Archive of Our Own

“Breathe, Suga,” Namjoon tries to project calmness in his voice. Calmness which he definitely does not have as of the moment. “In for four out for four. Breathe with me, buddy.”

He watches the little boy beside him take shaky breaths, trying to time his breathing with Namjoon’s. Tiny fingers gripped the hem of his suit jacket like a lifeline. Briefly, Namjoon contemplates whether he cares enough if the other guests would think him rude for leaving right after the groom has just entered the hall.

He rubs the boy’s small back as he continues to breathe slowly with him. The tears on his eyes make Namjoon want to cry, too. Yoongi has been so good , behaved so well , was really excited to see his Uncle Minnie and Uncle Taetae get married, but between the loud chattering and the incessant clicking of camera shutters paired with sudden bouts of blinding flashes, the little boy inevitably got overwhelmed. The man had been expecting it, but he had hoped he had at least the end of the ceremony when he can take his son out for a much needed time off.

A minute passes by and the boy is still having a hard time controlling his breathing. His usually droopy eyes are opened wide and wildly searching around the venue. Namjoon tries to get him to focus, to breathe slowly, but the boy is feeling too restless. It’s never easy seeing Yoongi like this, so scared and nervous and feeling unsafe.

“Daddy,” Yoongi whines. A tear starts rolling down the boy’s cheek, followed by another. Namjoon feels his eyes water up too.

“Hey, buddy,” a gentle arm on his shoulder makes Yoongi’s head whip to the man seated beside him. Namjoon looked up to the source of the voice, too. “Hi, I’m Hoseok! What’s your name, bud?”

Yoongi looks back to Namjoon, eyes wide as if asking for permission. Namjoon gives the kid a small smile, a non-verbal okay. Namjoon doesn’t know what the guidelines are for when a stranger approaches your child when they’re anxious and are likely about to have a panic attack, but something about the other’s bright demeanor makes Namjoon want to trust him.

“I-I’m...Yoongi,” the youngest says softly. The other man- Hoseok, his brain supplies-- gives the kid a wide smile.  “That’s a cool name! Do you maybe want to play a game with me, Yoongi?”

Namjoon watched his son, noting how Yoongi was still fidgeting with his hands, the rising and falling of his chest not quite fully in control yet, but at least Hoseok seemed to have piqued his interest. Yoongi nods at the other man and Namjoon knows he should be concerned, should be apprehensive, there’s probably a book out there on strangers and how you shouldn’t let your 6-year-old talk to them, but the boy is looking at the other man like he has the answer to a question the boy doesn’t know how to ask, and the other- this Hoseok person- is willing to give it to him.

The man looks like he knows what he’s doing and Namjoon is a little bit desperate, parenting books be damned.

Luckily, they were the only ones on the table at the moment, vacant seats to be occupied later by Seokjin, who’s currently officiating, and the best men. Namjoon didn’t worry much about causing a disturbance as Hoseok tried to keep his voice low while maintaining the excitement in his voice. “Okay, I need you to find three things you can see around you. You can just pick at random!”

“Anything?”

“Yep!” Hoseok says, “Anything at all!”

Yoongi looks around the venue, breathing still a little too shallow but wide eyes focused on finding a thing, well, three things for the little game. The venue was a big open space, a few round tables with white cloths draped on them are distributed across the floor, a soft pink carpet running across the middle served as the aisle. At the front, a small platform served as a stage where Jimin and Taehyung, two of Namjoon’s best friends, stood with matching flower crowns on their heads, looking like they could see a universe on each other’s eyes. The walls are lined with flowers bursting with colors, carnations and roses and tulips all fighting for attention in a way that would be chaotic but somehow worked; very much like the happy couple.

Yoongi turns back to Hoseok, eyes large and still shiny from tears. “Uhm, flower?”

“Oh, good choice!” The man beams down at the younger. “Which one do you like the best then?”

“T-the pink ones.” Yoongi shyly whispers, pointing at a pink carnation seated at the center of their table.

“They’re very pretty, huh? I like them too!” Hoseok offers the boy a high five which Yoongi takes, tapping his tiny hand softly with the elder’s. “Two more?”

Yoongi goes back to looking around and answers Hoseok with chair and glass to which the man gave him a high five and a “good job!” for each. Namjoon noticed his son has stopped crying by now and instead has switched to biting the nail of his right thumb. Usually, he would slowly put down the younger’s hand with his own to stop him from the habit but he can sense that Yoongi still hasn’t fully calmed down yet and he didn’t want to destroy whatever progress Hoseok has been making with their little game.

“Okay, Yoongi, how about we find two things you can hear?”

Namjoon watched as the other two played their game, shoulders releasing tension as he felt the anxiety roll off the youngest. He watched as the warm smile never left the other man’s face, smiling down at Yoongi even when the kid was not looking. Namjoon couldn’t help but stare, something warm inside his chest blooms and radiates to his fingertips.

By the end of it, Hoseok was able to pull out one of Yoongi’s rare gummy smiles with a pinky promise to get ice cream to reward him for doing a good job. His son turns to grin at him, “Dad, can we get ice cream with Mr. Hoseok, please?”

Namjoon can’t help the grin that overtakes his face, the warmth in his ribs accelerated by the relief of seeing his son smiling. Besides him, he hears Hoseok try to stifle a laugh.

“Please, Yoongi, call me Hobi-hyung.”

Yoongi turns back to the man. “Hobi-hyung?”

“Yep!” Hoseok replies, lightly pinching Yoongi’s right cheek. “My special friends call me Hobi and since you’re a special boy and we’re friends now, you can call me Hobi too!”

Yoongi beams , turns back to Namjoon, and shoots his dad with the puppy eyes he knows the elder can’t resist. “Can we get ice cream with Hobi-hyung, Dad, please?”

Namjoon never stood a chance. “Of course, baby,” He couldn’t help but squish his son’s face between his palms, he’s just so cute . “Later, okay? Don’t you want to watch your uncles get married first?”

Yoongi makes a surprised face, like he’s suddenly just remembered what they’re here for, and turns his head to the stage. Namjoon looks to Hoseok. “Hoseok-ssi,” he smiles, hoping the other could feel the sincerity when he says, “I’m Namjoon. Thank you so much.”

Namjoon looks at Hoseok, really looks at him. He takes in the soft curve of the other’s cheek contrasting the sharp angle of his nose and his jaw. The light blue of the man’s jacket and trousers compliment his eyes and overall, he just radiates warmth, like he catches sunlight in his palms to save for days when blankets are not quite enough to battle the cold. Namjoon thinks he’d look good next to the flowers, he’d look like he belongs among the blossoms.

Hoseok shoots him a bright smile and the other feels warmth in his chest again. “You’re welcome, Namjoon-ssi” he says, “I’m glad I could help.”

For a moment, they just sat there staring at each other when they heard Seokjin’s voice, “You’re both disgusting. Groom, you may now kiss the groom.”

Taehyung grabs Jimin by the waist and dips him, kissing him like he’s trying to suck the air out of the other’s lungs. It was messy, and not pretty, and Jimin’s shoulders shook lightly with barely suppressed laughter. It was perfect , the kind of kiss two people shared when they’ve been drunk in love and kept actively choosing to be every day. The audience breaks out in a mix of laughter, whistles, and claps. Seokjin smiles fondly at the two while Namjoon thinks he sees one of the best men wipe away a tear. For a second, Namjoon feels bad about missing out on the newlywed’s vows and then remembers he helped both of them in writing theirs. He feels less bad thinking how the two are not shy with PDA and would no doubt have to sit through the two being disgustingly in love every time he’ll see them. What’s one confession of love to the countless ones the couple has been sharing and will continue to share?

Namjoon claps his hands and turns to catch a quick glance at Hoseok, only to find the man already looking at him. He offers a quick shy smile which Namjoon returns. They go back to cheering for the happy couple.

/

They ended up not getting that ice cream.

Honestly, the past month has been a blur to Namjoon. He kept busy with paperwork for Yoongi’s new school and the friendly threats from Seokjin, badgering him about the first draft of his new book. (Namjoon loves Seokjin as a friend and knows the other will drop anything to make sure he and Yoongi are safe but as an editor , he’s never really sure if Seokjin will push through with the threats. Namjoon doesn’t want to know.) Besides, he didn’t even get to ask for Hoseok’s number, him and Yoongi rushing out after toasts have been made, dinner has been eaten, and the boy has hugged his uncles and congratulated them on their wedding. Yoongi needed time and rest after having a panic attack, and while they were able to de-escalate that (thanks to Hoseok’s help), Namjoon still wanted to make sure his son can have the quiet time he needs in an environment he’s comfortable in to recover.

He realizes he can probably just get Hoseok’s number from Jimin, remembering that the two are friends. Namjoon files it away, maybe he will text Jimin about it later, for now--

“Daddy?” Namjoon turns to his son just as he finishes fastening the boy’s seatbelt. “Yes, Suga?”

“Do you think it will be okay?” the boy said with a small voice, nervousness rolling off of him in waves. His small hands are clutching the backpack on his lap while he stares at his father with wide eyes and Namjoon wishes he can take away the anxiety, can take away the fear and worries from his son. He was too young to be so scared of so much and Namjoon kind of wishes he can tuck him away in his heart to keep him safe, keep him happy.

“It will be, baby,” Namjoon cups Yoongi’s right cheek, “you’re such a sweet young man, my sweet Suga. I’m sure everyone will like you.”

“But what if they don’t,” the boy lets out a shuddering breath, “what if they don’t like me? What if the teacher hates me? What if no one wants to sit with me and I have to be alone again?”

“Oh, Suga, honey,” Namjoon puts his hands on both sides of Yoongi’s face, stroking gentle circles on his cheeks to soothe the younger, “you won’t be alone, baby. No matter how today goes, you’ll have me, okay? If your classmates don’t want to be friends right away, that’s okay, we’ll eat ice cream and we’ll try again tomorrow, but you won’t be alone, sweet pea. You have me, and you’ll always have me, hm?”

He lifts his right hand to run his fingers through his son’s hair. The boy leans into the touch. “Do I have to go, Daddy? Can’t I just stay with you?”

Namjoon’s heart breaks at those words. He unfastens Yoongi’s seatbelt and guides the younger until he has him in his lap. He holds his son tight, hoping he can convey how much he loves him, hoping Yoongi knows how much Namjoon wishes he can give him everything, how much Namjoon will try to.

“Oh, baby, we don’t have to go if you absolutely don’t want to,” Namjoon places a small kiss on the side of Yoongi’s head, “but school is important, honey, and you have to at least try, okay? Can you try for Daddy?”

Yoongi takes a few seconds to calm down, inhaling and exhaling slowly like Namjoon taught him to. When he finally feels fine enough to speak, he whispers on the crook of his father’s neck, “Okay. I can try, Daddy.”

Namjoon slowly pulls the boy away from him, smiles and gently wipes away the tear tracks from the younger’s cheeks and kisses all over his face until he elicits a giggle. Namjoon tucks him back in the passenger seat and fastens his seatbelt. He makes sure the younger is okay and safe before he drives off.

They reach the school after about 15 minutes.

Namjoon walks with Yoongi stuck to his side, his small hands grasping his as hard as he can. When they reach inside, there are children milling around and a few parents are already talking to what he assumes are the teachers and suddenly, Namjoon kind of regrets not attending the PTA meeting they had the week prior. He had an important meeting with the publishing company that he really couldn’t get out of.

After a couple of minutes of asking around and almost getting lost in the hallways, Namjoon finally stops outside Yoongi’s room. He kneels down to get to Yoongi’s level and takes his son’s hands on each of his.

“Hey, Suga, you’ll do great. You’ll be okay, baby.”

Yoongi bites his lip and gives a small nod. He looks nervous but not too much. Namjoon exhales, relieved, gives his son a big smile and moves to give him a hug that the boy reciprocates.

“Oh, hello,” someone from behind him says, the voice familiar, and Namjoon twists his head to see who spoke.

“Hobi-hyung!” Yoongi says excitedly.

Namjoon stands up, takes Yoongi’s hand and moves so both of them could come closer to the man. “Hello, hi, uhm,” his free hand moves to touch the back of his neck, not too sure if he feels surprised, awkward, embarrassed, or all of those at the same time. He briefly remembers reading a Jung Hoseok will be his son’s new teacher but paid it no mind. Maybe he should have minded because of all the Hoseok’s, of course it would be this one. “Long time.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies, flashing him a bright smile, no sign of the awkwardness Namjoon has been feeling. He’s wearing short sleeve button down shirt with tiny yellow banana prints paired with black slacks. His hair is tousled in a way that makes it look fluffy and soft to touch. It was such a contrast from the sleek hair and light blue suit from the wedding, yet it still complemented Hoseok’s features, bright eyes made even brighter but the curves of his smile softer, more approachable, but professional still.

“When I saw Kim Yoongi on my students’ list, I should have known it would be my favorite boy!” Hoseok turns his bright smile to a wide-eyed Yoongi, “How have you been, Yoongi?”

“I’m your favorite?” Namjoon can’t help the smile that overtakes his face at Yoongi’s awed expression. He really likes Hoseok, huh?

“Yes, you are!” Hoseok chirps, “but don’t tell the other students that, okay?” the man winks at the younger.

Yoongi nods, “I won’t!” The boy says it with such determination that Namjoon’s heart kinda hurts from how cute it is.

“And you have to call me Hoseok-ssaem instead of Hobi-hyung while we’re in the classroom, okay?” Hoseok crouches down lower and holds out his pinky to the boy. “Promise?”

Yoongi links the pinky with his own and nods. “Promise.”

Hoseok stands straight and ruffles Yoongi’s hair, eyes alight with fondness and Namjoon feels a familiar warmth blossom in his chest, “you’re the best, Yoongi!” He turns towards Namjoon, smile softening. “Hey, classes are starting so we better go inside but, uhm, I’ll see you around?”

The other’s eyes are filled with something that looks like hope, or maybe Namjoon is just projecting his own hopes on the other. “Yes, I’ll see you!” he beams, “I still owe you that ice cream after all.”

At that, Hoseok’s smile grows wider and he lets out a little chuckle as he takes Yoongi’s hand to lead him inside the classroom. “I’ll look forward to it, Namjoon-ssi!”

/

They finally do get that ice cream. And a little more.

It’s been about a month since the first day of classes and Namjoon spends a few of those after-school afternoons with his son and Hoseok as he learned just how much sweet of a tooth the both of them have. They’ve gone for ice cream the first time, and then for boba tea and cakes and then cupcakes and more. Yoongi really likes his Hobi-hyung and Hoseok seems to feel the same, and Namjoon is happy seeing the both of them enjoy each other’s company.

Hoseok is good with Yoongi in a way that none of the boy’s past teachers have been. He seems to bring out the talkative side of Yoongi and genuinely looks interested and engrossed with the boy’s every word. The warmth in Namjoon’s chest upon seeing Hoseok be good to Yoongi is all too familiar now, a comfort that seems to blanket his entire body, thoughts of manuscripts and deadlines pushed aside to make way for the solace of the now.

And now, now is trying new cupcakes Jimin made in the little café he runs downtown. Now is sticky fingers, Yoongi’s gummy smile, and Hoseok.

They sat down at a table near the counter, beside one of the tall glass windows that illuminate the place. The weather is nice today, the sun giving the kind of perfect warmth that seeps into your bones but doesn’t make you sweat out. Namjoon is sat across Hoseok who’s sitting beside Yoongi, the two exchanging cupcakes to see if the yellow frosting on the elder’s tastes different than the pink one on the boy’s. They giggle when Yoongi accidentally gets a bit of frosting on his nose and Hoseok deliberately touches his nose with his cupcake to match the younger. The moment is perfect, the kind of perfect that Namjoon wishes he could capture in words. (Maybe he will).

His hand itches to reach out, to touch the moment, to capture it with pen and paper, or wipe frosting off of Hoseok’s nose and feel the warmth he’s been nursing in his chest directly from the source, but he does neither. He just smiles at the two, adoring and hopeful, wishes he could stretch this moment and bask in it a little while longer. He turns to the counter, feeling someone’s gaze on him, and sees Jimin looking at him, gaze fond and smile soft. Jimin smiles at him like he knows something Namjoon doesn’t but he doesn’t dwell on it. They’ll talk, knows Jimin wouldn’t let this go so easy, but that’s for later.

Namjoon lets himself enjoy the now, for a little bit more, a little while longer.

/

Turns out ice cream doesn’t solve everything.

Every now and then, the boy has days where he gets overwhelmed by just about anything- the sound of the kettle boiling, the beeping of the microwave, the loud scraping of the chair as it gets pushed back from the table- and today is one of those days. Yoongi is having a bad day, and Namjoon-- he’s having kind of a bad day, too.

Saturday morning starts with the sound of the piano from the living room. Yoongi doesn’t ask for a lot of things from his dad, the boy too incredibly shy to ask for something even as small as snacks. Namjoon tried, has been and still is trying, his best to show the boy that it’s okay to ask for things he needs and wants, that his dad wants to get him things that make him happy, so when Yoongi turned to him with wide pleading eyes after watching a man play in a mall one day, the thought of saying no didn’t even cross his mind.

The melody repeats and it brings a smile to Namjoon’s face. He’ll never forget the first time Yoongi touched the keys of his vertical piano, the moment when his finger pushed down on a key and made a sound, the reverence in his expression as he watched Namjoon play a few notes, melodies remembered from a time when he dreamed differently. If love at first sight was a thing, Namjoon pretty sure he witnessed it at that moment. The boy has been taking lessons for about half a year now and Namjoon adores the way his son works hard and pours his soul on every new piece he learns.

Namjoon trudges out of his office. He didn’t even notice it was morning, having spent the whole night typing away on his laptop, trying to force the words out from his brain to the word file opened in front of him. He loves his job, loves being able to write the worlds living in his head and make a living out of it, but there are just some days when writing is hard , and no matter how hard he tries, nothing feels enough. He’s a bit frustrated, the story is not flowing the way he wants to, the characters falling flat, and he thinks he might just salvage this if given a bit more time, but time isn’t something he currently has. The deadlines for his drafts are looming closer and closer and he can already feel the publishers hounding his ass for his manuscript.

He passes by Yoongi on his way to the kitchen, the boy looking small in front of his piano, but looking like he belongs all the same. He heads straight to his coffee maker and pours himself a cup. He loves his son, he really does, but he feels like he might just pass out if he doesn’t get coffee in him stat. He lifts the mug to his lips and the instant the bitter warmth hits his tongue, he already feels a bit more awake.

He heads to the living room to greet his son good morning but noticed something was a bit off. Yoongi plays immaculately as usual, but something about the tense line of the boy’s shoulders and the stiffness of his back tells him something needs to be fixed. Namjoon walks around the piano until he’s in his son’s field of view, waiting patiently until Yoongi acknowledges him so as not to startle the younger. Yoongi notices him almost immediately and Namjoon offers a small smile, the hand not holding a coffee mug reaching out to run fingers through his son’s hair. “Are you okay, Suga?”

The boy has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the light scratching on his scalp, then lets out a shaky exhale but stays silent. This raises Namjoon’s worry, so he settles his mug atop the piano lid and makes sure it’s not in any danger of falling off, then proceeds to place both palms on the sides of his son’s face. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?”

Yoongi opens his eyes, meets his dad’s, and immediately looks down, hands retracting from the keys. A frown makes its way to his face and his eyes get glassy. “I can’t get this piece right, Daddy.” He sniffs. “I’ll never get it right. I’ve been practicing so much and I’m still messing up, I don’t—," Namjoon feels a tear wet the palm he has on Yoongi’s cheek, “I don’t wanna play anymore.”

The boy lets out a sob and Namjoon is quick to pull Yoongi up, sits down at the stool, and situates his son on his lap. He hugs him close and rubs his back and a dam breaks. He feels the tears wet the crook of his neck. “Oh, honey. Oh, Suga, baby.”

“I don’t-I can’t-I’m no good, Daddy,” Yoongi’s small frame shakes with every sob, “I’m so bad , and I practice so many times, but I can’t get it right, I- I can’t, please don’t send me back.”

Namjoon freezes, his chest aches . He feels his heart split into pieces, feels all the fragments it’s been broken down to and he’s not quite sure he can catch them all with his hands, not so sure he can piece them back together again. He knows it’s probably just Yoongi’s anxious brain telling him these things, making him believe he’s not good enough but it’s still painful to see his son like this. How long has his son been worried about this? Why has he not noticed? Is he not doing enough for Yoongi? Does he not show him he loves him enough and that he’s never returning him? Is he not loving Yoongi enough to make him feel safe, to give him a home ?

Namjoon’s chest aches and aches so bad that it’s getting kind of hard for him to breathe, too. He ignores the stream of wetness on his cheek and tries to focus on Yoongi, he needs to comfort him, needs him to know he’ll never return him, needs to tell him this is his home, it’s Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s home is Yoongi and—

The words won’t come out. He feels too much of everything and suddenly the words feel like a lump on his throat threatening to drown him. He can’t, he needs to be strong for Yoongi, needs to be the calm Yoongi needs right now. He forces the lump down, swallows it, and hopes, wishes , that Yoongi would understand, that Yoongi would know.

“I love you, Suga,” he whispers to the side of the boy’s head, “I love you so much, Yoongi. I would never ever send you back. You’re—this is your home .”

The boy holds him tighter, still crying in earnest. Namjoon lets out a shaky breath, rocks them back and forth to soothe both of them. This feels a lot like the first few months with Yoongi again, the uncertainty, the nagging voice at the back of his head always doubting if he’s doing enough, if he’ll ever be enough for a kid as good as Yoongi. Namjoon feels the familiar spiral trying to pull him down, but he can’t let it, won’t let it. It’s just a bad day, it’s just one bad day.

And on bad days, you get help when you need it.

Namjoon stands and heads toward his small office, picks up his phone, and dials a number. “Hey—Tae? Can you or Jimin come over, please?”

Taehyung lets him know he can’t come because he has an important shoot later that he absolutely cannot miss else he’ll be running over to their apartment, but that he’ll call Jimin and to expect him in a few. Namjoon thanks him, ends the call, and sits down on his chair. Yoongi is still crying in his arms, albeit a little less now, his small frame not shaking as much from the force of his sobs. He runs his hand along the length of the boy’s back, willing his breathing to slow. Namjoon feels exhausted, feels the countless hours he hasn’t slept all of a sudden, feels the kind of tired you can’t remedy with sleep. He thought he got better with the insecurities, with dealing with that nasty voice in his head (god, his therapist won’t be so happy about this), but he feels the weight of it all settling in his bones once again. He knows it’s just his brain telling him this, knows better not to believe it, but sometimes—sometimes, it’s too tiring to keep fighting yourself all the time, sometimes, no matter how many people say you’re winning, you just feel so defeated and—yeah, this is one of those times.

He feels Yoongi shift a bit in his hold, pays attention to his son. Yoongi comes first. He’ll deal with the bad thoughts later, Yoongi always comes first. “Daddy?” a small voice whispers.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Do you really mean it?” Yoongi sniffles and Namjoon feels a fresh stream of tears on his shirt. “Do you really love me?”

“Suga, baby, listen,” Namjoon takes Yoongi’s small face in his hands, moves him slowly to see his eyes. “I love you,” he presses a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “I love you so much,” another kiss to his cheek, “Always.” a soft kiss to the other cheek. “I’ll never stop,” a kiss to his tiny button nose. “I love you and I will always, always, love you. I won’t change my mind ever .”

He presses their foreheads together, looks into the younger’s eyes, and hopes he understands just how much he means to Namjoon. “I’m never leaving you,” he hugs the boy close again, “the only way you’ll get rid of me is if you don’t love me anymore. Even then, I’ll never stop, I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” Yoongi clings tighter, “I’ll always love you too.”

He lets out a little chuckle. “Good, because you’re stuck with me forever now.”

Namjoon just holds on to Yoongi, waits until his tears die down to soft sniffles and feels the younger’s body sag against his. He doesn’t really know what time it is, they probably should eat something, remembers they haven’t even had breakfast yet, but Namjoon’s exhausted and Yoongi’s surely exhausted and his son is so warm , maybe it won’t be so bad to take a short nap—

His thoughts are disrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Yoongi stirs a bit, surprised probably. “Uncle Minnie?” he whispers.

Namjoon smiles. “Probably. Let’s go greet him?”

Yoongi nods but makes no move to get off his dad so Namjoon carries him to the living room where he gently drops him off the couch before answering the door.

“Hey, Ji—“ He starts but instead of the blonde hair of his shorter friend, he’s greeted by black locks, and a bright but hesitant smile.

“Oh, uhm, hi!” Hoseok says. Why is Hoseok here? Did he call Hoseok? Did they miss school? It’s Saturday, there’s no school, why is Hoseok—

“So, uhm, Jimin couldn’t come because one of his part-timers got sick and he has no one to cover and well…I’m free? and I was already there? So, uhh, here,” Hoseok hands him a plastic bag with the familiar pink box from Jimin’s café—cupcakes—and two tubs of…ice cream?

His confusion must show on his face since Hoseok giggles at his expression. “The cupcakes are from Jimin and the ice cream—well, I thought, you know, Yoongi likes ice cream? And Jimin told me he was feeling down? So…yeah.”

Namjoon takes in the sight of Hoseok, his right hand rubbing at the back of his neck, a shy smile on his face. He’s wearing a white and yellow sweater with a big smiley face printed in the middle, the sleeves a bit too long for his arms covering a portion of his hands. It looks so soft, he looks so soft, he wants to reach out and touch —

“Are you okay, Namjoon-ssi?” Hoseok asks softly, eyes laced with worry. “If you’re not, I can go? I didn’t mean to intrude, I was just—”

“No! No, no, it’s—fine,” Namjoons waves his free hand in front of him. He belatedly realized he’s just stared at Hoseok—god, wow, that’s embarrassing, he’s embarrassing—and feels the heat creeping up his cheeks. “Come in, please! I’m sorry, I was just…a bit surprised.”

Namjoon moves back and opens the door wider for Hoseok to come in. “Yeah? Sorry, I probably should have texted you,” the other says.

“No, it’s fine, it’s okay! I’m glad you’re here.”

The sides of Hoseok’s mouth twitch upward, a small smile playing on his lips. “I—yeah, thank you. Just, Jimin told me to come quickly. Is everything okay?”

“Oh…that.” Namjoon’s smile falters for a bit and hopes Hoseok didn’t notice. But with the way the other’s face contorts to that of worry, he knows he did. “Well, we’re just having a bad day, I guess.”

“Oh.” Hoseok says, “Should I go?”

“I mean, you can stay. If you want to, that is,” Namjoon is quick to reply, “You’re welcome here. Yoongi—well, we like having you around.”

Hoseok lets the smile overtake his face this time. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Namjoon feels warm at the sight, can’t help but smile back, “I’m sure.”

For a few seconds, they both stood there just smiling at each other. Hoseok has a really nice smile, a really nice face, really nice lips —he coughs to stop that train of thought. “Oh, uhm, Yoongi’s at the living room? If you wanted to see him?”

Hoseok giggles, “you’re not sure?”

He feels his cheeks redden. “I’m sure, I’m sure! I’m—well, I’m gonna go, uhh, put this in the fridge…or something.”

Hoseok chuckles a bit again as he walks away from Namjoon and towards the living room, “you go do that.”

After putting away the cupcake and the ice cream, Namjoon takes a few seconds to calm himself down. Hoseok is attractive, that’s no secret, he catches himself looking a bit too long sometimes at his jaw, his nose, his collarbones—everything about him is attractive, okay, and Namjoon is just a man. A very weak man who’s also attracted to other men. God, how long has it been since he’s let himself feel this, since he’s let himself have a—a crush . A crush! Is that what this is? Does he have a crush on his son’s teacher?

Namjoon pours himself a glass of water and drinks it down and takes a few deep breaths. He’s cool, he can be cool, he’s a best-selling author, goddamnit. He can do this, he’s totally fine, very calm, so calm . He turns to face the direction of the living room, ready to absolutely not be awkward around his—his crush . No, Yoongi’s teacher . Okay, he can do this. He steps forward only to change his mind and head back, getting a new glass and pours water on it.

Namjoon might be an awkward man (with a crush) but he’s an awkward man with manners (and a crush ).

He reaches the couch and sees Yoongi and Hoseok chatting, catches a bit of the conversation—something about an art project they’re having? Well, he can just ask later. The two of them turn to look at him when he comes to their field of view. Namjoon offers the glass of water to Hoseok. “We have other stuff, like juice, or coffee, or—tea? I’m not sure but, uhm,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck as Hoseok takes the glass from him, smiling all the while, eyes looking like he’s amused and maybe a bit fond, “if there’s anything you want? and we have it? uhm, feel free, I guess.”

Hoseok’s smile draws bigger, eyes closing from the intensity of it and if anyone asks, Namjoon’s heart definitely did not skip a beat.

(It definitely did.)

“It’s okay, Namjoon-ssi,” Hoseok says, “thank you.”

They chatted about everything and nothing at all. Namjoon tells him about the book he’s writing—a story on ordinary lives and quiet loves—and Hoseok tells him he usually teaches dance at a small studio on weekends, where he met Jimin, and today’s a rare Saturday he’s free, and Yoongi tells them about how his Uncle Taetae promised to take him to see the aquarium soon. They were chatting about music, found a common interest in hip hop, when Hoseok’s eyes fall on the piano at the corner of the room.

“You play?” He asks Namjoon.

“Uhh, barely,” Namjoon replies, “it’s Yoongi’s.”

Hoseok turns to Yoongi, smiling wide. “Oh, do you like playing Yoongi?”

The boy looks at the piano, smiles fondly at it. Hoseok’s gaze softens at the boy even though he doesn’t see it. “Will you play for me?”

Yoongi tenses, looks to Namjoon. Hoseok feels the shift in the atmosphere and is quick to apprehend, “Oh you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Yoongi! Hyung just got curious since you looked happy looking at your piano—”

“I’ll play,” Yoongi says, “for Hobi-hyung.”

Namjoon looks at the younger, sees the set of his jaw, the determined look on his eyes. He knows Yoongi doesn’t just want to play for Hoseok, wants to prove something to himself, too, so he doesn’t stop him. By his soft gaze and fond expression, Namjoon knows Hoseok knows too. He feels the familiar warmth the other never fails to bring envelop him down to his fingertips.

“Shall we, then?”

They move to the piano, Yoongi sitting on the stool, Hoseok in front of him, and Namjoon a bit back watching the two. He watches Yoongi straighten up the music sheets on the rack, then moves on to sit up straighter on the stool, fingers poised on the keys. He takes a deep breath and plays the first few notes. He’s doing so well , and Namjoon’s chest swells with pride. There are very few things in the world, he thinks, that he’d rather see more than this: Yoongi in his element, Yoongi, eyes closed, letting his soul pour out on every note, on every key, Yoongi looking happy and like he found the one thing he wants to spend his life doing.

The song is a familiar one, one of the first full pieces Yoongi learned and practiced over and over until he perfected it. It’s beautiful, the way Yoongi feels so in control and confident and empowered as his fingers dance on the keys. The song ends, and both Namjoon and Hoseok clap.

“Yoongi! You were so good!” Hoseok exclaims, smile growing wider and wider if that was even possible, “You’re so talented, oh my god! You really are the best boy, aren’t you?”

Yoongi smiles shyly at Hoseok, then wider at Namjoon. He thinks he’d give absolutely everything to keep Yoongi smiling like that.

“Can you play me one more?” Hoseok looks to Yoongi with a hopeful smile. “You don’t have to, Yoongi, but if you want to, I’d really love to hear you play more.”

He sounds so genuine that it makes Namjoon ache. A good kind of ache. The kind of ache that you feel when you see something just so utterly good and want to reach out and take, want it for yourself, and you know you can’t have it but it still feels good, feels enough, to just witness something so good.

“I-I, there’s this song I’m learning…” Yoongi whispers and Namjoon snaps his attention back to him, “it’s not perfect yet but, uhm.”

“Hey, buddy,” Hoseok places a hand on Yoongi’s head, fingers tangling with the hair, “I’d love whatever you play for me. I promise.”

Yoongi seems to calm down a bit at that, turns back to the keys. He hovers his fingers over them, takes a deep breath, and starts playing. He’s playing as well as he usually does but Namjoon still watches him closely, knows the part where Yoongi’s struggling is coming, hopes Yoongi gets through it. The part comes, Namjoon recognizes the set of notes that were repeated on and on just this morning, and Yoongi misses a note but pushes through. Namjoon lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he’s okay, Yoongi’s okay, he pushed on—

But then Yoongi misses another note, and another, and suddenly the song doesn’t sound like the piece that was supposed to be playing anymore. Namjoon feels the frustration coming off of his son and he moves to reach out, to tell him to stop, that it’s okay—but Hoseok beats him to it. Being nearer the younger, he reaches out and takes Yoongi’s hands in his, stopping the boy from playing. He kneels down without letting go, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the other’s palm. Namjoon moves to settle behind Yoongi, a hand tangling through his hair.

“Hey—Hey, Yoongi? Look at me?” The boy hesitates but still looks to Hoseok. “You did so well.”

Yoongi hiccups. “N-no, I didn’t, I ruined the song, I can’t play it, I’m so bad , I’m—”

“Hey, hey, look at me, please?” Namjoon watches Hoseok move closer, taking Yoongi’s face in his hands, just like he did with the boy this morning. “I know I’m not an expert on playing piano, but to me, you played so well.” He brushes the hair out of the boy’s face. “I loved it. So much. I’ll go to every concert you’ll play and then I’ll go poor because you’ll be playing so many concerts, Yoongi, so many—”

“Nooo,” Yoongi lets out a shaky giggle, “I won’t. My fingers will fall off.”

Hoseok and Namjoon both laugh at that “No, they won’t. Because you’ll take good care of them. But no matter how many concerts you play, or how many recitals, or stages, I’ll watch them, okay. That’s how much I love hearing you play.”

Namjoon watches the two of them, Yoongi, tear-streaked but letting out a small smile, and Hoseok, on his knees holding the boy like he’s someone special, someone precious and Namjoon—

Namjoon wants .

They stay there for a few seconds, taking time to calm down, savoring the moment that washed over them—until Yoongi’s stomach makes a noise. The boy’s eyes go wide, cheeks reddening and he tries to look away from the two adults. Namjoon looks horrified—did he just forget to feed his son? What time is it even anyway—and Hoseok giggles at the two of them.

“Welp, brunch, anyone?”

They move to the kitchen and Hoseok ends up cooking. Yoongi exposed Namjoon’s terrible skills in the kitchen and complained about how he doesn’t want his dad to poison his Hobi-hyung. Hoseok laughs at that and goes to check and collect ingredients from their pantry and fridge. Thankfully, they have enough to make omelets but not much else. Namjoon makes a mental note to go grocery shopping soon.

So, Hoseok made the omelets while Namjoon and Yoongi worked together to set the table. Hoseok is a good cook and Namjoon is very much sold and looks like Yoongi is, too. They thank Hoseok for the meal and Namjoons moves to wash the dishes (to which Hoseok fights him a bit for but ultimately gives up as Namjoon insists he already cooked the food so he should do the washing). He sends the two away to watch TV with ice cream and cupcakes on hand. Namjoon follows them after he’s done drying the dishes.

They all share the ice cream while they watch cartoons. Yoongi is still a bit off, not his usual cheery self around his Hobi-hyung, but he’s calmer, probably just exhaustion catching up to him from crying so much today. Hoseok has his arm over Yoongi’s shoulder, ice cream in hand where everyone can access it. He watches TV for the most part but steals a few glances here and there at Yoongi and Namjoon and whenever he catches the other’s eyes, they smile at each other. A familiar comfort envelopes Namjoon and warms him from the inside.

So, yeah, turns out ice cream doesn’t solve everything. But—as he watches Yoongi slowly doze off on Hoseok’s side and Hoseok smiling down softly at Yoongi—ice cream with these two can make just about anything better , and that’s enough.

/

The next time Namjoon has ice cream, he has an epiphany.

Well, that’s maybe a bit overdramatic but Namjoon is Namjoon, and he makes a living off of being dramatic, he’s a writer , damn it.

Namjoon is working on his manuscript when he gets a call at around three in the afternoon. He doesn’t even look at the caller ID, too distracted with typing. The words were finally flowing , and somehow writing has been a bit easier these past few days, and hell if he’s not going to make the most out of that. He presses the phone to his ear, not quite sure how he’ll manage to pay attention to whoever’s on the other line but too stubborn to stop typing.

“Hello?”

“NAMJOON HYUNG,” Namjoon withdraws the phone from his ear. Why the hell is Taehyung shouting at him?

“Why are you shouting?” Namjoon looks irritably at his phone, all concentration he had before gone straight to hell once he heard that yell.

“Sorry, hyung, he’s just excited,” Namjoon hears Jimin’s voice chime in, “Anyway, Jin-hyung wants us all to go out tonight.”

“Oh, well,” Namjoon replies—it’s not that he doesn’t want to come, he loves his friends, loves spending time with them but he doesn’t exactly have the liberty to just go out whenever he wants to. “Well, uhm, Yoongi—”

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT HYUNG,” Taehyung’s loud voice comes again, “We asked your mom! She’s coming to pick him up at 5! And then you can go prepare! And then we’re all heading out at 8pm! It’s gonna be so fun, hyung, I miss you so fuc—”

“Anyway,” Jimin butts in, “See you at 8, hyung?”

Well, who is Namjoon to refuse, really, if they’ve already involved his mom. “Yeah,” he replies, “Yeah, see you at 8pm.”

Namjoon spends the next two hours scrambling to get Yoongi ready. He packs his overnight bag, gets Yoongi dressed, and made sure the younger has everything he’ll need for the night. He has a few extra minutes and some before five rolls around which he spends coddling Yoongi, making the younger roll his eyes at his dad.

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Yoongi says, “I’m just staying one night at halmeoni’s. I’m sure she’ll take care of me so no worrying, Daddy.”

Namjoon blinks at his son for a few seconds. “Wait, when did you become so mature, huh?” He has Yoongi’s head trapped in one arm, the other playfully ruffling his hair, “who gave you permission to grow up so fast, huh?”

Yoongi giggles at his father’s antics. He wiggles his way out of his dad’s hold and he lets him. “You’re silly, daddy, I’m still a kid! I’m still your baby.”

Namjoon’s heart does a funny thing at that. He just feels so much love and pride for the boy in his arms that it feels like he’s about to burst with it all. He remembers the first time he met Yoongi, remembers how hesitant, how apprehensive the boy was. He remembers how closed off he’s been, how afraid , how much he rejected the idea of being loved and deserving of affection. Yoongi was much too young to feel so dejected and anxious but now—

Now, Yoongi lets Namjoon hold him, lets his Uncle Minnie snuggle him on movie nights, lets Taehyung kiss him on the cheek sometimes. Yoongi accepts Seokjin’s little gifts with a ‘thank you’ now instead of a skeptical look, lets Hoseok give him cookies, feed him portions of his ice cream. The Yoongi now touches flowers he thinks are pretty, lets his fingers dance on the piano, and bares his soul with the music.

Now, Yoongi says ‘I love you’ and means it, lets Namjoon say it to him back and feels it.

Namjoon is so proud of Yoongi, loves him so much, that he can’t help but just hold the younger close to him.

“Silly Daddy, you’re squishing me.”

“I can’t help it, you’re just too cute, Suga.”

Yoongi giggles at that, gently pushes Namjoon away from him, and looks back at the elder with determined eyes, “am not cute, Daddy.”

“Nuh-uh, you so are. My cute baby.”

“Nooo, Daddy,” Yoongi tries to turn his face away from the flurry of kisses Namjoon attacks his face with, “you know who’s cute?”

“You?”

“Silly Daddy! Not me! Hobi-hyung,” Yoongi grins at him and if the boy wasn’t six, Namjoon could swear the boy was teasing him, “don’t you think so, Daddy?”

Namjoon couldn’t help the warmth suddenly on his cheeks. “Oh, uhm,” he clears his throat, “Yeah, I think so…He is cute, I guess.”

Yoongi giggles again. (Namjoon rejoices at the fact that his son is giggly today, little victories.) “Do you like Hobi-hyung, Daddy?”

“I-I, uhm, well, you see—I, well,” Namjoon’s face feels even warmer, doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s read as a tomato right now. He inhales deeply and sighs, no point in lying to his son (he doesn’t want to anyway). “Yeah, I do. I like Hoseok.”

Yoongi nods solemnly. “Good,” the boy wraps his arms around Namjoon’s neck and holds tight, “I like him, too.”

Namjoon’s heart does a somersault, feels warm all over. It feels like an approval Namjoon didn’t even know he needed.

They hold each other like that for a few moments until the doorbell rings. Namjoon’s mother comes in like a storm, all over everything all at once. The familiar coddling and loving nagging a kind of comfort to Namjoon and he feels at ease. He knows Yoongi will be safe, be taken care of, that he can rest easy just for this one night.

Namjoon sees them to the door, kisses both of them on the cheek, and bids them goodbye.

He still has a few hours to kill before his friends come to whisk him away. Namjoon goes back to his office and tries to work on his manuscript a bit more. In the quiet of his home, he lets himself think of a certain warm smile, of yellow-frosting cupcakes, of heart-shaped lips, and a perfect kind of weather giving just the perfect kind of warmth, and he types.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when his phone rings.

“You better not be working on your goddamn manuscript,” Seokjin says on the other line.

Caught. Seokjin knows him too well. “I, well,” Namjoon briefly considers lying just to annoy the elder a bit but dismisses that thought right away. Jin will know, and he doesn’t want to find out what he will do. “Fine, I’ll stop. Where are you guys anyway?”

“We’ll be there in,” there’s a brief pause on the other side, he assumes Jin looks at his watch to check the time, “20 minutes tops. Be ready or I will drag your ass unready.” The call ends.

Namjoon does not doubt that Jin absolutely will. He runs to the bathroom and takes a quick shower. He’s just about done with fixing his hair when his doorbell rings.

He opens his door and is immediately tackled to a hug by Taehyung. “Hyung, hyung, hyung, I missed you! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s—”

“Babe, let the man breathe,” Jimin wrangles Taehyung from the tight hold he has on Namjoon. “Hi, hyung, you look great.”

Namjoon smiles. “You look great, too, Jimin.”

“Not as good-looking as me though,” Seokjin chimes, as he enters the door.

Both Jimin and Taehyung groan and roll their eyes at the eldest’s antics, to which Jin shoves their shoulders. Namjoon smiles even wider at the sight. He missed his friends. Sure, he sees them quite a bit—Namjoon likes to frequent Jimin’s café with Yoongi, Jin comes over regularly, both for work and to hang out, and so does Tae, when he’s not busy flying to who knows where for his photoshoots and shows—but when was the last time they actually went out altogether to get drinks and just have fun ? Far too long , his brain supplies.

Namjoon picks up his jacket from the rack by the entryway and they all head out. They took a cab that brought them to one of the bars they used to frequent back in college. The place is small and cozy, buzzing with conversations, a few of the customers looking like college students trying to chill with their friends and the other salarymen trying to unwind from a long week of work. They settle on a table near the back and get their drinks.

Another person joins them after half an hour or so, one Namjoon recognizes from the wedding. Jungkook , his brain supplies, Taehyung’s best man. The kid seemed shy at first, wide eyes filled with reverence when Jimin told him that Namjoon’s a writer and apparently wrote one of his favorite books of all time ever. Hyung, that’s the book of my life , Jungkook said, to which Namjoon just shyly smiled at him. A few hours in, though, Jungkook relaxes and joins in when Taehyung and Jimin laugh at Seokjin nagging at Namjoon when the writer accidentally spilled his beer. At one point, Taehyung gets them all ice cream—Namjooon doesn’t ponder too much on the how and why a bar even has ice cream because well, it’s Taehyung .

The night passes rather calmly, conversation and banter flowing easily in the way it does between friends who’ve championed the test of time. Namjoon missed this, missed having the familiar comfort of being around people he likes and who likes him back. He smiles down at his ice cream. He thinks the night is almost perfect, just missing a certain warm smile, a certain warm presence—

Namjoon misses Hoseok.

He hasn’t seen the other for about a week now, except for the short moments and hurried smiles they share when Namjoon brings and picks up Yoongi from school. It’s not that he’s avoiding Hoseok, it’s just—okay, well, yeah, maybe he is avoiding Hoseok. But it’s not because Namjoon doesn’t want to spend time with him, quite the opposite actually. He wants to spend as much time as he can with the other, wants to bask in the now familiar warmth he always has with him. Sometimes, Namjoon catches himself wanting Hoseok to be there whenever he thinks he’s written a particularly good line, catches himself wanting to celebrate with Hoseok when Yoongi finally, finally , nails that one piece he’s been having difficulty with. Sometimes, Namjoon lets himself imagine what it’d be like to take him out, not just for their usual afternoon snack runs with Yoongi, but on a proper dinner, to spend time learning about each other, lets himself imagine what it’d be like to have him on his bed and wake up the morning after to Hoseok’s bed hair, imagines what his sleeping face would be like.

He looks at Hoseok sometimes and sees something a lot like hope, like maybe, maybe Hoseok imagines those, too, but Namjoon—Namjoon can’t, doesn’t want to be selfish, so he only lets himself imagine.

“—hyung. Namjoon-hyung?” Namjoon’s attention snaps to Jimin and suddenly, he’s aware of the eyes on him. Jimin scoffed at this reaction. “You okay, hyung?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, just spaced out—" Namjoon clears his throat, tries to regain composure. “What are we talking about?”

“I just mentioned it would be fun to have Hobi-hyung join us sometime,” Jimin throws a teasing smile at him. “You guys have been spending some time together, right?”

Namjoon’s face heats up at that, prays his friends don’t notice with the dim lights of the bar. Jin raises an eyebrow at him and Jimin keeps his eyes on him, teasing smile still on his face, while Jungkook looks to be in an intense conversation about anime with a slurring Taehyung.

“I, uhh, well—I guess so?” Namjoon glances to Seokjin, then to Jimin, and fiddles with his glass. “I mean, Yoongi really likes him.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Jin chirps then takes a sip of his beer. “Do you like him?”

“Wh-no, it’s not like that,” Namjoon appeases.

“Sure, sure. Humor me, Joon,” Jin shifts his body slightly towards him, and Namjoon doesn’t like where this is going. “Do you think he’s attractive?”

“I mean, yeah, objectively—”

“Okay, do you want to fuck him?”

Namjoon sputters. “Jin, wh—he’s Yoongi’s teacher , I—”

“Not a no, hmm. Do you want to date him then?”

“ Jin —”

“Definitely, then. Jimin,” Jin turns his head towards the other and Jimin perks up. “Is this Hoseok guy passable? Does he have a boyfriend?"

"Oh, very . Hot piece of ass, knows how to work said ass, too." Jimin wiggles his eyebrows at Jin. “And no, he does not have a boyfriend, but very much open to having one,” he pointedly stares at him and Namjoon sputters.

“Don’t see a problem, then, Joonie my man,” Jin turns back to him, “He’s single, you’re single, why not mingle?”

Namjoon sighs. “It’s not that simple.”

“I disagree but go on,” Jin replies.

Namjoon takes a second to look at Jin and then Jimin, takes in their patient gaze. “I just—I don’t,” he takes a deep breath and tries again. “Yoongi is my priority, and besides, this—” he gestures vaguely at himself, “—is a mess. Too Much. He doesn’t deserve to deal with that.”

He takes a swig of his beer, feels his friends’ gaze on him soften. Fuck, he didn’t mean to let that out. This was supposed to be a fun night out with the bros, not a throw Namjoon a pity party night.

“Hyung,” Jimin starts. “You know I love you, right?”

Namjoon hums in acknowledgment. “I mean this in the most loving way possible but that was some bullshit,” Jimin continues. “You’re not something someone just has to deal with. You are a fucking—a delight, you hear me? Fuck, you’re so amazing I can’t even—”

“I’m not, though,” Namjoon cuts in, lets out a shaky laugh. “I appreciate you saying that but you and I both know how bad it sometimes gets and I don’t,” he sighs, “I don’t want Hoseok to have to pick up after me when I break, I don’t want him to see that.”

It’s silent for a beat, then Jin grabs his shoulders with both of his hands and turns him to face the other. “Okay, listen up here, noodle man,” Jin says. “I’ve known you since college , it’s been what like, 15 years now?”

“—Nine. Jin, what—”

“Nine. Nine . Wow, nine fucking years,” Jin lets out an amused chuckle at that, “Nine years and I’ve seen you freak out about exams, and submitting the draft for your first book. I was with you when you cried like a baby when you heard of your first nomination, and I was there when you first held Yoongi, and I was there on his first birthday, and you best bet I’ll be there on every goddamn birthday, wow I love that kid—”

“Jin, where is this going?”

“The point is, Joonie noodly man,” Jin lets go of his left shoulder to point a finger at him, “The point is that I’d do it all over again if I had to. Not because of some weird moral code I have or whatever, but because I love you as a friend. Believe it or not, you are lovable , you big baby.”

Namjoon doesn’t know what to say. Jin still sees the hesitation in Namjoon’s eyes. “Joon, we’ve seen a lot of each other’s up’s and down’s, and you were never a burden to me,” Jin continues, “in fact, it’s been a goddamn privilege. You’re so good to Yoongi, Joon. You make him happy. You’re not gonna care for him or love him any less by letting yourself be happy, too.”

Namjoon looks at Jin, then turns his head to Jimin, even Jungkook and Taehyung are listening now, too. They all look at him with fond expressions and Namjoon feels warm. He feels something a lot like hope take root in his chest. He looks down on his bowl of slowly melting ice cream and around at the table, at his friends , thinks of how much Hoseok would fit, thinks of how much Hoseok can belong here with his own bowl of ice cream, laughing at Jin’s antics and encouraging Taehyung’s questionable drunk decisions, thinks of how much Hoseok belongs the last time he held Yoongi on his side while the boy dozed off. He thinks of Hoseok’s smile and the warmth in his chest, thinks of how good Hoseok is to Yoongi, of how good Hoseok is to him .

A sudden urge overwhelms him and he needs to do something right now . “I have to—I need to—“, he takes a deep breath, “Jimin, can you give me Hoseok’s address?”

Jimin smiles at him, fumbles with his phone. His own phone dings a second later.

“I—Thank you,” he says to no one and everyone. “You know I love you guys, right?”

Taehyung dives across the table to hug him, nuzzles his neck, “I love you, too, hyung!”

“Love you, hyung.” Jimin tells him, fond expression directed at him.

“Damn right, you should. I am a blessing ,” Jin quips and Namjoon laughs.

Jungkook offers him a smile which Namjoon returns. He untangles himself from Taehyung and moves to stand. He does a quick round of good night’s and leaves after Taehyung makes him promise to tell them how it goes after. Namjoon opens his phone and hails a cab.

He reaches the address in about 20 minutes. He gets off in front of an apartment building nearby the school, not too far from his own. He pulls out his phone and dials Hoseok’s number.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s voice is gruff and sleep-ridden. For a second, Namjoon feels bad about having woken him up.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Namjoon? No, it’s okay, I’m—is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yes, everything’s okay. I’m just—” Namjoon takes a second, feels the nervousness catch up to him. Is he really doing this? “I’m kinda in front of your apartment right now? Oh god, I didn’t think this through, I should go—"

“Hey, hey,” Hoseok’s voice on the line soothes him. He hears the sound of rustling on the other line, assumes the other is getting up from his bed by the sound of it. “You’re good, it’s okay. I’ll let you up?”

Namjoon nods, then remembers Hoseok can’t see him, “I—Yes. Please.”

“Okay, give me a sec, I’ll buzz you in.”

After a few short seconds, Namjoon comes face to face with a rumpled Hoseok. He’s wearing a plain white shirt so huge it’s slipping from his shoulder a bit, showing Namjoon a glimpse of the other’s collarbone. His hair is fluffy and sticking up a bit in some places and he looks so soft , Namjoon wants to reach out and touch.

“Hi,” Hoseok smiles up at him.

“Hi,” Namjoon replies, a bit dazed.

“So, uhm, want to come in?” Hoseok moves and opens the door wider to make way for Namjoon. He gestures towards the living room but Namjoon takes his wrist and stops him. Now or never, he thinks.

“I need to tell you something,” Namjoon says hurriedly.

Hoseok moves to face him again, eyes kind and patient while Namjoon collects himself.

“So, uhm, I came here because I wanted to tell you I—” He takes a deep breath.

“I like you.”

Hoseok just stares at him. Blinks. Namjoon scrambles to explain himself, “I, uhm—I know it might be a bit fast, it’s only been a few months and this might be weird because you’re Yoongi’s teacher , and there are so many other reasons, we probably need to talk, but I-I like you. Like more than a friend. Like I see you and I want to hold your hand, and I like how happy you make Yoongi and I feel this, this warmth whenever you’re around and I just—”

Namjoon pauses for a breath, then looks Hoseok in the eye. “I like you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok is still staring at him, his mouth slightly open now. Namjoon is kind of panicking, he doesn’t know what to do. “You don’t have to say it back! Totally no pressure, I just—felt like I needed to tell you? Sorry, this is kinda stupid, I know, if you want we can just pretend this didn’t hap—”

Suddenly, Hoseok’s lips are on his. Namjoon tenses, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, with his body , but then Hoseok’s hand finds its way to the back of his neck and lightly tugs at the hair there. In no time, Namjoon is closing his eyes, and kissing back, sighing into the kiss. Hoseok pulls back way too soon and Namjoon tries to follow after him. Hoseok smiles at that and plants a quick peck on his lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Hoseok says, then plants another peck on Namjoon’s lips. He smiles.

“We should probably talk,” another peck. “I’m still processing this,” and another. “I mean, I’m still Yoongi’s teacher so we need to discuss that,” and another. “What does Yoongi think about this anyway,” and another.

“But, yes, Namjoon,” Hoseok kisses him again, a bit longer this time and Namjoon feels giddy and warm, warm, warm . Hoseok pulls back and looks him in the eye. “I like you, too.”

They stand there for a few moments, just smiling and holding each other, letting this possibility, what all this could be, wash over them. Hoseok breaks the silence after a few seconds, feeling silly that they’re still standing by the door.

“So…do you want some ice cream?”

Namjoon laughs and intertwines his fingers with Hoseok’s, lets himself be lead to wherever Hoseok wants him.