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Yoongi’s used to not sleeping much.
He gets five hours a day if he’s lucky. Yes, day, because sleeping during the night is practically impossible for him. It’s like his brain works like an owl’s, or a vampire’s. 2am is when he gets the most creative, and the very reason why he had a soundproof studio built in his spare room; just because he can’t fall asleep at a normal time, doesn’t mean all his neighbors shouldn’t, too. And Yoongi thought it to be common sense, really; don’t turn on music past 10pm.
Then, he got a new neighbor.
Yoongi noticed the move. He was told by one of the ajummas living in his building that the couple living next to him had gotten a divorce and given up their lease, and after that, he witnessed, but mostly heard, as they moved out and this new guy moved in. The first few weeks were very silent; only a laugh or the dramatic music of a drama passing through the wall. But one night, close to 1am, his neighbor put on a show.
Quite literally.
The man started to do karaoke, and, to his credit, he set his microphone and the background music to the lowest possible volume, but even so, it was still loud enough for your next door neighbors to hear. He went on singing for about half an hour. Yoongi shrugged to himself and went on with his night, quickly lost in his work. It happened again the following night, though. And the one after that, and, during the weekend, the karaoke started earlier, at 9pm, and, surely, louder, because noise was allowed.
After a week of it, Yoongi had two things in his mind.
First; his neighbor is dying to get a noise complaint.
Two; his neighbor has the prettiest voice he has ever heard.
His name is Jeon Jungkook, Yoongi learns through another ajumma as he’s riding the elevator. She lives on the 3rd floor, so she obviously didn’t hear all the singing. All of her comments about him surround the fact he’s young, has moved in to live alone, is very, very handsome, and a darling , who offered to take her shopping bags to her apartment for her.
Yoongi only listens, of course, because he hasn’t met the man and has nothing to add. Also, Yoongi’s not a man of many words. Not when there isn’t a mic nearby, at least.
It stays with him, though, and it’s quite bothersome.
That night, after the talk with the ajumma in the elevator, Yoongi sees himself not in the studio, or browsing through Netflix, but in his barely used balcony instead. Looking out into the night, waiting to see (or better, hear) if his new neighbor, the darling Jeon Jungkook, will do karaoke again. Yoongi wonders, as the clock ticks by and the streets get quieter, what does this man look like, how young he is. Actually young, or young by that ajumma’s standards of youth? Her standards of beauty?
It’s so stupid. Too stupid. Stupid enough to make Yoongi want to curse at himself for being so silly. He’s 31. Why the fuck is he thinking of a stranger whose voice is the only thing he actually knows about him at 2 o’clock in the morning? That’s the kind of thing teenagers do; daydream, fantasize. Well. Of course, that is also the kind of thing insomniacs do. There’s something about the night and knowing almost everyone near you is sound asleep while you stand, restless, thinking, rummage through unwanted memories of things you could have done differently, moments that are over a decade old and find themselves suddenly at the forefront of your mind that make his insomnia almost haunting, but that’s what insomniacs do. Rummage , regret, haunt. Not think about their neighbors and their possible beauty, possible youth, possible kindness and very real beautiful singing voice.
“Hi.”
Yoongi turns to his right. There, on the balcony next to his, stands a very young and very handsome man. He’s looking at Yoongi with big eyes, glasses on. Long, curly hair. Entirely black outfit.
“Hello,” Yoongi replies, sort of not even processing the fact he’s talking to the person he was thinking about just a second ago. It gives him a bit of chills and also makes blood rush into his cheeks.
“An insomniac, too?” Jungkook asks, arms resting on the steel. “Or is it just an unusual night for you?”
It kind of hurts Yoongi’s ego a bit, that Jungkook hasn’t noticed him the way he has noticed Jungkook, but that’s just Yoongi being dramatic; he has a soundproof studio and he barely leaves the apartment. Also, he hasn’t just moved and is the hot topic of all the ajummas in the building.
“Almost all my nights are like this,” he mutters, shrugging. “I normally fall asleep at around 5. Most days I have to wake up before 9. So, you do the math.”
Jungkook laughs, squeaky and pretty, so Yoongi adds that to the small list of things he knows about the other man.
“You sing really well,” Yoongi hears himself say; either because he hates awkward silences or because he doesn’t want their short interaction to end. Maybe both. Or even a secret third thing. Fuck. He’s so tired. “Your IU covers are especially amazing.”
“Oh, no ,” Jungkook whines, covering his face. “I really thought I was singing low enough, I never hear anyone doing anything. I thought the walls were very thick.”
Yoongi smiles. “It’s not that the walls are thick, it’s just that most people who live here are very old and usually go to bed before 8pm. I had to make one of my rooms entirely soundproof just to be able to work in peace after I moved in.”
“You have a soundproof room?” Jungkook gapes. When Yoongi hums in agreement, stupidly happy in having this stranger’s entire attention, the man adds: “What do you work with?”
“I’m a music producer, so that means I have a good ear.” Yoongi hugs himself at a particularly harsh rush of wind. “And you do really have an amazing voice. Have you ever sung professionally?”
“No…” Jungkook keeps those big eyes on him. “But I, uh, I love singing. I hate that I need to be so quiet all the time, because singing is like breathing to me. Actually, I don’t know why I never tried that. Maybe I was scared of failure.”
Yoongi breathes out a bit of air.
“Oh, we’re getting deep already? But we don’t even know each other’s names.” A little harmless lie. He smiles towards his neighbor. “I’m Min Yoongi.”
“Jeon Jungkook.”
“Well, Jeon Jungkook, you are welcome to come to my soundproof studio when you don’t want to be quiet with your singing.”
Yoongi can hardly believe these words actually came out of his mind, but even before he has time to process them, Jungkook replies:
“When?”
And, without giving himself time to process these words, too, Yoongi says, with a smile tugging the corner of his lips:
“One of your sleepless nights.”
Yoongi’s not used to having people over in the middle of the night.
That might make him sound like a loser, but there’s not much to it. His friends come over sometimes, and sometimes they stay until later, but most times, they don’t. And Yoongi isn’t much of a one night stand kind of guy, and he can’t even remember the last time he had a relationship, so, he’s not used to opening his door to someone else at 3am, but this is what he’s doing now.
Jungkook’s bunny smile is all he can focus on.
“Hi,” the younger man says (because Yoongi knows so much more about him now that they have spent three nights in a row in their respective balconies discussing life and the world and philosophy and cats and how badly Brokeback Mountain deserved that Best Picture award, and also, that he was born in 1997) as soon as Yoongi swings the door open. “Can’t believe you actually agreed on me coming over at 3am.”
“It’s not like I’m gonna go to bed or anything…” he chuckles, watching as Jungkook removes his slippers and starts walking over Yoongi’s marble floor with very cute Spider-Man socks on. “Marvel fan?”
Jungkook hums, “I couldn’t find plain ones, so I had to accept my faith of embarrassing myself in front of you. Which I was already gonna do, anyway, because I came here to sing. In front of a producer. Like, I’m really shameless.”
“You’re really good,” Yoongi corrects, guiding him to his soundproof room (that he did not spend the entire day cleaning and reorganizing to look cooler than it normally is, nor did he borrow one of Namjoon’s art-collector paintings to put on one of the walls). “So, this is where I spend most of my sleepless nights.”
“ Daebak .” Jungkook looks around, points at the painting. “Pretty. You have good taste in art. I think. I don’t know much about art, actually, I just think this one is pretty, ah, I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“There’s no reason to be nervous, we’re here for you to have fun at karaoke, not to record a song over and over again until it’s perfect.” Yoongi offers him a microphone. “See, a normal one, not a recording one. Now, tell me what you wanna sing.”
Jungkook grins. “IU.”
“Of course,” Yoongi scoffs, sitting down in front of his computer to search for IU’s new song, Love Wins All, in Karaoke. He turns to Jungkook, dramatically opening his arms. “The floor is yours. You have a crowd of one.”
“More than I had a few nights ago,” Jungkook mutters, and then he closes his eyes, mic close to his lips. “ Dearest, darling, my universe… ”
Yoongi takes a deep breath.
He’s used to this type of thing. Singers and their beautiful, mesmerizing voices. Yoongi heard him through the wall separating their apartments. He knew, even with concrete separating them, that Jungkook had the prettiest voice he had ever heard. But now , as the younger man sings so beautifully, so full of soul and emotion, right in front of him, Yoongi can’t move. He doesn’t even have a word to describe it.
Jungkook’s in slacks, Spider-Man socks, it’s 3am . And yet. He’s hitting every single note of a song that Yoongi knows is difficult. And he has techniques, too. Jungkook lowered it a bit, to match his tone. He’s practiced it before. But did he even warm his voice before coming over? Yoongi sits there, jaw slack open, as this long-haired, bunny-teeth, sleeve-tattoo being exists in his soundproof studio, singing out his heart.
“So, how did I do?” Jungkook asks once the song is over, big deer eyes focused on Yoongi. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and coughs a little. “My voice failed a little a couple times, I’m sure you caught that, but I did alright, didn’t I?”
And Yoongi, because he’s stupid, because it’s 3am and because he has never in his entire life felt this range of emotion so late at night while sober and in company of someone else, says:
“You’re perfect, Jungkook-ssi. Just perfect.”
Yoongi’s now used to Jungkook coming over during his sleepless nights.
It happens two or three times a week. He’ll shoot him a text, a simple one, always consisting of the question “awake?” and, always, Yoongi replies, “naturally”. Jungkook comes over in his slacks and often plain socks, and, as of late, Yoongi has noticed Jungkook applying a little bit of lip balm. He doesn’t comment on it, why would he, and it’s probably because the Winter is harsh, and has nothing to do with him.
Sometimes, they don’t go to the soundproof room. Jungkook likes to hangout. He brings six packs, some new receipts he’s been trying, and once, he asked if Yoongi liked to play chess. Yoongi doesn’t, but he told Jungkook he did, so, that sleepless night, he lost to the younger man four times in a game he doesn’t particularly care for. Is this what the kids call having a crush ? Yoongi’s not used to that.
“Are you awake, hyung?” Jungkook asks through a phone call, a couple months after he moved in. “Oh, of course you are, you answered- or maybe I woke you up, oh, hyung, I’m so sorry-”
“Jungkook, when have I ever been asleep at 1am?”
Jungkook hums. “A few times. I texted and you didn’t answer. Felt lonely.”
“And what did you feel before you met me?” Yoongi asks, absentmindedly, turning on his bed (he was getting ready to try to fall asleep at a semi-regular time tonight, but Jungkook doesn’t need to know that). “Two months ago, you didn’t have me to spend your sleepless nights with.”
“Yeah, I didn’t, so I just stayed lonely,” Jungkook replied, and the honesty of his words tugs at Yoongi’s chest. “I’ve been dealing with it for a while. Loneliness. Unwanted thoughts, the neverending fear of failure. I think that’s why I sing. It’s like the songs blow the bad thoughts away. Like fairies protecting humans from witches and dragons. Ugh. That was a childish analogy.”
Yoongi smiles. “Childish analogies are okay.” He gulps down, blood pumping fast in his ears. “And Jungkook?”
“Yes?”
“You’re okay, too, because I got you.”
The few seconds of silence that follow his own honesty pass with held breath and anxious butterflies taking flight inside Yoongi’s loins.
“Can I come over, then?” Jungkook asks, voice small. “If you got me.”
“Yeah, come over,” Yoongi scoffs as he sits up on his bed. “Always come over.”
And he didn’t know what he was expecting when he opened the door to Jungkook that night, but it certainly wasn’t for the younger man to wrap his tattooed hand on Yoongi’s night gowl and bring him closer, looking him dead in the eye and whispering, oh, so softly:
“Since you got me, and I got you, can I kiss you, hyung?”
When he nods, Jungkook smiles. He closes the distance between them, such a small distance, and presses their lips together. Yoongi hears the door close behind them, but if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t matter, because nothing matters anymore. Not the meeting he has later today at 8am, not the deadline he has for Friday, not even the fact he’s pretty sure his breath smells like whiskey, because Jeon Jungkook kisses him so passionately, so delicately, so breathtakingly.
Yoongi’s not used to that. To be kissed with so much adoration. Jungkook wraps his fingers on his hair, the other hand on his hip, and pulls back, just to look at him, and Yoongi, for the first time in fifteen years, feels like a teenager.
“I love spending my sleepless nights with you,” Jungkook mutters, still so close. Yoongi can feel his breath against his lips. “And I love the taste of whiskey on your tongue.”
“You do?” Yoongi whispers, hands on the younger man’s shirt. “Taste it again, then.”
Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head before leaning forward and locking their lips together again, tongue rolling inside Yoongi’s mouth as if it belonged there, and maybe it does. Maybe Yoongi’s hand belongs under Jungkook’s sweater and their bodies belong flushed together on the couch.
And, maybe, all they needed to find it, was to live next door to each other, and go out into the balcony at the exact same time, on the exact same sleepless night. Jungkook’s the one who believes in stuff like that, but Yoongi likes that it has started to rub off on him.
As the months go by and they become more serious, their sleepless nights start being spent on the same bed; talking, reading, watching, listening, laughing, loving. And Yoongi, in all of the years he spent awake alone at night, with ghosts of his past to haunt the dreams he didn’t have, never thought he would get the chance to fall asleep before the sun was up while holding hands with someone that understands him more than he understands himself.
Cliché, he knows.
But everyone can get used to clichés. They are the best part of being alive.