Archive of Our Own

Another tired day. Another Sunday that hung heavy on Seokjin's shoulders like a weighted trench coat--hot and unwelcoming. Seokjin wanted nothing more but sleep to welcome him once more; maybe this time he could sleep his anxiety away. Maybe this time he'd sleep until Christmas break.

Despite his physical and mental complaints, he pushed himself up, toes coming in contact with the cool, tiled floor. He shivered, taking a mental note to put a rug next to the bed, before getting to his feet, tugging his cream bedspread with him. It hung over his body like a cape--draping behind him elegantly and sweeping across the icy floor. That wasn't such a good idea. When was the last time Seokjin cleaned these floors?

His eyes fell to his toes. He'd do it next week.

As he crossed the apartment to his kitchen, he lifted the blanket up, bunching it at his elbows so his hands were accessible. He made grabby hands for the cupboard, the cupboard which concealed cereal, hiding it away from Seokjin and the cold world. His fist unclenched just before it reached the handle, and he grasped the metal, giving it a rough tug, as the cupboard didn't budge easily. It got stuck all the time.

It popped wide, displaying Seokjin's favorite cereal, a box with colorful swirls decorating every corner. On his way to the small two person table sat outside of the kitchen, he fished the milk from the fridge along with a spoon and bowl from a drawer and a cupboard. Soon enough, though, he was sat--eating his first bite of cereal of the day. It tasted like Sunday.

Sunday.

The bittersweet tears of Saturday and the oncoming gloom of Monday. The taste of dulled sweetness and the taste of yesterday's doubts. And yet, it tasted like artificial happiness. Yes. This was definitely Seokjin's favorite cereal.

-----

At 3:27 that afternoon, Seokjin abandoned his apartment. He collected his keys, phone, wallet, and stuffed them into his black coat's pocket, along with his gloved hands. He left the apartment with a frown etched into his features.

He couldn't remind the last time he had grinned genuinely. Possibly it was the last time he saw his mother. He missed her, horribly. Sickeningly. Along with his brother and his father, in fact--he wanted nothing more than to go home and see them, even for a minute. Although, his brother was off studying as well--so he'd have to wait until Christmas came, and everyone was granted a break.

Seokjin stepped into the quiet elevator, and as the doors shut, eyed himself in the reflective surface. Usually, his skin was bright, soft, perky; but today, he had bags under his eyes and hollowed cheeks. He glanced away from himself.

The bus ride to the library was cold. It was all cold. Outside was cold, the metal of the handlebars were cold, the plastic of the seats were cold. Seokjin shut his eyes and ignored it, his body swaying the way that the bus wished him to.

-----

Seokjin got off at the stop nearest to the library, and walked the extra few meters to the entrance. His hands had stuffed themselves farther into the warmth of his pockets, begging for a sense of relief from the biting temperature.

Eventually, he stepped inside, and immediately warmed up.

The library was wide. Filled with books of all different genres, teen to horror, cooking to English.

English. Seokjin's eyes fluttered over to the English section.

Library Boy (Seokjin needed to get him a new nickname, and quick) was already there, long fingers sliding delicately across the spines of the books. Jin could only imagine what his fingertips felt like against his own spine.

He shivered and turned, pattering off to find himself a book to busy himself with (or, moreover, a book to make it look like he wasn't checking out Library Boy).

-----

Weeks passed, and it was a rainy Tuesday. Seokjin had made it into the library with his black jacket soaked, but it protected his hair and outfit from the downpour, so it was worth the sacrifice.

Seokjin couldn't find Purple (Library Boy had recently dyed his hair and Seokjin was lost over it) upon entrance, so he made his way to one of the cushioned chairs that faced the wall--the window wall. The library had an entire wall made purely out of glass, with a few plush chairs and sofas facing outward to watch the streets. Seokjin had grasped a book on the way in, one he'd seen Purple reading (The Time Traveler's Wife, it was called) and now had it opened to Page One, sighing softly.

-----

"That's my book."

Seokjin practically jumped out of his skin at the sudden accusation. He had been so sucked into the story that he didn't see or hear a boy approach him. He glanced up to sputter out apologies, but his eyes met Purple's, and his throat went dry.

They stared at each other for a few beats too long, and then the boy was giggling breathlessly. "I'm jus' messing with you," he bowed his head with a shy smile. "I'm sorry." Formal.

"Don't be," Seokjin spoke all too quickly, his voice clamoring to come back and then sounding all too nervous and weak. Purple met his eyes again, and he went to jello. "I-I... I actually only picked it up since I saw you reading it."

Fuck. Why did he admit that?!

Purple laughed, a bright sound, but it sounded hushed and muted, since they were still in a library, after all. His white framed glasses hung low on his soft nose, giving Seokjin perfect view of his hazelnut eyes.

"Hmm," Purple pondered silently, and Seokjin had to fight with himself to not stare at the boy's lips as he spoke. It wasn't his fault. They appeared so soft and plush-- "Maybe I can recommend some more, then? I read a lot, actually." He giggled to himself, and Seokjin noticed the blush on his cheeks. If this boy couldn't get any cuter.

"Please do," Seokjin smiled. An excuse to see Purple again was revolutionary. "Oh-- and, I'm," he placed the book in his lap and extended a hand, "I'm Kim Seokjin."

"Kim Namjoon."

-----

Seokjin follows him around the library that day. He tags close behind Namjoon as he gushes about old books and new ones--ones that have their spines cracked so many times they're falling apart and ones that have only been breathed in by Namjoon. The purple haired boy looks happy and content, describing his favorite books to Seokjin, a stranger. Seokjin listens intently, though, nodding along and giving his own opinions every once and a while. Like when they reached sci-fi, and Seokjin admitted, "I love sci-fi, but I just can't get hooked on a good one."

Namjoon finds him a good one, and places it in his palms. The cover was a crisp black, and read 'Dune'. The binding was a bit messy, and there were crinkles on the cover. "I've read this one a few times," Namjoon admits softly.

Namjoon stands beside Seokjin as he checks his books out, and he eyed up Namjoon's height. They were about the same, maybe Namjoon had a few millimeters on him--which was odd. And definitely a new thing Seokjin could get used to.

He quickly flickered his attention to the lady scanning his books, handing her a library card he'd only used twice. It wasn't long until he was handed a bag with his books, given a date to return them all, and him and Namjoon were heading towards to the doors.

"Hey, I, uh--" Purple muddled through his words as they stood, Seokjn's right hand weighing him down. But whatever was about to spill from Namjoon's lips seemed important, judging by his eyes. Seokjin waited carefully and patiently.

Namjoon pursed his lips and then smiled, his cheeks dimpling off. Seokjin was so distracted by his cheeks, he almost didn't catch his next words.

"Do you want to get dinner sometime?"

Seokjin blinked, once, twice--and then he realized this was real, Namjoon, his schoolgirl crush, was asking him to dinner. As friends? As something more? Was it a date? Whatever it was, Seokjin quickly nodded and agreed.

-----

They ended up exchanging numbers and then Seokjin was gone from the library, arm almost numb from the weight of the books; heart almost numb from Namjoon.

Seokjin texted him when he arrived home, laying on his sofa, his charizard plush tucked into his arm.

They messaged back and forth until 1am.

-----

They went out to dinner that Saturday, at a Korean BBQ place Namjoon loved. They discussed themselves and their interests--Seokjin found that Namjoon was fluent in English and he even displayed his bilingual abilities to Seokjin. He also learned that Purple attended his same college, and now that Seokjin considers it, he's probably seen him in the halls before. Namjoon also explained to him that he was a writer (an unpublished one, but). He went on to admit that his first book was gunna be sci-fi, but that's as much of a spoiler as he'd give.

Namjoon offered walking him home, and they talked silently on the way to Seokjin's apartment. They took the bus and got out at his stop, and when they approached his building, Namjoon went, "No way."

Seokjin threw a confused glance over his shoulder before directing his attention to the complex door, unlocking it. "What is it?" he asked, twisting the knob and opening the door. He leant in the doorway as Namjoon watched him incredulously.

"I live here too," Purple said, and Seokjin blinked. "3B. And you--"

"4B," Seokjin cackled. Namjoon laughed alongside him as they headed inside and into the elevator. Namjoon stayed true to his promise and went up the fourth floor with Seokjin, walking him to his apartment door.

Seokjin unlocked his door and when Namjoon went to ask for entrance, Seokjin shook his head, smiling playfully.

"I don't let guys in on the first date," he grinned, and Namjoon reflected the same smile right back.

"What do you let guys do on the first date, then?" Purple pondered, hand flattening out on the doorframe. Seokjin tried his best to keep his calm.

"Nothing," he smirked, and then laughed happily, his nose crinkling up, at Namjoon's upset reaction. "But... Hm. You can have an exception, I suppose."

Namjoon smiled that big dimply grin, and Seokjin thought for a good few seconds--before poking his own right cheek.

"You can kiss me."

He sounded like a preschooler who just got himself a boyfriend for the first time. He was surprised he wasn't asking Namjoon to hold his hand and then immediately bursting into a fit of giggles.

Namjoon did so, though. He pressed those plush lips against the exact spot on Seokjin's cheek that his index finger had poked.

"Text me," he mumbled against his cheek, brushed his hand against Seokjin's, and then stepped back. A small smirk painted itself on Namjoon's features before he stepped back into the elevator, leaving Seokjin staring after his dust.

He was never going to get over that boy.

-----

"This is bullshit," Seokjin grumbled out to himself, dropping his pen in aggravation on the desk. He was attempting to study biology at the library, but he didn't understand anything about the complicated end of cellular division. He'd rather divide his own head than think about it.

"Need some help?"

Seokjin jumped, once again, due to the surprising presence of Namjoon, all beaming and smiles beside him. Seokjin couldn't help but reflect back up at him, and responded, "Are you any good at biology?"

Namjoon shrugged before pulling over a chair, and Seokjin moved his chair slightly over to make some room for the newcomer. Purple surveyed the paper and bit his lip, rereading once, twice, and then shaking his head. "Yeah, uhm. I'm not taking any science courses. They required one my first year--but I took chemistry. I haven't done this since grade school."

Seokjin's shoulders fell, and an irritated huff left his lips. "I don't understand it," he whined to Purple, his voice subtle and quiet, but the emotion was strong and loud. "This is stupid."

A laugh bubbled from Namjoon's lips, and Seokjin's mouth quirked up at the corner because of it. "Would a second date take your mind off of things?"

"Namjoon! It's only been a week."

He hit the younger's arm teasingly, and Namjoon whined, almost a direct imitation of Seokjin, "That's a stupid rule, I just wanna take you out~."

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you out?" Seokjin raised an eyebrow, and Namjoon's whiney attitude dropped. "I mean, from what I remember, you said you were born in '94."

"Age doesn't matter, Seokjin-hyung," Namjoon smiled, stretching out the 'hyung'. "What matters is if I wanna take you out or not. And I do. We can go to the park?"

Seokjin loved how relentless Namjoon was--if he wasn't getting what he wanted, he'd pursue anyway. He wouldn't stop until he got his way. "Yeah, yeah," he watched him with strong affection in his eyes. He made himself sick. "But it's been raining a lot. So maybe you can come over and I'll cook for you."

An interested look graced Namjoon's features, and he prompted, "Are you any good?"

"Oh, just wait until you try my kalguksu, you'll be begging me to stay and cook for you forever," Seokjin smirked, his chin tilting up. Namjoon was intrigued, especially since the older boy was going to be preparing his favorite food without realizing.

-----

Namjoon arrived at Seokjin's door just a few minutes before the food was finally done. He had just been waiting for the noodles to finish off--he was gathering their bowls and plates for kimchi as a side--when Namjoon's knuckles rapped loudly against the door. Seokjin made his way over, opening it and smiling at him, before teasing, "You know, I usually don't let guys into my home on the second date, either."

The younger boy laughed, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks. Seokjin's heart jumped at the sight. "Guess I'm breaking all your rules, then."

Seokjin let him inside, and he finished setting the table as Namjoon sat down. The older made his way to the table with a steaming pot in hand, setting it down along with a large pasta spoon to serve with. He came back moments later with zucchini and shredded chicken as well, and then got to serving both himself and Namjoon. His guest sat quietly, observing Seokjin's precise movements, although, he did seem to have a slight difficulty in serving Namjoon. But the younger didn't say anything. Seokjin seemed as if he wanted to serve him--and to tell him he couldn't would upset him.

They'd only talked a few times, and yet, Namjoon could read him easier than any other person Seokjin had ever met.

Seokjin eventually sat and stirred his chopsticks through the noodles, glancing up to watch Namjoon take a bite. He chewed, swallowed, nodded his head slightly, and then went, "It's really good; especially the noodles."

"I made them myself," Seokjin provided with a smile. "My mom taught me how to when I was younger."

Mom. Seokjin frowned and blinked, quickly dipping his head down and losing himself in the swirling of the broth. He missed his mother. Way too much. And he couldn't wait to tell her all about Namjoon... How many more days was it until break?

52.

Of course.

How could he forget? He'd looked at his phone countdown that morning.

"My mom never taught me any cooking," Namjoon admitted just before he took another bite. "I have a younger sister, so she taught her instead."

Seokjin hummed, and responded softly, "I grew up with an older brother. You're lucky."

He looked up and caught the sight of Namjoon's pretty dimples out again.

-----

They ended up watching a movie on Seokjin's sofa, and soon, Seokjin was walking a sleepy Namjoon to the door. Their hands were loosely together, Namjoon holding onto Seokjin's ring and middle finder. Seokjin opened the door and the younger stepped out, not releasing his hand just yet. He turned to say his final goodbyes, but Seokjin beat him to the punch. "I'm sorry I'm kicking you out like this."

Namjoon tiredly chuckled, a deep slur of soft laughter. "It's fine, don't worry about it. 'S not like I live very far away. Only a floor," the younger smiled at him, and Seokjin sighed before allowing a small grin to grace his face.

"Get out of here," he released his hand and lightly shoved his chest, to which Namjoon gasped at.

"I don't get another kiss tonight?"

Seokjin considered this, before sighing in defeat and poking his own cheek again, this time, although, it was closer to his lips.

Namjoon's smile spread across his cheeks before he leant forward, kissing the spot exactly. His kiss lingered slightly, and then he mumbled, "Call me."

Then he was off, heading towards the elevators. His purple hair was a messy nest atop his hair, and Seokjin had to stifle a giggle. He watched as Namjoon got onto the elevator before he retreated back into his apartment, closing and locking the door, leaning against it with an indescribable feeling buzzing down to his fingertips and toes.

-----

A little over a week later, Seokjin was having breakfast with a friend of his at a cafe in town. It was Saturday, a quiet one without any worries of studies. All that worried him was the anxiety of Sunday--which meant the anxiety of another week of school. But Seokjin would survive. He always did.

Somehow.

"So tell me about that guy."

Ah. That's how.

Seokjin had told Yoongi about Namjoon a long while back, when he'd first caught an affection for the boy. "There's this cute guy that goes to the library," he previously told him over the phone, laying in bed, like a 15 year old out of a British "coming of age" comedy. Yoongi laughed, asking what he looked like, and if Seokjin was going to ask him out. The older boy explained that he was tall with brown hair (which Namjoon had at the time), and that no, he would probably admire him from afar.

"You always do that," Yoongi had grumbled. "How are you going to find anyone if you just sit back and wait?"

"That's how you got Jimin!"

"Completely off topic. So irrelevant. Very different."

Now, Yoongi sat ahead of him, lifting his cup of tea to his lips, eyes expectant. "I don't know," Seokjin sighed. His eyes fell down to his rice and eggs, and his chopsticks began to pick at his kimchi. "He's cute, he's got these dimples that are so deep. He lives in the same apartment complex as me, and goes to college. He's writing a book. He's caring, he likes my cooking. I don't know. I really like him, though."

"Already?" Yoongi spoke, and when Seokjin raised his head, the boy's eyebrows were together in thick confusion. "You guys just started talking a few weeks back."

"But he's so funny, and I already had such a big crush on him, so it's a lot faster," Seokjin tried reasoning, but his excuses sounded lame. Why was he already liking Namjoon? It was so soon.

Yoongi sighed and ate some of his kimchi, and then went, "I just don't want what happened last time to happen again. I worry too much about you."

-----

Namjoon and Seokjin went on a few more dates, but nothing too exciting to note. They went to Namjoon's apartment, the park (finally), and out to eat a few times. It was normal, and they were happy with each other.

Seokjin didn't consider them boyfriends yet. He'd wait until Namjoon asked, until then, they were dating, and that was all.

It was a Friday night, and Yoongi had visited, planning on spending the night. They were in the living room, eating ramen in sweatpants and t-shirts, feet propped up on the coffee table as some thriller played on the TV. Of course, Yoongi had chosen the movie, some thing that Seokjin didn't even know the name of. All he knew was that it was full of "hot" girls, explosions, and plenty of fighting.

A knock at the door startled the two of them, and they glanced at the entrance, then each other. Another knock sounded, and they Yoongi shrugged. "Go answer it, it might be the tenant." Seokjin nodded and stood as Yoongi paused the movie, watching as his hyung headed to the door.

Seokjin opened it to a smiling Namjoon, who spoke before Seokjin had time to part his lips. "I'm sorry I didn't text first, but--"

"Who is that?"

Yoongi came up behind Seokjin, all tired eyes and messy hair and bitten lips. Namjoon froze up at the sight of the shorter boy, unsure who he was. A boyfriend? A crush? A friend? A brother? Jin had said that he had a brother, but they didn't look--

"This is Namjoon," Seokjin said, and looked from Yoongi to the taller boy, "And the gremlin is Yoongi." The shortest boy grumbled behind him, and mumbled something under his breath. He went to speak, but Seokjin spoke, "Can you give us a minute?"

He didn't wait for a response, just stepped out into the hall with Namjoon, closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry I interrupted--" Purple quickly sputtered, and Seokjin shook his head.

"It's fine, what's up?"

Namjoon smiled softly, his hands clasping behind his back timidly. "Uh, well. I wanted to ask you something, but if you're busy--"

"No, no," Seokjin shook his head, and reached forward, his hand grasping Namjoon's elbow, and sliding down until the younger unclasped his hands and held Seokjin's. "I'm never too busy for you."

He almost threw up at that line. He was so sweet and sappy, he made himself sick.

Namjoon picked his head up and his smile grew, cheeks darkening to the shade of roses. "Ah," he laughed, looking around them. "This isn't exactly how I imagined asking you-- I--"

He cut himself off with a huff of laughter, shaking his head and looking back to their feet. Seokjin only had his slippers on, and he wore his own pair of Nike sneakers. When he glanced back up to meet Seokjin's dark eyes, his breath halted, admiring his slim, carved out beauty. The beauty that caught Namjoon's attention in the beginning. Smooth, creamy skin and gently cut out cheekbones and a defined jaw. Plush lips with an expansive bottom lip that Namjoon just wanted to slide his tongue over. Soft eyelashes coating dark chocolate irises. Seokjin was the definition of beauty.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" he breathed, the hand that held Seokjin's shaking.

The older boy blinked at him, and then froze up. Oh god. Namjoon had asked too soon, hadn't he? Maybe Seokjin wanted to ask, since he was older. But Namjoon knew him--he knew he hated asking first. That was why Namjoon always asked for dates, and never Seokjin. So Namjoon wasn't expecting him to want to ask first--was Seokjin still silent? Was he going to respond at all? Should Namjoon say something?

"Seok--"

"I'd really love to," Seokjin breathed, cutting off Namjoon, and the younger looked to him with widened eyes. "I'd love to be your boyfriend."

"Yeah?" Namjoon said. His smile grew slowly, but eventually was huge, plastered across his features, like a neon yellow road sign.

"Yeah."

They both fell silent, and normally, the few beats of quiet would be found as awkward, but they were both comfortable, staring into each other. But it wasn't long until Namjoon went, "I'll let you go back to your friend, then."

Seokjin chuckled, and responded smoothly, "Wouldn't say he's much of a friend. More of an ass, really." Namjoon snorted, and on the other side of the door, a scoff sounded, along with a muttered retaliation. Seokjin threw a glare back at the peephole. "Are you listening to us?"

"Just need to make sure he's not gunna kidnap you."

"My point has been proven," Seokjin sighed, over exaggerated and sounding horribly distressed. Yoongi grumbled on the other side before opening the door, quickly going,

"Something came up. I need to take him off your hands."

He then grasped Seokjin's shirt and tugged him back into the apartment, and Seokjin managed to blow Namjoon a kiss just before the door was shut by a puffy Yoongi.

Seokjin smiled giddily and turned, heading to the couch and laying across it, a long, happy sigh leaving his lips, and he shut his eyes. "I have a boyfriend, Yoon!"

"Congrats."

"He's tall and handsome and pretty and funny and he reads a lot and he likes to write and he loves--" Seokjin began to gush, and before he got too far, Yoongi cut him off.

"You need to take a breath, man," he went, and sat on the couch, at Seokjin's feet. He just lifted his toes up and draped his legs across Yoongi's lap easily. "Don't you think you're falling for him too fast? I mean... I just--"

"There won't be a repeat of last time," Seokjin promised quietly, suddenly serious and soft. "Namjoon is different than him. He's nice, and he's delicate, and he treats me better."

Yoongi sighed, casting a look at Seokjin, who still had his eyes shut, and his shirt riding up on his stomach. His sweatpants hung low, showing his hip bones that prodded his skin from the inside. "I care too much about you to see you get hurt again," Yoongi said just above a murmur, "If the signs are there, you get out of there as fast as you can. You don't stay because you think he loves you. You know you can stay with Jimin and I if you have to. And--"

"Yoonie!" Seokjin laughed, sitting up, his eyes open and now staring directly into Yoongi's wide, worried ones. "I'll be fine. I know. Just trust me and be happy for me."

Yoongi sighed and nodded, and then smiled softly, "I'm happy for you, Seokjin-hyung."

-----

The week after, on Saturday, Seokjin went downstairs to Namjoon's at 7am, in his pajamas and slippers, and knocked at the door, loud enough to wake the surely sleeping Namjoon up. After a few minutes, the door was being opened, and an exhausted, messy Namjoon stood in his sights. His purple hair was sticking up in every direction and he was shirtless, with only black joggers hanging low on his waist.

Fuck. He was practically ripped.

"Seokjin?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I'm making you breakfast," Seokjin beamed, all too awake for the time. Namjoon didn't question him, though, and gave him entrance, and Seokjin kicked off his shoes at the door. As Namjoon closed the door and relocked it, he took note to the box Seokjin had in his grasp, and furrowed his eyebrows, following the boy into the kitchen.

"What is that?" Namjoon spoke, his voice slow and husky, watching Seokjin through his lashes. Seokjin twisted and watched him in confusion, but then realized Namjoon was eyeing the box in his hand.

The older boy grinned, and told him, "You'll find out. Where are your pans?"

-----

Namjoon sat on the counter as Seokjin began, first mixing the powder from the box with egg, milk, and butter, until it got to a thick consistency. His eyes followed Seokjin as he moved easily around the kitchen, as if it was his own, and Namjoon mumbled, "What does your friend think of me?"

Seokjin was taken by surprise at the question, and didn't break his eye contact with what he was doing. "Ah. Uhm," he managed out. Should he tell the truth? The truth would require a long explanation, though. But Seokjin couldn't lie. Namjoon'd find out eventually. "He doesn't like you too much, but it's not because of you. It's because of the last guy I dated."

Namjoon looked at him in confusion, and noticed Seokjin's hands start to shake at the confession. "Hey," he mumbled, and reached over, grabbing one of Seokjin's hands, gently. Seokjin raised his head and looked at him, his eyes wide, vulnerable. "I... I don't know what happened. And I'm not forcing you to tell me if you don't want to. But. But I won't treat you however he did. Yeah? Tell your friend that you'll be safe with me."

Seokjin stared at him incredulously, his hands still wavering, but he stepped over, standing between his thighs, and hugged his waist. Namjoon made a laugh of surprise, but happily hugged the older boy in return, pressing his lips against his forehead. They stood there for a bit, just enjoying each other's warmth and comfort, and Seokjin mumbled, "I'll let him know." Namjoon smiled against his skin.

-----

They ended up having pancakes, which was a change of pace. In South Korea, they normally began their day with a meal that could also be considered lunch or dinner, like rice, kimchi, and meat, but Seokjin honestly preferred Western breakfast over their customs. He'd never visited, himself--but he wished to. Maybe after he graduated.

Namjoon, although, had been to America, and lived for a week there eating Western food--hamburgers, pancakes, waffles, potato everything. So when he realized it was pancakes that Seokjin was making, he was ecstatic. And he bursted into stories as soon as he realized.

They sat on the couch to eat as Namjoon went on about how him and a friend had gone to a club in Los Angeles, and they weren't allowed to drink because they weren't 21 yet, even though they were past the legal age in South Korea. He went into a big, extravagant story about how his friend got in a fight with the bartender and got them both kicked out, and they ended up walking the streets of LA until 2 in the morning. He said it was hilarious and wild, and Seokjin listened in with a smile, wishing he'd been there.

Namjoon's friends sounded so interesting, unlike his own. Sure, Yoongi was a rapper, but all he did was sleep in and eat too much and hang out with his model boyfriend. He never went to the club and barely ever left the house--hell, Seokjin had to practically drag him to that cafe for breakfast. Jimin was the one who forced Yoongi to go in the end, saying he needed to get out more. Yoongi never fought with Jimin, so he went.

Seokjin had other friends, but they never contacted him, never asked to hang out. But he had Namjoon now, and Namjoon was interesting. Namjoon made him go out and have fun. Namjoon made him happy.

-----

That next Saturday, Seokjin was back in Namjoon's kitchen, a little later this time because Namjoon enjoyed his sleep--and Seokjin respected that. It became sort of a tradition, him coming over on Saturdays and making pancakes for them both.

-----

A few weeks later, Seokjin was close to sleep in his bed, the clock reading, "12:13". He tossed and he turned, but his mind wouldn't let him rest; it was a Tuesday night, and Seokjin knew if he didn't fall asleep now, he'd never wake up that next morning. That, or he'd go to classes and fall asleep in his first one.

A knock interrupted his thoughts, and he blinked, considering maybe he imagined it. Who would be on his doorstep at midnight?

Another knock.

He got up begrudgingly and headed out of his bedroom and to the door, opening it to see an equally tired Namjoon. "I couldn't sleep," the boy mumbled before Seokjin even had to ask. "I wanted to know if I could just sleep here for the night--I won't bother you, and I'll be gone in the morning--"

A sigh escaped Seokjin's lips and he tiredly grabbed the younger boy's hand, pulling him into the apartment and effectively cutting him off. He closed the door with his hip, quickly locked it, and then lead them both to his bedroom, sitting on the bed and looking up at Namjoon, who just stared at him. "Cuddle me," Seokjin demanded in a quiet, whiney huff, too tired to beat around the bush. Namjoon smiled softly and Seokjin moved, laying on the other side of the bed as Namjoon got into it with him. The younger pulled the duvet over the both of them before pulling Seokjin into his chest.

Seokjin grasped onto the bottom of Namjoon's shirt and weaved their legs together, wordless. No words were needed. The smell of Namjoon lulled the older boy to sleep effectively.

-----

Namjoon was surely there when Seokjin's alarm went off at 6am.

The younger grumbled at the intruding sound, now laying on his back with Seokjin draped across him. Namjoon grunted, reaching for the side table blindly to grab Seokjin's phone and shut the alarm off. He checked the time as he did so, and made a small huff. "My first class isn't until 9," he mumbled, and furrowed his eyebrows as Seokjin started pushing himself up.

"Mine is at 7," he spoke, voice dripping with exhaustion, sitting up beside Namjoon and rubbing at his eyes. "You can stay here. I'll give you my spare key so you can lock up."

Namjoon hummed and turned on his side, returning securely to his dream world only a few moments later.

-----

He woke back up to his own alarm going off at 8, and grumbled, sitting up and attempting to blink the sleep out of his eyes. He reached over, shut his phone off, and then observed the room, eyes moving over the knick-knacks that sat warmly upon shelfs and plants that stood healthily in corners. His pupils then shifted to the bedside table, and he grasped his phone, the key next to it, and a delicately etched out note that read, "Lock up or I'm breaking up with you." accompanied by many hearts.

Petty and romantic.

Namjoon stood, grabbing the key and his phone before heading out of the bedroom, planning to go back down to his apartment before he left to classes. Once he left the room, though, a smell hit his nose, the smell of homemade kimchi and eggs. He made his way to the kitchen, intrigued, and there, a plate was made of kimchi, egg, and noodles. Namjoon smiled at the sight, grabbing the chopsticks that laid beside the plate.

Seokjin was like a mother, always looking after Namjoon and caring for him like this.

Namjoon needed to repay him somehow.

-----

The next week, Seokjin was the one appearing on Namjoon's doorstep, unannounced, at 9 at night.

Purple opened the door, with a soft smile on his face, eyes gentle and warm, and he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I was bored," Seokjin sighed, and earned himself a laugh. Namjoon didn't respond, just grabbed his hand and took him inside. He had ordered in earlier, so they shared a meal of japchae, rice, and oi-sobagi at Namjoon's coffee table, a movie playing quietly in front of them. It was gentle and comfortable, and eventually, Namjoon took the trash away and threw it out, placing the leftovers in the fridge before returning to Seokjin.

The tired boy had found a blanket and wrapped it around himself, legs tucked underneath his body in an attempt to keep his toes warm. Namjoon sighed, crossing the room to him, and saying silently, "Scoot over." Seokjin glanced to him before doing so, and opening his arm to give Namjoon space to join him under the blanket. The younger did so, sitting beside Seokjin with his legs crossed, pulling the comforter over his shoulder and tucking himself close to the other. Seokjin draped his legs over Namjoon's lap, tucking his nose into his neck and delving into his warmth and attractive scent. What was that, anyway? It was no cologne Seokjin had ever smelt, it wasn't terrifyingly strong and it wasn't too faint. It didn't burn up his nostrils when he took a breath. It was utterly Namjoon.

In turn, Namjoon's hands found themselves to Seokjin's hips, where his shirt had ridden up and his joggers had slacked down. His thumbs pressed themselves into the delicate flesh, against the bone and against the soft parts of his tummy. Seokjin shivered under his touch, a soft giggle leaving his lips, and leaned into him more, thin fingers threading into the material of Namjoon's shirt.

"Are you tired?" Namjoon's voice sounded in his ear, soothing, caring. As if Seokjin was already long asleep and he was scared to awaken him.

"A bit," came his response, a sound just as soft as a breath. He glanced up, meeting Namjoon's dark eyes, which were only inches, if not centimeters, away from his own. His breath caught, and he watched, frozen, as Namjoon stole a glance at his parted lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

Silence.

Seconds ticked by, seconds of frozen time, of Seokjin's brain running fast--a record player screeching and rewinding on how he got here. How he went from the most miserable time of his life to this. To his happiest. How he was presented with a heartless soul and then given the most loving person months later.

Only months ago had Seokjin been sitting in a library, wondering what Library Boy did after he left the building. Wondering where he worked, if he went to school. How old he was. If he was even interested in guys--if this entire crush thing was worthless. And now he knew, he had found all of his answers. Now, Library Boy was holding him, asking to kiss him, and Seokjin's heart was beating in his ears. If he was being realistic, he was probably sweating as well. He couldn't believe this was all real. He couldn't believe Namjoon would want to kiss him, with all the boys and girls in Seoul, and Namjoon's eyes only stayed on Seokjin. How? So many eyes were on Namjoon, no doubt. He could have so many people he wanted. And yet--here he was. Seokjin was sitting practically in his lap, in his living room, in his apartment. He was the one stealing his eyes. He was the one about to steal his lips.

The record played once more, and Seokjin returned to his fairytale reality.

"Yes."

The mumble was short, but it was all Namjoon needed before he leant forward, attaching their lips in mere milliseconds. The kiss was sweet and soft at first, the two testing the waters, practicing, warming up to the feeling. It was chaste, smooth--a kiss straight out of a princess story. But it eventually shifted into faster kisses. Seokjin's hands came up to grasp Namjoon's neck, their lips pulsating against each other. The kiss molded quickly into a feverish one, desperate mouths itching for the taste of each other. They kissed like they were drowning--and the other person had the last bit of oxygen stored in their lungs. They kissed like they were dying.

Halfway through the kiss, Seokjin had straddled Namjoon's thighs, thick and firm beneath him. Everything about Namjoon was perfect, from his body, to his kiss, to his smile. God. Seokjin was so fucking gone.

They had to pull back at some point, or they'd suffocate. They were gasping, panting, Namjoon's hands gripping Seokjin's hips tighter. Their foreheads came together as they desperately caught their breath; eyelashes fluttering. Namjoon pressed a kiss to the corner of Seokjin's lips, and whispered, "I've been waiting so long to do that."

Seokjin laughed breathlessly, his hands sliding from his neck and down to Namjoon's chest, the pads of his fingers pressing into his shirt. "Does this mean I can start calling you oppa?"

Namjoon tossed his head back, shocked laughter bubbling from his lips.

-----

Seokjin went to Yoongi and Jimin's apartment a few blocks away to buzz about Namjoon--he needed to tell someone. He was originally planning to tell Yoongi only, but Jimin overheard the two talking over the phone, and demanded Seokjin visit to share the gossip with him as well.

So here he was, sitting in their living room with a cup of tea in his palms and Jimin and Yoongi sitting to the left of him on a love seat. Romantic.

Jimin was anxiously awaiting the gossip, his eyes as bright as his pink hair. His body tilted forward at an angle, smile awaiting on his lips. Yoongi sat beside him, leant comfortably back into the couch, black hair lazy and messy on his head. He'd already heard Seokjin gush about Namjoon enough. He didn't much care for his best friend's boyfriend--but if Seokjin was excited and happy, he would sit back and listen. He had to respect his decisions. No matter how much he didn't like them.

"Yoongi's probably already told you about how we met--" Seokjin began, but he had barely finished his first sentence before Jimin was speaking.

"Very biased, although," Jimin huffed, sideways glancing at Yoongi. "It was obvious how much he hates your boyfriend."

Seokjin laughed, Jimin shooting a glare at his own boyfriend. Yoongi crossed his arms and went, "Just tell us what happened, Seokjin-hyung."

He told them. He went on and on about everything--about how soft Namjoon's skin was and about how gentle he treated Seokjin. During his story and at the conclusion, Jimin seemed happy and thrilled, pleased one of his friends was falling in love--while Yoongi was growing even more hesitant with their relationship. Once Seokjin had ended on the note of him going home that morning, after making both him and Namjoon breakfast, Jimin piped up, "You two are so cute together; I don't know what Yoonie is on about."

Yoongi tried to fight his smile at the nickname, and said instead, "Hyung is just falling in love too fast. It's only been a few months--I don't want a repeat of last time. You should take things a bit slower."

An impatient, childish huff came from Seokjin, like a teenage daughter talking about her boyfriend to her parents. Ha. Yoongi and Jimin were completely acting like his parents.

"I took things as slow as I could!" Seokjin reasoned. "But I really really like him. And he likes me."

Yoongi just watched him, and then after a few moments, went, hesitantly, "He asked to kiss you, you said?"

"Yes."

He pursed his lips, and gave up, his shoulders falling from their stiff position. "Okay. But if he hurts you, you come right back here. You're staying with us."

"Yes, dad."

-----

Namjoon came over a few days later, letting himself in with the key Seokjin had given him a few weeks back. He relocked the door behind him, crossing into the living room and pocketing the key. A quick glance at the clock told him it was late, 11:34, to be exact, but Namjoon hadn't been able to sleep, so he came here. Seokjin was fine with him spending the night before, although, so now shouldn't be different.

He headed to his bedroom, letting himself in quietly, eyes quickly finding Seokjin--curled up into his duvet. He looked as if he was sleeping already, or close to it, so Namjoon got into bed beside him. He almost immediately heard a grunt of, "Joon?"

He smiled softly, mumbling, "Yeah, it's me, nothing to worry about, oppa."

Seokjin started tiredly giggling from the name, and Namjoon pulled him into his chest just as Seokjin tucked himself into him. The youngest placed a kiss against his forehead, arm secure around his waist. This is it. This is where he belonged.

-----

They woke up the next morning, and Namjoon didn't move as Seokjin pushed himself up and off the bed. His eyes opened only when Seokjin spoke. "Namjoon?" he mumbled, fingertips skimming the boy's forearm. The younger grumbled in return, one eye blinking open and the second followed soon after, until he was fully looking up at Seokjin. The oldest sat on the edge of the bed, phone in his hands.

"What's up?" Namjoon asked with exhaustion dripping from his voice, watching Seokjin analyze his phone, gleaming brightly in his palms.

Seokjin shut his phone off, placing it back on the side table, and moved back into bed with Namjoon. One leg over his waist, an arm draped comfortably across his chest with fingers pressing into his shirt. "Classes got cancelled," Seokjin murmured. "Snow storm."

Sure enough, Namjoon glanced up to the window, and heard (and faintly saw) snow smacking against the glass with soft thuds. He sighed, pulling the duvet higher up around them and shutting his eyes.

He'd never protest to cuddling Seokjin for a few hours more.

-----

Thy both woke up to Namjoon's phone ringing, and he sighed, Seokjin moving off him so he could sit up. He saw the caller ID and rolled his eyes, answering the call and glancing to Seokjin as he said, "What is it?" Seokjin propped himself up on one elbow, staring up at Namjoon with his eyes tired and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you wanna go get lunch?" Jackson asked in his ear, clearly distracted with whatever he was doing. He spoke in English--Namjoon knew he liked to do that just to change things up.

Namjoon glanced down at Seokjin, and laid his hand face up on his own thigh. The older boy got the picture and beamed, threading his fingers with Namjoon's. "The roads are bad," Namjoon said to his hyung in English, and watched as Seokjin's beaming face fell to one of confusion at the sudden change in languages. He had no idea what was falling from Namjoon's lips.

"I know," Jackson whined on the other end, and then went, "But I'm hungry, and I wanna go out. I haven't talked to you since you got that boyfriend of yours."

"You're just jealous that I can get a boyfriend."

"I'll have you know that I'm unfortunately straight."

"Unfortunately?" Namjoon choked on a laugh.

"Alas. But that is beside the point--Nature's at 12:30. Meet me there," Jackson said, practically ordered, and then hung up before Namjoon could argue. He sighed, turning his phone off and placing it on the beside table.

"Who was that?" Seokjin asked, glancing at Namjoon's phone. "And why were you talking in English?"

Namjoon brushed his thumb across Seokjin's skin, and told him, "That was Jackson; I met him when I visited America, so he has a habit of speaking in English when he talks to me."

Seokjin huffed a laugh, and nodded his head. "What did he need?"

"A boyfriend, mainly," Namjoon said with a grin, dimples pressing themselves darkly into his cheeks. Seokjin laughed, and Namjoon went on, "But he wants me to meet him for lunch at 12:30."

Seokjin grabbed his own phone, checking the time, and went, "You should probably get going, then."

He showed Namjoon the time. 12:11.

-----

At 12:32, Namjoon was scrambling into the diner, Seokjin's sweatshirt on his torso and last night's sweatpants clothing his cold legs. Seokjin had also given him a pair of boots, since he'd gone to the older boy's apartment in his slippers, and he didn't have any time to stop back home.

His eyes found Jackson after a few moments of searching; he was sitting in the back of the dinner, facing Namjoon. His dark eyes were ones of judgement and impatience, and he called to Namjoon in English, "You're late."

Namjoon rolled his eyes, "Two minutes. And stop talking in English. It freaks people out."

He sat across from Jackson at the booth, and they both glanced out. Sure enough, a handful of people were staring at them incredulously--English wasn't a rarity, but it's still surprising to hear fluently in public. You could've mistaken them for foreign exchange students, honestly. "I don't care what they think," Jackson said blankly. In English. Again. "I'm trilingual. They should be jealous," he then added in Korean. And finished it smoothly with Chinese, to which Namjoon watched him in confusion at. "I cant help that I'm better than them," Jackson translated, now back in English tongue. Namjoon laughed, watching him with entertained eyes.

Conversation flowed easily between them, as it always did. They ordered and talked, and Jackson eventually bursted, prompting,

"Tell me about your boyfriend."

Namjoon laughed, startled, and asked with a smirk, "Are you trying to take him from me?"

Jackson rolled his eyes, going, "Told you already, my dude. I'm straight as hell."

He earned himself a chuckle, and Namjoon told him, "I don't know. He goes to the same college as me and we live in the same apartment complex. He's only a few centimeters shorter than me and he has brown hair--uh--"

"No, idiot!" Jackson grew impatient quickly, "What's he like? I couldn't care what he looks like. I'm sure he's handsome."

"He looks like a damn model."

Jackson snorted, but shook his head. "No. Personality. Go."

Namjoon couldn't help but smile fondly, and went, "He's really caring and he's a great cook. He comes over every Saturday and bakes us pancakes, and lets me stay over when I can't sleep. I don't know. He's funny--he laughs at his own jokes. He really likes me, I think. And I really like him."

Jackson gave a hum, leaning back into his seat cushion. He opened his mouth to talk, but then their food was being brought out, and he was silenced.

-----

A few days later, Namjoon was coming home from the library and Seokjin from the grocery store, bags of foods weighing down his arms, and they stumbled across each other. They were outside of the apartment, Seokjin fumbling with getting his keys to unlock the building door--the only challenge was doing it without dropping his bags. Namjoon saw him from a little ways down the sidewalk, and jogged up.

"Need a little help there, oppa?" Namjoon said, a smile gracing his lips, and Seokjin jumped. He needed to stop letting Namjoon surprise him so easily.

"Stop scaring me," he huffed, pouting and stepping out of the way so Namjoon could unlock the door. "And quit calling me oppa. It makes my cheeks burn."

"All the more reason," Namjoon blinked his eyelashes at the boy before opening the newly unlocked door, stealing a few of the grocery bags from his grasp as Seokjin made his way inside. His hyung rolled his eyes, Namjoon trailing along right on his tail, a pop in his step.

Seokjin noticed quickly, catching the bounce of his purple hair out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over, surveying Namjoon with a giggly smile. "What are you so giddy over?" he mused. They approached the elevator, and Seokjin pressed the button, earning a response from the doors moments later.

They headed into the elevators as Namjoon replied, "I wasn't expecting to see you today, s'all."

"We're dating, Joon!" Seokjin laughed, nose crinkled and eyes bright, "If you want to see me, just call."

Namjoon shrugged, looking nonchalant (despite his grin) and ignoring his heart fluttering at how happy Seokjin looked. How giggly and ecstatic he was--like a real sunshine. Namjoon's personal sunshine. "This is more natural. Destiny wants us together."

Seokjin rolled his eyes, but he was still giggling.

-----

A few days following and the two bumped into each other once more, and Namjoon couldn't help but think of destiny. Fate.

Notwithstanding how cheesy it sounded.

It was late, about quarter to midnight, when Namjoon was drowsily stepping into the elevator. He'd been out all night with a friend from school, studying for an exam later that week. His brain hurt and his eyes ached--the price that had to be paid as a college student.

He numbly pressed in his floor number, and exhausted hazelnut eyes glanced up from the tile flooring as he heard the building doors shut. He found Seokjin there, brown hair falling in his eyes, draping out of an army green beanie. Namjoon quickly placed a foot in the elevator doorway--ensuring it didn't close, while also ensuring time with his boyfriend in the confines of the elevator. Seokjin glanced up at who was acting out such kind gesture, and a grin grew on his face at the sight of Namjoon. He had on those white glasses from when they first spoke, and his heart swelled. "Why're you just getting back? It's late," Seokjin raised an eyebrow, walking into the elevator and pressing his own floor's button. "Sneaking out to rendezvous with a secret lover?"

Namjoon couldn't help but laugh, dimples popping out, cheeks enlarging so they made his glasses lift. "And if I was, would I honestly tell you?"

Seokjin hit his arm with a shocked giggle. "That is rude, Joon! Respect your elders."

A roll of the eyes was given to him in return, and then Namjoon went, "I was actually out studying, mind you. Where were you? Clubbing, I'm sure."

Seokjin chuckled, leaning against the wall and glancing at himself and then Namjoon in the elevator mirror. "Because I look so buzzed and sweaty." He then sent a look to Namjoon, and continued, "Actually, I was writing an essay at the coffee shop down the street. They're open 24 hours, thank god."

They exchanged grins, and then the doors opened, exposing Namjoon's floor's hallway. They both simply just stared at it.

"You're not going home?" Seokjin mumbled.

"Was thinking I could go to yours," Namjoon said softly, and glanced to Seokjin. The older boy looked back, and sighed, smiling slightly.

"Okay. But you have to make me tea in the morning."

-----

They ended up talking late that night, or morning, rather--it was somewhere past 2am now. Seokjin was tucked into Namjoon's chest, their hands interlocked and their lips whispering softly to each other.

"You know," Seokjin mumbled, and giggled softly. "I was crushing on you for a good few months before you came up to me."

Namjoon laughed quietly, shrilly, and went, "You should've approached me; we could have been together much sooner."

A smile stayed permanently on Seokjin's features. When was it not there when he was with Namjoon? "You know me. I hate making the first move," he responded, brushing his thumb over Namjoon's smooth, dark hand.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this happy. This at peace. Despite all the schoolwork he had to do, chores, studying--he was happy and relieved. Calm. Namjoon made it so that all of his worries washed away in a heavy stream, leaving him with only happiness and love. Definitely something Seokjin could get used to.

He snapped out of his thoughts as Namjoon murmured, "Hey, I hate it too. Do you remember how pathetic my first approach was? Accusing you of stealing my book?" They both laughed, and Namjoon shook his head. "God. It makes me cringe just thinking about it."

"But it worked," Seokjin smiled softly, meeting the younger boy's eyes and hooking a leg over his thighs. "Nothing wrong with it if it worked."

Namjoon hummed, nodding slightly in agreement. His hand left Seokjin's and slid down the span of his torso to his boyfriend's hip, warmly sprawling across his skin. Seokjin sighed shakily, and watched as Namjoon's eyes flickered down to his lips. His heart skipped, and he breathed,

"Can you kiss me?"

The response was quicker than he expected. One second, Namjoon was staring at his lips, and the next, he was kissing them. The kiss was just as Seokjin had remembered it--Namjoon's lips soft and delicate against his own, overwhelming and smooth. God. Seokjin could bathe in this moment forever. Laying next to Namjoon with their lips together, eyes closed and completely trusting. Seokjin could deny it, but he wouldn't. He knew it was true, there was no point to ignoring it.

He was falling in love with Namjoon. Terrifyingly fast.

-----

That next week was winter break. As much as Seokjin had been counting down the days to see his family again, now, the realization that he wouldn't be able to see Namjoon was settling in. But he tried shaking it off. He couldn't lean on Namjoon. That's what he'd done with his previous boyfriend--so when he left, Seokjin completely toppled over and fell pathetically on the ground. He'd only just recently gotten up again. If he was to fall once more--he didn't know if he could get back to his feet.

Seokjin was packing his duffle bag when Namjoon invited himself over, unlocking the door and stepping into his apartment. Seokjin heard his door unlock, and poked his head out of his bedroom, eyeing Namjoon and smiling. "Oh. It's just you."

When he headed back into his room, Namjoon followed behind, and huffed, "Just me? I don't know, I think I need more of a hype."

Seokjin scoffed, and, in a fake, falsetto, girly voice, "Oh! My knight in shining sweatpants! The handsomest man in Seoul!"

Namjoon laughed, running a hand through his hair happily. "In the flesh." His boyfriend rolled his eyes and returned to packing, pushing shirts smoothly into the crevices. Namjoon watched him, and asked, "Where're you going?"

"Home," Seokjin replied simply.

"So early?" Namjoon furrowed his eyebrows, and Seokjin looked to him. "Winter break just started today."

Seokjin smiled and shrugged, telling him softly, "I miss my family. I rarely see them."

Namjoon nodded his head, watching as Seokjin continued packing, and after a few minutes, he whispered, "I'm gunna miss you." His voice cracked halfway through.

Seokjin froze, looking over at Namjoon, who had his legs crossed and his hands fidgeting in his lap. His purple hair--that now had brown roots growing in--was faintly covering his right eye, one dark iris peering up at Seokjin. He looked almost vulnerable. "Hey," Seokjin breathed, stepping over to the edge of the bed, directly in front of Namjoon. "I won't be gone too long. Besides--you're probably going to be with your friends and family too; you'll be fine."

He cupped Namjoon's face along his jaw in his two hands, leaning forward to press a soft, reassuring kiss to his forehead. "I don't want to go home," Namjoon admitted, and his voice broke once more, fading into a whimper. Oh no. Oh god--ohgodohgodohgod.

Seokjin sat himself beside Namjoon just as the boy spontaneously broke down--tears hot and clear as they burned down pink cheeks, arms weak and feeble as they wrapped around Seokjin's waist. The oldest simply petted his hair, lips brushing comfortingly against his face. He waited a few minutes, until Namjoon seemed capable to speak again, and softly prompted, "What happened, Joon?"

Namjoon pulled back with a shaky sigh, Seokjin taking his silence as a time to brush away the tears that were slowly staining into his skin. The younger boy's eyes shut momentarily, and fluttered back open after Seokjin brushed his purple hair out of his face and let his hands fall into Namjoon's lap--joining his with the younger's. "They don't like me," he mumbled. "They never have. I wasn't the greatest student, and I couldn't make friends, and I didn't play sports, and all I liked was dancing and making music. My entire family told me I was just wasting my time and to continue with my studies instead. I'm only in college because of them, honestly. They shipped me off without a second thought. Every time I see them, they make fun of me and yell at me--'Maybe if you would've studied harder'... 'Maybe if you got into shape, you could get yourself a wife.'" He paused, and his eyes fell to their clasped hands. "They hate that I'm gay. Despise it. They're convinced that it's a phase--that I haven't found the right girl just yet. But I did. I found him--he's just a guy." He glanced up at Seokjin, whose lips parted at the sentence. "They know I'm dating you, since I've posted pictures, so as soon as I visit, they'll be all over me. Telling me to stop being a disgrace."

He couldn't bring himself to conclude his monologue. He just shut his mouth there, hands shaking in Seokjin's. The older boy sat quietly, soaking up the sudden and shocking information. After a few moments of the only sound being Namjoon's shaky hiccups, Seokjin went, "You don't need them. You have me--my family will surely love you. Come home with me. You don't have to go see your family."

"I do," Namjoon managed out, weakly. "I have to. They'll be more on me if I don't. I'll just go there for a few days, and then I'll come back here."

Seokjin sighed in response, releasing one of Namjoon's hands to cup his cheek. "You come back and wait for me, okay?" Namjoon's dark eyes met his, red clouding the white. "I'll come back early to be with you. And we can stay in and watch movies and I'll cook for you and it'll be okay. Yeah?"

A simple smile graced Namjoon's lips, not big enough to bring upon dimples, but enough to reassure Seokjin that he'd be okay. "Alright," he breathed, and Seokjin came forward, attaching their lips hesitantly, softly. This one wasn't the same as the other kisses--this one was slow and had emotions packed heavily behind it, sadness, love, support. Namjoon's lips moved weakly against him, not moving his hands from his lap, eyes shutting as he leant into the kiss.

It was short, but Seokjin pulled back soon, and whispered against his lips, "If something goes wrong, you call me. I will come and get you if I have to." Namjoon giggled softly, and there it was. Him being all strong and happy, even when things were rough and overwhelming.

Seokjin loved him.

-----

Seokjin was enjoying his time home, enjoying the home cooked meals and time with his family. Namjoon had texted him and told him that he'd gone home too, since it was now Christmas Eve, and that he'd let him know if anything went badly. It was a few hours later, and Seokjin still had no reports from his boyfriend.

The next day, although, Seokjin was talking to family members at a Christmas family reunion when his phone began going off spastically. He pulled it out of his pocket to see Namjoon calling him, and quickly excused himself--finding a quiet room in the building. He answered the phone call with a soft, "Joon? Are you alright?"

He was met with erratic breathing, and a weak, "Well, if alright is sitting in a bathroom trying to get over an anxiety attack, then yes."

Seokjin sat down on the cold, tiled floor, and went, "Just breathe, okay? Take a few deep breaths and then tell me what happened. I'm listening."

He heard long breaths and exhales on the other end, and after a few moments, Namjoon finally spoke again. "They're all on me. It's relentless. I don't understand why I'm the center of all of their jokes--I haven't even done anything. I'm just easy to pick on, I guess." He was practically whimpering, and Seokjin's heart broke. "They keep telling me I'm useless. Saying I'm a disgrace for being gay. 'Your boyfriend is probably just with you out of complete pity'... That's what my aunt told me. And everyone added in, saying that you'd get sick of me soon. That everyone gets sick of me."

A sob escaped the younger boy's lips, and his breathing became quick and sharp again. Seokjin could practically hear Namjoon shaking. "They're lying," he immediately said. "Those are all lies. I care about you so much, I'm with you because you're the most beautiful person I've ever met--inside and out. Do you hear me, Namjoon? You're amazing. Don't you dare listen to a word they say."

A whimper, a hiccup, and then a short, "Okay."

Seokjin looked down at his own left hand, gripping his phone tighter in his right. "Go back to the apartment," he murmured. "Stay at my place. I'll be there tomorrow."

"Don't leave because of me--"

"You can't stop me. I have to be with you now," Seokjin said, and then tagged on, in a whisper, "I'm not leaving you alone. Okay? I'll see you at home, oppa."

Namjoon chuckled gently on the other end, and then whispered, "Okay. I'll see you."

He hung up the phone and Seokjin got to his feet, hoping his boyfriend would be okay until tomorrow.

-----

Seokjin was packing to go back to his apartment that night, anxiety and worry pulsing thickly in his blood. Namjoon had texted him a few hours ago, saying he was waiting for him in his apartment. So he was okay. But Seokjin didn't know how okay he'd be if he wasn't there with him--his boyfriend needed him most, and Seokjin wasn't there. Maybe he'd leave earlier, maybe he'd leave tonight. He needed Namjoon in his arms, he needed to ensure that he was alright--

"Seokjin?"

His erratic thoughts came to a screeching halt, and he turned, finding his mom standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom. Her eyes held concern, glancing from his face, to his shaking hands, and then to his bag.

"Tell me what's wrong," she demanded silently. "You're leaving early, I have only seen worry on your face for this entire day, and you're shaking." She stepped over, sitting on the bed, and indicating for him to sit next to her. He did so, hesitantly and nervously. "Talk to me."

Seokjin's breath left his lips slowly, and he looked down to his hands. He couldn't look at her. "It's my boyfriend. He's having some family issues, and so he went back to my apartment and he's there right now. I need to be with him--I don't know what will happen if I'm not."

As the last sentence came tumbling out, Seokjin's body froze. That's right. He didn't know what would happen. He hasn't known Namjoon for that long--he doesn't know anything about his bad side. All he knows is his happiness--that's all he's been presented with. Sure, he knows about his family, but Seokjin's sure he wasn't even been told the half of it. He's sure that there's an entire dark history behind Namjoon--a history full of stories that he's never told anyone before.

Then Seokjin's mind bent, and he was reminded of his ex. His ex. The boy that Seokjin was sure was the sweetest boy in the world, a walking angel, and he soon found out that he was anything but. He still had scars from his abusive tendencies.

Would Namjoon end up curling up and being just the same? Would he break and take his pain out on Seokjin?

No. He wouldn't. Seokjin was positive--but were his affirmations always right? How much could he say about his assumptions so far?

-----

Seokjin bid his family goodbye that next morning and headed out, his mother sending him off with wishes that Namjoon and him would be okay. Seokjin could only hope.

When he got back to his apartment, he found Namjoon in his bed, still sleeping. It was 10am, after all.

He placed his bag on the ground and got into the bed behind Namjoon, a tight arm wrapping around the younger's waist. Namjoon shifted in his sleep, and mumbled out sleepily, "Oppa?" Seokjin could practically hear his heart break. Namjoon sounded so vulnerable--so small in his arms. How could Seokjin ever think he'd turn into his ex?

"Yeah, it's me," he said delicately, and Namjoon twisted, now facing Seokjin. He blinked slowly, eyes meeting the older's, and a small smile stretched on his lips, just big enough to induce small dimples. "Good morning."

"G'morning," Namjoon mumbled, and brought his head up, exhaustingly bringing their lips together for a short kiss.

They've been away from each other longer, sure, so having missed one another so much sounded insane. Dramatic, even. But it was different. Normally, they were mere minutes away from each other. Namjoon could visit him whenever he wanted to, and the same goes for Seokjin. But when they're so far away from each other, things are shifted. The option of only calling or texting wasn't very satisfying. Both preferred knowing their lover was only moments away whenever they needed them.

"You didn't have to come back," Namjoon mumbled against his lips, and Seokjin inhaled through his nose. The scent of Namjoon overwhelmed his senses, soft and woody. Seokjin smiled.

"I wanted to," he replied. "You needed me. So here I am."

-----

Namjoon never went into detail about what happened. In fact, he never brought up his family since the call he made on Christmas day. Seokjin was alright with it though. If Namjoon didn't want to speak about it, he didn't have to. Seokjin only wanted him to be comfortable.

A few weeks passed by, and they were now back in school, a reality that Seokjin hated to come to terms with. The only thing pulling him through was Namjoon--Namjoon that now spent every other night at Seokjin's, Namjoon that took Seokjin out on lame cliche dates 3 times a week. They spent way more time together now--and neither of them were complaining.

Well, Yoongi was complaining. But he always was.

Things were okay, though. Namjoon and Seokjin had been together for about 6 months now, and it was okay. They fought just enough to keep the relationship healthy and kissed just enough to keep each other happy and attentive. They cuddled at night and whispered their secrets and dreams into the darkness. They knew almost everything about each other.

Almost.

It was 11:47 PM on a Thursday night when Namjoon walked in on Seokjin having an anxiety attack.

Normally, he didn't come over on Thursdays, since he had his worst class on Thursday and stayed up until 1am doing schoolwork for it. But tonight was different. He didn't have much work to do, but when he went to bed, he couldn't fall asleep. So he went to Seokjin, as he normally would on a sleepless night like this one. But he was met with an unsettled, gasping Seokjin, tears running hot from his eyes and hands shakily grasping his duvet for dear life.

Namjoon rushed over to his bed, kneeling beside him on his mattress. "Seokjin!" he gasped sharply, cupping his face in his hands, and the older's eyes blinked fast--pupils blurry as they watched Namjoon. His breathing got impossibly quicker before he shut his eyes, shaking his head fast to get Namjoon to take his hands back. He did.

"G-Go away, Joon," he sobbed, voice cracking. He pushed himself back until his spine was crushing itself against his headboard, and he reached his hands back. He desperately clutched at the small hairs on his neck, short and thin, barely resisting from being tugged out of his body. "I don't w-want you to see me like this-s."

Namjoon pushed himself closer, but kept a bit of distance, fearful of frightening the boy and panicking him further. "I'm not going anywhere, oppa," he said firmly, and Seokjin's tears ran hotter and faster. "Concentrate on your breathing, please. Take deep breaths."

He counted with Seokjin, fretful eyes watching on as he desperately tried to slow down his heart rate and breathing, fingernails anxiously digging into any smooth skin they could find. Namjoon watched on helplessly as C shaped cuts formed on his boyfriend's biceps.

It took an hour. A full hour ticked slowly by until Seokjin and Namjoon were laying down together, Seokjin's breathing smooth and calm, as if his anxiety attack never happened. They were only touching with their hands, clasped together warmly, since Namjoon was nervous any other forms of touching would trigger another attack. He knew how vulnerable a person could be after an anxiety attack. He'd been there plenty of times before.

When his attack concluded, Seokjin had whimpered for Namjoon to fetch him his sleeping pills. He did--he clambered blindly from the dark bedroom and eventually found them in the medicine cabinet in the kitchen, soon bringing Seokjin how many it said on the orange bottle. 2 pills and a cup of water. He watched on with a strained heart as Seokjin took the pills easily, and laid back down.

He was now asleep, Namjoon watching him silently.

What had caused his attack? How many had he had? Was it a recent thing that he never bothered to tell Namjoon about?

Questions swarmed his head, his mind not having a second of rest from them. Pestering. All questions he'd have to ask the following morning. That is, if Seokjin is willing to provide him with answers.

-----

The next morning, Namjoon woke up to an empty bed and the aroma of food wafting from the kitchen. He got up, rubbing at his eyes and stumbling slightly, making his way to the kitchen to find Seokjin--making them both omurice whilst quietly humming to himself. Namjoon stepped up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist before he kissed his neck warmly. Seokjin jumped slightly, and then giggled softly as Namjoon went, "G'morning, oppa~."

"It's so unfair," Seokjin murmured, "that you call me oppa. I asked the day we first kissed if I could call you that!"

Namjoon laughed, looking up as Seokjin looked back at him, eyes bright and smile brighter. Completely opposite of last night. "Well, you're older," Namjoon reasoned, and Seokjin's eyebrows raised. "It's more respectful."

Seokjin hummed, looking back at his food. "What should I call you?" he pondered softly. He thought for a few minutes, and as he was servicing their food on plates--omurice and left over kimchi--he went, "We'll stick with Joonie for now, until I can come up with something."

-----

That night, they were curled up together on Namjoon's couch, some drama playing on the television, when Namjoon asked, "What happened yesterday night?"

It was quiet, Seokjin's eyes tearing away from the television and to his hands, which were on his thighs. His legs were laid across Namjoon's lap, and the younger had him in his arms. "I usually don't have anxiety attacks," Seokjin mumbled. "I haven't had one since before I met you, actually. But--uhm. Sometimes I overthink, and. And it gets bad."

Namjoon brought a hand up, fingers delicately placed on Seokjin's jaw. He turned Seokjin's face to fully face him, and he spoke, "Can you tell me what caused it?" He then paused, and added, "Talking about it will help, oppa. It only gets worse if you bottle it up."

Seokjin nodded his head, and Namjoon's hand dropped, finding one of Seokjin's hands to entangle with. The older pursed his lips and then whispered, "My ex boyfriend. He... Well. He was abusive. Like, physically, mentally, verbally... The whole thing." He froze, bringing his free hand up to hurriedly brush away any signs of tears. "He was amazing at the beginning of our relationship. We met at a cafe, actually--he worked there, and he was so handsome. Everyone fawned over him. He asked me out and we started dating--and it was great. He treated me amazingly. But something happened a few months in... I don't know what it was. He just snapped. At the start, he wouldn't let me go spend time with Yoongi, and watched me like a hawk when I was on my phone. It escalated, fast--he eventually only let me out of the house when I had classes. He monitored my phone. He'd yell at me, beat me, force me to--to d-do thing-gs--" He broke down at that point, falling weakly into Namjoon's arms. He pulled his hand away from the younger to grasp his shirt in two fists, face burrowing into his neck. He pathetically attempted to go on. "He didn't let me leave him, and for a long time, I thought it was okay. I thought we were still meant to be. But when I realized it definitely wasn't--that no one should be beaten stupid, no matter what--I tried to tell people about it, get some help. But they didn't believe me. Said he was too nice to do such a thing." His tears ran hotter, feverishly. "Yoongi helped me get out of it. Him, his boyfriend and one of his friends came over one day, and they--" He paused, wiping his tears with his shirt. "Yoongi and his friend pulled my boyfriend from the apartment and battered him up somewhere. Yoon's boyfriend helped me get my stuff and comforted me, and that's the last time I saw that apartment or that guy. I moved in with Yoongi for a few months, and then I got my place upstairs a while before I met you." He kept his head hung as his sob story concluded--he knew he was ugly when he cried. He didn't want Namjoon seeing his face. "That's why Yoongi doesn't like you. He thinks I fell for you too quickly after all that. And last night--I. Well." He laughed bitterly through his tears. "I really don't wanna tell you, but I really need to. Ah." He paused, wiping at his eyes quickly before they became even wetter. "I was thinking about how amazing you've been. How happy you've made me. You're a blessing, honestly--but then I thought about how my ex was the same. He made me unbelievably happy. But he twisted in the blink of an eye, and I don't want--"

The idea stabbed him and sent him immediately back into a pool of sobs; he collapsed back into Namjoon's chest, who held him tight, rubbing soothingly at his back. "I would never treat you like that," he murmured. "I want you to only be happy. The fact that someone treated you so awfully disgusts me--Seokjin... Oppa."

He took his face in his hands, thumbs brushing away his lover's tears. His heart sank at the sight--stained cheeks, red eyes, shaking and pouting bottom lip. Seokjin didn't deserve to be hurt like this--permanently scarred because of one asshole. Namjoon was aching.

"I won't mistreat you. Okay? You deserve so much more. You deserve to be spoiled until you're sick. You deserve endless happiness. And I'm going to try my best to make that a reality."

Seokjin's stomach twisted. Here it was. Here was the reason why he knew Namjoon was different than his ex--he had a heart of gold. He cared endlessly for Seokjin, pampering him in words as sweet and thick as molasses and touches and caresses as soft as butterfly kisses. Namjoon was too perfect. The older boy couldn't believe he was even real.

He leant in for a kiss, a salty one, tasting of Namjoon's lips and Seokjin's wasted cries. They barely moved, just stayed together, as one, their hearts weak in their chests. Seokjin loved Namjoon. Was that too soon? Was all of this too soon? It had only been a little over half a year, after all. But Namjoon was the best thing to ever happen to him--the sweetest boy he'd ever met, the one person that made him endlessly happy. Sure, they argued some, but no relationship was perfect. And Seokjin felt as if they were as close to perfect as it could get. He truly, endlessly, unbelievably, loved Namjoon.

"I love you."

Like an avalanche, the three words came tumbling from Seokjin's lips, and into Namjoon's. The phrase was sudden, and smacked both of them in the face. It shocked even Seokjin, who had said it. He definitely didn't mean to say it. Was he even ready for that? No. No, no no no no no. This was definitely too soon. This was definitely too fast.

Why wasn't Namjoon saying anything? Hours felt like they had ticked by, hours of pure silence, all Seokjin feeling was the breathing of Namjoon against his own lips. So he was alive, at least. He didn't positively die at the words. Oh god. If Namjoon wasn't going to say anything soon, Seokjin was sure he'd die. Absolutely just leave and go to hell right then and there. Why wasn't he talking? Seokjin was about to beg him to speak. Whimper. He knew he fell in love too fast. Always. He was hoping Namjoon would be different--but here he is, silent--

"I love you too, oppa."

Seokjin's hands went from shaking to absolutely still, and within mere seconds, his smile grew until he was grinning like a cheshire cat, tears forgotten. Namjoon saw this and laughed, the noise bubbly and happy in Seokjin's ears, and his eyes lit up. "You love me back?" he went, and Namjoon laughed more, dimples impossibly deepening.

"Of course I do, you dork," Namjoon giggled, fucking giggled, and Seokjin almost tackled him back into the couch, attacking him in kisses.

Well. Maybe that's exactly what he did.

-----

Seokjin had a planned lunch date with Yoongi and Jimin that next day, and when he went, he was a giggly mess, bopping up and down. He couldn't sit still, energy so high it was blasting through the atmosphere. It wasn't long until Yoongi sighed, "What is it? What did your boyfriend do?"

Seokjin's eyes brightened even more--as if that were possible. "He told me he loves me, Yoon!" he giggled, cheeks pink and eyes squinting happily. "Last night. He kissed me and he told me he loves me~."

Jimin laughed, "Good for you!" His smile was almost as bubbly as Seokjin's, and Yoongi didn't need much convincing before he was smiling as well.

"I'm happy for you, Seokjin-hyung."

And if that wasn't just the greatest thing Seokjin's heard.

-----

Jackson got to meet Seokjin two weeks following, as Namjoon had invited him over for dinner with him and Seokjin. He'd told Namjoon how thrilled he was to be meeting his "wife"--well, more of gushed. Namjoon knew Seokjin would love Jackson--everyone did. With his bubbly personality and horrible sense of humor, he was a family favorite.

Jackson arrived at Namjoon's apartment at 8 that night, dressed in a thrilled grin and the tightest skinny jeans Namjoon has ever seen on anyone. "I'm so hungry," were his first words, in English, of course, and Namjoon watched him, unamused.

"Don't use English," he sighed, but of course, his tongue was in his second language. "I told you, Seokjin-hyung doesn't know it."

Jackson merely shook his head and made his way inside, slipping off his shoes, following the smell drifting from the kitchen entrance. He was met with a Seokjin, a look of concentration thick in his eyes as he cooked, making his way around the kitchen expertly. Namjoon came up beside Jackson, watching Seokjin--who hadn't noticed them yet, as he had twisted and now had his back to them two. "He's real pretty, Namjoon," Jackson spoke in English, and as Seokjin turned at the sudden new voice, he added on, "You surely weren't wrong about him being a model."

Seokjin bowed his head, and spoke in apology, "I'm sorry--I, ah. I don't know English." He, of course, spoke in Korean.

"He's so polite~," Jackson mused in English, as if he was doing a check list to see if Seokjin was suitable for Namjoon. It was almost laughable. "It's okay, I have a bad habit of speaking in that tongue," Jackson then said in Korean this time, a smile on his lips as Seokjin brought his head back up. "What are you cooking?"

Seokjin grinned in return, and turned back to his food, telling him, "Fried rice, cucumber kimchi, and cheese buldak."

Jackson's lips parted, and suddenly, the food smelled all the more appetizing. "He can cook," he mumbled under his breath, returning to English. "A perfect housewife you got yourself, Namjoon."

-----

Namjoon officially met Jimin and Yoongi a while afterwards, as well.

Him and Seokjin met the couple in a restaurant a few blocks away, a fancy place that still remained in a college student's price range. They both wore button ups, Namjoon's cuffed up and a blazer worn over his clothes. Seokjin, being dramatic as usual, went in only his shirt; when Namjoon recommended a coat to prevent cold, Seokjin went, "Sacrifices must be made."

As if Namjoon had a clue what he was on about. He just wished for his boyfriend to remain healthy.

Namjoon kept a secure arm around his lover's waist as they walked into the restaurant, dimly lit with reds and purples. The younger kept close behind Seokjin like a lost puppy--fancier atmospheres put him off slightly, but Seokjin fit right in, perfectly at ease. He found Yoongi and Jimin, leading the two of them up to the pairing.

They were sitting at a booth in the back, and the two got up as soon as they noticed Seokjin and Namjoon making their way over. Namjoon blinked as soon as they got to their feet but tried to ignore it--the both of them were short. Like. When they were only a foot away, Namjoon had to look down.

"It's so amazing to properly meet you," Namjoon beamed despite his slight shock, and bowed, keeping his hand warm against Seokjin's lower back. He looked back up before he added, "Seokjin-hyung speaks highly of both of you."

The shortest one, hair a delicate pink (or was it just the lighting in the building?) smiled vibrantly, and ducked his head. "Seokjin-hyung is truly the worst," he chuckled, and looked up at Namjoon through his fringe. "I'm Jimin," he outstretched his small hand, and Namjoon pulled away from Seokjin to carefully shake it. He didn't want to break the boy--there was a reason Jackson called him 'God of Destruction'. "And this is Yoongi."

The boy to his left was slightly taller and wore not only black hair, but a judgmental glare. Namjoon remembered that look from when they'd first met, unamused from his antics. Namjoon smiled anyway. "We've met," he said, and then reached to shake Yoongi's hand. "It's great to see you again, Yoongi-hyung."

Seokjin had told him earlier that Yoongi was older and Jimin was younger so he didn't make a fool of himself in front of the two. He was thankful now, as respect filled Yoongi's dark gaze.

He shook Namjoon's hand, and then they all sat down, a waiter bringing around drinks for them all, water for both Jimin and Namjoon while their boyfriends were taking alcohol. The youngest giggled to each other about being more responsible, and their boyfriends scoffed at them.

All in all, things flowed smoothly. Flawlessly, almost. If you didn't count when Yoongi critically stared Namjoon down when the younger spoke, listening intently for any tell tale signs of an abuser. Namjoon was sure he wouldn't find any, but he was still unbelievably nervous under his eyes. This was the boy that would determine Seokjin and Namjoon's fate--if Yoongi disapproved, that could mean the end of the young lovers.

A few hours later, the group was exiting the restaurant, Seokjin stumbling only slightly and Namjoon holding him so he didn't trip over oxygen atoms. They were walking to the bus stop, where Seokjin and Namjoon would get on and part ways with their friends, when Yoongi stopped Namjoon, hand on his elbow. "Hey," he mumbled when Namjoon turned to him, confusion drowning the brown in his eyes. "Can I talk to you really quick?" He then glanced to Seokjin and Jimin. "Alone."

Namjoon basically handed Seokjin off to Jimin and the two continued on to the bus stop, while Yoongi stayed put with Namjoon, watching as their boyfriends walked off. Once he decided they were out of ear range, the older boy went, "I know I've been hard on you. But there's a reason for all of it--Seokjin-hyung just hasn't been treated well in the past, so I've taken it upon myself to look after him. So he doesn't end up getting his heart broken again."

"He told me," Namjoon's voice came out in a weak whisper. "His abusive ex--he told me all about it. How you got him out of it and let him live with you." He paused, and then quickly added, "Thank you, by the way. I know I wasn't even in his life, but I'm so glad you're there for him. I'm so happy he has someone like you."

Yoongi's lips upturned, and he smiled happily up at Namjoon, his eyes turning into faint crescent moons. "This is why I trust you with him, Namjoon. I think you'll treat him right--make him happy." He grinned a gummy grin before adding, "Don't you dare break my trust."

He then walked past Namjoon, rushing over to his boyfriend and his best friend. Namjoon sighed, shoulders falling in relief. Yoongi liked him.

Everything was coming together.

-----

Months passed fast, and soon, Seokjin was graduating. But that wasn't the most important thing that had happened in those few months.

Namjoon moved into Seokjin's, which was long overdue. He spent more time there nowadays anyway, he already called the apartment home. The only difference now was they both had to pay half as much for rent, and they saw each other every waking minute. Which. No complaints.

He also met Seokjin's family, and was accepted under their wing almost instantly. He was treated like a true son-in-law already, even though they hadn't even gotten engaged. But that was certainly on Namjoon's to-do list.

All in all, they were doing great. Better than. They were happy, and who could ask for anything more than that? What more was there to want when you already had your best friend, your lover, and your source of life in one person?

fin.