Work Text:
Namjoon has so many thoughts in his head. So many ideas. He likes to share them, needs to share them. He needs to know that he’s not the only person who feels this way. The only person who’s thought these things. He craves validation.
He thinks making music is both the best and worst outlet for that.
On one hand he’s forced to confront his thoughts and organize them into something concise and digestible so that others can hear his words and think oh, it’s not just me. On the other hand he is left waiting for the validation, hoping people will comment on it and tell him they understand. Because while Namjoon loves knowing he could provide support to a listener, he desperately needs someone to tell him “it’s not just you”.
He’s sitting in the studio that’s stuffy and too small for four people but it’s currently sitting five, and he’s talking. He’s talking with his hands and he’s starting to talk too fast, he can feel his words start to bubble together and rush out like the top of a waterfall, the river rushing and fumbling over the rocks at the edge. He can see how they’re hitting everyone, foaming and dissipating and mingling.
He watches the soft head bobs and furrowed eyebrows and he’s thinking that his words have power. His words are making people think. They’re important.
“Namjoon-ah! I feel like every time you talk I’m back in school again,” the producers and managers huff out laughter in agreement.
“I just think the injustices are more than individual, they’re systemic,” Namjoom summarizes with a shrug. Everyone is nodding and agreeing and complimenting him and Namjoon feels warmth spread through him, knowing that others understand. Knowing that he’s not alone with his thoughts. He see’s Yoongi sitting in the corner with his legs curled under him and he’s looking at the room of people looking disinterested.
Yoongi and Namjoon have been living together for three months and it’s… Namjoon doesn’t usually struggle with words, he has a very large vocabulary in more than one language. But he doesn’t have a word to quite explain living with Yoongi. He doesn’t have the words to explain Yoongi either. He thinks if he had to narrow it down to one word it would be: contradictory.
Yoongi is passionate and stubborn and hard working, but sometimes he’ll stay in bed until late in the afternoon and complain about dance practices and avoid chiming in on discussions Namjoon knows he has thoughts about. Sometimes he’ll spread out listening to his music loud enough to hurt and other times he’ll curl in on himself and look out the small window of their dorm in silence. He’s quick to smile and laugh and joke, but sometimes he stays quiet and watches everyone else instead of joining in.
Yoongi is an enigma to Namjoon. More so than most humans. Namjoon knows you can’t read minds but sometimes he thinks he can’t read Yoongi, period.
Yoongi stays curled up in the corner, not quite rolling his eyes but close enough that it irritates Namjoon to no end. The producers and managers leave to go to a concept meeting, while Namjoon and Yoongi stay in the studio to talk about possible debut tracks and sounds.
Namjoon opens up their respective projects and starts playing them. Moves some beats and sound effects. Listens. He’s waiting for Yoongi to say something but he doesn’t. He just sits there, staring at Namjoon or maybe staring through him. Namjoon hits the spacebar to pause the music, harder than he means to. He winces a little as he turns the chair to look at Yoongi.
“You didn’t talk much today, Hyung.”
Yoongi shrugs with one shoulder, “I didn’t have much to say.”
“You didn’t have anything to say on systemic inequality en masse?” he asks unbelieving. Yoongi shrugs again, still just staring. “Hyung I’ve seen your worn out paperbacks filled with essays and opinions on societal wrongdoings.”
He stretches out his legs, “I just didn’t think my thoughts mattered in a fake conversation.” He stands up with a yawn.
“How was it a ‘fake conversation’, Hyung? We were all sitting in here together talking.”
“No, Namjoon-ah. You were talking and saying things that are empirically accurate so that everyone else in the room could say, ‘Wow, Namjoon-ah you’re so smart’, ‘Namjoon-ah you’re so thoughtful’, ‘Oh, Namjoon-ah you’re so good with your words’. Which is fine to want validation for your ideas but, a circle jerk isn’t a conversation.”
Namjoon’s mind has never felt so empty in his life. He stares up at Yoongi who’s slouching by the door, putting his jacket on.
“I’m gonna go back to the dorm,” he announces as he adjusts his shirt under his jacket.
“You’re kind of an asshole, Hyung.” Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up and a slow smile spreads across his lips. Namjoon didn’t mean to say it. He didn’t even know he’d thought it until it was already living between them, too far gone to take back.
“Maybe so. But am I wrong?” Yoongi waves and nods before leaving Namjoon staring after him. The door clicks shut and it feels like it reverberates in the small room. Reverberates in his bones. He feels his chin start to jut out in irritation.
Where does one Min Yoongi get off telling him he’s not listening. That he’s just trying to talk to be impressive instead of to connect. At least Namjoon makes an effort!
He leans back in the chair and looks up at the ceiling. There’s a tiny water spot forming, or maybe it’s just a shadow. There’s a pattern in the paint that Namjoon is following with his eyes, Yoongi’s words setting between his bones, heavy and full. His thoughts weaving between them, defensive and aggressive retaliating.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there. How long he lets the words eat at him until there’s no anger left, only reflection.
He wonders if along the way he stopped considering certain conversations to have a back and forth, did he just see certain people as a sounding board for him to talk at so he wasn’t technically talking to himself. If no one says anything back then they can’t disagree and tell you that you’re the only one who thinks that way. The only one who feels that way.
He saves his nonexistent work and closes down the computer before putting headphones in and heading back to the dorm. It’s later than he thought. The city is mostly asleep, only a few people waiting for the last buses of the night. It feels fitting.
He’s sitting on the bus as signs and closed business pass by and he can’t get Yoongi’s slow smile out of his head. Because maybe Yoongi did have a point, but why did he look like that. Did he need to be right so bad that he wanted to rub it in Namjoon’s face? Did he not care that Namjoon could be upset because of his words? And why those words specifically?
Namjoon rubs at his face and soft irritation bubbles under his skin. Not enough to do anything or say anything, more like a tickle at the back of his throat that he keeps trying to clear out.
He gets in their dorm and takes his shoes off by the door, followed by his jacket. There’s only one lamp on by the kitchen and no lights in the bedroom so Namjoon assumes Yoongi is asleep. Which, for some reason, only irritates him more. He just decided that they weren’t going to talk about it? Was he avoiding the conversation? Did he not think it was worth having? Namjoon had called him an asshole and Yoongi didn’t think they needed to talk?
He turns the light off and changes in the bedroom quickly before climbing into his bed. He’s laying on his back staring up at the dark ceiling with Yoongi’s soft breathing in the background and he’s annoyed. He’s considering waking him up. Making him talk. But then he questions if that would be a real conversation.
Min Yoongi is sleeping in the same room as him and he can’t say everything that he wants to say and he has no idea how to tell Yoongi how utterly fucked he has made Namjoon feel with a single comment.
He knows Yoongi has a sharp tongue, they’ve snuck out to underground battles at bars he’s definitely not old enough to get into. He’s hyped Yoongi up from the sidelines as he rearranges phrases and insults till they’re sharp enough to wound, never kill. The dead can’t pass along your name as a warning.
Namjoon thinks of Yoongi’s own poetic insights, the way he’ll go on about the expectations for idols, the challenges between doing what you want and what everyone else wants from you. He’s listened to Yoongi’s passing comments on his latest irritation. So how is that not the same thing. How is Yoongi not circle jerking?
Yoongi, talking emphatically with his hands as he’s explaining how something is unjust or how something is necessary but unnecessarily complicated and he can talk for an hour straight with no interruptions! He’ll just keep talking with a slight pout and the hint of a lisp and hands flying! But that isn’t circle jerking! Namjoon huffs and tries to make himself more comfortable in his bed.
He does know that he can’t wake Yoongi up right now to talk about it. He does. But that doesn’t make it any easier to stop himself from doing it. Because his words are building up and he feels like he’s going to explode with it all if he doesn’t get it out soon. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and tries to make himself fall asleep. They have to get more work done tomorrow so he needs to get sleep. He can talk to Yoongi tomorrow.
He doesn’t get a chance to talk to Yoongi the next day. Namjoon’s schedule is focusing on his position as leader. He has to sit in on meetings with the managers, he talks to the producers to get ideas. They talk about concepts and trainees and timelines and Namjoon doesn’t hate it but it’s definitely not what he expected when he signed up.
Yoongi is working on choreography with the other trainees. There are a few that the company is thinking of adding to their group and dorm but Namjoon can’t discuss it yet. So he adds it to the ever-growing list of things eating away at him.
He remembers hearing that different brains have different thought patterns. Most brains have the singular line of thought, with smaller passing thoughts that don’t interact or interfere. One track minds. It’s less-so focusing on a singular task until it’s completed and more-so being unable to think and dissect more than one idea at a time.
Namjoon wishes he had that brain.
Namjoon’s brain is like a highway. It’s a multi-track mind. At any given moment he has four trains of thought co-existing at the same time, separately going about their paths until it’s reached a logical conclusion.
On one track he’s going over the ideas the managers brought up in the meetings. On another track he’s thinking about how the living dynamic might shift having more people move into the dorm, and how many more people would be able to live in their dorm anyway? Another track is thinking about a beat that’s been stuck in his head that he needs to find time to mess with in the studio, along with a hook that’s rattling around between high hats. And on the final track is Yoongi’s slow smile playing over and over with his voice reminding him “a circle jerk is not a conversation”.
Namjoon works on things in the office when he gets a text from Yoongi.
Yoongi Hyung:
i’m working in the studio tonight
you’ll have to do dinner on your own, sorry
Namjoon-ah:
That’s fine, Hyung. What if I work with you?
I had some ideas I wanted to play with.
Yoongi Hyung:
there’s only one computer
Namjoon stares at his screen, because Yoongi has a point. Only one of them would actually be able to work, while the other just sat and listened and chimed in with any thoughts.
Yoongi Hyung:
you can come in tomorrow and listen and tell me what you think
how’s that?
Namjoon’s mouth purses. “Tell me what you think” as though Namjoon won’t listen either?
Namjoon-ah:
Sure, Hyung. We’ll Talk about it tomorrow!
Yoongi Hyung:
k
Namjoon looks at the character on his phone, waiting for it to expand into something more. K. Not even “Okay”. No “Kay”, written out so it shows effort. Just. K.
Namjoon thinks he hates Yoongi. Just a little bit. Maybe a lotta bit in this current moment. Maybe hate is too strong of a word. They’re going to be working together in the future, they’re supposed to be in a group together, they’re supposed to debut together. He can’t hate him. But he does. Just a little bit.
He’s tired, but he stops at a corner shop to pick up a few packages of instant ramen. He knows they’d run out a few days ago and he isn’t sure what Yoongi’s been eating now that he’s thinking about it. He picks up a few of the Yuk Gae Jung packs, knowing Yoongi would be more willing to eat if it wasn’t as spicy. Plus Namjoon personally enjoyed being able to feel his lips. He adds the packages to their cabinets before making one for himself. He sits on the floor with his ramen in his lap and a notebook on the table next to his phone.
He has a random playlist on shuffle to be background noise so he’s not sitting in silence, and he works on writing out the words that have been building a home in his head. His worries and fears. The drive that he feels when he thinks they’re so close only to be pulled away again. The disappointment at his friends suddenly losing interest in him because he was an “idol” now.
Getting all of his feelings out and he’s left with the desire to want to talk to someone else about it all. He loves to write his thoughts, Namjoon has journals filled with ideas and half-finished scribbles he had always meant to come back to. Writing helps him immensely. But it’s the speaking part that really does it for him.
It’s like the writing brings all the words to the front of his head, on Track One. Then he just needs to speak it and they’re free. The words are out of his head, out of his mouth, and free to affect someone else. Free to help and support someone else rather than burden him.
But now he has everything written and he can only think about how his words aren’t actually affecting anyone because he isn’t really saying anything. Yoongi’s words come back into his head. Track One suddenly gets backed up, the pen stuck in Namjoon’s hand unable to move. The point of a conversation is to connect. But is he connecting or is he unloading. Is that fair to put on someone else? To say “here is support” and instead deliver a burden? An emotional Trojan Horse.
Is it as bad if it’s unintentional?
Can it still be unintentional if Yoongi has shed so much light onto it?
He puts the pen down and closes the notebook knowing that there are no more words that he can write down to make himself feel better. He needs to talk. He needs to sleep. He needs to figure out how six words can leave him a shell of himself, leave him questioning everything about himself.
He pulls out A ramen container and a page from the back of his notebook and scrawls “please eat tonight, hyung”, leaves it on the counter for Yoongi to see when he eventually gets back from the studio.
He’s laying in bed on his side and staring at the wall because he was tired of staring at the ceiling. He’s thinking of how his anger has cooled and reshaped into introspection and he wonders how he can warm it again to reshape it into something continuously malleable. What does he have to do to turn himself gold. Easy to bend and reshape and stretch into something more. Something better.
He falls asleep wondering on one track if gold can withstand rust on it’s own, while another track hopes Yoongi eats tonight.
Namjoon wakes up early the next morning to go into the studio and see what Yoongi worked on and to mess with his own ideas. He notices the ramen container and his note are both gone when he slides his shoes and jacket on by the door.
He has his notebook out next to him so he can look at his notes and remember what his ideas were. Remember which one he wanted to focus on. He’s lining up beats in a new project, layering pieces on top of each other and playing them back until it feels like an echo from his brain to the computer. He saves it and opens up Yoongi’s track from last night.
He plays it all the way through, listening and feeling. Nodding along. He plays it through again, listening closer. He notes where pieces feel too repetitive or where it just feels like something is missing. Mostly he’s impressed though. The beat has highs and lows, it seems to follow its own rhythm that keeps the listener engaged without losing them. It’s balanced. It’s good.
He’s writing down his thoughts when he hears the door to the studio click open. He looks quickly over his shoulder to see Yoongi in an oversized t-shirt and a thick beanie covering up his bed head. “Morning, Hyung,” Namjoon comments before finishing writing his comment.
“Did you listen to it?” Namjoon nods and turns back to look at Yoongi who’s decided to sit on the arm of the sofa instead of the actual sofa. Namjoon lets out a huff but decides it’s not worth saying anything about it. “What did you think?”
“It’s good, Yoongi-hyung. It’s really good,” he shakes his before going more in depth about why it works. How it lends itself to words so easily, like Yoongi’s manage to build a ship when they only expected a raft. It keeps you listening, instead of tuning it out like background noise. It’s chaos in a formula, like if you could bottle it and spread it out carefully and precisely. That’s what Yoongi’s beats sound like.
“Sorry, I’ve been just talking at you for like--”
“That’s what I was going for,” Yoongi interrupts. “I wanted to see if there was a way to bottle inner turmoil and anxiety and put it at the base of a song. Showing how creatively all our actions are built on this bed of chaos and inconsistency and unfamiliarity.” He continues to talk and his eyes are bright as he puts words to the processes that Namjoon could feel. His hands are spread wide as if he’s trying to grasp an idea just out of reach, but if he keeps them open it might come to him willingly.
He’s watching Yoongi go on and on about his idea about a concept he had that he’s still trying to really put a name to. Trying to put real words together instead of half-finished thoughts and Namjoon goes from nodding along and listening intently to irritated because he hasn’t said anything to Yoongi in at least ten minutes. Yoongi has been talking to himself under the ruse of talking to Namjoon.
“You’re circle jerking!” Namjoon exclaims. Yoongi’s mouth falls open mid-sentence and he stares at Namjoon.
“What?”
“You’re doing what you said I do! Circle jerking!”
“This isn’t really the same as sitting in a room full of people metaphorically jerking you off by telling you how smart you are though. It’s just us.”
Namjoon’s mouth is moving open and closed like a fish as he stares at Yoongi, too many words fighting to come out at once while his brain also feels like it’s shut down and can’t think of any words. An abundance of words in a drought.
That slow smile starts to spread across Yoongi’s mouth again and it’s only adding to Namjoon’s irritation, “Wait are you still thinking about that? It’s been like a week.”
“It’s been three days!”
Yoongi shrugs, “Time is a construct.”
“I think I actually hate you,” Namjoon looks at him entirely deadpan.
Yoongi’s smile gets bigger at that and Namjoon can see his shoulders shaking in laughter that he’s barely suppressing. What does Yoongi think is so funny about this? How is it okay for Yoongi to do it but not okay for Namjoon? Does Yoongi not care about the inner turmoil and questioning Namjoon has had for the last three days?
“I just don’t understand! Why call me out specifically? You circle jerk and I circle jerk, so why not just say we’re both jerking it!”
Yoongi chokes on air before saying, “I have never met anyone who overthinks as much as you do while also never thinking before they speak.”
Namjoon can feel his face heat but he presses on because now he’s focused. Yoongi is here and they will talk. “How is this different? You were just talking at me, not trying to have a dialogue. Isn’t that a circle jerk in your book?”
“To me, a circle jerk needs at least four people to really count. This is just handjobs.”
Namjoon’s eyes flick down to Yoongi’s hands and then to his mouth and back to his eyes in quick succession and he doesn’t think that Yoongi didn’t notice but he’s hoping Yoongi won’t mention it because Namjoon can’t explain the way his brain just short-circuited.
Yoongi tilts his head ever so slightly, a question without words and Namjoon doesn’t know how to answer. Doesn’t know what the question is. Did he ask it first? Has he been asking questions that Yoongi has been answering back in his own way?
Yoongi smiles softly, head still off-center, and he asks quietly, “What else did you what to talk about, Namjoon-ah?”
Namjoon rubs his hand against his jeans and takes a breath, “I wanted to talk about concept ideas. I liked what you were saying earlier and I think we should pitch that as an aspect to our dynamic.”
“Do you think people are really gonna be interested in anxiously depressed rappers in Seoul?” Sometimes Yoongi talks about things in a way that makes Namjoon think he’s already torn it apart and tried to put it back together again, but he didn’t have tape or glue so he presses it tight and hopes for the best. Usually it’s himself that he’s talking about.
“Probably not at first,” Namjoon admits with a soft smile. “But I think… Eventually.” He shrugs and leans back in the chair looking up at the ceiling. “I think people just like knowing they’re not alone, Hyung.”
There’s a soft “ahh” from the other side of the room and Namjoon isn’t sure if it’s Yoongi agreeing or sighing because Namjoon’s getting sentimental again. He looks over and sees Yoongi’s bottom lip pouting while lost in thought. It’s cute and Namjoon is glad that Yoongi was actually listening.
He runs a hand through his hair and pulls himself back to the present, looking back at Namjoon, “I’m more worried about getting to debut, at all. That kind of stuff can come later.” Namjoon nods once. They look at each other for a long moment and it feels like they’re talking without talking. Namjoon wonders if that’s how Yoongi prefers to talk. Is he like a closed book, keeping all the pages to himself, only letting out pieces to those who can read it?
“I should get to dance practice. Hoseok-ah said he’s run through that dance from the video with me,” he slides off the arm of the sofa and starts to stretch.
“Do you like Hoseok-ah, Hyung?” Namjoon asks. He knows he’s one of the names of possible trainees to join them and he’s hoping if they get along already the transition into the dorms will be easier.
“Yeah, he’s talented.” Yoongi shrugs. “Happy too. Just kind of nice to be around, you know?”
Namjoon smiles, “Yeah.” Yoongi waves and turns to leave but Namjoon calls out while Yoongi’s hand is still on the handle, “Hyung!” Yoongi turns with his eyebrows raised and eyes wide and it does something to Namjoon’s heart that he can’t think about right now. “I’m sorry I called you an asshole.”
Yoongi snorts and shakes his head, “To be fair, I do occasionally deserve to be called an asshole. But. You’re forgiven, Joon-ah.” Yoongi ducks out of the studio and Namjoon is left staring after him again but with warmth spreading through his chest as “Joon-ah” spreads like molasses through his body, slow and thick and warm and sweet.
Yoongi’s words stick to Namjoon’s brain like no one else’s. His words are like stickers. They’re not permanent, you can remove them whenever you want, but sometimes they leave a residue behind that you can’t quite remove. It’s not sticky anymore, and only you know it’s still there because you know what used to be there. Those are Yoongi’s words.
Namjoon keeps working in the studio, adds his own ideas to some tracks. He goes to his own practices and schedules. He goes to more meetings. He goes through everything he needs to. And he thinks of Yoongi’s soft smile and “Joon-ah” tumbling out after.
Namjoon is thinking about the future. It seems like late night bus rides do that to him a lot. Maybe it’s the passing neon lights, they remind him of spaceships going into warp speed. Sometimes he wishes he could do that with life. Warp speed past this part. The hard part filled with unknowns and complications and expectations. They could warp speed through that and just end up at their destination where they’re happy and stable and it’s finally good.
He wonders if there’s something to be said for the places you miss when you warp speed though. Do the planets that they’re passing secretly have the best food? The best beaches in the galaxy? Maybe one planet houses a type of plant that nowhere else in the whole universe has. And the explorers warp past it because the journey is just too long.
Maybe you only learn to appreciate those planets when you don’t have the option to warp speed.
He enters the pin for their dorm and goes inside. He hasn’t eaten yet and he’s assuming there’s still at least one pack of ramen left. He’ll have to talk to the managers tomorrow about a grocery money advance.
He slides his shoes off and pauses when he hears a soft humming from the kitchen. “Hyung?”
“Namjoon-ah?” Yoongi answers back. Namjoon moves into the dorm and sees Yoongi mixing the ramen on the stove. His clothes are oversized and his hair still looks damp from a shower. He looks small, as he stirs the noodles in front of him.
Usually when Namjoon thinks Yoongi looks small, it’s with a “but”. He looks small, but I know he’s just cold. He looks small, but the couch is just big. He looks small, but I know he fights dirty. Tonight, in their dorm room kitchen with a soft pout and heavy eyes, Yoongi looks small. No buts.
“I thought you’d be asleep already,” Namjoon leans against the counter. “It smells good, Hyung.”
“It’s two packs,” he answers back without looking away from the pot. There’s the faintest hint of pink to his cheeks and Namjoon pulls out two bowls from the cabinet and places them next to Yoongi. It may only be a sentence, maybe even just a phrase, but Namjoon thinks he’s starting to be able to read Yoongi. Just a little bit.
They’re eating at the small table and their knees are touching between them. They’re talking about their days. It feels like filler. Like they’re just saying things to say things because they don’t want to be sitting in a quiet room except for the slurping of their noodles.
“Hey, Hyung?” Namjoon asks as he pushes his bowl away. Yoongi is leaning back against the couch, eyes closed. He hums in response and Namjoon tries not to notice his throat bob as he swallows around the noise. “You take the bus at night, right?”
“Sometimes, yeah. Why?”
“What do you think about during the ride?” Namjoon is watching Yoongi’s reaction. It’s so small, the way it changes. He keeps his eyes closed but his eyebrows scrunch together the tiniest bit, his bottom lip pouts out just a fraction.
He sighs the tiniest bit and his body looks heavier as it sinks further into the couch, “I don’t know. Usually lyrics. I think about if I’m making the right choice a lot.” He shrugs one shoulder up and opens his eyes slowly to look over at Namjoon. “Why, what do you think about?”
“Tonight I was thinking about space and our place in the universe,” he answers.
Yoongi stares at him for a long moment, eyes blinking slowly, face unreadable. His mouth twitches for a brief second before he huffs out a laugh and his smile is gummy and bright and all Namjoon can think about and then Yoongi shakes his head and says, “God, you’re so fucking pretentious, Joon-ah.”
He’s still laughing and Namjoon is annoyed because he was being honest! He was trying to share his thoughts with Yoongi. He would love to know what Yoongi’s thoughts are on the pros and cons of struggling to achieve something. Does he think the destination is worth the journey? Would Yoongi use warp speed? Namjoon wanted to ask those things but now Yoongi is laughing and he’s too annoyed to go back to it.
“How is that pretentious?” He’s speaking louder than he means to but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“You ride around in a bus in the middle of the night in Seoul contemplating your place in the universe and you don’t see how that’s pretentious?” Yoongi asks incredulously.
“I don’t always think about that! Sometimes I think about you!” Yoongi’s laughter freezes in his throat and Namjoon’s brain feels like static on an old TV set but instead of white noise it’s just reapeating what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.
“What thoughts?” Yoongi’s voice is small. It’s like a whisper. Or maybe it only feels like a whisper to Namjoon because everything feels out of focus now.
“I don’t. I don’t know, Hyung.” HIs mouth is so dry, how is it so dry? Where did all his saliva go? And why won’t Yoongi look away? Why are his eyes so big and his pout so deep and when did his cheeks get that shade of pink?
“What do you think about me, Joon-ah?” It feels like he’s asking more. This is more than late night bus rides and existential crises. It’s more than hypothetical wonderings and empty hopes and simple misunderstandings. It’s a chance for Namjoon to connect. To talk. To understand and be understood. Yoongi is offering him everything with seven words.
“I think about it all, Hyung. I think about your words. Your talent. I wonder if you’ve eaten that day, if you enjoyed dance practice. I think about how sometimes you really are an asshole.” Yoongi’s mouth turns up at the corner at that and Namjoon continues.
“I wonder if you’ve ever thought about leaving and being on your own again. I think about what I would do if you ever did. I think about how you push past your anxieties and how you so badly want to connect people and make people feel better.” He takes a deep breath and keeps staring into Yoongi’s eyes which haven’t looked away even though his cheeks have gotten almost red and his mouth has fallen open in disbelief.
“Mostly though, I think about if you’re happy,” Namjoon finishes. He swallows thickly and Yoongi takes a shaky breath. Namjoon can see him processing everything, can see how every word is falling into place in his brain into some sort of order that he can make sense of.
“You think all that?” Yoongi’s voice cracks in a way that Namjoon can feel his brain filing it away for another day.
“Not all at once. Sometimes it’s other stuff too, but usually. Usually it’s that, yeah.” Namjoon doesn’t know how much time passes with them just staring at each other. It feels like a while but his heart is pounding loudly through his whole body so he can’t tell how time is actually passing.
“I think about you sometimes too,” Yoongi finally responds. It’s soft. Like if he doesn’t say it loud then no one can hear it and it can’t ruin anything. Namjoon opens his mouth to ask for more but Yoongi gives it freely. “Mostly how you’re too smart to be here.”
Namjoon laughs. It bursts out of him and he throws his head into his hands he’s laughing so hard. He hears Yoongi stuttering, “Wh-why are you laughing!” but he can’t answer because he can’t stop laughing.
“Hyung,” he’s breathless and still laughing but not as hard as before. “I tell you all this nice stuff, and you’re like--” He cuts himself off laughing again and he coughs through it, it’s so ridiculous. He can’t believe how ridiculous this is. “And you’re like ‘you’re an idiot because you chose to be here’.”
He’s laughing again and Yoongi laughs breathlessly next to him, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not always trying to insult you.”
“Only sometimes?” Namjoon smirks.
Yoongi huffs out a laugh, “Only sometimes.” He’s looking at Namjoon and there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes Namjoon’s chest tighten. It looks like fondness. Like a look you’d give a friend when you spend the whole night talking and you’re so glad they’re in your life. It looks like that.
“I meant that you’re smart enough to do anything,” Yoongi tries to explain, still slightly out of breath from the laughing. “I think about how easily you could leave and do anything else and be successful instead of staying here and hoping to debut and hoping to make any sort of impact.”
Namjoon smiles at Yoongi, “I could do anything else, yeah. But I don’t want to.” He shrugs and keeps looking at Yoongi, “I want to make music. And connect to people. I want it so bad I don’t even mind if my member hates me.”
“I don’t hate you, Joon-ah,” Yoongi answers back immediately. His eyes are big and his cheeks are flushed and Namjoon is sure that he didn’t mean to say it. But he did. The words are wrapping their way around his brain, character by character and it’s all encompassing. Less like stickers and more like glue.
Their knees are still pressed together and Namjoon thinks he can feel Yoongi’s warmth bleeding into him. They’re staring at each other and it’s like they’re standing on the edge of something, like they’ve been standing on the edge for months but didn’t realize it was the edge until now. Until the light shifted just right to reveal the abyss below. And they’re standing there together, looking each other in the eye and trying to decide what to do next.
Namjoon feels Yoongi’s hand on his where it’s sitting between them. Yoongi’s hands are softer than he expected them to be. They’re long and boney and graceful and soft and sometimes they break things but usually they make art and Namjoon thinks they’re beautiful. He thinks they’re beautiful as they slowly trace their way around his own fingers. How they trace unknown patterns in his skin. How they pull his hand and link them together, warm and solid. Namjoon stares at the way his hand and Yoongi’s hands fit so well together. How nicely they lock together, like the final puzzle piece clicking in to the bigger picture.
He looks up at Yoongi again. His breath catches in his throat because Yoongi looks so open. Like by saying nothing and doing something he’s revealed everything. And Namjoon gets it. He’s reading all the worry on Yoongi’s face. The slight panic in the arch of his eyebrow. The “please do something back” in the weight of his hand.
Namjoon’s mouth feels so dry suddenly. He swallows thickly and licks his lips. He watches as Yoongi’s eyes dart down to watch the movement and it’s like the world has stopped spinning. There’s a common misconception when people say “the world stopped spinning”. People assume time slows, thick like molasses. Like it pauses entirely in a cheesy freeze frame where you can carefully take in every detail so you don’t forget a single thing.
The truth is, if the world were to ever stop spinning, humans would fly forward. The earth is constantly moving at something like 1600 kilometer per hour. If it suddenly stopped, all of humanity would be thrust painfully forward to compensate for the sudden lack of movement. Like how your body loses its balance when you first step off a moving walkway.
That’s how Namjoon feels looking at Yoongi. Off balance and flying forward towards something not entirely known.
They’re moving closer together, their noses are touching and Namjoon thinks they’re balancing right on the edge. They could still take a step back and everything would be fine. But then he sees something in Yoongi’s eyes that feels like a promise: you jump, I jump.
So he jumps.
Yoongi’s lips are soft against his. They’re warm pressed close and Namjoon wants more. He slides his free hand behind Yoongi’s neck and tilts their heads to try to deepen the kiss. Yoongi’s hand is squeezing his hand tighter while the other is grabbing at his shoulder. He can feel Yoongi’s mouth start to open against his, softly. Like it’s just a nudge, just an idea mentioned for Namjoon to make his own decision about.
Namjoon follows Yoongi’s movement and sighs when he feels Yoongi’s tongue slide against his for just a moment. His hand tightens in Yoongi’s hair and he feels and hears Yoongi’s moan at the sensation. “Fuck,” Namjoon breathes heavily, his forehead leaning against Yoongi’s.
Yoongi is just as out of breath and his cheeks are pink and his lips are swollen and Namjoon can’t get over how beautiful he looks. He moves his hand to rub his thumb across Yoongi’s cheek. His mind still feels slow, like when he has too many tabs and programs open at once on the computer. Like there’s too much too process. Yoongi nudges against Namjoon’s forehead, “If you say that was a mistake and should never happen again, I will punch you, Joon-ah.”
Namjoon huffs out a laugh, “I wasn’t gonna say that.”
“You were doing that thing with your face,” Yoongi softly moves his finger over the wrinkles between his eyebrows. “Whenever you’re thinking too hard you get this constipated look on your face.”
“You know I did passively think you would be nicer to me now that we established we liked each other,” Namjoon sighs.
Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up, “We like each other?” Namjoon feels himself stiffen because they didn’t actually say that did they? Did Namjoon read too much into the situation? Did he assume something he shouldn’t have? But then Yoongi bursts out into laughter, falling over himself. His big gummy smile is out and he’s struggling to breath he’s laughing so hard at Namjoon, “I was fucking with you, I’m sorry. Yeah, yeah we both like each other.”
Namjoon groans and crawls on top of Yoongi, “You’re such an asshole, Hyung.” He leans down and tries to kiss Yoongi again but they’re both smiling too much.
He moves away and stands up, still looking at Yoongi stretched out on the floor, cheeks flushed and smile wide. “Let’s go to bed, Hyung. We have a meeting early tomorrow morning.” He offers a hand which Yoongi takes easily.
He keeps holding on as he’s standing and groans, “Why are there so many meetings, Joon-ah?”
“I think they plan meetings just to spite you, Hyung.”
“I think you’re right.”
Namjoon snorts and shakes his head. They climb into Yoongi’s bed because his “obviously has better pillows, Joon-ah”. Yoongi lays across his chest and wraps his ankle around Namjoon’s. Namjoon runs his fingers up and down Yoongi’s arm as he feels his breathing slow down.
“Namjoon-ah?” Yoongi’s voice is softer on the brink of sleep. Namjoon hums in response. “Are you happy?” His fingers pause on Yoongi’s arm.
He looks up at the ceiling and he doesn’t recognize the patterns he’s become accustomed to. There are new shapes to outline, new paths to draw in his mind when his words feel stranded. The bed is softer and the weight on his chest is different than the one he’s used to. It’s warmer.
“Yeah, Hyung. I’m happy.” He feels Yoongi’s smile pressed against his chest as he relaxes into the bed.
He thinks of all the responsibilities he has, everything he has to work on and all the ways he has to improve still. He may not be gold yet but he thinks he’s on his way. Thinks that even though the responsibilities and pressure and expectations haven’t changed since that afternoon, it doesn’t feel as bad. Because with Yoongi curled up next to him, at least he’s not alone for it anymore.