Chapter Text
They’ve been there before, dancing, panting, in that mental state where none of them laughs or dares joking around. They‘re about to go on Love Yourself : Tear’s promotion, and god forbid if they happened to not be ready.
Namjoon feels like he’s sweated the equivalent of a gallon water since they’ve started and his lungs have been hurting for the past half-hour. He‘s exhausted but Hoseok’s next words comfort him in the impression he had of himself.
“Not quite there Joonie; you’ve almost got it. Five, six, seven, eight — one, two - your foot - four ; yes. Yes that one was the good one.”
He licks the underside of his lip, proud of himself and Jungkook asks for a break, massaging his thighs and rolling his neck as Jin and Taehyung sit in a corner with a snack.
A towel around his neck, Yoongi hands him one, his smile half frozen in a pout, or the other way around, one could wonder.
“Let’s not train after ten, we need to rest before tomorrow.”
He feels like they’re all worn out from their schedule, the album they’ve released, the incoming promotion, tour and composing in between dates. Puffy-eyed, chronic pain visible in the way they wince when they move once the adrenaline wears off, they don’t look anything like they’ll look like when they leave for the airport in the morning.
They keep at it for another couple of hours, shoes squeaking on a polished floor, ragged breathing and cheering in between choreographies. When their choreographer signals them to stop for the night, Hoseok tiredly claps his hand, noisy enough for everyone, all of the younger ones joining him for an impromptu freestyle, something tiresome and fun to shake away the nerves they built-up during the rehearsal.
Seokjin and Namjoon let themselves lean on the wall opposing their training mirror, seeing their friends’ movements and sparks of their faces when the angle permits it. Yoongi joins them a few minutes later, entranced as well by the others’ energy and skill.
Jungkook’s the most infuriating, so young and yet so talented, his body a receptacle of his immense will. Namjoon doesn’t count the times he and everyone else have stopped him from pushing himself too far, training too hard. It always reminds him of Jimin’s younger days.
Hoseok comes right after, movements perfectly precise, controlled and yet fluid. His energy is laced with power, something wicked between kindness and seduction. Namjoon still doesn’t get how he does it, but Jin stares intently, mentally taking notes, and Yoongi seems enthralled. It makes Namjoon smile, and he catches Hoseok smirking at his friend, steadily dropping to his knees, Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung closely following.
The latter still has some reserve about seriously dancing, sometimes hesitantly moving, or on the contrary, fooling around to keep the upper hand on those who can make fun of him. If anything, everyone in the team is glad he’s getting confident enough to shine on his own. Namjoon can’t wait to see him grow even more.
And Jimin — Jimin’s movements are the ones that always get him on edge ; jaw clenched or tongue worrying against his cheek. Jimin’s feline, languid ; he lacks Hoseok’s precision, but his presence is ethereal and he always - always - ends up caught up in it.
He’d taken it for jealousy, for years, at first, profound jealousy at his seemingly innate talent. He’d thought it had been misplaced rancor until he’d tumbled on him, years ago, when his weight would still fluctuate every couple weeks, worrying everyone. He’d found him in the middle of the night, exercising, eyes closed, his whole body shaking with effort, obviously having been working out for a longer time than he should’ve.
He’d witnessed what he wouldn’t talk about during their group discussions, the weakness apparent in his taunt traits ; and Namjoon had walked up to him, making enough noise as not to scare him, and had put a hand on his shoulder until Jimin had stopped his series of push-ups. He’d moved his body until he knelt next to him, and he’d started silently crying, his body shaking from exertion, his voice caught up in his throat. Any noise would’ve required a strength he didn’t have at ass o’ clock in the morning.
Namjoon had helped him to their shower, trying to not wake up their friends ; he had sat on their sink, waiting for him to finish washing up, and he’d made him drink, telling him they’d talk about it in the morning.
And they had. They had, just the two of them, and then all together. They had talked in the morning, even though he had barely slept the night before, thinking over and over at the pull in his chest when Jimin had pulled him close for a hug, stripped off any of his usual bravado, fists clenched around his shirt, nose pressed against his collarbone, his body telling his he trusted him.
They’d talked about this issue, but Namjoon had kept that one to himself.
In the silence, behind closed doors, he’d talked about it with Bang PD, he’d seen a nutritionist, a therapist, here and there, mostly online during their tours, but he’d reached out ; and today — today felt better than it used to. He seemed in control, and Namjoon was glad for it, grateful for their growth. They had been difficult times but Jimin had made it and they couldn’t be more proud of him.
They’d grown and maybe the pull in his chest would stop tugging one of these days. It hadn’t stopped radiating in a way he couldn’t ignore after that night, and it had been years, but maybe it would stop someday. It better.
Yoongi’s head falls on his shoulder and Namjoon reaches for his leg. Resting his hand on it, the both of them cuddle as Jin cheers their friends on, sometimes lightly hitting Namjoon‘s knee.
“What’s with that stamina ?” He asks as Jin snorts.
“We’re growing old, get used to it.”
“Shut up.” Yoongi sternly replies. “You can talk for yourself.”
“And Hoseok’s a bit older than me, mind you.” Namjoon supplies.
“Doesn’t count, he sold his soul to dance forever.” Jin replies, and the three of them hum, falling silent once again, as if it was a convincing explanation.
“Ramen ?” Yoongi coarsely offers, and the two others nod, wincing as they get up.
They leave the training room as the others are daring themselves to complete complex dance moves. Namjoon tries not to spare them a glance, to the exception of Jungkook he high-fives on his way out.
It doesn’t take them long to stop dancing and join them all sweaty and flushed in the kitchen.
The rest of the night rolls by, the lots of them taking turns to wash themselves, Namjoon and Taehyung appreciating their balcony before leaving their flat for a few weeks. Jungkook and Jin play video games as Hoseok massages Jimin’s calves, Yoongi under the shower. They all love these quiet nights where they barely talk, don’t have to. Namjoon could write them a song on the spot, thanking them over and over for their presence in his life. Taehyung seems to wordlessly get it as they both stare at their friends inside for what feels like half an hour before he speaks up again.
“I’ve been working on something. Can I show it to you soon ?”
A week rarely goes by without the two of them spending time together, in companionable silence or hushed discussions. They talk about themselves, their families - blood-related, and passion-related -, art and creation, over a coffee, in hotel halls, in between two flights, by texts ; they’re close and trusting of each other.
“Of course ? Not tonight, my brain’s fried, but seat next to me during the flight or whenever you want this week. Okay ?”
“Thanks, hyung.”
And Namjoon slips his arm around his shoulders, smiling, as an answer.
He’s lazing around, face mask on, Hoseok and Taehyung rapping in one of their bedrooms, Yoongi conspiring with Jungkook in the kitchen - they’re both smiling -, Jin texting his parents next to them, and he’s sitting on one of their couches, trying to think of a new melody.
He doesn’t hear Jimin walking up to him until he’s sitting behind him. Namjoon doesn’t try to turn around, side pressed against the fabric, notebook on his lap ; and Jimin looks over his shoulder, humming the few notes he’s managed to scribble down.
« Always working, aren’t you hyung ? » Jimin’s voice is soft in his back.
« Sure am. The album isn’t gonna wrap itself up. » He smiles to himself, tired and satisfied with how it’s advancing.
His friend starts massaging his shoulders, improvising the following notes of what he’s composed so far, fingers kneading the skin between his trapezius and his neck. Namjoon can sense his smile from where he’s sitting, relaxing a little.
“Aren’t you working on my song ?” And now he’s sounds plainly—
“Cocky aren’t you ? Show me some respect.” He answers, but he’s quietly laughing, crescent-shaped eyes confessing the good mood he’s in.
“I’m just saying.”
Jimin’s fingers are working around his cervicales and he shivers a little. He writes down in a parenthesis the notes his friend is humming.
“Thanks for this Jimin-ssi, you wouldn’t know how painful it is for your spine to grow up that much and that fast.”
At first, the fingers on his neck go down, lightly scratching his nape, stopping around his shoulder blades, thumbing the sore muscle around the bone. But then, Namjoon turns around and finds him pouting a little, eliciting a laughter within him.
“Aww, don’t be sad about how small you are.”
“Yoongi hyung’s smaller than me.”
If Jimin was pouting before, now, he clearly looked offended : brows furrowed, indignant smile, thumbs kneading Namjoon’s lower back with more strength than necessary.
The older one amusedly sighs, blindly reaching behind to rest his hand on his friend’s thigh.
“Sorry, I’ll work on the full version of your song this week. Maybe faster if you keep doing this while I work on it.”
And Jimin’s smile on his face is almost as distracting as the muscle tensing under his palm.
“You’re the best !”
Abandoning any semblance of massage, his arms reach around Namjoon’s waist, cheek pressed against his shoulder blade, and none of them talks for some time. Jimin’s the one speaking up again.
“Did you see that eight step turn and drop move I made earlier with Hoseok ?”
His voice is tired but he sounds excited, proud of himself.
“The one Jin spent half an hour trying to recreate after you showed him when we finished dinner ?” He feels him nod against his back, and his chest feels warmer than it should. “You looked great, I know that’s what you wanna know. You’ll have to teach me.”
His heart tightens at the same time his friend’s arms do around his belly, and Jimin promises him he’ll do exactly that. There they have it, dance practice, (maybe) composing and massages scheduled for next week.
Namjoon hasn’t feel that weirdly nervous in a while.
Jimin goes back to his lower back, unraveling the knots there, softly whispering a tune the elder absentmindedly writes down in his notebook, adding a few notes here and there, on paper at first, and then harmonizing to Jimin’s. He’s drifting away, been dozing off for the past ten minutes, when his friend’s voice gets closer, fingers tickling up to his nape, hovering along his hairline, nudging him to get some sleep.