Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Yoongi! Hey, Yoongi, come eat something!” Namjoon called out from the tiny dorm kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge to find something quick to eat. “Come on, we still have a ton of stuff to do today.”

No answer came from around the corner, where the bedroom the three of them shared was located. Namjoon sighed and closed the fridge.

“Hey, Yoongi-” he said impatiently, striding the few steps it took so he could poke his head through the door.

Yoongi was fast asleep on the bottom bunk, looking far younger than his nineteen years. His cheeks were soft and pinkish, he looked very round since he still had his winter coat on, and he had his palms together and tucked between his bended-up knees. Namjoon felt his exasperation completely dissolve away in a wave of protectiveness. He might only be two years older than his fellow rapper but he still felt a deep responsibility towards him - he had such enthusiasm and drive, and Namjoon never wanted to see that precious light of his get dimmed even as they were grinding away their youth for idol stardom.

But still. They were only a few days away from the debut of their group, and there were only so many hours in a day.

Namjoon sat down on the edge of the bed - his bed, actually, despite the fact that Yoongi had chosen to take his impromptu catnap there - and gently shook Yoongi’s shoulder. 

Yoongi groaned and smacked his lips.

“Ah, hyung,” he pleaded, finally opening up his eyes and blinking sleepily up at Namjoon.

“Grab something to eat and then you can join me in answering fan messages, okay?” Namjoon said, knowing he couldn’t go easy on him - and that Yoongi wouldn’t want him to anyway. He was just as fired up to succeed as Namjoon was.

“Fan messages!” Yoongi said with much more enthusiasm, finally forcing himself to sit up. “It’s okay, I can come do that right now. I had a smoothie for lunch, I’m not that hungry.”

Namjoon grimaced. Yoongi had the habit of blending up chicken and juice together to make eating go as quickly as possible.

“Not one of your chicken abominations!” he exclaimed in disgust.

Yoongi just smiled a tired smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s very efficient, okay?” he said lightly. 

This was worlds away from what Namjoon had thought it would be like to bring Yoongi into their group. He and Hyunwoo - their third member - had already been selected, but the company wanted them to be a trio. As soon as Namjoon saw the recording of Yoongi - a spitfire in a polo shirt and carefully-spiked hair - he knew that they had to get him. He was full of energy and a touch of venom, heart bared to the world. It would be a fight, he was sure - he’d have to fight the company to get him, and fight this incredible rapper himself to get him to be part of his group - but it would be worth it.

He had been so very wrong. Yoongi had been cocky, yes, but also starry-eyed and unexpectedly professional. He’d already been selling small-time beats and songs and was, despite his own enormous individual talent, very eager to accept the guidance of the company producers and even Namjoon himself. Namjoon had immediately come to enjoy being Yoongi’s hyung, feeling proud to be able to call him a teammate and looking forward to how he’d grow and learn as they worked together. 

Yoongi stumbled out of the bed and tottered after Namjoon, immediately folding himself up compactly to sit right next to Namjoon at the computer that was crammed into the corner of the room.

“Ah, this first one is for you!” Namjoon told him, nudging his leg with his elbow. 

He watched a smile bloom on Yoongi’s face as he leaned in and read the little message from one of their fans. He couldn’t wait until they got their first chance to perform in front of their fans in real life. 

“Scoot over, let me answer!” Yoongi blurted out, adding a belated, “please, hyung.”

Namjoon leaned back and let Yoongi crowd in, his knobby fingers clacking on the keys as he wrote an effusive note thanking the anonymous poster for their support. His noodly little torso was warm against Namjoon’s side, even through his coat.

It was hard for Namjoon to believe he had so much energy and creativity in him sometimes. He was just so much Yoongi in not a whole lot of space. He really hoped he got the chance to show it all off.

💗💗💗

“Hello! We are BRANCH!” Namjoon hollered into the mic, cool stage persona fully in place. “I’m Rap Monster!”

“And I’m Grenade!” Hyunwoo yelled just as enthusiastically next to him.

“And I’m Suga!” Yoongi yelled, his voice almost cracking. 

Namjoon had to take a deep breath to stop himself from laughing. He had to focus. They just had to record this little introduction clip, and then in another few minutes they’d be taking the stage to dance and rap for the debut showcase. So they went through their little spiel that they’d rehearsed a hundred times, all jangling nerves in their matching black baseball jerseys and giant baggy jeans, informing the future audience that they were going to blow them away.

A few minutes later, the stage techs were checking their mic packs one last time before they were to step out on stage and take their places. Yoongi, a nervous grin plastered on his face, let out a squeal and shook his head, making the tufts of his styled-up hair bounce around.

“You’ve got this, Suga!” Namjoon called out to him encouragingly. “And you’re looking good, Grenade!”

“Yes! Woo! GO BRANCH!” Yoongi yelled back, sticking out his fist though his feet kept tippy-tapping.

There was time for one more fist bump between the three of them - Namjoon’s, Hyunwoo’s, and Yoongi’s knuckles coming together in a little triangle - before it was time to run on stage and show the world their rap skills.

Chapter Text

Namjoon had thought that the previous two years of training and preparation for debut had been the most intense a life could possibly be. He was wrong. They were absolutely nothing compared to what the last two weeks had been. They’d been ferried to-and-fro to every media building in Seoul, it felt like, to film little interviews or segments for TV shows. They’d worn what felt like a hundred different outfits every day, Namjoon’s skin feeling practically raw with how many times he’d yanked fabric over it, and gotten their hair and faces done and re-done and re-done for videos and photo shoots. The amount of content they were expected to generate was astonishing.

Namjoon had tried his very hardest to keep fulfilling his role as leader. He made Yoongi and Hyunwoo get sleep (even an hour or two) while he handled the stuff that had to be done but didn’t require all three of them: he talked to their manager, or answered fan messages on social media, or anything else he could take on to reduce the burden on the others. Yoongi wouldn’t listen to him all the time - he, like Namjoon, would happily sacrifice even their extremely limited sleep opportunities in order to listen to, and talk about, music together, and excitedly work on scraps of ideas for songs for their comeback.

They had debuted fifteen days ago. Namjoon had just gotten back to their dorm, and found himself there alone. Hyunwoo had been elsewhere all day - he was involved in some kind of side project and kept getting pulled aside by one of the producers. Namjoon wanted to know more details, but it was evidently something rather hush-hush, so for the time being he trusted the company that it would all make sense eventually. Yoongi wasn’t back yet either, having not gotten through his shot list for the day’s photo shoot by the time Namjoon had left.

Namjoon had debated staying so that he could accompany Yoongi home, but decided to head home instead and try to make dinner. Well, something to eat. It was past midnight now, so Namjoon wasn’t sure if a meal eaten at this time could be considered “dinner” or not.

But before making food, he needed to clean himself up. And that was where the night had truly gone wrong for him. And now Namjoon, daily filled with ambition and anxiety and gunning as hard as he could to become a star at the age of twenty-one with his two group mates, was on the verge of tears in their tiny bathroom.

Namjoon had left the door open on purpose, not wanting to prevent the other two from slipping past him in the cramped space to use the shower if they really needed to. He would prefer not to have to take up the bathroom for this at all, but it had the only mirror in the whole place, and he didn’t want to get scolded by the makeup noonas again for not stripping it all off properly and getting more pimples. So here he loomed, leaning in close to the mirror, scrubbing his face with the makeup remover pad.

To his consternation, it hadn’t been fully coming off. They must have switched brands or tried a more hard-wearing formula or something, because it was just stubbornly sticky. Namjoon had wiped and wiped and still he had visible streaks along his hairline, his nose, his eyes…he was so tired. He didn’t want to give in to the tears that were threatening to erupt from him. He just wanted to finish his skincare like a good, obedient idol, and then quickly eat and get three hours of sleep before he had to get up for tomorrow’s photoshoot. 

The door to the dorms opened up. 

“Hello, it’s Yoongi!” came the cheerful voice from the entrance.

“I’m here,” Namjoon called out. “Hyunwoo’s not back yet.”

He heard the door closing, Yoongi putting his shoes away and dropping his backpack on the floor.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Yoongi asked earnestly as he popped his head into the bathroom door.

“I just can’t get this stuff to come off,” Namjoon whined, feeling pathetic as he gestured to his gross, blotchy face.

“Ah, let me help,” Yoongi said softly.

Namjoon couldn’t help but notice that Yoongi’s face was shiny-clean and bare. He must have cleaned up before he left the company building. Smart!

“Sit down, you’re too tall for me,” Yoongi said, laughing at himself as he pointed to the closed toilet.

Namjoon wordlessly plopped himself down, feeling even more pathetic than he had before. Yoongi rummaged around in their chaotic, crammed-full bathroom cabinets for a moment while Namjoon settled himself. Yoongi finally pulled out a few makeup removing wipes, and then stepped over to stand right next to him. 

Namjoon lifted his head up, naturally looking up to Yoongi. Yoongi had just the ghost of a smile on his lips as he scooted in, placing himself right between Namjoon’s legs, and then put his thumb and first knuckle under Namjoon’s chin to hold him steady as he started cleaning him off.

Namjoon shivered just slightly, unable to help himself. This had suddenly, somehow, become about a thousand times more intimate than he had been prepared for. Yoongi - he, who almost never looked Namjoon in the eyes! - was mere inches away from him as he stared intently down at Namjoon’s face, his slim calves just on the inside of each of Namjoon’s knees, his knobby fingers pressing into the thin, tender skin under Namjoon’s jawbone, the fingers of his other hand rubbing a disposable wipe carefully but firmly over Namjoon’s forehead, nose and cheeks.

Namjoon could do nothing but watch Yoongi’s face as he peered at Namjoon’s own face, carefully continuing to clean it off. When was the last time he had been treated so tenderly? The stylists and makeup artists were very efficient and honestly some of them could get a little rough and impatient when they were in a rush. 

Namjoon hadn’t realized how much he was craving something like this until it was happening. His mind suddenly flashed back to other times he and Yoongi had been close in their months together on the same team. It was pretty normal to have a little skinship - they were all friends here, and though Yoongi was a little shy, he was very friendly and even affectionate in his own way. Namjoon recalled times he’d slung his arm over Yoongi’s shoulder, patted Yoongi’s thigh, grabbed Yoongi by his shoulders and shaken him teasingly, leaned in close - almost cheek to cheek - when watching something on his phone on YouTube…

He felt like a whole other dimension had suddenly unlocked in front of his face, that he’d reached into a shallow bathroom cabinet and tumbled into a strange magical land where everything had more meaning. Maybe it was just the chronic over-tiredness, or all the songs about love and relationships he’d been rapping and dancing to, or leftover hormones from the last stages of puberty…but god DAMN did he not want Yoongi to stop looking at him so tenderly, and touching him so reverently.

He must have shown some of his sudden inner turmoil on his face, or in the way he suddenly exhaled so shakily.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked quietly, his voice a deep rumble in the tiny room. “Is this too rough on your skin?”

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” Namjoon managed to choke out, trying to keep his jaw still so that he wouldn’t disturb Yoongi’s delicate touch on his chin.

“Almost done,” Yoongi said, voice dropping to a whisper.

Namjoon was pretty sure the hair on his arms was all standing on end. He was powerless, just a boy sitting in a tiny bathroom turning to putty under the undivided attention of another boy. A boy with large, strong hands, and a joyful sparkle in his eye even though his face was calm, and a little bit of pink dusted on his cheeks. A boy standing so very close.

Namjoon swallowed, and dug his fingers into his thighs just above his knees. Since when did he have thoughts like this?

“All done,” Yoongi finally said, a bit louder than before.

“You’re the best,” Namjoon replied, lifting himself upright.

Yoongi shifted back only just far enough to give Namjoon room to stand. Now this was almost worse for Namjoon’s heavily-beating heart - they were chest-to-chest, Namjoon back to looming over Yoongi by a few centimeters. His face was right there - Yoongi’s forehead was perhaps right at the level of Namjoon’s lips. That…that wasn’t quite right…what if he just tilted his head down, just a little, to meet the angle that Yoongi’s was tilting up…

Suddenly, the door to the dorm opened with a bang, the cheap handle hitting into the wall. 

“S’me, sorr-yyyyy,” Hyunwoo called out in a bored, careless voice.

Namjoon flinched as if he had been tazed, jolting himself out of the fuzzy, intimate little spell he and Yoongi had been under. Yoongi seemed to be affected the same way, pulling back and blinking rapidly, no longer meeting Namjoon’s eyes.

Had they been about to kiss?

Namjoon felt like he should say something. He couldn’t get himself together, though.

“I’m glad I could help,” Yoongi said softly, his cheeks still dusted with pink, but the tiniest gentle smile on his face.

He patted Namjoon’s shoulder, a kind, thoroughly collegial gesture, and then he was gone before Namjoon could reply.

Namjoon stumbled out of the bathroom in a daze, feeling almost disassociated from reality. 

“Hey, Hyunwoo,” he greeted him. 

Hyunwoo grunted something back that sounded a bit like it could have been “hello hyung,” already focused on making himself some ramen. He didn’t ask if Namjoon wanted any. But that was fine, Namjoon wasn’t expecting him to. 

He tried to force himself to focus. Food! For himself and Yoongi! He couldn’t give into silliness or weariness now, he still had a job to do as leader.

Namjoon flinched again, as the apartment suddenly rattled. He and Hyunwoo looked at each other wide-eyed, and then Namjoon realized: all of their cell phones had gone off at the same time. Feeling panicked, clumsy, and slow, Namjoon patted his sweatpants pocket and fumbled to get it out. He felt like he had already experienced too many emotions in a short period of time and was completely unprepared for another surprise, even something so minor as this.

It was a call from Sungmin, their manager. Hyunwoo turned his phone screen to Namjoon and showed him that his incoming call was the same. It was the middle of the night - what had happened? What was he trying to contact them for? 

Namjoon answered the call and put it on speaker. Yoongi ran out from the bedroom just then.

“What’s going on?” he asked, very worried, holding his own phone.

Namjoon didn’t know, but he pulled Yoongi in with one arm and tucked him against his side, nodding to the phone he was holding out with his other hand.

“Hello?” Sungmin said on the phone, sounding tense with even just that one word. 

“This is Namjoon,” he answered. “Yoongi and Hyunwoo are here too - were you trying to reach all of us at once?”

He heard a long, gusty sigh over the phone.

“All three of you are back at the dorms?”

“Yes,” Namjoon said, feeling more nervous by the second. 

“Okay, I need you all to stay there,” he instructed them sternly. “Do NOT leave. And don’t let anyone else but me inside. I’ll be right there.”

Namjoon felt Yoongi start shaking as he stayed pressed next to him, and make an almost imperceptibly quiet noise as he inhaled. Hyunwoo was staring off into space, seemingly in his own world and not comprehending anything.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi repeated, sounding anxious and on the verse of tears.

Namjoon just shook his head and tried to squeeze him in a way he hoped was comforting.

“Sungmin’s going to come by and he’ll explain everything,” Namjoon said, trying to convince himself as much as Yoongi. “I can’t even guess - maybe, I don’t know, they discovered that someone hacked into the computers at the company and want to make sure we’re safe from anyone who might have gotten our address.”

“Do we have any stalkers?” Yoongi asked even more quietly. “We only just debuted!”

“Right, no, I’m sure that’s not it,” Namjoon went on, barely thinking about what he was babbling but feeling like he had to say something anyway. “I mean, it’s probably something like that. I’m sure it will all make sense when he explains it.”

💗💗💗

It wasn’t just their manager who showed up fifteen awful, eternal minutes of waiting later: a second man came through the door too. He introduced himself as a lawyer, which ratcheted Namjoon’s anxiety up to almost unbearable levels. 

“Boys, I’ll be straight with you, I am here with bad news,” Sungmin said grimly as soon as the door was closed behind him.

Yoongi shrank back into Namjoon. Namjoon reached out on instinct and threaded their fingers together. He glanced over at Hyunwoo - but for some reason, Hyunwoo was staring daggers at the lawyer. Namjoon did a double take, confused at what could be happening. But then Sungmin was still talking, so he put aside whatever was happening with his bandmates and focused on the information given to him.

“BRANCH has been implicated in a scandal. We needed to make sure we talked to you before the press found out where you were,” he said.

Namjoon gasped. He had been wrong. This was so much more horrible than he could have guessed.

“What happened? Wh-what did we do?” he managed to choke out, Yoongi’s hand gripping his so tightly it was almost painful.

Sungmin sighed and looked even more upset - but he didn’t answer right away.

“Hyunwoo, let’s go,” the lawyer said instead. “You need to come with me.”

Namjoon and Yoongi just stared in shock at the lawyer and then Hyunwoo, completely speechless. Hyunwoo was sitting with his arms crossed sullenly in their tiny kitchen, and merely scoffed at first.

“That bitch,” he seethed. “She promised this wouldn’t happen! She said she had it handled!”

“That’s enough!” the lawyer suddenly interjected. “Shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you.”

“What does it matter now?” Hyunwoo sneered at him.

“I don’t understand - who are you talking about?” Namjoon asked helplessly.

“You’re so clueless,” Hyunwoo jeered. “You don’t have the first idea how this industry works. All that time you spent watching auditions and trying to write songs. What a waste!”

Namjoon felt like he’d been transported to an alternate dimension. Why was Hyunwoo suddenly acting like a jerk? Why did he seem to know things that they didn’t? Was he the cause of the scandal? What had he done?

“Hyunwoo, you need to come with me now,” the lawyer said tersely.

Hyunwoo rolled his eyes and stood up, resentment in every line of his body. He followed the lawyer out the door - though he did pause and look back at Namjoon and Yoongi, long enough to shake his head as if dismissing them. The lawyer waited for him to step all the way through, and then closed the door and was gone. 

Namjoon and Yoongi looked back to Sungmin, who sighed again.

“Boys, I’m so very sorry,” he said. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ll try.”

He sat down, taking the seat that Hyunwoo had vacated. 

“Hyunwoo didn’t get his place here through an audition alone,” Sungmin said. “His father is on the board of investors for Sparkle Entertainment, and he br- allegedly bribed the VP of talent management to get him a spot on this team.”

“But he didn’t need to do that!” Yoongi blurted out, still pressed up against Namjoon anxiously. “He was good enough to be with us on merit! He did all the training and everything!”

Sungmin shrugged wearily.

“There are a ton of ways to sabotage yourself,” he observed, measuring his words. “Especially if you always think you’re entitled to more than you have.”

“What happens now?” Namjoon asked, trying not to sound as timid as he felt.

He was desperately thinking of how this could be salvaged. They had signed contracts! Surely the company would stand behind them - give them a chance to form a different group, not with Hyunwoo. 

Right?

“Just stay here, and whatever you do, don’t talk to the press,” Sungmin said. “Come to the company building at eight. The CEO needs to address this, and then…I don’t know what. It’s beyond my pay grade now.”

Namjoon opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of what else to ask. So he shut it again.

“I’m so sorry, you boys didn’t deserve this,” Sungmin said sadly. “I’ll do whatever I can to make this right.”

💗💗💗

Sungmin left them then, to supposedly catch a few hours of sleep before they reported to work to find out what fate awaited them. Namjoon turned to look at Yoongi, who was staring off towards the floor and aggressively chewing his fingernails. Namjoon didn’t have a single, solitary clue what he should do now. All of his thoughts and ambitions that he’d had just an hour ago were completely in doubt. 

Well, there was one thing he could do - he could take care of Yoongi.

“We- we never did have dinner,” Namjoon managed to say.

“Ah, no, I guess not,” Yoongi mumbled absently.

So Namjoon distracted himself with scrounging up a quick two-person meal of reheated leftovers, and then made no protest at all when Yoongi climbed into his bed. They lay side-by-side, Yoongi with his head just tilted against Namjoon’s shoulder. They stayed like that, silently keeping each other company, until they finally nodded off.

💗💗💗

Namjoon had been optimistic when they got up in the morning. They were just starting out - surely they could go work for a different company. But then they met with the CEO of Sparkle Entertainment. He had seen CEO Kim at a distance a few times and had spoken to him once - Namjoon and the other trainees and newbies were so low on the totem pole that there was virtually no reason that they would ever have any doings with them.

Now, however, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Sungmin were in a conference room with CEO Kim and a few other people - probably his assistant and lawyer, though they didn’t introduce themselves. And, even though Namjoon had spent the previous seven or eight hours doing very little but worrying about the current situation, it wasn’t until he saw the regretful look on the CEO’s face as the man actually bowed apologetically to them that it truly sunk in how serious it was. 

Oh, Namjoon thought in the back of his mind, a cold sweat prickling his temples as he sat with his back to a whiteboard. This is it, it’s over.

“I am very sorry to you,” he said. “I had no knowledge of the corrupt financial transactions being undertaken by some of the senior staff here. However, as CEO that is unacceptable for my part. I assure you I will be taking every measure to ensure that all of the wrongdoers are rooted out.”

He went on for a few more sentences in that vein, mostly non-specific corporate-speak that Namjoon felt didn’t add any further information. Then the man sighed and put his hands flat on the table.

“I’ll be blunt,” he said, “since from what I’ve heard you’re very sharp young men. Sparkle Entertainment is done for. We are facing a number of lawsuits and charges, not to mention that we lost a significant amount of money to embezzlement.”

Yoongi gasped.

“Yes, it’s terrible,” CEO Kim said grimly. “We’ve all been betrayed by an inner circle here that worked together to defraud and corrupt the whole company. And now even those of us who were ignorant are going to be tainted by this scandal forever.”

Namjoon kept his face neutral, but inwardly vowed not to accept it. He’d just sign on with another company! He wasn’t going to give up.

“I’ll give you a letter of reference for anything you want,” he offered. “Though that may do you more harm than good, considering that my name is getting dragged through the mud as well.”

A cellphone buzzed, and one of the CEO’s companions leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

“Well, I have yet another meeting, and then a press conference,” he said heavily, after considering whatever new piece of information he’d been told. “Again, I apologize, and I wish you the best for the future.”

He bowed again, causing the three of them to scramble to stand and bow in return. Then he was gone. 

💗💗💗

Sungmin accompanied Namjoon and Yoongi to the practice rooms, making sure they had a chance to pick up any sweaters or water bottles they might have left behind. Then he took them back to the dorm to pack up their belongings from there - CEO Kim’s assistant had told them the lease on the apartment was up in three days. All of this maneuvering was done in tense near-silence, none of them knowing what to say. Once there, they discovered that Hyunwoo’s things were gone. 

Namjoon sat down on his bed, gripped with despair. He started half-heartedly stuffing some of his loose clothes in a backpack, but his mind was spinning with what to do next. Yoongi was in the bedroom too, making much better progress on his packing.

Then, there was someone at the door again.

“Yoongi? Are you here?” a woman’s voice called out.

“Mom!” Yoongi called out, his voice bright with relief. 

He ran out to the living room, Namjoon trailing after.

“I texted them last night,” Yoongi muttered over his shoulder to Namjoon. “I can’t believe- I can’t believe you guys drove straight here!”

“Oh Yoongi,” his mother said mournfully, then wrapped him up in a hug.

Yoongi’s father was there too, standing watchfully in the doorway.

“You’re Namjoon?” he asked, as Yoongi’s mother cooed over him a bit more.

“Yes sir,” Namjoon replied politely.

“We’ve heard good things about you,” he said with a muted smile.

Namjoon could only bow again.

“I just need a minute to get my bags, and then I’m ready,” Yoongi said, escaping from his mother’s grasp.

Namjoon followed him back to the bedroom.

“You’re going back to Daegu?” he asked, feeling even more behind than he had been.

Yoongi kept his eyes down, focusing on gathering his clothes. 

“This is too much for me,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Namjoon, I can’t imagine still having the same joy for music and performing that I did before, even if I find another company. I’m not cut out for this.”

Namjoon felt his heart break. This was the true tragedy here, that Yoongi - and probably lots of other artists under Sparkle Entertainment that Namjoon didn’t know - was genuinely talented but now had the bad luck of having their dreams squashed by this scandal. The unfairness burned him.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Yoongi went on, barely audible.

“Hey, c’mon, of course I’m not mad at you,” Namjoon reassured him, awkwardly unfolding himself into a standing position. 

“Um, please take care of yourself,” he said, “I’ll miss you.”

Yoongi stepped in and wrapped his arms around Namjoon’s body, curling himself up small so Namjoon had no choice but to enfold him. He didn’t want the hug to end - wanted to somehow cling to him, the last good thing remaining from their years of work, the one thing Namjoon wanted to preserve most of all. But Yoongi stepped away, and grabbed his things, and was gone.

Sungmin left too, and then Namjoon was alone with his broken dreams and his phone. He found a friend who had a couch he could crash on, and then spent the rest of the day refreshing breaking news about the scandal. There was still not much of it that made sense to him: a tangled web of fraud, embezzlement, nepotism, and greed. How could the simple desire to share songs with the world end up as something so terrible?

💗💗💗

It ended up that Namjoon saw Yoongi one last time, when they were summoned to testify in court regarding the corruption charges against the VP of Marketing. Namjoon’s heart broke all over again when he saw Yoongi sitting between his parents, looking small and terrified. He was composed when it was his turn on the stand, though his voice trembled. When he went back to his seat, Namjoon managed to get a glimpse of his hands - all of his fingernails were bitten down to the quick.

There was no chance for Namjoon to talk to him. The final glimpse he got of him was Yoongi walking away quickly down the hallway of the courthouse, the protective arm of his father wrapped around his hunched back.

At least he has his parents, Namjoon thought to himself. That was good.

A week after the trial, Namjoon finally worked up the nerve to send a text to Yoongi, just asking if he was okay. It failed to send - Yoongi’s number was no longer active. Namjoon stared desolately at his phone screen for a long time, even after it timed out and went dark. Well, that was that. There was nothing to do but swallow the sorrow and find something else to do with his life.

Chapter Text

 ~ Ten Years Later ~

Namjoon sighed and refreshed his email again. His freelance producing work had really been picking up lately, but that meant that every day was flurry of communication - feedback on songs, requests for work, iterations on contracts, and so on - all for dozens of projects at once. Some moved quickly, some stalled out for weeks and then picked up again suddenly, and Namjoon had to keep it all straight and not mix up his clients. Just moments ago, he’d been texted to expect an email of detailed notes about a song he was co-producing, and he was impatiently awaiting its arrival.

An unread email appeared at the top of his inbox. Namjoon clicked on it, relieved - but then halted in confusion when the email turned out to be nothing like the one he had been expecting.

To Kim Namjoon:

Hello sir, I apologize for contacting you this way when we have never spoken before, and I hope you do not mind that I am reaching out so suddenly. I am the former assistant of Kim Sanghoon, who you had a brief association with when you were under contract for Sparkle Entertainment. I am here to inform you of the sad news of Mr. Kim’s passing. Despite the unjust accusations against him, he looked back on his days in the idol business with fondness. His loyal friends particularly appreciated the idols and staff, such as yourself, who so generously and bravely testified in court and told the truthful version of the regretful events so many years ago. 

As one such friend, I humbly extend an invitation to you to attend his memorial service, which will be next weekend. 

The rest of the email contained all the exact details of the service and so on, which Namjoon skimmed for the moment as phrases and mental images long suppressed seared through his brain. CEO Kim! Sparkle Entertainment! BRANCH! Hyunwoo! Sungmin! 

Yoongi.

Namjoon, full of spite and stubbornness after the scandal, had resolutely remained in Seoul and scraped by through songwriting (but mostly delivery gigs) for years, until he finally had enough of a name as a freelancer that he could support himself just through the songs and the producing. He left his “Rap Monster” persona behind, naming his one-person producing company Studio Indigo. Of course he ran into a fair amount of people in the industry who knew he had been part of the Sparkle Entertainment scandal, but as the years passed they became fewer, and cared less. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something people thought about either. Hell, dozens of the producers that floated around the edges of the music industry had been idol trainees briefly - and you could find dirt about any company if you were gossipy enough. 

Namjoon hadn’t kept it at secret by any means, but he’d also gone to some lengths to never bring it up and to avoid anyone connecting the dots if they could, despite how he’d remained in the music business. Namjoon had sometimes brushed up against his brief, ill-fated idolhood in the ten years since it ended: the scandal would get brought up in some entertainment listicle, Hyunwoo or some other guilty party would get included in low-tier celebrity gossip, CEO Kim would get mentioned in a “where are they now” roundup. (He was running a government office supply logistics company now, in fact. Or rather…had been.) But he always ignored it as much as he could: scrolled past, changed the subject, closed the tab, dismissed, diminished, redirected, stuffed down, shrugged off, forgot.

But he did, unavoidably, think of parts of it sometimes. Especially the fact that though all the years, the one person Namjoon never heard even the slightest hint of was Yoongi. He’d evidently gone home and vanished into obscurity. Perhaps Namjoon would have been able to get contact information for him if he really pushed, but he decided not to. Yoongi, poor sweet Yoongi, probably felt even more bitter and wounded than Namjoon did. He probably associated Namjoon with the whole thing and wouldn’t want to see him at all. After all, surely he would he would have reached out sometime over the past ten years if he wanted to see Namjoon…

Every so often, maybe every couple of months, his brain would torture him with what-ifs - what if he’d remained friends with Yoongi, what if they’d had more time, what if the whole thing hadn’t been corrupt anyway, what if he’d gotten a second chance…

He always forced himself out of the spiral when it happened. No good could come of it. Perhaps he should go to CEO Kim’s funeral - maybe it would give him closure for all of it. He’d make an appearance, probably see a few of the staff and whatnot from back in the day, and then it would all be behind him forever.

💗💗💗

The day before the funeral, Namjoon couldn’t focus on anything at all. He had at least half-a-dozen songs in the pipeline but he couldn’t make himself do more than stare blankly at his computer screen. So, almost having an out-of-body experience as he did so, he somehow found himself searching up “Sparkle Entertainment BRANCH” on the internet. 

All of the top results had to do with the scandal, of course. The stories made perhaps slightly more sense to him now - and surely the passage of time, and the fact he was a bit more detached than he had been back in those terrible panicked days, also helped. Plus, the newer articles had journalists making a better summary from a historical - and multi-sourced - perspective than they could back in the day with all the hysterical breaking news filter on each of the events as they’d been announced. As Namjoon understood it, the VP of Talent Management was trying to take over the company from within. She was embezzling and soliciting bribes in order to pay off agents working for other companies and poach their talent, and in some cases - like Hyunwoo - taking bribes from wealthy families to install their preferred trainees in the company. And of course, one crime always seemed to beget more, so as the months went by the fraud and the number of people involved got larger and larger, until the whole festering thing collapsed.

For the first couple of years, Namjoon had felt guilty about some of it. He knew now, in his thirties, that none of it was his fault. He couldn’t have known. He really had done the best he could.

And from there, more articles and things popped up. He found an interview from Hyunwoo that he’d missed, given perhaps five years ago. The man had had nothing interesting or illuminating to say, which was probably why it hadn’t bubbled up very long in industry gossip when it had come out. Namjoon skimmed through it, feeling more and more disgusted with his former teammate. He barely mentioned him or Yoongi at all, making it sound like they were “fillers,” nobodies who’d been pulled in to make Hyunwoo look good and stay on the sidelines so that Hyunwoo would become a star. He glossed over the scandal, claimed to know nothing about it, tried to make himself sound like a victim, and used every possible point of the conversation to try to plug his own projects.

Namjoon closed out of that tab feeling utterly disgusted. It was one thing to be arrogant and self-centered at the age of twenty, but surely being at the heart of a company-ending scandal should have caused some maturation by the age of twenty-five! Hating himself as he did so, he looked up what Hyunwoo was doing now - apparently he was some kind of F-list influencer in New York now. 

Nothing on his social media mentioned CEO Kim. Hopefully he wasn’t coming to the funeral.

Namjoon clicked onward. He was getting deeper into BRANCH content, finding accounts on twitter and other older sites that had been fans back in the day and still shared pictures of them, apparently nostalgically. He found himself curling up and cringing away from the screen alone in his office, but unable to look away. Had they really worn all that? Let their hair be styled like that? Made those faces and gestures? Namjoon smiled bemusedly at his younger self, but also screamed quietly into the fist that wasn’t operating the mouse. On the other hand, he could see how adorable and earnest and talented Yoongi had been, so he supposed that he should extend the same compassion to himself. The fans definitely had a soft spot for BRANCH’s maknae - as well they should, Namjoon thought. There were archives that had screenshots of some of the contemporary fan reactions, and so many of them were cooing about him and his cute mannerisms, and some mentions of how Namjoon was a good leader (and a good hyung - a comment that made him proud, even reading it so many years after the fact).

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the fan content he found was almost entirely himself and Yoongi. Most of the fandom - at least those few still reminiscing in this day and age - seemed to feel the same way about Hyunwoo that he did, in that they’d prefer he didn’t exist in the first place. (In fact, nearly the only mentions of Hyunwoo he saw were sardonic jokes about how his stage name “Grenade” had ended up being all-too-apt.) So the pictures were cropped, the videos were edited, and only the two of them were left in. In fact, the fandom seemed to have invented some cute names for the two of them together: “sugamon,” or sometimes “namgi.” Like they were a sub-unit!

Namjoon kept reading and scrolling and clicking for more: he found analyses (and translations) of their heartfelt little messages to fans, of their unpolished social media posts, tidy little timelines of the few bits of songs and music videos and concept photos and dance practices they’d managed to release in their stunted little career. It was healing, in a way, to see that there had been at least a small handful of people who appreciated what they’d done, and had kept such positive thoughts of them even after all this time. 

He found himself perusing video compilations on YouTube. Some of them used footage from fanmeets, or even behind-the-scenes stuff that he honestly couldn’t even remember being released, or really even when exactly it would have been filmed in the first place. And then he started to come across some that made him slump even more deeply into his seat and blush furiously - these fans were actually shipping namgi. They had put together all the little moments of innocent skinship that Namjoon hadn’t thought anything of at the time and used it to make a case that he and Yoongi had been in an actual relationship at the time.

He thought of their last peaceful evening together, when Yoongi had been so sweet, and so gentle, helping Namjoon with his makeup, and he’d almost leaned in, and…

Well. If they’d been filming that, a clip of it would have been the star of all of these compilations, that was for sure. As it was, Namjoon felt hot all over, seeing the semi-ancient digital versions of the two of them close to each other again and again, and with each time he could more clearly picture it from his own point-of-view rather than just from the videos he was seeing.

The time he grabbed Yoongi in a backhug during a photo shoot, first jokingly (but very gently) getting him in a mock headlock and then simply pressing him close to his chest. It was- it was for the composition, he’d told himself at the time. You had to get closer than you thought to make it look right in pictures. The many times in interviews he’d grabbed Yoongi’s thigh, or rubbed his shoulder, just as a reassurance - both for Yoongi and for himself. And yes, it was true - as the fans gleefully pointed out, he didn’t really do that with Hyunwoo; such attentions from him were almost entirely directed to Yoongi. Because he was the maknae, he told himself. The times they were sitting on couches and were pressed right next to each other instead of spreading out. He was being polite! He was leaving room, just in case someone else needed to sit down.

All the ways he’d yearned for Yoongi without even quite being conscious of it, were now being shoved - gleefully! - into his face by their fans, who thought it was adorable and sweet. And stitched together, the way these anonymous people had done, Namjoon could understand it: this way, it really didn’t look all so innocent. It had all felt so natural at the time, and Namjoon felt hot at the way something that had been mostly secret even to himself for all of these years was, in fact, just being flaunted on the internet for anyone to see. His deepest innermost thought - that Yoongi had been far, far, far more than just “the maknae” to him - had been there for anyone with eyes to perceive it all along.

Namjoon finally forced himself to close all the tabs and stop looking at BRANCH-related things. He could barely think straight, his mind full of everything he’d read and all the memories and emotions that were bubbling up because of it. He felt as full of rage and hope and uncertainty as he had back then - maybe he wasn’t so different at thirty-one as he would have thought.

The funeral was tomorrow. He was no longer sure closure was what he wanted out of it most of all.

💗💗💗

It was a very cold winter day, so Namjoon had his nice overcoat and scarf on over his nicest suit. At least he’d had to attend a few industry events in his time, so he already had nice-enough clothes for this. He got out of the taxi, strolled thoughtfully past all the flowers, and into the lobby of the event hall where the family was holding this large, public service. It was all somewhat of a blur - Namjoon put on his public persona, bowed to the people he should bow to, went through all the motions. Kim Sanghoon had done what he could to have a meaningful life after such a stupid and meaningless scandal, leaving behind a very dull but efficient company with a few hundred employees who valued his leadership, and a good handful of friends and family who valued him.

It was a good outcome, Namjoon thought philosophically. At least he’d made something of his life and not let it hold him back, even if his life didn’t end up looking like he thought it would have ten years earlier.

Nonetheless, the fact that the course of Namjoon’s whole life had changed too because of the scandal still stung. Less than it used to, though. And now that Namjoon - after several years of trying to not think about it at all - had been thinking about Sparkle Entertainment and Hyunwoo and all the rest of it non-stop for days, particularly yesterday late into the night as he lay unable to sleep, he was thoroughly sick of it. He wanted to go back to pretending none of it had happened. (Well, almost none…) In a way, he hoped that having the whole sordid thing loaded up fresh in his brain would lead to it all being rinsed away by being here. It would get left behind, as easily as putting down a wreath of flowers, and never would it rise up to trouble him again.

How strange it was that that time in his life had mostly memories that hurt - the sting of Hyunwoo’s betrayal, the grief of a future that didn’t work out, the shame of being associated with a scandal prominent enough to be mentioned on Wikipedia - but also a sprinkling of memories that were so achingly sweet. Anything he would have had with Yoongi was entirely doomed, he supposed - the scandal looming over it all even before any of them could have realized.

Namjoon’s reverie was interrupted when a woman - one of the makeup noonas, he remembered, knowing her face but not her name - came over and introduced herself.

“Look at you!” she said kindly, seeming amazed as she looked him up and down. “You grew up so well!”

“Ah, thank you,” Namjoon replied, bowing again. “And thank you for taking care of me so well back then.”

“Oh, you boys were a breeze,” she assured him, reaching over and patting his cheek and making him feel young and small and rather silly again even though he was a good head-and-a-half taller than her. “Such good listeners, so cooperative!”

Namjoon stopped himself from laughing - certainly not how he would have wanted to be described when he was twenty-one, but a good feeling nonetheless. Here was someone else, at least, who had one or two positive memories from that time. They chatted a little longer, and Namjoon learned she had two daughters, both attending SKY universities. What a wonderful thing to learn. There had been other good people there, who’d gone on to have happy lives.

After the service itself, and the various speeches, Namjoon lingered in the lobby before leaving. He looked at the flowers, at all the other people milling around looking sober and thoughtful. He hoped Mr. Kim had found peace.

Then, he saw him.

There, just a few feet away, was Yoongi.

It was an electric shock to Namjoon’s system the instant he saw the shape of Yoongi’s face. Even turned to the side, he could recognize him instantly. He somehow hadn’t considered that Yoongi would actually show up. He’d so thoroughly removed himself from Seoul, from idol life. Still, Namjoon had to remind himself, Mr. Kim had had the exact same connection with Yoongi as he’d had on Namjoon. And of course Yoongi, no matter than he’d fled even farther and faster from those tempestuous times than Namjoon had, could certainly want to come here for closure. It was logical, Namjoon could admit that.

Still, he hadn’t been prepared at all. Nonetheless here Yoongi was, with a serious face and sober suit, a terrifying echo of that courtroom ten years ago, when Namjoon would have given anything for Yoongi to have been spared from such a horrible ending to a promising career. 

Yoongi turned to look at him, no doubt sensing out of his peripheral vision that some person was staring at him. So Namjoon could see how quickly his guarded expression turned to one of recognition, and how he straightened up, almost bouncing once on his heels like he did back in the day.

“Namjoon-ssi?” he asked quietly, already turning and leaning towards him, “Is that really you?”

“Y-yoongi-ssi?” Namjoon replied, his mouth dry.

“Oh wow, it’s amazing to see you!” Yoongi replied, still not smiling but his eyes bright. “May I buy you a coffee?”

“I- I- I would love that, thank you,” Namjoon managed to stammer out, and then frowned to himself. “Hold on, I’m the hyung, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

Yoongi nodded and shrugged, not looking displeased but seeming as if he wasn’t sure what to say.

“You always did take that very seriously,” he finally murmured.

“With you, always,” Namjoon replied before he could think better of it.

Yoongi did blush just slightly then, pressing his lips together in a not-quite-smile.

💗💗💗

“I would love to hear what you’ve been up to lately,” Namjoon said eagerly, as soon as they were seated at a nearby café, with coffees and pastries in front of them.

“I do order management for a small print shop in Daegu,” Yoongi said quietly, spinning his cup carefully in his hands.

His pinkish knuckles still looked the same. His nails were nice, though - no sign of being chewed on these days. Namjoon found himself almost breathless with hope that all of his dearest wishes for Yoongi to be happy and well were about to be revealed as true. A small voice in the back of his head scoffed and told him to not be so ridiculous, to not get so invested in this conversation - but Namjoon couldn’t hold himself back. This was Yoongi!

“We do some self-published books, some corporate boardroom pamphlets, museum programs, that sort of thing,” he went on. “My favorite is when we get to print a batch of musical scores for the local orchestra.”

Namjoon smiled at the thought. 

“And you’re still in producing, right? Studio Indigo - that’s you?” Yoongi asked, sounding a little hesitant.

“Oh, yes, that’s me,” Namjoon confirmed, feeling oddly off-balanced that Yoongi knew so much about him while Namjoon only knew what Yoongi himself had told him, “you’ve, uh, looked me up?”

“Just recently,” Yoongi replied quietly. “You know, because of all this. It seems like it’s going well for you?”

Yoongi’s tone and face were so carefully neutral that Namjoon couldn’t tell at all of there was a deeper meaning behind the question. Was Yoongi angry about his success, at being left behind? Was he dubious about Namjoon’s career, and assuming he was involved in some kind of corrupt scheme that seemed to be the only way to get ahead? Was he trying to find an angle to get back into the music business? Or was he just a former friend trying to make small talk? 

This was so different from the Yoongi of old, who wore his heart on his sleeve. He would have curled his lips in scorn if he thought Namjoon was doing something unethical, or grabbed his shoulder and squealed in laughter to celebrate his hard-won accomplishment, or pouted dramatically if he thought he was being left out. This was a mature, grown-up Yoongi - one that Namjoon didn’t know at all.

“It’s going pretty well,” Namjoon said carefully. “I’m very picky about who I work with so I’m not one of the top names out there by any means, but I’ve gotten to work on some cool projects.”

“That’s good,” Yoongi replied, still very even and neutral. “Do you ever talk to Hyunwoo?”

He took a long sip of coffee then, and looked off to the side with a decidedly studied indifference.

“No, never,” Namjoon said brusquely, “had no desire to. I saw some gossip that said he’d moved to New York.”

Yoongi hummed and looked marginally more relaxed.

“Same on all counts,” he replied.

Namjoon couldn’t stop looking at him. Sure, his suit and haircut and everything absolutely screamed “manager of a small B2B shop,” and probably any sane person on earth would have laughed at how Namjoon was still stubbornly thinking to himself that Yoongi looked cool this way, but…this was Yoongi, all grown up. He was so handsome. It was astonishing. Namjoon found himself drinking in the shape of his face, so familiar and yet so brand-new at once, much more frequently than he was drinking his coffee.

But he couldn’t just sit here staring at Yoongi - he had to try to drum up some conversation.

“I, um, took up jogging lately,” he finally said, deciding a change of subject was in order. There had to be more to talk about than just the old days! “What about you? Any hobbies?”

“Ah, you did always have energy to burn,” Yoongi said, and Namjoon could have sworn he almost sounded fond. “I teach piano on the weekends as a little side hustle.”

Just as Yoongi - apparently - could easily picture Namjoon striding sweatily through a park at dawn checking his heart-rate on a fluorescent-toned watch, so could Namjoon so easily picture Yoongi sitting patiently at a well-worn piano, a small child next to him, as he guided them through some piece or another, correcting the positioning of their fingers in the most caring way. It was a lovely image. But at the same time, Namjoon suddenly realized what Yoongi’s current mannerisms reminded him of. Rather than being the Yoongi he remembered and spent all those hours of closeness with, this was the Yoongi as he presented himself to the staff at their company. Kind, respectful, professional. Distant. Not a maknae - just a colleague. Namjoon’s heart sank. He knew that it was all he could expect, but somehow being treated by Yoongi as if he were a stranger hurt him in some way he didn’t even know he could be hurt. It was so stupid - they were strangers! Namjoon had made no effort to stay in contact! It had been ten years! - but his heart still cried out in sadness.

Namjoon wanted to bash his own face - gently - against the table. Why was he so dramatic. Why did he still have to feel things so keenly, as if he were still that twenty-one-year-old with a chip on his shoulder and no idea what to do with himself.

“That sounds wonderful,” Namjoon managed to say.

“It can be pretty rewarding, depending on the student,” Yoongi agreed, nodding.

And then Yoongi smiled, finally, with a dusting of pink on his cheeks. Despite the grownup hair and the dark suit, it was the same smile as before - and just like that ten years evaporated and the lovely boy Namjoon had known back then was across from him. His Yoongi.

Well, not his.

Namjoon suddenly felt a sick pang of jealousy, so strong that he had to clench his jaw against the rising bile in his throat. Yoongi’s coworkers - they got to see him like this every day. His wonderful face, his incomparably sweet smile, the way his soft bangs rested above the perfect arches of his eyebrows. Yoongi’s giggles! Every day, probably, because Yoongi was so easy to get along with, and probably made the whole office delightful. Yoongi’s coworkers - and whoever else was regularly in his life - got to see his gummy smile all the time.

Namjoon hadn’t gotten to see any of it for these ten years. Not a single particle of Yoongi. He swallowed, almost unable to breathe. He’d thought he’d done the right thing by leaving the past in the past for all this time. Yoongi wouldn’t have welcomed the sight of him, he was sure. But here Yoongi was right in front of him, and Namjoon could barely stand how much he had missed him all this time.

They traded a few more bits of information then: Namjoon about his songs and about the view from his small but amazingly-located studio apartment, and Yoongi about the strangest print orders he’d filled and his funniest students. Soon, the last bites of their goodies were gone and their cups were empty.

Yoongi sighed, not unhappily.

“Unfortunately, I do have to go now,” he said regretfully. “I have an appointment - I’m trying to get a number of things done while i’m here in Seoul.”

“Oh, of course, that makes sense,” Namjoon replied, scrambling for words.

“Thank you for the coffee and the pastry,” Yoongi added, sliding himself out of the booth and upright.

“Yes, of course, thank you for chatting, it was wonderful to see you,” Namjoon said hastily, following right after.

They stepped out of the café, one after the other, dress shoes loud on the concrete sidewalk. Yoongi paused there, just to the side of the door, close enough to the building that the foot traffic sped past them unheeding. Namjoon halted automatically, aligning himself to listen as Yoongi turned, evidently having more to say.

He paused, though. The silence lasted just long enough for Namjoon to draw in a breath to speak, not sure of what he was going to say until it hopefully emerged in a sensible form, but then Yoongi started talking.

“Would you have kissed me? That last night in the dorms right before everything fell apart?” he suddenly asked, his body language stiff and distant again as he looked away from Namjoon’s face.

Namjoon felt his mouth go dry. So Yoongi remembered that too. Of course he did. Namjoon’s face flushed with shame, embarrassment, he didn’t even know what else - suddenly he remembered all those ridiculous videos he’d watched. Yes, he had admitted to himself yesterday that he had a crush on Yoongi. But what could he say to his face? And had Yoongi watched any of the same things? He’d clearly been thinking about BRANCH, about Namjoon, had been reading things online and reminiscing just as Namjoon had…what had he seen? Would he think of Namjoon’s feelings back then as a betrayal of trust, as something wholly unbefitting of a good hyung?

“I- Yoongi, you were only nineteen,” Namjoon whispered, wishing a hole would open in the ground to whisk him away and end his suffering by smothering it in black dirt and merciful silence.

“And you were only twenty-one,” Yoongi said mildly.

Well, that didn’t sound like he was going to threaten a lawsuit, did it. Namjoon still didn’t know what to say.

“Your silence sounds like a yes,” Yoongi went on inexorably, though his voice was quiet and shy.

“I would have,” Namjoon managed to squeak out, totally undignified and overwhelmed, but knowing the truth was best. “I- yes.”

He watched Yoongi’s face. The Yoongi of old would have given him a reaction - giggled and smacked him, turned bright red, pushed him away, made a gagging or wheezing noise to break the tension. This Yoongi maybe blushed, but it was hard to tell with the way he was turned away and the way he was in the shade of the tall building. But- 

He did reach out with his left hand, and brushed softly against the side of Namjoon’s sleeve with the back of it. A soothing gesture. A friendly one. Namjoon could barely feel it through his thick coat. Then his hand was gone as quickly as he had reached out, and his other hand came forward and deftly put something small - a business card? - in the breast pocket of his coat.

“You should get to know the twenty-nine-year-old me,” Yoongi said, his voice a little louder and bolder now.

Then he turned and walked away. Namjoon was frozen to the spot, though he did manage to reach up and pat his chest pocket, though his fingers felt too thick and feeble from stress to actually reach in and pluck out the card (if that’s what it was). He silently watched Yoongi walk down the sidewalk, his quick strides blending him in with the rest of the pedestrians easily.

Just before Yoongi turned the corner and vanished, Namjoon saw him duck his head and rub the back of his neck with one hand. And that was like a ray of sunshine through clouds - so familiar - Namjoon had seen it dozens of times - that was what Yoongi did, had always done, when he was feeling a little embarrassed but still proud.

Namjoon finally uprooted his feet and started stumbling back in the other direction, needing to speedwalk off some energy before he called a cab for himself. He bit his lip to stop himself from grinning ridiculously. 

It was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

Namjoon was determined that - short of Yoongi himself telling him to fuck off - nothing was going to stop him from staying in contact this time. So as soon as he was safely in a cab and being driven back to his apartment building, he pulled out his phone and the thing that Yoongi had put in his pocket. It was, indeed, a business card. Min Yoongi, Orders, Daegu Office, Top Level Printers the card read. It had an address, a landline, and a mobile phone number. Namjoon typed it in and sent a message immediately.

[KNJ] Hi, this is Namjoon, just confirming I got your number 👍

It took just one or two minutes before a reply appeared, Namjoon antsily bouncing his leg the whole time.

[MYG] Great 🙂 thank you for texting!

[KNJ] How long are you in Seoul? Do you have time to meet up for a meal before you go?

[MYG] I have to go back the day after tomorrow. I could meet for dinner tomorrow if you’re free then!

Namjoon heaved a sigh of relief. He really wanted to see him again. He was willing to cancel just about any theoretical plan - not that he often had evening plans - to have dinner with Yoongi.

💗💗💗

Namjoon headed into the dinner with Yoongi the next day much less nervous about where he stood than he had during yesterday’s coffee. Obviously he couldn’t expect Yoongi to just jump right back into the same level of friendship they’d had before, but clearly Yoongi was interested in being, at the very least, back in contact. Namjoon couldn’t be happier. He could put aside all the too-intense feelings he’d roiled up in his mind, not to mention how he’d been called out for having said feelings written all over his face and body language in those fan edits, as long as he could nurture some kind of friendship with Yoongi. 

After all, he’d had plenty of practice over these past ten years in hiding his feelings. In seeming okay when he wasn’t, seeming calm when he was furious. This was more of the same.

And, as he walked into the restaurant and caught sight of Yoongi’s face, he realized that of course it was the same for him. He’d surely had to learn the same thing. 

Namjoon just hoped, as he saw Yoongi look up and see him, and see the way his face brightened and his eyes smiled a little even if his lips didn’t yet, that they could both learn to open up to each other again. At least a little. They could never recapture what it was like to be nineteen and twenty-one again, but they could start something new, and maybe a little richer.

They began the meal with the usual small talk of choosing drinks and food, notes about the neighborhood and things of interest that happened on the way there. Safe, small topics. Namjoon felt a little more relaxed than before just from the fact that they weren’t dressed in their formal best any more: he was in a plain-but-nice sweater and loose-cut slacks, and Yoongi was in a dark denim jacket over a hooded sweater and jeans. 

“So there was something I wanted to ask you,” Yoongi finally said after a short lull in their conversation.

Namjoon perked up immediately.

“Sure, anything,” he replied.

“I’ve been offered a big opportunity at work - our parent company owns a few print shops in Seoul too, and they’re looking to promote someone to take over the orders department up here,” he explained slowly, using one fingertip to draw figures in the condensation on the side of his water glass. “I could take it if I really want it. It would be a big promotion.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing,” Namjoon said, heart racing at the thought of Yoongi back in Seoul.

“I guess I’m just not completely sure if I wanted to come back to Seoul,” Yoongi went on.

Namjoon went from excitement to dread in a millisecond. Had it all been that bad? Did Yoongi feel like the city was still so tainted?

But then Yoongi gave him a half-smile and quirked his head.

“What is that face, hyung? You look like a kicked puppy,” he said with a single short laugh. “I don’t mean it like I’m scared to come back, or because of all the- the idol stuff, you know. That was so long ago I barely care about it. It’s more just…”

He trailed off and looked down again, heedless of the fact that Namjoon had almost swallowed his own tongue from the effect of the sudden and unexpected “hyung” he’d thrown in. 

“I just wasn’t sure if there would be any- anything here for me other than the job. I know now how hard it is to start over,” Yoongi concluded, his voice soft again and the smile gone.

His eyes drifted up again, roaming over Namjoon’s face briefly, and then he dropped his gaze again and pressed his lips together in a contemplative not-quite-smile.

“Well, first off, of course you should do whatever you think is best for you,” Namjoon hurried to say, feeling like he was stumbling over his words. “But if you’re worried about getting established in Seoul, I could definitely help with that. Anything you need, finding a place to live, taking you around to see the sights - I have lots of friends here that I’m sure would love to meet you-”

As Namjoon talked, he felt like he could see the vision materializing in front of him. Yoongi, here in Seoul, working away meticulously in some office each day, but there to be plucked away whenever they had time! Getting to meet him maybe multiple times per week - taking Yoongi to museums and parks and -

“And I hope you don’t think it’s selfish of me to say so, but I would love to have you here,” Namjoon said before he could stop himself. “I really would.”

Yoongi smiled, and his cheeks were pink, and he looked so pleased and shy that Namjoon could hardly stand it.

“Thank you, hyung. I really appreciate it,” he murmured. “It would be nice - if I do it - just to have someone I know. But it won’t be for a few more months at least, even if it does happen.”

“Okay, great - like I said, just let me know if there’s anything at all I can do, or anything you want to pick my brain about. Anything,” Namjoon repeated earnestly.

“I will,” Yoongi assured him with a tiny little nod.

💗💗💗

Namjoon spent the rest of the dinner in a happy cloud, asking Yoongi questions about his job and his piano lessons and all the while imagining a beautiful future where Yoongi would be nearby and able to do this regularly. Late the next day, when Yoongi texted to let him know he’d made it back home safely, Namjoon thought: well hell, he was only three hours away! He didn’t have to merely console himself with visions of the future, he could just go to Daegu! He felt an irrepressible desire to show Yoongi that he wanted to spend time with him even if he didn’t end up moving. Namjoon wasn’t rolling in cash by any means, but he had flexible working hours. After so many years of silence it was time for him to make some bold gestures.

Yoongi, of course, was initially very diffident and, in their text conversations, focused on not wanting Namjoon to inconvenience himself. But Namjoon doggedly insisted that Bullodong Ancient Tomb Park in Daegu had been on his bucket list for years, and that all he wanted was to time his visit (which was happening anyway!) so that there was at least one day where he could drop by and take Yoongi out to a meal in his hometown. And so the wheels and pulleys of etiquette and consideration and good wishes ground and squeaked back and forth and, in the end, Namjoon got what he wanted and a trip was scheduled. 

Yoongi even invited Namjoon to come see the print shop where he worked, which Namjoon was in fact quite interested to see. It wasn’t often he got to see places like that in person, and he loved seeing how other jobs and industries worked - finding out things he’d never even thought to ask about. 

Yoongi looked trim and professional when he came out of the front door of the shop to meet Namjoon, freshly hopped off of the bus. His button-down shirt had thin blue stripes and was firmly tucked into his belted slacks, and his eyes shone happily from behind his glasses. Namjoon was dressed in his park-or-museum-visitor usual, loose-cut jeans (though these were forest green canvas) a puffy coat and a beanie.

“Thank you for coming!” Yoongi greeted him with a grin, whisking him quickly off the street and out of the cold. “How were the tombs?”

“Oh, the whole site was really fascinating,” Namjoon enthused as he took in the front of the building - a standard rectangle with a small office fronting a much larger warehouse-type space - and the big red “TOP LEVEL PRINTERS” logo hung above the door. “It was amazing to imagine what life was like back then.”

Then he found himself in the tiny front office, which contained just two desks but quite possibly every filing cabinet in Daegu behind a cluttered countertop. Once of the desks was vacant - Yoongi’s, then - and the other was inhabited by a kind-looking middle-aged woman in a cardigan and slacks. 

“Namjoon-ssi, this is Hyeonju-sunbaenim, she handles admin here,” Yoongi introduced him.

She stood and they bowed to each other.

“Ohhh, it’s so nice to meet you!” she said, grinning and putting her hands together.

Then she turned quickly to Yoongi, putting her hand up to her mouth and leaning forward in a faux-conspiratorial whisper.

“This is the rap guy, right?” she asked.

“Yes, this is him,” Yoongi confirmed, smiling mischievously though he blushed and couldn’t look either of them in the face.

The rap guy? Namjoon thought to himself bemusedly.  

“Well, show him around!” she said, making a shooing motion with her hands. “He came all this way!”

Yoongi cheerily muttered something like yeah yeah yeah as she sat back down, giving Namjoon a wink before she turned back to her computer.

“So that’s where I work,” Yoongi said, pointing diffidently to the other computer. 

It was surrounded by piles of papers - some regular paperwork, invoices and whatnot, and some clearly print samples on all sizes of paper. A crate at one side held a complete ring-bound set of Pantone color chips. The whole desktop was a chaos of fragmented colors. Along the back of it, there was a motley row of knicknacks: some figurines (three cats in various styles, a bear, and a glass teardrop that might’ve been an award of some kind), some souvenir mugs, two different pencil holders stuffed with pens. Namjoon nodded, feeling the ghost of their stuffed-full disheveled dorms tickling his elbows. It was exactly like thousands of other desks covered with the necessary byproducts of a busy worklife, but indescribably special because it was Yoongi’s.

“Now, come on back to the floor, that’s the interesting part,” Yoongi said, turning to the back of the office and beckoning Namjoon to follow him deeper into the building.

The next door he opened led into a breakroom, no larger than the outer office. There was a fridge, a coffee maker on a chipped countertop, and a round table with two middle-aged men sipping coffee. They looked up and smiled and nodded in greeting. Unlike Yoongi and Hyeonju, they were dressed for a factory floor in grayish boilersuits and steel-toed boots.

“This is Youngchul-sunbaenim and Jinho-sunbaenim,” Yoongi introduced them. “This is my friend from Seoul, Namjoon!”

“Hi, friend from Seoul,” Youngchul greeted him with a grin. 

He and Jinho raised their coffee cups to Namjoon in a wry salute, and Namjoon bowed back.

“Oh, Yoongi-ssi, did you ever hear back about the delayed A4?” Youngchul asked with the air of someone suddenly remembering.

“Yes, I called them five times this morning,” Yoongi told him brightly. “And they finally sent me tracking info proving it will be included in the six P.M. delivery.”

Youngchul sighed in an exaggeratedly winsome manner, and put his free hand on his chest.

“Thanks, you’re the best,” he exclaimed. “I swear, you’re the only person that supplier will listen to!”

“It’s because I can actually be charming, unlike the rest of you,” Yoongi teased him.

Youngchul and Jinho made a token attempt at looking offended, and then broke into chuckles.

“Is the menu order still processing?” Yoongi asked them.

“Ah yup,” Jinho confirmed with another sip of his coffee. “Actually, I should get back so Donghyun-ssi has a second pair of eyes on the inking system, it’s been getting clogged lately.”

He threw back his coffee and left the emptied mug in the sink, then headed to the other side of the room, to the door that didn’t lead back into the office. Namjoon could see now that he had a big red “TOP LEVEL PRINTERS” logo on his back. He opened the door and the air filled with the sound of whirring, clacking machinery and rustling, slithering paper. Yoongi followed him, gesturing for Namjoon to follow, so Namjoon stepped through. On the other side he slowed so he could look all around appreciatively at the three terrifically complex printing presses that were laid out side-by-side, various stacks of papers being fed into them and then spit back out on the far side. The racket was tremendous and Namjoon grinned to see it all.

Half-a-dozen workers, in those same grayish boilersuits and safety goggles, waved to them cheerfully from various stations by the machines. A few called out Yoongi’s name cheerfully. A quick glance around told Namjoon that Yoongi was almost certainly the maknae here as well. He was, for perhaps the dozenth time or more since he’d reunited with Yoongi, almost overwhelmingly glad that Yoongi’s life seemed to be going well, and that he was happy, and that he had people around him who treated him with kindness and respect.

“Check out our poster wall,” Yoongi directed him, pulling him to the outer wall of the shop. “We keep our favorite samples here…and some other things too.”

Indeed, as Namjoon looked up at the wall and the dozens of overlapping prints of all sizes that papered over the surface entirely, he spotted a few titty posters and a few classic motivational posters including the classic “hang in there” kitten. His eyes roamed over it all, looking at the things that had been printed in house, including abstract art and proposal banners and music festival posters. 

And then he spotted it. Up in the far corner, now somewhat faded by time but still unmistakable, was a BRANCH poster. The three of them were in their most ripped denim, posing slouchily, the BRANCH logo hanging menacingly over their eyelinered baby faces. He squinted at an unexpected bit of pink: then realized there was a post-it note placed over Hyunwoo’s face. He turned to Yoongi with a surprised chuckle. Yoongi was grinning in delight.

“It’s a great easter egg whenever we get a new guy in the shop,” he said with relish. “Eventually they see it and ask, that isn’t Yoongi-ssi, is it?”

He laughed and rubbed his hands over his upper arms.

“What did you do to Grenade?” Namjoon asked, back to squinting at the pink square, certain he could see something scribbled on it..

Yoongi shrugged and made an exaggerated “don’t care” face.

“I just drew an ugly face and covered him up. Figured he could use the anonymity more than us two! Every so often the stick wears off and it falls, so I just draw a new one,” he explained, looking rather smug at his minor act of revenge.

Namjoon laughed and shook his head. Then he let Yoongi lead him around and explain how everything operated, not understanding much about the intricate workings but loving to hear anything Yoongi would tell him. He watched paper get pulled into and flung out of machines, smelled the concentrated dusty smell of various inks, observed a giant pile of paper strips discarded next to the trimming machine, and most of all just enjoyed how the whole placed seemed to be well-run and that Yoongi was well-respected inside of it.

There were maybe a dozen men scattered around the shop, operating various parts of it. And when Yoongi passed by their area of concern, maybe half of them looked very carefully at Namjoon’s face, and then yelled, oh hey, Poster Guy! Or something to that effect. Namjoon even gamely took a one or two selfies with them, knowing from their pleased chortling and elbowing of Yoongi behind his back that this was going to be the talk of the shop for weeks to come. Yoongi always did love in-jokes and such things, and even though he was a little embarrassed he looked so pleased to have brought a mutual source of entertainment that Namjoon couldn’t even feel too anxious about it in the moment. But why should he be, really? These people all cared about Yoongi, and this unexpected episode of his past, not about the scandal in the slightest.

Soon enough, Yoongi guided them back out of the shop and let him sit in the breakroom for a few minutes while he made a few more phonecalls. Namjoon left the door open so he could listen to his voice, at all of his cute respectful little messages and conversations with customers and vendors. It didn’t take long, and then Yoongi - with the face of a man who was satisfied with his morning’s work and was very much ready for lunch - popped back in to collect him.

After a farewell to Hyeonju and a short walk, they were at the place that Yoongi introduced as being his favorite ramyeon shop. And just a few minutes after that, they had gotten their orders and were chowing down. Namjoon could see why Yoongi liked to come here - it was very good.

They didn’t chat too much - Yoongi had to get back to work after, and Namjoon didn’t want to slow down his eating too much. But that gave Namjoon time to think about the day, and about the days before that, and about probably too many other things that he didn’t need to be thinking so hard about. He felt another pang of jealously towards Yoongi’s coworkers getting so much access to Yoongi and his smiles. He was glad that they seemed to be running such a good place. He was amused that Yoongi had that old poster up. 

What a good job Yoongi had done of leaving the bad parts behind. But as ever, Namjoon had doubts, and he suddenly felt flooded with guilt again. He looked down at the table and swallowed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Yoongi asked him, concerned at the change in his expression.

Namjoon sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said heavily.

“For what?” Yoongi asked a little challengingly.

“I should have done more back then,” Namjoon went on, needing to get the curl of misery out of his chest. “I was the one who fought to bring you on after you auditioned, I insisted on getting you as one of the BRANCH trainees. It’s my fault you got wrapped up in all of it, and then I couldn’t even do anything to protect you. Not just the scandal, but also all the other worst parts of idol life…no sleep, those awful smoothies you made…I don’t know why I just went along with all of it back then. I should have-”

“Hey,” Yoongi said, interrupting him by putting a hand over his, his palm warm over Namjoon’s knuckles. “Because you were just a kid, that’s why. And so was I.”

Namjoon just shook his head and still wouldn’t look up.

“I can’t believe you’re still worried about all that,” Yoongi went on, his voice taking on a light teasing tone. “Come on, even the smoothies? Hyung, you can’t take so much onto your shoulders and keep carrying it for so long.”

Namjoon looked up and was startled to see Yoongi looking at him so softly, suddenly returning him ten years in the past, when that painfully young and stressed-out version of himself was sitting in the bathroom and Yoongi was cleaning off his face, making the same sweet-yet-determined face that he was now. When they’d almost kissed.

“You don’t have anything to feel sorry for, okay?” Yoongi went on, still resting his hand on top of Namjoon’s. “It’s alright! The scandal was awful, and things didn’t go the way we wanted. But things are good now, right?”

“Yeah, they are,” Namjoon agreed slowly, powerless to withstand the force of Yoongi’s beseeching gaze.

“I thought you’d be angry with me,” Yoongi went on, looking down, shy again, “that you’d resent me for giving up and finding a different path.”

“No, of course not,” Namjoon insisted. “I always hoped you were having a good life, wherever you ended up.”

“And I do have a good life,” Yoongi said, sounding satisfied, giving Namjoon another hopeful smile.. 

And maybe that was what would finally do it. For all the times Namjoon had tried to leave his idol days in the past, just for him to bring it all to mind again and stew over it for days until he was able to set it aside, maybe he could let it recede to its proper place now. There was nothing left the grieve over. The last thing remaining from back then that he even cared about at all was Yoongi, and here Yoongi was, wanting him to be happy and unburdened. BRANCH could just be a strange footnote, a silly poster in a corner, a shared experience they could shake their heads about every so often.

And just as he had been back then, Yoongi was still somehow exactly what Namjoon needed: a friendly face, a gentle touch, someone who’d lived through the same things and had to come to grips with it in his own way.

“I’m really glad,” Namjoon said thankfully.

“And I’m glad you’re doing well too,” Yoongi replied. 

The way Yoongi brushed his thumb over Namjoon’s knuckles as he withdrew his hand felt just as intimate as that moment alone in the dorms all those years ago. Namjoon was glad he was wearing long sleeves so that Yoongi couldn’t see how the hair on his arms raised up.

💗💗💗

The next time they saw each other, Yoongi came to Seoul. He had decided to go ahead with the promotion and move after all - which Namjoon had been expecting him to decide, but his heart still jumped with joy when he heard that the decision was final. So of course one of the most important things for Yoongi was to find a place to live, which he could only do so much of online: he’d need to come to Seoul in person.

“You can just come crash at my place,” Namjoon told him on the phone. “It’s only a studio apartment, but I’ll take the couch. No need to spend the money at a hotel.”

“No, I can’t do that, it’s too much of an imposition,” Yoongi protested.

But Namjoon wouldn’t hear of it. He played the hyung card and insisted, and Yoongi eventually gave in with some embarrassed half-joking whining as usual. So Namjoon met him at the train station and managed to buy nearly all of his meals and coffees while he was in town, and even came with for moral support for a few apartment tours. (He would just pull a few late nights in the next days, after Yoongi had gone, to catch up on his work - it was worth it to make sure Yoongi was being taken care of as he deserved.)

“Thank you again for letting me stay,” Yoongi said, standing hesitantly right next to Namjoon’s (freshly changed just that morning) bed after his very long first day in Seoul.

“Of course, like I said, anything I can do, let me know,” Namjoon assured him.

He busied himself putting a blanket and pillow on his couch while Yoongi rustled around in his small duffel bag and went to the bathroom to get himself ready to sleep. He was lying down scrolling on his phone by the time Yoongi came back out, turned off the last light, and tucked himself in.

“This is almost like the old days,” Yoongi said into the darkness, sounding nostalgic.

“What, you stealing my bed?” Namjoon teased him.

Yoongi giggled, and Namjoon knew exactly what he meant.

“No, just the dorms!” Yoongi said, play-exasperated. “You’re what, less than a meter away?”

Namjoon considered the layout: the bed and the couch more-or-less side by side so that the television on the other wall was visible from either.

“Yeah, probably about that,” Namjoon agreed. 

“I remember what you told me in Daegu,” Yoongi said, his voice more serious. “And I really hope you don’t still feel bad. That you’re not doing all this out of guilt.”

Namjoon could sense him waving his hands around in the dark, a little rustle of fabric. 

“No, I believed you when you told me not to feel bad,” Namjoon assured him. “I’m doing all this because…it’s important to me that, since you told me your life has been really good, that it stays that way. And I want to be part of it.”

“Okay,” Yoongi murmured back. 

They lay there in silence for a moment.

“I’m not sure about that place right next to the park,” Yoongi said suddenly, “The bathroom was kind of terrible and cheap, I think it would drive me crazy if I lived there.”

Namjoon smiled to himself, the fidgeting of Yoongi’s hands on the bedsheet above his chest just barely visible to him now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark. He couldn’t sleep and wanted to keep chatting - so that was something more Namjoon could do.

So they talked late into the night, discussing the merits of the apartments they’d seen and the neighborhoods of the ones they were visiting the next day. Namjoon was glad he’d been such a wanderer - ranging all over the city to discover its secrets, visiting friends at their places, moving several times over the past ten years - so that he had actual information he could share with Yoongi about a place as vast as Seoul. Lying there as they dreamed up a dozen different variations of what Yoongi’s life in Seoul could look like, it once again felt like no time had passed and they were the same two boys as ever - just embarking on a different adventure than the first time.

💗💗💗

When Yoongi’s brief whirlwind visit was over and he was on the train back to Daegu, Namjoon was surprised by how much he missed him. It ached a little, even. Namjoon laughed at himself. Patience. He’d gone without Yoongi for ten years - he could hold out for a few more weeks. And they could text during the day and call in the evenings, and tell each other about their days. Yoongi seemed to miss him just as much, always responding to his messages quickly, even sending a few selfies. Namjoon found each one just as charming and enchanting as the last.

But then, even though the wait had seemed interminable at the time, all the fuss and logistical wrangling came to an end, and Yoongi was installed in an apartment in Seoul over a long weekend. Namjoon couldn’t quite believe it was real - couldn’t quite believe how kind and wonderful life had become.

But he met Yoongi right outside his (much larger) office after his first day there, and Yoongi beamed at him tiredly and walked side-by-side with him to his car. Yoongi was here in Seoul. Namjoon opened the passenger door gallantly, enjoying the way he could make Yoongi smile and blush and raise up his shoulders just by making these little gestures of care.

And that, of course, was nothing compared to his reaction when Namjoon - after walking around the car and getting himself into the driver’s seat - reached into the backseat and retrieved a bouquet of flowers which he handed over to him with a “congratulations.” Yoongi was quite literally speechless for a solid thirty seconds, looking down at the brilliant dome of coral-hued peonies while Namjoon buckled in and pulled out of the parking lot. His heart was hammering in his chest even as he tried to play it cool, hoping that Yoongi would accept the gesture.

“Wow, thank you,” Yoongi finally managed to murmur, still turning the bouquet to-and-fro. “They’re beautiful.”

“You deserve to be celebrated for your big promotion,” Namjoon said, still grinning proudly (and cackling with triumph on the inside). “It’s a huge accomplishment! How did your first day go?”

“Ah, you know, the first day was just meeting people and going through trainings like it usually would be, nothing very intensive,” Yoongi explained, making a visible effort to focus. “It went well though, it seems like a pretty efficiently run place, and I think I’ll fit in nicely.”

“That’s wonderful!” Namjoon replied. “Now, I figured you’d be pretty drained at the end of the day, so you’d rather eat at home than at a restaurant, so I already have food too.”

He pointed to the back seat with his thumb just over his shoulder, prompting Yoongi to turn his head and peek. And there, sure enough, were two thin plastic bags full of take out containers, still steaming hot.

“Wow,” Yoongi murmured again.

“I promised I’d take care of you if you moved here,” Namjoon reminded him.

Yoongi hummed in acknowledgement. Out of the corner of his eye, Namjoon saw him bite his lip and touch some of the petals with careful fingertips.

“Welcome home after your first day!” Namjoon crooned as he burst into Yoongi’s apartment right behind him, holding the food and the flowers so that Yoongi could open the door.

“Hyung!” Yoongi protested laughingly, shoving his shoulder in embarrassment.

Namjoon just let himself be pushed, then set all the things down and got to work getting all the food out of the bags and spread on the counter. Beside him, Yoongi took the flowers and scrounged up a beat-up plastic pitcher to serve as a vase. Namjoon happily rattled off the contents of each container as he popped the lids open, feeling too light-hearted and giddy to be normal about it, knowing that Yoongi was listening even though he gave the appearance of being completely absorbed in gently nudging the flower stems to get the bouquet arranged just so.

“Now, enjoy!” Namjoon said, backing away.

Yoongi turned from the flowers and stared at him, his own small smile fading away.

“Wait, where are you going?” he asked, glancing down at the shoes still on Namjoon’s feet. “Aren’t you staying to eat with me?”

“Well, I just thought…” Namjoon said, suddenly unsure of his whole plan, “um, I know you must be exhausted with not only today but also having to work after a long weekend of moving into a new place. So I thought I’d take care of transportation and dinner for you, and then let you recharge your battery in peace. It’s fine, I want today to be-”

Namjoon ground to a halt when Yoongi actually pouted. He turned his face to Namjoon, eyes big and lips together.

“Hyung,” he complained, “please stay.”

And then Namjoon, though the words of agreement formed instantly in his brain, was unable to physically reply because Yoongi stepped forward and gently grabbed his hand. There was his thumb again, grasping right across the meat of his palm.

“Please,” Yoongi repeated.

“If you want me too,” Namjoon managed to croak out, even though his heart was suddenly beating so strongly it seemed to make his vocal chords vibrate on their own.

“Yes,” Yoongi said, sliding his fingers around Namjoon’s wrist and leaning closer.

Namjoon may have spent his whole life rethinking and overthinking everything, but he would also have liked to consider himself capable of stepping up into the moment when he needed to. And what a moment this was: Yoongi gazing at him so hopefully, looking just as pink-cheeked and sparkle-eyed as he had back when he was nineteen, full of life and wishes that Namjoon was enjoying being close just as much as he was. 

Namjoon thought back to the raw, clumsy, chaotic boy he’d been. How much he’d wanted Yoongi’s attention and company back then - how much of a wreck he probably would have made of Yoongi’s tender heart with his unready hands if they’d acted on their mostly unexamined feelings at the time. Yoongi deserved someone better as his first love. Namjoon hoped that, somewhere in the interim, he’d gotten one.

Namjoon had felt so mature as a twenty-one-year-old leader trying to coach and protect his nineteen-year-old maknae - but oh how foolish that seemed looking back now. They’d both been babies. But time had passed, they had grown, and here they were again, their paths crossed and now intertwined. Yoongi was once again looking at him expectantly, across a distance that would take less than a breath to close.

So Namjoon yielded to the barely-there pressure of Yoongi tugging on his hand, and leaned in and kissed him. His lips were just as perfect as he’d always imagined they’d be, whenever he turned over their lost moment from so long ago in his mind. But never again would he have to regret how that ended, because in the end it had just been one little step on the journey that had brought them here. 

Yoongi kissed him back, pressing his body close and turning his face to the side, warm and lovely. They were closer than they’d ever been before, closer than when they’d hugged, closer than when they’d crowded onto a couch together, even closer than when they’d accidentally shared a bed out of exhaustion. This was something Namjoon had wanted to do for longer than he could even really comprehend, and yet something totally new at the same time. 

Then Yoongi stepped back, blushing and starry-eyed, and squeezed his fingers around his wrist and let go. Namjoon couldn’t take his eyes off of him, only dimly aware that he was standing there with his mouth open and his hands still yearning forward a little.

“Thank you again for dinner,” Yoongi managed to whisper, looking like his heart was hammering just as hard and giddily as Namjoon’s. “You’ll join me, won’t you?”

“O-of course I will,” Namjoon agreed, rubbing his hands on his thighs and trying to collect himself.

Yoongi got out plates while Namjoon kicked his shoes towards the door.

“You’ve had a long day, you’d better eat well!” Namjoon added jovially, trying to regain the plot he’d so thoroughly lost.

Yoongi smiled at him, plate in hand.

“Yes, hyung,” he agreed sweetly, delighted to be cared for and cherished, and to spend time together.