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“Namjoon and I have been living together for over a decade now.” Yoongi says into the microphone.
They’re filming another video for some American entertainment network, Namjoon doesn’t even remember which one at this point (he thinks it could be Access Hollywood, but they’ve already done four interviews today so it’s hard to keep track). While their translator communicates to the American interviewer, converting Yoongi’s words to English, the two of them share a private smile from where they’re seated. Something soft, tender, and knowing. Just for the two of them.
It carries the heavy acknowledgement of the work they’ve put into nurturing such a friendship for over a decade. On the surface level, it sounds so simple. Namjoon and I have been living together for over a decade, an uncomplicated fact. Straightforward, intelligible, nothing seemingly complex about it.
But it hasn’t always been simple.
During their trainee days, they argued a lot. Their dorm was frequently filled with the sounds of yelling, their loud disagreements reverberating off of the walls for everyone in their general vicinity to hear. They were young, under pressure, and sometimes their competitive natures just clashed. It’s not unexpected or outlandish that it happened, it’s just a part of their relationship that they had to work through to get to where they are now.
They learned to accept their differences, to embrace them. Their differences are part of what makes their friendship so special and unique.
Over the years, they’ve worked hard to build their relationship into something beautiful. A relationship as bandmates, best friends, and something else that the two of them haven’t really put a name to. Something that consists of more. Even though they haven’t acknowledged that side of their relationship yet, it’s an all-encompassing feeling that follows them wherever they go. It’s not pressuring, nor does it bring upon the overbearing feeling of anxiousness, it’s just a comfortable presence of knowing. Something that they’ll both figure out and sort through when they’re ready.
“Wow, over a decade already!” The interviewer says. He smiles brightly. “You two must know each other really well, huh?”
The translator asks the question in Korean and Yoongi nods in understanding.
“Yeah, you could say that.” He responds, his smile growing wider in a way that Namjoon mentally interprets as that’s an understatement.
He and Namjoon don’t take their eyes off of each other. Their shared smile gradually morphs into something a little different. It’s sweeter than the last, filled with warmth and something that looks akin to love.
If there’s anything they’ve learned throughout their decade of friendship, it’s that there’s an endless amount of ways to say ‘I love you’ without using words.
When Yoongi takes the time to reminisce on him and Namjoon’s friendship, one moment in particular sticks out to him.
Years ago, when the group was beginning to gain popularity in America, Yoongi experienced a day where the stress hit him hard.
It was a day filled with multiple interviews, grueling dance practices, numerous outfit changes, and frequent make-up and hair touch-ups. Usually, Yoongi is more than capable of handling their busy schedule. After all, this is what he signed up for. He loves what he does so he can’t complain.
But, he’s only human. He gets tired.
That night, the seven of them arrived back at their dorm at around 1 AM.
They walk through the door with exhaustion weighing down their bones, running through their veins, and clouding the corners of their brains. After everyone has gotten into their beds, Yoongi waits approximately ten minutes before pulling on a baggy sweatshirt and quietly slipping out of the front door, closing it softly behind him, careful not to disturb anyone’s much needed sleep.
He just needs a moment to breathe.
Throwing open the front door of their building, Yoongi steps out onto the pavement and looks up to the sky. It’s pouring rain and the furious drops of water quickly drench his sweatshirt, cover his face in a thin sheen of liquid, and plaster his bangs to his forehead. He closes his eyes, letting the water run over him until he’s fully drenched from head to toe. Sometimes, he just needs a reminder that he’s alive. And letting nature touch you like this, Yoongi thinks, is the best way to feel the undeniable sensation of life seep into your bones.
Eventually, he moves to sit down against the wall of their building, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on top of them. He stares blankly ahead, lets the rain continue to wash away his sadness, his anxiousness, his worries. It feels nice and refreshing, like a much needed breath of fresh air.
He sits for about fifteen minutes until he hears the front door of their building open.
Someone sits beside him, pulling their legs up to their chest to mirror his position. Yoongi doesn’t bother turning his head to see who it is. Somehow, he already knows.
Namjoon remains silent, simply sitting beside him and providing a comfortable presence. That’s one of the things Yoongi loves so much about him. He doesn’t pressure anyone to talk when they’re upset, he just trusts that they’ll open up when they’re ready. It’s comforting to know that there’s no expectations placed on him to immediately communicate his inner thoughts, he knows that Namjoon wouldn’t urge him to do anything he didn’t want to do.
Eventually, Yoongi breaks the silence.
“You’re gonna catch a cold out here.” He says. His voice comes out rough and scratchy from disuse.
He hears Namjoon huff out a small laugh. “Shouldn’t that be my line?”
Yoongi smiles softly. The rain has calmed down to just a light drizzle, a peaceful patter of water droplets hitting the pavement around them. He stares ahead at the parking lot before him, golden street lights glowing in the dark of the night, rain clouds just barely visible in the black sky.
“I’m sorry.” Yoongi says quietly. For some reason, he feels the need to apologize. Namjoon should be inside sleeping with the rest of the boys right now, especially after having such a long day.
“Sorry for what?” Namjoon asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“This.” Yoongi says simply.
“There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Yoongi laughs humorlessly. “There is.” He responds. “I’m kind of a mess.”
“Not a mess. Just human.”
And that—that makes Yoongi’s heart clench in his chest. He lowers his head until his eyes are buried in his knees, closes them tightly in a desperate attempt to stop himself from crying. In a way, it’s exactly what he needed to hear. Just some simple reassurance that he wasn’t ridiculous for feeling this way, that it doesn’t make him ungrateful or unappreciative, that it just means he’s human. And humans get tired and humans need moments where they can just breathe and exist, just as the two of them are doing right now. Simply existing together, sitting side by side, letting the rain sink into the fabric of their clothes and dampen their skin.
He sniffles once, mentally pulls himself together, and then stands up.
For the first time that night, he looks at Namjoon. He looks small in his oversized hoodie, sleepy with red-rimmed eyes, and clothes damp with rain. He’s the strongest and most capable person Yoongi knows, and the thought makes him smile gently.
“C’mon Namjoon-ah,” He says softly, reaching out a hand for Namjoon to take. “Let’s go back inside.”
Namjoon gently takes his hand and stands up, brushing his pants off. Yoongi turns away, beginning to walk back to the entrance of the building, but stops in his tracks when he feels a hand on his shoulder.
Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, he turns around to ask what’s wrong, but the words die in his throat when Namjoon pulls him into a gentle hug.
At first, Yoongi stiffens. He knows Namjoon can feel it, because his hold immediately loosens. The sudden close proximity catches him off guard, throws him for a bit of a loop.
But then, Namjoon says in the gentlest voice he can manage, “You’re not alone, hyung.”
And Yoongi blinks, takes in the words, lets them sink into his skin until he finally understands their meaning, and accepts them as the truth.
He slowly wraps his arms around Namjoon’s waist and holds onto him like his life depends on it. Namjoon reciprocates, tightening his grasp on Yoongi until there’s no space left between them.
Yoongi lets himself cry. At this point, it’s not even from sadness, just pure relief. It’s the body’s expulsion of all the negative emotions he experienced throughout the day: the stress, sadness, anxiousness, all leaking out of him through his tear ducts and joining the rainwater on his cheeks.
Obviously, Namjoon is right. He’s not alone. Six of the most important people in his life are also under the same amount of stress as he is. However, when sadness starts to pull you underneath its dark, murky waters, it’s easy to forget that there are people who love you and want to help you.
Namjoon holds him tightly and patiently, waits until his shoulders stop shaking before he slowly leads the two of them back into the building.
That night, he dries off Yoongi’s damp hair with a towel, carefully strips him of his wet clothes, and dresses him in garments of his own, dry and slightly too big for him, but still comfortable nonetheless.
For once, Yoongi lets himself be taken care of.
Looking back on it now, he thinks that may have been the first time he noticed a stronger feeling toward Namjoon. He didn’t have a name for it back then, as it was merely just a seed at that point. Something new and foregin, but preparing for a growth so all-consuming and beautiful that it would nearly kill him to ever uproot it.
Something that Namjoon immensely appreciates about Yoongi is his exceptional ability to know exactly when he needs a break.
Namjoon knows he has a bad habit of overworking himself until he physically can’t keep his eyes open anymore, overcome with exhaustion almost to the brink of deliriousness. He always says he’ll get more rest, do a better job of taking care of himself, but when he gets too wrapped up in his work, it simply slips from his mind. He can’t help it, he’s a perfectionist with most things he’s passionate about and unfortunately his perfectionism occasionally intrudes on his sleep schedule.
A couple years back, he had another one of those sleepless nights. Namjoon was sitting at his desk in his studio, headphones on and eyebrows furrowed in sharp concentration as he wrote down lyrics on his notepad. He crosses some out, rewrites a few, adds new words, removes old ones, and rubs his face in frustration when he can't seem to get it right.
Sometimes, writing music is a frustrating process for Namjoon. Especially when he’s working on a deadline.
Their comeback is rapidly approaching, looming in the distance. Namjoon is excited, of course, but also immensely stressed out and equally as nervous. He wants this song to be perfect. He can’t stomach the thought of disappointing his bandmates, his best friends. He just needs to finish these lyrics so they can move onto the recording process, that’s all.
So, he takes a sip of the cold coffee sitting on his desk and continues writing scratchy words on his notepad, occasionally switching to his computer to lay down a rough melody on Cubase. He repeats the process over and over again for what feels like hours, but then again, he can’t be entirely sure because he tends to have no concept of time when he gets into a musical headspace.
Namjoon has no idea how long he’s been at work when he suddenly feels a gentle touch on his shoulder.
Regardless of the softness of the touch, Namjoon jumps and pulls his headphones off, spinning around in his rolling chair to see who’s there.
Yoongi stands in front of him holding a cup of tea.
“Hyung,” He breathes out. “Sorry, you scared me.”
“Joon-ah,” He starts. “Do you know what time it is?”
“The time…” Namjoon struggles to comprehend the words. “Um… midnight?”
Yoongi’s eyebrows raise.
“Try 3 AM.” He deadpans.
Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “Shit, I—” He shakes his head. “I must have lost track of time.”
Yoongi hums in acknowledgment and takes a seat on the couch next to his desk.
“You tend to do that,” He says. His voice is so deep, so soothing, Namjoon instantly feels less stressed. “This is for you.”
Yoongi gives him the cup of tea, it’s warm in Namjoon’s palms when he wraps his fingers around it.
“And I’ll take this,” Yoongi grabs the cold cup of coffee off of his desk. “You should not be drinking coffee this late.” Namjoon opens his mouth to retaliate but— “I don’t care if you say it’s decaf, Joon-ah. It’s all the same to me. No coffee at night.” He says, leaving no room for argument.
Namjoon huffs out a laugh and stares into his cup of tea, lightly tracing the rim with his pointer finger.
“Thank you.” He says quietly.
“For what?”
“For the tea. For—being here.” Namjoon says, meeting eyes with Yoongi.
“Of course,” He responds, smiling gently. “Now drink your tea before it gets cold.”
Namjoon does as he’s told, tipping the cup back until he feels the warm liquid pouring down his throat and pooling in the center of his chest. It’s comforting, and it succeeds in making him feel more relaxed.
“What are you working on?” Yoongi inquires.
“Comeback stuff.” Namjoon sighs. “It’s… a lot.”
“It’s a lot.” Yoongi repeats in agreement. He sits up from his spot on the couch. “Can I hear what you have so far?”
Namjoon nods, setting his tea down and grabbing his headphones to gently place over Yoongi’s ears. “It’s really rough so far,” He says, handing Yoongi the sheet of messy lyrics. “This is all I have written. But it’s missing something and it’s driving me crazy because I can’t figure out what it needs, you know?”
Yoongi hums, taking the lyrics from Namjoon and skimming over them, eyes flickering back and forth.
Namjoon rewinds the track back to the very beginning before hitting the spacebar on his keyboard to start it. He watches closely as Yoongi slowly nods his head to the beat and stares at the lyric sheet, most likely attempting to hear the words in his head as the song progresses.
When it ends, he takes off the headphones and hands them back to Namjoon, who takes them and stares, awaiting feedback.
“It’s really good, Joon-ah.” He smiles. “Like, really good.”
His eyes look so honest, Namjoon knows he’s telling the truth. He blushes. Even after all these years, he’s still not immune to Yoongi’s compliments. He’ll always look up to him as a songwriter, a producer, a rapper, a musician, and a person. Compliments mean the world coming from him.
“Thank you,” He smiles back. “But it’s missing something, right?”
And then, Yoongi launches into feedback mode. Namjoon knows him well enough by now to know that that’s how he operates. Compliments first, constructive feedback second. He never treats Namjoon like he’s beneath him or like he’s superior when it comes to musical knowledge, he just gives his honest opinions and lets Namjoon do what he wants with them. Grants him the ability to have full artistic freedom without any judgment. Namjoon really loves that about him, always has and always will.
After they’re done with their discussion, they make a few minor edits to the lyrics and the rough beat on Cubase. It’s nothing too drastic, just a couple changes to push Namjoon in the right direction when he continues working on it the next day. When they finish, Yoongi stands up and pulls Namjoon to his feet along with him.
“Come on,” He urges. “We’re going home now.”
“But—”
“Nope,” Yoongi shakes his head, already beginning to walk to the studio door. “It’s late, Namjoon-ah. You need sleep, we both do.”
Namjoon feels a little guilty. “I’m sorry, hyung. You should be sleeping instead of—”
“Hush,” Yoongi says. “None of that. I came because I wanted to, okay? Don’t feel guilty.” He waits for Namjoon to nod before continuing. “Plus, someone was going to have to forcefully pry your body away from this studio anyways. Everyone knows I’m the best man for the job.”
Namjoon lets out a laugh. “Are you now?”
“I am,” Yoongi says confidently, smug smile on his face. “With the combined powers of my persuasion skills and my delicious tea, you become increasingly more willing to follow my commands.”
Namjoon throws his head back with laughter, feeling significantly lighter than he has all day. “Whatever you say, hyung.” Then, he yawns.
Yoongi shakes his head, places his hand on the small of Namjoon’s back and leads them both out of the studio, turning the lights off and locking the door on his way out.
“The song will be there tomorrow. You can work on it with a clear head and look at the lyrics with fresh eyes, yeah?”
“Okay,” Namjoon breathes out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Okay.”
“Good,” Yoongi says, pleased. “C’mon now, time to go home.”
Namjoon thinks a lot of his lyrics are written about Yoongi, a lot of his melodies stem from him, and a lot of his musical inspiration comes from him. He’d always wondered what it felt like to have a muse. Now, he supposes he knows.
Namjoon isn’t exactly a huge fan of physical affection.
He’s never been a particularly touchy person, and his friends and family have always respected that.
However, he’s different when he’s with Yoongi.
Occasionally, when they all arrive back home after a long day, Yoongi will crawl into bed and fall into a deep sleep. Minutes later, or sometimes hours, he’ll wake up from the feeling of the mattress dipping behind him. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know who it is.
“Joon-ah?” He whispers softly. His voice is deep and scratchy from sleep.
“It’s me,” Namjoon confirms.
He lays on his back at first, staring at the ceiling and blinking tiredly. Yoongi smiles even though he can’t see him. Sometimes Namjoon is hesitant to take initiative with cuddling. He’s not really a cuddler, doesn’t really have much experience with showing love or comfort through the means of physical affection. He doesn’t exactly know where to start.
Yoongi rolls over and scoots closer to him, cracking his eyes open to stare at Namjoon’s side profile where he’s still looking up at the ceiling.
When Namjoon crawls into his bed, it’s usually for one of two reasons. Reason number one is that he had a bad day and he can’t sleep. Customarily, Yoongi will talk him through it until he clears his head and falls into a blissful slumber, sometimes it takes hours, sometimes minutes, but Yoongi doesn’t keep track. He places Namjoon way above sleep on his hierarchy of things that are important to him.
The second reason, well, Yoongi isn’t really sure about that one.
Some nights, Namjoon gets into his bed, and when Yoongi turns around to meet eyes with him, he’s smiling. No trace of sadness or stress detectable in his eyes, just soft, tired happiness.
He doesn’t do this with any of the other boys. Yoongi feels kind of special because of it.
Tonight, however, he figures Namjoon is here because of reason number one. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks up at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought.
“You wanna talk about it?” Yoongi questions softly, brushing his knuckles up and down Namjoon’s arm comfortingly.
Namjoon hums. “I’m okay.”
Yoongi nudges him with his knuckles. “Come on, I can practically hear you thinking from over here.”
Namjoon huffs out a small laugh, finally turning his body to face Yoongi. They lay side by side like opposing parentheses, two halves that make a whole.
“They’re not bad thoughts. Just regular thoughts.” He says quietly.
“Regular thoughts?”
“Yeah, just thinking. It’s nothing bad, I promise.” He assures.
Namjoon is a very introspective person. He’s always self-analyzing and questioning his own opinions, searching for new viewpoints and remaining eager to obtain new knowledge. Throughout all the years that Yoongi has known him, his thirst for knowledge has never dulled a bit.
“You’re sure?” He asks, just in case.
“I’m sure,” He nudges Yoongi with his own knuckles, a playful smile appearing on his lips. “You know I’d tell you if they were bad.”
“Okay, okay,” Yoongi says, smiling back. “I believe you.”
When there’s no more words left to be spoken, Yoongi scoots over and wraps his arms around Namjoon, pulling him into his chest.
A brief moment plasses before Namjoon reciprocates, slinging an arm over Yoongi’s waist and burrowing his face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, letting out a deep sigh.
Yoongi reaches up to card his fingers through Namjoon’s hair, smiling when he feels the younger boy tilt his head into the touch.
“Goodnight, hyung.” Namjoon whispers, barely audible. Yoongi can feel his warm breath softly brush over his collarbones when he speaks.
“Night, Joon-ah.” Yoongi whispers back.
His chest aches. Not in a bad way, but in an overwhelming way. He has so many feelings that he doesn’t quite know what to do with them all.
Before he can dwell on it, he falls into a blissful sleep with Namjoon wrapped up in his arms.
When the rest of the boys wake up the next morning to find Namjoon’s bed empty, nobody will question it. They’ll already know where he is and who he’s with.
One day, Namjoon dyes his hair pink.
It’s a spontaneous decision, but he really wants to surprise their fans with this next comeback. Pink hair is one way to do that, he thinks.
When he walks back into their dorm, he’s in the middle of toeing his shoes off when he hears multiple gasps.
“Oh my god,” Jimin is running towards him, the rest of the boys sitting on their couch with wide delighted eyes. “Pink?” He practically shrieks.
“Pink,” Namjoon confirms, laughing at Jimin’s shocked expression. “Do you like it?”
“Hyung, like is an understatement.” Jimin says, reaching up to run his fingers through his freshly dyed locks.
Taehyung and Jeongguk come barreling over next, joining Jimin in touching his hair. He hears a chorus of looks so good and so pretty, hyung. He laughs from underneath their touches, eventually gently batting their hands away playfully.
“Okay, okay, thank you guys.” He’s blushing. “I’m glad you like it.”
“We love it.” Taehyung corrects, ruffling his hair one last time before plopping back down on the couch.
“You look good, Namjoon-ah.” Seokjin pipes up from his spot on the center cushion, Hoseok nodding his head in agreement from beside him.
“Thanks.” Namjoon says again, his face a shade of brilliant red from all the praise.
However, Yoongi is silent. He looks a little shell-shocked from where he’s sitting on the far end of the couch.
Everyone else seems to notice too, because suddenly there’s six pairs of eyes settled on Yoongi.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin prompts. “Doesn’t Namjoon-hyung look so good?” Namjoon thinks he detects a hint of teasing in Jimin’s tone, which is, well—a little confusing.
Yoongi blinks, seemingly snapped out of his reverie. He shakes his head almost as if he’s clearing it, recuperating himself.
“You look amazing, Joon-ah.” He says honestly, smiling.
Jimin snickers and the rest of the boys look as though they’re trying to stifle giggles of their own. Namjoon truly doesn’t know what’s so funny. Is he missing the punchline?
“Thank you.” He says for what feels like the hundredth time that afternoon, smiling bashfully.
“Hyung, I thought you said you weren’t going to go pink ever again?” Jeongguk questions. He’s curled up on the couch, resting his head on Jimin’s shoulder comfortably.
“Oh yeah, you did say that.” Hoseok says, nodding in recollection.
He shrugs his shoulders.
“People change.” Namjoon says.
The room breaks out in laughter and Namjoon smiles in response, shuffling across the floor to sit beside Yoongi on the couch.
When the rest of the boys resume the conversation they were having before Namjoon arrived, Yoongi scoots closer to him until their thighs are pressed together.
“You look really, really pretty, Joon-ah.” He says softly, a light blush dusting his cheeks.
Namjoon’s stomach fills with butterflies, his face burning red again.
“I—Thank you.” He breathes out, eyes wide from the unexpected compliment.
Yoongi grins and reaches up to card his fingers through Namjoon’s hair a few times, fixing the out of place strands that were messed up from Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk’s hands.
From across the room, Taehyung watches them with a knowing smile on his face.
Namjoon and Yoongi don’t even notice.
It finally happens on the day of their 11th anniversary of living together.
On the evening of November 13th, Yoongi hears a light knock on the door of his studio. Slipping his headphones off, he rolls around in his chair to face the door.
“It’s open,” He calls out.
The door opens and Namjoon walks in awkwardly, very evidently hiding something behind his back.
They stare at each other for a moment.
“What’s going on?” Yoongi asks suspiciously.
Namjoon’s eyes widen. “What? Nothing!” He laughs nervously. “Nothing is going on. Nothing at all.”
Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “Okay… then what are you hiding behind your back?”
“Uh—” Namjoon’s face turns red. “Okay listen, this might be a little stupid?”
Yoongi smiles, leans back in his chair. “Continue.”
Namjoon closes the studio door behind him. “So,” He starts. “It’s November 13th.”
“That it is, Joon-ah.” Yoongi grins, amused.
“It’s been 11 years since we started living together.” He blurts out.
Yoongi opens his mouth to tell him that he knows, that he was planning on surprising him with a little gift of his own tonight, but Namjoon cuts him off.
“I got you something,” He says. “It may be a little too much, I don’t know. But it felt right.” Namjoon pulls a large bouquet of flowers out from behind his back, extending his arms towards Yoongi, who stares at it in shock. He can feel the color slowly drain from his face.
“Take them please, they’re yours.” He urges. Yoongi complies, slowly taking the bouquet into his hands, the plastic wrapping crinkling underneath his fingers as he brings it closer to his nose to inhale the sweet scent. He looks up at Namjoon, who is still blushing and nervously wringing his hands together in front of him.
“They all have meanings,” Namjoon continues, stepping closer and using his index finger to point at each flower. “Like um, the angelica flowers stand for inspiration because you inspire me, those ones in the back are admiration, gratitude, and friendship, because you’re my best friend, you know? Oh and the blue hyacinths stand for constancy. And the heliotropes—” He cuts off abruptly.
“The heliotropes?” Yoongi questions softly, not wanting to make Namjoon more nervous.
“They stand for eternal love and devotion.” Namjoon stammers out. His face is practically on fire at this point.
Yoongi feels his heart stop.
“I know, I know it’s a lot,” Namjoon laughs humorlessly. “But it’s—it’s how I feel. And I know we haven’t talked about it, it being whatever we have going on between us, and maybe I’ve completely imagined the entire thing. Which, okay, that would really suck and it would also make this confession a lot more awkward than it already is but—” He takes a deep breath, stabilizes himself. “I love you. More than a friend. You probably already knew that, but I’m telling you anyway. Because words are important.”
Yoongi is pretty sure he’s staring at Namjoon with his jaw slightly agape right now. He quickly closes it and blinks a couple times, attempting to collect his thoughts and form a coherent response that isn’t just mindless gibberish.
Of course he loves Namjoon back. He thinks he’s loved him ever since he met him, in a way. Over the course of a decade, that love has changed and morphed into something vastly different, but just as beautiful.
There has always been something special between Yoongi and Namjoon. A spark between them that ignited as soon as they met, a special connection that could never be severed.
He has loved Namjoon for a long, long time. But with their busy schedule, he never really got around to confessing, didn’t really feel the need to because he already liked how things were between them and he didn’t necessarily mind taking it slow. He always felt that Namjoon loved him the same way that he did, there was never really any concern in his mind that he didn’t. It was an unspoken acknowledgement that the two of them loved each other more than friends. They could both feel it.
However, in the heat of the moment, in the middle of a vulnerable confession, he supposes there might be a second where sudden doubts are birthed. Even if those doubts aren’t rational, they appear anyway, which explains why Namjoon looks so incredibly anxious.
With Yoongi’s lack of response, Namjoon appears to become more nervous.
“The heliotropes made it weird, didn’t they?” He whispers, panic visible in his eyes. “I’m sorry, the lady in the shop was very persuasive and she told me to just go for it, and I thought, you know what? Why not? But—I can take them out if you want, it’s not a big deal, hyung—”
“Can I kiss you?” Yoongi interrupts.
“Can you—” Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “I—Yes. You can definitely do that.” He stammers out.
Yoongi leans forward, wraps the arm that's holding the bouquet around Namjoon’s waist, and brings the other hand up to cradle his cheek. He dips his head in to close the remaining space between them, gently brushing Namjoon’s bangs out of his eyes when he presses their lips together.
Namjoon’s lips are soft and inviting. He kisses just like he speaks: gently, carefully, and filled with care. He thinks he can taste a hint of strawberry lip balm when he tilts his head to get a better angle. It’s sweet, chaste, and unhurried, and Yoongi’s head spins when he feels Namjoon’s arms wrap around his waist to pull him impossibly closer.
When Yoongi pulls back, he rests his forehead on Namjoon’s and just breathes for a few moments. Namjoon opens his eyes, brings a hand up to hold Yoongi’s face and brushes his thumb tenderly across his cheekbone. His eyes flicker up and down, like he can’t decide if he should match his gaze or go in for another kiss.
“I got you something too.” Yoongi whispers softly.
“You did?” Namjoon asks, pulling back slightly.
“Mhm,” Yoongi unwinds his arm from around Namjoon’s waist, continuing to grasp the bouquet in his left hand. He walks to his desk and stands in front of the wooden cabinets. His hand hovers over the handle of the drawer. “You know, it’s pretty ridiculous how similar we are sometimes.”
“What do you—oh my god.” Namjoon cuts off abruptly when Yoongi opens his desk drawer and pulls out a bouquet of his own, sheepishly walking over to hand it to him.
“Great minds think alike, right?” Yoongi grins, a light blush dusting his pale cheeks.
Namjoon has one hand clasped over his mouth to mask his shock as the other one holds the bouquet in awe.
“Hyung, are those—”
“Heliotropes? Yeah, I got you heliotropes.”
Namjoon looks like he might burst into tears, and Yoongi’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. God, he loves him so much.
“Eternal love and devotion,” Namjoon breathes out, so quietly that it almost seems as though he was talking to himself. “So you love me too?”
Yoongi blinks. “Joon-ah, of course I do? Did the kiss not convey that?” He questions in disbelief, but anyone can hear the fondness underlying his tone.
“I mean, yes. But I just wanted to make sure.” Namjoon says sheepishly.
“I’ve loved you for years, I thought I made it pretty obvious.”
“I always felt like we both loved each other in the same way, but we never talked about it so I didn’t want to confidently assume anything.” Namjoon says quietly.
“I know, this was long overdue.” Yoongi steps forward and cradles Namjoon’s cheek in his free hand, tightening his grasp on his bouquet in the other. “But sometimes ‘I love you’ doesn’t always have to be said through words. It can be shown, too. We’ve been showing each other for years now, Joon-ah.”
“Oh,” Namjoon breathes out. “Hyung, that’s so beautiful,” He says in awe, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I mean, it’s very true. But it’s nice to hear it in words too, you know?”
“I am head over heels in love with you, Kim Namjoon. How’s that for words?” Yoongi asks, shuffling forward until their foreheads are pressed together again.
Namjoon blushes underneath his hand. “I’d say that’s pretty perfect.”
“Good, because I’m gonna tell you that every day from now on. To make up for lost time, of course.” And before Namjoon can respond, Yoongi closes the distance between them once again.
With bouquets clutched in each of their hands, they smile into the kiss.
They had done enough showing. Now, it was time to do some telling as well.