Chapter Text
One day, he stopped talking. Or, perhaps he never really started. Jimin has not known Namjoon long enough, and they only speak in one sided conversations and facial expressions. All he knows for now is that Namjoon's favorite color is green, and he likes to read. Namjoon can talk, according to his mother, but he hasn’t in a long time. On some days, Namjoon will part his lips as if to say something, but then he'll swallow air, and turn back to whatever he had been doing.
Jimin always stares longingly whenever he does.
-
No one will ever understand him, he thinks. Namjoon can't decide if that's good or not. When Jimin talks to him, despite his lack of reply, he feels cared for. Past all of that though, Namjoon still feels numbness in his chest. There's a constant urge to scream, show what he's feeling so, so desperately, but an eternal exhaustion keeps his mouth from falling slack.
He feels trapped, moving but never budging under the white water in his brain. Namjoon is tired.
Staying afloat becomes impossible at some point, too.
-
Jimin reads him stories under the tree in his front yard. On school nights, Jimin'll stop after a chapter or two, pack his bags, and take a couple steps. Sometimes, there's a pause, and the junior will dig something out of his bag. Those are the days Namjoons receives gifts in the form of snacks, simple and caring, but to him, they mean everything.
One day it could be an apple, another it'll be expensive art materials that Namjoon guiltily takes, because he'll never use them. Every gift in between is a reminder that someone in the world is capable of loving someone like Kim Namjoon.
On weekends, Jimin will read to Namjoon until the sun leaves him no more light to continue. Namjoon usually skips dinner when this happens, but Jimin always makes sure he has something. A sandwich, some chips. Namjoon likes the pretzels, and soon Jimin seems to take notice by how quickly they disappear, the way his lips curl when the bag is in his hands.
For a week straight, Namjoon eats pretzels under the willow.
-
It's his senior year, and Jimin is a junior. Since Namjoon's freshman year, he's had Jimin close to him, a middle schooler with a golden heart usually found in mothers. Their friendship had started not long after summer break, when a new kid had been forced to move into Namjoon's humble neighborhood because of a parent's job. The reason they had been put together mainly came from the fact they were the only ones close in age, other children either far too old to hang around or young enough to babysit for odd money.
Their friendship, in the beginning, had not been by their own will, but today Namjoon relies most of his happiness on the younger boy. The idea of doing so is only lethal: the books Jimin has read him over the years repetitively teach him that turning something mobile and living into a home is not smart. It's not healthy. Leaning on another human being, an individual struggling to find their name and purpose, is as selfish as it is ignorant. Namjoon knows these things, but still allows himself to slump against Jimin's shoulder every afternoon, staring up at the willow tree's strong branches.
Jimin knows he should not try to fix something he did not break. Every word, and every line he has read since the month he moved into this neighborhood has taught him so. Fixing a person, whom can only be fixed by self-will alone, is dangerous. The act is as idiotic as it is heartbreaking, and instead of mending a heart, Jimin will only end up destroying his own. He shouldn't allow Namjoon to be so dependent on him; Jimin should readjust their positions when his shoulder is converted into a pillow, but he instead leans his head back onto Namjoon's, and continues to read out loud until his throat feels raw and neglected.
-
When Jimin made the transition into high school, his whole personality changed. To Namjoon, he managed to stay the same, but Namjoon has always been a bit blind. He watches during their passing periods as Jimin becomes loud with his friends, throwing trash around the hallways. There's only a year separating them, but Namjoon already feels so old.
Jimin shouts, eyes bright and grin wide, poking at his much taller friend. The two feed off each other's energy, and Namjoon feels drained of it. Namjoon's friend, his only friend, looks happy. Jimin, with his freshly dyed hair and brand new clothes, looks thrilled with his head thrown back and eyes closed in laughter, Taehyung leaning back from his ear as if he just told the funniest joke. A humorous secret.
Namjoon wishes he could give him that type of friendship.
-
Speaking, in all due respect, is easy. Namjoon has done it before, it's been so many years, but he's done it. Some days he questions himself on why he's so difficult, too weak to even make sounds and pronounce words instead of saying them inside his head. The inner voice he uses to read is more familiar to him now than his physical voice. It's confident, and not as bruised, and it's his.
No one else knows it, but Namjoon is witty. His mind is much more complex than everyone who talks expects it to be. When the class clown speaks out, lackluster and dull at this point of the year, Namjoon rolls his eyes below his hanging bangs, mutters an insult no one else can hear when he props his chin up on a palm. He stares, and no one can hear him because he doesn't open his mouth, but Namjoon says something.
-
One day, Jimin brings someone with him.
Hoseok is bright, he smiles a lot. Namjoon can't help but stare when Hoseok is leaning over Jimin's shoulder, reading the words faster than Jimin can say them out loud. Hoseok is also Namjoon's age, they study in the same year yet Namjoon has somehow not run into him. He supposes not meeting was a mistake, because Hoseok takes sign language, and happily signs hello and goodbye when he comes and goes.
After the first time, Hoseok tags along more. He ends up skipping ahead of Jimin, up the gradual incline of their shitty neighborhood road, with the brightest of expressions present on his features. Hoseok is happy, and it rubs off on Namjoon. They become friends without much effort, and Namjoon learns that Hoseok's father is his literature teacher.
Namjoon feels as if he's finally on top of slightly calmer water.
So when Jimin becomes absent, Hoseok takes his place. It's Hoseok that comes every day without fail, smile dropping when he has to come up with an excuse for Jimin. He doesn't want to say that Jimin, young and impulsive, leaves with Taehyung some nights to the next town over and doesn't come back the next day. Namjoon doesn't need to know that his closest friend finds ways to get drunk just to stay away from reading books under the now familiar willow tree.
While something feels empty, Namjoon is okay after a couple weeks. Like an injury, he wonders what he had cried about so pitifully after the hurt is gone. Instead, he looks forward to conversing with Hoseok, mirroring those bright smiles with perfect teeth. They don't read books much anymore, but rather Namjoon listens to Hoseok talk, and leans against him as they do homework together.
Some days, Hoseok comes upset. Namjoon isn't startled as much as he is worried the times those days happen, because Hoseok is open about it. Hoseok will talk if he wants to talk, and the days he doesn't, Namjoon still listens. He can't do anything else.
-
Namjoon beams these days. There's something different about his demeanor, but no one at school can figure out what changed. Eyebrows are raised when Namjoon seeks out Hoseok in the cafeteria, setting his tray down without hesitation. He's not known for having many friends, not known much at all.
Maybe they all stare because Hoseok's table is full of faces Namjoon knows the names to, has heard stories about, and none of them recognizes Namjoon's tall frame or quiet nature. Still, he's accepted. Hoseok smiles that warm smile, and Jimin sits there sometimes, too. The table becomes a home and Namjoon doesn't retract back into himself during the day anymore.
Jimin, however, becomes more reserved.
No one cares to know why.
-
The first time Jimin leaves town with Taehyung, he has fun.
He doesn’t remember what happened that night.
-
The night Hoseok appears in Namjoon's dreams, Namjoon wakes up terrified. It's not something he should think about, but finds himself laying in his bed, thinking about it. Hoseok's hands holding his arms had felt all too real, the tickling brush of lips over Namjoon'sforehead and the pressure of being held way too convincing. Namjoon lays flat on his back, palm flush against his chest, over his heart to feel it fluttering.
"Stay," The honey voice had not been perfectly recreated, ruining the illusion. Namjoon's brain still lies to the rest of him, though, and it takes forever to calm down.
By the time morning comes, he feels even more helpless.
Namjoon doesn't avoid Hoseok. If he did, then he would have close to no one. He just sits with him at lunch, gazing for too long when Hoseok doesn't look, and grinning when he does. After all, it's not like he has to be afraid of saying anything stupid. He can't, so he won't.
He hopes he won't, because Namjoon is finally becoming comfortable with the water he used to drown in.
-
What he doesn't expect is the way his fantasy is snatched away from him. In the end, Namjoon expected that he'd just get over it. For two months, Namjoon told himself that eventually the idea of Hoseok will dim, and he won't be as bright as the sun Namjoon wakes up to. He had been convinced that liking Hoseok would be painless, quiet and barely there.
The day Jimin comes back to Namjoon, as if nothing had happened with a book in his arm, he's holding Hoseok's hand.
It's not that he feels betrayed or hurt: Namjoon's not insecure like that, but rather when he watches the both of them sneak smiles at each other, hands perhaps brushing a little too much, it's more of a feeling like oh. There's no other way to describe the murkiness in his chest, or the sudden numbness in his hands as he reaches to grab for the book Jimin holds out. Namjoon is just thinking oh.
Hoseok's smile doesn't feel as special anymore.
-
Maybe Jimin had only wanted to fix him. There's not very many available explanations for why he had stuck so close to Namjoon all these years. By nature, Jimin is curious: Namjoon had always found it incriminating. From the time the younger boy had gotten hurt falling into a creek behind Namjoon's house when they were kids to showing up on his doorstep with a wide smile and snacks packed by his mother, Jimin's genuine kindness influenced bad decisions.
Now that he's older, seventeen and much more mature, Jimin is still too nice. Namjoon wouldn't dare to call him naïve, but Jimin couldn't say no. He'd sit with kids in the lunchroom that were originally alone, give them a friend for a day. Jimin provides love and care, and he does care, but it only lasts for so long.
Jimin is full of false securities.
Namjoon may just be a little mean for thinking that, but it's hard to get onto himself for it when he watches Hoseok dedicate his attention to Jimin for a couple of weeks. Apparently the whole school knows by now; they're the couple that walks down the hallway together, discussing classes and bumping into each other's sides the whole time. They're so subtle but at the same time they're obvious as hell and Namjoon has to turn away to face his locker every time.
There comes a time when Hoseok comes along again, though, but he's bright as ever. Their routine is interrupted by Hoseok wanting to talk about Jimin. About them. There's nothing technically wrong with it, but to Namjoon it's the reminder that he's just not over Hoseok yet.
-
Namjoon writes to himself on sticky notes. His fingers are dotted with pen ink. It's not the prettiest sight among his bitten nails and cracking cuticles, and it takes a few washes for the marks to be gone, but the notes quiet his loud thoughts.
The square is filled with words, depressing and sometimes an attempt to sound happy. Doing this, Namjoon is sure he's able to breathe, and his chest isn't being pushed under the current. Loopy letters in black ink reflect his envy, kills the hurt.
He ends up filling his room with illegible handwriting on fluorescent notes. His mother never asks about it if she notices.
-
At the end of their hallway, there's a built-in bookshelf. Namjoon leaves his things on it sometimes, dropping a textbook or an essay fresh off the printer. They don't really store books in it as much as they do anything else that'll fit in there. Today he drops his useless pens, spent of their ink. There on the ledge, they'll probably stay there for perhaps too long before being thrown away.
Today, he chooses to, once again, not notice the framed picture of his proud father. Today, he plans to work on making a change.
-
Namjoon doesn't change, he's an ntrovert when he graduates from his senior year. People never change anyways.
He pays for his mother when they go out for dinner, because Namjoon doesn't have enough friends to throw a party. He's not very social, anyways. Jimin leaves a gift on the doorstep that Namjoon doesn't open until his headache from drinking is gone. Hoseok texts him, and he deletes their text thread after returning the favor.
Then, during the summer, he doesn't see either of them. Instead, Namjoon finds his place in the corner of a café that a man named Min Yoongi works at. He speaks even when Namjoon doesn't reply, and it becomes mutually beneficial. Namjoon feels he finally filled a meaningful space in someone's life again, and Yoongi has someone to talk to about snarky customers. It works. Namjoon reads, and Yoongi makes coffee.
His throat hurts after he tries to say "goodbye" at the end of June.
-
The most memorable time they meet is one special to Yoongi. Yoongi has been working at this café since before he graduated high school, and never went to college. He plans to work here for many more years to come, maybe do something with it later on. He wants to start up a little corner shoppe of his own, make it all clean and tidy, he wants it to be cute.
Yoongi would know nothing about all these desires if it weren't for Namjoon.
Of course, it's not like Namjoon has said anything. He never does, Yoongi begins to think he never will by the time the boy starts college. However, Namjoon does a great job of letting Yoongi talk. Speaking out loud allows Yoongi to sort out his mental process a bit better, and Namjoon always looks so supportive and motions for Yoongi to carry on when he begins to stutter and get shy. With time, the cactus attire Yoongi wears for protection comes off around Namjoon, and he expresses his thanks through coffee out of his own paycheck along with a table under reservation.
Namjoon, although quiet, is charming. Yoongi doesn't believe he's seen eyes sparkle the way Namjoon's do, as cheesy as it sounds. They outshine even Jeongguk's, a kid who studies law and the kid Yoongi tries to forget.
Ever since Namjoon walked into the café, Yoongi thinks he's doing a good job of forgetting.
"You're writing?"
Namjoon always has his computer in front of him when he sits in his booth, long fingers pressing into the keys at varying speeds and pressures, depending on his mood. Yoongi watches his nod, hesitant but noticeable. When Namjoon glances up, he's startled by the sincerity packed into the smile he's met with.
"I can read it sometime, right?" Yoongi asks, forearms leaning against the smooth counter he works behind nearly every day.
Namjoon is fond of dawn, its full of pretty colors breaking through the twilight he's come familiar with, blinded in a dark room he's always awake in. Right now, it's dusk, the light is brighter than it is at the beginning of the day, Namjoon's not used to it. Where Yoongi stands behind the counter, surrounded by walls of glass, allows his skin to reflect hues of purple, pink and some orange. It's not the peaceful morning, but Namjoon thinks he can play pretend.
His throat is too dry, so he nods. Yoongi grins, and returns to wiping the counter.
-
Namjoon's mother is still worried about him. His sister worries the most. Honestly, they probably should have given up on him a long time ago: not even the therapy helped the mental block Namjoon put in place after his father died.
The sessions had slowly drained their wealth. Namjoon's family had not been rich, but they were comfortable before he had gotten so selfish. Eventually, they had moved from their home and downsized to something smaller. They still lived fine, but sometimes Namjoon misses how they could eat at a table away from the kitchen, and plant new flowers in the spring. He misses their old neighbors, the ones he ran food over too on Holidays and the ones that complimented him with every centimeter he grew. No one was ever lonely where they used to live.
Being alone is nice too, though. Until it isn't and Namjoon's brain begins to challenge its own morals. That's when his habit in returning to the coffee shop, and his addiction with Yoongi's voice, begins.
When Namjoon walks in for the first time of their third year of being friends, he hears about Jeongguk for the first time. The story begins with the kid brushing past him at the door, and Yoongi refusing to act like something just happened. Namjoon listens to him, though. He learns the tale by observing, and kindly smiling when Yoongi looks his way.
What he soon learns is that Jeongguk had too many needs.
"He's not a bad kid." Yoongi makes sure to stress this point, his bias towards him clear. While there's nothing there romantically for the both of them anymore, there's something. Undoubtedly, they're drawn together one way or another.
"It sounds really stupid, right?" Yoongi laughs, the notes dry and sad. He's trying to be sarcastic, but the edges of his voice are too rough, too depressed. They broke up a week before their anniversary.
Namjoon shakes his head, vibrations in his throat too quiet for his hum to be heard.
Yoongi leans forward, he's on his break and sitting across from Namjoon like he always does. Hat thrown on the table top and apron falling off his shoulders, Yoongi looks like a kid taking a snack break in the middle of playing dress up. It's endearing, and Namjoon reminds himself how lucky he is to have such a cute friend. "He came by to ask me for help with song composition, on a deadline. Kid can't keep his grades up for shit -- " With a sigh, he throws himself back into the seat, glancing out the window. "When does your class start?"
Namjoon can always borrow notes from someone else later. With a sheepish smile, one so rare, he shrugs, and readjusts his position in his seat. He continues to click around on his laptop, Yoongi watching him with a mirroring smile of his own.
"I made some ugly cookies last night after a smoke," Yoongi hums, his attitude much happier now. "They taste a'right, want me to bring you some?"
They probably taste like shit. Namjoon throws him a thumb up anyways. Yoongi continues to talk about things that don't really matter, but it's important because it keeps them both sane in this dying coffee shop.
-
When Namjoon meets Hoseok on campus, he's single again. Jimin went to a college out of town, following Taehyung into a radiology program. They are planning to work in the same hospital. Namjoon knows Jimin, knows him the best. He'll do just fine.
They sit for lunch together, and Hoseok doesn't use his hands to speak anymore. He's forgotten, but Namjoon doesn't need it to communicate. After all, with Yoongi, he's done just fine. This is not the same as high school, doesn't feel like it. Hoseok looks a lot more mature, and uses words Namjoon remembers him learning in their books they used to read together. Namjoon follows along, slowly taps the table.
His smile is the same but Namjoon doesn't feel it like he used to. Crushes do go away after all, Namjoon guesses. It's a relief.
They exchange numbers before parting ways.
-
Yoongi rethinks going to school. Getting to the top would be a lot easier if he enrolls, gets some sort of degree. These days, lanky adult children with empty hands don't get chances, no matter how full their head may be. He's leaning against his work counter, features eclipsed in shadows as he taps on his phone, researching. It's late and the bell to the door chimes. Yoongi already knows who it is.
He turns off the phone the display before Namjoon gets nosy, and greets him with the same question he does every day. This is Yoongi's favorite part of his shift.
"Classes going okay?"
Though looking a little lost, Namjoon answers like always. His chin lifts from its inquisitive position, and his smile is brighter. Maybe it's not, but Yoongi likes to think it gets bigger every day. Namjoon has come a long way since their friendship started, and so has Yoongi. In a way, they helped each other without doing anything at all.
Namjoon sits his bag down, and leaves an empty chair pulled out for Yoongi to join. And he does, with two cups of coffee and questions ready. Wetting his lips, the older man folds his hands within his lap, and swallows down his pride with a flushed complexion. "Can you help me?"
Using Namjoon's laptop, they look through the majors at a small community college together. Yoongi begins writing down all the important numbers, and glances at his bank account after. He thanks Namjoon with another cup of coffee, along with those cookies he had promised.
They taste as bad as expected, but Namjoon still eats half the bag by the end of the week.