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The tip of Yoongi’s left shoe leaves a line where he’s digging into the dirt under his feet with it, gently rocking himself back and forth on the swings. It’s been- oh, it’s been a day, the kind that calls for a very long rant to describe. He’s been sitting on the swing long enough he feels stuck, like he needs to gather all his energy before he even thinks about walking back to his university dorm.
He doesn’t know how he’s still awake. The end of term was awful enough on its own; but then he’d made the mistake of taking up one shift too many at his delivery job, and now his back hurts, and he’s tired, and tonight the air is chilly enough it doesn’t even feel like June. He’s shivering a little in his too-thin jacket, but the alternative is - well.
The alternative is going back to his dorm, and having his roommate smile at him, and ask him how was your walk, hyung in that deep voice of his, dimples showing as he smiles up at Yoongi from where he’s reading on his bed, his face illuminated by the tiny lamp on his nightstand.
Yoongi groans out loud, the sound echoing in the empty park.
Namjoon isn’t the problem. He really isn’t - he can’t be blamed for Yoongi’s feelings. He can , however, be blamed for the way he behaves. He just keeps doing- terrible things. Smiling at him, talking to Yoongi about his favorite artists, being sweet and helpful and a little clumsy, just enough to make it endearing whenever he accidentally knocks something over and frets over cleaning it up.
The first time they’d actually talked, two weeks into their stay in the dorm, had been because of Namjoon accidentally unplugging his headphones from his laptop without noticing, letting Epik High blare from the speakers as he typed his essay with the energy of a man possessed. Yoongi loved the song, but he’d been trying to reorganize his notes into something vaguely comprehensible, and he needed silence for it. He’d tapped Namjoon on the shoulder to catch his attention, pointing at the laptop, and told him hey, I normally wouldn’t mind, I love Epik High, but I really need to focus. Namjoon had scrambled to plug his headphones in again, cheeks red enough and apologizing so many times Yoongi had felt the need to reiterate no, really, I wouldn’t mind, I love that song.
Namjoon had apologized one last time, and Yoongi had thought that would be the end of it - but Epik High had announced a new album only three days later, and Namjoon had jumped up on his bed just as Yoongi had gotten back from his usual walk to the park to tell him Yoongi-ssi, have you heard? New album coming out soon, I can’t wait-
Yoongi had heard, and he’d been very excited, and Namjoon had looked just as excited as him, and before Yoongi could think about it they’d started talking about Tablo’s early work like they’d known each other for years instead of weeks.
That had been only the beginning. The middle looks like Namjoon sharing his favorite books with Yoongi, sending him links to songs he thinks Yoongi might like, smiling at him every time Yoongi goes out for one of his walks whenever the day has been difficult and he just wants to be alone. The middle looks a lot like Namjoon being someone Yoongi could fall in love with, if he’s not too careful.
Sometimes it’s just so easy to imagine - walking back into their room, pushing his face against the collar of Namjoon’s shirt, letting him wrap his arms around Yoongi and staying there until his bones feel a little less worn out. Namjoon looks like he’d give good hugs. He also looks like he wants to touch Yoongi, sometimes: he raises his hand to pat his shoulder, then thinks better of it, stopping in mid-air. Just once, he’d placed one hand against Yoongi’s back to warn him he was walking past while carrying hot coffee, and Yoongi had felt the warm imprint of his palm over his shirt for too long.
The constant proximity is what made it worse, Yoongi has decided. They live together, and they see each other every day, and Yoongi’s heart has refused to cooperate. But he’s going to move out in three days into Seokjin’s spare room, which will be great for his wallet since he won't have to pay for uni dorms anymore, and he’ll still hang out with Namjoon without having to hear him mumble good morning to Yoongi in a rough voice early in the day, when he’s still only half-awake and unable to brace himself for it.
He’s going to be Namjoon’s ex-roommate and his friend and maybe he can try and mold whatever’s in his chest into something else, something more platonic and appropriate. It would be easier, maybe, if he didn’t think about it so much - the weight of Namjoon’s smile, how he’d asked Yoongi if everything was okay when he’d gotten back to the room after work that morning, his voice gentle.
It’s been a tough week, with awful final exams and terrible work shifts and right then, Yoongi had felt like any more kindness from Namjoon would crack him open - and yet he almost wanted him to. He wonders if it feels so terrifying to everyone, the knowledge of someone else being able to peel back every layer to get to the core of you. He wonders if it says more about him or Namjoon that he’s not actually that scared to let him.
He had still needed a moment to breathe. He’d gone on his walk after dinner like he often does, calling out a see you later and avoiding Namjoon’s eyes, knowing he was going to find him awake and reading like usual once he got back.
Except - Yoongi raises his gaze from the tip of his sneakers to the bike lane surrounding the park and he finds Namjoon there, his silhouette illuminated by the streetlights around them. It takes a moment to realize it’s not just his brain conjuring him up, like he’d personally summoned him - but it’s actually Namjoon, out and about in the middle of the night just like Yoongi is.
Yoongi blinks twice, mouth agape, but Namjoon stays, and he’s leaning against a lamppost far enough from him Yoongi can barely make out the corners of his smile, the dimple peeking out. He makes the mistake of meeting Namjoon’s eyes, the small momentum of the swing making him feel like his world is tilting forward - Namjoon is there and he’s looking at Yoongi like that . Like Yoongi is the only thing in front of him worth seeing.
He ignores the way his stomach flips at the thought. He’s almost shivering because of the chilly night air, but his body still makes a valiant attempt to make him blush under Namjoon’s gaze.
“Joon-ah?” he asks, the nickname spilling out of him before he can think twice about it. His voice echoes, and he sees Namjoon’s smile grow bigger as he steps closer.
“Hey, hyung,” Namjoon answers, reaching the swingset where Yoongi is sitting and pointing at the empty swing next to him. “Is this seat free?”
Yoongi nods, trying not to stare, and Namjoon settles in next to him, pushing himself back and forth with his feet like Yoongi had been doing just moments before. The chains of the swings creak a little, not equipped to handle two grown men, but the wind is rustling the leaves in the trees around them and the silence is a comfortable one - the kind they usually share at the end of the day, both of them curled up in their beds and going through their nighttime routines before saying goodnight and turning off the light.
Yoongi still wants to ask - why is Namjoon here, why did he come, is everything alright , but he’s interrupted by a stronger gust of wind and a shiver running down his spine, and that’s enough to spur Namjoon into action.
He immediately goes “Oh, hyung, wait-” and slips off the swing, opening his backpack. The first thing he pulls out is a bundle of grey fabric, and he steps closer to gently place it into Yoongi’s hands before pulling out something else - a convenience store bag that Yoongi can tell from the colors he can see through the plastic is full of snacks.
The bundle of fabric reveals itself to be a hoodie when Yoongi unfolds it. Namjoon’s hoodie, to be exact, one that Yoongi had pointed out looked comfortable one time he’d been wearing it to bed. He’s about to ask why, exactly, Namjoon has handed it over to him, but he gets his answer when Namjoon speaks again.
“You said you liked this hoodie, and I thought you might be cold,” Namjoon says, before Yoongi can even get as far as opening his mouth. He looks almost shy , hiding his eyes under the snapback he’s wearing. “And it’s about to rain, so I brought an umbrella. And these,” he concludes, holding out the convenience store bag. Yoongi takes it, dumbfounded, and when he takes a look inside, all the snacks are his favorite kind.
“I know you didn’t have the best day, and I know you go on these walks to be alone, but - I didn’t want you to get caught in the rain,” he concludes. He looks like he’s keeping himself from saying more, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket, but his lips are still curled up in a smile.
Yoongi can picture him so clearly. Namjoon, digging through the pile of clean clothes he’d brought back from the laundry room and had yet to fold, looking for this specific hoodie just because Yoongi had made an off-handed comment about it once; making a stop at the 24h convenience store on the way to the park just to get Yoongi’s favorite snacks because he’d been paying close enough attention to know that about him.
He takes a shaky breath, clutching the hoodie in his hands, trying to resist the urge to pull Namjoon down by his collar and kiss him senseless.
“Thank you,” is what he actually replies, and he smiles up at Namjoon instead of acting on his instincts. He gets another, bigger smile in return, and he gently sets the plastic bag on the ground and shrugs off his jacket to slip the hoodie over his shirt. It looks big on Namjoon, and bigger still on him, sleeves going way past his fingers - he gets up from the swing to put his jacket back now that he has an extra layer, trying not to breathe in the scent of Namjoon’s laundry soap, and the bottom hem reaches the top of his thighs.
When he looks up again, Namjoon is leaning over, elbows on his knees. He’s holding his snapback in his hands, and Yoongi is both glad and terrified to see his face fully, open and honest and looking at him like-
“What is it,” he asks, because he has no sense of self-preservation, apparently. Namjoon shakes his head, just a little.
“You look cute,” he replies, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. Yoongi scrunches up his face, groaning, and sits back on the swing. He ignores Namjoon’s answering laugh and tries not to think about how sometimes he gets the feeling that maybe if he kissed Namjoon, Namjoon would kiss him back.
He needs something to do with his hands, so he picks out a bag of candy he knows Namjoon also likes from the plastic bag and opens it, taking a few before passing it over to Namjoon.
“I did have a not great day,” Yoongi starts, because Namjoon is right, and they’ve talked about this kind of thing before, and Namjoon has brought him his hoodie and snacks and an umbrella and most importantly, himself. Yoongi wants to talk to him. “But I’m pretty much done. No more finals because the term is over, no more extra shifts because I’ve made enough money to cover rent and the deposit Seokjin’s landlord is asking for, and I’m almost done with packing. I should be relieved, right?”
Namjoon hums, passing him the bag of candy once again. When his fingertips brush against Yoongi’s, they’re covered in granulated sugar.
“But I’m just - tired. And I just can’t wait to feel like I’m actually done, at least for this month, instead of just knowing I am. But I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it, except rest. And maybe eat some more candy,” he tacks on, just to make Namjoon smile.
Namjoon doesn’t disappoint, and when Yoongi turns towards him, he’s ducking his head into his chest and huffing out a laugh.
“Glad I could help, hyung,” he tells him, and he raises his gaze to look him in the eyes, and Yoongi feels warm down to the tip of his toes. “I’m gonna miss you once you move out, you know?”
It’s horrible, how he says these things with the utmost sincerity, like he’s talking about the weather. No consideration for Yoongi’s feelings. He can barely scramble his brain together into something resembling a reply.
“Kim Namjoon, I am not moving to Australia,” he begins, popping another piece of candy into his mouth. “We’re going to be living, what, ten minutes away from each other? You'll get another roommate to tell you when you’re snoring too loud,” he adds on, smiling at Namjoon. He can see his smile falter, just a little, and his eyes drop to where Yoongi is holding another piece of candy close to his mouth. Maybe it’s the late, late hour - maybe it’s everything Namjoon has done for him today, or maybe it's just the weight of Namjoon’s eyes on him. Yoongi keeps going.
“I’m going to miss you too,” he tells him, because it’s true. “But change isn’t always bad, you know?”
Namjoon leans back to run a hand through his hair, fiddles with his snapback, and a few seconds go by before he looks at Yoongi again.
“No, it’s not always bad,” he agrees, staring into his eyes. Yoongi wants to ask him if he can sense it too, whatever it is that’s between them. It doesn’t feel like tension. It feels like - like picking up enough momentum on the swing as a kid to reach the highest point it can go, Yoongi thinks, and he wraps his hand tighter around one of the chains of the swingset. It feels like wondering what letting go would be like, if getting up there already feels like flying.
Namjoon opens his mouth again, but whatever it is that he wanted to add, it’s interrupted by a drop of water. The cloudy sky is finally delivering the rain it’s been promising all day, and Yoongi can feel another drop hit his cheek.
“Good thing you brought an umbrella,” he points out, just to have something to say, as Namjoon jumps up to his feet to take said umbrella out of his backpack. He leans it over towards Yoongi’s direction when he opens it, uncaring of one half of his body being completely uncovered, and Yoongi gathers up the bag still full of snacks and pushes his hands inside the pockets of Namjoon’s hoodie, crowding against him to avoid the rain.
Namjoon is very tall, and very warm, and Yoongi decides that since he’s here - since he’s wearing Namjoon’s hoodie, and they’ve both said they’re going to miss each other, and Namjoon keeps looking at him like that - there’s nothing to keep him from at least trying.
He slips one hand under Namjoon’s arm, wrapping it around the inside of his elbow. He can’t bring himself to look at Namjoon’s face as his fingers press against the fabric of Namjoon’s jacket, and it takes one agonizing moment for Namjoon to respond. When he does, it’s by raising his arm to make Yoongi’s hand slide down his forearm. Yoongi’s stomach drops for the fraction of a second it takes for his hand to drop down and meet Namjoon’s.
“Your hands are cold,” Namjoon tells him, almost a whisper Yoongi can barely make out over the sound of the rain, but he still intertwines their fingers, palm flat against Yoongi’s. He wonders if Namjoon can feel his calluses from playing the guitar, or how dry his skin is - and then he realizes how tight Namjoon is holding on to him, his palm a little sweaty.
He dares to take a look. Namjoon is staring at the empty street ahead of them, balancing his backpack over his shoulder, but his lips twitch, like he’s trying too hard not to smile, and Yoongi wants to kiss him. He's been wanting to kiss him for months, now.
He likes to think of himself as the kind of person who can pick up on signs. Right now, the sign is Namjoon’s hand, still tightly holding on to his own, slipping into the pocket of Namjoon’s jacket.
“So you can warm up,” Namjoon tells him when he meets his eyes, still visibly trying to keep himself from smiling too wide. Yoongi stops walking.
He grips Namjoon’s hand tighter, still inside his jacket pocket, and Namjoon almost stumbles a little as he turns towards him. His thumb brushes along the top of Yoongi’s hand, which is - nice. It’s really nice, but right now -
“Namjoon-ah,” he begins, and Namjoon is holding on too tight to feel Yoongi’s hand tremble against his, but Yoongi just grips even tighter and Namjoon squeezes back, careful not to interrupt. He still makes sure the umbrella covers them both, even if Yoongi has stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk because he can’t bring himself to wait a second longer.
He likes Namjoon. He likes Namjoon so much, and he thinks he might love him, one day, and he’s going to move out in a few days and they won’t get to see each other every day anymore but maybe - if things are changing anyway, maybe they can have this change, too.
“Namjoon-ah, I want to kiss you,” Yoongi tells him, and he can tell the exact moment in which the words actually register. Namjoon’s eyes go wide, and his mouth parts, just the slightest bit, but his hand squeezes Yoongi’s and his breath hitches, loud enough Yoongi can hear.
“Can I?” Yoongi asks, because he wants to know, even if he’s a little scared he won’t hear the answer over the rain and how loud his heart is beating in his chest, feeling the sound right inside his ears.
Namjoon drops the umbrella. It clatters to the pavement and into a growing puddle - Yoongi has no time to care, because Namjoon takes a step closer and then another and then he’s just - there, mouth bare centimeters away from Yoongi’s, letting go of his hand just so he can use them both to cup Yoongi’s face.
“Can I?” Yoongi asks again, barely a whisper between their mouths, and Namjoon replies by pressing his lips against Yoongi’s like he’ll die if he doesn’t.
The rain falling down Yoongi’s neck makes him shiver, but Namjoon’s mouth is warm, warm, warm - one of his hands ends up tangled in Yoongi’s hair, the other cups his jaw, delicate and careful even as he presses closer to Yoongi like he wants to swallow him whole.
Namjoon kisses him like he wants him, and the knowledge runs through Yoongi like lightning. He pushes himself up on his tiptoes just so he can give as good as he’s getting, clutching at Namjoon’s waist to pull him even closer, and their mouths meet under the rain once, twice, enough times he loses count, lost in the feeling - and then Namjoon pulls away, resting his forehead against his, his thumb rubbing circles on Yoongi’s cheek.
“I like you,” Namjoon tells him, his lips a breath away from Yoongi’s. His voice is trembling. “ So much. So much, hyung, you don’t even have to ask-”
“I had to, Namjoon-ah, I didn’t know if you wanted to,” Yoongi replies, a little breathless, and the umbrella is still on the pavement but the rain isn’t falling hard enough to drench them both - just a slight drizzle, some drops falling down the side of Namjoon’s neck in a way that makes Yoongi wants to pull him in for another kiss again.
“Of course - of course I wanted. I just didn’t think you - I never-” Namjoon has a few false starts, but Yoongi can’t bring himself to help him out. He kisses him again square on the mouth, interrupting his rambling, and then wraps his arms around Namjoon’s waist and pushes his face against Namjoon’s neck, because now that he can do this he’ll never miss another chance to.
“I think you’re very easy to love,” Yoongi tells him, mouth against his collarbone, because it’s true, just as Namjoon reaches out to pick the umbrella back up and cover them both once again. He should be more afraid of using the word, maybe, but Namjoon also makes it hard for him to be afraid of anything.
In response, Namjoon makes a noise low in his throat that can only be described as a pained squeak, and he wraps the arm that’s not holding the umbrella around Yoongi’s shoulders, holding him close. They’ll have time to talk about this, tonight and tomorrow and every day after - right now, Yoongi just wants to hold Namjoon close, so that’s exactly what he does.
The rain lets up. They walk back hand in hand.