Work Text:
yoongi is cold.
he’s freezing, actually, right to the bone. he suspects the numbness has been there a while, a niggling thing that has been following him around since his middle school years.
it felt like slowly being lowered into a boiling pot, except the pot is freezing cold water that seeps underneath yoongi’s skin and homes on his eyelashes and is only really, really felt when yoongi’s finally completely submerged.
and tonight, he was submerged. fuck, he was fully drowning, throat-dry drowning, gasping for air drowning, grab his keys and drive to wherever to escape the persistent cold drowning.
it’s how he finds himself on the beach at nine thirty at night.
he doesn’t stray far from the entrance. simply sits on a small bed of rocks (the jagged surface is grounding—it serves to remind him that he’s of this earth too) and watches. watches the way the waves kiss the shore, tentative and shy and cold and taunting, and for once the cold wraps itself around yoongi like the waves pulls the shore into sea with it, somewhat comforting in its refusal to leave him be.
in his daze, he feels the presence over his shoulder before he sees it.
“it’s pretty cold tonight, you should pick a warmer place to chill out,” a disembodied voice comments lightly. yoongi almost breaks his neck trying to twist around to see where it was coming from.
there’s a tall man standing behind him, dressed in an aesthetic that had yoongi’s eyes lingering, traveling from his long coat to his round face to the ridiculous ryan cap on his head.
“uh.” fucking shit, “do i know you?”
“no, you don’t. i’m namjoon,” namjoon says, rounding the bench to stand before yoongi. yoongi stares up at him in disbelief.
“okay, uh, cool. well, if you’re here to mug me or anything, namjoon, i have nothing on me.”
namjoon actually seems to think on it for a moment. yoongi tries not to be thoroughly baffled. or annoyed. he had come here to be alone, not discuss robbing strategies with a complete stranger.
“do you have an apartment?”
he makes an exasperated noise. “why are you asking?
“so i can rob you where it’s warm instead.”
yoongi pauses on his reply. if he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek to stop from cracking a smile, well that’s nobody’s business.
namjoon is watching him, and maybe yoongi isn’t as inconspicuous as he thinks, cause he smiles too, finally settling himself into the rocks next to him.
“there’s a bench right over there,” namjoon says, as if yoongi couldn’t see it on his way here, as if yoongi wouldn’t have sat on it if he wanted to.
“listen,” yoongi deadpans, cutting the stranger a look, “if what you’re looking for is some spontaneous, promising company, then i’m afraid you’re about to be severely disappointed.”
namjoon’s lips (he has lips, oh) purse in consideration. yoongi tears his eyes away.
“i think you’d need it more than i would, anyways.”
yoongi huffs. what’s that supposed to mean?
“what the hell do you want, then?”
“nothing,” namjoon shrugs. “i wouldn’t be able to sleep if i didn’t come over and ask what’s up.”
“so this is pity company?”
“not pity. concern.”
“well, i’m fine” yoongi says as convincingly as he can. namjoon shoots him a skeptical look. which yoongi doesn’t appreciate. he doesn’t like being looked through, dissected or prodded into, and this man is doing both with just one glance.
“with all due respect, but you’re literally crying. on a beach.”
“i’m fine,” yoongi punctuates flatly. namjoon’s raises his hands in surrender.
“right, alright. if you say so”
okay. yoongi hunches his shoulders against the cold breeze. “guess that means you can go sleep soundly now.”
“guess it does.”
namjoon isn’t showing any signs that he’s planning on moving anytime soon though. yoongi sighs in defeat.
“do you come around to bother random strangers on the beach often?”
“am i bothering you?” namjoon inquires. he doesn’t sound offended by the prospect.
well. “yes, very much so.”
“that’s fair. tell me to leave you alone and i will.”
yoongi sets his shoulders. “you annoying little...” he mutters, and namjoon smiles triumphantly.
“to answer your question, no, i don’t. needed a breath of fresh air and some inspiration, though, so i decided it’d be worth the trip.” namjoon raises an eyebrow. “do you come out here to cry like you’re the lead of a romantic k-drama often?”
yoongi ignores his question. “there’s a lot weirdos out at this time. not a good idea for a pretty boy like you.”
both of namjoon’s eyebrows shoot up this time. yoongi wants to eat his words the second they left his mouth. he refuses to look him in the eye anymore.
“you think i’m pretty?” namjoon laughs. his voice sounds warm. yoongi imagines his face might be, too.
“harmless observation,” he mumbles, desperately fishing for a way to change the subject.
namjoon picks out a pebble from the ground, one with odd coloring. he toys with it, rolling it between his fingers with mesmerizing grace. “how do i know you’re not one of those random weirdos?”
yoongi watches his fingers move. long a pretty.
he shrugs. “you don’t. you sat next to me, remember? ever heard of stranger danger?”
namjoon laughs through his nose. “touché.”
yoongi averts his gaze when namjoon skips the pebble away. he doesn’t know why he suddenly wants to fill every silence between them, between a man he met hardly ten minutes ago, doesn’t like how he likes how namjoon’s words nip at him like fire thawing ice.
he swipes at his eyes a withering sigh.
“my cat ran away.”
namjoon turns to him questioningly. “what was that?”
“my cat,” yoongi repeated, eyes scanning the ground. he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. “she ran away the other night. took almost a week for her to come back home.”
namjoon’s face is unreadable when yoongi looks up, simply because there are millions of emotions gliding across it. he picks out the confusion in his voice, however, when he asks, “but...she came home? right?”
yoongi shrugs halfheartedly. “well, yeah, she did,” he mumbles.
namjoon lilts his head. “is that why you’re here? because you’re cat came home?”
yoongi shook his head, sinking into his coat as he realizes how stupid this all sounds. he voices it too. “this must sound so stupid.”
namjoon shrugs. “i’ve heard odder things.”
yoongi smiles wryly.
“it’s not because she came home. god, it was such a damn relief when she came home. i thought i could cry, or collapse, or both. well. spoiler, i opted for both.” namjoon’s looks like he might laugh, but he only smiles, small but warm. it encourages yoongi to continue.
“it’s just. ever since she left, even when she came back, i’ve been wondering what i had to have done that drove her to leave in the first place, and for so long.”
“but ultimately, she came back, didn’t she? won’t dwelling on the past hold you from moving forward?” namjoon suggests.
“or maybe if i knew my past mistakes i could entirely avoid remaking them in the future.”
namjoon grins around pursed lips (stop staring, stop staring). “touché, once again.”
yoongi leans back, takes in the gleaming sky ahead. the vastness is comforting while simultaneously giving him a headache. he likes to think that somewhere in a far off dimension, an alternative him isn’t sitting on rocks with a stranger with pretty lips and winning morals. that in a universe so big, he was absolutely nothing.
he smiled.
“think i have some idea, though. i was neglectful. or i cared too much. or in the wrong ways. both are equally damaging. i do this thing sometimes where i sorta disappear into my self, into my work and such. it’s a sucky coping mechanism. but i guess, even while throwing myself into work, i took some comfort in caring for another being, like maybe even if everything else in my life is going all possible ways wrong at least this is the one thing i can’t possibly screw up, right?” he doesn’t realize he’s choking on his words until he stops talking and tries to laugh and it comes out sounding like a strangled, pathetic cry.
“sorry,” he muttered, swiping angrily at his eyes. how humiliating, breaking down in front of a complete stranger. the absolute icing to this evening’s cake. “this is ridiculous. i...”
he pauses, peels his eyes open.
namjoon has one hand hovering over the hand yoongi has plastered on his face. his eyes tentative, careful.
“can i?” he asks quietly. yoongi finds himself nodding instantly without knowing what he’s agreeing to.
namjoon reaches out, clasps his hand around yoongi’s. his hand is only slightly bigger than yoongi’s, and his palm is slightly calloused and warming in a way that settles deep into yoongi’s bones.
namjoon gently lowers yoongi’s hand from his face, setting his hand in his lap. he doesn’t look like he’s planning on letting go.
“touching your face isn’t good for your skin,” namjoon mumbles, eyes outlining yoongi’s hand. yoongi watches him turn his hand over, watches him trace his fingers along the knuckles. “your skin is too pretty for that.”
yoongi has a sinking realization that in his blind haste to leave his apartment he had forgotten he had no makeup on. he could only imagine how blotchy and red his face looked right now, and the misery could only be buried by the accompanying floating elation he felt because
your skin is too pretty for that
“stop that. we’re strangers,” yoongi breathes. he finds it strangely hard to do so. “we met less than ten minutes ago. why are we holding hands.”
namjoon grins. yoongi tried hard (fails hard) not to be effected. “if your blush is anything to go by, i think you like it.”
yoongi groans loudly, tucking his face away into his available elbow.
namjoon is laughing (it’s pretty, pretty just like everything he‘s done so far, it’s warm and thawing and yoongi is thawing) and yoongi only groans more, “i can’t be held accountable for any of my actions tonight. i’m a certified mess.”
“i’m not the most organized person either, so don’t feel too insecure.”
yoongi smiles wider than he meant to, feels himself inching into namjoon’s space (get it together, get it together, you barely know him, get it together)
“you can hug me,” namjoon teases quietly, and yoongi flushes defiantly, instantly wedging himself into namjoon’s side. “it’s cold,” came his lame excuse. namjoon only laughs again.
“you know,” he says thoughtfully. “if my opinion counts for anything, i don’t think you’re a bad owner. not insulating you think you are one, just.” he inhales deeply. “whenever i start feeling bad about myself over things like this i just remember that bad people—or in your case, bad owners—will never stop to wonder if the are. bad, i mean.” he’s looking at yoongi solemnly. yoongi might be in love.
“i might be in love,” he mumbles, sighing into namjoon’s arm.
he hears a small, strange noise from namjoon.
“that was quick,” the laugh again, “was that good?”
yoongi is suddenly very exhausted, too exhausted to register how namjoon’s pleased face is flushing and how his fingers feel on his hand and how that probably was not his most intelligent response.
maybe he shouldn’t have said it at all.
he finds himself not caring.
“yeah,” he says. “very good.”
he realizes with a surprised jolt that he’s stopped crying.
“i never got your name,” namjoon said lightly, sparing yoongi a glance.
“wasn’t offering it,” yoongi deadpans, except it doesn’t deliver with impact because his nose it stuffed into namjoon’s warm side and there he goes again, laughing laughing laughing.
namjoon nudges him playfully. “and here i was, thinking we bonded?”
“we met ten minutes ago.”
“twenty and change, actually. the change counts.”
“not to me, it doesn’t.”
“ouch.” namjoon’s hand is burning on his thigh. “well, you could tell me anyways.”
yoongi watches namjoon lace and unlace their fingers together. it’s strangely therapeutic. yoongi could fall asleep. “give me a reason i should.”
namjoon hums. “do you have a reason not to?”
yoongi contemplates for a second. namjoon waits patiently.
finally, “you got me there.”
he can feel namjoon’s victorious smile through the small squeeze his hand received.
“i wait in dire anticipation.”
“yoongi,” he says. “my name is yoongi.”
namjoon hums thoughtfully. “yoongi. yoongi.” he sounds like he’s testing the name on his tongue. yoongi likes how his name sounds on it. “hm. cute.”
“you think so?” yoongi mumbles gravelly, trying not to entertain how pleased he felt, trying not to notice how his face was warming up like he was a teenager all over again.
namjoon’s reply comes easily, “‘course i do. i said so, didn’t i?”
“well,” yoongi clears his throat. all those careless tears were starting to catch up with him. “ah. thanks for. you know.”
namjoon squeezes his hand. “don’t mention it.”
so yoongi doesn’t.
(he’s thawing, he’s thawing,)
“it shouldn’t be this easy to trust a complete stranger,” he grumbles into namjoon’s shoulder. “you probably drugged me without me knowing. i should be calling the police.”
namjoon laughs and up close, the sound feels like a hug. he hopes namjoon won’t mind if he presses in closer to listen.
“and you were warning me about stranger danger,” namjoon teases. yoongi shrugs helplessly.
“touché.”
(he’s thawed.)