Namjoon burrows the bottom half of his face deeper into the warm folds of his scarf. His numb fingers clench and unclench around the items in his jacket pocket; keys, phone, wallet, and air. A shiver vibrates through his bones as he trudges across the street. It’s winter. It’s Friday. It’s Hongdae.

The streets always seem more crowded around this time of night; packs of people loiter about, moving from bar to bar, busker to busker. He’s shuffling behind a group of rowdy men when his attention is captured by the sound of heavy bass-thumping music. He can’t hear any words, can hardly hear the actual beat, but it calls for him, each thump drawing him farther away from his path till he’s standing among a crowd of people.

The music reminds him of an old Seo Taiji and the Boys song, it’s all heavy bass and record scratching. The music isn’t the point. It draws people in but it’s the man dressed in the bucket hat and tracksuit at the center of the crowd that keeps them there. He moves with a fluidity that Namjoon wishes he possessed. The moves remind him of clips he’d seen in passing on the internet.

Before he knows it the music has changed, in place of the steady thumping of the hip-hop song, a familiar electronic sound fills the cold night air. Namjoon can’t see the dancer's eyes, but he can see the dancer’s lips and notices how the edges are now upturned. The man is grinning now and showing off his teeth. The crowd seems to perk up at the familiar song, and he plays along, mimicking a girl group dance with a silliness the previous dance lacked. People urge him on, some sing the song under their breath, others giggle to themselves, and shout words of encouragement. Namjoon’s smiling before he realizes, the energy of the crowd easing away the tension weighing him down.

******

Namjoon spots Yoongi at the edge of the bar, an empty seat beside him and a glass tight in his hand. His hair is back to black, and there’s a look of concentration on his features.

“How did you manage to save this,” Namjoon asks. He takes the seat beside Yoongi, pink flushed hands rubbing together to ease the numbness out of them. The bar isn’t as packed as one might expect for a place in Hongdae, but it’s still pretty full

“Have you seen me,” Yoongi asks, with a lift of his eyebrow. His voice hoarser than usual, and Namjoon hopes it’s the alcohol and that he’s not back to smoking. “This face is a blessing for more than one reason.”

Namjoon chuckles as he looks over the bar counter, Jaehwan is there mixing drinks and being his usual friendly self. He catches Namjoon’s eyes and proceeds to wink, turning away from the counter to prepare another drink. “Where’s Jin,” he asks. There is music playing but it’s too low to be heard over the people inside.

Yoongi shrugs, “he got a phone call and hasn’t been back since.”

Jaehwan comes towards them, pushing a glass of beer in front of Namjoon and handing Yoongi another glass of liquor to nurse. “I almost didn’t come,” Namjoon muses.

“You and me both,” Yoongi replies. “I can just imagine the type of voicemail Jin would have left if we both didn’t make the effort to show up.” His fingers are drumming against the bar counter, and his brown eyes seem to flit around the room. Namjoon almost asks him if he’s okay, but he doesn’t. He already knows the answer. “How is your apartment hunt going?”

Namjoon grimaces. “It’s going,” he answers. Between the bills, student loans, and still being underpaid and overqualified at his current job, finding a new and decent apartment was proving harder than he’d thought. “Seoul is expensive.”

Yoongi gives a commiserating nod. Namjoon knows he understands since he’s still living in a studio apartment near their alma mater. Despite being published a couple of times being a writer isn’t nearly as lucrative as one may think and Yoongi knows that better than most.

Kim Seokjin steps out from the backroom with eyebrows furrowed together, and full lips pulled down into a frown. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up to the elbows, and his hair is ruffled from obviously running his fingers through it too many times. Namjoon hasn’t seen him in weeks.

The smile Seokjin gives him is weak but the cloudiness does seem to leave his eyes. “Ideas,” he announces, stepping in front of the pair as he pulls out a pen and pad from his apron. “I need ideas. How can we liven this place up?”

“Live music,” Jaehwan suggests, stepping closer to Seokjin and peering over his shoulder, a shot glass in one hand, and a half-empty bottle of vodka in the other.

“Open-mic night,” Namjoon adds, expanding on the idea.

“Yes,” Jaehwan agrees as he moves away to give a patron their drink. “My voice is heavenly.”

Yoongi snorts and rolls his eyes at the bartender, leaning his head on his hand and looking down to the notepad. “Theme nights?” The matching looks that SeokJin and Namjoon shoot in his direction is enough to make the smaller male fidget in his seat taking a long sip out of his drink. “What? It’s not abnormal.”

“No,” Namjoon agrees, “it’s not abnormal, it’s just…”

“It’s hard to imagine you wearing a Hawaiian shirt and drinking mai-tais,” Seokjin adds on, laughing when Yoongi glares at him. They throw ideas back and forth as Yoongi and Namjoon sip on the drinks handed to them and before they know it Seokjin’s notepad is filled with ideas.

******

“We missed you,” Seokjin tells Namjoon after Yoongi has left and the bar has calmed down. It late. Too late to catch the last train home. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

Yoongi said something similar the week after he was discharged. The pair of them sitting on the floor of Yoongi’s apartment Cass beers taking up space between them. He’d been avoiding this for a while now, since the tears and frustrations of coming back and having everything change. He didn’t even have a home now.

“Missed you too,” he replies, feeling much too sober for a heart to heart. Seokjin looks him over, his handsome features morphing into a look of concentration as he drags his eyes across Namjoon’s body. At last, he meets Namjoon’s gaze again his look of concentration breaking and his smile returning. It’s the same weak smile as earlier. Namjoon knows that smile. It’s the smile he had after his uncle’s funeral and when he found out he was inheriting a bar, and the one he had all those years ago when he first ignored his mother’s call. 

It’s the look he has when he’s troubled but doesn’t want to bother anyone with his worries. If Namjoon remembers anything after two years, it’s that Kim Seokjin is one stubborn man and he’ll never tell a soul what’s bothering him if he doesn’t want to.

A/N: I have really good feelings about this one. Tone wise it's close to what I usually write although I haven't worked with multiple POVs in years. I hope you enjoy it and I'll try to update soon.