Archive of Our Own ^beta

By the way everyone's eyes kept flicking towards the empty seat at the dinner table, Seokjin knew they were all thinking the same thing, but no one was willing to bring up the elephant that was the gaping hole left by Namjoon's absence. For the third time that week. And it was only Tuesday. Ridiculous. Even Yoongi had still managed to crawl out of his pit (i.e. The Genius Lab) once he got the message in the group chat that the food was heading for the stove! Though that was only because Taehyung had been the one to send the message—no one had any doubts about that.

"I'll talk to him when I head back out," the hermit said. Seokjin wasn't sure if Yoongi was saying it to be heard or as a promise to himself, given how quietly he spoke.

"You—" Seokjin jabbed a finger into the rapper's shoulder, despite a frustrated Hoseok sitting in between them (he just wanted to eat in peace for once), "—are not going back out. You've been cooped up in that box of yours for almost three days with barely so much as a piss break. You are going to stay in the dorm for the rest of the night, at least, and socialise for a change. The kids miss seeing you around, and I know Taehyungie has something he wants to talk to you about."

They all pretended not to notice the way Taehyung's face now matched the shade of his ruby hair as he slurped at his stew obnoxiously loudly, as if he somehow thought those disgusting noises would help divert the attention away from him instead of grabbing every piece of it.

"The kids miss me or you do, hyung?" Yoongi mocked. Seokjin went to retaliate by picking up the tea towel at the side of his plate before it was snatched out of his way by a glaring Hoseok.

"I'm not gonna be collateral damage in your petty domestic, thank you very much."

"Well, someone has to make sure Namjoon-hyung's okay," Jeongguk muttered, returning the conversation back around to the real issue at hand. "I mean. . .I—"

"And someone will do just that," Seokjin interrupted, knowing exactly where that sentence was heading, "But that won't be you. I'm taking him some leftovers and am not leaving his box without him." He paused for a moment, watching Jeongguk sulk at having his initial plan thwarted. "And me being gone means I expect the dishes to be done by the time I get back, because I'm not going over there to deal with Joonie just to get back here and have to deal with all that mess."

"Not it!" Jeongguk and Jimin hollered in unison, high-fiving each other for the jinx.

"Don't make me put Hoseok in charge of you all."

"Yah! Don't drag me into this! Besides, you're the one who made that much mess!"

"Exactly! I cooked—you're all welcome by the way—so I shouldn't have to clean up!"

"That's—"

"Taehyungie and I will do it," Yoongi volunteered before things got too heated. A look of betrayal twisted the younger's face as Yoongi turned to him. "And then you can talk to me about whatever it was. How's that sound?"

Seokjin tried to bite back a smile (and a giggle), amused at the knowledge Yoongi didn't have a clue what he was setting himself up for and how handling delicate dinnerware wasn't the best idea, given the conversation they were about to have. He was almost sorry that he was going to have to miss the live show. Oh, well. It wasn't any of his business, at the end of the day, and he was many things but prided himself on none of those things being a meddler. Not a real one.

It was another half an hour before he found himself stood outside the Rkive. Seokjin knew the code to get in—the date Yoongi moved into the BigHit dorms (just as Yoongi's code was the date Namjoon moved in, ever the secret sentimental ones of the group). But something in the depths of Seokjin's gut told him barging in without so much as a warning text that he was on his way wasn't the best move. There was a reason Namjoon was acting so strangely lately, whatever that reason was. He had to tread extra carefully.

After a few soft knocks against the front wooden panel, Seokjin cooed the rapper's name a few times, leaving a beat or two between each one so there was time for a response. A part of him was anxious that Namjoon would be worried about having missed another family meal and was hoping to avoid the backlash until tomorrow when it would be brushed aside like the other times had been. Seokjin wanted to make sure he knew he didn't have to be worried about it. It wasn't like they weren't together all day, every day anyway.

"Come on, Namjoon-ah. Open the door for hyung, hm?" Seokjin said in a sing-song voice as he knocked again. "I even bought a massive meat selection from that food truck you like so much on the way over here. And I made sure they left out all the seafood. Broke my heart to do so but the things I'll do for the youth of today. Be proud of me."

Still no response.

"Alright. Well, I'm coming in whether you like it or not. Consider yourself officially warned."

For the dignity of everybody involved, Seokjin had a sudden thought and prayed with all his might that Namjoon was in this room alone. There had been more than a few times before when that hadn't been the case. People were still deeply scarred. Namely Seokjin.

"Stop being so dramatic, Jeongguk-ah. Just because you wanted to be the first person hyung banged against his new desk."

"Exactly, Jimin-hyung! I feel cheated out of my most precious life goal! At least tell me how it was! You owe me that much for doing me dirty like this!"

"Will you idiots please shut up and find me another bottle of bleach? I can still see the outline of Namjoon's bare ass when I blink."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Shut your mouth, Jeon Jeongguk!"

"I don't know, hyung. He does have a point. I can confirm that ass is really something. . ."

"I hate both of you. All of you. Every single one of you."

"Hyung! I found the bleach!"

"Every single one of you except for Jung Hoseok, the light of my life."

As Seokjin slowly crept inside the studio, he was pretty sure there was no one else in there. He wasn't even sure if the tenant himself was in there. All the lights were off, every monitor was switched to black, and there was not a single sound. The first assumption was Namjoon had taken a nap, but the ground was still from the thunderous snores expected if he were asleep, so that ruled that possibility out straight away.

Seokjin was about to call his name again, just to be certain the place was empty, when he heard it; the quietest, most agonising sniffle he'd ever heard in all his years as an Earth citizen. Using his phone as a light source Seokjin guided himself around all of the furniture and zigzagged through all of the toppled-over figurines that usually decorated the studio. Based on the amount scattering the floor there couldn't have been many left on the shelves!

This was not the best sign.

And then—oh. There he was. Curled up in a too-small ball for a man his size with his head buried between his knees and arms wrapped securely around his legs, hands clutching the fraying material of his t-shirt. Seokjin's heart almost shattered at the sight. He heard Namjoon mumble something incoherent and was about to ask him to repeat it until the giant lifted his head.

"Wanna be alone." His voice was gruff and hoarse, deeper than usual, which was saying something. Probably from the crying his puffy bloodshot eyes and damp, glistening cheeks gave away had occurred some time during the last few hours.

"And I want to make sure my sweetheart's okay." Seokjin knew Namjoon couldn't see him smirking too well, but it was still worth it. He knew. "Guess which one of us is going to win."

"Go away, hyung."

"Once I've seen you eat something."

"Not hungry."

"Not bothered."

"Hyung!"

"Namjoon-ah!"

"Go—You're such a child!"

"Thank you."

This wasn't the first time Namjoon had been acting this petulant. Wasn't even the first time in the last few days. Seokjin already had a hunch what was going on based on his bratty attitude alone—bad day at the office. Except it had been a lot of bad days recently.

"So. Tell me, how's your song coming along?" Seokjin asked as he knelt in front of his friend and began unpeeling his too-long stiffened limbs in an attempt to start getting him to relax. He knew it wouldn't be that easy, not even close, but it was a start.

"Sucks." He tried to ignore the way Namjoon's bitten-raw bottom lip was wobbling as he kept his head ducked down. "I suck, hyung. I'm so stupid. I can't. . .I suck. So bad."

Seokjin began carding a hand through the mop of unkempt dark blue hair, no doubt having been ragged around by frustrated hands. Another tell-tale sign of a bad day. "You don't suck, babe."

"I do. I suck," Namjoon repeated, sounding exhausted yet angry. "S'okay, though. Least I can admit it, right?" He tried to push Seokjin away from him but ended up curling his quivering hands into the scruff of the singer's shirt and tugging him closer. "Suck. I suck so bad."

"No you don't," Seokjin soothed. They were going to be here a while, he could tell, but he didn't mind. Namjoon had spent countless hours talking the other members out of their own heads, so Seokjin was happy to sit for double that time to do the same for him.

"Yes. Suck. Bad. So bad."

"Nope."

They were quiet for who knows how long. Seokjin continued trying to ground Namjoon by stroking both hands through his hair and massaging his shoulders and down his arms where he'd pat his knees and draw small shapes against the tanned skin through the rips with the very tips of his fingers. He knew Namjoon appreciated softness the most.

Eventually Namjoon sighed. The sound was almost startling, considering the duo were still sat in the dark and had spent more of that time coated in an eerie silence than they had speaking, but Seokjin took it as a cue and turned the torch on his phone back on. He almost wished he hadn't as seeing his friend so upset made him feel awful.

"Mostly suck."

"Still a no." Seokjin reached up to the counter for the bag of meat and veggies he'd brought with him (original dinner leftovers be damned) and sat it next to Namjoon, the handles now untied so it stayed open. The room was small and already starting to fill with the smell of the greasy food to the point it was almost too much.

"Kind of suck," Namjoon murmured.

"Nope."

"Suck a little."

"Nuh-uh."

"Can you just agree with me for once?"

"Gladly." Seokjin was smirking again. "When you say something worth agreeing with."

"I hate you."

A blasé shrug. "I've heard worse from trying to wake the maknaes up in the morning, and they meant it more. Now come on, if you want to be alone then I told you, you have to eat."

That was how they ended up as they were now; Namjoon sat on the edge of one of his desks, music equipment pushed to the back against the wall and Seokjin sat on the swivel chair between his legs with Namjoon's (freezing cold) feet perched on either side of his thighs as he slowly twisted the chair from side to side. The action seemed to be relaxing for them both.

"It was a bad day," Namjoon said after he swallowed his latest mouthful of beef. "Really bad."

Seokjin nodded in understanding. "Those happen, love. It's okay to have them, to have more than one. Thank you for telling me." The words hung thick in the air, as if they'd been offered in condolence, and it was up to the recipient whether or not he was willing to accept or ignore them.

Namjoon frowned as though he was still contemplating on that.

"I'm not bad?"

"No," Seokjin said firmly, his arms suddenly tight around Namjoon's calves, as if that would help prove his point. "No, you are not bad. Not even a microscopic amount. You're an idiot and messy and, for someone so clever, have an atrocious memory with almost as bad time-keeping as Jimin. But you are not bad. My babies could never be bad."

"But today was bad. Bad week, hyung. Bad everything. Got nothing." He smacked a clenched fist against the left side of his chest. "Nothing works anymore. It's gone. It's all gone."

"It's okay," Seokjin whispered, resting a hand on top of the fist that was now turning white. "That's okay. It'll come back again, it always does. It's okay if it's quiet at the minute. That doesn't mean you're broken or you don't work anymore, Joonie. Doesn't mean that at all."

"Feels like that."

"I know it does right now. But has hyung ever lied to you before?"

He wasn't impressed by the nod he received.

"Told me you couldn't sing when we met, but I cried the first time I heard you sing 'Autumn Outside The Post Office'. Told me Yoongi-hyung was already awake when you asked me to get a jumper for you a few weeks ago, but he wasn't and I woke him up looking through your wardrobe and he threw one of your Super Mario figurines at my head. And it hurt. Told me you would rather do a whole concert in Taehyungie's old language than ask for no seafood from Mr. Lee's, but there's none of it here now, so you did ask him. Told me—"

Seokjin squinted his eyes, the sight of which cut off the latest speech.

"You're lucky you're cute or you'd be getting one serious ass whooping right now, Kim Namjoon. Learn when questions are rhetorical."

"Sorry."

"You will be. Ungrateful brat. All I do for you and this is the thanks I get?"

Namjoon shook his head. "Not ungrateful."

"Good." Seokjin smiled at him. Then, with the hand still wrapped around Namjoon's fist, he pulled himself forward and pressed a couple of soft kisses against the left side of his chest. He felt a bit silly, given their awkward angles, but the sentiment was there.

"What're you doing?" Namjoon was frowning again when Seokjin looked up.

He just smiled.

"Making it work again."