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In hindsight, everything led them to this exact moment.
Their friend groups had been brought together by Yoongi and Jeongguk. Jeongguk, who had been so shy and nervous about bringing Yoongi home as he was his first boyfriend. He had been afraid of Jimin and Taehyung teasing him too much in front of Yoongi and scaring him away with their shenanigans.
(To be honest, Jimin and Taehyung had considered fake making out butt naked on the couch in the living room when Jeongguk let Yoongi in, but Jeongguk bribed them with taking over cooking duties for two weeks if they behaved, so they didn’t.)
The two weeks hadn’t even passed when they decided to meet up for a movie night, so they could get to know Yoongi’s friends. Lord of the Rings was a choice they all could live with. Taehyung ended up sitting between the two Seoks - as Yoongi had introduced them.
And Jimin — Jimin got to sit next to Namjoon. Namjoon who was exactly Jimin’s type with his black-rimmed glasses, the short dark blond hair, and his unusual fashion sense. Halfway through the first movie Jimin caught himself staring at him every time the Hobbits cracked a joke so that he could watch his dimples appearing and disappearing on his smooth, smooth cheek. He was already falling far too hard when Namjoon started whispering into his ear about philosophical aspects in the storytelling and the world-building, not aware of how his thigh pressed against Jimin’s whenever he leaned over. At the end of the first movie, Jimin was ready to do Jeongguk’s chores for a whole year to thank him for bringing Namjoon into his life.
The next morning came, and Jimin ran into a half-naked Hoseok in the kitchen, clad with nothing but a towel around his hip, only to meet a naked Seokjin in the bathroom. Jimin asked himself how it seemed to be so easy for Taehyung when Jimin hadn’t even been able to ask Namjoon for his number.
With the two Seoks being around Taehyung all the time, and Yoongi practically living in Jeongguk’s room, it meant that Jimin got to see Namjoon - who was best friends with Hoseok and Yoongi - a lot. A lot, as in at least four times a week. They got along as if they’d known each other forever. Jimin tried to tell himself that it only came from the fact that they were the two singles in their group, but then Namjoon was the one who asked for Jimin’s number, was the one who asked Jimin if he wanted to accompany him on his walks through the park. When Jimin asked him if he didn’t spoil the few quiet hours of the week for him, Namjoon just smiled at him with a smile that had Jimin’s knees turn into jelly.
Soon Jimin couldn’t remember how his life had been without texting Namjoon, without walks in the park, without their arms bumping against each other as they padded their way through the leaves that covered the ground, then through the snow that turned the park into a silent winter wonderland. He was the first one to tell Jimin good morning, the last one who told him to sleep well at night.
During the next movie marathon, Namjoon ended up holding Jimin’s hand. One second Jimin tried to sniffle his tears away silently during a particularly sad scene, the other second, Namjoon reached out to squeeze his hand to comfort him. He didn’t let go again.
They didn’t talk about it.
They also didn’t talk about all the times they fell asleep on the sofa together. Didn’t talk about their late-night phone calls, their minute-long hugs when Jimin brought Namjoon coffee to the studio on the way back from university, Namjoon warming Jimin’s hands with his sweater paws, or how Jimin couldn’t stop poking Namjoon’s dimple whenever he succeeded in making him smile.
It hurt a little.
Which is where they are now.
Still not talking.
It hurts a little.
Sitting next to each other on Seokjin’s small balcony, staring into the night, because his small apartment is too warm, too crowded, too loud. Out here, everything is dimmed. The world is happening behind those glass doors, and they are living in their own world.
“Hey,” Namjoon says softly, and Jimin realizes that it isn’t the first time Namjoon tried to get his attention.
“Sorry, I—”
“Spaced out for a minute?”
“Yeah,” he agrees, playing absentmindedly with Namjoon’s sweater paws, wondering - not for the first time - where Namjoon always finds sweaters and cardigans that are too big even for his long arms.
“Do you want to go in for a bit? Get something to drink and come back out here?”
There’s nothing Jimin wants more, even if it’s almost below zero degrees, and every exhale creates small clouds between them.
“Won’t Jin-hyung be mad at us if we miss most of his party?”
“He won’t even notice. Not with all the attention Tae and Hobs are giving him.”
Jimin laughs. The three of them are horrible. Horribly in love.
“YesYes.”
“Hm?” Namjoon looks at him, his eyes are almost comically confused.
“Yes to the drinks, and yes to Jin most probably not noticing.”
“Right,” Namjoon chuckles. He gets up first to help Jimin up, then he leads him inside, not letting go of Jimin’s hand. It’s getting almost familiar already. Namjoon’s big hands almost entirely covering his own. Always warm, always so, so warm. Jimin doesn’t want him to let go, and Namjoon doesn’t let go.
They have to wait before they can even get close to the counter in the kitchen. There’s a queue. A freaking queue, leading halfway through the living room. Jimin doesn’t know why almost every sound around them suddenly dies down. He hears Taehyung giggling from somewhere across the room, hears Namjoon’s sigh, and when Jimin looks at him his cheeks are glowing, his eyes fixated on something further up. On the ceiling.
Oh.
Oh shit.
Not like this.
It’s only December 4. Why the fuck does Seokjin have a freaking mistletoe hanging on his freaking ceiling?
It’s when Namjoon lets go of Jimin’s hand. When Jimin feels tears of embarrassment rushing into his eyes, and a coldness closing around his heart. Then Namjoon is reaching up, with his long arms, long enough to reach the small branch, and he effortlessly plucks it from the ribbon it’s been attached to.
Then his hand is back around Jimin’s, and it’s still so, so warm when he pulls him out of the watching crowd, back to the balcony. Wolf whistles are escorting them, but they are cut off when Namjoon closes the door to the balcony, and they are back in their own world, which is only lit by the subtle glow of the city lights.
Namjoon sits back down on the old blanket that they’d brought with them earlier, and Jimin has no other choice but to follow him.
“Jimin. I—” Namjoon places the branch behind them on the window sill. “Technically we’re still under it like this, right? I—” Namjoon’s thumb caresses over Jimin cheek. Testing, asking. “I didn’t want to share this with everyone. I wanted to ask you if you’re okay with it first.”
“Kissing you?”
Namjoon hums in agreement. A little shy. A little scared.
Jimin hides his face against Namjoon’s shoulder and nods. He has waited so long for this. Always hoping that he didn’t misread the signs. Always—
“Can’t kiss you if you’re hiding.”
It takes some courage to look up at Namjoon, to meet his eyes with the knowledge that he’s about to be kissed. Jimin’s heart goes crazy with the thought. “Sor—”
Namjoon’s thumb on his lips stops him from talking more. Warm.
“Don’t apologize.”
Namjoon’s lips are even warmer than his hands. It’s easy to melt against them, easy to get lost. Their lips fit perfectly together. Pieces of a puzzle that complete their small world out here. There’s so much to find out, so much to discover, and Jimin stops Namjoon when he wants to retreat after the first chaste closed-mouthed kisses. Stops him, pulls him closer, wants to make Namjoon understand that he doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t ever want it to end.
They both tilt their heads for a better angle at the same time, their tongues meeting with soft, gentle touches. Jimin wants to drown in the small sounds Namjoon makes. Wants to drown in Namjoons’s flavor, wants to chase it, explore it. He tastes so good. So, so good.
It doesn’t matter that the air around them is freezing or that everyone inside knows that they fled out here to kiss. Namjoon made sure that it became their moment, and their moment only.
This time they don’t need to talk about it. This time there are no doubts left, dissolved under the city lights and the glow of the rising moon.