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Namjoon was a light sleeper. He was used to waking up because of the smallest of sounds, their neighbours slamming a door a little too loud, the sirens and honking that never seems to stop in a city as big as Seoul, the loud music that comes from the fourth floor in the building next to them. So it wasn’t a surprise when he woke up because of a noise in his own apartment.
He listened to the noise come and go, always lurking for when Namjoon’s eyes started to drop to make its comeback. He tried to make sense of the sounds, could almost hear something clinking, something dropping, someone humming, singing. It was very faint, barely recognizable, but he had heard that voice long enough to recognize it anywhere. Jin.
He opened his eyes, and sure enough, the other side of the bed was empty. It wasn’t new so he wasn’t that worried. Seokjin wakes up at odd hours every day. Namjoon got up and stretched, listening to the soft humming. The song was calm, low. He doubted that it was an actual song.
The bedroom was as dark as when he had come back from his shift at the coffee shop, and Namjoon could hear other noises, yes, but for a moment he felt like the only thing that he could hear was Seokjin’s faint voice carried across their apartment and into the quietness of the room.
“What is he doing,” Namjoon murmured as he ruffled his hair. The sounds were coming from the kitchen. Ah, that would explain the smell. The lights were turned on in the kitchen, and he took a second or two to rub his eyes, still heavy with sleep, before looking around. And oh, of course, his boyfriend was as beautiful at whatever ungodly hour it was now as he was at literally every other time of the day. His black hair was tied back to not get in his way, and he was wearing a simple white shirt with a blue apron that had ‘kiss the chef’ on it, and Namjoon was so, so in love.
Seokjin didn’t seem to notice him as he carried on with whatever he was doing (Baking, Namjoon noted). He was mixing what looked like butter and other things that the younger didn’t recognize. The only thing that he was sure of was the strong smell of cinnamon hanging in the air.
And there it was, the song, beautiful in a soothing, warm way, carrying more emotions than a shapeless hum ever could. Namjoon understood that each song, each note, had a story behind it, and he couldn’t help but wonder about this one. About all the ones before it. Seokjin was almost always humming a tune. While trying to study for a final, while turning pages in a book that he was reading but in no way actually focusing on it, while playing a game or cleaning his room or doing the dishes. Or like now, baking a little after midnight.
He cleared his throat to get his hyung’s attention. The last time that Namjoon had startled Seokjin while he was baking, Jin had flung the bowl he was holding straight in his face, covering him in white powder (On the bright side, he smelled like vanilla).
“Hey hyung,” Namjoon said, taking a step closer. Their kitchen was small. They had ended up with bruised legs for weeks until they got used to the small space.
Seokjin’s hands stilled for a second before he looked up. “You have no idea how lucky you are,” He said, a small smile on his face. “Could have ended up with this on your face,” Seokjin tilted the bowl to Namjoon. The mixture looked a little brown. No, Namjoon wouldn’t like that on his face.
“Did I wake you?” Namjoon shrugged. Seokjin went back to humming.
It was only the two of them in the quiet kitchen. The muffled noises of the big city seemed to only add to the feeling of calm and peacefulness settling around them like the first snow of a particularly cold Winter. The smell of cinnamon and the sweet lull of Seokjin’s voice brought a small smile to Namjoon’s face. This. This is all that he could ever want in life.
Waking next to Seokjin every day, hearing his laugh and being the cause behind his smile. Seeing his ears turn red and seeing the blush travel all the way to his chest. Getting to see him at his most vulnerable moments and being allowed to hold him and be with him and whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Holding his hand and kissing his lips and cheeks and every inch of his face, loving him with every breath that he takes and every second that passes.
All in all, just existing with him. Like now, watching fondly as the older swayed a little to the music.
“Don’t you have classes tomorrow? You should sleep, hyung,” Namjoon said, leaning on the counter. “What are you even doing?” He knew that asking the older to sleep was pointless, but he had to at least try to be the voice of reason. They still had six hours until Jin’s first class, so maybe he can get him to sleep for a while.
“Cinnamon rolls." He spared Namjoon a glance, eyes sparkling and mouth twitching in an almost smile, and oh, Namjoon’s poor heart couldn’t deal with that now.
"At three in the morning?"
“I’m almost done,” Seokjin replied, rolling the dough after adding the mixture.
“What were you singing?”
“Hm, nothing. Just humming.”
“You know, one day,” Namjoon started as he moved behind Jin, resting his hands on his waist and his face on his shoulder. “I’ll convince you to record a song for me,” He finished tilting his head and smiling at the older.
“Keep dreaming Joonie.” he laughed as he cut the rolls and placed them in the pan.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.” Seokjin gave him a quick peck, his smile so, so kind.
Namjoon hummed in response as he moved from behind Jin, gathering the dirty dishes and moving them to the sink.
“What are you doing?”
“The dishes,” Namjoon said, rolling his sleeves.
“It’s alright, hyung will do it after I put the rolls in the oven,” Jin said, turning around to face the younger.
“I want to help, hyung.” And seeing him smile was totally worth it. They worked in silence, and soon enough, the rolls were in the oven, and the kitchen bore no sign of an after-midnight baking session.
“What do we do now?” Namjoon asked.
Seokjin just moved behind Namjoon to his phone on the counter. A while later, a soft, soft song filled the kitchen, and Seokjin was setting his phone on the counter and grabbing Namjoon’s hand and pulling him closer.
The older boy leaned in, their lips almost touching. Namjoon’s heart was hammering in his chest. “Now we dance,” Seokjin whispered against his lips. Namjoon felt his smile more than saw it.
And it was a mess. Namjoon stepped on his foot three times, and the both of them almost fell. Seokjin kissed his pouts away and laughed and laughed and laughed. And for a moment, Namjoon’s whole world was this moment here in their kitchen, dancing, hearing the soft tunes and seeing Seokjin’s softer eyes looking at him with so much love.
With his gentle touch on his waist and his hand in Namjoon’s, Seokjin guided them into a steady rhythm, and soon enough he was twirling the younger and catching him and engulfing him in a hug that took his breath away.
They stayed like that for a while longer. Just enjoying the closeness and swaying a little to the music. Namjoon felt warm warm warm, felt like his insides were melting, felt Seokjin’s arms around him, his head resting on his shoulder.
“Tea?” Seokjin raised his head to look him in the eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Tea.” Namjoon nodded, his smile mirroring Seokjin’s. “But I'll make it. You go get changed then we can drink in on the balcony."
"Deal."
Their balcony was small, couldn't even fit two chairs, but they had gotten used to it by now. They sat side to side on the floor with Namjoon resting his head on Seokjin's shoulder, each one holding a drink.
“Chamomile, really?” Jin laughed as he took a sip from the mug. Namjoon hid his face in his shoulder, muttering a small you have classes, hyung.
Seokjin wrapped his arm around him and started stroking his hair, and Namjoon sighed, sinking into the feeling and letting his eyes close for a second. "Don't worry about me, Namjoon-ah."
But how could he not when it was his sweet sweet Seokjin hyung, who always worked hard and pushed himself, who was the first to go help whoever needed help and the last to ask for help himself, who would forget to eat and sleep when he was so engrossed in a project and Namjoon would have to lure him to bed with hugs and kisses.
So yes, he had enough reasons to worry, but instead of saying anything, he put his cup beside him burrowed closer and closer to the older boy, holding onto the thought that Seokjin would tell him before pushing himself to the edge, to his breaking point.
"Joonie?"
"Cold."
Seokjin hummed and continued stroking his hair.
"Don't you have to get the rolls out of the oven?"
"Not for another-" He checked his phone, "fifteen minutes."
"Okay."
And it was at moments like this, when it was just the two of them, when he felt so, so warm in the older's arms, when he could just close his eyes for a while and forget all his deadlines and abandoned essays and worries, that Namjoon felt the safest.
Seokjin beside him smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and love love love and Namjoon was in so deep, but he didn't think that he minds. Not when the older smiled at him that private smile that only a few got to see, not when he looked at him with eyes that hold the stars, the whole universe, not when he kissed him, his lips soft, soft, so soft against his, not when he held his hand and stroked his hair and whispered to him his secrets in the middle of the night.
No Namjoon doesn't mind. Sitting here, resting his head on the older's shoulder and feeling his warmth beside him, Namjoon doesn't think that he would ever mind.