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There was a lot to love about Namjoon's girlfriend, and he was reminded of it every time he watched her go out the door. Yoonji was dedicated, for starters; he didn't know of anyone else that would voluntarily wake up at the crack of dawn every day, put on a full face of makeup, and still sound cheery as he greeted her with her iced coffee. He certainly hated going to work at midnight and coming home just in time to see his girlfriend for just a few minutes.
“I filled the tank up,” Namjoon informed between their quick kisses and his handing Yoonji her drink. They had their greetings down to a science, always knowing just how much their partner could take before one of them was too overwhelmed or late for work.
Yoonji placed her final kiss on Namjoon's forehead, and she smiled sweetly as she was handed the keys to the car. “You're awesome, baby! I gotta go now. Don't be too lonely.”
“Leave, you old hag.”
Yoonji laughed as she shut the door, and Namjoon stood idly by the window to make sure she got to the car okay. He waved as she pulled out of the driveway, and he watched as she sped off. It was only then that he allowed himself back into the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal before his inevitable crash.
Their worlds seemed completely different at times; Namjoon had gone to school for music, earning him some scorn from his parents. They still supported him, however, until the day he brought Yoonji home to meet them.
Namjoon was straight, but at the time, he introduced Min Yoongi to his parents, as his boyfriend. Yoongi had been the only man Namjoon had ever fallen for, or had a crush on, and his parents’ reaction to Yoongi had been to disown their own son.
Which, in the long-run, Namjoon supposed was for the best. He doubted they'd like his girlfriend, and he knew they'd never approve of his life choices, anyway. They'd mock him for being a manager at their local McDonald's, and for letting his girlfriend travel all the way to Daegu to make more money than him.
Yoonji, on the other hand, had been kicked out of her family when she'd come out as gay after graduating high school. She had, thankfully, been able to go to a good school in Seoul on a scholarship. It took her family a few years to reach out again, where they rekindled their relationship after coming to terms that they had a daughter, not a son.
She was smart, and she graduated with a business degree. It allowed her to open up a tattoo shop with an old friend, and while Namjoon loved the fact that his girlfriend was doing something she loved and was proud of, he absolutely loathed the fact that it was all the way in Daegu. If they'd been located in Seoul, they'd have a lot more time together, which Namjoon desperately wanted.
He washed the bowl of cereal once he was done eating, and once his hands were dry, he reached for his phone to text Yoonji;
[You:] I'm going to sleep now!!! I love you!!! Drive safely!!! Come home safely!!! Make sure you eat!!!
[You:] I love you!!! I love love LOVE YOU!!!
“Joonbug. Hey, Joonbug…” Yoonji shook his shoulder to wake him, and the tone of her voice immediately told Namjoon what she wanted.
Still, it was always better to play dumb, and he tried shaking the sleep out of his voice as he asked, “Yes, baby girl?”
“Wake up. I want some fuck.”
Namjoon glanced at the digital clock on their nightstand, making out that it was 10:09. There was plenty of time to get ready before his shift at midnight.
“Do we not greet each other anymore?” he lamented. “Geez, it's like we don't even talk anymore. I'm starting to feel like I'm just some guy you come home to for some fuck.”
“Shut up. You like fucking me,” Yoonji shot back with a little smile. She leaned down to kiss him in greeting, and Namjoon couldn't help but smile into the kiss.
“Yeah. I do like fucking you.” He ran his hands along her sides, and he rested them on the backs of her thighs. Namjoon gave a teasing little squeeze, and he asked softly, “How do you want me to please you?”
Yoonji wasn't fully transitioned. She was on hormones, and she got top surgery, but saving up for bottom surgery had proved to be a hassle. Neither of them made enough money to save up easily after paying all their bills, and it seemed like right when Yoonji had enough, something happened and the money had to go somewhere else.
The first time something big happened, their car broke down and needed a new radiator. The second time, Yoonji's parlor was broken into. The insurance didn't cover the damages because of some bullshit loophole Namjoon didn't understand, but he knew it crushed both his girlfriend and her business partner.
Namjoon knew how much Yoonji wanted surgery, but she was always so sweet to him when he was upset about it; she'd always remind him, “I feel so much better now that I got top surgery. I can wait a little longer for bottom surgery, I don't feel as dysphoric anymore. It's okay, Joonbug.”
And, he supposed, it was pretty true. Yoonji's confidence shocked him when she started hormones, and it only skyrocketed once she healed from her first surgery. She fit into clothing better, and Namjoon caught her checking herself out plenty of times already, which was something he'd never seen her do.
But he knew that there were days Yoonji didn't feel good at all. She'd shy away from his touch, and when things got too bad, Namjoon would cover the mirrors around the house so Yoonji wouldn't feel too awful. These were the days Namjoon would try to stay home to make sure she'd stay safe-- although Yoonji was doing a lot better mentally, he still feared for her safety sometimes.
Yoonji breathed out a shaky sigh, and she murmured, “I want you to touch me. I wanna ride you, Joonbug…”
Namjoon felt relieved-- Yoonji was feeling good, and he kissed her neck as he worked to undress her to make her feel even better.
“You can't leave hickeys on my neck, though,” he whined. “I need to look respectable.”
His complaint drew a laugh from Yoonji, and she simply grinned as she teased, “You're such a baby.”
“It doesn't take a genius to realize that you're depressed, Joonbug. I know it's hard to swallow, but coming from someone with depression, you're depressed, baby.”
That was the first time ever that the word “depression” had been applied to Namjoon's situation. His parents preferred “lazy” and “undisciplined,” and his friends usually described him as “stressed” and “overworked.” There were moments where Namjoon wondered if “depressed” was a better adjective for him, but the moments were fleeting; I can't be depressed. I'm not sad all the time.
But that's the biggest misconception about depression; it isn't always just sadness. Depression, Namjoon had come to learn, was also: the inability to do simple tasks, a lack of energy that lasted for hours or days or even weeks, feeling as if he was going nowhere in life, the urge to isolate himself from everyone, feeling helpless and hopeless.
He'd seen the telltale symptoms from Yoonji; her depression looked more like an increased time sleeping, a lack of appetite, bouts of anger and an eventual outburst, anxiety, suicidal ideation. She was depressed. That was something Namjoon figured from the first few weeks of knowing her.
But he remembered the day Yoonji had enlightened him about his own state. They weren't living together yet, but Yoonji seemed to just know what was going on in Namjoon's head before he broke down crying about it. She had held him tight, had offered feather-like kisses all over the top of his head and his face, and she was as blunt as ever as she uttered those fateful words. The words didn't make sense between Namjoon's jumbled thoughts, but the more he vented, the more Yoonji validated his feelings, the more tangible the thought became.
Namjoon was depressed, and he realized at the ripe age of twenty-one that depression had been something he was struggling with for years.
He was twenty-four now, and three years of self-reflecting and self-analysis certainly made his depressive episodes a little easier to deal with.
Some days, however, were nearly unbearable. He'd come home one day in the early morning, as usual, and the thought that he was going nowhere in life suddenly struck him. It was like a poison slowly seeping through his mind, except that the potent effects were hitting him instantly-- Yoonji always told him he got too caught up in his thoughts sometimes, and Namjoon could only agree as he drowned in his intrusive thoughts.
Usually, Yoonji was the thing that grounded him the easiest. I wish she was home. I wish she didn't have to go so far away.
I wish I could help myself.
Namjoon had coping mechanisms, but his most recent episodes made him wonder if he could even cope on his own at all. Ever since they started living together, it felt like he'd become too dependent on Yoonji to help stabilize his mood. He was grateful most days for her presence, but when things started to take a turn for the worst, he felt more like a burden on her.
He eyed his phone on the nightstand as he sat in bed, and he debated calling Yoonji. She'd definitely pick up if he called, and he knew she'd probably come right home if she thought that he really needed her.
I don't want to worry her. She has so much on her mind already. I don't want to be a burden.
The only other viable option was to sleep, but sleep always came hard when his mind was racing to process his thoughts and his whole being just hurt. Namjoon figured he could cry some of his feelings out; he was a prideful person who hated crying and being vulnerable, but crying was always cathartic, and even if he didn't feel any relief from the action, he could at least laugh at his ugly tear-stained face in the mirror.
He wasn't aware when he fell asleep, but feeling Yoonji shaking his shoulder let him know that he'd slept the whole day away.
“Joonbug, wake up,” she coaxed softly. “You're gonna be late for work if you don't get ready soon.”
“I called off,” he murmured, his voice strained. Namjoon turned his back to Yoonji and pulled the covers over his shoulder.
Whenever things were rough for Namjoon, Yoonji was always able to figure it out. His actions and way of speaking were different, and Yoonji, being the observant person she was, always seemed to know just what to do.
The bed sank as she joined her boyfriend, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked softly, to which Namjoon could only shrug. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
I wish I could. I don't even know what's wrong. I don't even wanna say anything, because I'll just sound stupid.
Talking when he was feeling depressed was awfully hard-- it was impossible, and Namjoon, prideful as he was, always opted for gestures in lieu of words.
He shook his head finally, and he could feel Yoonji deflate a little.
“Do you want me to cuddle you?”
Namjoon nodded his head immediately.
“Little spoon or big spoon?”
“Little,” he murmured, almost inaudibly. But Yoonji heard him, she always did.
The embrace felt warm and protective, and Namjoon could only press himself up against his girlfriend as she held him. She ran her fingers through his hair in the way she knew he liked, and her voice was sweet and genuine as she whispered her incantation to lift his spirits; “I love you, Joonbug. I'm so proud of you. You work so hard, and it's gonna pay off some day, okay? You make me so proud, I'm so glad I've been able to see you grow as a person. And I'm here for you, okay? For whatever you need. If you need to vent, you can. If you need a distraction, I'll be the best fucking distraction.”
To Namjoon, Yoonji's words sounded fake-- he wanted to deny everything she was saying, to write it off as lies, but he knew that was just a byproduct of his current state.
I can trust her. Even if I don't believe her, she's saying all of this for a reason.
His shoulders started shaking as he began to quietly sob once again, and he felt choked when Yoonji held him tighter.
“It's okay, baby boy… I love you so much. Thanks for sticking around. I know it's hard right now, but these feelings will pass.
“Trust me.”
Sundays were undoubtedly Namjoon's favorite days; they were his only days off, and after some conversation, Yoonji agreed to make it her own day off as well.
While Namjoon had woken at nearly noon, he could tell Yoonji had been awake for a while already. He smelled something good, and his growling stomach demanded he go find the source.
“Good morning,” he called as he entered the kitchen, lazily scratching his stomach as he made his way next to his girlfriend.
Yoonji leaned up to kiss his cheek; “Mornin’, Joonbug. I'm making a healthy breakfast today.”
“Jungkook convince you to start eating healthy before you die of heart disease?”
Namjoon was met with silence, which was more than enough of an answer for him. “So, let me guess. Eggs, fruit, and toast?”
“Toast with butter. He said to use the fruit but fuck that. I love butter on toast.” Yoonji's cheeks went red as she finished cutting up the apple slices. “Don't forget to get yourself ready. We're grocery shopping today.”
“Can I get a little morning sex before we do that?”
“No, because your ass doesn't wake up in the mornings anymore. It's noon, you lazy bum. The shop is closed for the day. Too bad.”
Namjoon pouted, and he reached to cup Yoonji's ass, which made her jump; “Lemme tap that!”
“Don't objectify me, you demon,” she hissed back, reaching behind Namjoon to do the same to him. He simply laughed it off, and he busied himself by setting the table for the two of them.
They ate slowly-- they were far too busy chatting and catching up that the food was the last thing on their minds. Sunday breakfast always meant catching each other up on the mundane things that happened throughout the week, and Namjoon loved it. It definitely made both their hectic schedules worth it, because he could feel the love radiating from Yoonji's body, and he was sure he exuded the same energy.
Grocery shopping was his second favorite thing about Sundays. Being in the store with his arm linked with Yoonji's made him feel like they were a married couple of fifty years. They never had a grocery list because Yoonji believed it was much more effective to remind each other of what they needed to get, which worked around 95% of the time. Sometimes, if they were feeling frisky, they'd splurge on apple cider or alcohol or sweets, which always made Namjoon glad that they weren't restricted by a list.
After coming home, they'd always spend their afternoons cleaning and chatting. Namjoon would cover the kitchen and the bathroom while Yoonji handled their room and the living room. They'd trade off every other month, which always helped reinvigorate their cleaning spirit.
Sunday nights were bittersweet; Namjoon loathed the anxiety of the upcoming week-- but when they were both in bed, his arms wrapped around Yoonji as they dozed off watching shitty cable TV, he was happier than ever to be alive. He loved the feeling of being pressed flush against his girlfriend as they simply laid together in silence, and he wished he could simply bottle the feeling up and carry it with him at all times.
Namjoon hated their hectic work schedules for hardly leaving any time together for themselves, but it made Sundays that much more special.
There were a lot of things Namjoon could never get used to about his relationship with Yoonji; the recent thing he couldn't get used to was the band around his ring finger, and the fact that he couldn't say “girlfriend” anymore, because Yoonji was his fianceé now.
Growing up, Namjoon envisioned a thousand and one ways to propose to his future girlfriend, but he didn't even get to see one through. At the end of the day, it was Yoonji who proposed, and if Namjoon was honest, he couldn't have pictured it any other way. It was Yoonji who constantly coaxed him out of his shell and who helped him stand a tad bit taller with confidence, so it was fitting, really, that she'd propose to him and fill in all the gaps Namjoon didn't know he was missing.
A week later, and Namjoon was still glowing. He showed his ring off to all his friends, and even his co-workers congratulated him and celebrated the new steppingstone of his relationship.
When he walked into his home at the crack of dawn, iced coffee in hand, he grinned shyly when he saw Yoonji eating a quick bowl of cereal in the kitchen. Her makeup, as always, was impeccable, and he absolutely loved the way her sleek black dress fit snugly on her.
“Welcome home, Joonbug.”
“Good morning, baby girl!” He eagerly leaned in for a kiss, and he couldn't help but smile into it.
Yoonji pulled away with a puzzled but amused look, and she took her iced coffee. “What's up with you? You've been fucking giddy lately. You're not cheating on me, are you?”
Namjoon laughed and shook his head; “Of course not! I just-- can't I just be happy because I love you?”
“Hmm,” Yoonji hummed in thought. “I guess you can. That's a nice lie, though.”
With a little laugh, Namjoon pulled Yoonji's body flush against his, and he went in for another kiss, sweet and chaste. “I fucking love you, Yoonji. I'll steal the moon and stars out of the sky for you. Don't fucking test me. And I'm-- I'm so fucking excited to marry you. I really am.”
“God, you're so gay for a cishet,” she teased softly, but she pulled him into another kiss nonetheless.
And for the first time in Namjoon's life, he felt like everything was falling perfectly into place-- it wasn't just his life now, though.
Everything in our lives is finally perfect.