Seokjin has to shave twice a day to look ‘presentable’ as he would call it. To begin with they all thought that he was making bull excuses to score himself twice as much bathroom time as anybody else but after refusing him primping time on one hectic day too many, they conclude that he’s not lying and the dark shadow on his upper lip is in fact the real deal.

Namjoon watches him shave sometimes, standing in the doorway to the bathroom keeping half an eye on the Seokjin in the mirror as he stretches his philithrum and runs the razor delicately over his pale skin and focusing the rest of his attention on the real thing. There’s a careful elegance to the procedure that’s only present in the precise hunch of Seokjin’s shoulders, the very particular way in which every muscle bar those he deems absolutely necessary goes completely still as he reaches into the more complex crevices of his face – Namjoon is captivated.

It’s not that Namjoon never needs to shave, far from it, but the person he sees in the mirror when he does so scrapes the plastic handle of the razor across his cheeks and upper lip and comes out clean shaven more by chance than anything else, whilst Seokjin can run blades across his jugular without drawing blood and make every single look like the most deliberate of actions.

“It’s just practice,” he giggles into Namjoon’s shoulder. First thing in the morning, three days into a well-earned week off with three days of stubble gracing his chin and Namjoon decides that he likes him like this.

And so he kisses Seokjin, once, twice, more than he needs to. Enjoys the prickle of the hairs beneath his lips whilst they’re still there to feel, runs curious hands along Seokjin’s cheeks and laughs at his reflection when a pale pink rash appears on his cheeks.

Seokjin frowns when he sees it and reaches almost instantly for his razor. Namjoon’s fingers close on his wrist, asking not telling, but asking properly.

“It’s fine, I like it,” he breathes, and Seokjin kisses him hard enough to see stars.