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The room was dim in a way that made time feel less strict.
Not dark. Just softened.
The curtains were pulled most of the way closed, leaving a narrow gap where pale morning light slipped through and settled across the floor in a thin, unmoving stripe. Dust motes drifted lazily through it. The air smelled faintly of clean laundry, the kind of warmth that came from freshly dried fabric, layered over the sharper, medicinal note of ointment that had been rubbed into skin earlier and never quite faded. Somewhere under it all was the familiar scent of Namjoon’s shampoo, warm and grounding in a way Jin hadn’t realized he needed until now.
Jin lay on his side with his back to the wall, propped into a careful nest of pillows.
It didn’t look intentional at first glance. The pillows weren’t stacked neatly or symmetrically. They were wedged and angled and tucked wherever they needed to be. One braced behind Jin’s shoulder so his arm wouldn’t go numb. Another supported his lower back so he didn’t twist as the minutes stretched into hours. Two more were stacked beneath Namjoon’s chest, lifting him just enough that he could curl forward without the pull that came with lying flat.
Namjoon slept like he had made a decision about it.
He was half on Jin, half on the pillows, his weight spread carefully in a way that suggested someone had moved him with thought and then stopped touching him altogether. His face was tucked into Jin’s shoulder, nose brushing the collar of Jin’s shirt, breath warm through the fabric. One arm looped around Jin’s waist, loose but certain, like it had landed there naturally and stayed. His fingers were curled into the hem of Jin’s shirt, knuckles slack, grip unconscious.
Jin stayed still.
He had learned when it mattered and when it didn’t.
He could shift his legs a little. He could roll his shoulder if he did it slowly enough. But when it came to Namjoon, when it came to the weight pressed against his front and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Jin kept himself quiet.
Not because Namjoon startled easily. Not because he panicked when woken. It was more practical than that. Every small movement tugged at muscles that were already sore. Every careless shift pulled at bruises still settling beneath skin. Jin had seen the way Namjoon’s jaw tightened the first time he’d tried to move them both, felt the way Namjoon went rigid for half a breath before forcing himself to relax again.
So Jin adjusted carefully. And then he stopped adjusting.
It wasn’t uncomfortable in the way people imagined. It wasn’t noble suffering or stubbornness. It was just commitment. A steady decision made over and over again in small ways.
His right arm was pinned beneath Namjoon’s torso, but not trapped. The pillow placement gave him room, kept the weight from cutting off circulation. His left arm was free. He held his phone low in that hand, screen dimmed until it barely glowed, and scrolled slowly with his thumb.
No sound. No vibration. Everything unnecessary was turned off.
His attention drifted easily. From the phone to Namjoon’s face. From Namjoon’s face to his breathing. Jin counted the breaths without meaning to. In through the nose, careful and quiet. Out in a long exhale that softened at the end, almost a sigh.
Each time Namjoon breathed like that, Jin felt his chest loosen just a little.
He’d been listening like this since the accident. Since the platform. Since the moment when everything had stretched too far and taken too long and then finally stopped.
Jin’s thumb paused over a message on his screen.
You eating? You drinking? — Hoseok, sent earlier that morning.
Jin typed back one-handed.
He’s asleep. I’m okay.
He hesitated, then added:
Water would be good if you’re up.
He sent it and set the phone face-up near his hip. His palm settled back against Namjoon’s back, warm and steady. He let his eyes close.
Not to sleep. Just to rest.
The kind where thoughts loosen their grip and drift without going anywhere dangerous.
Time passed in pieces. A breath. Another. The light shifting slightly on the wall.
A soft knock came at the door.
Jin didn’t answer right away. He turned his head just enough to listen. The handle turned slowly, carefully, like whoever was on the other side already knew what they were walking into.
Hoseok slipped into the room with the quiet confidence of someone who had learned how to enter gently.
He had a tote bag slung over one shoulder and a bottle of water in his hand. His eyes went straight to the bed and softened immediately.
“Oh,” Hoseok whispered, even though no one had asked him to.
Jin’s lips curved faintly. “Yeah.”
Hoseok closed the door behind him without letting it click and moved closer, stopping at the foot of the bed as if there were an invisible boundary there. He took in the scene slowly. The pillows. The careful angle of Namjoon’s body. The way Namjoon’s arm was looped around Jin’s waist like it belonged there.
“You okay?” Hoseok asked softly.
Jin nodded. “I’m fine.”
Hoseok didn’t challenge that. He stepped closer and set the water bottle within Jin’s reach, careful not to let the plastic crinkle. He crouched and opened the tote bag, pulling out a small container of food, a pair of chopsticks, and another bottle of water.
“I brought you something easy,” Hoseok murmured. “Nothing spicy.”
“Thank you,” Jin said, and meant it more than the word alone suggested.
Hoseok’s gaze flicked back to Namjoon, more clinical now but no less gentle. “He’s been out like this?”
“Since early morning,” Jin replied quietly. “Woke up once for meds. Went right back to sleep.”
Hoseok nodded. “That tracks. The doctor said the pain meds would knock him out. His body needs it.”
Jin twisted the cap off the water bottle and took a careful sip, eyes never leaving Namjoon’s face.
“How’s the back?” Hoseok asked.
“He says it pulls if he’s flat,” Jin said. “So we’re not doing that.”
Hoseok hummed thoughtfully. “Makes sense. Hitting part of the set on the way down would do that. It’s not just the fall. It’s how the muscles seize when something catches first.”
Jin’s jaw tightened for half a second before he smoothed it out again.
Hoseok noticed anyway. He reached out and adjusted the pillow behind Jin’s shoulder, nudging it a fraction of an inch higher. “This okay?”
Jin shifted experimentally and breathed out. “Yeah. That helps.”
Hoseok smiled, relieved. “Good.”
He settled onto the floor with his back against the wall, making himself small, like the room had a volume he didn’t want to exceed.
“You eaten yet?” Hoseok asked.
“Not really.”
Hoseok gave him a look. “You can eat now. He’s asleep. He’s not going to wake up because you take a few bites.”
Jin didn’t argue. He picked up the chopsticks and ate slowly, one-handed, careful with each movement. His other hand stayed warm and steady against Namjoon’s back the entire time.
They sat in quiet like that. Jin eating. Hoseok watching Namjoon’s breathing like it was something he could measure.
Namjoon shifted once, barely. His brow furrowed, breath hitching before smoothing out again. Jin held himself motionless, breath caught in his chest, until Namjoon settled deeper into sleep, arm tightening briefly around Jin’s waist before relaxing again.
Only then did Jin breathe.
“He really sleeps better like that,” Hoseok murmured.
“He does,” Jin said softly.
Hoseok stayed a little longer, then stood just as carefully as he’d arrived. “I’ll check back later,” he whispered. “Text me if anything changes. Even if it feels small.”
“Okay,” Jin said.
At the door, Hoseok paused and looked back once more. “He’s lucky,” he said quietly.
Jin didn’t answer. He looked down at Namjoon instead.
The door closed without a sound, and the room settled back into stillness.
Time passed after Hoseok left, though Jin couldn’t have said how much.
It moved differently now. In stretches of quiet that were punctuated only by Namjoon’s breathing and the slow creep of light across the wall. Jin dozed in shallow layers, never falling fully under, waking whenever Namjoon shifted or his breathing changed. Each time, he took inventory. Weight. Warmth. Stillness. Then he let himself rest again.
At some point, Jin plugged his phone in. He did it slowly, inch by inch, easing the cable into place so it wouldn’t tug if he shifted. The small domestic action felt strangely grounding, like proof that the world was still made of ordinary things.
Namjoon slept through it.
That, more than anything, told Jin how deep the exhaustion went. Namjoon was usually a light sleeper. A change in the room, a new presence, and he’d stir. Now, he was heavy with it. Boneless. Trusting.
Jin let his eyes close again.
Not sleep. Just rest.
The room felt different when he opened them next. The light had shifted, warmer now, slanting lower across the floor. Afternoon.
There was a knock at the door. Slower than before. Deliberate.
Jin murmured, “Yeah,” without lifting his head.
Yoongi let himself in and closed the door quietly behind him. He didn’t speak right away. He leaned back against the wall for a moment, arms crossed, taking in the room in one steady sweep. The pillows. The charger. The water bottle. Jin’s posture. Namjoon’s weight anchored against him.
“He out?” Yoongi asked softly.
Jin nodded. “Has been.”
Yoongi pushed off the wall and stepped closer, stopping beside the bed. He didn’t hover. He didn’t crouch. He just stood there, solid and unintrusive.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Yoongi’s gaze tracked the slow rise and fall of Namjoon’s shoulders. The way his arm was looped around Jin’s waist. The familiar shape of Jin’s hand spread protectively at the center of Namjoon’s back.
“You found something that works,” Yoongi said at last.
Jin let out a quiet breath. “Took a while.”
Yoongi nodded. “Looks stable.”
“It is,” Jin said. “As long as I don’t do anything stupid.”
Yoongi’s mouth twitched. “You say that like you were considering it.”
Jin almost smiled.
Yoongi’s eyes flicked to the charger cable stretched a little too taut across the bed. Without comment, he reached out, unplugged the block, and swapped it for a sturdier one with two ports. He adjusted the cable carefully, giving it slack so it wouldn’t pull if Jin shifted.
“Your phone was at thirty percent earlier,” Yoongi said. “That stressed me out.”
Jin huffed softly. “Thanks.”
Yoongi stepped back and leaned against the wall again. His voice stayed low. “How’s the pain?”
“Managed,” Jin said. “The meds help. He wakes up sore, but it’s better than yesterday.”
Yoongi nodded. “Good.”
Silence settled again, easy but weighted.
“You were close,” Yoongi said after a moment.
Jin didn’t look up. “Yeah.”
“Closer than most.”
“Yeah.”
Yoongi waited. He always did.
Jin’s hand pressed a little more firmly into Namjoon’s back, grounding himself in warmth and familiarity. When he spoke, his voice was steady. He didn’t let it waver.
“When he went over,” Jin said quietly, “I thought he was going to flip.”
Yoongi’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“He clipped the frame,” Jin continued. “I saw the angle. For a second, I thought his head was going to catch instead of his shoulder.”
He paused, breath even. “I didn’t think he was going to stop.”
The words hung in the air, unadorned.
Yoongi exhaled slowly. “But he did.”
“I know,” Jin said.
“He’s here,” Yoongi added. “Breathing.”
“I know.”
Yoongi didn’t push further. He didn’t offer platitudes. He let the truth stand as it was.
Then, gently, “You should sleep when he sleeps.”
Jin frowned faintly. “I am resting.”
“You’re awake,” Yoongi said calmly. “There’s a difference.”
Jin opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again.
“You won’t help him by wrecking yourself,” Yoongi continued. “You’re not doing him any favors by staying wound that tight.”
Jin swallowed. “I don’t want to miss it if he—”
“If he wakes, you’ll feel it,” Yoongi interrupted, not unkindly. “You always do.”
Jin looked down at Namjoon’s face. Thought about weight and warmth and the way Namjoon had settled into him without question.
“I’ll try,” Jin said quietly.
Yoongi nodded, satisfied. He stepped closer and tugged the blanket higher around Jin’s shoulders, careful not to disturb Namjoon. Then he set a small packet of snacks within reach on the nightstand.
“You eat,” Yoongi said. “You sleep. You call if you need something.”
“I will.”
Yoongi lingered another second, gaze steady. “You did good.”
Jin didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
Yoongi slipped out as quietly as he’d come, closing the door with a soft click.
The room settled again.
Jin adjusted his grip just enough to ease the tension in his wrist. Namjoon shifted in response, arm tightening briefly around Jin’s waist before relaxing again.
Jin breathed out slowly.
This time, when he let his eyes close, sleep came easier.
Jin woke slowly, the way someone does when sleep has been thin and careful.
Not startled. Not alarmed. Just aware that something in the room had changed.
The light was different now. Lower. Warmer. Late afternoon edging toward evening. The shadows along the wall had stretched, softer at the edges. Jin blinked once and took inventory without moving. Namjoon’s weight was still there. Warm. Solid. His breathing was steady, deep enough that Jin could feel it through his chest.
Only then did Jin notice the shift at the foot of the bed.
Jimin sat there, perched carefully on the edge of the mattress near their feet. One hand braced beside him, the other folded loosely in his lap. He looked like he’d been there for a moment already, debating whether to speak or leave again without being noticed.
When Jin’s eyes opened fully, Jimin froze.
“Oh,” he whispered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” Jin murmured. His voice came out rough with rest, but steady. “He didn’t wake.”
Jimin glanced up immediately, eyes flicking to Namjoon’s face. Relief softened his shoulders when Namjoon remained curled into Jin, breathing slow and even.
“I tried not to move,” Jimin said quietly. “I just… didn’t want to stand there.”
Jin nodded. He understood that instinct too.
Jimin adjusted his weight a fraction, careful not to send any more movement through the mattress. From where he sat, he could see everything. The deliberate angle of Namjoon’s body. The way the pillows supported him. Jin’s hand resting flat at the center of Namjoon’s back, fingers spread like an anchor.
“He looks really out,” Jimin said softly.
“He hasn’t been waking much,” Jin replied. “Not today.”
“That’s good,” Jimin said, then paused. “I mean. Good that he’s sleeping.”
They fell quiet again.
Jimin didn’t rush the silence. He never did. He just sat there, eyes moving slowly, taking in details without staring. Jin could feel the question forming long before Jimin spoke it.
“How bad is it really?” Jimin asked at last.
There was no panic in his voice. No accusation. Just care, stripped down to its simplest form.
Jin didn’t answer right away.
He looked down at Namjoon first, watched the steady rise and fall of his shoulders. Listened for any change in his breathing. When Namjoon remained deep under, Jin nodded to himself.
“Hold on,” Jin whispered.
He moved slowly.
Not cautiously. Deliberately.
With two fingers, Jin hooked the hem of Namjoon’s shirt and lifted it just a little. An inch at first. He paused there, eyes flicking to Namjoon’s face. When there was no reaction, he lifted it a little more, exposing the skin at Namjoon’s lower back and side.
The bruise had deepened since morning.
It spread wide across Namjoon’s side, dark purple bleeding into blue and green at the edges. Not sharp. Not neat. The kind of bruise that spoke of blunt impact and twisting muscle. Proof of something catching him before the floor ever had a chance to.
Jimin inhaled sharply before he could stop himself.
“Oh,” he breathed.
Jin kept his eyes on Namjoon, shirt held just high enough to show and no higher. “He hit part of the set on the way down,” he said quietly. “That’s where most of it came from.”
Jimin swallowed. His hands tightened briefly in his lap before he forced them to relax.
“That’s… worse than I thought,” Jimin murmured.
“It looked bad,” Jin replied simply.
He lowered the shirt again with the same care, smoothing the fabric back into place like it mattered. Like it could undo something if he didn’t. His palm returned to Namjoon’s back, warm and steady, fingers spreading slightly to avoid the bruised area beneath.
Jimin’s eyes followed the movement. Something in his expression softened, then tightened again.
“You’ve been holding him like that all day,” Jimin said.
Jin shrugged faintly. “It works.”
Jimin nodded, accepting that without question. He leaned forward then, reaching out slowly, stopping to make sure Jin was watching. When Jin didn’t object, Jimin nudged the pillow beneath Jin’s shoulder, adjusting it by a careful fraction of an inch.
“This okay?” Jimin asked.
Jin shifted experimentally. The tension along his neck eased almost immediately. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Thank you.”
Jimin smiled, small and relieved, like he was glad to have done something tangible.
They sat together in the quiet for a while after that. The kind that felt full rather than empty.
Namjoon stirred once, barely. His brow furrowed, breath hitching before smoothing out again. His arm tightened briefly around Jin’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of Jin’s shirt.
Jin didn’t move.
Jimin didn’t either.
They waited, still as the room itself, until Namjoon settled again, cheek pressing deeper into Jin’s shoulder, fingers loosening.
Only then did Jimin breathe.
“He really trusts you,” Jimin whispered.
Jin swallowed. “Yeah.”
Jimin stayed a little longer, then rose slowly, careful of the mattress. At the door, he paused, hand resting on the handle.
“You don’t have to hold yourself so tight,” he said gently. “We’re here too.”
Jin nodded, once.
The door closed softly behind him.
The room slipped back into quiet, evening light pooling along the walls. Jin rested his cheek lightly against Namjoon’s hair and let himself breathe.
There was still more night to come.
Jungkook hovered outside the door longer than he meant to.
His hand lifted once, then dropped again. He stood there listening to the quiet on the other side like it might tell him whether he was allowed in yet. When he finally pushed the door open, it was slow and careful, the way you moved when you weren’t sure you deserved to disturb a space this still.
He slipped inside and closed the door without letting it click.
Jin noticed immediately.
Not because Jungkook made noise, but because the air in the room shifted. Jin opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to see Jungkook standing a few steps inside, hands clasped together in front of him, shoulders tight like he was holding himself in place.
“Oh,” Jungkook breathed when he realized Jin was awake. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” Jin murmured. “He’s still asleep.”
Jungkook’s gaze snapped to the bed. To Namjoon curled into Jin, face tucked into his shoulder, arm looped around Jin’s waist like he’d anchored himself there.
Jungkook swallowed.
“He hasn’t moved,” he whispered.
“He’s been out for a while,” Jin said. “That’s good.”
Jungkook nodded, but his shoulders didn’t relax. He stepped forward, then stopped, clearly unsure how close was too close.
“I brought food,” he said quietly, lifting the paper bag he’d been holding. “For you. I know he’s not—” He stopped himself. “I know he’s asleep.”
“Thank you,” Jin said. “You can set it there.”
Jungkook did, placing it carefully on the nightstand. His eyes flicked to Jin’s phone, still plugged in, and he pulled out a longer charging cable.
“Yoongi fixed the block earlier,” Jungkook said softly. “This one just reaches better.”
“That’s fine,” Jin said. “Thanks.”
Jungkook swapped the cable, arranging it so there was slack, then stood there again, hands empty now and not sure where to go.
“It was quiet,” Jungkook said suddenly.
Jin’s gaze dropped to Namjoon’s face.
“After,” Jungkook clarified. “Right after he fell.”
Jin didn’t respond, but he didn’t look away either.
“I remember thinking someone would say something,” Jungkook continued. “That he would. Or that you would. Or anyone.” His voice tightened. “But no one did.”
Jin’s fingers pressed more firmly into Namjoon’s back.
“I kept waiting for him to answer,” Jungkook said. “They were calling his name and it felt like it went on forever.”
Jin swallowed.
“I don’t even remember where I was standing,” Jungkook admitted. “I just remember staring at him and waiting.”
“Me too,” Jin said quietly.
That made Jungkook look up.
“I don’t remember anything else,” Jin continued. “Just watching his chest. Waiting for him to move. Waiting for him to breathe right. Waiting for him to say something.”
Jungkook nodded, hard. “Yeah.”
Namjoon shifted slightly at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. His brow furrowed, breath hitching once before smoothing out again. Jin went still, every muscle holding, until Namjoon settled deeper into sleep, arm tightening briefly around Jin’s waist before relaxing again.
Jungkook watched it happen, eyes wide.
“He does that every time?” Jungkook whispered.
“Sometimes,” Jin said. “He settles faster if I don’t move.”
Jungkook nodded, absorbing that. He pulled the chair closer and sat down carefully, elbows resting on his knees.
“I still hear the silence,” Jungkook admitted. “That part.”
Jin didn’t try to fix that. He just said, “Yeah.”
They sat together for a while after that. Not talking. Just breathing. Letting the quiet exist without filling it.
Eventually, Jungkook stood. “I can sit with him if you need to step out,” he offered. “Or if you want to lie back more. I can—”
Jin shook his head. “I’m okay.”
Jungkook searched his face, then nodded. “Okay.”
At the door, he paused. “Hyung?”
Jin looked at him.
“Call me if you need anything,” Jungkook said. “Anything.”
“I will.”
Jungkook slipped out quietly, closing the door with care.
The room settled again.
Jin adjusted his grip just enough to ease the tension in his wrist. Namjoon responded by pressing closer, arm tightening for a brief second before relaxing again, trusting.
Jin rested his cheek lightly against Namjoon’s hair.
The waiting was over.
The staying wasn’t.
Taehyung came after the hallway had gone still.
Jin noticed it first in the absence of sound. No footsteps passing. No doors opening and closing. The building settling into itself the way it only did late at night. The light in the room had dimmed to a softer glow, the lamp turned low enough that it barely touched the corners.
Namjoon slept on.
His breathing was steady now, deeper than it had been earlier, the tension that had lived in his shoulders finally easing. His arm was still looped around Jin’s waist, but looser, fingers resting without gripping. Comfortable.
Jin felt the mattress dip almost imperceptibly at the foot of the bed.
He didn’t open his eyes right away.
Taehyung didn’t speak.
He sat there quietly, weight carefully placed, hands tucked into the sleeves of his sweater. Jin could feel his presence in the room the way you felt a change in temperature rather than a sound.
After a moment, Taehyung whispered, “He looks settled.”
Jin opened his eyes and glanced down at Namjoon before answering. “He is.”
Taehyung leaned forward slightly, gaze moving over the careful arrangement of pillows, the charger cable tucked out of the way, the water bottle within reach. He noticed everything. He always did.
“You figured it out,” Taehyung said softly.
Jin huffed under his breath. “Eventually.”
Taehyung smiled, small and fond. He reached out, paused, then adjusted the edge of the blanket where it had slipped near Namjoon’s hip. His movements were slow, almost ceremonial, like he was afraid of breaking something delicate.
Namjoon didn’t stir.
Taehyung exhaled quietly, relief evident in the sound. He shifted closer, lowering his voice even further.
“He always sleeps like that when his back hurts,” Taehyung murmured. “Curled forward. He used to do it after long practice days.”
Jin nodded. “He says it pulls less this way.”
“That sounds about right,” Taehyung said. He tilted his head slightly, thoughtful. “If his back caught the edge first…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t need to.
The room already knew.
Taehyung reached out again, this time adjusting one of the pillows behind Jin’s shoulder. Just a small shift. Barely an inch. Jin felt the tension along his neck ease almost immediately.
Jin breathed out slowly. “Thank you.”
Taehyung’s smile warmed. “You’re welcome.”
They sat together in the quiet for a few minutes after that. No need to fill it. The kind of silence that felt intentional rather than empty.
At last, Taehyung stood. He moved carefully, mindful of the mattress, mindful of Namjoon’s sleep. He reached for the lamp and dimmed it another notch, letting the room sink further into shadow.
“I’ll let you rest,” he whispered.
Jin nodded. “Okay.”
At the door, Taehyung paused and looked back once more. His gaze lingered on the way Namjoon was tucked into Jin, on Jin’s hand steady at his back.
“You’re doing good,” Taehyung said quietly.
Then he slipped out, closing the door with a soft finality.
The room settled into true night.
Jin adjusted his grip just enough to ease the ache in his wrist, careful not to disturb Namjoon. Namjoon shifted in response, cheek pressing more firmly into Jin’s shoulder, breath warm and even.
Jin rested his cheek lightly against Namjoon’s hair and let the quiet stretch.
Tomorrow could wait.
Jin woke to warmth and a careful shift that wasn’t pain, but wasn’t nothing either.
He didn’t open his eyes right away. He stayed still, listening, cataloging the change the way he had learned to. Namjoon’s breathing was different. Lighter. Less weighted. There was a quiet tension in the arm around Jin’s waist, fingers flexing once, then settling again as if testing whether Jin was awake.
Jin murmured softly, more vibration than sound. “Hey.”
The arm tightened a fraction.
A moment passed. Then Namjoon’s voice, rough and low with sleep. “Hey.”
Jin opened his eyes and tipped his head just enough to look down. Namjoon’s eyes were half-open, unfocused but present. His brow creased faintly as he took in Jin’s face, the dim room, the familiar shape of the headboard behind them.
“You stayed,” Namjoon said quietly.
It wasn’t a question. It was an observation.
Jin nodded. “Yeah.”
Namjoon breathed out, something easing in the sound. “Good.”
He shifted, instinctive and unthinking, then froze when pain flared. His jaw tightened, breath pulling sharp through his nose before he forced it to slow.
Jin’s hand was already steady at his back. “Easy.”
“I know,” Namjoon murmured. “Sorry. Forgot for a second.”
Jin waited. Let the tension pass. Let Namjoon settle again into the pillows and Jin’s side.
Namjoon blinked a few times, focus sharpening. His gaze drifted, taking inventory the way Jin had been doing all day. The charger plugged into the wall. The water bottle within reach. The faint crinkle of a food wrapper on the nightstand. Jin’s phone, face-down but charging.
“You ate,” Namjoon said softly.
Jin huffed. “Eventually.”
“And slept,” Namjoon added, eyes narrowing just a touch.
Jin raised an eyebrow. “Some.”
Namjoon hummed, unconvinced but letting it go. His hand slid a little higher on Jin’s side, fingers brushing Jin’s ribs like he was checking that Jin was solid. Still there.
“Thank you,” Namjoon said after a moment.
The words were quiet, but they landed with weight.
Jin swallowed. “You don’t have to—”
“I do,” Namjoon interrupted gently. “I woke up earlier. You were still here. I went back to sleep, and when I woke up again…” He trailed off, breath hitching just slightly. “You stayed.”
Jin’s throat tightened. He kept his voice steady. “Of course I did.”
Namjoon’s mouth curved into a small, tired smile. “I know. Still.”
He shifted again, this time with intention. Slower. Thinking through the movement before committing to it.
Jin tensed automatically, ready to hold himself still, but Namjoon noticed.
“Hey,” Namjoon murmured. “Can we adjust a little?”
Jin blinked. “You sure?”
Namjoon nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been holding yourself weird.”
Jin laughed quietly despite himself. “You noticed that?”
“I always notice,” Namjoon said, and there was a hint of himself in the words. “You look uncomfortable.”
Jin hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Tell me what you need.”
Namjoon moved carefully, guiding Jin through it with small touches and murmured cues. He shifted his own weight onto the pillows, wincing once but breathing through it. Jin followed, easing his trapped arm free, adjusting the pillows for both of them until the strain eased from his shoulder and neck.
When they settled again, the position was different. Namjoon was still close, still warm, but the weight was balanced now. Sustainable.
Jin let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Better?” Namjoon asked.
“Yeah,” Jin admitted. “A lot.”
“Good,” Namjoon murmured.
His eyes were already drooping again, exhaustion pulling him back under now that he’d checked what mattered.
“You should sleep,” Namjoon said softly. “For real.”
Jin smiled down at him. “You just woke up.”
“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t,” Namjoon replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jin brushed his thumb lightly against Namjoon’s shoulder, careful of the bruised skin beneath. “Okay.”
Namjoon’s eyes closed fully. His breathing evened out again, slower but steady, the tension in his body easing now that he’d checked what mattered. One hand rested loosely against Jin’s chest, not gripping, just there.
Jin shifted just enough to settle into the new position, the bed finally supporting both of them the way it should have hours ago. He tipped his head down, careful, mindful of every inch between them.
He pressed a soft kiss into Namjoon’s hair.
It was barely more than a brush of his lips. Something Namjoon wouldn’t wake for. Something meant only to be felt.
Jin lingered there for a second, forehead resting against Namjoon’s temple, breathing him in. Then he eased back, careful not to disturb the balance they’d found.
He let his eyes close, the last of the tension in his body finally releasing.
As sleep pulled him under, Jin felt Namjoon’s fingers twitch once, like he was checking again.
Jin stayed.
And this time, he rested too.