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Jungkook’s least favorite part of the morning is waking up. He’s usually living his best life walking on clouds or soaring through the sky in his dreams, and it’s always the reality of life that sends him crashing to the ground.
He’s used to waking up to his alarm or even to one of his hyungs gently shaking him awake (Yoongi), jumping on top of him (Seokjin), or rustling the bed as they join him for another few minutes of sleep (Taehyung).
But this? Someone has their arms around him, nosing their face into Jungkook’s neck, and he knows this isn’t any of his hyungs. He hasn’t had a drop to drink in weeks; hasn’t picked up in even longer.
This happens in his dreams sometimes, especially in the one from last night, and Jungkook can still feel the ghost of Namjoon’s arms around him. Wishes it really was the man himself.
But this is real life and this isn’t Namjoon, can’t be Namjoon. Namjoon’s body, as fit as he is now, can’t compare to the thick muscle of this man’s chest or the huge biceps that Jungkook is only just starting to see out of the corner of his eye. He looks down to find a birthmark on this man’s hand, similar to the one he and Namjoon share, and is left wracking his mind for who this could be.
It begs the question: who the hell is touching him so intimately this early in the morning?
Jungkook clears his throat and tries to wiggle around in this man’s grip, but it only serves to make him squeeze Jungkook even closer. He murmurs and groans something unintelligible, and Jungkook’s heart stops.
Because that—that’s Namjoon’s voice.
No doubt about it, Jungkook’s heard Namjoon wake up countless times over the years, and nothing will send butterflies flapping their wings through Jungkook’s chest faster than Namjoon’s deep, rumbly morning voice. This is it. This is Namjoon.
“Hyung?” Jungkook asks shyly, because there’s no reason for Namjoon to be in his bed, no reason for him to be pressed up against Jungkook like this. Namjoon doesn’t even seek out physical touch from his friends that often; whatever this is, it’s completely new.
“Mmph,” the man responds, shifting his hips closer to Jungkook, who now realizes with a start that he’s hard. Fuck. Nowhere in his time as a trainee did any of his mentors offer advice on what to do if his leader suddenly ended up in his bed one morning sporting an erection.
“You haven’t called me that in years, babe,” the voice says after a moment, and Jungkook startles once the words make sense in his brain.
Babe. Namjoon just called him babe.
Jungkook pinches himself once, twice, three times, and finds, with some disappointment, that he’s awake. That all of this is real. He turns in Namjoon’s grip and vaguely realizes his room is the same as it’s always been. Everything is the same, except for Namjoon.
He can’t help it. He screams when he sees who’s been draped over him all morning.
This isn’t the Namjoon he knows at all.
This Namjoon has bright blue hair with huge biceps and a rock solid chest that could probably rival Park Seojoon’s.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Let me get this straight, this is 2017?” Namjoon asks when he’s finally come to. It seems his morning wood has deflated for now given the shock of the circumstances, and Jungkook can’t decide if he’s relieved or disappointed.
“Yeah?” Jungkook doesn’t understand how he’s so nonchalant about all this. If he’d accidentally time traveled in his sleep, he thinks he’d be having a complete meltdown by now. He isn’t even the one in the wrong time, but he feels he might be close to one.
“I don’t know why I said that. There’s nothing remotely straight about me,” Namjoon quips, winking in Jungkook’s direction.
Maybe time travel isn’t the extent of these circumstances. Maybe this Namjoon is from a different universe entirely.
Jungkook rolls his eyes and sips at his own coffee. Why did Yoongi and Seokjin decide that today of all days was the time to head off for an early morning fishing trip? Why did Hoseok and Taehyung have to go on a last minute hiking trip to Sokcho now? The questions never end in this house.
Where the fuck is Jimin? Jungkook might even ask himself, but he’s learned the hard way not to ask questions when it came to this hyung’s whereabouts.
“What time are you from?” he asks instead.
Namjoon stretches out his arms and leans back in his chair. Jungkook can’t get over how good he looks with blue hair. Paired with the way it’s mussed with sleep, he somehow looks even better than Jungkook ever could’ve imagined him to.
Jungkook should know better. Namjoon always exceeds expectations.
“2020,” Blue-haired Namjoon says easily. “I already know everyone’s gone for the day so it’s just me and you. Sucks, huh?”
Jungkook flushes. He can think of worse ways he could be spending his day than with a gorgeous blue-haired Namjoon who seemingly can’t get enough of Jungkook’s attention. A Namjoon who calls him babe and seems to know how to move around him as if they’re two planets in motion, always in flux.
“Right. I forget how shy you were at this age.”
If he looked into a mirror right about now, Jungkook knows he’d be as red as gochujang with how flushed he must be. This Namjoon is so different but so fundamentally similar to his Namjoon that Jungkook doesn’t know what to expect anymore. Loose, comfortable, teasing. So painfully intimate. Jungkook wants this kind of dynamic with his Namjoon so badly.
“I’m only three years younger than the me that you know in the future,” Jungkook retorts.
“That’s right,” Namjoon agrees, leaning in to squeeze Jungkook’s cheek. “You’re still our baby, though. Our forever little one.”
Something about the way Namjoon says it feels familiar, reminding Jungkook of the fact that he’d woken up to Namjoon’s arms around him this morning. That he’d called him babe.
“So, um,” Jungkook starts, because no matter how he looks at it, there’s no good way to approach this. No tangible way of asking his crush, the love of his life, if they’re together in the future. If the reason Namjoon keeps pressing gentle fingers into the dip of his waist is because where he’s from, they’re in love. That Jungkook’s feelings for him are finally reciprocated.
Namjoon clears his throat, and he must sense the shift in Jungkook’s tone because he suddenly grows serious. He swirls his coffee around in the mug Jungkook’s provided him with, the green one with the hand-painted bees that Namjoon himself had brought home just a few weeks ago.
“I can’t answer anything that might…well, disrupt the fabric of time and space while I’m here,” he says carefully, punctuated by vague gestures to the air around him.
“You don’t trust me,” Jungkook can’t help but say. His Namjoon won’t remember this. His Namjoon won’t even know until three years from now, when an older Jungkook might have something smarter to say.
The older man is quick to shake his head and Jungkook is taken aback by how beautiful he is, how beautiful he’s always been. Namjoon’s hair is this gorgeous shock of bright blue, and he thinks it has to have been years since he’s seen it anywhere near this color.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. Never that, I promise.” Namjoon pauses and lifts a finger to stroke against his chin. He takes his time to consider his words, and while Jungkook has always respected that about him, it grates on him the tiniest bit now when he still has so many questions. “This is selfish of me and I know it, but I don’t want anything I say now to change my life now. I love it too much.”
Jungkook hears everything Namjoon is trying to hint at, and it frankly takes him aback to realize that he himself plays some key role in Namjoon’s future. He holds enough power somehow that a mere decision of his could derail this perfect life that Namjoon’s built up for himself.
He wants to know more.
“Tell me something. Anything.”
Namjoon’s answering smile is immediate. “You finally get a perm. I’m not going to say when or how or even what you look like with it, but I for one, think it’s gorgeous. Your hair’s always been so soft, you know that Kook?”
“Does future me know you feel that way?”
A smirk appears on Namjoon’s face and Jungkook wants to kiss it away. He wonders if 24 year old Jungkook has the luxury, the privilege, the honor of doing so. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Jungkook nods, and he knows the way he so vigorously bobs his head completely gives him away. He really, really does.
Lately it’s felt a lot like something was finally going to happen between him and Namjoon. Lingering glances from across the room, gentle touches initiated by Namjoon, little jokes between just the two of them that feel like they toe that line between teasing and flirting.
Jungkook’s been waiting for the right time to confess, hoping that maybe because he’s basically been professing his love for Namjoon near constantly over the past few years, Namjoon would be the one to take the plunge this time. All Jungkook has done for the past four, five, six years has been walk around with a giant placard talking about how much he loves Kim Namjoon.
He hopes Namjoon, his Namjoon, wherever he is, knows.
“He knows. You know,” Namjoon finally replies, and there’s an honesty and earnestness in his eyes that Jungkook can’t take his eyes off of. It reminds him of the time Namjoon had played parts of mono. for him before its release, reminds him of the first time Namjoon had played Euphoria for him and told Jungkook it was for him.
“Okay,” Jungkook replies, because really, that’s all he needs to know. It’s enough that somewhere in the future, an older Jeon Jungkook is well aware of just how much Kim Namjoon loves him. There’s something to hope for if this possibility exists.
Loving Namjoon has never been for naught, but the reassurance that this might be the universe in which they find their way to each other is enough for Jungkook today.
So he puts on his bravest face and asks, “Wanna play some Maple Story?”
“Hi,” is the first thing his Namjoon greets him with when he returns. It’s punctuated with a soft set of knocks on Jungkook’s already open door and accompanied with the appearance of a slightly smaller, slightly thinner Kim Namjoon.
Hours have passed since Jungkook had woken up to find older Namjoon missing from his bed, and Jungkook finds he misses the older man. He can’t wait to see him again in a few years.
“Hi,” Jungkook replies. He doesn’t know how much this Namjoon knows, if it’s okay to touch him after a day spent in bed trading kisses with the older version of him. If Jungkook is supposed to feel guilty about that, he isn’t. Any Namjoon is his Namjoon. Every Namjoon is the Namjoon he loves.
He wonders where this Namjoon went, who he met, what he did, the scents he encountered and how they all made him feel. Jungkook wants to know it all.
“Is it okay to sit?” Namjoon asks, gesturing to Jungkook’s bed.
Jungkook nods, scooting his chair closer as Namjoon chooses the spot closest to Jungkook. Namjoon stretches out his legs, so Jungkook takes the opportunity to extend his right back, feeling bold enough to kick at Namjoon’s bare feet with his own socked ones.
When Jungkook musters the courage to look at him, he finds that Namjoon is smiling down at their feet. “Are those the socks I bought you a few years ago?”
Blood rushes to Jungkook’s cheeks and he clears his throat to hide his surprise at the sudden question. “Yeah, hyung, they are.”
The little sunflowers printed all over the white socks have faded over time, but the fringe of the doily socks remain.
“I saw these and they reminded me of you,” Namjoon had said that evening years ago before handing Jungkook a black plastic bag full of random pairs covered in flowers and stars and everything in between. They were little thousand-won pairs from the market they really couldn’t afford at the time, so Jungkook had taken the gift to heart. But these, the socks with the sunflowers on them, had always been Jungkook’s favorite, accompanied with Namjoon admitting that they were his favorite, too.
“You’re like sunshine, Jungkook-ah. You make flowers grow,” he’d said, and Jungkook had treasured it, let it water the seeds that had embedded themselves so deep within his heart years ago.
“You’re like sunshine, hyung,” Jungkook says now. “You make flowers grow.”
It’s like the heavy atmosphere has broken, all the questions of how was your time with future me, where do we go from here laid to rest for the time being.
“You remember that.”
Jungkook nods. “Of course I do. I remember everything about you.”
Namjoon laughs softly to himself. “You know, older you said that word for word when I was with him today.”
There’s nothing Jungkook can say to show Namjoon how much he means every single word.
“It was nice,” Namjoon trails off. “It was nice being there. With you.”
And it feels like an opening, so Jungkook takes it for all it’s worth.
“I know we’re together, hyung,” Jungkook says, and his voice sounds small even to his own ears.
Namjoon immediately lifts his head, eyes flitting all over Jungkook’s face as he tries to gauge his reaction.
“Did older me tell you that?” he asks carefully, and Namjoon’s hand curls around his own knee, tight with tension.
Jungkook shakes his head and holds back a laugh. “Older you didn’t have to tell me anything. He tried so hard not to.”
“Sounds like me,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook can hear the relief that floods his voice.
And because Jungkook has to ask: “How did you know?”
“Know what?” His hand is soft and so, so warm where it sits in Jungkook’s. Jungkook wants to rest in this moment forever.
“Know that we were together,” Jungkook clarifies, and it feels like summer with the way his lips come alive with the words, as if he’s sipping on rice punch in the heat of the warm, warm sun.
Namjoon laughs, something full and bodied and lovely that nests itself right between Jungkook’s ribs.
“Older you didn’t notice older me had left. You called me babe while washing the dishes before you turned and realized I wasn’t him.”
God, that’s the most Jungkook thing he’s ever heard. And he himself is Jeon Jungkook.
“Really? And you just went along with it? I just went along with it?”
Namjoon shrugs. “You pinched my cheek and said it was payback for when future me refused to tell you anything. Then you sat me down and made me pollack soup because I guess older me had told him beforehand that he remembered having it, and nothing could get in the way of the space-time continuum.”
Jungkook laughs. He has no idea what any of that means, but it sounds exactly like something older (and current) Namjoon would say. Jungkook makes a mental note to remember one day in the future that when encountering a time traveling Namjoon, he needs to make pollack soup.
So they do remember everything from this brief blip in the fabric of time and space. Jungkook had hoped he wouldn’t one day wake up to realize he’d magically forgotten everything that had happened. Had hoped that Namjoon, at least, would remember.
And then, hesitantly, as if he can’t tell if he’s allowed to say it or not, Namjoon whispers, “You had a ring on.”
Oh.
A ring.
Jungkook had a ring on.
It shouldn’t be a big deal considering the fact that all seven of them wear rings all the time, but there’s a different weight and meaning that sits behind Namjoon’s words.
“Oh.”
Namjoon must read his mind then, because he’s quick to clarify. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t one of the rings from any of those boxes the stylist noonas have. Your ring was really simple? A thin gold band that you told me was engraved with your name and, uh. And someone else’s.”
Guilt colors Namjoon’s expression, but when Jungkook thinks about it, it all checks out. Jungkook has never told anyone this before, but he’s long decided that any wedding band of his will be simple, a far cry from the intricate and flashy designs he’s used to wearing now. Where everything in their lives often becomes too much, he needs something simple to stand out against the backdrop of everything else.
“Hey, hyung. It’s okay. You don’t have to freak out, it’s not a big deal.”
Namjoon’s answering look is hesitant. “Yeah? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you with any of that.” He scratches his head and looks down again. Jungkook never wants him to feel embarrassed in front of him ever again.
He shrugs, trying to make it seem a little less damning and a little more nonchalant. “You’re not pressuring me when those are all things I’ve considered before. And you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me when it’s—well, when it’s about us.”
Just like that, they’ve crossed the line from a you and me to an us. Jungkook has been waiting so long to exhale that now that this moment is here, he can’t wait to breathe in all the excitement and life that he now knows await on the other side.
A ring. Fuck. Jungkook has a ring.
“Us?”
“Us,” Jungkook confirms. “You and me.”
“You and me.”
Namjoon finally returns Jungkook’s gaze, and where there was trepidation before, Jungkook thinks it’s reduced to a mere nervousness that can easily be replaced with hope. Excitement. The promise of more to come.
“I like you, Jungkook-ah,” and there are no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. It’s reassuring in the way Namjoon has always been standing in front of Jungkook, but this time Jungkook’s view isn’t just of Namjoon’s back.
This time he gets to see , and he wants to stand to the occasion. Jungkook wants to be the man Namjoon has always deserved to be with. It might’ve taken a little while, but he’s here now. And this is where he’ll continue to be for years to come.
“I like you too, hyung. So much.”
The smile that takes over Namjoon’s face is blinding, dimples on full display.
“I’m not saying this just because you said it first, or because an older you suddenly visited me today and kissed me.”
Namjoon’s eyes widen at the admission, but Jungkook just continues.
“I’m telling you I like you because it’s gotten to the point where every moment that you don’t know the truth feels like a moment I’m not living my life to the fullest. I like you because you’re you, the 24 year old Kim Namjoon who makes me feel safe and protected when really, nothing’s safe about our lives anymore. Whenever you appear it’s like something in me just settles and thinks, ah, I can be myself again.
“I like you because you’re kind, you’re thoughtful, and sometimes you’re so stupidly funny it makes me want to cry. I like you because you change my life for the better every single day—it didn’t stop when I joined the company, it just got bigger and bigger and bigger. I like you because you bring out the best in me.”
Jungkook just barely resists the urge to start belting out the chorus of Best of Me, because this is neither the time nor place for such shenanigans. Again, it seems as though Namjoon’s read his mind because he starts humming the melody to himself. So Jungkook joins along and they sing together, and maybe Namjoon’s eyes are red with tears, but Jungkook doesn’t say anything.
He just keeps singing. Just keeps hoping and praying and thanking the stars above that he gets to continue loving this man for years to come.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you this, but I have to tell you.”
Jungkook’s heart thrums with anticipation. Love confessions aside, he doesn’t know what else could be so important that it warrants such an introduction.
“Yeah?”
“You get a perm in the future,” Namjoon says, and it takes Jungkook by surprise to hear how breathless it is. How clear and obvious Namjoon’s desire for him is. “And it looks perfect and lovely because you’re perfect and lovely.”
It makes Jungkook laugh to hear nearly the same words older Namjoon had left him with echoed from the lips of his younger Namjoon. He supposes every Namjoon could be considered his now, but he can’t tell if there’s one he prefers. The love that simmers deep in his heart is reserved for every single version of Namjoon, and while he might be biased towards the ones with lilac hair because he’s weak, he thinks there’s something to be said for the one who belongs with him now.
The Namjoon that had dropped into Jungkook’s life out of the blue had three years to love Jungkook, three years of being with him to hone in and sharpen the words that would affect Jungkook most. This Namjoon? He’s only at the start.
“Your hair is really soft, Kook,” he continues. It’s still hesitant in a way that betrays that maybe Namjoon feels just as overwhelmed and out of his depth as Jungkook does.
They like each other, love each other, are maybe in love with each other, too, but there’s still an awkwardness that underlines just how loose-limbed and confident older Namjoon had been with almost three years of a relationship under his belt. He’d touched Jungkook like it was second nature, and Jungkook is trying his best to keep from screaming at the fact that this Namjoon’s arm is resting over his shoulders.
Jungkook can’t wait to get there one day. But he’s also so excited to learn what it means to be in a relationship with Namjoon.
So he fits himself a little closer against Namjoon, pressing his shoulder into his armpit and resting his head against his chest. The older man opens easily to allow for the movement, shifting to run his hand up and down Jungkook’s back in comforting motions.
“Hi,” he says as he turns to look down at Jungkook once again.
“Hi,” Jungkook parrots back. “Can I kiss you?”
The way Namjoon bites his lip and nods catches Jungkook off guard, and he huffs out a laugh in his surprise. Namjoon opens his mouth and is just about to say something when Jungkook’s brain finally reboots. He surges forward to press his lips against Namjoon’s, and doesn’t realize until it’s too late that it was with too much potential or kinetic energy—he doesn’t remember the difference between the two—because there’s the distinct thud of Namjoon’s head hitting the wall.
Jungkook pulls way sheepishly.
“That was a terrible first kiss,” Namjoon notes with a laugh. “I thought older me would’ve taught you better. Shall we try that again?”
Never one to be outdone, Jungkook doesn’t even dignify him with a response, just leans in close enough that his eyelashes trail over Namjoon’s skin as he peppers kisses onto Namjoon’s nose, his forehead, his cheeks, a series of them in quick succession down the line of Namjoon’s jaw. Two loud kisses for the sweet dimples that inspire dreams and fantasies alike.
An insistent hand cups itself at the nape of Jungkook’s neck and Jungkook pauses his ministrations to gaze upon the wonder that is Kim Namjoon in the flesh. There’s nothing hesitant in his eyes now, a welcome change from the Namjoon that sat across from him a mere half hour ago.
Just a whole lot of confidence. Just a little bit of mirth. Just enough hope.
When Namjoon leans in to plant a kiss on Jungkook’s waiting lips, Jungkook isn’t bemoaning all the years they could’ve spent kissing rather than pining. When Namjoon licks at Jungkook’s lower lip to get him to open up, Jungkook isn’t thinking about how Namjoon tastes like the cherry chapstick they always share onstage. When Namjoon’s tongue meets his own for the very first time, Jungkook isn’t thinking about older Namjoon, not at all.
Jungkook is thinking about Namjoon all around him, encompassing him like a house.
He wants to make it a home.