Work Text:
From this Place Where the Sun Breathes, I Call for You
He heard the soft click a second before the phone disconnected.
As a frown line began to appear between his tightened brows, Seokjin lowered the device from his ears, ignoring the robotic voice sending him to voicemail in favor of clicking the circular red icon at the bottom of his screen, effectively ending the failed call.
In the silence that followed, Jin simply stared at his phone, lips pressed tightly while he contemplated weather to try one last time, thumb hovering over the familiar contact icon.
BigHit Kim Namjoon
A small, involuntary smile tugged at the tip of his lips.
At first, the naming pattern had been just a reminder of his teenage self, reflecting the awkwardness of a younger son suddenly thrust in the place of older hyung, still unable to bond or truly understand the six boys that were supposed to be like an extension of himself for the next seven years or so. Later, though, when he mentioned this tidbit at an interview, it had already become something of a joke between the members, a fond memory they would unearth teasingly every now and again – and so, Jin simply decided to leave things be.
Yet, in this particular night, the sight on his phone screen only managed to make him more anxious, a nervous energy beginning to bubble under his skin as his finger reached forward and pressed redial. Hopping against hope this third attempt would bring a different outcome.
At this time, most members of his military unit had already finished their calls and vacated the room, leaving only Jin and a supervisor, responsible to make sure none of them would go beyond their allotted time for the day.
Seokjin only had some ten, fifteen minutes left now, and as the seconds passed by without an answer, he couldn't help feeling ever more acutely aware of a pair of eyes trained on his back, the unknown soldier at the door not even bothering to mask his curious, almost confused expression.
Usually, his phone time was rather rambunctious, filled with good-natured chatter amongst family members and the eventual jokes with the other members – Junkook, in particular, managed to be just as annoying through the phone as he ever was in person, as if the younger was trying to make sure his hyung didn’t forget about his cheeky self during those twenty four months.
(Please, as if Seokjin could ever forget him! He actually had a few scars and contusions named in his honor!).
The phone rang a third, fourth time, the sound too loud against his eardrums, seeming to echo against the empty walls on the relative silence of the room.
Thinking in retrospect, he probably should have known something was not quite right when the group chat had been silent, lacking the usual bustle and all around wave of happiness after an award nomination list had been released – and with so many indications at that. But then again, with their private schedules all over the place, Yoongi-chii just beginning his military service and Jungkook living at Incheon Airport more than at his apartment unit, things were chaotic enough for the uncommon behavior not to raise any red flags.
In fact, Jin had been about to send the members his own congratulations when Jimin sent him a message.
It had been such a short sentence, so few words – and yet, the construction of it, the way his unsaid worry hung between the characters on the screen, managed to make Seokjin’s blood run cold.
Suddenly, it felt like his chest was held into a tight grip, the stuffiness on his lungs making it hard to breath.
From: BigHit Park Jimin
Hyung, please try calling Namjoon-hyung? I can’t reach him.
It was only then that it clicked for him. That Seokjin noticed — amidst the long list of nominations…
There wasn’t a single one for Namjoon’s solo album.
The phone rang a fifth time, signaling it was about to go to voice-mail once more.
“Come on, come on…” he mumbled, eyes darting around quietly as his fingers played with the frayed edges of his jumper. “Come on, love… Please, pick up the phone”.
Jin had been by his side during those four years as INDIGO went from an idea into an actual, concrete project.
More than once, he’d woken up in the middle of the night to Namjoon staring unseeingly at the half-finished lyrics of Wildflower, had felt the younger’s tears soaking the fabric of his clothes and sear deep into his skin as draft after draft was thrown away; as his Namu opened himself raw and spoke of his loneliness, his regrets, his hopes, his love…
His bright, overwhelming love.
In many ways, INDIGO had been Namjoon’s very own self-portrait during those ten years of Bangtan, a present for army and himself, a piece of his very soul.
And yet… His expectations had been so painfully low.
“I know the risks, hyung. It is a different project… I understand not everyone will like it.”
I know not everyone will like it.
Such inoffensive words, such a reasonable outlook... So why, to Seokjin's ears, they had sounded like "I knew not everyone would like me"?
As if his lover was admitting to a painful sin, accepting that many who listened to this project would not accept the mismatched pieces that made the flawed Kim Namjoon under the mask of RM?
The phone rang a sixth time, and then a seventh one.
At the door, the soldier squirmed, preparing to tell him his time would be over soon.
Jin’s eyes fell closed, the knot in his throat tightening as he tried to breathe against the burning on his eyes.
He only needed to hear his voice. Only needed to make sure he wasn’t lost inside his mind again – wasn’t listening to the dark, painful whispers he could conjure like anyone else.
An eighth ring. Jin took a deep breath, grip tightening against his phone.
He would try again.
Just one more–
- a soft clicking sound, the quiet that followed indicating the line had finally connected.
Jin stilled, body tensing as his brain rushed to process this new information.
Namjoon had picked up. He’d finally answered.
Unconsciously, Jin turned further away from the entrance, hiding the slight shake to his fingers by pressing the phone even closer to his skin.
“Namjoon-ah?” he called, voice barely above a whisper.
On the other side, though, there was only the raspy noise of someone else’s breathing, the sound low and slightly irregular – like they were fighting to keep themselves under control.
“Joon-ah?” Jin called again, “Joonie, please say something?” He asked, voice breaking in the last word, meeting only the same silence that seemed to swallow all the air inside the room.
For a moment, Seokjin thought he wouldn’t receive an answer, thought his only acknowledgment would be the quiet breathing of his boyfriend on the other side of the line.
But then he heard it.
“I…” Namjoon stopped, voice rough and tentative, lower than usual – and yet, it still felt so heartbreakingly beautiful to Seokjin’s ears, the older allowed himself a second to hope it would be okay, that Jimin had been worried for nothing.
Maybe this is why his next words felt like a sharp knife digging deep into Jin's very heart.
“I just… I guess I needed a hug today, hyung.”
Seokjin closed his eyes, tears sliding at the sides.
Namjoon had reiterated over and over again that he didn't really care for numbers or awards, that his only goal was reaching the people that needed him, making music that would touch other's hearts. But who was Joon trying to fool? Of course he cared – they all did. Even Jin couldn’t help the slight twinge of sadness at the absence of his name amidst the other boy’s on that list.
More than that, though, Jin knew it wasn’t only the lack of nomination for the MAMA’s that had affected Namjoon so much. He knew that this was simply the culmination of feelings that had been gathering for a while – and Seokjin ached. His chest burned with the urge to weep at hearing his strong, wise boyfriend sounding so small and broken. So vulnerable when in a place Jin couldn't reach for him, couldn't properly comfort him as he deserved.
“I’ll be back this weekend, okay?” He promised instead, ignoring the wobble to his own voice. “I have some days to cash up… So I’ll go to yours on Sunday, okay? Will you be back already, Joonie?”
There was a sigh on the other side, not quite relief, but almost there. Enough to loosen the knot strangling the life out of Seokjin's chest.
“Y-Yeah, I…" he gulped. "Yeah. I’m coming back to Korea on Saturday”.
“Than it’s decided. I’ll go see you, alright love?” He pushed, wishing to engrave the words inside his head, wishing his promise could drive the clouds away even if for a moment. “Please wait for hyung, Joon-ah”.
This time, when the answer finally came, it sounded stronger, more assured.
“I’ll always wait for you, hyung.”
It was the first truth Namjoon had hidden from Kim Seokjin.
It was also the one that would be forever laid bare between them.
.
.
.
The next time Seokjin picked his phone, he found the last Dispatch photos of Namjoon arriving at Incheon airport on his way to London (a post from Jungkookie on the group chat, the gremlin). The idol wouldn’t usually take a second look at anything publicized by that particular gossip-rag, but he’d been so worried after disconnecting the call, it felt like he needed proof that his boyfriend was still in one piece, still moving forward and overcoming whatever had been weighting him down.
So he took a moment to examine the images on the screen.
Namjoon looked just as beautiful as Seokjin had remembered from Yoongi's last Encore, but now, the sharpness of his eyes and creamy tan of his skin had been highlighted by the silver-white color of his short hair for all to see. He was wearing a mask, and yet it was possible to see his eyes were happier, his stance just as relaxed and posed as usual. Scrolling lower, Jin ignored the gifs and stickers, stopping just to read the actually typed sentences and snorting at Taehyung's words.
From: BigHit Taehyung
Namjoon-hyung!!! I still want to pet your head!! TT.TT
"Ah, this kid, really" Seokjin chuckled at himself, sending an angry gif of himself before leaving the GC. "There is no respect for seniority these days..."
He was about to answer a clearly agitated audio from his mother (something about too much coriander and an upset stomach) when he noticed it, right under their chat group. Sometime between his jabbing t the maknea line and considering calling his brother to solve whatever had gone wrong at home, he'd received a private message from the very man responsible for most of his recent bout of stress-induced insomnia. According to his notifications, there were just a few brief words and a single mp4. archive.
Curious, Jin connected one of his wireless EarPods and clicked on the small link, eyes growing wide as the words written in sharp black on the screen melted between the lyrics.
From: BigHit Kim Namjoon
I’ll bring you a blue flower, hyung.
In his ears, the old demo version of Truth Untold felt like a hug, one his boyfriend was sending in the only way he could until the two were finally able to meet.
“Seems like I also needed a hug, after all” he whispered to himself, blinking away the wetness clinging at his eyelashes as a small, found smile softened his features and brought light back to his eyes.
When he typed back, his answer just as short – and yet the words felt too large to be contained by the screen.
From: WorldWideHandsome Boyfriend
I love you too, Namjoon-ah.