Work Text:
“Jinnie? Baby?” Namjoon scratches his fingernails a little harder against Seokjin’s scalp, hoping to pull his attention away from his thoughts.
“Mm, yeah, sorry, what’s up?” Seokjin’s attention snaps back to Namjoon, staring with wide eyes as he intertwines the fingers of their free hands together.
“You zoned out on me there, babe. Everything alright?” Namjoon and Seokjin are cuddled up on the couch with wine and a movie on, a place one can usually find them on a Friday night when they haven’t seen each other much in a week. Namjoon sits on the couch, Seokjin’s head in his lap, fingers carding gently through his hair as he talks about a fact he read on Socrates earlier that week.
The week had been hectic for the both of them; Namjoon getting called into work at ridiculous hours on top of what he already works because ‘the bridge, it just doesn’t sound right, Namjoon-ah. Something doesn’t sound right and it’s driving me crazy, please come help me Joon-ah,’ (and Seokjin knows Namjoon has an innate inability to say no to Yoongi, so Seokjin packs them both a lunchbox, sends Namjoon off with a sweet kiss and bottles of water with sticky notes to serve as reminders for the both of them to take care of themselves.) Seokjin having to stay later than normal at his restaurant to prepare for a surprise health inspector visit, as well as taking care of his equipment that is very much near its breaking point, as well as talking with interior designers to get the place looking a little nicer since the restaurant is becoming a city-wide favorite, and Kim Seokjin does not like to disappoint.
“Yeah, of course, Joon-ah.” Seokjin lets out a small giggle, shifting to his side a little so as not to look Namjoon straight in the eye.
“Am I boring you? Because if I am you know you can always tell me to shu-” Seokjin laughs, hesitantly brings his hand up to cup Namjoon’s face and squeezes, forcing his lips to purse.
“Joon-ah, you could never bore me. My mind just started to wander, is all. No big deal.” He runs his thumb over Namjoon’s bottom lip and smiles. Namjoon frowns.
“‘S been doing that a lot lately,” Namjoon speaks softly, going back to carding his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair. Namjoon has been seeing this all week; sometimes when he talks, sometimes when Seokjin is talking to others. His mind starts to wander, he starts to disconnect from reality. There’s always a slight glaze to his eyes, being from the disassociation or lack of sleep or both, Namjoon doesn’t know.
“Not a lot,” Seokjin adds, drawing absent-minded circles on Namjoon’s hand. “Just been a little sleepy. Been a long week, y’know?” Seokjin looks up to gauge his response but Namjoon just nods, his mind now elsewhere.
Seokjin lets Namjoon’s mind stray, lets him put together whatever philosophical conversation he wants to have next in his head. Seokjin gently pulls Namjoon’s hand away from his scalp so he can lean over to the coffee table to take a sip of his wine before returning to his original position.
A long beat of silence passes over them.
“Seokjin?”
The said man opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s been caught off guard – Namjoon never calls him ‘Seokjin’.
“Namjoon?” Seokjin rolls onto his back, pulls Namjoon’s hand into his own once again. He shoots Namjoon a bright smile – one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“How – how are you?” Namjoon tilts his head as curiosity takes over his features.
“I’m alright, Joonie. How are you?” Seokjin smiles. Again, it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Namjoon doesn’t have to look at Seokjin to know this. Seokjin knows this, too.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“Seokjin, seriously, just –” Namjoon stands up, runs a frustrated hand through his hair, starts to pull at tufts of his now disheveled hair. “You’re not alright. I know you’re not alright but you won’t – you won’t talk. To me, or anyone and I just – You know you can talk to me, right? Or any one of us? You’re not bothering anyone by – by venting or t-talking about something you know?” Namjoon huffs, fists clenched in his hair as he’s unable to form the right sentences to get his point across.
“Joonbug, baby,” Seokjin stands up with him, his hands gently coaxing Namjoon’s out of their death grip on his own hair. “I’m okay. And I really truly appreciate you worrying about me and I know I can talk to you or anyone if I need to. I know, Joon. I’m okay, Joon, everything’s okay.” Seokjin ends his sentiment with a smile. Namjoon sees right through it.
Namjoon isn’t the angry type. He’s not a person that can be riled up easily, he doesn’t hold grudges against people, he doesn’t react to negativity thrown his way. It’s both my favorite and least favorite thing about you, Seokjin always tells him. You’re patient. You’re understanding. You prefer to talk through a situation, find an alternative solution. You don’t like when people fight. You have a pacifistic nature to you, Joon-ah.
But when someone isn’t doing well – someone like his own boyfriend – he starts to worry. Then the worry bubbles into a panic, the panic rises to anxiety, visible anxiety – his hands start to shake, his heart starts to beat unnaturally fast, he can’t fucking breathe – and then he can’t stand it anymore. He gets mad. He feels angry. He’s a volcano ready to blow. It’s his least favorite thing about himself – when the anger comes, once it bubbles to the surface, becomes visible, he can’t stop it; he can’t stop the venom he spits at people.
“Bullshit.” He spits out, pulling his hands from Seokjin’s grip a little too rough for either of their liking.
“Namjoon –”
“No! Seokjin you can’t keep doing this.” Namjoon’s on fire now, his eyes are burning and he feels tears forming, threatening to fall. “You can’t keep – you can’t keep pretending. You can’t keep pretending things are okay, that you’re not constantly thinking or worrying like I know you are! You bottle things up and you keep them in and – you – you keep everything that’s bothering you to yourself and then when you come home you look like you want to cry, need to cry, but instead of talking to anyone you just – just cry in the bathroom alone.” Namjoon stops, sucks in as much air as his lungs will allow. “You – you can’t –”
The dam breaks, and Namjoon is tired. He lets the tears he fought so hard to keep back flow freely.
Seokjin is frozen in front of his anxious boyfriend, can’t do anything but stare as he watches him wipe his tears with the back of his hands angrily, sit down on the couch softly. He watches Namjoon sob into his hands. He watches as his crying boyfriend tries to will away the second round of tears, watches as he struggles to breathe with the anxiety and anger clouding his system. Nothing seems to work, so Seokjin watches him sob.
There’s a moment where Namjoon catches his breath, lifts his head up the smallest bit.
“Hyung,” His voice cracks, another tear falls. “Please let me in.”
Seokjin is still standing, pain tugging at his heart, emptiness overtaking him. He did this. He made his boyfriend, his lovely, beautiful boyfriend, cry. Tears fall without his permission, he doesn’t try to stop them while he thinks; When did it get this bad? When did I get so bad? When did all of this start? How do I fix this? Can I fix this?
When did Namjoon feel like Seokjin didn’t let him in, didn’t tell him anything? But, more importantly, when did Namjoon’s worry start? Seokjin scolds himself for not seeing it sooner. He knows every tell of Namjoons – knows when he’s anxious by the way he fiddles with the hem of anything he can get his hands on, knows when he’s excited by the sparkle in his eye and the nearly unnoticeable skip in his step, knows when he has a good session in the studio with Yoongi or Hoseok or Jungkook and his leg starts bouncing with an unfamiliar beat.
Seokjin knows Namjoon. Why didn’t he notice?
“Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin says with a slight whimper and a sniffle. He kneels down to Namjoon’s height. “Joon, I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on this sooner, baby. I should’ve –” He wipes the tears from his cheeks. “I should’ve noticed, I should’ve seen the signs. I’m so sorry, Joon-ah, I’m so sorry I didn’t check up on you.” He places his hands on Namjoon’s to bring them away from his face. Namjoon stares in disbelief.
“This isn’t about me!” He tries to shout, but his voice betrays him and cracks. “This is about you! This – this is about –” And then Namjoon can’t breathe. And he feels it, feels the tell-tale signs of an anxiety attack coming but this is still not about him. This is about Seokjin.
“Okay, okay,” Seokjin takes Namjoon’s hands into his, gently lures Namjoon onto the ground, onto his lap. He lays his head on Seokjin’s chest and tries to breathe with his heartbeat. “It’s just little things, Joonie.” Seokjin takes a breath. Namjoon visibly relaxes.
“Been thinkin’ a lot about Hoseokie and how he’s so nervous about his show next month. He creates the best choreography I’ve ever seen and – he works so hard and practices so fucking much and still thinks he isn’t good enough for the show. He thinks he’s the worst dancer when he goes to those shows! And – and I don’t think he’s been eating properly for months now, have you seen how small he’s getting?” Seokjin rambles. He feels better finally letting himself speak freely.
“What else, Jin-ah?” Namjoon puts his fingers on Seokjin’s wrist, right on his pulse point, squeezes slightly.
“Gukkie,” Seokjin hesitates. “He’s – he’s, I don’t know. He’s focusing so much on his coursework and I’m so fucking proud of him but he just – he works a little too hard, you know? Like, he doesn’t have parents to impress and we’re his only family and he feels like he needs to get perfect grades to impress us but, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even – god, he doesn’t even need to impress us or make us happy with anything, like, we’ll always love and accept him no matter what. And I don’t know if he knows that.” Seokjin feels his shoulders slouch a little bit, his breathing evening out. Huh, maybe he has had a lot on his mind. He feels the weight in his lap get heavier, signaling to him that Namjoon is calming down with him.
He takes a deep breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Namjoon does this a few times with him, rubs a hand against Seokjin’s chest. “These don’t sound like little things,” Namjoon says with a huff and a pout. Seokjin huffs out a light laugh.
Namjoon pulls him back. “Keep going, baby. I know there’s more in there.”
“Tae and Jiminie...seem like they’re doing fine? But – What if either of them relapse? When they got into their relationship they made it clear that they would help each other out and keep each other healthy but that also means if one falls, so does the other. So if Jiminie relapses, Tae might follow and vice versa.” Namjoon hums.
“I get that. Worries me a lot, too. But Minnie and Tae know what to do if either of them does relapse. They have us both on speed dial and all of their grounding techniques on a poster on their living room wall, remember?” That thought eases Seokjin some more, his shoulders slumping down even further. He feels like a small weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
But there’s still a big boulder sitting on his back, pressing down on the back of his neck and right between his shoulder blades. It pushes down down down, forces his body to slouch, puts a weight on his shoulders that’s been there for years.
“Yoon,” Seokjin barely squeaks out. “What about Yoongi?”
“What about Yoongi?” Namjoon counters, wrapping an arm around his waist, drawing mindless patterns on Seokjin’s chest with a finger. He places a kiss on his chest, right on his heart.
“What if he tries it again?” Seokjin speaks softly, almost as if he doesn’t want to let the universe hear what he said.
“Seokjin,” Namjoon sits fully upright in his pained boyfriend’s lap, their eyes meeting. “It won’t. It’s not going to, I’m not going to let it happen again, We’re not going to let it happen again. He’s taking his meds, sleeping semi-regular hours, and eating little bits of things we leave for him in the fridge. He’s going to therapy twice a week. He’s made and is making so much progress, Seokjin. So much progress.” Namjoon’s hands find Seokjin’s cheeks.
“Plus, he lives with us now, so we have a better eye on him. Like Tae and Jimin, he has us on speed dial. He knows what to do when he’s having bad thoughts or a bad day or a bad week. He only takes the pills I give him, and you know I hide the bottles, he knows I hide the bottles. Yoongi’s better, baby. He’s doing so much better.” Namjoon wipes tears away from Seokjin’s eyes as he speaks.
Seokjin stops for a moment – he can feel it. The familiar swelling of emotion in his chest, a stab through his heart. He doesn’t suppress it like he usually does, doesn’t push it back down like he usually does because I’m the hyung, I have to be strong for everyone else. He just lets it happen, lets the tears flow, the sobs wrack his body. It’s a full-blown ugly cry, as Yoongi would call it, and for once, Seokjin doesn’t mind it one bit.
Seokjin cries and cries and cries. He cries because he’s overwhelmingly proud of Hoseok. He’s proud of Hoseok for constantly pushing himself out of his comfort zone when it comes to his dancing, even his music. He tries things new, mixes things up. He strives to do better no matter how many times Seokjin hugs him and buys him food and tells him Hoseokie, you’re the best dancer I’ve ever seen, you’re amazing, hyung is so proud of you.
He cries because of Jeongguk. When Seokjin met Jeongguk, he had nothing; no family no friends, he was still struggling through high school. When he met Jeongguk, all he wanted to do was protect him, tell him everything’s gonna be okay, Jeonggukkie. Years later, and Jeongguk is still struggling, but this time through coursework in university. He wants to make Seokjin happy, he wants to make them all happy, they’re his family. He takes home perfect grades, has an almost perfect GPA, pushes himself beyond the limits of his anxiety and depression, yet he’s always striving to do more, to be better. Seokjin sits with him at his restaurant at lunchtime almost daily, listens to him talk about his day and his grades and funny things his professors did. Hyung, I was thinking, he had said as he stuffed his face with another large bite of a cheeseburger. I want to do photography or art as a minor. The face he had given him, searching searching searching for approval. Jeonggukie, that’s incredible. You’re amazing at both of those anyways. Do whatever you want, Guk. Hyung will always be proud of you, no matter what.
He cries because of Jimin, he cries because of Tae. They have finally found a way to try the relationship thing. Something they both talked about, together and on their own, but never did. They’re finally trying. Seokjin remembers hanging the poster with the grounding techniques on their wall. He remembers hugging them so tightly, remembers crying saying, hyung is so proud of you both. So so proud. Progress is amazing, but taking a few steps back is also progress, relapse is okay. I don’t care what happens, hyung will always be here for you and so so proud.
He cries because of Yoongi. He cries for the past and the shit Yoongi had gone through in high school. He remembers the day he asked Yoongi what he thought about therapy. He remembers holding Yoongi the first time he found out just how far pain can go. He cries for the progress Yoongi has made since then, since they got out of that awful place they had to call ‘home’. He cries because having to look at your childhood best friend so far broken, so far gone he’s sliced himself so deep he might not come back from it is heartbreaking.
And, like most of the times he cries, he cries because of Namjoon. How Namjoon puts up with him? He’ll never know. Why Namjoon hasn’t kicked him out of the apartment or broken up with him? He doesn’t know. What he does know, what he’s crying for, is having someone who sees him. Someone who sees how sad he can get and recognizes when he needs a break or a shoulder to cry on. He feels that Namjoon sees him and understands and loves him, insecurities and brokenness and all.
“Namjoon-ah,” The call of his name is broken between cries. Namjoon moves Seokjin’s head from his chest to look at him properly, kiss away his tears. “You’ve been taking care of everyone, Joon-ah. Haven’t been eating enough ‘n – ‘n work you’ve been missin’ work ‘n – ‘n you haven’t been sleeping at night. Been having nightmares again?”
Namjoon nods softly, cups Seokjin’s cheek with his hand.
“Havin’ trouble eating again?” Seokjin asks through sniffles. Namjoon nods. “Smell makin’ you nauseous?” Namjoon nods again, Seokjin’s eyes start to water again.
“Don’t wanna go to work?” Tears start falling again, but Seokjin’s focus is solely on Namjoon. Namjoon shakes his head ‘no’.
“Don’t feel comfy driving?” Namjoon shakes his head, another ‘no’.
“Don’t feel safe in the studio?” No.
“Nightmares?” Seokjin’s voice shakes. “The same one as before?”
Namjoon nods, “Yeah, but there are new ones, too. Feels like my brain keeps making up new things to scare me ‘n keep me awake.”
“Baby,” Seokjin breaks. “Baby, I’m here, you know I’m here. ‘M not gonna leave you, never gonna leave you.” Namjoon puts his head on Seokjin’s chest.
“Jinnie, I know. Breathe, baby, breathe for me. Please?” Seokjin takes deep breaths, the same as before; in through his nose, out through his mouth. Namjoon does the same.
Seokjin hears Namjoon take a deep breath, then his head is coming up from his chest. He finds Seokjin’s hands, intertwines their fingers. “Let’s go see Seokie tomorrow after his dance class. We’ll bring food and you can talk to him.”
Seokjin visibly lights up a little bit. “We’ll drag Jeongguk out of his dorm after, maybe take him ‘n Seokie somewhere. Maybe have ‘em sleepover?”
“We can call Tae and Jiminie right now if you want to. Just to check in with them?” Namjoon doesn’t see a reaction from his boyfriend. “Or, we can just barge into their apartment. They’ll be awake.” He smiles at Seokjin, Seokjin smiles back, a tear rolling down his cheek.
“We should let Yoon sleep, though. He didn’t sleep much last night so he fell asleep earlier than usual. I still gotta give him his meds, though.” Namjoon thinks out loud. “I’ll keep an eye on Yoongi when he’s here, I’ll text you updates, let you know if he says or does something that’s a little off?” Seokjin nods aggressively.
“Please,” Seokjin begs.
“I’ll go to the studio with him, keep an eye on him there, too.”
“No, no, no, no,” Seokjin cries. “Don’t want you going if you’re not comfy.”
“Okay,” Namjoon wraps his arms around Seokjin’s waist, fingers rubbing circles in his hips. “How ‘bout I go back to see that therapist, would that make you feel better? I’ll get on my meds again, talk to a therapist. ‘N I’ll try and get Yoon to come with, hm? Just to get him out of the apartment.” Seokjin opens his mouth, Namjoon speaks first. “Don’t worry about the cost, I’ll pick up extra shifts at one of my other jobs, okay? The studio can wait. I feel a little safer at the library right now anyways.”
Stray tears fall from Seokjin’s eyes. Namjoon wipes them away, pulls Seokjin into his chest and places a kiss on the crown of his head.
“You don’t have to be the hyung around me. You know that, right?” Namjoon rocks them slowly side to side. Seokjin’s breathing evens out. “I know its instinct but, it’s me, baby. You don’t have to put on a mask or put up an act with me.”
“If you’re happy, you’re happy. And I want to laugh and smile with you. If you’re not, you’re not. And I’ll sit with you for days and days, I’ll do anything to help you feel better.”
Seokjin takes a deep breath. He feels like he can breathe again. Like the water he’s been constantly surrounded by and drowning in has subsided, and he can fucking breathe.
“‘M trying my best, but I’ll try a little harder for you.” Seokjin pulls away from Namjoon.
“Thank you,” he presses their foreheads together, presses a kiss to Namjoon’s lips. “I love you.”
(Five minutes later, Seokjin and Namjoon are still sitting on the floor, small sniffles and stray tears surrounding them still. They hear the faint sound of a door opening behind them, and Namjoon registers the footsteps. Yoongi pokes his head out from the hallway, sees their position.
He walks over carefully and sits on Seokjin’s side, leaning his head on his shoulder. He looks over at Namjoon, throws him a weak smile.
“Hyungie,” he says, gripping one of Seokjin’s hands lightly. “I’m not gonna do it again. ‘S not happening again, would never want to put you through something like that again.”
Seokjin turns Yoongi’s hand over in his palm, looks at the rough scars of that day. The physical reminder that won’t go away. Yoongi sees him looking, closes his fist.
Before Seokjin can ask a question, Yoongi speaks up. “Love you hyung.”)