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Chapter Text

The zipper is not just the zipper. The zipper is actually the collective parts of fabric and metal that come together. The two pieces of metal at the start of the zipper track are called top stops, which makes sense. The teeth of the zipper track are actually called elements. Those elements are stitched along what is called the tape, often made out of polyester. In closed-end zippers, the elements lead down to what is known as the bottom stop, which is a similarly apt name. For open-end zippers, the tape leads down to the box pin, which fastens with the insert pin to connect the track. 

There are even more names to the parts of the small metal chunk that gets all the zipper glory. 

What you limit your definition of a zipper to is actually just the slider. The slider brings the teeth of the zipper together by running its body underneath the tape, collecting the teeth in what is known as its throats. The body houses a loop on the front called the crown. And attached to the crown is the familiar soda can-like pull tab.

That’s actually what you’re cursing at when you say, “Your fucking zipper broke.” The entire zipper is still intact. Technically, only the pull-tab broke. In your haste, it had snapped off of the crown. 

“Just rip it,” Namjoon whispers in the dark, fumbling for his fly. 

His hands are too wonderfully big and clumsy to hold the slider by the sides to get it to travel all the way down to the box pin.

You push his hands away to grab the belt of his slacks. Bunching up the fabric in your fists, you try to pry apart the elements from each other, but they’re locked tight.

“It’s too hard,” you complain.

“You should feel what’s going on underneath,” Namjoon mutters, making you smile.

“Scissors?”

Namjoon’s eyes pop open.

“I’m not going to cut it off,” you laugh. “That would be the opposite of what we both want. But I’m going to need access to it here pretty soon, or else I’m going to go insane.”

Namjoon’s already turned around, reaching for his pen cup and pulling a pair of scissors to hand to you. 

You hack away at the tough fabric of his expensive slacks. Almost immediately, Namjoon grabs both edges of the cut and easily rips a jagged tear down the thinner fabric to his thigh. He keeps his eyes on you as he does it. You know because you’ve trained your eyes on him, and the way he’s smoldering at you is making you even wetter.

“I owe you a new pair,” you say.

He scoffs. “You think that’s what I care about right now?”

Those strong hands reach out for you, and you feel his palms cushion the back of your head as his fingers tangle into your hair. He pulls you to him, and your lips lock in another rough kiss. You smirk at the jingle of Namjoon’s belt buckle hitting the linoleum floor.

He follows, taking no time at all to fall to his knees. It’s his turn to struggle with you, trying to pull your skirt all the way up.

“These fucking tight skirts that you wear,” you hear him grumble. 

“Pencil skirts?” you ask, shivering at his touch on your thighs.

“They’re called pencil skirts? ” he asks incredulously, licking his lips.

You laugh and recognize the look on his face. It’s the same look you get on your face when you think about men in suits with suede elbow patches cradling unorganized leather folios as they broodingly walk along the university grounds. You get a little too excited when you think about back-to-school supplies, and creating syllabi, and marking tests. Even with how jaded you are, and with all the stress that the semester brings, there’s a core part of you that has always romanticized what it is to be an academic.

When you take your hands off of his shoulder, he looks up at you questioningly. But as he hears you undo your own zipper in the back, he smiles, reassured. He waits until you look back down at him and smile, and he slowly pulls the fabric down, quickly learning how sweaty your thighs have become.

Your legs still pressed tightly together, he licks both of your inner thighs in one steady line from where your knees are touching up to your wet pussy. As he kisses your flesh through your soaking panties, your head starts to feel drowsy, and too heavy. He keeps kissing and licking you as his hands run down your legs again, and he grasps both of your ankles tightly, almost choking them off from your legs. He tugs upward on your ankle, and you move with him as he forces your knee to rise and bend. He slowly and carefully straightens your leg by tugging on your ankle and moving it to the side. He sets your foot down on the ground again, having cleared the tight ring of fabric that is your skirt on the floor. Your stance is broader now as a result, and his mouth is opening wider. You moan suddenly, and his eyes flash open as he looks up at you. He smiles, and you feel him use his tongue to gather the bunched up, dripping fabric of your underwear into a small bundle. He clamps down around it with his teeth, and he slowly drags the cloth down your legs to your knees.

You moan again, watching him. You’ve never been seduced this way. After seeing him do that, you wonder if you’ve ever been seduced at all.

He smirks and rises to your mound again, licking and sucking even harder now that he has full access to all of you. He finds your clit, and he latches to it with his lips. You threaten to lurch forward and lose balance, but he keeps his tight grasp around both of your ankles. You’ve worked with Namjoon for a while, and you know how tall he is, but you realize how long of a torso and how long of arms he has to be able to eat you out like this while keeping you firmly planted on the ground. 

You wonder what this means for the other parts of him. You hope they’re just as long and strong.

You’re starting to overheat. Your sweat isn’t beading anymore. Streams are rolling down from your forehead and the back of your neck, and down your spine.

“You’re gonna… Namjoon, you’re gonna make me…” you whisper. But you’re unable to finish the sentence. It feels so good, and you suddenly feel really embarrassed.

“Gonna make you what?” he asks in a low voice, smacking his lips as he slurps up your juices.

You whimper and try to find another way to tell him. “Fuck, Joon. You’re really good at that.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he says. “What did you think I was going to make you do?”

You sigh, annoyed. “Namjoon.”

“I wanna hear you say it,” he says, smirking.

You shake your head. 

“Well, I guess I’ll never know, then.”

You grab his head and push his face into your pussy, muffling his laughter.

“Make me come,” you say.

“Mmm,” Namjoon whispers, keeping his face there when you relax your grip on him. He reaches up and claws at your blouse. You understand him, and you unbutton it quickly, throwing it aside and kneading your breasts as he moves against you. His tongue finds a spot that you feel like hasn’t been activated in ages, and you come with your entire body.

Namjoon drinks it all in, and when you look like you’re about to wobble and fall over, he stands and wraps his arms around you, kissing your neck as your mouth hangs open to help you catch your breath.

“You look amazing,” he whispers. “Your body. Your tits. God, your cunt. It tasted amazing.”

Your hands slide under Namjoon’s sweater, and he pulls it off of him. You stare at his muscular chest and arms, surprised at how much he’s changed from the rail-thin newbie you met all those years ago. 

Your fingers raise a trail of goosebumps wherever they travel across Namjoon’s skin, and he groans when your hands near his massive cock, looking bigger and bigger as it twitches with excitement. He’s watching you, waiting to see what you’re going to do now. You put up a stone wall, hiding that you’re a little out of practice.

Lick your palms, you think. Or spit. Maybe he’s into spitting. But for some reason, you rub your hand against your pussy, using your fingers to clean yourself out of you. You cover yourself in your warmth and juices, and then you place your hand around Namjoon’s shaft.

His eyes grow with surprise. They clasp shut again when you start to rub him, equal parts massaging and teasing.

“That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” he says, concentrating so hard on your touch.

You feel him growing in your grasp. You’re going to need him inside you sooner rather than later, and if all you offer is your hand, then your 8 AM class will roll around before you get his dick inside of you.

You kneel down now, going to kick off your shoes to get more comfortable.

“Wait,” Namjoon whispers urgently. “Um, can you maybe… leave them on?”

You smirk as you wrap your lips around him. You remember that you’re wearing your showstopping emerald green pumps, the ones that tie at your ankle with a satin bow. You think of his hands grasped so tightly around your ankles. You like the thought of getting to know his kinks.

You reposition your body so that he can see your shoes as you work, and his moans get raspier. 

These heels. They always get the job done.

His cock tastes so good. A little tart. Sweet, even. Like something you already know. Like fruit. Apples. Something that you thought would be boring in its mundane knowability, but that truly refreshes you once you’ve allowed yourself a taste.

His breath hitches. “That’s so good. C’mon. Get up here. Let me fuck you.”

You stand, and he picks you up, placing you on his desk and shuffling papers out of the way. You laugh to yourself because you know that he’s stacking the papers in whatever order he’s laid out in his mind. If he doesn’t, he’ll forget and lose a day’s work. You so strongly relate. It brings you closer to him, somehow.

He smiles at you, thanking you for being patient, and knowing that you understand. He loves that you understand. And then he kisses you, pressing up against you, feeling every inch of your skin with every inch of his.

You spread your legs, and he steps into you. He lowers you onto your back, and you wrap your legs around his hips. He runs his hands down your legs and smiles when he meets the satin bows keeping your shoes on. He runs his hands back up your sides and rests them on the desk on either side of your head. 

He pushes into you now, slowly and rhythmically, helping you get comfortable around him. You’re so tight, but you grow quickly, and he bites down on your lip when you clench.

His eyes pop open.

“Shit, if you do that, I’m going to come right away,” he whispers.

“Mmm, I just wanted to see your eyes again,” you shrug, smiling.

Namjoon laughs. He doesn’t know how to tell you in the moment, but he finds you so intoxicatingly saccharine. 

You move against him now, and he meets you, your bodies coming together over and over, slapping, and later, bruising.

You want him deeper.

You wriggle out of his tight grip, and when he pulls back to arch and grind into you, you reposition your legs to go over his shoulders when he leans back down.

He moans at the quick glimpse of your heels, and then he ruts his hips into you, making you squeal. He bends down and plants himself between your breasts, turning his head to kiss and suck on them alternately as you groan encouragingly. He fucks you at an intense pace, sweat dripping down his entire body and glistening in the lights from the streetlamps on the grounds outside. 

You’re getting so tantalizingly close.

He runs his hands down your thighs and hooks his thumbs into the bend of your knees. He spreads your legs and straightens them in the air.

“Hold this still,” Namjoon tells you, digging his fingers into your left ankle to show you what he means.

You nod, only able to babble at this point.

Namjoon turns to your right leg and runs his hands up to your ankle. As he continues pumping into you, he slowly undoes the satin bow, running one of the strips of fabric through his fingers. He delicately removes your shoe and sets it on the desk next to you. He smiles at you, and he reaches over to do the same with your other shoe, leaving a trail of kisses down from your ankle to your knee.

He bites his lip and looks into your eyes, hovering over you.

“I’m gonna come again,” you whine.

“And again, and again, and again,” Namjoon whispers, kissing you on your cheek, on your neck, on your lips.

Neither of you stop until you’ve explored every corner of his office and start to notice the morning rays streaming in through the shades and making horizontal, thin, yellow lines. Both of you are on the floor, on your backs, bodies spent and aching, tired eyes staring up at the sunlit patterns on the old, cheap ceiling.

You can already hear your fellow faculty grumbling into their offices and some students chattering eagerly throughout the halls, all of them getting ready for another day of learning.

Namjoon checks his watch. “Guess we’re both canceling our 8 AM classes,” he whispers.

You laugh softly. “After that, I’m canceling my whole day.”

“Good. Me too, then.”

You turn your heads to look at each other.

Just over twenty-four hours ago, both of you were looking into each others’ eyes from across a conference room table, screaming that the other would shut up. Now, you realize that there are so many more questions to ask, and that you desperately want to find out each other’s answers.

**

The faculty lounge is misnamed. The walls are a yellowing eggshell color. There’s no couch or chairs or space for relaxation. There is a small kitchen, with one old, dirty, neglected fridge that you all know has rotting remnants of food from professors past, but no one has bothered to open its doors in decades, all of you instead circumnavigating the problem by buying mini-fridges for your offices and labs. 

You’ve never seen anybody lounge in here. You’ve only seen fellow professors screaming at each other over budgets, reagents, machines, students, and grant proposals. 

Professor Bang Si-hyuk, the chair of your department, is staring listlessly at the empty wall directly across from him, at the other end of a long, rectangular conference table, where professors are screaming about exactly those things.

Just another Thursday staff meeting.

Though, there is a new character in the cast. You share a glance with the only other junior faculty member sitting across from you. It’s only his first week, but he met your gaze with a similar look to the one on Si-hyuk’s face, seemingly resigned to a disappointing fate. Now, he’s awkwardly looking at the table, picking at the corner of plastic that has over time separated from the wood it was meant to protect.

“Can everyone be quiet, please?” Si-hyuk asks. He knows how useless it is. He knows that no one can hear him.

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks.

As junior faculty, you’re sitting at the end of the table closest to the door. But you’re so perceptive that you actually can hear him ask for everyone’s attention. 

You pity him. And the yelling is really starting to get to you. You’d had enough of it the night before, with your husband.

You get up and switch all the harsh, fluorescent lights off, and everybody finally stops talking. 

You wait for a moment, and before anyone can talk again, you switch the lights back on, choosing to turn on just half of the light switches.

Si-hyuk smiles warmly at you and thanks you. “She’s the only level-headed one of you lot,” Si-hyuk adds, sending a disparaging look around the room.

His eyes settle on the professor sitting across from you.

“It’s probably a good thing for you two to get acquainted,” Si-hyuk tells him, nodding over to you.

You give the new guy a warm glance, and he shares a friendly smile back.

“As you all know, Dr. Kim Namjoon is joining our faculty this semester, and he’ll be taking over the Introduction to Neuroscience class sections, as well as Professor Emeritus Cho’s music and cognition class,” Si-hyuk explains. “He brings with him his Music and Memory lab and equipment, including two graduate students named---”

Si-hyuk puts on his glasses and searches for their names on the paper in front of him.

“Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung,” Namjoon replies. You think you see a fond smile on his face when he shares their names. It’s refreshing to see a fellow professor not jaded enough to have completely given up on his proteges. 

Si-hyuk smiles too, finding the positivity infectious. “Excited to see what you’ll add to our department, Namjoon.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon answers. “Really excited to be here.”

“Speaking of the late Professor Cho,” Si-gyuk goes on, “thank you to all of you who donated to his family and attended his remembrance services this summer. He was a great and singular mind. Our field has lost someone irreplaceable. And I’d like to take a moment of silence now to honor him.”

You bow your head and close your eyes, but you hear a couple of whispers. You open your eyes and look around the table. Only Si-hyuk’s and Namjoon’s eyes are closed. Everybody else is staring daggers into everyone around them, playing out their arguments with hand gestures and shakes of their heads.

The moment passes, and Si-hyuk continues. “Now, I know you’re all wondering what will happen to Professor’ Cho’s funding and resources.”

The table finally falls truly silent, rapt with attention.

Vultures, you think.

“Well, I’ve chosen to retain the funding and equally disperse it among all of our senior faculty members,” Si-hyuk shares.

You sigh. 

“However, as a compromise,” Si-hyuk replies, not missing your disappointment, “I’ve decided that the next tenure award will only be open to our junior members.”

“What?” one senior member exclaims angrily, jumping to his feet. “I’ve been in this department for ten years longer than anyone else here! You’ve made me promises, Si-hyuk!”

This is the one thing that the senior members can agree on, and their voices raise in chorus instead of discordance.

You and Namjoon exchange glances.

“You hangin’ in there?” you ask quietly.

Namjoon frowns, and his eyes bulge open. Poor thing had no idea what was coming.

“And, Sejin, you haven’t published in nearly that much time, but let’s not get into it now,” Si-hyuk replies, brandishing his famous passive aggressiveness.

You gulp. It’s painful to watch, and even more painful to receive. The comment sends Sejin slinking back into his chair.

“One of my last conversations with Professor Cho was about how we have allowed toxicity to extend its horrible branches into our department. You’re all insanely competitive, and you talk in snide remarks instead of sentences. It’s a disgrace to the department that Professor Cho founded.”

You see Sejin roll his eyes.

“So,” Si-hyuk continues, “I’m keeping tenure on the line for two years. In that time, the junior member that proves themselves to be a similarly irreplaceable mind for our faculty will be put on the fast-track to a tenured position.”

In the moment, you wanted to highlight how making this a competitive endeavor was merely allowing the vicious, toxic cycle to continue flourishing. 

But that meeting was approximately 156 Thursdays ago. 

In the three years you’ve been in the department together, you and Namjoon have been working at an unrelenting pace, churning out study after study, paper after paper, conference talk after conference talk, all to be the first to Si-hyuk’s ridiculous and ever-shifting list of demands. 

Each year, the finish line unfairly moves a little further away. Si-hyuk looks at both of you on Thursdays and continues playing the passive-aggressive fool. Did he say that the first junior faculty member to secure a total of $1 million in funding would get tenure? He laughs and clarifies that he meant that the first to get to $2 million would. Did he say five publications in a year? He shakes his head. You’ve misunderstood. This university expects the best out of its professors. Twenty publications in a year will get you straight to tenure. And when you and Namjoon inevitably fail to hit these impossible targets, the cycle starts all over again.

The relationship that you and Namjoon have with each other is affected deeply. What started out as a perfectly nice and friendly camaraderie has turned into a threatening, unhealthy, and in some instances, nightmare-inducing, rivalry. 

It’s why you look at your husband bizarrely every time he asks, “Why do you let Namjoon get to you so much?”

“He’s the one thing standing in my way,” you always say.

Of course, you say it less often. There’s no one to say it to anymore. Jin’s your ex-husband now. He’s still employed at the university, but his work in romance languages and linguistics isn’t as fraught with this kind of competition. There’s still worth in the weight of words in his line of work. Only three words mean anything for you: publish or perish.

Jin didn’t get that, and he found it unbearable to try and keep up with you and your blind ambition. Evidence of that was already creeping up into your arguments, even before Professor Cho died, Namjoon arrived, and Si-hyuk put this whole catastrophic career nosedive into motion. Yours was thankfully an amicable divorce. But now, in the silence of the evenings, as you’re uploading grades, or thinking about your research, you miss hearing him remind you, “There’s more than enough for each of us to discover something really amazing.”

From time to time, you recognize that it is a shame that you and Namjoon aren’t on friendlier terms. You respect his body of work. And he seems to be one of the good professors. The ones who stay after class to answer questions. The ones who hold extra office hours for hard-working students who just need a bit of extra help. The ones who walk with their students to the counseling center when it all gets to be too much.

But on this particular Thursday, it’s war as usual.

Namjoon clambers into your leg, pinning the skin of your thigh between the base of his chair’s armrest and the leg of the conference table.

You sneer at him, and he shrugs.

“Alright, let’s make today quick,” Si-hyuk proclaims. “I have a 10 AM tee time.” 

You all scowl. Si-hyuk has become so detached from the work that he isn’t even hiding his escapades to the golf course anymore.

“We still haven’t done anything about the lights in the corner lecture hall,” Sejin says, bizarrely always eager to be the first in Si-hyuk’s line of fire. 

“Then change them,” Si-hyuk says simply.

“With what budget?”

“Your own. We don’t have enough to replace them right now.”

“My own budget?” Sejin asks. “To pay for industrial fluorescent lights? In a lecture hall that seats 500?”

“It’s either that or wait until the next semester.”

“It’s the first day of this semester,” Sejin keeps on. “You’re telling me we’re already out of budget?”

“It’s cute that you think we get a new budget every semester,” Si-hyuk says, distracted by his phone. “Honestly, Sejin. You should know better by now.”

“Can we discuss class size limits?” someone else asks.

“Adora, class sizes are already set,” Si-hyuk reminds her. 

“I know, but I’m really overloaded,” Adora responds. “Having six statistics lab sessions for four graduate TAs to cover is ridiculous, and now the registrars are pushing even more people in. How are our students supposed to juggle that and their own coursework and research?”

“They’re smart. They’ll figure it out,” Si-hyuk quips. “Is that all? If so, I’m going to grab some breakfast and---”

“I just wanted to announce that I have another publication,” Namjoon interrupts, glancing over at you to make sure that you’re paying attention.

“Mmhmm,” Si-hyuk says, his eyes still glued to his phone.

“So that means that I now have the lead at eight publications just this year,” Namjoon says, grinning at you.

You sigh. You were just tied at seven. To be fair, seven publications in one calendar year is appallingly high. You might have even immediately gotten a tenured position anywhere else. If there were positions anywhere else.

“What was the number I gave you last?” Si-hyuk asks.

Namjoon gulps. “Fifty.”

“This academic year?”

“This calendar year,” Namjoon says, exchanging a worried glance with you.

“No, that can’t be right. It’s fifty per academic year,” Si-hyuk replies.

He looks up at both of you.

“Given that it’s the first day of the semester, it sounds like you’re both tied again. At zero.”

You successfully extinguish the impulse to kick Namjoon hard in the shin, but the look on your face communicates the harsh message. Namjoon sighs and takes his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

If only he hadn’t said anything.

Si-hyuk stands. “Well…”

He looks around the table. You wonder what he’ll say to start the semester. You wonder if it’ll be inspirational, like the first year you were there. You wonder if there’s any glimpse of the man who hired you.

“...Toodles.”

Si-hyuk takes his leave, and you dejectedly collect your things.

“Most of my classes are in that fucking lecture hall,” Sejin mutters to himself, as he pushes past you.

**

You shrug off the morning meeting with relative ease and take a deep breath. You look up at the sprawling lecture hall and smile. 

It’s showtime.

“Morning, everyone,” you say. “This is course 4331, Cognitive Neuroscience, so if you’re in the wrong class, take the next couple of minutes to make your way to wherever you need to be. No judgment. We’ve all been there. We’ll pretend we don’t see you.”

The class laughs, and a few people skitter into the hall, one of them even sheepishly laughing and waving to everyone as they go.

You continue, “If you’re remaining seated, it means that you’ve taken all your intro psych courses, and perhaps even done research assistantships in one of the psych labs on campus. So you know that this is not an anatomically correct picture.”

You click to your first slide, which shows a famous picture of Homer Simpson with a peanut-sized brain. Your class chuckles.

“And, if you’re still remaining seated, it might mean that you’re entertaining pursuing cognitive neuroscience in grad school, so that you can move from this understanding of the brain, to this.”

You press the button on your clicker, and the gif morphs into an animation of some recent fMRI data that you’ve collected.

“This course is meant to give you a glimpse into that world. You’re going to learn not just about certain neural correlates of different types of cognitive phenomena, but also what it takes to set up the kind of research design needed to uncover these findings. The pace and rigor will be a little tougher, but I know you’ll all be up for the challenge.”

You spend the rest of the class going through the syllabus and answering questions, keeping the mood light so as not to overload your students. And you finish out by starting the first lecture. Class ends the way it usually does, with most students moving onto their next class, and some students lining up to introduce themselves to you.

The last one is a student you haven’t seen before, which strikes you as strange. By the time psychology majors make it to your advanced classes, you recognize most of their faces.

“Hello Professor,” he says shyly. “My name is Jeon Jungkook, and I’m a senior. I know it’s only the first day of the semester, but I wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed class today. You’re really funny. All the memes and jokes. It made it easy to pay attention.”

You smile. “Oh, well, that’s very nice of you. I’m glad you think I’m funny. I’ll be damned if I don’t fit a meme into every lecture.”

He laughs and smiles back, but then he looks a little worried, his eyes crinkling and his eyebrows slanting up.

“Do you have a question?” you ask, unsure of how to interpret his confused expression.

“Yeah, it’s just…” 

He holds out his phone to you and points out his class schedule.

“I think I’m enrolled in the wrong class,” he says. “I’m not a psychology major. I’m a music major, and I was trying to get into the other Professor Kim’s Music and Cognition class for my science credit, but I think the registrar mixed the titles up? Or maybe your names?”

You sigh, thinking momentarily of Jin finishing up his class, just like you are. You really should get your last name changed back to your maiden name soon. You curse that there are so many Kims.

“Why didn’t you slip out the door earlier?” You ask it in a friendly voice, but you’re a little annoyed that this student has made you think of your ex-husband and your rival in the same breath.

But Jungkook sets it right with a smile, a shrug, and, “You made me laugh, so I stayed to check you out.”

He blushes fiercely.

“I meant your class! I stayed to check your class out.”

You conjure all the professionalism it takes not to enjoy the soft Freudian slip and the twisted, nervous pout that it falls from.

“No worries,” you say. “Do you have some free time? I can walk you to his office. He should be there now.”

“Thank you!” Jungkook exclaims, his eyes bright and excited.

The Psychology department is trapped in its own time. The beige brick, windowless labs, and austere lines are remnants of its arrival on the scene in the 1960s and 1970s. The facilities were surely state-of-the-art back then, but as trends have changed in the research world, your poor building has been left behind by the university and overlooked even by its own leadership. It’s a shame. So much of the world could be so much healthier if people just invested in understanding people’s minds with an air of joyful discovery, without judgment.

Jungkook must be thinking the same thing about your building.

“I’ve never had any classes here,” he says, as you step into the elevator. 

The labs upstairs are a little better. You’ve been blessed with numerous grants funding your research, which has allowed you to transform your space. Instead of blackboards, you have whiteboards. Instead of projectors, you have wireless displays. EEG and other testing equipment lay abound. 

“Is that your lab?” he asks, noticing your lab “family picture” on the door.

“Yep,” you say, grinning at the picture of you and your students, Hoseok and Yoongi. In the picture, you’re laughing as Hoseok sticks the small birthday cake that you got for Yoongi into Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi’s grimace directly to the camera as it’s happening is a priceless, delightful moment that you’re so glad was captured. The three of you have been working together for a while, both of them serving as undergraduate lab assistants before starting their own grad careers, choosing to stay on with you. You’ve seen each other through various ups and downs, not just related to the work you do, but to your lives as well.

“You guys seem really fun,” Jungkook laughs, as you pass the lab and head down the hall.

“We are,” you admit.

You and Jungkook come to a stop at Namjoon’s open office door. You knock quietly and paint on a fake smile, the one that you both have agreed to use with each other when students (other than your grad students) are around.

He looks up and flashes his own fake smile back.

“Professor Kim,” he greets you, knowing how much you hate hearing it.

“Professor Kim,” you echo back. “And that’s actually why I’m here.”

You gesture to Jungkook, standing with you in the hallway, looking shy.

“This is Jeon Jungkook,” you introduce. “He’s a music major. He’s trying to get into your Music and Cognition class, but the registrar must have mixed us up. Do you still have room for him?”

“Sure,” Namjoon says, waving Jungkook into his office.

Jungkook turns to you. “Thanks so much for your help,” he says. “Would it be OK if I dropped by every now and then, asked some questions about the work that you do? I really am interested in it.”

“You’re always welcome,” you say with a genuine grin. “You know where to find us.”

He smiles and walks over to Namjoon, and you feel Namjoon’s gloating eyes on you. He’s won another student over. From your class. You even personally chaperoned the student over to him. Technically, you still have Namjoon beat by 20 in total enrollment, but you hate that he has something new to hang over your head. You know he’ll bring it up the first chance that he gets.

You return to your office to set your things down before you move next door to your lab, which is where you do the bulk of your work. You like your office, but you don’t use it much outside of heads-down time when working on manuscripts, or to meet with students.

You much prefer doing your analyses in your lab, where you, Hoseok, and Yoongi can chat as you work, sparking ideas in one another and catching things on the fly.

Yoongi walks in soon after, clearly having just rolled out of bed. You don’t care what time it is. Your own grad school advisor was so stringent about lab times and practices that it turned you off from developing any sort of meaningful relationship with her, and you know your skillset suffered as a result. You sometimes wonder if you’re too lax, but you know that Yoongi and Hoseok are hard workers who always deliver great results and discussion. As long as that continues to foster the kind of growth that they’ve had over the years, you’re happy.

“Starting the semester on a Thursday always throws me off,” Yoongi says, slumping down into his seat at his desk. “I got to campus today and was like, ‘Who are all these people?’”

“I know what you mean,” you laugh. University campuses always have a different quality to them over summer and holiday breaks. You like how quiet it gets. You share knowing nods with the dedicated people who remain. It’s almost like you can feel everyone thinking with each other.

Hoseok returns from his class and sits at his desk, setting his coffee down, ducking his head and shoulder out of his messenger bag strap, and sadly shaking his head.

“What is it?” Yoongi asks.

“I just saw Jimin and Taehyung,” he says. “They’ve got two of the stats courses. It’s a complete jungle.”

“Are they packing classes again?” Yoongi asks, as he and Hoseok turn to you.

“Sounds like it,” you say. “Adora mentioned it being a problem at our staff meeting today.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Well, I’m glad you got me and Yoongi assigned to the small weekly seminars.”

“Everyone else is pissed at us, though,” Hoseok adds. “Most of all, Jimin and Taehyung.”

Jimin and Taehyung have every right to be pissed. Taking a huge statistics class load will affect their research significantly. Unlike the weekly seminars, which are quite free-form and open only to upperclassmen, statistics classes require several exams, a paper, and one major project. The two of them will be extremely busy with additional grading and classroom management duties, plus the unexpected increases in section size limits. It boggles the mind how many ways universities will exploit their graduate students to keep from hiring more expensive faculty and staff.

You feel bad for thinking it, but at least that also means that Namjoon is at a disadvantage for publications.

“We take it in turns,” you say, knowing the ebbs and flows of grad school and trying to feel less guilty. “There might be a semester where your class load skyrockets. Try to have some empathy.”

“Not this year,” Yoongi says. “I’m defending my dissertation and getting the hell out of here.”

“When should I expect that next draft, then?” you joke.

“Uh… soon,” Yoongi says, shrinking a bit and turning back to his computer.

You and Hoseok chuckle, not because you doubt him, but because Yoongi has hit whatever the grad school version of senioritis is. 

You’re glad, though. It means that he’s ready.

A wave of nostalgia washes over you, and you look over at Hoseok and Yoongi, typing away at their computers. 

You remember how nervous Yoongi looked when you showed him how to set up the parameters for preprocessing his brain imaging data. He commented that it looked so complicated. Whenever you see him complete this step for a project, you think you see a flash of that worry, just for a second. It goes away when he starts the steps that he’s long since memorized. You admire that he’s come so far and started to make a name for himself without losing who he was at his core.

You also remember how thrilled Hoseok seemed when you unveiled the new EEG equipment. He seemed to delight in the participant recruitment stage, making easy conversation with them as he walked them through what was often a very messy and confusing process, what with the caps and gels and electrodes. From the first day of data collection to the last day of manuscript edits, Hoseok always brought that excitement to your work, reminding you to celebrate the small wins, too.

You haven’t celebrated the small wins in some time.

“Hey,” you say, “you know what we haven’t done in a while?”

“Cleaned the faculty fridge?” Hoseok asks, as Yoongi makes a face.

“Thursday pub trivia night,” you say.

Yoongi and Hoseok exchange glances and smile, but then they look like they’re trying to calm down a little.

“Are you… are you saying you want to go?” Yoongi asks carefully, just to check.

You’re touched by how excited they seem. You’re a close lab, and you’re more of an older sister-figure to your grad students given your relatively small age gap. For better or worse, this means that you’ve all shared more of your personal lives with each other. That time Yoongi seemed to be struggling with stress and anxiety. That semester Hoseok was arguing with a family member. That summer, when Jin quietly served you with divorce papers.

“Yes,” you say. “You guys wanna go tonight?”

“That sounds really nice, actually,” Hoseok replies. 

You smile. “Then dinner and drinks on me.”

**

The manuscript is starting to take a more defined shape, and you smile at the feeling of accomplishment swelling in your chest. Your more recent work is some of the most creative stuff you’ve submitted, and you hope that this article gets accepted to your target journal. It’s a reputable one, with a high impact factor. You wonder if that might count for anything in helping you get the edge over Namjoon.

Someone knocks on the door, and you turn to see Jin standing in your doorway. He looks amazing in his tweed suit, tie just a little loose. You picture him adjusting it on his walk across campus.

“Hey,” he says.

You turn back to your computer.

“Hey.”

“Of course you’re still here. It’s only 6:30,” Jin remarks sarcastically.

You sigh.

“Busy?” he asks, after clearing his throat.

“Kind of.”

Jin slowly ambles over to you, standing just behind you, and reads over your shoulder.

“New publication?” 

“Not so loud,” you whisper, eyes darting over to the still-open door.

Jin nods. “Right. Sorry.”

He sits on the inside of your desk, an eyelash’s distance away from you, and he looks so good that you almost jump on top of him. You wish you weren’t still attracted to your ex-husband, but he’s objectively and devastatingly gorgeous. You of all people should know that there’s no fighting fact.

“You look nice,” he says, and you wonder if he thinks the same thing. His eyes slope over you, from your emerald green blouse, black pencil skirt, and matching emerald green pumps.

You smirk to yourself. You wore this outfit, and those shoes, for this very moment. You hoped they’d get the job done.

“What do you want, Jin?”

“Just… wanted to say… happy first day of school,” he says.

You roll your eyes.

“And,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “uh, I’m… I’m seeing someone. It’s not anyone you know...”

Your mouth goes dry, your chest tightens, and you get a little disoriented. You can hear him talking, but you aren’t sure what he’s saying, exactly. You get the sense that you’re keeping up pretenses well if Jin is still speaking. You snap yourself out of it while he’s finishing up.

“...serious, so I thought I should tell you.”

“You’re seeing someone, and it’s getting serious,” you echo, hoping that’s enough to summarize what he’s said.

“I mean, basically, yeah,” Jin says. 

“It’s serious, two months after our divorce,” you can’t help but add.

Jin sighs. “I just told you. I didn’t even know her when you and I were together. I just happened to meet her at some book reading. But yeah, it’s moving pretty fast.”

You swivel your chair around and look up at him. “Well, congrats, I guess,” you say.

Jin blinks. “That’s not---”

“Also, just a note for the future, when you come to me with this kind of news -- could you maybe not sit on my desk?”

He looks down and sees that aside from being so intimately close to you, he’s crumpled your notes. 

He jumps to his feet and laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m just used to---”

“Well, it’s serious, so you probably shouldn’t be sitting on other people’s desks,” you say, turning back to your computer.

He straightens.

“Right.”

“In fact, you don’t even need to come to me with this kind of news,” you say, barely masking the hurt. “It’s not like I’m owed that information.”

“You’re not?” Jin asks.

“No. Do you think you are?”

Jin blinks.

“Well?” you ask.

“I-I mean,” Jin stutters, looking at the ground, “I, well, I’d like to know if you…”

He looks back at you.

“Are you dating someone?”

You pause and look at the ceiling. 

“...No.”

“Well, what does that mean?” Jin asks, getting flustered.

“What do you think it means?”

“It definitely doesn’t mean ‘no’,” he says, annoyed.

“Does it matter?” you ask.

Jin narrows his eyes at you. “Fine. I get it. Bye.”

He turns on his heel, and he walks into the hall. You try not to watch him go, but you turn your head just as Jin bumps into Namjoon in the hall.

“Sorry, man,” Namjoon says, taking a small step back. His head was down, buried in thought as he was reading a stack of papers.

Jin scoffs. He straightens his suit, and then he walks away.

Namjoon turns to see you, your eyes having softened at Jin’s departure. When Namjoon’s gaze meets yours, you look quickly away, back to your screen, feeling exposed.

You don’t know how long he’s been standing there eavesdropping. Thankfully, Namjoon doesn’t say anything. In your periphery, you can see that he lingers for a moment, but then he continues down the hall, to his office.

You wonder how mad Yoongi and Hoseok will be if you cancel on them. After a moment, you save your work, close everything down, and slip into your coat. You shoulder your purse and walk over to the lab, where Yoongi and Hoseok are also gathering their things.

Before you open your mouth, Hoseok cheers at you, and Yoongi says, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day. I’m starving.”

You button up your lips and decide right there and then to power through the evening.

The walk to the pub isn’t that long, and you chat about the day you’ve had as you go. Hoseok tells you about a student who got psychologists and psychics mixed up while answering a question. Yoongi shares some results from his most recent comparison tests. You mention Jungkook, and Yoongi and Hoseok mutter about Namjoon, fully supporting you and deeply invested in the lab rivalry.

“Ugh, speaking of,” Hoseok says, as you enter the pub.

You see Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung in a booth, sharing drinks and writing their names on a quiz sheet.

You wonder if this night can get any worse.

“They’re even in our usual spot,” Yoongi says. “It’s insulting.”

Jimin catches sight of you, and he whispers to Taehyung and Namjoon. They look at you, Jimin and Taehyung smirking playfully, even giving you a friendly wave. Namjoon smiles happily at Yoongi and Hoseok. His face falls flat when he looks at you. 

“Shake it off, boys,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “Focus on the task at hand. We are The Neuromantics, and we are out for complete domination.”

Yoongi and Hoseok nod, and you all slide into the corner booth in the back, giving you a clear shot to the quiz master, as well as to Namjoon’s table.

You haven’t studied general trivia in a while, so you know you’re going to be a little rusty at the start. You all definitely have science covered. You know you’ve got pop culture, entertainment, and literature covered. Hoseok’s thankfully there to balance your weaknesses in languages, especially without Jin around. You hope Yoongi’s aptitude in history and philosophy not only scores you some correct answers, but that his similarly strategic mind will help you make good decisions about how to weigh your answers against the points that you’ll bet. 

After he gets settled, Hoseok walks over to the quiz master to give him your team name. The quiz master gives a little wave, remarking on how it’s been a while since he’s seen you last. Hoseok makes some friendly small talk, and then grabs a quiz sheet and some answer cards. He joins you at the booth, where you all place your orders with the waiter.

“The first question topic is Art!”

The pub stills, everyone settling down to hear the question.

You and Namjoon scowl at each other.

“Easy now,” Yoongi cautions you, catching the deadly look in your eye.

“Famous for her jewelry, what character was the inspiration for Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer's painting of the same name?”

The quiz master turns on a song to give you all some thinking time and background music. You don’t need any of it. You gesture for the answer card and quickly write, Girl with a Pearl Earring.

Hoseok takes the answer card and turns it in, racing with Jimin to get there first and nearly toppling the quiz master over.

As they rush back to their seats, embarrassed, the quiz master picks up his microphone and says, “Friendly reminder that you don’t have to be first to turn in your answer, just make sure that your answer is correct.”

The song ends, and the quiz master announces that everyone got the question right, and you’re glad Yoongi told you to bet 3 points on the first question.

“The next question topic is Sports!”

“Even better,” you say, writing a “1” next to the points that you’ll bet on this one. Yoongi covers all basketball questions, but if it’s anything else, all three of you are hopeless.

“Which country has appeared at every World Cup Finals since the first in 1930?” the quiz master asks.

“World Cup?” you ask. “Is that hockey?”

“That’s the Stanley Cup,” Yoongi laughs.

“The World Cup is football,” Hoseok says, looking at him.

“Do you know?” Yoongi asks.

“Not for sure,” Hoseok admits. “If I had to guess, I’d say---”

“Write it down,” you remind him, sliding the answer card over. He writes Brazil on the blank and, on his way to the quiz master, narrowly misses colliding with the waiter approaching with your drinks.

He sets them down on the table: three whiskeys, two neat, and one on the rocks.

“That’s not what we ordered,” Yoongi says, confused.

“I changed the order,” you say, leaving the whiskey neats for Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Really?” Yoongi asks excitedly. “Thanks!”

Hoseok returns, and you raise your glasses. He picks up his drink and grins at the happy surprise. “I thought this was just trivia night. Are we celebrating something?

Yoongi watches as you down almost half of your drink in one gulp.

“I thought we were, but now I’m not so sure,” Yoongi remarks.

“Relax,” you say, setting your glass down. “I just haven’t had a nice drink in a while.”

“Sure,” Hoseok says. “I thought I saw Professor Kim leave your office earlier. It couldn’t have anything to do with that, could it?”

You shrug, and Yoongi nudges Hoseok to stop probing.

“Well, screw him, anyway,” Hoseok says, to end it.

You smile at him. You try not to think of the new person who actually is screwing him.

The song dies down, and the quiz master pipes back up. “The third question topic is Science!”

“Science!” the pub cheers, in keeping with pub trivia night tradition.

“What is the six-foot unit of measurement for calculating water depth?”

The next song starts. It’s slower than the others.

“Knot?” Hoseok tries, forgetting not to say answers out loud.

“No, that’s speed,” Yoongi says. “Maybe it’s a league? Y’know, like, 20,000 of them under the sea?”

The question and the whisky send you back to the last time you sailed on Jin’s boat. It was a year ago, the last time you allowed yourself a real summer vacation. You were cuddled together, watching the sunset, covered by a blanket, and surrounded by Jin’s strong arms. It was a rare, happy point in a marriage that was startling to buckle. You had just made love and told each other that it was all still worth saving. That you still loved each other. Jin’s lips were by your ears, nibbling them. “Can you imagine anything better than this?” you asked. And he whispered, “I can’t even fathom it.” You pushed back against him and his lame joke, and he kissed you so sweetly that you thought you might cry.

You gesture for the answer sheet, and you write fathom in the blank.

Suddenly, you’re rising to your feet, dropping the answer into the answer bucket, and veering off to the bathroom. You allow yourself thirty seconds to feel all of whatever pain and heat is rising in your throat, stinging in your eyes, and shaking your lungs. And then you wash your hands, splash some water on your face, and go back outside like the trooper that you are.

You pass by Namjoon’s table.

“We’re tied yet again,” Namjoon mutters, with a smirk.

“Not for long,” you spit at him, and Jimin and Taehyung exchange looks. You think you see Taehyung whisper something to Jimin that makes Jimin giggle and Namjoon look at him with scorn, but you pay it no mind. 

You’re wrong, though. You stay tied until the very end.

“We’ve got a head-to-head showdown here between The Neuromantics and Synapse, Crackle, Pop!” the quiz master announces. He finds your two booths and smiles at you. “This competition is going to depend on how you assign your points to this last question! Are you ready?”

Each of your slightly tipsy booths cheer.

“What about it, gang? Are we ready to see them through?” the quiz master calls to the rest of the pub.

They cheer. It’s been a particularly epic night, with challenges, corrections, and controversial calls.

“The last question topic is Music!” the quiz master exclaims.

“We’re fucked,” Hoseok mutters.

“Shush,” you say, pen poised, never one to give up.

“In his song Ain’t No Sunshine, how many times does Bill Withers sing the phrase ‘I know’ in the third verse?”

The six of you still in the competition all immediately start playing the song in your head and counting, the task made difficult by the quiz master playing a completely different song.

“I got 22?” Hoseok asks, his face bright red from all the four rounds of drinks you’ve had.

“I got 27,” Yoongi says.

“I’m pretty sure it’s 25,” you say.

“Split the difference?” Hoseok asks. “26?”

Yoongi exhales. “I’m comfortable with that.” He looks at you. “What do you think?”

“Let’s do it,” you say, your heart pumping. “How many points?”

Yoongi grins. “All of them.”

“What?” Hoseok exclaims. “What if we get it wrong? Then we fall to last place!”

“Go big or go home,” Yoongi says, shrugging and finishing his third beer.

You nod. “I like where your head’s at, Yoongi.”

You fill out the answer card, and Hoseok runs the answer up to the quiz master.

Namjoon looks worried at the speed with which you’ve come up with the answer. You flash a smile at him and raise your bottle of beer. He shakes his head, shoots you a smirk, and turns back to his booth.

Taehyung turns in the answer, and the quiz master clears his throat.

“Alright folks, let’s see what we’ve got!”

He holds out both answer cards and checks your responses. He smiles. “Well, we’ve got a clear winner!”

You, Yoongi, and Hoseok exchange glances and start getting excited.

Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin lean forward in their seats, almost as if getting ready to jump up.

“One team says it’s 22,” the quiz master says.

Yoongi looks at Hoseok. “If that ends up being the right answer, you’re gonna be pissed at us tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” Hoseok says.

“The other team says it’s 26,” the quiz master goes on. “And both teams have bet all their points.”

Namjoon glances back toward you.

“The answer is… 26!”

You, Yoongi, and Hoseok cheer, yelling and drumming on the table. You even quickly stomp your feet, your emerald heels clacking against the wooden floor.

The three of you get up to collect your prize: a gift card for $50.

But the real prize is the victory lap in front of Namjoon and his team. 

Namjoon is tearing up his answer card into little pieces, half-smiling at you as you march up to the front. 

Hoseok thanks the quiz master and takes the gift card. The whole pub cheers. You even see Namjoon clapping for you.

As you walk back to your booth, Hoseok eyes the pile of torn bits of card. He reaches over, collects it in his fist, and throws it in the air like confetti, making all six of you laugh.

“Last round on us?” Yoongi asks Jimin and Taehyung, and you smile at Yoongi heeding your words about empathy.

“Hell yeah!” Jimin says, as Taehyung smiles and nods. 

“Well, you all have fun,” you say. “I’m just gonna finish my drink and then head out.”

“You sure?” Hoseok asks. “It’s late. We can walk you back to your car on campus when you go.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, looking at everyone, even Namjoon. “Great game. See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks again, Professor!” Yoongi cheers, both him and Hoseok giving you high-fives.

Taehyung eagerly leans over Jimin to give you a high-five too, and you chuckle.

You walk back over to your booth, and Yoongi and Hoseok follow you to get their things before joining Taehyung and Jimin at the bar. 

You pull out your phone and  begin to scroll through your emails, just in case any reviewers of your submitted manuscripts have updates for you. 

When you feel eyes on you, you look up and see just Namjoon and his beer bottle standing there, you feel the friendly competition vibe dissipate and morph back into the cutthroat rivalry you’ve been embroiled in for the past few years.

You swear that he’s sneering at you.

You take a deep breath. “I saw you looking at me like that earlier, and if you’ve come here to make fun of me for enjoying this so much, then you can fuck right off because I’ve had a hell of a day, and it’s mostly because of other stuff, but it’s partially because you brought up the publications race to Si-hyuk, and I just needed a win,” you say.

Namjoon steps closer, and now that his face is lit a little better, you see that he’s not sneering. He’s genuinely smiling at you, like he did on his first day.

“I just came here to say…”

You stare at him. “Yeah?”

“Just… Congrats, I guess,” he says, straight-faced, extending his hand for a handshake.

You smirk. Which turns into a smile. Which turns into a laugh.

“You asshole,” you say, accepting his hand. 

Namjoon laughs softly, shaking your hand gently and taking a drink from his beer bottle.

“Can I sit?” 

“Fine.”

He joins you, and you sigh and stretch. The tealight flame dances in his glasses.

You wince. “How much of that did you hear?”

“With Jin?” Namjoon asks.

“Yeah.”

“Not much.”

“Bullshit.”

“OK, all of it,” he says. “You weren’t being loud. And I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

“Bullshit,” you say again, shooting him an unamused smile.

“I wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to turn into something else,” Namjoon says resolutely. 

You know what he means. Jin’s shown up to your office unannounced before. It unfortunately was the same day that the dean was visiting to hear Si-hyuk’s case for increased resources and budget. Jin was yelling in the hallway, and you had to hide him in your office to calm him down while Namjoon and Si-hyuk rerouted the dean away.

You didn’t get the money. Not necessarily because of Jin. But if the dean had noticed, it certainly wouldn't have helped.

“Are you OK?” he asks.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say.

“OK, well, let’s talk about something else,” Namjoon says, and you can tell that he already has a topic in mind.

“I knew you were going there,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Where?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Who?”

“That student that I brought you,” you say.

Namjoon blinks. “Oh, right. Yeah.”

“That’s not where you were headed?” 

“No?”

“I swore you’d bring that up the first moment you got.”

“You’re still ahead of me by, like, 20,” Namjoon says. “I don’t gloat until I have a reason to.”

You sigh. Why are you so punchy tonight?

“Sorry,” you say. “I’m being… I’m just a little…”

“I get it,” Namjoon says. “Me too. We’ve been doing this thing for so long that it’s like I don’t even really know how to talk to you like a person.”

You nod. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

He takes another swig from his bottle. You used to have a great rapport. You would eat lunch together and spend the time orienting Namjoon to all the usual stuff. On the first day, it was stuff like where the bathrooms were, or how early to get to the faculty parking lot to ensure a good spot. After the first month, it was stuff like restaurant and art gallery recommendations. By the end of the first semester, though, things had soured.

“The Neuromantics,” Namjoon laughs. “That’s good.”

“Synapse, Crackle, Pop,” you chuckle back. “That’s funny. You come up with that?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, grinning. “You?”

You nod. 

“Are you a fan of that era? The fashion? The music? Duran Duran? A Flock of Seagulls?”

“Both. Boy George,” you say. “My mom was a huge Boy George fan in the 80s.”

“She has good taste,” Namjoon says, eyeing your blouse. “Seems like you do, too.”

You feel embarrassed, but you’re not sure why.

“Well, anyhow, tonight was fun,” you say. 

“Yeah, you really had us going,” Namjoon says. “You have no idea how soul-crushing it was to lose on a music question.”

“Oh, we knew,” you say, smiling smugly.

“It kind of made me wonder…”

He stops himself and checks in with you before he goes on. It’s like he isn’t sure if he should say what he’s supposed to say.

“Wonder what?” you ask.

“I don’t know. Like… what could we have been had we not let work get to us?”

He smiles sadly as he finishes the thought.

You lean back in your seat. “Probably friends, or something,” you say. “I really liked hanging out with you. In the beginning.”

“Me too.”

You feel safer as the conversation stretches on. Seeing Namjoon by candlelight instead of fluorescent light is making it easier to humanize him. He’s just so daunting at work. 

“I’ve thought about this a few times, actually,” you dare to admit, the realization propelling you forward in your seat. “I really respect your work. Especially that study looking at older adult associative memory differences in experts versus novices in musical training. It was a unique study.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon says, brightening. “I’m a fan of your work as well. That one paper… identifying left dorsolateral prefrontal cortex activity in source memory formation during distracting tasks. It was an elegant argument.”

You smile. You thought so, too.

“It’s kind of one of the reasons I thought to apply here,” he shares.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says. “My university was shuttering so many departments to make room for the stuff that’s making money. Y’know, computer science, data science, business. I thought it was great to see you and the department flourishing.”

He clears his throat.

“Or, at least, seem to flourish.”

“I know things are a little bleak right now, but we still technically are flourishing,” you say. “Seven and eight publications in a year? I’ve never been that productive or successful.”

Namjoon nods. “I guess that’s true.”

“You’re also good with students,” you say. “I saw what happened with your undergrad research assistant… the one who was crying in the stairwell?”

“Yeah, she was going through a rough patch.”

“I saw you walking with her to the counseling center,” you say. “I was on my way back from one of my classes in the Life Sciences building. You didn’t just drop her off. You actually stayed with her.”

Namjoon nods and smiles.

He looks at the table.

“I know about Yoongi.”

“You do?” you ask.

“He told me about it once. I was maybe saying some…” Namjoon looks uncomfortable. “Some competitive things about you,” is how he decides to phrase it. 

You shrug it off. So have you.

“Yoongi was in the hall and stood up for you,” Namjoon says. “He found me later and asked me not to have those kinds of conversations in the open. And then he told me that I was wrong. That you weren’t as cold as you maybe seemed to me at the time. That you opened your home to let him crash for a while. And that you opened your wallet to help him get the medical support he needed.”

You both fiddle with the labels on your beer bottles.

“Sometimes we’re all they have,” you say mournfully, and Namjoon nods.

You watch each other. It’s surprisingly comfortable to be around one another. Almost too easy.

“If things had been different,” he says, “I think we definitely would have been friends.”

A couple of undergraduate students creep up behind Namjoon. Your eyes flick over to them, prompting Namjoon to turn around.

“Hi, Professor 11,” one giggles, before they scamper off.

Namjoon turns around, blushing fiercely and smiling awkwardly.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes wide, mouth salivating at the chance to mock him.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters.

“It’s definitely something,” you laugh. “They’re still staring at you.”

Namjoon sighs. “Have you heard of Hot or Not for Teacher?”

“What the fuck?” you ask. You haven’t, but it already sounds terrible.

“It’s exactly what you think it is,” Namjoon says.

You pick up your phone and find the website. It’s just a search bar, and when you search Namjoon’s name, you’re taken to a page with hundreds of posts and ratings. Students are sharing notes about his classes and what to expect, which you think is nice. But there’s also a rating scale at the top in the shape of a volcano, and it’s meant to calculate how attractive the students think that professor is. The scale goes from 0 to 10. Apparently, 11s are saved for the likes of Namjoon, who has received so many 10s that his volcano icon is animated, bursting and dripping with lava.

“Jesus,” you say. “This is incredibly demeaning and completely against the spirit of what we do.”

Namjoon smirks. “Just search for yourself. You know you want to.”

You frown.

You do.

You secretly fear that you’re a 0.

You truthfully expect a 5 or 6. You know how to put yourself together, especially when you have the right accessories.

And you find out you’re a 10.

“What?” you ask. “That can’t be right.”

Namjoon smiles at you. “Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?” you ask, annoyed.

“You didn’t question my rating a second ago. Does that mean you agree that I’m an 11?”

For the first time in quite some time, you’re speechless. You sit there, poised as if you have something to say, but you don’t.

He laughs and takes it as a compliment. “So, what’s your rating?”

“10,” you say, still confused.

“No, that’s right. If anything, it’s low,” Namjoon says with a flirty smirk before he takes another sip.

Your heart thumps.

You stare at him blankly.

“But… but students are always weird around me,” you say. “Like Taehyung. I caught him saying something about me to Jimin earlier.”

“He was talking about how attractive you are,” Namjoon snickers. “And, since you brought him up, there’s your pet Jeon Jungkook.”

“My pet?”

“Yeah. He, uh, given our names, he...” 

You can’t explain it, but it’s not like you feel sad every time Jin comes up. It hits you randomly, in waves. And in this context, it’s not so sore.

“Did he ask you if we were married?” you ask.

Namjoon laughs, relieved. “Yeah. And then he asked if you were single. And when I didn’t answer that, he muttered something else.” He looks a bit embarrassed. “It was something that was meant as a compliment.”

“Yeah, right,” you say, though you do think of Jungkook’s cute slip from earlier.

“Do you… do you really not know?” Namjoon asks, looking at you seriously now.

“Know? What? What is there to know?” you ask.

He leans forward and gestures to you to meet him halfway.

Before he speaks, he notices something. His fingers climb into your hair and pluck a piece of his answer card confetti from it. He sets it down on the table, and he touches it with the tip of his index finger, swirling it in a slow, small circle on the tabletop. 

His eyes are inescapable.

“Well, whether you believe it or not, you’re a hot professor.”

You blush.

You both settle back in your seats. You spend the next few minutes just reading each other. This whole mood is way different than any other moment in time that you’ve shared. No one’s yelling. No one’s scowling. You’re just… smiling.

“I think I’m gonna go,” you say, feeling nervous.

“It’s late,” Namjoon says. “Can I walk you to your car?”

You try to shield how excited that makes you. “Um, sure.”

For some reason, you think to scan the pub for Yoongi and Hoseok. You don’t see them or Jimin and Taehyung anywhere. 

You slip your coats on and head out the back. Just in case.

You walk at a slow pace, side by side, staring straight ahead. You keep your arms to yourself, his hands in his pockets, and your arms crossed over your chest to keep out the cold.

The campus is beautiful and still at night. Street lamps help light the way. There’s also the soft, blue glow of the emergency stations every so often, like mile markers on your journey. You know you will pass about three more before the path splits, one leading to your building, and the other leading to the faculty parking lot.

“Are your feet OK?” Namjoon asks, glancing down at your heels.

“Oh, they’re fine. Thanks for asking, though,” you say.

Namjoon nods.

“I like campus at night,” he goes on. “I like it when it’s quiet. Like when the students are away for break. It’s so peaceful.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It has a magical quality to it.”

Namjoon smiles. “Yeah.”

“But have I kept you out too late?” you ask. “Do you have a long drive?”

“No, I live just over half an hour south of here,” he responds. “You?”

“About five miles east,” you say.

“That’s practically no commute!” he says in astonishment.

“Yeah, right,” you say, “with as congested as it gets here? Especially in the mornings?”

He nods.

You walk for a little while longer.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he says.

The way he prefaces the question clues you into the fact that this question will probably be the Jin question. You don’t feel particularly pained by it now, thanks to the alcohol, and maybe a little thanks to the flirting. There’s no one around, so you venture into this territory with him.

“What do you want to know?”

Namjoon looks at the ground again. 

“What happened with Jin? You seemed so perfect for each other.”

You know that’s how it seemed. Because that’s how it was for a while.

“I think I drove him crazy,” you answer. “He just… didn’t get me.”

“Oh.” Namjoon looks at you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK,” you say, looking back at him. “It’s for the best.”

You walk a little more, and as you near the fork in the path, Namjoon clicks his tongue.

“Shit. Do you mind if we take a quick detour?” he asks. “I just remembered that I left my phone in my office earlier. I was going to get it on my way back after trivia.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, and you follow him back to your building.

You smile at each other when you get on the elevator.

The hallway is completely dark when you reach your floor. When it’s earlier in the evening, the lights are activated by motion sensors. Because it’s so late, they’re off for the night.

“Hang on,” you say, pulling out your phone and guiding the way.

Namjoon sighs. “It’s a good thing you came with me,” he says. 

You head over to his office, and he unlocks the door. You stand in the hallway as he uses the light from the street lamps coming in from his window to retrace his steps.

“Can you see?” you ask.

Namjoon bumps his knee on the edge of his bookshelf.

“I’ll take that as a no,” you say.

He curses to himself, and you laugh. You find him so handsome like this, slightly irritated, but generally good-natured, sleeves rolled up, eyes looking determined, his body outlined by the lamp light.

“Here,” you say softly, trying to stifle the heat rising from your core, “let me help.”

You enter his office, and for some reason, you close the door quietly behind you. You sidle up to him, by his desk, and shine the light for him to see.

“Here it is,” Namjoon says, finding it by his pen cup.

He turns around, and he startles at how close you are.

You linger, but then you become self-conscious, so you move to step back.

To your surprise, Namjoon sets his phone down and reaches his hand out for you, grasping your elbow and pulling you into him. 

“Jin’s a fucking idiot,” he whispers to you. “You drive me crazy. Every day. In the best, most all-consuming way.”

You look up at him in wonder.

Suddenly, you’re kissing, and you’re surprised at how good it feels. You feel his hands running all over your body, like they’ve been curious about it all along. You love how warm he feels, exuding some kind of strange, inebriating energy that’s impossible to ignore or resist. It penetrates you, making your muscles tingle as his hold on you gets tighter and more urgent.

And then your hands reach down for Namjoon’s tricky zipper.

Chapter Text

“How is this going to work?” you ask.

“Do we need to figure that out right now?” Namjoon asks.

You’re both still sprawled out on the floor, giggling quietly with each other.

“No,” you whisper, smiling. “Not… this.” You reach for his hand, interlacing your fingers, and you both roll inward, looking at each other and embracing. “I mean the situation we’re in right now. What we do next. You do realize that if we don’t figure out a move soon, we’ll be stuck here for the next ten hours, at least.”

“Let’s take some time to think it through.” 

He crawls over to the door and makes sure it’s locked. He’s wearing nothing but his watch. The gold face catches the sunlight and shines back at you. You smile as you watch him smiling at you, then crawling back to you, then rolling on top of you and kissing you deeply.

“Namjoon,” you warn, starting to get heated.

“C’mon, I thought we were canceling classes,” he mutters.

“In the first week, though?” you ask, breaking your kiss. “I mean, I know it’s Friday, but I do have three new lectures today. I was half-kidding when I said I was canceling everything.”

Namjoon groans, lying on his back and pulling away from you. “For a moment there, I really thought I was gonna get to fuck you in this spot for the next ten hours.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you whisper, rolling on top of him and reconnecting for more kisses.

His arms feel so strong around you, and his body is solid and firm underneath you.

“Working out, huh?” you comment, running your palms across his chest as you sink into him. “You look great. But I guess you already knew that, Professor 11.”

He grins, a mix of embarrassed and proud. “Aw, c’mon.”

“Oh, I’m telling you right now. I’m never, ever letting that go.”

“Mmm. I didn’t say I wanted you to let anything go.”

He deepens your kiss by cradling your head, his hand brushing softly through your hair. His other hand runs down the nape of your neck and along your spine. It follows the slope of your ass, his forearm pressing against the cleft, and his palm planting itself on your pussy. He tightens his hold on you, and you squirm as he starts to swirl his fingers in a circle by your pussy’s moistening entrance.

You shiver.

“It feels good?” he asks.

“So good,” you whisper hoarsely. “Shit, if you keep going, you’re gonna make me come again.”

“Well, if we don’t have the next ten hours, then I’d better move quickly.”

He moves his fingers faster, and you break your kiss to rest against his chest, your lips just barely touching his neck. And then, he slips his middle finger inside of you, made more sublime by the feel of the base of his stiffening cock rubbing against your clit, and his length grazing your pussy lips as you grind against him. 

You go slack-jawed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He rests his chin on top of your head, and he moves his hips against you. You dig your face into his chest to muffle your whimpering, placing kisses on his skin as quietly as you can, sucking on his nipples as you writhe against each other. 

Juices are flowing from you now, and as he feels the preview of your release around his finger, he sticks his index and ring fingers inside of you to get more, his wrist winding so that each finger stimulates as much of you as it can. You open your mouth wider, scraping your teeth against his chest, even biting his nipple slightly when his hand and cock move in just the right way. He sharply inhales at the feel of your teeth, a grunt catching in his throat before it becomes a moan. And then he comes. You feel him spurt out onto you, your pussy lips, and your ass. You feel him quiver underneath you, the only moment when he lets his body yield for anything other than you. And you’re thankful. The feeling of his cum on your flesh and his body shaking sends you into rapture, and you bite down harder into a mound on his pecs to keep from howling.

“Namjoon,” you whine, melting into him as he gently rubs you to help you come down. “Fuck. We have to get out of here. I want more of you, but if we leave now, like this, we’ll definitely be fired.”

He brightens when you say it.

“Maybe there is a way we can cancel class after all,” he replies. 

Your brow furrows under the weight of the tensions of the real world that are slowly but surely coming back to you. You don’t see a way out. 

“How?”

He rolls you onto your back and kisses you. Then, he reaches for his shirt and cleans you both off, teasing and tickling you as he does it. And then, he kisses you before getting up and going to grab his gym bag, which you now see under his desk. He pulls out some basketball shorts, a shirt, and a hoodie. 

He hands you the hoodie. “Sorry if it’s a little gross,” he whispers. “I, uh, did weights yesterday.”

“Oh, Professor 11 did weights yesterday,” you tease quietly, slipping your bra and skirt on, and stuffing your blouse and panties into your purse.

He rolls his eyes and puts on his shorts and shirt. “Not all of us can be as naturally hot as you, Professor 10,” he says softly. 

You playfully throw him a smooch, and he bites his lip. His dimples smile out at you. You get the impulse to lick them.

You gather your things and slip into the hoodie, clutching your purse close to you and zipping the fabric around you to hide it. 

He grabs his phone and types on it. When he’s done, he puts it in his pocket, and he looks at you.

“I just texted you my address. Go down the east stairwell. Try not to be seen. I’ll go down the west. Whatever happens, just keep walking to your car, and meet me at my place. Go straight there. OK?”

“OK,” you confirm.

“Ready?”

“Wait, no, my shoes,” you say, scanning the floor. “I don’t see them?”

Namjoon licks his lips and smiles at you. He turns to his desk, and you both see your stunning, emerald green pumps set just on top. He walks over and picks them up, and then he kneels in front of you. You know you’re both thinking about how turned on he was by them, and he seems to be getting turned on now, as he helps you into your shoes, starting by tying the silk ribbon around your left ankle.

“These babies really did something to me,” he mumbles, looking up and smiling at you.

You smile fondly at him. “You should have seen your face. Now, whenever I wear these, it’s all I’m gonna be able to think about.”

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about?” he asks, moving to your right ankle. “You biting down on me, just earlier.”

“Oh,” you say, blushing. “I really didn’t mean to, I’m sorry for---”

He tightens the knot on your right ankle so swiftly and tightly that the silk rubbing on silk makes a sharp, high-pitched thwip! You feel like if you leave that knot for longer than the next 10 minutes or so, you might lose circulation to your foot. 

“I’ll get you back for that,” he says, grasping your ankle, narrowing his eyes mischievously, and kissing your thigh before he stands.

You smile and shake your head as you tuck your hair into the hood of the borrowed hoodie, careful to pull the sides up to help hide your face.

Namjoon stuffs his ruined shirt and torn pants into his gym bag, and he shoulders the strap.

“OK, now are we ready?”

You let out a nervous breath. “I think so.”

“Here we go,” he says. 

He walks over to the door and opens it, just a smidge. He looks both ways down the hall and sees that it’s empty. He glances back at you and nods once.

You both make a beeline for your respective stairwells, luckily passing no one on the way. This high up, the stairwell is still, thankfully, empty. As you pass the halfway point and start to get to the lower levels, though, you see more and more faculty and students heading to where they need to be. 

You briefly contemplate running back up the stairs to hide in your own office, but that wouldn’t solve anything.

And then, the fire alarms go off.

The noise blares through the entire building, and chaos ensues. Sprinklers start showering water everywhere, and people scream and run outside.

You try to keep from laughing and focus instead on running the back way to the faculty parking garage. You try to ignore the silk band of your shoe digging into your skin as you run. You’d rather have that ribbon cut through your flesh than risk stopping and getting caught in Namjoon’s workout hoodie and yesterday’s skirt.

You make it to your car without incident, and you don’t bump into anyone you know, or who knows you. You jump into your car, silently thanking the inventor of keyless entry and ignition. You undo the hoodie’s zipper, leaning down so that you don’t accidentally expose your bra to anyone passing by. You shake your arm out to pull your purse off of you and set it in the passenger’s seat. You put your arm back in the sleeve, zip the hoodie back up, and press the start button on your dash. As your car springs to life, you turn back to your purse and reach for your phone.

Your notifications appear, and you see Namjoon’s address waiting for you. You open the text thread, and you see that the last time you texted each other was three years ago. The last message in that conversation was from him.

Kim Namjoon (11:42 PM): Thanks for that rec. You have great taste. Let’s grab a bite to eat here some time. 

You can’t believe you lost sight of who Namjoon truly was. You’d forgotten that he isn’t the monster you make him out to be. You’d forgotten about the conversations you had had about the best spots in the city. When you started listing not just restaurants and pubs, but museums, the performing arts center, and the observatory, you worried that you’d come across as a nerd, even to a fellow nerd. But he actually visited them all, and he loved them. He told you so at your daily lunches that first month, and you felt oddly happy that you connected in that way.

You smile to yourself as you tap on his address, and your navigation app opens.

You put the car in reverse. 

As you drive, you think about which restaurant he must be talking about. It has to be one of the casual spots. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have said something like “grab a bite”. You narrow it down to a nearby cozy cafe, a hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop, or a taco stand that only does el pastor, which is your favorite. It’s been ages since you’ve been to any of them. 

Soon, you find that your app is directing you to pull into a residential area, and you can’t help but feel giddy when you see Namjoon’s car in his driveway. He’s standing at his front door, and he waves when he sees you, but then he frowns when you panic and drive past him.

You park on the street, a couple of houses down, just as he calls.

“Hey,” you say.

“Where did you go?” he asks.

“I thought maybe I should park a little farther away, just in case,” you say, looking back at his house through your rear view mirror. 

He’s on the sidewalk, looking toward you. “Gotcha. Smart.”

“I do have my PhD,” you quip, making him snicker. “But then again, look who’s talking. The fire alarms? Genius.”

“Come compliment me in person,” he tells you. 

You grab your purse and hurriedly walk toward him, quickly scanning to see if anyone’s around. You join him at the end of his driveway, and he walks with you to his front door.

As soon as you step inside, you’re all over each other again. You drop your purse to the ground, and he unzips his hoodie to pull you out of it.

“Fuck,” he breathes, when he sees your bra. “I forgot that you didn’t put your shirt back on. Seeing you in my hoodie, like that… It’s fucking hot.”

He plays with your bra, lifting the straps to make your breasts jiggle a little.

You laugh, moans escaping from you when he toys with you. You grasp his wrists and run your hands up and down his forearms. “I want you,” you tell him. “Where’s your bedroom? I need you to fuck me, but I don’t want it to be on hard concrete again.”

He kisses you and picks you up, holding you diagonally and leaning your legs around his left hip because your pencil skirt is keeping you from being able to wrap your legs around his waist. You hold on tight, and he takes you upstairs and into his room, where his bed is neatly made. He sets you down, you both quickly shake out of all your clothes again. He climbs on top of you, and you realize that he’s already hard for you, too. He thrusts into you, and it hurts a little at first, but you want it to. You want to feel the burn of him stretching you out, and the slight snap when he’s fully inside, like he’s locking into place. 

His strokes are more like last night’s, less controlled now that you know that nobody is around, and you’re in a space where you can be as loud as you need. He lets out a cry and looks up at the ceiling, and you know he’s getting close again.

You tighten, and he runs his sloppy tongue up your neck to your lips, pulling you into another amazing kiss.

And then you come, laughing as you ride the waves, clenching down around him to get him where you are. 

He whimpers and flows into you, shuddering and lying on top of you, both of you panting. He places soft kisses on your cheeks, and then he rolls off of you, but stays close, always needing some part of him to be touching you. 

“Fuck, I’m getting so sore,” you laugh. “Do you think we’ll have to go back to campus?”

“Didn’t you see the email that Si-hyuk sent out?” Namjoon asks. You shake your head no, and he says, “The sprinklers short-circuited the main line, so the building’s out of commission all day and through the weekend, at least. All classes are cancelled until further notice.”

You laugh. “Again, genius.” 

Sighing, you roll onto your stomach and smile at Namjoon. He stares back at you, lying on his back. He reaches for your arm, and you sidle up to him, wrapping it around him, your fingers playing with his hair, just behind his ear. He runs his finger up and down your forearm.

“Let’s hang out all weekend, then,” you say. “I’ve needed something like this. I didn’t realize how badly.” 

Namjoon beams. “Me too. What should we do?”

“Well, that probably requires us to talk about… this.”  

You intertwine your fingers with his, and he smirks. 

He folds the covers over you both as you snuggle into one another. He stares at the opposite wall for a little while.

“Probably best to keep it a secret, just for now,” Namjoon says. It’s pragmatic, but your heart does a little flip at the prospect of this being something meaningful down the line.

“Probably also best if we stick to weekends, generally,” you add. “The week gets too busy for dates anyway.”

“But if there’s something we want to do on a weeknight, I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” he says, grinning. 

You laugh. “Alright, alright. Weeknights aren’t totally off the table.”

“Does that cover everything?”

You look up at him meaningfully. It’s all moving so fast, and you don’t know how to tell him about the thread of fear that’s stitching together these moments. The fear you had of being caught at the pub. The fear you had of being caught in his office. The fear you have of going down this road with him at all. Just yesterday, you had chastised Jin for moving on so quickly. Is it fair for you to do the same?

“If we decide that we do want to be serious about this… we really can’t let work get between us,” you reply.

Namjoon nods. “I never wanted it to,” he replies.

He kisses you, and your fears are soothed for now. This could be good. It comes from a place that is pure. You can get back there.

“I think we’ve covered everything,” you say, grinning. You’re starting to get excited. You think about what it will be like to pause your time for something else, someone else, again. It sends a thrill through your veins.

“So, if that’s all sorted, then… what should we do now?” Namjoon asks, yawning a little.

Your eyes are starting to feel heavy again, too.

“Nap?” you ask. “I’m so fucked out.”

“Nap it is,” he chuckles, kissing your cheek.

You close your eyes, and with Namjoon next to you, it takes no time at all to fall asleep.

**

Yoongi has sent you six hilarious texts. 

You sit on Namjoon’s couch, wrapped up in Namjoon’s workout hoodie, chuckling softly as you read. 

Min Yoongi (9:45 AM): Sorry, I overslept. Heading into the office now.

Min Yoongi (10:22 AM): Cool, so I just got to the building, and there’s fire trucks and repair teams everywhere? I’m going to take this as a sign that we’re working from home today?

Min Yoongi (10:36 AM): Got back to my car, and I just now read Professor Bang’s email. I feel dumb. Please ignore my previous texts.

Min Yoongi (10:37 AM): Also, Hoseok and I just wanted to check in. We know how you get when you have anything stronger than a wine spritzer. 

Min Yoongi (2:04 PM): Are you alive? Is this a thing you do when you're waiting for dissertation drafts? It’s not working.

Min Yoongi (2:12 PM): OK, fine, I’ve sent you a new paragraph. Hoseok and I are a little worried. Please send a text when you get this.

You smile to yourself and send him a text back to let him know you’re just fine.

You (3:17 PM): 👍😴

Almost immediately, Yoongi texts back stock photos of painkillers and a glass of water.

Namjoon, now wearing a pair of boxers, shuffles into the living room, smiling at you lying there.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asks.

You shrug. “We both needed sleep, and with everything you gave me…” You sigh, trying not to get heated again as you think about your time together, or as your eyes slope over his body. “Anyway, I think you might have needed it more.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss you.

“What’cha doin?” 

You show Namjoon the text thread, and he laughs. “Yoongi’s a cool guy,” Namjoon says, nodding. “Super smart, too.”

“Yeah, he’s headed for big things, if he ever finishes his dissertation,” you laugh. “And look.”

You open your food delivery app and show Namjoon that tacos from your favorite stand are en route and will be delivered in about fifteen minutes.

“Oh, yes,” Namjoon sighs, kissing you again. “Fuck. That’s amazing. I love that place. I grab a bite there at least once a week, ever since you recommended it to me.”

You smile at him. You knew his last text had to be about the taco stand. And if there’s anything to know about you, it’s that you love being right. “Go freshen up,” you tell him. “By the way, I hope it’s OK that I used your shower.”

“You don’t have to ask. And you could have borrowed clean clothes,” Namjoon says, tugging on his workout hoodie.

“I did,” you say, raising the hoodie a little to show him that you’re also wearing a pair of his boxers.

He falls silent, and his face falls flat. He looks at you. He seems so solemn.

“Are you still sore?” he asks.

You grin sheepishly. “We went all night. And then this morning? I think I’m going to be sore for a little while,” you admit.

He takes a deep, calming, refreshing breath.

“I’m going to go take a very, very cold shower,” he says.

You bite your lip as you watch him go, equally dizzy with attraction, and incredibly flattered that someone like him would be so into you. 

That sentiment resonates with you. Even after you’ve put all of your ugliest traits on display, actively worked to take advantage of him, and wished for his downfall, he’s still so drawn to you. He took care of you and responded in ways that even Jin hadn’t. You think about the day that the dean came around your offices, and it serves as an interesting metaphor. When Jin comes barreling into you, yelling at you and making you feel bad, Namjoon gives you space to figure things out. 

It might be a tricky comparison, though. Jin only reacted that way after things between you had begun to crumble. And you had your share of the blame. You wonder if it’s fair to Jin now to be comparing them while you sit on Namjoon’s couch, wearing Namjoon’s clothes, with Namjoon’s taste on your lips.

The taco stand recommendation text had been a slight point of contention between you and Jin. He had seen the notification pop up while you were away from your phone, and he casually asked how things were going between the two of you. When the communication between you and Jin started getting harder and harder, he would often point to that text as the possible moment that everything shifted for him. So you and Namjoon stopped texting. And you stopped talking. And when your blind ambition and work obsessions started getting the better of you, Jin chained himself to that text. It was the hill he was going to die on, and his battle cry was, “You’re fucking Namjoon, aren’t you?”

You shake the thoughts out of your head when you notice that the water in the bathroom isn’t running anymore. You hadn’t done anything inappropriate with Namjoon, perhaps arguably until last night. But that had nothing to do with Jin. It had nothing to do with anyone else except you and Namjoon, finding this connection and deciding to let it play out. 

Though, there is a part of you that’s wondering. Why are you fucking him? And why now?

Someone knocks at the door, and you confirm with your app that it’s the food that you’ve ordered. You get up, answer the door, thank and tip the delivery person, and you bring the food to the living room, where Namjoon is getting soda and water bottles from his fridge. 

You set up camp there, on his couch, your legs resting on his lap, and watching a music documentary in Namjoon’s queue as you eat. You share some of those interests. Favorite bands and musicians. Favorite genres. Favorite producers. Favorite eras. You’re happy to find that you have the same taste in both food and music. You poke fun at each other in the rare instances where your tastes mismatch. 

Your bellies now full, you remain on the couch, lying lengthwise on your sides, with Namjoon spooning you. You’re talking more than you are watching. When the documentary moves on to a section about rap music, Namjoon lets out an excited, “Ooh!”, and it tickles your ear, making your lips curl into a crazy kind of smile that you’re glad he can’t see.

“If I could be anything else in the world, I would want to be a rapper,” Namjoon explains.

You laugh, and Namjoon grabs at your stomach, tickling you and making you squeal.

“Sorry!” you giggle. “I just didn’t peg you as a rap fan.”

“Rap aficionado ,” he corrects you. “It’s influenced everything in my life, from who I am, to what I look for in other people.”

“So,” you say, amused, “what do you look for?”

When he speaks, his voice is low, seductive, and right in your ear. 

“I love from butter pecan to blackberry molass'. I don't discriminate, I regulate every shade of the ass. Long as you show class, and pass my test. Fat ass and breasts, highly intelligent bachelorettes. That's the best, I won't settle for less,” he recites.

You grin, leaning back, pressing against him and pushing him into the back of the couch. “Mmm. And do you often get mistaken for Big Pun?” 

You can’t see it, but Namjoon’s eyes are sparkling at your comment. He’s impressed.

“What?” you ask, self-conscious at the silence, and trying to turn around to face him.

“Sorry, I didn’t peg you as a rap fan,” he jokes, kissing you on your neck.

You both chuckle and settle in even closer to each other.

“And you?” Namjoon asks. “What do you look for?”

You don’t have as extensive of a repertoire, but you know something that fits. You smile and say, “Ambition makes me so horny. Not the fussin' and the frontin'. If you got nothing, baby boy, you better get up, get out and get some, shit.”

Namjoon laughs. “Damn. OK.”

He cuddles you tighter, and a contemplative silence falls over you both. You feel like another Jin question is hanging in the air, but you aren’t sure if it’s because of your earlier memories, or if it’s really being prompted by Namjoon’s curiosity. It seems to be a little of both, as Namjoon says quietly, “Is that where the disconnect was?”

“With Jin?”

“Yeah. You mentioned something about him not getting you.”

Namjoon’s reassurance makes you feel better. You’re appreciative that this is coming up because you know that if this is left up to you, you’ll only let it sit unaddressed until it starts to fester and seep into everything else. That’s what happened with Jin.

“It’s kind of why I brought up work not getting to us,” you say, sitting up and climbing out of Namjoon’s arms.

He sits up, and his face softens. His eyes grow wide with the eagerness to listen, but they don’t balloon from over-concern. He even smiles slightly, helping you ease into what you’re about to share.

“It’s the thing I still have to learn,” you say. “With Jin, I really let my work stuff get to me. I carried it home. It would be six in the morning, and I’d still be on my laptop from pulling an all-nighter, and he’d be waking up next to me. I’d say good morning, and he’d say good morning, and then he’d go start his shower. And I’d realize that the last time we spoke was saying good morning the day before.”

Tears threaten to brim at your eyes, and Namjoon reaches for your hand. 

“Tenure was all that I could focus on. And that left me little room to focus on other things.”

He sighs. 

“I hate that for you. Both of you.” 

He sighs again, weightier. 

“God, I’m so sorry---”

“No, not your fault,” you say. “It’s just a shitty situation, and I could’ve done much, much better.”

“Well, so could I,” Namjoon says. “I could have pulled back. Or just, y’know, talked to you. I’ve really wanted to talk to you. For a long time.”

Your eyebrows raise. “About what?”

“Sometimes, I’d come home, trying to figure out ways to get the jump on you,” Namjoon says. “I’d be obsessed. I really, really hated you. Because I’d blame everything on you. Every rejected publication. Every failed project. They were all, somehow, your fault. And after a couple of weeks or months of that negative energy fueling me, I’d just snap, out of nowhere. Never at school, but at home, alone. I’d just go down some dark roads. Start questioning everything. Feel like giving up.” 

“I know the feeling,” you say. “Believe me.”

“And that’s why I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Namjoon says. “Whenever I’d go into that spiral, I’d think nobody would ever understand me. But I always wondered if you were ironically the one person who would.”

You lean forward and give him one long, gentle kiss. You pull away, but you both linger, hovering close to each other, the skin of your cheeks or lips sometimes touching, your eyes still closed, both of you listening to each other breathing. 

“There were so many times that I wanted to call a truce,” Namjoon says.

You laugh at his word choice. “A truce?”

You both giggle and pull away again, opening your eyes and smiling at each other.

“Were we not at war just yesterday morning?” he asks.

You nod and say, “We were, but just hearing it said out loud. A truce. Makes me realize how much I blew this out of proportion.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m going to try not to do it again,” you say.

He kisses you and holds you close to him, but you start to cry. You hadn’t admitted all of that to anyone yet. You’re not even sure if you were fully done processing it. But it all just came spilling out of you. He strokes your hair, rocks you side to side, and whispers to you that things are different now. 

You desperately hope so.

The weekend bleeds into one long stretch of time exactly like this. Hanging out at his place. Then, hanging out at yours. Eating. Fucking. Eating again. Watching stuff on TV. Reading. Eating. Fucking again. Sleeping. You keep waiting for the glow to dissipate. But even on Sunday afternoon, as the two of you are lying in your bed, having just come down for your millionth high of this amazing weekend, and now working on your laptops to prep for Monday morning, you’re still surrounded by that ineffable feeling. 

The feeling that this is going to be something.  

It starts to rise in your chest as you lazily look away from your laptop screen to give your eyes just a bit of a break. You see Namjoon’s gym bag out of the corner of your eye. You know it doesn’t contain his workout clothes. It contains a change of clothes for work tomorrow morning. You think about how he asked you for your opinion on this shirt versus the other. He’s so hot that it doesn’t matter, but being asked warmed your heart.

You look over at Namjoon and smirk at the way he’s lying down. Only his head is propped up against your headboard. The nape of his neck rests flat against the pillow, and the rest of his body is lying down. His laptop is perched on his stomach, and his arms wing out so that his hands can rest on the keyboard. At this angle, he’s forced to type with the very tips of his fingers. 

“You think your students will be able to tell that you worked on their lecture slides naked?” you ask him, chuckling a little.

“Maybe that would get more of them to class,” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you. It’s made even cuter by the fact that his glasses are slightly askew.

You laugh and reach over to fix them. He grasps your arm before you completely pull it away, and he presses a kiss just below your wrist.

“Besides,” he says, “you’re one to talk.”

“I’m not technically naked,” you say mischievously, raising your leg.

At the end of that leg sits a hot pink stiletto, and Namjoon grunts. 

“I didn’t get them off?” he asks.

“You got me off,” you tease.

“Mmm.” 

Namjoon leans up and kisses you, making you giggle and sigh. He pulls away, and you smile at each other. 

You close your laptop and tuck your hair behind your ears. “OK. I need to know. How long has this been a kink of yours?”

“Creating lecture slides naked?” he asks.

You laugh. “The shoes.”

“Oh, well…” 

Namjoon laughs, but then he brings his lips together for a tight-lipped smile.

“Ooh, there’s a story here!” you buzz.

He sits up, still smiling, but looking a little solemn. You move your laptop off your lap and move Namjoon’s from his. 

“Before, when we talked about Jin. You shared the thing that you still have to learn,” he says. “This one’s mine.”

Your grin dwindles, and you turn your body to face him to give him your undivided attention. 

“My ex wasn’t a really adventurous person, sexually. And didn’t think I was either. We talked about this when we first met in college. I dated her almost right up until I started here. And to be honest, she and I were very happy. I was even planning on proposing. I had the ring and everything. I picked out the day. Planned an outdoor picnic. Lowkey, but meaningful”

You smile. “Sounds nice.”

“It would’ve been,” he says, nodding. 

You sink a little. You know how the story ends, obviously. But it’s rough to see Namjoon reliving this, especially because of a question you asked. You wonder if that’s how Namjoon feels watching you talk about Jin. 

“If you’re not ready or willing to share, please don’t feel forced to,” you say.

“No, I want to share,” Namjoon explains. “It’s just, well, I saw it all play out in my head again.”

You wait as Namjoon gathers his thoughts and takes a breath. 

“A group of friends from college were visiting us for a holiday. We were having some drinks late one night, just hanging out and talking out back. I realized that she had disappeared somewhere, so I went looking for her. Wanted to make sure she was OK, wasn’t sick, too drunk, whatever. And I… I found her in our bed with my best friend.” 

You cringe. The pain hasn’t quite left his eyes.

He sighs. “And in addition to, y’know, the bone-powdering crush of the infidelity, I noticed that she was handcuffed to the headboard. She was under one of my best friends. Handcuffed . To our headboard.”

You watch him. You can’t really read his expression. You realize that it’s because he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to express. 

You shake your head. “Wow. I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

“I didn’t either,” he says, laughing, his eyes wide. Even a little crazed. “I mean, what do you do? And for some weird reason, I fixated on that, y’know? The handcuffs. Where the hell did she get handcuffs? Did she buy them for him? Did he bring them with him? And then I just pictured him going through security at the airport, with those handcuffs in his luggage.”

His hand is resting on the mattress. You place yours over it. He picks your hand up, and he kisses the back of it. He pulls you close in to him.

“It all ended right there and then?” you ask.

“No,” he says. “It was so messy. And scarring. And I just kept thinking about those damn handcuffs. In one of our fights, our many, many fights, she said that that was the root of everything. She felt like I didn’t want to explore with her. That I wasn’t adventurous enough, generally. And I told her that had she told me about this, I would have opened up. We could have done more. We could have sought out new experiences. But then she told me about when their affair started, and it just… It had been going on for so much longer than just that night, so it didn’t really matter. She said she didn’t know what she wanted. So I decided for us.”

“Joon,” you say softly.

He smiles sadly. “It’s OK.”

“It isn’t, though.”

“Well… I’m OK. Now.” 

He kisses you, and you sigh into him. And then, he lightens.

“I will say that going through that breakup got me thinking about what I want out of relationships, too. For instance, I’d prefer relationships where people don’t cheat.”

You laugh, and he starts to grin. 

“I dated a couple of people after she and I broke up,” he goes on. “I opened myself up to new things. I met someone who I never thought would be my type. She had these great red high pumps. I thought they were really, really sexy. And though things with her ended up being more of just a fling, the interest kind of grew from there.” 

“What do you think gets you off about them?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I like taking them off. I like having something else to undress.”

“Good to know,” you hum suggestively, and he bites his lip.

“And… there’s something about the way they look,” he purrs, starting to run his hand up and down your arm. “Heels, specifically. What they convey. People generally think that they’re signs of femininity. Gender norms and such. Or just downright sex. Like, just the simple act of it. But I see more to them than that. Someone who chooses to wear heels knows exactly what they want. They go so far as to disregard their own comfort for an aesthetic for a particular reason. They’re purposeful. Bold. Strong. Clear. And I like that.”

Your heart is racing, listening to him talk like this. His body of work has given you little glimpses into the way he sees things. The way he formulates arguments. The way he designs his studies to uncover findings. The way he presents ideas. But it’s not until this weekend, this new connection, that you start to garner an appreciation to what he actually notices. He’s incredibly perceptive and attuned, even when he’s just looking at a shoe.

When you pull away from him, Namjoon fears that he’s said something offensive or concerning. But when you smirk and turn your body so that your feet face him, he smiles. 

He reaches for the buckle next to your right ankle. He undoes the strap, and he raises your foot, kissing where the buckle met your skin. He slips the shoe off of your foot, his lips and tongue tickling you but staying planted as you squirm. He does the same with your other shoe, and then his kisses start to travel up your calves. Then your thighs. Then your scorching hot flesh.

His tongue parts your folds, and you lie back, your left shoulder hanging off the edge of the bed. Soon, you’re in such ecstasy that you have to fight to keep your head from falling. He grunts, watching you, his eyes peeking up at you as he pushes you back, your neck now bending uncomfortably against the border of the mattress. It all mixes together. His mouth over your lips. His tongue on your clit. His hands on your hips.

“Fuck, Joon, god,” you whisper as you come.

You feel the smirk on his lips when you say it.

He slides you even farther back, your head, shoulders, and arms fully hanging off the bed.

“Press your palms against the floor,” he tells you, kneeling between your legs.

You do as he says and hold yourself up, and then he slides into you. He’s so delectably huge that he stretches you out, and because you’re still sore from that entire weekend’s activities, it does hurt. But he goes slow to help you adjust to him.

Suddenly, your pussy walls lunge past the pain and back into pleasure, and you’re moaning out of need.

“Harder,” you whine.

He smiles and obliges, fucking you hard and fast. 

Out of nowhere, he hoists your hips up with his arms, and you’re nearly completely upside down. You feel a mix of your release and his precum starting to drip down your ass, making it to your back as he pounds into you. 

“Right there,” you gasp, as he hits the perfect spot, making your arms shake and struggle to keep your head from slamming into the floor.

“Shit, it’s like trying to stick my dick into a straw, you’re so fucking tight,” he mutters, making you laugh.

Responding to his words, your body involuntarily clenches, and he groans. You come again, more violently than before, grabbing fistfuls of carpet as he spills into you, grunting over and over again until he’s empty. His cum starts to drip down your ass, and he pulls you up and into him before it falls to the ground.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be so messy my first time staying over,” he laughs sheepishly, completely exhausted.

You wipe up his cum and stick your fingers in your mouth, sucking on it noisily and making it a point to swallow.

“Easy cleanup,” you say.

“Fuck,” Namjoon breathes, pulling you in for a kiss.

**

It’s odd to see Namjoon in clothes, sitting across the table from you, trying not to make eye contact lest you give everything away.

You’re both desperately trying not to smile. If you smile, every professor at this conference table will know something’s up. Nobody ever smiles at this table. But Namjoon’s making it very difficult, playing footsie with you underneath. 

“The main floors and lecture halls are all fine and cleaned up, but they don’t know how the alarms got triggered,” Si-hyuk chatters on. “There was no fire. They suspect there’s something faulty with the alarm on the second floor of the west stairwell, so it will be replaced. And our sprinklers short-circuited the main power line somehow.”

“What set off the sprinklers, if there was no fire?” Sejin asks.

“We have an automatic system,” Si-hyuk says. “If the fire alarms go off, the sprinklers go off. Don’t you remember your orientation?”

Annoyed, Sejin reminds him, “It’s been a while since my orientation.”

Si-hyuk looks around the table.

“Namjoon,” he suddenly booms.

Namjoon clears his throat. “Uh, yes, sir?”

“You’re the newest here. Didn’t they talk about the automatic sprinkler system in new faculty orientation?” Si-hyuk asks. “It should have been day one stuff. Emergency plans.”

“Couldn’t say, sir.”

You bite your inner cheek to keep from laughing.

“Sounds like you’re all overdue for another faculty in-service training, then,” Si-hyuk says. He types something into his phone, and then all of your phones start to buzz. You’ve all received calendar invites from him for an all-day training set for the upcoming weekend. 

Everyone groans.

“Do we have to be on campus for this?” Adora asks. 

“Yeah,” Sejin chimes in. “The info is all just slides. If you want us to do it, can’t we just do it from home?”

“So now you suddenly remember your orientation?” Si-hyuk asks Sejin, daring him to speak, his eyes threatening a second day of training.

This is horrible. You don’t want any of your weekend to be spent doing anything other than expanding on the high that Namjoon’s leg is giving you as it rubs against yours under the table.

“If I may,” you venture, “thankfully, no one was hurt, and everything seems to be fine. If anything, we should be concerned that the sprinklers didn’t go off in any of our offices or labs. I’m glad we didn’t lose any work, but if there had been a fire, we could have gotten stuck. We could have died. Dozens of us. Trapped.”

The table slowly turns back to Si-hyuk.

His eyes widen at the realization. 

“Call it even?” Si-hyuk asks.

You smile.

The appointment disappears from all of your calendars.

“Is that all, then?” you ask. “Our 8 AMs are starting soon.”

“Fine,” Si-hyuk says, dismissing you all with a wave of his hand.

Everyone shuffles out of the room, and Sejin even whispers, “Thanks.”

When you and Namjoon are the only ones left in the room, he smiles at you, and you shoot him a sly wink.

You make your way to the elevator and stand next to each other quietly as more faculty and students pile on. Namjoon’s hand hovers close to your thigh. He sets his pinky on it, and you take in a breath.

You split off from each other to get to your designated lecture halls. You take a moment to glance back at him, but then you collide with someone’s back, hard . 

“Sorry!”

You turn around, and Jungkook is staring at you, horrified.

“Oh god, sorry,” he repeats, falling to the floor.

He kneels to pick up his things, and you bend over to help him. 

“My fault,” you say. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Sorry.”

When he stands again, his arms are hugging his notebooks, textbooks, and pencil case. You hand him his headphones and phone.

“Why are you carrying all of this when you have a backpack?” you ask.

“It’s stuffed. Laptop. Food. Uh, mostly food,” he laughs. But then he looks at you and turns bright red.

“Uh…”

You furrow your brow.

“Um, I’m so sorry, Profesor, but… uh… your shirt…”

You look down and see that your top two buttons have come undone, likely caught on one of the pins decorating Jungkook’s backpack. 

“Yikes, sorry,” you say, shouldering your purse and doing the buttons quickly.

You can’t help but mentally smirk at the feeling of Jungkook looking without looking like he’s looking. That expression, plus hearing about Jungkook’s comments to Namjoon, has you just the slightest bit intrigued about what he said exactly.

“My fault,” he mumbles, as you set yourself right again.

“Well, sorry again, and take care,” you say, moving past him.

“Oh, wait, Professor Kim,” he calls after you, making you wince. “I was wondering when your office hours were? I had some questions about how grad school works, and I wanted to get your thoughts.”

“Mondays and Fridays from 3-5,” you say. “Can you swing by later today?”

“Yes, thanks so much!” Jungkook cheers. 

You give him a little wave, and then you head to your class.

**

Tired from the weekend, and from your two morning classes, you enjoy a brief respite for lunch. You sit at your desk, with Yoongi and Hoseok working quietly nearby. None of you should be eating in the lab, but sometimes, that’s all you have time to do.

You hear a knock at the door, and you turn around to see Jin standing in the hall.

Yoongi whips around to see if you see him, and his eyes linger on you, keeping watch.

“Got a minute?” he asks.

“No,” you say.

Hoseok snorts.

Jin narrows his eyes at Hoseok, who turns back to his computer and resumes typing. 

“C’mon,” Jin tries. “Five minutes.”

“You just asked for one, and I said no. Now you want five?”

Jin furrows his brow, and you sigh. 

“OK, fine, hang on.”

You get up, and Hoseok and Yoongi watch protectively as you step into the hall and walk next door.

He waits for you to unlock the door to your office, but instead, you stand in the hallway, crossing your arms and leaning on the wall.

Jin shoves his hands into his pockets.

“We’ll need privacy for this conversation,” he says.

“So you decided to have it with me at work,” you point out.

Jin rolls his eyes. “I need you to come with me to the bank.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t close one of our joint accounts,” he says quietly. “They emptied it into our individual accounts, but technically, it’s still open.”

“What?”

“The email came through on Friday. I was actually surprised that you didn’t catch it first.”

“I was busy,” you sneer.

“Look, the bank just needs us both there to button up the paperwork.”

You frown. “You want me to skip the rest of the extremely short lunch break that I have to go to the bank with you?”

“Isn’t it better if we just get it over with?” he asks.

Something’s not right. You squint at him. “Your girlfriend doesn’t like that you have a joint account still open. That’s why you’re doing this now.”

Jin’s ears turn pink, and you throw your hands up in the air.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Please?” he asks. “If you think about it, this is technically it. This gets done, and you’ll never have to see me again, ever.”

“Promise?” you ask, angrily.

“Well, I mean, ouch, but, yeah,” Jin says.

You stomp back into your lab and snatch your purse from your desk. As you hang the strap on your shoulder, you ask Yoongi and Hoseok, “You two need anything while I’m out?” Your tone is noticeably softer and kinder with them.

“No, thanks though,” Yoongi says.

“All good,” HOseok echoes.

“If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I’ll be back in about an hour,” you say.

They nod, and you follow Jin out.

You walk to the faculty lot out of habit, but Jin starts to break from your path. You stop walking and looking over at him.

“I can drive,” Jin says.

“I’m parked right here,” you say.

When you were together, Jin always drove. It didn’t matter if it was for errands, or if you were driving cross-country. It didn’t feel like a control thing. Jin always considered it to be an act of service, like he’s explaining now.

“I know I’m asking a lot here,” he says. “The least I could do is drive.”

“I’ll meet you there,” you say coldly, as you head to your car.

You slam the door when you get inside, and you pull your phone out to enter the bank’s address into your GPS. You rarely go to the bank. Everything’s done online. Besides, going to the bank is not something you enjoy. 

You see a text notification from Namjoon that you just missed. It’s a picture of two sandwiches from the good stall at the student center, and a simple question mark.

A smile spreads across your face. But then it disappears as quickly as it came.

You start to write back, but you pause before you send your message. You need to let him know that you can’t meet him, but you aren’t sure if it’s a good idea or a bad idea to explain why. The thing that clinches it for you is what he told you about his ex. 

Transparency is always best.

You (1:26 PM): I can’t. I’m sorry. Jin stopped by. We have to correct some paperwork at our old bank. I’m meeting him there.

Your phone buzzes in your hands.

Kim Namjoon (1:26 PM): You have a sandwich waiting on your desk for when you get back. Hope it isn’t too painful.

Kim Namjoon (1:26 PM): The bank, I mean. Not the sandwich.

Kim Namjoon (1:27 PM): Call me tonight.

You laugh, and suddenly, this trip doesn’t seem like it’s going to be so bad.

You park right by the door so that you can run outside as soon as you’re done.

Jin catches up to you, only a couple of minutes behind.

You wait in the main room, making it a point to leave a seat between you when he sits down.

“Oh, come on,” Jin groans.

“Don’t,” you say, folding your arms and crossing your legs, swinging your foot  back and forth.

“Honey---”

You recoil at the sound, and he looks mortified.

“Sorry, I just… I didn’t m-mean to…”

Jin looks genuinely embarrassed, and hurt, and, well, sad.

You soften. “You can’t have thought that any of this was OK. That you and I were OK. You see how fucked up this is, right?” 

“The bank?”

“This summer,” you say. “Our divorce. Jin, I know it’s finalized, but it just happened. You and I aren’t going to just magically be friends again.”

“Why not?” he whimpers. “Didn’t we say that one of the reasons we did this was because maybe we’d be better off that way?”

“Yeah, maybe with time. But even then, I’m not so sure.” 

“Why not?”

You replay the events in your head. 

The reason why you boil over whenever Jin shows up to your office is not just because it’s him, or because it’s always unexpected, or because it’s always an interruption. The reason is because, up until the last couple of visits, the last time Jin showed up to your office was to serve you with divorce papers. He thought it would be convenient. You had been living separately for a month, with no real reason to see each other. Because you both worked at the university, giving them to you there made the most sense. And when you agreed to a divorce, you seemed so fine with it, which you were, and still are. But to see that chunk of papers in his hands, and his nonchalant look, in the center of your universe, was painful. You were aware of the wound, and you didn’t need Jin to help you heal it, but you certainly didn’t need Jin to throw salt into it either.

You shrug. “That hurt,” you say, simply. “Showing up at my office like that with the divorce papers. Like it was an errand. Telling me to go to the bank with you like it was just going to the bank. It stings. We got estimates for a house here.” You gesture to a door. “We sat in that office right there.”

That door opens, and a friendly-looking banker smiles at you. They wave you into their office. You get up and start walking toward them, with Jin slowly following.

The process seems simple. You don’t really pay that much attention. At some point, you hand over your ID. Sign some papers. Shake hands.

You walk through the front doors and to your car, and Jin calls out to you from behind.

He stares at you as he lets go of the door. It swings slowly back into place. You stand there, watching each other.

“You hurt me, too,” Jin says.

You sigh and reach for your door.

Jin holds up his hand and walks toward you. “What I mean is---”

You look up, and he stops in his tracks, just in front of the hood of your car.

“I mean… I’m hurting too.”

You pause.

And then you get in your car.

**

Jungkook grins at you as you approach your office.

“Oh, hi,” you say, remembering that your office hours are starting soon. 

“Is now still a good time?” he asks, as you unlock your office door.

“Sure, come on in,” you say. 

Jungkook follows you in. You set your purse down behind your desk, and Yoongi appears in the hallway. He taps on the door. 

“Hey Professor Kim, did you get a chance to eat? Professor Kim came by with an extra sandwich from his order while you were gone with Professor Kim,” Yoongi said. “We didn’t want it, but we thought you might.”

You try not to smile too big. You had forgotten about the sandwich.

“That’s nice,” you say. “I’ll take it. Thanks for thinking of me.”

Yoongi smiles and hands it to you.

“There are three Professor Kims?” Jungkook asks, confused.

Yoongi looks at him, smirking.

“This is Jeon Jungkook,” you say, gesturing to a shy Jungkook sitting in the chair across from your desk. “Jungkook, this is Yoongi, one of the grad students working in our lab.”

They exchange hellos.

“Wait, I think I’ve seen you around,” Yoongi says. “You look familiar.”

“Oh, well, I’m in Professor Kim’s… uh, I’m in the music and cognition class.”

“He’s a music major,” you explain.

“That’s it!” Yoongi says. “You’re that violinist!”

Jungkook blushes.

“You play the violin?” you ask.

“He doesn’t just play,” Yoongi says, waving his hand dismissively. “He’s first chair in the symphony. He’s been in studio recordings and stuff. Fantastic.”

Jungkook sinks in his seat.

“That’s impressive!” you say. “I played oboe up until college, and Yoongi’s a trained pianist. We take these matters seriously. Congrats on all of your success!”

Jungkook smiles, rising a little. “Oh. Um, thanks.”

“When’s your first performance?” you ask.

“We have a welcome back performance coming up in a couple of weeks,” he answers. “We’re performing The Planets.”

You grin. “I love that suite. A couple of weeks, you said?”

“Yeah. Not next Friday, but the next.”

“Hmm. I might have to check you out.” 

Jungkook’s eyes grow wide, and you laugh softly to yourself when you see him swallow the lump in his throat. You couldn’t resist.

You look over at Yoongi, who’s lost in thought. “The Planets. Gustav Holst,” you say. 

He shakes his head. 

“Go listen to the whole thing,” you tell him. “You’ll like it.”

Yoongi grins. “Cool. Well, I’ll leave you both to it.” He waves bye to Jungkook and heads back to the lab. Soon, you hear the opening movement of the suite, Mars, the Bringer of War, playing softly next door.

“Hear that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Kind of sick of hearing it at this point,” he laughs.

You smile. “I bet. Well, sorry about telling Yoongi to play it. But we can take your mind off of it by chatting about whatever it is that you’d like to learn about grad school.”

Jungkook nods and reaches into his backpack. Instead of pulling out notes, or books, or his laptop, he pulls out a bag of chips. He opens it and starts to eat. He looks at you, still holding your sandwich.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asks. “Is it cool if I eat, too? I haven’t had a chance to yet.”

“Oh, uh…” You are, after all, hungry. “Sure.”

You unwrap your sandwich, and Jungkook grins, directing the chip bag toward you.

You shake your head, but he pours some chips onto the unfolded paper wrapper on your desk.

“Sandwich?” you ask, offering him the other half.

He smiles and takes it. You remember what it was like, being a college kid. Zooming from class to class. Scarfing down chips for lunch because they’re all you can afford, or because it’s all you have time for. You realize that maybe it hasn’t changed so much now that you’re a professor. Maybe it’s not about age, or career. It’s just that you’re both on a college campus.

His questions are slightly muffled by the massive amounts of food in his mouth as he talks. “Well, to be honest, I majored in music, but I don’t know if I want that to be my career. I’ve been feeling burned out for a while now, but I also haven’t been curious about any other field until I accidentally took your class. I was wondering how big of a shift it would be if I started thinking about grad school.”

“Well, there are quite a few steps you’ll have to take,” you say. “You’ll have to get all the basic courses, and some advanced topics. You’ll need to get lab experience. And you’ll have to take a standardized entrance exam. But professors help you along the way.”

Jungkook nods. “I figure that I’m looking at another two years at least of meeting the basic requirements.”

“That’d be about right.”

“Is it common to go to the same school for both undergrad and grad?” he asks.

“You can do either,” you say. “There are a mix of experiences in our labs. There are pros and cons to both options.”

“What are those pros and cons?”

You take a moment to swallow your bite of food. “Pros include already knowing your labmates and professors, so you’ve hopefully got great relationships and support networks. Especially if there’s a professor you’d like to work with, and whose body of work is extensive and relevant to your goals. Cons can be losing out on experiencing in a new and different environment. Collaborating and working in other labs and with other researchers can help you grow immensely as a researcher.”

“What did you do?”

“Between undergrad, grad, and this professorship, I’ve been at three different schools. They each taught me something different. It was extremely challenging, and it pushed me to the brink several times. But looking back, I’m glad I pushed through, and I ended up really enjoying the ride in the end. It made me who I am today. And not just as a researcher.”

Jungkook nods. That last comment seemed to have helped him with something. It can be so confusing, sitting where Jungkook sits. At that stage, people are often coming to grips with what feels like are the final questions of locking one’s identity into place. You don’t want to overstep boundaries, so you quell the impulse to tell him that if that’s what he’s looking to do, then he should know that that particular process doesn’t stop with getting a degree. It only grows more complex with age.

“Do you have questions about funding?” you ask. “That’s usually the biggest question that students have.”

Jungkook turns slightly pink. “Oh, no, I, uh… I actually don’t have questions about that.”

You think you know what he means. He, his parents, or someone else in his family must be loaded.

“Well, then, the world’s your oyster,” you say, smiling.

You and Jungkook talk more about the process. You like having these kinds of conversations with students. Setting up the framework. Explaining what to expect. Sprinkling in words of wisdom. It’s the exciting part. An overture of what you’re going to see over the next few years. So many of your conversations have been about endings lately. It’s refreshing to have a conversation about possibilities. 

You think of Namjoon. What the possibilities with him might start to mean for you. 

And, actually, what he could do for Jungkook. 

“Have you talked about your interests with Professor Kim?” you ask.

Jungkook grins. “I thought I was.” He chuckles. “So confusing that there are three of you. A little Kim triangle.”

You smile uneasily.

“Not yet,” Jungkook goes on, “but it makes a lot of sense, given his expertise, and my previous experience. To be honest, I was a little nervous about how to bring it up with him. He’s kind of intimidating?”

You think of Namjoon again, fondly. “Nah, he’s not intimidating. It’s just the fluorescent lighting in this building,” you say. “Makes him look scarier than he is.” 

Jungkook laughs. Then, he sighs and stands. “Thanks for the conversation, Professor. I know I still have a lot to think through, in a good way, but talking it out with you helped me organize those thoughts.”

You smile and say, “If you have any other questions, feel free to stop by. Yoongi and Hoseok can also help answer questions, if you want to get a current grad student’s take on things.”

“Oh, definitely,” Jungkook says. “I’ll be around. It’ll be like you can’t get rid of me.”

As you watch him go, you can’t help but enjoy the aura he’s left behind. You feel like things are just a bit brighter.

**

By the time you get home, you feel like almost all of the joy has been zapped out of you. Jin’s unexpected presence really threw you for a loop, and you hate that he still has that effect on you, that uncanny ability to rile you up, for better or for worse. You wish you didn’t care. As you’re replaying that afternoon in your head, you realize that you did a better job sticking to your guns emotionally, rather than caving for the sake of collective harmony. 

But you wish you had enough of a backbone to say no to him right from the start.

You look at Namjoon’s text from earlier.

You can’t deny how strongly your heart flutters. 

You call him.

“How was the sandwich?” he asks, when he answers his phone.

You lie back on the couch and sigh. “Extremely delicious, and extremely needed. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He takes a breath. “How was… the rest of your day?” he asks tentatively.

You smile. “It was fine. It was a little rough, but you made it better.”

“The sandwich was that good?”

“The sandwich. The texts. The footsie under the table.”

“I wanted to do so much more. It was agonizing it was to see you and not jump you. I was dying. Your body. Those black heels.”

“You’re still not over them? You picked them out!”

“I know, but I didn’t know how shiny they were.”

You laugh, and he giggles.

“What about me?” he asks.

“What about you?”

“Didn’t you feel the same?” he asks, a little unsure now. “I asked you to pick out my shirt?”

You understand now, and you wish you were in the same room so that you could express yourself clearly. Boldly. Like he likes.

“To be honest, I don’t even remember what shirt I picked, or if you even went with it. I was just imagining you naked all day. After this weekend, it feels wrong to see you in clothes. Like a crime.”

He clears his throat, and you know it’s a good thing.

“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” he asks.

“I am if you are,” you say, grinning.

“Mmm. Wanna get into some trouble now?”

“What did you have in mind?” you purr, and as Namjoon’s deep, breathy voice starts painting a picture of him in his bed, you let the night wash over you, cleansing you, and making you feel renewed once again.

Chapter Text

You can’t believe that you’re actually staring into Namjoon’s eyes as he feeds you gelato using a miniscule chocolate spoon from the tiniest glass dish that you’ve ever seen. 

“Gross,” you laugh, looking around the restaurant, gelato nearly spilling out of your mouth. 

Namjoon makes a face. He takes a taste of his own.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “This is delicious!”

You can’t stop chuckling. You finally settle and swallow your dessert, dabbing your lips with your napkin. You set the napkin back on your lap.

“No, I mean, gross, look at everybody in here.” 

Namjoon looks around, and there are at least ten other couples of all walks of life doing the same exact thing you’re doing. 

You point to the tea lights on the table. “Ew.” You point to the tiny gelato bowl. “Why.” You take the spoon from Namjoon. “Today, someone froze chocolate in a miniscule mould and attached it to a toothpick to make a spoon for you to use to feed me. Where are we right now?”

Namjoon laughs heartily. “Are you not into this sort of thing?”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” you say, using the spoon to take another bite.

“Good. Because, for your information, this reservation is incredibly difficult to get,” Namjoon says playfully, looking away and up at the ceiling, waiting for you to fawn all over him at pulling this special surprise off.

Which you do. Sarcastically.

Even though he laughs along, you say, “I’m sorry.” You reign it in a little. “I’m really having a wonderful time. I’m so happy you invited me here -- I didn’t mean to make fun of it.”

He smiles at you, his eyes twinkling. He leans forward, arms crossed, forearms pressing on the table. “But I actually really like that about you. I like that you prefer a quiet love.”

You soften. You pause for a moment and take it all in. The soft, yellow glow around you. The quiet staccato of dishes against a hazy wall of murmured conversations. Neon reds, blues, whites, and greens just visible against the black of night outside. 

“For what it’s worth,” you say, “it’s been a long time since I’ve felt loved at all.”

He reaches for your hand on the table, and for a moment, you become the only two people in this restaurant. 

The openness that this restaurant allows you to have with your affection for one another is worth the one-hour drive that it takes to get there. You know that no one will find you there. It gives you the opportunity to do all the things that you wish you could do openly at the conference table in staff meetings. Hold hands. Kiss. Tell each other things about yourselves. Tell each other things that you’ve noticed about one another. Learn from each other.

On the drive back, you realize that’s what’s so different about this time around. He not only somehow inherently understands you at your core, but he actively tries to understand the parts of you that you’re still building. He asks you how you feel. He’s genuinely curious about what you think. And as he finds out more, the curiosity only seems to grow. 

You feel the same way. He’s endlessly interesting. He’s so much more introspective than you would have guessed. He challenges things, but not just for the sake of being challenging. He’s sensitive without being defensive. He sees life as neutral. Natural. Experiences that ebb and flow through people. Endless, but not meaningless. Usually, when you meet people like that, you find them too saccharine to believe they’re real. But with Namjoon, you are beginning to understand where they’re coming from. 

You smile at him, your belly full and your eyelids heavy. 

“Sleepy?” he asks, smiling back but keeping his eyes on the road.

“A little.”

“Take a nap. We’ve still got about forty minutes on our drive.”

“No, I wanna stay up.”

“It’s OK. I’ll put some music on to keep me awake.”

He takes his phone and starts a playlist. Classical music plays softly on the speakers.

“Is that Chopin?” you ask. “One of his nocturnes, right? E-flat major?”

Namjoon sighs happily. “Y’know, ironically, I’ve never dated someone who knew so much about music, and it’s quickly becoming an absolute must-have for me.”

You feel proud somehow. You’re not sure why. Winning him over like this, in little, meaningful bursts here and there, isn’t necessarily an accomplishment. At least not the kind of accomplishment that has driven you for most of your life. 

“I think the really ironic thing is more that you put a nocturne on to keep you awake.”

“We had a fancy night out, so I thought some fancy music would set a nice tone.”

You ogle him in his ocean blue cardigan for the hundredth time since he picked you up earlier that evening. You wonder how many times he’s stolen a glance at your matching blue mini and slingbacks.

“It does,” you say. “I like seeing this fancy side of you. We should do more of the fancy, sophisticated things that we never get to do.”

“Like the new gems exhibit at the natural science museum?” he asks excitedly.

You smile. “Absolutely!”

He does a little dance in his seat, and you secretly squee at how thrilled he is. 

“That reminds me,” you say, waking up a little and sitting up in your seat, “Jungkook mentioned that the symphony orchestra will be holding their first concert this week. Would you want to go?” 

“Definitely.” He chuckles. “That kid can really play.”

“Yoongi told me. He raved about him. I’m excited to see.”

Namjoon looks over to you and smirks. “But if the concert is on Friday, does that violate our date night rules?”

You roll your eyes. You’ve been the stickler for the rules you’ve both set. No one can know. Dates only on weekends. 

“Friday counts as the weekend. But we’ve been pushing it with trivia night,” you playfully warn.

And Namjoon knows it. He’s the real culprit. He hasn’t been able to keep himself from looking back at your table for almost the entire duration of every game you’ve played since that first one. He stared at you on your victory lap when your team won, and he focused only on you during his victory lap when his team won. 

You’ve tried to add rules to trivia night so that you don’t give yourselves away. Now, whoever wins gets to go home first. Whoever loses spends some additional time with the grad students before driving over to the winner’s house to spend the night there. Leaving separately helps you maintain appearances. But reconnecting at the end of the night is always your favorite part. You and Namjoon like prepping your overnight bags on Thursday mornings. You even call or message each other while you’re doing it. It’s kind of fun, not knowing where the night will take you.

You get to your house, and Namjoon lingers in the driver’s seat when you hop out.

“Are you not coming in?” you ask, furrowing your brow.

Namjoon smiles. “If Friday nights count as the weekend, then do Sunday nights still count?”

You sigh and reach into the car for his arm, tugging on it so that he’ll join you.

“OK, OK,” he laughs, turning the car off and getting out.

He wraps his arm around your waist as you walk up the steps to your porch. He places a kiss on your cheek as you open your clutch and unlock your door. You head inside, and you start to make some coffee. It’s an odd thing that you share. You both drank so much coffee in grad school, especially during late nights working on your dissertations, and now, working on your publications, that you can’t sleep without having it before bed. 

You join Namjoon on the couch, setting your mugs on the table and turning on the TV. You snuggle into one another and watch until you really start to get sleepy. 

Namjoon presses a kiss onto the top of your head and whispers, “Bedtime?”

You nod, and before you can move to get up, he carries you in his arms. He wraps your legs around his waist and cradles the back of your head, laying it on his shoulder. You rest your lips against his neck as he brings you to your room. And then he gently lays you down on the mattress.

You close your eyes and snuggle into the covers, and he whispers, “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“Spend the night,” you whine.

You’re so sleepy that you miss the way he’s beaming at you. And you miss the reason why. In the few weeks that you’ve been dating, you haven’t just slept over at each other’s houses. Sure, you’ve fucked and passed out together, and you’re anticipating doing just at the end of this week. But this is a different kind of intimacy. In the midst of all the rules you’ve been setting for yourself, it has been hard for him to gauge where you’re at. The way you’re blindly reaching out for him is telling him everything that he’s felt so far, you feel too.

When you don’t feel him, you open your eyes and you catch a glimpse of his smile before it disappears from sight, blocked by him stripping off the shirt that was inside of his cardigan. He takes off his pants, folds all of his clothes neatly, and sets them on your dresser. 

He walks back over to you and sits on your side of the bed, facing you. He motions for you to sit up. You do, and he holds you by the waist. He hugs you to him, lifting you slightly so that he can raise your skirt above your hips. You hold your arms above your head, and he smiles softly as he tugs the fabric upwards, pulling your dress off of you. You lie back down, and he runs his hands down your body, over your bra and panties, down your legs, to your shoes. He raises your leg and kisses your ankle as he slips off one slingback, and he does the same with your other one.

When he climbs into bed next to you, you finally smile. You nestle into him, and he kisses you deeply as he pulls you close, both of you drifting off to a peaceful, full slumber.

**

So many things make you think of Namjoon now. The smell of mint from Yoongi’s gum makes you think of Namjoon’s toothpaste. A sniff of sweaty jocks running past you on campus makes you think of Namjoon working out. Whenever a waft of someone’s cologne hits you in the halls, you think of Namjoon spritzing his scent on in the mornings. He even keeps an extra bottle at your place now. You haven’t told him, but on the nights he’s not there, you spritz a little on your pillow.

You think about this as you look up at your class.

“What’s your favorite smell?” you ask.

Your class stares at you, confused.

“Indulge me,” you say, smiling at them. You catch sight of a student in the front row. “C’mon. What’s your favorite smell?”

They shrug. “Uh… I like the smell of bread baking?”

The class murmurs their agreement.

“What do you like about it?” you ask.

“My mom bakes a lot. I guess that’s why.”

You smile. “Aw, that’s really sweet. Thank you for sharing! Who else wants to share?”

A couple of other students volunteer their answers. The smell of motor oil makes them think of their brother, who loves restoring old cars. The smell of lavender makes them think of their grandmother, who used lavender soap to do laundry. The smell of lemons makes them think of their first kiss with their kindergarten crush while they were working at a lemonade stand. 

You grin and click to the next slide, which recaps where you are in your class’s understanding of cognitive phenomena as it relates to particular areas of the brain. “Now, given that we’ve been talking about how structure contributes to function, what might you observe from this little bit of data that we’ve collected?”

A student raises their hand. “Smells seem to relate to memories, so there must be some sort of connection between those networks.”

“Nice!” you cheer. “Can anyone expand on that? What areas specifically, do we think?”

“Medial temporal lobe,” one student answers.

“Great! Where?”

“Hippocampus?” another student ventures.

You stand back, proud of your students. “Amazing. You all have really been doing your homework!”

The class murmurs excitedly.

“Now, what else might be able to tease out of that data collection?” you ask, challenging them a little.

The class breaks into little discussion groups amongst friends, and others start flipping through their textbooks.

“Think about the nature of the memories,” you hint.

A student who has never spoken in class before raises their hand. “They’re particularly strong memories.” They look over at the student who brought up the lemonade stand, who is sitting just to their left. “Could you remember what that day was like?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” the lemonade stand student answers. “I remember almost everything. It was a super hot day, very sunny, and we sold a ton of cups for 5 cents a pop. Our parents used to hang out at this park, so we set up shop using this upside down cardboard box. We made the lemonade the night before and then hauled it there, pouring it into little plastic cups. It seems silly and cute now, but I remember taking it so seriously. Whenever either of us left the box to go to the bathroom or because our parents were calling us, we’d pretend to open and close our shop door. And before we left for the day, we were counting the money we made, and we were so excited that we kissed each other. It’s a really fond memory for me.”

The class coos, though some students snicker at the schmaltz.

The quiet student smiles. “Aw, that’s really cute. And you remembered so much. There was emotion there. Seriousness. Happiness. Fondness.” They look at you. “So might the amygdala also be connected?”

You smile.

“Well. Seems like you don’t need me at all!”

Another student raises their hand.

“Yes?” you ask.

“We do, though,” they say. “We don’t know what the actual connections between those areas are yet.”

Your class laughs, and you’re just so thrilled. You click to the next slide to go on with your explanation of the olfactory bulb and the primary olfactory cortex projections to the hippocampus and amygdala. You’re floating in the air as you speak. These are the moments that make all of the stress worth it. These moments when your students are actually passionate about what you are learning, and they spend their time not only broadening their bases of knowledge, but also fostering conversations and connections of their own. In a world of publications and impact factors and performance reviews, so few people talk about these aspects as success metrics. But those moments are what tell you that you’re on the right track as a professor. 

You walk back to your lab and share the story with Hoseok and Yoongi. 

“Wow,” Hoseok says wistfully. “I wish my lectures were like that. Today, one of the students asked me if after I get my PhD, I’ll be able to read minds. I’m like, how did they get into this senior seminar?”

You both look over at Yoongi, who’s just sitting in front of his computer, biting his nails.

You shoot a questioning look at Hoseok.

Hoseok looks back at you sadly. He nods.

You look over to the door, and Hoseok gives you the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Yoongi’s been looking more and more gaunt. More and more like he did the time that he was curled up into a ball under his desk, anxiety gripping his chest and vocal cords so tightly that he couldn’t explain what he was feeling. You learned a lot about Yoongi during that time. You learned that his family lived very far away. You learned that when he gets nervous, he bites his nails, as well as the inside of his cheek. And you learned that Yoongi had been having some negative thoughts about himself. Thoughts that drove him to various forms of self-harm, including attempts at truly ending it all. 

You had some of those same experiences as a grad student. Though you were lucky enough to experience them to a much lesser degree, you still knew that what helped most was just having someone physically present. Someone patient. Someone willing to just be there. Devoting one’s life to research is so isolating. All of that isolation can create a dysmorphic self-identity. When you’re in that kind of lonely space, you just don’t have other people around you to check the negative voices in your head.

When you brought this to Si-hyuk, you were glad that he met you with empathy. He encouraged you to work with Yoongi to figure things out. So, you and Jin let him stay with you for a while, and you spent some time figuring out a plan. It involved time off, counseling, and as needed, medication. When Yoongi admitted that he wouldn’t be able to pay for any of it, you told him not to worry about that. You couldn’t help but cry with him when the tears started to tumble down his cheeks. 

 “Yoongi,” you say, snapping him out of whatever trance he’s in. 

He looks at you, his eyes wide. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you OK?” you ask.

“Sure,” Yoongi says, nodding. “Sorry, I just was kinda lost in thought. Why do you ask?”

“You’re biting your nails again,” you point out.

Yoongi looks down at his fingers and sees that he’s bitten so much that he’s starting to draw blood.

He shrinks and looks at his hand. “Damn.” His eyes find yours. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to ask the questions,” you prime him. “Is that alright?”

He nods. “Yeah, that might be a good thing to do.”

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been cutting again?”

“No.”

There are no new marks on his arms, which he shows you. But you know from the research, and from what Yoongi told you about his group therapy sessions, that there are other places on the body where they could be. You believe Yoongi, though. He’s told you before when he’s ventured to those places. 

“Any thoughts of suicide?”

“No.”

Yoongi’s thoughts gravitate toward more passive methods. Pills. Poison. Pipes leading from the tail of his car into his just-cracked window. He’s only really tried the first one, after the twelfth grad school rejection letter. But that was before you knew him. Luckily, he recovered fully. He told you during his stay with you and Jin that it was your acceptance letter that got him through.

“Have you been keeping up with your thought stopping techniques?”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah, and progressive muscle relaxation has been helping, too. But I haven’t done my habit reversal journal entries for a couple of weeks.”

“Is there anything that I can do to help?” you ask.

“Not now, but thank you for bringing my attention to it,” he says, writing a note to himself on his phone. “I’m going to bring it up in therapy tomorrow.”

“Good.” 

You watch him finish the note to himself and then set his phone down. He looks at his computer and sighs, his fingers hovering by his mouth, but no longer being bitten.

“So, what’s triggering it? Is it the semester? Your workload?” You ask to make sure, but you’re pretty sure what Yoongi is going to say.

“Dissertation,” Yoongi admits. “My data don’t make sense, so I’m re-running my analyses before I check my raw data. If I do end up needing to start the analysis over again, I’ll have lost four days. And that’s the best-case scenario.”

In the grand scheme of things, four days isn’t much to people. But for Yoongi and the other grad students, four days might be the difference between a successful dissertation defense and a missed graduation. Not to mention the real threat that Yoongi is hinting at. If he checks his raw data and discovers that something has gone wrong with the data collection, he’ll have to start that phase of the project all over again, redoing months of work.

“There’s no timeline,” you remind him. “We make mistakes, but they’re not faults.”

Yoongi nods. The last line is one that you say to each other like a mantra.

“If you want to talk about it, we can,” you add. “Bring me in if you need extra hands. Hoseok, too.”

“OK, yeah. That sounds good,” he says. “I’ll definitely take you up on it.” He smiles. “I know I tend to pull away when I feel like this. Thanks for checking in.”

You’re so proud of Yoongi, and you’ve never figured out how to express it. When you say the words, he cringes and mumbles uncomfortable thank-yous. When you try to celebrate his wins, he, well, cringes and mumbles uncomfortable thank-yous. For now, it seems enough to share a reassuring grin.

**

Pub trivia night on Thursday has become a lab tradition again. You haven’t missed the last few games, and your rivalry with Namjoon and his lab has generated lots of buzz on campus. People are actually coming to watch you play, and you’re up by one game. 

The thing you treasure most about this week’s trivia night, though, is the fun that Yoongi seems to be having. He’s had the answers to a ton of questions, and with this last basketball question, he feels like he’s on top of the world.

“Zero championship rings,” Yoongi whispers. 

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asks, looking at the card. “We’re down to the last question after this.”

“Charles Barkley is famous for never having gotten a championship ring,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly. “It’s a shame, but people hilariously clown him all the time about it.”

“Besides, Yoongi has his confident face on. Can’t argue with that certainty,” you remark, making them both grin. “I say we go with it.”

Hoseok slides the answer card across the table, and Yoongi confidently writes zero on the blank line before turning it in.

The song that the quizmaster has been playing ends. “Alright, most people got this question correct: Charles Barkley has zero championship rings!”

Hoseok and Yoongi high-five.

You feel Namjoon’s gaze on you. You look up, and he smirks. You shake your head and look back down at the table. It’s taking every muscle in your body to keep from jumping up and barrelling into him with kisses.

“No surprise here! The Neuromantics and Synapse, Crackle, Pop, are tied again for first heading into the final question,” the quizmaster summarizes, “but new contenders Gee Quiz and Yeah, Well, Y’know, That’s Just Like, Uh, Your Opinion, Man are close behind in a tight race for third place! 

Namjoon raises a beer bottle at you, and you do the same. You eye each other, and a flash of lightning runs under your skin.

When you have a blowout lead like this, your teams have started agreeing on betting one point. You’ve all realized that you really shouldn’t gamble everything you accumulate over the course of the game. You can still get recognition and some awards or free food for second place, especially now that you’ve become somewhat of a show.

The quizmaster smiles. “So, the topic for the last question, for all the marbles, is Culture. And that last question is: Sahti is a type of beer that’s traditionally flavored with juniper. Which country would you be most likely to find it in?”

Yoongi furrows his brow. 

“I feel like it’s a Nordic country. I wanna say… Iceland?”

“How confident are you?” Hoseok asks. 

“Not very,” Yoongi admits.

“Well, at least we have a guess. I’m completely stumped,” you say. You write Iceland on the blank of the last answer card, and you bring it to the quizmaster.

Namjoon almost reaches out for your thigh when you walk past him. You see his hand twitch just slightly, but you know that’s what he’s thinking. Because you’re thinking it too. You bend over at the table to thank the quizmaster for a fun evening. You can feel Namjoon’s eyes dilate and follow the curve of your hips and ass. You hide your smirk when you turn back around and walk back over to Hoseok and Yoongi.

You feel your phone buzz in your purse, sitting just next to your thigh. You pull out your phone and read the text.

Kim Namjoon (9:12 PM): When you leaned over like that? Knowing full well that I couldn’t do anything about it? That blow was below the belt.

You hide your smile.

You (9:13 PM): That’s where I like to blow.

Kim Namjoon (9:13 PM): God, I don’t even care who wins at this point. I just want this game to be over already.

“We’ve got a clear winner tonight, folks!” the quizmaster exclaims. “Both of our top teams were right that the answer is a Nordic country. But our winner tonight is…”

A hush falls over the crowd.

“Synapse, Crackle, and Pop wins! The correct answer is Finland!” 

Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung get up to claim their prize, and Namjoon claps in your table’s direction, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows. Your group applauds them. Yoongi and Hoseok look a little disappointed, but they seem like they had a good time. The night’s just getting started for them, anyway. Each game ends with the two teams sharing their gift cards for drinks at the end of the night. Eventually, you all stuff yourselves into Namjoon’s team booth. Namjoon takes his leave, and you hang around for a few more minutes.

“Great game, guys,” you say.

“It was so close,” Jimin says. “It’s a thrill right up until the very end. I mean, look at all these people.”

You look around the pub and can’t believe how big the audience has grown from the already uncharacteristic number at the beginning of the evening. 

“I do love a thrill,” you say, smiling, not realizing that this comment is the perfect fodder for Jimin to pull his lips into a smile and exchange suggestive glances with Taehyung, who just gulps. You’ll never believe anyone or anything that claims that you’re a hot professor, but it’s a little bit of a confidence booster to see people react this way.

As you finish your pan across the room, your eyes settle on someone familiar.

Yoongi looks at you nervously. He’d seen Jin and his new girlfriend walk in earlier, but he didn’t want to tell you. He wasn’t sure how, and he wasn’t sure if it would ruin your night if he did. Yoongi knows you extremely well.

You smile graciously to set Yoongi at ease, but you feel like your insides are coated in acid. 

Jin’s new girlfriend is definitely prettier than you are. No surprise there. After all, Jin looks the way he does. But she also seems nice. Pleasant. She has a warmth about her that you can pick up even from all the way over there. She’s short. Delicate. Jin probably feels like a great, big protector when he’s around her. But she also seems smart. Jin did say that they met at a book signing. She and Jin are having full conversational exchanges, and it’s hard to get a word in edgewise with him. You of all people would know. And you of all people would be able to size a person up like this, solely according to Jin’s needs and wants. You’re the expert, not just because you set and met those expectations before, but also because you know how to fail miserably at them.

Jin’s eyes lock onto yours, and you feel stupid for watching them as long as you have. He leans over to his girlfriend, and gestures over to your booth. They pick up their drinks, get up, and head your way.

“Ugh,” Hoseok mutters, shooting Yoongi a look.

“Congratulations,” Jin says, waving at everyone. “You all were always so good at this game. But tonight? That was particularly exciting to watch.”

The group mumbles some thank-yous. Jimin and Taehyung are mumbling out of confusion and shyness. Yoongi and Hoseok are mumbling out of annoyance.

“Honestly, all the back and forth between you and Namjoon, it was scintillating,” Jin says, his eyes and voice razor-sharp when they hit you.

“Thanks,” you say, deciding to avoid any tension right away.

You and Jin lock eyes again.

He feels a little unbridled tonight, and you catch a glimpse of his empty glass. 

Still, you know what’s coming.

As dangerous as he feels, he genuinely tries to make it as soft of a landing as he can. Even while drunk, he knows that he owes you at least that much.

“This is Kyong,” Jin introduces.

Kyong . It drops from his mouth and crashes heavy on your gut. No matter how hard Jin tried to share this information, it hurts, and it doesn’t stop falling. Like it’s pulling everything down with it. Like you’re all sinking in quicksand, and you have no idea where the bottom truly is.

“Taehyung,” can’t spill out of Taehyung’s mouth fast enough, and he leaps over Jimin and Yoongi to shake her hand.

You unfairly feel like Taehyung has betrayed you a little bit.

Kyong smiles, and you agree that if you were Jin, it would have been a very hard thing to try to ignore. She greets everyone else with a polite wave, and then her eyes settle on you.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says knowingly.

“You, too,” you say. Compared to her tone, you sound brittle. And cold.

“Well, we were just on our way out and wanted to say goodnight,” Jin says, his voice still weirdly antagonistic. He wraps his arm around Kyong’s waist and looks around eagerly. “Where’s Namjoon?”

Kyong winces slightly at Jin’s overzealousness, and you’re sorry to say that it makes you feel a little better to be a seed of doubt to her as much as she is for you.

“He already left. Maybe you can chase him down outside,” Hoseok says pointedly, looking at Jin. Yoongi’s staring at the table and fidgeting with a napkin, his mouth plastered into a disapproving frown. You work hard to stifle the fond laugh that you have for both of them. 

“Oh,” Jin says, looking back at you. He narrows his eyes. “Well, tell him hi from me when you see him next. Probably soon, right?”

You fight the crease in your brow. You don’t want to look upset. You don’t want to give anything away. But you’re also thinking, what the fuck did he mean by that?

“Sure. Bye now, Professor,” Yoongi insists, and Jin smirks at him. He and Kyong wave again, and they head out the front door. 

You put on the best smile that you can form right now and look at the group. “I think I’ll turn in for the night, too.”

Everyone says their goodnights, and you thank them again for a great time. As you walk to your car, you know that Yoongi and Hoseok are going to fill Jimin and Taehyung with all the necessary context. You wonder what they say to people when they’re prompted for the details. It’s an interesting thing, having other people tell your story.

In fact, you wonder what Jin has told Kyong about your relationship. Did he tell her about how you met as table buddies during new faculty orientation? Did he tell her about how your first date was at a movie theater? Did he tell her about how you were there for each other early on in your relationship, when his grandfather was in a coma, and when your mother had a brain tumor scare? Did he tell her about the fun, good stuff just as much as the scary, hard stuff?

You also wonder what Jin has told Kyong about you, as a person. Has he told her about how encouraging and supportive you are? Has he told her how he saw that morph into overbearing expectation? Has he told her how that clashes with his more present and in-the-moment attitude to life?

And you wonder how Jin tells it all. Is he matter-of-fact? Is he kind? Is he cruel? He can be so cruel. And he often does it without knowing it. But it hurts worse when he aims his words like daggers. 

He has great aim. 

You wonder if she’s seen that side of him for herself. The side that snaps when pushed. The side that holds things against you. Like how he held your first date at the movie theater against you: he maintains that you probably sabotaged the date by picking a movie because you didn’t want to talk to him. Or how he is still suspicious of your visits to the hospital to see his grandfather: he’s claimed that you were acting so generously to make it impossible for him to ever criticize or be angry with you. 

Does he come at it from an experiential standpoint? Does she only see the parts where he was hurting? Does she know about the things that he has done to hurt you, too? Does she know that when he gets insecure, he dangles what he could have had instead in front of you to make you aware of what a privilege it is to be with him? Does she know that his congratulations on your publications sound so condescending until he gets another book deal, and suddenly, publications are all he’ll want to talk about? Does she know that in the middle of the night, when you’re lying naked together and at your softest for him, and you think this is the closest you’ll ever get to a perfect love, he can whisper a backhanded compliment about the leisurely way you’ve just fucked him that will make it harder for you to find any joy in fucking him the next time, and the time after that, and the time after that?

Before you know it, you’re parked outside of Namjoon’s house. And you’re seething.

You clamber up the steps, and Namjoon throws open the door.

“I heard your car pull up,” he says, smiling. “It’s nice to see you parked in my driveway.”

You collide with him, pushing him into his living room and fiercely mashing your mouth into his.

“Damn, I should really win trivia more often,” Namjoon laughs, wrapping his arms around you and deepening your kiss.

You claw at his clothes, and he can’t stop chuckling.

“This isn’t funny,” you insist. 

He looks at you seriously and places his hands on your shoulders. “No, of course, I just meant that---”

“It’s fine, forget about it,” you say, throwing your purse onto the couch and undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants. “Let’s just have some fun.”

“Are you OK or---”

You drop to your knees and pull his pants down. You take him into your mouth, and he gasps and moans at how you’re moving, licking, sucking, and grabbing onto him, as if the only thing that will quench your insane hunger is to have his length lodged so far down your throat that it’s basically in your stomach.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, but then you feel his grip relax.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he whispers breathlessly, somewhat regretfully pulling himself out of you and pulling you up by your shoulders.

“What?” you huff, narrowing your eyes.

“Look,” Namjoon says gently, rubbing your arms, “that felt incredibly, unbelievably good, so good that I’m questioning why I stopped you, and that I feel dumb for asking what I’m about to ask, but… y’know… can we… slow it down? Can we be here… together?”

You blink, and your anger dissipates just enough that you start to notice more of the room. Namjoon turned all the lights out, but he lit so many candles. He put on a record, and there’s music playing. A soulful ballad. One of your all-time favorites.

Of all the things Namjoon thought he was going to feel silly about, it certainly wasn’t stopping his cock-ravenous girlfriend and pulling his pants back up, made that much more awkward now that you’ve given him a fierce erection. His uncomfortable expression tells you as much.

You soften. “I’m so sorry,” you say, finally cooling down.

“Where were you just now?” he asks, amazed.

“I just… I was just stressed,” you say, not wanting to let Jin ruin this evening any further.

“I know,” Namjoon says. “I am, too. But I thought we said we wouldn’t let work get in the middle of this.”

Technically, you aren’t. 

So you nod and curl into his embrace, feeling him rest against your thigh.

“I just wanted you so badly,” you whimper, running your hand along him gently, biting your lip and looking up at him. 

His forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes close at your touch. “That feels good.” He opens his eyes and looks into yours. “I wanted you, too. I couldn’t wait much longer.” 

“That text,” you smirk, rubbing hum with a little more pressure now.

He kisses your forehead and rests his chin on your head, breathing in the scent of your hair.

“I heard you say it in my ear when I read what you wrote. Fuck, you do some crazy shit to me,” he mumbles, pulling you into him and running his hands up and down your body. You both stand there, nestling into each other’s embrace and feeling each other with your fingertips. “I almost asked if you wanted to give up on the pretense and just leave with me.”

“I should have left with you,” you admit, but it’s the furthest you’ll let yourself go with explaining how you feel.

“Or we could have just fucked in the bathroom,” he smiles.

“Or one of our cars.”

“Or in my office.”

You smirk. “Or in mine.”

As you slide your hand across the fabric of his pants, fingers tracing up and down his shaft, putting even pressure as you drag your hand back to his base, he places his finger under your chin and brings it to his lips. 

He parts your mouth with his tongue, and he kisses you so wantonly that everything else melts away. You forget where you are. You forget how you got there. You let go of before. You aren’t concerned about after. 

You only have enough brain power to process the information as it comes to you through your senses.

Silky satin. He changed his bedsheets. He’s moved you into the bedroom.

You feel the satiny texture on your back, your upper arms, and the backs of your legs. He’s laid you down on his mattress.

You feel it on your skin, so he’s stripped you of your clothes.

Goosebumps down your thigh. First, you’re warm and tickly, and then cool. There’s almost a little breeze. He’s licking down your leg and blowing air down the trail.

A pressure release around your ankle. He’s slipped off one of your shoes. You compare the naked sensation to the one you’re getting from the foot that still has the other shoe on. You feel something hovering over the line of your middle toe, all the way up to where your foot meets your shin. You must have worn your yellow T-straps today.

Something soft, and moist, but with form. A little bit of tightness as it moves. He’s sucking on your toes as he undoes your other shoe. And it’s making you heat up, and squirm. He’s going so slowly. You wonder why he’s going so slowly, but you also don’t want him to change a thing.

He does the same with your other foot. You grip the sheets and pull them up to run luxuriously over your bare breasts, and it’s everything you wanted. 

You run a part of the fabric that was underneath you moments ago. It dances across your stomach. 

You notice that it’s wet. 

Namjoon hasn’t touched anything except your feet, and you’re already wet.

Pressure around your thighs. Namjoon’s gripping them and spreading them apart.

Loud, messy slurps, like someone can’t get enough. Paired with indescribable ecstasy. Namjoon’s buried himself inside of you, and he’s tasting every single fold as you open up for him. He’s there for either thirty seconds or thirty years. Either way, it feels divine.

“Pretty,” he whispers, his fingers taking you between them as he explores you.

“No, I want you now,” you pant, shivering as you reach out for him.

“C’mon, feel it with me,” he teases, ignoring your plea and sticking his middle finger inside of you.

You arch back and whine. It’s perfect but still somehow not enough.

You clench down tight around him, so tight that he has to wiggle his wrist to dig into you. “Fuck,” he whispers, his eyes wide, mouth drooling in anticipation.

“Please, I need it,” you beg, tears pricking at the inner corners of your eyes.

Namjoon ignores you and starts licking your swollen clit, still sliding his finger inside of you, holding you down with his forearm so that your thighs don’t shut around him like a Venus flytrap. 

You cry out, but you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t even think they’re words. 

You need him to fill you up. You need to feel him stretching you out from the inside. You need to feel him painting the inside of you with everything that he’s had inside of him since that dangerous look that he gave you at the pub. 

Your heart is already racing so fast that when he finally enters you, you think that you might die of a heart attack. Your heart feels like a hummingbird, vibrating more than pumping, threatening to stop completely if Namjoon slows things down one more time.

He falls on top of you and shifts from slamming into you with his hips, to rolling his body over you, getting deeper and deeper with each stroke.

You strain your neck to meet him, kissing him and wrapping your arms and legs around him. He whimpers and starts to grab mounds of your flesh, leaving little red nail marks on your hips and shoulders. You’re already scratching up and down his back, and he bites his lip and moans whenever he hits a stroke good enough to make you pull at his hair.

He kisses your neck, moving his head from side to side as he pumps into you again, and when he starts another session at an unrelenting pace, you start to feel something crumbling inside of you. Every muscle that is tense is starting to get the message to relax. It’s almost time to give way completely.

“Fuck, Joon,” you warn, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Come for me,” he says, his eyes flashing open. “I wanna see you. Let me see you.”

“Baby,” you drawl, the moan hitting Namjoon’s ears and sending shivers down his spine.

The shivers send him into overdrive, sparking something within him that surges energy into his veins. He uses his body weight to press you into the mattress, and he raises his head to the ceiling to gasp for air as he pounds into you harder than he ever has before.

He looks down at you.

“Open your eyes,” he tells you.

You do, and he sucks in another breath through his teeth and bites his teeth as he looks deeply into your eyes.

He feels your pelvic walls starting to give, and then he moves his hands to your breasts, groping them with his huge, strong hands.

You cry out again, and for as disoriented as you were when Namjoon first took you in his arms that night, you’re a million more times disoriented now. You don’t know who you are. You don’t know when it is. All you know is that everything good, and light, and sweet, and rapturous, is spilling out of you, and then spilling into you, spilling all over you, filling your body, filling the room, filling the seemingly unreachable spaces that you thought would remain ignored forever, those parts of you like stone-sized holes in window panes of abandoned houses. 

Tears flow from your eyes.

Namjoon kisses them away.

“Too rough?” he asks, as he comes down from his own high.

“No,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lies on top of you. “It was perfect.”

He kisses your chest, and you both wait until your breaths steady before climbing into bed together. Namjoon reaches over for the duvet that he folded back.

“These sheets,” you say sleepily, running your hands over the pillowcase under your head. “So soft.”

Namjoon smiles.

“And the song,” you say.

He kisses your cheek and snuggles next to you.

“And all those candles,” you sigh. 

“Shit, the candles!” Namjoon says, sitting up. “Goddammit. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

He scampers out of the bed and runs into the living room, quickly blowing them all out. You laugh to yourself softly, turning on your side and smiling when he climbs back in beside you, peppering your shoulder, neck, and cheek with kisses. He buries himself in your hair and holds you close.

“So, you liked it?” he asks, in a whisper.

“It was really romantic,” you sigh. “You really didn’t have to do all that.”

“It was just a small surprise,” he says, sleep starting to take over. “Besides. It’s a classic boyfriend move, isn’t it?”

Your eyes pop open.

And a smile spreads across your face.

**

Yoongi stares at you while you double-check his work.

“You’re right,” you tell him. “You haven’t missed a step or made any mistakes. This is a new finding.”

You pull out your phone and email a couple of bookmarked articles to Yoongi. 

“Take a look at this lab’s work. They’ve been identifying left perirhinal cortex activity in their newest line of research. Very curious, but if these trends hold, it’ll be pretty interesting for your dissertation!”

Yoongi hasn’t really absorbed the encouragement you’re giving him. He’s just frowning at you.

“Are you OK?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Something’s weird about you today,” he says, scowling as he tries to figure it out.

You blush. “No, nothing’s weird.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not.”

“Your voice is all high-pitched.”

“Compared to yours?”

“Well, you’re kind of squeaking.”

You sigh and go back to your desk to hide your face. You’re a terrible liar, especially with people who know you really well. You’re starting to sweat.

Yoongi spins around in his chair. “I’m sorry, are you upset that I’m calling you on it? Because some people would actually consider that to be a caring response.”

“And I appreciate that. But I’m telling you that I’m perfectly fine.”

You don’t tell him that your heart is jack-hammering in your chest, or that your brain is on fire, trying to come up with some kind of excuse to explain why you’re acting weird, which is making you act even weirder.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Look. I’m just gonna say it. We saw Professor Kim last night. There’s no way that was just nothing for you.” 

You relax a little. You were more worried that Yoongi has begun to pick up on you and Namjoon, so you’re relieved that he isn’t calling that out now. But you are still annoyed that you had to see Jin and Kyong at the pub. You use Yoongi’s conclusion as a way to channel your excitement about Namjoon.  

“Yeah, well, Yoongi… that’s life sometimes.”

Yoongi looks back at the door to your lab. It’s only slightly ajar. He doesn’t want to make what he’s about to say a bigger point than it needs to be, so he doesn’t make a show of getting up to close the door. But he knows this is private information. It doesn’t sound like anyone’s in the hall anyway, but he still speaks quietly anyway.

“You opened your home to me when I had completely forgotten what home was,” Yoongi says. “You’ve seen me at my absolute worst. You can talk to me about this stuff if you need to. We’re there.”

Your lips pull into a tight grin. You decide to give a little. Just to let Yoongi know you’re OK. The way you would hope he would do for you.

“Was it hard to see them? Yes, absolutely,” you admit. “But I’ve got other things in my life. Good things. Things that are balancing that out.”

You can’t help but turn your tight grin into a dreamy smile, thinking of Namjoon and the words he’s been using lately. A quiet “love”. Classic “boyfriend” move.

Yoongi smiles. “So that’s it.”

“What?” you ask, turning even redder.

“You’re seeing someone.”

Your eyes widen. “I didn’t say that---”

Hoseok opens the door, carrying a huge stack of papers.

“Next semester, remind me to get a jump start on setting up the online portals,” Hoseok complains. 

Yoongi shoots you a smirk, letting you know he’s not asking questions. But then he jumps up to help him set the papers on Hoseok's desk. They land with a heavy boom! that resonates in the desk’s metal frame, its legs buzzing against the tile floor.

Hoseok sighs, panting from carrying the heavy load all the way up from his classroom on the first floor.

“Exams?” you ask.

“No, just essays,” Hoseok says. “I’ve got so much grading to do. I let it all pile up.” He turns to Yoongi. “Do you think you could help me get these graded by tonight so that I can get students their grades before their exam next week? I’ll buy you dinner!”

“Sure, no problem,” Yoongi says. 

“Sweet,” Hoseok says, extremely grateful. “You didn’t have any major plans, did you?”

“I was going to see Jungkook at the symphony concert tonight,” Yoongi says, which makes your breath catch in your chest for a moment. But then he says, “I don’t mind skipping it. I’ll just see their winter concert instead. I mean, who says no to a free dinner?”

**

You’re thinking the same thing as Namjoon pulls out his wallet.

“Let this be my treat,” you say quietly, smiling at him.

He grins at you. “What?”

You smile at the small leather bill holder that your waiter has just set on the table. You pull out your wallet from your purse and slip your card inside.

“Really?” Namjoon asks.

You nod. “C’mon. It’s not fair that you get to do all the romancing,” you say, winking.

Namjoon laughs. “You’re not just doing this because we both know what measly salaries we make, and you’re a pragmatic, equitable person?”

“I mean, sure, but mostly the romancing.”

“Technically, you did pay for the meal on our first date,” Namjoon says, leaning forward. “Or, the morning after it. Or, I guess, the afternoon after it.”

“Namjoon, we’re still pretty close to campus,” you whisper, getting flustered by his tone and looking around warily.

“No one’s here,” he insists.

Your lips curl into a small smile and you lean forward quickly to give him a fast peck on the lips.

He laughs and leans back in his chair. “OK, OK, we’ll save more of the romancing for later.”

You make your way back to your cars, take a quick drive back to campus, and park over by the performance hall. 

You’ve always loved the performance hall. It isn’t some gaudy eyesore. It’s a huge, modern building with beautiful pink and purple lights criss-crossing in the front. The edifice is one huge glass panel, and its big, black, bold frame stands out against the light gray stone of the rest of the building. They’ve put twinkle lights in the small trees lining the walkway up to the glass doors, and as you amble along the path, Namjoon’s hand hovers close to yours. You smile at each other. You love seeing Namjoon like this, the soft yellow, pink, and purple lights making him look like he’s just stepped out of a hazy dream.

There are still center balcony seats left, and though the turnout is a little disappointing for the concert, you know it’s still early in the semester, and this place will be full come winter time. 

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” Namjoon asks, looking at the program.

You smile. “Has Jungkook made an impression on you?”

“Kinda. He’s a great talent, and he’s been fun to have in class. I’m already very fond of him.”

Your eyes sparkle at Namjoon’s sentimentality. 

The lights start to dim, and he holds his breath, making you smile wider. When the hall is completely surrounded in darkness, you reach over and take his hand in yours. When the stage lights come up, you see that he’s smiling at you. He gives your hand a squeeze, and you both turn back to the stage as the symphony takes their seats.

Jungkook takes his first chair position, right by the edge of the stage, perpendicular to the conductor, at the end of the first row of the semi-circle. He looks a little tense, but you see him take a deep breath and exhale before looking up. 

Once everyone is seated, the conductor motions over to the oboist, who plays a concert A. You smile, remembering a slice of your former life.

You absolutely love the sounds that fill the room next. The symphony starts to tune to that note, starting with the wind instruments. You note the particular sound of the French horns, another instrument that you love. The ease and quickness of how all the winds fall into tune together makes you excited for what you’re about to hear. 

The oboist plays another concert A, and Jungkook plays along perfectly. He leads the strings as they tune, and you catch a small smile on his face. 

You remember what it feels like, dressed in concert black, sitting on stage, moments away from a performance. Even if you’ve gotten tired of practicing the same pieces over and over again, especially works like Holst’s, the magic of being on stage and finally getting to share your work is always exciting.

The oboist plays one more concert A, and everybody uses this as a moment to check their tuning, make final adjustments, and then break off into flurries of several different melodies. The woodwinds practice their flurry of runs, which you know are coming up about a quarter of the way through the performance. The brass practice their loudest notes and most difficult jumps, which you know will be featured throughout several of the movements. The strings whip into a frenzy, as their arms will get a solid workout right from the start. And the percussionists are busy tuning the timpani, setting the auxiliary instruments up, making sure all mallets are set for quick pick-ups, though you smirk at the cymbalist sitting in his chair and yawning, anticipating blocks and blocks of rests in the music.

Once the symphony has settled, the conductor takes her place at the stand and raises her baton. 

Everyone’s instruments snap into place.

And then you’re off.

The piece opens with Mars, the Bringer of War. Savage. On a mission. The 5/4 time, col legno, and ostinato mix beautifully. A slow burn. A huge crescendo. Dramatic, passionate fire. Bombastic and dominant. You’re breathless by the end of it, and Namjoon’s fingers are interlaced with yours.

Then, Venus, the Bringer of Peace. Sensual, sensitive, soft, yet strong. Longing French horn. Ethereal, high, perfect 4ths and 5ths to resolve the chaos. Delicate. Artful. Jungkook’s violin absolutely sings during his solos, leading the rest of the strings into a mesmerizing chorus. The oboe is divine. All of it is haunting and absolutely beautiful. 

Next, Mercury, the Winged Messenger. The shortest, but your favorite, movement of the piece. Strings, woodwinds, keys, harps, bells, all incredibly fast, nimble, adept, spinning around, calling back to previous themes established by the previous pieces, using compound rhythms alternating with simple ones. A playful, gorgeous couple of melodies that play off of each other. Jungkook’s eyes soften when he plays the solo in this movement, and he smirks as the melodies spread across the orchestra in different octaves, to the woodwinds, and then to the percussion, like a conversation they’re all having together, moving together like they know each other so well so as to finish each others’ sentences.

Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity brings the brass back in with great exuberance. You’ve moved from a whirlwind back into regal composure. The dance sings of triumph, with tons of dynamic and instrumental range. You see Namjoon smile at the hemiola, and his head bobs side to side as the meter changes. You watch him during the slow processional that it leads to, and he looks so proud as he watches Jungkook leading the strings into the main theme of the movement, the volume swelling into something so simple but powerful. You can almost see Jungkook’s bow moving in a grandiose, sweeping pattern in the reflection of Namjoon’s glasses. 

Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age, also brings pensiveness with it. It’s a thoughtful piece, filled with tense bionality that plays into a metaphor of a pendulum. Lush chords that never quite settle, hard hits on the timpani to underscore their importance, then urgent, beckoning chimes, and then calm, gorgeous resolve led by the soft plucking of the harps and settling over the rest of the sections. A mix between assurance and anxiety, the movement that to you, feels the most reflective of life.

Following that, things get more distant, movements sounding more and more like echoes of pieces being transmitted to you from those outer planets. Uranus, the Magician bounds along, springy with tons of timpani. The strong, repeated four brass chords give the piece consistency, and there are moments where the piece sounds so happy and ostentatious. Namjoon actually laughs at part of it, making you smile. Then, that gut-wrenching shift, and the sudden, dramatic ending with a flourish of the timpani. Unbridled glee, then fury.

And finally, Neptune, the Mystic. Deep, quiet, and mysterious. Bass flute, low and soft. Beautiful tones shifting in and out of a sense of wonder, and a sense of fear. This movement is eccentric and unique, as well as curious. Like two complete strangers who don’t know how to communicate feeling each other out and starting to try to understand one another. The only movement to feature alienesque vocals from another room to signify, at that time in history, the beginning of the unknown universe. 

Before you realize it, the concert is over. The symphony has played so gorgeously, and you’re all on your feet, clapping and cheering vigorously, with you feeling like the applause isn’t doing the performance justice. Though you have heard a million of ensembles cover The Planets, and you’ve listened to it over and over again through the years, even played some of the movements yourself, you feel moved by this conductor’s approach to this performance, and these students’ dedication to this art. 

There’s something special about knowing someone in the ensemble, too. The house lights come up, and Jungkook’s eyes settle on you and Namjoon, front and center, watching from above. You continue clapping, directing your appreciation and positivity right to him. And he smiles and gives you a shy, exhausted wave.

You all meet in the main hall, and Jungkook looks so excited to see you both.

“What did you think?” he asks.

Namjoon extends his hand to him. In awe, Jungkook accepts it and shakes his hand.

“You are a wonderful, singular talent, Jungkook,” Namjoon says softly, grinning. “Your symphony, but also your solos… wow. I just… I’m so impressed and touched. And proud.”

“It was remarkable,” you add, smiling at him. “You flew. And you just… you just sang.”

Jungkook’s eyes glimmer. He laughs sheepishly, and his big, wondrous eyes look down at the ground. “I get kind of emotional after these performances.” He looks up at you both. “Thank you so much for those kind words. We’ve been through a pretty intense couple of years with changes to the faculty, and some people leaving the symphony.” He sniffles, and your heart goes out to him. “I think a lot of those emotions came out of me tonight while we played. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? You should be celebrating!” someone says from behind you. 

Jungkook looks up and doesn’t seem to recognize who’s speaking to him.

You and Namjoon turn around to see Jin and Kyong standing there. Kyong is smiling brightly. Jin looks like he did at the pub. Like he’s on some kind of quest. Like he’s trying to gather intel for a mission. 

Like he’s about to sabotage everything.

It takes almost every iota of willpower in you not to look at Namjoon, lest you give something away. You gear up for what’s about to come next.

“That was a great performance, Mr. Jeon,” Jin says. 

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, sounding unsure.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” Jin explains, reaching out for a handshake. “I’m a professor in the linguistics department.”

“Oh!” Jungkook says, grinning and shaking his hand. “Glad to meet you, Professor.” Jungkook turns to you and points at Jin. “Is this the third Professor Kim?”

You’re glad you still have some willpower left in the tank to tamp down the laugh that’s building in your belly. Jin is grimacing. He used to be the first Professor Kim. Especially in your life.

“Professor Kim here also has a healthy appreciation for the arts,” you say. “Didn’t you say that you and Kyong here met at a book signing?”

Jin is still grimacing with his eyes, but he pulls his lips into a daring smile. You’ve seen this face countless times. You’re about to spar. 

“That’s right,” Kyong says, just happy to be part of the conversation for once. “One of the leading scholars in Latin treebanks for universal dependencies was speaking on their recent work.”

Jin smiles proudly.

Someone calls for Jungkook, and he looks down the hall at a group of fellow students. Jungkook waves at them and turns back to your group.

“Well, thank you all for coming to the concert,” Jungkook says. “I hope you really did enjoy it. We’ll be performing again at the end of the semester. Hope to see you there, especially you both, Professor Kim, and Professor Kim.” His eyes find Namjoon’s and yours, and you both smile fondly at him.

“Of course,” Namjoon says. “Enjoy your celebration. You all have more than earned it.”

Jungkook smiles wide and then scampers off to join his friends. Your heart swells as you watch him go, and you momentarily forget that you’re in your own personal hell until Namjoon brings you back to the present.

“Kyong, nice to meet you. Are you a professor in the department, too?” Namjoon asks.

“Oh, no, I just work at the bookstore,” Kyong explains, turning a little red. You get the sense that she’s a bit self-conscious about her job.

“You clearly know tons on the subject, so you might as well be,” Namjoon says, a friendly smile there to ease any of her worries.

Kyong smiles again, and the pettiest part of you feels slighted by Namjoon’s kindness.

“Namjoon,” Jin steps in, similarly feeling threatened and reaching to shake his hand.

Namjoon looks at him quizzically and stares at his hand for a moment before accepting it. “Seokjin,” he says, nodding curtly. 

“You had a great performance this week as well, winning trivia last night,” Jin says, flashing you a look as he retracts his arm and brings it around Kyong’s waist.

“Oh, cool, you were there?” Namjoon asks. He doesn’t look at you for the same reason you didn’t look at him earlier in the conversation. He was able to pick up on what you were trying to tell him. That you need Jin not to know. You need Jin to be as far away from this as possible. Just for now. 

“Yeah,” Jin says. He looks at you. “I thought I told you to pass along my hello to him.”

You shrug. “You seem to be doing that just fine right now.”

Jin narrows his eyes. “So… you came to this concert together?”

Kyong stiffens under Jin’s embrace.

“Jungkook’s in one of my classes,” Namjoon explains. “Just came to support him.”

“So why are you here?” Jin asks you.

“What, I can’t just be places?” you mutter to yourself, under your breath.

“Hmm?” Jin asks.

And then you plaster on the fake smile. Jin knows it’s fake. He knows it’s fake because he knows your face so well. And he helped you craft the fake smile. Because you needed a fake smile for work. For Namjoon. That’s why Jin molders a little at it. He never thought you’d use it on him. 

“Jungkook was originally enrolled in my class,” you explain. “The registrar got our names mixed up or something. Since then, he’s been dropping by with questions about grad school. He mentioned the concert, and Yoongi said that Jungkook was a phenomenal violinist. So, I wanted to come support him, too.”

You want to bash Jin’s head in and tell him to stop grilling you, but you’re able to maintain your composure. You almost do a curtsy for the performance you’ve just given.

“So you’re not here on a date?” Kyong asks. She might be interested, but she also might not give a shit. She’s most likely asking to get the answers that Jin is so clearly desperate for.

Namjoon laughs. “Just here for a concert. And now that it’s over, I think I’m going to head out. Pleasure seeing you all.” He turns to you. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” you say, and Namjoon heads out.

You, Jin, and Kyong stand there uneasily for a little while. You almost wish Namjoon had said yes. You almost did.

Jin looks like he’s about to speak, but you cut him off.

“I just want to say that it seems like this is working out great for you two,” you say, putting on your most gracious tone to mask the worry that Namjoon really does mean that he won’t see you until tomorrow. “Wishing you both the best. Goodnight.”

Kyong and Jin watch you walk away. You think you hear Jin start to call out for you, but you pull out your phone to distract yourself.

There’s a text from Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon (9:42 PM): You’re still coming over, right?

You smile.

You get to Namjoon’s in record time.

You both tear each others’ clothes off. You kiss. You tumble into each other, and underneath Namjoon’s freshly laundered sheets. Your sex is slow, and soft, and sweet. You lie on your sides, and Namjoon whispers your name as he moves in and out of you, kissing your neck as he goes. And then you come, and he comes, and you feel so grateful. 

Namjoon sighs and settles into you, loving the feel of your naked body, his sheets, and his pillow all molded against him. He runs his hands up and down your stomach, feeling your chest and running back down to your thighs, stroking you and bringing you peace.

“How cute was Jungkook?” he asks, his breath hot against your ear.

“So adorable,” you admit. “And he’s so good.”

“Yeah, his solos were incredible.”

You take Namjoon’s hand and bring it to your lips. “Do you have a favorite movement?” you ask him, kissing his hand and fingers as you hug his arm to your chest.

He moves his hand to stroke your cheek, and you roll over to face him.

“I love Jupiter,” he replies. “It’s so stately and resplendent.”

You grin. “I thought it might be your favorite. You were kind of dancing to it.” You mimic him and laugh softly. “That was even cuter than Jungkook.”

Namjoon blushes. “I’m not used to being called cute.”

“Do you like it?” you tease.

Namjoon shrugs. “I don’t hate it,” he says, as he wraps you up in a tighter embrace. He presses a kiss onto your cheeks and looks at you. “What about you?” he asks. “What’s your favorite movement?”

"Mercury," you say, “hands down. Those sweeping runs? And the way it all collects into the two main melodies? I get so emotional at the swells.”

Namjoon’s eyes glaze over a little. “Did… did The Planets hold meaning for you and Jin?”

You furrow your brow. “Not particularly, no.” You look into his eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon says, and you feel something shift. He feels like the end of Neptune. Colder. Distant. Only getting farther away with each passing moment.

“Where are you going?” you ask meekly, interlacing your fingers with his.

Namjoon lets out a breath, and you feel him come back to you a bit. “You saw him at the pub?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you admit. “He stopped by the booth after you left.”

Namjoon doesn’t want to push, but he does want to at least ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug, looking down at his chest.

He raises your chin so that your eyes meet his. “Is that why you were so… energetic? When you came over last night?”

You shrug again. “I think so. But I’m still processing it. I think, most of all, though, I was excited to be with you.”

Namjoon nods. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to make it a bigger thing than it was,” you reply.

“OK, but, it’s just that… I told you about the things I’m learning,” he says. “The heartache that led me here. The lies. The cheating.”

You try to listen, but you are a little hurt. You try to see if Namjoon’s trying to say something that you’re misinterpreting. “Do you think something’s going on between me and Jin?” you ask. “Because if that last conversation was an indication of anything, it was about how badly I wanted to rip his head off of his body.”

Namjoon laughs softly. “No, I get that,” he says. “And I get that it must be hard to see him with…” 

Your eyes meet.

“I just… I don’t know,” Namjoon goes on. “I feel like I’d feel  better if you told me these things.”

“You want me to tell you when I see him, even though I do not want to see him at all?”

“Well… I don’t know. Just keep me in the loop. Or something.”

You aren’t sure about this, but you want to keep things in a good place with Namjoon. So you nod and say, “OK. I can keep you in the loop.”

He nods. “Thanks for hearing me out,” he says. “I just… I’m still…”

“It’s OK,” you reassure him. “We’re both learning, right?”

“I feel like I’m failing right now, being insecure, asking you to do this,” Namjoon says.

“I mean, it’s arguably a ‘classic boyfriend’ move,” you say. 

He chuckles. “You caught that, huh?”

“Catching those kinds of things is a classic girlfriend move, isn’t it?”

He smiles at you. “Well, then… how are you doing on the things that you’re learning?” 

“I think I’m learning… this is what a relationship is supposed to look like,” you say.

“A relationship, huh?” Namjoon asks, smiling. “With a whole boyfriend?”

“A relationship,” you echo. “With a whole girlfriend.”

He kisses you and holds you tightly, and you hope that you have built a solid enough foundation that his insecurity and your doubt about his requests to check in with him about Jin don’t pour into the cracks.

Chapter Text

The copier on the third floor of the building is a seemingly magical item. It’s the only one that doesn’t jam on every job, it somehow always has ink, and it still has all the parts it needs to staple thick packets together so that you don’t have to do it manually. The best thing about it is that nobody really knows it’s there, tucked away in the abandoned animal cognition wing of the building that now serves mostly as storage.

Namjoon grins at you as you help him print his exams. You’re showing him which buttons to push. In more ways than one.

“Make sure you pick the right paper size before you do anything,” you reply.

Namjoon watches over your shoulder, pressing up against you from behind, holding your hips in his hands and slightly rubbing on you.

“Hmm, so size matters,” he says. “Good thing to know that I don’t have a problem in that department.”

“Definitely not,” you giggle.

He pinches your waist, and you take in a sharp breath.

“So then, you’re going to want to select Collate first before finalizing the staple settings,” you say seductively.

“Important to get things in order,” he agrees, giving your ass a little smack and making you giggle more.

“And you can even choose from different staple orientations,” you whisper, wiggling your ass against him.

“No shit?” 

His lips are right up against your ear when he says it.

“Mmhmm,” you purr playfully.

“Tell me about them.” 

“Angled, vertical, or horizontal.”

Namjoon smirks and says, “I wanna get you angled, vertical, and horizontal.” 

You stifle your laughter so hard that you wheeze a little.

And then you hear footsteps.

“Hey, Professor, sorry we’re a little late---”

Hoseok and Yoongi stop in the doorway just after you and Namjoon pull apart just in the nick of time. Namjoon’s somehow at the other end of the room, standing next to the stack of exams you’ve already copied for your upcoming class and pretending to look them over. You stay leaning over the copier, fanning yourself to try and calm down before Yoongi and his weird telepathic skills pick up on any shenanigans. 

You turn around and see Hoseok blinking at you, and Yoongi frowning.

“Oh, hey guys,” you say as plainly as you can.

Namjoon stifles a laugh. 

Yoongi stares at him intently with knitted brows. 

“Uh, this stack?” Hoseok asks, pointing over to the stack of exams spitting out of the copier.

“No, that one,” you say, gesturing over to the stack next to Namjoon.

Hoseok looks at the stack of papers. Then Namjoon. Then over at Yoongi, who remains motionless.

And then, Hoseok reaches behind him and pulls a small roller cart into the room. He walks over to the stack of your exams and reads the first one to make sure you’re not making a mistake before loading them onto the cart in piles. 

“Well, I’d better get going,” you tell Namjoon awkwardly, and he gives you just the smallest hint of a smirk.

“Thanks for your help,” he says, waving goodbye as the three of you make your way back to the elevators.

Yoongi watches you as he and Hoseok push the cart along.

You turn to him.

“What?” you ask, feigning irritation to mask your fear.

Yoongi frowns again. “You told him about the secret copier?”

“The one on our floor broke, and he also has an exam in fifteen minutes,” you say.

“We swore we wouldn’t tell anyone about the secret copier,” Yoongi says, finally breaking his gaze from you and staring straight ahead. “If I see Jimin and Taehyung in there, I’m gonna lose my shit because it’ll only be a matter of time before everyone else finds out about it, and then we’ll have two broken copiers.”

You roll your eyes. “Is that it?”

“No, that’s not it,” Yoongi complains.

The elevator doors open, and you walk inside.

Hoseok pushes the DOOR CLOSE button and blows a tuft of hair out of his face.

“‘Fess up,” Yoongi says, folding his arms and looking at you. “For three years, we’ve been at war with Professor Kim. Now we’re playing trivia with him instead of against him? He’s bringing you food almost every day? And now you’ve shown him the secret copier?”

“Up is down, black is white,” Hoseok says sarcastically.

“Is he playing mind games? Buttering you up for something?” Yoongi asks. “Seriously, what gives?”

“Yoongi, I really was just trying to help him,” you say, and you notice that your voice isn’t taking a weird tone anymore. Maybe it’s because that’s technically true. Namjoon’s exams got stuck in the other copier, and he was in a bind. You just left out the part where you almost started fucking. 

Yoongi glares at you, but he eventually decides to let it go.

You’re uneasy now that you know you can deftly navigate lies of omission. 

The elevator doors open again, and you’re thankful. You walk outside and take a deep breath of not-so-fresh air as you navigate the crowds moving into the lecture halls.

Hoseok and Yoongi join your class to proctor your exam. After they pass out the exam packets to all of your students, they spend the rest of the lecture walking up and down the aisles, scanning for cheating but trying their best not to distract your students.

The students settle into their waves. The first wave of students are the ones who are always early to class. They keep up with the reading each week, studying in manageable chunks. They’ve brought extra scantrons and don’t mind sharing with people who forgot theirs. They have a pen, a pencil, and a highlighter to use to mark all over the packet, and they will. They never forget to write their name on both the scantron and the test. They’re the ones who leave first.

The second wave of students make up the bulk of the class. Most of them crammed the night before, but that’s not to say that they haven’t been studying off and on all semester. They leave when it’s about ten minutes until the end of the lecture hour, and they all bunch up at the front, eager to turn their exams in and head off to their next class. 

The third wave of students are a mix of people who need more time, who want more time, and who fell asleep at some point during the exam and just ask for enough time to bubble in “C” for the remaining questions. You deal with them on a case-by-case basis, though that last subgroup is definitely not your favorite. They leave last, when you make a final call for the remaining exams.

Throughout all that time, though, Yoongi still seems annoyed.

The three of you head over to the scantron reader in the main office. As Yoongi runs the scantrons through, Hoseok staples the graded scantrons to the matching packet. Once they’re done, you upload a summary of the grades onto a flash drive.  You all uncharacteristically work in silence. 

When you get back to the lab, you think they’ve finally let it go, but Yoongi gathers his things and tells you that he’s going to work from home for the rest of the day.

You sigh as you watch him leave.

You exchange glances with Hoseok, but he averts his eyes and focuses on filing the exams you’ve just graded. Once he’s done with that, he takes the summary sheet that the scantron machine spat out for you, and he brings it to you so that you can enter the grades online.

He watches as you type the numbers in, lingering as you work.

“What now?” you ask him, irritated.

“Look, I don’t want to get involved,” he says, raising his hands. “I just wanted to say that I think this is less about what is or isn’t going on between you and Professor Kim, and more about what’s going on with Yoongi.”

You soften.

**

You almost get caught again, this time, right before the staff meeting. 

You and Namjoon get to the faculty lounge a little early, and he pulls you into a toe-curling kiss, a kiss that you hate having to break when you hear Sejin’s gait echoing down the hall. 

He pops into the room and looks at the two of you, standing by the disgusting fridge, pretending to make small talk.

Sejin eyes you both.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Namjoon responds, as you nod politely.

Sejin’s eyes narrow at Namjoon.

“You’ve got something on your lip.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen, and you fight the impulse to reach out and wipe your lipstick off of his mouth. He wipes it with the back of his hand and laughs, losing himself for a moment.

“Lipstick?” Sejin asks.

“Pastry,” Namjoon lies.

“There are pastries?” 

Sejin looks toward the table, and you take advantage of a moment to wipe around the edges of your lips before Sejin fully puts two and two together.

When he doesn’t see any pastries, Sejin turns back to Namjoon and frowns.

“I had one on my way in this morning,” Namjoon explains. 

“Figures,” Sejin mutters, taking his usual spot at the table.

The rest of the department joins you, and soon, the meeting, if you can call it that, begins.

Instead of paying attention or participating in discussions that will ultimately go nowhere, you’re passing little notes back and forth instead.

He starts your little game. He slides a folder to you and opens it, tapping on part of the page. You open it and see old receipts from his lab, but he’s written something off to the side.

Your tits look fucking amazing in that blouse.

You scrunch your face up as you fight a smile and use your pen to completely black out what he’s just written.

Namjoon looks concerned, but then he sees you writing something just underneath. 

You slide it back over to him.

If you clench your jaw one more time, I’m going to come in this chair.

He reads it and nods as if it’s something important. He blacks out the words once he’s read them.

And then he clenches his jaw.

You can’t help but sigh.

You try to do it quietly, but Si-hyuk notices you, and he realizes that you and Namjoon are kind of off in your own world. 

“Are we boring you?” Si-hyuk asks, interrupting Adora’s explanation for why she needs additional funding for new reagents. She and the rest of the senior faculty all turn to you.

Namjoon closes the folder, and you fiddle with your pen.

“What’s with you two?” he asks.

“Sir?” Namjoon asks.

“You seem different,” Si-hyuk says, not being able to put a finger on what he’s picking up on, exactly.

Sejin looks over at you, and he wonders if it’s the same vibe that he was picking up on before. 

“Well,” Namjoon replies, looking at you.

Your heart starts racing. You don’t know what he’s about to say. You wonder if he’s about to tell them the truth. You wonder if that will solve everything, from the sneaking around, to the lie you’ve had to keep from the people who happen to know you best.

“We just thought it would be a healthier approach if we helped each other work toward tenure,” Namjoon lies, and you’re a little thrown by how good at it he is.

Si-hyuk looks at you.

“Yes,” you say, looking at Namjoon and knowing that you’re not as good at it as he is. “We’ve just been, uh, sharing notes.”

“Notes?” Si-hyuk asks. “What kind of notes?”

“Research notes,” you say, vaguely.

Technically, that’s true. The things that you and Namjoon have been passing back and forth are notes. Plus, outside of this meeting, you’ve been discussing your current studies, and you’ve been helping each other iron out the kinks.

“I see,” Si-hyuk says, furrowing his brow. “Well, as you share your little notes, let me remind you both that the clock is ticking, and neither of you have produced any publications yet this semester.”

“It’s only the middle of the term,” Namjoon protests. “That’s an unfair timetable.”

“A faculty member worthy of tenure would be able to do it,” Si-hyuk claims. 

Sejin looks like he wants to weigh in, and you brace for what he’s going to say.

“With all due respect, sir,” Sejin replies, “none of our senior faculty have published yet either.”

You and Namjoon raise your eyebrows. The senior faculty have never come to your defense like this.

Sejin clears his throat, trying to get Si-hyuk’s attention. “Isn’t that a little unrealistic, given the pace of our field? It’s literally only been a few months since the semester began---”

“At this rate,” Si-hyuk replies, keeping his eyes trained on you and Namjoon while steamrolling over Sejin, “I won’t have anything to go off of at the end of the academic year except enrollment, and I believe, Namjoon, you’re behind on that metric, so shouldn’t you be focusing on what matters?”

“We are,” Namjoon replies. “We’re talking about our research. Isn’t that the point of publications anyway? To share our work?”

“And do you expect to share tenure as well, hmm?” Si-hyuk challenges.

“No,” you reply, “but maybe this way, whoever gets it is well-prepared, no matter what.”

Si-hyuk frowns. For some reason, he doesn’t seem to like the idea that you’re cooperating with each other.

Sejin notices Si-hyuk’s face and smirks. He can’t help it. Si-hyuk looks hilarious when he’s this mad. Sejin can’t take him seriously. 

And once that happens, all the dominoes fall.

Sejin looks over at Adora. “Anyway, did you want to go on with what you were saying?” he asks, ignoring the way Si-hyuk glares at Sejin for suddenly taking over the meeting so casually.

“Excuse me, Sejin?” Si-hyuk asks him.

Adora glances at Si-hyuk, who’s getting redder and redder.

And then she looks at Sejin, who looks like he generally wants to listen.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Adora says, smiling a little.

The senior faculty start discussing their respective budgets, self-organizing to figure out where there could be financial resources to scrape together for Adora’s reagents. 

Si-hyuk looks like he’s about to explode. He keeps trying to cut in, but they talk over him, just the way that he has talked over them for the past few years, and just the way he’d done to Sejin and Adora moments ago.

“Do you think you can get by with one case?” Sejin asks, pointing out the details in a receipt from one of Adora’s past orders. 

“That should last for the run of the experiment, at least,” Adora replies.

Sejin nods. “OK, well I can spare some of this funding from this grant to order it. It’s only to be used for lab materials anyway, and we’ve got what we need for the semester. The funding would just go to waste.”

“Then I’ll allocate the same amount for the grant I have coming in next month,” Adora replies. “I have a fraction devoted to maintenance costs, and I think I could argue to spend it on at least one lighting fixture for your main lecture hall.”

“Every little bit would help,” Sejin agrees, grinning. “Thanks.”

“Well, aren’t you all just a great team,” Si-hyuk spits. He stands forcefully, knocking over his chair. “Seems like you don’t need me at all, then.”

“Aren’t you late for your tee time?” Adora asks bravely, making Sejin and the other senior faculty laugh.

Si-hyuk looks like he could strangle her, or any one of you. But the interesting thing is that no one seems to care.

Except for you.

“My god, we’ve started a full on mutiny,” you mutter to Namjoon, grasping the edge of the table and watching Si-hyuk storm out.

Namjoon dares to reassuringly stroke your thigh under the table. “It’ll be OK.”

“You sure about that?”

The senior faculty keep talking, pausing only slightly when Si-hyuk says, “Let’s see how you all feel when it comes time for performance reviews,” before stomping toward the door.

Namjoon looks at you. “Well, it’ll probably be OK. Kinda. Maybe. I think.”

The door slams, and Sejin looks over at you and Namjoon. Instead of narrowing his eyes with suspicion, he grins.

“Look at the juniors stepping up,” he tells you, as Adora nods along happily. “Nice job rising to the challenge.”

You both smile at him.

And you smile at each other.

**

That night, you and Namjoon are at your place, sitting on your bed, buried under stacks and stacks of papers and tests and barely saying a word to each other. Grades are due by the end of day tomorrow, and between Jimin and Taehyung being swamped with grading for their own TA assignments, and things being weird between you, Yoongi, and Hoseok, neither of you have any help.

“How many have you done?” you ask, rolling your stiff neck.

“Just got through my first class,” Namjoon says, keeping his eyes on the test that he’s grading while reaching over to massage the nape of your neck.

You let your head hang forward and place your hand on the back of his as his fingers soothe your aching muscles.

“How many people are in your first class?”

“124.”

“Shit,” you say. “I’ve only gotten through 85.”

“I can help you if and whenever I get done.”

“That’s cheating.”

“This isn’t a competition,” Namjoon laughs softly, but you still feel annoyed.

You hear a knock at the door, and you both startle.

“Did you order food?” Namjoon asks hopefully.

“No, I completely forgot.” You check your phone. No messages, no calls. And it’s 10 PM.

“Fuck, it’s so late,” you complain.

“I’m starving,” Namjoon mutters, “and you never have anything in your fridge.” 

You furrow your brow at him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am also busy,” you snipe. 

“Yeah, but I could forgive you being behind by 39 tests if you ordered us food.”

He smiles sarcastically at you, and you sigh.

You had hoped that you could still be riding the teamwork high from that morning’s staff meeting, or that you had enough time to spare to make an appearance at Thursday pub trivia night, but you’re all just too busy and burned out. In fact, you’re kind of wishing Namjoon were at his place tonight.

There are more knocks at the door. They sound urgent.

Namjoon looks over at you. “Aren’t you going to get that?”

“I’m not expecting anyone, so no,” you say, finishing a test and moving onto the next.

Namjoon puts his pen down and searches your face.

You look up at him and frown. “What??”

“Are you saying that, or are you actually expecting someone, and you don’t want me to see who it is?” 

“Excuse me?”

“If I open that door, would I see Jin standing there?” he asks.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you demand.

Namjoon looks immediately sorry. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You better not have,” you say.

More knocks.

“Jesus,” you mutter, getting out of bed and marching toward the door.

You throw it open to find Yoongi standing there, tears in his eyes.

“Yoongi?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, but I just --- I don’t --- I didn’t---”

He’s shaking.

“Come in,” you say quickly, wrapping an arm around him and leading him to your couch.

He sits and buries his head in his hands, breathing erratically.

“Hold on, OK?” you ask. “Two seconds. Please. Just breathe. Breathe.”

He takes a few deep breaths, and he seems to calm down just a bit.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere. We’re going to stay here, and we’re going to do whatever you need to do to feel better. OK?”

Yoongi nods sadly, trying to get a handle on his breathing.

You rush to your room and find Namjoon putting on his sweater.

You walk up to him. “It’s Yoongi.”

“I heard.”

He hugs you and presses a kiss onto your lips. “I’ll come back later. Or in the morning. Whatever you think works best.”

Given Yoongi’s state, and given his less-than-ideal reaction to anything related to Namjoon, you know it’s best if Namjoon leaves without being seen. But you think of how much help Jin gave you the last time Yoongi was like this. How supportive Jin had been. How it made all the difference in the world to have someone there with you to navigate through this, even if just to affirm that you were doing the right things. 

You’re so tired of having to hide.

“He looks like he needs something to drink. Let me help him to the kitchen on his own time, and then you can sneak out,” you tell Namjoon, who nods.

You grab a blanket from your bed and walk back out to the living room to find Yoongi just as you left him, except he’s having an easier time breathing.

You place the blanket around Yoongi’s shoulders, and he startles.

“Sorry, it’s just me,” you say, sitting next to him on the couch and patting his back.

Yoongi nods and grasps the blanket so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

You just sit there, letting the silence fill the room. You don’t do any of the things you’d usually do when you have company. You don’t offer any snacks. You don’t turn on the TV or any music. You definitely don’t start asking questions or making small talk. You just sit there on the couch and wait.

In time, Yoongi’s breathing stabilizes, and he’s leaning back on the couch, his head resting on the top, his eyes closed. When he opens them, you know he’s ready to talk.

He straightens and lifts his head from the couch. He turns to you, tears pooling in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your evening.”

“You didn’t,” you say earnestly.

He sighs. “Things were going well. I don’t know why I can’t keep it together.”

“Yes you do,” you say. “Think about it.”

He looks at the floor now, pushing his lips out.

“Tell me. What were the triggers.”

“Stress.”

“From?”

“Work. Research.” He looks at you. “Dissertation.”

“I know it’s hard to see, but you’ll finish it eventually.”

“I did.”

You look at him quizzically. “...Wait, what?”

“I finished my dissertation,” he repeats. 

You smile and go to congratulate him gently, but then he starts to cry.

“What’s triggering about finishing your dissertation?” you ask.

“I don’t know, I just…” 

He shakes his head and wipes his eyes with the back of his hands. “I just finished the draft, and saved it on the drive, and then saved back-up copies of it on a bunch of different flash drives, and emailed myself two different copies to each of my emails, and then caught some mistakes and re-did the whole process, y’know, like usual,” he says, and you smile to yourself. “But… then it was just… done.”

You know what he’s talking about. When you finished your dissertation, you felt completely numb. You put it away for a day before you sent it in officially. You didn’t really know what to do next. But when you talked to other students about it, you’ve heard them explain a range of emotions. Some were numb, like you. Some were ecstatic, with one person in your cohort immediately doing shots by himself in his kitchen and slam-dancing to his favorite songs. But some burst into tears and had panic attacks, just like Yoongi. It was a huge, emotional release, coupled with the fear of not knowing what comes next. They had marched toward this goal for years, and in some instances, decades. It’s scary when you just don’t see anymore runway in front of you. You don’t know if you’ll fly or crash.

You feel a little better seeing Yoongi stable, and you start thinking about Namjoon, pausing in wait.

“Hot water and lemon?” you ask.

Yoongi nods.

You help him up, and you walk over to the kitchen.

You lead Yoongi to the seat facing away from the hall, and when Namjoon hears the kettle whistle, you see him peek into the kitchen and wave goodbye.

You nod once, and Namjoon disappears. You let the kettle almost boil over to mask the front door clicking back into place.

You turn your full attention back to Yoongi, sitting to his left at your kitchen table.

You set down two mugs of hot water and lemon. Yoongi finds it incredibly comforting in its simplicity, but honestly, that was all that was in your fridge.

“Do you want to talk it out, or do you want to just relax?” you ask him.

“I have a question,” he tells you.

“Shoot.”

“How---” His voice croaks, and he looks embarrassed. You smile gently and bring your mug to your lips. He watches you and does the same. You know the water and lemon will soothe his throat. He takes a breath and tries again.

“How do you deal with change?”

You take a deep breath.

“Well, what kinds of change?”

“Any?” Yoongi ventures, and you laugh softly. He smiles, and it fills your heart.

“Change is always hard for me, too,” you say. You think of all the changes you’ve experienced throughout your life. You definitely wouldn’t say that you’ve handled those transitions particularly gracefully.

Yoongi puffs out his cheeks.

“Well, what was it like… with your most recent change?”

You realize that this is what Hoseok was talking about, why Yoongi was reacting so negatively to things in general. It has nothing to do with personal matters, you, Namjoon, Jin, or anyone else. It’s really just about Yoongi trying to figure out his own place in the world, and seeing things change so drastically added to everything he was feeling.

“You mean my divorce?” you ask.

Yoongi looks anxious. “I don’t mean to stick my nose into something that’s none of my business. I just feel like things made so much sense. My work made sense. My life made sense. And now, my life is going to change drastically. It seemed to be the same with you and Professor Kim.”

“How do you mean?”

“You just seemed so perfect for each other.”

You think of Namjoon saying the same thing the night that you first hooked up.

“I get that a lot,” you say warily.

“I just mean that your life made sense,” Yoongi backtracks. “And then, suddenly, it didn’t.”

You scoff. “It wasn’t sudden.”

“It wasn’t?”

You shake your head. “It might have seemed like that to everyone else. But we had been drifting apart for a while. I wanted and still want to get tenure. I thought that meant sacrificing everything. My time. My energy. But honestly, more of that time and energy should have gone into my marriage. I was actively choosing to miss special events, like Jin’s family’s events, or Jin’s department parties, to work on my research. And our little work rivalry with the Kim lab, or even our other lab rivalries with others in the field, were taking a toll, too. They’re all I could talk about, and my mind would drift there when I should have been focusing more on being present with Jin. Asking him about his day. Asking him about his work. Toward the end, he and I weren’t even talking. Now, there were other problems, too. But as far as my side of things, the truth was that I just couldn’t balance it all. Even though I was arguably succeeding in the one main area of my life, I wasn’t stopping to ask myself if my career was all I wanted out of life in the first place.”

Yoongi stares at you in reverence. “That’s exactly how I feel. It’s daunting. I feel like I won’t be able to balance preparing for my defense on top of applying everywhere and somehow continuing my research. And I feel like I’ll be so focused on getting a professorship, and then getting tenure, that I’ll never get my personal life in order. I haven’t seen my family in so, so long. And when I do talk to them, all I can talk about is my work. On top of that, I put off being in any sort of relationship. The closest thing to a romantic dinner that I’ve had in five years is that night Hoseok and I stayed up late grading the first round of exams.”

You laugh, and Yoongi smiles sheepishly at you.

“You seemed to have more of it figured it out now, though,” Yoongi says.

And it hits you that that’s why he’s been so curious about you. He wants to know how you’re working toward balance again. He needs the answer for himself.

“Maybe I do, for now. But ask me again in a couple of months, and maybe I won’t.”

You lean forward and fiddle with the handle of your mug. “Those big life questions don’t ever really go away,” you say. “If anything, they deepen in complexity. Think of it like hypotheses in our field. You gather data and adjust your hypothesis accordingly over time, and it gets more nuanced the more you learn. But as long as you’re learning, then at least you’re moving forward.”

Yoongi nods. You know how helpful that metaphor is. You remember when your mentors told you as much when you were in school. You lean on that metaphor when life shapeshifts into unrecognizable forms.

“It just feels so scary,” he says.

“What scares you?” you ask.

“Not knowing exactly what comes next,” Yoongi says. “The uncertainty of professorship applications and job talks and all that.”

You know the application process is a trigger for Yoongi. Last time you were talking like this at your kitchen table, he told you about those twelve rejection letters from grad schools that made him down his sick grandmother’s prescription painkillers.

And you think about the crazy process that everyone goes through for job talks. Deciding which studies to highlight to tell your story. Creating a slide deck that’s easily adaptable for each position you apply for. Traveling from university to university. Hoping that the faculty who are in attendance don’t fall asleep. Trying to make your talk interesting and engaging enough that even the students who have been forced to attend them find value in the hour that you’ve been given. 

“You know what the application process looks like, and Hoseok and I are here to help you through it. And you’ve been present at enough of those job talks to know how to handle them,” you remark.

“I know.” Yoongi looks up at you meaningfully. “I actually remember Professor Kim’s talk, from when he was interviewing for our department.”

“Namjoon’s?” you ask.

“Yeah. It was good. Really good.”

You smile fondly. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Elegant,” Yoongi says, nodding. “And creative.”

“Well, there you go,” you say. “If our evil archnemesis can do it, so can you.”

Yoongi laughs. “Yeah.” He sighs. “OK. That makes it less scary. I think I feel better.”

“Good,” you say, standing. “I’ll just go grab some pillows and another blanket. That one’s not long enough for you.”

“Actually, I don’t think I need to stay,” Yoongi says, looking up at you.

“Please do,” you say. “I just want to help make sure that---”

“I won’t be alone,” Yoongi says. “I think I’m gonna call Hoseok. I know he’s still up working. We were texting earlier, before I basically fell apart.”

“You didn’t fall apart,” you say. “Otherwise, how would you have gotten here?”

Yoongi smiles.

“You’re OK to drive?” you ask.

He nods.

“Please text or call when you get there.”

“I will.”

Yoongi stands and hands you back the blanket that you’ve given him.

You both walk to the door, but just before Yoongi steps onto your porch, you say, “Hey.”

He turns to you and grins. “What?”

“Congratulations on finishing your PhD,” you say, feeling proud and nostalgic.

Yoongi’s eyes start to brim with tears again, and he hugs you.

It starts to come to you. The years you’ve spent together. The years you’ve spent watching him grow. The years you’ve worked as true partners in crime.

You aren’t going to be able to handle this change gracefully either.

Yoongi takes a step back, and you both giggle and wipe your tears.

“I still have to actually submit it to you,” he says.

“Whenever you feel ready,” you reply. “But I know it’s going to be great. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

Yoongi’s chest swells, and he lets out a cleansing breath.

“Thank you so much for tonight. See you tomorrow,” he says.

“See you. And get some rest.”

He turns and walks toward his car, parked on the street, and you only close the door when you hear him talking with Hoseok on the phone.

You sigh and sit back on your bed, staring at Namjoon’s exams, stacked on his side of the bed.

His side.

You smile to yourself. And then you feel a little nervous.

You reach for your phone and call him.

“Hey,” he answers softly. It sounds like he’s driving. “How’d it go?”

“Good. He feels better. He’s going to stay with Hoseok.” You sigh. “Where are you? Did you leave?”

“It was just so late that I decided to go home,” he says. “Nearly there.”

“So you’ll be back in the morning?”

“Yup.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

“It’s OK. It’ll be a bit of a rush, but we still have all day tomorrow to finish grading.”

“No,” you say. “I’m sorry for sniping.”

Namjoon sighs.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about Jin.”

You frown. “About that.”

“...Yes?” he asks, nervous.

“I haven’t spoken to him or seen him at all.”

“I know, and I---”

“But,” you say, “I want to call him tonight. He was there for Yoongi last time. It was a really,  really big thing for us to deal with, and I just… I-I just feel like I need to talk to him about it. I know I don’t exactly need your permission, but I didn’t want to do anything without telling you first.”

Namjoon’s silent for a little while, and all you can hear is the sound of his car on the pavement, and an acoustic guitar playing softly on the radio.

Then, he says, “I understand. Do what you need to do.”

“Thank you for understanding,” you say.

“Call me tomorrow when you’re up,” he says. “I’ll come over and pick up those tests. And make sure you get some sleep.”

“You too,” you say. 

“Night.”

“Goodnight.”

You both hang up, and then your stomach turns at what you’re about to do.

You pull up Jin’s number.

And you call him.

It only rings once before he picks up.

“Hey, hi, is everything OK?” he asks quickly, and you hear Kyong say something in the background. It doesn’t sound good. You hear rustling, footsteps, and then silence. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you say. “Why are you so flustered?” You blush. “God, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you---”

“No, no, we were just watching TV,” Jin says. “I just…” His voice is calmer, more even, when he speaks again. “I just figured that if you were actually calling me, it’d be because of some kind of emergency.”

You lie back against your headboard.

“Yoongi had another panic attack.”

“Fuck, is he OK?”

“He’s fine now.” You rub your eyes. “He hadn’t self-harmed or anything. But Jin, seeing him like that again…” 

“Then it wasn’t as bad as when we took him in, right?” he asks gently.

“No. Not that bad.” Your voice wavers. “When he was sitting on the couch, I kept getting flashes of him lying in the hospital bed. All small and helpless. And alone.” 

“He wasn’t alone. You were there for him.”

“So were you.”

“We both were. Still are, if needed.”

You start to cry, and Jin just listens.

“I’m sorry, I just had to get that out, and I needed to do it with someone who was there with me,” you say, calming down and taking a breath.

“What you did for him then. And what it sounds like you did for him tonight. Not everyone does that for people. You know that, right?” he tells you.

“They shouldn’t have to,” you say. “We shouldn’t have to.”

“I’m not talking about your usual diatribe on the state of mental health care, as pitiful as it may be,” Jin says. 

“I know.” 

You sigh. 

“Jin, I have to ask…”

“Yeah?”

“What was with the pub? And then the concert?” you ask.

Jin stays silent.

“Remember the good that we did when we were on the same team?” you ask him, almost pleading. You feel like Namjoon did. You want to call a truce. At the very least, a ceasefire.

Jin exhales slowly. “Yeah. I know. I---”

You hear Kyong saying something in the background again. Jin muffles the receiver and says something back.

“Look, I’ve gotta go,” he says.

“Right. Sorry. Thanks for your time. And tell Kyong thanks too.”

“I will. You’re good?”

“I am.”

“Of course you are. You always are.” 

You hang up. You smile, and you try to hold onto this feeling. It’s been a while since you’ve been able to smile about anything Jin has said to you. You don’t know if it’s possible, and it’s definitely not going to happen tonight, but at least now you know that you’d eventually like to get back there. 

Back to some point where you and Jin could be friends again.

**

When you step out of the shower and walk back into your bedroom, you see that the key that you left under the welcome mat for Namjoon is sitting at the foot of your bed. The neatly arranged stacks of exams, all graded, are gone. 

You walk into the living room and see Namjoon carrying the last stack to the door. 

“What are you doing?” you ask.

He turns to you and brightens. “Did you grade them all?”

“And sorted them by class, and alphabetically,” you say proudly. You soften at his huge grin. “I just wanted to say thank you for letting me take care of things last night,” you say, re-fastening your robe and shaking your hair in your towel before you take it off of your head.

He’s still smiling, but he shakes his head. “You didn’t listen.”

“Huh?” You squeeze the ends of your hair into your towel to get your hair to stop dripping.

“I told you to get some sleep. This must have taken you all night.”

“Well, today’s going to be a light day anyway,” you say, shrugging.

You step forward to help him, but he moves away from you. “I’ve got it. Don’t want them to get wet,” he says. 

“Oh. OK.”

The last stack hits the floor with a soft whump.

“I’d rather get you wet,” he tells you, striding over and colliding with you as he kisses you.

“Joon,” you whisper, giggling. “I just showered. We’re going to be late as it is.”

“C’mon, just a quickie.”

“Joon!”

He unfastens your robe and guides you to your bed. He lays you down, and you laugh softly as he smells your soap, licking and tasting you all over until his lips meet yours for another incredible kiss. 

You move your hand down to your now pulsing pussy, but he moves your hand away, moving it above your head and pressing it into the mattress. He does the same with your other hand and holds them there with one of his hands.

“Don’t do a thing,” he tells you, and you shiver. “Let me get you ready.”

He kisses you and moves his other hand down to your pussy, rubbing your clit softly at first, but quickly as soon as you start to move your hips in time to his rhythm. You get so wet for him so fast, and as soon as he feels your thick juices on his fingertips, he spreads your lips open and sticks a finger inside of you. 

You break your kiss to moan, and he pumps his finger in and out of you, your walls opening quickly for him. He sticks another finger inside of you, and you gasp at how quickly your body makes space for him. Finally, he unzips his pants and lets them fall to the floor. He strokes his dripping cock a few times before pressing into you, already filling you up and making you feel like you’ll explode if he goes any deeper. He does, and you hold off that explosion for as long as you can.

“How does it feel?” he asks you.

You mumble something, and he snickers.

And soon, you can’t hold off anymore.

“I’m close,” you whisper.

“Me too,” Namjoon answers. “Hold on just a little longer.”

You bite your lip. You bite both your lips. You suck them in, your jaw trembling as you clench down as hard as you can to distract the euphoria bubbling from within.

Then you feel Namjoon’s voice crackling, and as he pumps into you one last time, you release, both of you swimming through waves and waves of your shared thrill. He moves against your body, sighing and moaning. You claw his back, hands sweaty, fists making wrinkles in his ironed dress shirt. And he peppers you with kisses, lost in his own daze.

He lands on top of you, and you both hear the welcome mat key fall to the floor.

Namjoon leans over and picks it up before rolling back onto you.

“Thanks for leaving this for me,” he says, holding it up, the key jingling against the ring. “Came in handy.”

“You could, y’know. Hang onto it,” you say. “If you want.” 

Namjoon’s eyes widen. He looks at you seriously. “Really?”

“Of course,” you say, running your hand through his hair.

He kisses you. He sighs, both of you sublimely happy. 

And then he yawns.

“No, no, no,” you say, struggling under his body. “We’ve gotta go.”

“Let’s call in,” he whispers.

“We have more exams to proctor! Those students will lose their shit if we’re not in class right on time!”

“So we’ll fail them all.

“Joon!”

“Or we’ll give them all As.”

“Joon,” you laugh, tickling him to get him off of you.

He does, and he stares down at your naked body and wet hair, lying on your sheets, smiling up at him.

You sit up and lick him clean as you pull your robe on. And then he zips up his pants before crouching down, so that he’s eye-level with you. After you re-fasten your robe, he takes your hands in his, and he kisses you slowly. Pensively.

He pulls away, and you’re entranced by him.

“I know it’s still soon,” he tells you. “I don’t know if you’re ready to hear it, or if I’m even ready to say it yet. But I need to tell you that I was damn close to saying it just now.”

Your heart fills, and you hold his face in your hands.

“It’s because I wasn’t wearing shoes, isn’t it?”

He laughs and pulls you up, and you wonder why you don’t start the day this way every day.

**

Yoongi’s been in weeks of revisions, but you think you’re about to approve the final draft of his dissertation. You, Si-hyuk, Adora, Sejin, and another senior faculty member, Hyo-won, make up his committee. You’re at a staff meeting regarding dissertation defenses to be planned for the next semester, and Yoongi’s dissertation has risen to the top as a standout piece of work.

“You’ve really done an amazing job with him,” Adora compliments you. She flips to the front of the printed manuscript. “I don’t believe I have any additional comments.”

“Neither do I,” Sejin adds, nodding.

“The only comment I have is how exciting it is to have this new finding in his dissertation work,” Hyo-won replies, grinning. “This is a shoo-in for a couple of journals, at least. Hope he gets a publication out of it.”

“Hope we all do,” Sejin chimes in, and everyone laughs gently.

Namjoon bumps your leg under the table, and though you don’t look at each other, you know he’s telling you how excited and proud he is.

“Thanks, everyone,” you say. “As you know, this is a big deal. Yoongi is the first student I mentored here, and he’ll be my first graduate.”

“Do you think that’s going to tip tenure in your favor?” Si-hyuk asks, coolly. “Because it’s not necessarily one of the factors that I said I’d count.”

“No, I just… We’re talking about Yoongi,” you say, shaken by Si-hyuk’s sudden snide remarks.

“Are we even sure that Yoongi is ready to graduate at all?” Si-hyuk asks. 

“Really?” Sejin asks, exhausted. “The guy found evidence of a trend that’s really gathering attention in their field right now, and he was able to do that through a thoughtful and sophisticated research design. What reasons would you have to hold him back?”

“Who knows? There could be a multitude of reasons to hold him back,” Si-hyuk replies, eyeing him. “And final committee approval for the dissertation must be unanimous.” 

“Then we’ll just change the committee,” Adora says firmly. “There’s no rule against that.” She looks around the table. “Namjoon?”

“Yes?” Namjoon asks.

“Couldn’t you serve on Yoongi’s dissertation committee?”

“Hold your horses,” Si-hyuk chimes in, “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to---”

“No, wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?” Namjoon asks.

Everyone looks at him, confused.

You stamp your foot down on Namjoon’s toes. He’s lucky that he’s wearing a pair of leather loafers. You’ve got your maroon cone heels on, and they pack a punch.

“Why would that be a conflict of interest?” Sejin asks him.

“Oh, well, just, y’know…” 

He looks at you, panicked. You’d made it this far, and he almost gave away your entire relationship.

“Well,” you pick up, “if we are in fact competing for tenure, and this ends up being one of the factors that, Si-hyuk, you consider in that race, then, uh, I guess Namjoon could fail Yoongi and throw me under the bus.”

“Not that I’d do that,” Namjoons says. “But that’s still a possibility. Unless,” he says, turning to Si-hyuk, “you’re willing to write down what the official stipulations for tenure might be.”

By working together, you’ve kept Si-hyuk in check. Si-hyuk will never formalize the stipulations for achieving tenure because keeping it ill-defined is to his advantage. If Yoongi fails his defense with the current committee, then everyone will know it’s because Si-hyuk just wants to keep Yoongi here for some sadistic reason, which the faculty would question and fight, and no one would get a publication out of it. If Si-hyuk bows out of the committee, Namjoon will agree to pass Yoongi, and Si-hyuk will be out another potential publication as a contributing author. 

“Fine,” Si-hyuk says, making you all stifle your laughter. “Let’s move on to the next student.”

The day goes on as usual, and just before pub trivia night, Namjoon slips into your office. He locks the door and scoops you up into a dramatic and beautiful kiss.

“Have you told Yoongi about the meeting yet?” Namjoon asks.

“He knows,” you say, smiling. “He thinks it’s stupid that we have to go through the formality of a defense, but he’s so happy to be done with revisions.”

“We’ve gotta celebrate tonight, then,” he says.

You laugh. “Definitely.”

Namjoon’s practically buzzing. You smile at him, amused.

“Why are you so excited?” you ask.

“It’s like you said in the meeting,” he says. “I mean, I’m excited for Yoongi, but this is your first PhD graduate.”

You melt into his arms and rest your head on his chest. “You’re excited for me?”

“Of course,” he says quietly.

You sigh. “That’s really sweet.”

“Let’s see if this mood sticks in a couple of hours,” Namjoon laughs.

Namjoon's right to point that out. The trivia game is as intense as ever, both of your teams tied by the last question. As far as you're concerned, you're out for blood. 

“Alright, audience, let’s see! Will it be The Neuromantics, or Synapse, Crackle, Pop this week?” the quizmaster asks, eliciting cheers and jeers from the crowd depending on who their favorite team is. And the crowd has grown in size in your most recent run. Even Jungkook and some of his fellow music majors are joining in on the fun.

“The last question is a Vocabulary question! What is the space between windows called?”

You don’t know about Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung, but you, Yoongi, and Hoseok have absolutely no clue. So, you try to piece as much of your vocabulary knowledge together. 

You remember learning the word “defenestration” during your college acceptance exam prep, and the word stuck because you thought it was one of the funniest yet sophisticated-sounding words you’d ever heard, especially given that it means throwing something out of a window. You and your geeky group of study buddies committed to telling each other that you would “defenestrate” each other when you were being ridiculous, or that if you didn’t get into your top choice university, you’d “defenestrate” yourself. Soon, you started using “defenestration” out of context in other situations just to make each other laugh secretly. When your parents ask about your trip to the mall, you tell them that they had lots of defenestrations on sale. When you go to a basketball game, you yell loudly that the referee should have thrown a flag on the play because of excessive defenestration. They’re not the coolest of moments, but to you, the joke still has legs.

You're still pitifully giggling to yourself when Yoongi and Hoseok move on to figure the rest out. "If that's right," Yoongi surmises, “then 'fenestrate' means window, right? So what prefix means 'between'?"

"Intra?" Hoseok tries. "Like 'intraoffice communication'?"

"'Intra' means within," you say. "Intraoffice communication happens within one office."

"So then it could be 'inter'," Yoongi replies.“Like ‘interpersonal’ means between two people. So… ‘interfenestration’? Is that a word?”

“I didn’t know ‘defenestration’ was a word until a minute ago, so yeah, why not?” Hoseok replies, taking a sip of his beer.

You eye Namjoon’s team. Their heads are down, and Jimin looks like he’s frantically writing something down.

Hoseok races to turn in the answer, but Taehyung sadly moseys behind him.

“Ooh,” the quizmaster says, watching Taehyung sadly mosey back to his seat, “a bit of showmanship and intrigue!”

The crowd “ooh”s along, and Namjoon turns back to you with a smirk.

The quizmaster looks at both of your answers.

“Incredible!” he exclaims. “Both teams got it right!”

“What?!” Yoongi asks, running his hands into his hair as Hoseok stares blankly at Namjoon and his team.

Namjoon and Taehyung high-five, and Jimin hangs his head with relief.

“Wow, audience, we’ve had this happen only a handful of times!” the quizmaster says, settling the crowd down. “In cases like these, we move to a new round: sudden death!”

Everyone buzzes with anticipation.

“Can I have one representative from each team please join me up here?” the quizmaster asks.

Yoongi and Hoseok look at you.

“Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re literally the smartest person at this table,” Hoseok says.

“And Professor Kim is already walking up there,” Yoongi observes.

You turn around and see Namjoon standing next to the quizmaster. He’s so brazen that he even curls his finger at you to lure you up there. You bite back a smile, but you let your hips sway with sex and swagger when you walk up, making Namjoon grin and shake his head.

The quizmaster asks you to face the audience.

“Alright, folks, sudden death rules are really simple,” the quizmaster says. “We’ve got one question, and whoever answers it the fastest wins. All you have to do is yell out the answer. Are you ready?” 

“Ready,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“Ready,” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“The last question is a Music question,” the quizmaster reveals. 

You’re behind Namjoon by one game. If you win, you’ll be all tied up again.

The crowd cheers. You see Yoongi covering his eyes, and Hoseok staring intently. Jimin and Taehyung are grasping onto each other and cracking up laughing at their chances.

“Audience, a gentle reminder not to shout the answer out,” the quizmaster says, his lips touching the mic, his voice low to wring out the drama.

A hush falls over the crowd.

This is so stupid, but your heart is beating so fast.

“And the question is… Who is the composer of the famed orchestral suite, The Planets?”

You see Jungkook’s jaw drop open and hit the floor.

You and Namjoon lock eyes. You both desperately want to crack up laughing.

But he just smiles at you. He raises his eyebrows encouragingly at you. You squint a little, wondering why he hasn’t said anything yet. 

And then you realize that he’s letting you have this one. 

You look over at Yoongi and Hoseok, who are waving their arms in the air, trying to get you to answer.

Jimin and Taehyung are sitting motionless, unsure if Namjoon actually knows what to say.

Namjoon nods at you, and you lean forward, making him smile even more.

“...Gustav Holst,” you say, with a grin.

“Correct!” the quizmaster cheers, and everyone lets out their sighs, cheers, and applause.

Namjoon extends a hand for a cordial handshake, and you accept. 

The quizmaster hands you the gift cards for the evening, and both your labs join you by Namjoon’s booth, cheering and laughing.

“I thought we had this one!” Jimin says, chuckling.

Namjoon shrugs. “My mind just went blank somehow. Can’t explain it.”

“You’re literally a neuroscientist. You can explain it,” Taehyung teases him.

You raise a finger to make a point. “Actually, a really interesting study came out where---”

Jungkook interrupts you, beaming at the group.

“Hi, everyone!” he says, as you all greet him. “That was insane!” He looks at you, then Namjoon,  and then smiles knowingly. Namjoon just shrugs again.

You look over at Yoongi, whose eyes are blank, but whose lips are set with the corners turned up just enough to let you know that there’s something similar going on in his brain.

You get a funny feeling about it.

You chat a while, but then you fall back into the rules that you and Namjoon have set. You won, so you get to leave early, and Namjoon will be rushing to meet you at your place.

And after the exciting day you’ve had, boy do you have something in store for him.

Jungkook takes your seat as you wave goodbye to everyone and head home.

You walk toward your car, thinking about which shoes you’ll wear tonight. Will they be the kitten heels? The platforms? The mules?

But your phone ringing interrupts your thoughts.

You dig into your purse, and when you pull out your phone, you see that Jin is calling you.

You think about how Jin answered right away when you called. 

So you do the same.

“Jin?”

“Come over,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I need you.”

You don’t really understand what he’s saying. It’s been so long since you’ve heard him say it.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Kyong broke up with me,” he tells you. “I just… Can you just come over? I just need to talk.”

You know this is a bad idea. You know that you have worn Namjoon’s patience thin when it comes to Jin. But a part of you feels terrible. You’re wondering if your call to Jin the night that Yoongi showed up was an exacerbating factor. When coupled with Kyong’s general uneasiness around you, you realize that you wouldn’t be surprised if it were. 

You know that this has nothing to do with you, but Jin was so quick to answer you in your time of need. You want to repay his kindness. You wonder if there’s a way you can do that without having to go to him.

“Maybe I should stay on the phone,” you say.

“Please come over.”

He sounds like he’s in terrible shape.

“Alright. Give me some time. OK?”

“OK. Call me when you’re on your way.”

You hang up, and then you call Namjoon.

After a few rings, Namjoon answers. “Hello?” It’s quiet. He must have stepped outside to take your call.

“Are you still at the pub?” you ask.

“Yeah, you literally just left,” Namjoon chuckles. “Why?” he asks, his voice suddenly eager. “Do you want me now?” he asks, ending in a low growl.

A flash of heat sears through you.

“I do,” you say, “but that’s not why I called.”

“What’s up?”

“It’s Jin.”

Namjoon sighs. “What now?”

“I’m sorry, I know,” you say. “He just called me. Kyong just broke up with him.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah.” You pause. “He wants me to go over there, and I feel like I should.”

“Wait, what? Why?” Namjoon asks.

“He was so quick to answer when I called about Yoongi a few weeks ago.”

“That’s great, but…” Namjoon says this next part uneasily, not wanting to come off as unsympathetic to Jin’s circumstances. “Doesn’t he have… y’know… anyone else to talk to?”

“No,” you say honestly. “He really doesn’t. His older brother is always away for work, and his parents aren’t really the touchy-feely type. They’re actually still upset with him for divorcing me. I’d be surprised if he’d even told them about Kyong yet.”

Namjoon sighs. 

“Look, I know this is shitty, but I’m going to try to get out of there as soon as I can. I just want to make sure he’s OK. And, honestly, I want to…” 

You clear your throat.

“I want to tell him about us.”

There’s silence on the other end. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

You feel a little offended. “Aren’t you tired of keeping it a secret?”

“I am,” he admits, “but… I mean, you’re going to tell him? Tonight?”

“Well, I want to tell him that I’m at least dating someone,” you say. “I feel like it’s important for keeping healthy boundaries. And if I tell him that, it’s only a matter of time until he figures out that it’s you.”

You soften the edges of that last statement. You both know he already suspects as much. And you aren’t sure what Namjoon will think when you share the hunch that Jungkook and Yoongi know, too.

“I’d rather we still keep it for ourselves,” Namjoon says. “But if you think it’s best to go check in on him… then I don’t think I should stop you.”

You take a deep breath. “OK. So, just to be clear… I’m going to keep this as short as possible. And I’m going to tell him that I’m dating someone. But the rest is for us.”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything, so you hope this lands.

“I know this isn’t easy,” you say. “But we were married, Joon. For three years.”

“Yeah.” His voice is tense and high-pitched.

“Listen.” You hold your hand to chest when you speak. “The thing you almost said to me. I almost said it back. I hope you know that.”

He sighs warmly.

“I know,” he says, his voice back to its usual low lull. “OK. I’ll see you back at yours later.”

“Soon,” you say.

He chuckles. “Soon.”

You drive over to Jin’s new place. As you park, turn off the engine, and open your door, you realize that you’ve never physically stepped onto his driveway before. 

You had been separated for a few months before your divorce. You still thought that all of that was just a rough patch that you’d eventually work through. You both thought the space would help. Instead, you found that the space was better. Neither of you wanted to stay in your old house, so you both got your own places. Looking back on it now, you shouldn’t have been so shocked when Jin showed up that summer with divorce papers. You were lucky that you ended up offloading your house in a seller’s market.  

You’d always stayed in your car to drop papers or belongings off. Jin was courteous enough to sell the stuff that neither of you wanted, so you never had to set foot in the house again after getting the remainder of your things. But sometimes, you found his things wrapped up in your own. Socks. Ties. Boxers. Belts. A shirt or two. A book he left behind. You waited until you had collected enough things to fill a small storage box that you took from your lab. The sad thing was that the box was less than one-third full before you really stopped finding things. You couldn’t believe that one-third of a box housed a year of dating and three years of marriage.

But then, maybe you hadn’t truly gotten rid of all of it. You are here to help him, aren’t you?

You knock at the door, and Jin opens the door, his eyes puffy and red from crying.

He leans in the doorway and sighs. “Thanks for coming.”

“Oh, Jin,” you say softly, immediately shrinking.

He grabs your hand and pulls you into the living room.

“Sit down,” he says, gesturing to the couch before he goes to his kitchen. You see that he kept a couple of pieces of furniture. A table. An ottoman. A bookshelf. Everything else is foreign to you. But it doesn’t feel weird.

He brings you a bottle of beer.

“Oh, no, I’ve already had one,” you say, watching him.

Jin looks at you with knitted brows. When they relax, he says, “Right. It’s Thursday.”

He flops down onto the couch. The argument must have just happened. He’s still wearing work clothes, his tie is loose, and his collar looks sweaty.

Jin leans forward and rubs his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees.

“How can I help?” you ask.

“I don’t even know why I called you,” he says. “I don’t know if you can.”

“Well, I can stay until you feel a bit better,” you offer.

Jin shrugs. “Sure.”

You sit down on the ottoman, careful to keep your distance.

“Really?” Jin asks, looking from you to the empty space on his couch.

“Jin, this is a little odd,” you say. “I’m guessing Kyong didn’t leave that long ago, and now your ex-wife is here?”

“Ugh, don’t call yourself that,” Jin says, disgusted. “It’s so sad and trite.”

Fury rises in your throat. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t---”

You take a deep, deep breath. You close your eyes. And you exhale as slowly as you can.

Your eyes flutter open, and Jin is staring at you. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you could stop mid-rage like that,” he says. “Usually you’d just, y’know. Unleash all over me.”

“Yeah, I know that wasn’t healthy,” you say thoughtfully. “And I want to keep things healthy between us now.”

Jin nods.

“So, in that spirit, give me an idea of what happened, but save the nitty-gritty.”

“I guess Kyong’s been feeling awkward about our divorce for a while,” Jin says. “I told her what happened, and she seemed fine until we saw you at the pub. And then we saw you at the concert. She said… well, she said a lot of things. But I think she felt insecure about meeting you. She really didn’t like it when I answered your call. She said…”

You take a breath. This might hurt.

“She said I talked about you too much.”

You feel a pain in your chest when he says it.

“What if we made a mistake?” Jin asks, hurried. “What if we rushed into this divorce and---”

“You definitely rushed into the divorce,” you say, as calmly as you can. “But we can’t do anything about that now.

“Why not?”

“Huh?”

Jin stands up and starts pacing. 

“What… what are you doing?” you ask.

“I hate this stupid place,” he says, throwing his hands up in the air. “I miss our bed. I miss our living room. I miss our stupid, leaky garage that you still resent me for not fixing.”

You bite back a smile.

“But do you miss me?” you joke.

Jin walks over to you and pulls you up from the ottoman. “Most of all,” he tells you gently.

Now you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Jin, how many beers have you---”

He moves to kiss you, but you back up, your heel catching in the gap between the floor and the ottoman and throwing you back onto it, your ass landing just inside of the edge so that you don’t fall to the floor completely.

“Jin!”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry for this. For all of it. I just want us again.”

He reaches out for you again, but you duck him and say, “I’m dating someone!”

Jin stops. He retracts his arm slowly.

He stares at you for a long time.

And then he frowns.

“It’s Namjoon, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, why do you keep saying that when I ask you whether you’re dating someone or not. it fucking matters to me if it’s Namjoon. Because then I was right about you the whole fucking time.”

You sigh, disappointed. “Don’t do this, Jin,” 

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t lash out.”

“So all of a sudden, listing objective facts is lashing out?” Jin asks, pacing around again. 

“Oh, and what facts do you claim to be listing?”

“The fact that you’ve haven’t gone a day without talking about him since you saw him. The fact that he texted you close to midnight. The fact that you kept count of his manuscripts like you were keeping count of your own.”

You shake your head. “Jin. That’s not---”

“Yes it is!” he cries out. “It is! It’s… well, whatever you said it wasn’t going to be, it is now!”

It simultaneously does and doesn’t make sense. Whatever you initially thought you and Namjoon weren’t, you are now.

“Please, please just fucking tell me,” Jin says, clasping his hands together for dramatic effect. “Just tell me if you fucked him while we were together.”

“I never cheated on you,” you say, even though it will never change his mind.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then why do you keep asking me?”

“Because each time I ask you, I hope I’ll start believing it.”

You notice that he’s slurring his speech now. You need to know how many beers he had.  It’s all starting to hit him. He must have downed them way too quickly.

“Everything was going great,” Jin laments. “When I sat down next to you at that stupid orientation, I knew I was going to marry you. I saw you, and I had no idea who you were, but I knew instantly that I was going to marry you. And we were perfect. And then that stupid tenure competition thing started. And you just changed. You ignored me. I tried to do all these romantic things. I made dinners. I bought you lingerie. I planned that trip to the winery, but then we had to cancel because you had to work. And then we went sailing. Do you remember going sailing? But it was never enough for you.”

You look at him, a mix of sad and hurt. “That’s the thing, Jin.”

He looks at you quizzically.

“I definitely had tunnel vision when it came to my work,” you say. “But I didn’t just change out of nowhere. You just said it yourself. You had no idea who I was.”

“What do you mean?” Jin asks.

“You never cared about my work,” you say. 

Jin scoffs. “Because I can’t fucking understand it! Sorry I’m not a neuroscientist!”

“No, Jin,” you say. “I didn’t know anything about your field until you spent time teaching me about it. But you didn’t care about my publications. You didn’t care why I was so driven. You didn’t care about why I was fighting so hard for tenure.”

“It’s because you’re a classic overachiever,” he says dismissively. “Anyone could see that.”

“See?” you ask. “You don’t even care enough to let me explain it myself.”

“Then explain it to me,” he spits. “Tell me why your rivalry with Namjoon was more important than our fucking marriage.”

“It’s because it’s bigger than me,” you say, starting to get heated. “Do you know how many women professors are on our staff? Two. Me, and Adora. Do you know how many women professors teach at our university? Fourteen. Out of two-thousand faculty, there are fourteen women.”

Jin sighs. “What does that have to do with us? You can’t solve that problem by yourself. Are you seriously gonna blame the gender gap for our divorce?”

You tuck your hair behind your ears and take a deep breath. 

“I’m not saying it was more important than our marriage, or than you. But I am saying that my life feels bigger than just mine. That’s why I sacrificed so much. That’s why I was so desperate to help Yoongi. That’s why I feel so strongly about tenure. But you never wanted to talk about those things. You just wanted to solve them, or let them be.”

You shrug. 

“I get that you like letting work stay at work, and I thought that showed laziness on your end, but I realize now that it’s just your preference. But I feel like you were in love with your version of me. Not the real me.” 

You fight the tears that are pooling in your eyes. 

“Even with that being the case, I was still in love with you.”

Jin looks at you softly.

“And I wanted to try and make this work,” you go on. “Believe me, I get it. I let the rivalry with Namjoon get way out of hand. But you never bothered to check in with me. You never wanted to find out who I was. And then you just showed up with those damn divorce papers. So, you should know. You weren’t the only one who felt ignored. Just like I know I’m not the only one who is still in pain.”

Jin sniffles. He grows pale.

“Jin?” you ask carefully.

He rushes to the bathroom, and you hear him throw up. By the time you reach the bathroom, he’s passed out.

You sigh. Now you know that Drunk Jin must have had more than four or five beers. Also, now you know that inside, Sober Jin knew to call you because you’d know how to take care of him. You clean him up and check to make sure he’s breathing. You prop him up against the sink and wait with him, just to make sure he doesn’t aspirate. 

You observe him closely. How there are bags under his eyes. How his skin looks so chalky and thin. Usually, he’s so full of life. 

He gets sick a couple of times, and you help him position himself over the toilet. He cries out in gibberish, but you know he’s sobbing. But after a little while, you feel comfortable leaving Jin. He seems to be sleeping soundly, and he doesn’t seem to be getting sick anymore.

You clean him up and swing one of his arms around your neck.

“C’mon, Jin. Help me out here.”

Jin is completely zonked out.

You remove his arm and kneel next to him to face him. “Jin. Wake up.” You tap his face, but he doesn’t budge.

You sigh.

“Honey,” you say sternly. You get the sense that hearing this will rouse him.

Jin’s eyes flicker back and forth under his lids.

“Honey,” you repeat, swinging his arm around your neck again. “Open your eyes.”

He narrowly opens his eyes, and then he grimaces.

“I know, I know, too bright,” you say, reaching up and switching the bathroom light off immediately. “Let’s go. Use your legs.”

He mumbles, but then he seems to understand what you’re trying to get him to do.

You bring him to his room, and you notice empty bottles everywhere. You suspect that after they fought, Jin brought a whole twelve-pack into his room to try and sleep. He must have downed one after the other, pacing around the room like he was doing. And when he drank the last one, he must have called you.

You lay him down, and you prop him up with his pillows to keep his airway clear for the night.

You go to leave, but before you do, you go get a glass of water and dig through his bathroom drawers to find some over-the-counter painkillers.

You set two pills and the glass of water on the table next to him, far enough away that he won’t accidentally knock them over in his sleep.

And then you get back in your car.

It’s nearly 1 AM by the time you get home.

All the lights are off except for one of your bedside lamps.

You walk into your room, and you find Namjoon sitting up in bed with his laptop. There’s a bowl of strawberries and a bowl of hardened chocolate on your nightstand. He even changed your sheets.

“Joon?” you ask.

He looks pissed. 

You don’t know if you have the energy.

“I thought you said you were going to get out of there as soon as you could,” he mutters.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “But I tried to leave sooner.” You take a step forward. “He told me the gist of what happened. We argued. He was so drunk. And then he got sick. I had to help him clean up and put him to bed.”

“Oh, I bet you put him to bed,” Namjoon mumbles.

“Ex- cuse me?” you ask, folding your arms.

You really don’t have the energy. But you do have the time.

“It’s almost one in the morning,” Namjoon complains, setting his laptop aside. He gets out of bed and takes a deep breath as he puts his hands on his hips. “I didn’t get a call or a text. Nothing.”

“I called you before I went over there, and I just told you everything that happened. You said you understood,” you say.

“Here’s something I don’t understand.” 

He pulls out a pair of boxers from under the covers. They’re not his.

You sigh. “Namjoon, that isn’t what it looks like---”

“So these aren’t Jin’s boxers?” he asks.

“They are, but they aren’t from---”

“Did you fuck him?”

You’re starting to get angry. “I never cheated on you,” you say for the second time tonight. How many times will you have to defend yourself? But then you remember something, and you sigh. 

“He did try to kiss me, but---”

He crumples and throws the boxers at you. They billow out, hit you in the chest, and fall to the ground.

“I didn’t let him!” you cry out. “I told him I was dating someone! I wanted to tell him it was you, and he guessed as much, which opened up a whole can of worms, but you said you didn’t want to tell anyone---”

“I’m going home.”

“Will you please listen?” you ask weakly.

Namjoon goes about his business, collecting various things that he was beginning to leave behind. He flicks the lights on as he moves from room to room. The book he was reading in bed. His toiletries in the bathroom. More books on your desk. His mug on the kitchen table. 

“There’s probably a bunch of Jin’s stuff lying around somewhere,” you say.

“Oh, good to know,” Namjoon says sarcastically.

“What I mean is that lives don’t just separate neatly into two piles” you say again. “I mean, wasn’t that the case for you? And you hadn’t even gotten married yet. Namjoon, Jin and I were married .”

Namjoon pauses and looks at you.

“Tell me that you’re 100% sure that none of your ex’s things are somewhere in your place right now, and we can end this with me taking full responsibility,” you say.

He sighs. He sets his armful of things down on the kitchen table and places his hands on the back of a chair, lunging forward slightly as he leans. His head hangs down.

“Where did you find those boxers?” you ask softly.

He shrugs. “In a vacuum-sealed storage bag.”

“Then I bet his boxers got mixed up in the wash when I put them away,” you say calmly. “I’m sorry you had to find them.”

He shakes his head. “I feel dumb. I went through your things. I shouldn’t have gone so overboard with trying to surprise you.” 

You walk up to him. It feels like you can approach him now. And when you do, he opens his arms and pulls you into a hug.

You think of Jin lamenting how each of his romantic actions went unnoticed. You felt terrible when he said that because all you could really remember was going sailing. You honestly have no idea what the other botched surprises were.

And you think of completely missing Namjoon’s first surprise, back at his place. The candles. Your favorite song. 

“I love that you were trying to surprise me,” you tell him. “I saw the chocolate by the bed. I wanted to be here. I just needed to make sure he was OK.”

“...He tried to kiss you?”

“Yes. He was so out of it. I felt bad for him.”

Namjoon pulls away a little and looks at you. “How did you feel about it?”

“I felt nothing,” you say. “When he leaned in, I dodged him. I’d never done that before.”

Namjoon strokes your hair. “That must have been difficult.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not waste anymore time thinking about it,” you say. “I did what I felt I needed to do for now, and it’s kind of on Jin to figure it out from here.” Your eyes flash up to Namjoon’s concerned face. “But I can’t guarantee he won’t reach out again. I can’t guarantee that I won’t feel compelled to help him if he hits another rough patch. I’m the only one here for him.”

Namjoon nods. “I’m gonna have a hard time with this. But I’ll try to be as understanding as I can.”

“You already have been so kind and patient. I’m so sorry to put this on you. But I’m so grateful to you for dealing with it.”

You kiss him, and he melts into you.

You’re holding back, though. You want to ask him why he still doesn’t want to tell anybody about your relationship. It’s been a couple of months, and things are going pretty well considering. People already suspect that you’re together. There’s definitely nothing prohibiting you from dating each other with regard to work. In fact, with your co-workers sharing resources and genuinely trying to help each other, it might be seen as a cause for celebration. 

But you’ve pushed him so much.

Yes, you’ve passed every test that has come your way so far. But he's tired of being triggered, and you're tired of defending yourself.

You’re afraid that if either of you are pushed any more, you’ll break.

Chapter Text

There’s a soft knock at the door. You, Yoongi, and Hoseok look up and see Namjoon standing there, grinning and holding up a bag of sandwiches.

You try not to gush too much as he walks into the lab and sets the bag down on your desk. You open it up and find that there are five sandwiches instead of the usual two.

You look up at him as he reaches in for two of the extras, tossing them over to Yoongi and Hoseok.

Yoongi looks at his sandwich skeptically before looking back up at Namjoon.

Hoseok has already torn into his. “Thanks! I was starving!” he exclaims, as he opens his mouth to take the first bite.

“Wait,” Yoongi says, holding his hand out to tell him to stop.

Hoseok pauses mid-air, mouth still open.

“What are these for, exactly?” Yoongi asks.

“For lunch,” Namjoon replies simply, shrugging.

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “But what are these really for?” he asks, looking over to you. He hates that you’re seemingly in on this. You chuckle softly as you dig in and let Namjoon explain.

“Well, I need your help,” Namjoon replies.

Yoongi frowns. “I knew it. You’ve been buttering us up for something all along.”

Namjoon looks over to you, and you just shrug, focused on quenching your hunger so that you can get through the rest of the day.

“Not really,” Namjoon responds, turning back to Yoongi. “At least, not until I bought those sandwiches.”

“What do you need help on?” Yoongi asks suspiciously.

Hoseok’s eyes are glued to his sandwich. He desperately wants to eat, but Yoongi’s palm is still up and facing him.

“A new project,” Namjoon tells them.

You and Namjoon have been riding the high of leveraging your collective brain power to whip the department into better shape. Everyone’s been inspired by the way you pulled everyone together through Yoongi’s dissertation. Professors are now not only sharing funds and resources, but ideas. Sejin is serving as an expert consultant on one of Adora’s projects, and Adora and Sejin are helping Hyo-won with additional recruitment from hospital populations using their professional networks. 

And now, Namjoon has asked if you could work with him on a music and memory study, wanting to understand how memory capacity and function differs between musicians and non-musicians, and even bringing Jungkook in to help with recruitment. It serves everybody’s purposes. Everyone’s getting more chances at publications, you’re strengthening the professional and team bonds that you have with each other, and you’re helping introduce new students to the field.

Namjoon explains the details of the project to Yoongi and Hoseok, and you fill in the details on how your previous research is setting the stage for this new data collection.

“We’ve already submitted and gotten it approved by the IRB,” Namjoon adds. You smile. It’s the fastest you’ve gotten approval on a study, and that is usually the step that Yoongi dreads the most. All the seemingly unnecessary questions. All the back and forth.

Yoongi bunches up his lips, but he doesn’t look annoyed for once. He looks like he’s thinking.

“If we already have approval, and a strong recruitment pool, this data collection would only take about a week or so, depending on schedules,” Yoongi admits.

“Jimin and Taehyung would love to learn your methods, and they’ll be on hand to help,” Namjoon says.

Everyone watches as Yoongi absorbs this information. 

He smirks.

His hand comes down and rests in his lap.

“I guess this will be my last project before my dissertation defense early next semester,” Yoongi says sadly, looking at you.

His words tug at your heartstrings. 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” you say. “How do you feel about it?”

Yoongi smiles. He looks over at Hoseok, who sighs happily and bites his room temperature but still delicious sandwich.

“I guess that’s a yes,” you say, turning to Namjoon and grinning.

It’s exciting, sharing ideas like this. You like the idea of having a significant other who works in your field. It means that you have a shorthand for almost everything. Your wins. Your challenges. Your next steps. You can share every aspect of your lives together.

But that also means it’s getting harder to keep the boundaries intact. 

You know you’re really starting to slip when Jungkook arrives for the first run of data collection. He’s becoming more and more involved in lab work, and you suspect it’s only a matter of time until Namjoon takes him on as an undergraduate research assistant. He happily sits in the EEG setup as Yoongi places the electrodes on his scalp, the conductive gel sticking the skull cap to his long hair.

“It’s cold,” he says, giggling.

Yoongi smirks as he finishes getting Jungkook set up.

“Sometimes, people want a picture of themselves in the---”

Jungkook is already pulling out his phone and taking a selfie, but he’s laughing so hard at how crazy he looks that he can’t get a good shot.

“Will you?” Jungkook asks Yoongi, who gently smiles and snaps a picture for him.

The task is simple. Jungkook just has to sit at a computer while hooked up to the EEG, trying to move as little as possible. He must spend 30 minutes trying to memorize 60 pairs of images. The images show basic household objects. Then, he’s tested on his memory of the image pairs. During the test, all Jungkook has to do is press 1 on the keypad if the pair is the same, 2 if the pair has been shuffled in some way, and 3 if the pair is new to him, meaning it wasn’t one that was studied earlier.

The hardest part about the task is not falling asleep.

Jungkook does a pretty good job until the last few minutes, when he blinks extremely hard to try and get himself to wake up. You, Yoongi, and Namjoon smile at each other as you watch him and try to stay silent. He looks so adorable, opening and shutting those wide eyes with such determination.

When Yoongi tells him that he’s done, Jungkook whips around and asks, “What’s my score?”

Yoongi laughs. “I have to sort the data,” he tells him.

“Can I watch?” Jungkook asks.

“Sure. But first, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Yoongi grabs a towel from the shelf and leads Jungkook to the back room, where you’ve installed a hair-washing sink.

You hear them talking as you and Namjoon finish cleaning up the rest of the lab and start backing up the data you’ve just collected.

“One participant down, twenty-nine to go,” Namjoon says, grinning at you.

You smile as you turn your attention to your computer, leaning over the desk and starting the upload to your servers.

Namjoon hovers near you, and you can hear him breathing heavily.

“Joon,” you whisper warningly, “we have company.”

“Mmm.”

He bounces on his heels a little, but then you feel his hand creep up your side.

“Joon.”

He sighs, and then he takes a step back.

But then he grunts a little, and he leans next to you, the computer screen reflecting on his glasses. 

“Joon, I swear.”

“What? My hands are right here.”

You look down at the desk, where he’s placed his hands. But you’re referring to the fact that he’s pressing his cock against your thigh.

“Don’t,” you whisper, closing your eyes. “I won’t be able to focus.”

“Yes, you will. Just focus on me.”

“This was your study idea!”

“I know, but I didn’t realize how distracting you’d be, looking all sexy while you put in the work,” he mumbles, his face moving closer and closer towards you.

“Seriously?”

“I am being serious. You’re looking seriously sexy.”

You giggle. “And you’re looking---”

“Oh!”

You whirl around and see Jungkook already averting his gigantic eyes. His towel hangs around his neck, and his long hair is dripping wet. It’s combed back, revealing that he’s had an undercut this entire time. You feel embarrassed for being caught with Namjoon, but you also can’t help finding Jungkook so cute, standing there, nervous and unsure.

“Uh, um, Y-Yoongi said that he washed all the gel out, and, uh,” he stammers, pretending like he hasn’t seen anything.

“Great!” you chirp, nudging Namjoon in the ribs and forcing him back. He leans his elbows back on the desk before getting fully back to his feet.

You inch away before Jungkook decides it’s safe to look back at you both. He blushes bright red.

“Well, so… are we done?” he asks.

“Yes, we’re done. Thank you so much for helping us with the first run,” you say. “This will help us make sure we’ve got all the settings right.”

“And thanks for your help with recruitment from your pals in the symphony,” Namjoon adds. “That’s also a huge help.” He stands behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. You smirk and playfully shrug him off, and he laughs at you, tickling your neck a little and making you scoff at him.

Jungkook smiles at the two of you. He doesn’t seem embarrassed anymore. He actually seems like he likes the look of the two of you together. His eyes glimmer. It’s almost as if he finds you just as endearing as you find him.

“Absolutely! I’m just happy to get to learn through participating,” Jungkook answers, his shoulders relaxing. 

Yoongi joins you back in the lab, wiping his hands on his own towel and tossing it over into the laundry hamper that you keep by the door. 

“Professor Ma is set for tomorrow afternoon,” Jungkook says. “Does that time still work?”

“Sure,” you say. “I think Jimin and Taehyung are joining you for that collection, right Yoongi?”

“Jimin is,” Yoongi replies. “I’ll show him the ropes.” He turns to Jungkook. “And then Hoseok’s meeting you, Taehyung, and the third participant. Same exact protocol.” 

Yoongi turns and sees that the data have successfully been saved on the server. 

He turns to Jungkook. “Wanna learn how we sort your data?”

Jungkook nods eagerly.

“C’mon.”

Yoongi leads Jungkook over to his computer, and he pulls up a chair so that Jungkook can sit next to him.

“We’ll leave you to it. Send us the preliminary results?” you ask Yoongi.

“Will do.”

You walk out of the lab, and Namjoon follows closely behind you. Once you’re in the hallway, and Namjoon checks to make sure that no one is looking, he pinches your ass.

You bite back a smile and slap his hand away.

He feigns innocence, and you roll your eyes with a grin.

You get to your office, and you pull him into a deep kiss as you shut and lock the door behind you. 

He sighs into you, and you get so heated that you wrap your leg around his waist, pressing your throbbing clit against his growing cock. You moan quietly, and he grunts.

“Shit, OK, I know I was playing around, but you’re going to give me a hard-on that I won’t be able to disguise,” Namjoon whispers, pulling back from you.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” you playfully tease, kissing him chastely on his lips and turning the temperature down.

He takes a few deep breaths and watches as you sit in your chair, double-checking to make sure the data has backed up to your local machine as well.

“Fine, I get it. I’ll keep it clean while we’re here,” Namjoon says, walking over to your desk and sitting on the edge, watching you work. “It’s just so hard.”

“Your cock?”

Namjoon lets out a loud laugh. “Yes, but also the fact that we have to be so clean here. We started here. And it started dirty.”

You turn back to him and smile, biting your lip when you find that his gaze has grown soft and romantic.

And then a thought creeps in.

“Do you think we still have to keep this a secret?” you ask.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows.

“We’re not breaking any rules. And I feel like, well…” You shrug. “I feel like no one would really care if we were dating. Other than the two of us, I mean.”

Namjoon nods. 

“Why did we keep it secret in the first place?” you dare to ask. 

He shrugs. “Didn’t you want to, too? All the rules?”

“When we talked about it that first day, you were the one who said you wanted to keep things quiet,” you remind him. “I was just worried that we’d let it spill over into work. It kind of seems to be doing that anyway, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing anymore. I think it actually works for us. So… can’t we change your rule, too?”

He falls silent.

You aren’t sure why.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He looks at you earnestly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just… I’m nervous about making it outwardly known or official because…” He scoffs. “It’s stupid.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not stupid.”

His gaze falls to the floor as he wrings his hands.

“Tell me, Joon. You’ve been so patient and open with me. Let me do the same with you.”

He sighs. “I just have this weird fear that if we make it official, like turn in the HR report and everything, that something will come along and ruin it,” he confesses. 

“And why do you think that?”

Namjoon’s forehead creases, and your heart lurches up into your throat.

You reach out for his hands and weave your fingers into his. You press a kiss into the back of his hand, and you peer up at him, just waiting until he feels comfortable enough to tell you.

“...The night my ex and my friend had together?” he asks, finally.

“Mmhmm?”

“I had just told my friend that night that I was going to propose,” he explains. “I think that’s why it happened. And I feel like if I hadn’t said anything, maybe nothing would have happened.”

You sigh. It all makes sense now. 

But Namjoon misreads your sigh. “I told you it was stupid,” he says, watching your eyes roam over him.

“That isn’t stupid.” You kiss his hands again. “I just hate that you’ve been carrying that around with you. But you can’t blame yourself. That wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

Namjoon nods. “Isn’t it funny to be working in this field? Cognitively, psychologically, and logically, I understand that. But I just still feel so…”

You brace for what Namjoon is about to share. He swings his leg back and forth, the back of his knee pressing on your desk, as if he’s kicking the words out of himself. 

“...Responsible.”

You shake your head. You want to cry for him. 

“I just want this to be different,” he expresses, bringing his hands up and running his fingers through your hair. “It’s already so different. I know it’s so early, but we’ve known each other for years, and… it’s just so much better in so many ways already.”

“I know what you mean,” you say, and as he strokes your hair, you rest your chin on his other knee.

Namjoon smirks. “Now, don’t do that,” he says, bringing his kicking leg to a stop. “You’re way too close to the danger zone, and I don’t know if I’ve fully calmed down yet.”

You laugh and push your chair away. “OK. Let’s put this talk away for now and just get through the day.”

Namjoon smiles at you. He leans down and gives you one sweet kiss on your forehead before he goes. 

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Thanks for being willing to share.”

You suddenly feel like a burden has also been lifted from your chest, and the unexpected release makes you wince. Namjoon notices. His eyes question your uneasy expression, though you try to smile through it.

“What?” he asks.

“It just hit me all of a sudden,” you say, your voice wavering.

“What did?”

“Well, I had asked about it before, and you always wanted to keep it secret. I thought maybe… I don’t know, I thought maybe that you were embarrassed or ashamed that you were with me.”

Namjoon’s eyes flood with emotion.

“No. Oh god, no. Not at all.”

He slides off of your desk and kneels in front of your chair, resting his head in your lap. 

“You? How could I be embarrassed or ashamed? You are good, and bright, and beautiful, and wonderful, and…”

He looks up at you.

“...And I’m falling for you.”

Your lips quiver as you form them into an overwhelmed smile. 

“I’m falling for you, too.”

He kisses your hands. He places your hands so that you’re cradling his head. 

And then he reaches for your fly.

“Namjoon,” you say, suddenly stiffening.

“Shh.” 

He pulls your blouse out from the waistband of your pants, and you rush to stop him, but he just takes your hands and places them on the back of his head again.

You sigh and look at the door. You know it’s locked. You remember locking it just a few minutes ago. But you just want to check.

And then Namjoon’s spreading your legs and kissing your stomach, tugging on your pants at your thigh. 

You laugh softly, and you hoist yourself up using your armrests. He pulls your pants down to your ankles, and he notices your white wedges.

“Mmm,” he says, thoughtfully fingering the strap around your ankle. He looks up at you. “Conundrum.”

“I can put them back on,” you offer.

He shakes his head. “No time.”

He pulls your thighs toward him, and he runs his tongue along the lines of your panties. You sigh as he flips it underneath, grazing your soft skin. And then he pulls your panties down, making you worry that you’re about to get very sweaty and sticky in a leather chair.

You stop caring when his tongue circles around your clit, awakening it. Seducing it. You bite down on your own tongue when he flicks the tip of his tongue against the tip of your clit. He’s gliding around you, and even though it would be impossible, you worry that people in the hallway can hear the mix of his saliva with your juices, wet and sloppy.

You clench your throat so that you don’t moan, but you feel your vocal cords fighting you. Your neck bulges out as you stifle each whimper and groan, and you swear Namjoon is reveling in the sight of you feeling so helpless against him. You look down at him, and there he is, smirking at you as he holds you open and swallows gulp after gulp of you.

You transform your moan into a laugh that gets choked off when he closes his eyes and starts to move his jaw against you. You feel your walls shaking, but you smile when you realize you don’t need anything else. This feels so good, the combination of what Namjoon’s doing to your body, and knowing Namjoon doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

His eyes are on you again, and you feel them waiting for you to meet them with yours.

You can’t, though.

Because you’re coming so hard, and forcing yourself to be so silent, that you have to clench every single muscle in your body. Your hands grip the arms of your chair so tightly that your knuckles turn white. He slaps his hands over them and rubs them, letting you know that he’s there, and that as torturous as this feels, he means for it to be a good thing.  A bright thing. A beautiful thing. A wonderful thing.

You finally open your eyes, and the world takes shape again.

You look down at Namjoon, breathless.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and you cradle his cheek with your hand.

Your thumb runs down his jaw, and it presses into his dimple.

And he places a kiss on each of your thighs, whispering, “I love having you like this.”

“In my office?” you whisper-laugh back.

“No,” he says, grinning. “All to myself.”

**

It’s been another long week, but at least you’ll have Friday off for a long weekend. 

The new waitress sets your beers, chips, and salsa on the table and smiles at Hoseok for the fourth time that night. He smiles back at her and watches her go, but when he turns back to you and Yoongi, you’re both mocking his dreamy gaze. 

“Alright, let’s have it out now so that you don’t embarrass me when she comes back,” Hoseok sighs, crossing his arms.

“You gonna ask her out on a date?” Yoongi teases him.

“Yeah, if you don’t cockblock---I mean, um, distract me,” Hoseok says to Yoongi, glancing at you furtively.

“Yoongi’s definitely going to cockblock you,” you say, smiling as you bring the beer bottle to your lips.

Yoongi nods and reaches for a beer bottle. 

“Why?” Hoseok frowns.

Yoongi shrugs and takes a drink. “It’s funny.”

You and Yoongi are chuckling as Hoseok starts potential running date ideas by you when someone approaches. You smile because you think it’s Namjoon, but when you look up, you scowl, because it’s not.

It’s Jin.

You haven’t seen him since the night  Kyong broke up with him. He looks better now. He’s still a bit ragged, but he could just be tired from a long day. He scratches at his neck, loosening the dress shirt of his collar a little. As he lets his hand fall to his side, he reveals that the top button is undone. You can see his collarbones and the top of his lean chest. There was a time you would have felt compelled to leave a little nibble in one of those spots.

But tonight, you roll your eyes at his smug face.

“Hey,” he says with a toothy grin. He gestures to your booth, at the empty space on the other side of you. “That seat taken?”

You can’t help but glance over at Namjoon’s table. He’s watching. And he looks livid.

“No,” you say carefully, “but---”

“So, your new boyfriend isn’t here?”

“You have a new boyfriend?” Hoseok asks in surprise, and you catch Yoongi anxiously pressing his lips into a thin, straight line.

“What do you want?” you ask, remaining seated.

“I wanted to see if I could join you all for Thursday night trivia,” Jin says. “Like old times.”

“Is Kyong with you?” Yoongi asks. Whether he means it or not, the statement in Yoongi’s deep voice sounds disparaging, and you’re a little thankful.

“No,” Jin says, curt. He keeps his gaze on you.

You sigh. “Jin, go away.”

“What? I just want to play a game. Get in on the action.”

You look over at Namjoon’s table again, and you know Jin is noticing how you keep checking in. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook are with him, laughing and setting up their answer cards, but Namjoon still looks upset.

“Start your own team,” you say, staying put, gatekeeping the empty space next to you.

“I’m only good at linguistics questions, so I’m offering my services,” Jin replies.

“We’ve had those,” Yoongi replies. “We get them right without your help.”

“Well, another brain couldn’t hurt.” Jin leans casually on the back of your seat. You know he won’t go away. He’s too stubborn.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you say, standing up. “When I’m back, you’d better be gone.”

You know Jin won’t be gone. 

But you hope, and rightfully guess, that Namjoon picks up on the fact that you’re walking past the quizmaster setting up his station and over to the bathroom to have a much-needed chat.

A few seconds later, Namjoon meets you in the hallway leading to the bathroom doors.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Namjoon asks under his breath, as you pretend to stand in line.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I told him to go away, but knowing him…”

You look at Namjoon, defeated.

“Is he really planning on staying?”

“Seems that way.”

“What the fuck?”

Namjoon leans his head on the wall. Someone flushes a toilet, washes their hands, and walks out of the bathroom.

“What do you wanna do?” you ask Namjoon.

“You’re asking me?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Well, what do you wanna do?”

“I wanna leave,” you say, “but with our entire labs here, I don’t think that’s an option.”

Namjoon sighs. “Do you think you can deal with him?”

“I can,” you say, fixing your gaze on him. “Can you?”

Namjoon’s head nods, and you feel a knot forming in your stomach.

You don’t know if you believe him.

You get back to your seat and aren’t surprised when you see Jin sitting in the previously empty seat that was next to you. You plop down and immediately stop caring about the winner of tonight’s game. All you care about is getting through it in one piece.

Hoseok stares at you, looking guilty. “He bought us a round,” he says quickly, pointing to the now six bottles of beer on the table, as if to explain why Jin is still there.

“The least he could do,” you mutter, as you sit down and shrug off Jin’s attempt to put his arm around you.

He sets his arm on the back of your seat instead.

The game starts, and though you’re luckily answering basically every question right, you get stumped by an art history question. Namjoon gets it right. The question is, “What famed contemporary artist has designed album covers for Kid Cudi and Kanye West?” When the quizmaster announces that Synapse, Crackle, Pop gets it right, you flash him a smile, and he sends you back an eyebrow raise and a wink. 

By the end of the game, you’ve tied things back up. The question that helps you get there is, “Who starred as Jo March in the 1933 film adaptation of Little Women?” Jin started talking about how many times he’s read that book, but he’d never seen a film adaptation of it, because film adaptations of books just aren’t the same. 

None of you really paid attention to his rant. You just eyed the answer card, and Yoongi slid it over as he reached for some chips and salsa. You scrawled Katharine Hepburn ’s name onto the blank and handed it to Hoseok to run up to the quizmaster, giving him a chance to bump into the waitress and set his hands on her waist to move out of the way and pass through.

When the quizmaster announces that The Neuromantics gets it right, Namjoon grins at you, and you tuck your hair behind your ears.

“Lots of pop culture-type questions today!” Jin reflects. He’s drunk, and loud, and everyone at the table is annoyed with him. “Don’t they know that our ilk hasn’t been part of pop culture in decades?”

“Speak for yourself,” Yoongi mutters, disappointed. “I finally came up with Murakami for that Kid Cudi question, and you were being too loud for anyone to hear.”

“Well, we’re all tied up,” Jin says cheerily, looking at you.

“What are you here to contribute again?” you ask, feeling lazy and a little buzzed.

“Until a linguistics question comes up, I’m offering entertainment.”

“You’re not very entertaining,” Yoongi says, deadpan.

Jin pushes his lips out. And then he smiles. “Moral support, then.”

“I’m guessing you’re not very moral either,” Yoongi replies, looking over at the quizmaster and posing his pen to get ready for the next question.

At the end of the night, you end up needing a tiebreaker again, both of your teams boosting miles away from your competition.

The quizmaster grins and says into the mic, “After a short break, I’ll need a representative from each of our star teams! Think about who you’ll send up, because our tie breaker is going to be a Vocabulary question!”

“Now’s my time to shine!” Jin replies cheers, standing and pushing you out of his way.

You sigh, aggravated. You get up, moving away as he marches up to the stage.

“Really??” Yoongi complains, his hands gesturing to Jin and staring as you let him go.

“He won’t stop,” you say, shrugging. “Best to let him tire himself out. If we win, great. If not, we’ll all share Namjoon’s gift card anyway.”

Yoongi shakes his head as you reach for the chips and salsa.

Now that Hoseok’s main duty of running the answers up to the quizmaster is over, he’s making small talk with the waitress by the bar.

“So, how will you bring about his downfall?” you ask, eyeing them and grinning to yourself. “Humiliating story? Fake rumor? Embarrassing picture?”

Yoongi snorts and wipes his nose. “I forgot about that conference with the embarrassing picture. Man, Hoseok needs to be more careful around me.”

And then he watches Hoseok and the waitress laughing with each other so easily.

“Maybe I’ll let them be,” Yoongi reflects. “They seem to be having fun.” He fiddles with his napkin. “Seems nice.”

You watch him.

“Are you excited about getting to the other parts of your life?” you ask. “Y’know. After your defense?”

Yoongi smiles. “Yeah. It’d be nice to go out on a date again.” He laughs. “Of course, you’d know all about that. With your new boyfriend and all.”

You go to challenge him, but then he laughs. “I already know about you and Professor Kim. Namjoon, I mean.”

You hide your grin as best as you can. You turn to look at Namjoon and Jin standing awkwardly beside each other, both of them not daring to make eye contact with anyone except you.

You look back at Yoongi. “Did Jungkook tell you?”

Yoongi blushes. “He did, and he went way heavy on the details. But I knew before then.”

“How?”

“The night I went to your house. I know he was there.”

You furrow your brow. You had been so careful to sneak him out.

“I recognized his car in your driveway,” he explains. “I parked on the street because it was blocking the way. And when I left, it was gone.”

You’re kind of glad someone knows, and that it was because of Namjoon that they found out. You just wish it weren’t a student of yours, even if it is Yoongi.

He blinks at you. “If you don’t mind my asking… how do you feel about it?”

You think, and you smile. “...Good. I feel good about it.”

He mirrors your smile back to you. “Good. You seem happier. It’s nice to see you back to your old self.”

You could hug Yoongi in that moment. 

His eyes rove back over to Hoseok and the waitress, who look like they’re exchanging phone numbers. Hoseok laughs nervously, and his phone slips out of his hands. He drops to the floor to pick it up, and the waitress giggles softly.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says wistfully, taking another swig of his beer. “It’d be nice to take a girl out on a date again.”

“Alright, gang,” the quizmaster announces, prompting the audience to applaud. “Rules for the tiebreaker are as such: first person to say the answer out loud wins! Crowd, you’ve been lovely, so if you know it, please don’t give it away!”

The crowd hushes excitedly, and Hoseok joins you and Yoongi back at your booth.

You all watch intensely as the quizmaster reads from his cards.

“The topic, for those who missed it, is Vocabulary! And the question is: This word could describe a famous poem by Lewis Carroll, or a famous hip-hop dance group!”

Namjoon leans forward quickly. “Jabberwocky.”

“Jabber-who-now?” Jin asks, blinking.

“That is correct! Synapse, Crackle, and Pop tie things up once more in this epic trivia saga!” the quizmaster exclaims.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook jump out of the booth and join Namjoon in their victory lap. 

Jin walks over to your booth, shrugging.

“Sorry, team,” he says. “I thought I’d know the answer right away. Did any of you know it?”

“Yes,” the three of you say in chorus.

“Well, damn,” Jin says, stretching his legs over you to sit back down in the booth, “I didn’t know all of you were fans of Jabba the Hutt or whatever.”

“We would have sent Professor Kim up there, and she would have gotten it right,” Hoseok replies.

“Professor Kim?” Jin turns to you and smiles brightly. “Y-you mean… You haven’t changed your name yet?”

Yoongi mutters under his breath, and Hoseok senses something is up again.

“Don’t read into it,” you say warily. “I’ve just been busy.”

Jin laughs. “Sure. Or maybe you just can’t bring yourself to.”

“Or maybe it might make things easier when I remarry,” you say, just as Namjoon and the rest of their team come over to your booth to gloat.

Jin frowns at your comment.

“Hi, losers,” Jimin jokes, greeting you. “C’mon. Drinks on us.”

“Great game, guys,” you say, smiling at them. “But I think I’m gonna go ahead and head out.”

“Me too,” Namjoon says quickly.

Jin looks at the two of you gathering your things and rushing out of there. You catch Jungkook’s gaze, and he smiles knowingly at you. Your heart fills, and you smile back at him.

“Me three, I guess,” Jin says, sliding back out of the booth and looking sadly at the group.

You all watch him expectantly.

“Well, thanks for letting me join in, at least,” he says.

He looks so sad. So lonely.

“It was fun,” you say stiffly, trying to help him save face.

Jin nods. And then a small smile pops up on his face. “I’ll call you later,” he says.

You roll your eyes, and before you can say anything back, he’s gone.

You don’t care what your students think anymore. Half of them already know, and the other half are probably about to find out.

You and Namjoon walk silently to your cars, Jin’s spectre hanging over you.

“What did he mean by---” Namjoon stops himself and sighs. “No,” he says, determined. “I’m not gonna let him ruin tonight.”

“You’re that thrilled about your win?” you ask.

Namjoon smiles. “Among other things.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ll see.”

He slips his hand into yours. You wonder what else he’s thrilled about. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re leaving together for once. Maybe it’s because he’s been sneaking peeks at your cute, high-heeled, red leather boots under your long, flowing skirt. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re heading to his house. Maybe it’s all of them.

When you get to his front door, you see him scampering down the steps with his overnight bag.

“What are you doing?” you ask, carrying your own overnight bag.

Namjoon smiles excitedly at you. “OK, we totally don’t have to do it, but… I kind of have another surprise for you.”

You laugh. “What?”

“I’ve planned something for our three-day weekend.”

You smile. “Wait, what??”

He takes your hand and leads you to his car. You giggle as he opens the door for you, and you slide in excitedly. He packs both of your bags in the trunk, and he gets into the driver’s seat.

“Joon,” you say, watching as he starts the car, “you don’t have to keep planning things. I love spending time with you, no matter where we are.”

“I just thought it would be nice if we could get away,” he says, sighing happily. And then he frowns. “Especially after tonight.”

You chuckle. 

And then you catch the time on the clock on the dash.

“Where are we going exactly?” you ask. “It’s already so late.”

“It’s OK. I planned it all out,” he says. And then he takes a moment to pause and look at you. Really look at you.

“Are you in?”

You smile and nod. “Of course I am.”

As Namjoon pulls onto the highway, you figure that you’re probably just going to check into some seedy motel, blow off some steam, and maybe make a little of your own. But an hour and a half into your drive, you’re falling in love with the idea of romance again. 

A couple more hours later, and you’re heading up into the mountains. You never make it up this far north, and the beautiful scenery around you is helping you to gain perspective on the stresses of your daily life. They’re tiny things, really. Everything looks so tiny from up here.

He reaches for your hand.

“You’re lucky that you won, and I ended up having to go to your place,” you say, staring out your window in awe. “What would you have done if you had lost?”

Namjoon kisses the back of your hand as he drives, and you turn to him and smile.

You remember what he said about having you all to himself.

You’re breathless. You hope that you’re enough for him.

You drive up to an adorable boutique hotel, not too big, and not too small. You can see hot tubs and springs in the back. There are beautiful sculptures on the property as well, sweeping metal shapes that extend into the sky and reflect the soft blue and purple spotlights shining onto them.

As you check in, Namjoon explains that he’d taken care of everything last weekend. The reservation. All meals through room service. You won’t have to get out of bed for the next three days, unless you want to. It isn’t exactly the hotel’s busy season, so you hope the prices weren’t too astronomical. But the way that the staff members are dressed makes you think twice.

One staff member leads you to your room, carrying your bags for you.

And then, you and Namjoon are wrapped up in each other, kissing and laughing as you navigate the unfamiliar room and hit your hips or shins on furniture that you didn’t notice was there. A table. A bench. A bookcase.

“Ow,” you complain. You’ve made it over to the bed, but not without your knee bumping against the corner of an interestingly designed lamp.

“Aw, you OK?” Namjoon laughs, bending down to rub your knee.

But before he can, you take his hands in yours, and you place them behind you, on the nape of your neck. 

He pulls you in close.

“I don’t know if I brought the right clothes,” you say, half-serious.

“Then we can just stay naked,” Namjoon says, making you giggle.

You kiss him deeply, and when he pulls away from you, his eyelashes flutter, gazing at you dreamily. 

You smirk.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, too,” you say. “It’s considerably smaller. But I think you’ll like it.”

Namjoon gives you a look. The smile you’re giving him is smoky and sultry, and he’s getting lost in your bedroom eyes. You raise your shoulder a little, tilting your head.

“Help me with my dress?”

Namjoon finds the clasp by your next and zips it down to the middle of your back. He kisses down the front of your dress, keeping pace with the tab as it travels down the track. He bends his knees and drops down to get the zipper all the way down to your ass, pressing a kiss on your mound and making you clench at the pressure. He looks up at you and tugs on the fabric. 

When your dress ruffles off of you, he sees that your leather, red, high-heeled boots don’t just stop at the ankle. They don’t stop at your calf. They stop mid-thigh, and the belt of your matching red lingerie is clasped into it.

His jaw hits the floor.

“You… you just…”

He’s dumbstruck.

“Thoughts?” you ask, subtly striking a bit of a pose.

He stutters when he speaks because he’s unable to decide where he wants to look. Everything, every part of you, looks so delicious. “D-did you… how did you---” He blinks. “Did you know we were coming here?”

You shake your head and grin slowly.

“You mean this was just gonna be for a regular Thursday?!” Namjoon cries out in disbelief.

You nod, beaming at him.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he says, wrapping you up in his arms and kissing you sloppily.

For the first time since you’ve started dating, Namjoon doesn’t know what to do with his hands. All he knows is that he wants to feel every inch of you. He wants his fingerprints all over your leather boots. He wants people to know he was there.

He runs his hands over your red bra and smiles into your kiss. He pulls away and watches your body as he undresses you, taking you in. His thumbs raise goosebumps as he runs them over your nipples. He wants to kiss each goosebump, and he nearly does until you tug at his sleeve with an impatient whine.

Namjoon laughs at you. “Sorry.”

He pulls off the sweater vest and undoes the buttons on his dress shirt, pulling it out from the waistband of his pants as you unbuckle his belt and undo his fly. He takes the rest of his clothes as he kisses you, and then he lays you on the bed, climbing on top of you. His tongue moves slowly in your mouth, taking its time. His hand matches its pace over your underwear, and your hands match their pace as they run over Namjoon’s back.

Soon, you’re whimpering, and Namjoon senses that you’re ready for him. So he kneels back and smiles down at you.

He carefully undoes the snaps connecting your underwear to your boots. He takes the waistband and drags it slowly off of you, the cold metal of the snaps feeling like ice cubes against your skin. You moan slightly as his hands run down your thighs, and you laugh when his casual toss lands the underwear on that pesky lamp. 

You laugh together, and he stares down at you. His smile shrinks from a happy grin to a font, soft smile. And he says, “I…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He’s not really sure what he’s feeling. He worries that he’s saying it too early in your relationship. You also worry about saying it back too fast. You know that’s your tendency, and you don’t want to relive unhealthy patterns with each other. That’s what you actually want to communicate to each other. Being so close to saying it, and it not being the other person’s fault for not saying it just yet.

So you sit up and press your lips into his chest. You look up at him. “I know,” you whisper. “Me too.”

He kisses you, and then he lays you back down.

He reaches for your thighs and spreads them apart.

And then he plunges into you, moving so slowly, so sensually. You don’t care whether you come, though you do, several times. You’re just so happy to be in a moment with Namjoon that can’t be truly interrupted. Your orgasms are longer, as a result. They stretch out like they have story arcs all on their own. Sometimes, they build and then release right away. Sometimes, they buzz with anticipation at first, and then raise your hairs as they travel along your nerves before shocking you with their power. Sometimes, they never quite flood your system, just under the radar, enough for you to feel cared for and warm, but keeping you present enough to watch Namjoon holds back so carefully, edging himself as far as he can go but trying to stay hard and perfect for you. 

Eventually, his eyes flash open, and his eyebrows crease above the bridge of his nose.

“Come for me,” you say, exhausted.

He nods and grunts, and then he leans down into you, kissing your neck. His movements quicken and become more protean. You close your eyes and hold on, reacting to each incredible thrust, each deeper than the last.

And then he folds into you, sweating and happy, his hands grasping your red boots so tightly that you think he might lose his fingerprints completely when he pries them off.

He pulls out of you, and you take a final, deep breath, so tired, but so fulfilled.

You hear him peel his fingertips off of your boots, and you open your eyes to see him reaching for your right leg. He extends your leg and sees the zipper behind your thigh. He lifts your leg straight up in the air, and he bends down to grab the tab with his teeth. He pulls it along the track and wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh. And then he reaches for your left leg, this time just smiling fondly at you as he pulls the tab down. As he frees each of your legs from your boots, there’s a rush of cool air that helps to calm your skin.

He lays between your legs and tosses your boots with a heavy thud to the ground next to you. And you fall asleep like that, not daring to move, not letting even time interrupt you being together.

**

The robes at this hotel are the softest robes you’ve ever worn. You can’t stop raving about them over a sumptuous breakfast that’s brought to you as soon as the two of you finish having some incredible shower sex, your wails echoing loudly on the marble walls. You and Namjoon even go so far as to search for the hotel’s partners to see who could be responsible for making them, trying to find out if they make personalized orders.

“They do!” you discover. “Ooh, let’s order a couple! These robes might have been worn and washed already.”

Namjoon laughs as you start scanning for customizable options. You don’t know, but he’s loving seeing more and more of this side of you. The brightness with which you greet a lazy day. The domesticity of it all. 

“Whatever you want,” Namjoon says, taking a sip of his mimosa.

You’re busy playing with monogram fonts when Namjoon leans forward and catches your eyes.

“Couldn’t you do this forever?” he asks.

You smile. “I very well could.”

“Listen,” he says, smiling, “I’ve been thinking. I want to get away from all the things that keep us hidden or distracted. I want to build something with you.”

You tilt your head, listening as best as you can.

“I’m thinking about leaving the university and finding a new job,” Namjoon replies.

You furrow your brow. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about tenure, and I just don’t want to be in competition with you in one aspect of my life when I’m trying to build something with you in another,” he says.

It’s incredibly sensible, but you feel like he’s left some things out of the equation.

“But the closeness that we have,” you say. “It was borne out of working within the same walls. Dealing with the same things. Understanding each others’ frustrations.”

“We work in the same field,” Namjoon replies. “And I’m just so tired of all the politics there.”

You nod. You know that each workplace will have its own politics to deal with, but you wouldn’t mind getting a break from the ones you currently face.

“Why don’t we apply for new jobs together?” he asks excitedly. “Start completely new paths? We’re already evolving our research collaborations. We could start a lab together. Be a team.”

You soften. “That sounds wonderful…” And then you take a breath. “But what about all the work we’ve done? All my goals about wanting to build a more diverse faculty, and program in general? And where would we be leaving our students?”

“We could take them with us!” Namjoon replies.

You smirk. “You want to uproot them yet again? Is that even something feasible for them, let alone something they even want to do?”

Namjoon chuckles, a little embarrassed, another example of how his excitement sometimes challenges his theory of mind. You can’t help but be a little endeared to that about him. 

“C’mon, after breakfast, let’s go tour this nearby campus. It’s smaller, but I’ve been impressed by what I’ve seen so far,” he says.

You smile and shrug. You really don’t care what you do this weekend, as long as you’re doing it with him.

You change into the sweater and jeans that you packed, but Namjoon looks a little more formal.

“Are you wearing your Monday morning clothes already?” you ask, laughing.

“Yeah, don’t you want to, too?” he asks.

You shrug. “For a tour?”

Namjoon laughs. “You’re right.” He changes into a sweater, too, but instead of putting back on his sweatpants, he keeps his slacks.

You drive farther north to a small liberal arts school. You join a tour group of current high school seniors and their nervous parents, and you appreciate how you’re learning so much about the campus without having to do any work.

“Professor Kim!” someone calls, diverting your attention away from a particularly interesting fact about the mysteriously missing head on a gargoyle statue outside of the library.

You both turn, and you smile at a woman walking towards you. She has a very pleasant face, and she seems excited to see Namjoon.

She reaches you, and you all shake hands.

“I’m Yi Baram,” she replies, “head of the Psychology department here, specializing in educational psychology. I’ve been following your work for a while, Namjoon.”

He smiles proudly.

“As well as your studies on associative memory,” she tells you happily. “You’re both so prolific. Wish we had people like you on our faculty. You’d really help us evolve our research teams.”

“Wow, that’s kind of you to say,” you say sincerely, “but your own team has been doing such great work. I loved your conference talk on changes in EEG complexity on learning styles with students who have dyslexia. Such important work.”

Baram looks like she can barely contain herself. “I was just on my way to my office to have some coffee and relax. Would you like to join me? I can give you the rest of the tour as well,” she says.

“We could do coffee,” Namjoon says, as you smile and nod. 

You spend the afternoon ambling about the gorgeous campus, with its incredible mountain views. You chat about research, like the projects that you’re working on, and how you’ve felt your work has evolved over time. Baram picks up the story about the gargoyle, too. It turns out that one student stole it as a senior prank and used it to scare pledges at his fraternity. That student is now a dean at this very same university.

Eventually, you get to her office. Her decor is multicolored, but they’re all pastel and soft. The whole place is so cozy and warm.

You’re thankful that she pours you some coffee.

“Been a crazy semester. How are things in your end of the world?” Baram asks.

“Started rough, but we’re ending the semester strong as a department,” Namjoon replies. 

You nod in agreement. “Definitely rising to the challenge.”

“What need is there for additional challenge,” Baram says, sighing. “Things are already hard for academia in the first place. We’re all trying so hard to produce good, valuable work. And then there are business-minded people who come and tie our hands behind our backs. I’ve never understood any of that. Maybe that’s why I’ve stayed here for so long. I don’t have to worry about it here.”

Namjoon smirks. “Well… we have been thinking about that very actively.”

You raise your eyebrows, unsure of what Namjoon has just said. He certainly seems to have been thinking about it actively. You, however, just thought you were making conversation at breakfast.

“Tell me,” Baram says, leaning forward, “what keeps you there?”

“Fulfilling work and classes,” he replies. “But also, to be frank,” he adds, taking your hand in his and winking at you, “each other.”

You smile a little.

“That’s adorable,” Baram laughs.

She turns to you and grins. “Is that what keeps you there, too?”

“In a nutshell,” you say, choosing to forego your usual spiel about the details of that fulfilling work. The long-term goals you have for building your influence and team. The north star that is guiding you.

“Let me ask you this,” she says, her tone changing. “What would entice you to look elsewhere?”

Namjoon looks happy and determined. 

“Tenure track, and additional funding.”

Your eyes widen. Namjoon has definitely been thinking about this longer than you’d realized.

“Interesting,” she says noncommittally, leaning back in her chair. “And very doable.”

Namjoon smiles at you, and you get an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

You try your best not to let that uneasy feeling grow. You stamp it down over a steak dinner. You ignore it during another blissful series of hours where Namjoon is making you feel like you’re losing your mind. You push it out of your thoughts as he’s wrapped up with you, drifting off to sleep, telling you about how you’re the most amazing person he’s ever met, and how he wants to be better because of you. For you. But also for himself. You even forget about it the last morning of your stay, when you and Namjoon take turns pleasuring each other, and then washing each other in the gigantic tub.

But as you get into the car to drive home, you realize that it’ll just keep coming back if you don’t deal with it.

You raise your hand to his as he’s about to start the car.

He turns and looks at you, smiling. “Yeah?”

You frown, and Namjoon knows this isn’t going to be an easy conversation to have.

“Tell me.”

“Did you call Professor Yi ahead of time?” you ask him.

You’ve seen Namjoon tell a bold-faced lie before. You know he can do it. That’s why you’re kind of glad that he doesn’t do it now. 

“...Yes.”

“How far in advance?” you ask.

“The same day I made the hotel reservation.”

“Before or after you made the hotel reservation?” you ask suspiciously.

Namjoon remains silent.

“You called Baram first?” you ask, disappointed. “Then you booked the hotel afterwards?” You share your head. “It was a setup?”

“Not a setup,” he insists. “It was just an informal interview. I just wanted to see what the options were. And I didn’t want you to read into it too much, so I thought it might feel better if it seemed like we just bumped into her. And it was great! Wasn’t it?”

“Sure, but you just assumed I’d want this,” you say.

“Don’t you?” Namjoon asks, starting to get irritated. “We both want to get away from the university.”

“Do we?” you ask. “And even if that were the case, don’t you think I would have wanted to prepare for something like that?”

Namjoon sighs. “You did perfectly. And it certainly seemed like we were on the same page about the politics.”

“I still like to know what rooms I’m going into so that I walk into them clear-eyed, Namjoon. And I said that I was tired of the politics, but I didn’t ever say that I was ready to leave the university,” you say. 

“I don’t understand what the issue is,” Namjoon confesses, frustrated. “I mean, from my viewpoint, I’ve just solved all of our problems.”

“What problems have you just solved?” you ask, albeit a tad condescendingly.

Namjoon narrows his eyes. “The fact that, as good as things are now, our department is still a hellhole. That we want to build something together. That we can’t do that where we are now.”

You look at him quizzically. “And why’s that?”

Namjoon huffs. “Because we can’t truly make a go of it until we--- Until we---”

He averts his eyes from yours.

“Until we let go of things from the past.”

You stare at him, silently. Blankly. And then you furrow your brow. The heat rises on the back of your neck. You’re seeing as red as the boots you wore on your drive up here.

“This is about getting away from Jin??”

Namjoon looks back at you. “I just don’t think we can make a real go of things until he’s out of our lives,” he expresses.

“For someone who values transparency so much, you sure do find so many ways to refuse to offer it in return,” you mumble.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that? Instead of setting up an ‘informal interview’ or whatever the hell that ambush was!”

“Oh, so now it’s an ambush?”

“I bet there was some part of you that didn’t want me going in there prepared!” you accuse, your competitiveness starting to creep up on you again.

Namjoon scoffs. “This was supposed to be about building something.”

“And we can’t build something if you don’t tell me what’s on your mind,” you explain. “I need to know how you’re feeling. You asked me to keep you in the loop. You have to do the same. You can’t just expect people to react in certain ways and then blame them when they react differently.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you did with Jin?” he snipes.

“Yeah, so I’m telling you that it’s a mistake,” you argue back, growing even more upset. “I’ve been bending over backwards trying to make this work according to your comfort level, and you still don’t believe that I’m over him. Now I realize that all you see is him. Not me.”

“Unfair,” Namjoon says pointedly. “He’s always showing up. Always calling you or dropping in. Frankly, I’ve had enough of it.”

“Do you just expect him to be out of my life?” you ask. “How many times do I have to say it -- we were married . You don’t just drop everything suddenly. It happens over time. I’m so tired of having to prove to you that I haven’t cheated when it isn’t even my behavior that’s leading you to that conclusion. When are you going to trust me?”

“I don’t know, but I cut that shit out of my life sooner than you seem to be,” Namjoon mumbles.

“Fuck, Namjoon, how many bombs are you going to drop on me?” you ask, wild and desperate. “I mean, is this what you did with your ex? Did you constantly keep her in this state of trying to figure out what’s going on with you, only to blindside her with crazy-heavy confessions? Did she have any inkling of what she meant to you, or the fears and insecurities in your mind? Did she have any insight into the future that you seemed to be building for the two you? The plan that you were building completely on your own? Did she know you were anywhere close to proposing? Because I’m fucking guessing she didn’t, and I’m fucking guessing that’s why she fucking fucked your best friend!”

You’re sorry as soon as you say it. 

You know Namjoon knows it.

But you’re both still so angry.

Namjoon takes a few moments to calm down, and then he starts the car.

By the time you’re pulling off the highway and back into your town, you know you’ll just need a bit of extra time to re-balance.

“I’m so, so sorry,” you say. “You didn’t make your ex cheat. I’m really ashamed that I said that.”

Namjoon clenches his jaw.

He grips the steering wheel and sighs.

“I’m sorry that I let all those doubts get to me,” he says back. “I shouldn’t have let all of them build up inside of me. I should have been sharing this with you all along.”

You park outside of his house, and you both go to get your bags in the back. When you walk to your car instead of his front door, he frowns. 

“Aren’t you staying?” he asks sadly, joining you by your driver’s seat door.

“I just… I don’t know if I’ll be good company to you tonight,” you admit.

He drops his bag on the pavement, and he runs his hands down your arms, trying to pull you into him.

“Stay,” he says softly. “Stay and be mad at me. Stay and ignore me. Just stay tonight.”

You shake your head. “I don’t think I’m upset. And I’m definitely not going to call or see Jin, nor will I take his calls or see him if he comes over. I just really want tonight to myself. Is that OK?”

Namjoon nods. “OK. But if that changes---”

“I know,” you say. “I’ll come find you.”

You place a kiss on his cheek and then look deeply into his eyes. It makes him feel reassured that he hasn’t totally lost you.

You’re afraid that he hasn’t.

**

The night apart seemed to have let you both cool off.

The next morning, he gives you a kiss that is more suited for your bedroom than your office, and you moan a little as he pulls away.

“I missed you,” you say, remembering how you ached for him the night before.

“Jimin and Jungkook are waiting in my office with our next participant,” he interjects. 

You whine, “Screw the data collection. They can take care of it. Let’s drive back up to the hotel and forget that I totally screwed everything up.”

“You didn’t screw anything up. You were right. But I still hope you’ll think about taking those jobs, if we get them.”

You kiss him, and as your kiss grows heated, you wrap his arms around your waist, and you press the front of your body against his.

Namjoon laughs fondly, and then he tells you, “C’mon, print those forms and bring them over. Maybe we can pick this up when Jimin takes them to the lab.”

You bite your lip and nod, frustrated that you can’t immediately act on the passion that’s building inside of you both.

“I’ll be right there,” you say.

He winks at you as he heads down the hall, and you close the door behind him.

Even though you lock it, you lean against it, just in case someone somehow barges in. You stick your hand down your pants and rub at your wet flesh, squirming desperately as your fingers caress your folds. You rock your hips against your wrist, eager to milk whatever you can get out of yourself. You want to enjoy it, but you also kind of need to get it over with. If you don’t, you won’t be able to think for the rest of the day.

You think of Namjoon’s lips on yours, just now. How soft they were. How soft they always are. You imagine his lips on your pussy, stamping a trail to your entrance before wrapping themselves completely around you. 

And then you remember how you left this office before the weekend. How Namjoon had so expertly and delectably eaten you out in that chair.

The sensation and imagery make your breath catch in your chest, and you need to let out a little gasp, like a pressure valve, lest you groan lewdly and loudly.

You almost come, but then you hear a soft knock at the door.

You grin to yourself.

“See? You can’t wait either---”

When you throw open the door, Si-hyuk stares back at you. For once, he doesn’t look irate or disappointed. Just genuinely surprised.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, “I just wanted to see if I could get a moment of your time. I’ll come back later.”

“No, now’s good,” you say, clearing your throat and feeling incredibly stupid. “Please, come in.”

You open the door wider, and you both walk further into your office. You sit at your chair and hope he doesn’t notice when you catch your hand in the bend of your knee, wiping your fingers in the crease of your pants.

He sits in the chair across from you.

“How are things?” he asks.

You used to have these kinds of chats with Si-hyuk when you first started. He would make the rounds every week. Spend some time with each faculty member. Check in. He’d listen to your frustrations. He’d answer your questions. He’d give you the kind of advice that made you feel seen.

It’s been years since Si-hyuk has sat in the chair across from you.

“Good,” you say lightly. “How are things with you?”

“OK,” Si-hyuk says. He sighs. “Well, to be honest, they’re not OK. They’re kinda bad, actually.”

You furrow your brow. What’s about to happen?

“What’s going on?” you ask nervously.

He sighs. “Nothing in particular,” he says. “And by that, I mean this isn’t meant to be any kind of particular conversation with you. But I’ve been observing our staff meetings and watching how you’ve all come together as a team.”

“We don’t mean any disrespect,” you say. “We just wanted to… I don’t know. Do more, I guess.”

Si-hyuk nods. “And for that, I want to thank you.”

You raise your eyebrows.

Si-hyuk smiles. He actually smiles. A real smile. One prompted not by malice or schadenfreude. One elicited by genuine happiness.

“I’ve had a rough time of it the past few years, since Professor Cho got sick. And I recognize now that I’ve been floundering as head of this department as a result.”

You nod. Professor Cho was the heart and soul of this department, and you know that his departure is what kickstarted all the toxicity.

“I value achievement based on metrics. I thought that if I let you all fend for yourselves, the best performers would rise to the top. But I see now that all it did was create an unhealthy environment.”

“To be fair, we did try to tell you,” you remind him gently.

Si-hyuk nods. “I didn’t listen. I’m sorry for that.”

You feel touched. 

“Well, it isn’t just me,” you insist. “Namjoon was the one who suggested we share ideas.”

“But he shared them with you first,” Si-hyuk replies. You tamp down the impulse to explain the real reason why he shared them with you first, but Si-hyuk keeps talking. “You’ve stayed very patient with me, and with everyone else. You’ve done wonders with Yoongi and helped him realize his full potential as an amazing researcher and academic. And what you said at that one staff meeting? The infamously mutinous one?”

You look nervous when he says it, but he chuckles to let you know that he’s only joking. His laugh lets you smile at the fact that you had anticipated his reaction.

“You said that if you took this collaborative approach, it would help ensure that whoever got tenure would be well-prepared.”

You nod. “I believe it.”

His eyes meet yours, and you get the sense that the conversation is shifting a little.

“I hate to put you on the spot, but I have to ask…”

You gulp. This might be it. The big question about you and Namjoon.

“Are you interviewing at other universities?”

You furrow your brow. How does he know? You and Namjoon have been so discreet.

“I know you saw Baram,” Si-hyuk explains. “She's an old friend. She told me that she met you and Namjoon there.”

You try not to roll your eyes. For as big of an expanse that exists in your brains, academia is such a small, small world.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” you explain to him quickly. “Namjoon and I were just hanging out, and it was just small talk.”

“You’re allowed to interview. You’re allowed to do whatever you want,” Si-hyuk says gently. 

But then he sighs. 

“I can’t promise you tenure. I can’t promise much right now, given what’s going on with the university. But I can promise that I heard what you said that day. And I’m out of the funk that I was in. I’m determined to fight for what is right. So, I wanted to check in and let you know that I’m throwing out the arbitrary rules that I held for the staff, particularly you and Namjoon. I’m taking another look at the tenured spot that we have open, and I’ll make my decision soon. I do hope that you’ll stay with the team no matter what happens, but if you go, know that I will be the first to write you a glowing recommendation.”

You smile.

He stands and moves to your door.

Before he goes, you say, “I’m just so glad to know that you’re still in there. I knew the real you hadn’t left. I knew he was just taking a bit of a time out. I’m glad you’re back.”

Si-hyuk smiles with a twinkle in his eye as he closes your door.

And you drum your fingers on your desk, anxiously anticipating the debate you’ll be having within yourself of whether to stay or go.

Chapter Text

You’ve always appreciated Yoongi’s presentation voice. It’s low and strong, which makes him sound authoritative. He speaks smoothly, and slowly, which makes him pleasant to listen to. And he speaks clearly, which makes him easy to understand. You complimented him on it when he gave his first conference talk, and you teased him about how different it is from his quiet half-sentences that he mumbles in the lab. He told you that while he was growing up, he had a fear of public speaking. One of his elementary school teachers noticed that he had an interest in rap music and encouraged him to practice performing his favorite rap songs for friends or family, or even the class, as a way to get used to giving presentations. That’s where he gets his flow, and you love that the research you’ve done together is part of the music that he’s making now. 

You and Hobi beam proudly at him as he finishes his dissertation presentation run-through in the faculty boardroom. He’s summarizing his final points, rounding the last base. Today’s session is just for practice, but you know that in a few weeks’ time, he’ll be celebrating a home run.

Yoongi presses the button on his clicker and advances to the last slide. It just says “END” in the middle.

“Uh,” Yoongi replies awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, “I haven’t thought about how to wrap up the thank-yous yet. But I plan on thanking everyone. Obviously. Y’know. For. Helping me. And… doing cool work and stuff?”

Hobi laughs. “You should just say that and then sit down.”

“It’s going to be great,” you reassure Yoongi, as he walks to the head of the table and presses his palms onto the surface.

“Is the part about the interactions in the fourth hypothesis clear? The directionality gets confusing,” Yoongi replies, tapping his pinky on the table.

“That part was fine. I took some other notes, but they’re all minor,” Hobi offers.

“Agreed. Honestly, this is some of the best work you’ve done, and it’s a fantastic presentation to boot,” you reply.

Yoongi smiles and says a very small, very humble, “greatthankyou.”

You, Hobi, and Yoongi are all just sitting around the table, grinning at each other.

And then you say, “Alright, guys, with the year wrapping up, I just want to say---”

“No,” Hobi complains, at the same time that Yoongi groans and says, “Don’t.”

“What?” you ask.

“You always get so sentimental,” Yoongi says, rolling his eyes.

You smirk. “And what’s wrong with being sentimental?”

“Nothing,” Hobi says, “except that you always say something really nice, and we always end up crying like babies for no reason.”

“There’s a reason if I’m saying something about it,” you insist.

Hobi props his chin up with his hand. “You’re really going to sit here with us, in the faculty lounge, at the end of Yoongi’s graduate school experience, and make a circular argument?”

You laugh, and Hobi and Yoongi smile at you. 

“Good point,” you admit. “Maybe best not to say anything at all, then.” You grin sheepishly, feeling a bit lame.

Hobi and Yoongi exchange glances in the silence.

“...Well, I mean, you could boil it down to the essence, maybe,” Yoongi says uncomfortably.

Hobi nods and adds, “LIke, we didn’t mean that we didn’t want you to say anything …”

You roll your eyes playfully and start to pack up your things. “No, no, you’ve made it clear. Save the sentimentality. Gotcha.”

“Well, but,” Hobi persists, raising his eyebrows and looking over to Yoongi.

“Enjoy your break!” you say as you stand, shouldering your bag and holding the final draft of Yoongi’s dissertation in your hands. 

“Wait,” Yoongi replies, raising his hand and getting to his feet.

You and Hobi watch him as he twiddles his thumbs, trying to get the words out.

“Just… I…”

He clears his throat and looks at you and Hobi. “I guess I’m planning on saying, like, I wouldn’t be the person I am today without having been a part of this group. And, uh, I’m going to carry that with me, happily, wherever I go. It’ll be the first thing anyone knows about me. It’ll be the thing I pass on to others.” And then he looks you in the eye. “If I can be a fraction of the professor and mentor that you are, then I’ll consider myself incredibly lucky.” 

He shrugs shyly. 

“Something lame like that or whatever.”

You smile softly at Yoongi, incredibly touched, tears pricking at your eyes. You didn’t know that when you got into this line of work, you’d become so attached to the people you worked with. You hadn’t really had that deep of a connection with your own lab. And you’re so excited that you’ve fostered that here. It was the one missing element that you always searched for.

Hobi smiles up at Yoongi. “Yup. That. You should say that in your thank-yous.”

Yoongi and Hobi laugh, and your heart is so full that you feel like you might not be able to make it back upstairs to your office. 

You chat a little longer about the plans that everyone has. Holiday breaks aren’t really the same for your breed. Both Hobi and Yoongi will still be on campus to finish data collection and analysis for your music and memory project with Namjoon and his lab. And you’ll most likely spend every day in your office, trying to catch up on manuscripts and running secondary analyses. Whenever you tell your family about your non-breaks, they chastise you for not coming home or taking time for yourself. But they don’t understand that this is about returning home. It’s a celebrated return to the time on campus that you three and others like you enjoy most: when things are quiet, softened by snow and cold, and free of anyone’s concerns but your own. No students. No real deadlines. No noise. It is the ultimate self-care for a researcher, focusing on your life’s work, unfettered and unabashed.

Interestingly, Namjoon takes a different tact.

“Are you kidding?” he laughs. “I’m not coming to campus at all. We can work from home, y’know.”

The two of you are in his office, just chatting. You grin at him leaning back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, and his body slowly turning side to side. 

“Sure, but don’t you feel different working from home?” you ask, your eyes shining. “Grading or reading is fine, but when you’re sitting there at your desk, working with the data, don’t you feel… I don’t know… sharper, somehow?”

Namjoon shrugs. “I dunno. I feel about the same wherever I work.”

You sigh. “Different strokes for different folks, I guess.”

Namjoon leans forward, folding his hands on his desk and looking at you. “Hmm. Well, speaking of strokes…”

You laugh and gesture to Namjoon’s wide open door.

Namjoon wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I can’t with you,” you giggle, standing and walking over to the door.

“Fine then,” Namjoon says playfully, turning back to his computer.

But then, he hears you close the door and set the lock.

You turn to him and smile naughtily.

He bites his lip and gets to his feet.

You walk over to him and kiss him gently. Namjoon smiles into your kiss, deepening it as he cradles your face in his hands. And then he says, “Hang on. This is a sweet kiss.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Are you getting all mushy on me?”

“Why is everyone giving me shit for this today?” you ask, laughing as Namjoon kisses your neck. “It’s the last day of the semester. I can’t get a little mushy and take stock of how crazy of a semester it’s been?”

Namjoon tickles your stomach. “Someone gave you shit for this earlier?”

“Yoongi. During his practice presentation.”

“Funny. With how sentimental and protective he can get with you, I would have assumed he’d have a few words to say of his own.”

Namjoon’s hands slide into the waistband of your slacks, and you feel tingles all throughout your body. He runs his hands up and down your sides, caressing each of your curves, his skin gliding easily over your silk top.

“He did, eventually,” you say, just now seeing the parallels between Yoongi and yourself.

Namjoon kisses you again, and you fully sink into his touch, telling him that you’re easing off the burdens of the day and finding your way back to him.

“So why did you get all mushy in the first place?”

“Just felt proud, I guess. Excited for him to be done at the beginning of the next semester.”

“And why are you feeling mushy now?” Namjoon purrs. He takes your hand and places it on his hardening length. “Because I’m anything but mushy at the moment.”

You let out a small moan and click your teeth at the feel of him. And then you look up, into his eyes, and smile.

“Well… we’re here. In your office. In each others’ arms. This is where it all started. How could I not be mushy?”

Namjoon wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up. He places you on his desk, gently. He kisses you as he unbuttons your shirt, and you hold onto him tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck, and your flesh warming quickly for him.

“But isn’t it wonderful,” he tells you, “now that we can do this anywhere.”

You smile to yourself and wrap your thighs around his waist as he works, kissing down your exposed chest.

Your eyes flick over to the window, and you remember the light streaming in from that first morning together. Your eyes move over to Namjoon when he raises your left leg, looking at you the same exact way he did the first time, biting his lip at your suede, violet block heel and positioning you just the way he wants you. 

But then your eyes flick over to his computer screen.

You don’t mean to read it. You just happen to see it.

An email from Professor Yi Baram, welcoming Namjoon to their university.

“Anywhere?” you ask.

“Mmm. Yeah.”

“Joon?” you ask in a whisper, as he’s reaching for your fly.

“Yeah?” he asks dreamily, kissing your collarbones.

“What… what is…” 

You push him off of you.

Namjoon meets your angry stare with a confused look. And then he follows your eyes to the screen.

He isn’t saying anything. You aren’t saying anything. You don’t know what to say. You wonder what Namjoon’s excuse is. So you sit there, and he stands there, both of you just looking at each other.

You fold your arms. You wonder if it would help to prompt him. Jog his memory. “You were saying that we can fuck anywhere, huh? Like in your new office? When were you going to tell me? As you were moving in? As you were fucking me in it?”

“I had just gotten the email when you came in,” Namjoon answers slowly, trying to get you to calm down. “I was going to tell you tonight. I was trying to think about what to say.”

You look up at the ceiling. Now that he’s told you that, you don’t know if it’s fair for you to be upset. But you can’t see past your pain in the moment.

“Baram mentioned that you hadn’t sent in your official applications yet,” Namjoon says. “Why not? At this point, it seems like it’s a formality. It seems like---”

“I can’t do this right now,” you decide, re-buttoning your blouse and stuffing it back into your pants. 

“What are you talking about? It’s the end of the day. The end of the semester!”

“Yeah, well, I owe Yoongi some edits.”

Namjoon wants you in his arms, but you shirk his reach. He looks a little hurt when you do.

“I don’t understand,” he says, softly. “The staff meeting yesterday… Si-hyuk already made it official. Sejin is getting tenure. Which you and I both said was only right and fair, given his seniority.”

“Definitely.”

“Then what’s the point of us staying here if that’s the case?”

“Si-hyuk also officially put us on the tenure fast track plan that he’s proposed and gotten approval for,” you remind him. “Baram can’t necessarily guarantee that you’ll get tenure any quicker there than you could here. And Baram might have some money, but she certainly can’t afford to bring us both on plus all of our grad students.”

Namjoon scoffs. “You expect me to make life decisions based on Jimin and Taehyung? They’re grad students. They can figure out their own path. Didn’t you have to, when your mentor left?”

“Yes, I did, and it was miserable! I never want to put a student through that if I can help it,” you argue.

“You wanna talk about being miserable? Who’s to say Si-hyuk doesn’t change his mind next semester?” Namjoon presses on. “Who’s to say Si-hyuk doesn’t start throwing out impossible standards, forever dangling the carrot while we starve?”

You shrug. “Even with all his recent faults, I believe him when he says that he’s changed.”

“One heart-to-heart conversation a couple of weeks ago, and you’re willing to believe him?”

“Yes,” you say. “And I’m willing to bet on him. Because he believed in me, and he was willing to bet on me. He hired me when I was completely green. He was so understanding with Yoongi. And it’s not just that one conversation. It’s the way he fought for the fast tenure track plan and got it approved. It’s the way that he redid our budget. He’s recognized that he needs to do better as a leader, and he’s communicated and taken clear, measured steps to fix all the things that---”

“Ugh,” Namjoon groans, “don’t start with the transparency thing again.”

“But I want that transparency,” you insist. “I told you that upfront. How do you think this feels for me? I didn’t even know you were sending in the official materials yet!”

“But I sent the materials to you!” Namjoon exclaims. “Weeks ago, I sent you all the forms, and even filled out some of the standard ones ahead of time for your application!” 

You hang your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I know, but I---”

“Since we last talked about the transparency thing, I’ve taken action. Maybe I haven’t made it all the way there, but I’ve taken steps, too,” Namjoon asserts.

You nod. “You have. You really have, and I appreciate that. But---”

“But nothing,” Namjoon says, holding your feet to the fire. “I’m the one who needs transparency now. I need to know what you’re thinking. So, get ready. Because I’m about to ask you.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and looks right into your eyes, slicing right through you. He takes a breath, and you match him.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asks.

You can’t believe what’s about to come out of your mouth. You can’t believe it because any other time Namjoon asked you this question, in any other context, you would say yes before he could even get the sentence out.

“No, I don’t,” you say, heartbreakingly.

Namjoon takes a step back from you.

You watch each other quietly.

“Well, then… so… what do you want to do?” Namjoon asks.

“I want to stay and finish what I’ve started,” you say. “I want to stay and see my work through.”

Namjoon shakes his head sadly. 

“I meant about us. What you want to do about us.”

As Namjoon stares at you with that pained, heavy look, you can’t believe that you let it happen again. You’ve chosen for yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly.

Namjoon looks like he wants to say something, but you stop him.

“Just… Can you give me some time?” you ask. “Let me just… I don’t know. Sort out my thoughts.”

Namjoon desperately looks like he wants to finish his own thoughts, but he lets you walk out the door.

You quickly gather your things from your office and slip out of the building unnoticed. You text Yoongi to let him know that you’ll get to his edits over the weekend. 

Tonight, you just need time to yourself.

You realize that you haven't really gotten much time to yourself over the years. There was always something going on at work. And there were just a few months between Jin and Namjoon. And you had been with Jin for some time.

You wonder if you’ll need more than just tonight to think things through.

As you rush down the sidewalk, you notice that the afternoon graduation ceremonies are letting out. There’s about to be a wall of traffic of students and their loved ones, both on the campus grounds, and on the road. You chastise yourself for not leaving campus when Hobi and Yoongi did earlier that morning, but you press on anyway, preferring to sit in your car than brood in your office.

A familiar face finds yours, and the body that it belongs to runs over to you happily.

Jungkook beams at you, moving the graduation cap tassel out of his eyes.

“Oh!” you say, surprised. “Jungkook! I didn’t know you---” Flustered, you resort to forcing a smile. “Congratulations!” you say excitedly. 

“Thanks, Professor!” he says. “I was hoping I’d see you before break started.”

“You graduated a semester early?” you ask.

Jungkook nods proudly.

“Well, that’s amazing. Congratulations, again,” you remark. “Any fun plans for your celebration?” 

“Vacationing with my parents, mostly,” Jungkook replies, but he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. He smiles again, though, when he says, “But I wanted to tell you that this isn’t the last that you’ll see of me!”

You chuckle at the way he’s phrased it. “Is that a threat?”

“No!” Jungkook exclaims worriedly, and he cocks his head to the side and shakes it, reproaching himself, always seeming to put his foot in his mouth when you speak to each other.

You smile. “I’m kidding. I’m glad we’ll see each other. But what did you mean, specifically?”

“I’ve just dropped off my application to join Professor Kim’s lab,” Jungkook says excitedly. 

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh!”

“I may have graduated from the music program early, but I’ve decided I’d like to re-enroll for another couple of semesters to get my psychology credits and apply to graduate school,” Jungkook explains. “All of Professor Kim’s mentorship, and your words of advice, helped me so much in making the decision. I filled out the form for Professor Kim’s lab and left it with Jimin earlier today. I’m really excited! Maybe we can continue the work we started with our music and memory project!” 

Jungkook adorably bounces up and down in place, his hands balled up into little fists. 

“I don’t exactly know where this will lead for me, career-wise and all,” he tells you. “But I’m really excited about it!”

Your heart sinks, and you aren’t sure how to move forward from here. It’s not your lab. Jungkook isn’t your student. Namjoon’s departure is not your news. But you feel responsible somehow. It’s already starting to eat at you, having information that someone might need to determine the course of his life. 

You decide to play it safe and say, “It would be amazing to get to continue to work with you. Once you’ve spoken with Professor Kim, let me know how I can help. OK?”

Jungkook grins happily. “Sounds good. Thank you so much.” 

You extend your hand for a handshake, but Jungkook wraps you up in his arms, a warm hug that you weren’t expecting, that you know you needed, that you didn’t want to burden anyone else with, but that for some ineffable reason, Jungkook has volunteered to give you. He smiles happily as he pats your back, and you’re desperately trying to keep from sobbing into this poor boy’s arms.

Tears are pooling in your eyes as you pull back and look at him.

Jungkook’s eyes widen with concern when he sees you frowning. “Sorry! Was a hug too informal or---”

“No, no,” you say quickly, wiping the tears away and forcing another smile, wondering how Jungkook’s face always seems to be plastered with one of his own, “I-I just always get sentimental at the end of the year. Ask Hobi and Yoongi. They hate it.”

Jungkook chuckles and says, “I’m sure they tease you for it, but they wouldn’t seem like the types to outright hate it.”

You chuckle. “Maybe.” You notice that Jungkook’s parents seem to be heading your way, and you desperately need to leave. You definitely can’t handle a conversation with parents right now. “I think your family’s ready for you,” you tell him. “Have fun with them over the break. It’s been such a pleasure getting to know you, and we’re all so proud and excited for you.”

“Thanks, Professor!” Jungkook says, as he waves goodbye and re-joins his family.

You continue your trek back to the parking lot, but you see more students crowding around, taking pictures all around campus. You can’t help but sigh for the millionth time on this incredibly frustrating day. It’s going to take an eternity to get to your car, and forever to get home.

You whirl around to see that an even bigger mass of students has started spilling out from other buildings.

You feel like you want to give up.

So you decide to head to the pub.

You feel completely alone as you navigate the sea of black robes. Your mind is still racing from your conversation with Namjoon, and you’re thinking about everyone who will be affected by his absence. Si-hyuk, and the rest of the faculty. Jimin. Taehyung. Jungkook.

You.

You wonder what Namjoon meant by his question. You’ve made it clear that you want to stay here, and that’s what you’re going to do. Truth be told, you had never really seriously entertained the prospect of leaving.

So, what do you want to do about your relationship with Namjoon? 

You aren’t sure what he means by the question. You know you probably should have stayed to talk it out. You’re usually the person who stays and talks it out. You think of Jin and how he was so quick to cut and run before you could take the time to really work on things.

But you also knew that you and Jin were over. 

And you knew that you wouldn’t have been able to handle that conversation with Namjoon in the moment. Not after being surprised by that email, and not after being slammed with another red flag issue of transparency.

Still, you keep circling around Namjoon’s question. Is he asking if you’re staying together or breaking up? If you stay together, how will it work? How often will you get to see each other? Is it going to be a life full of phone calls, video chats, emails, and texts? You had become so accustomed to being in his incredible arms that you aren’t sure if your feelings for him could exist in any other way. And you aren’t sure if he would be comfortable either, especially with his jealous nature. Would you constantly have to explain where you were going, or where you’d been? How could you do that from four or five hours away? You barely have enough time to eat lunch. You hadn’t even had lunch today, on the last day of the semester. Where will you find an extra ten hours a week, just to get to him, let alone spend quality time with him?

And if you’re breaking up, well… 

…You don’t want to think about that. Mostly because there isn’t anything to think about. It would just be finished. And then you would feel it again, the pain of closing something that you weren’t ready to close yet, devastated beyond belief, twice in one year.

Even so. 

Having done it in a more severe form earlier that year might help.

You could do it again if it meant achieving the goals you had set out for yourself.

You hate having to mull this over. You hate that Namjoon is leaving. You were just starting to find a good balance. Rhythm. Harmony.

So, you decide to stop thinking about it altogether, because the more that you think about it, the more that the practical side of you is starting to take charge. 

And the practical side of you is the one who finally, albeit unceremoniously, opened a bottle of whiskey that was a present from your wedding, sat on the couch, and signed the divorce papers for Jin.  

You enter the pub, and it feels weird to be there on any day other than a Thursday. It’s virtually empty, for one. But it is still a bit early in the day. And it’s starting to offer the kind of solitude that you were hoping for back home.

You sit at the bar and set your things in the chair next to you. 

The quizmaster walks up and smiles at you.

“Hey there, Professor!” he greets you, and you shake hands. “Happy end of semester!”

“Absolutely,” you say warily, sighing with a sheepish smile. 

“What can I get you?” he asks. 

“Whiskey?” you ask. “And, if it’s not too early for dinner, whatever your special for today is.”

“How about I whip you up a steak?” the quizmaster responds. “Comes with a side garden salad and a bowl of mushroom soup as well.”

“Sounds perfect,” you respond. “Medium, please. Thank you so much.”

The quizmaster grins and scurries off to get started on your order.

You lazily watch one of the TV screens playing the news in the background, and the quizmaster returns with three fingers of whiskey.

“By the way, your order tonight is on the house,” the quizmaster replies, setting the tumbler down on a coaster. 

You smile at the unexpected surprise, and the quizmaster chuckles. 

“I think we owe you ten more meals on the house at least , with the amount of business you all brought in this semester,” he replies.

You laugh. “Glad we could be of service.”

“What’s next semester looking like?” he asks, handing you some silverware. “You’re still all tied up.”

You almost launch into a speech about the decision that faces you and Namjoon at this very moment, but you just shrug and admit, “I don’t know.”

“Well, if we don’t see your teams again, it was a helluva run,” the quizmaster replies, smirking at you and heading back into the kitchen. 

“It really was,” someone says from behind you.

You turn around and find Jin standing there, looking a little tired and unkempt.

It’s unexplainable, but you’re actually glad to see him.

“Can I sit?” he asks.

“Depends. How many of those have you had?” you ask, looking at his beer bottle.

“This is my first,” Jin says, looking at you knowingly, and a bit embarrassed.

You turn back around and lean on the bar, and Jin takes your lack of vehement protest as a sign that it’s OK to join you. He sits next to you, and as you watch him get comfortable, you wonder if you need to text Namjoon about this little social visit.

But then you take a sip of your whiskey, and you set those thoughts aside.

“You look great,” Jin remarks.

“You look like shit,” you say.

Jin laughs. “I was up all night catching up on grading.”

You scoff.

“I know,” he admits, grinning. “I really missed having you around this week. You were always so organized about getting grades in on time.”

You think of heroically staying up late and grading Namjoon’s exams during midterms, and your stomach folds into knots.

“Is that what you miss?” you ask him, annoyed.

“It’s not all I miss,” Jin says softly. You see his hand flinch, like he’s about to reach out for you. But he keeps it on his knee.

“You OK?” Jin asks, and you’re mad at him for it. Mostly, you’re mad that he can still tell when you’re upset.

“No,” you confess. 

“And why’s that?” Jin asks.

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

He looks around. “Where’s Namjoon?”

“Not here.”

Jin grins. “So it has to do with him?”

“I wish you’d stop prying,” you tell him, turning fully to him. “The stuff that’s going on with me? The stuff that’s happening in my life? No longer your concern. You made your choice extremely, even lawfully, clear. You’re officially off-duty.”

Jin watches as you take another sip, and then down the rest of your whiskey before setting the glass back on the coaster and pushing it slightly away from you, facing the bar again. He laughs slightly when you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head back and forth.

“I hope that doesn’t come right back up,” Jin jokes. “These are my only clean clothes.”

“Please go away,” you say, already exhausted.

“See, the thing is, I can’t go away,” he goes on. “Just like you will never go away.”

“I could go away,” you mutter, thinking about Baram’s email. 

“No, you couldn’t,” Jin replies. “You could move. You could leave the country. You could leave the planet. You’d still be etched in here.” Jin presses a finger to his temple. “And in here.” Jin covers his heart. “And I know that in some small way, it’s the same with me.”

“Whatever,” you say, burying your head in your hands. You don’t want to tell Jin that he’s right. You’d essentially told Namjoon the same thing the night you came home from tending to Jin in his drunken stupor. That there’s still a connection. It’s no longer romantic, but when you’ve spent time with someone like that, they just become a part of you. If Namjoon really wanted to leave because of work and tenure, you could understand. But, as unfathomable as this is, it actually hurt you that he wanted to erase that connection with Jin.

You feel yourself start to get emotional again. You just want some peace. You don’t know why the world can’t give it to you. 

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Jin asks softly.

Keeping up the pretense takes so much energy, and you have so little left.

“Yes,” you say meekly, starting to open up.

When you admit it, Jin momentarily looks like his heart is shattering. Like he’s losing you all over again. But then he takes a deep breath and stares at you.

“Would it help to talk about it?” he asks.

You shrug. “It’s all… so… messy.”

“I’m a mess,” Jin replies. “I’ve been a mess. I have expertise now. Maybe now’s the time for this conversation.”

You eye him, and he smiles. 

“C’mon, hon,” he says comfortingly. “What do you have to lose, talking to me?”

Though you’d never admit it, your heart warms slightly at hearing his nickname for you. You wonder if he can truly be there for you, like the countless times you’d been there for him.

“Alright,” you say, taking a chance.

The quizmaster comes back to refresh your drink, and you order another steak for Jin.

Talking about Namjoon is surprisingly easy. You rehash the details, leaving out the more intimate parts to spare your ex-husband any awkwardness. You reinforce that nothing happened while you and Jin were together, but you do talk about the depth of the feelings you have for Namjoon. You share how unexpected it all was. How giving and supportive he is. How tricky the jealousy became. How, though you still have doubts about exactly how you will grow together, that you still want to. You talk about the rest of the night that you spent at Jin’s. The vacation in the mountains. The unexpected visit with Baram. And you bring him up to speed on the last disagreement that you had just hours before, when you left Namjoon’s office and had the persistent feeling that another breakup was hopelessly on the horizon.

Jin also listens surprisingly well. He doesn’t say anything as you talk, except once, just to tell you that you have some lettuce in your teeth. A handful of times, he looks like he wants to say something, but he chooses not to, even when you offer him an in. And by the end of your explanation, Jin still takes a moment to let you collect any remaining thoughts and share them.

You’re both on your last drinks for the evening, some coffees to sober you up, when Jin finally speaks.

“...Yeah, that’s tough.”

You roll your eyes. “Gee. Thanks.”

“I’m going to say more,” Jin says with a sad grin.

You take a sip of your coffee and watch him from over the lip of your mug.

“First of all, I want to say sorry,” he replies, looking at you earnestly. “I can’t imagine all the stress that I added with all my nonsense.”

You stare at him. He looks like he really means it. So you go with it.

“I was really worried about you,” you tell him, letting your guard down a tad.

“I know,” Jin admits. 

You nod and look like you want to say something more, but Jin cuts you off.

“But this is about you,” he says. “And I have to say, from an outsider’s perspective, it’s not as hopeless as you seem to think it is.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, already writing him off in your mind.

“You’ve never thought anything was hopeless,” Jin says simply. “Even with me. You were always willing to try. I mean, look at us right now. We’re talking. You were willing to give this conversation with me a shot. You believe the best in people.”

You think about what you told Namjoon earlier, about how you were willing to bet on people who bet on you.

“I guess,” you say.

“That’s another thing,” Jin says. “You never guess. You know. You always know what to do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I mean that you always know what feels right for you. And you’re also keen to adapt it when it no longer serves you.”

You think about Jin’s take, and you realize that he’s right.

“That’s true,” you say, looking over at Jin with amazement.

He laughs. “What? You can’t be surprised that I actually know something about you.”

You don’t ask, but you wonder if this is a remark on what you told Jin the night he called you over. That even though you claim that Jin never really got to know your personality, he still learned about you as a person. You felt like the divorce had thrown you off the cliff into an ocean of negativity, and you were so busy surviving that you had forgotten so much of the good stuff. The real stuff. The real Jin. How patient he could be with you. How fair he was when you would talk things out. How sweet he could be when you really, really needed it.

Jin finishes his coffee, and then he stands.

“It’s late,” he says. “You should get some rest. Sleep on it.” He looks at you. “Are you OK to drive home?” 

You nod sadly, and Jin grins.

“Don’t be sad. Not for too long, at least. You’ll figure it out, hon. And if you need to talk it out more, I’m just a phone call away.”

He leaves, and you swivel back around to lean on the bar. You trace some shapes on the wood with your finger, playing with the condensation that has dripped down from your long-empty glass of whiskey.

And then, you rush to your feet.

You dart outside and meet Jin just on the other side of the door.

“Jin? I just---”

He turns around, both of you surprised. You weren’t expecting him to be right there.

“Hey, it’s cold!” he exclaims. “Where’s your stuff? Your coat?”

You stare at him as he watches you, a bit confused, mostly concerned.

And then you frown and hug him, hard, burrowing your head into his chest.

He chuckles softly and wraps his arms around you. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, and you wipe a couple of tears away before they stain his shirt.

You pull away, and you look at each other again.

“Thanks for listening to me,” you tell him.

“Anytime,” he says. “I mean it.”

You sniffle, and Jin wipes at your nose with his sleeve.

“Look,” he says, his breath fogging in the cool air, “I know we aren’t in love anymore. I wish we were, because you…” 

He pauses painfully. He gulps his words down. It looks like there are so many of them, given the effort it takes. And then he looks at you with a sad but still so charming smile. 

“Even if we aren’t in love, and even if we aren’t on the best of terms, I’m still going to care when you’re hurting. I’m still going to want to share in your happiness. I’m still going to be here to listen to you, whenever you need it.”

You take a deep breath, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I think I’m always going to love you,” he tells you, looking into your eyes. “That will never fade.”

You nod. “It won’t. It’ll always be there. I think I’m… I’m always going to love you, too. In our way.”

Jin smiles. “Do me a favor?”

You look concerned, but then he says, “Text me when you get home. Just tonight. Just so that I know you’re OK.”

You’re stunned. Tonight, he sounds so much like the Jin you met all those years ago. 

“Sure,” you say.

He wipes at your face with his sleeve again, and he cups your chin in his hand, raising it up to make you stand a little taller, and look a little prouder. 

And then he leaves.

You go back inside, gather your things, and head out. 

Now that it’s late, everything feels so empty.

Campus.

The parking lot.

Your car.

Your house.

You text Jin like you said you would. He reminds you to get some sleep.

And then you get another text a little while later.

From Namjoon. 

You wander around your house, making tea, eating snacks, and staring at his words.

Kim Namjoon (12:47 AM): You asked for time. I have all the time in the world. Call me when you’re ready.

**

You still don’t know what “ready” means, so you decide not to respond until you do.

The holidays come and go. You barely remember what time of year it is because you stick to your usual schedule. Yoongi and Hobi, of all people, remind you when they invite you to a couple of parties happening on campus. You bow out, horrified at the thought of attending a grad student party as a professor, but you thank them for an incredibly sweet present: a charm bracelet that has meaningful keepsakes strewn about it. A laptop. A graduation cap. A pair of glasses. Even a little brain.

And a sandwich.

You’re gazing at the bracelet, still in its box, while you watch the New Year’s Eve countdown.

As you’re playing with the delicate charms, Namjoon sends you a text, not even one full minute past midnight. 

Kim Namjoon (12:00 AM): Happy New Year.

 

You can’t help but smile to yourself.

You (12:00 AM): Thanks. Happy New Year.

Kim Namjoon (12:00 AM): I’m starting off my new year thinking about you. And missing you. 

You don’t know what to say back, but it helps to see it written out.

Even though you’re on campus every day throughout the holiday break, you aren’t quite sure when Namjoon’s office is cleared out. You suspect Jimin and Taehyung do the bulk of the work. 

You see Jimin and Taehyung now, heading down the hall with a participant for the next wave of research, which will build on the previous music and memory study that you’re now writing up for a manuscript.

“Morning, Professor,” Jimin replies, as he and Taehyung walk by your office and to your lab to meet Hobi.

“Morning,” you say warmly.

It feels weird to inherit Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook as part of Namjoon’s departure. Trivia nights are certainly very different, as there’s no longer any real competition to play against. But even though it’s quite early on in this new dynamic with them, you really do feel like a family. Jimin and Taehyung have grown into amazing researchers in their own rights, and you’re so impressed with their shared, systematic way of thinking. It’s Namjoon’s signature, and you have to actively fight the impulse to update Namjoon every minute on every new finding or point of personal or professional growth that they show you. You wish that he could share in those moments, since he’s the one who sparked them.

Jimin lingers in your doorway, as Taehyung accompanies the participant next door.

“Manuscript?” Jimin asks, watching you type.

You nod. “I’m about to send him the first draft of the intro and lit review.”

Jimin smiles. You never use his name anymore, but Jimin knows that you mean Namjoon. 

Barely anybody else in the department has mentioned Namjoon at all. His departure left a bit of a shock with your fellow faculty because it seemed so sudden in the face of really positive change. Sejin even turned right to you to gauge your reaction when Si-hyuk made the official announcement at the start of the semester, during your first staff meeting back after the break. But Si-hyuk handled it rather well, encouraging the team to press on with their goals, and even saying some kind things about him. Something about how Namjoon left a strong impression.

When Si-hyuk said that, you stretched your legs out, disappointed at the feeling of nothing. You so missed meeting Namjoon’s feet under the table. 

“Have you spoken with him yet?” Jimin asks you, bringing you back to the present moment.

You shake your head. “Not really.”

Jimin stifles a laugh, and you look at him quizzically. You smile and ask, “Why, have you talked to him since he left?”

“Every day,” Jimin admits.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says brightly, before turning towards the lab. “He texts me every day at noon, and he asks me what you’re having for lunch.”

**

In a couple of weeks, Yoongi has his dissertation defense.

He knocks it out of the park, showing no signs of stress or fear as he wades through his presentation. He excitedly explains his findings, the information completely ingrained with him now. And while he keeps his thank-yous short, his eyes linger on yours as everyone applauds. 

Even Jin swings by the lab to congratulate him, having seen Yoongi’s dissertation defense announcement on the grad school social media channels. 

Yoongi asks for a moment with the two of you, alone, and you step into your office.

“Is everything OK?” you ask nervously.

Yoongi grins. “Everything’s great. I just never get a chance with the two of you together,” he says, looking back and forth between you and Jin.

Yoongi takes a deep breath.

“I just wanted to let you both know that I’m still continuing to see my therapist. I’m committing to a longer-term plan. I thought it might be smart to do with all the changes and what not, the transition out of grad school,” he says.

You smile at Yoongi. “Good. That’s really, really good.”

Jin chuckles. “Yeah. I think you’ve seen how stressful and messy things can get, even after you hit this milestone.”

You and Jin laugh at each other sheepishly, and Yoongi grins again.

“Well, I think I’ve learned how to be resilient in the face of difficulty. I had a couple of great professors show me how,” Yoongi replies.

Yoongi shakes Jin’s hand. “I’ll always remember what you both did for me. Always.”

And then he hugs you. “You saved my life,” he whispers.

As Yoongi goes back next door to hang out with the rest of the lab, Jin takes a moment to check in with a tearful you.

“I’m glad he’s here, but it’s so weird to see Jungkook at that desk,” you admit to Jin. “I’m having a hard time saying goodbye.”

“It’s not a goodbye,” Jin says meaningfully.

**

A couple of weeks after that, you’re all helping Yoongi move the last boxes from his desk to his car. 

He’s taken an assistant professorship and post-doc at a junior college about an hour away. He’s been recruited to help build out their Psychology department. He’s started the semester already, but he’s been driving back and forth between their campus and yours to tie up loose ends, and he still has ties to your university because he won’t officially graduate until the end of the spring semester.

“They actually really admired what you’ve done here, and they considered it a huge win to get your protégé,” Yoongi tells you, as he slams his trunk shut. “That’s why they were so eager to bring me on.”

You both take a step back from the car, watching as Hobi, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook pile into his car, arguing over what song to play on the radio.

You and Yoongi walk slowly around to the driver’s seat.

“You sure you don’t want to come grab drinks with us?” Yoongi asks you. “We’re going to a new spot. They have arcade games and stuff.”

“You’ve got your hands full,” you tell him, grinning as the guys rough house and tease each other. “Maybe we can get dinner sometime and catch up, once you’re settled.”

“Catch up?” Yoongi asks. “Uh, we’d better be talking all the time! We’ve got the conference in a month. And we’re going to work on tons of projects together and everything, and I’m going to keep coming to you for advice on classes and mentoring.”

The frenzied look in Yoongi’s eyes is playful, but there’s a hint of truth behind it. 

“...Right?” he asks carefully.

“Right,” you tell him, grinning. Relieved. “I’m always here.”

He smiles, and then he hugs you tightly. 

“Let me know when you’re free for our first dinner,” you say, laughing as he squeezes you.

Yoongi grins as he steps back and spins his keys. “I will. But it won’t be this weekend.” 

He bites his lip. 

“I’ve got a date.”

You beam at him, at all of them, as he gets in the car, and they drive away. They chant, “KIM LAB! KIM LAB!” out the windows as they peel out of the parking lot, and you wave at them, giddy and sad at how much has changed in such a short amount of time.

You shed a couple of tears on your walk back to your office to finish up some work.

You notice a new email from Namjoon in your inbox on your Music and Memory project manuscript. It seems long in comparison. All the previous emails that you’ve sent back and forth are one-liners. You click on the earlier emails in the thread to get a sampling of what he’s sent you.

From: Kim Namjoon

Subject: M&M Manuscript

Date: January 7

Thanks for the lit review. Really well-written. Will send methods section soon.

 

Date: January 22

Edits looked great. Liked how you simplified the EEG task description.

 

Date: February 6

Additional lit review on effect of classical musical training, plus poster draft for conference.

 

Date: February 6

Please disregard the file I just sent. Sending you an updated version shortly.

 

Date: February 6

This is the correct file. Other file had the old citations. Poster draft is the same.

 

You close the previous emails and look at the one that Namjoon has just sent.

From: Kim Namjoon

Subject: M&M Manuscript

Date: February 14

Here’s the final copy of the poster for the conference. I already caught the typo on Figure 3. Let me know if we need to change anything before I send it for reprinting.

P.S. Hope you’re doing OK. I know Yoongi’s heading out this week. Please tell him I said hi and congrats again.

P.P.S. “M&M Manuscript” makes it sound tastier than it actually is.

 

You double-check the date, and your heart throbs in your chest.

You’re still stewing on whether you can make this work. You’ve wanted this time to feel things out. See if you still had that attraction and desire to connect with Namjoon while he was away. For the most part, you’ve played it safe, not choosing to engage except for that new year’s text.

You wonder what it would be like to indulge, just once. 

On today, of all days.

You type back to him.

Reply: M&M Manuscript

Will take a look.

P.S. Thanks for checking in. Doing OK.

P.P.S. Our research is plenty tasty.

 

You send it back, and you get a response almost immediately.

From: Kim Namjoon

Subject: M&M Manuscript

Thanks.

P.S. People who have impacted our lives never really leave us.

P.P.S. So are many of our other things. 

 

You laugh out loud at the last line.

You’re even blushing. 

You wonder what he would have done if he were just down the hall. You wonder what it would have sounded like if he had whispered it to you in a staff meeting. Or growled it to you in bed. You wonder where he would have put his hands as he said it. 

Whatever he would have done, it would have been perfect.

**

No matter how many years you add to your professional experience, conferences always sneak up on you.

Luckily, Yoongi, Jimin, and Jungkook are doing the bulk of the presentation work. They’re in charge of presenting the poster during the third day’s afternoon session. You, Hobi, and Taehyung are kind of just along for the ride, eager to engage in a variety of symposia and panels with outstanding leaders across all sub-fields in neuroscience. With any luck, though, you’ll be back here in a year, presenting on the finally published paper and updated findings from your second wave of research that you and Namjoon have co-led for this line of study.

“When’s he getting there?” Yoongi asks you, almost reading your mind.

You pause to check if anyone else is listening to you. You look down your row. You have the window seat, Yoongi has the middle seat, and a sleeping Hobi has the aisle seat. On the other side of the aisle sit Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook, the last of which is peering excitedly out his airplane window and regaling the other two with thoughts about what the clouds look like to him.

“His flight gets in later tonight,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I think.”

You look back at Yoongi, who is laughing at you. 

“You think?” he asks. “You sure you don’t know? You sure you don’t have his flight schedule tattooed somewhere?”

“Yoongi.”

“I’ll give you $50 right now if you can tell me the gate he’ll land at.”

You hold out your palm, always up for a challenge. “Gate E5.”

Yoongi throws his head back and laughs silently, but with his whole body. “I didn’t think you’d actually answer.” He sighs and looks at you. “Besides. I just got my first real paying gig. I’m still essentially a grad student. You think I have $50 to bet with, all willy-nilly?”

“I hate you,” you say, making Yoongi chuckle. And then, you ask, “Have you talked to him?”

“Not really,” Yoongi replies. “I think Jimin talks to him the most out of all of us.”

You nod, and then you start to drum your fingers on your knees.

Yoongi grins, amused. “Are you… Are you nervous?”

“No,” you lie.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Have you two talked at all?”

“Just emails about projects.” You smile when you think about the post-scripts to all those emails since the first one. The buried inside jokes. The short stories that you tell. 

“C’mon. You can tell me.” Yoongi narrows his eyes. “You and Namjoon haven’t talked at all about your relationship?”

You startle at Yoongi using his first name, and Yoongi shrugs innocently.

“What?” he asks. “Isn’t it a rite of passage for me to refer to you as colleagues now?” 

“It is,” you say, “but it’s weird to hear you say his name. Especially after you were so adamant on not using it.”

“He’s grown on me,” Yoongi says simply. And then he smirks. “Maybe not quite as much as he’s, uh, grown on you.”

You fight a smile. “Don’t be cheeky.”

“You are nervous!”

“Whatever.”

Yoongi sticks his tongue out at you. “Won’t you relax? Maybe you could do with a little bit of cheekiness.”

You sigh and put your headphones back on. But you don’t miss the jubilant look that Yoongi shoots you as you try to figure out what song to cue up.

Soon, your plane lands, and you all take the shuttle to the hotel. You check in to get the keys to your rooms, and then you check into the conference to get your badges.

Jungkook finishes first and meets you by the elevators, his eyes wide and sparkling as he drags his luggage over to you.

“I feel so important and official,” he says, looking at the badge hanging from his lanyard.

“Glad you find it exciting,” you laugh. You’ve done this for so long that it seems mundane to you. It’s refreshing to see Jungkook taking it all in.

“Oh, yes,” Jungkook replies. “But I’m also super nervous. I’ve practiced my part of the poster for weeks. I think I might throw up if one of the big-wigs catches me off-guard.”

“Treat it like you treat playing the violin,” you suggest. “Vamp in the key if you need a moment to get back on track.”

Jungkook grins, relaxing a bit. “You know, I see now why it was so hard for Yoongi to leave.”

You smile. “He told you that?”

“He says it all the time.”

“And why’s that?” you ask, touched that Yoongi had told Jungkook as much.

“You just make things so easy and comfortable,” Jungkook tells you, as the door opens, and the rest of your group joins you.

You smirk to yourself when the guys get off on the seventh floor, and they start excitedly whispering about their evening plans as you head up to the ninth. You always do this when you travel with them, just in case the guys want to get up to some shenanigans that they’d rather you not be privy to. 

And, honestly, in case you want to get up to some shenanigans of your own.

You ponder Jungkook and Yoongi’s words as you head to your room. Relax. Cheeky. Easy. Comfortable. Wasn’t all of that what brought you and Namjoon together in the first place? You think about Jin. How he said things weren’t so hopeless. You figure that between the three of them, you’re onto something. 

When did things get so serious and heavy, anyway?

The conference officially starts in the evening, during the formal welcome ceremony and mixer. What usually happens is that you’ll run into colleagues and rivals from across the country, and even the world. You all get drunk and navigate an awkward mix of reverence for and snipes at each other’s work. And you spend the rest of the conference fighting off hangovers as your students gear up for presentations.

But tonight will be a little different. 

You spend the rest of your afternoon resting until it’s time to get ready for that ceremony. You need extra time on your hair and makeup because you’re going for a new look. You slip into a tight black mini that hugs your curves and accentuates your chest. You spritz on a new scent that you picked out a week ago. You check your still-immaculate mani-pedi and send a mental thank-you to the inventors of dip powder nails. And then you lace up your brand new, black gladiator heels, the delicate straps criss-crossing up to your knee.

Even though it’s only been a couple of months, you still wonder what Namjoon will look like when you see him. What will he be wearing? Will he look any different? Will you be able to recognize him?

You head down to the ballroom entrance and pick out Namjoon immediately. He’s so tall. Was he always that tall? 

His flight arrived just an hour earlier, but he already looks incredible, also dressed in all black, his slacks and dress shirt clothes pristinely pressed.

You bite your lip and walk over to join him, deep in conversation with the rest of your little tribe, all of them wearing formal outfits of their own.

No one recognizes you at first when you walk up, but then Taehyung’s eyes pop out of his head.

“P-Professor,” he greets awkwardly, causing the rest of them to turn to you.

You grin. “Hey, everyone.”

They’re all staring at you, but Namjoon is gazing at you as if you are something he’s never seen before. 

“Namjoon,” you say warmly.

He clears his throat. “Hi,” he croaks.

Jungkook and Taehyung are blushing violently, and Hobi and Yoongi can barely keep their laughter in.

Jimin smiles and holds out his hand to you. You take it, and he gives you a little spin. “You clean up good, Professor,” Jimin remarks. “Shame that this outfit will be wasted on a work event like this.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Yoongi says under his breath, and you nudge him in the ribs. 

“I think it’s starting,” Hobi says, his eyes darting over to the doors before latching back onto you. “Should we go find a seat inside?”

“Why don’t you boys find a spot?” Namjoon asks. “Professor Kim and I can meet up with you later.”

The guys exchange funny, knowing glances.

Yoongi pats you on the shoulder, and you angle your hand back so that he can slap you a low-five, making the bracelet that he and Hobi gave you jingle cheerfully.

The rest of the group starts filing into the ballroom, but you and Namjoon stand rooted in place, gazing at each other.

“Your hair’s a little longer,” you tell Namjoon, reaching out and running your fingers through it.

He smiles happily at your touch. He looks at you again, from head to toe, and says, “New shoes?”

“I was thinking of returning them,” you say playfully, turning your legs to model them.

“Don’t,” Namjoon says sternly, making you giggle.

He looks around and leans into you.

“Let’s go play hooky.”

You smile. “We already have a reservation, Professor 11.”

He excitedly grabs your hand and leads you out a side exit, slipping out of sight.

This conference rotates through three cities, and at this point, you’ve been to all three, multiple times. You came to know these cities by attending this conference. As you walk around, you and Namjoon excitedly talk about your experiences at each of them. 

Your first years at the conference were spent doing more touristy things, checking out famous attractions that impress your less-worldly friends and family. You take pictures in front of statues, bridges, and buildings. You look extra touristy with your lanyard hanging in front of you. Namjoon says his experience was exactly the same, and he even pulls up a few pictures of him from then, his dimples smiling up at you as he excitedly gestures to the landmarks around him.

Your middle years were spent indoors, taking advantage of more of the conference itself, networking, presenting, and overachieving. You wouldn’t let yourself enjoy anything until the end of the conference, which is when the grad students would destroy their hotel rooms and go insane. At one of these parties, which you later realize was the same party, you try shrooms for the first time, and Namjoon gets a nipple piercing that will eventually close back up.

Your later years were when you could really take advantage of all the conference trips had to offer. You were finally in the know. This is when the really crazy stories would start to pop up. Namjoon tells you about the time that he met up with his mentor, who invited him and a postdoc to an underground poker game. They saw three huge names in their field essentially lose their life savings to a card sharp. The entire neuroscience conference community rallied to try and win the money back, which they eventually did. The night ended with everyone drunk, and Namjoon’s mentor smoking two cigarettes at once as he showed the entire crowd his entire repertoire of card tricks.

Now, you’re heading over to a spot that Si-hyuk told you about, a spot that only locals really frequent: a smoky, secret bar that has amazing drinks and incredible live music.

“Wait, I know this place!” Namjoon tells you excitedly, as you lead him to a nondescript wall. “I mean, by name only, obviously, since outsiders don’t know what it looks like. But famous musicians come here all the time! Don’t you have to know a password to get in here?”

“Uh-huh,” you say, tapping on the wall. 

A slit opens, and two eyes peer at you. “No phones,” the voice demands.

“No phones,” you echo, both of you showing your empty hands and promising that you’ve put away your phones for the evening.

“Password is Charlie Parker’s first record,” the voice tells you.

You smile excitedly at Namjoon, who shoots his eyebrows up.

“Well?” you ask.

“Is it ‘Koko’?” Namjoon asks nervously.

The door opens, and you learn that the eyes belong to a sweet-faced older man, happy to show you to the club. You follow him up and down some dimly-lit stairs, completely losing your orientation as to whether you’re above or below ground.

“What if I had gotten it wrong?” Namjoon teases, as he holds onto your waist.

“Then we would have had to kill you,” the older man tells him with a laugh that neither of you are sure you’re interpreting seriously enough.

You spill out into a cozy room. Everyone’s in 1920s attire. There’s a man at the bar animatedly shaking drinks for a group of people to his left. A trio is playing some soft jazz. You think you see a group of well-known professors in a dark corner. Two of them seem to be kissing while the others laugh.

“Enjoy,” the older man tells you before disappearing back into the corridor of zig-zagging stairs.

“This is wild,” Namjoon breathes. 

“Better than pub trivia?” you joke.

Namjoon smiles. “Nothing’s better than those Thursday nights,” he tells you meaningfully, making your heart pound.

You and Namjoon grab a small table in the middle of all the hubbub, and he gazes at you again, biting his lip as he smiles.

“It’s great to see you.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” you say, grinning.

You cross your legs, and Namjoon peeks down at the straps of your heels, just visible off the edge of the table.

He narrows his eyes at you. “You’re fucking killing me. You know that, right?”

“I had to exact my revenge somehow,” you say innocently. 

“OK, yeah---”

“Remember how you just disappeared?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know---”

“Remember how you just up and went?”

Namjoon reaches for your hand, and you give it to him. It feels so good to be sitting in a place like this, with him holding your hand. It just feels right. And the fact that it feels right encourages you both to go on.

“I’m sorry I just left,” Namjoon says. 

“You weren’t the only one who vanished,” you say. “I know I wasn’t taking your calls. But I hope you know that I’ve been thinking about you this entire time.”

“I know,” Namjoon says. “And I’ve been thinking about you, too.” He leans forward. “I was at the dentist, and Mercury started playing. I almost started bawling right there and then. My hygienist was like, ‘Are you OK? This is just a regular cleaning?’”

You laugh, and you press a kiss onto his hand. When you do it, you see him melt. You think he might start bawling there, too.

A waiter comes up to your table and asks for your drink orders. You order shots, and Namjoon giggles at you.

You talk some more, after your shots.

“Jimin told me,” you tell him.

Namjoon goes stone-cold. “Told you what.”

“That you ask him what I eat for lunch every day.”

He tenses. 

“You spying on me?”

“I just know that you often forget to eat, or don’t have time, and I-I just wanted to make sure you were---”

You squeeze his hand. “I thought it was sweet.”

He smiles and relaxes. And then he says, “I heard you got nervous to see me.”

You frown. “That’s a lie.”

Namjoon laughs. “Yoongi told me. And Yoongi only says facts.”

You frown harder, wondering how you’ll exact your revenge on Yoongi. 

“He’s doing so well,” Namjoon remarks. “He seems happy. Confident.”

“Confident enough to sell out his mentor,” you mutter, making Namjoon chuckle.

You wonder how many embarrassing photos of Yoongi you can get Hobi to snag over the week that you’ll be at this conference.

As you chat, more of the room starts to take notice of you.

The bartender swings by with an original concoction that he says is inspired by your shoes.

The professors in the dark corner give you a happy nod and wave.

And a very drunk woman sidles up to you and starts making conversation. 

“You’re very handsome,” she tells Namjoon.

“Thank you,” he says stiffly, making you giggle.

“You remind me of my son,” she says, thoughtfully running her fingers up and down his arm. 

“Aw, do you get to see your son often?” you ask.

“No, he died ten or fifteen years ago,” she tells you, placing her hand on your shoulder, “or something.”

You and Namjoon exchange glances. “Or something?” Namjoon repeats to you, and you try your best to hold your laughter inside.

“Anyway, why do you have this pretty girl here, but you aren’t dancing?” she asks, swaying along to the soft jazz in the background. “If my son were here with a girl like that, I’d tell him --- well, first, I’d ask him how the hell he came back from the dead. But then I’d tell him to dance with her if he knew what was good for him.”

“Great advice,” Namjoon says, smiling at you.

He lifts your hand off the table and twirls you onto the dance floor. You sink into his embrace, and he leads you in a comfortable, casual dance, your head resting against his chest, lips just at the base of his neck.

“Pretty sure that was the smoothest move of the night,” he comments happily, holding you close. “That lady was such a great wingwoman.”

“Or a lush,” you say. 

You turn Namjoon around to show him that she’s finishing your drinks and moving onto the next table.

You both watch as the bartender wrangles the drunk lady into a corner. She’s clearly been cut-off, but she wanders around again, trying to sneak more drinks into her system.

Namjoon laughs. “Well, if I’d have known she’d get you into my arms, then I would have bought her all the drinks she wants.”

Something in his comment strikes you as particularly interesting.

“You said you knew,” you tell him.

“Hmm?”

“You said earlier that you knew that I was thinking about you.”

“Yes?”

“How did you know?”

Namjoon sighs, and you worry that what he’s about to say is going to trigger some kind of argument.

“Well, being completely transparent,” he says, “Jin called me. A few times, actually.”

You startle and look up at Namjoon, but you keep dancing.

“Huh?”

Namjoon nods. “He called me. I think he got my number from the faculty directory.”

You blink. “What did he say?”

“He told me what happened, that day that we almost… That I…” He clears his throat. “Well, the day that I got Baram’s email.”

Your breath catches in your chest. You look up at Namjoon and brace for what he’s about to say.

“Jin told me that he saw you at the pub. That you were frustrated. That you felt unsure about things.”

You nod. “I did.” You sigh. “I should have just talked to you. But I needed a bit of time and space to figure out what I was even feeling. Jin talked it out with me a couple of times. He actually really helped me.”

“He helped me, too,” Namjoon says, smiling. “I thought it was over. I thought I had fucked it all up and just completely lost you. I drove home immediately, and I started planning for a clean break. If he hadn’t called me that night, I might have given up.”

“That’s why you sent me that text?” you ask him. “Because of Jin?”

Namjoon nods. “He told me not to make the same mistake that he did. He told me to give you all the time in the world. That it would absolutely be worth it.”

Your heart fills, and you’re flooded with warm thoughts of Jin.

“Hearing from him and talking things out helped me understand him a little, too,” Namjoon replies. “I shouldn’t have been so jealous of him. But he also admitted that he shouldn’t have been so… so…”

“Annoying?” you ask.

“I was trying not to say it,” Namjoon says with a laugh. And then he strokes your hair. “But who would have an easy time getting over you?”

You smile up at him. “So you’re not over me?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to try to get over you,” Namjoon says. He looks hopeful. “Are you over me?”

“No,” you tell him. “And I absolutely tried.”

He chuckles and takes a deep, happy breath.

You gaze up at him and smile.

“So, if I can’t get over you… let me get under you instead.”

Namjoon bites his lip. He leans down and kisses you, and it makes your toes curl in those gladiator shoes.

There’s a series of stairs, cars, elevators, and hallways that lead you to Namjoon’s room back at the conference hotel on the tenth floor. But you don’t remember them very well. All you can focus on is the way that Namjoon is pressing you against the door and double-locking it as he kisses you so deeply that you almost feel his tongue in your chest.

The lights are completely off, but there’s a glow coming in from the window. You see outlines of each other, and you’re kind of feeling around in the dark for each other, but whatever you find is exactly what you were looking for.

“I want you so badly,” Namjoon whispers.

“I want you, too,” you whisper back. “All those times you surprised me. I wanted to surprise you tonight.” 

“You did. You always do.”

You kiss him again, and he feels so good against you that you’re already shaking. “God, I thought about you the entire time I was getting ready.”

“Mmm. You thought about me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Did you play with yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

You lean back against the door and run your hand down your stomach, between your legs, and into your folds. Namjoon raises your skirt and watches as your fingers slide over your underwear but dip into darkness, your panties quickly staining with your juices. He follows with his fingers, holding your hand as you move.

“Fuck. Remember the hotel in the mountains?” Namjoon asks you breathlessly.

“Yes,” you moan, as you rub yourself, the mix of his body against you, his voice in your ear, and his hand on yours making you sweat.

He licks his lips and grasps at your waist before moving his hands to your chest, fondling your beautiful breasts and kissing the skin showing at your neckline.

“I wanna fuck you like that,” he tells you, gripping you so roughly that you think he might rip pieces of your flesh off of your body. “Fuck this conference. I don’t want to leave this room all week.”

You whine, getting close, but Namjoon rips your hand from your pussy. 

“Not yet,” he tells you.

He picks you up, and you wrap your legs around him, your heels pressing into the top of his ass and making him suck his breaths in tightly.

Instead of placing you on the bed, he lifts you up higher, placing your thighs on his shoulders. He’s so tall that your head almost hits the ceiling, and he’s so strong that you feel so stable. You lean back against the door and grab onto the top of the door frame as his head disappears underneath your skirt. You can’t see him, but you feel his fingers slide your panties to the side, and his tongue dive into your pussy. You squirm, and he holds your thighs tightly in place, his hands reaching down and back as he follows your calves to feel the leather against your skin, as he eats you out, his tongue discovering your throbbing clit immediately. He rolls his tongue back and forth, from your entrance to the top of your folds, and you come easily, your shoulder blades colliding with the door behind you. 

“That felt amazing,” you moan, as Namjoon gently sets you back down on the ground.

He spins you around, and you place your palms flat, just underneath the peep hole.

“Fuck me,” you sigh, as Namjoon reaches for your dress.

He pulls the tab of your zipper down your back, and he giggles a little as he pulls your dress off of you. It slides down your body, down your legs, and onto the floor. You step out of it, knowing to keep your heels on as he reaches to remove your bra and panties. You look back at him, watching as he strips naked, ripping buttons and tearing seams, so passionate that he can’t think straight.

He falls to his knees and pulls your hips back, bending you over before licking at your pussy again.

“No, please, Joon, fuck me,” you whine.

“It’s been so long, and I haven’t had my fill,” he tells you, stroking his cock and watching you with self-satisfaction as you eye his hand jealously.

He buries himself into your pussy, licking and sucking your still-sensitive skin until you come again. And as you come and ride that wave, he spreads your ass cheeks open, rimming you and making you squeal into the chipped paint just under the fire evacuation map on the door. 

As he rims you, he fingers you, pushing two fingers in at once and making you tense up, needing to grab onto something but unable to find anything that will support you. 

“Hang on for me,” he tells you.

“I’m trying,” you whine, making him laugh again. You sigh as he makes you come again, and you say, “Fuck, Joon, what the hell has gotten into you?”

“It’s you,” he tells you. “This is all about you. This is all for you.” He kisses your pussy and pats it, making you buck forward. “This is how you make me feel. I wanna make you feel how you make me feel. I wanna drive you insane.”

He reaches down and feels your calves again, admiring the feel of leather alternating with skin as he runs his hands down your gladiator heels.

“Damn, I’ve never seen shoes like these,” he tells you, licking the backs of your legs up to your ass as he travels. “Did you think of me when you bought them?”

“When they came, I put them on and played with myself, thinking about how you might react,” you tell him, and he lets out a high-pitched grunt in response.

You moan in ecstasy when he stands behind you, and you feel him press his raging cock between your thighs, pumping forward in a way that makes his tip and shaft graze against your clit.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Every part of you feels so good.”

He leans forward and grabs your breasts, massaging them again, and making you arch your back and run your hand through your hair to get it out of your face. 

You ride on top of him like that for a while, never quite getting to climax, but feeling Namjoon get even harder as he swims between your milky, smooth thighs. Your hand meets his tip when he presses forward, and you rub him when he stops. You clench your thighs together, making it as tight as you can for him, until he begs you to release him. 

Namjoon dips down to feel your legs again, licking at your pussy to get you ready, and then he kicks at the base of your feet so that you’ll widen your stance. 

You press your cheek against the door for support as Namjoon pushes into you, finally giving you what you’ve been wanting. You’ve missed this feeling. He’s so thick that you swear that fucking him has given you wider hips. He’s so long that you think you can feel his dick in your stomach. And he’s so firm that you seriously wonder if there is an actual bone in his cock. But he’s also so deliciously slick and velvety when you ride him, so comforting, so easy, so relaxing, and so cheeky, especially when he lets out a giggle or slaps your ass as you wind your hips or stutter-stop along his shaft. 

“Fuck, the way you’re riding me,” he tells you, his voice higher now. “I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” you tell him. “Fill me up with it. I want it all.”

“It’s all yours. Fuck. You feel so good.”

You start to take over, slamming back into him, feeling him, reading him, and rubbing yourself so that you can come together.

Namjoon lets out a bit of a wail, and you feel him shake, towering over you and gripping your ass tightly. You feel him filling you up, and you come, not far behind, your legs buckling beneath you, not able to be saved even by your powerful gladiator heels.

You fall forward, leaning against the door. Namjoon pulls out of you and sits on the ground, cleaning you out with his fingers. You turn around, slinking down the door and sitting on top of him. He brings his fingers up to your mouth for you to suck them dry. 

You lie back against him, struggling to catch your breath as Namjoon laughs deliriously and stares at you with awe. 

“We couldn’t even make it to the mattress!” he cries out, gesturing to his still-made bed. “Imagine what we’ll do when we get there!”

You laugh together, kissing passionately.

“How is this gonna work?” you say with a smirk.

He wraps his arms around you, moves your hair off of your back so that it hangs off your shoulder, and tells you between kisses pressed onto your bruised shoulder blades.

“I’m gonna be better. I’m gonna try harder. I’m gonna stay, in all the ways that matter.”

You nod, turn back to him, and press a kiss to his temple. “I will, too.”

And then, he smiles. He smiles with his entire body. He smiles with his eyes as he gazes upon you. He smiles with his chest as he pulls you into him. He smiles with his hips as he nestles them against yours. He even smiles with his toes, as he plays footsie with you.

“I love you,” he tells you.

“I love you,” you say back.

And you realize that for once, you don’t care how it’s going to work. You don’t care what rules you do or do not set. You don’t care what framework you put around this. All you know is that you want to be happy, and healthy, and together. You want to be able to leave a pub at the same time. You want to see a symphony and rest your head on his shoulder during your favorite movement. You want to go to dinners where you can hold hands, share dessert, or even dance, if the mood strikes you. You want to drop lunch off at each other’s offices and share a kiss without worrying about who sees you.

It was fun while it lasted, keeping this romance behind all sorts of closed doors. But you’re more than excited to see what awaits you when you open them.