Namjoon’s breaths come out haggard and rough, his hands clenching the scratchy material of his sweatpants as he slid down the length of the practice room mirror. Practice was long and arduous and he wanted to go home. He wanted to write, he wanted to sleep. His shirt stuck to his skin as the sweat gathered, his chest moving languidly as he struggled to even out his breathing.

Breath in. Breath out.

The practice room was silent, save heavy breathing and the occasional squeak of a sneaker. The choreographer’s scolding words rang loud in his ears and his head throbbed with anger and self disgust. The usually large room was starting to make him feel claustrophobic, like a caged animal.

Namjoon hated feeling so pitiful.

From the corner of his eye Namjoon could see Seokjin making his way over and he sharply inhaled.  His eyelids fluttered down as clammy hands wrapped themselves around his neck, a smooth thumb caressing his jaw. Namjoon could only hum in appreciation as his mind shut down.

“Let’s go home.”

Seokjin’s words were soft and comforting, and Namjoon wanted to wrap himself in them.

The walk back to the dorms was always noisy, something Namjoon both loathed and appreciated. The youngest were always the loudest- Jimin and Taehyung always bouncing mindlessly around as Jungkook looked on in mild confusion before eventually joining them. Hoseok had his arm slung around Yoongi’s shoulders as they spoke about everything and nothing at all. Jokes were tossed rapidly and the group’s laughter was growing louder by the minute. This was always a time to mellow out and find peace after a particularly draining day.

Seokjin had his arm wrapped around Namjoon’s waist and the rapper could only bob his head along and laugh occasionally at what he was saying. His gaze was everywhere: cheekbones, nose, eyes, Seokjin.

Namjoon couldn’t help but feel mentally weak. He pushed himself too hard for the sake of his career. He didn’t know his boundaries. He didn’t want to know his boundaries. Namjoon wanted to broadcast his music to the world and if he had to suffer to do it then so be it.

While Seokjin was bad at dancing, he wasn’t as bad as Namjoon. Namjoon was a rapper, and he was damn good at it. He was good at writing lyrics and producing. Dancing was not one of his talents. He couldn’t pull off moves like Hoseok. His style wasn’t y like Jimin. He wasn’t a perfect performer like Jungkook.

It was different from what he built for himself in the underground scene. He only needed his music to rely on. He wasn’t expected to have incredibly good looks and unique choreography. It wasn’t necessary.

It was more often than not that he would be scolded and drag down the rest of the team. He tried to not let it get to him, but sometimes it was too damn hard. He wanted to cry and punch the mirror and curl up in a protective ball where scrutiny wasn’t welcome.

 But he couldn’t. He had to be strong, not only for himself but for s. He tried his hardest but sometimes his frustrations reached a boiling point. He didn’t care if he perfected the dance; he just wanted to do enough so that he wasn’t a burden. The fact that he was able to affect the entire group with his lack of skill was enough to bring down his mood.  

Namjoon never snapped. He merely receded.

Then there was Seokjin.

Namjoon remembers the first time the older man came to him after the mental exhaustion took over. He remembers light kisses, feather touches, and whispers of comfort. He remembers heated gazes and unfiltered emotions.

He remembers Seokjin, Seokjin, Seokjin.

As the group returned to the dorm Seokjin would calmly tug Namjoon in to his room, soft fingers curling around a cold wrist. The others were used to this routine already. They didn’t care what was going on behind closed doors as long as their leader was happy and healthy. Seokjin was good for him- good for the team.

Thoughts of how hungry they were or how desperately they needed to shower never crossed Namjoon’s mind. He needed Seokjin.

As soon as the door was shut and locked, Namjoon would fluidly tug Seokjin in to a tight hug. Eventually hugs would evolve in to light pecks trailing along Seokjin’s collarbone and neck and jaw. Soft whispers of regret and sorrow left Namjoon’s lips between touches and Seokjin would only frown.

 “Namjoon.” His arms found themselves draped loosely around Namjoon’s neck again, fingers massaging the tight muscles of his shoulders.

“Seokjin.” A smile grew on the older man’s face as Namjoon pressed a kiss hard against his lips. Namjoon’s hands would find themselves shamelessly underneath Seokjin’s shirt, fingers drawing circles around the soft skin of his stomach.

He eventually pulled away and ran a thumb against Seokjin’s lips, his gaze heavy and full of overwhelming emotion. Seokjin could only sigh and tighten his hold around Namjoon’s neck.

Namjoon always found him prettiest like this. Lips red and plump from feverish kisses, hair disheveled, eyes half lidded.

Raw.

Namjoon once compared Seokjin to the ocean. Full of beauty and raw, effortless grace that stunned the majority. But still full of such merciless power that one would have to be stupid to go against him. Seokjin merely laughed and wrapped his arms around his waist, asking if that made Namjoon submarine. Aware of the dangers of the ocean, but willing to risk it all just to find out more.

Namjoon couldn’t have agreed more.

They found themselves in bed, wrapped in each other, kisses soft and casual compared to before. Seokjin ran his fingers against the small of Namjoon’s back and pressed his body closer. Namjoon could practically feel the stress leaking away with every kiss pressed on his skin.

“Thank you.” Seokjin laughed and nuzzled his nose in to the heat of Namjoon’s neck.

“Don't be thankful. We need you. I need you.” Namjoon shut his eyes and a simple smile graced his lips.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I’d be crazy if I didn’t love you back.”

"I know."

Namjoon remembers the first time he understood that Seokjin was everything he needed to make him realize that, yes, he was important and, yes, it was okay to mess up sometimes. He remembers the rush of appreciation. He remembers the piercing recognition of love.

He remembers Seokjin, Seokjin, Seokjin.