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there’s a certain type of tiredness that doesn’t come from hours of meetings or rehearsing. it doesn’t come from the time spent in training rooms or the studio, or whatever it is namjoon spends his days doing.
there’s a certain type of tiredness that comes from somewhere deeper than all of that. it’s a fatigue that settles in his bones, wriggles into his veins and refuses to come out.
namjoon doesn’t feel like that all the time, but he does some days. he does today.
comfort comes in the form of the small things that stay familiar, stay regular even when nothing else does. it’s an issue, namjoon thinks, how much he’s grown to rely on certain aspects of his life always being the same. things like: his bedroom curtains always an inch open so the moonlight can come through. like his manager hoseok waking him up with a poke to his left dimple.
like a warm studio and gentle eyes and a rough voice ready to greet him behind the second door on the fourth floor of the company building, the one labeled “genius lab.”
namjoon thinks, as the lock opens with a soft beep, that he doesn’t care that he’s a little too dependent on yoongi. he just wants to see him.
“namjoon-ah,” yoongi says, turning around in his chair. his dark hair has grown a little too long now, always falling into his eyes, and although namjoon was aware of this fact seeing yoongi with his hair tied up in a little sprout is devastating. yoongi’s mask is at his chin and he’s in one of his big loose jumpers. it’s yellow today.
“hyung,” namjoon says. he wants to be hugged by yoongi so badly, but he squashes the feeling down and flops onto the couch instead.
“long day?” yoongi asks, rolling over to the couch on his chair. namjoon blinks up at him, hums a little.
“yeah. was writing for a long time but it wasn’t really working. had a couple meetings too. concept stuff.”
yoongi gets up. he’s wearing loose basketball shorts. absently, namjoon admires his legs. they’re such pretty legs. he’s surprised by yoongi sitting down beside his head and tugging at namjoon’s shirt a little.
“come up, come on.”
namjoon, because he lacks self preservation skills and has an excess of stupidity, lets yoongi manoeuvre him so his head is on yoongi’s thighs.
yoongi starts carding his fingers through namjoon’s hair which makes namjoon’s eyes flutter shut. he has to suppress an honest to god moan.
“you could have come to me,” yoongi says. namjoon can hear the pout in his voice.
“no, i couldn’t have. you were in the recording studio with the kids.”
namjoon feels more than hears yoongi’s sigh, feels the rise and fall of his stomach.
“you’re right, i wouldn’t have been able to help.” yoongi pauses, both in speaking and in combing through namjoon’s hair, and it’s long enough for namjoon to crack an eye open. yoongi is staring into the middle distance, biting at the inside of his cheek.
“what are you thinking?” namjoon asks.
yoongi looks down at him and his expression softens.
“that they work all you idols too hard. you and the kids too. jimin’s been having so much trouble since the dance coach snapped at him the other day. i worry about him. and you… when was the last time you had a break, joon-ah?”
namjoon chuckles a little. “we didn’t get into this for the leave, hyung.”
“you didn’t,” yoongi agrees. “but it’s barely been half a month since your tour ended. two months since mono .”
“there’s still a little while till this next album, hyung,” namjoon reasons. he sits up and faces yoongi. “you don’t need to worry about me so much.”
“of course i do.”
and namjoon can see the tension on his shoulders, just a little bit.
because here’s how it went, all those years ago:
rap mon and min suga. cypher. they had a little hype before debut - nothing to write home about, but not something to scoff at either.
and then, an accident. a hospital room and a fucked up shoulder and a terminated contract. yoongi-ssi, we can keep you on as a producer. your talent is too good to waste. ( but not good enough to debut. )
so rm became a one man show and suga became an inhouse producer.
namjoon knows that sometimes yoongi still feels like he’s the reason namjoon has to work twice as hard, be twice as good. because there were supposed to be two of them.
“i’m doing okay, hyung,” namjoon says quietly. “i’m okay.”
yoongi sighs again and namjoon watches in silence as he pulls the pink hair tie out and smooths his hair back down, parted in the middle. he looks pretty. namjoon wants to touch him, settles for reaching forward and taking the hair tie out his fingers.
“did one of the kids give you this?”
yoongi nods and leans his head against the back of the couch, facing namjoon. “it’s taehyungie’s.”
namjoon smiles a little at that. “of course it is. hyung looked cute, with your hair like that.”
yoongi rolls his eyes and suppresses a smile, but namjoon can see his cheeks colouring a little.
“what do you want from me, namjoon-ah? complimenting me like that.”
namjoon breaks into a grin. “hyungie’s cute. got pretty hair.”
yoongi honest to god pouts at him, sticking out his lower lip and frowning. (namjoon wants to kiss the plush curve of his lips so much. wants so badly.)
(namjoon recalls, three years ago:
drinking with yoongi and hoseok and all their company friends and feeling giddy and light and giving yoongi a sloppy kiss on the cheek on the doorstep, and yoongi pouting like he is now and namjoon thinking nothing but okay and kissing yoongi there too.
yoongi did not kiss back.
yoongi laughed, told namjoon goodnight, and shut the door. he was already red from drinking so namjoon couldn’t tell if he’d blushed. neither of them mentioned it the next day. neither of them has mentioned it since.)
“namjoon,” yoongi says, stretching the hair tie out in his fingers and looking down at it. “you should go to your apartment. get some rest. you need it.”
“hyung. so do you.”
yoongi quirks his lip. “you know i hate my apartment.”
“come to mine,” namjoon says immediately. “mine’s so …” namjoon drifts off. lonely, he was going to say. “big. it can fit a tiny hyung like you, come on.”
“namjoon-ah,” yoongi whines.
namjoon picks yoongi’s hands up in his own and pulls him up so they’re both standing. he pats the top of yoongi’s head lightly. “see? tiny hyung.”
yoongi scoffs. “sure. just let tiny hyung shut down his computer and we’re good to go.”
namjoon fiddles with his phone as yoongi shuts everything down in the background. he’s got a couple texts from hoseok reminding him of his schedule tomorrow, a link from jeongguk to a video called clean vines i can watch with my grandad, and a twitter notification that tells him that at midnight the company uploaded the first teaser for the kids’ comeback. he opens that one to retweet it with magic shop fighting!!!! ^-^ - hyung and watches as the replies flood in in a mixture of languages.
go to sleep ㅠㅠ
COME TO MEXICO NEXT WORLD TOUR PLEASE
he called himself hyung :((
namjoon said moniemagic rights!
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH
I MISS YOU COME BACK TO PARIS SOON
“i’m ready,” yoongi says. namjoon looks up from his phone to see yoongi in a big black coat and clutching his rucksack in his arms. he looks warm and small.
“won’t you get warm in that?”
yoongi squints at him. “won’t you get cold in that?”
“you know i don’t get cold. hyung. come on, there’s a company car outside.”
yoongi smirks a little. “a company car, hm?”
namjoon lets out a long suffering sigh. “don’t tease, hyung.”
“korea’s biggest solo rapper, and he can’t drive,” yoongi muses.
something occurs to namjoon. “didn’t you drive here? you can’t leave your car behind.”
yoongi glances at namjoon and then looks away, so quickly that namjoon might’ve not even noticed he’d looked in the first place if he wasn’t constantly tuned in to yoongi’s every movement. “i take the subway, namjoon-ah.”
namjoon blinks and immediately feels small and ignorant, sick to his stomach because it’s a sudden and stark reminder that outside of the company buildings, yoongi exists as an entirely separate entity, leading a normal life.
yoongi exhales softly and reaches out to take namjoon’s hand in his, squeezes it once, a silent - something. acknowledgement, maybe. forgiveness, perhaps. it’s funny, how he’s inches shorter than namjoon but his hand is almost the same size.
funny how it fits just right in namjoon’s.
the ride back to namjoon’s apartment passes in relative silence, the company driver seemingly unphased by namjoon’s companion.
not that there was anything to be phased by. this was yoongi, and it was a well known fact that rapper rm was close with the company’s most coveted in-house producer.
yoongi leans his head against the window and almost looks like he’s fallen asleep, but for the faint patterns he traces out on namjoon’s hand, touch feather light and seemingly random.
(later, yoongi will tell him, face hidden:
in the car, on your hand. i was writing over and over again. 사랑해. i love you)
yoongi really must be tired, though, because he’s silent the whole ride up to namjoon’s apartment. it occupies half of the twenty third floor, and the neighbouring apartment belongs to some chinese model who’s never in the country. namjoon’s met him once and never hopes to meet him again. looking that man in the eye, namjoon could physically feel his self esteem withering away into the ether.
namjoon is dragged out of his thoughts by the sound of the code being punched in. right, yoongi knows his code. how does yoongi know his code?
“jungkook’s birthday last year,” yoongi says, sensing namjoon’s surprise. “you were very drunk. i brought you back.”
namjoon feels his cheeks flush as he recalls the night. right, yoongi had brought a date, tentative and excited to be introducing him to all of his friends, and namjoon had gotten off his face because he couldn’t stand the sight of this handsome man’s arm around yoongi.
that relationship of yoongi’s had lasted eight months.
(namjoon has not been in a relationship in his seven years since debut because he is already hopelessly, desperately in love.)
(with yoongi.)
“don’t be embarrassed,” yoongi says, smile evident in his voice. “you were just being very affectionate. it was cute.”
namjoon lets out a little whine and follows yoongi into the apartment.
it’s certainly big, but that’s all there is to it. most of it had been decorated already by some professional interior designers, and try as namjoon might to buy overpriced, obscure furniture that he thought might fit his vibe, he could not make this place feel like any more of a home.
there was no real home for people in his line of work. he wasn’t at home in hotels on tour, he wasn’t at home in his big empty apartment, and he wasn’t at home staying in his childhood room in ilsan, staring up at a ceiling covered in glow in the dark stars that had long faded into dimness.
he was at home on stage. and, his traitorous heart whispered, he was at home when he was with -
“i’m just gonna take whatever from your closet,” yoongi says, throwing his rucksack towards namjoon’s couch without glancing to see where it landed.
it landed perfectly, but that was just yoongi all over, wasn’t it?
“go ahead,” namjoon says, even though he knows yoongi didn’t need his approval.
while yoongi found something to wear, namjoon washed up in the bathroom, going through the skincare routine that the makeup noonas had drilled into him mostly just via muscle memory. his mind was on yoongi.
he was good at hiding his feelings, usually. okay, maybe not good, but good enough. adequate at it. he fluctuated. today was dangerously low on the scale, and the fact that he had invited yoongi over knowing this is yet another testament to the fact that his sense of self preservation is always, seemingly, on leave.
namjoon stares his reflection down. don’t do anything stupid , he hears it scolding him. don’t be selfish .
by the time namjoon is out of the bathroom, yoongi is changed into an old sweater of namjoon’s and sweatpants that fit suspiciously well, and is hovering by the kettle in namjoon’s kitchen looking at his phone.
“remember to make sure the blue light filter is on, hyung,” namjoon says, getting himself a glass of water. “you know how the screen messes with your sleep.”
yoongi looks up at him with a peculiar smile that namjoon can’t quite place. “of course, namjoon-ah.” yoongi clears his throat. “these fit surprisingly well,” he says, nodding down at his legs, changing the subject.
“they might be jiminie’s. i have the boys over a lot.”
“i know,” yoongi says, sounding amused. “they adore you. jungkook especially.”
“they adore you ,” namjoon says. “soohyun noona gets jealous, i’m pretty sure. she writes more of their music with them but they’re always clamouring around you.”
yoongi’s responding smile is wide and genuine, like he knows that, and it pleases him to know namjoon does too.
“how’s it going with them, anyway?”
namjoon busies himself clearing away some things left in the kitchen while yoongi follows along, walking behind him when he heads to the linen closet, updating namjoon on magic shop’s new music, how jimin and taehyung were writing lyrics and how jungkook tried his hand at producing.
he pauses when namjoon takes out a duvet.
“what is it, hyung?” when he turns around, yoongi is biting at the skin of his thumb, hand barely peeking out from his sleeves. namjoon gently pulls his hand away.
“don’t i normally share your bed?” he asks quietly. “i mean - i wouldn’t want to - i just -”
“oh, hyung,” namjoon says, surprised. “i was just going on autopilot. of course. i want you - uh. i want you to share my bed, that’s what we, you know. always do.” namjoon feels his cheeks warming, because even though when yoongi’s stayed over before he has shared namjoon’s bed, it wasn’t something that they decided on prior, it was just that they were both tired and that was where they ended up. when namjoon had anyone else over, he made up a guest bed for them.
namjoon would be lying if he said he didn’t want to share with yoongi. yoongi didn’t take up a lot of space, but he was warm and slept close. his presence was comforting to namjoon, who so often thought himself awake for hours and hours on end.
before namjoon can say anything else, yoongi shuts the closet door for him and grabs him by the shoulders, steers him away.
“come on,” he says. “to your bed.”
yoongi’s hands are a little cool where his fingers touch the bare skin where the collar of namjoon’s shirt has stretched and he suppresses a shiver.
it isn’t awkward, climbing into bed beside yoongi, because he was right, this is what they usually do. but namjoon’s brain is a little bit haywire and it’s acting in ways he hasn’t told it to.
“you weren’t doing so well earlier,” yoongi says once they’re lying in bed, half a foot separating their bodies. they’re not touching, but still, yoongi’s warmth bridges the distance. he doesn’t whisper - he doesn't need to; they’re the only ones in the apartment. he doesn’t whisper but his voice is low anyway. “how are you feeling?”
namjoon stares at the ceiling, and he’s too tired to lie. and besides, this is yoongi.
“lonely.”
“you don’t have to be.”
namjoon sighs, long and low. “i’m surrounded by people, constantly. i don’t even spend that much time physically alone. and yet somehow, i feel more alone than ever.”
yoongi’s hand comes up to rest on his cheek, feather-light and gentle, and namjoon finally looks away from the ceiling and at yoongi, instead.
they’re so close.
“you’re not alone,” yoongi breathes, leaning towards namjoon, so close, he’s so close, namjoon is trying to make eye contact but he ends up looking at his lips. “you’re not alone,” yoongi repeats. “you have me.”
namjoon has wanted yoongi for so long that he knows the feeling as well as he knows how to breathe. it’s a special kind of self flagellation that he practises by letting himself stay so close to yoongi and not letting his feelings go away.
so yoongi is close to namjoon, now. yoongi is centimetres away from namjoon’s face, whispering tender words in his bed in the late night, and namjoon is used to wanting yoongi.
but then yoongi kisses him.
simple, small. a gentle press of their mouths together, a little shift as they slot into place, sweet slow movement.
kissing yoongi is new. namjoon doesn’t count that night three years ago, so kissing yoongi is brand new.
yoongi pulls back, just enough to look into namjoon’s eyes. there’s little light in the room, just what filters through the gaps in the blinds, but yoongi’s eyes capture it and reflect it. they shine. wide, genuine.
“you’ve never been alone, namjoon-ah,” yoongi breathes.
“i’ve been in love with you for seven years,” namjoon says. the dark and the kisses finally coax honesty from him and it tastes sweet on his tongue.
“i’m sorry you had to wait,” yoongi whispers. “i have loved you for so long that i don’t know how else to be. i was afraid i’d overwhelm you with it.”
“you could never.” namjoon loves yoongi, and yoongi loves namjoon.
“we do so well as we are,” yoongi releases his fear into the space between them. his voice doesn’t tremble.
namjoon curls his fingers in the hair at yoongi’s nape. “we could do even better like this,” he says. “i trust you with this. do you trust me?”
“of course.”
“good,” namjoon says, and he kisses him.
yoongi smiles into it.
there’s something else about kissing yoongi that namjoon can’t quite pinpoint, but when he does, he nearly laughs. yes, this is brand new but at the same time:
somehow, kissing yoongi is —
familiar.