A week passes, and then another. Taehyung’s birthday comes and goes (no one is allowed to forget it), they watch the fireworks New Year’s Eve and drink too much. It’s the new year, Namjoon is a new man, and Yoongi still hasn’t brought up the song since that morning over breakfast.

Maybe ‘him’ is actually the devil, and Yoongi’s bargaining his soul away to get something for Namjoon’s song. It’s the only plausible reason Namjoon can find for Yoongi telling him to wait and then never talking about it ever again.

In the meantime, Namjoon has...gone a little crazy. He’s extracted the perfect lyrics from that enormous pile of papers he’d discovered on his bedroom floor the next morning, and in some weird of luck he’s found a beat to put it all to.

Yoongi spends most of his free time fiddling with tracks in their makeshift studio-office, so it’s not hard to find something Namjoon can rework and tweak to fit his idea. Specifically, one file in particular calls out to him the most – a repetitive, jazzy piano track that’s labelled several years back. It requires some changes, both to the track and to the lyrics, but Namjoon makes it work.

He can’t play piano, so this is a godsend. Yoongi had tried to teach him, once, but they hadn’t made it much further than basic chords. Namjoon’s skills extend as far as using the little MIDI keyboard hooked up to the computer, no further. Finding this gem from Yoongi’s ridiculously oversized collection of samples is exactly what Namjoon needed.

He’s just finished recording the first, scratch version of his lyrics – playing it back, matching rhyme to rhythm, that sort of thing – when the door to the studio slams open.

“You’re making music,” Yoongi says accusingly. No greetings, no pleasantries. The usual.

Namjoon has to recollect himself for a moment, waiting for his heart to return from the wall it just splattered against. When he does – “What- can you not do that? I just lost thirty years off my life.”

“I knew you were up to something,” Yoongi says, ignoring Namjoon’s plight and wheeling himself a chair over with a big grin. “You haven’t done for ages, I was starting to think you’d lost your touch.”

Namjoon gasps dramatically. “I would never.”

His theatrics form his demise. In the time it takes Namjoon to clutch at his chest like he’s been mortally wounded, Yoongi’s pulled the headphone set from the PC and smashed down on the spacebar.

“Wait-” Namjoon starts, but it’s too late.

It’s a particularly incriminating part of the song, somewhere in the middle. From the look on Yoongi’s face, Namjoon doesn’t stand a chance.

Yoongi carefully reaches over and pauses the playback. Doesn’t move a muscle from there, staring at the screen incredulously. “Was that- is that a love song.”

Namjoon drops his head into his hands as Yoongi rewinds back to the start, prepared to hear it out in full. Namjoon doesn’t even care if Yoongi listens to the music itself – he’s made way worse before, and he trusts Yoongi to give him the straight facts. The lyrics, however...

“Where’d you get the piano from?” Yoongi asks. The chair squeaks as he settles back, the room filled with Namjoon’s voice.

“You did that,” Namjoon mumbles. He’s pretty sure he’s bright red and there’s no way he’s coming out of his cocoon now. He’ll die in here. It’s fine.

“Oh, yeah, I did,” Yoongi says mildly, like Namjoon isn’t singing his love through the speakers.

Namjoon does come out of his cocoon when Yoongi doesn’t speak again, even after the song draws to a close. When he turns to face Yoongi, he’s met only with a very carefully constructed expression that he can’t quite read.

“Well, it’s a good song,” Yoongi says slowly.

Namjoon holds his breath, considers throwing himself from the roof of their apartment block.

Yoongi nods, acceptance. “Didn’t we agree that we’d try my way first?” he asks, even though they both know the answer. “If you care at all, Mr. Lovesick, my option has pulled through.”

“Your option,” Namjoon says deadpan, because there’s really nothing left to feel now. Why did he think this was a good idea? It’s not like he was actually planning on giving it to Seokjin, just wanted to get his thoughts out there – too late to take it back now.

Yoongi pushes his foot against the side of the desk, rocking himself back and forth. “You know Jungkook?”

“Is that a question?”

Yoongi reaches over to flick him on the forehead. “Shut up. As it turns out, the little doesn’t have a half bad voice. Even uploads covers on YouTube.”

“Like...singing covers?” Namjoon asks dumbly.

“No, he uploads pictures of manholes,” Yoongi replies mockingly, leaning over to open the internet browser on the computer. He pulls the keyboard towards him, rattling against the desk when the rubber pads underneath cause friction, and taps away. “Yes, singing covers.”

“And you know this...how?” Yoongi pulls up a video – a body, face out of view. The username doesn’t link to Jungkook at all, and Namjoon’s not really sure if this is a prank.

“Jimin.” Duh.

Namjoon’s left speechless when the audio starts. Paper Hearts, the title says – Namjoon faintly recognises it.

“That can’t be him,” Namjoon says finally. There’s no way emo-kid Jungkook is singing love song covers on the internet – and that voice.

“It’s him,” Yoongi confirms, sitting back to let the song play out. “No one’s supposed to know – he showed Taehyung, apparently, and that guy can’t keep a secret so naturally he passes it on to Jimin, and here we are.”

“Holy ,” Namjoon breathes, leaning forward. The room behind the figure on screen looks exactly how Namjoon might’ve imagined Jungkook’s room – albeit way cleaner, it puts Namjoon to shame. “That’s actually him.”

“I talked to him,” Yoongi says, stilling his chair. “He’s agreed – very tentatively – to do a cover of a song with you.”

“Me?” Namjoon asks, blinking hard. “Together?”

“He had this old song cover on his laptop, he showed it to me and I really think it would work. He never finished or uploaded it, but is happy to redo it over – that is, if you agreed.”

Namjoon sinks back into the chair, sliding down a bit until his posture is suffering. “That’s what you’ve been doing. You were convincing him.”

Yoongi shrugs. “It took some work, but he came round.”

“How’d you do it?”

“What?”

“Convince him.”

Yoongi hesitates. “You want this for Kim Seokjin.” He shifts his head to stare down at his fingers tapping a silent rhythm against his leg. “Jungkook’s got his own person to give it to.”

 

~*~

 

It all moves very quickly after that – it had taken weeks of radio silence on the subject to organise, but the actual production starts only a day later when Jungkook drops into the apartment for their first discussion.

He’s just finished playing the half-finished cover for Namjoon and Yoongi, all three of them cross-legged on the floor of the studio with paper and pen in hand. Well, not Yoongi right now, who had chosen to step out and get them drinks while Namjoon listened to the file.

“I can’t believe that’s really you,” Namjoon says – the amazement still hasn’t worn off. If anything, his mind has grown fuzzier having Jungkook in person here confirming everything to be true. Without backing music, only raw vocals, Namjoon can kind of pick Jungkook’s voice out of the audio. “Why didn't you finish it?

Jungkook shrugs, tipping backwards to lean on a single hand with a forced chuckle. “It got too hard, I couldn’t find a backing track and I didn’t just want to do it acapella, you know?”

Namjoon frowns, watching Jungkook. He’s fidgeting with the drawstring on his jumper and looking anywhere but Namjoon. Namjoon’s not good with reading people, but even he knows there’s something more to it. He’s also not particularly good with words, so he stays silent – which seems to work out in his favour after all.

“The song means a lot to me,” Jungkook says finally, voice quiet and hushed like he’s afraid of saying the words out loud. “It hurt too much, so I stopped.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” Namjoon murmurs. “We can choose another song if you want, you don-

“No,” Jungkook cuts in, suddenly full of determination. “I want to do this.”

“Want to do what?” Yoongi asks, pushing his way back inside with three glasses pinched precariously between his hands.

Namjoon gives Jungkook one last look, and Jungkook nods firmly. He turns back to Yoongi, carefully pulling one of the cups from his grip and saving them both the hassle of cleaning the carpets again. “We’re going to do the song.”

“We just have to find an instrumental track,” Jungkook says. “I couldn’t find one, but maybe there’s something new out there since I last tried to look.”

Yoongi shakes his head, flopping to the floor. “No way. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

“Hyung?” Jungkook asks uncertainly, at the same time as Namjoon straightens up with a grin.

Yoongi nods, the decision final. “I’ll produce it.”

“, this is going to be so good,” Namjoon says, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. This is the one, this is the one.

 

~*~

 

Yoongi acts like it’s no big deal, but Namjoon knows otherwise. He wakes up at 3 am one night to the sound of the piano in the living room, soft melodies filling the air that gently caress Namjoon back to sleep.

It’s not like this is new. Both Namjoon and Yoongi are prone to fixating on a single piece until it’s perfect...but not like this. Yoongi’s handling this song, just a simple cover, like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Namjoon is filled with love and gratitude every day for Yoongi. He knows why he’s so intent on getting this song perfect, and it makes Namjoon feel impossibly loved and cared for.

Thankfully, Namjoon can return the favour, even slightly, without burning down the kitchen in the process.

 

 

 

Thank god for Park Jimin, Namjoon thinks. Yoongi’s been holed up in the studio all day without food, and Namjoon really had not been looking forward to trying to cook something edible.

He’s been allowed to stir the pot while Jimin cuts vegetables, and he’s doing so with the utmost focus. Jimin laughs every time he passes, pointing out that Namjoon will get wrinkles before he’s 30 if he keeps frowning like that.

“When I first met him, he was like an angry little kitten,” Namjoon explains, scraping the wooden spoon around the bottom edge of the pot like Jimin had taught him. “I didn’t talk to him at first, but he kept popping up at all the events near me so it was kind of inevitable, you know?”

Jimin hums. “What was he like?”

Namjoon chuckles breathily. “God, Yoongi was....he was something. I think he’d just moved to Seoul back then, so he had this really thick accent and just constantly looked so awkward and out of place,” he says, smiling as he remembers. “You could pick him out in any crowd though, that white hair-”

Jimin turns to face Namjoon, affronted. “He what?”

Namjoon grins. “Did I not mention? He bleached his hair, it was like, pure ing white. I think I still have photos.”

Jimin hops from one foot to another. “I need to see,” he begs. “Leave the pot, I don’t care, I need those photos.”

Namjoon laughs, abandoning his careful stirring regime to scroll through his phone. It’s a long time back, but Namjoon’s positive there must be a photo somewhere – aha.

Not a photo, but a video. Back when they hadn’t moved in together yet, so young and fragile. He scrolls through the video until Yoongi’s in shot, pausing it on the frame to display proudly to Jimin.

 

 

“It’s not great quality,” Namjoon starts, but is quickly cut off by Jimin crowding in close and squealing.

“Oh my god,” he exclaims, zooming in on Yoongi’s face. “You have to send this to me.”

“I’ll jump on my laptop later and see if I’ve got any better stuff saved,” Namjoon promises, returning the phone back to his pocket. Jimin looks like he’s about to do a cartwheel with all that energy.

“I can’t believe he doesn’t dye his hair anymore,” he whines, knife slicing through a carrot with practiced precision. “Life is so unfair.”

Namjoon laughs, mindlessly twirling the spoon in the broth. “If there’s anyone who could convince him, it’s you,” he points out, wondering if he’d just sentenced Yoongi to doom.

“Convince me of what,” Yoongi asks flatly, scaring Namjoon into nearly spilling the broth. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Woah!” Jimin says cheerfully, a quick hand on Namjoon’s lower back to keep him steady. “We’ve come so far, let’s try to make it through dinner without any injuries.”

“Why are you out here?” Namjoon asks, stepping away from the pot and relinquishing his job to Jimin. “Not that we don’t want you, but...”

Yoongi flips him off, smile growing on his face. “ you too. I’ve finished the song, but I guess there’s no one here I want to hear it anyway.”

“Wait, no,” Jimin whines, bouncing away from the stove to launch himself at Yoongi. “You have to show me!”

Jimin’s wearing an overexaggerated pout, looking at Yoongi like he’s just been told he can’t have any dessert – but it’s the way Yoongi looks back at him that really surprises Namjoon. It shouldn’t, the pair have been together for months and months now, but Namjoon’s not sure he’ll ever get used to Yoongi being so...soft. Gentle. Loving.

“You coming?” Yoongi asks Namjoon, wrapping his arms around Jimin and pulling him to his chest like it’s completely natural to him.

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, struggling to hide the smile. He’s glad Yoongi’s found someone that makes him so happy.

 

~*~

 

When they’re all crowded into the room, huddled around the PC, Yoongi double-clicks the file saved to the desktop. Fools (Cover) – JK RM. Namjoon’s not sure what to expect, but he knows nothing can prepare him for it anyway.

When the piano starts, Namjoon’s heart stops. Yoongi! he wants to scream. You did this, you really did it.

When Jungkook starts singing, Namjoon forgets how to breathe entirely.

I am tired,

Of this place,

I hope people change.

Namjoon can’t believe how perfect Jungkook sounds. His voice had already been good just from what they’d heard in the YouTube videos, but with an actual microphone and the audio mastered by Yoongi – Namjoon has no words.

Namjoon hadn’t been there when Jungkook had recorded his section, he’d had a gathering with a few friends – not that it would’ve changed anything if he hadn’t. Yoongi had specifically forbidden Namjoon from coming anywhere near the studio while he worked, especially while Jungkook was recording.

Now, Namjoon hears it. The soul Jungkook puts into his music, it makes Namjoon feel like crying. He’s barely made it through the first verse and it’s already making him feel things that Namjoon doesn’t know how to cope with.

I see swimming pools and living rooms and aeroplanes,

Namjoon doesn’t know who Jungkook is singing for, who hurt him this bad that the melody became impossible, but Namjoon hears it and feels every emotion Jungkook pours into the song. He collapses into the chair next to Yoongi, unable to find the energy to keep himself upright anymore. Yoongi shoots him a look, but Namjoon waves him off.

But everything is shattering and it’s my mistake.

Namjoon is fairly certain Jungkook can’t speak English, which makes it all the more impressive – his pronunciation isn’t always there, but to have learnt this song in sounds alone and still sing it this well is an incredible feat. He’s so glad that Jungkook agreed to do this with them.

Only fools fall for you,

Only fools fall,

Only fools do what I do,

Only fools fall.

Namjoon almost feels guilty listening to this, like he’s witnessing a part of Jungkook that no one was meant to see. Heartbreak, unrequited, or something else, Namjoon feels sorry for Jungkook – he’s in deep.

And then, it’s Namjoon’s turn. This part doesn’t surprise him as much as Jungkook’s, mostly because he’d been there to sing it. He’d never really sung for a song before – he’d needed a full 30 minutes of trying to calm himself down before they could actually start recording.

It’s come out well, though. Better than Namjoon could’ve ever imagined, although he knows a lot of the credit probably goes to Yoongi for being a god at digital mixing.

Namjoon doesn’t know what to think, what to say. There’s a certain rawness in his voice that sends him reeling when he hears it back – it’s not as emotional as Jungkook’s, but it’s there. Namjoon can’t remember recording it with a specific sound in mind.

No, this is all him. This is just what he is.

Combined with Yoongi’s delicate, possessive piano, Namjoon forgets how to feel things entirely. Sits in a daze as his recorded voice moves from pre-chorus to chorus. Jungkook’s voice joins in, and Namjoon can’t do anything but stare blankly at the computer screen as that little icon moves further across the bar.

Only fools fall for you,

Only fools fall,

Only fools do what I do,

Only fools fall.

Namjoon is a fool. He gets it now, understands everything.

They hit the outro, piano growing as their voices fade. When only the piano remains, Namjoon’s chest twists uncomfortably and his heart rises to his throat.

In the silence that follows, Yoongi reaches across to grab Namjoon’s hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Jimin has disappeared, leaving the two of them alone, and Namjoon finally realises – he’s crying. Tears streaking down his face, expressionless in the wake of exposed emotion and sensitivity.

Namjoon rocks forward shoulders shaking. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but his grip tightens.

 

~*~

 

Namjoon doesn’t waste time – he sends it to Seokjin later that night.

 

 

If waiting for Yoongi to convince Jungkook was hard, this is a thousand times worse. Seokjin doesn’t work regular hours, so there’s no way of knowing when he’ll hear the song. Namjoon does the only logical thing there is to do and sits by his phone the entire day, waiting.

Yoongi and Jimin leave to go on a walk, which Namjoon finds a little ridiculous because Yoongi hates exercise with a passion. It leaves the house silent, so when Seokjin’s message finally comes through it echoes loudly and makes Namjoon jump.

 

 

 

Namjoon thinks he might just throw up. Maybe throw something, smash it against the wall. Do both at the same time.

In reality, he does nothing. It sounds really nice? That’s it?

Surely Seokjin would know his voice. There’s no way Seokjin wouldn’t recognise him, not if what Yoongi and Jimin say is true.

When the duo arrive home, bundled up in coats and scarves and beanies and gloves, Namjoon’s still sitting on the sofa. He hasn’t moved, doesn’t blink, barely breathes. Yoongi waves a hand in front of his face but Namjoon doesn’t do anything – what’s the point?

He doesn’t mind when Yoongi slips his phone out of his hands, still open to Seokjin’s messages. He doesn’t mind when Yoongi shows Jimin either; everyone may as well know that his song is just nice.

Jimin huffs, slipping his gloves back on just as he’d finally worked them off. “He’s an idiot. I’ll go sort him out.”

There’s a short scuffle, the sound of the front door opening and closing. Jimin has so many pairs of shoes here now, he may as well live here, Namjoon thinks blankly.

“You’re both so dumb, it’s like a match made in heaven,” Yoongi says lightly, settling back on the sofa next to Namjoon. It sinks under their combined weight, causing a dip in the middle that forces their thighs together. They’ve had this couch since they first moved in together, and Namjoon doesn’t think either of them would ever change it for the world.

“May as well watch something while we wait,” Yoongi says to no one in particular. He flicks through the channels. Namjoon just sits and watches. Why me?

 

~*~

 

Seokjin’s tired and he’s confused and he just wants to take a nap. The meetings today had been gruelling, everyone wanted something from him – which is fine, that’s usually how it goes. But then Namjoon had gone and vanished into thin air without explanation, and Jimin’s not responding to him even though he’s positive that he’ll be over at Namjoon and Yoongi’s house and would be able to tell him exactly what’s going on.

He kicks off his shoes at the front door, shrugs his coat onto a free space on the rack, and flops face first onto the sofa. He doesn’t even have the energy to turn something on, just lies there in silence. He finds himself wishing for his phone to ring, to buzz, to do anything – but silence.

Namjoon had recommended him songs before. Usually, Seokjin had asked for it; Namjoon has a really good taste in music and seems to be able to find all kinds of hidden artists that Seokjin has never heard of. It’s mostly rap and hip-hop, but Seokjin finds that the genre is growing on him a little. It’s not up there in his favourites, but he doesn’t hate it either.

But then Namjoon had sent him this song, completely out of the blue while Seokjin had been sleeping. This is for you.

It had been a nice song – Seokjin had plugged his headphones in on his lunch break and listened to the first 30 seconds or so before being pulled away by a manager. He hadn’t gone back to it – it was a nice song, slow and even, and the singer had a good voice. There just wasn’t any reason for him to care about it much past that point.

It’s not like he usually listened to Namjoon’s recommendations in full anyway. The first verse and the chorus were usually enough to get an idea of how the song was going to go.

This is for you.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a loud banging on his door – and Seokjin immediately knows who it is.

“Why don’t you ever call or text before you come over,” Seokjin complains when he opens the door, Jimin just pushing his way past like he owns the place. Jimin doesn’t respond, and Seokjin tenses – surely not another person ignoring him? Is he really doing that bad today?

He follows Jimin into the living room, blank when Jimin finally turns on his heel and points at Seokjin. “You didn’t listen to it.”

“Listen to what?” Seokjin asks, crossing his arms. Jimin better be here to cook dinner, or Seokjin’s about five seconds away from kicking his to the curb.

“The song, Namjoon’s song,” Jimin exclaims, looking frantic. “You totally blanked on him and didn’t listen, right?”

Seokjin frowns. “I listened to the first bit, what’s the big deal? It’s just a song.”

“Where’s your phone.”

“In my pocket – what are you doing?”

Jimin takes two steps forward shoving his hand into the pocket of Seokjin’s pants and pulling out his phone. “Unlock it.”

Seokjin does as he’s told. If this is some sort of practical joke, he’s going to ban Jimin from ever coming here again. Hire guards to stand out the front specifically to keep Jimin out of his hair.

“Sit,” Jimin commands, pointing at the couch. Seokjin bites his tongue – Jimin’s a child compared to him, who does he think he is, calling the shots like that? Still, he sits. Jimin’s energy doesn’t die down, so it’s probably important.

Probably, Seokjin thinks, recalling all those times when whatever Jimin was doing wasn’t important at all.

Jimin settles next to him, tucked in close. A song starts to blare from Seokjin’s phone speakers, Jimin even going so far as to turn it up to full volume.

The song, Seokjin realises. The one that Namjoon had sent him. He recognises that breathy tone the singer uses.

“Jimin, I don’t get i-” Seokjin starts to say when they reach the chorus, but Jimin shushes him.

Oh, our lives don’t collide, I’m aware of this,

Seokjin’s an idiot. A complete and total idiot that has completely messed this up with his dumb stupidity.

“Oh my god,” he says quietly, hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Oh my god.”

This is for you. Seokjin’s blind.

“That’s Namjoon,” Seokjin says dumbly when the song reaches an end. Jimin laughs and shoves his shoulder.

“The poor guy has been sitting there all day, I think you broke him.”

Broke him. That seems to come up a lot when it comes to Namjoon. Seokjin finds it endearing.

“Namjoon sung it for you!” Jimin continues, bouncing slightly on the sofa cushion. “He knows you like soft things so he’s soft!”

“Oh my god,” Seokjin repeats, because it’s the one of the only tangible things going through his mind. There are a few other things too, but it’s definitely inappropriate to say any of them out loud.

“And that’s Jungkook,” Jimin explains, winding the song back to the start to play all over again. Seokjin recognises it when Jimin tells him, but he really just wants to skip forward to Namjoon’s part.

“Namjoon wrote it for me?” he says, a little broken.

Jimin laughs again. “Nah, it’s just a cover, but he specifically wanted to do something for you and this is what happened.”

“Namjoon sang for me.”

Jungkook’s part passes and Seokjin falls silent again. The song is completely in English, but he already knows he’ll be in bed tonight translating each and every line. Knowing Namjoon, it probably all means something too – Namjoon’s always going on about how music is his best tool for communicating, especially when he struggles to find his words.

Jimin tosses the phone in Seokjin’s lap. “Have fun,” he teases, getting back to his feet as if to leave. Seokjin stays silent, unwilling to talk over what is most definitely his new favourite song.

 

~*~

 

Namjoon doesn’t know what Jimin’s done, but he trusts that it’s good. From the way Jimin tells it, he shouldn’t read too much into Seokjin’s weird responses – mostly because he hadn’t even listened to the song, the traitor.

With nothing better to do and in desperate need of a mental reset, Namjoon bundles himself up in layers of coats and wrestles his bike out the front door. He doesn’t spend long outside – it’s far too cold for that – but it invigorates Namjoon nevertheless.

Arriving home, he feels refreshed, renewed, and ready to go – Namjoon settles himself back in the office chair to work on something that will ultimately ruin his emotional stability (but is totally worth it). He needs to keep distracted anyway, or he’ll keep checking his phone every five minutes for updates.

The other song for Seokjin is coming together well. It’s nearly there, meaning that Namjoon’s now hit the worst part of the process – figuring out what’s missing.

He’s recorded and re-recorded, but it’s not his voice. He’s tried adding instruments, changing up the beat, remixing the piano track – nothing works. It’s not quite there yet, but he has no idea how to get it there.

By the time he’s pulled himself out of the music and away from the PC, he realises his mistake. With headphones in and turned up, he couldn’t hear his phone messages – which was the goal – but he also couldn’t hear phone calls.

He quickly swipes into his messages, cursing himself as he swings in circles on the chair.

 

 

10:03 pm – almost two hours ago. There’s no way Seokjin’s awake now, and Namjoon’s just squandered his opportunity.

He grins cheesily at Seokjin’s other messages as he types out one of his own. It’s too late to call back now, Seokjin’s always asleep before midnight – usually by 10 pm, even.

 

 

 

“Why are you awake?” Namjoon asks as soon he picks up. He couldn’t even get the full message out before Seokjin had called – almost as if Seokjin was waiting for him. He laughs at the idea, shaking the thought off.

“I told you I’m never going to stop listening to your song,” Seokjin replies, a teasing note creeping into his tone.

“O-oh.” Surely Seokjin’s joking? He feels his cheeks going red and is very glad Seokjin can’t see him. “It’s not really my song, it’s a cover, half of it is Jungkook, and Yoongi did most of the work anyway-”

“Joon,” Seokjin cuts in softly. He sounds sleepy – Namjoon didn’t know that was a thing you could fall in love with, but here he is. “Shut up.”

Namjoon’s never denied Seokjin anything. He does as he’s told, and Seokjin must hear his jaw snap shut because he laughs, high and sweet and pure.

“Besides, I’m not listening to Jungkook’s part, I’m listening to yours.”

Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat. “Mine?”

“Just you.”

Namjoon doesn’t know how to answer that. With Seokjin’s quiet, sleepy voice, it almost sounds like he’s flirting – which isn’t possible. He stays silent instead, deciding that anything he says right now could makes things weird, with the way his mind keeps straying.

“Were you working on something?”

Seokjin’s change of topic is a blessing for Namjoon; he’s not sure how much more of this he can take. “How’d you know?”

“You said you had your headphones in, but you obviously weren’t listening to music on your phone.”

“A new song,” Namjoon concedes. Feeling a little bold, he adds, “It’s something totally different, way out of my comfort zone.” He won’t describe the song itself to Seokjin, but he can still talk about it without revealing any shattering secrets.

“Ooooh,” Seokjin croons. “Is it going well?”

Namjoon almost nods, catching himself at the last second when he remembers that Seokjin can’t actually see him. They haven’t met since that first time, but it’s sometimes easy to forget that they aren’t that close. “I think so. Yoongi didn’t say he hated it, which is a good sign.”

“If Yoongi’s heard it, you must be pretty close to finished.”

There’s a hopeful note in Seokjin’s voice that fills Namjoon with guilt. “I...don’t think I’ll be releasing this one.”

Namjoon can hear the pout. “That’s unfair. I bet it’s really good,” Seokjin whines.

“Life’s tough,” Namjoon teases. “You’re so demanding, didn’t you just get a song?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“This one’s a bit too personal for the world to hear just yet,” Namjoon explains, twisting the headphone cord mindlessly around his fingers. “I wish I could show you, though.”

“I guess I can’t ask what it’s about, then.”

“Nope,” Namjoon says, popping the ‘p’.

“Can you describe the song to me? You said it’s something different.”

Namjoon hums, leaning back in the office chair and spinning slowly. “It’s...a pop song, I think. Maybe a little bit jazzy – it’s built on a piano track, from Yoongi, so it’s not like electronic or dance or anything.”

“Kim Namjoon writing a pop song? Give me a second.” Over the phone, Namjoon hears something that sounds suspiciously like bedsheets ruffling – his mind travels elsewhere until Seokjin’s voice forces him to reign it in. “Nope, can’t see any pigs flying past outside, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.”

Namjoon scoffs. “It’s not that crazy,” he argues weakly – he knows it’s a lie, but whatever. Seokjin probably reads right through him too, but he doesn’t comment on it.

They sit in silence for a while – and it’s weirdly comfortable. Namjoon rests his head on the back of the chair and closes his eyes, lets himself dream for a single second that he’s actually next to Seokjin.

“I’m really tired, Joon,” Seokjin murmurs. The way Seokjin says it; his voice will always take Namjoon’s breath away, but hearing him like this is a particularly special thing. He keeps his eyes closed and just imagines. “Thank you so much for the song. I’ll never be able to put it into words I think, but it was just...incredible. It made me feel really good.”

“I’m glad,” Namjoon whispers. His mind is empty but his heart is full.

“Good night, Joon. Don’t go to bed too late.”

“Good night, Seokjin.”

Namjoon stares at his phone for a little while after the call ends. He’s figured it out – he knows what’s missing from his song. Maybe it’s late, but Jungkook doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would mind.