Chapter Text
There's a couple of things that Namjoon thinks about on a daily basis:
First, the creak whenever he sits on his chair at the wonky table of his apartment and the silent promise he makes to himself that he'll call Yoongi hyung to get it fixed; second, when he stops to look at the wall of graffiti he passes on his way to work - a symphony of colors and patterns and lines that Namjoon feels in his soul; and third, the smile that Park Jimin gives him every time they meet for their weekly lunch that shatters every piece of Namjoon's heart and puts it back together in the same moment of time.
"You know what, hyung? Today I'm gonna go wild."
Namjoon's returned grin doesn't match the weight of Jimin's but that's okay. Jimin's always been so bright. "Oh yeah? How's that?"
"I'm going to let fate decide my drink today."
Namjoon shakes off the bits of snow caught on his coat. Early November and it's already snowing - this early in the season, though, snow is fickle in its attachments.
"Is this why we’re sitting in this ass-biting cold? Because you want to ‘go wild’?"
Jimin gasps dramatically. "Hyung, it's the first snowfall! How could we spend it inside?"
The waiter comes by with their menus and Jimin makes a dramatic flair of waving his fingers as they find a random spot on the page. He keeps his eyes closed and asks Namjoon to read out his choice.
Namjoon stifles a giggle. "Mango, strawberry and apple smoothie blast."
"Ah." Jimin scrunches his nose and leans back in his chair. "Maybe I should stick to my virgin mojito then."
Namjoon can't stop the laugh this time, and when the waiter returns to take their order, both Namjoon and Jimin's cheeks are bright red. They give their orders, Jimin hides his face when he says his drink - the waiter doesn't give them any weird looks, thankfully. They're left to talk about Namjoon's upcoming projects and Jimin's weekend disaster in trying to make some variation of tteokbokki that ended with half the sauce on his shirt rather than on the pan.
"Hyung you should've seen it! Hyunwoo hyung banished me from the kitchen for a week, would you believe him?"
Ah yes. Cho Hyun-woo. Jimin's boyfriend of a year and a half now. He's not a huge fan of the guy - but then, Namjoon thinks, he's never been a fan of any of Jimin's boyfriends. It probably has something to do with being in love with Jimin for the past fifteen years.But he’ll deal with Cho Hyun-woo if it means having someone good in Jimin’s life.
"Well, if food is going to be on your clothes and not on the plate, I can't really argue with that decision." Namjoon says.
Jimin rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink. "You're supposed to be on my side, whose hyung are you?"
"Yah, Jimin-ah. Don't question my loyalties."
Jimin chuckles, hand covering his mouth. There's a chilly breeze that blows Jimin's hair into his eyes. A wrench twists its way just under Namjoon's ribs. He's so beautiful, it's unfair - Namjoon has spent years watching Jimin and through it all, he remains the most vibrant spirit around.
"How did that date go, hyung?” Jimin asks. “The one with the cafe owner - what was her name?"
"Seo Bong-cha." Namjoon supplies. That was an interesting date: They had a surprising number of things in common - college antics, worries from their 20s and how being 30+ isn't the death sentence people make it out to be. Namjoon talked about his adventures in Busan with Jimin and she retold the stories of setting her cafe up.
At the end of the night, they stood outside the restaurant and Bongcha gave Namjoon a kind smile.
"I had a lovely time, Namjoon-ssi," she paused, "you're great. Really. But I know that look you had."
Namjoon tilted his head. "What look?"
"Ah, you know. Someone who's love-struck."
It's embarrassing, to say the least. Namjoon did nothing but awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Bongcha-ssi. I hope I didn't offend you."
Bongcha waved a hand. "Absolutely none taken."
"Eonnie!" a scream came from across the street, a woman excitedly waving at the pair of them. When Namjoon turned to look at Bong-cha, he understood. The focused look, the tiny wrinkle at the edge of her eyes as she smiled and breathed in deep.
"As you can see," she sighed, as they watched the woman cross the street, "I'm the same."
Heart-crushingly tiny hands clap in front of Namjoon's face. "Hyung!"
"I- Sorry, Jimin-ah, just spaced out for a second there."
"I'll say." Jimin replies, a dangerous pout finding its way to his face. "Was it that bad?"
Not if you count the fact that both of us are in love with other people and desperately trying to get over it.
Namjoon swishes his straw in the glass and shrugs. "Nah, she was great. Guess we just didn't connect that way. We're gonna stay friends though."
"That's nice. I always love leaving dates with a good experience, even if I didn't see a romantic future with a lot of them.” Jimin shrugs. “I lucked out with Hyunwoo hyung."
There's some respite when the waiter comes by and drops off their food, steaming noodles and the plate of pork sliding onto the table and Jimin ooh's at the sight (even though this is their regular meet-up restaurant and they'll order samgyeopsal that Jimin will work hard on grilling. It's ridiculously endearing, watching him purse his lips and furrow his eyebrows when he initially struggles to get a grip on the slice of pork).
"How's he been anyway? I know you said he was getting stressed at work."
Jimin starts flipping the pork belly onto the other side; Namjoon holds his palms up to steal the heat radiating off the grill.
"Yeah, the year-end deadlines have started to make their rounds at the office so he's been really stressed about that. Anyway, I'm more stressed about going to see his parents in Daejon. It's so wild, hyung. Can you imagine it? Me, meeting parents of a boyfriend?"
My parents love you.
"It is crazy. Mom said she'll be sad not seeing you this year." Namjoon says, poking at a piece before dropping it on Jimin's bowl.
"Ah, hyung, you know I'd love to visit if I could." Jimin whines.
"It's okay, she'll understand."
They start talking about the book Namjoon is editing, a literature textbook on LGBT history in the peninsula - he's been on a five minute rant about the author's awkward edits on some of the sentences and Jimin, as always, patiently listens as Namjoon rambles away while cutting the fat away from the pork belly.
"So things are good then, with him. You’re happy, right?"
"Of course, hyung." Jimin says quickly. Too quickly. "Are we still up for movie night at Yoongi hyung's next week?"
The topic change doesn’t go unnoticed; Namjoon slips away a note to himself to ask Jimin later - he’s known Jimin long enough to know his tells. When Jimin is being cagey, or avoiding something.
"Yeah, hyung's been bugging me to watch that new Netflix movie, the Old Guard?"
"Ah, Hoseokie hyung showed me the trailer for that one last week, it looks good." Jimin adds.
Namjoon sighs. "Thank god you'll be there. Hyung and Hob-ah are driving me nuts, I feel like I can cut the tension in the room with a knife. If they could just kiss and confess, I could deal so much better but no. With Yoongi drunkenly crying about Hobi’s perfect heart smile and pretty bones- which, by the way, I have no idea what he even means- I’m just about ready to wring their necks."
"It's getting that bad? Just stick them in Yoongi-hyung's bedroom for the night, they'll have to confess then."
Namjoon gestures to himself. "You think I, a single naengmyeon noodle, can take on both of them? Yoongi hyung will stare into my soul and Hoba will just sigh and say he's disappointed and I will cave."
"If only you had a friend who could stand their ground against two mildly threatening hyungs." Jimin laments. The withering glare Jimin gives him is enough for Namjoon to slide down his seat in humiliation. "Yoongi hyung is literally a human cat and Hobi-hyung will scream if I dump a plastic lizard into his hand. I have to do everything, huh hyung?"
"I don't know about everything-"
"Shush and eat your meat."
Namjoon laughs at the harsh tone - the cold is unsettling but his heart is warm with love. He has Jimin's friendship - this special, steady bond with the younger man that has stood steadfast for a long time. He's not going to jeopardize that.
By the time they're done and Namjoon is walking back to his office building, snow begins falling at a heavier pace - the thin layer on the ground melts away just before another layer forms above it in quick succession.
He's making a mental list of things to finish as he gets back. Finish off that manuscript, email in the edits to Eunha, send that meme to Jimin on Instagram-
It's not even been 10 minutes and Namjoon's already thinking about him.
Hyunwoo is a decent guy, he tells himself.
Jimin is happy, and in love. Jimin's meeting his parents, for god's sake.
You're going to be a good friend, and you're going to watch Jimin blossom under the love that he deserves, because he's happy with the man he's with and you're not going to ruin that for him.
The phone is out of his pocket , fingers already dialing Yoongi’s number.
"Namjoon-ah. Are you on your way back to the office?"
"Yeah, hyung." Namjoon knows how his voice sounds - stuffy and wet and not from the cold.
"I know, Namjoon-ah. It's okay. Hyung's here."
Under grey clouds and falling white, Namjoon cries just a little bit every Thursday afternoon while Yoongi quietly listens and occasionally encourages him with a few words.
"You're doing so well, Namjoon-ah. You'll be okay."
Namjoon musters what breath he can and whispers a quick "Thanks, hyung. Love you." before dropping the call.
He reminds himself to call his mom tonight, after dinner. And he has to pick up some new fertilizer for his plants - they'll need some tending to this weekend. Namjoon will do what he can to get crescent-moon eyes and short brown hair out of his mind.
(A little voice in his head cackles Not a chance.)
***
There's gentle fingers working through his hair - lights from the TV bright enough to filter in through Namjoon's closed eyelids. He's tempted to give into sleep, with the quiet hum of the movie and whispers that Hoseok and Yoongi share in the background.
"Rough week, hyung?" Jimin says.
"Mh, yeah."
Namjoon thinks about the busy days at the office, a lonely apartment that waits for him with chilly wooden floors, and his herb plants that are slowly starting to wilt with the change in season, and an abandoned scarf he’s been trying to knit, in varying shades of navy and cyan and azure, laying over the arm of his sofa.
(In blue, of all the colors; his own subconscious bleeds into things to create for Jimin).
"Do you need to move?" Namjoon whispers. His head rests on Jimin's lap, who keeps his feet tucked under his legs. The cotton of Jimin's pants are soft under Namjoon's cheeks, while another hand rubs soothing circles on his shoulder.
It's easy, calming, and so good; being Jimin's friend means affectionate touches and tight hugs and compliments and love that roll off his tongue like they are natural. In this space, Namjoon is deserving of Jimin's love.
"I'm good, hyung. Just rest for now - you've worked hard." Jimin murmurs.
The back of Namjoon's throat tickles but he'll be damned if he moves now, not as Jimin's hand runs in slow lines around the crowd of Namjoon's head and Namjoon can close his eyes and pretend like the tender touches are romantic.
At some point, the hand on his shoulder travels from his neck to scratch his ears and ends at his nose. Namjoon scrunches his nose and sticks his tongue out to ward away the offending hand before capturing it in his own, palms pressed against each other.
There's a brief chuckle above him; Jimin shifts his legs before folding them in the other direction, feet poking at Namjoon's back.
"Ew, Jimin-ah, what the fuck."
"Got you, hyung."
A notebook sits by his night stand, tattered and cheap and brimming at the torn edges with sentences that run on and paragraphs that swim between the lines. A majority of them are scribbled memories, soaked in the ink of nostalgia.
Their first trip to a mall that had come up in the city, wide-eyed and young teens trying to sneak past the guards who would send them back with one look at the rumpled school uniforms.
Jimin visiting Namjoon's home for the Christmas holidays, sheepish smile and deep bow for his parents as his suitcase trails after him on the doorstep.
Visiting Jimin's parents' memorial on their first death anniversary, a bouquet of flowers and basket of fruits in hand as Jimin quietly talks to them, and quietly cries for them.
"Hyung."
Namjoon hums in response.
Jimin tilts Namjoon's head to the other sofa, where Yoongi lays slumped against Hoseok's shoulder, Hoseok's cheek in turn resting on Yoongi's head - their hands intertwined in Yoongi's lap.
"Finally. I'm glad I didn't have to resort to your 'locking them in a room' plan. Really thought I was about to suffocate in the repressed feelings."
Jimin scoffs. "This coming from the person who'd wait a year before confessing to someone - you remember Jiho hyung, from third year? I had to physically push you to go up to him and tell him you liked him."
Namjoon twists up to look up at Jimin. Jimin smiles down at him (with mirth but also a peek of something in his eyes) and shakes his head, dangly earrings swaying and catching the light. He remembers going with Jimin to the studio, air-tight grasp on Namjoon's arm as the lady held the gun to Jimin's ear.
Jimin's hand settles on the lower end of Namjoon's rib cage, rising with every deep breath Namjoon takes.
"Jiho hyung was intimidating - and you’re one to talk, you were no better with Taemin hyung."
There's nothing but the responsive blush - a hint of red that blooms on the apple of Jimin's cheeks. Namjoon could spend hours tracing the lines of his face; the curve of his cheeks and his eyes and his neck.
"Taemin hyung was way out of my league, thank goodness I didn't tell him about my crush."
Namjoon could say that Jimin can be thoughtless at times - that he doesn't always consider the consequences of his words, or actions when it comes to other people. That he can be superficially judgmental about things; that he's stubborn about his decisions and struggles to ask his loved ones for help when he needs it.
Namjoon could say that Jimin is kind, honest and giving - that when he realizes he's said something that's hurt someone, he'll immediately apologize; that there is no room for a grudge in his heart.
Namjoon could say a million things and then some about how Jimin exists in his own galaxy, twenty thousand leagues above everyone else - how Jimin soars in the skies of Namjoon's life, an ever-present warmth of love and kindness that Namjoon fails to return. That it isn't that Taemin (or anyone else for that matter, Namjoon included) was out of his league, it's that Jimin is out of theirs.
"Jimin-ah."
"What?" The shine in Jimin's eyes isn't missed.
"Why are you crying?"
Jimin doesn't react, not instantly - he wipes at his eyes a few seconds later.
"Am not."
"Your shirt sleeve says otherwise."
Jimin punches his tiny fist into Namjoon's shoulder. "Where did this smart-ass hyung come from?"
"Yah," Namjoon frowns, "what's going on? You can tell me."
Jimin sighs, fingers curling strands of Namjoon's hair. "It's stupid, it's not even important, don't worry about it-"
"Jimin-ah." Namjoon stares, eyes fixed on the way Jimin blinks a stray tear away.
"It's nothing, hyung."
The clench of Jimin’s jaw tells Namjoon enough; he doesn't press further. The blue light of the TV rests on Namjoon’s eyelids as he closes his eyes, feeling the soft of Jimin’s fingers lull him to sleep.
***
The nights get dark sooner and the temperature drops to the single digits early in the evenings, waning sun spreading the last of its presence just as Namjoon leaves his workplace. There are days when he leaves late and he's met with the bustle of people in the commercial sector, bundled in coats and scarves - it's cold air but the atmosphere tints itself in excitement.
He's out with Yoongi and Hoseok on a relatively warm day, the latter who has managed to pull the unwilling roommates out of their blanket cocoons to watch a street dance performance in Sinchon(hosted and performed by one of Hoseok's many friends, no doubt). Namjoon blows the steam from the top of his cup - he wishes it was coffee but he's settling for the black tea.
("Hyung, this much coffee in your system isn't healthy! You know, there was this article on Yonhap on the health issues related to caffeine and how normalized it's become-"
They're grocery shopping, and by sheer coincidence, the coffee has run out and Namjoon has to re-stock. He dumps 3 boxes into his cart.
"Jimin-ah, I love you," Not in the way you think, "but I'll be fine. I only have 3 cups, you know that."
Jimin mumbles. "We'll see about that."
Namjoon had brushed the statement off, simply brushing Jimin's hair. In hindsight, he should've known - the grin Jimin had given him was anything but innocent.
The next morning, when Namjoon blearily opens the drawer for his coffee - it looks suspiciously spacious. The drawer is reserved for coffee and coffee alone, so the fact that Namjoon can see the wood at the bottom is a bad sign. When he yells for Yoongi, his coffee partner, the two of them stare at the single box of coffee powder and the attached post-it in the drawer.
Hoseokie hyung and I agree that you both need to start cutting your coffee intake and we are genuinely concerned for your health :( so you're only allowed one cup in the morning from now on :D namjoonie and yoongi hyung, hwaiting <3 )
The group dancing in the plaza end their set with a bang, the center dancer blowing water in the air and drawing applause from the audience who watch with awe.
Hoseok runs off to greet them with lemme just say hi, so Yoongi and Namjoon stand quietly sipping their drinks.
"So," Yoongi starts, "how many Jimin spirals have you had since this month has started?"
Namjoon turns to hook his chin over Yoongi's shoulder, careful to hold the coffee against his chest. "He's sent me snaps of 3 different winter sweaters this week alone." Namjoon mumbles.
"So five, then."
"Yeah, that's a fair guess."
"Well," Yoongi takes another sip, "come on. Hyung will treat you to tteokkbokki."
"Yeah, just. Can we stay like this for another minute?"
Yoongi sighs. "Yeah."
Namjoon tries his best to drown out the noises of the plaza, focusing on the blood rush in his ears and steady up-and-down of Yoongi's shoulder. He's supposed to meet Jimin tomorrow to scope out an obscure second-hand bookstore; he's excited, as he always is when it comes to seeing Jimin and his cheeky smile.
(Maybe, in another reality, that smile is reserved for a Kim Namjoon who makes his feelings known and returned. Just maybe).
“How’s work?” Namjoon asks
Yoongi sighs again. “Stressful, but fun. We have a new intern in the kitchen and they’ve fucked up more often than not, but they show a lot of potential.”
“Yeah? And what about with Hoseok-ah?”
Namjoon senses the roll in his eyes. “Wonderful, thanks for asking.”
“If only someone had listened to me earlier, I really feel like I said something to a hyung about communication-”
“Need I remind you that Jimin will soon start wearing scarves again?”
His blood drains from his face. “Oh no.” The thought alone has him in dread for the sheer amount of cuteness that will exude from the selfies that Jimin will send and then he’s thinking about Jimin’s smile and how his fingers wrap around mugs of hot tea.
"Yah. Stop moping, if Hoseokie sees you like this, he'll make you talk about it - is that what you want?"
Namjoon contemplates the thought and shivers. "You're right, it isn't that kind of an evening."
He rights himself just in time for Hoseok to skip back to them, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. "What are we talking about?"
"The morning's news." Namjoon blurts out (because why not?).
"Yeobo," Yoongi says, sliding his hand into Hoseok's coat pocket, "let's get teokkbokki. This dummy here hasn't eaten lunch and wouldn't stop complaining."
"Yah, Namjoon-ah, what have we said about skipping meals?"
They walk ahead of Namjoon, who's left to glare at the smirk and shrug that Yoongi gives.
You evil little twink, Namjoon thinks.
He does not think that when Yoongi hands over the cash for their plates of tteokkbokki.
"Thank you, hyung." Namjoon says, sprinkling in some aegyo for the extra annoying effect.
Yoongi grimaces and pokes his chopsticks between Namjoon's.
The night winds down easy enough, this time accompanied by a gentle breeze - Yoongi and Hoseok walk ahead, in whispered secrets and tightly-woven fingers, while Namjoon scrolls through the texts on his phone. His mom has sent a video of Monie in the park, sprinting the length between benches before running back to his mom. There's a couple more messages on the group chat on his phone, no doubt some of them as forwards or reminders. A notification pops up: Jimin's profile picture flashes in the notification bar.
[mochi jiminie ani]
hyuuung
hyung
namjoonie-hyung
namjoon-ah~
The corners of Namjoon's mouth quirk up. Namjoon believes that multiple universes and realities exist; there must be one in which Jimin is the hyung between the two of them. That Jimin is probably over the moon to be able to boss around Namjoon.
[namu-namu-namjoon]
yah
who are you saying namjoon-ah too
In this universe though, Namjoon will hold it over Jimin's head (both figuratively and literally) and doesn't plan to let it go that easily.
[mochi jiminie ani]
i knew that would get your attention
listen
are we still on for tomorrow~
[namu-namu-namjoon]
of course
ive already got my schedule out to leave early
[mochi jiminie ani]
kyaa, nice
im soo excited, there's this book ive been hunting for
<>
Jimin's finger heart is held just in between his eyes, face scrubbed of makeup but still glowing, ethereal. The shade of nail polish on his fingers is one Namjoon recognizes as his own - a deep navy blue that glistens in the reflection of the light.
"Yah, Namjoon-ah. Hurry up, we're freezing!"
Namjoon snaps a quick picture of himself, one eye closed and dimple peeking from underneath his scarf; he's in a slight jog to catch up to Yoongi and Hoseok, who separate just as Namjoon reaches them.
"If I lose fingers just because your uselessly long legs don't walk fast, my bony ass is coming for you first." Yoongi gruffs out but under his collection of winterwear, the threat falls flat against the pavement.
Namjoon boops his nose. "Sure, hyung."
Hoseok laughs and it's so cold that Yoongi and Namjoon have to laugh with him. Hoseok has that effect - the comfort of a friend who is always there, someone who forces him to be better and wouldn't let him wallow in himself too long.
He thinks a conversation with Hoseok will come - Hoseok will catch him at a weak moment and reel him in with promises of coffee and the incredibly soft carpet in Hoseok's bedroom that Namjoon adores running his fingers through.
When they're home and Namjoon cozies up under the comforter, sleep is quick to embrace him.
***
Weeks blaze by with deadlines and manuscripts and meetings - Seoul gets cooler and the calls with his parents get shorter. He's excited to see his sister (though he'll never admit it).
Messages with Jimin grow sparse, both of them consumed by the busy-ness that the end of the year brings. Hyunwoo's many contacts host so many Christmas parties up and down the venues of Itaewon and Gangnam that they're expected to attend, so it's not surprising that they haven't spoken.
There's one free evening when Jimin gets a chance to call after almost 2 weeks, one Namjoon had originally planned to spend making a list of things to take home.
"Hey, hyung."
He sounds tired. "Jimin-ah. You sound tired."
"God, I am. The past few weeks have been exhausting. I've been dragged to so many parties that if I see another glass of wine, I'll run into the ocean."
Namjoon settles into the sofa, blanket pulled over his legs. "Our Jiminie has worked hard, huh?"
Jimin sighs on the other end. "Jiminie has."
Neither of them speak for a few seconds before Jimin starts. "How are your projects, hyung? And eommeo-nim? Have you started shopping for her saplings?"
Namjoon smiles. Of course Jimin remembers how his mother asks for different saplings to be brought from Seoul.
"You wound me, Jimin-ah. Don't you have faith in your hyung?" Namjoon teases.
"Not really."
They laugh in unison. Conversation swiftly moves to Namjoon complaining about a high-maintenance author who out-right refused any edits on his manuscript, Jimin providing appropriately timed and measured gasps for the dramatic effect.
"Hyung, no. He refused to add indents on the third paragraph? What an atrocity."
"Jimin-ah, that's serious here! It's a textbook, without indents, it just doesn't hold attention. Do you remember that one time you found my physics textbook with the really cool snail memes?"
"Okay, okay." Jimin acquiesces and Namjoon can almost imagine the way Jimin would have his, palms open in surrender.
When Jimin's story about the fifth corporate party involves a haughty CFO subtly condescending Jimin's dance studio, he knows; there's a strain to Jimin's voice that tells a different tale.
"Jimin-ah, tell hyung what's wrong. What's going on?"
Jimin shuffles something on the other end. "It's just - I'm so tired. I don't know why Hyunwoo insists we have to attend every single party that we have an invitation to - he needs to socialize so much for his work and I get it but after a certain point, it's just too much!"
The clock on the wall ticks a second ahead.
"I asked him about it and it escalated into a full-blown argument about whether I even care about his work when he's been working for that promotion - you know the one I was telling you about-" Namjoon hums, "yeah, so he's been working really hard for that and I get it but. I spend the entire day working my ass off on choreos and practices and classes - and then I have to get ready for another round of pompous assholes who sit at their desk all day, already down a bottle of soju-"
"Hey, I sit at a desk all day." Namjoon teases.
"Hyung," Jimin's voice softens just so, "you know what I mean."
"Okay, okay. Go on."
"There's nothing else to go on, I'm just...so drained."
Jimin is, in every sense of the word, giving. He puts so much of himself in everything he does - his studies, when high school was the hardest obstacle to overcome; his dance, where he channels all of the passion he has for the craft into movement. Jimin will shower his friends in compliments and support them in simple words and actions.
Jimin gives and gives and gives.
Namjoon just wants to be the strength Jimin gives other people.
"Jimin-ah."
"Hyung."
"Is there something...deeper to this?" Namjoon suggests.
"Something feels...different with Hyunwoo and I-" there's a weight in Jimin's words; words carefully measured between moments. It's a honey-drip of secrecy over the phone, of subtle hints, "we're not the same. There's like - this space between us, like I can't reach him anymore. He's there but he's also not. God, I sound. That's- that's absurd, right?"
It takes a second for Namjoon to respond. "Does he make you happy?"
"...yeah."
Namjoon doesn’t know how he should interpret that. Jimin says it like an after-thought.
"Then maybe this is just the stress of the holidays?
"Maybe. You're probably right, I'm flipping out for no reason-"
"Jimin-ah, that's not at all what I said." Namjoon rushes to say. He's sitting up straighter, on the edge of his seat. "I don't think you're over-reacting, not at all. It's exhausting to socialize all the time and maybe you are feeling the distance, but sometimes we get into a different headspace about the relationships we have at the end of the year - they feel a lot more...final. But the new year is arbitrary - you're still the same person before and after."
"Yeah, I think I get it, hyung. I should just talk to him, right? We've been so stressed and haven't had any time with each other. In fact," there's some muffled sounds on the other end of the phone - Namjoon can only assume he's moving, "I'm going to head to the store right now and bring our favorite bottle of wine and some fried chicken."
Namjoon smiles sadly. "That sounds like a great plan."
"I love you, hyung. I don't know what I'd do without you." Jimin says - he speaks with so much sincerity, Namjoon can almost fool himself into thinking that a string in his heart didn't just snap at the words.
I love you, hyung.
Do you?
"Yah, just talk to him. Relationships are communication, you know that. Let me know how it goes."
"Yes, sir." Jimin mocks. "Bye, hyung."
The phone is tossed onto the seat beside him and Namjoon can do nothing but hold his head in his hands, fingers lightly tugging the roots of his hair. Someday, he'll tell Jimin how he feels - the sun will set in dozens of pastel colors; there'll be a chill breeze and cherry blossom trees in bloom. Namjoon will press his forehead against Jimin's and whisper sonnets of love and Jimin will whisper them right back.
For now, he settles for bundling up in winter coats and stepping out for groceries.
For now, he will not think about Jimin, his arms wrapped around someone else and booping noses together in the snow fall.
You love me, Jimin-ah.
But not the way I love you.
***
“Namjoon-ah!”
Namjoon responds warily. “Yes?”
“Yah, just come to the kitchen when your eomma calls you,” she scolds.
Namjoon groans when he stands but doesn't argue the command; he knows better than to argue with his mother when she's calling. He leans against the counter opposite to where Han Nari stands, fingers carefully slicing sections of green onion.
"Go with your appa and get some samgyeopsal, we're going to need more since your sister has decided her husband will come after all."
"Eommaaa." Namjoon whines, hoping his puppy-dog eyes will dissuade her form sending him out. It's a chilly day and he doesn't want to step outside with the wind on his face. "Why can't Geongmin-ah bring it when she comes?"
Nari points the knife in his direction. "Are we questioning simple instructions now? A few years away from home and you're too big to go to the butcher, I see how it is."
Namjoon rolls his eyes. "Fine, I'll go. Over-work your son like this and see what happens when my office calls you with bad news."
That earns him an actual whack. "Ow!"
"Talk like that and I'll be the one calling instead."
Namjoon pouts and feigns pain at the spot before grabbing his wallet and alerting his dad. "Okay, okay, we're going. Appa, come on, eomma needs meat."
She mutters something that Namjoon doesn't quite catch, but it sound suspiciously like "If Jimin-ah were here, he wouldn't complain-"
Kim Sungho doesn't react at first, only jerks when Namjoon waves a hand in front of his eyes. The baseball match is still in its first few innings, so they're not going to miss much. "Appa, let's go."
"Ah, okay." Finally, he stands and goes to change.
There's an itch in his fingers to open his phone and check for messages - he's not fooling himself into believing he's expecting emails or company updates. His chat room with Jimin is pinned at the top of the board; it remains the same as it had been a week ago.
[mochi jiminie ani]
they'll like me, right?
[namu-namu-namjoon]
of course they will!!
how can they not
you're a little mochi
[mochi jiminie ani]
hyung!
[namu-namu-namjoon]
kidding, but really jimin-ah
you have nothing to worry about
[mochi jiminie ani]
:3
okay, we're packing the last of our bags,
i gotta go :((
[namu-namu-namjoon]
park jimin, hwaiting!
[mochi jiminie ani]
The heart sticker blows kisses and Namjoon can't help but stupidly smile at the screen. He wonders what Jimin will be doing - would Hyunwoo's parents be good to him? Do they like Jimin?
He can't imagine anyone meeting Park Jimin and not instantly falling in love with him.
"Namjoon-ah, let's go." His dad says, and he leaves his phone on the side table by the door.
It's better this way, with it out of his sight. He vows not to check it until tomorrow - he’s already wished Hoseok and Yoongi, along with messages to his colleagues. He doesn’t want to bother Jimin and distract him. With a sigh, Namjoon pushes the door and lets his dad walk through first and closes it behind him. The beep of the lock is soft enough that he doesn't hear it.
***
When they come back, Geongmin and her husband have arrived, presents and suitcases in tow for the stay.
"Look at you, oppa. You're even ganglier than last year." She greets him, ruffling his hair before moving to hug him. She's much shorter than him but it's nice to see her all the same. Weekly video calls aren't really the same.
"Your nail polish doesn't match your blouse, so who's the real loser?" Namjoon quips back and hugs her back. "Eomma, you sent me out to get meat so we could have it ready before they came."
His mom gives a deadpan expression before kissing his cheek and turning back to the kitchen wordlessly.
Geongmin sticks her tongue out at him at the same moment her husband comes down the stairs. "Babe, don't you think oppa looks ganglier?"
Sanghoon smiles and drops a kiss to her forehead. "I heard what hyung said about your nail polish-"
"That's right, tell him how it is-"
"And unfortunately, he's right." He finishes and Namjoon laughs along with him, a hand patting Sanghoon's back. "Hey, Sanghoon-ah. How's work been?"
"Killer! IT thought it would be a brilliant idea to upgrade our entire software system in October and it was a mess to figure everything out in time for year-end deadlines." Sanghoon frowns. "What can you do, right?"
Namjoon settles into the sofa. "Oof, I get that. They upgraded ours last year and some of the older employees were really struggling, I felt so bad."
"Right? It was hard enough for us to navigate the whole thing, I don't know how our older workers did it either." Sanghoon responds before standing up. "Let me see if eomma-nim needs any help with cooking."
As soon as his seat is empty, Geonmin darts upstairs and returns with her nail polish collection in hand, cotton balls and remover in the other. "Help me pick another shade, loser."
Namjoon chuckles and scoots forward, perusing the colors while she carefully removes the layer she has on now. "You better have gotten me a nice present this year."
He sighs. "Geongmin-ah, it is not my fault you have zero taste-"
"Not everyone likes leather-bound, leaf-shaped notebooks, oppa."
Her scathing glare is enough for him to give up.
"Whatever. I got you something different this year anyway."
"I should hope so." Geongmin says. "So...how's Jiminie?"
Namjoon tilts his head and considers the questions before shrugging. "Good, from what I know." It's the truth. "He's meeting Hyunwoo's parents for the first time."
"You must be a nervous wreck then." She giggles and Namjoon pouts.
"Don't be mean, what if they're not nice to him? Or it turns out they're like, weird people with toe-nails hanging from the ceiling, or-"
"Oppa, no offence but you need to stop."
He doesn’t divulge Jimin’s stories of the fights with Hyunwoo - it’s not his place. But he thinks about the meeting with the parents and he ponders it anyway. Is it really best idea to be meeting Hyunwoo’s family when they’ve been having arguments like this?
"I'm just saying! Oh, this red goes nicely, how about this?" Namjoon shows her the bottle and she nods. He shakes the bottle in his hand a few times before twisting the cap. "It'll go with the dress you bought for the party too."
She speaks through a mouthful of chips. "Oh god, I totally forgot about that. Good thing I'm changing it now. Did you want me to put it on for you too?"
Namjoon makes a face. "If you have clear, then maybe I can use that."
They don't speak for a few minutes. Commentary from the baseball match fills the silence; there's hushed speaking from the kitchen and the sound of something frying on multiple pans. The party in question is the Christmas party that appa's boss has every year, who always remembers to invite the entire family (seeing as they've grown up with him and his kids, it only seems natural).
"Still in love with Jimin, huh?" Geongmin asks, chin resting on her hands. Namjoon's slow with the first layer on her toes,
"Yup."
"Not gonna tell him?"
"Nope."
Geongmin exhales. "How long is this self-sabotage going to go on for, oppa? How do you think we feel seeing you do this to yourself? I understand Jimin-ah is important to you, he's important to all of us but-"
"But what, Geongmin-ah? What's the solution here? You don't think I've tried to get over him?" Namjoon says. "Show me the other foot."
Namjoon thinks back to graduate school, of the weekend dates he'd go to keep Jimin off his mind - it didn't help that they'd been roommates at the time - one large queen bed in a one bedroom because they couldn't afford anything else.
Jimin's eyes are puffy in the morning. His skin is a light pink and his lips push into a natural pout when he wearily tries to open his eyes against streaming sunbeams. Jimin's hair is always wild in the mornings, soft to touch somehow, and his voice is deep in sleep for the first half an hour of the day, sending shivers up and down Namjoon’s spine even when he thinks back.
It's the most beautiful thing Namjoon has seen.
He's tried meeting other people; he's gone on a blind dates and online dates and matches set by friends and classmates and it's worked a few times, for a little while. He'd had a good run with Jackson Wang, a TA in the sports medicine department, but they'd had a much better chemistry as friends.
But Namjoon would come back and there would be post-its from Jimin on the fridge saying he'll buy groceries if Namjoon does the laundry; post-its became messages when they move into different apartments, Jimin assuring he'll buy snacks if Namjoon buys movie tickets for the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie; messages became promises of buying drinks at their weekly brunch dates (not dates, he reminds himself) if Namjoon will splurge on a dessert with him.
"I don't like seeing you unhappy, oppa." She finally announces. "I love you. And it's painful to watch you in love with someone who doesn't love you back."
The words are glass-sharp. Namjoon's heart has indents that match the shards. "I'll get over him. It'll happen. I'll wake up one morning and meet someone and realize I can be happy with someone else." He finishes the final nail on her toes.
"I hope so."
"Everyone, dinner is ready." His mother shouts, setting the last pot of steaming jjigae on the pot stand. Namjoon dusts his hands on his pants before pulling up a chair next to his dad and Sanghoon.
His dad leans towards him. "When are you going to learn to cook?"
Namjoon looks around the table of delicious food waiting and taps his chopsticks. "As soon as you do."
His dad chuckles at that and bops his head. "The older you get, the more daring that tongue has gotten."
He gives a cheeky smile at that. "Thank you for the meal" goes around the table, and they dig in.
A story of one of Geongmin's employees and how difficult her new job makes Namjoon laugh (and relieves some of the weariness in his chest?). His mom talks about her latest client and how well her home-made candle business is picking up. They're laughing again when Sanghoon tells them about Geongmin's dramatically harrowing embarrassment at a grocery store when she knocked down a tower of tomatoes, and it feels good.
Later in the night, he and his dad are washing dishes; they’re gossiping about his mom’s gardening disaster when his dad randomly speaks up. “Namjoon-ah.”
He looks up. “Yeah?”
“I- I miss him too.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows pinch for a moment before understanding washes over him, and he’s quick to blush and duck his head back to the soapy water. He knows his parents are vaguely aware that his feelings for Jimin run a little deeper than just friendship, but the embarrassment thrums through him all the same.
It only intensifies when a plate slips through the towel in his hands and it nearly cracks on the floor, but he catches it in time. Beside him, his dad bursts into guffaws and Namjoon rolls his eyes. It’s going to be a long night
On the side table, Namjoon's phone buzzes. The sound is drowned in the cacophony of shouts from the dining room, and it lays abandoned despite the notifications.
You have one (1) missed call from mochi jiminie ani
[mochi jiminie ani]
hyung
i know it's late
im really sorry, you're probably with your family and i dont want to disturb
but i was wondering, if it isnt too late
if your mom's offer for christmas is still valid?
anyway, its dumb
just let me know
***
The Christmas party is a fun affair - Namjoon and Geongmin get the chance to meet a bunch of their childhood friends, all home for the holidays. It's funny that most of them live in Seoul but Namjoon finds he's not entirely willing to meet them outside the context of gatherings like this. Brief, alcohol swinging around the place on trays, and meeting an ahjumma here and there who will talk about Namjoon being knee-high and begging neighbors for sweet treats.
Few of them ask about Jimin. It's a usual sight to see Jimin accompanying the Kim family so his absence is noted, though not many of them press for further details. The community had not been entirely welcoming of Jimin's family when they moved into the neighborhood - the odd behavior had continued well past Jimin's parent's death.
It's something Jimin always brings up when he visits. How grateful he is for Namjoon's parents, for accepting him into their home. Namjoon will tell him to stop speaking nonsense, that his mom loves having him stay, and already considers her a son. His dad loves having someone to talk sports with him, and Geongmin has always considered him a part of the family.
Jimin is every bit a thread in the Kim family network.
For now, a statement of "Ah, he's with his boyfriend's family this year. He asked me to say hello to everyone though." is what Namjoon replies to anyone he asks, and it's followed by a gulp of wine.
When there's a moment away from the crowd, Namjoon forgets his promise and accidentally swipes his phone open. There's a few emails, some notifications from Twitter and Instagram but his eyes lock on the KKT message from Jimin.
He's never pressed the 'Call' button so fast in his life.
The dial tone rings a few times before Jimin finally picks up.
"Jimin-ah? Are you okay?" Namjoon keeps his voice calm, steady. He's not going to panic.
"Hyung. I'm fine. Don't worry."
"What - your messages. What did you mean? What's going on?"
There's shuffling on the other end, like Jimin's walking into a room and shutting the door.
Jimin hesitates. "I'm sorry to ask like this, hyung. Is it....too late to come home?"
The words are deliberate, as if he's thought of saying this over and over again. Knowing Jimin, he would've waited until the last possible moment so as to not bother Namjoon or his family.
Namjoon pulls at the tie on his neck, loosening it a few inches down. "Jimin-ah. You're always welcome home. You know that."
He's stepped outside the house now, feet following the stones set in the path in the neatly-maintained garden. The night air is cold but it's difficult to hear what Jimin says with all the noise of people inside. People mill around the doorway as Namjoon walks further away, close to the edge of the property where rose bushes line the compound wall, vines creeping up the sides.
"What happened? Are you safe? " Namjoon asks.
"Yeah, of course, it isn't- it’s not like that. It's just...I had a-a fight with Hyunwoo, we said some nasty things to each other and I- I think it's best if I not see him right now."
"Oh, Jimin-ah.” There’s a part of Namjoon that hurts for the younger; Jimin had been so excited. (Another sick, smaller part of Namjoon keens at the idea of having Jimin come back to him, regardless of the capacity). “I'm sorry. I know how nervous you were to meet them."
"Yeah.” Jimin sniffles once. Namjoon wants to believe it's from the cold. "There's a bus here that leaves at 10 o'clock, I can be there by...oh god, 2 am."
"We'll be up anyway,” Namjoon confirms, “buy the ticket. I'll pick you up at the bus station."
"Hyung, you really don't have to-"
"Jimin-ah, I won't hear it. If it's available, get the ticket and-and come home."
Jimin pauses on the phone and breathes out.
"Okay. I'll text you when I'm almost there, hyung." He finally says, and Namjoon nods, even though he knows Jimin can't see him. When he exhales, the condensation is thick in the lamplight of the garden. The bench under him is stone-cold but the chill brings a grounding comfort.
"Take care, Jimin-ah. Keep texting me, got it?"
"Yeah, hyung. I'll see you soon then." Jimin mutters.
"Bye."
The call drops and Namjoon finds his way back inside the house, head fuzzy with the amount of wine he's consumed and the questions that run amok. He'll have to switch to water now, and his mother's eyebrows raise at the request.
"Eomma." Namjoon starts, taking a sip. "Jimin is coming home tonight. He's catching a bus at 10 and should be in Ilsan by 2."
The smile on her face transforms into a grimace. "Is he okay? What happened? Did that boyfriend of his do something?"
Namjoon shakes his head. "He wouldn't say, but I don't think it's that level of serious, but- eomma."
"I know, I know," she says, patting Namjoon's arm softly, "he wouldn't call if it weren't serious. Omo, where will he sleep? We gave away the spare mattress to that pawn store, I kept telling your appa we need to buy a new one in case of emergencies and now look-"
Namjoon takes a gulp of the water in his hand. "We'll figure something out, eomma. I can put some of my blankets on the floor and I can sleep there."
"Oh, but it’s so cold tonight." She looks apologetic. There’s a stray thread she dusts off his blazer but her attention is elsewhere. She knows Namjoon hates the cold but - she also knows what Namjoon would do for Jimin. "He'll be okay, baby. Don't worry."
***
The clock reads midnight by the time they arrive home and everyone else heads yawning upstairs to get some sleep. Namjoon, though, is about ready to settle into the couch and watch a Netflix film when his mom comes down and heads into the kitchen. There's sounds of the kettle and movement - two minutes later, she walks into the living room with mugs in her hands and steam curling into the air.
"Eomma, go to sleep, you're exhausted."
She tuts him. "I'll sleep when I want to, Kim Namjoon."
It's late enough that Namjoon doesn't protest; she rests her head against his shoulder and exhales. The hum of the TV is a comforting white noise, but Namjoon doesn't let himself relax, or close his eyes.
The drama he's watching is an old one - the main leads are on a date at the moment, all shy glances and bright smiles at each other and Namjoon's mind drifts in and out of the scene.
His mom's breathing has evened out now, quiet and gentle.
Something must have gone wrong with Hyunwoo. Jimin - as spontaneous and lively as he is, it's a somber choice he's made to leave his boyfriend's home. Namjoon mulls over it as a character bounds down the stairs of a high-rise: there's a faded memory of a conversation on the floor of Namjoon's bedroom, grainy and discolored from the years flickering by.
They're still young in the echo; young enough that the groceries in the kitchen are the cheapest options on the supermarket shelves.
Namjoon sits on the bed and gazes at the computer screen, focused on the essay in front of him. The title is lost on him but he assumes it's something for his literature class - Jimin is comfortably tucked on Namjoon's outstretched legs, arms slung over his face. Hyukoh plays in the background - calming, easy, simple.
"Hyung."
Namjoon types in the end of his sentence. "Yeah?"
"What do you think is the ideal moment in a relationship?"
The question is sudden. He looks up.
"That's kind of vague, no? What do you mean?"
"I mean," Jimin twists from his position to rest his head above his hands, fingers fanning over his cheeks. Like this, Namjoon can't ignore the way Jimin's bangs fall just so into his eyes - he looks so beautiful, eyes scrubbed raw of his makeup and mismatched pajamas. "What do you think would be like, the eureka moment where you'd think 'wow, this is it, this is why I'm with them,because they make me feel this, this specific thing about myself?' That 'jjang' moment?"
"I don't know...you can't really define things like that, in my opinion. Our feelings about a relationship are dependent on the way we perceive the other person and each person has something unique to contribute in a connection so I don't know if it's possible to decide how I'd anticipate the way someone else makes me feel."
"It's hypothetical, hyung.” Jimin rolls his eyes. It’s unfair that even this has Namjoon’s heart doing backflips. “What would you want to feel?"
He shrugs. "I don't know."
"Wanna know what I think?"
"Always, Jimin-ssi." The honorific and the haughty voice Namjoon uses pulls the corners of Jimin's lips.
"I think, whoever I date, I would want to feel like I'm in an indie song."
Namjoon opens his mouth to ask but- "Hang on, hyung. Let me explain." Jimin swipes a tongue at his lip. "You know how you watch the MV of an indie song, and you listen to the music - it's easy, you don't have to think over it, dig for its meaning. It's simple instruments and simple vocals - it doesn't demand attention, it's like- like an easy request. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I don't want to work at a relationship, I just - I think, whoever I'm with; I'd want being with them to be calm. Not rushed."
The thing about Namjoon: once he's in a zone, he's immersed. Pieces of him picking apart at whatever thing he's working on at the time. It's that part of his brain that seeps out to the rest of his soul, that analyzes and breaks things apart; an almost desperate need to understand the structure.
(Sometimes, if he's in it too long, he starts picking himself apart from the inside out).
In those moments, like right now, the only thing on his mind is that he has no idea what Jimin might mean. But he thinks about the feeling in his stomach, the loose sensation - like he's untethered and free-floating.
And then he'll look at Jimin's pinky, look at his own. A promise.
"I think I get what you mean," says Namjoon.
"I don't know, is it stupid? It's just - something I've been thinking about lately."
"Of course not."
Jimin chuckles. "Big reassurance, you didn't even answer."
"Yah, Jimin-ssi, am I hearing doubt?" Namjoon places his laptop on the side table and dives in to tickle at Jimin's waist; he bursts into laughter at the abrupt attack.
Ting.
A text tone brings him back to present-day, where the temperature outside has dropped to below zero.
mochi jiminie ani
hey hyung
i'm about 15 minutes away, i think
my phone is gonna die soon so i thought i'd text now
namu-namu namjoon
on my way, wait by the ticket counter
mochi jiminie ani
Namjoon wonders if Jimin feels that calm with Hyunwoo.
***
The station is an artificial bright; fluorescent lights hang from the ceiling in neat, organized rows. Namjoon stands in front of the assigned platform for the arriving bus from Daejeon. The digital sign above him indicates the time.
02:10 am.
It must be running late.
Namjoon blows warm breath in between his palms, rubbing them quickly before they slide into his coat pockets. The wait feels unreal, in the way everything does in the hours between midnight and dawn - like a sliver of another world in between fingertips, hiding under the folds of time.
Bus number 3345, Daegu to Ilsan, will be arriving on Platform 4.
He perks up at a bus that pulls into the terminal (despite the announcement) and his eyes drop when the sign reads Daegu. Pacing seems to help some - at least this way, Namjoon can expend the nervous energy building in his legs and hands.
Thoughts are slow and unfiltered in Namjoon's mind - he tells himself he won't bother with keeping himself in check; that he will allow himself to show Jimin any affection he deems necessary. Jimin needs to know he is loved, that he is cared for, that no matter what has happened, Namjoon is here for him.
It's a challenge for him, he knows. But he thinks it is worth it.
Bus number 5896, Daejon to Ilsan, will be arriving on Platform 5.
Another five minutes and finally, another bus drifts through into the stop in front of Namjoon, heat radiating from the engine in front. It stays running, even as the doors open and people slowly begin filing out. Namjoon takes the opportunity to move a few feet away from the door, enough that he doesn't block exiting passengers and extends his head to catch sight of wavy, black hair.
Jimin must have taken a seat at the back, for the (surprising) number of people who disembark. There's a mother lugging down a suitcase almost her size, her children standing wide-eyed behind her and watching the scene. Namjoon rushes forward with a quiet, "Allow me," and grabs the handle, tugging it up and swinging down onto the platform.
"Ah, thank you so much." She says, smiling with a bow.
He bows back. "It's no problem."
In the time of the entire interaction, Jimin stands before him - backpack slung over his shoulder, a gentle, dim smile greeting Namjoon.
"Hi hyung."
"Jimin-ah." Namjoon breathes.
He's unsure who's moving first, but they take careful steps to each other (hardly one or two, when he really thinks about it), but the arms that wrap around his neck are cold, even in the chilly, late night air.
Jimin's head hooks over his shoulder, squeezed tight around himself and Namjoon grips him just as much. Does his love move through their bodies, he wonders? Don't be stupid, that's not how love works.
Then how does it work?
Namjoon's pulling Jimin closer and he's thankful Jimin responds with the same earnest force. There's a phantom feeling of wetness on his shoulder and when he retracts from the hug, it's to Jimin's eyes shining in the light, puffy and tinged red.
"Let's go home." Namjoon says.
Jimin nods and moves to get his suitcase; Namjoon drags it behind him and they walk out side-by-side. The back of his hand touches Jimin's in brief blinks of an eye.
***
When Namjoon unlocks the door to his house, it's to an empty living room - his mother must have seen his note and headed upstairs to sleep. There's stray noise from the neighborhood that breaks through occasionally, some houses that continue celebrations past midnight but always quiet down quickly.
"Geongmin-ah and her husband are home so we can bunk in my room." Namjoon explains.
"That's fine."
With a practiced ease, Jimin slips his shoes off and tucks his suitcase by the rack, coat hung on the back of the door. His earrings glint in the single ray of streetlight that peeks past the window, and it takes everything in Namjoon not to bend down and pull Jimin into a kiss, soft and sweet. It would mesh with the quiet way they pad into the house and straight up to Namjoon's bedroom (with only a brief stop to the kitchen to fill up a bottle of water).
Namjoon holds the door open for Jimin once he's stepped inside, Jimin's shoulder just grazing his chest. It's a breath he doesn't realize he's holding when Jimin is past the threshold and scanning the room.
"I see you still won't change the curtains." Jimin comments.
He shrugs. "They're perfect as is, why bother changing them?"
"It's good to allow some light into the room, hyung."
I have you- sits heavy at the base of his throat. Namjoon swallows the words down and rubs at the back of his shoulder. "I'll get to it eventually."
The bed dips where Jimin sits, one leg folded in front of him and the other dangling down the side. He remains dressed in his flannel shirt and jeans, an arm wrapped around his own waist as he stares at the collection of papers stuck above Namjoon's desk.
Namjoon remains where he is awkwardly, fingers shoved into his pockets.
"I can get out of the extra blankets and bedsheets for the floor, hyung. You can take the bed." Jimin says lowly, after what feels like a lengthy silence.
"You're a guest, I can't make you sleep on the floor."
Jimin scoffs. "A guest who shows up at two in the morning without any kind of proper warning? I think I've already broken the hospitality rules, hyung."
Namjoon doesn't know what to say to that, but instead: "We could...share. The bed, I mean." The words sound foreign in his mouth, ripped straight from a drama show.
Jimin regards him with wide eyes. Namjoon blurts at that exact moment. "It's just, it's late and I thought we could figure out what to do tomorrow but for now - we can just...share? Actually, never mind, I can just take the couch-"
"No, no," Jimin hastens to say, "I'm fine with- with that, I just don't want to make you-" He seems to hesitate for a second, and then shakes his head. "-It's nothing; you're right. I'll just...go change, then."
There's a break of time where Namjoon processes what Jimin has said and nods abruptly. Jimin moves to pull his clothes from his backpack - this is Namjoon's chance to change too. The heater by his bed remains on, warmth spreading the space to the edge of the bed.
The click of the bathroom door sees Namjoon exhale and change his own pajamas as fast as he can; the mental preparation for the close proximity with Jimin is rapid and successive. He's not sure he knows what he has to do.
This is ridiculous, he's my best friend.
"I can do this." Namjoon whispers to no one.
(Maybe a higher deity could hear him and help out this one time).
By the time Namjoon is done brushing his teeth and rubbing moisturizer on his face, it is 3am. Jimin is tucked under the heavy wool comforter, pulled to where only his head is visible; the fluff of hair that sticks up against the pillow is so endearing.
Jimin’s phone lays abandoned on Namjoon's desk.
"It's colder here," Jimin comments.
"Is it? It must be the sea breeze."
The blanket is a blessing to his body, trapping all the heat of the radiator and the floor heater - Namjoon, though, is only painfully aware of the warm body next to his own. The bed is small enough that they're only a few inches apart between the two of them.
"Must be."
Namjoon pauses. "Are you warm enough?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, hyung."
There's a gargles quality to Jimin's voice on hyung, and it's so hard to ignore now. Namjoon twists himself to where his head lays against an open palm, cheek slightly squished against it. He taps the side of Jimin's head with a finger.
"A penny for your thoughts?" He asks.
Jimin sighs. "I don't have thoughts. I have nothing. My entire brain feels like mush right now, like when I make really yucky eggs and vegetables and it all clumps together on the pan like- like a mess."
The words come fast, like Jimin wants to be done with them and no longer keep them. Like he wants to throw them away, distance himself from the thoughts of his brain. Namjoon thinks he can relate.
"Jimin-ah."
"Hyung."
"Tell me what happened."
Jimin shuffles his legs and takes a shaky inhale. "God, it's so stupid- It wasn't even a big deal, hyung. His parents were nice at first and-and it was going great until I mentioned something about my winter showcase-"
Namjoon remembers that one - Jimin had glowed like the most beautiful angel on stage, graceful and poised movements all throughout. It had been Jimin’s first year as the lead choreographer for both his own solo and two group acts. The pride in Namjoon's chest as he watched the performances unfold had been sky-high.
"-and their expression is completely blank. He hadn't even told his parents."
Namjoon clenches his jaw but doesn't interrupt Jimin, who returns to his flow.
"I thought, okay, this is fine, I'm sure he just wanted me to tell them myself. And so I did, and they seemed to take it fine. But I was feeling kind of miffed, I didn’t want to believe he hadn't said anything. But after that, his dumb brother made some stupid joke about dancers and money and Hyunwoo didn't even defend me and I was so close to crying at the dinner table, hyung. It was- god, I don't even remember what the joke was. I just felt awful and I was yelling at him in our room and he was apologizing to me but it was like, in a bull-shit way, like I was overreacting to the whole thing, saying things like 'Well I'm sorry if you felt bad-' or some shit like that and-"
With his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Namjoon can make out Jimin's fingers angrily tugging at his hair, tufts yanked between his hands. Namjoon’s hands itch to soothe at the tight lines on Jimin’s arm. It’s hard - he doesn’t want to see Jimin like this, not ever.
Jimin huffs and the anger drains out of his voice completely. "We've been fighting for weeks now, hyung. That fight I told you about, on the phone - that was one of the more serious ones but- they've been building for a while."
"You didn’t tell me."
"It wasn't so much when they started, hyung," Jimin explains apologetically, "little spats here and there that resolved pretty quick. And then November came with deadlines and I told you about this, how stressed he and I were. I didn't- it was. I don't even have words, wow."
Jimin turns to where he faces the ceiling again - a blink lets a tear escape. There's something like anguish at seeing Jimin this wounded, by someone who's supposed to love and care for him. Someone who's supposed to be supportive, and kind, and considerate.
Not whatever Hyunwoo has done.
"You know the worst part, hyung? I- I don't think I even know what's wrong. It's like something has been pulling us apart and I don't even know what it is." Jimin laughs emptily. "Isn't that funny?"
The night is still; silent in the wake of Jimin's outburst. Namjoon isn't sure what he's meant to say, if he should speak anything at all. It’s a distinct impression that Jimin is giving voice to these words for the very first time; feelings that have bounced around in his head for so long that they don't even exist.
"I'm so sorry, Jimin."
"What are you sorry for? If anything, I should be apologizing for- for dumping all this on you and showing up at your doorstep at two in the fucking morning like an absolute shit friend and-"
"Hey," Namjoon croons gently. It's with unexpected shamelessness that he reaches a hand to rest against Jimin's cheek. Later on, when he has time to process what he has done, he will scream himself into another dimension but for now; nothing really trickles past the bubble Namjoon exists in - past the need to assure Jimin he's good, and kind, and: "You are always welcome home, no matter the time. Mom stayed up with me until I left to pick you up, did you know that? Dad even promised to make your favourite egg fried rice tomorrow for breakfast."
Jimin sniffles once and shakes his head. His skin is so soft and warm on Namjoon's palm, slightly sticky from the tear tracks.
"I love you," please, Jimin-ah, I love you, "and I'm just sorry you've had to go through it alone and I wish - I wish I could have been there for you."
A beat passes between them as Jimin breathes. "You couldn't have known. It felt so stupid at the time, and I wanted to be able to do it on my own-"
"You don't have to, though." From the window, the sound of a cough makes it through the glass panes.
"Uh-huh." Jimin agrees easily. "I don't know what this means, what we'll do- what does this mean for us? Hyunwoo was apologizing but I just- I couldn't be there, I couldn't...I don't know, it's just - I want to stop thinking."
Namjoon wants to argue. But something in Jimin's tone tells him that this is a conversation for another moment, another day, another time. For as long as he's known Jimin, nothing comes of pushing the younger into a conversation he's not ready for, who will clam up.
Someday, when Jimin wants to open up, he will. And Namjoon would be there, patiently waiting for him to bloom.
"That's okay." Namjoon reassures. "You don't have to do anything, not now, not ever."
Jimin hums in response, chest moving up and down in quiet movements. Namjoon has already retracted his hand, back in its place by his hips and burning from the touch. Sleep is slowly catching up to his eyes now, breath setting itself a more regular pace.
It's been a long day, and a long night, and he wants to push himself to remain conscious but the seconds pass in the silence and the task becomes more and more difficult. Neither of them say anything, for a stretch of time that pulls like soft elastic.
"Thank you, hyung. I've always been able to lean on you." Jimin says, sincerity weighty. "I know you said it's okay, but I'm still sorry for being a burden like this."
"Never a burden, Jimin-ah," is mumbled. It's so tempting to slip into sleep now.
Jimin doesn't say anything to that - the assumption that he's fallen asleep comes soon after, and Namjoon follows at some points. But tender fingers are in Namjoon’s hair, scratching gentle circles that lull him deeper and deeper.
There's a phantom sensation on his cheek, something slightly wet and plush but it must be a dream that has Namjoon smiling. I'm lucky to have you, hyung. And- and I'm sorry that I can't, is murmured into his ear, like someone is right beside it but the thought is brushed aside and he focuses on the darkness that pillows his fall into another dream.
***