Archive of Our Own

As an overly-passionate teenager, Namjoon used to fantasize about having fancy clothes and a nice apartment in a good part of Seoul. Having those things was the end-goal for success and happiness. Ha. How wrong he was.

This morning he locked the door to his fancy apartment in the best part of Seoul, wearing designer clothes, going in a expensive car to work. As he walked into Rkive, images of his past self came to his mind. Namjoon at seventeen, scrawny, insecure and angry at the world. He was so naive, clad in his sunglasses thinking happiness was an easy problem to solve. He had so many dreams, so many idealistic thoughts about how his life should go. Namjoon is living that past-dream. His words have been spread wide over the world. He’s reached so much and been seen by so many, then why does he sometimes feel invisible? He has all the things he thought would make him happy. Namjoon wishes he was happier because of all these things, then maybe he could stop and really, truly, love the things given to him. Instead of appreciating the world around him, Namjoon finds himself wondering if he deserves it. 

There’s a knock on the door, Namjoon glances down at his paper where he’s written and crossed out the word happy all across the page. He hopes whoever is at the door is not someone asking for writing advice.

“Come in,” Namjoon speaks loudly and the door opens. It’s Seokjin. Namjoon's stomach drops.

“Hey, Namjoon-ah. There’s a car taking us home in 10 minutes, Do you want to join us?” Seokjin is leaning against the door frame, looking at Namjoon expectantly. He looks tired, the skin around his eyes a little red. “Yoongi and I are eating pork belly later if you want to join,” Seokjin adds with a small smile on his face.

Namjoon looks at him and his bones vibrate with how much he misses Seokjin. His family, Bangtan, are the only source of happiness that is lasting. Namjoon can write the word happy a thousand times until it has lost its meaning, and that will still be true. Yet, looking back at Seokjin, the words are jumbled and he’s unsure which word to define him with.

Seokjin nervously tucks his hands under the sleeves of his sweater as he waits for an answer. Namjoon’s stomach is growling, dinner sounds nice - the problem is that Seokjin and Namjoon haven’t been speaking. This thing between them, it’s not an active fight; They haven’t torn each other’s hair out like Jimin and Taehyung used to do. It’s passive, this tension between them. Seokjin used to sit next to him during meetings, lunch breaks, car rides. Now they barricade the others as a distance between them.

Something broke between them, Namjoon isn’t sure it can be fixed. He knows that a lot of friendships dissolve slowly over time, like how ice melts from a lake. The ice thins out slowly, from the middle and then it releases its grip on the shore until the ice is gone. Seokjin didn’t melt slowly away from Namjoon, no, Namjoon threaded an ice too thin and fell through, soaking himself in piercingly cold water. There was no life-line, no one to help him repair what he broke between them.

For some small moments, Namjoon has been able to convince himself there’s nothing wrong. During a photoshoot, Seokjin laughed, leaned in close towards him and put his hand on Namjoon’s chest, just like he used to. Warmth spread throughout Namjoon’s gut. Everything was fine. Namjoon felt giddy for the rest of the photoshoot so much so that afterwards he followed Seokjin to the dressing rooms like a lost puppy, hoping to get attention again.

Too quickly, Namjoon went from feeling warm to feeling like the winter wind blowing past the windows outside. Seokjin sat down next to Jungkook on the couches, focused on his phone. A whirlwind of stylists and hairdressers flooded through the room and Namjoon sat watching Seokjin, hoping he’d look back up at him and smile. He never did.

But here Seokjin was again, reaching out. Something about it felt hollow. Sure, Namjoon could come along to eat. He could pretend once again that everything was fine, but the weird cold tension would still be there between them. Namjoon would hang his head in shame, knowing it was his own damn fault.

“Go ahead, I’ll order something here. Have fun with Yoongi-Hyung.” Namjoon tells Seokjin, and he suddenly has to swallow back a wave of sadness. Seokjin’s gaze on him grows intense like he’s staring into the black ocean storming inside of Namjoon’s mind. If it was a month ago, Seokjin would probably have stayed if he knew Namjoon was sad. He would’ve forced Namjoon to stop working, grabbed his arm so they could drink some tea together. Instead of staying and asking what’s going on, Seokjin closes the door to Namjoon’s studio and leaves.

Namjoon starts up another song on his computer and the words and chords come flowing to him.

Outside, a wind picks up in speed and the trees bend to the winds strong will. Namjoon works tirelessly until the early morning hours, not noticing the storm or the weird heavy headache washing over him until he’s overcome by it. His limbs tingle in an uncomfortable sensation as he barely makes it onto the couch and passes out.

Namjoon wakes slowly and as he opens his eyes he quickly realises he is not in his studio. Panic rises in his chest, he doesn’t have any memory of going home last night.

Last night, Namjoon had ended up taking a nap on his studio couch instead of calling for a car home. But here he is, lying under soft covers on a soft mattress. So where is he? He’s certainly not in his apartment. His bedroom walls were not tinted green. They were a shade of ivory white paired with a dark wooden ceiling. Is he still dreaming? He pinches the skin on his wrist. It stings red and the pain feels too alert for him to still be sleeping.

Namjoon rolls over in the bed, he feels it first, the warmth of hot naked skin against his. There’s a man in the bed next to him, with his broad naked back turned against Namjoon. His face is hidden in the pillows, no possible identification but the jet-black hair. What did Namjoon do last night? How come he doesn’t remember any of it? Despite the lingering irritation on his wrist, Namjoon concludes he must be dreaming.

“Jagiya.” The person mumbles groggily. They turn around and reach their arm across Namjoon’s torso. “You’re so warm.” He mumbles, In an instant, Namjoon realises it’s Seokjin, his black hair sticking up from all sides and his cheeks red from the imprint of the pillow. He looks so soft and comforting, so reminiscent of what Namjoon has associated with home for the past ten years.

“What time is it?” Seokjin wonders, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He reaches his arm, the one just around Namjoon, out to the end of the bed and fumbles around with his hand to find the phone lying on the bedside table.

Suddenly as Namjoon progressively wakes up, his brain catches up to the situation. Why isn’t Seokjin freaking out? Why are they in bed together? Seokjin has barely looked at him lately. Why would they cuddle now all of a sudden?

“Hyung, What happened last night?” As Namjoon pulls at his covers, he manages a peek down at his body. He’s naked. Butt naked. Next to Seokjin. What did they do? Has he been drugged? Is he going insane? Is it a prank?!

Seokjin turns around an amused look on his face like Namjoon is telling a joke.
“Was it that underwhelming? Are you becoming so old already you need reminders? Joonie? Here I thought I had gotten myself a younger husband”

A younger husband? Namjoon’s heartbeat painfully hard in his chest. He doesn’t understand.

“You’re still in your twenties, you’re so young, it’s too soon to be forgetting things,” Seokjin tells him dramatically until he seems to read Namjoon’s facial expression. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?” Seokjin brushes some hair away from Namjoon’s face, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Seokjin hasn’t reached out and touched him like this, not in forever. Namjoon feels cold. He must be dreaming because Seokjin probably hates him now. It’s Namjoon’s fault things became weird between them.

In a dream the corners of reality are blurry and something you can’t name is off. Seokjin’s warm fingers caressing his forehead are real, there’s no static. Could it be a coma induced hallucination? Is real life Namjoon lying somewhere with an injured head?

“Joon-ah” Seokjin puts his hand on Namjoon’s resting on his chest. Namjoon looks down at their overlapping hands. There’s a thick silver ring on Seokjin’s ring finger. An identical matching one on Namjoon’s. His heart jumps.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you feel sick?” Seokjin puts the back of his hand against Namjoon’s forehead.

“I’m okay. I just got confused from a dream.” Namjoon replies, because that’s what this is - A dream.

“Hm. You must be very confused. You haven’t called me Hyung since we got married.” Married?
Seokjin smiles this smile that Namjoon has permanently etched into a corner of his heart. Of course, the smile has made it into Namjoon’s dreams to break his heart. Seokjin’s smile is always breathtaking, but this smile is Namjoon’s favourite. It’s not the dazzling superstar smile he uses for the cameras or the crowds, no. It’s the smile that shows up in late-night hotel hangouts or at a balcony watching a red sunset. It’s a soft smile reserved for the people dearest to him. If he’s in a coma he must be dying, right? Is this his brain's last gift to himself before he passes?

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” Namjoon replies, waiting for the moment he can wake up and go about his day. His dream is insisting on making up stories about him and Seokjin being married? Sure, it used to be a fun joke that bounced around between them. Seokjin was a catch, he himself knew it, Namjoon knew it. The members knew it and liked making jokes about the two of them being married, in Hawaii, in interviews. Jimin was always adamant about how good they were together. Namjoon knew that of course, he did. Namjoon just never felt good enough. Seokjin deserves the world, and Namjoon was just, well, Namjoon.

“Seriously though. I’m worried about you. If you feel weird, come downstairs and tell me, okay?” Seokjin brushes some more hair out of Namjoon’s forehead and he just nods, trying to combat a sudden bout of nausea.

“I gotta get downstairs to work.” Seokjin sighs, unwillingly getting out of bed, sounding by a deep groan.

Namjoon feels his face heat up as he realises Seokjin is naked too, walking over to the big wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room. He’s seen Seokjin naked many times but to see the expanse of the muscles in his back with the context of him being naked too? Heat curls in his stomach in a familiar way at the sight, burning and threatening to consume him. Namjoon tries to distract himself, so he looks around the room curiously. He deliberately lets his eyes fall around the room where Seokjin isn’t, the room looks like nothing he’s ever been in before, yet somehow it carries a feeling of home. The earthy tone of the room surely is Namjoon’s taste, even the plushies that sit on the windowsill feel like home.

“Babe, did you steal my Nasa sweater again?” Seokjin wonders, looking over his shoulder with a look of disdain on his face.

“‘Me?”

“Yes, you. Who else would steal my favourite clothes?” Seokjin rolls his eyes, then he pulls on his underwear and socks in a quick sweep. Namjoon should avert his eyes again as Seokjin puts his clothes on but the time it takes for Namjoon’s brain to catch up from a system-overload, Seokjin is fully dressed and by the bedside leaning over Namjoon with a smile.

“See you at lunch, and stop stealing my nerdy sweaters.” Seokjin leans down and presses their lips together, it’s chaste, quick. Yet Namjoon’s heart beats with such force he thinks it might burst out of his chest.

Seokjin turns around to leave and Namjoon brings his fingertips against his lips, still tingling from the kiss. He's sure the press of Seokjin’s lips against his is too real for it to be a dream. He’s felt it, once before.

Seokjin disappears to work, Namjoon grabs the phone he assumes to be his, and walks to the wardrobe and picks out some random clothes to pull on and decides to look around, to try to figure out what is going on.

Namjoon is still sleepy as he enters a kitchen. It reminds Namjoon of the second dorm room they moved into. The room is narrow, so small that the round kitchen table looks a little cramped. Despite its size, It looks more homely than anything else.

The kitchen is like an echo of a memory, It’s Namjoon and Seokjin standing close together leaning over the kitchen counter in their old dorm. Whenever Seokjin attempted to cook dinner for the members, Namjoon wanted to be next to him, helping in the few things he could. That’s how they grew together, slowly but surely like vines grow into each other to form a single unity. They started sharing inside jokes while Namjoon failed to chop an onion, a burst of quiet laughter between just the two of them. Namjoon will forever hold those cooking evenings close to his heart, even though it’s been years since they last did such a thing. He starts the pink coffee machine standing on the counter, struggling to find coffee beans and figure out how it works. As the coffee drips into the warm can, Namjoon walks into the next room, flashes of distant dorm memories sinking back.

Namjoon eyes himself in the bathroom mirror. He’s not sleepy anymore, he feels wide awake now. It doesn’t feel like he’s dreaming. He doesn’t look or feel any different. His hair is still that reddish-brown, There is a hint of stubble on his chin and a little cut from when he shaved yesterday. As he stares back at himself, everything he can see of himself to the tiles of the bathroom walls are too detailed for it to be a dream. Namjoon doesn’t understand.
It’s not a dream, but it’s not reality either. Is he going insane?

In the hallway, A big picture hangs on the white wide wall. Around it, there are scattered small photos, like the planets orbiting the sun. The wall is opposite what looks like the entry door. These pictures are the first thing you see when you enter their apartment. The centrepiece, the greatest joy.

The biggest picture is a black and white picture of himself and Seokjin dressed up in suits, smiling from ear to ear, holding each other. There’s no doubt in Namjoon’s mind about what kind of occasion it depicts. It’s a wedding picture. Namjoon dares to step closer to examine the photo, There’s a date in the corner of it, August 24th. A late summer wedding? Namjoon always imagined himself getting married in the spring with cherry blossom leaves whirling in the wind, but seeing the orange sunset makes Namjoon think that, yeah. Late summer weddings are nice.
One of the smaller photos next to the wedding photo catches Namjoon’s attention. They’re a lot younger in it, Seokjin with a choppy brown haircut and Namjoon with black short hair and deep dimples. Years earlier, they’re just as happy holding onto each other. No date, but there’s magnitude in it. It’s love just as deep and life-consuming as the wedding photo.

Something stings terribly in Namjoon’s heart. He averts his eyes and to the end of the hallway.

There’s a staircase leading down somewhere beyond the entry door. Namjoon has never in his life been able to curb his curiosity, and he might as well go explore this weird dream reality and he starts padding down the stairs carefully, one blue and one pink cup filled with coffee. Namjoon can hear muffled voices through the door. The voices get clearer and louder with each step he takes and he hears Seokjin’s laugh ring through the building.

As he reaches the end of the staircase, he opens the door and walks right into a bookstore.

“Isn’t it hard being married and working together? You spend so much time together,” An old lady asks, standing by the cash register. “I would probably not be married anymore if I worked with my husband.”

“Sometimes it’s hard, but I would argue that a lot of relationships fail because of the lack of quality time spent together. I like spending time with him,” Seokjin explains kindly, then he looks around the room and spots Namjoon.

“You okay Joonie? Weren’t you going to edit today? You’ve stolen my clothes again.” Seokjin is immediately by his side, seemingly still worried about the state of Namjoon.

“Oh. I didn’t think about it. I’m okay .” Namjoon murmurs back. He’s not sleepy anymore, but his confusion grows. “Here’s coffee.” Namjoon hands Seokjin the pink cup with the cute cats on it.

“Thanks, baby.” Seokjin beams, mug held tightly in his hands.

“You seem to like each other a lot.” The old lady comments as she puts a book in her bag. “Goodbye Seokjin-ssi and Namjoon-ssi.”

“Goodbye Hye-ssi.”

The bookstore is empty again, just the two of them.

“I’m gonna go look around,” Namjoon tells Seokjin who barely even reacts as Namjoon caresses the length of his back in passing, too busy counting the exchange in the cash register.

Namjoon’s heart keeps thumping hard at the different terms of endearment Seokjin keeps giving him. Baby? Namjoon’s heart flutters. He’s never liked the nickname baby before but when Dream-Seokjin calls him baby, it feels nice.

Namjoon threads deeper into their bookstore and drags his fingertips along the cherry wood bookshelves. He walks along the art book section, scanning the titles on the backs. He stops at a book about Edvard Munch and pulls it out. The cover of the book was the artist’s most famous work, The Scream. Namjoon has a copy of that book standing among the other artbooks he has on a shelf in his apartment. The iconic painting was created from a moment of mental down-spiral. Edvard Munch walked along a fjord with his friends, suddenly taken by anxiety as his friends walked on. Namjoon knows the feeling all too well, watching bodies of water flow by as he sees his world crumbling by his feet.

Namjoon jumps when the weight of a hand is on his shoulder so he turns around to be met by a wide boxy smile.

“Can you sell me that book 50% on sale?” Taehyung asks cheekily, pulling a burst of far laughter from Namjoon.

“You scared me and it’s bad for business.”

“Ah, Hyung you’re so easy to sneak up on, even with a doorbell and everything,” Taehyung tells him and pulls Namjoon into a hug. The pang in Namjoon’s chest tells him has missed Taehyung. In all his turmoil from fighting with Seokjin, Namjoon hasn’t played around with Taehyung like he used to. Hasn’t gotten a hug from him in ages either. Despite Namjoon believing that he’s in a dream, he pulls his arms tighter around his friend.

“How are you?” Namjoon asks, smiling as they pull apart a second later.

“My tomatoes and my cucumber are growing nicely! My avocado plant is suffering, however…” Taehyung trails off eyes looking into the void space in the room. Namjoon wonders where his mind has decided Taehyung likes plants. He’s always said he wanted to be a farmer, but Taehyung has never made any effort to do something like it. Maybe Namjoon should buy him a tomato plant.

Namjoon nods solemnly, smiling to himself. “Avocado trees are a little difficult to grow. Have you tried changing the soil? Also, how are you? no plants.”

“I tried with the soil. I’m okay, I think. It’s getting better. Jiminie is helping me buy a wardrobe tomorrow.” Taehyung smiles wistfully in a way that Namjoon doesn’t understand. Namjoon takes him in for a moment, notices the dark circles under his eyes, hair unkempt and lips downturned. Taehyung is still handsome as ever, but Namjoon can see it, A deep-rooted sadness. He saw the same look on his face in the mirror, not long ago. Taehyung moves past him towards the cash register.

“Hi, Jin-Hyung!”

Namjoon follows him to the back of the store again where Seokjin also greets Taehyung with a hug.
“Taehyung-ah, do you wanna come over for dinner tonight?” Seokjin asks him, kindness and happiness shining like the sun from his face. Suddenly, Namjoon can’t look away.

“Can I bring Jimin?”

“Yeah, of course, we’ll make a whole get-together of it, the whole gang!”

As Namjoon waits for Seokjin in the hallway, he picks up his phone. He marvels over the wonders of technology as bringing his face into view opens it easily. It’s not his phone, but his face is a perfect match. The first thing he sees is devastating, his phone background picture. It’s of him and Seokjin, faces pressed together. It’s clear to any outsider, how in love those people look. Namjoon’s stomach tightens. He presses on the photo album app. Is it prying when it’s his dream? For some reason, it feels like it is but Namjoon opens the app anyway. There are so many cute photos of Seokjin, Namjoon has a collection himself, but none as intimate as this. Namjoon scrolls up, he lands on a very naked still-photo of a video. It depicts Namjoon’s hands roaming Seokjin’s skin, red marks scattered around his neck. Namjoon’s stomach swoops and has the room always been this hot? These pictures are too detailed for it to be a dream. Or has Namjoon’s mind found a way to torture himself by creating this fantasy he thought he had stuffed far away into his subconscious?

“We need meat and some veggies, do you have your bus card?” Seokjin appears in the hallway, fumbling around in the closet for a warmer jacket to wear. He doesn’t seem to notice Namjoon’s heavy breathing or the burning sensation he feels on his cheeks.

“The weather is nice, can we walk?” Namjoon suggests looking out through the thin hallway window. The blue sky is turning pink and the sun caressing the rooftops, a good way to turn his mind from wandering back to that video.

“Yeah. Let’s walk. You’re good for me. You make me go outside.” Namjoon laughs, because Seokjin, his Seokjin, has said the same thing before. Is this Seokjin someone else? He seems so different, yet similar to the person he sees every day.

On the walk from the bookstore and they go down streets Namjoon feels very familiar to. He knows they’re probably in the Gwangjin district, but the more they walk he doesn’t exactly recognise the Seoul he’s grown to love. There are cherry blossoms in full bloom, pink caressing the entire city. It’s familiar but strange because only small fragments of it feel different, he can’t put a finger on it. The big picture of what Seoul is supposed to be is somehow changed like history played out slightly differently to build a slight disparate city.

A warm coloured sunbeam hits Seokjin as they’re walking. Namjoon’s breath hitches in his throat - struck by the beauty of him. His black hair shines in the sunlight, the cupid bow on his lip, his eyelashes catching a stream of light, his skin bathing in the golden hour. Namjoon has numerous times looked at Seokjin and appreciated how handsome he is. But it’s never felt this devastating before, as Seokjin is smiling and holding Namjoon’s hand.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Seokjin asks and Namjoon doesn’t miss the way his ears and cheeks tint a soft red.

“You’re so beautiful.” Namjoon hears himself say and watches how Seokjin’s ears grow even redder. Over the years, Namjoon has grown very fond of Seokjin’s shyness and ever reddening ears. Jungkook never hesitates to touch Seokjin’s ears whenever they turn red, he happily grabs them between his fingers. Namjoon has always wanted to do the same when he watched Jungkook do it. He’s never been brave enough. Namjoon lifts his free hand - the one not holding Seokjin’s- and caresses the side of Seokjin’s hair and his ear with the back of his finger. “Pretty.”

“Ya, I’m handsome, you married a ten! A real catch I might add!” Seokjin squeaks, flustered. He manages to turn a shade even more intense red. He’s so beautiful.

“I can’t believe I’m this lucky.” Namjoon agrees with him and squeezes his hand.

In between the aisles of the grocery store, Namjoon combs through his memory of the last time he went grocery shopping. He hasn’t gone by himself like this in a long time. A year ago? Two?

Namjoon looks away from the meat aisle to stare at Seokjin for a moment, who is inside his own world, happy looking at food. His gaze focuses on Seokjin’s hand resting against the freezer - the thick wedding band on his ring finger.

With every moment passing, the puzzle pieces of reality fall together and Namjoon realises that, maybe, he isn’t dreaming. The way the scenes play out in front of him is too sharp for it to be a dream. But that leaves a very big question. If not a dream, where is he? Is he in a coma, like he first thought? No. That doesn’t make sense. Could it be an alternative reality? Namjoon read a book like it once, the characters went through a dimension without them knowing, and they met another reality and they solved problems to help them in their respective world. The book ended with the characters getting magical powers but that solution won't be very beneficial to Namjoon’s situation. He doesn’t know exactly where in the realm of reality he is, how or why he is here in the first place. He would panic if he was left alone in a situation like this, but watching Seokjin brings his increasing heart rate down. How did Namjoon, whichever version the universe has of him, get lucky enough to marry Seokjin? Kind, hilarious, beautiful, Seokjin.

“Shopping with you is nice, remember when-“ Namjoon catches himself from continuing because this Seokjin would not know what he was talking about. He wouldn’t remember that night the two of them sneaked out of a hotel in Kyoto to a 7-eleven and bought ice cream. It didn’t happen to him, this Seokjin is someone else. That much Namjoon is certain. Namjoon changes his grip on the basket. Suddenly, the few groceries felt heavy to hold.

“Remember what?” Seokjin glances at him and Namjoon feels for the first time the entire day, Namjoon wishes he was back in his regular reality. He thinks back to running around Kyoto with Seokjin eating ice cream under neon lights despite it being freezing temperatures. Seokjin’s cold bitten cheeks, laughter ringing as Namjoon danced like a dork in the snow. That was where he belonged, not here, even if he desperately wanted to.

“Ah, it’s nothing,”. Namjoon replies softly. Would he ever get to experience something like Kyoto again?

“Mom called me and told me to give beautiful Namjoon good food. So, What do you wanna eat, Joon-ah?” Seokjin looks up from the packaging in his hands.

Namjoon tries to shake off the feeling of disillusion and to stay in the moment. He was here now, for whatever reason. Namjoon doesn’t believe in gods or fate but he was sent here by something so maybe he should listen to whatever they’re trying to tell him?
“Maybe something healthy? I can’t sustain myself on ramen.” Namjoon suggests, looking at Seokjin, soaking him in, the moment in.

“No noodles for my noodly boy?” Seokjin’s eyes glint looking back at Namjoon and he laughs so loudly that an old man looks at them disgruntled. He wiggles his arms, like a noodly boy. Seokjin laughs equally loudly and obnoxiously. Namjoon feels his chest grow light and warm.

“I texted Yoongi and told him to bring Hoseok. I also bribed Jungkook with food. I should buy more meat.” Seokjin says low, mostly for himself it seems. “I’ll buy some cheaper meat and feed Jungkook noodles.” The look on Seokjin’s face as he thinks about Jungkook is as fond as it always looks.

“You’re a good Hyung.” Namjoon suddenly has an overwhelming urge to wrap his arm around Seokjin, so he does, brings an arm around Seokjin’s waist and refuses to let go.

Rain drips slowly from the sky during their walk from the grocery store to the bus stop, a bag in each hand. Namjoon looks up at the grey clouds and wonders where they came from. The weather was so nice? Namjoon manages to feel sad about the sun leaving for a second until the sky over Seoul opens a flood and the rain pours down heavily. Seokjin meets his eyes and nods his head in a wordless let’s sprint? So they do, they run as fast as they can through the heavy rain to the bus stop a hundred meters away. By the time they get under the bus stop roof, they’re both soaked from the spring rain, but they’re laughing.

Seokjin pushes some heavy wet hair out of his face and smiles widely at Namjoon “At least we decided on taking the bus home.”

Namjoon is struggling to cut an onion, he’s gotten better over the years, but he still sucks. Seokjin presses a hand against the small of Namjoon’s back, putting his other hand over Namjoon’s holding the knife.
“If you hold the knife a little looser, it helps.” Seokjin hooks his chin on Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon can’t see his face but he can hear the smile in his voice. Namjoon loosens his death grip on the knife, and it does get easier to cut.

“Thanks.” Namjoon flushes, a little embarrassed.
Seokjin pulls his hand away from Namjoon's. He stops, suddenly caressing Namjoon’s knuckle with his thumb.
“Didn’t you have a scar here?” Seokjin pulls his fingers across the skin of Namjoon’s hand, no scar insight. “Did it heal suddenly?”

Namjoon lets the knife go in favour of letting Seokjin look at his hand to inspect it. “I guess it healed.” Namjoon lies. He’s never had a scar there. Did Seokjin’s Namjoon have a scar there? How does that even work -

“Is it a new moisturizer? You shouldn’t hide miracle creams from me, your most beloved!” Seokjin says the last part in a dramatic voice, the back of his hand on his forehead.

Namjoon snickers. “Is that a meme I don’t know about or you being weird?” His Seokjin is always referencing memes Namjoon has little knowledge about and it’s as confusing as it is endearing watching Seokjin laugh trying to explain them.

“I’m not weird!” Seokjin interjects and Namjoon’s chest swells.

“Yeah, sure.” Namjoon agrees with irony lacing his voice but Seokjin has no time to fight back, as the doorbell rings.

“You keep chopping onions while I greet our guests.” Seokjin pats his butt and disappears off into the hallway.

Namjoon hears muffled voices and a moment later, Jungkook is leaning against the door frame.

“Hey Hyung!” Jungkook looks a lot like himself, his black hair long and messy, the top of it put in a bun. Namjoon eyes his hands, and it’s the only thing different. No tattoos.

“Hello, Jungkookie,” Namjoon greets him with a smile.

“The reason why I came tonight is I wanted to ask you if I could use one of your poems to make a song..” Jungkook looks nervous,

“Of Course you can. You’re my favourite singer.” Namjoon tells him earnestly. Jungkook turns beet red. Maybe Namjoon came on too strong?

“Thank you, Hyung!” Jungkook bows to him, Namjoon feels a little strange as he does.

Jungkook scrambles away as Seokjin returns to the kitchen next to him. “I think maybe Jungkook is scared of me? Or something?” Namjoon confesses quietly, furrowing his eyebrows.

Seokjin laughs quietly. “No, you know, I used to think he had a crush on you but I think he looks up to you. Like an Idol.”

Of course, Namjoon should’ve recognised it. The big-eyed Jungkook who came to the company and looked at Namjoon as if he had the answers to the universe. But Jungkook didn’t do that anymore. Sometimes Jungkook randomly confesses how much he looks up to Namjoon during interviews, but Jungkook treated Namjoon like a friend, nowadays. It feels strange to be back to the start again.

“I don’t deserve that kind of treatment,” Namjoon says voice low, letting go of the knife in his hand. Seokjin hooks his chin on Namjoon’s shoulder again, his arms wrapping around Namjoon’s middle.

“You deserve the world.”

It had been a while since the seven of them had time to gather around together to eat, different schedules and plans rarely matching up. These weren’t the same seven people of course, but Namjoon still found comfort in having at least a version of the people he associates with home around him, all at once.

Seokjin presses his body next to Namjoon’s on the couch, and Namjoon pulls an arm around his shoulders. Hip against hip, thighs pressed against each other. Seokjin and Namjoon fit perfectly together, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces. Hoseok always talks about how fate was involved in getting the seven of them together, Namjoon has never believed in a predestined future but feeling the warmth of Seokjin’s body against his own makes him question it. How has Namjoon not noticed it before? How has he not known that all of his edges were made to fit with Seokjin?

“Ah, Taehyung-ah you just need to be courageous and chase after love, like how I did with my dear Namjoon-ah.” Seokjin boosts, his hand far up on Namjoon’s thigh.

“You didn’t chase after him you pined after him for years from distance.” Taehyung deadpans, and Jimin beside him falls over in laughter. Only then does Taehyung’s face break out in a smile too, watching his best friend with a goofy smile.

The moment only lasts so long, because he’s solemn again, looking down at his fidgeting hands. “Not sure if love is going to happen to me again.” Taehyung’s lips turn downward and Namjoon doesn’t know what to say. Namjoon has feared that too, as his fleeting relationships failed again and again. He can’t say that, because he’s another Namjoon here. A less broken Namjoon.

“Breakups are the hardest the first month or two, it gets easier, Tae.” Yoongi has a hand on Taehyung's shoulder, efficiently removing the weight on Namjoon’s shoulders. “You can talk to all of us, we’ve all been through it. Except for Jin-hyung who has been in love with the same person his entire adult life.”

“Ya!” Seokjin yells, offended. “Indeed, I don’t have much break up experience except lame high school but I’m still good to talk to.” Seokjin pouts, and something in Namjoon’s chest grows tight so he brings an arm around Seokjin’s shoulder and pulls him into his chest.

“He’s good at giving advice, Yoongi-hyung.” Namjoon disagrees, pouting too.

“I have to agree with hyung, Jin-hyung you’re great at advice but you’ve been lucky enough..” Taehyung trails off. “And Namjoonie-hyung your only break up before hyung was so long ago you’re out of advice, too.” Now Namjoon turns to feel slightly offended. He’s gone through a few breakups. All amicable and no hard feelings. He’s never had the heartwrenching, who keeps the dog, kind of break up. Maybe they’re right, although misinformed. Since most of Namjoon’s love affairs have been fleeting and short-term, he has never had to end something long term, never had to endure a really painful breakup.

“Aish, we’re just jealous. Here we sit with our failed relationships and heartache but you two fell in love young and you make it last, like most of us don’t.” Hoseok tells them kindly. Yoongi beside him shrugs.

“Hey, Yoongichi, help me in the kitchen?” Seokjin’s voice has a hint of sharpness to it, no one but Namjoon seems to notice.

Yoongi and Seokjin disappear into the kitchen, and Namjoon sits by himself on the couch feeling ridiculous for missing the warmth of Seokjin next to him. If he bends his neck he can peek a little into the kitchen. Seokjin’s body language is tense, upset. Namjoon averts his eyes back to the living room.

“Hoseokie-hyung, how are things going with him,” Jimin asks, eyeing the kitchen.

Hoseok’s smiling face turns blank. “I thought things were going well, and then he pulled away. Let’s not talk about it here, please?”

Namjoon looks out at the kitchen. Yoongi and Hoseok? They’re.. together?

“My door and arms are always open,” Jimin replies in that earnest way only Jimin can muster.

There’s an apparent change in mood in Seokjin and Yoongi as they make it back to the living room. Seokjin sits down next to Namjoon again, not pressed as close anymore and his arms around himself. Yoongi, who sat as tightly next to Hoseok, sits on the other side of the room, spaced out.

It was rare to see the two eldest fight, but Namjoon knew the tell signs well because he had been the mediator.

Namjoon thinks back to his own Yoongi and Seokjin. He’s reminded of a time when the two of them used to be roommates. Yoongi and Seokjin had a brawl so big Seokjin slept in Namjoon’s room for two days. Namjoon only remembers Seokjin next to him at night, cuddling close and making Namjoon’s heart flutter. He would’ve loved having Seokjin being next to him forever. On the third day in, Namjoon and the rest of the members got tired of seeing how sad it made the two of them and Namjoon was forced to try to reconcile things between them. They never fought like that before and they never did again. Namjoon never found out what the fight was about, even when he asked months later.

The night settles, everyone leaving their dinner party with soft goodbye and promises of a next time. Namjoon watched how Seokjin awkwardly patted Yoongi’s arm as he left, he got no response back from him. Namjoon has settled in bed since then, he’s playing a game on his phone and tries not to think about what’s in his photo album. Seokjin crawls under the covers of the bed and brings them up to his neck. The frown is deep on his face, Namjoon has seen the furrow between Seokjin’s eyebrows ever since Yoongi and Seokjin emerged from the kitchen.
“What happened with you and Yoongi-hyung?”

Seokjin grimaces. “I think I was too mean to him. He got really upset.”

Namjoon’s attention perks at the upset tone in his hyung’s, no, his husband’s voice. “What happened?”

“Yoongi was a bigger asshole first. But I know he isn’t in a good place so I should have just let him be, you know?” Seokjin sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes harshly.

“And the fight went overboard?”
“Come here.” Namjoon opens his arms for a hug.
Instantly, Seokjin is pressed against him and his face hidden in Namjoon’s neck, breathing him in.

“My big teddy bear.” Seokjin sighs again, but this time in content “You always make everything better.”

“You should apologise. Whatever Yoongi said or did, I know you hate fighting with him.” Namjoon finds himself stroking Seokjin’s back softly, getting himself wrapped up in a life that isn't his own.

“Ugh. He’s so stubborn that he's harming himself, you know?” Seokjin groans, the sound of it muffled against Namjoon’s chest. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but Yoongi is ruining things. Badly. That’s vague enough right?” Seokjin groans again and pulls his arms tighter around Namjoon’s torso. Thinking back to the questions asked to Hoseok during dinner, Namjoon thinks he understands the reason for the fight.

“He doesn’t want me to know?” Namjoon asks anyway, feeling a little hurt. Yoongi used to tell Namjoon things, but maybe not in this universe.

“He won’t even listen to me and he knows you will be on my side,” Seokjin explains, then leaves feather-light kisses on Namjoon’s check.

“We will have to let him figure it out on his own,” Namjoon concludes. Yoongi and Seokjin are similar that way, they always figure things out, even if it takes them a while.

“Hmm, that sounds a lot like taking Yoongi’s side.”

“I’m always by your side, babe.” Namjoon hears himself say the last endearment, and he decides to press a kiss to Seokjin’s forehead for good measure.

No sleep comes to Namjoon, even with the warmth of Seokjin’s body next to him. A greed bubbles in Namjoon, to have something he’s not allowed. Namjoon rolls closer to Seokjin in their bed, to check if he’s awake. His eyes are closed, but he reaches out immediately to put his arm around Namjoon again.
”Seokjin-ah, Why do you love me?” Namjoon asks. He needs to know, grab at whatever affection he can to sustain himself on that later.

Seokjin opens his eyes and looks back and Namjoon, his lips upturned in amusement.
“Why now? But sure, the little or the big things?”

“The little things, please.”

“When I hear a good joke or think of one, you’re always the first person I wanna tell it to. Same with good news, bad news. I always want to talk to you.” Seokjin smiles, a warm fond look in his eyes.

“You’re that person for me too,” Namjoon admits, chest heavy with how true those words rang. Of course, Namjoon is that person for Seokjin here. They’re married. What about Namjoon though, Seokjin is his person in the other universes too. What about Namjoon? “What about the big things?” Namjoon asks instead.

“The big things?” Seokjin thinks quietly for a second and then he’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and Namjoon can’t help but snort out a particular ugly sounding laughter.

“Your laugh, love that. All the big things are the way you see the world. Your love for the world, like all humans and even crabs. Your sexy brain” Seokjin presses his hands against Namjoon’s cheeks. “Can I stop being mushy now?” Seokjin whines but smiles again. “I love you, don’t doubt it, okay?”

Namjoon never used to doubt Seokjin’s love for him. Among the years the love between all of them was as certain as breathing. Namjoon isn’t so certain anymore.

Early the next morning a woman with a baby carriage comes into the bookstore. She looks around for a while before she asks for a book for herself and one for her daughter.

Namjoon helps the woman to find a book, surprising himself he managed to locate things in the store in just a day. As they got to the cash register, Namjoon couldn’t help occasionally look at the toddler and how she is intensely staring at Seokjin. Her big eyes are wide in wonder. Namjoon’s chest feels funny. Admittingly, Namjoon’s baby fever has gotten bad the past three-ish years or so. He even bought a pair of baby shoes because they were tiny and cute. Yoongi teased him to no end. Namjoon looks at the big eyes of the baby watching Seokjin’s every move. Was it true babies liked looking at beautiful people? This baby had truly found someone worth looking at forever. Namjoon would look at him forever too if he could.

“How old is she?” Namjoon asks, tearing his eyes away from Seokjin for a moment.

”11 months.” The woman smiles, gently stroking the little girl’s hair. Namjoon’s heart swells, that longing building itself up again. The woman leaves and Seokjin turns to look at him with a soft look on his face.

“You’ll be the best dad.” Seokjin’s voice is so earnest and soft that Namjoon feels himself tearing up and fuck. He’s heard Seokjin say something similar after an interview where Namjoon had said I want to be a dad. Yoongi had quietly replied, in English too, you can. It wasn’t until after the interview and cameras were off they all discussed future babies. Seokjin had looked at him with an equal earnest look like now on his face but Namjoon hadn’t almost cried then. Here, in the context, Seokjin would be involved. The two of them, together with future babies. Namjoon will never have that.

Seokjin notices Namjoon’s bubbling emotions, and obviously, he doesn’t understand the real reasons behind Namjoon’s turmoil but he pulls Namjoon in by the arm and kisses his cheek anyway.
“Soon, yeah?” Seokjin whispers to him. Another Namjoon will have that happiness soon. Maybe that’s joy enough. Namjoon presses his cheek against Seokjin’s and forces his sadness away.

After lunch, Yoongi steps into the bookstore, with a jar in his hand.
“Hey, hyung. I’m sorry for being a jerk.” Yoongi's eyes don't leave the floor as he speaks, lips downturned. He looks as dishevelled as Seokjin did this morning. Seokjin pretended he wasn’t upset still, but Namjoon knew better.

“You were a jerk. But so was I, I’m sorry.” Seokjin says, nodding. Something lifts from Yoongi’s shoulders and he looks up at the both of them. Namjoon smiles as he recalls all the times he’s fought with Yoongi, how each time Yoongi had been the bigger person and gone and apologised.
“I thought I would give you my sourdough bread starter, as an apology. Uh. That sounds lame now that I say it out loud but-“ Yoongi laughs nervously looking up at Namjoon and Seokjin. Should Namjoon move away? Neither of his hyungs seems to mind that he stands there, pretending to attend to the cash register. He doesn’t even know how to work the thing.

“No, Thank you, Yoongi, and I’m sorry again for being mean.” Seokjin answers and Yoongi hands Seokjin the jar with the sourdough in it. “Come by later and we can talk things out, yeah?” Seokjin adds, smiling.

“Remember to feed it with water and flour, around once a week.” Yoongi reminds them as he holds the door on the way out.

“Woah, Joonie, it’s like having a child. A bread child. We will nurture it. Sing it goodnight stories.” Seokjin tells him with a sparkle in his eyes. Until they have a real one, omitted.

Namjoon was exiled, out of his own kitchen. The real adults needed to talk. So the husband was exiled. Namjoon sighs. At least the bed is comfortable. The bedroom door stands ajar and Namjoon can hear their soft mumbled conversation. He shouldn’t eavesdrop, he should close the door. Yep.

“Yoongi-ya, I got angry because you helped me be brave and build up enough courage and finally ask Namjoon-ah out.” Seokjin’s voice wavers with emotion. Namjoon can’t possibly close the door now!

“He asked you out first though.” Yoongi deadpans. Namjoon stifles a laugh.

“Well, I built up the courage at least! You should too. You deserve happiness. Hoseok deserves happiness.”

There’s a moment of silence, then the scraping sound of chairs moving on the wooden floor.

“You’re right. Hoseok deserves happiness. I’ve been taking that away from him.” Yoongi’s voice is low and upset. “I should get going, it’s late.” He adds.

Namjoon stops hearing distinguished words of their conversation as they presumably move towards the entry door. The sound of the door closing rings through the apartment and then it’s almost eerily quiet again until Namjoon hears the familiar sound of Seokjin’s footsteps. Quickly, Namjoon picks up his phone on the bed and pretends he wasn’t eavesdropping.

“If you wanted to eavesdrop you should’ve at least pretended to be asleep.” Seokjin looks at him with raised eyebrows, unimpressed.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Are you angry? I’m sorry.” Namjoon pouts, feeling more guilty than he thought he would. He pouts more and hopes Seokjin won’t be upset. It’s worked before. Maybe pop a dimple?

“Not really. If we wanted a private conversation we would’ve gone somewhere else.” Seokjin assures, sitting down on the bed and leaning against Namjoon’s torso.

“Why was I exiled, then? I could’ve given some good advice!”

“You value everyone’s feelings more than anything. We needed to talk about it as objectively as possible.” Seokjin reaches out and brushes some hair on the side of Namjoon’s head.

Namjoon does not feel offended. Feelings are neat! That’s how he navigates his life, with his heart. He’s good at being logical too. His heart is just louder. “I can be objective.” Namjoon answers and Seokjin only hums back, still stroking Namjoon’s head.

“I can’t believe Yoongi-hyung gave you a sourdough starter as a gift.” Namjoon laughs, Seokjin turns to look at him with a serious look in his eyes.

“It’s a really good gift. Yoongi has been keeping this thing alive for a year now. It’s his baby and he gave most of it to me? He likes me, after all.”

“It’s your baby now,” Namjoon says solemnly before scooting off the bed. “I’m hungry, let’s eat something.”

“No, you are my baby.”

Namjoon turns to look at the time and realises that it’s enough tv and more time for sleeping. He’s been restless, stressed over deadlines he has no access to in this reality. Seokjin went to bed not too long ago. Namjoon should join him. Namjoon pads across the wooden floors and suddenly he misses his apartment with the luxury of heated flooring. Namjoon loves his apartment, he spent months picking out his favourite furniture, like his rosewood kitchen table and the bonsai trees scattered around his apartment. He made it as homely as he possibly could. However hard he tried, his apartment doesn’t have a Seokjin in his bed who can keep him warm and happy.

Namjoon lifts the covers and crawls into the space next to Seokjin, who yelps.
“Ah! ah, Cold- Ah! Cold feet, stop.”

Namjoon ignores him and only snickers as he brings an arm around Seokjin’s torso. Namjoon rests his cheek against Seokjin’s shoulder and concludes that, yes, this beats having a luxurious apartment with heated floors and fancy kitchen tables.

“Although your feet are disgustingly cold, You’re very hot,” Seokjin tells him, out of nowhere and watching him with glittering eyes. Namjoon giggles, flustered.

“Hot?” He squeaks. Hot? Namjoon rarely considered himself hot. Handsome on a good day, maybe. Pretty? Sometimes. Hot? Never.

Seokjin places his hand on Namjoon’s arm and squeezes a little. “My hot bulky handsome husband.” He sings, a goofy smile on his face. “Some teenage girls were ogling you from head to toe today and I wanted to chase them away, but I am disciplined, so I didn’t. Thought I’d remind you you’re hot.”

“Thank you?” Namjoon squeaks again and Seokjin giggles and cuddles a little closer.

“I scheduled doing the big monthly super-duper-trouper cleaning of the store tomorrow. It’s going to suuuuck.” Seokjin whines after a moment of silence. “Jungkook is helping me but you know he’s going to spend more time choosing which song to blast and not scrub the floors.”

“I’m helping you though, aren’t I?” Namjoon lifts his head off Seokjin’s shoulder and looks back at him. Confused about the life he’s been flown into.

“Did you forget your meeting with the publicist next week? You’re editing the crap out of your novel tomorrow.” Seokjin raises his eyebrows in question.

“I didn’t forget, I just hoped it was further away in time,” Namjoon lies, but it’s not a hard graspable lie. He’s chosen to forget deadlines of songs in favour of living in oblivious procrastination bliss.

“Here I thought I married you for your brains and personality, turns out I just married you for your hotness.” Seokjin teases with a wink. Namjoon’s cheeks burn.
“Joon-ah, do you want to boink. Bow chicka wow wow. Hanky panky,” Seokjin says to him suddenly with a completely straight face. Instead of intense butterflies or maybe even panic at the suggestion, Namjoon can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of his chest.

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon wheezes, throwing his head back into the pillow.

“You knew that and still married me. So who’s the real weirdo?” Seokjin wiggles his eyebrows, proving he’s still the weirdo. “Anyway, I’m too exhausted to boink, plus you killed the mood.”

“ I killed the mood?” Namjoon cackles loudly again.

“Yeah. No boink.” Seokjin mumbles finally succumbed to his exhaustion. “Goodnight.”

Namjoon laughs to himself, delighted by Seokjin’s antics, but he also feels relieved he didn’t have to deal with the moral issue of, in Seokjin’s words, boinking. Is it cheating if Namjoon is not married to Seokjin, only an identical version of Seokjin’s husband? Namjoon doesn’t want to find out. He drifts off into sleep, thoughts settle down with Seokjin spooning him. It’s a nice life to have.

Namjoon has always been a good writer. He finds the images in his mind easy to describe, metaphors and words flowing. He finds editing a lot harder, it takes a lot more discipline, a lot more critical thinking and concentration.

Namjoon’s eyes glaze over and he looks up from the laptop and the document with the ten thousands of words and out on the small balcony. A brown sparrow lands on the railing, it looks back at him curious as to what kind of big bird he is.
Namjoon suddenly notices how much his body aches from sitting hunched over the laptop. His shoulder aches as he tries to roll his neck. Namjoon should take a break, stop editing for and instead leave notes for future Namjoon? Alternative universe Namjoon? Not- him-Namjoon? How does it even work?
He thinks of Seokjin who is slaving away in the bookstore while he’s here under a warm blanket looking at birds. The guilt builds so strongly inside his body he has to stand up from the desk and take a break.

He walks out into the living room, looks closer at the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. Damaged book spines - reread thoroughly, deeply loved. Namjoon didn’t recognise any of the titles. He stopped at a book that was labelled “Photobook” with a sharpie. He picks it out and places himself on the couch with the photobook in his lap.

It’s technically not a photobook that belongs to him. Is it prying? As it often did, Namjoon’s curiosity won and he opened up the book to the first page. From Taehyung to Namjoonie-hyung and Seokjinnie-hyung, your love inspires me to find love just as pure. Happy anniversary. Was written in neat letters across a blank page. Namjoon’s chest grows warm and he smiles.

The first photo he’s met with is of a beach, the sun glistening in sunset. He sees the silhouette of two people walking and holding hands. The next picture is of Seokjin smiling widely, dressed in thick winter clothes and a snowboard in his arm, a selfie of him and Seokjin of them sitting on a ski lift, red cheeks and bright eyes. The moments Namjoon sees are vacations, small moments like a date at a bowling alley and a barbeque night. In the photos, Namjoon looks genuinely happy, Seokjin too, like there was nowhere and nothing else they’d rather have in the world than each other. Namjoon flips the page to a picture of him and Seokjin standing outside the bookstore, a key in hand. Namjoon’s dream come true. The scribbled title underneath said. Namjoon’s dream. His dream. They started this bookstore because of something Namjoon wanted, and now Seokjin is working hard downstairs to maintain it while Namjoon works on another dream, writing a book. Namjoon’s stomach sinks suddenly and he pushes the photobook away from him.

There are two reasons for the oncoming wave of emotions spilling out of Namjoon’s chest.

A shadow of loneliness so deep and dark settles on him as he watches glimpses of a life that does not belong to him but is everything he longs for.
An overwhelming conviction in that, in this life he is overshadowing and hurting the person he loves the most.

Namjoon takes a deep breath to stop another wave of sob as he hears the jingling of keys opening the door and then Seokjin’s soft voice.
“Namjoon-ah? I’m home.”

Namjoon can’t force his voice out to answer, another wave of crying taken over him. Seokjin calls for him again as he walks into the living room. His face turns ghostly white and he rushes forward to where Namjoon is sitting.

“What’s wrong, Joon-ah?” Seokjin grabs his arm with a rather hard grip, panic lacing his voice.

“Ah, nothing - is wrong. No one has died, or anything. I just-.” Namjoon wipes his eyes with his sleeve. He takes a deep shaky breath and tries to piece himself back together. He doesn’t know why he had this strong reaction. Why it feels like his heart is breaking.

Seokjin sinks to his knees in front of Namjoon on the couch. He’s still wearing his coat and he dropped the shopping bag in the entryway to the living room.
“Namjoon-ah. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
There’s still panic lingering left in Seokjin’s eyes and in his voice, a tension in his shoulders like he’s ready to receive some really bad news.

“Did I push away your dream to achieve mine?” Seokjin slumps together, the tension in his body broken from being taken aback. He wasn’t prepared to hear that. “I mean, with the bookstore you work so hard, you let me skip out on workdays to try to achieve this dream of mine to become an author. But what about your dreams? Is it my fault?” Namjoon continues and he takes a big breath.

“Why- I’ve never pushed any dream aside. My dreams have never been as passionate as yours. Namjoon-ah you thread through life with such love and passion I just had to jump on your train? Does that make sense?” Seokjin reaches out and wipes tears from Namjoon’s face.

“Is this enough? Am I enough? What if you wake up one day and realise I am the reason you’re unhappy and-“

“Of course you are enough. It’s not like I am putting your happiness or worth in front of my own. I am my own person and I chose to help you do what you love.” Seokjin’s lips thin and he looks around, eyes fleeting in that way he does when he’s trying to think.
“My dream for the past few years has been like, maybe get a bigger place, maybe buy a car that won’t die on me so we can stop waiting for the bus.” Seokjin continues with a smile, and even though Namjoon has no power over what this universe holds for them, he desperately wants to give Seokjin all of those things. “My big dream is just growing old with you. I don’t need my name up in lights or whatever it was that I wanted when I was 20.” Seokjin smiles softly and leans forward to kiss Namjoon’s cheek.

“You’re my dream, too,” Namjoon replies truthfully, tears still in his eyes and in his throat.

Seokjin glances at Namjoon, worried eyes as Namjoon bounces to the music. Namjoon wipes down the last plate and puts it back into the cupboard.
“I’m sorry for that emotional outburst earlier,” Namjoon says. Suddenly Namjoon’s bouncy happy music doesn’t match the mood anymore. He turns the volume down as Seokjin looks back at him, eyes still emotional.

“I’m just glad it wasn’t anything serious. When I walked in on you sobbing all my worst fears played in my head. Like someone had died or robbed us blind. Or like, that you were leaving me.” The last part comes out a little quieter in Seokjin’s voice and he looks up from the pot he’s stirring to look at Namjoon with eyes glittering from unshed tears.

Something in Namjoon’s stomach lurches so he moves forward and presses his chest again’s Seokjin’s back, his arms around Seokjin’s stomach and Namjoon’s chin resting on his shoulder. “I love you so much,” Namjoon tells him voice resonates against the kitchen walls. He surprises himself how much he means it. He’s said the words to Seokjin before but hadn’t quite realised the depth of his emotions before. But Namjoon knows that his heart has always been beating for Seokjin, he has always had a particular attachment to his hyung. Namjoon thought those feelings would pass eventually, his life wasn’t normal so his emotions weren’t either. Bangtan was everything to Namjoon. Seokjin was bangtan. But it was more than that wasn’t it? The feeling in Namjoon’s chest wasn’t a strong emotional attachment to a friend or even a crush. No, the emotion Namjoon is feeling is a big kind of love, the love you build the foundation of your life upon.

“I love you too.” Seokjin answers, continuing to stir the pot of soup as Namjoon holds onto him, breathing against Seokjin’s shirt, wondering how to get his heart to calm down.

“Hey, Hyu- Babe, Seokjinnie,” Namjoon whispers looking over at Seokjin in the dark. The streetlight is casting light through the blinds, lying softly across Seokjin’s frame.

“Mm?”

“Do you believe alternative universes exist? Do you think there is a universe where you and l live different lives but we’re the same people?” Namjoon can’t help but ask him, trying to tame the thoughts inside his head.

“Maybe. Yeah. So you mean you and I are pilots in one universe. In another one, we are movie stars?” Seokjin wonders, eyes now awake and looking back at him, curious.

“Something like that.” Namjoon agrees softly, words of artists and a band of seven on the tip of his tongue. “Do you think we’re in love in other universes than this one?” Namjoon dares to ask, maybe searching for a glimmer of hope. Does he love me back?

“If we’ve had the pleasure of meeting I don’t think there’s a chance I’m not head over heels in love with you.”

Seokjin’s words ricochet inside his ribcage as he closes his eyes and tries to go to sleep. Could it be true? Would any version of Seokjin fall hopelessly in love with Namjoon?

Outside the bedroom window, a storm starts up, tree branches and rain knocking on the glass. Namjoon’s body tingles as he falls asleep, a familiar pressure on his skull recurring.

Namjoon wakes up with a headache, his muscles aching. His neck is stiff, he must’ve lost his pillow somewhere. The soft mattress doesn’t feel particularly soft, anymore. The shoulder he is lying on stings painfully. Refusing to open his eyes, Namjoon searches instinctively around for the body next to him. Instead of pulling a warm body into his own, he is embracing air and the hard edge of a couch. Namjoon opens his eyes and with a sharp breath, he realises he’s back in his studio.

Fuck. Was it all a dream? Namjoon feels hollow like he’s missing something. He massages his sore neck, looking at his studio. He had forgotten to save the file of the song he was working on yesterday. Namjoon forces himself out of the couch, walking over to his computer. The screen turns black and Namjoon stares back at a reflection of himself. He looks tired. Sad. He turns his eyes down to the picture he has sitting next to his computer, his family picture, his boys sitting closely together. His gaze focuses on Seokjin, with a soft sweet smile on his face. Namjoon thinks of a different set of photos hanging on the wall in the hallway, of him and Seokjin. How happy they looked together. Namjoon tears his eyes away and gathers his stuff to leave the company building.

Namjoon takes the bus back to his apartment, almost forgetting his face mask and cap, he had somehow in a few days gotten used to not worrying about being recognised. He puts his favourite album on in his AirPods as he walks towards the bus stop, watching a familiar city but strangers pass him by. Rain starts pouring heavily over Seoul as the bus drives down city streets and he thinks about Seokjin smiling at him with wet hair dripping onto his face. Was it just a dream? Why was his heart shattering?

As Namjoon got back to his apartment, he fell onto his couch and checked his phone for their schedule. He was supposed to finish writing songs today. A meeting tomorrow at 10. Then bts run filming. There are so many things to do but Namjoon can’t find it in himself to care about. How could waking up from what seems like a dream now, make everything feel so wrong? Why did his own apartment no longer make him feel at home?

Namjoon’s stomach growls so he walks into his kitchen trying to find a snack, suddenly missing the cramped small kitchen, a pink coffee machine and Seokjin singing under his breath stirring in a pot. Namjoon could call him. If he was in his apartment, he would be a minute away. What would he say? Hey, I know I screwed things up between us but I had a dream we were married and now I miss you. Come over? His thumb hovers over the call button on the ‘Seokjin-hyung’ contact. Namjoon shuts off the screen and throws his phone down on the counter. It wouldn’t be the same, because his Seokjin pulls away when Namjoon touches him.

Namjoon almost calls again, four times actually, as the afternoon turns into evening and the evening turns into night. Namjoon misses green bedroom walls as he stares at his white ones, he misses the warm hugs as he goes to bed alone.

Looking out at a grey Seoul through the car door window, Namjoon feels bone tired. He got no sleep, he kept waking up while he searched for a body next to him, Every time his hand hit the cold sheets instead of Seokjin, he rushed to consciousness with his heart in his throat. They have a full day of schedules, Namjoon isn’t sure he will be able to keep his eyes open. Seokjin looks just as exhausted, leaning against the car seat with his eyes closed. They’re travelling to a location to film another run episode. Usually, bts run was a fun part of their job, but for a variety show to be fun to watch, the partakers had to be happy on screen. Today, Namjoon didn’t find himself in a, particularly good mood.

He misses Seokjin, sitting across from him in the car that is taking them away from their apartment complex. Namjoon misses Seokjin so much. They haven’t gone this long without talking since they first met. Ten years, down the drain. Namjoon sighs, considering sending another text to Jimin to tell him to hurry up, just to be annoying. Then Seokjin fills the silence with a sharp tone in his voice.

“You’ve been weird to me the past few days. The past few weeks, I guess.” Seokjin tells him and he’s not even looking at Namjoon, but out the window. He’s good at that, cutting Namjoon open to the bone without even sparing him a second glance. “Are you angry with me? Because If you are, you need to tell me so we can be able to have a functional working relationship.” He continues, just as sharp, only just now turning his eyes on Namjoon.

Huh. A working relationship? Is that all they are now? Other-world Seokjin’s words play in his mind. If we’ve had the pleasure of meeting I don’t think there’s a chance I’m not head over heels in love with you. Well. Not in this universe. Seokjin thinks of him as nothing more than a friend. Maybe not even that. As Namjoon stares back he realises how cold the world seems, how cold Seokjin seems. He thinks back to the other version of Seokjin and how open he was with Namjoon. How all the colours were saturated with bright yellows and orange and red. Here he is shut off, the colours tinted blue.

“Are we not friends anymore?” Namjoon questions, the hurt bleeding into his voice.

“Namjoon-ah, of course, we are - what are you- ?” Seokjin’s voice breaks, his ache breaking the stillness on his face and seeping onto his icy facade like warm weather. Maybe Seokjin is hurt too, Namjoon realises. He’s been a coward, unknowingly cruel by not wanting to face his reality. Tears bubble inside Namjoon’s chest, seeking their way out.

“I’m not angry, I just don’t know how to act with you now. With the thing-” Namjoon tells him, trying to keep a straight face. Be as flawlessly icy as Seokjin. Namjoon rarely succeeds in hiding his emotions.

It was after a concert, alone in a hotel room with a strong buzz from that evening that suddenly dipped to a dangerous low. Namjoon watched the Tokyo lights from the hotel room when Seokjin invited Namjoon over to his room. He knew just as well that the four walls of a hotel room are horrible after a whole night spent with thousands. Spending your night with someone else than yourself made the weird loneliness faze out, a little. Namjoon agreed to hang out, Seokjin was a good person to spend time with on a bad night, any night. Seokjin never asked for explanations or attempted a distraction. He let Namjoon exist.

They sat together on Seokjin’s hotel bed, pillows bundled up against the headboard. The tv was on in the background, everything in Japanese. Namjoon tried to pay attention first, if he concentrated hard enough he could at least understand the context. Namjoon isn’t as good at Japanese as Seokjin, but even he seemed to struggle. Giving up at trying to understand, they started talking about nothing at all, inside jokes and meaningless conversations until it delved deeper. I’m so scared of failing and when I succeed I’m sure I don’t deserve it Seokjin had admitted quietly. Somedays, I still feel like that insecure nineteen-year-old who wore glasses so people wouldn’t call me ugly. The way Seokjin’s eyes shone with a deep sadness made Namjoon realise Seokjin hadn’t known that. How much self-hatred Namjoon carried for himself at some points. Seokjin's voice wavered as he told Namjoon you’ve always been beautiful.

The room’s atmosphere got to that dangerous low again after that. Seokjin immediately took to making a stupid comment about the show on tv. He laughed and put his palm on Namjoon’s chest, right over his heart. Ever since the day they met, there has been this magnetic pulling between them. Namjoon could feel that chemistry in the air, electric and tearing him apart. A blood rush came to his head, a soaring sound echoing in his ears. He looked down at Seokjin’s lips and maybe it was the you’ve always been beautiful that made Namjoon leap. He leaned forward and kissed Seokjin.

At first, it was a hesitant press of lips, Seokjin first shocked but he responded after a beat, kissing back. Namjoon remembers feeling his body heat up intensely. He had been cold for so long until Seokjin touched him. Just like the last stages of hypothermia, Namjoon was burning up. Seokjin’s hand was still on his chest. Could he feel Namjoon’s heartbeat in his palm?

When Namjoon wrote, he often fell into internet rabbit holes as he researched for his songs. One time he came across an article about hypothermia, disturbed he continued reading. An interesting but weird fact about hypothermia: As your body goes into the last stage of freezing to death, you feel as if you’re burning up. This leads to humans removing all their clothing, rendering them even more vulnerable to the cold. He hadn’t thought much of it then, moved on to read other things but the image of it pops up inside his head.
Namjoon was burning up. Seokjin’s hands found their way up Namjoon’s shirt, and he felt surprised they weren’t cold in comparison to Namjoon’s flaming skin. No, Seokjin was as equally hot to the touch, the two of them burning up together. What a lovely way to go.

Pieces of clothing fell to the floor beside the hotel bed as they were burning, until they were left with nothing but skin to skin. Lips against lips, bites and kisses to collarbones. They grabbed onto each other so desperately like they were the last real thing to each other. Maybe they were. Maybe they were just writhing to get off, to burn each other up, no care for the ashy consequences.

They rolled away from each other, sweaty and covered in come, they were still burning. The fire was going to consume them and it was okay, Namjoon felt it in his gut, saw it on Seokjin’s face as he put his hand over Namjoon’s heart again. He leaned over to kiss again and-

A knock on the door and the warm hand on Namjoon’s chest fell off and Seokjin pulled away, Seokjin’s carefully blank expression told Namjoon everything he needed to know. It was a mistake.
“Ah, Namjoon-ah, we shouldn’t have done this, we should-“

Namjoon was no longer burning, no, now he was consumed by the icy cold all throughout his body. He had reached the last stage. If only he hadn’t wanted so much, wanted Seokjin so much. Namjoon had taken more than he was allowed, he knew that. He took advantage of a lonely situation and he-

“I should go, I know it was a mistake, I’m so sorry,” Namjoon felt nauseous but interrupted Seokjin from continuing speaking. He didn’t need to hear how he wasn’t wanted and he’d taken too much again. He hurried to find his clothing items on the floor. Namjoon shivered when he noticed Seokjin doing the same.

As he was met with Yoongi on the other side of the door, he was almost surprised. For a moment, He had forgotten there was a world outside him and Seokjin.

“Did I interrupt something?” Yoongi questioned cautiously. All those years together meant Yoongi could with a glance read any distress on Namjoon’s face.

“You didn’t interrupt anything. I was leaving anyway.” Namjoon replied, shivering more and more as he pushed past Yoongi out into the hotel hallway.

The day after whatever had happened between Namjoon and Seokjin, bts had a fan meeting. As they all sat down waiting for fans to come flooding in through the doors, Namjoon looked across the oblong table over to where Seokjin was sitting. 5 members between them, the absolute farthest seat away from Namjoon as possible. God, did Namjoon disgust Seokjin that much? What was it that they had done? Was pressing your bodies together until you got off, sex? Did it ruin everything? Namjoon supposed so.

Stumbling with the words in Korean a fan told Namjoon she had gotten engaged and told Namjoon that he deserves to feel happiness and love. Namjoon smiled and thanked her, feeling gut-punched. He looked across the table again at Seokjin who smiled sweetly at a fan. Did he deserve happiness? The person he wanted, did not want him back.

On the flight back to Korea, Namjoon asked Yoongi to switch seats with him, claiming he needed to talk to Hoseok. Maybe it was a lie that Yoongi understood, but he didn’t say anything as he moved to sit next to Namjoon’s alphabetically fated seatmate. Namjoon accidentally met Seokjin’s gaze as they gathered their bags, it was there for a second before Seokjin turned on a blank face again. He was hurt.

Like any major issue in Namjoon’s life, he took it on by walking. Walking helped him process the thoughts in his head, detangle his issues and find ideas when he had writer's block. He walked along Ttukseom, looking at the N Seoul tower and he thought about how majorly he had fucked up. This feeling, this crush he had been harbouring, he thought he could keep it at bay? Now they had gotten off together, dirty and weird and hot. It was a mistake. Namjoon pushed his feelings onto Seokjin and now they both were hurt struggling to grasp onto a crumbling friendship. Seokjin didn’t want him, Why would he? Namjoon knew he wasn’t Seokjin’s type. Why would he be? He was convenient. A warm body to fill the loneliness. Some twelve thousand steps later - according to his phone health app, Namjoon had resolved nothing. His insides were still eating away at him, the only thing different was how much Namjoon’s feet were aching.

The days following that night, Seokjin kept an equally as guarded face around him as right after they did well. That. He shied away from casual touches, wouldn’t even look at Namjoon in the face. Namjoon felt sick to his stomach.

Namjoon then made things worse by refusing to talk to Seokjin the times he tried to reach out. But Namjoon was hurt. He needed time to pick up the bruised pieces and the little self-esteem he had. Seokjin walked away peacefully when Namjoon told him he didn’t want to talk. Maybe, he was relieved. No awkward rejection was needed on Seokjin’s part, Namjoon understood it perfectly fine. Seokjin doesn’t like him that way. Seokjin didn’t owe him returned feelings or an explanation.

“I tried to reach out to you, Joon-ah. You blew me off every time.” Seokjin tells him, eyes piercing through Namjoon. Could Jimin fucking hurry up? Namjoon couldn’t do this. Not today.

“I was hurt,” Is all he can answer, gaze shying away from Seokjin.

“I was hurt too, You could’ve told me what you were thinking instead of avoiding me.”

Seokjin must know, right? Namjoon has never been good at hiding his feelings. His heart on his sleeve and with his guard down, completely readable like a book. Seokjin must know that Namjoon is in love with him. That’s why he shied away from any touch and probably thought Namjoon was gross for having feelings. He was letting Namjoon down gently. Seokjin from the alternative world was wrong. There is a universe in which Seokjin doesn’t love him back.

“But why can’t you back off? I need time, you rejected me I need a little time to get over it.” Namjoon cuts in, anger stirring in his guts.

“I rejected you? You need time?” Seokjin looks a little confused. Namjoon grows a little angrier.

“I have to get over my feelings for you. Then I’ll be fine.” Namjoon blurts out, irate and Seokjin only stares back at him with wide eyes and face pale in shock. Oh. So he didn’t know about Namjoon’s feelings. Seokjin opens his mouth to answer and then the car door flies open and Jimin steps in.

“Namjoon-hyung, stop texting me memes when I’m trying to get ready,” Jimin whines and sits down next to Seokjin. Namjoon shrugs in reply and finally tears his eyes away from Seokjin’s -again- unreadable icy face.

During lunch-break, Namjoon looked up from his phone and the hundreds of emails he had to answer, he watched his boys eating in silence. They were all too tired to joke around like they used to.
Jungkook sat next to Yoongi, both of them looking like they’re both about to fall asleep. Taehyung and Jimin were in their usual bubble, speaking quietly to each other, giggling at something on their phones. Hoseok on the other side next to Yoongi, also looking tired but humming nonetheless.

Namjoon thinks back to the other versions of Yoongi and Hoseok with the love problems. Would that happen here? Would they fall in love? Namjoon has never noticed anything between them, but he’s not known for being the most observant guy in the world. Still, wouldn’t he know if his best friends were in love? Wouldn’t he have some idea of what the people he’s spent over a decade with were feeling? At last, Namjoon’s eyes land on Seokjin. His eyes always want to go to him. Lately, he hasn’t allowed himself that. He’s on his phone, distracted from knowing Namjoon is watching. His eyes look blank and his lips downturned. His expression is unguarded, doesn’t know anyone is watching him who can be able to catch his sadness. Namjoon’s stomach knots in anxiety. It’s his fault.

“Are you okay? You seem very off” A while later, Taehyung sits down next to him in the breakroom. “Well. Everything feels off. You and Seokjin are fighting. Seokjin and Yoongi are fighting.” Taehyung adds.

“They’re fighting too?” Namjoon wonders, suddenly worried. Namjoon and Seokjin’s issues did enough damage to throw off the bands dynamic. If Seokjin and Yoongi had gotten into a fight, well, everything is going to shit.

“They haven’t said anything. I’ve just noticed how Seokjin is sitting alone. Usually, he circles three people. You, Yoongi and Jungkook. Jungkook is with Hoseok, so Seokjin is alone. They fought.” Taehyung is a lot more intelligent than people ever give him credit for, because of his strange and bubbly personality people never look at him hard enough to see how brilliant he is. Namjoon squeezes his knee.

“You’re very observant, Tae.”

“I’ve been bored today.” Taehyung answers dismissively but with a glint in his eyes.
“You know, we work as a group because all of our circles integrate into each other. If you’re fighting for this long, it’s not good. You need to make up. Okay?” Taehyung puts his head on Namjoon’s shoulder and his hand over Namjoon’s.

Namjoon isn't one for physical affection, but he has never denied Taehyung anything. “Okay.” Namjoon answers then look up from his lap and notice Seokjin staring at him from the corner of the room. He turns his eyes away as their gazes meet.

Namjoon arrives back at his apartment late, he grabs leftovers from the fridge and sits down on his couch, staring at the black screen of the tv. Taehyung told him to patch things up with Seokjin. Seokjin who used to go in the same car with him home to their apartment complex. Seokjin who is never physically far away but feels like he is aeons away. Seokjin who only stared back in shock when Namjoon told him he has feelings for him. Namjoon sighs. Tae is right, he needs to patch things up because it’s affecting all of them. He still doesn’t know what to say that could mend things.

Namjoon is midchew when the doorbell rings, who would be here at this hour? Their manager? Through the peephole, Namjoon sees Seokjin standing there. His breath hitches as his hand goes to the door handle. Should he open? Pretend he’s sleeping? Taehyung’s voice rings a reminder inside his head and Namjoon pushes down on the door handle and lets a smile grow on his face.

Seokjin has Namjoon’s favourite brand of chips and a bag of beers in his hands - a peace offering if Namjoon has ever seen anything.
“Can I come in?”

Namjoon pours the snacks in a bowl and gets two glasses to share the beers.
He sits down next to Seokjin on his couch, biting his lip. What should he say first? I’m sorry for everything, let’s try to be friends again. I can’t lose you. Namjoon doesn’t feel ready yet for that conversation, so he starts with something a little easier. Maybe it’s not an easier subject at all, but it’s far away from their moment right now.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about success, and how it’s the end-all goal for the human species as a whole. But what do we do when we’ve reached success far beyond our imagination? Where’s the end? Does it mean happiness?”

“You read too many philosophy books, Joon-ah,” Seokjin tells him, smiling with warm eyes. “And you’ve realised success isn’t the meaning of your life anymore?” With anyone else, Namjoon would be a little taken back by the accuracy. But it’s Seokjin, he knows Namjoon too well. Inside and out.

“Yeah. I used to think I’d continue trying to achieve and succeed more, even after Bangtan. Now I’m not so sure..”

“You don’t have to achieve anything, but you’ll do amazing in anything you put your mind to. Doesn’t have to be. Painting, farming, ocean scientist,”

“Ocean scientist?” Namjoon is surprised by the laughter that erupts from himself. “Yeah, I’d be a marine biologist in another life. But, Maybe all I want is to be a dad?” Maybe what I dream of now is quiet Sunday mornings with you, interrupted by a child's laughter.

“You’ll be an amazing dad.” Seokjin’s voice is soft like a whisper. Namjoon’s stomach hurts, and he doesn’t have any time to reply before Seokjin steps up from the couch. “I’m gonna make some tea. Do you mind if I help myself?”

“Can you make me chamomile tea?” Namjoon asks in a small voice and Seokjin hums back a reply. The open layout of Namjoon’s apartment allows Namjoon to watch as Seokjin moves around in his kitchen. The sight is familiar, a ghost of a past and an alternative reality.

“Did you fight with Yoongi?” Namjoon asks when Seokjin returns to the couch with two cups of tea in hand.

“Yeah.” Seokjin sets down the cups, a sigh on his lips.

“Maybe you should give him sourdough.” Namjoon jokes. An inside joke, with himself. Seokjin looks at him, confused.

“What?”

“Nevermind. What did you fight over?”

“Uhm. Me, I guess. We’ve had this same fight before? Remember when I stayed in your room?”

“I do.” Namjoon nods. Seokjin woke up beside him every day. Best goddamn week of Namjoon’s life. Not that he’d ever admitted that.

“Well, this fight started the same way. Yoongi thinks I’m emotionally constipated and I think Yoongi has no business telling me about my feelings.” Seokjin sighs, “He’s right and I’m stubborn, so.”

“He’s angry because you’re- what? emotionally constipated?” Namjoon snickers disbelievingly.

“I told him what happened between us. He looked at me and just knew. Plus the smell of sex was, uh. Yeah.”

Namjoon nods, feeling a little ill. Of course, their little rendezvous couldn’t be kept a secret. “And he got angry because of that?”

“That didn’t set him off initially. He told me we’re both fucking morons - his words, but didn’t get angry with me until he noticed we weren’t talking. Called me a coward.” Seokjin admits, self-deprecating with a lopsided smile on his face.
“And yeah, you know that fight all those years ago?” Namjoon nods, and Seokjin continues. “That fight was about you.”

“You fought because of me? And then you slept in my bed? I can’t imagine that went down well.” Namjoon chuckles. He’s never heard any of this before. Did they fight because of him? “Why did you fight?”

”I’ve liked you since you were eighteen. Even when you thought I was nothing good but a pretty face. I liked you.” Seokjin explains but won’t even look at him, but Namjoon’s heart beats painfully like reality is warping once again.

Like him? Since he was eighteen? Him with his awkward hair and his unwavering wrath towards the world and himself. Seokjin liked him?
Namjoon can’t help the smile that crept onto his face, his head spinning. His heart beats fast as it does after hard-core choreography.

“That fight was when Yoongi found out. He told me to tell you about my feelings or get over it, and I refused to do either so he told me I was an idiot. Not his best move.” Seokjin’s eyes are unfocused and his face is stuck in a quiet smile.
“When Yoongi realised I was serious about you he was less angry. He still thought I was stupid though.” Seokjin turns his gaze towards Namjoon now, eyes open and searching.

“Serious about me?”

“Yup. I realised I was in love with you around when we were shooting for our youth album, You know, the air balloon? What a kicker!” Seokjin slaps his knee like he’s telling a joke. There’s no punchline, just Namjoon who feels like he’s been punched. Love? Namjoon doesn’t remember a lot from that photoshoot but he remembers Seokjin barely speaking to him for most of it. They hadn’t interacted until they sat freezing in the air balloon together. Seokjin put his head on Namjoon’s shoulder and the world stopped for a moment. Seokjin had been in love with him then?

“That was six years ago!” Namjoon feels something akin to a happiness bubble in his chest but it’s not that, because there’s something dark there, definite and simmering.“You never said anything.” Namjoon doesn’t know why, but it feels like he has been robbed of something. A decade of Seokjin holding a flame for him, a decade wherein some moments, Namjoon had convinced himself he wasn’t worthy of love.

“You didn’t feel the same way back then,” Seokjin says certainty in his voice like he’s gone over it in his mind a thousand times. Namjoon thinks back to his younger self and how he always kept close to Seokjin. It’s not true that he didn’t feel the same way, back then. He didn’t have enough words to pin what the feeling was but the love was brewing under the surface. ”I did tell you my feelings for you. Numerous times, during interviews, after concerts. I said you were my celebrity crush, even.” Seokjin tells him. He had done that, confessed a hundred times over, disguised as a joke. Namjoon hadn’t understood. He thought Seokjin wouldn’t ever catch feelings for someone like himself. Of course, it was a joke. But it wasn’t.

“I even tried to confess after that night, but you said it was a mistake,” Seokjin continues after a beat. How many times has Namjoon unknowingly rejected Seokjin?

“I thought you said it was a mistake too,” Namjoon sighs, feeling heavy.

“I wish I had told you sooner. I’m sorry I never did.” Seokjin reaches out and takes Namjoon’s hand carefully like he’s scared Namjoon is going to run off again, reject him again. “I guess fear has held me back all these years. I should’ve said something when I realised I was wholeheartedly in love with a mint green hair-coloured nerd.”

Namjoon snorts out a burst of laughter, disbelief still coursing his veins. All that time, Seokjin didn’t say. Let Namjoon go on dates and try to find love only to fall short over and over. In hindsight, of course, all of his short-lived relationships failed, when the one he wanted was right there in front of him. “I’m sorry too.”

“I’m very in love with you too,” Namjoon says, suddenly realising he hasn’t said anything back. But there’s still this dark feeling simmering inside his chest. “What if we went about this whole love thing the wrong way,” Namjoon adds, trying to put words to what he is experiencing. He thinks back to an alternate reality Namjoon and Seokjin and how perfectly they had gone about things. Like each other. Go on dates. Fall madly in love. Get married. “What if we’re doomed from the start?” Namjoon decides to ask. Are they worth the risk? Should they jump into this? What if Namjoon builds his new dream on a life with Seokjin and then they don’t work out. Will Namjoon be okay again?

“What’s the correct way of loving someone? I don’t think there are any.” Seokjin starts, “Even if it’s doomed, I think I’d still want to try. What if it's a chance at happiness, Let’s be happy together, Namjoon-ah” A chance of happiness. Namjoon has been chasing that feeling for his entire life before he even knew what he was searching for. Love, Namjoon had realised, is the root of all happiness. Love in all its forms. Namjoon has also realised love carries a lot of fear. It struck him as they were talking about disbanding, how life-consuming that fear was.
Losing them. Losing him.
Building his life around Seokjin will only increase that fear, Namjoon is certain. But then again, the universe, fate, gods, whatever it is, told Namjoon happiness is to be found with Seokjin. Maybe he should listen.

A chance at happiness, a chance at sorrow.

“Let’s be happy, hyung.”

The morning sun glistens orange through the window. Namjoon takes the last sip of his coffee, still not satisfied. He prepares himself to get up from the kitchen table to get more coffee when Seokjin pads down the stairs. His black hair is standing up in all directions, clad in a blue bathrobe tied tightly around his thin waist. He looks so cute, Namjoon could burst from it.

“You stole my bathrobe,” Namjoon notes. Seokjin shrugs and walks over to sit down next to Namjoon. He puts his head on Namjoon’s shoulder, a sleepy yawn on his lips.

“What’s yours is mine, isn’t that what marriage is?” Seokjin hums and puts his hand on Namjoon’s naked thigh. His hand is a little cold, especially the platinum wedding band sitting on his ring finger. Namjoon presses a kiss to Seokjin’s temple and doesn’t argue that Seokjin only yesterday made a point about Namjoon stealing his sweaters. ”Are you writing today?” Seokjin asks and yawns again. Namjoon hums in reply. His writer’s block has been ever-present for days now, but he’ll try. He has a deadline on his book he has to reach.

A soft sound of whining plays through the speaker on the counter, a baby monitor that Seokjin had insisted they’d install. Seokjin whips his head up from Namjoon’s shoulder, ready to go, but Namjoon puts his hand over Seokjin’s - the one resting on his thigh, replies softly.
“I’ll get her.”

Namjoon pads up the stairs and walks into his and Seokjin’s shared bedroom and over to the crib. “Hi, Aerin-ah,” Namjoon whispers to his daughter. Her whining quietens when Namjoon brings her little body towards his chest, the warmth and safety of her dad calming her down. “Appa is here. Are you hungry, my little one?” Namjoon asks her, he won’t get a reply but he likes talking to her and longs for the day they will be able to have long conversations with her.

Namjoon pads down the stairs again, Aerin held tight in his arms. Seokjin looks up from his phone and at the two of them with a soft smile on his face. “She looks like she’s in a good mood today.” Seokjin walks forward and strokes Aerin’s black hair. She looks back up at him with big dark eyes. She looks a lot like Seokjin like this. Namjoon has never seen anyone so wonderful before.
“I’ll go warm up some formula,” Seokjin says, letting his hand go from their daughter’s head to rest on Namjoon’s cheek, just for a quiet second, before he heads off into the kitchen.

Years ago, when Namjoon was doubting his future dreams and his probability of happiness, he never imagined he could have this. That he would be allowed this kind of future. Looking down at this daughter, Namjoon feels himself run over by emotions. He never thought he would have this kind of love. Namjoon is so lucky, so happy to have a love so big and overwhelming like the love for his daughter. A love so encompassing and comforting like Seokjin. The meaning of his life.

“Earth to Namjoon?” Seokjin has the formula in one hand and his voice brings him back to the present. “Where did you go?”

”Not sure, but it’s always towards you,” Namjoon answers with as much cheese as he can muster, happy to see Seokjin turning red and laughing.

“Sure, Cheeseball-ssi,” Seokjin smirks and hands over the formula. Namjoon giggles, happiness coursing through him.