Work Text:
Two A.M.
Two A.M. It is the time when the moon is heavy in the sky and the stars are winking down on the sleeping city. The city lights blink back up in return, specks against the black canvas that is the night sky.
Two A.M. It is the time when the mother finally gets her fussy baby to sleep, giving the infant a gentle kiss on her smooth forehead as she gurgles to dreamland. The mother finally collapses into bed with her partner, lacing their fingers together and falling asleep with a satisfied smile.
Two A.M. It is the time when college students are stumbling home from the clubs, bumping into each other and laughing, alcohol racing through their sluggish systems. Their hands grab onto one another for stability. He smiles weakly at his pretty friend before tripping over his feet nearly toppling them both to the asphalt. Laughter bubbles from them and they eventually make it back to his nearby apartment and they both fall asleep on the too-small sofa.
Two A.M. It is the time when Jeon Jungkook is tirelessly practicing in the studio, feet stepping and turning with every note, hands dragging down his frame and clutching at suggestive places. He wipes the sweat off his brows and considers the mirror, making eye contact with Park Jimin. He blinks, tilts his head before turning and beaming at the new arrival. His eyes brighten when he spots what Jimin brings him.
Two A.M. It is the time when Park Jimin wanders in from the vocal studio, throat sore, a tired smile pulling at his lips. He's clutching two bottles, one in each hand, and he hands one to the sweaty maknae. Jungkook smiles, gestures for Jimin to come closer. They drink together, letting the cool water settle through them as they slump to the floor, legs playfully knocking into one another. They exhale and inhale in tired unison, out of breath in different ways but reveling in the same exhaustion. Jimin's head lolls onto Jungkook's shoulder and it doesn't take long for both their breaths to even out.
Two A.M. It is the time when Kim Taehyung stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he tries to maneuver the cabinets with this eyes half-shut. He bangs one too many times into corners in his bleary attempt to find a snack bar and Jung Hoseok wanders in from the living room. Hoseok opens a cabinet and hands the drowsy Taehyung a bar. Beaming, Taehyung snaps it in two and hands half to the older male.
Two A.M. It is the time when Jung Hoseok is scrolling through his phone, alone, in the living room instead of sleeping. He's looking through Twitter, Naver, their fancafe, chuckling at the exaggerated comments and huffing when he reads bitter asides. A warm fondness washes over him as he reads praises and affection from their fans and it grows when he hears a certain vocalist bumping his way through the kitchen in search for a snack. They finish their snack and Hoseok nudges Taehyung back to their shared room to get some sleep.
Two A.M. It is the time when Kim Namjoon is squinting at his computer screen, eyes flicking between what's on the monitor and what's scratched out on his notes. He yawns, sighs, scratches his side, slumps in his seat. He rolls his neck and glances out his slightly ajar studio door. He can see there are dim lights spilling into the corridor, and his lips twitch into a smile when he realizes he's not the only late nighter. The hour is late and he blinks at the clock. He’s been at the studio for a few long hours. He yawns again, exhaustion catching up to him, and decides to nap in his chair against his better judgment.
Two A.M. It is the time when Min Yoongi is in the zone. When his music pauses, he can hear Namjoon's snores from down the hall. He smiles before rolling his chair to the door and closing it gently to block out the sound. His studio is alight with the soft glow of lamps and the harsh brightness of his computer screens. His eyes ache but he clicks play again, listening. He plays a sample of Seokjin's voice, then Jimin's. He contemplates between the two vocalists, one with a slightly different cadence to his voice. Bridges were held pretty well by Seokjin's voice and he makes a note on the paper.
His phone vibrates.
Two A.M. It is the time when Kim Seokjin sits quietly in his shared bedroom, notebook on his lap and phone in his hand. Music spills from the phone's speakers, quiet enough so it wouldn't be heard outside the room but loud enough to create an atmosphere only people awake at two A.M. would understand. It's a strange feeling, being awake when the rest of city is asleep to the soundtrack of their snores. The hubbub he hears in the day lulls to a burble. He feels like he’s the only soul awake, but he knows there’s another one burning the midnight oil. He stretches out his legs, toe nudging one of Yoongi's Kumamon dolls. Their beds are still pushed together but Seokjin couldn't be bothered to push them apart again. Too much work.
(It was only him who even pushed the beds together, Yoongi citing that he was in charge of setting up the movie.)
He's tired but not in a sleepy way. It’s that odd exhaustion where ideas are born in the haze, where he dwells through flitting words and winding melodies. His mind is still racing, and he grapples for his pen again to thread together some verses together. He's getting better at his songwriting skills. At two A.M., it's the odd hour where peace settles over him - the city isn't squawking at him, the members aren't playfully bickering each other, the managers aren't chattering in the distance. It's just Seokjin, his thoughts, and Yoongi's music. The songs shuffles, and Dead Leaves plays next. He casts a lazy thought for his roommate, eyes drifting to the empty half of the bed. Scooping up his phone, Seokjin dials.
"Hyung?"
"Oh, you picked up," Seokjin teases. "Bighit's Min Yoongi." He chuckles at Yoongi's exasperated huff at the other end of the line.
"I didn't pick up one time for a V-Live," complains his roommate, and Seokjin can hear the creak of his chair in the background. He can picture Yoongi leaning back, arching his back from being hunched over for hours. "What are you calling for?"
"Can't I just call?"
"No."
"So meeean, Yoongi-chi." Seokjin pouts. There's an amused puff now. "I was just checking up on you. Did you pee in the last few hours or have you been sitting there the whole time?"
"Who just... asks if they've peed yet," Yoongi retorts. "And for your information, I did."
"Good, good, don't want my dear producer's bladder to pop just because he was busy working and forgot to pee. Or eat. Or sleep." Seokjin emphasizes the last word. "It's two A.M., Yoongi."
"I know."
"Are you coming home soon?"
At his studio, Yoongi twists in his squeaky seat, stretching out the kinks in his back as he checks the wall clock. 2:14 am.
"That's a no, huh?" Seokjin chuckles, and Yoongi grumbles at his roommate's knowing tone. "No worries - I know it's the time you work best at. I understand."
There's shuffling from the other end of the line, and Yoongi can hear the soft crinkling of paper. "Hyung, are you writing something?"
"Oh, yes. Lyrics. Nothing too special though." A shy laugh followed by more rustling that sounds like a notebook being shut. "I might just play some games for a bit until you come back."
"Don't stay up too late, hyung," Yoongi replies, and there's an “aww” from Seokjin.
"Is that concern I hear, my Yoongi-chiiii?" The other male drags out the last syllable, and Yoongi heaves a long-suffering sigh. He grins to himself.
"Did you eat today?" he says instead, bypassing the teasing.
"Of course. Did you?"
"Namjoon brought me some kimbap."
"Aish, you need to eat more than that," sighs Seokjin. He reaches out and grabs the Kumamon, plunking it on his lap and playing with its soft ears. "Come home soon, okay?"
"I'm going to work for a little more," Yoongi says, and there's a soft tell-tale creak that alerts Seokjin that he's leaning back towards his computer.
Min Yoongi. Producer. Rapper. Roommate.
Seokjin smiles, fingers curling around his phone, his other hand absentmindedly rubbing the Kumamon's head. "As expected of Min Suga," he says, and even he can hear the fondness in his voice. Unsurprisingly, Yoongi makes a soft spluttering noise. "I'll see you soon."
"Yes. Goodnight, Seokjin-hyung."
"Goodnight, Yoongi-chi."
Seokjin hangs up, letting the phone slip from his fingers and plop onto the bed with a soft thud. A moment later, a muted buzz vibrates against his leg and he lifts his phone to see a single message from Yoongi.
Bighit Min Yoongi [2:23 A.M.]: <3
Beaming, he sends back a smattering of emojis ranging from hearts to flowers to sushi. Yoongi sends back a single red X and Seokjin just laughs at the blunt response before turning on the music again. Dead Leaves resumes, and Seokjin flips open his notebook again.
The words are coming along better now.
---
Four A.M.
Four A.M., and the city is even quieter now. A sleepy Namjoon rustled back to the dorm at three AM, followed shortly by Jimin and Jungkook. Seokjin dozes, but perks when he hears the bedroom door open.
The lights blaze on and Seokjin curses.
"Fuck," he says, squinting. Yoongi freezes, hand still on the switch.
"Shit, Seokjin-hyung," whispers the other male, hitting the switch again. Their room plunges back into darkness, and Seokjin gropes for the bedside lamp. The room is casted in a dim golden glow that's easier on Seokjin's eyes and he flops back against his pillow. "Sorry, hyung. I forgot."
"Hurry up and change," Seokjin complains, and sticks his tongue out when he sees the smirk on Yoongi's face. "Aren't you sleepy?"
"Mhmm." It doesn't take long for Yoongi to exchange his jeans and hoodies for some loose boxers. He looks at his sleeping shirt, then at Seokjin, then at their beds still pushed together. He leaves the shirt.
After quickly brushing his teeth, Yoongi slips into bed. Seokjin is on his side, scrolling on his phone. He's curled around Yoongi's Kumamon. Before he can get a glimpse, Seokjin locks his phone and pushes it back under his pillow. He tosses away the Kumamon now that Yoongi’s back.
"Soon, huh?" Seokjin teases, peeking up at Yoongi through his dark lashes.
"Time isn't real," he retorts, reaching out and turning off the lamp.
"Oh, don't go all Namjoon on me." But Seokjin is smiling, bright even in the darkness of their room. Their curtains are drawn, but the moon's insistent glow still manages to illuminate the interior just enough for Yoongi to see Seokjin yawn, eyelashes fluttering against his soft cheeks.
"You didn't have to wait," says Yoongi, pulling the blankets so it covers them both. He can already feel Seokjin's arm reach out and wind around his waist, warm and heavy against his side.
"Wanted to," Seokjin mumbles, face pressed into his pillow as he blinks heavy lids at Yoongi. "I don't mind."
Yoongi hums at this. He can feel sleep pulling at him faster now that he's in bed, Seokjin's warmth anchoring him in place. It’s warm. It’s cozy. It’s the home that Seokjin beckoned him with a couple of hours earlier. It’s the home Yoongi looks forward to every night – a sleepy, albeit whiny, Seokjin with his sleep-soft face and pouting lips that are irresistible.
Instead of responding, he moves and quickly kisses Seokjin, a soft exchange of breaths, before pulling back.
Seokjin smiles in understanding. They always understood each other. Words were always a bit excessive at times, which is an ironically amusing concept considering they are idols who make their livings with words. At the same, it's nice to not have to rely on words. It makes four ams even more intimate. More tender. Yoongi shifts until he can find Seokjin's other hand and he laces their fingers together. His cooler palm presses against Seokjin’s warmer one.
He squeezes.
Seokjin squeezes back.