good, like they were meant to be what needed to be said. Jimin inhales, exhales. Namjoon mimics the same.

And then, a tiny pinky twirls itself around his own. The air in his lungs is sucked out when it happens and he does his best to keep a minimal visceral reaction; he’s going to lose his mind. Jimin’s finger is soft and tiny - and he feels even warmer with his shoulders brushing Namjoon’s in that inconspicuous way.

“Thank you, hyung.”

***

In January, Namjoon made a resolution to get fit; he’d been coasting on the physical exertion of walking to work and realized he really needed to sign up at a gym. With sweaty palms, he found a local-owned place and registered his name for a basic plan, and while it had been hell to start with, May rolls around with its creeping heat waves and he’s so grateful for his morning workouts, even if the sweat makes him look far less than desirable.

He finds himself craving less coffee, and with a lighter step in his feet when he does his daily commute to and from work. On the days he has late deadlines and can't make it in the morning, evenings work just as fine, even if it’s a crowd he doesn’t always vibe with.

Namjoon meets a young trainer soon after he joins and learns that Jungkook is still in school for exercise therapy; he’s a good instructor, doesn’t push Namjoon further than he thinks he can handle and is always ready with stories of his boyfriends (elusive creatures whose names are never mentioned but frequently discussed).

“Hey Jimin-ah,” Namjoon says, strolling past the doorway; he’d decided to do a light jog on his way home from the gym, just to get home quicker and he’s sure he’s drenched in sweat. The bag is dumped by the shoe-stand and Jimin looks up to greet him with a smile only for it to be locked into place.

Namjoon has known Jimin for years now - he can recognize a fake smile on the younger man from a mile away.

He raises an eyebrow and takes a swig from the water bottle in his hands. “What is it?”

“Ah, nothing hyung. Did you- um, did you just come back from the gym? You don’t...you’re usually wearing a jacket, right?”

Oh no. A glance down reminds him of his attire today. With the weather heating up, he’d foregone his usual workout jacket for a sleeveless tee, neckline dipping pretty low on his chest and shorts that clung to his thighs - Jimin’s probably disgusted with seeing so much skin and sweat.

“Oh yeah, um,” Namjoon swallows, “it was so hot, I thought I could wear this but I didn’t even think about how it would make you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry Jimin.”

Jimin purses his lips and nods tightly, eyes glued to Namjoon’s chest. “’s fine, hyung, don’t worry about it.”

He’s gone and done it now; Jimin can’t even bring himself to look Namjoon in the eye.

“I’ll just-” Namjoon gestures to the bathroom, “go shower and uh. change.”

Another firm nod. The air is stale. Eyes have shifted down to his knees; he’s so embarrassed. He’s never going to live with himself, making Jimin see him in this unpleasant state. Jimin’s never going to look him in the eyes again.

“Yeah, you do that, hyung. We can, um. Eat when you’re done.”

Namjoon inwardly groans. “Yeah.”

He thumps his back against the bathroom door when it’s closed and slowly slides down onto the floor, ignoring the aching whine from his thighs. What was he thinking? Why couldn’t he have showered in the gym like he does in the mornings? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The apartment is quiet enough that Namjoon can hear the guest bedroom door softly click shut - he can’t stop himself from dumping his head in his hands, inner voice screaming at the entire situation.

Namjoon should move out and live the hermit life.

It’s the only option left.

He pulls out his phone and opens the group chat.

hoseok -ah stop changing the gc name

namjoon:

i committed a crime

yoongi hyungie:

don’t touch the body

send me your location so i can bring bleach

hoba-ah:

hyung what the FUCK

yoongi hyungie:

what

namjoon wouldn’t say that unless he actually committed a crime so

i assumed the worst

namjoon:

HYUNG

I HAVEN’T MURDERED ANYONE

yoongi hyungie:

okay you both need to calm your tits

i was clearly joking

hoba-ah:

*squints*

yoongi hyungie:

You’re literally sitting next to me

hoba-ah:

namjoon-ah needs to knows, it's the realism

namjoon:

okay can we come back to my problem now

so i came back from the gym this evening

and i made a BIG mistake

yoongi hyungie:

can u /please/ stop with the melodrama and spit it out

hoba:

hyung:(( dont be mean

namjoon-ah, go ahead

namjoon:

as i was saying

you know how i switched to wearing those sleeveless tees bc the muscle shirts were too itchy

yoongi hyungie:

yes and god bless for that

namjoon:

weird, but okay

anyway, i was wearing that and looking really gross when i got back home and forgot jimin has never seen me like that

he's probably so repulsed :( he couldnt even look into my eyes

just stared at my chest and barely said anything

i feel so embarrassed

hoba:

oh my god

yoongi hyungie:

hey namjoon-ah

per chance

were you wearing the tee that hobah gave you when you reached your first milestone

namjoon:

yeah :(( why?

yoongi:

ah

i see

hoba:

oh my god

i cant believe you

namjoon:

!!!!

what

did i miss something?

yoongi hyungie:

nope

nothing

you're fine

hoba:

wow

just wow

namjoon:

y'all are mean :((

i want new friends

***

“Jimin-ah?”

“Yeah, hyung?”

Namjoon stands awkwardly in the doorway of Jimin’s room, fingers flipping the card in his hand over and over again.

Jimin’s room. When did it transition from Namjoon’s guest bedroom to Jimin’s room? It’s so obviously his; the blanket is neatly folded up to the pillows, surfaces clear of dust and straggling items. There are one or two polaroids pinned to the corkboard - one of Jimin with his parents, twelve years old and toothily smiling into the camera lens. The other is one of them from undergrad, at a denim-themed party.

He can’t help but smile at the picture.

On the study chair, Jimin sits with his knees pulled up and laptop open to some spreadsheets with so many numbers, Namjoon can feel the strain in his own eyes five feet away. Orange sweater, blue pants and looking so, so soft; Namjoon loses his train of thought for a few seconds. In the warm yellow light, it’s hard to form coherent thought when Jimin regards him with wide eyes and a tilt to his head.

“Hyung? Did you want to ask me something?”

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? Oh, right. Um, I have this book launch, it’s not a big deal or anything but they’re giving out plus ones to everyone and since I’m headlining the event-”

“You’re what? Hyung, that’s amazing!” Jimin exclaims, and he’s up and out of the seat, running into Namjoon’s chest.

Namjoon breathes out an oof and laughs. “It’s really not important-”

“Hyung, shut up, this is literally amazing. You’ve always talked about hosting your own launch, being allowed to introduce an author at one; don’t put yourself down.”

If it’s possible, Namjoon’s chest feels even lighter - he’s secretly giddy that Jimin remembers, an off-handed comment he’s only mentioned once or twice when they’ve had too many drinks, and his lips are looser than they ever would be.

It is unfair that Namjoon can’t lean down and kiss Jimin square on the lips right now.

“Well, yeah.” He says, stupid smile finding its way to his face. He pushes the card into Jimin’s hand and watches him read over the golden text. “Okay, it is kind of a big deal, only a little and...I was wondering if you wanted to be my plus one.”

Jimin’s mouth drops into a pretty ‘o’.

Before he can stop himself, the words are out. “-yeah, I just thought it’d be really cool to bring a friend along, you know. If you wanted to come, it’d be nice.”

“Ah, I see. Well, since hyung asked so formally-” Jimin elbows him with a smirk, “I guess I’ll consider the invitation. I’ll RSVP very soon, please expect my response within two to three business days, Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon plays along (because when can he not?). “Excellent, Jimin-ssi, I’ll await your acceptance.” He turns to leave. “I got take-out for dinner, we can eat when you’re ready.”

Jimin shouts something in agreement and the evening continues in its () domesticity.

***

Lights. Banners. People.

There’s so much activity around Namjoon, people running around with clipboards and decor items for the event; he’s spent weeks with his team and other departments, planning everything of the launch down to the T. Namjoon himself has a bluetooth earphone attached in his ear, feeling the sweat build in the armpits of his pressed dress shirt and black blazer; thank god it isn’t a black tie dress code, or he’d be subject to an awful cummerbund.

The room buzzes with conversation, champagne glasses floating on the trays that pass around on the artful feet of the waiters; Namjoon wishes he could down a few shots before having to go up on stage. He glances down to check the time, a finger tugging the edge of his collar. The temptation to be melodramatic and act like it’s suffocating flies in his mind but he can’t complain.

Jimin should be here any minute now.

He’s whisked away by his secretary to go over the itinerary for the event again, and there’s a report of some electrical problem that he has to sit with until it’s fixed. After that, someone from his team drags him to the side of the stage and tells him there’s been a change in the order (again) by the board members and it’s all Namjoon can do not to scream.

By the time he realizes that it’s Yoongi behind the lens of the very rude camera that's been snapping flustered images of him for the past five minutes, he’s glowering into it and pinching his arm in retaliation.

"What the fuck, that's no way to treat your kind hyung, who's doing this for free, may I add-"

"Yeah, well. I know Hoba put you up to this, hyung," Namjoon chides, eyes scanning the crowd while his hand fusses with the handkerchief in the breast pocket, "so don't pull that card on me."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Looking for someone?"

"Yeah, Jimin was supposed to be here by now. I was hoping I could show him his seat."

Namjoon is yanked again by his secretary, who is rapidly relaying more updates of the logistics and he has just enough time to make eye contact with Yoongi for the elder to understand, nods his head and moves onward with his camera.

"The caterers need fifteen more minutes to set up and the sound system is all good but we need to check your mic one more time before you go on-stage." Chaeyoung's words roll one after another without a breath in between. They stop by the platform and she's fixing his tie. "Don't forget your script is in your coat pocket, and the Yeonsoo-ssi is just waiting on your cue."

He smiles, head to the side as she adjusts it. "I can handle it, Chaeyoung-ah."

"I know. You're not the only one who worries, you know."

"I've got this." Namjoon adds.

The crowd is mostly settled in their seats now, and he's still sweating but when he peeks through the curtain and catches a flash of blond hair in the front, the corners of his mouth can't help but pull up.

Jimin looks gorgeous, black slacks and white shirt with a cool blazer that screams elegance. Namjoon is tall, sure, but Jimin's legs are endless in the material of his pants, looking every bit the scrumptious man he knows he is. There's a confidence to Jimin that's been missing recently, but it's anything but gone with the way he holds himself now.

But the cue crackles into his in-ear and he walks on stage to the podium, clears his throat, and begins speaking.

***

There's a gentle tap on his shoulder. "Hey there, Mr. Celebrity."

When he turns around, it's the best sight for his sore eyes. Jimin is more stunning up close, and it takes a second for Namjoon's brain-to-mouth connection to spark up like a frayed wire; it blasts off in a million different directions, neurons desperately trying to get Namjoon to speak.

It takes more than a second.

But thankfully, Jimin only smiles dopily and is hugging him before he has to react.

Jimin is warm, and good, and so small in Namjoon's arms.

"You did so good, hyung. I'm so proud of you!" Jimin exclaims. His voice vibrates through Namjoon's body; feels nice.

"Thanks, Jimin-ah.”

***

"---you know--- it's ---you're---beautiful-----boyfriend?"

Namjoon's vice-grip on the champagne flute in his hand and clenched jaw are obvious; Yoongi widens his eyes and spins around to find Jimin talking to Kim Taehyung, another executive from a competing publishing company.

Kim Taehyung. Tall, gorgeous and ever bit the type of person that Jimin would be into. He's smart, funny and according to the rumour mills of the publishing world - single.

It's not that Taehyung is a bad person, or that their competition is borne from personal reasons; what Namjoon doesn't enjoy is the way he stands so close to Jimin, hardly an inch between them and a large hand settled on Jimin's back, as if it were meant to be there.

Taehyung leans down to Jimin's mouth, hand cupped over his ear; it's ridiculous. This is a professional and he's behaving irresponsibly and Namjoon - he hates it. They'd raised their glasses at Namjoon when they'd made eye contact but without even waiting for a legitimate response, they returned to the conversation, head tipped to each other as if in confidence.

Namjoon isn't the most neat lip-reader but he can tell certain words that are clear.

"---you----really hot---"

Jimin tugs the earring a few times. What if he's signaling for help?

(A deep, ancient thing inside Namjoon's pit knows he's acting like a douchebag; he's jealous, and there's nothing to sugar-coat it).

"Does he look like he's uncomfortable, hyung? Please tell me no or I'm about to walk over there myself," Namjoon grits out.

Yoongi shoves him back. "No, you ghoul. Stay back and let Taehyung-ssi flirt with our Jiminie as much as he wants. He needs this so hold onto your dick for five seconds and finish the drink you have so I can get you another one."

He's never been more grateful for having Yoongi around.

"I hate this."

"I know, baby." Yoongi's hand pats his cheek but it doesn't erase the grimace on his face.

"I really hate this."

"I know."

"This sucks."

"Then tell him how you feel."

Namjoon whips his head at Yoongi. "Are you crazy? Do you want me to die, hyung? Is that what you want?"

Yoongi slaps his chest. Namjoon can only balk at the action. "Again, stop thinking with your fucking dick and use that goddamned IQ of yours for once."

Yoongi looks angry. Oh no.

He blinks through the red and shamefully shuffles his feet back and forth. "I'm so tired, hyung."

"I know, baby."

In the distance, Namjoon can hear snippets of their conversation carried over the party air - light and airy in Jimin's voice mingling with Taehyung's deeper and silkier bass.

"---never---date?---namjoon---just friends---"

Oh.

It’s different to hear it out loud, Namjoon thinks. He’s never held much for it; never considered the possibility but there’s a yearning in Namjoon’s soul that imagines Jimin returning his affections, maybe. It’s easy to lose himself, when it’s dark and quiet and a brightness behind Namjoon’s closed eyes - of Jimin’s figure tucked into Namjoon’s as they sleep.

Namjoon can distinctly make out the "call me" that Taehyung says before walking away; Jimin's cheeks are rosy-red now, soft and pretty and begging to be kissed.

He wishes he were that brave.

***

kim namjoon:

hey jiminie

mochi jiminie:

what's up what's up

kim namjoon:

im bringing a friend over later today

hope that's okay!

mochi jiminie:

of course! it's your apartment, hyung, i'm the one intruding anyway

kim namjoon:

yah, it's your home too

mochi jiminie:

Namjoon and Jungkook tumble through the door of his apartment, all laughs and legs as they toe their shoes off and shed the coats that they’d bundled up before leaving the gym. In a session last week, Jungkook had off-handedly mentioned wanting to visit a gallery by a new painter and since his boyfriends were busy, would Namjoon want to join him?

They’d met earlier in the day and decided to have some coffee at Namjoon’s to avoid the rain dampening the day.

“Hyung, I’m just as much an advocate of art as you are but...you can’t tell me that last piece didn’t slightly remind you of the splatter near the dumbbell set, right?” Jungkook asks, stifling a giggle.

He retraces his memory of the gym wall and smiles. “Okay, sure, if you say so. Can’t believe you compared a priceless painting to a coffee stain. “Do you want some coffee?”

Jungkook scrunches his nose and settles into the sofa. “Nothing else?”

“Okay, demanding.” Namjoon teases. He shuffles through the fridge and finds some random juice bottle. “Lemonade?”

“Lemonade works!”

Bottles in hand, he almost runs face chest-first into Jimin, who startles back so suddenly that he lands on his ass and drops his phone. The earphones laying next to him are explanation enough; Jimin looks up at him with dramatic furrowed eyebrows and an adorable pout that Namjoon wants to coo over.

“Hyung, what the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah, I thought you heard us walking in-”

“Can’t believe you’re out to get me like this.” Jimin accepts the offered hand and yanks himself up. He raises an eyebrow at the bottles in Namjoon’s hand.

“Oh! Let me introduce you to Jungkook.”

Jungkook is a tall guy, arms swirling in tattoos and muscles, with long hair held up in the cutest ponytail that he was dared to grow by one of the (still elusive) boyfriends. At first glance, Jungkook is every bit the intimidating image of a buff man who could beat you up and wouldn’t blink. The actual Jungkook has the biggest eyes and is babied by his ‘amazing hyungs, they always do so much for me and buy me things I don’t even need, hyung, is this what old people do?’.

(The last statement never fails to get a whack over the head from their floor manager if he’s in earshot).

Jungkook bounds over to the pair, bowing once with a wide smile on his face and slipping himself under Namjoon’s outstretched arm. “I’ve heard so much about you, Jimin-ssi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Namjoon tries to pinch him subtly (and fails). The hours Namjoon has spent whining over Jimin have reached uncomfortable levels and Jungkook is definitely more than aware of his feelings.

“Likewise, Jungkook-ssi.” Jimin bows back with a tight smile, earphones wrangled and twisted over and under his fingers in a repeated pattern. “Namjoonie-hyung tells me you’re the best trainer they have.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say best but Joonie-hyungie has been doing so much all on his own.” Jungkook leans his cheek against Namjoon’s shoulder, an arm wrapping around his waist. “He’s really doing great.”

“That’s,” Jimin coughs once, head briefly turned away from the pair, “really good, yup. Well, I’m gonna go, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook-ssi.”

He gives them an even smaller smile, completely unlike his usual friendliness and the bedroom door closes with a resolute sound.

“That was weird.” Namjoon announces.

Jungkook grabs the bottle in his hand and twists the cap off with ease. “Huh.”

“What?”

“You can’t see that?”

“See what?”

Jungkook lowers himself on the arm of the sofa. “Hyung, don’t tell me you can’t see it.”

“See what?” Namjoon repeats. He’s so confused, and he feels a bit like a parrot now. “I’m clearly missing something, so what is it?”

“Hyung, I’d bet my entire Xbox set he’s jealous.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Jimin and jealous.” He kicks a leg up to rest on his knee, shoulders adjusting to the reclined position. “Right.”

“Not to sound like a tape recorder, but yeah, hyung, I’d bet my left nut he’s jealous.”

“Ugh, bad imagery.” Namjoon grimaces. Jungkook beams at him with pride. “I knew you were joking with me-”

“Hyung, no, okay, I said the nut thing because I knew it would gross you out but,” Jungkook shifts, feet perched very comfortably on Namjoon’s lap with no apparent plan to ask the elder if he’s okay with it, “-I wasn’t lying before. I’ve seen jealous men and that one-” he points to the hallway with an accusatory finger, “-is a prime fucking example.”

Namjoon shakes his head. There’s no way Jimin is jealous. It couldn’t be possible. Because if Jimin is jealous, it means - it means a lot. It means something that Namjoon has resolved in his weary and tired heart a long time ago; something that he only allows himself to hope for in the early mornings, when the pink starts bleeding into black sky and the morning is just light enough that it isn’t a new day just yet. But the in-between is another layer of reality and in that little space of confounding space and time, Namjoon lets himself wonder for a different alternate dimension.

One where Jimin is jealous because he loves him back.

But it isn’t right. Not when Jimin is healing and piecing himself back together, a process Namjoon has seen with his own eyes. He’s much better than before, than all those weeks ago with the empty eyes and drowning words but - he can’t take advantage of Jimin’s heart like this. It isn’t right.

A finger pokes into his cheek. “Hyung. Hyung. Hyung.”

“What?”

“You’re allowed to want that. You know that, right?” Jungkook stares into his eyes, unflinching in his gaze. “You’re allowed to want him to love you back. It doesn’t make you wrong, or bad, or disrespectful. You deserved to be loved just as much as him.”

The rain pitter-patters against the window as he lets the words sink into his skin.

***

“Seokjin-ssi.” Namjoon calls as he strides to the only single-occupied table on the patio.

Kim Seokjin is every part the sophisticated and handsome man he appears in his photos; he stands to greet Namjoon, fingers buttoning his coat. How Namjoon had managed to score a meeting with him is beyond his imagination, but he’s not about to make any complaints, not when he has the elder here.

“Namjoon-ssi. Your reputation precedes you.” Seokjin says warmly.

“As does yours. Shall we sit?”

Seokjin gestures to the seat across from him. “Please.”

The cafe is a new trendy place; weather being warm enough that they are seated outside and basking in the sunny rays streaming past the gazebo and vines intertwining above them. Namjoon sets his messenger bag by his feet and scans the menu.

“I hope your wait wasn’t too long.”

“Not at all. I thought I’d wait to order together.”

“Ah, that wasn’t necessary, Seokjin-ssi!”

Seokjin reclines in his chair. “Ah, it’s no problem. For all my dashing looks, I pride myself on my table manners above all else.

Namjoon smiles back. “I don’t doubt it.”

The waiter arrives at that moment, tablet in hand as they take their order for drinks and food. Just as swiftly, they’ve swept up the menu cards and leave with promises to bring their order as soon as it’s prepared, with a minimum wait of fifteen minutes. Namjoon takes the silence to breathe normally and sip water from the glass in front of him.

Namjoon rubs his sweaty palms down his dress slacks; Kim Seokjin is not an author to be trifled with. Published five times, three of which debuting #1 on the New York Times Bestseller List, and a number of literary accolades under his belt. The man had only recently sold the rights to his first book for an up-and-coming TV drama, a deal that had made headlines everywhere in South Korea.

So yeah. Namjoon is nervous.

“You know, Namjoon-ssi, I really have heard a lot about your work.” Seokjin comments.

“Oh?” He pauses. “All good things, I should hope.”

“Certainly; I should say it came from a very...trusted source. They said you’re hard-working, and that you never leave your clients to dry. A very caring editor.”

“I can vouch for that; as an editor, it is my responsibility to your work but also to you, as a person, author-nim. My company is small but what we lack in large infrastructure, we certainly make up for in our enthusiasm and hard work. Everyone is part of our family, and we look out for one another in our company. If you do decide to sign on with us, I can guarantee that you will see no stone unturned in publishing and marketing your next books to the image that you want it in.”

The marketing spiel sounds foreign and familiar to him all at once; Namjoon means every word but he’s always been uncomfortable talking about and advertising himself.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Namjoon continues. “If you sign on with us, you’ll have your own dedicated team for every part of the publishing and naturally, I will oversee the entire process. We have contracts with several independent artists for cover art and can work on a winter release.”

Seokjin holds his chin in his hands. He doesn’t say anything. Silence balloons between them.

He relaxes - there’s not much he can say beyond this.

“If I may ask you something slightly more personal, Namjoon-ssi-”

“Hyung!”

Namjoon whips his head to the side - Jimin stands on the staircase on the other side of the gazebo, waving erratically.

“I’m so sorry, Seokjin-ssi, could you give me just a moment?” Namjoon asks, an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks.

“Of course, of course.” Seokjin agrees, and Namjoon is out of his chair and hastens to where Jimin waits for him.

Fuck, he hopes Seokjin doesn’t write him off as an unprofessional prick.

“Hyung, that’s so funny, I didn’t think I’d see you here-”

“Jimin-ah.”

Jimin widens his eyes, thrown by the serious tone in Namjoon’s voice. “Hyung? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine, it’s just that I’m in a really important thing right now-”

“Oh. You’re on a date, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Jimin races to say.

Not exactly but he’ll correct the younger when he’s fine. Namjoon purses his lips and tries for a comforting smile. “It’s fine! It’s fine, I should get back but um, I’ll catch up with you when I’m home, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Jimin rises to his tip toes, and slings his arms around Namjoon’s neck for a quick hug. Namjoon has already pulled back with a quick apology and retraces his steps to his table.

The grating of the metal chair against stone is loud, but at least in his absence, their order had reached the table, steam wafting from the hot pasta.

“I’m so sorry about that, Seokjin-ssi-”

“Please, it’s all fine.”

Namjoon gives Jimin a brief glance as the younger turns away, already beaming at whoever he’s meeting. His heart squeezes - it’s unlikely, considering it’s the middle of the day and work week, but it doesn’t stop the vines from wrapping around his chest. Jimin is probably here for a date.

“You were saying?”

“I was going to ask if you’ve ever been in love, Namjoon-ssi. My latest book is another cliche, if you will, one that tackles the main character, a man in his 30s and his fears of trusting another, working over this to form a meaningful relationship with someone who’s in his early 20s. It navigates some difficult topics, particularly those on maturity and trust, among other things. It may prove to be difficult to publish, but I believe this story is important. And as a man currently in love, I can’t deny, as most authors may agree, there is some truth to the story in my novel.”

Namjoon doesn’t react; he’d known Seokjin’s work would follow a risque path. Kim Seokjin’s previous manuscripts have all followed relatively undiscussed topics and if nothing else, Namjoon respects him for his willingness to explore and share more in a lacking genre.

“It’s funny you say that because I actually have a friend in a similar relationship with some people, from what he tells me, quite a few years older and more established than him.” Namjoon shares. Jungkook is a good guy, but he’s confessed more than once on feeling inadequate around his boyfriends, for being so young and inexperienced in life.

“Do you now? That is so intriguing.” Seokjin tilts his head, a careful grin worn on his face, as if he knows something that Namjoon doesn’t.

“Yes, conversations with him are always so wonderful.”

“I’m sure they are.”

Odd, but Namjoon takes it in stride. Kim Seokjin, more than anything, is an eccentric man.

“So what do you say, Seokjin-ssi? Would you like to join our team?”

Seokjin brushes his hair back. Truly, he’s one of the most impressive people Namjoon has in; the confident aura he radiates, one that is unquestionable and unattainable.

“I would love nothing more, Namjoon-ssi.”

Relief floods through Namjoon’s system; he stands and bows quickly, receiving the same from Seokjin.

“You won’t regret this, Seokjin-ssi.”

***

When Namjoon returns home, there’s a feeling of elation behind his eyes; the kind of euphoria he gets after a really good workout, or when the last draft of a manuscript is approved. He picks up his favorite brand of wine on the way back and bursts through the door loudly.

“Jimin-ah, your hyung is a genius.”

Rattles and clunks alert Namjoon to movement in the kitchen; from where he stands in the hallway, Jimin slices the knife through the tomato, blade hitting the wooden cutting board with audible force.

“Hey hyung.” Jimin barely looks up, only slices harder.

Namjoon hesitates a moment; there’s a weird tension in the air that he can taste on the roof of his mouth, palpable like cotton candy. Jimin’s hair is tied up in a little sprig, sleeves pushed up his forearms and the muscle in his neck stands out.

“Everything…okay?” Namjoon prompts.

“Yeah.” Slam. “Why wouldn’t it be?” The smile is tight, faked to the point of taut lips and cheek.

The excitement slowly drains out of him as Jimin continues cutting. The juices gather in the ridges of the board, underside of Jimin’s hand tinted red.

“Well. For one, that tomato looks like it’s ready to face its death.”

Jimin scoffs. “Yeah, I -uh, had a friend tell me once that cutting vegetables when things are overwhelming can help with things so…you know. Here I am. Anyway, this isn’t about me. What was your good news?”

“Uh,”

“No, tell me, hyung. I wanna know.”

The insistence doesn’t reassure Namjoon the way it should. “Nothing, I just, had a really good thing today.”

“Oh, I saw. I’m glad you had a great date, hyung.”

“My...date. Right.” Namjoon echoes, tilting his head.

Jimin slides the chopped (pureed at this point) tomato off the board into a bowl. The clang of the knife to the rim of the bowl sounds throughout the apartment. It’s cold. “That man is gorgeous.”

“He is,” Namjoon agrees, resting his back against the counter.

“And he makes you laugh, which is awesome.”

Seokjin’s laugh reverberates in Namjoon’s head, short and high-pitched as the author guffaws at his own jokes. It had been endearing, in it’s individual way, but it's not the kind he prefers, personally. But he wonders why the words are just short of snarled, or where the anger comes from.

If Namjoon is on a date, why does it hurt Jimin?

“It’s great, hyung. I’m really happy for you.” Jimin crosses his arms and mirrors Namjoon’s pose across from him. Dismissal weaves and winds in the pitch of JImin’s voice.

Namjoon bites his lip. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

Jimin pushes off the counter and grabs a fresh cloth, wiping down the already pristine surface. He’s furious about something, and it shows in the clench of his jaw; how he’s barely made eye contact with Namjoon in the entirety of their conversation.

“Jimin-ah, come on.”

“It doesn’t matter-”

Namjoon steps forward. He reaches for Jimin’s arm. “Hey, listen, you know you can tell me anythin-”

“Oh my god hyung, just leave it alone!” Jimin snaps, yanking his arm out of Namjoon’s barely-present hold. “Leave me alone. Please, don’t bother with me and go on your dates, I’ve always been fine on my own and I’ll be just fine on my own now too. I don’t need you holding my hand every fucking step of the way.”

Namjoon inhales sharply. It’s cruel, and mean, and Namjoon doesn’t particularly enjoy the gashes left in his chest. He’d walked in with such a good mood and now he has no idea what is going on. “I don’t- Jimin, what- I don’t understand.”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Jimin rants. “I’ve always held my own and that’s fine. It’s okay. I don’t have anyone in my life, and I have no family, no home. It doesn’t really matter, I don’t care, I’m just really fucking tired and you’re too nice to kick me out of this apartment so it’s whatever-”

“That’s not true.” Namjoon interjects.

Jimin scoffs. “It is, and we both know it. I don’t belong anywhere, with anyone, and that’s fine.”

Namjoon stands awkwardly, a foot away from the younger man and struggling to find the right words. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, tries and tries to decide what he should say and what Jimin needs to hear but every time, he comes to a loss. Part of him is so angry, frustrated that Jimin would say such cruel things about himself, that he would assume how Namjoon is feeling. Another part of him, the smaller part that sits in the grass and pulls petals off of a flower, just can’t fathom the sadness.

How does he explain that to Namjoon, Jimin is his home? How does he even begin to describe how important Jimin is to him without completely confessing? Does he even want to right now, with Jimin hurling those mean words at him.

“Hope your date calls you for another. He’d be a real dumbass not to snap you up, hyung.”

With that remark, Jimin’s bedroom door (Jimin’s room, because of course it’s Jimin’s room, when was it ever a guest bedroom, Namjoon can’t even remember) rams shut.

***

The next night, Namjoon comes home to take-out from his favorite place and his favorite brand of beer is sitting in the fridge. There’s a little Ryan cupcake in a box next to the beer and just like that, the argument is brushed under the metaphorical rug. He finds he doesn’t mind - it’s easy when Jimin lays his head on his lap and quietly traces lines into Namjoon’s worn jeans. There’s a flower patch on his knee that Hoseok had sewn into his jeans one random morning, and he hadn’t had the heart to remove it.

Namjoon breathes in. It’s been a long week, and he wants to be angry; twilight requests a softer tone for her hour, to bask in her orange-black haze, and the promise that Namjoon can finally, finally, breathe out. “What are we watching?”

***

Sometimes, Namjoon can see through a looking glass; watches himself topple into roaring waves that slam into a rocky cliffside, bones and glass shattering in an instant with a shrill sound as the foam of the sea washes the traces away. It’s those impending moments of overthinking - the building worry and anxiety that chips inside his soul.

Stressing over the argument with Jimin only leaves a bitter taste in his mouth; the kind that lingers behind his teeth, to be found even hours later. At some point, he likes to think, he’ll be able to recall the memory and not wrack his brain in sheer confusion over what Jimin was thinking.

The idea of Jiming being jealous had crossed his mind, of course, it had. Brief, transient and laughable. There was no way it was even a possibility. Jimin, in all the sunshine he has to give to the world, wouldn’t see Namjoon like that. It’s not that Namjoon doesn’t think of himself as worthy - he knows he’s a decent guy, that he has a stable, enjoyable job - it helps that his height and posture knock him up a few points on the scale. He’s funny sometimes, and he has interesting things to talk about.

But Park Jimin has never been at the other end of his string.

It’s been months and years and decades (but really it’s been two weeks) since they’ve spent any time together without stifling, uncomfortable silence, and it gets even worse in the train booth with Yoongi and Hoseok in their own worlds, Hoseok next to him quietly reading a novel as he takes breaks to watch the scenery, and Yoongi in the opposite seat, head resting against the cushion with earphones plugged in.

Namjoon is attempting (in vain) to pay attention to the manuscript in front him, fingers painfully turning the pages and flitting his eyes to where Jimin lays his forehead against the window and watches the coastline whiz past.

‘This is so dumb,’ Namjoon thinks. ‘I should just clear the air right now.’

He clears his throat and moves to face Jimin but his knee bangs the underside of the table and now he looks like an idiot in the silence of the train compartment, how does he salvage the situation, ‘Quick, Namjoon-ah, you’ve got a millisecond before Jimin looks over and furrows his eyebrows in concern and asks if you’re okay, do something or else-’

“Hoba, you said we’re meeting Jungkook there with his boyfriends in the evening?

“Huh?” Hoseok turns to Namjoon, “Oh, yeah, he said one of them had a meeting so they’d just wait till they could leave together. There was another train an hour later but hyung,” he just his chin in Yoongi’s direction, who remains unaware of his disastrous calamity, “wanted to be there early and set up the kitchen.”

Namjoon nods. His plan might work after all. “I’m glad he’s comfortable enough to introduce us to him, he’s been so reserved when he talks about them.”

“Yeah, he’s talked about the age difference between him and the older two as worrying him but I think he’s much more stable in his feelings and where they’re at with that if he wants us to meet them!”

“I guess.”

He can feel Jimin’s eyes on him as they speak, but the sensation isn’t good. He’s tempted to just stand up and demand Jimin talk to him in private, end the discomfort and weirdness but the second he catches Jimin’s eyes - the fight drains out of him and the fear sets in, mist inching along the floor of his skull.

Namjoon gives him a half-smile that Jimin returns, but they break their gazes and the groan in Namjoon’s brain is louder than the drop of his upturned lips.

***

And then, like a miracle granted, the winds change direction.

The large house is comfortably quiet now, all members of the group upstairs recuperating from the long journey from Seoul (and if Namjoon pretends like he can’t hear the occasional squeak from the upstairs bedrooms, then that’s none of their business). Yoongi had spent almost two weeks hunting for the perfect beachside rental bungalow for the trip, notes hastily scribbled on different colored post-it notes to compare facilities and prices.

With three people, Jungkook, Seokjin and Taehyung - which had been a revelation in and of itself - snagged the master bedroom with promises to be downstairs in time for dinner in town.

“Your contact - it was Jungkook, wasn’t it?” Namjoon said, disbelief laced into every word.

Seokjin gave him a wry smile. “I did say you came highly recommended.”

“I can’t believe it! How long have you guys been dating?”

“Around 9 months now, hyung?”Taehyung piped in.

“Taehyung-ssi,” Namjoon turned to the handsome man. “The entire publishing industry has been raving about how you’re one of the most eligible bachelors around! No one even heard rumours of you dating.”

Taehyung shrugged, wrapping an arm around Seokjin’s tapered waist and resting his head on Seokjin’s shoulder. “What can I say? I’m good at keeping secrets.”

The last sentence was accompanied with a wink aimed at Jimin, who giggled and whacked his friend in the arm. The green lava monster that had been burning inside Namjoon the day of the book launch anytime he set a glance on the two of them tames its fire, and the guilt that sat in his chest slowly broils inside. There’s a big part of him that was elated that Taehyung is with Jungkook, that he hadn’t been flirting with Jimin the night of the launch.

“Wow.” Namjoon finished. “I get why you guys were keeping it secret though. Two high-profile people like you, it’d be in the news everywhere.”

“Oh.” They say simultaneously. Seokjin cleared his throat and spoke. “That’s where you’re slightly wrong, Namjoon-ssi. We,” Seokjin gestured between the two of them, “we’ve always been ready to go public.”

Next to him, Taehyung nodded vigorously, tousled hair shaking with the movement. How the curls looked so steady and effortless, Namjoon could never know.

“But Jungkook-ah...he’d been hesitant, at first. He likes the quieter life, and we liked him too much to jeopardize anything when things first started, so...we agreed to keep it low-key.”

“Yup,” Taehyung agreed, “and really, it was his comfort that was most important. Let’s be real, the media wouldn’t have said anything ridiculous to us, it would’ve been to Jungkook, and we couldn’t ask that of him.”

The look in their eyes as they talk about him; it leaves Namjoon wondering how crazy he’d been to think Taehyung was making a move on Jimin. The love in their voice...it was clear.

Namjoon smiled. “Welcome to the family.”

Namjoon’s pouring the hot water into his cup when there’s a gentle tip-tap on the stairs and Jimin walks into the kitchen, eyes glued to the screen before he realizes someone else’s presence.

“Hyung.”

“Hi, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin slips his phone into his back-pocket. “I was just going to make myself some tea.”

“I’m making some for myself, do you want me to pour for you too?”

He nods. “If you don’t mind?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “Of course not. Let me just get you one.”

The silence that follows is awkward, stifling like the train booth and just as uncomfortable as the day of their fight. Namjoon focuses on what he can; the smoothness of the porcelain cup in his hands, the steam from the kettle, light from the lamppost streaming in from outside. His hands idly dip the tea bag, mouth twisted into a weird expression as he watches the flavour diffuse into the hot water.

“Is your room okay?”His brain feels a lot like the tea essence - coiling in between and spreading thin within its medium. Does Namjoon feel spread thin?

“Yeah, it’s nice. Kinda chilly but,” Jimin shrugs, “it’ll be fine.”

“Right, yeah.”

Quiet.

“Hyung-”

“Jimin-ah-”

They both stop short, mouths open to continue but waiting for the other. Namjoon shuts his jaw with a snap and purses his lips. “You go first.”

Jimin exhales. “I need to apologize.”

“It’s really fi-”

A tiny hand comes up. “No, hyung, it’s really not. And I’m going to need you to let me do this because- well, I just need to.”

Namjoon falls silent, hands awkwardly setting the tea bag on an extra plate.

“I shouldn’t have been so rude, or inconsiderate. That day was rough for me, and it’s not an excuse for my words, I know.” Jimin bites his lower lip, pink blooming underneath as the lip is released. His eyes are wide, pleading with Namjoon (as if Namjoon would do anything to deny Jimin the world). “I just think you deserved that explanation. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I’ve always been so so grateful for our friendship, and to you for letting me stay. Sometimes,” Jimin scoffs, fingers twiddling with his thumb, “I feel like I’m just taking advantage of you, and I know that’s not how you see it. But that's how I do, so.”

The words hang in the air for a few seconds, humid and thick.

“Can we be friends again?” Jimin asks, voice full of hope.

There’s an uncomfortable itch in Namjoon’s throat at those words; because he wants for them to be more, and he’s wanted that for a long time now. But nothing has rested higher on his list of desires in the world than being in Jimin’s life.

“We always were, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin smiles, no teeth peeking but his eyes scrunch up; within a few seconds, he’s skipped around the counter and catapulted into Namjoon’s chest, arms winding around his neck and nose tickling Namjoon’s neck.

“I’ve missed you so much, hyung, it’s been so weird, I wanted to talk to someone about our fight because I just felt awful and I realized I only wanted to talk to you but I couldn’t and ughhh.” Namjoon wishes he would muster up the courage and be selfish. “I just hated it so much.” Maybe if he was, there wouldn’t be a droop in his heart. Jimin nuzzles in further; Namjoon tucks his chin over his head. “I’m glad things are normal now.”

“Me too, me too.” Namjoon says. This isn’t ideal but he can do this. He can get through this and be there for Jimin.

Jimin leans back, a smile still wide on his face. “Race you to the waterfront?”

Namjoon gives him a grin back, feet already moving backwards to the balcony door. “Loser pays for drinks?”

“You will.” Jimin quips back, and they take off in a sprint down the stairs, Jimin jumping over three or four stairs at a time but Namjoon’s steady work-outs have helped him finally put his uselessly long legs to some use. There’s still a winded feeling in his lungs as they run across the pavement and land on the sand, feet in time with his heart as they laughingly pull at each other’s shirts. Jimin plays dirty (as is custom) and hauls himself onto Namjoon’s back, who instinctively pulls his arms under Jimin’s legs.

“Onward, Jeeves!” Jimin exclaims. Laughter peals in Namjoon’s ear, and it’s good.

“Say that again and I won’t hesitate to drop you on your ass.”

Jimin mock-scoffs. “Oh faithful hyung of mine, I promise to never refer to you in such an egregious manner ever again.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Okay, tone down the fancy speak.” He’s more out of breath now, but they’re close to the shore-line now, gentle waves brushing against the sand. It’s hot outside, and he’s already sweating but he keeps on walking forward, water level crossing his ankles.

“Better be ready, Jimin-ssi.”

Finally, Jimin seems to understand. His arms strain against Namjoon’s back in fake-resistance, yelling behind him.

“Wait, hyung, oh my god no-” They crash into the wave as it crests, mouth filling with salt water rapidly and Namjoon’s head breaks the surface. The burn in his eyes feels good, refreshing somehow. The sun shines between the few clouds in the sky, gentle pinks and oranges mixing as Namjoon watches Jimin’s head rise from the water in front of him.

Jimin wipes a hand across his face, breaths heavy and a dangerous glare set on Namjoon. “I hate you so much right now.”

Namjoon’s smirking. His skin tingles from where Jimin has his hands on his shoulders. “No, you don’t.” He’s pretty in the sunlight, hair plastered to the sides of his face.

“No, I don’t.” Jimin grumbles back. There’s legs that wrap around his hips, feather-light in the water. “You’re still gonna carry me though.”

“As his highness wishes.”

“What happened to no fancy speak?”

“That was just for you, I never said I couldn’t use it.”

Jimin sputters. “But- that’s unfair!”

“All’s fair-” Namjoon starts but he holds his tongue. Better that he doesn’t finish that sentence - not when it feels like they’ve only just re-connected. The waves are bigger now, and it’s easy to get lost in the warmth Jimin emanates, a steady source of light in Namjoon’s arms.

***

Kim Namjoon is drunk. So is everyone else at the table.

Deep laughter rings just outside Namjoon’s head, Yoongi’s shoulders shaking and his wide, gummy smile emerges in his view to the right. The bar is lively, pop music reverberating through the space but not loud enough to force patrons to shout. Namjoon’s leg sticks out into the aisle, Jimin in the chair across from him but deep in conversation with Taehyung and Jungkook on either side of him.

He has to tear his eyes away from him, but it’s harder when his head feels as slow and fuzzy as it does. The glass in front of him is almost knocked over but Yoongi reacts in time, accompanying the gesture with a glare and says, “Keep your arms to yourself.”

“You know me, hyung, destruction god and everything,” Namjoon replies, leaning forward into Yoongi’s space with a smug smile, fist under his chin.

“You punk, wipe that smirk off your face.”

“But you loooove me,” The fancy bar lights blink in and out, and Yoongi’s face is suddenly replaced with Hoseok’s bright laugh - the room is lighter, somehow.

Hoseok screams and hugs him. “Namjoon-aaaaaaah, I missed you. Where were you till now?”

“Right here!”

“But why do I never see you?”

“Hoba, you see me twice a week, at least. You’re sitting next to me right now.”

“Huh,” Hoseok says, “damn, you’re right. You’re so smart.”

Namjoon takes another swig of the beer, fingers circling the neck of the bottle. Somehow the bottle has remained cool - a welcome feeling against his warm skin. It’s a colder summer night, which he’s grateful for. Hoseok’s voice cuts through the noise just as the song transitions.

“But for how smart you are, you’re also very dumb.” Hoseok announces, and Namjoon can do nothing but chuckle in response.

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

Hoseok’s leg is kicked up, foot tucked up under his butt and knee bent. He balances his glass on the curve (a dangerous endeavor), and they wait in silence as Hoseok pulls his hands away, letting it stand precariously for a few seconds.

Namjoon’s mouth gapes open. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe it.”

Hoseok grins and grabs the glass again. “If this doesn’t tell you how powerful I am-”

He shoves Hoseok’s shoulder before the man can finish his sentence. “Shut up. Just tell me why I’m dumb.”

Hoseok opens his mouth but-

“Does anyone want another round of drinks?” Seokjin calls out, and there’s a general agreement. The scrape of chairs and two missing spots where Seokjin and Yoongi had been sitting are stark. The noise level of the table doesn’t die down though, especially with Jungkook and Taehyung playing what seems to be a very intense game involving the sauce bottles.

Jimin cheers every time Taehyung gets a point, (or something resembling a point, honestly, Namjoon isn’t even watching them but Jimin laughs with whole body and falls into Jungkook so many times - eyes scrunched and nose so pretty, earrings dangling just right.)

He catches Namjoon’s eye and winks. The thud of Namjoon's chest feels so, so loud in his ears.

“Right, well then.”

Hoseok’s hands grab his face and twist his head to the side, where Hoseok stares him down.

“Is this how you plan to live?”

Namjoon furrows his eyebrows. Through squished lips, Namjoon tries to speak. “Like what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Hoba-ah.”

“Namjoon-ah.” Hoseok replies, with equal seriousness. He drops his hands from Namjoon’s face, but the eye contact remains. “I have watched you do this to yourself for years now. I need you to decide what you want.”

“It’s not about me-”

“It absolutely is, and I know it.” There’s a finger poking at this chest. “I know it. Everyone knows it. But you can only deal with this weight for so long.”

“I can’t do that, you know why. What do you want from me, Hoba?”Namjoon frowns; he’s not enjoying this conversation.

Hoseok sighs, straw swirling in the glass. “I want you to put yourself first, for once. I’ll ask you again: Is this how you want to live?”

Namjoon doesn’t like this. Does Hoseok think he wants to be miserable, watching the love of his life and keep himself at arm’s length, always? Does he think Namjoon wants to keep his lips sealed, hide away every confession in the crevices of his heart? He staggers out of his seat. “I’m going to get a drink while Yoongi-hyung comes back.”

Hoseok’s eyes watch him as he leaves. “Just think about it.”

Namjoon stumbles in the first few feet but finds his stride - long, automatic steps to the bar counter. He orders another beer, palms resting on the counter; the bottles on the shelves are arranged in haphazard order, in what seems like some sort of aesthetic that Namjoon is a little too drunk to appreciate. He feels larger than himself, elbows knocking into someone by accident but they pay him no mind.

There’s a fresh bottle with a napkin placed squarely in front of him; he gives a small bow to the bartender who’s already 6 feet away attending to a small group of college girls. Shot glasses lined up in a haphazard line. The lime wedges in their plates match the ones in his.

The first sip goes down.

There’s a woman sitting a few seats down the bar, a classic martini held in her hand and she tips the glass towards him with a kind and almost-suggestive smile; he returns the gesture, sans the implication of something more. She’s attractive, and in a handsome dress that suits her well.

In the blink of an eye, what little gap between Namjoon and the counter is void now; Jimin slides in front of him with a lowly “-excuse me, hyung.” Jimin’s face is only a couple of inches from his own, body pressed up so close that he can feel the indents of Jimin’s belt.

There’s enough space around the both of them that he doesn’t need to do this, but Namjoon’s alcohol-addled brain doesn’t register why he’s doing it, only knows that Jimin is very close and it’s weirdly okay with him.

“Sharing is caring, hyung,” Jimin pouts. Suddenly, Jimin lilts to the side, face paling. Namjoon catches his shoulder, but he’s already steady within the second. Jimin’s other hand holds the counter tightly, fingers gripping the smooth edge.

“Yah, what are you doing?”

He swallows. “I think I need some fresh air.”

Namjoon nods. “I think I can use some too.”

They meander through the maze of tables, occasionally ducking around jostling people and waiters. In front of him, Jimin pushes the heavy door open. It swings shut and the din of the restaurant fades behind them. The street is busier than the pavements, in a funny twist.

Jimin kicks at a stray pebble on the pavement, and he takes a sip of his drink. He sets the bottle delicately on the bench and squares his shoulders. Suddenly, there’s slow music playing and he’s standing in front of Namjoon - all 5 feet and 8 inches of him.

“Dance with me, hyung.”

“I get it now; you’re trying to humiliate me, aren’t you?” Namjoon asks incredulously.

Jimin fake-gasps. "I would never."

Let it be known Kim Namjoon is a strong person - but he's never been able to resist the twinkle in Jimin's eye, whether it's a reflection of the light or...or something magical. Jimin grabs the hand in Namjoon's pocket into his own; a welcome warmth.

In the blink of an eye, the summer passed and October is back with it's chilly promises - Namjoon thinks to almost a year ago, and marvels in the steady movement of Jimin's palm guiding his waist from side-to-side. They sway to the beat of the busker's music on the opposite side of the street, rhythmic and somehow Namjoon doesn't feel like an oaf with two left feet.

"Wow, it's almost like you're a professional;" Namjoon quips.

Jimin thwacks his shoulder but they're both laughing. They dance like this for what feels like hours, but it's only been a few minutes before Jimin stops their movements.

"Let's go for a walk, hyung."

Namjoon is just drunk enough on the night air and Jimin's touch that he says, "Sure," with dazed eyes, "let me tell the others we're leaving, hm?"

He starts to move but Jimin blocks his way abruptly. "No, hyung, let me. I have to remind Hobi hyung about a class anyway."

"Okay but be quick, I'm too cold to be stationary."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Jimin mocks with a salute.

Namjoon giggles at the gesture but acquiesces, kicking his shoes on the stray gravel that litters the pavement. There's a spot of love on his waist where Jimin had laid his hand.

Jimin steps through the door bundled in his blue peacoat, the image of chic. He blows warm breaths into his hands and smiles at Namjoon, whose heart is screaming inside his chest. Jimin’s hair is a fluffy blond now, and it looks soft in the orange glow of the lamplight. Jimin cocks his head to the side. “Shall we?”

They make their way through the lively neighborhood, Friday night bringing out the college kids in clubs and young couples whispering into each other’s ears at restaurant tables. Namjoon thinks about the neon light shining in their eyes and walks at a leisurely pace. Beside him, Jimin is mostly silent, with only the occasional comment on something they see on the street breaking the quiet.

"So how's Jungkook and his boyfriends?"

"They're good, I think." Namjoon tilts his head as he considers the question. He hasn't heard anything negative from Jungkook in a while, even if the trainer's worries don't always make it into the conversation. "I think Jin hyung was planning a getaway week to Japan with them because he's been stressed with finals."

"I forgot he's in school - what is he studying again?"

"Hm, exercise therapy, I believe."

"Wow," Jimin replies, "that's pretty cool."

Namjoon turns to look at Jimin. "He actually had a couple of dance and movement study classes in undergrad, Jimin-ah. I think you guys would have a lot to talk about."

Weirdly, Jimin pushes his shoulders to his ears while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets; if Namjoon wasn't convinced the lighting was off, he'd think that Jimin's ears and cheeks were red. "Yeah- yeah, it seems like it."

Eventually, their path diverges into a more residential neighborhood, and the stores peter out to a few and far in between - here, it's late enough that most of the lights in the home are out and only the street lamps flicker in and out around the moths flying around. Concrete pavement turns into narrower gravel; without realizing, they've moved closer to each other and bump shoulders.

Namjoon chuckles along with Jimin, who looks at him with funky eyebrows while nudging his shoulder.

"What?"

"Nothing." Jimin smiles.

A thousand suns and a thousand moons don't compare, but for tonight, he'll settle for escorting his star.

"Hyung."

"Hm?" Namjoon says, continuing forward.

Jimin grasps Namjoon's arm and his brain lights up in alarm bells and red flashes. "Hyuuuuung."

"What?"

"Sit with me." Jimin pouts, plopping into a wooden bench near by. His small hand pats the space next to him, and so Namjoon sits by the man. It's unusual - he's usually thinking a million things at once whenever he's out and alone with Jimin, but he feels none of it. None of the trains of thoughts slamming into anxieties and worries of blurting his affections to Jimin - maybe he has a better control of his words than he thought.

With an exhale, Namjoon folds himself into the bench, trying to rest his head against the back but failing. He rubs his thighs with open palms, feeling the heat from his legs seep into the wood of the bench.

A few beats pass. They stare at the quiet hum of the river passing them by, city lights twinkling across the wide expanse.

He should say something. It's weird to sit in silence, right? They're best friends, of course they should have something to talk about, right? Maybe he should ask Jimin about the next showcase at the Lantern Festival.

Or wait. Maybe he shouldn't say something either? What if this is one of those moments that's meant to be enjoyed in the quiet? He shouldn't mess that up.

Oh God, what does he do now?

Lucky for him, Jimin makes the decision easy.

"Have you ever thought about space?" Jimin asks. He scooches closer to Namjoon, arms wrapping around Namjoon's and it's so comfortable, so natural; Namjoon can barely breathe.

With a deep inhale and exhale, he speaks.

"Sometimes, yeah." Nice work, Namjoon. Concise and mysterious. "Alien shit and what not."

What the fuck Kim Namjoon.

Jimin's responding laugh makes the dumb words worth it, and though those bellows of laughter, "As entertaining as this thought is, my cutie hyung, I was thinking more along the lines of stars and planets and whatever else is out there."

"Sometimes, the world itself is too big to think about, much less thinking about what's beyond the sky."

He gets a raspberry in response. "Boooooring."

Namjoon giggles and turns to look at Jimin.

Gorgeous face, gorgeous eyes. Gorgeous soul. The kind that splinters into so many light shafts that you couldn't hope to count; the only thing you can do, is to sit and marvel as the brilliance submerges your eyes.

"What do you want me to say?"

Jimin catches his gaze and holds his eyes there with invisible strings, the crinkles bunching up in folds. "Whatever you think about the universe." He points to a group of dark clouds. "Like how those clouds look ominous and dark and maybe there's clouds like that out in space that rain laughing gas or something, I don't know hyung, you're the brain between us!"

Namjoon observes the clouds for a few seconds, trying to find the words that Jimin is looking for. It's hard to think beyond the boundaries of his world, encompassing Jimin and himself, and his friends and family, but maybe there's more that Namjoon needs to learn. He focuses back on the clouds but then, he notices something. "Those clouds look like they're moving- really fast-"

Jimin's eyes widen. "Is that-"

The moment is shattered with a strike of lightning and thunder in the sky, and the skies open in a heavy shower. Namjoon and Jimin sprint off the bench and meander their way through the parks.

"Through here, hyung!" Jimin yells over the roar, gesturing under the trees lining the path. The cover isn't ideal, but it helps when they can slow at least a little from a sprint to a jog.

As they near the street, Namjoon catches sight of an awning spanning across the pavement in front the convenience store display. He seizes Jimin's arm and pulls him in the direction of the shelter and they huddle under the plastic roof that flaps in the wind.

They're laughing again, because what else do they do?

"You had to point at the creepy, dark rain clouds?" Namjoon asks, wiping fingers across his face. They're soaked but the coats do their job and keep their phones dry, after quick checks.

"Are you seriously trying to blame me?" Jimin sticks his tongue out and runs a hand through his hair, ever the ethereal person he is.

Namjoon - he's been in love with Jimin his whole life. Sometimes he wonders if there has ever been a time he hasn’t searched for Jimin’s eyes through a crowd, or looked to hold his hand when they cross a street (which is ridiculous, they’re adults), or not wanted to wipe a smear of flour that sits on Jimin’s cheek as they bake together.

His feet spin around to face Jimin with his whole body intending to make a joke, but the words die in his mouth. They're standing so close, just an inch apart.

“Is this how you plan to live?”

The heavy rain is continuous; across the street, a woman walks as fast as she can. A rumble in the sky follows another flash, and Namjoon shivers.

"Jimin-ah."

Jimin peels his eyes away from the treeline of the park to latch onto Namjoon's eyes. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

A sweet smile is returned, but a part of it doesn't reach Jimin's eyes. "I love you too hyung."

"No, Jimin-ah," Namjoon shakes his head and throws his shoulders back, refusing to back out. The wind is blowing in the right direction, for once, and he can't stop, "I'm in love with you."

The weight on his shoulders lifts, and Namjoon inhales the petrichor.

Jimin's mouth pops into a circle. "Oh."

"And I don't expect you to say anything back. I've been in love with you for the longest time and- and I had to say it. So I just," Namjoon sighs, "yeah."

Raindrops hitting the pavement are a welcome sound - it fills the space between them. He's never felt further apart from Jimin than now.

Jimin doesn't say anything immediately, instead nods and purses his lips.

Namjoon makes to step back but he's yanked forward with surprising strength. He's only able to hold on Jimin's shoulders to remain stable but he's not able to look at Jimin anymore. It's too much, too fast and he can't handle the disappointed look in Jimin's face that will inevitably be there, in the torn tatters of their friendship. Because he's done this now.

"I didn't say you could move,” says Jimin..

"I'm- what?" A hand guides his face to the center. "Hyung. Hyung, look at me, please."

He finally acquiesces, turning to see Jimin but he's caught off-guard by the lips on his, stumbling back. It's clumsy, and mismatched - almost awkward. Jimin pulls back and his face is forming one of panic and confusion and-

"I love you, hyung. I have for months now, and I was too stupid to not notice before but," Jimin swallows," I'm here now. And, and if you'll have me," Jimin wraps his hand into Namjoon's, "I'd love to show you."

-love.

Namjoon feels like he's run a mile in just a few seconds. His breathing is hard, heavy, matching the beat of the rain but he's in disbelief. So instead, he shuffles ahead and places a loving palm on Jimin's neck, tilting his neck up and leaning in, eyes fluttering close.

It's fireworks, explosions behind his eyes but Namjoon has never felt music thrum in his veins this way before, a rush of adrenaline and the pull on his body of a soft hand. He's spent all too much time thinking about what it would be like to kiss Jimin - but there's no way he could've conjured this image, this feeling.

The kind that makes him feel like he's not close enough to Jimin, tongue pushing into Jimin's mouth to close the gap and it's soft and slow and- and wonderful.

A thumb caresses his cheek, gentle and pretty.

They separate their lips. Namjoon presses his forehead to Jimin's, warm and soft against his, and revels in the love.