Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Namjoon’s whole face is wet when he finally staggers backstage. He’s sweating buckets, but he’s content — he might even be so bold as to say that he killed it tonight. The venue was pretty packed and he managed to get the crowd thoroughly hyped up for the final act.

The club they’re performing at is medium-small and dark, the sour spilled-beer stink permanently infused into the floor. However, they’ve got an excellent PA system and an event manager who’s really good at her job, and thus every Thursday night people line up practically around the block to see the latest and greatest of what’s happening in underground hip-hop.

Namjoon goes to grab a beer from the little sticker-covered cooler in the corner of the backstage room, mostly out of habit, before he remembers that he has to pee and determines that enough minutes have passed that it shouldn’t be too awkward for him to go back out to the crowd. People have moved on since he finished his set, some going over to the bar to get a fresh drink, or outside to have a smoke, before the last and most anticipated act of the night comes on.

He goes out the door that leads to the “auditorium” part of the venue (not that this little venue at the back of a divey bar really warrants any part of it being referred to as an auditorium, but y’know, the part where people stand and listen), and strolls through the crowd towards where the bathrooms are. A couple of people do double takes as he passes; he was, after all, just up on stage a few minutes ago, making them bounce and whoop, but no one approaches him or says anything. Namjoon probably wouldn’t admit it, but he’s just ever so slightly disappointed by that — because nothing beats the feeling of some stranger awkwardly coming up to him after a performance and saying something like “uh hey man, sorry to bother you, but wow you were so good up there! Do you have anything recorded?”

When Namjoon enters the men’s bathroom it’s surprisingly empty, probably because the bathrooms in the basement are slightly nicer, or, in any case, easier to do drugs in. When he gets into his stance at one of the urinals though, he hears the door creek open. He throws a glance over his shoulder and oh, it’s just Zico, his friend and fellow performer who happens to be the night’s headlining act.

Zico flashes him a wide grin before getting situated one urinal down from Namjoon. “Hey bro! You murdered out there, good job! Thanks for getting them all good and wet for me.”

Namjoon cringes internally at the choice of words. “Uh, hah, you’re very welcome. Thanks man. You all ready for your set?”

“Yeah, I'm pumped. It's just, you know, that thing where you’re just about to go on stage but your bladder suddenly decides it’s the size of a golf ball and you need to pee like 15 times.”

Zico finishes up, zips up his fly and leans on the wall to face Namjoon, arms crossed over his chest, eyes going wide like he’s got some really juicy gossip to share.

“Hey, guess who I fucking saw out in the crowd during your set!!”

“Uh… Who?” Namjoon kinda hopes it was a representative from one of the cool labels he wishes would wanna sign him, although he doesn’t allow himself to get too hopeful.

“Do you remember that skinny little punk from Daegu who used to hang around us, always acting all tough? The one that got signed with an entertainment company last year?”

“Min Yoongi?”

“Yes!! That guy! Have you been keeping up with that whole thing at all??”

Namjoon decides the best course of action would be to tell Zico the truth, but maybe not all of it. “Yeah I think I’ve seen some stuff online. I mean, his whole crew was pretty decent and we used to chat sometimes so uh, I was kinda curious to see how he’d do as an, uh, idol…”

Zico barks out a laugh. “Hilarious, right? Did you see how fast he went from acting like a wannabe gangbanger with his little Daegu crew, to full-on dancing on stage in a full face of makeup and women’s clothes?? Can you believe that lil twink bitch has the nerve to still call himself a rapper?”

Namjoon isn’t sure how to answer that so he just shakes his head and puts on a mildly bewildered expression.

Zico goes on, “and he goes by Suga now, which is like, almost as gay as Gloss. Almost. What a fuckin joke. He claims he's still making hip-hop, but the minute he got a chance at idol fame he sold his soul and jumped right onto that bandwagon! And now he's out there fuckin… wearing smokey eye makeup and dancing around like a little girl in a fucking cat collar!!“

Zico cackles and slaps his knee theatrically. “He’s like… lil meow meow out there, fuckin…” Zico sticks his tongue out and makes a gesture like a cat holding up one paw, and Namjoon can’t help but laugh at that.

“Lil meow meow,” Namjoon mutters and shakes his head, “that’s funny. Suits him.”

“Right? I just don’t get how he thinks he has any business still showing up to a night like this after he went full homo in a heartbeat. He’s out there fuckin… reapplying his lip gloss while we’re still in the trenches putting in real work. I swear…“ Zico shakes his head and looks at Namjoon like he’s waiting for him to agree, and Namjoon—

He doesn’t know what to say. Namjoon swallows hard. Fuck. Think quick. “Yeah that’s uh… gay.”

“Right?? Fucking sellout. Oh my god, I bet he came here just to try to get all up on my di—“

—a bathroom stall door is thrown open with a loud clatter.

Namjoon just barely manages to spin toward the noise to catch a blur of the man in question, as he storms out of the bathroom. He looks even smaller than Namjoon remembered, swallowed up by an oversized black hoodie over torn black skinny jeans and sneakers. Strands of soft bleach-blonde hair stick to the sweat on his forehead, face like a thundercloud. He bangs the bathroom door shut on his way out.

Namjoon is at a loss for words, mouth agape, as if they’d just seen a ghost.

Zico clasps a hand over his mouth and squeals into it, then giggles,

“Holy! Shit! Bro. Speak of the devil!! Did you know he was in there??”

Namjoon throws his hands up in exasperation. “Fucking… of course not!! I thought the bathroom was totally empty, I would’ve warned you!”

Zico just chuckles and shakes his head. “Welp, it's not like I was saying anything he shouldn’t already know anyway. You know me, I just tell it like it is.” Zico’s smiling like it's not a big deal, like he just accidentally sent a text with a typo that autocorrect had changed into something hilarious.  “Oh my god, that was so fucking funny. Anyway, shit, the stage is calling my name. Wish me luck.”

“Yeah uh… good luck up there.”

“Thanks man. And if lil meow meow comes begging you for my number, tell him I don’t want nuthin to do with that gay shit, ya hear?” Zico slaps Namjoon on the shoulder on his way out.

“Yep. Yeh don’t worry.”

Zico exits, still chuckling to himself and Namjoon just—

He feels like shit. He turns on the tap to wash his hands and then just stands there, letting the cold water run over his hands for a little too long, while trying to collect his thoughts.

Namjoon feels like shit for a multitude of reasons, the first being that Namjoon himself is, actually, gay.

He’s not quite out yet — not to most people anyway; he's too anxious about it wrecking his chances of making a name for himself as a rapper. He doesn’t want to use it as a gimmick either — not that he has anything against rappers that are out and loud about it (he fucking loves that they exist actually, and wishes that one day he’ll be so brave). But. He just wants people to like him cause he’s a good rapper, above anything else. Not because he’s good for a gay guy, or because he’s controversial, or whatever. He just wants to be recognized for his craft first, and then, he keeps telling himself, swearing to himself, then he’ll come out with a bang. As soon as he accumulates a significant fan base, he’ll use that as a platform to speak out, loud and clear, on his own behalf and on behalf of everyone else who has trouble getting their voice heard because society doesn’t think they deserve to have a voice. This is the promise he’s made to himself.

But for now, Namjoon is a coward. He hangs around with dudes like Zico because, sure, he’s very talented and he’s a “fun guy”, so to speak, but he also says shit like… all the shit he just said in the bathroom while they didn’t know Yoongi was listening. And Namjoon not only doesn’t say anything about it; he pretends like he agrees. Pretends like he’s the same as Zico. And isn’t that, he wonders, in a way just as bad as actually agreeing with those sorts of opinions?

Namjoon lets out a heavy sigh and splashes some cold water on his face before looking back at his reflection in the graffiti-clouded mirror.

There are so many reasons why Namjoon should’ve spoken up to defend Yoongi, he thinks. He should’ve spoken up because what Zico was saying was really mean and homophobic. He also should’ve spoken up because Namjoon is gay himself, and letting his friends keep assuming he’s not is just spineless at this point. But most of all, he should’ve spoken up for Yoongi because he likes him. Really likes him.

Namjoon had always thought that behind the gang-signs and the occasional bursts of attitude, Yoongi was a really genuine, talented, sweet and hardworking guy. Sure, they weren’t super close, but before Yoongi got signed he used to see him at a lot of events and parties. They’d talked often, and Namjoon always felt a connection with him, like there was a potential for a great friendship there. Like maybe they were even the same, perhaps sharing similar struggles.

There had been one particular after-party where they’d ended up deep in conversation on someone’s dingy old couch for hours. They’d talked enthusiastically about music, their goals and their dreams, a little tipsy and soft, only noticing when the sky started to lighten in the early morning hours that everyone else had passed out or gone home long ago, music still thrumming low through the living room speakers.

They’d been inching closer together as they talked quietly through the night, and Namjoon had thought, in that moment, that he could and he should maybe just lean in and kiss Yoongi on his pretty little kitten mouth. The mood had seemed ripe for it. Yoongi had been looking at him in some type of way… But Namjoon had chickened out, too scared of reading the mood wrong, of embarrassing himself and getting mocked.

He’d asked for Yoongi’s number instead, on the pretense that he needed help with a track he was working on, one of the ones he’d been telling Yoongi about. Which, to be honest; Yoongi's help was something he wouldn’t mind getting either way. He was talented as fuck, and not only could he produce his own music, there was also something so completely mesmerizing about someone so delicate with such a pretty mouth spitting as hard as Yoongi did, swearing as much as he did, and doing it with such measured skill and tact.

After acquiring his number, Namjoon had texted Yoongi a few time asking him to hang out. Incidentally, that had been right around the time Yoongi got signed as a soon-to-debut trainee with an entertainment company, and he had always politely declined, saying that his schedule was too hectic at the moment, but he’d love to get together at some later date, as soon as he got some free time. Still, he’d never contacted Namjoon at any later date, and after a few attempts at getting Yoongi to hang out with him, Namjoon decided to give up. Figured he had read the situation wrong after all, and that he should just leave the poor guy alone, never mind how hot he was or how well they got along.

When Yoongi’s debut with his idol group had garnered some attention, Namjoon had texted him polite congratulations and received sincere thanks in response, but that was all their communication had boiled down to. He’d accepted that he’d just have to watch and cheer for Yoongi from a distance. More specifically, from the safety of behind his laptop screen at home.

More often than not Namjoon's cheering turned into him whining about how hot Yoongi looked to his roommate, Jung Hoseok, who also happened to be one of the handful of people Namjoon was already out to. Hoseok did hip hop dance and choreography, and ran in some of the same circles as Namjoon did, (and as Yoongi had done too, before he got too busy,) and they watched all the live stages and performances of Yoongi’s group together as soon as they came out. At first Namjoon had sort of thought it would be weird to see Yoongi dancing, that he’d look silly and they’d laugh, and that it would help Namjoon get over him. But Yoongi wasn’t even bad at dancing. He actually wasn’t bad at all and he looked hot as fuck while doing it, so instead of laughing and getting over him, Namjoon had to sit there yelling about how good he looked and sounded, and wondering out loud if things could’ve been different if he’d just made a move to get closer with Yoongi sooner, if he’d just actually had the balls to lean in and kiss him that one night on the couch…

Alas, he hadn’t had the balls. He’d had some private moments, after someone uploaded a 'Suga focus'  fancam of Yoongi performing and dancing on Youtube; a video he played in the safety of his bedroom, over and over again, allowing himself to fantasize about what might have gone down if a kiss on the couch had happened — fantasies to which he masturbated furiously and shamefully.

Shamefully, because Yoongi probably hadn’t even been interested, wasn’t interested, and he was busy with his new, slightly more glamorous life anyway.

So what’s he doing here tonight then? Namjoon thinks. Zico’s starting to blow up, I guess. Idol rappers would be smart to take a page out of his book, even though… Namjoon does wish that fame would come to someone… a little bit nicer.

Namjoon can hear, judging from the booming bass and cheers coming in muffled through the door of the bathroom, that Zico’s set has already started. It’s high time he get out of the bathroom too; a couple of guys are in there now, looking at him kinda funny as he’s just standing there, staring dead-eyed into the mirror.

Namjoon finally gathers up the sense to exit the bathroom, feeling like shit still. Unsure of how to proceed. I’ll just get a beer for now, he thinks. Then I’ll probably do nothing. Cause I’m a fucking coward.

Just as he’s about to push open the swinging door that leads back into the backstage area, someone clips him on the shoulder. Namjoon looks up, surprised for the second time in a very short timespan to find, again, Min Yoongi standing there, red in the face, looking no less angry than he did earlier (possibly even more angry, to be honest). He’s actually looking very much like he’s headed towards the front door to exit the club, while Zico is still on his first song.

“Yoongi!” Namjoon shouts over the music, panicked.

Yoongi is positively fuming, and Namjoon’s heart breaks a little bit when he catches his eyes.

Shit shit how can I fix this—

“Yoongi, I’m so s—“

“Shut the fuck up, you asshole!” Yoongi shoves him hard.

Namjoon, not exactly prepared to be shoved, staggers backwards through the swinging door. Yoongi stalks closer, following him in, more intimidating than Namjoon ever thought anyone under 175 centimeters tall could possibly be. The music booms on, loud but muffled through the walls, the rest of the club caught up in Zico’s performance and completely unaware of this possibly most stressful moment of Namjoon’s entire life.

“Yoongi, I can expl—”

“Oh yeah? You’re gonna fucking explain why you pretend to be my friend while that’s how you talk about me behind my back?”

Yoongi takes a step closer, jutting his chin out in a genuinely intimidating gesture, while Namjoon keeps shrinking backwards.

“You’re going to explain to me what right you think you have to talk about me like that, while I’m out there fucking breaking my back trying to make a living as an artist, while you’re down here playing your little tough-boy game? Lil meow meow?? You think that’s cute? you think that’s fucking funny??”

Yoongi is literally, physically, backing Namjoon into a corner while he talks, each word delivered with more venom than the last. Namjoon doesn’t stand a chance at getting a word in.

“Yoongi please I didn’t—”

“You didn’t WHAT?! ” He shoves Namjoon again, and his back hits the wall behind him. Namjoon realizes he’s backed all the way inside the gear closet — a little cubby on one end of the backstage area, shelves on both sides; storage space for mic stands and extra keyboard stands, some instruments and gear left behind by performers to be picked up later, masking tape, sharpies — things like that.

”You perhaps didn’t think through how absolutely dumb-as-fuck and juvenile the stage name Rap Monster sounds, before you decided to start calling yourself that, huh? Before you started critting other people's stage names, unsolicited? You didn’t think about how not all of us can just go swing by mommy and daddy’s house in Ilsan if we’re ever low on cash? Didn’t think that maybe taking a Kanye West track and rapping over it in the exact same way Kanye did, except, like, worse, that maybe that wasn’t the most brilliant, groundbreaking creative thought you ever had? That just “not dancing”  doesn’t exactly put you above anyone else now, does it?”

Namjoon’s pretty sure that he’s never wanted the ground to swallow him up as hard as he does right this second. His brain can’t even attempt to form a coherent sentence anymore. He doesn’t know where to begin, he already ruined it — making excuses would just make it worse at this point, and he doesn’t get a chance anyway because Yoongi’s on a roll, he just keeps going—

“Like, EXCUSE the fuck out of me for wanting to get paid for my work and not just wanting to perform in some shitty club for a few drink tickets and street cred. EXCUSE ME for wanting to step outside my comfort zone and take a chance that might allow me a bigger platform to connect to people through. I'M SORRY that one ramen cup per day wasn’t really cutting it for me anymore, and that I took the only opportunity offered to me for a better and more meaningful life. I’m so sorry that that’s not cool enough for you and your pissboy friends, in your stinky hole in the wall, where your piss-poor attitude will ensure that everyone will forget about you as soon as you stop being trendy.”

Yoongi effectively drives each of his carefully constructed points home by pounding his fist on the wall right next to Namjoon's head.

He’s literally going to beat me up, Namjoon thinks. Yoongi may be a small dude, but — looking at his clenched fists, relatively big and decorated with a number of solid looking rings, Namjoon determines that Yoongi could definitely throw a very painful, very serious punch. And Namjoon couldn’t fight anyone, even if his life depended on it.

Something about the thought of Yoongi punching him in the face goes straight to Namjoon's treacherous dick, for some unfathomable god-awful reason. Yoongi’s right there, all up in his face, jaw and fists clenched, breathing hard, looking ready to murder, sweat beading on his forehead in the hot stuffy backstage. Namjoon tries to focus every single one of his brain cells on combating his boner. Please, he tries to channel telepathically down to his dick, please don’t do this to me. I’ve experienced more humiliation than I think I can bear today and I don’t think I can survive more.

Think Namjoon, think, just say something, anything—

“You never—!” Namjoon is all but hyperventilating now, “—you never texted me to hang out when you were free like you said you would!”

What the fuck Namjoon.

“Wha— I fucking what?!” Yoongi replies, look of bewilderment prominent on his face. He takes a step back, eyes still on Namjoon’s face, then traveling down him and up again, except, except, they seem to stutter to a stop somewhere dangerously close to Namjoon’s crotch, which, by an unfortunate fashion choice, is clad in jeans that are somewhat on the tighter side.

Namjoon watches as Yoongi’s eyes go wide, as realization dawns on him.

This is how I die. Namjoon thinks.

He’s going to kill me now and no one will hear me scream because Zico’s gotta be so fucking loud out there god damnit.

Yoongi points, literally points a finger at Namjoon’s skinny-jean-clad boner.

“You fucking—! You fucking hypocrite!! You’re a fucking—! Coward and a hypocrite!” Yoongi’s eyes are all but bulging out of his head.

All Namjoon can do in response is wince and nod pathetically.

But just as he’s getting ready to die, something unexpected happens. Yoongi’s eyes go ablaze, and all of a sudden it’s like Namjoon’s sweetest fantasy has been remixed right into the hell nightmare he’s currently experiencing.

Yoongi drops to his knees, looks at Namjoon’s boner head-on, looks up into Namjoon’s face, eyes still frantic, looks back at his crotch and starts undoing his belt faster than Namjoon thought a human could possibly undo this particular belt.

Yoongi freezes as soon as he touches the button on Namjoon’s jeans and looks back up at him.

“Do you want me to stop?” There’s no venom in his question, he just sounds like he genuinely really needs to know if Namjoon wants him to stop.

Namjoon’s dick doesn’t want him to stop. Namjoon’s brain, for some fucked up reason, really doesn’t want him to stop either. Well — a tiny part of his brain is yelling out, from way in the back somewhere, that this is weird, and probably a bad idea, and that he’s probably about to get his dick cut off — but that fear is miraculously in no way discouraging his boner. The rest of his brain thinks he probably deserves to get his dick cut off anyway, and it squashes down the small protesting part in pure desperation for the possibility of Yoongi’s perfect mouth getting closer to his dick.

He realizes he’s just staring dumbly down at Yoongi who is waiting for a response, visibly getting more agitated (is that even possible?)

Namjoon shakes his head vigorously.

“So — you don't want me to stop? You want me to do the opposite of stopping? You want this??”

Namjoon nods his head with an enthusiasm that is entirely uncharacteristic of the type of exchange that’s been going down so far.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Yoongi mutters to himself as he gets back to undoing Namjoon’s fly with immense efficiency, before pulling his jeans and underwear down in one hard, slightly violent tug.

Namjoon slumps back as his dick springs free and bounces against his tummy, his palms splayed on the wall behind him. He’s barely able to breathe in anticipation; he just focuses on holding himself upright against the wall. Yoongi is right there, on his knees, staring Namjoon’s dick straight in the eye with an unreadable intensity, lips slightly parted.

It’s not small, especially not in this particular moment. Head purple-pink and a fat vein running up the side of it.

Then, suddenly, Yoongi breaks out of his daze, wraps his right hand firmly around the base of Namjoon’s cock, shoves the rest of it into his mouth and sucks hard .

“Oh gOD,” Namjoon half whimpers, half moans.

Yoongi keeps sucking with fervor, eyes pointed straight up to Namjoon’s face, brow furrowed in determination.

“Oh my god. Holy shit,” Namjoon exclaims. Great, I’m gonna come in like 3 seconds and Yoongi’s gonna think that not only am I an asshole; I’m an asshole with no stamina. Welp. Might as well add that to the mountain of humiliation this evening’s had to offer me.

His brain reminds him that there’s still a small chance that Yoongi might be planning to bite his dick off. Well, he thinks, if this is how I die, at least it felt really fucking incredible, and the terrifying and beautiful little goblin currently inhaling my dick will be the last thing I see on this earth. What the fuck.

Yoongi suddenly lets up on the sucking to catch his breath, eyes still fierce on Namjoon. After a couple of deep breaths he puts his mouth back on the tip, now covered with saliva and precum, then trails his tongue along the underside and all around it.

“Oh my fuck Yoongi holy hell. That feels ah–amazing.”

Yoongi pops off the head with a loud smack and deadpans up at him—

“who’s gay now,”

—before shoving the entire dick in his mouth and down the back of his throat, as if he’s above the concept of a gag reflex.

“OhH fuuUuuuh—“ Namjoon’s breath is getting erratic, but he still manages to pant out a quiet “—well, technically, both of us are…”

Yoongi pulls the dick out of his mouth again, looking incredibly offended.

“Kim Namjoon, unless you’re telling me to stop, you better shut the fuck up — or else I’ll personally toss your pantsless ass out on that stage and announce into the mic that I found you back here jerking it to yaoi when you should’ve been out there supporting your friend."

Namjoon fearfully presses his lips together as Yoongi gets back to sucking hard and fast, obviously going for the kill now, but it seems like he changes his mind and pops back off after a few seconds, muttering to himself;

“Fucking big idiot, thinks he can be all sweet to me and then talk shit behind my back.”

He gets back to sucking, but takes a break soon again, looking up at Namjoon, “what are you gonna do if your baby-thug, tough-boy, try-hard friends come back here and see you like this huh? Literally anyone could walk in here. Are you gonna explain to them that you just pretend to be a homophobe to try to cover up the fact that you’re so gay that your dick got hard just from me breathing on you?”

Namjoon’s voice shakes, “I—I don’t—“ —his dick twitches and Yoongi cocks a brow at it and gets back to sucking.

He takes another break, still using his hand to jerk Namjoon off, shakes his head and mutters to himself “legs up to his armpits, tibetan-sand-fox-looking motherfucker, acting like he’s better than me…”

Namjoon just shakes his head weakly and clasps a hand over his own mouth to try to quiet his moans as Yoongi goes back to sucking, pressing his tongue hard against the underside of Namjoon’s dick and trailing it around the head like some sort of fucking tongue gymnast. Then he’s in for the home stretch, using every trick in the book, pace relentless.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi oh fuh I'm gonnacum I'm gon-”

Yoongi pulls back but keeps his perfect pink lips wrapped tight around the head, while Namjoon goes rigid and wide eyed and pumps load after load into his mouth, his fingers doing their best to dig into the wall behind him, a long high-pitched whine escaping his lungs.

When he finishes, Namjoon finally loses the ability to keep himself upright and slides down the wall and onto the floor, panting.

Yoongi looks at him, expression dark, mouth full of cum. Then he looks around the room briefly before going to pick up a small trash bin that’s sitting right outside the gear closet. Then he makes a show of spitting every last drop of Namjoon’s jizz right into the trash while looking Namjoon straight in the eye.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, takes a step toward Namjoon and wipes his hand on the the front of Namjoon’s shirt while giving him a scathing look. He takes a step back while tugging the hem of his oversized hoodie carefully down, looks a bit like he’s about to say something, but changes his mind. He turns on his heel and stomps out, leaving Namjoon dumbfounded on the floor, sweaty with his pants around his knees.

Chapter Text

Namjoon stays still on the floor for a second and catches his breath — thinks ‘what the fuck what the fuuuuuuuuuck’, and stares out at nothing. Then he remembers where he is, panics, and figures he’s gotta pull his pants up and pull himself together before anyone walks in on his bare ass. He can hear Zico still going out there on the stage, everyone no doubt wrapped up in the performance, but he hasn’t been paying attention to how many songs he's done so far, or how much time has passed, so the show could end any minute.

Namjoon decides he needs to get out of there; he can’t deal with any more interactions in this particular club tonight. He decides to shoot Zico a quick text before he goes;  

hey bro you’re killing it, i feel kinda off so i gotta head home, have fun tonight

He staggers out of the backstage, trying his best to seem less affected than he is, and makes his way through the back of the club towards the exit. A couple of people glance at him as he passes them, and he feels like he can see them thinking ‘wow, that guy definitely just got his dick sucked by a dude in the gear closet backstage, what a freak.’

He decides this is the type of night where he’s allowed to splurge on a cab. He manages to wave one down as soon as he’s outside and takes it straight home.

When Namjoon steps inside his apartment and closes the door behind him the lights are already on, which means that Hoseok decided to stay in tonight and take it easy. A blessing in these trying times.

Namjoon leans against the inside of the door, head spinning more prominently now that it’s finally quiet around him.

“Hey buddy! You're home early!” Hoseok’s voice comes echoing out from the living room.

Something about Hoseok’s voice grounds Namjoon; makes him really feel the impact of his situation. He doesn't know how to respond so he just doesn't. He just stands there, slumped against the door.

Hoseok yells out again, a little louder; “Namjoon?”

Then he can hear Hoseok shuffle up off the couch, and shortly he appears in the hallway, eyes wide.

“Oh thank God,” Hoseok clutches his chest, looking mildly startled. “You scared me! I thought you were maybe a burglar. How did it go tonight? Did the show end early?”

Hoseok is looking at him all chipper, eyes full of inquiry, and something about it breaks something inside Namjoon; a lump that had been forming in his throat since he watched Yoongi stomp out of the bathroom.

There’s no fighting it — Namjoon feels his eyes well up and his lip starts to quiver. He shifts his gaze away from Hoseok’s face and down to the floor, embarrassed, as fat tears start to roll down his cheeks.

“Oh god, was it that bad? Buddy. What happened?? Did you break their equipment? Did someone boo you off stage?? What the fuck happened Namjoon??”

Namjoon just shakes his head, brows knit and lip still quivering, trying to figure out how to even begin explaining why he feels like utter flaming garbage right now.

He takes a deep shaky breath.

“Uhm, you know…” he sniffles, “ugh!”

“Hey. Hey come sit with me on the couch. Want something to drink? I can make tea? Water?”

“Gimme a beer” — Namjoon looks at Hoseok, big eyes pleading.

“Okay, Okay bud. You're not, like, on the brink of alcohol poisoning, are you?”

“No!” Namjoon huffs, frustrated, “no, I'm like — fucking sober.”

“Okay.” Hoseok fetches a beer from the fridge and cracks it open before he hands it to Namjoon who's sitting down on the couch now, looking very much like a man who's questioning all of his life's choices.

Namjoon sniffles some more and wipes his face with his T-shirt before taking a big glug of the beer. “Ugh. Okay. Remember Min Yoongi?”

Hoseok sits down next to Namjoon, twists a little to face him, and nods with intent. “Blessed by the rap gods, face like a newborn baby cat, kinda awkward but sweet dude Min Yoongi? Yes I remember him. Wait, did he boo you off stage? Did he fucking come for you? I'll fight him Namjoon, I swear to god, I could snap his little twig legs with one hand, you know I can—”

“—Fucking… No. Hoseok. He didn't… I was in the bathroom. And Zico came in, and said some really… mean things about him.  About him, like, being a sellout and looking stupid and gay and whatever, which I didn’t… explicitly disagree with? Or, like! I disagreed with him in my heart, and in my brain, obviously. But I was too much of a coward to… disagree with him out loud.”

Hoseok’s listening intently, expression neutral, just letting Namjoon speak.

“Except! Fucking — guess who was in one of the bathroom stalls the entire time and heard everything that we — well mostly Zico — had to say. Min fucking Yoongi, that’s who! Just my fucking luck.” Namjoon shoots Hoseok a meaningful, sorrowful look.

Hoseok’s eyes go comically wide. “Oh fuck that's awkward. Damn. Was he really upset? Did you guys fight? Did he cry? Did you cry? It's okay if you did — it always makes me cry too when I accidentally hurt other people,”

Namjoon heaves a sigh and shakes his head weakly. “No, he… He didn't cry. He… He fucking…” Namjoon squints at Hoseok as if he’s waiting to be hit in the face with a wet rag, “he sucked my dick?”

Hoseok knits his brows in confusion, then shakes his head as if he just got cold water dumped on it.

“I’m sorry what?”

“I was mean to Yoongi and he was so mad, and he… he yelled at me! And cursed at me like, a lot. And he kinda shoved me when I was gonna try to apologize? He like, shoved me all the way into the gear closet backstage, actually. And, to be honest, I totally thought he was going to beat me up. But then just…” Namjoon lowers his voice almost to a whisper, ”my fucking super-villain of a dick got hard! And of course, with my luck, he had to fucking notice. And just… surprise! ‘Want me to suck your dick?’ And I’m like; ‘yeah, that sounds just swell!! Groovy!!’. Like, who am I to say no to that? But also he kept like… yelling at me? While he was doing it?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows are getting remarkably close to his hairline.

“Are you high?!”

“No!! You know I don't even like to drink before I go on stage, and this happened like, right afterwards. So I didn't even get a chance to have one beer. Zico wasn't even done when I left!”

“Okay, so if you’re not high, why does literally everything you just said sound made up?”

“Hoseok! This would be a ridiculous thing lie about. To you, of all people. Or to anyone, actually. Why would I lie about that??”

“Uhm, because you got high and started mixing your wet dreams up with things that actually happen in real life?”

“Hoseok I swear! You have to believe me,” Namjoon’s eyes are starting to well up again.

“Okay! Okay buddy. I’m sorry. I believe you. So, just to get this straight;” Hoseok squints at Namjoon while he recounts, “perfect rap-twink deity Min Yoongi — who you've definitely spent more time than can be considered normal drooling over on youtube — decided it was high time to suck you off after he heard you call him a sellout in a bathroom. Sounds fake, but okay. And you're crying because — what? Because it felt so good?”

That makes Namjoon full-on start crying again, voice breaking. “Noo! I mean, yeah, it felt fucking amazing. But now I feel like garbage Hoseok! Because he hates me so much! I've had a crush on him for like, two years, and he fucking, he fucking hates me! He hates me so mu-huch!”

Hoseok sighs and takes one of Namjoon’s hands in his own. “Buddy. Listen. He can't hate you that much if he put your penis in his mouth, right?”

Namjoon sulks down at his lap. “He made it pretty clear that he dislikes me. He roasted me.”

Hoseok shakes his head, “man, what I wouldn't do for a passionate, rage-fuelled B.J. from a hot little twink in a dark closet somewhere right about now…”

Namjoon glares at him, eyes bloodshot, not amused in the slightest.

“Okay okay, not funny. But you have his number right? Just text him and apologize for being an asshole? Again, he can't be that mad if he — really now Namjoon, he really just dropped to his knees and sucked you off right there? Text him! Say you're sorry and that the head was top tier. No complaints. Or… maybe just focus on the apology and leave the head out of it for now. Because, honestly Namjoon, that part still sounds made-up.”

Namjoons smooshes his face into the back of the couch. “I can't.” His voice comes out muffled. “Anything I say now will just make it worse.“ His tears are starting to stain the fabric of the couch.

“Okay buddy, okay, how about! We get some sleep, and think about what we can do tomorrow, yeah? Wanna come watch Adventure Time and fall asleep in my bed?”

Namjoon looks up from the back of the couch and nods solemnly.

“Ok bud come on. Brush your teeth and come get cozy. It's gonna be okay, I promise.”

Namjoon feels his exhaustion hit him as soon as he faceplants on Hoseok’s pillow. He falls asleep almost immediately to the quiet murmur of Adventure Time on Hoseok’s laptop, while Hoseok gives him soft head scritches.

When Namjoon wakes up in the morning, after sleeping like a log through the entire night, Hoseok has already gone to work.

The previous night’s events slowly come back to him as he regains consciousness. Even though a small part of him wonders if it was all just a bad dream, he feels a lump of dread form in the pit of his stomach as he concludes that he had, in fact, not dreamt it. He kinda wants to punch a wall.

He picks his phone up off the nightstand. The only new messages are a couple of texts that Zico must have sent after Namjoon fell asleep.

 lol ok dude feel better, you’re missing out on a wild afterparty tho, multiple chicks askin where u went!!

And then, 30 minutes later, 

ugh you’re always so fuckin picky anyway. More pussy for me i guess lmao

The texts don’t really do much to ease his anxiety. He briefly scrolls through his contacts and pauses on his entry for Yoongi, saved in his phone simply as ‘D-Town Min Yoongi’.

He wonders what on earth he could even say to him. Hey I’m so sorry about last night, please give me a chance to apologize properly, but also please let me put my dick in your mouth again please, because I don’t even remember the last time I came that hard, but also please be nicer to me while my dick is in your mouth, because I’m sensitive, and I think you’re like, too beautiful and talented for this world, and you already scared the shit out of me even before last night, but also that kind of turns me on, and, and…

He heaves a sigh and rubs at his eyes. It’s no use. There’s nothing he can think of saying that sounds even remotely appropriate, so he decides that the best course of action is probably to just accept that he fucked up this friendship for good, as well as any sort of prospects he may or may not have had with Yoongi. Best to just put the whole ordeal behind him and try to forget that it ever happened. Move on with his life. It’s not like Yoongi is gonna be going around telling everyone about what happened anyway, considering his own compromising role in the matter. It should be easy to pretend it never happened.

Namjoon decides to leave it at that; yeah he’s sad, but it will fade, it has to. And when Hoseok comes home in the evening and tries to bring it up again, asking if he’s thought about trying to apologize to Yoongi, Namjoon just shrugs it off and says he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, that he’s just gonna move on. And Hoseok leaves him be.

Except. Except.

Namjoon perhaps underestimated Min Yoongi’s willingness to speak up on compromising topics in, uh, very public ways.

One afternoon, about a week later, Namjoon is sitting in his studio when Hoseok calls him, immediately yelling when Namjoon picks up; “Dude! Namjoon! Did you hear the track Yoongi dropped on soundcloud this morning?”

“No? What? Soundcloud? Can he even do that still? Do idol rappers do that?”

“It’s like — not an official release from his group, but they’re still hyping it up on their social media and stuff. But they’re saying it’s uh, his personal project. Anyway! I think, maybe… perhaps… uhm…”

"Spit it out Hoseok."

"Okay it's obviously about you?"

"What do you mean it’s ‘about me’?"

Hoseok hesitates, "like… a diss track, sort of? But!! It's not that bad!"

Namjoon takes a deep breath. This can’t be happening. "He… he wrote a diss track about me? Nah… it's only been like a week. Why would he do that? How could he even do that? What does he say??” His breathing is getting faster. ”I — fuck. Hoseok please, I can't listen to that, I'm too scared. Please you have to tell me please—”

"Namjoon, calm down, it really isn't that bad. Uhm. He just makes fun of your stage name a little—"

"He mentions me by name!? "

“No, no, wait lemme finish, it’s just something offhand about rappers thinking they’re better than him while still using their 6th grade screen names on stage… which like, I just happen to know is—”

“Yeah okay okay no need to rub it in, what else??”

Hoseok sighs, “Namjoon why don’t you just listen to it, I promise it’s not that ba—”

“Hoseok PLEASE — I will probably at some point do that, but right now I’m so nervous I feel like I’m gonna hurl so please—”

“Okay okay I mean, it’s just pretty standard? Like, he sounds super good, of course, but the lyrics are just your average ‘jobless fuckboys tryna diss me can kiss my ass’…  but like, obviously, since I know what just went down, I thought of you — and then he says a thing that’s like ‘yeah, maybe you’re a monster, no-good back-stabber ’”

“SO HE DOES SAY MY NAME?!?!”

Hoseok sounds unsure of how to make this sound like not a big deal anymore. “Uh… he never says rap and monster in, like, the same… sentence? At least? Also, that line's kinda like a riff off Rick Ross’s line on Kanye’s Monster, so it's not… well, anyway. Most people probably won’t connect the dots!”

“Fucking murder me.”

“But Namjoon! He also! Talks about sucking your dick kinda? I think?”

“… … … what? ”

Hoseok takes a deep breath like he's about to say something exciting, while Namjoon's whole life feels like it's spiraling out of control. “So, okay, so there’s this line that’s like; baby talking smack behind my back, why u riding my dick like that when you know my tongue can make you come faster than you’d ever care to admit, 9,38 syllables per second—”

“—Hoseok are you reading these lyrics somehow?”

“…yeah he posted them along with the track, in the notes.”

“Fuck!”

“I mean — at least he’s admitting that he put your dick in his mouth yeah? Kind of? That makes him at least a little bit gay for you right?”

“Hoseok, are you seriously trying to frame his absolute obliteration of my ego as if it’s a positive thing? The whole fucking thing started because I called him gay in a non-favorable context, so I’m pretty sure this is not him trying to serenade me and be all ‘hey remember the nice time we had while I anger-fellated you?’ Not only did he decide to maximize my suffering by sucking my dick out of pure spite, he’s just fucking… determined to drag me so hard for it all that my ass will never recover!!”

Hoseok doesn’t sound very confident anymore, but he offers, helpfully; “…maybe he just wasn’t happy about how fast you came? Maybe he’s tryna fuck?”

Namjoon feels like his head is actually going to explode. “Hoseok don’t fucking test me.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I — I gotta like, think about this. I gotta go. I’ll see you at home tonight.”

“Ok buddy see you at home. Just don’t think about it too much. It’s gonna be okay.”

Namjoon hangs up and lays his face down in his hands. He’s really never going to recover from this. He decides he needs to just listen to the track, get it over with — rip the bandaid off.

It takes him a long time because he has to pause every 15 seconds to stand up from his desk and pace around the tiny room with his hands on his head before he can continue. He reads the lyrics as he listens, grimacing, and eventually he gets through the whole thing.

Then he just sits still and tries to will his brain to think clearly it for a bit.

Yoongi's probably talking about something completely different right? Some girl he's seeing, who betrayed him after he, uhm, ate her out?

Nah. No matter which way he squints at it, there are just too many details and subtle little hints in the lyrics that are… very specific to Namjoon’s whole… being. He's never going to live this down.

He doesn't get much time to wallow in that thought before his phone rings again, Zico this time, also yelling.

"DUDE! CONGRATULATIONS! You just got dunked on by a fucking pro!! Did you listen to it??"

"…Yoongi's soundcloud thing?"

"Uh, yeah, duh, unless you're currently getting dunked on from multiple directions in which case like, congrats on the infamy I guess."

Suddenly, Namjoon's blood goes cold as a thought pops up in his head. Does Zico know about the blowjob? Does everyone maybe know? Fuck. How will he come back from this. Fuckfuckfuck—

"How… do you know? That it's about me?"

"Uh, I happen to remember when we were in 6th grade and you signed up as RapMonster420_69 on like, every forum?"

"Okay. Okay, yep, got it."

"Also like, man, the dude doesn't even bother to mentioned me. Like, gee, thanks a lot. I put in most of the hard work back there if I can recall?"

"Uh, yeah. Yup, that’s true. I guess… me and him were sorta friends. Or like — not even friends; we just used to talk, like, at parties."

"Huh, yeah I guess I didn't even think about that." Zico laughs. "Dude, sounds like he was pretty fucking invested in your little chit-chats if he gets that torn up about you calling him out on his bullshit!"

"Uhm, I don't think we can say we were calling him out when we didn't even think he was listening…"

"Yeah whatever. Dude, do you know how valuable it is to have a fuckin idol rapper drop a diss track on your ass? If he gets any bigger, which, gotta admit, he's doing okay for himself already, but if he keeps it up people are gonna be talking about you for YEARS. And all press is good press, amirite?"

"Uh... yeah. Depends." Namjoon, come on, don’t give yourself away now. "I mean — yeah. That's a… way to look at it."

"It's a goldmine bro. You're gonna hit him back right?"

"What — no. I can't do that." I’d rather die actually.

"Ugh, why not? Come onnn, stoke the fire! This could get so good!"

"It's just… not my style."

"Oh, right, I forgot, all your raps need to be fuckin — intellectually stimulating, ethically sound and formatted according to the Chicago Manual of Style. All fun strictly forbidden. Sorry."

"Dude."

"At least think about it man."

"Yeah. Okay. Sure." Whatever I have to say to get him off my back, Namjoon thinks as he racks his brain for some type of subtle way to ask about exactly how much Zico knows, but then—

"Fucking funny though, how he thinks he can convince anyone that he’s gotten nasty with a girl ever in his life, right?" There's genuine sound of amusement in Zico's voice.

"…What?"

"Oh, that line he threw in there about getting his dick ridden and eating pussy. What a joke. First off, everybody knows that the extent of the action all them little idol boys see is giving each other handies in the shower, but even before he got signed he always acted like such a homo. And still he’s tryna tell us he's getting his dick wet, what a clown…"

Namjoon feels a wave of relief, because Zico does indeed sound tragically clueless. But he's also just tired. Emotionally exhausted from all of it. Plus, there’s this nagging, insufferable part of him that can’t let a logical fallacy go unchecked, no matter how much he tries to suppress it.

"Well, he doesn't actually specify a gender. Or like, explicitly say that he's talking about a girl, at any point." Namjoon, shut up.

"OH MY GOD! DUDE! Ugh, you're so fucking smart. No way, no way is he talking about a guy! That is so. wild. He really has no shame."

Reel it in Namjoon. "Haha, I don't fucking know. I think it's a cool verse though." Reel. It. In. Namjoon. "Uhm. Hey, I gotta get back to work though—"

"Yeah yeah, but you're gonna think about reciprocating though right? Bro, it would be so good—"

"Yeah I'll think about it. Talk to you later."

"Aight peace."

Namjoon hangs up feeling like he has a boulder stuck in the pit of his stomach.

When Namjoon gets home, Hoseok has already started putting together a mouthwatering taco dinner for the two of them. Namjoon helps him with the home stretch, and it calms him down a little after his busy day of self-loathing.

"Hoseok, you and I should probably just be boyfriends," Namjoon says before he's quite done chewing his first big bite of delicious taco.

Hoseok giggles, "I hate to break it to you, but if one angry little blowjob got you this fucked up, you definitely wouldn't be able to handle me."

"Ugh, never mind, I don't wanna know."

Hoseok laughs wholeheartedly.

"So—” Namjoon clears his throat, “Zico called right after I hung up on you. He was freaking out about Yoongi’s track. I mean — in a good way. Kinda. I don’t think he knows anything else happened besides Yoongi overhearing us in the bathroom."

Hoseok giggles, "yeah, no shit, since everything else happened in the literal closet. "

"It's — yeah. Whatever. I'm not even that worried about outing myself anymore, to be honest? Like — of course that scares the shit out of me, but I'd be even more worried about accidentally outing Yoongi or something, since a lot more people pay attention to him, probably. I wouldn't wanna do anything to hurt his… career."

Hoseok looks at him with a challenging smile. "From what you’ve told me it sounds very much like Yoongi's a big boy who's very capable of taking care of himself. Actually, it sounds like so far he’s taken initiative on all the things that might possibly out him."

"Yeah, ugh. I know. You're right. I'm also just,” Namjoon huffs through his nose, “just pissed at Zico. Like — when we were younger it was whatever, everyone was dumb then. Even smart people are dumb when they’re fifteen. But… fucking grow up already, yeah? How does he seriously still think that gay is acceptable to use as an insult? He wants me to do like, a response diss track now too."

"Sounds more like… you should be composing a kiss track for Yoongi!" Hoseok holds his breath while trying to bite back a smile, proud of himself.

Namjoon just exhales and looks at him disappointed.

“Yeah okay,” Hoseok nods and wipes the mischief off his face, “not funny yet. I’ll try to refrain from cracking jokes on this sensitive matter for now.”

Namjoon can practically see the cogs in Hoseok’s head start to turn before Hoseok opens his mouth again; “but… but! What if you did just tell everyone that you’re gonna release a comeback to Yoongi’s diss track, except, BAM! ” Hoseok makes little explosion movements with both hands and his eyes go wide, “you drop the track and it’s just all about how you wanna give him fat smooches!! Don’t you think he’d be at least a little bit charmed by that?”

Namjoon drops his face into his hands and then looks up at Hoseok from under his brows like really bitch?

“Yeah okay,“ Hoseok throws his hands up in defeat and raises his eyebrows, “okay, maybe a little unrealistic. Just trying to brainstorm here!” he slaps a hand down on Namjoon’s shoulder. “We’ll think of something.”

Namjoon can’t fall asleep that night. He’s not thinking of anything in particular as much as he’s just… playing every little detail of what's gone down over and over on a loop in his head.

In the middle of the night, when his eyes are burning from staring without focus into the grayscale darkness of his bedroom, everything feels so bleak. Everything's been permanently wrecked and there's nothing he can do about it. He made his cowardly bed and now he has to lie in it. Yoongi definitely hates him and never liked him and only blew him to give Namjoon some type of false hope that he could then immediately crush.

But after he sleeps a little — after he cries a little and turns on a silly podcast to try to distract himself and finally passes out and sleeps a little — he wakes up, and the sun has come up and the world is just a tiny little bit brighter.

He has cereal for breakfast with Hoseok in the kitchen.

"Hey Hoseok."

"Mm?" Hoseok looks at him, mouth full of cereal.

"Do you think it would be better if I just left the whole Yoongi thing — did nothing, tried to forget about it and got over it, ooorr—"

Hoseok knits his brows at him, listening intently.

"—or, if I maybe just said ‘fuck it’ and texted him, and, I don't know. Said something. Anything. Apologized or something. I don't know."

"I think thaaat," a tiny smile is threatening to make an appearance on Hoseok's lips, "you, Kim Namjoon, are smart enough to know what I think."

Namjoon looks back at him sheepish. "It's just — I don't think it'd be enough. To make him like me again."

Hoseok shrugs and smiles a melancholy little smile. "Not everything has to be some grand gesture. I mean, sure, it would be fantastic if we could all make grand gestures and say exactly what we mean at the perfect moment all the time. But most of the time it's better to do even just the baby-step version of what our heart is telling us is the right thing to do, rather than to do nothing at all. Even if it's hard, or we don't want to, or whatever. It'll still probably make us feel better."

Namjoon nods. Pensive. "Yeah man you're probably right."

He doesn't get a chance to take action before Zico calls him again though.

"Hey dog did you write a good diss yet?"

"Zico I'm not gonna do it."

Zico is starting to sound annoyed now. "Okay, shit! Then I'll do it, clearly I’m the only one who can get anything done around here. I was the one doing the bulk of the initial shit-talking anyway. He was probably just scared of coming for me — he hit you instead cause he knows how much of a fucking pussy you are."

Namjoon swallows thick. He can't really disagree with that last part. But he's also just — a little bit done with Zico. He's over it, enough to throw caution to the wind, a little bit.

"Okay man. You can do whatever you want. Obviously. And I mean, I don't — mind." Namjoon takes a deep breath. "But if you decide to make a diss track, just—" fuck everything Namjoon, you can do this, "—maybe refrain from like, making it all about his sexual orientation or, I mean, like — using 'gay' as a derogatory term. Maybe don’t do that." There it is, you fucking did it, you absolute moron.

There's silence on the line for a second before Zico pipes up, "dude, do you even know how a diss works? Do you think rap music is about like, reading considerate little politeness telegrams to each other?? Where's your fuckin head man?"

Fuck Namjoon how can you fuckin spin this. You gotta appeal to him somehow. How to appeal to Zico, but with a featherlight touch… appeal to his dick? Appeal to his dick.

"No, I just mean like — like, if you talk smack about him looking and acting like a girl, what are, you know, actual girls going to think about that?"

"Uh — that I’m cool as shit and that they wanna smash, like they always do? What's it got to do with them?"

Namjoon braces himself. "Well, I'm just saying; if you keep going on about how being feminine is somehow equivalent to being weak or lame or bad, I don't think that's gonna sit well with them, in the long run. Especially not with those badass rap-game bitches that I know you have it bad for. They're definitely gonna want to suck your dick a little bit less, if you keep harping on about that stuff."

"So…", Zico's quiet for a little bit, while Namjoon prepares himself for the worst. "So, what you're saying is that I'm likelier to have hot hot threesomes with sexy badass lesbians if I dunk on Yoongi for something other than being gay and acting like a girl."

"Uh… something like that."

"Namjoon, my man, my guy. See, this is why i keep you around. Even if you're a wuss. You're too damn smart for your own good."

"Uhm, you're welcome? Yeah."

They chat a little bit more about nothing special before hanging up and Namjoon tries to calm his heart, feeling a little like he just sprinted sup several flights of stairs

I didn’t exactly come clean but, he thinks, maybe that was a baby step.

Namjoon figures that, since he’s already “on a roll” with being brave, he might as well compose a text message next. He already kinda feels like he’s nothing, so it’s not like it can get any worse, right?

He opens up his contact list, scrolls down to D-Town Min Yoongi, taps ‘message’ and starts typing.  

Yoongi, I’m so sorry. I know there isn’t really anything I can say that will make up for what you heard in the bathroom the other day. But I want you to know anyway that I’m really sorry. I really value the friendship we had, and look fondly back on the talks we’ve shared. I’m rooting for your success so hard because you’re so fucking talented and cool. So I really should have said something when Zico went off about you. I should have stood up to him. But I didn’t because I’m a coward and I was scared of what would happen if he found out that I’m secretly super gay and also that I’ve had a crush on you for like 2 years. Which doesn’t excuse me pretending to agree with him at all. I just want you to know the stupid reason why I did it. I don’t want to fight. I deserve all that stuff you said about me. I’m just sorry.

It all flows out of him in a steady stream, and after he quickly makes sure that the spelling and punctuation wasn’t off he grimaces and hits send before he can change his mind. Ugh, longest text ever. He spends a couple of minutes staring at his phone screen like he’s trying to will Yoongi to immediately respond and make everything okay again. Then his phone screen goes black.

He puts away his phone. Then takes it back out after a couple of minutes. Nothing has changed. He paces around a bit, decides he needs a distraction, needs to try to get some work done. He takes the bus to his studio, checking his phone every two minutes. Nothing. He arrives at the studio and opens a new project in cubase. Stares at it. Checks his phone again. Tries and fails to focus. Starts a few sketches for tracks, but tosses them all out pretty quickly. Wonders after a couple of hours if maybe his phone isn't getting service in the studio. He calls Hoseok just to check, but it rings and goes to his voicemail. He hangs up. Definitely has service.

In the late afternoon he gives up on getting any meaningful work done and heads home. Sits at the kitchen table, tries to distract himself by watching some youtube videos, but mostly just ends up staring at his phone some more.

Hoseok arrives home soon after, bone tired and loose from dancing all day. He gives Namjoon a warm smile as he catches him sitting there, giving his phone a death stare.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Namjoon looks up at Hoseok, dejected. "I texted Yoongi."

"Good! That's good! I'm proud of you buddy."

Namjoon sighs and knits his brows. "But — he didn't text me back."

"Well… did you write anything that warrants a response?"

"I just sent him like, a fucking essay. Apologizing." Namjoon opens up the message, looking through it for the 15th time, "ugh, fuck, no I guess I didn't. Should I have done that? Fuck I probably should’ve done that. But how could I have done that without coming off as more of an asshole. Or like… making it even more about me. I don't know."

Hoseok tuts at him. "First rule of cyber-messaging; if you want a response you have to say something that warrants one."

Namjoon looks at him mildly appalled, "who the hell says cyber-messaging?"

"Oh, you know what I mean. It’s just like, any kind of texting or online messaging that isn't directly speaking to someone, with your voice, in real life. Or over the phone."

"Okay okay I knew what you meant, I just — you know. I told myself, before I sent the text, and while I was writing it, and even after I’d sent it — I told myself that the point was not to get him to respond. That I just needed to apologize, and that that in itself was enough. That I wasn’t expecting a reply and that it would be understandable and fine if he didn’t respond. But now I'm like — I really wish he would say something, anything, in response. What if he didn’t even get the message? What if he changed his phone number recently? And he'll never see it?"

Hoseok sits down across from him and puts a hand over one of Namjoon's hands and wiggles it a little. "Hey, hey it's okay. Of course you want a response. That's just normal. But it's a tricky situation, yeah?"

Namjoon swipes through the message again with his free hand. "Fuck. I should've asked him something like — I don’t know, I should've asked if there's anything I can do to make it up to him, right? Or maybe not. Maybe that sounds too much like I'm offering him sexual favors."

Hoseok giggles, "yeah, maybe in your horndog brain that's what it sounds like, I'm suuuuure there are all kinds of sexual favors you've been coming up with to make it up to him…"

Namjoon slaps him on the shoulder.

Hoseok slaps him back, very lightly. "Come on, I'm pooped. Wanna order a pizza?"

"Yeah," Namjoon replies with a pout.

Hoseok smiles at him fondly. "Man, we need to find you a hottie soon and get you out of this slump. Cause it won’t be long until I run out of comfort foods to cheer you up with."

A tiny little smile finally makes an appearance on Namjoon's face at that. He really loves Hoseok.

The rest of the evening passes without any kind of response from Yoongi. So does the next day. And the day after that. And the rest of the week. Namjoon tries to accept that it's not gonna happen; he's not going to get a text back. And he's going to have to live with that, think about other things, move on, get over it.

The following weekend seems like it might prove helpful, when Hoseok decides to throw a party at their place. It's something he'd been planning for a while actually, and Namjoon had barely even registered it, too caught up in his own head to pay attention, to be a good friend.

He supposes it's a good distraction. Hoseok had choreographed for a video for some friends of theirs, rappers who had just released a single and a music video to accompany it, for which they had held a viewing party at a popular bar. The bar happened to be in Hoseok and Namjoon’s neighborhood, and since they didn’t have any fussy neighbors Hoseok offered to host an after-party after the viewing was done. Hoseok’s circle of dance friends is, conveniently for both of them, ripe with cute guys who like dick, but who know well enough how to mix in seamlessly with the clueless hetero fuckboys that rule the rap scene.

Still, Namjoon can't seem to focus on any of it; on the party, on having a good time, on trying to chat up cute dance guys with nice butts.

It only makes him think about Yoongi's butt. Yoongi had put Namjoon's entire dick into his mouth — down his throat — and Namjoon hadn't even gotten to touch his butt. Forever a missed opportunity. He'd messed that up, just like he does with everything else.

Namjoon downs a couple of drinks, slightly faster than what what would strictly be considered healthy, probably. For a while he talks with a little blonde dance kid with overalls and the nice butt. At first he'd reminded him of Yoongi a little bit, a perfect substitute in his cuteness, Namjoon had thought. But as soon as he'd spoken with him for over five minutes, Namjoon had realized that, sure, he was all smiles and charm, but he wasn’t really anything like Yoongi. Besides being small, cute and blonde. Hoseok keeps glancing over at them as they’re speaking, and Namjoon feels like a burden; like he's someone who Hoseok needs to keep tabs on when Hoseok should be enjoying himself and his night and his own very recent, very impressive accomplishments. Namjoon hates this. He excuses himself, to the little guy's slight disappointment, and crosses the living room looking for a quiet corner to sulk in.

Suddenly, as he's almost at the back of the living room, a whisper passes through the crowd.

"Didn't they have, like, major beef recently?"

"Did you hear the track? Oh my god, do you think they're gonna like, battle? Haha I'd love to see that—"

"What if they just straight-up fight. I heard Sanggyun say that Hyosang said that he saw him shove Namjoon somewhere in the crowd at Zico's show the other day…"

Namjoon feels like he's gonna be sick. He glances across the room and he's tall enough to catch a glimpse of what is, undeniably, although still located at the opposite end of the apartment, Namjoon’s very own home; a skinny little blonde dude with sharp eyes and a pretty mouth.  

Yoongi's here.

Chapter Text

Namjoon is pretty sure he’s about to start hyperventilating. Hoseok, where is Hoseo —

—He doesn’t have to ponder that for too long before he sees Hoseok already hurrying towards him in long strides (but somehow also in a manner that probably seems casual to everyone other than Namjoon).

As soon as Hoseok gets close enough, he whisper-hisses at Namjoon; "I swear, I didn't think he would come. I mean, of course I invited the D-town boys, because we're friends. But I didn't think he would come?? He knows you live with me, right?"

Namjoon's about to lose it. "Oh my god , he probably doesn't! Fuck Hoseok, fucking shit, what do I do? I would leave, but this is my fucking house. I can't just—"

Hoseok places his palm gently on the back of Namjoon’s neck. "Shush, just be chill. It's okay. He's not three years old, he's not going to try to fight you. I’ll think of a way to get rid of him."

As they’ve been speaking, Yoongi has been slowly making his way further inside the apartment. Namjoon can see him inching towards where he's standing, greeting friends and exchanging fist-bumps with a lazy smile. Suddenly Yoongi catches his eye and Namjoon feels his neck heat up as all of his blood rushes up into his ears, before a cold shiver drizzles down his back. I’m going to die.

But if Yoongi is caught off-guard by seeing Namjoon in there, he somehow doesn’t show it at all.

In fact, it looks a whole lot like he’s headed straight towards where Namjoon is standing — not in an angry, stompy way, like Namjoon has gotten so used to at this point, but — he’s just slowly making his way towards him, calm and collected, as if Namjoon is just another friend he’s coming to say hi to.

Namjoon can’t do anything but stand there, frozen, dumbfounded, confused. Eventually, Yoongi arrives at where Namjoon is standing. A hush spreads over the people immediately surrounding them. Namjoon braces himself.

“Hey man,” Yoongi simply says, all casual with a quick nod up at him and an indecipherable little non-smile non-frown on his lips. Then he just keeps going, making his way around the room, greeting people and chatting.

Namjoon feels shell shocked. He catches snippets of mildly disappointed-sounding whispers around him.

“That’s it? Man I was hoping something juicy would happen.”

“Weren’t they supposed to be beefing? I bet it was all just a set up for clout, for that diss track or whatever. Lame.”

The disappointed murmur quickly dies down as people move on to other, more interesting topics of conversation.

Yoongi’s already halfway across the room again, chatting animatedly with his D-town friends. Namjoon glances desperately over at Hoseok, who just gives him a confused little shrug before turning his attention back to his dance friends who seem like they’re trying to impart some scalding hot gossip to him.

Namjoon feels like he just entered an alternate dimension. He doesn’t get it. Yoongi just… just what? What’s going on? This is even worse than what he feared the most — Yoongi blowing up at him, yelling at him in his own home, humiliating him in front of all their friends. This is just — complete dismissal, ambivalence. Like nothing ever happened between them. Either he doesn’t care about the long apology-slash-confession that Namjoon texted him, or he hasn’t read it.

Namjoon feels so stupid. Feels so stupid to have had his whole world turned upside down, to have been obsessing for two weeks over a guy who can so easily ice him out. A guy who pays him such little mind that it didn’t even occur to him how it might be a little inappropriate to just show up to Namjoon’s home unannounced, with the kind of history they’ve got now.

He realizes he’s just kinda standing there bewildered in the middle of the party, not talking to anyone. He can’t let Yoongi notice him be this affected. He’s got to get away from him. Gotta escape and go feel terrible somewhere safe where people won’t mock him for it.

Namjoon keeps his head down while he pushes through the crowd and into the hallway, towards his bedroom. He’s grateful that the party guests don’t pay him much mind as he passes; most people have a few drinks in them by this point and are caught up in conversations or dancing.

Namjoon opens his bedroom door, walking in on a couple of girls in the middle of a heated makeout session on his bed.

“Uh… sorry, but would you mind taking it somewhere else,” Namjoon asks them, more pleading than annoyed. They’re not thrilled about the interruption but they comply, fixing their clothes as they shuffle out the door.

Namjoon closes the door on their heels, finally alone, and immediately faceplants on his bed, exhausted from being in his feelings. He tries to will himself to not cry, because he’s probably going to have to get up again at some point and go back out to the party and talk to someone, or Hoseok will probably come in to check on him eventually — or maybe not. Maybe he’s a loser and a nuisance and no one fucking cares if he’s having the worst time of his life right now.

He’s in the middle of trying to squash down his pathetic self-pity when he hears the door creak open. So Hoseok’s decided to come check on his insufferable ass after all, sooner than he thought.

“Hey,” Namjoon says into his mattress, muffled and nasal.

He hears the door close and the footsteps come to a stop. No answer though.

Namjoon sighs and moves to push himself up into a sitting position. “Sorr–” he starts, before he cuts himself off at the sight of definitely-not-Hoseok.

Yoongi’s just standing there, right inside his closed bedroom door, the apathy that shone from his eyes earlier now completely replaced with the same intensity he witnessed in the club two weeks ago.

“Yoongi—” Namjoon starts, wary, before Yoongi cuts in;

“I’m sorry,” his voice small.

Namjoon looks up at him confused. “But I’m sorry—”

He doesn’t quite get to finish that thought before Yoongi’s crossing over to the bed — and in the blink of an eye he’s up on his lap, throwing his arms around Namjoon’s neck and smooshing his face into the crook of Namjoon’s shoulder, in a way that is simultaneously intense and apologetic.

Whoa, Namjoon thinks, but he doesn’t resist, and oh god Yoongi’s perfect little body is pressed warm up against his own body, and it’s making his head spin.

Yoongi pulls back and looks at him, brows knit. “Sorry,” he says with a pout.

Namjoon just shakes his head, confused because he isn’t sure if Yoongi is apologizing for jumping onto his lap and hugging him or – what exactly he’s apologizing for.

“I was really mean,” Yoongi continues, as if he’d read Namjoon’s mind.

Namjoon nods and pouts back at him, looks down into their laps and up again. “You were so mean,” he replies, a little whiny.

Yoongi takes Namjoon’s face into his hands. “Yeah I was really mean. I’m sorry.” he says, quietly.

Namjoon shakes his head but Yoongi continues.

“And I’m sorry I came to your house without warning you. And I’m sorry I just invited myself into your bedroom and… attacked you. You can ask me to leave if you want. I’d understand.”

Namjoon quickly shakes his head and gingerly wraps his arms around Yoongi’s waist. “This attack is… nicer than the last one. I’m still not sure what’s going on though.”

Yoongi chuckles quietly. “I just — I really really wanted to hurt you.”

“Well,” Namjoon takes a deep breath, “mission accomplished!”

“But”, Yoongi continues, “I don’t think you entirely deserved that. I was just — I was so upset that night. You know, back when… after I saw you perform at the club. And it’s just one of the things I know how to do when I’m really upset. To compose superbly written argumentative essays on why the person who’s making me hurt sucks , backed up with reciepts. Like — the guy I lost my virginity to was older than me, and he lied to me a little bit, and it hurt me, ‘cause I had it pretty bad for him.”  

Namjoon’s just looking back at him confused, listening, before Yoongi continues;

“…which has nothing to do with you. But I stopped taking his calls and wrote him this long, carefully composed e-mail with, like, an itemized list of what exactly made him an asshole and a loser. Because I’d realized he didn’t want to be with me at all, and I wanted him to hurt as bad as I did. And it totally worked, he was a wreck after reading that e-mail. And it felt pretty good to have that kind of power. But later, when I got a bit older, I realized that it wasn’t all about me, like — he was just a guy living his life and thinking about himself, and he probably didn’t set out to hurt me — he never really made me any explicit promises, I’d just put too much stock in him and the hurt just happened. But still now, when I get irrationally upset about stuff like that, it helps me to write it out. Except now I can produce music to go with my angry letters as well. Which, uhm. Maybe the audience for the fits I throw is a little larger than can be considered fair now but uh… I get like, insane and impulsive when I’m upset. I’m sorry.”

Namjoon shifts them around a little bit so that he can lean back on the pile of pillows at the head of his bed, where his headboard would be if he wasn’t a struggling underground rapper in his early twenties with no headboard in sight. He looks up at Yoongi. “Uhm. I don’t think ‘insane and impulsive’ are words that come to anyone’s mind when they look at you.”

Yoongi smirks at him. “It’s the rage in Lake Placid. Still waters run deep — you know, all that jazz.”

Namjoon scoffs, “yeah, no shit. It — it all makes sense now. You being a rapper and stuff. Being so good at it. You get upset a lot, uhm, it seems.”

Yoongi scrunches his nose. “I mean, sometimes. I really went through it that night though. Went through every emotion on the spectrum probably.”

“What do you mean?”

Yoongi sucks in a breath through his nose, looks down and starts playing with the strings on Namjoon’s hoodie.

“Well. You know how you’d been texting me a lot, asking to hang out and stuff?”

“Yeah, and you turned me down every time. How could I forget.”

Yoongi smiles. “Well, I figured you probably liked me. In like, more than a friend way. And I liked you back, so—”

Namjoon cuts in, blushing profusely, “—how the hell did you figure that? And why did you always turn me down then?”

“Well, first of all, you weren’t exactly subtle. That time we talked all night on the couch at that afterparty, and you kept going quiet and staring at my mouth. I was so annoyed that you didn’t just take the leap. But I figured you must’ve been in the process of figuring stuff out or, I don’t know. Anyway, I really did want to hang with you. But — Namjoon, I take my work really super seriously,”

Namjoon nods, “yeah, I know you do.”

“And I wasn’t joking when I said that like, I used to just go hungry sometimes, when I was still struggling to make things work. And then I got this opportunity, this one opportunity, and I wasn’t gonna take it lightly. Even if maybe not everyone can see the appeal in it, it’s a way for me to make a living while also doing something I love. And after I joined the uh, group, it was just a total whirlwind. Working really late a lot of nights. And it’s been hard to like, make plans for free time, not knowing when exactly I’ll have a day off until the last minute usually. But — since we debuted it’s been getting a little easier. And then I happened to see that you were performing when I had a night off, no plans, and I was like — yess — like, I took it as a sign from the universe that I should just go and say something. Like ‘hey bruh, let’s make out’ or something,” Yoongi giggles, “I don’t know.”

Namjoon is listening intently, wide eyed. “You came to my show to ask me to make out with you?”

Yoongi smiles and shakes his head, then nods. “Yeah something like that. I don’t know. Ask you out or something, more realistically. I wanted to surprise you, cause I felt bad about how many times I’d had to turn you down when you asked me to hang out. And I also just missed seeing your dumb big face. But then—” Yoongi swallows. “Then I actually saw you perform. And oh my fucking god you looked so good on that stage. Like, Jesus Christ, so fucking hot. That, plus all the sexual frustration I’ve had pent up since I moved into a dorm with a bunch of stinky dudes, where I don’t have my own bedroom and it’s a miracle if I even get enough privacy to get myself off in the shower…”

Namjoon tries very hard to not think about Yoongi desperately trying to get himself off in the shower while a bunch of incredibly attractive dudes try to break down the bathroom door.

“Like,” Yoongi goes on, “I’ve high-key watched recordings on youtube of all your performances that I’ve missed since I got tied up with the company. And sometimes one of my group-members watches with me — he’s gay as well and—”

Namjoon gasps, “there’s another gay guy in your group?”

Yoongi chuckles, “Namjoon, you pretty much have to dance if you’re in this type of business, and, newsflash, a lot of dudes who are good at dancing also happen to be gay…”

Namjoon’s mind flashes to Hoseok and his dance buddies. “Okay. Yeah I’ve got some idea.”

“Well, anyway, me and my fellow homosexual, I call him Tae, we watch your performances sometimes, and you just have this energy on stage that always just renders me incapable of containing myself, I’m always like ‘oh my god Tae I want to sit on him, I need to sit on that man. Please let me sit on him.’”

Namjoon is a little taken aback by that, at how nonchalant and unashamed Yoongi seems to be about admitting that he wants to sit on another man. But then he looks down at where Yoongi’s little butt is planted firmly on his lap, knees resting on the bed on either side of his hips. He glances back up at Yoongi, brow cocked, gestures down at their laps and says; “well, you’re sitting on me.”

Yoongi blushes a little and lets his eyes trail down Namjoon's body with a little smirk, all beautiful with his bleached-but-well-taken-care-of-probably-by-professional-stylists hair and his too-big hoodie. He just looks, for a little while.  

Namjoon feels hot under his gaze, and he can feel his blood start to travel south and his dick fattening up at that. He involuntarily runs his hands up Yoongi’s thighs and can’t stop himself from grinding his hips up a tiny little bit at the thought of Yoongi watching videos of him performing, of Yoongi telling his friend about dirty things he wants to do to Namjoon, of Yoongi touching himself in the shower—

Yoongi takes the movement as an invitation, leans forward with it and presses his perfect little lips onto Namjoon’s. Namjoon feels a bit like he’s soaring — this kiss might just feel better than when he had Yoongi’s hot mouth wrapped around his dick a couple of weeks prior, although he probably wouldn’t readily admit that.

It’s sweet and hot, their lips sliding and pressing together timidly for a while before Yoongi starts opening his mouth a bit, licking at the seams of Namjoon’s plump lips, and Namjoon easily opens up with a low groan, letting their tongues explore each other, fireworks going off in his head. I can’t believe I’ve got this perfect boy right here, on my lap, in my bed, kissing me, I can’t believe this is happening. Namjoon is about to start grinding up into him again when he cuts himself off and pulls back.

“I’m sorry — this is all — I don’t mean to go too fast or whatever. You’re just — yeah. Sitting on me. Like we talked about. Sorry.”

Yoongi smiles, fond, and says “dude, have you even been listening to me? You have no idea how horny I’ve been. I needed this like, yesterday. Last week. Two weeks ago. Six months ag—”

Namjoon nods quickly, “—okay. Yep. Got it. I still want to hear the rest of the story though. Like — you uh… came to the show, saw me on stage, and then what?”

Yoongi cocks a brow at him. “Oh you know what happened next.”

Namjoon huffs, frustrated, “No I mean — yeah but—”

Yoongi leans down and presses his forehead against Namjoon’s. “I’m just teasing.” He sits up again and sighs. “So yeah, I got there, I saw you, I almost mega-nutted in my pants because holy shit you were sweating a lot, and you were like, looking all tough and focused and hot as shit so, uhm. I got really nervous. Like, I had planned to be all casual, you know just show up like ‘heyy bro, surprise! Great show, I finally have some time to hang out now!’ …but then you got me all affected like, I just wanted you to fucking raw me right there on that stage—”

—Namoon barks out a laugh—

“—shut up, stop making fun of me, but anyway, so then you announced that you were about to do your last song, and towards the end of that I was like ‘shit shit I have to calm down.’ So I decided to go inside a bathroom stall just to take a few deep breaths and—”

“—Oh my god were you jerking off in there when we came in??”

“Ugh, no!” Yoongi pushes into Namjoon’s shoulder, not very hard, “don’t flatter yourself too much dude. I’m not that desperate.”

Namjoon cocks a brow at him and smiles, which makes Yoongi smile too.

“Anyway, I went in there to breathe, you pervert, and not to touch my dick. But then someone came in and I peeked out through the seam at the door hinge just to make sure the coast was clear before exiting, and like, shit, it was you. So then I thought ‘well, now I definitely can’t leave this bathroom stall because that’s not a very romantic way to reunite with my crush’, so I just tried to stay really quiet so I could wait until you left and then casually go find you out in the crowd. Except, then Zico came in and uh. Said all that. Crap.”

Namjoon goes serious and squeezes Yoongi’s thighs, his heart clenching as he replays the moment in his head and thinks about Yoongi alone in the bathroom stall, nervous and excited to talk to him, only to get hit with that instead.

Yoongi continues. ”And I just — it all came crashing down on me. All the excitement I’d built up. The nerves. And I know you didn’t say that much, but all I could hear was you laughing at me and agreeing with him, and it’s not like I could see your face, so I was just like. Shit. I was imagining everything wasn’t I? I’m so self absorbed that I really though Kim Namjoon had any type of romantic interest in me. But it was probably all in my head, he probably isn’t even gay. Not only doesn’t he like me — he thinks I’m really fucking lame. This is the worst night of my life.”

Namjoon feels like he’s going to cry so he pushes himself up and hugs Yoongi as tight as he thinks is possible without hurting him. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into the crook of Yoongi’s neck.

“I mean it’s—” Yoongi sighs “—I’m not going to say it was okay, because it wasn’t, but I’ve definitely said some nasty things about people too, things that I didn’t mean. But usually those people weren’t listening, and no harm was done. But then it just so happened that I was listening, which you couldn’t know, and it was a lousy situation. Anyway. I was so fucking embarrassed. And disappointed. And angry.”

Namjoon lays back down and nods solemnly up at him. “You were really angry.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Absolutely livid. I went out in the crowd again just like — stunned. And then I was like ‘what the fuck am I still doing here’, and was about to leave when you bumped into me and acted like you were gonna try to apologize. And I just fucking snapped. Like, fuck you, you condescending entitled straight-boy asshole homophobe, for leading me on like that. Eat shit and die.”

Namjoon lifts his palms up. “Whoa.”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh. “Yeah sorry. Like I said, I was really embarrassed and angry at you, you specifically, because I had a crush. Like, how could I be so dumb, right? But then all of a sudden we were alone in the closet and you weren’t even trying to fight back, and then you popped a boner. Which like — whoa, what? That threw me for another loop. And all the pent-up sexual frustration and, you know, the regular frustration too, it all came to a… head. Like, I still wanted you to suffer but I also still wanted to suck your bone marrow out through your dick. And the way I dealt with that was pretty messed up. And I’m sorry.”

Namjoon reaches up and cups Yoongi’s jaw with his right hand, pets his cheek a little with his thumb. “Yeah it was kinda messed up. But you did ask, and I did want you really fucking bad in any way I could have you, even if that was kind of insane of me too. And now we’re talking, so. I think we’ll probably be okay?”

Yoongi smiles and nods.

“I really did think,” Namjoon continues, “that you were going to beat me up. Like, no joke, thought you were going to punch me right in the face.”

Yoongi snicker. “Oh yeah? And you didn’t let that discourage your dick from trying to break free of your skinny jeans?”

Namjoon swallows and says, quietly, “since we’re uhm, confessing stuff; you have no idea how many times in the past two weeks I’ve jerked off furiously to the memory of you looking like you were squaring up to knock me out cold in that fucking closet.” Ugh Namjoon why did you have to say that out loud.

Yoongi giggles, eyes going wide. “Oh yeah? Want me to slap you around? Is that what you’re into?” He says it like he's joking, but Namjoon can detect a bit of intrigue in his gaze.

“I mean, yeah kinda. Maybe. But like, only if you do it in a situation where I know you don’t actually hate me. And you’re really nice to me afterwards.”

Yoongi gives him a smile that’s somehow simultaneously sweet and a little bit evil. “Sounds fair. We can probably arrange that. At some point.”

Namjoon feels his cheeks get hot at the mere thought.

Yoongi sighs, still smiling down at him. “I definitely don’t hate you.”

Namjoon smiles but tries to school it into a pout when he says, “you didn’t respond to my long embarrassing text message.”

Yoongi reaches out, pinches his bottom lip and wiggles it a little. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That’s why you came?”

“Yeah. Duh. Did you think I ended up here by accident?”

Namjoon feels stupid. “I don’t know…”

Yoongi sighs and rolls off of him, reclining back on the bed next to Namjoon.

“Yeah, my legs were kinda falling asleep,” Namjoon remarks as he pulls his knees up and rolls on to his side to face Yoongi.

“I read that message like fifteen times,” Yoongi admits, sincere, “and I wanted to respond, but. Everything I typed out sounded really stupid and like… insincere. And just weird. And it also sounded weird to be like ‘hey, let’s meet up and talk in person—’”

“—Yeah I would’ve definitely thought you were planning to beat me up.”

Yoongi flicks him on the nose. “You’re obsessed with me beating you up, you fuckin weirdo. Anyway, I saw this as an opportunity, when I heard about the party. And I know it’s kinda fucked up to just show up at your house unannounced after, you know. Everything. I’m sorry I punk’d you like this. But yeah, I just really wanted to see you. And talk to you. And tell you in person that I’m sorry.”

Namjoon rubs his nose on Yoongi’s nose. “And seduce me?”

“Yeah, maybe a little bit. Have I mentioned that I’ve been so fucking horny I thought I might die? I’m sorry if that’s not like, a chill attractive thing to say.”

Namjoon smiles. “I’ll allow it. You were a really good actor out there earlier, by the way. Very convincing. I thought you didn’t give a shit about me and that I’d imagined all the drama.”

“Right?? Thanks. I did my best. The company's been giving us some acting lessons.”

“Fancy.”

“But also like — sorry. I just needed an effective way to neutralize the drama so I could get a chance to talk to you alone in peace.”

Namjoon stiffens up. “Fuck — is the door locked? Did you lock the door when you came in?”

“Gee Namjoon, I don’t know — on a scale of one to jizz-your-pants-instantly, how convinced would you have been that I was going to beat you up if I had just fucking, crept in here without a word and locked the door behind me?”

“Good point!” Namjoon scrambles up and locks the door as fast as he can before getting back on the bed. “Jesus christ anyone could’ve come in here.”

Yoongi places a hand on his cheek. “Namjoon, even if they had, I don’t think you’d have to be terribly scared of that? All the people here tonight are our friends. Or at least Hoseok’s friends. Even those of them who don’t know that you’re gay, or haven’t guessed it; I don’t think they’re out to hurt you like that. And like — of course you should take your time to come out how you want to, to whom you want to be out to, in the way that’s most comfortable for you, but. Feeling scared is not good or helpful I think. Not in this case at least.”

Namjoon nods, contemplating this information. Then he tilts his head a bit to kiss Yoongi’s hand. “And what about you?”

“I mean—” Yoongi huffs. “My situation isn’t ideal. It’s not like I can be completely out proud and loud about it, mostly because I’m part of a bigger thing and, you know. It’s not just about me. But it’s not like I could be totally open about seeing women either, anyway? Or, it wouldn’t be easy at least, even if I just wanted to have a regular old heterosexual relationship. And in a way, hooking up with dudes is easier cause we could be spending all our time together and fuckin, practically smooching it up in public, and everyone would still just be like ‘awww, those two completely heterosexual guys have such a nice friendship!’”

Namjoon blushes, can’t help but picture himself dating Yoongi, spending time with him, holding his hand in public. Even if he knows Yoongi wasn’t talking about him specifically, just — dudes in general. He tries to squash the thought, afraid of getting ahead of himself.

“That makes sense. But is also ridiculous.”

“Yeah it is. But there’s still a lot that I can do. That I want to do. To try to have a positive impact. Nudge things in the right direction.”

Namjoon nods. “You’re so cool.”

That makes Yoongi laugh. “Dumbass.” He leans in and kisses Namjoon softly on the lips. A welcome change in pace. They’ve talked a lot and Namjoon is getting kinda tired, but the tired is instantly forgotten when Yoongi deepens the kiss, slides his tongue in and moans softly.

“Fuck. Get back here.” Namjoon grabs Yoongi by the hips and hoists him back up to sit on top of him. He gives Yoongi’s butt a firm squeeze, living the dream, as he settles back on Namjoon’s hips. “Your little butt is so cute.”

Yoongi scoffs “whose butt are you calling little, you no-ass-having string bean.”

Namjoon pulls back and feigns offense, “oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know this was the release event for part two of the ‘let’s ruin Namjoon’s life’ diss track.”

Yoongi laughs and gives Namjoon the lightest little joke-slap on the cheek. “Shut up you dork.”

Namjoon reacts by throwing his head back, parting his lips and moaning with considerable dramatic flair “ah — oppa, I like it, please hit me more!”

Yoongi barks out a laugh at that, and Namjoon is about to laugh too when — *smack* — a proper slap lands on his cheek, the noise ringing off the wall behind his head. It’s not hard enough to properly hurt, but enough to sting a bit and make his cheek tingle. Namjoon gasps, the sensation going straight to his dick. Yoongi, his hand resting on Namjoon’s cheek, opens his mouth to say something that looks to be in the shape of a ‘sorry—’, but he doesn’t get it out before Namjoon tilts his head just slightly and sucks Yoongi’s thumb into his mouth.

“Oh shit,” Yoongi’s breaths are coming out harder. “Shit — you’re so fucking hot.” he moves his thumb a bit, pumping it into Namjoon’s mouth a couple of times, before he stills. “Wait, wasn’t that like, a line from one of the tracks you featured on??”

Namjoon smiles open mouthed, teeth biting softly down on the thumb in his mouth as he nods his head slowly, grin conspiratorial.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you get away with shit like that and people still think you’re straight. Unbelievable. You absolute menace.”

Namjoon shrugs and goes back to sucking on the thumb, harder this time, encouraged, staring straight up at Yoongi with his eyes half-lidded.

“Ohhhhhhhh fuck,” Yoongi breathes. He starts grinding his butt in little circles, Namjoon’s cock already hard underneath him, and the mood is getting heated fast.

“Fuck Namjoon, can we please take our clothes off,” he grumbles, pleading, taking his thumb out of Namjoon’s mouth and running it over his cheek.

“Yeah, I mean — yes. I’d love to. Do whatever. You want to do.” Namjoon runs his hands up Yoongi’s thighs and back over his ass, and squeezes.

Yoongi stills, breath coming hard. “My ass comes with a price of admission though.” 

Namjoon lets out a surprised chuckle. “Oh yeah? What’s that? I feature on your next diss track just to tell everyone how much of a loser I am and that everything you said about me was absolutely correct?”

Yoongi scrunches his nose in a smile and shakes his head. “Nah. But if we’re going to do this, and you’re still going to be friends with Zico, I want you to — you don’t have to come out to him, or anyone right now, if you don’t want to, but I want you to tell him that you’re not okay with him talking about me — or anyone — like that.”

Namjoon shakes his head and then nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, shit — yeah. Fuck, I’ll release an entire track where I talk explicitly about eating your ass if that’s what it takes for you to wanna hang out with me with your clothes off.”

“Ew,” Yoongi giggles, then schools his face, “but I’m serious though. You have to promise me you’ll talk to him. Having friends who act like that is not good for you, and honestly, I know he’s hot shit right now or whatever, but he needs you more than you need him, even if you both don’t know it yet. You’ll see. He’ll come around if he knows what’s good for him.”

Namjoon blushes, turned on by Yoongi being assertive, turned on by Yoongi thinking he’s talented enough for Zico to need him, turned on by Yoongi believing in him, incredibly turned on by Yoongi starting to grind little circles on his dick again.

He nods, serious. “I promise. I’ll talk to him. I kind of already started… working on it. Sort of.”

Yoongi pets his cheek. “Good boy. Now—”

He doesn’t beat around the bush; tugging the hem of his hoodie and T-shirt up and over his head all in one go before he scrambles up to get his jeans, socks and underwear.

Namjoon watches stunned for a second before he scrambles to tug his own clothes off, the bed becoming an awkward tangle of limbs for a bit.

He hesitates with only his boxers left to take off and stares at Yoongi, now sitting back on his heels, stark naked in front of him on the bed.

Yoongi stares back at him, eyes hungry. “Fuck.” He lets his eyes run down Namjoon’s torso. “Fuck. your chest is like—” he reaches out and brushes his fingers down the hard line of Namjoon’s chest before brushing a thumb over his nipple.

“Here, lay back for me,” he pushes Namjoon back lightly onto a pillow.

Namjoon complies, blushing. “Uhm —  what do you — I uh — how — I have condoms in the top drawer of the night stand if you—”

Yoongi groans and tugs Namjoon’s boxers down, deliberate and swift. He looks fondly at Namjoon’s swollen cock. “Ugh. I missed him.”

Namjoon giggles, nervous, so turned on.

Yoongi wraps his fingers around the length of Namjoon’s dick, bites his lip and gives it a soft stroke. “Fuck. let me — I’m gonna sit on you. Gonna live my dream and fucking sit on it.” He looks up into Namjoon’s eyes “can I?”

“Yeah. Yep.” Namjoon can’t help but giggle some more. “God you’re so fucking weird.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Says mister I-busted-a-fat-nut-thinking-about-you-punching-me-in-the-face…” he shakes his head as he reaches for the drawer, fishes out a condom and a bottle of lube.

Namjoon stays really still and just watches as Yoongi carefully opens the wrapper, checks which way it’s supposed to roll and then carefully rolls it down over Namjoon’s erection. Even just that little bit of touch gives Namjoon an impossibly strong urge to thrust into it, feel Yoongi more, get him closer.

“Shouldn’t we, uh — do you want me to — with my fingers?” Namjoon fumbles.

Yoongi leans down and kisses him soft and tender. “Yeah.” They lose themselves in kissing for a bit, Yoongi running his hands up Namjoon’s chest and up his neck and into his hair before he murmurs, “I mean, I’m kind of a master at conjuring up some time and privacy to sit on my dildo so it’s not like I need 3 hours of prep but — just finger me a little and I’ll be good to go, yeah?”

Namjoon feels a little bit like he’s gonna choke from learning that new bit of information. “You’re—” he coughs, “full of surprises.”

Yoongi smiles and squirts a generous amount of lube on Namjoon’s fingers then leans forward, ass up, and braces his arms around Namjoon’s head before mumbles into the crook of his neck; “get to it.”

Namjoon kisses his shoulder and carefully runs his lube-free left hand down the curve of his ass, squeezing, moaning a little as Yoongi mouths at his neck, dipping his fingers in between his cheeks, finding the pucker around Yoongi’s hole and carefully rubbing around it.

“I said,” Yoongi mumbles a bit more forcefully, “put those arms to work. Get on with it.”

Namjoon can’t help but smile, but he’s also honestly too far gone to do anything but go along with whatever Yoongi tells him, so he brings up his right hand and starts rubbing the lube around Yoonig’s hole, then carefully pressing in the tip of his middle finger, slowly pumping it in knuckle for knuckle, then adding another while Yoongi arches and moans.

“Ahh — mmh —  that’s a good boy…”

Yoongi’s voice is gravely in Namjoon’s ear, and Namjoon picks up the pace, encouraged, finally adding a third finger. After he’s just started putting some muscle into it, Yoongi raises himself up, still grinding back on his fingers a bit while declaring;

“Okay, that’s enough.”

He removes Namjoon’s hand and leans down to kiss him quickly on the nose before he reaches for the lube again and slathers a good amount on Namjoon’s very hard dick.

Then he brackets his knees around Namjoon’s hips and reaches down with his right hand to guide Namjoon’s cock into his ass as he sinks down carefully while looking right into Namjoon’s face, determined.

They both let out involuntary desperate little moans as the tip breaches Yoongi's hole, and they still for a bit.

Yoongi tries to slow his breath while Namjoon slides his palms up his thighs and rubs up and down with his thumbs. After little bit Yoongi starts rocking back, taking in more of Namjoon inch by inch.

“Fuck — shit,” Namjoon gasps.

“You okay?” Yoongi pants out.

“Yeah it’s just — so fuckin tight.”

“Yeah no shit Sherlock.” He makes pretty quick work of getting situated on Namjoon’s cock, and when he finally sinks down all the way they both groan.

“Fuck. It’s everything I dreamed of and more,” Yoongi grunts out.

“I’m—” Namjoon pants, “glad?”

Yoongi smiles and pinches his nipple before he starts rocking up and down, fucking himself on Namjoon’s cock.

Namjoon just watches him stunned, hands resting on Yoongi’s hips while he tries to focus on not busting a nut in under 3 seconds.

Yoongi starts riding him in earnest, not really the type to delay his own pleasure; he’s clearly just aiming to get the best angle to make himself feel good.

He strokes up Namjoon’s chest and puts his fingers in his mouth, pressing the pads of his fingers down on Namjoon’s tongue, then running them around the insides of Namjoon’s kiss-swollen lips while he rides him.

“Oh my god,” he pants out, “such a big boy. Feels so fucking good inside me.”

Namjoon just furrows his brows up at him, concentrating on breathing and not losing it, which is really hard when he’s got his hands clutching Yoongi’s hips and Yoongi seems to be enjoying the ride of his life. “You’re really… really… pretty. Feel really good,” Namjoon manages to get out.

“Oh yeah?” Yoongi snaps back, “does the big bad thug enjoy lying flat on his back, balls deep in a pretty boy’s ass? That’s kinda gay huh?”

Yoongi seems to grow more confident in his dick-bouncing while talking shit, and Namjoon doesn’t really have an answer, just lays there and tries to take it while marveling at all these new sides of quiet, laid-back Min Yoongi that he’s getting to witness.

Yoongi pouts down at him and starts fucking two fingers in and out of Namjoon's mouth. ”You like that Namjoon-ah? You want hyung to slap you around and use you, do whatever he wants with you? Is that what you think about when you touch yourself? Little hypocrite. Who’s — *huf* — gay — *huf* — now — *huf* — huh?” He delivers that last part while sitting down forcefully with each syllable.

Namjoon exhales shakily, mildly scandalized. “Do you ever — *huf* — shut up?”

Yoongi chuckles, winds his hand back and, *smack*, brings it down hard on Namjoon’s cheek. Namjoon feels a little bit like he’s having an out of body experience, like he’s gonna giga-nut into the stratosphere.

He’s really close now, looking up at Yoongi who seems to encompass a mysteriously large amount of energy to keep bouncing on him like he's been doing, like a mean, ethereal little sex demon.

Namjoon can feel his orgasm sneaking up on him, he’s scrunching his brows together and his lips are forming a little O as he moans erratic under Yoongi.

“Fuck that’s beautiful. Your O-face,” Yoongi says, as he dips a finger inside Namjoon’s mouth quickly, then removes it, collects some saliva in his own mouth (which is bountiful, as he’s all but drooling from riding Namjoon with such fervor), and then purses his lips to spit a fat little ball of drool straight down into the round O of Namjoon’s open mouth.

Namjoon feels like he’s seeing it happen in slow motion before he feels the spit land hot on his tongue. It’s a little gross, which kind of just makes it hotter for him.

“Swallow,” Yoongi orders him, stroking his cheek with a thumb. Namjoon complies.

“Good boy.”

That’s the final straw that hurls Namjoon over the edge, and he comes with a shout into the condom, buried deep in Yoongi’s ass, and Yoongi takes that as cue to jerk himself off hard and fast while Namjoon pumps into him weakly, riding out his own orgasm.

Yoongi’s whole body shivers and jerks before he comes all over Namjoon’s stomach and chest, a little bit squirting all the way on to the wall behind Namjoon’s head.

He collapses straight into the puddle of cum on Namjoon’s front when he’s finished, catching his breath for a moment before wiggling off with a grumble of “oof, get out of me.”

Suddenly, through the post-orgasm haze, a nagging thought pokes at Namjoon; he doesn’t like you, this is all just part of his elaborate revenge, he’s going to go back to being mean to you now.

But it dies quick when Yoongi presses up to him, squeezes around his side and gives him a sweet kiss on his lips and then his cheek.

“You’re all gross and covered in cum,“ he remarks, dragging his fingertips through the gunk on Namjoon’s chest.

Namjoon chuckles. “You made me gross! You’re the one who came all over me!”

Yoongi smiles and rubs his nose into Namjoon’s cheek. “Can’t believe you let me cum all over you. Baddest boy in the rap game. Fuckin’ owned. Watch me drop that into my next diss track.”

Namjoon feels his cheeks heat up. He knows Yoongi’s just being silly, doesn’t mean it literally, but—

“Would you ever let me fuck you?” Yoongi asks with a sly smile, interrupting his train of thought.

“Fuck — yeah I would. I mean, I’m happy either way. And I don’t have a ton of experience. But yeah I’d let you — do that.”

“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind. For future reference.”

Namjoon steels himself. “So uhm. Does that mean that you —  want to uhm — would like to do this, again?”

“Fuck yeah. I mean only if you want to.” Yoongi looks at him with an edge of worry in his gaze. “Did I go too far? Please tell me if I did.”

“No — fuck no. That felt amazing.”

“But you’ll tell me if I ever do something that you don’t like right? I’m very flexible. I was just trying to take the hint of, you know, you talking non stop about beating your meat while thinking about me punching you in the face. Real smooth Joon.”

Namjoon giggles and shoves at him lightly. “Shut up. Yeah I promise, I’d say something if you did anything I don’t like.” He pauses while he contemplates it a little, this new world of possibilities that seems to be opening up for him.  “…you’ll do that too right?”

“Oh you know I don’t shut up.”

“I mean, you kind of do though? I’m pretty sure most people know you as like, a sort of quiet and reserved, calm dude? When you’re not on stage at least?”

“Sure, but when the door is locked and your dick is out, there’s only one way you can make me shut up.” Yoongi wiggles his eyebrows at him, expression serious.

“If you’re trying to suggest that the only way to shut you up would be for me to put my dick in your mouth, I like, tried that once, and you still managed to talk through the entire blowjob somehow, so.”

Yoongi’s entire little body shakes with quiet giggles, his eyes squinting into little half-moons. As he calms down, he looks at Namjoon, a bit serious again.

“So you wanna try this though? I mean — you wanna hang out and stuff? You want this?” he gestures vaguely to himself.

Namjoon nods, unable to keep his smile from widening. “I want you.”

Yoongi gives him a little nose kiss.

“But like—” Namjoon continues, “do you have any time though? Ever?”

Yoongi chuckles, a bit defeated “I mean. There are periods sometimes that are more quiet than others. But also like — no not really? And I’m sorry that I can’t offer like, a lot of regular-date-time. And I understand if that makes you want to reconsider. I mean, I’d be really bummed, but. I’d understand.”

Namjoon shakes his head, “no it’s okay I — I still wanna try it.”

Yoongi smiles. “Also, now that we’ve boned, it’s acceptable for me to call you up to hang out during booty-call hours right? Not just for booty-calls of course, but — like, before, when I really wanted to hang out — when you kept offering, but I was always working from early until super late every damn night — sometimes I was like 'man, I wish I could just call him at 1AM when I get off work and go lay motionless on top of him while he pets my hair and tells me about his day.' But that would’ve been weird, you know. But now you’ve had your dick inside me, so maybe that’ll be — acceptable?”

Namjoon smiles, fond. “I’ll... allow it.”

They lie there for a bit, warm, fuzzy, comfortable, until Namjoon comes to his senses a bit and — “fuck, what time is it even? I hope no one uh — is wondering where we went.”

Yoongi gives him a little half-smile-half-frown, and then they both go quiet, listening for sounds coming from outside the room.

“I — I mean,” Yoongi says, “the music’s still pretty loud, but I can’t hear any voices anymore?”

“Yeah, Hoseok would’ve definitely texted me if he left though…” Namjoon feels anxiety start to bubble up in his chest.

“Maybe just… check?” Yoongi rubs his shoulder, soothing.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll—” Namjoon jumps off the bed, not entirely graceful, and grabs a T-shirt from the floor to wipe most of the cum off of himself before he hastily pulls on the clothes he was wearing earlier 

He stops, looks back at Yoongi who’s still naked, lounging on the bed, regarding him with amusement in his eyes. “I — I’m gonna just. Check.”

He unlocks and opens his bedroom door carefully, quietly, then sneaks out into the hallway. There’s no one there. The music’s still thrumming out from the living room, a low light radiating from there as well. Namjoon sneaks towards the living room and — it doesn’t sound like there’s anyone in there but—

He stops short in the doorway, not quite ready for the view that greets him.

There’s no one left in the living room except for three bodies pressed tight together on the couch.

Hoseok’s there, with his cherubic little blonde dance friend that Namjoon talked to earlier sat fully on his lap, while Hoseok’s got his right hand unapologetically stuffed down the front of the blonde friend’s overalls, left hand stuffed down the back. Pressed up next to them is an alarmingly handsome, broad-shouldered, dark-haired dude who’s in the process of peeling one overall strap off of the little blonde dude’s shoulder while Hoseok works his hands inside the overalls, and overalls-boy leans his head back on Hoseok’s shoulder and moans like some sort of very professional porn star.

Namjoon really doesn’t wanna disturb whatever’s going on there, but he also really needs to talk to Hoseok just a little bit, So. He clears his throat.

Hoseok startles at the sound and freezes, but doesn’t make any moves to remove his hands from inside overalls-boy’s overalls. The dark-haired menace also takes a break from his undressing ritual, but doesn't seem embarrassed in the slightest, only mildly annoyed to have been interrupted.

Overalls-boy (Jimin? Was his name Jimin? He thinks it was Jimin,) straight-up continues to grind his ass in a little circle on Hoseok’s lap while looking straight into Namjoon’s soul like he's thinking what are you gonna do about it?

“Uhm—” Namjoon starts, trying to pretend that Jimin isn’t throwing his ass in a literal circle directly on top of his best friend’s dick, right in front of his very eyes, while giving him a death glare.

“Namjoon!” Hoseok chimes up, trying to sound casual, but apparently not invested enough to remove either hand from inside the cursed overalls.

“Uhm.. sorry!” Namjoon continues, “I just wanted to uh— ask Hoseok—”

Suddenly he feels warm hands snake around his waist from behind him, as Yoongi approaches and presses his face into namjoon’s back, eyes peeking out over Namjoon’s shoulder as he takes in the scene on the couch.

“Oh hey Yoongi!” Namjoon is even more shaken up now, voice getting thin—

He can tell that Hoseok is trying to bite back a smile, and yup, his hands are still very much down uh… his friend’s pants.

“Don’t worry Namjoon,” Hoseok says with a lazy smile, “everyone else left. This is a gays-only event now. I took care of everything.”

“Uh… how…?”

“Well, for anyone who asked, I told them that Yoongi needed to leave suddenly, and that I had personally escorted him out. I also told them that in a totally unrelated incident you had started vomiting uncontrollably, so I’d sent you to your room with a bucket, and that if they knew what was good for them they wouldn’t try to go in there.”

Namjoon feels Yoongi chuckle into his shoulder.

“Why did you have to tell everyone I was throwing up?!” Namjoon whines at Hoseok.

“Are you glad or not that I secured you the time and peace to do whatever you guys have been doing in there all night??”

Namjoon nods, embarrassed. “Yeah. Thanks Hoseok.”

Hoseok beams at him. “You’re welcome!”

The dark-haired dorito man looks at Namjoon. He seems mildly over the whole conversation, as he gets back to undressing the little blonde cherub who’s probably named Jimin.

“So… you guys wanna join us or—” dorito-man says as he looks at them, challenging.

Jimin is only encouraged by this bold suggestion, and starts grinding down even harder on Hoseok’s lap.

Namjoon’s a little too quick to respond as Yoongi laughs into his shoulder — “Nope! No thanks! We’re good! Umh.”

“Anything more I can help you with buddy?” Hoseok asks, somehow still looking concerned while obviously starting to have trouble controlling his breath, as Jimin continues to work on him.

Namjoon looks at him and shakes his head quickly. “Just uh — thanks! Good night, or, uh, just — have fun!!”

It comes out a little too loud over the low sexy background music, and Namjoon turns on his heel quickly to hurry away from the living room, embarrassed. Yoongi follows right on his heels, giggling into the neck of his hoodie.

“Sorry, uhm, Hoseok is—” Namjoon starts, before his brain goes; who can really truly define Hoseok tho? He snaps out of it when he sees Yoongi look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue, “uh, he’s — really great. But also pretty wild. Sorry you had to witness that.”

Yoongi just laughs some more. “No worries, I’m fine. You know I appreciate a man who knows what he wants and is unapologetic about it.”

Namjoon knows it isn’t meant as a jab at him, but it still makes his cheeks heat up. “Yeah I’ll… work on that.”

Yoongi reaches up and ruffles his hair. “No rush.”

They’re standing in the dim light of the hallway, the low bass of the ungodly music that Hoseok and his “friends” are listening to vibrating through the walls. Yoongi looks up at him, eyes sparkling, expression open and sweet. Namjoon reaches up to cup his face, running his thumb over it softly.

“Do you wanna uhm, sleep over? You’re totally welcome to, I don’t have to do anything in the morning.”

Yoongi sighs and smiles. “I’d love to. But I actually have to be at the dorm tomorrow kinda early-ish, so I should go back soon.”

“Oh duh yeah. Dorm life. I hope no one’s like, worried about your whereabouts.”

“Nah. it’s pretty chill, our company is small and pretty good in terms of like — we get some freedom to fuck off and do what we want, make our own decisions. Especially when our schedule isn’t insane, like now, this month. So I’d love to uhm, sleep over some other time maybe?”

Namjoon perks up at that. “Fuck yeah! I mean, yeah, cool, let’s have a slumber party.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Can it be a sexy slumber party?”

“O— of course!” Namjoon stutters.

“You’re cute.” Yoongi gets on his tiptoes, reaches up and gives Namjoon a sweet, soft kiss that he can’t help but smile into. “We’ll be in touch, yeah?” he asks when he breaks from the kiss.

“Yeah. Yes.” Namjoon pauses and smiles at him. “Wow. I can’t believe it’s been like, less than a month since I sincerely thought you were going to murder me inside the gear closet because I called you gay.”

Yoongi giggles. “Yeah, that was… pretty effective I guess. I think pickup artists call it ‘negging’.”

Namjoon scoffs “I would never do something like that! …Not on purpose at least.”

Yoongi just shakes his head with a smile. “Walk me out?”

They go to pick up Yoongi’s jacket from Namjoon’s room, and then Namjoon walks him out, saying bye with a little flying kiss at the door, too shy to go in for one last proper kiss, even though he would like nothing more. But it’s bittersweet because he’s going to see Yoongi again; Yoongi wants to see him again — his dream boy that he thought he’d only be able to look at in videos from now on actually wants to kiss him and touch him and do weird sex thing with him in real life. Namjoon feels like he won the lottery. He’s going to do things right this time, be careful, be brave.

He closes the door and heads back to his room, but stops at the kitchen when he sees Hoseok in there pouring a big glass of water.

“Uh, hey man, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb your uh — thing. Earlier.”

Hoseok flashes him a cocky smile. “No need to be sorry, nothing was disturbed. It’s our fault for getting carried away in the living room anyway — we’ve moved into my room now. I’m just, you know — it’s very important to stay hydrated during threesomes.”

Namjoon looks at him a little confused. “Isn’t it important to stay hydrated during all sex?”

Hoseok wiggles his brows. “Yeah but it’s especially important with the type of stuff I’ve got planned for those two, if you know what I mean—”

“—I really don’t. Want to know that. But yes, please be safe.”

“Oh you know I’m fucking safe.”

Namjoon has no idea what that’s even supposed to mean, and he’s about to just turn to go to his room when he hesitates and — “hey, uhm, Hoseok, can I ask you one thing?”

“Sure!”

“So, if I were to, uhm, say — hypothetically — do a track for my next release, like a title track, that was like pretty explicit? -ly gay? In particular? Would you be interested in doing something for my video? Like, choreographing something, or being in it or whatever? I’d give you total creative control to be honest, if you were interested.”

Hoseok’s grin goes from wide to positively beaming.

“Namjoon, my dude. That would be. An absolute. Delight.”