Chapter Text
In the end, a simple piece of paper nullified over ten years of a relationship. Kim Namjoon stared at the signed court order, a mere page, which made the end of his marriage official. It seemed anticlimactic, though Namjoon didn't know what he expected. Things had been falling apart for so long, so perhaps it made sense that the end was barely a sputter.
There was a knock on his door, but he didn't answer. It was usually the same person who never waited for permission anyhow. The door swung open a moment later and Yoongi walked in only to collapse on the couch.
He and Yoongi have known each other for a long time. Longer than Namjoon had known his wife, actually. Ex-wife — he needed to get used to that. They met during university, attending different schools in Seoul, but had constantly bumped into each other at auditions and clubs to the point where they felt obligated to talk. Somewhere in Namjoon's office were photos of them from back then, before the invention of smartphones, hazy shots in a dimly lit storage closet turned dressing room wearing outfits which they thought were so cool at the time but were embarrassing and humbling to look at now.
Their fashion choices have, hopefully, improved, though Namjoon found it amusing that with every passing year more and more of Yoongi's wardrobe consisted of grandpa cardigans. When they graduated, the guilt of not wanting to worry their parents won out against the gamble of trying to make it big. They gave up on the auditions and the underground shows and busking and got stuffy office jobs instead. But Yoongi was never really able to shake off the need to make music and eventually started doing freelance work for local artists, making a name for himself as a producer. Once he roped Namjoon into it, one thing led to another and here they were over a decade later, back in an office building but at least doing things that meant something to them. Supposedly. Yoongi was in charge of working with their rookie groups while Namjoon found his way back to the business side of things, relied upon for his ability to find fresh talent to join their production teams. He had a studio downstairs, but hadn't stepped inside in months. But it was something.
"The youths are trying to get me onto social media," Yoongi said, implying he was only here for reprieve. "I'm trying to get them another number one hit, but they keep telling me the vibes of my photos are wrong. What does that even mean? They're photos I wanted to take of things I wanted photos of! How can the 'vibes' be wrong?"
"It's their nice way of saying they're boring."
"Fuck you," Yoongi said with a snort. He pushed his hair back. "Being young these days sounds exhausting."
"You've been exhausted since the day we met," Namjoon said, hesitating briefly before he tapped the paper on his desk twice. "It's official, by the way. Courier delivered it half an hour ago."
"Oh, shit." Yoongi came over and picked up the court order. "That's it, huh? Completely single again."
"Yeah. That's it. Single at 42."
Yoongi handed the paper back. "You say that like there aren't millions of single people over 40 out there." He leaned against Namjoon's desk. "So what are you going to do now?"
Namjoon shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to think about it. I just ended a six year marriage, so I honestly don't want to do anything for a while."
"You know how I feel about not doing anything. It's my favorite activity." Yoongi crossed his arms. "You want to come over this weekend then? Celebrate or mourn, whatever you're in the mood for."
"Sure. Haven't talked to hyung in a while."
"Great. Just a warning though, he finally beat the last level of whatever game he's been playing for the past month and will not shut up about it. He's probably going to give you minimal condolences and then go right into a dramatic play by play. Also we just received like, ten boxes of corn dogs so you're also going to leave with some of that."
Namjoon actually didn't mind at all. The last thing he wanted was to focus on himself. "Seriously, I can't believe people give him food for free then pay him to eat."
Yoongi sighed. "It's not all glamorous. The other night we fucked next to a 10kg bag of puffed corn because we don't have anywhere to put it." His phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. His expression was resigned. "The kids are making me do some challenge. Is this allowed? Doesn't seniority matter anymore?"
"Go. You know all the groups love you and that's why they want to do stuff with you."
"This challenge better involve a nap." Yoongi rubbed his face like he was psyching himself up, or stifling a yawn.
After sending Yoongi off, Namjoon placed the divorce order back in the envelope and tucked it between two books on the shelf. He would forget it was there soon enough and honestly that was probably for the best.
+
Namjoon never expected to get married. He didn't intend not to either, it was just something he never really thought about. Making music was always at the forefront, but those first few years out of college when he was stuck behind a desk — clocking in too early, clocking out too late, trying to be the son his parents could brag about to their friends — he ended up meeting Sojin and it just seemed like what he was supposed to do.
He loved her though, genuinely. Still did, in that nostalgic way because he refused for any of it to be a mistake. For a few years, especially when Yoongi gave him a way to return to music, everything seemed perfect and it just made sense, then, to propose. No one around him had thought differently. By the end, no one tried to stop him from divorcing either.
Yoongi was right that there were plenty of single people over 40, but Namjoon still felt out of place being one of them. He met Sojin almost fifteen years ago and he had the feeling that being single now was a different beast than when he was young.
"Oh, it's terrible out there. I created a profile for Yoongi on one of those dating apps a few months ago and it was horrific."
"You what?"
"It's not that I don't trust you, Yoongi. I just wanted to see what kind of proverbial fish were out there and to imagine just how brutally you would turn them down if one tried to hit on you since you are, after all, quite alluring and I am, as we all know, perfect."
"That's weird," Yoongi said. "You're so weird."
Seokjin clicked his tongue and winked. "But your heart fluttered a little, didn't it?"
Yoongi met Seokjin on a snowy New Year's Day five years ago and had been dating ever since, which probably surprised Yoongi more than anyone else. Namjoon has heard multiple versions of the story, the increasingly whimsical variations always from Seokjin's point of view, but they all included some mention of Yoongi sitting by himself at a coffee shop and Seokjin deciding to sit across from him despite the many empty tables which had been available. Alluring, that was the word Seokjin always used for Yoongi and the reason he gave for why he approached so directly.
Namjoon liked Seokjin even though he really didn't click with him at first. He joked quite a bit, but it was always either extremely sarcastic or very dry and Namjoon couldn't figure it out. He understood Seokjin much better now and joked right back at times, though he learned how to have serious conversations too. It was Seokjin, ultimately, who made Namjoon confront if what he wanted, what might make him happy again, was a divorce.
Yoongi had been right about what to expect for his visit. Seokjin said sorry to Namjoon once when he arrived at their apartment and spent half an hour talking about games. For a good year, Yoongi had no clue what Seokjin actually did for a living. He asked, of course, because every time they went out Seokjin would pay for their meals, but Seokjin always claimed it wasn't important. It wasn't until Yoongi caught someone at their company watching a video did he figure it out.
Seokjin was behind the most popular eating and food vlog in the country. The ad revenue from his videos last year was more than enough for him to buy a condo overlooking the river. He only made one video a week and spent the rest of the time doing whatever he wanted. Often when they went out, he'd be recognized, though the real indicator that he was important was all the free food sponsors sent him. They hadn't needed to buy ramyeon at all for a couple years now.
"I'm surprised you want to date again," Seokjin said. "Tough out there."
"I don't know about dating," Namjoon said before admitting that it just felt too strange being alone. It wasn't a very good reason, but it was all he had. He didn't even know if he knew how to be alone. He had no useful skills, couldn't cook, could barely clean. A large reason he even got through university, he realized, was because of Yoongi who could make much more than just ramyeon and was also handy, which was good because Namjoon tended to break the things he touched.
Seokjin nodded sagely. "You don't have to date. You can just date."
Namjoon's forkful of pasta paused in the air. "What's the difference?"
Yoongi set his wine glass down. "He means you can live frivolously again. Go on a million first dates just because you can. Have one night stands."
"Yes, hook-ups, something that I'm very known for. Actually, I read that people in their 20s are having less sex than we were at their age."
"Is that the pickup line you're going to go with?" Seokjin said.
If Namjoon had known they would be workshopping this new period of his life, he wasn't sure he would have come tonight. "I don't think I'll be using any pickup lines. What do you guys think I'm going to do? Go clubbing again? I'm in bed by ten most nights."
"It would be hilarious if you went clubbing again. Actually, I think Hoseok still goes." Yoongi grabbed his phone. Hoseok was lead choreographer and a budding producer at their company. He was also fifteen years younger than everyone at this table.
"What are you doing?"
"Texting Hobi. See what he thinks about taking you."
Namjoon snorted. "He's going to think it's a ridiculous idea."
Yoongi smiled. "He thinks it's a great idea."
"What?" Namjoon frowned when Yoongi turned his phone around only to see a message from Hoseok with many exclamation points and celebratory emojis.
"I'm proud of us," Seokjin said, reaching over to place his hand over Yoongi's. "We made some real progress tonight."
Namjoon went back to eating, because the food was too good to give up, though he made sure to be visibly less enthusiastic when shoveling the pasta into his mouth. "I'm finishing this and then I'm leaving."
Seokjin sprung up. "Oh, let me pack up the corn dogs."
Yoongi regarded Namjoon a little more seriously once Seokjin left the room. "I'm just trying to get you out of the house. I've known you for twenty—"
"Twenty years, yeah," Namjoon mumbled, because Yoongi prefaced half their conversations with how long they've known each other since about year five.
"—years and I know if we let you be you're just going to hole yourself up. A divorce isn't a failure. It's more mature to admit when something isn't working than to be stubborn and miserable for the rest of your life."
Of course Yoongi was right. About how Namjoon really felt, about what he would do if left to his own devices. "Can't we just go to the movies or something?"
Yoongi laughed a little, his shoulders jerking. "We can do that too. Go with Hoseok though. Consider it research."
"Sure. Seoul clubs, infamously open to letting people over 30 in."
Yoongi shrugged as if to say that was for Namjoon to find out.
Seokjin returned, waltzing into the dining room and heaving four giant bags onto the table next to Namjoon, heavy enough that the plates shook. "These will fit in your freezer, right?"
+
A few days went by and there were no more mentions of Namjoon going clubbing or doing anything that, quite frankly, his back couldn't handle. He even saw Hoseok plenty of times, including dropping in himself to see how dance practice was going with the new group the company was going to debut next month, but Hoseok spoke to him as if he'd never received that text from Yoongi.
It was a relief to know Hoseok thought it had been a joke. Really, how else could he have interpreted it? Having someone like him tag along with someone like Hoseok on a night out — ridiculous.
Namjoon was in his office Friday afternoon reviewing more demos which had been submitted to the company. They took rolling applications outside of the semi-annual global auditions and Namjoon was always quick to give them a listen. The next big producer could appear at any time and he needed to spot them before the competition did.
He'd just forwarded an application to Yoongi for a second opinion when someone knocked and he looked up to see Hoseok poking his head in.
"Hey, hyung, busy?" The coolness in the way Hoseok dressed was how Namjoon had always imagined himself to be when he was younger before hindsight kicked in. He kept up with streetwear in ways Namjoon couldn't wrap his head around and knew about brands months before they appeared on everyone else's radar. Today he was wearing an all white tracksuit with neon green sneakers. A bright orange beanie was perched on his head.
"No, come in." Namjoon stretched his arms overhead. "Wrapping up for the day."
Hoseok sat on the arm of the couch. "You got anything tomorrow night?"
"I don't think so."
"Great! Let's go out."
Namjoon felt his face twitch. "To dinner?"
Hoseok laughed, covering his mouth briefly. "We could do that before going out, sure. There's this new club a few of my friends and I have been wanting to go to for a while. Cover's not too steep and I heard the music is good."
Namjoon rubbed his temples. "Yoongi's text was just a joke."
"Really? He's been following up with me the whole week asking where I'm going to take you and when."
"You never said anything to me."
Hoseok shrugged. "Yoongi-hyung told me not to. He said you might be feeling self-conscious about it."
Namjoon sighed and felt that headache coming on. "Hoseok. Hobe-ah, I—" He recalled again Yoongi's warning about holing himself up at home. "Have you forgotten how old I am?"
"Old people can still go out."
Namjoon narrowed his eyes and Hoseok laughed. Ninety percent of the time Hoseok was the nicest guy and most disciplined person Namjoon had ever met. The other ten percent was him always knowing just where to jab. "What I meant was I'm pretty sure there's a maximum age limit for club entry and I am at least a decade over the threshold."
"Nah, we can get you in." Hoseok headed toward the door. "We usually head out around ten."
"At night? That's when I go to bed."
Hoseok was already out in the hall and propped his shoulder against the doorframe. "Take an afternoon nap. I'll text you tomorrow, hyung!" He gave a little salute and left.
"Wait. What do I wear?" Namjoon was met with silence and he slumped over on his desk. He felt betrayed by everyone around him, but mostly himself because he knew he was absolutely going to go without a fuss.
Whatever. It was just one night. A few hours, a few drinks, and then he could return to his still sparsely decorated apartment and hide.