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For once in his life, Yoongi wishes he wasn’t cooped up at home.
He stares at his tv screen, and he can hear the distant shouts of his team warning him through his headset, but he can’t focus on the game for his life. Instead, he’s hyper-aware of how fast his leg is bouncing.
Up.
Down.
Up. Down.
Updownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownup.
He dies—to no surprise—about 3.9 seconds after.
Yoongi sighs in defeat, ripping the headphones off and resigning for the night. He flops back onto his bed, letting the springy mattress cushion his fall with a squeak.
Without the game ringing in his ears, the house feels deafeningly silent. Yoongi’s parents were off attending a wedding outside the city, and his hyung was at college—leaving him all alone.
Maybe if Yoongi were different, he’d have a party. He’d invite all the other loners and sneak something from the liquor cabinet to appease their sadness.
But Yoongi is Yoongi.
So while everyone is off shamelessly grinding on the school dance floor, Yoongi feels all too lonesome in a vacant house; thoughts only of one lanky kid.
His neighbor, his best friend, and probably the love of his life, Kim Namjoon.
Kim Namjoon is the boy who moved in when he was six, and Yoongi was seven.
Kim Namjoon is the boy that—without fail—could make Yoongi laugh in three seconds.
Kim Namjoon is the boy so kind and so beautiful that he deserves to be praised and sung about and screamed about into the night while the moon and stars listened.
He deserves to be loved loudly, but Yoongi has always been too quiet.
Yoongi can’t stop cursing his past self. He really had thought about asking Namjoon to prom. Planned to take him out for ice cream last week and ask, maybe after a walk at the nearby park.
At best, Namjoon would say yes. He’d let Yoongi walk over and give him a corsage and let their parents take awkward pictures of them in front of the house. He knows his mom would cry and pinch his cheeks, trying to find out how her son grew up so fast. He knows he’d be tempted to cry too.
Somewhere in between, maybe Namjoon would only think Yoongi’s asking as a friend. And Yoongi supposes that would still be fine. He’d still have a date with his favorite person. Maybe he’d feel safe enough to confess under the dimmed lights of the basketball court. Maybe not. But he’d still be able to hold Namjoon in his arms, even if it were only for a night.
At worst, Namjoon could have said no. Could’ve broken Yoongi’s heart right then and there, probably with strawberry ice cream staining the corner of his lips. It would hurt; how could a rejection from your first love not? But at least Yoongi would know. At least he’d be given a chance to move on.
The thing is, Yoongi never got to ask.
He waited outside Namjoon’s class, and the younger eventually came out. Namjoon was, of course, the first to finish his calc test, and that was all the more reason to celebrate.
Yoongi remembers feeling extra shy; wondered if his cheeks were pink enough to let Namjoon know that he was nervous.
“Let’s go?” Yoongi asked, making sure that they both had everything before they left for the day.
“Yeah,” Namjoon smiled at him, hair slightly messed up but somehow making him look even more gorgeous.
But right as they walked outside the school doors, a boy in Namjoon’s grade ran up to him.
“Namjoon!” Yejun shouted for his attention as he approached, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to go to prom with me.”
Yoongi remembers the sharp pain of jealousy that stabbed his chest at that moment. He was so close, and here comes someone with a fresh rose and a smile bright like the sun.
Yoongi’s head snapped up at Namjoon, waiting for his reaction. He remembers the way Namjoon’s eyes lit up in disbelief, lips parted in a soft gasp.
“Oh haha,” Namjoon flushed, “I didn’t think anyone would ask.”
Yoongi had to bite his tongue. He wanted to do something. To hold Namjoon’s hand and say, “I was gonna ask you.” But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything but watch as Namjoon said yes.
And so that day, Yoongi still took Namjoon for ice cream. Took him for a walk in the park while they both soaked up the new spring sun. But he did all that while Namjoon was holding on to a rose given to him by someone else.
Now, about two weeks later, Yoongi is basking in his bitterness.
Yoongi heads down to the kitchen to make himself a snack when the doorbell makes him jump.
He cracks the door open tentatively, and there standing in front of him is Namjoon.
Yoongi blinks dumbly, not fully believing the sight in front of him. Before he can open his mouth to say anything, Namjoon lets out a broken “hyung" and Yoongi’s entire body moves on autopilot.
He pulls Namjoon right into his arms and holds him as the younger boy shakes.
“Joon-ah. Hey, it’s okay,” Yoongi tries to make his voice sound light and comforting, but Namjoon only begins to sob more.
Yoongi is desperate to soothe him, but standing at the front door probably isn’t the best place to do this.
Yoongi looks right into Namjoon’s glassy eyes, wanting so desperately to reach out and wipe away his tears, “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”
Namjoon sniffles, but nods and lets Yoongi guide him up to the bedroom even though he’s been here a thousand times before.
Yoongi gestures to the bed first, letting Namjoon get comfortable whichever way he wants.
“Can you uhm...sit back?” Namjoon asks.
Yoongi nods. He fluffs his pillows before laying back, letting Namjoon fit into the new space Yoongi made between his legs. It’s a bit comical with Namjoon in his full suit, legs stretched out against the whole length of the bed with Yoongi’s smaller frame curled around his back, but Yoongi knows why Namjoon wanted to sit like this.
Namjoon doesn’t want Yoongi to see him cry.
He simply hooks his chin onto Namjoon’s shoulder. “You wanna tell me what happened, Namjoonie?”
He feels Namjoon pause before melting further into his embrace. “I got stood up.”
“What?” Yoongi mutters in disbelief.
“Yeah, I don’t know what happened. I was waiting and waiting, and I really thought Yejun was just running rate, you know? Maybe something happened, or he had some clothing mishap. But then I checked snapchat and—” Namjoon can’t even finish his sentence because he chokes on a second wave of tears.
Yoongi just wraps his arms tighter around him. “Hey, hey, Joon-ah. He’s an asshole that doesn’t deserve you, especially not your tears.”
This time Yoongi doesn’t hesitate. After a bit of adjustment, he brings a hand up to Namjoon’s face and uses his thumb to delicately brush away the teardrops that rain down like jagged glass. It hurts to see and even more to touch— to physically feel proof of Namjoon’s pain.
He doesn’t miss how a shiver snakes its way down Namjoon’s spine, or the way Namjoon holds his breath like he’s afraid of moving.
“Hyung,” Namjoon whispers, voice barely audible despite the state of emptiness the house is in.
“Mm?” Yoongi makes a small noise in question.
“How come you didn’t go tonight? It’s your senior year.”
Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek, trying to find the best way to answer the question.
“I only had one person in mind, but someone asked them before I could.”
That seems to quell Namjoon’s curiosity, at least for now. He gently pulls out of Yoongi’s embrace and leaves the room to go wash his face.
A thought pops into Yoongi’s mind, but he only has about a minute or two before Namjoon comes back. His brain sends off warning signals that this could go horribly, terribly wrong, but he works too fast to second guess himself. He takes the lamp from his desk and props it up on his bookshelf, letting it cast a dim spotlight on the ground. He takes the only blazer he has — oversized and over-starched — and throws it on right over his t-shirt and basketball shorts. Yoongi could try to change into the matching pants, but he doesn’t want to risk Namjoon coming back with his shorts around his ankles.
Once he hears the door open, Yoongi plays a random slow song from his phone before throwing it on his bed.
“May I have this dance?” He asks with a quiver, extending a hand out to Namjoon, whose eyes are still scanning the room to see if anything else has changed. (It hasn’t.)
Namjoon does a terrible job trying to keep his laughter in as he takes Yoongi’s hand, but not moving any closer.
“Hyung, what is this?” He questions, a giggle bursting into the tone of his voice.
“I know it’s not The Secret Garden or whatever the fuck the theme was this year, but you deserve to have at least one dance tonight. Besides, it’s my last year, like you said. So, will you dance with hyung?” Yoongi shakes his head, amending his request, “Will you dance with me?”
Without a word, Namjoon takes Yoongi’s other hand and wraps both around his waist. The weight of Namjoon’s arms rests on his shoulders, and they both sway to the music. Yoongi can barely hear the song over the beating of his heart, so he’s thankful for the simple back-and-forth motion.
Yoongi looks up, taking in how the warm glow of the lamp shines on Namjoon. He looks like an angel, and Yoongi smiles at how fitting it is.
When the song ultimately ends, Namjoon slows their movements to a stop but doesn’t make a move to break apart. He unloops one hand to brush away the hair that falls into Yoongi’s eyes with a gentle sweep.
“Hyung, who was it?” Namjoon asks with a glint in his eyes like he already knows the answer.
And so Yoongi breathes out, “You.”
“Me?”
“It’s always been you, Joon-ah,” Yoongi admits, feeling stripped bare as his longest-lasting secret is now put out into the world.
But then Namjoon smiles.
He smiles, teeth flashing bright white between his plush lips before pulling Yoongi closer until they’re (mostly) chest-to-chest.
He places the softest kiss at the top of Yoongi’s head, and Yoongi can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “It’s always been you too.”
Even though neither one of them asks, they both begin slow dancing once more. And while they swing and sway, Yoongi comes to reconsider a few things.
His neighbor, his best friend, and most definitely the love of his life, is Kim Namjoon.
Kim Namjoon is the boy who moved in when he was six, and Yoongi was seven.
Kim Namjoon is the boy that—without fail—could make Yoongi laugh in three seconds.
Kim Namjoon is the boy that deserves to be loved loudly. And here in his room, without a single word or music to fill the silence, Yoongi is the loudest he’s ever been.