Archive of Our Own

Namjoon ran his hands through his hair, once, twice, before putting his cap back on. The  nights were definitely cooler at the villa and he was enjoying the soft ocean breeze on the back patio, the smell of chlorine from the pool wafting his way.

They had all been here for a few weeks now, and is hair was in that weird in-between phase of being too short to do anything with but too long to actually manage neatly day to day. Most of them had hats on these days as their hair grew out. He was still deciding what he actually wanted to do with it going forward when it came time for promotions and shoots and well, everything else. He did know the feeling of it touching his neck was driving him insane.

“Oh, hyung? How long have you been out here?”

Namjoon glanced up to see Jungkook edging out of the door, closing it behind him. He wore a lot of black these days and today was no exception. Head to toe with his own hat pulled over his head, equally dark eyes peering under the brim.

“Half hour or so? Have we decided on dinner?”

“Jin hyung wanted to cook but he won’t let me help so I left,” he said with a small giggle, sitting in the chair opposite Namjoon, shifting his weight. Namjoon knew he’d not sit still in the chair at all anyways until he pulled his phone out.

Namjoon studied him a bit in the evening sun, the breeze coming again and making him shudder. Jungkook had been, to his slight surprise, gravitating towards him a bit since they’d arrived in LA. He had expected him to be glued to Jimin or Jin once he arrived. But even once Jin had settled in, a bit aimless and sleepy, in the evenings he continually sought out Namjoon. For no specific reason either, though sequestering himself on the patio alone had been a sort of unconscious test to see if Jungkook would still come looking for him or not.

Weird, he thought, watching Jungkook silently study the setting sun with a squint before inevitably pulling out his phone.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, trying to force his tone into jest, “are you following me?”

Jungkook blinked up at him, face serious and Namjoon regretted asking. “Oh, did you want to be alone?” He moved to get up and Namjoon sighed, grabbing his sleeve and pushing him back in his chair.

“No,” he said with a laugh, honestly. Seeing Jungkook’s opening, questioning look he added, “I just noticed you tend to find me in the evenings.”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied with an infinitesimally small smile. “I missed you.”

Disarmed, Namjoon laughed as a reflex. This type of thing was new. Jungkook simply saying and doing whatever he wanted, blunt and direct. Still shy, always honest. He was definitely getting used to it. Navigating an older, wiser Jungkook. Jungkook who was happy to be around the six of them no matter what. Not wasting a single precious second now that they were all together again. Jungkook who, Namjoon suspected, didn’t care what music they put out on the album, what they did or did not dance to on tour. Jungkook, who was just happy to exist within Bangtan once more.

“I missed you too,” he said truthfully, gratified when the younger man grinned at him, going back to his phone.

-

“Is he asleep?”

“I don’t know, nudge him.”

“He’s like, dead weight, he’s asleep.”

“Good. I don’t think he’s slept in days.”

Namjoon was not asleep. But his eyes were closed and the entire half of his left side was leaning heavily against Taehyung’s right side and he was more comfortable than he’d been in…months? Not worth thinking about. He was not asleep but it was close enough.

“He’s breathing like he’s asleep,” Jin’s voice came, quieter now, gentle and it made him want to cry for some reason. “Taehyungie, isn’t your arm numb?”

“No, no. I’m fine,” Taehyung’s low voice rumbled against him. “Let him sleep.”

There was a quiet lull in conversation, the sound of videos on phones dim in the lounge room. Murmurs here and there.

“Do you think,” Jimin’s voice was so quiet Namjoon could barely hear the whisper of it, “he’s a bit more affectionate than he used to be?”

There was another pause, like a noncommittal noise of agreement from Jin or Hobi maybe. Namjoon knew this was not meant with ill intent, that Jimin himself would ask him the same thing if he were awake. It still shifted something in him. Had they noticed, was he that obviously more touchy with everyone? Had he been that cold beforehand? He felt himself spiraling a bit, struggling to keep his breathing even, his face impassive.

Jungkook’s voice, a bit louder broke through. Simple and direct: “I just think…he really missed us.”

Somehow that slight pause between the sentence covered everything.

And Namjoon knew in that moment that Jungkook too, had laid awake at night staring at the ceiling, counting down days and hours. Struggling in the complete and total darkness. Missing Seoul noises. Missing the members so badly it actually hurt trying to take a breath sometimes.

He remembered when Jin had been discharged, and Jungkook’s face, always and forever Jungkook’s face, just peering up at him. Hair still too short, his pale beautiful face blotched red with tears. The dark terrible circles under his eyes like a morbid window sill for the tears that just kept coming, wouldn’t stop, could barely catch a breath as he spoke. Jimin’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing, face also wet because when Jungkook cried they all did.

“Hyung, please, please. You have to try harder to keep us all together, okay? We have to stay together.”

And he had. He had scraped together every last shred of mental energy he could to do so. He could not ever see Jungkook cry like that again.

The other members, now all agreed quietly, either half listening or still eating. But Namjoon had heard.

And eventually, he did fall asleep just like that. His hood up over his head, squished against a very warm Taehyung. Their voices lulling him to sleep. Their presence a comforting and solid orbit around him.

-

“Hyung? It’s late, why don’t you go to bed?”

Namjoon blinked up, eyes adjusting in the darkness to see Jungkook staring down at him, mouth in a thin line of concern. Everyone was gone and he was alone on the couch, arms folded firmly in front of him like he was in a coffin.

“Sorry to wake you,” Jungkook continued, voice regretful, “Jin hyung told me to leave you but your neck’s all bent, you looked uncomfortable.”

He was. He got up, feeling groggy, a little bewildered he’d fallen asleep on the couch with six chattering people around him much less at all. “That’s okay, thank you,” he mumbled, squinting around as he stood unsteadily. Had Jungkook been here this whole time, or had he come back to check on him? His gaze slid to him as they moved through the villa quietly, the halls dark.

“Hrm,” came Jungkook’s voice as he stopped so abruptly, Namjoon shuffled into him and bounced. “I forgot where my room is,” he said with a soft laugh which he couldn’t help but return.

“It’s unnecessarily big in here,” Namjoon muttered as he turned a corner and pointed. “Mine is right down there so yours is here.”

Jungkook laughed and muttered his thanks, turning. He paused briefly and turned to look back at Namjoon. “Are you still sleepy?”

Yes, he was. He also knew he was about to go lay down in the dark and stare at either the ceiling or his phone or his book until 3 am where he would get maybe an additional restless hour of sleep before having to get up and go to the studio.

“No,” he said, unable to explain why “sleepy” to him meant something else to others.

“Come watch a movie with me?” Jungkook asked and the way he asked was so endearing he had to smile. As if Namjoon was going to say no. As if he didn’t want to be alone with him. New, new, new. “Kpop Demon Hunters?” He asked with a little breath of a laugh.

“Again? Okay,” Namjoon was smiling too and followed Jungkook to his room where he turned the light on.

“You haven’t seen it yet!” Abruptly, he watched him kick something under his bed. Was it red? Namjoon figured it was underwear even though Jungkook was fastidious about packing and organizing his clothing. Most things were still folded in his open suitcases in the middle of the floor.

Namjoon stepped over both suitcases and climbed over to the side of the bed Jungkook wasn’t currently occupying. He felt a little out of place suddenly. 11 pm and alone with Jungkook in his room, sharing his bed while they watched a movie together. He couldn’t pinpoint when last the scenario had occurred.

It hadn’t. Because you hate sharing a bed.

Jungkook was sitting with one leg up and one leg down, scrolling through Netflix until he found it. “Should we watch it in English? Augh, no, let’s not,” he muttered, eyes on the tv, but making Namjoon smile again, fond.

Suddenly something occurred to him and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to let it go unless he asked. “Jungkook-ah? Do you check on me at night because I don’t sleep?”

Startled, Jungkook glanced at him, dark eyes wide and visible without his hat on. He didn’t answer right away as he started the movie, worrying his lip ring as if anxious. This gave plenty of time for Namjoon to start to regret he asked.

“Yes,” he said finally, not looking at him, maybe still a little shy then, even at 27 and with Namjoon who he’d known for almost half his life. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone.”

Anymore, Namjoon could hear, unsaid at the end. He swallowed against the emotion. A flare up of not-good-enough and even-the-youngest-has-to-look-out-for-you for good measure. He took a breath and squished them both away. He took another breath and looked at Jungkook who was looking at him now as the movie began.

“Thank you,” he started, wondered if he should end it there. Jungkook smiled, real and soft. “Thank you for worrying about me,” he added and to his surprise, the younger man reached out and touched his hand with a few fingers, careful, tap tap, before withdrawing and settling down onto the bed.

“Always, Hyung.”

-

When Namjoon awoke the next morning, early morning judging from how dim the light still was, there wasn’t that moment of confusion wondering where he was or what time he fell asleep. Mainly because as soon as he opened his eyes he was greeted with Jungkook’s sleeping face a foot away from his, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. One hand was under his face and the other stretched out, fingers curled around Namjoon’s own.

Trying in vain not to panic, he stared, hard at their hands. His palm was open, the back of his hand resting on the bed, Jungkook’s fingers intertwined, loose with this.

He had fallen asleep somewhere in between “Free” and “What It Sounds Like”, he knew. Had he somehow fallen asleep holding Jungkook’s hand? Had Jungkook reached for him in his sleep and Namjoon and just unconsciously reciprocated. Also, why was he panicking?

He glanced up again at his maknae’s sleeping face, his eyebrows drawn together, and swallowed. Definitely one of the best faces in Korea, even half snoring.

He took another breath and shifted slightly to roll out of the bed, freezing when Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open at the movement. Namjoon could feel their fingers brush again and felt an involuntary tug in his chest as Jungkook blinked at him. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, having zero idea how to proceed, feeling especially stiff and uncomfortable with Jungkook’s eyes now on him catching him trying to sneak away.

Jungkook didn’t seem to care in the slightest nor did he look surprised, still blinking at him in the morning light. He squinted before sliding his hand from Namjoon’s, only to reach up and to Namjoon’s shock, tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, murmuring something incoherently. He felt Jungkook’s fingers brush the side of his face, once and twice.

“What did you say?” Namjoon asked, matching his hushed tone.

“Your hair’s getting long,” Jungkook enunciated back before dropping his hand, and arm across Namjoon’s waist this time, heavy and solid, and passing back out again.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

-

Once Namjoon had been able to wiggle out from Jungkook’s arm, he realized he was overreacting. This was further cemented when the group gathered to go to the studio and pair off and Jungkook smiled at him briefly and comfortably but didn’t act differently otherwise.

Except for around lunchtime. Namjoon was leaning on the counter, watching, fondly and happily, Jimin shove a sandwich into his mouth. Jin was daintily picking various offenses off his own sandwich but was also eating, sitting at the kitchen table instead. Namjoon was not, content to bitch to Jimin about the song they were working on as Jimin nodded and agreed around bites of food, cheeks as full as Namjoon’s heart.

Jungkook walked in, quiet like a shadow in the studio where his shyness bested him most days around the American producers until he was able to speak Korean freely. He ruffled Jin’s hair messily, making the other one bark out a yell, before giggling and heading to the fridge.

Namjoon could see him in his peripheral but was surprised when he felt Jungkook lift his hand from the counter before placing an orange in it. Before he could react, he reached forward and slipped a Fiji water into Namjoon’s shorts pocket and then was gone. No words, no eye contact even. Just here, an orange, and a water. As if Namjoon hadn’t been standing 3 feet away from both the entire time.

He blinked up into the general space of where Jungkook had disappeared, startling at Jimin’s low, knowing laugh. “Guess you better eat that,” he said with a smirk.

Alarmed, Namjoon stuck a glance at Jin, both relieved and a little wary to see Jin wearing the same smirk.

“I don’t know if this helps or not but he used to do that to me,” Jimin added, eyes amused as he continued eating.

“How would that help me?” He mumbled, taking the water out of his pants pocket.

He drank it. And he ate the orange, too. He ignored the bemused glances between Jin and Jimin.

-

Later on in the evening everyone had split for bed early and Namjoon honestly did not blame them. It had been a long day for them, and for him, a frustrating one. He knew this did not necessarily mean the members were actually sleeping but needed the time to themselves.

Except for Jungkook. He lingered in the kitchen as Namjoon placed the rest of the takeout and dirty dishes away. Namjoon could feel his eyes on him as he moved around. “Jungkook-ah,” he acknowledged, and the other man just rested himself against the doorframe, teeth playing at his lipring again.

“Are you coming?”

Namjoon glanced up with a start, realizing instantly what he meant. The implications of Jungkook assuming Namjoon would just come to his room again made his breath start and stop a few times as he stared at him, one hand paused halfway into the dishwasher. Jungkook looked nervous again, eyebrows drawn together, but his gaze didn’t waver and he did not so much as shift his weight as he stood.

“Yeah, give me a second,” Namjoon said and then immediately wanted to scream. His mouth had moved before his brain caught up. What was he doing??

Yet, Jungkook’s small, near unnoticeable sigh of relief had something in him loosening too.

The younger man started wiping down the counters and tables and they swiftly headed to his room without another word.

-

Namjoon woke up again with complete awareness, and worse, knowing he’d had an almost full night’s, dreamless sleep again. He also woke up with Jungkook’s face pressed against his shoulder, his soft breath ghosting over his collarbone.

Namjoon took some deep breaths of his own, taking stock of the fact his arms were around Jungkook’s waist, head tilted as if to make room for him on his chest. He could feel the other man’s hands pressed against his back. There was no brushing this off at all this time. They were literally holding each other while they’d slept.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jungkook’s voice murmured and he wanted to actually die because he could feel his lips moving against his skin as he did so and it was giving him goosebumps. “Noisy.”

Namjoon swallowed. Jungkook could probably hear his heartbeat too. “Yeah? What’s that sound like?”

Jungkook hummed thoughtfully, the sound vibrating through both of them. “I guess kind of like thunder. The rolling thunder noise before the rain really gets going.”

That was unexpected. “Not like, gears turning, or a train? Thunder? That’s…romantic,” his stupid mouth said before he could think of a different word.

Jungkook abruptly lifted his head up and then tilted it back to look him right in the eyes and Namjoon felt a shudder run through him at the sudden eye contact. Why was he so desperately afraid?

“Are you alright?” he asked. There was slight concern but also this feeling of being probed. It felt like what he was really asking was “Is this okay?”

“This isn’t…totally weird to you?” Namjoon asked him, trying his best to maintain the eye contact and finding it increasingly difficult. He was distracted by his arms, still around Jungkook as if they’d always been there. He could feel his vertebrae under his fingers through his shirt. He could see the curve of the new addition to his tattoo from this angle.

“No,” Jungkook replied bluntly. “I slept, and you slept. And I’m comfortable.”

Namjoon watched his expression go through a few things and realized in that one sentence that Jungkook had been struggling to sleep, too. He just hadn’t said so. “Jungkook-ah, do you have nightmares?” He asked and it came out like a whisper, like a secret.

“Not the last two nights,” he replied, watching this land on Namjoon’s face. Then he nodded and put his back on Namjoon’s shoulder and fell asleep again.

Namjoon stayed awake for another two hours, watching the light lift in the room as the sun got higher. He imagined he could hear Yoongi and Jimin shuffling out of their beds, clanking ice for their coffees. He could almost hear Hobi cackling softly at something on his phone, Taehyung grumbling that everyone was being too loud. Jin wondering where they were.

What he really heard was Jungkook mumbling in his sleep, his soft hair brushing Namjoon’s chin.

He tightened his arms and closed his eyes.

-

Today was essentially a day off, one the company mandated and one that Jimin had quietly fought for. Namjoon was grateful as he watched the members pick out outfits to go shopping. Even Jungkook and Jin seemed happy to leave the villa, bouncing around like an impatient puppy as everyone took way too long getting ready.

“I’m going to stay here,” Namjoon announced as softly as he could when Hobi asked him why he wasn’t getting up.

He was met with some annoyed grumbles and Jungkook’s alert gaze. “Hyung? You should really get outside.”

The other members glanced at each other, surprised that Jungkook would pipe up at all with an opinion, much less about what Namjoon was doing. “It’s okay, I will,” he said, firmly, gently. “I just want to finish writing this song if I can.”

The members seemed to accept this, begrudgingly. Jimin squeezed his arm on the way out, telling him to call them if he wanted anything. Jungkook gave him the longest lingering look on the way out that sat in his stomach an hour after they left.

He went out by the pool with his notebook and an iced coffee, hat pulled down over his head. Belatedly realized he was actually wearing one of Jungkook’s zip-ups when a breeze had him catching a whiff of cologne that was not his. He pulled one of the sleeves over his hands and up this face, sniffing softly.

Absolutely fucked.

-

He got a text a few hours later. A picture from Jimin just to him privately, not their usual groupchat. He opened it to see it was a quick slightly blurry pic of the back of what was unmistakably Jungkook standing in front of a stand of souvenirs, his ridiculous chip bag wallet thing in his hand. Namjoon could feel his face smiling without even realizing. He hearted it without responding and spent entirely too long looking at the back of Jungkook’s head.

I think he’s getting you something. This text from Jimin that had Namjoon’s heart in his throat.

Unable to respond or even think of a response, he clicked his phone off and set it face down on the patio table.

-

Chatting and the sound of the sliding glass door had Namjoon looking up from his notebook in time to see half the members filter out. Jimin zoomed right by him before landing in the pool with a screech, the water splashing up and directly onto him.

“YAH!” Namjoon yelled, snatching his notebook back to shield it from further water damage.

“Sorry, hyung!,” Jimin called as he resurfaced, eyes closed as he shook the water off, not sounding sorry at all.

Namjoon grumbled as the rest of them appeared, some clearly a little flushed from early dinner drinks. Jungkook had his swimwear on and his enormous bunny smile on full display and he felt this weird pang. Had he missed him? The literal 6 hours he’d been gone? He watched idly as Jungkook tried to bodily throw Jin in the water, clothes and all.

“Hyung,” Taehyung said, stepping into the water and inexplicably flicking his wrist in Namjoon’s direction before he finished his sentence, “Jungkookie got us all souvenirs so you need to put yours on.” Ah. Namjoon grabbed Taehyung wrist at the edge of the pool so he could see the red threaded bracelet that housed what were a few small white seashells. Definitely something designed for tourists. “Isn’t it cute.” Taehyung commented in the most threatening tone he’d heard from him in a while.

“It’s very cute,” Namjoon said with a laugh, feeling rather than seeing Jungkook smile in his direction before he made an “oh!” face and dashed back into the house.

Jimin appeared to have a white threaded one around his neck. Jin’s was bright pink and he had it on as a necklace too. Hobi’s was green and hung from the bag he launched behind the patio chair before cannonballing dangerously close to Jimin in the pool. Yoongi announced his was black and he wasn’t going to wear it. (Namjoon knew it was in his pocket and would end up on his nightstand or dresser at home until the day he died most likely. Or his cat got ahold of it.)

Jungkook reemerged from the house, hair flopping as he rushed to close the door behind him. “Namjoonie hyung, here’s yours,” he said breathlessly. He unfurled his fingers over Namjoon’s outstretched hand and folded rather than dropped it into his palm.

“Oh,” he said carefully, running a finger over one of the shells. “Purple? Blue?” He was a bit confused but looked up into Jungkook’s hesitant face. He pulled it back out of his hand, winding it around Namjoon’s wrist, twice before tying it tightly. Namjoon watched his face instead of his hands. Eyebrows drawn in concentration before he let go, slow, his grip on Namjoon warm despite the breeze. He was aware this oddly intimate interaction was happening in full view of all five other members and couldn’t find an ounce of shame or embarrassment in it.

“Indigo,” Jungkook replied, in English.

-

During dinner, Jin sat next to him and Namjoon instantly knew he was in for some sort of lecture. Years of experience and being subject to and witnessing them had made him familiar with the facial expression and general aura Jin exuded before these conversations. He glanced at his hyung as the volume and chatter increased around them the more drinks started getting passed around.

“We’re sleeping in the same bed,” he said in a low tone under his breath before Jin even opened his mouth, earning him a mixed expression of exasperation and stress. “Just sleeping,” he emphasized, trying his best to ignore Jungkook’s sudden laser focus on the two of them from across the room, tattooed hand holding his empty soju cup anxiously.

Jin started at him from under his impressive set of eyelashes like he was lying not only to him but the room as a whole. “Okay,” he said simply. “For now,” he added.

“Hyung—”

“His souvenir bracelet thing,” Jin interrupted. “He got one for himself too.” He clinked his soju glass against Jimin’s and then Namjoon’s who returned it robotically. “It’s the same color as yours. He bought two.” His stomach flip flopped and he set his full glass down with a cut off breath. Jin finally made eye contact with him meaningfully and Namjoon realized it was less of a lecture and more of a protective warning. If you’re going to do it, do it right. Don’t hurt him. “Anyways, it matches yours is what I’m trying to say,” he ended with a little laugh at Namjoon’s expression.

-

Later, in the dark, he could feel both of them laying side by side, awake. Jungkook’s breathing was a little off and Namjoon wondered if it was because of the alcohol or if he was psyching himself up to say something. He wondered why he was laying, silent, in the dark letting Jungkook be the brave one again. He swallowed and turned so he was facing the fuzzy silhouette of the other man in bed, and began:

“You told me you missed me the other day.” He paused as Jungkook took that in and shifted, his full attention on him. “I missed you too, obviously. All of you. So, so badly.” He stopped suddenly, taken aback by how that admission felt so raw. He was suddenly back in the barracks, surrounded by people and more alone than ever. He took another shuddery breath, determined to finish his thought. “When we were all discharged and met up. I’d been home of course for a bit but,” his eyes strained to find Jungkook’s face in the dark, his large dark eyes. Even at his most courageous, it was still at night, in the dark. “I didn’t actually feel like I was home until I saw you.” Specifically, until he had his arms around him. His smile face rubbing against his affectionately. He had not wanted to let go then, and he realized he didn’t now.

Jungkook moved the same time he did, but Namjoon made sure he got to him first, pulling his body into him under the covers, tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of his head, letting himself push his face into the space between Jungkook’s neck and shoulder. He smelled like the cedar soap in the bathroom and vaguely still a bit of chlorine.

“I’m home to you?” He asked in such a small voice that Namjoon’s knee jerk to response was to tighten his grip, pull him closer. Was he crying a bit? Was Jungkook? He guessed the soju was probably partially to blame.

“Yes,” he said definitively and felt Jungkook’s breath let out, his hands come up to rub circles against his back, slow and circular.

They fell asleep holding each other on purpose.

-

The third day Namjoon woke up in Jungkook’s bed in LA, was to Jungkook running his fingers so, softly over his face, methodical. Finger starting at his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. Across his cheeks like a butterfly wing. The tips of his ears. He blinked up at him, his chest tightening when Jungkook smiled his small smile in response.

“What are you doing, memorizing me?” He complained, fond. “You’re going to see so much of me for the next few years you’ll be sick of me.”

Jungkook dropped his hand and gazed at him carefully, thoughtfully. “No,” he said, drawing the word out. “I don’t think I will.”

-

This continued like this for the next week. Clearly the members and perhaps even some of the staff had caught on by now but the staff were pretty much trained and used to not blinking at anything and the members…didn’t seem to care all that much.

Namjoon figured it certainly helped that for the most part Jungkook acted completely normally with him and everyone else in the meantime. If anything, maybe he gravitated towards him more, looked in his direction more when he thought Namjoon couldn’t see him. He couldn’t really figure out how it made him feel. Endeared, which was not an unfamiliar emotion when it came to Jungkook for him. There was also another layered, mature feeling to it that left him feeling tense and guilty.

He was bending backwards in his chair in the kitchen at breakfast one morning, yawning, oblivious and used to the mumbling and chatting around him, stretching his long arms out and then up over his head. He opened his eyes to see Jungkook paused with a piece of food to his mouth, enormous black eyes fixated on the sliver of skin between the edge of Namjoon’s shirt that had bunched up above the waistband of his shorts. He felt goosebumps on his neck and huffed out a breath he’d felt himself holding, looking away before Jungkook noticed his own gaze.

He realized what that other tense feeling was and that Jungkook was probably also feeling it and could feel himself clamming up during their usual little routine later that night when they both blearily rolled into Jungkook’s bed.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, a little distracted and in his head as he pulled the covers back. He stopped, turned around, started rifling through his suitcase. Watching him silently for a moment, Namjoon finally realized he was packing.

“Are you going somewhere?” He joked finally, feebly, feeling a bit raw and confused from the day. Between songwriting and navigating what was going on with himself and with Jungkook he felt the beginnings of anxiety settling in his chest and throat.

Jungkook started and looked at him, looking regretful and guilty. “Oh, I thought I told you. I’m going back to Korea for a few days to see my friend before he starts his military service. My flight is early tomorrow morning.” His face was a bit drawn and he looked anything but happy about it. “I’m coming right back though!”

Namjoon pushed his anxiety to the side for a moment and sat up straighter. “Oh. Don’t you want to see him?” He searched his brain briefly before realizing Jungkook was probably talking about his actor friend he had seen recently.

“Yes,” Jungkook huffed, folding clothes with precision, somehow managing to look both competent and adorable at the same time. “Also, no. I don’t want to leave.” He glanced at Namjoon, his teeth worrying his piercing.

“You’ll be back right away,” Namjoon murmured, seeking to reassure him even as he felt his own sort of bereft feelings burgeoning. “We’ll make sure you get caught up right away when you get back.”

Jungkook stopped for a second and looked up at him from his spot on the floor. Namjoon watched a slew of emotions pass over his face. He opened his mouth, paused. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, hyung,” he finally said before heading to the bathroom for his toiletries.

Later that night with the lights off and Jungkook’s breath ghosting against his hair, Namjoon wondered what he was going to say before he stopped himself.

The sun filtering through the room directly into his eyes woke him up. He automatically glanced to his left at the empty space. He had no way of explaining the absolute pain that went through him at the sight. He groaned and rolled into the space Jungkook had left, burying his face into his pillow filling his nose with the scent of Jungkook’s shampoo and trace of cologne. He sighed heavily to himself and pulled the comforter over his head.

-

He thought maybe he’d dreamt of Jungkook sitting on the bed by his feet. Fingers running through his hair and the soft press lips against his hairline. He was almost certain it had been a dream.

Even though Namjoon hadn’t had a dream for over 18 months.

-

Jungkook did not text Namjoon the entire time he was gone. To be fair, Namjoon didn’t text him either.

He wasn’t sure why he so stubbornly did not, other than not really having a good enough reason to. He was with his friend right now, having left an entire country to go spend time with him and he didn’t need Namjoon sending him some silly picture of Taehyung with his glasses on upside down.

They had also gone months previously without texting each other. Sure there was always the groupchat but Namjoon would be an idiot to not acknowledge there was something separate going on that was either going to go forward or grind to a halt at this point.

That terrified him. He had a strong feeling the decision was falling on him.

He finally caved when it was just he and Jimin in one of the studios for a moment, his mind unable to leave it alone.

“Has Jungkook texted you at all?”

Jimin’s smile appeared instantly which made Namjoon almost instantly regret asking. “Yeah,” he said with a small laugh. “Just once though.”

He felt himself frown, apprehensive as Jimin pulled out his phone clearly attempting to show him the text. “I don’t need to read it,” Namjoon insisted, hearing the whining in his own tone.

“Yeah you do,” Jimin said with another chuckle, turning the screen around so he could see.

Namjoon squinted to read despite himself.

Make sure Namjoonie-hyung eats while I’m gone.

“Brat,” he said automatically even as he felt the flush crawling up his neck, doing his absolute damnedest to ignore Jimin’s knowing little smile and wiggle dance. “What does he think I’ve been doing for the last two years?” In hindsight, maybe that had been the reason he’d texted.

Sleeping had gone back to being impossible. What bothered him even more was the fear he’d need another person – Jungkook, specifically – to get any sleep for the foreseeable future.

He was sitting up in Jungkook’s bed – he refused to go back to his room at this point. Yoongi would play the guitar at all hours of the night, and the walls were not soundproof. Plus Jungkook’s bed smelled like Jungkook. Which made him feel like somebody’s lovesick girlfriend, but it calmed him and he was past caring. He was watching without any real intention one of the many anime that was queued up on the logged in Netflix account (also Jungkook’s) and had the sudden realization, surrounded by Jungkook’s memory in that bedroom, that Jungkook made him feel protected and calm, simply by existing next to him. In bed and otherwise. It made him want to cry with frustration honestly because what did he even do with that? He wasn’t even sure Jungkook would want to go back to…whatever they’d been doing for the past couple of weeks when he arrived back in LA. Namjoon missed him so badly after three days and neither of them could manage to send a single text to each other.

Namjoon swung his legs out of bed and started feeling around the floor in the dark, certain he’d left one of his notebooks in there. He’d write about it. That was all he could do at the moment anyways. He’d write something. His fingers found the sharp edge of something and he pulled, frowning at the bright red and realizing it wasn’t his notebook but an actual book.

“What the hell?” He muttered out loud. It was his book. Or more accurately, a dual copy of a book he’d had in his room about art history. Only this one was in English.

He stared at it for a while, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, flipping through the pages to see a little bend on page 42, as if someone had marked their place. A piece of yellow paper flew out, Jungkook’s neat handwriting on it.

Ask hyung what this word means later.

Had Jungkook bought a copy of the book he was currently reading – in English besides? To what end? There was no remote reason Jungkook would want to read anything about this subject.

To feel closer to you. The voice in his head sounded more like Jimin’s than his own but the impact was the same.

“Fuck,” Namjoon breathed and without really knowing why took the post it from the book with the English word written on it and stuck it in his own notebook once he found it, closer to his toes than the edge of the bed.

Then he sat back with his pen, notebook in his lap, legs crossed, in the dark, and wrote a song.

-

Close to 11 pm the following night, Namjoon sat alone at the kitchen table eating ramyeon. Phone propped up as one of his favorite youtubers interviewed a celebrity he’d watched in a few dramas. He was wide awake and knew from the previous few nights that sleep wasn’t in the cards anyways.

Slurping his noodles in peace, he really only registered Hobi in the room once he sat down directly across from him. Glancing up to see him staring at him too.

“Uh oh,” he said, joking smile vanishing as Hobi grimaced.

“I have to talk to you. You’re probably going to get a little mad.”

Namjoon immediately paused his video and set his chopsticks down. “I love to hear that. What’s up, hyung?”

Looking extremely uncomfortable, Hobi started picking at invisible crumbs on the table. “I took Jungkook aside right before he left to talk to him. I don’t think he’s super happy with me either, but I was worried.”

Namjoon stared at him, confused. “Worried about what?”

Hobi looked up at him finally, face serious. “Worried about him hurting you honestly.”

“Hurting me?”

The other man rolled his eyes lightly. “Yes. I told him he can’t just pick you up and put you down in four to six weeks like all his other hobbies he can’t commit to. I know you.” What a blessing a curse to be so known. His eyes widened as he was remembering the conversation. Namjoon’s thoughts were a rapid, jumbled mess at this point. “He reaaaally did not like that.”

Namjoon opened and closed his mouth, pushing the rest of his questions back to finally settle on the most important one. “And what did he say to that?”

Hobi looked away again but was smiling faintly. Namjoon could tell by his face he was hesitating, parsing through what he could and couldn’t tell him without betraying Jungkook’s trust. Any other time he would’ve patiently accepted this but now it felt like Hobi was holding him by his shirt over a cliff. “He reassured me it wasn’t like that in his own way. But I really did want to let you know in case he’s still a bit wary with me when he gets back tomorrow morning.”

“He’ll be fine by the time he gets back,” Namjoon murmured. Jungkook didn’t hold grudges, none of them did and especially with each other. “Are you going to actually tell me what he said?”

“Oh, definitely not,” he said with a laugh and Namjoon groaned. “That’s up to him and do you see how huge he is?” Fucking yes. “He’d break me in half.” He was still laughing when he got up and took Namjoon’s hat off to ruffle his hair like they were teenagers again.

“Have you all been secretly worried about me?” Namjoon asked quietly before he left the kitchen, trailing the question after him and half hoping he didn’t hear it.

Hobi paused by the doorway, mouth turned down thoughtfully. “Yes and no. We all just knew you needed some time. We all needed time.” He smiled. “I do think Jungkookie’s been the most worried though.” And then he left.

Namjoon went back to his ramyeon after staring at the empty doorway for a while. He jumped a mile at the sound of what was unmistakably suitcase wheels on the tile suddenly barreling down the hallway. He looked up with chopsticks in mid air to connect eyes with Jungkook.

He had his usual head to toe black on, his cap pulled low over his face. Even still Namjoon could only fixate on his dark eyes as a few staff members approached from behind him, greeted him and headed to their rooms sleepily.

“Hi,” he said finally once it was the two of them. Jungkook still hadn’t moved from his spot, one hand on his suitcase handle and the other still holding his carry on. He was so still, especially for him, it was almost a bit eerie

“Hi,” he said back, voice hushed strangely. “We got an earlier flight.”

“I see that.”

Jungkook stared at him a beat more before swallowing and dropping his bag at his feet. Namjoon blinked as the other man strode purposefully toward him before reaching out and grabbing the back of his head, smushing his face against Jungkook’s midriff while he was still seated. He could feel Jungkook’s hand cradling the back of his head, the other around his shoulders.

“Missed you,” he felt rather than heard him murmur and Namjoon closed his eyes, carefully dropping his chopsticks onto the table.

“You’re going to get ramyeon on you.”

“I don’t care.”

He maneuvered his hand around Jungkook’s waist from the awkward position, finally giving in and pushing his hand under the other man’s shirt splaying his fingers against the skin of his lower back. Just needing to be closer. Jungkook made a small humming noise and relaxed into him further, his thumb moving slowly back and forth in his hair, right behind his ear. He then made a frustrated huffing noise, tipping Namjoon’s cap off to bury his face in his hair.

“You didn’t text me,” Jungkook muttered and Namjoon could hear the full on pout without looking.

“You didn’t text me either, brat. I didn’t want to bother you while you were with your friend.” He said all this into Jungkook’s abdomen, confident the other could hear him.

“I didn’t want to bother you either.”

“You don’t ever bother me,” Namjoon said. “Next time just text me.”

“Okay. You too.”

“Did you have fun?”

He felt the idle scratching against his skull slow for a moment. “Yes. But it was weird. Sending him off when I just got out, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Namjoon responded, leaning into him more as Jungkook’s grip tightened.

“What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Namjoon responded. “We’ll catch you up.” He paused. Be brave. “I wrote a song. I think.”

Jungkook drew back suddenly to look at him. “Oh? Will it be on the new album? Can I hear it?”

Namjoon smiled faintly at his enthusiasm, noticing up close the circles under Jungkook’s otherwise bright eyes. “Well, maybe? It’s about you.”

He watched this register for a moment. Surprise, apprehensive, happy. “About me? Do you have it, can I read the lyrics?” He looked around as if Namjoon was going to pull it out from under his noodles.

“It’s in my notebook upstairs,” he said with a laugh. “In your room.”

“My room?” He blinked, confused. “Did you sleep in my room when I was gone?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook blinked at him a few times. “Oh.” He finally smiled and went back to squeezing his head in the most aggressively affectionate headlock, Namjoon’s protest muffled against his stomach again, giggling faintly. “You did miss me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Well let me go read it, let go.” He tried pulling out of Namjoon’s grip on his waist, laughing when Namjoon just pulled him back, tightening his hold. “You can let go now, hyung.”

“I don’t want to.” He took a deep breath in as Jungkook froze, looking down at him questioningly, eyebrows drawn. “I don’t want to let go now…or when we get back home, either.” He swallowed, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Tipping his chin up to make sure he made his point, that Jungkook understood.

He wasn’t as courageous as Jungkook. He never had been. Jungkook jumped first and asked all the questions later and it always seemed to work out for him. But this is what Namjoon could do, for now. I wrote you a song. I never want to let go. This is what he had the bravery and capacity for with his bruised, mangled heart. He handed Jungkook the gossamer thin thread keeping him held upright, along with the scissors. I wrote you a song instead of I think I’m falling in love with you. I think I’ve always been a little bit in love with you. And I never want to let go instead of I find it difficult to breathe when you’re not around.

Jungkook was still staring at him, hard, his hands cradling his face. He seemed locked into place and Namjoon watched the realization settle over him like wave. He could practically hear the click-click-click as the gears fell into place. “Is that okay?” He finally whispered, feeling like anything above a whisper could break them both.

Jungkook’s laser focus on him finally eased and his shoulders relaxed. “Yeah,” he breathed, his following smile brilliant in the late-night darkness of the kitchen. “Yes.” And he tipped Namjoon’s head up a bit further, bent down and kissed him.

Included in a few things Namjoon had let himself indulge in during their stay in LA was letting himself be dragged to a beautiful fine dining course dinner with Taehyung. One of the beginning courses had featured something he’d never seen before called a fiddlehead. A small, coiled green that was eaten like a vegetable. He’d thought it was adorable. The name, the appearance. Like something cute in an anime. He felt like one of those fiddleheads now, but unfurled. The ridges in his spine and heart uncoiling as if someone had finally succeeded in untensing the part he’d kept rigid for the past few weeks.

Like coming home.

Jungkook kissed him once, twice, quick and tentative, gentle. He was always so careful with Namjoon. It made him ache.

Unconsciously and by instinct, he pulled Jungkook closer and parted his lips. The angle was uncomfortable, but Jungkook’s responsive groan into his mouth went straight to toes. Jungkook tilted his head to access the inside of his mouth better, and Namjoon felt a tingle run up his spine as their tongues touched, deepening the kiss further. He could hear the noises they were both making, cut off shuddery little breaths and almost-hummed little whines from Jungkook. He realized he was still pressing his fingers into the skin of Jungkook’s lower back, holding him as tight as possible. He ran his tongue across the piercing at the corner of Jungkook’s lip, something he hadn’t known how badly he’d wanted to do until he’d done it, Jungkook full body shuddering at the action.

It occurred to him that he was well and truly fucked now. He didn’t think, after this, he could ever kiss anyone other than Jeon Jungkook.

“Upstairs? Upstairs,” Namjoon mumbled, to who he wasn’t sure as Jungkook didn’t seem to be listening. He had broken off to start pressing open mouthed kisses against Namjoon’s neck and under his ear, his jaw. Back to his mouth.

Namjoon was becoming panicky, aware they were in the middle of the kitchen still.

“Okay,” Jungkook laughed, as Namjoon pushed at him. “Let’s go.”

“Your bags?”

Jungkook was already padding out of the room, his fingers intertwined with Namjoon’s. Moving faster up the stairs than Namjoon thought was strictly necessary. He hadn’t looked back once. “What bags?”

Namjoon just laughed and let himself be dragged.

-

Jungkook basically kicked the door closed behind them, simultaneously reaching out to grab the front of Namjoon’s sweatshirt to unzip, eyebrows drawn in concentration. He paused for a second and tilted his head to the side. “Is this…my sweatshirt?” He asked.

Namjoon felt the tips of his ears heat. “Yes, but it was on the floor before you left and I just—”

Jungkook interrupted him by dragging him roughly by the mentioned sweatshirt towards him only to kiss him, licking immediately into his mouth until they were both breathless again. “I like when you wear my clothes,” he panted and Namjoon blacked out for a second before he started fussing with his zipper again. “But not now, take this off,” he muttered impatiently, making him laugh. Were you supposed to laugh this often during these moments? Had Namjoon been doing this wrong the whole time?

Maybe he’d just been with the wrong person.

He let Jungkook push the sweatshirt off of him before getting rid of the undershirt as well. He was trying his best to ignore the urge to hunch his shoulders, hide. The sun and salt were forever on his skin and hair these days. He was gratified when Jungkook’s gaze roved over him hungrily, shoulder to shoulder, up and down. “So nice to not have to pretend I’m not staring at you,” he said, warming Namjoon immediately. He reached out to tug the hem of Jungkook’s long sleeve shirt off and suddenly they were both bare from the waist up.

“Come here,” Namjoon whispered, pulling on Jungkook’s belt loop to drag him in, wrapping his arms around the other’s shoulders and waist. Chest to chest and skin to skin felt so intimate and huge. He breathed softly into the crook of Jungkook’s neck, making a conscious effort to enjoy the small pause.

Jungkook was kissing his shoulder, arm, behind his ear again, muttering to seemingly himself, over and over, as if unaware he was doing so: “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

Namjoon swallowed and smiled, just to himself. “Are you sure about this?” He asked, making sure his tone was clear, needing to ask one more time before they irrevocably changed things between them.

Jungkook stopped his ministrations to draw back, hand sliding from Namjoon’s elbow to his wrist. He kissed the palm of his hand, once, twice. “When I was home these last few days, I kept picturing you in different places in my house. Isn’t that funny?” He laughed a little, not looking at him. He stroked his fingers over Namjoon’s wrist thoughtfully, finger hooked under the bracelet with the indigo thread and white shells. “You’ve obviously been to my house already. But it was more…in my kitchen, maybe? Like I’d make us dinner and you could read or watch me. Or on my couch.” He hesitated. “Or in my bed.” He looked up and Namjoon felt his breath stutter. “This isn’t…a one time thing for me, hyung…” His tone changed and Namjoon realized belatedly that parts of this were just as difficult for Jungkook as it was for him. “I really, really need you know that.”

Namjoon lifted his hand to cup his Jungkook’s jaw, kissing the corner of his mouth gently. “It isn’t for me either.” He brushed his lips over his temple. “But I’m scared.” He laughed. “There are a million things going on right now, and I wasn’t expecting this.”

Jungkook drew back a bit abruptly, but Namjoon tightened his grip on him. “But this isn’t new…” He stopped, started again. “I didn’t just start feeling like this, Jungkook-ah.” He paused at Jungkook’s confused eyebrows. “I just…ignored this. For years.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up and he stopped trying to wiggle out of Namjoon’s grip. “How long?” He murmured.

“Before the military anyways,” Namjoon muttered and Jungkook’s squeezed his fingers hard around his wrist. Jungkook’s eyes were a bit glassy and he looked upset. “Hey, I’m sorry—”

“No, me too. I just.” He watched as the younger man’s mouth opened and closed. Namjoon waited patiently. “Jimin and I…didn’t know how to talk to you then. We really didn’t. I just kept texting you useless things because—” He stopped again and swallowed before barreling on. “Hyung, we really were worried you were going to hurt yourself. I was. I didn’t know how to handle how I felt much less manage that.”

Namjoon didn’t blame him for feeling that way. Before, and then during the military felt like a long, neverending storm. One he focused very hard on not thinking about. “Is that why you sent me memes like, every day?” He rasped finally.

Jungkook laughed suddenly, eyes crinkling and it was, and had always been, the best sound in the world to Namjoon. “Yes,” he said, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It was good,” Namjoon said, trying valiantly not to tear up himself. Jungkook sending him the dumbest and silliest memes almost every day when Namjoon had only asked for space. Meanwhile. Jimin and Jungkook in the midst of their own service, had been agonizing over making sure he was safe, that he was well. In reality, the timing would have been awful. He wouldn’t have been able to accept any of what Jungkook had been doing and telling him for weeks now. The truth was he was more affectionate. Not just with Jungkook, but the members as well. He was also more patient. Kinder, softer. When he’d thought he’d been in the wrong place he had closed himself off. He was relieved that the past Namjoon and past Jungkook had not been able to have the conversation that they were having now. “You sending me those messages reminded me that it was okay to laugh at myself a little,” he said finally. “Jungkook…I was never going to do anything like that. I’m doing better now, though. Not…perfect. But I’m working on it. I might need my own space sometimes. Is that…okay?”

Jungkook tilted his head at him, small smirk, mock confusion. “I know. I know you.” He was smiling and gripping both of Namjoon’s elbows, thumbs brushing back and forth reassuringly. Namjoon realized with a profound, grounding sense of relief that Jungkook really did know him. That even if he was brusque one day or quiet the next, that Jungkook had known him for 13 years and knew his heart as deeply as he did.

“You do,” Namjoon said with a nod, and proceeded to drag him onto the bed unceremoniously, smiling at Jungkook’s giggles.

He gently pushed Jungkook until he was underneath him, kissing the side of his face and mouth. Jungkook’s hand skated up and down his back, his spine, over his ribs. Every touch felt intentional, as if he was trying to memorize each part of him. You don’t have to, Namjoon wanted to tell him. I’m not going anywhere. Jungkook suddenly hooked his leg over Namjoon’s hip, grinding their hips together with a groan.

Namjoon gasped at the friction, vision whiting out for a second, his already obvious and somewhat painful arousal jutting hard against Jungkook’s hipbone. He swore, loudly and Jungkook let out a breathy little laugh against his neck that went straight to his erection.

“Hyung, please touch me,” he stammered out and Namjoon immediately jerked in response to acquiesce. For as long as he’d known him and for the first instant he’d set eyes on him, whatever Jungkook wanted, Jungkook got.

He didn’t think that aspect of their relationship was going to change anytime soon.

He pressed his lips against Jungkook’s tattooed shoulder, moving himself down to kiss open mouthed and wet against the rest of his skin. Shoulder, to collarbone, to chest, each individual rib. Maybe he was doing memorizing of his own. Memorizing or cherishing? He scraped his teeth against the other man’s waistline, satisfied at Jungkook’s incoherent mumbling and the goosebumps raising on his pale skin. He suddenly paused and looked up.

“Um, do you have lube or…?” He didn’t know how ready he was for everything else but that felt a little necessary.

Jungkook blinked down at him, bare face flushed, mouth slightly swollen from the kissing. “Huh?” He asked intelligently and Namjoon smiled.

“Is it in your bag or?”

They both stared at each other, recalling exactly where the bags had been left.

“Give me your hand,” Jungkook rasped and again, Namjoon acquiesced without question.

Without breaking eye contact, Jungkook took a moment and literally spat into his palm. “There,” he said, leaning back onto the bed.

Namjoon could not tell if he was disgusted or turned on or both and decided both was fine. He dragged Jungkook’s shorts off with one hand, before taking exactly three seconds to admire the length of him (Time for that later, I’ll make time for that later), and wrapping his fingers around him.

Before he even started stroking, Jungkook immediately let out a long string of curses at the initial touch. Namjoon found a rhythm and bent back over him to kiss him, clumsy now that he was multitasking. He gasped against Jungkook’s damp neck and shoulders, the other man’s babbling only serving to arouse Namjoon further as well.

“I’m going to—” Jungkook pushed out, voice strangled. He had a strong feeling it was going to be quick for both of them given the inevitable pause between partners. His nails were digging into the broad area between Namjoon’s shoulder blades and he hoped he’d be able to see in a mirror later on where he was being marked now. He wanted to remember Jungkook’s face now as he came. His back arched off the bed as he cried out, eyes opening at the last second so he could see it hit him like a wave. “Namjoon. Namjoon-ah,” he was gasping, not hyung. His piercing disappearing as he bit his lip, the last remnants of his orgasm rocking over him.

Namjoon did not think he’d last another thirty seconds after Jungkook moaning his name into his mouth as he came.

They were a mess but Jungkook didn’t seem to care. Determined in this just like anything else, he was already frantically pushing Namjoon’s sweatpants off. “It’s been a while—” Namjoon started, hissing when Jungkook’s thumb made contact with the tip of his cock, spreading the precome across and down the length of it. “Jesus christ,” he muttered, arms shaking from his position above Jungkook.

He had never seen any of these facial expressions on Jungkook, for which he was relieved. Just now, his dark eyes were hooded yet impossibly dark against his face. He licked the palm of his own hand as Namjoon watched and quite possibly got some of the precome in the process. “What the fuck,” he muttered, Jungkook smirking at him.

He really hoped it was thirty seconds but had no way knowing as his own orgasm was instantly upon him, much longer than he thought it would be. He squeezed his own eyes shut, biting into the skin of Jungkook’s shoulder. If Jungkook was loud, then Namjoon was near silent.

He rolled away and opened his eyes to Jungkook staring at him like he’d never seen him before. His dark bangs were slightly wet with sweat against his forehead, eyes round and wide. They were both still breathing heavily. Namjoon felt the weight of it start to creep in on the edges of his vision. They could literally never go back after this—

Jungkook grinned at him, large and unrepressed. “Do you know how sexy you are?”

Namjoon felt relief and warmth crush over him like one of the waves in the ocean knocking him down. Stunned feelings of love, adoration. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to it. “I don’t think anyone would say that when I’m standing next to you,” he said, reaching out to brush Jungkook’s bangs from his face.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” Jungkook said instead and Namjoon laughed. He laughed a bit too hard, feeling the dramatic meaning of the event suddenly catching up to him.

“Ah, hyung,” Jungkook murmured, and Namjoon suddenly felt him brushing away a few stray tears. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying.

“That’s embarrassing,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes frantically. Jungkook said nothing but kissed away the remaining ones on his cheek and jaw, tender. Namjoon’s heart constricted at the action.

“Let’s shower,” Jungkook said suddenly, dragging up against to his bathroom. “Is your stuff in here?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook moved him around like a puppet in the shower, rinsing them both off and then making him bend a little towards him, forward so that he could wash his hair. Namjoon closed his eyes against the blunt scraping of Jungkook’s nails against his scalp. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had washed his hair for him other than a stylist. His mother? It had to have been. Jungkook doing it now, after everything, after just having had sex together was deeply overwhelming.

He felt the tears coming again and this time didn’t do too much to fight them. He was okay. He was safe. Maybe this was being brave too.

Jungkook was rinsing out his hair when he realized, and he stopped to rotate him around and tuck him into his shoulder. The warm water ran down them both as they stood wrapped together, and Namjoon sobbed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried if he was honest with himself. “Hyung, I didn’t do something, right?” His worried tone had Namjoon drawing back as he wiped the last of his tears away. The uncertain look on Jungkook’s face was unacceptable.

“No, no,” he said immediately, lacing his fingers behind Jungkook’s neck, angling his face so that they were eye to eye. Jungkook was blinking water of his eyes as the shower persisted. “I think everything hit me at once. I might be happy.” Happiness didn’t come easy to him, and when it did it was filled with a lingering since of when it would end. He was trying his best to be present. Did he deserve this? He didn’t think so. But if he told Jungkook, Jungkook would tell him that he did. And be pissed that’d suggest otherwise. And that was a start.

“Happy?!” Jungkook exclaimed loudly, Namjoon shushing him half heartedly. “You’re going to have to tell me when you’re sad, hyung. I’ll never know.”

“Hey, what happened to ‘Namjoon-ah’?” He asked teasingly, watching a flush creep up Jungkook’s chest and cheeks.

He really did love him.

Namjoon laughed and kissed him soundly, mostly because he could.

-

They finally made it out of the shower, hair drying in different directions, skin raw from the water and soap. “You need sleep,” Namjoon insisted as Jungkook pulled his long sleeve shirt back on from the floor.

“I need to eat,” Jungkook insisted back, making him sigh. But he did eventually follow him to the kitchen, both of them trying to be as quiet as possible in the dark house.

“It’s two in the morning you better keep it down,” Namjoon muttered, settling across from him in the kitchen at the counter. He watched blearily as ingredient after ingredient was deposited on the counter. “Pasta?”

Jungkook hummed his assent as he moved around the kitchen, graceful and assured as always. Namjoon had always liked watching Jungkook do things. Dance, sing, cook. A little confused, he watched him fill and place the teapot on the stove, turning the burner on. “What are you doing with that?”

“Making you tea,” Jungkook responded off-handed. “There’s chamomile tea in my bag and I was going to put some honey in it. Might help with the sleeping.”

Namjoon stared at him for a moment. “Oh.” He blinked down at his hands.  “JK, you’ve been looking after me a lot since we got back.”

Jungkook nodded, still half listening. He stirred the pasta in the water before twisting to grab an onion and cutting board. “It’s because I love you.”

The chopping sound of the onion continued for a while before he stopped, seeming to catch up to what he said. Namjoon was staring at him again, eyes wide, hands folded in front of him. “Ah. Fuck.” He set the onion down, knife too, fearful. The sound of boiling water could be heard burbling over them. “I mean—”

“I love you too,” Namjoon responded, surprising them both. “Jungkook, you have to understand. I’m really, really scared.” He swallowed, hands clenched together. “Not of you, never of you,” he said firmly, quickly. “But so much is so uncertain right now. The album, the tour. I have no idea what we’re even doing right now. And now,” he tilted his head. “I’m not going anywhere, but I am terrified.” He laughed shakily.

Jungkook leaned forward against the edge of the counter, his breath coming slowly as if willing himself to calm down. “That’s good then that I’m not afraid of anything,” he said and reached across to intertwine Namjoon’s fingers with his own. “You worry about those things, and in the meantime, I’ll be brave for both of us.”

Namjoon leaned his forward against their enjoined hands with an exhale. “How could I ask that of you? I can be kind of a pain in the ass, Jungkook. I don’t know if you actually—”

“Yes. I do.” He looked up to see Jungkook half laughing at him again. “I know. I love you, and I know.” And suddenly Namjoon felt like someone had gently let all the air out of his balloon. He breathed in the space that Jungkook had left him.

Namjoon shook his head, smiling too. “Alright.” He willed his heart to stop racing. He looked up at the man he’d just confessed to being in love with. Who he had written a song about. Soul to fingertip to pen to paper. Home, home, home. “Alright,” he said again.

And Jungkook smiled, squeezed his hand and made them pasta at 2:30 in the morning.

-

They were almost finishing up eating when Taehyung stumbled in, one eye open, half of his hair stuck up on one side. He leaned against the doorway to the kitchen and stared at them.

Jungkook’s feet were in Namjoon’s lap where he had a hand circled around his bare ankle, finger looped under the indigo-colored thread of the seashell necklace.

All three of them continued to stare at each other for what felt like an eternity.

Taehyung yawned. “I owe Seokjinnie hyung money,” he mumbled grumpily.

“What?” Namjoon asked.

“How much?” Jungkook asked, taking his last bite of pasta.

Tahehyung peered into the pot, ignoring them both balefully. “Can I have some?”

“Mmm, I’ll get you some hyung,” Jungkook swung his legs off Namjoon’s lap and got up to make him a bowl, complete with freshly grated cheese and pepper.

Namjoon was frozen, face warm as he watched them. Taehyung finally turned to him, his expressive eyebrows drawn. “Hyung,” he began softly. “It’s okay.”

It was all he said and suddenly Namjoon knew that not only did Taehyung know but everyone else did too. It was something in his tone. Anyone else out of out the seven of them would tell him he was being crazy, but he knew. “Is it really?”

“Are you both happy?” Taehyung asked quietly, and he wondered if Jungkook was happily ignoring them or really couldn’t hear.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

Taehyung accepted the pasta from a smiling Jungkook. “Then we’ll figure the rest out together, right?”

Namjoon didn’t know if he could cry for a third time that night, but he almost certainly felt like it. He wondered if all your tears from your twenties could be stored up and redistributed in your thirties when you grew a heart. His was so full here with Jungkook and the other members he didn’t know what to do half the time. How was he supposed to write an album when all he wanted to do was splash in the ocean and read again, and kiss Jungkook on the mouth, and be around the six people who saw him? He gripped his chopsticks in his hand and nodded, wordless, for once.

Jungkook sat back down and deposited his feet back in his lap comfortably. Namjoon circled his ankle with his fingers once more. He felt the other man lean over to brush hair behind his ear and Taehyung smiled but didn’t react otherwise.

Namjoon swallowed a few times before clearing his throat. “Do you two want to read the song I wrote?”