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Join The Club

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Namjoon stared blankly into the side of Seokjin’s face. His attention was held by the book in his thin hands. His fingers looked crooked, as they always did. It was one of the things Namjoon adored about his roommate. Don’t get him wrong; Seokjin was breathtakingly handsome, and Namjoon is sure that is part of his attraction towards the older man. However, it was the little things that drew the dongsaeng to Seokjin.

They started out as roommates over a year ago. Namjoon was alone in the city of Seoul, and Seokjin was simply lonely.

Seokjin worked as head chef at a fancy restaurant, meaning he made good money. He lived in an upscale apartment, several stories above the bustling streets. He lived alone, which grew to be boring. There was no one to lounge around with and just be himself with. He sent out an ad in search of a roommate.

He ended up with Kim Namjoon, a bright music producer that needed new headphones quite often. He produced for underground rappers and little-known idol groups. He hadn’t made it big enough to produce for the more popular groups like Big Bang or Super Junior. However, it was his dream.

The two were nearly opposites of each other. Namjoon was clumsy and sometimes immature, while Seokjin, being older, was inherently calmer and more collected. Namjoon often spent days at a time at his studio, exhausted and starving, trying to perfect his next track. Some days, Seokjin would bring a styrofoam box filled with leftovers, either from the restaurant or from their apartment, to the overworked producer. Namjoon didn’t care for himself properly, and Seokjin stepped up to make sure he was eating and staying hydrated during his bouts of creativity.

This is where the affection starts.

In Namjoon’s eyes, Seokjin was a wonderful man. Caring, compassionate about his craft and those around him, a brilliant chef, and an all-around good person. How could Namjoon not be attracted to him?


Namjoon sat still, mesmerized by the side of Seokjin’s face. He was almost… perfect. It was a privilege to be able to look at his face as he sat next to him on quiet days like today.

Without warning, Seokjin looked over. Namjoon quickly cast his glance towards the TV playing quietly in front of them. His face flushed crimson and tried not to smile.

Namjoon thought about what to do next. He had just been caught staring by the man of his affections. The thinking didn’t last long.

“What if I told you I loved you?” He blurted, instantly regretting his words.

Without hesitating, Seokjin responded. “I would tell you to join the club.”

Namjoon blinked dumbly. He huffed quietly and stood up. He didn’t mean to say it in the first place, but “join the club” certainly wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for. Then again, what did he expect? For Seokjin to jump into his arms and marry him on the spot? He doesn’t even love him, right?

With arms straight at his sides, Namjoon walked to his room. What he didn’t see was Seokjin lifting his eyes up from his book to stare at the younger roommate.


“Joonie!” Seokjin called from the kitchen. When Namjoon didn’t respond, Seokjin rolled his eyes and wandered off in the direction of his roommate’s room, spatula in hand. With a sharp rap on the wooden door, he called out once more. “Namjoon! I made omelets!”

In the room, Namjoon threw his arm over his face, dreading the upcoming interaction with the man of his dreams. Maybe he was just over-reacting. Seokjin could be a bit self-centered at times, and maybe thought nothing of the producer’s confession.

Maybe his reaction made sense; Seokjin was a loved man. A very loved man. An attractive, renowned chef with the plating abilities of a god. What’s not to love?

Namjoon sighed; he was in over his head. Crushing on someone who probably isn’t even gay. For now, he needs to get up and eat Seokjin’s delicious omelet.

With effort, Namjoon kicked his blankets off and sat up. He swung his legs over the side of his bed slowly and placed his bare feet on the wood of the floor. He winced at the cold; he needed slippers. He shuffled over to his drawer set and tugged at the old handle. It came loose and he pulled a pair of socks out and slipped them on his feet. He frowned briefly before wiping the sour expression off of his face and replacing it with something similar to a smile.

“I’m up,” He shouted into the other room. With this, Seokjin was satisfied and retreated. He resumed his position at the stove, cooking the omelets.

The door to Namjoon’s room opened, and out came the sleepy man. His feet never left the floor as he lumbered into the kitchen, eyes still partially closed from being so tired. The smell of cooking eggs delighted him, awakening his senses.

“I thought you’d never wake up,” Seokjin stated from the kitchen. He continued to ramble: “I don’t know if you like chives but I garnish with them all the time in the kitchen and the clientele positively eat it up! So I figured I’d serve it to you as well.” Another thing about Seokjin: he loves to hear himself talk. Yet another thing is that he has an extensive vocabulary, especially when it comes to his job. He would toss expensive sounding words in the air as if it were nothing, leaving Namjoon floundering. It’s cute.

Donning a dorky apron, Seokjin set two plates on the table in front of the still standing Namjoon. He pulled the chair out for himself, not looking at his roommate, and sat down. He had begun to eat before Seokjin even had the chance to sit down.

“Hungry hungry boy.” He commented. Namjoon snorted quietly and continued to eat, hunched over his plate slightly. Finally, Seokjin sat himself down and picked up his fork just as Namjoon finished.

Abruptly, he stood. “I have a busy day today.” Seokjin looked up from his breakfast and blinked. Namjoon walked, almost robotically, to his room and shut the door.

“Have a nice day,” Seokjin grumbled before returning to his meal.


Namjoon sat in his chair and spun slowly. “Hoseok, I don’t know what to do.”

The older man, perched on the small couch in the producer’s office, scratched at his head. The two had been working at the same label, Connect Entertainment, for about four years; it was a miracle the company had stayed open for so long and had introduced a new solo artist in the past month. In addition to Jeon Siyeon, the solo, the company had one boy group, Violet. They mainly did badass concepts, which Namjoon loved to produce. Siyeon, however, was softer in concept and was seen as a sweet angel in her songs. Namjoon loved her voice, but he wasn’t the best at producing cute tracks.

After ensuring his scalp no longer itched, Hoseok responded. “Are you talking about Violet’s new track? ‘Cause I’m not expert but if you-”

“No not that, Seok,” Namjoon interrupted him. “I’m talking about my roommate, the chef.” Hoseok mused silently. “Seokjin.” He said his name like it burned his tongue. In a good way. “He’s way out of my league, and there’s no way he would actually ever like me!”

“Calm down, Namjoon-ah. I’m sure you can work something out. You can always stay with me if things get awkward.” Hoseok said thoughtfully. He was always kind, always cheery and encouraging. He worked well with the members of Violet as a dance instructor. The member that was the least strong in dance, who was also the leader and main rapper, has improved vastly since he began training five years ago.

“Thanks, Hoseok.” Namjoon sighed. “I still need to finish Violet’s track. What sounds better? Du-du-TA or Du-du-DA?”

Hoseok sat and pondered the question before finally deciding on an answer. “I don’t hear a difference.”

“Ta has a more metallic sound, like a cymbal, and Da sounds deeper.” Namjoon tried explaining his thought process to the dance teacher.

Hoseok shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll sound great either way.” He reasoned.

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Thanks, hyung.”

A younger man poked his head into the room. “Hoseok-hyung?” He asked nervously.

The two already in the room turned to look at him. “Minjun!” Hoseok shouted at the main rapper of the group. Behind the tough exterior he showcased on stage, Minjun was shy, and attention made him nervous. His fans called him cute, which did nothing but fluster him further.

“Are we going to start practice soon?” He questioned, toeing at the ground.

“Oh! That’s right!” Hoseok crowed. “Things will work themselves out soon!” Hoseok cried as he ushered the youngest of the three out.

“Wait!” Namjoon called. “Practice?” He sounded panicked. “I haven’t finished the track yet!”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just to keep their joints loose or whatever. Manager’s orders.” Hoseok responded nonchalantly.

“Always a pleasure, Namjoon-hyung,” Minjun spoke over his shoulder as the dancer pushed him eagerly towards the practice room. Namjoon shook his head and smiled at the elder’s excitement.

Remembering his conundrum, he groaned and fell back into his chair. This really was going to be a long day.


It was past two in the morning by the time Namjoon was unlocking the front door to his and Seokjin’s apartment. He stumbled into the front room, hungry and tired. He shifted his bag from his left to his right, then set it on the floor. He hoped Seokjin was asleep and would stay that way.

On the kitchen island sat a blob of unidentified pink. Namjoon walked closer; it was a post-it note.

“Check the fridge Joonie” it read, with a small heart drawn in the bottom corner of the note.

In the fridge was a box with another pink sticky note.

“Dinner for u” read this note. This time Seokjin had drawn a winking face by his letters.

Namjoon smiled as he pulled the box from the fridge. He felt himself slip deeper into his affectionate hole for his roommate.

Maybe he was in love.