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Yoongi bows over the deed, taking it with steady hands and dry eyes that feel wholly unreal. Distant, almost.
“He wanted you to have it,” the attorney says solemnly. “There’s a letter too, if you want me to read it-“
“No,” says Yoongi. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.”
His grandfather’s picture smiles benignly down at all of them and the last thing Yoongi wants in this moment is to hear his words coming from a stranger’s mouth. The deed, his old house, will be enough of a living memory. A place Yoongi can retreat. There is no thought of the future. Not right now when the pain is still fresh. The deed is cradled in his hands like it could shatter if he grips it too hard.
Yoongi keeps his eyes on the floor and focuses on breathing. Eventually the oxygen will work its way into the frozen core of his grief.
“This is the place?” Seokjin’s stare communicates all the doubts his voice misses, nose wrinkled. “Are you sure?”
“Looks haunted,” says Taehyung approvingly.
Yoongi nudges the last of his boxes further into the corner. “The family moved him into their own homes a few years ago. I don’t think anyone’s been here since. It isn’t haunted. And yes, hyung, I’m sure.”
Jin does that thing with his mouth where he wants Yoongi to know that he wants to say something but won’t for Yoongi’s sake. For his own sake, Yoongi pretends not to see it. It’ll be nice, he tells himself. To be away from the bustle of Seoul and somewhere a bit quieter instead. Without having to worry about paying rent every month, Yoongi is sure that he’ll even be able to get more composing and producing done.
Overhead, the lightbulb flickers.
Alright, sure, the house is in… a bit of disrepair. His grandfather’s health had been failing long before his parents had convinced him to live with them instead, and there are things around the house that show that neglect a bit better than others. But even that is somewhat exciting for Yoongi. He feels an itch in his hands. He can take apart everything and put it back together just the way he likes it.
It is an old house. An old house and beautiful with its age, the air heavy with history as Yoongi moves through the rooms. Yoongi loves its ringing silence, how golden the dust seems as it streams through errant beams of light, and he presses his palm to a wooden doorframe, feeling the humming potential beneath before he nods to himself, satisfied.
He’ll like it here.
It might take some work, but he’ll like it here.
“If you’re sure-“ Seokjin begins doubtfully, but he’s interrupted by the doorbell. The three of them exchange confused glances. “Yoongi, are you expecting someone?”
Yoongi shakes his head.
“Maybe someone just came by because they saw you moving in?” Taehyung suggests.
Yoongi shakes his head again, frown deepening.
The serenity is broken by another car coming to a stop in his driveway beside Jin’s car. Two men hop out, and if Yoongi wasn’t so puzzled by them being here, he would take more time to appreciate their looks. As it is, the shorter of the two’s hair is bright bubblegum pink and he’s dressed like he’s ready to be appreciated, black jeans clinging to shapely legs. The taller has a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and a mouth set into a friendly, heart shaped smile that Yoongi keeps sneaking glances at. His dark hair flops becomingly across his forehead and he bounds forward like he’s been sitting still too long already.
“Hi,” the taller stranger says, dividing the greeting between Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung expertly. “Hi, sorry about the wait! Have you been here long?”
“No, we just arrived.” Thank god Jin is taking the lead, letting Yoongi press against his back for support. “You are…?”
“Oh, I’m-“
There’s a crunch of gravel as another car grinds to a halt. Yoongi misses whatever the stranger is saying in favor of squinting at another pair of newcomers. A tall man, pale blond hair swept back from his forehead, emerges. For an instant, he’s smiling, carving out a pair of dimples deep enough Yoongi’s pretty sure he could fit the pad of his thumb in them, before he sees the other newcomers and the expression goes from friendly to hostile in an instant.
“What are you doing here?” And oh-, sharp jawline also has dimples, smaller ones that pop out now that he’s frowning. This is getting confusing. Yoongi is confused, and it’s only Jin’s broad back and the way Taehyung grabs his hand that’s keeping him steady.
Tall Dimples, because that’s just how Yoongi is going to keep them straight for now, scowls right back at Frowning Dimples. “I could ask you the same thing. You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you.” Frowning Dimples cuts a sharp glance at the other newcomer, who is watching this all with wide eyes, a cardboard box in his arms. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re moving in here too?”
Moving…
In?
Excuse them?
“Moving in?” Yoongi pushes forward, anger biting at the back of his teeth. “Neither of you have bothered to introduce yourselves, and you’re talking about moving into my house? I think the fuck not. Start over. This is my house. I live here now. And you two chucklefucks are here because…?” And Yoongi trails off expectantly, looking between Tall Dimples and Frowning Dimples. His question seems to startled some manners back into Tall Dimples at least, who takes a deep breath before bowing.
“My company received notice that we were set to inherit this house following the passing of a Mr. Min, provided we had a representative stay in the house for nine months. I was picked to be the representative, though-“ and here Tall Dimples cuts a sharp look at Frowning Dimples, whose dimples only get deeper in his displeasure, eyes hard and flat, “-I see there’s been some confusion.”
“Not on our end,” Frowning Dimples cuts in. His frown eases up when he looks at Yoongi, turning into something adjacent to an apologetic grimace. “We got a similar notice at my company too.”
Tall Dimples sneers. It’s a terrible expression on his face, and really, the two of them should get back to smiling. Yoongi liked that a lot better. “Your company can barely keep their paperwork straight, or are you just mad that I got the last bid out from under you again last time, Hoseok?”
“I’d be mad, Namjoon, but we both know you screwed yourself over just to win. Was your company happy with your margin of loss? You should just turn tail and go back home already. We both know you won’t last nine months here without making this place a pigsty and ruining the property value.”
Yoongi holds up a hand. The two quiet in front of him, and he points at the tall one. “You, Namjoon, right? Why do you and your company want my house?”
Namjoon’s throat works through a swallow. “Well. Uh. This property is in a critical location for our development plans, so…”
Squinting, Yoongi swivels to point at the other. “Hoseok?”
“We are… also developing in the area. This house is lovely, but.” Hoseok shrugs, his head cocking to the side. “We would be trying to sell it, to put it bluntly.”
“You both would be. You both want my house to sell it, is that it?”
Trading looks with each other, both Namjoon and Hoseok nod.
Yoongi levels the two of them with what he hopes is a blisteringly unimpressed look. “If you think I’m letting two strangers into my grandfather’s house just so they can try to sell it, you’re both worse than crazy: you’re stupid.” Yoongi crosses his arms and scowls up at the both of them. “None of this was in the statement the lawyer made.”
Hoseok has the grace to at least wince, but Namjoon’s eyes narrow, his chin jutting out. “The attorney said that you were given the letter that explained the circumstances, Min Yoongi-ssi.”
“The circum-“ The letter. The letter Yoongi never opened, figuring it contained only a parting message from his grandfather and nothing more, that he would return to when his heart was a little less freshly wounded. Yoongi’s mouth presses into a flat line. “Right. That letter. Give me a minute. Don’t move a muscle.”
Regrettably, the letter says exactly what Hoseok and Namjoon have said. Whoever lives in the house for nine months gets it in the end, a rule that Yoongi thinks is frankly bullshit, but is apparently legally airtight.
“And what if all three of us live here, hm? What if we all manage to stay? It’s not like there’s something wrong with the house.” Yoongi has fire licking up his insides but refuses to raise his voice, instead letting Namjoon get loud and irate. Hoseok watches them in lieu of saying anything.
“I think, if we all stay here for the requisite time, then the deed automatically falls to kin over us, Namjoon,” he says finally. It is amazing, Yoongi thinks, how he can change from the chipper man who he had just met to this steely-eyed force to be reckoned with. “At that point, either we’ll have convinced Yoongi-ssi to give the house to one of us, or we’ll just have to accept defeat gracefully. Does that sound about right?”
Yoongi snorts. “Sounds terrible. But I’m not letting either of you get my house for free, so if you won’t give up, then that’s what we’re doing.”
Clapping his hands, Seokjin stands. “Then let’s move your new roommates in! Thank god, I was going to get worried if you were to be left to your own devices. Who else would water you or feed you after midnight?”
“Pretty sure conventional wisdom says not to feed gremlins after midnight, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Hoseok barks out a short, sweet laugh as they traipse back outside.
Yoongi is left to the ringing silence of his house, his house that he wanted to set roots down in, that he wanted to breathe gentle life back into, and he lets out a long, long sigh, placing his hand on the wooden doorframe again.
“Hey.”
Quirking an eyebrow, Yoongi levels Namjoon with his best unimpressed look.
Namjoon’s mouth twitches in a resigned smile. “I just wanted to apologize for being so abrupt earlier.”
“Eh, you couldn’t have known I didn’t read the letter,” says Yoongi. “Don’t worry about it.”
There’s excited yelling from outside, where Taehyung and Hoseok’s pretty pink assistant seem to be cheerfully harassing Namjoon’s muscled groupie, and Yoongi hears shouts of “Jiminie!” and “Jeonggukie!” and “Hobi-hyung!” and exactly nothing of substance. He sees them start to unload box after box and just feels tired down to his bones in a way he had wanted to escape.
“Yoongi-ssi?”
“Hyung.” Yoongi rubs his forehead. “If you’re going to be living with me, the least you can do is call me hyung. Any of the downstairs bedrooms are yours to use. Don’t destroy my house and don’t sabotage each other. I won’t deal with it. Let Hoseok know that too.” A pause. “I think your … friend? Needs some saving. Hoseok's friend looks like he's about ready to eat him.”
Namjoon looks outside and swears under his breath. “Alright, hyung. Jeongguk!”
It takes hours for Hoseok and Namjoon to move in, and the house is lively and Yoongi hides in his quiet bedroom where he can pretend that none of this is happening because he wasn’t ready for any of it and it’s unfair for it to be dropped on him as a condition of keeping his damn house. Seokjin invades before they leave, stands in front of Yoongi and searches his face with those patient, dark eyes of his. When he reaches out, Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to take his hand.
“If you need anything,” says Seokjin, too serious, and doesn’t stop even when Yoongi squeezes his hand hard enough to hurt, “call me. I’ll come in an instant, Yoongi, you know I will.”
“I know, Jin-hyung,” replies Yoongi, soft and grateful. “I know.”
The first month passes without Yoongi really realizing. He’s busy unpacking, setting things where he wants them, getting used to sleeping in a new house with different sounds from his cramped Seoul apartment, trying hard not to think about eight more months of tiptoeing around these realtors-cum-roommates.
(He’s not very successful about not thinking about it.)
For the most part, it’s nice, Yoongi realizes. After Seokjin moved in with Taehyung, abandoning Yoongi in favor of being intimidatingly attractive with his boyfriend in a stark betrayal of their vow to be eternal roommates, Yoongi had figured that was it. For the rest of his life, he would have large, achingly empty spaces waiting for him when he came home. He could have found another roommate, but something about the idea made his skin crawl. Seokjin had been the perfect roommate. Caring in an understated kind of way where they both went behind each other’s backs to do thoughtful gestures. Quiet. A good fishing partner. Organized but not too organized, and handy in the kitchen.
Almost none of that describes Hoseok and Namjoon.
“Namjoon, I swear to fuck, if you leave one of your glasses out one more time,” Hoseok snaps, already carting the offending cup to the kitchen, scowling at the water ring it left behind.
“I was coming back to that! Can you keep your hands off my stuff for two seconds and unclench a little, maybe?”
Yoongi sits up from where he’s pulling up floorboards with a sigh. Of course Namjoon trails behind Hoseok, already gunning for a fight. When they weren’t ignoring each other, they were fighting, and frankly, Yoongi is tired of it. “Can either of you keep your tempers to yourselves?”
“I-“ Hoseok bites back the rest of what he was going to say, clearly wrestling his temper back under control. His angry little dimples pop out over the flat line of his mouth, and Yoongi can’t help but sigh, wanting to touch and smooth them out. “Sorry, hyung. I just. I like things to be orderly. Some people,” and he cuts a sharp look at Namjoon, “need to be better about cleaning up their messes.”
Easily, Yoongi says, “Then we’ll all be more aware that we need to keep common areas clean as consideration, won’t we, Namjoon?”
A muscle ticks in Namjoon’s jaw. “Yes, hyung.”
“And in return, Hoseok, you should ask if someone is done with something before you touch it. Don’t just assume that we’re finished, alright?”
Abashed, Hoseok nods.
“Good. Now move. You’re in the way.”
They both move silently to the side. Yoongi’s skin prickles as they watch him pull up the rest of the boards, setting them to the side.
Hoseok cocks his head to the side. “Are you serious about fixing this place up?”
“I know you’re planning to demolish it and sell it, but this was my grandfather’s house.” Yoongi settles back on his heels and wipes his forehead as he surveys his work. Not too bad. The flooring will go down nicely on top of this. He’ll need to call in for an electrician if he wants to rewire anything, but having hardwood instead of old carpet already makes him more comfortable. Hoseok is still watching him. “Ah. I like this house,” he says lamely. “It’s a mess at the moment, but it can only improve from here.”
“Some would say that this is more effort than its worth.”
Yoongi frowns. The sentiment sits wrong with him, a thorn in the softness of his heart. “Those are the sorts of people who want to tear everything down and start all over again. There’s a bravery in that. There’s a bravery in seeing very plainly where things just need a little love and a little effort and deciding that you’re willing to put in that time. I’m working on it because I want to, Hoseok-ah. Fixing the house makes me feel good.”
Something softens in the line of Hoseok’s face. A pressure Yoongi hadn’t realized was on him fades and he breathes easier. “That makes sense, hyung. Do you want any help?”
“Do you really want to work on a house you’re planning on tearing down?” Yoongi asks dryly and Hoseok laughs.
“Well, we don’t know who’s going to get it just yet! We still have time and just sitting here is going to be boring. What if you win? I don’t want you to just remember me as a freeloader.”
“No, I’ll just remember you as one of the guys who thought he’d get my house.”
When Yoongi looks up, ignoring Hoseok’s playfully offended whining, Namjoon is watching them with an unreadable look on his face. Yoongi cocks an eyebrow at him, questioning, and Namjoon shakes his head to whatever he thinks Yoongi’s unspoken question was.
“I’d help, but I’d break too many things to really be useful,” he says a bit ruefully, rubbing at his hands like he wants to do something, like someone has told him that he can’t and he’s built that into a truth within himself, and Yoongi doesn’t like that.
He reaches out to pat Namjoon’s knee. “Don’t worry about it, Joon-ah. Hyung will show you what to do if you want to help. Even breaking things can be good. I’ll need to get a few of the cabinets in the kitchen replaced, so I’ll need help getting those down.”
And Namjoon’s face breaks out in a wide smile. Yoongi hears a sharp inhale beside him, catches the way Hoseok’s eyes widen, how he has to fight a reflexive smile in response to Namjoon’s, and feels a spark of interest ignite, potential curling in Yoongi’s stomach as Namjoon kneels next to him and Hoseok to learn what Yoongi wants them to do.
A dangerous thing to learn.
As spring fully settles into itself in fits and bursts, Namjoon and Hoseok fall into the habit of helping Yoongi out. Yoongi compares them to baby birds in a call to Seokjin, always following him around, begging to learn what he’s doing and why. Hoseok is frightfully detail-oriented, and Namjoon has an eye for design choices that make Yoongi stop and think. He finds himself unintentionally creating spaces around them, designing a windowsill that Hoseok can sit in to soak up the sun, the proper setup for shelves for all of Namjoon’s knick-knacks and collectables.
Seokjin asks why he’s bothering complaining about it when he’s clearly enjoying himself so much. Yoongi hangs up on him without a second thought.
(He hears Jin’s laughter, squeaking and raucous, anyways.)
Yoongi is busy scowling down at his unoffending phone when a shriek pierces the air.
“Seok-ah?” he calls, hurrying as fast as he can to the living room where Hoseok has his feet pulled up on his chair and his eyes fixed on-
Ah.
Yoongi’s mouth twitches.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Hoseok says. His voice is watery, wobbling around the edges. “I hate bugs so much and it crawled on my foot, hyung, please can you please make it go?”
“A spider, really? Seok-ah, it isn’t even that big.”
“Hyung,” Hoseok whines, terrified gaze darting between Yoongi and the spider. “Please, please, please, just get rid of it, please.”
“You’re worse than Jin-hyung, I swear,” Yoongi sighs. He turns around, ignoring Hoseok’s pathetic whimper. Fetching a plastic cup from the kitchen takes no time at all, but Hoseok is still nearly in tears by the time he gets back, lips trembling, and Yoongi clicks his tongue before squatting down. He neatly traps the spider in the cup. “There, evil vanquished. Bring me a piece of paper so I can get it outside.”
Hoseok’s tearful face isn’t cute, Yoongi tells himself when Hoseok scrambles to do as he says. It isn’t. His eyes being red and desperately grateful isn’t cute at all, especially not considering how pretty his smile always is.
Wait no.
Not that either.
Hoseok isn’t cute or pretty, whether he’s crying or smiling.
Yoongi deposits the spider safely outside
“My hero,” says Hoseok, wrapping Yoongi in a hug. Yoongi doesn’t protest, breathing in the fresh citrus smell that seems to follow Hoseok around, clutching the back of Hoseok’s baggy shirt and-
Meeting Namjoon’s wide, intent stare over Hoseok’s shoulder. Yoongi freezes, feeling oddly caught, like he’s in trouble. He shouldn’t be. He isn’t. He hasn’t done anything wrong, except hug Hoseok, and he didn’t even start that. But still, something squirms in Yoongi’s gut.
“Well, now that the spider is taken care of, it’s shower time. Shoo, shoo.”
Namjoon disappears around the corner before Hoseok turns around, and Yoongi lets himself be chivvied out. He hesitates for just a moment, then follows Namjoon to the kitchen, where Namjoon is slumped over the countertop.
“Alright, Joon-ah. What’s the long face for?” Yoongi raps his knuckles against the countertop, careful not to make too much noise. “You seem down.”
“He’s comfortable here.” Namjoon sighs. “I never thought I’d get to see him laugh like that again.”
“You two knew each other, huh?”
Namjoon lets out a long breath, resting his head on his arms, and Yoongi folds his fingers into his sleeve hems instead of reaching out and touching. “We used to be best friends,” Namjoon admits finally. “We were close. Closer than close. I- I was an idiot about him, hyung. I know you haven’t seen it much here, but he has this smile that could make anyone do anything for him. We were close all through college but after service, we just- I dunno. I guess we just fell apart. Now he’s working for another company, even though this is the one we both swore we were applying for. It’s complicated. I think- I think he hates me.”
No longer able to resist, Yoongi trails his fingers through Namjoon’s short-shorn hair, right where it’s soft and a little prickly at the base of his neck. “You’re a difficult man to hate, Kim Namjoon. Are you sure it isn’t something else?” His mouth quirks in a grin. “You said you were close. Did you guys have a bad breakup before you served?”
Namjoon freezes.
Yoongi’s eyebrows rocket up. “I was joking. Did you really?”
“Does it count as a breakup when you’ve never technically said you were together?” Namjoon asks weakly, and he looks and sounds so pitiful that Yoongi only clicks his tongue, digs his thumb in a comforting circular motion at the nape of Namjoon’s neck.
“Did you think you were together and he didn’t?”
“No, we just. Like most things between us, it was easy. We fell together. Got a little wine-drunk at a party and went for a walk at 3 in the morning and he was just watching me so intently, hyung.” Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed, like he’s trying to recall the moment as perfectly as possible. Yoongi continues the same circular motion. He can’t interrupt. Not now. “If you ever get to see him focus on you like that, you’d understand. I was talking about philosophy. Or music? Or, probably both, knowing me, and I’d been talking for hours by that point, and he was so focused and staring so much, and when I got self-conscious and stopped, he pushed me against a tree and kissed me, hyung. I liked him so much. Hoseok is incredible. He’s got so much heart and he understands people in a way that I don’t and he makes it look so easy to care, to look after people.”
Yoongi’s chest clenches hard with the sheer force of his want and he resists the urge to curl over himself like a pillbug. His mouth is dry. “And then?”
If Namjoon notices the desert’s worth of drought in his voice, the salt-edged rasp, he’s kind enough to not say anything. “I think we spent about a week in bed together. It was… transformative, to say the least. And then we went into service. We were stationed apart and he turned down every attempt I made to hang out with him, and I figured that the least I could do was take the hint gracefully. Next time I saw him, we were at opposing firms. And then everything that used to be easy wasn’t anymore.”
“Now you two are fighting all the time, huh. You’re too proud to apologize to each other.”
“I’m not-“ Namjoon starts, but he falls silent when Yoongi tugs at his hair. “I’m not too proud.”
“Yah, Kim Namjoon, hyung hasn’t known you all that long and knows you have a lot of pride. Sure, you might apologize if you actually thought you’d done anything wrong, but you don’t think you have, so you won’t take that first step. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why Hoseok would be mad at you either. That’s a him-question, not a me-question.”
“He probably wouldn’t tell me even if I asked,” says Namjoon, petulant. Yoongi tugs his hair again, partly to get him to shut up and partly to watch the way his eyes flutter, the way his mouth drops open just a touch, an invitation Yoongi can’t take.
“I don’t know.” Yoongi hopes the desire isn’t too obvious in his voice. Maybe he can mask it as wryness instead. “But if you asked, maybe you’d get to resolve the frankly indecent sexual tension that’s suffocating me. Please fuck and get it over with.”
Namjoon sputters, a bright flush turning his cheeks red, and Yoongi cackles loudly, is still cackling when an irate, fresh from the shower Hoseok sticks his head in and tells them to keep it down. Laughter is easier than noticing the pretty dip of Hoseok’s collarbones or admitting how badly Yoongi wants to tell him to drop the towel slung around his waist and to come drawl into his lap. Laughter at Namjoon’s mortification. At how Namjoon’s eyes go hot and hungry at the sight of Hoseok.
(Laughter is easier, but it’s nothing compared to how much Yoongi wants.)
New flooring and new wiring, and Yoongi fixing up the plumbing system and building bookshelves and window seats takes time, and before he knows it, the new walls have been put in too, covered in new sheetrock. Six months, Yoongi thinks, and it’s finally time to paint the walls. Six months, and he’s gotten so comfortable with Namjoon and Hoseok that it’s difficult to resist the urge to touch them, to press kisses to Hoseok’s pretty mouth, to let Namjoon wrap him in a hug.
Six months and only three more to go before they leave him forever.
Just a little longer, Yoongi thinks, and he can nurse his heartbreak in peace.
“I think one wall in here should be yellow.”
“I think I read a book that said yellow walls were a bad idea,” Namjoon mutters, but he accepts the slap on his shoulder Hoseok gives him with a grin, clearly teasing. “But it might be nice.”
Yoongi wrinkles his nose.
“Careful, Joonie,” Hoseok yells, tickling the back of Namjoon’s neck. “You never know when surprises might occur!”
“Yah, Jung Hoseok!” Namjoon says, whirling and-
Spattering paint from his paintbrush everywhere on the pristine primed wall.
Yoongi stares at it, watching the way the paint drips down before it lights something in him. Ignoring Hoseok’s nervous murmured apologies, he dips his brush into a different can of paint, this one a cornflower blue. And then, with a flick of his wrist, he sprays paint on the walls.
He turns to the other two, eyes wide.
“New plan,” says Yoongi.
It gets messy quick, because of course it does. They end up covered in paint just as much as the wall does, and it’s good. Hoseok and Namjoon are laughing, and Yoongi’s heart is a bright ball of light within his chest, glowing from being around his two favorite people, the two best people, so happy that he forgets-
(That he forgets that he isn’t allowed to want. Not when he sees the way they look at each other when the other isn’t paying attention. Forgets that he isn’t supposed to want to kiss them both so badly.)
“Yoongi-hyung!”
Hoseok, bright and beautiful, stops Yoongi from grabbing another paintbrush with a hand on his arm, leaning in very close.
His breath catches.
Hoseok grins widely, speckled with paint like freckles over his cheeks, as he reaches out and rubs his thumb across Yoongi’s forehead, smearing paint in his wake. “Simba,” he intones solemnly, and then shrieks when Namjoon slaps him on the ass. “Namjoon! Namjoon, what the fuck!”
Shrugging, Namjoon raises his hand, wiggling his green paint-stained fingers. “Sorry, Hobi. You weren’t too attached to those jeans, were you?”
In a stunning display of flexibility, Hoseok twists to see the large handprint Namjoon left on his cheek. His eyes narrow. “Joonie. You’re asking for it.”
Yoongi notices a bucket of the blue paint right beside him. He reaches out slowly to dip his hand in, and Namjoon’s eyes widen. “Am I, Hob-ah?” Namjoon’s smile widens. “What, exactly, am I asking for? It’s not like those were expensive.”
“It’s not like you would know that, now would you?” Hoseok asks sweetly, and he steps a crucial inch away from Yoongi.
Who takes it as the opening it is to slap Hoseok’s unblemished asscheek, creating a matching handprint in blue across his light wash jeans.
When Hoseok turns around, eyes wide, vaguely betrayed, hot in a way Yoongi didn’t examine too closely, Yoongi shrugs. Dryly, he says, “Go team.”
“Oh that is it. COME HERE!”
Yoongi sees the speckled wall later, after his shower where he kept finding darts of color in unexpected places, and as he tilts his head to examine it, he finds that he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he finds he likes it more than the plain accent wall he was going for originally. He’s so absorbed in looking at it that he doesn’t hear anyone come into the room.
“Sorry about all that, hyung,” Namjoon says from behind him.
Yoongi almost closes his eyes and leans back into Namjoon’s warmth before he remembers himself and shakes his head. “I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have let you two continue if I had really minded. Besides, it looks… nice. Kinda like it needs some graffiti on top of it.”
Sitting down beside Yoongi on the floor, Namjoon wordlessly passes him a cold beer, examining the wall himself. “It does, doesn’t it? I like it. Probably more than just a plain wall.”
They drink in silence for a moment as they both look over the mess, Yoongi with fondness and Namjoon with a streak of pink still on the upcurve of his cheek. Yoongi busies his hands with picking at the label of his bottle.
“Would you ever tell him?” Yoongi asks the question out of nowhere, knows it’s out of nowhere. Namjoon twitches beside him. “About how you feel. That you’re still in love with him?”
“I…” Namjoon sighs, scrubs a hand through his short hair. “No? Probably not. That ship has long since sailed. There’s no guarantee he even feels the same way anymore, especially not after how I’ve been acting towards him. Sure, I was in love with him. Am in love with him. But it’s only been, what, six months living together now, after years of not speaking to each other? There’s no way he feels the same. Besides…”
Yoongi cocks his head, bottle against his mouth. Namjoon’s gaze darts down, and Yoongi’s heart kicks up unsteadily. “Besides, what?”
“Yeah, Joonie. Besides, what?”
“Hobi.” Namjoon stands, Hoseok’s nickname dropping from his lips like a habit. Yoongi follows suit but slower. Hoseok’s eyes dart between them, curious, a determined set to his mouth. “How… you were listening? How much did you hear?”
Hoseok hums. “More than you probably wanted me to.” Yoongi edges around the table as Hoseok approaches from the other side, a numbness prickling its staticky way across his shoulder and down into his lungs. “I never knew that was how you felt about me, Joonie.”
“Every time I tried to talk about it, you looked like you’d rather be dead. What was I supposed to think?” says Namjoon with the distant voice of someone who isn’t quite sure what was happening yet. Dumbass, Yoongi thinks fondly despite himself, despite how the notch in his chest is getting sharper now. Dumbasses the both of them. “You never said anything either.”
Hoseoks pushes his hair back from his forehead. Yoongi can’t tell if his expression is exasperation or the very beginnings of joy, can’t bring himself to look at him long enough to find out. “I was all over you! Namjoonie, I couldn’t have been more obvious that I was super into you if I tried!”
Ah.
Yeah.
Time to leave. Yoongi edges around the corner and darts to freedom, ignoring the way it’s gotten so hard to breathe. Right before Yoongi closes the door, he catches a glimpse of Hoseok’s delicate hands framing Namjoon’s face, thumbs stroking over cheekbones as Namjoon reaches up to grasp his birdboned wrists, enveloping them completely, and something in his chest clenches.
The darkness of the hallway is a blessed reprieve.
There is a devastating silence. The way an explosion in space is silent. Yoongi presses his back against the door, and his hands and lips ache with the phantom pressure of Namjoon and Hoseok’s skin. He wants to be in there. He wants to have his hand on their hips, their necks, wants to look his fill as they kiss, and then he wants to be kissed in turn by a full mouth and a heart-shaped one. But that won’t happen. He can’t breathe. Namjoon is kissing Hoseok in his kitchen and Yoongi has to step outside because being any closer is torture because it will never be close enough.
But if this makes them happy….
If this makes them happy, well. Yoongi is well-versed in the art of not saying anything for the sake of other people’s happiness.
A soft murmur of voices startles Yoongi out of his reverie. He stumbles, one step, two, before hurrying up the stairs, ignoring the sound that might have been his name.
Not seeing it may not make it any less real, but Yoongi doesn’t have to be a front row spectator to their kiss in order to be heartbroken. He’s a grown man. He can handle that by himself.
He’ll just have to avoid them.
Yoongi startles at a knock on his door.
“Hyung?”
Hoseok.
“Hyung, can we talk?”
“What about?” Yoongi asks in what he thinks is a remarkably even voice.
A sigh. “Open the door?” Namjoon asks. “We have something we need to talk to you about.”
Right.
Yoongi swallows.
Opening the door, he says, “If it’s about the house, I’ve decided to go ahead and give it to you guys,” when he hasn’t decided that at all until his mouth opened, but it’s the only thing he can think of to stave off the conversation about how they’re together now and grateful to him for bringing them together, when all Yoongi wants is to push between them and pull them around himself.
Namjoon blinks. “It. Isn’t about the house. What do you mean, give it to us?”
“I’ve just. It’s been six months already,” Yoongi mutters. He knows his voice is getting small and grumbly the way it does when he doesn’t really want to say anything at all. “I figured. If you two are a thing now, it should be yours. I’m almost done fixing it up, anyways. You’ll have to decide which one of you it should go to, because I can’t pick. Never could.”
A spark lights in Hoseok’s eyes. “Never could pick between us, huh? So if you had your way, you’d have us both?”
Yoongi’s mouth is dry. “I… um.”
“If it’s up to us to decide who it goes to, hyung,” says Namjoon, steady and solemn and his eyes twinkling the way they do when he’s up to something and things he’s terribly clever, “Then we both say we’re giving it to you. Right, Hobi?”
Hoseok nods emphatically.
“What?” Yoongi asks, voice cracking halfway through. “What? What do you mean? You can’t just-“
“Can and will, hyung.” Hoseok takes a daring step forward, and Yoongi isn’t fast enough to escape this time, not when Hoseok’s hand trails down his arm, wraps steadily around his wrist. “We talked about it. This house is yours. You made it yours. We couldn’t just take that away from you.”
“Oh. Then… what will the two of you do?”
They trade nervous glances. Yoongi looks between them, his brow furrowed. “Well,” Namjoon starts, a dark flush working its way across his cheeks. “We were thinking that maybe you would let us stay? This isn’t something we want without having you here too. You balance us out and-“
“And you’re so cute, hyung,” Hoseok says. His grip flexes before he carefully pulls Yoongi closer. This doesn’t make any sense, Yoongi thinks, his heart going crazy because it sounds like-
Namjoon steps in behind Yoongi, effectively sandwiching him between them. His voice is deep, a little hoarse when he says, “You really are cute, and well, the two of us are okay on our own, but we’re better with you here too.”
It sounds like-
“We like you so much, hyung,” Hoseok whispers against Yoongi’s cheek right before he presses a kiss there.
Yoongi’s brain short circuits.
“Very much,” Namjoon agrees, mirroring the gesture to Yoongi’s other cheek.
“What,” says Yoongi.
“I want to try dating you,” says Hoseok. “I want to date you and Namjoonie. Polyamory is a thing, you know.”
“I know what polyamory is, Hoseok, I’ve been polyam my whole life.” Yoongi blinks at Hoseok, then at Namjoon. Tentatively, he brings his hands up to grasp at Hoseok’s waist, at Namjoon’s shoulder, sliding his fingers over them to ensure they are very real and very warm. Then, quietly, disbelievingly, he asks, “You really want to date me?”
Namjoon chuckles, bending over to nose at the curve of Yoongi’s neck and oh, oh that’s nice. Namjoon is so tall that the reminder staggers Yoongi sometimes. “Yes, hyung, we do. I like you so much.”
“I like you too,” says Yoongi, suddenly realizing that he hasn’t said it back yet at all. “I like you both. I… this is a terrible decision and it’s going to end horrifically, but you guys said it and there are no takebacks.”
“I would never take back something like this.” Hoseok’s grip flexes again and he cocks his head, eyes dropping. Yoongi has never been more aware of his mouth, running his tongue across his lips just to see Hoseok’s eyes darken. “Hey, hyung, can I kiss you?”
Yoongi barely has time to whisper, “Yes,” before Hoseok is there.
Hoseok kisses him slowly, letting the contact stay soft and chaste for a moment before he shifts to try a slightly different angle. He catches Yoongi’s lower lip, opens for a brief flash of tongue. Yoongi tightens his grip on Hoseok’s waist, shivers when Namjoon starts kissing Yoongi’s neck, and then lets himself be consumed. Hoseok kisses him like he’s got all the time in the world to learn how Yoongi likes it best. It just encourages Yoongi to be needy, to open up and urge him on, and he reaches back to drag Namjoon up for a kiss too. Soft and plush, Namjoon doesn’t open as wide as Hoseok does, but he’s more focused.
“Okay?” Hoseok asks, skimming the soft skin of Yoongi’s stomach.
Yoongi breathes out shakily. “Okay. Come here, both of you.”
And they do.
“I really like what you’ve done with the place,” Seokjin says, watching Taehyung and Jimin gang up relentlessly on a competitive Jeongguk, trying to get him to overbalance in his self-imposed lifting contest. “It feels like a home.”
Sprawled out in Namjoon’s lap, feet kicked up and currently being massaged by Hoseok, Yoongi grunts out his agreement. It does feel like a home. It feels like his home. “Well, you know, we worked hard on it.”
“Your companies aren’t too mad that you weren’t able to get this land?”
Namjoon shakes his head. “A lost contract is a lost contract. It isn’t the end of the world. Just business.”
“Besides, we get to have Yoongi-hyung now, and that’s way more important,” Hoseok chimes in. He drops a kiss to Yoongi’s shin. “My brave spider catcher.”
“Yah, knock it off,” Yoongi says, pushing his feet harder into Hoseok’s hands, squirming with restrained delight.
“No, I don’t think I will. You like it.”
“I like you.”
Namjoon drops a kiss on top of Yoongi’s head. “I like you too.”
Yoongi wrinkles his nose but doesn’t fight it at all, basking instead in the affection his boyfriends give him, in the knowing look in Seokjin’s eyes, in the clamor of delight ringing through the walls of his house, and knows that they have, indeed, managed to build a home together.