~*~

 

“Wait,” Yoongi says, grabbing Namjoon’s bicep as Jimin disappears into the crowd – presumably to murder one Kim Taehyung, if the words from his mouth are anything to judge by.

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” Namjoon asks, hesitating just inside the door of the venue. From a distance, he can only see Jimin’s light hair as he launches himself at a very vibrantly dressed man. Namjoon can nearly hear the ensuing vocal chaos that follows. “Are you sure they’ll be alright?”

“What?” Yoongi says blankly, digging in his jacket pocket for something. He clutches at something and glances up to follow Namjoon’s attention. “Oh, yeah, they’ll be fine. Jimin couldn’t actually murder someone...probably.”

“Probably?”

“Whatever,” Yoongi cuts him off, ing his closed fist forward to deposit his prize into Namjoon’s palm. He’s a little surprised to discover that Yoongi’s given him a USB. A violently bright pink USB, when Namjoon knows for a fact that Yoongi buys the same plain black USBs in bulk off the internet. Turning it over, his heart skips a beat.

In Yoongi’s messy handwriting, on a little slip of paper hastily taped to the underside of the USB: Kim Seokjin.

Namjoon doesn’t need to ask questions; he knows exactly what he’d find on that USB. Yoongi’s staring at him intently, expression soft and unwavering.

“Just think about it,” he says, simple and straightforward. Namjoon has war flashbacks.

You should think about sending it to him, hyung.

Just think about it.

He wouldn’t say no.

Namjoon tucks the USB safely in the pocket of his jeans, nodding. He owes Yoongi that much – he’ll at least think about it.

(Think about all the ways he’s absolutely not going to give this to Seokjin, more like.

that.)

 

~*~

 

“I thought you’d be dead by now,” Yoongi announces drily as they join the rest of the group. Taehyung offers him a lopsided grin, lazed out on a dirty booth sofa that looks like it was ripped straight from one of those condemned nightclubs nearby – and knowing these kinds of places, Namjoon is aware that it probably was.

Jimin’s perched on Taehyung’s lap, arm thrown across Taehyung’s shoulders to keep him upright. He sticks his tongue out at Yoongi.

“What took you guys so long?” Hoseok interrupts, feet kicked up next to Taehyung on the couch opposite. “I mean, even Seokjin didn’t take that long to get ready. I didn’t take you for a diva, Yoongi.”

Yoongi sticks his fingers up towards Hoseok at the same time that Seokjin cries out in dismay. “I was ready before you arrived!”

“Namjoon drove, got us lost,” Yoongi says, giving Namjoon a shove towards the empty space on the half-circle sofa – conveniently next to Seokjin, what a surprise. “Drinks, anyone?”

Hoseok laughs, lifting himself from the booth as all seven hands go up in the air. “I’ll help you carry.”

Namjoon wedges himself in between Seokjin and Jungkook – the former looking absolutely stunning, as per usual, and the latter in an all-black combo that makes Namjoon question whether this really is Jungkook’s first time in the scene. The guy fits right in with the crowd, and Namjoon’s not convinced there isn’t something else at play.

“It’s been a while, Joon,” Seokjin greets happily, resting a hand on Namjoon’s knee. It has been a while, they haven’t seen each other since that last performance – but Namjoon doesn’t have time to focus on that because Seokjin is touching his knee.

“When are you performing, hyung?” Jungkook asks, slouching. Namjoon’s a little surprised to not find him attached at the hip with Taehyung, until he follows the long line of Jungkook’s legs and sees the way Taehyung is playfully knocking their feet together. Taehyung doesn’t even look like he knows what he’s doing, engrossed in some argument with Jimin.

Namjoon shrugs. “There’s not really a schedule for these kind of things, you just get up when you’re told or take the stage when it’s empty, either or. Reckon Yoongi’s friend will let us know, announce for us or something.”

“You’re not nervous?” Seokjin asks. He’s leaning in closer now, to be heard over the cacophony of voices and music in the tight space. It technically only started officially half an hour ago, but there’s already a thin layer of smoke covering the ceiling and harsh beats tearing through the speakers.

“Not really,” Namjoon answers honestly. “This is way more casual than the other one you saw, there’s not as many barriers here.”

It’s somewhat of a lie, but not in the way that Namjoon intended. Performing here really is easier than that ‘professional’ stage he’d been on, but there were still certain...obstacles to overcome. Here, there aren’t any acknowledged expectations, but there’s still unspoken rules and customs to follow – mostly outdated hip-hop systems that make no sense. Still, Namjoon’s not going to make his friends uncomfortable by telling them about the underbelly of this supposedly ‘welcoming’ collective.

“No singers,” Jungkook comments, staring up at the rickety stage in the centre of the space.

“No singers,” Namjoon confirms. “Rap only.”

“I’m sure you’ll love that,” Jimin teases, hanging backwards off Taehyung until he can make eye contact with Seokjin.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “I’m not here for rap, I’m here for Joon,” he responds easily, squeezing Namjoon’s knee lightly. Namjoon dies.

Taehyung peeks around Jimin’s shoulder. “Can literally anyone get up there?”

“Mostly, although there’s a kind of hierarchy you follow. Sometimes, it’s a bit more organised and scheduled and there’s this big open mic space at the end. Those can get pretty weird.”

“Huh,” Taehyung hums – Jungkook shoots him a funny look, but Taehyung doesn’t elaborate.

“Beer!” Hoseok announces, stepping into their midst with four plastic cups spilling over between precariously twisted fingers. “I have drinks.”

“Gimme,” Taehyung says immediately, making grabby hands towards Yoongi following up from behind – and casting Jimin aside in the process.

“Hey!” Jimin cries, but he remains unheard in the face of liquor.

Namjoon quickly realises that it’s not just cheap beer, but the absolute bottom-of-the-barrel kind that he’d only ever drink at these kinds of events – but it makes it all the more real. Surrounded by friends that he’d never dreamed of meeting in person, here to support him and Yoongi’s conquest on stage with their own music...Namjoon’s a little light-headed.

Yoongi kicks out at Taehyung, forcing him to sit up straighter and make space for Yoongi to squeeze in. Jimin immediately takes this as a sign for free real estate, flopping onto Yoongi and throwing his legs back up across Taehyung until they’re both groaning under his shifting weight.

“, Jimin,” Yoongi says, without a single ounce of weight behind his words. Jungkook scrunches up his nose as he pulls closer to Namjoon, avoiding the beer sloshing in Yoongi’s cup, while Namjoon seeks eye contact with Yoongi only to mouth “whipped.”

(Yoongi just shrugs at him for that, a sort of what can I do? look about him.)

“So, Kim Seokjin, what do you think?” Yoongi calls out, holding his beer high to avoid hitting Jimin in the head. Taehyung’s wriggling, which makes Jimin wriggle, and Yoongi looks torn between giving in and giving up.

“It’s...different,” Seokjin says finally, staring around at the warehouse. It’s small and cramped, people shouting and yelling and smoking and drinking and everything that Seokjin is not, Namjoon thinks.

Hoseok laughs, leaning into Seokjin. “I’ve always wanted to come to one,” he starts wistfully, before turning narrowed eyes onto Namjoon. “But these ers are too in love with each other,” he continues, gesturing between Yoongi and Namjoon, “to invite anyone else.”

Jimin gasps dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. “Yoongi! Are you cheating on me?”

Yoongi pats Jimin’s head comfortingly, Jimin squawking when Yoongi flattens out his perfect hair. “There, there, you’ll always be my second choice.”

“Rude,” Jimin bites back, slapping Yoongi lightly against his chest. Turning to Taehyung, he bats his eyes. “I’m newly single, take me on a date?”

“Absolutely not,” Taehyung says immediately, taking a long sip from his cup when Jimin starts to whine. Namjoon doesn’t miss the equally long look Taehyung shares with Jungkook, even if he can’t quite decipher it.

“I’m a catch!” Jimin complains, tipping backwards until Yoongi’s forced to catch him. “Can’t believe none of you can see that!”

“Oh, please, Jimin,” Hoseok cuts in. “I’ve seen you after dance practice, you are anything but a catch.”

“Says you,” Jimin argues, sticking his tongue out at Hoseok. To his credit, Hoseok only holds his hands up in a gesture of complete acceptance.

“You ready?” Namjoon asks, nudging Yoongi’s foot with his own.

Yoongi stares at him for a moment, like he’s rolling the idea around in his head before he makes a choice. “I think so.”

“You’ll kill it. Just look at the that’s up there now, we’re gonna crush it.”

Namjoon’s not wrong, either. The start of the night isn’t usually the top acts, so to speak, and this is no exception. Namjoon doesn’t mind – everyone has to start somewhere, and good on these kids for having the confidence to get up on a stage in front of total strangers to do what they love. Still, Namjoon also wouldn’t mind taking a step outside for a little while until his head stops ringing. More alcohol usually cures it, too.

“ yeah, we are,” Yoongi responds, holding out his beer to clink against Namjoon’s. “I’ll ing drink to that.”

 

~*~

 

“Hypothetically,” Taehyung shouts, almost entirely drowned out by the chorus of indignant voices that surround him. “I said hypothetically!”

It’s late, Namjoon’s a few too many drinks in, and yet he struggles to find an ounce of exhaustion in his body. He and Yoongi, they’ve come to way too many of these events by now to not be used to the rough atmosphere, and yet there’s something entirely different about experiencing it with friends by your side.

Normally, Yoongi and Namjoon would’ve split up by now, mixing in with the crowd to find old friends and occasionally sighting each other across the room. Now, Namjoon hasn’t left his seat the entire night yet (except to fetch his turn of a round of drinks), comfortably wedged between Jungkook and Seokjin.

Seokjin, Seokjin, Seokjin. Namjoon’s not sure whether to be glad that they’re sitting next to each other – this way, Namjoon doesn’t have to worry about accidentally staring at Seokjin all night, but he’s also very aware of Seokjin’s thighs pressed against his, of Seokjin’s cologne and voice and warmth and . Namjoon’s screwed either way.

“There are no hypotheticals!” Hoseok screeches, jabbing a finger towards Taehyung. “You’re just a heathen!”

“Burn the witch!” Jimin joins in, ing his drink in the air.

Seokjin laughs, too close to Namjoon’s ear and too heavy on Namjoon’s shoulder. As the night progressed, as the drinks were poured and consumed and poured once more, they’ve been taking down that barrier that exists between two close friends that have never (okay – once, but that barely counts) met in person...and now Namjoon’s not sure where the line exists for the kind of contact that is too close for ‘just friends.’

But hey, Namjoon wouldn’t change this for the world. No way.

 

~*~

 

Namjoon’s not unsteady on his feet, but he feels drunk anyway. Drunk, maybe, on the energy in the room – they’ve moved into the crowd, now that the performances on stage are starting to ramp up in quality and intensity. Seokjin’s still pressed into Namjoon’s side, although Namjoon’s been making sure of that personally. He doesn’t want to lose Seokjin in the crowd, wants to make sure he’s enjoying himself and feeling comfortable (as much as one can, mixed in with strangers who scream and yell for bigger and better things to come).

Hoseok fits right in with the crowd, and Namjoon knows this is the kind of thing that he won’t be able to ignore anymore. He has no doubts that Hoseok will be knocking down their door in the next few weeks, book of lyrics in hand and eager to make his play – the same way Namjoon had felt, all those years ago now.

Jungkook had already surprised Namjoon earlier that night, but it hasn’t dwindled as time passed. If Hoseok fits in like he was always meant to be here, then Jungkook fits in like he’s always been here. For someone that uploads mushy love song covers on the internet under a pseudonym, Jungkook sure does connect with the attitude of this place. Namjoon’s maybe a little jealous – his introduction to the underground had been awkward and unfulfilling, stuck in a weird limbo of trying to figure himself out.

The artist on stage drops the microphone as his performance ends – at a normal concert, people might’ve covered their ears as the speakers rang loud with feedback. Here, the crowd only screams louder. It’s not frenzied like the last stage Namjoon had been on, but there’s a certain understanding shared between everyone gathered. Perhaps not quite respect, but something close.

Someone new clambers up on the stage, scooping the microphone up – and if the second microphone already in his hand hadn’t clued Namjoon in, then Yoongi’s vice grip on his arm certainly does. Namjoon takes a deep breath, uncurling an arm to give Yoongi a heavy slap on the back in support.

Namjoon doesn’t even hear the words spoken; the eye contact with the man on-stage is enough, the nod they share to indicate that yes, this is happening.

Yoongi and Namjoon had practised, of course, but nothing compares to being up there in front of an audience. The music shifts and changes underneath you – Namjoon’s learnt that you either accept it, work with it, live and breathe it, or get eaten alive.

Long legs make it easier to hoist himself up onto the makeshift platform, creaking under his weight. Namjoon doesn’t wait to see how Yoongi fares, holding out a hand to heave his best friend up next to him. He’s imagined moments like this, but never been able to convince Yoongi to get up here with him.

And then, Namjoon’s turning to accept the pair of microphones from the organiser – and he feels like he jumps a mile high when the crowd roars in return. Turning so he faces the main section of the audience, the noise grows louder and more chaotic – and Namjoon realises: they know me. They know who I am.

His heart races with adrenaline, handing one of the microphones over to Yoongi and helping him get set up. There’s not much to it, but it’s better than standing there and trying to process that these people know him, they’re actually cheering for him like he’s a star or something. One last clap on Yoongi’s back, and they’re off.

(Namjoon’s kind of glad that there’s no waiting. He’s pretty sure Yoongi is about to pass out.)

 

~*~

 

Namjoon doesn’t remember much from the performance, rushing past in a hyped-up blur that ends too quickly. What he does remember:

Yoongi is too ing good, and Namjoon’s jealous. A total amateur, and yet he’d very clearly outclassed Namjoon in presence and vibe like he’d been in control of the stage his entire life. The first section of their song, the combined chorus, had been pre-recorded – for Namjoon, this had meant a moment to breathe and get in the moment, but also to encourage Yoongi to come out of his shell. It’s not like he’d never seen someone on this stage before, but Namjoon understands how different it feels to be up here yourself.

That first twenty seconds had been spent hyping up Yoongi. The next twenty, Namjoon’s first verse, had been spent giving his attention to the crowd that had gathered up against the stage – and showing Yoongi how to do the same. The final twenty of that first minute? Namjoon was left in utter ruin in the face of Yoongi’s raw ability to get the crowd hooked on his every move.

Namjoon is never, ever letting Yoongi say no to getting up on this stage again. He’d been holding out on them, hiding this intensity under a cloak of but I’m not good enough for too long. Screw Yoongi, this is the best thing that has ever happened to either one of them and he’s never letting Yoongi and his ridiculous people skills live that down.

He does catch the way Jimin stares up at Yoongi, and Namjoon thinks he might not be the only one who’s in total awe at this guy. Only, Namjoon’s not looking at Yoongi like that.

Besides, even if Namjoon did want to look at Yoongi like that (which he doesn’t, ew. Maybe once upon a time, but now he knows too much about Yoongi and all his gross existence), he doesn’t have time for it. No, his eyes are for one and one person only in the crowd.

He’d purposefully avoided eye contact with Seokjin the first time and yet now he can’t stop staring, like he’s trying to make up for lost time. Maybe it’s just because he’s so head over heels for this man that he’s really got nothing left to lose. Maybe it’s because Seokjin is looking at him the way Jimin looks at Yoongi, and it makes Namjoon feel wild and feral.

Wherever that line is, they’ve crossed it. It passes in Namjoon’s mind, briefly, that he could just be very stoned on second-hand smoke up here, but he struggles to care. Seokjin watches him with hunger, eyes never leaving Namjoon even when Yoongi is the main focus.

Namjoon knows he probably looks worse up here, never able to control himself when it comes to his music. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem – his songs for these kinds of stages are hard and rough, so getting angry and agitated makes sense. Now, it’s like baring his soul for Seokjin to consume like wildfire, and Namjoon has no plans on taking it back. Not yet, at least.

 

~*~

 

The night gets dirtier, more tangled, after Namjoon and Yoongi’s stage. The group disintegrates bit by bit, floating in and out as they find new things to occupy them and new places to be. Seokjin, of course, is still right in front of Namjoon – because despite the whole squad taking their own paths, where else would Seokjin be but alone with Namjoon?

They’re closer to the makeshift bar (which is actually just a handful of coolers packed to the brim with cans and bottles and managed by a couple of very drunk men), which at least means it’s a little quieter and not so cramped. It’s the small things.

“I don’t think I’ve tried it,” Seokjin muses, leaning back against the wall. “You don’t strike me as a ‘sweets’ kind of guy, though.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Namjoon replies – it’s meant to be a joke, but Seokjin looks at him with curious eyes that betray something else.

They haven’t talked about what happened back there, when Namjoon was up on stage. Namjoon’s not sure he wants to talk about it – isn’t it better to be left as a good memory, than have it torn apart by actual fact and logic?

“So, tell me something,” Seokjin says, eyeing Namjoon with a soft smile. Namjoon might not be interpreting this whole thing wrong after all.

“I-”

He barely gets to start his sentence before something – someone – cuts him off. The offender backs into Namjoon, stumbling drunkenly as he tries to correct himself, but it’s too late. An entire plastic cup of beer in his hand ends up drenching Namjoon side from the waist down, soaking through to his leg immediately.

“!” Namjoon curses. The man slurs out an apology, but that’s not even on Namjoon’s radar right now. “, take this,” he hisses, pulling everything from his pocket and shoving it into Seokjin’s hands without waiting for a reply. He can’t lose another phone, he’s already broken it so many times this year and his bank account is in ruins as it is.

“Here,” Seokjin says quickly, ing a wad of napkins towards Namjoon. Where he even got napkins from, in a place like this, Namjoon will never know. The damage is done, but he presses the thin paper to his pants anyway. He’s going to smell like cheap beer for the rest of the night, but it certainly could be worse.

“Thanks,” he says out loud, feeling the napkins dampen under his fingertips. “It’s always me, huh?”

Seokjin laughs. “You’re a magnet for trouble,” he teases. Namjoon grins up at him, already feeling better despite his leg being uncomfortably sticky and wet.

“Namjoon!”

He spins on his heel without thinking, grin widening when he recognises the person calling to him. “Jackson!”

“, man, it’s been forever,” Jackson says, pulling Namjoon into a hug. “Where’ve you been?”

Namjoon pulls back. “Like you can talk, I haven’t seen you get up there tonight,” he retorts lightly, gesturing towards the middle of the room. “You lost your touch?”

“Woah now, just cause you’re a big hotshot, you don’t have to go around bullying us little guys,” Jackson teases. “Come on, Mark and Lisa and Jennie and all that are here somewhere, you have to come say hi.”

Namjoon hesitates, glancing over his shoulder. He’s ready to bring Seokjin into it, throw his apologies for dragging him along, try and assimilate this group of friends into that group of friends, but he’s cut short by Seokjin throwing him a brilliant smile and waving him off.

“Go, I’ll be fine,” he says easily. “I’m going to find the others anyway, go have fun.”

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asks, but Seokjin laughs him off.

“I’m not incompetent, I’ll survive,” he answers cheerfully, turning to survey the crowd and find more company. Namjoon has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something stupid, like but I love you and want to make sure you’re safe and having a good time.

Instead, he settles on a farewell and an extracted promise that Seokjin will text him if he needs anything. Close enough, he decides.

(“Who was that?” Jackson asks in a lilting tone, leaning onto Namjoon’s arm as they wind through the crowd.

Namjoon laughs, flicking Jackson’s head. “Not what you’re thinking.”

“Holy , you must be crazy. I’m not gay but...damn, maybe.” Namjoon just laughs him off.)

 

~*~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~*~

 

Namjoon realises his mistake when he taps his pockets. He’s had his fun, he’s seen his people, and now he’s ready to go home – but Seokjin still has all his stuff, his phone, his keys, his wallet. Namjoon is drunk, too drunk, and he’s tired and his ears are ringing and he wants to go home.

It doesn’t matter too much. Namjoon has a sixth sense for hunting down Yoongi when it’s time for bed. It takes him, at most, three minutes before he’s collected Yoongi off the floor where he’s mingled with some other people Namjoon vaguely recognises. From there, finding the others is easy, digging his hands into Yoongi’s pockets until Namjoon finds what he’s after.

 

 

 

Namjoon finds Hoseok and Seokjin the quickest – mostly because they’re part of the enormous gathering off to the right of the stage, some kind of dance battle that Hoseok had started...and was apparently finishing, despite being drunk off his face. Namjoon taps Seokjin on the shoulder to get his attention, pulling him aside first.

“Can you keep an eye on him?” he asks, very aware that he’s probably slurring beyond recognition as he gestures to Yoongi, who looks like the living dead. “And grab Hoseok and meet me out the front? I have to go get the others.”

Seokjin nods, grabbing hold of Yoongi’s wrist and turning to try and drag Hoseok out of the circle. Namjoon has never appreciated Seokjin more right now.

“The is going on in here?” is the first thing out of Namjoon’s mouth when he enters the bathroom – which is very much designed to be a one-man restroom for a warehouse worker, and certainly not fit to house four grown men.

Jimin’s perched on the sink, precariously balanced as he holds his phone up to film whatever is going on with the other two. Taehyung’s throwing peace signs and horrible aegyo to the camera whilst simultaneously bunching Jungkook’s hair into his fist as the youngest hangs his head inside the toilet bowl.

“Smile, Namjoon~” Jimin says, turning the phone camera to point at Namjoon – who does as he’s told despite having no clue what’s happened. How long have they been in here?

“Like, half an hour,” Taehyung answers, Namjoon realising too late that he’s been speaking out loud. Jungkook cuts off any further conversation with an impressively threatening series of retching sounds, which just makes Jimin laugh even more.

“Is he okay to walk?” Namjoon asks warily, looking to Taehyung.

Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing’s coming up anymore, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Right, Kookie?”

Jungkook groans something unintelligible, swatting in Taehyung’s general direction without lifting his head. Taehyung has to scoot back to avoid the weak effort, sliding over the grimy floor that Namjoon couldn’t be paid to touch.

“Alright, let’s get our together and figure out what’s next then. The others are outside already.”

Jimin bounces off the sink, stumbling a little on unsteady feet. Taehyung hoists himself up, a little less gracefully, and slings his arms under Jungkook’s shoulders. “Come on, Kook, fresh air will do you good.”

Jungkook gives him a vague mumbling that sounds suspiciously like a you too.

 

~*~

 

“Jimin’s coming back with me,” Yoongi argues, pulling Jimin in close under his left arm.

Taehyung shakes his head viciously. “No way, I’m not leaving tiny-pretty-drunk Jimin with you, you’ll take advantage of him!”

“Taehyung, I’m his boyfriend,” Yoongi sighs back, trying to carefully pry Taehyung off Jimin’s arm. It does no good – Taehyung just cling harder, wrapping his entire body against Jimin’s left side. “I’m not going to take adv-”

“Then I’m coming with you,” Taehyung cuts in, pouting angrily.

“I really appreciate the vigilance, Taehyung, I really do, but he’ll be fine.”

“Besides, you can’t leave Jungkook,” Hoseok points out, shooting a wary look at Jungkook, barely upright against Taehyung’s free shoulder.

“Of course not, he’s coming with me!” Taehyung says like it was obvious the whole time. Namjoon supposes it probably was – they’re kind of a package deal at this point.

“I’m not leaving Tae,” Jimin says weakly, turning to loop his arms around Taehyung’s waist. Taehyung looks ecstatic, and Yoongi looks...defeated. .

Namjoon chuckles nervously. “At this rate, you should all just come back to ours,” he jokes half-heartedly.

 

~*~

 

It was a joke. A god damn joke.

“Hah, you lose!” Hoseok screeches, slamming himself into Yoongi and Namjoon’s couch to the sounds of Taehyung’s wailing, a fierce contest of Rock-Paper-Scissors coming to an end. “It’s the floor for you, es!”

Namjoon’s whole life is a joke.

“Blankets,” Yoongi announces, dumping the load in his arms onto Hoseok’s head. “Get comfortable.”

“I’ll help you guys get set up in the office,” Namjoon offers, giving Jungkook and Taehyung a shove in the direction of the hallway. “Just don’t vomit on my .”

“Me? Never,” Taehyung says easily, as they traipse down the hall. Namjoon points out the bathroom anyway – the colour has returned to Jungkook’s cheeks, but he’s not taking any chances.

“Are you sure you guys are okay sleeping in here?” Namjoon asks, watching Taehyung carefully arrange a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor like he’s done this a thousand times before.

“Sure, Jungkook will keep us warm,” he answers, settling down in the centre of his pile and patting the empty spot between his legs. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to flop forward, nestling in like the space was made for him – and it definitely is, given how easily Taehyung wraps his arms around his friend to tie them together.

“Yeah, okay, sure, whatever,” Namjoon says, backing out with his hands up. This is out of his pay grade. “My room is the one next door if you need anything.”

Back in the living area, everything is...quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The lights are turned down, Hoseok already fast asleep and snuggled up in the blankets on the couch. Yoongi and Jimin are nowhere to be seen, as expected, but Namjoon’s only just starting to realise that means-

“That just leaves you and I,” Seokjin says quietly, leaning against the countertop that separates kitchen from loungeroom. Hair messy and hanging over his face, shirt rumpled and untucked – oh .

“You can sleep with me,” Namjoon says without thinking. By the time he’s started to backtrack, Seokjin’s already laughing. “Well, no, not with me, in my bed – Seokjin, no, it’s not like that-”

Seokjin hushes him, holding out his hand for Namjoon to take – which Namjoon does, without hesitation, because he’s never denied Seokjin anything. “Take me to your bedroom,” he says softly, and Namjoon knows the flirtatious tone is a joke but he can’t help himself. Not when Seokjin’s looking at him like that.

 

~*~

 

Namjoon finally gets some good luck coming his way – he feels like he deserves some by now, at the very least. His bedroom is usually a nightmare, a warzone of clothing strewn across chairs and stacks of books lying open and unfinished in weird places. The books are still a problem, but Namjoon had done a washing load just a day ago and so at least there aren’t clothes covering every square inch of space. Thank-you, universe.

“These are in English,” Seokjin says quietly, peering at the mess on Namjoon’s desk. Mostly philosophy books at the moment. A couple of writing pads with notes and lyrics scrawled out in a rushed haze, pens scattered across the surface at random – most with little to no ink left. A pile of coats on the desk chair that Namjoon is yet to hang up.

“Translations don’t usually do it justice,” Namjoon answers softly, embarrassed. Seokjin probably thinks he’s the most boring person in the world, reading history and philosophy and biographies for fun.

Seokjin traces a finger down an open page – Kafka on the Shore, Namjoon recognises. He’d been reading back through it a few days earlier, pinpointing some ideas for new songs to write. “That one’s originally in Japanese, actually, so I guess some translations are okay?” Namjoon says awkwardly, shifting his feet against the carpet.

“Would you read something to me one day?” Seokjin asks, and it’s the last thing Namjoon had been expecting.

“Sure?” Namjoon answers. Seokjin drags his finger further down the page, even though he can’t possibly understand anything written there – Seokjin doesn’t know English, Namjoon’s sure of that much. He can't even process the request at this point, there's nothing in Namjoon's mind beyond the physically present.

Seokjin catches Namjoon off-guard when he spins around, casting away whatever weird energy had settled between them with a smile. “So, are you just going to sleep in those dirty clothes?”

Namjoon's proven wrong - there's at least one thing on his mind that isn't physically present (for the most part). "What?" he mumbles weakly, certain that he must've misunderstood.

Seokjin laughs, button already undone on his jeans as he starts to slide them off. His laughter only grows when Namjoon sputters and turns away, like there's any semblance of privacy left when they're about to sleep in the same bed. A million things rush through Namjoon's head at the speed of light, especially when he can make out the sound of Seokjin carefully pulling each leg free. oh god oh .

"What did you expect?" Seokjin asks, jeans snapping through the air as he shakes them out. "I'm not going to sleep in these clothes, they smell of smoke. Can I borrow a shirt?"

Namjoon doesn't have any words, so he focuses on the new task instead. Shirt shirt shirt. No other thoughts. Shirt only.

He pulls the first piece of clothing from his drawer that his hands come in contact with. It's all sleep clothes anyway, old shirts and sweatpants and the like, nothing too dangerous. He tosses the shirt towards Seokjin's general direction, twisting only slightly to ensure that no eye contact is made.

Seokjin, in his room, half-, wearing Namjoon's clothes, sleeping in Namjoon's bed, .

Namjoon's too drunk to be here, he has no inhibitions and every possibility to make the mistake of his life. Someone needs to collect him and take him home, he can't be left unsupervised like this. It's just plain irresponsible.

Seokjin's foot makes contact with the back of Namjoon's leg in a light kick. "Get undressed, I'm tired," he orders.

Namjoon sees two options. If he gets undressed and into appropriate pyjamas, he'll be clean(er) - but the next step after that is getting into bed with Seokjin. If he just stands here like a brainless idiot, he can delay the whole sleeping with Seokjin thing and just pretend he doesn't exist at all.

He opts for the first choice.

Once again, he finds himself eternally grateful to his past self for doing laundry - he's got a pair of light sweatpants to match with an old shirt that means only one of them will be half- in that bed, which is definitely a good thing. Namjoon's tired as hell and really just needs his sleep, and it'll be hard enough just with Seokjin existing in his vicinity, regardless of clothing status

"Oh, before I forget!" Seokjin says quickly, making Namjoon turn around. He's holding up his jeans again, digging through the pockets - but Namjoon doesn't care about that. What he does care about is Seokjin in his t-shirt. If Namjoon wasn't in love before, he certainly is now. Yoongi's going to chew him up for this one.

The shirt is a little big on Seokjin, just as it is on Namjoon - not that Namjoon is ever going to be able to wear that shirt again without bringing up this image in his mind. It hangs off his shoulders and reaches almost to mid-thigh - and oh god, the thighs. Namjoon's all about that anti-objectification, respectful gaze business, but he's never considered Seokjin's bare thighs on his list. Long, soft, smooth, what Namjoon wouldn't give to-

"Your stuff," Seokjin interrupts, pulling a few items from the pocket and setting them down on the edge of the desk. "Phone, keys, wallet...was there anything else?"

Namjoon wets his lips, staring blankly. "No," he answers, because what else would he have taken with him? Phone, keys, wallet – his usual checklist before leaving the apartment at any given moment, all the essentials to survive out there. Nothing else of major importance.

"Great! Time for bed," Seokjin says enthusiastically, dropping his jeans in a pile on the floor to climb over Namjoon's duvet and slip underneath the sheets. Namjoon has no choice but to follow - somehow, standing here and watching Seokjin get comfortable amongst the covers strikes Namjoon as a really ing bad idea.

When Namjoon's head hits the pillow, the exhaustion hits him like a truck. His eyes drift shut, focused on his breathing to make sure he doesn't accidentally have a heart attack in front of the love of his life; that seems like a sure fire way of freaking Seokjin out beyond repair.

Seokjin's soft laughter draws him out of his sleepy state. "Relax, would you?" He wriggles in closer, breathing soft and deep, and Namjoon short circuits entirely. "For warmth," Seokjin explains, like that helps Namjoon's situation at all.

Namjoon is in way over his head, but whatever. Sleep beckons, and being unconscious and totally unaware of the outside world sounds like a dream right now.

 

~*~

 

Namjoon wakes up first, very much sober and awake and alive. He's never been a wake-up-and-go kind of person - it usually takes Namjoon a good thirty minutes to work through that foggy head space before he's in any position to face the real world

Today might just be a Namjoon-record for time take to get out of bed. In the first thirty seconds after achieving consciousness, Namjoon tries to figure out where he is and why he thought drinking so much last night was a good idea. He hadn't bothered to shut the curtains last night, apparently, so it's probably some god-awful hour in the morning. Yoongi's never up before lunch on these kinds of days, so it's not like there's even a point for Namjoon to be awake right now.

A heavy thump against the wall outside Namjoon's room reminds him that's not entirely true.

"Oh ," Namjoon hisses, as his world simultaneously comes to reality while collapsing around him. He blinks rapidly to clear his vision, only to wish that he'd never had eyes at all. He's facing Seokjin, who is looking nothing less than pure angel descended from heaven - both on their sides and facing each other, Namjoon can register the faint rise and fall of Seokjin's shoulders. Still asleep.

They're not hugging or cuddling or anything - Namjoon's not sure if he's glad or in despair. It's not like cuddling can't be platonic; hell, Namjoon had seen Jungkook and Taehyung getting all snuggled up together last night.

Okay, Namjoon reasons, not my best defence, but still.

Namjoon is very aware, however, of Seokjin's bare feet entangled against Namjoon's calves. Aware of the soft warmth that radiates from Namjoon's legs where they meet Seokjin's. Aware of how perfect Seokjin looks, mouth slightly agape with his hair fanned out on the pillow underneath him. Under the warm rays of sun intruding through the uncovered window, Namjoon has to pause and wonder if this is just a dream.

Another crash outside reminds him that no, this is not a dream. Namjoon sparks into action, rolling away from Seokjin in a panic and hitting the ground on his hands and knees. He scrambles towards the door, only half-upright by the time he gets it open, and doesn't even stop to take in his surroundings as he slams it (quietly - Seokjin is sleeping and Namjoon's not a monster) behind him.

"Woah!" Hoseok says cheerfully, catching Namjoon's shoulders as they collide. "Good morning to you too!"

Namjoon takes a deep breath. "Seokjin's in my bed."

"Hell yeah!" Taehyung hoots as he walks past, heading away from the kitchen. He holds up a hand like a frat boy and Namjoon high fives him without question before realising what he's done. He blinks, all too aware that he probably looks like a blind fool right now.

Hoseok claps him on the shoulder comfortingly and gives him a pitying look. "Duh, of course he's in your bed."

Across from them, Yoongi sticks his head out from behind his bedroom door. "There's too many people in this ing apartment," he grumbles. It's somewhat true, although Namjoon doesn't think it's a negative thing. He's never seen their apartment with this much energy; it feels lived in.

Jungkook's the only one in the kitchen, seated at the bench on one of the two barstools with a bowl of cereal in front of him. His black hoodie is drawn up and over his head, shrouding his eyes from view as he stares down into the bowl of milk and soggy grain like it has all the answers.

(At this point, it very well might. Neither Namjoon nor Yoongi really eat cereal, so that box has been sitting in the pantry for a while longer than it should've. It could be sentient at this point, Namjoon never really knows.)

Jungkook raises his head when he enters, and Namjoon has to bite back a you look like . It's been a rough night on the both of them apparently - and suddenly, Namjoon sees Jungkook in a new light.

A look passes between them, one that Namjoon couldn't possibly communicate out loud if anyone asked and yet completely understands like he'd known this all his life - and really, he has. How long had he spent divulging all the gossip of his internet friends onto Yoongi over ty takeaway, keeping him updated on the devastation? Even now, when Yoongi has joined their group chat for himself, they both spend way too much time theorising and complaining over the pitiful love lives of their friends.

Namjoon and Yoongi know all about Taehyung's little crush on his best friend, the guy makes it way too obvious - but it's only now that Namjoon realises he's been watching the wrong person all along.

Seokjin in his bed, Seokjin curling up next to him, Seokjin breathing softly with his head on Namjoon’s pillow – it’s a special kind of hell, the kind that hurts but Namjoon never wants to leave. And now, a look from Jungkook that says hey, you’re not the only one who suffered like that last night.  

Namjoon feels for Jungkook, he really does, because he understands that kind of torture. No wonder Jungkook had been so willing to help Namjoon, seemingly in tune with all these emotions that Namjoon wasn't even sure how to explain himself. A look shared between them, not for the surface-level pain of gross hangovers but to scream I understand, I understand and feel it too.

It's an interesting turn of events, for sure. Jungkook can't see the whole picture for himself just yet, if their cover of Fools is anything to go by - but Namjoon can't help but think that they'll work it out soon. In the kitchen together, surrounded by the sounds of a full house and yet alone nevertheless, Jungkook looks dead – and Namjoon can't help but think: you'll be alright, kid.