Chapter Text
The members of Boyscouts are having a small get-together, team bonding, you could say. Since all of the members are adults, they felt that staying together as roommates in their rookie days was a bit excessive, so they have occasional hangouts instead.
Namjoon’s never been too good at talking to the members, but they never push him, and he really appreciates it. They really are his closest friends, even if they are technically his coworkers.
Jin arrives last for a change, but the box he’s carrying explains it. “Fanmail!” he calls, slamming Suga’s door behind him. There’s more than usual this time, fans wanting to show their love even while Boyscouts is on hiatus.
He distributes all of the letters, and by the time the box is empty, Namjoon’s the only one without an envelope in front of him.
He tries not to let it affect him, and he continues playing video games and laughing at jokes, even if inside he feels kind of like a failure. Jin, though, he notices, just like he always does.
“Namjoon, how about you just ask the fans to send you fanmail? They would send it to you, no questions asked.”
Jin makes sense, really, but Namjoon doesn’t want fanmail because his fans feel obligated; he doesn’t want to ask for what everyone else gets without trying. Still, he nods, and the moment ends when Jimin says they are playing Mario Kart next, Jin snapping his head up immediately at the mention of his favorite game.
***
Boyscouts’ fanbase has steadily grown since they took polaroids, mainly because Taehyung’s post blew up (negatively). The boom of new stans means that they finally have things that most other groups have, including fan translations on vlogs and live translators on Twitter.
***
Weverse Notification: 🔴 Rapmon started their LIVE
***
Boyscouts Translations @boyscoutstrans 10 mins ago
Live translations of Rapmon’s first solo live!
🐨: Hi guys, ugh, this is awkward
🐨: As most of you know, I'm not the best talker
🐨: But I wanted to come on here and talk to you about our album that's coming out soon, and what it means to the members and me
🐨: We put a lot of work into this
🐨: Suga and I produced about the same amount on this album, so I'm going to have more lines than usual. I'm quite nervous, to be honest
🐨: The choreography is a bit more intense, too, and Jimin and Suga helped with making and teaching the dance
🐨: This album will really focus on showcasing everyone’s abilities, and I don’t want to say much more, but just know that we’re really proud of this
🐨: I should probably read comments, right? I don't really know how to do this (T/N his nervous laugh is so cute 😂)
🐨: “Have you eaten?” Yes, the members and I hung out today to eat and play video games, haha
🐨: “When is Boyscouts’ next performance?” We have a performance in 2 weeks, once the theater is fixed up
🐨: “When will the album come out?” Next month, it’ll be released alongside the title track music video!
(T/N Lol what’d he just do that was a loud ass noise)
🐨: Shi- shoot! I just dropped my fucking Nintendo Switch!
***
Namjoon’s live garnered quite a lot of attention, more than he would ever think. For once in his life, he wasn’t made fun of for being awkward and nervous and clumsy– it was actually quite the contrary. People made posts calling him cute, and he gained a new nickname: BFG. He wouldn’t say he likes the name, per se, but he guesses it’s better than his high school bullies calling him Chewy (short for Chewbacca, of course). His dream of fanmail has been fulfilled, but not in the way he wanted. Envelopes are sent to the company addressed to BFG or Koala, and no one online seems to refer to him as who he is, Namjoon. It’s bittersweet, in a way, and in some ways he wishes he just stayed obscure, only a bias to one crazy fan.
He throws his phone down in frustration, sick of Twitter posts about himself. Pulling his coat on, he goes outside for some fresh air and, he was hoping, a cigarette, but based on the awed looks he gets once he’s on the main road, he can see that’s not happening.
He roams the town, going where his heart takes him, and he ends up in a cafe, drawn in by the sweet scent of coffee beans and pastries. When he opens the door, the one person he would never expect is there to greet him.
“How many peo–” Jungkook, dressed in an apron and normal people clothes, covers his eyes with his hands as he gasps.
“Hi, Jungkook,” Namjoon timidly greets, attempting to look at Jungkook’s face through his fingers.
“I don’t deserve to talk to you; I don’t deserve to even look at you! I haven’t paid! I’m going to get my coworker.”
As if on instinct, Namjoon grabs hold of Jungkook’s arm before the younger can leave, and drops it just as fast. He’s flustered, and any semblance of confidence he had is gone when he borderline whispers, “You’re already here. How about you seat me?”
Jungkook nods, and his breathing is heavy as he leads Namjoon to a seat before rambling off that someone will be by shortly to take his order. A girl with a slightly annoyed expression and a name tag reading Yeongi stops at his table with a notepad in hand.
“Hey, aren’t you that one guy from that one group Jungkook likes? Actually, never mind, I don’t care. What would you like to order?”
He lists off his order of a simple coffee and pastry. When she picks up his menu, he asks, “Where’s Jungkook?”
“Crying in the breakroom. Your order will be here soon.” And she walks off.
He can vaguely hear what sounds like, “Jungkook, I’m not doing your job again! If you don’t put this fucking apron on, I’m going to make you wish you were dead!” or he might be hallucinating it, but nonetheless, the person who comes out with his order is Jungkook. His face is red, flushed from the tears running down his cheeks.
“H-here is your f-food and drink,” he says through full-on sobs.
“Don’t cry,” Namjoon tries to comfort him, even though he’s kind of confused by the whole situation. “Why are you crying? You talk to me like every week.”
“Because I’m in my ugly work uniform and I look like shit!” Jungkook cries.
“You still look very beautiful.”
Jungkook sobs louder.
***
Slowly, Jungkook collects himself and goes off to do his job of seating and ordering, but the pair of eyes on his back is impossible to ignore. This is his actual nightmare, a personal hell that he could never conjure up himself. He’s just a lowly fan; he’s not meant to see Namjoon outside the controlled environment of an underground theatre where he gets 40 seconds before he’s pushed aside.
He goes back to Namjoon’s table, not before crouching down behind the counter and practicing deep breathing exercises, to give him the check.
“A-are you ready to pay?”
Namjoon gives him a nod, and in an awkward attempt to make conversation, asks, “I saw on your livestream that you work at a bakery. Do you have multiple jobs?”
That’s all it takes for Jungkook to tear up again, blubbering, “You saw my livestream where I played League of Legends like a nerd and looked gross from pulling an all-nighter in between my shifts?”
“Sorry– I just, I saw on your Twitter that you were going to stream and I–”
“You look at my Twitter?” Jungkook yells.
“Jungkook, if you don’t shut up and do your job, I’ll drag you out myself!” Namjoon hears a voice that sounds suspiciously like Yeongi call from the kitchen.
Jungkook clears his throat, “Um, It’ll be 12.49.”
Namjoon hands him a $20, mumbling, “Keep the change,” and rushing out of the cafe.