How does something fall apart?
More importantly, he wonders, how does something fall apart when it was in his hands the whole time? He remembers the taste of mint and sometimes chocolate and sometimes vodka, he remembers the subtle taste of himself in the edges and on the cusp, and he wonders. The way his hands could cover the inside of Jimin’s thighs and dance up over inches of skin like they knew Jimin’s body better than his own.
How does something fall apart?
He wasn’t so good at remembering other things, like dinner dates and half-told stories during late night conversations, and he wasn’t so good at noticing when Jimin stopped asking and Jimin stopped telling. As much as he’d said it wasn’t Namjoon’s fault, as much as he’d tried to let it go and break it off gently, Namjoon could recognize his failures as he scrolled through his text messages after too many drinks and too much time alone.
Are you coming home soon? Left unanswered for too many hours, and Namjoon hates that he responds, telling Jimin to get dinner on his own because the song just isn’t done, it’s not - it’s not perfect, there’s something missing there’s always something missing and he can’t find it and it’s overly poetic that now that thing is Jimin. It’s stupid and cliche, and it feels like he can’t breathe for so long he forgets what it’s like. They try to joke, tell him he’s only allowed to mourn one week for every month they were together, but they don’t understand and they don’t have what he has in his head, because it didn’t start this way.
He guesses nothing ever starts like this, but there’s so much of Jimin buried inside him and strung through his apartment, he can’t get away from him, and he can’t lie to himself, he doesn’t want to. All he has is what Jimin left behind, and it’s nothing that smells quite like him, and he can’t remember the last time he heard his voice, and sometimes that drives him crazy.
He can’t fuck anyone in his bed. How many times, he wonders, did he roll over in the middle of the night or the middle of the day and throw his arm across Jimin’s back and get a smile in return? How many times did they ruin the sheets and how pathetic is it that Namjoon thinks about that still?
He knows they judge him, he knows it’s creepy and sad and everyone talks about him behind his back but that’s okay because he’s a fucking idiot .
He remembers Jimin’s smile too much.
He wakes up and he remembers, always there in the mirror as they brushed their teeth, or laying in the afterglow of lazy morning sex.
Everyone tells him that he’s over-romanticizing the past. You only remember the good stuff after a break-up . Pictures and videos that show how happy he is - of course they do, Namjoon, people only capture happy memories. But he remembers the fights because Jimin was quick to frustration and he got mean when he was mad, and sometimes he jerks off thinking about that, too. He climbs into bed after and tries to conjure up a smell his brain can’t quite remember, and wishes he had the opportunity to fight again.
Are you coming home soon?
How does it still hurt this bad?
Jimin said he could only chase him for so long and sometimes that’s the only thing he can hear echoing in his head because he never felt like Jimin had to chase him; he was there the whole time. So in love, and he had been since the beginning, he was bad at texting and remembering and sometimes he put his foot in his mouth because his brain didn’t work quite right. Oh sure, he could wax poetic at a dinner party about something inconsequential for an hour and a half, but ask him something about Jimin, and suddenly it’s a little crass or too physical or just not quite right, and Jimin would get this look on his face like it wasn’t the right answer, and Namjoon didn’t know how to fix it.
This isn’t to say he doesn’t function just fine. He does. It feels like a part of him is missing, replaced with concrete, but he goes to work and produces his music until the sun comes up and he wishes he had someone to persuade him to go home. He goes to his friends’ parties, his family functions and explains to old relatives for the third time that no, his partner isn’t there anymore, and he goes to weddings and smiles and doesn’t think about how Jimin had talked about how he always wanted a trashy honeymoon suite at one of those rundown motels if they got married.
How does it fall apart when he loved him so much? How was that not fucking enough? Why does it still hurt this bad, he screams at 3 in the morning on the drunken stumble home after telling a beautiful woman I’m sorry, but my boyfriend will be home soon . She slapped him for cheating on him thus far, for kissing and whispers and hands on a body that didn’t feel anything like Jimin’s, and it makes him feel better. He wakes up the next afternoon with half a memory but enough to try and bury himself back in his sheets.
“How long has it been?”
“Seven months.” Reflexive, impossible for Namjoon to not remember.
Yoongi scoffs, and Namjoon understands why. He wasn’t good at dates and keeping track of time when it mattered, but now it’s all he does. “Move on.”
“I will.” He can’t. He changes the subject and pretends to forget.
He hasn’t even seen Jimin since a few weeks after the initial breakup. After he’d gotten his stuff and left the apartment half-empty, Namjoon hadn’t contacted him or seen him. As much as he wrapped himself in the memory of it, he refused to bring Jimin down with him. He loved him. He loves him. He deserves to be happy.
So when it’s nearly eight months down the line, and that hole in his heart is just as big, even if the edges are much duller than they used to be, and he turns the corner of a bookshop in the city - he can’t help but inhale sharply.
“Sorry - Oh. Joonie.” Jimin looks up at him, gripping a book in his hands that Namjoon tries desperately not to look at it but fails.
“Mini. Jimin,” he corrects, but it’s been eight months and he wanted to get better at noticing the signs, and he catches the disappointed shift as Namjoon formalizes his name. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Jimin hasn’t moved, but his cheeks are turning pink before Namjoon’s very eyes, and he wonders how embarrassing it would be if he broke down crying, begging Jimin to come back.
“You - Book? Your book. You’re learning French?”
Jimin looks down quickly. “Uh, well. Maybe? Just… trying to self-improve. You know.”
Namjoon nods, and he hates his heart for thumping loud enough for the whole fucking store to hear. He expects an employee to ask him to keep it quiet soon enough. Jimin bites his lip, and Namjoon barely manages to keep his eyes off it. I love you, I’m so sorry, my bed is too empty without you and I know you love your friends but I remember you said you never wanted to live with them because their house is a fucking pigsty and if you came back I promise I’d keep it so clean for you. But he settles on, “Hey.”
Jimin can’t help but laugh a little. “Hey.”
“No, I mean - coffee?” He sighs and rubs his eye with the heel of his hand. “Mini, can we talk?”
It’s soft, but Namjoon’s chest breaks open and repairs itself all in the way Jimin breathes out, “Yeah. Yes. Coffee sounds really good, Joon.”
He feels a little like Orpheus as he stands in line for their coffee, or maybe Lot’s wife, and he thinks maybe there might be at least a little importance in thousands of years and multiple mythologies warning him against the dangers of looking back, but here he is ordering a coffee that he knows by heart and hasn’t gotten to say out loud in what feels like a year, and telling them Mini for one, Moni for the other.
He feels giddy, he really tries not to, but he swallows back a smile as Jimin turns his head quickly at his nickname being called by the barista. Namjoon pretends he didn’t notice and steps up to grab it along with his own and walks back to the table to set it down.
“You didn’t have to pay for it, you know.”
They sit in silence for a while, but Namjoon doesn’t care as long as Jimin’s sitting there, right there, looking at his cup and tracing a nail over the black letters of his name.
“How have you been?”
Jimin looks up and smiles, and Namjoon’s a little offended that Jimin thinks he’d buy that smile, as if Namjoon hadn’t spent so long cataloging each inflection of the corners of his lips, enough to know that it wasn’t real. “I’m fine. What about you?”
Namjoon opens his mouth to answer but stops. How many times, he wonders, has he regurgitated that same line to his friends and his family and his coworkers just to make it look like he wasn’t still obsessed and depressed? How many times can someone say I’m fine before someone actually sees through it? He debates because he just wants Jimin to be happy, but that smile wasn’t happy, and he hasn’t gotten up to leave, and maybe it’ll be okay if Namjoon just says it for once. “Uh, do you want the truth or should I just say I’m fine, too?”
Jimin’s face and shoulders relax a little as his eyes widen. “The truth, please.”
“Really fuckin’ shitty, Mini.” And being able to say it makes Namjoon smile because he hasn’t gotten to admit that to anyone in so long, to really be able to feel it and not shove it down until it’s late at night and he’s on his own, but to be able to air it in the daylight and to someone who might care. “I’m still really not doing all that great about this. I miss you.” A lot, so much, a shit ton, I ripped my heart out and set it aside for you to have if you ever wanted it back levels of miss you .
There’s no reply for a little too long, and Namjoon rethinks his confession. Maybe Jimin was just being nice. Maybe it was too much too fast and Jimin doesn’t want anything to do with him like that and just wanted to repair a friendship that was just as good on its own before they became lovers.
“I’m sorry, that was… inappropriate.”
“No, it’s - it’s okay. If you really missed me, why didn’t you say anything, Joon?”
“I just want you to be happy, Jimin. I only ever want you to be happy, and you weren’t… I wasn’t making you happy, and you just… seemed really sure. And that’s okay,” he quickly reassures. “It’s okay that you did what you had to do, it just… fuckin’ sucks,” he ends with a small, bitter laugh. “So.” He watches Jimin’s face as he asks again, “how have you been?”
Jimin swallows, gripping his cup with two hands as he stares back. “Can we talk somewhere else?”
Namjoon’s heart stops for a moment, but his brain keeps going, nodding for him as he stands and puts his jacket back on, shoving one hand in his pocket as he holds his cup with the other. Jimin follows closely behind, and Namjoon’s glad for the the coffee in his hand because otherwise his heart would’ve kicked back in at the exact wrong time and reached out to hold Jimin’s hand.
“Where’s your car?” Jimin looks around confused for a moment before Namjoon remembers.
“Oh. It died. I had to get a new one a couple months ago.” He motions with his head to the side and begins heading away.
“You call this new?”
“Hey, it’s new to me so it still counts.”
“Aren’t you rich, Mr. Monster?”
“It’s been long time since you’ve seen me, but it hasn’t been that long. A couple songs isn’t gonna fill my pockets.”
Jimin smiles as he sits in the passenger seat. “You got a couple songs out there?”
“Yeah, actually.” And he’s proud, because he did that, but all he remembers is depositing a check and having no one he really wanted to celebrate with. He doesn’t tell him it was easier to finish songs when he wasn’t around, fueled by the desire to forget himself, drive himself to the point of exhaustion, and avoid his own bed because it was too cold and empty every time he slid into it. He tells him that he’d been really productive in the last few months, but he was slowing down now, he didn’t have the insane need to bury himself like he did before because his memories kept him company now.
It’s not like a movie, there’s no quick scene change between the moment they sit in the car to the moment they’re passionately smashing through the apartment. It builds stupidly slow, and Namjoon fully intends on talking when they get home. He bought a Keurig, the kind that Jimin always wanted, and he fucking hated it at first because he couldn’t fucking figure it out, but he bets Jimin would be impressed. He fully intends on sitting Jimin down with another cup of coffee because what else could they drink to pretend they had something to do while they talked? He lets them both into the apartment - their apartment - and Jimin wanders in, looking like nothing has changed.
Yeah, he really did have intentions of telling Jimin what it’s been like for the past eight months and how much, how hard, how often he misses him, how he was an idiot and he’ll make up every dinner and every date and every birthday or anniversary he missed if he just gets one more single chance to do it right.
What’s the saying , Namjoon blanks as Jimin freezes in the middle of the living room and inhales. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions?
Because Jimin rounds on his heel and stares at Namjoon, and it’s not quite the same as it used to be but Namjoon knows that look way too well, that glint of determination behind Jimin’s eye as he walks back toward Namjoon, and he thinks he might throw up because Jimin’s hands - his small beautiful thick delicate hands that have rubbed Namjoon’s back through a hangover and wiped him down when they were too lazy to shower after sex and interlaced their fingers together on the subway while they rode in silence - because those hands that Namjoon thought about for so long are reaching out to grab his belt loop and slowly pull him in.
He’s tempted to ask why, and what alternate reality has he fallen into, but all that comes out again is, “I missed you,” before Jimin grips the bottom hem of his t-shirt and leans up for a kiss.
It’s like riding a bike.
He’s never been more overwhelmed to ride a bike in his fucking life .
The flavor of stale coffee still sits in Jimin’s mouth, and it’s his new favorite taste as Jimin’s lips slowly part for him. He wants to rush. He wants to savor it. He somehow ends up doing both as the kiss gets deeper. His arms wrap around Jimin’s waist at the same moment Jimin stands on his tiptoes to throw his arms around Namjoon’s neck, and they manage to stumble toward the bedroom. Namjoon gets butterflies from the way Jimin kicks back to open the bedroom door, assuming correctly that the lock is still broken from the time they’d been too drunk and horny to figure out how to turn the doorknob properly so Jimin had just shouldered through it. They didn’t even realize until the next morning, and Jimin was so ashamed but all Namjoon could do was laugh.
It’s all he can get out between lifting his arms up for Jimin to pull his shirt off, and letting Jimin pull him back onto the bed to situate himself next to him. And they just kiss, for so long, and Jimin drags his nails lightly down Namjoon’s back just the way he likes it, and his other hand slides up the nape of Namjoon’s neck until it’s gripping at the roots of the back of his hair.
Namjoon shudders, and can’t believe how much he missed the feeling of Jimin’s body next to his and underneath his palm as he pushes Jimin’s shirt up and off.
“Jimin,” he says a little more insistently, beginning to get nervous that Jimin hasn’t said anything since coming back to the apartment.
He wouldn’t - Jimin’s not like - I’m not getting used am I? And Namjoon’s second thought is wondering if he would let Jimin do it even if that were the truth, just out of pure guilt and desperation. But Jimin’s not like that, that’s not who he is, so Namjoon tries to pull back again, pushing a little harder at Jimin’s shoulder when he says his name one more time. He doesn’t expect the near sob that escapes Jimin’s lips.
“Please, please let me just have this Joonie, I missed you so much.” Jimin doesn’t give him a chance to catch his breath or collect his thoughts, and he’s stunned only for a second as Jimin rolls onto his back and pulls Namjoon with him, blanketing himself with his body weight, and Namjoon lets him. He’d do anything Jimin asked right now.
Namjoon can run his mouth about a lot of things, deep things, with complicated words and accurate metaphors to try and convey the expanse of the human condition but there’s nothing in a million years that could be strung together to adequately convey the sheer wave of relief, excitement, desire, and desperation that overtakes him at the same time. It’s enough to make him want to cry, but he pushes it down by frantically burying his fingers in Jimin’s hair and tilting his head back, and he missed the way Jimin’s jaw moves against his, the way they always kissed so filthy and hungry.
And he can’t really lie to himself. If Jimin said all he wanted to do today was this, Namjoon would be happy. Hell, if Jimin told him to sit on the other side of the room and stare at him in silence, he’d still be happy. But with every inch of Jimin underneath him, and his hands sliding down Jimin’s bare skin, he wants to fuck him. He loves him, he misses him, and he wants to fuck him because nobody in the past eight months has felt 1% of how good this feels right now. He doesn’t mean to compare anyone to Jimin or put Jimin on some sort of pedestal, but he can’t help it, can’t help but think that no one has ever made him feel on fire the way Jimin does.
He can’t remember a time he’s ever gotten so hard so quickly, but he doesn’t do anything about it yet. He won’t be the first one to break the dam.
He lets Jimin do that for him. He was always the impatient one, anyway. The broken knob of the bedroom door is a testament to that.
Jimin’s nails shift from lightly dragging to digging in as he starts to seek friction for his own erection, and he gasps into Namjoon’s mouth when Joon trails a finger down his stomach to unbutton his jeans. “Please -”
“You don’t have to ask, Mini.” Namjoon sits back on his heels, slipping his fingertips underneath the band of Jimin’s underwear, waiting for an okay that Jimin eagerly - if nervously - gives, and begins helping Jimin out of the rest of his clothes. “God…” He shakes just a little, hoping Jimin doesn’t notice, as he begins barely skating his hand across Jimin’s skin, pausing at his thighs to trace the stretchmarks that had kept him company in the past when he spent so long between Jimin’s legs. “I missed your body so much, baby.”
It takes him too long to notice the lack of response, already kissing his way up the inside of Jimin’s thighs, but when he gets to the crux where thigh meets hair, he sits up quickly in shock. Jimin’s maybe half hard now, and one look at his face tells Namjoon he’s not totally okay.
“Fuck, what happened? What did I do?”
“It’s fine, just - just keep going.”
“Are you kidding me? How the fuck am I supposed to keep going if you don’t even wanna be here? Hold on, I fucked something up and I’ll fix it just - fuck, give me a second.” He scrubs his face and lets himself at least play out the scenario in his head where he gets up and jumps out of his third story window. It makes him feel better enough to play his words back to himself, and suddenly he’s flashing back over months and years of that same look, soft disappointed smiles, I’m not an object, Joonie , that always left him reeling with embarrassment. “You’re so stupid , Mini.”
The hurt on Jimin’s face gets deeper, but Namjoon pushes on hoping to save himself. “I never loved you for your body, and that’s not what I meant, I fucking - I fucking love you , and I just - I missed having you in my hands and yeah I wanna fuck you but - I’m usually really good with words but you make my whole brain stupid. I don’t know what we’re doing right now but I’ll do whatever you want me to do, okay? If you don’t want this, we’re not doing this, and I’ll get it right. I swear to God, I’m really gonna get it fucking right this time.”
Jimin stares up at him, hands resting on his lower stomach as his chest rises and falls way too quickly. His hair is a mess, and his skin is flushed pink, little deep red spots across his neck and shoulders finally blooming from where Namjoon had tried to leave his mark, and Namjoon loves him. He’s beautiful, but more than that he’s perfect - not flawless in reality, but for Namjoon, completely complementary and perfect , and it makes him sick that Jimin could ever think he’s less than that.
“Why didn’t you ask me to come back…”
Because I’m pretty sure I drank myself into a coma for the first three weeks.
Because I saw you at a party on Tae’s Instagram and there was some guy beside you I didn’t know but you seemed really cozy.
Because you were unhappy and then you stopped being unhappy and I knew it was my fault.
“I - None of them are good enough reasons.”
“I wanted to come back. I wanted you to want me to come back, but you just -” Jimin pauses, wiping a tear with the heel of his hand.
Namjoon wants to fix this. That was his problem sometimes, suggesting solutions where Jimin only wanted a sympathetic ear, but maybe this time it would actually help. “Do you wanna know how pathetic I was?”
“Yes,” Jimin answers quickly. “Give me the most pathetic moment. Five of them actually. Boost my ego.”
Namjoon smiles because it’s the most like himself Jimin’s been all day. “Only five? Can I get naked while I think? Is that still on the table?”
Jimin licks his lips and nods, pushing himself up on his elbows as he watches Namjoon unbutton his own jeans and begin pushing them off.
“Uh, the other day I thought about that time you called me an asshole in the middle of that bodega three blocks over and made me apologize even though I still don’t know what I did wrong, and I came so hard I hit my own mouth.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah, and we’re starting with the soft hits right now.”
“Keep going.” Jimin sits back and kicks his legs to push the blanket down enough that he can climb under it, completely uncaring about how vulnerable they both should feel being totally naked together for the first time in nine months, and Namjoon follows, his heart soaring even as he reveals his most embarrassing secrets.
“The follow-up to that moment is when I got super shitfaced and broke down sobbing in the middle aisle of said bodega at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday.”
“Wow,” Jimin frowns. “That is pathetic.”
“Ouch.” He lays on his side, propping the side of his head up in his hand. Would it be too much to reach out and touch Jimin, he wonders. He flexes his fingers and watches the way Jimin’s eyes shift as they scan his face. “Um. Another one.” There’s so many similar instances to choose from, parts where he tried to destroy himself time after time, but he doesn’t want to guilt Jimin, so he tries to throw variety in there. “Look - you found me attractive at one time. Please don’t… please don’t let this affect that.”
Jimin raises an eyebrow.
“I - I worked a whole lot, right? While you… were gone. And there was this song, the one I ended up selling the first time, actually. And -” Namjoon rethinks the telling of this story because the reason Jimin left him was because he overworked himself to the point of neglecting others, but there’s a point to this. “And, again, please remember you were attracted to me at one point in time. Like even as recently as five minutes ago. Anyway, it was so close to done, like I was like right there, but I really had to pee.”
“Like really had to.”
“Joon, you didn’t.”
“If you’re asking if I didn’t make it in time, the answer is unfortunately yes.”
“You - “
“Oh my God .” Jimin covers his mouth with one hand, but it’s totally fine with Namjoon, he honestly couldn’t be closer to God himself with the way Jimin laughs, rolling on his back and pulling his knees in. “Joon, you literally pissed yourself.”
“Yeah. Thank you, I was there. I know. It was fucking embarrassing. I was in the goddamn studio.” He waits until Jimin settles down and faces him again to tell him the point of that story, the only good thing that could come from Yoongi tearing him a brand new asshole as soon as he found out. “I realized I needed to chill the fuck out then. I - I finish work at a kinda normal time. I don’t always come home because -” because I can’t stand it here without you , “because… it’s hard. But I wanted to be better. I wanted to be able to cut myself off and just… go home.”
All the mirth has dropped from Jimin’s face, and he stares intently back. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again, swallowing for a moment before sliding his hand across the sheet to touch Namjoon’s chest, then his neck, then his cheek, each touch feeling like Jimin’s stomping on ice, threatening to break him open.
“Um…” He loses track of his own mind. “Should I keep going?”
“Please don’t.” Jimin shuts him up with a kiss, and Namjoon sighs when God finally allows them skin on skin contact. It should be a slow build, but they pick up almost immediately where they’d left off before Namjoon’s fuck-up, with Namjoon rolling partially on top of Jimin and tangling their legs together. “I’m learning French so I could throw it in your face,” Jimin manages between kissing and gasping as Namjoon’s hand slides up the back of Jimin’s thigh.
“Y’know, I actually kinda figured.” Namjoon pushes Jimin’s thighs apart as he situates himself in between them, wrapping his hand around both of their half-hard cocks and stroking them together.
Jimin grips the sheets around him, hips lifting off in time with Namjoon’s slow, easy motions, and he groans. “The bodega - the owner, he’s French Arabic, and - I mispronounced something, and you guys both laughed at me because I guess it was the word fuck in French.”
Namjoon remembers now, how cute it’d been when the confusion on Jimin’s face as he tried to pronounce an ingredient had transformed into a cuss word, like a baby stumbling into it, and he couldn’t contain his laugh, even as he slapped a hand over his own mouth. The bodega owner had accidentally given away that he was eavesdropping by laughing as well. Namjoon had thought it was adorable.
Jimin had really felt stupid. Of course he had, and there was Namjoon’s dumb ass standing there laughing at him.
“You were so cute, baby,” the name falls naturally off his tongue, and Jimin moans a little louder. “I wasn’t laughing at you, you were just so fucking cute .”
“Joonie,” he gasps, “I don’t wanna cum yet.”
“I know, Mini.” He rolls his eyes when Jimin whines even more as he lets go to dig around his bedside table for a depressingly low amount of lube and a condom that he thought would expire well before another opportunity to use it. He leaves the condom on top of the table for easy access even as he slides down on his stomach. “Stop shaking, you’re okay.”
“That’s you, Joon.”
Namjoon scoffs and grips the top of Jimin’s thigh, effectively holding it in place. “That’s you , baby.”
“Okay.” He pops the lube open, coating two fingers as he gently, slowly, slides his mouth around the head of Jimin’s cock and sucks and begins pushing in with one finger easily. He doesn’t bob all that much, resisting getting him off, but giving him some sort of relief as he works his finger in. It’s so familiar, the taste on his tongue and the pressure around his fingers. He’s going from muscle memory, he’s going from pure hunger for it when he goes from one finger to two, pushing his fingers as far apart as they’ll go to relax Jimin enough. He sucks harder as he pulls off and uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.
He remembers month after month of being buried inside Jimin, cum sliding around him and out of Jimin, they always got so filthy , because it was just them.
But it’s been months.
And Namjoon knows. But he has to ask.
He pulls his hand out and reaches over for the condom, gripping it as he hovers over Jimin. He looks beautiful, like every fucking time he’s ever looked at him, Jimin looks beautiful. Flushed pink and catching his breath, Jimin licks his lips and Namjoon’s beginning to suspect it’s on purpose when he does that. “Jimin, have you…” He breathes for a second and traces the bump of the foil of the condom in his hand. “Were you with anyone else while we were…”
And it hurts all over again as Jimin nods, but quickly tries to soothe the ache as his hands grip Namjoon’s forearms. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” leaves Namjoon’s mouth almost immediately afterward. It’s not fine, it makes him sick and he’s mad, but Jimin’s not with them now, he’s with Namjoon , and that should be enough. It has to be enough. He’s ripping open the condom and rolling it on when Jimin asks quietly as well.
What about you?
Were you with…
And Namjoon thinks about it, the myriad of ways he tried to destroy himself, find an answer for the way his entire chest hurt every time he woke up for so long, and flashes back to smiles that weren’t as warm as Jimin’s, bodies that felt nothing like him and made Namjoon feeling nothing like the way Jimin made him feel, and how he always hated it, fucking hated himself afterward. If Namjoon were to confess something else pathetic, he would admit he could only ever cum with Jimin’s name on the tip of his tongue.
“Yeah,” he eventually answers, watching the shift on Jimin’s face, wondering angrily where Jimin thinks he has any right to be upset. Namjoon wasn’t the one who ended this, Jimin doesn’t have any room to be upset with Namjoon for this - but in the next moment it couldn’t matter less because Jimin hurts, and Namjoon’s never been weaker for anything or anyone than that look on his face and making it go away. “It doesn’t matter. None of them mattered.”
He’s not lying.
He kisses the creases in the corner of Jimin’s eyes, not surprised when Jimin turns quickly to catch his lips in a desperate kiss, one hand gripping the back of Namjoon’s neck while the other reaches between his legs to help Namjoon line up and push in.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin mutters against his lips, and Namjoon kisses him again as pushes past the resistance, slow and steady until he bottoms out and Jimin’s apology turns into a quiet moan.
Namjoon doesn’t want an apology because Jimin didn’t do anything wrong , all he’s ever wanted was a fucking time machine, and he knows what’s happening right now doesn’t erase what’s already happened, but he can pretend it does at least for as long as it takes them to cum. So he buries himself in it, in that feeling of having Jimin back underneath and around him, and he shudders as he slips his arm under Jimin’s knee to pull his leg up and open him wide.
Don’t cry over sex, loser . Namjoon keeps his eyes closed another second until he can keep it together, but it doesn’t help when Jimin’s arms and hands cling around his back as he quietly urges Namjoon to move, to fuck him, finally .
When he starts moving, Jimin responds the way he always responded, hyper sensitive and eager to touch, holding Namjoon close to him even though it made it more difficult for Namjoon to move. Sometimes - in the past - Namjoon would push him off, pin his wrists to the bed to get leverage and play with him just a little, but for now he lets Jimin cling and he revels in it.
He pushes in, rough, dragging his cock in and out and he hates the condom in his way, hates that it stops him from feeling Jimin; he knows it’s so minimal but it used to be different, they used to be different, how could they fuck anyone else when it was always supposed to be them ?
Jimin yelps when Namjoon pulls back and slams forward, again and again, until he can make Jimin say his name, just his, a high, throaty, “ Joon - fuck .”
“I missed you, Mini. I missed you.” He kisses every inch of skin he can get ahold of, his hairline, his temple, across his cheek and the bridge of his nose until he can trail down and capture his mouth again, and it’s slow with too much tongue maybe, but Jimin goes with it, softly grunting every so often as Namjoon’s hips make contact and shuffle him up the bed.
Jimin won’t let him go, if anything his arms pull tighter so Jimin can kiss deeper. Namjoon understands the sentiment, like they aren’t close enough, like there’s no way they could be as close as they both want to be now. He wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist, struggling for a moment and trying not to show it as he sits back on his heels and pulls Jimin with him.
Jimin lets out a small sound of surprise and a soft laugh as he wraps his legs around Namjoon and continues to cling, smiling against Namjoon’s mouth before diving in for another kiss. Namjoon’s thighs burn but his cock is still buried deep inside Jimin and it feels like Jimin’s everywhere around him now, hand in his hair, nails on his back, lips on his jaw, cock against his stomach, it’s exactly right, it’s perfect, he loves it, he loves Jimin and he can feel his heart shed the weight of eight months and ten days the longer Jimin steals his breath.
“Tell me you still love me?”
Namjoon pulls back only far enough to look at the desperation in Jimin’s eyes. How he could possibly think anything else doesn’t make sense to Namjoon, and the answer falls off his tongue easily. “I never stopped.”
“Tell me -” Jimin hesitates, and Namjoon uses the opportunity to readjust him, pulling him tighter on his lap. “Tell me the truth, tell me you didn’t love any of them, you said they didn’t matter, promise me none of them mattered.”
Namjoon frowns. He can’t remember the names of half of them, only traces of their bodies, but it’s not fair. “You first.”
It’s meant to be a jab at Jimin’s own history during that in-between, but Jimin doesn’t take the bait, just openly and easily admits, “They were nice but none of them were you, Joon.”
He could sob in relief, thinks himself a little less pathetic in that moment, and utterly more aroused that even away from Namjoon for so long, Jimin wanted him . Still. Always. “I love you.”
Jimin lets out a sound of desperation and shoves Namjoon back haphazardly, their legs knocking together uncomfortably in a tangled mess until Jimin slaps Namjoon on the chest and forces him to stop moving. He holds himself up on Namjoon’s chest as he reseats himself on Namjoon’s cock, taking a moment to shudder at the new angle, exhaling shakily as he adjusts his knees to get more comfortable.
He lets his head roll down and digs his fingernails into the soft skin of Namjoon’s stomach, just sitting for a moment. “Do you wanna know something pathetic, too?”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Namjoon feather traces the stretchmarks on the insides of Jimin’s thighs as he sits. He starts to smile. “But I won’t stop you.” He holds his breath, trying to stay quiet when Jimin’s thighs flex under his palms as he lifts himself and drops himself back down.
“Nobody could make me cum like you did.”
Like I do , Namjoon corrects in his mind, bucking up and knocking Jimin off balance so his hands slide back up to grip Namjoon’s shoulders instead. He holds Jimin’s hips steady and fucks up into him over and over, willing himself to push past the burn in his core and thighs because Jimin’s face is pure bliss, mouth hanging open and whines starting high and only getting higher when Namjoon’s hips make contact with the fat of Jimin’s ass.
He tries to focus, the way Jimin’s lips are parted, the way his hair bounces with Namjoon’s thrusts, the way he sounds, the way Namjoon slides in and out of him, but all of it’s too much, he can’t do enough to offset how he feels, and he wants more. He rolls them over again, smiling at the way the sheets get tangled in their legs again, and he has to pull out to throw them to the floor. Jimin drags him back quickly into another kiss before Namjoon can pull away, but once he does, he digs his fingertips into the backs of Jimin’s thighs and holds them down as he slams back in.
Jimin’s close; he can tell from the way his arms grip the blanket behind his head and cants his hips at an angle, trying to get the right amount of friction.
“Joon - Joon -”
“ Fuck , I know, Jimin.” He’s gonna cum first, he can feel it, but he tries to make it as good as he can for as long as he can. His pace is brutal, the impact audible, the squelch and slap of skin on skin, the only sound in the room except for their breathing. “I love - I missed -”
“Come on, baby, come on,” Jimin urges quietly, gripping Namjoon’s forearms where they hold him down.
He cums with short gasp, riding through the waves as it hits him, wishing to god it was inside Jimin in a sort of reclamation process. Maybe next time. This time, though, he pulls off the condom and ties it quickly, tossing it in the trash next to his desk a few feet away before sliding back down on his stomach, putting both Jimin’s legs over his back and two fingers back inside him. He moves deftly, lowering his mouth down Jimin’s cock in one swift motion, swallowing around it as he uses both fingers to massage Jimin’s prostate.
Jimin buries both hands in Namjoon’s hair and grabs it by the roots as he holds Namjoon down and his thighs shake. “Fuck, fuck , Joonie - I -”
Namjoon does his best to slip his other hand under his chin and massage Jimin’s balls in tandem with his prostate, and it’s not long before Jimin lets out a choked sound, caught somewhere between the back of his throat and the tip of his tongue, as he cums in Namjoon’s mouth.
Namjoon slides his hand up around Jimin’s shaft and milks him until Jimin’s heel digs in a little too hard the back of Namjoon’s ribcage. He smacks Jimin on the inside of the thigh, and he jumps a little, and Namjoon tries not to think about all the ways he’d taken advantage of that before. “You okay?” He asks, voice raw and low.
Jimin nods even as his eyes slip closed and his chest rises and falls. “Good.” He lets Namjoon manhandle him until his head is back at the head of the bed, and he curls onto his side, and Namjoon wonders if he even realizes he’s reverted to laying on what was always his side of the bed. Jimin had always said it was softer, which made no sense at all, but Namjoon didn’t mind. He falls back onto his side of the bed and tries to regulate his breathing.
His arm falls across the top of Jimin’s pillow naturally, he’s used to stretching out, but he inhales sharply when Jimin rolls over further, until he’s on his stomach, arms tucked in underneath himself, head propped up on Namjoon’s arm as he looks at him. “Cold.”
Namjoon immediately kicks the blanket at the foot of the bed, trying to hook it and bring it up. Jimin tries to help but only makes it worse for a moment until Namjoon lifts it high enough up that Jimin can get his heels under it and kick his legs up so Namjoon can grab it with his hand.
“A flawless team,” Jimin mutters, voice sounding tired, but eyes burning bright as Namjoon brings the blanket over both of them.
They lay there in silence for a few minutes, Namjoon with one arm behind his head, fingers tugging his roots in frustration and hoping Jimin doesn’t notice. It feels like Jimin’s watching him, but every time he looks over, Jimin’s eyes are close and his face is slack.
“Namjoon,” Jimin’s voice startles him in the quiet. “Touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“Namjoon.” Jimin opens his eyes and immediately meets Namjoon’s eyes. “Touch me, please.” He closes his eyes again and waits expectantly.
And how many times has Namjoon thought about these moments? How many times has he wondered if he’d ever get this back; it was enough to almost drive him out of his mind, but here it is again… Literally within his grasp.
The lazy Friday afternoon sun too hot on his back through the curtains, but the room too cold with the air conditioning now that they’re both spent.
Namjoon curls onto his side and follows directions. Jimin’s eyes stay closed, and he’s thankful for the lack of scrutiny because it feels hyper intimate, like he’s taking something he doesn’t deserve, when his fingertips finally land on the soft skin of Jimin’s lower back. Jimin tries to restrict his reaction, but there’s a definite gasp as Namjoon lower leg lays over Jimin’s and his fingers trace the arch of Jimin’s spine.
It’s all he does for so long he loses track of time.
He drags his nails lightly across Jimin’s skin in undetermined patterns, until the calm on Jimin’s face turns to sleep and he takes to tracing the ridges of Jimin’s body unabashedly. The way his shoulderblades protrude lightly, the smallest dimples where his waist sits the smallest before his ass begins to curve. He counts the freckles he knows so well and he greets them like they know him, too. It’s what he meant when he said he’d missed Jimin’s body. He missed everything, every flaw and characteristic, every fucking inch of Jimin was solely unique and it contained everything Jimin was and he’d never missed something more than he missed the reality of Jimin.
Namjoon’s own skin feels sticky between his legs and his hair kind of itches from being matted and sweaty, and honestly he has no idea why Jimin came home with him because he hadn’t looked that great in the day to begin with, while there Jimin lays, up on the pedestal where Namjoon had rightfully and knowingly put him.
He’s not blind, and he’s not willfully ignorant of the past. He remembers all of Jimin’s subtle manipulations, passive aggressive statements to get his way, aggressive aggressions on the occasions that Namjoon didn’t give in. Namjoon’s been pretentious , and condescending , and selfish , and a thousand other things that hurt a little more or a little less, screamed at him, sobbed at him; he knows every shade of Jimin. And he loves him.
What is wrong with you? He remembers the bodega owner asking him in his haze. He hadn’t told Jimin, but during his near black-out tantrum on the dirty floor of the snack aisle, he’d sat and cried and he still knew enough French to make out What is wrong with you?
Il me manque tellement -
Namjoon grits his jaw, sliding in closer until he can drape his arm across Jimin’s back and bury his nose in the side of Jimin’s hair. His breath is hot against Namjoon’s neck, and slightly annoying, but it doesn’t matter.
He’s changed his shampoo, and Namjoon hates it on principle alone, but he reasons he could learn to like it as Jimin shifts and gets more comfortable against him. He inhales deeply, hoping to condition himself to love it quicker, tying that smell to the feeling of Jimin’s skin sticking to Namjoon’s and the way the blanket lays soft over both of them. He swallows his smile as Jimin’s lips pucker out and he begins to drool on Namjoon’s arm.
He pushes Jimin’s hair back, listening to him sigh in his sleep as Namjoon starts dragging his nails around the expanse of skin again. He does long strokes, from the tips of Jimin’s shoulders to the base of his spine, over and over until Jimin’s sighs turn into quiet whines, and Namjoon starts letting his nails get a little lower, curving up over Jimin’s ass until the scratch of his nails turns into the light grip of his fingertips, and Jimin lets out a groan.
Namjoon chuckles. “You sure?”
“Mm… In a second.” Jimin picks his head up a little to wipe the corners of his mouth then the pool he left behind. “Sorry. It’s been a long week.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I bet you don’t.” Jimin glances back at where Namjoon’s hand is currently playing with his ass. “I feel gross.”
Namjoon huffs. “Not as gross as we could be feeling.”
Jimin elbows him in the chest and rolls over onto his back, laughing despite himself when Namjoon’s hand remains in place, sliding across Jimin’s skin as he turns and landing on his dick. He hums as Namjoon begins lazily working his soft shaft, tucking his arm behind his head as he lets his eyes slip closed again. “Shower?”
His breath catches for a second but he tries not to show it. Of all the things he’s missed, Jimin has a natural affinity for casual intimacy, one that none of his friends could ever get quite right, and he’d never put a name to it but Jimin asking so simply hit him like a revelation. “Yeah. A shower is good.”
“You’re gonna have to let go then.”
“I bet I could do it without letting go.”
“Okay, well, it’s not your dick at risk, so it’s not really up to you.” He continues to lay still, letting Namjoon get him half-hard before groaning and standing. “Come on. Shower with with me.”
Namjoon takes pleasure in watching Jimin easy, seemingly carefree, and entirely naked get towels from where he knows they’ll be and head into the bathroom without him. The shower kicks on, and Namjoon makes his way to his feet, half-expecting the bathroom to be empty, like some sort of dream evaporating in the steam, but when he pushes the door open, Jimin’s digging underneath the bathroom sink.
“Did you use my body wash?”
Namjoon blushes, shutting the door behind him. “I… might have.”
Jimin freezes, shoulders instantly slumping. “You jerked off with it. I fucking hate you,” he says without venom.
“Hey, you’re the one who left me behind.”
Jimin frowns and looks at him, and it takes Namjoon a second to realize what he said.
“It. Fuck. Sorry. You left it behind. Look, like I said, you didn’t do anything wrong, I know I sucked and -”
“Joon. Get in the shower.”
It’s too hot at first, but Namjoon grits his teeth and leans forward to turn the cold water up a little, dipping his head under the water until scalding turns to just slightly burning hot. Jimin steps in behind him, and Namjoon jumps when Jimin’s cold skin meets his back as Jimin wraps his arms around Namjoon’s sides and lays his head on Namjoon’s back.
Jimin pulls the bar of soap from Namjoon’s grasp and stands back again, and Namjoon easily steps back toward him until he’s no longer standing under the spray, and he scrubs his hair with shampoo while Jimin cleans his back. It’s quiet and comfortable, and Jimin will occasionally leave a kiss in spot he’s just cleaned until Namjoon feels entirely relaxed.
Namjoon groans. “I don’t need it.”
Jimin hums aggressively, the only person Namjoon’s ever known to do that, until Namjoon concedes and picks up the same bottle of conditioner he’s had for months. He tilts back a little further than comfortable so Jimin can reach up and condition his hair, then he lets Jimin guide him with his eyes closed until they switch spots and Namjoon stands shivering against Jimin’s back as he takes his turn.
He reaches forward and lets his fingers dance across Jimin’s sides until he’s holding onto him firmly. He risks a squeeze and catches a mouthful of shampooed hair for it. He tries to spit the taste away, but Jimin does it again to spite him. “You thought it’d be funny to try and tickle me when neither of us can open our eyes and we’re standing on slick tile? You thought that was funny, Kim Namjoon?”
Namjoon sighs, smiling as he puts on a chastised voice. “No, sir. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” It happens immediately again, and Jimin yelps, reaching behind himself blindly until his palm makes contact with the side of Namjoon’s head.
“Sorry, sorry. For real this time.”
“No, switch me.” Jimin grabs him by the wrists and they carefully maneuver until Namjoon has the relief of the hot water down his back this time. He tips backward until his hair runs clean and he can wick away the water from his face, opening his eyes for the first time in minutes and smiling immediately as he sees Jimin facing him with his own eyes scrunched shut as he works the conditioner in, twirling the front of his hair into a little curl.
Namjoon gives him a warning this time, his fingertips quick against Jimin’s shoulders, sliding up his neck until they can cup his face and lean down to kiss him.
If they were back to normal, Namjoon would say I wanna fuck you again , and Jimin would say Can I at least wash my hair first?, and Namjoon would mess with him until they either almost died or Jimin were finished. But they’re not back to normal, so Namjoon lets Jimin pull away and shuffle around one more time to finish off his own hair. He doesn’t move away when Jimin backs up against him, letting his now-clean hair rest against Namjoon’s shoulder with a sigh.
“It’s not really the same, is it?”
“Not yet, at least.”
Jimin turns to him quickly with a raised eyebrow. “Right. Not yet.”
They stand in front of the mirror a moment later, and Jimin uses his towel to violently shake his hair dry as Namjoon brushes his teeth - another thing he’d forgotten this morning and yet somehow he’d managed to get Jimin back. He wonders what god is looking out for him despite his lack of effort, and he decides to dedicate the rest of his life to that deity for the privilege of watching Jimin throw his head back as he holds the towel against his body.
“Am I allowed to tell you that you’re hot now?”
Jimin smiles. “Never stopped you before.”
“Yeah, but sometimes my mouth goes before my brain so I’m asking now.” He licks his lips to get the remaining toothpaste off and swishes water around his mouth before spitting. While he wipes the excess water away with the back of his hand, he focuses on Jimin’s near deathgrip on his towel and realizes he can physically feel the shift in the atmosphere. Or maybe he’s just getting hard. “Can I?”
“Not to be shallow,” Jimin breathes, “but please.”
Namjoon turns from the mirror to face the real thing, the real Jimin who’s barely dry, messy haired, and terrified - or excited - as Namjoon pulls the towel from his hand and uses his fingertips against his hip to guide him until his back hits the door.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Jimin lets out a breath that sounds like a half-assed laugh. “That’s it?”
“I have literally never been more attracted to someone in my fucking life than I am to you.”
“I love you and you’re beautiful and I wanna fuck you and I thought about fucking you for months.”
“Okay, that’s a little creepy.”
“It is, isn’t it.” Namjoon lets his forehead thump against the door next to Jimin’s head where they’re pressed up together. “Why is it, Mini, that any other time I can say exactly what I want to say. But then I’m trying to tell you something and suddenly I have the vocabulary of a teenage boy and no social etiquette whatsoever.”
“Your heart and dick are trying to talk over your brain, that’s why.”
Namjoon pauses. “Well... Shit. Yeah, that’s it.”
“Come on then, Joon. Why don’t you just talk to me with those instead? Show me how they really feel .”
Namjoon’s caught between a laugh and a moan when Jimin cants his hips up to roll against Namjoon’s half-hard cock. He returns the favor by grabbing Jimin’s ass and digging his fingertips in, pulling their bodies flush as he leans in to kiss him again. He lets Jimin rut against his thigh as he trails his lips across Jimin’s cheek, down the column of his neck, sucking hickeys and small bites into his skin for everyone to see. He follows the line of Jimin’s collarbone down to his chest, dipping over quickly to pull on his nipple before continuing to descend, easing himself down onto his knees as he jerks Jimin off.
“Joon…” Jimin places his hand lightly in Namjoon’s still-damp hair and gasps when Namjoon sucks the tip of his cock in, holding eye contact with him as he takes him in further and further.
Namjoon closes his eyes and just feels the weight on his tongue, that familiar salt of Jimin’s skin, as he uses one hand to meet his mouth. He loves the sounds that Jimin makes as he rolls the tip of his tongue on the underside of the head, sucking back excess spit before sliding his mouth back down again. He can feel Jimin’s thighs shake next to him, and he uses his free hand to soothe him, massaging his fingertips into the fat of Jimin’s thigh.
It’s not too sloppy, not the worst he’s gotten or given, because he’s riding the line between being desperate for it and needing it to be memorable. He was never overly skilled at giving head in particular, but he tries to put as much of himself into it so Jimin’s light grip turns into a desperate tug.
He’s not fucking his mouth, more just guiding Namjoon down further and further, holding him occasionally as Namjoon tries to regulate his breathing through his nose and swallow the spit that builds up in his mouth.
Jimin’s voice breaks halfway through saying Namjoon’s name and turns into a high whine as Namjoon slips a finger inside him easily. Namjoon frowns with his eyebrows, searching with his finger until he finds Jimin’s prostate and can begin to massage it.
“ Fuck , Namjoon.”
He’s never loved his name more than when Jimin says it.
“I need - I need to sit down, I can’t - “
Namjoon takes a little pleasure in adding a second finger and massaging him deeper until he can actually feel Jimin’s left leg slip a little and Jimin pulls sharply on his hair. He laughs even as he winces in pain.
“You wanna sit down?” Namjoon licks the sheen off his lips while Jimin tries to find his footing and nods. He stands too quickly, smacking Jimin’s hand away when he wobbles. He laughs, and Jimin’s smile in return is almost blinding when he leans up and in to kiss Namjoon again. They can’t keep their hands or mouths off each other as Namjoon manages to pull Jimin away from the door long enough to swing it open and stumble toward the bed. He spins and lands on his back, biting his lip as he situates back on a pillow. “Come on, Mini. Sit down.”
Jimin rolls his eyes and moves to straddle Namjoon’s waist, but Namjoon catches his wrist and shakes his head.
“You weren’t gone that long. Sit down. ”
“Are you really gonna be embarrassed right now?”
Jimin’s caught between a blush and a frown as he lets Namjoon tug him onto the bed onto his knees and makes him shuffle closer.
“I’ve seen you at your worse, Mini, come on.”
“No one’s seen me at my worse except my mama,” he pouts.
Namjoon sits up quickly, resting his weight on one hand as he crowds Jimin’s space. “You think that’s true?” He remembers illnesses and hangovers and fights that stripped them to the core even if only momentarily, the particular way Jimin hates his coworkers, the quiet way he hates himself sometimes, and Namjoon doesn’t think there’s any part of Jimin he doesn’t know. There’s not much left to hide, but then again, he could be wrong. “Is that true?”
Jimin slides one hand up the side of Namjoon’s neck, letting his thumb rub the side of his jaw. He eventually answers with a shake of his head before he leaning in to kiss Namjoon again. It’s softer than every kiss before it, and he doesn’t want it to end, but a moment later, Jimin’s guiding him down by the shoulders and grinning. As shy as he seemed before, he shows no hesitation in swinging a leg over Namjoons head and straddling him, positioning his ass just above Namjoon’s face.
“My favorite view.” Namjoon recoils with a laugh when Jimin’s tiny fist makes playful contact with his stomach.
“Shut up.” He wraps his hand around Namjoon’s cock to reinforce his statement, and bucks when Namjoon spreads him wide to run the flat of his tongue over Jimin’s hole with no ceremony. “Joon!”
“Sorry.” He’s not, and he makes up for his non-apology by diving back in again, curling his tongue and darting inside, flexing it up and down as Jimin shakes above him. He tries to pull Jimin further down, to really ride his face, but Jimin resists, instead leaning over and surprising Namjoon with the warmth of his mouth. It’s fast and desperate and Namjoon tries to work out his frustration at the inability to touch Jimin’s hair or see his face by sucking on the rim and getting messy .
Jimin moans around his cock, rocking back against his mouth, and Namjoon wants to wipe his chin because it’s beginning to drip down the slope of chin with how wet it is, but Jimin won’t stop and Namjoon wouldn’t dare. Instead he improvises, pulling away from the hole itself to bite quickly and playfully at the fat of Jimin’s ass, surreptitiously wiping his chin along the way so he can dive back in.
It’s disgusting, it’s almost like making out, his tongue lapping in broad strokes, followed by rapid calculated thrusts of his tongue fucking in and out. He takes a risk and rubs his hand over the right side of Jimin’s ass softly before lifting it and bringing it down sharply.
It pays off with the way Jimin gasps and chokes on his cock, and he pulls off momentarily to breathe, working his hand fast on Namjoon’s shaft in his absence. He fucks back against Namjoon’s tongue and whines, digging the nails of his left hand just below Namjoon’s hip bone as he tries to stay upright. Namjoon doesn’t want him to hold onto his resolve, he wants Jimin to give in and lose his composure, so he grunts in annoyance, gripping Jimin’s thighs way too tight and pulling him down hard to fully seat himself on Namjoon’s mouth.
His nose hurts a little from how hard it’s pressed against Jimin’s tailbone but he couldn’t give a shit less because Jimin’s riding his mouth without restraint, his thighs flexing underneath Namjoon’s fingertips.
“Namjoon - please -” He tries to reach forward to take Namjoon’s cock back in hand, but Namjoon holds him in place, his hole getting so loose and slick as his tongue works in and out. “Joonie, please . I wanna ride you, please. How many times are you gonna make me ask?”
He wonders if Jimin can feel his smile against his skin. Jimin catches him off guard by twisting Namjoon’s nipples, and it’s never been as pleasurable for him as it was for Jimin, so he yelps and loses his stronghold on Jimin’s thighs enough for him to get free and shuffle down. He picks one leg up and gingerly swings it around so he can straddle in the other direction. Namjoon gets his thoughts together enough to grab Jimin before he can seat himself. “Don’t. We need a condom.”
Jimin huffs. “It didn’t feel the same, I don’t want one.”
“Jimin, we - you know why we can’t.” He doesn’t let go to reach for a condom just yet because he knows how impetuous Jimin is.
“Joonie, it’s okay. I trust you.” He says it with a smile, like he knows he’ll get his way, but all it does is turn Namjoon’s stomach.
“We can’t, okay, we can’t . I wasn’t - I don’t remember everything, I don’t know if I used a condom or not sometimes, I’m not gonna do that to you, okay? I’m not gonna fuck this up, when we get tested, we can do it without I promise. I promise.” Nothing made him sicker than watching the way Jimin’s face contorted as he continued to speak. It starts at one fear and morphs quickly into another, in perfect time with the way that Jimin’s face starts with utter heartbreak into bottom-lip-shaking levels of rage.
Jimin rips his wrist out of Namjoon’s grasp, and Namjoon braces himself. “Well, I’m glad you were able to fuck away your sorrow in my absence, Namjoon. I’m happy that you were able to overcome your self-proclaimed tragic misery in order to get hard enough to fuck total strangers.”
“That’s not how it was and you fucking know it. Stop,” Namjoon grabs Jimin’s waist as he tries to get away.
“Let go of me or I’ll break your dick and you know it.”
Namjoon frowns and releases him, but follows him into standing. “I’m not the only one who fucked other people, that’s not fair. Why am I being punished for something we both did? You ended the relationship!”
“No, you ended the relationship, I just put a name on it. I was home, alone, all the time, and I missed you, so much, I shouldn’t have come back, this was stupid.”
Namjoon knows the sound of Jimin crying, and he tries to put on his sweatpants quicker than Jimin can pull on his jeans and pull his shirt on. “Slow down, Mini, hold on. Fuck, stop! Stop ! I’m not letting you leave again, not this time.” He darts forward to close the bedroom door before Jimin can storm out of it.
“Let me leave.”
“In a second. You have to hear me out first because it’s not fair.”
“ You’re not fair! I missed you! I missed you and the whole time I was gone all you did was drink and fuck and work! Sounds like the perfect fucking life for you,” he screams, completely uncaring about the tears that stream down his face as he wraps his arms around himself.
“ You broke up with me . I know it’s my fault, and fuck you, I did miss you, I do miss you, I love you, and I don’t remember anyone because I was shitfaced and lonely and all I could think about was you, and how I missed everything about you, even this bullshit you pull. What was I supposed to do? You were happy without me, so I let you be happy, and now I’m getting punished for that, too? I’m sure everyone you fucked after me was a fine clean-cut gentleman with a nice job and a huge dick, and you put on your sweet face and had a good time, perfectly content without me, but you know that no one out there loves you as much I do. I was really fucking shitty at showing it, and my self-destructive shit isn’t exactly helping right now either, cuz I can promise you the fact that I could stick my dick in anybody else had nothing to do with them and everything to do with the fact that I missed you so much I wanted to blow my brains out and I had no idea how to handle that because no one could understand.”
If he’s hoping for sympathy by the end, Jimin doesn’t give it to him. “Happy? I wasn’t happy , you asshole! I wanted you! I only ever wanted you, and I broke up hoping that if I couldn’t make you love me, I could find someone to love me the way I loved you. Yeah, they were all really nice and simple with huge dicks, as a matter of fact, and I had a great time. It was really nice for me to text someone, Dinner? And they reply I’d love to! instead of my dumb ass sitting at home watching Netflix and eating Lean Cuisine. I don’t even like Lean Cuisine!”
Namjoon bites the inside of his lip not to laugh in the middle of Jimin’s rant.
“I missed you so much, don’t act like you’re the only person who’s ever had their heart broken, that no one understands how much your life fucking sucked when mine was the exact same way. You’re so conceited, you don’t hold the market on hating yourself Namjoon .”
“No, you definitely seem like you have some major shares on the hating Namjoon market.”
“Climb off your cross, Joonie, you know I don’t hate you, I just fucking… I hate everyone who got to have you while I didn’t, and I hate that they know what you feel like when I got stuck with memories and fantasies that only made me cry at the end, and I hate that you could do it so easily when everyone who touched me made me feel like I was cheating still and I changed my mind, I do hate you, I hate you, you’re such an asshole !” Jimin stomps his foot on the hardwood floor and Namjoon’s heart clenches because he doesn’t think it’s true, but it fucking hurts nonetheless.
“I told you, they didn’t mean anything, I honestly feel fuckin’ bad for them, too, because if they knew how very little I gave a shit about them - and I told you, I told you, I just want…. to wear a fucking condom because I wanna keep you safe, but somehow I’m the bad guy for that? I’m sorry, I would’ve - I don’t know, waited or pursued you or done whatever you wanted me to do if I knew how fucked up everything would’ve been.”
“I told you, over and over, that we were falling apart but you didn’t listen.”
“Because I’m fucking stupid! I’m - I’m fucking stupid, I’m sorry, and I’ll be better this time, I can physically fucking promise you that I won’t fuck it up this time.”
“What do you mean this time , who said we’re getting back together?”
Namjoon freezes like he’s been punched in the stomach and every bit of fight he had in him evaporates. “What do you mean?”
Jimin clenches his jaw and crosses his arm.
“Baby… What do you mean? I thought…”
“I don’t know, Joon. I don’t know.”
“Don’t do this to me. You can’t come back and give me this and leave again, that’s fucking - if you were gonna do this to me, you should’ve just stayed gone because I can’t - Jimin, what the fuck, were you playing me? Are you still playing me right now? Did you hear about how sad and pathetic I’d become and you thought it’d be satisfying to punish me for being a shitty boyfriend? I’m sorry, holy shit, I’m sorry .”
Jimin’s shaking now, silently crying as he flexes his fists. “ Fuck you. Do you think that’s who I am? That I would do that to you? I love you, and I can’t fucking stand you. I ripped my heart out to leave you and I left it in that bed, our bed, and you ask me that. I thought you were smart, Joonie. I thought you knew me, and loved me.”
“I fucking do know you, and I do love you, or I wouldn’t be standing here taking every single hit on the chin. You just fucking said -”
“I said I don’t know! I don’t know! I have no fucking clue what I’m supposed to do in this situation, I was supposed to be better without you.”
“And were you?”
“No!” Jimin shouts, and it reverberates in the small room, the only sound except for their breathing which suddenly feels way too loud. He says it defiantly, as if he’s still angry at Namjoon for it, blaming him for his inability to move on, and it’s probably not the right reaction, but Namjoon takes a small victory in it. He makes a face and throws up his hands, screaming, “ Well ?”
“Well, what ?” Namjoon responds, just as loud and just as angry.
Jimin scoffs and shakes his head. He reaches down to grab his socks and shoes before heading toward the door and throwing it open. “You’re the one who said it hasn’t been that long, but you’re so clueless.”
“What do you want from me?” Namjoon stands, gripping his bedroom door and wracking his brain for whatever hoop Jimin wants him to jump through, like a puzzle to solve before Jimin makes it to the front door. “Oh.” Now he remembers. “ Oh !” He darts forward, catching Jimin around the waist from behind in the living room. It’s easy enough to carry him back to the bedroom as he grips Namjoon’s forearms and lets his feet dangle, all the way until he’s tossing Jimin onto the bed with a bounce.
Jimin scrambles onto his back, a scowl on his face as he sits up on his elbows. “Took you long enough.”
“Shut up, that was the worst time to play your little mind games.”
“I’m angry , Namjoon.”
“No shit, me too.”
“Then do something about it.” Jimin yelps as Namjoon grabs his ankles and drags him to the edge of the bed. It’s not the healthiest way to solve their problems, but sometimes, in the past, when things got loud and things got heavy, Namjoon had learned that Jimin had… a specific response to particularly intense arguments, and it usually ended with Jimin pinned against a wall with his legs around Namjoon’s waist.
He works his fingers quickly at Jimin’s zipper, pulling the denim off roughly over his thighs and off his legs. He hadn’t bothered to put his underwear on underneath, and Namjoon thinks about how, if he’d really left, they’d still be on his floor long after. It makes him feral, the idea of having pieces of Jimin when he wants the whole thing. All of him. So he pries Jimin’s legs apart just because Jimin likes the strength of it, and situates himself between them so he can pull Jimin’s shirt off.
Jimin stares at him in challenge, and Namjoon sighs, playing his part as he grabs Jimin’s arm and rolls him onto his stomach. He pulls Jimin up onto his hands and knees, sticks two fingers in his mouth and pulls them out wet, pushing them inside Jimin to see if he’s still relaxed. He fucks with his prostate for a moment just to see Jimin’s elbows buckle before he reaches forward to get a condom.
He shouldn’t be surprised when Jimin reaches forward just a little quicker and angrily smacks the box of condoms to the floor, sending them flying. He turns to look at Namjoon, and his face is suddenly a lot less fun and a lot more serious, and Namjoon frowns as stands and bends down to grab a condom off the floor. He holds it in his left hand as he turns around. He pushes the band of his sweatpants under his balls and uses his right hand to jerk himself off as he steps toward Jimin’s face.
“Get me hard, Mini.”
“Why, you don’t have someone else to help with that?”
Namjoon grits his jaw and shakes his head, pulling the sweatpants back up. “It’s not cute, and it fucking hurts.” He doesn’t know where he’s going when he heads for the bedroom door but it doesn’t matter because Jimin doesn’t let him get there.
“I’m sorry, Joonie, I’m sorry,” Jimin throws himself in front of the door, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s chest to get him to stop moving, and Namjoon lets himself be walked backward slowly toward the bed.
“I only wanted you, the whole fucking time, do you understand?”
“Prove it?” He asks like he’s unsure of Namjoon’s response, but it’s all Namjoon’s wanted to do today, so he does. He wraps his hands around the back of Jimin’s thighs and pulls him up until Jimin’s hooking his ankles behind Namjoon’s back. Namjoon’s not spectacularly strong but he’s strong enough to hold Jimin up for a moment as Jimin grips his face and kisses him, stretching his jaw wide and rolling his tongue against Namjoon’s.
He digs his fingernails in, hoping to leave little crescents on the back of Jimin’s ass that sting when he sits or when he showers.
Jimin lands back on the bed stretched out and almost fully hard, on display as he looks up at Namjoon. Namjoon doesn’t have much time to enjoy the view because Jimin quickly rolls over and gets on his hands and knees again, as if he doesn’t want to cause trouble again. The challenge of prove it echoes through Namjoon’s mind.
He gets on his knees behind Jimin and he does, he really does wanna fuck him like this, loves how dirty they get like this, but it doesn’t feel right. What feels right is when he slips the condom on and slicks himself up a little, shoves Jimin onto his side on the mattress, and lifts one of Jimin’s legs onto his shoulder as he straddles the other.
“I love you.” He punctuates his statement by placing the head of his cock against Jimin’s asshole and pushing in all at once. He pulls out slowly once, letting Jimin get used to being full again, and pushes back in until the skin gives more easily around him. The slide is smoother, and he lets himself go, draping himself fully over Jimin’s body, bending his leg at what must be an uncomfortable angle, but Jimin doesn’t say anything about it. The only sounds he makes are small sobs as he wraps his arms around Namjoon’s arm and holds on.
Can you feel it , he wonders, he tries to vocalize but he can’t manage it. He wonders if it’s enough, the weight of Namjoon’s cock inside him, the stretch, the pace, the burn, he wonders if the way his hand slips on the sheet and curls over Jimin’s hand, if the way he kisses the leg propped up on his shoulder, if his repeated I love you ’s and I missed you ’s, if the heavy smack of his hips against Jimin’s ass, if any of it matters, if anything he’s doing carries enough weight.
“Harder, Joonie,” Jimin gasps as he gets shuffled up the bed with every thrust.
“Jimin…” He takes a moment to breathe. “It already sounds like it hurts.” The slaps of skin on skin had turned into more of a thud of bone against meat.
“It does. Harder.”
Namjoon doesn’t feel so bad about it when he lets Jimin’s leg drop from his shoulder to his mattress and places a hand on the smooth skin between Jimin’s shoulderblades to push him down. He uses his knees to push Jimin’s legs further out so he can really fuck into him, holding him by the hips to pull him back at the same time he pushes in, and the whining, crying sounds Jimin makes could tide him over for years if this is the last chance he ever gets.
He vaguely makes out Jimin’s muffled swearing as he clutches the pillow under his head, and Namjoon wants to ask him is it enough? Can you tell I love you?
Jimin answers yes to the question Namjoon didn’t realize he’d vocalized, and he can’t help but gasp, dragging his nails up Jimin’s back and the length of his arms until Jimin unfolds them from underneath his head and Namjoon can interlock their fingers, pinning him to the bed. It’s harder to thrust like this, more of a roll than anything, but Namjoon buries his nose in the back of Jimin’s hair, kisses across his open skin and mussed hair.
“God yes,” Jimin manages. He rolls his head to the side and tries his damnedest to kiss Namjoon but the angle’s all wrong and he gets frustrated, squeezing Namjoon’s fingers in his. “ Please , baby.”
Namjoon helps him, pulling him up onto his knees with his back against Namjoon’s chest as they just breathe for a second. Namjoon grabs his jaw gently and turns it until he can at least place their lips together - a minor distraction for when Namjoon wraps his hand around Jimin’s cock and begins pumping.
“I want you to listen to me, Mini.” His hand still moves, sliding easy with precum. He pulls Jimin’s earlobe with his teeth, tracing the shell of it with his fat bottom lip. “You listening, baby?”
Jimin nods, pushing back on Namjoon’s cock and forward into his grip.
“No one’s ever been in this bed, Jimin. I never brought anyone home. Do you understand? It’s only ever been our bed.” The fingers of his other hand dance up to wrap gently around the front of Jimin’s neck. “So why don’t you cum all over our bed, baby?”
He does, clenching around Namjoon’s cock as his own spasms in the palm of Namjoon’s hand, cum landing on the pillow and sheets beneath him before it drips and dribbles all over Namjoon’s hand and his own thighs. Namjoon lowers him into a clean spot, rolling Jimin onto his back as he catches his breath.
He pulls the condom off and puts his knees on either side of Jimin’s chest, straddling him as he jerks off quickly. “Can I?”
“Open your mouth?”
He does. Namjoon shuffles a little closer and Jimin lazily picks his head up, putting another pillow underneath so he can lay comfortably with the head of Namjoon’s cock on the tip of his tongue. He runs the palms of his hands up and down Namjoon’s thighs as he patiently waits, but he doesn’t have to wait long.
Namjoon can feel it building, and he bucks into his own fist a few times before it hits, and he watches stream after stream land on Jimin’s closed eyes, his cheeks, his mouth, god, his mouth, covered in thick and off-white and glistening with Namjoon’s cum. He groans when Jimin’s lips close around the tip and gently suck, getting the last of it, essentially suckling until Namjoon’s cock begins to soften and slip just out of reach for Jimin.
He should clean Jimin off, but first he slides back a little until he can run the pad of his thumb over Jimin’s lip and swipe away the cum left there before bending down to kiss him softly, just lips on lips, and then he does it again.
Once he has Jimin’s face cleaned off, he pulls his sweatpants and a t-shirt on, handing Jimin an extra, just as shabby, pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt that’s far too big. They’d wasted the day away after the bookshop and the bare minimum courage that Namjoon can muster to ask will you spend the night is to hand him pajamas instead of his jeans.
Jimin takes them anyway.
“Yeah? You wanna go out?”
Jimin ponders. “Order take-out?”
“Yeah we can do that. What do you want?
“I’ll get it. Any objections to wings?”
“God, no. That sounds amazing right now.”
Jimin stands, rifling around his jeans for his phone, abandoned for hours on the floor. He pulls it out and Namjoon watches the way he frowns slightly.
“Mm. Nothing I can’t deal with.” The frown’s gone quickly as he brings up the website for delivery and enters the order. It’s easy enough over the next twenty, thirty minutes, to breeze around the kitchen in companionable quiet, soft conversation. They don’t ask about the last eight months again, they talk about movies and music - anything except Namjoon’s songs - and (despite their efforts not to) how terrible it had been for Jimin living with his best friend, Taehyung.
What he doesn’t say is that he missed living with Namjoon, but Namjoon still smiles while his back is turned to Jimin as he looks for anything good to drink in the fridge.
Jimin’s phone rings and Namjoon turns. “Probably just the delivery guy can’t get in the building,” but Jimin’s frowning again and nodding.
“Yeah, probably. I’m gonna - be back. Hold on.” He answers the phone but doesn’t say anything until he’s stepped out of the apartment.
Namjoon’s not usually nosy, but Jimin’s not usually secretive, so if he finds himself creeping up to the closed front door and carefully straining his hearing, he doesn’t chastise himself too badly for it.
I’ve just been busy today.
I’m sorry if you felt ignored, but -
I should probably tell you anyway, but I don’t think this is gonna work out to be honest. I’m really really sorry.
Well it’s good to hear you’re taking this like an adult, he says sarcastically.
Namjoon turns quickly and stares at the door like he can faintly see the outline of Jimin clutching the phone, tense and annoyed. He was seeing someone. He was seeing someone and he came back with Namjoon. He turns quickly, taking giant steps to get back into the kitchen as Jimin opens the front door and steps back inside.
“Got the food, baby?” He tries not to seem as smug as he feels.
“It wasn’t them. Oh, actually hold on this might be them. Hello?” He turns to hit the buzzer and lets the delivery man in with way too many wings for simply two men, but Namjoon knows they’ll at least mostly make it through them. Jimin sits on a kitchen chair, knees pulled up to his chest as he reaches for a large styrofoam container.
Namjoon sits in awe as Jimin inhales meat off bone, wing after wing, until he realizes Namjoon is watching him.
“Watching you suck that meat with such efficiency is oddly sensual.”
“Shut up. I hate you.”
“Do you?” Namjoon thinks about Jimin’s face in the bookshop, the way they stumbled through the house, his shampoo in Namjoon’s mouth, Jimin’s body on top, beneath, all around him. He thinks about the random asshole on the phone and how Jimin sits across from Namjoon instead, fucked out and hungry.
Jimin looks back, mindlessly sucking the sauce off his thumb. “No.”
Namjoon licks his lips and opens the container in front of him before asking what he’s been curious about all day.
“So. What now?”