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Namjoon paced back and forth along his living room carpet, a comical frown painted on his face as he peered into the front-facing camera of the video call.
"I'm telling you, Hope-ah!" He flailed his hands around, wildly, before realising that that would defeat the purpose of a video call, facing the camera towards the ceiling, and brought it back to his face. "The guy does it every night, seriously– I've never seen anything like this!"
Hoseok's entire face lit up in a the giggle that bubbled up through his chest, his smile causing Namjoon's own lips to twitch at the corners as he tried, valiantly, to keep his serious expression.
"Joon-ah, my sweetheart, my soulmate– there is no way on Park Jimin's green earth that this dude goes out there every night, it's impossible."
Namjoon flopped onto his couch, letting out a disgruntled noise. "You see, that is where you're wrong. This dude– genuinely even I was confused at first– he goes out, with a pot and a lid and starts banging it, not too loud, mind you, but he bangs it– you're not listening to me."
It was true. Hoseok was not, in fact, listening to Namjoon. Hoseok was cackling, rolling around on the plush white duvet his boyfriends had insisted upon having in their bedroom, the phone camera flashing to his face one minute, and the black-ish grey of a fabric-covered lens. Namjoon shook his head.
Look, he knew that this was a frankly ridiculous situation, but it was something that was truly giving him trouble, and he would appreciate it if Hoseok took him seriously, damn it!
Hoseok took a few minutes to calm down, face still red when he sat up and faced the camera, a grin plastered on his face.
"Okay, he bangs the pot– and then what, Namjoon?"
"I told you! He makes these– I don't even know, these meowing sounds, up and down the hallway, and they're really realistic! I'd not have thought it was a human if I didn't see him wandering past my kitchen window one day with the bloody pot!"
This time, not even Namjoon could keep himself from bursting out into peels of laughter at the end, because yeah, it was pretty funny. Grown man wandering around the apartment block meowing.
"Jesus, takes catboy to a whole other level," Hoseok's voice was almost awed.
"If it makes the situation less insane, I think the guy just has a really wayward cat that he needs inside before he locks the door, or something."
It did not make the situation less insane. Namjoon knew this, because he'd spent many a day turning the situation over in his mind. Why didn't the guy just, Namjoon didn't know, train his cat to come home? Install a cat door? Leave a window open?
Why did he have to wander around calling for the thing– it was a cat! Cats were supposed to be wayward! It wasn't like it didn't have any built-in survival skills!
"I have to come sleepover some time and see for myself," Hoseok hiccuped.
Namjoon gave his head a shake. "With my luck, he'd not do it on that exact day because the cat came home on time, or something."
Namjoon and Hoseok's phone conversations always went on for a while, something Namjoon was grateful for, because often he didn't even realise how much he needed to talk to his best friend. Hoseok's laugh sometimes felt like the answer to all of Namjoon's problems in those moments, and putting the phone down, Namjoon felt lighter than he had in a while.
Light enough, he thought, that he could maybe get up and open his kitchen windows and let the fresh air flow through his apartment while he tried to make scones. Keyword was tried, of course, because for some reason unbeknownst to him, Namjoon somehow found himself lost in the mixtape he was listening to on his headphones, and whoops, wouldn't he know it– a course, black, smokey smell filled his nose and his eyes popped open in horror as he turned to stare at his oven, gentle streams of smoke filtering out of it.
The scones. Fuck.
His hands were opening the oven door and grabbing onto the baking sheet before he could even think, and instantly, the pan dropped out of his fingers as he hissed, sharp stings shooting up his fingertips from the burning metal on his skin. Namjoon had forgotten oven gloves. Of course Namjoon had forgotten oven gloves.
At least the scones were no longer smoking in the oven.
With paining hands, Namjoon turned the oven off, making extra sure that the light was switched off before running his hands under cold water. It was cold water, Namjoon was sure that that was what he was supposed to be doing. What other logical choice was there besides cold water on a burn? He tried to remember the several years of first aid training he'd put himself through, but god, fuck if Namjoon knew right then when all he could feel was the skin of his hand practically melting off.
By the time he stopped feeling like he would rather just never have skin at all, the smoke still hadn't filtered out of his apartment, rather choosing to congregate in his living room in a gloomy tuft. God. He sighed, puttering to open the door to let some more smoke into the hallway, trying not to wince as his blistering skin came into contact with the handle.
That was better. Namjoon was sure that was better. And besides, he lived in the middle of goddamn Hongdae, the worst that could happen was a boozy undergrad stumbling into his apartment after getting lost.
The scones, however, were unfortunately lost to the mishaps of Namjoon's wandering attention span, and he looked mournfully at the hard bricks of dough. Hoseok liked to tell him that he looked a little like a puppy when he did that, and at the memory, Namjoon schooled his face. It didn't even matter, it made no sense that he did that, because it wasn't like anyone was watching.
It wasn't like Namjoon's neighbour would be wandering past any minute and catch Namjoon trying to re-enact any golden retriever scene from an American film. Because Namjoon didn't want his neighbour to wander past. Because Namjoon thought his neighbour was weird.
Or, well, not weird– weird was Namjoon's Ryan collection, or Hoseok's disturbing volume of Snoopy plushes, or Jimin's– well, actually, Park Jimin may have actually been the most normal member of their little friendship trio. Huh. Who'd have thunk.
Weird wasn't–
Meow meow.
Namjoon's head shot up. He looked outside for a moment, seeing that it was still light out, and furrowed his brow in confusion. A clanging sound brought his attention back to the hallway.
Meow meow meow.
Oh god. Namjoon had to have manifested it, there was no way this was just happening, what the fuck. His apartment was filled with smoke and now, in the middle of day time, his deranged neighbour was looking for his wayward cat. Perfect. Absolutely bloody perfect.
Namjoon heard a sputtering cough and a low "What the fuck?" before his open door was being knocked on, three quick raps.
"Hello? Are you okay in there?"
Namjoon wished he could have said something cool and not cringy and ridiculous like of course, what do you take me for? But, Namjoon sighed looking down at his current predicament, Namjoon was Namjoon. And if he was being perfectly honest, he wasn't quite what he'd define as okay.
He pushed himself off of his couch, eternally grateful for the strength pilates gave him in his lower body so he didn't have to use his hands, and puttered to the foyer.
"Hi, sorry about the smoke," he started to say, but Namjoon's mouth grew dry on the words as his neighbour came into full view.
God. Namjoon had a vague idea of what his neighbour looked like thanks to catching sight of him banging his pot through the window one time, but he didn't realise the guy was so hot. Like, pretty-hot. Namjoon blinked, bringing his hand without thought to his neck to check his own pulse, and hissing at the contact on his blistered skin.
"Oh my god," that gravelly voice sounded again, closer, the neighbour rushing forward to grab Namjoon's wrists and inspect his hands. "What the hell did you do to yourself?"
Namjoon thought that if there was a god, he must have somehow somewhere pissed them off royally for this to be his life. Cute neighbour, great, wonderful, awesome. Cute neighbour who wanders around banging pots and meowing? And who also has now seen Namjoon in his prime state of distressed Who-Let-This-Man-Have-An-Adulting-License? Significantly less awesome. Namjoon knew he should have stopped eating meat, damn it.
He cleared his throat with an awkward chuckle, trying his level best to not look hot guy in the eye. "I– I forgot to wear oven gloves."
"And so you proceeded to almost burn your apartment down?"
Now, Namjoon knew how it looked, but he really didn't think that incredulous tone was necessary.
"I mean, yes, but in my defence, I was trying to make scones–"
"How does this make this any better?" the man huffed and shook his head, looking up at Namjoon. "You know what, never mind, just– do you have a first aid kit? These should probably be wrapped up, if only for no other reason besides the fact that you seem to have a habit of hurting your wounds."
Namjoon grumbled something about a first aid kit being in the bathroom, and the guy darted into the little room – without permission, which Namjoon had to respect, because it was ballsy– and emerged with the tiny box that Hoseok had insisted Namjoon take with him upon moving into his own place, citing the time Namjoon microwaved tinfoil as reason enough for his needing at least some form of first aid in the (highly likely) event of a disaster. Again, Namjoon was offended, but he could respect it, so he took the box.
Now, his neighbour was opening it, all but pushing Namjoon further into his own apartment, setting the box onto Namjoon's living room table to get a better gauge at what was inside while Namjoon stood, mouth parted, as the guy murmured to himself.
Namjoon couldn't believe he'd been living so close to the human embodiment of divinity all this time. Not to sound gross, but Namjoon felt a little light-headed, and he was only 30% sure it was because of the smoke inhalation. The other 70%... Well.
The thing was, Namjoon really had a thing for capable guys, and the guy in front of him, taking charge of the entire situation even though he'd never even met Namjoon before– sue him, it was hot! Was the guy probably insane? Maybe. But if Namjoon let a little mental instability get in the way of him getting some good dick, then he would be a disappointment to Jung Hoseok and his two boyfriends, and Namjoon never wanted to disappoint Hoseok.
"Ah, here we go!" the guy looked back at Namjoon with a flourish, brandishing a roll of bandages. "I couldn't find any soothing cream, but your burns don't look that bad, so I can just wrap them up in this and you should be fine!"
Namjoon stared at him for a moment, a little dizzy from the way his gravelly voice drifted into his ears. "I– uh, thank you? Do you– should I sit down or?"
"Oh, you can just put your hands over here," he tapped the little table once. "I'll get you fixed up in no time!"
Namjoon obeyed wordlessly, wondering if perhaps his obedience to this random stranger with a habit of meowing at all hours of the night would maybe get him somewhere a little more interesting than his living room having burns treated. Maybe somewhere involving a bedroom, or a shower if they really wanted to be adventurous. Namjoon scowled at himself, mentally slapping his cheeks. God, what was he, a teenager? Fawning and fantasising about a random dude whose name he didn't even know. Which reminded him–
"My– uh, name? I mean," he cleared his throat, trying to rearrange the words in his brain. "My name– what I mean to say is, I'm Namjoon. Kim Namjoon. You are?"
"Oh!" the neighbour's head shot up from where he was unrolling the bandages. "I'm so sorry, I just barged in here without even introducing myself– Min Yoongi, at your service!"
Oh, how Namjoon wished he didn't have the reaction he did to those words. He blinked back, trying to find air, because the room seemed suddenly devoid thereof, smokey or otherwise.
"Min Yoongi-ssi, thank you for your help," Namjoon tried to say, and was afraid that his voice came out high and airy, but Yoongi just smiled kindly at him before tapping the table once more.
"Alright, give me your hand."
Namjoon handed it over, and watched half in awe at how Yoongi's long, pale fingers gently worked the bandages around his palms, so gently that Namjoon didn't even flinch. When he was done, Namjoon gave him his other one, and blinked at the methodical way the man worked.
Yoongi was slightly shorter than Namjoon, enough that Namjoon could see perfectly over his head when he was bent over Namjoon's hand in concentration like that, the hairs at the top of his head sticking up a little at the winter static. Namjoon could also see further, the way his dark hair petered out into a sparse smatter on a pale neck, the too-big sweater showing the barest bit of back and shoulders.
Maybe it was smoke-inhalation that was the problem. Namjoon really was going to pass out.
"So," Yoongi grinned up at Namjoon once he'd finished with the hand. "What was so important that you burned those scones of yours, Namjoon-ssi?"
"Ah, just Namjoon's fine," he murmured, feeling his ears heat up as the pretty man's attention was fully on him.
"Namjoon..." Yoongi narrowed his eyes. "When were you born?"
"'94, you?" Namjoon's answer came automatically.
Evidently, it was the right answer, because Yoongi broke out into a wide, gummy smile that made Namjoon's heart stop. "You can call me hyung, then– I was born in '93."
"Yoongi-hyung?" Namjoon tried out for a moment, and was glad he did, because Yoongi's smile grew impossibly wider.
"So, Namjoon-ah, tell me– scones? How could you be so preoccupied that you missed that," Yoongi gestured to the black bricks of dough that may have, once upon a time before a sentence in Kim Namjoon's oven, been meant to become scones.
Namjoon pursed his lips. "I mean, it's a long story– I was listening to music?"
"Music." A raised eyebrow, an incredulous smirk. "You were so focused on listening to music that you burned your food?"
"I mean, I've never been the best cook to begin with, so..." Namjoon made a little whoopsie face. "And you know what, you don't have room to judge me, Hyung, you waltz around here meowing like the world is going to end tomorrow if you don't, so–"
Yoongi barked a loud laugh, his eyes lighting up as he shook his head. "Oh god, I'm so sorry– you must thin I'm insane–"
"Just a bit, yeah–"
"I swear I have a good reason."
This time, it was Namjoon's turn to raise an eyebrow. Yoongi sighed. "My cat. Holly, he– he's a bit of a wanderer, but he can't be out at night, because he's very much a housecat, you see, he wouldn't be able to find his way back in if I didn't go fetch him, so I have to call him to come home before I go to sleep each night."
"Have you considered installing a cat door? Leaving a window open?"
Yoongi nodded. "I have! The windows are too high-up, obviously, but I have to get a custom door made, and it'll be a while until it can get manufactured–"
"Custom?"
"He's a little... Portly." Yoongi sighed. "The vet says he's comfortable, but he can't really comfortably fit through a regular cat door, so. Custom."
Namjoon snorted a laugh. So the infamous wayward cat was a round one. Of course he was. "I can respect that," he hummed, shifting on his feet. "You have cat troubles, I have... Basic adulting troubles. We all have our weaknesses."
"We do, but I'm just fascinated by the fact that you literally caused yourself bodily injury over music."
Namjoon's hands flew up defensively. "Hey, I like music!"
"I mean, so do I," Yoongi snickered. "Doesn't mean I've ever burned my hands over it. What were you listening to?"
Namjoon's shoulder's scrunched up almost reflexively, a little hesitant to talk about the music he liked. He knew, sometimes the underground rappers whose soundclouds he tended to frequent were not everyone's taste, and while he was totally not the kind of guy to mould his interests around the guy he liked (Namjoon was, 100%, he wasn't even ashamed of it), he felt a little shy talking about it to the cute man in front of him.
"I– like, rap music, I guess? I was listening to this mixtape, maybe you'll know the artist– Agust D?"
Yoongi got this look in his eyes– a little glazed, maybe? A little shocked, pink mouth parting as he took in Namjoon's words.
"Agust D, you say?" He echoed. "Yeah, I've heard of him."
Namjoon's head shot up, his feet beginning to bounce in excitement. "Really? Oh my god, isn't his stuff amazing? I've been in love with his stuff since the self-titled, but D-2 really blew me out of the water– what's your favourite track of his?"
When Namjoon got excited about something, he tended to babble, and music was Namjoon's most favourite of all things. And meeting someone who also liked the music Namjoon regularly obsessed over– well, sue him. There were a lot of words Namjoon wanted to say.
Yoongi chuckled, a little stilted, before clearing his throat. "I– People? People is definitely one of y top tracks, but honestly, I struggle to pick a favourite. They're all so meaningful?"
Namjoon nodded his head, rough, the excitement buzzing through his veins. "Yes! Each song is just– honestly, they just feel like such a complete unit together, something so undeniably whole, it's amazing!"
"You think so?" Yoongi hummed. "Thank you."
Namjoon's brow furrowed at the word choice, and opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could even formulate one–
Mreowwww.
Yoongi jumped back, Namjoon suddenly becoming incredibly aware of how little space there had been between them, their attention drawing to the hallway.
"Holly?" Yoongi scurried in the direction of the meow. "Holly, what are you– oh my god."
The aforementioned cat, instead of greeting his owner as one would expect, walked right past Yoongi, into Namjoon's apartment, sniffing the air contemptuously before bee-lining to where Namjoon was standing and butted his head against Namjoon's calf. Namjoon was only human. He squatted down to pet Holly's little dark-brown head, listening to his chirrups as Yoongi watched on in confusion.
"Ho– Namjono-ah?"
"Mm?" Namjoon looked up at Yoongi. "This is Holly?"
Yoongi nodded. "Uh, yes? He... Really likes you."
Namjoon shrugged, and went back to petting the cat. "I'm good with animals."
It was a testament to Yoongi's good first-aid skills that Namjoon was even able to use his burned hands at all.
"You certainly are," Yoongi's voice was breathy. "Uh, not to break up whatever thing you have going on there with my cat, but– he kind of needs to come home?"
"Oh!"
Namjoon straightened himself out, dusting his hands off on his knees. "Right, um, thanks? For the bandages and the good company."
Yoongi crouched down, picking the fluffy animal up into his arms. "Um– Don't feel like you have to, but Holly and I have more good company where that came from, if you want? And maybe some not burned baked goods, if you're into that?"
Was Yoongi... "You want me to–"
"Do you want to come over?" Yoongi said hurriedly. "I live just across, and it can't be healthy to sit in a smokey apartment, and I'm kind of worried you're going to hurt yourself, if I'm being perfectly honest."
Namjoon huffed a laugh. He could admit that perhaps he did look a little helpless, hands all bandaged up and scones burned. But hey, if it got him a cute, handsome guy with a cute cat to invite him over for baked goods, Namjoon was not going to complain.
"Sounds like a plan!"
Namjoon shuffled out of his apartment after Yoongi, letting the door click behind him, the sound of Yoongi's gravelly voice mingling with Holly's low meows bringing him a sense of peace he had not known for a while. Namjoon sighed. Yoongi, punching in the code for his own apartment, smiled back at him. He stepped into the little foyer.
Namjoon followed.