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"i didn't know you worked at night."
namjoon's door doesn't lock. it's an unfortunate thing, though it doesn't bother him as much. there isn't anything of value in his little box, and everyone knows there's even less to find in the little community. besides, there's more satisfaction in robbing someone higher up rather than those at the bottom. a door without a lock isn't a big deal.
he takes off his shoes and slides them next to the table, on top of the small rug seokjin brought over last week. rainy season is coming soon, the oldest had said. a poor excuse for justifying pity, but namjoon did need a rug, so he accepted the gift without complaint. seokjin's eyes lit up like the first time the seven of them celebrated jungkook's birthday together. something akin to anger curls in his guts, but it quickly fades away.
namjoon's shoes knock against another pair. he glances up, zeroing in on the person lounging on the bed.
"where's jimin?" he asks.
taehyung lifts his gaze up from his phone. he's quick to grin, happy to finally have the attention on him. "he's chilling with yoongi-hyung tonight. said he already texted you to let you know."
namjoon slips his phone out of his pocket and tries the power button. he knows it's been dead for hours, but it's instinctive, the way he instantly goes to check. he plugs it in and lays it on the desk. it should be good to go by tomorrow morning, and if he manages the usage better, it won't die out on him again. for now, he'll just have to take taehyung's word for it, and hope that jimin and yoongi are getting along well enough.
"you didn't answer me," taehyung says. he watches namjoon as he tosses his hat and jacket on the table, gaze a little too sharp for how late it is at night. then again, the two of them are always awake at this time. sometimes, namjoon likes to think of nighttime as a haven, just for the them two. "you don't normally come back this late."
"i took another shift at the gas station. you know how it is."
"isn't that illegal?"
namjoon spares him a glance, then resumes his task of rummaging through his pockets. taehyung continues to stare at him all the while, expression steadily turning hard, until the namjoon pulls out a stack of bills. taehyung's gaze drops to something conflicted, almost dangerous, as he focuses in on the money.
"how much?"
"altogether?" namjoon flicks through the bills. "90,000 won."
"you got that from one extra shift?" taehyung asks. when namjoon glances over at him, his eyes aren't wide with disbelief like he thought they'd be. rather, they're calculating, and it feels like he's trying to open every single door in namjoon's head. and for a split second, it feels like he's succeeding. all at once, namjoon feels the rush of shame and anger and disgust collectively rush through him. the longer he stares at the other, the more he feels like he's choking. feels like he can't breathe and that he should vomit and run far, far away.
when he breaks the stare and looks back at his hands, carefully holding the money, he finds that they're shaking.
the dulled colours mix together, blurring in his vision. in an effort to calm down, he starts counting them again. focuses on the numbers flying through his head, throws in a couple equations in there too, tries not to focus too hard on what those equations mean. finishes, stacks the bills in a neat pile, then repeats the process a third time. he does this until the tremor in his hands are gone, and only then does he find the strength to face the other boy again.
taehyung is standing near the door, facing away, rummaging through the backpack sitting under the desk. the younger can't afford to buy a bag in the first place, and rarely spends any money on himself, so namjoon it's just another thing he stole. taehyung has a fascination with never buying anything, but going out to steal what he needs instead. namjoon wonders if everything else in the backpack is stolen goods, too.
almost too cheerfully does taehyung zip his bag and spin around. he waves his hands around in exaggerated movements, reminiscent of the old fighting movies they used to watch back in the day. namjoon has to squint to catch the roll of bandages in one, a bottle of what he assumes is cream in the other.
"your wrist," taehyung says at namjoon's questioning look. "it hurts, right? i saw you taking off your things with your left hand."
namjoon blinks, slowly. "you caught that?"
the other boy simply smiles. "let me wrap it?"
the two of them sit down on the mattress. taehyung rolls up namjoon's sleeve, and even in the limited glow of the moonlight from the window, the irritable red that surrounds his wrist is clear. it's swelling slightly, and namjoon only just swallows back a grunt as taehyung pokes at the area. the other boy doesn't seem to notice, but if he does, he doesn't say anything about it. just proceeds to unroll the bandages and wrap namjoon's wrist.
he eyes the bottle sitting on the on the mattress next to them. "what's the cream for?"
"it's for — " taehyung's eyes flicker up to namjoon's, then away just as quick. "it's for when you're sore, and stuff. the cream helps. i picked it up a week ago, but i haven't used it, so you can have it."
namjoon freezes. his arm goes rigid in taehyung's grip, but the younger keeps wrapping his wrist, keeps his attention pinned on the task at hand. and namjoon wants to ask, wants so desperately to try and pry the words out of taehyung's mouth, but they both know that won't lead to much. only broken little things at the end of the day.
he loves taehyung, with all his heart. he's been able to help the younger, but not in ways that mattered. and after a while, he stopped trying.
"you should be a doctor," he says instead.
the words surprise even himself, and he finds himself mirroring the look of incredulity that taehyung gives him.
"me? a doctor?"
"yeah? what's wrong with that?"
taehyung shakes his head. "nah, nothing wrong with it. but i'm probably not the best person for that job. not with me running around all the time, vandalizing shit and running from the police."
he laughs for a second, like he just said something funny (which, in hindsight, it sort of is. a cold sort irony that namjoon can't pin the origin of). he goes back to wrapping namjoon's wrist.
"you could, though," namjoon tells him. the younger raises an eyebrow. "become a doctor. i think you could do that. patients would love you."
taehyung stays quiet at that.
then, "i wanna work with kids."
"yeah?" namjoon nods. "yeah, i could see you doing that."
"really?"
taehyung's voice is small. a quiet sort of vulnerability that sits in the centre. he doesn't look up at namjoon when he speaks, keeps his eyes focused on namjoon's wrist.
"for sure." namjoon keeps his voice steady, calm. doesn't want the other boy to think he's being anything other than truthful, because he really isn't. "you're good with kids. as long as you don't encourage, like, illegal shit, you'll probably be great at those kinds of jobs."
relief bleeds from taehyung. he's always worn his heart on his sleeve, never one to enjoy hiding away his feelings. he can try to suppress them, but there's always a hint of something that manages to slip through the cracks.
taehyung finishes wrapping the bandages with a smoothness and determination that would put seokjin to shame. namjoon flexes his wrist around. his movement his limited now, but there's a certain kind of comfort that comes with the immobility. it still hurts, but that's to be expected. he raises his arm out, checking over the bandages, admiring them.
"did you clean up afterwards?" taehyung asks.
"condom," namjoon supplies, helpfully. he moves to place the cream and leftover bandages on the table and hurries back to the bed. "i'll drop by the community pool tomorrow to freshen up, if that's what you're worried about."
the other boy hums. "take care of yourself, hyung."
namjoon nods and returns the sentiment. then he sits back a bit and just — looks at taehyung. the others visit his house often, but only just recently. before last month, he hasn't seen them all in years. hasn't heard hoseok's or seokjin's laugh, or seen jungkook and yoongi's smiles, or watched the 95-duo conduct their latest scheme in years, too caught up in himself and his own concerns to make the time or effort to seek them out. they're all guilty of it, really. but for some reason, namjoon feels this inexplicable weight in his chest when it comes to himself.
now that he looks at taehyung, it's more clear; the thin frame, the bags under his eyes, the sharpness of his collarbone that's just below the cusp dangerous. and he is just so, so quiet tonight. so different from the daytime, when everyone is gathered together.
namjoon's mind doesn't usually quiet down. there's all these thoughts and ideas and voices running amok in his head, but tonight, they all mix into one familiar emotion.
it's when taehyung moves to leave does namjoon slip out of his thoughts, reaching his uninjured hand to wrap around the other's.
"stay here tonight," namjoon suggests.
taehyung glances back at him, eyes glassy. distant. but he nods. he breathes out a sigh, releasing something deep from his chest that namjoon doesn't want to put a name to just yet. just in case he's wrong.
taehyung doesn't take his sweater off as he and namjoon slide under the covers. namjoon pulls him closer before his mind can convince him not to, and this time around, taehyung doesn't protest. just goes limp against the tugging until he's pressed up against namjoon, face hidden in the curve of the older's neck. namjoon can feel his breath against his skin, shaky and nervous and terribly afraid of regret. namjoon resorts to holding him a little tighter, cradling him close, because he doesn't know what more he can do.
"hey, tae?"
"hm?"
"you don't think any less of me, do you?"
the skin at the back of taehyung's neck burns hot.
"'s better than peddling."
the following morning, while the younger is still asleep, namjoon leans up and tugs at taehyung's collar. he sees the blue and red and purple that dance across the back of taehyung's neck, disappearing lower. namjoon slips the bottle of cream inside taehyung's bag before he wakes up.