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“Hyung,” Namjoon says, tiredly, one hand raising up to run through his hair. “Hyung, you’ve got to get up, we have practice.”
The tuft of black poking out from under the blankets doesn’t stir, and Namjoon sighs. “Yoongi-hyung, c’mon, we’re gonna be late.”
There’s no response, but Namjoon jumps about three feet in the air when an arm drapes around his shoulders. A warm, suntanned, bare arm. Namjoon can feel his eye twitching. “Yeah, hyung, get moving. Even Jungkook’s up already.” Hoseok’s voice is low, a little raspy from sleep, right in Namjoon’s ear. He’s not sure who else he expected. Hoseok is the only one that dares to get so close to Namjoon, even after years in Bangtan.
He takes a deep breath and regrets it immediately. Hoseok is so close that the air is permeated with his musk – not a bad scent, per se, but Namjoon finds it uncomfortable. He’s rarely close enough to someone to smell it. “Hyung,” he says, somewhat uncertain. “Hyung, can you not?”
“Yeah hyung, you’re holding all of us up.” Namjoon glances over. Hoseok is naked. From the waist up. Small mercies, Namjoon supposes – at least he has pants on. Hoseok turns and grins at him, conspiratorially. “I’ll never understand how hyung’s so good at music when he’s so lazy,” Hoseok says, laughing.
The only thing that is running through Namjoon’s mind is ‘I meant you.’ He swallows. “Hyung, just get up,” he says. Hoseok has started putting more weight on him, despite being slightly shorter than he is. Namjoon is speaking to both of them now. “Please.”
“What are you talking about?”
Both of them turn around. Yoongi is standing there, towel covering half of his wet hair, eyeing both of them with a raised eyebrow. He glances between both of them, then very obviously down at Hoseok’s bare chest. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?”
Without thinking, Namjoon shoves Hoseok aside. Hoseok’s arm falls limply to his side. Namjoon tries not to think about what his face looks like. “No,” he says quickly, flatly. His shoulders feel cold. He crosses his arms to hide it. “We were trying to gang up on you.” He gestures a little lamely at the bed, where the black is still poking out, trying to get the attention off of himself. “Who’s that, then?”
It works. “Nobody,” Yoongi says, and the weird note in his voice makes Namjoon suspicious. Hoseok snickers a little. “I’m up, so your duty here is done.” He tries to shoo them out of his room, flapping his arms like an angry mother hen before shoving at them. “Now get out.”
Namjoon struggles and manages to keep himself in the room, but Hoseok slips free and makes a break for the bed. Yoongi tries to grab him, but Hoseok twists away, back flexing in an impossible maneuver to avoid Yoongi’s fingers, and snatches up the blankets.
All three of them stare at the bed. Lying there is a huge black Kumamon plushie, almost Yoongi’s height, and nearly twice his width. The black tuft, the body-sized lump, all makes sense now - Yoongi’s love for Kumamon has evidently gone to a whole new level - but Namjoon still has questions to ask. “...why is his butt where your pillow is?”
Yoongi squawks indignantly and starts screeching at them both, and Namjoon and Hoseok share a look before they start booking it out of the room, cackling gleefully.
Hoseok’s touch on his shoulder is forgotten, for now.
***
Namjoon isn't used to being touched. Even within Bangtan, most of the members give him a healthy distance - maybe because he's the leader, or too tall, or too dark, or something.
Sometimes, Namjoon thinks he envies them. He sees Taehyung curl into Jimin’s side. He sees Seokjin pat Jungkook’s head. He sees Yoongi absently tapping music into Hoseok’s skin. Humans are social creatures and they crave touch, and Namjoon finds it's possible to miss something he's never known.
Maybe that’s why Hoseok’s touch bothers him so much. Why is it that everyone else seems comforted by touch, but Namjoon only feels uncomfortable? He doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like the overbearing scent of another person, doesn’t like the too-warm slide of skin on skin, doesn’t like the abnormal thumping in his chest.
Namjoon wonders, sometimes, if he’s dysfunctional. All humans crave touch. So why does he despise it so? Why does he still want it when he hates how it makes him feel?
He wonders if maybe, there is a song in here. Something about longing, and feeling, and things that should be good for you but feel wrong, and things that are wrong but feel better than anything in the world.
He thinks he doesn’t have the words for it, not yet, but he files the feeling away for use, later, when he’s figured out what the hell it is.
***
Things get worse.
Hoseok convinces Namjoon to sit in the back of the van, relinquishing shotgun up to Yoongi (who instantly passes out), then proceeds to spend the entire car ride pressed up entirely against him, even as he chats comfortably with the other members. Namjoon spends the entire ride squeezing himself against the side of the car, one side uncomfortably warm, one side staggeringly cold.
When dance practice starts, Hoseok falls into his teacher role naturally, flitting between Seokjin, Yoongi, and Namjoon as per normal. Namjoon hopes he can get over himself, but instead Namjoon finds himself hyperaware of Hoseok’s hands on his skin. Dance is a horribly, horribly physical activity, and Hoseok’s hands are on Namjoon’s hips, rotating them with a gentle pressure, and he’s got one leg between Namjoon’s, keeping his feet in the right position, and Namjoon can’t breathe. Hoseok is too close, closer than Namjoon is used to, and he twists away, sucking in a deep lungful of air.
“Hyung? What’s wrong?” he hears Jimin ask, and Namjoon doesn't know how to answer him. How does he tell Jimin that he's defective, that he's weird, and he can't deal with touch the way everyone else can?
“It's nothing,” he says instead, and his voice sounds hollow. “I'm ok. Just got a muscle spasm.”
He goes back to dancing and pretends he doesn't see Hoseok’s concerned looks. He just needs to focus, and pretend, and he'll be fine.
***
He's not fine.
Hoseok only gets closer as time passes, and every time he comes near Namjoon finds himself holding his breath, bracing himself for the discomfort of being touched.
It's when they're eating dinner one day that Namjoon finally bursts. Hoseok has had a hand on his thigh all throughout the meal, and when he removes it Namjoon breathes a sigh of relief - only to stiffen again when Hoseok slings his arm around his shoulders.
“Stop,” Namjoon chokes out. Hoseok pauses. They all do. Namjoon shakes his head jerkily. “Just. Stop.”
“Stop what?” It's Seokjin that asks, standing up, looking worried. “What's wrong?”
Me, Namjoon thinks. “Please,” he says instead, shrugging Hoseok’s arm off. It’s so cold, suddenly. “Can you please stop touching me?”
Hoseok’s arm is hovering awkwardly where Namjoon had pushed it off, and it takes a few moments for Hoseok to slowly lower it. He’s looking at Namjoon, like a kicked puppy, and Namjoon just leans away, putting good distance between them both. “I don't like you touching me all the time,” he says, and his voice sounds harsher than he meant. Or maybe it’s exactly what he means, pent up frustration spilling into his thoughts, his words. “Personal space is a thing, hyung.”
The words hang in the air between them, heavy, chilling, and Namjoon almost wishes he can take them back. Instead, he clenches his jaw and stares at Hoseok, making it clear who his words are for.
Hoseok looks stricken. He opens his mouth, closes it, and Namjoon can see his throat working. It takes another few moments for Hoseok to finally speak. “Sorry,” he says, and Namjoon hasn't ever heard his voice this small. “I'm… sorry.”
Namjoon isn't hungry any more. “I'm going to the recording room,” he says, shoving back from his seat. Hoseok stays frozen, shoulders hunched, he looks so small and Namjoon feels so guilty but he convinces himself - this is what he needed. “Don't wait up.”
The table is silent as he leaves.
***
It's 3am in the morning and Namjoon’s shoulders still feel cold.
He refuses to think of why, just keeps writing and writing and hoping that things will be better.
***
The next morning, Hoseok is quiet. He has dark circles under his eyes, matching the bruises under Namjoon's. Namjoon forces himself not to feel guilty.
They eat breakfast in near silence. Hoseok doesn't talk to Namjoon, and the other members’ conversations are muted, quiet, interspersed with cautious glances in Namjoon's direction.
He's used to being singled out, used to being weird. This is normal, for him. He ducks his head and focuses on his food, pretending he doesn't see the others staring.
His heart feels cold too. He doesn't want to wonder why.
***
Namjoon never noticed how good of an actor Hoseok was before.
At performances, on shows, he's the same buoyant person, wild and outgoing and touchy. He clings more to the maknaes as usual, but somehow he manages to completely avoid Namjoon with a completely natural smile.
In private though, Hoseok is awkward, uncomfortable. Their dance practices are absolutely terrible ordeals, and Namjoon knows his dancing has worsened without Hoseok's careful step-by-step guidance.
Namjoon tells himself he's doing ok. He doesn't have to deal with that terrible thudding in his heart, the discomfort of being close to someone, but every time he sees Hoseok reach out and pause, then withdraw his hand sadly - every time, Namjoon thinks he's made a mistake.
***
A week has passed. Namjoon doesn't think he's exchanged more than three words with Hoseok outside of public appearances,and he's pretty sure Hoseok hasn't gone anywhere closer than a meter of him.
He thinks this is ok for him, but what's not ok is that Hoseok is looking terribly… sad. As leader, Namjoon needs to check on him.
But as a coward, he can't actually talk to him, so instead he considers bringing up the subject to Yoongi while they're working on a song. Hoseok was supposed to work on it with them too, and Namjoon feels a pang of guilt every time he looks over at the conspicuously empty chair.
“If you keep frowning like that you'll scare away all the fans,” Yoongi drawls, and Namjoon jumps. “Are you finally coming to terms with the fact that you're a dick?”
Namjoon winces. He should have spoken up first - giving Yoongi the lead in a conversation never bodes well for him. “I wasn't doing it just to be mean,” he mumbles, but that really doesn't make it any better. “I just. I needed him to stop.”
Yoongi leans in. “And we come to the heart of the matter,” he says. “Why?”
Namjoon sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I just. I really, really don't like being touched,” he says. It feels weird, saying it out loud. “It makes me uncomfortable.”
Yoongi frowns. “You're fine with the rest of us though, aren't you? We're idols, there's no getting around skinship.”
“I know,” Namjoon mumbles. He's feeling cold again. “A little is ok, I think. But just - he was always touching me, hyung.”
Yoongi says nothing. Namjoon keeps talking. “It just made me so uncomfortable after a while. It feels like I can't focus on anything but his touch and my heart is thumping out of my chest and I can't breathe because he's too close and - I don't know, hyung, it just felt terrible and I couldn't deal with it.”
Yoongi looks at him, and Namjoon knows he's being judged. He kind of wishes he could hide, but Yoongi's always been good at stripping away all his layers. “You know,” Yoongi says, and Namjoon cringes at the cutting tone. “For someone that's supposed to be so smart, you're the dumbest person I've ever met.”
Without another word, Yoongi gets up. Namjoon gapes at him. “What?” He asks, confused.
Yoongi shakes his head. “You're an idiot,” he reiterates, and then Namjoon is left with an unfinished song and silence.
***
Yoongi is no help, Namjoon decides, so he goes to Seokjin instead.
Seokjin is cooking, and everyone else has been ushered out of the kitchen. Namjoon sits gingerly at the table, as quiet as possible, but Seokjin still notices him and whirls around, ladle raised almost threateningly.
“I thought I said nobody's allowed in he- oh. It's you.” Seokjin stares at Namjoon for a few moments, then turns back to his food.
Namjoon is confused. “You're… not going to kick me out?” He asks, cautiously, and Seokjin shrugs.
“You needed something?” Seokjin asks instead, sidestepping Namjoon's question entirely.
Namjoon is silent for a moment, but if Seokjin isn't kicking him out, he might as well take the chance. “Hyung, how is Hoseok doing?”
“He's upset,” comes the expected reply. “You hurt him with what you said.”
Namjoon sighs. This feels like the same conversation he had with Yoongi. “I know,” he says, tiredly. “I didn't mean to, but I needed him to stop.”
“Because he made you uncomfortable?” Seokjin asks wryly, and Namjoon blinks. As though he can see the surprise on Namjoon's face, Seokjin shrugs. “Yoongi told me.”
Namjoon sighs again. “Yoongi-hyung just said I was dumb,” he mutters. “I don't know. I couldn't do anything around Hoseok. This is for the best, isn't it?”
Seokjin tastes his soup, nods approvingly, them turns the heat down. Setting down his cooking utensils, he turns to Namjoon and sits down at the table across from him, staring at him levelly. “So touch makes you uncomfortable,” Seokjin says, voice neutral. “And you wanted Hoseok to give you distance?”
“Yeah,” Namjoon mumbles. “He… he was always touching me. And I couldn't focus on anything else when he was around.”
Seokjin looks at him for a few long moments. “...other than the touch thing,” he says slowly, “how did you feel about Hoseok?”
This is not what Namjoon expected to be talking about, and he frowns. “How is the relevant?”
“Just humor me,” Seokjin insists, resting his chin on his hand. “Please?”
Namjoon still isn't following, but he sighs. “Hoseok's nice,” he says, shrugging. “He's a good listener, usually.” They're almost the same age and Namjoon ends up relying on Hoseok a lot. “He's patient, too.” All those dance practices, late hours spent working through movements that Namjoon just could not get. “Kind.” He's helped Namjoon in so many ways, gone out of his way over and over to do something for Namjoon without asking for anything in return. “He's… he's just. Nice.”
Seokjin blinks at him a few times. “Namjoon,” he says. “How's your heart rate?”
“What?”
Seokjin says nothing. Namjoon bites his lip. His heart is…
Pounding.
He feels warm.
Namjoon’s brow furrows. “I… what?” He says, dumbly, and Seokjin shakes his head in fond exasperation.
“Namjoon,” he says, “if I told you every time I think about someone my heart races and I get a smile on my face, and I get unbelievably flustered every time he touches me - what would you say?”
“I'd say-” that you're in love.
That I'm in love.
Namjoon gets it at last.
***
It is nearly impossible to corner Hoseok.
Every time Namjoon tries to talk to him, the dancer manages to slip away. Excuse after excuse falls from his lips, and Namjoon is always left alone to watch Hoseok's back as he leaves.
Yoongi laughs at Namjoon and slaps his shoulder. “You're still dumb,” he says, and Namjoon fights the urge to hit Yoongi back.
Finally, Namjoon speaks up after dance practice. Hoseok is already packing up, speeding out the door, but Namjoon asks quickly, “Hoseok, can you. Can you stay a while? I need help.”
“In more ways than one,” Yoongi mutters, and Namjoon shoots him a glare, but Yoongi's already across the room, slinging an arm around Jimin’s shoulders. Namjoon takes savage glee in noting that Yoongi can't quits reach properly because he's just an inch or so too short. Serves the unhelpful bastard right.
Hoseok though, is shaking his head. “I, uh, already told Seokjin I was going to help him with dinner,” he says, sending Seokjin a look. Namjoon too turns to Seokjin, who looks highly amused.
“Hoseok, I'll be ok. The others can help me. I'm sure Namjoon needs your help more than I do.” Namjoon is so glad he has one helpful hyung on his side. Yoongi can go to hell. “Namjoon, be good,” Seokjin adds, patting his shoulder a little condescendingly, and Namjoon sighs. He has nobody.
The others leave one by one, ending with Yoongi leaving with a god damn wink (Namjoon is going to kill him), and Hoseok and Namjoon are left alone.
“What do you need help with?” Hoseok asks curtly. He's not looking at Namjoon, and he's standing practically at the other end of the room. Namjoon sighs heavily, trying to figure out how to start.
“Hoseok,” he says slowly, stepping closer. “I… I'm sorry.”
“What for?” Hoseok asks. He's still not looking at Namjoon. “It's not your fault I'm so clingy.”
Namjoon sighs. “No,” he says. “No, I mean - you weren't really being too physical at all. I'm just. I was being stupid.”
“What?” Hoseok looks up, confused. Namjoon steps closer, slowly. Hoseok doesn't move away. “What do you mean?”
“Hoseok,” Namjoon says. “I… I felt weird, when you were around me.” Another step. “I couldn't focus. I could only think about you and your touch and how my heart was racing and-” he cuts off, taking a deep breath. “I misunderstood myself.”
Hoseok still looks lost. Namjoon takes the last step into his space. “I only seem to be affected by your touch,” he says. “I think it's because… because I like you.”
Hoseok blinks and finally seems to realize that Namjoon is literally in his face, and he looks like he wants to flee but Namjoon is quick to reach out and pull him into a hug. They're both sticky and sweaty, and Namjoon can feel his heart racing, again, but he feels warm, so warm, so comfortable, and Namjoon wonders how he could ever have misread his emotions.
“Namjoon…?” Hoseok murmurs, and Namjoon shuts his eyes.
“I thought it was weird when you were being handsy, but. It was so cold without you,” he says. His words feel dumb. He feels dumb, but Hoseok is laughing and Namjoon thinks it feels nice against his skin.
“...so you don’t hate me?” Hoseok murmurs, and his arms are tentatively wrapping around Namjoon in a hug. Namjoon can feel his heartbeat racing again. He doesn’t pull away. “I thought, since I was the only one you burst out at…”
“No, that was just me being dumb,” Namjoon reassures. He’s been calling himself dumb a lot. It’s probably true though. “I. I definitely don’t hate you.”
And Hoseok finally relaxes, and Namjoon smiles and holds him tighter.
...and then he hears a whoop from behind him. Hoseok lifts his head, but Namjoon just groans, letting his head drop. “They’re here, aren’t they.”
“It’s just the hyungs,” Hoseok says, and that really doesn’t make it any better. Yoongi’s laughter makes Namjoon cringe, and when he hears a soft huff of laughter from Seokjin he turns to scowl at them both.
“So you made up, I see,” Seokjin says with a smile. Namjoon stares at them both. Yoongi is still laughing. He also has his phone out.
“...Yoongi. What are you doing?” Namjoon asks with trepidation.
“Leaving off the honorifics, are we?” Yoongi grins, lazy and sharp. “Maybe I really should send these photos off then.”
Namjoon and Hoseok share a look. Synchronized, they leap at Yoongi, and Namjoon thinks that the only thing sweeter than the sound of Yoongi flailing to escape is the laughter that’s spilling from Hoseok’s lips.