namjoon's never been so uncertain in his life as he is now, in their dressing room, waiting impatiently for his turn to be dolled up and transformed by the makeup noonas. they're doing amazing work softening yoongi's harsh glare into something more drama-star-charismatic with just a few meticulous layers of eyeliner and fairy dust glitter. considering he woke up that morning with the eye-bags of a serial killer, namjoon's about ready to believe the makeup noonas are actually weaving magic from their manicured fingers. 

even their manager looks a little teary right now. and he'd been the one to convince them that they could be polished into rap idols, no problem, mm hmm. leave your gritty underground background at the door. tuck a few suave dance moves―courtesy of hoseok, the only one of their trio that has any idol work experience―under your belt. slap on some glitter and tah dAH. results: three awkwardly sparkly underground rappers posing as new generation hip hop idols. 

namjoon sighs and tries to keep that train of thought out of his face before yoongi notices and starts burning down the waiting room in rage-driven defiance. he's been the hardest to convert to idol-dom, if only because namjoon learned to suppress his own distaste to dis-encourage yoongi from pyromaniac desperation. 

they're a newbie group so they don't get their own waiting room yet. namjoon's exchanged polite, stiff greetings with the other two groups sharing their room, but it's like they can sense his trepidation at the thought of socializing. they stay clustered in their own groups, largely ignoring the three oddball rappers who look like they've been diverted from their route to nearest night club―and not even those nice swanky ones in hongdae, but the ones that are grungy and free and hold shows for both working professionals and gutsy amateurs. god would namjoon kill to be back there. at least it's something he's familiar with, even if he was living off ramen five nights out of the week and had more socks with holes than without. 

hoseok's nervously practicing the dance routine―or their meager excuse for one since namjoon has two left feet and yoongi, no patience―so namjoon decides to go get a drink. he doesn't want to make hoseok even more nervous by standing off to the side frowning at his own reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors like he has just noticed he has unconsciously been doing for the past ten minutes. hoseok calls this his 'deeply pondering' expression. yoongi says it's his 'thinking too much deep ' face. whatever you call it, it certainly hasn't warmed up his image to the other newbies in the room. they avoid his gaze as he stalks out the door. 

"get me a pocari sweat!" yoongi shouts after him. 

since this is one of those nice broadcasting company buildings (not that namjoon has been in many but he can dream right?) there's a tv monitor showing the current rehearsal performance onstage in just about every hallway. he passes two such monitors on the way to the vending machine and then again when he finds out he's left his wallet in the waiting room and has to double back. the first time he passed the monitors there was a boy group performing with the two main singers belting their hearts out while pulling the kind of fancy dance moves hoseok gave up on teaching namjoon months ago. namjoon actually paused a step to watch with begrudging admiration. though if anyone questioned him he'd deny it immediately.

the second time he passed the monitors, a girl group was moving in unison, as smooth as synchronized swimmers and namjoon felt a small stab of disappointment that the preceding performance had ended so quickly. he must have been watching the last part of it. 

after he gets the money, goes back to the vending machine and grabs three drinks (knowing hoseok he'll be all whiny when he comes out of his dancing coma and sees namjoon brought back nothing for him), he heads back to the waiting room, swigging his can of iced coffee like it's water. the girl group is still performing on the tv monitors. a couple idols pass him by. jerky nods. averted eyes. 

then just when he's a door away from his waiting room he hears pounding steps rapidly approaching like a sudden torrent of rain when the weather is being tricky and you're out without an umbrella. namjoon swivels around, lips on the can, two bottles under his left armpit, when a flurry of dark-hair-big-eyes-cheeky-grin in idol costume careens around the corner, spots him and dashes in his direction without any hesitation in movement. namjoon barely has any time to do more than step back when the runner reaches him in record time―idol olympics has a lot to explain―and literally lunges at him. 

namjoon ducks with what must be the last bit of remaining prehistoric human instinct left in him to pull off that kind of agility and the dasher ends up behind him.

"what―" namjoon cuts off when he feels something cold press against his neck.

no ing way.

"i-is that a gun?" namjoon croaks, cold sweat sprouts under his collar. 

"i'm so so so sorry," his attacker apologizes with a higher voice than namjoon was expecting from someone of his height. he must be younger, which really isn't that surprising because namjoon is mid-range in age for an idol, and definitely older than any of the starting newbies. 

plus it's not the age that's surprising namjoon, but the fact that it's an idol holding a gun to his neck.

only in seoul does like this happen.

"so," namjoon his lips, he has his right hand holding the coffee can outstretched, left hand as high as possible without dropping the two drinks under his arm (though why it's imperative that he still hold onto them at a moment like this is uncertain), "why are you pointing a gun at me?" poking is the right word. namjoon swallows and the gun moves with the bob of his throat.

'mom, i'm sorry i didn't clean my room when you asked,' he thinks. 

"i'm really sorry," the boy-idol-gunman repeats, sounding only one part apologetic, three parts excited and blood-thirsty. though maybe that last bit is namjoon projecting. "just play along till jimin-hyung comes please? he's going to try to kill me so i need a shield and you're really tall." 

 "you picked me because i'm tall?" namjoon says dumbly. then he backtracks. "who the hell is jimin and why do i care that he's trying to kill you?" 

there's laughter in the voice that answers. "because i'm holding you hostage so he doesn't kill me. jimin-hyung has a thing for rappers. you are a rapper aren't you? you look kinda like one and you have the voice for it, all club-bass-deep and stuff." 

namjoon's not sure if he should take that as a compliment or not. "uhh, thanks," he says gruffly. he feels his ears warm when boyish giggle-snickers are let loose right beside them. he's suddenly all too aware of how closely they're standing, the weight of the arm over his shoulder, the heat of another body at his back. 

"also jimin-hyung's in my group. are you new? i haven't seen you around before." namjoon feels him lean around and turns his head to catch him face to face. namjoon freezes. 

he saw this face onscreen no more than a fistful of minutes ago. it's one of the vocalists of the boy group that had just finished stage rehearsal. 

"oh," mouths said vocalist, looking about as stunned as namjoon feels, "i haven't seen you before. i definitely would have recognized you if i did." 

if he wasn't red before, he is now. it's not every day pretty boy idols are telling him he's memorable while their arm is around him. 

he loves seoul city. 

"kim namjoon," he blurts and simultaneously swears a mile through his head for lack of smoothness. his attacker opens his mouth and then―

"JEON JUNGKOOK." the shrill battle cry ricochets down the hall, followed by a boy in similar costume to the one currently holding namjoon at gunpoint. 

he stabs a finger in their direction. button nose, large cheeks, innocent yet murderous features, like a child demon. 

"I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU," he roars and charges. the newcomer barely seems to register namjoon's presence, which negates jungkook's whole plan. the boy falls back from namjoon with a shriek and runs off howling as his groupmate, presumably 'jimin-hyung', chases after him like a bulldog with frightening impressive abs peeking from his fashionably slashed-open shirt. 

namjoon just clutches his drinks to him as their combined noise and force echoes down the halls like a chaos tornado and makes idols and staff alike scramble out of the way to avoid collision. he registers what has just happened. when jungkook jumped off him he was holding a microphone, one of the heavy ones used for the clearest sound, not a gun. 

namjoon has been duped. 

two doors down, hoseok pokes his head out of the waiting room and gives him a bug-eyed look. 

"namjoon, it's your turn for makeup. what are you doing just standing there? you look like you've just been robbed." 

"nothing but my dignity," namjoon mutters. 

"huh?" hoseok looks even more boggled. 

namjoon just throws one of the drink bottles at him and storms into the waiting room. 

.

.

the next time namjoon meets jungkook is months later when his group's debut song, tentatively named 'bulletproof' oh the irony, is near the end of its promotion period. the name 'rapmonster' still feels sort of uncertain to his ears, like it should be followed by a question mark, but he's starting to wear it on his shoulders with the same kind of confidence he once wore 'runch randa'. it gets easier with every performance, where the fans chant it back to him in confirmation that yes, that is who he is now. rapping idol extraordinaire. rapmonster. 

he's abruptly brought back down to ordinary kim namjoon when a group of idols, freshly made up, visits their waiting room while he's wiping sweat off his neck from the finished music show performance. namjoon can tell from the way the newbie group they're sharing the waiting room with starts to goggle open-mouthed in their direction that these visitors are big time. he really should start watching more music shows to get a feel for their competition. 

one of the faces near the back with a boxy-grinned kid hanging all over him like a demented orange-haired octopus strikes namjoon as familiar. he speaks right over the gentle-faced leader of the group, seokjin?, who's introducing himself in that peppy manner all idols seem to have instinctively learned except for his group. 

"jeon jungkook, right?" namjoon is a little bemused by how the orange-head hanging over jungkook curls tighter around him as if to protect him. what, does namjoon look like he's about to throw himself at them fists swinging? it's not as if he's a walking ball of rage like yoongi who's currently in the back swearing loudly over having to keep on the face full of bb cream for more idol activities after the music show. 

"yeah?" jungkook replies warily, underlining defiance noticeable to everyone. he shuts up at a sharp look from the group leader. 

"like i was about to say," continues seokjin with world-weary patience, "jungkook is here to apologize over the stunt he pulled the other day. we would've come by earlier but ahhh―" he dithers, which namjoon can understand the reason for without it needing to be said aloud. bangtan's lyrics are still―according to certain broadcasting companies―too explicit to show on air. so the amount of music shows they've been allowed to perform on has been reduced to a fraction of the usual amount for normal debuting groups, making it difficult to cross paths with jungkook's group. 

he spares seokjin the agony of tip-toeing around the subject and says, "it's fine. i actually thought it was a little funny afterwards. i can't say i've ever been held hostage before then." he shrugs good-naturedly. 

"wait what happened?" hoseok interrupts, pulling up to namjoon's right with his towel around his neck. 

jimin, who namjoon just now notices is hidden partly by the width of seokjin's shoulders, gives a gasp. "you're j-hope!" he says in a tone not unlike that of the girls that see them for the first time at fan meetings. 

hoseok grins back on reflex. "hello!"

the orange-head starts giggling as jungkook rolls his eyes and hisses not quite under his breath, "hyung, keep it cool!"

keeping it cool is obviously not in jimin's priorities because when hoseok compliments their group choreography as an icebreaker jimin rushes him away to show it so quickly that he might as well have a dog tail wagging after him.

the orange-head thinks this is gut-wrenchingly funny right up until he spots yoongi lounging on the sofa, bobbing his head to mp3 music, and immediately goes starry-eyed like a shoujo anime character. he speeds off with a garble that sounds sort of like, "omygodohmygodthat'sTHEsugaminsugaholycra―"

"who the fu―" 

"oh no. taehyung, get back here!" seokjin rushes off after him. and then it's just jungkook and namjoon watching the antics of their group members. 

"so," namjoon turns back with an eyebrow raised, "you are a rapper," jungkook says. 

"...you never even apologized for pretending to hold a gun on me." jungkook snickers at the incredulity in his voice and namjoon inwardly despairs that his ideal type is apparently cute, bratty and male. why did that realization have to come now of all times? 

"you're the one that assumed," jungkook points out smugly. "i didn't even realize my mike was resting on your neck until you thought it was a gun. which is so weird because why would i have a gun on a music program?" 

namjoon reddens. "i don't know! why would you be holding me hostage in the first place?" he throws back defensively. 

"i don't know," jungkook copies him, shrugging. he suddenly deflates, looking...embarrassed? he shuffles his feet, looking uncertain and young. "i was just playing around, running from jimin-hyung and you were standing right there. and you looked like a nice person? i know it's stupid but i thought you looked like you wouldn't have gotten mad if i joked around with you. you seemed...nice."

it's the most ridiculous thing namjoon has heard because everyone's been telling him since pre-debut that his face is anything but 'nice'. but with jungkook peering at him through sooty lashes, a hesitant, shaky smile about to slide off his lips at any hint of anger from him, somehow, just somehow namjoon can believe it. 

"looks like you made the right call," namjoon tells him, corner of his own lips tugging up. jungkook's smile gains extra wattage, showing adorable bunny teeth and crinkles at the corner of each eye. 

namjoon's knees go weak. this is why he isn't meant for idol-dom, he's a er for pretty faces. 

"you never mentioned," namjoon says quickly to divert attention from the way he's struggling to keep his balance, "why was jimin trying to kill you again?" 

jungkook's grin slants with mischief. "i called him short during the rehearsal shooting. as in, when the fans were chanting, 'park jimin' during his solo part, i chanted along, 'is short'. he was pissed but then he got kinda stabby-looking when our manager said the rehearsal clips would be aired as well. so i bolted."

"you're just a real troublemaker aren't you?" namjoon shakes his head, and pretends there's more exasperation than fond awe in his tone. either way, jungkook looks pleased. neither of them look when they hear jimin and hoseok warble in unison the troublemaker song chorus in the background. 

"so..."

"do you think you'd want to collab with me sometime?" jungkook spills in a rushed breath like if he doesn't say it all now he'll never get the chance to. namjoon gapes, balance thrown. 

"i already asked my manager and he ok-ed it," jungkook adds like that's the reason why namjoon isn't saying anything. he chews his lip for a moment and confesses, "um, think about it? please? i really really like your stage performance, and your song lyrics and just you know, your rapping in general. you're really cool, hyung. i'd seriously kill to collab with you. i mean―if you even want to collab with me, that is. it's fine if you don't, no pressure haha." jungkook zips his mouth shut and looks so miserable for a moment that it shocks namjoon out of his own stillness. 

namjoon shakes his head briefly to dislodge the syrup-sludge his brain seems to be trapped in. "yeah," he says and coughs and tries again, stronger. "yes. actually i'd love that. let me just get a pen and paper and your manager can call our ma―"

that's about the moment when he realizes the pen and paper he's been reaching for without looking is actually on a fold-up table across the room. it's also the moment that he overreaches while patting the air for the missing utensils, and he goes crashing to the floor sideways with all the grace and luck of a three-legged baby giraffe. 

"hyung, are you okay?" jungkook sounds panicked.

namjoon tries to imagine he is one with the floor. 

things can't get much worse than this, he thinks. then in the back he hears yoongi drawl, unworriedly, "don't lose your lunch, kid. he does that all the time."