Chapter 11: Studio

The studio always feels heavy as if all the air is concentrated in this one area. He exhales loudly for the billionth time, dramatically finishes clicking the mouse and whirls around in his chair.

"Are you really just going to sit there?" Yoongi asks impatiently.

I look up from a stain on the carpet between my feet. I nod coherently. 
"There's nothing to do at home," I grumble. I throw my back against the seat, just in case he has any plans to quite literally drag me out again. I've honestly been non-stop thinking of Hoseok.

Yoongi crosses his arms and pushes back against his chair. It rolls for a second before tapping on the computer table and coming to a halt.
"Do you need something?" he asks monotonously.

I smirk, "No—" He raises a brow. I cough into my fist and straighten up. He waits expectantly. 

"How are you?" I choke awkwardly.

He sneers and flails a hand. "Cut the crap, what is it?"

I purse my lips. "I need your advice," I mumble. I never like asking him because he likes to get cocky and use the favour against me later.

He raises a brow. His pride breaks through the heavy air as he nods and presses me to continue.

"With Hoseok," I pause and think. His eyes stare at me patiently, yet the patience feels like pressure. I look down at my palms and trace the lines. I'm unsure where to start and how to ask. I'm not even sure what I want to ask.

"How am I supposed to feel?" I blurt. I look back up and Yoongi's already in deep thought. He makes it somewhat overly dramatic and sarcastic at first but gradually sinks into his chair as the answer weighs down on him.

After seeing Hoseok a few days ago I was began to think— 'would it be okay to play oblivious to the past?' 'is it wrong to be happy?' 'is it wrong to pretend the familiar is unfamiliar?' 'is it wrong to fall for another version of him?' Questions pile up and I can no longer tell apart guilt from pleasure or lust from love. 

I fiddle with the necklace he gave me. My fingers run over the tiny little hearts, his words echoing as I strum the gaps between them. I can still remember how gently his lips touched my forehead and the way his thumb the back of my hand in the elevator. I purse my lips to stop myself from flushing.

Yoongi leans over his knees and nods, looking at me between tuffs of hair. He looks serious. He clasps his hands and opens his mouth.

"I don't know."

My face immidiately curls. I hurl a cushion to his face. He easily catches it, snickering like he does when we play opposite teams in basketball and he manages to catch my pass—which is far too often. 

He rests the cushion on his lap, relaxes into his seat and takes in a deep breath. He exhales.

"Just act however you feel is right in the moment," he says softly. I'm slightly taken aback by his seriousness.

He stares at the ceiling. I look up. I expect to see something—anything. I imagine stars, bright points speckling a dark entirety yet the ceiling is plain and the only light is that of a bulb. It's expected but I'm disappointed and bitter.

"Has there been news from the doctors?" I ask, still looking up.

He shakes his head, "Nothing new."

I sigh though I don't know if it's out of disappointment or relief. Several minutes pass as we stare in silence, boreing holes into the celing. 

"Are you happy?"

I glance up at him. The question comes as a surprise and I have to take a moment to think. I miss every bit of the Hoseok I know but I can't deny the butterflies in my stomach. I swallow and nod uncertainly.

Yoongi smiles, "That's good," he says warmly.

Our eyes shift around the room. He sighs loudly and scratches the back of his head. My mind wanders. He turns back to his computer and minimizes the song he's currently composing.

"Have you talked to Namjoon lately?" he asks as he opens a new window. I watch curiously as he scrolls through their fancafe.

"No, not really," I admit, "I have a feeling I've done something wrong but I don't know what."

I hear him snort in response.

"What?" I pout as I ready myself for an insult.

"You not knowing is the problem," he   replies smugly, "Poor guy." He clicks his tongue as he looks through comments to the other members' posts. "It's hopeless though, now that you're happy," he nods in agreement with himself, "Yeah, that's probably why he's upset."

I furrow my brows, unsure whether he's talking to me or trailing off to his own thoughts like he does. I nod and hum as I think about other things.

"I wonder if he forgot my birthday," I mumble under my breath. I was happy that day but was expecting a message from Namjoon like he usually does. I reasoned that they were just busy but he always made time every other year so I became anxious.

Yoongi stops chattering. I only notice he was still talking after we experience a slice of silence.

"Oh," he exclaims unsurely, "Happy birthday."

I frown, "You're late," I complain.

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head as he continues to read comments. "Belated then."

"Thanks," I say, mocking his drunken tone.

I look around the studio as he browses the fancafe. There's a few new things on the wall since last time I visited which was before the accident. There's posters, boards, photos and a small whiteboard smeared with different coloured markers.

I don't know why but my mind never ceases to stop spewing out deep thoughts and emotions when locked in this room; maybe it's because it's so small that unheard things repeatedly echo until they are yelling; or maybe it's because the atmosphere is so thick that it squeezes you until the room is flooded with emotions; or maybe it's beacuse all the song writing and composing leaves traces of unused emotion that build up over time. Whatever it is, before I'm able to come to a concise conclusion a gasp of cooler air enters the room.

Both of us turn. I look up to find Namjoon looking quite as stunned as I am.

"Namjoon," I blurt in shock.

He blinks and swallows as the door clicks behind him. His eyes don't meet mine. "Yeah," he hums, "I mean, hey." 

He hastily changes his attention to Yoongi before I can ask how he is. "Are you in the middle of something?" he asks.

"Nah, I'm done for the day," he says as he pulls out his usb and logs off. He gets up from the seat and walks towards him. "You can have it," he says, gesturing to the computer. They swap places. 

Yoongi puts a hand to the door. "I'll be leaving first then," he says. He gives me a look as if to say 'make up with him.'

I roll my eyes but he just snorts and messes my hair. "I'll treat you next time to make up for your birthday," he promises. The door opens and we all exchange goodbyes for a moment before it clicks close again.

Namjoon doesn't turn from the computer nor does he say anything. I can only hear the tapping and clicking from his side of the room and the weird noise the couch makes as I readjust in my seat. 

Unlike the comfortable silence between Yoongi and I, where we can go about our own things without knowing we aren't ignoring one another, this silence is different. This silence is eerie, awkward and unsettling. I have only recently familiarised myself with it, it isn't an atmosphere I used to associate with Namjoon. Namjoon and I used to be good around each other, when did it turn into this?

"It—it's been awhile," I stammer.

He glances over his shoulder then turns back to the screen.

"You visited a few weeks ago," he says bluntly, "It hasn't been that long."

"It's felt pretty long," I mumble. He either doesn't hear me or choses not to respond. The silence is filled with him alternating between clicking, tapping and writing.

I frown. "It was my birthday on Saturday." I felt the need to tell him.

He hums and doesn't stop what he's doing or even bothers to sacrifice me a glance. "Happy birthday," he replies blandly. 

I feel no need to say anything else and so I let the silence haul itself into the room. It fills my ears with it's dragged out droning.

"Kim Namjoon," I mutter under my breath after a good minute-- I don't have anything planned to say though. He doesn't respond. I repeat myself, this time louder but am only replied by a tiny echo of myself.

I swallow an urge to yell or cry, I can't tell apart my emotions recently. "What's happened?" I squeak. 

He stops writing and finally decides to respond. He steadily spins in his chair to face me. His eyes draw lines on the floor before scrawling up to my face. He purses his lips and sighs. 

"It doesn't concern you."

I furrow my brows. "It certainly does," I scoff.

He lifts a brow and snorts softly. He turns his attention back to the computer screen.

I press my lips into a line and swallow whatever pride I have clutching my dry throat. I don't want our friendship to become sour without knowing the reason. "Tell me what I did wrong— I'll make it up to you!" I feel like I'm pleading.

He doesn't turn. "It's not possible," he chuckles bitterly.

I lift a brow. His tone sounds sarcastic and pulled. "Tell me what you want!" I insist.

There's a pause. He slowly spins in his chair and leans back. He stares me in the eyes, it feels like forever since he has.
"Do you really want to know?" 

His gaze doesn't waver. His eyes are locked onto mine and I force myself not to look away.

"Yes," I reply firmly, "what is it?"

His eyes speak languages I've never heard but the words are unmoving and definite.

"You."

A/N: well that went from fluff to angst-ish real suddenly. thought I should remind you that there are other characters ;;; I wrote this before chapter 10 so I think the flow ain't all that great but I really like this chapter and wanted to not progress with hoseok x ahri too quickly

also 'hello new readers! I see you!' I suddenly got more subs :')