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They bump into each other while waiting for the elevator in their apartment building: Seokjin, Jimin, and Jungkook merry from a night out drinking; Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon drained from another day in their respective studios. One trio loud and boisterous, red in the face and infuriatingly clingy, the other quiet, somber, and just plain exhausted.
“J-Hoooooope,” Seokjin screeches, arms wide open, as he makes a beeline for a smiling but tired-looking Hoseok. Hoseok spreads his arms and readies himself for the inevitable bone-crushing hug that always comes with a drunk Seokjin. It’s fine, he’s used to this.
“Seok-ah, I’m so glad you’re a member of this team. You’re important, okay? I love you, I appreciate you. I love you. Please remember that.”
Ah yes. The other thing about drunk Seokjin is that he also gets overly sentimental and starts complimenting everyone before blacking out. It’s honestly a little embarrassing but nobody has the heart to tell him to stop. And besides, this is the only time the members get to see a Seokjin with all his protective walls down.
“Mmnk you mhyung,” Hoseok mumbles into Seokjin’s jacket as Seokjin smothers him in a firm embrace.
Jimin is bent over wheezing behind Seokjin, arm slung lazily around Jungkook’s waist, and making some sort of sound one would usually associate with a mouse. It’s squeaky and adorable, just like him. Jungkook just looks on with his mouth open in silent laughter, supporting Jimin with one arm and slapping his shoulder with the other. Even though he’s mostly sober, being the only one underage, he still laughs like he’s had too much to drink anyway.
By the time Jimin recovers and is standing up straight, or as straight as he can get with that much alcohol in his system, Seokjin has moved on to hugging Namjoon, who receives his hug good-naturedly and with a fond smile.
“Joon-ah. Namjoon. Our leader. My dongsaeng. My friend. You are so strong and so good to us. Stop worrying so much, hyung is here to protect you. I appreciate you.” Seokjin stumbles forward and ends up resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulders, arms loose around his waist, hot breath on his neck. “I love you, don’t forget that.”
Namjoon blushes, the way he always does whenever Seokjin gets like this. Hoseok looks at him like he should be used to it by now but Namjoon only recently got over the crush he had on this hyung since they first met and these outbursts still get to him, so he shrugs and rubs a hand on Seokjin’s broad back. “Thanks hyung. I love you, too.”
Seokjin smiles at him, eyelids barely open but pleased at the response. A drunk Seokjin also loves being coddled.
Right when he’s about to move on to Yoongi, the elevator dings and they all shuffle in noisily. Hoseok is the only one who spots Yoongi’s shoulders sagging in relief. Seokjin and Jimin argue about who’s had more to drink but they slur their words too much to actually understand one another and end up talking over the other and saying the same things over and over again. Jungkook can’t stop laughing and lets go of Jimin to slide down one corner of the elevator, clutching his stomach. Jimin, too tipsy to stand on his own, leans into Yoongi’s back as he asserts his sobriety over Seokjin.
Hoseok notes the slight redness on Jungkook’s neck, the kind of flush that only comes with an encounter with soju. Maybe Jungkook isn’t that sober after all.
“Hyung, did you let Jungkook drink? He’s not allowed to drink yet,” Hoseok admonishes.
“Of course not!” Seokjin yelps, voice far too loud for such a small space. “I know he’s underage, what kind of parent do you think I am, Jung Hoseok!”
Hoseok turns to Jungkook, who wilts under his gaze and raises his fist with his forefinger and thumb an inch away from each other, the universal hand gesture for just a little. Hoseok sighs. He’s going to have to talk to them about drinking in public. Again.
It’s only after they’ve stepped into their apartment and exchanged inebriated partners (Hoseok takes Jimin from Yoongi, Namjoon pulls Jungkook to him, Yoongi begrudgingly leads Seokjin to their room) that Seokjin perks up like he’s seen Yoongi for the first time.
“Yoongi! Yooooongi! My roommate,” he coos as he slings a heavy arm over Yoongi’s shoulders. Yoongi winces and Hoseok pities him for a second. Out of everyone in Bangtan, it’s Yoongi who gets affected the most by Seokjin’s alcohol-induced affection.
“Yoongichii, you know I love you, right? I really love you. You work so hard and never give yourself a break. Please stop sleeping in the studio. Sleep with me, come home to me. I love you.”
At Seokjin’s words, the pity melts away and Hoseok smirks at the way Yoongi’s entire face and ears turn a fierce pink. Despite his constant denials, Yoongi is so easy to read; his body betrays him every time. Seokjin is still muttering compliments into Yoongi’s candy-colored hair but they’re already entering their own room and Hoseok has to deal with a sleepy and weepy Jimin.
A short while later, after he’s tucked Jimin into bed and taken away Taehyung’s Nintendo to force him to sleep, Hoseok checks on Jungkook and Namjoon to make sure they both got into bed without hurting themselves. Drunk Jungkook is almost as clumsy as everyday Namjoon, after all. Once he’s confirmed that they’re both asleep, he knocks on the eldest members’ door twice before opening it without waiting for an answer, a decision he’ll regret for years to come.
“Hyu—,” Hoseok freezes.
There, on Seokjin’s bed, is Yoongi trapped under the weight of Seokjin’s boxer-clad form, Seokjin’s mouth attached to Yoongi’s neck, hips slowly rolling against Yoongi’s (thankfully, still clothed) thigh.
The moment their eyes meet, Yoongi pushes Seokjin off of him and sits up, eyes wide in alarm. “It’s not what you think. I was just trying to—,”
“Yoongi,” Seokjin moans as he lays himself over Yoongi’s back and reattaches his lips to Yoongi’s shoulder.
Hoseok notices the mark on Yoongi’s neck is already darkening and can’t help the smile that creeps on his face even as he wants to claw his eyes out, and says, “Use protection.”
“Jin, get off. Seok, it’s not like that!” Yoongi stands, dropping Seokjin back onto the bed, but Hoseok can see the bulge in his pants and he wants to laugh. He closes the door on Yoongi’s mortified expression and Seokjin’s tirade of I love you’s, presumably directed at Yoongi. He’s going to have to talk to them about using alcohol as an unhealthy substitute for proper communication. Again. He’s been the victim of his hyungs’ grievances about unrequited feelings one too many times. Enough is enough.
~
Yoongi’s vision is spinning. His eyes strain on the screen in front of him but don’t really see anything. He relies instead on muscle memory, trusting his finger to press the right keys he’s come to know so well. Ctrl+C, ctrl+V. Listen. Delete. Choose a different sample. Ctrl+C, ctrl+V. Rinse. Repeat.
He’s aware that he’s been at this for hours but he honestly doesn’t know how long it’s exactly been since he arrived that afternoon, losing all sense of time whenever he holes up in his Genius Lab. He skips meals and forgoes sleep, only taking breaks when his bladder absolutely can no longer hold it in, and sustains himself on caffeine and nicotine. If it weren’t for their managers, or his members, or other Big Hit staff coming in to remind him to eat or go home, Yoongi’d probably never leave his studio until he finishes an entire album’s worth of songs.
His head is swimming in discordant beats and unfinished melodies when he feels a weight on his shoulder and startles. He looks up to find Seokjin smiling down at him.
“I brought you food. Looks like you didn’t eat at all today.”
Yoongi breathes in the aroma from the containers Seokjin is opening one by one and salivates. The clock tells him it’s been ten hours since he last had a proper meal and the pain in his stomach, something akin to the ulcer he had a few months ago, suddenly makes sense. He puts his computer on standby and scoots his chair over to the area of his desk where Seokjin placed the dishes that would save his life.
“Do you want me to wait for you?”
Yoongi looks up again and finds that his eyes can’t focus on Seokjin. He blinks hard to clear his vision but it only aggravates the headache he’s apparently been nursing for hours now, and there are now three Seokjins floating in front of him.
“Hyung, why are there so many of you?”
Yoongi’s throat itches and he sounds like he’s been smoking for forty years but he assumes it’s just from lack of use.
“What? Shit, your hands are shaking.”
Seokjin’s right. His hands are shaking. In fact, his whole body is vibrating and heating up, as if it only just caught up with the fact that Yoongi had been working himself to his limit the past few days and is finally fighting all the germs and viruses in full force, sending him into shock.
“How many cups of coffee have you had?” Seokjin is almost hysterical.
“Too many. I need. I need to go—woah,” Yoongi stands up but sways in place, the room tilting and bringing him down with it. He loses balance and falls sideways. Fortunately, Seokjin grabs him in time.
“Shit. Stay here and tell me what you need. I’ll go get it for you. Yoongi,” Seokjin pleads. “Please, just tell me what you need.”
Something in Seokjin’s voice, a pitch that resembles concern and ache, steadies him a bit. He faces Seokjin, all three of them, and tries to focus on the parts of his roommate’s face he loves the most, the ones that calm him every time he feels bile rise up his throat during those moments when his anxiety overrun his logic.
He cups Seokjin’s face with both hands, the middle Seokjin, the real and solid one, and trails his eyes over his forehead, eyebrows, eyes, nose, philtrum. When he settles on those plush lips at last, the room has stopped spinning altogether and his heart is now pounding for an entirely different reason.
“Hyung.”
“Yoongi?”
What was it Hoseok said a couple weeks ago? Something about using your words? Or was it choosing your words carefully? Or was it using alcohol to loosen the tongue? No, wait, he said not to do that. Whatever, Yoongi thinks. He’s here now with Seokjin in front of him, soft cheeks cradled in his palms, and he realizes that all he needs to get better, to be better, is Seokjin. Yoongi wants nothing more than to sate his hunger and take those lips for himself.
So he does.
For, like, a second before he comes back to his senses and he springs a good two feet away from Seokjin, setting the room to spin again. They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity until Yoongi’s legs give way and he falls down onto his chair and twirls to face the food on his desk in an attempt to hide what he assumes is his already crimson face.
“Uhm, do you wan—”
“Thanks for the food, hyung. I don’t think I’ll need anything else.”
He feels Seokjin’s gaze hot on the back of his neck before he hears the door swing open and click shut. He takes a deep breath and buries his head in his hands. What the hell just happened?
Yoongi decides to stay at the studio for a few more hours after he finishes the food and only goes back to the dorm when his body is screaming for him to stop and rest. When he enters his room, he doesn’t notice the snap of a phone being locked or the soft whisper of his name from the bed opposite his. He disregards the possibility of Seokjin waiting up for him to come home because that would be ridiculous, of course he wouldn’t. So he chalks it up to his imagination, his sleep-deprived delusion when the voice he’s come to love asks him if he’s alright. He grunts, falls into his bed, and is out like a light.
~
“Nice. Let’s just do one more take for good measure,” Yoongi says into the mic. On the other side of the glass, Seokjin gives him a thumbs up and sings the first lines of a new song Yoongi had worked tirelessly on for the past month.
Like those dead leaves there that have fallen and are flying
My love is collapsing without strength
“Great. Let’s move on to the chorus.”
It goes on like this for another half hour, Yoongi directing Seokjin on how he wants the emotion of the verses to turn out, and Seokjin following diligently. He even makes him sing a few lines assigned to other members, “just in case Hyowon hyung and Bang PD will consider it. You never know.”
Seokjin is grateful. It was awkward when he first approached Yoongi after receiving the lyrics and guide for the new track to ask for the opening verse. The big producers almost always choose Jungkook or Jimin to start a song and he knew that even if Yoongi said yes, it was still likely that his lines would go to Jungkook.
The tension that had been building between them for the last few months also didn’t help.
But he really wanted to start a song of theirs for once. They’d been active for a couple of years now and Seokjin thought that he had improved enough in the vocal department to be able to lead one of their more ballad-like tracks. His vocal coach also praised him and said he could record a solo single if he were confident enough. That felt a tad bit excessive, and it’s not like such a thing would ever be approved for the actual album, but the opening verse could be achievable.
When he asked Yoongi, the younger looked surprised then shrugged and said if his voice fit, then why not.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. Good job, hyung. You worked hard.”
“Thanks. You too.”
It’s quiet in the studio but Seokjin swears Yoongi can hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest because there it is again, that slight coloring in his cheeks when they lock eyes. It’s been getting more and more difficult to ignore the signs that Yoongi has been unconsciously sending him but the idiot rapper, the person who keeps bragging about sending men and women to Hong Kong with his tongue, doesn’t ever say anything. And Seokjin hates to assume things but he also just wants to be able to wrap his arms around that small body without the excuse of having drowned himself in alcohol and is therefore not able to think straight (to be honest, he hasn’t been straight for a very long time).
Seokjin stands by the door, his hand hesitating above the doorknob, contemplating on whether he should talk to Yoongi now or save it for later when they’re in the confines of their room. Hoseok told him that all they needed to do was talk things out, sober, and the complications would untangle by themselves. Of course everything Hoseok said Seokjin already knew but it was a good reminder to hear it from someone else.
Every time he so much as hinted at addressing the elephant in the room, however, Yoongi would bolt. He did everything to avoid having that conversation with Seokjin that Seokjin just kind of gave up. The only time Yoongi ever relaxes around him now is when they’re surrounded by other people or when it’s obvious that he’s under the influence and won’t remember anything the next day (it’s a ruse, Seokjin remembers everything).
But here, in the studio, Yoongi has nowhere to run. The other members still need to record their lines and surely Yoongi isn’t one to abandon his responsibilities just to avoid him, right?
Seokjin glances at his watch and is surprised to find he still has about twenty minutes left of his allotted time to record. He frowns.
“Yoongi, don’t you think we rushed through some lines? Are you sure I’m done recording?”
Yoongi’s eyes never leave the computer screen. “It’s fine, hyung. You can go.”
“You’re being unprofessional,” Seokjin huffs, knowing just how petty he sounds.
“How am I being unprofessional? Finishing early just means you sang well and didn’t need more than one take. You should give yourself a pat on the back.”
“No.” Seokjin stalks to loom over where Yoongi is sitting, his overbearing presence provoking Yoongi to look up at him. “I think that last take sounded a bit off. Let’s listen to it again.”
Yoongi glares at him, ears already coloring a faint pink, and pushes a button. The last take, a mere five-second background vocal, plays and stops. Yoongi plays it again and again and again without ever taking his eyes off Seokjin’s. Seokjin is rooted to his spot, not hearing the recording at all but instead swimming in all the words he wants to say but is too arrested to do so.
That’s another reason why they haven’t had the talk. Whenever Yoongi looks at him, Seokjin freezes. He knows Yoongi likes him, feels it in his gut, sees it in the way Yoongi reacts to his every move, but doubt has always had a way of worming itself into the deepest crevices in Seokjin’s brain, and all those years of hiding himself from the world for fear of rejection has him considering the very real possibility that Yoongi might also reject him. That maybe he’s just become uncomfortable around Seokjin, what with Taehyung’s constant teasing of them acting like an old married couple, which is why he blushes all the time they’re even next to each other. Unlike Namjoon, who warmed up to Seokjin immediately, Yoongi took his time to open up to the oldest member and only became truly friendly after they debuted. Then they caught feelings and it was back to being awkward.
“Have you listened enough, your majesty?” Yoongi’s words are dripping with venom and Seokjin feels it sting his skin and sink into his bloodstream.
“Why are you so mad at me?” Seokjin’s voice is barely a whisper.
The change in Yoongi’s expression is so laughably instant that Seokjin would have snorted if the situation weren’t so tense.
“I- I don’t hate you?”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I don’t hate you.”
Seokjin is pretty sure his neck is about as red as a tomato by now but he has to power through. He’s finally gotten Yoongi to talk and if he doesn’t start the conversation now, he’ll lose this chance forever.
“Then why have you been avoiding me, Yoongi? You never hang out with me anymore. I know you’re busy producing songs for us but you never have dinner with me when I call for you nowadays. You hardly sleep in our room. Whenever I approach you, you flinch. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
Seokjin reaches out and takes one of Yoongi’s hands into his own and Yoongi actually flinches. It’s cold and damp but his own hands are shaking so he doesn’t call Yoongi out on it.
“I think we need to talk about this proper—”
The door bursts open and Hoseok is there with a cup of coffee in one hand and lyrics sheets in the other. His gaze immediately falls on their linked hands. “Oh, did I interrupt something?”
“Yes,” Seokjin says at the same time Yoongi blurts out, “No!”
“Ah,” Hoseok says then smiles. “Seokjin-hyung, are you drunk?” Seokjin shakes his head. “Yoongi-hyung, are you sick?”
“What?”
“No, you’re not. Well, my bros. I might have arrived a bit too early. Say,” he brings up his watch, “maybe thirty minutes too early? Yeah, I’ll be back in thirty then. Enjoy!”
He wiggles his brows at Seokjin before closing the door, leaving the two in the silence of the studio. Seokjin appreciates Hoseok sacrificing his time in the booth but he also doesn’t know how to bring back the conversation he only just began. Yoongi is back to staring at his keyboard. Maybe this isn’t the right time after all.
He sighs, releases Yoongi’s hand and says, “Never mind. I’ll see you at the dorm.”
He’s moving towards the door when he hears the clutter of a chair and feels a tug on the back of his jumper.
“Seokjin.”
Seokjin’s breath hitches.
“I don’t hate you. I’m just. Scared.”
“You don’t have to be.”
He turns around slowly, afraid of frightening Yoongi away like the panicked woodland creature that he is. Yoongi’s head is bowed and Seokjin can see where his roots are starting to show. The stylists are going to have to dye his hair again soon.
“I wanted you to sing it.”
“…what?”
“The song.” Yoongi points to the general direction of the sound equipment behind him. “When I was writing it, I wanted to compose something that would best suit your voice.”
“Oh.” Seokjin just stands there, staring at Yoongi’s roots, not knowing how to react to what Yoongi just said. “You wrote it for me?”
Yoongi shrugs. “You told me once that you wanted to open one of our songs. I felt like you deserved it.” He peeks at Seokjin through his bangs before lowering his eyes back down, then murmurs, “You deserve the world.”
Seokjin’s jaw drops. Did Yoongi really say what he thinks he said? He feels his stomach churn and his chest tighten. He’s elated but so damn nervous at the same time. God he hates how Yoongi makes him feel so out of control with just a few words.
Yoongi is waiting for his response. He can see it in the tension in his shoulders and the balled fists at his sides, in the way he’s fidgeting in place. He’s got to say something, anything, before Yoongi decides that speaking up was a bad idea and takes it all back.
He gently nudges Yoongi’s arm and chuckles. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me, you know.”
“Yeah, probably.” Yoongi lifts his head and there’s a small, shy smile playing on his lips. Seokjin memorizes it, uses it as fuel to give him courage to say what he has to say next.
“You probably already know this because I tell you this all the time but I like you. Like, a lot. It’s weird and I don’t know when it began but. I like you, even in the mornings when you’re at your grumpiest. And that’s saying a lot. In fact, I could say I’m in luh… In lo… In llllloooooov…”
Yoongi just stands grinning widely, obviously there enjoying his struggle. “Yes?”
“Okay, maybe I can’t say it right now but give me five bottles of soju and I’ll shout it to all of Seoul.”
They laugh, the suffocating atmosphere of feelings long kept suppressed dissipating with every shake of their shoulders and rumble of their voices. Yoongi surprises him by stepping closer and taking his hands, the calluses on his fingers rough but comforting on Seokjin’s skin.
“It’s fine, I understand. I’m, uhm, the same.”
Seokjin giggles. “I know. I’ve known for a while. Why are we so shit at communicating? No wonder Hoseok’s always on our asses.”
Right at that moment, there’s a slam at the door and Hoseok’s sing-song voice floats through the cracks. “Are you guys done?”
“Speak of the devil,” Yoongi says, amused.
“I’d love to give you more time but Hyowon hyung just passed by and asked why I wasn’t inside. I think he’s going to check on us any second. You better clean up any mess you’ve made. Nobody wants to see any stains!”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Seok-ah, just shut up. We’ll be done in a minute.”
“I think we’ll have to continue this at the dorm,” Seokjin says to the boy in front of him, squeezing his hand in reassurance. “You will come home tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi squeezes back.
They don’t get to talk that night. Yoongi stays up late in the studio, working on his song, and Seokjin reads and rereads the last message he got from Yoongi, saying he’ll be late, until he can no longer keep his eyes open. In the early hours of the day, he’s woken up momentarily by someone crawling into his bed and under his covers, the shape vaguely familiar, something he’s only had the chance to hold without shame when intoxicated. There’s a grunt and an arm looping around his waist. He pulls the body closer and takes in the scent of dry sweat and cigarette smoke. There’s no hint of soju in the air, no burning heat of a fever. Just two people and their hopes and doubts and the promise that tomorrow they’ll still be there in each other’s arms.
~
“I heard it’s big enough for all of us to have our own rooms!” Jungkook says, buzzing in his seat with excitement.
“You already have your own room but you never even sleep there,” Jimin retorts.
“Yeah, because my room is basically a closet.”
“Because you own so many gadgets!”
“They’re not gadgets, Jimin, they’re sound equipment I need to make music!”
“Yah! I’m your hyung and you will address me as such!”
“Ugh,” Taehyung complains beside Hoseok. “Those kids are so loud.”
Hoseok flicks him gently on the forehead. “You’re still a kid too.”
They’re in the living room, waiting for Sejin to reveal the floor plan of the apartment they’ll be transferring to soon. Bangtan’s exponential rise in fame in 2017 opened doors to opportunities they never would have imagined a year ago. It also brought them a lot of stalkers, obsessed fans waiting outside their dorms day and night just to get a glimpse of them. It was getting harder to go out to meet friends or walk around without getting harassed and so their management decided to move them to a more secure area in Gangnam.
Sejin arrives with chicken and cola and they settle around the table, eyes glued to the photos in Sejin’s iPad. “There are only five rooms so some of you will have to share.”
“Not me!” Jungkook pipes up, greasy lips and all. Namjoon throws him a crumpled tissue paper.
They start discussing who gets a solo and who shares. After much screaming and burping in each other’s faces, they all agree to draw lots. Hoseok writes their names on strips of paper but Yoongi plucks his and Seokjin’s out of the pile before they can begin.
“There’s no need. We’ll share,” Yoongi says, all smug.
“Yah, Min Yoongi! How can you decide for me! What if I want a new roommate?” Seokjin shouts from the other end of the couch, half-eaten chicken wing between his fingers.
Yoongi just levels him with a stare. “I just bought a king-sized bed and a six-inch mattress. That’ll be plenty of space and soft enough for us, don’t you think? For our nightly… hobby.”
Everyone groans in unison. Seokjin only blushes.
“Gross! I’m never sleeping in your room!” Jungkook grouches.
Hoseok rolls his eyes. He loves his hyungs and he’s happy they trust them enough to be themselves but it can get too much when done too often. Just yesterday, Namjoon walked in on them making out in the kitchen, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink. He never knew their trusted leader could scream in embarrassment like that before. He sighs. He’ll have to talk to them about making the younger members uncomfortable with their excessive PDA. Again.