Chapter Text
It was the dead of winter when Jimin met Namjoon. A frigid wind tore straight through his layers of clothes, making him shiver even harder than before. He peered up at the bluish grey sky, wondering if it was an omen, mostly wondering where the hell this Kim Namjoon was. He had the key, so without him, Jimin was destined to sit here on his suitcase on the front step of the house and freeze to death.
It looked cute from the outside, at least. Painted pale yellow, small, old but fixed up nice. There were flower beds lining the front walkway, barren now, but he'd plant something come spring.
He heard Namjoon before he saw him, the telltale clack-a-clack of suitcase wheels down the sidewalk. Sure enough, a man rounds the corner, confusion on his face, a printout of a map in his hand. He looked nothing like Jimin expected. Jimin's not even sure what he expected.
He was tall, for one thing. And thin but...solid. Fluffy round ears quirked forward when he heard Jimin call out, “Kim Namjoon?”
He jerked his head up from the map and their eyes met. Tiny snowflakes began to flutter down.
Bulky in his thick coat, but Jimin raised his small hand in a hesitant wave, trying to fight down the weird catch in his throat.
“Sorry, I'm not good with directions, I never had to-” he shook his head to stop the sentence.
Jimin could see his hands shake as he crumpled up the map print out. Sympathy twinged at his heart and he gave him a smile. “It's okay. Let's go inside.”
Namjoon dug the key out of his pocket and fumbled it into the lock, nearly dropping it twice.
The old door creaked open and to Jimin's relief, it's nice enough inside too. Old and a bit dusty, and the hardwood floor squeak and groan when they walk inside, but it was warm, and there was a fireplace that seemed to work, and a kitchen already equipped with a fridge and stove.
Jimin shimmied out of his scarf and coat and boots and strolled around the place. It took him a minute to realize Namjoon wasn't doing the same.
Sticking his head out from the kitchen, he saw Namjoon still huddled by the front door, coat and gloves on still. Jimin could tell from across the room that he was shaking more violently than before.
“Namjoon? Are you okay?” he approached him slowly, bending to look up into the face Namjoon was trying to hide in his scarf.
“Sorry. I'm sorry. I've never- I'm not used to- um.”
“Where did you live before?” Jimin asked delicately.
“I- mostly at the boarding center. I had an owner once but he- he returned me,” he said softly. “Because I was too independent,” he chuckled. “Ironic, when here I am about to fall apart because I can barely take a bus across town by myself.”
Jimin grasped his arm in sympathy, feeling the shake of the tall hybrid.
“I'm sorry,” he exhaled. “I just... did so many things for the first time today.” He tried to say it brightly, but there was bitterness in his low voice.
“And you did a great job of it, hm? You made it here, and all there is for you to do today is make yourself at home, right?” Jimin smiled at him. And though Namjoon nodded, when Jimin moved away, Namjoon shied back to the door again.
“Here,” Jimin laughed, reaching up to unwind Namjoon's scarf from his neck, hanging it on the coat rack. Beneath the scarf was a thick, black leather collar. Jimin paused at that. Namjoon blushed, hands flying up to clap around it.
“Do you have to wear that still...?”
Hands around his neck, Namjoon shook his head. “No,” voice full of amazement. “No, I got my release papers signed before I came here so, no, no I can...”
Jimin could see the the battle between anxiety and relief in him, hands gripping at the collar to either rip it off or protect it.
“Do you want me to...?” Jimin reached up toward it, waiting for an answer.
Namjoon's eyes went wide and Jimin couldn't quite tell what it meant. But Namjoon finally released his grip on the collar and nodded. Jimin could feel him go a little stiff when Jimin's fingers started working at the thick belt of the collar, adam's apple bobbing against it.
“God, did you have to sleep in this? It seems so uncomfortable,” Jimin muttered, yanking the collar out of the little belt loops.
“You get used to it,” Namjoon whispered.
“There!” Jimin shouted as he finally pulled the collar free, holding it up for Namjoon to see before place it in his shaking hands.
Namjoon stared at it for a moment before rubbing at his tender neck. It must have meant a lot, but it seemed a small thing. A small, worn collar, a small moment back-dropped by ugly floral curtains and a creaky wooden door.
“Come on, let's go choose rooms,” Jimin suggested.
It took him a minute to hear him but Namjoon nodded, placing the collar on top of his suitcase and following Jimin down the hallway past the little kitchen.
“So, there's three rooms, we can make the extra one an office? Game room? Gym? I don't know what you're into,” Jimin laughed.
Namjoon shrugged like he wasn't sure either, following close behind Jimin as they went room to room, checking everything out.
“Well? Any preference?”
Namjoon bunched his shoulders up. “Nah, whichever you don't want I'll take.”
Jimin had suspected that kind of answer was coming. He chose the smaller room on purpose, citing the extra window as his reason.
They settled in, unpacking their suitcases in their rooms with the doors wide open, Jimin's phone in the hallway playing music for them. Jimin had a moving truck delivering more boxes and furniture the next morning. Namjoon did not.
“I would've sworn they said beds were included,” Jimin frowned in front of Namjoon's doorway, not looking forward to a night on the floor with his pillow and no blankets. “We'll have to go to a furniture store tomorrow I guess.”
“They- they're not bringing beds? They said there would be a bed,” Namjoon said, quietly panicking. “I don't- I don't have any money, I can't- I have to find a job, I-”
“Hey, hey it's okay,” Jimin stepped forward to Namjoon whose eyes were wide with fear, breath speeding up. “It's okay, it's your first day, you've got time.”
Namjoon shook his head, agitated. “I don't have time, I- I can't pay for anything, the program only pays for the first month of rent and food for me and I- no one wants to hire a hybrid and, and I want to start school next fall but I have to save up so much and I don't even have anything, not even a bed and-”
“Hey, hey. Here, come sit.” The lone piece of furniture provided outside the kitchen is a dingy pale pink two-seater sofa, cushions incredibly dented.
By the time they sit in it, Namjoon has calmed down, or simply allowed shame to reign him back in. “I'm sorry, this isn't your problem, you shouldn't have to deal with me being a wreck. I'm always a nuisance, I-”
That made Jimin frown, the way he said it. As if reciting what he'd been told before. Worse was the way the words really made Namjoon shove his (very rightful) fears and panic back down, ears flattening back against his sandy grey-brown hair.
“You don't have to be so nice. You don't even know me, you're not my- not my owner.” He flushed at his own words.
“Namjoon, it's really okay. I, um. I mean sure, the rent is a good bit cheaper for me by signing up for this hybrid roomies program but.” He considered all his reasons, all the pain that settled in his chest and wouldn't surface into words.
“The truth is,” The truth is, that the truth eluded words like a fish slipping through his hands to curl tighter around his bones. “The truth is I wanted a roommate. So I think it's alright if we rely a little on each other, y'know?”
Namjoon seemed to accept that, but there was reluctance all over his face. “I won't let you starve,” Jimin said bracingly. “And you'll find a job, and it'll be shitty because jobs suck, but you'll get money for a bed. We'll figure something out until then.”
Jimin gave him a firm clap to the shoulder and Namjoon tried to smile. His hands were still shaking.
Truthfully, Jimin had expected to have to help the hybrid he was paired with in the roommate program. That was half the point of the program, giving the newly liberated hybrids some semblance of support navigating a society they were never allowed to have a place in. It seems stupid now, but he hadn't expected the hybrid to be so... damaged. He just hadn't thought of it.
It planted a funny feeling in his chest, sympathy and awkwardness sure but, something else. Familiarity. It was like watching his own pain be mirrored in another body, another life, but this pain he actually had the power to help fix.
“So, let's distract you,” he proposed. “What do you like to do for fun?”
It takes a second, but Namjoon took the bait and set aside his anxieties. “Well, I like reading. And writing. And movies? Um. I think I'd like traveling but I've never done it before. Sorry, I'm boring I guess.”
Jimin gasped in fake dismay. “I like reading and movies too, I'm insulted,” he giggled.
That pulled a shy smile from Namjoon, who rubbed absently at his collar-free neck.
“So where do- hold on, do you want some hot tea? I brought some.”
Namjoon nodded, so Jimin jogged back to his suitcase and pulled out the plastic bag that he'd thrown the odds and ends contents of his old desk into.
He rinsed out a pot and filled it with water to boil. When he turned around, Namjoon was huddled close behind him like he didn't know where else to put his body.
“Oop,” Jimin chuckled, surprised at him hovering so close. He wondered if it was a hybrid thing or a Namjoon thing.
Embarrassed, he shrunk back into the doorway, but Jimin patted him on the arm.
“I have peppermint and one random packet of...peach tea,” Jimin holds out both options for Namjoon to choose, who pointed to peach.
“Well, there are mugs at least. Apparently they got as far as furnishing the kitchen and stopped.”
They waited for the water to boil and got to know each other a little, basic things. Well, Jimin got to know Namjoon, at least. Namjoon answered his questions, but it made him too shy to speak up until Jimin would coax him back out with another question.
It wasn't until they steeped their tea and shuffled back to the hideous couch that Namjoon finally spoke up. “Do you know what I am?” he asked shyly, flicking at his fluffy ears.
“Mm... Koala?”
Namjoon looked pleased that he guessed right, fingers wrapped tight around his mug with a little smile.
“That's cute. I've never- oh, sorry! Is it rude to tell hybrids that they're cute? I don't-”
Namjoon shook his head. “Is it rude to tell humans that they're cute?” he retorted, smile tilted up to him.
Flustered, Jimin just shook his head. “Is that rare? I've never seen a koala hybrid, I think.”
He nodded. “I was a custom birth. But, whoever requested it didn't like my 'look', so I was sent to the group facility, and grew up there.”
“That's awful,” Jimin breathed.
Namjoon nodded like he agreed and shrugged. “I'm glad I was born, though,” he offered lightly, as if needing to find the positive of the situation for the thousandth time.
That night, Jimin laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling of his new bedroom, listening to the sound of Namjoon crying in the living room until he couldn't stand it anymore.
As soon as Jimin shuffled cautiously into the living room, Namjoon scrambled to compose himself, sitting up straight and wiping his tears. He cowered back against the couch and rushed out a “sorry, I'm sorry, you don't have to- I'm sorry I woke you up I-”
“What's wrong?” he interrupted.
“Nothing,” he said after considering a moment. “There's nothing wrong but me.” The attempted laugh just came out as another sob. “I've um. I've never slept alone before. And- and I hate how much I hate it,” he wails silently into the balled up scarf he was using for a pillow. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, I was the over-independent hybrid, the hybrid always in trouble for being too outspoken about being liberated. And I can't- I can't do anything alone,” he sobbed. “Maybe I was wrong about the whole thing, maybe hybrids really weren't meant for this.”
“No, hey, you know that's not true. It's okay to not be good at all this right away, you know it is.” He sat on the couch beside Namjoon and waited until he got his tears under control.
“I bet you regret this whole thing so much right now,” Namjoon sniffled.
“I really don't,” Jimin answered honestly. “I can sleep in here if you want. Floor here or floor in my room, what's the difference,” he laughed.
“You don't have to do that.” His tone was half guilty and half hopeful.
“Honestly, I don't like sleeping alone much either.” Don't much like sleeping at all, he thought, but that was harder to explain.
Namjoon reluctantly accepted the offer, scooting up the small couch, insisting that Jimin should share it instead of sleeping on the hard floor.
They fell asleep with their feet wedged up beside each other in the crack of the sofa, covered in coats instead of blankets, hoping tomorrow brings them a bit of ease.