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Kim Namjoon was exactly twenty four years and three months old, and he still, quite impressively, could not get his life together.
A hand darted desperately up to smooth down his hair as he tried to maintain balance while sharply turning a corner, weaving through unsuspecting pedestrians with hurried apologies. But he couldn’t afford to be late, not when Jungkook, supposedly resident introvert, now had new friends.
“I’m on time!” Namjoon said triumphantly as soon as he entered the coffee shop. It was mainly empty, save for a few aunties who looked up at him with a frown.
“You’re five minutes early,” Yoongi called. He was sitting at a table, sort of squished to the back, with Jungkook and Hoseok. “Did you mix up the time?”
Namjoon opened his mouth to argue that no, he was very on top of things, actually, but then dimly remembered that Jungkook might have said 10:15 instead of 10:05. “Possibly.”
“You’re so smart,” Jungkook said wondrously, “but so fucking stupid.”
“I missed when you had a crush on me,” Namjoon sighed, taking a seat and accepting the coffee that Yoongi had bought for him (he owed him one for that). “Remember when you just looked at me starry-eyed and didn’t say shit? What happened to those days?”
“I’ve moved on, hyung,” Jungkook replied, a far away look in his eyes. “I’m ready to annoy you at every possible moment now.”
“I hope you treat your new friends just as horribly,” Hoseok said petulantly.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Jungkook said emphatically. “I think Jin’s gonna one step away from committing homicide.”
“So there’s Jin--” Yoongi started.
“--and Jimin and Taehyung,” Jungkook supplied. “If you aren’t friends with them, I will flay you alive,” he added, waving a donut in a vaguely threatening manner. “I love them and I love you and I need you all to love each other.”
“I think I know a Park Jimin,” Hoseok mused, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. “Does he come by the dance studio sometimes?’
“Yeah!” Jungkook said excitedly and--okay, Namjoon might have been dragged out here, but that was cute. “He’s so cool, honestly.”
“Not as cool as us though, right?” Yoongi asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jungkook’s eyes crinkled. “Of course not,” he said smoothly. “You’re like--the og hyungs.”
“That’s horrible,” Yoongi said, obviously extremely in love with it. “Never call us that again, ever.”
The door to the coffee shop creaked open and Jungkook whipped around so fast, Namjoon was worried he’d break his neck. Following Jungkook’s gaze, however, he saw a strikingly beautiful man enter, looking around a little lost. Namjoon recognized him as Taehyung, the model whom Jungkook showed off photoshoots of.
“There they are!” Jungkook sat up, waving Taehyung over as he entered. Another guy, smaller and lithe, was walking close by Taehyung’s side, smiling at the sight of the four. “Y’all are gonna love them.”
Namjoon nodded at the two amicably as they made their way towards the table. But his attention was torn away from the pair when the door clattered open loudly and another person stepped in, breathless. He was flushed a little, like he had just run here, and his hair tousled artfully, a faint smile played on his lips.
Namjoon’s blood went cold.
He tugged Jungkook down by the elbow, ignoring his surprised yelp. “Jungkook,” he hissed. “Who else did you say was coming with Jimin and Taehyung?”
“Jin.” Jungkook grinned at the man in question--him--as he answered. “Seokjin’s his full name. He’s so pretty, Namjoon, isn’t he pretty?”
“Yeah,” Namjoon said dimly, but his mind was racing a million miles an hour because Seokjin was here and he wasn’t supposed to be here, and, god, if he was here where could Namjoon run?
“You should’ve waited for me,” Seokjin was complaining, coming to Taehyung’s side.His voice was still the same, smooth and lilting and Namjoon wanted to throw up. “I was about to--” His voice stopped abruptly, like it got caught in his throat, and his eyes fell on Namjoon. Dark and deep, yet soft around the edges. They were still the same.
Namjoon felt like he’d been sucker punched--the air leaving his lungs swiftly, painfully. He hadn’t felt like this--oh god, he hadn’t felt like this since college, when Seokjin left him.
“Hey guys,” Jungkook chirped. “This is Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon.” He pointed to each in succession.
“This is Jimin,” Taehyung said, tugging Jimin forward by the arm. “And over there--” He pointed to the right, and Namjoon forced his eyes to follow the motion, “is Seokjin.”
Seokjin looked like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and face paled. Namjoon must look the same, but despite all of this dread and anxiety threatening to bubble over in his stomach, it...felt good to see Seokjin. He looked good. Namjoon...Namjoon still missed him.
Seokjin was always the better actor, and it was scary how easily he slipped into a smile and held out his hand. “Kim Seokjin.” Despite the smile, there was a hardness in his eyes, an underlying warning. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Namjoon took Seokjin’s hand, the sensation feeling familiar but so alien at the same time. He opened his mouth, throat feeling tight. “Kim Namjoon. Likewise.” They dropped hands. The air felt too heavy.
Hoseok, blissfully unaware that Namjoon’s life was crashing down around him, waved at Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jimin cheerfully. “Hey! It’s nice to meet you!”
Namjoon was only half-conscious of shaking Taehyung’s hand and accepting Jimin’s hug, too hyperaware of Seokjin so close by. It had been three years. He would be lying if he had said his mind hadn’t dissected every possible way they could meet again but this seemed so...anticlimactic. Like the author of his life’s story had meticulously created this huge buildup only to end like...this.
Seokjin didn’t glance at him when he sat down. He didn’t spare him a look as Jungkook eagerly detailed how they all met. Seokjin’s eyes flickered over him, once, when Namjoon mentioned the song he had been writing, then looked down hard at the table, with a very weak not-smile playing on his lips.
That hurt more than any words could have.
Jimin and Taehyung were the distraction that Namjoon gratefully latched onto, as the conversation moved away from introductions to small talk to sharing stories of the past. Already, he understood how easily they became friends with Jungkook--the two seemed magnetic in their charm. Namjoon was never good at making friends easily, but the way Jimin described his college experiences made him laugh inadvertently.
“Seokjin rarely talks about his time in college,” Jimin laughed. “I’m starting to wonder what went on.”
“I’ll tell you when you grow up,” Seokjin said airily, ignoring Jimin when he pointed out we’re pretty close in age, y’know. Namjoon tightened his grip on his coffee cup. He knew exactly what went on during Seokjin’s time in college--three years of friendship and dating between them, the best years of Namjoon’s life.
“Namjoon,” Hoseok murmured to him, annoyingly receptive. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“What? No, I’m--” Seokjin lifted his head and, for a fraction of a second, looked at him. “I’m okay, really.”
Hoseok patted him on the back, reprimanded him to wear warmer clothing, and the conversation changed once more.
Perhaps he could’ve said something in that moment. Perhaps he could have played it off as a joke, like hey, funny story, I used to date that guy sitting across from me! And maybe they could’ve have laughed this one off, and life would move on.
Except life hadn’t moved on, at least not for Namjoon. Three years, and he was still trying to pry back his heart from the hands that had ripped it out.
After another fifteen excruciating minutes of forced smiles and stolen looks, Taehyung eventually mentioned how he had a shoot to get ready for, and the seven of them piled out of the coffee shop to wish each other goodbye.
They trickled off in groups: Hoseok trailing behind Yoongi, Jimin tugging Taehyung along, who was in turn tugging Jungkook. Namjoon made to go follow them, but Seokjin shot Namjoon a look, so he instead pretended to fiddle with his phone until the very last of Jungkook’s sneakers disappeared around the corner.
And then it was just them.
“Sorry if I’m keeping you,” Seokjin said softly. “I just wanted to--” He shifted. “It’s...good to see you again.”
“Yeah,” Namjoon mumbled, opting to stare down at the ice-crusted pavement rather than look Seokjin directly in the eye. “Did you get into acting?”
“I did.” There was a smile in Seokjin’s voice. “It’s going good, actually. How was America? You spent your last year there, right?”
“It was great.” I had five mental breakdowns over our breakup. “I learned a lot in that time.” I still couldn’t stop thinking of you.
“That’s good,” Seokjin said. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and fell silent. “Listen.” Seokjin sucked in a breath. “I know that Jimin’s gonna grill the shit out of me if he finds out we dated--” his voice caught on the word-- “so if you could just keep this on the downlow, that would be…”
“Yeah, I feel the same.” Namjoon rocked back and forth on his heels nervously. He was even more gorgeous than Namjoon had remembered. That wasn't fair. How was any of this fair?
Seokjin bit his lip. It was a small habit he had when he was anxious, and Namjoon hated himself for forgetting such a detail. “I hope we can become friends again,” he said softly. “I’ve missed you.”
Namjoon pushed down all those words he wanted to say (Why did you break up with me? Why have you never contacted me? How can you just act so normal?), but he gave a sharp nod. “Me too,” he muttered, and if the words got stuck halfway in his throat, well, Seokjin didn't comment.
It would have been foolish hoping that Namjoon could avoid Seokjin forever. The universe had blessed him with three Seokjin-free years, and now karma was kicking in. He was inescapable.
Yoongi and Hoseok had become fast friends with Seokjin, dubbing him part of what they called “the hyung line”. They frequently hung out together, so Namjoon started making up flimsy excuses to avoid going and hoped that no one grew suspicious.
This isn’t lying, he told himself. This is survival.
Lying or not, it was bound to become obvious that Namjoon was avoiding Seokjin, which would lead to questions Namjoon most definitely did not want to face. But, for now, avoidance was enough to keep his already fragile heart from shattering any more.
“Are you three doing anything tonight?” Jungkook looked up eagerly, paintbrush poised in midair. He, Hoseok, and Yoongi were idly hanging out at Jungkook’s apartment, as the artist in question languidly watercolored the wintry afternoon.
“Jimin invited us over,” Jungkook continued. “I was wondering if you’d like to come.”
“I’m not sure,” Yoongi said dubiously. “What time is it?”
“Sounds great!” Hoseok declared, “I’m in!” and Yoongi sighed. Namjoon cracked a grin. Wherever Hoseok went, Yoongi was sure to follow, and vice versa.
“Namjoon?” Jungkook asked, raising his eyebrows hopefully. “You in? Taehyung’s gonna be there too. And Seokjin.”
“Seokjin,” Namjoon repeated, that crippling sense of dread creeping in.
“Yeah.” Jungkook frowned. “Is that okay?” More concernedly, “Do you have a problem with him?”
“I don’t have a problem, it’s just uh--” Namjoon floundered for words. “I didn’t get to talk to him that much, that’s all,” he finished lamely.
“Aw, don’t worry about that,” Jungkook said, patting his thigh in what he probably thought was reassuring. It did not reassure Namjoon in the slightest. “Jin’s really sociable, you’ll be friends in no time! He’s like a magnet.”
Don’t I know that too well, Namjoon thought despairingly, but on the outside, he forced a smile. “Sounds great then.”
And now he was here, standing outside the door of Jimin’s apartment, and wondering if he should just turn back now. He took a breath and rang the doorbell, praying that it wasn’t Seokjin who opened the door.
Jungkook’s face greeted him when the door swung open. His eyes were alit with happiness as he pulled Namjoon inside. “Glad you could make it, hyung,” he gushed. “I was worried you couldn’t come.”
Namjoon internally winced, hoping Jungkook would never find out he was contemplating turning back. “‘Course I can make time for you,” he chose to say instead, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook squeaked and ducked away, and Namjoon took that time to take in Jimin’s apartment.
He had actually never been inside it before. Looking around, the apartment was so strikingly Jimin that he couldn’t imagine what else he’d expect. It was small, but cozy. Little polaroid photos were strung up alongside fairy lights around the walls. And, of course, standing in the middle was Jimin himself, who looked up and immediately beamed. That was the best part about Jimin--he had a talent of making anyone welcome, anywhere.
“Good to see you, Joon!” Jimin waved at him as enthusiastically as he could, given the fact he was struggling to save a falling string of lights. “Make yourself at home! The kitchen’s a mess because Seokjin and Yoongi are figuring out dinner.”
Namjoon glanced over to the kitchen in question, where Yoongi and Seokjin were clustered around the stove. Seokjin went a little tense at the sight of Namjoon, fingers anxiously curling over a ladle. Namjoon caught his eye, and Seokjin turned quickly to make small talk with Yoongi.
So we’re ignoring each other even now, he thought, bitter. I thought he wanted to be friends.
Instead, he headed over the couch, sliding onto a seat next to Hoseok and Taehyung. Taehyung brightened up at the sight of him. “Hey, Namjoon. You arrived at a good time. I think Jimin’s one step away from committing homicide with those lights and Seokjin and Yoongi are arguing over jjigae recipes.”
“I don’t think Yoongi’s used to having another competent cook with him,” Hoseok commented. “Is Seokjin good, then?”
He is, actually, Namjoon wanted to say, and I’ve been missing his food for three years.
“Yeah,” Taehyung replied for him. “I can’t cook for shit, so Seokjin likes to feed me before my wallet goes dry from ordering out.” He flashed a smile. “Or burning down my kitchen, for that matter.”
“That’s like Namjoon.” Hoseok nudged Namjoon. “He’s a disaster at cooking. Jungkook and I are decent, Yoongi’s pretty good--a control freak when it comes to grilling meat, though--but Namjoon here couldn’t fry an egg if his life depended on it.”
“I can fry an egg,” Namjoon argued.
Hoseok waved his hand. “Whatever. Your knife skills have a lot to be desired for.”
Taehyung laughed. “Seokjin would tell us about the time he tried to make japchae with his roommate in college,” he reminisced. “Apparently he couldn’t even cut an onion.”
Hoseok snapped his fingers. “That’s exactly Namjoon.”
“Funny,” Namjoon said hollowly. He could feel Seokjin’s fingers on his now, guiding the knife in a steady motion. “Sounds like they were friends.”
Taehyung shrugged. “Maybe. He doesn’t talk about him a lot, so not anymore anyways.”
That was fair. It wasn’t like Namjoon ever attempted to talk about Seokjin, either.
Taehyung chewed on his lip. “Jin never really talks about what happened in college. I don’t know, I think something happened back there..”
Namjoon opened his mouth to ask more, but then Jimin and Jungkook crashed on the couch beside them, and the subject changed and the moment was lost. Perhaps it was better to dash any hopes he had.
(Not that he had them. Just. Figure of speech.)
Although Seokjin’s presence was a constant distraction, the chatter of the other four were enough to keep him distracted. When dinner was ready, he was almost comfortable hearing Seokjin's voice again. Almost.
There wasn’t enough room for all seven of them to fit at Jimin’s table, so they took to the living room. Namjoon found himself sitting cross-legged on the floor as Yoongi passed out steaming bowls of rice. Seokjin set the jjigae in the middle of them, still bubbling from where it was taken off the stove. Namjoon had to bite back a laugh when Jungkook’s spoon immediately shot out to serve himself. Dinner with the seven of them was a free-for-all.
"Namjoon, let me serve you." Namjoon started at the sound of Seokjin's hesitant voice and turned to meet him, eyes wide. His arms moved automatically to hand Seokjin his rice bowl and Seokjin filled it with jjigae.
There was a faint amusement in Seokjin's eyes as he handed the bowl back, perhaps at Namjoon's shock or the irony of this entire situation. And yet, he looked nervous. Like Namjoon's opinion still mattered to him.
Namjoon tentatively took a sip, mouth curving upwards at the flavor. It tasted salty and spicy, and of their old rickety dorm they shared together. He hadn't realized how much he missed this.
“How is it?” Seokjin asked. He posed the question towards the group, but his gaze was on Namjoon.
“You’re the best.” Jimin stuck a spoonful in his mouth, smiling lopsidedly at Seokjin.
“It’s good, hyung,” Namjoon said softly. “Brings back nice memories.”
Seokjin’s mouth flickered in the ghost of a smile, and suddenly, this entire evening was worth it.
After dinner, dishes were discarded in the sink (that was someone else’s problem) and bottles of soju were passed out, along with the obligatory jokes on Taehyung’s low tolerance and Jimin’s worryingly high one. Jungkook struck up a Mario Kart tournament with the devious grin of a man who was ready to forfeit all his friendships for one green shell.
(Namjoon was careful not to compete against Seokjin. If he remembered anything from their college days, it was that he was a monster with a console in his hands).
Being with all of them was...fun. It was really fun, honestly, and Namjoon was starting to wonder how he’d ever had a friend group with just Hoseok, Yoongi, and Jungkook. Conversation fell so easily with them, to the point where Namjoon hadn’t even realized he had been talking to Jimin for twenty minutes straight about music production.
Eventually, Namjoon found himself leaning back and letting the other six’s bickering wash over them. Work had been long today and socializing was sapping up the last remnants of energy he had left.
From the corner of his eye, he was dimly aware of Seokjin stretching after had decimated Hoseok again and handing off his console to an eager Taehyung. Then he was walking closer and sliding into the seat next to Namjoon, legs crossed in a way that was achingly familiar.
“Hey.” A soft voice. Careful. College, first year, when a strikingly beautiful boy sat next to him in his calc class.
Namjoon’s eyes darted over Seokjin’s body, then back up to his face. “Hey.”
“So, uh.” Seokjin gestured vaguely with his bottle. “Fucking balls of chaos, huh?”
“Oh god,” Namjoon said, latching onto the topic as if it were a lifeline. “You have no idea. And you think Yoongi’s the only sane one, but he’s just as bad as everyone else.”
Seokjin stifled a laugh. “Oh, god. But then again, you and I aren’t any better.”
Namjoon looked at him, offended. “I like to think that I’m a bit level headed.”
“College, third year,” Seokjin countered. “I jokingly dared you to jump out the second floor window and you fucking did it.”
“That was a long time ago!” Namjoon protested. “I was young and you bribed me with free ramen and I would...probably do it again now.”
“Wow,” Seokjin said, shaking his head. “I forgot how wild those days were.”
Namjoon nodded. “Those days, they were--they were good.”
Seokjin fell quiet. “Listen, Joon,” he murmured. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to be friends. That wasn’t--that wasn’t me trying to be the better person. I really did miss you. It’s just been...”
“Awkward?” Namjoon supplied.
“Awkward,” Seokjin conceded. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I guess what I’m saying is that I haven’t been making an effort, but I’m willing to.” His eyes were shining a little, and Namjoon had forgotten how much he loved to lose himself in those eyes, for hours on end. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot last time, so--”
He stuck out his hand. “Kim Seokjin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The pain in his chest was lessening--no longer a gaping wound, but perhaps a slow, steady ache. Namjoon took his hand. “Kim Namjoon. The pleasure is all mine.”
Seokjin smiled tentatively at him and Namjoon grinned back.
After that, falling back with Seokjin came like a rush of water.
They still never hung out one on one, but being near his presence was becoming more bearable. Namjoon could reply to a Seokjin’s text without stressing about it for ten minutes. Sometimes they’d even go shopping together with Jungkook as a buffer.
(It still hurt to look at him, sometimes. But he was Icarus, and Seokjin the sun, and he was willing to fly higher and higher, despite how much it burned.)
Today, Taehyung had promptly organized a movie outing for them--some indie movie that Namjoon had never heard of. Regardless, everyone was free, and Namjoon wasn’t about to pass up a rare moment where all of them could hang out.
He was running a little late, but luckily, ever since befriending Jimin, he was never the latest one anymore. Despite this, when he arrived at the theater, he found the outside empty of anyone but Seokjin, who was leaning against a wall and sort of staring into space.
“Hi,” Namjoon said slowly, coming to stand next to him. “Where are everyone else?”
Seokjin started at the sight of him, then shrugged. “No idea. I’ve been waiting for ten minutes now.” He took out his phone. “I’ll text them in the groupchat now.”
Seokjin: namjoon and i are here, where is everyone else?
Jungkook: something came up….
Hoseok:im working with yoon on a song, cant make it :(
Taehyung: neither can jimin and i oops
Jimin: oh no...i guess u and namjoon will have to be alone….in a dark theater….together….
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Namjoon observed.
“Well,” Seokjin said, a little awkwardly. “I guess we’re the only ones left.”
Namjoon looked up at the theatre. He wasn’t quite hell-bent on watching this movie, nor did he particularly feel like sitting inside a dark theater for two hours. “Wanna go to the aquarium?”
“The aquarium. I haven’t gone there since--” Seokjin’s mouth tightened. “I haven’t gone in a while,” he finished lamely.
“Let’s go,” Namjoon decided. “I have a membership card.”
Seokjin laughed. “Of course you do. Are you really going to drag me to see fish?”
“Got anything better to do?” Namjoon challenged him.
Seokjin hesitated for a moment, and then he sighed. “Fine. But I’m not holding a crab.”
The aquarium had been a popular date spot for them. It really wasn’t Namjoon who arranged most of the visits; Seokjin liked to surprise him, despite his own lack of interest for sea life. Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if taking his ex here was against some sort of ex code, but, hey, he was just in the mood to see some fish.
Seokjin was looking around the aquarium with wide eyes when they entered. “This is big,” he said, impressed. “I’m surprised you haven’t busted a nut yet.”
“Please stop talking,” Namjoon said mildly, making an immediate beeline for a large tank. Seokjin followed after him. It was fairly empty at this time of year, and Namjoon was content to stare into the depths of the water, letting the blue light wash over him.
“An octopus?” Seokjin leaned in closer to take a look. His face scrunched up at the sight of curling tentacles sticking to the glass.
“Look at her,” Namjoon cooed. The octopus seemed to wave a tentacle at him in response. “You know, they can’t allow female octopi to mate with males in captivity because they end up killing them.”
“Huh. Perhaps our society would be better off like that,” Seokjin mused.
“Undoubtedly.” Namjoon watched the octopus for a minute more before looking to Seokjin. “Any preference where we go next?”
“Lead the way.” Seokjin gestured to him. “It’s what you always did.”
Namjoon huffed out a laugh. “I still have no idea how you put up with me whenever I was here.” He slowed down to stare at some tropical fish darting around a coral reef. Last time he was with Seokjin at a tank like this, he ended lecturing strangers on ocean acidification while Seokjin made (several) coffee runs. “I must have bored you to death.”
Seokjin gave a little shrug. “It was nice. You’re cute when you get excited over things like this.” He flushed a little. “I mean, I didn’t mind.”
“Let’s start with the crabs,” Namjoon declared and Seokjin groaned.
“Seokjin,” Namjoon was saying, “I know you call my children sea pancakes--”
Seokjin was eyeing the stingray touch tank with an air of distrust. “You couldn’t get me to touch one then and I’m not gonna start now,” he retorted.
“Seokjin.” Namjoon tried to put on his best puppy-eyes. They had worked back then, after all. “Please? It’ll be fun.”
Seokjin sighed. “I’ll stand next to you. But I’m not putting my hands anywhere near the water.”
“You’re no fun.” Namjoon automatically looped their hands together to tug Seokjin along, then froze. “Um.”
“Well, get going,” Seokjin said impatiently, shaking their joined hands. “I don’t want to be in this room any longer than I need to.”
Namjoon rolled his eyes, then bounded up to the tank with an eagerness of a five year old. It was a long, shallow pool where large stingrays serenely swam around, bobbing up and down like a bird riding the wind. “They’re all gorgeous,” Namjoon said in awe, immediately sticking his hand in the water. Seokjin grimaced.
“These things,” Seokjin gestured, “should not be found in nature.”
Namjoon petted a stingray and glared at Seokjin, before turning back to smile lovingly at them. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of what?” Seokjin choked out. “Of being a floating pancake in the ocean that does nothing but eat?” A pause. “Wait, they actually have a good gig going on.”
“You should try to touch one,” Namjoon implored him.
One of the stingrays pressed up against the wall, splashing water. Seokjin screamed and jumped back. A mother with her son shot him a dirty look.
“It’s coming to kill me.” Seokjin scrambled to hold onto Namjoon’s shirt. “Why the fuck are they shaped like that, it’s fucking demonic.”
“They’re gorgeous,” Namjoon said adoringly. He stroked one as it passed him. “They wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Seokjin peeped out from where he was hiding behind Namjoon’s shoulder. “If they electrocute you, I’m gonna laugh at your funeral.”
Namjoon gently untangled Seokjin’s fingers from where they were white knuckling his sleeve. “Do you trust me?”
“No,” Seokjin said immediately, but let Namjoon guide his hand to the tank anyway.
This is what could have happened: Seokjin’s hands in Namjoon’s, his touch causing a current of electricity to streak down his arm and into his heart, and then maybe--maybe--they would look at each other and think, this isn’t broken yet.
This is what did happen: A stingray brushed Seokjin’s hand, Seokjin let out a scream of expletives in front of very small children, and an aquarium worker gently escorted them out of the building while they both desperately tried to remain composure.
“You fucker,” Namjoon gasped as they stumbled out of the aquarium together. “They’re never gonna let me back in.”
“Sorry,” Seokjin wheezed. “Sorry, but the look on that mom’s face--” He shook his head. “I probably just traumatized ten kids.”
“It was inevitable,” Namjoon said solemnly. “I should’ve known the moment you asked about electrocution.”
“This,” Seokjin replied primly, reaching up to fix his hair, “is precisely why I refused to touch them all those times.”
The sun was setting over the Han River, making Namjoon long for the salty air of the beach. “It’s so beautiful,” Namjoon murmured, pausing in his steps. "It looks like the sun is sinking into the sea."
Seokjin was looking at him with a strange light in his eye, oddly vulnerable and soft. Then he bumped his shoulder with Namjoon. "Looks like an egg yolk," he decided and turned away, "Let’s go find a place for dinner, I’m hungry."
As he caught up to Seokjin, Namjoon couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him because he had missed his.
Hoseok: did it work
Hoseok: are yall together now
Namjoon: what..what does that mean
Jimin: WE DITCHED SO YOUD HAVE A MOVIE DATE
“Oh my god.” Namjoon stared down at his phone in horror from where he was lying on his bed, propped up against a pillow. “Ohmygodohmygod.”
Namjoon: WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEANJungkook: you and jin are my new otp. Im thinking a spring wedding?
Namjoon: WHAT THE FUCK??????
Taehyung: just give jin hyung a chance :(((
“I did give Jin a chance,” Namjoon said to his phone, in disbelief, “and he fucking broke up with me.”
Namjoon: we’re just FRIENDS okay?
Yoongi: and how was the movie :))))
Namjoon: we didnt even watch it
Namjoon: we went to the aquarium
Hoseok: YESSSSS THATS LIKE SECOND BASE FOR U
Namjoon: im turning off my phone now
Jungkook: dont deny the sparks~
Namjoon: my phone is off i cant hear u sorry
He sighed and threw down his phone on the bedside table. It buzzed again and he groaned, but when he checked the notification, it was Seokjin’s name that winked back at him. He grinned despite himself, immediately opening the message to respond.
Seokjin: hey
Seokjin: today was fun
Seokjin: maybe we can do this again sometime
Namjoon: id like that...
Seokjin: but maybe without the stingrays
Namjoon: ok well hold on now-
Namjoon was starting to notice that the Seokjin in front of him was not the Seokjin he had left. It wasn't like he was a completely new person--no, a three year change was more subtle than that. It was in the little things.
It was in Seokjin telling more and more of those dumb puns he had secretly always liked, in him boasting about his good looks just to get a laugh out of Jungkook, in him confidently blowing kisses to strangers on the street. He was more comfortable in his skin: brighter and happier. It was probably due to natural growth and the escape of college stress, but Namjoon couldn't help but wonder if their break-up benefited Seokjin more than it had hurt.
And, in turn, Namjoon supposed he had changed as well. It was hard to catalog these changes himself, but he wondered what Seokjin saw, and whether or not he missed the Namjoon he used to be, or preferred the one now.
Namjoon loved the Seokjin he once knew. And he was falling, slowly and steadily, for the Seokjin he was relearning now.
(Despite the sleepless nights he spent after discovering such a revelation, Namjoon was okay with it, really. Pining after Seokjin had been done before, and he could tough through it again. As long as he kept it bottled up, everything should be fine, and he’d get over it soon.)
But here they were now: Seokjin at his doorway, a little pink from the cold, worrying his lip between his teeth, and Namjoon wanting nothing more than to kiss him until his worry lines smoothed out, just wanting wanting wanting.
Seokjin cleared his throat and Namjoon snapped attention, realizing he had been caught staring. "I'm just here to pick up my coat, I accidentally left it last time we all hung out here. I'll be out of your skin soon."
“Oh, uh, yeah. No problem.” Namjoon stepped back to let Seokjin enter. “It’s probably still on the coat rack.” He nodded over to the rack in question, with coats practically piled onto it. “Jungkook has a habit of dumping forgotten clothing on it, so I don’t really use it.”
Seokjin smiled wryly, sifting through the various jackets and coats. “You’re the one who lets him.”
Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “And what would you do?”
“Dump them out the window, naturally,” Seokjin replied smoothly, sounding remarkably like Yoongi. “Aha, here it is!” He triumphantly tugged a coat loose, holding it up with an air of satisfaction.
It was a nice light blue, long coat, that looked remarkably like one Namjoon used to own. That hole near the cuff was familiar, and so was that stitched over patch of red cloth and--
“That’s my coat,” Namjoon said dumbly.
Seokjin frowned, turning it over. “I’m pretty sure it’s mine.”
Namjoon shook his head. “I thought I lost that one in college. It’s got the same patch on the cuffs that my sister stitched on.”
Seokjin stared at the coat a minute more. “Did I seriously steal this from you?” He smacked his forehead. “Oh my god. I stole so much of your clothing that I forgot to return this one.”
Namjoon eyed him suspiciously. “I think I’m gonna have to go through my closet because there’s this sweater I can’t seem to find…”
“I can’t help it if I look good anything,” Seokjin pouted. “It’s your own fault for choosing a boyfriend who was around your size.”
“I didn’t choose to date you, you accosted me,” Namjoon shot back, but he was smiling.
Seokjin laughed. “That makes our relationship sound so toxic, you know I loved--” He swallowed, any traces of mirth gone. “You know what I mean." He gripped the coat. "I should get going.”
Namjoon caught his arm, then let go of it quickly when Seokjin looked up at him with wide eyes. “It’s late and there’s a blizzard warning,” he hurried to explain. “It’s not safe to go out.”
Seokjin glanced out at the flurries of snowflakes falling steadily downward. “I should be fine.” The uncertainty in his voice betrayed him.
“Seokjin,” Namjoon said, a little exasperated. “Stay. I have a pull-out couch. It’s no big deal.”
Seokjin chewed his lip. “I don’t want to intrude…”
Namjoon rolled his eyes. “You can make me dinner as payment.”
At that, Seokjin relaxed, allowing Namjoon to pry his coat out of his hands and hang it up. “Well. If I can do that for you, then…” He clapped his hands. “Then I’ll get started right away. Did you go grocery shopping recently?”
“Uh…” Was that a scheduled thing adults did?
“Namjoon, please don’t make me scared to look in your fridge,” Seokjin sighed. “You have vegetables, right?”
His phone saved him, blaring some Twice song at high-volume and Namjoon winced, reaching to take care of it. “It was Jungkook who set it,” he added defensively, when Seokjin looked at him with barely-concealed amusement.
“Sure,” Seokjin said. “I’ll be in the kitchen. You take care of that.”
Namjoon watched him leave, then glanced down at the screen. Jimin’s contact photo was popped up, a cute image of him laughing with a flower crown Taehyung had put on him. Namjoon cleared his throat and accepted the call. “Everything okay, Jimin?”
“Do you know where Jin is?” Jimin sounded frantic. “He said he was going to your place, but it’s snowing really badly and I don’t think it’s safe for him to walk back and--”
“He’s with me,” Namjoon interrupted. “I made him stay the night. Don’t worry.”
Jimin exhaled. “Good. Sorry. I got worked up over nothing.”
“You were just worried,” Namjoon said gently. Sometimes Jimin felt insecure with how much he cared for the others--which was ridiculous, that was Jimin’s best trait--so Namjoon was always looking for ways to reassure him that feeling too much was never a bad thing.
“Yeah. Sorry. I was.” A pause. “How’d you get him to stay? Seokjin’s so stubborn about those things.”
“I just told him to make me dinner,” Namjoon replied. “It makes him feel better when he knows there’s something quantifiable for him to do in return.”
“I…” Jimin trailed off. “I never knew that.”
“I used to have a friend like him,” Namjoon invented swiftly. “I’m good at. Uh. Recognizing things like that?”
“Namjoon!” Namjoon jumped at Seokjin’s yell from the kitchen. “You have nothing to eat in this house! Do you survive on air?”
“That’s him,” Namjoon said to Jimin, who stifled a giggle. “I gotta go, stay safe, okay?
“Don’t worry,” Jimin assured him. “The maknaes are hunkering down together.”
Namjoon blinked. “All three of you? I thought Taehyung and Jungkook were on a date.”
“They said they didn’t want to watch the movie without me.” Jimin’s voice was small.
“Ah. Okay.” Namjoon didn’t bother pushing. He was in no position to pry--his love was just as--if not more--fucked up. “Have fun with them, okay?”
“I will.” The warmth in his tone was back. “You too.” And then: “Joonie...do you have a spare bedroom?”
Namjoon furrowed his brow. “No, why?”
“Perfect. Perfect. I'll talk to you later, Joon! Don’t forget to use protection!”
“Don’t forget--” Jimin hung up, and Namjoon was left holding a silent phone to his ear. Namjoon stared at it a minute more. Protection? What would they need protection from?
Unless.
Oh god.
“Namjoon!” Seokjin was bounding towards him, impatiently. “Are you done talking to Jimin?” He frowned, tilting his head. “Are you okay? You’re a little red.” He pressed a hand to Namjoon’s forehead. “Are you sick?”
Namjoon batted the hand away, flustered. “I’m fine, hyung, what did you need?”
Seokjin eyed him suspiciously, but dropped his hand nonetheless. “All I can find for a suitable meal is ramen. Really, Joonie? I thought we left that behind in college.”
“I can’t believe your superiority complex comes from you not needing a daily dose of MSG,” Namjoon sighed. “You’ve changed, hyung.”
“Yes, well,” Seokjin said modestly. “Fame does that to a person.”
“Fame?”
“I got three likes on a tweet, Joon, keep up.” Seokjin’s fingers curled over Namjoon’s wrist. “It’s a new record.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Seokjin shot him a finger gun with his free hand. “But you already knew that, right?” Before Namjoon could answer, Seokjin yanked on Namjoon’s hand and he stumbled forward. “Help me with dinner?”
Seokjin’s touch was almost unbearable, each pad of his finger burning a hole into Namjoon’s wrist. “It’s instant ramen, how much help can I be?”
“Fine, fine,” Seokjin conceded. “I’ll make the ramen, and you sit on the counter and keep me distracted. Is that good?”
“Yeah.” Namjoon didn’t mean to sound a little breathy, but he did anyway. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
It took them exactly thirty-two minutes to make instant ramen. There was an argument over whether to add the flavor packet before or after the noodles, and then the stove wasn’t actually turned on, and, well...they got there eventually.
Seokjin set the pot down on the table and stepped back to admire his handiwork. “This,” he said, “took entirely too long.” He tossed a pair of chopsticks at Namjoon, who scrambled to catch it. “Dig in.”
Silence fell as they served themselves, Namjoon sneaking glances at Seokjin every so often. Even now, with messy hair and tired eyes, he was a sight to be cherished. Sitting and eating together was so painfully domestic and Namjoon didn’t want to let a single moment escape his grasp.
Seokjin was quiet, chewing contemplatively. Then he looked at Namjoon casually and asked, “So does a hotdog classify as a sandwich or a taco?”
Namjoon set his chopsticks down, mildly horrified. Screw domesticity. “Sandwich. Clearly a sandwich. There’s no debate."
Seokjin tapped his chin. ̈ ̈No, no, no. Think about. A taco and hot dog have, in essence, the same fundamental idea of a singular piece of bread wrapped around filling.”
“We’re not having this conversation,” Namjoon said adamantly. “It’s a sandwich, it doesn’t even make sense for it to be a taco.”
Seokjin frowned at him. “You’re getting awfully brave for someone who thinks cereal is a soup.”
Namjoon threw up his hands, nearly knocking over his cup. “Because it is! It’s just! Cold soup!”
“Cereal is a separate entity on its own and you know it.”
Namjoon crossed his arms. “So are hot dogs.”
Seokjin opened his mouth, closed it, and tilted his head. “Okay, okay. We might be onto something here.”
“I’ll take that,” Namjoon conceded. “But just because you’re not ready for the discussion that hot chocolate with marshmallows is also soup?”
“Oh my god.” Seokjin choked ungracefully on a noodle. “Namjoon, you can’t just say things like that.”
“You’re the one started it!” Namjoon defended himself, but he was grinning. Seokjin was giggling into his ramen bowl, eyes a little watery, and it felt good, it felt safe, it felt like normal.
Why did you stop this? Their laughter died down and his thoughts, prickly and intrusive, started to rise up again. Why couldn’t we have this? What did I do wrong?
Turning his gaze back down to his bowl--away from Seokjin’s eyes, before he could break resolve, he started, “Seokjin, I’ve wanted to ask you something…”
“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asked and Namjoon made the mistake of looking up and seeing the remnants of laughter in Seokjin’s eyes and no, he couldn’t let this moment go.
So what came out of his instead mouth was: “So, what’s the deal with Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook?”
Seokjin blinked. “What do you mean? Taehyung and Jungkook are dating.”
Namjoon prodded his noodles with his chopsticks. “I know but...they’re really close with Jimin.”
Seokjin chewed thoughtfully. “I never considered that...I know Jimin had a crush on Taehyung in college but...” He shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out. Jungkook doesn’t like messes.”
That much was true. Jungkook wasn’t afraid of confrontation, unlike the two of them, who had skirted around most of their problems. Hey, maybe that was why their relationship crumbled.
Namjoon was going to drive himself insane with this guessing game.
Seokjin hesitated, looking at Namjoon carefully. “I like being your friend, Namjoon,” he said, a bit stiltedly. “I know in the past I left a lot of loose strings and I’m glad I have a chance to tie them.”
“Yeah?” Namjoon’s chest felt too tight.
“Yeah.” Seokjin shifted. “I just want to make it clear that what happened between us...It's in the past, okay?” He bit his lip. "I actually wanted--" He cut himself off abruptly. "Oh, fuck, is now really the time?" Namjoon drew his eyes away to see that Seokjin’s phone had lit up (it was on silent, his phone was always on silent) and Seokjin scrambled to pick it up. His face went white at the sight of the screen screen.
“I have to take this.” The chair scraped back loudly as Seokjin stood up. “Can I just…?”
Forcing down disappointment, Namjoon gestured to the bedroom. “Go ahead, hyung, I’ll take care of the dishes.” After Seokjin had left, he let out a breath and stood up to gather the bowls.
There he was, getting his hopes up again.
The sound of running water was loud, but not loud enough to completely drown out Seokjin’s voice. It was impossible to ignore when Seokjin’s voice began to rise and Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to listen.
Soon, the voices died down, and Namjoon turned off the tap. Leaning against the counter, he waited for Seokjin to emerge from the bedroom.
A minute passed, and then five. Concerned, Namjoon pushed himself off the counter and walked over to the bedroom. When he could hear no voices, Namjoon rapped on the door softly, nudging it open. "Everything ok?"
Seokjin was staring down hard at his phone, blinking rapidly. He jerked his head up when Namjoon stepped in. “Yeah. Just--" He gave a half shrug while trying to surreptitiously wipe his eyes. "My parents."
"Oh." Seokjin and his parents had a rocky relationship. They loved each other, Namjoon knew that, but they could be--strict. They could say the harshest things to Seokjin under stress, and Seokjin’s skin had toughened over the years, but it could still be...too much. “Are they still…?”
“Yeah.” Seokjin stared stonily outside and Namjoon fidgeted uncomfortably, fighting down the urge to wrap him in a hug. Before, it was so easy to comfort him, to say the words he knew Seokjin wanted to hear but now...boundaries were like tripwires, waiting to go off.
“They just.” Seokjin sighed. “They want to control me so tightly. I’m an adult, I can make decisions for myself.” He took in a shuddering breath. “Usually, I’m used to it, but it--it builds up.”
“Seokjin…” Namjoon reached out in an attempt at comfort or sympathy or something, but Seokjin stepped back quickly.
“I’m fine,” he said softly. “I’m just tired.”
“Of course.” Namjoon’s hand fell back to his side. “My couch has a pull-out bed, I can help you set up there.”
“Thanks,” Seokjin said quietly. Just like that, they were back to being exes--too scared to get closer, too greedy to move back.
“So, I’ll just--” Namjoon motioned awkwardly to the door. “I’ll get started on setting it up.”
“Give me a moment to clear my head,” Seokjin murmured.
Namjoon nodded in agreement--of course in agreement, he would give Seokjin the world if he could--and backed out of the room. Before he left, he looked back once to see Seokjin’s form standing by the window, silhouetted against the snowy night, and wondered when Seokjin had began to look so lonely.
It was too quiet.
The snow outside was silently falling, soft and fast. His room was perfectly still, except for the rise and fall of his chest as he lay in bed, eyes fixated on the ceiling. Kim Seokjin was in his house. Kim Seokjin was a room away. Kim Seokjin was sleeping right there.
Namjoon turned on his side, curling up. He couldn’t sleep.
His door slowly creaked open and Namjoon lifted his head up, squinting at the sudden disturbance. "Wh--" He blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness. “Jin?”
"Namjoon." The door closed quietly behind Seokjin as he slowly shuffled in. "Can I..." He trailed off.
Namjoon sat up, suddenly very awake. "Seokjin? What's wrong?"
"It's been a long day," Seokjin said quietly. "Could I just--" He walked forward and Namjoon's breath caught, audibly. Seokjin knelt by the side of the bed, fingers digging into the mattress. "I don't want to be alone," he whispered.
"Yeah." It came out cracked, and Namjoon coughed, answered again. "Yeah, come in here." He shifted over and Seokjin climbed into the bed. He looked so vulnerable like this, here in Namjoon's bed, tired and upset.
"Can I have this night?" Seokjin whispered. "Tomorrow we can pretend nothing happened but, just this one time, can I be greedy and have this?"
Namjoon automatically opened his arms and Seokjin nestled into him. They fit perfectly together, just as they had three years ago. It felt natural. "It won't leave this room," he promised.
"You're too good to me." Seokjin's eyes fluttered shut. "You've always been too good for me."
Namjoon hummed, resting one arm over Seokjin’s shoulder and the other under him, around his waist. Seokjin let out a soft sigh, burying his face into the crook of Namjoon’s neck.
“It’s been a long day, hyung,” he murmured, running his hands down Seokjin’s back rhythmically. Seokjin melted under his touch, sinking further into Namjoon’s arms. “Sleep now, okay?”
Seokjin’s weight was warm beside him and Namjoon found his eyes growing heavy. He could feel Seokjin’s heartbeat beside him, the rhythm constant and comforting, lulling him slowly to sleep.
It was the fastest he had fallen asleep in three years.
Namjoon woke up to soft singing.
He kept his eyes shut, listening to Seokjin's warm voice and feeling the dappled sunlight soak into his skin. If he tried hard enough, he could pretend they were in college all over again.
A slight touch on his head and--oh, Seokjin's fingers were running through his hair rhythmically, as Seokjin continued to sing. Namjoon tried to keep his breathing steady, faking sleep, but his heartbeat was so erratic, he was certain Seokjin would notice.
The sun was up, and Seokjin was acting like they were still together.
The singing tapered off and Seokjin huffed out a sigh. "Namjoon," he said, and Namjoon stiffened, but Seokjin continued. "I don't deserve everything you do for me.” His voice caught a little. “I’m sorry, Joonie, I don’t deserve you.”
A small sigh. “The roads are surprisingly clear, so I’m gonna head out. It’s early, I know, but I don’t want to intrude any longer.” Don’t go. “I’ll leave you something, promise.”
The bed lifted up slightly as Seokjin shifted, rising up from the bed. Soft footsteps came around the other side, and suddenly warm hands were pulling the blankets closer around Namjoon.
“Thank you.” The words were uttered so softly, Namjoon’s half-asleep brain could hardly process it. “I wish I could stay.”
He ran a hand through his hair again and Namjoon felt himself drifting back asleep. He must have fallen asleep sooner than he thought, because he felt the ghost of lips (impossible) brushing the skin of his temple.
When he woke up again, the sheets were cold and a plate of pancakes was waiting for him on the table, along with a sticky note that read: thank you again <3 jin.
Namjoon kept the sticky note. Of course he did.
He was craving Seokjin’s touch. One night, and all his carefully placed boundaries were crumbling around him.
“Get it together, Namjoon,” he muttered to himself in the mirror, hard eyes meeting that of his reflection’s. “He’s not interested. He never was.” He leaned forward, trying desperately to fix his hair.
Hair that Seokjin ran his fingers through.
Jesus christ. He was so fucked.
Namjoon braced his hands against the sink, squeezing his eyes shut. Before, he had a chance, at least. Before, he was a stupidly reckless twenty year old, ready to throw all caution to the wind for one of Seokjin’s smiles. But now? Now, he didn’t have a chance at all. Now, he couldn’t make the first move, unless Seokjin gave him an explicit reason to.
“Namjoon!” Taehyung’s voice drifted through the door. “Hurry up or I’m leaving without you.”
“I’m coming,” Namjoon called back. He stepped back from the mirror and adjusted his hair for the last time. When he stepped out, Taehyung perked up from where he was waiting by the door.
“Let’s go let’s go let’s go,” he sang, grabbing Namjoon’s arm and dragging him forward, more or less kicking open his apartment door. “We’re going to have fun tonight!” He poked Namjoon’s forehead. “And you’re going to stop worrying about whatever it is you’re worrying about.”
“It’s work,” Namjoon automatically lied.
“Whatever.” Taehyung shivered as a rush of cold air greeted them as they stepped outside Namjoon’s apartment building. “The year is almost done and we’ve deserved this break.”
The end of December had moved cold and fast, bringing forth relentless snowfalls. It was close to the New Year’s now and to celebrate, they were spending the evening at some bar Jimin liked to frequent. Seokjin was going to be there, and the thought of him was both thrilling and terrifying.
“Oh, hey!” Taehyung waved at the sight of the other five approaching the bar. “Looks like we were on time!” He darted forward, greeting Jungkook and Jimin with hugs. Hoseok and Yoongi were watching with bemusement, but Seokjin was looking at Namjoon. Namjoon caught his eye and his lips curved up in a smile.
“I’ve been begginggg you all to hang out,” Jimin was complaining, kicking a lump of snow on the ground. “Why is it so hard to wrangle all of you together?”
“It’s not our fault we don’t have an extended winter break,” Yoongi shot back. “Some of us work regular hours.”
Jimin huffed. “Can our new year’s resolution be to stop making fun of the fact I’m still in college? I literally have one year until I’m done.”
“Isacadamia worth it?” Jungkook slung an arm around Jimin, tugging him closer.
“No.” Jimin blew a strand of hair out of his face. Jimin had been working on his biochemistry PhD for years now. Namjoon didn’t know how he did it--he struggled enough to finish university with only a bachelor's degree. “I’m dead tired, and that’s why I need this.”
Seokjin sidled over to Namjoon, so he stepped back from the group to talk to him one on one. “Hey,” he said, feeling a little loss for words. “What’s up?”
Seokjin shoved his hands in his pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I’m wondering if we should take to the dance floor together,” he replied, quirking an eyebrow. “We haven’t traumatized a group of people in a while.”
“Oh god.” He and Seokjin weren’t bad dancers per se, but it was an inside joke when they were dating to dance completely off rhythm at any bar they went to, througoughly embarassing their friends and leaving themselves in a tangled mess of laughter. “Are you sure you can handle that?” He swept his hair back, faking confidence. “My rhythm’s been off the charts lately.”
“I’ve been working on a few new dance moves myself.” Seokjin placed a hand on his chest, affronted. “Can you handle me?”
“Okay, okay, if I have to take another minute of Namjin’s awkward flirting I’m going to go ballistic,” Hoseok interuppted them. “I’m freezing and we look like idiots standing outside. Let’s get in.”
“We look like idiots regardless,” Jungkook muttered, but followed him inside nonetheless.
Seokjin stared at Hoseok’s retreating back. “Awkward flirting? What does that mean?” He looked to Namjoon. “What does he mean?”
Namjoon grimaced. “They’re trying to set us up. Jimin’s been dead-set on it. I think he’s more invested in my sex life than his.”
Seokjin pressed the heel of his hand to his eye. “What do we do to deserve this?” he groaned. “Jimin landed himself two boyfriends and now he thinks he’s gotta fix my love life too.”
“Should we tell them?” Namjoon asked tentatively. Even the thought of doing that made his stomach turn.
Seokjin was quiet. “They’ll fixate on this for another week and then they’ll drop it. We don’t need to do anything. We’re just friends, I don’t understand what we’re seeing.”
“Maybe some of our married couple bickering is translating over,” Namjoon muttered. “Shit, sorry, was that too--”
“Nah.” Seokjin grinned at him. “We kinda always acted like that.” He inclined his head towards the door. “Shall we head in, then?”
Namjoon nodded. “The longer we stand out here alone, the more we’re fueling Jimin’s fanfics.”
“Don’t,” Seokjin warned, “even start. I’m here to have a good time.”
“So you’re not going to save a dance for me, then?” Namjoon joked.
Seokjin hooked their arms together, bumping Namjoon with his shoulder. “I said a good time, not a long time,” he chided. “I’m willing to risk getting hit by your arm for a chance to dance with you.”
Namjoon laughed, and tried to tamper down his heart from swelling at how ridiculously romantic Seokjin sounded.
Namjoon was tipsy, not drunk, but enough for his barriers to start breaking down and his resolve to crumble. Seokjin was tipsy too, giggling as he told his tenth dad joke, all revolving around, for some reason, cows.
When he stopped, the smile sort of melted off his face. "I miss you," he breathed, looking at Namjoon with those dark eyes that seemed to swallow him whole. They were alone at the bar, legs brushing and heads leaned in close. The other five had abandoned them to dance, but Namjoon couldn’t bring it in himself to care.
"I'm right here." He laughed a little. "How can you miss me?"
"I miss you.” Seokjin tilted his head back to drain the rest of his drink. Namjoon watched his lips on the glass, the way he swallowed, the drop that trailed down his jaw. "I really really miss you."
Namjoon swallowed. "And what does that mean?"
"It means," Seokjin wetted his lips, "it means I'm gonna do something really fucking dumb." He leaned in a little closer, his breath dusting Namjoon's cheeks. Namjoon's stomach swooped. “Stop me," Seokjin said. He was so unbearably close. "Stop me before I ruin this."
"Unfortunately," Namjoon muttered, hooking two fingers on the collar of Seokjin’s shirt, "I'm pretty fucking dumb too," and Seokjin kissed him.
It was chaste at first, innocent, and Namjoon could have easily leaned back and the kiss would've been easily forgotten in the night's whirl. But something prompted Namjoon, an urge that he had been suppressing for so, so long, and he pushed up against Seokjin, tilting their heads and deepening the kiss.
"Bad idea," Seokjin gasped, even as his hands scrambled for Namjoon, fingers skirting up under his shirt. A shiver ran Namjoon’s spine. He kissed Namjoon, sucked on his lip. "Bad fucking idea."
"We're drunk," Namjoon said, and kissed each corner of Seokjin's mouth. "And we're idiots. And it's just for tonight."
“Just for tonight,” Seokjin breathed. Namjoon threaded his fingers through his hair. “That’s all this is.”
They left the bar separately. Namjoon wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or regretful.
When Yoongi immediately shot him a shit-eating grin the moment Namjoon stepped into his apartment, Namjoon knew that he had seen everything. He popped over sometimes to bounce ideas off each other as he wrote music, but he was starting to regret coming now.
“I saw that you and Seokjin had a fun time last night.” Yoongi languidly flipped a page in his book and Namjoon languidly flipped him off. A mess of papers were strewn over his desk, with complicated designs and measurements. Blueprints, probably, since Yoongi worked as an architect. “Just friends, huh?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Namjoon said flatly. He dumped his bag on Yoongi’s couch and sprawled out next to it.
“I know you have a crush on him,” Yoongi continued. “Why don’t you ask him out? Put us all out of our misery.”
“We don’t have anything,” Namjoon said. “What you saw at the bar--that was just a fluke. There’s nothing between us.”
“Come on, Joon,” Yoongi whined. “I don’t see why you’re so adamant on staying single. You clearly like him, just give it a chance!”
“I like being his friend,” Namjoon said shortly. “We were both drunk.”
“When I’m drunk, I don’t grab Hoseok and kiss him.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. Then he paused. “Wait, that was a bad analogy. When I’m drunk, I don’t grab Jungkook and kiss him. You know that’s not a thing you’ve ever done, right?”
“Yoongi--” Namjoon started.
“Honestly, Joon,” Yoongi continued. “I love you, but how are you so dense? Just ask Seokjin out already, he’ll say yes in a heartbeat. You don’t have to make things worse for yourself by avoiding the issue.”
“He doesn’t feel the same,” Namjoon snapped. “He doesn’t feel the same and he’ll never feel the same and can you please just drop it, Yoongi?”
Yoongi’s eyes widened, all mirth dropped from his face. “Namjoon,” he said, very quietly, because they never argued, not since they had first moved from enemies to friends way back.
“I’m sorry.” Namjoon exhaled. “I just--I can’t talk about this. Can we not talk about it?”
Yoongi set his book down carefully. “Is there something going on between you two that I’m not aware of?”
Namjoon tilted his head back. “Yes. No. Kind of. It’s complicated. He’s...complicated. I can’t--” He waved a helpless hand. “I can’t figure him out. I don’t know what he means with all of...this.”
“You haven’t talked to him,” Yoongi said numbly. “That’s it, right? You’ve been avoiding each other.”
“Yeah.” Namjoon cringed. “That’s part of it.” He shot a glance at Yoongi. “Please don’t tell me to talk to him. I really, really can’t handle talking to him at the moment.”
Yoongi stared at him for a beat, clearly disastisfied. “Okay,” he said begrudgingly. “But Jungkook organized a hangout this week and I want you to come.”
Namjoon frowned, but didn’t argue. “Fine. Can we get started on music now?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Yoongi pointed a finger at him. “But figure this out, okay? No matter what happened between you two, Seokjin still cares about you.”
Namjoon didn’t bother to answer that.
There was no build up to their breakup--maybe that was what confused Namjoon the most. Sure, they had grown more distant than they had in the first year of dating but Namjoon had been drowning in work by the end of his junior year. He didn’t understand what was wrong back then. He still didn’t.
It happened like this: Kim Seokjin had walked into his apartment at the end of summer, set down a box of Namjoon’s belongings, told him they were over, and Namjoon had to catch a flight to America a week later.
And that was it. No explanations, no prior warnings, nothing. Maybe Namjoon had fucked up majorly and didn’t remember. Maybe Seokjin didn’t want a long distance relationship. Maybe he had just grown bored of him.
He was sick of constantly guessing what Seokjin was thinking. It was like aimlessly throwing darts at a target blindfolded, and praying that one of them makes it. He was going to drive himself insane playing his guessing game, and, perhaps even more infuriatingly--
Namjoon still loved him.
Jungkook was throwing glances at him from across the room (he had decided to go, for lack of better judgement), which was fair, because Namjoon was--for lack of a better word--brooding. He sighed and stood up, heading towards the darkened kitchen for some quiet space.
When he stepped in, Seokjin was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of water in his hand. His head jerked up at the sight of Namjoon, eyes widening.
“Sorry,” Namjoon mumbled, backing away. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“Namjoon.” Seokjin caught his arm, touch lingering before he let go. “Wait. Please.”
Namjoon’s feet stalled. “What do you want?”
“You’re avoiding me,” Seokjin said and Namjoon reluctantly turned around. “I know what we did--it was a mistake, okay? But we need to talk about this and you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Wow,” Namjoon said dryly. “That’s rich coming from you. Is this what they call character development?’
Seokjin’s lips tightened. “And what,” he said, very carefully, “is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I would’ve liked to have heard something when all my calls to you went to voicemail. That I’m tired of me trying to figure out what’s wrong with you because you never talk to me.”
“Well, I’m talking to you now.” Seokjin bit out. “Say what you need to say.” He gestured between them.
“I just want to know,” Namjoon said, “why the fuck you keep playing with me.” In the background, he was dimly aware of Jimin sitting up, worried, but he could only focus on Seokjin.
“Playing with you?” Seokjin stumbled over the word. “What does that--how am I--”
“You know exactly what you do.” Namjoon gritted his teeth. “You know I’m in love with you, you know I want to move on, but you keep coming back to me, and I don’t know why but it’s tearing me up, Seokjin, I can’t take this anymore.”
Seokjins eyes widened.“Namjoon--”
“What am I to you, anyway?” Namjoon voice was rising, higher and higher, and he wanted to stop, wanted it all to come back down, but it was too late. “What was I to you? Did you just toss me to the side because you felt tired of me? What was it? Are you so cruel, that you can’t just play with my feelings once, but twice?”
Jimin was making his way towards them, Jungkook was asking a million questions at once, Hoseok was pleadingly saying calm down, guys, and it was all too much, all at once.
And then Seokjin said: “I loved you.”
The silence was suffocating. Namjoon couldn’t breathe.
Seokjin swallowed, his face slightly sick, but he pushed on anyway. “I--I loved you Namjoon, do you really think--” He broke off. “Do you really think I wanted to hurt you? That I’d ever want to hurt you?”
“You broke up with me.” Namjoon’s voice sounded too cracked. Jimin stopped in his tracks to Seokjin, eyes darting between them. “You broke up with me and I left for America, and you never contacted me. What else could I have done?”
Seokjin’s face darkened. “I was just--it was the right decision at the time. Besides--” He looked away, “you never contacted me either.”
“You never told me how you felt!” Namjoon said. “You’re always hiding your problems, you could’ve just talked to me.”
“Yeah, well.” Seokjin’s tone was biting, harsh, so un-Seokjin. “It’s not like you’d care to listen now, anyway.”
“Seokjin,” Namjoon said, and it was tired now. “What is it you want from me?”
“I don’t know.” Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, overwhelmed. “I--I don’t know. It doesn’t matter to you what I want anyway, not anymore.” He looked down, bitterly. “We shouldn’t have reconnected.”
Seokjin looked back towards the group, staring at them wide-eyed from the living room and away again. “I’m--fuck, I’m going.” He turned, grabbed his coat, kicked on his shoes. “Sorry for ruining this party.” He wrenched open the door and looked towards Namjoon. For a split second, Namjoon thought he was going to say something, but instead he just shook his head and stepped out.
The door shut firmly behind him and Namjoon sagged against the counter. He wanted to run back after Seokjin, beg him for explanations, lay his entire heart out raw, but his legs wouldn’t move.
“Fuck.” He curled his fingers, nails digging into the soft skin of his palms. “Fuck fuck fuck.” Hoseok was next to him suddenly, taking his arm gently and leading him to the couch.
“Namjoon.” Jimin sounded tentative. “You and Seokjin…?”
“Three years,” Namjoon said numbly. “We dated for three years.”
Jimin stepped back, took a seat. Yoongi opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally, he said, “You didn’t tell us. You acted like you never knew each other.”
Namjoon cast his gaze down. “It’s painful remembering,” he murmured. “Our breakup was so abrupt and messy and I never really wanted to think about it. Worked for three years, anyway, but now…” He exhaled. “He came back and I didn’t know how to handle it.”
“Three years,” Jimin whispered. “Seokjin never told us.” He looked to Taehyung in confirmation, who shook his head. “Never mentioned a long-term boyfriend ever.”
“Neither did you,” Hoseok said, carefully, to Namjoon. “Was the relationship--” He paused, and Namjoon nodded at him to continue, “was it that bad?”
“It would be easier if it was bad,” Namjoon said slowly, “because then it would be a relief, wouldn’t it? Then I wouldn’t have missed him. It became ingrained, missing him. I didn’t notice how much of me was taken away until he came back.”
“You loved him.” It wasn't a question.
Namjoon closed his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I really did.”
“Jesus christ,” Yoongi said. “I didn’t know and I could have--I shouldn’t have pressed.”
“You didn’t know.” Namjoon rubbed his eyes, weary. “I just want to know why he left me. Maybe then I can finally let this go.”
“Or maybe not.” Taehyung’s voice was hesitant. “Maybe this is something worth rebuilding.”
“No.” Namjoon shook his head. “No, he doesn’t love me. I don’t know what he wants, but it’s not me.”
“Do you still love him?” Jungkook asked quietly.
Namjoon didn’t answer, but he was sure the answer was clear on his face.
Taehyung: are you ok :((
Taehyung: i know you're upset but try to talk to jin? hes really torn up about this :((
Jimin: seokjin exhausted my ice cream AND alcohol supply please just talk to him i cant get him to
Yoongi: you two need to talk, this is getting ridiculous
Seokjin: namjoon please answer im sorry
Seokjin: i know i didnt explain anything but i want to now im sorry
Seokjin: lets talk
Seokjin: namjoon? I meant everything i said, i never wanted to hurt you
Seokjin: im sorry, im coming over
“Five minutes.” Seokjin’s eyes were red and raw, his voice desperate and pleading. “Five minutes, that’s all I need. Then you can kick me out or never see me again, I just need five minutes to explain myself.”
Namjoon’s grip tightened on the doorway. The frigid air was already starting to set a chill in his bare fingers. “Seokjin. It hurts to just look at you.”
Something in Seokjin’s eyes broke. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know, I know. Just five minutes.”
And because Namjoon was a weak man, he let out a breath and stepped back. “Sure. Take as long as you need.”
Seokjin ducked inside, toeing off his shoes and darting glances at Namjoon ever few seconds. It was late, and Seokjin seemed practically dead on his feet.
Namjoon looked away. “Did you eat anything?”
Seokjin shook his head. He looked cold-bitten, wary. “I can’t eat anything. Not...now.”
“Sit down.” Namjoon gestured to the couch. “I’ll make you something simple.”
“Have your cooking skills improved?” Seokjin asked, surprise edging in. He made his way through Namjoon’s apartment carefully, sitting down cautiously even though Namjoon had invited him to do so.
“Not really,” Namjoon admitted, popping open the rice cooker. “But I can make rice, like any good, upstanding Asian.” Seokjin managed a weak smile at that.
Namjoon decided on making tea rice, which was simple and easy to stomach. Seokjin used to make it for him as a comfort food, and it felt strange for the tables to turn. The apartment was quiet except for the kettle’s whistle as the jasmine tea brewed. When it was done, he poured the tea over the rice and set it in front of Seokjin on the table, along with a spoon.
“Haven’t had this in a while.” Seokjin stirred the rice with his spoon and took a careful mouthful. “I used to make it all the time back then.”
“Back then,” Namjoon echoed.
Seokjin took in a breath. “We need to talk,” he said finally, setting down the bowl. “Actually talk about what happened.” He sucked in a breath. “Why I broke up with you.”
“If I did something wrong, I’m sorry,” Namjoon said quietly. “Whatever it was, I’m sorry.”
Seokjin tilted his head back, closed his eyes. “No. It was never your fault. I was just trying to save myself first. I had thought--childishly--that if I broke up with you first, it’d hurt less than when you’d inevitably leave me.”
“What--” His throat was dry. “What does that mean?”
“I knew you were going to break up with me someday,” Seokjin whispered. “I could never keep up with you. Your mind--it’s always moving, always jumping to the next thing. I guess I was waiting for you to move on from me and onto the next thing.”
“I’m not--I would never--”
“You wanted to study in America,” Seokjin said helplessly. “You were always working so hard. I was just in your way. That’s all I ever was. A burden to you.” When Namjoon opened his mouth, Seokjin cut him off. “I should’ve told you, I know. That was unfair of me. But I was scared and I was insecure and you were the best thing that had happened to me. It was shitty and dumb of me and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Namjoon, because I thought I was helping you but I was only trying to save myself.”
“It was dumb of you.” Namjoon didn’t feel mad or upset--just drained. He had spent three years feeling mad or upset at Seokjin. He didn’t have it in him to hold onto those feelings anymore. “But I should’ve noticed something was wrong. I should’ve helped you.” He smiled wryly. “I’ve always been kind of a terrible boyfriend.”
“You’re not a terrible boyfriend,” Seokjin said sharply and--oh, no, his eyes were becoming glassy, Namjoon didn’t want that. “Every year with you was worth it. I shouldn’t have thrown it all away.”
“Seokjin--”
“And yet,” Seokjin continued, “I still manage to fuck it up a second time. I couldn’t let you go again because I still--you’re still--” He broke off and looked away, frustrated. “I’m still so in love with you and I can’t make myself stop.”
“Seokjin,” Namjoon said softly, reaching out towards him. His fingers stalled, because this was uncharted territory and every step had to be careful.
And yet--
This was familiar. They had been here before. Quiet confessions, late nights, first steps...this wasn’t new. He had loved Seokjin before.
He let instinct guide him, cradling Seokjin’s cheek and turning him towards him. Seokjin’s eyes fluttered shut and his hands came to rest on Namjoon’s thighs. This is okay, Seokjin was telling him. Namjoon had memorized his body language years ago. I trust you.
Namjoon leaned forward and pressed their lips together, kissing him gently. Seokjin’s breath hitched, body tensing, but then he was kissing back, hands moving to rest at Namjoon’s shoulders. His lips were soft, still tasting like that peach chapstick he always liked. Namjoon had forgotten how much he had missed it, and having it all back was all so overwhelmingly good.
Seokjin pulled back, before resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon idly played with the hair resting on the nape of his neck, waiting for him to speak.
“I want this again.” Seokjin lifted his head, voice soft. “I don’t want to let your heart go just yet.”
Namjoon traced a finger down Seokjin’s face and Seokjin caught his hand, messily lacing their fingers together. “You already have it.” He squeezed their hands together once, like the beat of a new heart. “You've always had.”
Rain fell in cold, heavy sheets, washing away the last remnants of snow on the ground. Winter was giving way to spring, and the rain would in turn lead to the pink bursts of cherry blossoms. For now, though, it was raining, and Namjoon tightened his grip on his umbrella as he weaved through pedestrians.
He glanced at his phone to check the time. 2:29, and the coffee shop was right around the corner. Technically, he wasn’t late.
Namjoon darted inside, the warm air an escape from the unforgiving cold outside. He scanned the coffee shop until his eyes fell on Seokjin’s figure sitting by himself. He was wearing glasses, a little crookedly, and his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he browsed his phone. Namjoon couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at the mere sight of him.
He slid into the seat and Seokjin perked up at the sight of him. “I was just texting the groupchat.” He waved his phone. “They were joking about us going on a date.”
“And what did you say?” A coffee cup was already waiting for him and Namjoon wrapped his hands around it.
“I told them they were right,” Seokjin replied smugly. They had been dating on and off secretly for the past few weeks (the best weeks of Namjoon's life), until finally deciding to make it official. Jimin was going to kill them both when he found out they left him in the dark.
“Can we call this our first date?” Namjoon asked, drinking his coffee. Seokjin had ordered it disgustingly sugary for him, just the way he liked it.
“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” Seokjin laughed. “Oh, god, we have so many anniversaries now.”
“I’m not keeping track of them,” Namjoon said immediately. “We should just make up random number.”
“I’m thinking April 20th,” Seokjin said thoughtfully. “It’s a good date.”
“We’re definitely throwing out our old one,” Namjoon decided. “It has too many bad memories. I was a wreck that first year in America when it rolled around.”
“I had met Jimin back then,” Seokjin recalled. “He had no idea what was wrong, I just took him to the closest bar and got plastered.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t feel right to bring up our old relationship, anyway. We’re not really the same people anymore.”
“Thankfully," Namjoon agreed. “I think I started to be less self absorbed. Started noticing the people around me and being receptive to what they wanted. I think our breakup was the reality check I needed.”
"For me, the time alone helped find myself," Seokjin said slowly. "I think it was good for me. The first six months, I was a mess, but after that I focused on myself. Not on you, not what others thought of me, but myself and what I wanted. And I think that was really good. And I regret leaving you but I don't regret that growth." He nodded. “Yeah. I guess it worked out like that.”
“So...we’re not picking up where we left off,” Namjoon decided. “But I don’t want to start completely anew either.”
“Let’s call it a new season,” Seokjin suggested. “It’s still the same year but..different weather, y’know?”
“That makes zero sense.” Namjoon took a sip of his coffee. “You’re literally saying nothing right now.”
“Shut up,” Seokjin pouted. He looked impossibly adorable and Namjoon wanted nothing more than to kiss him.
So he did, leaning over the table and pressing their lips together in a quick peck, before sitting back and smiling at Seokjin tried and failed to hide his flusteredness.
“Doing okay over there?” he asked teasingly, reaching over to brush Seokjin’s hair out of his face.
“You caught me in a moment of weakness.” Seokjin hid behind his coffee cup. “It won’t happen again.” He poked one of Namjoon’s dimples in retaliation and Namjoon batted his hand away. While Seokjin himself might have changed, his love for Namjoon’s dimples most definitely did not.
“I’m serious about the seasons,” Seokjin added. “Like how winter changes from spring. The beginning of new growth.“
Namjoon hummed. “I kinda like that.” It was still raining outside, slow and steady.
“Should we get going?” Seokjin shook his now-empty coffee cup. “We can head out, if you want.”
“Nah.” Namjoon took his hand, playing with his fingers. Seokjin tilted his head and smiled as he watched. “Let’s wait out the rain.”