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It had been a gruelling day at the studio and Namjoon was exhausted . It’s not that anything went wrong per se, but the melodies and lyrics that had sounded so fluid and perfect in his head just wouldn’t translate on to paper and it left Namjoon frustrated beyond belief.
He knows that days like this are inevitable. Days where even music, his most stable & loving companion for the last decade of his life, would flee temporarily, rendering him unable to produce even a single note. Realistically, he understands that he isn’t a machine and that he couldn’t possibly churn out song after song, as he had been doing for the last few months, in preparation for his latest mixtape.
He wasn’t a newbie by any means, and he was cognisant of the fact that life, much like the waves at sea, ebbed and flowed. And still, when it came down to it, it left Namjoon doubting his skill and his abilities.
He sits in his studio, home to some of his biggest successes, and feels an unpleasant feeling churning in his gut. Feelings that he foolishly thought he would no longer be able to feel; ones of inadequacy, ones of failure, ones of fear . Fear so potent and overwhelming, it leaves him paralysed, unable to move past it. It’s these feelings that course through him now, running rampant inside his chest, making it feel tight and suddenly, Namjoon’s finding it harder to breathe. He puts his head in his hands, his fingers clutching on desperately to strands of his hair, and tries to take deep breaths, just as his therapist had taught him.
“It’s okay,” he tells himself, “one bad day doesn’t define you, Namjoon”. He repeats the words over and over to himself, and keeps taking stilted breaths, until he finally begins to feel the pressing weight on his chest slowly release itself and his breathing slowly returns to normal.
He lifts his head out of his hands and looks at the screen in front of him. In the time that he had taken bringing himself back to himself, his laptop had gone to sleep and his screensavers were fading in and out. The one currently on display was of him and Yoongi.
It was a blurry selfie, taken after a night out when they’d had something to celebrate. Yoongi had just released his own mixtape and quite rapidly become the talk of the town as he officially managed to break into the very industry that had tried to keep him on his knees for so long. They had been ecstatic , finally feeling like their big, hungry dreams were all going to come to fruition, like nothing could stop them. The picture itself was taken by Namjoon, wanting to document himself with the Man of the Hour, because “ hey, I need proof that I knew you before you were a superstar, hyung! ”
Yoongi had looked at him then, eyes a little droopy from how exhausted he was and from all the drinking they’d done, but still fond, fond, fond . He smiled his special smile, the one that Namjoon always likened to a sunrise; the most delicate movement of his lips, like the clouds giving way, and opening up to reveal his teeth and gums, like the sun finally making itself known and lighting up the entire horizon. It made Yoongi look so beautiful and adorable and it made Namjoon’s heart race a little faster, even then. Namjoon wasted no time and quickly captured the moment.
“ Before we were superstars, Joon-ah ”, Yoongi had said, still smiling, “ take this for when the two of us are famous and we need a reminder of where all of this began .”
Now, Namjoon looks at the picture and smiles a small smile. Yoongi was right, even then. It was hard, sometimes, for Namjoon to see how far they had come. Together, in the last few years, the two of them had taken over the industry by storm; both individually and as a unit. They were the undefeatable duo, the solid, unbreakable team that had steadily worked their way up the ranks, releasing an album together and soon after, secured producing gigs at a reputable entertainment company.
Now, all these years later, the two of them were magnates in their field and were a formidable team whose success had rocked the entire music and entertainment industry, not just in South Korea, but also caused ripples in international markets too.
To say that there was still a lot of pressure on them, perhaps even more so than before, would be an understatement. Back then, they’d wanted to prove themselves, to show that they could make music in their own unique style and they’d shout it at the top of their lungs to make people listen, if they had to. They’d had an insatiable hunger, back then, to show people that two ordinary, yet ambitious boys could break into an industry that was reluctant to accept any variation from the norm. They’d had an unquenchable thirst to break down stereotypes, and most importantly, to break free of the shackles that society constantly tried to impose on them in an effort to tame them.
Now, however, they’d achieved all of that, and more. Beyond even their own wildest dreams, they’d found success like no other. They found an audience who was clamouring to hear what they had to say. They had laid their souls bare and let people make of it whatever they wanted. And it had paid off. But, still, there was a pressure to maintain that. To bravely ride the tides of change, whilst ensuring the music they were putting out still stuck true to their humble roots. To show people that they were not a passing trend, but that they had cemented their positions and they were here to stay .
And to do that, Namjoon needed to get out of this rut he’d found himself in. This was supposed to be his second mixtape and while his first was steeped in affirming his identity as a rapper, reflecting on his anger; at both society and himself, his doubts and his insecurities about his place in the world and the industry, this one was supposed to reflect his growth. How he has mellowed over the years, and how he has settled into his bones and embraced his loneliness, his despair and taken them in his stride. However, no matter how hard he tried, he was struggling and it was driving him berserk.
The sudden sound of his phone ringing cuts sharply through Namjoon’s reverie. He looks down to his desk where his phone lies, and sees his hyung’s face staring right back at him. As if he’d known . With a faint smile on his face, he picks up.
“ Hey. Joon-ah, are you still at the studio? ” comes Yoongi’s deep voice, a little crackly thanks to the temperamental signal in the studio.
“Hey hyung,” Namjoon responds, already feeling the tension that had mounted up on his shoulders begin to loosen. “Yeah, I’m still here. Not sure why though; it’s not exactly like I’m making any progress at all.” He huffs derisively.
There’s a short pause on the line and Namjoon knows that Yoongi knows . They’ve been with each other for far too long for him to not pick up on the signs. Yoongi knows that he’s too stuck in his head, that today is just one of those days where every little task feels more than a little overwhelming and that no matter what he achieves, he won’t feel like any of it is enough . Knows that although he won’t ask for it outright, Namjoon desperately needs to be comforted.
So, in that low, steady and measured voice of his that Namjoon is convinced was divinely designed to be innately comforting, he says, “ come home, Joon-ah .”
And what is Namjoon to do but listen to his hyung?
“I’m on my way, hyung. Wait for me, please.”
“ Always, Joon-ah .”
He puts the phone down and quickly starts collecting his things. He unplugs his laptop and puts it haphazardly into his bag, then gets up and puts on his coat and picks up his umbrella. He locks up the studio and hurriedly makes his way out of the company building.
Immediately after stepping outside, he is accosted by rain. He’d chosen to walk to work due to it being a bright morning and forgoing his bike, but he can’t find it in himself to regret his decision, even though it’s pouring down right now. Opening up his umbrella, he starts his journey home and to distract him from his awful day, he thinks of the rain.
To Namjoon, rain had always been a source of solace. There was some comfort to be found in the rhythmic sound of the rain pattering down on to the earth, invading every nook and cranny. Seoul was a city where everything was fast paced; things moved at the speed of light here, and if you couldn’t keep up, you’d undoubtedly, and cruelly, be left behind.
On days like today, especially, Namjoon feels like he was being left far, far behind. Like there was lead in his legs, rendering him sluggish and every step he took would immediately sap all the energy out of him and no matter how hard he tried, he simply would not be able to catch up. But on days like today, where the thick, gloomy, grey clouds cast a shadow over the city, where the rain is persistent and continuous, when it feels like the world is submerged into a muffled bubble, it feels like Namjoon could perhaps have a chance. As if he, along with the whole world, could stop running for a while, and come to a shuddering stop, just to take a much needed breath.
And, in many ways, the rain has been a friend to Namjoon, too. When his brain often feels too loud, with all types of different thoughts and emotions and melodies clanging around discordantly inside him, Namjoon goes on walks. The quicker he walks, the more he feels like his brain is rearranging itself to be a little less loud, a little less harsh, and a little less cruel . But his most preferred walks were on the days when it rains. When his heart can’t hold in the pain, and all the heavy, roiling emotions inside, he feels his inner turmoil reflected in the steady pouring, as if the skies themselves could see the burden on his poor heart and they cry along with him in a melody that makes everything seem andante. Rain, along with his music, was his constant and it was his comfort.
And when he gives it thought, he understands how his Yoongi hyung, too, is very much the same. When he thinks back on it, their relationship was an element that had somehow weathered the push and pull of time. When they’d first met each other on the underground scene, the two were fierce rivals, and each desperately wanted to get the upper hand on the other. They’d spend countless hours perfecting and polishing their raps, adjusting their flows and techniques to do just that.
However, they’d found out quite quickly that both of them were evenly matched. Soon, their petty squabbles and indirect taunts launched across the stage through rapid syllables spat at each other menacingly turned into begrudging acknowledgment of the other’s skills; into Yoongi asking Namjoon bashfully if he could buy him a drink one night and that turning into a routine of grabbing celebratory drinks after each performance; into detailed and insightful conversations about music and life and their deepest dreams and desires, that had them realising they were far more alike than they’d initially thought; into heated debates slowly mellowing out into friendly and harmless banter that both of them thoroughly enjoyed; into passionate kisses in the dark alleyway behind their regular club evolving into quiet, peaceful domesticity and lingering touches and morning cuddles and sharing everything together; their clothes, their music, their home, their lives .
Just the mere thought of getting back to their apartment and being able to see his hyung, hug him, hold him, kiss him, has Namjoon quickening his steps and hurriedly decreasing the distance between himself and his safe haven.
Finally, finally , Namjoon is home. He shakes off the umbrella and wipes his shoes on the welcome mat outside. Punching in the code quickly to open the door, he steps into the apartment and methodically puts his umbrella by the stand in the corner, takes off his coat to hang on the coat rack and crouches down to untie his shoes. Routine . That’s what he needs to ground himself to the present. One step in front of the other .
Before he’s able to get up, though, he’s assailed by a blur of brown fluff and, suddenly, he has an armful of an overly excited, curly poodle.
“Ah, Holly-yah”, Namjoon coos softly, “aren't you a sight for sore eyes?” And immediately, he hugs the small dog close to his chest and begins to pet him behind his ears, a gentle smile on the man’s face at the warmth emanating from the little body and the tail wagging excitedly behind him.
“Missed him, did you?” Says a deep voice from above Namjoon and when he looks up, he feels all of his worries, all of his fears, taking a back seat.
“ Hyung ,” he breathes out. A sigh of relief.
“Come here, Joon-ah,” Yoongi demands in that soft, kind tone of his, and stands with his arms wide open, looking as cute and beautiful and inviting as ever, with his oversized sweatshirt and shorts. Gently placing Holly on the floor and kicking off the last shoe, Namjoon straightens up and walks the few short steps over to his hyung and immediately fits himself against him, and he shudders with relief. He clings on to the back of Yoongi’s jumper tightly and he has to bend down a little, but he burrows his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of his spicy cologne and a scent that is so uniquely Yoongi and one that is so familiar to Namjoon, every muscle instantly loosens and relaxes and his mind and his heart immediately knows; he’s home .
“Yah, Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi grumbles in that special way of his where it’s clear he’s not really bothered at all, “You haven’t even dried off properly from the rain and now you’re getting me all wet too!” And still, Namjoon feels Yoongi clinging on to the back of his shirt tighter, feels him pulling Namjoon even closer, as if he knows this is exactly what he needs. Comfort without the words .
Letting out a watery chuckle into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, Namjoon releases the fabric of Yoongi’s sweatshirt and makes to move away, but is fiercely pulled back into the embrace by Yoongi.
“Don’t you dare let go of me right now, Joon-ah, I’m making up for all the cuddles you didn’t give me this morning”, he grouses, and who is Namjoon to refuse Yoongi hyung his cuddles? And so he clings on, tightly.
Slowly, steadily, the tendrils of doubt and of being an imposter and of not being good enough begin to release their nefarious hold on his heart and mind, replacing them instead with the feeling of gentle comfort, of peace. Here, in the arms of his sweet and soft Yoongi hyung, he feels like he can shrug this bad day off and start again tomorrow, anew.
The sound of tiny, skittering nails along the floor disturbs their bubble of peace, and before they know it, Holly is yipping by their heels, demanding attention.
“Looks like the baby needs us, huh?” chuckles Namjoon, making Yoongi huff out a laugh.
Taking one last, deep breath, he slowly begins to extricate himself from his hyung’s hold, despite never wanting to let go of this precious moment.
He looks down at his hyung, the love of his life, the man he respects more than anyone else, and sees only kind acceptance, and gentle understanding on his face, along with a small smile. Fondness bubbles up within him and before he can control himself, he’s reaching down, cupping Yoongi’s cheeks and kissing him squarely on his forehead.
“What was that for?” Yoongi asks cheekily, his gummy smile making an appearance, and setting Namjoon’s heart on fire.
“Because I missed you today,” he says simply, as he slowly moves down and places soft kisses along the delicate curve of Yoongi’s nose, making the elder scrunch up his nose.
“Have I ever told you just how pretty I think you are, hyung?” Namjoon whispers along Yoongi’s puffed cheeks, causing the elder to go pink at the blatant compliment. “Especially when you blush and turn all pink like you are now,” placing another light kiss on the soft, slightly tinged skin there and doing the same on the other cheek.
“Yeah, I think you might have mentioned it a fair few times,” Yoongi responds, laughter evident in his tone. Before they could get any further, Holly yips again, forcing the two to separate at last. Yoongi leans down and picks the eager poodle up in his arms, gently rocking their baby in his arms and cooing at him, and Namjoon is so endeared he could cry.
“Why don’t you go change, Namjoon-ah?” Yoongi looks up at him again. “I’ve made dinner, so as soon as you’re ready, we can eat and then we can cuddle and talk about it. Or not. Whichever you prefer.” Yoongi’s eyes are so full of understanding and compassion, that Namjoon almost breaks again. Instead, he nods and trudges to their room, ready to put the day behind him.
Later, much later, after the rain has settled and they’ve both eaten a delicious meal, Yoongi manoeuvres the two of them on their couch, so that the younger’s head is in Yoongi’s lap. Holly had strutted his way over to them, jumping on to the couch and decided to go to sleep on Namjoon’s chest, his deep snoring and steady weight acting as a stabilising presence, warming him to his toes. As Yoongi gently cards his fingers through his blonde hair, Namjoon thinks back on his day.
After a period of contemplative silence, he speaks.
“I had a panic attack in the studio today.”
Yoongi hums, encouraging him to keep talking, as he continues to gently play with his hair.
“I was struggling to think of what I wanted to write, and it was like…” Namjoon hesitates, but a soft, understanding hum from Yoongi allows him to power through it. “Hyung, it was like the music had left me, as if I had nothing more to add and that I’d never be good again.” His voice cracks slightly, overwhelmed, while his fingers start twitching at the memory of the hopelessness he’d felt in the studio and he begins stroking Holly’s thick fur to distract himself from the despondency threatening to take over him again.
“I just... I want to be able to put out music, hyung. It’s the one thing I know I’m exceptionally good at, and I want it to be true to me , to the me that I am right now, but also to the me of the past, the one who was angry and wanted to let his voice be heard. I just feel like I don’t know how to do any of that anymore, hyung.” He lets out a sad huff of frustration.
“Oh, Namjoon,” Yoongi begins, his voice soft, yet full of emotion. “I’m so sorry today was so hard, and that it was that kind of a day.” He leans down to place a kiss on Namjoon’s forehead, which makes the younger close his eyes and feel nothing but warmth . “I understand your fears, Joon-ah,” he breathes across his forehead, making Namjoon suppress a shiver. “You know, better than anyone, how much I get into my head sometimes too. But, the only thing that works sometimes is just having faith that whatever you put out will still be you . As long as you’re sincere, which I know you, more than anyone else in this world, absolutely are,” another gentle kiss placed on Namjoon’s forehead. “You’ll be fine, Joon-ah. People will love you and accept you, no matter how much your sound changes. They’d be crazy not to.” That makes them both smile.
“Just like you do, hyung?” Namjoon can’t help but ask, his eyes still closed to hide his vulnerability, his voice a little teasing, but also a little serious. Even now, all these years later, it makes warmth bloom in his chest every time Yoongi tells him he loves him. Makes him feel invincible. Because while Yoongi makes his love evident through his actions; through cooking for him, by fixing things around their apartment when Namjoon is asleep, through words of affirmation or through gentle touches, sometimes, just sometimes, it’s nice to hear how Yoongi feels about him.
“Yeah, Joon-ah. Just like me,” and Namjoon can hear the fond smile in his voice. “But not more than me, of course.” he tacks on with the pout Namjoon is utterly gone for. And, just like that, they’re back to lightly teasing each other again. Hugging Holly closer to his chest, warmth spreads through him from the top of his head, where Yoongi continues his gentle ministrations, to the tips of his toes, which lay just over the arm of their slightly worn out, but well loved sofa, Namjoon begins to drift off. As sleep begins to overtake him, he can hear Yoongi, in his rough, gravelly and steady voice, continue to tell him about his day, the little details that Namjoon loves hearing about, that he misses whenever he has to leave Yoongi for even a few hours.
Sighing contentedly, Namjoon settles in more comfortably on Yoongi’s lap. Although the time in his studio had left him shaken, here in the comfort of his home, surrounded by the person he loves more than music itself, Namjoon convinces himself that tomorrow will be better. He owes it to himself, and to Yoongi, whose unwavering belief and steady, constant support helps to keep him grounded, especially on days like today. Tonight, he sleeps better than he has in a long while.
* * * *
The next morning, Namjoon wakes to the weak winter sunlight streaming through the slanted blinds in their living room window. As he slowly opens his eyes, crusted over with the remnants of sleep, he realises they’d both drifted off right here on their lumpy sofa. Throughout the night, they’d clearly changed positions, especially after Holly had decided he was no longer comfortable enough, and somehow, the couple had managed to land in their favourite one. Taking just a moment to look down, he sees Yoongi has snugly fit his head underneath Namjoon’s chin, his warm breath coming out in cute little snuffles that remind him just a little bit of Holly, arms holding him tightly around his waist, keeping him completely cocooned in his warm embrace. It makes him smile, and his heart beats a little faster as he looks down at the love of his life.
It’s not that Yoongi completely eroded his sadness, or the insecurities he has about his music, but talking to Yoongi always helps to untangle and make sense of the convoluted mess of thoughts and emotions that clamour around in Namjoon’s head and heart. In a raging storm, Yoongi is his unshakeable anchor, who helps him to remember every single day that nothing, not even the bad times, last for an eternity; that it will all surely pass.
Here, wrapped up warmly, Namjoon feels like the pieces of his puzzle that felt so scattered yesterday, are slowly beginning to make sense again. Taking a deep breath, he begins to detangle himself from the mess of limbs, when he hears a grumbling s’too early, Joon-ah, go back to sleep followed by a quick peck at his collarbones.
And, much like yesterday, when Yoongi had beckoned him to come home, Namjoon is helpless to resist the call of his soulmate. Shuffling back down to get more comfortable, despite all the cricks in his back from a night spent on a lumpy couch, and hearing a sigh of contentment from Yoongi, Namjoon realises that he feels ready to start again. That, despite the bad days, it’s soft mornings like these that make everything else worth it. He knows he’s good at what he does, what both of them do, and he wants to see where their future takes them, for as long as they can continue to produce music and do what they love. Their talk last night had already given Namjoon some ideas of the type of sound and vibes he wants to create with this new album, and he wants to get back to the studio and give the ideas rattling around in his brain some coherence, and he will.
Just as soon as he wakes up.
Laying a kiss on Yoongi’s fluffy (and frankly, criminally adorable ) bedhead, he tucks himself in close and closes his eyes again. He deserves to slow down, just a little. He releases one last, cathartic exhale, as if expelling all the bad from yesterday, before the rhythmic rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest lulls him back to a deep sleep.
Everything slow .