Chapter Text
Prologue
Namjoon spat out a glob of blood and spit onto the ground, probably staining his teeth red in the process. The blow to his jaw hurt, yes, but the adrenaline was pushing away the pain as he turned to the guy who’d punched him.
“Shit-
———
-Namjoon?”
And Namjoon returns to the present, his paper cup tilted and spilling coffee onto his smart shoes as he stares at the same person years later, looking completely different and yet exactly the same.
“Yoongi?”
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Chapter 1
There was a small arcade nearby to Namjoon’s house that he visited after school. He would save up his pocket money and play games before he went home for teatime, before he had to focus on homework.
The rhythm games were the best, he was able to stack up tickets once he got the songs memorised. Out of necessity he did cycle through the other games in the arcade; camping at one game was of course frowned upon.
It was during his attempt at a basketball game that he spotted a newer face at the arcade.
The new kid was alone, not entirely unusual for kids here, but he looked serious and focused, a glint in his eye as he got basket after basket in the booth next to Namjoon. Namjoon himself was doing okay, but this kid was getting every basket in like it was nothing. He finished his game with almost double Namjoon’s points, and Namjoon itched to ask how he did it. He stayed silent though, his shyness pushing him to leave the other guy alone, he probably didn’t want to be bothered if he was by himself.
But the kid picked up his swathe of tickets and looked over at Namjoon, eyes flicking between the baskets and Namjoon’s face.
“If you aim a bit higher than you think you’ll get more over the hoop,” he said, his voice quieter and with a slight accent to his vowels.
“O-oh,” Namjoon replied, feeling like this guy had just read his mind, “thanks,”
“S’ok,”
And the kid just nodded his head and left, Namjoon staring curiously after him.
It happened a few more times after that, Namjoon arriving at the arcade, playing a few newer games before spotting the same kid again. He seemed to like the basketball game, and the quick response games like whack-a-mole, but he also spent a lot of time at the rhythm games that Namjoon preferred.
The interactions were often just as short and quiet as their first meeting, but Namjoon was able to figure out more about him as they spent time together.
The kid was around a year older or so, despite Namjoon having a slight height advantage. On their fourth meeting Namjoon learnt that his name was Yoongi, so he became Yoongi-hyung.
Often they would just end up in the same zone in the arcade, playing solo games next to each other, but as they got more comfortable with each other they would get competitive.
Once, Yoongi challenged Namjoon to a DDR game. It wasn’t Namjoon’s first choice but he wasn’t going to back down from the challenge. Not when Yoongi gave a smug grin when he saw him waver, the first involuntary smile Namjoon had probably seen from him.
So it was probably not a surprise that Yoongi hopped about on the machine, obviously with some dance experience so that he could grab the back bar and just step about on the pads rather than using the middle square.
Namjoon’s limbs had started to get to the gangly stage by age twelve so his reach was better, but newly longer legs meant he had less control. He ended up with an average C, while Yoongi got an A, and Namjoon’s perfectionist brain seriously considered learning dance to just get that A grade and match his hyung.
After a moment catching their breath, Yoongi stuck out a hand.
“Good game,”
And Namjoon froze, before reaching out tentatively and shaking Yoongi’s hand. This felt like a change. He’d lost this game, but Yoongi shaking his hand and accepting that he’d done well made him feel like he’d won instead.
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Yoongi was new to this neighbourhood, a busier one than he was used to back in his hometown. It often felt crowded, busy in an unpredictable and messy way.
So Yoongi avoided going out as much, preferring to stay at home and listen to music or play video games. His mother was worried, he could tell, but the move had been stressful so she didn’t bother him too much.
His routine changed once he discovered the arcade a few streets away from his house, one with only a half lit sign and some peeling wallpaper. He wasn’t expecting too much, but the owner had clearly kept on top of newer games that were proving popular. He bought a few tokens, and found that he was pretty great at some of the games there, and so he decided to stay a while before heading home.
His previous basketball experience meant that the basketball game was easy to judge, to get the basket every time. It almost felt like he was cheating when he realised he wasn’t missing a single one.
The kid next to him looked both envious and impressed at the amount of tickets that appeared from Yoongi’s machine, and almost reflexively Yoongi felt like he needed to reassure him. He spoke quietly but said some advice that he thought the kid would find useful, and shyly muttered through the rest of the short conversation before going to the counter. He’d had his eye on that bag of gummy sweets.
He hadn’t planned on going back, but the fun games and surprisingly good value prizes meant that he soon returned a week or so later. The same kid was there again, and it almost felt incomplete if he wasn’t there when Yoongi returned many times over the next year or so.
The kid’s name was Namjoon, a year or so younger despite his unfair height advantage. He was shy, like Yoongi was, but in a different way. He wasn’t like Yoongi, who wouldn’t talk unless he wanted to say something or was forced to. Namjoon seemed filled with a nervous energy, like he wanted to talk but wasn’t sure about whether it would be weird to.
Over that year of seeing each other in the arcade, Yoongi grew to know Namjoon in some ways more than others. He knew that the kid was weirdly good at rhythm games, almost predicting the tune before it happened with a glint in his eye. He didn’t especially like more active games, sometimes not knowing his own reach or strength.
Yoongi didn’t know much about him outside of the arcade, apart from that he had to leave around 5.30pm every time so he could get home for tea. He knew that Namjoon lived somewhere nearby, but they never made plans to meet outside of the arcade. He didn’t even know his last name, and Namjoon didn’t know Yoongi’s.
Not that Yoongi didn’t want to hang out, but it almost felt wrong to imagine the kid outside of the bright lights and electronic music of the arcade.
Yoongi didn’t go every day after school, but when he did Namjoon was always there, quietly intense on a rhythm game, or bright eyed trying to get a high score on a shoot em up console.
Until he wasn’t.
Yoongi got there one day soon after his 15th birthday, and Namjoon wasn’t there. Yoongi thought he’d probably missed him on his first walk around, but he still gripped the straps of his backpack tightly as he walked in a loop around the bright flashing games again.
He wasn’t there. Not on any of the piano based games, or the taiko drum one either. Not even at one of the basketball hoops.
Yoongi told himself that he was overreacting, he was just a kid, maybe he got sick. Maybe he actually broke a bone or something while being clumsy. But his heart still didn’t settle as he played a few games before leaving.
Yoongi didn’t often do consecutive visits to the arcade, usually only going twice a week. But he was weirdly worried about Namjoon, this kid that he hardly knew. So, he went to the arcade the next day, but Namjoon was a no show again.
Yoongi’s worry spiked once he realised that Namjoon was once again not there, and he somehow got the courage to ask the person at the counter.
They had bright purple hair swept out of their face, probably recently turned eighteen in a part time job. Initially Yoongi was worried that they’d just tell him to get lost, but their resting intense look dropped when he asked about Namjoon.
“Nah dude, haven’t seen him for a few days now,” they said, frowning slightly, “I’ve basically see him every day since I started working here, but I’ve not seen him since the end of last week,”
“Oh,” was all Yoongi could say, his anxious feelings somehow justified, “thanks for telling me,”
He bowed his head in gratitude, only offering a tight smile when the employee asked if he was okay.