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In the thirteen years Yoongi has known Namjoon, and the ten he has spent loving him, he has always been consistent about two things. One, every night before bed, he checks on his bonsai tree, often reciting it a short haiku or giving it words of encouragement. When Yoongi met the sixteen-year-old Namjoon he found this habit downright alarming, but after years of cohabitation, the ritual had become hopelessly endearing.
The second consistency is Namjoon’s patience with animals. Yoongi has never once seen Namjoon exhibit even a hint of frustration at any animal outside of the human race, not even at the teacup-sized puppy that used to live above them and yap all night long. Which is why one night, when Namjoon shoves their cat Sugar off his lap with more force than anyone would deem necessary, the elder knows immediately something is terribly wrong.
Sugar bounds away, startled and bristling. She peeks back over her shoulder at Yoongi as if to say, “What’s gotten into him?” before traipsing down the hallway, undoubtedly headed for the warmth of their bed. “Yah, Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi tuts, throwing the dish rag on the counter for emphasis. “What was that?”
Namjoon furrows his brows. “She kept trying to sit on my laptop,” he deadpans, fixing his angry gaze on the screen. “I can’t get anything done when she does that.”
Yoongi exits the kitchen and makes his way to the rear of the couch. “And since when has that led you to push her away like that?” Peering over his shoulder, Yoongi’s suspicions on the cause of Namjoon’s frustration are confirmed. Namjoon is working. Even though it’s nearly ten p.m. at night, and he only got home at eight, and he has to be back at work at seven a.m. - Namjoon is working.
He’s been working a lot recently.
When Namjoon doesn’t answer, Yoongi leans forward and wraps one arm around the younger’s shoulders. His mouth brushes Namjoon’s ear as he mutters, “I asked you a question, Namjoon-ah.”
Namjoon attempts to shrug the elder away. The rejection pangs Yoongi’s heart but also hardens his resolve to actually discuss what’s been going on — because this isn’t the first night he’s been in a mood like this. It’s not even the second or third. It’s been weeks of short answers, yawning over dinner, and late-night huddles over his laptop.
“M’working, hyung,” Namjoon grumbles. He doesn’t sound angry or frustrated, just exhausted.
Yoongi brushes a hand through Namjoon’s hair, and that seems to do something. The younger subconsciously leans into the touch. He stops typing, eyes dropping just when Yoongi begins to lightly scratch at his scalp. “You’re always working, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says. He doesn’t want to sound too judgmental - he knows work is important to Namjoon - but it’s hard not to hate the job that consumes all of his boyfriend’s time. “You need to take a break.”
Namjoon lets out a sigh that could propel a sailboat across the Atlantic. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut tightly enough that Yoongi worries he’s in pain. “I can’t take a break,” Namjoon states through gritted teeth. “I’ll fall behind.”
“How could you possibly fall behind? You work all day and all evening.” Namjoon falls silent once more. Yoongi watches. Waits for an answer. Instead, a single tear streams down Namjoon’s cheek, and suddenly he’s crying, tiny sobs bubbling out of him.
Yoongi springs into action. He rounds the couch and settles next to the younger, pressing close to him. “Joon-ah, baby,” he soothes, wiping Namjoon’s cheeks with his thumb. “Baby don’t cry. Come here.” After Yoongi moves the laptop to the coffee table, Namjoon folds in on himself and tucks his head into Yoongi’s neck. Despite his broadness, Yoongi still manages to wrap both arms around Namjoon and hold him close. He rocks him gently while shushing his cries and pressing light kisses to Namjoon’s temple. He feels impossibly small in Yoongi’s arms, uncharacteristic of the typically confident and proud man Yoongi knows.
“My love,” Yoongi whispers. “Tell hyung what’s wrong. I’m listening.”
“It’s just too much,” Namjoon confesses. “I’m never finished. There’s always another task, another demand. I knew it would be hard, but…” Namjoon hiccups pathetically. “But this just feels downright impossible.”
Yoongi’s heart aches for the man curled in his lap — his Namjoon, the center of his universe. When Namjoon had been offered the opportunity to assist a visiting curator for the MMCA, he had jumped at it. He was so eager at the beginning, brimming with excitement every time he got an email from his soon-to-be boss with details of his visit. Namjoon would arrange appointments for him with upcoming artists in Seoul, people that Namjoon worshipped, and he began to jot down his list of questions for them. Yoongi had never seen a man so ready to astound someone, to prove himself worthy.
Then the boss arrived, and it was nothing like Namjoon expected. Namjoon was not permitted in the initial meetings with the artists. While he had been prepared to brief the curator on the candidates, he found the curator didn’t want any background. “Their work must speak for itself,” he would say solemnly. Namjoon swallowed his expertise and kept his head down, assuming that with time and trust, the door may open. It never did. Namjoon was relegated to menial tasks like coffee runs, filing, and receipt tracking. He rarely set his eyes on a piece of art. And what at first seemed like the most promising ten weeks of his life quickly transformed into days of unending dread.
“I feel so useless, hyung, like I’m just a robot executing demands, but at the same time, I never get any of it quite right. The coffee is too hot or too cold, the meeting I scheduled should have been over lunch and not dinner. And for what?” Yoongi only hums, letting Namjoon rant. “This has nothing to do with art. I’m doing all of this work, and what am I getting out of it?”
“Have you tried asking for help? Talking to the head curator?”
Namjoon sniffles. Yoongi, unconcerned after so many years together about dignity, wipes at the younger’s nose with this shirt. “He just tells me I need to try harder to connect. But how? The man’s a stone wall. Most of the time, when he talks to me, he gives me a one-syllable answer. Unless it’s to tell me what I did wrong.”
Rubbing circles on Namjoon’s back, Yoongi ponders Namjoon’s situation before hesitantly saying, “I know there are only two weeks left. But maybe you should quit.”
Namjoon doesn’t reply. In the silence, Yoongi can concentrate on Namjoon’s haggard breathing and the faint stench of sweat. When was the last time he even showered? Yoongi wonders.
“I can’t do that,” Namjoon whispers, unsure. “I signed a contract.”
Carefully, Yoongi pushes Namjoon upright and shifts their position by throwing a leg over Namjoon’s lap and settling himself on top of his toned thighs. Namjoon instinctively grabs Yoongi by the waist and holds him in place as the elder cups Namjoon’s tear-stained cheeks in his hands. He forces Namjoon to make eye contact with him as he asks, “How long have I known you Kim Namjoon?”
Namjoon stares at him, slightly confused. “Thirteen years,” he answers.
Yoongi nods. “And in all that time, when have I ever bullshitted you?”
Snickering, Namjoon replies, “Are we counting that time you told me you’d platonically take my virginity?”
Yoongi pinches Namjoon’s cheek. “No, we are not because that was not bullshit. That was a genuine offer. It’s not my fault I didn’t know you didn’t want the experience to be platonic.”
“I definitely didn’t,” Namjoon clarifies fondly. Yoongi is pleased by the beginnings of a smile forming on Namjoon’s plush lips. “Then the answer is never. You have never bullshitted me.”
“And I’m not going to now,” Yoongi forcefully states. “You look like shit, Joon-ah.” Yoongi drags a thumb under Namjoon’s eye as he elaborates, “You have dark circles under your eyes, and your hair is greasy. You’re not eating enough, and you’re losing muscle because you don’t have time to work out anymore. Your skin is paler, and you’ve got patches of stubble from not shaving properly.” As Namjoon starts to pout, Yoongi adds, “You are still and always will be the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. You could grow a beer belly and lose all your hair, and I will still love you all the same, but this is not you. Kicking our cat off the couch? That’s not you.”
Namjoon, ashamed, breaks eye contact with Yoongi. Yoongi places a delicate kiss on his cheek, letting him know it is alright. “I am very committed to spending the rest of my life with you,” Yoongi softly declares. “And I am going to be so mad at you if that gets cut short because you worked yourself into an early grave. You have to acknowledge when too much is being asked of you, baby. You have to be able to tell when you’re overextending yourself. Which you are. Right now.”
More tears trickle down Namjoon’s face. Yoongi wipes them away patiently. “I don’t want to feel like a failure,” Namjoon croaks, still not looking at him. “Which I will if I quit, especially with so little time left.”
Yoongi kisses him, not caring that he can taste the salt of his tears or that Namjoon barely responds. “You are not a failure,” he deadpans, leaning their foreheads together. “The only people that have failed are them because they did not create an environment where you can succeed. It’s not on you, jagiya.” Namjoon hugs Yoongi a little tighter until their chests touch, and Yoongi realizes this is the most intimate embrace they’ve had in weeks. “The choice is yours, Joonie; I just want you to be happy,” he says candidly. “But I’m a very selfish boyfriend, and I miss you so much. Even when you’re right here, you feel so far away.”
Namjoon kisses Yoongi this time, a quick peck on his lips followed by a trail down his jaw and neck. “I want to be here,” Namjoon swears against Yoongi’s throat. “I always want to be here.” He pulls away and gazes directly into Yoongi’s eyes once more. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.”
“It’s not your fault. Although I think Jimin is starting to worry about our relationship,” Yoongi teases.
“Jimin? Why would he think that?”
“I haven’t been contributing to our group chat,” Yoongi elaborates, trying to lighten the mood. Namjoon takes the bait.
“Group chat? What group chat?”
“With Jiminie and Taehyungie,” he states as if it’s obvious. “Bottoms tell each other everything, Joon-ah, you should know that by now.”
Namjoon grins, half endeared and half confounded. “Oh yeah? How much do they know?”
“They know enough. Just don’t tell Hoseokie and Jungkookie about it, please. Jimin doesn’t want to wound their pride.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes. “What about Seokjin-hyung?”
“Oh, he definitely knows. I’m pretty sure he dictates some of the texts to Taehyung - they’re suspiciously complimentary.”
Namjoon laughs. The sound is better than anything Yoongi could ever compose. “Can I read them?”
“Of course you can,” Yoongi promises. Namjoon hugs him again. The hint of stubble on his cheek tickles Yoongi’s throat, but he doesn’t care. He would love nothing more than to be swallowed by Namjoon’s arms, trapped in his embrace forever. “I’m so proud of you, Namjoon-ah. If quitting is what you want, I will support you and be proud of the work you’ve done so far. But even if you don’t, if you choose to see this through, I will still be proud of you.”
Namjoon nods. They sit like this for several minutes in comfortable silence until a tiny meow interrupts the moment. They come apart and simultaneously look down at the floor to meet Sugar’s expectant stare. She cocks her head at them, asking permission to join them. Namjoon pats the couch next to his thigh, and she jumps up without hesitation. She nuzzles his leg once with her head before curling up there. Namjoon strokes her back with his hand. Within seconds she’s purring, tail swishing happily.
“I’m sorry, Sugar,” Namjoon says desperately. “Oppa didn’t mean to yell at you.”
Yoongi watches his boyfriend beg their cat for forgiveness and thinks no one in the world deserves Kim Namjoon.
The next day, Yoongi is just re-entering their apartment when he gets a call from Namjoon. He frowns at his phone screen. It’s unusual to hear from his boyfriend in the middle of the day unless it’s to tell him he’ll be working late or to send a very short text letting the elder know he’s thinking of him. But a phone call? Unprecedented.
“Joon-ah?” Yoongi answers.
“Are you home?” Namjoon queries, sounding flustered.
“Yeah, I just got back from a client meeting. What’s wrong?”
“I quit.” Yoongi gasps, overlapping the laugh floating through the phone. “I don’t want to be anywhere but with you right now. Is that okay?”
Yoongi smirks, proud. “Of course, baby. Come home.”
Namjoon bursts through the door with renewed energy. His cheeks are puffy, probably from crying, but there’s a calm smile on his face as he wraps Yoongi in a hug. His hands wander beneath Yoongi’s oversized t-shirt, and the elder shudders. He’d missed the feeling of Namjoon’s big, warm hands on his cold skin.
“They wanted to extend the contract by two weeks,” Namjoon explains, unprompted. “But I couldn’t do it - not for another day.” Yoongi massages the back of Namjoon’s head, soothing him as he starts to cry again. “I’m so tired, hyung. And I missed you so much.”
“I’m right here,” Yoongi assures him quietly. “You did so well, my love. It’s okay. Let it all out.”
Namjoon cries for a long time. When he’s done, Yoongi prepares them something to eat, and Namjoon helps for the first time in weeks. Even though it causes great stress to watch the younger one try to peel a carrot, Yoongi feels so thankful to have him next to him and not coming home to eat leftovers. He feels even more grateful when he leads Namjoon to the couch and they curl up together with Sugar watching a trashy real estate show and insulting all of the couples. Yoongi pours them each a glass of whiskey, which becomes two, then three. Namjoon’s cheeks grow pinker and his touches become more affectionate with every drink. By the time their third glass is empty, Namjoon is whispering slurred words of love and fidelity into Yoongi’s shoulder. The elder decides it’s about time they go to bed.
Namjoon checks on his bonsai tree, whispering words of affection to it, then shuffles into their bedroom with Yoongi in tow.
Yoongi removes Namjoon’s clothing reverently but not sexually. For tonight, he wants his boyfriend to feel cared for, tended to. They can make up for lost time in other ways tomorrow - after Namjoon has gotten some rest. Namjoon sinks into the bed like a man deprived for months. Once Yoongi has shut off all the lights, Namjoon tugs the smaller man to him and holds him to his chest, silently daring the elder to try to escape. Yoongi makes zero effort to resist.
“Love you,” Namjoon murmurs, the smell of whiskey lingering on his breath even after brushing his teeth.
“I love you, too,” Yoongi echoes just before he slips off to sleep.
The blare of Namjoon’s phone awakens them the next morning. Frowning deeply, Yoongi rolls on top of Namjoon to reach the younger’s nightstand. He picks up the phone and checks the time - 5:45 am. Namjoon had failed to turn off his weekday alarm.
Yoongi angrily punches off the alarm and then tosses the phone far from the bed. Namjoon’s body shakes beneath him when he chuckles. “What did my phone do to you, hyung?”
“Still trying to take you away,” Yoongi grumbles, resting his head on Namjoon’s firm chest once more. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here.”
Namjoon drops a kiss onto Yoongi’s head. “Yes, I am,” Namjoon promises.
Yoongi closes his eyes and attempts to go back to sleep. The steady rise and fall of Namjoon’s chest relaxes him, but unfortunately, the shock of the alarm has unnerved him too much to go back to bed. Thankfully, Namjoon voices the same frustration.
“I think my body is still on autopilot from getting up this early for so long,” Namjoon complains. “I’m wide awake.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi sighs. “Me too.”
Namjoon slides his hand to Yoongi’s hip and starts to rub a circle with his thumb right over the bone. He’s quiet for several seconds before saying, “We should probably work on settling Jimin’s worries.” He glances down at Yoongi with a smirk that sends a delighted shiver down Yoongi’s spine, looking more like himself than he has in weeks. “Don’t you think?”
As Yoongi crashes their lips together and feels Namjoon’s arms snake completely around him, he knows that Namjoon will be just fine.