Archive of Our Own

Namjoon is lost. He had found the right bus, stayed his course for the hour-long trip through unfamiliar streets, and gotten off at what he had been sure was the right stop. Only to be lost now, presumably just blocks away from his destination. Ridiculous.

It’s a microcosm of his experience in Los Angeles so far. Namjoon had been accepted to his university’s exclusive exchange program, taken a plane across an ocean, moved to a foreign country - but now he gets lost on the sprawling UCLA campus, and in between sentences trying to make friends with strangers, and in his head, trying to remember why he’d meekly followed his parent’s wish to see him earn a business degree.

And now, on one of Namjoon’s rare days away from the boredom of marketing courses, trying to do something that actually interested him and find this record shop, here Namjoon is. Lost again.

Maybe he had gotten off at the wrong stop after all. The announcements on the bus had been soft and muffled. Namjoon hadn’t been able to see any of the scrolling signs past a large group of teenagers, just out of school and rowdy with the freedom of it.

Or maybe this is the right stop, but it’s so crammed with tourists that Namjoon can’t see anything useful. He lets the throng push him forward for a bit, hoping for guidance from the wisdom of crowds. That hope is quickly dashed.

Namjoon manages to slip free of the current and duck down a side street. He wanders roughly in the direction that he thinks the store should be for a block, but he still doesn’t see it.

His phone isn’t offering any useful information, so he tries switching to a different map app, but that doesn’t seem to help either. Maybe it’s the signal? Namjoon has found it can be spotty, even in the city.

Maybe Namjoon should turn around. At least back there is a crowd of people to ask. Here, there’s no one. An ordinary, empty street in the middle of the day with plain storefronts, not designed to draw in tourists. Some only show the street number - leaving it up to the visitor to know what’s inside. The businesses that are labeled are ordinary - a dentist, an accountant, a preschool.

It’s hot. The Los Angeles sun is even more relentless here than the shady UCLA campus. Namjoon is sweating. “Come on, Namjoon-ah,” he mutters to himself, giving up on the phone and looking around for a street sign. “You can figure this out.”

“Are you lost?” A voice rumbles out from the narrow band of shade pooled along the edge of the building Namjoon has just passed.

Namjoon startles, he hadn’t realized there was anyone there. But then he registers that the voice was speaking Korean. He turns around quickly.

“Um, a little,” he says, squinting against the bright sun to find the person hidden in the shadow.

The voice had been low and a bit gruff. Namjoon had expected an older man, but the guy that steps out into the sun is young. The unhappy expression he makes as the sunlight hits his face, squishes his soft features in a way that makes Namjoon estimate his age even further down. Namjoon’s age, maybe younger.

Behind the man a chipping sign labels the business as a dance studio. That makes sense, both because of the stretchy, athletic clothes the man is wearing and because of the lithe figure they show off.

Namjoon tries not to stare, especially when the grumpy expression smooths out, revealing pretty, delicate features. Namjoon isn’t good around pretty people. A pretty dancer is completely out of his depth, but the man is speaking again before Namjoon can spiral too much. “Where are you trying to go?”

A simple question. “Um, Amoeba Records.” Namjoon tilts his useless phone toward the man as if that will help.

The man’s polite expression turns to something a little more genuine. “That’s a cool spot. You’re into music?”

Music is probably super important to dancers, right? So that’s like...something they have in common. “Oh yeah. It’s- Actually, I write my own sometimes.” Namjoon responds with an un-suave eagerness.

The man doesn’t seem to notice Namjoon’s awkwardness. “Really? What kind?”

“Oh, I, um, rap mostly.” That’s probably not what dancers are into. They probably like...classical music, or ballads, or EDM, or something.

But against all odds, the man’s expression shifts from casual attention to intent interest. It changes something in his face, making Namjoon aware of his sharp, intelligent eyes. And then, this random stranger is asking the kind of questions that Namjoon has always wanted someone to ask about his music. And he’s listening to Namjoon’s responses and asking smart follow-up questions too. He clearly knows a lot about music. Namjoon finds himself struggling to keep up, but in the best way. A challenge like none of Namjoon’s dry business courses.

They’re both talking a little too quickly, both excited to find a like minded person so randomly. Sure, Los Angeles is a big city, with a large Korean community, and it’s the center of the American music business on top of that. Just statistically, there has to be other Korean-speaking hip hop enthusiasts out there, but stumbling on each other like this feels a little like fate.

But. Eventually, there’s a lull. Namjoon misses a beat in the conversation, distracted by a trickle of sweat running down his back. The other man suddenly seems to realize how much he’s been talking and falls silent.

Strangely, his shyness makes Namjoon feel more confident. It always easier when he’s not alone in his awkward moments. “I’m Kim Namjoon. I’m doing a semester abroad at UCLA.”

The man nods, but he still seems shy, offering his own name and no more. “Min Yoongi.”

“Are you from Los Angeles?” Namjoon tries.

The man shakes his head. “No, Korea. I’m here…” He trails off, seeming uncertain.

“To dance?” Namjoon asks, nodding at the sign behind Yoongi.

Yoongi turns looking at the sign as if for the first time. He laughs a little. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here to work on my dancing.”

“You must be a good dancer,” Namjoon offers awkwardly.

Yoongi tilts his head, something amused in his expression. “Why?”

“Uh, well to come to the U.S. to train. And um, you know.”

Yoongi only looks curious.

“You have such a great body.” Namjoon blurts and then immediately regrets it. “I mean, uh, for dancing.”

Yoongi’s gaze turns sharp again, examining Namjoon like Yoongi can see right down to the marrow of him. For a moment, Namjoon is sure that Yoongi is going to say something about how obviously Namjoon wants him. Hopefully nothing homophobic, but who knows. For all their quick connection, Yoongi is still a stranger. But then Yoongi just smiles, soft and a little conspiratorial, and somehow more beautiful than ever.

Before either of them can say anything more, another guy steps out of the building, also wearing stretchy dance clothes, including a tank top that’s cut low on the sides, easily showing twice as much skin as Yoongi’s baggy t-shirt. This new man is handsome too, maybe even more classically handsome than Yoongi, but looking at him, Namjoon only wishes that Yoongi were the one wearing that shirt.

“Hyung, there you are,” the new guys says, already turning back inside. “We’re starting again in a minute.”

Yoongi nods, and then, as if none of the rest of it had happened, gives Namjoon directions to the record store, precise and clear. He stops after each step to make sure that Namjoon understands, a thousand times more helpful than Namjoon’s unreliable phone.

Namjoon thanks Yoongi, already a little sad at the idea of ending this weirdly fateful meeting, but Yoongi, not quite meeting Namjoon’s eyes, says, “We should hang out some time.”

Namjoon can only nod. He’s already had a better conversation with Yoongi in five minutes than he’s had with anyone from school in a month. He wants nothing more than to have another one.

Yoongi nods back, and holds out his hand for Namjoon’s phone, entering his information and texting himself in a rush as yet another stunningly handsome man pokes his head out of the dance studio door to call Yoongi in. Maybe all dancers are hot? Genetics or something?

Yoongi disappears back into the building and Namjoon takes a deep breath before replaying Yoongi’s directions in his head. He finds the store easily and loses nearly three hours there, wandering the aisles. He has to take the bus back during rush hour, which nearly doubles the length of the trip, but it’s worth it.

#

Honestly, Namjoon hadn’t really thought Yoongi would message him. Probably Yoongi had only been being polite when he’d put his number in Namjoon’s phone. Probably the minute Namjoon was out of his sight, Yoongi had forgotten him.

But when Namjoon wakes up in the morning, he finds that Yoongi has written. A question in the middle of the night, asking if Namjoon had found any good records. And Namjoon, before he even brushes his teeth or washes his face, spends a moment sending Yoongi a picture of the records he’d bought and a much longer message about all the records Namjoon would have bought if he wasn’t going to have to figure out how to get them back to Korea.

It’s only after he’s sent the message (in the middle of brushing his teeth) that it occurs to Namjoon that it must be pretty early for someone who was up to send a message at two in the morning. But by the time Namjoon finishes, his face still damp from its morning scrub, Yoongi has already replied.

That’s the start of a whole week of messages. As far as Namjoon can tell, Yoongi never sleeps, the longest gaps between replies coming in the middle of the day when Yoongi is presumably at dance practice. It’s a little worrisome - unhealthy or possibly a sign that Yoongi is a vampire. Even so, Namjoon feel warm at the quick responses.

Yoongi’s messages are always interesting - a mix of short dry jokes and lengthy rambles on music. And sometimes, Yoongi sends selfies.

Yoongi is good at taking selfies. Really, really good. Or maybe it’s just easy for beautiful people. Either way, the pictures make Namjoon think thoughts that he really shouldn’t think about his new friend. This nice guy who offered Namjoon directions when he was lost. Just a guy who is funny and knows and likes the kinds of music that Namjoon likes. Who is, Namjoon has discovered, older and maybe wiser despite his terrible sleep habits.

A guy who probably didn’t think anything of the way his shirt offered a tantalizing peek of his collarbones in that picture. Or the slightest hint of tongue showing in the one after that.

And so, Namjoon shouldn’t think about the soft pout of Yoongi’s mouth in his photos. Namjoon definitely shouldn't think about what it might feel like against his own mouth, or… or anywhere else.

Namjoon shouldn’t think about sliding his hand into Yoongi’s loose shirt, or touching Yoongi’s collarbones, or his chest, or his stomach.

Namjoon really tries not to think about any of those things. Some days (some photos), he’s more successful than others.

If Namjoon was surprised that Yoongi messaged him, keeps messaging him, he’s even more surprised when Yoongi announces that he has a free evening on Friday and suggests they meet up. Surprised, but definitely pleased.

Namjoon meets Yoongi at the bus stop in the late afternoon heat, Yoongi’s orange bus pulling into line behind the row of blue buses already idling there. Yoongi lopes over, posture casually slouched in a way that Namjoon wouldn’t expect from a dancer, but that seems effortlessly cool nonetheless.

In person, Yoongi looks even better than Namjoon remembered. He’s wearing jeans and a dark flannel shirt over a t-shirt, different from the workout clothes he wore when they met and in all his subsequent selfies. It looks like he styled his hair too.

Namjoon tries not to gawp, and he must succeed in not making any horny cartoon faces, because Yoongi smiles at Namjoon. Not the sly smirk he tends to wear in his selfies, but something sweeter and happier.

The sight makes Namjoon’s heart flip in his chest. He has to remind himself again that Yoongi is probably straight, or whatever his sexual orientation, definitely too cool and too hot to be interested in clumsy, freshman Namjoon. He’s only here because Namjoon happens to be a reminder of home in this foreign city, and because they share a love of music. Which is fine, Namjoon feels the same way. It’s just that Namjoon would also like it if Yoongi wanted to-

Namjoon cuts off that train of thought. “Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” Yoongi replies, casual and cool. All the things Namjoon is not.

Accordingly, Namjoon finds himself struggling to find a response that isn’t just repeating ‘hi’ again. “Did you- Did you want a tour of campus, or are you hungry, or…?”

Yoongi tilts his head a little, studying Namjoon as if he doesn’t quite know what to make of him. Namjoon half expects Yoongi to get right back on the bus and just ride it out to the ocean rather than spend any more time with Namjoon. But what Yoongi says is, “I could eat. Didn’t have any time after practice.”

It’s a little bit early for dinner in Namjoon’s opinion, but the cafeteria is open. The only problem is… “It’s kind of a walk, but, uh, at least this way you’ll get to see the pretty parts of campus?”

Yoongi smiles again seemingly unbothered, so Namjoon leads him down the hill and back up the other side, offering what scattered pieces of campus history he can remember from the tour he took when he arrived. Namjoon’s memory gets even worse when he notices that Yoongi’s jeans have artful tears in them, showing glimpses of Yoongi’s pale knees and thighs.

It’s a relief when they get to the cafeteria, Namjoon swiping them both in before Yoongi can offer to pay. The cafeteria that’s closest to Namjoon’s dorm, the one he usually goes to, is the biggest, with a range of options that had seemed dizzying at first, and then grew dull after every day repetition. It doesn’t matter though, because Yoongi doesn’t eat much, selecting a piece of chicken and a salad. Namjoon supposes that dancers must have strict diets, but it makes him feel hungrier just watching Yoongi pick out the croutons from his salad.

It’s not Namjoon’s business, not really, but he’s still relieved when Yoongi joins him at the soft serve machine for dessert, even if Yoongi laughs at the sheer number of toppings that Namjoon takes. Namjoon lets him, just happy to see Yoongi have something more interesting than chicken and lettuce, even if it’s only plain vanilla ice cream.

Yoongi eats his ice cream slowly, taking longer to finish his small portion than it takes Namjoon to wolf down his entire cup of cookie crumbles, sprinkles and gummies. Yoongi finishes the last bite, and then licks the spoon clean. The little flashes of his tongue make Namjoon feel as warm as if he’d just swallowed a pot of boiling tea, instead of cold ice cream.

Yoongi says, “You should show me your dorm room,” and Namjoon feels even warmer.

Namjoon nods dumbly, reminding himself that Yoongi doesn’t mean anything by it. Maybe Yoongi wants to listen to music. Maybe he’s just interested in American dorm life.

Indeed, Yoongi looks curiously around them as Namjoon leads him to the elevator and then down the hall to his room. It’s a Friday night, but still early enough that most people are napping or otherwise resting in preparation for the night out, whatever that means to them. Later, there will be more activity, people trading clothes and gathering in not so subtle groups to drink whatever cheap alcohol they’ve managed to get their hands on, the smell of the liquor mixing with the haze of body spray, illicit vapes, and hair gel in a scent that’s come to signal a campus weekend to Namjoon.

Namjoon wonders if that’s what Yoongi wants. That college experience. Despite his awkwardness, Namjoon manages to get enough invites that he’s sure he can make that happen for Yoongi. If that’s what Yoongi wants. Namjoon can take him to a party and watch him pick up a girl just like any American college movie.

Namjoon pushes the thought away. A problem for future Namjoon.

He gestures to his dorm door with a flourish that makes Yoongi smile at him. Future Namjoon can suck it, things are going great for present Namjoon.

At least until he opens his door and is abruptly reminded that he has a roommate.

Steve, Namjoon’s roommate, is a nice guy actually. A fellow international student, from Taiwan. He’s incredibly popular and therefore rarely around, but he’s unfailingly nice to Namjoon when he is, always inviting Namjoon to whatever event is happening that day. Namjoon usually doesn’t have any complaints about Steve, but today his existence is suddenly unwelcome.

“Oh,” Namjoon says stupidly, as if finding Steve in his own room somehow constitutes a surprise.

Steve looks up from where’s sitting on the floor playing video games. “Hey, Nam- Oh,” he says too. Surprise is more fair on his part. Namjoon pretty much never brings company back to their room. Or maybe Steve’s surprised by the way Yoongi is suddenly plastered to Namjoon’s side.

Honestly, Namjoon is surprised by that too, all the air leaving his lungs at the feeling of Yoongi against him, so that his racing heart seems to echo in the hollow chamber of his chest for a moment. But maybe- Well… Namjoon hasn’t heard Yoongi speak any English yet. Maybe that’s why he’s suddenly shy?

Whatever it is, his proximity is making Namjoon’s thoughts staticky and unclear like a flickering light-bulb about to go out. “Uh, Yoongi-ssi, this is my roommate, Steve Li. Steve, this is Min Yoongi.”

Namjoon thinks he said all the right bits in all the right languages, but who knows for sure? Yoongi’s hand is resting on his stomach, and just the knowledge of that fact is using most of Namjoon’s mental energy.

Steve’s video game character dies on screen, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice, scrambling to his feet. “Okay. Right. Okay, cool. I guess I’ll go?” Namjoon doesn’t respond, but Steve seems to come quickly to a conclusion anyway. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go. See you tomorrow, I guess? Or text me when the coast is clear?”

Namjoon nods, not sure why Steve, who loves to meet new people, is suddenly so eager to leave, but absolutely not going to argue.

Steve gathers his wallet and shoes, and waves at Yoongi awkwardly. He slips out the door making an expression at Namjoon that Namjoon can’t quite interpret. It involves a lot of eyebrow work, but Namjoon is pretty sure it’s not anger, so he’ll worry about the details later.

Once the door has closed behind Steve, Yoongi detaches himself from Namjoon’s side and points at one of the beds. “This one yours?”

Namjoon nods, still trying to figure out what just happened. He’s totally unprepared for Yoongi to flop onto the bed as if testing the bounce of the mattress. It’s- Wow.

But it’s a dorm room, where else is Yoongi going to sit?

While Namjoon’s brain is still trying to recover from that, Yoongi shrugs out of his flannel shirt, leaving just the t-shirt. He looks up at Namjoon, the sly smirk from his selfies back. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Okay, Namjoon’s brain must have finally burned out. “Do...this?”

Yoongi’s smirk deepens, whatever shyness he’d had around Steve gone. “Yeah. I was hoping you’d fuck me, but I’m open to suggestions.”

Namjoon just gapes at Yoongi. Is Namjoon asleep right now? He’s had a couple of dreams along these lines, but he’s like ninety percent sure he’s still awake. His dreams are never so linear.

Yoongi’s smirk turns to something uncertain. “That is what’s happening here, right?”

In the face of all the fantasies he’s been repressing about Yoongi starting to come true at the same time, Namjoon only manages an, “Uh...”

Yoongi’s expression shutters. He turns away from Namjoon, and pulls his flannel shirt back on. “Okay, clearly I misread this.”

Just as suddenly as Namjoon’s filthy dreams were about to come true, they’re about to slip away. “No!” Namjoon says, panicked and much too loud.

Yoongi freezes in the middle of patting his pockets, making sure he has everything, a clear prelude to leaving.

“I mean. I thought you just wanted to be friends, so like- But wow, I have never been so happy to be wrong.”

Yoongi looks skeptical. “I don’t think I was particularly subtle.”

And Namjoon, running back through the way that Yoongi had glared at Steve until they had the room to themselves, or the way he’d smiled at Namjoon earlier, or the flirty selfies he’d sent, or- Wow, okay, yeah. The way he’d insisted that they exchange numbers right after Namjoon had complimented his body in that extremely obvious way… Yeah, Namjoon can see it now. “I uh, I’m kind of bad at this. And like, I didn’t think- I mean, you’re so hot and like...a dancer which is so cool, and I’m just like…” Namjoon gestures at himself in a way that he hopes conveys what a mess he is.

Yoongi is frowning now, but at least he’s not moving to leave. “It’s very flattering that you think I’m out of your league or whatever, but do you really not know that you are extremely hot?”

That doesn’t sound right to Namjoon.

Yoongi glares at him firmly. “Leagues are bullshit first of all. But if they existed, there’s no way I’m out of yours. Zero.” Yoongi gestures at Namjoon with a very different flair than Namjoon had gestured at himself. “You’re tall, you have a great body, a handsome face, and you’re obviously really smart.” Yoongi grimaces a little. “Well. At some things anyway.”

Namjoon’s (reportedly handsome) face feels hot. “Okay. So um, do you still want to…?”

Yoongi’s glare softens slightly and he pats the bed next to him.

Namjoon sits, not sure how close he should get, but Yoongi slides over until their thighs are pressed right up against one another.

Namjoon turns to look at Yoongi. They are so close that Namjoon can see Yoongi’s delicate eyelashes, the way they frame Yoongi’s sharp eyes. He’s watching Namjoon thoughtfully.

“Can I kiss you?” Yoongi asks, much more carefully than he’d suggested that Namjoon fuck him only a moment earlier.

Namjoon nods, and then, before Yoongi can move, says, “Wait.”

Yoongi waits.

“Um. It’s probably really obvious, but I guess you should know that I haven’t done this before.”

Yoongi’s cautious expression softens into something very gentle. Namjoon doesn’t know if it makes him feel more or less embarrassed, but he likes it anyway. “At all?”

“No, I just mean- With a guy.”

“But you want to?”

“Yeah, I do. I just haven’t had the chance.”

Yoongi laughs a little, but gentle like his expression. “Based on the last ten minutes, I’m going to assume that you’ve missed more than a few chances. I bet these college boys have been throwing themselves at you and you just haven’t noticed.”

Yoongi touches Namjoon’s arm, lightly tracing over the muscle Namjoon has gained since beginning college. Namjoon had started going to the gym because it seemed like an easy way to make friends with some of the guys in his dorm, but he’d liked the way the exercise felt, and now, months later, the results. Apparently, Yoongi likes it too. “Their loss is my gain though, so I’m not going to waste any time feeling sorry for them.”

Namjoon, feeling bold, puts his hand on Yoongi’s leg, slipping a finger into one of the rips in Yoongi’s jeans and touching the warm skin of Yoongi’s thigh. Namjoon’s palm looks big against Yoongi’s slender leg. “My gain too. Even before- When I didn’t think you wanted this, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Those pictures you sent. Fuck.”

Yoongi laughs again, low and pleased this time.

The sound makes Namjoon shiver. He looks at Yoongi, and says, “You can kiss me if you want. I don’t have any other announcements.”

Yoongi smiles at him, amused, but warm. “Okay.”

And then he kisses Namjoon.

He’s a good kisser. Confident, but not overwhelming. And when Namjoon catches his breath enough to remember that he’s done this plenty of times before, and that lips are lips, Yoongi lets Namjoon kiss him how he likes, lets Namjoon get his fill of that sweet pout.

Yoongi pulls away from Namjoon eventually, but only to scramble back into Namjoon’s bed. He gestures for Namjoon to follow, but Namjoon is already crawling in after him, ready to follow him anywhere.

They curl together there, in Namjoon’s unmade bed. Namjoon is suddenly, belatedly glad that he’d managed to spill soup in his bed only a couple of days ago, because he’d been forced to wash all his bedding. It had seemed like a huge inconvenience at the time, but Namjoon doesn’t usually bother with it all that often since he’s the only person sleeping in his bed, and retrospectively it seems extremely fortuitous.

Yoongi kisses Namjoon again, and then slides his hands up under the hem of Namjoon’s shirt. “An important first step is getting naked.”

Namjoon laughs. “Wow, thank you, Yoongi-seonsaengnim. I don’t know what I’d do without your wisdom.”

Yoongi laughs too. He leans back in Namjoon’s pillows. “Given what we’re about to do, I think maybe you could just call me hyung.”

Namjoon can’t help kissing him again. “Okay, hyung.”

Yoongi kisses back for a second then pushes Namjoon away. “Step one.”

Namjoon would normally feel a little awkward about stripping while someone watches, but he’s too hungry for Yoongi to worry about it. Besides, Yoongi has made his appreciation for Namjoon’s body pretty clear and that makes Namjoon feel more confident than usual.

And indeed, Yoongi’s eyes are dark and approving when Namjoon shuffles backward in the bed, to kneel between Yoongi’s legs and pull off his shirt. Namjoon hesitates there, hands hovering at the waistband of his pants, but Yoongi pokes his thigh with a socked toe. “Naked.”

So, Namjoon shoves his pants and underwear down together and then awkwardly works his way out of them. He only just remembers to take his socks off too.

When Namjoon is finished, he finds Yoongi watching him with an obvious hunger despite all Namjoon’s fumbling. Yoongi pulls his legs tighter around Namjoon, caging Namjoon in, the denim of his jeans sliding against Namjoon’s bare thighs. “Somewhere, there are some college boys feeling very jealous and they don’t even know why.”

Namjoon’s face feels warm, but in a good way. There’s something about being completely naked for Yoongi while Yoongi is still fully dressed that sends a shiver down Namjoon’s spine. But Namjoon has been wanting to see Yoongi’s body since the very first moment Yoongi had stepped out of that sliver of shadow wearing those clinging clothes. “What about step two?”

Yoongi smiles a little. “What’s step two?”

“I think it should be, ‘Get your partner naked.’”

Yoongi relaxes his legs, letting Namjoon free from their nominal prison. “Okay.”

Namjoon shuffles further back on the bed. He lifts Yoongi’s foot into his bare lap and pulls off Yoongi’s sock. Yoongi’s expression is surprised. Maybe he expected Namjoon to ask him to take off his own clothes? But Namjoon wants to do this. Wants to peel back Yoongi’s layers himself, to reveal all the bits of skin that Yoongi’s teasing selfies have been hinting at.

Namjoon puts Yoongi’s foot on the bed and picks up the other one to repeat the process.

Yoongi’s bare feet are long and bony, dark hair on the toes. Namjoon isn’t really a foot guy, but somehow he finds Yoongi’s feet, undelicate as they are, as pretty as the rest of him.

Namjoon shuffles back up and reaches for the button on Yoongi’s jeans. A glance up at Yoongi earns him a quick nod, so he carefully undoes the button and the zip and then peels them off. Yoongi lifts his hips and legs to assist, which is much needed given how tight they are.

Yoongi’s legs are as slender as Namjoon had imagined, his ankles looking particularly dainty next to his bony feet. Namjoon can’t help testing a theory, and finds that, yes, Namjoon can easily circle Yoongi’s entire ankle with one hand.

He glances up again to see Yoongi watching him quietly, apparently willing to let Namjoon touch how he likes, so Namjoon pushes higher. The ring of his fingers isn’t quite enough to close around Yoongi’s calf, but Namjoon’s two hands together easily slide up Yoongi’s leg, past his knobbly knee, all the way to where the leg of his black boxer briefs start. Namjoon slips a thumb just under the hem of them. His knuckles accidentally brush against the soft shape of Yoongi’s balls, hidden under warm fabric. Yoongi’s thigh tenses, but he doesn’t move otherwise.

Namjoon takes his hands off Yoongi for a moment. Leans back on his heels and urges Yoongi to sit up enough for Namjoon to ease off his flannel and then his t-shirt. Yoongi is pretty there too, his skin pale and smooth except for the places where dark hair shows stark against his skin.

His shoulders are broader than Namjoon would have thought, and his chest is lightly muscled. Namjoon runs his hands over it, feeling the muscle and the peaks of Yoongi’s nipples, down over the place where Yoongi’s ribs sit close under the skin, and to his stomach along the line of hair leading to the waistband of Yoongi’s underwear.

Namjoon can see the shape of Yoongi’s dick through the soft fabric - hard just from this, just like Namjoon.

Namjoon looks up at Yoongi once more and finds Yoongi still watching Namjoon, still patient.

Namjoon moves his hand, just enough to rest over the heat of Yoongi’s clothed cock, something new and yet, of course, familiar. Namjoon moves his hand a little, not quite stroking, but enough that a little breath of air audibly escapes Yoongi. Namjoon feels Yoongi get just a little bit harder under his hand.

It’s a nice feeling. Namjoon slides his fingers under the band of Yoongi’s underwear and pulls them carefully off, down past Yoongi’s perfect legs and his bony feet.

Yoongi’s dick is as pretty as the rest of him and it fits perfectly in Namjoon’s hand, hot and hard. He strokes it a couple of times, getting used to the new angle.

Yoongi’s fingers twist in Namjoon’s bedding, but his voice is perfectly level when he says, “Come here.” He reaches up and tugs Namjoon down into a kiss, pulling Namjoon over on top of himself.

Namjoon tries to keep his weight off Yoongi, not wanting to crush him, but Yoongi tugs harder and Namjoon lets himself fall against Yoongi, lets himself be put where Yoongi wants him.

And Yoongi knows what he’s doing, because he feels so good under Namjoon. So good. All warm skin and muscle. His mouth is open and wet under Namjoon’s and that’s good too. He shifts, moving under Namjoon and that’s even better. His cock is rubbing against Namjoon’s own and fuck-

Namjoon can’t help rutting against Yoongi then, dragging his cock along the heat of Yoongi’s erection, and then against the soft skin of Yoongi’s abdomen and then again and again.

Namjoon feels young and a little wild with it, all his careful explorations, and all the finesse he’s ever learned slipping away, the kiss turning sloppy. Desperate. Namjoon just wants to press himself against Yoongi, into Yoongi, onto Yoongi, whatever Yoongi will allow, as close as Yoongi will allow.

Yoongi allows it. In fact, his strong hands are on Namjoon encouraging, pulling at his hips and then his back. His mouth is open for Namjoon, and his body moves up to meet Namjoon’s frantic rutting.

It hardly takes any time at all for Namjoon to feel himself slipping close to the edge, precome beginning to slick the way and making the sensations even better. He should stop, he should- Namjoon has always been so bad at that kind of self control. When he jerks off he can never quite make himself draw it out, coming fast enough that it would be embarrassing if it wasn’t a solo activity.

He appeals to Yoongi, “Hyung, I-”

Yoongi doesn’t stop him though. “It’s okay, Namjoon-ah. Whatever you need.”

And to that Namjoon can only make an embarrassing noise and bury his face in Yoongi’s neck, breathing in his cologne and the salt of his sweat, and the smell of his skin. Namjoon can only hold Yoongi’s tight dancer’s body close, and thrust against Yoongi’s hip, into the slide of his own precome as the pleasure tightens and tightens in him and finally bursts, sending shivering shockwaves through Namjoon’s whole body.

Namjoon lays there for a moment, Yoongi under him, his broad hands now running soothing strokes along Namjoon’s back as Namjoon tries to catch his breath. When Namjoon’s breath and reason have both returned, he says, “Fuck.”

Yoongi laughs, but it’s not a mean sound and when Namjoon musters the courage to look at Yoongi’s face, he doesn’t seem annoyed even with Namjoon’s come cooling on his stomach and his own erection starting to flag.

“It’s fine,” he says. “With that kind of enthusiasm, I bet you can go again.”

Namjoon brightens. That’s true.

Yoongi clearly reads it on his face, and smiles at him. “Besides, it’s flattering how much you wanted that.”

“You’re really, really very hot. Just in case you didn’t know,” Namjoon offers helpfully.

“I’m not the one with weirdly low self-esteem,” Yoongi says, but Namjoon can tell he likes being told anyway and he moves closer to kiss Namjoon.

Once Yoongi has been thoroughly kissed, Namjoon leans over the edge of the bed and finds a dirty t-shirt. He uses it to mop up the mess he’d left on Yoongi.

Yoongi watches, obviously amused by Namjoon’s cleaning techniques, but what he says is, “I mentioned you fucking me before, is that something you want?”

Namjoon looks at him sharply, not sure how to convey how very, very much Namjoon wants that. “Yes, of course. But, I’ve never- You trust me to do that?”

“I’ll show you, don’t worry.”

Namjoon nods.

Yoongi touches Namjoon’s shoulder, running his hands idly down Namjoon’s arm. Namjoon resists the urge to flex. “Do you have condoms and lube? Step three.”

Namjoon finds the lube easily enough, tucked in the desk drawer next to the bed, theoretically hidden under his post-it notes. He has to get out of bed to find the condoms though. A box optimistically bought at the beginning of the semester.

Only one has been used. A girl Namjoon met at a party only a day after the purchase. She was extremely direct about what she wanted from him both in getting him into bed and then once they were there. Not that different from Yoongi, who is watching Namjoon calmly from where he’s arrayed himself on Namjoon’s pillows. Maybe Namjoon has a type.

Namjoon puts the condoms and the lube both on the desk next to Yoongi.

Yoongi picks up the bottle and inspects it. He seems satisfied with what he finds. He hands it back to Namjoon. “Okay, lube first. Step three point one.”

Namjoon takes it.

Yoongi asks, “Have you had anal sex with a girl?”

Namjoon shakes his head. He does know what to do in theory. He’s read. He’s seen plenty of porn. But still, he appreciates it when Yoongi says, “Okay. So first you have to stretch your partner.” He nods to the lube. “You’ll want to keep things slick, although everyone has their own preferences and needs.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says, opening the bottle with a click. “Right.”

Yoongi shifts, pulling Namjoon closer, and then spreading his legs open so that Namjoon has a clear look at him. Pretty here too.

“One finger to start. If you’re not sure, go slow, but your partner should tell you what they need.”

“You’re so tight,” Namjoon can’t help saying, looking up at Yoongi uncertainly.

Yoongi is unbothered. “We’ll get there,” he says, so Namjoon keeps going, moving his finger in a way that he hopes will stretch things.

Yoongi watches him lazily. “Good. You must go to the gym, right? You stretch there. You know how to do this.”

Namjoon has always been rather lax on the stretching part of things, but he figures it’s best not to mention that. “Not as much as a dancer I bet.”

Yoongi laughs a little. “Ah, if you’re expecting me to be super flexible, I’m afraid I’m going to be a bit of a disappointment. Unfortunately, I’m only a mediocre dancer.”

Namjoon frowns at that. “You must be good, you came all the way to another country to study.”

Yoongi laughs again, a private joke that Namjoon doesn’t understand. “Well. There are worse.” He looks at Namjoon, with that sharp gaze that seems like it can see further into Namjoon than a person who has only known him for a week should be able to. “You like the dancer thing, don’t you?”

Namjoon flushes and turns back to his task. He does like the dancer thing, but who wouldn’t?

Yoongi still sounds amused when he says, “Okay, hyung won’t disappoint you by talking about his dance shortcomings.”

Namjoon doesn’t like that. It’s not like he only wants to fuck Yoongi because he’s a dancer. Yoongi could be a fast food worker, or an IT guy, or whatever and he would still be sexy. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, Namjoon-ah. Hyung is ready for another finger.”

As far as distractions go, it’s pretty effective.

Yoongi still feels impossibly tight around Namjoon’s fingers, but he’s still unbothered by it, patiently demonstrating with a gesture how Namjoon can most effectively stretch him.

“Does it feel good?” Namjoon has to ask.

“Hm,” Yoongi says thoughtfully. “It can, just like being touched anywhere during sex can feel good. But I’d say mostly it feels good to me because it’s all part of something that I know I like. All part of the journey.”

Namjoon laughs, moving his fingers in Yoongi. “That’s almost profound, hyung.”

Yoongi smiles back at him. “Do you want me to feel good?”

“Of course,” Namjoon says, offended.

“Do you know what you’re looking for? Let’s call it step four.”

Right. Of course. Namjoon crooks his fingers inside Yoongi, searching.

It’s easier to find than Namjoon thought it would be, both because Namjoon can feel it against his fingers in a way he hadn’t expected, and because Yoongi makes it obvious, arching up and saying in a voice, uneven for the first time, “Yeah. Yeah that’s- There.”

It runs through Namjoon like a fire, his cock hardening just at the sound of Yoongi’s voice. At Yoongi finally losing that cool calm.

Namjoon experiments, trying to find the way of touching Yoongi that makes him most eager, but Namjoon doesn’t come to any firm conclusions. All of it seems to build in Yoongi, until his hips are moving restlessly and he grabs Namjoon’s shoulder. “Come on, step five or whatever. Condom.”

“Are you sure?” He’s still so tight.

Yoongi is flushed, his face and down his chest, and most of all his cock, hard against his stomach. “Yeah, I- I like it this way.” He grinds his hips down, pressing Namjoon’s fingers further inside himself. “Listen to your partner, Namjoon-ah. The most important step.”

Namjoon nods and pulls his fingers out, startling a little at the desperate sound that Yoongi makes when Namjoon leaves him empty.

Namjoon manages to put on the condom without further instruction, even managing to remember at the last moment to wipe enough lube off his fingers so that the condom packet doesn’t turn elusively slippery.

Yoongi disproves his earlier claim about not being that flexible by slinging one leg over Namjoon’s shoulder. “Come on.”

If Namjoon thought Yoongi was tight around his fingers… fuck. He is so tight around Namjoon’s cock. Almost unbearably so. It has to hurt, but Yoongi urges Namjoon on, “It’s good. It’s good. Come on.”

When Namjoon finally can’t go any deeper, Yoongi mutters low and rough, “Just- Just a minute.” And then, “Fuck, you’re big.”

Namjoon flushes. It’s such a porn line, but Yoongi doesn’t even seem to notice, his sharp gaze turned hazy with a mix of pain and pleasure.

They stay there for a few more breaths. Namjoon presses a kiss against Yoongi’s knee where it’s resting on his shoulder and tries to think about his most tedious business management class rather than about how tight Yoongi is around him.

“Okay,” Yoongi says. “You can move.”

Namjoon, for all it makes him blush when someone points it out, is aware that he’s on the larger side. Even if fucking Yoongi is different in some ways, Namjoon is used to….a certain adjustment period with his partners.

And so, he starts slow, barely there thrusts, until Yoongi is no longer obviously trying to keep tension out of his muscles, and the undercurrent in his voice is pleasure, not pain.

Then Namjoon starts to fuck Yoongi in earnest. It takes a moment to find that spot again, but when Namjoon does, the low noise that Yoongi makes is completely gratifying.

God, he feels good around Namjoon, hot and tight, hips moving up to meet Namjoon’s rhythm. He sounds good too as Namjoon continues to fuck into him, his words of encouragement growing more slurred and eventually fading into a stream of appreciative noises. And he looks good, his pale skin flushed, pretty mouth open, sweat making his features glisten. Namjoon wishes he had this picture on his phone. Namjoon would save it forever.

Yoongi’s cock is trapped between them, and he’s desperately pushing against Namjoon, trying, Namjoon realizes, to get more friction. Namjoon doesn’t have the coordination to help in this position. “Step six, hyung. Touch yourself.”

It takes Yoongi two tries to shift his arm off Namjoon’s shoulder and reach in between them, jostled by the way Namjoon is fucking into him and uncoordinated in his pleasure. He manages it though. They’re close enough that Namjoon can feel Yoongi’s knuckles bumping against Namjoon’s stomach as he pumps himself.

Namjoon tries to match the frantic pace that Yoongi is sets, but doesn’t quite succeed. It doesn’t matter, because even with the slightly offbeat rhythm, it isn’t long before Yoongi makes a broken noise, his hand moving quicker than ever as he’s arching up, his body clenching around Namjoon, come splattering warm against Namjoon’s stomach and chest.

Freed from the pressure of holding out for Yoongi, Namjoon lets himself go, fucking into Yoongi with the same desperate need he’d spent on Yoongi’s hip earlier, but now fueled by Yoongi on him, around him, under him, even prettier than ever as the relaxed glow of orgasm warms his features. Namjoon comes before Yoongi has even caught his breath, deep in Yoongi, filling the condom with his second orgasm of the day.

Namjoon is still reeling a bit when Yoongi shoves his shoulder. “I’m really not flexible enough to take a nap like this, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon muzzily lifts himself up enough to let Yoongi unhook his leg from Namjoon’s shoulder. The movement causes Namjoon to slip out of Yoongi and he realizes he should probably take care of the condom.

Once on his feet, Namjoon contemplates Yoongi, who still looks perfectly relaxed in Namjoon’s bed even with the come and lube on his skin. “Do you want- I mean, if you want, there’s a shower.”

Yoongi studies Namjoon for a moment, and then reaches out to touch Namjoon’s hip. “Is it big enough for two?”

Namjoon hasn’t tried it himself, but he’s heard stories. “With some effort.”

Yoongi smiles at him. “We better test it out then.”

They don’t actually get off again, but they do kiss under the spray, sharing Namjoon’s body wash and shampoo. Afterward, as they dry off, Namjoon finds himself wanting to press his face into the nape of Yoongi’s neck, so that Namjoon can catch a whiff of the way that Yoongi smells like Namjoon now. Namjoon doesn’t though. It seems like a weirdly possessive desire for someone he’s met twice.

Afterward, they make out a bit more on Namjoon’s rumpled bed until Yoongi apologetically says he has to catch the bus. Apparently there’s some sort of dancer’s curfew.

Namjoon gets dressed too, walking him back across campus to the bus stop and waiting there in the streetlights with him, passed by a constant stream of sorority girls heading across campus for the Friday night frat parties. After Yoongi gets on the bus, Namjoon walks back across campus for the fourth time that evening, alone this time.

The room smells like sex when Namjoon gets back and he spends a little time trying to make it not smell like that before texting Steve that the coast is clear. When he picks up his phone to send the text, he finds a message from Yoongi, asking how Namjoon feels about meeting up the next time Yoongi has a free day. Namjoon is giddy at the idea of seeing Yoongi again and with the reassurance that Namjoon hadn’t been too much of an inexperienced mess for Yoongi. He texts back an enthusiastic agreement.

Steve doesn’t show up until the morning. There’s a hickey obvious on his throat that makes it clear that he hadn’t had any trouble finding a place to stay. As Namjoon had been falling asleep in the bed that still smelled a little like Yoongi’s cologne, it had occurred to him that he’d never mentioned to Steve that he liked guys, but Steve only offers him a congratulatory high five, erasing those worries.

#

Over the next week, Namjoon starts to wonder if Yoongi was right. About… Well, about Namjoon maybe missing some signs. After Yoongi had so explicitly demonstrated his interest, Namjoon starts to notice things that he hadn’t paid attention to before. Or maybe it’s just that Steve hadn’t been all that subtle in explaining why he was kicked out of their room that night. Maybe guys just know that Namjoon is a possibility now. It’s probably that. But either way, Namjoon is pretty sure that there are guys flirting with him. Handsome guys.

It’s almost too bad. Namjoon would have been very interested before, but now all he can think about is Yoongi. About the next time they can meet. About getting to touch Yoongi’s warm skin again, and kiss his sweet mouth. About how Yoongi felt under him, trapped between Namjoon and the mattress. About the noise Yoongi made when he came, and how he’d felt around Namjoon’s dick. Namjoon wants to experience all of it again, as many times as Yoongi will let him.

And Yoongi seems just as interested, still sending Namjoon dry jokes and coy selfies. Namjoon’s business classes are even less interesting now that he knows exactly what those pictures mean.

Yoongi has that Wednesday evening off and Namjoon does the awkward work of asking Steve to make himself scarce. Luckily, Steve seems to have hit it off with whatever person he’d gone home with last time and cheerfully makes his own plans.

The second time Namjoon gets Yoongi in his bed, he manages to fuck Yoongi without coming first. (With forewarning, Namjoon had made sure to jerk off in the shower before hand). This time, Yoongi asks Namjoon to fuck him from behind, explaining the position with a patient teaching tone that hovers somewhere between sincere and teasing. At least, until Namjoon manages to fuck it away.

After that, it becomes a regular thing. They meet whenever they can, fuck in Namjoon’s narrow bed, and then, if there’s time, shower and maybe eat a meal. Yoongi shows Namjoon every position he deems worth knowing, and, once, when he’s too sore from dance practice, gives Namjoon the best blowjob of his life. Afterward, he talks Namjoon through performing his very first blowjob, then kisses the taste of latex out of Namjoon’s mouth and falls asleep in Namjoon’s bed, curling in on himself sweet and small.

By then, Namjoon is familiar with both Yoongi’s curfew and the bus schedule, so he lets Yoongi sleep until he can’t any more and then wakes Yoongi as gently as he can (not too, Yoongi is a hard sleeper). Namjoon walks Yoongi to the bus stop and lets Yoongi rest against him there in the cool evening air, dozing against Namjoon’s chest until the bus comes. Yoongi takes a window seat and shoots Namjoon a small smile before immediately closing his eyes to nap again. Namjoon walks back to his dorm and his homework. As he works on his paper, he keeps an eye the clock so that he can message Yoongi before Yoongi reaches his bus stop. Hopefully it’s enough to wake Yoongi and he doesn’t end up all the way downtown.

In another world, Namjoon would try to ask Yoongi out. To take him to a nice restaurant, or a museum, or a movie, but looming over all of it is the fact that Namjoon is only here for a few months, and then a few weeks, and then days.

Namjoon’s classes rush by. He does well, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. But the connections he’s supposed to be making here in America all fade to the back of his mind. Instead, Namjoon remembers the music that Yoongi has introduced him to. Namjoon remembers the disagreements they’ve had, the debates. The ones Namjoon had won, the ones he’d lost, and, maybe the most entertaining, the ones that neither had won or lost - conversation shifting endlessly to a new topic without resolution.

The day arrives. The last day they can meet up. It falls right in the middle of Namjoon’s finals, but it’s the only day that Yoongi is going to have free before Namjoon’s flight home, so Namjoon resigns himself to an all-nighter.

Namjoon feels sad and slow, trying not to think about this being their last time, but unable to avoid it. Yoongi, on the other hand, is buzzing with a strange energy that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Namjoon or their last meeting. It’s still good somehow, even with Namjoon’s sadness and Yoongi’s giddiness. They still fit together just right. And afterward, Namjoon has to try. “I was thinking. Um, you know, if you ever make it back to Korea, maybe we could meet up sometime?”

Yoongi freezes where he’d been tracing a pattern on Namjoon’s chest. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s heart sinks.

“I would, Namjoon-ah, but well, I haven’t had the chance to tell you, but I just found out that I’ve been, um… cast in a show.”

“Oh. Here in the U.S.?” Namjoon wants to be happy for Yoongi. He is happy for Yoongi! He’s just still sad for himself.

“Uh… yeah. So- So I won’t be around and, um. You know. It’s going to keep me pretty busy.”

Namjoon understands a brush off when he hears it. It’s fine, it’s not like- It’s not like Namjoon was ever able to take Yoongi on a date anyway. That’s not what this was. It always had an expiration date and they had always both known it. “That’s- That’s great, hyung. Congratulations!”

Yoongi smiles. “Thanks. I guess I’m not such a bad dancer after all.”

“Of course you aren’t.”

And that’s it.

Yoongi has to leave and Namjoon tries not to kiss him goodbye with too much feeling. Tries to be casual because that’s what this is. That’s what Yoongi is. And that’s what Namjoon is too, of course.

Namjoon finishes his finals and flies back home.

#

It’s probably habit that leads Namjoon to message Yoongi. First, when Namjoon is bored in the airport, and then triumphant photos of his mother’s kimchi stew finally, and of the hotteok he buys with his father from the little stand a few blocks over from their house.

If Namjoon lets himself think about it (which he tries not to do), he might expect Yoongi not to reply or to let their communication fade out naturally, like Namjoon’s messages with Steve do. But as the break progresses, Yoongi continues to respond just as often as he had in Los Angeles. He might even talk more freely now, wistfully saying that he misses his brother’s cooking, when before the only thing Namjoon could have said about Yoongi’s brother was that he existed.

Maybe Namjoon should be the one to let go, but he’s as eager as ever for Yoongi’s humor, and his music opinions, and the little glimpses of his life that Yoongi allows in complaints about dance practice, or stories about his brother, or photos of himself.

Now that Yoongi has been cast in a show, he’s even busier. His messages come at strange hours, and he’s away from his phone in larger and larger blocks of time - once for a full day. The selfies he sends Namjoon reveal that a requirement of being in the show is dying his hair an unnatural red, which Yoongi seems uncertain about, but Namjoon assures him (truthfully) that he pulls it off.

Yoongi always looks good. Good enough that Namjoon wishes he wasn’t sleeping in his childhood bed. (Somehow having been away makes jerking off there even more awkward than it had been before.) Yoongi looks good, but he also looks tired, which is no wonder given his schedule. Namjoon wishes, pointlessly, that he could help.

And when Yoongi mentions that he doesn’t even have time to keep up with new music these days, Namjoon sees something that he can do. He offers to send Yoongi a few new songs a week, so that when Yoongi has a spare moment he’ll be able to listen without having to dig.

After he’s made the offer, Namjoon worries that it’s overstepping. How could Yoongi trust Namjoon to pick music for his infrequent spare time? But Yoongi seems genuinely pleased by the idea.

Namjoon probably puts more effort into this project than he should, but it’s the first time he’s really let himself have a music project of any sort since he started college. It’s not quite writing his own music, but after so long learning about finance, it feels almost as good. Namjoon finds himself thinking of new artists to add to his list at all sorts of random times, in the middle of hanging out with his high school friends, or when he’s reading, or during dinner with his family.

Yoongi’s responses are always thoughtful, even when they disagree. Namjoon finds himself watching his phone constantly so that he doesn’t miss the moment when Yoongi replies. Sometimes, if Namjoon responds right away, Yoongi will have a few more free minutes, and they can message back and forth almost like the conversations they used to have when they were in the same place.

Namjoon doesn’t think about what it might look like to other people, brushing off the teasing of his high school friends and his sister, both of whom will annoy Namjoon about anything. It’s not what they think anyway. He and Yoongi are just friends, and all their taunts about an American girlfriend are misplaced in so many ways.

Today, Yoongi had insightful and appreciative things to say about the last song Namjoon had sent. They’d even managed to message back and forth for a few minutes until Yoongi had been pulled away for a costume fitting. Namjoon scrolls back through the messages, wondering what Yoongi would say if he ever heard any of Namjoon’s songs. What he would think if Namjoon showed him some of the lyrics Namjoon hasn’t been able to help writing lately. Now that he’s let himself have music back in his thoughts fully.

His mother’s voice breaks into Namjoon’s musings. “You’ve been glued to your phone lately.”

Namjoon realizes that the book he’d theoretically been reading has fallen out of his lap and is lying on the ground. He leans down to pick it up, using the moment to hide his startled blush.

When he’s straightened the pages, he looks at her. She’s sitting across from him with a book of her own. She’s not reading either though. She’s looking at Namjoon, her expression quizzical.

“Have I?” Namjoon says and then regrets it.

She gives him an amused smile. “You have.”

“Oh.”

She puts a bookmark in her book and closes it. “Did you meet someone in the U.S.?”

Her expression is carefully neutral.

“What?” Namjoon says a little too fast. Then, “I mean, I met lots of people.”

She gives him another knowing look. “I meant, did you meet a girl?”

Namjoon feels relieved and more nervous all at once. She doesn’t know about Yoongi or about- About Namjoon. He certainly doesn’t plan on coming out over a casual relationship that’s already over. “No. Nothing like that.”

“You’re on your phone a lot.”

“It’s not- Just a hyung I met there.”

“Oh.” She looks puzzled now. “Another student?”

Namjoon pauses. She won’t like this. “No. He didn’t go to college.”

She does look disappointed. “How did you even meet?”

“Just coincidentally. We just talk about music sometimes. He’s in the arts.”

Her expression softens a little. She had always supported Namjoon’s music when it was just a hobby. Until it started to get in the way of what his parents considered to be a good future. But her tone is still warning when she says, “Well I hope that works out for him.”

The message is clear. What might work for Yoongi, won’t work for Namjoon.

Namjoon looks back at his phone. “Yeah, me too.”

#

Eventually, the new school year starts.

Namjoon is a little worried about it. There’s the horrible grind of going back to learning about finance and marketing bullshit, trying to decide which part of it is the least awful, which part Namjoon could imagine himself doing for his whole life. And then there’s- Well, there’s making friends.

Namjoon had done a poor job of it his first semester, already aware that he’d be gone the next. Besides, he spent most of his time with his fellow business students, even his roommate last year had been a business major. Namjoon was automatically suspicious of anyone who actually seemed to like the classes he’d loathed so much. He hadn’t done much better in the U.S. and all those people were far away now. Namjoon saw their social media posts every once and a while, but, aside from Yoongi, Namjoon barely kept up with any of them.

Namjoon does hear from the mentor the business school had assigned him, a sunbae named Seokjin. Seokjin had been very kind last year, managing to joke his way past Namjoon’s nervousness and he seems genuinely excited that Namjoon is back now. But Seokjin actually liked business which makes Namjoon feel like he has to pretend to care about it too. Which makes things awkward. And Seokjin is in his last year here and a school assigned mentor on top of that. Not a friend. Not exactly.

Namjoon has also exchanged a few messages with his soon-to-be roommate. It’s difficult to tell if they’ll really get along until they meet, but he seems normal enough.

So it’s a little bit of a surprise when Namjoon returns from replacing his student ID (he’s not sure what happened to the previous one, but it was nowhere to be found when he’d packed up his things) to find the guy who must be his new roommate plastering one side of the room in idol posters and photocards.

Namjoon pauses in the doorway staring at the bewildering number of photos of stylish and maybe slightly ridiculous men. They stare right back at him. They’re artistically arranged, Namjoon will give the guy that, but the effect is still somewhat startling.

Then the guy turns around and that effect is even more startling. He’s handsome in a way that makes Namjoon doublecheck the photos behind him to make sure they aren’t just like...headshots. But no, this guy has totally different features from the men behind him.

He smiles at Namjoon, open and friendly like he doesn’t know that he looks like that. “You must be Namjoon-ssi!”

Namjoon pulls himself together. “And you must be Kim Taehyung-ssi.”

Taehyung’s smile somehow brightens. “That’s me! It’s good to finally meet you in person.”

“You too.” Namjoon makes his way to his side of the room. Even turned away he can feel all the eyes on the wall staring at him. He sits on his bed. “You, uh, you’re settling in okay?” He tries to focus on Taehyung, but his gaze keeps drifting to the crowd of faces watching him over Taehyung’s shoulder.

“So far so good,” Taehyung says, still cheerful. He seems to notice the way Namjoon keeps looking behind him. “Oh! This is my soulmate, Park Jimin. He’s in The Original Boys, have you heard of them?”

Namjoon shakes his head and ventures a guess. “Is that a band?”

Taehyung smiles. “Yeah! They just debuted!”

Studying the photos again, Namjoon can see that they’re all of the same man, just styled in a variety of ways that makes him appear like he might be ten different people with ten different occupations (glamorously interpreted). But now that Namjoon knows, he can see the same warm eyes and generous mouth over and over.

Well, Namjoon has never followed idol music, aside from whatever becomes big enough to be inescapable, but music is music, so that’s something Namjoon has in common with his new roommate he supposes.

“Is that a problem?” Namjoon pulls his gaze away from the wall of Jimins to find Taehyung looking at him. For the first time Taehyung isn’t smiling.

Namjoon realizes he’d let a gap open in the conversation, and now he’s lost the thread of it. Is it a problem that Taehyung thinks a guy that he’ll probably never meet is his soulmate? Privately, Namjoon thinks it kind of is, but it’s a problem for Taehyung not Namjoon. Then he abruptly figures out what Taehyung means. Why Taehyung is starting to look uncomfortable. “Oh! No! I mean,” Namjoon steadies himself to match Taehyung’s impossible bravery. “I’m…” His words fail him and he gestures at himself vaguely.

Taehyung relaxes and his worried expression turns a little amused, but he makes Namjoon say it. “You’re…?”

Namjoon lets out both a deep breath and a flood of honesty. “You know. Still kind of hung up on the guy I was hooking up with in Los Angeles.”

Taehyung looks a little delighted and a lot sympathetic. “Oh, an American?”

“No, but he’s a dancer in a show there. So, you know. It wasn’t ever going to be a thing.”

Taehyung’s smile is back. “Oh a dancer! My Jiminie is a dancer. They’re the best and the worst, right?”

Well, Namjoon supposes that’s something else they have in common. Maybe he has one friend here.

#

Taehyung does turn out to be a good friend, if somewhat eccentric. He really seems to believe Park Jimin is his soulmate, whatever that means exactly, but Namjoon doesn’t think it’s doing any harm. Anyway, it’s nice to have a friend who isn’t going to judge Namjoon for being unreasonably into a guy he can’t have.

Taehyung is also a good friend because, whenever Namjoon is worrying about making other friends, he just goes somewhere with Taehyung, and, even if it’s just to the cafeteria, by the end of the trip, Namjoon has met anywhere between four and twenty new people that Taehyung somehow just knows.

Taehyung is also an art student. Is someone like Yoongi who has followed his dreams. Even if sometimes Namjoon worries that Taehyung should be a little more practical (like trying to fall in love with someone who isn’t merely a photo on the wall), Namjoon envies Taehyung too. He’s so much braver than Namjoon, so willing to embrace the things he likes, whether that’s art, men, or pretty idols.

But Taehyung is a good friend, and he never judges Namjoon for not doing those things. For not broadcasting his orientation in the same way, or for the practical, parent pleasing courses that Namjoon is suffering through.

Taehyung doesn’t judge him, but he does look out for Namjoon in little ways - reminding Namjoon to eat and not to leave his passcard in the room when he leaves for classes (again). Namjoon should probably find this embarrassing, since he’s the hyung, but it’s just kind of nice. Namjoon tries his best to return the favor by listening to endless information on Park Jimin and Taehyung’s ever-changing musings on their someday wedding (Taehyung still hasn’t quite decided on a location, or a season, but in every version all their family is there).

Today, Taehyung’s care taking impulse and his desire to talk about Park Jimin seem to overlap.

For the last hour, Namjoon has been trying to care about his marketing textbook. He has two chapters to read, which normally would be a breeze, but his mind seems to slip right off the words. He keeps hearing Seokjin-hyung telling him, when they met up for coffee last week, what a great class this was, how interesting Seokjin found it, how dynamic the professor had been. Namjoon’s lecture notes are mostly just draft after draft of some lyrics he’s been trying to work out - all about feeling trapped and the evils of capitalism. Not the sort of thing that goes over well in the business school, even if they suddenly became interested in song composition.

Taehyung must have noticed Namjoon’s growing frustration, because he interrupts Namjoon’s fourth attempt to read the same paragraph about brand awareness. “Hyung, have you seen Jimin perform yet?”

Namjoon blinks at him, confused for a few seconds, but then he sees that Taehyung is pointing to his computer screen. Namjoon shakes his head no.

“Take a break, just for a few minutes.”

It’s sweet that Taehyung is offering Namjoon this, Taehyung’s number one cure for all that ails, so Namjoon swallows down his usual knee jerk feelings about idol music and puts the textbook aside. He drags his chair across the room so he can see Taehyung’s computer screen. What can it hurt? If nothing else maybe it will be a story worth telling Yoongi. He hasn’t mentioned Taehyung’s idol music obsession to Yoongi so far, not wanting it to seem like he was mocking Taehyung.

Taehyung unplugs his headphones and smiles at Namjoon. “Ready?” Like Namjoon’s world is going to be overturned by this.

It’s kindly meant, sincere in that way of Taehyung’s. Namjoon smiles back at him. “Ready.”

“Okay, just so you know, this a music show performance.” Taehyung makes a thoughtful expression. “Maybe it’s better to start with the music video, but this way you get to see more of Jimin’s dancing so.”

“Well that’s the most important,” Namjoon agrees solemnly.

Taehyung nods, satisfied, and clicks start, letting the video play on his laptop screen and the music pour out from its cheap speakers.

It starts with a good hook right away, straight into a preview of what Namjoon imagines is the chorus. That’s the kind of structural thing Namjoon notices more after all his conversations with Yoongi.

The group is huge. They’re dancing precisely, and, at first, Namjoon thinks some of them must be backup dancers, but no, it’s just what seems like twenty young men, all perfectly made up. “How many people are there in this group?”

Taehyung grins. “Fifteen Original Boys.”

“Wow,” Namjoon says faintly.

It seems like too many to Namjoon, even as he can see how the numbers create interesting formations on stage. But there’s one of the guys, his big doe eyes making him seem younger than the rest, who is doing most of the actual singing.

They keep that guy in the center of a lot of the dance formations too, but there are a few others who seem to do most of the skilled moves, including Taehyung’s Jimin (who Taehyung points out every time he moves on the screen, as if Namjoon doesn’t recognize Jimin’s face almost better than his own, after weeks of it benevolently staring down at him).

Namjoon finds himself watching the guys in the back, wondering if this is what they dreamed of when they joined.

Namjoon’s eye keeps catching on one of them, something about his languid movement seems familiar somehow. He reminds Namjoon of-

The crowd of dancers move into a new formation and Namjoon gets a glimpse of the guy’s face. He is-

But no.

No. Yoongi is in the U.S. with some dance show that he’s never revealed to Namjoon. Right? Something that keeps Yoongi up at all hours, messaging Namjoon at what must be the middle of the night in Los Angeles. Namjoon is just-

Then both the music and the shape of the crowd shifts. One of the main dancers is now in front, somewhat inexplicably rapping and Yoongi (because it is Yoongi) is right behind him.

Before Namjoon can even begin to process that, the formation shifts again. Yoongi is in front now, rapping the end of the bridge and Namjoon starts to understand.

It’s only a few lines. Lines that have to fit into the context of the song - a fairly typical song about pining after a girl who doesn’t notice the singer (Singers? How does that work with a boy band with fifteen members? Are they all trying to get the same girl’s attention? Are there fifteen girls? Is it a metaphor?). There’s something sincere and memorable about Yoongi’s lines anyway. And Yoongi’s delivery is good, clear and passionate. He’s talented. Probably even better outside the constraints of this group.

This must be why Yoongi is there on that stage. He might have been in the U.S. to be trained to dance, but this is why he’d allowed it. As shocked as Namjoon is, it makes sense. Yoongi had never seemed half as interested in his dancing as hip hop, or music in general. Namjoon can see now, with the comparison to the other group members, why Yoongi always said he wasn’t a great dancer - although he’s still doing moves that Namjoon can’t even quite understand, much less imagine pulling off himself. But Yoongi’s not there to dance. Dancing is just the entrance fee to what he really wants to do.

After his handful of lines, Yoongi fades into the back of the crowd, but now that Namjoon knows he’s there, Namjoon can’t miss him. Even when Yoongi is mostly tucked away behind the others, Namjoon’s eyes are drawn to his familiar hands, the shape of his shoulders, the slightest glimpse of his profile.

The video ends, the shot back on the young man with the big eyes, who smiles prettily for the camera.

“You liked it, didn’t you! Your mouth was hanging open, hyung.”

Taehyung. Right.

Somehow in the shock of seeing Yoongi again, of seeing him in this unexpected place, Namjoon had forgotten about Taehyung. About why Namjoon had been watching this video in the first place.

“Um, yeah. It was very catchy. Can you- Uh, who was the rapper? Not the- I mean, the second guy?”

Taehyung laughs. “Suga? Is that your type? I thought you liked dancers?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Uh, well if he’s in a boy band that makes him a better dancer than like ninety percent of people, right?”

Taehyung is still laughing at him. “I suppose that’s true, hyung.”

Mercifully, after Namjoon produces some appropriately appreciative compliments for Park Jimin, who had, after all, been very good, Taehyung remembers that he’s supposed to meet one of his many friends, leaving Namjoon alone with his thoughts.

Namjoon’s marketing textbook lays forgotten. Namjoon open his computer instead, shutting the tabs he had open to various corporate websites. His paper on branding can wait. Instead, Namjoon opens tab after tab about The Original Boys.

He finds out that they’d only debuted two weeks before Namjoon’s semester started. Looking back, Namjoon can remember Yoongi being extra tired then, although he’d still responded to Namjoon regularly enough. Because the group is so new, there isn’t that much material online. Namjoon isn’t even sure how Taehyung has amassed such a sizable collection of posters, but Namjoon watches the official music video, then the official practice videos, then every music show performance he can find.

He goes to the group’s YouTube channel, with it’s behind the scenes videos, some of them even have footage from Los Angeles. Yoongi isn’t usually the focus, but he’s charming and has a knack for coaxing the others into mugging for the camera, so he’s often present, although off to the side, acting as a sort of de facto MC.

It’s so strange to see Yoongi like that. So familiar, but with a performative air that he’d never worn with Namjoon. All of his expressions and gestures a little bigger and brighter. It seems a little fake to Namjoon. At least compared to how Yoongi had been in the privacy of Namjoon’s dorm.

In some of the videos, Yoongi is only in the background. Namjoon finds him anyway, ignoring whatever other pretty person is talking in the foreground, to watch Yoongi - on his phone (could he be writing to Namjoon?), or napping, or patiently letting the younger members tease him.

Namjoon turns next to the music, only one mini album so far. Namjoon listens to it once all the way through. Solid pop. Not nearly enough Yoongi. He reads the liner notes, scanned in by a fan online. Yoongi is listed as a producer on three of the songs. Namjoon listens to them again, trying to catch hints of Yoongi in the music, through all the hands that must have worked on this song.

One of the songs doesn’t even have a rap verse, so it’s not just that they’re crediting Yoongi for those. He must have been working behind the scenes in addition to dance practice and photo shoots and whatever else being an idol requires.

That sounds right. That makes even more sense than Yoongi doing all this just to get on stage and rap half a bridge. To be allowed to make music? Namjoon thinks Yoongi would do a lot for that.

Taehyung comes back then, and Namjoon realizes how late it’s gotten. He forces himself to close the computer, to wash his face, brush his teeth, and go to sleep. In the morning, before his marketing class, he barely has time to skim through the chapters that he still hasn’t read. He’s glad he bothered when there’s a pop quiz.

When his classes are done for the day, Namjoon goes right back to his computer and all the open tabs on The Original Boys. He reads every article he can find, every interview they’ve given. With fifteen members, Yoongi rarely has more than a line per interview, and nothing all that interesting, but Namjoon reads them anyway.

He finds a fansite that seems to have collected hundreds of photos, group shots, but also individual photos of all the members including Yoongi.

The folder on Namjoon’s phone where he keeps Yoongi’s selfies starts to fill up with new pictures of Yoongi, pouting and painted just like Taehyung’s posters of Jimin. Yoongi is beautiful like that, and yet Namjoon thinks none of them quite capture how lovely he was in Namjoon’s dorm bed, spread out under Namjoon, or sleepy and relaxed after. None of them quite as beautiful as the smile Yoongi would give Namjoon when they kissed goodbye, or better yet, hello.

Namjoon is scrolling through these photos, lingering over one where Yoongi is sprawled over a chair, casually seductive (Is this why Yoongi is so good at selfies? Is it a practiced thing, or some innate quality that got him picked to be an idol and also makes all of his selfies little works of erotic art?). And that’s when Yoongi messages him. It’s the first time since Namjoon found out….all of this and Namjoon isn’t sure what to do.

The thing is, Namjoon understands why Yoongi kept this from him. Even not following idol music closely, Namjoon knows about dating bans and the scandals that follow idols who date. Never mind dating someone of the same sex. Never mind a casual gay sex hookup with some random college student. It would ruin Yoongi’s career before it even really started.

So Namjoon understands it.

Maybe he should tell Yoongi that he’s found out. Let Yoongi decide if he’s willing to take the risk of talking to Namjoon even with the knowledge out there.

But.

But staring at Yoongi’s message - a joke that’s so very Yoongi that Namjoon can almost hear Yoongi’s low drawl - Namjoon doesn’t want to lose Yoongi. Doesn’t want to bring an end to Yoongi’s funny messages, or his incisive analysis of music. The awkward, indirect way he comforts Namjoon when he thinks Namjoon might be having a bad day. The selfies, no make-up or elaborate sets, just Yoongi.

And it’s not like anything has really changed. Namjoon isn’t going to tell anyone. He isn’t going to insist that Yoongi meet him in person. Namjoon can pretend to believe that Yoongi is still overseas if that’s what makes Yoongi comfortable.

So.

So Namjoon doesn’t say anything. Only writes back as if he hasn’t spent most of the last day looking at videos of Yoongi online, listening to whatever scraps of his music Namjoon can find, and trying to pretend that Namjoon has any place in Yoongi’s secret life.

#

They go on like that for a while, Namjoon trying not to think about how he’s lying to Yoongi, even as he’s secretly becoming an expert in all things Suga from The Original Boys. Namjoon even finds a fan post with downloads of songs that Yoongi produced before he’d come to Seoul and joined the Original Boys. They’re rough, but promising. The most important one has a verse from Yoongi. Namjoon downloads it to his phone and listens to it too many times, just like he’s listened to every Original Boys song featuring Yoongi. He can almost understand Taehyung’s Jimin wall now.

Yoongi seems to be working at all hours even though the group is well out of the flurry of promotions for their first album. Working on a second one, Namjoon supposes. He tries to imagine what that means for Yoongi. Is Yoongi getting to produce? Does he spend time, like Namjoon, scribbling lyrics in notebooks and notes apps on his phone? Does he have to learn a new dance?

Namjoon can’t ask Yoongi any of those things. Instead they talk as they always have, about music in general (and not the specifics of their own dreams or compositions), about Namjoon’s classes, and stories about Yoongi’s fellow dancers (bandmates) divorced from the specifics.

Sometimes they send each other pictures. Sometimes they flirt. Always plausibly deniable, nothing too serious given that they’re supposed to be an ocean apart.

At least until one night, so late that it’s early. Taehyung is out, one of those times where he disappears without a clear explanation and comes back with hickies. Namjoon is just glad that Taehyung isn’t saving himself for the fantasy of Jimin and never presses him about it. But Taehyung’s absence means that Namjoon is all alone with his notes and textbooks, trying to make himself care about the test he has the next day. By the time Yoongi messages him, Namjoon has mostly given up. Whatever happens will happen.

Yoongi’s messages seem tired, loose in a way that makes Namjoon ask if he’s been drinking, but Yoongi says not. Just tired enough to be hazy with it.

Yoongi sends Namjoon a picture of himself, and Namjoon can see the circles under Yoongi’s eyes even as he pouts cutely at the camera, lovely as ever.

Namjoon sends a picture back. Maybe it’s a little...more than they usually send each other, but it isn’t Namjoon’s fault that he already has his shirt off for bed, or that he’s in bed at this hour. Even if Yoongi is pretending to be in another time zone, he knows how late it is.

Yoongi’s response is delayed for a second, and then it comes through, one message after the next, all of them the kind of things they don’t usually say to one another.

You look so fucking good.

Fuck, I miss you.

I wish I could see you.

Namjoon stares at his phone for a long moment, his heart pounding. Then, without letting himself debate it, he messages back. You can see me any time you want if we just stop pretending you aren’t in Korea.

Namjoon regrets it almost immediately and more when Yoongi doesn’t respond.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe those messages will be the last thing Yoongi ever says to Namjoon. They’re pretty good messages, but no message from Yoongi could ever be good enough to make up for being the last.

What is Yoongi thinking? He probably hates Namjoon for lying to him. Or maybe he hates Namjoon for ruining his own lie.

What if some lawyer shows up with an NDA? Namjoon will sign it of course, but it will sting. It will sting not to be trusted, and more than that to be seen as an impediment to Yoongi’s career when Namjoon wants so much for Yoongi to succeed in whatever way Yoongi hopes.

But then Namjoon’s phone is ringing. Yoongi. They never talk on the phone, but the screen clearly says that it’s Yoongi.

Namjoon picks up, grateful now that Taehyung is out, and that Namjoon doesn’t have to have this conversation in a whisper, or standing outside the dorm in his pajamas.

There’s a persistent sound from Yoongi’s side, a rush of water that makes it difficult to hear Yoongi’s low voice when he says, “Namjoon-ah?”

It occurs to Namjoon that while Namjoon might have the room to himself, it hadn’t been a lie when Yoongi said he shared a room with four others. The rush of water is probably the shower or maybe the sink, blocking out overhearing ears. Namjoon can almost see it - Yoongi hiding in the bathroom because Namjoon couldn’t just play along.

Namjoon feels terrible. “Hyung, I’m sorry. I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to find out, but my roommate is a huge fan of your group. He showed me a video and- Well.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says. “When?”

“Um, a few weeks ago? I’m sorry. I should have told you right away, but it seemed like you didn’t want me to know and I didn’t- I’m sorry.”

“We’re not supposed to- I’m not supposed to-”

“I understand, hyung. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

There’s a pause then. The sound of the running water.

Yoongi sounds a little firmer when he speaks again. “I know that, Namjoon-ah. Of course you wouldn’t.”

“I really won’t.”

There’s another pause, more water and Yoongi’s shaky breath, so Namjoon says, “You’re really talented, hyung.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “Ah, I told you, I’m not a good dancer.”

Namjoon laughs. “Not that. Although I think you’re pretty good. Your rap. Your music.”

“Namjoon-ah.” Yoongi sounds uncertain.

Namjoon isn’t sure how to comfort him. “I saw you have some producing credits, is that what you want in the long run? To produce?”

Yoongi sounds a little steadier talking about his plans. “Yeah I- This is just- I needed to get my foot in the door and not starve to death in the meantime.”

“That’s smart. I wish I was brave enough to follow my dreams like that.”

Yoongi’s voice is gentle and- Wow. Namjoon has missed him. Missed hearing him outside of the staged conversations captured online. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you’re secure. I wouldn’t be learning dance routines and dying my hair weird colors if I didn't have to think about that too.”

“Yeah.”

There’s another long pause, just the two of them breathing together for a moment, neither moving to end the call.

“Hyung?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really want to see me? You can, you know.”

“You haven’t found someone else?”

The uncertainty is back in Yoongi’s voice, tugging at Namjoon’s heart and pulling a perfectly honest response from him. “I miss you, hyung. I- I just miss you.”

Yoongi breathes out, slow and careful. “I’m still in a dorm with four other guys and a manger.”

“Can you get away?”

“Maybe. Not now, but maybe...Maybe next week.”

“I’ll ask my roommate to be gone.”

“Are you sure, Namjoon-ah?”

“Hyung, I’m so sure.”

“Okay, I’ll- I’ll figure it out.”

#

Taehyung, romantic that he is, is thrilled to hear that Namjoon’s dancer is back in Korea and happily makes plans to spend his evening elsewhere. “Suga is going to be jealous,” he teases. Namjoon makes a noise that might pass as a casual laugh if the hearer was an alien who had only read about laughter. Taehyung gives Namjoon a strange look, but lets it go.

It’s a Tuesday evening when Namjoon picks Yoongi up from the bus stop. It’s both familiar and strange - the Californian autumn replaced by spring in Seoul, but it’s still Yoongi, slouching off a bus to where Namjoon waits. Still Namjoon, ready to escort Yoongi back to his dorm and his cheap mattress. Still Namjoon, wanting; and still Yoongi, astounding Namjoon by wanting back.

Yoongi gets off the bus swathed in baggy, nondescript clothes, a baseball hat, and a mask.

“Sorry,” he says, gesturing to it all. “It’s not like I really think anyone would- but I can’t risk it.”

Namjoon shrugs peaceably, happy to see even the small sliver of Yoongi that shows between the brim of the hat and the mask. Hidden or not, he’s suddenly, tangibly there and Namjoon can’t help smiling at him. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi pauses and then his eyes lift, showing his own smile even if his mouth is hidden. “Right. Sorry. Hi, Namjoon-ah.”

“Hi,” Namjoon says again stupidly.

They smile at each for another long moment, until Namjoon realizes that he should lead Yoongi back to his room.

He doesn’t make a show of giving Yoongi a tour this time, not wanting to highlight the fact that Yoongi isn’t just another student, even though no one is paying them any attention.

When the door shuts behind them, Yoongi takes off the mask and hat before anything else. He smiles at Namjoon again, the sweet curve of it visible this time. His hair has faded from how it was in the videos, the bright red dimming to a brassy blond, overlong with dark roots. It doesn’t matter. He’s as handsome as Namjoon remembered.

Namjoon wants to kiss him, but it seems presumptuous somehow, so instead he gestures around them. “Welcome to another dorm room.”

Yoongi glances around and then freezes, eyes caught on the Park Jimin wall shrine. “What is that?”

Namjoon has finally grown numb to it, but looking at it from Yoongi’s perspective, he sees again how overwhelming it is. “Oh. Yeah. I told you, my roommate is obsessed.”

Yoongi can’t seem to look away. “You didn’t say it was Jimin.” He stares for another long beat. “Or tell me about this.”

Namjoon doesn’t want to criticize Taehyung who is a wonderful roommate and friend aside from his choice in wall decor. “He’s a great guy. Just a little...devoted.”

Yoongi shoots Namjoon a look, but his expression of horror softens a bit. “Well. I hope he can deal with disappointment, because unfortunately he doesn’t have a shot in hell with Jimin.”

Namjoon nods, surely it must have occurred to Taehyung that Jimin could be straight. “He’s not like- He’s not a stalker or whatever, he just…” Well, it’s hard to summarize Taehyung’s reverence for Jimin, but Namjoon knows without question that Taehyung is a safe person to have as a fan.

Yoongi shrugs and deliberately turns so his back is to the multitude of Jimins. “Whatever. I’m not here to talk about your roommate.”

He steps into Namjoon’s space. “You look good.”

Namjoon reaches out and touches Yoongi’s giant sweatshirt. “You too.”

Yoongi moves closer, pushes himself up a bit on his toes to whisper against Namjoon’s mouth, “Kiss me.”

Namjoon does, grabbing fistfuls of Yoongi’s shirt.

Yoongi leans into it, his mouth opening for Namjoon. He pushes closer until he stumbles into Namjoon, and Namjoon has to grab his waist through all the layers to keep them on their feet. Even then, Yoongi doesn’t let himself be distracted from kissing Namjoon.

His urgency is intoxicating, but Namjoon has to pull away, just long enough to look behind himself, aiming them for the bed. He backs into it, sitting and pulling Yoongi down on him.

Yoongi clambers into his lap and then starts pulling at Namjoon’s shirt until Namjoon takes it off. Yoongi makes a little noise and runs his hands over Namjoon’s shoulders and chest. “Ugh, you got bigger.”

Namjoon has kept working out. He still likes the simple burn of it. The few hours a week when he doesn’t have to think about the future, or about school, or about anything other than getting his form just right.

Namjoon likes Yoongi’s appreciation too, even though it makes him blush.

He distracts them both by slipping his hands under the edge of Yoongi’s shirts, and when Yoongi lifts his arms, pulling them off in a heavy bundle of fabric.

Yoongi is as lovely as ever, unchanged from the last time Namjoon had seen him. Namjoon runs his hands down Yoongi’s back and kisses Yoongi’s neck.

Yoongi leans back, baring the column of his throat for Namjoon’s mouth, but he says, voice rumbling under Namjoon’s lips, “No marks. No marks, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon nods, but doesn’t stop touching Yoongi’s warm, bare skin. His hands travel down the perfect line of Yoongi’s back to the edge of Yoongi’s pants, pushing under the elastic band to press into the curve of Yoongi’s ass.

Yoongi shifts closer, grinding against Namjoon. “You need to fuck me.”

Namjoon’s arms tighten around Yoongi. Namjoon does need that.

He pulls Yoongi up and over, lifting him off of Namjoon’s lap and onto the bed, letting him fall back there.

Yoongi makes a satisfied sound and lets himself be moved, cooperatively lifting his hips to let Namjoon pull off his pants and socks. He watches Namjoon hungrily as he slips out of his own clothes and then digs the condoms and lube out of his desk drawers.

Namjoon climbs back into the bed, kneeling over Yoongi, pretty on Namjoon’s pillows. Namjoon cages Yoongi in with his body and leans down to kiss him again.

Namjoon gets lost in that, in Yoongi’s mouth, and the way he moves restlessly under Namjoon, until Yoongi orders him, impatient, “Fuck me, Namjoon-ah.”

So Namjoon reluctantly leave Yoongi’s mouth behind and turns his attention to the bottle of lube, to working Yoongi open for his cock.

In some ways, this is just like their first time all over again - the dorm bed, their eagerness, the condoms hidden behind the highlighters, Namjoon’s textbooks ignored on the desk, but in other ways it’s nothing like it at all. Now, Namjoon doesn’t need Yoongi’s patient direction. Namjoon already knows that Yoongi likes it a little rushed, likes it when the stretch is not quite enough so that he can feel the ache when Namjoon enters him. Likes, maybe, the idea of Namjoon being so hungry for him that Namjoon can’t be bothered to do it properly.

However, not kissing Yoongi turns out to be a tactical mistake. Yoongi’s attention wanders, and then his hand is on Namjoon’s shoulder pushing him away. “Wait, wait.”

Namjoon looks up, alarmed. Maybe it was arrogant to assume that nothing had changed. Namjoon should have checked in.

But Yoongi isn’t even looking at Namjoon, and when Namjoon turns to follow his gaze, Namjoon sees the Jimins all watching them. “It’s weird. It’s like he’s here. Like twenty five of him are here,” Yoongi complains.

Namjoon tries not to laugh. He does understand. The first few days he hadn’t even been able to make himself jerk off in here. Even when he was alone in the room, it never really felt like alone. Of course Namjoon had the shower as an option, so it didn’t really became a pressing issue. But that won’t work for them. Putting aside the danger of fucking on wet tile, the showers are shared, and while Namjoon was willing to risk getting caught in a late night masturbation session, Yoongi and his mask and his baseball hat are not going to chance getting spotted hooking up with Namjoon.

Namjoon considers. “Get up for a second.”

Yoongi stands, awkwardly covering himself, a hand over his crotch and the other arm over his nipples, like the Jimins really can see. “He’s looking,” Yoongi whines when Namjoon finally can’t help laughing.

“Okay, okay.” Namjoon strips the blanket back, glad he’d already switched to the light summer bedding. Namjoon hates being hot when he’s sleeping and the dorm has been too warm for weeks. Another bedding miracle. “Come here.”

Yoongi looks at him warily but follows Namjoon’s directions, laying back on the bed, his eyes still drifting to the Jimins. Namjoon settles on top of him again, this time letting the blanket fall over them both like a veil, tugging until it covers them, blocking Yoongi’s view of their paper audience.

It’s shadowed in there, the dark navy of Namjoon’s blanket not letting that much light through, but just enough to see the way Yoongi smiles at him. “This is the solution?”

“Simple problems call for simple solutions.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says dubiously.

For all his doubt, Yoongi’s attention is back on Namjoon. Namjoon leans in to kiss him, and by the time he pulls away, Yoongi seems to have forgotten his distraction. “Fuck me, Joon-ah.”

Namjoon kisses him one more time and then turns back to his task. Luckily, he’d remembered to tuck the lube and condoms inside the blanket tent with them.

Fucking Yoongi is just like Namjoon remembered it being - perfect.

He’s hot and tight around Namjoon, his little sounds as agonizingly erotic as ever, and he’s hungry for it, like always.

The only problem comes when they really start to move together. Yoongi begins to slide up the mattress, or maybe they both do, since Yoongi’s legs are tight around Namjoon’s waist. In any case, the blanket starts to slip off, letting in a burst of white light and outside air.

It had been warm in the room before, but now the air coming in from outside the blanket feels positively cold. Yoongi whines and then reaches up, fumbling for the edge. He manages to grab it, and holds it down over his head, sealing them back in the darkness.

He looks so good there in the dim, blue shadow, his head thrown back as Namjoon fucks him, and one arm pinned above his head, fingers clutching the blanket. Namjoon wants to kiss the expanse of his throat again, but he’s too focused on fucking Yoongi just right, on fucking him just the way that Yoongi taught Namjoon all those months and oceans ago.

Yoongi is jerking himself off now, free hand moving quick and needy while his heels dig into Namjoon’s back. “Joon-ah, Joon-ah,” he slurs.

And then he’s coming, even tighter around Namjoon, gasping with it.

Namjoon fucks him through it, and then pulls out when a wordless complaint from Yoongi lets Namjoon know that the pleasure of it has receded. Namjoon fumbles his way out of the condom, managing to tie it off, and reaching under the blanket to drop it on the floor. Namjoon can’t manage any more than that, too focused on how much he need to come. He starts to jerk himself off, braced over Yoongi but Yoongi pulls him in close again, eyes still closed. “Come here, Joon-ah.”

So Namjoon does, pushing his face into the warmth of Yoongi’s neck. It’s so hot and humid under the blanket now, the air thick with their breath, and their sweat, and the smell of come. Between that, and his mouth open against Yoongi’s throat, trickles of Yoongi’s sweat landing on his tongue, Namjoon can barely breathe. He’s so fucking close.

He ruts against Yoongi’s hip, just like the first time, except now Namjoon knows how to get Yoongi off first. But just like then, Yoongi holds Namjoon close and lets him take what he needs.

Namjoon can’t focus on anything but his rising pleasure, his cock sliding in the mix of sweat and come between them, but Yoongi must decide it’s too stifling under the bedding and Namjoon, because suddenly he tugs the blanket away.

The sudden rush of oxygen, cold and welcome, pushes Namjoon over the edge and he comes in a dizzying, bright rush, shaking against Yoongi, spit mixing with the sweat pooling in the hollow of Yoongi’s throat and come spurting into the mess smeared between them.

Even after that, even after they clean up, and after the glow of the orgasm fades, Namjoon can’t stop touching Yoongi, kissing him, running his hand along Yoongi’s skin, reassuring himself that Yoongi is really there.

And Yoongi seems just as eager, so wrapped up in Namjoon that he almost misses his bus. It’s only when the sun starts to sink and a shadow begins to creep down the wall, dimming the power of the Jimins that Yoongi looks at his phone. He curses and then he’s frantically dressing.

Namjoon hastily follows suit, not so much seeing Yoongi off at the bus stop as chasing him there only to wave Yoongi away when he turns to Namjoon with an apologetic expression, still half a block away as the bus pulls up.

Yoongi sprints the rest of the way alone, while Namjoon gives up, stopping where he is, and trying to catch his breath. Yoongi is on the bus and gone before Namjoon manages it.

Namjoon feels awkward and sweaty when he turns to go back to his dorm, shirt sticking to his back uncomfortably, and somehow sure that everyone looking at him knows exactly why he’s so sweaty. But it doesn’t matter, because he hasn’t even taken ten steps when he gets a message from Yoongi, I want to see you again.

Then Namjoon is smiling, not caring who sees, or what conclusions they draw, Yes. I want that too.

#

It’s even more difficult to find time to see each other than it had been in Los Angeles. Mostly it’s Yoongi’s schedule. There’s a lot more to being in an idol band than Namjoon realized, even after his deep dive into The Original Boys. And on top of the usual, there’s Yoongi’s producing work, which seems to expand to fill every free moment.

When Yoongi does get free time, un-monitored by managers or bandmates, it’s usually in strange awkward hours, not enough for him to get to Namjoon’s dorm and back. Namjoon would travel to Yoongi, perfectly willing to skip a marketing class or two, but unless they rent a hotel room, the only place they have to meet is Namjoon’s dorm. Yoongi’s dorm is impossible. It’s difficult enough to ensure that Taehyung will be out, never mind four other guys and whatever manager is on shift.

In the month since their reunion, they’ve only managed to meet up twice more, not even enough for Yoongi to get accustomed to the watchful gaze of the ever multiplying Jimins. And, during the second meeting, Taehyung had come back early - or more honestly, Yoongi had decided the manager wouldn’t mind if he was a little bit late, citing Jimin’s perpetual tardiness as precedent.

Yoongi had already been mostly under the covers, so when the door opened, Namjoon had panicked and pulled the blanket over his head completely.

Taehyung’s expression had turned confused when Yoongi didn’t emerge to accept his greetings and apologies. “Is this like a roleplay thing? Am I the disapproving husband?”

“What?” Namjoon splutters. “No!”

Taehyung nods wisely. “It’s best to negotiate those things in advance, but let me know.”

There’s an awkward pause when Taehyung doesn’t leave and Yoongi still doesn’t emerge. Yoongi pokes Namjoon viciously in the ribs.

“Ow! I uh, I mean. Uh, he’s just shy. And uh, you know we didn’t, um, expect to see anyone else today…” Namjoon trails off meaningfully.

Taehyung’s expression falls. “Oh. Right. Well, I uh, I guess I’ll go get dinner. Um, again.”

Yoongi must feel bad because he moves like he’s about to emerge, but Namjoon just knows that Taehyung will recognize him and that it will be a whole thing. Namjoon doesn’t want a whole thing. He just wants to keep seeing Yoongi. He pins the blanket down over Yoongi. “He’s just about to go. Uh, why don’t I meet you in the cafeteria in like...twenty minutes.”

Taehyung brightens and, mercifully, leaves.

Yoongi looks like an angry cat when he emerges. “A little warning the next time you want me to suffocate in the name of being your dirty little secret.”

Namjoon tilts his head puzzled. “I mean, if you want to meet him, we can still make that happen, but uh, I thought-” He gestures to the wall of Jimin and Yoongi turns to look at it over his shoulder, annoyed expression turning horrified as all the Jimins smolder back at him.

“Right.” Yoongi hops out of bed and starts pulling on his clothes. “Okay, maybe not.”

Even with that, and even with how often plans fall through or are impossible to make at all, it’s better than before.

Maybe just because they’re being more honest with each other. Or maybe just knowing that they’ll get to see each other at some point. Or maybe it’s just the sex, however sporadic it is.

Whatever it is, it’s good. They message whenever they can, and sometimes, when Taehyung is out and Yoongi is alone at the studio or hidden in the bathroom, they talk on the phone. Sometimes it’s sexy, and sometimes it’s just a tired discussion of their day. Namjoon likes both.

#

Of course, sneaking around when the only space they have is half a tiny dorm room can’t work forever. In fact, it only lasts for a few weeks more before Namjoon opens the door one afternoon (an afternoon that Yoongi is supposed have completely free) to find Taehyung still there. Namjoon freezes, and Yoongi, behind him, freezes too. Namjoon knows this because Yoongi is already pressed up against Namjoon, his arm wrapped around Namjoon’s waist, and his hand burrowed under Namjoon’s shirt, warm against Namjoon’s stomach.

Taehyung is in bed. Taehyung is- Well, he’s not alone. And he might be naked.

There’s a duvet obscuring the details, but knowing what Namjoon does of Taehyung’s casual relationship with nudity, and the fact that he’s in bed with another guy who also appears to be undressed, Namjoon is going to guess naked.

The guy in bed with Taehyung seems as relaxed as Taehyung about the intrusion, despite the high probability of nudity. He waves casually at Namjoon who, not knowing what else to do, waves back.

The guy’s smile widens. There’s something about him that makes Namjoon’s brain hurt, particularly when he’s smiling like that, but Namjoon can’t figure it out right now.

Yoongi takes his hand out from under Namjoon’s shirt. In the current situation this is both a disappointment and a relief.

“Um,” Namjoon says. “I thought- I thought you wanted the room on Friday?”

Taehyung looks puzzled. “It is Friday, hyung.”

“No, Friday is the 7th. That’s tomorrow.”

Yoongi sighs behind him. “Joon-ah, Friday is the 6th. Which is today.”

Oops.

Taehyung perks up at hearing Yoongi speak. “Oh, is this your guy?” He tilts his head, trying to get a glimpse of Yoongi who is still tucked behind Namjoon and hidden in his mask and cap.

Before Namjoon can figure out how to respond to that, the possibly naked, definitely brain-hurting man in Taehyung’s bed frowns and says, “Hyung? Did you follow me?”

Yoongi leans around Namjoon, voice pitching high in surprise. “Jimin-ah?”

The naked man crosses his naked arms over his naked chest. Namjoon’s brain ache suddenly resolves itself as he finally places the man’s almost absurdly familiar features. His eyes dart between Park Jimin in the (naked) flesh and the chorus of paper Park Jimin’s on the wall. Oh. That seems like it should have been obvious in retrospect.

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “You followed me here and now you’re surprised to see me?”

It’s the kind of misapprehension that would have Namjoon stumbling over himself to correct it, but Yoongi only says, “Maybe you followed me.”

“I was here first!”

“You’re very determined.”

Taehyung seems delighted. “Wow, very, very determined since he knew me first.”

“The long con,” Yoongi agrees laconically. Then he says, “And I suppose you must be Jimin’s Taehyung.”

Taehyung beams. “That’s me! And you’re Suga. But are you really Namjoon’s L.A. friend too?”

Jimin makes a little noise of intrigue. “Wait. This is the guy from Los Angeles?” He looks Namjoon up and down with a knowing expression that makes Namjoon feel very nervous. “Taehyung-ah, you didn’t tell me that your roommate was so handsome.”

Taehyung pouts, and Namjoon only gets more nervous, sweat starting to make his shirt stick a little in all the places where Yoongi is still pressed against him. Namjoon has no interest in getting between Taehyung and The Park Jimin. But Taehyung unexpectedly says, “I did tell you!”

Jimin nods, conceding the point. “Yeah, you did. I just didn’t know he was also the guy from Los Angeles.” He gives Namjoon another lingering look.

Yoongi interrupts. “Okay! Enough of that. Namjoon and I will just head out.” He tugs at Namjoon’s arm and Namjoon stumbles back toward him, not sure where they are going, but willing to follow. Especially if it means escaping Park Jimin’s knowing looks. And the nudity.

“Hyung!” Jimin says. “Don’t go. Don’t you want to meet my Taehyungie?”

It quickly becomes clear to Namjoon, as Yoongi folds completely, and easily lets Jimin dispatch Taehyung and Namjoon to bring back food, that Yoongi is totally unable to say no to Jimin. Which is fine, it’s not like Yoongi and Namjoon had somewhere else to go with the room occupied. Also, Namjoon is increasingly curious about how Taehyung managed to manifest Jimin off his bedroom wall and into his bed.

It turns out to be a simpler story than Namjoon thought. “We met in middle school,” Jimin says, looking lovingly at Taehyung who is chewing a giant piece of kimbap with his mouth open.

“Oh,” Namjoon says.

Taehyung swallows and then frowns at Namjoon. “What do you mean ‘oh?’ You knew that. I told you, he’s my soulmate.”

“Well, I mean-” Namjoon stutters, looking to Yoongi for help.

Yoongi shrugs, a gesture completely devoid of helpfulness.

“You never said- I mean, I kind of thought you were just. You know.” Namjoon gestures at the wall of Jimins. “Uh. A really big fan.”

Jimin howls with laughter and Namjoon feels bad, but Taehyung looks serenely unbothered. “I am a huge fan. But also we’ve been dating since we were fifteen.”

It’s sort of nice, with the confusion cleared up and the clothing back on, to spend time with Yoongi in the presence of other people. Jimin and Yoongi needle each other constantly, but they also seem to care deeply for each other, Yoongi pushing the best bits of food toward Jimin and Jimin making sure that Yoongi can stretch out his legs after some soreness in practice the day before. Namjoon likes knowing that Yoongi has someone like that. Especially if it’s still Namjoon that Yoongi keeps finding reasons to touch.

Eventually, Jimin and Taehyung volunteer to go on a walk before Jimin and Yoongi have to meet at the bus stop to head back. It’s a little awkward, knowing that Taehyung and Jimin are giving them time alone explicitly so they can have sex (neither of them are very subtle about it - Jimin giving Namjoon another one of those long, lingering looks, and Taehyung saying, “Have good sex!” as they leave).

For a moment, Namjoon thinks that Yoongi will be too embarrassed, but then Yoongi gets up on his toes to kiss Namjoon, slides his hand under Namjoon’s shirt, and mumbles against Namjoon’s mouth, “I thought they might never leave.”

When Namjoon drops Yoongi off at the bus stop, Taehyung gives both of them a high five.

#

The rest of the semester passes quickly. The success of The Original Boys’ first album is enough that Yoongi and Jimin are getting ready to participate in their first international tour. International, in this case, meaning mostly around Asia, but there are a few dates overseas as well.

Namjoon is proud of Yoongi, and of Jimin, who Namjoon is getting to know in passing moments, but, next to their success, it’s a little awkward to be the guy just trying to make it through his marketing class without falling asleep. Taehyung, is working on school projects too, but Taehyung clearly loves what he’s doing. Even if it’s for class, Taehyung is making art while Namjoon is researching the best ways to trick people into buying crap they don’t need.

Eventually, after a particularly trying day, when Namjoon spends all of his lectures swallowing down a potent mix of ethical concerns and boredom, he brings it up with Seokjin. Seokjin is supposed to be his mentor, right? And anyway, Seokjin is graduating, so if he’s horrified that Namjoon doesn’t love business properly, hopefully he won’t report it to their professors.

Seokjin, who has always seemed more interested in telling jokes than dispensing wisdom, takes Namjoon’s concerns surprisingly seriously. He listens thoughtfully and then gives Namjoon his perspective, which basically boils down to: don’t do something you hate, you only get one life. Then he buys Namjoon dinner and tells him terrible jokes until Namjoon almost can’t believe that this is the same thoughtful man from an hour ago.

Seokjin’s advice is both exactly what Namjoon wants to hear and exactly what he doesn’t want to hear, because what does Namjoon do with it?

Namjoon makes it through his finals, barely. At some point in the past, he’d thought about taking summer courses, but now he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to stomach them. He goes home instead.

Namjoon spends the first few weeks of the break agonizing over his future. What would his parents say if he told them that he wasn’t strong enough do what they want him to do? Wasn’t steady enough to do the safe, secure thing that will let him take care of them when they got old? It’s selfish, isn’t it? Most people don’t like their job, right? Jobs are a means to an end, they don’t have to be a passion.

Even Yoongi, who’s chased his dreams harder than anyone Namjoon knows, isn’t doing exactly what he wants. Even Yoongi has made serious compromises to keep himself fed.

Namjoon wants to talk to Yoongi about all of it, but Yoongi is busy with the tour. First with hours of practice and costume fittings and whatever else goes into it, and then with the tour itself - endless travel, more practice, and the concerts of course. In theory, Yoongi has downtime, but in reality, they’re already working on the next album, songs being written and produced on laptops in hotel rooms. And then there’s the time difference, no longer fiction. When Yoongi is free, often Namjoon is asleep. Namjoon likes waking in the morning to a string of messages from Yoongi, but he misses the intimacy and immediacy of being able to chat back and forth.

Namjoon misses texting with Yoongi, and he misses Yoongi’s voice on their rare phone calls. He misses touching Yoongi and Yoongi touching him. The warmth of Yoongi beside him, and the solid weight of Yoongi in his arms. The smell of Yoongi’s cologne, and his shampoo, and his skin.

Namjoon misses Yoongi so much.

Too much.

It’s too much, right?

Because… Because, they never really talked about it. Never talked about if they were anything like that to each other. Anything more than the casual hookup they’d started out as.

It’s just- Spending that time with Taehyung and Jimin. It was easy to feel in those moments like- Like they were two couples.

Obviously, Namjoon and Yoongi weren’t exactly like Taehyung and Jimin. They hadn’t been dating for almost five years. They weren’t high school sweethearts or soulmates.

It wasn’t like that.

But it had still somehow felt like… Like Namjoon and Yoongi could be like Taehyung and Jimin. Someday.

But Namjoon and Yoongi had never talked about it. They’d never said they were dating, much less seriously dating. They’d never agreed on anything that could justify how much Namjoon misses Yoongi.

Maybe if they’d talked. Maybe if they were dating. Then Namjoon could just tell Yoongi. Namjoon could send Yoongi a message that just said how much Namjoon misses him. Maybe Yoongi would even say it back and then it would hurt a little less.

But they aren’t dating and Namjoon can’t do that.

Instead, the missing seems to build up in his chest, a constant hollow ache that sits next to his persistent anxiety about school and his unhappiness about the future.

Namjoon is so absorbed in his own thoughts about that future and about Yoongi that it doesn’t occur to him that he’s been obviously moping. But one afternoon, when his father is still at work and his sister is out with her friends, his mother asks him, “Is everything okay with you lately?”

She’s not looking at Namjoon, focused on slicing an onion. Namjoon is supposed to be helping her cook, but he’s mostly been observing. They have a silent understanding that keeping his distance is the most helpful thing Namjoon can do when knives are involved.

He blinks, not comprehending.

She turns away from the diced onion. “I only ask, because you- You seem a little distracted. You’re always on your phone lately.”

“Oh,” Namjoon says.

She tries to smile. “Maybe- Did you meet someone?”

Namjoon can feel his face getting warm. “No, uh. Just friends. Um, you remember that hyung I met in Los Angeles? He’s living in Seoul now. Or well, kind of. He’s- He’s in a band. And they’re actually on tour right now. Which is pretty cool.”

Her expression does something complicated, but she turns to the sink before he can figure it out. “That’s actually what I want to talk to you about.”

Namjoon tenses. He didn’t realize there was a Talk brewing. And- Does she realize that he’s seriously thinking about pursuing music? And she wants to Talk about it? Shit.

She rinses and dries her hands, then sits across from him at the table. “I don’t- I never want to pressure you to tell me anything that you don’t want to tell me, but you’ve seemed upset lately and I’m worried… Well, I’m worried that you’re worried about my reaction. I don’t want you to have to wonder if there’s anything you can do that will make me love you less.”

Namjoon gapes at her, not sure how she’s gotten exactly to the heart of it, how she knows how much he’s been agonizing over not following her wishes for his future.

“So, if this friend from America is just a friend, okay. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, but if he’s more than that. If you- I just want you to know that you don’t need to be concerned about how your father and I will take it.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Namjoon’s face has moved way past warm. He can’t look at her. “I- That’s not it.”

“I’m sorry then, I shouldn’t have-”

“No!” Namjoon says, too sudden. “No, I mean-” He takes a deep breath. “You’re right. I am- I am dating him.” (There’s no way Namjoon is going to explain to his mother about friends with benefits. No way at all.) “And uh, it’s a relief to hear that you and dad are okay with it.”

She reaches across the table and takes his hand. “Of course, Namjoon-ah. We love you.”

“I love you too, but uh. Uh the thing that I’ve really been thinking about this summer is-” He makes himself look at her. Both of them are red in the cheeks and a little teary eyed. Everyone always says how much he resembles her. “It’s- I don’t think I can- I- I hate business school.”

She takes a sharp breath.

He makes himself say it all. “I hate the idea of doing finance or sales for my whole life. I’ll be miserable, I know I will. I want to- I really want to switch to music.”

It’s dumb. Namjoon should be satisfied enough that his parents are okay with him dating a man. That’s already more than most people get. Namjoon shouldn’t be pushing it, but- But he can’t do it. He can’t.

“Oh Namjoon-ah, is it that bad?”

He nods, too choked up to say anything more.

She squeezes his hand. “I- We just want you be safe. To have a secure future.” She sighs. “But we don’t want you to be unhappy either. Let’s just- We’ll talk about it with your father when he gets home.”

That’s as good as a yes. Between the two of them, Namjoon’s father worries far less about issues of practicality.

Sure enough, after dinner they talk it out and it’s agreed that as long as Namjoon keeps his grades up, he can switch majors. Then his father says that he wants to meet Yoongi when Yoongi gets back from touring, but Namjoon is too excited about the rest of it to worry about that right now. He hugs them both and they pat his back, all of them a little awkward with the physical affection, but all wanting the reassurance anyway.

In bed, Namjoon texts Yoongi, a long excited message and then, too full of energy to fall asleep, stays up flipping through the university course listings until Yoongi responds. They message back and forth for an hour about the music courses Namjoon should take, Yoongi thrilled for Namjoon and Namjoon thrilled to be talking to Yoongi at all. For the first time in months the future seems exciting.

#

When the new semester starts, almost everything seems brighter to Namjoon than it had before. Namjoon is taking classes that he’s actually interested in, he has Taehyung, a real friend, his parents support him in all kinds of ways that he hadn’t known they would. The only downside is Yoongi’s continued absence - the tour stretching a month into the semester.

Within the first week back, Taehyung says, “You really miss Yoongi-hyung, don’t you?”

Namjoon looks up from his phone where he’d been sifting through the concert pictures that fans had taken the night before and saving the best ones to his ever-growing folder of Yoongi photos. He expects to find a teasing smile on Taehyung’s face, but Taehyung is completely serious. Somehow that makes it worse. “Um,” Namjoon says.

“I understand. I miss Jimin too.”

“Well,” Namjoon tries. “It’s not quite the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?” Taehyung asks.

Namjoon can’t respond to that, so he doesn’t.

Maybe Namjoon should have seen it coming, but he’s still...surprised when Taehyung shows up two days later with a picture of Yoongi. It’s not quite a poster, but it is a very large photo. Shamefully, Namjoon recognizes it from a fansite. It’s one he’s saved to his phone. It’s a good photo.

“Here,” Taehyung says, already busily sticking it to the wall with the sort of expertise that comes of having a complex art installation of his boyfriend’s face. “For when you miss him.”

He’s so sincere about it, and well, Namjoon does look at photos when he misses Yoongi sometimes. This photo is one of them. “Thanks,” Namjoon says with what he hopes is an appropriate level of enthusiasm.

Namjoon is a little self conscious about the photo at first, but honestly he’s not bringing people back to the room and it is sort of nice to look up and see Yoongi there. Maybe he’s desensitized after living with the wall of Jimins for so long.

After a while, it sort of becomes, well, part of the background, and Namjoon doesn’t even remember that it’s hovering there.

A couple of weeks later, Yoongi has video called him, crowing about having a room to himself for once. The Original Boys have just wrapped the last stop before they come back to Korea, and the time zones aren’t too bad, although Namjoon is tired after a long week of classes and Yoongi is high on post-concert adrenaline.

Yoongi has been listing all the foods he’ll eat when he’s back in Korea, and has started to drift into all the things he’ll do to Namjoon the next time they see each other, when he suddenly stops. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Behind you?”

Namjoon turns, thinking for a moment that Yoongi is playing a prank on him. But.

There it is.

The photo.

A wave of mortification washes over Namjoon. “Oh.”

“Is that a poster of me?” Yoongi looks torn between laughter, horror, and something softer.

“Uh. Taehyung.” Namjoon says, as if that’s a full explanation. But isn’t it?

Maybe not, because Yoongi repeats, “Taehyung?”

“He, uh. Well, I was missing you and he thought it would help.”

The softer something, an expression that Namjoon wants to see as fondness and maybe as hope, takes over. “You miss me?”

“Hyung,” is all Namjoon manages, quiet and far too full of the feelings that Namjoon’s not sure he’s allowed to have.

“Fuck, Namjoon-ah. I miss you too. I miss you lots.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I-” Yoongi looks away from the camera uncertainly. “I was thinking maybe when I get back we could talk?”

Namjoon swallows. “Like in an ominous ‘we should talk’ kind of way? Or like…”

“Like, I really like you, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon’s heart is pounding. “But?”

“No, but. Or I mean, just- I don’t know if you want this.” There’s a flutter on the screen, presumably Yoongi gesturing to the phone, to the distance, to the restrictions caused by his job.

“I want you, hyung.”

Yoongi looks pleased and a little shy. “Okay. Okay, so...we’ll talk about that.”

“Okay.”

“Um, you know how the last concert is in Seoul?”

“Yeah,” says Namjoon, who has memorized every stop on the concert list.

“Well, they’re giving each of us a couple of tickets to invite someone.”

“Oh.”

“Would you like- Would you like to come? And then afterwards we’ll be able to talk.”

Oh. “Of course I would.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s good.” Yoongi smiles and Namjoon wishes they were in the same place so that Namjoon could kiss him.

#

The concert is amazing. Namjoon had worried he might feel awkward there alone, but then Yoongi had given Taehyung his second ticket. Most of the tickets had gone to family, but Yoongi’s brother couldn’t get away from work and his parents are a delicate topic. So Yoongi had shared his with Taehyung, allowing Jimin to invite both of his parents without leaving Taehyung out. It worked out well for Namjoon. Jimin’s parents obviously know Taehyung very well and, simply because he’s a friend of Taehyung’s (and by extension Jimin), they’ve practically adopted Namjoon by the end of the concert.

The performance is thrilling. Yoongi, for all he claims he’s only doing this as a stepping stone, has a magnetic stage presence. Namjoon can see why a company would make Yoongi this kind of offer. Why they would want him on the stage and not just tucked away in a back office somewhere.

Aside from Yoongi, the rest of the group is good too. Well rehearsed and sharp. Jungkook, the lead singer with the doe eyes, has a soaring voice that Namjoon has spent hours listening to Yoongi praise, and deservedly so. Jimin and the other rapper, Hoseok, lead the dancing, but everyone there brings something to the formations. Namjoon can understand why The Original Boys have started to grow their fanbase so quickly.

Afterward, Namjoon trails behind Jimin’s parents and Taehyung. All of them seem to understand the layout of the concert hall much better than Namjoon. Backstage, there’s a dizzying whirl of staff and families, elated at the conclusion of a successful concert and tour. Namjoon is completely lost for a moment, separated from anyone he knows, until a manager emerges from the throng and politely offers to take Namjoon to Yoongi.

Namjoon gets the feeling that she knows exactly who he is to Yoongi, but Namjoon supposes managers have to know that kind of thing. He tries not to think about what embarrassing things she knew when they were hooking up in Los Angeles, or even earlier this year.

Yoongi is in a large room in the back, other band members and family everywhere. He looks so good, lit up with the leftover energy of the concert and smiling widely at Namjoon, apparently thrilled to see him.

Namjoon wants to kiss Yoongi so badly. Namjoon’s not sure what do except kiss him. Doesn’t know quite how to proceed, here where Namjoon can’t kiss him. He looks at Yoongi panicked.

Yoongi seems to read his mind and, still smiling, pulls Namjoon by the sleeve down a hall and around a corner until they’re at a single stall bathroom. He pushes Namjoon inside and then they’re kissing, and kissing, and kissing. Yoongi pins Namjoon up against the door, rising on his toes, Namjoon’s extra few centimetres of height no match for Yoongi’s buzzing adrenaline and Namjoon’s total willingness to bend to meet Yoongi’s sweet mouth.

“Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi manages between kisses. “Namjoon-ah, be my boyfriend.”

Namjoon’s heart flips in his chest, a thrilled somersault. “Yes.” He presses an excited, sloppy kiss to Yoongi’s cheek, into the sweat and stage makeup lingering there while Yoongi laughs, pleased.

Yoongi pulls away enough to look at Namjoon, serious now. “It’s not going to be easy. I’m still-”

“I know, hyung. I know. We’ll figure it out.” Namjoon meets Yoongi’s eyes, steady and sure.

“Okay,” Yoongi sighs, the smile growing on his face once more. “Okay.”

Namjoon has to kiss him again.

They stay there, wrapped up in each other until Jimin comes to find them. When Yoongi complains, Jimin only says, “If it wasn’t me, it was going to be manager-nim. Either that or we leave you two to get locked in until the next event!”

Namjoon laughs, and follows Jimin, pulling Yoongi with him. “It’s okay. We should talk anyway. Just so you know, my parents already want to meet you.”

Yoongi had been allowing himself to be pulled, but now he stops, eyes wide with shock. “What?”

Jimin cackles, but Namjoon squeezes Yoongi’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, they’ll love you.”

“Right,” Yoongi says uncertainly.

“Right,” Namjoon repeats firmly, smiling at Yoongi until some of his uncertainty fades, and he stumbles forward again.

They follow Jimin, who is running to Taehyung like they’ve been apart for a century instead of the five minutes it had presumably taken him to find Namjoon and Yoongi.

The crowd is still churning, but with Yoongi by his side, there’s no way for Namjoon to get lost this time.

#

Realistically, Namjoon has been done with these lyrics for at least twenty minutes, but he can’t stop flipping back and forth between two word options in the chorus. He should just stop here and find Yoongi. Yoongi will somehow know, as he always does, which choice Namjoon will make in the middle of the night when he should be sleeping.

Instead, Yoongi is the one who finds Namjoon, opening the studio door carefully, a bag of takeout dangling from his fingers. “Namjoon-ah, you’re done,” he says, even though theoretically there’s no way for him to know that.

“Am I?”

Yoongi just gives him a look. “Come on, this one doesn’t need to be poetry. Let me see it so I can figure out which track might work with it.”

It’s true. Their current assignment is for an up and coming boy group. ‘Light’ and ‘youthful but sexy,’ had been the brief. “Nothing too deep, you know? We want people to dance, not think,” one of the upper management had said, distracted already by something on his phone.

It wasn’t a particularly promising assignment in any way but one - the money. A big company, a big group like that… Well, if the song took off it would pay for Namjoon and Yoongi to spend their time making music that’s far more interesting but much less lucrative. It’s the strategy that’s made them both successful and respected over the last few years. Enough of the big money has come in recently that they didn’t strictly need to take this job, but Yoongi wanted to get their foot in this particular door, and Namjoon had some ideas, despite everything.

Namjoon looks over the page one more time while Yoongi unloads the food on a small table, safely away from the more expensive equipment. When all the food is settled, Namjoon hands the notebook to Yoongi.

Yoongi sits down and reads. “Your love of dancers is coming through, Namjoon-ah,” he says. Then he reads a little further, enough to realize that the dance lessons are a thinly veiled metaphor. “Oh,” he laughs.

Yoongi picks up the pencil and crosses out half of the branching word choices with a finality that lets Namjoon stop worrying about it.

He reads through one more time, and then looks up at Namjoon. “It’s good. It’s going to be really catchy, I can tell already.”

Namjoon smiles. “Thanks, hyung. I had some inspiration.”

“Oh?” Yoongi says, absent minded like he’s mentally running through every half finished beat on his computer as he digs into the food.

“Sure, I just thought about you.”

Yoongi freezes, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Me?”

“Sure. Didn’t you teach me all my...dancing, hyung?”

Yoongi flushes, lowering the food and leaning over to read through the lyrics again, looking progressively more smug and more embarrassed. “Oh.”

Namjoon laughs and, satisfied, reaches for his food.

Maybe after Yoongi picks the track he wants to use, they can go home and get in some...dance practice, but for now, Namjoon is happy to be right where he is, next to Yoongi, making music together.