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he’s drunk, he knows.
he’s leaning heavily into namjoon, who smells like all the home yoongi has in the world. it brings yoongi back to their shared lives in their shared apartment, how they’d lived together for five years. during the times nothing felt steady or real, namjoon had been the earth beneath his feet.
the air smells like winter and car exhaust. smells like memory and a deep echo of pain and the fact that, with namjoon, he’d survived. sometimes drunk yoongi falls asleep before getting sentimental and introspective but tonight that’s not the case. tonight drunk yoongi is a burden, falling into namjoon’s arms again.
the concrete of the curb they’re sitting on, the bustle of late-night city, the warmth and weight of namjoon’s arm over his shoulders — this moment is heavy and real in yoongi’s chest.
this is all i wanted, he thinks.
“joonie,” he slurs. his mouth feels funny and a little numb and he wants to be held with his face buried in namjoon’s chest, but he knows it’s not something he should have.
“i woulda- i woulda been happy just with you,” yoongi says, for lack of sobriety, for lack of strength to hold back when his whole body says i love you i love you i love you.
he closes his eyes and namjoon says nothing, just breathes steadily.
the silence is comfortable. it’s no use to talk about these things anyway, when they all know. namjoon’s heart is so big, but yoongi doesn’t fit into his life the way namjoon needs. and jin is beautiful and sassy as fuck and good, so good for namjoon.
“i love you, joon,” yoongi says, but the alcohol makes it so that the words don’t even hurt anymore.
namjoon strokes messy locks of hair away from yoongi’s face, a familiar touch. the stab of longing in yoongi’s gut is dull and faraway.
“i love you too,” namjoon says, and rests his cheek on the top of yoongi’s head. they stay like that, very quiet, watching groups of people stumble in and out of the bars that line the narrow street.
“oh,” namjoon mumbles after a while. “we’re waiting for the cab, aren’t we? i forgot to call the cab but we’re waiting for the cab. sorry.”
yoongi doesn’t really care about the cab or going home to his single bedroom apartment, his unmade twin bed, but namjoon fumbles for his phone and opens the app after a few sloppy attempts. he still has his other arm over yoongi’s shoulder, intent on keeping yoongi warm.
and yoongi loves it. he feels dirty because it means so much to him and so little to namjoon, but either way he closes his eyes and burrows deeper into namjoon’s side.
...
yoongi wakes up in namjoon’s bed with a massive headache, and a dangerous feeling in his bladder. a glance to the wall clock tells him it’s 7 a.m., too early to be awake. he’d probably made a mistake last night when he chose to order all those drinks. a heavy, warm weight pins his bare legs to the bed. with a groan, he turns his head to see namjoon sprawled inelegantly on his back, mouth open and snoring gently. they’re in namjoon’s apartment, the one he barely uses anymore because he’s kind of moved in with jin. yoongi thinks they should get over themselves and discuss officially moving in together, possibly get engaged in the process. but first, yoongi needs to pee.
the struggle to shove namjoon’s leg off him triggers yoongi’s nausea, and he finds himself on his knees in front of the toilet, fighting multiple bodily urges. he stays there for a while but realizes while he feels ill, he’s not quite ill enough to vomit. amazing.
after taking a horrendously long piss, yoongi leans over the sink and gulps some water from the faucet. he collapses back onto namjoon’s bed still feeling nauseous but less like something died in his mouth. the familiar smell of namjoon’s sheets is soothing, and it takes no effort to fall back asleep to the lull of namjoon’s snoring.
...
when yoongi wakes again, it is to the sight of namjoon sitting up in bed, texting. the blinds are still drawn shut, and the phone’s pale glow accentuates the dark circles under namjoon’s eyes. even so, yoongi thinks he looks lovely. he seems relaxed, and he’s smiling at his phone a little as he types. it must be jin.
yoongi’s not drunk anymore so namjoon doesn’t have to take care of yoongi or worry about him being sad. yoongi refuses to be sad about it. he sits up slowly.
“oh,” namjoon says, looking up from his phone, “you’re awake.”
“morning,” yoongi rasps.
for a moment they just look at each other. yoongi wonders how much of a wreck he is. he’s sure namjoon remembers the shit yoongi had said last light. in the end, though, it doesn't really matter because they'll deal with it the way they always have: they'll acknowledge it or not acknowledge it, then they'll put it behind them.
in the quiet of the room, namjoon gives him a small smile and yoongi grins softly, tiredly, back at him.