I will help you climb

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/5784607.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster/Kim Seokjin | Jin
Character: seventeen and twice as side characters
Additional Tags: i'll add things as they happen, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff
and Angst, Coming of Age, sorry for everything!, high school sucks for
everyone, Growing Up, Homophobia, Sneaking Around, etc etc etc,
death mention, but no character death
Series: Part 2 of , , ,
Stats: Published: 2016-01-22 Completed: 2016-04-05 Chapters: 12/12 Words:
73334

I will help you climb

by fitzgarbage

Summary

namjoon punches seokjin in the face. twice.

Notes

hi i hope you're all well

this can be interpreted as a prequel to "we'll find a way to make it right" but it doesn't have
to be so don't worry

See the end of the work for more notes

 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Namjoon is in the principal’s office awaiting punishment. It’s stuffy and near-silent; the tick of the
clock and the occasional rustle of fabric or huff of breath is all the noise in the room, but each tiny
movement sounds too loud. The kid next to Namjoon keeps breathing; it is terrible. The fluorescent
lights also let off a quiet buzz that Namjoon can hear when he listens hard. It’s bright and sterile.
The venetian blinds are drawn tight against the pretty March afternoon, and Namjoon is profoundly
uncomfortable.

They’re just waiting for Namjoon’s mom to arrive now; everybody else has been here for twenty
minutes. He keeps getting asked when she’ll be here, and he keeps explaining it. She doesn’t drive
so she has to walk, but she’s on her way. The principal and even the other kid’s dad don’t stop
giving him judgmental looks, as if this is in his power. With every passing minute it gets worse.
The principal says it’s okay, but he convinces no one.

She does come in, panting, at last, in a t-shirt and jeans with her hair looking messy. The
principal’s eyes widen just a little bit at the sight of her. Namjoon notices, but he doesn’t have time
to take issue. He’s so relieved to see her here. Everyone else in this room hates him. The kid he
punched is dressed really sharply against Namjoon’s tattered jeans and beanie, which isn’t in
uniform and got him a write-up in the hall earlier, but he won’t take it off. He’s expressing himself.
The kid’s dad is wearing a nice suit and making the sternest face in the world, which his son is
mimicking. Namjoon and his mom look like a couple of ragged delinquents.

“Please, have a seat, Ms. Kim,” says the principal. Namjoon’s mom thanks him and sits next to
Namjoon, making a frantic face that asks him to explain himself, but every time he’s opened his
mouth since arriving in this office he’s been met with three glares.

“Do you know why you’re here?” asks the principal condescendingly.

Namjoon’s mom nods. “My son got in a fight with another student,” she says.

“There was no fight,” the principal corrects her, like she’s a high schooler and not an adult. “Your
son hit the junior class president in the face.”

“Is that so?” she asks, and gives Namjoon a what the fuck are you thinking look.

The uppity kid next to Namjoon adjusts the bloody tissue crammed unattractively up his nose.

“So I’ve called you here to talk about the consequences.”

“We need to suspend the student,” says the kid’s well-dressed dad, before the principal’s even
done with his sentence, like he’s in a great hurry. His voice is stale.

Namjoon’s mom rolls her eyes. “And deprive him of days of learning? There are other ways to
show a kid consequences. I’ll ground him for a week, how’s that?”

The kid’s dad looks her up and down and scoffs, literally scoffs, which must be why his son grew
up to be obnoxious. “How are we supposed to believe you’ll really follow through with that?”

“We’re not here to talk about parenting,” says Namjoon’s mom levelly.
The kid’s dad makes a noise that says he thinks otherwise, but Namjoon’s mom ignores it. “This
isn’t a problem, he’s not a bad kid. I’m sure we can come up with a better solution than
suspension.”

The principal licks an ugly finger and sheafs through a couple pieces of paper on his shapeless grey
desk. He chooses one and picks it up. “It looks like your son has been truant both semesters of this
year and is failing most of his classes. And now he’s starting fights with other students? Honestly,
Ms. Kim, suspension would be sympathetic. I could expel him with a track record like this.”

“What?” barks his mom, looking between the principal and Namjoon like she doesn’t quite
understand. Her wounded gaze settles on Namjoon, and he cringes harder than he’s ever cringed.
She turns to to principal and says, “Listen, can I talk to my son outside for a minute?”

The principal exhales slowly. “Make it quick.”

Outside, Namjoon’s mom scream-whispers at him for almost a full minute before she lets him
speak. “What the hell?” she says. “You’re truant? What do you do all day? Why aren’t you going
to class? Why are you failing? You’re too bright for this. Why is this happening? Why did I not
notice? Are you trying to make me out to be the worst mother alive?”

Namjoon takes it stoically. After all, he deserves it. She was bound to find out one way or another,
he just sort of hoped he’d be able to weasel his way out of punishment for a while longer. He
doesn’t explain himself, though, he just lets her finish berating him and says, “I’m sorry. This
school sucks. I hit that kid ‘cause he called me stupid.”

And suddenly, Namjoon’s mother is scream-whispering about something completely different.

“What?” she snaps. “He called you stupid? He called my son stupid? What the hell? Does he know
who he’s messing with? And they want to suspend you and not him? They don’t have
consequences here for bullying? I’d argue that you acted in self defense. Come on, I’m going back
in there.”

“Mom, wait.”

“What, Namjoon?”

“Take a breath before you go.”

She does, but she’s still on fire as she aggressively sits, fixes a glare on the principal and talks him
into changing Namjoon’s sentence. “My son says this child called him stupid,” she says, sitting up
straight and pointing at the jerk kid. “I find it interesting that we haven’t spoken of any
consequences for that behavior.”

“Is that true, Seokjin?” asks the principal wearily, and the kid’s dad purses his lips like he doesn’t
see why it’s a problem for kids to be insulting each other.

The kid heaves a sigh that says he thinks he’s way too good for this conversation, but he says,
“Yes, sir.”

“I expect better conduct from the junior class president,” he says, though it’s far less convicted
than he was when he told Namjoon’s mom about his truancy problem.

“I’m sorry, sir,” says the kid sternly.

“In light of this,” says the principal, and it’s clear that he really just means in light of being yelled at
by Namjoon’s spirited mother, “I think both students should be given detention. One week for
Seokjin, two for Namjoon, though if he’s diligent I’ll think about letting him off early.”

“That seems more fair,” says Namjoon’s mom.

“Will this be on my son’s permanent record?” asks the other kid’s awful father.

The principal nods. “I’m afraid so, Mr. Kim. We do take bullying very seriously here. Our zero-
tolerance policy has been very effective, so I enforce it rigorously. Seokjin will have to think
harder about his language in the future.” He says this with no feeling, like he’s had to say it so
many times that it’s lost meaning.

There’s an uncannily similar huff and eye roll that boil off Seokjin and his dad, but they accept it,
and Namjoon’s mom looks satisfied.

On the walk home, she demands Namjoon explain himself. “Explain to me, son, why you’re
truant?”

Namjoon, defeated, speaks quietly. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Sweetheart, there’s only one thing expected of you when you’re your age. You
just have to show up. What are you doing all day? Not drugs, right?”

“No, I just walk around.”

“Well, stop walking around and go to class. And don’t fail, you shouldn’t be failing.”

“Alright,” says Namjoon.

“I’m sorry, honey. I know what it’s like. But hitting kids and failing and skipping is just not how
I’m going to let my son behave. I’ll have to ground you if you don’t start doing better. I want you to
bring your grades up so you don’t fail anything, and no more skipping. You understand me?”

“I understand,” he says. “Sorry.” He means it. He knows he’s disappointing her, even though she’s
not really mad. He used to be a really good student. Must suck to have him as a son right now, no
matter how laid back she is. “Sorry,” he says again.

“It’s okay, Joonie. It is. But I want you to be better after this.”

“I’ll try.”

“No more skipping.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Detention is a fresh hell. Namjoon’s been ordered to detention before, but he’s never gone, and
found, not for the first time in high school, that it’s really easy to get out of things. This time,
though, the principal gives him a slip that he needs to get signed and bring to him during advisory
period every morning, so he can’t really escape. He thinks about going the first day, memorizing
the signature, and forging the rest, but fucking Seokjin will probably tattle on him, the little shit.

Seokjin, by the way, is most of the reason that detention sucks.

The teacher doesn’t really care, she just sits in the back and reads a magazine and makes sure
everybody stays quiet and nobody leaves. Namjoon knows a bunch of people in here, mostly
pleasant people. One of them is a dude he’s run into off-campus when they should be in class, and
though they just hung out once, it was a good time. Another is a girl he’s got math with, who sits in
the back and doodles, and once he asked to see and was really impressed. She’s a great artist.
There’s also a dude here who hangs out behind the cafeteria and smokes pot all afternoon, and a
couple kids he recognizes from classes.

Detention is pretty packed; it’s easy to get in trouble at this school. Not that kids behave worse
here, but the school is badly organized and strict. Instead of being helpful or understanding, the
school just gives kids detention or suspension, for pretty much any crime. As if that works.
Namjoon was actually surprised that, on the day he hit Seokjin, the principal wasn’t already busy
reprimanding someone. Seems like he always is. Kids joke that his job title should be changed to
Punisher. Namjoon turns his head to check out the rustling across from him, and the kid next to
him passes him a note. It’s been most of the way around the room already, people just writing
what’s on their mind to pass time. Namjoon reads the whole thing and tries not to laugh at some of
the soul-bearing half-anonymous shit scribbled in the margins and corners.

smells like shit in here, wrote the person before him.

like a hot sandwich, agrees Namjoon in messy pen before passing it on.

He notices that Seokjin doesn’t take the note when it comes to him. He refuses to acknowledge it,
so the other kid has to reach around him to pass it on, and they almost get caught by the teacher
who’s supposed to be supervising them.

“What was that?” she croaks, sounding about as weary as the students in here, and Namjoon
wonders if this feels like punishment for her as much as it does for them.

“Dropped my pencil, Miss,” says the kid who just received the note, while Seokjin glares at the
wall in front of him. Namjoon wants to hit Seokjin again for being so full of himself. No sense of
community at all. He’s looking at the room like he’s above it. If he were so much better than
everyone, he’d be in private school or something. But he’s not, he’s in detention just the same as
the pot smoking kids and the ones who pick fights.

Namjoon can’t stop looking over at Seokjin. He’s a piece of fucking work, he holds his posture
and his face like he’s smelled something terrible through the entire hour. Whenever he huffs or
rolls his eyes it makes Namjoon want to scream, but he can’t stop looking. By the time they’re
released from detention, Namjoon’s got a tension headache from the effort of keeping his shit
together, but at least he can’t imagine it getting any worse.

The second day, however, is worse. It’s not that Seokjin is any different, but that’s really the
problem. By now he should have loosened up a little. Namjoon tried to play Seokjin’s behavior off
as funny; he and his friends had laughed about it at lunch and his mom had told him not to let it
bug him, but it actually made Namjoon so upset that he didn’t sleep well. So, he’s tired and he’s
cranky and he really just wants to go home but instead he has to waste an hour in detention and try
to ignore fucking Seokjin again.

He can’t, and by the end of the day, he’s so enraged that he doesn’t know what to do. His head
hurts, he feels insane and electric, like his body won’t calm down. He settles on two options:
explode and die from the rage, or pull Seokjin aside and tell him to calm the fuck down.

So, “Hey, Seokjin,” he says, imitating calmness pretty well.

Seokjin purses his lips but turns around to listen.

“What’s your deal? You know you can relax in there, right?” He’s trying to be cool about it but
he’s already losing his resolve, his voice is already getting tight.

“I can’t,” says Seokjin simply, and tries to go.

“You need to. You’re being a dick.”

Seokjin glares and lowers his voice. “That’s rude. But I don’t hit people who smack-talk me.” He’s
taunting, he’s so petty. Namjoon could scream.

“Fuck off, you don’t know me,” Namjoon snaps before he can think. This asshole doesn’t get to
act like Namjoon hitting him was some grand indicator of the type of person he is at a basic level.
No, Namjoon hit him because he was being a dick, and he’s being a dick now, and just because
Seokjin doesn’t hit Namjoon when he’s insulted doesn’t make him any less of a dick. He sucks.
He’s the worst person alive.

Seokjin’s pouting something fierce. “I know that you got me in detention for the first time in my
life. Maybe you don’t care about this stuff, but I need to get into a good school, and you’re setting
me back. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Excuse me? You shouldn’t be here? You called me stupid.”

“You are stupid,” spits Seokjin in this way that’s so high-and-mighty that Namjoon’s ears actually
start ringing.

“Fuck you, I’m smarter than you are.” He’s cracking, and he tries to curb it. This isn’t supposed to
turn into another fight, but Seokjin makes it so hard. He’s the most self-righteous person ever.

Seokjin laughs. “You don’t even come to class, how can you say that?”

Namjoon scoffs. “Oh, you’re right, Junior Class President. I forgot that attendance is the only
indicator of intelligence.” He runs a hand through his hair to give it something to do other than
crunching against Seokjin’s constantly upturned nose again. “Anyway,” he says, trying to
remember his conflict resolution skills, or whatever, “You’re stuck here. So be normal. You’re
making it unbearable.”

“I don’t care if it’s bearable for you,” Seokjin bites out, the twerp.

“You’re such a dick,” says Namjoon with a shaky laugh that bespeaks his barely-contained rage.

“Well, you’re a loser, and you’ll never amount to anything,” says Seokjin bitterly.

So, Namjoon hits him again.

This time, Seokjin hits back, and he actually packs a punch even though he’s got weird hands and
looks weak. So Seokjin’s got a split lip and Namjoon’s got a black eye. Seokjin only gets the one
good hit in, though, before Namjoon shoves him hard against the wall and walks the other way,
holding his eye and taking some breaths. The throbbing in his ears goes down and he turns to see
Seokjin covering his mouth with huge, terrified eyes and whining about how much trouble he’s
going to be in. Namjoon could just walk away, the only reason they got caught last time was
because Seokjin tattled, but just as he’s slinging his bag over his shoulder and starting to go,
feeling weirdly ashamed of himself, a teacher leaves a classroom across from them. She gives them
a once-over, Namjoon clutching his face, Seokjin bleeding from his mouth and sitting against the
wall like he might really be in shock, and says, “What happened here?”

In the principal’s office, with Namjoon’s deflated looking mom and Seokjin’s angry, rude dad,
they’re both sentenced the same without hesitation. Namjoon can imagine how Seokjin feels at the
way the principal looks down at him, like he’s lost respect for Seokjin. Namjoon actually doesn’t
feel like the most hated person in this room right now.

Their punishment serves two purposes. The first is forcing them to work together to resolve their
differences, and the second is embarrassing them so that they never want to hit anyone again.
They’re on trash duty for two weeks. That means, every day at lunch and after school, they have to
go around campus in hideous neon vests and gloves and pick up all the litter they find on school
grounds. They’ve got slips that they have to get signed every afternoon saying that they’ve done a
good job. People will see them. People will talk. They’re free from detention, but they probably
won’t ever live this down.

Namjoon is still infuriated, and Seokjin looks like he wants to cry.

When Seokjin’s dad leaves and snaps that he’ll wait in the car for him to get his things from his
locker, he does cry.

Namjoon’s mom looks at him with sympathy. “Hey,” she says soothingly. “Are you okay?”

Seokjin, leaned over his legs in the waiting room to the office, now empty except for the three of
them, mutters, “Yeah, fine, sorry.” He shudders a last breath and then he sits up, wipes his eyes
with the back of a hand and slings his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” she says comfortingly, still seated with Namjoon. “This stuff sucks a lot right now,
but it’s not forever. It won’t follow you as closely as your teachers make you think it will.”

“I know,” says Seokjin, dabbing his eyes on his sleeve. “It’s not that. It’s just. It’s fine. I’m gonna
go.”

And Seokjin, looking smaller and less haughty than Namjoon’s ever seen him, goes.

“That poor boy,” says Namjoon’s mom when they’re walking home. She’s already given Namjoon
the speech that she says she feels obligated as a mother to give, but she also says that the
humiliation factor of their new punishment is more than enough comeuppance for fighting.

“You’re on his side now?” Namjoon asks, disbelieving.

His mom shakes her head. “I’m on both of your sides,” she says. “I get that he’s insufferable, he is.
But he was just crying in there. His parents must be strict.” She draws out the last word.

Namjoon hadn’t really thought about that. They must be. But it doesn’t matter, a jerk is a jerk.
Seokjin just has a punchable face. Namjoon knows that better than anyone.

Trash duty is miserable. Seokjin doesn’t even say anything petty, he just glares pointedly every few
minutes from wherever he is, usually halfway across the quad even though they’re supposed to stay
together. It’s not the job that sucks; they’ve got gloves and even special grabby tools that keep them
from having to really touch any of the garbage. The problem lies in the fact that they have to be out
in these horrible orange vests carrying around trash bags where all the other students can see them.
It’s almost inhumane.

Namjoon has a few friends, but none who he’s very close with. He’s a freshman and he’s been
mentally checked out since October, so his embarrassment is surface level. People wonder what
he’s doing. Some of them might recognize him. He has an ugly black eye that’s starting to go green
around the edges. They know he’s in trouble. It sucks.

Seokjin, on the other hand, is going through something like slow social death. Namjoon hates the
guy, and they haven’t spoken a word since their last fight, except for on the second day when
Seokjin had condescendingly said “Hello,” and Namjoon had grunted back at him. But for all he
hates him, he pities him just a little bit. People keep standing near them and unsubtly huddling and
gossiping, and it’s clearly not directed at Namjoon. People know who Seokjin is. He’s the one with
a reputation to soil.

It gets worse as the days go on, probably as gossip spreads. Kids start walking in clusters to where
the two of them stand in their misery, picking up old candy bar wrappers and soda cans. Namjoon
wonders how much of the trash he’s had to pick up was dropped by the same inconsiderate people
who now stand around gaping at them for picking it up. Namjoon is surprised at how petty and
mean people are, and it only gets worse as the days pass. One guy walks by and calls something
stupid and inane about how he hopes they’re enjoying themselves, and then, not long after that,
somebody throws a carton of milk at Seokjin.

It hits him on the side of his reflective vest with a wet thwack and bursts. Most of the liquid rolls
off the vest onto the ground, but there’s some on his pants and a lot of it exploded onto his face and
into his hair. It’s dripping. He looks stunned. He stands there like he can’t move for a minute, and
then, slowly, pulls off a glove and wipes the spatters off his face with a precise hand. It’s clear that
he’s trying hard to look dignified, but it’s pretty much impossible with a bag of other people’s
littered garbage in his hand and a faceful of milk.

Namjoon doesn’t know what to do, either. He stands there as agape as Seokjin for a minute, but
when Seokjin drops his trash bag right where he stands and turns back toward the nearest building,
Namjoon follows him.

He finds him in the bathroom, standing over one of the sinks peeling off his vest and glaring at his
reflection in the mirror. He looks up at Namjoon and his expression doesn’t change.

“That sucks,” says Namjoon, trying to extend an olive branch, or at least make this bathroom a safe
zone for a minute. It really does suck. Seokjin sucks, but having milk in your hair sucks too.

Seokjin doesn’t say anything, just drops his vest unceremoniously to the ground and presses the
lever on the paper towel dispenser aggressively a bunch of times.

“Can I help?” asks Namjoon.

“No,” says Seokjin.

“Okay,” says Namjoon, but he feels weird just standing there so he takes the stack of towels from
next to Seokjin and gets it damp for him.

Seokjin takes it from him and mumbles, “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” says Namjoon. Seokjin wipes off his face and hair and the front of his shirt where it’s got
milk seeping in the front, and tries his best to get it out of his pants, but it’s already started drying
in his jeans and it’s pretty much hopeless. It’s gross and it looks uncomfortable. Seokjin seems
unhappy and offended. Then again, when doesn’t he?

Namjoon doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t like Seokjin any more than he did before this,
and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling so sympathetic when he’s made Seokjin bleed from his face
twice in the past week. But when he’d hit Seokjin, it was because he was being a jerk. He wasn’t
being a jerk this time. Who just throws shit at someone who’s already being publicly humiliated?
Namjoon’s not really sorry for hitting Seokjin. But he wouldn’t be sorry if he hit the guy who
threw milk at Seokjin either.

Seokjin finishes trying to get the milk out of his clothes and splashes water on his face before
picking up his vest like it’s a dead thing and leaving without saying anything else. It seems,
though, like he lingers for Namjoon in the doorway.

That afternoon, things start to feel a little different.

Seokjin still looks defeated, and there’s a stain on his shirt and a couple clumps of hair have dried
together where he didn’t get the milk out. But he’s dropped a tiny bit of his usual defensiveness.
Maybe the set of his shoulders isn’t so tense, maybe he looks like he smelled something that was
just sour instead of truly dead and rotten. Maybe it’s that he doesn’t make an incredible effort to
stay a mile away from Namjoon. It’s surprising and weird.

Nobody says anything, but the hatred between them seems a little duller.

The next day at lunch, when people start taunting them, Namjoon feels almost a little protective of
Seokjin. Really, it’s not that Seokjin deserves better, it’s just that he didn’t do anything wrong!
He’s already being punished, that should be enough. It’s cruel, the way some of the students are
acting, and nobody’s stopping it. Namjoon hates it when people aren’t considerate.

But he doesn’t try to stop it either. It’s not his place. He’d be hypocritical if he tried to intervene
now, and Seokjin hates him anyway. So he lets it happen and keep happening and tries to ignore it
and decides that Seokjin’s bigger than him, so he can probably handle himself. In fact, if
Namjoon’s sore eye is any indication, Seokjin’s more than capable of handling himself. But the
problem is that he won’t.

Namjoon tries to rustle up conversation with Seokjin a few times, just to fill the space, but Seokjin
either completely ignores him or answers monosyllabically. At least they’re not fighting, thinks
Namjoon. He definitely prefers a quiet Seokjin, keeping to himself for once, to an aggressive one.
Even though Namjoon is bored.

A couple really rude kids start doing this thing where they not-so-subtly litter their lunch trays as
they walk by. It starts with just a wrapper here and there, but eventually there are kids dumping
their entire lunches out onto the pavement and watching from afar to see how they react. Namjoon
puzzles at a soaked burger bun that falls apart when his grabby tool tries to pick it up, and says to
Seokjin, “You’d think with so few admins around we’d have gotten away with fighting.”

Seokjin snorts out a laugh. “I don’t get lucky,” he says.

“No?” asks Namjoon, hesitantly, not sure if he should try to turn this into a conversation.

“Nope,” says Seokjin. “It’s a law of the universe. There’s gravity, and there’s pi, and there’s
lightspeed, and then there’s Seokjin’s Law which states that if I can get caught doing something
incriminating, I will.”
“Heavy burden,” says Namjoon.

Seokjin grunts.

Three kids come by with more trash than they should even be carrying and drop it in front of
Seokjin.

Namjoon’s had enough. “Hey, fuck off,” he says, advancing on them.

They run away, giggling about how he’s crazy, but he doesn’t care. He points at another group of
people not far off who are trying to look like watching the spectacle isn’t why they’re here, and he
says, louder, “You too. Fuck off.”

They do, and Namjoon picks up the trash that Seokjin’s still sort of just blinking at.

“People are so nasty at this school,” he says sympathetically, on hands and knees because it’s
easier with this much garbage.

Seokjin doesn’t reply, but he looks at Namjoon with something like apology.

Another few minutes go by, quiet except for the rustling of garbage, and then Seokjin huffs out,
“I’m so done picking up trash.”

“I think I’m gonna skip out on it this afternoon,” says Namjoon. “I doubt anyone will notice.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. “They’ll notice.”

“Seriously,” says Namjoon. “If you’re cool about it, they won’t.”

Seokjin shakes his head as Namjoon stands back up. “If you don’t come, then it’ll just be me, and
someone will definitely notice if there’s only one of us.”

“Yeah,” says Namjoon. “So don’t come. I’m serious. Just go home after school. You don’t deserve
this.”

Seokjin looks angry with Namjoon again. “You can’t put me in this position.”

Namjoon shrugs.

“If I come then you’ll get in trouble.”

“And if I get in trouble I won’t show up, and if I get in trouble for that I won’t show up for that,
and eventually they’ll forget it. Meanwhile you’re getting garbage thrown at you until the end of
time. Go home.”

Seokjin frowns deep and looks like he’s thinking it over. He almost seems sold, but then he says, “I
can’t go straight home.”

“Oh. Then walk around until you can.”

“Might as well just pick up trash, then.”

“I’ll walk with you,” says Namjoon, and he’s not even sure why. He doesn’t want to, but
something about the way Seokjin said that he can’t go home made him feel weird.

Seokjin scoffs. “I don’t want to walk around with you. You hit me every time we talk.”
“We’re talking now,” says Namjoon. “I don’t normally hit people.”

“Could have fooled me,” says Seokjin bitterly.

Namjoon gets serious. “You know how shitty the kid who threw that milk at you was?”

Seokjin groans.

“You were that shitty to me.”

“I wasn’t,” says Seokjin, defensive.

Namjoon tries not to laugh. As soon as he said something that made Seokjin feel threatened, his
posture shot up, his stony face came back, and his voice got haughty again. He had started to relax
a little. Namjoon consoles him. “Hey, it’s fine,” he says, feeling kind of beyond his anger toward
Seokjin right now. “But yeah, you were.” Namjoon had hit Seokjin because the teacher had called
on him when he clearly wasn’t listening, just to shame him, and he hadn’t been able to answer the
question, and Seokjin had scoffed to his friend that Namjoon was so stupid. And a bunch of people
had laughed. It was rude, especially when Namjoon’s ears were already pink with embarrassment.
Everyone obviously already thought Namjoon was stupid. Seokjin didn’t have to say it.

So, he’d seethed for the rest of the class period and only gotten more upset, until his head was hot
and rage thrummed through his veins. He was so upset that it was hard not to scream, hard not to
hit his desk or throw his bag or kick something. He pulled Seokjin aside after class and tried to be
calm, tried to just tell him to think before he speaks, but he’d had trouble finding words through the
red throbbing in his brain and Seokjin had raised his eyebrows in this piteous sort of way that made
Namjoon feel so small, and in that moment there hadn’t been anything else he could do but punch
the guy. And he still thinks that Seokjin deserved it.

Seokjin clearly doesn’t think he did anything wrong, and at this point, it doesn’t matter that much.
Namjoon maybe shouldn’t have hit him until he bled. The fact remains, they’re here picking up
trash and it’s definitely teaching them a lesson. Even if the lesson is that everyone at this school is
testing their will to live.

“Anyway,” Namjoon says breathily. “I’m not showing up this afternoon. You can meet me at the
exit in the parking lot near the portables if you want to. It’s up to you.”

Seokjin huffs, and Namjoon has no idea if he’ll really see him there.

Namjoon waits around for ten minutes or so after school, looking at his phone and leaning against
the fence. He wants to give Seokjin a chance to show up if he’s going to, not that he cares.

He’s not that disappointed when Seokjin doesn’t show up, and he turns to walk home.

But, a few minutes later, jogging footsteps come up behind him and slow to a walk at his side.

“Oh, hey,” says Namjoon, looking over to Seokjin, whose chest heaves a little.

“Hi,” says Seokjin quickly.

“You skipped trash duty?”

“I hate trash so much,” says Seokjin. “Littering is a real crime.”

Namjoon nods. “I’m going to be really careful with my trash after this.”

They walk in silence for a couple minutes, and then Seokjin asks, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” says Namjoon. He’s just walking. “Somewhere you wanna go?”

Seokjin makes a noise. “Not really. I’m hungry though. Is there a store around here?”

“Sure,” says Namjoon, and he points vaguely. “Couple blocks that way.”

They don’t talk for another few minutes, adjusting their trajectory to head to the store. Then,
Namjoon’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Why can’t you go home?” he asks.

Seokjin heaves a heavy sigh, and there’s real anxiety in it. “My mom expects me to be picking up
trash until four, and I’ll get killed if she finds out I’m not.”

“Killed?”

“Really, killed.”

“That’s pretty serious,” says Namjoon gravely, trying to make light of the situation.

Seokjin kicks a leaf on the sidewalk. “Yep,” he says shortly.

“Why did you skip then, if you might get caught and really killed?” Namjoon asks after a silence.

Seokjin shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. He thinks for a minute and then opens his mouth like he’s
got something else to say, but just breathes out again. “I don’t know.”

Namjoon shoves his hands in his pockets. “That’s cool,” he says. Breaking the rules could
definitely do Seokjin some good.

They don’t skip trash duty the next day at lunch, because Seokjin is willing to leave campus when
he’s not legally required to be there, as he explains, but not during school hours. Namjoon says
lunch isn’t school hours, it’s lunch, and at a lot of other school kids are allowed to leave and come
back. Seokjin hisses, “Not here.”

So they pick up trash, though it’s half-assed. The first couple days they did this chore like it
actually mattered, but really, no one is watching them. Seokjin’s still in awe that they didn’t get
caught yesterday afternoon, but Namjoon isn’t surprised at all. They don’t have to be doing this.
But Seokjin doesn’t know what to do if it’s not what he’s told.

Kids are rude, but Namjoon and Seokjin have almost teamed up against them at this point, and
when someone drops their lunch tray near them, they ignore it. Namjoon mutters asshole under his
breath and Seokjin says, “True,” and they go to another part of the quad without picking it up.

After school, Seokjin meets up with Namjoon again, and they walk more.

They don’t talk a lot. They’re not friends. They’re just ditching trash duty together. Still, after a
week and a half at this, Namjoon pretty much doesn’t hate Seokjin at all anymore. He’s weird and
uppity and stoic and quiet and honestly boring, but Namjoon doesn’t hate him. And that makes it a
lot easier to spend all this time with him.

On the third afternoon they ditch, Seokjin, out of the blue, says, “Thanks.”
“For what? You’re welcome?”

Seokjin smiles a little to himself, like something’s funny. “For getting me to skip it.”

“Oh, definitely. You’re welcome. This is way better.”

“Yeah. I feel like, powerful about it.”

“Oh?”

Seokjin nods. “Even if I got caught, I think it would be okay. I can do what I want sometimes. It
doesn’t really matter, does it? People don’t really care.”

“No, people don’t care at all.”

“Well,” says Seokjin, “I’m glad that they don’t.”

On the second Friday, their last day of trash duty, someone actually comes to check on them at
lunch. It’s a younger lady, probably some assistant to the principal, and she asks them how they
are.

“Fine,” says Seokjin, straightening up in that way he does when he’s got something to prove.

“Good,” she says. “I’ve been sent by the principal to remind you that today is your last day on
trash duty and to ask you what you’ve learned.”

Namjoon eyes Seokjin sideways, and Seokjin makes an imploring face; he knows the gist of what
Namjoon’s about to say and he wants no part of it. Still, Namjoon speaks his mind, as nonchalantly
as anything. “People threw trash at us almost every day,” he starts. “Someone actually threw a
carton of milk at Seokjin, and nobody was ever around to stop them. I think half the kids at this
school should be on trash duty. Honestly, I’d rather get into fights than drop wet garbage on the
pavement just so I can watch somebody else pick it up. Completely disgusting, I can’t believe it. I
hate this school.”

The lady looks a little aghast for a minute but composes herself. “I’ll make sure to pass that on,”
she says placatingly. She looks down at her clipboard for another cue and asks, “Do you respect
each other more now?”

“Sure,” says Namjoon.

“Will you be starting fights with other students any more?”

“No,” says Namjoon, cutting off Seokjin, who’s opened his mouth presumably to sputter out that
he doesn’t start fights with other students, which is completely irrelevant right now.

“That’s good,” she says, looking kind of sorry. “Well, after you finish your duty this afternoon, you
can bring your vests back to the office and have a quick meeting with the principal. Alright?”

Seokjin says, “Alright. Thank you.”

“So, I see you’ve gotten over your differences?” asks the principal that afternoon.
“More or less,” says Seokjin.

The principal nods, full of himself, like his punishment method has been really effective.

“But did your assistant tell you that students were throwing shit at us and dumping their trash the
whole time?” says Namjoon.

“No, she didn’t,” says the principal, lying thinly like they’re not smart enough to tell.

Seokjin actually speaks up this time. “This kid threw a full milk carton at me, it was disgusting,”
he says.

“Oh, no,” says the principal dryly.

“We got in all this trouble but nobody else was even scolded. I don’t understand how consequences
work at this school,” says Seokjin, gaining confidence.

“I’m sorry,” says the principal, clearly disappointed in Seokjin, though Seokjin doesn’t seem to
care, “but I think giving a student a black eye is on a different level than littering.”

“Well, if anyone had been there to see it,” says Namjoon. “They’d have been disgusted.”

“That’s not what we’re here to talk about, Mr. Kim,” the Principal says.

Namjoon huffs but doesn’t say anything more. He’s getting really upset and this is not the time. He
breathes deeply.

“I’m glad you two have dealt with your differences,” the principal continues. “That’s what I called
you here to discuss. No more fighting, right?” he says.

“Sure,” says Namjoon, arms crossed, glaring off to the side.

“Great. Then you can go. I expect not to see either of you here again.”

“Great,” agrees Namjoon sourly, and they go.

Outside, Namjoon growls at Seokjin. “I can’t believe how flippant these people are. Do they not
understand that two weeks of trash duty for us isn’t solving anything? Nobody’s any better off.”

Seokjin’s clearly frustrated, but he’s still very mellow. “I don’t know,” he says, almost soothingly.
“They don’t get it.”

“You’re the president, can’t you work on this shit?”

Seokjin laughs. “Oh dear, no. We don’t have any say at all.”

“Then why do you exist?” moans Namjoon.

“Because they need someone to plan prom and shit.” The curse sounds foreign on his tongue, and a
look of excitement flashes over Seokjin’s face.

At this point they’re outside school grounds and starting to go on the walk that they’ve been on a
few times now. It’s green, this neighborhood is pretty, and a little muggy. Namjoon rips off his
flannel because he’s hot with frustration as it is and ties it around his waist while stomping a little,
walking fast like he’s got to be somewhere.
“Oh my god,” says Namjoon. “I can’t believe this. I want to be homeschooled.”

Seokjin looks at Namjoon dead in the face and says, “No, you don’t.”

Namjoon laughs, bitterly but not without mirth. “How do you know?” Seokjin wrings his hands,
looking uncomfortable, and says, “I was homeschooled before high school.”

“Oh, yuck,” says Namjoon.

“Hey,” says Seokjin.

“Not you,” amends Namjoon. “Just, not to be weird, but your dad seemed rude.”

“Well, it was my mom who taught me,” says Seokjin. “My dad works all the time. That’s why he
was so rude at those meetings with the principal. He was busy. I interrupted.”

Namjoon understands, but, “Why didn’t your mom come, then?”

“Because my dad handles that stuff.”

Namjoon doesn’t know what that stuff is or why it matters who handles it, but he doesn’t have a
dad, so sometimes he gets confused. He changes the subject. “Do you like being homeschooled
better, or going to our shitty school?”

“I hate both,” says Seokjin honestly. “I think if I had to pick one, though, I prefer school.”

“Why?”

“Because being around other people is enlightening.”

Namjoon nods. He can’t imagine being homeschooled, he’d probably have gone insane and run
away or something, even though he likes his mom a lot. Having people around is good for him, as
much as he dislikes everyone sometimes. Then again, if he were homeschooled, maybe his work
ethic would be better. Oh well, can’t win them all.

He doesn’t know Seokjin’s parents, but he thinks he doesn’t like them, and he can’t imagine being
homeschooled by them. “I’m glad you get to go to school, then,” he says.

“Same here,” says Seokjin. Then he inhales quickly and says, “Do you want to hang out more after
this?”

Namjoon shrugs. He still pretty adamantly thinks Seokjin is weird and lame, but, if he’s being
honest, he sort of does want to hang out more after this. “Okay,” he says. “You can come to my
house sometime.”

Seokjin nods. “That would be nice. My parents might want to meet yours first.”

Namjoon says, “That’s fine.” That should not be a problem. His mom is cool.

“They’ll have to make a good impression since my dad thinks you and your mom are low class.”

Namjoon snorts. “Okay, I’ll rent a tuxedo and my mom can wear a fur coat. Will that help?”

“Definitely. And if you don’t have a crystal chandelier, please get one. It’s the only way.”

“Well, if it’s the only way,” agrees Namjoon.

It’s Saturday, and Seokjin’s coming over. The pageantry is hilarious, both to Namjoon and his
mom. Seokjin’s mom and dad are both bringing him over, like it’s a really big deal to let him out of
their sight. In reality, what Seokjin said was that as soon as he mentioned the idea to his parents,
they thought he meant it like some kind of peace offering or diplomatic engagement. They thought
he wanted to go to Namjoon's house to finalize some peace treaty between them. They couldn't
understand that maybe they just legitimately wanted to hang out.

Namjoon and his mom very gravely decided to get some cleaning done beforehand, had gotten rid
of the Christmas decorations that were still up just because, changed the tablecloth and dusted the
bookshelves. Namjoon’s put something on with no tears or stains (harder to find than he expected it
would be), and his mom’s wearing her business clothes, the ones she wears when she goes to meet
clients. She thinks it’s great that Namjoon and Seokjin are reconciling their differences, but she
also thinks this is oddly like a church gathering or a playdate between very young children.
Namjoon doesn’t even really think he wants to do this anymore. There’s a lot of pressure. He
hasn’t had to deal with this much parental involvement in a long time. His mom’s always been sort
of hands-off, and his friends are the same way. He just texts her if he’s going to be late from
school, usually has to be home by dark, and sometimes she’ll confirm plans with his friends’
parents on the phone. However, from the sound of it, Mr. and Mrs. Kim are going to want to sit
down with Namjoon’s mom and have a talk with her. Namjoon doesn’t really know how to do this,
and neither does his mom. They’re stiff. Namjoon keeps laughing nervously.

Seokjin and his parents arrive three minutes before two. Namjoon’s mom has snacks laid out and
has made lemonade. She laughs to herself about it, but will do anything to help Namjoon. When
Seokjin’s parents knock, she opens the door and welcomes them in.

“Please, have a seat,” she offers, gesturing to the couch in the living room through the kitchen.

“Oh, we’ll only be a moment,” say Seokjin’s mom, a thin and opulently-dressed woman who is a
lot better looking than Seokjin’s father. Namjoon sees a lot of her in him, actually, though the way
Seokjin almost cowers behind them has none of the confidence that both of his parents embody.
“We just wanted to come in and say hello.” She smiles at Namjoon’s mom like she’s trying to be
warm.

Namjoon’s mom takes it in stride. “Hello!” she beams, and Namjoon is impressed with her acting.
“We’re so glad to have Seokjin over.”

“Is the man of the house around?” she asks, her voice high and tight like she is trying so hard to
pretend to be friendly.

Namjoon’s mom snorts and covers it by coughing. She pours herself a glass of lemonade and takes
a drink. “He’s not,” she finally says.

How awkward. Seokjin looks at Namjoon sympathetically. Seokjin’s dad looks around the house
like he’s inspecting it for sharp things that could hurt his child. “Well, we should get going,” he
says to his wife. “I’m glad you boys have worked it out between you. Enjoy yourselves this
afternoon.”

Seokjin’s mom says, “We’ll be back after our other boy’s soccer practice. Five o’clock. You boys
have fun.”

“Be polite,” says Seokjin’s dad, “don’t leave this house, answer your phone if I call you.” These
would all normally be alright things to say to someone, but the way he says them comes off like
he’s just trying to remind Seokjin that he’s in charge.

Seokjin nods, lips tight, looking humiliated, and lets his father pat him condescendingly on the
shoulder and his mother say “Bye, sweetie,” before they leave and Seokjin visibly relaxes.

“You want some snacks?” asks Namjoon’s mom, obviously startled and apprehensive.

“Sorry,” Seokjin mutters.

“For what?” asks Namjoon’s mom. “You’re fine.” She emphasizes you. “Anyway, you two can run
off, just don’t get into trouble and be ready to go when your parents get back.”

Namjoon nods. “You want a tour?” he asks sheepishly.

“Sure,” says Seokjin.

So Namjoon leads him from room to room in his modest house, shows him where the bathroom is
and the living room, gestures to the plants that sit in the windowsill and hang from the ceiling in
the kitchen and the dining room, shows him the closed doors to his mom’s room and her office,
and finally takes him down the hall to the corner where his room is.

“So this is where I live,” he says, leading Seokjin inside.

It’s not a big room, and it’s not particularly clean, but it’s homey. Everything’s sort of
monochromatically blue, the walls are lighter blue and the comforter on the bed is a deep navy,
and the bookshelf and desk are black. The windows, on two sides, let in comforting natural light.
Instead of turning on the overhead light, Namjoon goes to where a floor lamp stands near the desk
and clicks that on. There’s a laptop closed and plugged in on his desk, a poster of someone Seokjin
doesn’t recognize on one wall, a couple little trophies and medals arranged on top of his bookcase,
but the main thing about Namjoon’s room is that there are books littered sort of everywhere.
There’s a stack on the desk, and two glossy hardcovers lay open there. They look like reference
books. More are crammed into a basket on the nightstand and there’s one on Namjoon’s pillow;
those ones are mostly paperbacks. He’s also got two tall stacks in front of the bookshelf: overflow,
because the shelf is crammed as creatively as possible already. Seokjin doesn’t snoop, but he does
say, “Lots of books in here.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t know,” says Namjoon.

Seokjin is awkward and they both clearly feel weird about being here, but Seokjin presses through
the heaviness that’s making it hard for them to talk to each other. “Do you read a lot?”

Namjoon hums a yes and grabs the book off his pillow, hands it to Seokjin. “Here’s what I’m
reading now,” he says. “It’s really good.”

Seokjin looks at the cover for a minute, taking it in, and then reads the back. It honestly seems sort
of boring, a fictionalized account of an actual shipwreck, or something.

“It’s about this poet that I like,” Namjoon says. “He’s this guy who keeps turning up in my life,
even though nobody knows who he is. I just keep seeing him around. He has this poem I love
about being like, acidic, and dirty, and wanting to fling himself off a cliff.”

“That’s heavy,” says Seokjin.

“Well, it’s relatable,” says Namjoon. “Anyway, I saw this at the bookstore a couple weeks ago. I
guess this book was super limited release because nobody cared about it. But who would take this
one random thing that happened to this one random poet and write a book about it? This author
must be the only other fan in the world.”

“Do you have any of his poetry here?”

Namjoon’s already on his knees rifling through his bookshelf. “Mhmm,” he says, sliding one of the
overflow stacks out of the way and finally finding what he’s looking for.

He leafs through it until he finds a poem that he likes and hands it to Seokjin, who reads it, and
doesn’t really get it, but Namjoon’s going, “Isn’t it so good?” and practically bouncing on his heels
as he reads it over Seokjin’s shoulder and responds appropriately to every line, reciting a few
choice bits emotively. Seokjin can’t help but get a little excited about it, just because he’s never
seen Namjoon so engaged with something before and it’s pretty cool.

They go to the kitchen again after a few minutes and have some of the snacks his mom left out.
She’s nowhere to be found, probably working in her office, and Namjoon, with a mouth full of
food, asks Seokjin if he wants to go on a walk.

He does, and they do. They talk and they laugh like there’s some wall palpably breaking down
between them. Namjoon shows him his favorite house in the neighborhood, yard overgrown with
almost too many plants. Seokjin doesn’t talk much about himself, but they do talk about school.

“I keep forgetting you’re a freshman,” Seokjin says.

“Yeah,” Namjoon says.

“Why are you in precalc?”

Namjoon shrugs. He is failing precalc.

They’re back at 4:30, cheeks pink from laughing at each other. They’d been working on their
impressions of the principal, offering critique, and had both gotten very good. Seokjin’s is better,
though. Once he got the sort of wet sound to his voice, the rest was smooth sailing. Though,
Seokjin concedes, Namjoon’s isn’t so bad either. He’s got the wooden posture and the frown
down-pat.

They walk into the house ready to eat more. The lemonade is suddenly really appealing, also, and
they each suck down big glasses. Namjoon’s mom hears them and comes out from her office, no
longer in her business clothes.

“Have fun?” she asks.

Namjoon nods, smiling so that he gets dimples, and Seokjin says, “Yep.”

After Seokjin leaves, Namjoon’s mom nods at him resolutely. “Well, I’m glad you two had a nice
time,” she says.

“We did, actually,” he says, like he’s confirming that to himself.

“He seems like a nice kid,” she says. “His parents are a nightmare, but I think it’s good that you’re
talking to him.”

Namjoon agrees. He doesn’t think he and Seokjin can ever be close, exactly, but he actually
doesn’t mind the guy. He’s got a very different way of behaving when nobody else is watching.
Seokjin works hard to impress everyone, to come off a certain way, like he’s mature and stoic and
 smart, but increasingly when he’s with Namjoon he drops that act and just seems like a person.
Namjoon almost feels lucky that he’s getting to see that side of him. He hates the kid he punched,
he hates the junior class president, the kid who walks around school with other prim kids and
buddies up with all his teachers. But, Namjoon’s not sure he really hates Seokjin.

Chapter End Notes

hello i am chronically bad at titles so i took a lyric from this which applies because i
used to dance to it in shorts in 2011 and thats the vibe i'm going for here

i don't know how many chapters this will be but i'll try to update regularly

love u
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Seokjin fiddles with his food. He’s not really hungry; he rarely is at dinnertime. Something about
being watched so closely makes him feel like he’s making a mistake no matter what he does. So he
does nothing.

“Seokjin, get your elbow off the table,” says his mom in a low voice.

He does. The table is near-silent for a few moments as his dad cuts his meat, takes a bite, chews,
swallows, takes another, and finally speaks.

“Met the new assistant today,” he grunts.

“How was that?” asks his mom.

His dad nods his head like he’s thinking about it. “I’m not sure yet. He looks weak.” Seokjin
cringes. His dad goes on. “He’s got a wormy voice. But he comes highly recommended, so we’ll
see.”

It goes silent again, everyone taking dainty bites for a few moments, except Seokjin’s dad, who
eats like he’s allowed to.

“Did you get your test scores back today, Suhyeon?”

Seokjin’s little brother shakes his head. “I didn’t. They say it takes three weeks.”

“Quite a wait, isn’t it?” says Seokjin’s dad tensely, somehow judgmental of the time it takes to
grade standardized tests and have the results sent back.

“Sorry,” says Suhyeon.

Seokjin’s dad grunts; maybe it’s forgiveness. “Did you go to your science group today?”

“Of course,” says Suhyeon indulgently. “We’re building robots.”

Seokjin’s dad is piqued. “Tell me more?”

“Well, I’m building a remote-controlled one now. He’ll have wheels and I’ll be able to turn him
and change his speed and make him move in forward or reverse.”

“Impressive,” says Seokjin’s dad.

“And,” continues Suhyeon, “I think the teacher might let me modify him even further, if I keep
doing well.”

Seokjin’s dad nods once. “Keep up the good work, son.”

More silence.

“How about you, sweetie?” he says to Seokjin’s mom with no trace of warmth.
She finishes chewing quickly. “I’m fine, thank you,” she says.

“Your day? What did you do?”

She takes a breath. “Suhyeon and I worked on algebra and when he was at his science group I
tidied up around the house.”

He grunts.

Silence.

He doesn’t look at Seokjin. Seokjin asks, “May I be excused?”

“No,” says his dad. “We’re all still eating. Be a part of the conversation.”

Seokjin almost laughs, but catches himself.

His dad goes on. “We haven’t had family dinner in almost a week.” He’s still scolding even though
Seokjin isn’t trying to leave anymore.

“Okay. Sorry,” Seokjin says to his plate.

“I never heard how it went with that ratty kid. On Saturday.”

Seokjin’s mom huffs quietly but doesn’t say anything. Seokjin says, “He’s not so bad, really.”

His dad scoffs. “He’s not so bad?” he mocks. “He’s dangerous. He’s a dangerous kid. He doesn’t
understand consequences.” He takes a drink of his water and continues. “I think it’s nice that you
went to his house, but you don’t need to make him feel better about what he did.”

“What?”

“It’s good that you let him apologize and you made peace. That’s a smart way to behave. But he’s
no good. And his mother’s a piece of work, isn’t she?”

Seokjin clenches his jaw.

“No wonder he acts out, with parents like that. I wonder what his father’s like.”

Seokjin focuses on breathing.

“Well?” snaps his father, looking for a reaction. “How was it? Did you have fun?” he says it
mockingly.

Seokjin takes a steadying breath. His voice is weak when he says, “I had a nice time.”

“What did you do?”

“He showed me his books. And we went on a walk.”

His dad’s voice goes low. “I thought I told you to stay at that house?”

Seokjin realizes his mistake right away and knows he can’t lie to fix it. So, “Sorry,” he says. “The
weather was nice.”

“Hmm,” says his dad. “Well, you’re excused.” It’s short and final and Seokjin is very ashamed. He
clears his plate deliberately, keeping his face blank and his hands steady.
In his room, he cries, just a little. He doesn’t really know why.

He calms himself. He’s got things to do, all the time, and there isn’t space in his schedule for this.
He grabs the textbook for his practice exams off his desk. He finds his iPod in a fold of his bed and
tries to find his headphones. They’re not near his iPod, which is weird because he always wraps
them around it. But that’s not too out of the blue, he gets spacey and forgets things pretty
frequently. It’s a fault of his.

He looks in all his desk drawers, practically strips the bed, looks under it, upturns his backpack,
checks his pockets, and doesn’t find them.

He knocks on Suhyeon’s door. He hears him in there, but no one comes to open it.

“Suhyeon?” he says, quietly enough that he probably can’t be heard from downstairs, where his
parents are watching the news.

No answer. So he cracks the door and sees Suhyeon at his own desk, unable to hear because he’s
using Seokjin’s headphones.

He strides across the room and taps Suhyeon on the shoulder. His brother startles, looks up at
Seokjin and gets a look of guilt on his face for about half a second. Then it transforms into
something more like mirth.

“Can I have those back?” asks Seokjin. “You didn’t ask if you could use them. I need them.”

“You need them?” says his brother. “These ones are mine.”

“No, yours were red, and mine were blue. You can’t have those.”

“These are mine,” Suhyeon says again, assertively.

Seokjin huffs. “Please, Suhyeon? You know those are mine.”

“They’re mine.”

Seokjin makes to just grab them and go, but Suhyeon yells. “Ouch! Seokjin! That hurt!”

Seokjin is aghast. He looks at Suhyeon with every bit of betrayal laid bare, and even then he can
hear his dad coming up the stairs.

He barges into Suhyeon’s room and fixes Seokjin with a glare. He doesn’t even ask, doesn’t even
think to wonder what really happened. He just snaps at Seokjin. “What are you thinking?” It’s
rhetorical. “Go to your room,” he says, so he does, and his dad follows him.

Seokjin sits on his bed, looking at the floor, but his dad stands over him. “Don’t ever lay a hand on
your brother again,” he says in that low voice that’s scarier than yelling.

Seokjin goes to defend himself but his dad cuts him off before he can get a word in. “You’re
grounded until the weekend. Violence had better not become another problem with you.”

Seokjin wants to laugh and cry and scream all at once. Violence, he said, like Seokjin is so violent.
Like Seokjin is doing violence, like he isn’t being treated violently. And another problem, as if not
being as good at math as his 13-year-old brother is a behavioral issue, as if Seokjin’s got so many
problems. His dad’s just mad at him because he’s not interested in soccer. But he’s got Suhyeon
for that. He’s got Suhyeon for everything, and that’s the problem. He doesn’t need Seokjin
anymore.

“So, no apology?” says Seokjin’s dad, disgusted. “Look at me.” Seokjin does, and he knows he’s
got tears standing in his eyes that make him look even weaker than normal. Being weaker is being
worse. “I’m sorry,” he says, because there’s nothing else he can say.

It seems like he hasn’t done well enough, but he’s always so backed into a corner that there’s no
way to say or do the right thing.

His dad leaves, and Seokjin tries to study without music.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Jisoo elbows him playfully in the ribs, but it startles him so much that he
jumps.

He tries to laugh it off. “Yeah, really good. Sorry. Late night working on practice exams.”

“I’ll say,” says Jisoo. “You were barely there at student council.”

Seokjin shrugs. “Not like we have a say in anything important,” he says.

Jisoo is taken aback. “What do you mean?” he says, “We voted on the venue for prom? And
whether to get the basketball team new uniforms or redo the tile in B hall. We’re allocating budget,
what we say is important.”

Seokjin somehow feels like none of that matters, even though a month ago he’d jump at the chance
to retile B hall. But his recent trash punishment has led him to believe that there are bigger
problems at this school than whether prom is held in the gym with extravagant decorations and a
hired DJ, or in a hotel ballroom on a tight budget with everyone at the musical mercy of one of the
kids from AV club.

Student council doesn’t get to talk about anything that really matters. Crowded detention, for
instance. Lack of adult supervision at times when it counts. Arbitrary consequences. Seokjin would
care a lot more about student council if he could work on anything below the surface. As it is,
they’re only there to make it look like the school cares about student input. It doesn’t. They’re
glorified party planners.

Seokjin doesn’t want to talk about that, though, least of all with Jisoo, sophomore class president,
son of one of his father’s harder-working and better respected employees. Jisoo doesn’t think about
things before he decides them. So he says, “You’re right. Sorry, I’ve just been tired lately.”

“You should sleep more,” says Jisoo, like Seokjin hadn’t thought of that. Like Seokjin has time to
sleep more, with all his advanced classes, his evening college prep course, and practice exams, and
actual exams, and debate club, and student council, and needing to stay graceful and
unencumbered so that his parents don’t call him weak. He should sleep more, definitely.

He doesn’t know when he started resenting Jisoo. It crept up on him so silently that now, all of a
sudden, walking to the lunch line with him, he thinks he might hate him.

Seokjin’s glum haze grows so that he’s standing in line and can hardly hear the chatter around him
through his own self-pity. He moves up in line slowly with Jisoo, who’s looking at his phone.

Then, something happens. He sees Namjoon across the cafeteria. And something about that makes
him feel a little better. He doesn’t catch his eye or anything, Namjoon is sort of weaving through
people, heading towards a couple guys who look like his friends. They see him and wave and get
up to meet him halfway, and then the three of them go outside together.

Seokjin doesn’t know why that helps. It does, though, it reminds him that there are people out
there who aren’t stuffy and awful but who still have values. Namjoon is interesting. He’s laid-back
most of the time, but still cares a lot about things. Really, he cares so much more than he lets on.
Seokjin has seen the face he makes when he resolves himself to accept any repercussions he has to
in order to uphold what he thinks is right. He’s seen it happen while a fist swings at his face, and he
can’t bring himself to be bitter about that anymore. He thinks that, if he was acting the way his
father acts, or the way Jisoo acts, or the principal, then he probably deserved it. In fact, if he
weren’t so weak, he’d probably have punched a few people by now as well.

Namjoon is just, Seokjin thinks, really cool.

“Why are you staring at that guy?” whispers Jisoo, looking at Seokjin over his phone.

“Oh, he’s the kid I had to do the trash thing with,” he says.

Jisoo nods. “The one who hit you, right? What an idiot.”

Seokjin sighs. “He’s actually not bad when you get to know him.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” says Jisoo.

After the class they have together, Namjoon stays behind to say hi to Seokjin. They haven’t talked
much since they hung out on Saturday; Seokjin chalks it up to some awkwardness that’s risen out
of their sudden change in dynamic. Seokjin isn’t sure if they’re friends, if they’ll hang out again, if
Namjoon thinks Seokjin is as cool as he thinks Namjoon is. If his parents will even let him hang
out with Namjoon again. So it’s weird, and he doesn’t know exactly where they stand, but he had a
really nice time on Saturday so he hopes it’s somewhere good.

“Hey,” says Namjoon, smiling, as they leave the classroom together.

“How’s it going?” asks Seokjin.

Namjoon shrugs. “You know. School sucks. I can’t skip anymore or my mom will hate me, and I
have to get caught up in everything so it’s pretty miserable. I don’t know how people can bear to be
here and pay attention for this long every day. I’m so tired.”

Seokjin laughs. “I relate.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” says Namjoon sympathetically. “Anyway, my friends and I are going to subway
after school. Do you want to come?”

Seokjin makes a tiny squeaking sound that he hopes Namjoon doesn’t hear. What a nice thing, to
be thought of. Unfortunately, he can’t. “I have to go straight home. I’m grounded.” He says it like
he’s poking fun at himself, but Namjoon’s brow furrows.

“What happened?”

“Misunderstanding,” is all Seokjin says.

Namjoon leaves it. “Okay, well. Next time, then.”

“Sure, next time.”

“Alright, I’m this way,” says Namjoon, splitting off down the hall. “Talk to you later!”

“See you,” says Seokjin, smiling to himself.

Suhyeon, it turns out, is really good at building robots. He comes home from his science group the
next time with a note from the teacher urging his parents to buy him a list of robotics books. At
such a young age, and with such an avid interest, Suhyeon and his family should work to pursue
this. Even if it doesn't lead to anything later, the academics look good and the skills he learns will
be valuable in other areas as well.

This, Seokjin hears at least six times over the dinner table. It's the only time he's allowed to be
downstairs. But, allowed isn't the right word. He's forced to be there. No one really acknowledges
him, but he can't leave, and it feels like his dad praises Suhyeon to remind Seokjin of something.

The first day he’s not grounded, he tells his parents he’s staying late for tutoring and catches
Namjoon at the exit by the portables.

“What’s up?” he says.

Namjoon looks surprised, but pleasantly so. “Hello. Are you unshackled?”

Seokjin nods. “Yep. What are you doing right now?”

“Nothin’. Just going home. Wanna come over for a few?”

Seokjin thinks about it for a minute. “I have to be back at four. Is that enough time?”

“Sure, we could have a snack and come back. It’s something to do.”

That sounds perfect. “Yeah, let’s,” he says.

So they do, and Namjoon’s mom is home, and Seokjin initially tries to hide from her, but she
seems glad to see him and tells him he’s welcome anytime. Which is so nice to hear that it hurts.

They walk back and Namjoon waits around with him until four.

A few days later, walking with Jisoo to lunch, Seokjin spots Namjoon with the same two friends
from before. They’re talking, but Namjoon’s sort of just there with a worn-out paperback open on
his knee.

He looks up from what he’s reading, though, and sees Seokjin. For a minute, Seokjin is
embarrassed to have been caught looking, but Namjoon’s face lights up and he waves hello.
They’re too far away to exchange greetings without yelling, so Seokjin just waves back and returns
the warm smile.

“It’s so weird that you’re friends with him,” says Jisoo offhandedly as they walk away.

This wipes the smile off Seokjin’s face right away. He doesn’t like being called weird. He used to
 get that a lot, when he was a kid with thick glasses who didn’t know how to talk to people. He still
gets it more than he likes. There’s no way to escape criticism.

So, he says nothing, but a worry that’s been sitting quietly in his stomach blooms a little bigger.
He’s used to feeling like he’s being watched under a microscope, so this isn’t new. Every move he
makes earns him a snide comment from someone. But he gets a weird dull ache whenever someone
notices that he’s talking to Namjoon. It’s like he’s doing something he shouldn’t, but he can’t place
what it is. Obviously Namjoon has different ideas than he’s used to, and Seokjin knows he’s not
hiding very well that it’s got him thinking, too. But he’s not ashamed of that.

Then, what is he ashamed of? Why does he feel like looking at Namjoon is breaking a rule?

He’s not sure. But he’s already in so much trouble for everything else. He wonders if he shouldn’t
try to get things more in order before taking on a friend like Namjoon.

But, since he’s not sure what he should do anymore, and since there’s really no way for him to ever
please anyone, he thinks that maybe he should just do what he wants to do for once.

So, he tells his parents he’s staying late, meets Namjoon by the portables, and they go to his house
for snacks.

Chapter End Notes

sorry for this chapter. im just as offended as you are

 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

boys being bad

Namjoon likes his friends just fine, but they talk about the same things all the time. Lately, he
doesn’t have much to say to them, so he just reads and they talk over his head. But every day at
lunch, Seokjin walks past Namjoon and his friends with the same guy, and every day, they wave
hello to each other. Seokjin looks supremely uncomfortable next to his friend. Namjoon is bored of
his. So, he thinks there’s a pretty simple solution to the problem that they both seem to be having.

When normally they’d just acknowledge each other, nod their heads or wave a little, today
Namjoon walks up to the pair and says, “What’s up?”

Seokjin’s friend looks offended, and really, Seokjin doesn’t look like himself either. He’s not the
tense, snotty-faced kid that Namjoon first met, he’s just meek and silent as his friend looks
Namjoon up and down like he’s waiting for him to say something that will be worth his time.
Namjoon doesn’t really care for that, so he looks past the friend at Seokjin and says, “You wanna
sit with me?”

Rather than pleased, Seokjin looks terrified. Namjoon frowns a little, trying to figure it out. He
thought this was simple. Namjoon and Seokjin have been hanging out twice a week after school. In
fact, they’ve been hanging out so much, and both of them have so much work to do, that they’ve
stopped going to Namjoon’s house every day and sometimes they hole up by the football field and
actually do their homework. Which works in both of their favors, as Namjoon’s really good at
writing and Seokjin’s caught up in precalc. They help each other. So it shouldn’t be weird to sit
together at lunch.

Yet, Seokjin clearly doesn’t want to, so Namjoon shrugs, says, “Alright,” and goes back to read a
book while his friends chat around him about video games.

It doesn’t hit him until later that Seokjin acted that way because he’s ashamed.

Namjoon shouldn’t be as surprised as he is.

Of course, it makes sense when he thinks about it. They hang out after school, they hang out off
campus. Seokjin’s going through a lot; Namjoon knows that even though he doesn’t really talk
about it. But it’s not really fair that he’s ashamed to know Namjoon.

Like, he gets it. His clothes aren’t new and he’s got a slouch and people think he’s stupid and rude.
He doesn’t really care about that stuff, because this school and the people in it don’t matter to him.
But, actually, Seokjin sort of mattered to him for a minute there, and it sucks that that’s not
reciprocated.

Namjoon gave him snacks. They talked about poetry. Namjoon bought Seokjin a slurpee with his
allowance money the other afternoon. Because apparently Seokjin’s not allowed to have slurpees
and the only money he ever has on him is a credit card that sends a text to his dad every time he
swipes it.
No, they haven’t talked about anything really important, but their conversation comes easy, and
every time Seokjin lowers his guard a little further, Namjoon feels like he likes him more. He was
right when he thought that he might like Seokjin, the real Seokjin, the person who lives inside the
iron case that he’s built around himself. He was right when he thought he was lucky to see what
Seokjin is really like. Seokjin is very funny under there. He’s clever and witty, quick and playful.
It’s not hard to get him to smile when he’s relaxed. He’s actually a really warm person.

He gets that it’s hard for Seokjin, he really does. But despite everything, he’s not about to be
friends with someone who won’t even acknowledge him when other people are around. That’s not
who he is.

So, the next day at lunch, he ignores Seokjin when he walks by, and after math class when Seokjin
tries to stay and wait for him, he brushes by and doesn’t say anything.

His mom notices how upset he seems, and he just says he’s stressed over having to make up so
much work to bring his grades up.

“Sorry you’re stressed, Joonie, but you know I’m proud of you for getting it together, right?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“You’re working really hard. And maybe this will be a good lesson. If you work hard all year next
year, you won’t be stuck scrambling like this at the end.”

Namjoon nods. She’s right, and she’s so nice. He’s been thinking about that a lot lately. Seokjin
said something once, about how lucky he is to have a mom like her. He knows he is, but the
reverence in Seokjin’s voice had made Namjoon really look at it. He tried to think back to a time
that he was in real trouble, and the only thing he can think of is the time a few years ago when he’d
used his mom’s credit card to buy three rap CD’s online. That was the last time he’d ever done
anything major to breach her trust, and the last time he’d lied. She looked so hurt, betrayed really,
and he got a sense that he was being grounded mostly because she couldn’t look at him. He’d had
to work off the cost with chores and they’d had a long talk about trust and stealing and how they
only have each other so they have to always think about each other. He didn’t even want the CD’s
when they came.

Seokjin gets a look when Namjoon’s mom’s around that he can’t really explain. It’s made him see
his life differently. So, he decides to tell her what’s really bugging him, because she cares about
him and his problems and he doesn’t have to lie or stay silent and he should appreciate that.

“Seokjin ignored me at school yesterday,” he says.

“Hmm,” she says, disgruntled. “That sounds hurtful.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It sucked. I don’t think he wants to be seen with me.”

She sighs long like she’s thinking hard. “I wouldn’t be surprised about that,” she says. “He’s got a
lot going on, doesn’t he?”

“But he shouldn’t do that, right?”

“No, he shouldn’t. He’s not really your friend if he’s like that.”

Namjoon is quiet. It makes him sad to think that maybe Seokjin isn’t a real friend, even though
they aren’t even very close. Seokjin is just a lot more interesting than his other friends. He thinks
they get along better.
“But, from what I’ve seen, he cares about you. So give him some time to come around. Be open to
him. If you feel open to talking with him, he’ll know. I think he’s a very sensitive person, he picks
up on little things. So just,” and she takes a deep breath and does a flowy hand motion to
demonstrate being serene and open, “Just be calm around him and he’ll come to you.”

Namjoon doesn’t know if he believes in that energy stuff, but his mom’s really good with people,
better than he is, so she’s probably not wrong.

Leaving himself open doesn’t wield immediate results, though, and Namjoon’s impatient. Seokjin’s
got his stern, intense face back on in math class and doesn’t even make to look at Namjoon for a
few frustrating days. Namjoon sort of wants to drag him aside and say stop being a dick, but the
last two times he did that they ended up hitting each other, so he’s trying a different approach. He
thinks positive thoughts and gives Seokjin a lot of space to come say hello. In the meantime, he
gets used to the idea that he might only have Wonwoo and Mingyu to keep him company for the
next four years, and supposes that’s fine, too.

He doesn't, it turns out, have to hang out with them for the rest of his foreseeable life. After school,
at the parking lot by the portables, like so many other unglamorous times, Seokjin catches up to
Namjoon, breathless, and says, timidly, “Hi.”

“Hi,” says Namjoon, slowly, almost like he’s talking to a cat who might get spooked if he’s too
loud or sudden.

Seokjin scratches an elbow. “So,” he says.

“So,” agrees Namjoon.

“I’m sorry,” says Seokjin quickly, like he's been thinking about it and just wants to get it out.
“About the other day. I didn’t know what to do. That guy’s dad works for my dad. I can’t just do
whatever I want when he’s around.”

Namjoon shrugs. It's good to hear that Seokjin's sorry, because he should be. He’s still upset, but
he’s been cold, too, so he’s as gentle as he can be. “I don’t need friends who don’t want to be seen
with me. I have other friends, so if you don’t want to know me, that’s how it is.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” says Seokjin quickly, like that’s the furthest thing from his mind, and that
comforts Namjoon a little. They’re auto-piloting off campus toward Namjoon’s house. “It’s just
that I can’t do whatever I want.” he repeats it like he’s convincing himself.

“Why do you keep saying that? You can.”

Seokjin groans. “You can do whatever you want. Your mom doesn’t hate you.”

“I’m sure they don’t hate you,” says Namjoon, a little horrified.

“No,” agrees Seokjin, mild, “They don’t, but I’m basically in trouble every time I breathe.”

Namjoon hums. “I’m really sorry,” he says first, and means it. “However, I think that, if you’re
going to be in trouble either way, you might as well just do what you want.”

“No, I could never.”

“Maybe if you stop trying so hard, they’ll just give up.”

Seokjin blanches. “If they give up on me, I have nothing.” He’s terror-stricken.
Namjoon shrugs. He gets that it’s really hard for Seokjin. He shouldn’t be doling out advice when
he doesn’t really know what he’s going through. Still, he thinks that in that situation he’d have
gotten angrier rather than more placid. Then again, Seokjin might well still be angry.

“How do you do what you want?” asks Seokjin vaguely, after a moment.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, how do you know when what you want is what’s right, and not just what you want?”

That’s a different question than the first one, but Namjoon understands it a little better. “Hmm,” he
thinks. “I know the difference because if it’s right, I’ll do anything. If it’s just something I want, I
don’t care enough to stand up for it.”

“What was it when you hit me?”

Namjoon looks away shamefully. “Well. Not to be rude,” he starts, sort of flustered.

“No, I deserved it,” says Seokjin squarely.

Namjoon lets out an airy laugh. “Okay, well, then. I think that was what was right. You insulted
me.”

Seokjin’s a little timid and self-conscious as he says, “I’m sorry for doing that. You’re not stupid.”

“I know. Thank you. I accept.” Namjoon says this easily and flashes a wide dimpled grin.

“I’m sorry I called you a loser, also. That was so mean,” he says, as if just remembering that he’d
done that and finding it abhorrent. “And,” he finishes, “I’m sorry for ignoring you at lunch. It’s
good to know you. So I’m sorry for messing up so many times and I’ll try to be better in the
future.”

Namjoon’s warmed by that. It’s probably the barest display of emotion he’s seen from Seokjin so
far, even though he still said it quite stiffly. He must feel really bad. He must have been thinking
about it. Namjoon tries to convey how much he means it when he says, “It’s okay. It’s definitely
okay. It’s good to know you, too.”

Seokjin heaves a content sigh and smiles to himself. “I should break a rule sometime,” he says.

“You’re breaking one now, right? You’re supposed to be at tutoring?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been skipping so much that I almost forgot.” He clears his throat. “I wonder
what my parents would think if they knew I was doing this.”

“They can’t stop you from doing something you’ve already done,” Namjoon shrugs.

“You’re right.” Seokjin kicks a stick on the path with a canvas sneaker and Namjoon answers by
crunching it under a tired combat boot. Seokjin says, “What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever done
without asking? That you’re glad you did?”

Namjoon thinks for a minute, then it comes to him. “Piercing my ears,” he says. “My mom would
have said no. So my friend looked it up on youtube and we did it at his house.”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open. “What?” he says. “You just did it? Isn’t that dirty?”

Namjoon shrugs. “Not really. It’s pretty easy to sanitize stuff. I wouldn’t have trusted him if it was
like my nose or something, but ears are easy. It didn’t even hurt.”

“Really?” says Seokjin. “It doesn’t hurt?”

“I mean, a little,” Namjoon amends. “Here,” he says, grabbing Seokjin’s arm and pushing up the
sleeve of his jacket.

Seokjin makes a little noise and squirms but doesn’t try to get out of Namjoon’s grip. “What are
you doing?”

Namjoon flips Seokjin’s arm over so the paler inside is showing, and says, “I’m gonna pinch you.”
He waits for Seokjin to give him a confused affirmative, and then he does. Hard, clearly way
harder than Seokjin was expecting.

Seokjin yelps. “Why did you do that?” he hisses, but he still doesn’t pull away.

“That’s how much it hurts,” says Namjoon nonchalantly, smoothing Seokjin’s sweater back down
and giving him back his arm. “So, not a lot.”

Seokjin understands. There’s something sparkling in his eyes. “That’s cool,” he says slowly,
rubbing through the pale blue fabric of his jacket at the sore spot. “I always wanted to get an ear
pierced.”

Namjoon makes an interested sound. “Just one?” he leads.

“Hmm, yeah,” says Seokjin self-consciously. “Just one.”

Namjoon nods. Something about the way Seokjin’s looking at him makes him think he should say,
“We should do it.”

“No,” says Seokjin, but the sparkle doesn’t leave his eyes. “I can’t.” He smiles a little.

Namjoon plays along. “Why not?”

“You know why,” he says, but it’s kind of low, and it’s obvious that he’s thinking about it.

They’re walking up the front step of Namjoon’s house. “Maybe,” says Namjoon, answering
something Seokjin hasn’t said. “But maybe not. You’ll never know if you don’t go for it.” He digs
for his key, unlocks the door and they go inside. The lights are off; the kitchen is dim except for
the pale light through the windows. It’s cool inside. Namjoon’s mom isn’t here. “Perfect,” he says
to himself, flipping on the kitchen light. Then, to Seokjin, “I’m only saying you should do this
because you clearly want to. And I know how, and we have twenty minutes. So decide.”

Seokjin still looks apprehensive, but Namjoon’s already in the bathroom rifling through the cabinet
for rubbing alcohol and cotton balls. “Hoop or stud?” he calls to the kitchen, where Seokjin stands
awkwardly.

He peeks his head out the door and sees that Seokjin looks scared, and like he isn’t having fun, so
he lets up. This is his thing, not Namjoon’s, and the only reason Namjoon’s being so adamant is
that Seokjin needs encouragement. He’s not trying to pressure anybody into doing anything.
“Sorry,” he says. “I wouldn’t make you—“

“Stud,” says Seokjin quickly. He’s clearly surprised at himself, but instead of backing down, he
breaks into a laugh that he covers with a hand.
Namjoon grins too. “Alright!”

Fifteen minutes later, they’re walking back to school, and Seokjin is too giggly and bubbly to be
afraid.

Namjoon likes this side of him so much. He’s smiling more than not, and looks almost relaxed,
walking easily with his bag slung over one shoulder.

“I thought you were lying when you said it wouldn’t hurt!” he says again, beaming. “But it really
didn’t. I’m excited.”

“Good, me too,” says Namjoon, and means it. He’s excited about this grin that he’s been able to
catch.

Seokjin’s so content. “I don’t even care what happens,” he says. “I don’t even care. It’s done, you
know? And it looks so good, right?”

“Yeah, really good,” says Namjoon, who’s mirroring Seokjin’s infectious smile.

“So good. So it was a good idea. Fuck, this is awesome.”

Namjoon mocks surprise. “Did you just swear?” he asks, like Seokjin’s done something very off-
limits.

Seokjin laughs. “I swear, okay?”

“Hardly!” argues Namjoon emphatically. “Name one time.”

Seokjin pretends to think very hard about it. “Once, a very long time ago, I said,” and he leans in
close to Namjoon’s ear and whispers, “Crap.”

Namjoon gasps. “Not crap!”

Seokjin’s dead serious as he confirms the very worst. “Crap.”

They’re back at the school now, and they’re still trying not to grin when they get to the spot where
they wait for Seokjin to get a text that says his mom's in the parking lot.

As the time approaches, he gets visibly more anxious, but when Namjoon gives him a questioning
look, he says, “I’m okay.”

When Seokjin gets the text, he takes a deep breath, brings Namjoon in for a quick hug, and goes.

For the rest of the day, Namjoon feels weird and distracted. He goes back home and tries to do his
homework but he’s thinking about something else. He doesn’t even know what, really. Seokjin,
mostly, probably. He’s worried about him. He doesn’t think what they did is bad, but he knows his
parents will think it is. At the time, it felt like they were doing something fun together, but now he
wonders if he might have pressured Seokjin into doing something that will get him grounded for
the rest of his life. He hopes that doesn’t happen. Grounded Seokjin is so sad and quiet.

There’s something else, too. It’s a weird, small thing, but he can’t shake it. When he was that close
to Seokjin’s face, tilting his head and lightly holding his jaw to steady him, he had noticed
something about him. Seokjin is really handsome.

He hadn’t really noticed before. He hadn’t been looking. Maybe Seokjin just looks good when he’s
happy, or maybe it hit Namjoon slowly. Either way, something small shifted for him when they
were that close. Seokjin has really pretty eyes and really big, perfect lips.

Also, he gave Namjoon a hug when he left. That’s the first time they’ve done that. It’s not a big
deal, Namjoon touches people easily and gives a lot of hugs, and this one with Seokjin was quick.
The thing about it was that it made narrow-framed Namjoon well aware of how broad Seokjin is.

So now he feels weird and sort of bad. Seokjin’s not a good person to be attracted to. There’s too
much involved in that for it to be anything but stressful, complicated, ultimately disappointing. It
doesn’t feel good for even a moment. Any twinge of blissful attraction he feels when he thinks
about the soft curve of Seokjin’s jaw or his flawless skin is met doubly with dread. By dinner he’s
got a stomachache.

He doesn’t tell his mom what’s wrong this time, when she asks. It feels too disgusting to put into
words. He doesn’t even know what it is. Does he have a crush on Seokjin? He doesn’t know if
he’d say that. He values Seokjin as a person, and also gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach when
he thinks about how he’d brushed his hair out of the way before piercing his ear. Namjoon likes to
see Seokjin smile. He feels horrible and wants to bury himself in the forest.

So, he tells his mom he’s just got a lot of work to get done tonight, and she doesn’t seem convinced
but lets him be, and he goes back to his room right after dinner and tries his best.

Namjoon is very apprehensive to see Seokjin at school the next day. It’s been eating him, and he
half-expects to get a talking to for pressuring Seokjin into doing something that was clearly a
terrible, awful, ill-advised idea. He expects the very worst. Maybe he won’t see Seokjin at all,
maybe ever again; maybe he’s going to be homeschooled again so he can’t be influenced by bad
people anymore. Maybe he’s getting shipped off to boarding school. Maybe he’s dead.

Namjoon’s racing thoughts are stilled, however, when Seokjin finds him at the short break in the
morning, sitting with his two friends, staring off into the distance while they talk because he’s too
worried to read. He plops right down next to Namjoon against the tree, easy and calm, and smiles
at him. Namjoon notices there’s still a glint of silver in his ear.

“Hey,” he says to Namjoon while his friends look on confusedly.

“You seem happy,” is all Namjoon can say when faced with the reality of Seokjin’s physical
presence.

Seokjin hums. “I am.”

“So, you didn’t get caught?”

“Oh, I did,” Seokjin says without any anxiety. “Of course I did.”

Namjoon’s confused at how Seokjin can be saying this with such a mirthful tone. “Is it okay?”

“Mhmm,” lilts Seokjin. “My dad saw it first. He was like, what’s that, and I was scared for a
minute, but my mom said that she’d taken me to get it. Which surprised me, but she played along.
He didn’t seem happy, but you can’t make him happy. Afterwards she pulled me aside and was
like, I hope you know you’re still in trouble young man, this isn’t over, but I don’t think I really
am.”

“Oh my god,” says Namjoon, impressed. “That’s the best.”

“Yeah. So, I guess people don’t really care.”

“Nope,” agrees Namjoon, but he wants to say that he cares. “Well, I’m glad we did that.” The
anxiety in his stomach that built and curdled last night is dissipating quickly with Seokjin sitting
here, talking to him as easily as ever, in great spirits and very happy to see Namjoon.

Seokjin smiles, his eyes crinkling, looking so content. “So am I. I’m glad we did that.” He flashes
his wide, pretty grin at Namjoon again, then checks his phone. “Well, I’ve got to go,” he sighs,
“I’m supposed to be in class early to talk to some people about a group project. But I’ll catch you
at lunch?” He presses up and dusts off his pants.

“Yeah, definitely,” Namjoon says, in a bit of a daze. “See you later.”

His friends raise eyebrows at him but he just digs the tattered book out of his bag and opens it on
the dog-eared page.
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

(vague singing) jin is crying at prom

cw this is a lot of really angsty internalized homophobia so tread carefully if it will

make you sad. it definitely makes me sad. i tried to write it with love

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It’s getting close to prom, and Seokjin’s got to ask someone.

He knows who he wants to ask. Her name is Seulgi and she’s a cheerleader. They’re in writing
class together, and they say hi sometimes. He doesn’t know if she has a date yet, but he thinks
she’d be nice to go with. He feels like she is a sensible person to ask. He’s not very excited about
it.

He wonders when he stopped caring about prom. Earlier in the year, he couldn’t wait. He used to
be so vocal in the student council meetings about it. Now he feels almost like it’s just another
obligation.

Either way, after class one afternoon, he gets properly nervous as he pulls Seulgi aside and says,
“Hello.”

She blinks prettily at him and he thinks she knows what’s coming.

“Do you have a date to prom yet?” he asks, trying to sound solid and steady.

She smiles and shakes her head. “No,” she says quietly, almost like a question.

He takes a deep breath. “Then, will you go with me?” he asks.

She nods, looks so flattered and happy. “Yes. I’d really like that.”

“Great,” he says, feeling jittery from the nerves, but good, really good. “I guess I’ll see you later,
then.” He’s wooden and a little awkward, but she smiles at him like she likes that.

“Sure,” she says, and then they’re at the end of the hall, so they go their separate ways.

That afternoon, he skips tutoring to go to Namjoon’s house, which is so regular to him now that he
doesn’t even realize it’s rule-breaking anymore. It’s just what he does.

“What’s up?” says Namjoon as they head toward his little house together. “How was your day?”

Seokjin hums. “It was good,” he says.

“That’s good,” says Namjoon. “Mine too.”

“I got a date to prom,” says Seokjin quietly. For some reason it feels like he’s admitting something
bad. But that doesn’t make sense, and he’s used to feeling like he’s done something wrong when
he hasn’t, so he ignores it.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a minute, and it seems like he gets stiffer, but Seokjin’s probably
making that up. Especially because, when he does reply, it’s just like nothing’s wrong. “That’s
cool,” he says. “Who?”

“Do you know Seulgi? She’s in my grade.”

Namjoon shrugs. “I don’t think so,” he says. Sighs, almost so small that Seokjin doesn’t notice.
“What’s she like?”

“Hmm,” Seokjin thinks. “She’s pretty. I think she’s smart. We haven’t talked a lot.”

“Why did you ask her?”

Seokjin shrugs, self consciously puts his hands in his jacket pockets. “Because she’s nice and I
need a date.”

“Do you like her?” asks Namjoon, but he cuts himself off almost immediately. “Never mind, that’s
a rude question.”

Seokjin doesn’t know why Namjoon’s being weird, but he feels kind of weird too and he can’t
really shake it. Gently, he says, “It’s okay. And, I don’t know. I don’t think I like her yet. Maybe
we’ll hit it off at prom.” He leaves it at that; knows he won’t hit it off with Seulgi at prom but
that’s not something he should say.

Namjoon only sounds a little defeated when he says, “I hope you do.”

They get to Namjoon’s house quickly. Seokjin’s noticed that Namjoon has this way of walking
very fast when he’s got something bothering him, and Seokjin just has to keep pace because there’s
no slowing him down when he gets this way. Usually, they meander and chat idly on the way, and
only have about twenty minutes at Namjoon’s house before they have to start heading back, but
today they have a whole half an hour.

The air clears, though, and by the time they get back, Namjoon’s complaining about their precalc
teacher and the low quality cafeteria food and how rude and excessive everyone is, just like always.
He’s very opinionated, and always has a lot to say about how things should be, but it’s not
obnoxious like when his dad does it. He often gets this tone of voice that’s distinctly not serious,
and he’s quick to poke fun at himself. “I hate everyone,” he says, and always clarifies, “Myself
included.” Also often clarifies, after a pause, “Actually, not totally everyone.” Then he looks at
Seokjin and blinks and looks away quickly, and Seokjin pretends that simple things like this don’t
make him feel more valued as a person than anything else in his life.

Prom comes quickly between the late nights studying and the final projects and finishing
applications for summer camps and trying to do everything else the way he’s supposed to. His
parents are both happy for Seokjin, and are weirdly accommodating when it comes to prom
planning. They don’t bat an eye at getting him something to wear. Even his dad, who’s been extra
disappointed in him ever since he came home with an earring, seems quietly proud.

On the night, he brings Seulgi a corsage, and they look good together because they talked about
what colors they would wear, though they didn’t go to get their outfits together like some couples.
They still haven’t talked much; it seems like they both feel a little awkward about this whole thing,
but it’s not that they don’t like each other. They just don’t know each other. They’re both on the
quiet side and it’s so awkward to break the ice now that they’re dates. Regardless, they’re both
wearing a nice dark blue, and it flatters Seulgi well, and her hair is curled and pinned up and her
makeup makes her look glowy and bright, and he thinks that if she tries to kiss him later, he’d be
okay with that. It would probably be gentle and sweet, even if it didn’t mean anything to him. He
could pretend it did.

They stay close and dance a little, talking some, and then they go to sit on the sidelines and Seulgi
saves him a spot while he goes to get them drinks. When he comes back, she smiles up at him and
says, “I think my friends are going to be here soon. I want to say hi to them, but I’ll come back. I’m
glad you asked me.”

That makes Seokjin feel good, and he says, “I’m glad I did, too.”

That changes the air between them a little. It gets more comfortable. Seokjin feels the same way,
though most of his friends either aren’t here or are people who he only nominally likes. People
from debate club who sometimes argue too intensely and start getting personal. Student council
members who think they know everything. People from his advanced classes who care about
things that matter less and less to Seokjin with every passing day. He just wants to enjoy himself.
So, he’s glad to spend this evening with Seulgi, even though he keeps having this other quiet
thought.

He wishes Namjoon weren’t a freshman so he could be here. Just as someone who could break the
stiffness. He’s feeling very proper and mild with Seulgi, even when she drags him onto the dance
floor with all her cheerleader friends and their dates and he loses a tiny bit of inhibition. He doesn’t
feel like he can joke with Seulgi, and that’s probably because he hasn’t given her a chance and he
doesn’t know her well, but it’s also because she takes this whole prom thing pretty seriously and
doesn’t see that it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. Seokjin almost laughs at himself
when he has that thought, though. What a Namjoon thing to say. Of course it matters, it’s an
important memory. It’s something he’ll look back at with nostalgia forever. It’s something he’s
been looking forward to for a long time. Namjoon is just bitter because he’s not old enough to
come to prom yet. He’s bitter about a lot of things, especially in the last couple weeks. He’s been
walking very fast and avoiding eye contact. Seokjin has been wondering if something’s wrong, but
he hasn’t brought himself to ask.

At a certain point, Seulgi’s dancing gets more intimate, and Seokjin thinks it’s probably time to
kiss her. That’s what’s been happening around him. The room’s starting to get sweaty and hot, the
music’s getting bassier, and people are starting to get close. Really, as a class president, it’s
Seokjin’s job as much as anyone’s to make sure the conduct stays appropriate, but there’s nobody
watching. No one’s ever watching when anything important is happening. And he’s been having a
good time and he really appreciates Seulgi, so he decides that he should kiss her. The idea gives
him butterflies, because it feels good to be wanted, and because he’s only done this once before so
it’s still very new and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. This is weird and makes him feel
gross, but maybe a good kind of gross. Sticky and anxious, but excited. He leans forward
experimentally, and she easily meets him halfway, like she’s been looking for a cue, and they touch
lips. Hers are soft and hesitant. It’s quick, doesn’t feel complete. Maybe they’ll find somewhere
else to do this. Seokjin feels alright about that. Seulgi’s lipgloss is slippery in a pleasant way, and it
tastes nice, and he thinks she’s a nice, pretty person.

They go to the hallway of the hotel ballroom where prom’s being held. She leads, tugging his
sleeve, and when they get to a good crevice, not private but fairly shielded and away from the
throng, she leans against the wall and waits for Seokjin to come in and kiss her for real.
He’s not good at it, he thinks. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He can’t just let go and let his
body lead him, he’s stuck in a mindset where he has to think hard about everything he does, every
move he makes, and it feels wrong. Not really bad; it’s nice to be close to someone, it’s just not
easy or perfect. It doesn’t last as long as he thinks it would have if he had done it right, and Seulgi
seems a little disappointed, but not upset. Just underwhelmed, which is fine, Seokjin thinks. He’s
underwhelmed, too. She lets him pull back from her, straightens her dress, and wipes around her
mouth with a finger, nail painted dark blue to mass her dress. They go back to the main room to
dance more.

The energy in the room has shifted in the few minutes they’ve been away.

It seems that people are a little quieter, moving a little more stiffly. Not everyone, and the change
isn’t enormous, but it’s tangible for Seokjin, who’s always been very sensitive to these things.

He and Seulgi go back to where her friends are, and he quickly hears about what’s going on.

These two girls, Nayeon and Dahyun, both people he’s had classes with before, have come
together, as dates. Which isn’t unheard of, people who are just friends, people of the same gender
come as dates a lot. Couples tickets are cheaper. You don’t actually have to be a couple to buy
them, that’s not a rule. But it’s clear that these two girls haven’t come as friends. They are here
together. They’re not holding hands like friends hold hands; they’re on the other side of the dance
floor, off to the side, and there are a lot of bodies in between him and them but when he does catch
a passing glimpse of them, they’re holding hands like lifelines. Their jaws are set. They look
happy, but scared. They’re here together. And people are looking at them.

Though people are looking, nothing stops or slows down and nobody is rude to them. That’s a
relief to Seokjin, who feels very tense all of a sudden. He doesn’t hear much about them, either,
except a passing comment from one of Seulgi’s friends, who asks, “are they really dating?”
Nobody is totally sure, but Seokjin thinks they are. They look like they are. They join the dance
floor eventually and they hold each other closer than he’s doing with Seulgi.

They’ve got a lot of friends here, a big group of girls, and they get to really dancing and having fun.
Seokjin’s met a few of their friends, and really likes them all. They’re all sort of artsy and
opinionated; some of them have had interesting things to say in classes he’s had with them, though
none of them have ever really given him the time of day. He thinks Nayeon and Dahyun are in
good company, and they’re very lucky to have such a big group of friends who seem unsurprised
by them, used to it even. So, they’re having fun, but Seokjin knows he’s not the only person
stealing glances. Though, he thinks he’s probably the only person stealing glances out of jealousy.

Seulgi notices him looking and stands on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Kinda gross, right?”

Hearing that gives Seokjin a physical jolt. Suddenly, Seulgi’s closeness, and the fruity taste of her
that lingers in his mouth are bitter, and he wants to push her away, but he doesn’t. He has to stay
calm, smooth, normal. This sucks, and there’s no way he can reply. He could stand up for them,
but that might make Seulgi look at him critically, and that’s the last thing he wants, ever, from
anyone. He could say nothing, but that’s almost as bad as defending them. Or he could agree with
Seulgi, say yes, they are gross, and escape all those traps at the expense of any shred of self-respect
he’s ever had.

So he does that. He doesn’t have much self-respect anyway. “Yeah,” he says, in a voice that sounds
oddly raspy, like it’s clear that there’s something caught in his throat, and for a second he thinks
she can tell anyway.

But she can’t tell. She says, “I think they should keep that stuff to themselves, really.”
“Yeah,” he says again, dryly. “They should.”

Now Seokjin feel like he’s in a room full of people who are enemies, and the music is so loud, and
Seulgi’s touch on his back burns, so he says that he needs to go to the bathroom. He leaves, and he
locks himself in the stall and tries to breathe instead of crying. Crying in the bathroom at prom
would be embarrassing, and wouldn’t make good memories for him to look back on forever. So he
can’t do that. Instead, he takes some deep breaths and tips his head back, willing the few standing
tears back into his eyes, and he curbs it. He puts the feelings somewhere else. He knows even then
that it’s not over, that he can only put this on the back burner for a few hours to go out and smile
for Seulgi and dance and drink punch and clap when the king and queen are announced, but he
knows that it is not over.

It isn’t. By the time he’s home, undressed and curled up in bed, he’s groggy and sort of disoriented
from the exhaustion. He thinks Seulgi noticed that something was off, but she didn’t ask. He did a
good job, even though he felt stiff and melty all at once. Prom was almost over anyway, so he just
had to dance a little more, look engaged, try not to look at Nayeon and Dahyun, wait for his mom,
and, on the ride home, pretend that he had a really good time. All he had to do was not let on that
something made him feel like dying. That it’s been the main thought in his head ever since.

Just like he knew would happen, could feel happening, he gets under the covers, finally alone with
no one to please, and immediately starts crying.

It’s a lot. He’s not racked with sobs, he’s just got a steady stream of tears pooling down his face,
into the sheets and the pillow and weirdly down his neck. His breathing is ragged but he’s quiet,
laying there alone, crying alone, feeling very alone in this. Oddly bitter about being alone, because
there’s not a person in this house who he’d want to know an inch of what he’s feeling.

Of course, it’s not just this that he’s alone in. Not just that he couldn’t ever dream of having the
kind of friends that Nayeon and Dahyun have, not to mention their bravery. He feels alone in a lot.
This is just another thing that he has to carry on his own shoulders, by himself, quietly and
gracefully.

He works hard, all the time. His heart isn’t in it. He’s lonely and hates everything he’s working
towards. He has no interest in law, but it’s his family’s business, and it’s already looking like
Suhyeon’s going to be a scientist or something, so it’s still Seokjin’s mantle. No matter how much
his parents have disliked him for years, increasingly moreso, and no matter how little interest he
takes in it, it’s something that he doesn’t really get to decide if he wants to be a part of his family.
Really, he doesn’t want to be a part of his family, but he doesn’t have another option. He doesn’t
want to be a part of anything they stand for. They’re cold, calculating, ruthless people. They are
very wealthy because they know how to step on other people’s necks to get what they want. They
live in a house that was bought with money that could have been going to people that Seokjin’s
father laid off instead. And that’s fine, for them, but it’s never been something Seokjin’s been able
to relate to. It’s why he’s weak, and it’s why he has never told anyone how he really feels. He’s
soft. He has to work very hard to seem otherwise. He loses either way, because he hates being soft
but he hates everything he’s emulating. He is just a person that he hates.

He can’t believe himself, he thinks, the tears that had started slowing down returning renewed.
He’s curled up on his side hugging a pillow and one side of his nose is starting to clog. He can’t
believe that he just let Seulgi say that about those girls, and that he agreed with her. He is weak, he
is. He did exactly what his father would have done in that situation, but it was not strong, it was
spineless. He should have told her she was wrong. He didn’t, and he’s a coward. No wonder he
never gets what he wants. He can’t even fight for something simple. Something that doesn’t even
really affect him, since he’s not planning on ever talking about it.

He’s a person who he hates, surrounded by people he hates, and he understands why Namjoon
thinks everything is the worst. But Namjoon’s got humor about it, and Namjoon’s also allowed to
be himself. That’s not something Seokjin can afford except in very small doses. He can have his
fun with Namjoon in the afternoons sometimes, think about things and pretend to be bad, pierce his
ear and skip tutoring and swear and say with conviction that there is no God and that people
sometimes have very nice lives if they don’t do what their parents tell them, but that’s not
something he can just be like. It’s not something he’s got the luxury to do, but he’s so fucking
trapped. He catches himself weeping and holds his breath, shuddering out his nose, eyes pinched
shut, until he can trust himself to be quiet. He’s trapped. There’s no way he can be right. So he
doesn’t know what he’s going to do. But it can’t always be crying in bed on nights that are
supposed to be great memories forever.

Seokjin cries until he can’t keep his eyes open, and then he cries with them closed, and eventually
he falls heavily asleep and doesn’t dream at all.

It’s another few days before he even talks to Namjoon again. He’s not there at lunch on Monday,
sitting with his two friends. He asks them if they’ve seen him, and they shrug and go back to
talking before Seokjin’s even turned to leave. He’s not in precalc either, and Seokjin hopes he’s not
skipping. He also really hopes he’s okay. He’s weirdly nervous about it.

Thankfully, on Tuesday, when they usually meet and go to Namjoon’s house, he is there. Seokjin
usually shows up after Namjoon because his last class and his locker are farther away, and he was
worried he wouldn’t wait for him.

Namjoon smiles and says hello and it seems insincere, and Seokjin still feels ragged and empty
from prom, and he doesn’t know what he’s done to bother Namjoon. He feels so bad for whatever
it is, he wants to say that this whole time, the last two weeks and the last few days, he’s been
getting so worried. All he wants is to know what’s bothering Namjoon, and if it’s him, he wants to
be better so that he doesn’t make him ignore him anymore. He wants to make him happy, if he can.
But he can’t say things like that. He doesn’t know how. Instead, he does what he can, and says,
“Hey. I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, sorry,” says Namjoon, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been stressed. Shouldn’t be
skipping, but I can’t fucking handle being here all the time, you know?”

Seokjin also feels like he can’t handle it, but he never skips, so he doesn’t know. He just shrugs.
“Yeah. The last month is kind of bullshit anyway.”

“It’s all bullshit,” says Namjoon, almost stomping, frustrated.

Seokjin agrees with that emphatically. “It is.”

They get to Namjoon’s house and are in his room before they even mention prom. It’s like they’re
both avoiding it, but Seokjin doesn’t know why. They always talk about what they’ve been up to,
they catch up on everything mundane when they hang out. It’s nice, it’s simple, Seokjin doesn’t
feel like he has to hold much back. So it’s weird that they’re avoiding this. Like Namjoon doesn’t
want to know.

Seokjin’s on the floor at the foot of Namjoon’s bed, leaning back into it, and Namjoon’s sprawled
out on top of the covers. Namjoon finally takes a deep breath and asks flatly, “Did you go to
prom?”

“Yep,” says Seokjin shortly. He can’t really bring himself to put any enthusiasm into the word.

“How was it?”

“You know,” says Seokjin. “I don’t think it was as good as everyone says. I won’t remember it
forever. I hope I don’t.”

Namjoon laughs a little. “It was bad? Why, did your date go off with someone else or something?”

“No, not that. She just, well,” and Seokjin takes a huff of breath to try and find words for what he
wants to say. “She’s not a good person, I don’t think. But I didn’t find out until after we kissed.”

“Wait, you kissed her?” Namjoon says, sharp, alert. Then he says like an afterthought, “Congrats.”

Seokjin groans. “I wish I hadn’t. I really don’t like her.”

“Still,” says Namjoon. “Nice job.” He sounds a little lighter, for some reason. “Anyway, other than
kissing someone you don’t like, how was it?”

“I guess it was what I expected. Loud and sweaty and everything.”

“You don’t sound enthused.”

Seokjin huffs. “Prom sucked.” He says it like he’s just realizing it himself. It was’t good at all.
Sitting here with Namjoon, looking back on it, he realizes that he had a straight-up awful time
there. It will be a bad memory for him.

Namjoon makes a noise like he understands, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Even
though he wasn’t there and he doesn’t know what happened, he just gets stuff. Seokjin is actually
so relieved to be here with him, so relieved that their conversation always comes easy even when
they’ve been arguing or ignoring each other. They don’t have to talk about it because as soon as
they get back to talking, they realize it’s still easy and there’s nothing else to say. Friendship with
Namjoon is not hard. He’s so understanding. Seokjin doesn’t want them to ignore each other any
more after this.

Seokjin doesn’t know where the words come from, but suddenly he’s actually telling Namjoon
what happened, like it’s something he’s allowed to say, like it’s something that won’t make
Namjoon upset and probably prove that he’s just like Seulgi and everyone else. But, then again,
Seokjin sort of trusts Namjoon to be kinder than other people. He trusts him not to say something
unless he’s really thought about it first.

“Do you know Nayeon or Dahyun?” he asks. “They’re in my grade.”

“No, but I keep hearing their names. What’s their deal?”

Seokjin’s anxiety seeps into his voice when he says, “They came to prom together. They’re dating
I think.”

It seems like Namjoon misreads the quaver in Seokjin’s voice for spite, or something, because he
gets really snippy right away and practically cuts Seokjin off, propping up on his elbows in his bed
as Seokjin turns around to look at him. “You have a problem with that?” he says. “You know, I
know your family’s values are fucked and all, but you don’t get to be a bigot at my house.”
Seokjin’s voice is really shaky and so are his arms as he swallows the lump in his throat. It’s half
there because Namjoon’s mad at him and he doesn’t like that at all, and half there because
Namjoon’s defending Nayeon and Dahyun, and they’re not even in the same room. All the pride
Seokjin feels in Namjoon for being right is doubled with hatred for himself. Why can’t he just be
imposing enough to call people out when they say mean shit? Namjoon will not compromise an
inch of what he believes, and Seokjin’s in awe, and he deserves to be yelled at, he can’t even be
mad. He’s a bad person.

But, he doesn’t want Namjoon to think he’s a bigot, even though he sort of is one. So, he says, in a
voice that’s starting to break down, like he might cry again for no good reason, “No, it’s not that. I
was really happy for them.”

Namjoon blinks down at Seokjin. “Oh,” he says. “Good. Okay, good. I was going to be really
disappointed if you were a huge homophobe or something.”

Seokjin laughs bitterly, he can’t help it, and of course, because he can’t keep himself together, it
brings tears to his eyes. He tries not to be crying about this, because it’s the most incriminating
thing he can imagine, but he is. And, the worst thing, and the thing that makes it worse, is that the
look Namjoon gives him is full of concern and worry and care, and it makes him dislike himself
even more. He’s never that sweet to people who are suffering in front of him, he’s nowhere near as
good a person as Namjoon is. He can’t believe people think Namjoon’s some delinquent. He’s the
best person Seokjin knows.

“You okay?” is all Namjoon says, though it’s weighty, when Seokjin laughs at himself for being
so stupid. He’s not crying a lot, but he’s got tears on his face and they’re still coming, and
Namjoon looks so concerned.

“I’m okay,” he says, and repeats, “I was just really happy for them.” And then, he doesn’t know
why and he will never know why, but he thinks it’s something like self-sabotage or maybe he’s
stupid or maybe he just knows that if he can trust anyone in the world with this, it’s Namjoon, and
it doesn’t even matter if it fucks up their friendship because he’s not good enough for a friend like
Namjoon anyway, he says, “Because, you know. Me too.”

“You too what?” says Namjoon, still soothing and empathetic, but genuinely confused.

Seokjin doesn’t know how to say it, he can’t say it, so he just says. “Like Dahyun and Nayeon.”

“You’re like… ?” Namjoon starts, and then he gets it, and just sits back and says, “Ah.”

While all the worry in the world smacks Seokjin in the heart like a fucking bus, his stomach
twisting, throat closing, body dying, brain withering, Namjoon just nods his head and says, like
everything is normal and Seokjin hasn’t just told the one secret he promised to keep to himself for
the rest of his life, “Cool, then.”

Namjoon takes a deep breath, like he’s just finishing up adjusting his image of Seokjin, seeing him
as less than he did before. “That’s cool. Anyway. Should we head back? Do you need a tissue?”

Seokjin’s sniffling a little, and he’s so shaky and limp that he’s not sure he can get up yet. He
checks his phone and sees that they still have some time. Almost fifteen minutes, actually. “A
tissue would be good.”

Namjoon gets him one, and comes to sprawl back out on the bed. Tries to change the subject to
something about school, and that actually makes Seokjin really upset again and he’s not sure why.
He should be grateful to get off the topic. Grateful that Namjoon’s continuing on like Seokjin
hasn’t just fucked everything up in the entire world. But he’s not. He wants to be acknowledged.

“Is that really it?” he says.

“What?” says Namjoon distractedly. “I mean, yeah, you’re-“

“Don’t say it.”

“Okay. Well, it’s cool. I mean, am I supposed to throw you a party or something? I don’t care that
much.” He says it like it should be comforting.

“Please don’t throw me a party,” says Seokjin seriously, and he sort of realizes, with Namjoon’s
nonchalance, that most of the backflips and queasiness and earthquakes and shattering glass and
screaming and dying and gore and horror has been in Seokjin’s head, that he’s pretty much been
just sitting there quietly and crying a very small amount, even though his brain’s been on fire, and
Namjoon has no way of knowing how huge this is for him. So Seokjin says, “Nobody knows.”

Namjoon breathes heavy and says, “Ah, okay. Just me.”

“Yeah. So. I don’t know. This feels like a really big deal right now.” Seokjin shouldn’t still be
talking about it, but he is.

“It is,” says Namjoon, sliding off the bed and sitting next to Seokjin on the floor against the side.
“It’s a big deal. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m sorry.”

“No way. Don’t be.”

Seokjin laughs shakily. “Okay.”

Namjoon continues. “It’s a big deal, but you’re still the same to me. Also, good job, and
congratulations. And,” and Namjoon takes a big breath like he’s getting ready to say something
big, “For what it’s worth, me too.”

“What? Are you serious?” Now Seokjin’s floored. Namjoon isn’t weak at all, how can he be?

Namjoon hums. “Yeah, I mean, not completely, I don’t think. I don’t know. But yeah.”

“Why did you let me say all that and you didn’t even tell me?” asks Seokjin, smiling now despite
himself, surprised and not totally sure what’s going on, but thinking it’s good.

“I don’t know,” says Namjoon. “I didn’t wanna take your moment. And I didn’t tell you before
because I thought you might hate it, but also it just hasn’t come up? I don’t know.”

“How can you be so cool?” Seokjin asks, and flushes a little at how forward that sounds. “I mean
like, about this.”

Namjoon shrugs. “I guess I just don’t care.”

“You do too care.”

Namjoon smiles to himself, looking away from Seokjin. “Okay, I care. But I’m used to people
thinking I’m doing offensive shit. And I always have my mom to back me up, so that’s nice.”

Seokjin almost squeaks, “Your mom knows?”

Namjoon shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“When did you tell her?”

“Well, I didn’t tell her, specifically. I just uh.” Namjoon’s getting kind of bashful. Seokjin doesn’t
see that very much. “I just don’t hide things from her. I had a crush on a guy a couple years ago,
and I told her about it.”

“Like it was no big deal?”

“No, it was a big deal, but I didn’t think of like, not telling her.”

“And it was cool?”

“Of course it was. I knew it would be. It doesn’t matter except that she worries. She wants me to
have a good life and she wants everybody to love me. But that’s not possible, and I can hold my
own.”

Seokjin sighs. “You’re really lucky. You know how my family is.”

“Yeah. But you can move out soon, right? You’re almost eighteen, right?”

Seokjin laughs. “No, barely sixteen.”

“Oh, wait? But you’re a junior?”

Seokjin shrugs, grateful for the change of subject, wipes the last of his tears with the tissue
Namjoon gave him. “A lot of homeschool kids skip grades. The early ones are all the same.”

“Here I was thinking you were so much older and wiser and I’m hardly a year younger than you.”

Seokjin can’t help but laugh. Namjoon might be younger, but he is far wiser. He’s so smart and
he’s so right about things. Seokjin likes listening to him. He hopes they can still be friends after
school gets out in a couple weeks. He says, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

He says, “Everything. Understanding. Being my friend.”

The smile that grows on Namjoon’s face is so warm and satisfied. Seokjin can’t help but mirror it.
Namjoon says, “Yeah, thank you too.” Then he looks at his phone and says, “Crap, we actually
need to head back now.”

Seokjin checks his, too. They’re gonna cut it really close if they don’t hurry. So they get up and
they go as fast as they can without really running.

They get there a couple minutes late, but Seokjin doesn’t get the text from his mom until they’re
on safe ground. They have a scare right before they get onto school grounds where a car drives by
that looks just like his mom’s sleek SUV, but it doesn’t stop for them, so they’re safe. When
Seokjin gets the text, he’s still winded, but he’s in the right place, and he goes to meet her smiling
like nothing’s wrong or weird and like he hasn’t just come out to someone for the first and
probably only time in his life.

“Hey,” he says.
“Hello,” she says, and wastes no time before she says, “I thought I just saw you outside the school.
When I was driving up.” The tone of voice she’s got makes it clear that she doesn’t doubt what she
thinks she saw, and Seokjin can’t deny it. He doesn’t try, for enough consecutive seconds that his
mom takes it as admission. “Who was that other kid?” she says, emotionless, like she doesn’t care
enough to be angry, like Seokjin is as frustrating as a basket of dirty laundry or a scuff on the wall.

Seokjin goes to answer, but his mom already knows. She knows everything. Though she doesn’t
work, she’s got a law degree. She doesn’t need to be told things flat-out to deduce them. It’s one of
the scariest things about her. “That kid who hit you, right?” she accuses. “Namjoon? Is that his
name?”

Seokjin says, quietly, “Yes.”

“So you didn’t go to tutoring? Do you ever go to tutoring?”

“Sometimes,” says Seokjin. “Mostly.”

“If I called the school and asked, would they tell me the same thing?”

“No,” says Seokjin. It’s pointless to lie. He always gets caught. He’s stupid.

“Don’t lie to me. You sneak around with Namjoon instead?”

“Yes. Don’t tell Dad.”

She sighs, and looks over at Seokjin for the first time since he got in the car. It’s not an empathetic
look, but it’s not hateful either. It’s more like she’s trying to figure him out. “You’ll never leave the
house again when I tell him.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Then she says something that surprises him. “Jin, I’m going to lie for you.”

“You will?”

“Don’t think you’re in the clear,” she says. “You’re in a lot of trouble with me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry,” but he’s trying not to smile. He might be getting away with something. Again.

“You should be,” she says, eyes back on the road, voice flat and indifferent again. “I’m not going
to keep doing this.” She pinches her lips and lets out a tight breath. “But I realize your father is hard
on you. I’m not going to tell him about this.”

“Okay,” says Seokjin, and then, because he’s oversharing a lot today, “He’s a really good friend.”

“He’d better be,” she says, “if he’s got you skipping.”

“He’s my best friend.”

She lets out a little grunt in response. It’s something she does when she’s trying to agree with
something but also trying to sound judgmental. It’s the friendliest she gets with Seokjin most of the
time. “If he is, I’ll make sure you’re allowed to see him,” she says. “But if you skip anything, ever
again, or do anything like what you did to your ear,” she says that like she really hates it, and he
knows she does, but he doesn’t care, “I’m not going to coddle you. Understand me?”

“Yes,” he says.
“Good. And you’re coming straight home after school for the rest of the year. You can see your
friend at lunch.”

“Okay.”

“But when summer comes you can ride your bike to his house on days when you don’t have
camp.”

“What? Really?”

“Only when your father is at work. And you will obey your father and I, and you will excel at your
camp. That’s the deal.”

“I understand,” says Seokjin, grinning.

“If you mess up, you’re home the rest of the summer. If your father finds out, you’re on your
own.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” she says, coldly, and then they’re quiet for the rest of the ride home.

To: Namjoon

my mom knows I’ve been going to your house after school but don’t freak out

I’m not in trouble? and she says I can hang out at your place this summer????

From: Namjoon

okay weird

are you sure your parents are evil? they don’t sound evil

To: Namjoon

they are evil but I don’t know

my mom’s been weird lately. nicer

From: Namjoon

well you’re welcome at my place whenever

all i’m doing this summer is visiting gma for a week

otherwise im just gonna sleep and read and stir up trouble

 To: Namjoon

cool well. I’ll come along sometimes.

From: Namjoon

sounds great. can’t imagine a better mischief partner.

Seokjin locks his phone and leaves it across the room so it can’t distract him from his homework,
but that doesn’t help. It’s not vibrating or anything, he’s just thinking about it. Thinking about
Namjoon. Getting away with things. Being allowed to do things that he likes. Telling secrets. Not
being worried.

Even though his stomach still hurts from admitting that to Namjoon, there’s this comfort seeping
through him, too. Partly because Namjoon was so understanding, but a lot because Namjoon can
understand. He’s never talked to somebody who can understand before. It’s weird. It’s
empowering. Surprising that Namjoon, who is strong and handsome and cool and interesting,
shares this with him. Because most of the time, when he hears about those people, they’re not like
Namjoon. They’re all more like him. Sad, confused, soft, weak. He’s trying hard to be less like
that.

Really, what’s distracting him is how happy he is to know Namjoon. He’s going to try to be
stronger, and more independent and interesting, so that he can keep up with Namjoon this summer.

When dinner comes, he can’t even bring himself to be upset when nobody talks to him. In fact, he
thinks his father can see that he’s in a good mood, and thinks he’s actively ignoring him to bring it
down. But now that Seokjin can see that, can see how petty he is, and now that Seokjin has decided
to be strong, he can’t bring himself to be put off by it. When he’s criticized for eating too loudly, he
actually laughs into his hand, and instead of being yelled at or chastised, his dad looks a little
embarrassed.

Seokjin doesn’t get much homework done, but he feels more productive than he has in a long time.

Chapter End Notes

love you, sorry

 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

a cute picture for you

Namjoon’s always been particularly fond of summer. He’s sort of sluggish by nature; he likes not
having anything to do, and there’s something about the passing of time in the summer that makes
him feel like there maybe isn’t time, maybe there’s just space for him to move in, thick and heavy
air for him to push through, places to see while the sun beats down on him like it’s so close that he
could grab it.

He’s always liked the lazy, slow way that everything seems to happen when it’s really, really bright
out. It’s simultaneously lush, alive, still. Even the warm breeze through the trees in his
neighborhood feels like it’s isolated, moving with a purpose.

There’s something about the summer that passes not like a series of days, or even one long day, but
like one extended moment where nothing really changes.

Of course, this summer, he’s got growing pains, so change is inevitable. His mom remembers
about his dad that he shot up one summer like a sunflower, she thinks maybe he was younger than
Namjoon is now, maybe fourteen, but Namjoon hasn’t had a growth spurt in a while and he’s due
for another. He’s not as tall as he’s going to be yet; his dad was almost six feet and his mom’s not
tiny either, but he’s still pretty measly as far as things go. So, he welcomes the growing, but it hurts
and makes everything frustrating.

He doesn’t know how long his arms and legs are anymore. Really, he’s having trouble with things
like walking and reaching for things. He’s growing too fast for his brain to adjust to where his
limbs end, and the tiny, tiny discrepancies have turned him clumsy.

He doesn’t really notice how bad it actually is, though, until one day, when he and Jin are riding
around on their bikes and his foot slips off the pedal and he can’t figure out how to make it go back
in time. He hits a curb and eats shit.

It’s really frustrating more than painful. He skins a knee, rips through one of the new pairs of pants
he had to get because his old ones suddenly don’t even go to his ankles. He makes a garbled noise
as he falls. He’s intensely embarrassed.

Seokjin gets off his bike almost aggressively, letting it fall on its side and rushing over to where
Namjoon sits on the curb, catching his breath and grimacing at the scrape on his knee and the palm
of one hand. At least he didn’t get his face, that would be the worst.

“Oh wow, what happened?” asks Seokjin, so concerned.

“Foot slipped, it’s cool,” says Namjoon, trying to sound cool, and stands up. He dusts off the front
of his pants, stretching his leg experimentally, decides he’s fine, and picks his bike back up.

“We should go back and clean that,” says Seokjin, so caring, and Namjoon hates that it’s the fourth
or fifth time today that he’s thought Seokjin was just great.
Namjoon gets back on his bike and says, “Okay, yeah.”

So they go back to the house, and Namjoon’s mom is in the living room with some papers spread
out on the coffee table, working but not really working in that way she does when she leaves her
office as a last-ditch effort to be productive. “Back so soon, guys?” she asks.

“I ate shit,” says Namjoon.

“Poor thing,” she says, starting to get up.

“Oh, it’s okay,” says Seokjin. “We’ve got it, I think.”

She says, “Alright,” trusting, and goes back to scrutinizing her papers while Seokjin and Namjoon
go into the bathroom.

Jin grabs a paper towel and some rubbing alcohol from the cabinet and actually hums and smiles a
little to himself as he works on Namjoon’s knee. He’s glad now, that the pants are ripped, because
he’d have to take them off otherwise and he doesn’t know how that would work. Anyway, he
shouldn’t be thinking about taking off his pants around Jin, because he’s Namjoon’s best friend
and totally off limits. The reason Jin trusts Namjoon is because Namjoon doesn’t make shit weird.
He is a card carrying member of the “doesn’t make shit weird” club. He refuses to let shit get
weird.

The problem with Jin is that even when he’s doing mundane things, like cleaning Namjoon’s torn
up knee, making him sting and actually causing him pain, he’s really great. He’s smiley and warm.
He’s doing this because he cares and wants to help. Also, unrelated, but still important, he’s really
pretty. Namjoon doesn’t know why it took him that long to notice, but now he can’t stop noticing.
He’s very much out of Namjoon’s league as far as looks go. Namjoon’s getting ganglier by the day,
but his face is still round. He’s not sure if he’s going to be handsome when he grows up, but Jin
clearly is. Jin’s so handsome. Jin’s beautiful. Namjoon notices he’s staring when Jin looks up at
him and flashes a quick smile that closes his eyes and feels like affection.

“All done,” says Jin. “Do you need a bandage?”

Namjoon says, “Nah, I think it’s fine. I wouldn’t have even cleaned that if not for you.”

Jin makes a little offended noise. “You have to clean it or it’ll get infected and you’ll die.”

“I’m pretty sure there are some steps between infected scrape and death,” starts Namjoon, but
Seokjin’s looking at him seriously.

“If you die, I’ll miss you, so be careful with your knees,” he says, and then laughs.

Namjoon wants to just hug him. Just make it clear to him how much everything he does is
appreciated. But Namjoon isn’t a sap like that, and he doesn’t make shit weird, so he just chuckles
along.

They ride bikes a lot. So much, in fact, that Namjoon figures out how to do it without ruining his
new, clumsy body. They go to this one coffee shop that Namjoon likes to read in, sometimes they
go to the park or the museum on days when admission is free, and a couple of times, when they’re
really bored, they go to the mall to walk around. The mall is weird, though. A lot of kids from their
school hang out there, and they all want to say hi to Seokjin, and it’s uncomfortable and awkward.
It’s sort of unaddressed between them, what they’ll be like when school starts back up. But,
Namjoon thinks, why does it have to be addressed? They’re friends now and they’ll be friends
then. Besides, there’s no time in the summer. If Namjoon just closes his eyes and lets it stretch
around him, this doesn’t have to end.

One day, they ride their bikes to this orchard, far on the edge of town, where Namjoon’s mom says
she married his dad.

It’s big and beautiful, and Namjoon hasn’t been there in a while. They lock their bikes up in the
parking lot and spend the afternoon walking around.

There are rows of fruit trees that cast welcome shade, and they sit with their backs to one to cool
off after the long ride. They aren’t supposed to pick fruit from the trees, but there are plenty of
perfect oranges on the ground around them, and Jin finds two and hands one to Namjoon. Jin’s
chest is heaving a little and he’s sweaty; his hair is damp and he’s sweat through the front of his
shirt just a little. Namjoon doesn’t know how that makes him feel. Good, he supposes.

They eat their oranges and breathe and drink some water before standing back up and walking
slowly down each row.

It doesn’t take long before they’ve got their hands behind their backs very properly and are
pretending they’re in some historical drama, discussing the lady of the house and the scandals
surrounding her. This really could be another time, Namjoon thinks, the rusty windmill, the huge,
ancient trees that tower near the orchard, the pretty, quaint buildings they’d passed by when
walking from the parking lot and the fountains in the courtyards. This could be anywhere,
anything. But Namjoon’s glad it’s here and now.

He’s wandered off a little when he’s called. “Joon, come here!”

Namjoon smiles when he goes to where Jin’s squatting, clearly looking at something very
important. It’s a ladybug on a perfect green leaf which is attached to a perfectly round, ripe,
hanging orange. He whispers, like bugs care about loud noises. “Look what I discovered?”

Namjoon laughs. “That’s gonna change everything for mankind,” he says, and he reaches out,
planning just to lightly turn the leaf so he can see the pretty bug better, but of course his awkward
hand betrays him and he taps it instead of coaxing it and the bug flies away.

“Oh no!” cries Seokjin. “She’s gone!”

It’s just a ladybug, but seeing Seokjin distraught, even if it’s facetious, is not something Namjoon
likes. “I’m really sorry,” he says. “Sorry.”

Seokjin punches his arm lightly. “It’s okay, Joon,” he says. Then they both look at each other with
something like an unresolved question hanging in the heavy, hot air between them. It’s still for a
moment. Namjoon blinks. Seokjin breaks it first, turning away, laughing lightly, and standing up
before Namjoon can even get properly confused.

Seokjin doesn’t come over every day. He has some weird dumb academic camp on Mondays and
Wednesdays, and he’s got to be with his family on the weekends. So, four days a week, Namjoon
has no idea what to do with himself.

He reads, of course, he always reads, but he feels like it takes him longer to get through pages. A
lot of the days, he doesn’t even get out of his pajamas. That’s how he usually spends his summers,
but suddenly he feels like having nothing to do is a trap rather than something freeing. What is
there to do? He can’t think of anything. He likes doing all the things he usually does with Jin, but
he needs Jin there for them to be fun. It’s too hot to just ride his bike around alone. He needs
motivation to leave the cool, half-dark house.

The weekends are the worst. He and Seokjin text a lot on days when they’re not hanging out, about
almost everything, but it’s not the same. Also, Namjoon worries about him when he’s got to spend
that much time at home. Since they came out to each other, Jin’s been a lot more forthcoming
about how things are for him, and it frustrates Namjoon to think about. It’s not that he didn’t know
things were hard, but it’s different when Seokjin gives him little details. Sort of heartbreaking.
Seokjin knows it’s a big deal, but he’s also way too casual when he says things like, “neither of my
parents have talked to me in two days.”

Namjoon just wants Seokjin to be happy. He can’t think of anybody who deserves it more than
Seokjin does. It’s nice to see him getting more comfortable. Though, he doesn’t always feel good,
and there are some days when he seems haggard and distracted. There are also a few times when
he looks like he might break down, but he always puts on a brave face. He’s good at that. It’s hard
to watch him try to act like everything is alright all the time, but Namjoon doesn’t want to call
attention to it or try to get Seokjin to talk about things when he’s not ready. Seokjin has already
told Namjoon so much more about himself than he’s told anybody else. It’s not Namjoon’s place
to pry.

Sometimes, it’s hard not to get kind of fucked up over it, though. Like, one afternoon, when
Namjoon’s mom is making food for all of them, some stir fry because she says she’s been craving
it, and Seokjin is watching really intently from the entryway, and she sees that he’s interested and
goes, “You wanna help?”

Seokjin laughs nervously and shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I can,” he says.

“Sure you can. In fact, you should. I don’t trust my son in here, but I could really use an extra set of
hands. Want to chop some peppers?”

He nods, and, just like that, Seokjin’s been folded into the lunchtime routine at Namjoon’s house,
and Namjoon’s never seen him look so grateful. And sad. Weirdly sad.

Namjoon does ask about that, later. It’s too hot to go back outside when they’re this full, so Jin’s
laying on Namjoon’s bed and Namjoon’s fidgeting in the rolly chair at his desk. They’ve both got
books, but they’re not really reading. They keep interrupting each other to read quotes, and then
getting sidetracked into other conversations. Seokjin’s reading a book that’s one of Namjoon’s
favorites, so whenever he huffs out a laugh or reacts at all, Namjoon wants to hear about it. So,
they’re not really reading. They’re just waiting until they’ve digested their food enough to go run
around some more.

Namjoon’s stomach makes a particularly squelchy sound, and it sounds really loud in the semi-
quiet room, and they both laugh. “I think that means it was good,” says Namjoon.

“It was good. Your mom is so nice for making us food.”

“You helped her a lot. She appreciated it, I think.”

“No, I appreciated it,” says Seokjin.

Namjoon chuckles. “What, you like getting tricked into cooking? I’m glad I’m a fire hazard. I hate
cooking.”

“You are a fire hazard,” grins Seokjin. “And, I don’t know, I don’t think she tricked me. It was fun
to help. I always wanted to try to cook something.”

Namjoon makes a noise in his throat. What a strange thing to say. “Why didn’t you, then?”

Seokjin heaves a breath. “You know, just like, cooking. It’s for girls.”

Namjoon groans. “No it’s fucking not. It’s for people who don’t want to starve to death.”

“Okay, I know that. But, at my house, I don’t think I could try to help.”

“So what, you’re not allowed to make yourself a sandwich if you’re a man? Seems oddly helpless
for people who think they’re the better sex.”

“No, I can make a sandwich, and,” Seokjin hums like he’s trying to remember the rules. “Like, put
things in the oven if my mom’s not home. If it’s already made I can heat it up. But like, actually
cooking, I’ve never seen my dad do that.” That strikes Namjoon as borderline disgusting. He’s
actually been scolded for not being able to help cook; he doesn’t ever understand things that have
to do with man things vs. woman things, because he’s been raised by women who can do
everything and expect him to do everything, too.

“Okay, well, you know, you’re allowed to do whatever you want,” says Namjoon, the words
feeling really familiar on his tongue, like he’s got to remind Seokjin of that a lot. Really, he does.

“I know,” says Seokjin, like he’s just realizing something.

From then on, he helps Namjoon’s mom in the kitchen whenever he’s there. It’s beneficial for
everyone, because, with two people working in the kitchen, the food gets better and better. They sit
down for a nice meal in the afternoon whenever Seokjin’s over. Namjoon appreciates that, because
his mom is a good cook but not a committed one, so they usually eat pretty simply. That’s not a
huge problem, but he is in a growth spurt and his metabolism is on fire, so he’s pillaging the
refrigerator several times a day lately and is getting bored of eating all the same things.

Seokjin and his mom make a really good team. So good, actually, that Namjoon gets a little
jealous. He takes to scooting up to the bar in the kitchen with a book and hanging out while they
work. Jin starts wearing an apron, because he keeps getting smears on all his clothes that he can’t
explain. Not, he says, that he has to explain, because nobody ever looks at him, but he really
doesn’t want them to know. It’s sad that he feels like he’s got to keep something so simple and nice
a secret. Either way, Namjoon thinks the apron is a good touch. Too good. The way it fits around
him and pulls his shirt tight at the waist makes Namjoon uncomfortable. He tries not to look too
much, but still, he catches himself more than once having set his book down, elbows rested on the
table, face in his hands, just watching them work and giggle and listening to his mom guide
Seokjin.

One day, Namjoon’s mom says she can’t break for lunch because she’s got too much work to do.
“But you can make something if you want, Jin,” she says. “Whatever you can find. Or if you just
want to make sandwiches. Up to you. Sorry, guys.”

“That’s okay,” says Namjoon. He doesn’t need a gourmet meal every day; he’s not disappointed.

Seokjin looks confused for a minute, but then he’s rifling through cupboards and the fridge and
pulling things out like he’s got a plan in mind. Namjoon just sort of lets him, only feels weird for a
second that his friend is going through the cupboards like this is his own house.
Seokjin fries up some vegetables confidently, makes enough for all three of them, and Namjoon
washes the dishes as he finishes using them. When Seokjin finishes, he brings a bowl into
Namjoon’s mom’s office without any hesitation, and Namjoon can hear her appreciative sounds
from the kitchen. When Seokjin comes back out, he’s glowing with pride.

“She called me a chef,” he says.

“You are one,” squeaks Namjoon, throat a little tight. Jin looks so good when he’s happy. So good.
Namjoon refuses to make shit weird.

“Not making shit weird” takes a turn for the worse one weekend, when Seokjin leaves his sweater
tossed over Namjoon’s desk chair. Really, there’s no reason for him to bring a sweater; they wear
shorts and t-shirts and still sweat through them, and Seokjin has to ride his bike to and from
Namjoon’s house every day. It’s a couple miles and it’s so hot that Seokjin’s always sweaty when
he gets there. Often, he has a stain on his back shaped like the strap of his messenger bag. Namjoon
tries not to notice. Once, he arrives, and he says he can’t shake the sticky feeling even when he
cools off, so he awkwardly asks Namjoon if he can take a shower. Of course he can, Namjoon
says, and then a quick rinse-off becomes a regular thing, but Namjoon never gets used to clean,
glowing Seokjin with his hair all wet.

But he does a good job of not making shit weird until he finds the sweater Seokjin left on Friday
afternoon. It’s about time for him to go to bed when he sees it, and he grabs it to put it, he doesn’t
know, somewhere else. Somewhere he’ll remember to give it back.

It almost feels like he’s not allowed to touch it. It’s been on Seokjin’s body. But so have all his
mom’s aprons, and Seokjin’s touched like half of the things Namjoon owns at this point, so it
should be fine. But something about this being his sweater is weird. He doesn’t know why. And,
he doesn’t know why he brings it to his face and casually smells it.

He definitely doesn’t know why he keeps smelling it. The different parts. The hood smells like
shampoo and hair. The back and the sleeves just smell clean. Some of it smells kind of gross,
though. Sweaty. Maybe he tried to wear it on his ride over and took it off halfway through.
Namjoon smells the gross parts the most. He makes himself uncomfortable, but doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t sleep with it, that would be weird. Not that it’s not already weird. Not that the fact that
he now knows the difference between Seokjin’s soap and laundry detergent and deodorant and
shampoo isn’t weird. But he doesn’t sleep with it because he’s got standards. He just leaves it on
the desk chair where he can see it. And over the course of the weekend, he smells it and touches it
so much that he starts worrying that he’ll suck all the smell out of it and Seokjin will know. But,
when he comes back on Tuesday, after three weird days, Namjoon’s really normal-sounding when
he says, “You left your sweater.”

“Ah, sorry,” says Seokjin. “Didn’t mean to.”

Eventually, Namjoon’s mom doesn’t even try to help with lunch anymore, and just lets Jin do the
cooking, because he clearly loves it. She usually comes out of her office to eat with them, and
when they leave for the afternoon, she says “Bye guys! Love you!”

One day, both Seokjin and Namjoon holler back, on their way out the door, “Love you, too!”
Seokjin gives Namjoon an apprehensive look, like he’s made a huge mistake, but Namjoon shrugs
and smiles. He actually thinks that’s really nice. After that, Seokjin always yells it back when they
leave.

Eventually, toward the end of July, it gets too hot to go outside every day, so they hang out and
read books and watch TV. Even inside, with the curtains drawn and the fans on, it’s sticky and
heavy and they can’t do much. They eat cold foods and popsicles all day. Namjoon’s mom
apologizes for the broken swamp cooler. This summer’s been hotter than usual.

So, they start watching movies and TV and laying on the floor in the living room lamenting their
existence. They marathon most of a sitcom in the space of a week and start quoting it at each other
and casting each other as the characters. Then, they finish it, and mourn it, and decide that nothing
else will ever compare, so instead of picking something else to watch they lay around and talk for
the rest of the afternoon.

One day, they put on a movie, and it’s sort of boring but they’re both too lazy to turn it off.
Namjoon kind of zones out, his thoughts wandering, lethargic and heavy. Seokjin, eventually, falls
asleep. Namjoon notices this because Seokjin’s head falls onto his shoulder.

At first, Namjoon tenses up. He’s got to wake Jin up, this isn’t something that they’re allowed to
do. But, he looks so nice there, and comfortable, and he probably needs a nap. His camp has a
pretty heavy workload and Namjoon knows that he sometimes pulls late nights to get everything
done and still be able to come to Namjoon’s house on his off days.

He doesn’t wake him up. He lets him stay there until the movie is over, enjoying the weight and
the warmth even though he’s already far too hot. Then, as the credits roll, just as Namjoon was
about to wake him up for real, he hears a sharp intake of breath and feels a sticky face being peeled
off his shoulder.

“Sorry,” mumbles Seokjin, rubbing his eye, looking disoriented and anxious.

Namjoon feels weird too, now. He shouldn’t have let that happen. “Oh, no worries. I was just
gonna wake you up.”

“Sorry,” Seokjin says again, looking away. He clears his throat and scoots a little further away
from Namjoon, and Namjoon sort of wants to grab him and pull him back.

“Sorry,” says Namjoon, too.

Seokjin goes to the bathroom and Namjoon sits there awkwardly until he comes out. When he does,
he’s mostly back to normal, smiling and joking, and he goes to get them more snacks, and they
decide they can manage a walk around the hot neighborhood before Jin has to head back. For the
rest of the day, though, Jin doesn’t really meet Namjoon’s eyes, and when he does, he’s quick to
look away.

A couple weeks before the end of the summer, Namjoon and his mom go to visit his grandma.
They always visit her in August and she always celebrates Namjoon’s birthday then. In fact, for
most of his life, he’s considered the early birthday he spends with his mom and grandma more
important than his actual birthday. Usually he can’t wait. They spoil him badly. He loves them
both. He looks forward to it. This year, though, he’s less excited. He pretends he doesn’t know
why.

It’s only two days into the trip, when he’s sitting on his grandma’s soft old emerald green couch
texting furiously with Seokjin, making his case about which character he is from a movie they
watched the other day, that Namjoon’s grandma offhandedly goes, “Your phone must be really
interesting, sweetie.”

Namjoon flushes, says, “Sorry.” He knows he’s not in trouble, but his grandma is old and she still
has a landline. She thinks technology is rotting kids’ brains. He scrambles to defend himself, tries
to type his message faster, no listen im the sludge guy bc hes not evil hes misunderstood god i have
to go this isnt over, but his mom cuts in with a smile in her voice before he can.

“Oh, Mom, let him. He’s been practically joined at the hip with this other boy all summer.”

“That’s nice, but he’s with family right now,” says Namjoon’s grandma. She’s clearly not upset,
she’s just stating the obvious. And yeah, Namjoon’s being rude, but he’s got to convince Seokjin
that he’s the sludge guy and not the good guy. It feels very important right now.

“Sorry, sorry grandma,” says Namjoon, finishing his text and locking his phone and shoving it in
his pocket. It’s already started vibrating back. That makes him smile.

His grandma laughs, friendly. “It’s alright, sweetie. What’s so important that you’ve got to tell your
friend?”

Namjoon huffs. So, it felt important a second ago, but now he knows it’s stupid. He tries anyway.
“Well, we watched this movie the other day,” he says. “And he thought I was like the hero, but I
didn’t really like the hero. I thought he was kind of full of himself, you know? He keeps telling me
I’m the hero, but I swear I’m the villain.”

“Oh, honey, you’re no villain.”

“No, no, it’s not like that. The movie was sort of grey? The good guy wasn’t all good and the bad
guy wasn’t all evil. I sorta felt more like the bad guy, like, he was just in a crappy situation but he
was fighting for what he thought was right, too. And I thought he was actually doing it for better
reasons. Anyway, sorry, it’s dumb.”

Namjoon’s grandma hums thoughtfully. “You’re a very insightful child,” she says.

“Thank you,” squeaks Namjoon uncertainly.

“He is,” says Namjoon’s mom. “I’m so proud of him. Did you know he passed all his classes this
year? Even though it really looked like he wouldn’t?”

“Oh, yes, I remember,” says Namjoon’s grandma. Namjoon’s mom probably called her and told
her about how he’d been skipping. They talk on the phone a lot. “I’m glad he got it all together.
He’s doing a good job.”

The night, and really, the week, progresses much like that. His grandma adores him, for reasons
he’s never been able to completely explain. She’s said things about seeing a lot of herself in him,
but he doesn’t know enough about her to know how that applies. Her stories are all anecdotal.
Namjoon knows the names of plenty of people she’s known throughout the years, knows things
they’ve done at parties, usually told in such a way as to convey pearls of wisdom, but he doesn’t
know what she did before she retired, doesn’t know much about her at all except that she is a very
kind old woman with very steadfast beliefs who insists on maintaining a fabulous garden by herself
even though it gets harder every year.
After that time, Namjoon only text Seokjin when his grandma isn’t in the room. They still talk a
lot, though. They keep up with each other. It sounds like Seokjin’s having an alright week, even
though he’s trapped at home. His brother won some kind of science award that people aren’t
usually even considered for until they’re over fourteen, so he’s been getting most of the attention
around the house. He’s also, apparently, lording it over Seokjin: using his things, eating his food,
and being generally nasty to him. Namjoon hates that, but Seokjin seems like he’s used to it.

Then, there’s one night, when Namjoon just really, really misses him. He doesn’t know why.
They’ve been texting all day. He just misses his voice, the weight of his presence. It’s after eleven,
but he texts, can i call you?

Jin replies, yes? sure. i have to be quiet.

“Hello?” Jin sounds really sleepy. His voice is creaky. Namjoon likes it.

“Hi, sorry,” says Namjoon, also quietly, because his grandma’s house is small and the walls are
thin.

“What’s up?” Seokjin asks like there should be something up. Some reason Namjoon would be
calling. Awkwardly, Namjoon realizes there isn’t one.

“Nothing,” he says slowly.

There’s a silence. It’s like they’re both figuring out if it’s okay for them to be talking on the phone
past eleven if there’s nothing urgent happening.

“Cool,” says Seokjin eventually.

“Sorry,” says Namjoon again, wondering if he’s made shit weird.

“No, no, it’s good,” says Seokjin, sounding sleepy, but comfortable. “It’s nice to hear your voice.”

“Oh, you too,” says Namjoon quickly. “I just. I guess I just wanted to say hello.”

It sounds like Seokjin might be laughing a little on the other end. “Okay,” he says, smile clear in
his voice, and Namjoon isn’t sure what’s funny, but he’s smiling too. This is so weird.

“So I guess. Now that we did that. We should go?” Namjoon sputters.

“Oh, we don’t have to. I just have to be up at eight.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure,” says Namjoon. “Well, how has your day been?”

“You know how my day’s been,” sighs Seokjin, but he talks about it anyway. “You know.
Suhyeon is a fucking demon. My parents are mean. My dad won’t look at me, I swear to god he
knows I’m gay. I mean, that’s not new, I think he’s known forever.”

Something about that makes Namjoon’s heart beat funny, and it takes him a second to realize what
it is. “You just said it,” says Namjoon.

“Hmm?” says Seokjin, but then he gets it, too. “Oh, yeah. That’s the first time, huh?”

“Yeah,” says Namjoon. “Proud of you.”

Namjoon can’t tell if Seokjin sounds really happy or really sad when he says, “Thanks.”

Namjoon gets home just as summer hurtles to a close. School starts in a week. It suddenly feels
like all the time that didn’t pass, all the things that wouldn’t change, everything that slowed down
under the slow heat of the big sun, speeds up to make up for what it lost. Namjoon needs to get
new notebooks. He’s also two inches taller than he was when school got out. He’s celebrated his
birthday already, so for all intents and purposes he’s sixteen and therefore completely grown up
with all the knowledge in the world at his behest.

It’s the second to last time that he and Jin are supposed to hang out before school gets back in that
Namjoon feels like something huge and inevitable is happening to them. After a summer where
things between them stayed very still but grew wider and closer anyway, it’s strange for Namjoon
to suddenly have the overwhelming urge to let Seokjin know how he's felt all these months.

It starts when Seokjin arrives in the morning. Namjoon opens the door for him and the smell of
fresh flowers from outside mingled with the now-familiar smell of a sweaty Seokjin hit him at
once. Seokjin flashes his loving smile at Namjoon, and from that moment on, Namjoon is weak.

He keeps noticing how much really has changed this summer. He didn’t realize it while it was
happening, but now he can’t help but see him like it’s their first day back at school. Seokjin looks
great. All this time outside has made him tan. He didn’t see much sun before, was kind of pale and
wilty. But now he’s got this dark glow under his skin that makes him look so much healthier and
perkier and more handsome. Also, he’s toned from all the bike riding they’ve been doing, and he
just has great bones in general. Namjoon isn't sure if he's gotten sturdier or if, after all this time
together, it's just more noticeable. Namjoon’s as jealous as he is upset; all that’s happened to him
this summer is that he’s gotten huge and clumsy.

They do the same things they always do, but there’s an urgency to it that is not normal for them.
No more lazy bike rides around town and afternoons spent half-quiet reading books in Namjoon’s
room. Today they’re purposeful. They ride too fast and then have too much time to kill at the
foresty park near Namjoon’s house. Seokjin makes lunch too early and they get hungry again
before the afternoon’s half over. When they go to lay around in their after-lunch haze in Namjoon’s
room, they plug up all their usually-easy silences with words that don’t matter.

There’s a tension hanging between them, and by the afternoon, it’s heavy. Seokjin looks at
Namjoon like he’s trying to ask a secret question, kind of like that time he punched him in the arm
or the time he fell asleep on his shoulder. Both of those places still feel odd when Namjoon thinks
about them.

They sprawl out on the bed, both of them. It’s a big bed, so they don’t have to touch; it’s not weird.
Namjoon sits against the headboard, knees up to his chest. Seokjin lays across the foot of the bed.
They both read, silently, quickly, the sound of turning pages cutting through the room.

Eventually, Namjoon readjusts. He’s gotten stiff, so he stretches his legs out. They don’t quite
touch Seokjin.

Then, they do touch Seokjin, and neither of them move away from that.

Then, Seokjin scoots a little further up on the bed, like he might fall off the edge otherwise. A
minute later, his hand idly comes up to rest on Namjoon’s leg. They’re both still focusing very,
very hard on their books.
Namjoon readjusts again, not dramatically enough to move Seokjin’s hand off him, just enough to
get himself a little closer. His hand sneakily comes up to rest on Seokjin’s head.

Seokjin’s hand, the one that’s on Namjoon’s leg, comes up for a second, to turn a page in his book.
Then, when it settles back down, he’s stroking Namjoon’s thigh.

Namjoon doesn’t think about it, he can’t. He just quickly moves so that he’s laying down next to
Seokjin, both of them on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. The contact is broken, except now
they’re shoulder to shoulder. Namjoon waits a moment to see if Seokjin is going to wiggle away,
and when he doesn’t, he reaches down and blindly gropes for Seokjin’s hand.

He finds it. He grabs it. He tangles their fingers together. Seokjin gives him a weak squeeze and
huffs out a shaky breath. It’s quiet and weird. Namjoon isn’t sure if the anxiety is good or bad, but
he can’t think about that right now.

Seokjin, without untangling their fingers, turns on his side so he’s facing Namjoon, and Namjoon
turns, too. They’re looking at each other with inches between them and Namjoon’s not sure what
he’s allowed to do with that space.

But, when Namjoon looks at Seokjin’s eyes, he sees the same feelings in them that he’s got right
now. So he doesn’t think about it. He just closes the gap and touches their lips together.

Seokjin doesn’t move away, he doesn't respond at all. When he stays still, Namjoon pulls away,
suddenly sure he’s gotten it wrong. Seokjin’s eyes are closed, but when Namjoon moves back they
flutter open. They narrow like he’s figuring something out. Namjoon’s about to sputter an apology
and run away, suddenly hit hard with guilt and fear, but Seokjin shuts him up before he can even
start. He leans in, this time, and kisses Namjoon like it’s easy.

It’s short. It’s just lips touching, but it’s not hesitant; they’re pressing together like it’s important,
like they’ve got to tell each other that it's really happening. It feels right. It feels good. Seokjin’s
lips are soft and his hand is tangled in Namjoon’s and it feels very natural between them. Foreign,
too, in some ways, but Namjoon thinks the roiling in his guts is mostly good. The kiss breaks
quickly, though, and Seokjin is cringing away.

“Hey,” says Namjoon.

“Sorry,” says Seokjin. “Sorry.”

“Are you?” asks Namjoon. “You don’t have to be.”

“Okay,” says Seokjin, but he’s sitting up and he’s got his legs swung over the side of the bed
facing away from Namjoon and he’s putting his shoes on even though he doesn’t have to go home
for another hour and a half.

“Are you leaving?” Namjoon asks stupidly.

“I should, right?” he says. Then he sniffles, shakes his head at himself like he thinks he’s an idiot,
wipes at his turned-away face with the heel of a hand.

“If you… If you feel like you should,” says Namjoon.

“I don’t know,” says Seokjin. But there’s an answer in that. He’s leaving.

He doesn’t look at Namjoon at all until he leaves, until he’s hurrying out the door and he turns
around and says, “See you later.” Namjoon isn’t sure if he really thinks he will. Jin’s eyes are
swimming and he looks hurt, almost rejected, but that’s not it at all. The opposite of that is how
Namjoon wants him to feel.

“Okay,” says Namjoon, dumbly, with no control. When Jin leaves he closes the door gently; he’d
never slam it.

As soon as he’s gone, Namjoon lets out a sticky sob that he didn’t know he was holding in. He’s
going to just hurry back to his room, but then his mom steps out of her office, saying, “Was that
Jin? He left early.” Then she sees Namjoon, looking at her like he’s been caught doing something
he shouldn’t, clearly crying, and she doesn’t ask, just goes to him and gives him a huge, warm hug
that somehow makes him feel encompassed even though he’s bigger than she is now, and she
mutters comforting words onto his head.
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Seokjin would never admit that he’s ignoring Namjoon when school starts. The first two days, he
really has excuses. Debate club meets and Seokjin’s got to get his locker assigned and all sorts of
things are calling him. He’s busy.

On the third day, he’s found.

It’s lunch. It’s hot. Seokjin’s wearing a cardigan because he doesn’t like it when people can see too
much of him, but it’s really too hot to be outside with Jisoo and the rest of his friends. So, he makes
some excuse to go to his locker, and, as he’s walking in, Namjoon’s walking out.

“Oh,” he says.

Namjoon looks just as surprised as Seokjin. He blinks once and says, “Oh, hi.” It’s been two
weeks, and he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt; a little more covered than Seokjin’s used to seeing, just
different enough that he can’t help but notice. His shirt fits a little weirdly. It’s short, and shows off
how thin Namjoon’s gotten lately. He looks awkward, but Seokjin thinks it’s good. He thinks he
looks good. He wishes he didn’t.

They’ve been sizing each other up silently for too long now, so, “Um, how’s it going?” asks
Seokjin. Namjoon does look different, but this is the first time they’ve seen each other since things
changed, and Seokjin might just see him differently now.

Namjoon shrugs pointedly, like he’s saying, you should know how I am. He doesn’t look accusing,
though. Just sort of disappointed. Seokjin is worried that he’s hurt him without meaning to.

“Sorry,” mutters Seokjin. “I don’t. I don’t know.” He has to look away, blushing and nervous.

Namjoon huffs out a breath and folds his lips like he does when he’s not sure about something. He
squints at Seokjin like he’s trying to figure him out. Then he asks, bluntly and suddenly, “Do you
not hate me?” Like he had been sure that Seokjin did, and is surprised to see anything else.

“What?” says Seokjin. Of course he doesn’t hate him. He’s spent the last two weeks crying over
him. “No way,” he says, almost defensively. “No, I just,” but, then, he doesn’t know what.

Namjoon says, quickly, “Can we talk?” Then they make eye contact and it’s harsh and vulnerable.

Seokjin sighs. It has to happen sometime. And, now that Namjoon’s in front of him, in his fucked
up old sneakers with his hair looking all messed up, because he fidgets with it when he’s stressed,
it doesn’t seem as scary as it did when he could only read him through his increasingly desperate
texts. Namjoon doesn’t seem angry; it doesn’t seem like he wants to fight or yell or like he’s even
mad. He just wants to talk. Seokjin doesn’t, yet, but he owes it to Namjoon. He’s had time to think
about it. He knows how he feels. So he says, “Okay. Yeah.”

It’s weird that after three months off school, two weeks without seeing each other, after kissing and
irreparably damaging everything they were, they still autopilot to the parking lot near the portables
with the gate that’s never locked. They’re off school grounds within a few minutes. They walk in
the vague direction of Namjoon’s house, though lunch is short and they’ll have to turn around
soon. They don’t talk about anything important until they’re in neutral territory, catching up on
each others’ days until the gate creaks closed behind them. It’s not hard; Seokjin finds himself
telling funny little tidbits about his new teachers, and Namjoon’s already got some nihilist ideas
about his schedule. It’s easy to talk, but it’s tentative too, and, as soon as they’re safe, Namjoon
groans a little, stops, looks up, and says, “Jin.”

“Yes,” says Seokjin, steeling himself for this. “Namjoon.”

“I don’t care if you don’t like me that way, but we have to stay friends.”

Seokjin doesn’t know what he expected to hear, but it wasn’t that. He says, “Oh.”

“I know I crossed a line, so,” Namjoon shakes his head at himself, “Whatever I have to do to make
you comfortable again, I wanna do it.”

Seokjin wants to tell him that he didn’t cross a line. Because he didn’t, and Seokjin acted like it
was okay, so how was Namjoon supposed to know? He wants to tell him. But, in a way, this is
what he wanted. A chance to go back to what was easy. Not touching, not kissing, not having big
difficult feelings for each other. Just being friends who could talk about anything. “Yeah,” Seokjin
says. “Okay. I mean, it’s okay. No worries. We can just go back to how it was before, right?”

The way Namjoon’s face falls makes Seokjin wonder if he had some small hope that Seokjin
would admit it had been mutual. Then, the look they exchange, quiet and small, makes Seokjin
sure that Namjoon knows.

Even as Namjoon, looking uncomfortable and sad, nods and says “Yeah, we can,” Seokjin thinks
they’re both acknowledging that this is the lie they need to say right now. Seokjin has feelings he’s
not ready for. They have to just go back to normal.

The silence is long for them, and eventually they turn back for the school. They don’t really look at
each other, and the easy conversation doesn’t come back yet. But they’re going to try, and that
should make Seokjin feel much better. They part with plans to skip tutoring and go to Namjoon’s
on Thursday. Back to normal.

When they do hang out, Seokjin makes a borderline heroic effort to act like nothing’s wrong. It
seems like Namjoon does too. They haven’t hung out at school, though they’ve seen each other.
Seokjin would like to see Namjoon at lunch, but it seems like part of going back to normal has been
acting like the summer didn’t happen. So Namjoon’s hanging out with his mean-looking friends
again and Seokjin’s hanging out with Jisoo and the rest of debate club, and when they see each
other in the halls they smile self-consciously and move on.

Walking toward Namjoon’s house, they try hard to act like it’s all the same. It’s almost painful.
Namjoon laughs loudly. They don’t look at each other. At one point, Namjoon wobbles and
brushes against Seokjin, and they both get very, very tense and quiet for a minute. Seokjin
eventually breaks the silence, cutting it with a forced laugh and saying, “Anyway, how are your
friends doing?”

Namjoon smiles gratefully and says, “Fine. I missed them this summer. I didn’t even know
Wonwoo was out of town the whole time. He started telling me all about the beach and his friends
from middle school and I was like, wait, you left? Apparently he told me about it a lot, but I don’t
remember.”

It’s nice when they arrive at Namjoon’s house, and even nicer when his mom is there with a big
hug for each of them. Seokjin’s been feeling okay today, better than the haze that’s blurred the last
two weeks together, and it’s so nice to be here with Namjoon, but even so, her warm arms around
him do something very sudden to his body and he has to fight tears. He missed Namjoon’s mom.

He curbs it, though, and goes to Namjoon’s room to lay around like they do every day.

In Namjoon’s room, things feel a little different. This is where they’re the barest with each other.
All of Namjoon’s house, really, feels very safe to Seokjin, but Namjoon’s room is the most
intimate. It’s always a little dark, and a little stuffy, and a little cramped. They kissed here, Seokjin
came out here, he said so many things here that he’d never considered talking about before. And,
it’s weird, because it feels like a very secret place, like they can leave the things they’ve said and
done behind, but so many of the things Seokjin has talked about have carried over into the rest of
his life. The way he thinks is different than it used to be. How much he values himself.

He almost, in the little while they spend here, reading and lounging around on separate seats,
remembers who he was this summer. It’s all been very dry for the past few weeks, he’s felt very
hollow, but just sitting here with Namjoon, he feels himself relaxing a little more. Less of a tight
bundle held very close to himself and more loose and comfortable, for once. Lately, even when he
sleeps he feels tense.

He almost, almost tells Namjoon how he really feels. He almost admits it. But, what stops him is
the same thing that stopped him before. Maybe, for twenty minutes twice a week, he can be
someone who can do this. But the rest of the time, he’s still going to be scared.

So, he says nothing, and eventually they have to walk back so that Seokjin can get picked up by his
mom, who knows what he’s doing but still asks him how tutoring was. Maybe it’s her way of
letting him know that she’ll let him get away with it, lie for him if it’s convenient, but it just feels
like he’s being ignored.

When he gets home, he feels solidly worse than he has since the day they kissed. He’s had a dull
ache most of the time, he’s been anxious and jumpy, he’s been rude and his dad’s been having
talks with him with a rare frequency, but he’s just sad now. Just, unmovably sad. Nothing can
distract him from it. He regrets everything.

When it’s time for dinner, he feels almost like he physically can’t bear it, like he might cry at the
table or like maybe he’s being killed slowly from the inside. But he has to go, and he has to suck it
up, and every time his father speaks, the knot in his throat and the pounding in his head gets worse.
Every time he hears his family’s voices he is reminded of the warm, loving, easy hug that
Namjoon’s mom gave him, and he’s so, so sad that he can’t be someone who gets to experience
that all the time. That he’s just not good enough to be loved like that.

He leaves the table as early as he can and goes to his room.

The next few days are strange and painful. Not that they haven’t been, but, before he and Namjoon
talked, he was fighting something. He doesn’t know what he was fighting, himself mostly. He was
fighting against needing to figure it out with Namjoon, acknowledging that they kissed, his
worthiness. Now, there’s nothing left to fight. He got what he wanted. They can still be friends and
they never have to talk about it again, but it doesn’t help. Seokjin starts feeling like he can’t move
forward at all. He keeps freezing up. When he gets to hard math problems, when he doesn’t
understand a word in the reading, he just stops. He gets a project for his advanced world history
class that sounds like it’s going to be so much work that he doesn’t even start it. He can’t even
think about it.
When his parents talk to him, without fail, he feels like crying. Sometimes he does. One
embarrassing time, he can’t get to his room in time, and his dad scoffs at him and Suhyeon laughs.
It’s not always that direct, though. Just being in the same room as them makes him feel like he’s
having the life sucked out of him. When he’s called on in class, he spends the rest of the hour
trying to get over the feeling that he’s being stared at and judged.

At school, Seulgi keeps trying to talk to him like they’re old friends, like they’re close, maybe even
like they like each other. She’s not the only girl who’s been acting very friendly with him, and he
wonders what changed. Either way, it’s not welcome. With Seulgi especially; he doesn’t like
Seulgi at all. They haven’t spoken at all since prom, so why is she suddenly so invested in what
Seokjin’s doing all the time?

He tries to tell her to go away without being rude, but it doesn’t really work, so he gets used to
having her around and gets used to speaking monosyllabically with her. She makes him tired and
sad and reminds him that he can’t have what he wants. She’s the reason. Her voice sounds harsh to
him.

Seokjin is so stressed, and he feels so stuck, and the next time he hangs out with Namjoon, it
doesn’t feel like it gets any easier.

Everything in his life is leading back to this major problem in his life. He likes Namjoon, he does,
and he can’t lie to himself about that, and he’s terrified. The more he thinks about it, the less he
likes himself, the less worthy he feels. Every single thought leads back to Namjoon. His pretty
eyes, his dimples, his big hands. The smile that Seokjin only sees when he does something that’s
hard for him, the one that looks quietly proud and fond. How good it was to kiss him, how much he
wants to do that again, but without fear this time. How far from ready he is.

But, there’s a day when it gets so bad, so so bad, that Seokjin has the passing thought that it’d be
easier to be dead than to deal with everything he hates about himself, and instead of entertaining
that thought, he decides he needs a gameplan. Ignoring it until it gets better is not a plan. Festering
in his self-loathing is not a plan. Lying to Namjoon and himself is not a plan. And running away,
leaving their friendship behind, that’s not a plan either. So, he’s stuck until he figures something
out.

He doesn’t think about it before he does it. Namjoon’s mom gave him her number once, in case of
emergencies. Leave it to Namjoon, she’d said, to forget his phone, or break it, or forget to charge it
on the one day that he needs it. Seokjin has never called her number, and he’s not even sure if she’s
got his saved. But he can’t think of anybody else in the world who can help him right now. So,
after school, when there’s nothing else that can possibly help him, he dials her number.

“This is Kim Kyonghwa,” she says, professionally. Seokjin cringes. He’s just called her work
number to ask for life advice. He should hang up.

“Hello?” she says when he’s quiet for a second.

“Um, hi,” he says, finally. “This is uh. Kim Seokjin. Namjoon’s friend?”

She laughs. “Hello,” she says, dropping all formality and sounding almost relieved. There’s a
rustling as she says, “Hang on just one second, sweetie,” and then he can hear her close a door. She
picks the phone back up and says, “Hey there, Jin.” She sounds unfazed that it’s him, but almost
like she can already tell what he’s called about.

“Are you busy?” he asks, meekly.

“Not at all,” she says. “I’m so glad it’s you and not a client, actually. I was hoping to take most of
this afternoon off.”

Good that he’s not inconveniencing her. He says, “Okay, good. Thank you.” Then he doesn’t know
what else to say.

“What’s going on, honey?”

Seokjin doesn’t know where to start, or what he even wants to ask her. He tries. “I don’t know. I’m
just kind of. Having a hard time right now.”

“Oh, no,” she says, so concerned. “What’s up?”

Seokjin sighs. Now or never. “I like someone and it sucks,” he says, almost laughing at how
unimpressive that problem sounds.

“Ahhh,” she muses. “That’s always hard in high school. Do you know if this person likes you
back?”

“I think they do,” he says. “I think,” he breathes, and pauses, “he does.”

She hums long, understanding, acknowledging. Then she moves on. “So you think he does,” she
says. “What’s the problem?”

Seokjin doesn’t know how to say anything else without admitting that they’re talking about her
son, and he thinks this was a terrible idea, but she’s so nice and he’s already started talking. “He’s a
lot better than me,” he says.

“Better than you? That doesn’t sound likely.”

Seokjin can’t help but smile small to himself, even as he’s starting to feel teary and miserable.
“Thank you, but he is. He’s very strong. And I’m just not, you know? You know me.”

“I know you, but you seem strong to me. There’s just a lot going on.”

“I’m not strong,” Seokjin asserts. “I’m soft.”

“No, now listen,” says Namjoon’s mom, cutting him off, like she’s got something to teach Seokjin.
“Strong and soft aren’t exclusive. At all. Okay? You can be both.”

Seokjin doesn’t really understand that. It doesn’t make sense. But Namjoon’s mom goes on. “You
know, not everyone can be tough. Not everyone wants to be. I don’t want to be tough. I like having
feelings, relating to people.” She sounds very adamant about this. Seokjin doesn’t reply, so she
says more, in this tone of voice that’s very serious but still so loving. “My mother is one of the
strongest people I’ve ever met. She’s been through so much; she lost a child and a husband on the
same day, she lost a house, she’s been through cancer, and she’s somehow still one of the sweetest
people I’ve ever met. You should ask Namjoon about her sometime. She’s used everything bad
that’s ever happened to her to fuel her kind heart. She spoils my son and I to pieces. And, I think,
part of what makes her so special is that she’s stayed soft.”

“But she’s tough, too,” says Seokjin, small.

“She’s tough in a way, I suppose. She’s sturdy. But she hasn’t gotten cold, she hasn’t stopped
being soft.”
“But that’s different, she’s a grandma, I’m, I’m a—“

“Don’t say what I think you’re going to say. This isn’t about gender. You’re you, and I don’t think
you should try to be something you aren’t just to fulfill a criteria that somebody made up for you.
If you’re soft, just be soft. You seem very strong to me. Honestly, Jin, how you manage what
you’re put through and stay such a charming, sweet person is beyond me. I can’t imagine it.”

Now Seokjin is certainly crying. He thinks he can still talk normally until he actually tries and
makes a weird strangled sound before he can get anything out. “Thank you, thanks,” he says.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says. “It’s okay. I’m so sorry that it’s like this. But you know, what seems
like the end of the world today might not seem like much at all once it’s over.” But then she
amends, “Well, actually, what you’re going through right now is really big. I don’t want to say that
it isn’t. But I don’t want you to think that you have to toughen up to make some dumb boy happy.”

Seokjin laughs through the tears that are coming pretty strongly now. He doesn’t even know if he’s
sad, he just feels a lot. He feels like a liar, like he’s just tricked Namjoon’s mom into calling her
beautiful son some dumb boy. But she seems to catch onto that and she says, lowly, “For the
record, I think he would be happy to be there for you while you figure it all out.”

“He… no, sorry,” Seokjin doesn’t even know what he’s saying.

“Namjoon likes you a lot, I think,” she says.

“Oh, god.”

“I don’t know what happened, but I think he’s been just as upset as you are.”

“We kissed.” Seokjin sniffles.

“That makes sense.”

“Are you not mad?”

“Nope, Jin, I’m not. He’s going to date whether I approve or not, because he’s sixteen and that’s
just how he is. But, honestly, I like it when you’re in my house, and you two seem very happy
together. You’ve got my blessing if you decide to talk to him. And, to be clear, I really think you
should. If what you called me to ask is whether you should try to date my son, I think you should. I
think you should try to date him.”

“I couldn’t be open about it,” says Seokjin, like he’s trying to find some excuse to sabotage
himself.

“You’re still in high school. Who can be, at your age? There’s time to worry about being open,
figuring that stuff out. You know you’re safe here. I think that’s what matters, don’t you? That
there’s somewhere you can go? And, as a mom, I’d rather see my son bringing his dates home than
running around to god-knows-where.”

“I… we wouldn’t get to hang out much,” Seokjin tries again.

“Stop thinking of reasons to be miserable. Stop it. If you’re torn up because you like a boy who
you think likes you back, you should know that your problems are minor. I know how complicated
it is. But it’s also simple.”

“Okay,” says Seokjin. He’s still not sure what he thinks, or even what this conversation has been
about. He just says, “Okay. Well, thank you. Really. I'm sorry for calling.”

“No, no, Jin. Thank you for calling. Any time you need anything, I mean it, please call me. I’m
here for you. I love you, sweetie.”

Seokjin feels so stupid about the sudden sob that rips from him, but there’s just so much happening.
People don’t just tell Jin that they love him, they don’t just call him sweetie, especially not perfect
people, busy people like Namjoon’s mom. He cries a lot when he hears that, and she lets him get
his bearings for a minute before she says, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” says Seokjin.

“Okay. I have to let you go. But I’m always here.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Bye, Jin.”

“Bye.”

The next day at lunch, Seokjin doesn't even check in with Jisoo, he goes straight to where Namjoon
usually sits, under a big tree in the quad with his two friends.

"Hey," he says. Then, with no pomp or waiting, because he can't give himself a chance to doubt
this, he asks, "Can we talk?"

Namjoon looks up from the book he's got open on his knee; it's a thick fantasy book that he's crazy
about right now and has been working on for over a week, longer than usual. His eyebrows raise a
little and Seokjin can feel his friends looking at him. Namjoon looks tired, sort of uninterested.
Seokjin's sorry that he's disappointed Namjoon so many times lately that he doesn't even want to
hear what he's got to say. Still, he tries a smile, bookmarks his page and gets up. "Sure," he says,
and follows Seokjin's lead toward their usual exit point.

They don't make it that far. As soon as nobody's around, out behind one of the buildings in an
unmowed grassy patch, all Seokjin's stress culminates into one look at Namjoon. It's so bright
around them, but they're standing in shade. Namjoon's jeans are too short for him and ripped to
shreds, and Seokjin's still not sure whether that's a fashion choice or a symptom of who he is. His
dark hair is messy, his shoelaces are frayed, his t-shirt is a reference to something Seokjin's never
heard of. He's looking at Seokjin almost forlornly, like he's sorry and just as regretful as Seokjin is.
Like he feels as heavy about this as Seokjin does. He's everything good that Seokjin knows. And,
right now, there's not much he can say that will mean what he wants it to. So instead of saying
anything, he gets close to Namjoon and wraps his arms around him.

Namjoon is still for a minute. It's not easy for him to move; Seokjin's got his arms pinned down,
hugging him all the way around, but then he wiggles them free and hooks his around Seokjin, too.
They stand like that, still for all intents and purposes, but holding slowly tighter and relaxing into
each other's arms until what started as something awkward turns into a confirmation that they can
fit together.

Nobody says anything, and they stand like that for a while, until Seokjin hooks his chin over
Namjoon's shoulder, and he can feel Namjoon’s breath against his own chest, and Namjoon is
rubbing up and down his back.
"Sorry," says Seokjin, before they let go. "I'm sorry. I lied."

"It's okay," says Namjoon. Then they don't say anything else, but Seokjin reaches around his back
awkwardly until he finds one of Namjoon's hands, pulls it down and laces his fingers with it.

They don't kiss. When they go back, they don't hold hands. But they also don’t part ways; they go
to the quad and sit on a bench, just them. They don’t say much before they have to go back to class,
but the air is closer between them. This isn’t over; they certainly have more to talk about. But for
now, it's okay.

That afternoon is one of Seokjin's "tutoring days." It's lucky, because all he can think about the rest
of the afternoon is how glad he is to have shared that moment with Namjoon, but how much he
still needs to sit him down and tell him all the reasons that they shouldn't do this.

However, in Namjoon's room, comfortable and cozy and forthcoming, he doesn't feel discouraged.

"We have to talk about this," says Seokjin, like Namjoon doesn't know that.

"Yeah, sure," says Namjoon, still sort of guarded.

"I like you," says Seokjin. Namjoon needs to know that, whatever happens. He needs to hear it in
words.

Namjoon makes a little noise and says, "I like you, too."

"I like you a lot. But you know, um, you know my situation."

"I know."

"So I'm afraid. You're important to me, and I'm just not like, allowed to do anything, and I don't
want to mess it all up."

"I know your situation," says Namjoon again. "It doesn't make me not like you."

"We probably couldn't even hang out," says Seokjin. "And I'm just. Stupid."

"You're not," says Namjoon, getting up from the desk chair to sit with Seokjin on the bed.

"I just mean, I don't know stuff that I should know. It's frustrating. I'm wrong a lot."

"We're all trying," says Namjoon.

"But you already know,” says Seokjin. "You know so much more than me. I'm so behind."

Namjoon self-consciously brings a hand to Seokjin's leg. "You'll catch up. I'm not worried."

"I don't think we can date," says Seokjin, even as he's got his hand on top of Namjoon's. "I don't
think we can."

"Okay," says Namjoon. "It's okay if we can't date. Can we still like each other?”

"I guess we can't help that."

"Can we touch each other?"

They already are, and it doesn't feel wrong or scary, so, "Yeah."

"Can we kiss?"

Seokjin makes a little scared sound without meaning to. But, he wants to. He wants to try it again
and know it's mutual. "I think we can kiss," he says.

So, that’s all, and they do. Namjoon leans in, Seokjin meets him, and they kiss like it’s okay this
time.

Namjoon is wonderful at it. Not practiced, but he’s just got a soft, sweet mouth. Seokjin likes it. It
feels good and right. It’s the first time he’s kissed someone he likes, knowing he’s liked back, and
it feels far less disgusting and hard and mechanical than it has before. He knows how to do this, he
wants to do this, he wants to be closer to Namjoon.

It feels like a very natural progression from sitting next to each other on the bed, heads turned
awkwardly, kissing chastely, to adjusting their positions and kissing deeply, fully, closely, slotting
their lips together and facing each other. Eventually Namjoon spreads his legs apart and Seokjin
sits between them, and they lace one hand together and use the other to pull each others’ backs
closer. Their chests touch, Namjoon brings a hand to the back of Seokjin’s head and tangles it in
his hair. They break apart for a second, touching foreheads, and Namjoon’s laugh is half a sob, but
it’s all happiness.

A quiet falls between them, still pressed close like this, kissing lazily, until Seokjin gets anxious
about the time and the moment passes.

“We have to head back,” says Seokjin quietly.

Namjoon nods, pushes back, and the last thing to come apart are their fingers, though its just for a
minute while they put their shoes on. On the way out of the room, Namjoon gives Seokjin that
little smile like he’s proud, or maybe just fond, and takes his face in his hands and kisses him
theatrically on the lips.

“Is everything okay?” asks Namjoon on the walk back.

Seokjin’s pretty quiet, but things are okay. He’s feeling terribly anxious, more and more as they get
closer to the school, like his parents will know what he’s done. But, Seokjin’s learned lately,
people can only tell you’ve fucked up when you feel like you’ve fucked up. His parents won’t
know what he’s done unless he walks into the house looking and feeling like a criminal. And, right
now, there’s no guilt. He’s a little scared, a lot anxious, but not guilty. He likes what he’s done. So,
he says, honestly, “Yeah. Everything is good.”

From then on, Seokjin and Namjoon hang out at lunch.

At first, their friends look for them. Namjoon’s friends find them, and they end up camping out and
having their own conversation near where Namjoon and Seokjin are sitting. It’s fine, not awkward,
but they don’t come by again the next day.

Jisoo finds them as well, one day. He levels Namjoon with a look that Seokjin hates, and says,
“Hey, Seokjin, I’ve been trying to find you.”

“Sit with us?” offers Namjoon, to Seokjin’s surprise, patting the bench.
Jisoo does, but he doesn’t have anything to offer to the easy conversation between Seokjin and
Namjoon. He’s stiff and his movements are calculated, while Namjoon’s laying on his back on the
bench, limbs dripping off the sides like putty, and Seokjin’s sitting on the grass with his head
leaned back on the seat. Namjoon’s still reading this fantasy series, and he’s very excited about it,
and he doesn’t stop talking about it just because Jisoo’s there.

“It’s like mind reading, but it’s this whole thing where, to read someone’s mind or influence their
thoughts, you have to put your consciousness there, and it’s super easy for your mind to get tattered
and blow away and dissipate. It’s fucked up. Consequences are real.”

“Sounds realistic,” says Seokjin.

“Yeah, I think if it were real, it would be like that. Dangerous. Weird to think about consciousness
as something that can just float around, though. Makes you think differently.”

“Sure,” says Seokjin.

“What are you talking about?” asks Jisoo. “You know, Seokjin, we should really go to the debate
room now.”

“Ah, Jisoo, it’s okay,” says Seokjin. “We don’t need to be there early every day. I don’t even know
if I’m going to keep doing debate this year.” That’s the first time Seokjin’s had that conscious
thought, let alone voiced it, but he doesn’t disagree with himself.

Jisoo blanches. “You want to quit debate? You know how that’s going to look on your college
applications? Just quitting in your last year?”

Seokjin rubs his eyes and laughs quietly to himself. “I don’t really care how it looks,” he says. “I
sort of hate it. I’ve always hated it. Yeah, I’m gonna quit.”

“That’s fine, then,” says Jisoo, like he’s just been personally offended. “Well, I do have to get over
there. Nice seeing you, I guess.”

“Bye,” says Seokjin lazily.

Jisoo goes, and Namjoon snorts. “You’re quitting debate?”

“Yeah, just decided. I don’t like arguing.”

“Me, neither.”

“I hate conflict, actually. Debate club stresses me out,” he says, revelatory. “I get a stomachache
beforehand. I’m not good at it. It’s not normal to feel like that.”

“Nope, it’s not,” says Namjoon, and, without thinking, his hand comes up from where it’s dangling
off the bench and tangles in Seokjin’s hair for a second. They both pull back abruptly, though, as
soon as they realize, and Namjoon says, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”

Seokjin hums. “It’s okay.” It feels very easy and natural to do that. They can’t, but it’s still okay.

It’s not long before Tuesdays and Thursdays after school for twenty minutes in Namjoon’s room is
not enough. It’s two weeks before they’re looking for nooks and crannies around the school where
they can run off together without being watched. They don’t even always kiss, they sometimes just
link fingers for a few minutes or hug. In between the art building and the science building, Seokjin
rests his head in the space between Namjoon’s neck and shoulder. Under the stairs in B hall,
Namjoon kisses Seokjin’s wrist and plays with his earring.

Seokjin doesn’t feel like sneaking around every day. In fact, a lot of days, he’s too anxious to even
think about it, but Namjoon’s always understanding. Seokjin starts wondering if he’s stringing
Namjoon along, but he brings it up, because he’s so, so tired of not bringing things up, and he
always feels infinitely better when he doesn’t pretend not to have feelings. So one day, walking to
Namjoon’s, he asks, “Are you really okay with this?”

“Uh, yeah?” says Namjoon. “What do you mean?”

Seokjin sighs. “Not knowing when… you know, what we are?”

“I know what we are,” says Namjoon, pragmatic. “Doesn’t need a word.”

“If I were dating me, I’d be confused.”

“I’m not you, though. We’re dating?”

Seokjin shrugs, and, without thinking, grabs Namjoon’s hand. Wants to tell Namjoon how he feels
but, like so often, doesn’t really know how to word it. Still, he manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Great,” says Namjoon, and rubs Seokjin’s hand with a thumb. “That makes me like. Really
happy.”

Seokjin doesn’t look over, but he can hear the blush in Namjoon’s voice.

Generally, things get a lot easier. Namjoon is the most understanding person Seokjin could hope
for. They kiss a lot when they’re alone, they’re affectionate when they can be, but Namjoon never
asks for anything that Seokjin isn’t ready to freely give. Seokjin’s always thought of himself as a
follower, not a leader, but, with Namjoon, and moving forward with him, and getting comfortable,
it’s all in Seokjin’s hands and it feels very easy to ask for what he wants. Something about
Namjoon’s steady presence makes Seokjin feel like he’s allowed to express himself. It’s heady.

Namjoon’s mom greets them warmly when she’s home, but never makes any indication that she
remembers the conversation she and Seokjin had. One day, though, instead of going into
Namjoon’s room, they really want to re-watch an episode of the sitcom they like that they’ve been
laughing about all day. They sit down at the couch to put it on while Namjoon’s mom putters
around in the kitchen, and Seokjin, easily, rests his head on Namjoon’s shoulder and curls into him.

Namjoon tenses for a second and gives Seokjin a questioning look, almost frantic, but Seokjin
meets it steadily. If Namjoon’s not comfortable doing this in front of his mom, that’s fine, but
Seokjin makes it clear that he is. He is comfortable.

Namjoon’s mom should be an actor. She walks past the two of them to get to her office, and stops
when she sees how they’re sitting to size them up as if she’d never even thought to think that there
might be something between them. Seokjin gives Namjoon’s mom a little smile, but can literally
feel Namjoon blush against him.

Namjoon’s mom does the perfect amount of gaping, looking between them, acknowledging, and
then moving right on. “Well,” she says. “You boys want some snacks?”
“Obviously,” says Namjoon, at the same time as Seokjin says, “Yes, please.”

The next day at school, at their bench a little way from everybody else, Namjoon gets a very self-
conscious laugh and says, “My mom gave me the sex talk last night.”

Seokjin makes a gagging sound.

“I know, right? And she like, she was like, it was so humiliating. She told me the regular stuff, but
then she went all on about gay sex, like it’s so much different? I mean, it is, but please. I don’t
want to talk about that stuff with my mom. Ever? The internet was invented to render these
conversations unnecessary, you know?”

Seokjin laughs. He can hear the embarrassment thick in Namjoon’s voice. “I think that’s nice of
her, though,” he says. “My parents would never care that much.”

“It’s not caring,” Namjoon starts, but then he stops and backpedals a little and says, “Okay, you
have a point though.”

“She cares.”

“You’re right.”

“We’re lucky to have her,” he says, and then realizes that he doesn’t get to claim her, at all, and
starts to go back and correct himself, but Namjoon stops him before he even can.

“We really are.”

One day, at lunch, hanging out with Namjoon at the bench that just is their bench now, Seokjin
sees Nayeon and Dahyun meandering around the quad together. They’re all seniors, so he sees
them around a fair bit, and he’s been wanting to say hello or something, but they always have their
huge and intimidating group of friends around them. He doesn’t even have anything to say, he just
thinks they’re cool.

Seokjin mutters up to Namjoon. “You remember those girls who went to prom together?”

“Mhmm,” says Namjoon.

“That’s them. Three o’clock.”

“Oh, them, yeah,” says Namjoon. “Wanna go say hi?”

Seokjin thinks. “Sort of, but I don’t have anything to say.”

Namjoon laughs. “Thanks for paving the way, ladies,” he says jokingly. “No, just say hi, and say
you like their backpacks or something. People love compliments.”

Seokjin feels horribly awkward about it, but Namjoon’s shoving him off the bench, and he
whispers go go go until Seokjin does.

“Hey,” he says, coming up to meet them.

They both look at him kind of inquisitively, like they recognize him but don’t know why he’d have
a reason to speak to them. Dahyun looks a little apprehensive, a little on guard, and Seokjin feels
bad because he knows. “What’s up?” she says.
 “Uhh,” says Seokjin, ready to melt, “I just saw your bag, just then, Nayeon, and I came to say that I
liked it. I was looking at the same one but I picked a different one and it’s kind of crummy. So,
uh,” he’s rambling and being stupid and they both look ready to laugh or run away, “Good bag
choice.”

“Thank you?” says Nayeon.

“Yeah, so,” and he’s awkward and doesn’t know what he’s doing but he wants to talk to them they
are so cool so he says, “I was just talking about it, and my, my boyfriend made me come say
something.”

They look at him flatly for a second. “You fucking with us?” says Dahyun.

“No, I like your bag,” says Seokjin, shaky.

“That’s your boyfriend?” says Dahyun, gesturing vaguely to Namjoon, who’s sitting out of earshot.
Seokjin looks over, and Namjoon raises his eyebrows like he’s not sure what’s going on.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Seokjin. “Yep.”

“Rad,” says Nayeon. “Well, thank you.” She sounds like she means it this time. “What’s your
name again? I should know, sorry.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m Jin and that’s Namjoon.”

“Well, good to meet you,” she says.

“We eat by the art building,” says Dahyun quickly, still seeming a little stiff and not really meeting
Seokjin’s eyes. “Just in case you guys don’t want to be alone.”

“Oh,” says Seokjin, trying not to grin too stupidly. “Okay, thank you.”

“Okay, well, see you around,” says Dahyun.

“Bye,” says Seokjin, and he darts back over to Namjoon.

“What was that?” says Namjoon, clearly confused by that conversation and his own involvement
in it.

Seokjin hums, buries his face in his hands, laughs. “They invited us to eat with them,” he says. “I
told them we were boyfriends and they told us we should eat with them by the art building so we
wouldn’t have to be alone.”

“Oh,” says Namjoon. “We’re boyfriends?”

“Oh, definitely,” says Seokjin. “Of course we are.”

Namjoon takes a deep breath like the air is clean and fresh and he wants to be full of it.
“Awesome,” he says.

Chapter End Notes

hello
i apologize if this chapter isn't stupendous. it felt vry sticky so eventually i just decided
to get it out there so i could move on. hopefully there won't be such a long wait before
the next one c: xoxo
 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Jin and Namjoon have been eating with Nayeon and Dahyun and their friends for about a week,
except for one day when they went behind the science building and felt each other up. Namjoon
wouldn’t say they’re a part of the group, they can’t be, because they’re all girls and they’ve all
been best friends for years. Namjoon does think they’re becoming welcome, though.

Dahyun and Momo were the most standoffish for the first few days, while Nayeon, Sana, and
Jeongyeon immediately folded them into conversation. It was weird, because Dahyun invited them
in the first place, but it started to seem like she did so because she felt like she thought she should,
not because she wanted to. Now, though, she and Jin have started sharing meaningful looks over
the table when people start acting excessive, and Momo clearly quietly approves of them, sitting
next to Jin at the table one day and talking to him lowly while Namjoon jokes around with
Jeongyeon.

It’s about time to head to class when Momo turns to them. “Hey, do you guys wanna hang out after
school today?” she asks. “Some of us are getting Taco Bell.”

“Sorry,” says Jin. “I have to go straight home most days. Maybe Namjoon can go?”

“Ah, it’s okay,” says Namjoon.

Momo shrugs like she doesn’t really care. “Up to you.”

Namjoon looks to Jin, trying to read his face. He doesn’t want to run around and have fun and eat
junk food with a bunch of people when Jin has to go home and suffer. Solidarity. Jin nods, though,
like it shouldn’t even be a question. “You go,” he says quietly.

So, Namjoon nods and says, “Sure, I’ll come. Thank you.”

He doesn’t have a chance to see Jin again before the end of the day. Jin has to rush to catch his bus,
and Namjoon’s locker is on the other side of the school, so it’s just not logistical. He texts Jin a lot,
though, in the afternoons. They talk until Jin’s got to go to dinner, and then usually after that. So,
today, as soon as they get to the restaurant, already full of other high schoolers (and a cashier who
sighs heavily when he sees the group amble in, like he knows what to expect from them),
Namjoon’s sending pictures and updates every couple minutes.

To: Jin

omg jeongyeon just ordered the most complicated veggie thing in the world i think the cashier
wants to killll ussssss

From: Jin
she would

To: Jin

dahyun ordered so much food and i thought it was for her and nayeon and maybe also sana but
then nayeon went to order when she was done

here’s what dahyun is eating:

a quesadilla

2 (two) chalupas

2 crunchy tacos

a chicken soft taco

a bean burrito

From: Jin

omg?

To: Jin

oh i’m not done

large nachos

“quesarito” (?)

mini churros

extra large mountain dew

From: Jin

is she taking leftovers? ask her if she’s taking leftovers? she will die

“Hey Dahyun, Jin wants to know if you’re taking leftovers.”

“Not if I can help it,” she says.

To: Jin
shes gonna try to eat it all

[img]

From: Jin

gross! wish i was there. i could use some nachos right now

snack options in my house right now: plain crackers, bananas, no sugar added cranberry juice

To: Jin

if i got you nachos hypothetically and came to your house would there be a way for me to sneakily
hand them off to you

From: Jin

nooooo

not really

well theres a weird window in one of the offices

don’t do that though i was joking

To: Jin

as your bf it is my duty to bring you nachos

From: Jin

really its ok!!! please!

but actually i won’t say no to nachos

To: Jin

i’m on it

gimme your address i’ll leave in ten

“More food?” asks Dahyun hammily through a mouthful of slime when Namjoon gets up to order.
“Not for me. I’m gonna bring Jin something.”

Sana sings, “Ooohhhhh.”

“That’s romantic,” says Jihyo. “I wish a boy would bring me Taco Bell.”

Namjoon comes back to the table to wait, fiddles with his phone.

“You really like him, huh?” says Sana next to him.

Namjoon looks up at her from Jin’s typing bubble. Of course he does. “Yeah,” he says. “Why?”

She picks at a fingernail. “I don’t know. It’s just nice to see you together, I guess. Jin said
something about how you guys just started dating, but I thought for sure you’d been together a
while.”

Namjoon feels a little surge of pride at the fact that Jin’s been candidly talking to a bunch of near-
strangers about how long they’ve been dating. But, in regards to chronology, looking back now, he
thinks they’ve been something a little more than friends for a while. They’ve only been boyfriends
since Jin said so to Dahyun and Nayeon, but Namjoon isn’t sure how long they’ve been something.
“We hung out all summer and were really close before that,” he says. “I feel like it’s been like, at
least a couple months? Maybe since July or something.”

“Still,” says Sana. “You guys know each other really well.”

Before Namjoon can reply, his number’s being called for Jin’s nachos, so he goes to get them. He
says he’s leaving, hears some scattered goodbyes and a couple quick waves, a knowing look from
Nayeon, and heads out.

Jin’s house is almost two miles away, Namjoon realizes when he actually opens the map on his
phone and figures out the best way to go. It seemed like a really good idea at the time, but he
realizes right away that he’s over half an hour away and the food’s going to be cold and soggy
when he gets there. Still, personally, he’d rather eat cold and soggy nachos than no nachos at all, so
he doesn’t feel that bad about offering the same to Jin. In fact, by the time he gets to Jin’s well-to-
do neighborhood, he’s fighting the urge to eat them himself.

When he does get there, though, trying to look inconspicuous because Jin’s address text had come
with anxiety-laced instructions to lay low, be quiet, come around the left side, text immediately, and
hide, the only thing he can feel is overwhelmed.

Namjoon knows Jin’s home life is horrible, but he can’t kill a tiny, small bit of jealousy. Not that
he doesn’t like his own house, not that it’s not a nice place to live, but it’s small and rickety and not
very impressive. It’s comfortable. Jin’s house is…. palatial? There are pillars. There are two front
doors. There’s a gazebo in the yard. There’s a balcony on the upper floor that looks like a place a
princess would stand to peer over her dominion.

It’s also, though, sort of drab. A lot of the houses in this neighborhood are pastel colored, bright,
with gardens and welcoming arches, friendly looking places even though they’re unapproachably
huge. But Jin’s house is dark-colored, brick and brown, set back in its plot and largely obscured by
trees, dark-windowed. It’s beautiful, but scary. Namjoon’s scared.

He does what Jin’s instructed him to do and slips around to the left side of the house, staying quiet
and still and texting Jin when he’s there.
From: Jin

go to the middle window w the white curtain i’ll be right down

Namjoon does, and it seems like a horrific amount of time before anything happens, but eventually
the curtains rustle and Jin’s sheepish face peers through at him. He opens the window carefully
and leans out and down at a funny angle to peck a quick kiss on Namjoon’s lips. Then he looks
scandalized at himself and whispers, “You came?”

Namjoon nods and holds up the bag with Jin’s nachos. “I had to,” he whispers. “Can you get it to
your room?”

Jin nods. “My mom and brother are on the other side of the house,” he says. “I can sneak back up.”

Namjoon nods, reaches through the open window to grab Jin’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Well,
that’s it then,” he says. It’s not that this wasn’t worth it, it just feels incomplete to be holding Jin’s
hand through an open window that’s about to shut him back out. But this is what he signed up for.

“Actually,” says Jin. “I can probably sneak you up, too.”

Namjoon shakes his head before he even has a chance to think about it. That would be a horrible
idea, right? He can’t sneak into Jin’s huge evil house.

“If we’re really careful I think it would be fine,” says Jin. “Nobody pays any attention to me.”

Namjoon says, “I can’t,” but it sounds like he wants to.

“Are you sure?” asks Jin, softly. “You’re invited.”

Namjoon wants to do the right thing, but he’s not sure what that really is. So he decides to agree
and go see his boyfriend’s bedroom for the first time.

He climbs in the window as stealthily as he can, but still ends up half-tumbling onto the mint-
carpeted floor of an office that looks purposefully anachronistic. He gets a glimpse of a dark
wooden desk and a green lamp and a stack of manila folders and a dark leather chair before Jin’s
got him by the hand and is darting him out the door and up the stairs.

Jin’s house is impressively large, but they get to his room in seconds without so much as a peep
from the mother and brother who are supposedly studying somewhere downstairs. Jin closes the
door behind him and latches it.

“Are you allowed to lock that?” whispers Namjoon.

“No,” says Jin simply, pulling the plastic container of nachos out of the worse-for-wear paper bag
like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Thank you so much.” Then he scoots closer to where Namjoon’s
sitting on the edge of the bed so his thigh slips between Namjoon’s and he rests the bowl half on
Namjoon’s leg and half on his own. He eyes it like he’s going to take a bite, but first, he leans in
for a kiss.

It starts off small but quickly turns frantic and passionate, like Jin’s scared, but mostly like he’s
tense. Namjoon can feel it, the excitement of doing something dangerous, the electricity and power
in doing what they want. Jin grabs Namjoon’s hand and doesn’t hold it so much as he presses it
into the bed, leans into the kiss so hard that Namjoon almost loses his balance and the open plastic
bowl of nachos tips precariously between them. Eventually, Namjoon gently sets it on the floor
while Jin paws at his back, and when he comes back up, Jin leans back in and laughs into
Namjoon’s mouth before self-consciously pushing him back onto the bed.

They keep fully clothed, though they toe off their shoes into a pile on the floor, one of Namjoon’s
ratty shoelaces landing in the not-quite-forgotten food. Namjoon’s got hands that wander up under
the hem of Jin’s shirts whenever they get the chance; Jin’s always pleasantly warm and smooth,
and his belly is soft and firm at the same time.

Jin hovers over Namjoon and kisses him intently. The way he’s propped up on his hands on the
bed makes him look so broad and handsome, imposing almost, which is very different from the
small way Namjoon often sees him carry himself. But right now, though he seems nervous and
painfully self-aware, he’s confident, and his lips are so sure on Namjoon’s mouth and then his jaw,
and this is the wrong place to be doing this but it almost makes it better somehow, like it matters.

“You’re so beautiful.” It comes out before Namjoon even realizes it’s in his mouth, slipping into
the air they’re both breathing, between forced-quiet kisses.

Jin, now on his side facing Namjoon, arm thrown over him, curled up with chests pressing and legs
tangled, kisses Namjoon quickly, intensely, and then pulls back, their noses brushing, to whisper
back. “I’m what?”

Namjoon doesn’t want to say it again, but Jin’s looking at him like he needs to hear it. Like it
means more to him than Namjoon realizes. So he reaches over to brush Jin’s hair out of his face
and says, again, notably more awkward, “You’re beautiful.”

The smile that spreads on Jin’s face is one that Namjoon has only seen a few times. It’s the wide-
eyed way he looks, Namjoon thinks, when he realizes something’s allowed.

“Beautiful,” says Namjoon again, just to prove it.

Jin basks in that for a minute, eyes unfocusing, hands wandering idly down Namjoon’s back, his
arms. Then, his eyes seem to catch on something and suddenly he’s stiff and pressing away from
Namjoon to sit up. “Sorry,” he whispers. “It’s so much later than I thought.”

Namjoon understands the sudden anxiety, he shares it, but it’s not welcome. Jin’s voice is so
hushed when he says, “My dad’s supposed to be home really soon. My mom’s probably already in
the kitchen. Shit.”

“What do we do?” whispers Namjoon.

“I’m gonna go see if she’s down there. Be right back.”

He slips through the crack in his door like it won’t open wide enough for him to fit without
squeezing, presses it closed so deliberately, and leaves Namjoon alone for the longest minute of his
life. Namjoon thinks about hiding somewhere, but that would be a strange thing for Jin to walk
back in to. Anyway, Namjoon isn’t nervous.

Jin does come back, though, and he looks relieved. “We’re safe if we hurry,” he says.

The scariest moment of Namjoon’s life is when, trying to slip past the open entrance to the kitchen,
Jin’s mom calls out, “Seokjin?”

Jin shoves Namjoon out of the way, lingering in the kitchen entrance while Namjoon cowers,
answering her easily. “Sorry. I left some homework in the office.”
“You were in there?” she says.

“Yeah, studying,” he replies, and follows Namjoon.

“Oh my god,” whispers Namjoon as Jin practically shoves him out the window.

“Fuck, go, I’ll text you,” says Jin. “Love you, bye.” And he closes the window on him.

Caution slowly fades away after that. Still, Jin’s very different when people are around, holding
himself very separate from Namjoon and generally looking stiffer. Namjoon remembers when he
thought Jin just was stiff like that, and feels so grateful to know the real person in there. That stiff
posture, those tight shoulders and cold eyes only come out when he feels like he’s got something to
prove, and it’s getting rarer when they’re together.

Namjoon’s got a class with Wonwoo, so they stay pretty caught up, but they’re clearly not as close
as they used to be. There’s some weird tension between them lately, like Wonwoo wants to say
something but he doesn’t know how, or even what. Namjoon sort of feels the same way. They’ve
been friends for a long time, them and Mingyu. Mingyu’s not even in the right district for their high
school but he begged his parents enough that they enrolled him here just so he could stay with his
friends from middle school. But, Mingyu and Wonwoo have their own thing that Namjoon’s not a
part of anymore, and they make fun of Namjoon for caring about stuff, and all they want to do is
sit around and play video games all the time. Which is fine, and Namjoon’s on board with that, but
it’s not what he wants to be doing. He’s been drifting away from them for a while; he thought it
was just natural that he’d leave them to it eventually. It seems like Wonwoo’s on a different page,
though, like every day when they talk before math class it gets further laced with something else.

Finally, catching up to Namjoon after class before lunch, Wonwoo says something. “Hey, are we
cool?” he says, ever-blunt.

“Of course,” says Namjoon. “Definitely. Why?”

“You hang out with lame debate guy instead of us now, and I feel like we’re a lot cooler than he is,
so like, I just wonder if you think we’re lame now or something.”

Namjoon snorts, he can’t help it. Jin’s not even in debate anymore. “Uhh,” he says. “I don’t think
you guys are lame. Jin and I just have a lot to talk about. We hung out a bit over the summer, so,”
Namjoon trails off.

“Wait, his name is Jin? I thought it was something else?”

“Uhh, well, it’s Seokjin. But, generally—”

Wonwoo cuts him off. “Oh, wait, you’re dating?”

Namjoon lets out a tight breath. “Yeah. But don’t talk about it.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I won’t.” He squints at Namjoon. “We just thought you were giving in to the
man,” he says, and Namjoon snickers. “It’s different if you’re dating. He seems lame, but I guess
he’s hot.”

“Since when do you know about hot guys?”

“I can appreciate a dude, Namjoon,” says Wonwoo seriously. “I don’t have my head so far up my
ass that I can’t tell when a guy looks good. So, whatever, good job.”

“I mean,” says Namjoon, “He’s a really cool person, actually.”

“Is he? He looks fuckin’ square.”

“He does,” Namjoon agrees. “But he’s really cool when you get to know him.”

“Gross, you love him.”

“Fuck off.”

Wonwoo laughs, Namjoon grins, and it seems like things are settled. “I’m gonna tell Mingyu,
okay? He told me he was one pair of canvas shoes away from giving you a swirly yesterday.”

“I don’t wear canvas shoes,” Namjoon says, horrified.

“That’s what I told him. He said you might as well be. So I’m gonna tell him so he knows you
haven’t given in to the system.”

Namjoon nods. Wonwoo says, “Well, I’m gonna go. Have fun with your boyfriend or whatever.”

“Yeah, talk to you later,” says Namjoon.

Jin and Namjoon once sneaked around like they’d die if anybody knew about them, but, as time
goes on, they care less and less. Namjoon, really, never cared, but he gets it. What he and Jin have
is something that doesn’t have to do with other people, anyway. He doesn’t need to talk about it,
though sometimes he wants to. He doesn’t need to brag, though maybe he would if he could. They
don’t need to go on real dates, though Namjoon thinks that if they did, it would be nice. If they
went out together, Namjoon would insist on paying until Jin accepted it. He thinks Jin would argue
at first, but ultimately get glowy and warm when he realized he had no choice in it, he was going to
be taken care of either way.

But, they don’t go on dates. However, Namjoon sneaks into Jin’s house through the office window
so many times that it almost loses the danger that makes them both feel urgent. Almost, but not
quite. Like once, when Jin’s dad comes home early and almost catches them. He knocks, calling
through the bedroom door and both of them go so still, not even breathing for a second, sure
they’re completely dead. Then, Jin’s dad jiggles the handle.

“Seokjin,” he says, sounding punitive. “You’re not allowed to lock this. I’ll take your door off it’s
hinges if you can’t listen to me.”

“Sorry,” says Jin, sounding sleepy even though thirty seconds ago he was fully alert and feeling
Namjoon up through his pants. “I was taking a nap and Suhyeon kept bothering me. Hang on.”

He shoves Namjoon out of the bed and points emphatically to the closet. Namjoon slips in and
closes the door around while Jin goes to deal with his dad. He opens it a crack and says again,
“Sorry.”

“Suhyeon’s not an excuse,” his dad says, in exactly the way Namjoon expected. In his head, when
he thinks about the way Jin’s dad talks to him, it’s like he’s always trying to teach him something,
using every move Jin makes as an opportunity to criticize and patronize. Namjoon, then, is not
surprised. “Anyway,” his dad says, shortly, like he’s not interested, “Your mom’s ordering takeout.
She wants to know what you want.”

“Chicken sounds good,” says Jin. “Chicken whatever.”

“Did you not want to come downstairs and tell your mother that yourself?”

Namjoon can almost hear Jin roll his eyes and take a second before he says, tightly, “Yep, okay.”

He’s gone for a few minutes before he gets back upstairs, shuts and locks the door again. Goes to
Namjoon, who’s still in the closet, and opens the door to let him out. He grabs the back of his neck
and pulls him in to kiss him, like it’s second nature. “I have no idea how to get you out,” he
whispers. “I don’t know if there’s gonna be a chance for a while.”

So, Namjoon spends the night.

He texts his mom to tell her his problem, and she’s predictably furious. She says she’s going to
have to start expecting him home at 3:30 every day if he can’t be responsible for himself, and he
promises he’s never going to do it again, and eventually it’s clear that she’s more worried than
anything. She begs both of them to stay safe. Send Jin my love, she says.

It’s logistically pretty easy. Namjoon sits, tense and alert, alone in Jin’s room while he’s downstairs
for dinner. When he comes back up, he’s sure that he won’t be bothered again until the morning,
when his mom will come in and wake him up at 6:30. She’ll leave with Suhyeon before Jin has to
go catch the bus, and his dad will still be asleep. So, all they have to do is make sure Namjoon’s
hiding somewhere when Jin’s mom cracks the door in the morning and they’ll be completely in the
clear.

Because they’re so worried that tonight might be the one time that someone comes to bother Jin,
and because they’re so serious about making sure that they’re safe in the morning, and because
spending the night together is really fascinating, they don’t get a lot of sleep.

Namjoon puts on a pair of shorts and a big shirt that Jin loans him, and when Jin puts on his own
loose, comfortable pajamas, Namjoon almost cries. Jin, always, is a very modestly-dressed person.
In the summer, he wore shorts and t-shirts, but they were always sort of prim, even after he’d been
sweating all day. At school, he wears long pants and cardigans every day. Most of his shirts have
collars and buttons, most of his pants are made of nicer fabric than denim, and, as far as Namjoon
knows, all his shoes are closed-toed. So, even though he’s seen Jin shirtless before, he’s never seen
him in something that looks so comfortable. His hair is all mussed up and he looks small in his
shirt, which has some college logo and a coat of arms and is so tattered that it might have once
belonged to one of his parents. His shorts barely peek out under the hem of his shirt. Namjoon
can’t hide how impressed he is.

“That bad?” whispers Jin.

Namjoon shakes his head emphatically. Jin seems to get it. They both tumble into the bed, where
they’ve already spent several hours today, and the big shirts eventually become a hindrance to how
close they want to be, and by the time they fall into a fitful, anxious sleep together, they’re bare-
chested and warm and tangled and Namjoon’s so comfortable even though the bed’s too small and
they’re hardly a wall away from danger.

They don’t sleep much, and Namjoon’s already half-alert when his phone buzzes under his pillow
at 6:10, so he goes to the closet and sits on the floor there, scrolling around on his phone until the
door cracks and he hears Jin’s mom tell him it’s time to get up.
It is easy for them to slip out unnoticed, and Jin seems really excited about it. He holds Namjoon’s
hand for a little bit on the walk to the bus. Then, when they’re almost to the stop, Jin says, “Wanna
walk to school?”

“It’s like two miles,” says Namjoon. “We’ll be late.”

“But it’s so nice outside. I don’t really care.”

Namjoon nods. On principle, he doesn’t mind skipping class, though he’s really trying to be better
about it this year. “You’re right, let’s walk,” he says.

They’re so late for first period that it doesn’t make sense to show up until second, and it just seems
awkward to slip in then, so Namjoon suggests they get breakfast and go to class during the short
break between second and third. He's ravenous anyway, having only eaten filched takeout leftovers
that Jin snagged from the fridge for him after everyone else was asleep. Jin says that sounds good,
so they go to McDonald’s and Namjoon insists on paying for Jin’s McGriddle, and Jin protests,
saying he has five dollars in his pocket, until Namjoon wears him down and sneakily orders him
more food than the small thing that he originally said he wanted. Namjoon knows Jin; Jin is always
hungry. He orders from a cashier who eyes him like she knows he’s skipping school, but she
doesn’t say anything. When Namjoon comes to the table with the loaded tray, Jin looks just as
warm and glowy as Namjoon thought he would be. He doesn’t want to be a sap, but as they’re
leaving, he says, “That was our first date.”

“Gross first date,” says Jin. “Can we pretend it wasn’t and do something else instead?”

“Oh, definitely,” says Namjoon.

They avoid being caught so many times, when they’re careful and when they’re not, that it starts to
feel like it’s not even a risk anymore. Namjoon slept over at Jin’s house. They hang out with the
only gay people at school and Namjoon’s pretty sure nobody’s even noticed they’re dating. At
least, he thinks they haven’t, because he thinks he’d hear about it or at least notice people looking
at him, but he’s as invisible as always. Seems like Jin’s doing well, too. Namjoon sees him with his
uppity friend Jisoo on the days when he has to go to student council, and even though Jin looks
uncomfortable and bored, Jisoo seems happy to talk to him. Namjoon wonders what Jisoo even has
to talk about; he looks like a cardboard person and seems so self-aware that it looks almost painful.
Namjoon doesn’t like him, and Jin doesn’t really either, but Jin’s got to maintain some sort of
friendship with him or it could get back to his dad that he’s being a jerk to his “best friend.” Jisoo,
though, is often busy now, being the new Junior Class President, and taking it all very seriously.

In the end, they aren’t caught any of the times they flagrantly disregard rules in plain sight. They’re
not caught for anything like that. They’re caught for something else.

It’s a Thursday in December, and it’s bitingly cold out, and the walk to Namjoon’s house after
school is incredibly uncomfortable, so they decide to spend their allotted twenty minutes under
Namjoon’s covers saving up warmth before they have to walk back. They’ve got their coats on the
heater and they’re huddled up close. Jin’s phone rings. He ignores it. It rings again. He looks at the
caller ID.

“Shit,” he says, blanching. “It’s my dad.”

“Oh no,” says Namjoon, mouth going dry. Jin’s dad is literally never good news.
Jin props himself up, swallows hard, and answers. “Hello?” His voice is weak.

Namjoon can’t hear the words, but Jin’s dad sounds upset. Not so much angry as stressed.

“Oh no,” says Jin. “Oh no, is he okay?”

More garbled sounds.

“Okay. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.” Jin sounds horrified. Snippy sounds. “You’re there right
now? Dad, dad. Listen. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I’m not there.” Sounds that do seem angry now.
“No, I’m not. Can we talk about it later? Let me give you an address. I’m a five minute drive
away.” He looks terrified, but resigned, and he mimes writing at Namjoon, who pulls out his own
phone and types his address into a note. He hands it to Jin.

“Dad, we can talk about this later. Let me give you the address.”

It sounds like his dad’s screaming, and Jin’s flinching, and there are tears standing in his eyes, but
he’s sitting straight and speaking calmly. “Please just come get me, we can talk about it later.”

His dad yells something, and Jin reads the address, says, “Okay. I’ll see you in a minute,” and
hangs up.

“Oh no,” says Namjoon quietly.

Jin nods. “Oh no.”

"What happened?" asks Namjoon with a sticky throat.

Jin takes a deep breath that hitches. ”I think Suhyeon had a seizure," he says. "My mom took him
to the hospital and my dad's coming to get me and take me, too."

"Oh no," says Namjoon again.

"I don't know if he's okay or not," Jin says.

"Are you okay?" asks Namjoon.

Jin shoots him a look that's meant to be sarcastic, meant to say what do you think, but starts crying
before it has any useful effect.

That was a stupid question. Namjoon pulls him in for a huge hug, rubbing his back against the sob
that Jin lets out against his chest. He cries hard for a minute but calms himself down professionally,
and it seems like it hurts and Namjoon wishes he could just tell Jin to get it out, because the way
that sob ripped through him was a lot more than just worry for his brother, but there’s no time for it
and Namjoon just tries to soothe him. He kisses Jin’s head and squeezes him even tighter.

When he can breathe again, Jin says, defeatedly, ”I have to be ready when he gets here.” It’s
muffled into Namjoon's shirt.

Namjoon rubs his back for another minute before he lets him go, though. Then he gets Jin's coat
for him while he gets out of bed and scrubs at his eyes.

Jin gets another call before his shoes are fully on and his voice hitches when he answers it.
"Hello?” he says. “Okay, I'm coming."

Namjoon’s mom’s got her work spread out on the coffee table. She looks up at Namjoon like she
 might know what’s happening. They go to the front door and Jin wraps his arms around Namjoon’s
neck and gives him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then he whispers, “If I die, just know that
I love you.” He says it sort of like it’s a joke, like he’s making light of a hard situation, but he
actually looks like he might believe what he’s saying, and Namjoon is so, so worried, and there’s
nothing he can do about it.

“I love you, too,” says Namjoon. “Be safe.”

“Okay,” says Jin. “Bye.”

And Jin tightens his scarf and walks out into the cold afternoon to get into his dad’s sleek black
car.

Chapter End Notes

i understand if you need to doxx me

 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The drive was dead silent, but not in a way that bought time. Jin’s dad was tense and stiff, and
while he ignored Jin’s presence completely, it was clear that he was aware of him, and angry.
Maybe too angry even to think of anything to say, maybe afraid of what he might do if he
acknowledged Jin there. He breathed hard and a knot in his jaw clenched and unclenched as he
drove, sharp eyes trained unfailingly on the road ahead of him.

Now they’re in the hall outside Suhyeon’s hospital room. Jin and his dad haven’t seen him yet, but
his mom says he’s awake and talking to a doctor right now. Her eyes are puffy but her makeup’s
still perfect, like she fixed it after crying. It’s not until the three of them, Jin and his mom and his
dad, are all sitting there in the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the blue-white fluorescent light of
the hospital hallway, that Jin’s presence is even mentioned. Even then, though, it’s not direct. Jin’s
dad says, over his head, to his mom, “Seokjin wasn’t at tutoring today.”

Jin didn’t expect his mom to stick up for him. He doesn’t know what he expected; admitting that
he thought she might be compassionate makes him want to laugh at himself. Of course she
wouldn’t be. She isn’t. She says, like she doesn’t already know, “He wasn’t? Where was he?”

“The house where that boy who hit him last year lives.”

At this point, Jin’s already crying, or maybe he’s just still crying from before. This is too much.
His parents are talking about him and he’s right there. His brother, who he hates, but still, his
brother, might be really hurt. It’s cold; he’s so cold, even in his coat. He’s going to be in trouble for
the rest of his life. But, he was already going to be in trouble for the rest of his life, and he’s just
fucking tired of it. He’s so tired of being ignored and he’s tired of his parents making him cry. This
is the wrong time for them to be treating him like this. He’s crying, but he speaks up. “He’s more
than just some kid who hit me last year.”

“Clearly,” says his dad, disgusted, and Jin knows that he knows.

But, of course, he has to confirm it, just so that when he completely murders Jin, he’ll know for
sure that he was right to do so. “Give me your phone,” he says.

“Can I not?” says Jin, horrified. He’d rather just admit it than have his dad wither every good thing
in his life by looking at it. “Please?”

“You’re not in a place to ask for clemency right now,” he says. “Really, Seokjin, Suhyeon is very
sick, this isn’t about you. Give me your phone.”

Jin thinks quickly about throwing it at the wall or something, breaking it, or getting up and leaving.
It’s a well-asserted rule in their house—parents are allowed full access to everything on Jin and
Suhyeon’s phones. But, it’s been years since anybody’s tried to look at Jin’s messages. His parents
don’t care enough to read the mundane things he says back and forth with Jisoo, the horrible,
awkward exchanges he used to have with a girl from church his parents wanted him to like. It’s
been a long time since Jin even remembered that he’s not supposed to be allowed privacy, and now
there’s so much that his dad has the power to ruin. Not just messages with Namjoon, but also with
Dahyun, whose parents treated her so badly when she started dating Nayeon that she moved in with
her uncle. They’ve been talking a lot; Dahyun comes off a little distant but is actually really
sensitive and understanding. His phone’s also full of encouraging messages from Namjoon’s mom.
Jin realizes that he has her saved as Mom and feels like he’s going to throw up. He’s got pictures of
Namjoon in his phone, pictures of them together, fucking pictures of them together with Namjoon
wearing Jin’s own pajamas in Jin’s own room. Jin might be dead now, but if his dad looks at his
phone, he is really fucking dead.

It would be better to just admit it, right? It would be braver just to say it. Not to give into this weird
possessive power trip. Take control of his own things, his own relationships, his own life. Yeah. It
would be better to admit it. So, he says, “If I tell you what you want to hear, can I keep my phone?”

“I’m not bargaining with you, Seokjin. Give it to me.” The way he says it is so smug, like he loves
that he’s got Jin in tears, that he’s got the upper hand no matter what in this situation. Jin’s hands
are shaking, he’s trying hard to keep from sobbing. He can’t cry hard; he’s got to be able to talk
reasonably. His dad is so reasonable. He thinks that if he’s so mean to someone that they start
crying, that means he’s won the argument. And maybe he usually has, because he’s scary, and he’s
good at bullying people into giving him what he wants, but Jin’s not going to let that happen right
now.

“I will break my phone,” Jin says. “You’re not going to look at it. It’s mine.”

“So you pay for it, then? Funny, I thought the bill came to me. I thought I bought you your nice
phone when you were trying harder in school.” He’s so smug, he loves making Jin miserable.

“Fuck you,” spits Jin without thinking, not even realizing how absolutely suicidal it is to say
something like that to his father. He’s spent too much time with people who curse lately. Fuck you
means something different to Seokjin’s parents than it does to Namjoon, or Momo, who swears
like a sailor. He’s dead. He’s fucking dead. “Sorry,” he says quickly, automatically, as soon as he
realizes what he’s done.

Instead of bellowing, probably only because he’s in a hospital hallway right now, Jin’s dad gets
very, very quiet. His voice is so tight, sharp, controlled, like it’s taking all the energy in the world
to keep from exploding violently, like he wants Jin dead. “Do not ever, ever speak to me like that,”
he says. Then, even thinner, sharper, staccato, he says, “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” says Jin, louder than he meant to. “Why? What are you looking for?” Jin’s dad looks
ready to snap, but Jin goes on. “Do you want proof that I’m dating Namjoon? Is that what you’re
looking for?” Jin hears his mom gasp, but he doesn’t look at her. She’s not a part of this, and that’s
been her choice all along.

Then nobody say anything for a minute. Somehow, even though Jin knows this is the moment of
dead silence before the sound of the explosion hits, can see its destruction starting to spread even
though it’s not truly real yet, there’s something exhilarating about saying it.

“You’re what?” his dad strangles.

“Dating Namjoon,” he repeats, clearly.

His dad looks, for a second, almost scared. Then he’s the cold, calculated, mean person Jin knows
again. “Not anymore,” he says. “You’re not dating him anymore.”

The thing is, Jin hears statements like this a lot. They always sound very final, like his dad really
has control. But, he doesn’t, Jin’s learned. He doesn’t have control over anything. Jin’s been
sneaking around consistently for the better part of a year, he’s been dating Namjoon for months, he
quit debate and never said anything about it and as far as he knows, his dad thinks he’s still going.
His parents are not omniscient, and just because they say something doesn’t make it true. His dad’s
a fucking bully, Suhyeon’s a sick bully, his mom just watches them treat Jin like this, and he
doesn’t have to deal with it. They’re shitty. He hates them. They hate him. It’s mutual. And his dad
absolutely does not get to decide whether or not he dates Namjoon. “Yes, I am,” says Jin. “You
don’t decide that.”

“Do I need to take you out of school?”

Jin rolls his eyes. He gets threatened with this a lot, but his mom doesn’t want to teach them both,
now that Suhyeon’s so advanced. And he knows even people as low as his parents wouldn’t enroll
him in online school for his last semester while Suhyeon went to private tutors and worked on 11th
grade math. That would make them look bad, so they wouldn’t do it. “No,” says Jin, “And if you
did, I’d see him anyway.”

A doctor comes out of Suhyeon’s room then, and probably sees the tears on Jin’s face, and, Jin
realizes now, also his mom’s, and the pale, panicky, horrified expression on his dad as a family
afraid for their kid. And they are. They are. Jin’s dad is the first to calm down, eerily smooth and
saccharine as he asks the doctor, “How is he?”

The doctor nods and pulls out her clipboard to leaf through a couple of pages. “He’s going to be
fine,” she says. “A lot of people who have one seizure don’t ever have another, but he’s going to
need to be watched closely for a little while just in case. I’m going to prescribe him a medication
that should make it less likely, but unfortunately, we don’t know if this will develop into epilepsy
until another seizure either happens or doesn’t. But, for now, he’s stable.”

“What caused this?” says Jin’s dad.

“Anything, nothing, everything,” says the doctor. “It doesn’t sound like it runs in your family, but
that’s fairly common. It sounds like Suhyeon’s been stressed, losing sleep, and there’s a lot
changing in his brain during early puberty. If he starts resting better, he’ll get well quicker and
have a smaller chance of another seizure.”

Jin is surprised to hear that Suhyeon told a doctor he was stressed out. Suhyeon is basically good at
everything, and Jin’s never seen him act stressed. But, then again, Jin used to pretend he wasn’t
stressed, and it hurt so much that he’d probably have had a seizure, too, if he was at all prone to
them. For a minute, he wonders if there’s a real person inside of smug, manipulative, eager-to
please, little shit Suhyeon. But Suhyeon dumped out all Jin’s shampoo last week, and when Jin
asked for more, his dad got so mad at him for wasting it, and when he did get him a new bottle it
was the cheap stuff that makes his hair really crinkly and dry, and he’s pretty sure Suhyeon
planned the entire thing, because he’s evil and knows that all Jin wants is shiny hair and to be left
alone. Suhyeon told his dad that Jin had been pilfering his pencils, and then he’d pointed to Jin’s
favorite pencil: blue, smooth, good eraser, comfortable grip, and said, “That’s mine,” and Jin’s dad
made him give it up. So, there’s probably not a real person in there.

The doctor says they’re allowed to go see Suhyeon. He looks tired and a little shell-shocked but
generally okay. The doctor says he’ll be discharged in the morning, and Jin’s mom says she’ll stay
here with him. But that leaves Jin and his dad alone at home all night. Jin tries to give his mom a
pleading look when that plan is proposed. It’s a hard situation for her, for everyone, but Jin’s hurt
and disappointed. Suhyeon is sick and he’s stuck in the hospital, and he needs her right now, but
Jin’s dad is being so scary and unpredictable, going from yelling to whispering to sweet-talking
doctors and comforting Suhyeon; he’s so tense and he won’t look at Jin at all, and Jin has just
dropped a bomb that he’s known for years is a make-or-break for his dad. His mom is choosing
Suhyeon’s comfort over Jin’s safety, and he hates himself for being surprised.
He hates himself, also, for crying in the car, where he’s ignored again, even more violently, even
more angrily. He’s sure that his dad’s planning what to say, that when they get home it’s going to
really blow up. Having to wait for the fallout is the worst part.

Even the new Jin, the Jin who’s grown up a lot this year, who quit debate, who loves Namjoon,
who’s skipped class before, who doesn’t care if he gets into the best school he applies for, who
actually likes himself sometimes, is not ready for this. Nobody would be. Jin’s not ashamed, but
he’s afraid. He wishes he hadn’t had the guts to say what he said in the hospital, but it was such a
surreal place, he’s not even sure he realized what was happening.

When they get inside, Jin’s dad slams the door open, hangs up his coat and his bag, and goes into
his room. Jin stands awkwardly in the doorway, thinking he’s going to come back out in a minute.
Maybe he needs to change into something comfortable before he can bellow as loud as he needs to.
But, after a minute, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to come out of the room, and Jin slowly shuffles
upstairs, confused.

When he gets up there, he realizes he hasn’t looked at his phone in a couple hours. He’s been too
afraid that his dad will snatch it out of his hand and look through it. He hasn’t updated Namjoon at
all, though, and he must be terrified.

He latches the door before he checks his phone. There are ten messages from Namjoon. None of
them seem fully frantic, and Namjoon begs Jin several times to do what he needs to do, but to text
him as soon as he gets the chance.

Instead of doing that, he calls.

Namjoon answers on the first ring, like he’s holding his phone and waiting. Jin catches the tail end
of Namjoon saying, “It’s him,” before Namjoon says through a huge, full breath of relief, “Hi.”

Jin’s just weepy right now. Namjoon’s worry for him, his warm, caramelly voice, how happy he
seems to hear from Jin right now, it’s overwhelming, and Jin can’t react any way but by crying.
He’s stopped himself from indulging harsh, solid cries so many times already today, and every
single thing is too much, and he’s so alone and cold even though Namjoon is there caring so much,
and he’s not sure if he can stop crying now that he’s started.

“Sorry,” he manages to sputter after several tries, falling over sideways on top of his bed and
curling up. “Sorry, I’ll call you back,” he says, but even then there’s a new one tearing through him
and his words get garbled.

“Hey, it’s okay,” says Namjoon. “Do you wanna talk to Mom?”

“Okay,” says Jin difficultly, pinching his lips and closing his eyes tight against the haggard sounds
that bubble out of him.

The phone rustles for a minute and Namjoon’s mom says, “Hey, honey.”

“Hi,” says Jin. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just try to breathe.” He does, and she mutters comfortingly at him until he’s under
control. Having her steady, loving presence there with him, saying he’s okay, telling him to
breathe, to think about something warm, helps a lot. When she hands him back to Namjoon he’s
just quietly sniffling.

“Hi,” says Namjoon again.

“Hey,” says Jin. “Sorry. I should have texted sooner. My dad was trying to take my phone.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think so,” says Jin. “I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

Jin lifts the collar of his shirt over his face and wipes his eyes with it. “Well,” he says, “Suhyeon
had a seizure, and my dad tried to take my phone, but I couldn’t let him have it, so I just told him.
About us, and I told him I wasn’t going to stop seeing you.”

“How did it go?”

Jin laughs but tears come out, too. “You know, horribly. But we were in the hospital so he couldn’t
do anything.”

“Are you home now?”

“Yeah, but my mom stayed with Suhyeon, so it’s just my dad and I here now.”

“Has he done anything?”

“No, he went into his room and he hasn’t come out.”

“Can you hang on for one second?”

“Okay.”

Jin can hear Namjoon and his mom talking, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. Then
Namjoon’s back, and he says, “My mom wants to know if you’d like to spend the night here.”

“Yes,” says Jin, without thinking. “I would.”

Twenty minutes later, with pajamas and a toothbrush crammed into his backpack, Jin runs down
the stairs to meet Namjoon and his mom, who took a cab here. He knows a moment of the world’s
truest panic when he sees his dad sitting in the living room, but he doesn’t so much as look up at
Jin when he slows to a walk and slips out the front door, closing and locking it behind him.

In the backseat of the taxi, Namjoon gives Jin an awkward hug and then throws his arm around his
shoulder, pulling him in. It’s a weird ride, and Jin doesn’t have anything to say.

When they get to Namjoon’s house, Jin immediately feels a lot better. Not good, but he thinks he
can bear it. Namjoon’s house is cozy, and the people here care about him. Jin doesn’t have to think
about where to put his stuff, he just goes to Namjoon’s room and throws it onto the bed, then
comes into the living room to plop down on the couch. He’s shaky, he feels bad, but at least he’s
here. It feels like he’s just gotten home.

“We haven’t eaten yet,” says Namjoon’s mom. Jin glances at the clock and sees that it’s not even
eight. It feels like it’s been days since he was here last, but it’s been hours. It gets dark so early in
the winter. “Wanna help out?”

Jin does, and he ends up mostly taking control of the recipe and delegating tasks to Namjoon’s
mom. It makes him feel better; it focuses him. The food ends up good, and he’s proud that he
helped make it.

After they eat, Jin and Namjoon go to Namjoon’s room. They do homework together for a few
minutes, because even though there are more important things in the world, finals start in a week
and they’re not immune. However, the studying doesn’t last very long, because Jin can’t focus and
he keeps tearing up when he thinks too hard, just because he can’t handle anything right now, and
he and Namjoon end up sprawled out on top of the covers just quietly wrapped up in each other,
Jin’s head on Namjoon’s chest, Namjoon stroking his hair.

They take turns getting ready for bed, Jin first. Then Namjoon needs a shower, and while he’s in
there, his mom knocks on the doorframe outside Namjoon’s room.

“Hey,” she says. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

She sits on the edge of the bed, near where Jin’s sitting cross-legged hunched over his phone.
“How’s it going?” she asks.

Jin shrugs. He doesn’t want to think about it too much. He feels okay because he’s here, on
Namjoon’s bed, being looked after. He doesn’t want to have to take stock of everything else.

“That makes sense,” she says. “I just wanted to ask you if you had a… plan for the next few days?”

Jin hasn’t thought about that at all. He doesn’t want to. “No,” he says.

“Do you think you can go home?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m worried about you,” she says. “You can stay here, but I don’t want that to make things
worse.”

“I don’t things can get worse,” he says.

“Not to be morbid,” she says, “But if he hasn’t laid hands on you then it could get worse.”

Jin swallows hard. “I don’t think he would do that.” His parents wouldn’t do something like that
because they don’t do things they can’t make excuses for. They can quietly phase Jin out of the
family and use any excuse to criticize him, but if he were to call them on it they’d just say he was
overreacting. If they were to hit him, they couldn’t blame him for it. They’re crueler than that.
They’re more cunning than that. Jin acts like someone who’s been hit; he’s easily scared, timid,
quick to submit. Arguments stress him out. He apologizes for everything. It’s not like they’ve
never hurt him.

“That’s good,” says Namjoon’s mom.

“I guess,” says Jin. “Yeah.”

“Well, if you need to stay here for a few days you can. If you need me to come with you when you
go to pick up clothes, I will. I won’t make you think about talking with them yet.”

“Okay,” says Jin, eternally grateful that he doesn’t have to be the one to ask for help like this,
because he never would. So grateful that she so lovingly reaches out, and has proven so many
times that she wouldn’t offer if she didn’t really mean it, if she expected something in return.
“I love you, kid,” she says. “I’m gonna be here for you.” She offers a hug that Jin takes gratefully.
He’s bigger than her, but she squeezes him so tight and so loving that he’d never know. Namjoon
comes into the room, then, clean and in his pajamas.

“So, guys,” his mom says, getting up. “You can sleep in here together if you want, but you have to
keep the door open and expect me to check on you every time I get up, okay?”

Namjoon groans, but accepts. “Whatever.”

“I just have to have standards for what I let teenage boys do in my home. Don’t do anything you
don’t want me to see.”

When she leaves, Namjoon calls at her back, “Having a cool mom sucks!”

School the next day isn’t terrible, it’s honestly a relief. It’s structure, and distraction, and a million
people who have no reason to think Jin isn’t just fine. It’s student council day, so he’s supposed to
go there for lunch, but he doesn’t. He wants to sit with his friends. Now that it’s cold out, they
spend lunch in one of the art classrooms. Some of the girls have had this teacher for several years
running, and they’ve all loved her and treat her sort of like an unofficial advisor, so even though
they get in the way and make a ton of noise, she takes pity and shares her classroom with them.

Jin walks in and Namjoon’s already there, sitting on top of a desk opposite Nayeon, chatting about
something that Jin doesn’t know anything about. Some nerd thing. Jin hears a bunch of buzzwords
that he can’t wholly define, like druid and ranger.

“‘Sup?” he asks, sitting on the desk next to Namjoon and groping for his hand.

“Hypothetically, would you play a game with us?” says Namjoon. “If I promised it would be really
fun? Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at student council?”

“Honestly, fuck student council,” says Jin. “I can’t deal with those people right now.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how you ever dealt with those people,” says Namjoon. “Anyway, Nayeon
plays Dungeons and Dragons, did you know that?”

Jin swears he doesn’t mean for his interest to sound feigned when he says, “No way?”

“She does, and so do I, and apparently so does Momo.”

Nayeon nods. “Momo’s really good. She could be dungeonmaster.”

“I don’t want to be dungeonmaster,” says Momo from across the room. “I don’t even play
anymore.”

“Like hell you don’t,” says Jeongyeon. “You just need to get your fire back.”

Nayeon leans in and says, secretively, “She played this huge game with these college students last
year and completely blew it in this huge dungeon, ruined everything and died and took two of her
party members down with her. She says she’s given it up for life but I swear she’ll come around.”

“I won’t,” says Momo. “And I’ll never DM.”

“Okay, Namjoon, could you DM?”

“Fuck no,” calls Momo across the room. “You think I’d play a game with a bunch of girls and let a
dude DM? No way.”

“Jin might play,” says Nayeon. “It wouldn’t be all girls.”

“Whatever, you know Jin’s character would be some gentle princess or something, so he hardly
counts.” Then she adds, “Sorry, Jin,” but she’s clearly not sorry; even though she says gentle
princess like it’s a bad thing, she’s got a softness to her tone that Jin has come to learn means she’s
messing with him.

“No, I probably would,” he says.

“Anyway,” says Nayeon, diplomatic, “Momo or no, there are still a bunch of us. Does anybody
actually want to play?”

“Nope,” says Dahyun. “Never.”

“I will if everyone else does,” says Sana.

“Kinda no,” says Chaeyoung.

Nayeon sighs dramatically. “That’s fine,” she says, “that you all hate fun so much.”

Namjoon shrugs, obviously not that bothered, and goes back to talking to Nayeon about some
crazy way he beat up some horrible monster once. Jin doesn’t know what Namjoon means when
he says, “Then I rolled a nineteen,” but he seems very excited, and Jin thinks that’s cute.

Eventually, though, he turns to Jin and asks, “How are you doing?”

Jin shrugs. “I think I should go home today,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Jin. “I’ve been thinking about it. I should be there for Suhyeon if I can. And um. I’m
really tired of feeling like this. I don’t want to keep hiding. I don’t think I’ll calm down until I go
talk to them.”

“Should I come with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I think I can handle it. But thank you.” Then he says lowly, playing with Namjoon’s
fingers, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” says Namjoon.

Jin takes the bus home.

Both cars are in the driveway. His dad must be working from home today because of Suhyeon. He
thinks this was a bad idea but he doesn’t turn around. He stands in the yard, looking at the house in
a new way, like it’s not his anymore. The dark brick, the pine trees that partially obscure it, the
glossy doors. Then he goes inside.

Nobody’s in the living room, but Jin can hear his dad clacking on his laptop in his office. He
wonders if he should find his mom first, but that would be more dramatic than he wants right now.
He just wants to get it over with. The worst part’s already over, anyway.
So, he knocks on the almost-closed door, backpack still slung over his shoulder.

“Who is it?” comes his dad’s voice.

“Hey, um, it’s Seokjin.”

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

A pause. “Fine.”

He goes in and sits in the chair on the other side of his dad’s desk. It’s like he’s being interviewed.
Or it would be, if his dad spared a glance away from his laptop screen.

“So,” says Jin awkwardly once he’s settled stiffly in the deep leather chair, backpack on the floor.

“Well?” says his dad noncommittally, focusing on something else.

“Did we… need to talk?” asks Jin.

“Did we?”

“I thought we did,” says Jin, starting to feel shaky.

His dad sighs. “Then talk.”

Jin doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say or do here. There are no words available. This is not
how he pictured this going. He sits there, gaping, trying to think of something to say, but comes up
still with nothing. His dad continues working. Eventually, Jin gets up, grabs his backpack, closes
the door back around, and goes to his room.

Nobody calls him for dinner. He doesn’t realize until almost nine that they’ve eaten without him.
He goes downstairs, tries to ask, and is not really acknowledged. So he pulls leftovers from the
fridge and eats them cold. Then he goes back to his room.

He thinks maybe they’re just taking space, maybe they’re so mad that they can’t look at him or
they’ll do something they regret, so he tries to give them some time. But the whole weekend he
spends in his room and nobody lets him know when there’s food or wakes him up or asks him to
do anything. He sits there, wondering if he even exists, texting Namjoon and Dahyun and Sana, not
doing homework, watching anime on his computer and taking naps and not really leaving his room
except to go to the bathroom and dig around for snacks or leftovers. On Monday, he’s not woken
up for school and he misses his bus and wakes up to missed calls from Namjoon.

Jin has a weird week where he doesn’t really want to be touched, doesn’t want to hang out with
Namjoon after school, doesn’t have a lot to say at lunch. When he goes home, he tries to make it
clear that he’s there, just in case, but nobody even looks at him until it makes him feel so weird that
he starts eating dinner at midnight after they’re all in bed. He tries, though, to be available, for
when they’re ready. He tries to be home. He tries to get himself out of bed for school and do his
homework like usual and live his schedule like he always does.

But, after almost a week, he realizes that this isn’t about anger. This isn’t about waiting until the air
clears, or figuring out thoughts. It’s not about any feelings at all. This is about the fact that they’ve
finally decided not to give a shit about Jin anymore.
He should be relieved. He should feel like the weight of their scrutiny has been lifted. But he
doesn’t. He feels fucking bad.

It took so little for them to decide he was a lost cause. So little, and he’s not even worth the effort
for them to kick him out or send him off somewhere. If he’s going to leave, it’ll be his choice, and
then they can’t feel guilty. He’s still got a bed. He’s still got clothes and a computer and a house
key. There’s still food for him to microwave at night. But his mom and his dad and Suhyeon are a
family and Jin is not a part of that anymore.

His mom might be even worse than his dad. At one point, she gave him a little bit of hope, that
maybe she’d be there for him, but she’s not. She won’t look at him. Maybe she feels guilty about
what she’s doing. Jin doesn’t care.

Jin realizes maybe Suhyeon isn’t evil by how uncomfortable he seems with this whole thing. But
still, he’s the favorite, and he’s treated well, and he’s incredibly impressionable. He’s beholden to
the parents and after a few days he ignores Jin, too.

One day, Jin almost goes downstairs and yells at them until they look at him. He feels desperate.
He wants to be acknowledged. He’s tired because he’s been staying up late to eat dinner and take
showers because leaving his room and facing these people who look right through him is
absolutely mortifying. He wants to make them do something. He needs some closure, or
something. But he realizes that going downstairs and getting hysterical would just give them the
satisfaction of having broken him down, so he doesn’t do it. He packs a change of clothes for
tomorrow and rides his bike to Namjoon’s house.

Winter break hurtles in after a wreckage of a finals week and Jin is terrified to spend two weeks at
home. He’s terrified of Christmas. His grandparents and aunt and uncle and three cousins are
coming into town and he has no idea how his parents will treat him. Maybe they’ll ignore him, but
maybe they won’t. They’ve always been sweeter to him when other people are watching, and Jin
doesn’t know how he’d hold up if suddenly, in front of an audience, his mom and dad started
including him in conversation again and acting like things are okay. He really doesn’t think he can
do it.

He also doesn’t want to impose on Namjoon for the holidays. His family is small, but tight-knit,
and Jin would be as much an outsider among them as he is among his own. Besides, Namjoon and
his mom have done all they can. Jin’s spent a few nights there, but he can’t ask for any more than
that. In the end, Jin’s still got a place to sleep and put his things, and that gets easier to bear as he
starts spending more and more time out of the house. Still, he’s terrified of Christmas.

Then Namjoon, on the last day before break, like it isn’t even a big deal, says, “Do you want to
come to my grandma’s for Christmas?”

“Really?” asks Jin.

“Are you actually surprised? I mostly asked just to like, make sure you wanted to. I’ve told you
she’s great, right?”

“Yeah, a lot. I really want to meet her.”

“Perfect. I think we’re leaving on the 23rd? And coming back the 28th. My mom can get you train
tickets.”
 “Am I actually invited?”

“Obviously. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Christmas just seems like a big deal. It seems like a big deal to spend it with you.”

“In a good way?”

“Yeah. In the best way.”

Chapter End Notes

i wrote so fast so i wouldn't get killed for the cliffhanger but then it all went to shit
 Chapter 9

Namjoon wakes up to early bustle from the grown-ups, his mom and aunt, talking lowly and
clanging quietly in the kitchen. He’s really uncomfortable on the little couch, but he’s not done
sleeping yet, so he flops the other way and tries to tuck the blanket back around himself. It tangles
between his legs and lets a gust of freezing air lick up his leg. He cringes, flops again, back the
other way, but curled up differently this time. He changes the angle of his head so he’s facefirst on
the arm of the couch. He can’t breathe, so he turns back. He unpins his arm from his side. He can’t
find a comfortable neck angle like this, so he flops again. It’s hopeless, and the sound from the
kitchen now includes sizzling and a smell, and he’s absolutely awake, though he’d like not to be.
He looks across at Jin on the the other couch. He’s already awake, laying peacefully on his side,
blankets tucked around him neatly, somehow, and scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” says Namjoon.

Jin looks up from his phone, smiles. “Good morning.”

“How long have you been up?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s almost breakfast.”

“Mhmm,” says Namjoon, flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling for a second before
sitting up. It feels so early. He doesn’t feel like he’s slept enough. But there’s no hope for it now,
so he stretches tall, and his back cracks and he winces, and then he gets up and goes to find his bag.

He gets his toothbrush and some clothes and goes to the bathroom, but when he jiggles the handle
it’s locked. One of his cousins must be in there. He goes back to the couch and sits down to wait,
toothbrush in hand.

His cousin comes out a few minutes later. It’s the younger one, Minji. She’s got her hair in a high,
tight ponytail and she looks sleepy. She’s nice, Namjoon likes her, but he doesn’t know her very
well. She’s getting really into volleyball this year. They bump shoulders in the narrow hallway and
she mumbles an apology. He brushes his teeth and by the time he’s done, his other cousin Eunjin
is waiting for the bathroom after him. He shoulders past her, apologizes, and goes back out to sit
with Jin on the couch.

Namjoon’s uncle comes out of the bedroom and sits down on one of the loveseats.

“Morning,” he says.

“Good morning,” says Jin, friendly.

“You know, I didn’t sleep a wink in that bed,” says Namjoon’s uncle. “How’d you two do out
here?”

Namjoon groans. “The couches are so small,” he says. He and Jin are both too tall to stretch out all
the way, and he spent the night feeling cramped and constricted. His uncle nods in understanding;
he’s as tall and lean as Namjoon’s growing up to be. “But yeah, it was okay.”

“I actually slept really well,” says Jin, rifling in his bag for clothes and toiletries.

“Makes one of us,” says Namjoon’s uncle, then he gets up and heads to the kitchen. “Hey ladies,
how’s it going?” he calls.
When Eunjin comes out of the bathroom, Jin takes a turn, and then Namjoon’s mom, then his
uncle, then his aunt, and finally his grandma. It’s a long process, and by the time everyone’s done,
scattered breakfasts have already been eaten and it’s almost eleven. Granted, if he were at home
and it were almost eleven, Namjoon would still be sleeping. But on grandma-time, it’s practically
evening, and there are things to do. They’re decorating the tree today, and making cookies.
Namjoon doesn’t really care about that stuff, but they do it every year.

Maybe it’s because he’s as tall as the tree now, but decorating doesn’t seem as mystical as it did
when he was smaller. It’s probably just because there are too many people in his grandma’s house
and Namjoon didn’t sleep well. He’s a little prickly. But Jin’s really enjoying himself; he and
Namjoon’s cousins are laughing together and seem like they’re having a good time. Even though
they’re a little old to be doing this, they’re all very involved and not taking it very seriously.

Jin’s really smiley, and he keeps laughing at things Eunjin says. She’s older than they are; she’s
already in college, and Namjoon’s always kind of looked up to her. From the way Jin’s hanging
onto her every word, Namjoon’s realizing that Eunjin is just a really cool person. She’s funny and
quick. It’s nice, his family is nice. Even though he can’t even stretch out without hitting someone
in the face, Namjoon is glad to be here with them.

It’s so nice that Jin is here, too. Namjoon was worried about bringing him. Of course, even if Jin
wasn’t fitting in perfectly and getting along with everyone like he’s known them his whole life,
Namjoon would be glad to have him. He was just worried, since Jin’s been so upset for the past
few weeks, so tired and stretched so thin and working so hard to maintain this image that he’s
doing fine, because that’s the only way he knows how to deal with it. He’s been trying really hard,
and Namjoon would be glad to have him even if he just wanted to sleep the whole time or if he
didn’t want to talk to anybody. But the opposite is happening. They’ve been here for under a day
and already Jin’s everybody’s charming best friend.

That’s not surprising to Namjoon, who finds Jin very charming in general. He is a little surprised at
how sociable he’s being, though. Obviously, Jin relaxes a lot around their friends, but there might
just be something about being at school that puts him on edge. At Namjoon’s house, when it’s just
them, Jin’s a really different person than he is anywhere else. But right now Jin is being that
person. That person who Namjoon didn’t know existed when they met almost a year ago. The
warm person who’s sitting on the floor cross-legged, inspecting a glittery ornament with Minji,
smiling with her and looking completely at ease, that’s the person Namjoon knows. He’s even
wearing his glasses, which Namjoon has only seen him do a few times. They’re not very
fashionable, and he doesn’t like being seen in them, but he never put his contacts in this morning
and he seems totally comfortable. He’s wearing a roomy sweater and his hair is kind of messy; he’s
talking to Minji like he trust her, and Namjoon is just really proud.

He plops down next to Jin on the floor, puts a hand on his leg and kind of leans in. Not enough to
interrupt the conversation they’re having, just enough to feel his warmth a little, be a little close.

“Hey,” says Jin, leaning into Namjoon and wrapping his arm around his back.

“Hi,” says Namjoon.

“Blegh,” says Minji.

“Go away,” says Namjoon, smiling.

Minji sighs. “Fine, fine,” she says. “I’ll go away. You’re rude, Joonie.”

She gets up to go to the kitchen, where Eunjin and their mom are talking to their grandma about
something. Jin laughs and says, “Joonie.”

Namjoon groans. “It’s like I’m still a baby,” he says. “They’ve all called me that since I was a
toddler. You don’t see me calling Minji Mimi but I was actually around when she was small
enough to get called that. I don’t know why Joonie stuck.”

“I hear your mom say it sometimes. It’s cute.”

“It’s not.”

“It is too. It’s cute, Joonie.”

Namjoon tries to sound disgruntled, but can’t be convincing. Really it sounds nice coming out of
Jin’s mouth; anything does. Jin laughs and scratches at Namjoon’s back for a minute before he
says, “Can we go on a walk?”

Namjoon would love to get out of the house for a minute, and he’d love to get Jin alone as well.
Not that he has a problem sharing Jin’s attention, he just really likes him right now. This stripped-
down, comfortable Jin is his favorite. He’s so unburdened, bright and happy and caring. Namjoon
just wants to spend time with him. So he nods against Jin’s neck and they get up and go to dig for
their coats and boots.

“You two going out?” asks Namjoon’s mom, coming into the living room as they start to pull their
shoes on.

“Yeah, I think we’re gonna take a walk,” says Namjoon.

“Okay, well, hurry back,” she says. “We’re starting dinner soon. Do you both have your phones?”

“Yep,” says Jin.

“Great. We’ll see you later.”

“Bye, love you,” says Namjoon, and Jin echoes it, and they head outside.

It’s bitter cold and kind of gross out. The sky is grey, and it snowed a few days ago but didn’t really
stick, so there’s grey slush everywhere and the roads are icy and near-abandoned. The
neighborhood, though, is festive. Lots of the houses have Christmas lights up, a few have little
nativity scenes, and one went fully overboard with a huge inflated snow globe filling up most of
the front yard and a neon Santa sleigh on the roof.

“How did they get that up there?” asks Jin. “I don’t get it.”

A few houses down, there’s a huge tree in a front yard that’s lit all the way to the top, and
Namjoon stops to look at it for a minute. The lights are pretty, but the really impressive thing, he
thinks, is the work that must have gone into putting them up. Somebody had to climb that tree
higher than to the top of the house, and in weather like this, it hardly seems worth it. But it’s pretty,
so it must be worth it. While Namjoon’s standing there thinking about it, Jin finds his hand and
tangles their fingers. But it gets too cold so quickly in the open air, so Namjoon shoves their tangle
into his coat pocket, and they walk along that way. They don’t let go, even when they pass another
couple on a similar walk through the neighborhood. The lady smiles at them as she passes, and Jin,
pink-cheeked in the cold, grins back at her.

They walk until the edge of the neighborhood, where they hit a main street and a bus stop and
decide they should turn back. They’re not ready to leave, though, so they sit on the bus bench for a
few minutes first. The cold of the metal bench seeps through their pants, and they’re shivering
already from sitting still, but they wait absolutely as long as they can before leaving. Jin takes
Namjoon’s face in his hands and kisses him. It’s too cold for a second, and then they defrost and go
soft against each other, and pulling away from Jin’s hot breath is hard.

They get back and the warmth of the house is so welcome. Jin’s all pink and his shoes are soaked
through just a little, and he looks so relieved to get damp socks off and wrap up in a blanket for a
minute. Namjoon joins him, but it’s short-lived before Namjoon’s uncle comes in from the bustling
kitchen and says, “Hey boys, wanna set the table?”

“No, we’re cold,” says Jin.

“Hm, well, whose choice was that? Eunjin and Minji helped cook, so you have to do something.
Come on, up. Set the table.”

Jin groans like this is his own uncle who’s been telling him to set the table for all his seventeen
years, and Namjoon’s uncle laughs like this is his own nephew, and Namjoon spends a second
feeling really confused, but then Jin’s pulling him up.

Dinner is good. Namjoon’s not used to asking for things to be passed, he usually just grabs what he
wants over the little table where he and his mom eat dinner, but Jin is a natural at it. His manners
are so good. Namjoon doesn’t even remember to put his napkin in his lap until he sees Jin do it.
Jin’s a better member of this family than Namjoon is.

Namjoon’s aunt makes some comment thanking Namjoon for bringing another boy over,
something about how this family doesn’t have enough men, and Namjoon’s mom and Grandma
both get a little stiff. Namjoon does, too. That’s a weird thing to say. If she wants to be weird and
supportive she could say something less upsetting. Jin just thanks her graciously.

After dinner, Minji wants to show Jin something on her laptop in the other room, and Namjoon
curls up on the couch and scrolls through his phone for a while. Eventually, a weight settles next to
him and he looks up to see his grandma. He smiles up at her and puts his phone away. Namjoon’s
experienced this: if you look at your phone while she’s talking, she’ll stop mid-sentence and
consider the conversation over. It’s not rude, she just doesn’t want to waste her breath. She doesn’t
speak when she’s not being listened to.

“Hello,” she says. “How was dinner?”

“Oh, really good,” says Namjoon. “Thank you.”

“Thank your mother and your cousins for that. I took a nap while they made it.” She laughs. “It
was good. It’s wonderful to have you all here.”

Namjoon nods. “It’s good to be here.”

“I’m glad you brought Jin,” she says. “Your mom told me a lot about him, but I’m very impressed
with him.”

Namjoon laughs nervously. “Thank you. What did she say?”

“Well, that he’s having a hard time with his family and she wanted to invite him here. That he’s
charming and kind, and your first boyfriend, but that you two seem very mature together. You
know we talk on the phone a lot, you know we talk about you. She’s been telling me since before
you visited this summer that you two were very happy together.”
“Oh, we weren’t dating yet when we visited last time,” he says.

“I know. But you were happy together. I saw the way you were messaging with him.”

“I guess so, yeah. I liked him then. I really missed him when we were here.”

Namjoon’s grandma laughs. “I know,” she says. “Do you know who he reminds me of?”

“Who?”

“Your uncle Seungmin.”

“Gross,” says Namjoon.

“No, no, be nice. They don’t look alike. It’s just that, I know you never met Seungmin. But he had
a gentle soul. He was a caring person.”

Namjoon doesn’t know what to say to that. His grandma goes on, in her low-toned voice that’s
never loud but always carries. “I don’t know what it is exactly,” she says, like she’s trying to figure
it out. “His heart is good. I want you to know, if he’s anything like Seungmin, he’s a good choice,
and you should hold onto him.” When Namjoon looks up, there are tears in her eyes, and her voice
has gone just a little creaky, but it’s been a long time and she doesn’t really cry, she just remembers.

“I want to hold onto him,” says Namjoon. “I think I really love him.”

“I think you do, too,” she says, back in an instant to the strong and straight-backed woman
Namjoon is used to. “So be careful with him. And bring him back soon.” Then she pats his leg and
gets up.

Earlier, Namjoon and Jin were so tired that they could hardly get ready for bed, but now that
they’re all wrapped up, of course they’re fully alert. On their separate too-small couches across the
living room from each other, they quietly talk until they can’t stay up anymore. The first night,
they’d talked about their friends and their day and this book that Namjoon read and then got Jin
into. But tonight, it’s quiet for a long time before anybody says anything. When they do talk, it’s
that kind of odd suspended conversation that can only happen in the dark, when you’re half-asleep
already and can’t see the other person’s face.

“I really like your family,” Jin says, quietly, in a voice that sounds disused.

“They’re okay,” says Namjoon. He’s getting really tired of his aunt and uncle; it’s not just the
couch that makes him feel cramped and constricted. It’s this tiny house with all these people.
They’re great, but Namjoon’s used to having personal space.

“They’re really great,” says Jin. “I get why you and your mom look up to your grandma so much.”

“She told me she loved you today,” says Namjoon. “Said you remind her of my dead uncle.”

“That’s morbid,” says Jin, and laughs airily.

“I thought so, too, and weird, but she kind of like. I don’t know. She idealizes him. She talks about
him like he was a perfect person.”

“When did he die?”

“Before I was born. He was a teenager, I think.”

“Once, your mom told me that your grandma lost a husband and a child on the same day.”

“Yeah, they were in a car accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I never knew them,” says Namjoon. “It just makes holidays kind of weird. Like, you know what
my aunt said earlier about how there aren’t enough men in the family?”

“Mhmm.”

“That’s cause they’re all dead.”

“Doesn’t she know that?” asks Jin, appalled.

“Yeah,” says Namjoon. “But she didn’t know them either. She and my uncle got married after. She
knew my dad, though. I feel like she should take it more seriously.”

“On Christmas especially,” agrees Jin. “What happened to your dad?”

“He was in for surgery on his back and he never woke up from the anesthesia.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I don’t remember him either. I couldn’t talk yet.”

“Why didn’t he wake up?”

“I think they messed up his spinal cord or something. I don’t really know. My mom doesn’t talk
about it that much.”

There’s a pause. Then Jin says, “I love her so much.”

“Who, my mom?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s cool.”

“She’s really important.”

“Mhmm.”

“My mom doesn’t think about me when I’m not around. She’s never really been there for me when
I need her.”

“She sucks.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m not complaining. I’m just thinking about it. My mom wouldn’t get
hurt for me. Or even like, inconvenienced. She never has. But then your mom. Your mom would
do anything for you, I think. Or even for me.”

“I think she would.”

“I really feel like she would. And when I talk to her, it’s like she’s been thinking about me. She
always seems so worried.”

“She’s super worried about you, yeah.”

“I wish she wasn’t. I’m okay. But it’s really weird to feel like somebody’s been thinking about me.
And really weird that I feel like she’d never let anything bad happen to me, you know? I’ve never
felt like that before.”

Namjoon’s chest suddenly hurts a lot, hearing Jin say that. That this is the first time in his whole
life that he’s felt protected. Namjoon hopes he feels protected for so long that it doesn’t feel special
anymore, just normal.

“I think,” says Jin, “I think that’s what a mom is supposed to be. I don’t know if I had a mom
before, really. I think they’re supposed to care a lot, all the time.”

“Yeah, I think so,” says Namjoon.

“I want to be like that to somebody someday,” says Jin.

“Like a mom?”

“Mhmm.”

“Cool,” says Namjoon. He just wants to hug Jin so hard that he crushes him. “Hey, do you want to
move to the ground?” he says.

“We’re not supposed to, your aunt said, right?”

“I don’t really care what my aunt said.”

So, they move their pillows to the floor and lay one blanket down on the carpet, and they snuggle
up under the other. Namjoon pulls Jin in as tight as he can and just hugs him for a minute, then
Jin’s hot breath against his neck turns to small kisses and then he’s sucking a hickey under the
collar of Namjoon’s shirt. Namjoon rubs Jin’s back, and they tangle their legs together. Eventually
they find each other’s mouths and kiss slowly, softly, not like they’re trying to prove something,
just like they’re sleepy and trying to be as close as they can. Namjoon buries his face in Jin’s neck
and Jin reaches under Namjoon’s shirt to trace light lines into his belly.

They don’t say anything else, they just fall asleep close, and for the first time, they’re not hiding
from anything or running away from anything, they’re just sleeping together because they can.
Maybe they’re not strictly allowed to, they were definitely told to stay on the couches, but that
doesn’t mean they’re going to be in trouble if they’re caught like this. Tomorrow’s Christmas, and
they’re together, and things are really good right now. Jin’s so warm and the way they fit together
is so comfortable. Namjoon wants to stay like this. He thinks about saying something really sappy,
but stays quiet and falls asleep instead.

Namjoon’s mom shakes them awake.

“Guys!” she says. “Come on. You’re taking up the whole living room.”

Namjoon peels his eyes open and groans. “Sorry,” he says. Next to him, Jin whines.

“You gotta get all this stuff out of the way before everybody wakes up and crams in here for
presents. Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“Merry Christmas,” Namjoon mumbles.

Jin’s attempt is even less intelligible as he sits up, puffy-faced and eyes still mostly shut. He makes
a pitiful sound and leans on Namjoon. “But we just went to sleep?” he says.

Namjoon pets his hair. His mom says, “It’s not that early. Get up, clean your stuff up. Also,
weren’t you supposed to stay on the couches?”

“They’re too small,” says Namjoon. “And it sucks.”

She clicks her tongue. “I know you wanna hug your boyfriend, but there are reasons we set rules,
okay? Come on, get up and come help me with breakfast. I want to have something ready when
everybody else starts waking up.”

Jin whine-sobs and gropes for his glasses on the coffee table. Namjoon feels that way, too, and
when he gets up and loses the trapped warmth of the blanket, he’s grieved of it.

Still, in the kitchen a few minutes later, squinting and blinking under the unwelcome light that
floods them when Namjoon’s mom flips the switch, at least Jin can help with the fun stuff.
Namjoon has to grab ingredients and set out plates, but Jin gets to actually mix the pancake batter
and measure it onto the pan. Namjoon’s mom shows him a trick for flipping them and Jin picks it
up right away, so well that she says she’ll be right back and goes to the bathroom to get ready
before everybody starts fighting over it.

Just as Namjoon’s mom predicted, people start waking up right away. Everyone’s so gracious to
Jin for feeding them, and he seems so proud and comfortable. First it’s Minji and then it’s
Namjoon’s grandma, then his uncle and his aunt and finally Eunjin. She’s got the right of it,
sleeping until everybody else is almost done eating. Walking uncertainly into the room with her
hair messy and her pajamas still on, she’s greeted warmly, and returns it with a disinterested groan.
Namjoon laughs and she shoots him a glare, but it’s joking. They get each other.

Jin is wide awake at this point, glowing with pride over feeding everyone. He keeps making sure
everybody’s eaten enough. It’s really cute. People keep offering to help, but this is what he wants
to be doing.

After they eat, it’s time for presents. Namjoon, Minji, and Eunjin may be getting a little old for
some of the traditions they still have to uphold as the younger generation, but they don’t have to
pretend to be excited for the part where they get presents. The three of them sit down at strategic
places around the tree and Jin hovers awkwardly for a minute. Then Namjoon’s mom nudges him
toward the others. He shoots her a confused look, and she nods, and he goes to sit down next to
Namjoon.

They take turns opening things. Nothing is all that interesting; now that they’re all teenagers, they
get mostly gift cards and cash and toiletries. It’s funny to see Eunjin pretend to be excited when she
opens a box that’s got a bunch of socks in it. Namjoon laughs until he gets the same thing. But it’s
okay, because he also gets two separate gift cards to bookstores and a pretty significant wad of
cash.

Jin seems really confused when he sees that there are things for him. More confused when he gets
the same sorts of things in the same quantities as everybody else. Socks, gift cards, a sweater. He’s
very gracious but also very quiet. When it’s all over, he neatly puts everything in one of the boxes,
tucks it back under the tree, gets up quietly and goes outside.
Namjoon’s confused for a minute. Everybody’s looking at him. He gets up and follows Jin.

There’s a tire swing hanging from the big tree in the front yard. Jin’s sitting on it, swaying back
and forth a little, looking at his knees as he digs his heels in the frosty ground and pushes himself
around.

Jin doesn’t look up at Namjoon until he stops in front of the swing, ground making crunchy sounds
under his boots. When he does, he cranes his face up, and it’s clear he’s crying even as he smiles
sheepishly. He wipes at his face with the heel of a hand and says, “Sorry.”

“Can I sit?” asks Namjoon.

Jin scoots over. Namjoon clambers awkwardly onto the swing. Jin leans on him, sniffling a little.

It’s quiet for a minute. Namjoon isn’t sure what’s happening, but he doesn’t want to pry, so he just
lets it sit until Jin breaks the calm.

“I’m sorry,” says Jin again. “I’m not really upset, or anything.”

Namjoon’s still confused, so he doesn’t say anything, just rubs Jin’s back.

“I never realized this is how people treat each other,” Jin sniffles. “Why do you care about me so
much?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t understand why suddenly I deserve this. And why I never did before.”

“You always did,” says Namjoon. “You,” he doesn’t even know where to start, and he’s sloppy
with words anyway. “You deserve a lot more than just this.”

Jin gets kind of exasperated when he says, “Then why have I never had anything like this? I don’t
even know these people and they’re treating me better than anybody ever has in my whole life.
And it sucks. I hate it.”

“Do you need to go home or something?”

“No,” says Jin, angry. “I want to stay here forever. But I have to go back to my miserable fucking
house and it’s gonna be even worse now because I know what I’m missing.”

Namjoon wraps his arm tighter around Jin’s waist, leans into him a little deeper.

“Why do you like me?” asks Jin, seriously. “What do I even do that’s worth liking?”

Namjoon rubs Jin’s thigh with his free hand. “It’s not really what you do,” he says. “It’s more like
how you are.”

“Okay, so, uptight, ignorant, boring.”

“Quit,” says Namjoon, pulling back so they can look each other in the face but not letting go of
Jin’s waist. “You’re not any of that.” He doesn’t really know how to describe what he likes about
Jin because it’s just Jin in general that he likes. It’s not like he’s ever really sat back and thought
about it scientifically. Jin isn’t a bunch of qualities that Namjoon has judged individually and
decided are worthy, he’s a whole person. And Namjoon just likes him. He tries, though. “I like you
because,” and he thinks for a second, “you always make sure other people are okay, even when it
doesn’t really matter, and even when you don’t really like them. Also, you’re really graceful, and
everyone likes you. And you don’t say anything unless you know what you’re talking about.”

“Thank you,” says Jin, quietly, a little embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon says. “This seems really frustrating. I didn’t mean to take you here and
make you feel shittier.”

“Joonie,” he says, like he’s said that nickname a million times. “Don’t feel bad. I really love your
family. I love being here.” Then he takes a breath like he’s saying something hard. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” says Namjoon easily.

“No, I mean, I think I’m actually in love with you.”

“I know. I’m in love with you, too.”

“Really?” says Jin. “Was that what you always meant?”

“Uh, yeah?” says Namjoon. “What did you mean?”

“Well,” says Jin. “I mean, I’ve loved you practically since we met.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“But I just realized I was in love with you yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“Well, I thought I was in love with you before. Hold on, don’t be upset. I’m not explaining this
well. I thought I was in love with you. But then yesterday when we were walking around and
sitting at the bus stop, I realized. I don’t love you like I love other people. It’s different. I’ve never
felt like this about somebody before. And I think I get it, and I think it’s that I’m in love with you.”

“So you thought you were in love with me, and then it turned out you were in love with me?”

“No, I thought I was in love with you, but I just loved you. But now I’m in love with you.”

“Okay. Well, I’ve been in love with you since this summer.”

“I didn’t even know I wasn’t in love with you. I didn’t even know it was supposed to feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… like everything is probably going to be fine. Like you’re worth whatever I have to go
through, and like nothing else is that important if we’re together.”

“I feel like that, too,” says Namjoon.

“If I had to sneak around forever to be with you I would do it.”

“So would I,” says Namjoon.

“But I’m tired of doing that.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Okay. So when we go back let’s not worry about it.”

“If you want.”

“Yeah. I love you, and I feel good about that.”

“Okay, good. Me, too.”

Jin strokes Namjoon’s arm. He leans in and gives him a quick kiss, sadness all but forgotten.
“Should we go back in?”

“If you want. Or we could take another walk.”

“Actually,” Jin says softly. “I’d love to take a walk, but your grandma asked me earlier if I wanted
to help make dinner. And we have to start pretty soon, I think.”

“Oh, that’s exciting. Are you excited?”

“Yes, very. I’m going to be the best assistant chef in the world. So I think we should stay at the
house. But I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’m in love with you.”

Jin laughs lightly, and a tear falls down his cheek but it’s not because he’s sad. He wipes it away
quickly and pulls Namjoon in for a tight hug. Then they go inside with their hands held tight.

On the day after Christmas, Namjoon’s uncle finds him alone and tells him to keep Jin around. On
the day after that, his aunt does the same thing. And on the last morning, right before they leave,
Eunjin tells him that if he doesn’t bring Jin back next year she’ll disown him.

“So, I think it went over pretty well,” Namjoon says on the train, recounting these surreptitious
conversations in as much detail as he can remember.

“They loved me,” Jin says, glowing. “I was a hit.”

“You were,” agrees Namjoon.

As they get closer to home, Jin starts getting antsy. He’s got to leave the bubble he’s been in for
the last few days and face reality again. His jaw gets a little tight and Namjoon sees him clench and
unclench a fist.

Namjoon’s mom catches on and says, “So Jin, you’re staying the night at ours tonight?”

“Oh, sure, if I’m invited,” he says, relief flooding his voice.

“Certainly. I was thinking takeout.”

“Okay, yes, I’m sold,” Jin grins. He rubs his thumb on Namjoon’s leg.

Jin has to go back sometime, and knowing that is torture. But right now he doesn’t, and right now
it’s okay. And right now, all they really need to know is that they have each other. Because that
seems like the most important thing, and the thing they’re fighting for anyway. It’s enough,
Namjoon thinks, petting Jin’s head while he dozes on Namjoon’s shoulder. Having each other is
absolutely enough.
 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It’s the first time in weeks that Jin’s even showed up for student council. He really should be
kicked out, but he’s been so diligent up until now, and since he graduates in a couple months,
nobody seems to care that much. He does get some looks, including an especially salty one from
the vice principal, who runs the meetings and is generally a short-tempered and rude person. It
doesn’t help Jin want to be there.

Of course, nothing important is talked about. It’s March, so prom is coming up really soon, and the
meeting is dominated with plans about it. It’s so frustrating. There are so many bigger issues in this
school than what color scheme the decorations will be. This is not a wedding, this matters to no
one, and if Jin could care less, he absolutely would. The way everybody slobbers over it makes Jin
fantasize about just walking out of the meeting. There’s no reason for him to be here anymore. The
people whose opinions he cares about are in the art room, not here.

Afterwards, Jisoo, of course, has to mention it. Jisoo just is a hall monitor; he looks for infractions
even when he’s sleeping. He really should have given up on Jin by now, but for some reason he
still hangs on to the time when they made sense as friends. It sucks, it must suck for Jisoo, because
they used to have a lot in common. But things change, and Jin is done being that person, and Jisoo
would be smarter if he just let go.

Still, Jisoo is nothing if not perseverant. “Hey, Seokjin,” he says, catching up with Jin as he hurries
to the art building to catch his friends before lunch ends.

“What’s up?” he says, already kind of tired.

“Can we… can we talk for a minute?” says Jisoo, anxiety in his voice.

“Sure,” says Jin, though he’d really rather not. He stops where he is to let Jisoo catch up. “What’s
happening?”

Jisoo makes a noise like this is hard for him. And it probably is; Jin doesn’t remember a time when
Jisoo willingly had an emotion other than righteousness. “I’m worried about you, dude,” he says
stiffly.

Jin inhales sharply and says, “Oh, I’m good.” But, very suddenly, he’s not. Panic grips him. He
thought he was hiding it all pretty well. He really, really doesn’t want to talk about it with Jisoo,
and he certainly doesn’t need Jisoo’s worry. Jin’s throat feels tight, his heart feels like it’s beating
too hard. How did he even find out? Maybe Jin’s dad said something to Jisoo’s dad at work. That
doesn’t sound right, but it’s possible. What does Jin know? He hopes Jisoo hasn’t told anybody
else. He takes a breath and focuses hard on not looking like he’s dying.

“Are you?” asks Jisoo.

“Yeah, totally. Whatever you heard, it’s, it’s probably not true,” says Jin quickly.

“I didn’t hear anything,” says Jisoo. “It’s just what I’ve seen.”

Jin tries to breathe steadily. He knows he’s looking a little off. It’s weird not to have any money for
basic things; his shampoo ran out a week ago and he has to press on his toothpaste tube with his
entire body weight to get any out now. That’s not to mention that his razor’s so old that he keeps
cutting himself and most of his pants have started wearing out. It’s starting to get warmer out but
it’s still too cold to go without a jacket, but the only one he has that’s weather appropriate got a big
rip at the seam by one arm. He tried to sew it back together but it looks crappy now. He hasn’t cut
his hair since November. His contacts dried out over a month ago but he still won’t wear his glasses
in front of people, so he’s been stumbling around half-blind all the time and keeps tripping over
stuff. But, generally, he thinks he looks like he’s doing okay, and he’s too embarrassed about it to
make it anybody else’s problem. Really, he’s fine. He’s good.

Jisoo says, “I just thought you’d be normal again by now.”

“It’s not that simple,” says Jin in a harsh whisper. He feels nauseous, his world is crashing down
around him. If people can tell, then he’s failed. Jisoo is the last person he wants knowing that he’s
been all but disowned. Jisoo is the last person he wants to know.

“It is, Seokjin. You can just stop hanging out with him.”

Jin’s brain breaks. “What?”

“You don’t have to spend time with those people.”

Jin exhales slowly, shakily. “Is this… is this about Namjoon?”

“Of course,” Jisoo snaps. “What else would it be about?”

“Fucking, nothing Jisoo. Namjoon is fine. I’m fine.” Jin’s heart rate isn’t getting any slower, but
the relief is so heavy that he feels physically lighter. It takes a second to adjust. He blinks.

Jisoo says, “He hits people, Seokjin.”

Jin needs a nap. He says, “That was so, so long ago. And I deserved it.”

“You know, you’re the victim here. You don’t have to defend him. He’s turning you into someone
you’re not. It’s hard to watch.”

“No, he’s not,” Jin says, oddly calm in the wake of that unrealized emotional turmoil. He doesn’t
even know how to begin to tell Jisoo how wrong he is. It’s almost funny, but weariness creeps into
his voice when he says, “He’s just around while I turn into someone I am.”

“How can you say that?” says Jisoo, like he’s so sure that he’s right, and it’s frustrating because Jin
can’t even be mad; Jisoo’s defending what he thinks is true. He’s never seen anything else, he has
no way of knowing. Jin remembers being wound that tight. He remembers a time when he didn’t
relax for so long that he started getting nerve pain in his shoulders. Jisoo says, “How can you say
that you’re becoming someone you are when you used to have it together and now you’re doing
god-knows-what with all these scary people?”

Jin’s so tired. He’s just so fucking tired. And Jisoo doesn’t understand one single thing. “Jisoo,” he
says, gently, like to calm him down. “Namjoon and I are dating. We have been since like
September.”

Jisoo visibly stills, stiffens even more. “Oh,” he says, almost chokes. “Oh.”

Jin runs a hand though his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know how people can’t tell. We’re like, always
together.”
Jisoo’s voice is so weak when he says, “I thought you were joining a gang or something.”

There’s too much going on. Jin laughs. He supposes that his friends are kind of like a gang, if
being loud and opinionated qualifies as crime. But, no. “I’m not joining a gang, Jisoo. I’m just
gay.”

Jisoo blinks. He’s looking at Jin but it’s like he doesn’t see him. He says, “Oh.”

“So I’m great,” he says. “I’m sorry you were worried about me.”

Jisoo seems… uncomfortable. Not angry or hateful. Just uncomfortable. If Jin didn’t know better
he’d think Jisoo was doing that crawling-out-of-his-skin thing that Jin used to do before he could
say things like I’m just gay without needing to throw up and cry. He knows better, but just in case,
he very slowly reaches toward Jisoo so as not to startle him, pats him on the shoulder, and says,
“It’s okay.”

Jisoo swallows hard. “I’m gonna go,” he says.

“Sure,” says Jin, gently. “Talk to you later.”

He gets to the art room just as Namjoon’s slinging his bag over his shoulder to go.

“Oh, hey,” says Namjoon. “Didn’t think I’d see you.”

Jin comes in for a quick hug, breathing deep against Namjoon’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he says. “Just
had a really weird conversation with Jisoo.”

“Oh yeah?” says Namjoon carefully. “Weird how?”

Jin hums. “He just doesn’t get it at all. He was making shit up about what I’ve been doing with you
all this time. I told him I was gay and he got really weird. I mean, of course he got weird, but he got
really weird.”

“Um, are you okay?”

“Yeah, so good,” says Jin. Namjoon looks at him a little skeptically, but he’s not lying. “Really,
fine. What’s up?”

“Um,” says Namjoon, tugging Jin lightly by the jacket sleeve to guide him for the door. “It just hit
me.”

“What?” says Jin, following Namjoon outside and heading for the building where they both have
their next class.

“We met I think a year ago,” Namjoon says. “I don’t remember. But it was like a year ago. And
you wouldn’t even look at me. And I didn’t even think you had a soul.”

“Thanks,” says Jin jokingly, not really sure where this is going.

“I’m sorry,” chuckles Namjoon. “You were worse than Jisoo, though. So stiff all the time, you
know?”

“I know,” says Jin.

“But now you’re so cool.”

“Oh,” says Jin slyly. “I’m cool now?”

“I mean, that’s not really the right word. Hang on. Let me figure it out.” Namjoon takes a breath
and squints at Jin for a second. Then he says, “Graceful.”

That makes Jin so warm. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, can’t help the light
kiss he drops on Namjoon’s nose even though there are people around. “Why are you saying this?”
he asks quietly.

“Because it just hit me that you’re like, incredible.”

Jin’s face is getting a little hot; he’s still not totally sure why Namjoon’s saying these things, but he
just mutters, “Thank you.”

“Is it stupid for me to say I’m proud of you?”

“A little, but please say it anyway.”

“Okay,” says Namjoon. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you,” says Jin. Then he whispers, “I love you, you know?”

Namjoon makes a noise like he’s thinking about whether he agrees. He settles on yes, says, “Hmm,
I love you too.” Then he reaches down to grab Jin’s hand and tangle their fingers together, this
quiet thing that they do to be close now almost without thinking. “We should go to class,” he
whispers, looking around them to find that the hall’s cleared out almost completely.

“Okay,” Jin agrees. “Am I coming over later?”

“Uhh, actually, we moved our game up to tonight. Mingyu’s got a bunch of church stuff he has to
do this weekend.”

“Oh,” says Jin. “Can I come over anyway?”

“Of course,” says Namjoon. “Always.”

Jin’s never been around for their Dungeons and Dragons game before. He would never admit that
it’s because he finds the whole idea hellaciously dull, but of course it is. You can’t date Namjoon
and not have read at least the first two Wheel of Time books, that’s just not possible, but Jin’s got to
draw a line somewhere. So, so far, he’s avoided the big weekly D&D matches like the plague.

It catches Jin off guard, then, ten minutes into their game, when he finds himself peeking around
the corner into Namjoon’s dining room to see what the fuss is all about. These are not the noises he
imagined he would be hearing. This is not a group of nerds quietly doing math to beat up stupid
monsters, no, Mingyu is yelling, Namjoon is yelling, Nayeon is screeching, Momo is telling
everyone to calm down, and Wonwoo is laughing in a way that seems almost sadistic. And,
knowing the little Jin knows about Wonwoo, it probably is.

“So, I’m dead now?” says Sana meekly when everybody quiets down.

“No, sweetheart, you just need to take a long rest,” says Momo.
“Hang on, I want to heal her,” says Mingyu.

Momo sighs. “Check your sheet, Kim, I think you used your spells.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

Namjoon sees Jin peeking in and says, “Oh, hey.”

“Hi, sorry,” says Jin.

“Wanna play?” asks Namjoon, for probably the nine hundredth time since they started their
campaign three months ago.

“Nope,” says Jin smoothly. “Are you guys hungry?”

Mingyu, Wonwoo, and Momo all groan yes at the same time. Nayeon says, “You don’t have to do
that.”

"It's okay," Jin says, “I want to.”

He goes to find Namjoon’s mom in her office to ask if there’s anything off-limits in the kitchen.
She says no and apologizes for the limited selection; tomorrow’s grocery day. Jin goes back,
throws on an apron and pokes around for something to make.

A few chopped vegetables later, he’s got a tray of cute sandwiches for everybody. They’re not a
lot, but presentation can really fool people. He brings them in and proudly sets them down and
everybody is so grateful, and it makes Jin feel good and whole and right.

“You’re such a mom,” says Momo with a mouthful of sandwich. “I love it.”

“Thank you,” says Jin. “Thanks so much.”

Everyone stays until late, since it’s Friday and the game is immersive. Even Jin gets bored of
reading at a certain point and comes in to half-assedly back up Namjoon’s character. The whole
campaign agrees that it’s flagrant cheating, but nobody makes any move to stop it. Eventually,
though, everybody’s got to go home, and it’s just Jin and Namjoon left.

They sit on the couch together, Jin curled up into Namjoon’s chest, and talk for a while with the
TV on in the background.

“Are you staying tonight?” asks Namjoon.

“Hmm,” says Jin. “Actually, I think I should go home.”

“Oh, okay,” says Namjoon uncertainly.

“Yeah, I think I should go,” says Jin, suddenly feeling a little anxious. It’s not that he wants to go,
or that he doesn’t feel welcome, it’s just that this weird feeling of embarrassment is starting to
creep up on him and he’s getting worried that people will start noticing soon. That conversation
with Jisoo really shook him up; he's been self-conscious all day. Hyperaware of what people think
when they look at him. He’s done a really good job of keeping himself together for the past few
months, he thinks, a really good job not thinking about what he’s going to do when he graduates, a
good job conserving his resources. He’s gotten almost used to staying up until 4am doing laundry,
pilfering things from the house at night like a ghost to keep himself alive. He’s held himself
together really well, but he’s getting to a point where he’s going to start falling apart soon, and he
doesn’t want to admit it to anybody. Least of all Namjoon, who’s proud of him.

It almost makes it worse that he knows if he mentioned any of this stuff to Namjoon or his mom,
he’d have a bottle of shampoo and a new toothbrush in an instant. He doesn’t want to need help. He
wants to be able to make Namjoon proud. And, now that he’s thinking about it, he sort of wants to
be alone with the shame. So, he says, “I think I’ve gotta go, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I need to finish my laundry.”

“Is that all?” asks Namjoon, sensing Jin’s worry.

Jin admits, “No, it’s not.” He doesn’t say anything else, he doesn’t even know how to start.

“Are we okay?” asks Namjoon, voice tight.

Jin cracks a little smile. The thought of not being okay with Namjoon is so far from him. “Of
course we are,” he says softly, and tilts his head up to kiss Namjoon’s jaw, and the side of his
mouth, and his lips. He readjusts himself so he’s on a better level with Namjoon, straddling his
hips and kissing him back into the couch. “We are so good,” he whispers on Namjoon’s ear.

Namjoon’s mom comes in from the kitchen. “Break it up,” she says, good-humored. “Come on, be
civilized in front of your weary mother.”

“Sorry,” says Jin, flopping back next to Namjoon and wiping his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Whatever,” she says. “You staying tonight, Jin?”

“No,” he says. “I think I’m gonna get going, actually.”

“You sure? It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah, I have to deal with some stuff.”

“Okay, honey. Good luck. We’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. Then he presses up from the couch, leans over Namjoon to place one
more reassuring kiss on his mouth and then his cheek, and grabs his ripped coat and his worn-out
shoes.

The bike ride home sucks. He’s humiliated that he’s no longer completely capable of always
pretending that everything is okay, and now he’s also guilty about leaving Namjoon’s warm, bright
house and rejecting their help. Running away from them doesn't make him look any better than
admitting it would.

But he can’t stay either, really. Staying at Namjoon’s is temporary. He’s sure he’d be invited to
stay there indefinitely if the situation were different, but Namjoon's mom sat him down once and
told him why it's not really possible. Since he’s a minor, if he moved into her house, she could be
in legal trouble. Jin told her he thinks his parents would be relieved to have him leave quietly, but
she reminded him that they’re petty and hateful and lawyers. Also, their house doesn’t have space
for another person, unless he were to share a room with Namjoon, but Namjoon’s room is already
small and full. Jin's taken enough help form them, anyway. He'd never impose like that.

They’ve done all they can for him; they’ve done so much. They’ve done, honestly, more than Jin
deserves. Not that he doesn’t realize he deserves better than what his parents give him. But he’s
kind of ungrateful and messy and just because he’s lucked into falling in love with the best person
in the world doesn’t mean he’s earned any love from anyone. He just feels shitty.

And guilty. Why can’t he be capable? He can get up in the morning and do everything on his own
now, he has friends and he’s in love and if he needs advice he has people to call. He’s not ashamed
of himself, he likes himself so much more now than he ever has before. So why can’t he brush his
teeth? He’s so helpless.

He passes a drugstore on his way home, when he crosses a main street between two
neighborhoods. He thinks about going in and stealing a bottle of shampoo. Then he remembers
he’s got a credit card in his wallet.

It probably won’t work. He’s just about certain that it’s been cancelled by now. But it could be
worth a shot. Maybe his dad doesn’t think about Jin enough to have remembered to close the
account. He probably has, but maybe he hasn’t.

Jin’s plan is to try to get something small, and if the card declines, he can apologize and run away
and go back to Namjoon’s mom with his tail between his legs to beg for toiletries. If it doesn’t, he
can keep trying. He makes a mental ranking of what’s most important right now.

He almost has a panic attack when he hands the cashier the card, almost starts crying, he’s sure he
looks insane, but the card is in his name and it’s just a tube of toothpaste.

The card doesn’t decline. It goes through. Jin says, “Really?”

The cashier says, “Really what? Do you need a bag?”

“No,” says Jin. “Thank you so much.”

It used to be that every time he used the card, it sent a text to his dad’s phone. Probably still is. So,
the second time he tries to buy something, it’s even more nerve-wracking. It’s likely that his dad
had forgotten to cancel it, but now Jin’s reminded him. So he hands over the bottle of shampoo and
the toothbrush and the floss with shaking hands.

The card works again, though, and Jin’s sigh of relief must be strange to the cashier, but she
doesn’t say anything. Jin shoves them in his backpack and rides his bike away so quickly.

Every day that week, he tries something else, and the card keeps working. He’s sure there will
come a time when it declines, probably right when he gets confident enough to use it without the
huge worry that attaches to him every time he swipes it, because his dad is just like that. But the
card keeps working, and Jin gets soap and razors and shoelaces and eventually asks Namjoon if,
the next weekend, he wants to go to the mall with him for some new clothes.

“Hell yeah,” says Namjoon when Jin mentions it. “You’re trusting me to suggest clothes for you?”

“Mmhmm,” says Jin. “Of course. Why?”

Namjoon gestures to himself. He’s wearing this awful shirt that Jin remembers him just saying he
found with no other explanation. It’s tie dyed and has the name of some seafood restaurant that he
has absolutely never heard of before. He’s proudly got a plaid flannel over it, as if that matches or
makes sense at all. His tight jeans look good at least, but they’re so ripped and stained that they
probably should have been incinerated months ago. They’re Namjoon’s favorites.

“You look good,” says Jin. And it’s true. He looks like himself. “It’ll be fun. You’re not going to
get me in tie-dye, though.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” says Namjoon.

They walk to the mall after school. It’s a couple of miles, but it’s pretty and brisk out and it’s
always nice to go on a long walk after a day cooped up inside. The days are getting longer again, so
they have a good few hours before Namjoon’s mom wants them to head home. They take their
time. When they get inside, Jin says, “Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty,” and Namjoon nods, and Jin
leads them to the boba shop on the other side of the mall and pays for them both.

“This is so good,” he says, mouth still full of mango slush. “I love this.” Namjoon agrees, slurping
so much up all at once that his cheeks puff out a little, smiling with his eyes.

Jin gets this kind of giddy feeling. It’s good enough to be here with Namjoon, enjoying a nice
afternoon, buying him something for once. But his heart really starts swelling as they get up to go
to one of the department stores. He’s about to go pick out and buy clothes for himself for the first
time in his life, after months of feeling helpless and stuck. He has never really been able to choose
his clothes before. He’s not even sure what he wants to buy. He’s really excited.

At the first place he doesn’t find much that he likes other than a couple pairs of jeans. They’re
tighter than he’s used to, and he’s embarrassed about them, until he steps out of the dressing room
uncertainly and Namjoon just says, “Oh my god.”

“Bad?” says Jin.

“No. Not bad. Buy those,” Namjoon says gravely.

Jin does, and at the next store he tries on some thin, flimsy t-shirts with low necks that will be
comfortable this summer. He steps out of the dressing room in a black one with a pocket on the
front and shrugs. “Does this look like pajamas?” he says. “It feels like pajamas.”

Namjoon visibly swallows. “It doesn’t look like pajamas,” he says. Then he gets up quietly, takes
Jin’s hand and pulls him back into the dressing room. He guides him against the back wall lightly,
giving him the chance to back away, but he doesn’t. Namjoon kisses him against the wall, sweetly,
slowly, but it’s still too much for the mall, and Namjoon whispers, “Sorry.”

Jin kisses back, though, and Namjoon presses one of his hands against the wall and holds Jin’s hip
with the other. Namjoon pulls back, mouths at Jin’s jaw, and says “I can see your whole neck.”
Then he kisses down it to the collar of the shirt like he’s proving it. “You look so good. You
should buy this one.” He rubs under the fabric at Jin’s hipbone and Jin leans in to catch his mouth
again before they pull apart.

Namjoon doesn’t leave when Jin shrugs out of the shirt and back into the short-sleeved blue button
down that he wore here. They walk out of the room together, and the attendant who had been away
when Namjoon had stepped in gives them a look on the way out.

“How’d it go?” she asks flatly.

“Good,” says Jin. “I’m gonna get all three.” She seems relieved not to have to reshelve them.
At the next store, Jin tries on a couple of jackets that he hates. None of them look or feel right until
he goes to the section with the hoodies. He tries one on that Namjoon calls “dope” but that’s very
much not his style. He can’t pull it off; he looks like he’s trying really hard. It’s not until he gets to
the ones that are really plain and basic and fit kind of baggy that Jin finds one that he likes. This
definitely looks like pajamas, but it also looks good, he thinks. He pulls off his shredded old jacket
which he’s worn far past its death and throws the navy blue hoodie on in front of the mirror in the
store. He looks comfortable. He feels comfortable.

He goes back to the rack, though, and picks a different color. White is okay, black doesn’t suit him,
grey is boring, and pink is a lot. But the pink one is actually his favorite. He grabs his size off the
rack and pulls it on. When he looks in the mirror, it’s obvious that this is the one. It makes his skin
and eyes look bright, and makes him kind of soft and pretty in general. He raises eyebrows at
Namjoon and says, “Is this too much?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No, you look really good.” He makes a thoughtful sound and says,
“You look like how I picture you when you’re not around.”

“What’s that mean?” asks Jin, shrugging the pink thing off and putting his awful old grey jacket
back on.

“I don’t know,” says Namjoon. “You don’t look like you’re trying to impress anybody. Just you.”

“So, a slob?” asks Jin, only half-joking. Hoodies are lazy clothes. But he is kind of lazy.

“Oh no, not a slob,” Namjoon says quickly. “You’re really impressive. Sorry, Jin, but you’re like,
extremely good looking. You know that right?”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” says Jin, coming up to the register to pay.
“Hi,” he smiles to the cashier. “Just this.”

“No, I’m not,” says Namjoon, like it’s very important that he convinces him of this. He lets Jin pay
and when they leave the store he continues. “Really. Do you know how good you look? You act
like you don’t.”

Jin shrugs. He’s been thinking about other things lately. He doesn’t hate his reflection as much as
he used to, but he’s got a feeling that has more to do with the fact that he no longer hates everything
he is and stands for. But, people look at him sometimes, and a lot of girls have been talking to him
this year. Seulgi still hasn’t let him rest at the class they have together, acting almost like she’s got
some kind of claim to him, but she doesn’t follow him around like she used to. He just hasn’t had a
lot of time to check himself out lately. He still kind of looks at himself and sees a big squishy-
bellied dweeb in starchy clothes and too-small glasses. Maybe part of why he feels so funny and
awkward in the clothes he’s trying on is that he actually does think he looks good, he actually feels
good about them and it’s foreign. If someone judged him for wearing a polo shirt, he’d agree, it’s
homely, but if somebody judged him in a hoodie that he picked himself and likes, that would
reflect on him personally, wouldn’t it? It’s just hard to put himself out there.

“I look okay,” he says. “I like these clothes.”

Namjoon scoffs and plops down on a bench. “You look so good,” he says, tugging Jin down by the
hand. “I just want to make sure you know that you’re probably the best looking person alive at this
time.”

Jin rolls his eyes but he can’t help but smile a little. Namjoon says, “I’m only saying this because
you have uh, considerable power. You can’t wield it wisely if you don’t know you have it.”
“Stop,” says Jin, but he’s laughing. “You’re not so hard on the eyes yourself,” he says.

“No, no,” says Namjoon, like Jin’s totally missing the point. “It’s different. You’re so pretty that…
sometimes I’m afraid to touch you.”

Jin’s breath catches and he’s sure that if Namjoon ever thought he was pretty, the face he’s making
now negates all that. That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever told him. He wants to cry,
whether it’s true or not. “I love you,” he says. “Don’t be afraid to touch me.”

“Maybe it’s just because I uh,” and Namjoon gets a little bashful even though he’s said it a lot
before, “I love you so much. But I don’t think it is. You’re like. Exceptionally attractive.”

“Must just be you,” says Jin, and then he grabs Namjoon’s hand and pulls him up. Still, on the
walk to the shoe store, hands still held, he stands a little taller and feels a little brighter.

On the way to the shoe store, they pass a couple kids from school. Jin’s so clueless, or maybe just
half-blind, he doesn’t even realize that they’re looking at them because they’re holding hands. It
takes a minute. But then it hits him, that the three kids that he recognizes from the halls but doesn’t
know in any practical way are looking at them in that way, the way Jin always feared he’d be
looked at when he was a little younger and a lot different than he is now. He doesn’t react with
fear, though, like he always thought he would in a situation like this. He doesn’t instantly recoil
from Namjoon’s tightening grip. He reacts with something between anger and indifference. It’s not
their problem, is it? And what are they going to do? Anything? They’re mumbling now, and Jin
can almost hear what they’re saying, and he can’t pretend it’s not fucking upsetting, but he’s still
walking with Namjoon, still holding his hand, and that’s what feels right and good. They go to the
shoe store.

“I think I want some converse or something,” he says.

“They don’t have the real ones here, I think,” says Namjoon, scrutinizing the boxes lined up the
wall in the aisle that has Jin’s size. “I saw some real ones by the movie theatre, should we go
back?”

Jin shrugs. “I looked at the price on one of them,” he says.

“Don’t you have like, unlimited money right now though?” asks Namjoon.

“Yeah, I guess. But I don’t wanna buy stuff I don’t need.”

“You should get the real converse, they’ll last longer. They’re better when you’ve worn them out a
little, anyway.”

Jin chuckles. Namjoon would say that. He’s currently wearing his favorite pair of scarred old army
boots, but the other pair of shoes he favors is a pair of black converse that have faded to medium
grey and hold no shape whatsoever when not tied to his feet. He loves them.

Jin’s feeling risky and good and powerful, and he kind of does have unlimited money right now, so
he decides that maybe the brand name shoes will be better than the knock-offs, so they leave with a
thank you and walk by the same cluster of kids from their school on the way out. Jin still
determinedly grips Namjoon’s hand, even when one of them says something really unsavory a little
louder than Jin’s okay with hearing. He squints his eyes shut for a minute but doesn’t stop fast
walking until Namjoon jerks his hand out of Jin’s and looks like he’s going to go over there.

“Hey, wait,” says Jin. He reaches for Namjoon’s hand again. “Don’t.”
Namjoon’s face is a little pink, which is something, because for someone who’s embarrassed about
a third of the time that he’s conscious, he’s not a big blusher. He’s red though, and maybe it’s with
anger. “I have to,” says Namjoon, deliberately quiet like he’ll yell if he voices his words at all.
“They don’t get to say that.”

“It won’t help,” says Jin. “We’re above it.”

“I don’t,” Namjoon huffs. “I don’t want people to talk like that to you.”

Jin tugs Namjoon’s hand a little and starts trying to lead him away, toward the other shoe store.
“They’re talking like that to you, too, you know,” he says. “It’s not just me.”

“But I can handle it,” he says. “I don’t care. They don’t know what you—“

“No, Joonie,” says Jin, a little firmly, because Namjoon’s not being sensible and he needs someone
to be solid with him. “I can fight my own battles. Don’t do that for me. I don’t want you to.”

Namjoon’s quiet for a minute and lets Jin take him past the rude kids to the other shoe store. It’s
not until they’re there and Jin’s trying to make a pleasant face while thinking about his color
options that Namjoon says anything else. “Sorry,” he says. “I hate it when people are shitty for no
reason.”

“I know,” says Jin softly. He remembers that kind of body language and that set jaw that Namjoon
had back there. It’s what he looked like a year ago right before he punched Jin in the mouth. That
was the beginning of the end, he thinks, but he doesn’t regret it. He needed a smack in the face
back then.

He remembers what he said to Namjoon that made him mad enough to hit him, though he tries not
to. You’re a loser and you’ll never amount to anything. That was the worst thing he could think to
say, because it was, is still, the worst thing anyone had ever said to him. His dad said it to him, a
couple nights before Namjoon and Jin got into their second fight, after he’d been given detention.
They were sitting down in the office with the green carpet. It was in a rare emotional flare from his
dad, and it cut down Jin’s last hope that he could ever really make his parents proud. He’d cried in
front of his dad because he felt so guilty about getting in trouble when all he’d ever done was try to
be good. He’d broken down and said he was sorry, asked what he could do to make it better,
promised he’d never fuck up again, and his dad had snapped. He was so disgusted with Jin—his
softness, his weakness—that he’d yelled. You’re a loser, and you’ll never amount to anything.
What a childish thing for an adult to say. What a bad thing to tell your child.

It still hurts to think about it, because the way it broke his heart and the nights he spent crying were
some of the hardest of his life. Maybe worse than the several months of dead silence he’s living
with now, though that’s torture in its own way. It hurts to think about, too, because he knows that
if his parents loved him, they wouldn’t talk to him like that. It’s hard to look back now and know
that they gave up on him long before he came out to them. A really long time before. He hasn’t
really been a part of his family for so long.

But he’s a part of Namjoon’s, now, in a way. And he’s sorry he ever said something so cold to
someone who he’s come to love so much. He’s sorry that he was so nasty to Namjoon that he
made him set his jaw and go red and feel existential terror at the fact that people can be so, so
awful to each other. He did that to Namjoon, who he loves. He’s so lucky to have this boy in his
life after all that.

He realizes he’s looking down at his hands and not at shoes and not at Namjoon at all. He looks up
at Namjoon, sitting next to him, breathing mindfully on the bench, and he knows that it seems out
of the blue and oddly public, but he picks up Namjoon’s hand and strokes it with his fingers for a
second before lifting it up to his face and kissing his bony wrist. He mouths into the palm of his
hand, “I love you.” Then he leans into his side and lets Namjoon wrap an arm around his back.

A salesperson walks up to them and says, “You guys wanna check anything out?”

“I’m still thinking about colors,” says Jin. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” the guy says. “Just let me know if you wanna try something on.”

“Would it be stupid if I changed in the bathroom?” asks Jin. “Those shirts are actually really
comfortable.”

“Yeah, you should,” says Namjoon. “When you’re done do you want to leave or do you wanna
walk around more?”

“Walk around,” says Jin confidently. It’s only been about an hour; they have plenty more time, and
spending money is fun and Jin still has a few things he could use in his life. Like maybe something
that will make him smell really good, maybe a new wallet because his is falling apart, or a
backpack. Basically everything he owns is falling apart, so he won’t run out of things to buy as long
as they’re at the mall. He’s done with the basics now, though, and sort of wants to go somewhere
fun.

Like, he decides, in his new tight jeans and soft, comfortable grey shirt and warm slouchy pink
hoodie and dark blue converse, the upscale home goods store.

“Sorry,” he says to a clearly disinterested Namjoon. “I know you hate it. But I have to go in here.”

Namjoon tries to care about plates and blenders, it’s clear that he does. Jin tries to be fast. He just
really needs to price check some citrus reamers really quick. And see what some nice pans would
cost. And knife sets. And daydream about having a pretty set of matching cups, plates, placemats,
napkins. He thinks he likes the white ones with the blue floral pattern. He has no idea where he’d
put them if he had them. He has no kitchen, but it’s nice to think about.

He leaves without getting anything, but it still feels really good to have looked. “One day,” he says,
as they aimlessly walk down a little further, “I’m going to have a really nice kitchen, I think.”

“Yeah?” says Namjoon.

“Mhmm. I’m gonna have cast iron pans like your grandma has and I’m gonna make you eggs
before you wake up and bring them to you in bed.”

Namjoon grins. “Cool. We’re gonna live together?”

Jin hums. “One day we will. Right?”

“I guess I haven’t thought about it a lot.”

“No, me neither. But I think we will. I bet by the time you graduate I’ll have my shit together and
we can get a place.”

“Okay,” says Namjoon. “Sounds good.” It seems like there’s more he wants to say, more on his
mind, but a lot of the time he just lets the energy thrum between them instead of trying to put it all
to words. It’s okay; Jin knows how Namjoon feels. He gets Namjoon. They get each other. They
don’t need more words than they have.

They pass a piercing kiosk and stop to look at the jewelry. Namjoon checks out some little silver
hoops that Jin thinks would look good on him. Jin thinks about getting something pink to match his
new hoodie, but doesn’t see anything he likes. He does, though, see a sign that says Free Piercing
With Jewelry Purchase, and he tugs Namjoon’s sleeve.

“Hey,” he whispers. “What if I got my ear pierced right now?”

“Right now?” asks Namjoon. “You already have your ear pierced?”

“Yeah, what if I did it again?”

“You mean the other one?”

Jin shakes his head. “No, the same one.”

“I mean,” says Namjoon, smiling like he’s surprised. “Yeah, you should. Why?”

“Because I can,” says Jin. “Because I want to.” Because he owns his body and his life right now
and it’s profound. He really feels like claiming himself.

“Good, you should,” says Namjoon.

So Jin summons the girl who works at the kiosk and feels very silly and awkward and spontaneous
and kind of giggly. She’s probably not trained well enough, she looks hardly older than him, but
she goes on his word that he’s 18 without asking for ID and at least seems clean.

Just a couple minutes later, brave Jin with a throbbing ear grins as they head toward the mall exit.

“I think this trip was a success,” says Namjoon dopily.

“Huge success,” says Jin, warm and happy in his big sweater.

When they get to walking, they realize time’s gotten away from them just a little, and the sun’s
already starting to go down. It’ll definitely be dark by the time they get to Namjoon’s house, and
they call his mom to apologize and say they’re safe.

They put Namjoon’s phone on speaker and say “Hi mom,” when she answers.

“Hi, boys,” she laughs. “Are you almost home?”

Namjoon groans. “Sorry. We’re just leaving now.”

“It’s a little late,” she says firmly, but kind.

Namjoon starts to apologize, but Jin cuts him off. “Do you know what I got?” he says.

“What did you get?” she says.

“A huge pink hoodie,” says Jin. “And shoes with no holes.”

She laughs. “That sounds really good. I expect to see everything when you get here. Hurry back,
okay?”
“Okay,” says Namjoon, and Jin echoes.

“Be safe. See you soon.”

“See you soon. Bye.”

Jin meets Namjoon in the usual spot after school on a Tuesday in early April. He smiles at
Namjoon and grabs his hand quickly, swinging it between them as they start making their way
toward Namjoon’s house.

“How was your day today?” asks Jin.

Namjoon says, “Good.” Then he goes, “Well, I don’t know. It was okay. I’m not ready for my
math test tomorrow. And I think the sandwich I got in the cafeteria gave me Crohn’s. And I don’t
like that the year is almost over.”

“No,” says Jin. He’s trying really, really hard not to think about the inevitable passage of time. “I
don’t either.”

Namjoon lets it be quiet between them for a second. Their footsteps slap against the sidewalk; a car
drives past too fast and there’s a squirrel near them squawking. Then he says, “Do you know what
you’re going to do yet?”

“I don’t,” says Jin. He doesn’t say anything else, because what else can he? This will all catch up
to him when he graduates; of course it will. He can’t think about it, though. He has no power over
it. And it will kill him. And he’s not ready to die.

“Hey,” says Namjoon. “It’s okay.”

Jin looks up from the sidewalk at Namjoon’s face and doesn’t know how he could just tell that he
was going somewhere bad. He squeezes Jin’s hand and then lets go, wraps his arm around his back
and pulls him in. “It’s definitely going to be okay,” he says.

“I don’t know how you can say that,” says Jin, then he groans. “Sorry for being such a downer all
the time.”

“You’re not a downer. Nothing about this is whining, you know?”

Jin hadn’t thought that there was a difference between whining and really having things to deal
with. But that doesn’t make him feel better about being so negative. Still, the dam’s broken. “I
have no idea what I’m gonna do,” he says. “Maybe I can stay the summer, maybe? But then I don’t
have anything.”

“Honestly?” says Namjoon, pulling Jin off the sidewalk and under a tree, hugging him and
mumbling into the side of his head, “I think you’re gonna find somewhere to go, and once you’re
out of that house you’ll be able to think better.”

Jin knows he’s right. But he doesn’t even have a college to go to. He doesn’t even have a
marketable skill-set other than being a failed nerd. He hasn’t had the energy to think about making
a plan yet, and now that he’s starting to, and the time’s approaching so quickly, it’s not easy. He’s
just realizing how much harder and more confusing everything is than he can bear. When he thinks
about it, his heart beats fast and his mind clouds with too much fear to think through. So he’s
stuck. He’s pretending graduation doesn’t exist. “I think I’m just gonna flunk so I can take senior
year again,” he mumbles, peeling out of Namjoon’s arms so he can rest his face on his shoulder.

“That’s a perfect idea,” says Namjoon. “Your parents definitely won’t kick you out before that
happens.”

“Good point. What would I do without you?”

Namjoon chuckles. “You wouldn’t have even read Lord of the Rings without me.”

Jin scoffs back, standing up straight and grabbing Namjoon’s hand to start walking again. “Where
would I be without Lord of the Rings? Who would I be without Gandalf? Without Elrond?”

“Positive male role models are important.”

“Where would I be without Saruman?”

“Did you read those books?”

“Yeah,” says Jin, and he’s not lying. He toiled over those books. He didn’t even like them. “I
thought Saruman was saucy.”

Namjoon really laughs at that. It’s fond. Jin likes that Namjoon thinks he’s being funny, wants to
keep making him laugh, so he says more. “Just so you know, I’m Frodo, and you’re Sam, and my
parents are Nazgûl—“

“Wait, why do I have to be Sam?”

“Because Sam is Frodo’s gardener and that’s real life.”

They both bust out laughing, and Namjoon says, “You’re bad to me.”

“You’re the one who begged me to read them,” Jin says. “You told me they were enjoyable. That’s
the word you used. Enjoyable.”

“Were they not enjoyable?”

Jin says in a fake-soothing voice, “They were difficult, honey.”

Namjoon looks away and uses his free hand to scratch at his head. They’re at Namjoon’s
intersection, and Jin tries to turn onto his street, but Namjoon tugs him the opposite way. “Let’s go
to the park,” he says. “It’s so nice out. I don’t want to go home.”

“Okay,” says Jin, letting Namjoon lead him.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Namjoon adds quietly.

Jin grins. “Cool,” he says.

They go to the park where they spent a lot of time last summer, but haven’t seen much of this year.
It’s not huge, but it’s very natural, and if you take the path that leads to the very center you can
almost forget that you’re in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. There’s a particular spot, one
that they like, where it’s trees on all sides, where you almost can’t hear the cars, and that’s where
they go now.
Namjoon brings Jin to a cherry blossom tree that’s dropping petals even in the small breeze of the
spring afternoon. It’s silly, it’s too picturesque for who they are, sweaty and awkward and not very
sure of themselves. Jin laughs a little, because Namjoon won’t meet his eyes and he looks
generally embarrassed to be alive. But it’s really cute, and Jin pulls him in for a kiss.

“So,” says Namjoon. “I just um, wanted to bring you here because,” and he rubs his neck and
laughs to himself. “Well, I was here the other day when you went home after school. And I thought
I should bring you here. Like, it was pretty, but I thought I’d have a better time if you were here.
So.”

They’re holding hands and standing really close, but Jin wiggles in even closer to Namjoon’s side
and plants a silly kiss on his cheek. “You’re really sweet,” he says quietly. He doesn’t want
Namjoon to be embarrassed. He’s a really good boyfriend, but he’s not particularly romantic.
That’s not a problem; he’s thoughtful and obviously completely supportive. He just doesn’t usually
think of things like taking Jin to a pretty spot at the park and saying it makes him think of him. Jin
likes that a lot, though. If he didn’t think it would be kind of weird and overwhelming, if he had the
time, he’d probably be the king of grand romantic gestures. Maybe someday he will be.

“Also,” says Namjoon, clearly as embarrassed as a person has ever been, refusing to look Jin in the
face, “I got you something.”

Jin can’t help the little contented surprised noise that squeaks up his throat. “You did?”

“It’s so stupid,” says Namjoon. “But yeah.”

Jin stands there, heat rising to his cheeks, trying not to grin too eagerly. But just the idea that
Namjoon got him something is perfect. Even if it is stupid, he’ll love it. Even if it’s kind of
awkward. The reason he loves Namjoon isn’t because he’s graceful all the time. If he wanted to
date someone who was graceful all the time, he’d date Jisoo or something. But that sounds gross.
He loves Namjoon because he’s a real person, and he loves his weird gangly limbs and jerky
movements and sometimes badly-thought-out sentences. If this thing Namjoon got him actually is
stupid, Jin will still love it, because it will make him think of the big weird handsome guy who
he’s completely head-over-heels for.

But it’s not stupid. It’s so sweet. Namjoon reaches into his bag and digs around for a minute. What
he pulls out makes Jin laugh at first and then cover his face to try to take it seriously.

“See? It was a bad idea,” says Namjoon, not letting Jin grab at the fancy lemon squeezer he’s got
in his hand.

“No, no, it’s totally romantic,” says Jin, totally enamored with his awkward boyfriend and the
heavy thing that he won’t let Jin have, as if he can take it back if he doesn’t let him touch it.

“Okay, wait, I should have explained it first,” says Namjoon, but he has trouble talking because
Jin’s laughing and pecking kisses all over his face, muttering about how romantic he is. “Okay,”
says Namjoon again, and Jin backs off a little but claims Namjoon’s free arm and plays with his
fingers while he backtracks. “So, you were really excited about this at the store,” he says.

“I was,” Jin agrees, looking up from the knuckle he’s kissing.

“But also, then, you said something about how, sometime, you want to have a nice kitchen? In a
place that we’ll have together?”

“Oh no,” breathes Jin. “You’re so sweet.”

 “So,” Namjoon says. “That’s the first nice thing for your nice kitchen in the place we get together
when we’ve got our shit together, I guess.”

“You’re the best boyfriend in the world,” says Jin.

“I hope that it reminds you that things are gonna keep changing and hopefully getting better and
that I want to keep um,” and he falters again, self-conscious, while Jin gives up on his arm and
wraps him up in a hug so he can kiss his cheek and his nose. “I want to keep being around. So.”

“Okay,” says Jin simply. “Keep being around.”

Chapter End Notes

hi guys i am super sorry it took me so long to update. i had FINALS and essays and i
got a job and have been really brainsick lately so it's been slow going. hopefully it'll
pick up again now. i hope this was worth the wait xoxo
 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes

hello this chapter was going to be longer but i decided to break it into two
i took a real walk for this. i went actual outside. so enjoy it

soundtrack

“Hey, Joon,” says Jin stickily after a long stretch of quiet.

“Hmm?” says Namjoon, trying to sound like he wasn’t just half asleep. He’s so comfortable.

Jin breathes slowly like he’s also really groggy, and his voice cracks a little when he talks. “I was
just thinking. Prom’s coming up.”

That kind of wakes Namjoon up. He stops playing with Jin’s hair for a second. “Oh,” he says
neutrally.

Jin nuzzles into Namjoon’s chest a little, like he’s not close enough to be comfortable. But they’ve
been laying here on top of the covers of Namjoon’s bed since lunchtime. They were gonna take a
walk or something, but it’s just the right kind of stuffy and heavy and dim in here to make them
lethargic. They haven’t moved except to snuggle closer or adjust uncomfortable limbs or
occasionally stretch up to kiss patches of exposed skin in over two hours. “I was thinking,” says Jin
sleepily, “we should go.”

“You were?” asks Namjoon, not really awake enough to figure out what Jin’s talking about. Prom
sucks. Jin must not be talking about real life.

“Yeah, we should, right?” asks Jin. He sounds a little more alert as he keeps talking, and
Namjoon’s gone back to stroking his hair. “It’s like my last high school thing before I graduate.”

“But, you hate prom,” says Namjoon, then he yawns and stretches. It displaces Jin from his
position on Namjoon’s chest, but as soon as Namjoon readjusts so he’s half-sitting against the
headboard, he pulls Jin back in.

“Well,” says Jin, a little muffled against Namjoon’s shirt, “I hated prom last year. But I went with
Seulgi then.” He looks up at Namjoon’s face and kisses the bit of his collarbone that peeks through
his low-necked shirt. “I was thinking about you the whole time, actually,” he says against
Namjoon’s skin, making him warm there.

He kisses the place where Namjoon’s neck and shoulder meet, and then stretches to kiss up his
neck. It’s distracting, Namjoon is sleepy and can’t remember what they’re talking about, just that
Jin was thinking of Namjoon and that he’s getting incredibly good at using his mouth. Jin lingers
at the crook of his jaw and nips at the skin a little there. When Namjoon makes a noise, caught off
guard, he can feel Jin smile into it. He tilts his head back a little on reflex and Jin takes that as a cue
to kiss his adam’s apple, down a line again to the space between his collarbones, which he’s got to
stretch Namjoon’s shirt down to access.
“Hey, can you…” he starts, and Namjoon hums in agreement, already wiggling out from under Jin
so he can pull his shirt off. He tosses it aside and Jin tries to come right back in, but Namjoon
grunts disapprovingly and tugs at the hem of Jin’s shirt.

Jin pulls his off, too, and Namjoon doesn’t even really see him before he’s back down on
Namjoon’s neck, kissing like it’s been very hard to pull away for the last eight seconds. His body
heat, the feeling of his smooth skin, his soft belly against Namjoon is so good, and Namjoon
makes a noise that he doesn’t even realize is his own till it’s out. Jin replies with a muffled sound
from the place where he’s gnawing lightly on Namjoon’s shoulder.

He moves over to Namjoon’s chest and kisses down the line of his stomach, where he used to be
soft and squishy but has gotten lightly muscular in the last year. Jin traces it straight down to where
his ribs end and, in this position, hollow out a little. He kisses Namjoon’s belly and down to where
his hipbone juts out against his tan skin. He bites at the inside, making Namjoon squirm a little,
make a sound that he bites off, and sucks on the skin there so that when he pulls back he leaves
behind a little red mark. Namjoon lets out a breathy sound that he’d be embarrassed about if it
didn’t encourage Jin, who kisses across the waist of his pants to the other side and leaves another
mark, symmetrical. He places meandering kisses and a few little marks slowly back up to
Namjoon’s throat, kisses him soft and light until Namjoon nudges his face up so he can catch his
mouth.

He rubs hands up and down Jin’s warm back while he kisses deep into him. He traces Jin's
shoulderblades, the notches of his spine, the parts of him that are still soft and doughy, even though
since Namjoon met him his body’s hardened a lot. He’s still got a belly and these cute little
lovehandles. Namjoon pulls back, eventually, and says, “You’re so beautiful.” He doesn’t even
know why he says it; he can’t even see him, his eyes have been shut for most of the last three
hours. But Jin is so beautiful. He feels beautiful under Namjoon’s hands. He’s on top of Namjoon,
their chests pressed together, and he’s so warm and smooth and broad. Namjoon can feel how
much bigger and, honestly, stronger he is, even though Namjoon’s a little taller now. He’s got
definition in his shoulders, flexing a little when he reaches up to tangle his fingers in Namjoon’s
hair and pull him in. His lips are so soft and always smooth, because he uses chapstick when they
get dry, unlike Namjoon, whose lips were chapped all winter because he wasn’t used to kissing so
much. Jin always offers to share his chapstick, but Namjoon thinks that’s gross, even though he’s
got his tongue halfway down Jin’s throat right now.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says again, and Jin does his little airy laugh that comes out when he’s
feeling blissful, right up into Namjoon’s jaw, and it makes something swell up in Namjoon’s chest
that could make him cry. Something like admiration, like gratefulness. Instead of getting really
sappy, he just wraps his arms around Jin, kisses the side of his face and his ear, and rubs up and
down his back with the heels of his hands.

“I’m cold,” says Jin quietly between slow kisses. It’s starting to get close to dusk, so it’s getting
even dimmer in the room. It’s not really chilly, but the covers are inviting. Namjoon pulls them
open and fumbles into them, and Jin follows. Jin throws his arms around Namjoon under the
covers, and Namjoon lets himself be wrapped up.

“So,” says Jin again, after a long quiet in which Namjoon almost falls asleep again, feeling so safe
and comfortable and warm next to Jin. The light through the crack in Namjoon’s dark curtains has
gone from dusty and yellow to bluish. “Prom.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Namjoon. “What about it?”

“Will you go with me?” Jin’s slowly and softly tracing his soft fingers down Namjoon’s arm.
“Why?” asks Namjoon, a little more bluntly than he means to.

Jin sighs and Namjoon can feel his ribs expand against his side. “Because I think it’s important.”

“Is it?” asks Namjoon.

Jin says, “Yeah. I think so. Because we’ve been dating for a while and I think we should be open
about it. Especially because I won’t be there anymore after this. I don’t want to still be hiding when
I graduate. I don’t want anybody to think I’m ashamed.”

“I don’t think anybody thinks that,” says Namjoon. “Who thinks you’re ashamed?”

“Nobody, really,” says Jin, reaching up to rub at an eye a little distractedly. “I just don’t want to
sneak around anymore.”

Namjoon gets it. This isn’t about prom, really. “So, I don’t think we sneak around,” he says. “I
haven’t felt like we were hiding our relationship in months. Since before your parents knew,
actually.” Jin makes like he’s gonna say something, but Namjoon interrupts him. “There’s a
difference between being open about who you’re dating and telling everybody at school. There’s a
middle ground, you know?”

Jin hums in that way that means he’s kind of confused but still on board.

“Like, if we go to prom, great. We go and then everybody knows we’re dating, even the people
who didn’t go to prom, because people will gossip about us. Teachers will know. The principal
will probably know, too, right? He goes to those things, right? He’s a piece of shit. Does he deserve
to know who you love?”

“I don’t think he does,” says Jin, voice a little tight.

Namjoon knows he’s being harsh, but he’s got feelings about this. He says, “We can go if you
really want to. I will go to prom with you, of course. I’m in love with you and I’m very, very proud
of you. But it seems like a shitty scene. And I don’t want to go if the reason is so that we can like,
be gay enough, or something.”

“Well,” says Jin, small, kind of miserable, and Namjoon goes in to kiss his cheek. “I don’t want to
graduate without coming out.”

“Jin,” says Namjoon. “You have. To everybody who matters. You don’t have to get up in front of
everybody and tell them your business for it to count.”

“I… know,” says Jin, but kind of uncertainly. Like he had never put that together before.

“How many straight people do you know who never told you they were straight until you knew
them well enough to be talking about that stuff?”

“I don’t know,” admits Jin. “It’s different, though.”

“It’s not really different. It’s only different because people might hate us if we tell them. So, I think
it’s fair to say we actually shouldn’t be shouting about it to huge groups of people. We don’t owe
anybody that.”

“But how are things gonna get better for everybody else if we can’t even talk about it?”

Namjoon’s heart breaks. “Oh, Jin,” he says, sounding like his mother and not even caring. “Sweet,
beautiful boy.”

Jin squeaks, “What?”

“Maybe you should move out of the house where you’ve been disowned before you try to take on
the whole world.”

Jin is quiet for a minute, and he does the telltale thing where he breathes a little quicker than usual
but doesn’t really sniffle that means he’s trying to hold back tears. “Yeah,” he says. “Maybe.”

“Babe,” says Namjoon, “Whatever feels right to you is what I want to do. If you really want to go
to prom and drink watered down punch and wear stupid matching suits and listen to shitty music,”
and he starts to get a little mirthful, “If what you like, really really want to do is be the most alt
couple at our school,”

“Other than Nayeon and Dahyun,” Jin cuts in, then he sniffles for real and a tear falls down his
face onto the sheet between them, and his breath hitches but he doesn’t seem really sad. Just
emotional.

“We’re at least as alt as Nayeon and Dahyun,” Namjoon says. “What do they do that’s alt? They
get their clothes at the mall.”

“I get my clothes at the mall,” laughs Jin, wet sounding.

“Well, I don’t,” says Namjoon emphatically. “Anyway, right, prom, so,”

Jin whines, “Stop it.”

“So let’s go to prom. We can dance together, but like, at least 12 inches apart. That’s the rule,
right?”

“Six,” says Jin, and then sighs, tricked into participating in the conversation.

Namjoon laughs, kisses Jin’s shoulder. “Perfect. So, we’ll practically be able to grind on each
other.” He demonstrates this very gently. “I’m just really looking forward to being that close to
you, for once. And we can, like, get each other corsages, right?”

“I get it, Joonie.”

“We’ll pin them onto each other’s fucking cummerbunds or whatever.”

Jin laughs. “Say fucking cummerbund again.”

Namjoon does, but in a disgusting, slobbery voice. Then he puts his face against Jin’s neck and
says, “So, yeah, prom seems good.”

“Okay, let’s not go,” says Jin.

“Cool,” agrees Namjoon.

Jin doesn’t go home that night, but he does go home the next. Lately, he’s been spending more
nights with Namjoon, but he still doesn’t keep toiletries at Namjoon’s house, so he still has to
spend most nights at his parents’. Namjoon’s thought about asking if he wants to bring a
toothbrush over or something, but he doesn’t want to smother him. Jin’s kind of weird about
accepting help, mostly because he doesn’t like needing it. It seems like he’d rather be
inconvenienced than helped out, if it means he can feel like he’s in control of his life. It’s shitty
that he’s got to go home at all, shitty that he’s got to spend so much time there. Shitty that he’s got
to ride his bike back and forth because nobody drives, but at least the weather is nice. And things
will be different soon, because once Jin graduates, a lot is going to have to change.

Though, Namjoon doesn’t know how yet, and it’s starting to get scary. Jin’s parents have been
fucking silent for months now, but that doesn’t mean they’re not still terrifying. In fact, their
looming threat gets heavier as time passes.

Namjoon’s scared of what’s going to happen when he and Jin aren’t just high schoolers anymore,
because Namjoon’s still got two years left and Jin’s going to go off to college or work or whatever
uncharted thing, and the little fear in Namjoon’s heart is starting to take shape. Now that Jin’s cool
with himself and beautiful and about to be an adult with all these options, he might find someone
who’s better than Namjoon. He might move on with his life in the time that Namjoon still has to
spend where he is. It’s scary.

He knows he hasn’t gone through anything like what Jin has since they met, but Namjoon feels
really different, too. He used to not really care about anyone that he knew; he used to have trouble
listening to people. He used to read all the time because he hated being where he was, no matter
where he was, and needed a way to get out. He used to be mad a lot, and uninspired, and kind of
cold and distant. He feels a lot better about the world and the people he knows now. He feels nicer
and happier and better able to appreciate the good things around him. If something took Jin away
from him, maybe all of that would go, too. It feels like it comes from within him, but he can’t be
sure. Jin makes him feel really good, is all. It’s hard to think about not seeing him every day. It’s
hard to think about what comes next.

That evening, his phone rings.

“Hey,” says Namjoon, a little more sweetly than he means to. “What’s up?”

“Hi,” says Jin, breathy, like he’s trying to sound put-together.

“How’s it going?”

“Uh,” says Jin. “Something really intense just happened.” He’s speaking really lowly, and
Namjoon can hear some shuffling in the background.

“Good or bad?” asks Namjoon slowly, nerves already tensing.

Jin’s voice drops to a whisper when he says, “Really, really good. But I’m not sure if it’s a trap
yet.”

“What is it?” says Namjoon, instinctively whispering, too.

“So,” says Jin. Some shuffling. “I just got home a few minutes ago. And I ran upstairs like usual.
But my door was open. I always close it. Someone had been in there. I got so scared I couldn’t go
in for a minute, I just went and sat on the floor in the guest bedroom.”

If Jin were here, Namjoon would kiss whichever part of his body was closest right now. Instead he
makes a sympathetic sound.

“Then when I went in there was an envelope on my pillow.” He makes a noise like he disapproves,
like it’s not fair. Namjoon gets that, he’d be scared of an envelope on the pillow if he were Jin, too.
His mind flits through a lot of terrifying options, a hateful letter, notice that his room’s being rented
to someone else, a bill for all the food he’s eaten in the last four months. But, Jin said it was a good
thing.

“What was in it?” asks Namjoon uncleverly.

“A lot of money.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a check from my mom.”

“Did she say anything?”

“No. No note. She didn’t even write anything in the memo. But it’s like. More money than I’ve
ever seen, you know? I don’t know if it’s real. But, how could it not be real, right? I just don’t get
it.”

“Are you gonna cash it?”

“Well, yeah. Well. I don’t have a bank account. But I’ll figure it out.”

“You should talk to my mom when you come over tomorrow,” says Namjoon. “Actually, do you
want to talk to her now? This is so weird.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be good. I’m kind of freaking out.” Jin clips.

“Okay. Hang on.” Namjoon puts the phone down and knocks on his mom’s bedroom door.

“Just a minute,” she says. When she opens the door, she’s in her pajamas and seems tired and out of
it.

Namjoon feels bad, he knows she’s been really busy with work lately, but she still looks ready for
him. “Jin’s on the phone,” he says. “He says his mom wrote him a check for a lot of money and
left it on his pillow and he doesn’t know what to do.”

“What the fuck are these people thinking?” she snaps, suddenly not really groggy at all. “Did they
leave him a note?”

“No.”

“God dammit. Where’s your phone?”

“In the kitchen,” says Namjoon, trying hard not to grin at her.

She, in her bathrobe with her curled and greying hair going flat, storms to the kitchen counter, sits
on one of the stools, picks up Namjoon’s phone, and flatly says, “Hello, sweetheart.”

Namjoon only hears one side of the conversation, but it’s not hard to know what Jin’s saying.

“So, Namjoon told me that your mother wrote you a check? I understand if you don’t want to tell
me, but do you mind if I ask how much it’s for?” Then, “Oh. Okay. Well. That should be enough
for a little while. No, I don’t think it’s a trick. I don’t know what the point of that would be. When
you come over tomorrow I can take you to the bank and help you get an account, okay? So bring
an ID and if you can find any of your official documents and any mail in your name that would
help a lot, alright? Worst case scenario you can sign it over to me and I’ll cash it out for you.” She
pauses for a minute. “Oh, honey,” she says. “I don’t know why. It must be so frustrating. But this
is a good thing. It’s so much better than being thrown out with no help and no resources. It’s
frustrating but it’s going to help you a lot. That’s enough to get you moved out into a nice safe
place nearby with no problem, you know? I can help you find a place.” Another pause, this time a
little longer. She’s quieter this time when she replies. “Well, because we love you,” she says.
“You’re like my kid.” She laughs lightly. “I want to. Anything. Don’t worry.” She’s quiet for a
minute, and by the time she talks again she’s making a difficult face and swiping under her eyes. “I
agree,” she says. “I’m really glad you feel that way. I do, too.” Then, she says suddenly, “Okay, do
you want Namjoon back?”

She hands the phone to him, but not before bringing him in for a hug. She plants a kiss on top of his
head before pressing the phone into his hand and pushing him away with it.

“Hi again,” he says sheepishly.

“Hey,” says Jin quietly. Then he takes an audible breath on the other line and says, very carefully,
like he’s not sure how the words work, “So, I guess I’m going to move out soon?”

“Seems like it,” says Namjoon. “That sounds really great,” he says honestly. He doesn’t really get
why Jin seems so conflicted. Namjoon would love a bunch of free money. But, then again, it’s not
really free for Jin.

“Well, it is,” says Jin. “I don’t know.” He huffs. “It’s just… shitty. They don’t want me to die but
they don’t want to look at me either.”

“Yeah,” says Namjoon.

“I guess I shouldn’t care anymore,” says Jin. “I just want them to talk to me.”

“They’re helping you, though,” says Namjoon.

“They don’t understand the value of money,” Jin sighs. “It’s so much easier for them to pay me off
and let me leave quietly. I just,” he groans. “I thought there’d be something, sometime. I didn’t
think I’d just never talk to them again. I should be happy that it’s not worse, but like, it’s so bad.
You know?” He sighs. “It’s really bad.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty bad,” says Namjoon. “I’m sorry.”

“Its okay. I love you. I’m thankful for you.”

“I’m thankful for you, too.”

“Thanks for talking. I’m gonna go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” says Namjoon. “See you then. Love you.”

“Love you lots. Bye.”

Instead of going to prom, Namjoon takes Jin on a date.

He’s so self-conscious that he could die. All his own ideas make him want to throw up. But Jin’s a
sucker for romanticism; Namjoon knows he is. All it took to get Jin cooing and fawning like a
lovestruck bird was a lemon squeezer, so Namjoon knows if he’s gonna try anything romantic,
Jin’s gonna be responsive. He’s just not good at putting himself out there like that. He doesn’t want
Jin to think he’s silly.

It doesn’t stop him, in the end, from getting so shamelessly cute that even Jin could get queasy. He
runs the idea past his mom and she says, “Oh, sweetie,” in a way that makes him sure it’s worth a
shot.

Prom’s on a Saturday, so they have all day. Namjoon makes sure it lines up right so Jin stays over
the night before. He doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just waits until they’re awake and
alert and out of bed and dressed. Jin happily makes omelettes for them and Namjoon’s mom, and
Namjoon rubs at his half-closed eyes and tries not to fall asleep at the table.

Finally, though, at about noon, Jin says, “Do you want to take a walk today?” It’s only a little
defeated; he’s only been a little weird this morning. Namjoon expected that, though. It’s prom day,
after all.

Namjoon goes, “Mhmm.”

So they do, and Jin tries not to bring a jacket because they’ll “probably come right back,” and
Namjoon thinks he does a pretty good job convincing him to grab one anyway without giving
anything away.

It’s not till they’re at the bus stop that Namjoon untangles his fingers from Jin’s, plops down
theatrically on the metal bench, and grabs a crumpled wad of money from his pocket. He has
planned; he has exact change for Jin’s bus fare that he presses into his hand.

“What?” asks Jin, trying to act coy but already smiling just a little bit like he can see right through
Namjoon and knows exactly where this is going.

“Bus fare,” says Namjoon. “I think it’s supposed to be here in like, ten minutes.”

“This is the wrong way, Joonie.”

“Wrong way to what?”

“This one goes further out of town? There’s nothing back this way.”

Namjoon shrugs. “There are some things.”

“Are you going to get us stranded in the next town? Are we going to have to call your mom from a
gas station? Or should I be trusting you?”

Namjoon laughs. “You,” he says, grabbing Jin’s hand again, “Should be trusting me.”

Jin nods, smiles small, looks at Namjoon like he’s seeing him in a new way, and nods. “Okay. I
trust you.”

The bus comes, and as soon as they get on, Namjoon drags Jin to the very back. Jin sits at the
window, leans against the wall a little, and Namjoon reaches into his bag and digs around till he
finds his iPod, headphones tangled against all physics. He figures them out as best as he can,
though he leaves two knots in the cord because there’s only so much time. He scrolls around until
he finds what he’s looking for and nudges the left ear to Jin, who’s looking out the window.

“Oh,” he says, and puts it in. Namjoon puts the right ear in and starts the album he picked out. The
first song comes on, and Jin goes, “Oh,” again, and smiles so big. He keeps looking out the
window but leans into Namjoon.
They don’t have a song, really, but this album’s been with them for a while. They listened to it a
lot last summer. It’s slow and folky and quiet. It’s one of Jin’s favorites. They used to put it on
while they read and by the end of the summer, Namjoon knew a lot of the words. Namjoon’s not a
very good singer, though. He mostly only sings by accident, when he’s really into something and
not thinking. Jin, on the other hand, has a beautiful singing voice. Last summer, when it was hot
and they put this album on, sometimes Jin would sing along quietly, and now Namjoon associates
it with being happy and not worried, and Jin, and freedom, and generally feeling nice. He likes this
music. It feels like wood floors and bike rides and picking fruit from the neighbors’ trees.

Jin looks out the window, and as they leave town, the trees get thicker and lusher around them.
Eventually, they’re driving right up next to the river, the only thing between it and them the foliage
that dapples Jin’s face as it blurs by. It’s bright, and it’s the end of spring and everything looks so
alive, the trees yellow and green, branches mossy, forest shimmering with clean breeze, and the
shade and the light play on Jin’s face and hands. When the sun comes through brightest on Jin’s
face, it lightens his dark eyes to a woody brown, and Namjoon’s not even embarrassed to be
staring. He squeezes Jin’s hand. Jin turns to him and gives him a comfortable look that sits between
them perfectly.

They get to their stop before the album ends, but they can finish it on the way back. They’re about
fifteen minutes out of town, on the side of the road, by a bridge that leads over the river to a
marshy little island. Namjoon’s only been here a few times, and always in the fall, for corn mazes
and pumpkins before Halloween. He’s been meaning to come back, though. Thinking about it. He
likes nature a lot. He likes quiet. He likes feeling like he has open space to think. But he likes it
better when Jin’s around.

“So,” says Namjoon, leading toward the bridge that crosses the river.

“I’ve never been here,” says Jin quietly, lacing his hand with Namjoon’s, hiking his bag up on his
shoulder.

“I’ve never been here this time of year,” says Namjoon. “I think there are markets and stuff,
though.”

“It’s so pretty out today,” says Jin. He stops halfway over the bridge and leans over. The river is
narrow here, and slow, and there are ducks talking to each other in grassy patches toward the edges.
There’s a light breeze, and it’s pleasantly quiet. Not really quiet, though, because when Namjoon
comes up to stand beside Jin, and they lean over the bridge together for a minute, there’s the sound
of breeze whistling through the tall grasses on the other side of the river, and the sound of tree
branches and leaves rustling together, and the ducks below them and the other birds chirping down
a little further, and they can even hear insects buzzing.

They walk over, and down the road which turns from pavement to dirt. They pass a little restaurant
right away, but then it clears out to farmland. For a while they walk past rows of different
vegetables, houses set far back from the road. In between farms, there’s nothing but tall grasses,
spare stress, and ponds. It feels like they’re in a huge place; Namjoon feels like he can see the
whole sky. It’s blue, and bright, but not oppressive. There are some clouds, but they’re happy and
airy and translucent. It smells like earth and grass and living things. It smells clean. They pass a big
white house set back far from the road, then there’s nothing for a while. The cars that pass them
infrequently start to sound really loud and jarring against the slow place they’re in. Namjoon holds
Jin’s hand and they walk without saying anything for a little while. It’s quiet between them but
they’re here together, bathing in this together.

They don’t have anywhere to be, so when they pass a little parking lot that opens onto a trail into
the woods, Namjoon tips his head toward it. Jin says, “Oh, yeah. Let’s,” so they do.

The trail leads quickly down through a clearing, bordered on all sides by huge, imposing dark
trees, and Jin jokes, “I just know that a witch lives here.”

“I think you’re right,” says Namjoon. It does seem like a place where a witch would live. The trees
are so intertwined with one another that there’s no sense of where they begin and end. There’s no
way to stray more than a few feet from the path without climbing over something and probably
upsetting a lot of little creatures sleeping among the fallen leaves. As soon as they’re far away from
the main road, fully surrounded by forest, there’s a pleasant hum of insects, and as they continue
down the path, the edges rustle every so often. When Namjoon looks close, he can sometimes see a
little bird hopping away. “But I think it’s a nice witch,” he says.

They come upon a marshy lake. Ducks glide sleepily along the surface of the water, but when Jin
tries to get close, they yell and most of them fly away, except for a pair who swim away like they
don’t care so much. Namjoon says, “Those ones are us,” but quietly, because the less noise he
makes, the more he can see and hear. A blue bird swoops in front of them and lands in a tree, on a
branch where Namjoon would never have noticed it otherwise.

The path winds around the lake, but the further they walk, the more the water opens up and the
bigger it seems. Jin calls it a “trick swamp” but Namjoon just shrugs and says that they don’t have
anywhere to be and he’s sure they’ll get back sometime.

The further they go, the narrower the path gets. They pass below a few farms, a burned out barn,
and some open grass. Jin makes friends with a big fat bee, and Namjoon meets a little snake. He
laughs; he never knew they made a real slithering sound when they moved before.

The sounds of nature become louder as they get thicker. The foliage rustles constantly, and bugs
land on their arms, and they walk under a tree just as a woodpecker starts tapping. Jin screams
quietly, ducking down and covering his head, and then laughs airily until the woodpecker taps
again and he startles almost as badly the second time. Under the cool of a particularly thick shady
tree, Jin pulls Namjoon in and kisses him for a long time. They stand there holding each other after,
just breathing, but then it gets uncomfortable. They’re right up against this low marsh, and it’s
hotter down here and a little muggy, so Namjoon pulls off his flannel and ties it around his waist.
Jin took his hoodie off a long time ago, slinging it over his shoulder.

They walk over a foot bridge and Jin says, “Do you think there’s a troll under here?”

“Yeah, this is my house,” says Namjoon.

“Sure,” says Jin. “Handsomest troll I’ve ever seen. Can I be the witch?”

“Mmhmm,” hums Namjoon. “Perfect couple.”

Jin nods, smile making his eyes go small. He grabs Namjoon’s hand to steady him while he walks
at the very edge of the bridge and leans over. There are ducks among the tall grasses, and huge
geese chatting further off.

Jin takes a leak in the woods and then brags about it. “It’s no big deal,” he says, smug smile on his
face, “But I am a mountain man now.” He huffs a contented breath. “I’m rugged.”

Namjoon dramatically agrees, and Jin thwaps his arm. “I’m perseverant,” he insists. “I can do
anything. Absolutely anything.” Namjoon actually agrees this time, all joking aside.

For a while, Namjoon is sure they’ve gone the wrong way, because the path keeps getting smaller
and they haven’t seen or heard anything other than nature in the better part of an hour, but then it
starts subtly widening and the gnats that hang languidly in the air get thinner and he knows they’ve
made it almost the whole way around. The lake comes back into view through the trees shortly
after, glittering happily in the sunlight. They’re on a little dock, and Namjoon kisses Jin there.

They get back to where they started. Namjoon’s got a light feeling in his chest, and his body is sore
but it doesn’t really hurt. It feels good. Used properly.

On the way out, they look at the board that they neglected when they stepped into the forest on a
whim, and find out they’ve walked almost three miles without even realizing. Stepping back onto
the road is almost jarring; Namjoon’s sure no one here can fathom the importance of what they’ve
just done. Still, they continue on the way they were going before, long sleeves back on, quiet
comfortably between them, like they never left.

The road takes a turn before long, and the houses get a little closer together. Then, it’s like they’re
in a real neighborhood, houses set back from lush, tangled trees, and many of the houses they walk
past are farms with little signs saying things like Fresh Eggs. There’s a family sitting in the front
yard of one of the houses they pass, little girl in a blue dress playing on a swing, and the mother
waves and greets them as they pass. They meander, walking without a real sense of time or space
or anything except the breeze and the clean smell of the air and the glimpses of river that
sometimes peek between houses, the hazy mountains in the near distance and the white-capped
ones far away. They talk, but not really about anything.

“Oh, pick your own strawberries. That’s sweet,” says Jin as they walk past a cozily ramshackle old
farmhouse with a sign out front.

“Hm, yeah. Sweet,” agrees Namjoon, and he’s already wordlessly tugging Jin down the gravel
driveway to the door where the handpainted wooden sign points. Jin looks at Namjoon
inquisitively, and Namjoon shrugs and tugs Jin’s hand until he gives in and walks along. Jin’s had
a little smile on since they woke up, gone content since their walk, but it’s getting brighter. He’s
glowing; in the shade he’s bright. When they get there, there’s a little sign on the front door that
says, “Open, Come in!” so Namjoon pulls it and a small bell tinkles.

A voice calls from behind a closed door, “One moment!” Some noises, and then the door opens
and a woman who only seems a handful of years older than them comes forward, in overalls and
muddy gloves. She grins. “Hello! How can I help you today?”

Namjoon fumbles. “We uh,” he says quietly, and Jin elbows him lightly, playfully, nudging him
forward a little. “We saw your sign. Pick your own strawberries.”

She nods encouragingly. “Yes,” she says. “We do that here. It’s still pretty early in the season, so
you’re some of the first. There’s lots of good stuff out there.” She looks to Namjoon like she’s
making sure they’re on the same page, so he nods. She reaches under her counter and pulls out
three different sized baskets. “These are your size choices,” she says. “I’d suggest you each get one
of the small ones here? The quarts?”

Namjoon starts to nod, but then Jin whispers into his ear from behind. “Wanna do the big one
together?”

“The big one?” asks Namjoon, turning around. “That’s got to fit like, fifteen thousand
strawberries.”

“At least,” muses Jin.

“It’s really only about a hundred,” the woman says brightly. “Anybody can find a use for a
hundred strawberries.” She makes eye contact with Jin, who looks completely overwhelmed, and
she has the nerve to wink at him.

Jin makes a sweet little hmph and says, “Think of the fruit salad. Think of the strawberry pie.”
Wistfully, he says, “Chocolate strawberries.” He pokes Namjoon in the side to punctuate.
“Strawberry tart. Strawberry shortcake. Should I stop? I need at least a hundred. Maybe more.”

“We have a deal on bulk,” clips the woman.

“Don’t encourage this,” says Namjoon in exasperation, pointing between the two berry monsters
who are trying to hurt him, but everybody’s in on the joke, and Jin’s leaning on Namjoon, and, not
to be sappy, but Namjoon would buy Jin a million strawberries. He looks at the prices, thinks about
the amount of money he has in his pocket, and points at the big basket. “Okay,” he says. “This
one’s good.”

Picking berries is really fun. It takes concentration, and they have to stay close since they’re
sharing a basket, and Namjoon’s so enamored with Jin. Everything about him. He sees a
strawberry he likes and makes this little humming sound like he’s telling it it’s done well. He eats
almost as many as he picks, and when he leans in to kiss Namjoon, he tastes like them, but still like
himself, and Namjoon feels like he’s got to squeeze him so hard that he knows Namjoon loves him.
But that’s too intense for a quiet little strawberry patch, so he just kisses Jin’s sweet lips another
time and says, “Hey, love you.”

“You too,” says Jin, and it’s quick and flippant and he doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing,
but Namjoon almost likes it better that way. He means it, he knows he does, but it’s easy to say
now. And it’s easy to feel.

On the way back up to the bus stop, they take turns carrying the heavy basket. It's harder than it
seems, and it's a pretty long walk back, but they manage, and they have berries to eat along the
way.
 Chapter 12
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Jin finds a place to live a couple of weeks before he graduates, no small thanks to Namjoon’s mom.
In fact, it’s all thanks to her, because Jin doesn’t even know where to start when he looks on his
own. He’s scrolling on this website on his phone one afternoon, lounging comfortably with
Namjoon on the couch, and off-handedly asks, “What does it mean if it says sober housing?”
Namjoon’s mom’s eyes narrow on Jin’s face in a long-suffering way and she takes it into her own
hands after that.

She, in the end, finds him a tiny studio apartment that he completely adores. It’s in a half-deserted
old rent-controlled building in the middle of the city, crumbling and messy-halled and cheap, but
the apartment itself is exactly what Jin wants. It’s on the second floor, in the back corner of the
building so there are windows on two sides. One of the windows has a view of the busy street
below, and the other opens onto an orange tree outside the window. He tried, and he can’t reach
any of the fruit, but that’s okay. It’s pretty, and when he opens the window he can hear it rustling
out there.

The main room isn’t big, but it’s the perfect size for him. The closet is more like a boudoir, big
enough to change in, and the floors are wood and the bathroom’s got an old claw-foot tub that’s
deeper than any he’s ever had access to. And there’s a kitchen.

Namjoon’s mom warned him that a lot of studios share kitchens with the main room, lots of them
have mini fridges and aren’t big enough to really cook in. Jin, though, has got a full-sized fridge
and a gas stove and a lot of cabinet space. He almost fainted when he saw it. Really.

Namjoon’s mom tells him that it’s not the safest place he could choose to live. The neighborhood
isn’t great and the building isn’t terribly well-secured. But, it’s close to buses, and a lot of things
are walkable, unlike in the suburb where they live. “Seriously,” she says to him. “If you don’t
drive, location is really important.”

“Why do you live way out here then?” Jin asks.

“Because Joon’s dad and I bought this house when we got married. He used to do the driving. It
made sense twenty years ago. I’ve made do, but really. You should live closer to the city if you’re
not going to drive.”

“Why don’t you drive?” Jin asks then. He’s sort of been wondering about that; Namjoon and his
mom aren’t wealthy, but they don’t struggle either. And Jin knows a lot of people who do struggle
and still have cars. It’s always confused him a little.

Namjoon’s mom makes a noise like she doesn’t care, but her voice squeaks just a little bit.
Namjoon’s stopped rubbing Jin’s back as well, and Jin wonders what he’s done wrong. Namjoon’s
mom says, “Well, honey, I was fourteen when my brother and my dad were in a car accident and
died.”

Jin remembers hearing that now. His eyes go wide and he nods slowly, feeling heavy and sorry.

“I was supposed to learn to drive the next year, but my mother wasn’t ready to teach me. And I
wasn’t ready either.” She huffs a breath. “I never ended up learning. I thought a lot about it, but
every time I decided I should take lessons, I thought about being fifteen and horrified that I’d mess
up and kill everyone. So I never learned.” She smiles at Jin, reassuring. “I still don’t really like
sitting in cars, but that might be because I haven’t ridden in them much since Namjoon was little. I
get queasy now.” She finishes mirthfully, but her eyes are sad.

Jin swallows. “Sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she says, and gives him the warm grin that Jin knows so well. Both she
and Namjoon make this face sometimes, dimpled and forgiving and all love. It’s one of the only
times that Jin really sees much resemblance between them. He saw a picture of Namjoon’s dad
once, and he looks a lot more like him. Tall and long-legged, sharp, a little gangly, but soft-faced.
Namjoon’s dad, though, wasn’t nearly as handsome. Jin’s definitely biased, but he’s sure he’s also
right. Anybody can see that his boyfriend is superlatively good-looking, he’s sure.

Namjoon goes back to rubbing Jin’s back, and Jin lays his head back down in Namjoon’s lap,
staying lazy and still in the heat that’s already starting to get stifling, even though it’s still
technically spring.

Jin moves in the middle of the night. It’s a logistical hassle, because nobody can drive so they can’t
rent a truck themselves, and nobody they can hire wants to move someone out at 2 in the morning.
Eventually, though, Mingyu overhears them talking about it at lunch and says, in trademark
Mingyu fashion, where he’s been taking part in these conversations for weeks but like he’s only
just now realized what they’ve been talking about, “Oh. My dad’s got a truck. Should I ask him?”

Namjoon sighs, defeated. They’ve been getting stressed about this. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, ask
him. Thank you.”

In the end, they have to pay Mingyu’s dad to help them at such a weird hour, but it’s not a whole
lot, and they make a plan to move him out on the last day of May.

Jin packs for a single trip. It’s a big truck, and he doesn’t like most of the things he owns anyway.
He doesn’t want to keep his old clothes; he can’t move his bed and is currently just planning on
sleeping on some blankets on the floor until he can figure something else out. He has an end table
he likes, he wants to keep his desk if he can. He’s really not sure about the etiquette of taking
furniture that his parents bought him while he secrets himself away in the dead of night, but he’s
also really not sure about the etiquette of ignoring your son for six months.

He’s sure they’ll hear him, but equally sure they won’t respond to him. He’s cried before, loud
enough to be heard, he’s sure, and they’ve never come to check on him. He accidentally dropped a
textbook down the stairs at 3am once, and nobody got up to see what the noise was. He’s sure
they’ll know that he’s moving out, and they’ll let him go in peace.

He, increasingly, wishes they’d talk to him, but he knows they won’t. He wants them to talk to him
so that he can fight them. But that’s not a productive way to feel, and Jin tries to look to the future
instead. It helps, but there’s still this sharp, hot feeling that thrums under his skin when he thinks
about how shitty this whole thing has been. He wants them to know how much they’ve hurt him,
wants them to feel guilty, because this has always been about avoiding guilt. When they look back,
they’ll be able to think that they left him with a place to stay and money to start over, and never
even technically kicked him out, and they won’t have to acknowledge that they made Jin feel so
lonely, and made him hate himself, and sometimes made him think he deserved it. He just wants
them to know, he wants them to have to look him in the face and see that he’s angry and that they
hurt him, but that he’s doing very well and they have nothing to do with that. They want him to be
hurt and scared, and they want to see him weak. Jin’s not weak, though. He’s just not.

He’s thought a lot about confronting them when he goes, but he’s decided not to. The best thing he
can do is show them the same reverence they show him. The best he can do is get away from them,
and move into his bright and happy new apartment, and make it comfortable and appreciate it so
much more because he knows what it feels like not to be welcome somewhere. The best he can do
is be stronger than his parents are, and never, ever treat someone the way he’s been treated. Learn
from this how to treat the people he loves. Protect the people he holds close.

Still, on the night, he can’t help but be upset. He’s kind of quiet and stony as Namjoon and his
mom and Mingyu all help bring things downstairs, and Mingyu’s dad loads everything up. It
doesn’t take long at all. Jin isn’t bringing very much. So many of the things in this room are things
he doesn’t mind leaving behind.

They have the furniture loaded and most of the boxes, and Jin’s just trying to heft a badly packed
box of books when he sees somebody extra in the doorway.

He doesn’t need this, he thinks, and a panic sharper and more intense than he’s felt in a while stabs
at his chest when his mom comes into view. Not Namjoon’s mom, the real one. Jin hasn’t even
seen her face in so long. The best view of any of them he’s gotten lately is when they’re sitting in
the living room or at the table when he comes home, but when he sees them there he keeps his
head down and darts upstairs as quickly as he possibly can.

This is horrible, and even in the darkness, he sees her in a different way. She looks so tired. He
wonders if she always has. She’s in her pajamas. She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and neither
does Jin, and Namjoon and his mom are standing behind him like they’re not sure what to do
either.

It’s still and tense in the room until Mingyu bounds in and says, in his affected quiet-voice, “What
else you got?” Then, he sees what’s happening, and he says, “Oops.”

Finally, Jin whispers, and it sounds strung-out and hoarse and weird. “Why right now?”

His mom’s face folds in a little, her lips stretching into a frown, her eyes squinting almost shut, like
she’s holding her tears back. She says, “I don’t know.”

“You can’t do this,” says Jin, and then he’s crying.

She inhales sharply, and he knows she’s crying too, and he’s really never seen her do this. Maybe
once in his life. He’s seen her look like she’s been crying, but it’s never been like this, her biting
her lips to hold it in just like what Jin does. It’s fucked up. He doesn’t know if he pities her or hates
her. Both. “I know,” she chokes out. “I shouldn’t.”

Now that this is happening, Jin doesn’t want it. He takes it back. He doesn’t want the big fight.
Because right now, he doesn’t want to argue, he doesn’t want to show her. He just wants to cry
harder. Namjoon subtly, quietly reaches forward and offers Jin a hand. He takes it, laces his fingers
with it, grips it so tight that his fingertips go cold. Namjoon squeezes back. Jin says, quietly, “It’s
too late.”

His mom says, “I know.”

“Then why are you here?” he says, and it’s snippy even though he’s sniffling. “I’m busy now.”

“I just,” she starts, and then she covers her face and takes a heavy breath before going on, “I needed
to see you before you went.”
Jin’s still crying, but suddenly, he’s mad. She shouldn’t be making him cry right now. He’s busy.
Mingyu’s dad is waiting downstairs. There are people around. This is wrong, and it’s not fair. He
says, “No, okay? Not right now. You want to talk to me, call me tomorrow or something. I’m
trying to move.”

She sobs. She says, “Please, Seokjin.”

Suddenly, he’s furious. He might just be cynical, his parents might have just succeeded in turning
him cold, but he suddenly feels like she’s got some other motive here. He can picture her saying, I
begged him to stay. He can picture her using his coldness toward her as some kind of excuse for
letting him leave. She is not a good person. She’s tried, a little, but she’s never, ever put Jin before
herself. That’s what a mom does; that’s what Namjoon’s mom does, and Jin knows who he trusts
here. He knows who loves him. So, he steps back so he’s closer to his family. Namjoon’s mom
pats him on the shoulder and keeps her hand there. That’s where he needs to be standing. His tears
are angry now, hot. “I don’t want you here,” he says. “I want you to go.”

And she does, reluctantly, slowly, awkwardly. But she does. And when Jin finally takes his last
load, and he checks to make sure he’s got everything, and it’s time to go, he leaves his house key
on the kitchen table.

His new apartment is wonderful. He gets moved in and buys a few things for it. Not much, because
he’s decided to get a summer job, and he can get furnished then. For now he just gets ingredients
for sandwiches and some towels and a fan; it’s hot on the second floor in the sun. He wasn’t above
stripping his bedding and taking his pillows, so he’s set in that regard, though the first couple
nights on the floor he sleeps badly. It’s okay, though, it’s got to be mostly the nerves. It’s
exhilarating to live alone. Every time there’s a noise he doesn’t recognize and he’s not afraid, he
congratulates himself. Every time he makes himself a sandwich and eats it sitting cross-legged on
the floor, he’s overwhelmed with pride. He’s providing for himself.

He graduates high school. Not valedictorian, not even in the top 10%. But he can’t be assed to
worry about that, really. He did graduate, he got through it. And now it’s over and now there’s
nothing ahead of him but multitudinous choices and anything and everything. Nothing ahead of
him but figuring out what it is that he really loves, what it is he really wants to do, and taking care
of himself better than anyone else has ever been able, and keeping Namjoon close. He knows he
doesn’t really understand what it’s like to take care of yourself yet. But he’s sure it’s better than
what he’s had before, and he’s sure he’s up to the challenge. Because he is up to anything.

As soon as school ends, he starts looking for work.

It’s hard; harder than he expected. He’s not a legal adult yet, though he’s out of school—a
drawback to skipping grades—so he’s got to show a lot of extra documentation to potential
employers and most of them don’t even bother to schedule interviews. The interviews he gets are
for fast food, and they want him to start immediately working unholy hours and Jin’s sorry but he
just doesn’t see himself as flourishing behind a cash register in an ill-fitting uniform. He’d just get
tired.

When he does find a job, it’s several lazy weeks into the summer, and it’s thanks, again, to
Namjoon’s mom, though indirectly. Jin didn’t hear about this, but she’d apparently asked a few
people she knew about job openings. One morning on the bus Namjoon tells Jin about it with shy
look on his face; he says, “I heard her on the phone with someone. She basically said she’d love
them forever if they found her son’s boyfriend a job and that she’d hire you herself if she could
possibly justify it. She called you inexperienced, but clever, and great with people, and delightful.
She said if you messed up she’d personally answer for it.”

Jin, still, isn’t used to hearing things like that, and it catches on his heart for a minute. He finally
says, “I don’t think she means all that.”

Namjoon laughs low in his throat. “Oh, she does,” he says. “I think she’d kill someone for you if
she had to. You should have heard her after your mom interrupted you moving.”

Jin laughs; he can picture it. Namjoon’s mom is not forgiving when it comes to Jin’s parents.
Neither, really, is Jin.

Namjoon says, “For the record, she’s right about you.”

“Okay,” says Jin.

“I’m serious. You’re delightful.”

Jin turns to kiss Namjoon’s ear. “You’re delightful,” he whispers.

It’s their stop, just about a mile from Jin’s apartment, actually walkable but he’s still learning how
to get around. They walk a few blocks. Jin memorized the route. The neighborhood isn’t fancy, but
a lot of the shops look interesting. They pass a few cheap stuff stores and a few restaurants and a
sex shop. When they arrive, it’s at a bakery, and it looks empty except for the stout old man behind
the counter.

They pull on the door, but it’s locked. The man at the counter looks up from the wad of bills he’s
counting, grimaces for second, but then seems to register who they must be. He comes to unlock it
for them, welcomes them, and they walk in together. Namjoon recognizes the old man, but in a
very formal way, a way where he says hello stiffly and the man mentions how much smaller
Namjoon was when he saw him last. Jin doesn’t know how long ago it might have been, though;
Namjoon was much smaller just year ago than he is now. He’s like, a grown man all of a sudden.
With sharp shoulders that Jin’s looking at when the man says, “And are you Jin?”

“I am,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s good to meet you, as well. I’m Kijung. Would you like to come into the office with me?” he
asks. He seems kind, his smile is genuine. He seems unfrazzled by the fact that Jin is Namjoon’s
boyfriend, which takes a weird weight off Jin’s chest. It’s just an underlying thing, not the worst,
but Jin definitely wondered what he was going to do when he did finally get a job. If Namjoon
came to meet him after his shift, would he hold his hand on the way out? If he made friends with
his coworkers, would he tell them? Could it put his job in danger? He’s never done this before, any
of this, and it’s just comforting to walk into this interview with his boyfriend and have that be
expected and be greeted warmly. It’s just comforting, that’s all.

Jin and Kijung go to the back, into a cramped office that looks like it hasn’t been refurnished since
the 70’s, and maybe it hasn’t. There are two reddish-brown chairs, and Kijung takes the one behind
the desk. He gestures for Jin to sit at the one across from him.

Kijung straightens a small stack of papers, and Jin’s suddenly reminded of the last time he spoke to
his father, though not in a bad way. That was in the green office, with the cold light of the desk
lamp, and his father had ignored him. Here, the walls are warm and yellow and Kijung is making
eye contact over the desk, and Jin feels really good. He has a moment where he can really tangibly
feel how much things are changing, how good they’re getting. He feels so good.

“So,” smiles Kijung. “I got your information from Kyonghwa, but I haven’t heard much else.
You’re a recent high school graduate?”

“Yes,” says Jin. “I just graduated.”

“Congratulations,” says Kijung, and he sounds like he means it. “And you don’t have any work
experience? Or a résumé?”

“I have a résumé,” says Jin. Of course he does. What kind of debate club member, would-be
valedictorian, two-year student council treasurer and ex-junior class president doesn’t have a
résumé? “But it’s mostly like, professional. It’s not really relevant.” Still, he reaches into his bag,
into the folder he brought, to pull out the copy that he printed at the library (walking distance from
his new apartment) just in case.

Kijung laughs kindly. “Hard work is hard work,” he says. “There’s nothing at this job that’s not
teachable.” Jin hands him the paper and he looks over it, humming in satisfaction. He takes just a
moment with it, and then says, “Can I ask why you’re looking for work at a bakery and not going
to college, or looking for internships?”

Jin’s thought about this. He did an interview practice with Namjoon’s mom and she asked him a
really similar question. “Well,” he says, “I’m not sure what I want to do yet. I just graduated, and
things have been really confusing,” he says honestly. “So I’m not looking for a career yet, or a
school. I’m just trying to get my feet under me. Also,” he says wryly, “I really need a break from
academics.”

Kijung laughs. “That’s wise,” he agrees. “I wish my daughters had taken gap years. Instead, one of
them’s in college for the third time, and the other’s unhappy with her job. Not that I’m upset,” he
clarifies. “I just think it’s mature to take some time to self-search.”

“I am the king of self-searching,” says Jin, smile on his face.

Kijung looks at one of the papers he’s got on his desk, and seems to get a cue from it. “So, why
would you like to work here?” he asks.

Jin’s got this question well-practiced. “I love cooking, and food,” he starts. “I know this is just a
customer service job, but I read that there are opportunities to cross-train and learn about baking,
and that’s really exciting for me. I am really excited to work with food, especially since you make
it from scratch here. That’s really cool, and I’d be really excited to learn about that.”

Kijung nods slowly, sizing Jin up, looking approving. “Good,” he says.

The rest of the interview mostly involves Kijung letting Jin know the job description, the hours,
the expectations, and finally, the pay. After Jin’s done nodding at all of it, Kijung says, “What do
you think?”

“It sounds really great,” says Jin. “It sounds good.”

“Would you be available to start working next week?”

Jin startles. “Wait, you’re offering me a job?”

“Well, yes,” says Kijung, like it’s common sense. “I’d be lucky to have you.”
Jin thanks Kijung profusely, accepts, and signs a bunch of papers before he comes out to meet
Namjoon.

As they walk out together, Namjoon asks in a lilting voice, “So, how’d it go?”

Jin pecks a quick kiss on Namjoon’s cheek. “Super,” he says. “I work there now.”

Namjoon pecks a responding kiss on Jin’s cheek. “Wow,” he says. “Moving up.”

Jin hums. “Yep,” he says. “Your boyfriend’s a breadwinner now. Actually, really, because
apparently I get unlimited access to day-olds.”

Namjoon draws out, “Ohhh. That’s too much power for one Jin.”

Jin shrugs, glowing in the affection. “I think I can handle it.”

Jin’s mom doesn’t call. Not for weeks. And when she does, it’s only twice, both times when Jin’s
busy, and she doesn’t leave messages. She doesn’t keep trying, and Jin doesn’t call her back. He
thinks he might talk to her someday, but not now. Now, he’s angry, and she’s still not trying hard
enough for him. When she gets serious about it, maybe things can be different.

Namjoon’s mom is reluctant to let Namjoon stay over at Jin’s place for a little while. They get it,
but it’s frustrating. They’ve been dating for a thousand years, it feels like. Jin sleeps in Namjoon’s
bed half the time, and Jin spent almost all of his first paycheck on a bed and a mattress, which he
had delivered. It’s really comfortable to be in his apartment now, and Jin likes spending his nights
there. He likes how it feels to come up the stairs and walk down the creaky hall and unlock the
door and step into his pretty apartment, his own space, with the soft yellow light of the floor lamp
that he leaves on during the day because it’s sometimes dark when he gets home from working and
walking around and going places. He’d like it more if he and his boyfriend could fall asleep
together there.

It’s frustrating that he can’t just take Namjoon over at night. It takes some convincing. Both Jin
and Namjoon get it, but it’s not like they don’t fool around when she’s not there. Sometimes even
when she is there. It’s not like they don’t fool around a lot at Jin’s apartment in the daytime.
Namjoon’s mom has got to be aware of this. They get that it’s her duty as a parent to make it a little
hard on them, but it sucks.

Eventually, she gives in, but she tells then they have to come back unfairly early in the morning.
It’s still worth it, though. Falling asleep in his own place wrapped around Namjoon is sweeter than
he thought it would be. Namjoon dozes off on the bus back, head resting on Jin’s shoulder. They
spend most of the day reading under the cherry blossom tree they like at the park.

Jin’s apartment becomes a regular hang-out spot for all his friends. So much so that Wonwoo gives
him an old swamp cooler that his parents had leftover from before they upgraded to real air
conditioning. Jin’s endlessly grateful for this; there’s nothing like maintaining a humane
temperature in one’s place of residence.

Sometimes one or two of his friends come over, sometimes they stay the night. They’re all from
the suburbs, so everyone loves Jin’s cool new inner-city apartment with its string lights (which he
only really got because they’re cheap, but they really do add to the mood) and the photos taped to
the wall from the disposable camera Namjoon insisted on carrying around one week. Also, they
like him because he always has snacks, and he lets them spend the night.

Dahyun takes him up on that more than a few times. They sleep in Jin’s big bed together and look
up at the ceiling and stay up really late just talking about stuff. Wonwoo stays over a couple times
as well, but he sleeps on the floor and leaves early to go do stuff downtown.

It’s really nice to have them around, because so many of them graduated with Jin: Momo, Dahyun,
Nayeon, and Sana. Some of them are leaving the city for college, and it’s hard to accept that their
little group is starting to dissolve. They’ve been so important, and Jin loves them. But he thinks
they’ll all still stay friends even if things inevitably change, and they still have the whole summer
to be who they are right now.

Jin starts hosting the Dungeons and Dragons stuff. Momo spent the first couple weeks of the
summer studying for her driver’s test, and her parents got her a car for graduation, so she shuttles
everybody from their neighborhood to Jin’s place, and they stay up late hollering about monsters
once a week. It’s a really good situation for Jin, because he really starts taking pride in the food he
makes them. He tests new recipes on them, because even if he makes something majorly flawed,
they’re all really thankful, and they’re all always really hungry so they eat it anyway. It’s also nice
that this is his own home, so he can relax even though he’s not playing. Though, against all the
morals he’s ever held dear to himself, he does start playing eventually. His character is just as
Momo once predicted, an elf sorceress, who wields considerable arcane power but ends up being
more of a burden to the campaign than an asset.

Jin’s sitting at the counter at work one day. It’s the slow time; it’s high summer and business slows
down in the afternoon when the sun gets really unforgiving. He’s reading a book. He’s not
supposed to have his cell phone out, even when there are no customers, because Kijung says that
looks unprofessional. Books are okay, though, so he’s reading something Namjoon had on his
bookshelf but hasn’t read, some weird sci-fi book that hasn’t really caught his interest yet, but he
hasn’t brought anything else and it’s too hot to hit his list of side tasks right now. Just thinking
about getting up to sweep is giving him pit stains. He rests his chin on the counter and lazily flips
pages, consolidates tips, straightens the pens in the cup by the register. Gets up to stretch and sits
right back down. Today’s starting to get miserable.

Then, while he’s got his eyes downcast trying once again to squeeze some, any enjoyment out of
his book, wondering why he’s dating someone who gets this excited about things like generation
ships, wondering why he doesn’t start getting book recommendations from Nayeon, who reads
books with covers that he’s not embarrassed to be seen holding, the little bell on the door jingles.

He’s ready to give the customer a look. Not a rude look, per se, just a look. Just to let them know
he’s busy right now, melting. Working in a place that’s full of ovens is not conductive to having
energy when it’s this hot outside.

But it’s not just some asshole with a personal vendetta who wants to make Jin move his sticky
skeleton at siesta time. It’s Namjoon, and he’s glistening with sweat but he’s grinning and holding
two cups of boba. Jin can’t even fake a long-suffering sigh when he processes what’s happening,
he just sits up straight and goes, “Oh, hi!”

“Hey,” says Namjoon, panting, and he comes up and leans on the counter, offering Jin the fairly
melty-looking cup of pink smoothie and a wrapped straw. Jin takes it eagerly, and in one motion
swirls the smoothie a little to mix it back up, stabs the straw into the plastic and takes a big drink.

“Oh,” he says, after swallowing. “Strawberry?”

“Yes, your favorite,” says Namjoon, grinning a little evilly. He knows that Jin is so tired of
strawberries. And he is, he really is, after having to find a use for over a hundred strawberries,
because the berry lady had given them a free quart because she liked them, or maybe hated them,
and after making and giving desserts to all his friends, who then assumed that he just loved
strawberries, and then got together to get him a big fucking strawberry cake with whipped cream
frosting as a housewarming gift. He wants to take a break from strawberries now, but everybody
thinks they’re his thing. Namjoon’s mocking him.

“Yes, my favorite,” says Jin sourly, but he’s still fucking drinking it because despite the fact that
he’d prefer another kind of berry or ideally a drupe or a pome, the cold sweet drink is changing
Jin’s life right now. For what it’s worth, Namjoon’s cup is is pink, too. “What are you doing here?”
he asks with a mouthful of smoothie.

Namjoon shrugs, grabs a napkin from a dispenser on the counter, dabs his face with it. “I didn’t
have anything to do today. So.”

Jin smiles wide. “You came all this way just to bring me boba?”

Namjoon looks away and says, “Well, I was thinking of going to the bookstore, or like, that place
with all the bones. But kinda yeah.”

He seems embarrassed, and that makes Jin laugh. He wonders when Namjoon will realize that Jin
lives for that kind of off-the-cuff thinking-of-you romantic-type stuff, but he sort of hopes it’s
never. Bashful Namjoon looking at his shoes is really cute. “Oh,” Jin says shortly. “Well I’m off in
an hour. Wanna hang out? Or come back later?”

Namjoon nods and says, “Oh, sure. Yeah. I don’t have anywhere to be. Can I hang out?”

“Of course. It’s gonna be slow. I have some stuff to get done before I go, though. You’ll be bored.
Actually, wait.”

He’s got an idea. He grabs the book he’s been suffering through off the counter and chucks it at
Namjoon, who catches it barely with fumbling fingers and whines, “Why?”

“This book,” Jin says, finally rejuvenated enough from the smoothie to act properly put-upon, “Is
not good.”

“Oh, sorry. I haven’t read it yet. The cover is cool.”

“The cover is almost the worst part,” says Jin, exasperated. There are two poorly-drawn people
standing in stiff poses, surrounded by a mix of machinery and foliage. Jin gets it; it’s supposed to
be juxtaposition, or whatever, but he thinks it’s tacky and obvious. Just like the writing. He should
have known, except Namjoon’s got this one copy of this one fantasy book that he bought just
because the cover was horrible, and they both read it and ended up loving it, so it’s hard to tell.
This book, however, can absolutely be judged by its cover. “You should read it while I’m closing,”
he says. “It’s very bad.”

“Are you saying that because you hate spaceships or because it’s not well-written?”

“Joonie,” he says. “Babe. I love spaceships.”

Namjoon smiles like he’s in love. “Okay,” he says.

Jin suffers through his side work. He sweeps, he cleans the rickety old espresso machine, wincing
when the steam from the hot water gets in his face. He makes sure everything’s organized right,
pulls the stuff that they can’t sell tomorrow, and offers extras to Namjoon. “Sorry,” says Namjoon,
“But if I eat another cream horn I’m going to die.”

“Yeah,” agrees Jin. “I used to think I could eat bread forever. I think I hate bread now.”

Namjoon cackles. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Yeah, well, try living on swiss rolls for three weeks while you wait to get paid and you’ll say a lot
of things.”

Jin locks the door and they start walking up the hill to the trendy street nearby. It’s really hot, but
there’s a little breeze out here, and now that Jin’s moving his body it’s not so bad. He also gets to
wear a flimsy tank top now that he’s not at work. It’s almost refreshing. He almost remembers why
he likes the summer so much.

Still, it’s a huge relief when they get to the book store, and walk in to a blast of conditioned air
that’s almost so cold as to make Jin uncomfortable. He thinks of slinging his t-shirt back on while
they browse, but it doesn’t get that bad. He’s holding Namjoon’s hand and it’s still sweaty between
them. They have to keep switching sides, wiping their hands off on their pants. It’s pretty gross, but
it’s preposterous to think that they wouldn’t be touching right now.

Namjoon’s not capable of walking out of a bookstore without at least three items; that’s something
Jin’s discovered using the scientific method, and today’s no different. He gets a biography of some
seaman, a title that looks so dull that Jin can’t even imagine Namjoon ever reading it, though he
seems really excited at the moment. He also gets a book that he says has gotten good reviews
online a lot lately, and another linguistics book, because he’s been getting really into that stuff. He
also gets Jin a bookmark that has a little tassel with a little bead shaped like a strawberry on it. Jin
tries to grumble, but it’s very cute, and there are worse things to be associated with than sweet,
pretty pink berries that grow well in many conditions. He’s cool with that.

They just had smoothies, nobody’s denying that, but they stop at this diner on the corner for
milkshakes. The food here is really good, and this is the place they went on one of their first actual
dates. Jin really likes it here, it makes him think about the warmth he’d felt all the way from his
toes to his pinked ears when Namjoon insisted on paying for them both.

They don’t get up for a long time, and they end up ordering fries and Namjoon comes around to sit
on the same side of the booth as Jin. They lean on each other a little, picking at this food that
neither of them really want, now that it’s in front of them. Namjoon strokes Jin’s thigh under the
table. They sit there so long that it must be loitering, but if they time it right, they can head back
when the sun starts to set and the walk back to Jin’s place won’t kill them.

“Wait, can you come back to mine?” asks Jin. “Should we call your mom?”

Namjoon makes a disaffirming sound. “Nope, I already asked. We’re good. She wants us at noon
tomorrow.”

“Hell yeah,” says Jin. “I don’t work ’til two.”

They head back as the sky starts to turn pretty colors, and, by chance, walk right down the hill into
the sunset. It’s really, really beautiful out now, one of those summer nights that’s going to be so
nice that the city won’t ever quiet down. It’s a new experience for Jin, having grown up in a thick-
walled house in a suburb, but he finds he likes the hum of people living around him. It doesn’t keep
 him awake, it helps him sleep. He feels like he lives somewhere that has things for him now.

The sunset is so picturesque that they stop at a bus bench for a minute just to watch it. Namjoon
tries to take a picture with his phone, but scoffs at it as soon as he looks. “Makes it look so flat and
small,” he says. Nothing like the way the lavender sky is slashed with pink and orange and in some
parts even green and blue. Now that they’re sitting here, looking at it quietly, there’s not a color Jin
can’t see up there.

It’s just nice, to be here, right now. Jin doesn’t have to think about anything else. Of course he’s
still got things to figure out, but they’re not here, sitting on his chest while he watches the sunset
with Namjoon. They’re somewhere else, somewhere in the future. Right now, he’s got what he
needs, and it feels really good. He’s absolutely sure that he’ll be okay, so right now, he can just sit
and watch the sun go down. He can just be where he’s at, sweating incessantly against his beautiful
boyfriend, belly a little sore from all the milk he’s been drinking because he’s still figuring out the
fine details of feeding himself, tired from a long day at a job he knows he won’t keep for very long,
and feeling really good about all that. He lifts his head up from where it’s resting on Namjoon’s
shoulder and kisses his jaw, so lightly.

Namjoon hums into it, angles his face down and catches Jin’s mouth. When he pulls back, he says,
“What was that for?”

Jin nuzzles his nose into Namjoon’s shoulder. “Everything.”

Chapter End Notes

thanks for reading this everybody. I love you very much.

End Notes

please holler into my twitter

Works inspired by this am

oneI wrong? by jeosheo

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!