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It takes a moment for Seokjin to realize he’s awake. His eyes peel open, slightly puffy and very groggy as he takes in the dark, still room. The side of his face is squished into his pillow, his body limp and relaxed as he sprawls on the mattress. He takes a deep breath through his nose and rolls onto his back, shifting a few times to get comfortable.
For a moment he listens to the quiet, sleep easily pulling him back into its clutches as he lets the exhaustion re-enter his body. For a moment, the house is completely still. All he can hear is the refrigerator running in the distance and the sound of his own steady breaths.
He lets himself relax and he’s just about to doze off again when he hears a voice, so small and quiet, yet strikingly clear against the dead silence of the night.
“Jin?”
His eyes open immediately and he sits up, leaning back on his arm and blinking the fog out of his eyes as he tries to squint through the darkness of his room. “Kookie?” He asks, his voice breaking in a half-whisper half-mumble, rough from sleep.
There’s a moment of silence, and Jungkook stays planted to the floor, somewhere near the door, Seokjin’s guessing.
“...No.” Not-Jungkook answers hesitantly, and Seokjin’s eyes go wide as the voice registers in his sleep-muddled brain.
“Joonie?” He whispers, glancing at the clock. “What are you doing? It’s.... Three in the morning.”
Namjoon’s form comes into view as Seokjin’s eyes finally start adjusting to the dark. His outline is framed against the door where he stands, still and quiet. Even in Seokjin’s sleepy state he can feel something weird coming from him, radiating off his slouched form. Something’s wrong.
Namjoon doesn’t answer his question and Seokjin sits up properly, running a hand through his hair. He can’t see Namjoon’s face in the dark, but he tries anyway.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
Namjoon doesn’t move, nor does he answer. Seokjin watches him shift his weight from one leg to the other, arms fumbling with something in front of his chest. He can’t tell what it is, but it looks like he’s holding onto something. A pillow, maybe.
Silence stretches between them for longer than Seokjin has patience for at 3AM, but something about the situation keeps him quiet. It’s a little unnerving to see their leader standing there, looking small and scared; a lot like Jungkook after one of his nightmares. Namjoon never comes into his room at late hours like this. Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, definitely. Hoseok, Occasionally. Yoongi? Rare, but sometimes.
Namjoon? Never.
“Joon? What’s the matter?” He tries again, whispering loud enough so he knows the other hears him.
Namjoon fidgets more, shifting his weight. The floorboards creak under his bare feet and he glances back at the door as if he’s fighting not to run away. Seokjin can hear him holding his breath, hesitating. Stalling.
Seokjin waits.
Finally, after minutes of silence, Namjoon finds his voice. He speaks so quietly, so so softly. “C-could I... “
Seokjin can hear the nerves in his voice as it shakes. Namjoon ducks his head and musters up the courage to try again. “Could I… with you…”
And Seokjin, being stupid and tired and losing all his tact in his foggy sleep-brain, he asks, “Why?”
The question seems to destroy what little resolve the Namjoon had and he starts to retreat immediately, mumbling apologies as he fumbles for the door.
Seokjin quickly throws the blankets off himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Wait, wait, Namjoon- I’m sorry, I didn’t- hey, wait,” he protests as he reaches him in long strides. He places a gentle hand on Namjoon’s arm that holds onto the door. From this close, he can see more of Namjoon’s face. He’s looking at the floor, but Seokjin can still see the frown on his lips and the pinch of his eyebrows.
“What’s the matter?” he asks again, dropping his voice down into a whisper. Namjoon’s head stays ducked down with his eyes glued to the floor.
Namjoon’s dressed in sweatpants and an old t-shirt Seokjin can’t make out the color of in the dark. He has one of his Ryan plushies hugged firmly to his chest, his hands fidget with it in a fit of anxiety. He pulls at his ears and his arms as he strokes it, gripping the toy over and over like a stress ball. Seokjin’s heart swells with affection. If he weren’t so concerned, he would definitely be cooing at how cute Namjoon is being.
Namjoon swallows and takes deep breaths, struggling to find his bravery. Seokjin finds his patience though and he rubs gently at Namjoon’s arm as he waits for a response.
Minutes go by of Namjoon standing, silent and wary, and Seokjin becomes afraid they’re going to be there all night.
Namjoon surprises him though, and he finally gets out a coherent sentence, whispering through the small space between them. He shrinks in on himself as he speaks.
“Can I sleep here with you?”
He sounds so hesitant and so apprehensive that Seokjin is nodding immediately; he doesn’t dare to tease or joke like he would with anyone else.
“Of course.”
He leads the way back to his bed and climbs in, scooching over to the side he usually doesn’t sleep on that’s pressed against the wall. Namjoon shuffles close behind him, feet tapping on the floor in little steps.
Seokjin smiles at him reassuringly, even though he’s pretty sure Namjoon can’t see him through the dark.
Namjoon climbs carefully into the right side of the bed, pulling up the covers as he slides his legs in and settles his head on the pillow. Seokjin watches him closely as he turn on his side, arms folded tightly over the Ryan plushie.
Seokjin feels something uneasy in his chest. He knows there’s still something there, something unresolved, but Namjoon is quiet and still, so maybe sleep is what they both need right now. Maybe he should just ask Namjoon in the morning, if need be.
He settles into his side of the double bed, willing the cold, unused sheets to warm up as he breaks in the pillow and tries to get comfortable. A few minutes go by and Seokjin listens for Namjoon’s steady breath. He’s so quiet and still it’s almost as though there’s nobody there.
His eyes close slowly, breathing out a long slow breath to relax his body and settle in. The silent minutes that pass are nothing if not a little tense, but Seokjin tries to let go of his concern and give Namjoon have the privacy he needs.
His worry lingers, though. Images of Namjoon standing at his doorway, hugging a stuffed toy to his chest flash through his mind and sprout an itching curiosity.
Eventually, he manages to quiet his thoughts. He focuses on his own steady breathing and the way the mattress cushions his body. The sheets warm up easily with two people in the bed and he lets the warmth lull him back to drowsiness.
Just as he can feel sleep’s hold start to pull him under again, he hears the same voice from before. Quiet, careful, soft. A little scared.
“Jin?”
He cracks an eye open. “Yeah?”
Silence follows.
“...Nothing.”
Seokjin sighs. “Yah, Joonie. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Sorry,” Namjoon says instead, sounding so small.
Seokjin turns and faces him. He searches for Namjoon’s face in the dark, but can only see the faintest outline of his lips and his nose. The frown is still there, small and a little pouty.
The worry Seokjin tried to extinguish flickers back to life.
“What’s bothering you? You can just tell me, Namjoon. I won’t make fun of you,” he promises, hoping with all his might that Namjoon believes him.
Namjoon hesitates, but Seokjin can tell he’s considering it.
“What is it?” Seokjin urges softly.
Another moment of silence stretches between them and for a second Seokjin thinks he’s lost and Namjoon really isn’t going to tell him.
But then a small sniffle reaches his ears, followed by another.
“I don’t know,” Namjoon whispers, his voice wet. “I-it just hurts.”
Seokjin’s heart aches and clenches painfully in his chest. “What hurts?” he asks gently, blindly reaching for Namjoon’s forehead and stroking some of the hair out of his eyes. It falls right back into place but he keeps his fingers light in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.
“Everything,” Namjoon breathes around a choked sob. He brings the Ryan plushie up to cover his mouth as his shoulders shake with quiet sobs he coughs and swallows. His hands squeeze and pull roughly at the doll’s limbs and ears.
Seokjin has never felt the need to hold someone so strongly before. He doesn’t fight it. He shuffles over into Namjoon’s space and takes the plushie from Namjoon’s fidgeting hands. The small noise of despair Namjoon makes as his source of comfort is pulled away from him makes Seokjin’s heart throb, but he quickly sets the plushie down on the now abandoned left side of the bed and replaces Ryan with himself in Namjoon’s arms, tucking the younger under his chin and against his chest.
Namjoon quiets down seconds later with the exception of occasional wet sniffles as he lies unresponsive in Seokjin’s embrace.
They stay like that for a few minutes, neither of them move or say anything as Namjoon’s sniffling fades into soft breaths. Seokjin calms down at the feeling of Namjoon’s heartbeat against his chest, feeling him solid and safe in his arms. His hair smells like flowery shampoo under his nose as he takes a deep breath, his shirt soft under his hands.
Absentmindedly, he starts to rub his hand over Namjoon’s back in slow, soothing motions.
Something seems to snap within Namjoon and he melts into his touch. Seokjin can feel everything relax under his hand and against his chest, a long shuddering breath leaving Namjoon’s lips. He had no idea he was wound so tight.
“That’s it,” he encourages quietly, and with the next shaky exhale Namjoon becomes so pliant and docile it takes Seokjin’s breath away. “That’s it. Relax, Joonie,” he soothes as he continues to rub his back.
Namjoon is still for only a few moments before he stirs and wraps his arms around Seokjin’s waist, clinging tightly. His fingers grip and pull desperately at the loose fabric of his t-shirt, pressing himself hard into Seokjin’s chest.
“Jin-” he calls in a broken, almost strangled voice. Desperate for something. Seokjin’s not sure what, but he hushes him, giving him a firm squeeze in his arms, hugging him tightly.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he whispers.
Namjoon whimpers and Seokjin’s heart clenches in his chest. Namjoon’s arms slowly go limp around Seokjin’s waist, a quiet sigh leaves his lips. Seokjin focuses on rubbing his back.
“Good. Just relax.” He continues to whisper the word as he slowly moves up and down. Up . “Relax.” Down . “Relax.”
Slowly but surely, Namjoon melts yet again in his embrace, face tucked close to his chest and arm thrown over his hip, hanging like a limp noodle. He continues for a while, focusing on the evening of Namjoon’s breathes and the tingling of the skin on his palm as he runs it back and forth on the fabric of Namjoon’s shirt.
Seokjin lets the rhythm lull him too, and soon his eyes are closed, not yet dozing, but letting himself relax.
That is, until he feels something hot and damp start to seep into the front of his shirt. He stills and hears Namjoon swallow thickly.
“Why are you crying?” he asks, gentle and quiet.
Namjoon, again, takes a few seconds to respond. He breathes once, twice, three times, and on the fourth exhale he answers.
“It feels really good.”
Seokjin’s does his best not to make any noise of surprise, and if Namjoon notices the hitch in his breath, he doesn’t say anything. But still, even with the warmth rising on his cheeks, worry also flurries in his chest.
“Why is that making you cry, Joon-ah?” he asks tentatively.
“I don’t know. I’m not… used to it,” Namjoon admits, voice soft and breathy against the skin of his neck as he shifts his head. Seokjin can feel his wet eyelashes tickle his skin and he removes his hand from his back to wipe at his cheeks with his thumb. They’re damp and warm and Seokjin hums thoughtfully.
“Well, we should change that, don’t you think?”
When he returns his hand to Namjoon’s back, he slides it all the way down before he slips his hand underneath the fabric.
Namjoon gives a small jerk as Seokjin slides his hand up the bare skin of Namjoon’s spine, warm and solid and gentle. He holds his breath for a moment, and then another as his skin erupts with shivers and he turns so soft , exhaling with a quiet, low moan filled with so much relief Seokjin’s has to bite his lip to keep his mind from wandering.
Seokjin continues for a while and Namjoon stays silent, save for the occasional barely-there moans he lets past his lips. Ones that Seokjin is sure he wouldn’t be able to hear if he wasn’t pressed against him like this.
“Jin,” Namjoon whispers, like he’s hanging onto his consciousness by only a few threads, slowly unravelling.
“Shh,” he hushes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“‘M sorry,” Namjoon mumbles, speech slurred as he speaks against his neck.
“What for, sweetheart?”
Namjoon stays quiet, and Seokjin almost believes he’s fallen asleep, completely still as he rests against him.
“This.”
Seokjin frowns. “What do you mean?”
Namjoon takes a long time to answer. So long that Seokjin starts to doze, teetering right on the edge of sleep as he spreads light touches across Namjoon’s warm skin. So long that when Namjoon speaks up, it takes him a moment to remember what they were talking about.
“Me,” Namjoon says quietly, sad and so vulnerable.
Seokjin shakes his head, chest flooding with emotion and affection for the other. He moves his hand all the way up to pet Namjoon’s hair, scratching with his nails lightly on his scalp in a way that makes Namjoon sigh.
“Shut up and let me hold you.”
Namjoon nuzzles his neck and presses his lips against his skin, placing the lightest of kisses.
Seokjin’s heart squeezes in his chest and his stomach flips. He returns one on Namjoon’s forehead, then on his nose when Namjoon tilts his face up. God, he has a cute nose.
He pulls back enough to meet Namjoon’s eyes through the dark. They shine, with unshed tears or just tiredness, Seokjin’s not sure. Curiosity comes back to him, itching in the back of his mind.
“Why are you hurting, Joonie?” He asks quietly.
Namjoon immediately tucks his face back down to Seokjin’s neck, hiding.
“I don’t know.”
Seokjin hums thoughtfully. “You don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?”
Namjoon hesitates. “... Both.”
“Why don’t you want to tell me?” Seokjin asks.
“It’s stupid,” Namjoon whispers, ashamed.
Seokjin clicks his tongue in protest. “I already told you. I won’t make fun of you. You can tell me,” he encourages, voice soft and sweet.
“It feels stupid.”
“What does, Joon?”
Namjoon doesn’t answer for a while. Seokjin waits. He can feel the gears turning in Namjoon’s head, feel him thinking, considering, weighing his options. Can feel him fighting the urge to crawl back into his shell.
Namjoon’s hands play with the hem of Seokjin’s shirt as he becomes nervous again. “I just… w-want someone to…”
“What?” Seokjin urges. He can feel him, right on the edge. He’s so close to an answer.
“I just want…” He tries again, but trails off. Seokjin holds his breath as he waits for Namjoon to finish.
But he doesn’t.
He falls silent again, unmoving and thinking so loud he might wake up the entire street. Seokjin sighs lightly and accepts the loss. He continues to rub his back, trying to get rid of he nerves he accidentally created. Namjoon smushes his face against his chest. Thinking, thinking, thinking.
Long minutes go by and the conversation fizzles into the air.
But then Namjoon speaks, sometime later as his heart beats steadily against Seokjin’s chest, with a voice so small and quiet like he’s hoping Seokjin won’t hear him.
“I just want someone to touch me.”
Seokjin freezes.
“Like… sexually?”
He really could have used more tact.
“What!? No!” Namjoon whisper-shouts, pulling back from Seokjin’s hold just enough to express how appalled he is by the suggestion. “Th-that’s not- I just- I don’t know what it is, I just…” He sputters and fumbles over his words and Seokjin can practically feel his blush through the small space between them.
Namjoon settles back down against him and takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.
“It feels like I’m… sometimes everything hurts and I.. I-I want… this . But… I don’t know how to ask for it.”
Namjoon is shy as he talks, stiffening as he waits for Seokjin’s response. The admission rolls over in Seokjin’s head a few times and as he connects his words with the way Namjoon had approached him earlier, so cautious and unsure. Everything starts to fall into place.
He frowns and hugs Namjoon tighter, chest swollen and fluttering with affection.
“Namjoon… you don’t even have to ask. With any of us. It’s as simple as just taking what you need.” Seokjin strokes his hair and Namjoon’s nose nuzzles into his neck. “The others barg in here no problem, it’s no different for you,” he says fondly.
“But… I don’t do that,” he protests, voice muffled by his neck.
“Why not?” Seokjin challenges.
Namjoon stays quiet, but Seokjin doesn’t really need him to answer. He knows.
“You have a lot of responsibility, we all know that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help when you need it.”
Namjoon pouts. “But… I shouldn’t need help with something like this. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not,” Seokjin insists. “Physical contact feels good, Joonie. You should let yourself have that.”
Namjoon makes an embarrassed whine, pressing his forehead into Seokjin’s shoulder.
“What if you don’t want me here though? What if I’m… a nuisance?” Namjoon asks.
“Then I’ll dump you off in Tae’s room. He always wants cuddles,” he teases, nudging Namjoon playfully as he smiles.
Namjoon doesn’t laugh with him though. He stays quiet, and Seokjin assumes he’s thinking over the conversation. They loop back into a comfortable silence and Seokjin plays with Namjoon’s hair while the younger fiddles with the hem of his shirt.
“What if I just want you, though?” Namjoon whispers.
Warmth blooms from Seokjin’s chest up to his neck. He places a kiss to the top of Namjoon’s head, then his forehead, and again on his nose when Namjoon tilts his head up. It’s so fucking cute.
“Then you’ll have me. But don’t wait until it hurts, Joon-ah. When you need a hug, come take one from me. When you need me to hold you, tell me. I want to do those things.”
Namjoon shifts against him. Seokjin presses another kiss to the top of his head because he can’t help himself. He wants Namjoon to feel wanted.
“Really?” Namjoon asks quietly, uncertain but hopeful as he tilts his head back up, searching through the dark for honesty on Seokjin’s face.
“Of course,” Seokjin smiles and presses another kiss to his nose. It’s really just too cute; he can’t resist.
“...Why?” Namjoon asks, even quieter, and he genuinely sounds puzzled. As if he can’t quite understand why anyone would want to touch him like that. It makes Seokjin’s heart throb painfully in his chest, but he smiles anyway, gently stroking Namjoon’s cheek with his thumb. It’s warm and round and soft.
“Because I love you,” he says, as though it’s as simple as that.
It really is, for the most part. He’s always loved Namjoon. Couldn’t stop if he tried.
Namjoon searches his face for another moment, Seokjin catches the sparkle in Namjoon’s eyes, shining with emotion and apprehension and hope. His gaze falls as he ducks his head again, clutching the back of Seokjin’s shirt and pressing close like he wants to touch every part of Seokjin’s body with his own. He breathes in deep as Seokjin slides his hand back up under his shirt. He can feel his heart beating hard against his chest, his skin warm under his palm.
Namjoon’s hand unfurls from the fabric of his shirt and he too tucks his hand under, resting against Seokjin’s bare skin. A spark of electricity shoots up Seokjin’s spine and he hums contently. Namjoon’s palm flattens and he runs his hand up his spine once, tentative, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed.
They stay like that for a while. The rise and fall of their chests sync as they share warm touches. Namjoon’s hand is large over his back, but he feels so small in his arms. It feels impossibly good to hold him like this, with Namjoon’s warm breath on his neck and his body molded perfectly against his like he belongs there. And as Namjoon’s hand eventually relaxes and his grip on Seokjin slowly loosens as he fades into sleep, Seokjin’s never felt more at peace.
“I love you,” he whispers again.
Maybe one day Namjoon will know how much he means it.
“I love you too,” Namjoon whispers back.
Maybe that day is closer than he once thought.