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Namjoon’s been sitting on the couch for what feels like hours, waiting. He's almost perfectly still, knows that any move he makes will send his stomach hurling, he’ll crack. He’ll break down before it even happens, and it can't go down like that, it isn't supposed to. He keeps his eyes trained on the ugly orange carpet Seokjin gifted them five years ago, when they moved in. The orange has lost its brightness, and it doesn't hurt Namjoon’s eyes anymore. He guesses he could be content with just staying here, still, frozen in time. He tries to imagine it to calm down. An eternity spent here, on their couch, pretending that Taehyung is coming home from his studio like any other day and namjoon’s just waiting for him. It sounds so peaceful, so familiar. Namjoon has sat here so many times, waiting patiently, happily, fingers tingling with anticipation.
When the door opens, Namjoon stops breathing. The game stops, he can't go on pretending.
There's some shuffling near the entrance: Taehyung taking off his shoes, letting his tote bag slide from his shoulder and onto the ground, his jacket coming off. Namjoon knows it by heart, doesn't even have to look to know that Taehyung must be stretching his shoulders and neck.
“I’m home.” there's no heat to it, only tension. Taheyung’s eyes are wide open, searching, when Namjoon looks up to drink him in. His hair is all ruffled, too long over his ears and forehead. Namjoon loves it. He loves him so much his skin hurts with longing.
“How was your day?” Namjoon’s voice is the voice of someone who's been crying for hours and not talking for even more time. Taehyung winces, looks at his hands, shuffles in place. He feels guilty, it’s obvious. But he shouldn’t. This isn’t his fault, is it?
“Can we just talk?”
Taehyung’s tired. Namjoon can see it in his tense shoulders, his eyes, the way he moves his feet on the ground. He knows him better than anyone else.
And Namjoon is tired, too, has been for a while. He’s tried to hide it, but a ugly feeling has been nesting in his chest for too long, there's no denying it anymore. No use. His energies are all gone.
“Talk.” he whispers, casts his eyes down, can't bear to look in the eyes of the love of his life as he breaks up with him. Although he's had time to accept it, although this has been a process and he knows it, he just can't think about it. Taehyung is Taehyung. He's this warm, happy place, his best friend and the only person who knows him. He’s safe, secure, at home with Taehyung. Three months ago, he would have laughed at the thought of this happening, deeming it impossible. Namjoon is not sure about a lot of stuff. In fact, he isn't sure about anything. Taehyung, he used to be sure about.
Maybe that's where he went wrong. He took him for granted, when he knew that Taehyung is the best thing that could ever happen to anyone. He didn't hold on tight enough. He relaxed in his presence, didn't realise he wasn't what the younger needed. Let their little bubble crack open without even noticing. He didn't realise until it was too late, and something had slipped right in far too easily, entering their seemingly perfect world.
“It's about Jungkook.”
Namjoon knows. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes.
Namjoon falls in love with Taehyung when he's twenty-three and the younger man is a starry eyed twenty-one years old freshman letting his military buzzcut grow into something indefinite. They attend the same art history course and Jimin is the one who gets them to meet for the first time. There isn't much to tell, really. It's sweet and easy, so easy, no grand epiphanies and tragic realisations. Namjoon falls in love with Taehyung like it was already there, waiting to happen. As if it was written in him, on his bones. Boy meets boy, no rocky start, no misunderstandings.
Their first official date happens in a museum, because of course it does. Taehyung is currently obsessed with this contemporary artist Namjoon doesn't understand, and he chats on and on about the meaning of their art to the older man, who nods along and watches him, mostly.
It doesn’t take much for them to get serious, immediately aware of the rareness of their connection. They seem to accept it easily, that is going to be one of those once in a lifetime relationship. They get giddy about it sometimes, especially Taehyung, but nevertheless, they remain conscious of what is growing between them, unrelenting.
Namjoon knows that Taehyung isn't perfect, and he loves him. Loves his words, his laugh, the way he hates shoes with a passion, his hands, his boxy smile. Taehyung is pensive, and bright. He lives in vivid colours where Namjoon is merely a muted brown. He's touchy, loud, passionate, a bit immature, curious, moody, beautiful and doesn’t have an ounce of pride in him. He sleeps with his long arms and legs thrown over Namjoon, hot and sweaty, and that's the way they wake up most days when taehyung starts spending more time at Namjoon’s than he does in his own dorm room.
They move in together one year into their relationship. They expect people to comment about it, to say that it’s too early, that they’re too young. No one does. Everyone can see that this is meant to be.
Easy. Too easy.
It’s a warm September when they set foot in their first home together. Seokjin brings the ugly orange carpet, Yoongi helps them build the Ikea furniture, Hoseok brings the booze so they can celebrate. Jimin paints their bedroom with them, giggling uncontrollably, happy that his best friend somehow managed to be this lucky.
Everyone knows how it goes.
They settle in smoothly. They know each other so well that they barely quarrel at all. There’s a fight about spoons at some point during the second month.
Taehyung starts working as a children’s books illustrator for a publishing house, while Namjoon keeps studying for his PhD. When that’s done, the local university hires him for a year. That year is rough, exhausting. It’s their third year together, and Namjoon spends most of it studying, lecturing, and falling asleep on the sofa as soon as he gets home. Taehyung eats alone, and waits for Namjoon, cuddling up next to him when he finally gets home, seeking his warmth. They sleep on the sofa way too much, aching bones and tired eyes, but it’s better than sleeping separately on the days where Namjoon doesn’t reach the bed in their yellow bedroom. They wake up together, smile at each other, eat breakfast and say goodbye for the rest of the day. It’s okay, until it’s not.
Namjoon quits his job at the university one day. He comes home earlier, sets his bag on the floor, sits on a chair at the dinner table and eyes Taehyung guiltily, silent. The younger one immediately knows. They order take-out and stay up until dawn, scared and happy. They tell each other everything, update each other on all the little things they didn’t manage to say in those long eight months. Taehyung’s smile is big, bright, and so satisfying. Namjoon knows he did the right thing.
He gets another job, at a library. The pay isn’t as good as the university’s one, but they make do. Taehyung is making himself a name in the industry, and they can start to hope he’ll have an opportunity to just make his own art soon.
Namjoon didn’t know he could be this happy. He lingers a little bit longer in bed every morning, half asleep and staring at the back of Taehyung’s head. He traces the lines the pillow left on his face until the younger wakes up with a whimper. His sleepy voice is Namjoon’s favourite sound, and things start to look bright again. They have dinner together every night, and Jimin drags Namjoon to a cooking course to surprise Taehyung for their anniversary.
They go to France, once, and Taehyung cries in the middle of Gare D’Orsay, overwhelmed and happy, never leaving Namjoon’s hand. That's one of the best days of his life.
They hike a lot, to satisfy Namjoon’s everlasting need to be immersed in nature. There's this small house in the woods they sleep in on weekends sometimes. Taehyung loves it, too, it inspires him.
His paintings get more beautiful every day, and people start to be interested in his art. There are a few buyers. Sure, he isn't famous, but he's a bit known now, and the added income doesn't hurt. Namjoon is more in love every passing day.
Jungkook enters their lives on a cloudy March Monday in the form of Taehyung’s new coworker. He’s an illustrator, too, although his genre and style are completely different from Taehyung’s. He's a quiet kid, with big brown eyes and a cute round nose. He’s younger than Taehyung by one year, and they look like puppies together, but they’re so different. Where Taehyung is all soft sweaters and warm colours, Jungkook is big black hoodies, (black clothes in general, really), tattoos hidden and exposed on various places on his body, black, too. While the older boy likes to spend his Sundays painting in the studio he managed to rent, or lazing around with Namjoon, watching documentaries and stuff, the younger is a muscle bunny (it’s Namjoon who first starts calling him that), spending a lot of his time in his gym, as if preparing for some kind of apocalypse. Where Taehyung is all acrylics and watercolours, Jungkook is an ink guy, a drawing tablet guy when he feels like it. That’s why they hire him, because his style is new, and fresh, and so different from what Taehyung offers.
That’s why Taehyung starts constantly talking about Jungkook when he comes home for dinner. Namjoon is cooking his (now excellent) jjajangmyeon and the younger man has been ranting for half an hour about “Gukk’s perfectly steady hand", and about he could never “hold a pencil like he does”. Namjoon serves dinner on their tiny table and the man still hasn’t stopped talking. Namjoon kisses him to shut him up. Taehyung mumbles happily into it and looks at him with loving, fond eyes.
The starry-eyed boy starts hanging out with Taehyung after a couple of weeks of them working together, but when it happens, Namjoon is never there. They go get ice cream together, they grocery shop together, they visit temporary art galleries so they can update their art, get more inspiration.
Taehyung starts adding flat, wide, lines of black in his art after a couple of months. It’s December.
For his birthday, Jungkook gets invited home and Namjoon finally meets the man, the legend. Although Taehyung described him hundreds of times, like an overeager four years old, the older man still feels taken aback when the moment comes. Jungkook is blushy, voice barely above a whisper when he talks to his older hyung, hands coming up to cover his own ears when Namjoon compliments him, tells him about Taehyung’s excitement for his art. He helps with the cooking, and asks a lot of questions. He’s polite, big eyes staring around when no one’s talking. The younger men play video games as Namjoon cleans up and they beg him to join them. He can’t resist their doe eyes, and he goes. He loses every single time. Something bubbles happily in his chest.
In January, Jungkook starts hanging out at their apartment. At first, he gets invited to dinner, after work, then it becomes something more. All of sudden, he’s there on Sundays, offering his commentary on Namjoon’s adored documentaries. He sleeps on their couch sometimes, and Namjoon gets woken up by giggles and laughter on those days, Taehyung and Jungkook already active and happy. On one memorable occasion, he drags Namjoon to the gym with him. The older man tries not to think about it. Tries not to think about him. Sometimes, Jungkook will prepare breakfast for all of them, waiting patiently in their kitchen when he’s done, still too shy to go knock on the couple’s door. It all happens so fast, so naturally, that Namjoon could never perceive him as a threat.
Jungkook looks up to Taehyung, watches him fondly, but Namjoon thinks that it’s the same smile Jimin uses. Right? They’re friends, maybe best friends, and there’s nothing wrong about it. Namjoon isn’t the jealous type, has been thriving in Taehyung’s happiness. Doesn’t notice the lingering touches, the whispers, Jungkook’s lips stretched wide over his bunny teeth in an adoring smile.
It’s June, when it happens. Namjoon comes home later than usual on a Tuesday to find the couple already there, giggling to themselves on the couch over something on Taehyung’s phone. They’re a mess of limbs and their faces are close, cheeks brushing against each other when they laugh.
It’s then, that Namjoon realises.
"He talked to me, we - we talked." Taehyung is sitting on their couch now, but there's still distance between them. Namjoon wishes he could reach out and touch him, wishes this was just any day, a random afternoon in their home, wishes there was a way to stop this. He looks down where the younger is worrying his hands in his lap. There's a trace of red paint on his wrist. It looks like home, a home that's going to get taken away from him in a matter of seconds.
"We thought." he stops for a moment, tasting the words on his tongue (Namjoon barely has the time to consider that "we". They used to be "we".) "We think this shouldn’t keep going on like this. We can’t go on like this, Joon-ah."
It's a cliché, really. Considering how things were always so easy with Taehyung, Namjoon supposes it's right that this is happening this way. He simply fell in love with someone else. Namjoon isn't all that smart, or pretty, or fun. He doubts himself a lot, he's anxious most of the time, he has a hard time expressing his feelings out loud. This was bound to happen. He should've realised as soon as Jungkook walked into their lives, chunky boots and glitter-y eyeliner, big eyes and cute lisp. There's no way he can ever compete with that. Jungkook is perfect the same way Taehyung is. Maybe they're meant to be. It's sad, but it's right. They fit together well, always happy and loud when they’re with each other, matching starry eyes and all. As much as it hurts everywhere, Namjoon knows there's no point denying it, trying to stop this. As long as Taehyung smiles.
He hates seeing that crease between his eyebrows, eyes filled with concern. That's not the way Taehyung was made to look like. He was made to be bright, giggly, warm. Lately, he looks like that when he's with Jungkook.
"I understand, Tae." the nickname tastes bittersweet on his tongue, it hurts him. He looks up again. Better look at him as much as he can, while he can. Better take in his long hair, his full cheeks, his heart-shaped lips, the mole on his nose. "I get it, don't worry".
Taehyung looks relieved, chest filling with air as he takes a big breath. He still looks sad, but Namjoon's glad he can make this easy for him.
"I knew-" he tries "I know you how you feel when you're with him."
You used to feel like that with me.
There's a smile on Taehyung's face. Always so sweet, even now. Namjoon wants to curl up on his lap and cry his heart out against his chest. The last time they cuddled he didn't know it would be the last. He had a feeling, but he didn't know the way he knew when Taehyung texted him that they needed to talk this morning.
"You do?" and there's hope in the younger's eyes, a hope that makes it easier for Namjoon. Tae is going to be happy, he's doing the right thing, letting him go, not putting up a fight. He nods. Taehyung smiles bigger. It looks out of place, but there are a lot of things about him that Namjoon doesn't understand, feelings and thoughts he can't follow the younger into. This is one of them. This, he won't follow him into.
He tears his gaze away, overwhelmed. They better do this quickly, rip the bandaid right off. Why are they still sitting here? He suddenly feels nervous, the weird calm that was filling him leaving him all at once. How is Taehyung smiling right in his face as he walks out of his life? Is it that easy to get over Namjoon? He doesn't cry, emotions stuck in his throat. Doesn't speak. Instead, he gets up. He feels Taehyung’s eyes following him as he goes.
“Hyung?” his voice has changed. There's fear there now. Namjoon had told himself that he could make this easy for Taehyung, but it's too painful. For the first time ever, his best friend and lover feels like a stranger. Distant, unknowable. A bit cruel.
He looks around. The tiny kitchen sink in the corner is full with the dishes he couldn't bring himself to wash. There's one of Taehyung’s most beautiful paintings, Namjoon’s favourite, the result of a weekend in the woods when they were still in school. It’s dark in the corners and bright in the middle, tender. Its meaning is clear to him, even though Taehyung painted it when he was still in his abstract phase. He doesn't look at it too long. The big screen they recently bought sits still in the middle of the living room, controllers discarded right next to it from the last time Jungkook came over to play. Namjoon doesn't like video games, isn't good at them. He cooked dinner and sat beside the two of them as they aggressively played something he doesn't remember the name of. It felt good, that day, their laughter filling the small space, Jungkook throwing himself on Namjoon’s lap every time he lost. Namjoon’s so dumb, he didn't see it at first.
“Hyung?” Taehyung is right next to him now. A hand reaches for Namjoon’s arm, but he feels himself flinching away. No more of that. He shouldn't be touching him.
“Can I go now, please?” Namjoon doesn't look at him, keeps staring at the controllers. He clenches his jaw, feels the back of his eyes prickling.
“Go where?”
“I don't know.” he snaps, turns around, and Taehyung is taking a step back, eyes wide. Scared. “Yoongi’s?” it’s a question, but it sounds like the best answer. Yes, Yoongi will let him cry in peace and force him to eat breakfast in the morning. “I just -” he breathes, his eyes swelling up. He curses. “What do you want me to do? Stay here as he moves in? Uh?” he lets out a pained sound. Taehyung is taken aback, perfectly still, mouth slighly open. He knows he’s never seen him this distressed. “I’ll come back to get my stuff, okay?” he’d already started packing this morning, before he had a breakdown over one of Taehyung’s worn out shirts. He doesn't mention it. The other doesn't blink, keeps looking at him with those big eyes Namjoon loves so much.
“What-” Taehyung chokes out the single word with difficulty “What are you talking about right now”. When Namjoon turns, there are tears in his eyes. He doesn't understand. Did he really expect him to congratulate him and sleep on the couch while Jungkook and him lived their honeymoon phase in the bedroom down the hall? He doesn't reply, thrown off. Is Taehyung being mean on purpose? He didn't think it was possible.
“You think I’m breaking up with you?” there's incredulity in Taehyung’s words. What?
“What?” there's sudden static in Namjoon’s head. He wants to say: stop fucking around and let me out. He wants to say: just get this over with, I can't handle this. Does he really have to? Isn't Taehyung supposed to know him best?
“You think I’m breaking up with you.” it’s not a question anymore: the younger’s eyes light up with recognition, and there are familiar arms around Namjoon’s shoulders all of sudden. He feels like he needs to move out of this embrace, run away, but he lets himself breathe in it for a moment. In his confusion, he decides to let himself have this. One of his hands settles over the other’s waist. “We're so dumb.” and Taehyung is laughing, almost hysterically “I’m so fucking dumb, oh my god.”
Namjoon manages to mutter out another “what” before he's being kissed. His brain has stopped working by this point, and he just goes along with it. Taehyung is warm, soft, and big where his hands caress the nape of his neck. It feels good, as it always does.
“I made you think I wanted to break up with you, what the fuck.” Taehyung lets out a strained, nervous laugh against his collarbone and Namjoon squeezes his waist tighter. He has no idea what’s happening right now, only that Taehyung is not breaking up with him anymore, apparently. Taehyung lets go of him and takes a step back so that he can look up at him with his big, honest, eyes. Namjoon stares down into them desperately, lost.
“I probably shouldn't be the one telling you this. We decided to do it like this because we wanted to give you the time to think, and with Jungkookie here, it could get overwhelming for you.” he looks around, trying to find the words. He doesn’t. “Listen, I- wait”. Taehyung power walks to the door, where he left his bag, and retrieves his phone. He lets out another nervous laugh. There’s some tapping, and then he’s right next to Namjoon again. “I’m going to call him, ‘kay?”
Namjoon hums in question, then he sees Jungkook’s name coming up on the younger’s phone and he shuts up. Jungkook picks up on the second ring, interrupting it. Namjoon feels himself hold his breath again. He trusts Taehyung immensely, but he doesn’t understand when he puts the call on loudspeaker.
“Hyung?” the man’s voice is nervous on the other end of the line, and Namjoon imagines him biting on his thumbnail, as he does when he gets anxious. He fleetingly wishes he could be there to comfort him, a hand on his shoulder. He shuts the thought up immediately. “So? ‘D’you talk to him? How did it go?”
“I didn’t actually, he thought,” Taehyung looks up at Namjoon, something weird in his eyes “It doesn’t matter, Gguk, listen. I’ve got you on loudspeaker, I thought-” he doesn’t take his eyes away from him “I thought it’d be better if you tell him yourself.”
There’s a loud noise on Jungkook’s side, a curse, the sound of things shuffling and falling on a carpet. Another curse. Namjoon imagines him bringing his hands to cover his own ears, as he often does. Cute.
“Are you sure?” it’s barely a whisper, as if Namjoon couldn’t hear him like this. Taehyung just hums, nodding, and there are tears in his eyes.
“Namjoon-hyung, are you there?”
Namjoon doesn’t reply, looks at Taehyung with questions in his eyes, hoping he understands. He understands, like he always does. “Hyung’s here” he says, in his place. He hands Namjoon the phone.
“Hyung, this is-” Jungkook clears his voice, stops, tries again “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, so please you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, you can, you can tell me to go fuck myself or whatever, I mean, you have the right to”
“Jungkook-ie, tell him, come on.”
Jungkook breathes wetly on the other side of the line, shifts, gulps, talks.
“Namjoon-hyung” he whispers, shy, like he’s telling a secret “I really really like you. Like you both so much”.
Taehyung’s eyes search Namjoon's, as the older man’s brain short-circuits.
“This is exploitation, you know, right?” Yoongi is glaring at Namjoon from under the frame of the bed they’re trying to carry into the bedroom “This is the last time I’m helping you build stuff in this ugly-ass house”.
“Of course, hyung” he replies, but he can’t control his grin.
“Good.” the other says “Now, turn a little to the left. Your left, Namjoon-ah, for fuck’s sake.”
They manage to get the frame inside and build it before they need to go get the mattress. They work in silence, side to side, until it’s done. They take a step back, Yoongi’s hands on his own hips, sweaty and satisfied.
“This should be okay” he comments “unless you three decide to add a fourth boyfriend to the mix”. He gets flicked on the back of his neck for that. One look and Namjoon realises Yoongi is going to cry.
That’s when Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin decide to barge into the apartment, loud and messy. “We’re here!” Jungkook announces, as if there was any need for that. Yoongi quickly gains control of himself again and stalks into the living room with a snort. Namjoon smiles to himself and follows him.
Jimin and Jungkook are holding what looks like eight bags of groceries, while Taehyung carries everyone’s bags.
“We bought you hotteok, hyung!” Jungkook says to Namjoon, bunny smile on full display. Namjoon goes red under Yoongi’s eyes. His tummy is full with happiness and is soon going to be full with his favourite treat.
“‘S good to know someone had fun today, you brats.” Yoongi takes the bags from them and deposits them on the kitchen counter. Jungkook runs to Namjoon and hugs him, planting a loud kiss on his lips, to which Jimin responds with an even louder gagging sound.
Namjoon meets Taehyung’s eyes from over Jungkook’s shoulder. They smile at each other, hardly managing to contain their happiness, hearts beating loud in their rib cages.
There are new drawings all over the living room walls. They’re black ink and white spaces, written words and love declarations hidden in steady lines.
Namjoon knows how Taehyung feels.
He feels the same, too.
He just needed a little help realising.