Work Text:
Tick tock, tick tock.
The sound of the clock seems to boom in Jungkook’s ears. He scowls heavily at the pot of soup on the stove that, having boiled too long, has reduced by far too much. He can’t bring himself to stand up and add more water to the pot, though; he doesn’t feel like it. He feels tired.
And really, he tells himself, he has no right to feel tired. He had gotten up this morning to the bed being empty (again), gone to a yoga class that one of his boyfriend’s coworkers had recommended, done some grocery shopping, and had come back home to watch TV for an hour or so before he started cooking. That had been nearly three hours ago, and he’d been sitting here in the kitchen with his phone and the pot since then, waiting.
It’s really not fair for him to be annoyed. His boyfriend Namjoon works extremely long, tiring hours at his new office job. It’s an excellent job, one that means that the two of them finally had the financial means to move to a much nicer apartment (their first official apartment together), that means that Namjoon was putting his degree to good use, that means that he’s fulfilled and happy in a job that stretches his mind and and uses his talents. It’s what he deserves, and Jungkook had been really happy for him when he got it, and had promised Namjoon he didn’t care that they had to move three hours away from their home and their friends.
What Jungkook hadn’t counted on was how much things would change.
When they started dating, Namjoon was a graduate student finishing up his degree, and Jungkook was just starting to get into gaming and streaming as a lucrative activity. Namjoon had always been busier than Jungkook, but he had always made time for him; first when they were friends, when Namjoon promised Jungkook - an exhausted, highly anxious burnt-out college student - that his door was always open to him and he always had a friend to confide in if he needed one; then, when they were in that pre-dating stage and Namjoon took Jungkook’s breath away with his attentiveness, the way he slashed through his busy schedule to make sure Jungkook knew how much he cared about him; and then that year before they moved for Namjoon to take the new job. That had maybe been the best year of Jungkook’s life, he thinks.
All of that changed when they moved. It hadn’t been a gradual change, either, as one might suspect. When they first moved, Namjoon’s job had called him in a week earlier than he’d expected and had asked him to start working on a project that would involve extra hours, and Jungkook had promised Namjoon he’d take care of the unpacking and just told him to go, because it was just one project, and it’d be over in a few days, right?
It hadn’t been over in a few days. It had stretched into weeks, and then was followed by another project, and then yet another, until it was verging on four months of Namjoon leaving earlier than he should and never coming home when he was supposed to. And Jungkook stopped waiting for him to get home before he started his nightly streams, stopped trying to have dinner ready for them, stopped expecting a morning kiss. At this point, he can’t really even remember the last time they slept together, or even literally just fell asleep or woke up together.
And Namjoon...well, Jungkook knows that he’s tired. He knows Namjoon’s brain is so active for so many hours when he’s at work that he can’t possibly be expected to still have it on when he gets home. But it still makes Jungkook’s heart ache a little, realizing that they don’t talk anymore besides menial chatter about how their days have been. He misses those long, deep talks with the man whose mind he loves. In the beginning, when they’d first moved here, he’d thought that at least they’d have the weekends, but sometimes Namjoon is called into work then, too. And when he isn’t, he’s so tired he doesn’t really do much besides sleep and eat.
Even when Namjoon is sitting across the table from him, on those rare days when they actually eat a meal together, Jungkook misses him so much that it hurts.
The thing that hurts the most is that he isn’t actually sure if Namjoon misses him, too.
The front door creaks open. Jungkook’s head snaps up, eyes flying to the pot he still hasn’t added water to. It’ll need at least ten minutes, he thinks regretfully, after he puts it in, and Namjoon’s probably hungry now. He gets up and adds the water hastily, stirring it in as Namjoon pads into the kitchen in his socked feet.
“Hey,” he says, dropping his bag on the kitchen table, seeming not to notice the fact that Jungkook has it already set for dinner. “That smells delicious.”
“It’s not ready yet, sorry,” Jungkook says hastily. “It will be soon.”
“It’s all good,” says Namjoon, running a hand through his hair. “I can just go take a shower while it finishes, if that’s okay with you.”
“Will it be long? I only have forty-five minutes til my stream starts,” Jungkook says.
Namjoon frowns down at his watch. “Is it that late already? God,” he says. “Well, then, don’t wait for me. You’re welcome to eat while I’m showering.”
“But I want to eat with you,” Jungkook says, his voice coming out a little more petulant than he means it to.
“I’m so sweaty right now, Kook,” Namjoon says, already pulling off his tie, starting to walk in the direction of the bathroom. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll make it as quick as I can.”
Jungkook closes his eyes in frustration. If only he’d added the damn water earlier. He had watched the clock count down for the past three hours, watching the already short window of time he had with his boyfriend grow even smaller, until finally it had dropped to forty-five minutes and now, it seems, to nothing. He’s almost frustrated he even attempted to cook, but Namjoon had promised him yesterday that he wasn’t supposed to work late and Jungkook had gotten excited at the prospect of eating a real dinner together. He’d cooked Namjoon’s favorite soup, he’d set the table, and he’d waited…
He wonders if Namjoon even remembers that he’d said he wouldn’t work late.
It’s times like these, like this moment where Jungkook realizes that he’s been clinging all day to a moment that Namjoon maybe doesn’t even remember was supposed to happen, that he feels sure that Namjoon doesn’t care about him as much as he used to, feels sure Namjoon doesn’t miss his presence the way Jungkook misses his. He stares hopelessly into the bubbles of the soup, feeling his throat close a little, knowing he’s lost his appetite and isn’t going to be able to eat regardless of when Namjoon gets out of the shower. Maybe it’s best that he just goes straight to the game room, keeps himself away from Namjoon until he’s less upset, less wound up.
The thing is, he’s wanted to bring all of this up with Namjoon for a while, but there’s so many things stopping him. For one, he’s always wanted Namjoon to be able to relax when he’s not at work, for home to be less stressful than work, for him to want to come back to Jungkook because it’s safe, it’s comfortable. He loves the idea of being Namjoon’s home, his safe place. And Namjoon is always so tired and worried when he gets home, always looks like there’s so much on his plate, that Jungkook always feels awful even thinking of adding more.
The other reason, the one he can barely admit to himself, is the sickening idea that Namjoon won’t really care.
But that thought, and the thought of what would come after, if Namjoon felt like that, stay buried in the back of Jungkook’s mind because if he really thinks about them, he’s pretty sure he’ll fall apart. After all, he moved here for Namjoon. He gave up far too much of his young life, according to his mother, to move away with a man he isn’t even engaged to.
The thing is, before they left, he had thought that they were maybe getting close to talking about that, about a life and a future together, about marriage.
It’s this final thought and the wave of tears that threatens to come with it that has Jungkook slamming the lid on the pot, turning the heat off so it won’t burn or boil over, leaving the ladle and bowl next to the pot for Namjoon. He has to think about something else, now.
At the end of the night, after his stream has ended, Jungkook finds Namjoon fast asleep on the couch in his pajamas, his phone clutched in his hand, the soup untouched. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he does know that it makes him really, really sad.
He puts the soup away, slips into the bedroom and falls asleep alone.
.
When he wakes up, it’s to the sound of water running in the kitchen. Namjoon usually leaves so early that Jungkook doesn’t even stir until hours after he’s gone, so this is highly unusual. Jungkook glances at his alarm clock and realizes he’s woken up much earlier than he usually does.
Brain still muffled with sleep, Jungkook pads out to the kitchen to find Namjoon brewing his morning cup of coffee. He’s already dressed for work, his neat button-down and dress slacks fitting him perfectly. Jungkook had laid them out for him last night, as he’d gotten in the habit of doing after scolding Namjoon far too many times for wearing wrinkled or stained shirts to work, or things that don’t match. Namjoon gets so rushed in the mornings he doesn’t care what he puts on.
He shuffles over to Namjoon, drops his head against his shoulder, puts his arms around his waist. “Good morning, baby,” he whispers, enjoying the warmth of the moment, the closeness of Namjoon’s body.
“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Namjoon says in a matching whisper, as if Jungkook’s still asleep and he’ll wake him if he speaks too loud.
“It’s good, I got to say good morning,” Jungkook answers, nuzzling further into Namjoon’s neck. He smells good, clean, he smells like comfort, he smells like drifting off to sleep together after a long night of talking, like long walks in the park together. He smells like Namjoon. Jungkook’s heart aches for a reason his sleep-addled brain can’t quite put together.
“Good morning,” Namjoon says, a slight laugh evident in his voice. “Jungkook, I can’t get a coffee cup when you’re holding on to me.”
“Don’t get it, then,” Jungkook grumbles, unreasonably peeved at Namjoon’s amusement.
“I have to,” says Namjoon, putting his hands around Jungkook’s where they’re locked on his waist.
“Mmm,” and Jungkook tightens his grip.
“Jungkook,” says Namjoon, squaring his shoulders so Jungkook’s head slides off. “Let go.”
Jungkook, feeling a slight shock of rejection, loosens his grip, and Namjoon slides away to the cupboard to pull out a travel mug. He watches Namjoon pour the coffee, feels the sleepy haze sliding off of him more with every second, and the general frustration he’s begun to feel lately is settling in instead. He’s not imagining it, he thinks; Namjoon used to be so much more affectionate with him. He would have leaned back into Jungkook’s arms, if this were a year ago, would have kissed him, run his hands through his hair. Jungkook wants him to do that now. He wonders why he doesn’t do it now. He tries to find something to say, some way to keep holding onto Namjoon even though he’s not actually touching him.
“Will you be home late?”
“It’s hard to tell,” says Namjoon, carefully pushing the lid of the mug into place. “I don’t remember if I told you this, but depending on how well this project goes, I might be in line for a promotion.”
“A...promotion?”
“I might be,” says Namjoon. “So I’m really trying to make sure all the t’s are crossed and the i’s are dotted, you know? That’s why I was late yesterday, too.”
Jungkook wants to think about how a promotion might mean even more responsibility for Namjoon, might mean even more time spent at work and less time for them, but he forces himself instead to think about how his boyfriend, despite his young age, has already earned a promotion in a prestigious company that’s highly selective with its hiring.
“Namjoon, that’s such good news,” he says, trying to mean it. “I’m...really proud of you. I know you deserve it.”
Namjoon used to blush and stutter whenever Jungkook complimented him. Now, he just smiles a little and nods. “Thanks,” he says, as if Jungkook’s just an acquaintance, just someone who happened to compliment him. Jungkook feels like he’s getting lost in the gap between their past and their present, what their relationship used to be versus what it is now. What he wants versus what he’s getting.
“Good luck, then,” he says, the words slipping out lamely because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Today, I mean.”
Namjoon, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder, just nods. But then he puts down his mug and comes to the counter, wrapping his arms around Jungkook, letting him bury his face in the space between his neck and his chest.
Jungkook feels something tight in him start to unwind, dissolve a little, and he wonders if it would dissolve all the way if Namjoon just kept holding him like this. He doesn’t want to let go.
“I was thinking we could get takeout tonight,” Namjoon says softly. “I can bring it back.”
The pressure’s back again, coiled tightly in Jungkook’s stomach. He thinks of the untouched pot of soup from last night. “Okay,” he says, wondering why, not wanting to ask.
Namjoon kisses the top of his head and lets him go. “Go back to bed, Kook,” he says. “You look so tired.”
Jungkook doesn’t. He drops into one of the kitchen chairs, wincing when his elbow hits one of the spoons from the place settings he’d forgotten to clean up last night, watches Namjoon go, listens to the door closing behind him. His heart pounds dully in his ears.
He’s alone.
.
“You have to talk to him,” Jimin says. “You have to.”
Jungkook is lying on his back on the floor, the phone next to his head, picturing his best friend’s face in his mind as he listens to him speak. “I just explained all the reasons to you why I don’t want to do that.”
“So you don’t want to rock the boat, and you don’t want to fight...but you’re already upset and you’re already hurt.”
“No, that’s not it,” says Jungkook, frustrated. “I just...I know I’m being at least somewhat unreasonable.”
“No,” says Jimin immediately. “You aren’t being unreasonable. I think you know that, too. I think you know that the issues you have are valid.”
“Maybe,” says Jungkook. “But I still don’t really want to talk to him.”
Jimin’s silent for a moment.
“You know,” he says eventually. “If you know you have a valid problem, but you don’t want to bring it up with him, you should maybe ask yourself why. What are you afraid of, that he’ll get mad, that he won’t want you anymore?”
“Maybe.”
“Wait,” says Jimin, shock evident in his voice. “Really? You’re really afraid of that?”
Jungkook rubs his hands across his eyes. He isn’t sure he can deny it any more. “I’m sure he still loves me,” he says, “I just...I don’t know how much. I don’t know if it’s as much as I love him. I don’t know if this is all worth it to him, I guess. I feel like everything has changed and it isn’t because my feelings have changed, so it must be that his have. He doesn’t treat me the same. It’s…” he trails off, looking for words, losing them in the back of his throat. He didn’t really know he was thinking those things until they spilled out of him, but now they’re swirling in the forefront of his mind. “You and Tae have been together for years, but you are both still so obviously in love. We don’t have that. I don’t know why.”
“I mean,” says Jimin, “with me and Tae, we’re nothing like we were when we first started dating. Things changed, Jungkook, they’re not going to stay the same as they were when you first started dating. But what we did do was we talked when we felt the changes start to happen. Sometimes we both felt them, sometimes it was just one of us, but we figured out that we had to talk it out every time. If you just sit and stew in it, he isn’t going to know how you feel, and you can’t resolve anything.”
“I feel stupid, Jimin,” says Jungkook bitterly. “I feel dumb and unreasonable. I don’t want to tell him that.”
“You have to,” says Jimin softly. “And he’s kind of being a jerk to you right now, and I’m a little pissed at him for that, not going to lie, but he’s not responsible for knowing how you feel if you don’t tell him. People aren’t mind-readers, Jungkook, especially not Joon, so you’ve got to communicate with them about how you feel.”
“I know,” Jungkook groans. “I get it, okay? We have to talk.”
“I get that it’s hard,” says Jimin, gently. “It’s easier said than done, right? But when you get it off your chest, you’ll feel better.”
“No I won’t.”
Jimin sighs.
.
Jungkook is putting together a new bookshelf he bought for his game room when Namjoon gets home, about an hour earlier than the previous night. He’s sitting in the middle of the living room, parts sprawled everywhere, music blasting, so he doesn’t even hear Namjoon until he sees him appear like a ghost in the doorway of the living room. He gives a violent start, and the screws in his hand scatter everywhere.
“Damnit,” he grumbles, hunting them all down, as Namjoon finds the speaker and turns the music down to a more comfortable volume.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I got this to put my camera equipment on,” says Jungkook, gesturing to the box. “I’m building it.”
“Mmmm,” says Namjoon, his eyes running over the materials. “That’s sexy.”
“Me building a bookshelf?”
“Yeah,” says Namjoon, tugging off his coat with some difficulty to drop it onto the couch. “You building a bookshelf.”
Jungkook feels a little flush of warmth in his chest. “You should get down here and show me how sexy you think it is.”
“Nothing about that will be sexy if I don’t shower first,” says Namjoon, loosening his tie.
Jungkook, biting back his disappointment, notices the lack of bags in Namjoon’s hands. “Did you already put the takeout in the kitchen?”
Namjoon’s eyes widen. “Oh, Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” he says, clapping his hand to his forehead. “I completely forgot to pick it up.”
Jungkook scrambles to his feet. The frustration that always seems to simmer in his mind these days swells a little. He’d wondered earlier about why Namjoon wanted to get takeout, and he wants to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that it’s because he wanted to make the evening easier on both of them, but the fact that Namjoon hadn’t even touched or acknowledged the fact that Jungkook made one of Namjoon’s favorite meals the night before just made him feel slightly pissed off about the whole thing.
And now Namjoon forgot the takeout.
“It’s fine,” he says slowly, pushing the words out between his teeth, trying not to make them sound angry. “Just go take a shower. I’ll take care of it.”
“Oh, but you were in the middle of this...I can go back out and get it…”
“No, I feel like walking,” says Jungkook as lightly as he can, pushing past Namjoon to get to the bedroom so he can’t see his face because Namjoon can always tell when Jungkook’s really upset by looking in his eyes. Well, he used to be able to tell, anyway. “And I know you’re tired.”
By the time he’s gotten back from the walk to the corner takeout store they both really like, he’s not really that surprised to see that a freshly showered Namjoon has fallen asleep on the couch. His mouth is slightly open, his hair soft and damp and falling across his forehead, his breathing soft and even.
Sometimes, after Jungkook had realized he was falling in love with Namjoon, he would look at him and feel a wave of feelings so strong that it almost knocked him over. It would always surprise him, because at every point of loving Namjoon, he always felt like he couldn’t possibly love him any more. And then Namjoon will laugh a certain way, or make a face, or even just smile, and Jungkook somehow falls in love a little more.
This is one of those moments, drinking in the sight of the sweet, soft man on the couch that he’s loved for what feels like forever, but right now the rush of feelings is bittersweet. Jungkook is reminded for the millionth time that he’s hopelessly, deeply in love with Namjoon, but the feelings that have been bubbling up inside him lately make that reminder feel sour, unwelcome.
Jungkook tiptoes to the kitchen and sets down the takeout. He feels worn out with all the emotions that have been swirling in his mind, and suddenly he’s just really sick of them. He pulls out a bottle of wine - Namjoon’s favorite of the ones they have, but he’s so bitter right now he can’t bring himself to wait to open the bottle - and carries it with the opener and a wine glass into the game room. He isn’t streaming tonight, but he needs a distraction, so he just pours a glass and logs on.
It’s almost three in the morning and he’s wine drunk when he finally stops. He forgets to tiptoe on his way back to the kitchen, and drops the opener with a loud thunk. Cringing, he picks it up and wobbles his way into the kitchen with his empty bottle in tow.
As he’s washing the dishes, Namjoon appears in the kitchen doorway, looking confused and bleary, clearly just having woken up. “You’re still up?” he asks.
“You’re still up?” Jungkook shoots back at him. “You have to get up for work in, like, three hours.” The opener slides out of his hand into the sink with a loud clatter.
“Are you drunk?” asks Namjoon in utter confusion.
“No,” Jungkook says, slurring his voice as much as he can, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Totally sober. Totally fine.”
“Jungkook -”
“Nope,” Jungkook says, straightening. “Don’t need a lecture from you. Don’t want to hear it.”
“I wasn’t going to lecture,” Namjoon says. “I was just going to ask if you were okay.”
“All of a sudden?” the words are spilling over themselves, slipping out of their own accord. “You’re asking me now if I’m okay? You’re, like, three months late, babe.”
“I...what?”
Jungkook blows out his breath, silencing the tiny voice in his mind telling him this isn’t how you wanted to tell him, this isn’t the right way to do it, because he’s been thinking for way too long now and it’s time to stop thinking and talk, time for Namjoon to hear it, too.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, “but you haven’t really asked me if I’m okay in ages. I’m not, in case you cared. I’m really fucking lonely, in case you cared. I miss my boyfriend and my partner and the person I left my home and my friends for, in case you cared. I just rattle around in this stupid fucking apartment, waiting for you to come home so you can ignore me and sleep and not eat the food I made you and insist we order takeout the next day. I lay out all your clothes at night for you and I take care of this apartment, which by the way I had to furnish all by myself when we moved in because you never found the time to help me. So I did it by myself, and now I just sit in it and daydream about the relationship we used to have, when we actually went on dates, when we actually talked about more than your job, when you made time for me, when we were on the same page about our future, when you told me everything I felt was important and you cared about it, when you would actually touch me for more than three seconds and you fucked me like you meant it, and we fell asleep together and woke up together. When’s the last time we had sex, huh? I know you don’t remember, because neither do I. So no, I’m not really fucking okay.”
Namjoon has gone sheet white, frozen where he stands. Jungkook stares at him, feeling stupid with liquor, feeling increasingly annoyed at the fact that Namjoon just won’t say...anything.
“Good night, babe,” he says, forcing the words out at him. They feel like poison on his tongue.
“Wait,” Namjoon whispers, grabbing at Jungkook’s sleeve as he pushes past him to get to the bedroom. “Wait...can we talk?”
“I don’t want to,” Jungkook says, pushing his hand away. “I said what I wanted to say. And you can sleep on the fucking couch again, by the way.”
When he tumbles into bed, the regret is only just starting to seep in, a tiny edge of it in his wine-soaked brain. When he falls asleep, the last thought on his mind is that he wishes he were in Namjoon’s arms.
.
When he wakes up, it’s almost noon, which is incredibly late even for Jungkook. He feels a slight headache when he does, and he groans, reaching for the glass of water he usually keeps on his nightstand.
His fingers find an empty wine glass instead, and every single thing about last night suddenly comes rushing back to him. He had been drunk, drunk enough to have no inhibitions when he spoke to Namjoon, but not drunk enough to forget every single poisonous word from his own mouth, not drunk enough to forget the stricken, almost terrified look on Namjoon’s face, not drunk enough to forget his parting words…
...you can sleep on the fucking couch again…
“Oh, God,” Jungkook breathes. He feels hot and then cold and then his stomach is churning, and he darts to the bathroom and empties his stomach until the heaving stops. Even then he still feels sick, and as he sinks to the bathroom floor the regret and shame and guilt start to set in.
Because, God, even if he meant those things, even if he wanted Namjoon to know them, he had wanted to tell him differently, when he was calm, when they could sit down and talk about it. He hadn’t wanted to tell him like that. He shivers every time one of the terrible things he said to Namjoon presses its way back into his memory.
And then he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes because they’re stinging with blistering hot tears.
After he said all that, the way he said it, maybe Namjoon would be well within his rights to take a step back from Jungkook, to reconsider why they’re in a relationship at all. He knows Namjoon still loves him, but he also knows Namjoon doesn’t have to put up with what Jungkook just did to him. It was horrible, it was vengeful, it was meant to cut and sting and hurt, it was everything that you should not do to someone that you love.
“Oh, God,” it comes out as a half-choked sob. “What have I done.”
“Jungkook?”
He’s sure he must be imagining Namjoon’s voice. Namjoon is gone, it’s past noon, he’s been gone for hours. Still, he lifts his head, and there through his haze of tears he sees Namjoon standing in the doorway.
He blinks hard, rubbing at his eyes. “Namjoon?”
Namjoon’s eyes are lined with dark circles, his hair ruffled as if he’d been running his hands through it the way he does when he’s stressed, and Jungkook realizes that he probably hasn’t slept at all. He feels another pang of guilt and lowers his head to his knees, unable to look Namjoon in the eye.
“Can I come in?” Namjoon asks, and it’s the way he says it, his voice so soft, that makes Jungkook just let go. Yesterday it was the words he couldn’t keep inside, and now it’s the uncontrollable sobbing, the kind that’s so intense that his body shakes like a leaf in the wind, the kind that’s so intense he can’t breathe. If he’d asked himself at that moment, he couldn’t even have identified an emotion that’s making him cry so much. It’s everything, it’s all of it, and he couldn’t have formed a coherent thought if he’d tried.
So it’s almost unconsciously that he reaches out for Namjoon, not lifting his head, just groping around where he knows Namjoon is until his fingers brush Namjoon’s outstretched hand, and he just tugs, and then Namjoon is beside him and his arms are around him and he’s holding Jungkook tightly against his chest the way Jungkook wants him to. And Jungkook is sobbing into his chest, clinging to him desperately, and the only thing he can say is please don’t let go, and Namjoon says I won’t.
.
When the tears finally subside, Jungkook doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t want to face the things he said to Namjoon, doesn’t want to let go of the illusion that they’re okay, that everything is the way it used to be, with him nestled in Namjoon’s arms and Namjoon stroking his hair and finally, finally feeling less alone.
But that’s what it is - an illusion - and it has to shatter.
Jungkook sits up, groping at the tissue box, but Namjoon beats him to it and pushes a couple into his hands. The gentle care in the gesture almost makes Jungkook want to bawl again, but it was bad enough the first time, so he doesn’t. Instead, he blows his nose hard into the tissue and throws it into the trash can.
Namjoon isn’t saying anything, but his hand doesn’t leave Jungkook’s hair. Once, when they were still just friends, Jungkook admitted to him that having people touch his hair helps him to calm himself when he’s anxious, and Namjoon has never forgotten that fact. Namjoon staying home, Namjoon holding him even after Jungkook hurt him, Namjoon giving him the tissue, Namjoon stroking his hair...Jungkook can see it in his face and feel it in his gestures and all the little things that Namjoon really loves him, and Jungkook feels so guilty for doubting him.
“Namjoon,” he whispers, burying his face against Namjoon’s chest again, unable to meet his eyes, knowing they’ll be full of nothing but patience and love that he doesn’t deserve. “I’m so sorry, so, so, so sorry.”
“What?” Namjoon says, his hands stilling. “No...Jungkook, please don’t apologize. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. But I, on the other hand, I…”
“But I…”
“Please,” says Namjoon softly. “Please, I just want to say this to you, Kook.”
“Okay,” Jungkook says.
“You were right,” Namjoon says. “Everything you said last night. I know you’re probably upset about the way you said it,” he adds, as Jungkook opens his mouth to speak, “but it doesn’t matter, I needed to hear it just the way you said it. I...we...Kook, I love you, I love you so much that I don’t feel like the word love even covers it, and the fact that I made you doubt that is just...it’s...unacceptable. And it is all on me. You’ve loved me the same way through all of it, even when you were hurt, and I…” he pauses, takes a deep breath. Jungkook can feel his heartbeat picking up. “I was just awful to you in return.”
Jungkook wants to protest, to reassure, doesn’t want Namjoon to feel guilty, but there’s something healing in listening to Namjoon’s words, in the way Jungkook finally feels seen, the way he knows that Namjoon gets what he’s feeling. The fact that Namjoon knows now, how hard it might have been for Jungkook.
“So I apologize,” says Namjoon, and he pulls Jungkook off his chest gently to look him in the eyes. Namjoon’s eyes are glistening with unshed tears. “I hurt you. And I’m so sorry for that, Kook.”
“I forgive you,” Jungkook says instantly, brushing the first tear off Namjoon’s cheek, catching the second that trails in its path with his thumb. “And I love you.”
“I love you,” Namjoon says softly, leaning into Jungkook’s touch. “Thank you, Jungkook. For your forgiveness. I’m not sure I deserve it, or you.”
Jungkook blows out a sudden, almost humorless laugh. “Really,” he says, after a moment. “you have to let me apologize too. You didn’t mean to hurt me, but I did mean to hurt you, and it was cruel, even if I was drunk.”
“I forgive you, then,” says Namjoon. “But I was never angry at you for saying it, and even if I was hurt, it was because I needed to be. It was a wake-up call.”
“You didn’t need to be hurt, there’s always a better way.”
“It’s okay, Kook,” Namjoon says, squeezing his hand. “Please don’t apologize anymore. I already let you do it once.”
“Barely.”
Namjoon smiles a little for the first time. They sit in silence for a moment, just holding each other’s hands.
“Oh,” Namjoon says suddenly. “About the soup.”
“Oh, don’t talk about the stupid soup,” Jungkook grumbles. “It’s dumb.”
“No, I just...wanted to explain,” Namjoon says quickly. “That night you made the soup for me, I did notice it was my favorite, and I did really appreciate it, and I wanted to wait up for you but then I fell asleep. So then I decided I wanted to take it with me for lunch the next day, and to ask you if you wanted takeout because I felt bad you’ve been cooking so many nights and I wanted to treat you.”
“You didn’t take the soup, though,” says Jungkook, confused.
“No,” says Namjoon, burying his face in his hands. “I didn’t, I forgot, and then I forgot to get the takeout too, and then on top of that I forgot to thank you for the soup and tell you why I wanted to order takeout in the first place.”
“Oh my God,” says Jungkook, unable to stop a giggle from bubbling in his throat. “You’re kinda hopeless.”
“I’m so hopeless,” says Namjoon. “But listen, Kook, I’m going to do better. I promise. And I know those are just words, so I’m going to follow them up, and if I don’t…”
“You already are,” Jungkook interrupts. “You stayed home from work for me, for the whole day. Believe me, I’m grateful.”
Namjoon makes a face. “That settles it,” he says.
“What?”
“I was thinking about calling off for the next week,” says Namjoon, “and now I’m going to do it. I don’t know, it’s kind of sad that me taking one day off is a big deal for us.”
“A week? Aren’t you working towards a promotion?” Jungkook asks in surprise.
“I don’t care,” says Namjoon with such conviction that Jungkook can’t help but believe him, and a wave of gratitude blooms in his chest. “What’s the point of the promotion if we just are going to keep not spending time together?”
“It feels nice to hear you say that,” Jungkook murmurs, laying his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Makes me feel….I don’t know….anyway, thank you.”
After a moment, he lifts his head. “Wait. When exactly were you thinking about calling off? Was it last night, after I yelled at you?”
“No,” Namjoon says, “it’s been a while. I’ve been thinking about us going on a vacation sometime soon, because I wanted a break from work, and obviously I wanted to spend some time with you.”
Jungkook buries his head against Namjoon’s shoulder again. He doesn’t say it out loud because he knows Namjoon will protest, but he’s starting to feel guilty again, because Namjoon really had been thinking of him all this time. His words from last night I’m not okay, if you cared...I miss you, if you cared...he’s beginning to realize that he isn’t ever going to be able to forget them.
Namjoon might never forget them either, he realizes, feeling Namjoon’s breathing even out underneath his shoulder.
“Come on,” he says, sitting up. “You haven’t slept all night, have you? We should get you to bed.”
Namjoon nods, yawning at the mere mention of bed, and allows himself to be tugged to his feet. He doesn’t let go of Jungkook’s hand from the short walk to the bathroom to the bedroom, where he practically tumbles into bed, pulling Jungkook with him.
“I’m not sleepy,” Jungkook says, sitting up and wriggling away from him. “Go to sleep. I’m going to finish that stupid bookshelf, and then I’m going to go shopping so I can make us some dinner.”
“Absolutely not,” says Namjoon, pulling him back by the back of his shirt. “We can eat the leftover soup and takeout in the fridge.”
“Okay, but…”
“Do you want to cuddle?” Namjoon asks, opening his eyes wide enough to look at Jungkook.
“Of course,” Jungkook says, suddenly a little breathless. It’s not like it’s been forever since they cuddled in the same bed, but with both of them going to bed and waking up at very different times, it’s been forever since it’s felt meaningful. So even though he’s not tired, Jungkook is more than happy to slide under the covers facing Namjoon, to tuck his head into Namjoon’s broad chest and feel his arms lock around his back. Namjoon sighs contentedly, hooking Jungkook’s legs into his own, his hand sliding into Jungkook’s hair.
And even though he’s not tired, the gentle pressure on his scalp, the warmth of Namjoon’s body, the soothing sound of his breathing, the thud of his heart beneath Jungkook’s cheeks...he finds himself drifting, until eventually he’s gone, and his dreams, happier than usual, overtake his consciousness.
.
He wakes when he feels Namjoon stretching against him. The room is shrouded in darkness, though there’s still enough light that he can make out Namjoon’s face and his tragically rumpled hair.
“You look like Einstein,” he mutters, rolling onto his back and groaning.
“We just woke up,” Namjoon says, poking him in the side. “You’re already making fun of me, and we just woke up.”
“Okay,” says Jungkook sleepily. “I’ll wait, like, five more minutes to make proper fun of you.”
Namjoon chuckles as he slides out of bed. Jungkook watches him, warmth blooming in his chest at the comfortable feeling of waking up together. He’s missed it.
“Don’t get up,” Namjoon says, leaning back over Jungkook to kiss his forehead. “Not unless you want to, that is. I’m bringing you dinner.”
“In bed?” Jungkook asks. “You hate eating in here.”
“No I don’t,” says Namjoon, affronted. “It’s not my first choice, but I thought we could just eat and watch movies in here instead of the living room since there’s bookshelf parts everywhere.”
“Oh, damn, the bookshelf,” Jungkook groans. “I forgot about that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon says.
Jungkook drifts off again after he leaves, but when he wakes it’s to the smell of the takeout noodles. Namjoon hands him his bowl, and Jungkook notices that he’s also brought a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Oh,” he murmurs. “Hey. I’m sorry I drank your wine last night.”
“Oh, Kook,” Namjoon says, pouring them both a glass, “I don’t mind.”
“I know, but I’m pretty sure I did it to be petty.”
Namjoon arches an eyebrow at him. “You barely have a petty bone in your body.”
Jungkook scrunches his nose at him, and Namjoon’s face softens. “I know we’re not in the best spot right now,” he says softly, “but don’t feel like you have to tiptoe around me. It’s okay.”
“You too,” Jungkook says, taking the wine from him and watching him slide under the covers next to Jungkook. The room is now lit up just by the screen in front of them, making everything look blue and dreamy.
“We’ve never done this before,” he realizes, out loud.
“We used to do it all the time at my old apartment,” says Namjoon, his brow furrowing as he glances over at him.
“No, not the eating in bed. I meant the...well, we’re not really fighting, I don’t know what we’re doing. I guess I didn’t think of it as us being in a...rough spot until you just said that.”
Namjoon clicks on the lamp and looks over at him, the soft light seeming to make his face glow. “I didn’t mean to say we were in a rough spot, exactly,” he says. “Just that everything isn’t perfect right now. I think we were kind of fortunate that we’ve gone a whole year without having one of those patches.”
Jungkook runs his hands over the blanket, trying to search for the words he wants to say, but his thoughts feel suddenly disorganized. When he woke up in Namjoon’s arms, he had felt like everything was perfect, like the storm had blown over, and it had left him with an overwhelming sense of relief. It’s a little unsteadying to hear that Namjoon doesn’t think the same.
“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks, “what are you thinking?”
“I don’t know, really,” Jungkook admits slowly. “I guess this is all new to me. I think you forget sometimes that you’re my first real relationship ever, so every relationship experience we have is the first time I’m having it. Meaning, I don’t really see this the way you do, maybe you’re used to this, but I just...thought it was over after this morning.”
“It is,” Namjoon says, “but...you’ve been feeling this way for months. I guess the way I see it, you’re not going to let go of being mad at me all at once just because I apologized and it’d be totally normal if you didn’t.”
“I did,” Jungkook says immediately. “I wasn’t ever mad anyway...just, like, frustrated. And really annoyed. But I have let it go. I said I forgave you, and I meant it.”
Namjoon worries his lip between his teeth and says nothing. Jungkook lets his mind wander for a little, closing his eyes and trying to search what he’s feeling, and he isn’t lying to Namjoon. He really doesn’t feel any more of that simmering resentment. Maybe Namjoon’s right and it would be normal to still feel some of it, but he doesn’t.
Namjoon...well, he listened. He heard everything Jungkook screamed at him in the kitchen and whispered to him in the bathroom and took it all to heart, and Jungkook knows that. Namjoon still cares about him, still loves him, all those weeks and months that Jungkook had spent wondering if he did. And maybe it’s illogical, but knowing those things has put his heart completely at ease.
“I think I underestimate you sometimes,” says Namjoon finally, and Jungkook snaps to attention.
“Huh?”
“You’re right,” says Namjoon, “about the difference in our relationship experiences. In the past maybe I’ve come to accept some things as a facet of reality.” He pauses, running his hand through his hair. “You know I don’t like to talk about my exes, but in the past, both of them would have held onto something like this, so I just assumed you would too.”
“Mmm, what jerks,” says Jungkook.
Namjoon’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Yeah,” he agrees.
“So we’re okay?”
“Of course we are,” says Namjoon, “if you are.”
Jungkook reaches for Namjoon’s hand, revels in the feeling of it wrapping around his own, fingers intertwined. He raises it to his mouth and kisses the back of Namjoon’s knuckles.
“I am,” he says, hoping Namjoon can hear the sincerity in his voice, hoping he believes him.
The movies they watch are inconsequential, because all Jungkook really focuses on is how wonderful it feels to be pressed against Namjoon’s side, with Namjoon’s hands in his hair, knowing that it’s all right between them.