Work Text:
Jeongguk liked lifting weights.
There was something about the heaviness that made him feel solid, unmovable, like he was more real now than when he had started, like he was a mountain.
The first time Jimin invited him on a run, he almost said no.
“Come on,” Jimin wheedled, pinching the muscle on his bicep playfully. “Cardio is good for you.”
“Lifting weights is cardio,” Jeongguk countered, and Jimin rolled his eyes.
“Just come,” Jimin repeated. “If you make it the whole time, I’ll buy you breakfast afterwards.”
Jeongguk couldn’t say no to free food, and he especially couldn’t say no to a challenge, even if his expectations were pretty low. But at the end of the run, drenched in sweat and panting and trying to hide the cramp in his side from Jimin, Jeongguk realized that if lifting weights made him feel solid, running made him feel free.
It was euphoric. Like flying.
The breakfast feast that Jimin bought him tasted like victory.
After that first run, Jeongguk couldn’t stop. He went through a phase where he ran every morning, so much that Jimin finally transitioned from laughing at his exuberance to not even answering his phone calls.
“I’ll run with you on Saturdays,” Jimin compromised, and Jeongguk made him pinky promise.
But every other morning he ran alone, always the same route. It took him through his neighborhood, which mostly consisted of low-level apartment structures that were only just starting to expand upwards, and out to a beautiful park, complete with a fishing pond and several hiking and running trails.
He ran steadily for a year, and every day it felt like flying, like with each quick toe-touch step his heart was leaping from his chest. His mind soared while he ran.
He felt free.
After a year, Jeongguk knew exactly what to expect on his morning run. He was usually out the door by six, ran for an hour, showered, and was at work downtown in his art studio by eight. Though Jeongguk enjoyed deviation in his social schedule—one that was much laxer than his work schedule—at heart he had always enjoyed routine. He rarely wavered.
The morning he met Namjoon, he was twenty minutes behind schedule, something that had not happened to him since his sophomore year in college, when his roommate turned off his alarm as a joke and he slept through the beginning of a math test, resulting in near-failure of the course.
Jeongguk, like anyone, made plenty of mistakes. But he endeavored to never make the same mistake twice, and had been an early riser ever since.
The morning he met Namjoon, he slept through his alarm for the second time in his life. In his frantic haste to get ready, Jeongguk flung himself into his running shorts, grabbed the nearest shirt he could find—on the floor near his bed—and accidentally put on mismatched socks. He didn’t brush his hair or his teeth, and forgot to put on deodorant, which, he figured later, was fitting, considering that Karma or Fate or the Lord (or Lady) Almighty had decided that today of all days was the day he was destined to meet his soulmate.
He thought he could make up some of the lost time by running a little faster, but then he’d seen Taehyung in the park walking three dogs that did not belong to him.
“Morning!” Taehyung had called, risking holding the dog leashes with one hand so that he could wave at Jeongguk with the other.
“Your new neighbor is cute,” said Taehyung, when Jeongguk stopped to give each dog a quick pat on the head (because of all the people Jeongguk knew, he was the one who could resist an adorable dog least of all).
“Who’s a good boy?” said Jeongguk, kneeling to scratch the ear of one particularly enthusiastic canine. He looked up at Taehyung. “What?”
“Your new neighbor,” Taehyung repeated patiently, especially considering that the smallest of the three dogs was whining and pawing at his ankle. “He’s cute.”
“I have a new neighbor?” asked Jeongguk, pacifying the small dog with one more quick head pat. “How do you know?”
“Jimin took his photo the other day,” Taehyung explained. “He has a blog I guess? For fashion. Apparently Jimin’s been taking his pictures for a while. So I looked him up. Kim Daily.”
Jeongguk clocked the name of the blog but quickly had to wave goodbye to Taehyung after that, as the dogs were getting rambunctious and Jeongguk was already late for work. He had almost forgotten about his new neighbor by the time he made it back to his apartment complex, and that probably would have been the end of it, if Jeongguk hadn’t been running so late.
As it was, he was in time to see a young man sitting in a small garden in front of one of the buildings, busily planting a row of leafy green plants and humming to himself.
Jeongguk impulsively slowed down from a light jog to a brisk walk, and then even further, to something resembling a very reluctant crawl forward, when the young man looked up and caught him staring.
His new neighbor did a double-take.
Jeongguk might have been a little bit flattered at that—even though he was a total disaster and wearing a dirty shirt—but he was much too busy fighting off a full-body flush at the sight of his new neighbor’s kind eyes and plush lips and tan skin. He wanted to inch even closer, to see if the tan included freckles.
His new neighbor stopped humming.
Jeongguk became aware all at once that he was sweating profusely and had been for the last hour. He thought he could also smell himself a little bit. He really should have remembered the deodorant.
His new neighbor smiled tentatively, like he didn’t want to startle and/or upset Jeongguk. He stood up and brushed his hands on his pants, leaving swathes of dark earth.
“Uh, hi,” his new neighbor said, waving a little.
“Hi,” said Jeongguk breathlessly. He had completely stopped moving at this point. He was standing utterly still outside his new neighbor’s garden, like some sort of dirty vagabond.
He should introduce himself, he thought.
“I’m a mess,” was what he said instead, not even bothering to gesture to his stained clothes or his mismatched socks or the fact that he was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, like something that had just emerged from the primordial ooze.
“I’m Namjoon,” said his neighbor, and then laughed like they’d made a good joke.
God. He had dimples.
“I’m Jeongguk,” Jeongguk said, and smiled along to show that he was in on the joke too, even if it was at his expense. “And I’m late for work.”
Curse his sudden and inexplicable urge to reveal only the absolute and inconvenient truth.
Namjoon laughed again. “Don’t let me keep you,” he said, stepping back a little. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?” His low voice lilted up at the end, making it a question, and Jeongguk nearly swooned right on the spot.
“Yes,” said Jeongguk firmly, already revising his entire schedule and plotting how he could be approximately twenty minutes late from now on.
It wasn’t until he was showered and dressed and on his way out the door again that he remembered he owned his art studio and was his own boss (at least, if you didn’t count his manager, Seokjin, and Jeongguk rarely did, even though Seokjin pretty much ruled his schedule and his life) and he could be late if he wanted to be without consequences (Seokjin yelling at him and then angrily thrusting an iced coffee in his direction—“I picked this up thirty minutes ago, god, where have you been? You’re never late.”—also didn’t count).
“I’m going to be in at 8:30 from now on,” Jeongguk told Seokjin, taking the coffee gratefully and closing his eyes in delight at the first sip.
Seokjin blinked at him. “Sure. Okay. What’s going on?”
And because Jeongguk was half-convinced that Seokjin could read his mind anyway, he figured the best thing to do would be to tell him about his new neighbor Namjoon, and how the sight of him in the garden had completely transfixed him.
He tried not to worry about the grin that stretched itself across Seokjin’s face, but he also wasn’t totally surprised that after several hours of work, including a few calls to the museums around Seoul that were housing his newest collection, Seokjin joined him for lunch and promptly pulled up Namjoon’s blog on his phone.
“He is cute,” said Seokjin, scrolling through Kim Daily, making little appreciative noises at each new photo.
“I saw him first,” snapped Jeongguk instantly, and got a single eyebrow raise in return, causing his face to heat uncomfortably.
“No need to worry, lover boy,” Seokjin murmured, still scrolling through photos. “I’m going to help you.”
“Help me?” A prickle of sweat blossomed along Jeongguk’s hairline.
Jeongguk had known Seokjin for pretty much his entire life—Seokjin liked to joke that he’d raised Jeongguk with his own two hands, thank you very much—and he had come to believe that his hyung was probably a trickster god reincarnated; his help wasn’t ever something you could be totally sure you needed, because it sometimes made things so much worse.
Seokjin smiled, and to Jeongguk it looked nearly diabolical.
“You haven’t been interested in anyone since you graduated from high school. Six years ago. So yes, I am graciously offering my services.”
“Graciously,” Jeongguk repeated.
“You still have those spandex shorts?” asked Seokjin, ignoring him.
Jeongguk knew the ones he meant. “I outgrew those several years ago, hyung. They’re too tight.”
“Uh-huh,” said Seokjin, with a glimmer in his eyes. “Wear them tomorrow on your run.”
“Yeah, no,” said Jeongguk, shaking his head. “I’m not doing that.”
Seokjin looked up. Jeongguk gulped.
“Wear. Them.”
Jeongguk wore the shorts.
They were tight and left very little to the imagination but weren’t completely obscene, especially paired with a looser shirt. He felt ridiculous and self-conscious the entire time—a gaggle of middle-aged women followed him for a while as he ran through the park, giggling behind their hands and not even trying to be subtle—but Namjoon was outside again, and he dropped the garden spade he was holding when Jeongguk jogged into view at the end of his run.
So maybe it was worth it.
“Did it work?” asked Seokjin, once Jeongguk made it to the studio.
Jeongguk lifted his chin and sniffed, refusing to answer, and Seokjin cackled.
The next morning, he wore a normal outfit again, but the morning after that, at Seokjin’s insistence, he switched it up and wore a pair of joggers that made his ass look unbelievable and no shirt.
Namjoon walked into the side of his apartment on Jeongguk’s shirtless run day.
Jeongguk felt a little bit bad about that, but he also couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.
He stopped each morning to talk to Namjoon for just a few minutes before he made excuses about being late for work. Eventually Namjoon asked about his job, and his eyes completely lit up when Jeongguk admitted he was an artist. Namjoon, apparently, loved art, and regularly visited museums. Jeongguk waved off Namjoon’s questions about his current exhibits, trying not to blush.
Namjoon himself was always home in the mornings because he worked the night shift as a radio DJ. He also made his own music, but similar to Jeongguk, waved off any attempts to share it. During the day he worked on his fashion blog, Kim Daily, which he had started as a counter-culture effort and continued because he found it both enjoyable and relaxing.
Each time they talked, even though it was only for a few minutes, Jeongguk felt himself falling deeper and deeper into an intense sort of curiosity about his neighbor, wanting to know everything about his life, everything that Namjoon felt willing to share with him. He pressed for little details—did Namjoon have pets, did his family live nearby, what was his favorite food? Movie? Book?—and was rewarded with genuine answers each time.
He could also tell, as time went on, that his attraction to Namjoon wasn’t one-sided. It was easy to see that Namjoon was physically attracted to him, of course—he had walked into the side of a building, after all—but it became apparent that Jeongguk was stimulating his intellect and curiosity as well, and Namjoon seemed the sort who needed to be attracted to someone’s mind just as much as their body.
Jeongguk did his best to indulge both in the short amount of time they had with each other each morning, and he could tell by Namjoon’s bright smiles and hearty calls of “Jeongguk! Good morning! Come talk to me!” that it was working.
“So when are you going to make a move?” Seokjin asked, getting tired of Jeongguk’s perpetual swooning.
Jeongguk glowered. “Give it time, hyung. These things need to happen organically.”
Seokjin scoffed.
As it turned out, neither of them needed have worried. Namjoon took the matter into his own hands soon enough.
Namjoon’s neighbor was going to be a problem.
Correction. Namjoon’s neighbor already was a problem. A problem that started the morning he jogged into view wearing the smallest, tightest spandex shorts Namjoon had ever seen in his life.
His brain nearly leaked out his ears.
Jeongguk’s body was the stuff of dreams, all tight, lean lines and hard muscles. His face looked young except at certain angles in certain slants of light, when his jawline smacked Namjoon upside the head or his Adam’s Apple bobbed tantalizingly when he swallowed or laughed.
And his legs. Namjoon couldn’t help but admire them, especially in those shorts. They were lightly dusted in hair and powerful, and Namjoon’s face warmed at the sight of them, enough that he dropped his spade and stared unabashedly.
Jeongguk’s legs were all Namjoon thought about for a few days, at least until he ran into view one morning wearing a pair of joggers and no shirt, at which point Namjoon’s one-track mind abruptly switched tracks to chiseled abs glistening with sweat and heaving with Jeongguk’s even, rapid breaths.
A bruise blossomed on Namjoon’s forehead after that morning from where he walked directly into the side of his apartment.
Jeongguk was obviously going to be the death of him.
And it only got worse when Jeongguk proved himself to be quick-witted and sharply intelligent. He was thoughtful, kind, always had a smile ready for Namjoon, and was an incredible artist—Namjoon had looked him up on Naver and promptly gotten sucked into an intense rabbit hole of information about the Seoul art scene’s youngest prodigy. He was so talented that Namjoon spent several long minutes just gaping at his computer screen, wondering how someone so cool lived so near him, and actually talked to him.
He still couldn’t get over it, really. That not only did Jeongguk talk to him, but seemed to enjoy doing it. He always had a compliment for Namjoon, either about the progress of his garden or about Namjoon himself, though the few times Jeongguk had commented on his appearance with a simple, “You look really good today, hyung,” Namjoon almost hadn’t recovered. Jeongguk asked about Namjoon’s music and his hobbies and his interests and seemed to genuinely care about the answers, and each time he jogged around the corner in the morning Namjoon wondered how someone like him could even exist.
And it was right around then, with the realization that Jeongguk was hot and good, that Namjoon decided he wanted him, wanted him desperately, and he could also play the game that Jeongguk had initiated.
He called Jimin.
“I need to seduce my neighbor,” he said, and didn’t even need to wait for Jimin’s gleeful shouts on the other end of the line to know that his friend would help him in any way possible.
“What’s your best feature?” asked Jimin later, when he was over at Namjoon’s helping him plan an outfit for the next morning.
Jimin stepped back to look him over critically.
It had been somewhat of a shock to realize that Jimin already knew Jeongguk and had since they were in college together, and that Jimin was the reason Jeongguk even ran in the mornings at all. But as that meant Jimin had insider access to exactly what Jeongguk would like, Namjoon wasn’t going to complain.
Namjoon glanced down at himself, as if that would help him discern his best feature. “Uh…”
“Wrong,” said Jimin immediately, not even giving Namjoon a chance to elaborate or continue. “Your legs, for sure. You own shorts, right?”
Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Yes, Jimin, I own shorts. You photographed me in a pair of shorts last week.”
“Well how short are your shortest pair?” Jimin pressed insistently. “Because you’ve got god-like thighs and you need to use them to seduce Jeongguk.” Jimin paused, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I just said that. This is so weird.”
Namjoon pouted, and Jimin rushed to reassure him. “Not you! Just the fact that I happen to know both you and Jeongguk and that you happened to move into his apartment complex and that he happens to keep wearing scandalous running outfits to drive you crazy and now I’m actively trying to get you laid. It’s a little weird.”
Namjoon laughed. “A little. But you’re still going to help me, right?”
“Of course I’m going to help you,” Jimin said, leaving off the fond dumbass, though Namjoon could hear it in his tone. “Go put the shorts on.”
Jimin ended up hacking off a good few centimeters of his shorts, making them short enough that Namjoon would never be able to wear them in public again. He lamented this for only a moment, because if Jimin was correct, these shorts were definitely going to get him laid.
The next morning, he put that theory to the test.
He stepped out into the garden bright and early, knowing that Jeongguk was already off for his run, and spent several long minutes wondering what he should be doing to best show off his thighs, and then laughing at himself for even worrying about it. Instead, he simply worked as he always had, humming lowly to himself and yanking weeds out of the dirt as he tended to the several rows of newly planted green sprouts that were just beginning to appear.
It was sheer luck that he happened to be bent over at the waist, spreading fertilizer, when Jeongguk’s pounding feet rounded the corner. Namjoon righted himself hurriedly, feeling a little embarrassed that his ass was basically on display, suddenly wondering if this was a good idea at all, and generally wishing that he could go back in time and not wear these horrifically short shorts.
Of course, when he turned around, it was just in time to see Jeongguk yelp, stumble over his own feet, and tumble to the ground, his eyes wide with shock.
“Jeongguk!” Namjoon cried as he fell, rushing toward him.
But Jeongguk expertly used his momentum to roll straight to his feet once more, dusting himself off as if nothing at all had happened, with only his bright red blush to give him away.
Namjoon stopped in front of him, speechless.
Jeongguk couldn’t even look at him, though his eyes kept darting to and from his bare legs.
“God,” Jeongguk finally muttered, rubbing a hand across his face. “You… I… thighs.”
He barely breathed the last part, so quiet Namjoon almost didn’t hear him at all.
His face flamed just as red as Jeongguk’s.
“I’m so sorry!” he said, the words tumbling out of him. “I shouldn’t have worn the shorts! God! Stupid Jimin, telling me I should do this. I’ll never listen to him again. I’m so so sorry.”
Namjoon could see Jeongguk’s mind spinning behind his eyes, which were finally up and looking at Namjoon’s face.
“Jimin told you to wear the shorts,” Jeongguk said blankly, once again glancing at Namjoon’s legs. He didn’t seem surprised that Namjoon knew Jimin, so he must’ve already known.
“I’m sorry!” Namjoon repeated, practically wailing now. “I shouldn’t have! I was trying to seduce you!”
Jeongguk looked up with a gasp, and Namjoon clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified.
“You,” Jeongguk began, his eyes wide and glassy. “You… seduce…?”
“Well I’m sorry but you started it,” said Namjoon with a pout, shuffling from foot to foot. “Stupid spandex shorts. And then no shirt.” He grinned slyly. “I’m not sure if you know, Jeongguk, but you have abs.”
Jeongguk swallowed thickly. He stared at Namjoon.
“Are you going to say anything?” asked Namjoon petulantly.
Jeongguk shook himself. “Hyung, you do not need to seduce me. I am already thoroughly seduced. I want to take you to dinner right now.”
Namjoon laughed, the tightness in his chest easing. “Jeongguk, it’s 7:30 in the morning.”
Jeongguk shrugged, as if the time didn’t matter at all. “Breakfast. Let’s go now. Want to go now? We should go now.”
Namjoon laughed again, his heart light and his soul soaring. “Yeah, alright,” he murmured. “Let’s get breakfast.”
Jeongguk’s eyes somehow widened even further. “Really? Okay, great! Let me get changed. I can’t wait. You have the best legs I’ve ever seen.”
Namjoon ducked his head, smiling. “You think?”
Jeongguk nodded emphatically. “Definitely.”
Namjoon wasn’t sure how they were going to make it through breakfast without blushing and stumbling over their words.
But he was looking forward to it all the same.
Seokjin and Jimin, of course, tried to take credit for getting Jeongguk and Namjoon together.
Jeongguk and Namjoon let them think it, because it was easier than admitting that it wasn’t the machinations of their friends, or the tiny shorts, or even abs and thighs that got them together, but the subtle—and not so subtle—leanings of their hearts toward one another one morning when Jeongguk was late for work and Namjoon was a new neighbor, and that the one morning bled into innumerable others, until they were indistinguishable, and as bright as the sun on the horizon, as light as air, and as free as flying.
fin