Seokjin places his cup of coffee down on the dark wood table and plops himself down on the matching chair. He looks down to his wristwatch, eyebrows narrowed and a frown on his face. “When did you say they’d meet you,” he asks looking across the table to Namjoon.

“One,” Namjoon replies, fingers smoothing down his shirt. He’s been restless since he’d first stepped into the café, the nerves making him fidget relentlessly as he waited. It was understandable, after endless nights of searching and anxiety, Namjoon had found help for his apartment search in the form of a friend from his time serving. The man knew someone who may have been in need of a roommate and gave Namjoon the number to contact him.

After a bit of texting, and a few pictures of the place, he’d been asked to meet face to face.

“Relax,” Seokjin says, his eyes watching the way Namjoon’s hand glide down his shirt, smoothing away the imaginary wrinkles and dust. “It’ll go smoothly.”

“What if it doesn’t,” Namjoon asks. He only has a week left and then he’ll be out on the streets.

“Then it doesn’t,” Seokjin says flippantly. “Don’t settle because you’re afraid you will be homeless. We’d never allow that, you know. My sofa is amazing, and you’re probably one of the few people Yoongi would willingly share his bed with.”

Namjoon flashes a nervous smile, and peers down at the cappuccino in his hands feeling the tension in him ease just a bit more. “Thanks, hyung,” he mutters.

“Are you going to tell them you’re,” Seokjin pauses, interrupting himself. He leans across the table until he’s closer to Namjoon and whispers the word out. “Gay?”

Namjoon makes a face as he shakes his head. “No,” he breathes out, “I’m looking for roommates not friends. They don’t need to know, it’s not like I bring people home regularly.”

“Are you sure,” Seokjin asks. His eyes are big and bright as he gazes at Namjoon.

Namjoon shrugs his answer. “It’s not like I haven’t hit it from the people I’ve lived with before. It’s safer this way and besides this will only be temporary.”

Seokjin’s lips are pursed together and his eyebrows are drawn so close together that there’s a hint of a wrinkle in the skin between them. His hands are clasped around the tall coffee cup as he stares down Namjoon.

Namjoon takes one look at him and looks away, bracing himself for the lecture he’s bound to get about living a lie.

“I’m not your mother,” Seokjin states after a moment. “You’re a grown man, you’ve served.” He sounds as if he’s speaking more to himself than to Namjoon, but he soon relaxes against the seat as the tension leaves him. “Do what you think is best, just be careful, yeah?”

“I always try,” Namjoon says, taking a sip of his drink and feeling the warmth spread through him.

Seokjin notices him first. He’s facing the door of the café to give Namjoon a reprieve and has been watching every single person that has walked into the café since sitting down. Seokjin doesn’t know how, but he just knows that this blond-haired male with curious eyes and his coat in his arms is one of Namjoon’s prospective roommates.

The boy is looking down at the phone he’d fished out of his coat pocket just as Seokjin switches his attention to Namjoon, waiting in mild anticipation.

Namjoon’s phone chimes with a new alert and then he’s turning, hesitating as he lifts his hand to wave. The man smiles and walks over to their table with quick and graceful steps. He’s shorter than both of them, yet his smile is the biggest Seokjin has ever seen. “Hi,” he breathes out. “I’m Park Jimin.”

There’s a pause moment later after the introductions, a lull of silence envelopes the pair. Jimin has walked away to give his order, his coat hanging off the back of one of the empty chairs. Namjoon is watching him, tension bleeding from his shoulders, and Seokjin is watching his friend.

“He seems nice,” Seokjin mutters a half-second later. Namjoon’s eyes move from Jimin to him, hands holding the cup before him. “Small too,” he adds capturing just a flash of Namjoon’s dimples as his lips quirk.

“And, why is that relevant?” Namjoon asks, his tone is dry as he stares at his friend’s sparkling eyes.

“I could probably take him if he turns out to be a homophobe.” He pauses, teeth impaling his bottom lip as he thinks over his words. “Or, convince Yoongi to,” he amends a moment later. Namjoon laughs at the sight of Seokjin’s grimace.

“Don’t laugh,” Seokjin commands throwing a wadded up napkin and hitting Namjoon’s arm.

“Hobi- Hoseok should be here soon,” Jimin says as he takes his seat with two paper cups in his hands. “His Tuesday classes sometimes run late.”

“Classes,” Seokjin repeats. “Is he a student?”

Jimin shakes his head at the question and then ruffles his styled hair by running his fingers through it. There’s a flush warming the apple of his cheeks as he speaks. “No, Hoseok is a dancer. He teaches hip-hop classes on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”

“He’s a dancer,” Seokjin says, repeating Jimin a second time as he meets Namjoon’s eyes. Namjoon raises an eyebrow at his friend but says nothing as he takes a sip from his drink.

“We both are,” Jimin says, his face a more vibrant pink than it was only moments ago. “We met in college.”

“Do you teach as well,” Namjoon asks, his focus on the blond sitting beside him.

“I do,” Jimin answers with a bashful grin. "Mostly modern dance, but I do a bit of ballet now and then.”

“That’s cool,” Namjoon says with a smile of his own.

“It’s a lot more interesting than what Namjoon does,” Seokjin adds, grinning at the flushed state of his best friend.

“What do you do,” Jimin asks, perking up after this initial embarrassment.

“I work in publishing,” he says. “… as an assistant.”

“That’s interesting,” Jimin protests.

“It isn’t,” Seokjin teases. “Namjoonie’s been thinking of going to graduate school.”

“I have not,” Namjoon denies.

“That’s what you said.” Seokjin says, pointing an accusatory finger.

“I was being as serious as that time you said you’d look good with your hair dyed green. Drunk people aren’t always reliable.”

Seokjin’s glare falters at the sound of muffled laughter and both boys turn towards Jimin as he laughs in his hand.

“How long have you been friends,” Jimin asks as his laughter dies down.

“Too long,” Seokjin says pouting.

“Since college,” Namjoon answers with an eyeroll, giving him a proper answer.

Jimin’s laughter ends as he opens his mouth to say something, only to pause. His lips have stretched into a smile and both Namjoon and Seokjin turn in the direction he’s facing. Standing at the door is a man in a vintage leather jacket, denim jeans, a red scarf covering half his face, and a red wool cap hiding his hair.

"Hobi-Hyung," Jimin calls out, lifting his hand in a half wave. They watch as the man at the entrance eyes sweep the cafe slowly until he stops on their table. He walks quickly over to the table stopping in front of the only empty seat.

“Sorry I’m late,” Hoseok says, undoing the scarf from around his face, and taking a seat. Jimin places the second drink in front him, and Hoseok smiles his thanks.

“It’s fine,” Jimin says, “I told them you had a class. This is Seokjin and Namjoon.” He gestures to each man in turn. Hoseok grins and greets them both as he reaches into his jacket pocket.

“I’ve taken more pictures of the place,” Hoseok says brightly, directing his grin at Namjoon.

Yoongi runs his hand down his face as he heaves a heavy sigh and leans back in his chair. He blinks bleary eyes slowly, gazing at the blank screen of his computer. With another groan he looks up at the white ceiling above his head. Inspiration is fleeting, coming and going at the worst of time, and just like now it’s gone again. He stands with halting movements and drags himself over to his bed, falling against it and releasing a second sigh. A feeling of contentment overwhelms him as he sinks deeper into the soft mattress, feeling the tendrils of sleep wrap around his weary body.

He’s exhausted, work lasted longer than he’d expected, and he’d been forced to walk the distance home. The 30-minute walk and sheer willpower to stay awake during work at lead to insomnia. First it was there was the buzzing in his head and then the intrusive thoughts he just had to write down if he wanted to sleep. He’d spent hours staring at his laptop, watching the early morning hours cycle from a deep inky darkness to the light, charming blue it currently is and feeling his inspiration travel farther and farther away with each passing minute.

Yoongi makes another noise as he rolls in bed, burying his head into his pillow.

His friends call him a published author like he’s done more than get a short story featured in the liberal arts alumni magazine and earned $100 on a poem he’d sold to an old classmate from some entertainment company’s group. He wasn’t even sure that still counted when it had been edited far pass what Yoongi had intended that the only think recognizable about it was his initials: YKM.

He was not a published author. He was still that kid from his past, still that insolent brat dreaming of making it big with a pen and paper. The only difference between the him of his past and the him now is that he’s got a pocketful of connection and an evened-out temper.

A sudden thump rouses him up and away from the soothing caress of sleep and Yoongi sits disorientated in the middle of his bed, blinking away the last bits of sleep still lingering within him. He stares at the wall connecting his apartment to his neighbor’s as the noises continue. It’s the complete opposite of the usual melodious hums that emit from the next door. It’s loud and jarring and Yoongi’s sure that the man next door is speaking at a high volume if not yelling.

Yoongi glares at wall separating them and then searches for his phone. When he finds it, he turns his glare onto his phone. He’d slept for two hours, even if it felt as if he’d only just closed his eyes moments ago. He’s got a message from both Namjoon and Seokjin, and a few new alerts from his work’s group chat, but nothing of any significance, not that he expected it.

The noise from next door has quieted down by the time Yoongi really gets up. He feels restless and decides that it’s reason enough to go out for a quick smoke and a trip to a nearby store. 10 minutes later Yoongi’s stepping out of his apartment, coat dangling off one arm and a cigarette stuck between his lips.

The noise from next door has resumed and Yoongi peers in that direction noticing that the door isn’t completely closed. He frowns his disapproval and turns to close his own door just as a shout and loud barking resounds through the corridor. Yoongi Jumps for the second time in the past hour, slamming his door harder than intended.

The barking continues at his feet, loud and demanding his attention as a small brown Maltese scurries back and forth in excitement before him. There is noise overlapping the sounds of the happy dog and Yoongi turns his head, catching sight of his neighbor bent at the knees with a leash in his hands calling for the dog at Yoongi’s feet.

Yoongi bends down towards the dog, reaching a tentative hand out towards it but it ignores his hand and jumps on his knees. He lifts it and walks towards his neighbor, watching the boy's eyes widen as he stands up as well. The man makes an unintelligible sound as he looks towards Yoongi and the dog.

"You know we're not supposed to have pets," Yoongi states, slipping the cigarette from his lips and pocketing it. The boy looks down, his hair falling into his eyes and his lips parting into a shy smile.

"Mimi isn't my pet," he says, reaching for the dog. "I'm a dog walker. We're only here because I forgot something." Yoongi just raises an eyebrow, looking over the man in front of him. He's taller than Yoongi, his hair long and curling at the ends. He stumbles over his words when he speaks, but the words are spoken with careful consideration.

After another look Yoongi nods and turns away, facing the direction of the apartment's stairwell. "I'm Kim Taehyung," the voice behind him calls out. Yoongi turns back for another moment, meeting wide eyes and a curious grin.

"Min Yoongi," he mutters dropping his gaze to the ground under their feet. When Taehyung doesn't bother to speak up a second time, Yoongi heads swiftly to the exit.