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Namjoon finds Hoseok outside with less than an hour left in the year. It’s cold but not uncomfortable, especially with how warm their apartment has become. Namjoon brings him a sweater anyway.
Hoseok startles slightly when Namjoon opens the door, but he doesn’t turn to look. He gazes out at the city below them, bright and sparkling, gems scattered across an expanse of deep, dark velvet. Light from a neighboring balcony casts a shadow over Hoseok’s face highlighting all of his best features—the slope of his nose, the cut of his cheekbone—his brain supplies easily. Namjoon allows his eyes to roam along the sharp line of Hoseok’s jaw until they fall on his soft mouth, bottom lip full and tempting.
Hoseok is handsome. Hoseok is beautiful.
Namjoon’s chest tightens. They’re not new thoughts, exactly. He’s thought of them objectively, but here, they feel new, especially in this context of wanting. Wanting Jung Hoseok, Namjoon has to laugh. His best friend, his forever-roommate—their running joke for the past ten years that doesn’t feel quite as funny anymore.
Hoseok still doesn’t look at Namjoon, but his mouth lifts into a smile. Pretty, Namjoon allows himself again. His chest feels warm. It’s fine, this is fine.
“Whatcha thinking about, Joon-ah?”
Namjoon makes some kind of shocked grunt, surprised to be caught out. “Nothing,” he says, finally coming up along Hoseok’s side. He’s a shit liar, they all know that, Hoseok especially.
Hoseok allows the lie though, just as Namjoon knew he would. “Okay,” he says with an easy nod and smile. Namjoon holds the sweater out to Hoseok. He makes no move to put it on so Namjoon drapes it over his shoulders.
“What about you?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you thinking about all alone out here?”
Hoseok is back to looking out at the city. “Oh, you know. Nothing. Everything.” Namjoon nods, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he looks out at the city, wondering what Hoseok sees. “It was too loud in there,” Hoseok adds, pulling the sweater tighter around him. He sounds tired, heavy.
Their annual New Year’s party has been unfolding in their apartment for the past five hours. They’ve hosted it for four years, ever since the two of them could afford a bigger, slightly nicer apartment. It’s the biggest one of their friend group, and the only one that can comfortably hold the seven of them and a select group of other friends and acquaintances. After four years, they’ve gotten it down to a science, but it still takes a lot out of Hoseok, no matter how much Namjoon tries to help. A week of shopping and cleaning all culminating in hours spent being the best, most social host.
Before Namjoon can say anything, Hoseok nuzzles his cheek against the fabric of the sweater. “Is this yours?” he asks, peering over at Namjoon with a sly grin. Namjoon blinks at him, eyes wide, feeling stupider with each passing second. “Smells like you.”
Namjoon’s cheeks burn; he’s pretty sure he’s sweating. God, Namjoon’s a mess. “Sorry,” he says a beat too late, but Hoseok just laughs and says it’s fine.
“I like it. You always smell so good, Joonie.” Hoseok’s voice is sugar-sweet, alcohol-soaked, not as heavy as before. “As long as you haven’t come straight from the gym,” he adds with a giggle, poking at Namjoon’s side.
Namjoon exhales a big laugh. This feels normal, comfortable.
“Thank you,” Hoseok says and enough time has passed that Namjoon isn’t sure if Hoseok is still talking about the sweater. Hoseok sighs and leans into Namjoon’s space, like he’s been caught in a breeze. “My Namjoonie.”
Namjoon’s throat feels tight all of a sudden. “Yours,” he chokes out, but Hoseok is already moving away. It’s true, more than Hoseok will ever know, more than Namjoon had even realized up until recently.
A week ago Namjoon realized he was in love with Hoseok. A week and two days ago Namjoon’s girlfriend, Ji-young, broke up with him. “I’m in love with someone else,” she had told him. She sounded so sorry, but it didn’t hurt the way it should have. They had been dating for eight months, he should have felt more upset, but he was stuck on her next words. “I think you may be, too.”
He didn’t know what she could mean. “What?”
“Oh, Joon,” Ji-young looked sad, tears welling in her eyes, fat drops stuck like diamonds along her lash line. She was always an easy crier, sympathetic like Jeongguk or Jimin, always pretty. She put a hand on top of his. “The next time you see Hoseok, I want you to really look at him. Okay?”
Namjoon felt like he was missing something huge, something obvious, but then Ji-young was wiping at her eyes and giving Namjoon a hug. They gathered up her things around the apartment, some clothes and house slippers, a few books that made their way onto Namjoon’s shelf, and just like that Ji-young was out of his life with one last kiss to his cheek.
That afternoon Hoseok had come back from a weekend spent with his boyfriend, Si-woo. Namjoon hadn’t realized how much he had missed him until he was placing his shoes neatly on the rack and hanging up his coat. Something loosened in his chest just by looking at Hoseok’s bright smile and warm eyes. He didn’t let himself think too hard about what Ji-young had said, but over the next two days Namjoon found he couldn’t stop looking.
Things fell into place after that. He was in love with his best friend. How stupid, how cliche, but not the end of the world, Namjoon had decided. He could survive this.
The Realization, as Namjoon had taken to calling it in his head, was welcome, actually. Namjoon could finally explain why he never felt anything other than acceptance towards any of Hoseok’s partners over the past decade, why none of Namjoon’s own relationships lasted more than a few months. He could finally accept something that his friends spent too much time arguing over, that his last two boyfriends looked an awful lot like Hoseok (though they were poor imitations).
And maybe the most damning realization of all, was that Namjoon’s favorite time always seemed to be when they were both single. When their evenings were just for the two of them, when he didn’t have to share.
The year after their military service was one of Namjoon’s favorite years. They had enlisted at the same time with the small hope that they could serve together, but if not, at least they’d have similar return dates. Hoseok came home a month earlier and lived with Yoongi and Seokjin while he made arrangements for his and Namjoon’s new apartment. Namjoon trusted him, knew that he’d find something they both would love, and he did. Of course he did.
That year it felt like they were starting over again, relearning everything they had missed in each other’s absence. Sure, they hooked up with other people occasionally, but nothing lasted longer than a night or two; neither of them felt the need to date. They spent time at home with each other or their friends more often than not. When they weren’t home Hoseok was dragging him to clubs and forcing Namjoon’s limbs to move in ways they never could before his service, and most certainly could not now, but it made Hoseok happy. And Hoseok did his best, too, going to museums and galleries whenever Namjoon asked him to.
By the end of that year, it felt like all Namjoon had done was pass the time making sure Hoseok was as happy as he could be. Sometimes it felt like Hoseok was trying to do the same. Maybe they were both just making up for lost time.
Here they are, six years later, and Namjoon has finally caught up with his own heart.
Namjoon is tipsy enough—drunk, maybe—on soju and beer, and the very nice whiskey Yoongi brought with him, that he asks Hoseok, “Have you heard from Si-woo?”
Namjoon doesn’t care, really. Si-woo is in America right now, left two days ago, and frankly Namjoon is happy he doesn’t have to deal with him tonight. Doesn't think he could stomach a midnight kiss between the two, or Hoseok dragging Si-woo by the hand to his bedroom.
Hoseok turns his head a fraction, just enough for Namjoon to see the slight dimple form when he grins: something a little sharp, a little devastating. Hoseok is known as the light one, the sunshine of their friend group, but sometimes he has this bite, a snarl in him that could rival Yoongi on his worst days. He doesn’t show it often, usually turns it in on himself, but Namjoon has witnessed it, and it’s here now, under Hoseok’s skin. His gaze is heavier than Namjoon anticipated, scrutinizing, when he finally faces Namjoon.
Namjoon hopes his own face is neutral enough, wonders if Hoseok finds what he’s looking for. Ever since The Realization, Namjoon has felt like he’s been so obvious, like his eyes have permanently morphed into hearts when he’s around Hoseok, or that he turns a jealous shade of green when Si-woo is mentioned.
After a moment Hoseok shrugs, then looks back out at the city. “He’s going to a party tonight with his friends. It’s only afternoon there.” He sounds bored. Namjoon wonders how much longer their relationship will last and who will be the one to finally break it.
Namjoon imagines tending to Hoseok’s broken heart now that he knows what he does about his own. And it will be broken, no matter who ends their relationship. Hoseok never likes breaking up with partners, never does it flippantly. Namjoon imagines bringing Hoseok slices of fruit, tucking him in with a blanket while they watch his favorite movies. He imagines waiting up for Hoseok when he locks himself away in the dance studio, trying to lose himself in the music and the movement so he doesn’t have to think about anything. Namjoon imagines watching Hoseok pretend he’s fine when he’s not, and all the while Namjoon will have to bite his own tongue, keep his own feelings tucked behind his ribs.
“He said he misses me.”
“That’s nice,” Namjoon says carefully. He can’t get a read on Hoseok or what he’s feeling right now. He does this sometimes, keeps things close and quiet, so he can stay light and easy for those around him. That heaviness is back in his voice now and Namjoon desperately wants to reach between them and scrape out whatever is weighing heavy in Hoseok’s chest and hold it for him so he doesn’t have to bear the burden all on his own.
He can see Hoseok smile, though, a fish-hook tugged grin, just at the corner. After another moment, Hoseok asks, “Where was Ji-young, again? Why couldn’t she make it?”
Look at me, Namjoon thinks, pleads with his eyes, but Hoseok still isn’t looking at him. Hoseok has had most of this conversation with the skyline and it makes Namjoon ache.
“Oh. She broke up with me.”
Hoseok whips his head toward Namjoon, eyes wide and dark, something angry and intense simmering there. His mouth is set in this harsh line that Namjoon desperately wants to soften.
Hoseok is handsome. Hoseok is beautiful.
“Namjoon, what the fuck? When did that happen?”
Namjoon scratches at the back of his neck. Maybe it was better when Hoseok wasn’t looking at him, when Namjoon didn’t have to face Hoseok head on. Now it’s his turn to look out at the city.
“A week ago, sort of.”
A week and two days, his brain supplies weakly. A week ago I realized I love you. Namjoon has had just enough alcohol that he can feel the words on his tongue, can imagine what they would sound like in the chill December air, but he’s not drunk enough to let them loose.
Hoseok frowns, but his eyes are gentle. Always so gentle when it comes to Namjoon.
Fuck, Namjoon loves him.
“A week ago,” Hoseok repeats. “Shit, Joon. I’m sorry I didn’t even notice.”
Namjoon shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s okay. It wasn’t bad, she’s just in love with someone else.”
Hoseok snorts. “You say that like it’s nothing.”
“I’d rather have her happy with someone else than be miserable with me.”
“Who could be miserable with you?” Hoseok asks the skyline, quietly. Namjoon isn’t sure if he was meant to hear him, but he pretends he didn’t for both of their sakes. Then Hoseok is watching him again, trying to figure something out. Trying to figure Namjoon out, maybe. Namjoon feels like they’re having three different conversations and he doesn’t understand any of them. “You’re sure you’re not heartbroken?”
Namjoon scoffs, rolls his eyes. Not heartbroken, but something else, for an entirely different reason. “I’m fine, Hoba. Really.”
“God, what a shitty best friend. A week, and I didn’t even realize.”
Namjoon shakes his head as he reaches out for Hoseok’s hand, holding it tightly. “You’re not a shitty best friend, Hoseok. Don’t say that.”
Hoseok looks down at their joined hands with wide eyes and Namjoon thinks maybe he’s overstepped. They don’t do…this. Physical comfort is something Hoseok reserves for their other friends, something Namjoon rarely initiates.
Hoseok doesn’t let go.
Namjoon doesn’t know how much time passes with just the two of them outside, holding hands. He wonders how close they are to midnight, but doesn’t want to risk breaking this moment by pulling out his phone. They’ll know soon enough when it’s midnight. Besides, Namjoon doesn’t think this would be a bad way to ring in the New Year, Hoseok’s hand in his.
“Hey, Joonie,” Hoseok starts, voice quiet. Namjoon rubs his thumb along the back of Hoseok’s hand.
“Yeah, Hoba?”
“Are you happy?”
Namjoon frowns. “What?”
“Are you happy?” he says again. Namjoon opens his mouth, not at all sure what he’s about to say, but Hoseok begins again. “Not— Not relating to Ji-young, just. You know, just in general. Are you happy?”
At this, Hoseok finally looks over at Namjoon, eyes searching, like he’s trying to find something in particular. Namjoon desperately wants to give Hoseok whatever it is, whatever he wants. But he’s tipsy—drunk, maybe—on good whiskey and his proximity to Hoseok.
It’s possible Namjoon will regret this tomorrow when everyone is gone and it’s just the two of them in their quiet, empty apartment. Hoseok will look sleep-rumpled and beautiful, he’ll be close enough to touch, and all Namjoon will be able to do is look because Hoseok is dating someone else, because they’re best friends and roommates, never meant for anything more.
Sometimes he wishes he never listened to Ji-young, he wishes he never looked.
So maybe he’ll regret it tomorrow, but tonight he wants to be selfish. He wants Hoseok to look at him, really look.
“I’m happy when I’m with you,” Namjoon says quietly, the most honest he can be without holding his own heart in his hands for Hoseok to see.
Hoseok makes this startled sound, a laugh that’s been strangled before it could grow into the beautiful sound Namjoon is used to hearing from Hoseok. His eyes are wet, too, and Namjoon’s heart feels so heavy all of a sudden. He can feel it sinking to the pit of his stomach, like a boulder dragging him to the bottom of the sea.
Maybe he’s already beginning to regret this admission. He can feel it, roiling his insides, this mix of anxiety and shame. Hoseok has always seen what’s at Namjoon’s core, the softest parts of him. Of course he’s looked at Namjoon, of course he’s seen him.
Hoseok’s face is twisted up into something complicated that Namjoon doesn’t know how to read, but at least he’s looking at Namjoon. At least he hasn’t let go of his hand.
“What about you?” he asks when it’s clear Hoseok isn’t going to say anything else.
“What about me?” Hoseok asks with a sad smile. He’s looking down at their connected hands, watching his own thumb swipe back and forth along Namjoon’s hand.
Don’t make me say it, Namjoon thinks. He wants Hoseok to be happy, whatever that looks like. And he’s not expecting Hoseok to say the same thing, that it’s Namjoon that makes him happy. His expectations are set, but that doesn’t make him any less afraid of Hoseok’s response.
“Are you happy, Hoseok?”
He doesn’t respond right away, instead Hoseok tugs his hand out of Namjoon’s and holds it with both of his own. He runs a finger down Namjoon’s palm, maybe along his life line, then up again. Namjoon can’t suppress his shiver, but Hoseok doesn’t look up, probably thinks it’s from the cool night air. Namjoon feels like he’s burning up from the inside out.
Hoseok plays with one of the rings Namjoon is wearing, turning it around his finger. Namjoon isn’t sure what’s happening, feels out of his depth. “Hoba?”
Hoseok’s fingers still, but he doesn’t look at Namjoon. “I’m happy sometimes, Joonie.” Then he dips his head down and presses the softest kiss to the center of Namjoon’s palm. He continues to hold Namjoon’s hand when he finally meets Namjoon’s eyes and says, “Only sometimes.”
Namjoon’s heart cracks a little more. Hoseok looks so sad, but he’s smiling—a small, hurt thing Namjoon has only seen a handful of times. He doesn’t know how to fix what’s just happened between them, doesn’t even know if he’s the one who’s broken it, but with the way Hoseok is watching him, it feels like there’s something he’s holding back.
He wants to ask Hoseok, or say something more, anything to make him smile, but Hoseok’s phone starts ringing, he can see the shock of it through Hoseok, can hear the buzz of it in his pocket. Hoseok releases Namjoon’s hand and Namjoon misses him immediately. “Shoot, it’s almost midnight,” he says with a wet giggle as he slides his phone out of his pocket.
Hoseok flashes the phone at him just then and Namjoon is met with a cute selca, Hoseok and Si-woo’s faces pressed closely together with Hoseok’s eyes scrunched in perfect crescents. “I’ve got to take this,” Hoseok says brightly, though it sounds forced to Namjoon’s ears. He’s not sure whose benefit it’s for. Hoseok sniffs one last time before accepting the call, taking a large step away from Namjoon.
Namjoon misses the warmth of him already.
“Baby!” Hoseok’s voice is loud and cheery as he presses the phone to his ear. He tosses Namjoon an apologetic look over his shoulder before making his way into their apartment. “I didn’t realize you would call, that’s so thoughtful of you.”
As Hoseok closes the door, Namjoon notices Yoongi watching Hoseok move deeper into the apartment before his gaze finds Namjoon out on the balcony. He raises his glass in a toast, a question in his eyes, but Namjoon just waves him away. He doesn’t feel like going inside right now, doesn’t want to be pressed in by all of those people, all that noise.
Namjoon pulls out his own phone from his pocket. One minute until midnight.
He spares one last glance out towards the city, wishing to be anywhere but here. Then he looks down at his palm, remembering the feel of Hoseok’s mouth against his skin.
As his friends count down the last few seconds of the year, Namjoon brings his hand to his mouth—a kiss transferred—settling for what he can, telling himself it’s enough.
When he next looks up at the door, after however many minutes have passed, he’s surprised to find Hoseok’s eyes on him, serious and sure.
It’s always felt special to be seen by Hoseok, but Namjoon could never explain it, the feeling he would get having Hoseok’s attention on him—warm and bright, honey in his veins. He could never explain why he always looked away first.
Namjoon matches his gaze.
And Hoseok... Hoseok ducks his head, a hint of a smile there, gone before Namjoon can tuck it away for himself.
Then Hoseok is lifting his hand, offering a small wave from behind the door, lights from the balcony making shapes across his face. Namjoon just makes out, Happy New Year, Joon-ah, on Hoseok’s lips. There’s a laugh caught in his eyes now, his smile has grown wider. Then Jeongguk is latching around his middle and pulling him back into the room, making Hoseok giggle, loud and bright, his whole face glowing.
Hoseok is handsome. Hoseok is so very beautiful. And he’s enough. However Namjoon can have him, it’s enough.
Namjoon smiles.
“Happy New Year, Hoba.”