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1.
Namjoon had seen Jimin low before. Everyone had. Over the ten years they’d been a team, Namjoon had witnessed Jimin’s struggles with anxiety, disappointment, self-loathing, and shame. And he’d watched him battle an eating disorder—an ongoing war against an internal liar Jimin couldn’t shake—with mixed feelings of anger, terror, and horrible awe. But he’d never seen Jimin quite like this.
At this moment, Jimin was stretched out on his side in Namjoon’s bed wearing soft, loose sweatpants, and an oversized sweatshirt. His head was propped on a pillow, and his arms were bent so that they were tucked up beneath it. He wasn’t asleep. He was awake, just lying there quietly. Saying nothing. Doing even less. Just staring at Namjoon’s bookshelf.
Namjoon had no reason to ask him to leave. He’d never invited him in, really, and definitely hadn’t asked him to stay, but that wasn’t entirely unusual. The younger members had always just come and gone in his room as they saw fit. Not usually so quietly, though. Normally, they banged in, disturbing him, asking questions, touching his stuff, and making a chaotic scene, no matter if it was just one of them or all three of them at once.
But apparently Jimin had crept into Namjoon’s room, shut the door without disturbing Namjoon at his work, and helped himself to Namjoon’s coziest blanket. This quiet intrusion was discovered only when Namjoon tugged his headphones off, turned away from his computer where he was working diligently on a few tracks, and found Jimin resting there.
“Hey, you okay?” he finally asked after a few long moments where he’d tried to figure out if he should even disturb Jimin at all. As if he were the intruder in his own room. “What’s up?”
Jimin dragged his eyes away from the books and sat up. “Sorry, hyung. Did I disturb you?”
“No. I didn’t even know you were here.”
Jimin’s smile crinkled his eyes and he laughed, but it didn’t take his whole body the way it did when he was truly happy. “I tried to be quiet.”
“Another success then.”
Jimin’s expression grew more serious. “Hyung, do you want me to go?”
“No. It’s fine.” Namjoon tilted his head. “But why are you here? Are you okay?”
Jimin nodded. “Just needed some quiet. The others are…” He frowned and seemed to listen for a moment. “I guess they’re done now. They were being loud, and I was over it.”
Namjoon frowned. That was unlike Jimin. Normally, Jimin needed distractions: music, tv, movement, dance, rowdy jokes, friends, action. “Just not in the mood?”
Jimin shrugged. “I’ll get out of your way.” He started to move off Namjoon’s bed, but suddenly Namjoon didn’t want him to go.
“Stay. If you want.” He motioned toward the computer. “I’m going to use the bathroom, grab some water, and then I have more work to do. But if you want to hang out there, it’s fine.”
Jimin grinned and flopped backward dramatically, but then resumed his prior position, laying on his side, his small bare feet sticking out from under the blanket, and his hands beneath the pillow. His eyes closed, and he looked peaceful, like he might fall asleep.
When Namjoon returned with fresh water, Jimin’s breaths were slow and easy. Namjoon settled into his chair, but instead of working, he watched Jimin sleep instead. Tenderness rising inside, he rose to fix the blanket over Jimin’s shoulders, and then slipped his fingers through Jimin’s hair.
Always so cute, he thought, and then went back to his desk. The distraction of duty called.
When it happened again the next night, and then the night after that, Namjoon asked, “Do you want to talk?”
Jimin smiled sadly from where he rested on Namjoon’s bed, this time on his back with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, and his gaze directed up to the glow-in-the-dark map of the stars Namjoon had pinned to the ceiling. The stars didn’t glow much though, since the low light of the lamps were enough to keep them from shining.
“I think we’ve all talked enough, hyung.”
“Oh?” Namjoon knew that he could talk too much when he really got going on something, and he and Jimin could get off on some wild tangents sometimes, long, winding discussions that were, secretly, some of his favorite moments in life. But if Jimin didn’t want to talk to him, then why was he in his room again? “I could just…listen?”
Jimin snorted softly. “If I want to talk to you, hyung, then I also want to hear your advice. Right now, I just want to be quiet.”
“Hoseok will let you be quiet if you just tell him.”
“I don’t want to have to tell him.” Jimin smirked. “Like I don’t want to tell you.”
“Ah…” Namjoon had no idea what Jimin meant, but if he didn’t want to talk…well, Namjoon wasn’t going to let him think he wasn’t wanted. “I guess you can stay. I have more work to do. But I’ll need my bed back this time.”
He’d let Jimin sleep the night in his bed the last two nights, and he’d taken a blanket to the sofa. His neck was still protesting that decision.
“I won’t fall asleep,” Jimin said, then he sat up and nodded at the computer. “Can I hear?”
Namjoon scratched at his ear. “I’m not sure it’s ready yet.”
“All right. But I would like to hear it.”
Namjoon shrugged, put his headphones aside, and stood up to stretch. “Be right back,” he said, stepping out of the room.
Jimin just flexed his foot and then pulled his knee back into a deep, figure four stretch. His ass was visible beneath the sweats as they pulled tight. So cute, he thought.
Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook were in the living room watching a movie, with Jungkook’s head in Hoseok’s lap and his feet in Taehyung’s lap getting a massage at both ends. It looked cozy, but there was plenty of room for Jimin next to Taehyung, and the movie looked like the one Yoongi had recently recommended, and which Jimin had seemed interested in at the time.
Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, Namjoon watched them for a few minutes, pondering. “Jimin wasn’t into the movie?” he asked, pouring water into his glass.
“Huh?” Hoseok asked, looking up in confusion. “Jimin? He said you needed him tonight?”
“Me?”
“Yes, to help you out with something,” Taehyung said.
“He said so last night, too,” Jungkook called, and then he pushed his feet at Taehyung again, and moaned softly. “So good, hyung. Thank you.”
Namjoon chewed on the inside of his cheek. Jimin had lied, had he? Not much of a surprise but concerning. “He ate well?”
“He said ate earlier,” Jungkook said.
Hoseok met Namjoon’s gaze, and they sent each other the same message. When was ‘earlier’? They were together all day, keeping safe between their apartment and Big Hit’s offices, waiting out this virus with the rest of the world.
Nodding, he started some ramyeon, enough for them both.
When he returned to his bedroom, he carried a tray with two bowls of ramyeon and two glasses of water.
“Hey,” he said, pulling open the door to find Jimin in the same position he’d left him in, except stretching with the opposite leg. “Let’s eat.”
Jimin let out a happy little moan and sat up, his face a little flushed from the stretches, just as his stomach grumbled. “How did you know, hyung?”
Namjoon shrugged, and Jimin leapt up from the bed to take the tray. “Let me…”
“Put it on the bed. We’ll have it there.”
Jimin did as asked, steadying the tray as Namjoon sat down on the mattress opposite him, causing it to sink and lurch. “Thank you, hyung.”
They ate in slurpy silence for a strangely long time, but finally Namjoon asked, “Remember how I shouted and yelled and screamed in anger over it all?”
Jimin looked up from his bowl, his eyes wide, and surprise waking up his features. He nodded, slurping more noodles in. He chewed and swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You were angry. All that work for nothing.”
“Nothing sadder than a book unread,” Namjoon said. “I was angry, yeah. But it was more than that.”
Jimin’s expression tightened, and he sat up straighter, before letting his posture collapse so that he was hunkered over. “I’m not angry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I am.” He looked up with sad eyes. “I thought we had it all figured out, hyung. We’d decided again to commit to our dream, and we’d worked so hard—”
“So hard. We’d put in so much effort.”
“I’m not angry,” Jimin repeated again. “I’m just…empty.”
“You don’t have to feel—”
“Don’t talk yet. I’m not finished.”
Namjoon chuckled anxiously, but mimed zipping his lips.
“Eat,” Jimin said, nodding at the still steaming ramyeon.
Namjoon did, and used the shoveling of food in his mouth to stave of the temptation to start talking to try to make things better.
“I’m empty and sad. I feel like someone carved out my insides and I’m just a husk.”
Namjoon looked up, tempted to suggest that eating more would help, but Jimin took a bite of his own food just then, and he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to give Jimin a hard time about eating. So, he just shoved more ramyeon into his mouth and shocked them both by staying quiet.
“I guess you want to know why I’ve come to your room lately?”
Namjoon shrugged. “I don’t mind. I just don’t get it. You’ve never spent a lot of time in here before.” Not doing nothing anyway. Harassing him, sure. But staring into space, or flipping through one of his books on art? Never.
“When I’m in here, with you, hyung, when you’re working, and making your little noises, and clicking away—” Jimin smiled, and it almost reached his eyes. “I don’t feel so empty.”
Namjoon made a face. “What? Why?”
“Your room…” Jimin trailed off, his face going red. Namjoon hadn’t spiced the ramyeon that much, so it must be for another reason. “It feels like you. Smells like you.”
Namjoon tilted his head.
“I like that. You make me feel safe. When I’m in here, and you’re not paying attention to me, it’s like the sea, hyung, like these waves of you filling me up.” He motioned with his hands, like waves crashing against his chest. “I feel safe and warm.”
Namjoon’s eyes darted around the room, and his brain whirred, trying to understand. “All right,” he said, finally. “That’s…” he flushed, laughing in embarrassment. “That’s too much, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Jimin asked.
Namjoon swallowed hard, and looked down, his chopstick shaking strangely in his grasp. He laid them aside, too. “No. It’s fine. Like I’ve said, I don’t mind you here. You’re not bothering me.”
Jimin smiled. “Thank you, hyung. Now let’s finish eating so you can get back to work.”
“And what will you do?”
“Rest here, listen.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to share the music yet.”
“I like to listen to you,” Jimin said.
“Me?”
“The creak-creak of your chair, and the little nervous coughing sounds you make when you’re not sure it’s going well.” Jimin mimicked them with a smirk. “But don’t worry. It’s going well, hyung. I can tell.”
“How?”
“By the way you’re so into it.”
“Hm,” Namjoon murmured. “Fine. You can, uh, listen to me? I guess? But now I’ll be thinking about it and worrying about every sound I make.”
Jimin laughed, and this time he did tip forward with glee, putting a hand on Namjoon’s forearm and squeezing. “Stop, hyung. It’s fine.”
They finished their ramyeon, and Jimin took the tray to the kitchen, returning with a full glass of water for Namjoon. Then he sat back down on the bed in the lotus position, closed his eyes, and said, “Okay, hyung, I’m ready to listen.”
Namjoon snorted, put his headphones on, and got back to work. But after a few minutes, he tugged the headphone jack free and let the music spill out of the speakers instead. He didn’t turn around to see Jimin’s response, but he heard it, a soft hummed melody that added a nice layer to the bridge. He opened the app on his phone and recorded it over his shoulder, without ever turning around.
Then the humming faded away, and he heard Jimin shifting around on the bed. When he stood up to stretch and stop his work for the night, he found Jimin asleep beneath the cozy blanket again.
The couch wasn’t any kinder on his third night.
“Like the ocean?” Hoseok said, somehow frowning and laughing at the same time. “He said that?” His chopsticks poking at the red and black beans, before grabbing up egg too.
Namjoon scratched at his ear, suddenly worried that he’d betrayed Jimin’s trust with that reveal. He was always spoiling things he shouldn’t, so terrible at keeping things secret. “I don’t know. I didn’t memorize his speech. He just said he liked being in there with me while I worked.”
He took a big bite of his gaeran tost-u to cover up his own confusion.
Hoseok glanced toward Jin who was stumbling around in the kitchen looking for milk, and then toward Yoongi who was sitting at the table in a half-catatonic stupor, sipping an iced Americano Hoseok had pressed into his hand as soon as he’d emerged from his bedroom.
Taehyung and Jungkook weren’t up yet, and neither, for that matter, was Jimin, who was still dreaming in Namjoon’s bed. His very soft, very comfortable bed.
“And what did you say back?” Hoseok asked.
“I said he could stay.”
Hoseok looked perplexed. “Do you think he’s angry with me? Have I done something wrong?”
“You’ve been roommates a long time. If you’d done something wrong, he’d have said so,” Yoongi muttered, taking another sip of his Americano. “He just wants to be with Namjoon-ah.”
Hoseok’s expression flittered through any number of emotions, but he finally settled on confused acceptance.
“If you want your bed back,” Jin started, sitting down at the table with what appeared to be a quarter of a cup of milk—all he could find—and a handful of nuts. Not exactly a great breakfast, but everyone was always on some weird diet these days. This was probably another one. “Just roll him out onto the floor.”
“Or you could share with him,” Yoongi said, turning his head toward Namjoon, his dark eyes intense, bordering on teasing, but not quite. He probably hadn’t had enough coffee yet.
“I’m not Taehyung,” Namjoon muttered. “Besides, I snore. I’d keep him awake.”
“I’m just saying you could try it,” Yoongi said. “You should try it.”
Hoseok looked between them with raised brows.
“Why?” Namjoon asked.
“I think you’d like it more than you expect.”
Namjoon put his breakfast sandwich down. “What do you mean by that?”
Yoongi rolled his eyes and sucked at his coffee, saying no more. But Jin was happy to fill in the blanks. “He means that Jimin wants you to comfort him. So, comfort him.”
“Jimin wants Namjoon-hyung’s warmth,” Taehyung said, showing up with his hair sticking up everywhere, and his low voice still gritty with sleep. “You make him warm, hyung.” He sat down at the table, too, crossing his arms over his chest, and waiting for food to magically appear for him.
Hoseok rose to make that happen. Namjoon wondered at the fact that he and Taehyung were so spoiled. Someone was always willing to cook for them.
Jin looked like he was holding back a comment, but possibly only because Yoongi was giving him a glare. Namjoon sighed, picked up his sandwich and said, “I’m going to finish my breakfast in my room. You’re all weird.”
“Where are you going, hyung?” Jungkook asked, as Namjoon passed him in the doorway. “Hyung?”
“He’s going to eat in his room,” Yoongi said.
“With Jimin-ah,” Jin added.
Which reminded Namjoon, actually. He spun on his heels, and returned to the kitchen, snatching the eggs and rice that Hoseok had prepared for Taehyung saying only, “For Jiminie,” before walking out with the plate.
No one argued with him.
~
That night, when Namjoon stopped his work for the evening, he stood by his bed and looked down at Jimin’s sleeping form. There was room. He could slip in behind him, and if he were careful, maybe he wouldn’t even wake Jimin up.
The thing was, he didn’t like to sleep with a shirt on. Would that be too intimate? Jimin was in his usual sweats and over-sized shirt combination, and he looked warm and comfortable enough. Maybe if Namjoon got underneath the covers, he wouldn’t have to worry about making skin-to-skin contact.
Because that would be awkward. And…something else. Something he really didn’t want to think about too much because, well, in the past he’d thought about it too much, and it wasn’t ever going to happen. So…
He slipped his pants and sweatshirt off, climbing in behind Jimin on the bed wearing only his underwear. He tugged the corner of the blankets off the bed and managed to get beneath it. He shifted and grunted quietly, but he was certain there was no way he hadn’t woken Jimin up.
And yet Jimin made no sound, and the steadiness of his breathing was undisturbed.
Namjoon closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.
He could feel Jimin’s heat even with the hand width’s distance between them.
Eventually, sleep stole him, and he dreamed easily, waking at some point in the night to the sensation of an arm draping over him from behind, and a nose nuzzling against the nape of his neck, breathing him in.
He started to rouse, but then Jimin whispered, “Shh, hyung, sleep.”
Namjoon didn’t drop deeply again, but he held very still and let Jimin hold him and let him nuzzle his hair and neck. His body reacted as any man’s would to a person he was attracted to doing such things, and yet he didn’t turn around, or ask Jimin to stop.
Instead, he held very still, and asked himself, Do I like it?
Not just the nuzzling, not just the tingle of Jimin’s breath on his neck, but being close to Jimin like that. Did he like it?
As the night wore into morning, he’d tamed his own breaths to match Jimin’s chest swelling up and down against his back and wondered at the peace that filled him. Like an ocean.
“Hyung?” Jimin asked with lifted brows and wide eyes when Namjoon sought him out.
After two nights of Jimin not coming to sit idly in Namjoon’s room while he worked, he’d decided to find out why. Was Jimin feeling better? Less grief-stricken? If so, then good. But maybe it was more than that? Maybe it had to do with the way Jimin had curled against Namjoon’s back and the way that Namjoon had let him.
Maybe it was because now Jimin knew that Namjoon didn’t mind being held by him at all.
Whatever the case, Namjoon needed to clear the decks and discover the reason for himself.
“Can we talk?” Namjoon asked, nodding back down the hall toward his bedroom.
Jimin swallowed hard but disentangled himself from the pile of members—Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jin this time—and followed Namjoon.
“Is everything okay, hyung?” Jimin asked, as soon as Namjoon had shut the door behind them.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you, actually. You haven’t been back.”
Jimin cocked his head. “Back?”
“To my room.”
Jimin’s eyes went wide and he licked his lips nervously. “I thought you’d be happy to have me out of your space.”
“Look, Jimin-ah…” Namjoon trailed off. Now that he had Jimin here, he realized he wasn’t sure what to say. “Do you feel better? Did you get what you needed?”
“What I needed?” Jimin looked pale, and he crossed his arms over his chest, not meeting Namjoon’s eye.
“From me.”
Jimin’s eyes grew miserable, and Namjoon’s stomach flipped. He put a hand onto Jimin’s shoulder. “Why are you upset? What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything,” Jimin said. “I did.”
“What?”
“I…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I took advantage of the situation.”
Namjoon shook his head. “Just tell me.”
“I held you while you slept,” Jimin whispered, like he was confessing something awful. “I’m sorry, hyung. Please forgive me.”
“Why would I…what are you…? Jimin-ah, don’t... I liked it.”
Jimin’s eyes moved around the room, like he was trying to figure out if he was still in the same dimension as before. Then his gaze rose to meet Namjoon’s warily. “You did?”
“Why else would I let you do it? I’m twice your size—”
“Hey, now.” Jimin drew himself up taller.
“I’m just saying if I hadn’t wanted you to—” he cut himself off.
Jimin’s eyebrows jerked up.
“I mean…”
“You mean what, hyung?” Jimin stepped closer, taking hold of Namjoon’s hands. His fingers were cold. Namjoon felt like he’d never stop feeling their grip against his own. And he loved that.
“I wanted you to hold me and I liked it.” He stepped nearer, so that he was looking down at Jimin, and forcing Jimin to tilt his head up to hold his gaze. “Jimin-ah, if you want to come to my room tonight…?”
Jimin’s lips twitched. “Yes?”
“Then you can hold me again. If you want.”
Jimin’s laugh was almost as bright as it had been before the virus had shut their lives down, crushing their plans, and forcing them on a new path. “All right, hyung. After dinner, the others are going to watch a movie. I said I’d join them, but I’ll come to your room instead.”
“All right,” Namjoon said breathlessly.
“I hope you make it worth my while,” Jimin said, laughter still teasing his mouth and eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“Just that I want you to work at your desk, and click away at your computer, and then…” Jimin stretched up on his tip-toes, and he whispered in Namjoon’s ear. “Then I want you to get in bed, wearing just your underwear, and—” Jimin bit into his lower lip, and Namjoon’s breath hitched. “And we’ll see what happens.”
“Jiminie?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I…?” He couldn’t make his mouth form the words.
“Can you…?” Jimin pushed it, his eyes darkening.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered so softly that he wasn’t sure he’d managed to say it at all.
Jimin didn’t answer, pushing up higher on his toes, and gripping Namjoon around the back of the neck to pull him into a soft, sweet kiss. Namjoon whimpered, tugging Jimin close, feeling the way the sweatshirt collapsed around him. Too small, too fragile despite all those long muscles.
The kiss didn’t last long, turning into a hug, and murmurs of reassurance from Jimin that Namjoon didn’t know why he even needed until he realized he was almost hyperventilating.
“We can’t do that,” he said. “We can’t.”
“We did. We can.”
“Jiminie…”
“Namjoon-ah, shh, we lost so much already this year. Let’s just have this, okay? Don’t talk us out of it.”
Namjoon couldn’t argue with that, not when Jimin was in his arms, and he felt so right there. Comforting. Warm.
Joy crested and broke over him. Like an unexplored ocean of possibility washing through the room, buoying them both.
That night the bed was their raft and they slept peacefully adrift in each other’s arms.