Chapter Text
Yoongi doesn’t get paid enough for this shit. To be realistic he doesn’t get paid enough, period. His job at the local cinema makes minimum wage, and his day-to-day routine is boring and tiring; he deals with absurd movie-goers leaving messes everywhere they go, taking their frustrations with pricing out on him, and being generally inconsiderate. But he especially does not get paid enough to be dealing with this. This being— a fully-grown, gangly man sitting alone in the now otherwise-empty theater that held the 7:30pm showing of Little Women and sobbing into his hands. Yoongi had waited in the corner next to his large trash can on wheels while movie-goers filed out, squishing his face into what he hoped was a polite smile and thanking them for coming. Once the majority of the theater had cleared he began sweeping up the tiny, crushed-up pieces of popcorn from the floor avoiding the last few stragglers who were taking their time listening to the score, or actually reading the credits, or doing whatever it is that people who stay this long in the theater do. But eventually, all of those people made their exit too, and Yoongi diligently went about his task of cleaning up the messes left behind. All of them except one, that is.
This means that 10 minutes later the only row that hasn't been cleaned up yet is the one that the crying man occupies. Normally, Yoongi wouldn't care. He'd have no issue walking out of the theater with the job half done and leaving the patrons to their own devices. The thing was, Yoongi's manager has already been on his ass today and he really isn't looking for a reason to get chewed out any more. Mr. Lee is a sad, lonely, middle-aged man who thinks having a managerial role at the cinema gives him the right to inflict misery on his employees who are really just trying to make ends meet. It certainly doesn’t help that Yoongi has been declared the “most troublesome” employee at the theater. He doesn’t take it personally— it has much less to do with Yoongi being lazy or bad at his overall very easy job and more to do with the fact that he has a penchant for sticking up for the younger kids he works with, and taking the fall from Mr. Lee when they mess up. Nevertheless, getting fired is not exactly on his agenda for the day. Yoongi takes a breath, weighs his options a final time, and nears the man still sniffling at the end of the row.
When his approach garners no reaction, Yoongi clears his throat. The crying man's head snaps up to look at him, blinking dazedly. He scrubs at his face as if that will erase any evidence of his tears.
"Sorry," the man mumbles, but he chokes on the last syllable.
Yoongi chews on his thumbnail, uncomfortable and unsure. Displays of emotion are healthy, he knows this. He's just never been much good at reacting to them coming from other people, especially strangers. He settles for handing the man a small bundle of napkins that may or may not have residual popcorn butter grease on them.
"Are you... is everything alright?"
"Sorry," the man repeats, "it's just— the movie. Jo is so right, you know? About the double standards for women. And how they face this huge burden of either dedicating themselves to their own personal growth or familial duty. Society deems it as this mutually exclusive thing for them while for men it’s just assumed that having a career and being a ‘bread-winner’ is their role in the family and we know that’s utter bullshit! And of course, that doesn’t even begin to touch on how women of color are disenfranchised. Plus gender roles are still mostly viewed like that today, which is horrible to see, but it’s why Little Women remains a classic, I guess.
“And— and Beth! God, she was just so good and didn't deserve to die and it just goes to show that loss is inevitable and no matter how you spend your time on this earth we all die in the end, right? But that's exactly why we should spend our time trying to be as kind as Beth March so that we can leave that sort of impact behind, even in so few years and Marmee—"
The man blinks hard, looks around himself at the empty theater and flushes.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I'm sitting here rambling on and the movie ended ages ago."
As if on cue the score from the end-credits fades out and the screen goes black. The theater lights come up and Yoongi still has no idea what to say to this (wow, extremely handsome) stranger who gets worked up to the point of tears over a Louisa May Alcott story. He's trying to figure out how to tell the man he thinks he knows how he feels; that Yoongi doesn't mind the rambling because he thinks the man makes good points. In fact, Yoongi would love to hear the rest of what he has to say on this matter, along with his opinions on all kinds of other things. He could listen to this guy talk forever, maybe. He wants to reach out and pull on the man's lower lip to stop him from gnawing on it nervously. And hey— that's a weird thought, right? Since when the hell does Yoongi want to go around touching strangers' mouths?
He goes to take a small step closer and is instead greeted by the distinct sound of his mandatory non-slip shoes peeling up from a sticky puddle of what could only be melted icee. The sound is deafening in the now-silent theater.
The man looks down at Yoongi's feet before glancing back up at his face, and then quickly taking a peek at his nametag. He clears his throat.
"I really am sorry, Yoongi-ssi. I'll clear out now." He stands up in a hurry, nearly tripping over his own feet in the haste and bundling his coat in his arms. He makes it down four steps before Yoongi finds his voice again.
"It's okay!"
The man pauses in his tracks and looks back over his shoulder, his expression painted with confusion.
"It's okay, um..."
“Namjoon,” the man offers after a beat. “I’m Kim Namjoon.”
“Min Yoongi,” Yoongi responds, realizing as soon as it has left his mouth that Namjoon already deduced as much from his nametag. He continues on hastily, “I cried the first time I saw this version too. It’s beautiful. Sometimes just hearing the score during my shifts chokes me up so— don’t feel bad or anything.”
Namjoon nods, slowly. Yoongi knows that he could end it there; wish Namjoon a good night and get back to work. But now the other man is turning back around to fully face Yoongi and something about the look in his eyes makes Yoongi feel like he’s not quite ready to let this conversation die. Namjoon seems to be searching Yoongi’s face and whatever he’s looking for, Yoongi hopes he doesn’t disappoint.
“I agree with everything you were saying earlier too. About the themes of the story and the relevancy it still has? And there’s an extra layer of irony when you consider how the film is being received right now.”
“Right?” Namjoon enthuses, “Greta Gerwig wasn’t even nominated for an Academy Award! How twisted is that?”
Yoongi feels a little more confident now that he’s found his footing in their discussion. His reply comes easy.
“That’s exactly what I mean! Her directing was phenomenal, and yet she gets snubbed. I mean, Bong Joon-ho is going to win regardless. But still, only male nominees?”
Namjoon opens his mouth to respond but he’s interrupted by the walkie-talkie on Yoongi’s belt loop chirping. A moment later a staticy voice sounds from the radio.
“Hyung, are you finished in theater seven yet?”
Yoongi rubs the back of his neck and mutters a quiet ‘sorry’ to Namjoon before responding into the walkie-talkie.
“Just about, Kook.”
“Uh, okay. I need your help when you’re done. SOS.”
“Gimme just a sec.”
“10-4.”
A sigh escapes Yoongi as he clasps the radio back on his pants. He knows that the disruption killed the moment and trying to dive back into their conversation would feel stilted and forced. A wave of disappointment moves through him, making his stomach churn. He’s not ready to see Namjoon go. There’s something about the man that Yoongi finds captivating. His openness, maybe. The kind of vulnerability and conviction it takes to launch into a feminist rant after a being caught crying by a complete stranger. The fact that Namjoon is several centimeters taller than Yoongi, with lean limbs and plush lips certainly doesn’t hurt either.
“I really should get going. Thank you, Yoongi-ssi. I was nice talking to you,” Namjoon smiles jovially and suddenly Yoongi is confronted with the most impressive dimples he’s ever seen in his life. His mind is momentarily wiped blank.
He raises one hand in a half-hearted wave, “Have a nice night.”
As Namjoon turns on his heel and makes his way out of the theater, Yoongi takes up his broom and dustpan. He starts moving down the last aisle of seats that require sweeping and grins to himself when he reaches where Namjoon had been sitting. The area is spotless, not a single piece of trash left behind. Not even the horrible, crumbled popcorn napkin Yoongi had thrust at him. It’s the tiniest thing, but Yoongi is enamored.
When he’s finished, Yoongi makes his way out to the lobby to find Jungkook. He’s a good kid— one of Yoongi’s favorite co-workers, in his first year of film school and trying to save up some money for a nice camera. Being surrounded by movies all the time seems to make Jungkook happy even if part of his job description includes scrubbing toilets on occasion. Between his doe eyes and eager smile all of the customers adore him and Yoongi’s reluctant to admit but he’s quite protective of him.
As it turns out, Jungkook is stationed at the concessions stand, wide eyes staring off into thin air. Yoongi glances around to see if he can scope out the supposed cause of Junkook’s distress signal, but there’s not much to see. Aside from the two of them and a handful of patrons making their way from the ticket usher to their respective theaters the lobby is fairly empty. Yoongi approaches him cautiously.
“Jungkook-ah. You look two seconds away from bursting into tears. What’s up?”
Yoongi doesn’t know just how much more crying he can handle tonight. Jungkook blinks a couple of times before turning to Yoongi.
“Ah, hyung! You’re here! Please help me.”
Jungkook side-steps and Yoongi is immediately able to spot the problem. The better half of the floor behind the concessions counter is covered in an enormous puddle fluorescent yellow-orange liquid. He wrinkles his nose.
“What the hell happened?”
“Nayeon-noona was having trouble with the butter pump sticking. I thought I could use some brute force on it and I did but–” Jungkook mimics the sound of an explosion and then gestures helplessly at the artificial butter that’s now coating the counters and floor. Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, willing the nearly inevitable headache to stay away.
“Where are the twins?” He asks after a moment.
Jimin and Taehyung aren’t actually brothers, let alone twins; the same-age friends were hired together and are practically connected at the hip, earning them the nickname. Yoongi’s pretty sure everyone will need to stop referring to the two like that if his suspicions of their mutually more-than-platonic feelings are ever addressed— but he’s leaving that up to Jimin and Taehyung to parse out themselves. For now, it’s slightly less of a mouthful to call them that.
“They went on break,” Jungkook answers, and Yoongi nods.
“Good. Don’t let them see this. They’ll probably try to use it for a slip-and-slide contest or some shit and then we’ll have an even bigger mess.”
Noticing Jungkook perk up at this, Yoongi points a finger at him.
“No. That wasn’t a suggestion. Stay here for a second and make sure nothing else happens.”
Jungkook mock salutes and giggles slightly to himself. Yoongi, sighing, cuts a glance at the manager’s office in the corner. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed that the door is firmly shut. He goes to fetch a mop.
~
Two days later, Yoongi finds himself slumped in an overstuffed armchair in the corner of his favorite café. He’s holding a mason jar full of iced Americano in between his hands, the condensation beading enough that every few minutes a fat drop slides down the glass and onto Yoongi’s white tee shirt. He doesn’t move. Hoseok is frowning at him from across the table— that sort of pinched look that turns his mouth into a triangle shape. It's actually pretty cute, but making Hoseok frown is a big no-no. Against all friendship rules. Seokjin arrives a moment later and slaps a tray of assorted baked goods down in the middle of the table under the pretense that they'll all try a little of each. Yoongi knows this isn't the way things will go because they've been coming to this coffee shop together for going on three years and that's never the way things go. Hoseok isn't really big on sweets to begin with and Yoongi will get about three bites of the tiramisu in before Seokjin inevitably slides the tray in front of himself, just out of Yoongi's polite reach and devours what's left.
Yoongi lets out a small sigh, but it's one of contentment. This is their process, and it's good, and it works for them. Hoseok's frown grows even tighter as he extends a napkin out in Yoongi's direction, presumably to help with his dripping cup. Yoongi does not reach to grab it, looking up at his friend through his lashes instead and sighing once more.
"Hyung," Hoseok starts, leaning forward and mopping the moisture off of Yoongi's cup himself. "What's up with you today?"
"Your straw is going to dissolve," Seokjin points out, taking stock of Yoongi's current position. He then promptly scorches his mouth on a too-big gulp of vanilla latte.
Hoseok plucks the disintegrating paper out of Yoongi's drink and takes a fresh napkin to dab at the wet spot on his shirt. Yoongi allows himself to be doted on, leaning his head back until it thumps against the top of his chair.
"I'm in love," he laments.
Seokjin and Hoseok exchange a look before turning their attention back to their melodramatic friend.
"You're...in love?" Seokjin repeats slowly, picking up a spoon and then setting it back down again after a moment of consideration. "And this has happened in the past four days since we saw you last?"
"Yes," Yoongi pouts.
"I'm lost," Hoseok admits, scooting back in his chair and looking around like the answer will suddenly materialize in this very café.
"Yoongi-chi, explain."
Yoongi doesn't feel like he has the energy to make his friends understand, really, but he's the one who brought it up so he supposes he owes them an attempt. He lifts his head a fraction and fixes his gaze on them.
"There was this guy crying in one of the theaters on Saturday and I'm pretty sure he's the love of my life."
"I still don't understand," Seokjin admits after a beat. At least Hoseok isn't frowning anymore. In fact, as the seconds pass a shit-eating grin seems to be stretching wider and wider across his face.
"Let's hear it, hyung. Why's this dude the love of your life?"
Yoongi does his best to recount the events of finding Namjoon in the theater. He's pretty sure he sounds insane but considering it's Hoseok and Seokjin he's talking to, he's not super worried about that.
"And then he went off on this tangent about how relevant the themes of the movie still are today and the unfair double standards for women and honestly, it was so hot."
Seokjin nods approvingly, pushing a dish with a mini quiche in Hoseok's direction.
"Sensitive and educated, reminds me of myself. That is hot."
Yoongi rubs a hand over his face.
"Hyung, please."
"Are you sure he wasn't, like, putting on an act? Trying to impress someone he was with or something?" Hoseok shifts in his seat. Yoongi knows he means well with his questions, just trying to cover all possibilities and look out for Yoongi.
"He was alone. And he seemed pretty embarrassed when I first noticed him. So I'm going to guess that wasn't it.”
“Hoseok,” Seokjin tsks, “stop projecting your Aquarius-capacity for emotions onto strangers. People cry.”
Hobi sticks out his tongue before taking a petulant sip of his strawberry smoothie.
“Fine. So the guy’s in touch with his emotions or whatever.”
“Or whatever,” Yoongi and Seokjin mock in unison, immediately bursting into laughter.
“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Jin-hyung!”
The tips of Seokjin’s ears turn bright red and he sits up stiffly in his chair.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Yoongi slaps a hand down on the table, using a little more force than he intended and jostling their silverware. A couple of the other people inside the coffee shop spare their table a glance at the sudden noise. He really doesn’t think they need to be getting into that particular conversation right now. Clearing his throat, he draws his hand back towards himself and primly laces his fingers together on the tabletop.
“I thought we were talking about my love life,” Yoongi whines.
Seokjin narrows his eyes at Hoseok one last time before returning his attention to Yoongi.
“What else happened then?”
“We got to talking some more but Jungkook interrupted with his butter catastrophe.”
“Okay,” Seokjin responds, pointing a finger at Yoongi’s chest, “I definitely want to hear more about that later.”
Hoseok nods in agreement and then asks, “So, what now?”
Yoongi feels his heart sink in his chest. What now? All his focus has been reminiscing on and romanticizing his first conversation with Namjoon. He hasn’t even begun to look forward and consider how, or even if, something more could come of it. Of course he’s interested. But where could he go from here? Maybe it was just a chance encounter and he’s already missed his shot at a real connection with Namjoon.
“Uh…”
“Did you, like, get his number or anything?” Hoseok asks through a mouthful of quiche.
“No.”
Seokjin is shaking his head ever so slightly, a smile playing on his lips. “Useless,” he admonishes fondly.
~
Manning the ticket booth is Yoongi’s second favorite responsibility at work, right after switching film reels. He gets to sit down and his interaction with customers is extremely limited considering most people utilize the automated ticket kiosks on the other end of the lobby or pick out their seat in advance using mobile apps these days. Yoongi’s busiest times end up being Tuesday matinees when he happily helps a group of his favorite regulars, ten little old ladies who meet up with one another to take advantage of the cinema’s senior discount. It also means that he usually gets to be alone in the booth, but tonight is a Friday and Mr. Lee won’t suck up his pride enough to admit his mistake in over-scheduling them during a slow month and send anyone home. Taehyung sits to Yoongi’s right, humming to himself and working on his latest knitting project.
“What’s this one going to be?”
“A scarf for Jiminnie,” Taehyung answers, his needles keeping up their steady pace.
Yoongi hums in acknowledgment.
“I like the colors,” he runs one finger over the careful stitches— bright yellow and a blue that reminds him of the summer sky. Taehyung beams.
Someone clears their throat politely from outside of the booth and Yoongi switches his mic on. He gives Taehyung one last smile before turning his attention to the patron.
“Welcome! How can I—”
Yoongi lets his words trail off as his brain catches up to what he’s seeing. Standing in front of him is none other than Kim Namjoon. It’s been less than a week since they first met and he didn’t know whether or not to hope they’d see each other again at all, let alone so soon. Yoongi’s heart skips a beat and then works double-time to catch up. Namjoon is wearing a pair of wire-framed glasses perched low on his nose and looks a bit sheepish. Yoongi can’t stop his thoughts from chanting cute cute cute in time with his pounding pulse.
“Oh, Namjoon-ssi!”
Namjoon startles slightly and Yoongi wonders if maybe it was weird for him to recognize and remember the other man.
“Yoongi-ssi. Hi. It’s— uh, nice to see you again.”
Yoongi couldn’t stop the resulting grin from spreading across his face even if he wanted to. There’s a moment where neither of them say anything and Yoongi has to pretend he doesn’t notice Taehyung in his peripheral vision, very obviously leaning closer to eavesdrop. Namjoon glances at his watch and Yoongi suddenly remembers himself.
“What’ll it be today? Another tear-jerker?”
Namjoon flushes at the words and Yoongi almost wishes that he could take them back. A small part of him is slightly fascinated by the color creeping across Namjoon’s cheeks. Still, he doesn’t feel great about teasing Namjoon, even if it wasn’t meant to be mean-spirited.
“Nothing wrong with that,” he adds, gently, but Namjoon is already shaking his head.
“No, I’m here to see, um,” Namjoon squints up at the showtimes for a second, “ The Dawn.”
Yoongi has to clench his hands in his lap to keep himself from vocalizing how horribly adorable he finds it that Namjoon doesn’t just push up his glasses to help him read. He distracts himself by turning to the monitor on the desk to punch in the selection. He raises his eyebrows, a bit surprised by the film.
“Brave of you to see this one alone. It’s the scariest movie I’ve watched in years.” Maybe he shouldn’t, but he sees his opportunity to dig and takes it. “Unless you’re meeting a date..?”
A single, staccato laugh seems to force itself out of Namjoon before he slaps a hand over his mouth. Taehyung looks between Namjoon and Yoongi as if he’s observing a tennis match. A moment later, Namjoon regains his composure.
“Nope, no date. Just the one ticket please.”
Yoongi nods and rings up the purchase. Okay, so no date. That’s what he’d been hoping to hear, but Namjoon’s tone was distant, almost curt. It might have been too presumptuous of Yoongi to ask. The last thing he wants is to make Namjoon uncomfortable.
“One ticket for The Dawn . You’re going to be in theater eleven. Enjoy the show Namjoon-ssi.”
“You too,” Namjoon responds distractedly and then blanches. Yoongi isn’t phased. After working in the service industry for years, he’s heard this at least a hundred times, but Namjoon is quick to correct himself. “I didn’t— uh, I meant ‘thank you’.”
He reaches out and takes his ticket stub from Yoongi. Their fingers brush for a fraction of an instant and Yoongi feels a thrill run down his spine. Namjoon hesitates for a moment and looks like he’s going to say something more before turning away and heading into the lobby.
“What was that?” Taehyung asks in fascination. He’s managed to scoot his chair in so close that he’s only millimeters away from being pressed against Yoongi’s side.
“That,” Yoongi responds, lazily waving a hand towards Namjoon’s retreating form, “is the love of my life, probably.”
Delighted, Taehyung bombards Yoongi with a hundred more questions until there’s a short knock on the door at the back of the booth and Jimin steps in.
“Yoongi-hyung,” he announces, “I’m here to relieve you. Mr. Lee wants you on headcount duty.” He hands a clipboard and pen over to Yoongi and smiles sweetly.
“Jimin,” Taehyung says from his spot, still seated way too close, “hyung is sick.”
“What?” Jimin leans down and holds Yoongi’s face between his palms to examine him. His eyes have gone wide.
“Lovesick,” Taehyung clarifies.
Jimin gasps, squeezing Yoongi’s cheeks until his lips are involuntarily pouting out. “Oh, no. That’s so sad! Snap out of it Yoongi-hyung, you’re only allowed to love us,” he teases.
Yoongi rolls his eyes and pulls his head out of Jimin’s grip. Telling Taehyung about Namjoon was probably a mistake because there isn’t any information that goes through him that doesn’t make its way to Jimin—and inevitably Jungkook as well. It’s not so much that he cares to keep it a secret, he just knows that now on top of Seokjin and Hoseok’s unhelpful takes, he’ll also be dealing with flack from his work dongsaengs.
“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi responds sarcastically. “See you two later.”
“Bye!” Taehyung and Jimin chime in unison.
It’s after checking two theaters that Yoongi notices the person sitting on a bench near the restrooms. His head is resting back against the wall and he has his eyes squeezed shut. Yoongi approaches him, confused.
“Namjoon-ssi..?”
Namjoon peers one eye open to see who called him.
“Ah, Yoongi-ssi,” he says, and then quietly adds, “of course.”
At a closer look, Yoongi notices just how pale Namjoon’s face has gone. He thinks the man’s hands might be shaking, too, but he tries not to stare too hard.
“Are you okay?” Yoongi glances towards the theater where the movie that Namjoon paid to see is very much still running.
Namjoon scrubs a hand down his face. “Would you believe me if I said I had to step out to take a phone call?”
“Must have been some call,” Yoongi responds, giving him another concerned once-over. Namjoon chuckles weakly.
“Wait here,” Yoongi instructs, even though he’s pretty sure Namjoon wasn’t planning on going anywhere in that state any time soon. When he returns, Yoongi holds out a churro and a bottle of water from the concession stand. Namjoon blinks at him, surprised.
“You look like you could use some sugar,” Yoongi says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. Namjoon takes the treats and sets them next to him on the bench. He reaches for his pocket, presumably to grab his wallet, but Yoongi waves it off. “Don’t worry about it. On me.”
“Thank you.”
Yoongi sits down on Namjoon’s other side and stretches his legs out in front of him. “So, do you want to talk about what you’re really doing out here?”
“I don’t do well with gore and horror,” Namjoon admits after a short pause.
“That’s fairly common, I think,” when he gets no response, Yoongi trudges on. “My best friend Hobi is the biggest scaredy-cat I’ve ever met. You couldn’t even pay him to sit through ten minutes of that,” he gestures to the theater Namjoon had been in.
Namjoon hums in understanding, “Smart guy.” He nibbles at the churro Yoongi brought him, eyes going wide before he takes a second, bigger bite. His tongue darts out to catch some of the cinnamon sugar that was clinging to his upper lip. Yoongi smiles gently.
“Then why’d you decide on this movie, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I wasn’t trying to see this movie,” Namjoon says. He sounds frustrated and his brows are knitted tight.
“Sorry, I guess I don’t really get it.”
Namjoon turns his head to look at Yoongi. His eyes are imploring again, searching Yoongi’s features. It’s as if he’s battling with himself over his next move and wants to get a good read on Yoongi before he proceeds any further. He lets out a long exhale and leans back against the wall once more.
At the same moment, Mr. Lee rounds the corner and spots Yoongi, visibly bristling at the sight of him. Yoongi braces himself as his manager stomps towards them.
“Min! Do you think we pay you to sit around and socialize?”
Yoongi stands up. “No, Mr. Lee, I don’t,” he responds flatly.
“I’m tired of your slacking off. Consider this a warning. In fact, consider this your final one. You’re on thin ice, Min.”
Yoongi pinches his lips together and nods. He can feel the hot flashes of anger and embarrassment simmering just under the surface, but he refuses to lose his composure and become the asshole in this situation. Mr. Lee squares his shoulders and marches off towards the lobby, probably looking for one of Yoongi’s co-workers to belittle. After a few deep breaths to calm himself down, Yoongi turns back to the bench only to realize it’s empty. He glances around and sees Namjoon a few feet away getting ready to leave. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s imagining the flash of guilt on Namjoon’s face when he’s caught walking away.
“Sorry,” Namjoon mumbles, still making his way towards the exit. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. Thanks again.” He hustles out the door in a flash and Yoongi is left standing there staring after him.