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Namjoon looks up at the stars, the infinite expanse of these twinkling creatures he hadn’t seen for a long time living in the city. For a rare while, the ever-turning gears in Namjoon’s brain go still, giving him much needed peace and quiet. It’s just him and Seokjin and the stars, nothing else.
“Joon-ah.” It’s the first thing Seokjin has said in the past ten minutes, and his voice cracks a little around the name. Namjoon shifts, turning so he now lies on his side, facing Seokjin.
“Yeah, hyung?”
Seokjin is lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head. Moonlight illuminates his silhouette, and he looks like an angel. Not like he isn’t always an angel to Namjoon.
“How many stars do you think are up there?” Seokjin doesn’t look away from the sky, but Namjoon knows he notices Namjoon’s gaze on him.
“I don’t know, hyung.” Namjoon’s lips curl ever so slightly. “Maybe as many as the times you’ve asked me that question?” It might even be true, thinks Namjoon. Every time Seokjin’s asked Namjoon to come out with him at night and lie in the grass, he’s asked Namjoon that question. They’ve known each other for ten years, have had this house for five, so that’s a lot of times Seokjin’s asked Namjoon how many stars there are.
Seokjin finally tears his eyes away from the sky and looks at Namjoon. Namjoon’s eyes travel over the elder’s face, and still feels his heart jump a little at Seokjin’s beauty. The way the moonlight enhances his cheekbones, the way it makes his eyes shine. It’s been ten years and he still isn’t used to the sheer brilliance of Seokjin. It’s been ten years, and Namjoon’s sure that even ten years from now he won’t be used to Seokjin. Not just ten; twenty, thirty, fifty, a hundred years won’t help Namjoon’s case.
Seokjin reaches forward to tap on Namjoon’s arm, and Namjoon gets the hint. He stretches it so Seokjin can use it as a pillow. He loves the silky feeling of Seokjin’s hair on his arm, tickling his elbow just the slightest bit.
“Joon-ah.”
“Hyung?”
Seokjin’s eyes flicker, hesitating. “Do you think we’ll be okay?” Seokjin’s voice is small, quiet, scared. Namjoon hates it.
He takes a small, measured breath, letting it go slowly before answering. “We will be, hyung.” There are a lot of things Seokjin could be referring to, but Namjoon knows what Seokjin is talking about immediately.
“Are you sure?” asks Seokjin. He takes a pause, before rushing into flurried speech. “Because I don’t think I will be able to find a job anytime soon. Pretty soon we won’t be able to pay our bills anymore. You can’t support us both, you and I both know that. We still have to pay off our mortgage, and with no money coming in from my end we won’t be able to and—“
“Seokjin.” Namjoon interrupts Seokjin, and the rising tone of the elder’s voice breaks off into a quiet sob. He pulls Seokjin to his chest, his chin on Seokjin’s head. Seokjin buries his head in the crook of Namjoon’s neck, breathing shakily. Namjoon can feel Seokjin’s heartbeat through the fabric of their clothing, slightly erratic.
Namjoon lets them stay that way for a while, no sound but for their breaths. Once he thinks Seokjin’s calmed down, he presses a kiss to the top of his head and pulls away, still holding Seokjin by the shoulders.
“I—“
“Shhh,” says Namjoon. “Let me speak first, okay?” Seokjin nods, and Namjoon continues. “It was a huge layoff. It wasn’t just you that lost his job, and it certainly wasn’t your fault.”
Seokjin breathes out heavily, and Namjoon can tell he still doesn’t believe him. “Listen to me,” he says, cupping Seokjin’s face between his palms. He looks the other straight in the eyes as he speaks, gaze unwavering. “If we start running short on money, I’ll work harder. If I can’t, I’ll find another way to get us what we need. And if I can’t do that and we can’t pay our bills, we’ll live without electricity, huddling together for warmth in the winter. If we run short on food, we’ll ration it and I’ll give you all of mine when you have one of those episodes and wake up in the night all ravenous. When we run out of whatever’s left, we’ll even sell the house. But what we won’t do is give up, or leave each other. Because we will find a way out, hyung. We will as long as we’re together because I love you, and I’d do anything to keep you happy.”
Namjoon takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, his speech said. He opens his eyes carefully, anxious about Seokjin’s response, and finds the other smiling an impossibly soft smile, his eyes shining. Namjoon breaks out a smile too.
“I love you, Kim Namjoon.”
“I love you too, hyung.”
“No, you don’t understand,” says Seokjin. The pout on Seokjin’s face is impossibly attractive, and Namjoon wants to kiss it off his face. “I love you. Like—“ he struggles for the right words. “I love you,” he settles for weakly.
Namjoon laughs. “You might think I don’t understand, hyung, but I do. Because I love you the same way, if not even more.”
Seokjin deems it okay to leave it at that, and moves closer to Namjoon. He rests his head on Namjoon’s chest. Namjoon puts his arm around Seokjin. Despite what he’d said to reassure Seokjin, the other’s words had set his mind into motion, worrying about the bills and getting food on the table. He really doesn’t want to think about it at the moment, but his mind had been working against his every wish since his childhood, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Namjoon’s job as a high school teacher didn’t pay much, but it was solid considering he’d graduated just a few years back. It would be enough if they’d taken an apartment int he city, but they’d been stuck in the city their whole life
and wanted an escape. Namjoon certainly didn’t regret his decision regarding the house even if the mortgage would take time to pay off, but with Seokjin’s doubts he kept going over how he could lift them out of this rut.
Namjoon is pulled out of his thoughts by fingers running through his hair. He loves the slightly tingling sensation that hoes though his scalp as Seokjin’s fingers caress his hair. He closes his eyes, moving into the touch.
“I thought I was the one who needed reassuring,” said Seokjin. Namjoon could hear the amusement in his tone, even though the words came out soft.
“Hyung,” says Namjoon in protest. “I don’t need reassuring.”
“I can practically hear the gears turning in your head, Joon-ah.”
Namjoon huffs. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t think about it too much, Joon-ah.” Namjoon finds Seokjin’s gaze on him as he opens his eyes. He feels the older’s cold fingertips caressing his cheek.
“Okay.” He pulls Seokjin’s hand off his face and rubs it between his hands, trying to warm the cold fingers. He knows Seokjin gets cold easily, even though he loves sitting outside at night. He kisses the tips of each finger, full to bursting with love for the other. He can’t believe how lucky he is to even know Seokjin, much less have the privilege of calling him his for life.
“Let’s go inside, Joon-ah,” says Seokjin, standing up. His hand is still in between both of Namjoon’s. “It’s getting cold.”
Namjoon pulls himself up, taking his coat from where he’d discarded it earlier and wrapping it around Seokjin’s shoulders.
“Okay, hyung.”