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Yoongi’s head snaps up and he pulls his headphones off as he hears his apartment door swing open, slamming into the opposite wall.
He moves slowly towards the living room, cautiously peeking around the corner of the hallway to look for the culprit. He finds someone, but lowers his guard as he sees who.
In the middle of his living room stands Namjoon, looking hammered and disgusting. Yoongi could never stand Namjoon drunk. Mostly because Namjoon only gets drunk when something bad happens, and it fucking hurts to see Namjoon in pain. Namjoon doesn’t try to move from his spot, but he still stumbles in his spot.
“Did you drink again, Namjoon?” Namjoon seems surprised to hear another voice. He looks up, and finally notices the other’s presence. Namjoon looks like shit. Namjoon looks like shit, but Young’s heart still flutters when Namjoon’s eyes meet his.
“No, hyung.” Namjoon hiccups and he stumbles, falling forward, arms flailing in a futile attempt to straighten himself. Young rushes forward and gets there just in time to catch him. The first thing he registers is the reek of alcohol. Namjoon leans heavily on Yoongi, and every part of his body that’s in contact with Namjoon’s feels like it’s on fire. The room suddenly feels a lot stuffier than before.
“You’re drunk, Namjoon.” Yoongi sighs, his anger fizzling out. He could never manage to stay mad at Namjoon for long. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Yoongi sits Namjoon down at the dining table, then enters the kitchen. As he opens the cupboard, Namjoon calls out to him. “What are you doing, hyung?” His speech is slurred. Yoongi looks over the counter to find Namjoon slumped on the table, his long fingers tapping to a beat that likely only he can hear.
Yoongi sets down the glass in front of Namjoon, grabbing the jug and pouring the glass full to the brim with water. “Drink.” His tone comes out less harsh than he’d like.
Namjoon straightens, reaching for the glass and missing by a long shot. “Whoops,” he says, reaching for it again. Yoongi watches him for a second, flailing about, then pushes the glass into his grasp. Yoongi wonders if he’ll be able to drink it. Luckily, the glass reaches his mouth on his first try and he downs the water in one shot. Only a little bit dribbles down his chin.
Yoongi takes a seat next to Namjoon, rubbing his face. He’s dead tired and certainly not in the mood to entertain a drunken Namjoon, but he can’t take the chance of sending him away and risking finding him dead in a ditch somewhere the next morning.
Yoongi feels Namjoon’s gaze on him, tiny pinpricks in the back of his neck. He lifts his head and finds Namjoon looking at him straight in the eyes, his gaze unwavering. For a second Namjoon looks completely sober, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the haziness in his eyes.
“Why did you drink, Namjoon?” he asks. The question tumbles out of his mouth, and he regrets asking immediately.
“What?” asks Namjoon, his voice too loud for the distance between them.
“Nothing, Namjoon,” Yoongi says as he shakes his head.
“Oh,” says Namjoon in realization, his eyes lighting up as he sits up straight. “Guess what?” There’s a sloppy, lopsided grin on his face. Yoongi feels attacked.
Yoongi waits for a moment, but Namjoon’s expectant gaze doesn’t go away. “What?” he asks.
“You’re supposed to guess, hyung,” he whines. Drunk Namjoon is the complete opposite of Sober Namjoon, in the sense that he’s cute as fuck and Yoongi can’t take it.
He sighs. “Did you meet up with Hoseok?” he asks.
Namjoon shakes his head vigorously. Yoongi feels warm and fuzzy watching Namjoon. He wasn’t supposed to find this display endearing, but he did. Because he’s stupidly in love. “Wrong answer,” says Namjoon, as if he feels Yoongi didn’t understand the shaking of his head. Yoongi doesn’t guess again, and Namjoon frowns. “Hyung,” he whines.
“Goddamnit, Namjoon just tell me,” says Yoongi, but the usual harshness behind his voice is gone. Luckily, Namjoon is too drunk to notice the hearts popping up around his head.
“I saw Seokjin hyung today.”
There goes the warm and fuzzy feeling, and Yoongi feels like his heart has been stabbed through. He suddenly grows cold, very cold.
“Oh,” says Namjoon, this time looking troubled. “But I saw someone else with him. I think they were kissing.” Namjoon is drunk and can’t think straight, but Yoongi still sees the hurt clear in his eyes. He feels icy cold, ugly feelings of jealousy and hatred that come up whenever Seokjin is mentioned clouding his thoughts.
Seokjin was Namjoon’s boyfriend of two years, until about seven months ago. Yoongi had thought they were in love, as everyone had, so he ignored the crush that had been growing in him since he’d been fourteen to the best of his abilities in favour of being happy for the couple. It turned out that Yoongi and everyone else had been wrong, and once their relationship had dwindled down until it was completely one-sided, Seokjin had broken it off. He’d practically killed Namjoon in the process.
Yoongi had hated Seokjin ever since. Hated him for breaking Namjoon, leaving him a wreck. Hated him for not trying harder, hated him for leaving without a second glance.
What Yoongi doesn’t admit to himself is that even before they’d broken it off, back when they’d both been starry-eyed for each other, a small part of him had hated Seokjin with all his might for being the object of Namjoon’s affections. Hated him for so easily usurping the spot Yoongi had wanted so bad, had worked so hard to get towards. Hated him for simply existing.
Yoongi snaps back to reality when he sees Namjoon’s head drooping, about to hit the table. Yoongi pulls him back sharply, and his head lolls backwards. His eyelids are half closed, and dropping even further. “Namjoon, let’s go to the bedroom,” says Yoongi, struggling to pull back the chair and get Namjoon standing. He decides to take Namjoon to his room and then take the couch himself.
He manages to get Namjoon on his feet, leaning against Yoongi’s frame. His hand is on Namjoon’s bicep. Yoongi’s body temperature seems to have gone up about a hundred degrees. It was the heating, of course. Definitely the heating.
He finally gets Namjoon to his bedroom. He’d dragged him along most of the way, and Namjoon had taken a few helpful steps in between. He lays Namjoon down carefully on his bed, pulling the sheets up over him. He seems to fall asleep almost immediately, his breathing softening.
He sits down across from Namjoon, catching his breath. Yoongi studies Namjoon’s features, softened by sleep. His hair fans across Yoongi’s pillow. Namjoon looks so beautiful, and even though Yoongi’s known this for twenty five years it suddenly strikes him, hard. He feels like he can’t breathe.
He turns away from Namjoon in an attempt to escape, but he hears rustling of the covers and turns around. “Hyung?” says Namjoon. He barely cracks open his eyes.
“Yeah, Namjoon?”
“Thank you hyung,” he says. “I love you.”
Yoongi swallows, his throat suddenly dry. Namjoon just said that he loved Yoongi, something he’d been desperately waiting to hear for years, but his heart feels heavy. Namjoon will never love Yoongi the way Yoongi loves him, and the realization is not an easy one.
“I love you too, Joon-ah.” His voice comes out bitter, cracked.