Beta Tau Sigma

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/4730348.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster/Kim Seokjin | Jin, Min Yoongi | Suga/Park
Jimin
Character: Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Kim Seokjin | Jin, Min Yoongi | Suga,
Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Taehyung | V, Jeon
Jungkook, AOA shows up briefly, Jin Hyosang | Kidoh
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity,
Hijinks & Shenanigans, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Halloween,
Halloween Costumes, Valentine's Day, Woo Jiho shows up briefly, as
does P.O., Clubbing, Gay Crises, Choi Minho has a cameo, Road Trips
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2015-09-05 Completed: 2016-02-17 Chapters: 18/18 Words:
123185

Beta Tau Sigma

by bazooka

Summary

A collection of events occurring within (and without) the walls of the Beta Tau Sigma
fraternity house.
At Beta Tau Sigma, there are only a few rules:
1) have a declared major in the College of Music;
2) keep your GPA above a 3.4;
3) don't let Taehyung into the liquor cabinet;
4) don't fuck up with Kim Seokjin.

The rest is all fine print.

(Rating changed to M for sexual content in ch17.)

Notes

This is 85% shenanigans, 12% NamJin slowburn, 2% bumbling college freshman Jeon
Jeongguk, and 1% awkward background YoonMin.

Disclaimers:
1. There are probably very few frats in South Korea if there are any at all, and even if there
were I've never belonged to one in any country anywhere so this is guaranteed to be almost
entirely inaccurate.
2. I'm in the US so most of the university stuff is going to be pretty damn American. Just
pretend the AU is in some futuristic wasteland where earth is ruled by one planetary
government with a globally standardized education system...? Sure, yeah. Why not.
3. I messed with their ages a little in this. Mostly they're just a little aged up, but... well,
you'll see. It'll be an adventure. Just remember that I really do know their ages from oldest
to youngest. It'll be important later.
4. I write like I talk so there's a whole shitload of swears up in here.
5. If I can't write a joke then I'm probably sick. And even then it'll usually just be a bad
joke.
6. You might know by now that I'm longfic trash. This is my Big BTS Fic. BUCKLE UP.

There was gonna be a tortoise, but I got lazy.

(The nicknames are not Korean accurate, but to be fair neither is most of this fic. I took
many, many liberties.)
 The One Where Jeon Jeongguk Gets What He Wants

NAMJOON
OCTOBER 6

When Kim Namjoon woke up the night sky was so dark as to be practically stygian. The
streetlights were on. A lamp on the other side of the living room was on, dim and flickering, the
only thing keeping the room from being plunged into total darkness. He lay on the couch, eyes still
mostly closed, and thought very very very slowly about what it could possibly have been that woke
him up.

"Okay," came a voice from outside. It was early October but a few of the front windows were
cracked open just a little bit even though the air outside was starting to dip below 12C (to let the air
move, Jin had said, and Namjoon knew better than to argue with him about this kind of thing) so
the noise of the street carried into the house. It was on a back road tucked away from the main row
so street noise was almost nil, but now...

"Okay," said the voice again. "Listen. This is important."

"Extremely important," came a second voice, pitched slightly higher than the first but no less
drunk.

"His name," said the first voice, in a stage whisper, "is Kim Namjoon."

Namjoon opened his eyes and glared sleepily at the ceiling. What the fuck? What the actual fuck.
He was too goddamn tired for this. Where the fuck was Jin? Jin was so much better at this shit. He
was upstairs, right? Studying? Maybe he was in the kitchen, or - fuck. Fuck. He'd gone to visit his
parents for the weekend. Shit. Shit.

"His name is Kim Namjoon," repeated the first voice, "and he's a huge grump when he's tired but
he's also kind of a genius so we put up with him. You just have to look past the rough exterior."

"And the morning breath," came the second voice.

"And the bedhead. He looks like a cockatiel in the morning. Or an ice cream cone maybe."

"And how he never picks up his shoes."

"And how he always finishes the last banana milk without telling anybody."

"And man, remember that one time he got drunk and tried to make a cake?"

"It took four of us three whole hours to scrape it all off the ceiling before the landlord came by for
a short notice inspection."

"Fuck, man. I think I still have blisters from that plaster knife."

"Oh yeah. Huh. You totally do."

"But the main thing," said the second voice, struggling to get back on track, "the main thing you
have to remember is not to fuck up with Jin."
"Kim Seokjin," supplied the first voice helpfully. "Not gin, the alcohol. But also don't fuck up with
gin, because that shit is nasty coming back up the other way."

"It's really hard to fuck up with Jin—"

"Again, this is Kim Seokjin we're talking about here, not gin the alcohol."

"—because he's basically everyone's mom and he'll love you unconditionally until you die—"

"He's great. He's better than my actual mom. And he can cook! God, why would you even want to
go home?"

"—but if you do manage to fuck up with him... shit, man."

"Serious shit."

"Remember Youngjae?"

The first voice hissed uncomfortably and there was a sudden rhythmic swishing noise, as though
someone was crossing themselves while wearing a raincoat. "May he rest in peace."

A third voice, low and nervous and unfamiliar, ringing out of the darkness. "Youngjae? What
happened to Youngjae?"

Kim Namjoon opened the front door and slapped the light switch, turning on the porch light. "I
happened to him," he said, pulling out his best glower and using it to full effect. "Kim Taehyung.
Park Jimin. What the fuck are you doing."

Jimin blanched and startled as though caught committing a crime, stumbling backward off of the
porch and onto the first step down to the concrete walk with the force of his recoil. Taehyung,
though... Taehyung stepped forward, beatific smile on his face, one hand sweeping upward with
palm pointed toward heaven in a gesture of placation and welcome. (He was wearing one of those
horrendous 80s windbreakers, the kind that had at least three horribly mismatched colors combined
in a nauseating splash of neon and vomit. Suddenly the raincoat noise made sense.)

"Hyung," Taehyung said, voice a very-slightly-drunken rasp away from total inebriation, "I have
some really great fuckin' news."

"You're moving out?" Namjoon said flatly. He leaned against the door jamb and tried not to smell
the soju on Taehyung's breath but failed miserably. "Jesus Christ, Taehyung. You smell terrible."

"Tell me about it," Jimin piped up from the back, but subsided nervously when Namjoon shot a
poisonous look in his direction.

"I am not, in fact, moving out," Taehyung slurred, dipping and swerving a little to keep his balance,
"because I love all of you almost as much as you love me. No!" he continued, cutting Namjoon off
right as he was opening his mouth to disagree. "The news is way better than that. Jeongguk! My
child. My sweet summer flower. Step into the light and be known by your new father."

"You're so weird," Jimin hissed at him.

The owner of the third voice (low and nervous and unfamiliar) stepped forward into the light, face
pale in the gold-green glow of the ancient light bulb. He was young (practically a baby - shit,
freshmen were getting younger and younger every year, weren't there rules for this kind of thing?
was this place supposed to be a kindergarten?) but still managed to be almost as tall as Jimin even
a step below him. "Um," he said eloquently, "hi. Nice to meet you. I'm—"

"Jeon Jeongguk," Jimin interrupted, slapping Jeongguk's chest companionably with one hand.
"He's in our Composition 210 class."

"A new pledge," Taehyung whispered excitedly, his voice pitched high, one fist clutched
delightedly to his mouth.

Namjoon leaned forward, shoving Taehyung out of the way with one hand, and glared down at
Jeongguk. "The hell is a freshman doing in Composition 210?"

"I was in Composition 101," Jeongguk stuttered, "but Professor Lee moved me up into 210 after
the first test arrangement. He said that I already—"

"Professor Lee?" No way. No way in hell. "Professor Lee Seon-woong? Professor Lee Seon-
woong moved you up to 210?"

Jeongguk flinched. "Yes?"

"He's a prodigy," Taehyung said, bending down the stairs precariously to grab Jeongguk by the
elbow and drag him up the stairs. "He's a golden maknae. And he's so cute! Look at these little
gauged ears, he's like a real boy." He flicked Jeongguk's ear affectionately. "Can we keep him? I
could keep him under my bed and feed him crackers."

"We don't take freshman pledges until Winter term," Namjoon said. He glared at Taehyung. "You
know we don't take freshman pledges until Winter term."

"But Professor Lee," Jimin said, his lilting voice pitched even higher into a whine. (God, was there
anyone who could whine quite like Park Jimin? If there was Namjoon didn't want to know about
it.) "Professor Lee moved him up to 210."

"It's really okay," Jeon Jeongguk started to say, eyebrows coming together uncertainly, "if you don't
have any room, I mean - I was actually already invited by the Tau—"

The reaction was sudden and implosive, both Taehyung and Jimin folding in over Jeon Jeongguk
like a recording of a mushroom cloud played in reverse. He staggered under them, gasping for
breath behind both of Taehyung's hands and one of Jimin's. "Don't," Taehyung hissed at him.

"He didn't mean it," Jimin stammered, staring wide-eyed up at Namjoon and waving his free hand
in a gesture of appeasement and surrender. "He just—"

Namjoon swatted Jimin's hand out of the air and stepped down off the door frame and onto the
wooden slats of the porch, hanging off the door jamb with one arm. "What were your grades like in
high school, kid?"

"Honors," Jeongguk managed to gasp out, after Taehyung had pulled both hands from his mouth.
"Got a B once."

"What subject?"

"Chemistry."

"Not a lot of chemistry in the College of Music, hyung," Jimin said.

"And he's got an invite," Taehyung added pointedly. "From the Tau Deltas."
"And it's my birthday," Jimin whined.

"Shut up," Taehyung hissed, kicking out at him ineffectually with one sandaled foot. "It's not your
birthday for another week."

Namjoon groaned and ran a hand over his face. He'd had three hours of sleep over the past thirty-
six and one of those hours had been rudely interrupted by Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin and their
new pet freshman. "God. Fuck. Fine. We'll talk about it. Probationary period only." He held the
door open. "Come on in and sober up. Hey - Jeongguk, right?"

Jeongguk looked up at him, pale in the golden light, still looking a little uneasy. "Yeah?"

"Don't listen to anything either of these two say," Namjoon said. "Do you know what you're getting
yourself into?"

"Beta Tau Sigma," Jeongguk replied, and then flashed a smile so bright and aware and conniving
that Namjoon found himself very very briefly taken aback. "Toughest professional frat on campus.
Only geniuses and prodigies admitted."

"Well... yeah." Namjoon stood back against the door frame as Jeon Jeongguk stepped over the
threshold past him. "Beta Tau Sigma. Right."

For a second he found himself wishing like hell that Jin was back from visiting his parents already
even though he'd only left a few hours ago and wasn't due back until Sunday morning at the very,
very earliest. If Jin were here Taehyung and Jimin would have gone to him instead, right? Right.
Right. Or at least Jin could run interference. Right?

"Fuck," he said very, very quietly to himself, and closed the front door.

JIN
FLASHFORWARD: OCTOBER 10

"Am I a grump?"

Jin looked up from where he was squatting in front of the tv cabinet, digging through his
alphabetized DVD shelves. He shook hair out of his eyes and gave Namjoon a careful look.
"Nnno? Why?"

Namjoon was sitting slumped on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, legs spread, hands
loose, palms up, arms splayed a little almost as though he'd intentionally assumed a posture of
submission. His head was hanging back on his shoulders, resting on the back of the couch, and he
was staring at the plaster ceiling of Jin's room with the kind of absent glare that he got sometimes.
It was the Incoming Philosophical Bullshit position, and Jin would recognize it anywhere.

"The kids think I'm a grump," Namjoon said. "I'm not a grump, right? I'm just... tired. Beaten down
by the inexorable passage of time."

"It would help if you slept at night," Jin replied, pulling a DVD case off the shelf and inspecting it
thoughtfully. "You know. Like a normal human being."
"I can't sleep when it's dark. You know I can’t sleep when it’s dark. It reminds me of my own
inevitable mortality."

"Hm."

"Jin, seriously - am I a grump?"

"I guess you can be," Jin hazarded, glancing up at him. This was just going to keep happening if he
didn't figure out how to shut it down. The downward self esteem spiral was an inevitable part of
every academic term. "Everyone's grumpy sometimes. It's not like you go around threatening to kill
people like Yoongi does."

Namjoon groaned and slapped one hand over his face. "'Nicer than Yoongi' isn't really a good goal
here."

"Set the bar low. Work your way up to nice."

"So you're saying I am. I'm a grump. I live in a trashcan and mock children."

"That's Oscar the Grouch. Get your American children's television straight." Jin stood up and made
his way over to the couch, kicking Namjoon's stocking feet off the coffee table before falling back
on the cushions. "You just work too hard. And you have to keep track of the logistics of feeding
and housing and entertaining a house full of... uh..."

"Shitheads," Namjoon finished for him, scooting up. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and
rubbed his hands over his face. "The word you're looking for is shitheads. And I don't do most of
that. You do."

Jin shrugged and grabbed his bowl of ice cream off of the coffee table, sticking the spoon in his
mouth. "Well, sure. But the 'working too hard' thing is still true. Do you want to watch Princess
Mononoke or Kiki's Delivery Service?"

"Neither. What the fuck is your deal with Ghibli lately?"

"You're not doing a very good job at working up to nice," Jin said, popping the spoon out of his
mouth for only enough time to scoop some more ice cream and stick it back in again, lips pursing
around the metal. He held up the two DVD cases. "Miyazaki is a god among men. Pick one. Flip a
coin if you have to."

Namjoon flopped over onto the arm of the couch. "Hyung..."

That got him a hard kick in the hip. "Don't 'hyung' me. Pick a movie or we're watching Ponyo
again."

"Shit," Namjoon sputtered, jolting upright. "Okay, okay. Jesus christ. Way to go nuclear on me Jin,
fuck." He glared at the two cases as though they'd insulted his mother. "Mononoke."

"Good choice," Jin cooed sweetly around his spoon, reaching out to pat Namjoon's knee
affectionately. "Eat your ice cream. You're getting skinny."

NAMJOON
OCTOBER 9
"Okay, first things first," Kim Namjoon said, pulling out the chair at the head of the table and
falling into it. "House rules. First, to join Beta Tau Sigma you have to have declared a major within
the College of Music."

"Unless you're Jin," Jimin supplied helpfully, dumping an armful of single-serve chip bags on the
table. "But he's a special case."

"He's our mom," Taehyung said, scooping a large portion of the pile toward himself with both
arms. "Or anyway he may as well be. Do we have any of the shrimp and maple syrup flavor left?"

Jeongguk sat primly (or maybe just anxiously) at Namjoon's right hand, hands on his knees,
looking from face to face as if trying to figure out where the joke was. "So what's his major?"

"Doctorate in Food Science," Namjoon said distractedly. "Jimin. Taehyung. Stop interjecting when
I'm trying to be presidential and shit."

Taehyung opened a chip bag by punching it on both sides, crumbs exploding over the table and his
shirt and the floor. "Yeah, yeah."

"Second rule," Namjoon counted off on his fingers, turning back toward Jeongguk, "you have to
keep your GPA above a 3.4. This really only applies to courses within your degree program but
related electives fall under this, and going into academic probation for any reason gets you into
probation here."

"And it's not like you get kicked out for getting a 3.3 during one of your terms," Taehyung
commented through a mouth full of chips, spraying crumbs over the table. "It's cumulative. But
you get put on probation in the house and Namjoon stands over you with a stick while you study."

"You would know," Jimin mumbled under his breath, picking through the pile with pinkies
outstretched.

"Third," Namjoon continued, "Taehyung isn't allowed in the liquor cabinet."

"Okay you know what that was one time—"

"It was more than one time and we almost got evicted," Jimin interrupted. He turned toward
Jeongguk. "But we already told you the most important rule."

"Don't fuck up with Jin," Namjoon and Taehyung intoned in unison, in varying degrees of dread
and vaguely shellshocked horror. "Like we said, it's hard as hell to fuck up with him," Taehyung
added quickly, "but just. Don't do it."

"You'll get kicked out of the house," Jimin said.

"We'll pile up your stuff on the lawn," Taehyung added. "And if you really fucked up we might set
it on fire."

Jeongguk's hands tightened on his knees. "Wait - is Kim Seokjin-sshi really that bad?"

"No," Namjoon cut in, leaning forward and resting his weight on his elbows at the edge of the
table, "you don't get it. Jin isn't bad at all. The whole time we're carrying your stuff out onto the
lawn he'll be protesting that it wasn't that bad and you meant well and he's sure you're properly
sorry this time…"
"He's like our mom," Taehyung said again, grabbing another bag of chips.

"It's the rest of us you have to be worried about," Jimin cut in brightly.

"Also, unwritten rule," Namjoon said, thumping the table with his fingertips. "If we decide to
initiate you the house is a hyung-free zone. Use names. No 'Kim Seokjin-sshi' - just call him Jin.
We're all in this frat because we're equals."

"Anyone younger than me has to call me hyung if they want to live," Yoongi cut in, stomping into
the kitchen with his eyes almost completely closed. He opened the pantry and peered into its
depths like a man searching for the meaning of life at the bottom of a bottle of tequila. "Are we
seriously out of jam again? God damn it, Jimin."

"Except Min Yoongi-hyung," Jimin said. "He's unequal."

Yoongi reached out and whacked Jimin across the back of the head. "You're such a brat. See if I
come fix your stuck drawer after this." He grabbed a bag of chips out of the pile and nodded at
Jeongguk, throwing Namjoon a look. "The fuck is this? We babysitting?"

Jeongguk shot to his feet as if remembering himself, ducking down into a low bow and only just
barely avoiding slamming his forehead into the table. "Jeon Jeongguk," he said breathlessly. "I'm,
uh—"

"He's rushing," Taehyung cackled delightedly.

This brought Yoongi up short. "Jesus shit," he said after a second, cramming a chip in his mouth.
"This fucker's a freshman? The hell do they feed kids these days, steroids? How tall are you?"

"179 centimeters," Jeongguk replied.

Yoongi hissed something rude under his breath. "I hate this damn house. Could we get someone
shorter than me to pledge sometime? I can't fuckin’ reach anything in the goddamn cabinets. I
bought a goddamn step stool for this exact reason and I haven’t been able to find it since this
morning."

Namjoon shrugged. “Don’t look at me. Not my fault you’re short. Where’s Hoseok?”

“You think he took it?”

“No,” Namjoon groaned, falling forward to bury his head in his arms. “Yoongi. Forget about the
god damn step stool for five goddamn minutes. We have someone interested in joining the frat and
since Hoseok fucking lives here I figured maybe he’d want to get a heads up.”

“I think he’s in the basement,” Jimin commented, digging into the pile of chip bags again. “He has
some big project due on Monday.”

Namjoon pushed his chair out and stood up, stomping out of the kitchen until he was in front of the
door to the basement - at which point he opened the door and jumped up and down a couple of
times. “Jeong Hoseok! Your presence is requested by the motherfucking president! Come the fuck
upstairs before I send Taehyung to your room armed with a set of clues as to the location of your
porn stash!” At the kitchen table, Taehyung perked up. Namjoon pointed at him. “No. Sit.”

Somewhere in the depths of the basement there was a crashing noise. An entirely separate noise
that sounded suspiciously like a lamp falling over. Then a door, opening and closing hurriedly. “I
don’t have a porn stash,” floated up a voice from below.
“He’s lying,” Yoongi commented casually to Jeongguk. “Hoseok’s my roommate. You don’t even
want to know.”

Taehyung leaned forward. “Yeah but where does he keep it? Just... asking for a friend.”

Namjoon stomped on the floor a few more times, floorboards rattling. “Get up here, Hoseok.
We’ve got a guest.”

“Who the hell’s gonna visit us?” But there were footsteps on the stairs, increasing in volume in
their ascent. Hoseok stuck his head through the door and peered down the hall into the kitchen. “Is
it just your mom again, Jimin?”

Jeongguk shot upward again, ducking low into yet another bow. “I’m—"

“Ahh, no, I know you,” Hoseok drawled delightedly, shoving Namjoon out of the way and
wandering into the kitchen. “Professor Lee was talking about you. Jeon Jeongguk, right?” He
pulled out the chair next to Taehyung, turned it around, sat down on it backwards with his forearms
crossed over the back and his feet hooked in the legs. “The fuck’re you doin’ here? Tau Deltas
kick you to the curb?”

Yoongi stood up and leaned over the table, reaching out to smack Hoseok on the forehead. “Shut
the fuck up, Hoseok. We don’t talk about the goddamn Tau Deltas in these hallowed halls.”

Namjoon placed one hand on Yoongi’s head and shoved him back down into his seat. “Yoongi. No
hitting. Use your words.” He pointed at Hoseok. “We don’t talk about the Tau Deltas in this
house.”

Jeongguk shot Hoseok a wide-eyed look. “Wait, why don’t—”

Hoseok waved a hand and shrugged indulgently. “Bad experience,” he hissed at him in an
exaggerated stage whisper. “We’ll fill you in later.”

“It’s cause they’re dicks,” Taehyung chimed in happily. “Dicks with money. And no class! And
this one time—"

“They actually extended an invitation to me,” Jeongguk interrupted, leaning back in his chair with
a blank expression on his face. He laid his hands on the table in front of him and for a second
Namjoon was reminded for all the world of that one horrible, horrible time he'd tried playing poker
against a professional. “But I heard from Professor Lee that this is the frat to go to if you’re more
interested in music than partying.”

Silence fell over the table and one by one each of the members of the frat turned to look at
Namjoon. He shifted awkwardly in his chair. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, technically we’re a
professional frat.”

“That’s always been a funny sort of distinction to me,” Jimin interjected. “It’s not like we act
particularly profess— ow, fuck,” he hissed, flinching and ducking as someone kicked him under
the table.

“What that means is that we’re all in the same college,” Yoongi said, glaring at Jimin. “The
emphasis on grades, too.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder in Namjoon’s direction.
“Namjoon-hyung over here—"

“Don’t call me hyung,” Namjoon growled.

“—is a PhD candidate in Music Composition,” he continued, ignoring Namjoon entirely.
“Hoseok’s working with one of the foremost music therapists in the nation to develop a new
treatment regimen for post-traumatic stress disorder right now.” Hoseok shrugged and slid down in
his chair a little. “Jimin and Taehyung are both double-majoring and both are ranked first in their
graduating class.”

Jeongguk blinked at him. “And you?”

Yoongi made a face. “Ehhh…”

“He’s a super senior,” Jimin piped up.

“Switched his major like fifteen times,” Hoseok added.

“Remember when he was double-majoring in business?” Namjoon shook his head. “That lasted
about two terms.”

“I liked the term where he was doing Theater,” Taehyung said.

“He almost killed you,” Namjoon said, glaring at Taehyung.

“So? Who says that isn’t fun?”

Jeongguk looked between them. “But the grade requirement—"

“He’s got a 4.0,” Hoseok said.

“I’m well-rounded,” Yoongi hissed. “Just see if I’m fixin' shit around here for y’all after this
flagrant display of disregard for my esteemed person.”

Namjoon leaned forward and gave Jeongguk a long look. “You sure you wanna join, kid?”

“Yyyeah,” Jeongguk said slowly, looking down at his hands. “I think so.”

Hoseok turned toward Namjoon, hooking his elbow over the edge of the table. “Shit, hyung—"

“Don’t call me hyung,” Namjoon interjected. "I'm serious."

“—the kid’s a genius. Don’t we have some kinda… I dunno, probationary period we can extend
for special cases?”

“We haven’t had a pledge in two years,” Jimin whined quietly. “And it’s my birthday.”

“Fine,” Namjoon said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine! Probation. If you get a 3.5 or better
your first term you can initiate in January. Okay?” He turned toward the rest of the table. “Okay? Is
everybody fuckin’ happy? And only if Jin says it’s cool.” He nodded at Jeongguk. “He’s visiting
home right now. Come back Sunday afternoon.”

“He’ll say it’s cool,” Yoongi said. “He’s like our mom.”

"Great," Namjoon said. "I'm going back to bed."

 From: Kim Namjoon
Sent: 23:12, Oct 6
guess what Taehyung and Jimin dragged in

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:13, Oct 6
I'll figure it out with my clairvoyant abilities.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:14, Oct 6
Hmmmm...

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:14, Oct 6
Jin…

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:15, Oct 6
Hold on, I think I'm getting something. My psychic powers are kicking in.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:15, Oct 6
god damn it Jin

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:16, Oct 6
It's a new pledge, isn't it.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:17, Oct 6
........ how the fuck

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:18, Oct 6
Wait. Wait. I'm picking up some more. He's... a freshman? Tall. About as tall as me.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:18, Oct 6
I'm sensing gauged ears...

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:19, Oct 6
Name starts with ㅈ...

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:20, Oct 6
fucking hell Jin

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:20, Oct 6
 who texted you

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:20, Oct 6
give me a name

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:21, Oct 6
Jimin. Don’t blame him, he just got excited. I’m just relieved that he didn’t send it in the form of a
half-naked snapchat this time.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:21, Oct 6
Also he says you're already out of jam, but that's because I hid it on the top shelf of the pantry and
brought the step stool with me to my parents' house. You're the only one tall enough to reach it. Try
to ration it out until I get back.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:22, Oct 6
you're a conniving bastard

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:23, Oct 6
Yeah, and would you really have it any other way? :)

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:32, Oct 6
nah.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:34, Oct 6
come home soon. between Yoongi and Taehyung and the two chapters of my dissertation i have to
turn in to my advisor on monday i don't know if i'm going to survive the weekend without you.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 23:36, Oct 6
Stay strong, Kim Namjoon.
 The One Where Kim Namjoon Stands At The Brink
Chapter Notes

I know I just started this fic the other day, but this chapter finished up edits sooner
than I expected and with the prologue for the pt II album getting put up today and
destroying me I needed some light-hearted nonsense and I figured maybe other people
did too.

Someone mentions suicide in this but no one commits it or threatens it, it's just a brief,
incorrect assumption. Just keep it in mind! I want everybody to be okay!! All the boys
end this chapter (hell, the entire fic) completely fine and intact!!! I LOVE YOU

JIN
October 8

"Kim Namjoon!" Jin shouted, leaning out of the window. "What are you doing out here? It - it's
freezing, Namjoon, why on earth—"

Yoongi shoved through the window next to him, reaching out and pounding on the roofing tiles
with both palms in a steady rhythm. "Jump! Jump! Jump!"

Jin elbowed him back into the room behind him. "Stop it Yoongi this isn't a joke—" He leaned
back out again, bringing one knee up onto the windowsill. Was he brave enough to do it? God but
the roof was steep here. "—Namjoon! I'm serious! What on earth are you doing!"

Kim Namjoon was sitting at the edge of the roof, long legs hanging off into thin air, back bowed
over and hands holding onto the gutter. He looked like he could just be sitting on a bench at the
park, thinking about something or waiting for someone or maybe just digesting, but instead he was
sitting at the edge of the roof on the second story of their three story frat house and there was
nothing under him but air and dust and concrete.

"It's beautiful up here," he said suddenly, face turning upward to look up at the thick October
clouds, the wind carrying his voice back into the window. "Anywhere you are, we're all still
looking at the same sky."

Jin's heart leapt into his throat as he braced against the windowsill. He could be brave enough. He
could be brave enough. He could do it. Who cared about the angle of the roof, he could go out
there if he had to. "Joonie,” he said, the stupid nickname coming up out of him like a sob, “listen
—"

Behind him the door to the bedroom slammed open and Hoseok and Taehyung tumbled in over the
threshold in a tangle of confusion and long limbs. Taehyung was holding his phone in his right
hand, pressing it to his ear; Hoseok had a length of garden hose coiled up around his shoulder, the
loose end dragging out far enough that the connection was still banging on the stairs.

"Oh, hyung," Taehyung wheezed, pulling his phone from his face and ending the call before
tossing it blindly onto Namjoon's bed (always a gamble - lord knew what Namjoon kept in there,
badgers maybe?), "you’re here already. Listen, it's not what it looks like—"

"Really?!" Jin's voice came out strangled and panicked. "Because what it looks like is Kim
Namjoon being driven to suicide over, god, I don't even know—"

"Taehyung threw half a kimchi pizza up onto the roof because Jimin dared ‘im he couldn't,"
Hoseok said, pushing between Jin and Taehyung, garden hose dangling from one hand. "Namjoon
went out to kick it off."

"And now he's fuckin’ stuck," Yoongi cackled, rocking back on his heels, hands over his mouth.

Jin put both hands over his face, willing his heart rate to cool. "Oh, god," he said. "Oh my god."

"Yah, Jin-hyung," Taehyung said casually, nudging Jin with one elbow. "You seem stressed out.
How'd the visit with your family go?"

Out on the roof, Namjoon had started singing trot songs about going to war.

Earlier That Morning

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:17,0 Oct 8
Kim Namjoon! Get out of bed! This is your alarm!

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:18, Oct 8
i fucking hate you

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:21, Oct 8
No you don’t. :)

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:24, Oct 8
i’m up, jesus, what do you fucking want

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:25, Oct 8
You asked me to make sure you were up by 9:30 today. How much more of those two dissertation
chapters do you have left to edit before tomorrow?

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:29, Oct 8
oh

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:29, Oct 8
oh fuck
From: Kim Seokjin
Sent: 09:29, Oct 8
… All of it.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:29, Oct 8
no! i did some yesterday, it’s fine

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:31, Oct 8
Namjoon. Don’t lie to me.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:35, Oct 8
…… all of it.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:35, Oct 8
sorry. i’m making coffee right now. it’ll get done.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:37, Oct 8
are you mad

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:47, Oct 8
Jiiiiiin are you mad ㅠㅠ

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:52, Oct 8
I’m not mad. I’m at my parents’ house - I’m not going to be looking at my phone every thirty
seconds. If you’re that worried about it stop texting me and get to work.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:52, Oct 8
Why would I be mad? What am I, your mom?

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:52, Oct 8
Your girlfriend?

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:52, Oct 8
you may as well be

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:54, Oct 8
… Excuse me?

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:55, Oct 8
you’re kind of like my mom, it’s not like it’s a secret
 From: Kim Namjoon
Sent: 09:56, Oct 8
oh fuck I didn’t see your second text hahaha fuuuck

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:56, Oct 8
sorry

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:59, Oct 8
Work on your dissertation and try not to drink so much caffeine you hallucinate again.
And make sure Taehyung doesn’t do anything too stupid before I get back.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:59, Oct 8
Jerk. :)

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:00, Oct 8
:D thanks mom

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:00, Oct 8
or should i say jagiya~~~

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 10:04, Oct 8
Stop messing around or I won’t bring you home any food.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:05, Oct 8
i’m working, i’m working, you don’t have to pull out the big guns. fuck.

NAMJOON

At about five minutes after twelve Kim Namjoon was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands
and his headphones blaring and the word processor cursor blinking in front of his face like some
kind of goddamn playground taunt. The first chapter had gone okay - he’d already gone over it
about a billion times, felt like - but he didn’t even remember writing the second. Had he been
asleep? Drunk? Maybe both, if the absolutely fucking horrendous spelling was anything to go by.
It was due on his advisor’s desk the next morning and he’d already had five cups of coffee; part of
him figured he should probably drink a little more if this damn chapter was ever going to get done
but another (slightly more mature) part of him was pretty fucking sure that if he had yet another
cup of coffee so close on the heels of the others he would have some kind of cardiac event and no
one would find his body until… well, actually, until that evening when Jin came home and beat his
door down when he didn’t come downstairs for dinner.

The song wound down and in the half second of silence between the ending of the first track and
the beginning of the next a muffled thump filtered through his headphones. Somewhere (sounded
like downstairs? outside, maybe?) Taehyung was screaming something incomprehensible and
hopefully joyous, but hell if he could gauge the emotion through these damn noise-canceling
headphones.

He straightened up and pulled one of the headphones off his ears. Taehyung was still screaming
(something about I FUCKING TOLD YOU) and now Jimin’s voice came up through the floor after
it, the higher tones cutting straight through the floorboards and insulation and the thick carpet of
dirty clothes and junk that layered Namjoon’s bedroom floor like layers of detritus in the lower
levels of a rain forest.

Fuck. Fuck. There were so many days when he looked at his life and wondered why in the freshest
hell he’d thought it might be a good idea to become president of a frat and right now, with his
goddamn dissertation bearing down on him like a train and Taehyung downstairs undoubtedly
causing some form of the worst goddamn trouble he’d been in for five minutes at least, it was
beginning to look like one of those days.

He groaned. Pulled the headphones from his ears. Slammed the space bar on his keyboard to pause
the track. Ran a hand through his hair and stomped across the bedroom floor until he got to the
door and pulled it open.

“What the fuck is happening down there,” he yelled, standing at the top of the stairs. “Is anyone
dead?”

A sudden silence, falling heavy over the house like a wool blanket. Then a voice from below,
floating up the staircase uncertain and shrill: “No?”

“God fucking damn it,” Namjoon muttered to himself, starting down the stairs.

Truth be told there was a section of his head that was mostly awash with relief to have a legitimate
excuse not to stare at his dissertation for the third hour straight with very little to show for it. Jin
wouldn’t be mad, sure, but when he got home and found out Namjoon wasn’t done yet (and there
was no way in hell he’d be done before the clock had ticked over to an hour so late that it was
really more like early) he’d probably do that thing where he pursed his lips and arched his
eyebrows and cocked his chin to one side in an expression of such devastating disappointment that
Namjoon sometimes had nightmares about it. (Sweet jesus. It was beyond horrible.)

“Okay,” he said, thumping down the stairs until he hit the first landing. “Why were we
screaming?”

Jimin and Taehyung stood in the living room with very carefully blank expressions on their faces.
Jimin’s cheeks were very faintly pink. Taehyung’s ribcage was contracting and expanding just very
very barely more quickly than usual. There were a few red leaves and a splatter of mud on the
bottom hem of Taehyung’s left trouser leg.

“Nobody was screaming,” Jimin said.

“We were yelling,” Taehyung added delicately, flapping one hand back and forth as if to imply a
certain specificity of intent. “Not screaming. Screaming would be more like—”

“Don’t,” Namjoon said quickly. “Why were you yelling, then?”

The front door swung open and Yoongi stepped over the threshold, hefting his backpack off his
shoulder and setting it down on the floor of the entryway with a sickening thud. He dropped to one
knee and fumbled with the laces of one black boot, glancing up at Namjoon. “Yah. Do I wanna
know why we got four empty pizza boxes scattered across the front lawn?”

“Probably not,” Namjoon said.

Jimin and Taehyung both opened their mouths at the exact same time, pointing desperately at each
other and talking in ever increasing volume and confusion. Mostly what Namjoon caught had to do
with Taehyung being stupid and Jimin being disrespectful and Taehyung being wholly incapable of
understanding when something was a joke and Jimin insulting the depth and breadth of
Taehyung’s quite considerable masculine prowess—

“Hey so I have good news and I have bad news,” Hoseok said, sticking his head in the front door
behind Yoongi. “The good news is that I figured out where the pizza went.”

Namjoon closed his eyes. “What’s the bad news?”

“Um,” Taehyung said.

“It was Taehyung’s fault,” Jimin said.

“Oh man,” Yoongi commented cheerily, standing up and grabbing one of the straps of his
backpack. “I can already tell today’s gonna be fuckin’ great.”

JIN

Kim Seokjin (”Jin” to his friends, “Please Kim Namjoon Please Stop Hitting Me” to his enemies)
fumbled in his pocket for his keys, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, arms heavy with canvas
grocery bags stuffed with food from his mother’s house, Yoongi’s step stool tucked under one
elbow, earbuds in his ears. He had spent all of 40 hours at his parents’ house, and - god - he loved
his parents, he really really did. They were great. Fantastic. Incredibly supportive and loving and
affectionate and absolutely smothering to a point that even Jin started drowning after about twenty-
four hours in their care.

It was almost a relief when Namjoon had stopped replying to his texts, because then he could at
least hold up his phone and smile politely and explain that, gosh, you know, this has been so
incredibly amazing Mom and Dad but my roommate seems to be in dire straits so I should really
leave. Like now. Like right now. But it was really only almost a relief - even asleep Namjoon
tended to reply to texts, even if it was only with swearing and incomprehensible keysmashing.
What on earth was he doing, that he couldn’t respond to any texts?

It was at that point that Kim Seokjin looked up, for no good reason - and saw a pair of long, thin,
black-clad legs hanging over the edge of the roof.

The step stool ended up on the ground. The grocery bags got dumped unceremoniously on the
porch where he struggled with the door. His shoes went flying as he kicked them off and he had
already reached the second landing of the stairs when he realized that the reason he was already so
worn out was because of his stupid duffel bag weighing him down, so he struggled out of the strap
and let it lay where it fell as he took the turn up the stairs to the third story with his arms out like a
merry-go-round, clinging to the banister with one hand and swinging around it with the other
outstretched for momentum before bolting up the last set of stairs.

Namjoon’s bedroom door was standing open (which was weird), the light was on (which was even
weirder still), and Yoongi was standing at the window with both hands on the windowsill (Yoongi,
in Namjoon’s bedroom? the weirdest yet) leaning out and yelling something incomprehensible and
vaguely ecstatic into the early afternoon air.

Jin didn’t remember finding his footing on Namjoon’s floor, didn’t remember one single notable
step between the top of the stairs and the window. He was just at the stairs and then he was at the
window, nudging Yoongi aside, gripping the windowsill for dear life as he stretched out over the
roof. "Kim Namjoon!" Jin shouted, leaning out of the window. "What are you doing out here? It -
it's freezing, Namjoon, why on earth—"

Yoongi shoved through the window next to him, reaching out and pounding on the roofing tiles
with both palms in a steady rhythm. "Jump! Jump! Jump!"

Jin elbowed him back into the room behind him. "Stop it Yoongi this isn't a joke—" He leaned
back out again, bringing one knee up onto the windowsill. Was he brave enough to do it? God but
the roof was steep here. "—Namjoon! I'm serious! What on earth are you doing!"

Kim Namjoon was sitting at the edge of the roof, long legs hanging off into thin air, back bowed
over and hands holding onto the gutter. He looked like he could just be sitting on a bench at the
park, thinking about something or waiting for someone or maybe just digesting something, but
instead he was sitting at the edge of the roof on the second story of their three story frat house and
there was nothing under him but air and dust and concrete.

"It's beautiful up here," he said suddenly, face turning upward to look up at the thick October
clouds, the wind carrying his voice back into the window. "Anywhere you are, we're all still
looking at the same sky."

Jin's heart leapt into his throat as he braced against the windowsill. He could be brave enough. He
could be brave enough. He could do it. Who cared about the angle of the roof, he could go out
there if he had to. "Joonie,” he said, the stupid nickname coming up out of him like a sob, “listen
—"

Behind him the door to the bedroom slammed open and Hoseok and Taehyung tumbled in over the
threshold in a tangle of confusion and long limbs. Taehyung was holding his phone in his right
hand, pressing it to his face (Jin realized dimly that his phone had been buzzing rhythmically in his
pocket for the last twenty seconds); Hoseok had a length of garden hose coiled up around his
shoulder, the loose end dragging out far enough that the connection was still banging on the stairs.

"Oh, hyung," Taehyung wheezed, pulling his phone from his face and ending the call before
tossing it blindly onto Namjoon's bed (always a gamble - lord knew what Namjoon kept in there,
badgers maybe?), "you’re here already. Listen, it's not what it looks like—"

"Really?!" Jin's voice came out strangled and panicked. "Because what it looks like is Namjoon
being driven to suicide over, god, I don't even know—"

"Taehyung threw half a kimchi pizza up onto the roof because Jimin dared ‘im he couldn't,"
Hoseok said, pushing between Jin and Taehyung, garden hose dangling from one hand. "Namjoon
went out to kick it off."

"And now he's fuckin’ stuck," Yoongi cackled, rocking back on his heels, hands over his mouth.

Jin put both hands over his face, willing his heart rate to cool. "Oh, god," he said. "Oh my god."

"Yah, Jin-hyung," Taehyung said casually, nudging Jin with one elbow. "You seem stressed out.
How'd the visit with your family go?"
“So,” Hoseok said, standing in front of the window and unwinding the length of garden hose from
around his shoulder into a loose coil hanging from his fist, “I’m thinkin’ it’ll probably be best for
most of us to stay back here to help haul and then just send one person out to grab Namjoon-
hyung.”

(Namjoon’s voice, floating in through the window: “Don’t call me hyung!”)

“Jimin should go out,” Taehyung said quickly. “He’s the strongest.”

Jimin punched Taehyung hard in the shoulder. “Traitor!”

“No, that’s why he’d be best back here,” Jin said, shaking his head, one hand cupped thoughtfully
over his chin. “He’s got the best upper body strength. We need somebody who won’t add a lot of
weight to the line.”

“That rules out Taehyung then,” Jimin said darkly, Taehyung’s neck clamped tight under one
elbow in a ruthless headlock. “He’s too fucking fat.”

Taehyung scrabbled helplessly at Jimin’s wrist, eyes bulging from their sockets. “I can’t breathe!"

Yoongi leaned back on his heels, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, rolled his eyes. “So what
- you’re gonna send somebody small out to haul ‘im up and the rest of us are going to hang out
back here and pull on the hose? The fuck do you think is gonna volunteer for that shit?” He
glanced up, and a look of sudden fear passed over his face. “What? Why are you all lookin’ at me
like that? What did I say?”

JEONGGUK

It wasn’t until Jeon Jeongguk turned onto the street where the Beta Tau Sigma frat house lay that
he realized that the high keening noise he’d been half-hearing at the very edge of consciousness
was a human voice. Maybe more than one human voice. Maybe even several, at varying levels of
volume and intensity and pitch.

It wasn’t until he was three houses away from the Beta Tau Sigma frat house that he realized
where, precisely, the noise was coming from.

The tableau was like this:

1. Kim Namjoon, standing near the edge of the roof over the second story of the house, low
down to the roof tiles in a sort of constipated squat, screaming something almost
unintelligible about the worst possible person to send out on this goddamn motherfucking
mission, wasn’t there anybody else in the fucking universe who could possibly come out here
and give him a goddamn lift up, if you drop me I’m going to haunt your ass until you fuckin’
die;
2. Min Yoongi, standing just behind Namjoon with both arms looped around his shoulders as
though he were trying to drag him back from a fist fight, feet braced against the roof, face
almost completely beet red with effort and what was unmistakably a bright green garden
hose looped three times and tied off around his waist with the length stretched out taut
behind him up into the open window of the third story above the steeply angled roof,
screaming something similarly unintelligible about how maybe Namjoon shoulda fuckin’
thought of that before coming out on the godforsaken roof, seriously what the actual fuck
 had he been thinking, did he have some kind of goddamn death wish, fucking bullshit this
motherfucking hose was going to cut off the circulation to the lower half of his body and all
you fuckers were going to have to pay the medical bills to reattach his pelvis to his abdomen
when all of this was over;
3. Four empty pizza boxes and half of what could only have been a kimchi pizza, upended
sadly on the grass.

For just a moment Jeon Jeongguk wondered if he was not, in fact, asleep and dreaming. But no - no
- this was real life. He looked down at the sidewalk pavement under his feet. At his red sneakers.
At his gray jeans, scuffed at the hem. At the leaves under the soles of his shoes. The October wind
sighed against his skin. Somewhere in the distance was a roll of thunder, a half-hearted storm
system rolling in from the north. Above him the window on the third floor of the Beta Tau Sigma
frat house slammed shut and there was quiet.

This was his life. These were his choices.

From the descriptions he'd been given two days prior, Jeon Jeongguk wasn't exactly sure what kind
of person he expected Kim Seokjin to be. Short, probably. Thin-boned, narrow-shouldered.
Probably spoke with a soft voice even higher than Jimin's. He expected someone who wasn't
exactly fat, per se, but maybe chubby in a comfortable sort of way. In short, a mom.

What he didn't expect was for Kim Seokjin to be slightly taller than him. Slender. Well-muscled.
Broadest shoulders he'd ever seen on a guy outside of an action movie. A deep voice, melodic and
just very slightly nasal. When they shook hands Kim Seokjin looked him in the eye and smiled and
welcomed him to the house and then immediately apologized because Namjoonie got himself stuck
on the roof and now needed to be tended to a little bit so if you don't mind waiting just a few
minutes he'll be right out.

Jeon Jeongguk stood in the middle of the living room, slightly dazed, hand still warm where Kim
Seokjin had held it, and couldn't help but feel as though he'd just had the everloving shit mothered
out of him by someone who looked for all the world like the first male lead in a romance-action
fusion drama.

"So," Jin said brightly from his place at one end of the living room couch, his cheeks faintly red
with exertion. Kim Namjoon was lying stretched out on the couch next to him, head resting on Jin's
leg, skin pale and very slightly green, a cold damp washcloth folded up and placed over his
forehead and eyes, Jin's hand laid comfortingly on his chest. "Jeon Jeongguk, was it? Tae tells me
you're something of a prodigy."

Jeon Jeongguk glanced back and forth from Jin to Namjoon to Taehyung (sitting on the floor with
crossed legs and an excited look on his face) and then back again. "Ahh," he said back, voice slow.
"Um. I mean. I suppose that might be true. Professor Lee—"

"Professor Lee moved him up from Composition 101 to 210 after the first test arrangement,"
Taehyung interrupted. "That means he's good."

"And you had good grades in high school?" Jin rolled his eyes upward thoughtfully, mouth
working. "I don't see anything wrong with a probationary period. Namjoon has the final say as it is.
Can't say why they had you wait for me."

"It's cause you're our mom," came Hoseok's voice from the stairs. He thumped down the last few
steps and wandered into the living room, flashing a sunshine grin in Jeongguk's direction. "See? I
told ya. Nothing to worry about."

Jin shot him a look. "Where's Yoongi?"

"Sacked out in bed," Hoseok replied, slipping down onto the floor next to Taehyung with one
smooth and boneless movement. He met Jin's eyes with arched eyebrows. "Jimin's takin' care of
him. He wouldn't stop threatening legal action until I let Jimin in."

"Did his torso actually separate?" Taehyung asked.

"Yes," Hoseok said decisively, nodding quickly with eyes bright and sincere. "There was so much
blood everywhere. It was awful."

"Cool," Taehyung breathed, eyes going wide.

"Don't," Namjoon moaned from the couch, bringing his hands up carefully to press his palms to his
face. "Jin…"

Jin patted his chest absent-mindedly in a sort of there, there gesture and flapped a hand at Hoseok,
lips working hard not to pull into a smile. "Be good," he said. "Our esteemed president is feeling
emotionally vulnerable." He sighed and sat back against the couch, shaking his head and rubbing a
hand over his face. "Are you sure you want to join, kid? Don't get me wrong, it seems like you're a
good fit for the stated purpose of the fraternity, but…" He waved a hand in a broad illustrative
gesture. "… this is the kind of stuff that comes along with it. It's a package deal. They'll help you
with your homework and get you in touch with production companies and studios and music clubs,
sure, but in the meantime…"

"Taehyung needs to be put a leash," Namjoon growled weakly. "Ow! Ow, goddamn it, Hoseok—"

"I'll stop pinching you when you apologize," Hoseok said conversationally.

"I'm sorry, shit - fuck, I apologized! Stop!"

"Apologize and mean it!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said," Namjoon stuttered, tucking in against Jin and the back of the
couch to get out of Hoseok's reach. "Just don't throw any more pizza on the damn roof, all right?"

"No need," Taehyung commented. He flashed Jeongguk a self-satisfied smile. "Everyone already
knows I can do it now."

"Great," Namjoon moaned, Jin fussing over him to readjust the washcloth back over his eyes.
"Great. That's great."

"I think…" Jeongguk adjusted awkwardly in his seat. "I think I'm sure. Professor Lee said this was
the frat to join if you were serious. About music," he added quickly, as Jin coughed out a gasp of
hysterical laughter. "Serious about music."

Jin took a second to catch his breath. "I guess I have to give you that one. They're all pretty serious
about music, even if that's the only thing they'll be serious about at all."

"Right," Jeongguk said. Took a deep breath. Asked a stupid question. "If you don't mind… you're
not in the College of Music, right? So why—"

"It's a long story," Jin interrupted, not unkindly. "Or a boring one, anyway. If it helps, don't think of
me as so much an official part of the frat. I just live here."

Namjoon reached up and pinched Jin on the shoulder - an impressive feat, considering the
washcloth covering his eyes. "Shut the fuck up. You're an official part of the frat."

"Jin's our mom," Taehyung said. He turned to look up at Jin, hooking one elbow over the side of
the couch. "So? Do you say it's cool? Probationary period for Fall term?"

Jin shrugged and sat back against the couch, hand going back to rest on Namjoon's chest. "Sure,"
he said. "Have at it. It's not like you can get into any more trouble."

In retrospect, this probably wasn't the best turn of phrase to use at this juncture.
 The One Where Park Jimin Gets Abducted
Chapter Notes

I'm sure Jin Hyosang is a marvelous human being. Unfortunately for my purposes he's
mostly just convenient. (Sorry, Jin Hyosang.)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Yoongi—”

“This is happening,” Yoongi growled, striding forward with a beer bottle clenched in each fist.
“Don’t even fuckin’ try and stop me. I’m gonna kill these fuckers, you don’t even fuckin’ know—”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon barked, lurching forward to try to catch him by the elbow. “We are not killing
anyone today.”

Above them, the massive expanse of the Tau Delta house burned bright with the myriad expensive
Halloween decorations that the fraternity put up every damn year. Music was blasting out into the
night air, somewhere a mob of people was chanting something about ONE SHOT ONE SHOT ONE
SHOT, someone dressed in a half-hearted mouse costume was vomiting out of an upper-story
window.

“The hell we aren’t!” Yoongi rounded on Namjoon, jerking his elbow out of his grip. The angrier
he got the heavier the satoori in his mouth, and just right then he was only just this side of
understandable - Gyeongsang-do was thick on his tongue, tones singing and vowels conflating.
“The fuck do they think we are, they can just fuckin’ kidnap our goddamn mascot—"

“Jimin isn’t our mascot,” Namjoon shot back. "Maybe—"

“We don’t know that the Tau Deltas kidnapped him," Jin cut in, adjusting his costume primly. "He
could just be—"

“No!” Yoongi shook the beer bottles furiously. “He’s delicate! He won’t survive in there!”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “He’s not delicate, his biceps are bigger around than your goddamn
thigh.”

“HE DRINKS BEER WITH HIS PINKIES OUT, HE’S FUCKING DELICATE.”

“And he’s got the voice of an angel,” Taehyung added.

Hoseok leaned in toward Namjoon. “Plus he's wearing the Princess Daisy outfit.”

All six of them went very, very quiet for a second as the reality of it washed over them. (In the
moment of silence someone a block over took the opportunity to scream something about being a
wolf.) “Okay,” Namjoon said after the moment passed, raising one hand in an attempt at placating
the group. “Okay, so the Mario Party theme costumes were maybe not in his best interests here, but
—"

“He’s delicate,” Yoongi said again, the words hissing through bared teeth. “And they kidnapped
him.”

("But I'm dressed as Princess Peach," Jin was saying, twisting his hands together in a fretful sort
of motion. "Why would they kidnap Princess Daisy? The narrative just doesn't support—")

"At least we didn't decide on the Sailor Moon theme," Taehyung mused thoughtfully, adjusting his
hood. "That probably would have been worse."

Jeongguk jerked the mask off his face, choking on his own spit. "The what?!"

NAMJOON
Last May Sometime

"Hey!" Namjoon said, raising his voice. He thumped his fist on the kitchen table a couple of times,
rattling the glasses and bottles scattered over the surface. "Listen up, motherfuckers, this is—"

"Joonie," Jin murmured, smiling up at him.

"L-listen up," Namjoon started over, leaning over the table, palms flat on the wood, face going just
a tiny bit pink around the edges. "Um, esteemed colleagues and friends."

"Thank you," Jin said.

("I didn't know we were friends," Taehyung commented brightly to Jimin behind his hand. "Can
you really be friends with your parents?")

"In the interests of preventing last year's Halloween debacle," Namjoon continued, shooting a strafe
of glares down the table, "your esteemed Vice President and I have decided that we should prepare
a concept well in advance of the day itself and then try to actually plan something for once in our
miserable lives."

"Really?" Hoseok leaned back in his chair. "I thought that the Beta Tau Sigma Superhero theme
was a great idea."

"Not when all of you fuckers jack my costume," Yoongi gritted out.

"I think it's safe to say that dressing as Batman wasn't strictly your idea, Yoongi," Jin said mildly,
cocking his head to one side. "Although I may remind you that I'm the only one who didn't dress as
Batman."

Jimin leaned forward and gave Jin a bright grin. "Your Wonder Woman costume was inspired."

"Thank you, Jimin. Your Batman costume was the only one that didn't need fake muscles."

Namjoon cleared his throat. "So anyway we're currently accepting suggestions for costume themes.
Keep in mind there are six of us. Anybody?"

Silence around the table. Yoongi leaned back in his chair and gnawed on his thumb. Jimin ran a
hand through his hair and rolled his eyes upward to at least give the outward impression of thought.
Hoseok and Taehyung just kicked each other under the table a couple of times. Namjoon and Jin
shared a Look - it was a look they'd shared a hundred times by now, a thousand times, a million -
the kind of look where neither party's face moves even the tiniest fraction but still each knows
precisely what the other is thinking.

Of course, it was then that Namjoon found out that Jin wasn't really thinking what he thought he'd
been at all, because the corners of his mouth quirked up just the tiniest amount and his lips pursed
slightly in an expression of puckish wickedness that Namjoon knew (he knew) could spell
absolutely nothing but trouble and he opened his mouth and said, "Sailor Moon."

"Yes!" Jimin said, at the exact same time Yoongi coughed out, "NO," and burst upward out of his
chair with explosive force.

"Jin," Namjoon choked out, face going bright red from the ears in, "okay, first off, that's—"

"There are six of us," Jin countered easily, waving a hand in a broad illustrative gesture around the
table. "There are the five inner senshi and then Tuxedo Mask, so…"

"Who would be Sailor Moon?" Hoseok said suddenly, leaning forward with an almost dangerous
look in his eye.

"Namjoon-hyung," Taehyung announced decisively, completely ignoring Namjoon's sputtered

protestations. "He's the leader."

Yoongi was bending over the table almost as if he were about to be sick, palms flat on the wood,
fingers curled, knuckles white with fury. "No. No. No. No. No. NO. WE ARE NOT DOING
SAILOR MOON."

"Ah, hyung," Jimin said sweetly, reaching out and tugging kindly on Yoongi's sleeve. "I think
you'd look good in a short skirt."

"No," Yoongi said again, but now he was also turning bright red and sitting slowly back down in
his chair. "Jimin - I mean… shit, who would I even—"

"You would be Sailor Mars because you look good in red," Jimin said, "I'd be Sailor Mercury,
Taetae would be Sailor Venus, Hoseok-hyung would be Sailor Jupiter, and Namjoon-hyung would
be Sailor Moon."

"I could be Jupiter," Hoseok mused thoughtfully. "I've got the legs for it."

"And Jin?" Namjoon managed, finding his voice again.

"Tuxedo Mask," Taehyung said, thumping one fist down on the table like a gavel. "We could get
him a rose and everything."

"I will riot," Yoongi growled, still absolutely beet red and fuming. He slid down in his chair, arms
folded tight over his chest. "I will burn this fucking place to the fucking ground. Sailor Moon? Are
you fuckers serious? Is hip hop dead?"

Namjoon pressed both palms down onto the table. "Okay, look, not that it's not a very interesting
idea—"

"Thank you," Jin said.

"—but I for one think that it would probably be safer for all of us if we vetoed the Sailor Moon
idea," he continued, shooting Jin a Look. (It was a very different kind of look than the one before.
This one had knives in it.) "Does anyone have any ideas that don't involve Yoongi committing
arson?"
If Namjoon hadn't known better he would have thought that Jin looked across the table at Hoseok
and that Hoseok had made eye contact in return - just for a second, less than a second, just enough
time for a flash of mutual understanding to pass between them - but he didn't get a chance to think
about it because Hoseok leaned forward, flashed Namjoon a smile like the sun itself, and said,
"Mario Party."

Taehyung shot to his feet. "YOSHI," he screamed. "I GET TO BE YOSHI."

JEONGGUK
Halloween, 8pm

"We have a problem," Taehyung intoned seriously, elbow looped around Jeongguk's neck. He was
already wearing his Yoshi costume - it was really more of a dinosaur costume to be completely
honest, formed almost entirely out of items he already had in his wardrobe: a green zipped hoodie
with a printed scale pattern, white felt teeth set into the hood, a green spiky ridge sewn into the
hood and down the middle of the back until it culminated in a tail; green canvas cargo pants;
orange converse high tops stood next to the door ready and waiting for him.

"It's a serious problem," Jimin added, holding onto Jeongguk's elbow on the opposite side.

His Princess Daisy costume wasn't quite completed yet but was beginning to take shape: a gold
mylar button-up with the sleeves hemmed off to show his arms, a white-gold collar chain linking
the points of his collar with two large green stones on each lapel; white gloves closed at the wrist
with matching green stone fasteners; a pair of shorts, cut just above the knee and painted gold to
match the button-up with a careful application of fabric paint and glitter. The only thing missing
was his crown, but that (Jeongguk knew for a fact) was just back on top of Jimin's dresser, its last
coat of gold spray paint still drying. And the shoes of course, similarly gold, but those were in the
entryway next to Taehyung's orange high tops.

"It's not that big of a deal," Jeongguk said, waving his free hand as well as he could. He wasn't
wearing a costume at all. "I mean—"

"Nah," Hoseok interrupted, waving one hand and walking around the three of them in a circle,
looking Jeongguk up and down. He was wearing a suit - more of a tuxedo, really - black and white
with a blue satin vest underneath the jacket, a white bow tie with red polka dots, white butler's
gloves. "Nah, it's a problem. You seriously don't have a costume?"

"I wasn't really planning on—"

"Kid," Hoseok said, putting both hands on Jeongguk's shoulders and leaning toward him. "Listen.
You're one of us now."

"On a probation period," Namjoon commented over his shoulder as he wandered past the living
room into the kitchen, tugging at his collar. His red oxford was still untucked and his suspenders
hung around his legs.

Hoseok rolled his eyes and flapped a hand dismissively. "Ignore him. You're one of us, which
means you need to have a costume."

"Koopa?" Taehyung suggested, a grin stretching wide over his face. "I think I have a backpack that
we could—"
"No," Hoseok said. He reached out and pulled on one of the strings of Jeongguk's red hoodie
thoughtfully. "I think I know exactly what he should be."

There were a few minutes of quiet as Hoseok went down to the basement. Jeongguk looked from
Taehyung to Jimin and then back again. "So, uh… any clue what this is gonna be?"

"Shy Guy," Hoseok said, re-emerging from the basement door triumphantly, holding up a white
plaster mask.

"Yesssss," Jimin hissed, pumping one arm.

"Yo princess," Yoongi barked, standing in the threshold between the living room and the front
hallway. He was still buttoning up his shirt (green, with a white collar) and looked vaguely
disgruntled. "Do you know where my suspenders are?"

Jimin dropped Jeongguk's elbow and went to Yoongi, hand going to his mouth thoughtfully. "Last I
saw them they were hanging from your bedstead. Did you move them?"

"Of course I didn't move them, but they're not there now and the only thing I can think of is that
you put them somewhere."

"Why would Jimin move them?" Jeongguk mouthed to Taehyung, but Taehyung just put on a
carefully clueless look and rolled his eyes.

"They were in the way," Hoseok interrupted, pushing the mask into Jeongguk's hands and heading
toward the stairs. "I hung them from the doorknob on the closet, give me a second. I need to get my
hat anyway."

Namjoon came back out of the kitchen, shoving his hands down his trousers to tuck in his red shirt,
suspenders looped over his elbows, newsboy cap (a big white felt letter M stuck to the front)
crammed under one arm. "Where the hell is Jin? He said he'd be down in a minute."

"I'm coming," Jin's voice came floating down the stairs, an undercurrent of irritation lacing the
words. "Keep your shirt on, Mario. These shorts are ridiculous."

"My shirt's on," Namjoon said, buttoning his trousers. "Are you going to come down?"

Footsteps on the stairs - and it was Hoseok, thumping down the steps with Yoongi's suspenders in
one hand, a white fez spotted with red dots in the other, and a huge, unbelievably delighted grin on
his face. "Fuckin' hell, you guys," he hissed. "Fucking hell. You're not gonna believe how good
this is."

"How good what is?" Namjoon growled, hands going up to button his collar. "Jin—"

It took a couple seconds for Jin to come into view down the stairs, but by the time he was standing
on the first landing everyone had gone completely silent. He stood there for a second and very very
slowly made a face. "Yeah," he said flatly. "I know."

"Jesus fuckin' christ," Yoongi choked out. "Jesus fuckin' christ, hyung, that's—"

"— really, really fuckin' pink," Hoseok finished for him, face twisted into a rictus of glee. "That's
so fuckin' pink, Jin. That's fuckin' amazing."

"It made sense when I was putting it together," Jin said, looking down at himself. His costume was
pretty similar to Jimin's - knee-length shorts, white ankle socks with lace edging at the cuffs,
sleeved button-up shirt with a collar chain (gold instead of silver, with blue stones in place of
green) - but instead of gold the whole thing was pink. Bright pink. Brilliant pink. Lurid pink. He
wore a cardboard crown on his head, spraypainted gold with blue and red stones hot-glued to the
sides and affixed to his hair with a complex systems of bobby pins and hair clips. "Go get your
crown, Jimin. I can't be the only one looking like this."

Jimin giggled and curtsied extravagantly. "Your majesty."

"I look ridiculous," Jin moaned.

"You look good," Namjoon said after a second, shrugging his suspenders up onto his shoulders. "I
mean - fine. You look fine. And anyway you can't back out now, it's Halloween, and it's—" He
brought his wrist up. "—past eight o'clock already, jesus. Okay, we're doing shots and heading out,
all right? Everybody in the goddamn kitchen." He pointed at Jeongguk. "Not you. No probationary
fetuses permitted alcohol in the Beta Tau Sigma house."

"I'm not a fetus," Jeongguk protested, still clutching the white plaster mask Hoseok had pushed
into his hands five minutes ago. "I'm eighteen years old, and—"

"You're kinda a fetus," Yoongi commented mildly, clipping his suspenders to his trousers and
snapping them into place. "Don't worry. You'll get alcohol eventually. It's not all it's cracked up to
be."

"Wait," Taehyung said, looking around and patting his pockets like he was checking for his wallet.
"Where's Jimin?"

They'd crashed their way through three house parties on Greek row by then, mostly for the food
and the alcohol but a little bit so Hoseok could dance up on literally everyone on the dance floor
while Namjoon and Jin stood by the wall splitting a plate of finger food (if it was even possible to
split something with Jin, he always ended up eating everything) and attempting shouted, half-heard
conversation. Taehyung inevitably dragged Jeongguk and Yoongi out to join Hoseok every time -
difficult at first but an increasingly simple prospect the more Yoongi drank. By the third house
party Jin was shouting something in Namjoon's ear about maybe cutting Yoongi off and Namjoon
was shouting back something about it being really loud in here, could we talk about this later, and
anyway the bass is about to drop so holy shit could we leave I'm serious it's super fucking loud in
here Jin, I'm a musician, I can't lose my hearing this young.

By the time Namjoon waded out onto the dance floor and collected the Beta Tau Sigma
brotherhood like a line of baby ducks and dragged them out again into the October night Yoongi
was almost completely plastered and Hoseok's tuxedo was practically drenched with sweat (and
what smelled a little like spilled Adios Mother Fucker) and Jeongguk's mask had had to be re-
affixed four separate times and Taehyung's hood was shoved back on his shoulders and Jin had had
just enough alcohol to make him just a little bit giggly, which in some ways was an extremely
terrifying prospect.

"What do you mean, where's Jimin," Jin said, squinting at Taehyung. He glanced over the group of
them, standing on the grass outside of the Sigma Nu Sigma Delta sorority house - hand up, fingers
flickering like an elementary school teacher doing a quick head count after a particularly eventful
zoo visit. "All six of us are here."

Taehyung grabbed Jeongguk's elbow and pulled him in. "But we're seven now," he insisted. "This
is Jeongguk. There are only six of us, and Jimin isn't here."
Yoongi stopped short. "Jimin isn't here?" He stood stock-still on the grass for a second. "Wait,
wasn't he—"

"Okay," Namjoon said quickly, raising both hands, palms out. "Let's keep calm. Retrace our steps."

"I don't think I saw him in the Sigma Nu party," Hoseok said slowly, shooting Yoongi a look out of
the corner of his eye. "I figured he was just in the bathroom or something."

"Before that was the Beta Alpha Phi house," Jin said, counting down on his fingers. "And before
that—"

"Before that we had the run-in with those Tau Deltas," Yoongi said suddenly. He turned on the
grass and stared up the street. Two plots down was the biggest Greek house on the row, huge and
white with massive plantation-style pillars along the front, lit up and glorious in orange and purple
and red.

"No," Hoseok said.

"They wouldn't," Jin said.

"Could they have…?" Taehyung said.

"What?" Jeongguk cut in, completely lost. "Could they have what?"

"Kidnapped him," Yoongi breathed out, and there was fire in his eyes. He glanced down at the
lawn, kicking his feet for a second before squatting down and picking up two empty beer bottles
by their necks. "Those fuckin' Tau Deltas fuckin' kidnapped Jimin."

“Yoongi—”

“This is happening,” Yoongi growled, striding forward with a beer bottle clenched in each fist.
“Don’t even fuckin’ try and stop me. I’m gonna kill these fuckers, you don’t even fuckin’ know—”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon barked, lurching forward to try to catch him by the elbow. “We are not killing
anyone today.”

“The hell we aren’t!” Yoongi rounded on Namjoon, jerking his elbow out of his grip. The angrier
he got the heavier the satoori in his mouth, and just right then he was only just this side of
understandable - Gyeongsang-do was thick on his tongue, tones singing and vowels conflating.
“The fuck do they think we are, they can just fuckin’ kidnap our goddamn mascot—”

“Jimin isn’t our mascot,” Namjoon shot back. "Maybe—"

“We don’t know that the Tau Deltas kidnapped him," Jin cut in, adjusting his costume primly. "He
could just be—”

“No!” Yoongi shook the beer bottles furiously. “He’s delicate! He won’t survive in there!”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “He’s not delicate, his biceps are bigger around than your goddamn
thigh.”

“HE DRINKS BEER WITH HIS PINKIES OUT, HE’S FUCKING DELICATE.”

“And he’s got the voice of an angel,” Taehyung added.

Hoseok leaned in toward Namjoon. “Plus he's wearing the Princess Daisy outfit.”
All six of them went very, very quiet for a second as the reality of it washed over them. (In the
moment of silence someone a block over took the opportunity to scream something about being a
wolf.) “Okay,” Namjoon said after the moment passed, raising one hand. “Okay, so the Mario
Party theme costumes were maybe not in his best interests here, but—”

“He’s delicate,” Yoongi said again, the words hissing through bared teeth. “And they kidnapped
him.”

"At least we didn't decide on the Sailor Moon theme," Taehyung mused thoughtfully, adjusting his
hood. "That probably would have been worse."

"The what?!" Jeongguk choked out, pulling the mask off his face.

"It's a long story," Taehyung said quickly, waving a hand and shaking his head. "We decided on
the Mario Party idea, and anyway now that there are seven of us the Sailor Moon idea won't work
next year. Unless we dressed you as one of the cats…?"

"You can't just storm into the Tau Delta house with two empty beer bottles and a big enough buzz
to kill a horse and expect it to work," Jin was saying to Yoongi, planting his fists on his hips. "We
can—"

"He's in there," Yoongi insisted, shaking a beer bottle in Jin's face. "I know he's—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Namjoon grabbed Yoongi's wrist and pulled him back. "Okay, granted,
Jimin might be in there so we'll all go in there and see if we can find him. Okay? Yoongi. Yoongi!
Okay? Respond."

("I think he could make a pretty good Luna," Taehyung was saying thoughtfully.)

"Okay," Yoongi bit out.

Jin held out his hands. "Beer bottles."

("Nah," Hoseok replied. "Dye his hair, make him Chibi Moon. Jin should be Luna. It fits his
personality better.")

"But—"

"No," Jin said firmly, and flapped his fingers in a quick beckoning motion. "You're drunk. I'm not
allowing you to take two empty beer bottles into the Tau Delta house, you might try to use them -
god forbid - and then we'll all finish up the evening in the drunk tank at the police station. Or
worse, the ER."

"Again," Namjoon added darkly.

"Yoongi had appendicitis," Hoseok said. "He had to get emergency surgery."

"Still. Halloween. In the ER."

"Fine," Yoongi spat, thrusting the beer bottles into Jin's hands. (Jin looked at them for a second,
shrugged, and tossed them back over his shoulders. They hit the street and shattered.) "Can we just
go?"
 JIN

The music was loud in the Tau Delta house. It was way too loud, way louder than it ever got at
home. Somewhere there was a strobe machine (two strobe machines, three, maybe sixteen strobe
machines all lined up and very carefully out of sync) and somewhere else there was a smoke
machine and in yet another location there seemed to be… a bubble machine? There was a bubble
machine. Who on earth thought that a bubble machine at a Halloween party was the done thing?
Was this supposed to be Wizard of Oz themed? Was Glinda the Good Witch going to come
floating in from the North at any moment?

Come to think of it, maybe a Wizard of Oz theme wouldn't be the worst idea in the world for next
year. He'd have to come up with a way to talk Namjoon into it before even thinking of letting the
idea slip, though, or it would never gain any traction with any of them. Maybe if he promised
Taehyung that he could be Toto…?

It was when he was stuck halfway through figuring out how he'd talk Yoongi into a Cowardly Lion
costume that he heard it.

They were threading through the heaving pulsing drunken crowd like a drop of oil over water, the
elbow of Namjoon's jacket sleeve held tight in one hand as he followed him through the crowd, and
the music was too loud (way too loud) and the dozens of strobe machines were flickering and the
smoke machine had started to cough asthmatically and the bubble machine was working about as
well as could be expected and somewhere somehow in the crush and scream of it he heard Jin
Hyosang laugh.

He knew that laugh. He knew it. He heard that laugh and when he took in his next breath it was
like sucking ice water into his lungs; when he blinked and opened his eyes again the world had
tunneled in and gone dark; his ears were ringing and he couldn't tell what the song was playing
overhead because all there was in the universe was that laugh. He heard the way Hyosang's eyes
disappeared with it, he heard the way his mouth curved, he heard the way his head fell back.

Jin stopped cold in the middle of the dance floor and looked over his shoulder. But he couldn't be
here, right? He'd graduated, gotten his Master's and gotten a job somewhere and moved on. He had
to have moved on. Why the hell hadn't he moved on?

Whatever song it was that had been playing wound down and the beat slowed and the next track
kicked in, threaded seamlessly into the mix. The people in the crowd shuffled and adjusted and
breathed in and out like waves, the rush of conversation and adrenaline swirling around them, and
when the crowd split and the light changed and Jin finished turning on his heel he felt almost like
Moses facing down the red sea—

Jin Hyosang looked up, and blinked, and opened his mouth. "Jin?" he said, blinking in the sudden
light. "Kim Seokjin? What are you doing here?"

—but unlike the Bible story the enemy was in front of him, not behind.

The costume Hyosang was wearing was - it was horribly, perfectly ironic was what it was. Jin was
Princess Peach (of all the stupid costumes in the world he could have ended up in, he let Hoseok
and Taehyung talk him into it because it was funny) and Hyosang was dressed like a king: crown
on his head, green velvet doublet, boots and gloves and perfect hair and fake rapier hanging loose
on his hip. He was dashing and Jin was ridiculous.

"Hyosang," Jin said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Hyosang said. His eyes flickered for a second. "I didn't expect
you to be here of all places."

"I'm looking for someone," Jin said. He cocked his head to one side, held up a hand to eye level.
"His name's Park Jimin - shorter than me, round cheeks, dressed in gold. He went missing about an
hour ago."

"Haven't seen him," Hyosang replied, shrugging. "I think I'd remember someone dressed in gold."
But then he nodded, gesturing vaguely over Jin's shoulder with the can of beer he held in one hand.
"Your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," Jin said, shooting Hyosang the coldest, most unimpressed look he could
muster. "Jimin's not - I'm not—"

A hand closing around his wrist, jerking him backward, and then Namjoon was standing in front of
him, facing down Jin Hyosang like he was going up against the final boss in a video game. Jin's
stomach twisted. He'd dropped his hold on Namjoon's sleeve the second he'd heard Hyosang's
laugh and he found himself wishing that he'd dropped it sooner. Seconds sooner, maybe even
minutes. Wishing he'd never held onto it at all, because now Namjoon was right there standing
between him and Jin Hyosang with that one look on his face (that cold blank look where his eyes
were hooded and his jaw was slack and he was just waiting for somebody, anybody to say the
wrong thing) and god, god, god, what if he'd—

"We're leaving," Namjoon said, his voice low and hard and cut from stone. "Yoongi. Hoseok. Go
ahead and keep looking for Jimin. Jin's coming home with me."

NAMJOON

The night air hit Namjoon's skin hard like he'd jumped out of summer straight into a lake full to
bursting with glacial runoff, but even as he sucked in a deep breath and saw stars he still kept on.
He didn't know what Jin Hyosang had done, once upon a time. He hadn't known Jin then, not
really, not well, but he knew him now - the way Jin's spine straightened and his broad shoulders
squared and the way his chin tipped up and the way his voice absolutely didn't, didn't shake when
he spoke to Jin Hyosang, when Jin Hyosang popped up all over again after more than a year of
being (almost) as good as dead.

The front porch of the Tau Delta house was nearly as crowded as the dance floor inside, almost as
many people talking and yelling and screaming and drinking, almost as many people slamming
into them and nearly ripping Namjoon's hand off of Jin's wrist. But he clenched his jaw and he held
on and it wasn't until they were on the street (the asphalt littered with red solo cups and vomit) that
he let himself breathe again, let himself breathe and look back at Jin.

In the sick green-gold of the streetlights the pink of Jin's costume (the pink shorts, the pink button-
up shirt) looked faded and washed out, his bangs in his face cast a shadow over his eyes - but his
hand was loose in Namjoon's grip and he looked wilted and tired and… and honestly kind of
messed up. It took him a million years to even get a little bit buzzed and he'd only had three shots
and half of one of Yoongi's beers but still he looked kind of messed up and slanted.

"Hey," Namjoon said, but his voice stuck in his throat - from that goddamn smoke machine or the
sudden chill of the October night air or something, fuck - and he had to cough before he spoke
again. "Hey. Listen, that dumbshit… he's not worth it, all right? The hell is he doing here anyway,
fuck, I mean… Jin, hey—"

But Jin wasn't saying anything, he was just turning away and scrubbing at his face with the heel of
his free hand, and in the glow of the streetlights it almost looked like he'd put glitter on his cheeks,
but—

Wait. Shit.

"Hey," Namjoon said again, chest constricting. He moved in one step closer, tugged on Jin's wrist
just a little bit harder. "Are you okay?"

"I really wasn't expecting to see Hyosang," Jin said after a second, his voice thick. "It really… it
really took me by surprise." Then he laughed. Shook his head. "It just surprised me. We should go
back and look for Jimin."

"Nah. Yoongi's probably destroying the Tau Delta house right now looking for him, we'd just get
in the way." Namjoon grinned at him and tried to pretend that he hadn't seen the tears on Jin's
cheeks, tried to pretend he wasn't inches away from going back inside that goddamn house, tried to
pretend that he wanted to do something, anything other than punching Jin Hyosang in his goddamn
face. "Listen—"

"I'm okay, Joonie," Jin said.

"Jin - shit." Namjoon knew that that last Joonie was final, a door closing on whatever the hell
kinda conversation he was trying to have, but where normally he would roll his eyes and go with it
(because it wasn't worth arguing with Jin when he got like this, it wasn't like he was about to
change his mind) today he pushed on anyway because just right then he cared more about
something other than keeping the motherfucking peace. "You're my crew, Jin. All right? You're on
my crew, and nobody messes with my fuckin' crew. It's not cool, and I'm not cool with it." He took
a breath. "It's great you're okay, but—"

"Well, I'm a little cold," Jin said thoughtfully, twisting his wrist in Namjoon's hand. "Wherever
we're going, could it at least be inside? This costume was designed in August."

Namjoon looked at Jin, really looked at him - the pink cotton button-up was thin and he just had a
sleeveless undershirt on under it, the shorts were linen and barely even reached his knees - and then
looked down at himself, in his dark blue suit with red oxford, and felt like a goddamn idiot. "We're
going home," he said, dropping Jin's wrist and reaching up to his lapels. In the space of a second
his suit jacket was off and he was swinging it over Jin's shoulders. "But it'll take a few minutes. If
you freeze to death who's gonna feed all of us? Taehyung? Jimin? We'll die of malnutrition."

Jin stared at him, expression very carefully blank for just a second before it cracked into a grin. He
shook his head and took a step forward, striding past Namjoon to make his way down the street.
"You can always hire a cook like all of the other frats."

"The fuck kinda hired cook has a degree in food science?" Namjoon argued, trailing after him.
Shit, it was way colder out of that fucking jacket than he'd realized. He felt like an even bigger
idiot for not thinking about Jin's outfit sooner. "Nobody's as good as you."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

Which is when Namjoon opened his mouth and said a stupid thing: "What did he do?"

"What did who do?"

"Hyosang," Namjoon said. "I mean - when I first met you, you two were—"

"We were close," Jin cut in, not looking up to meet his eye. "Yeah. We were - we were friends.
Now we're not. It isn't a very interesting story."

"It's a story I've never heard. Shit, Jin, how long have you and I—"

"We were friends for a long time." Jin hummed a few bars of Tale As Old As Time from Beauty
and the Beast. "We knew everything about each other. We did everything together. We were
close," he said again, like he wasn't sure what else to say.

"Closer than we are?"

Jin laughed. "Yeah. Sorry. Way closer."

That was okay. They'd only known each other for a few years, it wasn't like - so what if Jin was the
closest friend he'd ever had? That didn't obligate Jin to be the same with him. "Damn. That's…
cool. Being close. Nice."

"Yeah, well." Jin shrugged, and Namjoon's jacket slid off one shoulder a little. Jin's shoulders were
just a little too wide but the rest of him was just a little too thin so it fit him strangely, too big and
too small at the same time. "We were friends for a long time and then we both got into the same
university and he went into music and I went into food science and he made a bunch of new friends
and we stopped spending so much time together. Maybe that was good," he added thoughtfully,
"but at the time I took it kind of hard."

"So that's it? He abandoned you?"

"Eventually." Jin shrugged again, pulling the jacket a little tighter. "We fought a lot first. I asked
him to choose, which was stupid."

"What did he say to that?"

"That I was holding him back."

The night air was freezing but for just a second Namjoon went boiling hot from the inside out, heat
blooming in his solar plexus like a sudden spark at the end of a miserably dry summer. Jin was still
saying something - ("It was kind of true, it's not like I was very helpful with his whole music
thing") - but Namjoon was burning up so he reached out despite himself, grabbed hold of Jin's
shoulder, turned him bodily so that they were facing each other.

"That's bullshit," Namjoon said through his teeth. "That's total fucking bullshit. You know that,
right?"

Jin just stared at him. "What?"

"You're not fuckin' holding anybody back, Jin."

"Not anymore, but—"

"No," Namjoon said. "Not now. Not then. Not ever. If anybody was holding anybody back it
wasn't you."

For a second Jin just looked at him, and if Namjoon hadn't known better then he would have
thought that the color rose a little in his cheeks. "Sure," he said after a few seconds of quiet. He
sounded a tiny bit breathless. "Sure. Thanks, Namjoon, that's really… that's nice of you. Thanks."
He reached out, smiled, wrapped his hand around Namjoon's wrist. "Let's just go home, all right?
It's cold out here."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. The whole time Namjoon felt words in the back of his
throat, on the tip of his tongue, bumping up against his teeth, but for the life of him he couldn't
figure out what they were. Whether they'd be the right words at all. If there needed to be any more
words just right then.

When they got back to the house all the lights upstairs were on and a telltale glow from the kitchen
in the back of the house shone through the front windows looking into the living room in a
ridiculous attempt to make the house look occupied. Jin unlocked the front door. Took a second to
untie his pink shoes in the entryway. Shrugged off Namjoon's jacket, handed it to him, and then
froze stock-still in the front hallway, stocking feet quiet on the wood.

He glanced at Namjoon over his shoulder, confusion and just a little bit of fear flashing across his
face. "Do you hear that?"

Namjoon looked at him and willed the buzzing in his ears to go down for a second. "It sounds
like… singing?"

"Warbling," Jin said, wandering further back into the house.

"Oh, shit," Namjoon groaned, running a hand down his face. "Jin, is it seriously—"

"Yeah," Jin's voice floated back in from the kitchen. "You better text Yoongi before he gets
arrested."

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:41, Oct 31
you can stop tearing apart the TD house

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:41, Oct 31
we found Jimin

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 23:42, Oct 31
WHERE THE DUCK WAS HE

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 23:42, Oct 31
WHO TOOK HIM

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 23:42, Oct 31
WHO DO I KILL
 From: Kim Namjoon
Sent: 23:43, Oct 31
okay, so in the order received

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:43, Oct 31
1. drunk under the kitchen table

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:43, Oct 31
2. the tequila fairy

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:43, Oct 31
3. no one, my prior instruction about no murder still stands

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 23:47, Oct 31
yooooo!!!! this is Hoseok!! (づ￣ ³￣)づ Yoongi just shoved his phone at me, I think we're coming
back now

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 23:47, Oct 31
he's piiiiiiiiiiissed in every sense of the word ヽ(^◇^;)/

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:48, Oct 31
great. that's great.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 23:48, Oct 31
don't forget to bring Taehyung and Jeongguk too

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 23:49, Oct 31
lol oh shit good point

Chapter End Notes

Okay so now you know that the Tau Deltas are (basically) Top Dogg - Beta Alpha Phi
is BAP and Sigma Nu Sigma Delta is SNSD. Thank you, kpop groups, for having so
many easy initialisms. It makes turning you into Greek institutions much easier.

The costumes were as follows:

Namjoon = Mario
Jin = Princess Peach
Yoongi = Luigi
Hoseok = Toad
Jimin = Princess Daisy
Taehyung = Yoshi
Jeongguk = Shy Guy
............................ also I not very sneakily based Jin Hyosang's costume off of Bowser.
/cough/

(Addendum: I do not condone littering and certainly do not condone leaving broken
glass in the street. Please do not follow Jin's lead, he's both drunk and a stupid frat boy
regardless of how mature he is compared to the others.)
 Interlude - November
Chapter Notes

Who's ready for some AWKWARD YOONMIN??????? SHOW OF HANDS,

EVERYBODY

Most of the chapters in this fic are going to have a discrete theme/arc and this one is
just Miscellaneous Occurrences In The Month Of November so it's an interlude. Next
chapter we will continue with the shenanigans.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

YOONGI
November 1, about 1am or so who knows

"Just get it out of your system," Yoongi said, sitting on the edge of the tub with his forehead resting
on one hand.

"I don't think I have any system left," Jimin moaned miserably, voice echoing in the bowl of the
toilet. He was draped over it almost artistically - legs curled under him, feet still in their lace-
hemmed white socks, muscular arms reaching up and around to practically hug the tank. His
slightly wilted cardboard Princess Daisy crown had been placed jauntily on the lid of the toilet as if
to give a certain solemn air to the occasion of Jimin puking his drunken guts out into the royal
john.

Yoongi sighed again, relenting just enough to reach out and pat Jimin on the shoulder as
reassuringly as he could. "You'll survive, kid," he said, voice hoarse from the smoke machines and
yelling that always seemed to go hand-in-hand with every Greek Row halloween celebration.
"You'll feel like shit on a stick and you'll be green around the edges for a coupla days but you'll
survive. Midterms next week," he added, as an afterthought.

Jimin groaned wholeheartedly into the toilet. "Oh, god. Don't remind me. I have a whole dance
routine that I haven't been practicing enough."

Yoongi shrugged his suspenders off his shoulders and left them to hang around his elbows. "No
dancing until you're done being hungover."

"I'll never be done being hungover. This is my life now. I'll always be vomiting. Like in the
Exorcist."

"I can't believe Namjoon-hyung let you watch that," Yoongi growled under his breath. "It's been a
year and you're still not fuckin' over the pea soup scene."

"It was scary."

"It was fake."

"Your face is fake," Jimin mumbled weakly, petulantly, shoving himself up out of the toilet and
scrambling almost blindly for the handle to flush all of the solid (and not-so-solid) evidence of his
thoroughly unsuccessful halloween down into the sewers. "I'm… I'm so drunk, hyung."

"It'll pass." Yoongi stood up and went over to the sink, turning on the tap and sticking a washcloth
under the stream. "I ever tell you about the first halloween I spent at Beta Tau Sigma?"

"… No?" Jimin hazarded after a second, still slumped loosely against the bowl of the toilet. He
glanced up. "Was it worse than this?"

"Had appendicitis," Yoongi clipped out, wringing out the washcloth and turning to squat next to
Jimin on the floor - rubbing his face down, his throat, his neck, unbuttoning his collar a little to
carefully blot at the sweat on his collarbones. "Didn't tell anybody. Kept insisting I was fine. Ended
up in the ER with a burst appendix and a hangover. Not a good combination," he continued, tossing
the spent washcloth up into the sink. "Think you can stand?"

Jimin stared blearily down at his feet. "Maybe," he said eventually. "The bathroom isn't really
spinning, is it?"

"Nope. Just you." Yoongi reached down, palms out. "Come on, kid. You can't spend all damn
night on the bathroom floor."

"Sure I can," Jimin sighed, but reached up and hauled himself up anyway. "I feel so gross."

"Brush your teeth. It'll make you feel better."

"Kay." Jimin blinked sleepily. "I wanna take a shower."

"Maybe after you brush your teeth." Yoongi stood over Jimin as he slouched over the sink,
fumbling for his toothbrush, toothpaste, the tap. "Fuck, just—" He tugged the toothbrush out of
Jimin's loose grip and wet it, shook off the excess, splurted toothpaste onto the bristles. "Open."

"You don't have to brush my teeth," Jimin mumbled, but opened his mouth dutifully anyway.

"You're drunk as a skunk. And your breath stinks. And you dropped your toothbrush four goddamn
times before I took the fuckin' thing away from you. Pretty sure I need to brush your teeth if it's
gonna get done. Spit."

Jimin leaned over and spat into the sink before taking the glass of water Yoongi offered him to
rinse his mouth out. "You're too good to me, hyung," he said, water leaking out the corners of his
mouth.

"Don't remind me," Yoongi shot back. "Spit the water out, you're fuckin' disgusting. Now—"

Jimin sighed and tipped over, arms reaching out for Yoongi's waist, but Yoongi caught him before
he fell over entirely. "I wanna take a shower."

Yoongi's hands tightened involuntarily on Jimin's forearms and he looked down at their feet on the
bathmat, Jimin's white socks opposite his black ones. "You should get out of that costume," he said
after a second, his voice tight in his chest. "Into some pajamas or some shit."

Jimin sighed and sagged a little, not a lot, just enough to make panic rise hot and fast in the back of
Yoongi's throat - compelling him to step forward and in and wrap one hand around Jimin's waist in
case the kid fell over. "I wanna take a shower," Jimin moaned, and - and leaned over, resting his
forehead on Yoongi's shoulder. "I feel gross."

Yoongi stared resolutely at the bathroom wall. "You can't take a shower," he said, voice slow and
deliberate and sounding distant even to him. "You're drunk. You'll fall over and crack your head
open in the tub and Tae will never forgive me."

"You could shower with me!" Jimin picked his head up and gave Yoongi a fuzzy grin. "Then I
wouldn't fall over!" He slouched a little into Yoongi's side, hands curling around his elbow, tugging
at him petulantly. "Hyung please I just wanna take a shower—"

"I can get Tae—"

"He's sleeping," Jimin interrupted, shaking his head. "And anyway—"

"You're drunk," Yoongi repeated, the strength coming back into his voice. "And I'm not gonna
shower with you when your boyfriend's asleep, I'm not—" Jimin jerked his head back and stared at
him. "—What?"

"My boyfriend?"

"Tae," Yoongi said slowly. "Your boyfriend." Jimin just blinked. "Jimin seriously you two do
everything together, it's not like it's a secret, and nobody—" He swallowed, twisting his arm in
Jimin's slowly-tightening grip. "—and anyway it's not like anybody cares."

"Tae isn't my boyfriend," Jimin said. "We're not - he's not—" He grimaced, closed his eyes, rubbed
a hand over his face. "We're just best friends, hyung. Please, please just help me take a shower and
stop being all weird and confusing because I'm seriously so drunk, I just wanna take a shower and
go to bed."

"Okay," Yoongi stuttered out. "Okay, I'll - I'm gonna keep my underwear on cause nobody needs to
—"

"Whatever," Jimin sighed happily, hands coming up to tangle with the buttons on his gold shirt. He
struggled for a few seconds and then pouted. "Help me?"

Yoongi reached up with shaking hands - felt the back of his neck go hot and knew that any second
the blush was going to start creeping inexorably over his face. "You're pathetic."

Jimin stepped on his socks to pull them off one after the other and hummed a slow, self-satisfied
acknowledgment of his own pitifulness, before blinking and reaching up again - this time for the
buttons on Yoongi's green oxford. "You know," he said, voice slurred and drunk and half asleep,
"in the games Princess Daisy and Luigi were always paired up. Like Mario and Peach. Luigi and
Daisy."

"Yeah," Yoongi grunted, fingers fumbling over the last few buttons. He jerked at the shirt to pull it
out of the waistband of Jimin's shorts - just a little harder than he meant to, setting Jimin off
balance slightly - and finally managed to get the last tiny, pearlescent button undone. "Put your
arms down so I can get this fuckin' thing off you. The hell were you thinking, not even wearing an
undershirt? It was fuckin' freezing out tonight."

Jimin let his arms flop bonelessly to his sides, eyes fluttering shut. "Not like I went out in it at all."

This was, Yoongi considered briefly, the absolute worst. Jimin was kind of a fitness nut - maybe it
came with the Music/Dance double major territory - and he seemed to subsist almost entirely on
kale and chicken breast and protein shakes and gallons and gallons and gallons of water. He ate
calisthenics for breakfast every morning and did pushups for lunch and lunges for an afternoon
snack and could probably squat twice his weight on the bar, and jesus, jesus, right now Yoongi
was taking his shirt off for him and the evidence of all those years of careful attention and diet and
work was staring him right in the goddamn face.

"Next year," Yoongi said weakly. "Next year you should probably wear something more
substantial."

"Jin-hyung was fine."

"Jin-hyung has the core temperature of a motherfucking volcano." Yoongi dropped Jimin's gold
shirt on the floor at the feet and stepped around him to bend into the tub. "Take your shorts off, I'm
gonna turn the water on."

"You're still wearing clothes," Jimin said behind him. "C'mere."

"I can take my own goddamn clothes off," Yoongi bit out, yanking at the tap a little rougher than
he meant to.

But then instead Jimin was coming up behind him, plucking gently at the back of his shirt. "You're
taking care of me," he said, voice singsong and lilting with the telltale Busan satoori that he'd tried
so hard to get rid of over the past few years but still always popped back up again when he was
drunk, when he was sleepy, when he was distracted, when he was all three at the same goddamn
time (with his eyes hooded and that one tired smile tugging at his lips and his cheeks pink with it
and Yoongi couldn't fuckin' look at him). "Let me take care of you, hyung."

"I don't need you to take care of me," Yoongi muttered, but he straightened up anyway and let
Jimin turn him around by his shoulders. Let Jimin struggle with the buttons on his shirt, pink
tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in inebriated concentration.

Jimin had unbuttoned his shorts, unzipped the fly, but they were still hanging loose from his
hipbones - the V of his hips peeking out over the elastic of his boxer briefs. (His boxer briefs were
red. Yoongi would have expected weird colors from Tae, or Hoseok maybe, but something about
bright fire-engine red boxer briefs under Jimin's gold-painted shorts made something twist in the
pit of his stomach.) His arms were distracting. His chest was distracting. His abs - jesus, everything
was distracting. Yoongi figured he had to be more drunk than he'd thought he was.

"There," Jimin sighed finally, shoving the shirt back over Yoongi's shoulders, hands going down
again to tug up on the undershirt before Yoongi could do it himself. The hem came up and Yoongi
just - just lifted his arms, like an idiot, like a kid, obedient and speechless under Jimin's intoxicated
spell. Jimin blinked, Yoongi's undershirt still in his hands. "Oh."

"Oh?" Yoongi looked down at himself. Everything seemed normal, for a given value of normal.
(What the fuck was normal about Park Jimin taking his clothes off?) "'Oh' what?"

"Nothing," Jimin said, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs. "Just… take
your pants off."

Yoongi spun around and god, any second now his entire body was going to be as red as a goddamn
lobster. This had been the worst idea in the universe - he'd just wanted to make sure Jimin was
okay after everything, hold his hair back as he threw up, clean him up a little and make sure he
didn't have anything worse than a hangover in the morning. He hadn't planned for Jimin to strip
naked in front of him, he hadn't planned on turning on the water and (god) agreeing to taking a
goddamn shower with him, he hadn't planned on anything. But god, god - this was Jimin, and hell
if Yoongi had ever been able to refuse him anything.

"I'm gonna keep my underwear on," Yoongi said again, staring at the wall and trying like hell not
to think about the quiet rustling sound of Jimin's shorts hitting the floor.

"'Kay," Jimin mumbled behind him, stepping into the tub and moaning a little when the water hit
his skin.

This was the absolutely fucking worst idea in the goddamn universe. Yoongi stood on the bathmat,
eyes screwed shut, fumbling slowly with the button on his trousers - trying to act like he was
taking off his clothes without actually having to do it. Jimin had joined the frat two years ago, arm-
in-arm with Taehyung, and they'd been inseparable ever since. They'd been inseparable before that,
too, but nothing had changed in the last two years and now - what had changed? Nothing,
apparently, but it felt like everything.

"Hyung," Jimin said behind him. "I'm gonna fall over and crack my head open in the tub and Tae'll
never forgive you. Hurry up."

"Yeah," Yoongi stuttered out, eyes flying open and button slipping free in his white-knuckled grip.
He stepped out of the loose trousers (they were too long and he'd had to have Jin pin them up for
him, eyes averted in embarrassment when he asked, mumbling the request under his breath) and
toed out of his socks and stood awkwardly on the bathmat for a second feeling as though time had
stopped, maybe just wishing that time had stopped, just long enough for him to catch his breath
and remind himself that this was fine. "Yeah," he said, and turned around.

When he got into the tub and pulled the curtain over to keep the mist and steam inside the tiled
shower stall Jimin was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and his head hanging back on
his shoulders and his arms hanging loose. He almost looked asleep, but when Yoongi pulled the
shower curtain across the bar and the metal rings scraped over the rod his eyes fluttered and opened
just enough to fix Yoongi with a sleepy look. "You look funny in just your underwear," he
mumbled, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come help me shampoo, I can't lift my arms
over my head without falling over."

"Your face looks funny," Yoongi stammered, trying to keep his eyes strictly above Jimin's waist.
(Ah, holy fuck - his thighs. Fuck. Oh, fuck. Did they even make thighs like that anymore? It should
be illegal.) "I can't believe you got this drunk off of just the pre-game shots," he added, swallowing
his nerves and stepping forward to gently manhandle Jimin away from the wall, aiming him under
the flow of water.

"I drank out of the bottle," Jimin sighed, a little shame-facedly. "When no one was looking."

Yoongi glared at him, hands tightening on Jimin's shoulders. "You little shit. No wonder you ended
up under the table. I'm gonna petition Namjoon-hyung to amend rule three to include both you and
Taehyung."

"I've never set anything on fire!" Jimin protested weakly. "And anyway it got you into the shower
with me, so it was worth it."

Yoongi froze halfway through splurting shampoo into his hand (Jimin's shampoo, the fruity one
with citrus and honeysuckle and whatever dumb bullshit he liked to rub on himself that made him
smell so - so fuckin' much like himself) so that it overflowed the bowl of his palm and dribbled
onto the floor of the tub. "What?"

But Jimin didn't answer him. He just smiled, eyes closing gently, reaching up to thread his fingers
together over the back of Yoongi's neck. "I can't believe," he said, his voice low, "that you thought
Tae was my boyfriend."
"You're drunk," Yoongi said desperately, stumbling over his words. "You're drunk, Jimin."

"The thing about being drunk," Jimin countered, sounding almost sober for a second, "isn't that it
makes you do things you wouldn't normally do. It just takes your inhibitions down. You do things
you want to do but are too scared."

"You're drunk," Yoongi repeated, trying to pull back.

Jimin opened his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I'm drunk."

And leaned in.

Jimin's mouth tasted like the mint of his toothpaste. Yoongi closed his eyes because this couldn't
be happening, right? He'd always had a pretty good alcohol tolerance and he didn't remember
drinking that much but this was… he had to be way, way more drunk than he thought he was, that
was all. He was dreaming, he was daydreaming, Jimin's tongue couldn't possibly be in his mouth,
Jimin's body (Jimin's naked body ohhh god oh god oh god) couldn't possibly be pressed against
him, Jimin's hands couldn't possibly be over the back of his neck.

If this wasn't really happening it was okay, right? It couldn't possibly be happening, this was just a
dream - so Yoongi gave in the way he always did when he had this dream and wrapped his arms
around Jimin's ribcage, hands coming up to loop over his shoulders. Yoongi gave in and kissed
Jimin back like he always did when he had this dream, like he always did when Jimin came on so
strong and Yoongi realized he was dreaming and in the middle of the night, in the middle of the
night in his own head, he could let himself have this.

But then Jimin made a noise - a little high noise in the back of his throat, something in between a
groan or a sigh or the sound someone made when they were waking up - and Yoongi realized that
he wasn't dreaming. He wasn't dreaming and this was real and Jimin was drunk and this wasn't
okay.

He jerked back, careful not to push Jimin too roughly and knock him over. "You're drunk," he
stuttered out. "You're drunk, Jimin. Come on, just - just wash off and go to bed, you're drunk—"

"You taste good," Jimin said. His eyes were closed and he was smiling and his lips were a little
swollen from how hard he'd been kissing Yoongi (oh, god - god god god) and there was a flush of
pink in his cheeks. "Can we do that again?"

"We'll talk," Yoongi stuttered out, carefully edging back to scrub shampoo over Jimin's scalp.
"When you're sobered up, we'll talk."

"Promise?"

Yoongi bit his lip and felt Jimin open his eyes, felt Jimin's eyes on his face, but couldn't bring
himself to meet his gaze. "Yeah. I promise."

HOSEOK
November 1, about 1:30am or so who knows

"Yah! Hoseok-ah, where the fuck are you?"

Hoseok groaned and swung his legs over the edge of his mattress. Rubbed a hand over his face.
Thought really, really hard about what would really happen if he ignored Yoongi's shout like he so
desperately wanted to - but then of course the first thing was that Jin would probably come to see
what was going on and if Jin got up then Namjoon wouldn't be too far behind and then everybody
would be standing around, which would be annoying, but then the worst thing would be that he
would have ignored Yoongi when he yelled, and Jeong Hoseok's mother had not raised a fool.

He groaned again and shoved himself to his feet, stumbling to the door - scrambling for the knob in
the dark to pull it open and stick his head out. "What?"

"Jimin passed out in the goddamn shower," came Yoongi's voice floating down the hall. He
sounded strained, like he was holding something heavy. "And he's way too fuckin' heavy for me to
get 'im into bed without help."

Hoseok closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the door jamb. He could feel the joke bubbling
up his throat but he knew, he knew that if he even dared to let it past his lips that Yoongi would
level some form of long-term and lasting punishment on him that he may not end up surviving.
"Okay," he yelled instead, stuffing the joke back down into his gut before closing the bedroom
door behind him and wandering down the hall toward the bathroom.

Yoongi was standing slouched over in the doorway to the main bathroom (the one everybody but
Jin and Namjoon shared, situated between the room Yoongi and Hoseok shared and the room
Taehyung and Jimin had been crammed into) sagging under the dead weight of Jimin's snoring
carcass. His face was red from the effort of holding him up and his hair was wet, shoved back from
his forehead hurriedly but now beginning to fall back in thickly soaked strands. He was wearing
only a pair of absolutely sopping wet black boxer briefs. Jimin was in a similar state - wet and
glistening, hair in his face, head sagging forward on his shoulders, but instead of wet black briefs
his were dry and bright, fire-engine red.

"Do I wanna know?" Hoseok hazarded.

"Do not," Yoongi growled, "test me. Just help me get me into his goddamn bedroom."

"Y'know, hyung," Hoseok said conversationally, stepping forward to loop his arms under Jimin's
armpits and hauling him upward to take his weight off of Yoongi's limp noodle physique, "there's a
special place in hell for people who take advantage of delicate creatures such as Park Jimin when
he's drunk."

"I didn't ask for any of your spiritual fuckin' guidance." Yoongi straightened up and let out a
heartfelt groan as his spine popped in four places. "Goddamn this kid is so fuckin' heavy I swear to
god, what does he eat?"

"Kale and dry chicken breast mostly." Hoseok adjusted his grip awkwardly. Jimin's damp hair was
soaking through the shirt he'd worn to sleep in and water was beginning to dribble down his
abdomen and sneak under the waistband of his pajama bottoms. "And way too much tequila, on
occasion. Did you want my help or were you just tryin' to get me to do this for you? Cause let's be
real for a second here, Jin-hyung is way stronger than—"

"We don't need to involve Jin-hyung," Yoongi mumbled hurriedly, darting forward to shove his
shoulder under one of Jimin's armpits. "He and Namjoon-hyung are probably spooning or some
gross shit by now and nobody needs to see that."

Hoseok rolled his eyes as he adjusted his grip so that Jimin's weight was slung between them
(slightly unevenly, because Yoongi was a) hilariously short and b) hilariously weak) and began
staggering awkwardly toward Jimin's room. "We don't know they spoon," he muttered under his
breath.

"They're married," Yoongi shot back. "We all know it."

"Well right because they're our parents but that doesn't mean they're actually fucking."

"I said 'spooning,' not 'fucking.'" Yoongi grunted as he shifted under Jimin's weight enough to
scramble with the door knob. "Tae and the fetus are still downstairs, right?"

"Far as I know. Just open the damn door before I drop your damn boyfriend."

Any other day that would have gotten a sputtered protest and a blush that would be record-
breaking if it weren't identical to every other damn blush that crept over Yoongi's face (and ears
and neck and scalp and presumably the rest of his fish-pale skin, but Hoseok didn't feel like going
to the effort of finding out if his hypothesis was correct) whenever Hoseok referred to Jimin as his
boyfriend but this time—

"Holy shit," Hoseok stuttered out, staring at Yoongi's slowly-reddening face over Jimin's head.
"Holy shit, did you - are you two—" Yoongi didn't look at him as he shoved through the doorway,
nudging the light on with his free elbow. "Hyung - hyung, look at me, I knew you were like in
fuckin' love with the kid for like a billion years but—"

"Shut up," Yoongi hissed at him, his face absolutely bright pink. "He might hear you." As if on
cue, Jimin emitted a truly impressive, window-rattling snore. "Well - okay," Yoongi stuttered out,
"but still could you just shut the fuck up? I'll - I'll fill you in but not… not now. Not here."

"Holy shit," Hoseok sang to himself under his breath as they stumbled over to Jimin's bed. (His
was the lower bunk, a fact for which Hoseok silently prayed his heartfelt thanks to any deity which
might be listening.) "Holy shiiiit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit Tae owes me so much moneyyyy—"

"He what?" Yoongi dumped Jimin onto the mattress, scooping his legs carefully onto the bed
before rounding on Hoseok. "He owes you money?"

Hoseok shrugged indulgently. "Tae was pretty sure you were gonna wait until you like graduated
or some shit, but I bet 'im you two would break down by the end of Fall term. We got fifty
thousand won riding on the particulars of your emotional constipation."

Yoongi took a deep breath and opened his mouth but Jimin took this opportunity to sigh and roll
over on his side, one hand coming up to rest on the pillow next to his face - and Yoongi took a
second to stare down at him, water still trickling down his legs from his soaking wet underwear.
"I'm not emotionally constipated," he said finally, tearing his eyes off of Jimin.

"Did you shower in your underwear with him?"

"Don't judge me," Yoongi hissed, and stomped out of the bedroom - leaving Hoseok standing the
middle of the cluttered floor with only a drunken, unconscious Park Jimin for company.

"Kid," Hoseok commented to Jimin's prone form, "you got your work cut out for you with this one.
May god have mercy on your soul."

JEONGGUK
 November 8

"I can't do this anymore," Jeongguk moaned, faceplanting hard into the book of manuscript paper
in front of him. "If I have to figure out harmony between treble and alto any time in the next five
minutes I think I'm going to kill something."

He was upstairs in the great room, sitting at the coffee table with his legs folded under the edge.
Yoongi was sprawled out across the couch in front of him with a music theory textbook open and
laying over his face, blue highlighter held loosely in one hand. Jimin was on the couch at his feet,
headphones over his ears, phone on his lap, leaning back on the cushions with his head tipped back
and his eyes closed and his fingers tapping out some infinitely complex rhythm on his knees.

Taehyung looked up from his own manuscript paper and grimaced. "Yeah. It gets to you. You'll
get the hang of it soon." He sighed and shoved his workbook away from him on the coffee table,
struggling to his feet before reaching down and catching hold of Jeongguk's elbow. "Let's go get a
snack. My legs fell asleep, I need to move."

"Yeah," Jeongguk sighed, wobbling to his feet.

"We have to be quiet," Taehyung commented conversationally as he started down the stairs.
"Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung are studying in the living room, and Namjoon-hyung gets super
into it so if you distract him it's every man for himself."

Jeongguk paused on the stairs. "What's that noise?"

Taehyung stopped on the stairs. "What? Oh." He listened for a second. "Sounds kind of like music?
Might be something Hoseok-hyung is working on in the basement, I don't know."

Downstairs the house was dark, but when they passed the living room a pink glow washed over the
floor. The only light on in the room was the tv playing music videos - just right then it was some
girl group video, obnoxiously pink and obnoxiously perky and blocked from view just very slightly
by Jin and Namjoon, standing in the middle of the room next to each other facing the tv and
bouncing off-rhythm.

Jeongguk froze, staring into the living room. "Are they…?"

"It's midterms," Taehyung said. "They always end up like this. I don't think either of them even
remember it afterward. Come on, come look." He wandered into the living room on careful steps,
sneaking conspicuously until he was almost level with Jin and Namjoon. He looked over his
shoulder and beckoned impatiently, grin spreading wide over his face.

Jeongguk swallowed his nerves and trailed after him. Taehyung reached out and grabbed his wrist,
dragging him in. "Look," he hissed into Jeongguk's ear, pointing at Jin and Namjoon like he was
narrating a nature documentary. "See?"

Both of their faces were blank and slack and staring into the tv as they bounced awkwardly on the
balls of their feet. On each OK! from the music video they raised their arms very slightly off-beat,
hands twisted into an OK sign. When the girl group in the video moved their hands over their faces
they copied along, a second or two behind and not at all managing to even match each other.

"They're really bad," Jeongguk hissed back.

Taehyung just shrugged, and shoved Jeongguk back towards the kitchen. "Midterms," he said
simply. "They're basically asleep in there. It happens every term. Spring term it was I Am The Best.
Namjoon was humming it until finals."
In the kitchen they grabbed a few things and then made their way back to the stairs. In the living
room the music video had ended and now both Namjoon and Jin were lying on the floor with their
eyes closed. Namjoon snored very very quietly and Jin reached out in his sleep, shoving Namjoon
in the shoulder until he rolled over on his side.

"They're married," Taehyung whispered, starting up the stairs.

"Actually?"

"Nah. Well, not legally. Nobody's really sure. They're just our parents."

When they got back to the great room Yoongi was sitting up, bent over his textbook again with his
legs slung over Jimin's lap. When Taehyung got to the top of the stairs Yoongi looked up. "Did I
hear music from the living room?"

Taehyung grinned and tossed a melon milk to him in a loose underhand. "Yeah."

"Fuckin' awesome. Do I want to know what they're listening to this time?"

"I think it was a Strawberry Milk single?" Taehyung hummed a few bars, bouncing on the balls of
his feet like Jin and Namjoon had been downstairs. "Something with a lot of 'OK!' or whatever."

Yoongi groaned and closed his eyes. "Great. That's great. Namjoon's not gonna be able to get that
out of his fuckin' head for years."

JIMIN
November 16

Jimin had a hazy memory of drunkenly pulling Yoongi's shirt off in the bathroom after everyone
had gotten back from Halloween (like he'd fantasized about doing a billion times, in the middle of
the night when he knew Tae was asleep in the bunk overhead) and talking him into the shower
with him and kissing him (even though Jimin had been vomiting less than five minutes prior, oh
god, would he ever stop being embarrassed about it) and an even hazier memory of Yoongi
shoving him off as gently as he could and then… nothing.

He'd woken up the next morning in bed, on top of the quilt, only a pair of underwear and a
screaming hangover to his name.

The memories of the night before had started filtering back in slowly as he stumbled through the
following morning but the truth of it hadn't really hit him until he was wobbling unsteadily down
the stairs (one hand clinging tight to the banister and the other clasped over the top of his head for
fear the top plate of his skull would lose its grip and pop off explosively with the incredible
pressure of his unnaturally swollen brain) and he'd met Yoongi coming the other way. The look on
Yoongi's face had been - it had been so incredibly carefully blank, but there was a tightness around
his eyes, around his mouth, and a voice in the back of Jimin's head had whispered you fucked up.

They'd been awkward and hesitant for a whole two weeks following, treading carefully around
each other - Hoseok hanging around in the background growing increasingly agitated with what
seemed like each passing minute until finally Hoseok lured Jimin into his room with the promise of
help with the choreography for his dance midterm and then had left for just a second, I have to
grab my mp3 player from the basement and then instead shoved Yoongi into the room, slammed
the door, and then apparently shoved a sofa in front of it because neither Yoongi nor Jimin nor both
of them working in tandem were able to budge the damn thing.

So then Yoongi and Jimin stood in the room not talking for twenty of the longest minutes of
Jimin's entire life until Yoongi opened his mouth and hesitantly voiced what both of them had been
thinking for the last week.

"The fuck are we, anyway?"

"I don't know," Jimin stuttered out awkwardly after a second, standing in the middle of the floor
with his hands twisted together behind his back. Hoseok kept his room impeccably tidy, especially
compared to the nuclear wasteland any room shared with Taehyung ended up devolving into within
a few hours of his taking residence, and Jimin took full advantage of the cleanliness in order to
scuff his stocking foot awkwardly on the carpet. "I was really, really drunk," he added, not able to
look Yoongi in the eye. "So… so sorry if I, if I overstepped, I was just drunk, it's not like you have
to—"

"The thing about being drunk," Yoongi interrupted, voice slow and careful and hesitant and
sounding almost like he was quoting something, "isn't that it makes you do things you wouldn't
normally do. It just takes your inhibitions down. You do things you want to do but are too scared."

Jimin screwed his eyes shut and bit his lips together and twisted his fingers so hard his knuckles
popped, a wave of humiliation and self-loathing rolling inexorably over him like a flash flood or a
tsunami or the shock wave from an inescapable blast. "What's that from?"

"Some shit you said," Yoongi mumbled after a second, flopping backward onto his bed, reaching
back to prop himself up on his hands. He shrugged and glared down at himself - he was wearing
some old torn up jeans that showed his knees (the ones that Jimin had a really hard time ignoring)
and he'd skinned one of them about a week ago (on Halloween maybe?), the scab rough and
inconsistent over the skin where it had nearly healed. "You were… you were super fuckin' drunk,
Jimin, seriously I can't believe you drank outta the goddamn bottle. I helped you shower cause I
was worried you were gonna, I dunno, slip and fall and crack your head open in the tub—"

"—and Tae would never forgive you," Jimin said, the memory slotting into the gaps in his head
like a puzzle piece. "Yeah. Th-thanks, for, uh, for helping me out. In the shower. That was really
nice of you."

"You kissed me," Yoongi said then, suddenly.

Jimin blanched. "I was pretty drunk, it's - you don't have to - I didn't mean—"

"I was really fuckin' worried about you," Yoongi interrupted again. He slumped forward, resting
his elbows on his knees and lacing his long pale fingers together and letting his head fall forward
from his shoulders. "I was outta my damn mind, I was so fuckin' worried about you when we
figured out you weren't with us on Halloween, and then you were - you were okay and I just
about… I coulda cried," he stuttered out, shaking his head. "When Namjoon-hyung texted that you
were at home the whole time - I coulda cried I was so fuckin' relieved. And you were so goddamn
drunk and I was so worried, Jimin, seriously, I dunno what I was gonna do but I was - I was so
fuckin' worried about you," he finished stupidly.

"Sorry," Jimin mumbled finally, feeling the blush creep up his chest and his neck and his throat
and his cheeks until he felt like he could just about boil alive in the heat of his own humiliation and
shame. "I didn't mean to—"

"Just—" But then Yoongi stood up, he stumbled to his feet and he closed the distance between
them in three quick steps and reached out and wrapped his hand loosely around Jimin's elbow and
glared down at his fingers curled around Jimin's arm and bit his lip and seemed to steel himself.
"Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean what?"

"You kissed me in the shower," Yoongi said, eyes downcast. "And you said that, that thing about
how bein' drunk just made you do things you woulda done anyway if you weren't so scared, and I
just - I just wanna know if you meant it. When you kissed me."

Oh, god.

This was the moment of truth, wasn't it? He could lie. He could pull his elbow out of Yoongi's grip
and he could lie, he could say nah, he could tear his heart out and leave it on the ground in the
shallow hope that he could keep things loose and easy and comfortable in the house at the expense
of Yoongi's lips and his skin and the way he smiled and how careful he was despite the way he spit
out curses and tangled contractions and rough, affectionate insults, the way he was so gentle and
would take care of everyone when they weren't looking, the way he worked so damn hard that
sometimes Jimin would find him passed out on the kitchen table with one of Tae's compositions
laid out in front of him because he'd worked all night on proofreading it and noting it and
suggesting changes and making sure they'd all get good grades.

He could lie. He could lie. He could lie and save everything that they were and… and ruin
everything that they could be.

"Yeah," Jimin said, his lungs constricting in so tight and so fast and so hard that there was part of
him that wondered if he was dying. "Yeah, I - I meant it. Sorry. If you don't want to, I mean, if
you're not - it's okay, I get it, it's not like—"

"Shut the fuck up, Jimin," Yoongi breathed out.

His hands came up. His face came up. His throat stretched upward. His palms cradled Jimin's
jawline like some fragile, perfect, precious thing and he leaned in and pressed his lips to Jimin's
mouth like he was terrified that if he moved too fast Jimin would disappear in a puff of smoke.

For a second Jimin had wondered hazily if he was dreaming. If this was really happening. If
Yoongi was just playing some horrible, horrible prank on him—

—but instead Yoongi sighed and pulled Jimin's face in closer and parted his lips and licked against
the seam of his mouth and Jimin stopped caring if this was a prank because his head was
completely taken over by the fact that after two years of daydreaming Min Yoongi was kissing
him, he was kissing him in real life, and he couldn't stop himself from breathing out a heavy
gasping moan. Wrapping his hands around Yoongi's waist to pull him in tight. Opening his mouth.
Letting Yoongi in.

On the other side of bedroom door there was the unmistakable sound of Hoseok yelling something
about fucking FINALLY and Yoongi started to pull away to go rip the door off its hinges and no
doubt commit horrible, grisly murder but Jimin hauled him back and kissed him again and - and as
it turned out maybe Yoongi didn't mind Hoseok locking them into the room together that much
after all.

"You're a piece of shit," Yoongi mumbled against Jimin's mouth.

"Yeah," Jimin sighed, hands tightening on Yoongi's waist. "I know."

Chapter End Notes

Apparently Hoseok is gonna be the catalyst for romance in all my fics. Sorry Hobi.
Someday I might write some love for you but for now you just get to be Cupid.
 The One Where Kim Namjoon Ruins Kim Seokjin's Birthday
Chapter Notes

This is the chapter where "slow burn" is taken perhaps slightly more literally than
anyone intended.

JEONGGUK
December 4

Jeon Jeongguk walked down the sidewalk, dazed and confused as only a freshman can feel after
their very first finals experience.

It was Friday (thank god) and his last final had finally come to an end - but for what felt like the
first time in his entire life he had absolutely no clue how well he had done. He'd studied for what
felt like years, had exhausted his extensive collection of flashcards, stayed up all night clutching a
variety of both ginseng- and caffeine-based energy drinks, spent hours and hours and days and days
on the floor of the great room in the Beta Tau Sigma house with every single inhabitant of the
house hovering over him pointing out mistakes and delivering pop quizzes at a moment's notice,
and still when he thought back to his exams he felt only an acute sense of existential dread.

Which was perhaps why, when he looked up, he wasn't exactly sure what he was seeing.

It was a cool, crisp December day, the kind where you get up in the morning and look out the
window and think it looks so nice, I probably don't even need a jacket but when you step out your
front door you discover really quite quickly that the difference between the temperature of the air
and the point at which water freezes is negligible to the point of being almost nonexistent. But
then, of course, the sun is shining like it has something to prove and the leaves have all fallen out
of the trees and nobody's got an umbrella so by the time you've gotten where you're going you're
baking inside your coat, sweat running down your back, and the skin of your face has just about
frozen off.

The sky was blue. The sun was shining. The only cloud Jeon Jeongguk could see was a strange,
billowing plume of clustered fog that seemed to be caught in the trees just a little ways down the
street, as though a tiny cumulonimbus had wandered from the herd and gotten stuck like a lost
lamb in a ditch.

Wait, no. It wasn't a cloud. It was smoke, and as he continued on it dawned on him (slowly but
surely, a gradual sort of realization like the sun coming up on his consciousness) that the noise he'd
been hearing wasn't just post-finals yelling from Greek Row a few blocks over.

When he arrived at the Beta Tau Sigma frat house the front of the house stood quiet. No windows
were open. He couldn't see anyone through the huge bay windows looking into the living room.
Mostly what he could see through the windows was a strange light, flickering back and forth as if
(somehow) there was a fire somewhere inside.

The voices were coming from behind the house, so he closed his eyes. Clenched his hands into
fists. Steeled his nerve, and wandered around the side of the house.
"Okay," Hoseok was saying brightly as Jeongguk rounded the corner. "You know what, this could
be a lot worse."

They were standing in a cluster in the backyard, Jin in the middle, Yoongi at his left arm holding
onto his elbow with a grim expression on his face, Jimin and Taehyung hovering nervously on his
right, Hoseok standing just in front with his hands on his hips and a sunny, brittle expression.
Namjoon hung back a little, looking as though he wasn't sure exactly whether he wanted to start
yelling or just settle for throwing up.

Jin scrubbed his hands over his face. "How?! How could this possibly, possibly be worse?!"

"Look," Namjoon stuttered, "I said I was sorry, it's not like—"

"Hyung." Jimin laid a hand on Namjoon's arm. "Let's cool it with the self-righteousness, all right?
It might not be the right time."

"I'm not being self-righteous—"

"Uh, hey," Jeongguk said, raising a hand awkwardly. "Hi guys."

"You lit!" Jin yelled, hands going almost-but-not-quite for Namjoon's throat. "My kitchen! On!
Actual! Fire!!"

"And you didn't even get us any marshmallows," Taehyung said mournfully, wrapping his arms
around himself to keep warm.

"It is my birthday," Jin said. "And you lit my kitchen on fire."

They all stood forlornly on the lawn, watching the smoke billow out of the kitchen window.
Somewhere there was an unfortunate popping noise and a burst of flames puffed out for half a
second, searing the siding black. Somewhere in the distance a siren sounded, growing ever closer
with each passing minute.

Hoseok laid a hand companionably on Namjoon's shoulder. "Hyung," he said, "for the sake of
world peace… never ever try to cook again."

JIN
December 2

Kim Seokjin sat at one of the long wooden tables in the quiet reading room on the very topmost
floor of the graduate library, head in his hands, highlighter tucked between the first and middle
fingers of his right hand, massive textbook open in front of him. There were printed handouts
scattered around him on the table's surface like a halo, layered thick the closer they were to him
and thinning progressively as they descended in relative importance. Tomorrow he had to stand in
front of a panel and do a practice defense on the rough draft of his dissertation and he was focused.
Cool-headed. Collected. Relaxed.

"Will you stop?" he bit out, reaching out and slamming his hand down on Namjoon's wrist on the
other side of the table. "What are you even doing?"

Namjoon jumped and jerked his hand back. "What the hell, man?"
"You've been tapping something in 4/4 time for the past five minutes," Jin hissed at him. "This is
supposed to be the quiet reading room. Emphasis on the 'quiet,' Namjoon."

"I'm being quiet!" Namjoon shoved the headphones down to hang around his neck. "Tapping is
quiet. At least I wasn't singing."

"Oh please god," Jin muttered under his breath. "Please god don't sing." Namjoon mumbled
something incomprehensible under his breath. "What?"

"I said I'm not gonna sing, Jin, shit."

"Stop swearing in the reading room. This is a place of learning."

"I'm sure learning how much of a dick you can be when you're stressed out."

Jin looked up at Namjoon, who flinched backward and went slightly green around the edges.
"Excuse me?"

"J-Jin," Namjoon stammered out, hands going up, palms out in a defensively placating motion,
"look, I didn't mean it, I'm just really, it's, I mean my dissertation is - it's not - and my advisor—"

"I'm a dick?"

"Dicks are great, Jin," Namjoon hissed in a panicked tone, leaning over the table toward him.
"Like seriously holy shit my dick is like the best thing in my entire life, um, except for you? No,
no, that sounds terrible—" He waved one hand desperately, shaking his head. "—but my point is,
my point - it was a compliment. Also I am really really sorry, you have no idea how sorry I am Jin.
I'm so sorry. I'm so stressed out like you have no idea. I didn't know what I was saying. I was
drunk. I was asleep. I was drunk and asleep. And dead. I was younger then? Hyung, please—"

"God," Jin groaned, leaning back in his chair. "Just stop, all right? You're forgiven." He shot
Namjoon a glare over the table, trying and failing to keep a smile off his face. "Did you seriously
just try to get out of trouble by talking about how much you love penis? Because if so I'm sure
there are several eligible young bachelors who would be more than happy to jump on—"

"Oh my god." Namjoon slumped over onto the table and buried his head in his arms. "It was the
heat of the moment, Jin. Please don't ruin my entire life. I haven't had sex with a woman in eight
months fourteen days six hours and—" He pulled his cell phone toward him. "—thirty-two
minutes, and if it gets around that I might not be into women—"

"You know it down to the minute? That's disgusting, Namjoon."

"You only say that because you have to beat women off with a stick," Namjoon sighed, propping
up his chin in one hand. "What's it like being beautiful, Jin?"

"Fantastic," Jin replied, bending back down over his textbook. "Literally better than you could
ever, ever imagine."

"Thanks for rubbing it in."

"What can I say? I'm a dick."

"I'm never living that down, am I?"

"Nope."
"Okay," Namjoon said quickly, sweeping his hands out wide in a gesture of sudden revelation.
"Okay, I have an idea. Friday's your birthday."

Jin paused halfway through turning a page and glanced up at him warily. Namjoon had that look on
his face, that spark in his eye that always ended up turning into something that Jin could never
have even hoped to predict. "Yes. Yes?"

"Aaand finals will be over," Namjoon said. He slumped a little. "We could have a party."

"A finals party."

"A birthday party," Namjoon corrected. "Also finals. That's just a bonus. At least your birthday
isn't on the first day of finals this year. Man, remember that one time when—"

Jin rolled his eyes and tried not to let the smile show on his face. "I don't really do birthday parties,
Namjoon."

"Okay, okay. A finals party. Where we have seaweed soup."

"Namjoon."

"Come on, Jin."

When Jin looked up Namjoon was - he was grinning at him hopefully, eyebrows up, teeth showing,
and that dimple… Namjoon tried to act like a grown up most of the time (a dad, came Taehyung's
influence on his thought processes whispering in the back of his head) but sometimes he was just
such a little kid that Jin had a hard time denying him anything. Maybe it was just that it took him
by surprise, the way Namjoon would turn off and on like a light switch. He'd be stonefaced one
minute and flustered a minute later and then half a second away from aegyo the next. Maybe it was
just that Jin had a weakness for being wheedled. Maybe it was just that Namjoon was Namjoon,
and Jin had a hard time denying Namjoon anything.

"Okay," he said eventually. "But I'm making the seaweed soup—"

"Sure," Namjoon conceded, leaning back triumphantly in his chair.

"—and you're going to help me," Jin finished smoothly.

Namjoon's squawked protest was absolutely in no way under the maximum decibel limit for the
quiet reading room and they ended up getting kicked out anyway.

JIN
December 4

The problem with Kim Namjoon, (Jin thought furiously to himself), was that he was just so smart.

Jin had grown up with mediocre grades - certainly not bad by any means, but not particularly
noteworthy either. He did his homework diligently and studied diligently and attended class
diligently and… and gosh darn it he'd worked for every single B on his report card. Eventually
(after years of diligence) the rest of him caught up to the hard work and the B's started turning into
B+'s, and then the B+'s started turning into A-'s, and then those A-'s in turn started slowly flipping
over to A's.
When he graduated high school he did so among the five top ranked students in his class and it was
because he'd worked for it. He knew he'd worked for it. He was proud of having worked for it, of
having had to work for it and still managing to come out (almost) on top.

Kim Namjoon, on the other hand, didn't have to work at all. He just got things. He picked up
almost everything like it was made for him, like he'd been made to play the clarinet, or to do
calculus, or to transcribe music by ear on the first try, or to speak every language he tried with an
accent that was practically native. Jin didn't know if Namjoon had ever had to work for a single A
in his entire life. He just put in the minimum required amount of effort and it, whatever it was, just
landed in his lap like it had been meant for him.

Which was absolutely maddening on its own, of course, but what was worse was when Kim
Namjoon came face to face with the rare skill that didn't come naturally to him.

The problem with Kim Namjoon was that he'd never had to work for what he knew. He'd grown up
thinking that the way you learned things was by picking them up and doing them because, really,
was this supposed to be hard? And if the first try didn't work, and the second try didn't work, then
- it was impossible, the end. He didn't know how to keep trying. Practice made Perfect, sure, but
Practice had never made Perfect for Kim Namjoon because for Kim Namjoon Perfect had always
made Perfect. "Practice" was something that happened to other people.

"No," Jin said for what felt like the millionth time, "turn it over. I said over. Over. So that it's flat
side down on the cutting board. Namjoon, seriously—"

"But it'll get all juicy and weird," Namjoon muttered sullenly under his breath.

"Put the flat side down or you'll cut all your fingers off. I don't care if it gets juicy. It's an onion. It
is inherently juicy."

Namjoon closed his mouth and screwed his eyes shut and held his breath for a second. "Wow,
okay, this one is super fucking juicy, Jin. And potent. Christ. My eyes will never be dry again."

Jin closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Cursed whatever flash of insanity had come over him the
day before that had prompted him to rope Namjoon into helping him make dinner. (Of all the
things he could have gotten Namjoon to do. There were so many things, and he'd chosen cooking?
Cooking. Way to go, Kim Seokjin.) "Look, do you want to switch? I'm just rinsing the rice."

A moment of silence as Namjoon opened one eye to peer down into the sink next to him. "I don't
know if that would be safer, per se…"

Jin glared down at the metal pot full of rice and water in his hands. "Good point. You'd dump it all
down the drain again. Just hurry up with the onion, all right? No, not like - I said turn it over,
Namjoon. Over. Yes, good, now—"

If he was the swearing kind he'd be swearing then, but he wasn't, so he didn't. Instead he just
plunked the pot down on the bottom of the metal sink and dried his hands on his apron (Jimin and
Taehyung had gotten it for him for his birthday last year, it was bright pink and read COOKING
MAMA in huge red letters over his chest so obviously Jin loved it desperately) and looped one arm
around to rest his left hand easily over Namjoon's, folding Namjoon's fingers in and under his palm
where he held the onion to the cutting board. "It takes a little getting used to, but the safest way is
to curl your fingers in like this and kind of… hold the onion down firm with your fingertips. See?
You're less likely to become an amputee this way."

"Y-yeah," Namjoon stuttered, tensing up. He clenched his right hand on the knife handle with a
white-knuckled grip. "Okay."

Jin laughed despite himself. He was still irritated (he'd woken up irritated, he'd gotten out of bed
irritated, he'd wandered downstairs and drunk his tea and eaten his breakfast irritated) but the way
Namjoon's neck went pink along his collar never failed to get to him. The infamous Kim Namjoon,
destroyer of academic records, and just being reprimanded on a cooking task was enough to make
him blush like an awkward kid before prom. "Okay," Jin echoed back, and moved away again,
elbowing Namjoon good-naturedly in the side as he went. "I'm about done here, finish that up
while I start on the beef and seaweed, all right?"

"No offense, but getting me to help with this was a terrible idea. I'm going to burn the whole house
down, Jin."

"It's not like I'm letting you near the stove." Jin flipped on the burner and glared insistently at the
coil until it started glowing a gentle red. "You're just cutting onions."

"With a knife." Namjoon gestured a little too wildly with the blade in his hand. "You said I wasn't
allowed to use knives anymore after that time during Spring term when—"

"It's just onions," Jin interrupted, grabbing a wide pot from over the stove. He stuck it on the
burner and opened a cabinet, rummaging around for a second before pulling out a large glass bottle.
"And I'm right here watching you. I promise to warn you if I see you starting any fires."

Namjoon watched him tip a measure of oil into the pan. "What is that?"

"Sesame oil," Jin replied promptly. "Sesame oil is what decides the final taste of all foods." He
grabbed a bowl full of chopped beef from next to the sink and used to to gesture imperiously.
"Namjoon! What is it that decides the taste?"

"Sesame oil," Namjoon echoed dutifully.

Jin dumped the beef unceremoniously into the pan (the oil spitting and hissing), clonked the bowl
down on the counter, and reached out to pat Namjoon sweetly on the cheek. "Ten points. Finish
chopping the onions."

"Yes, mom."

The pat changed to a flick. "Stop that. I'm not your mother."

"Ow! Ow, Jin, stop—" Namjoon ducked. "I have a knife!"

"Now you're threatening me? On my birthday?"

"No! It was just a warning, I don't want to cut either of - fuck, Jin, seriously—"

"Stop messing around," Jin said, relenting finally and turning back to the stove. "Finish up those
onions."

"Oh right like it's my fault they're not all chopped yet—"

"Joonie."

"Sorry. I'm doing it."

Making seaweed soup always kind of reminded Jin of home in a way, the smell of the meat searing
in the heat, the way the seaweed spat and hissed when you dumped it into the pan and sauteed
everything together. His mother used to make seaweed soup for his birthday every year when he
was a kid and so it was a funny combination of regular old birthday nostalgia and christmas -
seaweed soup meant it was his birthday but it also meant christmas just around the corner, and
when the seaweed hissed and spat against the hot stainless steel Jin could feel that old familiar
wash of nostalgia rolling over him.

Sure, he was in another kitchen now. Sure, he was the one making the soup (for himself, for his
own birthday - god forbid his mother ever found out) and sure, sure, the person at his side was
Kim Namjoon, swearing quietly and chopping onions in the worst possible way. But it was
nostalgic and comfortable and easy and for a second the only thing Jin wanted was to have his life
look like this (smell like this, feel like this, taste like this) forever.

"Scoot over," he said, nudging Namjoon gently out of the way with his elbow. "I have to get the
water. Start the rice, would you?"

"But the onion—"

Jin spared a glance at the cutting board as he hefted the pot of rice water out of the sink. "It's good
enough. Scoop it into the bowl I had the seaweed in, we can reuse the dish. It'll add flavor to the
rice later."

The rice water splashed in, throwing up a billowing cloud of steam. Jin set the pot down on the
counter next to the sink and brushed the damp from his hands onto the apron, peering into the soup
pot on the stove. A little salt, a little garlic, a little soy sauce—

He was setting the soy sauce back down on the counter top when his phone started buzzing in his
pocket, vibrating rhythmically and insistently against his leg. "Watch the pot," Jin said, pulling the
phone out of his pocket. "Just tell me when it starts to boil, all right?"

Namjoon's eyes flickered back and forth between Jin and the pot, his face anxious and drawn. "Are
you sure?"

"You're just watching it," Jin said, trying to keep his voice soothing as he stepped away and
glanced down at the caller ID on his phone, flipping it open and holding it to his ear. "Mom!"

NAMJOON

Namjoon leaned against the counter by the sink, arms crossed over his chest, and watched the pot
like he was trying to win a staring contest. Jin had told him to watch the pot so god help him, this
pot was gonna be the most watched fuckin' pot in the goddamn universe. He could fuck up
cooking, he could fuck up driving, he could cut an onion upside down and nearly cut all his fingers
off, but hell if he wasn't gonna watch this damn pot.

The electric heating element under the pot renewed its red glow after the introduction of the cool
rice water had sucked the heat out of it and the surface of the seaweed soup began steaming
sweetly as he listened to the easy back and forth of Jin on the other side of the kitchen, talking to
his mother on the phone. Namjoon wasn't really listening to the words - he'd heard enough
conversations between Jin and his mother to know how it was going, to know that she was fawning
over him and he was self-consciously thanking her and trying to steer the question onto less
embarrassing topics.
Jin had a funny relationship with his parents - or maybe it was just funny to Namjoon, who didn't
have much of a relationship with his parents. (Not strained, necessarily, just… not much of one.)
Jin had different voices he used in different situations, affects he put on and took off like different
jackets. When he was bossing around the kids his voice went low and empty to echo through the
house. When he was wheedling Namjoon for something his voice would go just a bit high, just a
little more nasal and sing-song. When he was talking to his mother his voice would go soft and
tender and gentle and when she was sad he would call her dear and ask her if he could do anything.

Namjoon closed his eyes for just a second, listening to the gentle back-and-forth swing of Jin
talking to his mother. Probably she was talking about his birthday, or christmas, or how proud she
was. About a recipe she'd found, maybe, one that she wanted Jin to try. Maybe she was asking
about the house. Maybe she was asking about Jin's dissertation. Maybe she was asking about
Namjoon.

A splash of hot water hit the bare skin of his forearm at the exact same time as Jin's voice changed,
and Namjoon opened his eyes.

JIN

"You're going to Hawaii?" Jin said into the phone. "For Christmas? Just you and Dad?"

"It's our thirtieth anniversary," came his mother's voice out of the speaker. "We decided to do
something nice, just the two of us."

Namjoon's voice, nervous and uncertain. "Um, Jin…"

"Namjoon, I'm on the phone, give me just a second all right?"

"It's really boiling a lot, Jin."

"So turn it down a little! Mom, that's great, but I thought we were going to—"

He felt it before he heard it. Something like a gentle, warm breath, pressing against the back of his
neck and his shoulders and the backs of his legs. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck sizzle and
curl just a little bit. A smooth, rolling wave of heat. And then the noise:

FOOMF
like a speaker popping, or a bowling ball falling into a swimming pool filled with cotton wool, or
maybe (just maybe) the ancient electric cook top in the Beta Tau Sigma frat house going up in a
massive fire ball.

"Jesus christ," Namjoon yelped, jumping back from the flames.

"MomIhavetogomykitchenisliterallyonfire," Jin gasped into the phone, scrambling for the End Call
button while at the same time bolting forward toward the flames, hand outstretched. He grabbed
hold of the back of Namjoon's collar and jerked him back just as the cook top cracked and belched
out another huge gasp of fire. He could feel the white heat of it on the skin of his face and god,
Namjoon had been so much closer—

"I didn't mean to do that," Namjoon choked out, his voice unnaturally high. (Maybe it was the
shock, maybe it was the heat - but then again maybe it was his collar, pulled taut around his
windpipe by Jin's fist at the nape of his neck.) "I swear to fucking god Jin I didn't mean to—"

"Shut up," Jin sputtered. The kitchen was filling up with smoke and Namjoon's face was pink and
getting pinker still and Jin's phone was buzzing in his pocket where he'd stuffed it frantically and
Namjoon was taller than him so he was already breathing smoke and obviously in shock and
breathing hard and what if he inhaled too much? He was a musician, he couldn't lose his voice.
"Shut up!" He pulled Namjoon around bodily and pulled the fabric of his t-shirt up over his nose
and mouth. "There's too much smoke, if you keep breathing it—"

Overhead the smoke alarm started screaming. The stupid thing went off when the kettle let off too
much steam and it took a whole minute to go off when there was an actual fire? (Jin tucked away a
mental note to call their landlord and leave a screaming fit in his voicemail. Or, okay, maybe not a
screaming fit if he could manage to calm down enough, but just right then he wasn't sure he'd ever
be calm ever ever again.)

"Get Yoongi and Jimin out of the house and call the fire department," Jin yelled over the clash and
scream of it, pulling his t-shirt up over his face with one hand and shoving Namjoon back with the
other hand on his chest. "I'll get Tae and Hoseok from the basement!" Namjoon just stared at him
for half a second, so he shoved him again, harder this time. "Joonie! Go!"

JIMIN

"You hear that?" Yoongi said, going still and cocking his head to one side curiously.

Jimin, for his part, took advantage of Yoongi's jaw inclining upward to dip down and press his lips
to Yoongi's throat. "It's prolly just somebody's phone," he mumbled against skin, unable to keep the
satoori from stuttering out of him.

Jimin still only had a very vague recollection of what had happened after Halloween but mostly
what he knew for sure (the sure knowledge hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach like a coal,
rolling in his gut like a medieval torture technique) was that he'd made an absolute fool of himself
after everyone had gotten back to the house and found him drunk off his head under the dining
room table, head pillowed on a recently-emptied bottle of tequila and singing an old trot song about
living for a hundred years that Tae had taught him.

When he'd woken up the next morning, laying on top of the quilt with only his bright red
underwear and a pounding headache, he'd known something was off and it had taken a week for
Hoseok to get sick of everything and force Jimin and Yoongi to just talk to each other once and for
all.

Of course that had been three weeks ago and now they were… they were something else. They
were something a little less distant but no less careful: getting up early to sneak down to the living
room and drink tea on the couch together in silence; texting each other until past midnight; Jimin
sending Yoongi increasingly risque selfies from the dance studio (and then from the changing
room, and then a few sneakily-taken selfies from the shower room when he knew the entire studio
was empty except for him); Yoongi sending Jimin tersely-worded snapchats admonishing him for
not paying attention to his studies; somehow ending up in Yoongi's room when Tae was off doing
who-knew-what and Hoseok was in the basement working on something and sitting on Yoongi's
bed listening to music and awkwardly creeping closer together until finally they were tangled up in
near-silence, lips and skin and stuttered breath in the dim light of late autumn filtering in through
the curtains as the sun set earlier and earlier and earlier every day.
They were tangled up like that - Jimin straddling Yoongi's hips, Yoongi leaning back against a pile
of pillows (from his own bed and from Hoseok's that he'd stolen shamelessly to prop himself up),
Yoongi's hands sneaking cautiously under the hem of Jimin's t-shirt, Jimin's lips exploring the
curves and angles of Yoongi's throat and his jawline and his lips - when Yoongi went still and
cocked his head curiously to one side and said, "you hear that?"

"It's prolly just somebody's phone," Jimin breathed against his skin, nosing at the place just under
Yoongi's earlobe where his jaw met his throat, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Yoongi's jugular.
"Ignore it."

"Nah," Yoongi stuttered out, melting a little under Jimin's attention even as he weakly tried to
shove him back a little so he could sit up, "nah, it - it sounds like the fire alarm?"

"The fire alarm goes off every time somebody makes tea." Jimin pushed him back down, one hand
on each thin shoulder. He was stronger than Yoongi, a lot stronger, and he tried not to take
advantage of it most of the time - but right now Yoongi was being difficult and all Jimin wanted
him to do was lie back and let him kiss the hell out of him. He slipped a hand under Yoongi's shirt,
tugging it up with his wrist as he brushed careful fingers up Yoongi's ribcage and over his chest
and rolling cautiously over one of his nipples. "Even if it is the fire alarm it's probably just Jin-
hyung's seaweed soup steaming a little too much."

"Yeah," Yoongi mumbled against Jimin's mouth, the sound slipping over Jimin's tongue like a
salve as Yoongi loosened again under his hand. "Yeah, it's prolly just—"

But then there was a sudden thumping, increasing in volume like someone falling up the stairs. A
crash, like someone tripping over the last step and falling onto the floor. A scrambling series of
frantic thuds, and then—

The door slammed open and Namjoon tumbled over the threshold - face pink and hair looking a
little scorched and a smear of something that looked almost like soot over one cheekbone. "Guys,
we have to get out of the house, the stove just - holy jesus," he squeaked out, backpedaling
desperately.

"Hyung!" Jimin jerked backward off of Yoongi's lap, propelled backward by the unstoppable force
of his own embarrassment. "Hyung haven't you ever heard of knocking—"

"Oh, god," Namjoon stuttered, spinning around in the doorway to face back out into the hall, the
back of his neck and the tips of his ears going even pinker (if such a thing were possible). "Oh god
I am really fucking sorry holy shit jesus I didn't, wow, okay, cool cool cool that's - that's great—"

"Stop freaking the fuck out," Yoongi growled, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress.
"What the hell's goin' on?"

"The stove blew up," Namjoon said weakly, voice muffled, slumping against the door jamb with
his face in his hands. "I blew up the stove on Jin's birthday."

"Well," Yoongi said calmly. "Shit."

JIN

"Okay," Hoseok was saying brightly. "You know what, this could be a lot worse."
Jin scrubbed his hands over his face. Everything was ruined it was ruined how on earth could
Hoseok possibly think this could be worse? "How?! How could this possibly, possibly be worse?!"

"Look," Namjoon stuttered from somewhere behind him, "I said I was sorry, it's not like -"

"Hyung." Jimin's voice, gentle and calm and just a tiny bit tense. "Let's cool it with the self-
righteousness, all right? It might not be the right time."

"I'm not being self-righteous—"

("Uh, hey," Jeongguk said, raising a hand. He was standing at the corner of the house, wide eyes
flickering back and forth between the fire pouring out of the kitchen window and the cluster of
people on the back lawn. "Hi guys."

"Hey Jeongguk," Hoseok said, giving him a little wave. "Welcome back! How were your finals?")

"You lit!" Jin was yelling, he was yelling, he never ever yelled but Namjoon was - he was being
himself and so Jin spun on a heel and reached out for him, hands going almost-but-not-quite for
Namjoon's throat and settling for shaking him by the shoulders instead. "My kitchen! On! Actual!
Fire!!"

("And you didn't even get us any marshmallows," Taehyung was saying, because of course that
would be what he focused on.)

"It is my birthday," Jin said, feeling stupid, feeling small, feeling five years old as he sagged a
little, hands tightening over Namjoon's shoulders."And you lit my kitchen on fire."

Somewhere there was an unfortunate popping noise and a burst of flames belched out for half a
second, searing the siding black. Somewhere in the distance a siren sounded, growing ever closer
with each passing minute. Namjoon swallowed, and - and lifted his hands, patting Jin awkwardly
on his upper arms.

"Hyung," Hoseok said, laying a hand on Namjoon's shoulder, "for the sake of world peace… never
ever try to cook again."

"Tell you what," Jeongguk said dazedly, reaching into his pocket. "How about I order us some
pizza."

"Kimchi pizza," Taehyung said.

"No," Jin mumbled into Namjoon's chest. "No kimchi pizza. Not ever."

"No kimchi pizza," Namjoon said weakly, raising his voice a little to act as Jin's microphone.. "No
more kimchi pizza at Beta Tau Sigma."
 The One Where Kim Seokjin Has A Merry Christmas Anyway
Chapter Notes

This chapter is 12,000 words of pure christmas-y namjin slow burn.

Every text exchange is at a semi-random date. Some of them are carefully chosen, but
just know that these don't necessarily happen chronologically and it'll all be okay.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

NAMJOON
Christmas Eve , late afternoon

In Kim Namjoon's bedroom on the third floor of the Beta Tau Sigma frat house, three things
happened so quickly one after the other that they may as well have happened simultaneously.

The first thing that happened was his overhead light flickering for just a second - just a brief flash
of almost-darkness before the light bulb coughed back to life and seemed to remember what it was
supposed to be doing. Namjoon glanced up (like you do) and wondered briefly whether he'd just
blinked, whether he'd just been imagining things, whether perhaps his lack of sleep and intent focus
and the bags and bags and bags of chemical-coated microwave popcorn he'd consumed over the
past few weeks were finally combining into some kind of dangerous neurotoxin and this was just
the first of many signs of early-onset dementia.

He also wondered (even more briefly) whether he should save the track he'd been working on for
the last hour.

The second thing that happened was the overhead light flickering again - he found himself
probably more relieved than he should have been that the neurotoxin thing was apparently a no-go
- before ultimately giving up and blinking out. His computer turned off. His progress disappeared.
The hard drive ground to a halt.

The third thing that happened was the scream, floating up through the house. For half a second
Namjoon almost entertained the idea that he'd made the sound (it felt like he should be making
some kind of sound, anyway - all of his progress shot to shit and his computer completely dead and
his room growing colder and colder by the second) but the half second passed and the realization
hit him that no, no, he hadn't made any noise at all (except perhaps a weak cough of desperation in
the back of his throat) and that he and Jin were the only two people in the house.

Jin? Fuck, Jin!

Kim Namjoon shot upward, spun toward the door, very nearly choked himself to death on the cord
of his headphones, and spent a frantic three seconds disentangling himself desperately before
stepping forward and promptly tripping over a laundry basket in the dark and falling flat on his
face on the floor.

It took him a truly embarrassing amount of time to gather himself and regain his bearings enough to
get up off the floor, open the door to his bedroom, skitter across the short length of hallway to the
stairs, bolt down the steps in such a frantic hurry to reach the source of the scream that he almost
didn't care how damn dark it was until he tripped on the bottom landing and only just barely caught
himself before slamming face first into the wall. The house was silent, now - no further screaming,
no footsteps, no generalized unfocused hum of a fully-occupied house. Just quiet. And darkness.
And Kim Namjoon, racing down the center corridor back into the kitchen.

When he stepped over the threshold into the kitchen (hand clutching the door jamb for support,
chest heaving) Jin was on his knees by the counter, head bent, face in his hands, broad shoulders
tense and just barely shaking.

"Jin," Namjoon choked out, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. "Jin, are you okay?"

Jin looked up at him, eyes just slightly wild. "No," he whispered. "No, I'm not okay."

JIN
Two Weeks Ago

When Kim Seokjin woke up the world was quiet.

It was an unnatural kind of quiet, the kind of quiet where everything seems muffled slightly as if
covered in a blanket. There was no distant road noise, no birds making a morning racket, no doors
slamming or people yelling outside like there always always always seemed to be this close to
campus. Light glowed in through the curtains and it just didn't look quite right.

Somewhere in the house there was a thump. The empty water glass on his bedside table rattled
against his alarm clock. And then someone yelled something (Tae, from the pitch of it) and there
was a moment of excited screaming accompanied by a quickly ascending thudding noise as
multiple sets of feet dashed up the stairs.

Jin stuck his head under his pillow and prayed fervently that he had remembered to lock his
bedroom door the night before.

A body slammed into a wall somewhere outside his bedroom door, then slapped the surface
repeatedly. Jimin's voice filtered through the wood, shouting something about GET UP GET UP
GET UP YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENED and Jin knew that they'd gone to Namjoon's
room first, which meant that he had at least—

The door to the shared bathroom opened and Namjoon staggered over the threshold, his eyes still
closed and puffy with sleep. He was wearing nothing except for a pair of black boxer briefs and a
sleeveless undershirt and his hair was sticking straight up on one side and he had bags under his
eyes and when he was one foot away from Jin's bed he fell to his knees, slumped forward, and
landed face down on the mattress.

"It snowed," Namjoon mumbled into the sheet. "Just so you know."

Jin sat up and stretched and yawned and groaned. "At least it happened after finals."

"Mmhmm."
"Yah. Joonie." Jin poked Namjoon in the shoulder. "Don't tell me you fell back asleep already."

"Your bed is warm." Namjoon sat upright and opened one eye to look at him. "Hey. Hyung. Scoot
over."

Jin flopped back down and stretched his arms and legs out in his best starfish impression. "No. NO.
There's no room."

"Your bed is warmer than my bed," Namjoon argued, standing up and shoving him over. "I'm tired
and cold. Listen to your president. Show some respect."

"You're not my president. I didn't vote for you. I'm older than you, and anyway - hey! Namjoon!
Don't pinch me!" Jin rolled over and huddled sleepily against the wall. "Fine. You're the worst."

The bed creaked as Namjoon settled in under the quilt. "I'm the best."

"Oh my god your hands are absolutely freezing."

"Thus my need to be in a bed. Jesus, hyung - you're a goddamn furnace, you know that?"

"Yes! I am a furnace! I am my own personal furnace and I stay that way by not allowing icicles to
put their hands on me. No! Do not! The inside of my shirt is my own private business! Kim
Namjoon I swear on all that's holy—"

Namjoon wriggled in close against him, knees tucking up to curve around the arch of Jin's body.
"You never swear. I've hardly ever heard you swear. You're like a loving mother, taking care of her
children. Always careful to be a good role model."

"I hate you," Jin moaned.

"Merry christmas," Namjoon sighed against the back of Jin's neck.

"Yeah," Jin sighed back, pressing his face into his pillow. "Whatever."

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:47, Dec 12
hey man i need some help

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 15:47, Dec 12
What the duck do you want

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:48, Dec 12
Jin's parents are going to Hawaii for christmas

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 15:50, Dec 12
Ok

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 15:50, Dec 12
What does that have to do with me

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:51, Dec 12
so he's staying at the house

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 15:52, Dec 12
Yeah I'm still not getting what this has to do with me

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 15:52, Dec 12
Do you need me to buy you condoms or something

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 15:53, Dec 12
Can't you buy your own good dam condoms

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:54, Dec 12
when are you going to add swearing to your phone's dictionary

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:54, Dec 12
it's really distracting

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 15:55, Dec 12
Duck you too, batch

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:56, Dec 12
jesus christ, never mind

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:56, Dec 12
forget i said anything

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 15:57, Dec 12
No, it's cool

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 15:57, Dec 12
Seriously though, I don't know what you actually need from me here

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:59, Dec 12
 he's bummed out, man

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:59, Dec 12
like super bummed out

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 15:59, Dec 12
like i don't know if i've seen him this bummed out before

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:01, Dec 12
Yeah? He seems fine to me

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:02, Dec 12
trust me. he's not.

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:03, Dec 12
Whatever. He's your husband, man.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:03, Dec 12
be serious for five goddamn seconds here Yoongi

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:04, Dec 12
i always stay at the house for christmas and it's never a big deal but Jin ALWAYS goes home

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:05, Dec 12
i wanna like make it special or whatever

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:05, Dec 12
make it actually feel like christmas

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:08, Dec 12
You're disgusting.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:09, Dec 12
how the fuck is that disgusting

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:09, Dec 12
i'm worried about my friend's emotional statethat's like the exact opposite of disgusting

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:10, Dec 12
 i'm a goddamn hero

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:10, Dec 12
i should be canonized

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:11, Dec 12
My idea also involves a cannon

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:14, Dec 12
why the fuck did i think texting you about this would be a good idea

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:15, Dec 12
It's because I'm a sensitive soul who understands Jin's love of christmas on a deep, primal level

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:15, Dec 12
… really?

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:16, Dec 12
Duck no.

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:16, Dec 12
Look hyung

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:16, Dec 12
don't call me hyung, i'm serious

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:16, Dec 12
If you want to make it christmas then you have to at least get a tree

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:16, Dec 12
And like… lights

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:16, Dec 12
Light that shut up to heck and back

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 16:17, Dec 12
the next time i get my hands on your phone i'm putting swear words in the dictionary

From: Min Yoongi

Sent: 16:18, Dec 12
Don't touch my ducking phone

JIN
December 13

"Did you brush your teeth?" Jin was saying in the entryway.

"Yes," Jimin and Taehyung chorused back.

"Did you remember to pack a snack?" Jin sidestepped as Yoongi pushed past him into the
entryway. "Yoongi, how about you? Teeth brushed? Snack packed?"

"Yes, mom," Yoongi sighed, setting his suitcase down on the floor so he could pull on his boots
and tug the massive black scarf Jin had knitted him last year off the hook on the wall. "Teeth
brushed. Snack packed."

"Jimin? Tae?"

Taehyung grinned wolfishly and opened up his massive coat like a flasher, revealing an interior
layered thickly with candy and bags of chips. "Don't worry, hyung," he said sneakily, closing his
coat again and looping an arm through Jimin's elbow. "I got us totally covered."

Jin rolled his eyes, crossing his arms tight over his chest to guard against the cold. His socks
weren't thick enough to stand on the freezing tile for long, but - his eyes narrowed. "Wait. Where's
Hoseok?"

Yoongi shrugged - or something like it, anyway, it was hard to tell under the multiple layers of
sweaters and coat and scarf that he'd wrapped around himself to guard against the cold. "Iunno," he
mumbled, voice muffled under wool. "Said he was gonna help Namjoon with something."

Jin muttered something under his breath and stepped back up into the house to start up the stairs.
"Hoseok! Hurry up! You're going to miss the train if you're not down here in—" But then instead
the front door opened and he skidded around, pivoting unsteadily to thump back down, stopping in
the corridor with his mouth open.

The front door had opened and Hoseok was on the other side - cheeks pink and eyes shining and
hat dusted with snow and his gloves coated with dirt and mud and ice - clutching awkwardly onto
the top of one of the most ridiculously warped christmas trees Jin had ever seen in his entire life.
"You'll never guess," Hoseok chirped brightly, stomping over the threshold in his horrible muddy
boots, "what Namjoon-hyung and I had to do to get this thing."

"Don't call me hyung," came Namjoon's voice from somewhere at the other end of the brambled
mass of pine branches. "I'm serious, Hoseok."

"He doesn't like it when you call him hyung," Jin said weakly, stepping backward to make room as
Hoseok toed out of his boots and shuffled up into the house, shedding needles and snowflakes and
chunks of ice with every step. "What…?"

"It's a goddamn christmas tree," Yoongi said, yanking the scarf away from his mouth and shooting
an incredulous glare out the front door in what Jin could only assume was Namjoon's direction.
"Hoseok and Namjoon-hyung went out and got a goddamn christmas tree."

"Do not," Namjoon growled, finally shoving his way through the front door with the bottom half of
the tree, simultaneously looking twice as disgusting and half as pleased as Hoseok did, "call me
hyung. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Jin opened his mouth. Closed his mouth. Opened it again. "I suppose it's useless asking you not to
make a mess."

"Haven't you ever gotten a christmas tree, hyung?" That was Taehyung, scooting out of his boots
again in his excitement and bouncing delightedly after Namjoon and Hoseok as they wrestled the
tree into the living room, past the couch, leaned it up in the bay window where it started slowly
thawing in the heat of the house - dripping freshly-melted snow all over the hardwood. "The mess
is part of it."

"I'll clean it up," Namjoon groaned, stretching hugely to work out the crick in his back. "Let me
just set this damn thing up."

Hoseok lit up. "I'll—"

"No," Jin cut in quickly, striding forward and grabbing Hoseok's elbow. "You've pushed it to the
last minute. You're going to miss your train if you don't get going. Put your shoes back on, Tae—"
He glanced up. "Tae, get your hands out of the tree! It's not a toy!"

"I think there's a nest in here," Taehyung said, half-buried in the branches. "Where'd you get this
tree, anyway?"

Hoseok was ramming his feet back in his boots in the entryway, swinging the door open again,
stepping over the threshold. "Where else?" he called back brightly over his shoulder. "The Tau
Delta grounds."

The door slammed shut and Jin spun on his heel to fix Namjoon with a dangerous glare.
"Namjoon," he said, voice cold. "Did you go steal a tree from the Tau Deltas?"

"That's our cue!" Jimin chirped brightly, the look on his face shiny and slightly brittle. "Tae! Hurry
the hell up!"

"It's a nest," Taehyung was insisting, even as Jimin was lacing his boots up for him and shoving his
hat over his head. "I think birds used to live in it."

"Better'n wasps," Yoongi rasped, opening the door and ushering both of them out. He glanced back
at Namjoon over his shoulder. "Lights," he said, an odd grin quirking at the corner of his mouth.
"You need lights. Light that shit up to hell and back. Got it?"

The door slammed shut for the third and final time. Jin stared at it for a few seconds before
pivoting slowly on his stocking feet - arms still crossed tight over his chest, lips pursed. Namjoon
opened his mouth but stopped when he caught a glance at the look on Jin's face, blanching as he
tugged his gloves off. "Kim Namjoon," Jin said again, his voice slow and careful and not terribly
even. "I'll ask you one more time. Did you or did you not steal a tree from the Tau Deltas?"

Namjoon brightened a little then, in a sort of desperately hopeful sort of way - it was the look he
got when he had just thought of something that might save him, caught the spark of an idea that
could get him out of a particularly teeth-clenchingly difficult fix, found a straw to grasp in the
midst of a storm - and spread his hands wide in a sort of general gesture of goodwill.

"Merry Christmas?" he said.

 From: Kim Namjoon
Sent: 13:14, Dec 15
hey Jimin

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:16, Dec 15
??

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:17, Dec 15
hey i need some help

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:17, Dec 15
kk

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:17, Dec 15
sup?

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:18, Dec 15
so you know Jin's spending christmas at the house - he's super down about it and i'm trying to
figure out a way to make him feel a little better

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:19, Dec 15
aw :3

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:20, Dec 15
no not 'aw'

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:20, Dec 15
i'm nice

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:20, Dec 15
i'm a nice friend

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:20, Dec 15
i'm a nice friend who doesn't have any goddamn ideas so throw me a bone here man

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:21, Dec 15
lol idk

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:21, Dec 15
he likes food??

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:21, Dec 15
make him some food

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:21, Dec 15
NO

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:21, Dec 15
back up

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:21, Dec 15
buy him some food

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:23, Dec 15
thanks for the vote of confidence Jimin

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 13:24, Dec 15
hyung u literally blew up his stove

JIN
December 23

With no one in the house it was… quiet. It was way too quiet. Obnoxiously quiet, even - except for
when Namjoon would thunder around, thumping down the stairs sounding like a massive hamster
ball banging its way down a drainpipe, whistling and humming and spontaneously breaking out
into mumbled beat poetry under his breath.

The first few days Jin had sort of enjoyed it. There was a reason he lived in the Beta Tau Sigma
house rather than by himself in some lonely studio apartment off campus, of course, and it was
only partially because the house had a full (though currently half-destroyed) kitchen: the kids were
here, and they made everything just a little bit exciting all the time. Sometimes it was stressful,
sure… never really knowing what Taehyung was going to drag home, never really knowing what
mysteriously gagworthy new protein shake Jimin was going to stuff into the blender and then leave
to mildew in the sink, never really knowing what kind of nonsense was going to pour into or out of
the house with a sort of syncopated but reliable rhythm that Jin supposed he had to expect from a
rough-and-tumble pile of slightly unhinged Music majors.

For the first few days, after the initial shock of (blessed, blessed) silence had worn off, Jin had sort
of enjoyed it. He'd taken the opportunity to hang out on the couch in the living room under a
blanket, reading a book (a fictional book, that wasn't about food, for fun - a rarity in the life of a
Food Sciences doctoral candidate) and drink tea and bask in the multicolored lights of the
christmas tree Namjoon and Hoseok had stolen off of the Tau Delta fraternity grounds.

It was the kind of thing he'd never be able to do with everyone at the house, with Yoongi and
Namjoon arguing or Hoseok banging around in the basement or Jimin and Taehyung having some
kind of affectionate knock-out brawl in the middle of the main hallway. It was the kind of thing
he'd never be able to do at home with his parents, with everyone in his family dropping by at the
worst times and cookies always in the oven and a billion things to do and his mother's seemingly-
constant party hosting and his father barely giving him a single minute to himself with the sort of
desperate Middle-Aged Dad Trying To Connect With Cool College-Aged Son act he always put
on.

But by the fifth day he still had a little over a week before the kids would start coming back
(filtering back into the house in ones and twos, carting heavier luggage and even heavier stomachs)
and it was two whole days until christmas and Namjoon had gotten stuck in some side project for
three days and had barely come out of his room for forty-eight straight hours and Jin had run
through the entire stack of books that he'd set aside over the last year to read When He Had Time
(with the expectation that that time would be approximately Never) and he was officially Sick Of
This Nonsense.

He was bored. He was lonely. His parents had gone to Hawaii without him (without even asking
him) and the kids had all gone away and Namjoon was… Namjoon was Namjoon, and Jin couldn't
rightly fault him for it because Namjoon had always been like this, getting excited about something
and then getting stuck until he worked it out, like he couldn't move until the semi-gordian knot in
his brain had been puzzled out.

It was at roughly four in the afternoon on December twenty-third when he was sitting on the couch
in the living room scrolling through instagram updates and trying not to be desperately jealous (of
Hoseok's selcas with his sister, of Taehyung's constant photo updates of his grandmother's cooking)
when the front door opened unexpectedly. He glanced up, surprise loosening his grip, and dropped
the phone on his lap. "Hello?"

"Hey," came Namjoon's voice from the entryway, echoing oddly against the plaster and tile. His
voice was rough and muffled - hoarse with the cold (it hadn't stopped snowing for a week, the
streets becoming progressively more impassible with each heavily-clouded night), dampened by
the thick wool scarf he'd wrapped six times around his head. There were a few thumps and a sharp
clatter (Jin winced) that was undoubtedly Namjoon knocking the coat rack over. "Shit—"

"Are you okay?" Jin swung his legs out from under the blanket, shuffling into his slippers on the
floor beside the couch. "Do you need help? I didn't know you'd gone anywhere."

"Fine," Namjoon called, finally stepping up into the house, shaking one leg back out over the tile
floor of the entry like a dog to rid his jeans of a particularly obstinate clump of muddy snow stuck
to the stitching. "Yeah, I told you when I was leaving but I think you were listening to something."
He gestured at his face, miming the action of putting on headphones. "You seemed pretty plugged
in. I didn't want to bug you."

"You can bug me if you're leaving," Jin said, standing up and wrapping his arms around his chest
against the cold. Namjoon's arms were weighed down with plastic bags, heavy and bulging.
"Where did you go? It's disgusting out there."

"I dunno," Namjoon replied, glancing down at the slow drips of melting snow coming off his jeans
and onto the hardwood. "It's kinda transcendental, bein' outside in the snow by yourself.
Everything's sorta… halcyon, y'know? Bucolic, but in a sort of empyrean way."

"Sure," Jin said after a second. "Empyrean. My thoughts exactly." He cleared his throat. "Where
did you go?"
"Store." Namjoon hefted the bags in his arms, that bright, brittle expression flashing over his face
again. "I - I know the stove's pretty much fucked but we still got the microwave and, and we were
running low on stuff and what's christmas without food, right?"

"Right," Jin said, a little weakly. If he were a swearing man (and he wasn't) the thought that would
be running through his head would be motherfucking Kim Namjoon.

Every time Jin thought he had a handle on Namjoon he'd turn around and do something else, be
something else, and even though he really should have learned to expect it by now it always took
him by surprise. A day ago Namjoon had been holed up in his cluttered bearcave of a bedroom
with his huge headphones clamped over his ears, hissing something about treble and upping the
bass and not having the right sound for EDM under his breath, barely eating and probably not
sleeping and certainly not showering or brushing his teeth or looking up when Jin would try to get
his attention. Today he was clean-shaven and his hair was combed back and his cheeks were pink
from the cold and he'd gone out to… well, from the looks of things he'd apparently bought out
Lotte Mart's entire stock of microwavable goods and whatever christmas-themed candy he'd been
able to sift out of the no-doubt thoroughly picked-over seasonal displays.

"I got candy canes," Namjoon was saying, working busily at taking boxes and pouches and
vacuum-packed styrofoam bowls out of the grocery sacks and lining them up on the kitchen table.
"And some of those weird little chocolate santas that you like."

Jin blinked. How on earth did Namjoon know he liked those little chocolate santas?

"They're always in your instagram updates over the holidays, anyway," Namjoon added, like he'd
heard Jin's thoughts out loud. He paused for a second and shrugged. "If you don't want 'em I'll eat
'em. Chocolate's chocolate."

"I'll eat them," Jin said quickly, stepping forward and picking up one of the foil-wrapped
chocolates off the table, turning it over in his palm. "You can have some, but I'll - god, how much
food did you buy?"

"It'll keep," Namjoon mumbled shame-facedly. "None of it's perishable except for the milk—"

"You bought milk? None of us drink milk, Joonie, it's not like—"

"For the hot chocolate," Namjoon interrupted, setting the can of instant powder on the table. Jin
glared at it. It was his favorite brand. The expensive one. From Switzerland. The one he only ever
got at christmas. "This was on sale, and I've heard you mention that this was—"

It was too much. It was stupid, but it was too much, and Namjoon was terrible with skinship but for
a second Jin didn't care cause he'd been trying like anything not to feel lonely and neglected and
left behind but his parents were in Hawaii for christmas and all the kids were gone and Namjoon
had been holed up for three days and now Namjoon had… he'd gone to the store in the worst
weather they'd seen in years and it seemed like he'd remembered every stupid little tiny thing that
Jin had ever even once mentioned in passing. It was too much, and it was stupid, but for a second
Jin didn't care so he reached out and wrapped his arms around Namjoon's ribcage and buried his
face in Namjoon's back and took a deep breath.

Namjoon stiffened up like Jin knew he would, but didn't pull away. "Um," he said after a second.
"Um. Are you… are you okay?"

"I'm great," Jin mumbled into the back of Namjoon's sweatshirt. Namjoon smelled like snow, crisp
and cool and almost dusty. He smelled like the pine sap from the christmas tree in the living room.
He smelled like the shampoo he used, the heavy-conditioning kind that kept his bleached-blond
hair from drying out and snapping off at the root. "I'm great. I'm fine. Thanks for going grocery
shopping."

"No problem," Namjoon said finally, his voice strangely hoarse again. From the cold, probably.
He reached up and tentatively patted Jin's hands, locked around his chest. "It's… I'm happy to do it.
Merry christmas."

"Merry christmas," Jin sighed, but didn't let go. Just for a second, he let himself have this.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:13, Dec 09
hey Tae

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 13:13, Dec 09
YES

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:13, Dec 09
merry christmas

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 13:13, Dec 09
AND ALSO WITH YOU MY SON

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:15, Dec 09
….. cool

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:16, Dec 09
hey look i'm trying to come up with ideas to help Jin feel better about staying at the house for
christmas

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 13:16, Dec 09
BUY HIM A LIZARD

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:17, Dec 09
no.

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 13:18, Dec 09
NO NO I GOT IT
From: Kim Taehyung
Sent: 13:18, Dec 09
INSTEAD OF BUYING JIN-HYUNG A LIZARD

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 13:18, Dec 09
BUY ME A LIZARD

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:22, Dec 09
i don't see how that's going to help Jin feel better

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 13:23, Dec 09
HE LIKES SWEATERS

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:23, Dec 09
… yeah?

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 13:23, Dec 09
YOU COULD BUY HIM A LIZARD THAT WEARS A SWEATER

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 13:26, Dec 09
jesus fucking christ

NAMJOON
Christmas Eve, late afternoon

It had been snowing every night for a week and ice lay heavy on the trees, the gutters, the power
cords. Namjoon had gone out a few days ago and stocked up on food (the kind you could
microwave, of course) and for once he felt like he'd done something right because he wasn't sure
the grocery stores would still be open even if he could reach one without slipping to his untimely
death in the street.

As it was he'd barely been eating, consuming bags of microwave popcorn almost exclusively. He'd
gotten stuck somewhere in the middle of a composition and it seems like he'd spent a year listening
to the same four measures over and over and over, trying to figure out what was missing, what was
too much, what was in the wrong place.

In the middle of the afternoon on christmas eve the light in his bedroom flickered briefly, just for a
second, and he paused what he was doing to look up - just as the power went out.

There was a soft sighing noise as the furnace shut off, as the transformer outside on the street lost
juice, and then, floating up through the house, a scream.

Jin? Fuck, Jin!

Kim Namjoon shot upward, spun toward the door, very nearly choked himself to death on the cord
of his headphones, and spent a frantic three seconds disentangling himself desperately before
stepping forward and promptly tripping over a laundry basket in the dark and falling flat on his
face on the floor.

It took him a truly embarrassing amount of time to gather himself and regain his bearings enough to
get up off the floor, open the door to his bedroom, skitter across the short length of hallway to the
stairs, bolt down the steps in such a frantic hurry to reach the source of the scream that he almost
didn't care how damn dark it was until he tripped on the bottom landing and only just barely caught
himself before slamming face first into the wall. The house was silent, now - no further screaming,
no footsteps, no generalized unfocused hum of a fully-occupied house. Just quiet. And darkness.
And Kim Namjoon, racing down the center corridor back into the kitchen.

When he stepped over the threshold into the kitchen (hand clutching the door jamb for support,
chest heaving) Jin was on his knees by the counter, head bent, face in his hands, broad shoulders
tense and just barely shaking.

"Jin," Namjoon choked out, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. "Jin, are you okay?"

Jin looked up at him, eyes just slightly wild. "No," he whispered. "No, I'm not okay."

"What?" Namjoon stumbled over the threshold, sinking to his knees in the dark next to Jin, hand
coming up - hesitating, palm hovering a few centimeters over Jin's shoulder. "A-are you - I mean,
the power went out, but - wait, are you hurt?!" Oh, oh god, did Jin get hurt? Namjoon felt his
lungs constrict with panic and he lost all hesitancy, reaching and pulling Jin around to face him,
turning his jaw back and forth to check his throat for any cuts or bruises, scrambling to pick up
Jin's hands to inspect his palms his fingers his nails his knuckles—

"It's christmas," Jin said, voice going thick. "It's christmas and my parents are in Hawaii and I've
never spent christmas away from home and all the kids are gone and I'm out of books—" He'd
started to cry a little bit, face going pink and blotchy, but hadn't pulled his hands out of Namjoon's
grip. "—and it hasn't stopped snowing and you've been holed up in your room for like a week and
I'm lonely and you blew up my stove—" Namjoon blanched. "—and I was just, I was just going to
make some ramen or something, I don't know, it's so stupid, but everything's ruined and now the
power's gone out and it's christmas and my parents are in Hawaii without me and I'm here and
you're - you don't—" But he was just babbling now, descending into embarrassed tears as he gently
collapsed down into himself like a disturbed flan.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Namjoon swallowed his nerves. Tamped down his fears. Steeled himself,
and reached out, folding Jin tight into his arms. "I'm really sorry," he said, feeling like the biggest
fucking idiot in the goddamn universe. Jin curled up, pressing his wet face into Namjoon's throat,
and sucked in a shuddering breath like he was trying like hell to calm down - and god, god,
Namjoon just wanted to fucking die. "I'm - I'm really, really sorry, Jin, fuck - I'm really used to just
being here by myself over christmas and it's never a big deal and I'm not, I'm not accustomed to
anybody else being around so I kinda ignored you on accident, I'm really sorry—"

"It's okay," Jin mumbled thickly into Namjoon's sweatshirt, bapping him gently in the shoulder
with a loose fist. "I'm just being ridiculous. Everything just sort of… hit at once. And my ramen is
still in the microwave," he added - and that was just barely enough to start him crying again.

Oh, fuck. Namjoon was so unbelievably bad at this kind of shit. For half a second he wished like
hell that Jin was here to deal with this before he remembered that Jin was here and that was pretty
much the entire problem. Or some of it, anyway, the part of the problem that he hadn't caused by
being a self-absorbed jackass. Namjoon resorted to patting Jin awkwardly on the back, the gears in
his head spinning furiously, searching for any possible resolution to his predicament.

"It's gonna get cold," Namjoon stuttered out after a second. "We… we should start a fire. In the
fireplace? That'd be… that'd be nice. Christmasy?" he hazarded, trying to remember the last time
he'd felt particularly christmasy, whatever that meant. "It'll be okay. It'll be okay, Jin."

"I know," Jin sighed into his throat. He curved down a little and scrubbed at his face with both
hands, hiccuping gently. "I'm really sorry. I know I'm being ridiculous."

"No, god, Jin, it's fine, you're not—"

But Jin was pulling back, out of Namjoon's awkward embrace - shaking his head and rubbing his
eyes with the backs of both wrists, smiling that tight I'm Fine smile that Namjoon fucking hated
with every fiber of his being because it only ever showed up when Jin was absolutely resolutely
not fine in any way whatsoever. "I'm okay. It'll be okay. You go…" He glanced up, over his
shoulder - lips parted for a second in thought. "You go collect all the blankets and pillows you can
find, all right? I made everybody strip their beds and launder everything before they left so
everything should be clean. Pile them up in the living room and I'll… I'll start a fire. Okay?" He
glanced up into Namjoon's face, eyes still damp, face still blotchy, but his mouth a straight firm
line like he'd decided that everything would be fine whether it liked it or not. "Okay, Joonie?"

"Okay," Namjoon echoed back, sitting back on his heels for a second before struggling upright. He
held down an arm to help Jin up. "It'll be okay. It'll be fun. We can hang out. Eat those chocolate
santas. Boil water on the hearth and drink hot cocoa. You know?"

Jin winced. "I kinda… already ate all of the santas." His eyes flickered up to Namjoon's face for
half a second before he stared at the floor again. "Sorry."

"You didn't, actually." Namjoon tugged gently on Jin's wrist - once, twice - before dropping it,
shaking his head and grinning as he headed out of the kitchen to go collect bedding. "I figured you
would probably eat 'em so I bought twice as many as I showed you."

He wasn't quite fast enough to miss Jin's quick, sharp inhale of irritation and fury, but he did
manage to duck around the punch Jin aimed at his shoulder. "You're a jerk," Jin yelled down the
hallway after him. "And… thanks."

"I know you," Namjoon yelled back down the stairs. "Merry christmas."

When Namjoon tumbled down the stairs again, arms full of all the comforters off of all the beds in
the house, pillows stacked up way too high and dangling precariously from his fingers, Jin was
sitting in front of the fireplace in the living room with his arms around his knees, watching the tiny
fire flicker and hiss into existence.

"I didn't know you were so good at lighting fires," Namjoon said, sub-consciously lowering his
voice. In the quick-advancing dark (the sun setting outside, even the streetlights out) the world
seemed to have changed, like the house existed in isolation; its own little bubble universe with just
him and Jin and the fire in the fireplace, hissing and spitting to life.

"Food sciences," Jin said simply, shrugging. He didn't look up. "Sometimes pilot lights don't want
to work. Sometimes you have to burn stuff. I can get all kinds of things to go up in smoke. Just
takes patience and the right tools."

Namjoon dumped the armful of blankets and pillows on the couch, pulling a few pillows out of the
tangle and setting the on the floor next to Jin. "Don't teach Tae any of that."

That's what it took to make Jin look up, but unfortunately it was with a glower on his face. "Do I
look like an idiot?"

"Nah. Just taking precautions." Namjoon gave up on trying to keep things organized and just tossed
the rest of the pillows on the floor, kicking them around with his stocking feet so that they were
laid out in a single layer of padding over the hardwood. A couple of blankets over the top and they
had something that could almost look like a bed if you sorta squinted and maybe just tried looking
at it in your peripheral vision. He tossed a blanket over to flop over Jin's shoulder. "It's gonna get
fuckin' frigid, Jin. It's already feeling pretty damn antarctic upstairs."

"Thanks," Jin mumbled, pulling it distractedly over himself. "When do you think the power will be
back?"

Namjoon groaned as he lowered himself onto the floor next to Jin, hauling his phone out of the
pocket of his pajama bottoms. God, what a perfect day for him to forget to charge the damn thing.
"Power company website is estimating between twelve and twenty-four hours," he said after a
minute of frantic searching. "We're in a low-priority zone. Not a lot of people around campus on
christmas eve."

"Yeah." Jin sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his face into his knees. "Makes sense."

"Man, I—" Namjoon closed his mouth. Grimaced. "I fucking hate this, Jin."

"Yeah, well," Jin mumbled, pulling the blanket in tighter.

"No I mean…" Namjoon rubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck, Jin, I know… I know this is rough
for you. Being here on christmas."

"I'm a grown up. I can handle it."

"I know you're a fucking grown up, but—"

"But what?"

Namjoon slouched over and stared down at his hands, turning over a piece of lint in his fingers like
a nervous tic. "I'm used to being here over christmas, by myself. Just me and the house. It's nice. I
like it when everyone's here but it's… it's nice. To get a break."

"Sorry to invade your private time."

"That's not what—" Namjoon glared at him. "Come on, Jin. Work with me here."

Jin glanced up, and the expression on his face softened a little when he met Namjoon's eye. "Sorry.
I'm being difficult. I'm just… in a bad mood, I guess."

"It's okay." Namjoon sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "You're allowed to be in a bad
mood. It's a stupid situation and I'm sorry you're stuck here with me instead of—"

"I'm not," Jin interrupted suddenly, glancing over to stare at the fire.

"What?"

"I'm not sorry," Jin clarified. "That I'm here. With you. I mean I'd rather not be stuck, but… but I'm
not sorry that it's with you, if that makes any sense. When you're not tangled up in a composition
you're… you're a pretty cool person to spend time with, and I guess I kind of miss that."

It was a second before Namjoon realized he was staring at him, and resorted to staring down at his
hands instead. "You kind of miss that? What… what do you miss? Spending time with me?"

"Spending time alone." Jin sighed again and closed his eyes, letting go of his knees to fold his legs
crisscross instead. He slumped over a little like he was wilting slightly in the glowing heat of the
fire. "With somebody else. Just one person. I don't know. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," Namjoon said quickly, for all he understood what the hell Jin was talking about. "I
don't really know what you mean, though."

"I was in this one relationship for… for a really long time," Jin said suddenly, after a few seconds
of silence. "We were inseparable. We did everything together. We were together for… god—" He
rolled his eyes skyward as if trying to remember. "—six years? and that's a really long time when
you're young."

"You're still young, Jin, it's not like—"

"I mean younger." Jin shrugged. "All of high school. First couple years of university. It was a long
time. I thought we were going to… I don't know, not get married—" He stuttered into silence for a
second, seeming to go pale - or maybe it was just the strange light of the fire, inconsistent and
golden on his skin. "Something like that. I thought we were going to, to be together forever. Grow
old together. Raise kids or something, I don't know."

"You've never talked about this before," Namjoon said cautiously, trying like hell not to feel hurt
that Jin had never once mentioned a long-term girlfriend as serious as this one sounded.

"It's not really relevant to my daily life anymore." Jin scratched the bridge of his nose, grimacing in
a self-conscious way. "I only mention it now because it's - it's not the same thing, but that was the
last time that I spent time alone with somebody like this. Not doing anything," he stammered
quickly, head shooting up to fix Namjoon with a worried look, "I just mean… I don't know what I
mean."

"I get it," Namjoon lied. He didn't get it at all, but saying he did seemed to help Jin settle a little so
in the end it was worth it.

"It's just that christmas at home is always really busy," Jin went on. "And with everybody in the
house I'm never alone, not really. So this is… it's nice. That's all. Spending time alone with
somebody. And if I have to be stuck here—" He hesitated for a second. "—I guess I'm glad it's
with you."

A feeling of warmth (strange and electric and humming like amber and velvet) filled Namjoon up
slow from the pit of his stomach to his solar plexus to his lungs to his heart to his throat to his head
all the way to the tips of his hair and down his legs and his arms and his hands and his palms and
everywhere, everything full of gold and warmth and static. He felt like if he looked down there
might be electricity sparking off his fingertips. He'd tried, in his own exceptionally dense way, to
make it seem like christmas even though it had been years since he'd last felt like December was
really christmas, and just when it had looked like all of his haphazard efforts had fallen short Jin
was sitting in front of the fire with pink in his cheeks saying it was nice spending time here. With
just him, alone.

He felt the closeness of that strange little bubble universe again, like it was just him and Jin in the
whole world, just the two of them in front of the fire and it was… it was nice. It was nice. It felt
like christmas, for maybe the first time since he was nine years old.

"I got you something," Namjoon said suddenly, the realization hitting him like a lightning bolt. He
looked up and Jin was staring at him in confusion, lips parted curiously. "It's - I was gonna give it
to you tomorrow," he stuttered out, struggling to his feet on the uneven carpet of pillows and
blankets, "but it's all cold and shit and, uh, look, just hold on a second it's upstairs I'll just—"

"You didn't have to get me anything," Jin was saying, but Namjoon was already halfway up the
stairs.

He'd bought it two weeks ago so that he could bribe Hoseok into wrapping it for him (he'd briefly
considered wrapping it himself but that fancy had lasted all of three seconds) and then promptly
stuck it under his bed and forgotten about it. It was pitch black and freezing in his bedroom and
god, why the hell was all this shit on his floor? Why didn't Past Namjoon have the foresight to pick
up the damn place back when he'd had light? Present Namjoon cursed Past Namjoon heartily under
his breath and swore on his mother's currently-empty grave that he would do Future Namjoon a
solid by picking things up in here as soon as he had enough light, knowing even as he did so that it
was a promise he would surely break.

Fortune smiled on him and his hand found the package after only two seconds of increasingly
frantic flailing, the metallic paper crinkling under his hand like it was telling a secret. He gripped it
tight and held it to his chest and gave himself a second to send a silent prayer of thanks to whatever
(surely nonexistent) deities might be listening before picking his way cautiously across his
minefield of a bedroom and tumbling down the stairs in the dark.

When he stumbled back into the living room the whole room had heated up from the fire and Jin
was still sitting there in the exact same spot, except now the rest of the blankets and pillows and
various sleeping bags had been arranged carefully into a sort of makeshift nest. "You didn't have to
get me anything," Jin said again, as Namjoon lowered himself back down onto the floor next to
him. He held out his hands anyway, though, blushing a little - or maybe it was just the heat of the
fire on his skin - as Namjoon shoved the silver-wrapped package awkwardly into his hands.

"It's not the best gift in the world," Namjoon stuttered, staring at it as Jin very, very carefully
slipped his fingertips into the folds to pull apart Hoseok's impeccable wrapping job. "It's just—"

"Did you wrap this?" Jin was pulling the paper back slowly. "It looks like Hoseok's handiwork."

"Yeah." Namjoon raked a hand through his hair. "You really don't want me to try using both tape
and scissors at the same time, it can get really—"

"Hoseok left over a week ago," Jin interrupted, glancing nervously into Namjoon's face. "You kept
a secret? For that long?"

"You don't have to sound so shocked. I can keep secrets sometimes, it's not like—"

"You really, really can't," Jin said flatly, laying the wrapping paper next to him on the blankets.
The box sat in his lap, plain and unmarked, and he stared at it for a second. "You kept this a secret?
From me?"

"Just open it," Namjoon muttered, slouching over.

Jin blew a raspberry at him and lifted the lid of the box up, setting it aside. He paused. "Oh."

"It's stupid," Namjoon stuttered out, reaching forward for a second before thinking better of it again
and jerking his hands back. "Oh, god, okay so I was like… I was like panicking and shit like an
idiot and I totally - god, Jin—" He raked a hand through his hair, coughing out a wry laugh of self-
loathing and embarrassment. "—you're gonna laugh at me - I texted everybody for help, even Tae,
and he said this dumb thing about buying you a lizard wearing a sweater - only motherfucking Tae,
am I right? - and then a couple of weeks ago I was in Dongdaemun and I saw this and I was like—"

"It's perfect," Jin breathed, like he hadn't heard Namjoon at all. He smoothed his hands over the
sweater folded up neatly in the box and laughed - a real, actual laugh, bright and kind of goofy like
he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Is this.. is this seriously a Yoshi-themed fair isle sweater?"

"Yeah." Namjoon watched him nervously, vaguely worried that he was going to… who knew -
explode maybe? Turn into a pumpkin. Burst into tears again, which would be the worst of all
potential eventualities. "Yeah, it's—"

"It's perfect," Jin said again, a little breathless as he lifted it out of the box. "God, Joonie, this is
amazing, I've never - I didn't even know they made stuff like this, this is incredible, how did you
even find this?"

"It was an accident," Namjoon said, glaring down at his hands in his lap to avoid watching as Jin
pulled the sweatshirt he'd been wearing over his head (his undershirt pulling up with it, showing a
narrow strip of the thin skin over his waist) and pull the sweater on instead. "I was just walking
around, I wasn't expecting to see it, but it was right there and I thought of you and, I mean, I know
this has been really hard for you, and—"

"Shut up, Joonie." Jin's voice was muffled in the wool briefly before his head popped out of the
collar, his hair sticking up and his cheeks pink. "It's amazing." He looked down at himself and
grinned, pulling the hem so he could stare at the pattern upside down on his chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Namjoon said after a second.

Jin laughed and rolled his eyes. "Go get the kettle and the hot chocolate mix," he said. "We'll make
some hot cocoa and go to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah." Namjoon shoved himself up to his feet. "Cause if we don't Santa won't come, right?"

"Merry christmas," Jin said. "Jerk."

"Merry christmas, Jin."

It was the heat that woke him up.

Namjoon opened his eyes and couldn't figure out where he was for a second: the light was too
strange, the heat was too much, the bed under him was strangely too hard and yet too soft all at
once. He wasn't in his bed in his room on the third story of the house. He wasn't in his room,
anyway, and certainly not in his bed, and anyway usually (unfortunately) he was alone in his bed
and no one ever—

Wait, what?

He pushed himself up on one elbow and glared around the room, still half asleep and practically
dreaming. Right. Right. Okay. This made sense. He was in the living room and they'd lit a fire and
gathered up every blanket and sleeping bag and pillow in the house in a futile attempt to keep both
warm and comfortable at the same time. He'd never realized how difficult a prospect that could be
until the electricity had sputtered and died and the furnace had groaned to a halt.
The fire had died in the night, just a few scattered embers still letting off heat and light in a nest of
ashes. The power had come back on at some point while he was sleeping - the kitchen light was on
and beaming soft yellow light down the hallway, somewhere upstairs there was a radio (or
something) that seemed to be playing mostly static and some complicated piano piece that he
couldn't recognize through the interference. The christmas tree in front of the window had lit up
and the yellow and green and blue and purple and red lights glowed gentle and quiet and just a
little bit magical in the pitch black nothing of early morning.

Next to him Jin rolled over in his sleep. Wrapped a hand around his arm. Pulled in close against
him and sighed a heavy, exhausted breath.

It shouldn't have surprised him that Jin was there - they'd huddled up here the night before and
watched the fire crackle and hadn't talked about anything much and when Namjoon got tired he'd
crawled in under a pile of blankets and slipped into unconsciousness with his face tucked into the
quilts and every millimeter of exposed skin feeling like it was about to freeze off. He'd known that
Jin would still be there in the morning because of course he would be, where else would he be? but
still somehow he found it surprising, confusing, strangely upsetting in a way that he couldn't quite
put his finger on.

Between them the heat was too much so he shoved off the first few layers of blankets, and—

"Did the power come back on?"

Namjoon glanced down. Jin's eyes weren't open, his eyelashes still against his cheeks, but his lips
were parted and Namjoon knew (he knew) that he'd heard Jin speak. It hadn't been a dream, right?
Jin had actually said something. "Yeah," he mumbled, shoving himself into a sitting position.
Somewhere below them in the basement the furnace kicked back on, humming and sighing as it
drew in a deep breath through the vents. "The power came back on. It's a goddamn christmas
miracle."

"When I was a kid," Jin sighed, his eyes still closed, "my parents made a christmas morning rule
that I couldn't come wake them up until seven o'clock at the earliest, and I couldn't open any
presents until everyone was awake and in the living room."

Namjoon glanced down at him. Jin was still wearing that ridiculous Yoshi sweater and he'd slept
with his head pillowed on his arm so the yarn had left a pattern on his cheek. "Man. That's… that's
kind of a shit rule."

"Nah." Jin blinked a few times, slow and sleepy, before sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face.
"It made it more exciting, in a way. You know when you're a kid and you hate waiting, and on
christmas morning you always wake up early because you're too excited?" He looked up at the
tree, hands in his lap with fingers curled just slightly and palms up. "I'd come out and plug in the
christmas lights and sit on the couch and just look at it in the dark."

Namjoon stared at him. "That's…"

"What?"

"That's fuckin' adorable, Jin. When did you stop?"

Jin laughed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "If I was at home I'd be sitting in the
living room right now, with the tree on and a cup of coffee or whatever. I guess it's kind of a
tradition or something. Sitting in the dark by myself for an hour on christmas morning. Just me and
the christmas lights."
"Sorry to invade your private time," Namjoon said, Jin's words from the night before coming out of
him without permission.

"No," Jin said. Nudged Namjoon with an elbow. "This is… it's kind of nice. To have somebody to
share it with." Then he suddenly sat up straight. Shot Namjoon a look of embarrassed shock. "I got
you something too! I forgot about it with - with the power and everything—" Jin shoved himself
upward, stumbled out of their makeshift nest, went for the stairs. "Just give me a second."

"You didn't have to get me anything," Namjoon said, into the space where Jin had been.

For about fifty-five seconds Namjoon found himself alone, sitting on the floor of the living room
in a mound of blankets with the world dark outside the windows and the christmas lights on the
tree reflecting off the glass. He was still kind of too warm but mostly he just felt kind of
embarrassed - with the power back on it was like the world had crept back in while he wasn't
looking. The bubble universe had deflated, dissipated, and now he was left wondering what the hell
he'd been thinking, what the hell had happened. He hadn't had anywhere to be but here. He hadn't
had anything to do but make sure the house was okay. He hadn't had anyone next to him except
Jin, and it had been… kind of nice. Relaxing, but somehow still charged with something he
couldn't quite figure out.

Maybe it was that still, now, after all these years, Jin made him just a little bit nervous? Ninety-five
percent of the time Jin was down-to-earth and human and made mistakes and tripped over his own
feet and fell down the stairs and burned the rice and lost his patience and cried over ramen in the
microwave, but the last five percent was a mystery. Jin seemed to know things he didn't which
always made him feel a little bit awkward with somebody, but maybe it was just that he was older?
Maybe. But that smile he got sometimes when Namjoon was talking, the funny little close-mouthed
quirk with his lips pursed and his eyes curved - it threw Namjoon off, was all.

And now it was christmas morning at - god, what the hell time was it? he felt like he'd slept for a
year but still needed another six months - and Jin had gotten him a present. A present? What the
hell. Just, sure, Namjoon had gotten him one too, but that was… he was trying to make Jin feel
better. Namjoon felt fine. He was used to hanging out at the house by himself over christmas. It
was always something he honestly kind of looked forward to, being alone with no one getting in
trouble or needing advice or having a hard time with their homework or throwing pizza on the
goddamn roof. But then this year Jin had been there too and… and strangely Namjoon hadn't found
himself minding, had found himself liking it, had found himself anxious and a little confused when
Jin stood up and bolted up the stairs to find something only he knew about.

Jin thumped back down the stairs, a small gold-wrapped package in one hand. "It's not a very fun
gift," he was saying, staring down at it, "but I thought it would be useful."

"You didn't have to get me anything," Namjoon said again, feeling suddenly even more stupid than
he had when he'd just woken up. (He wouldn't have thought it possible, but then life was full of
unexpected surprises.)

"You don't really get christmas, do you?" Jin folded down next to him, crossing his legs and
presenting the gift with both hands and an embarrassed grin. "I don't like it because I get stuff - I
mean, don't get me wrong, that's a really big point in its favor - it's also that I like giving things to
other people." He glanced worriedly at the package in Namjoon's hands. "But maybe I have a
tendency to pick things that are a little too… practical."

"I'm sure it's fine." Namjoon normally tore wrapping paper, partially because it was faster and
partially because hell, it's not like he wouldn't end up ripping it the fuck up anyways, why delay the
inevitable? but with this for some reason he found himself handling it delicately, sliding one finger
under each fold to slice through the tape. (Maybe it was that the bubble universe from the night
before hadn't really completely dissipated. The lights on the tree, reflecting off the window,
bouncing off the white paint on the living room walls, echoed the golden light of the fire. Jin's face
was lit up, warm and strange and somehow fragile.) The paper fell away, and he stared down at the
gift in his hands.

"They're little gps stickers," Jin said quickly, his hands twisting together. "You can put them on
your phone and your wallet and your keys or, or whatever, and then you can use your phone to call
them, or if it's your phone that you lost there's a button you can push on any of the stickers to make
the other stickers ring, and you can put the app on more than one phone so I was thinking I could
put it on mine too so even if everything's lost you can still—" He stuttered into silence. "It's
stupid."

"It's perfect," Namjoon said.

Jin went a little pink, unless it was the christmas lights playing tricks on him. "You don't have to
pretend to like it, it's okay."

"No, I'm serious. This is fuckin' awesome, Jin." He turned the packaging over in his hands. "I didn't
even know that they made these." He glanced up and grinned. "Just think, maybe soon I won't need
you to keep track of all my shit for me."

A smile flickered across Jin's face and he tucked his knees up against his chest. "Yeah."

"Hey," Namjoon said. He set down the gift. "Jin, you okay? I mean it, I really like it, you made a
good choice. It's—"

"This is nice," Jin interrupted. "I don't want you to misunderstand. I'm glad you're here. But
also…" He shrugged. "I don't know."

"You're not at home."

"Yeah."

Silence settled over them, broken only briefly by the sound of the last few embers cracking and
separating in the orange-red heat. Jin turned his head, rested his cheek on his knees, stared up at
the christmas tree. "I mean," he said after a second, the words coming up and out of him like a sigh,
"I mean I know that this is part of growing up. You leave the nest, or, or whatever. You find your
own family. You make your own family. But I'm just… I'm still so attached, Joonie."

Namjoon flinched, felt his face go hot. "Am I your kid? That's so cutesy."

Jin closed his eyes. "Namjoon-ah. Is that better?"

"No." God. Why did he feel so stupid? His head was going so damn slow still, it was like he was
still asleep. "'Joonie' is… it's fine. It's always been fine. I was just joking around. Call me Joonie."

"Joonie," Jin said, tipping over gently. "Namjoon-ah. Kim Namjoon-ssi. Namjoon-oppa." He
sighed and lay down again, pressing his face into the pillow. "What was that you called me?
Jagiya?"

"It was a joke." He lay down next to Jin despite himself. It was so early and he was so tired and the
living room was so warm. "I didn't mean it."

"Ah, jagiya," Jin breathed, voice half asleep and filled with an affectionate kind of mocking.
"Come here."

Namjoon couldn't find it in himself to resist when Jin rolled over and threw an arm over him.
"You're really more like my mom, anyway."

"Nah," Jin said, and now he sounded almost like he was really truly asleep, barely conscious
enough to keep speaking. He wriggled a little, settling into the blankets, settling against Namjoon's
side. "The joke is that we're married. I can't be your mom." He pressed his lips gently to Namjoon's
temple, making an exaggerated smacking noise when he pulled away. "That's gross."

"You're gross," Namjoon stuttered, but didn't push him away.

"Mm. Go to sleep, Joonie. It's too early to get up."

"Thanks for the present."

Jin just sighed in response, sighed and settled, muscles loosening in the heat of the blankets.
Namjoon turned his head and looked at him in the dark, in the strange light. Looked at his
eyelashes on his cheeks and the way his hair had gotten all messed up and how his mouth was
open just slightly, lips chapped from the cold and red from the heat. Looked at the way he'd settled
in against his side so his head rested on Namjoon's shoulder, his arm slung over Namjoon's chest,
one knee curving over Namjoon's leg.

"Merry christmas," Namjoon said. Closed his eyes. Turned his head so his face was buried in Jin's
hair.

Fell asleep.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:11, Dec 05
hey dude

From: Jeong Hoseok

Sent: 17:11, Dec 05
what's upppppp

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:12, Dec 05
hey so you know how Jin's parents are going to Hawaii for christmas

From: Jeong Hoseok

Sent: 17:13, Dec 05
(╯︵╰,) i knoooow sucks man

From: Jeong Hoseok

Sent: 17:13, Dec 05
he's totally down about it

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:14, Dec 05
right? okay, thank you, Yoongi had no idea what i was talking about

From: Jeong Hoseok

Sent: 17:15, Dec 05
we can all tell

From: Jeong Hoseok

Sent: 17:15, Dec 05
from the way you tiptoe around (⊙_⊙✿)

From: Jeong Hoseok

Sent: 17:15, Dec 05
taetae thought you might be in trouble iykwim

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:17, Dec 05
what?

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:17, Dec 05
no, i don't

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:17, Dec 05
i don't know what you mean

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:18, Dec 05
okay look regardless of whatever weirdass emoticon that's supposed to be i still need help making
Jin feel better about staying at the house for christmas

From: Jeong Hoseok

Sent: 17:19, Dec 05
buy him a present!!!!!

From: Jeong Hoseok

Sent: 17:19, Dec 05
a good one (^▽^)

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:20, Dec 05
well right

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:20, Dec 05
but what's a good present

From: Jeong Hoseok

Sent: 17:21, Dec 05
a new stove.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 17:23, Dec 05
………… low blow, Jeong.

JIN
January 2

On the 2nd of January Jin woke up in his bed at the Beta Tau Sigma fraternity house and felt the
thrill of anticipation roll through him even before he opened his eyes. It was today. It was today.
Everyone was going to come back home and everything could go back to normal and this whole
weird christmas experience would just be a memory that… that he'd remember every single time
Namjoon lost his keys or when he opened his dresser drawer and pulled out that Yoshi sweater,
sure, but the weird awkward tension would all be in the past and that's where it was going to stay.
He'd decided. That was it. Namjoon was Namjoon and the weird tension on christmas was over.

He was in the kitchen when the front door opened the first time and Yoongi tumbled over the
threshold, followed close behind by Taehyung. They'd come in on the same train from Daegu and
had shared a cab from the station. The next to arrive was Jimin, banging through the door
complaining about the cold at the top of his lungs because it hadn't been this fucking cold in
Busan, I tell you what, this was a goddamn travesty.

The last person to open the front door was Hoseok, and when he opened the door he hung back in
the entryway for a few minutes.

There was a muffled thumping noise, gradually increasing in volume as the footsteps descended
down the stairs, until finally Namjoon appeared on the last landing - skidding down into the
entryway and hissing something excitable and secretive to Hoseok under his breath.

"What's going on?" Jin said, glaring at Yoongi where he was seated at the kitchen table - but
Yoongi just shrugged and rolled his eyes, sticking his face back into his mug of hot chocolate.

There was a thump on the porch and Jin had absolutely had enough, so he stood up and left his hot
chocolate on the table and marched out of the kitchen (Taehyung and Jimin trailing after him,
whispering at each other behind his back) and down the main hallway and into the entryway and
fixed Kim Namjoon with a glare so fierce he could almost feel the heat of his own irritation
beaming out of him, and—

"Are you Kim Seokjin?" said a voice, and Jin skidded to a stop. There was a man on the doorstep,
wearing a uniform and looking vaguely disgruntled.

"Yes," Jin said. Namjoon and Hoseok grinned like idiots and shrank back into opposite corners of
the entryway. "Why…?"

"You have to sign," the man said, thrusting a clipboard at him. "There, on the line."

Jin took the clipboard, staring down at it. "What am I signing for, exactly?"

"We got you a stove," Jimin squeaked out from over his shoulder.

"We pooled our money," Hoseok said, grinning his ridiculous sunshine grin.
 "You got me," Jin said slowly, still staring at the clipboard in his hands, "a stove?" He looked up,
glaring at Hoseok. "Was this your idea? This sounds like one of your hare-brained—"

"It was Namjoon-hyung's idea actually," Yoongi cut in, leaning around Jin. "Are you gonna sign
for this shit or what?"

"Don't call me hyung," Namjoon growled at him. "I swear, I've told you a billion goddamn—"

Jin signed on the line, feeling like he absolutely positively one-hundred-percent had to be
dreaming. "Kim Namjoon," he said, handing the clipboard to the man on the porch and flashing
him a distracted courtesy smile before rounding on Namjoon. "What the fuck."

"Holy shit," Taehyung whispered, eyes going huge. "Jin-hyung swore."

"What the fuck Kim Namjoon," Jin choked out, punching Namjoon hard in the shoulder. "What the
fuck. First the, the sweater, then half of the chocolate santas—"

"Chocolate santas?" Yoongi hissed, tossing Hoseok a curious look. Hoseok just shook his head and
shrugged.

"—and now you've fucking bought me a fucking stove? Kim Namjoon!" Jin punched him again,
harder this time. "Kim motherfucking Namjoon you, you absolute asshole, since when can you
keep a fucking secret, let alone three fucking secrets at the same damn time—"

"Jin," Namjoon stuttered, flinching as Jin brought his fist back again, "Jin, wait, it was kind of
Hoseok's idea, it's not like—"

"You asshole," Jin said again, "you asshole Kim Namjoon why are you so fucking great this is
just, this is just rude and I don't appreciate it very much—"

And then he was tipping over, overbalancing, being pulled in by whatever gravitational force must
have been orbiting Namjoon like some kind of motherfucking asshole tractor beam, thudding hard
against Namjoon's chest and wrapping his arms around Namjoon's ribs and burying his face in
Namjoon's collarbone. Namjoon was terrible at skinship but Jin couldn't help it for once in his life
because Namjoon had bought him a stove? he'd bought him a stove and he'd kept it a secret and
gotten him a tree and texted everybody for help on how to make Jin's christmas tolerable and
bought him his favorite hot chocolate and hid extra chocolate santas and he'd gotten everybody
together and bought him a stove.

"You're an asshole, Kim Namjoon," Jin mumbled into Namjoon's shoulder.

Namjoon unfroze after a second and hesitantly wrapped his arms around Jin. "Merry christmas," he
said.

"Whatever," Jin said back. "You're still an asshole."

Chapter End Notes

I haaaate AO3's formatting sometimes please just pretend the space on the hr tags
makes any sense at all CRIMINY I swear I tried so hard
 The One Where Jeon Jeongguk Survives Long Enough To Regret His Life
Choices
Chapter Notes

There's underage drinking in this chapter, but no one gets hurt (besides falling in a hole
and throwing up a little) and nobody gets taken advantage of.

This chapter is full of obnoxious poetry. Full disclosure: I am not a poet.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

JIN
January 8, nearly midnight

For once the house seemed to be quiet. Taehyung and Jeongguk were out and everything was all
cleaned up and Namjoon was crashed out on the couch (face covered by an open textbook which
fluttered dangerously whenever he snored) and Hoseok was in the basement working on some
homework or something and and Yoongi and Jimin were, uh… frankly Jin wasn't sure where they
were exactly but he'd decided a few weeks ago that it was officially None Of His Business and if
either of them felt like filling him in that was their prerogative.

Jin, for his part, was puttering around the kitchen like he usually did when he was a little bored and
a lot worried, cleaning each individual glass by hand and rinsing bottles for the recycling bin and
scrubbing the counters down and shining the sink (it was really amazing what you could do with
two parts white vinegar and one part dish soap, followed up by a liberal deep clean with way too
much sodium bicarbonate and an old toothbrush he'd liberated from Namjoon's side of their shared
bathroom counter - lord knew Namjoon could stand to replace his toothbrush more frequently, he
argued silently to himself whenever he felt bad about taking it) and so it was that Jin was in the
very back of the house when the front door slammed open.

He paused at the sink and looked down at his hands in their pink rubber gloves, half submerged in
soapy water, and thought very carefully about what was probably about to happen. Of course he
hoped it was already Jeongguk and Taehyung but - he glanced skeptically up at the clock over the
fridge - it had only been a couple of hours and this very same errand had taken Jimin and Taehyung
almost all night two years ago when they'd put them through it. But then he heard Taehyung's
voice hissing worriedly in the tiled entryway, his voice echoing strangely against the plaster, and
Jin sighed. Pulled his hands out of the water. Stripped off the gloves, and wandered out of the
kitchen.

"What," he said, "is going on out here?"

"He got everything," Taehyung said distractedly. "He got every single thing." He was standing over
Jeongguk worriedly, arms held out as though he were about to hug him but keeping them hovering
out about half a meter to each side, ready just in case Jeongguk tipped over unexpectedly. Which…
okay, actually that seemed more likely the more Jin looked at them.

Jin jerked forward, heart leaping into his throat, hands whipping behind his back automatically to
tangle with his apron strings without him even thinking about it. "Joonie," he yelled over his
shoulder as he passed by the living room, "I need you!"

Jeongguk looked - he looked sort of triumphant, actually, in a curiously green sort of way. His face
was drawn and there were shadows under his eyes and he wobbled slightly, shifting his weight
from foot to foot as though he were trying to keep his balance on an ocean liner with questionable
success. "I got everything," he slurred - then burped, going even greener. (Jin wouldn't have
thought it possible, but then life was full of surprises.)

It was at this point that Namjoon lurched out to lean sleepily against the wall where the main
corridor met the living room, blinking blearily and rubbing a hand over his face - cheeks flushed
and indented with the telltale marks of where his textbook pages had crumpled and folded and
stuck to his skin as he slept. "Why do you need me?"

"Jin-hyung always needs you," Hoseok cut in, opening the basement door at the exact right time.
He paused, one foot on the top step of the stairs, staring into the entryway where Jeongguk was
swaying and spinning gently as Taehyung knelt at his feet to tangle with his ever-present tan work
boots. "The fuck's goin' on with the fetus?"

"He got everything," Jin said, voice tinged with disbelief. "Tae says he got everything."

Hoseok turned to fix Jin with a dubious stare, letting out a cough of incredulous laughter until he
saw the dead-serious expression on Jin's face and the cough of laughter turned into just a cough.
"Wait - you're not shittin' me? He got every fuckin' thing? Even mine?"

"Even yours," Tae confirmed, yanking Jeongguk's left boot off of his foot as gently as he could so
as not to over-balance the kid even more than he was already all by himself. "Even Jin-hyung's."

"Eh-ver-ee-thiiiing," Jeongguk sang erratically, voice modulating and yodeling in the distinctive
warble of a trot classic as he swung a suspiciously light backpack from one hooked forefinger. "An'
we didden get caught an' we didden even fallinahole—"

"He fell in one hole," Taehyung corrected, looking a little shame-faced as he shoved himself to his
feet and hurriedly kicked off his own shoes so he could trail after Jeongguk as the kid weaved into
the house. "It was just a little one."

"I only cried a tiny bit," Jeongguk hissed, dipping dangerously close into Hoseok's personal space -
eyes narrowing as he held his thumb and forefinger up to one eye to illustrate just how little he
wept like a baby at the bottom of a shallow ditch. "Two tears. Three," he corrected after a second.
"Three tears. Minutes."

"It was ten minutes," Taehyung said. "He thought he'd lost his arms."

"This was a terrible idea," Jin bit out, turning to shoot Namjoon an extremely poisonous look as he
followed Taehyung and Jeongguk back into the kitchen. "Try to get him to sit down—"

"It's tradition," Namjoon protested weakly, trailing after them like a concerned puppy consisting
primarily of elbows and shame.

"—I'll get him a glass of water," Jin continued, ignoring Namjoon's half-asleep moans about
upholding the proud traditions of the fine house of Beta Tau Sigma behind him. ("Our forefathers,"
Namjoon was professing blearily in the door of the kitchen, one hand held aloft as though
honoring the memory of a bunch of idiot kids who were now slightly older but still idiots, "passed
this ritualized institution down to us so that we might weed out the weak and the unwilling—")

"No," Jeongguk croaked, the backpack tumbling from his hand as he staggered forward to clutch
unsteadily at the end of the kitchen table. "No, no water—"

"The fuck's goin' on in here?"

Jin turned around as he set the pitcher of water back in the fridge, nudging it closed with one hip.
Yoongi was in the process of shoving past Namjoon into the kitchen, eyes fixed curiously on
Jeongguk's shaking shoulders. "Jeongguk got everything," Jin clipped out, stepping carefully to
Jeongguk's side and gently laying one hand on his arm. "Sweetie, you need to drink some water—"

"He doesn't look so good," Jimin said slowly, peering out from behind Namjoon's arm. (His shirt
was inside out. Jin decided not to mention it. Not his business, right?)

"I don't feel so good," Jeongguk mumbled. He stood up straight. Went even slightly more green,
staggered to one side, reached out to clench one hand over Jin's shoulder, and then promptly
vomited dark crimson red all over Jin's shirt.

There was silence for a second, broken only by Jeongguk's pathetic heaving.

"Oh my god," Taehyung said in a conversational tone. "He's dying. We killed him."

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:16, Jan 04
oi Jeongguk

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:16, Jan 04
Tae tells me you got a 3.95 your first term

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:17, Jan 04
No

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:17, Jan 04
what?

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:17, Jan 04
3.97

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:19, Jan 04
well excuse me very fuckin much i'm sure

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:20, Jan 04
regardless
From: Kim Namjoon
Sent: 10:20, Jan 04
you've proved your eligibility for the frat

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:21, Jan 04
be at the house at 8:30pm exactly on friday

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:23, Jan 04
that's the 8th

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:25, Jan 04
Thank you sir, I'll see you then

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:26, Jan 04
please, god, don't call me sir

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:26, Jan 04
bring a printed copy of your GPA from fall term, k?

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 10:27, Jan 04
cool. good talk.

JEONGGUK
January 8, 8:23pm

On Friday, January 8, at twenty-three minutes past eight in the evening, Jeon Jeongguk stood on
the front porch of the Beta Tau Sigma house and stared at the door knob.

It was already dark. It had been getting dark later and later in the evening - a gradual change ever
since the middle of December, summer beginning to creep inexorably back into the world - but still
by the time six in the evening rolled around the sky was black and the streetlights were all on and
black ice, invisible and dangerous, began forming slippery, treacherous patches on the roads and
sidewalks. Now it was twenty-three minutes (Jeongguk looked at his phone - well, okay,
twenty-four minutes) past eight in the evening and the porch light was flickering overhead (when
were they going to replace that old bulb? maybe he could talk Namjoon into it once he was
officially initiated) and he was seven (well, okay, six) minutes early.

The house was dark. The house was quiet. He'd have thought that they'd all forgotten about him,
maybe gone on a house outing to the bars on the main university drag just off campus, except that
he could peer through the sidelights framing the door and count all six of their heavy winter coats
hanging from their hooks in the entryway, and there was no way in hell Jin would let anyone out of
the house in January without their coat.

Jeongguk shouldered his own coat up higher, shoving the huge scarf his mother had given him for
christmas up to cover his mouth and nose before pushing his gloved hands in his pockets and
scuffing his big heavy boots on the boards of the porch. He'd been a little annoyed when she'd
given it to him - yeah, it had snowed right after finals, but not even Seoul could get that cold, right?
But now it was under 0C outside and he was regretting every single ounce of annoyance he'd felt
upon opening the box. Maybe someday his mother would turn out to be wrong about something,
but it wasn't going to be today.

He was only three minutes early now. Maybe that was all right? Namjoon's text had said exactly,
and Jeongguk hadn't gotten a 3.97 in his very first term as a university freshman by not knowing
how to follow directions.

Well, screw it.

Jeon Jeongguk swallowed. Tamped down his fear. Pulled one hand out of his pocket. Pressed the
doorbell.

Waited.

After a few seconds of heavy silence there was a thumping noise, like someone making their way
up a set of steps, and then the front door swung open.

"Fetus," Yoongi drawled, leaning on the edge of the door. "Sup?"

"I'm not a fetus," Jeongguk replied automatically. "I mean - hyung."

Yoongi shrugged languidly and scratched the bridge of his nose. "Whatever. It's fuckin' freezing
out here, you gonna come in or what?"

"Uh." Jeongguk blinked. He hadn't known what to expect (a classmate who'd ended up joining the
Tau Deltas had told horror stories of an all night drinking binge followed up by naked paintball at
five in the morning) but it hadn't been this - Min Yoongi slouching in the entryway of the Beta Tau
Sigma house in fairly typical black skinny jeans and a black hoodie and oversized wool socks.
Jeongguk stepped over the threshold awkwardly. "Yeah. I'm - yeah. Namjoon-hyung said I should
be here at eight thirty?"

"Yeah, yeah." Yoongi nudged the door shut behind him and stepped into the house, pulling the
hood on his sweatshirt up over his head and gesturing impassively. "Initiation or whatevs. Get your
boots off and follow me."

Jeongguk looked up, nearly losing his balance as he struggled with his laces. "Where are we
going?"

"Where else?" Yoongi turned in the corridor to face the entryway, and Jeongguk was suddenly
struck by how very dark the house was. Yoongi reached out and laid one hand on the door knob to
the basement. Pulled the other out of his sweatshirt pocket and pulled a black mask up over his
nose and mouth so that only the pale skin around his eyes was visible. "We're going to the
basement."

There was a moment - just a moment, barely even half a second - as Jeongguk was following
Yoongi down the steps into the depths of the basement under the Beta Tau Sigma house in which
he wondered just how good of an idea this was, really.

He'd been coming to the house for three months, spending most days in the living room with Jimin
arguing over what the best kind of donut was or in the back yard kicking errant pine cones into the
bushes with Hoseok or playing video games in the great room on the second floor with Tae or in
the kitchen helping Jin make dinner or even, on one single memorable occasion, in Namjoon's
absolute pit of a bedroom where Namjoon showed him one of the compositions he'd working on
for his doctorate. (Jeongguk hadn't been sure at the time if he'd felt motivated or utterly enervated
by it - it inspired him to work hard and improve, sure, but there was part of him that listened to the
beat threading through the melody, the harmonies and treble lines speaking to each other almost
like an easy conversation between friends, and wondered how the hell he'd ever ever manage to get
music to do that for him.)

He'd been coming to the house for three months, but he'd never once gone into the basement. He'd
picked up the vague idea from somewhere that it was where Hoseok did most of his schoolwork,
but as he reached the bottom landing right behind Yoongi he realized that he'd never stopped to
wonder what exactly it was that Hoseok did down here all the time. What it was that anyone did
down here, really, and right now with the air still and the lights off and the only sound the gentle
scuff of Yoongi's stocking feet on the concrete floor… Jeon Jeongguk wondered just how good of
an idea this was, really.

"Hey," he said - but his voice came out hoarse and worried, so he cleared his throat and tried again.
"Hey, hyung - um, what are we—"

"Jeon Jeongguk," came a voice out of the darkness, and Jeongguk startled, jumping back and
nearly tripping over some mysterious cord that he must have unknowingly stepped over in the pitch
black of the basement. After that half second of terror he realized that it was Namjoon's voice -
pitched low and graveled, sure, but definitely Namjoon's voice. In the impenetrable black a lighter
flared, and an apparently disembodied hand reached out to light a single candle. "Jeon Jeongguk.
You have stepped within the walls of Beta Tau Sigma. What do you bring to prove yourself?"

"He's talkin' about the rules," Yoongi hissed at Jeongguk under his breath, leaning in close.

"I - I bring my GPA," Jeongguk stuttered out, stumbling forward as Yoongi surreptitiously shoved
him at the small of his back. He dug desperately in the back pocket of his jeans for the folded
paper - fumbling and nearly dropping it in his hurry to hand it forward. "Three point nine seven for
the term."

A hand reached out of the darkness into the dim, flickering circle of light thrown by the single
candle, and Jeongguk leaned forward in a low bow to present the paper with both hands.

The hand withdrew. There was the sound of unfolding paper. A quiet, hissed conversation (he
heard Jimin's voice, pitched high enough to carry even in a low whisper, hissing something about I
dunno, I can't see shit) and then a dark, hooded figure stepped forward with his GPA held
delicately in long fingers.

"The Brotherhood of Beta Tau Sigma has deemed you worthy," Namjoon said, and Jeongguk
resisted the almost uncontrollable urge to roll his eyes. Namjoon picked up a small metal bowl
from the table where the candle had been placed (Jeongguk was pretty sure Jin had served him rice
out of that very same bowl back in November) and stuffed the paper into it. "Your acceptable GPA
will be burnt as an offering to our forefathers." The lighter flared again, and somewhere behind
Namjoon Jeongguk heard Taehyung mumble none of them are dead, I don't- but he was cut off
with a grunt after having apparently been elbowed in the gut. The paper went up in flames and
Namjoon dropped the bowl hurriedly on the table, jerking his hand back.

"Shoulda had Jin-hyung handle the lighter," Yoongi mumbled behind Jeongguk's shoulder.

"Are you prepared to face the trials?" Namjoon said, raising his voice irritably over the growing
tittering from the other inhabitants of the room.
Jeongguk's eyes had started getting used to the dark, and now he could see all of the members of
the frat (excepting Yoongi, of course, but Yoongi was still standing at his right elbow - Jeongguk
could hear his breath rattling against the black mask he wore over his nose and mouth), clustered in
a tight circle behind Namjoon. All of them were wearing identical black hooded sweatshirts, black
jeans, black socks, black masks over their faces like it was supposed to hide their identities
somehow.

"Trials?" Jeongguk said, coming back to himself. "Wait, nobody mentioned any—"

There was a long-suffering sigh from behind Namjoon's shoulder and Jin stepped forward. "It's a
scavenger hunt," Jin said, elbowing Namjoon gently out of the way.

"They're trials," Namjoon insisted, voice going a little high and whiny as he argued ineffectually.
"It's tradition, Jin—"

"I never had to do any trials," Jin said mildly.

"You're a special case," Namjoon growled at him.

"Initiation via marriage," Yoongi hissed to Jeongguk, voice low.

"Fine," Jin said, waving a hand and stepping back out of the light. "Proceed with the trials or
whatever they're supposed to be. I don't like it, though. I just want everyone to know that."

"Everybody knows, hyung," Hoseok piped up out of the back. "Didn't stop you from writin' a trial,
though."

"Jeon Jeongguk," Namjoon said, raising his voice again. "Step forward and receive your trials."

Jeongguk stepped forward. Swallowed. "Um—"

"Hold out your hands," Yoongi mumbled in his ear.

Jeongguk held out both hands and Namjoon shoved six envelopes into his palms. There was a
number written on the back of each one. "Your trials," Namjoon continued, "are delineated on
cards in each of these envelopes. You must read the directions off each card in turn, deduce the
meaning, and acquire the item or experience required before proceeding to open and continue with
the next envelope. You must return to the Beta Tau Sigma house to present your findings by three
in the morning. For any item which you don't successfully acquire, there will be a price to pay."
Behind him, Jin heaved another sigh. Namjoon pointedly ignored him. "You must not be caught,
by campus police or the real police, while going about this sacred duty. And you must complete
these trials—"

"—while trashed," Taehyung hissed delightedly, lurching forward.

"—after consuming six specially prepared concoctions," Namjoon said loudly, shoving Taehyung
back in line, "by directive of our Beta Tau Sigma forefathers. One for each of the current members
of the Brotherhood."

"There used to be over a dozen of us in the old days," Yoongi commented conversationally. "There
were still only six shots then, too. We didn't really feel like goin' to jail for manslaughter by alcohol
poisoning."

"Six shots?" Jeongguk reeled. "I have to drink six shots and then go on a scavenger hunt? And then
if I don't succeed—"
"There will be a price to pay," Namjoon repeated in a low, booming voice. (Jeongguk felt very,
very strongly that the president was enjoying this way too much.)

"We'll give you a chaperone," Jin cut in.

"We drew straws for it," Taehyung said quickly, eyes twinkling.

Jin rubbed a hand over his face, pulling the mask down to reveal pursed lips. "Right. Which is why
I didn't add 'to make sure you don't die' because—"

"I won!" Taehyung chirped, flashing a V sign. "I'll be your chaperone!!"

"—because Taehyung won," Jin finished, closing his eyes.

"Hoseok!" Namjoon yelled, struggling to get things back on track. "Go get the shots!"

"The specially prepared concoctions," Hoseok corrected primly, flapping a hand limply as he
sidestepped around Jeongguk and bounced up the stairs.

Namjoon ran a hand over his face. "Whatever. Just… whatever."

"I do not," Jeongguk choked out, slamming the last of the six shot glasses back down on the table,
"want to know what was in that last one."

"New pledge initiations are the only time we allow Tae in the liquor cabinet," Hoseok informed
him, leaning over the table and pulling his mask down. "Yo, ya gonna open the first envelope or
what?"

Jeongguk pulled the stack of envelopes out of his back jeans pocket, where he'd crammed them in
order to have his hands free to take the shots. His eyes were watering and his vision was tracking
slightly through the tears (no way he was even a little drunk yet, right? no possible way) and it took
him a couple tries to figure out which of them had the number 1. He shoved the rest of them back
into his pocket and tore open the envelope, glaring blurrily at the card.

The ideal of any group is a complex question. How so?

Both the arms as well as core must be involved in any task.
But who should act as arms and core? All members must, for success.

Silence fell over the group.

"Hyung," Yoongi said finally. "Did you seriously write a fuckin' shijo poem for the poor kid?"

"Don't call me hyung," Namjoon shot back, "and anyway—"

"How'd you know I was talkin' to you?"

"It's in my handwriting!"

"The fuck is he supposed to figure out a fuckin' ancient-ass riddle like this shit? You think we live
in Joseon? Should he have attended fuckin' Sungkyunkwan or whatever the fuck, worn a blue an'
white dress and a crazy-ass hat, maybe studied a little Confucian—"

"It's push ups," Jeongguk said suddenly, still staring at the card. He held it out and then pulled it in
close to his face, squinting at it. "It's a complex exercise that mostly engages your arms and your
core, but it works a lot of different groups." He glanced up at Namjoon. "And all the members -
you want me to do six push ups? Seven, if you're including me in the count?"

"Right," Namjoon said finally. "That's right. You're right. Seven push ups. Good job."

Jeongguk shrugged and threw the card lackadaisically over one shoulder (Jimin jumping to catch it
out of the air as it fluttered downward) before dropping like a rock - landing on his fingertips and
easing himself down. "One," he said, pushing himself back up. "Two—"

"This is obscene," Hoseok commented cheerily.

"I do more than seven push ups every single day," Jimin countered, stuffing the card into the
backpack Taehyung had brought out for this purpose, "and you never think that's obscene."

"—four. Five—"

"You never do it after six shots," Hoseok replied, shrugging and crossing his arms over his chest.
"And I've never seen you just hit the ground runnin' like that before."

"—seven," Jeongguk announced, not even out of breath. He pushed himself up with a quick pump
of his arms, rising easily to his feet. "Are they all gonna be that easy?"

"No," Hoseok and Jin said at the same time, then glared at each other.

"Mine is," Yoongi cut in. "Second envelope." He looked up to see Namjoon grimacing at him.
"What? I figured you were gonna pull a stunt like that, I wanted to give the kid a goddamn break.
So sue me."

Jeongguk pulled the quickly diminishing stack of cards out of his back pocket again, leafing
through until he found the one labeled 2. He tore it open, slightly more haphazardly than the first,
and just barely managed to pull the card out without dropping it immediately on the floor. He
glared at it. Turned it over. Turned it over again. Opened his mouth to read it aloud.

bring me an airplane or something

"Yoongi, god damn it I told you these were supposed to be riddles—"

"Yeah like your fuckin' classic lit pop quiz was a goddamn riddle, the fuck was that, at least mine's
somethin' he can understand—"

"A toddler could understand yours, they're supposed to be—"

"He's a fuckin' fetus!"

"What's he doing?" Hoseok cut in, staring down at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk had dropped back down to the floor, card still in his hands, and had begun working
busily at it - folding it in half, then diagonally, then in thirds… until he glanced up, brought his arm
up, and threw the paper airplane he'd made out of the card up at Yoongi so that it very, very gently
got stuck in his bangs. "Two outta six," Jeongguk slurred.

There was quiet for a moment.

"Golden maknae," Taehyung sang in a pleased falsetto as the rest of the group stared at Jeongguk.
He danced forward and plucked the paper airplane out of Yoongi's hair, dropping it delicately into
the open maw of the backpack. "Told ya he was a good choice. You all doubted me, but have I
ever steered you wrong?"

("He threw a paper airplane at me," Yoongi muttered petulantly, patting at his bangs.)

"Yes," Hoseok said distractedly. "Okay, granted, but he's not gonna be able to figure out mine on
the basement floor, a'right? You two need to go get your coats on, you got four more trials to pass
in the next…" He dug his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and turned the backlight on. "Eh,
call it six hours. And I know for a fact that mine's gonna be a pain the ass, so you better get started
if you don't wanna pay the price."

("At least he didn't hit you in the eye, babe," Jimin cooed comfortingly. "He's pretty drunk.")

"The price," Namjoon echoed, seeming to come back from whatever shellshocked haze he'd fallen
into. "Yeah. The price. You better get going, guys."

Behind him, JIn rolled his eyes. "Just…" He pursed his lips. "Just don't get caught. And Tae—"

Taehyung stopped at the bottom of the steps, where he was busy shoving Jeongguk up the stairs.
"Yeah?"

"Don't let him fall in any holes, all right?"

Jeongguk scoffed, voice echoing strangely in the stairwell. "I am not," he slurred, "gonna fall in
any holes."

The door at the top of the basement steps slammed shut. There was the sound of clomping feet on
the floorboards overhead. A few moments of quiet, the span of time it took for both Taehyung and
Jeongguk to struggle into their respective boots and scarves and coats and gloves. Then the sound
of the front door swinging open, a moment, and then the sound of it slamming shut.

"Well!" Jin said brightly, shoving the hood back off his head. "They are going to die."

"Don't be so pessimistic, hyung." Hoseok scratched the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "They
might just get arrested."

TAEHYUNG

Taehyung was already halfway down the front steps when Jeongguk reached out and grabbed his
arm, pulling him back. "What?

"How far away from the house are we supposed to be before we open the third envelope?"

Taehyung opened his mouth. Paused. Shrugged. "I'unno. Go ahead and open it now, I guess. Might
as well know where we're goin'." He clapped Jeongguk companionably on the shoulder, nearly
knocking him over as he reached into his back pocket for the remaining four envelopes. "See? I
knew I had a good feeling about you. You're a smart kid, Kookie."

"Don't call me Kookie," Jeongguk grumbled, pulling out the envelope labeled 3 and sticked the rest
in his coat pocket. He tugged his right glove off with his teeth, tucking it under his left arm to
struggle with the tab of the envelope. "Do you know whose this one is?"

Taehyung shrugged. "We all wrote one but Jin-hyung labeled 'em. Dunno which is which."
"You're gonna be a huge help," Jeongguk sighed, yanking the card out and glaring at the words
written on it in the sickly, flickering light of the ancient bulb over the porch.

Whatever you want to attend

You must inevitably spend
Whether it's time
Or a number of dimes
Or a tag you stick on your rear end.

"Ha haaa oh shit you got Hoseok's," Taehyung sang, tucking his head over to stare over Jeongguk's
shoulder. "You can tell his limericks cause he fucks up the meter in the fourth line, you see that?"

"'Kay," Jeongguk said after a second, tossing Taehyung a look out of the corner of his eye. "So the
riddle…"

"Yeah I got nothin'. Plus I'm not really supposed to help, per se…" Taehyung held out a hand and
wobbled it back and forth to suggest a certain flexibility depending on given circumstances. "I'm
really just hanging with ya to make sure you don't like die or whatevs."

Jeongguk made a face and glared down at the card for a second. "Doesn't Hoseok drive a
motorcycle or something?"

Taehyung perked up. "Yeah! It's around the side of the house, do you want me to go get him so he
can show—"

"Nope," Jeongguk interrupted, tumbling down the steps and shoving the card backward into
Taehyung's hands. "It's a fuckin' parking sticker."

"What?"

"The riddle." Jeongguk ducked around the corner of the house, triggering the motion-sensitive
floodlight and going straight for the motorcycle parked next to the siding. He squatted next to it
and peered at the back license plate for a second before finding what he was looking for - tugging
the little rectangle of cling vinyl off of the bike and waving it in the air over his head. "Whatever
course you want to attend," he said. "You gotta pay time by walking, dimes by taking the bus, or a
tag—" He stood up, reaching into the backpack to pull out the third envelope and slipping the
parking sticker carefully inside before depositing it into the backpack again. "—that you stick on
the rear end of your vehicle."

Taehyung gawked at him for a second. "Okay," he said. "Well… I hope you're right." He glanced
into the backpack. "Parking stickers are expensive."

"Maybe he shouldn't've made me go get one, then." Jeongguk pulled the remaining cards out of his
pocket. "All—" He hiccuped, nearly dropping them. "All right. All right. Allrightallright. That
was… the third one?"

"Yeah, so you're looking—"

"For four," Jeongguk cut in, waving the envelope over his head. "FOR FOUR. For four for four for
four for four four four. For. Four."

"Kookie—"

"Don't call me Kookie," Jeongguk interrupted solemnly, ripping the envelope open.
 The patient's heartbeat -
it can be heard many ways.
Choose the clearest path.

Jeongguk went quiet for a second before glancing up at Taehyung, who shrugged. "Jin-hyung," he
said simply. "Do you know what it is?"

"I think so." Jeongguk licked his lips. "But…" His eyes flickered up. "How good are you at
acting?"

Taehyung arched an eyebrow and laid a hand on Jeongguk's shoulder. "Since you're cute," he said
coolly, "I'll forgive you just this once. Believe me. I am an amazing actor. The Da Vinci of acting.
The G-Dragon of the theater. The Kim Soo Hyun of—"

"Kim Soo Hyun's an actor."

"Regardless," Taehyung sang, throwing a hand in the air dramatically, "I am fantastic." He
hesitated for a second. "Why?"

Jeongguk beamed, his face going slightly pink with alcohol.

"That might've been the craziest thing I've done all week," Taehyung said conversationally,
pressing himself as flat as possible against the concrete bricks outside of the nurse's station.

Jeongguk shushed him furiously, pressing a hand to his mouth as he leaned carefully over to check
around the corner to see if they'd been followed. "I think we're clear," he slurred after a minute of
successfully ignoring Taehyung thoughtfully prodding his palm with his tongue. "And - wait, what
do you mean might've been? All week?"

Taehyung shrugged indulgently, pushing off from the wall as he shoved Jeongguk's hand off of his
face. "I enjoy fun. In all its myriad forms. Some of those forms are not, shall we put it, strictly
legal." He shouldered the backpack down to the ground and yanked at the zipper. "Just tell me you
got it so we can switch to the next trial."

Jeongguk reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out their ill-gotten bounty. "The patient's
heartbeat," he slurred theatrically, holding the stolen stethoscope aloft in one hand like the skull of
Poor Yorick, "can be heard many ways."

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach," Taehyung countered, holding the backpack
open so Jeongguk could drop it inside the main pocket. "Did you like how I totally projectile
vomited on command in there?"

"No," Jeongguk replied. "That was the grossest thing I have ever seen and I don't want to know
how you managed to learn that as a skill. Or why you would want to. Or in what world it would
ever, ever come in handy."

"This one, apparently. For the noble purpose of initiating Kookie into Beta Tau Sigma." Taehyung
wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his wrist. "Open up the next envelope, I gotta get a
drink or something. Jin-hyung made kimchi fried rice for dinner and it tasted horrible comin' back
up the other way."

No small delight can trick my eye that sees

So clearly into that which I not know.
 I may not recognize with that much ease
But soon I see my understanding grow.

Amidst the low and dimly lit facade

I use what tools I have to shed some light -
In order to reduce what once was broad
To facts which bring a criminal to rights.

But if I cannot find that which I seek

I must try to look even closer still
To spy those facts that do my int'rest pique
and bring my spine that melancholy thrill.

What is there then, that can improve my eyes?

The answer to this riddle is your prize.

Jeongguk glared at it when he finished reading it aloud. "What the fuck," he said finally.

Taehyung glanced up from where he was kicking pine cones around the sidewalk like a football
player, twisting the cap back onto a bottle of water. "Too tricky?"

"Who the hell wrote this one?!" Jeongguk turned the card over a few times, almost dropping it a
couple of times. "The rest were handwritten and this one's typed - Namjoon-hyung is the only one
who—"

"I did," Taehyung interrupted brightly. "Shit, Kookie, you wouldn't be able to read my handwriting.
I had to type it out or we'd be out here all night just tryin' to figure out the word melancholy."

"Since when," Jeongguk said slowly, "do you write Shakespearian sonnets?"

"Uh since always," Taehyung shot back, clapping a hand over his heart as if stung by a poisoned
arrow. "I'm a double major, Kookie - Music and Theater. You gotta write a coupla sonnets when
you do theater, you know? Plus it's so fuckin' funny to leave dirty ones around the house and have
everybody assume it was Namjoon-hyung pervin' up the place."

"You tricky bastard." Jeongguk glared down at it, mumbling to himself and counting on his
fingers. "Shit, and it's even in iambic pentameter and everything."

"It's a sonnet," Taehyung whined, swinging from delighted right back to mortally wounded.
"'Course it's in iambic pentameter - if it wasn't I might as well just write a shit limerick or
somethin' like Hoseok-hyung." He arched his eyebrows. "So? Too tricky? Y'wanna give up? I'd be
cool with that, not gonna lie - it's cold as sh—"

"A magnifying glass?"

Taehyung scowled at him. "I was so sure," he said finally, "that I was gonna trip you up."

"Nope," Jeongguk shot back, shoving the card into Taehyung's chest. "You almost did. The sonnet
thing was pretty—" He hiccuped. "—pretty fuckin' good. Messed with me a little. But come on,
you give it all away in the couplet—"

"You think you're so smart?"

"Pretty smart," Jeongguk slurred. "Pretty fuckin' smart. Bet I can get better grades than you this
term."
Taehyung narrowed his eyes. "You're on. Winner gets to cut the loser's hair. Deal?"

"Deal," Jeongguk said, reaching out to shake hands awkwardly with Taehyung. (It took him a
couple tries to grab it.) "Now let's go get a damn magnifying glass."

Working Friday nights at the closest 24 hour 7-11 to a large university (and, perhaps more
specifically, the closest one to Greek row) was always a little bit of an adventure. The cashier
expected drunken jocks buying six-packs of Hite, staggering sorority girls buying lip gloss and
chocolate and soju, nerds vibrating gently as they stocked up on as many energy drinks as they
could stuff into the little shopping baskets 7-11 supplied at the door.

At half past nine the door dinged sweetly and she glanced up and bowed distractedly, expecting
the first of the frat boys to come tumbling in the door and head straight for the beer, but instead -
but instead it appeared to be a couple of younger kids, a freshman and a guy who couldn't possibly
be older than a junior (but who could really tell with flower boys these days), bowing politely as
they stepped over the threshold.

They seemed nice, if a little sleepy. The younger one seemed a little unsteady on his feet, maybe
like he had a cold, and the older one looked like he'd been throwing up recently. They were
probably just sick and in search of medicine. She felt a flash of sympathy as she watched the tops
of their heads move down one of the central aisles.

It only took them a minute to find what they were looking for and advance to the cash register, the
younger of the two setting the purchase down carefully on the counter like it was something made
out of spun glass.

She looked down at it. Then she looked up into the faces of the two kids in front of her. "Is… is
that all for you today?"

"Yup," the older one chirped, digging into his back pocket for a wallet. "It's all we need."

"We need it to find his dick," the younger one hissed conspiratorially, which got him a vicious
elbow in the side.

"Um," the cashier said, reaching out to accept the ten thousand won note. "Um, okay."

"He's joking," the older one stuttered, collecting their change and snatching the magnifying glass
off the counter before she could bag it. "Ha ha. What a funny - Kookie stop touching that, oh my
god, Jin is gonna kill me—"

They vanished, door sliding closed behind them. It was almost like they'd never been there at all.

"His dick?" the cashier muttered incredulously to herself.

Taehyung watched Jeongguk carefully as he pulled the final envelope out of his back pocket, the
smooth paper slipping in his clumsy fingertips. He nearly fumbled it a couple times trying to get it
open, glaring at it accusingly with his eyes inches away from the corner he was trying to lever
apart.

Taehyung cleared his throat. "Ah, Kookie, do you need—"

"I got it," Jeongguk cut him off, mumbling petulantly. "I - shitttt." The envelope fell to the ground,
barely a centimeter torn off of the corner. "Hold on. Hold on. Holdonholdon I got this, I got it." He
bent over, swaying dangerously, and leaned his forehead on Taehyung's thigh to keep his balance
as he scrambled to gain purchase on the edges of the envelope on the dew-damp pavement. "F-
fuck, this fuckin' thing, can't fuckin' believe - shit. No! Nononono I got it issokay, issokay." He
shoved himself upright and stuck it up in the air, tipping gently backwards with the momentum.
"'M a fuckin'—" He hiccuped. "A fuckin' superhero. Iron Man. Iron Man. I got it."

"Just open the envelope, Iron Man."

"Y'can't rush genius," Jeongguk mumbled sullenly, going back to struggling awkwardly with the
envelope. Finally he managed to slip a fingertip through the opening he'd made before and the rest
of it it ripped open easily. He tugged the card out and glared at it.

Taehyung watched him for a few seconds. "Uh, do you need—"

"Issjust abs," Jeongguk slurred, turning the card around. "Issjust Jimin's abs."

Taehyung tugged the card out of his hand. A four panel photo card had been stapled to it, one of
those black and white ones that you never saw anymore. The first panel was recognizable as Jimin,
flashing an excitable V sign at the camera. The second was motion-blurred as Jimin's hand darted
to the hem of his loose muscle tee. The third and fourth were almost identical, basically just… abs,
at two different angles, with Jimin's wickedly grinning face barely visible in the corner behind the
edge of his shirt were he'd pulled it up high. Underneath the photo card was scrawled five words in
Jimin's loose, rounded script.

One good turn deserves another.

"Gotta find a pura- a pori- a purikura machine," Jeongguk stuttered drunkenly, running a hand
through his sweat-dampened hair. "Fuckkkkk, Tae, the fuckin' fuck we gonna find a fuckin', a
fuckin' porikora machine, it's like fuckin' the middle of the fuckin' night—"

"You need to spend less time with Yoongi-hyung," Taehyung interrupted, still glaring at the photo
card. This was familiar. He'd seen it before, and the little itch of half-recognition was poking him
in the back of the head with a stick with increasing severity.

Oh. Shit. He knew exactly where this was.

He glanced up and flashed Jeongguk a grin. "Hey Kookie," he chirped excitedly. "How do you feel
about learning how to pick a lock?"

Jeongguk swayed like a sailor on the open sea and looked like he was thinking very, very hard.
"Don't think I can pick a lock," he said after a few seconds. "Don't have any fuckin' hands."

"I'll do it for you," Taehyung cooed comfortingly, reaching around to thread his fingers through
Jeongguk's. (He couldn't help but notice how solid and thoroughly existent they were, but decided
to decline offering this information for fear of triggering an inebriated existential crisis.) "I'm great
at being places I shouldn't be."

"Funny," Jeongguk said distantly, allowing himself to be dragged along, "I was just thinking the
same thing."
 JEONGGUK

"Kookie," Taehyung was breathing in his ear, "come on, Kookie, you can do it, we're almost
there."

"Don't call me Kookie," Jeongguk whined.

The world was upside down - which was really only a problem because while he seemed to have
turned upside with it, his stomach had remained rightside up and now was attempting to work its
way up his throat. Gravity, he thought vaguely. It was gravity. Had to be.

"We're almost back to the house, just a few more steps. Hold my hand, we gotta get up the front
stairs—"

"With what," Jeongguk moaned, flailing wildly. "I don't have any hands—"

"We've been over this, Kookie. You've got hands. You've still got hands. Kookie! Stop falling
over!"

"I will fall over," Jeongguk hissed, finally allowing himself to be manhandled up the steps, "if I
feel like it. I am a man. An adult. A grown—" He burped. It tasted like pomegranates and sadness.
"A grown up."

"Sure, babe. Just lean against the wall here, okay?"

"Babe," Jeongguk sang, pressing his forehead into the siding. "Baby baby baby—"

"Jin is gonna kill me," Taehyung moaned for the millionth time, struggling to slam the door open
and drag Jeongguk in out of the cold. He started working on Jeongguk's coat, unzipping it and
shoving it- back off of his shoulders. "Are you feelin' okay?"

"Feel great," Jeongguk slurred, swaying dangerously. "Feel like the inside of a toilet." He
considered this intently. "Maybe I shouldn't. Feel. Like the inside of a toilet. Since I'm a boy."

"Stop laughing," Taehyung hissed at him.

"What is going on out here?" It was Jin's voice, echoing down the corridor.

"He got everything," Taehyung called over his shoulder. "He got every single thing."

The house started to fill up with chatter as Taehyung pulled his boots off. Somewhere he heard
Hoseok's voice: "He got every fuckin' thing? Even mine?"

"Even yours," Taehyung was saying, kneeling at his feet to pull off his second boot. "Even Jin-
hyung's."

"Everything," Jeongguk confirmed, very impressed with how sober he sounded. He gestured
calmly with the backpack, swinging it loosely on one finger. "We didn't get caught, or fall in any
holes—"

"He fell in one hole," Taehyung interrupted, betraying him.

"I didn't cry though," Jeongguk stuttered, shoving up into the house toward the kitchen. "Like…
not even at all."

His stomach was still facing the wrong direction, its contents still fighting to come up his throat.
Maybe he was sick. Maybe Taehyung had actually been sick when they'd gone to the nurse's
station pretending to need medical attention and he'd caught it. Oh god - what if he had ebola?
How did you get ebola, again? And what was it? Something about liquefaction…

"—get him a glass of water," Jin was saying behind him.

Oh god! If he had ebola, should he have water? Wouldn't that just speed up the liquefaction? "No,"
he managed, dropping the backpack to the floor. "No, no water."

A careful hand on his arm. "Sweetie," Jin murmured softly to him, "you need to drink some water
—"

Jeongguk reached out and gripped Jin's shoulder for balance. "I don't feel good," he choked out—

—and lost the battle against his stomach.

As he sank to the floor, his lifeblood staining Jin's shirt in front of him, he heard Taehyung's voice
ringing out loud in the echo of the otherwise silent kitchen: "Oh my god. He's dying. We killed
him."

NAMJOON

"Jesus christ," Namjoon choked out, bolting forward. "Hoseok, Jimin—"

"Yep," Hoseok said, bolting forward to haul Jeongguk up with Jimin close behind.

Jin was standing there looking a little shellshocked, staring down at the growing patch of red on
his shirt. "I liked this shirt," he said distantly.

Namjoon grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back, letting Hoseok and Jimin wrestle
Jeongguk's long-limbed deadweight up into one of the kitchen chairs. "Somebody call 119,"
Namjoon yelled over his shoulder, hands going to tangle in the hem of Jin's t-shirt and jerking it up
and over his head as carefully as he could so none of Jeongguk's blood got onto Jin's skin. "Oh my
god, Jin, are you okay?"

"He's not dying," Jin said, seeming to come back to himself - wrapping his arms around his now-
bare chest against the chill. He shook his head at Yoongi, who already had his phone out. "That's
not blood. Smell it." Namjoon gawked at him. "I'm serious. Smell it."

Namjoon looked down at the t-shirt in his hands. Raised it cautiously to his face. Took in a
tentative breath through his nose. "… pomegranate?"

"It's my fault." Jin shrugged, the tips of his ears going pink. "I didn't want him to die of alcohol
poisoning, so I… for my shot I just gave him straight grenadine." He glanced guiltily over at
Jeongguk's prone form slumped over the table. "I guess it didn't agree with him."

"Oh my god," Namjoon moaned, slumping over and resting his forehead on Jin's shoulder. "Oh my
fucking god Jin you gave him fucking grenadine jesus christ I swear to god I thought he had ebola
or something—"

"Ebola?" came Jin's voice over his head, incredulous and half laughing. "Seriously? For someone
so smart you can be really dumb, Joonie."
 "So he's not dying," came Taehyung's voice.

"No." Jin rubbed a hand over his face. "Just really, really drunk. And he really got everything?"

Taehyung shrugged and dumped the contents of the backpack across the surface of the kitchen
table. "He got mine right. You all tell me if he got yours right too."

"I already know he got mine," Yoongi mumbled, shoving past Hoseok to grab a banana milk from
the fridge. "And Namjoon-hyung's, too."

("Dude, he totally got mine," Hoseok was saying - then paused. "Aw fuck, this is my parking
sticker, isn't it? And he totally tore it.")

Namjoon picked his head up off of Jin's shoulder and shot Yoongi a glare. "Don't call me hyung."

("Hey bro," Taehyung said, "you're the one who assigned the riddle. You only have yourself to
blame.")

"He got the stethoscope," Jin said, wandering over to the table and shuffling through the scattered
items. His hand paused. "What…?"

"That's mine," Jimin cut in proudly.

Jin picked it up, holding it up to the light. "You can almost see him getting more and more drunk,"
he said.

Namjoon leaned over his shoulder to glare at the piece of paper in his hand. It was a four panel
photo card, black and white, three of the frames contained mostly Jeongguk. The first two were of
him slumping over on the bench in the booth, his eyes open in the first and closed in the second,
flipping off the camera in both. The third was mostly motion blur, and the fourth—

"He fell over," Taehyung explained. "I had to duck in and catch 'im so he didn't crack his head
open."

Hoseok scratched his head thoughtfully. "Who wants to tell 'im that the price he had to pay for not
completing all the trials was sticking five thousand won in the ramen fund? Not it."

"We are never," Jin pronounced firmly, "doing this again."

Chapter End Notes

btw all of the items on the scavenger hunt are TOTALLY based (loosely) on their
costumes/concepts from the DOPE music video.
1. Namjoon, military cadet - push ups
2. Yoongi, surrounded by drones - airplane
3. Hoseok, racer - parking pass
4. Jin, doctor - stethoscope
5. Taehyung, detective - magnifying glass
6. Jimin, salary worker (with a photo ID badge) - photobooth photo
and bonus 7. Jeongguk, police officer - because he wasn't allowed to get caught.
 The One Where Min Yoongi Doesn't Hit It Off With Jimin As Well As It
Looks Like He Does
Chapter Notes

This entire chapter only happened because of an idea GoldenBeaux dropped in my lap.
If you like it, no credit goes to me!! If you don't... well, I'm the one who wrote it so I
should get the blame.

If you couldn't tell, the sorority they pair up with is AOA. :D

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"So this, children," Hoseok said calmly, stuffing his gloved hands into the pocket of his over-sized
down-filled coat, "is why rule three exists."

"Don't let Kim Taehyung into the liquor cabinet," Namjoon and Jimin droned in unison - Namjoon
slightly more darkly than did Jimin.

Jeongguk jogged a little to catch up. "It wasn't that bad," he protested. "I think it would have been
fine if Yuna and Chanmi hadn't asked him to do a whole line of them—"

"Restraint," Yoongi interjected, waving his free hand to cut Jeongguk off, "is an important skill to
learn. If all your friends were settin' shots of straight liquor on fire, would you?"

"I was the only one who touched the propane torch," Taehyung mumbled under his breath.
"Kookie didn't use it at all."

"My point still stands," Yoongi said, tightening his grip on Jimin's hand and tugging him in close.

Their breath fogged in the cold of the February evening as they walked home in near-silence, the
yellow-green light of the street lights like pools of lucidity in the darkness. They'd left the Beta
Tau Sigma house hours ago - the temperature had dropped significantly since then and now they
each huddled into themselves like snails, trying to retain whatever body heat they could.

Yoongi and Jimin clung tightly to each other, gloved fingers laced together, but no one mentioned
it. The whole thing had been kind of a dumb idea - maybe it would have been smart another time,
another year, with other versions of themselves - but they'd made it through and now Yoongi and
Jimin clung tightly to each other. Against what, no one knew but them, but then maybe it was
better that way.

They were a block away from home when Namjoon stopped short, Hoseok nearly running into
him. "Did we leave Jin?" Namjoon said, turning and staring back the way they came. "I was so
distracted, I didn't—"

"He's finding his own way home," Jimin interrupted nervously, stuttering the words. "He - he said
he had some other stuff to do. That he'd be back late."

Namjoon shot him an odd look. "Okay," he said after a second. "I'm just… surprised he didn't text
me, I guess."
"Yeah, well." Jimin looked down at the sidewalk and pushed forward, dragging Yoongi behind
him. "He seemed busy."

"Next Valentine's Day," Yoongi growled as Jimin pulled him down the sidewalk, "I vote we stay
home."

NAMJOON
Earlier that day

It wasn't Valentine's Day proper anymore, it was the Friday following - and Hoseok was in the
living room on his phone, pacing back and forth chewing on his lower lip when Namjoon came
thumping down the stairs. Jin was sitting on the couch watching him pace with a dispassionately
bemused look on his face and a cup of tea steaming in one hand, legs tucked up under him. He
glanced up when he heard Namjoon hit the bottom landing and he arched his eyebrows in a quick
jump of acknowledgment, mouth quirking slightly - the kiss of his lips pursing with something
akin to vague amusement.

"No one's pickin' up their damn phone," Hoseok grumbled, pulling the phone from his face and
stabbing at it irritably before pressing it to his ear again.

"I don't have to go," Jin said, and from the patient, lilting sound of it Namjoon could tell that it was
a sentence Jin had already said maybe a dozen times already.

Namjoon fell onto the couch next to Jin, stretching his arm over the back behind Jin's head. Jin
adjusted a little - moved so that his legs were crossed under him instead of tucked under to prop
him up in the corner of the couch - and leaned into Namjoon's side so that they could converse in
low voices. "Hoseok," Jin said quietly, bringing his mug of tea conspiratorially to his lips, "forgot
that we initiated a new pledge."

Namjoon arched one eyebrow. "… so?"

"So," Hoseok interjected, ending his umpteenth unsuccessful call and scrolling through his
contacts, "so this whole plan we came up with is in danger. We had a plan, hyung—"

"Don't call me hyung," Namjoon interrupted, but his heart wasn't in it. He glanced down. "Is that
ginseng jujube tea?"

"Mm." Jin swallowed his mouthful and held the mug out to him. "Just got it the other day. Want to
try it?"

"—we had a plan," Hoseok pressed on, rolling his eyes. "And I totally fucked it up. We have to
make a good showing!"

"I don't have to go," Jin sighed (again), as Namjoon took a tentative sip of his tea. "I already said. I
never really liked this party anyway, and anyway I have to be up early tomorrow morning to pick
up my cousin from—"

"Wait." Namjoon handed the mug back, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. The jujube
was too weird with the ginseng, it tasted like samgyetang without chicken. "Are we talking about
that annual Valentine's Day thing?"

Jin shrugged. "At the Tau Delta house. Yeah. Remember last year? The Alpha Omega Alpha
sorority approached us about teaming up? To make a good showing," he added, voice going a little
funny as he slipped into a poor approximation of Hoseok's satoori. "There were six of us, there
were six of them, they needed to make a good impression on the Sigma Nu Sigma Deltas and we
—"

"We won't be embarrassed again," Hoseok growled, pressing the phone to his ear with a certain air
of finality. "Not in front of them."

"Sometimes I wonder," Jin murmured under his breath and tucking into his mug of tea a bit, "if you
didn't take it a bit far with the whole Tau Delta rivalry thing."

"No distance is too far with those fuckers," Namjoon replied mildly, hand slipping down the couch
cushion to brush the backs of his fingers against the curve of Jin's shoulder. "A Beta Tau Sigma
never forgets."

"I'm not saying forget, necessarily. I'm saying that maybe a little forgiveness goes a long—"

"Mina!" Hoseok had finally gotten through to somebody and had fallen to his knees in the middle
of the carpet in sheer relief. (Sometimes, Namjoon mused to himself, he wondered if it shouldn't
have been Hoseok double-majoring in Music and Theater instead of Taehyung. Drama seemed to
run in his veins.) "Thank god, do you know that I've been trying to call all of you all day?"

Namjoon shot Jin a curious look. Jin just rolled his eyes. "Fifteen minutes," he mouthed
conspiratorially. "At most."

"Listen," Hoseok was saying, running a hand through his hair, "I can't believe I forgot about this,
but we got a new pledge this last January and I don't know if we still have the right number of -
what?"

"I told him I didn't have to go," Jin commented to Namjoon, shrugging.

"You have to come," Namjoon said, trying to keep his voice even. "It wouldn't be right without you
there. You're the heart and soul of the frat."

"I'm the cook. There's a difference."

"There's no difference. I—" Namjoon bit his tongue. "We need you there. Come on, Jin—"

"Oh, thank god," Hoseok sighed, running a hand over his face. "Okay, no, yeah, that's perfect.
Thank you. Yeah, everything's still on. Make sure to tell Ji— what?" His eyes flickered over to
glance at Namjoon and Jin, anxiety flashing briefly over his face - turning off and on shutter-quick
and almost imperceptible. "Y-yeah, it'll be okay. It's just one party, right? Right. Okay. Awesome."
He ended the call, letting out a long exhalation of relief. "Thank god. They also have a new pledge
- a freshman, like Kookie. She was just gonna stay home, but now we're okay."

"See?" Namjoon pinched Jin's shoulder lightly before shoving back up off the couch. "Cinderella,
you are going to the ball."

Jin rolled his eyes. "Be still my beating heart."

YOONGI
"I don't like this," Yoongi muttered, scratching irritably at his hairline.

"It's one night," Jimin cooed gently, reaching up to tighten Yoongi's tie, adjust the lapels of his
blazer, brush a bit of fluff off of his shirt collar. "And it's not like you'll be alone."

Yoongi made a face at him, leaning away a little. "That's the part I don't like."

"I mean," Jimin pressed on, curving in to pursue Yoongi's ambivalent escape, "that we'll all be
there. You aren't just being shoved out the door into the night with some strangers. And anyway,"
he continued lightly, stepping away to sit down on the bed, "you didn't have a problem with it last
year. Something about not being strong-armed out of our traditions by a superior force?" He
inspected his fingernails nonchalantly, crossing his legs primly at the knee with his ankles together.
"Where'd that bravado go?"

"We didn't have dates last year," Yoongi protested weakly, turning away with the cheap excuse of
closing the drawers of his dresser but mostly just trying not to look Jimin in the eye. "I don't know.
I just… I just don't like it. That's all."

"Did you not want to go with Jimin?"

That was Hoseok, sticking his head in the door with an almost evil expression on his face. He was
wearing a trim oxford, a red silk tie, black dress socks, a pair of bright blue boxer briefs… and
nothing else.

Yoongi sneered at him, feeling his cheeks pinking up embarrassingly. "The fuck are your pants?"

Hoseok shrugged. "Basement. Jin just about had a fit when he saw how wrinkled they were.
They're currently in the process of having the everloving hell ironed out of 'em."

Jimin leaned back on his hands on the mattress and laughed - that high, twinkling laugh that only
showed up when he was truly, wickedly delighted by something. (Yoongi wasn't sure how healthy
it was that he'd already memorized and categorized and organized all of Jimin's laughs, but then to
be absolutely fair he didn't really give a shit.) He'd been one of the first ones dressed, his suit trim
and perfect, the collar of his shirt starched and the red handkerchief arranged artfully in his breast
pocket and his trousers custom-made for him because the muscles in his thighs prevented him
from buying pants off the rack.

"Yoongi-hyung just isn't sure about this whole date thing," Jimin said lightly, shrugging sweetly.
"I keep telling him it'll be fine - we'll all be there to back him up—"

"And it's really just for the entrance anyway," Hoseok said, adjusting his tie. He glanced over his
shoulder, down the steps. "Yeah, I'll be right there! Trousers ironed," he commented through the
door as he pulled away. "Don't mess each other's clothing up too much while I'm gone, a'right?"

Yoongi glanced at Jimin just in time to catch the wry grin and the eye roll. "What?"

"Hyung," Jimin said. "It's like he thinks we can't control ourselves for five whole minutes."

Yoongi looked down at Jimin, sitting languidly on his bed (his bed, Yoongi's bed, the same bed
they'd had their first kiss, their first touch, their first everything) and felt something dark and hot
curl in the pit of his stomach. Jimin, with his sharp jawline and curving eyes. Jimin, with his small
hands and thick lips. Jimin, with his thighs straining at the thin fabric of his trousers.

"Right," Yoongi croaked out. "Five minutes. Pfft. No problem."

"It's one night," Jimin said again - eyes flickering up, smile quirking at the corner of his mouth.
"And it's not like we aren't coming back here after everything."

"Yeah," Yoongi said. "Yeah. One night."

JEONGGUK

"Okay," Jeongguk said slowly, standing in the middle of the room that he now shared with Jimin
and Taehyung as Taehyung dug around in the closet for something mysteriously and hopefully not
particularly alarming, "I think I'm gonna need you to run that by me again."

"There's a Valentine's Day party," Taehyung said, voice muffled in layers and layers and layers of
fabric. (Most of Taehyung's clothing was distributed between either the chest of drawers by the
window or in mismatched heaps on the floor - the closet had been taken over almost entirely by
Jimin and, now, by Jeongguk.) "Every year. Tau Deltas have been throwing it for, god, like a
billion years or something."

"Don't we have some kind of… I don't know… rivalry with them?"

Taehyung popped out of the tight space victoriously, hair sticking up, dust on his shirt, and
something covered in a garment bag clutched triumphantly in his hands. "Oh man, yeah," he said,
running a hand through his hair. Dust puffed out of the strands in dim gray clouds of fluff and lint.
"Honestly I don't know the whole story, but there was this big, like…" He waved one of his hands
vaguely in an illustration of uncertainty. "Like a schism or something? Beta Tau Sigma used to be
part of Tau Delta."

Jeongguk blinked. "Wait, really?"

"Totes." Taehyung whapped the garment bag a couple of times, sending dust flying, before
sneezing theatrically a few times. "Jesus. Nah, okay, so, like I said - I don't know the whole story -
but basically the Tau Deltas are dicks, we're better, they're not as strict as we are, et cetera et
cetera… but we still share some, like, traditions and shit." He held up the garment bag and tugged
the zipper down almost reverently. "Case in point: the annual Valentine's Day party."

"That sounds kinda dumb," Jeongguk said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jin swung around the door jamb, a hanger dangling from one forefinger. "It is." He shrugged. "It's
practically compulsory, though. Something about upholding the dignity of the frat. I wouldn't go if
Namjoon didn't force me to every year. Tae, did you find your suit?"

Taehyung shoved the garment bag the rest of the way off the hanger and extended his hand upward
victoriously, holding the dark gray suit aloft like the proverbial brass ring. "The suit!" he cried,
voice deep and booming in the way Jeongguk could only assume it was when he held the stage.
"Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, wherein—"

"That's enough Midsummer Night's Dream," Jin cut in. "Just put on the suit and tell me if you need
anything ironed. Jeongguk—"

"Midsummer Night's Dream?!" Taehyung staggered backward in horror. "That was Twelfth Night,
hyung! Viola's monologue, act two—"

"'Some swore he was a maid in man's attire'," Jin shot back, "'for in his looks were all that men
desire.' Put on the suit, Tae."

"You come into my chamber," Taehyung hissed. "You quote Christopher Marlowe at me."

"Jeongguk," Jin said again, pointedly ignoring Taehyung as he held the hanger in his hand out in
Jeongguk's direction, "I know you don't have a suit so Hoseok and I put together a few things for
you. Your legs are longer than his and your shoulders are narrower than mine but between the two
of us we have a suit that probably works. It's ironed, just try it on. And try to get Tae to stop going
into hysterics long enough to put his suit on, all right?"

Jeongguk glanced down at Taehyung, who was now splayed on the floor apparently reciting
Juliet's death monologue from memory in a keening falsetto. "Does this happen often?"

"How if," Taehyung squeaked underfoot, "when I am laid into the tomb—"

"Couple times a month," Jin replied, voice raised so Jeongguk could hear him over the death
throes. "I think he's got all the tragedies memorized."

("—to whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in—")

Hoseok stuck his head in the door. "Did you quote Marlowe at him again? What is he doing this
time?"

"Juliet," Jin replied.

"Ooooh."

"Hey," Jeongguk said quickly, stepping forward. "Taehyung was saying something about this
being a tradition from back when Tau Delta and Beta Tau Sigma were the same fraternity. Do
either of you—"

"That's my cue," Hoseok said brightly, backpedaling furiously out into the hallway again. "We're
meeting downstairs in five minutes, get Tae off the floor once he's done expiring."

"Yes," Jin said, rolling his eyes. "There was a schism. It was long and arduous and annoying and,
most importantly, it is now over. Except for a few weird custody battle things now they just kind of
have this weird sibling rivalry thing going on."

"Custody battle?"

("—festering in his shroud; where, as they say, at some hours in the night—")

"The Valentine's Day party is the main one." Jin adjusted his tie thoughtfully. "It was this huge
thing, and when the two frats broke apart neither wanted to give it up - more a power struggle than
anything - so now we have to dress up and go every single year whether we want to or not. Last
year was a disaster so Hoseok went and got everybody dates from one of the smaller sororities."

Somewhere above there was a thump following by muffled yelling. Jeongguk and Jin looked at
each other for a second.

("—as with a club, dash out my desperate brains—")

"I should go," Jin said, backing out of the door. "Get Tae into his suit when you can, all right? He's
almost to the end, so you'll have a minute of dramatic death and then you should be good to go."

Jeongguk looked down as Jin vanished up the stairs (yelling something about what did you lose
this time, Joonie?) as Taehyung gasped for breath and cried, "Romeo, I come! this do I drink to
thee," at his feet.

A Valentine's Day party sounded like a terrible idea. "Wait," he said after a second. "We have
dates?"

The plan, (Hoseok explained impatiently, in the manner of someone who absolutely did not have
time to go over this yet again), was this:
1. All members of the Beta Tau Sigma fraternity would wear suits with red ties and handkerchiefs;
2. All members of the Alpha Omega Alpha sorority would wear pink dresses;
3. They would meet at the corner of Fifth and Oak, two blocks from the Tau Delta house;
4. Pair up;
5. Wander into the party as casually as possible.

The idea was mostly to prevent anyone from being made fun of - the Tau Deltas were a much
larger, more powerful frat than Beta Tau Sigma and the Alpha Omega Alphas had similar beef with
the Sigma Nu Sigma Deltas, so it was that at some point since the last humiliating Valentine's Day
party they had decided (okay, Hoseok had decided) to join forces and at the very least avoid
ridicule.

"I don't like it," Yoongi said for what had to have been the thirtieth time, trudging along with both
hands shoved into his trouser pockets and a truly dangerous look on his face.

"You were fine with it when I came up with it last year," Hoseok barked at him, "and I don't want
to hear any complaining once we're near the girls. All right?"

"I don't—"

"No one said you had to like it," Namjoon interrupted, voice a little bit tight. "This is for the
dignity of the frat, all right? Sometimes you need to neglect your own desires for the sake of the
group. It's how shit like this works."

Jimin and Yoongi traded unreadable glances. "The dignity of the frat," Yoongi echoed, voice
hollow. "Yeah. Right. Okay. I still don't like it."

"We're not particularly thrilled either," came a voice from just outside of the ring of light beamed
down from the streetlights overhead. There was the telltale clicking noise of high heels on concrete
and the Alpha Omega Alphas faded into view out of the dark. "But I think," said the girl leading
the pack, tossing her hair over one shoulder and smiling coquettishly, "that we can make this work.
Just for tonight." She glanced over them briefly before her eyes found Namjoon's face. "Kim
Namjoon, right? President?"

Jin shoved Namjoon forward with a finger between his shoulder blades. "Yeah," Namjoon said.
"Yeah, um, yeah. Kim Namjoon. Sorry, Hoseok did most of the planning, I don't—"

"No offense," the girl said brightly, "but historically we've found that men tend to be pretty shit at
this sort of thing so we took things into our own hands a few months ago. You're with Seolhyun,"
she continued, waving a hand slightly imperiously. "Seokjin is with Hyejeong, Hoseok is with
Mina, your Jimin is with Choa, Taehyung is with Yuna, your maknae is with ours, and—"

"Who am I with?" Yoongi cut in.

Her eyebrows went up. "Min Yoongi, right?" A smile quirked at her mouth. "You're with me." She
curtsied sweetly. "Lovely to meet you. My name is Shin Jimin."

From somewhere in the back of the group Hoseok started cackling hysterically.

JIMIN

Everything started fine. It was fine. They got into the party and no one hollered anything rude at
them and they split up a little and it was fine, it was fine, Jimin was actually kind of having a good
time with Choa even though they'd only just met. She was nice, if a little chilly, and he got her a
cup of punch and she smiled and everything would have been fine if Yoongi hadn't been having
such a good time.

They'd split up a little but Jimin had tried to stay in the main room where Yoongi was, just to… act
as backup or something, he wasn't sure anymore. Yoongi hadn't wanted to come and Jimin had
promised that they'd be there to back him up and so he was going to try, but… but now Yoongi
didn't seem to need any backup. He seemed fine. He seemed great. He was laughing at things the
other Jimin was saying and hadn't even looked over at him through the crowd.

"Are you okay?" Choa, curling a hand over Jimin's wrist.

"I'm fine," he said, slipping his wrist out of Choa's grip.

"Jimin—"

"I'm fine," Jimin said again, and the words sounded hollow even to him. Yoongi hadn't looked at
him. He hadn't even looked at him. Yoongi was terrible at acting and he hadn't even looked at him,
had just turned a little like he hadn't seen him at all and laughed at something his date had said.
Something twisted in Jimin's stomach. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I just… I have to find Jin-hyung," he
stuttered out, taking a quick step backward.

Choa bit her lips together for a second and nodded. "I think I saw him going upstairs," she said, and
her voice - it was kind, it was understanding, they were okay. She smiled at him, winking just for a
second. "It'll be okay, Jimin. Go find your hyung."

A wave of shame crashed over him and he reached out - fingertips stopping just short of Choa's
wrist. She blinked, eyes flickering curiously from his face to his hand to his face again. "It's not
you," Jimin stuttered out. "You know that, right?"

She stared at him for a second - then threw her head back and laughed, beautiful and perfect and
delighted, like she was in on some secret he couldn't even imagine. "You're not the only one," she
replied smoothly, voice low and quiet and secretive as she stepped in close against him to murmur
in his ear, "who found a welcoming hand a little closer to home." Then - oh, god - she winked
again, tucking an errant strand of bleached blond hair behind her ear. "Go," she said again.

Jimin couldn't stop himself from glancing across the wide room again in Yoongi's direction - but
Yoongi was facing away from him, paying attention to his date. She was pretty (Jimin couldn't
stop thinking it) with her big eyes and small face and fashionable bangs and her curling smile like a
cat, and when Yoongi said something she laughed, eyes curving delightedly and one small hand
coming up to cover her mouth.

Maybe it was better. Maybe it was better this way. Jimin had never seen Yoongi with a guy other
than him and… and maybe it was better this way. Maybe Yoongi would be happier.
Choa nudged him. "Go," she repeated. "That's her fake laugh."

Maybe it was better this way, but— "Yeah," Jimin choked out, backing toward the stairs. He tore
his eyes off of Yoongi, leaning against the drink table in that easy stance he got when he was
nervous and trying to make a good impression. "Yeah. Thanks, Choa-sshi—"

She rolled her eyes. "Call me noona. Am I going to have to kick you up the stairs? Go!"

He fled.

He'd seen Jin go upstairs twenty minutes ago, apparently absorbed in his phone as he'd climbed the
steps with Hyejeong at his elbow. Hoseok had said it was just for the entrance, really - showing up
with dates to the annual Valentine's Day party was leaps and bounds less desperately pathetic than
showing up alone, after all - but none of them seemed to have had the courage to shake the girls
they'd come with. As far as Jimin knew he was the first to part ways with his fake date and he
found himself wondering in the back of his head how Namjoon and Jin had figured it out.

He could still hear the sound of Yoongi's date laughing in the back of his head (her fake laugh,
Choa had said, but Jimin couldn't quite find it in himself to believe her) and yeah, yeah, okay -
maybe it was better. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe Yoongi would be happier with a woman,
maybe his life would be easier, maybe they should break off what they'd started before things went
too far. They hadn't really told anyone yet (besides Taehyung, from whom Jimin had never been
able to keep a secret - and Namjoon and Hoseok didn't count as having been told, anyway) and
anyway maybe Yoongi would never have wanted to.

Jimin reached the top of the stairs and wandered down the long hallway, trying to remember where
he'd seen Jin go. Some of the doors stood open, some of them were closed with socks or ties hung
on the doorknobs. One opened as he was passing and a guy stumbled out looking much worse for
wear - Jimin glanced in to a bathroom that had seen far better (and probably far worse) days.

He'd almost given up by the time he turned the corner and came face to face with a barely open
door, light arcing out over the carpet through the crack between the door and the jamb. Jimin
moved to walk past it but then he heard it.

Jin's voice.

"It's not like that," he was saying, voice high and shaky and stretched thin. "I didn't… I never
meant—"

"Then why are you here?" A second voice, one Jimin couldn't remember ever hearing before. He
froze, hand hovering over the doorknob. "Why are you here, Jin?"

"I could ask you the same thing," came Jin's voice again after a second. "You're not a student
anymore. You're not an active member of the Tau Deltas anymore—"

"Right, cause you've ever an active member of Beta Tau Sigma."

"I just live there," Jin said quietly. "You know I just live there. You know why I live there."

"Why did you come to the party, Jin?"

Quiet for a minute. "What do you want me to say? That I missed you?"

A group of drunk asshole jocks shoved down the hallway and pushed Jimin up and into the door
and he tripped over himself, pushing it open and practically tumbling over the threshold. It was a
bedroom, small and a little cramped with a bunk bed against one wall and two desks and a wide
closet - like a dorm room, really - and Jin and some guy Jimin had never seen before were sitting
next to each other on the bottom bunk with their backs against the wall.

Jin's legs were tucked up under him and his fingers twisted together in his lap. The other guy's feet
hung off the side of the mattress and he had his hands crammed in his pockets - he looked like he
was about Jin's age, a little taller, a little lankier, his shoulders narrower and his waist broader and
his face more sculpted and less smooth and sweet like Jin's - but they seemed like they knew each
other. Maybe for a while. Maybe for a long time.

"S-sorry," Jimin stuttered, taking an involuntary step back as both of them looked up wide-eyed
and surprised at the sudden invasion. "I - I was just out in the hall and I thought I heard Jin-hyung's
voice and then a bunch of guys shoved me—"

"It's okay, Jimin," Jin said quickly, unfolding himself to stand up and move toward him across the
floor. "Are you all right?"

"This is Park Jimin?" said the guy on the bed behind him, but his voice was quiet and Jin seemed
not to hear him.

"I'm okay," Jimin said after a second, tucking his chin down. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to
interrupt, I was just—"

"You're not okay." Jin tugged at the fabric of Jimin's blazer, mouth twisting. "I can tell you're not
okay, Jimin-ah." He glanced over his shoulder and stepped in a little closer, lowering his voice.
"Do you need to go home? Is it—"

"It's Yoongi," Jimin said, then immediately blushed when a look of confusion and fear washed
over Jin's features. "Hyung, no, he's okay - look, Yoongi and I, we're kind of… we're kind of a
thing—"

"Oh," Jin breathed - and then laughed. "Yeah, I figured that out a while ago."

"But now he's having a really good time." Jimin felt like an idiot, he felt like an absolute idiot, he
felt like he was going to start crying. "Hyung he's having a really good time without me, with that
girl, and maybe it's better this way but I don't know what to do—"

Jin went pale. "Oh, baby, no—" And reached out, sliding an arm over Jimin's shoulders and pulling
him in to tuck Jimin's face against his shoulder. He turned his head. "Hyosang," he said. "Can you
give us a minute?"

The guy on the bed - Hyosang, apparently - shrugged and shoved himself off the mattress,
wandering out of the room to lean on the wall opposite the doorway, pulling out his phone to glare
at the screen. Jin pressed his lips together and pulled Jimin over to sit on the edge of the mattress,
running a thumb under one of his eyes. "Jimin," he said quietly. "Do you really think Yoongi
doesn't want to be with you?"

"I don't know." Jimin scrubbed a hand over his scalp. "I've never seen him with anybody else
before, I don't know if he's gay or if he's bi or if it's just that I'm convenient—"

"He's had a crush on you for two years," Jin interrupted, voice gentle. He shrugged as Jimin jerked
his head up to stare at him, mouth gaping a little. "Don't tell him I said so. I don't think he realized
anyone knew, but we all did. He acts tough but…" He shrugged again, a funny smile playing over
his face. "He's not that tough. He's a softie. Especially when it comes to you."
"He's having a really good time," Jimin said again, quieter this time, voice thick in his throat.
"Without me. And I don't know what to do."

There was quiet for a second, and Jimin couldn't help but notice the way Jin's eyes flickered up to
glance out of the room, into the hallway, at the guy leaning against the opposite wall with his
attention on his phone. "You should try talking to him," he said finally. "Figure out what you are.
Talk to each other. Don't accuse him of anything if you can help it, just… just figure out if you're
on the same page." He bit his lower lip and carefully brushed a bit of pink heart confetti off of
Jimin's shoulder. "It might not be an easy conversation, but… you should probably have it now,
rather than later."

"Yeah." Jimin rubbed both of his hands over his face. "You're sure?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Nah." Jimin stood up and - and maybe it would be better for Yoongi to be with a girl, but
suddenly he felt like he could fight for him. Like he could fight for them. Like he could fight at all.
He glanced back down. "I'll see you later?"

Jin made a face and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It buzzed in his hand until he flipped it
open. "Yeah, I'll…" He trailed off. "No, actually. Um. Tomorrow morning, probably." He flashed a
smile up at Jimin, so quick as to be almost nonexistent. "I have some… I have some stuff to do. I'll
be back later. Find my own way home. Go find Yoongi."

"Yeah," Jimin said. He bit his lip. "Hyung—"

"Yeah?"

"That guy." Jimin stepped in again. "Hyosang. Are you okay? If you need I can pretend to be
having an emergency, give you an excuse to leave - we could find Namjoon-hyung—"

"No." Jin smiled again, even more tightly. "It's okay, Jimin-ah. Really. Go find Yoongi. I'll see you
tomorrow, okay?"

Hyosang glanced up when Jimin stepped out of the door, sliding his phone back into his pocket
and nodding awkwardly. Jimin bit his lip and bowed back, quick and uncertain before ducking
down the hall. Behind him he heard the unmistakable noise of a door clicking shut. He turned the
corner, and—

"Jimin," Yoongi choked out, reaching forward to grip his shoulders as they ran into each other.
"Jimin, shit, where the fuck were you? I swear to god, I turn away for one second—"

"Sorry," Jimin stuttered. "Sorry, I just—"

"You scared the shit out of me." Yoongi leaned forward, laying his forehead on Jimin's shoulder.
"Jesus. It was like halloween all over again. Where did you go?"

"I just needed to…" Jimin trailed off. Took a deep breath. Bit his lip. "What are we, hyung?"

Yoongi seemed to freeze, stopping cold, hands still gripped tight on Jimin's shoulders. After a
second he lifted his head, slow and careful, but he didn't look up to meet Jimin's eye. "What do you
mean?"

"I mean…" What did he mean? "I mean I thought this party would be fun - that this would be
funny, I guess - but you seemed like you were having a really good time with that girl and we've
never - I don't know if we're… I don't know what I am to you," he finished stupidly, words slurring
together awkwardly. He slouched a little in Yoongi's grip, staring down at the carpet between their
feet. "I don't know what we are. Are we dating or are we just messing around?"

"Jimin—"

"Are you gay?" Jimin interrupted. "Are you bi? Am I just—" God, the tears were so close to the
surface. "—am I just convenient?"

Yoongi looked up. Stared at him - glared at him - a look of horror and disbelief and something that
could have been shame flickering over his face. "Convenient?" he stammered. "Jimin, shit—"

"It's okay," Jimin said quickly, "it's okay, I just wanna know, I just wanna know what you are
because I - I like you a lot and I don't want to push anything on you that you don't want and I know
it would be easier for you to date a girl and I know it's weird since we live in the same house and
we haven't really told anybody that we're… that we're whatever we are, so I don't know, maybe
you want to keep it a secret, but I just wanna know, hyung. I just wanna know. So I can figure stuff
out."

Yoongi swallowed. "You like me a lot?"

"Yeah." Jimin closed his eyes, flinching. "Sorry."

"You—" Yoongi's grip tightened, and then he was pushing Jimin around, turning him, marching
him back down the hallway. "You idiot. You absolute idiot, Park Jimin, I can't fuckin' believe—"

"I said I was sorry!" Jimin struggled a little, but Yoongi opened a door at the corner of the corridor
and shoved him through after doing a quick check to make sure that the room beyond was really
and truly empty. "If you don't want to—"

"You idiot," Yoongi repeated, slamming the door shut behind him and throwing the lock before
stepping forward. "You like me a lot? You like me a lot?"

"I don't know—"

"I'm fuckin' in love with you, Jimin," Yoongi breathed, pushing Jimin gently until his back was
pressed against the wall. "I'm in love with you. I've been love with you for - for like a year or
something, I don't know, it's so fuckin' stupid, I haven't told anybody about us cause I was scared
you were just experimenting and, and maybe if you decided you didn't want to be with me it would
be easier that way—"

"So this whole time we've been doing the same thing," Jimin interrupted, staring at him. "This
whole time we've been assuming that we were both about to break it off at any time without
warning."

"I'm in love with you," Yoongi said again, voice rough. "Jimin, shit - just—"

But Jimin reached out, slid his hands over the back of Yoongi's neck, pulled him in and kissed him
hard, forcing his lips apart to lick into his mouth. "I love you," Jimin sighed. "We're idiots."

Yoongi froze again for just half a second, sucking in a tight breath and holding it - but then seemed
to give in. To Jimin. To the kiss. To what they were. "Shit," Yoongi mumbled against Jimin's
mouth, tugging at the knot of his tie, "are we like… boyfriends now or something? Jesus."

"If you want. But, I mean, if you don't want—"

 "Shut up," Yoongi pressed on, tugging Jimin's tie off all the way and shoving it into the pocket of
his suit trousers. "You're an idiot, and we're boyfriends, and I love you, and I'm gonna suck you off
at this stupid Valentine's Day party that I hate."

Unfortunately for everyone involved the smoke alarm chose this moment to start screaming.

Yoongi and Jimin gaped at each other. "Namjoon-hyung?" Jimin hazarded.

"Hell if I know," Yoongi replied weakly, wrapping a hand around Jimin's wrist and tugging him
toward the door. "Rain check that blowjob, a'right?"

JEONGGUK
Back at the Beta Tau Sigma house

"Okay," Hoseok said, lying flat on his back on Jimin's bed, still wearing most of his suit. "I gotta
know. The fuck were you making in there?"

"Tae said it was called a…" Jeongguk glanced over at Taehyung. "What was it again?"

"Flaming Giraffe shot," Taehyung replied happily, pulling a ratty old t-shirt over his head. "It's a
really great drink if you remember to blow it out first before you drink it."

"And if you only make one at a time," Hoseok said. "How many did it take to set off the smoke
alarm?"

Taehyung cleared his throat. "What are doing in here anyway, hyung?"

Hoseok groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Got kicked out of my room. Jimin and
Yoongi are, uh…"

There was a thumping noise, then a slowly accelerated squeaking - like a bed frame being very
carefully wiggled apart at the joints.

"… working through some things," Hoseok sighed. "I can only hope they're not doing it on my
bed."

Chapter End Notes

... please don't be too mad at me for pulling that dirty trick on you with the chapter title
 The One Where Kim Namjoon Makes A Mistake
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

NAMJOON
Saturday Night

The music was so loud, the bass too heavy, the treble line like the singing of a fingertip on the edge
of a wine glass, and honestly at this point Kim Namjoon couldn't even tell if he was still awake.
After stepping onto the dance floor for the first time, he'd only had water (from a water bottle, even
- still sealed when the bartender handed it to him over the counter) but still he couldn't help but
wonder if he'd been slipped something. The room seemed to roll and twist with the force of the
music underfoot, the movement of too many people in a space too tight and too densely packed and
far too frenetic.

He'd escaped to the VIP area over the main dance floor (his connections gaining him access with
only a hand wave and an arched eyebrow) but it was just a wide balcony open over the larger space
and up here the air was hot and for some reason "VIP" still meant a hell of a lot of people,
including… including her.

He'd never met her before but the manager of the club had shoved him in her direction with a quick
wink and a lascivious flick of his tongue and he'd remembered why the hell he was here (to forget,
right? to not think for a couple hours, to think about anything else other than what he couldn't work
through no matter how fucking hard he tried) so he'd walked up and offered to buy her a drink.
And she'd accepted, blinking slowly up at him through long thick lashes, smiling bright red
swollen lips that later she'd wrapped around the straw of her vodka tonic while she'd watched his
reaction closely, like some kind of predatory animal waiting for the right moment to strike.

He'd offered to buy her a drink, and she'd accepted. She'd wrapped her swollen, bright red lips
around the straw and looked up at him while she sucked, long slender throat working, and then
when the song changed and her drink was down to just ice (shifting and tinkling in the glass) she'd
moved over him and straddled his hips where he sat on one of the black leather couches in the VIP
section and bent down into him and used those swollen red lips for what they seemed to have been
made for - pressing into him and forcing his mouth open and invading him, slipping slim hands
between them to tangle with the buttons of his borrowed shirt.

It was useless. He couldn't stop, he couldn't stop her, he couldn't stop himself, he curved up into
her with his blood pulsing and rushing in his veins, felt his body responding, felt his head go hot
and felt his skin tighten up like it was very suddenly three sizes too small and thank god. Thank
god, thank god, thank god he could feel like this with a girl in his lap, legs spread over his hips,
breasts nearly spilling out of the low collar of her tight black corset top, thank god—

This isn't right, whispered a voice in the back of Namjoon's head. This isn't right.

"Stop," Namjoon gasped against her mouth, "god damn it, hold on—"

"Baby," she murmured, pulling away just a little, "don't tell me you've got cold feet? I can warm
you up if you give me just a minute—"

"I need to go," he stuttered out, shifting awkwardly under her - biting back a groan as his erection
rubbed over the curve of her thigh. "I have to - it's not you—"
Her eyes went big. "Baby, you okay?"

This isn't right, Namjoon's head whispered to him.

"No," Namjoon choked out, tightening his hold on the couch cushions and closing his eyes. "Shit -
shit, no, I don't think I'm okay."

NAMJOON
Earlier That Morning

“Hey,” Namjoon yelled through the bathroom door. “Hey, Jin - don’t take up all the hot water,
okay?” He leaned over the sink on his end of the counter and held down his lower lids to inspect
the whites of his eyes in the mirror. Were your eyes supposed to have that many veins? Was that
healthy? Maybe he should actually try sleeping more at night like Jin kept talking about, or at least
have drunk less alcohol at the Valentine's Day party the night before.

The door leading into Jin’s bedroom opened and Jin stepped over the threshold, eyes still mostly
closed, bags under his eyes, pillowcase lines on his face still. “What are you yelling about?”

“Your shower is just going really long,” Namjoon started to say - then stopped. “Wait—”

“I’m not in the shower,” Jin said, and yawned - stretching hugely, the back of one hand against his
mouth. “Hold on a second.” He padded over to the door leading into the room that held the shower
and toilet and cracked it open, poking his head inside. “Yah, hyung - you going to take much
longer?”

There are so many ways to wake yourself up. Some are more effective than others - Namjoon’s
mother had always had a penchant for the bucket of cold water, which was pretty damn efficient.
Namjoon, personally, preferred an hour or two of dozing followed up by way too much coffee.

And then there was the shock and rush of finding out that your (whatever the hell Jin was - his
friend? roommate wasn’t right, they didn’t share a room - the only thing that felt quite right was
spouse and that was just Taehyung having way too much goddamn influence on his thought
processes) had apparently had someone sleep over the night before without you knowing about it.
A male someone, whom he called hyung and with whom he felt comfortable enough that he could
open the door while that self-same male someone was in the shower. The shower. The shower.
Where the guy was probably naked.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Jin hadn't come home with them the night before, right? He'd stayed later at the party, he'd found
his own way home, Namjoon hadn't even heard him come in because he'd been tipsy and listening
to music in his headphones so loud that it could have blocked out just about anything, up to and
including...

“Cool,” Namjoon stuttered, voice pitched high and desperate. “Cool. Awesome. Gosh, you know -
fuck, is that the time? I have to… go… somewhere. Right now.”

“Okay,” Jin replied sleepily, flapping a hand at him distractedly. “Just stop making so much noise.
I didn’t get very much sleep last night.”

“Oh god.” Namjoon clutched one hand to his stomach. “I mean… okay. Yeah. Great, cool, great
talk, I will… talk to you. Later. At a later time. You and me. Together. I mean talking! Talking
together. That’s the only thing we’ll be doing. With clothes on.”

Jin stared at him through sleep-swollen eyelids, lips pursed curiously, red-brown hair hanging in
his face. He was wearing a t-shirt that… fuck, that t-shirt used to belong to Namjoon, didn’t it? At
some point last year he’d gone through that fucking goth phase and cut everything that wasn’t
white or black or gray out of his wardrobe, and Jin had ended up with this one faded red t-shirt with
a stretched out collar that showed his collarbones (jesus christ, his collarbones) and some garbled
English screenprinted on the back. At some point last year Jin had started sleeping in Namjoon’s
clothes and for some reason the reality of it chose that moment to hit Namjoon in the back of the
head like a hammer, knocking the breath out of him.

“Don’t be weird,” Jin sighed, flipping on the tap in his sink and reaching for his toothbrush - but he
winced and pulled his hand back, putting his palm on his hip, on his lower back, and leaning back
awkwardly. “God, my ass really hurts. I think I need to—”

But Namjoon was leaving the bathroom like a bullet out of a gun, barely avoiding falling flat on his
face as he tripped over his ankles, his heart not quite sure whether it was supposed to beat in
double time or stop altogether.

He slammed the bathroom door closed behind him and stumbled across the floor of his bedroom
(why the fuck did he have so much shit on his fucking floor? what if he needed to make a speedy
fucking getaway? did Past Namjoon not have a single fucking ounce of foresight? hadn't he had
this very same problem over christmas?) until he got to the hall, which he careered down wildly
like a ball bearing in a barrel. Down the stairs, through the second story past Jeongguk leaving his
room (prompting a startled "hyung!"), down and down and down until finally he lost his footing
right before he hit the bottom landing and slid the rest of the way down the stairs until he came to a
stop flat on his ass on the floor right inside of the front door.

“Uh, hey,” Jimin said from the floor of the living room, giving him a wide-eyed look. He was in
the middle of what looked like a record-breaking plank. “Are you okay?”

Namjoon clutched one hand to his chest. “I think,” he said, then paused for breath. “I think - I think
Jin might fuck dudes.”

Jimin made a face - a sort of sideways look of disgust and disappointment - and rolled his eyes. “So
what else is new?” He stopped. “Wait. Had you not figured that out already?”

Namjoon made an absolutely undignified noise of confusion and terror in the back of his throat and
threw up his hands in mute desperation by way of response.

“Huh,” Jimin said, face clearing. He lowered himself to the floor with a grunt of exertion. “We all
thought you were the dude he was fucking. I guess not, if you didn’t know about it.” He looked
confused again, briefly. "Hey, have you ever heard of a guy named Hyosang?"

Namjoon jerked his head up, head going blank. "What?"

"Cause Jin was talking to him," Jimin clarified, shoving himself up into a sitting position. "Last
night, I mean. At the party. Jin said he was going to find his own way home, remember? He was
talking to Hyosang, in one of the rooms upstairs. Do you think—"

Namjoon lurched to his feet, feeling the walls of what he thought he recognized as reality
crumbling to sand around him. "I need to go," he said distantly. "I have to go - somewhere.
Somewhere else."
"Hyung," Jimin called after him, "hyung, wait—"

But Namjoon was already gone.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 08:43, Feb 17
Are you okay? You seemed really shaken up by something.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 08:49, Feb 17
Bad news from your advisor?

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:01, Feb 17
fine. everything’s fine.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:03, Feb 17
Really? Because you don’t seem fine.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:07, Feb 17
Hey. Heeeyyyyyy. Kim Namjoon.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:15, Feb 17
… Where are you? Are you not at the house? I just checked all over and nobody knows where you
went

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:21, Feb 17
what are you, my mom? i have other friends, i don’t just hide at home all the damn time

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:24, Feb 17
I know you have other friends, but most of them aren’t up this early on a Saturday. YOU usually
aren’t up this early on a Saturday.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:29, Feb 17
i’m at the library

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:30, Feb 17
don’t text me anymore

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:30, Feb 17
 i mean… unless it’s an emergency

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 09:32, Feb 17
Ahh. Okay. It was dissertation stuff after all. Well, godspeed.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:32, Feb 17
yeah

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 09:32, Feb 17
dissertation stuff

Why the fuck did this bother him so much? He didn’t give a single shit what anybody did in their
bedroom with the door closed. Jin could be hanging from the ceiling fucking sixteen different
women at once and the only negative emotion Namjoon would feel would be jealousy (and maybe
betrayal, since he’d hope that Jin would at least think to share) but for some reason the thought of
Jin in bed with - with a guy stressed him out almost to the breaking point.

He didn’t care! He really didn’t. Yoongi and Jimin had started spending a lot of time on the
couches in the basement and like… whatever, right? Just don’t get any weird fluids on communal
upholstery and have at it. Jin at least was keeping it to his own room.

It was just… weird. It was weird. He’d never seen Jin with many women but he’d always figured
he was just busy. People got busy, right? Hell, Namjoon himself was running on a ten-months-and-
counting dry spell and god forbid anyone think that he… well, fuck, they totally did. To hear Jimin
tell it the entire population of the house had been under the impression that he and Jin had been
fucking for god knew how long.

It was February so it was fucking freezing outside and he’d accidentally grabbed a sweatshirt
instead of a coat (just wearing loose pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt underneath) but still
his face went uncomfortably hot. Again he thought about how Jin had been wearing his clothes to
sleep for nearly a year, again he thought about that stretched out collar, again he thought about the
divot between Jin’s collarbones. Hell, if they were fucking wouldn’t he… wouldn’t he already
know Jin wore his clothes to sleep in? Of course if they were really fucking maybe Jin wouldn’t
wear any clothes to bed at all.

Whoa! Whoa, fuck. Whoa. No. Okay. Back up, jesus. Wrong Way. Do Not Enter.

Namjoon slapped himself in the face a couple of times.

And anyway - anyway - how did that even work? How would it work, even if it were a thing?
Would Jin be the one lying on his back on the mattress, spine arching, or would he be the one on
top - pushing him down and taking what he wanted? Sometimes it seemed to Namjoon like he was
the one in charge, absolutely and incontrovertibly, but then other times it felt like he was only in
charge because Jin permitted it, because Jin just didn't really feel like vetoing, because Jin thought
it was kind of sweet that Namjoon liked to play the tough guy. How would that even work?

For a second he considered texting Jimin and asking whether anyone else in the house had figured
out who exactly was topping between the two of them, but then he remembered that he was
mortified and didn't.

And… fuck. It wasn't like this was a thing anyway. Why even wonder about it? He and Jin weren't
fucking. They weren't about to do anything of the kind. Right now Namjoon was on his way to -
well, the library maybe, he'd told Jin he was at the library and it's not like he had anywhere better
to be - and Jin was back at the Beta Tau Sigma house with whatever mysterious Male Someone
he'd had over the night before. A one night stand? Couldn't be - in his (admittedly limited)
experience one night stands rarely if ever took the time to shower in the morning, and anyway Jin
had seemed so damn familiar with him. Did you call a one night stand hyung? It was weirdly
intimate. His boyfriend, maybe?

But why the hell wouldn't Jin have told Namjoon about his boyfriend? Why the hell was he only
finding this out now? Had Jin tried to keep it a secret from him? Was he just stupid? Had he just
missed every single sign?

Somewhere in the back of his head a voice whispered Jin Hyosang and Namjoon stopped cold in
the middle of the sidewalk in front of the library. Jin Hyosang. Jin Hyosang.

Last halloween Namjoon had thought that the bastard had just been trying to insult Jin by saying
that thing about Jimin being his boyfriend (and what the fuck kinda weak insult was that, implying
Jin was gay? who the fuck cared anymore? and if they did, Namjoon had something to talk to them
about) but suddenly it seemed to take on a vastly different meaning.

He hadn't been insulting Jin, had he? He hadn't. He'd just been trying to figure out the relationship
status of his ex.

His ex. Jin was Hyosang's ex? It made more sense than anything else. The way Jin had tensed up
and gone cold. The way Jin never ever wanted to talk about what exactly Hyosang had done. The
way Jin had cried (just a little) after they'd run into each other unexpectedly. Namjoon had chalked
it up to hurt feelings and Jin being a little drunk but the whole thing made more sense if they'd
been… if they'd been romantically involved once upon a time.

And then apparently Hyosang had been at the party last night. Apparently he and Jin had talked.
Apparently Jin had stayed at the party and then found his own way home and then... and then
there'd been some stranger in Namjoon's shower the next morning, one with whom Jin seemed far
more familiar than he had any right to be.

Namjoon had been in the library for all of forty-five minutes, headphones over his ears, a book of
empty staff paper open in front of him, when yet another memory from earlier that morning came
out of nowhere and shot straight through his gut. What the fuck had Jin said? He'd barely gotten
any sleep, and… and his ass hurt?

Oh, shit. Shit. Fuck. God damn it.

Namjoon exhaled a long, slow breath and leaned forward until his forehead was resting on the
table. In his ears the bass thumped insistently in time with his heart. He could feel his pulse
whispering to him in the back of his head. Why the hell did this stress him out so much? Why was
it so much worse now, remembering what Jin had said and knowing what it had to mean? It had
almost been better wondering whether Jin would be under him or above (not that they'd ever ever
ever do anything of the kind) rather than sitting here, now, in the middle of the library, with his
head buzzing so loud he felt sure that everyone around him had to be able to hear it.

His head was buzzing so goddamn loud he almost couldn't hear his fucking music. He couldn't
think about transposing or key changes or arrangements. All he could think about was Jin's
collarbones under that old shirt (the one that used to belong to him, the one that Jin apparently wore
to sleep), christmas morning when the power had come back on at five o'clock in the morning and
the tree had lit up and Jin had sat next to him in the almost dark and been quiet with him, the way
his suit jacket hadn't really fit Jin's shoulders on halloween.

An hour ago he'd asked himself whether Jin would be under him or above, shoving him down and
taking what he wanted or… or flat on his back on the mattress, spine arching - and now Namjoon
had to consider the idea that maybe he knew. Maybe Jin had told him without meaning to. Maybe
he should have picked up the facts of it a long time ago.

There was so much that he could be thinking about just right then, there was so goddamn much,
but instead he sat there in the uncomfortable wooden chair with his forehead pressed to the table
and all he could think about was some daydream his head had made up out of nothing, out of less
than nothing - some visual of Kim Seokjin flat on his back on a mattress, shirt off, spine arching,
eyes closed and perfect thick lips parted.

Kim Seokjin flat on his back on a mattress and someone else leaning in over him. Someone else
pulling his shirt off. Someone else making him arch up off the sheet.

God damn it. God damn it. God damn it. Stop it, Kim Namjoon. Pull yourself together.

Namjoon scrambled in his pocket for his phone, punched in the password, flipped through the
contacts. Pressed the phone to his ear.

The phone rang three times before someone picked up on the other end of the line. "What?"

"Jiho-hyung," Namjoon stuttered into the phone. "Are you busy?"

Woo Jiho was president of the Tau Deltas when Kim Namjoon had stood on the front porch as a
freshman, heart in his throat, presenting his Fall term GPA like some kind of sacrificial lamb. He'd
been tall and rude and unimpressed. He'd been simultaneously the laziest and yet still hardest
working person Namjoon had ever met, holing himself up in his room for days at a time and only
coming out when he'd finished whatever latest project that always without fail blew everyone else
out of the water. He'd been the one to make the cut and create Beta Tau Sigma out of the ashes,
wielding his presidential power like a scalpel, and Namjoon had followed him.

Woo Jiho been all set to step straight from the graduation podium right into a doctorate, but instead
after graduating he took his diploma and cap and robe and stepped straight out into the Hongdae
underground hip hop scene and never looked back.

Okay, well. Maybe not never.

"It's February, Joon-ah," Jiho was saying, taking one last long drag on his cigarette before
dropping it to the pavement and crushing the ember under his heel. "Don't your existential crises
usually hold off until at least March?"

"It's not an existential crisis," Namjoon mumbled under his breath, ducking his head in awkward
deference and running a hand through his hair. "It's just… just weird house dynamics. I don't know,
I think I just need to get out of the house for a while. A couple hours."

They were standing in an alley somewhere in the middle of Hongdae, one of those hidden-away
places behind a row of cafes and restaurants and night clubs. It had taken long enough for
Namjoon to finish at the library and get across the city on a busy Saturday that it was already
almost five o'clock in the afternoon and the sun was already starting to dip low against the man-
made horizon of the Seoul skyline, arcing its strange February light long and low over the paving
stones and cement blocks and green-painted dumpsters in the alley.

"Don't you have a dissertation to write?" Jiho put his hands up, palms out in a mockingly defensive
response to Namjoon's sharp look. "Right, right, sorry. I get it. Don't poke the academic, right?
C'mon, Namjoon-ah - are you ever gonna drop that shit and come out here and join me in the real
world?"

"Maybe." Last week Namjoon would have said maybe and known it meant hell no - he had too
much to do, he had too much he wanted to do, he was too attached to the house and his classes and
his advisor and (okay, okay) to everyone who lived under the Beta Tau Sigma roof - but now when
the word maybe passed his lips his lungs contracted in his chest in some strange, unknowable
combination of confusion and despair.

Yeah, he was still so damn attached (how had Jin put it, before sunrise on christmas morning with
his face lit up strange by the lights on the tree, eyes exhausted, skin flushed with too much heat?
I'm just still so attached - but he'd been talking about his family, his real family, not some strange
pile of college kids all living in the same house) but now he was also… scared was maybe the
wrong word, but he didn't have a better one. For the last year, two years, three, he'd known where
he stood. The ground had been steady under his feet. Now things were shifting, sink holes yawning
open under him, and he was suddenly having to face down the idea that maybe his reality had
never been quite what he'd thought it had been.

This would pass. This uncertainty, like all uncertainties, would pass into history. He just had to
hold on and grit his teeth and do the work like he always had. That was what life was all about.

"Maybe," Namjoon said again, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

"Buck up, kid." Jiho elbowed him in the ribs, a smirk playing over his face, eyes hooded, stance
loose and lazily confident like it always was. "Where's your swag? That's your best feature,
shithead. The fuck's got you so down? I'm not showing you my new club until you 'fess up."

Namjoon rolled his eyes. "You'd show me your new club anyway. It's an offshoot of your first,
right?"

"Yeah." Jiho's grin showed all of his teeth like a shark. "God, it's fuckin' sweet, man. Got my bro
P.O. fronting it. But seriously what the fuck, am I going to have to kick you out after five minutes
for dragging down the atmosphere? Are you going to spill your guts here or do I have to beat it out
of you?"

For a second he considered not saying anything, then he considered saying everything, then he
remembered that he wasn't sure what to say at all. ("I think the vice-president might be gay and
even though I don't have a problem with that usually it's kind of freaking me out"? "There was
some guy in my shower this morning and I'm feeling weirdly territorial and it's confusing the hell
out of me"? "I can't stop thinking about my best friend's collar bones and it's really getting in the
way of having a good Saturday"? Everything was terrible.) Finally when Namjoon opened his
mouth all that came out was: "Do you remember Jin?"

Jiho's eyebrows went up. "Your boyfriend?"

There was an extremely complicated few seconds, mostly consisting of Namjoon attempting to
simultaneously draw in a choked breath and bark out some kind of shocked exclamation of
confusion and defense and then promptly suffocating in the sudden vacuum. Jiho distractedly
thumped him on the back a few times as he coughed, bent over almost double with the force of it.

"He's not my boyfriend," Namjoon said finally, having regained some semblance of composure.
"He's the vice-president, it's not like—"

"Yeah, yeah." Jiho waved a hand dismissively. "You say that but meanwhile you're the biggest
stickler for the College of Music stipulation in the Beta Tau Sigma constitution out of everyone
who's ever held the presidency, and yet Kim Seokjin is the de facto VP despite never setting foot
inside the Music building—"

"He's been in the Music building," Namjoon muttered darkly.

"—despite never setting foot inside of the Music building except for maybe to bring you lunch,"
Jiho amended smoothly. "He's a good cook, your Jin. Food Science major, right?"

"He's not my—"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Joon-ah." Jiho glanced up at the look on Namjoon's face and
relented, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "Okay, fine, whatever. He's not your
boyfriend. I'm just giving you shit. You gonna spill or what?"

Well, yeah - but what? What was there to spill? "I don't know," Namjoon said. "I thought I knew
him pretty well but I'm not sure I do. The main thing is we've got a new pledge—" It wasn't the
main thing, it was just convenient. "—and he's the first in like two goddamn years or something
and everything's kind of out of whack, you know? We had a balance and now things are off. Like
—"

"I get it," Jiho interrupted, waving a hand. "You don't have to get all philosophical on me. Leave
the similes at home, Jin'll take care of 'em for you."

"I just need to not think about shit for a while," Namjoon stuttered out, knowing deep in his chest
that that was all there was to it. He just needed a goddamn minute, a goddamn minute to be out of
the Beta Tau Sigma house, a goddamn minute to not be a, a parent or whatever. A goddamn
minute to not sit in his room with his head buzzing and his skin too tight and just fifteen feet away
from where Kim Seokjin was doing god knew what with god knew who. "Show me your new club,
hyung. Maybe this time I'll drop out of the doctorate program and come out to work for you as a
DJ."

Jiho perked up. "Really?"

"No. Don't be an idiot."

Jiho had taken one look at the clothes he'd been wearing - the same sweatpants and baggy shirt he'd
slept in, topped off with the first sweatshirt he'd grabbed off the hook in the entryway - and made a
face like he'd bitten into an under-ripe persimmon. "Dongsaeng or not," he'd said, shoving
Namjoon through the back door of the club with a glance back over his shoulder like he was
worried that somebody important would see him with this unkempt hobo, "I'm not letting you into
my club looking like that."

Luckily Jiho kept a room in each of his clubs solely for club-wear (always be prepared, he'd
pronounced, holding up a hand in a boyscout salute that didn't suit him at all) but it still took an
hour and three arguments and one incident in which Namjoon very very nearly (on accident) tore
the cuff of one of Jiho's favorite jackets. In the end Namjoon looked like he was ready to step into
a club on the Saturday evening following Valentine's Day and not quite so much like he'd just
rolled out of bed and into his own worst nightmare.

"I look ridiculous," Namjoon said slowly, adjusting the plackets of his borrowed shirt awkwardly
as he glared at his reflection in the full-length mirror. "Why the fuck do you own a pair of black
faux-leather skinny jeans? And how the fuck did you talk me into pouring myself into them?"

"Okay first," Jiho countered, holding up a single imperious forefinger from where he was leaning
lazily against the wall watching Namjoon's self-confidence implode theatrically, "they are not
faux-leather. A very real cow died a very real, very tragic death to bring those trousers into the
world, and you are showing flagrant disrespect to both that heroic cow's sacrifice as well as to me,
your host and gracious benefactor." He held his hand aloft, palm up, and cocked his head
expectantly.

"Sorry," Namjoon mumbled, tugging gingerly at the belt loops. He was like ninety-five percent
sure Jiho was skinnier than him and he would, perhaps, require engine grease to get out of these
damn things.

"Second," Jiho continued, nodding benevolently and holding up two fingers in a V, "I own them
because I make them look good. You, ah…" He made a face. "I guess you also look good. Better
than you did when you showed up, anyway. And third—"

"Are you gonna tell me I don't look ridiculous?" Namjoon met Jiho's eye in the mirror and arched
one eyebrow skeptically. "Cause we both know that's not true."

"Course not," Jiho snapped. "Of fuckin' course you look ridiculous. You're going clubbing -
everyone looks ridiculous when they go clubbing. It's like the rules or some shit. Leave your
dignity and sobriety at the door. Speaking of—" He slipped his cellphone out of his pocket and
glanced at the time, at the text notifications that had built up while he was fighting Namjoon into
those goddamn leather pants. "Club's opening in thirty minutes. People already stacking up
outside, too. You said you didn't want to think about shit for a little while, right?"

Namjoon closed his eyes for a half second - just long enough for that horrible, ethereal image of
Jin's collarbones to flash through his head again - and swallowed. "Right," he said.

Jiho wiggled his eyebrows and pushed off the wall, wandering over to the vanity and yanking open
one of the drawers. "That," he said coolly, hauling a massive bottle of top-shelf vodka out of the
depths of the drawer and setting it on the counter top, "is exactly what pre-gaming is for."

The club opened at half past six on Saturdays and Jiho kept him in the back until seven, pushing
shots of vodka on him until Namjoon got to the point where he could walk without stumbling but
wasn't quite so steady as to feel comfortable doing anything quite so complicated as, say, chew gum
and shake hands at the same time. Once Jiho was satisfied he held out a hand to help Namjoon up
out of his chair.

"C'mon, Joon-ah." He pulled hard and Namjoon almost fell on his face. "Time to stop over
thinking shit. What do you say we go get you laid?"

Namjoon glanced up, horrified. "Uh - no, that's fine, I don't—"

Jiho rolled his eyes and shoved him out of the dressing room and out into the back corridor of the
club. (Namjoon could already hear the bass of the music from here, rattling the pipes hanging from
the ceiling.) "God, whatever. You're no fun ever since you became president. I at least knew how
to have a good time."
"Yeah, and look where that got you."

"Right," Jiho shot back, pushing open a door into the dark pulsing heat of the dance floor. In his
inebriated state Jiho struck him as no one so much as Oberon from Midsummer Night's Dream - a
fairy king holding court over a frantic, savage revelry, somehow regal and barbaric simultaneously.
His eyes flashed. His teeth flashed. He stood in the portal like a gatekeeper, and held out a hand in
welcome. "Look where that got me."

The music was so loud, the bass too heavy, the treble line like the singing of a fingertip on the edge
of a wine glass, and Namjoon couldn't help but think of how he would have mixed this differently
even through his vodka-induced haze. Even just thirty minutes after the doors opened there were
too many people, moving and shouting and grinding together like a tide, and he had to fight against
the dance floor just to get to the bar, to yell over the din for a bottle of water.

It took half an hour for him to get sick of being slammed into and try to seek out the VIP section -
Jiho had said something about his bro P.O. fronting the club, and had let him know in no uncertain
terms that Namjoon had the run of the place while he was here (no doubt in the misguided hope of
dragging Namjoon down the rabbit hole with him) - finally finding it up a set of stairs and behind a
red velvet rope.

Apparently Jiho had made it clear to everyone else, too, because as he stepped forward and opened
his mouth the bouncer was already twitching the rope aside, letting him through with a hand wave
and an arched eyebrow. He climbed the stairs and paused at the top briefly—

"Kim Namjoon, right?"

He turned, squinting in the dim club lighting. "Yeah?"

A guy stepped forward, a glass of what was either water or way too much gin and tonic in one
hand. He grinned wolfishly. "Jiho-hyung said you'd be by. Looking for a distraction, right?"

Ah. The Puck to Woo Jiho's Oberon. "Let me guess," Namjoon said, ducking into a quick informal
bow. "P.O.?"

P.O. flourished his free hand in an easy, broad movement of illustration - as though he were willing
to admit that yes, indeed, it was he that could be called by the name P.O. if the one doing the
calling was deemed worthy by some infinitely complex maze of fey criteria. "The one and only,"
he confirmed. "If you're looking for a distraction, we probably have something for you." His eyes
dragged down Namjoon's body with a weight that was almost tangible. "What are you into?"

"Girls," Namjoon said, the words popping out of his mouth like a ball bearing in a pinball machine.
"I - I'm into girls."

P.O.'s eyes narrowed. "I was talkin' more along the lines of drinks, drugs, various substances of
varying legality. But yeah, sure. We got girls here. You have a preference for any particular type of
girl?"

"A girl," Namjoon said, feeling like a fucking idiot, feeling like he was about to burst into
spontaneous flames of humiliation, feeling like if he couldn't get Jin's collarbones out of his damn
head then he might have to surrender his physical form to the inexorable tide. "Any girl. I don't
care."

There was a moment of quiet (or, anyway, about as much quiet as one could get in a new club on a
Saturday night) before P.O. arched his eyebrows quickly and glanced over Namjoon's shoulder. He
gestured toward the VIP bar with his chin. "See her?"

Namjoon followed his gaze - there was a woman at the bar, leaning against it lazily with the stem
of an empty martini glass between her fingers. She was built like… like maybe nothing Namjoon
had seen before, all smooth skin and round hips and perfect breasts threatening to spill out of the
low collar of her tight black corset top.

"Yeah," Namjoon stuttered.

"Go," P.O. said, shoving Namjoon forward with a quick wink and a lascivious flick of his tongue.
"Offer to buy her a drink. Get a little bit distracted."

Right. Right. Cause that was what he was here for, right? To distract himself. To forget about shit.
To avoid thinking about everything and anything and especially especially especially avoid
thinking about Jin's collarbones. About how Jin had apparently been talking to Hyosang at the
party last night. About the image of Jin gasping and moaning and arching up off the sheet under
someone else's hand.

It was twenty minutes of awkward conversation before he found himself being shoved back onto
the black leather couch and being straddled (predatorily, he couldn't help thinking with the very
very small portion of his brain which was still getting any oxygenated blood whatsoever) and this
girl's tongue in his mouth, her swollen bright red lips against his own, her breasts heaving as she
breathed him in—

She had his shirt half undone (her fingers quick and far too deft for having sucked down the vodka
tonic he'd bought her as quickly as she had) by the time he figured out what exactly it was she was
doing. His blood was pulsing and rushing in his veins, his body responding, his head had gone hot
and his skin had tightened up like it was very suddenly three sizes too small and thank god. Thank
god, thank god, thank god he could feel like this with a girl in his lap, legs spread over his hips,
breasts nearly spilling out of the low collar of her tight black corset top, thank god—

This isn't right, whispered a voice in the back of Namjoon's head. This isn't right.

Jin was at home. Jin was at home - and yeah, yeah, his collar bones and maybe he'd had sex with
Hyosang last night but who fucking cared - Jin was at home and Namjoon was in a club with a girl
whose name he didn't know unbuttoning his shirt and this was just so wrong. The wrongness of it
rose up in the back of his throat like bile. Jin wasn't just a set of collar bones and a knot of confused
emotion at the back of Namjoon's head (in the pit of Namjoon's stomach); Jin was his friend, Jin
was Namjoon's friend and it wasn't fucking right that he was here under this girl trying to distract
himself instead of going the fuck home and dealing with whatever the hell his brain was doing like
a goddamn adult.

"Stop," Namjoon gasped against her mouth, "god damn it, hold on—"

"Baby," she murmured, pulling away just a little, "don't tell me you've got cold feet? I can warm
you up if you give me just a minute—"

"I need to go," he stuttered out, shifting awkwardly under her - biting back a groan as his erection
rubbed over the curve of her thigh. "I have to - it's not you—"

Her eyes went big. "Baby, you okay?"

He wasn't okay. He wasn't okay. Jin was at home. Jin was his friend, they were friends, and he was
out here - doing what?

Trying not to be in love with somebody he couldn't have, that's what.

"No," Namjoon choked out, tightening his hold on the couch cushions and closing his eyes. "Shit -
shit, no, I don't think I'm okay."

JIN
Sunday Morning

Sunday mornings were usually quiet at Beta Tau Sigma. Jin liked Sunday mornings - he got up
earlier than everyone else every day, but Sundays especially he had extra time to himself. To make
coffee, to sit at the kitchen table doing something mindless like scrolling through his instagram
feed or reading webtoons, to clean up the detritus left over from a weekend of six (wait - it was
seven now, wasn't it? eight, if he counted his houseguest) college kids wreaking havoc in their free
time.

When he opened his bedroom door (quietly, so as not to disturb the man snoring lightly in his bed)
and came face to face with Namjoon's bedroom door he found himself wondering vaguely if
Namjoon had ever come home at all yesterday. He'd seemed beyond stressed out the morning
prior, panicked and practically terrified, bolting out of the bathroom and down the stairs and then
apparently out the front door and into the February cold without anything more substantial than a
sweatshirt. (Jimin had just shrugged and refused to meet Jin's eye when asked if he knew where
Namjoon had gone, and Jin knew better than to press further.)

He'd seemed distracted over the phone when Jin had texted him, and he hadn't sent a single
snapchat, made a single instagram update, sent anyone a text or made a whiny SNS update about
how much work he had to do on his dissertation. Namjoon semi-regularly went into hermit mode
like this, curling up into himself like an exceptionally creative version of an armadillo, but he
usually did it at home. In his room, where Jin could pick his way over Namjoon's cluttered floor
and leave him snacks and bottles of water and sticky notes reminding him to brush his teeth and
get a little bit of sleep when he came out of his inspiration-induced fugue state.

But he probably wasn't dead, right? This just… happened sometimes. And anyway it was entirely
possible he'd just gotten home after Jin had gone to sleep, and now was behind that bedroom door
in bed where he belonged.

Jin made his way down the stairs - to the first landing, tiptoeing carefully past bedroom doors
(Hoseok had always been a light sleeper) - down to the ground floor, turning back to wander into
the kitchen to make himself some—

"Joonie," Jin said, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen. "How long have you been up?"

Namjoon glanced up from his place at the kitchen table, coffee cup in his hands. He looked…
actually he looked practically half dead, shadows under his eyes so deep and dark they almost
looked bruised, bleached hair tousled and unkempt, one sweatshirt sleeve pushed up to his elbow
and the other hanging so far down that only his fingertips were visible under the cuff. "Hey," he
croaked, sounding almost as dead as he looked. "I uh… I actually… didn't go to bed. Last night."

Jin rolled his eyes and moved toward the coffeemaker, pulling a mug out of the cupboard
overhead. "School is important," he said, "but your health is more important. We've talked about
this, Joonie."

"School?" Namjoon stared down into the depths of his black coffee, eyes unfocused and bleary.
"Yeah. Yeah, school. Yeah. My health. I know. Sorry. I got… I got distracted."

"Yeah." Jin set his mug down on the table next to where Namjoon sat, pulling out a chair and
falling into it stiffly. (God, if he never tried doing what he'd done last night again it'd be too soon.)
"I'm starting to pick that up. Did you at least get everything figured out?"

“Listen—" Namjoon glanced up for half a second before biting his lips together and glaring back
down at the table. "—that guy from yesterday, is he—”

Jin glanced up at Namjoon over his coffee. “He’s still here, actually. Did you want to say hi?”

If Jin didn’t know any better he’d think that Namjoon blanched, all the blood leaving his face and
leaving him slightly green around the edges. “Uh,” he said, fumbling with the mug in his hands,
splashing a little coffee on the table, “n-no, that’s okay, I really don’t need to - I mean. Shit.” He
stared down into the depths of his black coffee almost as though it would show him the future.
Leaned back heavily. Ran a hand through his hair. “Is he your boyfriend?”

There was an extremely busy few seconds which mostly consisted of the following: Jin inhaling
and then choking on a mouthful of coffee; Namjoon dropping his mug in surprise; Jin spitting what
remained of the coffee in his mouth back into his cup so that he could cough his lungs out;
Namjoon bolting upward, dragging Jin to the sink, grabbing a glass out of the cabinet, filling it up
with water so hurriedly that most of it ended up on the counter and the floor and down the front of
his shirt; whacking Jin on the back a few times to help dislodge whatever particles of coffee and
cream and sugar might remain.

“Oh my god,” Jin wheezed, holding onto the edge of the counter like a drowning man clinging to a
life preserver. “You thought he was my boyfriend? Oh my god.” Then he laughed, a quick cough
of almost-hysterical bemusement. “My boyfriend. No. Absolutely no.”

Namjoon gave him a wide-eyed look. “Then…”

“Choi Minho,” Jin said, grabbing the glass of water out of Namjoon’s hand and downing it all at
once. “My cousin. I've been planning this visit for like a month. Why on earth would you think—”

Namjoon looked like he was going to throw up. “You said you barely got any sleep!”

“I was expecting him on Saturday morning," Jin stuttered, "but he caught an earlier train and got in
super late on Friday - he texted me while we were at the Tau Delta party - so I had to pick him up
from the train station in the middle of the night, Joonie!"

“And your ass hurt!"

“Oh my god,” Jin moaned, running a hand down his face. “Because I had to sleep on the floor. I
can’t believe—”

“Do you know that everyone in the goddamn house thinks we’ve been fucking?” Namjoon said
suddenly. Then he closed his mouth and went bright red.

"Yeah," Jin sighed. He glanced up at the dumbfounded look on Namjoon's face. "Wait, you didn't?
They talk about it literally all the time. At a certain point I just started tuning it out."

"They joke about it all the time, but—"

 "They're not really jokes, Namjoon." Jin rolled his eyes. "But there's a million and one reasons it
would never work so who cares? They can think what they want."

"Right," Namjoon said stupidly, clinging to the edge of the counter top and staring into the sink
like a man staring into the abyss. "A million and one reasons."

Jin rolled his eyes again and shoved Namjoon gently out of the way to set his empty glass in the
sink. "I'm way prettier than you, to start with."

"Oh," Namjoon said sarcastically, his voice already sounding a little bit more normal. "Thanks.
Throw my looks in my face. I see how it is."

Jin elbowed him and grabbed a towel to wipe up the coffee they'd both spilled everywhere. "Don't
be a jerk. Go get some sleep."

For a few seconds he thought Namjoon had listened to him until he heard Namjoon's voice from
the door out into the hallway. "Jin," Namjoon said.

Jin glanced up. "Yeah?"

"If you were gay—" The words seemed to get stuck in Namjoon's throat for a second until he
recovered. "If you were gay - you'd tell me, right?"

Jin smiled at him. "Go to bed, Joonie. We can talk after you've had some sleep."

Chapter End Notes

See? Everything's fine. :)

 Interlude - February
Chapter Notes

The scene in the middle also occurs during February. Just, you know... a different
February.

JIN
Sunday Afternoon, Seoul Station

"Jesus," Minho said, leaning back in his seat, "that Taehyung… he's a trip, you know that?"

"He's a good kid," Jin said, shrugging. "You wouldn't believe the sonnets he can write. He's a
natural. Sometimes he writes really perverted ones and leaves them around the house and
everybody else thinks Namjoon did it. I've thought about asking him to stop but I just can't bring
myself to ruin his fun."

"Just… damn, you know?" Minho shook his head and laughed, showing all his teeth. "I thought I
ate weird stuff, and he's over there mixing gochujang and melon ice cream for kicks. I can't wait to
tell Mom that somebody has a weirder palate than I do. She'll probably demand video proof, I'll
text you if I need you to record him for me sometime."

"You think that's bad? Namjoon once got drunk and tried making a cake using baking powder
instead of flour and replaced the oil with kimchi base because he 'figured it would work,'" Jin said,
dropping his voice theatrically in a poor approximation of Namjoon's tone, dropping the quotation
marks sarcastically into place with his fingers. "Luckily it exploded before he tried making
anybody eat it. We probably would have all died."

It was late Sunday afternoon and the weekend had been busy but somehow strange, Minho wanting
to trawl The Big City for shopping and food and all of the kids wanting to say hi and Namjoon
mysteriously absent on whatever tragic dissertation business had gotten him so freaked out on
Saturday morning, leaving the house still in his pajamas and apparently not returning until so late
on Saturday that it was really more like early Sunday. That morning Jin had gone into the kitchen
to make coffee and Namjoon had been there looking half dead and Jin absolutely did not want to
know what kind of dissertation craziness he'd gone through to make him look quite that messed up.
(He'd smelled like cigarettes and vodka. Neither of these were good signs.)

"Yeah," Minho said, jiggling his knee distractedly and glancing up at the LED readout showing
train arrival times. They'd arrived at Seoul Station early just in case and now they had nearly ten
minutes before he had to be on the platform, so they'd camped out to share a few rolls of kimbap
and hot canned coffee before Minho had to vanish again through the turnstile. "Yeah, bummer that
Namjoon kid wasn't around this weekend. He's a riot."

"He's all right," Jin said, stuffing a piece of kimbap into his mouth. "He's kind of a goofball once
you get to know him a little, but he's a good president. Takes care of the kids."

Minho fished some kimbap off the tinfoil on the seat between them before Jin could demolish the
rest of it, using it to gesture casually. "Have you jumped on that yet?"
Jin choked a little, a few grains of rice going down his windpipe. (Was he fated to die by choking
today? Well, at least that got him out of his last defense for his doctorate. Small mercies.) "Excuse
me?" he coughed out finally, scrambling for one of the cans of coffee to wash down the food stuck
in his throat. "What are you—"

"Bro," Minho cut in, shooting Jin a skeptical look. "Come on. I have known you literally your
entire life. No judgments here. I just want to know if you've gotten on that yet." He shoved the
kimbap into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully for a few seconds as Jin chugged coffee and
tried not to die. "I mean I've seen you two together before," he went on, spitting a little bit of rice
out along with the words, "and you can't expect me to believe that he's—"

"That he's what?" Jin rasped, pounding on his chest with a fist.

"Ehh…" Minho wobbled a hand in an illustration of vague uncertainty. "Kinda into you, I think is
the way I'd put it."

"Namjoon and I are friends, hyung." Jin knocked back the last of the coffee in the can and set it
down decisively on the tile floor to recycle later, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "So
no, I'm not going to 'jump on that,' thank you very much."

"Bet he'd be up for it."

"I bet he's super straight," Jin growled back, tearing open the second roll of kimbap. "And anyway
I'm really not interested in—"

"Jin," Minho said, voice suddenly serious. Cool. Calm. Careful. "It's been four years."

Silence for a second. "I ran into him," Jin said, keeping his tone light. "Hyosang. The other day.
Friday."

"Did you clock 'im?"

"Hyung!"

Minho shrugged, picking both end pieces of the fresh kimbap up off the tinfoil. "Just sayin'. I
woulda' clocked 'im if I were there."

Jin rolled his eyes, plucking one of the end pieces out of his cousin's hand with an expert touch.
"Don't take all the best parts. And no, I didn't 'clock him' - we just… we just talked. A little."

"You should've hit him," Minho said, stuffing the kimbap into his mouth. "But you didn't. Is that
why you haven't gotten on Namjoon yet?"

"No," Jin said shortly. "Namjoon… there's a million and one reasons why that wouldn't work—"
He was reusing words now, but it was the best he could come up with. "—and anyway I'm not
interested in just—"

"It's been four years, Jin."

Jin glanced up. Minho was watching him, eyes just slightly narrowed. "I'm fine," Jin said - the
thing he always found himself saying to his cousin eventually, no matter what they talked about.
"I've just been busy."

"You can't tell me you don't like Kim Namjoon, Jin."

"Okay," Jin sighed, shrugging. "I won't. You're going to be late for your train if you don't run," he
added, nodding up at the LED readout.

"Oh shit," Minho stuttered, jumping to his feet. "Shit, shit shit shit—"

"Good to see you again," Jin called after him. "Say hi to your mom for me!"

Minho probably wouldn't be that late - Jin hadn't really lied, per se, but the time he'd gestured to
was Time Of Arrival, not Time Of Departure. Once his cousin was through the turnstile he couldn't
come back, and Jin intended on spending the next five minutes doing the following: a) eating the
rest of the kimbap, including whatever his cousin would have felt entitled to; and b) avoiding that
absolutely circular line of questioning that Minho always subjected him to without fail.

There was a million and one reasons why he'd never allow himself to consider Kim Namjoon. A
million and one reasons. He just… couldn't think of what all of them were, sometimes.

NAMJOON
February, four years ago

It took him about five minutes to figure out what he was hearing.

At first he just figured something weird was going on with the heating vents, the echo of something
sighing and coughing quietly bouncing around the library - deadened against the carpet, against the
shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books and magazines and scientific journals. The sound was
almost steady, almost regular, almost spaced at specific intervals like the sigh of breath and it was
that strange arrhythmic quality to it that distracted him, that pulled his focus away from his
textbook with every gasp and hiccup, every muffled sigh forcing his attention from the words in
front of him and up somewhere overhead to the source of the sound.

It was five minutes before he realized that the sound wasn't coming from the vents. It seemed like
it was coming from overhead, sure, but that was just because it was too slight a sound to travel
through the bookshelves and the only clear path for the noise was over the stacks. It was coming
from a few rows over. It was arrhythmic and unsteady, hiccuping and uncertain, and after about
five minutes he realized what it was and… and he couldn't stop himself from closing his textbook.
Shoving everything quietly into his backpack. Slinging the strap over one shoulder and venturing
cautiously out into the wilds of the library, abandoning the empty table he'd finally found after
ages of searching.

It was five aisles before he found what he was looking for - pausing from time to time to wait for
another noise to make sure he was going in the right direction - but finally he turned a corner and
saw another nearly-empty study table. He'd passed by this same table an hour ago because
somebody had already been sitting there, head pillowed in their arms and study materials spread
out like a halo around them, and now… now they were still there, looking like they'd barely
moved. The textbook was still open to the same place (Namjoon recognized the pattern of the table
on the left page) and the handouts were untouched and one of the highlighters had rolled off the
edge and under one of the chairs.

The table was nearly empty, just one person. Just one guy, bent over his study materials,
apparently asleep - except for the arrhythmic hiccuping sound he was letting out from time to time,
quiet and muffled and devastated.
He'd been in more awkward situations, Namjoon pondered dazedly. He couldn't really think of
what they were just then, facing down the sight of a fellow student quietly weeping in the middle
of the basement floor in the undergraduate library, but he was sure he'd been in more awkward
situations. Hell, this was… this was practically normal, right? The guy had probably gotten a bad
score on a test, or his girlfriend had broken up with him, or something else infinitely stupid and
dramatic and, really, none of Namjoon's business at all—

He stepped back to leave and crashed into a very conveniently placed library cart, barely managed
to avoid upending the entire thing over the floor but still contriving to create an incredibly robust
clatter. The guy startled and looked up at the disruption, rubbing at his eyes, his cheeks with the
heels of his palms, and…

Oh. Shit.

It was Kim Seokjin.

"Uh," Namjoon said awkwardly from his squatting position on the floor, picking up a few books
that had flown free of the cart when he'd slammed into it. "Hi. Hey. Hi. I was just… I was just
leaving, it's not - I mean…" He swallowed. Stuck the books haphazardly on the cart. Stood up,
adjusting the weight of his backpack on his shoulder. "Are… are you okay?"

Kim Seokjin's mouth went tight in that way that Namjoon recognized no matter where he saw it, a
tightness that meant I'm trying really hard not to cry and it isn't working very well. "I'm fine," he
said thickly, ducking his head down like he was reading his textbook. He took in a deep, shaking
breath. "I'm okay. It's fine." He bit his lower lip. "Thanks."

Kim Seokjin was… Namjoon sort of knew him. Kind of. Not really. He wasn't in the Music
program but when Namjoon had been initiated into Tau Delta he'd been there like some kind of
unofficial mascot, smiling that tiny smile of his, eyes curving sweetly in a way that was proud to a
point that was almost maternal.

He wasn't part of the frat (he couldn't be part of the frat, he was in the wrong department) but he
ran with the senior members. The vice-president was his dorm roommate and Namjoon had seen
him around, had talked to him, had eaten his food and played beer pong under his watchful eye and
on one memorable occasion Kim Seokjin had tucked a blanket around him where he lay drunk and
half asleep on the couch, murmuring something soothing and gentle and leaving a glass of water on
the floor next to him.

Part of Namjoon was still furious. Still raw and tender like an exposed nerve after everything that
had happened, after the vice-president and the president had gotten in that huge fight and the vice-
president had led what turned out to be a particularly successful coup and the president had used
his power like a scalpel - slicing apart the Tau Delta house and forming Beta Tau Sigma out of the
ashes like a vengeful god. Namjoon had followed the president, Woo Jiho, and Jin Hyosang (the
previous vice-president, now president of the Tau Deltas) had stayed behind and earned Namjoon's
eternal fury.

There was a place in Namjoon's head that associated Kim Seokjin almost inextricably with Jin
Hyosang so when he saw Seokjin crying he was almost pleased, almost wickedly content to see
The Enemy suffering like this - but there had been that tiny smile. There had been all those times
Seokjin had made him food at the drop of a hat. There had been that pride in his eyes, there'd been
that care in his voice, there'd been his goofy laugh when someone said something funny, there had
been that time where Seokjin had tucked a blanket over him when he was drunk and half asleep on
the couch.
Kim Seokjin was inextricably associated with Jin Hyosang in his head, but somehow Namjoon
found himself incapable of harboring ill will toward him. Instead he was just… he was just
worried.

"Oh." Namjoon looked at the floor at his feet. "Cause you don't… you don't really, um. You don't
really seem fine."

"I'm fine," Seokjin said again, his voice very slightly shakier than it had been before. "I… I'll
figure it out, it's not a big deal, it'll be - it'll be okay, it's fine, it's not like I don't have any options or
anything and I can figure it out it's fine, it's not a big deal—" But he'd started to ramble a little bit
now, his voice going tighter and tighter as every syllable spilled over his lips, his eyes filling up,
his shoulders curling in and his fists clenching and his face going pink with the effort of holding in
the tears.

"Hey," Namjoon breathed, stepping forward despite himself. He dropped his backpack on the
ground and sat down on the chair next to Seokjin, one hand reaching up before pulling up short to
hover awkwardly over Seokjin's shoulder. "Hey, hey, it's okay… can - can I get you anything? You
really don't seem okay, I can see if I can—"

"Hyosang is moving out," Seokjin stuttered, curling over tight like letting the words out knocked
the breath out of him. "Hyosang's moving out because he, I don't know, we've - we've been arguing
or something I guess, it's not—" His eyes flickered up and a look of fear passed briefly over his
face. "—I don't know, he said that the president has to live in the house so he's moving out but I
don't have, I don't, I wasn't expecting this and we've dormed together since freshman year a-and I
don't have the money for a single and I really don't have the money to get my own place and I don't
want to live with anybody else and I can't move into the Tau Delta house cause I'm not in the
Music program and I don't… I don't know—"

"Hey, hey—" Namjoon swallowed as Seokjin seemed to fold in on himself in a kind of strangely
damp implosion, hands coming up to cover his quickly reddening face. Namjoon steeled himself.
Took a chance. Reached out - and looped an arm over Seokjin's shoulders as comfortingly as he
could manage. (Probably not very. He was too awkward to be comforting. This whole thing had
been a bad idea, he should have just put on some music and ignored it.) "Hey, it'll be okay.
Hyosang is…" He choked a little, trying to figure out the right words. "We can figure this out,"
Namjoon said instead, avoiding the whole Hyosang debacle altogether. "All right? It'll be okay,
hyung. You'll be okay."

"Just call me Jin," Seokjin sighed, leaning into Namjoon's arm a little. "Everybody does. I don't
like being called hyung by my friends."

"Jin," Namjoon said, every fiber of his being screaming in protest at calling someone older than
him by such a familiar nickname. "J-Jin, it's… it's okay. We can figure this out. You'll be okay."

"How the hell," Seokjin breathed, tipping forward to bury his head in his arms again, face screwing
up and voice thickening, "am I going to figure this out? I can't - I can't do anything, Hyosang
always… I took care of food and he took care of, of money a-and this kind of thing, I don't even
know where to start—"

"Beta Tau Sigma," Namjoon interrupted suddenly, desperately.

Seokjin hiccuped and glanced up. "What?"

"Beta Tau Sigma," Namjoon repeated, voice gaining a little bit of strength as the seed of an idea
took root in the back of his head - growing and unfurling into something that could almost be
called a plan. "It's brand new. There's only like a dozen of us and none of us know how to cook and
Jiho-hyung found this house with a huge kitchen and nobody knows how to use it so we've just
been living off rice and ramen and instant coffee—"

"That's a… a very binding diet," Seokjin said, voice distant.

"Tell me about it." Namjoon shifted uncomfortably. "So - so we need somebody who knows how
to cook, right? And you're in food science, right? And - and I bet I could talk to Jiho-hyung, you
know, and, uh, and you could sleep in my room cause I don't have a roommate anyway and it's not
like, y'know, I don't mind rooming with, with anybody so it'd be fine, right?"

"Right," Seokjin said, and winced a little. "Are you sure?"

Namjoon swallowed. "Am I sure what?"

"That Jiho will be fine with it." Seokjin glanced down at the table, crooked fingers tightening in
the fabric of his sleeves. "I know that… I know that a lot of bad stuff happened. I know that a lot of
people think I was on Hyosang's side. I know that… Jiho might not be fine." He swallowed. "You
know. With me."

"Trust me," Namjoon said, the words coming out of him without permission. He didn't think them
first, he just said them. They needed to be said and so they said themselves. Namjoon's arm needed
to tighten over Seokjin's shoulders so it did. Namjoon needed Seokjin to stop crying, to catch his
breath, to feel better - so he did what he could, and hoped it would be enough. "Trust me,"
Namjoon said again, not knowing why Seokjin would ever trust him. "I'm on your side."

Seokjin bit his lip. Ducked his head. Glanced up - and their eyes met briefly, awkwardly,
electrically. "I…" Seokjin swallowed. "I trust you," he said.

And, strangely, Namjoon knew that it was true.

JIN
The Present

When Jin got back to the house it was already almost dark, the mid-winter sun setting later and
later every day but still sinking early in the evening. The porch light was still off because he was
the one who usually turned it on. The door was unlocked because he was the one who usually
locked it. When he paused in the entryway to slip off his shoes he could hear six different voices
(high and deep, nasal and resonant, lilting with satoori and careful with Seoul dialect) filtering back
down the corridor in the center of the house, moving through the front of the house from the
kitchen in the back.

He closed the door. Flipped the dead bolt. Turned on the porch light, and busied himself with
untying his shoelaces - letting the familiar hum of a fully inhabited house wash over him.

Sometimes he liked to take a minute, to pause and reflect and think back on the different places
he'd been in his life. His old dorm room that he'd shared with Hyosang. The living room at the Tau
Delta house on movie nights. The feel in the air when he'd first set foot on the campus back when
he'd still been in high school, walking in time with Hyosang with their futures spread out in front of
them exciting and mysterious and (most importantly) linked.

But here, now, he took a minute. To pause. To reflect. To capture this moment for future times, to
turn the memory over in his hands in the dark when he couldn't sleep. The warmth of the house.
The coats hanging from each hook. The floor of the entryway, scattered with shoes of all types and
a variety of sizes. The easy, even hum of a fully inhabited house - Hoseok's sing-song satoori,
Yoongi's rough tones, Jimin high and sweet, Tae's deep timbre, Jeongguk low and careful,
Namjoon… Namjoon.

Jin looked up. Namjoon was quiet, and Jimin was saying something that sounded almost…
accusatory?

He stepped up into the dark of the house, stocking feet silent on the hardwood, pausing in the
threshold with his hand on the wall even though he felt like he was eavesdropping. But he lived
here, right? He lived here, and it's not like they were being particularly quiet - honestly, he'd even
be able to hear the sound of conversation from outside the front door. It wasn't eavesdropping. He
was just… he was just listening.

"Wait," Jimin was saying. "Wait. Wait. Hold on. Are you seriously saying that you and Jin-hyung
haven't been dating? At all? This entire time?"

"They act like they're dating," Yoongi rasped, voice skeptical.

"They act like they're married." That was Taehyung, sounding amused and yet somehow still
shocked. "Hyung, seriously?"

"Don't be gross," Namjoon said, voice raised.

Don't be gross.

A million and one reasons, Jin had said in the train station, and Minho had rolled his eyes like he
knew better. A million and one reasons.

"Don't be gross," Namjoon was saying, "Jin - Jin's straight, all right? And I - I'm straight, and we
haven't been doing anything and I don't know where the fuck all of you got this stupid—"

"I told you they weren't really jokes," Jin interrupted, sliding easily into the kitchen. "Have you all
just been grilling Joonie on his nonexistent sex life?"

Namjoon went a little bit purple. "Hey!"

"Hyung," Jimin moaned, turning to hang over the back of his chair so that he could talk to Jin as he
moved through the kitchen. "Hyung, Namjoon-hyung said you two really really really aren't
dating. Is that true?"

Jin opened the cupboard next to the sink and pulled out a water glass, inspecting it briefly for
fingerprints before setting it down carefully on the counter. "Jimin," he said mildly, "I'm sorry to
ruin all your hopes and dreams - but no. Namjoon and I are not dating in any way, shape, or form."

Namjoon and Jin traded a look - brief, awkward, strangely electric - before Namjoon glanced back
down at the table again. "Told you," he said, voice rough in his throat.

Hoseok slapped a palm down on the table. "That's it!" he hooted triumphantly. "I called it. I win.
All you fuckers owe me 50,000 won."
 The One Where Kim Taehyung Achieves Infamy
Chapter Notes

South Korean rest areas are SERIOUS BUSINESS. They're like little miniature malls,
it's great.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"No," Jin breathed, twisting his hands together. He did yet another full circuit around the perimeter
of the van for the fourth time, this time pausing at every wheel well to duck down and check under
the chassis (just in case, even though it didn't make any sense) and inspecting every centimeter of
the top rack for any sign of what couldn't possibly be there. "No no no no no no no no no no no—"

"Maybe he really did ride on top," Jimin said, in a cracking voice, cellphone in hand. "You - I mean
you told him he couldn't, you didn't say he wasn't allowed—"

"Yeah but would he take that as a challenge?" Jin moaned, going around the van again to open
every door and lift up bags and blankets and pillows just in case he missed something the first three
times. "He wouldn't." Then he glanced up, a flash of terror playing over his face. "… Would he?"

"Yes," Jimin and Jeongguk said at the same time. Jeongguk's face twisted in thought. "Yeah. Yeah,
he definitely would."

"Ohhh my god." Jin covered his face with both hands and sucked in several harsh, shallow breaths.
"Oh my god. Oh my god, this is my worst nightmare. Joonie, god, please—"

"I'm calling," Namjoon said, voice grim. He was hanging out of the front passenger side window,
one arm dangling and the other holding the phone to his ear. "It just keeps ringing and ringing and
going to voicemail."

"I, uh…" Yoongi shifted awkwardly. "I… told him to turn his phone down." He winced as Jin and
Namjoon both whipped their heads around to glare at him, throwing up both hands in a defensive
posture. "Jimin was asleep, and he was playing this game and it was super loud—"

"He plays those games all the time, babe," Jimin moaned, leaning his forehead against his
boyfriend's shoulder. "I've learned to sleep through it!"

"Well I didn't know, it was just all—"

Hoseok held his hands up on a soothing gesture, palms out, fingers splayed. "It's okay," he said.
"Yoongi-hyung didn't know. Let's just take a deep breath and calm—"

"Tae is out there," Jin said, voice high and strangled as he gestured frantically at the open road -
cars whizzing by on the expressway, rice fields stretching out in every direction bordered by
rolling mountains - turning in a circle as though he wasn't sure where to go. "He's out there,
somewhere, possibly bleeding to death in a ditch—"

"Hello?" Namjoon waved a hand desperately at Jin, phone pressed to his ear, face pale. "Y-yeah,
yeah - I mean, yes, this is Kim Seokjin's phone, he's here with me, what—"
Jin skidded over the gravel of the expressway shoulder so quickly that he came to a stop by
slamming into the side of the van next to Namjoon. "Who is it?!"

"Yes, I'm one of Kim Taehyung's friends," Namjoon stuttered, raking a hand through his hair,
"where—" Whatever blood remained in his face seemed to vacate, and he glanced up at Jin with
wide eyes. "He what?"

Jin clasped a hand to his mouth and let out a mewl of panic.

"Yeah, yeah, y-yes, of course," Namjoon stammered out, gesturing frantically at everyone gathered
on the side of the expressway to get back in the van. "Yes, it's not - absolutely no problem, we can
- yeah. Yes. Yes sir. I understand." He ended the call. Swallowed. Looked up into Jin's face.

"What," Jin said flatly, face scrunched up behind his hands. "Just - just give it to me straight."

"We…" Namjoon trailed off, staring back down at the phone as if unsure what to say. "We have to
go back."

NAMJOON
About eight months ago

It was August and Namjoon and Jin were the first ones to arrive at the house after summer break
because they always were, so for at least another three days it would just be them puttering around
the house. Namjoon was spending his time making sure that all the study schedules were set up,
the chore chart was ready; Jin spending his time restocking the fridge, making sure all of the
dishes and pots and pans were clean, doing load after load after load of laundry to make sure
everybody at least had somewhere to sleep when they (eventually) started piling in through the
front door, dragging luggage and backpacks and books and leftover tans in from the tail-end of
summer.

Right now the laundry was going and they were both camped out on one of the old couches in the
basement - the summer heat was still hitting Seoul hard, and even with a million fans and a
thousand ice-cold water bottles their top-floor bedrooms were like ovens while the basement was a
cool reprieve.

"We should do something," Jin said after about half an hour of silence, turning a page on the
magazine he was reading. "For spring break."

Namjoon glanced down. They were in one of the juxtapositions that they always seemed to fall
into: Namjoon leaning against one arm of the couch with a book or his tablet or his phone in his
hands, Jin stretched out over the length of the couch with one leg kicked up over the back and his
head pillowed on Namjoon's thigh as he read or slept or played a game on his DS. (He'd beaten
Princess Peach while doing laundry the day before, and now had resorted to a Nintendo-centric
video game magazine instead.)

"'Something,'" Namjoon echoed cautiously, scrolling through instagram again in the vain, lazy
hope that someone had updated since the last time he'd looked. (Ah. Jimin had posted something -
aaand it was a photo of his abs. Yoongi had already liked it, and left a comment reading don't be so
greasy.) "What do you mean by 'something?'"

"I mean Hoseok's aunt owns a big beach house down in Yeosu," Jin continued lazily. Namjoon
didn't have to see his face to know that his eyes were half closed, his lips slightly pursed and barely
parted. His breath had been slowing and deepening almost since they'd sat back down on the couch
after finishing the last of the chores they'd put on their list for the day, and honestly by the time Jin
had spoken up Namjoon had been expecting him to be very nearly asleep. "Just outside of Yeosu.
On the ocean. Last year we just did whatever, but don't you think it would be nice to do something
with everybody?"

"Nice," Namjoon repeated after him, still feeling a little unsteady about the idea. "Yeah, it'd be…
it'd be nice. Have you talked to Hoseok about—"

"He actually brought it up," Jin interrupted, turning a page and licking his lips. "Last year. We all
came back for spring term and he was talking about how he wished we'd gone to her place down in
Yeosu. I don't know—" He shrugged with one shoulder, the back of his neck slipping a little on the
denim of Namjoon's jeans. "It just seems like it might be nice, doing something with everybody
when we don't have to worry about school and grades and projects and whatever the whole time.
We could just relax. Get to know each other, I suppose."

"Team building exercise." Namjoon looked back down at his phone so he didn't have to look down
at Jin's face like an idiot (Jimin had commented back: im not greasy!! im just pretty and Yoongi
had come back with not exactly mutually exclusive concepts there bro - could these two make the
flirting any more obvious?) and swallowed, suddenly incredibly conscious of how his left hand was
resting over Jin's clavicles. "Could be fun. Yeah, let's talk about it. If everybody's in we should
look into it."

Jin tipped his head up, eyes twinkling a little as his mouth pursed in a tiny, funny smile. He held up
one hand, pinky extended. "Carte blanche?"

Namjoon laughed - and reached out, hooking his own pinky around Jin's. "Have you ever failed me
before? Yeah. Sure. Carte blanche."

NAMJOON
March, seven am, Sunday after Winter Term

Beta Tau Sigma had been a fraternity for four years, Namjoon had been in leadership for three
years, and every single time he'd given Jin carte blanche on anything (a group project, a party, a
new pledge, paint colors for the ground floor bathroom) Namjoon had never ever once regretted it.
Giving Jin carte blanche was almost like… like signing a blank check that every bank would take
but he'd never have to work for the money. It was like getting a guarantee for free. It was like -
well, it was like giving Jin carte blanche, which meant everything got done and everything went
smoothly and Namjoon didn't have to worry about any single aspect of it whatsoever.

Jin didn't ask for carte blanche very frequently. As far as Namjoon was concerned Jin didn't ask for
it nearly enough - everything seemed to go infinitely more smoothly when Jin was the one bossing
everybody around. (Or, all right, maybe it just seemed like that from the outside. Namjoon was
willing to accept that was a possibility.) But he'd asked for it (and it had been granted) to plan
spring break, and so it was that on the Sunday morning after Winter term ended Namjoon and Jin
were in their shared bathroom, side by side in front of the mirror, wishing like hell that they weren't
awake yet.

Okay. Fine. Jin didn't give a shit about being awake at ass-thirty in the goddamn morning, but
Namjoon gave roughly five billion shits. His shits, he felt, had been thoroughly shat, and he fully
intended on voicing his disapproval for the umpteenth goddamn time.

"I cannot believe," Namjoon mumbled, "that you convinced me to get up at seven. In the morning.
On a Sunday."

Jin gargled his mouthwash excessively before spitting it out into the sink on his end of the counter,
filling a glass with water from the tap as he glanced up to meet Namjoon's eye cheekily in the
mirror. "Carte blanche," he said simply, taking a swig of water and swishing it through his teeth
before spitting that out as well.

Carte blanche. God motherfucking damn carte blanche. For the first goddamn time, Namjoon was
regretting giving Jin carte blanche.

"Carte blanche," he growled back, snatching his toothbrush out of its holder and sticking it under
the tap a touch more violently than was strictly necessary. "Remind me how carte blanche means
you get to pull me out of my warm bed at seven fucking o'clock on a Sunday morning?"

"Carte blanche," Jin intoned, holding up one forefinger imperiously as he reached for his electric
razor with his free hand. "Noun. From the French for white page, first appearing with its currently
wide-held definition of full discretionary power in the mid-1700s."

Namjoon glared at him in the mirror for a second before popping his toothbrush out of his mouth.
"Did you look all that up," he sputtered, foam flying, "just to shut me up when I complained?"

"Mhm." The razor clicked on and Jin arched his eyebrows coyly at Namjoon in the mirror. "Brush
your teeth, Joonie. It's a long drive to Yeosu and we need to get on the road by eight if we're going
to make it there by dark."

Namjoon glowered at himself in the mirror, toothpaste splattered over the glass in front of him, on
the counter, a little bit down the shirt he'd slept in from when he'd irritably accused Jin of
unnecessary extracurricular research for the sole purpose of shutting down his inevitable whining.

It had been about six weeks since that stupid Valentine's Day weekend, when Jin had (apparently)
talked to Jin Hyosang at that stupid goddamn Tau Delta party and then 'found his own way home'
and Namjoon had ended up making what was possibly the most egregious miscalculation of his
entire unfortunate life. It had been about six weeks since Namjoon had gotten under that girl in the
VIP section of Woo Jiho's newest club, bought her a drink and acted like he wanted it until his head
had shut everything down with the memory of Jin's collar bones filling him up with electricity. It
had been about six weeks since Namjoon had found out that the guy in his shower that horrible
Saturday morning had been Jin's goddamn cousin and he'd had a truly humiliating existential crisis
over literally nothing.

It had been about six weeks, and things were… they were mostly back to normal. Namjoon kept
catching himself watching Jin a little bit too long, thinking about Jin's word choices a little too
hard, avoiding Jin a little more than he ever would have thought of doing before. The first four
weeks had been ridiculous, he'd barely been able to look Jin in the eye, but now things were mostly
back to normal.

Inasmuch as sharing a bathroom, a countertop, a mirror was normal. He'd never thought about it
before (it had never seemed strange before) but with the revelation that nearly everyone in the frat
had thought that he and Jin were secretly fucking Namjoon found himself noticing the undertones
of something in almost everything he did, everything they did. They shared a bathroom in a manner
so incredibly domestic that it reminded Namjoon of his parents. They argued over dinner like he'd
seen his grandparents do countless times. When the kids started getting out of hand at the dinner
table Jin would look up and find Namjoon's gaze and they'd hold entire silent conversations on
whose turn it was to be the bad guy this time.

Maybe the worst part about things going back to normal (inasmuch as all of this was normal) was
how much Namjoon liked it. It was comfortable. It was good. It was different than it was seven
weeks ago - Namjoon noticed, now, every time he saw Jin in the morning and recognized one of
his old t-shirts hanging loose around Jin's trim waist - but it was so easy and solid that they slipped
back into it and Namjoon hated the thought of anything changing any more than it had to.

Somewhere on one of the floors below there was a thumping noise, and a sudden, distressed shout.

Namjoon and Jin met each other's eyes in the mirror instinctively, and it was just luck of the draw
that Jin was shaving while Namjoon still had his toothbrush crammed back against his molars, so
all Jin had to do was lower the razor for a second in order to say, "not it."

"Fuck," Namjoon spluttered, bending over to spit the foam into his sink. "Why do I have to go take
care of this? I thought you had carte blanche. Doesn't that mean—"

Jin reached out and tousled Namjoon's bleached hair affectionately, dropping his jaw to drag the
electric razor over his cheek. "You're the president," he said, raising his voice over the buzz of the
razor. "Take responsibility, dad."

"I am not," Namjoon growled, wiping his mouth on a towel, "their dad."

"You're kind of their dad," Jin yelled after him, razor still humming as Namjoon stomped out of the
bathroom. "You're a good father, Joonie."

Namjoon raised both middle fingers over his shoulders like flags as he exited the bathroom, Jin's
laugh following him out into his bedroom, to the bedroom door, over the threshold into the
hallway. The thumping from down the stairs had mostly subsided, but there was still a little bit of
muffled yelling - echoing strangely somehow. Maybe the bathroom…?

He tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs and skidded to a stop outside of the bathroom door,
staring down the doorknob for a second. The last time he'd burst into a room on the second floor
he'd interrupted Yoongi and Jimin in the middle of what had appeared to be getting to know each
other extremely well, and now there was thumping and yelling emanating from the bathroom and
he couldn't bring himself to open the door.

He raised one fist and rapped his knuckles sharply against the wood, holding onto the slim hope
that he wasn't inadvertently disrupting anyone's morning sex. "Hello?" he called out nervously
through the door. "Is everything okay in there? I heard yelling." Silence. "Guys?"

The door swung open and Jimin appeared at the opening, cheeks flushed and eyes shining and grin
huge over his face. "Hyung!" he gasped, short of breath. (He was wearing clothes, and they were
all rightside out. That was promising.) "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, don't worry about it—"

"Namjoon-hyung!!" It was Jeongguk's voice, strangled and desperate from within the depths of the
bathroom, echoing as though he was shouting into a bowl. Jimin's grin seemed to stretch even
wider, if such a thing were possible - his eyes disappearing with almost malicious glee. "Namjoon-
hyung please save me they're—"

"You signed the contract!" That was Taehyung, sounding slightly unhinged and barely able to keep
his breath from laughter. "You signed the contract, Kookie!"

"What the fuck," Namjoon said, shoving the door open despite Jimin's futile attempts at keeping it
closed, "is going on in here?"

"I want to be perfectly clear," Taehyung announced calmly, one hand on the back of Jeongguk's
neck to hold his head over the sink, the other holding up an electric razor that looked just very
slightly more wicked than the one Jin was using on his own face just upstairs. "Kookie was
entirely sober when he signed the contract."

"I was hung over," Jeongguk moaned into the sink. "I don't think that counts as being entirely
sober."

"He was drunk on his own hubris," Jimin sighed theatrically, pressing one hand to his heart.

"What contract are we talking about here?" Namjoon glared down at the back of Jeongguk's head.
"And please tell me you didn't use any of my bleach for that."

"I bought my own," Taehyung chirped brightly, leaning his weight down a little harder on
Jeongguk's back as the struggling increased. "Kookie and I made a bet, back in January. Whoever
got the best grades would get to do the other's hair."

"No one told me," Jeongguk whined, scrambling ineffectually on the porcelain. "No one told me
his GPA!"

There was a curious tug on Namjoon's sleeve, and he glanced over his shoulder to see a freshly
shaved Jin peering curiously around him into the bathroom. (Ah, damn. Jin had changed into the
Yoshi sweater Namjoon had gotten him for christmas and his hands swam adorably in the over-
long cuffs. Namjoon didn't have time to stand here swooning over how cute Jin was.) "Do I want to
know what's going on?" Jin sighed, leaning around the door jamb.

Namjoon stepped aside, half to make room for Jin to poke his head through the opening and half to
retain a little distance between them. "Tae and Kookie," he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest
as he leaned against the door jamb, "signed a contract. Gambling over who'd get the best grades
over Winter term."

"No," Jin said, eyes going wide as his gaze flickered from Jeongguk's freshly-bleached hair to the
look on Taehyung's face to the clippers in his free hand. "Tae—"

"All the color is temporary," Taehyung said quickly. "It'll wash out in like a week, tops."

"Tae," Jin said again, voice hard. "Tae. What were your grades?"

"Straight A's," Taehyung chirped. "Got a four point oh, just like every term for the last year and a
half."

"And Kookie?"

"Three point nine-nine," Jeongguk moaned forlornly into the sink, his voice reverberating like the
cry of a beagle at the bottom of a well. "I don't get it. I don't get it."

"Tae hasn't gotten anything less than an A since the first - and last - term he dipped under the
house guidelines," Namjoon sighed, scrubbing a hand over his head, raking his fingers through his
hair. "And you signed a contract?"

Jin shoved past him into the bathroom, snatching a small plastic tub off of the back of the toilet
tank, glaring down at it as Taehyung squawked in protest. "Is this green? Are you seriously
planning on dyeing our new pledge's hair green, Tae?"
"Just the top!" Taehyung waved a hand over the crown of his head in a vague illustrative gesture.
"See I'm gonna shave a diamond pattern into the back and sides, and then the top is gonna be green
—"

"A pineapple," Jimin cackled.

In the sink, Jeongguk wept bitter tears of regret.

Namjoon and Jin looked at each other. Heaved identical sighs. Very, very slowly brought their
hands to their faces at the exact same time.

"Carte blanche," Namjoon said after a second, voice muffled in the palm of his hand. "This one is
on you, Jin."

"Noooooooo!" Taehyung stomped his foot, eyes going huge with dismay. "Jin-hyung never lets us
do anything fun, you can't—"

"No, you can't," Jin interrupted, shoving the jar of green hair dye into Namjoon's waiting hands as
he moved past him out of the bathroom. "We need to be on the road in half an hour, we don't have
time for you to finish getting ready and dye Jeongguk's hair green."

"Thank god," Jeongguk whimpered into the sink.

"Does that mean I can do it when we get back?" Taehyung hollered desperately after Jin's
retreating form.

"If you behave in the car," Jin yelled over his shoulder as he mounted the stairs up to the top floor,
"you can dye his hair while we're on vacation."

Namjoon pointed at Taehyung. "If you behave," he echoed, heading back up the stairs after Jin.

Taehyung considered this for a second - then shrugged, releasing his death grip on the back of
Jeongguk's neck. "That's fair," he said. "Thanks, Dad!"

"I'm not your dad!" Namjoon yelled over his shoulder.

"You're kind of their dad," Jin yelled from behind his bedroom door.

"Fuck." Namjoon scrubbed his hands over his face.

He was totally their dad.

JIN

"Okay," Jin said, staring into the back of the van with his chin cupped thoughtfully in one hand.
"Okay. We can figure this out."

"This wouldn't be such a big deal if we just had less junk," Yoongi grumbled from where he stood,
leaning against the luggage piled up very, very carefully under the back hatch - pushing his weight
against the stack to keep it from tumbling out onto the driveway. "Why the hell we got so much
goddamn shit?"

Jin shot him a Look. "Seven people," he said coolly. "Seven days. Unpredictable weather. We all
need clothes for warm weather, cool weather, cold weather - clothes for layering, clothes for
sleeping, clothes for swimming—"

"What if next year," Taehyung cut in brightly, "we just went to a nudist colony?"

"No," Yoongi and Jin said at the same time, not even looking at him.

"Why? It could be fun, and then we wouldn't have to worry about—"

"Tae," Namjoon interrupted, walking by with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, tousling
Taehyung's hair as he moved past. "No nudist colonies. We've talked about this."

"It wouldn't really be a vacation anyway," Yoongi sneered, rolling his eyes. "Hoseok already
basically treats our room as his own private nudist colony."

"Okay that was once," Hoseok yelled from the front yard, around the corner of the house. "And I
thought you were asleep."

"Doesn't make me any less fuckin' traumatized!" Yoongi shouted back, leaning forward. The
luggage shifted dangerously and he slammed backward again to steady it. "Seriously hyung we
gotta figure this out so we can get on the road. There're seven of us now and unless somebody
wants to ride on the top rack—"

"I can ride on the top rack!" Taehyung chirped excitedly. "Couple bungee cords, a pair of goggles,
maybe a helmet with a couple fins for ideal aerodynamic effect—"

"No," Jin choked out, pushing Taehyung toward the van. "You can't ride on the top rack, Tae. It's
not possible. Get in and buckle up."

One of the side-doors of the van slid open and Jimin poked his head out, blinking innocently in the
early morning sunlight. "Hyung," he said lightly, setting one sneakered foot on the driveway to
bend around the back of the van and fix Yoongi with a beaming, crescent-eyed smile. "Don't you
want to sit on my lap?"

There was a moment of awkward tension. "Okay," Yoongi said finally, going red from the ears in
and staring down at his feet.

Namjoon and Jin shot each other sidelong glances and tight-lipped smiles, the matching
expressions on their faces carefully blank and yet somehow still carrying a wealth of information.
"I guess that settles it," Jin sighed, rubbing his hands together in a gesture of both satisfaction at a
problem solved as well as a form of washing his hands of the situation. "Let's just… let's just get
going, all right? Has everyone gone to the bathroom?"

"Kookie's still in there," Taehyung said, hauling himself up into the van as the rest of the group
chorused yeses in long-suffering voices. "He said he'd be down in a second."

Jin glanced up at the sky. It was late March now and the weather had started warming up already,
the breeze bringing only a hint of chill and the soft, crisp smell of new growth. The house had been
relatively calm over the past month even with the addition of a seventh inhabitant taking over a
third of the space in what had been Jimin and Taehyung's double room - Jeongguk seemed to fold
in naturally with the rest of them so gently and effectively that now Jin would be hard-pressed to
think of what the frat would be like without him. Namjoon had been strange for a while in a way
that Jin had originally chalked up to dissertation stress until he'd had an exceptionally successful
meeting with his advisor and still had bailed on their weekly movie night - claiming that he had too
much work to do even as he couldn't quite manage to look Jin in the eye as he spoke.
Besides that strange imbalance everything seemed… it was fine. It was good. Back in August
Namjoon had given him carte blanche to plan this spring break trip and (as it had every time
Namjoon had given him carte blanche) it had gone perfectly swimmingly. Every detail was
outlined, every tragedy en potentia preemptively circumvented, a first aid kit tucked under every
seat and everyone's phone fully charged. Jin had personally overseen the packing of every piece of
luggage just in case and now, finally, finals were over and grades were in and everybody had
retained their GPA and they were ready.

"Just come out of the bathroom," Hoseok was yelling, voice reverberating oddly as he shouted in
through the front door from where he (presumably) stood on the front porch. "Kookie, seriously,
we gotta go—"

"Maybe you should sit on my lap," Yoongi said suddenly, making one last shove against the
stacked up luggage and scrambling for the back hatch to slam it down before anything fell out. "I
mean, I'm older than you, so—"

"I'm heavier than you, babe," Jimin interrupted easily. "Don't worry, it'll be okay. And we can
switch if it gets uncomfortable."

Yoongi tightened up for half a second, hand hovering of the latch. "Y-yeah," he said. "That's true.
Um."

"Babe?" Jin mouthed almost silently to Namjoon, ducking around him to shove another water
bottle into the middle console in the front. Namjoon just blushed and shrugged a little.

Hoseok skidded around the side of the house, looking gleeful and wild-eyed. "Guys," he hissed.
"You're not gonna believe this. This is so fuckin' good. Jeongguk's hair is—"

"—bright yellow," Jin said over his shoulder. Hoseok deflated slightly. "We already know. Get in
the van, Hoseok-ah."

"Wait," Yoongi sputtered, hanging from the open side door of the van. "What do you mean his
hair's bright yellow?"

Jeongguk shoved the hood of his red sweatshirt up over his head sullenly. "I lost a bet," he
muttered, pushing past Yoongi to slide into the van.

"And you look beautiful," Taehyung cooed sweetly.

"Whatever." Jeongguk buckled his seatbelt and then pulled the drawstrings on his hood as tight as
they would go so only the tip of his nose poked out.

Jin and Namjoon traded a look. "Carte blanche," Namjoon said.

Jin bapped him on the arm. "That's not applicable here. Get in the van."

Taehyung leaned forward. "Is Namjoon-hyung gonna drive this time?"

The chorus of "no"s was deafening.

JEONGGUK
Jeongguk was calm. Cool. Relaxed. He could do this. This? This was nothing. This was a piece of
cake, no problem, he could do this shit with his eyes closed. He could do this one-handed. He
could do this for hours. This was… this was…

"Motherfucking cock bag shit fuck asshole shitting fuck," he hissed, as the plush toy dropped sadly
out of the claw. "I don't get it. I don't get it, this thing is so fucking stupid a child could do this—"

"Well there's your problem," Taehyung commented lightly, pulling his grape-flavored lollipop out
of his mouth as he watched Jeongguk shove another thousand won coin into the slot and start up
the game again. "Yoongi-hyung says you're a fetus. Pretty sure fetuses don't really got the fine
motor control required by this kinda complex machinery."

"I'm not in the mood, Tae. God damn it—" The game sang a sad little song as the prize tumbled
once more from the clutches of the claw.

"There are kids around, Kookie. You shouldn't swear so much."

They'd been on the road for nearly three hours already (the traffic out of Seoul had been abysmal)
and were now in the arcade of a massive, sprawling rest area about a few kilometers north of
Nonsan. Namjoon had taken the opportunity to stock up on caffeinated drinks, Hoseok had taken
this opportunity to find a Dance Dance Revolution machine and completely monopolize it, Yoongi
and Jimin had apparently taken the opportunity to have twenty minutes in the van by themselves,
and Jin had apparently taken the opportunity to eat absolutely every single thing on the food court
menu. He ate quickly (Namjoon sitting across the table from him reading a book and reminding
him what time it was every once in a while) but still both Taehyung and Jeongguk knew that it
would be a while before they'd be back on the road.

Up until this moment Jeongguk had firmly believed that he could beat any game. Give him enough
time, enough coins, enough practice, and nothing could withstand him. Some games took longer
than others, sure, but he'd never yet come up against a game that he hadn't been able to best after
only a few tries.

Maybe losing that bet against Taehyung had shaken his confidence? Maybe he'd never be the same
again? Maybe this was all Taehyung's fault, and now Jeongguk would be relegated to being simply
above average for the rest of his miserable—

"Cocking fuckhole shit," Jeongguk growled under his breath, thumping the control panel of the
game as the prize dropped, yet again, far short of its intended destination.

"Bro, seriously." Taehyung rolled his eyes meaningfully and shifted his lollipop from one cheek to
the other. "You're gonna get us kicked out. Also you really gotta stop spending so much time with
Yoongi-hyung, I don't think even he would come up with this kind—"

"This game sucks," Jeongguk said, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's rigged. It's rigged! It's
gotta be rigged, there's no fucking way—"

"I'll try it," Taehyung interrupted smoothly, tugging Jeongguk gently away from the game. "Which
prize you want? I'll see if I can get it for you."

"Good fucking luck." Jeongguk glanced up at the look on Taehyung's face - hopeful, worried, a
little bit contrite. Marred only slightly by the vaguely pornographic bulge in his cheek from the
lollipop. "I - I don't care. It's stupid."

"I'll see if I can getcha the Iron Man," Taehyung said smoothly, pushing Jeongguk back towards
the cafeteria area of the rest stop. "Go chill out with mom and dad for a bit. A'right?"

"Okay," Jeongguk mumbled sullenly under his breath, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets.
"You're not gonna get it," he yelled over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Taehyung called back, grin stretching wide over his face as he slipped a coin into the
machine and wiggled the joystick experimentally. "But I'll try anything for you, Kookie!"

They'd been on the road for twenty minutes before Jeongguk looked up from his phone. Blinked.
Glanced over the inhabitants of the van… "Where's Tae?" he said suddenly.

"Tae's asleep in the back," Jin yelled over his shoulder, raising his voice over the music.

Jeongguk glanced over at the empty seat next to him. "No he isn't. I'm the only one back here."

It was a little bit impressive, how quickly Jin slammed on the brakes and swerved through four
lanes of almost stop-and-go expressway traffic to pull off onto the shoulder. He stopped the car,
gravel dust flying up in clouds around them. Shifted the van into park. Threw the emergency brake.
Turned off the engine, shutting the music off with it. Gripped the steering wheel tight. "Jeon
Jeongguk," he said, voice calm in the sudden quiet of the stopped vehicle. "I'm going to need you
to put that by me one more time."

"He's not back here," Jeongguk repeated, leaning over the bucket seat in front of him where Hoseok
sat, snoring languidly. "I don't think he's in the van."

Jin's hands tightened on the steering wheel even harder, if such a thing were even possible.
Namjoon leaned forward hesitantly. "Kim Namjoon," Jin snapped, "if you dare utter the words
'carte blanche'—"

"Nah," Namjoon stuttered quickly. "My phone's dead, I was gonna see if I could use yours to call
him. We probably just… I don't know…"

"He's dead," Jin said in a high voice, unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing open the door on his
side of the van. "We're going on vacation and I have killed Kim Taehyung!"

"Jin, god damn it, nobody's dead—"

"Then where is he, Namjoon?" Jin started walking desperately around the van, wringing his hands
together. "This is terrible. This is terrible. This is the worst. Oh my god. No. No no no no no…"

It was another five minutes before Jin determined beyond the shadow of a doubt that Taehyung
really truly wasn't anywhere in, on, or under the van, and further two minutes before his phone rang
and Namjoon picked up so hurriedly that he nearly dropped it.

"We have to go back," Namjoon said, after ending the call.

"Oh god," Jin moaned, bending over almost double. "Was that the hospital? Is he dead? Was he on
the side of the road?! Did he really try riding on the—"

"We left him behind," Namjoon interrupted, passing Jin's phone through the window to him. "At
the rest area. He's been in the arcade for the last thirty minutes." His gaze flickered awkwardly up
to Jeongguk's face. "He's apparently been, um, banned. For life."
"Oh god," Jeongguk said, feeling all the blood rush out of his face. Tae had said he was gonna get
him that prize, right? The Iron Man plush toy? "What did he do?!"

"I think," Namjoon said carefully, voice raised over the din of everyone piling back into the van, "it
might be easier to explain what he didn't do."

The van tires squealed on the pavement as Jin slammed on the brakes to swing around the front of
the rest stop building. Namjoon was unbuckled and opening his door before the van had even quite
stopped moving, tumbling out onto the asphalt desperately. "Tae!" he yelled. "Jesus christ, what
the hell—"

Kim Taehyung: writer of sonnets, master of the theater, reciter of Shakespearian monologues, bane
of Kim Seokjin's existence… and, apparently, unexpected crane game genius, stood at the curb
with his arms piled high with cheap plush toys and knick knacks and, notably, a plush Iron Man,
perched sweetly atop the mountain.

He stuck his head around the stack of junk and smiled brightly. "I got everybody presents!" he
chirped.

Jin rested his forehead against the steering wheel. "We are never," he said in a calm voice, as
Taehyung loaded his wealth into the van, "allowing Tae to play a crane game ever again."

"Definitely not there," Taehyung said, squishing himself in next to Jeongguk in the back. "They
told me I couldn't come back if I didn't stop winning all the prizes, even though I'm pretty sure
that's literally the point of the game." He glanced up at Jeongguk, a hopeful look flitting over his
face as he held up the plush Iron Man toy with a delicacy bordering on reverence. "Gotcha the Iron
Man, Kookie. Sorry about your hair."

Jeongguk stared at him. Reached forward carefully. Took the plush toy out of Taehyung's hand and
stared down at it, feeling… he had no clue what he was feeling, actually. "It's cool," he said
distantly. "Thanks. I mean… for the toy."

Taehyung elbowed him good-naturedly as Jin started up the van again. "I said, didn't I?" He
winked. "Anything for you."

NAMJOON
After sunset

Namjoon woke up slowly, gently, easing his way up out of sleep and into consciousness like a
diver careful not to rise too quick. With his eyes still closed he couldn't quite tell where he was for
a few seconds but for some reason he didn't really mind, like wherever he was he knew he was
probably safe and okay and not about to hurtle off of a cliff. In his right ear he could hear a kind of
muffled roaring, skittering and inconsistent almost like the sound of the ocean. In his left ear he
could hear music, but still half asleep and dreaming he couldn't quite place it despite knowing
somewhere deep in his gut that he'd heard the song before.

When he opened his eyes the first thing he noticed was that he was still wearing his sunglasses.
He'd fallen asleep against the passenger door, head pillowed on his arm along the window ledge,
and he was still wearing his sunglasses so he couldn't tell if it was really night or if he was just
being stupid. Jin was driving, slouching a little in the driver's seat, light reflecting strangely off his
face.

The sound in his right ear was the sound of the freeway as they traveled along at 105kph. The
sound in his left ear was Jin, singing along under his breath as he drove to whatever song it was
that Namjoon recognized but couldn't quite place.

He didn't mean to pretend to be asleep still, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Couldn't bring
himself to straighten up, and stretch, and yawn and groan and ask what time it was. The car was
silent except for the sound of the music playing quietly over the speakers (and Jin murmuring the
lyrics just under the volume at which the words would become intelligible) and Namjoon knew
that he and Jin were the only ones awake.

But god - what the hell song was it that was playing over the speakers? It sounded so damn
familiar, but the verse was too quiet and indistinct to work out. Maybe once the chorus started he'd
be able to—

Oh. Of course. It was Busker Busker. Namjoon should have known it was Busker Busker. Jin was
never too strict about the Driver Picks The Music rule that Namjoon had grown up with, but with
everyone else asleep and no one to push their own music choices Jin would put on Busker Busker,
keep the volume low enough that no one would wake up, and listen to it absent-mindedly until
somebody woke up and demanded they switch over to Taeyang or IU or something instead.

Second album. Second track. Too Much Regret, and Jin was singing along to the chorus, voice low
and quiet under the muffled roar of the freeway outside of the confines of the van.

He was a little flat. A little too nasal. If he practiced a little he could be really, really good but as it
was he was a little flat and a little nasal and his voice wasn't quite low enough to hit all of the
notes, but he sang along anyway in a distracted sort of way, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
Namjoon couldn't remember ever hearing Jin sing before, (like I would try singing in a house full
of Music majors, Jin had scoffed god knew how many months ago, you'd all skin me alive the
second I opened my mouth), but Jin's voice sounded like him - a little thin and a little awkward but
utterly and completely heartfelt and sincere.

It wasn't until the track wound down and Jin turned his head and reached up with his right hand to
hit the button to skip back and replay the track that Namjoon realized that the reason the light was
reflecting so strangely off Jin's face was because his face was wet. His face was wet. He'd been
crying a little - he was still crying a little - and the light was reflecting strangely off of the wet
tracks the tears had left on his cheeks. His eyes were a little bit red and a little bit puffy but he
wasn't all messed up; he hadn't been sobbing. Just crying a tiny bit, tears coming up of their own
accord as he listened to Too Much Regret over and over and over.

Namjoon hadn't meant to pretend to be asleep. He hadn't meant to, but the sunglasses over his eyes
hid the truth of it and so he sat across the console from Jin and watched him drive and cry just a
little bit and sing along for two whole run-throughs of the track (each time skipping back to the
beginning again before the third track on the album could queue up) before Namjoon couldn't take
it anymore.

The track wound down for the fourth time and Jin turned his head and reached up with his right
hand to hit the button to skip back and replay the track - but this time Namjoon reached out too.
Reached out and wrapped his fingers around the back of Jin's hand, tugging it gently back down to
rest on the gear shift again.

"It's okay," Namjoon said, his voice hoarse and rusty with sleep. "It's okay. What happened
happened. Don't beat yourself up over it."

Love Is Timing finally had the chance to queue up. Jin's left hand tightened on the steering wheel.
"How long have you been awake?"

"Just a bit," Namjoon lied. He sighed and settled in against his arm again, closing his eyes. "It
wasn't your fault."

There was quiet for a minute, Busker Busker washing over them. (If only I was there when I should
have been there.) "You don't know that. You weren't there."

"Nah." Namjoon wasn't sure what he'd thought Jin had been crying about, honestly. "Didn't have to
be. It wasn't your fault."

Jin sighed and rubbed the back of his left hand over his face, quick and stuttered to get back to the
steering wheel again. "Your hand is cold."

"Mm." Namjoon tightened his grip over the back of Jin's hand, just for a second. Just a quick, short
increase in pressure. "Sorry."

"… It's okay. Go back to sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there." Jin glanced over. "And take
your sunglasses off. The sun went down an hour ago, and if you sleep with them on you'll get a
headache."

"Yeah," Namjoon sighed sleepily, slipping them off his face with his free hand before slumping
back over onto the window ledge. "Thanks, babe."

"… Y-yeah. No problem."

"We're here."

It was Jin's voice, sounding thin and exhausted. Namjoon opened his eyes and jerked upward,
groaning as his neck creaked in protest. "What?"

"We're here," Jin repeated. He was slumped over the steering wheel, one hand still resting on the
keys in the ignition, the engine turned off. "I've been driving for eight hours. We're here."

"Jesus." Namjoon rubbed both hands over his face and tried desperately to blink awake before
turning on the overhead light and reaching back to jab Hoseok in the knee. "Yah. Hoseok. We're
here. Get everybody out."

"Nnk."

"Hoseok. I'm serious, wake up. You're the only one with keys to the place."

Hoseok sighed and opened one eye. "Shit. The fuck time is it?"

"Almost ten," Jin sighed, voice muffled in his arms.

"Damn. A'right, gimme just a second…"

Namjoon reached over and rubbed a hand tentatively over Jin's broad shoulders. Jin's muscles
seemed to loosen a little under the pressure of his palm and he sighed, slouching a little more into
the steering wheel. "Jin," Namjoon murmured quietly, leaning over the console so Jin could hear
him even over the ever-increasing din of a van full of college kids waking up and getting out and
getting unloaded. "Jin, you okay?"

"I'm really tired," Jin breathed, voice muffled and slurred where his mouth was smashed against his
arm. "Today was…" He groaned and shook his head, flopping it back and forth. "Today was long,
Joonie. Really, really long."

"Yeah." Namjoon squeezed Jin's shoulder reassuringly before reaching down and unbuckling both
of their seatbelts, first Jin's then his own. "Let's get you inside and get you to bed, all right?"

Hoseok was standing on the driveway when Namjoon opened the front passenger door, stretching
hugely as he yawned. "Hyung," Hoseok said through the yawn, reaching into his pocket for the
keys and tossing them underhand into Namjoon's waiting palms. "Go ahead and get Jin-hyung
inside. Hallway to the right and all the way back, last door on the left."

"Don't call me hyung," Namjoon said automatically, glancing down at the keys in his hand.
"Thanks. When I've got him all settled, I'll come out and—"

"Nah," Yoongi interrupted, voice still thick with sleep as he tumbled out of the van into the chilly,
sea-breeze night. "Just go inside and get him to bed. Don't worry about the luggage. We're gonna
make Tae bring all of it in." There was a squawk from the back of the van. "Shut up, kid - if it
weren't for you Jin-hyung wouldn't be the walking dead right now. Now get your ass out here and
get ready to carry some shit." He glanced up to Namjoon, eyes flickering to where Jin was still
slumped over the steering wheel. "Just…" He bit his lip for a second. "Take care of him, all right?"
A shrug. "Wouldn't be right if we let our mom get sick on the first day of vacation."

"Right," Namjoon said stupidly, head still working slow with sleep. He looked down at the keys in
his hands. Up into the night sky - billions of stars blinking back at him out here in the relative dark
outside of Seoul - then into the van, where Jin looked like he had perhaps already fallen asleep.

He hadn't had to help Jin very often like this. Namjoon wasn't sure how many times Jin had helped
hoist him into bed (or onto a couch, or at least into a more comfortable position slumped over his
homework) but Jin was responsible. He went to bed on time. He knew his alcohol tolerance and
never drank too much. He took care of himself for the express purpose of being certain he could
take care of everyone else and Namjoon couldn't remember the last time he'd had to help Jin get to
bed.

Jin was thinner than he was, broad shouldered, sure, but slender waisted, so initially Namjoon just
figured he could try hauling him bodily out of the van - but it turned out that Jin was heavier than
he looked (toned lines of firm muscle under Namjoon's fingertips, under Jin's sweater, under the
cotton of Jin's undershirt) and Namjoon had his work cut out for him. "Jin," he said quietly. Jin
was laying on his shoulder, still halfway in the van. "Jin, you gotta - you gotta wake up a little so I
can get you to bed."

"Scoundrel," Jin slurred, bapping him blearily with a loose fist even as he slipped the rest of the
way out of the van. His sneakers found uneasy purchase on the concrete driveway and he leaned
his weight against Namjoon's side, burying his forehead in Namjoon's throat. "Think I'm easy.
Goin' to bed, jus' like that. With you." He laughed, goofily, half asleep and stupid into Namjoon's
chest. "Takes a lot more'n that to get me to bed, Joonie."

"Gotta buy you dinner first, right?" Namjoon hefted Jin's weight and half-dragged, half-walked
him up the pathway to the front door of the massive, sprawling vacation house. (He couldn't even
see the whole thing in the dark like this, but he was already feeling a little intimidated.) "Maybe the
third date I can get you to bed?"
"We're married," Jin sighed, hand tightening in Namjoon's sleeve. Namjoon struggled with the key
in the lock for a second before it clicked, the door opening. "I guess I can let you take me to bed.
Y'gotta be gentle. I'm delicate." He waved a hand languidly as Namjoon tugged him up over the
threshold, leaning him against the wall to kneel down and take off both their shoes. "It's been a
while. An' I've seen your dick."

Namjoon ducked his head, feeling heat creep over the back of his neck. "You're asleep, Jin. Stop
talking before you say anything you're gonna regret, all right?"

Jin slipped forward into his arms as Namjoon stood up again. "Yeah," Jin sighed against his throat.
"Thanks, babe."

Namjoon froze, just for a second - half a second, not even half a second - before tugging Jin up into
the darkness of the house and down the hallway to the right. "Hoseok said it was the last door on
the left. Jesus, where's the light switch, it's dark as shit in here—"

He found it after a second, but even in the light he wasn't sure how he managed to get Jin all the
way down the almost infinitely long hallway and through the door and across the floor and onto
the bed. (There was just one bed in here, king size - he assumed he'd be sleeping somewhere else,
but god knew with these little shits. Ever since Jimin had found out that he and Jin really truly
weren't fucking it seemed like the kid had made it his own personal divine quest to get them
together. Namjoon wouldn't put it past him to rally with Hoseok to put them into a bedroom
together with only one bed.)

Jin sat at the end of the mattress, slumped over with his eyes closed. "I'm tired," he said, voice
thick.

"I know." Namjoon turned down the blankets and piled a couple pillows up. "Give me a second.
Can you take your sweater off?"

Jin flapped his hands uselessly, head rolling back on his shoulders. His hands, god - they swam in
the long cuffs, fingertips poking out adorably. "I'm tired," he repeated, a whine in his voice.
"Joonie…"

"Yeah, yeah." Namjoon pulled Jin up onto his feet and tugged the sweater up and over and off,
tossed it carefully onto an armchair in one corner of the room. "Take your jeans off and get in bed."
Jin blinked sleepily and plucked at Namjoon's shirt, biting his lower lip. "Jin, come on."

"I miss you," Jin slurred. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on Namjoon's shoulder.
"You've been… you've been really distant, Joonie. I dunno what I did." He looped his arms around
Namjoon's waist. "I dunno what I did."

"You didn't…" Namjoon cleared his throat. Patted Jin awkwardly on the shoulder. "You didn't do
anything. School's just been weird. Sorry I've been distant. Get into bed, I have to go help unload
the—"

"I miss you," Jin said again, his voice even more quiet and distant and asleep. He tugged on
Namjoon's waist and even this, even with his muscles weak and loose, even here Namjoon was
powerless to resist as Jin dragged him awkwardly around the side of the mattress. "I wanna sleep.
Don't leave."

"Jin—"

Jin tipped back onto the mattress, tugging Namjoon down with him - he barely caught his weight
 on the edge of the mattress with one knee to keep from laying down flat on Jin's chest. "Don't
leave," Jin said again.

Namjoon swallowed. "Jin, I have to help with—"

But then Jin's eyes opened - and he looked awake. He almost looked awake, and lucid, and sincere.
Hands tightening on the fabric over Namjoon's shoulders. Tongue flickering out to wet his lips,
pink and swollen and perfect. "Don't leave," he said a third time.

Closed his eyes.

Tightened his grip on Namjoon so that he had to roll creatively in order to avoid crushing Jin under
his weight.

Turned over onto his side, threw one arm over Namjoon's chest, and started to snore very, very
quietly.

"Fuck," Namjoon said.

Chapter End Notes

The song Jin was listening to on repeat in the van was Too Much Regret, by Busker
Busker.
The pineapple hair idea is based on this guy.
 The One Where Jeong Hoseok Kinda Sorta Makes Waffles
Chapter Notes

Warnings:
1) somebody almost drowns!! They're fine though. In the end. Yeah, anyway.
2) there's some very not explicit sexual content in here also. Not a ton. But the word
"dick" is used. I'm sure everyone's very shocked.

I'm going to updating slightly more quickly through the end of the month because I'm
participating in NaNoWriMo with a piece of original fiction and my fic updating will
slow down somewhat because of that. Just so y'all know.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

His third mistake was sucking in a quick, shocked breath when he hit the water.

It was cold - even here at the southernmost tip of the peninsula it was cold, the chill of winter still
holding on with ragged fingers, and when he hit the water he knew he should hold his breath but
the freeze was so sudden and unexpected that he couldn't help but gasp, liquid filling up his lungs.
It was cold, cold, cold, but in his lungs it felt like fire, like he'd breathed in red-hot smoke.

It burned and choked him and when he looked up the salt stung his eyes. When he looked up he
found himself sinking. When he looked up he saw the twisting, mottled surface of the sea breaking
and crashing as bodies dove in after him.

The weight in his lungs cooled from fire to stone, weighing him down. Putting him to sleep. He'd
tried to hold his breath after that first gasp but he was too heavy now and he closed his eyes.
Opened his mouth. Gave in to the cold sting of the water in his lungs.

A hand gripping the back of his collar. His shirt pulling tight around his throat. The water churning
around him as arms curled around him pulled him up dragged him back toward the uneven,
swirling light at the surface of the water—

When his head broke the surface the air stung almost as bad as the water had before and he was
stupid with it, coughing up salt water with his eyes closed as someone pulled him along. His ears
were ringing (a sound similar to the gloing gloing gloing that he'd heard as a kid, sticking his head
under the water in the bathtub) and his lungs were stinging and the arms around his chest were so
tight that they hurt and the salt water in his eyes burned…

Somewhere someone was yelling. More than one someone, a lot of someones - he heard his name,
he heard someone else's name, he heard Hoseok's voice saying I got 'im, I got 'im, help me haul
him up and then he was lying on his back on the warm wood paneling of a pier with the world
spinning around him and his lungs full of water and the wind plucking at the drops of water still
clinging to his skin.

He's not breathing, someone said, Jin-hyung knows CPR, if—

I've got it, came a third voice, panicked and tight and desperate. He tried to breathe but his throat
resisted, he tried to roll over but his muscles refused to comply, he tried to wake up but the
darkness behind his eyes rose up - and he choked as someone's knees hit the wood next to him. As
firm hands came down on his chest, pumping his lungs to make them work. As his head was
tipped back, hand on his chin, lips on his, someone else's hot breath in his mouth—

He coughed, finally (finally), and the water came up as he rolled onto his side, heaving seawater all
over the pier.

Hands on his back, hands on his waist, tugging him up so that he was curled up and shaking
against the chest of someone who was warmer than he was but just as soaking wet. "God," said a
voice over his head. "God, you scared me so bad."

"Sorry," he choked out, and gave in to the darkness rising up to swallow him whole.

NAMJOON
Monday morning, the first full day of Spring Break

When Namjoon woke up it was to the following accompaniment: an ecstatic banging on the
bedroom door; Taehyung shouting something about coffee; the sun, shining through the goddamn
window like it owned the place; Jin's neck, pressed up against his face (his cheek, his nose, his
mouth) and his skin was warm and soft and fuck. Fuck. God damn it. Fuck. He was spooning. He
was spooning with Kim motherfucking Seokjin and the only possible way this could be any worse
would be if - well, fuck. Thank you, morning wood, for making literally everything terrible.

It took him a second to remember where he was. The bed was bigger than he was used to, the sun
at the wrong angle through the window, the walls bright white and shining and the duvet thick and
warm over them, trapping Jin's delirium heat close against his skin. It took him a second, blinking
awake with the skin of Jin's neck pressed up against his face, to remember the day before - the
eight goddamn hours in that goddamn van, the way Tae had gotten left behind at the damn rest
stop and won all those stupid crane game prizes, the way…

… the way Jin had leaned into him in the warm dim light of the beach house guest room. Leaned
his forehead on Namjoon's shoulder, curling his arms around Namjoon's waist, mumbled I miss
you, don't leave into his skin and pulled him down onto the bed and trapped him there under the
inescapable weight of guilt and warmth and home.

Namjoon shoved himself upright on one arm, head buzzing, ears ringing, eyes still blurred and
bleary with sleep. His vision was tracking and he felt almost drunk he was so unbalanced and
fucked up, and - and Jin sighed and rolled over onto his stomach and mumbled something almost
unintelligible about webfoot octopus and pork into the mattress.

He was wearing the t-shirt he'd had on under his Yoshi sweater the night before, the same drab
green with the Beta Tau Sigma sigil and coat of arms screenprinted on the back in faded white
paint; he was wearing the jeans he'd had on during the drive, grayed denim skinny jeans that had
stretched out a little over his hips; he was still wearing his socks, incongruent light blue with heel
and toe and thin stripes in pink. He was wearing everything he'd been wearing when he
overbalanced onto the mattress, dragging Namjoon down with him, and he was talking about food
in his sleep and he had pillow lines on his face and the panic was rising quick and hot in the back
of Namjoon's throat but still he couldn't quite get unstuck from the fact that Kim Seokjin was here,
asleep, next to him in the bed.

"Fuck," Namjoon mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Fuck. Fuck. Jin -
wake up, we're totally screwed, it's morning and the kids are awake."

As if to punctuate this, someone banged on the door again (it rattled dangerously on its hinges) and
Jimin shouted something muffled about parents needing to eat breakfast with their children.

"We're not their parents," Jin moaned into the mattress. "Tell them to leave us alone."

"There is no us," Namjoon insisted, prodding at Jin's ribs gingerly. "There is especially no us when
what sounds like the entire maknae line is on the other side of the door plotting a siege. Or maybe
just turning Jeongguk into a makeshift battering ram."

The only response he got out of Jin was him sighing sleepily and settling gently into the mattress.

The door rattled on its hinges again. "Jin," Namjoon whined plaintively, "we are in the same bed
and we will never ever ever live this down if you don't get the fuck up and, like, I don't know…
maybe if we pretend we've been up for a while or something—"

Jin groaned and shoved himself upward on both arms as if doing the absolute laziest pushup in the
world. His hair was sticking up and his eyes were all puffy from being asleep and he just took one
long, deep breath. "Okay," he said finally, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress and
setting his feet on the floor. "Okay. Okay. I'm up. What time is it?"

"I don't fucking know," Namjoon gritted out through his teeth, running a hand over his face
miserably as he shoved himself off the mattress. Ah, jesus christ, he was so fucking stiff from the
drive down from Seoul. He could only imagine how tense Jin was, driving the entire way by
himself the way he had. "We gotta—"

"So we fell asleep," Jin sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "It's not a big deal.
Yesterday was a really long day." He glanced over his shoulder. "Is the door even locked?"

"Jesus, I dunno."

On cue, the door swung open and Taehyung came swinging with it, his grin showing every single
one of his shining white teeth. "Parents!" he trilled delightedly. "You're awake! How did you
sleep?"

"All right," Jin said, at the exact same time as Namjoon stuttered, "I slept on the floor."

Jimin stuck his head around the door jamb and fixed Namjoon with a skeptical look, his hair a
veritable bird's nest. "You coulda just slept in the bed, hyung," he chided, Busan satoori lilting
easily. (It was like being away from Seoul made him more himself.) "I'm sure Jin-hyung doesn't
bite."

"Only if you ask nicely," Jin said, rubbing both hands over his face. "Were you saying something
about breakfast?"

"Hoseok-hyung is making waa-aaffles," Taehyung sang, throwing his hands up in the air and
grinding up against Jimin's hip in a series of excited body rolls. "It's the first day of spring break an'
we're gonna eat waffles an' play video games an' go to the beach—"

"Since when does Hoseok cook?" Jin stretched hugely, back popping in four places. "Lord. Let me
get into something more comfortable and I'll be out in a minute to make sure Hoseok doesn't
poison all of us." He glanced over at Namjoon. "The least you could've done was take my pants
off."
"Um," Namjoon said.

"That's our cue," Jimin said quickly, looping an arm through Taehyung's elbow and tugging him
out of the room, pulling the door closed after them. "See you in a minute! Have a good time getting
naked! Don't take too long!"

"We're not getting naked," Namjoon yelled after them, over the sound of the door slamming and
two pairs of excited feet running down the hallway toward the kitchen at the other end of the
house. "Jesus fucking christ."

As if to punctuate how very, very wrong he was, there was the sound of a zipper pulling down
behind him. Then Jin's voice: "do you know where they put our luggage? I want to put on some
pajama bottoms. Sleeping in skinny jeans is not my idea of a good time."

"I'll go look," Namjoon stuttered out, lurching toward the door without turning around.

Shit. Shit. Jesus shit. This whole thing was just… it was obnoxious, was what it was. He shut the
door carefully behind him and wandered down the hallway, unfamiliar now in the light of day.
He'd always assumed it was just some dumb ongoing joke that everybody in the house had, the Jin
And Namjoon Are Married joke - it made a kind of sense, he'd always supposed, since they were
the president and vice-president and they were sorta the parents and their friendship technically
predated the frat - but the Events In February had changed all of that and now every joke and side-
eye and elbow nudge traded between Jimin and Taehyung cut at him like the edge of a piece of
paper, flaying him slowly and gently down to nothing.

It didn't help, he was pretty sure, that Jin was just so fuckin' cute. Like really cute, super cute, two
years older than him but strangely adorable - like a puppy sometimes, like a kid, (almost) like a girl
- and he couldn't help but be charmed out of his fuckin' mind sometimes by all the tiny little things
Jin did. The way the cuffs of his sweater hung over his hands. The way he sang along to music in
the car, slightly off-key and a little nasal. The way his eyes curved when he smiled, the way he
leaned his weight against Namjoon's shoulder when he was sleepy, the way he made very slightly
off-color jokes without really appearing to notice.

Namjoon had never noticed how goddamn cute Jin was before February, he was pretty sure. He'd
just been Jin, his… his partner? His vice-president? (His spouse, whispered Taehyung's influence
on his thought processes in the back of his head, just like it had back in February.) Just… Jin. Just
Jin. His friend. His Jin. That was it. That was all.

He skidded a little on the hardwood as he popped out of the hallway into the wide front room. It
was a living room, minimalistic and pristine - a few huge white couches and an ornately carved
teak coffee table and a massive flat screen tv presiding over the entire space like a shrine to the
ever-present gods of media and technology - but Taehyung and Jeongguk had apparently already
completely taken it over, turning it into a wretched hive of scum and villainy already. There was a
bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, Mario Kart on the tv, Jeongguk's legs hanging over the back
of one of the couches as he was apparently absorbed in the act of controlling Luigi's go-kart while
hanging upside down.

"Hey," Namjoon called out, throat a little hoarse. "Hey, where's all the luggage?"

"In the rooms," Taehyung yelled back, mouth apparently full of popcorn. He didn't turn around to
look.

"No I mean mine. And Jin's."

"Oh shit, yeah—" Taehyung paused the game and shoved himself to his feet, prompting a squawk
of protest from Jeongguk. "You two were totally zonked out by the time we got everything out of
the van so we just stuck your shit in the dining room to get it outta the way. Gimme a second—"
He vaulted easily over the back of the couch, slipping a little on the wood floor when he landed
(cutesy lion socks losing traction on the polished bamboo), and skated back past Namjoon through
the arched doorway into the next room.

It took a few minutes to gather everything up and drag it down the hall (Jin had almost infinitely
less luggage than Namjoon did, a fact about which Namjoon wasn't sure how he felt) but he
managed it, and when he got the door open and the bags into the room Jin was propped up against
the headboard on the right side of the bed - shirtless, jeans off, socks off, wearing only a pair of
black boxer briefs as he scrolled distractedly through something on his phone and chewed
thoughtfully on his lower lip.

Namjoon lost his grip on the bag in his right hand, and it thumped heavily to the floor. "Um. Hey. I
- I got the luggage."

Jin glanced up and smiled, setting the phone down on the nightstand. "Thanks," he said - and stood
up, padding over the carpet toward Namjoon.

Namjoon took a deep breath. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. No problem."

JIN

"So by 'making waffles,'" Jin said, pulling the egg carton out of Hoseok's unresisting hands, "Tae
meant that you were puttering around the kitchen uselessly in the vain hope that I'd get up and
make breakfast for everyone?"

Hoseok shrugged languidly, a pleased grin stretching over his face as he shoved his hands into the
pockets of his flannel pajama bottoms. "Somethin' like that. We got all the ingredients for waffles,
and my aunt's got this fancy belgian waffle maker, and I packed the cooler and she always keeps
coffee and tea stocked up so until we can get to a grocery store we're pretty set."

"I do not," Jin said shortly, dumping the eggs carefully on the counter and proceeding to open
every single drawer and cabinet trying to figure out where everything else was, "intend to get back
into that van again for a full thirty-six hours." He finally found a drawer full of tea towels and dug
through it for a few seconds until he found an apron. Slipped it over his head, tied it around his
waist. "Did everybody sleep okay last night?"

Hoseok pulled the carafe out of the coffee maker and padded over to the sink to fill it up. "I think
so. Yoongi-hyung and Jiminnie I stuck at the other end of the damn house so we wouldn't have to
hear 'em doing whatever the fuck it is they do, I'm in a two queen room with Tae and Kookie, and
then you and Namjoon-hyung got the master bedroom next to us cause I know you're already used
to his snoring." He sloshed a little water on the countertop as he stuck the glass carafe back into the
coffee maker and hit the switch. "Tae an' Kookie stayed up played video games for a while but I
think everybody else crashed right after the van unloaded."

Jin pulled a huge mixing bowl out of an upper cabinet, setting it down on the granite next to the
electric stove top. "Joonie doesn't like it when you call him hyung," he said, flipping the egg carton
open and pulling out three in one hand, fingers twisting to pick them up. "Did you tell him we're all
sharing beds? Not just him and me?"
"Nah. Didn't think about it. Not really important." Hoseok paused in front of the fridge, glancing up
curiously. "Why?"

"Nn." Jin shook his head. "It's not really. Important, I mean." He bit his lip, cracking all three eggs
into the bowl and reaching for a whisk. "He's just—"

"So by 'Hoseok's making waffles,'" came Namjoon's voice from the dining room, "Tae meant that
you were just hangin' out in the goddamn kitchen waiting for Jin to get up and make breakfast for
everybody?"

Jin rolled his eyes meaningfully at Hoseok as he pulled the bin of flour towards him over the
counter. "He's helping," he chided. "Hoseok-ah, could you get me the milk? And plug in the waffle
iron?"

"He wasn't helping until I came in," Namjoon said, leaning against the counter next to Jin -
crossing his arms over his chest and glancing down into the bowl of whisked eggs on the
countertop. "Is that gonna be waffles?"

"Not if you don't shove over so I can plug this in," Hoseok cut in, waffle iron in one hand and the
plug in the other.

"He was making coffee," Jin said, dumping two cups of flour into the mixing bowl and tugging a
big wooden spoon out of a drawer next to his hip, folding the egg and flour together like he'd done
it a million times. (Because he had - a million times at least.) "Don't be too hard on him. Hoseok,
could you go grab Tae and Kookie and have them start setting the table?"

Hoseok grunted in confirmation as he shoved the plug into the outlet, taking half a second to check
that the iron was on and working. "Yeah. I'll get 'em. Might be a bit, from the sound of the arguing
I think they're on Rainbow Road right now and Jeongguk keeps wanting to start over."

Jin rolled his eyes. "Saints preserve us. Well… tell them that if they don't hurry up they won't get
any waffles."

"Noted," Hoseok called over his shoulder, shuffling out of the kitchen.

There was quiet for a minute, broken only by the sound of the egg and flour becoming batter under
Jin's hand. Broken only by him digging around for sugar, baking soda, vanilla. Broken only by the
click of the waffle iron coming up to temperature, until Namjoon spoke.

"What do you want to do today?"

He didn't jump. He didn't. He hadn't really forgotten Namjoon was there, but he'd gotten wrapped
up in what he was doing and so… okay, all right, he'd sort of forgotten Namjoon was there, leaning
against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen just out of his range of vision. "I don't
know," Jin said carefully, sticking a fingertip in the batter before popping it into his mouth
thoughtfully to check the taste. "After yesterday I'm kind of exhausted, honestly. I think I just want
to lie around. You know?" He glanced at Namjoon over his shoulder, licking a splatter of waffle
mixture off his wrist. "What about you?"

Namjoon looked like he'd been struck off-balance for a second, eyes wide and fixed on Jin's wrist,
at the place where he'd licked himself clean. "I…" Then he seemed to wake up again, shaking
himself a little. "Yeah, I… I was kinda thinking the same thing actually." He scratched his head,
that awkward movement that only showed up when he wasn't really sure what he was doing.
"School was just totally crazy this last term and - and I've been missing, um, just like… hanging
around. With you. I guess."

Jin froze - just for half a second, almost but not quite long enough to overfill the waffle iron -
before setting the bowl down on the counter again and closing the iron very, very carefully.
"Yeah," he said, trying not to give away too much. (Had he said something last night? Had he been
stupid? Had he said the wrong thing? Had he said too much? God, he couldn't remember - he could
barely remember shifting the van into park in the driveway.) "Yeah. I think Hoseok said they were
going to go down to the beach, but… but yeah. That would be nice, I think. Spend a day just
hanging around." He glanced up - and smiled, hoping against hope that he wasn't being stupid.
"With you."

"Awesome," Namjoon stuttered, jerking his head once in quick confirmation.

There was a raucous cacophony of screams from the general direction of the living room and they
traded knowing glances. "Rainbow Road," Jin sighed. "Better get out of the way, they'll be in here
in a minute to set the table."

"Yeah," Namjoon said, pushing off the counter and heading out of the kitchen toward the dining
room. "Thanks, babe."

Jin looked up, but Namjoon was already gone.

He was probably hearing things.

NAMJOON
Tuesday morning

Namjoon opened his eyes and couldn't figure out where he was.

There was an odd sort of humming noise in his ears, just under the volume where he could
recognize it. It sounded like air blowing through a vent, maybe, or a distant hairdryer, or maybe
someone showering somewhere not too far but not too close. The sun was arcing in low through
the window but it was a strange golden light, diffused and oddly charged with electricity,
illuminating every speck of dust floating in the air.

The air was warm on his skin, the pillow was too soft, the mattress seemed to almost be sucking
him under like quicksand - but he heard a sigh behind him and he couldn't stop himself from
rolling over, propping himself up on one elbow.

Oh, hell. Right. They were on vacation, on spring break, they'd driven down to Yeosu to stay in
Hoseok's aunt's beach house for a week and he and Jin had been stuck in the same room and here
they were. In an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar light and unfamiliar morning sounds and the bed
(the bed) vast and warm with white sheets and a white duvet and white pillows that were just a
little bit too soft… and Jin, sighing gently in his sleep as he turned his face up to incline in toward
Namjoon in the golden early morning light.

The light was strange and golden and oddly charged with electricity and Namjoon felt warm, he
felt hot, he felt deeply uncomfortable and deeply at home at the exact same time. He wanted to get
up and shake this off, he wanted to get out of this room (with its strange light and its strange noise
and the heady warmth of Jin's volcanic metabolism), he wanted he wanted he wanted—

Jin opened his eyes and their gazes locked.

"G'morning," Namjoon stuttered, and found himself frozen in place. Any other morning and maybe
he would have tried to save it. Any other morning he would have glanced away and tried to act like
he hadn't been watching Jin sleep like some kind of weird creepy asshole. But this morning, here,
now, with the strange golden light (diffused and oddly charged with electricity) and the humming
noise in his ears and Jin's warmth filling him up slow with amber… he couldn't save it. He couldn't
act like he hadn't been watching Jin sleep. "Did you want to get up?"

There was a moment where Namjoon wasn't sure if Jin was awake. Where Jin just looked at him,
eyelids heavy, lips slightly parted, skin flushed pink with heat and sleep. There was a moment
where Namjoon started to wonder if he hadn't had to try saving it after all, started to wonder if
maybe he should just get up quietly and let Jin sleep a little more, started to wonder if maybe it
was better this way.

There was a moment, but it was over almost before it began when Jin reached up. Slid one hand
over Namjoon's shoulder, over the back of his neck, crooked fingers hooking to scrape his nails
gently over the back of his scalp - and pulled, arching up a little off the bed with the force of it.
Chin tipping up. Eyes fluttered mostly closed.

"Jin," Namjoon breathed, but couldn't find the strength to resist, letting Jin drag him down. "Jin,
you're half asleep—"

Jin opened his mouth, but didn't speak. Just pulled Namjoon down inescapably, inexorably, until
their faces were less than a centimeter apart - and stopped there. His eyes blinked open, and
Namjoon could hear Jin's voice in the back of his head, the way Jin had been so exhausted that
first night after they'd arrived, the way Jin had tipped into him and slipped careful hands around his
waist and pulled him down onto the mattress.

I miss you, Jin had said, voice thick with sleep. Don't leave.

Namjoon was always sure. About everything. He thought everything through, he made sure to
figure out everything, he made his decision before he moved. He was always sure, even all those
times when he looked back and flinched and wished he'd thought instead about all the little tiny
things that had ended up going wrong.

Here, now, with Jin under him - he wasn't sure. He was unsteady. He was scared and uncertain and
all he knew was that as much as Jin missed him Namjoon maybe missed him more, even here,
even with Jin literally a breath away. All he knew was that he missed the hell out of Jin, he missed
him so bad, they could be right next to each other with elbows bumping, talking to each other about
whatever, and still Namjoon missed Jin. He didn't even know what it was he missed besides
everything, and so he made a really, really stupid decision - and closed the distance.

Jin's lips were just as soft and smooth and perfect against his own as they looked like they would
be. They were soft and smooth and perfect and Jin opened his mouth, sighing a little as Namjoon
curved down into him, curious and desperate and afraid as the kiss turned from innocent and chaste
to something hotter and wetter and deeper. Jin opened his mouth, Jin pulled on Namjoon's neck,
Jin moved underneath him to slip one leg between Namjoon's knees and Namjoon found himself
over him - rocking his hips against the swell of Jin's thigh, hand slipping under the hem of his t-
shirt, the heat and wet of Jin's mouth driving him just a little bit out of his mind.

God - he missed Jin so bad, he didn't know if this was what he was missing but he just missed Jin
so bad and Jin smelled like sleep and clean laundry and the golden light filled him up with
electricity and so when Jin arched and gasped under him, slipped a hand down to palm Namjoon's
dick through the thin cotton fabric of his boxers, arched up against him and made a noise in the
back of his throat that didn't quite sound human—
Namjoon opened his eyes - just long enough to realize that it was late morning and there was no
strange golden light, there was no odd humming noise, there was no Jin in the bed next to him and
this whole time he'd been dreaming - only to close them tight again as the inescapable release
shuddered through him.

Jesus fucking christ this was so goddamn embarrassing, he hadn't had a wet dream in years (what
was he, fourteen goddamn years old?) and not only had that been the tamest almost-sex he'd ever
had in a dream it was also, extremely notably, with a) a dude and b) a dude he knew. Namjoon lay
on his side trying like hell to catch his breath, aftershocks pulsing through him and gradually
subsiding as he tipped further up out of sleep and into consciousness. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! What the
hell was that, seriously?

Behind him the door into the master bathroom clicked open and as the sound of the vent whispered
out into the room, the steam billowed against the ceiling, he realized that the humming sound he'd
been hearing in his sleep was the sound of the fan, the sound of the water while Jin was showering.
At least Jin hadn't been next to him while Namjoon had been dreaming about kissing him. (Small
mercies.)

"Hey," Namjoon croaked, starting to roll over and then immediately thinking better of it as his legs
slipped against each other wetly in his pajama bottoms. (If there was any justice in the world none
of it had escaped the flannel and he had half a chance at concealing the mortifying truth of it.)
"Hey, you up already?"

"It's almost nine," came Jin's voice, still low with the gravel of sleep. Namjoon closed his eyes
tight at the sound of Jin opening his luggage. The shuffling of Jin tugging fresh clothes out of his
bag. The creak of the mattress as Jin sat down on the edge of the bed to tug his socks on. "Tae
wouldn't stop talking about going out to the pier yesterday, and I'm pretty much recovered from the
drive down. I was thinking we could drive over, make a day of it. Go tide-pooling or something.
Eat a bunch of seafood."

"Catch crabs," Namjoon mumbled into the pillow.

Jin laughed, and god - his laugh sounded warm and delighted and amazing. Namjoon felt like he
could fall back asleep just listening to it. "Yeah. Yeah, we can try catching crabs. Run around on
the beach a little, I don't know. I'd like to get some pictures, you know? Of all of us together.
Before everybody graduates and we all scatter to the four winds."

"Yoongi's the only one graduating," Namjoon said, taking a chance and rolling over carefully,
keeping his knees together. "And now that he and Jimin are together we'll be seeing him all the
time. Hoseok's going into the music therapy doctorate program and he'll still be eligible to live at
the house."

Jin was sitting on the edge of the bed - jeans on, undershirt on, over-sized sweatshirt on his hands -
and he glanced down. "Yeah," he said after a second. "Yeah. Yoongi." He pulled the sweatshirt
over his head, head popping out of the collar, and turned around to flash Namjoon a grin. "Go get
showered. Let's go catch some crabs."

"Crabs," Namjoon echoed weakly, feeling his own come dribble slightly down his leg. A memory
of the Jin in the dream, arching up into him, crashed through him like a bolt of electricity.
"Awesome."
 JIN

"No," Jin said, waving a hand at Hoseok to get him to step back, "just tuck in with everybody so I
can get the stupid picture, all right?"

"You need to be in it too, hyung," Jimin whined, stepping forward. "It can't just be—"

"It's an instax! There's no timer! And anyway I've seen you updating instagram all day, I'm in tons
of photos." Jin brought the viewfinder to his eye. "They're probably all very unflattering and I'm
already annoyed with you. One, two, three—"

At the moment the flash went off Taehyung kicked Jimin over into Yoongi and Jeongguk
overbalanced backward and Namjoon tried like hell to catch everyone at the same time and only
succeeded in dragging everyone down simultaneously, six bodies hitting the wood paneling of the
pier in a series of sickening thumps. There was a moment of shocked silence, broken momentarily
by the pleased little buzz of Jin's instax spitting the photo out proudly - like a dog presenting its
owner with the carcass of a dead possum.

He pulled it out and waited for a second. "Well," he said finally, trying to keep the smile off his
face and finding it an extremely difficult prospect, "it's certainly very representative…"

"We all look," Namjoon announced miserably to the sky from where he lay in the pile of awkward
limbs on the pier, "like a bunch of goddamn nerds."

"Terrified blurs, mostly." Jin picked his way through the groaning tangle and dropped into a squat
next to Namjoon, presenting the photo with arched eyebrows. "I especially like how it looks like
you have five arms, Joonie. This one's going in the fraternity scrapbook."

Namjoon shoved himself up onto his hands, glaring blurrily at the photo. "We don't even have a
scrapbook, Jin."

"I'm making one. Just for this photo. It'll have a place of honor." Jin tucked it lovingly into his
wallet. "There. Safe."

Namjoon glowered at him. "I ever tell you that you're kind of terrible sometimes?"

Jin beamed at him. "Only every other day." He held a hand out, standing up. "Come on. I want ice
cream."

"Ice cream!" Taehyung yelled, voice muffled where his face was shoved awkwardly into Hoseok's
armpit. "Yes! That's a great idea!"

It took a few minutes to get everyone untangled and upright and dusted off and (in Yoongi's case)
properly mollified; a further ten minutes to find the closest place to acquire ice cream; five minutes
to figure out what on earth everyone wanted… so in the end it was at least half an hour total before
the seven of them were sitting on the edge of the pier, feet dangling off the side, eating their ice
cream and watching the sun on the water.

They'd spent most of the day out here - having races on the beach, trying (and failing) to catch
crabs, Tae had built a sandcastle and then promptly declared war on all other sandcastles which
then prompted a heated sandcastle competition resulting only in the high tide destroying everyone's
hard work before a winner could be decided once and for all. It was late afternoon now, and Jin
was… he was happy. He was happy most of the time, really - living in the frat, being with the kids,
running with this strange pack of nerds… it was good. He liked it, and he had a good time, and he
was happy.

But right now. Right now he was just happy. He could forget about all the things behind him, all
the things in front of him. He could sit on the pier with his legs dangling over the side, sucking on
the ice pop and letting the conversation roll over him. Namjoon was on his left and Jeongguk was
on his right. Namjoon had leaned over to holler something at Hoseok and his chest was pressed
tight against Jin's arm, Jeongguk was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, Taehyung was
singing something, some trot song about butterflies, and this… this was, maybe, the most beautiful
moment in his life.

"Hey!"

It was Jimin's voice, floating down over them. Jin glanced up - Jimin had climbed up on a small
platform about five meters up off the pier and was standing at the edge, staring out over the
horizon with his hand shading his eyes from the sun.

"Jimin!" Namjoon groaned and popped his melona bar out of his mouth. "Get the hell down from
there before you hurt yourself, Jimin, seriously—"

"I think I can see Jeju from here!"

"You're looking in the wrong direction, idiot," Yoongi hollered up after him, a stupid grin on his
face. "Get down!"

Jin sighed and shoved his empty ice pop wrapper into Namjoon's hands, shoving himself up onto
his feet. "I'll get him."

"No, I'm pretty sure!" Jimin was at the edge of the platform, leaning forward dangerously. "I
mean… there's something out there, anyway…"

"This whole area's an archipelago," Namjoon yelled up. "And stop jumping around so much, Jin's
coming up to get you and if either of you fall off an' die I'll kill you myself!"

Jin hauled himself up onto the platform, grunting with exertion. "Jimin," he gasped up, scrambling
to his feet. "Come on, I don't think you can see Jeju from here."

"Seriously, hyung!" Jimin tipped out over the edge, eyes narrowing. "I think you can—" He almost
lost his balance, tipping forward and then back nauseatingly, and Jin lurched forward to grab him
back, heart in his throat.

His first mistake was climbing up on the platform in the first place.

His second mistake was stepping into the pool of seawater at the edge, losing his traction as he
yanked Jimin back to safety.

His third mistake was sucking in a quick, shocked breath when he hit the water.

NAMJOON

Namjoon was standing up the second he saw Jin tip over the edge. He was jerking out of his
sweatshirt and running closer to the platform when Jin hit the water. He was stepping up on the
railing when Hoseok grabbed his elbow and pulled him back. "It's okay," Hoseok gasped. "The
 water's deep here, he'll be fine, he can just—"

"Jin can't swim," Namjoon choked out, jerking his elbow out of Hoseok's grip and diving into the
sea.

Under the water it was dark but the white of Jin's t-shirt flashed in the deep and even though the
saltwater stung his eyes and the quick breath he'd taken before leaping in headfirst burned in his
lungs Namjoon raced downward as fast as he could, reaching out—

His hand found purchase on the back of Jin's collar and yanked hard, letting the air in his lungs
drag both of them up to the surface. They popped up again on the surface of the water and Jin let
out a choked gasp of seawater and then nothing, jesus, nothing nothing nothing - Namjoon dragged
him through the water to the pier and Hoseok and Taehyung hauled Jin up onto the pier and
Yoongi hovered over him and Namjoon pulled himself up and heard Jeongguk saying he's not
breathing—

"I've got it," Namjoon gasped out, soaked and shaking in the wind off the sea. He dropped to his
knees next to Jin, and… and it was almost like that goddamn dream he'd had that morning. That
goddamn dream with Jin laid out still in front of him, chin tipped up, lips parted. But now his skin
was deathly pale and soaked with saltwater, his hair was clinging together, his chest wasn't moving
and god god god god god Jin don't fucking die, don't fucking die, this was Namjoon's worst
fucking nightmare this was, this was every moment of panic he'd every felt in his life rolled up and
magnified and as he leaned over to pump desperately on Jin's chest, to pull his head up, to tug his
mouth open, to force air into his lungs…

Namjoon didn't believe in God. He was an atheist. He'd always been an atheist. But right there on
the pier with Jin cold and motionless in front of him he made a deal - I'll give up everything,
anything, just to make sure Jin makes it out of this alive.

Jin coughed, finally, and rolled over - heaving seawater all over the pier.

Namjoon waited for just a second, let him get it out, before grabbing him and pulling him and
tugging him close against his chest. Jin shook and curled against him blindly, hands twisting in the
soaked-through fabric of Namjoon's t-shirt. "God," Namjoon gasped out. "God, you scared me so
bad."

"Sorry," Jin choked, and slipped gently into unconsciousness.

Chapter End Notes

see i told you everything was fine

 The One Where Min Yoongi Uncovers An Unforgivable Betrayal
Chapter Notes

There's some mild sexual content in this and it actually happens in real life.
Proofreaders have deemed it unnecessary to bump the rating just for a vague sexy
moment so I'm not going to, but be aware there is sexiness incoming.

If at any point during this chapter you go "wait, what? that's not how that works" just
imagine me petting your head very nicely and saying "narrative purposes."

See the end of the chapter for more notes

JIN
Thursday afternoon

Jin sat back against the driver's seat and tapped out an inconsistent rhythm on the steering wheel,
whistling something nonsensical under his breath. He'd had a song stuck in his head for a couple of
days now but it was just a few notes in a row and he couldn't place it and he was just proud enough
not to ask Namjoon what on earth the song was. (Maybe one more day. He'd give it one more day,
and then he'd throw his pride to the wind and just sing it for Namjoon once and for all so that he
could figure out what it was and maybe have half a chance at getting it out of his head.)

Namjoon had jolted out of the passenger seat - god, had it really been five whole minutes ago? -
patting at his pockets (his jeans, his jacket, smoothing his hands distractedly down his hips like
that was likely to yield anything) as he tumbled out onto the driveway muttering something about
leaving his wallet behind. They were only on vacation for two more days but they were out of a
few things and Jimin had been moping guiltily for a day and a half and Jin fully intended on
making something exorbitant for dinner in a vain attempt at salvaging things.

But god - they'd never get to the grocery store if Namjoon didn't come back out. Where had he left
his wallet this time? Jin dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled out the app that had come
linked to the GPS tracker stickers that he'd given Namjoon for christmas, but Namjoon had already
pushed the ringer for his wallet on his own phone and Jin couldn't very well ring it a second time.

Jin groaned. Rubbed a hand over his face. Counted to ten.

Opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement.

The sea air was cool on his cheeks and even after his near-death-experience he still liked it. He
didn't foresee going swimming anytime soon, but the crisp smell of salt and sand and drying
seaweed was refreshing and lovely in the late afternoon with the sun arcing down over the ocean.
The world felt calm. Quiet. Pleasant.

He took a deep breath of clean air, and opened the front door—

—there was a sickening thudding noise, like someone slamming their fist down hard onto a
wooden table. It echoed through the house, through the living room, through the front corridor,
into the tiled entryway where Jin stood pulling his shoes off. Then Yoongi's voice, harsh and rough
and furious.
"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me," he was saying, way too loud. "You've gotta be fuckin'
kidding me - this whole time? This whole goddamn time?"

"Look—" Namjoon's voice, stuttered and almost scared. Jin's gut twisted. He shoved his shoe off
the rest of the way and tumbled up into the house, nearly losing his balance on the step.

"I'm not fuckin' looking at any goddamn, motherfucking—"

"Babe," Jimin's voice floated in as Jin slipped over the hardwood, "babe, it's okay—"

"This fucker," Yoongi said, slapping his hand down onto the dining room table as Jin rounded the
corner, "has been lying to us. For years."

Namjoon was sitting at the head of the table, back bent, head in his hands. Taehyung and Jeongguk
were standing next to each other against the wall with their hands tucked behind their backs and
their eyes wide. Hoseok was standing next to Namjoon with his face pale and his mouth a thin line.
Yoongi was hanging over him (Jimin at one elbow, worried and uncertain) with his face bright
pink with shining fury and one hand flat on the table and the other clenched tight, knuckles
white… holding Namjoon's wallet open in the air like the damning evidence in a murder trial.

"I can explain."

All of them looked up - and Jin smiled, nervous and awkward as he spread his palms wide in a
placating gesture. "I can explain," he said again. "It's not really that complicated."

JIN
3.5 years ago

At first he was pretty sure he was hearing things.

It was wind, maybe. A sigh of wind against the tree outside, whistling a little through the tiny
spaces between the window pane and the wooden frame. Maybe it was the house settling, old
foundation and old supports and old floorboards creaking against each other in the night. Maybe it
was just… maybe it was just his mattress, springs groaning as he shifted in his sleep.

But he lay still. Held his breath. Watched the shape of the trees outside, still on a calm night, and
heard the noise again.

It wasn't the wind. It didn't sound like the house settling. He hadn't moved a muscle and it didn't
sound the way his mattress did, even as old and broken-in and prone to noisy complaint as it was.

It was a sigh. A hiccup. A quiet little held in sound, like someone trying not to cry into their pillow.

Jin stared up at the ceiling. Turned his head slightly to glance at the time on the red LED readout
of his digital clock - god, it was a little past three in the morning and he had a test the next day at
eight am - and considered his options.

He and Namjoon had been rooming together for the last year or so. He couldn't remember the date,
really - it had started out as Namjoon insisting he take the bed while Namjoon camped out on the
floor (just for a little while, Namjoon had insisted awkwardly, just until we get everything figured
out) but then at some point another bed had showed up in the already slightly-cramped space, a
dresser appeared, Jiho got gradually less hesitant about him until one day he was suddenly
referring to Jin as a member of the frat without blinking an eye - but it had been a little less than a
year.

In that time Namjoon had probably heard him cry a dozen times. A hundred. With everything that
had happened with the Tau Deltas, with his uncertain status here at Beta Tau Sigma, with
everything that had happened (that hadn't happened) with Hyosang… Namjoon was a heavy
sleeper, but there was no way he'd never once heard Jin cry in the middle of the night. He'd cried
too much, too loud, too many times. There was no way.

Even after the second bed had appeared in the room, sometimes in the morning after a particularly
difficult night Jin would wake up (puffy eyed and hoarse throated and sometimes even still
hiccuping) only to find Namjoon sleeping on the floor next to him rather than in his own bed on
the other side of the room. He'd just be asleep - it wouldn't be anything special, he'd just be
stretched out on the floor next to him like a dog - but Jin would nudge him awake and ask him why
he'd been sleeping on the floor and every time the answer would be the same—

"I woke up," Namjoon would say, shrugging easily. "You sounded like you needed somebody. So I
wanted to be nearby, just in case."

It had been a little less than a year, and Namjoon had probably heard him cry a dozen times, a
hundred - and Jin had never ever ever heard Namjoon cry in the middle of the night.

Until now. At three o'clock in the morning, in the middle of the third week of spring term, when he
had a test at eight am.

Jin found himself very suddenly and very completely awake, staring at the plaster ceiling,
completely paralyzed by nerves and indecision. Namjoon wasn't… he wasn't a closed book, per se.
He was typically pretty open about his life, about how he felt about things, about his opinions and
his emotions and his thoughts. But then - but then he'd also get up in the middle of the night in
complete silence to sleep on the floor next to Jin's bed. Just in case. Just in case of what? Namjoon
never said why, he only said just in case and shrugged that loose shrug and looked up and grinned
at Jin like it was just who they were. Just what they did.

He'd get up in the middle of the night in complete silence, just because he heard Jin crying and he
was worried, and now Jin was lying in bed awake at three in the morning and in the bed on the
other side of the room Namjoon was crying as quietly as he could into his pillow.

It was like he didn't even have a choice. He'd woken up too many mornings to Kim Namjoon
stretched out next to his bed. He'd taken care of Namjoon too many times. Namjoon had taken care
of him too many times. There was a choice, sure, but Jin knew that there was really only one viable
option.

Jin sat up, as quietly as he could. Swung his legs out from under the quilt and over the edge of the
mattress. Stood up. Padded quietly over the floorboards in his bare feet to the side of Namjoon's
bed. Swallowed his nerves.

Namjoon didn't mind being taken care of if it was funny. If he was drunk or half asleep or sick. But
this was new. This was different. Jin had never heard him cry before, had never seen him cry
before. It was three in the morning and even so Namjoon was trying as hard as he could to keep the
sound of his sobs muffled in the sound-dampening mass of his pillow. Jin had to do this right. He
had to do the right thing, had to say the right thing.

"Hey," he said, voice quiet and rough in the dark. "I can't sleep."
There was a moment of quiet, shocked and still, before Namjoon sucked in a shuddering breath and
rolled over so he was nearly pressed up against the wall. "You can't sleep?" he rasped out, voice
thick. "You okay?"

"I…" He had to do this right. He had to say this right. "I guess I need somebody," Jin said stupidly.
"Can - can I sleep with you?"

A noise in the dark, Namjoon scrubbing awkwardly at his face, Namjoon wetting his lips
nervously, Namjoon trying to cool his breathing. "Y-yeah," he said, thumping the mattress a couple
of times with the palm of his hand. "Yeah, you - I guess you can sleep here. Isscool."

Jin swallowed. Took a deep breath. Slipped in under the quilt next to Namjoon, trying to stay close
and keep his distance at the same time. "Thanks," he mumbled. The pillowcase was damp under his
cheek and he pretended not to notice as he reached out cautiously, dragging light fingertips down
Namjoon's back through his t-shirt. Namjoon tightened up for a second before relaxing, loosening
into Jin's touch like he'd been waiting for it. "I just… I don't know, I heard - I heard a weird noise -
probably the house settling - and you know how I get, freaked myself out—"

"Yeah," Namjoon sighed, voice muffled in the pillow. He leaned back into Jin's hand. "Yeah. It's
okay. I'm here for you, man."

"Yeah," Jin echoed back. His eyes were starting to adjust to the dark and he could see the way
Namjoon was twisted, contorted so that Jin couldn't see his face. "Yeah, you always are. Thank
you. You're really good at it. I don't think - I don't know," he stuttered, fingers slowing to a stop, "I
don't know if I'd still be in school if you hadn't invited me to stay here, at the house. You're good
at… um… at taking care of things."

Oh, god. Oh god. Was that the wrong thing to say? God - he said that and Namjoon seemed to curl
up into himself again, took a shaking breath, pressed a hand to his face. Jin flinched and prepared
for the worst. And then, out of the dark, Namjoon's voice: "Am I really?"

Okay. Well. That wasn't what he was expecting. "Yeah," Jin replied. "God, Joonie—" Ah, god, he
kept messing up. It had been less than a year and he'd started called Namjoon Joon-ah from time to
time but lord, Joonie was just so... familiar. So familial. "—y-you're great at it. Everyone looks up
to you. With Jiho leaving at the end of the term you're, you're the pillar of the house, you're
trustworthy and you're a genius and you really care about everyone—"

"I don't know if I can do it." His voice sounded so small in the dark. "I don't know if I can do it. Be
president next year, I mean. I'm just - I'm just a kid, Jin, I don't… I don't know how to do this shit,
everyone looking up to me and having to do all this stuff a-and being a pillar and making decisions
and trying to keep everything chill—"

He couldn't stop himself. (Like before, it wasn't even a choice. It was just the only thing he could
do.) Jin tucked in close. Curved a hand in over Namjoon's waist. Pressed his face against the back
of Namjoon's neck. Willed his warmth, his heat, the burn of his affection and care and worry to
traverse the almost infinite distance between them to soak into Namjoon's being and dissolve the
knots of worry out of him. "You'll do great," Jin mumbled against Namjoon's skin. "You'll do so
great, Joonie. It'll be hard sometimes but that's okay. It's okay if it's not always easy." He twisted
his hand. Found Namjoon's fingers in the dark. "And - and anyway, you've got me. Right?"

"Right," Namjoon breathed, his hand tightening in Jin's loose grip. "Yeah."

"You're not alone," Jin murmured. "You've got me."

"Yeah." A breath. A moment of quiet. "Thanks."

"Go to sleep, Joonie."

"Okay."

JIN
Tuesday night, spring break

Jin rose up into consciousness slowly, carefully, uncertainly. His head hurt. His chest hurt. His
eyes hurt. His hands…

He blinked his eyes open, lashes clinging together painfully before he finally forced them apart. He
was lying on his side in a room he couldn't quite place, in a bed that wasn't quite familiar, the duvet
warm and heavy over him and the pillows a little bit too soft and the room mostly dark but dimly lit
by the soft light of a lamp somewhere behind him. He was warm and dry and curled up, and
someone was holding his hand.

Jin took a breath to speak but the air caught in his throat and he coughed instead, curling up even
tighter into himself as his diaphragm spasmed painfully - and Namjoon was bending over him,
curving over him, tightening his grip on Jin's hand and saying something quiet and quick and
panicked that Jin couldn't quite make out over the sound of his lungs trying like anything to exit his
chest cavity.

After a million years he was able to catch his breath, throat sore and chest aching with the
throbbing pain of a thousand bruises, and he rolled over onto his stomach still holding on tight to
Namjoon's hand. "Ow," he rasped, eloquent as always.

Namjoon's voice over his head. "You okay?"

"What happened?" Jin remembered ice cream. He remembered Jimin up on that platform. He
remembered climbing up the slats like a ladder, he remembered wind in his hair, he remembered
the gloing gloing gloing in his ears like from when he was a kid sticking his head under the water
in the bathtub.

"You almost fuckin' drowned is what happened." Namjoon's hand tightened even more over his,
and there was pressure on his shoulder - Namjoon's forehead, he realized, pushing into him. "Jesus,
Jin. You scared the shit out of me. I'm never letting you near the water again."

"I—" He remembered now. The way he'd sucked in that quick, shocked breath when he hit the
water. It was stupid but he'd been so surprised by the cold, the unbelievable chill of it against his
skin (sinking all the way in to the bone), and he'd sucked in that quick, shocked breath and nearly
died. "It's not like I'm going to do that again, Joonie. I'm fine now."

"You weren't fine," Namjoon said, voice quiet in the dark. "You weren't breathing, Jin. You weren't
fine.'

"I'm fine now," Jin repeated, rolling over onto his back. God, his chest hurt. "Did you do CPR?"

"You made me get certified when I got elected president, remember?"

"My chest feels like somebody hit it with a million hammers."

"You weren't breathing," Namjoon said again, infinitely more petulant this time. He lay down
again next to Jin, lying on his side so he could keep holding Jin's hand. "I couldn't just—"

"It's okay." Jin shook his head. Rubbed a hand over his face. "Thanks. Really." He glanced over
into Namjoon's face, shadowed and unreadable, and tried to flash a grin - knowing even as it
stretched over his face how cheap and transparent it was. "My hero."

There was a moment of quiet. "You scared the shit out of me, Jin."

And then - in the dark, in the quiet, with his chest hurt and his throat sore and his eyes still stinging
from seawater and Namjoon's fingers tangled in his - Jin was struck suddenly, horribly, terribly, by
how much he missed Kim Namjoon. This stupid kid. This distractible genius, this absolute goofball
nerd dad who worried too much and yet still thought it wasn't enough and he had a short temper
sometimes and infinite patience other times and he swore too much and he ate too much and he
didn't sleep at the right times and his room was an absolute disaster zone and Jin missed him. He
missed him already, he missed him preemptively, he could see the yawning chasm of distance
coming toward them on the horizon and even as much as his chest hurt and his throat ached and his
eyes stung that promise of distance was what hurt the most.

"I just…" Jin swallowed. "I just wish things could stay like this forever. You know? Nothing
more," he said quickly, tightening his hand on Namjoon's palm just in case - a quick squeeze of
reassurance. "Nothing less. Just us and the house and the kids."

Silence. Namjoon was turned toward him, lamp behind his head, so Jin couldn't see the expression
on his face. "Yeah," Namjoon said finally, voice strangely distant. He twisted his hand awkwardly,
threading their fingers together loosely. Carefully. Uncertainly. "Well… I'm not going anywhere."

Jin closed his eyes. Didn't say anything. Lay there in the quiet and missed Namjoon.

YOONGI
Thursday afternoon

"Jimin."

"I'm asleep," came Jimin's voice out of the pile of blankets, nasal and whiny. "Go away."

Yoongi glared irritably down at the bowl of rice and seaweed and seasoned octopus in his hand
like it was going to give him some kinda goddamn answer on how to fix this whole goddamn
thing. Jesus, it had been a whole day already (hell, almost two days - Jin had tumbled into the sea
on Tuesday and now it was Thursday morning) and Jimin was still skulking around like a kicked
puppy, shame and self-loathing writ large over his face, refusing food and mostly staying tucked up
in the queen-sized bed Hoseok had assigned him - curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows and
guilt with just his phone and a few books for company.

He got like this, sometimes. When he didn't do as well as he'd hoped on a test. When the critique
on one of his dance routines was just a little bit harsher than normal. God - Yoongi still shuddered
to think of the thundercloud of self-loathing that had settled over the house the time Jimin's dance
teacher had suggested he try losing a little bit more weight for the showcase.

Usually the rest of the inhabitants of the house would try waiting it out for a day or two (less if it
seemed really bad, maybe a little longer if Jimin was still doing things like eating and getting out of
bed) until they would eventually come to the unanimous consensus that enough was enough and
they'd send in the heavy artillery - which would almost invariably be Jin, armed with a blanket and
an animated kids movie and the promise of meat for dinner.

But this? This wasn't something Jin could fix. Jin had said a million times that he wasn't mad. He'd
said a million times that it was his mistake, that he'd been the one to slip, that anyway he was fine
and everything was okay so no one needed to blame themselves because it had all worked out - but
Jimin was still buried in the blankets, wracked with guilt and refusing food.

Yoongi had been in love with Jimin for a truly embarrassing amount of time before they'd ever
made it official (before they'd even made it semi-official, kissing uncertainly in Yoongi's bedroom
after Hoseok had locked them in together in an ultimately-successful attempt at getting them to talk
things out) and he'd known the whole damn time that this was part and parcel of being with Jimin.
Hell - it had been the first time that Jimin had come home looking like he'd seen a ghost and shut
himself in the room he shared with Tae that Yoongi had realized the unexpectedly high level of
concern bubbling in his stomach was more than just brotherly affection.

"You need to eat something," Yoongi said, keeping his voice low. He was bad at this. He was so
fucking bad at this, it was why Jin always went in to put the pieces of Jimin's self-confidence back
together like a puzzle and Yoongi had always hung back and felt useless. "It's been over a day,
Jimin, you've gotta—"

"I'm asleep." The mound of blankets shuddered slightly as Jimin rolled over to press his face into
his pillow, muffling his voice. "And I'm not hungry."

Yoongi sighed and set the bowl down on the nightstand before sitting down awkwardly at the edge
of the mattress. Raked a hand through his hair. Scratched his scalp awkwardly. God, how did Jin
do it? It was just Jin - Jin was their mom for a reason. He knew how to talk to all of them, how to
cool Yoongi's temper, how to soothe Hoseok's anxiety, how to reel Taehyung in, how to redirect
Jeongguk when he was starting to obsess, how to settle Namjoon with a touch and a look and a
quiet word.

He couldn't talk to Jimin the way Jin could. He didn't have the right words. He didn't have the right
voice. He was just himself, and he loved the hell out of this stupid self-flagellating kid, and he
didn't know what to say - but he tried anyway.

Yoongi pulled the duvet up and slipped in between the sheets, wiggling through the labyrinthine
mass of tangled cotton until he found Jimin's heat at the bottom of the pile. It was surprisingly
bright under the duvet, as heavy as it was - the curtains were open and the morning sun was
beaming in bright through the southeast-facing window and the bright white duvet was just thin
enough, just airy enough to let a sort of heavenly glow in under the sheets.

Jimin was lying on his side facing away, shoulders curved into himself in a way that made
Yoongi's chest knot up. He was wearing the same light blue t-shirt he'd worn to the pier on
Tuesday, the thin fabric soft and stretched out and wrinkled. His hair was messed up and tangled,
the back of his neck and the tips of his ears were very faintly pink (from the heat maybe, from the
tears Yoongi knew he'd only let out when he knew he was alone), he was shivering a little and his
face was pressed into the pillow.

Yoongi touched him gently, fingertips dragging down his spine. Thought hard. "Jimin," he said,
voice low. "Jimin, baby. Nobody's mad at you."

"I'm mad at me." God, god, his voice was cracking. "Hyung that was really really stupid and Jin-
hyung almost died and if I hadn't—"
"Babe." Yoongi shoved himself up on one elbow and pushed the duvet off to let in some fresh air.
"Babe. Listen. It was a mistake. It was an accident. Nobody's mad and everything is okay now and
you gotta forgive yourself. Accidents happen. Jin left Tae behind at a goddamn rest stop, for fuck's
sake. Tae threw pizza on the roof and Namjoon-hyung nearly fell to his death kicking it off. Hell,
Namjoon blew up Jin's goddamn stove. We've all made mistakes." He reached out, smoothed his
hand over Jimin's waist (firm and muscular and trim, jesus, it got to him every time) and leaned in
to press his lips to the back of Jimin's neck. "It happens. You're not immune. You're okay. You're
human."

"It was dumb." Jimin arched into him, voice getting thick and choked up. "It was dumb and I
should've—"

Yoongi's hand tightened over Jimin's waist. Dragged him in, rolled him over, kept his grip gentle
so that Jimin could pull away if he really, really wanted. Jimin's face was pink and damp with
tears, his eyes closed, his mouth tight, and god, god - even here, even now Jimin was the most
beautiful goddamn thing in Yoongi's entire goddamn life. So he leaned down. Took a deep breath.
Kissed at the tracks around the corners of Jimin's eyes where the tears had marked his cheeks,
kissed his eyelids, kissed that tight place of worry between his eyebrows.

"You're a nerd," Yoongi breathed into Jimin's skin, hand slipping under the hem of Jimin's t-shirt
to brush careful fingertips over his skin. "And an idiot. And a goofball."

Jimin made a tiny noise in the back of his throat and closed his eyes tighter.

"And I love you," Yoongi sighed against Jimin's mouth. "You're perfect. You're you. I wouldn't
have you any other way. I mean, fuck—" He pinched lightly at the softest place of Jimin's waist,
not that there was much of one. "You gotta make mistakes sometimes or we'd have to break up
cause I wouldn't have half a chance at deserving you. You gotta be at least a little bit of an idiot, to
be with me."

"Hyung…"

"Don't." Yoongi pushed himself up, bent down over and kissed carefully along the curve of Jimin's
cheek, tasting the salt and sweet of tears on the tip of his tongue. He kissed Jimin's temple, the
shell of his ear, ran his teeth delicately over the swell of Jimin's earlobe before moving down to the
sharp blade of Jimin's jawline. "Don't blame yourself. Please don't. Nobody's mad at you and
everything is okay and I love you and I'm worried about you."

Jimin sighed and tipped his chin up to expose his throat, looping an arm over Yoongi's shoulders.
"I'm sorry to worry you, it's not - ow!" His eyes shot open and he fixed Yoongi with an offended
glare, slapping a hand over the place on his throat where Yoongi had bit him. "Why the hell—"

"Stop apologizing," Yoongi growled, nosing Jimin's hand away to kiss the place where he'd nipped
gently at the thin skin of Jimin's throat. "You don't owe me any apologies, idiot. Just - god, let me
just try to make you feel better, okay?"

"I don't deserve to feel—"

"If you want me to stop," Yoongi interrupted, lips pressed to the base of Jimin's throat, "tell me so.
And I mean if you really really actually want me to stop. If you're enjoying it but you feel you don't
deserve it then just… don't, all right?" He glanced up. "Do you want me to stop? Be honest."

Jimin stared at him for a second and sucked in a shaking breath. "No," he said finally, voice thin.
"No, I… I don't want you to stop."
So Yoongi just leaned down into him. Pressed careful lips to his mouth, tongue sliding easily
between Jimin's teeth to lick into him and taste him. He'd kissed people before, Jimin wasn't the
first person he'd ever made out with by any means, but Jimin was the first person who could drive
him just a little bit insane like this. Maybe it was the way he tasted. The way he smelled. The way
he rolled his hips and made a high, sighing noise when Yoongi's fingertips slipped under the elastic
waistband of his pajama bottoms.

"Jesus, babe." Yoongi's hand trailed up Jimin's thigh, feeling the heat and the urgency in his skin.
"Already?"

"You're a really—" Jimin's breathe caught in his throat as Yoongi palmed him easily, long fingers
curling into a loose grip. He tipped his chin back and closed his eyes, one hand twisting in the
sheet. "Y-you're a really good kisser."

"Mm." Yoongi sat up a little. Hiked Jimin's t-shirt up over his chest so that he could curve in over
him and press open-mouthed kisses over the swell of his not-unimpressive pectoral muscles as he
began working his hand slow and careful in Jimin's pajamas. "We've barely done anything. Only
been together a few months. Just think what else I might be good at."

Jimin groaned, a high desperate noise, and brought a hand up to twist in Yoongi's hair. "I don't
even - ah—" He swallowed, rocking his hips up in a stuttered motion that was somehow still
smooth and perfect like a choreographed move in one of his dance routines. "I don't even know
what all there is, j-jesus - hyung—"

"When I graduate," Yoongi said, twisting his hand easily on the upstroke and drinking in the way
Jimin's eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted to suck in a shallow breath in response, "I'm gonna
get a job with Jiho-hyung. I'll get a place. You can sleep over, if you want. Whenever you want."
Jimin whimpered and shuddered, knees falling apart even further to give Yoongi even easier
access. "We can find out what all there is."

"Like - like what?" Fuck, it was adorable how goddamn hard Jimin tried to hold himself together
for as long as he could. Yoongi was pretty sure that if Jimin just let himself go he could get off in
about fifteen damn seconds but he fought himself the whole way down until he was crazy with it,
thick with it, unintelligible and practically delirious before he let himself tip over the edge.

"Like maybe I could fuck you," Yoongi growled into Jimin's chest. He bit gently into the skin and
tightened his grip, quickened the rhythm slightly. "Like maybe you could fuck me. You've got an
amazing dick - I've thought about riding you, you know that?" He took Jimin's gasp as
encouragement and nudged against him, licking a hot wet stripe over one of Jimin's nipples at the
same time as he dragged his thumb over the head of Jimin's dick. "I've thought about it a lot."

In the end he wasn't sure precisely what it was that did it - the (very slightly) dirty talk, the drag of
his thumb, the vaguely embarrassing confession, the heat of his mouth over Jimin's nipple - or
whether maybe it was just everything, everything all at once at the same time, tipping Jimin up to
the precipice and then over, jerking and shaking and pulsing his release hot over Yoongi's hand,
over his own stomach, arching up and gasping out a moan so thick and heavy that it sounded
almost like a sob.

There was a minute or two of almost silence, broken only by the sound of Yoongi's lips on Jimin's
skin, Jimin's ragged breathing slowing and sinking after the release. "Jesus," Jimin said finally,
voice faint. He pushed himself up on his hands to lean against the headboard and wet his lips
awkwardly, prodding at the come splattered haphazardly over his abs. "Yeah. Okay. I think I'd like
that."
Yoongi rolled over to grab a handful of tissue before coming back, tossing a couple to Jimin as he
wiped off his hand. "Being ridden?" He flashed Jimin a rude grin. "I've heard it can be fun. Both
sides of the equation."

Jimin's cheeks went pink and he bit his lips together, focusing intently on wiping himself off. "Y-
yeah. Yeah. I think… I think I'd like to find out. About both sides of the equation." He tipped his
head back and took a deep breath. "Okay. You're right. I feel better."

"Better enough to eat something?"

Jimin made a face and opened his mouth, but instead his stomach growled threateningly. He closed
his mouth quickly, teeth clicking together as his cheeks pinked a little with embarrassment.
"Yeah," he said after a second. "Okay, yeah. I could eat something."

Yoongi grinned and planted a sloppy kiss on Jimin's temple. "Pretty sure the food I brought you
half an hour ago isn't that good anymore," he said, rolling over to swing his legs off the mattress.
"I'll go get you something fresh, all right?" He stood up and paused. "How about you get dressed?
Come out and eat in the dining room? I think Tae and Jeongguk are playing Mario Kart again. We
could join in."

"Yeah." Jimin rolled over onto his stomach. "Yeah, okay."

Yoongi took a second to wash his hands in the bathroom before wandering out into the hallway,
through the living room (Jeongguk and Taehyung absorbed in Mario Kart, Hoseok throwing
Yoongi an amused, knowing look over the back of the couch), past the dining room and into the
kitchen. "Hey," he called over his shoulder, dumping the rice and seaweed and slightly worse-for-
wear octopus out into the garbage before setting the bowl in the sink and opening the cabinet to
find a fresh dish. "Where are Jin and Namjoon?"

"Just missed 'em," came Hoseok's voice floating in from the living room, over the utterly betrayed
shrieks of a Taehyung who had been hit by a well-timed blue shell. "They just left to hit the
grocery store. How's Jimin?"

"Better." Yoongi piled the bowl with rice. Spooned some tuna over it, stuck some seaweed on top,
grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the door and making his way back out into the dining room. He
set the bowl down, and—

"Did Namjoon-hyung leave his wallet?" he yelled out, picking up the square of folded leather that
sat at the head of the table.

"Could be mine," Jeongguk called back. "Check the ID."

Yoongi shrugged and flipped it open, pulling out the ID card. Sure enough, it was Namjoon's: there
was a GPS tracking sticker under the front flap that started making a shrill little beeping noise as he
opened it, probably when Namjoon had realized the wallet was missing and hit the button on his
phone app to find it. Namjoon's photo on his ID was absolutely fucking terrible, it was hilarious -
he'd pulled an all-nighter the night before and his eyes were huge with the effort of looking awake,
but the end result was just looking like he'd experienced something very illegal and very terrifying.

The front door opened and the sound of Namjoon tumbling back over the threshold floated back
through the house just as Yoongi started to slip the ID back into its clear sleeve—

Wait.

Wait, hold the fuck up.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? This was fucking impossible. Yoongi glared down at the ID
like it had offended his mother - his heartbeat whispering in his ears, his pulse ringing in the back
of his head, his vision practically tunneling as his senses heightened in some kind of attempt at
proving his eyes wrong. There was… there was no fucking way.

But no. The truth of it was staring him right in the face. He'd just been too fucking stupid for the
last three goddamn years to recognize it.

Namjoon skidded over the floorboards into the dining room, grin stretching over his face as he saw
his wallet in Yoongi's hand. "Ah, thank god," he stuttered, striding forward and holding out a hand.
"I thought I left it on the damn pier or something—"

"Hyung," Yoongi said, voice tight, not looking up. Jimin appeared in the door of the dining room,
cheeks still a little pink from their slightly illicit activities.

"Don't call me hyung," Namjoon shot back, coming to a stop next to him, still holding his hand out
for his wallet. "C'mon bro Jin's waiting for me in the car, gimme my wallet, we gotta go get—"

"Hyung," Yoongi repeated, glancing up and fixing Namjoon with a glare so red-hot and furious
that it pinned him down like a butterfly in a shadowbox. "When were you planning on telling us
that you're younger than Hoseok?"

There was a moment of silence.

From the living room, Hoseok's voice. "Wait, what the fuck?"

There was a very complicated few minutes. Most of it involved yelling, until Jin stepped into the
dining room and said, "I can explain."

All of them looked up - and Jin smiled, nervous and awkward as he spread his palms wide in a
placating gesture. "I can explain," he said again. "It's not really that complicated."

"What the fuck," Yoongi spat out, "is there to explain? Namjoon-hy— Namjoon has been fuckin'
lying to us since day one—" He stopped short and glared up at Jin, who'd stepped in to take a seat
calmly next to Namjoon. "Wait, you knew? This whole time you knew?!"

Jin shrugged and sat back in his chair. "Of course I know," he said smoothly. "Joonie can't drive.
Who do you think took him to the DMV?"

"I've been calling you hyung for three goddamn years," Yoongi moaned, pressing his forehead into
the table. "You let me call you hyung—"

"He tells you not to," Jin interjected, arching one eyebrow. "Both you and Hoseok. Every single
time. Not his fault you don't listen."

"He could've told us how old he is," Hoseok mumbled under his breath, passing a hand over his
face.

"It's embarrassing," Namjoon said, finally speaking up for himself. He glanced up, cheeks red. "All
right? It's embarrassing. I started university when I was sixteen and everybody made fun of me so I
just… let people assume whatever, all right? I tell you not to call me hyung and anyway it's like a
house rule that we all call each other by our first names—"

Yoongi sneered. "Yeah and whose bright idea was that?"

"Mine," Jin said.

Everyone turned to look at him except Namjoon, who just stared down at his hands twisted
together in his lap. "What?" Taehyung said, saying what they were all thinking.

Jin shrugged. Sighed. "It was before any of you rushed. The founding president, Woo Jiho - when
he graduated Joonie got elected to be the president. He was nineteen and worried that no one was
going to listen to him so I suggested that we enact a house rule that we all call each other by our
first names. Since we're all equals," he added, fixing Yoongi with a Look.

"Is that true?" Yoongi glanced up hotly, trying to force Namjoon to look at him. "What Jin-hyung's
saying - it true, Joonie?"

But then there was a noise like a gunshot and everyone jumped. A palm, slapping down hard onto
the teak table, possibly even harder than Yoongi's hand had done minutes before.

"No," Jin said calmly, hand out flat on the table in front of him. The tips of his ears were pink. His
eyes were dark. For perhaps the first time Yoongi could remember he actually looked dangerous.
"You can call him Namjoon. If he doesn't mind, you can call him Namjoon-ah, or Joon-ah. But no
one," he continued, eyes dragging around the table with a tangible heat and weight, "gets to call
him Joonie. Except for me."

He took a deep breath. Scooted his chair out. Stood up. Leaned forward, plucked Namjoon's wallet
out of Yoongi's suddenly unresisting fingers, and nudged Namjoon on the shoulder. "He's still the
president," Jin said, voice smooth and eyes downcast. "You voted for him. You put your faith in
him. He hasn't let you down. He hasn't even lied to you - you just didn't pay enough attention. You
have no one to blame but yourselves. Come on, Joonie." Namjoon glanced up, and Jin smiled -
eyes curving sweetly. "Let's go to the grocery store. I'm making beef tonight."

Namjoon stood up in silence. Followed Jin out of the dining room in silence. The quiet was broken
only by the sound of Jin and Namjoon struggling into their shoes, opening the door, closing the
door. Van doors slamming shut. Engine roaring to life.

A few minutes passed.

"Does anyone else kinda get the feeling," Taehyung said thoughtfully, the first to break the
pregnant silence, "that Jin-hyung is actually the one in charge?"

NAMJOON
Friday morning

On Friday morning Namjoon woke up to rain spitting against the window and he rolled over.
Poked Jin sleepily on the arm. "Yah. Jin."

Jin screwed his eyes shut. "Nn."

"I'm ready to go home."

Jin sighed sleepily and rolled over, pressing his forehead into the hollow between Namjoon's throat
and his shoulder. "Issbeen kinda a big vacation," he slurred, voice loose and heavy with sleep.
"Yeah. Yeah. Let's go home. But like…" There was movement against Namjoon's throat, and after
a second he realized it was Jin's eyelashes brushing over the skin as he opened his eyes. "Maybe…
later. In a little bit." He closed his eyes again and settled a little, wiggling deeper into Namjoon's
shoulder. "Sleep more first."

"Okay," Namjoon said, patting Jin awkwardly on the shoulder. "Yeah, you can sleep more."

"Mm." Jin slipped his hand over Namjoon's waist as his breath slowed and deepened back into
sleep. "Thanks, babe."

"Okay," Namjoon said again.

It was dark by the time Jin pulled the van into the driveway back at the Beta Tau Sigma house.

The drive up had been quiet - Yoongi had been all but completely silent since Thursday afternoon,
Taehyung and Jeongguk sat in the back hissing over their games, Jimin and Hoseok had both fallen
asleep. Traffic wasn't as bad in the middle of the day on a Friday, so they made it in five hours
instead of eight, and this time Jin did a quick head count before leaving any rest stops.

Tae and Jeongguk were tasked with unloading the luggage, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin were
tasked with getting everything back into the respective rooms, Jin went into the kitchen to start
pulling together something to eat, and Namjoon went to grab the mail. It felt good. It felt right. It
felt… it felt domestic, Namjoon mused, after nearly a week of weird bullshit and being scared half
to death and Yoongi losing his shit and everything going weird. But they were back, and everything
was back to normal, and what was it that Jin had said?

I just wish things could stay like this forever. No more. No less.

Namjoon was beginning to wonder if he wished that exact same thing. The no more was starting to
get to him - that morning Jin had sighed against his throat and said thanks babe and Namjoon had
found himself so fucking comfortable with it that it almost hurt. God knew if Jin would ever, could
ever return that same feeling of comfort and home, but… but Namjoon was beginning to wonder,
that was all.

As it was, being home felt good. Checking the mail felt good. Getting back to normal felt good.

Back in the kitchen Jin was in his bright pink COOKING MAMA apron puttering around starting
water boiling for ramen when Namjoon dumped the huge stack of mail on the kitchen table.
"There's some stuff in here for you," he said, scooting a couple of catalogs and a single yellow
envelope across the table toward Jin. "I think the rest is junk, but I gotta sort through it."

"Yeah," Jin said distractedly, dumping a measure of sesame oil into the water before wandering
over and picking up the few pieces of mail with his name on them.

After a minutes the water was boiling and steam was starting to billow upward. Jimin and Hoseok
tumbled into the kitchen and started digging through the fridge, Yoongi following close behind
with his hands in his pockets. "Hey," Yoongi said, glaring at the stove. "You havin' Namjoon
watch that again? After last time?"

Jin was just staring at the envelope in his hands. It was a little bit battered, like it had gotten stuck
in a mailbag somewhere, and he was just staring at it. Namjoon glanced down at the envelope then
up into Jin's face, pausing for a second as he shuffled through the rest of the mail that had built up
over their week away - junk mail, bills, something from the library that looked worryingly like an
overdue notice for the book Namjoon was pretty sure was buried in his room somewhere - and
nodding at him. "You gonna open it?"
 "Yeah," Jin said quickly, voice distant. He fumbled with the envelope for a second, fingers
struggling with the corner before finally finding purchase and ripping it open carefully. "Yeah, I'm
- I'm opening it, I just—"

But he'd pulled the letter out and unfolded it. The now-empty envelope slipped from his fingers
and he didn't seem to notice. He flipped over the first page to the second and scanned it more and
more hurriedly, eyes skimming over the words.

Namjoon set the mail down on the table. "Jin. What's up?"

"I've been…" Jin swallowed. Looked at the first page, then the second, then the first again. "I've
been accepted. Invited. Into one of the most prestigious post-doctoral programs out there. In…" He
blanched. "In the capital."

Namjoon felt his lungs constrict traitorously. "Like in Seoul? That's - that's not too far, we can still
—"

"No," Jin interrupted, not looking up from the letter. "Not Seoul. Washington DC. I've been
accepted into the FDA's post-doctoral program. In the United States."

Chapter End Notes

DISCLAIMER: i've never been a doctoral candidate and have only a very vague idea
of how this shit works, sorry, i just needed Jin to get an offer to go faaar far away
 Interlude - April
Chapter Notes

guess who finally got to 50k on their piece of original fiction even though they kept
getting distracted by BTS short fic

this means NANOWRIMO SEMI-HIATUS IS COMPLETE, TIME GO BACK TO

Y'ALL HATING ME :D here have a super short interlude [throws a smoke bomb and
disappears]

"Holy shit," Yoongi said after a minute. "Hyung, that's - seriously, the FDA? That's fuckin'
amazing, holy shit, congratulations—"

"That's awesome," Jimin breathed, a huge proud grin starting to stretch over his face. "Jin-hyung,
wow, that's like… that's really, really big!"

"Huge," Jin said, voice quiet as he stared down at the paper. "It's huge. They invite less than a
hundred people every year and there are no guaranteed spots for international applicants. I figured
- I figured that there was no possible way, you know?"

"Um," Hoseok said slowly, swinging the fridge closed. "Wait, so like… the US?" Yoongi glanced
up at him but Hoseok wasn't looking at Jin as he spoke. "That far away? Wow."

"Yeah." Jin shook his head. "The United States. Washington DC."

Hoseok whistled a long, low, descending note - and Yoongi was struck, suddenly, by the
realization that Hoseok had always been a bit of a canary in a coal mine, predicting how things
would go and picking up on how things already had gone and knowing exactly what was
happening at all times even when everyone else was (sometimes literally) in the dark. He'd act like
a goofball but he always seemed to know what to do and when to do it and what to say (and, for
that matter, what not to say) and now for some reason he was beginning to look a little bit green. A
little bit worried. A little bit like he was starting to inch toward the door out of the kitchen and into
the corridor. But why…?

"What the hell?"

Namjoon's voice.

Yoongi turned his head, and figured out all at once what Hoseok had been watching when he'd
spoken a moment ago.

"What the hell, Jin," Namjoon said again, standing up from the table. His cheeks were flushed with
something that looked for all the world like fury and his hands were shaking at his sides and his
voice was coming out strangled and hoarse. "Jin what the hell, you never - you never said a
goddamn thing about this, why the fuck wouldn't you tell me you were applying for this? I'm the
president and you're the vice president, why the hell—"

"Joonie," Jin said, looking up from the letter in his hands for the first time since he'd opened the
yellow envelope. "I don't know if—"
"No," Namjoon said, swiping a hand in front of him like he was swatting a fly. He looked
desperate and confused and almost like he was about to throw a fit or yell or maybe just start
crying, and Yoongi had never once seen him like this. Not once. He'd been mad before, sure. He'd
been frustrated and angry and sad and confused and embarrassed but this was something new and
different and unbelievably uncomfortable to witness. "No, god damn it, no, Jin - Jin, we talk to
each other about shit like this, that's like - that's the deal, and you're just gonna apply for some
kinda fuckin' post-doc program overseas and not even mention it? What the hell are we supposed
to do without you?"

"Hire a cook like all the other frats," Jin shot back, starting to look a little bewildered. "Joonie, you
knew I was going to be graduating soon, I'm up for final defense next term, I've been talking about
it since—"

"But you were going to stay in the country." Namjoon raked both hands through his hair, bent a
little at the waist, tried to breathe. "You were gonna - I mean I figured you would at least - you
belong here, Jin, why didn't you even tell me—"

"We should go," Hoseok hissed into Yoongi's ear, looping a hand around his elbow. "We should
go downstairs. Like right now."

"Last I checked," Jin said, raising his voice a little as he set the letter down on the counter next to
him, "I'm my own person. I don't belong to this university, I don't belong to Beta Tau Sigma, and I
have certainly never belonged to you."

Yoongi hooked onto Jimin as he and Hoseok ducked past, making for the basement door as fast as
they could. "What the hell is happening?" Jimin whispered, voice high, eyes huge.

"Mom and dad," Hoseok hissed back, pulling the door open and gesturing frantically down the
stairs, "are fighting."

"I never said you belonged to me," Namjoon was saying, yelling almost, as Yoongi shoved Jimin
through the door into the dark of the basement, scrambling on the wall for the light switch. "I
never fucking said you did, but for fuck's sake when the hell did you apply to go to the fucking
United States and why the fuck didn't you tell me? Why did you keep it a secret? Did you think I'd
be mad?!"

"I didn't think you'd be mad," Jin yelled back, "because I thought you were a reasonable human
being, but apparently I was wrong!"

"Oh shit," Hoseok muttered under his breath, closing the door behind them and taking a deep
breath.

The yelling was muffled now, enough that they couldn't quite piece words together anymore
beyond a few fucks Namjoon threw in from time to time (baritone voice humming in the
floorboards), and Yoongi stood on the stairs holding tight to Jimin's bicep and staring up at
Hoseok. "What the hell," he said quietly. "What the hell was that."

"A ticking goddamn time bomb," Hoseok sighed, taking a step down the stairs and shoving Yoongi
and Jimin down in front of him. "That's what it was. I just… thought we had more time."

"You knew?!" Jimin threw a look of shock and horror at Hoseok over his shoulder as he tripped
down the stairs and onto the creaking landing at the bottom. "You knew this whole time that Jin-
hyung had applied for the program, and you didn't—"
"Hell no," Hoseok cut him off, pushing past and flopping down onto one of the big arm chairs set
up in the vast basement space, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. The basement used to act
as additional bedrooms a couple years ago when the frat had more active members living at the
house, and now it was just a big unfinished room filled with couches, extra storage, space that
Hoseok had slowly started taking over a year ago to work on his research projects. "No clue. He
probably sent that in like last summer or something, knowing how those things work." He rubbed
both hands over his face. "Jesus, this throws a wrench into just about everything."

Yoongi sank down onto the couch, dragging Jimin down in next to him. "What the hell are you
talking about?"

"Look, it's…" Hoseok flinched as a particularly loud shout echoed down the staircase. "It's
complicated, and I'm… not really sure about all of it."

"Not really sure about what?" Jimin curled his legs under him. "Why is this a time bomb? What
'everything' is there to throw a wrench into?"

"You know how everybody was convinced Jin and Namjoon were doin' it until like February when
it turned out they weren't?"

Jimin and Yoongi glanced at each other. "Well," Yoongi said cautiously, "yeah, but—"

"They weren't," Hoseok interrupted, waving a hand. "And I'm like ninety percent sure they still
aren't—"

Jimin goggled. "Only ninety percent?"

"—but something has been coming for a while." Hoseok shrugged. "I figured it was going to
happen around the time Jin graduated, but… yeah, I guess not." He sighed and ran a hand through
his hair. "You think you know people…"

There was a sudden, huge crash from the general direction of the kitchen and all three of them
froze in the complete silence that followed. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen, and then there was
the sound of someone stomping out of the kitchen, down the corridor, up the stairs.

"Are they throwing things?" Jimin whispered.

But then the door to the basement opened and Jin's voice, careful and even and clear, floated down
the stairs: "Yoongi?"

Yoongi flinched and screwed his eyes shut, feeling Jimin's hand tighten protectively on his upper
leg. "Yes?"

"Could you come up please?"

Climbing the stairs only felt a little bit like walking to his own execution. It could have been worse
- at least now he knew that Namjoon was upstairs, gone, and he wasn't walking into a virtual
warzone - but still Yoongi wondered what, exactly, Jin could possibly need him for that he couldn't
do for himself. When he reached the top of the stairs Jin was standing there holding the door open
still wearing the COOKING MAMA apron and staring tight lipped at the floor.

"Everything okay?" Yoongi hazarded, knowing even as the words left his mouth that it was the
exact wrong thing to say.

Jin's eyes flickered up briefly - just enough that Yoongi could see the shine of tears caught in his
lashes - and he shrugged, grinning slightly. "I don't ever know what the deal is with Joonie," he
said, voice quiet. "I need your help, one of the—"

Yoongi stepped in close, worry twisting in his gut. "Did he hit you? There was a big noise, and…"

But then - the look Jin shot him was nothing short of shocked, skeptical, annoyed. "What? No, god,
Yoongi—" He rolled his eyes and brushed his bangs out of his face a little. "He pulled out a chair
to sit down and one of the legs came off. Barely caught himself before hitting the ground." He
waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. "You're the handy one around here, do you
think you can check it out? See if you can fix it enough to use until we can find time to replace it?"

"He broke a chair," Yoongi said. "Namjoon broke a chair. On accident."

"Right." Jin gave him another funny look. "I mean - we were arguing, sure, but do you really think
he'd lay a hand on me?"

"No?" No, he didn't. Not really. But for a second he'd been scared. "It was… it was a really big
noise." Yoongi wet his lips nervously. "And you… what do you mean, you never know what the
deal is with Namjoon? You two are like…" He held up crossed fingers, suddenly at a loss for
words.

"Yeah, well," Jin said. "I guess not."

And then he burst into tears.

 The One Where Jin Hyosang Makes An Overture
Chapter Notes

are you ready kids

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:47, May 7
BRO COME DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT NOW

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 14:48, May 7
y??? kinda busy

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:48, May 7
GET OFF YOONGI-HYUNG'S DICK AND COME DOWNSTAIRS

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:48, May 7
BRING HIM TOO

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 14:48, May 7
omfg im not on his dick

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:49, May 7
GET HIM OFF YOURS THEN

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:49, May 7
BRO

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 14:49, May 7
tae wtf r u talking abt?????

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:50, May 7
BRO SERIOUSLY JIN-HYUNG'S EX-BOYFRIEND IS HERE

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:50, May 7
THEY'RE ON THE PORCH RIGHT NOW
From: Kim Taehyung
Sent: 14:50, May 7
KOOKIE AND I THINK THEY'RE GONNA KISS OR SOMETHING

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 14:51, May 7
exbf?????

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:51, May 7
YEAH, JIN HYOSANG, THEY DATED FOR LIKE SIX YEARS

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:51, May 7
BRO HE GOT DRUNK ONCE AND YOU AND I WERE THE ONLY ONES WHO WERE
STILL AWAKE AND HE TOLD US ALL ABOUT IT AND CRIED

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:51, May 7
WERE YOU SERIOUSLY THAT DRUNK? IT WAS SO WEIRD

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 14:52, May 7
……………………………… holy shit

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 14:52, May 7
no wonder

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 14:52, May 7
brt, have to get off yoongi-hyung's dick

From: Kim Taehyung

Sent: 14:53, May 7
BRO THAT'S GROSS

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 14:52, May 7
u started it????????

From: Park Jimin

Sent: 14:52, May 7
cock block

When Jimin hit the last landing Jeongguk was standing on the step just inside the first landing,
holding one finger desperately in front of his mouth. "Stay quiet," he whispered, beckoning
quickly. "They're seriously right outside the door."
Yoongi came thumping down the stairs after him, looking dark-eyed and irritable. "What the hell
—" But Jimin shook his head quickly, and Yoongi closed his mouth. "What the hell is going on?"
he said, this time his voice hushed and quiet. "Jiminnie said something about Jin-hyung's ex-
boyfriend? Jin-hyung doesn't—"

"Jin Hyosang," Jeongguk interrupted. "You remember. From the Halloween party? At the Tau
Delta house? We ran into this guy and Namjoon-hyung had to take Jin-hyung home—"

Yoongi opened his mouth. Closed his mouth. Blinked a few times. "Oh. Holy shit. That actually…
that actually explains a whole hell of a lot. The fuck did you find this out?"

Jeongguk gestured over his shoulder. "Tae… um…" He glanced back - the mid-spring light was
arcing in through the side lights, illuminating the entryway in all of its messy glory. Roughly one
thousand pairs of Namjoon's shoes were scattered across the floor, coats hanging on hooks,
backpacks dumped on the ground left to lie where they'd fallen, and Taehyung was shoved up
against the front door with his ear pressed tight against the wood. "Tae—"

"I can't tell what they're saying," Taehyung hissed, flapping a hand irritably. "Just—"

Jeongguk sighed and stepped down into the entryway, wrapping his arms around Taehyung's waist
and lifting him easily. "Yoongi-hyung has questions," he said, setting Taehyung down again and
pushing his own ear up against the door instead. "Go talk to him. I'll listen."

"Wait, so all that time we thought Namjoon and Jin-hyung were doin' it," Yoongi muttered under
his breath to Taehyung, yanking him in close by his collar, "and it turns out they weren't. But Jin-
hyung is gay?"

Taehyung shrugged, apparently not bothered at all by all the manhandling. "Dunno if he's gay? But
he dated this Hyosang guy for six years so stands to reason he's at least, you know, like…" He
made a face and wobbled a hand back and forth as if to imply a degree of uncertainty. "… a little
bit gay. Six years worth of gay. Maybe he's just like a Kinsey 1 and this guy's the exception or
whatever, I dunno, it's not like human sexuality isn't inherently malleable anyway, and—"

"Hell," Yoongi sighed, shoving him off. "You hang out with Namjoon too much." He stepped
carefully down onto the linoleum of entryway to stand next to Jimin, brushing the backs of his
fingers over Jimin's wrist to silently signal his presence. "Sup?"

Jimin shrugged with one shoulder, slumping slowly against the wall to try to get a better view
through the side lights on either side of the solid wooden door. "Can't tell. They're standing pretty
close together but I can't see their faces. Kookie?"

"Don't call me Kookie," Jeongguk mumbled automatically, glancing up after a second and shaking
his head. "I can hear them, but I can't pick out any individual words that well. I think they're
talking about—"

Suddenly the words filtered through loud and clear as someone (not Jin - had to be this Hyosang
guy) raised his voice and said, "America? Seriously? America?!" but he quickly hushed when Jin
held up a hand, running his fingers over Hyosang's shoulder.

As if summoned by the words the door down to the basement opened and Hoseok stuck his head
out into the corridor. He glared over at the group of them huddled in the entryway, eyes going wide
and eyebrows arching curiously. "Do I wanna know," he said slowly, "what's goin' on up here?"

Taehyung stepped lightly up into the house, propelling himself along the hardwood on slick
polyester lion socks. "Jin-hyung's on the porch," he said, keeping his voice low in a stage whisper
as he closed in on Hoseok. "That Hyosang guy is here, you remember - from the Halloween—"

"Jin's ex," Hoseok said. "Yeah, I know." A look of sudden terror passed over his face. "Wait, shit -
he's here? And they're talking? Together? Face to face?" He scrambled up onto the main floor of
the house, leaving the door down to the basement hanging open. "Shit, this is - somebody tell me
Namjoon's still in his room—"

"Pretty sure," Jimin said, glancing at Yoongi out of the corner of his eye. Yoongi just shrugged, as
if to strongly imply that his over-excitable roommate moved in mysterious ways. "Why? And what
do you mean you know that Jin Hyosang and Jin-hyung used to—"

"Because I have eyeballs," Hoseok bit out quietly, stumbling over the step of the entryway before
coming up short in front of the door - the gears in his head turning so fast Jimin could almost see
smoke coming from his ears with the speed and fury of it. "Guys seriously, Jin Hyosang was the
vice-president of the Tau Deltas before Beta Tau Sigma broke off and their relationship was like an
open secret in the Music department."

Yoongi sputtered. "But Namjoon didn't - and I never—"

"You weren't involved in the Music department until after Jin-hyung and Hyosang broke up,"
Hoseok said, tossing a look at Yoongi over his shoulder. "And Namjoon's only a genius when it
comes to math and music. He's shit at interpersonal relationships." He paused, ducking over to
glance out one of the side lights at the scene on the porch. "I think Jin-hyung thinks it's cute. God
save the poor bastard. They haven't kissed or anything, right?"

"Don't think so," Taehyung said, glancing worriedly between Yoongi and Hoseok's faces. "Far as
Kookie and I can tell they've just been talking."

"Arguing," Jeongguk cut in, ear still pressed to the door. "They mighta' started out talking but
they're definitely arguing now."

"Shit." Hoseok twisted his hands into his fists as he stared out the side light as inconspicuously as
possible. "Shit. Shit, we can't - we can't let 'em kiss, you guys—"

Yoongi blew a raspberry. "Hoseok-ah, Kookie literally just said they're arguing—"

"I said don't call me Kookie!"

"—since when do people start makin' the fuck out during a fight?" There was a moment of quiet,
and when he caught the look Jimin was directing at him he flinched a little. "What?"

"You're still pretty, babe," Jimin said after a second, patting Yoongi affectionately on the arm
before turning toward Hoseok. "Why can't we—"

"Shit," Hoseok hissed through his teeth. There was movement on the porch. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

One of the floorboards at the top of the stairs creaked, and then Namjoon's voice floating down the
steps: "Do I wanna know what you're all whispering about down there?"

"God fucking damn it," Hoseok breathed. "They're fuckin' kissing."

 NAMJOON
Immediately after getting back from Spring break

He'd made a deal.

It hadn't been with anyone; it had been with the air, the sea, the universe, whatever (surely
nonexistent) deity might be listening, but god - god, he'd made a deal. Four days ago everything
had been fine. It had been weird, sure, but it had been fine - the kind of fine that Namjoon would
have given up anything to hold onto. The kind of fine that when he looked up and saw Jin
overbalancing at the edge of that platform, when he was standing up and tearing his sweatshirt off
before he could even think, when he was diving into the water without even considering the
consequences… the kind of fine that when Jin had been lying there on the wood paneling of the
pier without even the whisper of movement in his chest and his lips blue and his skin bloodless,
Namjoon had made a deal.

I'll give up everything, anything, just to make sure Jin makes it out of this alive.

He hadn't thought about it then (especially not when Jin sucked in that strangled breath and
coughed the water up out of his lungs onto the pier) but everything and anything technically
counted Jin himself. It had to, because Jin was - Jin was something. Jin was kind of everything, in
a weird way. They'd been together (they'd been friends) for four years now and Namjoon couldn't
fucking wrap his mind around the idea that Jin wouldn't be constantly just a shout away, just
downstairs or on the other side of a shared bathroom door or on the opposite end of the couch, next
to him in the dark.

Next to him in the dark, reaching out and sleepily begging him not to leave. Next to him in the
dark, firelight playing over his face on Christmas eve. Next to him in the dark, streetlights shining
strange and golden-green on the tear-tracks on his cheeks. Next to him in the dark - pretending that
he was the one having a hard time getting to sleep in order to preserve some semblance of
Namjoon's dignity.

Next to him. Just… just next to him. It was everything, how Jin had been there next to him for the
last four goddamn years, and Namjoon had never expected (had never wanted to think) that Jin
might drop away someday. Might leave his side. Might leave and drift slowly distant like two
ships pulling farther and farther apart in a diverging current.

Even if Namjoon hadn't made that stupid fucking deal. If he'd never seen Jin tip into the water
from a great height. If he'd never done a lot of things, seen a lot of things, thought a lot of things -
still Namjoon couldn't bring himself to ask Jin to stay.

He lay face down on his bed with his face buried in his pillow and the sounds of the house
creaking and settling around him. He could hear voices from the ground floor (cautious and
curious, that funny note of worry that painted Jimin's timbre when he was nervous about
something), he could hear wind rustling in the new leaves outside, he could hear the furnace
groaning and rattling to life as the temperature in the house sunk down below comfortable room
temperature.

He didn't hear Jin. He couldn't hear Jin's voice. He couldn't hear Jin's footsteps on the stairs (a few
people had come up and gone down again but at some point over the last four years he'd
memorized the unique fingerprint of Jin's feet on the steps) and it ached. It was like he was already
gone, out of Namjoon's reach.

Maybe that was for the best? Maybe he should just try to pretend that Jin was already gone, maybe
it would make it easier. He could get used to the idea so when the term ended and Jin walked for
his diploma and packed up his room and went to the airport and disappeared into the ether it
wouldn't be so goddamn impossible to think about.

It wasn't because of anything. It had just been four years (did those four years even mean a thing to
Jin? did they mean a single goddamn thing?) and even before then Jin had been taking care of
Namjoon in his funny, quiet way. Taking care of him when he was just one more drunk kid in the
Tau Delta movie room. Tucking a blanket over him on the couch. Making sure he ate when he was
caught up in a composition, making sure he woke up on time for tests. And then when Beta Tau
Sigma had exploded violently into being out of the wreckage of the Tau Delta government Jin had
been there too, backing him up and having his back and taking care of the things he couldn't figure
out for himself because he was smart, not experienced, and Jin always knew what to say.

It had been four years. It had been even more than four years in a way, but it had been four years
since Namjoon had invited Jin to stay in his room at the Beta Tau Sigma house and they'd grown
accustomed to each other (they'd gotten close, didn't that mean anything?) and now - and now
what?

Namjoon couldn't bring himself to ask Jin to stay. His head buzzed and his pulse thumped in his
ears and every nerve felt like it was trying to crawl out of his skin but he couldn't think of a single
goddamn reason why he could ask Jin to stay. Because I'll miss you was the stupidest fucking thing
he'd ever heard. Because it won't be the same without you was a close second. Because it's been
four whole years with your support and I can't do this without you was quickly climbing the
Incredibly Stupid Reasons list forming in Namjoon's head.

Because it's only been four years, said a voice in the back of Namjoon's head. It's only been four
years and I'm not ready for this to be over. I thought I had more time. I thought we had more time.
I thought if things just stayed like this forever I could have half a chance at being happy. If things
just stayed like this.

That wasn't quite right, though. Not like this. Not just like this. He couldn't work out what exactly
he wanted things to be like, but Jin vanishing in a puff of smoke didn't factor into that idyllic
universe at all.

He lay there for what must have been hours until finally he heard it - the sound of Jin climbing the
stairs.

He'd learned most of them, eventually. Yoongi climbed the stairs like he had something to prove.
Taehyung ran up two at a time. Hoseok practically fell up the stairs in an untraceable tumble.
Jimin's pace was even but quick, short legs pumping like he was on a stair master. Namjoon was
still learning Jeongguk but mostly that was because he sounded so much like Taehyung and it was
taking more study than usual to differentiate them.

Jin, though. Namjoon couldn't remember ever learning the sound of Jin's footsteps on the stairs -
he'd just known it one day, no conscious effort expended, and from then on he always knew when
Jin was coming or going or stopping or waiting or (on rare occasions) tripping on his own feet and
falling down a little. He'd never had to try to learn Jin, he'd just known one day. Jin had slipped
into his life through the back door and by the time Namjoon noticed what had happened it was like
Jin had always been there and Namjoon couldn't imagine life without him.

When Jin climbed the stairs Namjoon had been lying on his bed for hours in the dark, still wearing
the jeans he'd worn on the drive back up from the beach (the jeans he'd worn to check the mail, the
jeans he'd been wearing when Jin announced his quickly-approaching abandonment) and unable to
even consider sleeping. Jin climbed the stairs. Walked down the hallway, floorboards creaking
under his weight. Paused in the space between their two bedroom doors. (They'd spent four years
by each other's sides. That meant something, right? It had to mean something.)

Maybe Jin would knock on the door and come in and let Namjoon know that it had all been some
kind of horrible joke. Maybe he'd read the letter wrong or something.

Please, god. Please, god, let it all be some kind of horrible joke. Please let Jin knock on his door.
Please let this just be a nightmare so he wouldn't have to lie here caught in the mire of his own
tortured indecision.

The sound of a door opening, hinges creaking - Jin's door.

The latch clicked, and there was silence.

Namjoon turned his head on his pillow to glance over at the clock on his nightstand. It was nearly
midnight.

It was nearly midnight, and of course Jin wouldn't knock on his door. Of course Jin wouldn't want
to talk to him. He'd acted like a total entitled asshole, talking like Jin was duty-bound to share
every damn secret and mention every damn career opportunity and write Namjoon big long lists of
any and all future plans like Namjoon was some kind of hyper-controlling guidance counselor.
Why the fuck would Jin come over and talk to him?

It was nearly midnight, and Jin was leaving, and Namjoon had fucked up everything beyond repair.

JEONGGUK

The beginning of Spring term started like any other Spring term might have done - there were new
leaves on the trees and the air was beginning to warm up and the jocks were starting to come out in
full force in the full early-spring uniform of tank tops and obnoxious sunglasses, driving
convertibles with the top down and playing bad music too loud in the middle of the afternoon. The
world seemed to be waking up after winter and everything seemed fresh and new and crisp (one
morning Jeongguk woke up the sound of a lawn mower somewhere down the block and was
bowled over by how much it sounded like summer, creeping in under the door) and things were…
things were weird.

None of them saw Namjoon for a few days, a week maybe, until one night at three in the morning
Jeongguk woke up starving and went down to the kitchen only to find Namjoon at the kitchen table
looking half dead with a cup of coffee in a loose grip, arms stretched out in front of him and
forehead resting on the surface of the table. He'd thought Namjoon was asleep (he had to be,
right?) so he tiptoed across the kitchen to dig through the fridge for something quick and easy so he
could go back to bed—

"I'm not asleep," Namjoon had said, voice muffled as he mumbled into the wood of the table.

Jeongguk jerked upward, turning to stare at Namjoon's slumped, motionless shoulders. "Oh," he
said, voice low and scratchy with sleep. "Okay." God, that was a stupid response. "I'm getting
something to eat, do you want—?"

"Nah." Namjoon sat up, but he was turned in the opposite direction so Jeongguk couldn't see his
face. "Can't eat. Think I'm coming down with something. Thanks, though."

Jesus. This was so damn awkward. Jeongguk hadn't been there for the fight, hadn't been there in
the basement when Hoseok had passed on whatever cryptic information he had to give, but Jimin
had filled in both Taehyung and Jeongguk that evening when they were getting ready for bed,
hissing the gossip via whispers in the dark. He knew that the house had almost unanimously
decided that Jin and Namjoon were together (together together) for months before finding out that
they weren't. He knew that Namjoon and Jin seemed to have a kind of easy, silent mode of
communication that reminded Jeongguk of nothing so much as his own parents.

He knew that Jin had been invited to a post-doctoral program with the FDA in Washington DC and
that Namjoon had responded to the news with something that had looked to Jimin as something
closer to panic than any of them (except maybe Hoseok) had expected, and now Namjoon had been
all but absent - at least until three in the morning, coffee in his hands at the kitchen table and
insisting that he wasn't hungry.

"Okay," Jeongguk said, trying to keep the note of skepticism out of his voice as he dug a banana
milk out of the fridge. "I hope you, um… aren't. Coming down with something, I mean."

"Yeah, well." Namjoon slid down a little in his chair, head tipping forward slightly and hands
tightening on his coffee cup. "Not a lot I can do about it, right? We're all just adrift on the currents
of fate. Sometimes it feels like our lives are dictated by the choices of other people. Workings we
can't control."

Ah. Here was the Philosophical Bullshit he'd been warned about. "I guess." Jeongguk peeled the
top off of the banana milk back and stared into the bottle for a second before knocking it back like
he was drinking to get drunk. "But I mean… don't we all kind of have the ability to steer ourselves
a little? Like… getting into the frat, right?" He was too tired for this, but Namjoon seemed so
strangely small and lost and confused. Like a stray kitten in the rain. "I mean… ultimately whether
I got accepted or not was out of my hands, but I'm the one who asked to get in. I'm the one who
earned the grades that made me eligible. Maybe in a way it was dictated by the choices I couldn't
control, but I wasn't entirely powerless." He hesitated. "Not that that has anything to do with, um,
getting sick."

"Yeah," Namjoon said after a second, not looking up. "You're a good kid, you know that?"

"Aren't you barely older than me?"

"Don't be a brat. I'm three years older than you."

"Yeah, well." Jeongguk shook the last couple of drops out of the bottle and tossed the corpse of it
into the recycling bin. "I'm gonna go back to bed. If you're coming down with something you
probably should too, hyung."

Namjoon shrugged. "You can't tell me what to do. I'm the president here. Who can tell me what to
do?"

"Jin-hyung's not here," Jeongguk said, pausing in the door out into the corridor. "He's asleep. So
somebody's gotta."

"Yeah," Namjoon said, but Jeongguk only barely heard his voice as he climbed the stairs. "Jin's not
here."

It was another week and a half before anyone saw Namjoon again - he seemed to go to class, as far
as anyone could tell; his shoes and jacket and messenger bag would be gone in the morning when
they got up, but no one ever saw him leave or come back - and in the meantime Jin got quieter and
quieter and quieter until it seemed like the house was almost haunted.
Laundry got done. Meals were cooked. Homework got done. But nobody knew what to do, and
after a while most of them just started spending most of their time in their rooms, the common
areas left empty to collect dust and ghosts.

Once in the afternoon Jeongguk wandered through the house and down the hallway to drop some
laundry downstairs and saw Jin curled up on the couch in the living room with his attention buried
in a textbook. A month ago it wouldn't have been notable, but just then he couldn't keep from
stopping and looking, lungs constricting.

At some undefinable point over his freshman year this funny house and its funny inhabitants had
become home, had become family, and now something was off-kilter in a way none of them knew
how to fix. It itched in his bones, poked in the back of his head like a slowly growing bramble, and
he couldn't keep from stopping and looking. From speaking.

"Hey hyung," Jeongguk said, and his voice echoed strangely in the almost-empty room in a way he
couldn't remember it having heard ever before - undampened by the general buzz of the house in
full erratic swing. "Getting some studying in?"

Jin glanced up, and - and he actually looked fine. His face was a little puffy like he'd eaten
something salty or maybe taken a nap, but his eyes were clear and he looked okay. "Checking my
dissertation," he said, a funny smile playing over his face as he sat back in the couch, letting the
textbook lay to rest on his knees. "It's fine - my advisor says it's ready to go any time, really - but I
guess… you want to make sure you don't miss anything, you know?"

"Yeah." Jeongguk reached up and tugged at a lock of hair behind his ear, worrying at his bottom
lip with his teeth. "Are you - are you gonna go to the US?"

It was almost like magic, how Jin's face changed. It had been open and clear but then as the
question passed Jeongguk's lips he seemed to shut down like a storm shutter, eyes going a little
dark. "That's…" He glanced down at his textbook again, and Jeongguk could tell that the
conversation was over. "That's a really good question," Jin said, and then didn't speak further.

The house was haunted, but not by something that had once been alive. It was the ghost of
something that had never happened at all, the spirit of something so close to formation that it had
almost made it through the barrier between possibility and reality, but regardless. Regardless. The
house was haunted.

"Somebody's gotta do something," Yoongi said one afternoon, with all of them hanging out in near
silence in the room Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk shared. He was lying back on Jimin's bed on
the bottom bunk with Jimin settled back between his legs, Yoongi's fingers carding through his
hair. "It's been almost a month. This is bullshit."

"It's their business," Hoseok said.

"That especially," Yoongi shot back, "is bullshit. This is affecting all of us."

Hoseok just shrugged. "Lemme know if you come up with something we can do, then."

"Call an exorcist," Jeongguk piped up, meaning it as a joke - but nobody laughed.

JIN
Early May
The house seemed to be haunted, and it was beginning to get under Jin's skin.

That wasn't strictly accurate - it wasn't something that was just starting. It had been happening for a
while, the odd niggling feeling of something slightly off creeping in through cracks in the window
panes, settling in slow and gradual and heavy like a cat. He felt as though he always had something
on the tip of his tongue, words caught in his back teeth, confessions tangled up like wires in his
larynx, and it had been this way for a while.

He couldn't remember when it had started. There was no defined point, no aha moment - although
maybe that was because he'd been awkward since the day he was born, and really all he'd done
during his quarter-century of life was slide bumpily from one lagoon of awkwardness to the next.
This one was new, though. The water in this lagoon felt cold and sharp and lonely and confusing.
There were dark shapes in these waters and when the light flickered over them they looked like his
deepest and darkest fears. Loneliness and not being needed and not being wanted and not being
good enough, all slipping silently through the back of his head - waiting for him to make the wrong
move so they'd have the opportunity to drag him down.

But Namjoon… Namjoon was the ghost, it seemed like. It seemed like that a lot, really. In the
morning there would be dirty dishes in the kitchen sink where there had been none the night
before. In the middle of the night Jin would hear the shower turn on and lie in the dark staring at
the wall wondering what he should do. The house was haunted by the most polite poltergeist Jin
could possibly imagine - dropping things on the stairs and muttering apologies under its breath;
restocking the fridge at odd hours when they got low on banana milk; moving things overnight and
then no one Jin got his hands on would confess to it.

It had been almost a month since they'd come home from spring break and Jin had opened the
yellow envelope. It had been almost a month since they'd come home from spring break and the
word accepted had knocked the breath out of him. It had been almost a month since they'd come
home from spring break and Namjoon had been so strange and confused and upset that his hands
were shaking, his hands were shaking, he tried to sit down at the table and the chair fell apart in his
unsteady grip and he fled, breathless and bloodless, up the stairs to his room.

It had been almost a month since they'd come home from spring break, and Namjoon was a ghost.
Jin had caught a few glimpses of him - through the window, mostly, like he'd heard Jin's footsteps
on the stairs and scrambled to leave the house to avoid him - but he may as well have been gone
altogether for all Jin interacted with him. (Sometimes Jin felt like he interacted with his dead
grandmother moreso than he did with his own housemate.)

It had been almost a month and Jin was lying on his bed in bed staring at the ceiling in the middle
of the night.

He wasn't proud of it, he would deny it if challenged, but he'd started tracking Namjoon's
movements. Started paying attention to when the chair in front of Namjoon's desk creaked as he sat
down at his computer. Started paying attention to when Namjoon brushed his teeth. Shaved his
face. Took a shower. Dried his hair. Right now Jin was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling in
the dark, and it was just a little past midnight on a Friday. (Well, Saturday now, he supposed.)
Namjoon usually showered around now, perhaps assuming that Jin had already fallen asleep and
wouldn't be conscious enough to notice it, but lately Jin couldn't sleep until he'd gotten some kind
of sign that Namjoon still drew breath.

Or showered, anyway. Showering was important. Drawing breath was right up there, but nobody
wanted the undead around if they smelled bad as well.

Jin bit his lip and glanced at the clock. It wasn't a little past midnight anymore, it was almost one
in the morning and there was still no sign of Namjoon preparing to get into the shower. No telltale
click of a latch, no creaking of floorboards, no shuffling of bare feet on tile. It was almost one in
the morning and Jin was officially starting to get worried.

He shouldn't get up, right? He shouldn't. Just because Namjoon had been showering at the same
time every night for the last three and a half weeks and now he wasn't… that didn't necessarily
mean anything. Maybe he'd fallen asleep. Maybe he'd gotten distracted working on a composition -
lord knew that had certainly happened enough over the past few years. Maybe he wasn't even
home, or he was downstairs, or he'd finally decided to go find someone and talk to them about
whatever it was that had him so—

The noise was almost so quiet as to make Jin wonder if he imagined it, but he was sitting up and
swinging his legs over the side of the mattress before he had a chance to wonder whether it was a
real sound or not. The floorboards were cold under his feet, but not freezing - just enough to wake
him up a little - and he glared at his bedroom door as if daring the noise to come again.

It did, just very slightly louder this time; a quiet little knocking, three taps in a row that were so
gentle and careful that it sounded almost as though whoever was on the other side of the door was
almost more scared of being heard than not.

God. It was probably Jimin, from the sound of it. Relationship problems maybe. Anxiety over his
homework. Jin sighed and shoved himself to his feet. Wandered across the room. Paused for just a
second at the door, hand on the knob. When he opened the door—

"Can we just pretend," Namjoon said, after several seconds of almost impossibly heavy silence,
"that something else is happening? That we're two other people?"

"What?" Jin said back. (Was he asleep? He had to be asleep. There was no way this was
happening, not after nearly a month of Namjoon avoiding him like his life depended on it.) "Two
other people—?"

"It's just—" Oh god. Oh, god. Namjoon's hands clenched into fists at his sides, relaxed again,
clenched and relaxed and clenched and relaxed, and he sucked in a rough shuddering breath, and
his head was hanging forward and he smelled a little like soju and oh god. Oh god. He was crying
a little, wasn't he? Jin had to exert conscious effort not to stumble backward, not reach out, not to
mess things up even more. "It's just you're my best friend and I don't want to talk to anybody else
but I'm - I'm having a really hard time right now and I don't want to talk to anybody else about it
and nobody else would get it and I don't want to mess anything up but it's really late and I really
want to talk to my best friend—"

"Joonie," Jin said, keeping his voice quiet. Trying to keep the knot in his chest from creeping up
into his throat. Reaching a hand out, curling a loose grip around Namjoon's wrist. "What's going
on?"

"I don't know who else to talk to," Namjoon repeated, choking on the words. God, he was… he
didn't actually seem that drunk, really, but he seemed so messed up somehow. He seemed so
messed up, confused and scared and, all right, (okay), just a little bit drunk. "You're my best friend
and I don't want to talk to anyone else about this, but the person I care about most is - they're
leaving, and I thought I had more time, and I don't know what to do and I don't want to talk to
anybody else about it but I can't talk to you about it and I can't - I don't—"

"Do you just need someone to talk to?" Jin tightened his grip just slightly. "Yeah, we… we can
pretend to be two other people. I can just listen, it's okay—"
Namjoon sucked in a shuddering breath and ran a hand back over his hair. "I don't - I can't figure
out how to say it. How to say any of it. I haven't been sleeping well with, y'know, my fuckin'
dissertation or whatever, and then there's this whole - this whole stupid thing." He turned his wrist
in Jin's hand, the movement a curl of humiliation and regret rather than any kind of attempt to
escape. "It's - it's okay. I'm okay. This is okay. I'm sorry, it's really late, this is really stupid anyway
and it's not like there's really anything wrong. I'm just being stupid. It's stupid."

"Do you want to come in?"

Quiet for a second, before Namjoon jerked his head once and bit his lip. "I don't have anything to
talk about," he said, still stepping forward awkwardly as Jin pulled the door open a little farther. "I
don't know."

"We could just watch a movie." Jin dropped Namjoon's wrist and watched him as he stepped over
the threshold. He felt like a lifetime skeptic who'd come home to find a cryptid folding his laundry
as a favor. "Maybe it… maybe it'll help you sleep." He shrugged and rubbed a hand awkwardly
over the back of his neck, kicking the door closed with one heel. "I have a lot of different movies
and I can stream like, god, pretty much anything—"

"Do you wanna watch Ponyo?" Namjoon's voice was quiet, dampened by the way he was hanging
his head to glare at the floor. "It's… it's been a while. Since we watched a Ghibli movie. You
know. Together."

"I thought you didn't like Ponyo." Shut up, Jin. Namjoon the ghost had appeared in his bedroom
and here he was arguing. "Ignore me. Hold on—" He clambered up onto his bed, kicking the quilt
down to the foot board, leaning against the pillows stacked up at the top and adjusting his laptop
on his knees before glancing up into Namjoon's face. "My laptop speakers aren't the best, but—"

"I know," Namjoon said. (Of course Namjoon knew - he complained about it every single time Jin
watched so much as a short youtube video without plugging in headphones first.) He swallowed as
he sat down on the edge of the mattress, gripping his knees as though he needed to keep his balance
somehow, before finally scooting back against the headboard next to Jin. "It's okay. I'm just… I'm
really tired. But I know I'm not gonna sleep."

Jin loaded up Ponyo. Maximized the window. Glanced at Namjoon out of the corner of his eye.

The lights were off except for the glow of his laptop and his bedside lamp and Namjoon's face was
lit up strange in gold and blue. He was focused on the laptop screen (the animation swirling, the
music starting) but his eyes shone and his cheeks seemed flushed and his bottom lip was pink and
swollen and practically torn up from worrying at it. He was sitting nearly half a meter away,
practically on the very edge of the bed. His hands were twisted in his lap and he was sitting against
the pillows like he was comfortable but his jaw was set and his shoulders were tense and Jin could
see the thump of blood in his jugular.

"You might not be able to sleep," Jin mumbled, trying to make his voice sound exhausted as
possible as he slumped over to swing an arm over Namjoon's shoulders, simultaneously leaning
over and pulling Namjoon in at the same time, "but that doesn't mean I'm not going to sleep. Make
yourself comfortable." He paused, considering that for a second. "I mean for me. For my sake. Be a
good pillow."

"I'm not—" But then Jin sighed and settled against Namjoon's side, pulling the laptop over so it
was half on Jin's leg and half on Namjoon's, and Namjoon stuttered into silence. "Okay. Yeah. A
good pillow. I can do that."
The movie played. The sound was tinny in the speakers, but for the first time Namjoon didn't
complain about it. Namjoon seemed to stay still and nervous and awkward until Jin felt Namjoon's
head turn, his neck bend, his face curve in against his throat—

When Jin glanced down Namjoon was snoring slightly into the skin of Jin's neck. Ponyo had
barely gotten stuck in that bottle and Namjoon had practically passed out, eyes closed, cheek and
lips smashed awkwardly against Jin's jawline. His breath was slow and deep and even and he
seemed so spent. So exhausted. So entirely used up somehow.

Jin let the movie play. Like Namjoon had said, it had been a while since he'd seen a Ghibli movie
and this one was one of his favorites (there was something about it that twisted around his lungs
and blew the breath out of him) and Namjoon never wanted to watch it. (I don't like that the dad is
gone all the time, he'd said, shrugging awkwardly before reaching forward to pull out a different
DVD case.)

When it was over Jin tried as hard as he could to extricate himself from Namjoon - a daunting
prospect: Namjoon was a loop of tangled string all by himself while asleep even without any other
limbs to complicate things further - move his laptop to the floor, pull the quilt back up—

But when he straightened Namjoon was sitting up. Slumping forward, face in one hand, eyes
blinking and unfocused.

"Hey," Jin said, keeping his voice quiet. "It's almost three. I was just going to go to sleep. If - if
you're too tired, you can just—"

"I should go sleep in my own bed," Namjoon slurred, shaking his head blearily. He swung his legs
over the side of the mattress and didn't look up to meet Jin's eye. "Thanks. For, you know… for
stuff. The movie. Letting me sleep."

"Yeah. Any time."

Namjoon stood up. Shuffled across the floorboards to the door into their shared bathroom. Paused
for a second, hand on the doorknob, before turning a little - not a lot, just a little, just enough so that
Jin could tell that Namjoon was addressing him and not the wall - before opening his mouth.
"Listen, Jin - about America—"

"You have to let me make my own decision," Jin said quietly, clenching his fists in his lap. (Part of
him wished Namjoon would ask him to stay. Another part of him hoped Namjoon would respect
his need to make this choice on his own.) "It's a big decision. I know it's big. Please… please just
trust me to make the right choice for me."

Quiet for a second. Namjoon turned back toward the door. "Yeah," he said, voice rough. "I trust
you, Jin. I just—" He trailed off, and his grip tightened slightly on the door knob. "I'm gonna miss
you. When you leave. That's all."

Then he was gone (latch clicking behind him) and it was almost like he'd never been there at all -
except for the warm spot in Jin's bed. The cramp in his shoulder that he'd ignored for the sake of
letting Namjoon sleep. The dent in the pillows.

That night Jin didn't sleep much, but what sleep he found was in the hollow Namjoon's body had
left, surrounded by the smell of Namjoon's coconut shampoo and the soap he used and something
mysterious and almost woodsy that Jin couldn't put his finger on. He didn't need to - it was
Namjoon, and when he rolled over into that space it was so comforting and familiar that he was
asleep in seconds.
The house was still haunted, but the ghost had changed. Now the ghost was just the scent of
coconut shampoo, honey oatmeal soap. Something that was almost reminiscent of cedar, dragging
Jin down into dreamless sleep.

JIN
May 7

Jin hadn't slept enough. He hadn't gotten to sleep until nearly three in the morning and now he had
the Ponyo theme song stuck in his head and he was still only halfway through his final round of
dissertation edits (god, sometimes he wondered what on earth Past Jin had been thinking when he
read over chapters he'd written the year before) and when the knock came on the front door he
almost didn't register it for a second. But then it came again, louder and more insistent, and he
looked up.

Over the last month he and Namjoon had divided the house without ever speaking about it -
Namjoon had the top floor to move around as he pleased, to work in silence in his bedroom and not
be distracted or annoyed or bothered by the telltale creaks of Jin in his own bedroom across the hall
- and so Jin had taken to camping out on one of the couches in the living room. The front windows
were cracked open slightly to let the gradually warming spring air filter in. The light was gentle,
green and pink as it filtered through the new leaves and flowers budding and curling open in the
world outside. He was wearing that ridiculous Yoshi sweater because… because he'd been finding
himself seeking out small connections with the way his life had been a month ago.

A month ago things had been liminal and confusing, but they'd been steady. They'd been
predictable. Namjoon was Namjoon and Jin was Jin and they were the leadership of a professional
College of Music frat and everything was fine. That was the way things were, and everything was
fine.

Now nothing was fine, and Jin was wearing the Yoshi sweater some other version of Namjoon had
given him for Christmas, and he hadn't been able to find it in himself to take a shower and wash off
the coconut oatmeal-honey cedar smell Namjoon had left tangled in his sheets, and someone was
knocking on the door.

The third time the knock came it was even louder, more of a banging than anything, and through
the slightly open front windows he heard the impatient creak of someone's weight shifting on the
old porch slats, a sigh of annoyance, the rattle of the hinges in the door frame - so he came back to
himself. Got up. Moved to the door, shuffling his slippers a little on the floorboards. "I'm coming,"
he called out - and down the hall Taehyung poked his head out of the kitchen curiously, a piece of
dried squid sticking out of his mouth. Jin waved a hand dismissively. "I've got it. Don't worry
about it."

It was Saturday afternoon and of course no one had lectures and even though it was mid-afternoon
the front door was still locked from the night before, and so he had to struggle with the old rusted
deadbolt for a second before it would shift and he could turn the knob and open the door and look
up—

"Hyosang," Jin said, the name coming up out of his lungs like he'd been punched in the gut. "What
- what are you—"

Hyosang, Jin Hyosang, stood on the front porch of the Beta Tau Sigma house with his fists shoved
into his trim black jeans. He was wearing a light jacket and a thin cotton v-neck t-shirt that showed
his clavicles and even now (four years later) the sight of that throat still made Jin's mouth go a little
bit dry. His hair was messy and his face was pale and he looked tired and annoyed in equal
measure, and his eyes went a little bit hard when he glanced up into Jin's face.

"I heard you were leaving," Hyosang said, and his voice was just like it had been four years ago.
Just like it had been back at the Halloween party. Just like it had been when Hyosang had cornered
him at the Tau Delta Valentine's Day party and demanded that he explain himself. "Some of the
guys said you got offered post-doctoral work overseas."

If Jin were a swearing man (and he wasn't) he might have sworn then. If he were Namjoon he
might have told Hyosang to fuck off. If he were Yoongi he might have just slammed the door in
Hyosang's face. But he was himself, he was Kim Seokjin, and Hyosang was on the doorstep and
Jin was nothing if not weak and confused and tired and upset so… so instead of telling Hyosang to
fuck off, instead of slamming the door in his face, he stepped over the threshold and closed the
door behind him.

"Why are you here?" Jin said, his tongue thick in his mouth. (It was the memories that had him
like this. Looking at Hyosang now… it was almost like looking at a stranger, really. But the
memories caught him by the throat and shoved thoughts of the way they used to be into the
forefront of his mind and it hurt to stand here. Less than it had, of course. But the sting was still
there.) "Why are you here, Jin Hyosang."

"Seriously?" Hyosang shot him a skeptical look, that mocking thing that Jin had gotten sometimes
when Hyosang thought he was being stupid. "I'm here because I heard you were leaving, Jinnie—"

"Don't call me that." He bit his lips together. "Please call me Seokjin. We're not… we're not close."

Hyosang set his jaw and went silent for a second. "Seokjin, then." He wet his lips. "Look - I
don't… I don't want you to go."

Something deep in Jin's chest something twisted. Something old and dry and forgotten suddenly
woke up and tangled up in his lungs and when he tried to breathe he could only suck in a quick
gasp before there was no more room. "You what?"

"I don't want you to go," Hyosang repeated, stepping forward. "What can be overseas that you can't
find right here? At home?"

"There's a lot," Jin said, tripping backward a little. The force of Hyosang's annoyance was like a
force field, knocking him back, knocking the breath out of him. "And anyway who are you to tell
me whether or not I should go, it's not like—"

"I miss you," Hyosang interrupted - and his voice was soft suddenly. His eyes flickered down to
the porch slats between them. His feet in sneakers, Jin in slippers still. "I just… I messed up. I
know I messed up. But I miss you, I did miss you. I have missed you, this whole time, and when I
heard you were leaving—" He shrugged, looking a little lost as he scratched one hand over his
head. "Where's this post-doc thing, anyway?"

"America," Jin said, immediately hating himself for budging. (Was he ever going to be able to hold
his own against Hyosang? Four years after everything and here he was still, giving over everything
with just a look and a question.) "But—"

"America?" Hyosang's head whipped up and he fixed Jin with a look of shock and something that
looked almost like fury. "Seriously? America?! Jin—"
"Quiet down," Jin hissed, reaching out to brush a hand against Hyosang's shoulder. "We're outside,
but we're not alone. And yes, America. I can go where I please, Hyosang. I can make my own
decisions. I'm my own person."

"But I miss you," Hyosang hissed, stepping forward and catching Jin's wrist in one hand. His grip
was tight, firm, unyielding - and all Jin could think was Namjoon would never grab me like this. "I
miss you, Jin, doesn't that mean anything? I know that - I know that I messed up, but I've matured a
lot since then and I've been doing a lot of thinking and I know you miss me too and—"

"You're right," Jin said, staring down at Hyosang's hand on his wrist. "You're right, like you
always are - I do miss you. I've missed you since… since even before we broke up officially, when
you started ignoring me and leaving me behind and acting different. I've missed you for a long
time, and it's been over four years and I still miss you."

"We miss each other," Hyosang murmured. "Isn't that enough? Why can't you stay? If you miss
me, why can't you come back? Why can't we try again? We had something good, Jin—"

"I do miss you," Jin interrupted - and then twisted his wrist out of Hyosang's grip, quickly enough
that Hyosang couldn't stop him. The something in his chest that was old and dry and forgotten and
tangled up in his lungs… it wasn't nostalgia. It wasn't wanting anything back. It was anger and
betrayal and the knowledge he'd never been able to face, that he deserved better than the way
Hyosang had treated him - not just four years ago, but before that too. Their whole relationship he'd
deserved better and he hadn't been able to face it. But now Hyosang was trying to slip back into his
life and that anger was suddenly blooming in his chest like a flower. "You're right. I do miss you."

Jin looked up into Hyosang's face - and was struck, suddenly, by how true that was. It was true. He
did miss Hyosang; but what he missed was a version of Hyosang he'd never really had, a version of
Hyosang that had never really existed. "But you can miss something," Jin said, his voice quiet,
"and still not want it back."

It was the wrong thing to say (it was the right thing to say) because Hyosang's mouth went tight
and he lurched forward and his hand came up, curling over the back of Jin's neck, and Jin found
himself being jerked in against him, mouths crashing together in the first kiss he'd felt in over four
years. It had been the wrong thing to say (no, no, he stood by it - stand by it, Kim Seokjin) because
if he hadn't then maybe Hyosang wouldn't be doing this, and even though Hyosang wasn't really
stronger than him physically he still felt himself cowed and scared and incapable of pulling free—

The front door slammed open, the sound of it shocking Hyosang off and back, stumbling over his
feet.

"What the fuck," Namjoon said, looking exhausted and horrible and furious and looming in the
front door, hanging onto the door jamb in a way that Jin recognized by now as a way of grounding
himself when faced with something too confusing to handle. "What the fuck is going on out here?"

But then Hyosang came back to himself - squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes. "Kim
Namjoon," he said, voice lilting. "I remember you. You're the president now? Congratulations."

"What the fuck is going on out here?" Namjoon repeated, voice dark and hoarse. His eyes flickered
up to play over Jin's face - and there was a funny quirk at the inner corners of his eyes, something
almost like recognition - before he focused on Hyosang again. "Are you going to answer me?"

"I'm here to ask Jin if he'll come back," Hyosang said. "We were together for a really long time and
I messed up, I know I messed up, but I didn't realize just how much until I heard he was leaving the
country. So I'm… I'm here to convince him to stay." He straightened up even more, looking up into
Namjoon's face like a high school kid facing down the father of his prom date. "I miss him, and I
want to make up for everything that happened, and I don't want him to leave."

"Rule four," Namjoon said after a second, eyes not leaving Hyosang's face.

"What?" Hyosang said.

"What?" Jin said.

"Oh shit," came Yoongi's voice quietly from somewhere behind Namjoon's shoulder.

"Rule four," Namjoon repeated, stepping down onto the porch. His hand was still clenched tight
onto the door jamb to steady himself. He'd put on shoes, a sweatshirt. "In the Beta Tau Sigma
constitution."

Jin flinched in sudden realization. "Joonie—"

"Rule four." Namjoon reached out and shoved Hyosang back. "Don't. Fuck up. With Kim Seokjin."

"Joonie, seriously, it's not—"

"It was four years ago," Hyosang sputtered out, fighting for balance. "I was a dumb kid, I fucked
up, I know I fucked up—"

"Don't fuck up with Kim Seokjin," Namjoon repeated. "I don't give a flying shit if it was yesterday,
last week, four years ago, the - the motherfucking mesozoic era—" He took a second to catch his
breath. "Don't fuck up with him. And for chrissakes—"

"What?" Hyosang barked, face going dark. "For chrissakes what?"

"Let him make his own decisions," Namjoon said. The way he said it sounded tired. "He doesn't
belong to anybody. He belongs to himself. Let him make his own goddamn decisions."

And then he was stumbling forward, tripping down the front steps of the porch onto the concrete
walk. Jin lurched forward. "Joonie, where—"

"Out," Namjoon called over his shoulder. "I'll be back later. Just - just make your own decisions,
Jin. It's your life."

Somewhere behind him in the entryway there was a panicked scuffling, Jimin's voice hissing babe,
seriously, somebody's gotta see if he's okay, and then Yoongi tumbled out over the threshold and
onto the porch between Hyosang and Jin, looking pink-faced and awkward. "Um," he said, gruff
voice wavering a little. "So uh… yeah. Don't fuck up with Jin." He glanced up at Jin and blanched
a little. "I'm gonna…" Then he trailed off and bolted, following in the direction Namjoon had gone.

There was a moment of quiet.

"Can I at least come in?" Hyosang said. "Just for a minute? To talk?"

Jin took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "Just for a minute?" he asked.

Hyosang smiled a little, stepping forward. "Just for a minute."

 The One Where Beta Tau Sigma Changes Forever
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

JIN
May 8

Like so many times in his life, Jin woke up with the sun.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept enough. (No, he could - it had been the last night
they’d spent in Yeosu, before they’d driven back and Namjoon had fetched the mail that had built
up and Jin had opened that yellow envelope. That had been weeks ago.) Even now he was still
exhausted, exhausted and bleary and confused, and when the sun arced in through his window and
over his eyes he groaned and rolled over and buried his face in the pillow and threw one arm over
the shoulders of the person on the mattress next to him.

It had been a weird week and a weird month and a weird... a weird few years, really, and all of that
weirdness had built up over the days and hours and minutes until it had toppled over precariously
like a house of cards caught in a breath of wind and now the fallout was something he couldn’t
quite work out how to deal with. He’d thought that things had stayed the same these last four years
- but they hadn’t, had they?

Or maybe it was just that he hadn’t recognized everything for what it was. Maybe he’d seen every
sign and assumed it meant something else, maybe he’d said every word and meant it innocuously
even as his subconscious had been screaming impotently from the other side of a sheet of
metaphorical sound-proof glass. Maybe it had always been this strange, and he just hadn’t
recognized it for what it was.

Wait. Hold on. Hold on just a second. What?

Jin yanked his arm back and shoved himself upward in half of an alarmed pushup. God, he - he
wasn’t wearing a shirt, where on earth was his shirt? Perhaps more importantly, where were his
pants? None of this was good. Every part of this was bad.

The gears in his head spun, seeking traction fruitlessly as he tried to remember how on earth he’d
managed to wake up like this - in his own room, in his own bed, between his own sheets... cuddled
up close against the cool skin of some other person, head stuck under a pillow as though to hide
from the sunrise.

Jin lifted the blanket gingerly. Okay, well. Small mercies. Everyone was still wearing their
underwear at least.

Outside the door there were footsteps. Hissing whispering. Then a knock - tentative and careful on
the wood of his door. “It’s National Parents’ Day,” sang Jimin’s high-pitched voice through the
door. “Wake up and get your celebratory breakfast!”

Jin sucked in a breath. Stared at the door. Glanced down at the other body in his bed - and the
events of the day before ran him over like a train.

NAMJOON
 May 7

“God damn it,” came the voice behind him, breathless and strained. “God damn it Joon-ah, my
legs are way too fuckin’ short for your dumbass bullshit—”

“I’m going out,” Namjoon yelled over his shoulder, hunching over and lengthening his strides as
he shoved his fists into the pocket of his hoodie. “Don’t - don’t fuckin’ follow me hyung, I’m
serious, I’m not going anywhere interesting so just leave me alone.”

“You have no idea,” Yoongi choked out, gasping for breath as he grabbed Namjoon by his elbow
to spin him around, “how much I would love to leave you alone. Unfortunately I’m dating some
kinda angel among men and he got it into his head that somebody needed to come out after you
and keep you from imploding dramatically in on yourself like the most awkward black hole in the
goddamn universe.”

“I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi glared at him, breath rough in his throat and his cheeks sweetly pinked by the crisp spring
air and hair mussed in the breeze but still managing to look like one of the scariest things Namjoon
had ever personally witnessed in his entire life. “You’re not gonna what,” Yoongi challenged,
raising a hand like he was going to smack Namjoon across the arm. “Not gonna run off like a
fuckin’ idiot? Not gonna make a damn scene? Not gonna explain your actions like a goddamn
adult?”

Namjoon pulled a face, uncomfortably aware of just how petulant it was. “You’re one to talk.”

“I got over that,” Yoongi said pointedly, jabbing Namjoon in the chest with one forefinger. “And
now I’m hitting that, so I gotta say I recommend it whole-heartedly.” He glowered up at him.
“What the hell was that?”

Yoongi had chased him for nearly two blocks, cutting across a yard to catch him up when he’d
turned down a perpendicular street, and now they were standing on a corner smack dab in the
middle of greek row - arguing about god, god, who even know what they were arguing about
anymore? It seemed like Beta Tau Sigma had just been an argument in the shape of a house for the
last month, and now it had followed him out the door and into the spring air and Namjoon could
barely handle it inside the comfortable confines of his own bedroom, let alone out in the open like
this.

(He hadn’t been able to handle it, murmured a traitorous voice in the back of his head. Even with
the argument taking over his life he still hadn’t been able to handle it and still he’d sought out the
comfort of Jin’s proximity and still he couldn’t figure out how to deal with a goddamn thing.)

“I don’t...” Namjoon bit his lips together. Screwed his eyes shut. Scrubbed both hands over his
face. “I just needed to get out of there. Jin Hyosang was the vice-president of Tau Delta when
everything went down four years ago, and ever since then I’ve never—”

“You didn’t say a thing,” Yoongi interrupted, “about any damn house politics. That was all about
Jin-hyung. Every single piece of that was about him. Now are you gonna answer me or what?
What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Namjoon grimaced, knowing somewhere in his gut that that wasn’t strictly true -
but he couldn’t think of what was true, then. “I don’t... I don’t fuckin’ know, hyung. Jin’s leaving
and he’s been by my side for four goddamn years and I-I thought we - I - we had more time,
y’know? Fuck, it’s like... I just feel like the rug’s been pulled out from under me or something, I
don’t know. I don’t know if I can do this.” He glared down at the sidewalk, concrete cracked with
the slow force of tree roots and time. “I’ve always had Jin. Always. I just don’t know if I can do
this.”

"Wait." Yoongi ran a hand through his hair and cracked a grin, a little bit confused but mostly just
strangely delighted. "No. Hold on. Namjoon, do you… do you like Jin?"

"Yeah," Namjoon said. Then shook his head fast, hair flying. "No! No. Fuck. I don't know."

Yoongi stared at him. "Aw, bro," he said slowly. "You are so fucked."

Namjoon groaned long and low and tortured, dropping down into a squat and folding his arms over
his head as though he were caught in a sudden earthquake. "I am so fucked, hyung. I am so fucking
fucked."

Yoongi kicked the ground a couple of times, awkward and uncertain for what might have been the
first time in his life. “I mean... I gotta be straight up with you here, we all figured you two were
doin’ it for like... I dunno, years—”

“I know,” Namjoon growled down toward the pavement.

“Like… you two hang out together all the time, and—"

"We're the leadership," Namjoon insisted, voice muffled in his knees. "We have to spend time with
each other, it's how it works. It's the only way anything works."

"Bro. Come on. He knows where your wallet is even when you don't."

"Everyone knows where my wallet is even when I don't. I never know where my goddamn wallet
is."

"Jin has it," Yoongi said, almost automatically, then hesitated. For once he struck Namjoon as
being out of his depth, and not the way he got before he and Jimin had gotten together. This was
new and strange and deeply unsettling. "Joon-ah, seriously - you're basically his wife."

Namjoon picked his head up and glared at Yoongi. "Excuse me?"

"Or he's yours, I don't know," Yoongi said, rolling his eyes. "Fuck, do you not see the way he looks
at you? It's disgusting. And don't even get me started on the way you look at him."

“We just look at each other, there’s nothing special about...” Ah. Fuck. Damn. There kind of was
something about the way Jin looked at him sometimes - the slightly parted lips, the almost-smile,
the curved eyes like he was simultaneously surprised and delighted and proud and flustered - that
made his mouth go dry. He’d always figured it was nerves. He’d always figured it was something
about Jin having more life experience, about Jin knowing more about something than he did.
“Shit.”

Yoongi sighed. Scratched the bridge of his nose. “So you know what you gotta do, right?”

Namjoon groaned and shoved himself to his feet, stuffing his fists into the pockets of his jeans.
“Bottle it up forever and let Jin make his own decisions,” he said. “That’s kind of been my plan to
be totally honest. I mean - I’ve never... I’ve never been with a guy before,” he stuttered out,
avoiding Yoongi’s eye, “and maybe it’s just a dumb crush, right? Or what if I’m just getting
territorial or whatever because he’s leaving, I can’t just be all like ‘hey Jin I totally got the hots for
you don’t go to America so we can make out’ or whatever, that’s manipulative and shitty and I
don’t even know if he’d like me back—”

“Jesus fuck,” Yoongi cut in, groaning theatrically. “You seriously expect me to believe this
disgusting googly-eyed crush started a month ago? Territorial? Joon-ah - he fell in the water and
you dove in after him before any of us could blink. You texted all of us for ideas on how to make
his fuckin’ Christmas more magical. On Halloween you just about kicked Jin Hyosang’s ass in just
cause Jin got a little wobbly about running into him.”

“What are you—”

“Dude.” Yoongi reached up and held on to each of Namjoon’s shoulders, squaring them up and
glaring up into his face. “Take it from someone who’s embarrassingly well-versed in this shit:
you’ve been in love with Jin for like... years. Seriously.”

“I can’t say anything,” Namjoon insisted weakly. “He’s leaving, it’d just be weird, and anyway—”

Yoongi shook him a little, a sharp jerk back and forth. “Holy shit man, look—” He rolled his eyes
skyward, searching for words. “Kay so like... suppose you were leaving, right? And Jin had a huge
crush on you that you didn’t know about. Would you want him to tell you before you left? Like
yeah, okay, it’d be weird and make shit more complicated but - but wouldn’t you wanna be in
possession of all the facts?”

“I—” Namjoon took a step backward, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Jin and I aren’t the same
person anyway, just because—”

“Think about it,” Yoongi interrupted, sighing and combing his fingers irritably through his bangs.
“And don’t be so fuckin’ dumb, all right? I was dumb for two years and it was shit and
everybody’s way better off now.” He shrugged. “I’m gonna head back. Before all this went down I
was kinda in the middle of something.”

“Schoolwork,” Namjoon said. “I get it.”

“Nah.” Yoongi flashed him a toothy grin, eyes curving in a distressingly cat-like way. “Try
blowjob.”

“Uh. So wait, which of you—” Namjoon cut himself off, waving a hand desperately. “No. No.
Ignore that. I don’t wanna know.”

“Tell you what,” Yoongi called back over his shoulder as he turned on one heel and started heading
back to the house. “You find out what it’s like for your own damn self and then maybe we can talk
about it.”

Namjoon took a deep breath and covered his face with both hands. Liking Jin was one thing, but
god, god - sucking a dick? Could he do that? Was that a thing he could do? Ignoring for a second
the massive question mark hanging over the entire goddamn situation (would Jin even return the
crush?) was Namjoon really actually prepared to go through with what that kind of thing would
entail? He’d have to kiss a dude. (Jin, but still - a dude.) He’d probably need to touch somebody
else’s dick, which was awkward. (Jin’s dick, but still - somebody else’s dick.) He’d have to... he’d
have to learn about a lot of stuff he’d never really thought about before and god, was he up for
that?

The sun came out from behind a cloud. The breeze whispered in his hair. Somewhere somebody
was yelling something unintelligible.

Namjoon still wasn’t sure. (He wasn’t sure, not really.) But his stomach twisted and his hands
curled into fists and that massive question mark hung over him, more important and more pressing
and infinitely more terrifying than the idea of what he might have to do if Jin did like him back. It
was scarier to think all of this was one-sided. It was scarier to think of Jin leaving without
knowing. It was scarier to think of Jin in America by himself, trying to navigate Washington DC
without Namjoon there to help him ask for directions and read signs and take obnoxious photos
next to all the monuments.

The question mark hung over him, and the weight was almost too much to bear.

When he got back to the house it was almost dark. Even after Yoongi had gone back to finish up,
um, whatever it was he’d been doing, Namjoon hadn’t been able to bring himself to follow.

What if Hyosang was still there? Back in February Namjoon had figured out that it had been
Hyosang this whole time, the really long relationship Jin had mentioned off-hand on Christmas, but
then when the guy in the shower had instead been Jin’s cousin that whole theory had gone down
the drain. He hadn’t given it another thought, he’d assumed that every conclusion he’d come to in
that feverish, horrible weekend must have been wrong... but not everything, apparently.

We were together for a really long time, Hyosang had said, back on the porch in the light of late
afternoon. When Namjoon had opened the door Hyosang and Jin had been so close, they’d been so
close, they’d - they’d been kissing (which stung) and despite Namjoon thinking he’d seen a tension
in Jin’s shoulders like he hadn’t wanted it to begin with he couldn’t tell how much of that was
wishful thinking and how much was the truth.

Jin was... okay, maybe not gay, but he’d dated a guy before. He’d been in love with a guy, they’d
dated for six years and their breakup had hurt so much he hadn’t sought out anything else for four
years following. (Namjoon’s fists clenched of their own accord. Rule Four: don’t fuck up with Kim
Seokjin. They’d made that rule after a particularly harrowing experience with a new pledge who
refused to understand that Jin was as much a part of the frat as the framing of the house, the plaster
on the walls, the beams and rafters and kitchen, holding everything together.)

The question mark still burned in his head, but Yoongi’s words burned brighter. Wouldn’t you
wanna be in possession of all the facts?

He would, but he wasn’t Jin. Would Jin want to know? Would he want Jin to leave without
knowing? (How selfish could he let himself be, really? Here, now, with Jin on the line?)

The door opened under his hand and the house was unnaturally quiet. A quick glance through the
entryway told him most of the inhabitants of the house had left - Yoongi’s red canvas high tops
were missing, Jeongguk’s work boots that he insisted on wearing everywhere, Taehyung’s sandals
- and the lights were off all the way back into the kitchen. He hung up his sweatshirt. Pulled his
shoes off.

Resolved not to say anything.

When he climbed the stairs up to the top floor he felt almost as though he were walking to his own
execution. He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The decision was Jin’s and Jin’s alone and it had
been hard enough for Namjoon to realize that he couldn’t go back on it now. It would be so
manipulative - Hyosang had stood there on the porch and explained that he wanted Jin back,
missed him, didn’t want him to leave... and Namjoon couldn’t help but think that if he told Jin now
he wouldn’t be any better.
There was a soft clicking noise at almost the exact same time Namjoon touched the knob to his
bedroom door. When he stopped, turned, looked up - Jin was right there in front of him, standing at
the threshold of his own bedroom, doorknob in his hand and a funny look on his face. He was
wearing, god, he was wearing loose pajama bottoms and thick black socks and that same damn red
shirt that used to be Namjoon’s, the one with the stretched out collar that showed Jin’s collarbones.
(Jin’s collarbones, the ones that would be going to America with him.) Jin opened his mouth—

"I need to talk to you about something," Jin said, at the exact same time Namjoon broke down and
said, "Do you have a minute?"

"Okay," Namjoon said stupidly, at the same time Jin said, "Yeah."

Then they stared at each other for a few seconds. Namjoon opened his mouth experimentally,
leaning forward just very slightly to see if Jin was going to say something. Jin just pressed his lips
together and shook his head, gesturing at him to speak first. "I need to talk to you about
something," Namjoon said, echoing Jin’s words back at him. He'd been so sure five seconds ago,
he'd been so damn sure, and now with Jin standing in front of him across the hallway his
decisiveness had slipped entirely out of his grip.

"Yeah," Jin said awkwardly. "I... yeah. I need to talk to you about something too."

Shit. Shit. Jin had made up his mind, and... maybe it was better this way. He wouldn't be
manipulating, he’d just be... he’d just be making sure Jin was in possession of all the facts. Right?
"Can I go first?"

Jin shrugged after a second of hesitation. "Yeah, you... sure."

"Listen," Namjoon said, feeling his heart rate pick up, feeling his pulse quicken and jump under his
skin. "Listen, I know that this post-doc offer in DC is really… it's a really good opportunity for
you. I get that. I'm excited for you, man. Seriously."

"Thanks," Jin said quietly. His hand twisted on the doorknob like he couldn't decide whether he
wanted to close the door or not, whether he wanted to stay out in the hallway with the force of
Namjoon's full-blown awkwardness hitting him full in the face. "You know—"

"Wait a second." Namjoon waved a hand desperately. This might kill him. "Sorry, I just - I need to
get this out, and I don't know if I'm going to if I don't… if I don't say it now. You know? I just—"

"Are you okay?"

When Namjoon looked up Jin was… god, it was that one look, the curving curious eyes and the
pursed-lip smile and the way he cocked his chin just slightly to the side when he looked up at him.
It was that one look, the one that had started driving Namjoon absolutely up-the-wall crazy at
some undefinable point over the last year, (maybe even before that), the one that could knock the
words out of him, the one that reminded him that for all of his words and thoughts and metaphors
and philosophy Jin was still older than him. That Jin still knew more. That Jin could look at him
and read his mood off of his face like ingredients on the back of a cereal box.

"Fine," Namjoon lied.

"Okay," Jin replied slowly, doubt dripping from his voice. "You sure?"

"This opportunity is really important," Namjoon said, sidestepping around the question. "It's really
important, and really fantastic, and you deserve it, Jin. You earned it. Everybody in the house
works hard but you really kill it, you know? You're really goddamn superlative. And I know I've
been kind of a shit about this—"

Jin rolled his eyes. "Kind of?"

"—but I want you to know that I really do get it," Namjoon pressed on, glaring at him. "I get it.
This is awesome and you deserve it and—" He stuttered to a stop. "And I think you should take it.
Don’t listen to Hyosang. Don’t listen to anybody. Hell, don’t.. don’t even listen to me, I don’t
know, but this is an amazing next step in your life and I don’t want you to let it go just for some—"
Tread carefully, Kim Namjoon. “—for some guy. I think you should make your own decision but...
but I also think you should take it.”

Jin had opened his mouth, had taken in one short sharp breath like he was about to say something -
but then just froze like that, staring at him for a second. "What?" he said finally.

"I think you should take it," Namjoon repeated, stomach knotting. "I don't know what my deal was,
it's not like the frat was just going to stay the same into eternity. I'm almost done with my
doctorate. Yoongi and Hoseok are both graduating at the end of the year. I'm - we're all afraid of
things changing, but they're going to. And you just have to change with them if you're going to
survive. If you're going to really live. And this is… this is your life, man." He ran a hand through
his hair. "I can't ask you to stay just because - for, for no reason."

There was a moment of... of almost nothing, really, of something almost silent but not quite -
Namjoon’s heartbeat whispered in his ears and he held his breath and the house creaked under their
feet and he could feel the weight of his awkwardness settling in thick over his shoulders.

Jin's eyes narrowed - not suspicion, just confusion - and he gave Namjoon a curious look. "Just
because of what? You're acting really weird, Joonie—" He closed the door behind him and stepped
forward, hand going up to brush over Namjoon's forehead. "—are you sick?"

Yeah. Fuck. Yeah, he was fucking sick, this was driving him absolutely crazy and he couldn't
fucking stop even though this was probably going to kill him, or kill Jin, or maybe kill both of them
at the same goddamn time. "No," Namjoon stuttered, jerking his head back and out of Jin's reach.
"Yeah. No. I don't know. I don't want to burden you with this."

"Right now I'm just confused." Jin laughed, a short cough of self-derision, and rubbed a hand over
the back of his neck. "You're being kind of opaque here."

"I want you to take this offer," Namjoon said. "I mean I don't want you to, but I think you should. I
want you to know that I want what's best for you, and that I know that you're the only person who
can decide what that is, and that I'm going to support whatever decision you make even if it's not
what I would've chosen for you. And I don't want to burden you but I can't…"

"God," Jin sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "Namjoon, just spit it out,
I'm not going to bite you."

"I don't want to burden you," Namjoon said for the third time, hating himself for how goddamn
repetitive all of this was, "and I still think you should take this offer so don't think I'm trying to talk
you out of it, but - but I really like you, Jin."

"I should hope so. We're friends." Jin’s eyes went narrow again. "Aren't we?"

"No, I mean…" Namjoon's teeth clicked closed. "No, I mean I like you. I really like you. I like you
the way I like girls, but not… you're not like a girl," he stammered, "I mean it's kind of the same
kind of liking. I like you," he said again. "A lot. I still want you to take this, but I also really… I
couldn't let you go," he said. "Not without letting you know that I like you. Not without making
sure you were in possession of all the facts."

When he closed his mouth silence settled over them, thick and heavy and muffled like a wool
blanket, and Namjoon wondered briefly if this was what it felt like to face down your inevitable,
grisly death. Jin was just staring up at him, eyebrows inclined upward, lips pursed and just barely
parted, a funny quirk at the inner corners of his eyes that looked a little like fear or confusion or
maybe just a question - ascending up out of him like a puff of smoke from a flame.

"You what?" he said finally, voice strangled.

"I like you," Namjoon said, chest constricting. "Sorry."

Jin stood in the hallway in front of him. Looked down at the floor, at their stocking feet standing
half a meter apart. Clenched and unclenched his fists. Took a deep breath.

Reached back blindly for the knob on his bedroom door, opening it. Slipped back into the dark.
Closed the door.

Fuck. Fuck. He’d known he shouldn’t say anything, he’d decided, he’d thought about it for hours
and he’d been so sure he shouldn’t say anything no matter what Yoongi said and then Jin had been
right there in front of him with his perfect mouth open slightly and a question on his face and his
clavicles peeking out of the stretched-out collar of a shirt that Namjoon had owned once upon a
time... and he’d fucked it up.

Namjoon covered his face with both hands and tried to breathe. He’d fucked everything up. Jin
wasn’t in possession of all the facts. Jin was just being bombarded on all sides by idiot dudes trying
to control his damn life, and god - Namjoon had never wanted to think that he might be that kind of
person to Jin, but he was. He’d made himself that person.

There was a clicking noise in the hallway and Namjoon glanced up, pulling his hands from his
face.

Jin stood in the threshold of his bedroom, hand still on the door knob. He looked drawn and pale
and confused and strangely breathless. His eyes flickered - glancing up into Namjoon’s face for a
second before going back to stare at the floor between them. "Are you being serious? Are you
just… just joking, or something? Kim Namjoon, if you're just messing around—"

"I'm not! I'm not just messing around, Jin, shit—"

“Prove it,” Jin interrupted, voice a little strangled in his throat. He looked up, and - and his face
was...

Something in Namjoon’s chest twisted dangerously. Jin looked so damn curious and confused and
unreadable and... and what? “Prove it?” Namjoon echoed stupidly.

“Prove it,” Jin repeated, clenching his hands into fists. He looked strange - a look on his face that
Namjoon had seen before, but never once pointed in his direction - short of breath and pale and
blank like he was trying not to show his emotions on his face. “You say you like me. So prove it.
Where’s your evidence? You’re a doctoral candidate, Kim Namjoon - defend your thesis.”

He hadn’t thought this far.

He didn’t have any evidence, he just had himself.

He could tell Jin about the absolutely humiliating wet dream he’d had in Yeosu. He could tell Jin
about how comfortable he’d felt with him on Christmas and how much he hadn’t wanted it to be
over. He could tell Jin about how hard it was not to reach out for him sometimes, because it was so
hard. It was so goddamn hard, sometimes it took everything he had not to just—

Namjoon stepped forward and shoved all his circular thinking into the back of his head and tried to
stop thinking too much and reached out like he’d been wanting to do for so goddamn long.
Reached out and cupped Jin’s jaw carefully in his palms - gently, so Jin could pull away easily if
he wanted to - and leaned in.

It wasn’t like what he’d expected, if only because he’d been trying so hard for so long not to think
about it at all, but then it was also exactly what he’d expected. Jin’s mouth was impossibly soft, his
lips smooth and scented lightly with the peppermint of his chapstick, and for a second it was just...
it was just a kiss, cautious and mild and gentle, closed-mouthed and careful - and then Jin opened
his mouth, sighing a little as Namjoon curved down into him, curious and desperate and afraid as
the kiss turned from innocent and chaste to something hotter and wetter and deeper.

“Fuck,” Namjoon breathed against him, hands flexing as he dragged his fingers down Jin’s throat,
over his collarbones, light over his ribs to slide in tight around his waist. “Fuck, Jin—”

Jin groaned and pulled away, eyes closed. “Shit,” he said. “Shit. You weren’t... I wasn’t—”

Oh, fuck. “We don’t have to,” Namjoon stuttered, grip tightening and relaxing involuntarily. “If
you don’t - I mean if you don’t like me back it’s okay, I don’t - I’m sorry—”

But Jin was moving, ducking back and dragging Namjoon with him, scrambling for the knob of his
bedroom door for a second before it opened and pulling Namjoon with him into the dark. He
kicked it shut again with one heel and flipped the lock all without pulling away, turning Namjoon
and guiding him backwards toward the bed. “Shut up,” he said, voice muffled against Namjoon’s
mouth.

“Wait,” Namjoon gasped, heels bumped against the bed, Jin’s hand flat on his chest to shove him
back, push him back (and back and back and back) until he fell back onto the edge of the mattress,
“wait, wait, do you - do you like me? Do you like me back?”

“Do I like you?” Jin rolled his eyes and slipped down to straddle Namjoon’s hips. “Are you - do I
like you? Are you even listening to yourself?”

"I don't know!" Namjoon’s lungs constricted as Jin’s fingers found the hem of his t-shirt, slipping
under and dragging over the soft skin just over the waistband of his jeans. Jin’s hands were so
warm, fingertips like brands, and Namjoon thought of every time Jin’s hand on his arm had blown
the breath out of him. "I mean it's, it's okay either way, it's stupid, I'm just—"

“You are such,” Jin groaned, rocking his hips as he tugged desperately on Namjoon’s shirt,
curving down to bite unbelievably gently at the blade of Namjoon’s jaw, “a goddamn idiot. Why
do I like someone who’s so fucking stupid? What is my problem? Do I just have really really bad
taste in men? Finally get the fucking guts to tell Hyosang to get lost—”

Namjoon went cold, and he pushed back a little. “Am I like him?”

Jin stared at him. “What?”

“Hyosang.” Namjoon swallowed. “I’m not telling you I like you because I want you to stay - I
mean I do want you to stay but I get that it’s your choice - and I never wanted to be like—”
“You’re nothing like him,” Jin interrupted. "I turned down the offer to go to DC last week. I'm
doing my post-doc work at the MFDS in Seoul. It’s already decided. Paperwork signed and
everything. You’ve just been avoiding me so much I haven’t had a chance to say anything and -
and last night I didn’t know what to say, so I just—"

Namjoon’s blood went cold, then hot, then cold again. "You turned it down?"

"What, you think just because you can speak English everybody can?" Jin placed one hand on
Namjoon's chest, over his collar bones, cupped around the base of his throat. "Not all of us are
geniuses, Joonie. Some of us have to figure out interpreters and it's a pain in the ass."

"But it's still a really good opportunity, Jin - and I could, I mean I c-could tutor you in English, it's
not a big deal, you could—"

Jin bent down, hand pushed up hard against Namjoon's chest, and pressed his lips to the corner of
Namjoon's mouth. "Joonie," he murmured against Namjoon's lips, "shut the fuck up."

Back in February Namjoon had ended up on one of the brand new leather couches in the VIP
section over the dance floor at Woo Jiho's new club, had gotten under that girl, had curved up into
her and felt his blood pulse and rush and felt his body respond and felt his head go hot and felt his
skin tighten up like it was very suddenly three sizes too small and felt simultaneously so goddamn
relieved that a girl could make him feel that way after spending almost all day freaking out over
Jin's collar bones and yet still so goddamn wrong because the person over him just wasn't who he
wanted them to be. Back in February Namjoon had gotten under that girl from Woo Jiho's new
club and when he'd curved up into her and felt her body respond, felt his blood vibrate right back in
that same desperate frequency, all he'd had in his head had been this isn't right because all he could
think about was Jin, was Kim Seokjin, was Kim Seokjin and his goddamn collar bones.

Jin slid over Namjoon so that he was straddling his hips and Namjoon curved up into him, felt his
blood pulse and rush, felt his body respond, felt his head go hot, felt his skin tighten up like it was
very suddenly three sizes too small - and all he had in his head was this is right because Kim
Seokjin was exactly exactly exactly who Namjoon wanted him to be. He was Jin. He was Kim
Seokjin. He was human and imperfect and he fell down the stairs and lost his patience and burned
the rice and couldn't dance and owned way too many goddamn sweaters and bought really
obnoxiously practical Christmas presents and conspired with Hoseok behind his back to get his
way on Halloween and he was Kim Seokjin. He was Kim Seokjin and he wasn't going to
Washington DC.

He was Jin, he was Kim Seokjin, and while he wasn’t going to Washington DC he seemed bound
and determined to get to at least second base with Namjoon. (It was a shorter trip, for one thing. All
he had to do was get Namjoon’s shirt off, and he was halfway there already.) “You’re swearing,”
Namjoon groaned, lifting both arms to allow Jin to slip the t-shirt over his head. “You never swear.
Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Jin sighed, ducking down to kiss Namjoon’s throat. “I’m fucking fantastic. Since
when are you interested in men?”

It turned out that kissing a dude wasn’t weird at all. It was a lot like kissing a girl, really, except...
except he’d never been quite so goddamn in love with any of the girls he’d kissed. He’d liked
them, he’d been able to see futures with them, but this was Jin and Namjoon was so fucking deep in
love with him it was absolutely disgusting really.

He found himself wondering if touching somebody else’s dick (Jin’s dick, but still - somebody
else’s dick) was going to be a similarly spiritual experience. Maybe he’d get to find out.
“I don’t know.” Namjoon yanked at the hem of Jin’s t-shirt, almost loath to remove it and destroy
the way the collar framed the curve of his clavicles so perfect but not so attached to the visual that
he wouldn’t rather see the entire thing instead. And - and jesus. Jesus. He’d seen Jin shirtless
before but he’d always been trying not to look and his proportions were perfect and his skin was
flawless and the muscles moved under his skin and he was fucked. He was so fucked, he was so
fucking in love with Jin, this was ridiculous.

You are so fucked, Yoongi had said. He was so fucked.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon repeated, wrapping his arms around Jin’s ribcage to pull him in tight,
pressing a kiss to the center of his chest. Jin sighed, a breath so weighted that it was nearly a moan,
looped his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s just you. I only wanna be with
you.” He bit gently at the swell of Jin’s pectoral muscle. “And that - I don’t know that either.
Months. Years. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I thought you were straight.” Jin tugged Namjoon’s face up and curved down into him, kissing
him nervously like he was worried Namjoon would disappear into the ether. “I’ve thought you
were straight this whole time, I couldn’t—”

“Surprise?” Namjoon gripped Jin’s waist and rolled them both over so that Jin was on his back on
the mattress.

Jin hissed at the sudden chill of the cotton sheet, arching up for half a second, and - and jesus,
Namjoon couldn’t fucking take it anymore. “In Yeosu,” he stuttered out, one of Jin’s legs between
his own, Jin’s hands stretched up to splay hot fingertips over the skin of his stomach. “In Yeosu I
dreamt we kissed.”

Jin froze. “What?”

“In February,” Namjoon went on, leaning down to prop his weight up on one hand on either side of
Jin’s head, “when I thought you had some guy in your shower—”

“Oh, god,” Jin groaned, running a hand down his face.

“—I went to Jiho-hyung’s new club and made out with a girl,” Namjoon stammered, feeling his
cheeks pink with heat. “For like thirty whole seconds, but then I had to stop because I couldn’t
keep from thinking about you instead. I kept thinking about you and how that girl wasn’t you and
how she was supposed to be you and I didn’t get it, but over Christmas when we were here
together and the power went out I almost didn’t want that to end.”

“You’re so stupid,” Jin said. Closed his eyes. “I’m so stupid. I’ve been trying not to like you for -
god - for three years or something, I don’t know—”

The words blew the breath out of him. He dipped down, rocking his hips against the swell of Jin's
thigh, hand slipping under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, the heat and proximity of Jin's
whole entire self driving him just a little bit out of his mind. He dipped down and stopped Jin’s
mouth, kissing him the way he’d been trying not to for months. Jin made a noise deep in the back
of his throat and rolled up into him, looping his arms up and over Namjoon’s shoulders.

It turned out that touching somebody else’s dick (Jin’s dick, but still - somebody else’s dick) could
be pretty goddamn okay, especially when doing so drew that choked out gasp from Jin’s lungs.

NAMJOON
 May 8

He woke up slow, in fits and starts. He woke up and fell asleep again, drifting in and out of
consciousness uncertainly. He was half too cold and half too warm and he couldn’t figure out why
—

—until the weight of another person leaned in over him and poked him in the ribs.

“It’s morning,” came Jin’s voice, low and hoarse with sleep. “It’s May eighth and the kids are
outside shouting about National Parents’ Day.”

“Not their parents,” Namjoon mumbled into the sheet, wrapping both arms over the pillow he’d
stuck his head under at some point during the night. “You’re kinda their mom, but like - ow, stop,
stop, Jin - Jin, jesus, will you stop poking me in the goddamn ribs—”

“Get up,” Jin sighed. “Go tell them to give us another hour.”

Namjoon pulled his head out from under the pillow, fully intended to fix Jin with an absolutely
venomous glare, and... and then Jin was there. He was right there, lying on his back on the sheet
with his face tipped up toward heaven and a small smile on his lips and nothing on but a pair of
gray boxer briefs and (jesus) a brand new set of bruises and bite marks that Namjoon vaguely
remembered putting on his skin the night before.

“Um,” Namjoon said. “You uh. You... you bruise easily.” He glanced down at himself. “I don’t
bruise easily.”

Jin opened one eye and give him a quick, sleepy once-over. “I’m persistent,” he said, and closed
the eye again. “One more hour.”

Namjoon groaned and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, his head full of stones and
cotton wool, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms before standing and stumbling over
Jin’s comparatively clean floor toward the door. When he finally reached it the door was rattling on
its hinges and Jimin and Taehyung had apparently started an impromptu National Parents’ Day
duet singing the praises of found families and more specifically found mothers, particularly ones
named Jin who were good cooks and impressive doctoral candidates.

Namjoon flipped the lock. Turned the knob. Opened the door.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk all fell absolutely silent, and Namjoon quite suddenly remembered
that all he had on was a pair of underwear and a slightly impressive collection of mild bruises.

“Jin,” he said, trying not to meet any of them in the eye, “says he wants to sleep for another hour.”

There was another moment of silence which lasted approximately twenty-five years.

“Another hour,” Taehyung echoed, in an unnaturally high voice. “Right. Yeah. Gosh. No problem.
Another hour.”

“Another hour,” Jeongguk said, voice wavering almost imperceptibly.

“Another hour,” Jimin said - and oh, god, a slow grin was beginning to creep over his face. “Don’t
worry about anything. Hell - we’ll give you two.”

When Namjoon fell back onto the mattress Jin sighed and rolled over, tucking in close and warm
against him. “What’d they say?” he mumbled sleepily, mouth tantalizingly close to Namjoon’s ear.
 “They said we could have two hours,” Namjoon said. Twisted a little. Planted a kiss at the corner
of Jin’s mouth. “Pretty sure Jimin thinks we fucked last night.”

“Well.” Jin opened his eyes, but didn’t seem to focus on anything. “Not last night. But we’ve got
two hours.”

Something hot and desperate curled low in the pit of Namjoon’s stomach. “Yeah. We’ve got two
hours.”

Chapter End Notes

/tootles celebratory horn/

 Interlude - May
Chapter Notes

WARNING: this chapter has sex in it, and has been dubbed "the interlewd" by
proofreaders. This is where Namjoon learns about the gay birds and the gay bees and
is the only explicit sex in the fic. There is almost no forward plot movement so if you
don't feel like reading sex then just wait a bit for the next chapter. :)

They hadn’t ended up actually ever fucking, an extra two hours notwithstanding. Namjoon had
very quickly realized how desperately clueless he was (he was very very interested in every single
aspect of Jin’s body while somehow simultaneously utterly terrified) and Jin, thank god for him,
had picked up the cue easily and pulled back. Didn’t push. Let Namjoon set the pace.

It had been three weeks, and Namjoon was absolutely sick of the pace he had set.

It had been three weeks, and (besides Jimin and Taehyung glaring at him as though trying to read
his mind while Jeongguk stared at the floor as though trying to fade out of existence) nothing much
had changed. The house was still basically the same, though that horrible tension had dissipated
into nothing. The frat had been an argument in the shape of a house for quite some time but now
things were... they were okay again, they were reasonable, for a while everybody tread lightly just
in case but eventually everyone came around to the idea that things were somehow back to fine like
they were supposed to be.

Jin and Namjoon still slept in their own beds, in their own bedrooms. They still worked on their
own projects on their own computers. They still went to their own office hours. They kept the
same names for one another in their cell phone contacts, didn’t change their relationship statuses on
Facebook. They were still friends.

They still had movie nights, except instead of these nights taking place in the common room on the
middle floor of the house now Namjoon would inevitably end up in Jin’s bed, under the covers,
watching whatever on the abominably tiny screen of Jin’s laptop with its abominably tinny
speakers with one arm looped over Jin’s abominably broad shoulders - trying like hell to pay
attention to the story instead of Jin’s profile. Instead of Jin’s mouth. Instead of Jin’s collarbones,
peeking out over the loose collar of one of the stretched-out t-shirts he tended to wear around the
house.

They still had movie nights, except instead of finishing the movie Namjoon would inevitably find
himself pulling Jin in close. Pressing a kiss to his temple. Slipping the fingertips of one hand down
the neckline of Jin’s stretched-out t-shirt to trace the curve and angle of Jin’s intoxicating
collarbones. Namjoon would inevitably find himself incapable of keeping his hands to himself and
Jin would inevitably respond rather positively, which meant that they hadn’t managed to watch a
whole movie through to the end credits for the last three weeks... but they still hadn’t done much
beyond make out very, very excitably.

It had been three weeks, and Jin had let Namjoon set the pace, and Namjoon had no earthly
goddamn clue how to step on the gas.

His first problem, (he thought furiously to himself, as he scrolled through pages and pages and
pages of gay sex advice articles while absolutely burning to death with horror and humiliation),
was that he had no idea what Jin was interested in doing in the first place. Maybe all Jin wanted to
do was make out excitably. Maybe Jin was one of those mythical creatures who never actually
needed to get off in order to achieve inner peace.

His second problem was that not only did he have absolutely no idea what Jin was interested in
doing, he also had no idea of what he, himself, Kim Namjoon, was either interested in or capable of
achieving. Some of the positions he’d accidentally stumbled across looked downright dangerous, if
not impossible, and where was everything supposed to go? None of it made any sense! He couldn’t
even touch his own toes without bending his knees.

Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for same sex relationships. Maybe he should go live in a cave, grow a
beard, forage for mushrooms in the forest. Anything would be better than sitting at his computer in
the middle of the night watching gay porn with the sound turned as low as possible while still
being just this side of audible, clutching a pillow over his lap and trying desperately not to think
about how he would absolutely inevitably be a huge disappointment in bed.

Jin might have been one of those mythical creatures who never needed to get off in order to
achieve inner peace, but Namjoon was horrendously human in the absolute worst meaning of the
word. He had no inner peace. He barely had outer peace. He definitely didn’t have any outer peace
when he stumbled over a small database of amateur porn featuring a guy who looked like he could
maybe be Jin’s close relative if you sorta squinted and the light was just right, but that discovery
did lead him to a different kind of peace altogether.

“Do you remember when you confessed,” Jin said one evening, flopped over Namjoon’s chest as
they tried watching A Beautiful Mind for the third time (they’d made it almost a whole thirty
minutes last time before breaking down and making out excitably - a personal record), “and I told
you to defend your thesis?”

Namjoon, for his part, had been very cautiously sneaking over to ruin their chances at breaking any
personal records as far as Length Of Movie Watched was concerned, and now found himself quite
suddenly flustered into stillness. “What?” he said after a second. “My thesis?”

“Mm.” Jin kicked one leg out from under the blanket (and jesus, how had Namjoon managed not to
notice that he was only wearing boxers? more importantly, how was it even possible for even Jin’s
calves to be cute? it defied reason) and sighed, nestling in a little closer to lay his head back on
Namjoon’s shoulder. “I was just thinking about it. Because of the movie. You know.” He glanced
up, and even in the uneven flickering light of his laptop’s abominably tiny screen Namjoon could
see the pink in the tips of his ears. “You did a pretty good job, all things considered.”

Namjoon was cupping Jin’s chin in one hand before he was even thinking about it, tipping Jin’s
face up to kiss him very, very softly at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jin breathed, his left hand tightening a little where it had been resting (relatively
innocently) on Namjoon’s thigh. “Yeah. I mean... you know. Like I said. All things considered.”

Namjoon gingerly nudged the laptop down to the foot of the bed and leaned in, until Jin
overbalanced and tipped over sideways on the bed. “All things considered? Are you saying that it
wasn’t a good defense?”

“A good practice defense, I suppose,” Jin conceded, a little breathless as he shrugged. Reached up
to loop his arms over Namjoon’s shoulders. “Your bibliography seemed to be a little lacking. Not a
very large variety of sources. Data was a little shallow.”
“Lacking. Really?” Namjoon settled in between Jin’s legs and curved down into him, nuzzling at
the skin just under the line of his jaw. “Shallow?”

“I didn’t say it was bad, just—” But then they had officially given up on watching the movie at the
twenty-three minute mark, and there was nothing for it. Just making out excitably until the credits
rolled and they realized that they’d lost yet another ninety-some minutes to the slow pace Namjoon
had set three weeks ago in a fit of nerves.

It was three hours later in the depths of early morning when it came to him - as he was back with
his nightly routine of scrolling shame-facedly through any number of terrifying porn thumbnails
(jesus fucking christ on a goddamn pogo stick, was a penis that size even possible?! it boggled the
mind) and wishing he had the guts to just go over and fucking ask Jin what he liked to do, like a
goddamn adult human. After all, Jin had, supposedly, done... stuff. This kind of stuff. Stuff with
guys. He had at least a passing acquaintance with the concept of touching somebody else’s dick
until the aforementioned somebody else reached climax, ideally.

But maybe he didn’t have to ask? He’d spent weeks doing what essentially amounted to research.
He was a doctoral candidate, he had a whole - okay, he had most of a completed dissertation. This
was what he did. He was great at collecting data and coming to conclusions. This would be fine. It
would be absolutely fine.

It took him two weeks to pull the presentation together, and it wasn’t until he was printing out all
nineteen pages of it that Namjoon paused to briefly consider how ridiculous all of this was. A
presentation. A sex presentation. A... sex-entation? (No.) He stood there in a t-shirt and boxer
briefs, looking at the title page in his hands as his printer worked industriously to churn out page
after page of mortifying sin, and wondered who, exactly, he’d become.

Namjoon determined that the answer to this was fairly simple, a decision he came to while
struggling to staple the stack of pages together without breaking his ancient stapler with the thick
sheaf of paper. The answer was that he was who he had been for what amounted to years now: Kim
Namjoon, completely and utterly whipped for Kim Seokjin.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:12, Apr 15
hey bro

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 14:13, Apr 15
I can’t help but feel as though we should come up with something other than “bro” to call one
another.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:14, Apr 15
hey pudding pop

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 14:14, Apr 15
On second thought, “bro” is fine.
 From: Kim Namjoon
Sent: 14:14, Apr 15
hey, yo, tender morsel

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 14:14, Apr 15
Joonie. I get it.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:15, Apr 15
hey kitten tits

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 14:15, Apr 15
Stop. I’m serious. Please go back to bro. What do you need.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:21, Apr 15
i want to talk to you about something

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:21, Apr 15
something super super awkward

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:22, Apr 15
... you have to promise not to laugh at me

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 14:25, Apr 15
Joonie.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:25, Apr 15
?

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 14:25, Apr 15
1) Are we breaking up? If no, 2) is it a sex thing?

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:25, Apr 15
NO

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:26, Apr 15
... and maybe

It was at this point that Namjoon heard Jin laughing in his bedroom across the hall, far more than
he believed was reasonable.
From: Kim Seokjin
Sent: 14:27, Apr 15
Okay. I was about to go take a shower, I’ll text you when I’m done and you can come over and we
can talk about your sex thing.

Namjoon had done a practice defense of his dissertation before. It wasn’t that bad. He could do
this. He could hear the sound of the showerhead going through the wall of his bedroom, the water
rushing through the pipes in the bathroom he shared with Jin. (A few months ago that was fine, it
was normal, it was no problem whatsoever. Now he found himself facing down a dragon every day
when he heard the water come on in the bathroom and he knew, he knew, Jin was completely
naked just on the other side of the door.)

Jin took long showers. (Medium length. Longer than Yoongi, shorter than Jeongguk - but then
most people took shorter showers than Jeongguk. What was so interesting in there? Actually, no.
Never mind.) He took long showers, it would be fine, Namjoon had a few minutes.

There was a horrible moment where everything he’d ever learned about giving presentations
vanished from his mind and he stood in the middle of his bedroom in his boxers and an undershirt
with all nineteen pages of his terrible research paper in his hands and tried like hell to remember
what he was doing. He could do this. (He could do this.) It would be fine. How did he normally do
this?

He was buttoning up his oxford when he heard the tap squeak closed. Heard the shower curtain
pull back, metal rings scraping over the rod and echoing against the tile. Heard Jin’s hair dryer
turning on. Okay, so what - five minutes? (Also, how embarrassed should he be that he knew Jin’s
schedule this well? Medium embarrassed? Extremely embarrassed? More or less embarrassed than
he felt over having researched and written a nineteen page paper on gay sexual intercourse?)

The hair dryer turned off. There was the sound of a latch clicking. A few moments of quiet… and
then his text notification, buzzing in his pocket.

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 14:54, Apr 15
I’m done in the shower if you want to come over to my room and talk about your awkward sex
thing.

From: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 14:55, Apr 15
remember you promised not to laugh

From: Kim Seokjin

Sent: 14:55, Apr 15
I did no such thing. Get over here before I change my mind.
Namjoon only felt a little bit like he was walking to his own execution. It was an infinitely more
pleasant sensation than it had been five weeks ago when he’d decided (at the drop of a hat) to tell
Jin to take the offer to go to the US instead of saying nothing at all. Five weeks ago when he
accidentally told Jin that he liked him. Five weeks ago when he was very briefly convinced that
he’d fucked up everything completely and absolutely and irrevocably.

Were you supposed to knock on your boyfriend’s bedroom door? Jin had texted telling him to
come over. That was like knocking, right?

He stood there for what felt like almost no time at all but was actually about four minutes, staring
at the knob on Jin’s bedroom door as the cold thin fingers of existential dread crept down his spine
- until Jin’s voice came through the wood, sounding caught halfway between annoyance and
amusement. “Joonie - I can hear you breathing! Just come in, all right? I’ll try not to laugh.”

God damn it. Once more, into the breach.

“I should probably ask Yoongi to oil the hinges on my door,” Jin said, wincing as Namjoon
stepped awkwardly over the threshold. He was nested up on his bed, big white duvet pulled up
over and around him like a little cocoon, only his face and hands showing. He didn’t glance up
from his phone when Namjoon closed the door behind him, biting his lower lip a little as he tapped
something out. “I feel like it’s a little loud, don’t you?”

“I didn’t notice,” Namjoon said.

There was a problem: Namjoon had momentarily forgotten how utterly fucking adorable Jin was.
What was he thinking, assuming he could be straightforward and professional about this? What
was he thinking, assuming he could be straightforward and professional about sexual intercourse?
Why did he keep calling it sexual intercourse? Fucking. It was fucking. He wanted to… he wanted
to engage in sexual intercourse with Jin. (Fuck. God damn it.)

Jin looked up, and - yep, nope, he was cute. He was just cute. This was terrible, and possibly the
worst (best?) idea Namjoon had ever had in his life. “I’ve been doing some research,” Namjoon
stuttered out, gesturing a little with the sheaf of papers in his right hand.

“I’ve noticed,” Jin replied mildly, eyes flickering from Namjoon’s eyes to the top few buttons on
his oxford that he’d thoughtlessly left undone. “You know our walls are kind of thin up here, right?
I could send you a few links, if you wanted. Some personal favorites.”

“Oh.” Oh, god. Oh god, Jin could hear him watching gay porn through the walls. He’d been
watching gay porn for weeks and Jin had been able to hear it. “Um. That’s… that’s okay. But,
y’know, gosh, that’s really thoughtful of you—”

“You said something about doing research?” Jin set his phone down on the sheet next to him
before reaching out to pat the mattress invitingly. “I’m just assuming it was sex research, for a
variety of reasons. Not the least of these being the cryptic series of texts you sent over a little while
ago. What’s the super super awkward thing you needed to talk about specifically?”

“Okay.” Namjoon sat down on the edge of the mattress, incapable of meeting Jin’s eye as he
flipped through the papers in his hands. What had he been thinking? God, he’d even made a table.
A table, for gay sex. A gay sex table. A table. Why? This whole thing was terrible and maybe the
cave idea was the best option. “Um. Right. So… sex.”
“Sex,” Jin repeated dutifully, mouth working a little as though he were trying very very hard to
keep a straight face. “What about it?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Namjoon said hurriedly, “what we’ve been doing has been, I mean… it’s
been really fuckin’ fantastic, but I, uh, you seem to be… I guess… waiting for me.”

“Right,” Jin said, scratching the bridge of his nose. He regarded Namjoon curiously for a second.
“Should I not be? Joonie, you’re younger and less experienced than I am, I’d feel a little weird
pushing anything.”

“And I appreciate it!” Which wasn’t strictly true. He was the president, sure, he knew how to lead,
but… maybe not necessarily when entirely new sexual experiences were involved. He’d sort of
been hoping that Jin would have jumped him by now and taken care of the whole goddamn thing.
But no, no, Jin was respectful and conscientious and thoughtful and so… so Namjoon had had to
take matters (as it were) into his own hands. “Um. So uh… right, so I’ve been doing some
research.” He flipped a page and felt his face go hot. “First I looked at, um, oral—”

“Oral,” Jin said, voice flat. He leaned over to glance at the papers in Namjoon’s hands. “You
turned to the internet to learn how to give a blowjob? You could just ask me what I like.”

“There are other types of oral,” Namjoon muttered shame-facedly. “I don’t know about all of them.
Didn’t,” he corrected. “Didn’t know about them. I did research,” he repeated.

There was a moment of somewhat weighted silence. “I can see that,” Jin commented after a
moment. “That’s…” He angled his head slowly to one side, eyes fixed on the page in a manner that
seemed almost horrified. “You’ve got drawings. Fascinating.”

“I’m good at research,” Namjoon said. “It’s one of my primary academic skills.”

Jin cleared his throat. “Well done, then. So after oral, you proceeded to…?”

“Do you know that there are a ton of things you can do?” Namjoon choked out, flipping through
the pages desperately as he tried to stall for time. This was going even worse than he’d assumed it
would, which was pretty bad in and of itself. “There’s like, seriously, fuck, I dunno—’

“There’s a lot,” Jin agreed - then smiled up at him. The light coming in through his bedroom
window reflected off of the white duvet, the white paint on the walls, the white of the paper. Jin’s
cheeks were still flushed slightly pink from the heat of the shower, and he looked comfortable and
warm and adorable and sweet and just… way, way too innocent to be having this conversation.
“Did you research enough to form an opinion on anything you might like to try?”

Namjoon opened his mouth. Closed his mouth. Opened his mouth again. “Maybe?” he hazarded,
feeling heat creeping up over his chest, his neck, his throat, his cheeks. “I mostly just, um… I
mostly just want to do, uh, stuff. With you.” He flipped back to the title page. “Maybe this whole
thing was kind of stupid.”

“No,” Jin said, beginning to lean forward just a little. “It’s not stupid. It’s important that you feel
comfortable, Joonie. I know you need to do research sometimes, to figure out new stuff before you
jump into it.” He seemed to consider this for a moment. “I wasn’t expecting a two-dozen page
research paper on the mechanics of gay sex, but—”

“Nineteen,” Namjoon protested weakly. “It’s only nineteen pages. And that’s only if you count the
bibliography.”

“Bibliography,” Jin said, covering his face with both hands. “You’ve got a bibliography. How does
one cite gay porn, exactly? MLA style? APA? Chicago?”

“I didn’t just—”

“Tell you what,” Jin interrupted, reaching forward and gently tugging the papers from Namjoon’s
loose grip. “We can go over this in more detail at a later time. Before that, I have a question for
you.”

Oh god. Oh god. This was the worst. Namjoon took a deep breath. “... Okay?”

“What,” Jin said, “do you think I’m wearing under this blanket?”

Namjoon’s brain shut down briefly. “A trench coat,” he said.

Jin glared at him. “A what?”

“I mean, no, that’s—” Namjoon scrubbed both hands over his face. “What do you mean, what do I
think you’re wearing under the blanket? Probably some - some sweatpants and a t-shirt or like—”

But Jin was pulling the comforter off of his shoulders, letting it fall gently to rest around his hips,
and the light coming in through his bedroom window reflected off of the white duvet, the white
paint on the walls, the white of the paper… everything turning his bare skin into something
incredible, unbelievable, something very very close to angelic.

Namjoon’s mouth went dry. “Oh,” he said. “You don’t have a shirt on. That’s. Hmm.”

“You’ve seen me without a shirt on before.” Jin ran a hand through his hair, cocking his chin to
one side to shoot Namjoon a funny look. “It’s not new.”

“Yeah but if you don’t have a shirt on—”

“If I don’t have a shirt on what?” Jin bit his lower lip and smiled, eyes curving sweetly. “Tell me -
in all of your research, did you come across what ‘prepping’ means?” He seemed to consider this
for a second. “It’s not really a necessary part of the whole ‘oral’ thing you seemed to have gotten
stuck on, but—”

“I know what prepping is,” Namjoon cut in quickly, hands wringing a little with nerves. “I know
that it’s, um, important. If you wanna have a certain kind of sex.”

“Do you?” Jin arched his eyebrows. “Want to have a certain kind of sex?”

God damn it. God damn it, all of this and Namjoon had never once stopped to consider (after the
unfortunate misunderstanding back in February, anyway) whether Jin would be, ah, under or
above. “Oh,” he said, hands tightening on his knees. “A certain kind of… you mean with you?”

Jin reached out and bapped him lightly on the shoulder. “No, with Hoseok - yes with me you idiot
who else are you going to have sex with?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s not like we’ve ever—”

And then Jin was getting up on his knees, letting the blanket fall from his hips. Leaning forward,
gripping both of Namjoon’s shoulders and nudging him back onto the mattress. He was… okay,
well, he wasn’t naked. (Namjoon was a lot more disappointed than he thought he would be.) He
was wearing underwear - a pair of Super Mario boxers that looked like they should belong to
someone half his age - but still, he wasn’t wearing much of anything. His skin was still flushed a
little pink from the shower and he was warm from being under the blanket and he was swinging
one leg over Namjoon’s hips and settling over him…

... picking up the sheaf up papers again and flipping through until he got to the penetrative sex
section. “I have to admit,” Jin said after a moment, “this is pretty impressive. You really covered
all your bases here. A good variety of beginner positions.” He flipped a page over. “You really
don’t have an opinion?”

“Besides ‘yes please’?” Namjoon cleared his throat and flexed his hands over Jin’s thighs. His
hips. His waist. Hooking his thumbs into the elastic waistband of Jin’s boxers to trace the v of his
pelvis. “Um... I mean I’ve never been, uh, on the receiving end before, so I’d kind of... like to start
slow—”

“Kim Namjoon,” Jin said, eyes still fixed on the paper. “Would you like to have sex with me?” His
gaze flickered upward briefly, lips quirking slightly. “It’s okay if you’re not ready, really. We can
do whatever. Or not. Whichever you like.” He bit his lip. “But would you?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon breathed out, hands tightening. Pulse thumping in his veins. “Yeah. Yes. I’d...
yeah. What do you want to—”

“I didn’t strictly have to take a shower,” Jin interrupted smoothly, throwing the paper
lackadaisically over one shoulder and moving to slowly unbutton Namjoon’s oxford, tugging the
hem out of the waistband of his trousers. “I suppose you can never be too clean, but it was really
more extracurricular than that.”

“Extracurricular,” Namjoon echoed stupidly, watching Jin’s fingers slip down the plackets of his
shirt. “Um. What do you mean by extracurricular?”

“I suppose I’m an optimist?” The shirt was unbuttoned all the way and now Jin was sliding his
hands over Namjoon’s collarbones, over his shoulders, down his arms until the shirt was all the
way off and left on the bed. “I was sort of hoping that this would be what your super awkward
thing would be. Asking about sex, I mean.”

“So wait—”

Jin curved in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth as his hands slipped down to struggle with
Namjoon’s fly. “Are you interested in fucking me?”

Oh hell. Oh, hell. At some point over the past five weeks Namjoon had developed an almost
Pavlovian response to curse words coming out of Jin’s mouth - he only seemed to swear when he
was losing control for whatever reason. Rarely (if ever) when he was angry, but when he was
excited? Happy? Relieved? Shocked? Turned on?

Jin definitely swore when he was turned on, and when Jin was turned on that usually meant
Namjoon was turned on, and so Jin swearing meant it was Go Time despite Namjoon never having
had the guts to truly Go when the getting was good.

But Jin was swearing (he’d said are you interested in fucking me? like it was a completely natural
question) and it was Go Time and Namjoon had spent two goddamn weeks working up the nerve
to go when the getting was good - and it was good. It was so goddamn good. Jin was on top of him
wearing only boxers, skin almost unbearably warm to the touch and flushed pink underneath the
surface. Jin was on top of him systematically removing his clothing, the tip of his tongue peeking
out from between his lips with concentration. Jin was on top of him, and Namjoon’s dick had been
ready for it to be Go Time for roughly two years - even if he hadn’t been fully aware of it for the
entire time.

“I am really really really interested,” Namjoon managed, at the same time as Jin slipped a hand
under the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs and palmed him experimentally. “Extremely
interested. Like - ah, fuck—”

“So there are a couple of ways we could do this,” Jin said, voice slightly hushed and almost sing-
song with how calmly delighted he seemed to be. His fingers curled around the length of
Namjoon’s cock, seeming to measure the girth of it for a second before moving his grip loosely
down the length to push the fabric of his underwear down and out of the way. “You’ve had sex
before, so it’s not like I need to teach you everything.”

Namjoon was overheated even before the blush bloomed in his chest, rushing up his throat,
spreading over his face and the tips of his ears. “I mean, yeah - but - but you don’t know how much
or, or what kind of—”

“The walls up here,” Jin repeated slowly as though speaking to someone a little bit stupid, “are
kind of thin. I realize that it’s been a while and you might be a little bit rusty but I know for a fact
it’s been even longer for me.” He leaned forward to prop himself up on one hand next to
Namjoon’s head, bringing himself up onto his knees so he could tug Namjoon’s trousers and
underwear down far enough that Namjoon could kick them off. “But like I was saying, there are a
couple of ways we could do this.”

“A couple of ways,” Namjoon echoed stupidly, not sure whether he’d rather be watching Jin’s
mouth as he spoke or Jin’s hand on his dick or the way the muscles in Jin’s shoulders rolled as he
moved. (He didn’t even want to think about the collarbones. He’d never thought of himself as
having a collarbone kink before, but something about Jin’s really did it for him. It was kind of
impressive, really - under a t-shirt, peeking out of the neckline... they seemed to hold such promise,
seemed like such a good destination for his mouth.) “Yeah, I mean, I looked at a lot of different
positions. Some of them were kind of, um...”

“Kind of what?”

Namjoon swallowed his nerves. “... Intimidating?”

Jin stared at him for half a second before letting out a quick, surprised laugh. “Yeah,” he said after
a second, once he’d collected himself again. “Yeah, intimidating is a good word for it. Don’t worry
- like I said, I’m pretty rusty. I’m not about to get too fancy.” He paused. Glanced down. Bit his
lower lip. (God, he was so fucking cute.) “I...” Then - god, was he blushing? “Could I confess to
something? Something kind of embarrassing?”

Namjoon shoved himself awkwardly up into a sitting position, trying desperately to catch his
breath. (Here he was - in Jin’s room. In Jin’s bed. Naked. Would wonders ever cease? Hopefully
not.) “Are you serious? Jin—” He hesitated. Jin was looking more and more embarrassed by the
second. “Yeah,” he said, trying to keep his voice non-threatening. “Yeah, of course. God, the only
reason we’re together is because I confessed to something kind of embarrassing first. You can
confess to whatever. I’ll listen.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Jin repeated, pulling back a little. Sitting back on his heels, knees still
bracketing Namjoon’s hips. He ran a hand over his face and groaned. “God, I can’t believe this
is...”

Everything Jin did was cute. Everything Jin did was gorgeous. Every awkward stutter or goofy
laugh or the way he hit whoever was within arm’s reach when he was delighted with something,
everything was so goddamn enchanting that Namjoon could barely stand it - so he didn’t. Reached
out, cupped Jin’s cheeks in both hands, twisted his fingers into the damp strands of hair. Pulled him
in. “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to confess to anything right now, but I’ll listen when you
do. All right?”

They’d kissed hundreds of times (thousands of times, a million) but each time was still good. It
was still so good. It never got boring. Namjoon lost his breath every time. Got lost. Forgot where
he was, what time it was, any and all obligations he might have. Jin’s mouth was something that he
could get lost in. The way he breathed, air catching in his throat when Namjoon tried new things
sometimes. The sounds he made, the funny moan, the whimper he let out when Namjoon pushed
hard against him, the way he responded in a way that seemed almost hungry.

“When this started,” Jin breathed against Namjoon’s mouth, “I said - I said something stupid,
remember? Something about how I’d been trying not to like you for three years, I don’t know—”

“Yeah,” Namjoon mumbled back, gripping the hair at the back of Jin’s head a little bit more tightly
to pull his chin up. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I didn’t always - f-fuck, Joonie—” Jin stuttered into silence as Namjoon’s teeth found the place on
his throat that messed him up every time. “I didn’t... I didn’t always try that hard, I guess.”

“Mm.” Jin’s pulse was beating hard in his throat and Namjoon moved along the artery, nuzzling
against the skin.

“I-I used to, um, think about you. Sometimes.”

What?

Namjoon pulled back. “What?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Jin moaned, slumping over and burying his face in his hands. “Fuck, Joonie,
you have no goddamn clue what it’s like to spend almost every waking second a few meters away
from somebody you just... really really really want to have sex with. It’s - ow, fuck—” He glared at
Namjoon accusatorily, clutching at his upper arm. “What the hell was that for?!”

“I have,” Namjoon managed, “a goddamn clue. Do you have any idea how much of my mental
energy has gone into not thinking about having sex with you? Because it’s a lot.” He paused.
“Wait, you used to think about me? Like... sex? With me?” He blinked. “Are you sure?”

This time it was Jin who got the pinch in first. “Am I sure?” A second pinch. “Am I sure?!” And a
third. “Kim Namjoon, you—” He seemed to be momentarily at a loss for words, face pink and
slightly shiny, boxers straining with the pressure of his insistent excitement. “Yes I’m sure, Kim
motherfucking Namjoon, I’ve been fantasizing about you fucking the daylights out of me almost
every goddamn day for the last three years whether I wanted to or not.”

Silence.

“Fucking the daylights out of you?” Namjoon said, voice a little bit more creaky than it should
have been.

“Oh my god,” Jin groaned, covering his face with his hands again. “No, just - just forget I said
anything, that’s not—”

It was too late. It was way too late. Namjoon had heard it, and he intended on holding those words
dear to his heart all the way to the grave. “So,” he said, leaning forward and tugging Jin’s hands
gently away from his red-flushed face, “do you mean like... what are we talking about here?”

Jin bit his lower lip. “This is - I mean, if we’re going to have sex the first time—”

“If we’re going to have sex for the first time,” Namjoon breathed, rolling them over so that Jin was
on his back on the mattress and Namjoon was tucked up tight between his legs, “then I want to
fuck you the way you want me to fuck you.” He licked his lips, eyes flickering down to Jin’s
boxers - the only stitch of clothing remaining between them. “You’re, um... you’re going to have to
walk me through the first part though.”

“Next time,” Jin said, hands clenching on Namjoon’s shoulders. “Like I said, I was a little
optimistic - I, um, prepped myself. In the shower.”

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck, he prepped himself in the shower? Namjoon’s head was flooded with images of Jin in
the shower by himself, leaning against the wall, trying to be quiet just in case the conversation they
were about to have didn’t go the way he was hoping. “You prepped yourself,” he echoed. “In the
shower. Holy fuck.”

Jin shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s not that unusual,” he mumbled, face pinking up all
over again. “I mean, I don’t know... sometimes you need a little something extra when you’re
stressed out, you know?”

“Are you trying to tell me,” Namjoon groaned, scrambling for the waistband of Jin’s boxers, “that
you’ve been fingering yourself in that shower all goddamn year and I never knew about it?”

“Not every single day or anything, it’s not like—”

“Getting yourself off?”

Jin gave him a look, almost as annoyed as it was breathless. “You can’t expect me to believe
you’ve never jerked off in that shower. Hell, I’ve heard you—”

But Namjoon had finally found purchase on the elastic of Jin’s boxers and was finally tugging
them down, ducking in quick to shut Jin up with a kiss. It was harder, deeper, more desperate than
they’d kissed before, maybe - Namjoon’s head full to bursting with the thought of Jin under the
stream of the shower head. One hand around his cock, the other inside himself, skin flushed and
perfect, head falling back against the tile as he tried to kept his breath even.

“A little while ago,” Namjoon mumbled against Jin’s mouth, throwing the boxers on the floor,
“you told me to ask you what you like. I really... I really, really want you to show me what you
like.”

Jin’s intake of breath was so quick it was almost a hiccup, but he hesitated a second before jerking
his head once in affirmation and shoving himself up to lean against the headboard. Curved over to
scramble with the nightstand drawer. “Um, not to be too optimistic, but I got—”

“If you’ve got condoms and lube just get them out,” Namjoon stuttered, eyes following Jin’s hands
as he rifled through the drawer. “Better over-prepared than under, right?”

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst?” Jin pressed a foil-wrapped condom against Namjoon’s
chest and then re-emerged a second later with what looked like a very nearly brand new bottle of
lube in his hand. “How very Sun Tzu of you.”
“Sun Tzu didn’t say that, that was—”

“If you don’t shut up I won’t show you how I jerk myself off,” Jin interrupted, settling against the
pillows and spreading his thighs a little. He was - god, he was fucking beautiful. Namjoon had felt
Jin’s erection through clothing before, had even touched the skin of it directly a few times before
he’d found himself spooked by the ever-present fear of failure, but he’d never actually had the guts
to look at it. He’d seen Jin in nothing but underwear a million times maybe but this was... this was
different.

His shoulders were broad and his waist was tucked in tight so that the blades of his hipbones
formed an almost perfect V. He was laid back in such a way that his muscles... they weren’t perfect
and defined and vacuum-packed (like Jimin got sometimes) but he was smooth and toned and
gorgeous, pink-gold skin shining a little in the early spring light filtering in through the thin white
curtains.

He’d already started working himself - slowly, carefully, tongue flickering out to wet his lips as he
watched Namjoon’s face for any expression of discomfort or embarrassment. He was... he was
actually a bit bigger than Namjoon expected, all things considered. Girth large enough that his
thumb and middle finger just barely overlapped at the base, shaft long enough that it took a second
to slowly slip from top to bottom and back again.

“If you want,” Jin said suddenly, breathlessly, pushing himself up a bit with his free hand, “you
can come over here and I can teach you?”

If Namjoon had said anything then it probably would have been something unprintable, but instead
he just lurched forward awkwardly and caught his weight on one palm on the wall next to Jin’s
head. “Yeah,” he said, tongue thick in his mouth. “Yeah. Yeah?”

“You can just start with what you like and I’ll adjust as needed,” Jin said, taking the hand from his
dick and resting on one thigh. He bit his lip. “You’re sure?”

“Remember when I asked if you were sure and you pinched me three times?” Namjoon took a deep
breath and very, very gently wrapped his hand around Jin’s cock. “I’m not gonna pinch you, but I
just want you to think about that.”

Jin sucked in a quick breath and held it, tensing up slightly as he watched, mesmerized, as
Namjoon started working up and down his length. “That’s - that’s different,” he insisted, voice a
little bit whiny and pitching up into something that was almost a squeak as Namjoon smoothed the
pad of one thumb over the ridge. “I’ve had a crush on you for—”

“—Three years,” Namjoon interrupted, throat tight. Jin’s heart rate pulsed in the vein running
along the underside and it was like Namjoon’s body couldn’t figure out whether this was the best
or most terrifying thing that had ever happening to him. Judging by where his blood was beginning
to fervently collect, it was quickly determining that this was almost definitely the best. “I’m just
annoyed that I had no clue why I got so nervous around you all this time.”

“I made you nervous?” Jin groaned and arched up a little as Namjoon twisted his hand slightly on
the downturn. “Why on earth did I make you nervous, it’s not like—”

“Because I was fuckin’ in love with you,” Namjoon cut in. Breathless. Stupid. Embarrassed.
Nothing left to lose. He had nothing left to lose - Jin was here, they were here, neither of them were
wearing any goddamn clothes and this was it. This was it. Might as well lay everything on the
table. He shifted, curved over - and Jin choked out a gasp as he realized what was happening, as
Namjoon parted his lips and tried to remember every time he’d gotten a blowjob and what made it
good.

“Oh,” Jin said, his voice almost (almost) conversational and calm. “Oh. Fuck. Fuck, Joonie—”

Then Jin’s fingers were in his hair, careful and desperate at the same time. Jin’s hips were rocking
slightly in time to Namjoon’s awkward rhythm. Jin’s breath was coming quick and heavy,
hiccuping every time Namjoon sank back down. “Please,” he groaned. “Joonie - I don’t want to get
off like this, I want you to fuck me.”

Namjoon pulled back, the head of Jin’s dick passing the seal of his lips with an obscenely wet
popping noise. He took a second to catch his breath, to gather his wits... “Right,” he said. “Right.
Right. Um—”

“Condom,” Jin breathed, scrambling for it and tearing open the foil. Testing the reservoir with
shaking fingers. Steadying Namjoon’s dick with one hand at the base and rolling it down the
length with the other. “I’ve got the lube. How do you want to do this?”

“I just wanna fuck the daylights out of you,” Namjoon sighed against Jin’s skin, pressing a kiss to
his throat right before popping open the cap on the lube and filling one hand to coat his dick as
liberally as he could. “You said you prepped yourself, but—”

“Well, I mean, if you want to make sure for yourself you certainly can. It’s not like - fuck,
Namjoon—”

Namjoon wasn’t a virgin by any stretch of the imagination. He’d had sex before, a lot of sex, some
of it a lot better and a lot less embarrassing than other rendezvous - never with another guy, of
course, and certainly no one who he cared about as much as he cared about Jin. He was always
careful, he was always respectful, but this was... he was terrified of messing up, of hurting Jin, of
breaking what they had before it even got off the ground. Jin was hot under his hands, skin smooth
and tight, but with the lube on his hand he slipped in easily and Jin gasped and choked under him.

Jin said he’d prepped himself but he was still tight and god - if he was still so goddamn tight than
what the hell had he been like before? Namjoon tried to be careful, tried to keep his breath steady
even as Jin moaned under his attention. He was tight (he was so goddamn tight) and he was so
fucking hot and the sounds he was making, choking deep in his throat, gasping, responding to the
press of Namjoon’s fingers by pushing down against him in a way that could only be described as
needy.

“Please,” Jin stuttered, voice already halfway wrecked as he looped his arms around Namjoon’s
neck. “Namjoon, please—”

Who knew where he got the idea, but it seemed right. It seemed like it would work. It seemed like
something he needed to do, he had to do - so he did it, scooping Jin’s legs up by his knees and
hauling him up and against the headboard (which in turn slammed hard against the wall) and
kissing him like he didn’t have anywhere else to be. Anything else to do. Anyone that could ever
possibly be more important than Jin, here and now and at his mercy.

“You have to tell me,” Namjoon breathed against Jin’s mouth, “if there’s anything you don’t like.
Anything. It doesn’t matter. I’ll stop. Okay?”

“Fuck,” Jin moaned, cock smearing precum over his stomach.

“Jin seriously - tell me, okay?”

“Yeah.” Jin jerked his head once or twice in a distracted nod, cheeks flushed. “Namjoon, please—”
He was so hard and Jin was so tight and the heat was so unbearable that it almost hurt when
Namjoon lowered Jin down - giving a modicum of control over to the force of gravity for the
assist. Jin’s breath went from tight to stopped completely as Namjoon pushed into him, holding it,
biting his lower lip, not making a sound until Namjoon was finally finally finally flush against him
and he finally gasped in a breath, clenching every muscle in his body. “Wait a second,” he choked
out, “wait just a second—”

“Yeah,” Namjoon mumbled, voice muffled against Jin’s shoulder. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck
he’d never even imagined that he’d be able to do this ever in his life and he was already
dangerously close to getting off - just the heat and the pressure and the feel of Jin against him, the
way Jin’s voice sounded, the way he tightened up and relaxed and gasped with it. “Yeah, yeah, I
can wait. It’s cool. It’s okay.”

He shifted just a little and Jin whimpered next to his ear and it was - god, it was so much. “Okay,”
Jin breathed. “Okay, Namjoon, please—”

Jin was balanced almost precariously, broad back pressed against the tall wooden headboard and
arms tight around Namjoon’s shoulders and knees slung over Namjoon’s elbows, but the tight
proximity kept him pinned even as Namjoon pulled out slow (losing his breath as Jin clenched
around him) and then thrust in deep. When he pulled back a second time an uncharacteristically
high noise escaped Jin’s lungs, then when he thrust in again Jin became louder still - mostly just
breathing, gasping, moaning Namjoon’s name and rolling his hips in response to meet every
increasingly powerful thrust, but still growing gradually in volume until he was almost sobbing
against Namjoon’s shoulder.

This was, officially, way way way better than any of the gay porn Namjoon had furtively
downloaded over the past five weeks. (Even the ones with the guy who kind of looked like Jin.) Jin
was crying out every time Namjoon slammed into him. For a few seconds Namjoon worried about
the way the headboard was thumping against the wall but when he tried to pull back Jin choked
and gasped out something that sounded a lot like god, harder, Namjoon please and so he stopped
caring about the headboard completely.

Jin’s fingernails scratched over his back and between that and the way Jin’s voice sounded and the
friction and the intensity and the pressure and the heat... “Jin,” Namjoon moaned, “Jin, god, I’m
gonna—”

With Namjoon’s hands busy keeping Jin’s legs up he couldn’t do anything, so Jin reached down
and jerked himself in a stuttering rhythm - only a few times before he was losing himself,
tightening up around Namjoon so much that it was almost unbelievable, muffling a scream in
Namjoon’s chest as he shook and pulsed through the release. The feeling of it was so much, it was
too much, the heat coiled in Namjoon’s stomach broke like a spring pushed past its limits and then
his vision was tunneling, his rhythm was thrown off, he pumped hard into Jin five, six times as he
spilled out into the condom—

—then lost his strength and fell backward on the mattress, Jin coming down with him as they both
slowing came back to reality.

“I don’t remember,” Jin said after a minute, still breathless, voice hoarse, “seeing that position in
your research.”

Namjoon tried to shrug, but only barely managed to lift one shoulder. “I improvised,” he sighed
sleepily, grunting as he unhooked his arms from Jin’s knees. Pulled out carefully. Rolled over to
lay Jin down gently on the sheets. He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned down and press
a kiss to Jin’s temple, slick and salted with sweat. “Give me a couple minutes and I’ll get a towel,
okay?”

“Mm,” Jin said back, pressing his face into the blankets and sighing happily. “I love you.”

“I...” Namjoon sat up, biting back a groan as his joints protested every minute. Looked down at Jin
- stretched out on the mattress, completely fucked out, stupid with sex, half asleep after coming as
hard as he had. He was shining with a layer of sweat and the diffused light through the thin white
curtains made him glow even more than he did already. He was... he was gorgeous. He was
awkward and imperfect and human and he burned the rice, fell down the stairs, messed up and
cried and ate too much but he was gorgeous, and he was Jin, and he was absolutely everything
Namjoon had ever wanted even when he hadn’t been able to admit it to himself.

“I love you too,” Namjoon said, brushing damp strands off of Jin’s forehead.

In the second floor common room, all of the other inhabitants of the Beta Tau Sigma frat house sat
in awkward, mortified silence. Yoongi and Jimin had settled on one of the two couches, each with
their own textbook. Hoseok had spread out a selection of magazines on the coffee table. Taehyung
and Jeongguk had taken over the other couch - Taehyung reading webtoons on his phone and
Jeongguk frozen in the middle of playing a video game.

“Is it over?” Jeongguk said finally, voice squeaking out of him. (As if on cue, his character in the
game died and there was a sad little trumpet noise.)

“God willing,” Jimin mumbled, looking vaguely shellshocked.

“Do you remember,” Hoseok interrupted, eyebrows arching as he glanced back down at his
magazine, “when all of you were convinced they were fucking and I was the only one who
knew they weren’t? This,” he said, pointing up at the ceiling. "This is only one of many reasons
why."

“I’m moving out,” Yoongi announced. “This is only gonna get worse.”
 The One Where Life Goes On Regardless
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“It just doesn’t seem fair, you know?”

Jin’s fingers fumbled in Namjoon’s tie, hands pausing as he bit his lower lip, but he didn’t look up
and meet Namjoon’s eye. “Things change,” he said after a second. “Nothing can be the same
forever.” He glanced up, trying to flash his brightest smile as he finished tightening Namjoon’s tie.
“Would you really want things to be the same as they were at the beginning of the year?”

“Well—” Namjoon looked briefly flummoxed, mouth working as he glared down at himself - palm
smoothing down the front of his shirt, the black tie, making sure everything was laying flat. “I
mean, no, of course not, but that isn’t—”

“Bad comes hand-in-hand with good, babe.” Jin picked up his blazer and shrugged into it, tugging
at the lapels to settle it on his shoulders and turning to inspect himself in the mirror. “Isn’t this the
kind of thing you say? You have to live in the moment or something?”

“I am living in the moment,” Namjoon protested, coming up behind Jin to slip his hands around his
waist, chin resting on Jin’s shoulder as he looked at the both of them standing together in the
mirror. “It’s just that this particular moment is pretty fuckin’ shitty.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Jin said quietly, leaning back against Namjoon’s chest.

“That’s why we have to try and make it fair,” Namjoon countered, burying his face in the back of
Jin’s neck. “You can’t just say ‘life isn’t fair’ and then not try to do anything about it.”

“You’re just being intentionally difficult now.”

“... Yeah. Sorry.”

Jin turned in Namjoon’s arms, bringing his own arms up to loop around Namjoon’s neck. “It’s
okay. It’s a weird day.” He glanced around the empty room. “It’s been a pretty weird week.”

“It’s been,” Namjoon murmured, pressing his lips to Jin’s temple, “an incredibly weird year.”

They were in Jin’s room - or what had been Jin’s room a few days ago, anyway. Now it was mostly
empty, bed frame lacking a mattress, a few boxes (labeled meticulously in Jin’s careful, rounded
handwriting) scattered over the floor boards. Jin liked to keep his space tidy so there really wasn’t
a lot left to do to make sure everything was put away properly, packed or stowed or swept up or
dusted. (There was a hole in the drywall behind the bed’s head board. Jin hadn’t had time to figure
that out yet.)

Classes had wrapped up two weeks ago, finals the week before. Jin had successfully defended his
dissertation and now was only a piece of paper away from being Kim Seokjin, Doctor of Food
Science. Everyone in the house had retained their required grade point averages.

The window was open - late June breeze whispering in. There was the sound of a lawn mower
coming from somewhere down the street, the excited shouts of frat kids, the smell of flowers and
fresh cut grass. The world seemed to be humming with beginnings and possibility and new life
while Jin and Namjoon were in Jin’s old room surrounded by dust and endings and change that
came in a package deal with who knew how much risk, and they were busying themselves getting
ready for a funeral.

YOONGI
Saturday morning after finals

It wasn’t that Yoongi particularly minded when Jimin fell asleep on him - he typically liked it a lot
- but normally when Jimin fell asleep on him it was in a bed. With pillows, and a blanket, and at
least a modicum of comfort. Normally when Jimin fell asleep on him Yoongi could still stay awake
for a bit, adjusting how they lay to make sure nobody woke up with a stiff neck. Normally when
Jimin fell asleep on him it wasn’t on one of the couches in the basement and they normally didn’t
pass out the whole goddamn night.

“Fuck,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, trying to adjust and failing horribly as his right arm
turned out to be so asleep he couldn’t move it at all without flopping around like a dying fish. “God
- Jimin—”

“Nn.” Jimin was still mostly asleep, draped over Yoongi’s body like some kind of barnacle/golden
retriever chimera. “Yeah.”

“Wake up. You’re crushing me.”

“Y’liked it last night,” Jimin mumbled into Yoongi’s armpit.

“Okay,” Yoongi stuttered, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep over his face, “but that was
then and this is now and my arm is asleep and you gotta move, babe.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“A living boyfriend with all his limbs in workin’ order. Jimin, seriously—”

“Fiiine.” Jimin shoved himself upward, eyes still closed and head hanging from his shoulders.
“You’re so rude, god. Least you could do is wake me up with like... a blowjob. Or something.”

“The fuck am I supposed to give a blowjob when I’m pinned under you?” Yoongi scooted a little to
sit against the arm of the couch, wincing as he slowly massaged the blood back into his arm.
“Y’gotta have realistic expectations here. It’s not like I’m some kind of - um—”

“Y’know,” Jimin breathed, crawling up to prop up his weight on the arm of the couch, hands
bracketing Yoongi’s ribs, “when I first met you I thought you were really quiet and grumpy and
like... annoyed all the time.” He wet his lips, eyes flickering down to Yoongi’s mouth. “Y’know
that?”

“Um,” Yoongi said again, flushing as Jimin settled easily between his legs. They’d both fallen
asleep in jeans and t-shirts and Yoongi’s hips felt like they were going to creak under the pressure,
the stiffness of the denim. “That’s... Jimin-ah, I am pretty quiet, that’s true, but - fuck—”

Jimin bent in, kissing him under his ear. “Turns out I just had to get to know you a little better.
You’re not that quiet once you really get comfortable.”

“You’re a jerk ,” Yoongi choked out, words catching on his tongue as Jimin moved down his
throat - alternating soft kissing with gentle, teasing nips with his teeth. “What are you even talking
about, I’m totally quiet. Compared to the rest of you I’m practically fuck —” His shirt coming up,
Jimin’s mouth finding his chest. “You’re - you’re in totally the wrong position to get a damn
blowjob, y’know that?”

“Didn’t say I was hoping to get one,” Jimin mumbled, voice muffled against Yoongi’s skin, fingers
beginning to fumble with the fly of Yoongi’s jeans. “Good job on your finals, baby. I’m proud of
you.”

“I don’t even have a job yet,” Yoongi said, letting his legs fall open a little wider as he gripped
down hard on the couch cushions to ground himself. He’d had a number of pleasant experiences
over the course of his life - getting ice cream when he was a kid; learning to play the piano; getting
into his dream school - but most of them paled in sad comparison to the visual of Park Jimin
between his legs. Eyelids heavy, thick lips pink and shining and parted, small hands working down
the fly of his jeans. “I did all right on my finals but I don’t even have a job yet.”

Jimin shrugged with one shoulder, hands finding Yoongi’s belt loops and tugging the jeans off his
hips and down his legs. “Formality. Namjoon-hyung said you had a clear shot as a production lead
in one of Jiho-hyung’s clubs. You sent ‘em your demo, they just gotta call you back.” He made a
funny noise in the back of his throat as he palmed Yoongi appreciatively through the thin fabric of
his underwear. “They’ll call you back. And when they do—”

“—I’m gonna get my own place,” Yoongi breathed, watching transfixed as Jimin slid his
underwear out of the way. It had been months and he still wasn’t used to this. He didn’t know if
he’d ever get used to this. He’d been in love with Park Jimin for some embarrassingly extended
length of time and it still didn’t feel real sometimes, it still felt like any second he was going to
wake up and it’d be November and nothing would have changed. But instead he kept waking up
and time kept moving forward and now, now, now—

“Fucking hell ,” Yoongi moaned, head tipping back, one hand finding the back of Jimin’s head -
fingers slipping in the strands, catching on tangles left over from sleep. “Fucking hell, Jimin—”

Jimin looked up. Made eye contact as he slowly pulled off. “You’re gonna get your own place,” he
said, voice thick. “And we’re gonna christen every single flat surface.”

Going to university was good. It was good. He’d had a good time, he’d learned a lot, he’d made
some really good friends. He’d dated a little. Fallen in love. Fucked up a couple times, said the
wrong things, done the wrong things. Learned how to take a fall. Learned how to apologize.
Learned when to lie and when to tell the truth. Learned how not to lie to himself.

In a way he wasn’t ready to move on. He was afraid of changes and endings and the subsequent
new and terrifying beginnings that followed inevitably in the wake of the inexorable passage of
time, but then things were always changing. Old things were constantly dying and new things
opening in their place, the world flickering by in a series of frames like a movie reel.

He wasn’t ready to move on. Not entirely. But not everything had to end. There were some things
he could still take with him.

“I love you,” Yoongi breathed, hand tightening just barely in Jimin’s hair. “Holy shit I love you.”

Jimin pulled off again. Smiled. Pressed a kiss to the inside of Yoongi’s thigh. “I’m pretty lovable,”
he said. Licked his lips. Grinned, eyes curving into crescents so that they seemed to almost close
with the intensity of happiness in that smile, the smile Yoongi had fallen in love with a
humiliatingly long time ago. “I love you too.”
 NAMJOON
The following Thursday

"No," Yoongi said, waving a hand at Hoseok to get him to step back, "just sit the fuck down so I
can get get everybody in the goddamn frame, a’right?"

"You need to be in it too, babe," Jimin said, leaning forward and beckoning. "It can't just be the six
of us, this is supposed to be—"

“There’s a timer,” Yoongi interrupted, biting his lower lip as he fiddled with the controls of his
massive DSLR. “I know this one’s important, that’s why I’m tryna’ get Hoseok to sit the fuck
down on the bottom step for a goddamn second so I can frame it up. Yo, fetus—”

“I’m not a fetus,” Jeongguk said, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. It was just part of the old call
and response. “What?”

“—y’gotta leave a little room so I can get in, okay? Scootch to the left - no, shit, my left, your right
- like a coupla’ centimeters? Okay okay okay, okay, I think we’re nearly... no, hold on. God damn
it. The fuckin’ aperture’s all... shit...”

Namjoon leaned forward, curling his arms around Jin’s shoulders. “Next year,” he mumbled into
his boyfriend’s ear, “remind me to just hire a photographer.”

Jin pursed his lips but couldn’t quite hide the grin in the corners of his mouth. “Shush,” he
murmured back, gently pinching one of Namjoon’s fingertips. “Yoongi’s doing a great job. He’s
been taking all the end-of-year group shots for as long as it’s been a tradition.”

“He’s not gonna be here next year, though. Might as well just hire a photographer.”

Namjoon and Jin glanced over. Jimin was sitting on the top step of the frat house porch next to
Namjoon, fingers threaded together over his knees. He wasn’t looking at them. He wasn’t looking
Yoongi. He was just looking down, focusing on nothing. Jin tipped his head back to shoot
Namjoon a Look - it was the kind of look that said What Are You Going To Do About This One,
President Dipshit? and Namjoon had become intimately familiar with it over the past few years.
(Part of him had been expecting - well, maybe hoping was a better word - that the frequency of that
particular look would go down after they started dating, but if anything it seemed to play an even
bigger role in their relationship than it ever had before.)

“He’ll be here,” Namjoon said, leaning over and throwing an arm over Jimin’s shoulders, pulling
him in. “Just cause he’s not gonna be in the photo of current members doesn’t mean he’s not gonna
be here. He’s moving out, it’s not like he’s dying. Once you’re a Beta Tau Sigma you’re a Beta
Tau Sigma for life no matter how far you go.”

“Okay,” came Yoongi’s voice, and then he was scrambling up the steps, slipping on flower petals
that had collected in drifts on the front stairs, barely catching himself on Jeongguk’s head as he
shoved his way through (”Hey, fuck, that’s—”) to tumble into a sitting position in the middle, next
to Jin. “Ten second timer! Pretend not to be a big pile of assholes!”

“Nobody but you has to pretend, hyung,” Taehyung said, reaching forward to ruffle Yoongi’s hair
affectionately. “And Namjoon-hyung maybe.”

“You little fucker,” Namjoon snapped, reaching around Jimin to smack Taehyung upside the head.

“No time,” Yoongi snapped, eye on the blinking light on the camera. “Photo now, beatdown on
Taehyung later. Everybody smile!”

The first photo turned out all right, which was probably for the best - Taehyung would have had a
split lip in the second one.

JIN
Friday

It was early. Not early early, but early enough (on the Friday after finals when no one had class or
work or appointments or really anything better to do than just sleep in and ignore any and all
upcoming responsibilities) and the house was quiet. No one on the ground floor. The common
room empty. No noise coming from either Namjoon’s room or the shared bathroom.

Jin was awake, though - sitting in the middle of his floor carefully packing a box filled with
Nintendo memorabilia.

He was surrounded by boxes, most of them full but a few still empty and waiting to be filled up
with the last few pieces of Jin’s life at Beta Tau Sigma. He’d never really been a full, active
member in the strictest sense of the word - he wasn’t in the right major, for one thing. He’d never
been in the right major. He lived in the house as more of a mother figure than an active participant,
but in some strange turn of events he’d become part of it. It had become part of him.

Things change.

There was a quick, short knock on his open door as he pulled a length of packing tape off the roll.
“Yah, Joonie,” Jin said, not looking up, “could you come over here and hold this closed?”

“Yeah, no prob.”

Jin startled, glancing up into Hoseok’s face as he leaned down to hold the flaps of the box together.
“Oh,” Jin said, feeling suddenly and exceptionally stupid. “Um. Hi. You’re up early.”

“Nah.” Hoseok grinned at him. “It’s almost nine. I got junk to do, y’know? Can’t lie around all
morning.”

“Tell that to the rest of the people who live here,” Jin mumbled back, taping the box closed. “Do
you know Namjoon hasn’t enrolled in a class that starts before eleven in the morning since his
sophomore year?”

“Sounds like him.” Hoseok slid down on the floor, folding his legs under him and reaching out to
grab an empty box. “You packing up early, then?”

“I’m not coming back here after the summer.” Jin chewed his bottom lip as he marked down the
contents of the box on the cardboard. “Might as well get all of this out of the way now.” He
glanced up and grinned. “It’s a good space. Gets pretty hot in the summer, though. And if the
power goes out in the winter it’s the first to go all arctic on you. It’s nice to only share a bathroom
with one person - even if that person is Kim Namjoon.”

“Try sharing with Tae,” Hoseok countered. “Namjoon’s a dream in comparison.”

Jin shuddered. “Ooh. Okay. Yeah. Never mind.”

They sat in relative silence for a bit, wind blowing in the window, cardboard squeaking as Jin
packed his movie collection into the next box. Hoseok sat forward thoughtfully, elbows on his
knees, fingers laced together, lips pursed. There was something unspoken. A question, maybe. A
statement. A declaration.

“I think,” Hoseok said after a minute, “I could maybe use some advice.”

Jin paused for half a second before glancing up, permanent marker stilling in his grip. “Some
advice?”

“You... I mean....” Hoseok grimaced, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve been here since the
beginning. I know dynamics and people and how to roll with stuff, y’know? But you’ve kinda got
the benefit of experience on your side here.”

“There are no sides in this,” Jin replied, moving to write on the box. “I wasn’t eligible, you were
the obvious choice, everybody voted. I may have the benefit of experience on my side but it’s your
side too. I’m on your side, Hoseok.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Hoseok said, handing him another box. “You’ve been vice
president for... god, how long has it been? I dunno. Point is, you know your way around. You
know how to handle Namjoon. You know how to handle the kids. I can... I don’t know, I can like
manipulate or whatever—”

“You do more than that.”

Hoseok looked up sharply. “What?”

“You do more than that,” Jin repeated, shoving the box to the side. “You mostly work behind the
scenes, I know, but when you’re vice president it’s honestly not much different. You have to be a
little bit louder and a little bit more in the spotlight but mostly you just have to play the game,
move the pieces, course correct when Namjoon gets stuck on a problem and needs a kick.” He
seemed to consider this for a second. “Though to be entirely honest a lot of the potential for
interpersonal problems went away when Yoongi and Jimin finally got together. Things were a little
more delicately balanced before that.”

“God,” Hoseok groaned, running a hand over his face. “Do you know how long I had to work on
that? Talkin’ Yoongi into anything is like convincing a cow to barbecue itself.”

Jin’s eyebrows went up. “That was you?”

“Eventually.” Hoseok shrugged. “I did all the maneuvering I could think of behind the scenes -
leavin’ ‘em alone together, gettin’ Jimin drunk so Yoongi’d flip out when he thought he’d been
abducted, gettin’ Tae out of their hair so they could work on whatever awkward mating dance they
needed to get through... but yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “I finally just shut both of ‘em in my room
and got Tae to help me push a couch over the door so they’d have to face each other.”

Jin stared at him for a second. “Huh,” he said, voice a little distant. “I guess that explains those
weird scrape marks in the common room.”

“Hyung,” Hoseok said. Rubbed a hand over the back of his head. Bit his lip. “I’m just... kinda
nervous, you know? You’ve done a really good job, and I mean - I know you’re still kinda gonna
be around or whatever, but I don’t really feel like I’m adequate enough to actually—”

Jin reached out. Bapped Hoseok gently in the shoulder. “Have a little faith in yourself,” he said -
and smiled. “You’re the vice president now. You need to keep your chin up. Namjoon’s going to
need you if you ever get another pledge - if he gets his way all the initiations will probably end in
hospitalization.”
“Namjoon isn’t the one who gave the kid a shot glass filled with straight grenadine, that was - ow
ow ow okay okay I get it sorry—”

Jin brushed his bangs out of his face. “You’ll do fine,” he said. “And besides - it’s not like you
don’t know where to find me.”

JEONGGUK
Saturday

“We few,” Taehyung hummed under his breath, straightening Jeongguk’s collar carefully, “we
happy few, we band of brothers—”

“I’m not really sure why I’m going to this,” Jeongguk said down at himself. Jin had taken him to
get a suit at some point since February and now he was actually in something that fit - it actually
looked good, which was a funny realization to come to. He was accustomed to jeans and boots and
white t-shirts under baggy sweatshirts, and here he was looking practically dapper. It wasn’t... bad?
Per se? But it was strange, and when he looked in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the
closet door it took him a second to realize that it was still him looking back.

“For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother,” Taehyung continued, sidestepping
around Jeongguk to adjust how his cuffs sat, how his jacket smoothed over his seat. “Be he ne'er so
vile, this day shall gentle his condition—”

“Tae, what the hell are you quoting?”

Taehyung reached up and flicked Jeongguk on the back of the head. “Uncultured swine,” he shot
back, voice lacking any poison whatsoever. “Henry the Fifth, act four, scene three. His Saint
Crispin’s Day speech. It’s an important piece of theatrical history, Kookie.”

“Well excuse me very much for not having memorized the entirety of Shakespeare’s works,”
Jeongguk muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his head. “You didn’t have to hit me.”

“I didn’t hit you, I just flicked you. Big difference. Okay, turn around, I have to straighten your tie
—”

Jeongguk obeyed without thinking about it, chewing on the inside of his cheek as Taehyung
worked. The room he’d lived in for the last two terms was almost empty - most of his belongings
packed up, clothes spilling out of a big canvas bag on his bed. Taehyung’s stuff was still splayed
out a little bit, but it looked like Jimin didn’t even live there anymore. Maybe hadn’t ever lived
there.

“I still don’t really know why I’m going,” Jeongguk said, glancing over at Taehyung.

Taehyung seemed almost not to hear him for a second, attention focused in tight on the sloppy knot
Jeongguk had wrangled his tie into before Taehyung had gotten to him. His tongue was sticking
out of the corner of his mouth slightly in concentration, and for the first time Jeongguk realized
that he wasn’t looking up at Taehyung anymore.

How long had it been? He couldn’t remember. He hadn’t thought about it. There had been too
much going on, classes and exams and papers and compositions. So much of the time he and
Taehyung spent together was on the floor of the common room or sprawling out over their beds or
huddled together at the kitchen table and at some point Jeongguk had grown enough that now he
wasn’t looking up at Taehyung anymore and there was a place somewhere deep in the pit of his
stomach that wasn’t really sure what to do with that information.

“Um,” he said, wetting his lips awkwardly. “Hyung, I—”

“Because Jimin needs us,” Taehyung said suddenly, tightening the knot the rest of the way -
bringing it up to sit flush against Jeongguk’s starched collar before smoothing one palm down its
length to make sure it lay flat - before looking up and flashing that same rectangular grin that had
caught Jeongguk’s attention the first time in Composition 210 at the beginning of Fall term. “I
know you might not feel like you... I dunno, that you don’t need to go. Or you don’t deserve to go.
Or you’re not family enough to go. But Jimin needs us, and that’s enough.”

“Am I, though?” Jeongguk sucked in a breath. Squashed the sudden twist of nerves in his stomach.
“Am I really family enough?”

Taehyung stared at him for a second - and then laughed, eyes disappearing into crescents as he
rocked back with the sheer hilarity of it. “Are you family enough? Are you family enough?!”

“Well, I don’t know, like—”

“You’re family enough, Kookie.” Taehyung reached up (because he had to now) and looped an
elbow lazily around Jeongguk’s neck. “Once you’re a Beta Tau Sigma you’re a Beta Tau Sigma
for life. No matter how long you’ve been here, no matter how far away you go. Of course you’re
family enough, nerd.”

“For this, though?”

“Especially for this.” Taehyung pulled Jeongguk’s head down to ruffle his hair a little before
letting him go. “When’d you grow so much? When’d you find the time to grow this much?” He
reached up and flicked one of the earrings in Jeongguk’s earlobe affectionately. “You’re just like a
real boy.”

“Yah, Tae—” Hoseok was leaning into the room, hanging loosely from the door jamb. He was in
the same suit he’d been wearing back in February, hair pushed back off his forehead, glasses
instead of contacts. “You seen Namjoon or Jin-hyung?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in thought. “Y’think maybe they’re still—”

Footsteps on the stairs, the sound of a door closing, Jin’s voice saying something like it’s not going
to be that bad and Namjoon coming back with you say that now, but —

“Mom and dad,” Hoseok shouted, shoving himself backward and out of the room. “Yah, I gotta
check in with you—”

Jeongguk and Taehyung exchanged glances. Taehyung just grinned. Shrugged. Stepped forward,
dragging Jeongguk along by the elbow.

“—and I was thinkin’ it’d be cool if we, like, opened it up,” Hoseok was saying, gesturing
emphatically. Namjoon looked vaguely annoyed, Jin looked mildly amused... all in all in was a
fascinating tableau. “Maybe some freshmen could come by, check out the house - y’know?”

“No freshmen pledges until Winter term,” Namjoon replied automatically, raking a hand through
his hair. “Hoseok—”

“I mean freshmen this year,” Hoseok interrupted. “They’d be sophomores next year. Tae’s got
some friends, Kookie knows a couple people in his intro courses—”

Jin glanced over, raising his eyebrows at Taehyung and Jeongguk as they tumbled over the
threshold. His arms were crossed over his chest but there was something in his face that betrayed a
hint of amusement rather than severity. “You two know some people who might want to pledge
next year?”

“And would it really be appropriate to invite them to a wake?” Namjoon cut in irritably.

“I’m graduating,” came Yoongi’s voice. “I’m not dying.” He stepped out of his room, shoving his
hands in his trouser pockets and blowing a strand of hair out of his face. “I say go for it. Might as
well try to keep the place alive. It’s all well and good, that whole ‘you’re a Beta Tau Sigma for
life’ thing you got goin’, but it doesn’t mean shit if there’s no Beta Tau Sigma to come back to
when you need it.”

Hoseok gestured at Yoongi while fixing Namjoon with a victorious stare. “See? The dead speaks.
It’s not a wake, it’s a party . Celebration of a good run or whatever. We can show some kids
around. It’ll be fun.”

“I can text a couple people,” Jeongguk said awkwardly. “I mean - some of ‘em are in Tau Delta but
most of the guys I know think Beta Tau Sigma has better, um... ambiance...?”

“Shit.” Taehyung whistled. “Ambiance. Now that’s a good word. Ten points, Kookie.”

Jin laughed. “Yeah, okay. Text some of your friends. Joonie’ll order more pizza, no big deal. But
seriously - Hoseok, Yoongi, and I all need to be at the starting zone by ten. We need to get going.”

There was confusion for a few minutes as everyone split up, ducking back to find cell phones and
sunglasses and who knew what else, until finally Jeongguk found himself standing in the common
room by himself feeling a little bit dizzy.

“Yo. Fetus.”

Jeongguk looked up. Yoongi had stepped at the top of the stairs down to the ground floor, hand on
the banister, and was giving him a funny look. “Yeah?”

Yoongi shrugged. “You grew up pretty good. It was good havin’ you around in my last year.
Thanks.”

Jeongguk ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks? For what?”

“For coming to graduation.” Yoongi flashed him a grin, starting down the stairs. “You’re family
now, kid. Family is as family does.”

Kid? At least he seemed to have graduated from fetus.

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:16, June 18

hey dude
From: Choi Seungcheol
Sent: 10:16, June 18

Jeon Jeongguk~

From: Choi Seungcheol

Sent: 10:17, June 18

What’s up man? How’re your grades?

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:17, June 18

let’s just say i passed everything and leave that there

From: Choi Seungcheol

Sent: 10:18, June 18

Hahaaaa. Ouch.

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:18, June 18

nah, it’s cool. hey, Beta Tau Sigma is doing a post-graduation thing tonight

From: Choi Seungcheol

Sent: 10:19, June 18

Beta Tau Sigma? Like... the elite Music School frat?

From: Choi Seungcheol

Sent: 10:19, June 18

You don’t strike me as a big party crasher, man.

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:20, June 18

what?

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:20, June 18

dude, no

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:20, June 18

i’m a member of Beta Tau

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:21, June 18

i’m not crashing it, i’m seeing if you want to come. i cleared it with the president.
From: Choi Seungcheol
Sent: 10:21, June 18

........... you asshole.

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:21, June 18

???

From: Choi Seungcheol

Sent: 10:21, June 18

This WHOLE TIME you’ve been a member of Beta Tau

From: Choi Seungcheol

Sent: 10:22, June 18

MIND BLOWN, JEON JEONGGUK

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:23, June 18

do you want to come or what

From: Choi Seungcheol

Sent: 10:24, June 18

Um, yes??

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:24, June 18

sweet. bring a couple other people from the Music school if you want. not a ton, the house isn’t
huge

From: Jeon Jeongguk

Sent: 10:24, June 18

i have to put my phone on silent, we’re attending graduation to support graduating members and
the president is giving me the stink eye. come by around 7

NAMJOON
Saturday evening

He probably could have had slightly more self-control, but he didn’t really feel like it. What use
was self-control here? Now? It had been a ridiculously long day (sun shining directly onto the
section where the still-enrolled members of Beta Tau Sigma had camped out to cheer on their
hyungs) and his suit had been constricting and when they’d gotten back everyone had split off
without even having to talk about it, each heading back to their rooms to disassemble their formal
attire and get into something that felt a little less like a socially acceptable straitjacket.
He probably could have had slightly more self-control, but hell - he really, really didn’t feel like it.
He’d changed into sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt and then laid on his mattress for ten
minutes with his eyes closed, psyching himself up for spending even more time in the middle of a
crowd.

But Jin would be there. Jin would be there, hand on his arm, hand on his waist, eyes finding his in
the hectic shuffle and knowing what he needed without having to ask.

Jin was there and maybe Namjoon could have had slightly more self-control, but when he thumped
down the stairs (past Jeongguk and Taehyung holding some kind of arm wrestling championship in
the common room, Taehyung insisting that Jeongguk was cheating) and down the corridor (Jimin
and Yoongi and Hoseok all sprawled out on one of the couches, all tangled up and awkward and
laughing hysterically over something that seemed to only make sense to the three of them) and into
the kitchen - Jin was there. Jin was there, standing at the counter cutting up fruit, dressed in a pair
of well-cut jeans and a pink hoodie that set off his skin and looking beautiful.

“Doctor Kim,” Namjoon mumbled, coming up behind him and pressing a kiss to the side of his
neck, arms looping around his waist. (Okay, so he probably didn’t have to rock his hips against
Jin’s ass.) “You’re looking very handsome this evening.”

“I have a knife,” Jin replied smoothly, pausing only briefly as he chopped a slice of melon into
nearly perfect cubes.

“Is that a threat? Are you threatening me? Didn’t you take the hippocratic oath or something?”

“I’m not threatening you,” Jin shot back, turning in Namjoon’s arms to pop a cube of melon into
his mouth. “Just a warning. And no, doctors in Food Science don’t have to take the hippocratic
oath. Nerd.” He bent in to kiss away the track of melon juice at the corner of Namjoon’s mouth.
“You’re kind of a messy eater.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining last night,” Namjoon countered, slipping his hands under the hem of
Jin’s sweatshirt. “If I recall correctly your exact words were - ow ow ow god damn it Jin don’t
pinch me there I’m still tender—”

“We’re by ourselves,” Jin hissed at him, incapable of hiding his smile. “But we’re not alone. Try to
behave for once in your life.”

“So that means I shouldn’t lift you up onto the counter and have my way with you?”

“Well.” Jin paused, seeming to consider this for a moment. “Certainly not now. We’ve got
company coming, and besides - I just cleaned in here. And you’re messy.”

“Oh.” Namjoon glanced over his shoulder, down the hallway to the front door. “Jesus. Yeah, I
forgot we had company coming.”

Jin slung both arms around Namjoon’s neck and leaned back a little, slipping one knee between
Namjoon’s thighs. “Maybe later.”

It took a second for him to focus, to keep himself from curving down and catching Jin’s mouth. His
hands tightened on Jin’s hips and he almost (almost) lifted him up onto the counter anyway before
he caught himself. “Later,” Namjoon breathed, air hiccuping in his chest. “Yeah, I actually... I
know your post-doc work doesn’t start immediately, and even when it does it’s just going to be in
downtown Seoul, so, um—”

One of Jin’s eyebrows went. “So? Spit it out, Joonie.”

 “I’m gonna be here,” Namjoon stuttered out. “At the house. Over the summer. I need to focus on
my dissertation so I’m gonna need access to the studios on campus so I figured I’d just... stay?”

Warm hands slipping under the hem of his shirt. Jin’s leg coming up just slightly. Breath catching
in Jin’s chest, lips parting. “Yeah?”

“And I was thinking - if you wanted, I mean, if you didn’t already have a plan for whatever - you
could stay too? For a while. We’d have the house to ourselves. I’d work on my dissertation, you’d
do your post-doc work, we could... I dunno, we could walk around in our underwear all the time if
want, nobody else is gonna be here.”

“You promise?” Jin said after a second.

“What?” Namjoon blinked. “Promise what?”

Jin leaned in. Pressed a chaste kiss to Namjoon’s jawline. “That you’ll walk around in your
underwear all the time. That’s my condition. It sounds like a great idea, but I’ll expect a certain
amount of time with you wandering around wearing next to nothing. Write it into the lease
agreement.”

“We’re by ourselves,” Namjoon growled at him, pressing him even tighter against the counter.
“But we’re not alone.”

“We will be this summer,” Jin countered. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Namjoon opened his mouth to agree when he heard the front door open behind him, and he pulled
slightly out of Jin’s arms to glance over his shoulder. Jeongguk and Taehyung were in the
entryway, opening the door to three kids Namjoon hadn’t seen much of before.

“Company,” Jin murmured behind him in a singsong voice, turning back to finish chopping the
fruit. “We should at least try to act professional. For a little while.”

“Jeongguk and Tae can distract them for a minute,” Namjoon shot back, stepping in to lean against
the counter next to Jin.

“Okay,” he heard Jeongguk saying down the hall. “Listen. This is important.”

“Extremely important,” came Taehyung’s voice. Namjoon could almost hear the way he nodded
solemnly.

“His name,” Jeongguk said, “is Kim Namjoon.”

At his side Namjoon could see Jin’s lips twitch in the ghost of a smile as he leaned in. “You’re
infamous,” he murmured under his breath. “I didn’t realize that this was part of the hazing ritual.”

“Don’t ask,” Namjoon said, looping an arm around Jin’s shoulders. “You don’t even want to know
what Jimin and Taehyung told Jeongguk last October.”

“Probably nothing I don’t already know.” Jin prodded Namjoon gently in the ribs. “You do always
finish the banana milk without telling anybody, babe.”

“That was one time. One time.”

Chapter End Notes

 Thank you everyone!! I've had a very good time, and I hope you have too.

If you want to come talk to me (or yell at me or ask questions or just, idk, send hate-
beams at me through the internet) my tumblr is linked on my AO3 profile. :)

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one Beta Tau Sigma by rkatz

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