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Namjoon can’t tell them.
He had been at Hoseok and Jimin’s apartment, catching up with Jimin and Taehyung for the first time in what felt like forever. Then Hoseok had shown up with this new strand, bragging about how potent it supposedly was like he’d grown the plants himself. None of them really cared, mostly just happy to mooch and have something to do on an otherwise lazy Sunday afternoon.
Hoseok invited over a few more people, always one to share and/or orchestrate an impromptu get together. Yoongi and Jeongguk arrived one after the other, toting chips and gummies respectively as a sort of entrance fee.
Namjoon sat on the floor, head leaned between Jimin’s legs and enjoying the way he’d twisted and played with bits of Namjoon’s hair. Hoseok plopped down beside him with a grunt, checking his phone with a frown. “Seokjin hyung’s gonna be late, he told us to get started without him.”
Namjoon had hummed, closed his eyes to settle back into Jimin’s touch and hoped the face he was making was neutral.
But then they’d gotten started without Seokjin just like he’d told them, passing Hoseok’s obnoxious elephant pipe around while Yoongi and Hoseok argued about what to put on Netflix.
It’s not the first time it’s happened, where Namjoon feels simultaneously too big and too small - like he’s taking up too much space and everyone knows it. This is the worst it’s been though, and it makes the uneasiness spreading through his limbs feel like a heavy secret he can’t burden his friends with. His body feels off as he sinks into the high, like nothing’s quite right but voicing it will only make things worse.
He’s not really paying attention to the conversation or the show, knees tucked in to his chest and eyes drifting shut in an attempt to appear sleepy and relaxed when really jittery discomfort is bouncing around in his chest.
He only really tunes back in when he hears someone come in the front door, not having noticed Taehyung getting up to let Seokjin in. He gets to his feet before he can really think things through too much, grabbing Seokjin by the hand and stumbling down out of sight and into the hallway, ignoring the wolf-whistles of their friends.
“What’s up, Namjoon?” Seokjin looks a little confused, maybe a little concerned. Namjoon thinks if the paranoia he’s feeling is showing on his face at all the concern makes a lot of sense.
“I… can’t be here.”
Seokjin’s eyebrows furrow, “oh... kay ?”
Namjoon closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, opens them again. “Can you get me out of here?”
He isn’t sure how Seokjin does it, is a little busy hiding in the hallway and trying not to stress himself out too much. But Seokjin takes him by the arm with a nod and tells him to put his shoes on.
“Bye everyone,” Seokjin says, elbowing Namjoon gently to follow suit.
“Bye,” Namjoon says softly, hoping no one calls him out on his bluff and focusing on tugging the back of his shoe up over the heel of his foot.
Seokjin waits until they’re outside to talk, to put Namjoon’s restless mind out of its misery. “What was that all about?”
Namjoon shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. It’s not especially cold today, but he needs something to do with his hands. He shrugs, “I needed to leave. I didn’t - I couldn’t tell them.”
“Couldn’t tell them what?” Seokjin doesn’t sound like he’s taking it as a joke, which has Namjoon feeling relieved. And he wants to tell Seokjin - wants to just get the messy discomfort off his chest and let his hyung brush it off like the insignificant thing it probably is. But he just - he can’t find the words.
Seokjin must see the confliction on his face, because he stops looking at Namjoon, steps in close and loops his arm around Namjoon’s elbow. “I’m starving. What do you say we get some snacks?”
✶
It’s something, watching Seokjin be. Namjoon feels like he’ll never completely get him. That their minds are just far enough apart that he’ll always be a little caught off guard in the face of each new side he meets. Namjoon had tried to convince Seokjin to let him pay, thinking it was only fair since Namjoon had dragged him away from what should’ve been a lazy, snacks provided afternoon.
“Hyung’s got it,” he’d said, “let hyung get it.”
So Namjoon’s leaned against a light pole watching through the spattering of passerbyers as Seokjin befriends the ajumma running the hotteok stand. By the time he wanders back over, a steaming cake held up in each hand, he seems to have charmed everyone in line. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. Maybe Namjoon’s just biased.
They walk as they eat, aimless as far as Namjoon knows - but he feels like he’s just left all the decision making for the day in Seokjin's hands, happy to trail after and try not to let his stomach roil anxiously.
Seokjin leads him to a park, open green space cut through with paved paths and benches, spatterings of trees and people walking. They chat here and there as they go, Namjoon content to just listen as Seokjin points out a dog he’s convinced looks just like a movie star or telling him about the coworker he’s sure has been stealing his lunch.
It takes Namjoon a moment to realize what’s happening when Seokjin walks them off the trail, crouching to the ground with a fatherly grunt before lying flat on his back. It’s not until Seokjin turns and gives him a look, arms and legs spreading out like a starfish and patting the space beside him that Namjoon takes the hint, popping the last cooling bite of hotteok into his mouth and shoving the crumpled up napkin he’d been holding it with into his pocket before moving to join him.
Namjoon pulls up his hood as he lays down, protecting his head from the dirt and chill of the grass. The sky above him is vibrant, fluffy clouds a stark contrast to the bright blue of the sky behind them. He’s starting to calm down a bit, no longer steeped in the sort of unprompted paranoia that seemed to cloud his mind along with his high.
Namjoon tries not to get too into his friends heads, figures they’ll tell him what they want him to know and that his tendency to read into things won’t help either of them. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t picked up a few things just through exposure.
Seokjin seems to fear the quiet. Namjoon can’t be sure if it’s something that only manifests when he’s around - hasn’t found a doable way to take himself out of the picture to test it.
He fills up the quiet with small thoughts and stories like silence is the same as vulnerability. And Namjoon can’t quite relate to it, but that seems to be sort of par for the course as far as Seokjin’s involved.
“Sky sure is big,” Seokjin says, and Namjoon can’t help but smile at that. They’d made it almost a minute laying here side by side.
“Yeah.” Namjoon’s voice is a little softer than he intended, agreeing in full even as he tries not to laugh at Seokjin’s timing.
“You ever cloud watch?”
Namjoon nods, then realizes Seokjin likely can’t see that so follows it up with a hum of affirmation.
“Then what do you see?”
Namjoon takes a deep inhale, feels the cool air make a home in his chest as he challenges himself to make something out of the abstract shapes in the sky.
“It’s such an interesting thing, isn’t it? How we can just - see things where they aren’t?” Namjoon spreads his fingers out over the neatly trimmed grass. “Imagination is amazing. All the things we can think into reality just because we feel like it.”
Seokjin laughs at little at that, “has anyone ever told you how endearing you get when you’re high, Namjoonie?”
Namjoon wants to resent that, even as he feels his cheeks heat up. He doesn’t think he’s any less of his usual self right now, all his thoughts feel like they’re in the same order and he’s never been one to shy away from voicing his perspective. He’s torn between taking the compliment and analysing just what he’s done to portray himself as this alternate version of Namjoon.
“Oh no, I didn’t mean to trigger some sort of crisis,” Namjoon can hear the smile in Seokjin’s voice even through his deadpan tone.
Namjoon likes that. The way you can hear the smile in someone’s voice, how just the appearance of happiness is enough to change the way something sounds. Maybe there really is something to that whole faking it ‘til you make it concept.
“I’m always endearing,” He says eventually, hoping to hear Seokjin’s voice smile again.
Seokjin hums, “you get all shameless too. Have you made any of the clouds into something else with your imagination yet?”
Namjoon lifts his right arm, squinting his left eye closed to point at a cloud over on Seokjin’s section of the sky. “That one’s a sad elephant. There’s a mouse beside it that tried to scare it but didn’t expect it would cry. I think it’s trying to comfort it, apologize.”
“Ah,” Seokjin starts, and he sounds a bit like he’s indulging Namjoon now. Namjoon doesn’t like that. Then he sees Seokjin pointing to another cloud a little further down, “that one looks like a set of saggy balls.”
Namjoon feels that creeping discomfort from earlier, that fear of not being taken seriously and that he’s more of a joke than a person. He’d come to Seokjin to get away from everything he couldn’t imagine facing, he’s still a little high and maybe more emotionally vulnerable than he’d regularly let himself be but he can’t just laugh it off.
“Why do you do that?” Namjoon doesn’t quite have the confidence to turn and look at Seokjin directly, but he shifts his gaze enough that Seokjin’s visible in his periphery. It’s a good thing too, because that’s how he catches Seokjin shrugging.
Neither of them speak for another moment, and Namjoon doesn’t bother pressing further, knows this is a stalemate he’s more than capable of winning.
“Why do I do what?” It doesn’t take long, Namjoon’s counted to about twenty in his head, picked out a smiley face and a mushroom in the clouds.
“Make a joke out of everything. Tear down anything serious.”
Seokjin huffs, “I don’t make a joke out of everything ,” his voice grows a little louder, a little more indignant, “how dare you.”
“You’re doing it now,” Namjoon points out, “why does talking about the real stuff make you break out in hives?” He does turn his head now, usual fear of confrontation suppressed in the face of putting one of his biggest questions about Seokjin to rest.
Seokjin opens and closes his mouth like a particularly offended fish, eyes focused off into the distance like he’s trying to come up with something. Namjoon feels a little bad, putting him on the spot like that. The curiosity and fight dies within him, replaces itself with a sort of sad tiredness.
“Nevermind,” he starts, turning back to face the sky, “if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
That seems to sober the mood a little, has Seokjin falling silent for long enough that Namjoon almost drifts off.
“Why’d you want to leave?”
Namjoon thinks about turning Seokjin’s earlier response back on him, a sort of petty repayment for the way he couldn’t talk about something that seems so easy to him. But that’s not fair. They’re different people. They’re different people and Namjoon doesn’t mind talking about it, never really minds talking about most things with Seokjin. He seems sincere enough in his question, and Namjoon hopes he doesn’t turn another opportunity for vulnerability into something shallow.
“I got too high.”
Seokjin laughs, “sorry, just - yeah. I could’ve guessed that much.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes, “I don’t know, it’s some fancy strain, Hoseok told you that, right? It got me really paranoid.”
“I figured. But… why me?”
Namjoon swallows, “you know why.”
Seokjin is quiet for a moment, then, “I don’t know that I do. I would think Jimin or Yoongi would be better equipped to talk you down from something like that.”
Namjoon feels his face grow warm again, wondering how many limbs he’s going to end up going out on. “It wasn’t about the response, it was more about the person.”
He hopes the following silence is the gears clicking into place as Seokjin figures things out. “Are you saying I’ve got a soothing aura?”
Namjoon sighs, “pretty much the exact opposite, really.” He can hear Seokjin working up an affronted response and continues before things can escalate, “I think I’m starting to come down now, we can head back home. Sorry about all this”
✶
The walk is quiet, Seokjin checks his phone a few times for something to do and Namjoon thinks about Seokjin. He can’t remember exactly when it started, when he began looking for Seokjin in the faces at every party. When he first found his mind wandering to just what Seokjin might think of this book, this food, this song, this outfit.
The more Namjoon gets to know him the more he realizes just how little Seokjin gives away. He wonders if it’s fair to have the sort of feelings he does about someone he’s still so unfamiliar with.
For a long time Namjoon envied it, the way Seokjin can put on a game face like it’s his own when Namjoon has to struggle to hold back his deepest thoughts and feelings prompted or otherwise.
He tries not to see Seokjin as some sort of mystery to be solved. He tries not to see Seokjin as a handsome face and distractingly attractive body, but he has a harder time ignoring those last two.
“Why’d you take me to the park?” They’re getting back to Namjoon’s apartment, only a few blocks away from Seokjin’s. A coincidence that often has Namjoon dressing up to grab ramen from the good convenience store late at night in case they run into each other. “Why didn’t you just take me home?”
Seokjin tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, bumping his shoulder into Namjoon’s while he scrunches up his face in thought. “You seemed pretty freaked out, I didn’t just wanna leave you alone.”
“Yeah,” Namjoon starts, feeling more embarrassed with each second of his comedown, “I must’ve seemed pretty pathetic.”
Seokjin tsk ’s, reaching up to pat at Namjoon’s hair, “you looked a little like a hopped up conspiracy theorist, sure. But not pathetic. Never pathetic.”
“Thanks,” Namjoon starts, “hopped up conspiracy theorist was actually my goal aesthetic in high school so I’m glad I finally made it.”
Seokjin snorts, coming to a stop and leaning against Namjoon’s apartment building as he sorts through his keyring looking for the right one.
“Do you wanna come up?” Somewhere around twenty different excuses and explanations for asking flash through Namjoon’s mind, but he holds his tongue and leaves the offer as it is.
Seokjin nods, and Namjoon can’t quite hold back his smile.
✶
“You asked me why I turn everything into a joke.” They’re settled into Namjoon’s couch, drinking grape pop and warming up their toes under the throw with Jimin’s face on it he bought for Namjoon last year.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Namjoon says, setting down his glass to burrow a little further into the blanket and shuffle his toes underneath Seokjin’s butt for added heat, “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Nah,” Seokjin starts, shifting so Namjoon’s feet are more comfortable underneath him, “we should deal with it.”
Namjoon isn’t sure what to say to that, settles on nodding.
Seokjin sighs, “I think it’s easier? If everything’s a joke then there’s less of a chance of me getting hurt? God, that’s dumb. I sound like every bad drama lead ever.”
“You’ve got the face for it,” Namjoon says without thinking. The laugh Seokjin lets out is worth the embarrassment, he decides.
“I know it seems like I brush things off,” Seokjin says, and Namjoon pretends not to notice the way he’s worrying at his sleeves, “but i’m not as aloof as you think.”
Namjoon frowns at that, “I don’t think you’re aloof. Purposely avoidant, maybe, but not that.”
Seokjin hums, eyes shifting to focus on a spot behind Namjoon. “Well,” he starts,”I should get going. Just gonna use your bathroom first.”
“Sure, don’t need permission from me.”
Namjoon gets up while he’s gone, brings their glasses into the kitchen and tries not to think too hard about the way Seokjin just opened up. If he lets himself he’ll get the wrong idea about why and start getting thoughts in his head about what he means to Seokjin. Namjoon is okay with this, he’s fine.
Maybe when he feels like he knows him a little better Namjoon will have the courage to act on things, the courage to tell Seokjin how he feels despite the risk it poses to their friend group. For now, though. This is alright.
Namjoon doesn’t even notice Seokjin’s back until there’s a chin on his shoulder and breath in his ear. He does his best not to flinch, though that might cover the tracks of his racing heart a little better. Namjoon sets down his clean glass on the dishrack, “I didn’t pour yours out in case you weren’t finished.”
Seokjin hums, and for a moment Namjoon thinks he’s going to stay. That maybe he’ll just wrap his arms around Namjoon’s waist, twist his head just so to close the distance and leave soft kisses on his bared neck.
But then he’s gone, just a ghost of warmth on Namjoon’s shoulder as he grabs his glass and downs the last of his pop. “You know me so well,” he says fondly, punctuating his sentence with a loud burp and setting his glass down in the sink.
Namjoon feels him watching as he washes the glass and sets it down next to his own on the rack. “Thanks for indulging me today, hyung. I know it probably wasn’t what you had in mind.”
“Nonsense,” Seokjin says, “I’m always glad to spend time with you.”
Namjoon manages to give Seokjin a small smile as he rolls his eyes, intent on not taking anything too flattering to heart.
“Joon?”
Namjoon meets Seokjin’s eyes, sees him something close to nervous. “Yeah?”
Seokjin bites at his bottom lip, and it takes Herculean effort not to fixate on. “I’m glad I was the person you wanted with you today.”
Namjoon’s eyes drop to his sock clad feet as he feels his cheeks heat up, just a bit. When he looks back up he finds Seokjin staring back at him like he’s thinking something over.
It’s not a fast thing, not some spur of the moment happening Namjoon couldn’t see coming. It’s slow and intentional and overwhelming as Seokjin steps closer, takes Namjoons face in his hands, tilts it down slightly so their eyes meet. “I’m sorry for playing dumb,” he says, and Namjoon nods into the warmth of his palms, “I’m sorry for acting like I didn’t know what you meant earlier, like I haven’t known what you’ve been meaning for a while now.” Namjoon brings his own hand up to cover one of Seokjin’s own.
The kiss is something. Namjoon doesn’t let himself think it out, loses himself in the feel of Seokjin’s slightly chapped lips against his own. Tastes the tang of grape pop cut through with just a hint of cinnamon. Wants to hold Seokjin tighter to him than is probably possible, grabs at his jacket and tries all the same.
Namjoon feels like his brain is shot as he pulls away, soft kisses enough to have him melting to goo from the inside and looking Seokjin straight in the eye to tell him “thank you.”
Seokjin laughs, high and squeaky into Namjoon’s shoulder as Namjoon realizes just how lame he’s been. “For your honesty.” He adds on quickly, though the mhmm Seokjin hums seems to belie how little he believes Namjoon’s cover.
When he pulls back, he looks happy. He looks like he’s handling himself a little better than Namjoon, sure. But there’s a dopey smile on his face and the genuine contentedness there is enough to have Namjoon leaning back in for one more chaste kiss.
“Is this what happens when you’re honest with people?” They’re forehead to forehead now, and it feels like so much. Namjoon can’t stop smiling.
“If you tell me how you really felt about that bread I made last month you might even get a french kiss out of it.”
“Needed salt,” he says quickly, leaving a peck on Namjoon’s lips, “should’ve let it rise longer,” a peck to his nose, “that was way too much food colouring,” Namjoon snorts out a laugh despite himself, almost missing the way Seokjin’s voice gets all quiet, “and I like you too.”
Maybe he doesn’t have to worry so much about knowing Seokjin completely right this second. Maybe they can figure out the details as they go, find their feet with hands clasped for balance. And really, how well can you know another person?
“Noted,” Namjoon says, holding Seokjin close and finally kissing him the way he’s always wanted.