Chapter Text
The ride with Yoongi was uncomfortable.
Namjoon had a sneaking suspicion this was because Yoongi was trying to strike idle conversation, which was very unlike him. Namjoon knew Yoongi could be chatty when he wanted to be, but early evening on a Thursday in what had to be a too-long drive directly after work were not the kind of conditions that typical inspired Yoongi to want to do anything but sleep. Namjoon, unsure how to approach what was already an absolutely not ideal situation, felt itchy and out of place trying to deal with this strange and foreign Yoongi.
He was making it worse, is what he was doing. Maybe because he didn’t know how to anything but make things worse.
“How’s life?” Yoongi asked carefully, after Namjoon had returned questions about food quality (“Passable. Hate not getting a say in what we’re having.”) and hobbies (“No, Yoongi, I’m not making music anymore.” “For now, while you’re...in.” “Anymore, Yoongi.”) in a flat -- and probably unhelpful -- sort of way.
“Life’s going,” Namjoon answered, not sure how to change the way his voice sounded quiet and disengaged.
He was trying, honestly. But he felt muted and dimmed, here in the passenger seat of Yoongi’s car. He wasn’t one of those people who’d been dying to get out, try a burger, see old friends. He was more one of those people who’d kind of been dragging their feet on figuring out what was wrong, and then on getting better. He was more one of those people who’d been in too long, and now didn’t entirely know if he could make it ‘on the outside’ anymore.
Yoongi made an encouraging ‘go on’ type of noise in the back of his throat and Namjoon…floundered. “Life’s going?” He repeated, a question this time. “But…when you’re institutionalized it sometimes doesn’t feel like it?”
That was too heavy, Namjoon realized, as Yoongi didn’t seem to know how to answer. But it wasn’t a surprise, really, that those words had been the ones to spill out of him automatically. Because – for example, Yoongi had dyed hair. Yoongi’s hair was dyed, and last Namjoon had seen him it’d been black. It was a symptom, a sign of something Namjoon had been aware of, but was now seeing for himself firsthand.
He knew life was still going at breakneck speed without him there to witness or experience it. And Yoongi’s silence was understandable too, because what could he say in response to Namjoon pointing that out? There was no way to gracefully, kindly, say much of anything concerning life marching dutifully on to someone whose own life was currently at standstill.
~~~
Seokjin seemed excited to see him, when Namjoon shuffled in behind Yoongi into the well-lit and busy-looking kitchen. There were decorations and food and all sorts of party things strewn about, a whirlwind of a party-in-the-making. Namjoon wondered if Seokjin had help earlier in the day, or if this had all been him. Both seemed likely.
“Namjoon!” Seokjin exclaimed, as bright and busy as his kitchen, and immediately (pushed a protesting, whining Yoongi out the way and -- ) went in for a hug.
Namjoon swallowed, hard, and hugged him back, not hard at all. His participation in the hug was gentle and hesitating, as Namjoon’s eyes swept through kitchen for – other people. One person in particular.
But then Seokjin was pulling back, keeping Namjoon in hand and holding him at arm’s length to give him a once over.
Namjoon blinked, and found himself meeting Seokjin’s eyes instead of worrying about things, frankly, way beyond and out of his control. Seokjin was getting married. It was far too late to have input, good or bad, on who he was choosing to marry.
“You look so good!” Seokjin said, beaming like everything was situation normal and Yoongi didn’t just get back from picking him up from what his parents insisted on calling a ‘stress retreat’ in polite company; what Namjoon leveled with and called ‘the crazy house’; and what Yoongi, last time they’d talked before today, had called ‘a place you better take advantage of and actually get better this time’. Yoongi, more than anyone, had a point.
“Uh, thanks,” Namjoon said, because really, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be acting or talking or being.
Did he actually look good, or was Seokjin being courteous and encouraging? Namjoon cleared his throat, and decided to bite the bullet, asking about that – thing, that out of his control thing. “Where’s Jaehwan?”
Namjoon didn’t miss Yoongi’s eyebrow raise, as he slinked out of their way and off somewhere. He did ignore its implications, as Seokjin waved a hand, finally breaking his easy hold on Namjoon.
“Work, still. He’ll be here for the party and cocktails. You know.”
Namjoon nodded, even though he didn’t really know much of anything, and watched Seokjin pull away, going for the oven, all smiles.
“And this…isn’t the rehearsal dinner, right?” Namjoon asked, still a little confused.
If he were being honest, Namjoon had been confused since he’d gotten a wedding invite in the mail three months ago and found out that -- surprise -- his best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend were getting married after...maybe three, four years. Four going on five, almost, if Namjoon stopped to think about it.
Though the most negative of emotional responses had been soothed out with time and a few prying one-on-one sessions, he was still left wondering if four years (almost going on five) was or wasn’t too soon to decide you loved someone enough to spend the rest of your life with them. But that wasn’t Namjoon’s place to question.
He was trying to focus on the smaller things, the confusions he had a right to entertain and ask about. “It’s not, right? Because aren’t those usually the night before the wedding?”
Seokjin pulled a plate covered in foil out of the oven with an oven mitt, nodding. “Yeah they are. But mine’s not going to be on Saturday, either. We’re really busy since we’re doing a bunch of stuff ourselves and having it in the backyard, so I wanted the day before to be open.”
Yoongi had reappeared, a bottle in hand. He was watching Seokjin in amusement, and Namjoon felt like a sore thumb sticking out, the way he was left motionless in the middle of the kitchen, as Seokjin maneuvered around the kitchen counter.
“And it’s really not that weird for them to be two days before the actual wedding, either,” Seokjin was saying, nabbing a cork coaster out of some kitchen drawer. “And I thought about doing a brunch, that’s pretty in lately too -- but! Tonight’s not the rehearsal.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, going for a wayward bottle opener on the counter. “And finally, he gets to the point.”
Seokjin intentionally bumped a shoulder into Yoongi on his way past, making Yoongi stumble a bit. He didn’t even blink or stop smiling at Namjoon, though. “It’s just a get together, you know. Almost everyone who’s traveling is in town by now, so it’s a waste to not take advantage, I thought.”
Was that what it was? Namjoon shifted his weight on his feet, and nodded like none of this was news to him. “Makes senses.”
Seokjin sat the plate down on the table and pulled the seat in front of it out, nodding from Namjoon to it. “Sit down! Do you want some late lunch-kind of dinner? I kept it warm for you, since tonight’s more hors d'oeuvres and alcohol.”
Namjoon sat down gingerly in the offered chair, not sure where to look. He was still thinking about Seokjin’s mention of ‘everyone’. Who was ‘everyone’? Namjoon knew and -- before -- had kept in touch with maybe a handful of people. And of them, the people who he’d been in touch with lately were even fewer.
“I’m not drinking alcohol,” Namjoon said carefully, trying not to get caught up in Seokjin’s social butterfly tendencies. He said ‘not’, because ‘not’ sounded better. It sounded like a choice. ‘Can’t because of my medication’ sounded dumb and needy and attention seeking about the very thing he didn’t want to draw attention to.
Seokjin just nodded, not tripped up for a second as he flitted to the cabinets for a glass and then made a beeline for the sink. “Yeah, I thought about that -- there’s a lot of non-alcohol stuff too.”
Namjoon carefully unwrapped his plate and waved the steam away from his face. He was feeling like he was slowly thawing out, Seokjin not letting him stay isolated and hazy. He should have realized Seokjin would do that. “Uh, thanks, Seokjin. For the food and -- I guess. For everything?”
For inviting me. He definitely couldn’t say that, that for sure sounded pathetic. “And for letting me stay here for the weekend and...everything.”
Yoongi plopped down in the seat across from Namjoon, his bottle of (Namjoon squinted) hard lemonade now opened. He’d probably pilfered it from the coolers. If nothing about Seokjin had changed (but of course that wasn’t at all true -- ) then he probably still kept pre-party coolers in the garage.
Yoongi took a swig and nudged Namjoon’s foot with his own under the table. It was like there were no hard feelings over Namjoon giving him an admittedly hard time on the drive over. “Like Seokjin doesn’t just want to hog you while you’re out on bail. Steal you away from your parents, anyway.”
Seokjin sat down next to Yoongi, nudging a glass of water across the table to Namjoon. “Yeah, I want you right in the middle of everything with me. Your parents’ place is a good hour and a half away and I just...want you here.”
What, was he afraid Namjoon was going to run away? Pretend there was traffic and miss all of the festivities for Seokjin’s wedding? He could have just turned down the invitation, instead of going through all the trouble of the evals and extra group therapy it took to be okay-ed to be checked out overnight.
“Yeah, I guess it helps?” Namjoon said, picking at his food, not sure what else to say. He took a bite. It was, of course, delicious.
“They’re coming, though,” Seokjin said, reaching over the table to steal a noodle off Namjoon’s plate. “I’m sure you know, but -- your parents are coming to this thing tonight. A little early, before the actual soiree, because they told me they wanted to see you. In case you didn’t have a chance to turn your phone on and see the texts?”
Namjoon hadn’t, actually. He had been given his phone in a little plastic baggie that he was going to have to give back again upon his return. But with his ride waiting for him by the door, Yoongi saying, “you ready for parole?” as he finished signing whatever it was he had to sign to approve Namjoon’s already processed request to leave, Namjoon hadn’t seen a point in turning it on right away. He didn’t have any calls waiting, people lining up to contact him, so he’d just tucked it in his back pocket and forgotten about it.
He’d have to remember to turn it on now that he was out and about. He imagined there would be a lot of we need to know where you are at all times sort of vibes going his way this weekend.
So Namjoon nodded, even though he wasn’t surprised about his parents. He’d be seeing them at the wedding itself, of course, but certainly they’d want to check in with him before then if he wasn’t staying with them.
This was his first bid for freedom since he’d been checked in, after all. And while he’d been visited most by his parents while institutionalized, there was a pretty stark difference between visitor hours in a controlled environment and sitting here at Seokjin’s kitchen table, staring Yoongi and Seokjin in the face while eating some kind of casserole that Seokjin had had the forethought to keep warm in the oven for him.
“I figured,” he settled on saying quietly.
Looking at Seokjin, and then Yoongi, and then down again at his food, Namjoon wondered if this was going to be okay. He kept thinking about how weird he felt, being out and about. That feeling, being afraid of not knowing where he fit in anymore out here in the real world, was maybe was why he was moving so slowly towards getting better. He knew full well that he’d been in too long for what his actual issues were (which were kind of nonexistent, compared to what some of the other people living with him were dealing with -- and you weren’t supposed to compare, that wasn’t the point of group therapy, but still…), but he was scared of not being there all the same.
This was weird. It was weird; weird being back in Seokjin’s kitchen, weird thinking about Seokjin getting married -- to Jaehwan, of all people.
Or -- no. He shouldn’t think about it like that. To Jaehwan, just. To Jaehwan.
“Um. Thanks for inviting me,” Namjoon ended up saying after all, staring intently down as he kept digging into his food, all so he didn’t have to gauge their expressions. “You really didn’t have to.”
Seokjin shook his head so vigorously that Namjoon could hear him, even though he was avoiding eye contact. “Of course I did, Namjoon.”
(He didn’t, though. Really didn't have to.)
As if he could hear those thoughts, Seokjin reached over the table to grab Namjoon’s hand, and he held onto it lightly, reassuringly. “Seriously. I’m glad you’re here. I wanted you here.”
~~~
Namjoon was not prepared for all the fuss of a party though.
He faded into the background and watched, perched on a soft armed chair in the living room for the most part. Watched: people filtering in and out, Yoongi helping mount atmospheric lights while complaining, “You’re changing it for the actual wedding and reception anyway, you’re the most demanding groom-zilla ever,” and Seokjin looking like he was glowing with excitement and happiness.
The sun sank lower and lower in the sky, and things only became more bustling. No one really paid Namjoon any mind until his parents arrived, and he wasn’t complaining.
Namjoon was saved the awkwardness of Jaehwan coming in and probably being kind and charismatic to Namjoon while Namjoon stared at him and didn’t know how to act, because by the time Jaehwan made it in from work, Namjoon’s parents had made the three of them relocate to the little offshoot room adjacent to the main foyer.
Namjoon heard Jaehwan’s little chirrup of, “Babe! I’m home!” as he came in through the garage door, and Seokjin’s response of warm laughter, though. Everyone currently in the house did, it was so loud and silly and adorable. Namjoon wished he could be unabashedly happy about this whole thing and their whole relationship, but that was still difficult for him.
Namjoon did like it in the side room with his parents, though. That there was an outcropping wall meant he could hide behind it and be even more invisible than before, if he sat just right and angled behind his mother and father. This meant the onslaught of people that were beginning to filter in through the front door, something happening more and more frequently as the night began to set in and the start time of the party loomed closer, didn’t take notice of him and try to say hi. Didn’t try to place him and make introductions and small talk.
“You don’t want to mingle?” his mother asked after they’d gotten their own pleasantries, the ’How does it feel, being out for a few days? Do you think you’ll want to aim to finish your treatment soon and be out for real?’ and the ’Your old room is ready for you, if you ever get too overwhelmed being here’ all out of the way.
She looked worried as she continued. “We really just wanted to check in, we’re not trying to keep you from having a good time…”
Namjoon had never been shy, necessarily. But he had always been clear with himself, of the times he wanted to be social and when he’d rather hole himself up with music and a book, the solitude comforting. That had been exacerbated in some ways as of late. And he really didn’t know how to be here at Seokjin (and Jaehwan’s) house for Seokjin (and Jaehwan’s) wedding.
He was lucky honestly, no matter what Seokjin said, to be invited. Lucky that Seokjin wanted him here. He was determined not to mess that up for once. Mess that up, again.
“I’m fine,” Namjoon said, smiling to convince his parents. And he pretended it didn’t annoy him, just a little, the way they shared a concerned look between themselves before smiling and nodding encouragingly at him, like he wouldn’t notice.
~~~
The party, once fully underway, was stressful for Namjoon. His parents had stuck around and visited, given their congratulations -- and those of his younger sister, still at university -- to Seokjin and Jaehwan, and then bid their goodbyes before it got too late.
After that, Namjoon kind of had to integrate himself a little into the party. Which was the stressful thing, the sucky thing.
Wonshik was the first person he bumped into after venturing out of his corner of solitude, and it was maybe the worst possible thing. Wonshik smiled and asked, gently, like he would explode if someone talked to him too loudly or suddenly, if Namjoon was doing alright.
It set Namjoon’s teeth on edge, like he’d bitten into an ice pop, even as he smiled and chuckled, all fake calm and composure, and said, “Of course I’m alright -- and you?”
After about three minutes of stilted but honestly genial conversation (because Wonshik was nice and Namjoon knew that, just as much as he knew that they weren’t really friends and didn’t really know anything about one another -- except for one shared experience that was too personal and too painful to talk or think about), Namjoon found an opening in the conversation to escape and took it.
Wonshik, who had to have noticed -- because it was in no way subtle and Namjoon could feel himself fidgeting and how his eyes kept darting away -- let him get away with it with a soft smile and soft body language. It was a little worse like that, because it was Wonshik acknowledging their brief shared history, but Namjoon took what he could get.
After that, Namjoon looked around, both wanting to see someone he knew and hoping no one else tried to make conversation with him. There was Seokjin in the middle of his living room, the center of attention and entertaining a small gaggle of his guests. Namjoon didn’t see Jaehwan, but he wasn’t really going to start looking for him if he wasn’t in the immediate vicinity. That would be like Wonshik but a million, billion times worse. So, no.
Yoongi was sitting in a chair in the corner of the living room, the same chair Namjoon had taken up residence in earlier, and was chatting with -- or at least being chatted at by -- Seokjin’s younger cousin, Jungkook. And Namjoon felt weird about crashing that conversation (about crossing through the crowded living room) just so he wouldn’t have to stand in the middle of the kitchen looking like a loon.
He also didn’t totally want to talk to them, because while he and Yoongi had already caught up, Jungkook might ask Namjoon in that same gentle and devastating voice as Wonshik, ‘Are you okay?’ and Namjoon --
(Wasn’t.)
“We’re here!” Suddenly someone from the doorway was announcing in what practically was a yell.
After a moment of being startled out of his mind, Namjoon could recognize that booming deep voice coming from the foyer behind him as Taehyung -- which meant he and Jimin were, well, here. And for some reason, that immediately made him break out in a cold sweat on the back of his neck.
Probably because -- well, Taehyung and Jimin wouldn’t let him be lonely -- or at least alone -- and they also definitely wouldn’t let him run away from a conversation so easily. And Namjoon didn’t know if he wanted that or not.
He just knew that he didn’t want to be here, facing this dilemma, facing the consequences of dumb, bad mistakes and decisions he’d made once upon a time.
Thoughts a jumbled mess, his heart beating frantically, Namjoon turned tail and fled for the back door, quietly opening it and slipping out onto the backyard deck. He was trying hard to keep composure while still moving fast enough to escape before Seokjin -- or anyone, but most of all Seokjin -- saw him running away.
The backyard was quiet, but of course it had mood lighting and vaguely festive decorations put up out here as well, just in case anyone came out back. Between Seokjin and Jaehwan, the excited forethought put into the party planning wasn’t surprising. They were cute like that. They fit together incredibly well like that.
Taking a deep breath to try and calm down, Namjoon walked to the deck railing and leaned against it, looking out into the night. There were probably metaphors and symbolism he could come up with about that, his back to the light and the celebration as he faced into darkness. If he wasn’t avoiding music and was instead still writing, there’d be lyrics here for sure.
But as dramatic as Namjoon knew he was being, it wasn’t like he wanted to be a creep and watch the party from outside. That would make him feel worse, and it defeated the purpose of him coming outside anyway. So…
Namjoon sighed out slowly and tried to focus on being here, being present -- because he could feel that strange sort of cottony feeling around the edges of his brain and his body starting to set in. He could sense a little relief on the other side, at how the trade off of jittery insides and his heartbeat in his ears for a familiar nothingness was better and beckoning him. But it wasn’t really, right? Wasn’t really better. That was the whole point, that was a whole thing he was supposed to work on, because --
Well, Namjoon thought as he took stock of the grain of the wood railing beneath his fingertips, the hint of a late spring breeze against his face. Well.
He looked up at the stars and then -- that felt eerily familiar, so he went back to staring out into the lantern-lit yard and tried to remind himself of how things were better and he was better and this wasn’t him at his worst again. He wasn’t doing anything time sensitive like -- like cooking. So if he messed up and went -- vacant -- he wouldn’t do horrible things like burn ramyun and ruin friendships.
That...also wasn’t right, he reminded himself, his therapist’s voice echoing in his head. That was oversimplifying and not entirely right.
And anyway, he wasn’t supposed to be a defeatist. He wasn’t going to fail and escape the present and zone out, because he was going to go back inside in a moment and say hi to Jimin and Taehyung and be normal and mingle with other guests and not ruin Seokjin’s wedding and…
“Hey there,” came a voice. And maybe Namjoon was a little more far gone than he’d realized, lost in a negative spiral of thought. He hadn’t heard the patio door open behind him.
Namjoon peered over his shoulder, and found himself looking at…someone he didn’t know. It was hard to glean any details like this, the light from the house silhouetting the stranger. Namjoon thought he maybe could make out the gleam of teeth, a friendly but wide smile. The stranger was holding two drinks.
Whoever this was, they weren’t Seokjin or Yoongi or Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, or even Jaehwan or Wonshik. This stranger wasn’t any of the handful of Seokjin and Jaehwan’s friends that Namjoon kind of was acquainted with, either.
Namjoon didn’t know who this was, and so he regarded them suspiciously. “Hey.”
The stranger nodded at the reply and stepped closer. Namjoon was grateful that they kept enough space between the two of them that about two more people could fit there, as they set the cups down on the railing.
“Sorry,” the stranger said now. In the dim lighting that Namjoon had already adjusted to, he could make out more details. They had a nice profile, and a very friendly grin upon closer inspection.
“I know you don’t know me," the stranger explained. "I just saw you go outside and it’s been a bit, so I thought I’d come check on you.”
They nudged one of the cups, the one closest to Namjoon, a little closer. “That’s for you.”
Namjoon shook his head to decline. “I -- I’m not drinking.” ‘Not’, not ‘can’t’. “Sorry. Thanks, though.”
The stranger laughed a little, and Namjoon noticed how even in the near-dark there was a sparkle in their eyes. “Oh -- it’s just punch, promise. You still don’t have to drink it, though.”
Namjoon hesitated for a moment, then tentatively accepted the punch, though he didn’t drink any of it. “I’m fine,” Namjoon said. “You didn’t have to come check on me.”
The stranger nodded, but seemed unconvinced. “Yeah, and hope you’re not thinking ‘wow this guy is nosy and he sure needs to mind his own business’, but uh. You kind of looked like you bolted? So…yeah, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Namjoon’s face felt hot all of a sudden -- had he’d been that obvious? “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay.”
Not knowing what else to do, Namjoon lifted the cup and took a huge gulp of punch. The other man nodded and looked out into the backyard, as if giving Namjoon some semblance of privacy.
“Cool. If you want, I can leave you alone, but if not I’ve been told I’m a pretty good conversationalist.”
Namjoon laughed, the tiniest bit, at the self-praise. It’d seem rude, wouldn’t it, to drink this guy’s punch and then send him off. Maybe Namjoon shouldn’t have drank it. He wasn’t sure how good a conversationalist he personally was after all this time of locking his words away inside himself.
However, a horrible thought occurred to Namjoon, at that moment. “Jaehwan didn’t send you, did he?” He asked, without thinking about how that would sound out loud.
Seokjin would have just come out here himself, if he’d noticed Namjoon’s fleeing. But Jaehwan, always cordial and trying to keep the peace Jaehwan, would send someone after him. And seeing how Namjoon had already brushed off Wonshik, it’d make sense if he sent someone Namjoon didn’t know at all.
But as the stranger’s expression took a turn for bewildered, Namjoon felt ashamed and paranoid and self-absorbed because he could tell the answer was going to be no.
And sure enough: “No,” the man said, laughing, maybe to ease the potential awkwardness. “No no, I’m not even Jaehwan’s friend -- well, I mean. I’m on good terms with him, better terms with Wonshik actually, just. I’m here because Seokjin invited me, not Jaehwan.”
Namjoon was trying to shrink into himself. “Oh. Sorry.”
The stranger tapped a rhythm out on the side of his cup. “It’s not a big deal. Anyway, I’m Hoseok. You?”
Namjoon managed to swallow his embarrassment enough to answer. “Namjoon.”
Hoseok nodded. “So, friend of the groom or the groom?” He asked, all good natured, light and breezy. “I’d…guess Jaehwan, because you mentioned him, but better safe than sorry and ask, right?”
Namjoon took another sip, and shook his head. The punch was good, something berry flavored with a hint of citrus and lime. Seokjin might have made this refreshment, since it tasted fresh.
“I’m like you. I know Jaehwan, but I’m, uh. On Seokjin’s guest list, I guess.”
That was an understatement. Namjoon was in Seokjin’s wedding party actually. As the best man. Because leave it to Seokjin to basically give him the ultimatum of ‘Come to my wedding please, or else risk ruining the whole ceremony’ in a gentle, unsaid nudging. But that was a lot to unload onto a stranger, so he’d keep it to himself.
Hoseok nodded, eyes bright. “Oh I see! We can -- well, I’d like to say we could sit next each other during the ceremony but…”
Hoseok made a vague gesture that meant mostly nothing to Namjoon, and then he laughed. Namjoon wasn’t sure, because he didn’t know Hoseok that well yet, but it sounded like an embarrassed laugh. “Ahhh, anyway. It’s probably too forward to even joke about it. And I know it’s too forward to joke about reception seating or saving a dance for me.”
Namjoon blinked, not taken aback but definitely surprised. Here was this stranger who’d seen him run away from a social setting, and he was being chatty and silly. Hoseok was making jokes and being friendly with this sad person he didn’t know and had no obligation to cheer up.
But it was appreciated and helpful, because the way Hoseok was already completely at ease, languid in body posture and languid in how he stretched, hopped, flowed from one topic to the next, set Namjoon at ease, too. He didn’t feel cornered, scared, or out of his admittedly shallow depth. This was just a conversation. They were just talking.
“We can dance though, if you want to,” Hoseok was saying. “Forward or not, I’m a pretty good dancer, actually. It’ll be fun, and I promise none of this is a come on.”
Namjoon blinked, and his own non-reaction to a direct question that demanded he make a decision was surprising. This was still just a conversation. Hoseok seemed very sincere, so Namjoon believed in his earnest words.
“...I’ll. Think about it. About the dancing.” Namjoon said, even though he didn’t know if he’d be feeling up to going to the reception by the time Sunday rolled around. “In my own defense though, I can’t dance that well. My friends always tell me it’s awful.”
Hoseok laughed. “No no, I’m sure it’s not that bad -- and anyway, I can make anyone look good dancing, promise.”
Namjoon smiled a little more. “Really, now?”
Hoseok seemed ecstatic that Namjoon was playing along. “Mm, yeah! And really, it’s about having fun at a reception, anyway. I won’t let you be self-conscious. So it’s a date and a deal?”
Namjoon bit on the inside of his cheek, to stop himself from smiling too widely. “You sure this is all still not a come on?” That was sort of a joke. Sort of reassurance, too.
Hoseok laughed, sounding surprised and delighted as he picked up on Namjoon’s tone. “Oh, you’ve got jokes, huh? I promise it’s not, though.”
From there on out, the conversation slowed, but Namjoon didn’t want it to stall. He was worried, when there was a brief moment of silence, that he’d ruin everything and make Hoseok rescind his offer for a dance in a few days’ time.
So, grasping for conversational straws, he mumbled uncertainly and quickly, “The decorations are nice, aren’t they?”
(Dumb, he berated himself. Decorations? Boring.)
Forced by his own hand, Namjoon nodded at the patio lanterns that matched the color and style of the decorations inside, and hoped Hoseok didn’t turn around and walk away this very second.
Hoseok grinned enthusiastically, however, and turned his gaze back towards the backyard. “Yeah, very nice. Fits their super shoujo romance wedding theme.”
Namjoon choked on nothing, gripping tightly at his drink. “Super shoujo -- did Seokjin say it’s going to be, I don’t know, Sailor Moon themed or something?”
Seokjin…might do something like that, and Jaehwan would not only let him but probably be just as onboard with it. They always amped each other up, both in good and bad ways.
Hoseok shook his head, and took a sip of his own punch. “No, Fushigi Yuugi -- no uh, I’m joking. Just. Those two are very sweet and over the top and kind of textbook romance with each other, and very. I don’t know, into party planning and pretty aesthetics. I had to convince Seokjin not to have them go matching blond for the wedding, you know?”
No, this was yet another thing that Namjoon didn’t know, which kind of stung. He didn’t want to focus on that though, so he asked Hoseok, “Ah. So you like old shoujo anime, huh? You had that quip at-the-ready.”
It was half a joke and half just a really really safe conversation topic. Hoseok turned back to Namjoon, grinning easily. “Oh definitely! I’ve been holding on to that shoujo joke since Seokjin made me look at the beginnings of their shared pintrest wedding board. But unlike Seokjin and Jaehwan, old shoujo anime is actually very cool.”
Namjoon couldn’t be anything but amused as Hoseok launched into a long explanation of why and how he and his sister had grown up watching things together. Namjoon wound up getting swept up in Hoseok’s gentle excitement and began to easily jump in after a minute or two, talking about how he and his own sister had watched Sailor Moon religiously. And soon enough they were down a rabbit hole of an arguably ridiculous, though very fun, conversation.
Namjoon was in the middle of explaining, “Really, even at the time you could get a sense that Sailor Moon was ahead of its time and doing something -- ” when the back door creaked slowly open behind them.
Namjoon fell quiet as both he and Hoseok turned around to see who it was. It turned out to be Seokjin.
“Sorry,” Seokjin whispered, though why Seokjin felt like he needed to apologize or whisper, Namjoon didn’t know. “Just thought I’d check on you. Had to search a little though, Namjoon. Hoseok.”
Namjoon shrugged while Hoseok waved dismissively.
“No problem,” Hoseok said. “You want to borrow Namjoon, or me?”
Seokjin waved a hand back. “Oh no, I don’t want to intrude.”
But, Namjoon realized suddenly, surely Hoseok would want to talk to other people. And Namjoon had been hogging him. Plus, Seokjin would never say it, that he was checking up on Namjoon, but he also wouldn’t stop trying to do it. Might as well make it easy for both of them.
“It’s me that you need, right, Seokjin?” Namjoon prompted.
Seokjin waved again, moving to duck back inside. “No, I’ll leave you two to -- ”
Hoseok picked up on the cues that Namjoon was dropping and that Seokjin was accidentally revealing. “Hey, I should go visit some more. Get a refill on my drink.” He nodded to Namjoon, still as at ease as ever. “I’ll take a raincheck on the conversation, no biggie.”
Namjoon smiled, though it felt a little bit more like a grimace than it had throughout the rest of their conversation, and he nodded to Hoseok as he left with a wink and a grin.
“So,” Seokjin said, settling in right where Hoseok had been standing, looking up at the night sky. “Hoseok’s nice, huh?”
Namjoon nodded. “He likes Sailor Moon and Fushigi Yuugi,” Namjoon said, not sure what Seokjin was looking for here -- just that he was looking. “That’s cool.”
“Cardcaptor Sakura too,” Seokjin said approvingly. “Though honestly, who doesn’t? Who wouldn’t?”
~~~
By the time the party wound down, Namjoon had been coerced to rejoin the other guests inside and managed to pass it in relative peace.
He’d ended up in that familiar corner of the living room with the protective barrier-slash-company of Yoongi, along with the occasional Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin who entertained one another enough that Namjoon didn’t feel judged or pressured to contribute too much to the conversation.
Namjoon noticed, from the distance, that Hoseok was incredibly social, mingling among guests easily. Seokjin went back to happily, though dutifully, making his rounds as well. In the end Namjoon didn’t really get or seek out another chance to talk to either of them one on one.
As disappointing as that was, he also didn’t have to interact with Jaehwan, who was also in high demand among the more chatty guests. That was a highlight, at least until it was after the last person had gone home, and the three of them were left alone.
This was going to be the whole weekend, Namjoon realized all at once. Okay. That…could be fine. Would be fine.
“So all your things are in the guest room,” Seokjin informed Namjoon with a yawn, falling against Jaehwan, who pressed a kiss to Seokjin’s temple like it was second nature.
At this, Namjoon nodded, first in response to Seokjin and then in acknowledgement at Jaehwan. “Okay. And, uh, hey, Jaehwan.”
Jaehwan smiled, easy and kind but cautious. That was more than fair, all things considered. “Namjoon! It’s a little late, but good to see you.”
Namjoon shrugged. “Yeah? Promise not to be any trouble. You know, while I’m out and about.”
It was a low blow, but the way Jaehwan’s eyes flickered slightly and Seokjin’s mouth turned ever so slightly down at the edges in a frown was strangely gratifying.
It made Namjoon want to keep scratching at something that was healing over, because maybe it was healing over wrong. Or maybe Namjoon just liked to cause discomfort when it came to Seokjin and Jaehwan, because Namjoon was still hurting and unsure how to get over things. Or maybe he was just tired and not thinking straight, his brain to mouth filter off.
Whatever it was, Namjoon found himself saying next, “No near misses with accidental murder through negligence, promise.”
Jaehwan’s expression shuttered into uncertain, while Seokjin looked vaguely cross and said, voice a little deeper and more intense than usual, “That’s not funny, Namjoon.”
Namjoon smiled crookedly, because what else could he do? He was acting off, but he didn’t know how to face this head on. He never had. “It’s a little funny.”
Seokjin's mouth twisted, lips pressing tightly together, before he sighed and shook his head. Clearly he was not in agreement, but it was obvious that Seokjin also didn't want to fight or make a mountain out of a molehill. “Okay, well ask if you need anything. I put extra toiletries and things in the guest bathroom and we have plenty of food, but. Yeah.”
Jaehwan stood next to Seokjin, nodding but staying uncharacteristically silent.
When Namjoon nodded dutifully in response, Seokjin gestured around them. “We’ll be up cleaning for a bit, and then we’ll finish the rest tomorrow, talk about wedding stuff in the morning, all that. So do you want me to get you up or…?”
Namjoon wanted -- well. Still wanted to not be here, though maybe that emotion was more complicated than he’d originally thought.
The longer he stayed here, the more he was realizing that a part of him wanted to, yeah, be around Seokjin and the others -- there was a reason he’d agreed to come, besides a sense of duty -- but for everything to be normal. But that was impossible, and he knew it.
“I can help you guys clean,” he offered quietly. After his pettiness, which he was starting to regret, it was the least he could do.
Seokjin shook his head, pretty vigorously for someone who was stifling yawns. “You’re a guest! Go to bed, we’ve got this.”
Namjoon didn’t know how to push (funny, when pushing Seokjin and the others away had been what he’d done best -- first thing he’d done right in ages), so he gave up, shoulders slumping.
“Uh…well, don’t worry about getting me up. I’ll manage.”
As Namjoon headed upstairs to the guest room, he figured that an up side to being sent off to bed was he wouldn’t have to put up with Seokjin and Jaehwan flirting and stealing kisses and being cute while cleaning up.
They’d always been overly sweet on each other, tactile and touchy, and it was something Namjoon still was struggling to figure out how to deal with. Maybe that was horrible and selfish, but maybes had never stopped Namjoon from being accidentally and wholly destructive to everything good around him before.
He was unintentionally unpleasant in that way, and Namjoon? Honestly hated himself for it.
“You’re not going to ruin this wedding,” Namjoon whispered to himself firmly as he climbed the stairs, and tried to convince himself to halfway believe his own words.