Chapter Text
Yoongi had a long fucking day today, which consisted of writing 14 melodies, fleshing out three complete songs, sending those songs to some big corporate people who didn’t care about him or his music and downed eight energy drinks. If he could measure the vibrations in his fingers, they might actually chart on the Richter scale. It’s perfect.
His doorbell had been ringing for the past two fucking minutes, and he wished he could just shut himself out again as he did for the last, what, 5 hours? But he won’t answer it. He has better shit to do than talking to some pointless person. He was on a fucking roll, and no one could stop him. Holly, his dog, could piss on the floor and he wouldn’t get up.
That’s what he told himself at hour 7. But by hour 9, he had to piss. And when he would go to piss, he would have to feed Holly. And then he would have to stretch his back. He opened a new window on his computer to search if it would be easy to just make a catheter at home and to put it on himself.
Turns out, it wasn’t easy. Oops.
He gets up off his chair, with some difficulty, and all his joints cracks. His ass felt cold form the air because he hadn’t got up in 9 hours and, boy, did he really need to piss. And, he also smelt, like sweat and some kind of… cheese? Did he eat?
“Great, now I needed to take a shower as well.” He thought.
He was giving his dog some food when the bell rang again.
“what the fuck? Who the fuck?” He said under his breath while walking towards the door. No one ever comes and rings his doorbell. Seokjin has the code, and his boyfriend, Jungkook probably has it too. Yoongi made a mental note to tell Kook the next time they see each other.
Yoongi decides to open the door out of curiosity at who he could possibly be being mistaken for at– he checks his clock– 10 a.m. Ha. He must have worked through the night. The sun streaming through his windows makes way more sense now.
“What-“ He says, swinging the door open. On the other side was a man so hot that Yoongi could literally get down on his knees in this second if the man asked. He’s wearing the most horrible outfit and surprisingly for Yoongi, it makes the man even hotter. His skin is tan, smooth and looks soft. He’s got– it’s a very good face, Yoongi thinks. Symmetrical. Plump. Worth poking. And those dimples. Those god damn dimples. They might as well be illegal because he could just drown in them.
“Hey, sorry, I’m just coming here to apologize for making so much noise this past night.” The tall man said, “Someone left a note on my door and told me they would report me next time.”
Yoongi frowns, “well it definitely wasn’t me,” he says. “I was wearing headphones for most of the night.”
“Oh!” The hot guy, Yoongi’s neighbour, no, Yoongi’s hot neighbour said, “Well, I made some cookies to apologize and I can’t find the person. Just a warning though, I can’t bake for shit. Anyways, take one.” He said while pushing the container towards the small guy.
Yoongi, he hates dimples for multiple reasons. One of them being, they make him worry so fucking much about his health. The health of his heart. Of his emotions. He takes one of the cookies. They seem fine at first, but as he puts them in his mouth, they feel… dry. Really dry. Like, a desert would be moister than those cookies. He almost coughs, but refrains himself for after when his very hot, and very friendly neighbour goes away so that he’ll think he’s polite, at least.
“itsh gooud,” he says through the crumbs. he says through the crumbs. He must look like absolute trash right now, judging off how he smells, but the guy looks at him with an amused little smile.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” he says with a laugh. “You can tell me they’re bad and I won’t be mad.”
“Well, I’ll have you know, im a really good liar,” he says after gulping down the chalkiness down his throat. “So you don’t have to worry about that.”
The man laughs a little. “Well, I think we should properly introduce each other,” he holds his and out, “I’m Kim Namjoon. Nice to meet you.”
Yoongi looks at his hand in front of him. Is he…, supposed to touch the hot man? With his disgusting hand?
Before he could contemplate to ask him to wait while he washes his hands, Kim Namjoon draws his hand back.
“Sorry,” Yoongi says in response. “sorry, my hands are really fucking gross right now.”
“Oh, no problem,” Kim Namjoon says. “I’ll see you around, neighbor!” He has a different smile now, closed mouth with a side of deep dimple. It’s cute and bashful.
God, Yoongi wishes Namjoon could see him at his prime, wearing a clean shirt and clean pants with clean hair. One of these days, he’ll do his laundry and take a shower. Soon.
He thinks that maybe, if Namjoon had come to his door on a good day, on a day where he’s slept and experienced the passage of time like a neurotypical human being, maybe he could have invited Namjoon in, let him play with Holly while he made them each a cup of coffee and got to know him. Maybe Namjoon would have laughed at Yoongi’s jokes. Maybe they would have kissed on his countertop, coffee forgotten at Yoongi’s side as Namjoon kissed him deeply. If Yoongi had just taken a fucking shower and done laundry, maybe Namjoon would have fucked him in a bed with clean sheets and sunlight streaming in through his window.
Well. At least he can take a shower now.
It’s a good feeling, the water on his body. It’s a feeling he forgot he could have. In fact, he forgot pretty much every feeling besides the plush of his desk chair on his ass and the ache in his lower back from his shitty posture and the weight of headphones on his ears.