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Namjoon, at the delicate age of 18, likes to pride himself on his outstanding intellectual grasp and his ability to quickly work out solutions to complex problems but it's 2 hours into his date and he still hasn't figured out how to smoothly ask Kim Seokjin to hold his hand yet.
It's summer, sweltering, and they're in an amusement park, sitting next to each other on a bench with a friendly distance put between them. Seokjin is sipping on a cold drink with his right hand, while the hand of Namjoon's desire is placed loosely on the rather cute Mickey Mouse themed tote bag his lap.
Namjoon is sweating. His palms are clammy.
He's staring at one of those silly LED message boards, reading all of the messages slowly scrolling though: I LOVE YOU, PARK JIEUN — HYUNMI AND KWANGSIK FOREVER — HOSEOK ♡ YOONGI — HOLD HIS FUCKING HAND, YOU COWARD.
Blinking, Namjoon reads the last message again. A drop of sweat slides down his temple.
HOLD ME TIGHT, MINJI, it actually says.
Now he's even starting to imagine things, great. What's the cause? Is it the immense heat or his conscience?
Feeling a little sour, Namjoon turns away from the board to glance at Seokjin.
Seokjin catches his eyes and smiles at Namjoon for no fathomable reason, his pink cheeks puffing out, the straw of his drink caught between his teeth; looking so adorably beautiful.
And, maybe, if that small action hadn't fried all synapses except for one in Namjoon's brain, maybe, if the whole weight of this moment hadn't lasted on Namjoon's last remaining two brain cells, maybe then he would have come up with something better to say than, "W-We should compare hands."
Seokjin tilts his head curiously, making strands of hair fan cutely across his forehead. "Compare hands?"
Namjoon averts his eyes, his two brain cells working at full blast to save the situation from escalating into something horrible. "Uh, I mean—to—to compare the size," he stutters, holding up his hand. "Of our hands, that is."
'We should compare hands to compare the size of our hands,' the little annoyed voice in Namjoon's head reiterates, and he grimaces at how utterly lame he sounds. Should he just play it off as a joke? Perhaps he should, if only to lessen the blow of rejection, because there's no way Seokjin is seriously going to—
Something warm and soft brushes gently against the inside of Namjoon's hand. Startled, he turns to look in front of him; at his and Seokjin's hands which are hovering opposite of each other, barely touching.
Every nerve ending in Namjoon's hand feels like it's live, emitting invisible sparks every time it comes in contact with Seokjin's skin. His hand is actually tingling.
Seokjin smiles again. "Ok, let's do this."
Namjoon's not sure where the sudden burst of courage comes from, but he closes the space between their hands, pressing them firmly together.
Their eyes meet for only a second before they shy away.
"So," Seokjin says airily, "who's the winner?" He moves closer to study their hands thoroughly from every side. "I think mine's a bit bigger."
A little disappointed, Namjoon observes the millimeters of difference. "I guess it is."
His expression must have given him away, because Seokjin giggles, his eyes turning into small crescent moons. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll have outgrown me by the time we're married. Look at how tall you already are! Soon I'll need a stepping stool to look into your eyes!"
The laughter and conversations of all the many people around them fade away until there's only Seokjin's voice in Namjoon's head.
Married? Marriage? They're barely holding hands and Seokjin's already talking about marriage?
Something in Namjoon's brain short circuits at that and he slumps forward, curling his fingers inward reflexively in embarrassment. It makes him interlace them with Seokjin's accidentally.
"I really, really like you, hyung," Namjoon mumbles into the space between them.
The spots where their skin touches are hot and damp and even though Namjoon is feeling a little mortified about all of this, he's also dead set on not pulling away until Seokjin gives him a reason to.
"Yeah, you've told me before," Seokjin says, humming. "Three times."
Seokjin patiently holds his hand and sips his drink until Namjoon has calmed down enough to face him again. They break out in smiles when they take in each other's rosy cheeks, feeling silly but happy.
So this is how they continue their travel through the amusement park: Holding hands, pulling away every so often to wipe the sweat off on their pants and playing with each other's fingers, their thumbs rubbing circles into skin, while they're cooling down in the shade.
Ten years later they'll be lying in bed together, pressing their palms gently against each other—making their rings align—to compare the size of their hands like the first time, and Seokjin will whisper into the night, "See? I told you you'd outgrow me."