Chapter Text
Rouge cheeks and long legs - that's all that Namjoon is made of now. He can only think of the man from the train station, eyes dark and hooded - handsome yet so daring - and as his mind ponders the thought of such a beautiful human being, he looks around the city, eyes catching landmarks he'd memorized the first day here. Absent-mindedly, Namjoon wonders if the man lived in the same part of Seoul as he did; if he had walked the same streets that Namjoon did, and memorized the same landmarks. Smiling, Namjoon continues onto work after eyeing the coffeè shop he visited every morning wistfully. The coffee there could make any critic happy, and that was one of the main reasons why Namjoon went everyday. Unfortunately, he couldn't go today considering that the bustling streets of life were waiting to be explored using music; so he just settled for the coffee at work.
Wind rustles his hair as he nears his building, and without much thought, Namjoon flashes his badge at the front desk and strides toward the empty elevator, waiting to take him to his studio where he would literally work all day. Once in his studio, he throws his coat down and takes a seat in his leather rolling chair, and gets to work. Tracks play over and over, as Namjoon listens quietly, soaking up all the things the track would need to be what he wanted it to be.
Day turns to night, and energy turns to slumped shoulders. Namjoon sits slumped over his desk, his eyes blinking slowly as the typing of his keyboard slowly begin to halt. Namjoon yawns, blinking blearily as his eyes fall upon the flashing 3:05 AM cloaked in red. He allows a soft, tired sigh to flow from his lips before slumping against his desk once more. Something falls from somewhere on Namjoon's desk, and by the sound of the blunt thump of the fallen object against the carpeted floors, it's probably nothing to worry too much about. Still, he lets out a uncommital grunt, before beginning the treacherous search for the offending object. Many bumps and bruises later, Namjoon re surges with his now buzzing phone in hand. Ignoring the beeping and buzzing, he returns to his work, only to find that the inspiration he so desperately needed was somehow missing. He lets out a sound of frustration. The project he was working on wasn't an easy one, and he couldn't do it without a vision, some kind of hope on the horizon for an amazing song, and a few hours of sleep. With a nervous eneregy some had always said he possesed, Namjoon grabbed his keys and phone and turned to leave.
The late night air - cool and breezy - swirls around his already freezing fingertips and stains them with the potential kiss of frostbite, something he was quiet familiar with. Namjoon had always been naturally cold-natured, to the point where anything below 75 degrees could leave him shivering. However he had a deep passion for the cooler seasons - such as winter or fall. As he walks, the smells of fall and grilled meat greet him and his stomach howls in response. He grimaces at the misshapen sound, and continues walking past the stray meat grill that was appealing to his stomach, but not his wallet. His long legs drag him towards the convenience store, the only thing he could afford for right now, considering he didn't keep money on him all the time.
The bell chimes, and Namjoon sets off to find some chili-flavoured ramen to quiet his obscenely loud stomach. His boots squeak against the tiled floors as he grabs his ramen and goes to pay.
Oblivious to the wet spot which was dangerously close to him, he slips, propelling forward into someone who Namjoon hadn't noticed coming his way. They both fall to the ground, and in an attempt to spare the stranger, Namjoon flips the person above him. Namjoon's back collides with the floor and the person on his lap lets out a soft grunt, still confused and shaken from the fall. Eyes that were previously closed, open, and Namjoon is suddenly staring into the subway stranger's eyes. His cheeks begin to warm, and he gulps, before parting his lips to try and speak. He only ends up stuttering quietly, and the stranger stares at him. When he finally gets the courage to look back at the man, he's met with a raised eyebrow.
"You know, I wasn't gonna say anything, but your hands are on my hips." The man comments quietly. He slips from Namjoon's grip, and stands. "You might wanna get up, by the way. The floor is wet." He articulates.
Namjoon flushes and with shaking hands stands slowly. "Thanks." He mumbles lowly, as the man smiles bemusedly.
The man lets a chortle fall from his mouth as he turns to leave. "It's no problem. Just be more careful, yeah?" He says, his combat boots squelching as he walks across the dirty gas station tiles to the door where he exited and continued out into the cool night.
Namjoon's lips lift sheepishly as his cheeks warmed. With a slight delay, he placed his hand on his chest, where his heart thumps against his chest as if his rib cage itself couldn't contain it, and with no further adieu, he carries himself closer to the cash register - where he paid for his ramen and been complimented for his "darling boyfriend," which in turn made his cheeks flame in silent embarrassment.
The bell chimes as he leaves, and the sound reverberates in his mind for the majority of his walk back to his studio. That is, until the door of a home next to the road he's walking on, opens and the man from the subway stumbles out. He begins to pant, and coughs raggedly after breathing just a bit too hard. Namjoon pauses, feet firmly planted on the discolored pavement as he watches silently. When the man stops coughing, and sinks to the ground weakly, he clears his throat.
"I would ask if you were alright, but with how you look, I think it's quite obvious you aren't." Namjoon comments, his eyes analyzing the man's slightly crumpled form.
The man's head lifts, and for a second he sees a sneer settle across his face, before it drops and the man opens his mouth to responds back to him.
"No shit, sherlock." He says simply. "Now, was there a reason for you commenting on my appearance, or...?"
Namjoon feels his face heat again, for the millionth time that day and sputtering, responded, " I'm sorry. I never intended to cross a line. I just felt like there was something wrong, like maybe you might need some help ? I don't know, I just," Namjoon shrugged sheepishly. "I felt like I should comment on your appearance because you didn't seem okay, and maybe if I said something, I could find out a way to help you."
Namjoon's eyes stare back into the man's for a total of two seconds, before he turns his head away from him. He rubs his neck slowly, and then his hand settles over his nose and mouth slightly, before he turned back to the man, who was sitting in the exact same spot he was a few seconds ago, except now his hand was lightly covering his side.
"I just wanted to say, that if you need help, somewhere to stay or anything of that matter... you can stay with me. I mean, you don't have to! I just thought it would be the right thing to do, to help someone out, I guess." He proposes, before he locks eyes with the man, who was staring at him with a look that Namjoon couldn't quite decipher.
From an outside view, however, it looked a lot like gratitude.
Namjoon raises his hand to his neck, rubbing it once again, as he shifted in place. He was aware that he sounded like a creep, someone who couldn't be trusted, but he also knew that no one should come stumbling out of their home like that unless they were injured, and Namjoon didn't see fire, nor some kind of killer, and the man didn't seem like he was fighting for his life over an illness.
Something obviously must be wrong for him to come stumbling out of his house, coughing, and holding one side as if he'd been beaten.
His eyes raise above the man on the ground, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees a silhouette from inside the home the man had just stumbled out of. The silhouette is hidden in the darkness inside the home, but the moon shining on the window he stood behind was enough to slightly illuminate the figure's upper body and eyes. The figure looked to be of a man whose physique was slightly more built than Namjoon himself, but just as young if not younger than him. His eyes were focused on the man's crumbled form, almost as if he dared him to get up and come back inside. But then he shifted his eyes to Namjoon, and they made eye contact. The look in his eyes reflected nothing. Just emptiness, and a nonchalance that made Namjoon shiver.
He looks back towards the form on the ground in front of him, and realizes that he just witness this staring match between the man in the window, and Namjoon himself.
Namjoon stares at him, and the man stares back.
"I don't know who that is, and I don't need to, " Namjoon speaks, quietly but filled with a sort of urgency, if not desperation help the latter. "But my offer still stands, if you'd like to come along with me."
The man stares at him, eyes dark, like they always seem to be, and nods. He stands, striding over to Namjoon on short legs, left arm wrapped around his front.
"I'm Yoongi."