Namjoon locks the door to his tiny, dingy, little record shop with a firm twist of his key.  There’s a satisfying click as the dead-bolt slides into place, pairing the image of security with the sound of his door locking.  Namjoon smiles to himself before wondering what he should do next.

Normally, Namjoon would make a beeline for home, but today, Namjoon is feeling particularly extravagant.  There’s an extra spring in his step for no real reason, and that’s completely fine with him.  He pauses for a moment staring at his reflection in the window of the store.  He doesn’t give it much thought other than he should change his hair color, perhaps pink would be nice.  He'll have to tell Jimin and buy the dye of course, but he's feeling pink.

He ends up at a bar that’s hidden in an alley of an alley.  It’s fairly quiet, and there are a few people in various places.  It surprises him to find a very familiar face at the end of the bar, peering into an empty glass.

He takes a seat next to Seokjin, ignoring the somersaults that his stomach is doing.  This is the first time he has seen Seokjin without any specific purpose.

“Drowning your sorrows?” Namjoon says, immediately wishing he could punch himself in the face because it’s horrible.

Seokjin looks at him, eyes flickering in recognition, “How very intuitive of you, Namjoon.”  A bittersweet smile plays on his lips as he writes invisible characters on the polish wood of the bar.  There’s something about the way that Seokjin is holding himself, or rather, the way he isn’t.  Although the extent of their relationship isn’t very vast, Namjoon knows that something is actually bothering Seokjin.  It’s upsetting to Namjoon.

Namjoon waves the bartender down, quietly requesting two more of whatever Seokjin is having.  Seokjin chuckles quietly, “You’re buying me a drink?”

Namjoon takes a breath, trying to come up with a valid excuse for buying a man he’s interested in a drink.  The lie comes quickly, “It’s to thank you for your patronage.”  He realizes that he could’ve said because Seokjin looks like he needs it, but it doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it.

Two vodka sodas appear in front of them on top of small, square cocktail napkins.  Seokjin takes his, immediately taking a big gulp, “What a depressing rewards program.”  His words are airy but playfully sad.

Namjoon takes a sip, frowning because alcohol is still not his thing; manliness be damned, daiquiris are the only things that mask the horrid taste of booze.  Seokjin glances at Namjoon’s puckered up face, quietly giggling, “Maybe I should be buying you a drink.”

Namjoon smacks his lips, shaking his head, “That’s not necessary.”  He sets his drink down, sliding it away, “I should have known this wouldn’t be my taste.  It’s not very colorful.”

Seokjin laughs loudly this time, and Namjoon quite likes it.  Seokjin smiles at him, taking a drink from his own glass, “You’re telling me that a man with a eyebrow piercing prefers fruity cocktails?”  Seokjin seems very amused.

“You haven’t seen my tattoos.  Also, way to forget my tongue.”  Namjoon sticks out his tongue to show off the silver ball of his piercing before pulling it back in, “I spent too time talking with a lisp for you not to notice.”

Seokjin bites his lip, leaning toward Namjoon, “Tattoos?  As in multiple?” Namjoon swallows dryly; the proximity of Seokjin and his apparent interest in tattoos  Seokjin leans back, “You’re not what you appear to be.”

Namjoon scratches his ear, blushing for no other reason than Seokjin’s interest in him, “Is anyone what they appear to be?  Book covers are great and all, but without doing any reading you often draw the wrong conclusion.”

Seokjin stares at him, processing his words before getting up from his seat.  He pulls out his wallet, placing enough money on the bar to cover all of the drinks, including the ones Namjoon is intending to pay for.  He looks at Namjoon, offering one last smile, “This is for the advice.  Plus, it’s unfair that you have to pay for a drink that you’re not going to finish.  Have a nice night, Namjoon.”

Seokjin pats his shoulder before walking away.  Namjoon can’t help but watch as he leaves.  He doesn’t feel like he has offered any real advice, but he’ll accept it as a show of Seokjin’s trust in his words.

Namjoon leaves the bar, walking home and thinking about the progression in his relationship with Seokjin. 

He arrives at his front door to a surprise in the form of Jung Hoseok.  Hoseok is slumped over resting his head on his knees with a small bag next to him.  His back is pressed against the door, and Namjoon has a very strong sense of why he’s there and the sneaking suspicion that Hoseok is asleep.  He nudges Hoseok lightly with his foot.

When that doesn’t rouse him, Namjoon knees his shoulder, causing the balled-up Hoseok to fall over.  Hoseok groans, springing back to an upright position.  He looks around, finally seeing Namjoon.  He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

Namjoon sighs, “Just come in.”

Hoseok bolts to his feet as Namjoon unlocks the front door.  Hoseok follows him in quietly.  Namjoon closes the door behind Hoseok, “You know where the couch is.”

Hoseok walks into the living room, taking a seat, “Aren’t you going to ask?”

Namjoon sighs, looking at Hoseok, “I know that somehow we’re at the top of your friends-to-go-to-in-case-of-spousal-dispute list.  How long do you need to crash on the couch?”

“Just until after the competition.” Hoseok quietly admits. “Hopefully.”

Namjoon presses his lips together, “Communication failed then?”

Hoseok nods, keeping his eyes trained on the coffee table.  Namjoon sighs, “Let’s eat.”

___

Jimin wakes up to the smell of bacon, which is disquieting.  He squints at the clock; the numbers on the clock tell him that Jungkook isn’t awake yet.  Namjoon is the only one who would be awake.  Jimin groans, burying his face into his pillows.

He kicks the covers off in frustration, finally rolling out of bed and onto the floor.  He pushes himself off of the cold ground, staggering towards to kitchen to get Namjoon away from the stove. He doesn't want the fire alarm to go off again.  He looks through bleary eyes, seeing Namjoon sitting at the table.  He squints, blinking rapidly at Namjoon’s bed-head.

It’s confusing because if Namjoon is at the table, then who on earth is operating the stove.  He sees a vaguely familiar back in the kitchen, sliding freshly cook bacon and eggs onto a plate with neatly cut toast.  The person turns around, jumping slightly at the sight of Jimin and slapping a hand over his heart, “Oh my goodness, you scared me.”

Hoseok is in his kitchen.  Jimin yawns as Hoseok hands him the plate without explaining his presence.  Jimin takes a seat at the table, eyes trained on Namjoon to answer his question.

Namjoon swallows audibly, shifting in his seat, “Hoseok is crashing here for the time being.”

Jimin picks up the fork that is laid on his placemat, using it to shovel some of the egg into his mouth.  Namjoon speaks again, “I’m dyeing my hair today.”

Jimin speaks through the food in his mouth, “What color?”

“Pink.” He responds just as Jimin picks up some bacon with his fingers, gingerly handling it to minimize the amount of grease that will get on him.  He munches happily, stuffing some of the not-burnt toast into his mouth as well.

“Hoseok?” Jimin calls out, prompting the person in question to turn around with a strip of bacon sticking out of his mouth.  “You can stay as long as you need.” Jimin turns to Namjoon, “Does Jungkook know?”

Namjoon nods, “He came back from practicing on his own to find Hoseok on the couch.  He took it well all things considered.”

Hoseok joins them at the table, and they eat together.  It’s weird but rather pleasant in Jimin’s opinion.  He does have to do some math in his head to figure out why Hoseok needs to sleep on their couch without asking Hoseok directly. When he draws his conclusion, it doesn’t make him much happier.  Hoseok has been married for maybe three months and their relationship is already on the rocks.  Jimin doesn’t know how it worked out this way because they were in love, like really in love with each other.

Once Jimin finishes, he pushes away from the table, taking his empty plate to sink and setting it there.  He has to get dressed for work.

Jimin walks into Yoongi’s house with the assumption that he’s prepared for the day.  He’s completely ready to dust places that haven’t been left alone long enough to gather any in a noticeable manner.  He’ll vacuum clean carpet without missing a beat.

He doesn’t even get past the living room because Yoongi is on the couch.  Jimin pauses incredibly confused. Normally Yoongi would be in the safety of one of the prohibited rooms.  Jimin takes a tentative step forward, peering at Yoongi from across the living room like it’s going to help.  He wonders why Yoongi would fall asleep in the living room because he has very little doubt that behind one of those doors is a nice and comfy king-size bed.

Yoongi whimpers, and Jimin is by his side so fast that he doesn’t remember moving.  Jimin kneels next Yoongi, quickly debating whether or not to touch Yoongi’s forehead.  Yoongi lets out another noise, and Jimin slides his fingers under Yoongi’s damp bangs.  Yoongi is, for lack of a better word, burning up, and Jimin tries to figure out what to do first. Jimin has never had to take care of a sick person before.   He stands up, pacing back and forth as he makes a mental list.  Blankets, a thermometer, a damp washcloth to be draped over Yoongi’s head, soup of some sort, and maybe a fever reducer are all on his list.

The first thing that Jimin does is try to find a blanket.  Apparently, Yoongi has never heard of keeping a throw blanket somewhere in the living room.  Jimin walks in circles, checking everywhere available to him until he finds himself looking between the two forbidden doors.

One of these is Yoongi’s bedroom.  Jimin doesn’t even want to think about the other room, so he has to figure out which one is which.  He thinks back on when he’s seen a pajama-clad Yoongi come out of one of the rooms.  He picks the door on the left, hoping that he’ll find a blanket and be able to keep his job.

He turns the knob, pushing forward and stepping into Yoongi’s bedroom.  Oddly enough, everything about Yoongi’s room is neat.  His bed is made; there are no clothes on the floor.  He doesn’t celebrate his small victory, opting to make a beeline for the neatly folded blanket on Yoongi’s king-size bed.  (Jimin internally high-fives himself for correctly guessing the size of Yoongi’s bed.)

Jimin quickly leaves, quietly closing the door behind him.  He returns to Yoongi who hasn’t moved.  He drapes the blanket over Yoongi before running into the bathroom.  He grabs a washcloth, running it under cold water and wringing it out.  He returns to Yoongi’s side, brushing the damp hair off of his forehead and placing the folded washcloth on burning skin.

He returns to the bathroom, rummaging around to find an electronic thermometer.  He turns it on, returning to Yoongi.  Jimin awkwardly tries to figure out a way to convince Yoongi to open his mouth.  “Yoongi?”

Yoongi groans, and Jimin his lips, “Yoongi, I need to take your temperature.  Please open your mouth.”

Yoongi’s lips part just enough for Jimin to stick the thermometer in.  Jimin clicks the button on the side and waits for the electronic beep to tell him that it’s finished measuring Yoongi temperature.  It beeps, and Jimin pulls it from Yoongi’s lips.  He reads the temperature.  It’s not the worst fever, certainly not life threatening enough to call an ambulance.  Jimin is still going to search for ibuprofen or acetaminophen to reduce Yoongi’s fever.

Jimin sighs, walking into Yoongi’s kitchen, opening various cabinets until he’s found Yoongi’s pills and vitamins.  Jimin sees a bottle of ibuprofen next to a prescription that he chooses to ignore because that would be invading Yoongi’s privacy.  He pours a glass of water to bring back to Yoongi with a pill for Yoongi to swallow.

He kneels next to Yoongi again, setting the water on the coffee table.  He gently worms his hand under Yoongi’s head, propping him up enough to allow the water and medicine to go down smoothly.  Jimin pushes the ibuprofen past Yoongi’s lips, bringing the glass to Yoongi’s mouth.  Although some of the water runs down Yoongi’s neck, Jimin hears him swallow painfully.

Jimin rests Yoongi’s head beneath one of Yoongi’s throw pillows,  using a tissue to dry off the run off from Yoongi’s water.  Jimin walks back to the kitchen, pulling a pot out.  A belated, muted squeal escapes Jimin from touching Yoongi’s lip.  He immediately slaps himself in the face.  He’s a terrible person if he’s taking advantage of Yoongi’s state.

Jimin pulls together ingredients for porridge to give Yoongi once he’s awake.  Jimin wonders if he’ll get in trouble for taking care of Yoongi instead of his housekeeping duties.

Jimin quietly makes the porridge, hoping that it will taste good enough.  When he finishes, he ladles it into a bowl and carries it out to Yoongi.  He gently nudges Yoongi, causing the latter to move.  There’s a tired groan as Yoongi moves into sitting position.

Jimin hands the bowl and spoon to Yoongi, advising him, “Be careful.  It’s hot.”

Yoongi nods, accepting the porridge.  He eats it spoon by spoon, blowing it on thoroughly before eating it.  His movements are more labored than usual, but Jimin sits in the armchair next to him, monitoring him.  Yoongi turns to him, dipping his head, “Thanks.”  His voice is hoarse and quiet.

“I’m a bit behind on the housework.” Jimin confesses, immediately regretting it because it sounds like he doesn’t care about Yoongi at all.

Yoongi shifts in his seat, moving the blanket aside, “Do I look terrible?”

Jimin bites his lips, “I really wouldn’t know.”

Yoongi takes a sip of water, “How do you mean?”

Jimin sighs, awkwardly rubbing his neck, “I’m face-blind.”

There’s an awkward pause that seems to go on forever until Yoongi speaks, “I’m going to need a bit of elaboration on that.”

“I can’t recognize faces, and I have a particularly hard time with expressions as well…” Jimin trails off, hoping that he doesn’t have to explain further.

“You recognize me though?” Yoongi seems to comprehend the information he has been given.

“Of course,” Jimin smiles, “I can recognize people after several encounters.  It’s mostly based on voice, body size, hair and sometimes clothes, but hair changes and wardrobe is inconsistent.”

Yoongi nods, setting his bowl aside, “You can’t tell if I’m making faces at you?”

Jimin shakes his head.  “Do you mind if I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.” Yoongi murmurs.

“Yoongi, what do I look like?”  Jimin leans forward, catching his lower lip between his teeth.  He’s never had the nerve to ask someone before.  Namjoon and Jungkook would work around the question, and his mother would tell him he's handsome either way.

Yoongi takes a moment, thinking it over, “Like you.”  He states it simply, as if it’s the obvious answer.  Jimin frowns, making Yoongi laugh, “If it worries you so much, you would be considered attractive by any number of people.”

Jimin can feel the heat of blush warming his cheeks.  “Thank you.”

“Thanks for taking care of me.” Yoongi whispers.

“Any time.”

___

Jungkook thumbs through his past text exchanges with Taehyung.  They don’t really hold any weight, but they make Jungkook smile.  Taehyung makes Jungkook smile, period.

Jungkook mulls over his options.  He could send Taehyung the address for the competition, or he could not.  Coming to terms with being in like with Taehyung has been a bit rough for Jungkook.  The butterflies in his stomach have never really taken into account the outcome of whom they choose.

Taehyung is dorky and sweet, and so what if he doesn’t have the best sense of boundaries.  He always finds a way to cheer Jungkook up or make him laugh so hard that he cries.  He’s straightforward and really kind.  Jungkook could list endless things that he likes about Taehyung, but it all boils down to the fact that if Taehyung doesn’t like him in the same way that Jungkook likes him it will shatter Jungkook.

It might be the worst that ever happens if Taehyung rejects him.  Jungkook has spent basically the entire time pining after him, and he doesn’t know how to confess without causing a rift.

He types the competition address into the message bar, chewing on his lip.   He groans, leaving his room and walking into the living room where Hoseok is watching television.  Jungkook sits down next to Hoseok, refocusing on the unsent address.

Hoseok glances at him sideways.  He shifts, turning toward Jungkook, “What ails you, young one?”

“I like him.” Jungkook mutters lifelessly.

Hoseok clicks his tongue, “The woes of being love, or I guess in your case, being in like.”

“I don’t want to lose him.” Jungkook whispers.

Hoseok takes Jungkook’s phone out of his hand, “Are you going to confess to him at the competition?”

“I don’t know.” Jungkook answers.

Hoseok presses his finger on the send button, making Jungkook panic before Hoseok gently pushes him back, “Tell him how you feel or don’t.  It’s up to you.  You don’t need tell him now.  If you can, let it come naturally.  As much as unrequited love , you need to figure out how he can fit into your life as a friend.” Hoseok finishes smoothly.

Jungkook can only stare at his former crush in awe.  Hoseok snorts, “This is how Namjoon must feel, giving people token advice that they don’t ask for.”

“Is that what you did with Hyorin?” Jungkook asks quietly, finally finding the courage to talk about Hoseok’s wife.

Hoseok smiles, “No.” He admits with a laugh, “I probably should have, but she was just… I don’t even have words for her.  We got married less than two years after meeting.”

“But she makes you happy?”  Jungkook phrases it in a way that seeks to confirm.

Hoseok pauses, considering Jungkook’s question, “Very much so.  Scratch what I said before, and follow your heart.  Don’t rush it though.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes.

v excited for tomorrow’s competition ^^~

Jungkook sighs, “I’m following my heart.”  Jungkook gets up to return to his room.  “Oh and Hoseok!  Namjoon doesn’t normally take back his advice.”

Hoseok smiles, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

a/n:
fever reducing translations: ibuprofen=advil/motrin, acetaminophen=tylenol 
so, my lovelies, hyorin is the name i landed on for hoseok's wife and it's 50000% influenced by jhope's touch my body era.
um... hoseok is important.  namjoon and his pseudo-punk rock-ness are adorkable.
sorry for missed words or wrong words.
comment or upvote, and if you haven't yet, subscribe (thanks for all of my returning subscribers, please don't leave...)

also, completely unrelated, but if you like me or vhope
​read this thing i wrote (if you'd like and i'd apperciate it.)

okay bye i love you. <3