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This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he proposed to be the one to take care of the laundry and go lay their clothes on the roof. He never thought it would reveal to be such an emotional task. There was nothing in the wires stretched between the pillars of an old dilapidated gazebo and the rusty hooks on the wall and in the faded colored clothespins that should have been anything than boring, and tedious and, for this reason, relaxing. At the questions hidden in the slightly worried eyes of the others, he answered that it was just what he needed. To spend some time alone and in peace after the last mission, take a breath of fresh air, do something that could be considered normal for once, something that was normal to do even before... you know, the usual.
Not to mention that it was the perfect excuse so his hyung would let go of all the nagging about his supposed lack of vitamin-D, bad jokes included.
God, if he hadn’t just gone up and down the stairs with rounds and rounds of wet laundry baskets for the most part of half an hour only to get rid of the bad jokes.
But he was fine with it, he liked repetitive activities, and he had known Seokjin long enough to know that he would soon find other arguments to tease him about.
Ye that disastrous sense of humor was one of the things he had missed during the last three weeks, it was one of the things he always missed when he left for too long. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. He was happy to be back. He was glad to be back home. He was relieved that home was now a bigger place, more welcoming than that old school bus they found themselves in.
And yet he couldn’t even lay the sheets holding in his hand before he crumbled.
Apparently, he could hold out in the underground tunnels of that damn city for days and days in the desperate search for food and with nightmares always on his tail, but some wet shirt that smelled like ash was too much for him.
A part of his brain knew he wasn’t being fair with himself. He did not foresee that memories would return so forcefully. He could not have imagined it. The most prominent part of his brain was undecided whether to feel only anger or disappointment.
It wasn’t his fault. He knew it wasn’t his fault that things had turned out the way they did. But he had the same attempt to stifle the memories when they re-crowded.
He had not been strong enough, no one was strong enough in those days. Not when you had to remember the good things, past things.
He knew he shouldn’t shutdown, that he couldn’t go for this path, the last time he did it had almost cost him everything, his family.
“-yung?” he heard, a muffled cry “what-...” Strong hands were at his sides, searching, for what, he didn’t know. He felt them cup his face, dump and warm. It was an almost comforting feeling. He thought he didn’t want to open his eyes.
“Hyung” the voice was firm “Yoongi hyung, please, talk to me” still, it broke a little at the edges “what happened?” it asked “please, breath” Namjoon pleaded.
He could do that. Breath. In and out. In and out.
“Slower”
He relaxed in those hands. He nudged forward a bit, to make himself more comfortable until Namjoon dropped his hands and helped him to settle better on his shoulder.
He gave him all the time he needed to sort out what to say.
"They smell like ash" he croaked, his throat still closed.
"What?!" was the surprised answer
"The cloths taste like ashes"
"Oh" she heard the puff of Namjoon’s laugh with his whole body, "you noticed it early, we’ve been washing them like that for months. I didn’t think it was so bad."
That wasn’t the point. He didn’t want to say it. He needed it.
"I walked past it, you know, last week" he sighed, defeated. He knew that Nanjoon would not interrupt him with questions before he was finished.
“The laundry room where we met,” he continued, looking straight at the building ahead. Looking into someone’s eyes when you were making such speeches was overrated. He didn’t want to see more despair now. “Or at least what’s left of it.”
“Before, my clothes didn’t smell like ash. Do you remember what they smelled like? I don’t remember it anymore.” he whispered the last part, ashamed.
“Like cotton” a whisper like his supplied after a couple of minutes “you smelled like cotton”
“That was lame” he let a breathy and wet laugh “oh my, why did you told me. I was so lame”
“You get used to it,” Namjoon said to the crown of his head “and, for the record, you are still lame hyung,” he added, gaining a weak swat on his chest.
“Do you think we should talk? Like, of before” he gestured in the air. Namjoon tensed under him. Just for a moment, but he was too close not to notice
“We can if you want”
It wasn’t that simple. “I don’t know if I want to” It was Namjoon turn to laugh. “But I think I need to”, Namjoon nodded, then said, “I think everyone does”
“Sorry for the clothes, by the way. They weren’t supposed to smell like anything, like clean or whatever, Jungkook-ah never make them smell”
“I see… now you need to help me with those”
“Lazy ass- that’s why I came in the first place, you know.”