The annoying trill of Nam Joon’s phone penetrated through the blankets covering Seokjin. It bothered him enough that he disentangled himself from the sheets and grabbed it. He couldn’t answer it, but he still glare menacingly at the offending object. The ringing stopped, only to vibrate a minute later. This Seokjin could answer. He leaned over the side of the bed and felt around the floor, putting on the first shirt he found. It was Nam Joon’s shirt, a white button up, wrinkled, that Seokjin didn’t bother putting on all of the way. He should clear out one of the drawers and fill it with his clothes, or maybe empty half of the closet. Nam Joon didn’t need all of that space.

“Joonie, Yoongi sent you a message.”

“What does it say?” Nam Joon’s voice was distorted by the shower water.

“He says dinner is at 6. Don’t be late.”

“I know that.”

Seokjin closed out of the message and opened up the contact list. Nam Joon’s dad was listed as Satan, his grandfather as Lucifer. Nam Joon ignored their messages often.

The light filtered through the blinds, giving the room a nice glow that reflected off of the white walls and furniture. Some old band posters in bright obnoxious colors were pinned to the walls to break the uniformity. A reminder of a culture that doesn’t exist anymore, now that the government controls all of the radio stations, and monitors production of all materials. Even Nam Joon’s apartment building had its approved by the government before the building could be erected. It was a simple block building in the Enamel, one of many.

Seokjin smelled the sleeve of the shirt. His nose scrunched up. He ignored the smell and continued scrolling through the contact list.

Nam Joon came out of the bathroom, shirtless, and running a towel through his hair. “What are you doing?” he asked as he sat next to Seokjin on the bed.

“Why is my number under the name ‘Rose’,” Seokjin asked.

Nam Joon hid his face behind the towel, “because when I bite your neck, the bruises look like roses trailing down your skin.”

Seokjin smiled, “You’re taking the wrong classes. You should become a writer, or a poet, or maybe even create lyrics for songs.”

“That would be easy,” Nam Joon sat across from Seokjin and kissed his forehead, “as long as I have you. You’re my inspiration.”

“Don’t be cheesy,” Seokjin teased.

“But it’s true,” Nam Joon kissed his nose, “I could write a whole book about you, Jinnie. And use ten pages of it just to describe your smile. And then another ten pages for your eyes, and how when I look in them I see infinity. I see years passing by us and cities being burned while new buildings are built on top of their ashes. And I’m not scared. Forever doesn’t scare me, not if you’re living it with me.”

Seokjin felt his face heat up. He broke away from Nam Joon’s gaze and intertwined their hands, “What else would you write?”

“I could spend forever writing about your hands. I would describe every wrinkle, every gesture, and how you play with them when you’re bored of a conversation. And how they wake me up in the morning, when you brush my hair out of my face,” Nam Joon  pulled Seokjin’s right hand and kissed the black ink circle on the back of it, Seokjin lightly brushed the matching circle Nam Joon had on his hand, “Or how, when we kiss, you’ll curl your hand behind my head and scratch the soft part right above my neck, and how that feels like heaven.”

Seokjin laughed before leaning in to give him a chaste kiss.

“God, your lips deserve their own book. They’re never chapped, even though you them all the time, especially when you’re nervous. And when I’m lost in my thoughts, you’ll kiss my forehead and bring me back to reality. And then when we kiss, I can hear a full orchestra in the back of my head, playing in rhythm with our mouths. And I’ll describe how your lips look like sin when they’re wrapped around-”

“Nope,” Seokjin placed a finger over Nam Joon’s lips, “this book is PG 13, small children could be reading it, you can’t write about that.”

Nam Joon smiled and kissed the finger before wrapping his arms around Seokjin’s waist and pulling him closer. “Why not, that’s one of the fun parts. When it’s early, and we just woke up, and have no plans so we stay in bed and have lazy all morning.”

“That is definitely not going in the book,” Seokjin laughed.

“Then I’ll write another book, one that isn’t for children,” he buried his face in Seokjin’s neck, “And it will be about vanilla in the morning, and heated passionate at night, and spontaneous on the kitchen counter and s in the shower.”

“Your writing privileges are revoked!” Seokjin shoved Nam Joon away while laughing, “Go back to your econ books and learn about how to run a company.”

Nam Joon started to laugh but it faded before reaching full potential.

Seokjin broke his gaze away.

“I would give it up if I could. You know that right?”

“Don’t make empty promises.”

“But I don’t want them to be empty. You know that I would choose you over my grandfather’s company, and we would spend our days as poor writers in one of the southern cities.”

Seokjin nodded, he rubbed at his forearm, where the barcode tattoo would be if the shirt wasn’t covering it. Nam Joon intertwined their right hands, thumb covering over the black dot on Seokjin’s hand, “You know I love you right?”

“I know. I keep waiting for the day you say it was all a lie.”

“But I wouldn’t mean it. I would still love you, even if I’m engaged to someone else.”

“That’s not an if, that’s a when,” Seokjin met his gaze, his eyes watering, “One of these days, you’re going to grow up and realize you can’t keep me forever. Your lover can’t be a plebeian.”

Nam Joon leaned in, their foreheads touched, “You’re more than a plebeian. I wish you were born an Elite. I would give you the life you deserve.”

 “You’ve given me more than enough,” Seokjin half smiled, Nam Joon’s hands loosened, Seokjin continued, “Go get dressed, you’re going to be late.”

“Can I wear this shirt,” Nam Joon tugged on the white button up Seokjin wore.

“Nope, it smells gross.”

“It probably smells like you by now.”

“I don’t smell gross,” Seokjin pouted.

Nam Joon kissed that pout, “Nope, you smell like heaven.”

He stole another kiss before getting off the bed and searching through his closet.

Later, when Nam Joon was dressed in a black shirt and slacks and Seokjin found a pair of Nam Joon’s old jeans with a slim waist and was putting on one of his sweaters, Nam Joon asked, “If you wrote a book about me, what would it say?”

Seokjin grabbed a silver tie from the closet and wrapped it around Nam Joon’s neck, “Once upon a time, there was a fool named Nam Joon. He was born rich and lived an easy life. Then one day, he decided to it up by falling in love with a slum rat, who had a number on his arm so that no one would doubt his status as a slum rat.”

Nam Joon smiled.

Seokjin continued knotting the tie, “But the slum rat didn’t complain. In fact he felt guilty. Because this fool would give him gifts of strawberries and cheesecakes and flashy jewelry. And when the fool smiled he had a dimple on each cheek which the slum rat loved. So he stayed selfish, and did everything he could to stay pretty, so that fool wouldn’t see the rat beneath the light hair and pale skin.”

He smoothed out the collar.

Nam Joon rested his hands on Seokjin’s hips, “How does it end?”

Seokjin his lips, “One day the fool saw the slum rat for what he truly was. And left him in the gutter where he was found, so the fool could continue living his perfect little life.”

Nam Joon shook his head, “No, this is my story. So the fool kisses the slum rat, and the slum rat realizes that he is actually a handsome princess. And they have on the fool’s incredibly soft bed every day for the rest of their lives. And they live Happily Ever After.”

Seokjin smiled. He looked back up at Nam Joon, “If only.”

“It’s reality,” Nam Joon pulled him closer so that he could kiss Seokjin properly. So that he could into his mouth and feel Seokjin arch against him. Seokjin broke the kiss, too soon for Nam Joon’s liking.

“Dinner, with Yoongi’s family, remember? You’re going to be late.”

Nam Joon groaned, “Can’t I just stay here?”

“Nope. You promised.” Seokjin tugged on his hand and led him to the door.

“But that’s boring. I should just stay home and we can watch dumb movies and pretend there’s a sun behind the green smog of the city.”

Seokjin helped Nam Joon put on his jacket, “Be a good boy at dinner tonight. And I’ll do whatever you want when you get back.”

Nam Joon quickly buttoned up his jacket, “I’ll be home early.”

Seokjin scoffed, “Not if you want to make a good impression.”

Nam Joon stole one more kiss.

And then another

And Seokjin had to close the door on him before he leaned in for a fourth, because if he didn’t leave at that moment he was definitely going to be late.

Seokjin leaned his against the door, hearing the last of Nam Joon’s footsteps trail down the hall. He tugged on the sweater sleeve, revealing the barcode tattoo underneath. He glared at it, then sighed and covered it back up. The fabric of the sweater was soft beneath his fingers and smelled of Nam Joon’s cologne.

Surprise! Happy Valentine's Day!! ^_^