Chapter Text
In the end, all of this, every single bit of it, is because of ducks.
Now, to many people (like Hoseok, who won't stop staring at him), this may not make sense. However, to Namjoon, as he sits on his couch staring at his friend and his concerned lopsided expression and tries to remember that panic attacks are not appropriate at the moment despite the crawl of anxiety under his skin and the itch in his eyes, it makes perfect sense.
This is all because of ducks, because ducks can shut off half of their brains at a time, continue surviving in the natural world, and don't need to sleep with both hemispheres of the brain simultaneously. Namjoon isn't a duck, can't control his epinephrine and cortisol levels like that, has no influence over how his brain refuses to shut down or continue operating, and frankly finds all of this to therefore be entirely unfair.
"It's going to be okay," Hoseok tells him, using that slightly timid indoor voice that is, quite frankly, terrifying. Namjoon has heard him use it in only very specific locations and situations (a museum, a funeral, and that one really, really bad break up). Hearing it now just further cements how serious this is. "Namjoon, we're- we’re gonna figure this – you - out."
If Namjoon were a duck, it wouldn't be an issue to shut down half of his brain, to regulate the stress hormones his body releases that affect, well, everything. Instead, Namjoon would be able to continue working, continue living, and actually do all the stuff he needed to do as he alternatively shuts down one half of his brain at a time.
Instead, fate is cruel and unkind, and Namjoon is not a duck. Which brings us to here and now where Namjoon sits on his couch, hands shaking a little bit, eyes itching with the general feeling that he's had gasoline instead of coffee for breakfast, and faces a very worried and sympathetic looking Hoseok.
Hoseok is here because Namjoon hasn't slept in three days (it happens) and just had a very significant thing happen the other morning that frankly scared the shit out of him.
"Are you still taking the sleeping drugs?" Hoseok asks.
"The doctor told me I needed natural sleep," Namjoon answers numbly, staring at his hands and trying to swallow down the overall feeling of anxiety that has gotten steadily worse the less sleep he accumulates. “He made me chew valerian root and drink hot water.”
“Did it work?” Hoseok asks, one eyebrow raised significantly.
“What do you think?”
It all started when Namjoon began to work more, job picking up and material coming in, and there just weren't enough hours in the day. So, just as he usually did, Namjoon made more hours in the day and took a few away from his sleep cycle. It had worked, at first. It was kind of sustainable, but then more work turned into less hours sleeping and more deadlines and less time spent with Hoseok and Yoongi and every other person in Namjoon's phone contact list.
It turned into Namjoon not being able to sleep at night from too many coffees and lying awake at night worrying over deadlines and eventually getting up and stressing over the deadlines before working on them until sunrise. It turned into Namjoon taking sleeping aids and drinking that weird lavender tea Seokjin recommended with his nice pretty smile and none of it really working.
There were alternatives, mostly carnal, that worked. Every time. It sounded crude in the doctor's office though to explain 'I force myself to sleep in a post-coitus cool down' so Namjoon mostly left that out.
It had worked, for a while. It had worked, and Namjoon kept his dignity by not telling his close friends the only way he got to sleep at all was by knocking off a few before face planting into bed for a few hours before his brain woke back up.
It had worked, and then, suddenly, two mornings ago, it hadn't. To be more specific, nothing worked.
Staring at himself, breaths shortening with the familiar tight feeling of anxiety and looming deadlines and the need to sleep before three in the morning, Namjoon had panicked.
Namjoon had panicked, and had called Hoseok at three in the morning and, in his lack of sleep delirium, had blurted out, "I think insomnia made me impotent!" loud enough to get a bang on the wall from his neighbor.
Which leads them back to here, now, with Hoseok looking at him in oddly subdued sympathy, a few cups of tea between them, waiting for something to happen, and Namjoon brooding over the injustice of life where he is not a duck.
In short, life is a bitch.
The thing is, Namjoon called Hoseok at three in the morning in a demonstration of lack of thinking, and then Hoseok did something, much as Hoseok is want to do when faced with friends screaming at him at obscene hours of the night. Hoseok called Yoongi (not at three in the morning. Hoseok is sane) and told him, and subsequently Seokjin therefore found out.
So now, here they sit, Namjoon not sure what the lavender tea can really do for him as Hoseok looks on, waiting for the other half of this restorative circle to arrive. They'd done research on the effects of stress, on overworking, on the body basically going 'fuck you' when exposed to prolonged stress, and, of course, Namjoon fit the bill.
The issues with digestion, the severe headaches, the insomnia, the raised anxiety, muscle aches and pain, fatigue, and even the issues with his reproductive system all checked out. The culprit was stress, and Namjoon didn't really see how this 'intervention' would help.
He'd cut back a little from work, but that hadn't done much except remind him how very little he ever did except work. There was no time for 'stress reducing activities’ when he had to produce another album for at least five different people and mix tracks all day and night. Of course, keeping up the work meant arguing with Yoongi, and Namjoon knew better.
Everyone knew better (except Seokjin, but that is full of weird, and Namjoon does not want to get involved in... whatever ‘that’ is).
"Do you think-" Hoseok begins but is interrupted as the doorbell to Namjoon's apartment rings.
"Fucking finally," Namjoon sighs, standing up shakily only to be pushed back down by Hoseok. "I'm not an invalid, I can answer my own door."
"I don't want you to stress yourself more," Hoseok tells him, and makes a 'stay there' hand gesture before walking to open the door. Seokjin and Yoongi file in quietly, Yoongi half hidden behind a scarf that's too heavy for this early for September and Seokjin with a patient and kind smile.
"How are you doing?" Seokjin asks, sitting down next to Namjoon on the couch as Yoongi steals Hoseok's chair. "Hoseok told us that you-"
"Can we not?" Namjoon sighs, dropping his face into his hands and just praying they don't get into the conversation Yoongi will inevitably end with, "you broke your dick, genius."
"Actually, no," Yoongi says flatly. "We can, and we are doing this bullshit. You can just sit there and be interventioned and grateful your friends give a shit that you can't-"
"Anyway," Seokjin cuts him off easily, smoothly, expertly, laying a hand on Namjoon's knee. "What Yoongi is trying to say is that we're concerned." Yoongi lets out a sort of sigh, but he is watching Namjoon with that intense look that Namjoon recognizes as his 'concerned and not okay with things' look. "You've been taking- well, you haven't been doing that great lately, so we all tried to think of ways to help."
"I can't take more hours off," Namjoon protests, sitting up straighter. Namjoon likes his job, that's the thing. He likes the work, the intensity, the inspiration and the music and the rush of that world. It's just that he kind of forgets about himself in the midst of it, and then it's been two days since he slept or ate.
"We're not telling you to," Yoongi says firmly. "Do you think we'd suggest something we knew you wouldn't listen to?"
"We found something else," Hoseok explains, finally stepping into the conversation. "Or, I mean, I-"
"We," Seokjin emphasizes.
"Found you something that will help," Hoseok finishes.
"Especially since you won't try homeopathy or acupuncture," Seokjin adds, and Namjoon lets out a soft moan into his hands in despair.
"How is sticking needles into a person-"
"Don't trash it until you try it, man," Yoongi interjects, and Namjoon watches him shrug as he peeks through his fingers. "That shit works."
"But since you don't want to do it-" Seokjin continues.
"We figured something else out," Hoseok finishes. Then he finally grins for the first time that night in his genuine full faced sunshine smile, whipping out something from behind his back to present to Namjoon.
It's a card. Well, a card and a flier.
"Isn't this from where you work?" Namjoon asks him, skeptically.
"Just open the card, Namjoon," Seokjin says evenly, poking at it.
"Happy Birthday, chum," Yoongi tells him, watching as Namjoon carefully, trepidatiously, rips open the envelope.
"My birthday was two weeks ago," Namjoon reminds him absently, barely glancing up from the card and half shredded envelope (every damn time).
"And we tried to take you out to celebrate," Hoseok reminds him. "Remember?"
"No?" Namjoon tells him, looking up with a frown.
"That's because you were locked in 'the good room' for two days straight and missed it," Yoongi tells him bluntly, an exasperated sort of amusement on his face. "It's your own fault your gift is late."
Inside the envelope is a card, very cute and colorful and with way more glitter than Namjoon thinks his short circuiting brain can tolerate right now (probably Yoongi's fault - or Seokjin just being, well, himself). Inside the card, aside from a few very generic thoughtful sentiments about how much his friends give a shit about him, is a voucher for-
"Guys," Namjoon says, staring at the voucher, well, gift card. "This is-"
"You don't have to thank us," Seokjin tells him carefully.
"No, I want to be thanked," Yoongi amends, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Go ahead and sing our praises. We're fucking saints."
"I can't-" Namjoon's throat is dry. This- well, it's not a session of acupuncture (which is thankful, considering Namjoon knows they all know how he deals with gifts like this), but it is somewhat terrifying none the less. The card contains a voucher - gift card - for classes.
Yoga classes.
Beginner stress reducing yoga classes and Namjoon can't remember the last time he was able to bend over to pick up something from the floor without feeling his body protest. Sure, he should work on his flexibility, but he's seen the shit Hoseok gets up to in his own personal yoga that's a bizarre combination of his dance stretches and kundalini breathing exercises.
"You can," Seokjin tells him, squeezing gently at Namjoon's knee. For most people, this might appear to be a comforting gesture. For Namjoon, he can easily read between the patient and even tone in Seokjin's voice and knows that he may as well be given an ultimatum. Yoga classes aren't optional. "Hoseok and I already arranged with your instructor, who is very nice, to help you if you get stuck."
"The staff really good," Hoseok reassures, leaning against the side of Yoongi's chair, arms crossed but smiling. "I know them, set up the classes and everything to make sure it would work. He's worked with both me and Seokjin before. Solid guy."
"So he's one of the alternative medicine people," Namjoon concludes. "Am I going to be lectured on how my chi is blocked?"
"No," Seokjin says with a soft laugh. "I mean, it is, but that's besides the point. The main point is they can help, and I think you'll like Yoga once you get into it."
"It's very restorative," Hoseok elaborates. "I worked with a personal yoga instructor back when my back was giving me issues. It's amazing what that stuff can do, and it's really good with stuff like insomnia for people like you with all your-" he makes a very complicated hand gesture, face contorting.
"People like me?"
"Those who hate exercise," Yoongi explains. "It gets you moving off your lethargic asses. Look, just do it, okay? You're sick, like, broke your dick sick, man. We're trying to help you, not make you suffer. Try it. If you hate it, then get pissed at us. For now, just be grateful and take the fucking classes."
"I didn't break my dick," Namjoon mumbles under his breath, glowering at the card in his hands that shakes a bit due to the constant tremors that now run through him.
"You called me at three in the morning because you couldn't get hard," Hoseok reminds him flatly. "Crying."
"Look, if it doesn't work, then try something else," Seokjin says easily. "But we made sure you could take this class. It's on your nights off, and if you really need, Hoseok or I can go to the first few classes with you."
"No!" Namjoon says hurriedly, jerking to look up at them.
"I'm not going with you," Yoongi tells him bluntly. "So it's one of them or lone wolf."
"And we'll know if you go or not," Seokjin tells him, that kind 'don't argue with me' smile on his face. "Hoseok is friends with everyone in that program, so we'll know."
"Just say 'thank you'," Yoongi tells him, a bit of concern leaking into his voice as he watches Namjoon and thumbs at the edge of the coffee table in front of him. The words 'we're worried about you, asshole' are silent, but Namjoon can hear them in Yoongi's silence, in the stare directed at him from across the living room.
Hoseok is the one that voices it aloud. "We're just worried," he explains, dropping his arms from over his chest. "We care about you, hence why we're showing up on a weekend to try to talk to you and stage an intervention before you end up-"
"Dead," Yoongi says flatly.
"-indisposed," Hoseok finishes with a small kick to Yoongi's chair. "Stop by my place before you go though."
"Why?" Namjoon asks, finally just looking up at his friends.
"Because you need yoga clothes," Hoseok explains. "And a mat. I'll let you borrow mine, the ones at the community center are gross."
"Thanks," Namjoon says weakly, letting out a shaking sigh, and looking back down at the card and flier. This isn't cheap, those classes he knows going for a pretty good price and filling up quickly. For his friends to pitch in to get him into one of the choice classes, even if it is beginner, is more of an effort than he would ever expect from them.
It's the intervention he never wanted to have but which he got anyway, and even through the stream of new nerves over going to a class where he has to move his body in strange and complicated ways he's not sure he wants to, he can't help but feel a bit comforted. A bit supported and relaxed and a little bit like crying (though that's probably because of the stress too). Medicine isn't helping, acupuncture is terrifying, most of the alternative stuff doesn't really work, and so here he is now being given another option by his three best friends all staging an 'intervention' because they care.
As much as Namjoon protests, as much as he is hesitant about going, he knows he's going to go. Refusing a gift like this is beyond his powers. On Tuesday evening, he'll be in that class with loose fitting clothing and no idea what to do, because that's just how it is, how he is.
His friends know it, which is probably why Seokjin wraps an arm around him and Hoseok lets out a loud sympathetic cry before flopping on him in a hug.
"You're welcome, Namjoonie," Hoseok tells him, hugging him aggressively. "This is going to be great. Yoga is amazing. You'll be better in no time once we get you breathing from your pelvis."
Namjoon balks, jerking away and accidentally elbowing Seokjin in the ribs. "My what?"