Six of them sit down to dinner that night, but Hoseok makes sure Jungkook fills Namjoon’s bowl all the same, 

"He’s probably just running late," Yoongi mumbles into his rice.

Seokjin frowns, ”what’s he doing over there?”

Yoongi shrugs and they eat in silence. First Taehyung finishes, then Hoseok. By the time they’ve convinced Jimin to clean his plate forty five minutes have passed and Namjoon is no more present than he was when the table was laid. 

"Maybe someone should go get him," Seokjin checks his phone for the umpteenth time and is ever more disappointed to find that he has no new messages. 

Hoseok and Yoongi trade looks. 

Seokjin glaces between the pair of them, “what?”

Hoseok sighs, “Namjoon doesn’t like being disturbed.”

"He’s been in the studio for almost six hours now,"

"I know but-"

"That’s not healthy."

"He really won’t-"

"This is the third night in a row!"

"He’s working!" Yoongi snaps, 

"Well he’s working too hard."

"He’s working exactly as hard as he needs to. No hyeong listen to me," Yoongi holds up a finger to silence Seokjin before he can get a word in edgeways, "Namjoon’s not an idiot, he’s not going to go skipping meals unless he’s onto something. I don’t expect you to ‘get it’ or whatever but trust me when I tell you that when Namjoon’s in the zone you want to leave him there."

"That’s putting it mildly," Hoseok grunts with a pointed glance in Seokjin’s direction, "I know you worry about his health but if you have any concern for your own you’ll leave him alone hyeong."

Seokjin slumps back against the couch and pouts at the ceiling. He can feel Yoongi and Hoseok frozen next to him, waiting for a reaction. His eyes dash from the clock on the DVD player, to his shoes sitting by the door, to the dark city skies outside the window. 

"I’m going to go get him."

Yoongi and Hoseok groan in unison, “your funeral,” they chorus as Seokjin throws his coat around his shoulders and slips out the door.



The lights of the studio are still on even when Seokjin stumbles into the lobby sometime past midnight. He should be used to it by now but even after months of training and promoting he still finds himself stunned by how little sleep the idol industry gets as a whole. He walks the corridors and hears Hobeom laughing loudly over a late night manager meeting, trainees struggling to hold their high notes in vocal practice and the familiar thumping bass of Jinhee’s favourite warm up track. 

There’s so much noise, so much life. And this is what passes for peace and quiet these days. 

He knows exactly where Namjoon will be. The dim lighting of the Bangtan Room is too soporific for late night work and the board room too stagnant, but there’s a balcony on the third floor that offers something of a decent view and Seokjin knows that Namjoon prefers the choked roar of distant traffic to the buzzing hive of human life inside the studio as a backdrop to his turbulent creativity. 

Seokjin opens the door a crack and peeks outside. Sure enough, Namjoon is sat on the swivel chair from Donghyuk’s mixing room staring blankly at a pad of paper before him. 

"Hey," Namjoon looks up long enough to take in Seokjin’s face before planting his eyes firmly back on the page.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too Namjoonie,"

"Please don’t start that ‘Namjoonie’ bull hyeong I’m not in the mood."

"What’s got you so grumpy?"

"I’m working."

Seokjin closes the door behind him and wanders over to peer over Namjoon’s shoulder. The paper is completely blank. 

"Going well then?" Seokjin smiles

"Oh off," Namjoon throws the pad to the ground and Seokjin sees a vein in his neck pop.

"Oh off hyeong,” Seokjin amends, ignoring Namjoon’s answering growl.

"Did you come all the way out here just to piss me off because if you did-"

"You weren’t at dinner tonight, I thought you might be hungry."

Seokjin keeps smiling at Namjoon, even as the younger’s face descends through layers of frustration, confusion and irritation. He knows it’s unnerving and that Namjoon’s never worked out how to get angry with someone who won’t get angry back.

"I got something from the corner shop," Namjoon finally managers, indignance sounding forced. 

"Sounds delicious,"

"Don’t bother with the sarcasm hyeong it doesn’t suit you."

Namjoon falls into sulky silence and stares out at the skyline. Seokjin reaches into his coat pocket and is relieved to find the ultimate diet-plan excluded indulgence waiting for him. 

At the sound of the lighter, Namjoon’s head whips round,

"You shouldn’t be smoking," he hisses, but Seokjin knows the lines of his face too well and the exagerated creasing of his brow is all too obvious. Namjoon’s eyes linger on the cigarette and his nostrils flare excitedly as Seokjin blows smoke into his face,

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"I’m the leader, you have to listen to me,"

"Ah but I’m you’re hyeong. Pretty sure that means you have to listen to me,"

"Leadership outranks age."

"Don’t go disrespecting your elders kid"

Namjoon glowers, “I’m not a kid grandpa.”

Seokjin snorts with laughter and smoke billows from his nose, “you know, Hoseok and Yoongi told me that you’d hulk out if i disturbed you, I must say I’m a little disappointed, you’re the same sulky I’ve met in dance practice.”

Namjoon says nothing.

"I didn’t come here to pick a fight with you Namjoon," Seokjin sighs

"You could have fooled me."

"I just think that you could use some time away from this place. Let’s go eat or something, get a couple of drinks."

"I need to work,"

"The paper’s blank Namjoon," Seokjin rests a hand on his shoulder and gestures to the pad of paper lying empty and forlorn on the floor. "You’re stagnating out here. Lets just get on the subway and get out of here."

"And if I say no?"

Seokjin smirks, “then I won’t share the rest of this with you.”

He’s barely gotten the words out of his mouth before Namjoon has vaulted out of his chair and snatched the cigarette from between Seokjin’s lips. He brings it to his mouth and breathes deep,

"Alright, but you’re paying."

Seokjin cuffs him on the back of the head, “I thought you said leadership outranks age,”

"You’ve got it wrong grandpa," the beginnings of a smile tease the corners of Namjoon’s mouth as he carefully and deliberately breathes smoke into Seokjin’s eyes, "you’re the responsible one here. I don’t think I could feed myself without you."

And Seokjin can’t say anything to that, because much as the hole preemptively burning itself into his pocket is deeply irritating, he has to admit that Namjoon has a point.