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“That’ll be five thousand won.”
Yoongi stared blankly ahead as the man in front of him fumbled, teetering to the side as he shoved a hand into his pocket. Yoongi watched him rather dispassionately as the man stepped dangerously close to a rack of magazines before he steadied himself, hand emerging with a wallet. For the next several seconds, the store was quiet apart from the man muttering under his breath as he counted the change. If he wasn’t so dead tired, Yoongi would’ve been more bothered at how long it was taking this clearly drunk man to do some basic arithmetic. But it was 3 AM, no one else was in the store, and the last time Yoongi slept was bordering on seventy hours ago.
For all Yoongi cared, the man could’ve pulled a gun out of his pocket instead, and Yoongi would’ve wept with joy at the opportunity to get some sleep. Dead or injured, sleep was still sleep, right?
Soju and snacks purchased, the man soon disappeared off into the night with his liver murdering purchases, and Yoongi was left alone in the store with only his thoughts for noise in company.
Sighing, Yoongi let his head thunk down onto the counter.
Three more hours to go…
There was the devil’s hour shift at the convenience store, as Yoongi affectionately dubbed it, which followed an entire afternoon and evening of making deliveries. With the morning hours free, the siren call of his bed would be enticing and irresistible for most, but for Yoongi, it was often overlooked in favor of the one time he was free and thus, able to do what he existed on this earth for.
Producing music hadn’t been the most glamorous of gigs. Yoongi would know, especially with how often he used to be ripped off, aware of it and still unable to do much. But with this new, start up company reaching out to him and pretty much hiring him immediately after hearing a few of his samples, Yoongi would say that producing was starting to bring in a more steady trickle of money.
But at the end of the day, that’s all it still was; a trickle. And one needed a whole flood of money to be able to make it in Seoul.
So. Delivery duties from midday. The convenience store right afterwards. And slaving away over the few equipment he managed to save up for at his own home studio, producing beats that would show the world who he was.
Nevermind the fact that his home studio was actually just a corner of his studio apartment. Or the fact that technically, he was so far producing under a stage name with no need for his real name or face to be disclosed to the general public.
But hey, progress was progress, right? A year ago, he couldn’t even have a beat credited under his name. And now, if the company he was – warily – working for was to be trusted, then he’d soon have an entire album with his name listed on it.
And all Yoongi had to do was figure out was why this melody sounded so jarring. And then get started on the lyrics for this and a couple of other songs. And he hadn’t even begin laying out the beat for one of the songs he was planning for…
Yeah, even the mattress on his floor would welcome his sore muscles with open arms, but Yoongi didn’t have time for sleep just yet. He could sleep when he was dead – but that wasn’t happening until he finished these songs, that was for sure.
There was no reason for Yoongi to feel cowed right now. Especially not by a man younger than him. And yet, that was exactly what was happening right now, and Yoongi was not appreciating it.
“You really don’t have to be doing this,” he muttered, pulling at his sleeves until it covered his fingertips. The action made him realize that the hoodie he was wearing only covered him so well because it in fact, belonged not to him, but the person opposite him.
Yoongi studiously avoided the man’s eyes – not that he’d been making much eye contact in the first place – but even more so now that he could feel the heat in his cheeks.
“And you don’t have to be working yourself to death, but it looks like we’re all going around, giving in to what we want to do instead of what we should be doing. Is that right, hyung?”
The audacity of this man, to use the honorific with such disrespect. Nevermind the fact that if anyone could pull it off, it was definitely him. And, well, Jungkook, but the kid was still shy most days than not, so it was a bit of a toss up with that one.
“What does that even mean,” Yoongi mumbled helplessly, twisting his fingers in the fabric of the hoodie – until a large hand reached into his vision and settled atop his fumbling ones, stilling them.
“It means that I could be admitting you into a hospital if I thought it would get you to sleep, but I’d rather have you in my arms instead.” There was no way he just said that. Yoongi glared hard at the table, trying – and failing to ignore how his entire head felt hot at the statement.
“Yah,” he protested. He pulled his hand free, only to pause, and then hold the man’s large hand between both of his. “When did you become so cheesy,” he complained, but internally, he was feeling far too giddy at the warmth of the man’s hand in his, the easy way in which he intertwined their fingers.
“I want to say when I started dating you, but you’ll probably find stuff I wrote that was just as cheesy from even before that.” There was a slight bashfulness to the man at that, and yet, his grin was still unapologetic, dimples prominent.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Of course.” It was silent for a bit, but Yoongi knew the man was waiting.
He sighed. “Fine.” He got up, rolling his neck and bouncing in place a bit before he pointedly made eye contact, ignoring the heat in his cheeks as he stretched out a hand. “Let’s go to sleep. But you better stay for the whole three hours.”
Even as he took Yoongi’s hand and stood, the man cocked an eyebrow. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep for only three hours, hyung. You haven’t slept in days, you need so much more than that.”
Yoongi shrugged, already leading the man to the nest of his mattress on the floor of his apartment, at the opposite corner of his music equipment. “Then stay for as long as you think I should be asleep then, I don’t know.” He turned to look at the man over his shoulder even as he crawled onto the mattress. “Unless you have busy, producer duties to attend to?” It was a joke, but it mostly also wasn’t. If he had to leave because of some deadline or inspiration, Yoongi honestly wouldn’t be able to blame him.
But the man only shook his head. “Nothing that can’t wait,” he waited until Yoongi kicked off his jeans and got under the blanket before joining him, immediately wrapping him up in the cocoon of his large arms. Generally, Yoongi made a show of grumbling in discontent whenever someone touched him. But here and now, with no one else to see him, and with the urgent need to lose consciousness actually making itself aware from the corners of his mind, Yoongi would be more ready to admit that being wrapped up against this particular dongsaeng’s body was far more comfortable than it had the right to be.
“And besides, Yoongi hyung,” the man propped himself up on an elbow to peer down at Yoongi. Fighting the urge to hide himself by burying his face against the man’s chest, Yoongi tried to meet the man’s stare evenly. “You have to know – you come first, hyung. Even before music.”
It was a statement Yoongi often had trouble comprehending, music being such an integral part of himself. But he understood it all the same, and it was that, that had Yoongi finally giving into the urge to hide his face, groaning. And yet, there was a part deep within him that was all too pleased at the statement, which had Yoongi wrapping his own arms around the man in return.
”Shut up and go to sleep.”
His grumbled protest elicited a deep chuckle, the action causing the chest he was plastered to to practically vibrate against him. “You first, hyung.”
“Aish, the disrespect.” The smile that still tugged at Yoongi’s lips was hidden from sight, but the man could probably feel it against his chest anyway. Yoongi didn’t mind. If ditching all his obligations wasn’t indication enough as to how important this man was to Yoongi, then this moment itself would be a dead giveaway.
And Yoongi knew that Namjoon knew that too, if the tightening of his arms around Yoongi was any indication.