Work Text:
Frigophobia – fear of cold or cold things
Yoongi adjusts his jacket, pulling it tightly around himself as the van door slides open and cold air engulfs him in a rush. His scarf is tucked loosely into the leather lapels of his jacket and he stuffs the rest in haphazardly as the cold air nips at his bare skin. He wishes he'd packed an extra because right now, he felt as if he was going to die of frostbite.
Their managers usher them out of the van and Yoongi scoops up his black overnight bag, jumping out of the van with a distinct clap of his boots on the asphalt. They file tiredly into the studio for the early morning recording and though the air is cold and stings his throat and nose, Yoongi takes a deep gulp before walking through the doors.
All seven members, as well as their managers, greet the staff and host with enthusiasm, albeit slightly rushed. Makeup is a quick affair, with only the bare minimum being applied as it’s only a radio broadcast and filming is from a distance, only showing one shot of the whole room.
They settle in relatively quickly, still feeling rushed, but are forced to put on a façade of calmness when the show’s staff request individual photos to post. The members carry through easily and the show starts with a stream of advertisements sounding through their headphones.
Yoongi listens as scarcely as he possibly can, preferring to hum in agreement when he hears the others do so in lieu of listening raptly himself. He’s forced out of his passive participation, however, when the host announces they are to draw straws for who will participate in the next segment, as they don’t have enough time to go through all seven members. The host explains that the two members with the shortest straws will sit out and participate in a different ‘challenge’. Yoongi tones up his façade into something more excited as he draws his straw. He isn’t sure of the length of any of the straws, so he waits patiently to compare his to those the others have drawn.
According to the yelling and loud exclamations (mostly by Hoseok), Yoongi discovers that he and Namjoon have drawn the two shortest straws. Glancing at the leader, Yoongi reaches across the table to give him a high five.
“I wouldn’t celebrate too soon, Yoongi-ssi,” the host announces in a sly voice, “your challenge will be to prepare bingsu for the other members while they participate in a much more hands-off challenge.”
The other members laugh and Yoongi joins in, noticing Namjoon only managing a weak smile. Yoongi rises from his chair to sit on the floor on the other side of the room where the staff have set up a little station where they are to complete their challenge.
He watches as Namjoon rises from his own chair somewhat reluctantly, settling next to Yoongi with more grace than the elder has ever seen him move with.
“Let’s get right to it then, shall we?” Yoongi suggests with a bright smile, knowing there was still a chance that fans would be focusing on them, even though they were most likely at the very edge of the camera’s view.
Namjoon nods meekly and Yoongi feels a tinge of annoyance slipping under his skin. Yoongi scratches his neck to relieve the feeling but finds it does nothing to stop him from opening his mouth.
“Can you at least try to look happy?” he snaps, irritation burning his throat as the words tumble out.
Namjoon startles out of the intense staring contest he’s having with the small cooler, which assumedly contains the ice and other chilled ingredients they’ll need to make the bingsu. He glances at Yoongi with what the elder distinguishes as tears glistening in his eyes; shimmering in the light as he turns his head back to stare at the cooler again – anywhere but at Yoongi. Yoongi feels his anger fizzle out to nothing and a sudden weight settle somewhere inside him.
“What’s wrong?” he questions gently, leaning in toward Namjoon so as to shield him from the cameras.
Just in case.
Yoongi feels his stomach drop further as Namjoon scrubs at face angrily with the sleeve of his shirt, sniffling quietly while he shakes his head. Yoongi thinks it’s a wasted effort, since he’s already seen the tears in Namjoon’s eyes. But when he sees Namjoon shoot a furtive glance up to where the camera is mounted in the corner of the room, he realises he’s not trying to hide from Yoongi, he’s trying to hide from the cameras – from the fans.
“I just…” Namjoon mumbles, eyes focused on the cooler again. “It’s too cold, I can’t do it, I can’t and I–”
“Woah, calm down,” Yoongi cuts him off, placing a firm hand on the leader’s thigh.
He watches the way the younger takes a shuddering breath in, continuing to shiver though the ambient temperature is nothing to be shivering about. Yoongi isn’t completely sure why the leader seems to be so cold, and so damn worked up about it, but as Namjoon’s hyung, he takes the initiative to remedy the situation as quickly as possible.
Unfurling the scarf from around his neck, he rewinds it around Namjoon’s neck where the muscles jump and twitch under his fingers. Bundled up the heap of fabric, Namjoon calms slightly, but his eyes still look frantic. Yoongi’s heart aches funnily in his chest as he takes in his usually fearless leader’s suddenly small appearance.
“Look, I’ll handle this, you just try and look like you’re helping, okay?” Yoongi offers quietly.
He didn’t intend to sound patronising, but the way Namjoon’s face scrunches up tells him that he did. Yoongi tries to think of another way to explain himself, but Namjoon’s disgruntled expression soon smooths out into one of relief and he nods in acceptance of Yoongi’s proposal.
Yoongi works diligently with Namjoon (or rather, Yoongi works on shaving the ice and scooping it into the glass bowl and organising the fruit atop of it, while Namjoon flutters his hands over the top to support the illusion that it’s a team effort, though they weren’t confident anyone was really watching anyway) until the host calls them back to showcase their work. The other members all express their surprise at the restaurant-worthy bingsu and Namjoon blushes at their antics, knowing full well he didn’t contribute anything to its making. Yoongi grounds him with a palm on his back which he lets rest there until they leave the station later in the morning.
On the ride back home, Namjoon splits off from Yoongi silently, brushing the elder’s hand off to sit in the back of the van. Yoongi watches him go worriedly but ultimately shrugs. If Namjoon didn’t want help, Yoongi wasn’t going to force it upon him. Yoongi sits closest to the front without being in the front seat or driving; as the former was reserved for Seokjin on most days. He watches as the eldest member scrolls down his Twitter feed, pausing occasionally to read something a fan may have tweeted them. Yoongi watches out of boredom, his own phone back at the dorms, as Seokjin pauses on a tweet and appears to read over it more than once, if the amount of time he stays on it is anything to go by. He scrolls down just slightly and Yoongi sees there is a photo attached. However, Seokjin lowers his phone as he opens it, so Yoongi sits puzzled, wondering what it could be.
His curiosity is answered in the form of a quiet hiss of Yoongi-ah! from the front seat, and a large hand passing a phone back to him. Seokjin slips his phone into Yoongi’s hand smoothly, gesturing for him to look at it.
It’s opened on the tweet.
It is from a fan, as Yoongi suspected, and it talks about Namjoon and how he… how he had seemed off at the radio broadcast. The fan lists just a few tell-tale signs they’d seen to alert them of Namjoon’s apparent upset mood, and the photo attached makes Yoongi’s chest constrict. It shows a vulnerable looking Namjoon with his sleeve held up to his eyes, Yoongi’s hand solid on his thigh. So he hadn’t done that great of a job at shielding him from the cameras after all.
His eyes meet with Seokjin’s worried ones over the headrest of the passenger seat and the unspoken message between them rings loud in Yoongi’s mind. They’d talk about this later.
***
Later doesn’t come immediately after dance practice ends like Yoongi thought it would, because Namjoon avoids him all the way back to the dorms and once they arrive, the leader retreats to his room with a loud bang of the door. Jeongguk halts in his footsteps in the hallway before shrugging and going with Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok to their room instead. With only Seokjin left in the foyer with Yoongi, the elder has barely opened his mouth before Yoongi is mumbling yeah yeah and trudging through the hallway to Namjoon’s room.
He knocks lightly despite his antsy mood, because he can’t stop remembering just how vulnerable Namjoon had looked that morning and in that photograph; tears in his eyes replaced with pure relief when Yoongi said he’d handle the challenge by himself. He wasn’t prepared to see Namjoon even more vulnerable than that, but when he opened the door after being granted permission by a soft yeah, Yoongi feels his heart starting to melt and seep through his ribs.
There Namjoon lay, bundled up in all of the blankets on his bed. Though it was a cold day, they’d known that it would be and they’d had the foresight to leave the heat on all morning while they were out, so it’d be especially warm for them once they arrived home. Apparently Namjoon didn’t share the delight, as he still hid beneath his covers as if it would be like Antarctica without them. Upon stepping closer though, Yoongi notices a bead of sweat running down Namjoon’s temple. Maybe he wasn’t so cold after all, though his current position said anything but. Interesting.
He doesn’t bring it up.
Instead he asks Namjoon what the hell happened back there, in more or less words.
Licking his lips (a nervous habit of his Yoongi had picked up on years ago), Namjoon takes in another one of those deep shuddering breaths before admitting in a mumble: “I’m afraid of the cold.”
Yoongi cocks his head in question, eyebrows furrowing as he attempts to understand Namjoon’s words. He’s afraid of the cold? Like, weather? Or ice? According to earlier today, it would seem the latter but considering the position he was in at the moment, perhaps both. Namjoon went on to explain without being prompted.
“Like– cold weather, cold things.”
Yoongi nods understandingly, though he’s a far cry from fully comprehending the situation. He gestures for the leader to continue.
“I – it’s been this way since I was little. I can’t remember it ever being any different but I just don’t know why…” he trails off, sounding much smaller than his usual strong bravado.
Yoongi observes him carefully and the way he tucks his chin beneath his blankets as if hiding from any mean remarks Yoongi might retort with. Sure, he doesn’t quite understand everything he was being told, but he wasn’t going to be an asshole about it. Instead, he asks Namjoon questions.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks, voice low and worn out after a long morning of talking at the radio broadcast.
Namjoon lowers the blanket from his face just a touch and Yoongi can see he’s biting on his lip. He nods his head minutely.
“My eomma she…” he trails off again, looking embarrassed, “she used to make me chicken soup.”
Namjoon’s cheeks flush red at the confession, though Yoongi can’t be sure it’s not from him overheating under all of those covers. Nevertheless, Yoongi nods seriously and leaves the room without another word, plan already forming in his head.
“Seokjin-hyung?” he calls as he makes his way into the kitchen.
“Yeah?”
Yoongi pulls up a chair and his phone, which was left charging on the counter. He begins to type busily as Seokjin turns to face him.
“Can we have chicken soup for dinner?” he asks in his signature monotone voice.
Seokjin just shrugs and mumbles an affirmative and a few other words like hadn’t decided yet anyway but Yoongi is already immersed in the pages upon pages of text he’s stumbled across.
The simple search ‘fear of cold’ results in hundreds of articles and pages of information and Yoongi spends what feels like hours engrossed in reading up on reasons behind having the fear as well as ways to lessen the impact. His eye catches on one particular home remedy, saving it to his phone and reading onward with less interest; the one idea already stuck at the forefront of his mind.
He locks his phone with an air of finality, sucking in a breath.
“Hyung, do we have red tea and ginger juice by any chance?” he lets out in a rush of air, definitely not blushing as the elder turns his back to the stove and levels him with a curious stare.
“I can’t say we have ginger juice, but we should have tea.” Seokjin responds easily, head tilting slightly. Yoongi thinks maybe he’ll leave it alone and he’ll be able to duck out to the shops without being questioned further. “Why?”
Yoongi sighs as Seokjin asks the innocent enough question, running a hand through his straw-like hair. He hopes they’ll stop bleaching it soon because it was starting to take a toll on him.
“It’s for Namjoon,” is all Yoongi responds with and Seokjin nods in understanding, telling him he’ll have to run to the store for the ginger juice after checking they did indeed have red tea.
“Take Jimin with you,” Seokjin calls over his shoulder as he stirs the soup in the pot. Yoongi’s already pulling his boots on by the door. “He has too much energy already, the walk will tire him out a bit.”
Yoongi nods (only slightly confused by the request) and goes to retrieve the younger from his room.
He opens the door without knocking because he can hear the sounds of the TV streaming some kind of game. Taehyung, Hoseok and Jeongguk are immersed in a Mario Kart battle, spread out on the floor and Jimin lays on his bed, tossing a ball up at the ceiling and catching it. Huh, Seokjin was right. Poor kid, he was probably bored out of his mind wanting to practice more; do anything except take the rest they’d been ordered to have.
Yoongi catches his eye before the others can notice his presence and beckons Jimin to follow him. Yoongi leads the younger out into the hall, Jimin tossing the ball back to his bed before he closes the door quietly behind him.
“What’s up, hyung?” he questions cheerily and Yoongi admires him, he really does, being happy as ever even though he’s clearly agitated.
“Wanna come to the store? Seokjin said you might like to tag along.” Yoongi asks Jimin rather than orders him, but he assumes it’s a yes when Jimin’s eyes light up and he rushes to the front door to pull his sneakers on.
Yoongi shakes his head with a chuckle, trailing after him to the door. He sees Jimin freeze in his movements just slightly, smile turning from a grin to a bashful quirk of his lips. His eyes are staring somewhere beyond Yoongi and a faint pink begins spreading over the apples of his cheeks. Yoongi quirks a brow, turning around to find himself vis-à-vis with a fond-eyed Seokjin. Yoongi wonders if there’s more to the look the two boys are sharing than what meets the eye.
The elder breaks his gaze with Jimin, turning to Yoongi with a serious gaze.
“Will Namjoon be okay?” he questions softly, concern blanketing his every word.
Yoongi sighs, patting Seokjin on the shoulder lightly (not in a patronizing way, but in a way one might comfort a sibling when something is the matter but it’s out of their control).
“He will be.”
They’re only halfway to the convenience store, a few blocks from their dorms, when Yoongi’s left eye starts twitching in irritation. He isn’t doing it on purpose and wishes he could help it because frankly, it’s difficult to navigate the busy sidewalks with a bung eye, but he knows his irritation is beyond his control at this point. Hell, it’s his fault for getting worked up so easily.
Jimin, the ever sweet and happy Jimin he’d had nothing but fond thoughts for earlier, has been sending sly glances his way since exiting their dorm and Yoongi can see him opening and closing his mouth, as if wanting to ask a question but unsure of how to say it.
“Just spit it out,” Yoongi spits himself, before levelling Jimin with a gaze that speaks as much of an apology as he’s ever going to get.
Jimin looks taken aback for all of two seconds with his mouth hanging open dumbly before he bursts out with what he’s seemingly been holding onto since they stepped out the front door.
“What’s wrong with Namjoonie hyung?”
Yoongi sighs. He’s not sure whether it’s in relief or irritation, but he’d assumed Jimin would be curious. He thinks they all knew something was the matter the moment Namjoon had stormed off when they got to the dorm. It just wasn’t in his nature to act out like that so suddenly, being the easy going but hardworking leader-slash-philosophical sage he normally is.
“It’s not really my place to tell you,” Yoongi replies hesitantly, cogs still turning in his head on how best to deal with the situation, “but I guess if I don’t the rest of you will never know what’s going on.”
Jimin nods, eyes wide and waiting for Yoongi to continue.
“The ice at the broadcast earlier kind of freaked him out, it’s – the cold kind of freaked him out.”
Yoongi sighs again, wondering if that even explained it. A sidelong glance at Jimin has him seeing the boy gnawing at his lower lip and nodding intently. His eyes are focused on the ground, darting back and forth rapidly as if trying to process the information he’s been given; trying to form links between it and Namjoon’s odd behaviour earlier. The kid always has been smarter than he looks, always trying his best to understand the most complex of issues.
“So… how can we help?” Jimin queries curiously, brown eyes wide yet again.
Yoongi huffs a disbelieving laugh. Trust Jimin to be the one who skips all logical questioning to go straight to the helping part. Yoongi figures there’s no point in hiding anything from him if Jimin is so willing to help.
"Well we're going to the store to pick up some ginger juice."
Jimin cocks his head in surprise, lip curling in mild disgust. Obviously he wasn’t too fond of the idea either.
"What for?"
Yoongi tries to remember exactly what he'd read so he can explain it properly.
"I looked it up and it said the yin and yang relationship plays a part in the whole fear thing. Like if the cold part or yin is involved too much, you have to remedy it with the hot."
He sneaks another sidelong glance at Jimin to see if the kid thinks he’s spouting complete and utter bullshit. Instead, he sees Jimin nodding along attentively again.
"One of the hot remedies it suggested was tea – red tea, with ginger juice and sugar."
Jimin snorts unattractively at the use of Yoongi’s stage name out of context, to which Yoongi elbows him in the side. Jimin skips around him to race ahead on the path, high-tailing it to the store, brightly coloured sign visible from across the street.
"But why ginger juice?” Jimin asks once Yoongi catches up to him at the storefront.
Yoongi shrugs, information flashing before his eyes as he remembers what he'd read.
"Something to do with the traditional Chinese healing methods."
Jimin smirks a small smirk, quirking a curious eyebrow in Yoongi’s direction.
"You know much about that stuff, hyung?"
Yoongi sends Jimin a fiery glare, shoulders rising defensively.
"Shut up."
The trip to the store is short-lived, and the ginger juice is apparently not as odd a purchase as they thought, with the old cashier smiling his toothless smile at them and telling them of how he used to drink the liquid as a treat when he was a young boy. Jimin doesn't ask any more questions on the way home, but walks silently beside Yoongi, chewing on his lip the way he does when he's thinking hard about something.
It’s only when they reach their building that Jimin voices his thoughts.
“Hyung?” he speaks up quietly, as if the cogs in his head are turning a mile a minute.
Yoongi grunts in response.
“What else can I do to help?”
Yoongi pauses with his hand on the button for the elevator.
He didn’t imagine Jimin would actually want to actively help him to help Namjoon. Sure, he knows the younger is concerned (they all are) but offering to go out of his way to help his fellow bandmate – well, it made a pleasant weight settle in Yoongi’s chest.
He tries to think of what else can be done to keep Namjoon comfortable besides the remedies and blankets.
“If you could keep the others in line that would be great.”
Yoongi sighs as they step into the elevator. He feels a sense of guilt for suggesting his bandmates need to be kept in line, as if they’re a pack of insensitive wild animals or something. He knows full well that they’re all compassionate and understanding (hell, he should know, he’s been living with them for the past three years) but when it comes down to it, they can be a little inconsiderate and immature at times – especially the younger ones.
Jimin nods and gestures for him to go on. Yoongi wracks his brain for anything else, wanting to give Jimin the purpose he seems to want so desperately.
“Maybe let them know what’s going on, it’s just I won’t have time because…” he lifts the bag from the convenience store as if in explanation, “yeah.”
Jimin smirks again, this time turning his face toward the ground, before flashing Yoongi a real smile.
“Can do, hyung.”
As Yoongi fiddles with the lock of their dorm door, Jimin's head snaps up and he sniffs in interest.
"It smells so good in there," he groans, "what's hyung cooking?"
"Chicken soup," Yoongi says before tacking on hastily, "for Namjoon."
Jimin smiles a private smile before pushing into the dorm, making a beeline for the kitchen. Yoongi stops him with a hand around the wrist.
"Can you take this in to Seokjin-hyung? I'm just going to – um, check on him."
Jimin's shit eating grin seems permanent at this point. Nonetheless, he takes the flimsy grocery bag from Yoongi and skips into the kitchen.
Yoongi watches after him and doesn't attempt to hold back the huff of laughter that escapes him when he hears Jimin greet Seokjin chirpily. He shakes his head in disbelief at Jimin’s happy-go-lucky attitude as he enters he hallway, leaving the two alone to talk while he attends to Namjoon.
As Yoongi approaches Namjoon's closed bedroom door though, he slows as his mind races with a million thoughts of what the right thing to say could be. He lifts his hand and raps lightly on the door, mind going blank when an equally as tentative voice answers, somehow weaker than it was the last time they spoke.
Yoongi takes a deep breath as he steps into the room, door clicking shut ominously behind him. As he sees Namjoon's face, bundled under the covers just like earlier, he realises it doesn't matter what he says. He just has to be there for Namjoon. He just has to be a friend.
"We're back, hyung!" Jimin chirps, skidding into the kitchen in his mismatched socks.
Seokjin lets the soup on the stove simmer and turns to face Jimin.
"I can see that," he replies with a fond smile, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Jimin carefully take the bottle from the plastic shopping bag slung over his forearm. "Did you get what you needed?"
Jimin sets the juice on the counter before flattening the bag and tying it into a loose knot. He tosses it to Seokjin, who stuffs it in the cupboard under the sink. For some reason they kept a disposable plastic bag full of disposable plastic bags. He has yet to find out why; it’s just something they did.
"I think so." Jimin says, examining the ginger juice with mild disgust. "Yoongi hyung said this was important in making some kind of drink for Namjoon hyung."
Seokjin steps closer, picking up the bottle and bringing it just a few inches away from his eyes to read. He really was blind without his glasses.
"Looks like what he wanted." Seokjin sets the bottle back on the counter. "He said it's some mixture of this, red tea and sugar – I don't know."
Jimin nods along enthusiastically and Seokjin just knows he’s itching to speak by the way his lips keep parting and closing.
"Yeah! He was telling me on the way to the store, it's like – something to do with yin and yang and the balance of hot and cold?" Jimin splutters in his excitement, eyes looking toward the ceiling as if it had the information scrawled across it.
"Ah," Seokjin says simply, too amused by the boy to think of anything further to say.
"Yeah, I don't really know either. All I know is that he did some serious research on it. He was spouting facts at me like he was some kind of expert."
Jimin leans against the counter, tugging on his lip with his teeth in a way that suggests he's thinking hard about something. His eyes stare unseeingly ahead. Seokjin watches him, keeping silent so as not to disturb his thinking.
"Why..." Jimin starts before trailing off uncertainly, shaking his head and dropping his gaze to the ground.
Seokjin steps closer, crouching low enough to catch Jimin's eyes until he lifts his gaze again. When this doesn't work (the younger continues gnawing on his lower lip, flesh turning cherry red with the constant irritation), Seokjin slips his hand behind Jimin's neck, carding his fingers though the short black hairs there.
"Why what, Jimin-ah?" he queries gently.
Jimin glances up at him through his wispy black bangs.
The younger releases his lip with a wet sound and Seokjin feels slightly ashamed of the way he glances down to track the movement with his eyes.
"Why do you think Yoongi hyung cares so much?" Jimin tilts his head in the picture of childlike curiosity.
Seokjin gapes for a moment, hand stilling in Jimin's hair. The younger takes this a sign he hasn't made himself understood and rushes to clarify.
"I – I care about all of the members too, of course, but Yoongi just seems to be going above and beyond which isn't normally his style." Jimin takes a shaky breath in. "It's as if he likes hyung or something and–"
Jimin stops abruptly as he realises what he's said. His eyes widen in shock, flitting nervously around the room before landing on the linoleum beneath his socked feet once again.
Seokjin takes a moment to process Jimin's words. Jimin thinks that Yoongi likes Namjoon? He’s guessing that Jimin means they like each other beyond a bandmate relationship. But hopefully they all felt that way, right? They were supposed to be brothers; sticking together no matter what. Seokjin hopes they all have that strong bond and like each other like Yoongi supposedly likes Namjoon. Seokjin’s thoughts come to a grinding halt. Unless Jimin means Yoongi likes Namjoon in the same way I like… oh. Seokjin shakes his head and resolves to sort out his confusion by actually talking to Jimin, not just coming up with elaborate theories and explanations in his own mind. A small part of him is terrified of hearing Jimin’s answer.
"Do you mean… you think Yoongi likes Namjoon romantically, Jiminie?" Seokjin asks softly, resuming his stroking of the youngers hair although his fingers feel stiff and move clumsily.
It seems to relax Jimin a little though, as he shrugs and mumbles a quiet: "Yeah, I guess so."
Seokjin nods, though he knows Jimin can't see it, before continuing on with his probing. His heart is beating wildly in his chest and he prays that his breathing doesn’t sound as laboured as it feels.
“Would it be a bad thing if he did?”
“No!” Jimin exclaims loudly, “of–of course not.”
Jimin punctuates his statement with a few jerky shakes of his head.
Seokjin nods before asking the question he’s most curious about.
"Well what makes you think Yoongi likes Namjoon, Jiminie?"
Jimin sniffles at this and raises his head to meet Seokjin's eyes. The elder is stunned to see tears on the brink of spilling down Jimin's cheeks, quiet sniffles not making much of a sound over the simmering of the soup on the stove and patter of the shower running in the bathroom.
"Jiminie?" Seokjin says hesitantly, reaching out to brush away the stray tears which have escaped and are making tracks upon the skin of his cheek.
Jimin takes a shuddering breath in.
"Because he treats him the way you treat me, hyung."
"Yoongi," Namjoon mutters weakly, the word muffled from beneath the layers of fabric.
Yoongi takes in the form beneath the covers and feels the same surge of empathy he felt last time he entered the room. He can't find it within himself to be mad about the lack of honorific. God, how soft have you become? The voice in Yoongi’s head scoffs at him drily. He squashes it down with a miniscule shake of his head.
He makes his way over to Namjoon's bed and mentally debates whether to stand over him or sit on his bedside. He settles on crouching before him, only mildly flustered over the way his mind is overcomplicating every decision he makes.
"How're you feeling, Joon-ah?" he questions softly, fingers twitching with the urge to touch him, stroke his hair – just comfort him in some way, any way.
But he isn’t Seokjin. He isn’t the overt mother figure of the group who can give loving touches and soft words of encouragement without it seeming out of character and forced. When he does express such emotions – and when he has expressed them in the past – the younger members play it off as a joke, or as him feeling so uncomfortable that he forces himself to say something which he wouldn’t under normal circumstances. No matter how hard he tried, his attempts were always brushed off.
It’s not at all what the other members thought. He would never force himself to comfort others when they were upset. Sure, Seokjin helped all of them more often than not, but it was normally just a matter of being in the right place at the right time. If it was Yoongi who was first on the scene, he would try his best to comfort whoever was in need as soon as he could. His familiarity with recognising and responding to others emotions, as well as expressing his own, had grown immensely since being in a group with the other six members, and even before debut. He still wasn’t up to Seokjin’s standard of providing natural comforts which others accepted without question but for Namjoon, he wanted to try his best.
Slowly, with trembling fingers, he reaches up to rest his hand over the comforters which blanket Namjoon’s head.
Yoongi can feel his own heart thudding violently against his rib cage and prays to all the Gods that exist above that Namjoon can’t hear it for the layers of fabric over his ears. The boy doesn’t seem to notice anything, nor mind the hand Yoongi has rested somewhat awkwardly on him.
“I’m fine, Yoongi hyung,” Namjoon says with surprising clarity. “Just a little shaken up is all.”
Yoongi lets out a mental sigh of relief, hand patting Namjoon’s head in an unconscious gesture of comfort. The younger lets out a small sound and his eyes slip closed and Yoongi might be hallucinating – because after that noise Namjoon made he’s not sure what is real – but he could swear he felt Namjoon push his head into his hand.
Yoongi watches his leader with undisguised wonder, curled up under a mountain of blankets, eyes closed as if asleep and making noises much too similar to those a cat would make when it’s being scratched in that special spot behind the ears. He continues to comfort him with alternating pats and strokes to his head through the thick layer of blankets before a quiet knock at the door startles them apart.
Namjoon answers with another quiet yeah as Yoongi struggles to maintain his crouch while twisting his neck to see a head pop through the crack in the door.
Seokjin smiles a small smile as he takes in the scene before him and Yoongi’s glad he’s facing away from Namjoon because he can feel the colour creeping up his neck.
“Hey guys, dinner is ready if you wanted to come out and eat.” He steps into the room a little more before continuing with a shrug. “Or I could bring you your food to eat in here? Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”
And that is what Yoongi envies. Seokjin’s ability to offer comfort in ways Yoongi could never even dream of thinking up. His ability to accommodate for other’s needs with effortless grace. The ease he displays in expressing his thoughts so articulately that it’s a rare occurrence that he offends anyone or steps out of line. Yoongi only wishes he could help the others in such a way, but settles for his consistent effort in trying his best.
“Thank you, hyung, but it’s fine.” Namjoon says with a smile, shifting up the bed just slightly, covers slipping down. “We’ll be out in a second.”
Seokjin nods with a smile and closes the door quietly behind him.
Namjoon keeps his eyes on the door until Seokjin’s padding footsteps faded out down the hallway. Slowly, he sits up fully. With his feet, he kicks at most of the covers, crumpling them into a ball at the end of the bed. However, he holds tightly onto the plushest comforter (the one Yoongi knew he’d brought into the dorm as a trainee; stuffed with the feathers of some kind of bird). Yoongi himself had slept under its warmth once or twice and he regards it fondly.
Yoongi watches him curiously as Namjoon curls his fingers tightly into the edge of the down comforter, look of pure concentration on his face before he ducks beneath it. Yoongi’s eyes widen in confusion for the briefest second, wondering if the boy had finally broken down and had decided to just hide away instead of facing his fear.
Yoongi opens his mouth to ask if Namjoon is okay when the boy’s head pops out at the side of the bed. He purses his lips in an attempt to quell his laughter as the boy rearranges himself, legs dropping off the side of the bed and onto the floor, comforter wrapping tightly around his shoulders and torso. He stands shakily, a side effect of lying down for so long, and pulls the blanket tighter still around his frame, letting the extra length trail behind him like a cape. Yoongi can feel his amusement morph into something akin to adoration as Namjoon shuffles toward the door, careful not to take a wrong step and trip himself up.
“Uh, hyung?”
Yoongi jerks out of his stare to see Namjoon standing at the door, looking back at him with a sheepish look on his face.
“Yeah?”
Namjoon glances from Yoongi then to the door, tugging his lower lip into his mouth.
“Can you... open the door?” Namjoon casts his eyes to the floor in something Yoongi thinks is embarrassment.
Yoongi just smiles, taking in the appearance of his leader: tall frame huddled under the comforter, lanky limbs hidden by the excess of fabric.
“Yeah, Namjoon.”
Yoongi plants his hands on his knees (which honestly feel cemented at the joints at this point) and struggles to his feet. His legs click uncomfortably as he walks to the door, opening it for Namjoon so the younger can exit first.
Yoongi watches him waddle to the kitchen, fond small creeping onto his lips before he closes the door behind him and follows along.
“Hyung, what the hell?”
Yoongi freezes in his footsteps when he hears the voice of the youngest member ring out throughout the dorm. He’s jolted back into action when he hears Namjoon’s quiet mumbles, attempting to explain himself.
“Jeongguk–” Yoongi starts.
“Gukkie, shut up and c’mere.”
Jimin pulls Jeongguk roughly to the side, into the living room and away from a red-faced Namjoon. Yoongi shoots the boy a thankful look and Jimin just smiles like he does so often before tugging on Jeongguk’s shoulder to get him moving. Yoongi can already hear Jimin begin to explain the bare essentials of Namjoon’s situation in a hushed tone.
Yoongi steps up to Namjoon’s side, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, hoping it’s calming.
The younger jumps at the touch, but relaxes when he looks to the side and sees it’s Yoongi. Yoongi gestures to the floor around the table and Namjoon nods, sinking to the ground as gracefully as one can when surrounded by a puffy comforter. Just as Yoongi is settling beside him, surreptitiously shifting the blanket from under him, Hoseok pads in.
Yoongi feels fear rise in his throat as Hoseok takes one look at Namjoon, opens his mouth to–
“Hoseok-ah, can you help me carry the big pot to the table?”
Seokjin’s call from the stove effectively drowns out whatever Hoseok had begun to say, and stops him from continuing with the thought. Yoongi sighs a small sigh of relief as Hoseok steps over to where Seokjin needs his assistance. Yoongi can’t be 100% sure, but he’s fairly certain Seokjin uses the big pot every night, carrying it to the table himself with ease. Yoongi chuckles drily: he owes Seokjin one.
They all settle around the table eventually, expressing their hunger and thanks for the meal with varying volumes and sincerity. Namjoon’s is perhaps the sincerest, but also one of the quietest. Seokjin hears nonetheless, focused him on him like the hawk he is, and pats his thigh in a comforting gesture Yoongi silently wishes he could pull off without being awkward.
The kids keep trading glances, though – Jeongguk and Taehyung especially – but as Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, eyes locked on Namjoon’s hunched over form, Jeongguk shoves a piece of chicken between his teeth. Taehyung splutters a bit, eyeing Jeongguk in mild offense that he’d do such a thing but Jeongguk gives him a look that the elder seems to understand. His eyes widen, lips falling open (though he continues chewing, gross) and he nods minutely before continuing on with his meal. The whole exchange goes unnoticed by Namjoon but Yoongi smiles into his bowl at the teamwork of his band members, heart swelling with pride.
Besides some mild chatter (none of which Namjoon actively contributes to), dinner is rather uneventful. The younger kids scrape their plates clean and slurp every last drop of soup from their bowls. Namjoon eats his soup with quiet sips, and Yoongi even sees a content smile on his face once as he takes a large spoonful, closing his eyes and letting out a little hum.
When they’d all but devoured everything, they began stacking their dishes up. Namjoon helps a little, letting the blanket slip down his shoulders to reach out and push some of the smaller side dishes toward the centre of the table where they could be collected.
Seokjin steps in just as the Jeongguk is sneaking out the door, recruiting every member sans Namjoon to help clean up, so they ‘can all get to bed sooner’. His request is met with a series of groans and huffs, but they all comply nonetheless. Somewhat unwillingly, Jeongguk carts dishes to the sink, piling them up on the side counter. Seokjin prepares the water, heavy on the detergent, while Jimin grabs a tea towel in preparation for drying duty. Yoongi doesn’t miss the close proximity between the two, and the way they seem to giggle more than usual when they speak. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jimin’s cheeks so pink for such an extended period of time.
Taehyung is left to pack the dry dishes away, while Hoseok wipes down the table and Yoongi sweeps the floors. He sweeps around the table carefully, tiny straw broom hard on his back with all the bending. He stops when he’s met with soft white material rather than hard wooden floor.
Namjoon sits at the table in the same spot he sat down in at the start of dinner. Yoongi watches as he eyes the others bustling around the kitchen, somewhat guilty expression on his face.
“Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi whispers, catching the mam’s attention, “why don’t you go and lay down? I’ll just finish up here and I’ll be in in a minute?”
Yoongi meant to sound confident. He meant to sound reassuring, caring. He meant to sound a lot of things but he’s afraid he ended up sounding a bit like a clucky mother hen, scolding their young indirectly. He’s descending into another mental pity party when Namjoon nods, getting to his feet and returning to his room.
The door clicks gently behind him and Yoongi stares blankly. Maybe he was doing better at this than he thought.
He continues sweeping the floors, quicker now and probably missing patches but he wants to hurry so he can make Namjoon’s drink and take it to him before he falls asleep–
“Guys, come here,” Seokjin whispers, hands gesturing in a ‘come hither’ motion.
The members glance at each other in confusion, huddling around the eldest anyway. Yoongi raises his eyebrow at him as he waits for him to speak.
“As you guys probably already know, Namjoon had a little... episode today.” Seokjin grimaces as he says the words, but he’s honestly unsure of how else to explain. “I still don’t really know the nature of it all, but from what Jimin’s said to me,” the younger casts a glance at his hyung, pink cheeks darkening further still, “it’s got something to do with fearing the cold.”
Jimin nods along, colour in his cheeks fading just slightly.
“Yeah, that’s what Yoongi hyung told me. He said Joonie hyung told him.”
All eyes shifted to Yoongi. He gulps, taking a deep breath.
“The... the bingsu making at the broadcast – it freaked him out. Like, he tensed up and everything.” Yoongi tries to recount what he could without overstepping the boundary of confidentiality, also trying to keep his voice low in case Namjoon was listening. “He told me he’s been afraid of cold weather and cold things since he was little.”
All five of the other member’s nod intently, Jeongguk chewing on his lower lip a bit.
“He told me his mother used to make him chicken soup,” Yoongi admits quietly, feeling colour rise to his own cheeks as Seokjin coos a little.
The attention is taken off of him when Jeongguk speaks up.
“I feel so bad for laughing at him,” the maknae frowns, the deep lines etched into his young face looking so out of place. “I need to go and apologise.”
Jeongguk starts to step away, but Yoongi catches him by the wrist gently.
“Don’t,” he murmurs.
Jeongguk looks at him, confused.
“I mean, just give him some space.” Jeongguk goes lax in his grip, nodding.
“Tomorrow,” he says resolutely.
“Tomorrow sounds good,” Seokjin agrees, “we’ll leave him alone for the night to relax. Gukkie, sleep with the kids tonight?”
The youngest, who would usually take this opportunity to complain, just nods and smiles at Taehyung who beams back at him – the prospect of sharing with someone other than his roommates always exciting to him
“Thank you, Gukkie,” Seokjin ruffles his hair and Jeongguk pretends not to enjoy the affection. “I’ll just go let him know.”
Yoongi hates to be blunt so many times in one day, but once again, he stops the exit with a grip on Seokjin’s wrist.
“Wait – hyung.”
Seokjin turns back, smile playing at the corner of his lips. What’s up with him, Yoongi wonders idly.
“What is it, Yoongi?” he asks, tone playful and Yoongi doesn’t understand.
“I – uh,” Yoongi is very aware of the five pairs of eyes on him and tries not to let his cheeks burn as he continues, “have to make Namjoon his drink still, so I’ll tell him when I go in. If that’s okay.”
Seokjin’s lips pull into a smile and Yoongi thinks he understands as Seokjin cheekily says: “Sure thing. Whatever you say, boss.”
Jimin chuckles from Seokjin’s side and the elder eyes him fondly. Yoongi doesn’t miss the action.
He hears Hoseok whispering quietly, apparently trying to console Taehyung who looks rather worried. The elder speaks for him.
“Taetae wants to know,” the younger looks at his hyung with a cute pout at having ratted him out, “how can the rest of us help Namjoon?”
“Not now but like – in the future, if and when this happens again,” Taehyung rushes to clarify.
Yoongi stares just a little, heart doing that uncomfortable thing where it feels like it’s going to burst. He’s tempted to clutch at his chest just to ease the pain, but it softens into a pleasant weight when he looks up into the waiting faces of his members.
Each and every one of them, even Seokjin who is the master carer and mother of their group, is looking at Yoongi with such hope and dedication – so eager to learn of anything they can possibly do to help their leader. Yoongi feels his pride in his group expand tenfold, and his pride in himself inches a notch higher.
“Well, I mean I’m not an expert or anything–” Jimin casts him a doubtful look. Yoongi brushes it off. “But I guess just try and keep him comfortable when it’s cold or like when there’s cold things around? Offer him a jacket, don’t order him cold food.”
The others all nod, as if taking his word as gospel and look at him to continue.
“Mainly just talk to him – ask him if he’s okay, ask him what he needs.”
Sensing Yoongi was finished, they all nod once more and Seokjin dismisses them to do as they please (read: sleep). Jimin hangs back, and he and Seokjin talk in whispers as Yoongi goes about preparing Namjoon’s drink.
It doesn’t take him too long to complete. Once he pulls his phone from his pocket to review the steps on how to make the home remedy, he sets up what he needs and it all goes smoothly. All he really has to do is make the tea and let it cool (he does that first), measure out a portion of ginger juice and sugar and mix it all together. He pours the final drink into Namjoon’s favourite Ryan the Lion mug, which is a guilty pleasure of the leader’s. He honestly isn’t sure how the drink will taste, but it smells alright. He clasps the mug nervously in one hand.
He nods at Seokjin and Jimin as he carefully makes his way to Namjoon’s room, not willing to spill a single drop.
He knocks softly with his free hand and is surprised when the door opens before him. Namjoon stands before him dressed in warm looking pyjamas, a flannelette pair Yoongi has never seen before.
A pair that has pants covered in tiny Ryan the Lion’s.
Namjoon’s eyes dart to the mug in Yoongi’s hand and Yoongi takes in his patterned pyjama pants.
Yoongi isn’t sure who starts laughing first, but he sure as hell needs to put this mug down before he spills any on the carpet. Once the matching mug is set safely on Namjoon’s bedside table, Yoongi sits on the side Namjoon’s bed. He looks up at the boy before bursting out into another bout of laughter.
Through his own cackles and unattractive snorts, he can hear Namjoon’s own laugh, hearty and full. It bounds off the walls of the bedroom and rattles around in Yoongi’s ribcage. Yoongi can’t remember the last time he laughed like this; completely uncaring, gasping for air. He can’t find it in himself to stop either, spurred on by Namjoon’s laughter.
They’re both reaching the point of hysterics when Yoongi finally manages to take in a few deep lungfuls of air. His giggles subside slowly, Namjoon’s too, as he attempts to regulate his breathing.
He only notices he’s fallen back to lay on Namjoon’s bed when he turns his head, the younger staring right back at him, chest noticeably heaving.
Yoongi feels his heartbeat race and he knows it’s not from the now subsided laughter. He feels like he should say something but he doesn’t know he could possibly say. He wracks his brain for something, anything, before he remembers the drink he’s made (which is truthfully probably a little on the cool side by now). He opens his mouth to tell Namjoon just as the younger starts talking himself.
“I brought you this–”
“Where’s Jeongguk?”
Namjoon chuckles nervously, scratching at his stomach. “You first.”
Yoongi would do the whole ‘no you first’ shtick, but he’s too nervous to wait.
“I brought you this drink,” he says, sitting up to grasp in between his palms once more.
He’s pleased to note it’s still quite warm, handing it to Namjoon only somewhat self-consciously.
Namjoon props himself up and takes the mug with a smile, shivering in what Yoongi hopes is a good way, and bring it to his face. Hesitantly, he takes a deep breath in through his nose. Namjoon moans out loud, moans, and Yoongi can’t stop the blush that stains his cheeks.
“This smells amazing,” Namjoon assures Yoongi, taking a sip and letting out another sound which would be suspicious to an outsider and that has Yoongi’s flush creeping up to the tips of his ears. “What is it?”
Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat and look at the bed sheets as he quietly lists the ingredients for Namjoon.
“Wow, what a combination.” Namjoon whistles lowly, taking a large gulp from his mug. “It’s a weird one but it goes so well together.”
Yoongi looks up when he’s sure his cheeks aren’t as red anymore and gives Namjoon a small smile.
“Oh, where’s Jeongguk by the way?” Namjoon asks suddenly, remembering his earlier train of thought.
“He’s staying in the kid’s room – give you some space, y’know?”
Namjoon’s brow furrows and Yoongi is suddenly worried they’ve done something wrong.
“Did you not want that or–”
“No, no, it’s fine – really. Thank you.” Namjoon cuts him off, picking at the hem of his pyjama shirt.
Yoongi watches, confused about his sudden change in demeanour.
“Joon-ah?” Yoongi questions softly, hoping the nickname will draw a response out of him.
When he receives no answer, he steels his nerves and reaches out to place a comforting hand on Namjoon’s thigh, just as Seokjin had done.
The younger takes in an audible breath at the action, eyes flicking up to meet Yoongi’s. He searches them for something – Yoongi isn’t sure what – before speaking.
“I just – I don’t want to be alone.” Namjoon admits in a small voice, smaller than Yoongi has ever heard.
Compared to Namjoon confessing his fear earlier, this seems to be more shameful for him to share. Yoongi grasps at straws as he rushes to fix the situation.
“I can go tell Jeongguk you’d rather him stay with–”
Namjoon is shaking his head already. Yoongi halts, snapping his mouth closed. He waits for Namjoon to offer an alternative but it never comes. Yoongi hesitantly asks:
“Well, what can I do then?”
Namjoon looks up at him, the epitome of innocence. His eyes big as a doe’s, lips pushed out in a pout no one could resist and a crinkle to his nose that you would be willing to say anything to get it to drop.
“Will you stay with me, hyung?”
If Yoongi thought his heart hurt earlier, it was aching something fierce now. He was almost convinced that Namjoon could be ripping it out of his chest with his bare hands.
Everything about him in this moment, Yoongi thinks, is killing me.
His soft voice, asking questions Yoongi never thought he would hear outside of a dream; giving looks expressing innocence Yoongi never knew Namjoon possessed; eyes widening and eyelashes lengthening in a way they’d never been before and his heart: Yoongi could feel it, hear it – perfectly in sync with his own, beating for each other.
Yoongi feels himself nodding before he truly decides because his heart already knows the answer he wants to give.
Namjoon smiles up at him, shyness still apparent in small amounts but of a different kind now. No longer was he shy because he was fearing rejection, but he was anticipating the uncertain future, what the next few minutes, hours and days would have in store for him.
Yoongi feels himself returning the sentiment, lips tugging into a soft smile without his permission (the work of his melting heart yet again). He’d tried his best for Namjoon all day, pulling out all stocks to keep him comfortable, to care for him properly. In this moment, staring into Namjoon’s eyes as they trade secret smiles, Yoongi feels lighter than he ever has as he realises that he’s succeeded. He was there for Namjoon and he kept him comfortable. He was there for him as his friend. Maybe even a little more, the voice in his head adds and Yoongi can’t find it in himself to disagree with it.
Taking one last breath and sucking up his courage, Yoongi meets Namjoon’s eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll stay.”