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i like the way you turn me inside and out

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Yoongi’s late for class, like he always is and always has been for all the three years he’s spent in college so far, so he speeds through the hallway with his bag slung on his shoulder, without paying attention to whoever he’s almost knocking to the floor in the process.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going!” is the last thing he hears before his ass is on the ground along with his folder with all the drawings he has to hand in within five minutes if he doesn’t want to fail.

Confused by the clash, he groans when he sees all his sketches spread out around him, and as he stands up to get the fuck out of there he realizes who walked right into him. 

“Why the fuck is your ass everywhere I go?” he snaps at the kid on the ground, who’s standing up too and trying to get dust off his pants.

“I don’t have time to waste, fuck you," Namjoon blurts out and takes off, not even bothering to help Yoongi with his stuff. 

“I don’t either, but now I’m gonna be late for class, so fuck you too!” 

Namjoon sticks his middle finger up in the air without looking back and Yoongi has to physically hold back a growl. The hallway has cleared out by now, so he’s glad nobody’s there to see him run around to gather his things.

Once he’s done he’s running again, now even more behind schedule, and when he gets to class he’s out of breath and barely holding it together. He apologizes to the professor, who shrugs it off, and storms to the only free seat he finds next to the window. 

“We’re all used to it by now.” 

The whole class laughs at that and Yoongi rolls his eyes as he tries to control his breathing, not bothered by what he knows to be an inside joke. The professor likes him, mostly, and he’s on good terms with the majority of the class. He can take it. 

“You good?” 

He looks up and nods at Taehyung, who’s looking at him with an expression halfway through worried and amused from the seat in front of him. 

“Yeah.” He retrieves a chewed up pencil from his bag and drops his sketchbook on the desk with as much grace as he can manage at the moment. “I crashed into Namjoon on the way here.” 

“Does he still look like a tree about to fall?” 

Yoongi barely holds back a laugh, not looking to get the professor on his ass. 

Everyone knows they can’t stand each other, even the janitors, and whenever they happen to bump into each other in public half of the people around them stop and watch. To be honest, he doesn’t even remember when the resentment started. He just knows seeing him from afar is enough to make him want to leave the building. He hates his smug face and the way he carries himself and the fact he always looks like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He only takes solace in the fact the feeling is mutual. 

“He does.” 

The professor glares at them so they both shut up. 

“I would collect your projects myself, but the room is big. Please, come leave them on my desk.”

Yoongi sighs and stands up, trailing behind Taehyung.

“My project is ass.” 

“I don’t understand why you keep taking art classes when it’s not your major,” Yoongi points out as Taehyung drops off his folder. 

“I’m bored.” 

“And you have money to waste.” He hands his work to the professor, who skims the drawings in the folder and closes it before offering him a smile. 

“Good work as always, Yoongi,” he tells him, putting the folders in alphabetical order. 

“Thank you, sir,” he replies, then following Taehyung back to their seats. 

“How’s your comic coming along?” Taehyung asks him when they get out of class, walking next to him in the hallway. 

Yoongi lets out a sigh, looking uncertain. 

“I honestly don’t know. I kind of have an idea of where I want the story to go, but I can’t figure out how to do it.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage like you always do,” Taehyung says. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else, his mind lost in thought. 

“Wanna go get coffee?” 

“Yeah, let’s go.” 




“Why do you hate him so much anyway?”

"He’s annoying, he’s built like a gummy bear, he thinks he’s the shit for doing absolutely nothing of relevance, he bleached his hair so many times it looks like hay and it's dry as shit —” 

“Okay, I get it,” Sooyoung interrupts him before his rant can go off the rails. “You can stop.” 

“And he’s always in my way,” Namjoon carries on, ignoring her. “Why do I bump into him every other day on the way to class?” 

“I don’t —”

“Because he’s always late!” he cuts her off, answering his own question while Sooyoung is left staring at him while he talks. 

“Is it that hard to set a damn alarm in the morning? Apparently it is!” 

She doesn’t say anything, rather waiting for him to let his stream of consciousness run dry like she always does. 

“I don’t even want to walk past him and he’s constantly there. Every time I have a class that starts late, he’s there. I hate people who are late.” 

His three friends keep eating, pretending to follow. 

“For someone who claims to hate him, you sure talk about him a lot.” 

“Shut your ass up, Hoseok. Go back to Australia and get killed by a spider.” 

“Is he really always like this?” Hoseok asks Jimin. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

“I’m only like this when I see that fucking idiot,” Namjoon mutters, moving around the food left in his plate with a fork. 

“The sexual tension between you two is off the rails,” Jimin states. 

“Why don’t you go fuck Hoseok instead, since you like foreign meat?” Namjoon shoots back instantly, making Hoseok choke on his water. 

“Koreans are crazy,” he says with a cough while Jimin pats his back. 

“Technically you’re Korean too, but I’m gonna call the police and deport you anyway.” 

“I’m here legally.” 

“I don’t like foreigners,” Jimin grunts.

“I’m gonna go get more soup,” Sooyoung says, standing up. When everyone ignores her, she shrugs and walks away. 

“Sophomore year.” 

“If you don’t shut up —” 

“God, I wanna go back to Melbourne.”




Yoongi erases the same sketch for the fifth time. It’s not coming out the way he wants and all it’s doing is irritate him even more. He drops the pencil and sighs, tired of redoing the same lines over and over again. 

It’s bad enough he’s stumped on the storyline, he really doesn’t need to fuck up the visuals too. That’s basically what’s happening, though, and if he doesn’t get some fresh air soon he’s going to go insane. 

“I can feel the hamster running in your brain is slowly dying all the way from here,” Seokjin exclaims from his bed without looking up from the notebook he’s scribbling in. 

“Go back to your formulas,” Yoongi mutters, frustrated. 

“I’ve never left them.” He raises his hand in the air and waves the pen he’s holding between his fingers around, then proceeds to put it on the paper again. “This redox is fascinating.” 

“I know you did not just call a mess of numbers fascinating.” 

“Maybe if you paid more attention in high school,” Seokjin starts, his expression darkening when the result isn’t what the textbook says. 

“Not this again.” Yoongi stands up from the desk and takes a deep breath. “Let’s go out? Please?” 

“This stuff isn’t working out, in case you didn’t notice,” he states, his eyes skimming over the nearly illegible writing. “I’m close to solving it. Can’t stop now.” 

“Maybe I could call Taehyung.” He picks up his phone from the desk but doesn’t unlock it. “He’s probably with Jungkook though.” 

“Hmm, yeah, do that,” Seokjin says with a nod, only half following his words while his face is still buried in the exercise. “Sodium chloride.” 

Yoongi sighs when he realizes his roommate isn’t listening to him and gives one last annoyed look at the mess on his desk. The project for the last page he did is still open on Photoshop, but the wooden surface is scattered with pencils, paper sheets full of half finished sketches, and markers, the trash can under it overflowing with paper. He’s been at it for too long, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The story isn’t working, and without it there’s no comic.

Words have always been his worst nightmare, from middle school all the way up to college. He’s just not good at it. He knows he can draw; he’d be stupid not to recognize it, and modesty isn’t one of his more well known traits. He knows it, his professors know it, and everyone knows it. He has ideas, plots and whatnot, all ready, up in his head. If only he knew how to make them real.

He always knew art was going to be his breakthrough in life. He’s still sure of it. Art is tangible, it makes sense. A picture can paint a thousand words.

He’s just unlucky it’s comics he wants to do, because nobody expects you to write captions under a portrait. What’s a comic book without a storyline, though? It’s not like he wants to end up being a colorist, or like a letterer or whatever. He wants to see his vision come to life.

Right now all he sees of it is a bunch of scrunched up failures in black ink.

“I’m gonna go get a coffee or something.”

“Oh shit, I got it!” Seokjin exclaims, writing something down excitedly. “Sorry, what?”

Yoongi holds back a sigh. Even his roommate solved his impossible equation, and he’s having trouble drawing a character he’s been working with for months.

“I said I’m going to Starbucks. Want anything?”

“I don’t support capitalism,” he says, already writing down another equation. “Aluminium phosphate. Tough bitch.”


He’s about to leave the dorm empty-handed, but then on second thought he grabs his tablet.

The café is not very crowded, which makes him feel better. There are a bunch of free tables and the queue is almost empty apart from two people, so he gets in line.

“Oh, it’s you.”

He blinks when he realizes it’s his turn to order, confused at the words thrown at him. He finds himself staring at a cheerful dorky guy with dyed hair behind the register.

“It’s me?”

"Oh yeah, sorry," he says in what sounds like an Australian accent, offering Yoongi his hand with a smile. “I’m Hoseok.”

He shakes it, confused by the situation. “Yoongi.”

“I know.”

“Who are you talking to — oh.”

A tall figure appears from behind Hoseok. When Yoongi realizes who it is, his expression immediately darkens and he can feel his mood dropping like the American stock market in the 20s, so he plays it dumb.

“Yeah, anyway. A hot chocolate, please.”

“You’re not even gonna say hi?” Namjoon asks him, annoyance clearly shown on his features. “I’m hurt.”

“You’re lucky you’re behind the register.”

“I can come out if you’re so happy to see me.”

Yoongi scoffs. Hoseok is scribbling his name on a cup, pretending he’s not eavesdropping on their whole back and forth of insults. Then he passes it to the girl working the machines and leans his back against the wall behind him, looking at his nails like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

“Stay away from my general area.”

“Or what?”

“Why the fuck are you here anyway?”

“I’m helping Hoseok find his way around campus. He’s an international student.” Namjoon grins, but it’s a mocking gesture. “Of course, you probably wouldn’t know what helping your friends meant if they gave you the vocabulary definition.”

“So you don’t want me to go back to Australia and get killed by a spider anymore?” Hoseok perks up, taking his eyes off his phone screen. “Neat.”

“You shut up,” Namjoon barks at him.

Hoseok shrugs. The girl finally hands him his drink and Yoongi takes it with careful hands, trying not to get burned.

“I would also love to have a friend who wants me to be attacked by a spider. Please, teach me.”

“God, I can’t stand you,” Namjoon blurts out, his face heating up.

“Congrats, get in line.”

Hoseok claps his hands twice, making them look away from each other.

“Go be sexually frustrated at a table. You’re clogging up the line.”

Yoongi grunts an half-hearted apology and leaves without saying anything, then he slumps down in the first free seat he finds. He unlocks his iPad with the intention of drawing some more but then changes idea before he opens the app. The late afternoon atmosphere in the shop is making him feel more tired than he actually is, so he thinks fuck it and opens Netflix, putting it on mute and turning subtitles on, because he’s a sensible person.

He’s maybe three minutes into an episode when Namjoon sits down in the chair in front of him. Once he notices him, his head immediately shoots up, looking away from the screen to glare at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting down,” Namjoon simply replies.

“Half of the place is empty,” Yoongi points out, fuming.

“Maybe I like it here.”

“Good for you.” His mood already ruined, he stands up and pauses the episode, then takes his chocolate and starts walking towards the exit.

“Bye,” he mutters when he speeds past Hoseok, who just waves his hand distractedly.

He doesn’t look back to see what Namjoon is doing and heads to his room again, half of the drink still in his cup. It’s not until he’s opening the door that he realizes Hoseok acted like he knew who he was already, but then he decides he doesn’t care, as long as he’s at least two floors away from Namjoon.




“Damn, he really hates you.”

“It’s mutual,” Namjoon says bluntly, playing with the straw of his drink. “I don’t even know why I listened to you.”

Hoseok shrugs. “I’m a trustworthy person.”

“Clearly not, since that didn’t work.” Namjoon scoffs. “He’s so full of himself. I can’t stand him.”

“My educated guess is that you want to fuck him.”

He swallows what he had in his mouth before erupting in a disgusted laugh. “I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.”


“What would you know anyway? You’ve been here for like a week.”

“It’s blatant.”

“Why don’t you —”

“Go back to Australia and get fucked by a kangaroo. Yeah, yeah, when my visa expires.”

Namjoon swears under his breath and turns his back to him.

“Shut the fuck up, Hoseok.”




He’s late again, but in his defense he’s been on time for the past week. He can get a break sometimes.

The class he should be in always starts ten minutes after it’s supposed to anyway, since their professor is even more of a late person than Yoongi is. So he takes his time and walks through the almost empty hallway calmly.

3 PM classes are the literal devil to him, even more so than 8 AM ones. Who in their right mind would give up an after lunch nap for a lecture? Him, apparently, since it’s required for his degree, and his professor is a nut job. He’s pretty sure the reason he’s always late is because he falls asleep himself. He caught him coming to class with pillow marks on his face once or twice.

He doesn’t even bump into anyone in particular, which is fantastic. He’s in a decent mood actually, and ruining it isn’t what he’s looking to do right now.

When he gets to class the professor isn’t there exactly like he predicted, so he sits down in a random seat and tries to resist from falling asleep.

“Good afternoon, Earth to Yoongi.”

Someone snaps his fingers in front of his face, making him blink a couple of times. When he sees who it is, he tries to offer him a smile.

“Sorry.” He barely holds back a yawn and his head falls back on his hand, his elbow propped on the desk. “Tired.”

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Jungkook points out, his back turned to talk to him.

“That’s the reason I’m tired.”

He honestly forgot he was in the class. That’s how gone he is.

“You really need some vitamin D,” he says, pursing his lips.

“Again with that stuff.” Yoongi groans, his arm dangerously leaning towards the desk. “I’m just a normal person who gets sleepy in the afternoon. It’s not my fault you have superpowers.”

“I just don’t pull all nighters like the rest of you sad college students,” he states, the back of his hand placed underneath his chin.

“Okay class, eyes on me,” the professor says, appearing out of nowhere. His face is red and his hair is clearly not brushed.

“Looks like I’m not the only one,” he says, nodding his head in the general direction of the professor.

Jungkook turns around and ignores him.




“This fucking class is so boring,” Yoongi laments when they’re well out of sight of their professor. “I don’t even get why I need to take it.”

“You’re always complaining, that’s why you’re dumb like a brick wall,” Jungkook says, rummaging through his shoulder bag. He makes a small noise of victory when he takes out his hand and his fingers are holding a nail file.

“Thank you,” he says flatly. “Always nice.”

“My pleasure.”

He smiles sweetly at him and proceeds to start fixing his nails, ignoring him.

“Where’s Tae?”

“Oh, I don’t know, being dumb somewhere,” he says, dismissive, without even looking at him. “Text him.”

“And always helpful,” he mutters. “I swear you two are the most useless couple ever.”

“I don’t care what he does, as long as he isn’t getting dick that’s not mine.”

“Which you know he isn’t, because he basically worships the ground you walk on.”

“That’s right,” he confirms, holding one of his fingers closely to his eyes. When he’s satisfied, he drops it and puts away the nail file. If anything, his ability to do just about everything while he walks without bumping into people is remarkable.

“What’s next?”

“For you? Who the fuck knows. My classes are over, though. I’m gonna go get knocked the fuck out for my beauty sleep.” He smiles warmly at him. “See ya.”

He walks away without saying anything else, leaving Yoongi in the middle of campus with a confused expression. He’s generally able to handle him, but it always takes him a load of willpower and at least seven hours of sleep, both of which he is severely lacking right now.

He’s pretty sure his classes are over too so he heads to the library, just to have somewhere to go.

He’s still blocked on the same page he was stuck on a week ago. Every time he sits down to draw, it’s like all of his work ethic flies out of him and goes crashing into the nearest trash can. He’s always struggled with writer’s block, but really never to this extent, and for someone who plans to make a living with his creativity, losing it — even temporarily — is quite the scary thought.

When he gets to the library, the place is sparsely crowded. A bunch of tables are completely free, but some students have occupied the bigger ones in what looks like a group study session. He never understood what good that could bring individually, but to each their own.

As he ventures inside, trying to decide where to spend the rest of his day, he’s pretty sure he’s hearing his name being called out in a hushed voice in his proximity. He looks around to locate the source, and then he sees a hand belonging to a dyed head wave at him from a table in front of him.

The wheels in his brain get to work for a moment and then it clicks and he recognizes him as the guy — Hoseok? — who served him last time he went to the Starbucks on campus.

Not having anything better to do with his time, he walks up to him and almost lets out an audible oof when Hoseok stands up and hugs him. Once he pulls back, he awkwardly sits down next to him, and then he notices there’s another person sat down at the table reading what looks like a biography.

“You should stop hugging everyone that talks to you,” biography girl says in a low voice without looking up from her book. “It’s uncomfortable.”

“Why? I’m friendly.” Hoseok shrugs, trying to keep his tone hushed as to not disturb the rest of the library. “Yoongi doesn’t mind. Do you?”

Confused, Yoongi shakes his head. “I guess not?”

“Great.” He pats his back and smiles. "Oh, this is Sooyoung. Rude of her to not introduce herself.”

“Sup,” Sooyoung says in a monotone, still not taking her eyes off the page.

When Yoongi tries to look at the title, it reads The Life of Blaise Pascal. He doesn’t know who he is, and he’s not sure he wants to know.

Hoseok sees him looking and grins. “She’s a math major. She’s basically insane, ignore her.”

“You study their lives too?” Yoongi asks horrified.

“They don’t,” Hoseok supplies when Sooyoung gives no sign of having heard the question. “She’s just a nerd.”


"What do you study?" Hoseok asks, effortlessly making conversation. Yoongi really envies him.

“Um — art. You?”

“Intellectual. I dance.” Hoseok smiles like he just remembered something. "I’m in a crew back home. We’re trying to make it big with our channel and they hate me because I bailed last minute to do a year abroad. They’ll do just fine without me, it’s not like I’m the choreographer. They’re just crybabies."

It’s safe to say Yoongi wasn’t ready for all that oversharing, but he nods anyway as he takes it all in.

"Hope you make it then.” He scratches at his neck, genuinely wanting to make conversation, but finding it really draining to do so. "So you dance?"

“Oh, yeah. Hip hop, mostly. I play the guitar too, but that’s more of a hobby.”

“Woah,” Yoongi mutters, feeling pretty stupid. “I’m uncoordinated.”

“The important thing is trying.”

Sooyoung finally looks up from her book for the first time, and the giant glasses she has on make her look more intimidating than she actually is.

“Don’t mind him too much. He’s Australian. They’re weird.”

“What did we ever do to you.” Hoseok sighs, fake dramatically. “We’re so cute. We gave you AC/DC, and Tame Impala, and kangaroos.”

“Please, stop talking.”


Hoseok turns back to Yoongi and Sooyoung sighs, going back to her book.

“So, you do art. Tell me about it.”

Yoongi figures why not. It’s not like he has anything else to do and Hoseok seems approachable, so he tells him about his passion for comics and he listens.

“That’s unfortunate,” he says after Yoongi tells him about the problems he’s having with his inspiration. “You should partner up with someone.”

“I should what, exactly?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Find someone to write it for you!” he exclaims, the duh left unspoken, but obvious. “This place is full of literature majors.”

Yoongi thinks it over, and the more he does it, the more it actually sounds like a good idea.

“Like, I tell them my idea and they write the dialogues?”

“I guess, yeah. Something like that.”

“You know, that’s actually pretty clever,” he thinks out loud. “Why have I never thought of it before?”

“Hoseok saving the day once again,” he says solemnly, talking of himself in the third person. “It’s not even been a month, and I already saved like ten lives in here. Namjoon’s gonna be so mad.”

Yoongi’s mind immediately stops in its tracks when he hears that name and his expression goes dark almost immediately. He’d managed to go a whole week without even having someone mention him, and now he’s already had enough.

“What does he have to do with this?” he asks bitterly.

“Oh, nothing, he’s my roommate and I like to give him shit,” he simply says, not sensing the change in Yoongi’s voice. Sooyoung does though, and she looks up again, an interested spark in her eyes.

“My condolences,” he says flatly. “Must be hard living with him.”

“Not really,” Hoseok replies, still oblivious. “He cleans everything from scratch like every other day.”

“Hoseok, shut up,” Sooyoung says.

“Why?” he whines. “I didn’t do anything.”

Yoongi gets up from his seat while they bicker and coughs.

“I’m gonna go to my art professor and see about that partner thing,” he explains, not really wanting to hear anything else about how great Kim Namjoon supposedly is. “Thanks for the idea. See you around.”

“Don’t be a stranger!” Hoseok says with a smile, their previous conversation already forgotten.

Yoongi leaves after that, still fuming. He knows it’s childish to get so annoyed at something so stupid, but he can’t help it. His name makes him furious, let alone seeing him in person, and yet it seems like everyone around him does it on purpose to make a point of mentioning him every two seconds.

He heads to the art department and knocks on his professor’s office, the place familiar to him from visiting it during office hours throughout the three years he’s been there. It’s not exactly office hours right now, but it’s never been much of an issue for him.

“Come in!”

He pushes the door open and when the professor looks up and sees him he gives him a tired but friendly smile, putting down the pen he was using to grade papers.

“Hey, Yoongi. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, uh. Hello.” He fidgets with his hands, self-conscious of what he’s about to say. “Can I sit down?”

“Of course, take a seat.”

He slumps down on a chair in front of his desk and brings his hands in his lap, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

“It’s kind of a weird request,” he starts, earning an intrigued look from him. “It’s about my comics.”

The professor nods, very aware of it, his passion being something they discussed often.

“Go ahead.”

“So you know I suck with words.”

The professor smirks at his word usage. “Yes, what about it?”

“Someone gave me an idea, but I don’t know who to ask.” He pauses, trying not to blurt out something dumb. “I know I need help with that, so I thought I could ask someone from the literature department to like, give me advice or something. The problem is I don’t know anyone who studies literature.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” the professor agrees, picking his pen up again to play with it. “I can recommend you to Ms. Kim. She teaches creative writing.”

“You’d do that?” Yoongi’s face lights up. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He picks up his phone from the desk and starts typing something on it. “You have the highest grade in my class, I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

Yoongi nods with a grateful smile and then the professor speaks again, looking up from his phone.

“She’s actually free right now. You know where the literature department is, right?”

“Uh — vaguely?”

The professor sighs with an amused smile.

“Building three, second floor. Look for her name on the door, I can’t remember which room it is.”

Yoongi’s body immediately shoots up. He thanks him again and then he’s out of the room.

The campus is weirdly quiet for the hour, even though there are students walking around. Fall is setting in and everyone’s taking the slight temperature change with unwelcoming arms.

He climbs the stairs up to the second floor and knocks on the door with Ms. Kim’s name, slowly opening it once what he supposes is her voice tells him to come in.

“You must be Min Yoongi,” she says as a greeting, a friendly smile in place. Her desk is cluttered with graded papers and for some reason a Nintendo Switch is visible underneath one of them. Yoongi likes her already.

“Good afternoon,” he says, nodding and trying to be polite.

“Sit down and go ahead.”

Yoongi awkwardly sits down and tries to explain his problem to her, finding it hard not to sound stupid, but she listens and there’s no trace of judgment in her eyes.

“I think I have someone for you,” she says once he finishes talking, skimming through a folder. When her eyes land on what she was looking for a smile creeps up on her face.

“Really? Thank you so much.”

“He has the highest grade in my class. He’s really good at what he does, every time he hands in an assignment it’s always a delight. He really has a way with words I haven’t found in any other student these past years he’s been in my classes. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you.”

She pauses for a second. “I can’t give you his phone number, but I’m sure if you ask around for Kim Namjoon you’ll find him, he doesn’t really go unnoticed.”

Yoongi’s brain goes blank.

“Did you say his name is Namjoon?”

When she nods, he asks again to be sure, not really believing his ears.

“Tall guy, sort of always nervous, giant glasses?”

“That’s him. If you know him already, that’s half of the work done on your part then.”

“We kind of can’t stand each other,” he states bluntly, not really assimilating the situation.

Ms. Kim raises an eyebrow.

“Then you have your chance to make peace.”

“I don’t think that would end up nicely,” he mutters. “Anyone else you could give me?”

“There are a couple of other people, but I’m gonna be honest with you. He’s your best candidate.”

“I’ll take literally anyone else.”

The professor doesn’t comment on that and writes down a couple of names on a post it.

“Think about it. I trust your professor’s judgment, and if you’re as good as he says Namjoon really is your best bet.”

He thanks her for the compliment and takes the note, not commenting on the last part of her sentence.

“Thank you so much for your help and your time,” he says with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

When she dismisses him, he gets out of the room and heads straight to his dorm room. Luckily, humans can’t emit smoke from their ears.

Chapter Text

“Don’t you want your comic to be good?” Seokjin asks him, exasperated.

“Not with him!” Yoongi exclaims. “I’ll die before I ask that moron for help.”

“You should get your head out of your ass. You two have been hating each other for like two years, and for what?”

“I don’t give a shit, Jin. There are five hundred other literature students in this damn school I could ask.”

“But are they as good as he is?” he says with a shrug, playing with a pencil between his fingers.

“I don’t even know if he is!” he mutters before falling back the bad, facing the ceiling. “His professor says he is, but how would I know?”

“I’m convinced you live in your own world.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at the void. Having someone who basically lives off chemical formulas tell you something like that is never a good sign.


“You’re the most popular art student in the department and you’ve never read anything he wrote?”

“Have you?” he asks pointedly, turning on his side to look at Seokjin.

“Who the fuck hasn’t? Oh, right — you.”

He immediately sits up straighter, his legs crossed. “I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that.”

“He has like two self-published books up on Amazon. He held a signing on campus last year because his last one got traction on Goodreads and everyone read it. Where were you?”

“Avoiding him, probably.”

He frowns, trying to remember. He really doesn’t recall anything of the sort but, to be fair, he really was putting in effort to avoid hearing anything about him. Nobody was stupid enough to mention his name around him.

“You should take a look at them,” Seokjin suggests offhandedly, his eyes going back to his textbook.

“I’m not spending money for that.”

Seokjin shrugs. “I might have a signed copy.”

“You fucking got one signed like he’s a celebrity?”

He shrugs again and Yoongi glares at him. When Seokjin doesn’t react, he sighs in defeat.

“Alright. Give me this dumb ass book.”

“It’s in my bookshelf right there somewhere. Blue cover. Have fun.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and gets up from the bed against his better judgment. His shelves are a complete mess of notebooks and test tubes and it takes him almost five minutes to find it, during which Seokjin totally ignores him and keeps highlighting sentences on his textbook.

“This one?”

Seokjin glances at it for a second and looks away again.


“Why is this so damn long?” he says, his nose scrunched up as he looks at it like it’s gonna catch fire. “I have homework.”

“Don’t we all,” Seokjin echoes from the bed.

His social batteries have probably reached their quota for the day, so Yoongi drops it and stops talking to him, opting to throw himself back on the bed instead with the book in hand.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” he grunts as he opens it.


“Did you even sleep last night?” Taehyung asks him when they sit down on a bench in the park surrounding the campus.

“No. Did you?”

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I sleep?” he replies, confused by his follow up question, before he leans in and takes a look at Yoongi’s face. His eyes are red. “Did you smoke before class?”

“No,” he says, sniffling.

“Did you cry?” He takes his face in his hands and brings it to his, inspecting it from up close. “You cried.”

“I didn’t cry, and let me go,” he exclaims in a strained voice, weakly smacking Taehyung’s hand out of his close proximity.

“You did.” Taehyung frowns, trying to think. “Did you watch that movie where the dog dies again?”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” he tries to swerve the subject, not even bothering to put a question mark at the end of his sentence.

“Tell me what’s wrong or I’m waking up Jungkook,” he threatens him, phone already in hand.

“No!” Yoongi exclaims, snatching it away from his grip instantly. “I can’t handle his wrath before noon.”

“So?” He takes his phone back with a raised eyebrow.

“I started reading a book and it got interesting, and I stayed up all night to finish it,” he finally admits, his voice low and embarrassed. “Nothing exceptional.”

“And you cried.”

“Oh my fucking god, I said I didn’t!” he denies again, but Taehyung has already made up his mind.

And he would be right because he did cry, but he’ll never admit to it.

“Since when do you read books?”

“Since when are you a dumb ass idiot? Right, you’ve always been one.”

“No need to be mean,” Taehyung says, offended; then his eyes light up as something comes to his mind. “Wait.”


“You read one of Namjoon’s books.” A grin appears on his face. “And you liked it.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

He’s determined to lie his way to the morgue if he has to.

“Jin told me he gave you one yesterday. You can’t possibly read two books in one night.”


“I’m gonna beat his ass and kick him out of the dorm,” he whispers under his breath, his words furious. “Can’t even tell him shit.”

“I imagine you liked it like every single one of us then.”

He pauses and then sighs.

“Yeah,” he admits, defeated. “It was good.”

“Nice.” Taehyung leans back on the bench. “You gonna ask him for help then?”

“How the fuck do you know about that?” Yoongi frowns “I haven’t told you.”

“Hoseok, is that his name? He talks a lot.”

“You know him?” he says, his face hidden in his hands.

“I’m convinced every single student in this college knows him by now. Did you know he has a parrot?”

“I do now.” Yoongi huffs out a sigh and abandons his back against the bench, his arms falling along his sides.

“So? Go ask him.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“What?” Taehyung sits up straighter, looking at him with an accusatory glance. “Why?”

“Because we hate each other’s guts, in case you didn’t notice.”

“You only think you do.”

“No, no. We do. Trust if I had to stay in the same room with him for more than ten minutes I would fucking strangle him.”

“What’s happening here?” Jungkook asks, making both of them jump on the bench.

He makes his way to Taehyung and sits down on his lap, leaving a kiss on his lips. Taehyung hugs him from behind, resting his head against his arm.

“Nothing,” Yoongi tries to say.

“He knows,” Taehyung speaks up from behind his back, a smile on his lips.

“God.” Yoongi groans. “You always sleep when you don’t have classes and you decided to wake up today?”

“And?” he says, his lips forming a straight line. “You’re being an idiot. I came to the rescue.”

“Well, you can go back to sleep, because I’m not changing my mind.”

“Oh my God, this shit has gone on for too long.”

He stands up and sits back down on the bench this time, moving Taehyung to the side to squeeze in between them.

“Do you even remember why you hate each other?”

“No,” Yoongi says after a pause, confused.

“I do.” Jungkook crosses his arms. “End of second year. We were at the corner store and he bought the last bowl of coffee flavored ice cream and refused to give it up or share it with you. Start of the feud. Does that seem like a valid reason to you?”

He frowns, trying to remember. Sophomore year was rough. It was right in the middle of finals and it was so hot he felt like he was gonna go mad. He vaguely remembers that day, but then it hits him and his face immediately darkens.

“I needed that ice cream like you need your beauty sleep and he took it from me.”

“Please.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You’ve been at each other’s throats for more than a year and a half now and it’s all for — ugh, ice cream.”

“Yeah, and then he told everyone I was the one who spray painted half of the science building.”

“You kinda started the rumor he was the one who wrote that one terrible My Little Pony fanfiction from 2009,” Taehyung replies.

“And he broke into my room and hid half of my vinyl collection and my copic markers in a bush in the park.”

“You bribed that freshman working in IT with anime fanart to get his mom’s email, and then you told her Namjoon was failing all of his classes when he wasn’t.”

“Okay, damn, I get it.” Yoongi crosses his arms on his chest. “This only proves my point.”

“Your mutual hatred is based on petty bullshit. Have you ever tried having a conversation with him?”

“I’ll die before that happens,” he shoots back, suddenly standing up from the bench. “Plus you act as if he’d say yes if I asked him. He hates me just as much as I hate him. I’m done with this conversation.”

He takes off without saying goodbye, leaving Jungkook and Taehyung behind with defeated expressions.

“He’s so blind,” Jungkook says with a sigh, before resting his head on Taehyung's shoulder.


“You heard about Yoongi?” Jimin says as he grabs a seat in front of Namjoon.

“What about that idiot,” he replies without looking up, his fingers hitting the keys on his laptop at a concerning speed.

“Apparently, he’s looking for a writer to partner up with him for a comic.”

Namjoon’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest as he replies, still typing.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I heard three juniors talk about it in the hallway.” Jimin explains, taking out a green highlighter and a stash of photocopies from his bag. “I have no idea where it came from though.”

Namjoon nods distractedly, clearly not interested in his words. The conversation is basically already over, so Jimin speaks again.

“People are literally planning pitches to get him to illustrate their ideas and he doesn’t even know,” he continues with nonchalance, trying to get Namjoon’s attention.

“And I should care because?” At last Namjoon acknowledges what he’s saying, though he’s still focused on the paper he’s writing. His eyes still haven’t left the screen.

“I mean, you write.”

He finally stops typing, the incessant tiny clicks he was making suddenly coming to a halt, and he looks up from the screen.

“So?” he says, a general idea of what Jimin might be insinuating already in mind. And he doesn’t like it.

“Well, you could —”

“Hell no,” he cuts him off immediately, going back to writing. “I’m not helping him.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I know what you were gonna say. Imagine thinking I would want to be seen in public with him.”

“You don’t need to be seen in public with him to help him,” Jimin points out, glancing distractedly at his study material. “Just saying.”

“Still not helping him. I have things to do. This paper and this new book aren’t gonna write themselves.”

“I mean — you could get something out of it too.”

Namjoon sighs in annoyance and decides to give up, so he saves the document to be sure and serves Jimin with the attention he wants so much.

“Enlighten me.”

“Remember that one story you had that you thought didn’t work in a book format?”

“Huh.” Namjoon frowns. “Kind of?”

“That weird ass plot about an alien coming to Earth and trying to run for president.”

“Oh! Yeah. What about it?”

“Okay, good.” Jimin puts both of his elbows on the table and does a dramatic gesture with his hands, like an intern trying to get promoted with a sales pitch. “Now, imagine that as a comic.”

Namjoon looks at him for a second, surprising himself when he actually considers what Jimin just said. He’s had that idea shelved for months because he doesn’t know how to bring it to life. He tried writing it, but it didn’t feel right, and the fact the plot is straight up stupid doesn’t help. He really liked it though, so he dumped the half finished prologue in his folder labeled Failures and left it there to rot.

Now that he thinks about it, he could actually see it as a comic.

“Yeah, no.”

Jimin’s expression instantly drops and he sighs in frustration.

“But why?”

“Me working with him? Are you out of your damn mind?”

“I don’t understand why you two hate each other so much,” Jimin mutters, his eyes skimming the page in front of him as he highlights a word.

“He’s annoying, he’s built like a gummy bear, his hair looks like —”

“Do you have that memorized?” Jimin interrupts him.


“You’re so petty.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m not friends with him either, but he seems like a decent person.”

“To you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“He literally threw a bucket of water at me once.”

“And you dumped his records in the park,” Jimin points out.

“All you’re doing is remind me why I can’t stand him. Leave me alone.”

Namjoon re-opens the Word document and starts typing again like the conversation didn’t happen. Finally Jimin realizes he’s wasting energy. He grabs his phone and sends a quick text before going back to his photocopies.


“Do you know why there were two midget looking freshmen waiting outside our door?” Yoongi asks once the door closes behind him, not bothering to lower his voice.

“They were waiting for you.” Seokjin shrugs. “I guess.”

“Yeah, I gathered,” he says flatly. “Why?”

“Why would I know?” He starts rummaging through his closet. When he re-emerges, he’s holding a white lab coat. “Ask them.”

“I need new friends,” Yoongi says under his breath just as Seokjin grabs a book and makes for the door after putting it on.

“Annoying!” Seokjin calls out without looking back after opening the door and walking past the two aforementioned freshmen.

They look at him with bewildered expressions and when they see Yoongi in the room they wave at him. He sighs and walks up to them, closing the door behind him.

“Do I know you?”

“Let me just say I’m a big fan of your work,“ one of them starts in an excited voice. Yoongi can already feel the headache. “I follow you on Instagram.”

“Okay? Thank you?” Yoongi says, with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t enjoy being rude, but he has no idea of what’s going on, and he's dying to go to bed.

“We heard you’re looking to collaborate with writers,” the other one, a short ass boy, says. “We volunteer.”

“Where the fuck did you hear that?” Yoongi frowns, annoyed. He can understand Jimin knowing, but this?

They both shrug. “Word going around.”

“And who said it first?”

“No idea.” The taller one brushes it off, clearly not interested in finding the culprit. “You up for it?”

“First of all, I don’t even know you,” Yoongi starts, because he has standards. “Also, it’s nine.”

“Why did your roommate just walk away with a lab coat at night?” the other one asks confusedly.

“He’s weird. And you two are too. Aren’t you like eighteen or something?”

“I’m seventeen,” the short one mutters.

“That’s even worse, how are you already in college? Go do your homework,” Yoongi exclaims before going back into the room and closing the door in their faces.

“Let us know if you change your mind!” they exclaim in unison from behind the door.

Yoongi is starting to feel like he’s living in a bad Saturday Night Live sketch.


“Eighteen people,” is the only thing Yoongi says as he sits down in front of Taehyung at the library.

The place is full of people talking, and the librarian gave up trying to shut everyone up approximately fifteen minutes ago. There’s a football match happening tonight and while Yoongi couldn’t care less everyone decided the library was the perfect place to animatedly discuss about it. For reasons unknown.

“What?” Taehyung says, looking up from his phone with a bored stare.

“Eighteen people have stopped me around campus these past three days just to talk about this damn comic.”

“And that’s a bad thing, because?”

“I’m being mobbed! I don’t want to talk to people.”

“You need to stop being so antisocial,” Taehyung points out, putting both of his elbows on the table. “Everyone loves you and you’re always running away from human contact.”

“They’re annoying,” he laments, dropping a stack of drawings in front of him with a thud. “And they suck. I tracked down the other names I got from that teacher and even they were terrible. What do I have to do to find decent writers in this damn place?”

Taehyung coughs once. Yoongi stares at him.

“No,” is all he says.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You implied it. I’m not gonna ask him.”

“I didn’t even plan on mentioning his name, but since you’re always thinking about him I just remembered I have something for you.”

He opens his bag and starts moving stuff around until he finds what he’s looking for. When he looks up, he’s holding a fairly thick book that looks like it’s seen better days.

“Here you go.”

“What is this?” Yoongi asks, looking at it with a distressed expression.

“Namjoon’s first book,” he replies, sliding it to him on the table. “Have fun.”

“Why is this dumbass so goddamn prolific?” He picks up the book and flicks through the pages, already bored. “This thing has to be like 600 pages.”

“He’s trying to be the next Tolstoj.”


“See, that’s exactly why you need him.” Taehyung shakes his head. “That guy who wrote War and Peace.”

“I don’t need him,” Yoongi says, trying to convince himself while his eyes say the exact opposite.

“You do.”

“Why did I get myself into this mess?” he mutters to himself, trying to order the drawings he was carrying by page number to avoid looking at Taehyung. “Why am I even listening to you?”

“What’s up, people?”

Hoseok sits down heavily in a chair next to Taehyung, startling them. He’s wearing a shirt with a koala on it and Yoongi stares at it.

“You two going to the game?” he asks without waiting for them to open their mouths.

“Sure,” Taehyung says just as Yoongi replies with a dry, “No.”

“Why not?” he asks with a sad face. “I need to become one with college culture.”

“And you decided to do that with a koala on your shirt?”

“I’m sorry, next time I’ll buy one with an unfinished essay.”

Taehyung laughs under his breath, but immediately stops caught in the act when Yoongi glares at him.

“That’s really not funny. I have something to ask you.”

“Go ahead,” Hoseok replies, smiling at him with an enthusiasm Yoongi really can never find in himself before six in the afternoon at the very least. And then he loses it again at seven. “I’m all ears.”

“Are you the one who told everyone I wanted help for a comic?” he questions him, a stern look in place.

To his credit, Hoseok doesn’t bat an eyelash. “No.”


“I swear on my friend’s band's spoken word album.”

“Your wh — no, nevermind.” He keeps looking at him. “Are you one hundred percent sure?”

“Yes.” Hoseok shrugs innocently. “Maybe someone heard it when I told you to do it the other day. Rumors always start in libraries.”

“That is not a thing,” Taehyung points out.

“It’s really not,” Yoongi adds.

“Australian culture.”

“To me it sounds like it’s just you culture, but let me shut up,” Yoongi says.

Hoseok bursts out laughing. “Namjoon said the same thing to me the other day.”

“Why did you say his name?” Taehyung groans, preparing himself mentally.

However Yoongi doesn’t even react to it, just lets out a sigh.

“We get you’re in love with him, but why do you have to mention him every other minute?”

“If I was in love with him I wouldn’t be here right now, but in his bed,” he deadpans. “Anyway. I have extra tickets for tonight. You in?”

“Damn, for real? My man,” Taehyung exclaims, high-fiving Hoseok.

“Oh, you two are friends now?” Yoongi says, annoyed.

“I got them from Namjoon, thank him if you see him,” Hoseok continues talking to Taehyung, straight up ignoring him.

“Didn’t he stop playing last year?”

“Yep, I guess he’s still friends with the team.”

“Okay, what is this, the Kim Namjoon fan club?” Yoongi stands up and picks up his drawings and the book Taehyung gave him. “I have class in ten minutes. Goodbye.”

He throws his bag on his shoulder and leaves, trying to walk through all the people flooding the library.

Taehyung sighs as Hoseok hands him a ticket.

“This is gonna be harder than I thought.”

“At least he took the book.”


It turns out his next class got cancelled, so he finds himself free two hours earlier than he’d anticipated with nothing to do.

He walks around for a while with no destination before giving up and going back to his room.

Seokjin isn’t there. He’s pretty sure he’s holed up in the lab again, but he doesn’t mind. He definitely needs some time to cool down and decide what the fuck he’s gonna do next. He sits at his desk and opens his laptop. The sad view that greets him when the screen lights up is one he’s found himself staring at very frequently lately, and the abandoned Photoshop project hasn’t changed one bit.

He keeps eyeing it like it’s gonna start drawing itself for a while, not really properly seeing it. His mind keeps wandering off to stupid stuff and he hasn’t even tried turning on the tablet yet. He groans, resting his head on his arms as they slide on the flat surface until he’s basically slumped down on the desk.

“I hate this shit,” he whispers to the void. “Fuck this.”

He stands up abruptly, grabs Namjoon’s book, and heads out again before he can change his mind.


“What do you mean you're not coming?” Jimin says, arms crossed on his chest. “It’s the first game of the season!”

“I’m inspired, I can’t leave now,” Namjoon replies without looking up from the screen. “You know how it is.”

Jimin sighs, finally uncrossing his arms. “I can’t believe you.”

“You’re distracting me. Just go.”

“Come on, even Hoseok is coming! You wanna miss out on him doing a shitty Texan accent for no reason?”

“Record a video, Jimin. I’m busy.”

He waves a hand at him and then puts it back on the keyboard. It’s immensely unsettling but even without a hand he hasn’t stopped typing.

“Alright.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Have fun in your room on a Saturday night.”

When Namjoon doesn’t even reply, he gets out of the room with another sigh. As he walks away, he takes his phone out and opens the messaging app.

(to: australian twink) he's not coming
(to: australian twink) this stuff is exhausting i’m off duty for the day

(from: australian twink) that’s fine the devil works hard but i work harder go to the game i’ll figure it out

Jimin doesn’t bother replying and puts his phone away.


Namjoon frowns when his phone’s ringtone goes off but decides to check it anyway, pretty satisfied with the stuff he’s written so far.

(from: stupid ass roommate) you missed out on some good shit bro

(to: stupid ass roommate) please don’t say bro
(to: stupid ass roommate) what do you want

(from: stupid ass roommate) i forgot my jacket and i’m cold can you bring it to me

(to: stupid ass roommate) you’re lucky i’m done writing

(from: stupid ass roommate) that a yes?

(to: stupid ass roommate) bye.

“This idiot,” Namjoon whispers under his breath, looking around for his dumb jacket. “I’m gonna kill him.”

He spots it almost immediately on the bed, so he takes it and heads out.


“What would I do without you,” Hoseok says as he takes the jacket from his hands.

“I’d rather not know,” Namjoon says flatly.

“Me too.” Hoseok grins at him. “Since you’re here. How’s your alien story coming along?”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at his question. “What?”

“You know,” Hoseok says, making a random gesture with his hand. “The comic one.”

“There’s no comic.”

“There could be.”

“Okay,” Namjoon starts, combing a hand through his hair in distress. “I don’t know how the fuck you always know everything, but be sure that is not happening.”

“That would be such a cool comic though.” Hoseok frowns. “I’d read it. Do it for me?”

“What the fuck?”

Hoseok’s face suddenly changes into a serious one.

“I saw you look at his Instagram the other day. You dirty liar.”

“I wasn’t — oh, fuck this. So? Is that a legally binding contract?”

The conversation is making him feel so on edge he isn’t even worried about the fact they’re literally arguing outside of a gym with nobody else around, looking like two psychopaths.

“So you like his art! You two don’t even need to interact that much. Think how sick of a comic that would be.”

“Yeah.” Namjoon sighs. “I know.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“He hates me, I hate him,” he says, stating the obvious. “He’ll never say yes.”

“I don’t know, he’s been looking pretty desperate to find a decent writer around here.”

“Okay, goddammit. I’ll ask him if you leave me alone. You should stop doing that. I know you know I can’t say no to you.”

Hoseok’s eyes go cheerful again.

“Nice! He’s near the lake. See you when I get back,” is all he says before turning on his heels and leaving him alone outside.

He’s pretty sure he just agreed to a pact with the devil. He doesn’t want to ask Min Yoongi of all people to work with him, but he also can’t say no to a perfectly good idea that could turn out to be great. It’s true he’s been looking at his art. As much as it pains him to admit it — the kid is good. He’s more than good, even though Namjoon would never say it out loud.

Having him bring his words to life as a comic sounds extremely appealing. Hoseok is right. It would be the perfect collaboration. The fact he’s even considering it is enough to make his blood boil. Min Yoongi is fucking irritating, annoying, and way too self-absorbed for his own good, but he’s an incredible artist. Maybe Namjoon could set all that aside to benefit from it. Maybe.

This is gonna go terribly wrong, he thinks before walking away with a frown on his face.




“Are you waiting for a miracle to happen or what?”

Yoongi looks up distractedly and shrugs afterwards, not looking to start a screaming match at night. The book he brought with him is lying on the ground after a pretty intense reading session, luckily hidden from Namjoon’s eyes. Not that at this point he would even care.

“Why are you here, Namjoon?” he asks him in a worn out voice, tearing his eyes off him. He directs his gaze in front of him in the distance of the park where the dark completely surrounds the trees. “I don’t have enough patience to deal with you right now.”

He sits down next to him and cringes. “Why the fuck are you sitting on the grass when there are benches? I didn’t realize you were this stupid.”

Yoongi keeps looking at the trees, too tired to get back at him.

“Nobody asked you to be here.” He bites his lower lip. “I certainly didn’t.”

Namjoon glances at him with a raised eyebrow, surprised by the lack of snark in his words. “I’m here to save your sorry ass.”

“Like I said, I did not ask.”

“Okay.” Namjoon grabs his arm and forces him to take his eyes off the park and look at him. “I don’t like this either.”

“Then leave,” Yoongi snaps, failing to keep his annoyance in check. “I don’t need your help.”

“Can you stop being a bitch for a fucking minute and listen?” Namjoon shoots back, his face angry. “We need each other, and I’m sure you know it.”

“Wow, you sure came to that conclusion out of nowhere, huh?” Yoongi sighs heavily and yanks his arm away from his grip. “This place is full of idiots and the only one with any talent whatsoever really had to be you.”

“I know you read my books.”

“Jung Hoseok, I’m gonna fucking strangle you,” he whispers under his breath, even though Hoseok isn’t anywhere near them at the moment. “Fuck.”

“He didn’t tell me anything.” Namjoon pauses for a moment and then a mocking smile creeps up on to his face. “I saw someone borrowed one of them from the library and the signature said Kim Taehyung. But thanks for confirming it.”

“You work at the library too?” Yoongi groans. “Do you have a life?”

“Do you?” he asks, still smiling. “I volunteer sometimes.”

“It's not your business,” he mutters and looks away.

“Whatever, I don’t care.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

They stay in silence for a couple of seconds, the only sound filling the air coming from the near distance — probably people walking back from the game.

“Okay, let’s put it this way.” Namjoon finally speaks and touches him on the shoulder, making him let out a distressed grunt. “I don’t like you. You don’t like me. As much as it pains me to say this, you’re amazing at what you do. I don’t like to stroke my own ego, but I’m pretty good at what I do too. We don’t have to make this harder than it is. We work together, we ignore each other when it’s not comic related. Sound fine?”

Yoongi swallows. This is so gonna bite him in the ass one day.

“I wouldn’t say you don’t like to stroke your own ego.”

“Okay, I’m the best writer on campus. Satisfied?”


Namjoon rolls his eyes and stares at him. He stares back. When Namjoon realizes his gaze has landed on Yoongi's lips, he looks away instantly.

“Fine,” he finally says. “Let’s hear this stupid idea of yours.”

“I knew there was a spark of mediocre intelligence in you, I just had to dig really deep.”

Yoongi elbows him in the ribs as hard as he can, making him let out a pained whine. “I don’t want to interact with you more than I have to. You’re on thin ice.”

“You’re acting as if I’m enjoying this.”

“You’re acting as if you are enjoying this.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, tell me this goddamn idea before I stab you and hide your corpse in the same bush where you ruined half of my records.”

Namjoon crosses his arms on his chest. “Oh my god, let it go, it’s been like a year.”

“That shit is expensive, you idiot,” Yoongi snaps and then an involuntary sigh escapes his lips. He grabs the book and shoves it in his bag, careful to hide the title from Namjoon's sight. “It’s uncomfortable here. Let’s go to the library.”

“Why the fuck were you there anyway?” Namjoon asks as they walk back inside.

“Stop asking me questions like you care.”

“Damn, sorry,” Namjoon replies, rolling his eyes. “I was just asking.”

He doesn’t even bother replying to that. When they get to the library and it’s almost empty — there’s just one girl flipping through a dictionary that looks older than the school itself — they sit down at a random table.

“Okay, I’ve had this story for a while, but I don’t think it works as a novel,” Namjoon starts, unprompted, and takes his phone out of his pocket.

Yoongi notices his voice temporarily lost the snarkiness he always uses when talking to him, which makes him hopeful. He hates unprofessional people, and if they need to be working together, he’s not looking for reasons to loathe him and his mannerisms even more than he currently does. Namjoon unlocks his phone and taps around for a couple of seconds, opening a document, before finally handing it to Yoongi.

“This is what I had so far but then I gave up. It’s basically the story of this god that travels to Earth and tries to become president basing his whole campaign on lies, only he actually admits that he’s lying. Kind of like a satire on modern politics.”

Yoongi nods at his words, focused on the sentences on the screen. Namjoon has a very distinct and concise writing style, void of long sentences, which he noticed mostly from what he read of his books. The dialogues, though, are what he really loves of it. His characters all seem to have this sharp wit and dry humor to them, creating some extremely entertaining back and forths that kept even him — a notorious short attention span owner — on the edge of his seat.

There’s not much talking in the short material he just gave him, but Yoongi can feel the potential of it, even with the judgment of someone as terrible at writing as he is.

“I love this,” he says sincerely, surprising even himself as he does it. “I think it would work.”

“Right? Feels weird to agree with you on something.”

Yoongi shrugs, slowly feeling himself sink back into annoyance. It felt too good to last.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“We should decide when to meet and stuff,” Namjoon suggests, not really looking too eager to follow up on it. “Like to brainstorm. I don’t know.”

It’s not even been a couple of minutes and his voice already gained that dry edge back.

“Your room? Seokjin is always in our room studying when he’s not in class. His presence freaks me out, and I don’t want to move my stuff to the library.”

“If you can stand Hoseok’s chatty ass, sure.”

Yoongi snorts. “In a room with you and Hoseok, you can be sure he isn't my main concern.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” Namjoon says with a sarcastic smile. “Knock it off.”

Yoongi stands up and hands him his phone back.

“I’ve had enough of you for a day. See you — or not.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon replies, surprisingly tame. “Bye.”

Yoongi shakes his head to himself as he walks away. There was a weird atmosphere between them, in that short amount of time they actually interacted like two normal people, though he’s not actually sure he didn’t imagine it. It felt strangely comfortable, but then the magic dissolved and it was like it never happened. He has to remind himself he definitely can’t stand Kim Namjoon a couple of times too many while he ends up staring at an empty Photoshop project for the umpteenth time.

He lets out a heavy sigh and turns his laptop off for good, grabbing his sketchbook instead. While he was reading what Namjoon gave him, a vivid image of the protagonist popped up in his head. He’s not sure it will be final — or if they’ll end up using it. Or even if they will actually go through with this whole thing, for that matter. All he knows is that, as soon as his pencil touches the paper, his brain is already at work, and he finds himself drawing freely without having to think about every painful line for the first time in weeks.

What the hell has he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

The first thing Yoongi does the second he wakes up is slam his head back into the pillow, letting out a groan.

“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks him from his bed, making him jump on the spot.

“God, you scared me,” he exhales, staring at the ceiling. “You’re creepy.”

“It’s like, late afternoon,” he points out. “How do you sleep so much?”

He stayed up all night to finish Namjoon’s book. Not that he’d ever say it out loud.He’s perfectly fine keeping it a secret, stored away in the back of his mind. Keeping company to the fact he cried again.

“Whatever. Start talking to me when I realize what I’m doing.“ Yoongi throws his legs over the edge of the bed and finally stands up, barely holding back a yawn. “I hate Sundays.”

“You’re the only person on Earth who does.”

“I just sit around doing nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s boring.”

He stands there for a couple of seconds, a distant thought lingering in the back of his mind. He had something to do today, didn’t he?

“Oh, fuck,” he says, finally realizing. “I’m with Namjoon today.”

“You’re what?” Seokjin exclaims, startling him again. “You asked him! And he said yes? Wow. You’re gonna get laid. Finally you’ll stop being a stuck up bitch. I’m impressed.”

Yoongi slowly turns to look at him with a distressed expression.

“I’m gonna get — what in the actual fuck are you talking about?” he asks him, trying not to cringe. “And for the record, he asked me. I don’t know why I let him talk me into it. I should know better.”

“Ignore that part,” Seokjin comments, disregarding everything Yoongi said after that. “You’re finally collaborating?”

“Yeah." He sits back down on the bed, defeated. "Looks like it.”

“Nice. I’m excited.”

“That makes one of us,” Yoongi says, sounding so sad Seokjin almost stands up and hugs him.

“God, get your shit together. You’re acting like your hamster died.”

“I wish it was my hamster. My morals and dignity died.”

“Dramatic bitch,” Seokjin mutters under his breath. “Go do whatever you gotta do.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go get lunch.”

“It’s three in the afternoon,” he points out.

“It’s a free country,” Yoongi replies, mocking his voice. He glares at him one last time, and then he’s gone.

Once the area is Yoongi-free, Seokjin takes out his phone.

(to: koala man) he’s going to the cafeteria

(to: koala man) do your thing




Yoongi’s munching on a muffin, feeling extremely sorry for himself, when loud bickering coming from the entrance makes him look up from his scrolling session on Instagram. The place is mostly empty, obviously because of the hour, and somehow he’s not surprised when the faces belonging to the commotion appear in the room. Annoyed, yeah, but he’d seen it coming, no matter how much he prayed he’d be wrong.

“What are you dragging me around for, oh my god.”

“Joonie, you’re too slow, come on,” Hoseok exclaims, tugging at his arm. “You snail.”

“If you don’t take your ass back to Australia in the next two hours —”

“Oh, look who’s here,” he cuts Namjoon off, earning a glare from him. “Yoongi, sweetie, hi. What’s up?”

He waves at him and forces Namjoon to follow him as he sits down in front of Yoongi, who’s still watching the whole scene horrified. Wasn’t it enough they were making a scene that they needed to bother him too?

“I need coffee, but I don’t like going places alone,” he says, even though nobody asked. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi replies, disoriented. “Didn’t you work here?”

“Oh, yeah. I got tired of it. Lasted two days. Not that bad for my standards.”

“At least you’re self aware,” Namjoon echoes in a monotone.

Yoongi shrugs, not really wanting to contribute to the conversation. They haven’t even acknowledged each other yet and, to be honest, he’s perfectly okay with it. The less he hears Namjoon speak, the happier he’ll be. Hoseok isn’t having it, though because, in typical Hoseok fashion, he changes the subject in the blink of an eye. Yoongi can already feel the headache coming.

“So, you two meeting up today? You’re gonna do great things. Stan Lee is trembling.”

Yoongi sighs. He was so hoping he’d forget and they’d go back to normal. That was really just wishful thinking. He shouldn’t even be surprised. He was just trying to have his stupid lunch at three in the afternoon in peace, thinking about his personal tragedies, and now he’s being mobbed by an Australian weirdo and his archenemy, who's glaring at him. Why did he agree to this again?

“Yeah, sure, if Royal Highness here wants to grace me with his presence,” Namjoon says, irritated. “Or whatever. I don't care.”

“I just woke up,” Yoongi says, too tired to argue. “Besides, we didn’t talk times.”

“Don’t worry, I can see that,” he shoots back, alluding and glancing at his crumpled shirt and out of control hair. “It's pretty obvious.”

Yoongi scowls, looking down at his chest. “It’s not that bad.”

“It sure is that bad. Cool shirt, though.”

“Uh.” He looks at him, taken aback by his attempt at a compliment. “You like Pink Floyd?”

“Who doesn’t?” Namjoon says. For a second, they almost smile at each other. It’s so brief that when it’s gone Yoongi thinks he dreamed it.

“I gotta go take a shower,” he mutters eventually, avoiding Namjoon’s eyes. “I can see you after that. I guess.”

“Do you know where our room is?” Hoseok asks, his enthusiasm unparalleled once again. How does he do that?

“Why would I know?” Yoongi rolls his eyes just as Namjoon glares at him again. He wants to wipe that expression off his face so badly. In a multitude of ways. “No, I don't.”

“Fourth room, first floor,” he says immediately before standing up. “It's easy to get there.”

“Where are you going?” Yoongi asks him as Hoseok moves his hair out of his face. A bad feeling fills the pit of his stomach.

“I’m meeting Jimin to help him run his lines. I’ve been told I’m a good listener for actors.”

Yoongi suddenly feels agitated. He was convinced Hoseok was gonna be in the room with them. Now, he doesn’t exactly enjoy hearing his constant blabbering in the background, but at least he’s nice, and kind of a fun person to be around. Most of the time.

Unlike someone else.

Namjoon coughs, waking him up from the horror.

“Are you gonna take that stupid shower or what?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m waiting. I don’t have all day.”

“Wow, no need to be that friendly. I’m not used to this special treatment. Keep it down.”

“Well, I’m going. Call if you miss me,” Hoseok says, doing finger guns, and walks out of the place without even ordering that coffee.

“Well.” Namjoon sighs. “This is gonna be a long day.”

“Yeah, and I definitely don’t need to be around you more than I have to,” Yoongi blurts out. “See you in like twenty minutes. More or less.”

He stands up and proceeds to leave in a hurry, trying not to let his mind linger too much on the way Namjoon’s eyes lit up when he mentioned the shirt.

Namjoon watches as he leaves, unsure of what to think for once.




“It’s not locked!”

Yoongi pushes the door open. He’s immediately greeted with the sight of Namjoon and Hoseok’s room. For some reason, perhaps from being too used to the mess Seokjin constantly leaves behind, he was expecting it to be scattered with clothes, maybe books. Instead, it looks like someone disinfected every single corner and then sprayed air freshener all over it.

Both of their desks are immaculate. Hoseok only keeps a bunch of pens and a stack of books on it, while there’s an electric guitar abandoned next to it. If he squints, he can make out the neck of a shiny looking silver bass behind his closet. He’s not sure whether he wants to know if Namjoon’s inner cleaning freak took control of that, too.

Namjoon is hunched over a thick textbook with words highlighted in green. When Yoongi enters the room, he looks up, his face already looking annoyed. The temptation to turn around and run back to his room is huge, but he tries to remind himself he needs to be the bigger man. His mom didn’t raise a quitter.

“Twenty minutes, was it?” Namjoon says with a raised eyebrow, taking off the highlighter from the page. “Are you ever on time? Like, at least once a month?”

“Yeah, when I actually want to be somewhere,” he shoots back, standing in the middle of the room. Off to a great start. “Where do I put this?”

Namjoon sighs and points at the desk. “Let me get your stupid ass a chair.”

Fighting hard to hold himself back from rolling his eyes, Yoongi drops his laptop, his tablet, and his art supplies next to his book. Namjoon takes it off the table once he steals the chair from Hoseok’s desk and gives it to him.

He glances at his things with a judgmental stare. “Did you rob a stationary store on the way here?”

“It’s just a sketchbook and pens,” Yoongi points out, sitting down. “Are you dumb?”

“You shouldn’t be one to talk,” he mutters under his breath. “I just don’t know shit about art.”

“I can see that.” He finally gives up and rolls his eyes as he flips the notebook open. “Now, focus. I tried to make some starting sketches for how I imagine your main character last night. Take a look at them and see if you like it.”

He hands him the drawings and watches him as he turns the pages. His eyes don’t say anything in particular, constantly busy in that poker face of his, but some interest seems to be shining through. A small part of Yoongi desperately wishes he would say he hates them, so he can abandon the room and they can never speak of this whole ordeal ever again.

“This is cool as fuck,” Namjoon admits in the end, looking up. Yoongi’s pretty sure he’s never looked at him that way ever. It’s weird. “I love it.”

“You do?” Yoongi asks, surprised by his words. His eyes widen, and the annoyance he was feeling gets set aside for a painful moment. “Wow.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he snaps, handing him the sketchbook back and breaking the magic. “I’m picky with my storylines.”

Yoongi scoffs. Of course it wasn’t going to last. “You’re annoying even when you breathe, nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You’re really getting on my nerves already, and it hasn’t even been ten minutes.“

Yoongi stares back at him, frowning. Namjoon keeps looking at him in the eyes, until his gaze slips down slightly. He immediately realizes it and looks away, but Yoongi caught it. It immensely weirds him out when he finds he doesn’t mind it. He shakes his head to himself.

“Yeah, anyway.” Yoongi clears his throat, trying to keep thoughts he shouldn’t have away. “That’s really all I have, but if you have, like, an idea of the beginning of the storyline or something, we could start a general draft of the first pages. Just an outline before I attach the dialogues to the actual panels. When I’ll draw them.”

“I do, actually.” He bites his lower lip. Yoongi shrugs. “How do we do this?”

He grabs his sketchbook and opens it on a blank page. It’s incredibly weird how well the process goes after that. Yoongi’s brain hasn’t worked that well in months. Namjoon gives him a line of dialogue and immediately the scene pops up in his head, translating to his pencil as soon as he thinks of it. At the same time, whenever Yoongi draws something, Namjoon gives him a description the second he takes his hand off the page. It’s fair to say Yoongi isn’t really believing his eyes. Or his hands, for that matter.

Namjoon inadvertently brushes his hand against his arm, making him do a double take. He’s not sure Namjoon even noticed, but for some fucked up reason, he gets goosebumps and almost blushes.

“What’s up?” he hears him ask. When he looks at him, Namjoon’s sporting a frown. “Everything okay?”

"Yeah,” he replies weakly, feeling caught. Whatever game his brain is playing, he doesn’t like it. He’s too comfortable. This, them, is so weird that it’s keeping him on edge just as much as it’s making him feel at ease. He’s not used to them interacting with no insults, and it’s like he almost wants to change that, so when it escalates he probably should kind of blame himself too.

“I’m not sure this works.”

 “What exactly doesn’t work?”

Yoongi shrugs, and even if he didn’t mean to, it comes off as passive-agressive anyway. “We should be jumping straight into the action.”

“Readers don’t even know who the hell he is,” Namjoon says, already irritated. “Give him some backstory.”

“You can show that later,” Yoongi exclaims, all the irritation that’s been building up in his chest slowly leaking all at once. “With, I don’t know. Events. Stuff. Comics aren’t novels, in case you didn’t notice. We don’t have time for paragraphs.”

“I hate this,“ Namjoon snaps. “You’re impossible.”

“I don’t get why it’s so fucking hard for you to listen,” Yoongi mutters, his anger getting the best of him. “We were doing so well. You can’t even take criticism.”

Namjoon glares at him. “Because you’re annoying and you don’t know when it’s time to admit you’re wrong.”

“Based on that logic, you don’t know it either,” Yoongi shoots back. Before he can stop himself, he’s standing up, already thinking about leaving. “Maybe you should take some time to work on your issues and then come find me again.”

Namjoon stands up too automatically, and before he knows it, they end up facing each other.

“Yeah, but this time I’m right,” he growls, balling his hands into fists. “If you leave I’m gonna beat your ass.”

“Why do you take shit so personally?” Yoongi holds his gaze, growing more and more uneasy and irritated by the minute. “God, I can’t stand your stupid face.”

“You know damn well I can’t fucking stand your stupid face either.”

They glare at each other for a moment. The air in the room is way too tense for their own good, and they’re both glad nobody’s there to witness their argument.

Namjoon takes a step forward, ending up so close to him they’re almost touching. Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, literally anything to distract himself from the way he’s looking at him, but before his brain even thinks of it Namjoon has pushed him against the wall behind him, grabbing his shoulders with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he spits out, trying to hide his nerves. “Let me go.”

“You’re an asshole,” Namjoon says, his voice low, tilting his head downwards to look him in the eyes. “You make me so fucking mad. It has to be a special talent. Just your presence annoys me.”

Yoongi weakly tries to get Namjoon off him, but he gives up almost immediately. “Likewise.”

“Likewise my ass,” he says.

They keep staring at each other, their bodies almost touching. Namjoon leans in, not really thinking straight. Yoongi’s not sure whether he should react or not, maybe push him away, but before his brain catches up, Namjoon’s lips are on his.

His mind’s first thought is of disbelief, but then his instinct kicks in and it’s just a mess of thoughts like fucking finally, and he doesn’t even know why he wants it — or better yet, he didn’t even know he wanted it at all in the first place. He doesn’t stop him, and takes his face into his hands instead; he kisses him back angrily, biting his lower lip in the process.

His back presses against the flat and cold surface of the wall completely as Namjoon’s lips chase his own and he closes his eyes, his mouth easily granting access to his tongue. He should put a stop to it before it gets out of hand. A tiny voice in the back of his mind is telling him to react, to do something other than kissing him back, but he can’t bring himself to care.

It’s pathetic, really, how it took them less than two hours in the same room to end up like this. He so desperately wishes he could have the willpower to push him away, to at least pretend he doesn’t want it, but his brain won’t cooperate.

Namjoon keeps kissing him with years’ worth of repressed anger, holding on to his shoulders with so much force it’ll most likely leave bruises on his skin.They end up on his bed almost immediately after that, with Yoongi’s hands running up Namjoon’s back and feeling the smoothness of his skin before their clothes find themselves thrown haphazardly on the floor of the room.

Namjoon pulls back from his lips to start working his way down from his neck to his collarbone, biting on his skin and sucking on it. It’s rough and messy and downright painful, but Yoongi doesn’t even notice as his mind is completely over it and just focused on the fact they’re really doing it.

He’s in the room of the person he can’t stand the most in the entire campus, and above everything else, he’s on his bed, almost fully naked, and he wants it. He wants it so bad it feels like he’s about to explode. It comes to him as the most unexpected surprise; the fact he wants to hurt him, but he also wants to feel his wrath and his anger on his own skin. He wants to have Namjoon take him apart and make him sense in the most primordial meaning of the word just how much he can’t fucking stand the sight of him.

“You’re so full of shit,” Namjoon says in his ear, low and guttural, taking him by surprise as he slowly drags his lips across his jaw. “So infuriating.”

“Why,” he starts saying, his hands sliding down to grab his hips in a harsh movement, “are you kissing me then?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Namjoon growls back, growing more and more impatient by the minute. “I can leave right now.”

“Don’t you dare leave this stupid room.”

Yoongi takes him by the shoulders and forces himself back on his lips. Once the kiss is in full swing again, his hands slide down to his lower back. Namjoon presses his body against his and he can feel it now, just how much he wants it too, if the growing hard on underneath his underwear is anything to go by.

He palms him through the fabric and Namjoon lets out a small noise from the back of his throat, interrupting the kiss.

“If you’re gonna do it, just fucking do it.”

“Maybe ask nicely, hm?”

He puts emphasis on each word by sliding one hand in and throwing him on the bed with his other arm. Once he’s towering over him he shoves his boxers down his legs, not even bothering to take them off properly, and then his lips are on him.

“Shit,” Namjoon breathes out, throwing his head back.

Yoongi latches on to his thighs with a hand, using the other to stroke the base while his mouth works around the tip and then takes in the whole length. With each downward motion he takes more, letting his tongue slide over his skin. Namjoon takes a hold of his hair, pushing his head further down with a harsh gesture, and Yoongi moans around his dick. The sound of it goes straight to his brain.

“Your hair color is so dumb,” Namjoon exhales as Yoongi keeps moving his head up and down.

Instead of replying, he takes the whole length in, the tip of his dick hitting the back of his throat, and Namjoon can’t help but moan loudly, his fingers digging in his hair and scalp. He bucks up his hips and ends up fucking Yoongi’s mouth, almost making him choke.

He pulls back out of nowhere after that, leaving his dick still slick with saliva and spit and leaking with pre cum. Namjoon’s almost panting, his heavy breath coming out of his slightly parted lips, and in his aroused mind, Yoongi just wants to be ripped apart by that vision. 

Air gets stuck in his throat when Namjoon reverses their positions and sends him straight into the mattress, kicking out his own underwear that still hung around his legs and then proceeding to take off his, revealing Yoongi’s just as turned on as he is.

He reaches out to his nightstand, messily seizing a condom and lube. Yoongi watches from underneath him, impatience filling him up.

“Can you fucking hurry?” he growls, his brain not even thinking straight anymore.

“Shut the fuck up and be grateful I’m even using it,” Namjoon retaliates before spreading a handful of lube over his dick and his hole, making him twitch at the cold feeling it gives him when it comes in contact with his skin.

“Just fuck me already and stop talking.”

Namjoon doesn’t let him say it twice and without preparing him further he lifts him slightly, making him fold his legs to be able to look at his face.

Yoongi’s hands are immediately on Namjoon’s back, fingernails digging into his flesh as Namjoon sinks into him repeatedly and he almost tastes blood on his lips from how hard he’s trying not to moan and give him the satisfaction.

“So you can’t stand my face?” Namjoon questions him as he slows down and then slams back in harshly. He finally gives up and a low moan makes its way out of his throat. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi exhales, feeling pleasure and pain so mixed together he doesn’t even know where one ends and the other starts anymore. “Holy sh —”

“I can’t stand you,” he repeats, cutting him off as Yoongi’s nails keep digging into his skin, feeling it tear apart under his touch. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

“God, just — shut up,” Yoongi tries to say before Namjoon finds the right angle and hits right on his prostate, making him cry out. “Just go faster and shut up.”

“You need to stop ordering me around,” Namjoon growls on his lips and thrusts into him again, making him whimper another time. “You always think you’re better than me and yet here you are, begging for it.”

Yoongi arches his back, his elbows deep into the mattress, and he’s close, so close that Namjoon’s words don’t even register with him, but rather he keeps panting with every thrust.

Namjoon’s eyes are closed as he slows down for an instant, barely managing to keep his breathing in check, and so he misses Yoongi exploiting that split second to push his body weight against him, sending him into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, disoriented by the change in positions, Yoongi is straddling his lap and sinking onto him again. His breath gets stuck in his throat at the feeling of being full again and Namjoon gets pushed into the headboard with a dull sound.

Yoongi starts rolling his hips and grinding against him, electricity running down his spine as he repeats the same movement, hitting the same spot multiple times. All Namjoon can do is stare at him with his eyes widened and his lips parted, barely keeping it together, so Yoongi takes his face in his hands out of automatic instinct and kisses him again. Taken by surprise, he kisses back with as much force as he can manage and grabs Yoongi’s hips with his hands, guiding him.

His fingers hold on to his flesh while their tongues roughly touch in their mouth. The kiss is chaotic and primordial and so angry they can’t do anything but accommodate it. It’s worrying, how much they both want it, but thinking about the implications of it is the last thing on their mind.

They come apart gasping for air at a certain point, Namjoon’s fingers still digging into his skin, and they end up with their foreheads touching and their eyes locked.

“You’re so irritating,” Yoongi barely breathes out on his lips, slowing down for a moment before he starts to ride him again. “So fucking annoying.”

Namjoon tries to retaliate, but the answer gets stuck in his throat, cut off by an abrupt moan that loses itself on Yoongi’s lips. They’re both so close and so desperate it doesn’t even take much after that.

When Yoongi slides out of him, panting heavily, Namjoon instantly takes the condom off and throws it in the trash, then collapses next to him.

“Fuck,” Yoongi says to no one in particular, his eyes fixated on the ceiling while his breathing gradually slows down, legs still spread open and too worn out to care.

“Fix your stupid nails,” Namjoon grunts, wincing in pain when he sits up. He doesn’t bother with clothes. “It’s like you got ten fucking swords instead of fingers.”

“Cute of you to think I give a fuck,” he replies, his eyes closing.

“If you even think I’m gonna let your ass fall asleep anywhere near my bed, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Namjoon grabs his hand and yanks him up harshly against his body. They glare at each other for a couple of seconds, their eyes heavy with resentment. Eventually Yoongi pushes him back into the bed and starts kissing him again. Their naked bodies end up grinding against each other again and they keep making out, their breaths hot and heavy whenever they separate for a second for air.

It’s a mess of teeth and tongue, but somehow it almost gets more desperate and hungry than the first one they shared earlier. Namjoon softly whimpers on Yoongi’s mouth when he takes his lower lip between his teeth and bites into it, then lets it go with a popping sound.

It ends as fast as it started with Namjoon pulling back from his mouth, his own lips red and swollen and almost glistening. Yoongi fights back the urge to knock him out and send him straight back into the mattress again, instead opting for standing up and putting his underwear back on, wincing in pain when he does the same with his pants. He steals a tissue from his desk when he’s not looking and cleans off his chest, throwing it in the trash afterwards.

“You’re fucking infuriating,” Namjoon mutters, imitating him and going straight back to his desk when he’s done putting his clothes back on. “But you were right. This chapter is useless.”

“It really took your idiot brain fifteen minutes up in my ass to realize that?” Yoongi asks as he sits down in the chair he abandoned next to him, trying not to do weird movements that would make him sigh in pain.

“Shut your stupid fucking mouth before I take it back,” he says, his words coming out as snarky as ever, like nothing happened between them. “Pull up the text file of the prologue.”




Yoongi walks back into his room, hoping Seokjin isn’t there so he can go to bed and try to make sense of whatever the fuck just happened. Of course, his prayers go unanswered, because the same person he was hoping wouldn’t be present is very much there and also awake, and his head immediately perks up when he hears the sound of the door being opened.

“Well?” he says, not even pretending to say hello or something.

“Well what?”

Yoongi stiffly walks up to his bed, trying not to give away the fact someone’s dick was all up in him not even one hour ago. Obviously Seokjin instantly sees through his bullshit and the second his eyes land on the way he’s walking a smirk appears on his face.

“I love it when I’m right. And Jungkook is right. And Taehyung is right. And you’re wrong. It gives me immense joy.”

“I didn’t say anything. You’re basing your assumptions off of stale air.”

“Oh yeah?” Seokjin raises an eyebrow. Yoongi really really wishes he would open an organic chemistry book and sink his face in it like he literally always does. “You’re walking like that because you feel like it then?”

“It’s none of your business,” Yoongi says, an annoyed expression in place. “And even if it was, this doesn’t change anything. I still would love to see him get run over by a car.”


Yoongi throws a pillow at him.




“This whole room reeks of sex,” Hoseok says the second the door closes behind him. “Didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“Um,” is all Namjoon says in response, staring at him with a pen in his hand.

“I’m very happy you got it out of your system.” He walks up to the window and opens it, ignoring Namjoon’s protests. “But maybe air it out next time.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, going back to his study material.

“Woah, woah.” Hoseok grins, sitting down in the chair Yoongi left not even twenty minutes earlier. “You’re so chill. If I knew getting laid would make you bearable, I would have found you someone sooner.”

He earns an elbow in his ribs after that, with Namjoon threatening him with his giant literature textbook.

“If you don’t shut up —”

“My family doesn’t breed sheep, I wouldn’t know where to find one to get fucked by it,” he anticipates his words. Namjoon groans.

“We still hate each other.”

“Keep telling yourselves that,” he says with nonchalance, looking at his nails.

Namjoon flips him off and focuses on the page he was studying, pretending his thoughts aren’t a mess of scrambled emotions.




hoseok added taehyung, seokjin, sooyoung, jungkook and jimin to the chat

hoseok changed the name of the chat to ship name in progress

hoseok: what up sirs and one madam

jungkook: what is this

hoseok: a group chat

seokjin: no shit

sooyoung: oh my god now i have to put up with you even via text??????

hoseok: i can expose your dms where you asked me to send you pics of that time i went to kangaroo island like right now



jungkook: i breathed

sooyoung: you breathe too hard

seokjin: don’t stand too close

jungkook: you gon fuck around and drown

seokjin: off this wave

hoseok: can we focus

sooyoung: NO

jimin: hobi who’s that in the third to last pic on your feed it’s for research purposes

jungkook: lmfao whore

hoseok: oh am i not enough for you????

hoseok: i see how it is.

seokjin: …

taehyung: yeah who is it ?


seokjin: i’m uncomfortable

jimin: i said i want his @

hoseok: oh my god he doesn’t have one okay

jungkook: do i sense.... jealousy

hoseok: ew

sooyoung: wow jimin what does australian dick have that is so attractive to you

seokjin: i don’t understand what you guys say 90% of the time

hoseok: i don’t care

hoseok: now on to the important things

hoseok: our subjects did the thing

sooyoung: can you talk like a normal human being

hoseok: no

hoseok: what’s the move now

jungkook: I KNEW I WAS RIGHT

jimin: this was literally all your doing and you’re asking us?

hoseok: i wanted to make you feel included

hoseok: ungrateful

jimin: once again i’m being attacked for presenting new ideas

jungkook: are you done flirting or?

hoseok: I SAID EW

jimin: you weren’t saying ew yesterday (unsent)

jungkook: WHAT WAS THAT

hoseok: nothing

seokjin: y’all gay

hoseok left the chat

jungkook: my god add that twink back

jimin added hoseok to the chat

taehyung: you're too sensitive

sooyoung: yeah tae that’s like when jungkook threw away your sex toys and you cried 

taehyung left the chat

jungkook added taehyung to the chat

taehyung left the chat

jungkook: GODDAMMIT

jungkook added taehyung to the chat

jungkook: leave again and you you’re not getting any until you graduate

taehyung: have i ever told you that i love you


seokjin: um

hoseok: the mission is turning out to be difficult but my mum didn’t raise a quitter

hoseok: just push them together whenever you can i’ll do the rest

jimin: she raised an annoying bitch

hoseok: you weren’t saying that yesterday (unsent)


jungkook: yoongi will kill me 

jimin: so nothing new

seokjin: ok

seokjin: wanna see how i made molten sodium and iodine react together

sooyoung: absolutely the fuck not




“So I might have heard —”

“Please, hold that thought before I dump all of this on your face,” Yoongi threatens him, holding his milk and cereal with way more force than needed. “I’m not kidding.”

“Okay, but —”


Jungkook shuts up and Yoongi lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Thank you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk —”





He goes to class, manages not to trip on anything or anyone, surprisingly gets a good part of the studying he needs to do done, and doesn’t really interact with anyone else apart from Seokjin – which was mostly forced since, well, they live together.

Most importantly, Yoongi doesn’t see him, which is fantastic, if not optimal.

He’s not avoiding him.

He’s just casually not talking to him, or anyone that knows him, or walking in the immediate proximity of any literature related classes, and if he circles the whole building to get his laundry done instead of going straight through it, it’s because walking is important for your health.

Not because he doesn’t want to pass by his room.

It’s not anything out of the ordinary, really. It’s not like he was ever that eager to see him; quite the contrary, in fact. He’s spent a good part of the last two years, give or take, not looking to see his idiotic face around. If the circumstances don’t want him to end up near him, he’s just gonna go with it.

His comic can wait.

Right now he’s just hoping his sanity doesn’t go flying out of the window again.




Hello, hello, hello, how low, hello —”

“Do you really have to do this here?” Namjoon asks him, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

Hoseok doesn’t even acknowledge his words and just keeps strumming, the volume of the amp not loud enough for it to disturb people outside of their room but definitely high enough to get on Namjoon’s nerves.

Here we are now, entertain us, a mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido, yeah heeeey –”


A denial, a DENIAAAAAL.”

Before Namjoon can seriously lose his temper and throw his guitar out of the window, he finishes the song and sets it aside, drying an imaginary tear from his cheek.

“One Nirvana song a day keeps the doctor away,“ he sighs, his eyes dreamy. “Oh, how I miss them.”

“Why do I put up with you?” Namjoon mutters under his breath, mostly to himself, but Hoseok hears him anyway and he walks up to his bed to jump on it and throw his head on his shoulder, like a cat looking for scratches behind their ears.

“Because I’m cute,” he says with a smile, earning a shove from the other boy.

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are.”

“Do you know what could get me out of this room and away from that guitar until tomorrow?”

“Oh my god, please tell me,” he begs, joining his hands in a fake prayer.

“Tell Yoongi to come here and continue that comic.”

Namjoon’s expression immediately switches to a frown. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t heard from him at all since he left his room last night.

Not that he cares. He just thinks it’s kind of odd, especially since it seemed like it wasn’t going that badly. They had a decent draft of the prologue, and he said he was gonna work on the art side of things a bit more before drawing the actual scenes.

But then again, it’s not like they’re friends or anything. Far from it. He can’t even stand the guy. He’s not bothered by the lack of communication, if anything it’s even an advantage. He’s certainly in no rush of going forward with their work, even though it was proving to be going well.

Apart from the, well — accident.

And, yeah, maybe he hasn’t exactly made an effort to reach out, and now it’s almost eight in the evening and it’s been almost a full 24 hours since they’ve seen each other, not that he’s counting, and also he might be the tiniest bit embarrassed about being so incapable of handling his own emotions and avoiding thinking with his dick, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s absolutely fine, they still resent each other, that was just a hiccup in the process and everything is as it should be in the world.


“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says in the end, emotionless. “And it’s late.”

“And? Yesterday you were at it until like midnight and —”

“Yeah,” he mutters, uncomfortable with the topic. “It was hard enough having to deal with him for that long.”

“But didn’t you two —”

“Yes,” he interrupts him again in a firm voice. “That was a mistake.”

“That’s one way to put it.” When Namjoon glares at him, he raises an eyebrow. “Well, then I guess you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“You say that like I don’t prefer you to him.”

“Wow,” Hoseok says and then laughs. “And they say romance is dead.”

“You already know what I’m about to say, right?”

“Flights to Melbourne are incredibly expensive at the moment, you can forget it.”

Namjoon grins, and for a brief moment he’s sort of at peace with himself.




hoseok changed the name of the chat to EMERGENCY (and i)

sooyoung: what does that mean

hoseok: it’s a reference. to an album

sooyoung: sorry we don’t know the 25 minute guitar solos you listen to on the daily

hoseok: it’s indie —

hoseok: nvm

sooyoung: how do you sigh via text

seokjin: *sighs*

hoseok: uwu *nuzzles you* rawr

sooyoung left the chat

hoseok: lmfaooao

hoseok added sooyoung to the chat

hoseok: ok so as i was saying EMERGENCY

hoseok: because they’re IGNORING EACH OTHER

jimin: and?

hoseok: well we fix it

seokjin: you mean you fix it and we just do what you say

hoseok: that’s exactly what i meant

jimin: can we hang out later

hoseok: to do what

jimin: :)

jungkook: get a room

jimin: that’s what im trying to do (unsent)

jungkook: OH OKAY

hoseok: 🗿

seokjin: run that back turbo

jimin: if you gunna fans don’t stop —

jungkook: ain’t no size 27 jeans fans here

hoseok: 🗿

seokjin: can you stop with that fucking emoji

jimin: 🗿




They don’t see each other the day after, or the day after that, or for the next three days, and Yoongi’s on edge.

“So how’s it going with Namjoon?” someone he literally never met before asks him in the hallway as he gets back from class.

“Huh?” he says confused, turning his head to the source of the words.

“I heard you two talked it out,” the stranger says with a smile, like they’re friends. “I love that you finally stopped talking shit about each other.”

“I don’t know where you heard that but,” Yoongi starts, feeling immensely sorry for himself. “We really haven’t.”

“Well, aren’t you working together?”

“I guess, but —”

He just shrugs and then pats him on the back. “Looking forward to your comic.”

He eventually walks away and Yoongi is left confused, standing in the middle of the hallway, but then he shrugs it off and leaves too, that stranger’s words lingering in the back of his mind.




“Thanks for that,” Hoseok says, handing him a hot chocolate.

“No problem. Free food and a good cause? Always available.”

He fist bumps him and then leaves, holding his drink with one hand. Hoseok takes his phone out.

(to: jin (don’t annoy might blow me up)) do your part

(from: jin (don’t annoy might blow me up)) you’re an evil genius

(to: jin (don’t annoy might blow me up)) i know




Yoongi enters his room and the first thing he does is collapse on the bed and direct his eyes to the ceiling.

“Hi to you too,” Seokjin says from his desk, turning around in his chair. He’s chewing on a pen. Yoongi makes a mental note not to ask him for pens ever.

“Mhm,” is all he says, without bothering to look at him.


“God.” He rubs his face with his hands. “Yes.”

“What did you even do?” Seokjin asks sarcastically.

“I woke up, for one.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and scoffs at his total lack of a spinal cord.

“Anything interesting happen?”

He thinks about it with a frown on his face. He didn’t do anything in particular today. Does he know anything Yoongi doesn’t?

“No?” he asks tentatively, finally rolling on his side to face him.

“Okay. Cool cool cool.”

“Why, poor man’s Jake Peralta?”

“I heard two girls in class talk about you and Namjoon,” he says casually. “They kept saying how weird it was for you to work together, but then one of them said she’s excited to read it if you ever finish it. You two made it to STEM students.”

“Fuck.” Yoongi hides his face in the pillow, and when he speaks again it’s barely audible. “I knew it was weird people just stopped asking me.”

“What’s the issue?” Seokjin starts playing with his pen between his fingers. “You fucked the hate out of your systems.”

Yoongi groans in the pillow. “This is so humiliating.”

“Have you talked at all these past few days?”

“No, and I was trying to keep it that way, but looks like that’s out of the window now,” Yoongi mutters, closing his eyes. “Fuck my life.”

“You should get the band-aid off. See him and then do your thing.”

He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do when he inevitably sees Namjoon again. Insult him, probably. Tell him he’s annoying. Punch him. Die of embarrassment, stay there and suffer inside while he says some dumb shit about how he’s so hot he couldn’t keep it in his pants, and then die again.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks when Yoongi lies there still for more than two minutes.

He grunts something inaudible in response, still trying to figure out how to die of a quick and painless death. Seokjin glances at his phone.

(to: koala man) he’s having an existential crisis

(from: koala man) another win for the gays :)

Chapter Text

“Everyone in the library in ten minutes,” Hoseok says ten seconds after bumping into Sooyoung in the hallway. “Emergency matchmaking agency meeting. Tell the others.”

“What makes you think I have the power to gather all of them?”

“Because you’re scary and they listen to you.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”




The library is really not that crowded, but Hoseok and his emergency plans almost managed to contribute to half of the people that are filling up the place.

“I feel like I should go say something to him.”

Taehyung winces before speaking. “You have a death wish, dude.”

“I’m not gonna ask him about Namjoon. I just want to — I don’t know, test the waters.”

“I would say you shouldn’t even look at him,” Jimin comments, glancing at Yoongi, who’s sitting a couple of tables away from them. He’s glaring at whatever he’s sketching, and his body language has never looked less welcoming.

“I’m gonna go.”

“Hobi —”

“I’m not gonna ask about that,” Hoseok assures as he stands up and takes a deep breath. “Marketing analysis.”

They all look at him in horror as he makes his way to Yoongi. Jimin barely holds back a sigh. Hoseok trots to his table and stops at his side. The whole group collectively holds their breaths.

“Hey,” he starts saying with a neutral expression. “So, have you seen him yet?”

“You fucking idiot,” Jungkook whisper-yells from his chair, just as Taehyung lets out a groan and Sooyoung shakes her head to herself. “I knew it.”

Yoongi looks up from his tablet. Hoseok almost jumps on the spot when he sees the glare on his face.

“Who?” he asks, the Apple pencil in his hand still dangerously pressed to the screen.

“Uh.” Hoseok blinks a couple of times, before he decides taking a step back would be the best course of action to avoid any injuries. “Nobody.”

“Good.” Yoongi’s eyes go back to the screen.

He tries to spy on what he’s doing, only to find himself slightly uncomfortable once his eyes spot a puppet being strangled.

“Are you…” he trails off before finishing the sentence, “like, okay?”

“There isn’t a single thing wrong with my life,” he states in a monotone. He erases the noose around the puppet’s neck and draws it again, this time tighter. “I’m peachy.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he tentatively says.

Yoongi doesn’t comment anything, but he draws a knife stabbing the poor figure in the stomach. Hoseok’s eyes widen. He slowly backs away from the table and goes back to the others, still disturbed.

“What did he say?” Taehyung asks, playing with a pen in between his fingers. “You’re a moron.”

“He was drawing, uh.” Hoseok pauses. “A puppet being killed?”

“Well, he’s mad,” Jungkook points out and yeah, no shit.

“No shit,” Hoseok says out loud, earning a glare from him.

“Don’t try that attitude with me, I’ll fuck you u–”

“Okay,” Taehyung interrupts him, covering his mouth with his hand. “It’s alright.”

“Get off me,” Jungkook manages to say after he smacks his hand away. “Animal.”

“Aww,” Jimin coos from behind a screenplay full of lines highlighted in yellow. “So cute.”

“I’ll fuck you up too along with your boyfr–”

Taehyung covers his mouth again and Sooyoung starts laughing out of nowhere, so they all collectively look at her.

“What?” she says, hiding her lips with her arm.

“We thought you drowned in those equations,” Seokjin says, appearing from the chair next to Jungkook. “I barely noticed you were here.”

“Pot. Kettle. Black.” Sooyoung frowns and goes back to her notebook. “I was literally the one who brought you here. Bye.”

“So where the fuck is Namjoon then?” Jimin asks among their chatter, putting down the stack of sheets he was holding.

“In our room.” Hoseok sighs. “He’s writing. They’re so stubborn.”

“I’d be embarrassed too, if all it took for me to fuck a person I claimed to hate was ten minutes with them.” Jimin shrugs, his arms crossed on his chest. “I mean, just saying.”

“They’re still keeping it up. I don’t get it.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and sneaks a hand under the table until he reaches Hoseok’s thigh. Hoseok almost goes red in the middle of the library.

“You worry too much about them,” Jimin whispers in his ear once he makes sure everyone else is distracted. “Let them deal with their own things.”

“They just need some guidance.” He swallows, looking down to where Jimin’s hand is resting on his leg. “That’s all.”

“I say we leave,” Jimin starts, fixing Hoseok’s hair behind his ear, “and think about it later. How’s that?”

“Your ideas are not that bad sometimes,” he replies, a small but slightly shaky smile appearing on his lips. Jimin’s hand keeps slowly moving further up.

Sooyoung looks up just as they leave their chairs and raises an eyebrow at the way Hoseok’s face is clearly flushed, though in the end she doesn’t say anything.

“I gotta go,” Hoseok says abruptly, standing way too close to Jimin, who’s nonchalantly nodding at his words. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“You’re the president of this stupid operation and you’re leaving?” Jungkook asks.

“You’ll be fine,” he exclaims as Jimin drags him away from the room.

“It’s really funny how they think we haven’t noticed,” Taehyung mutters while he continues scrolling through his Instagram feed. Jungkook shakes his head.

“You all make me feel so single,” Sooyoung comments flatly, her eyes not even leaving her homework. “One day I’ll fuck around and date Seokjin.”

Seokjin almost chokes on his own breath at those words. “Who told you I would let you?”

She offers him a tight-lipped and sarcastic smile, which makes Taehyung snort.

“Dating is overrated.”

Jungkook glares at him. “Excuse me?”




Namjoon sighs for the fourth time in less than five minutes, staring at the screen of his laptop with death in his eyes. He’s been working on the same fifty words for more than an hour now, his mind too distracted. He keeps thinking about literally everything but what he’s writing, and whatever he does write ends up being terrible. He can’t focus. It’s like he unlearned how to be a decent writer in the last week or so.

What’s even worse, though, is that the only issues he’s been having are exclusively restricted to his own book. Assignments and everything else are fine. His brain just decided he shouldn’t have nice things anymore.

He crosses his arms on his chest, his back slowly sinking down in the chair until the angle and the light hitting it stop him from seeing the screen.

The truth is he knows what it is that his brain keeps thinking.

Which is infuriating.

He doesn’t want to think about it, but his thoughts always hit the same image, every time he closes his eyes. It’s always the same thing, the same subject, the same situation. He hates it, and he doesn’t know how to get rid of it.

His body seems to follow his gloomy mood, almost slumping down on his chair. His eyes fixated on his computer screen, he tries again to direct his thoughts to the task at hand to no avail. He can’t stand it. It was one thing when it was only affecting his late night fantasies, but this? He can’t let it ruin writing for him.

He feels annoyance suddenly building up in his chest when his mind strays from the book once again and goes into dangerous territory for the umpteenth time this week.

He allows himself to sigh deeply when a thought crosses his mind. His hand slowly tugs at the waist of his own sweatpants, but then stops. That would be climbing one more step on the sad loser stairs. It wouldn’t even work.

Never hurts to try, though. It’s not like anyone would know. Right?

His eyelids flutter shut as he slips his hand in, though he doesn’t move it instantly. He sighs one last time and finally gives up, beginning to stroke himself with slow fingers. His breath hitches instantly.

His own embarrassment quickly dissipates the more he embraces the fantasy. He throws his head back, biting his lower lip, and keeps stroking his own length, his thoughts a mess of moans and fingers digging into his skin and that stupid hair he hates so much but somehow can’t get out of his head.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

His breath slightly speeds up as his thumb brushes against his leaking tip and blood starts rushing to it.

“Just fuck me already.”

Namjoon almost lets out a whimper, his hand mentally replaced with those tight walls he can’t stop fantasizing about. He thinks about how desperate he looked as he fucked him into the mattress, how hopeless the quiet sounds he kept making sounded. He’s close now, so close, as he gently rubs his dick and feels the heat building up in his stomach.

He keeps wandering with his mind, the same scene playing in his head over and over like a short movie. He imagines him tight and clenching around him, his body instead of his fingers, tries to focus on the mere thought of how he took it so amazingly well, as if he needed it to keep from falling apart.

When they come together in his head, he reaches his own climax, spilling his cum all over his hand embarrassingly fast. He takes a deep breath, trying to get back to the real world.

Quietly standing up without even closing the Word document on his laptop, he goes to the bathroom to wash his hands. As he stares at his own reflection in the mirror he physically cringes, feeling ashamed of what he’s done.

He closes his eyes for a second, attempting to let his body relax. The same scene pops up in his head, so he growls in frustration, his fingers holding on to the sides of the white sink and almost turning into the same color.

It’s incredible how they’re not even on the same floor, and he’s still managing to infuriate him. He curses under his breath. Before he can control his own actions, anger does it for him, and he’s out the door.




Yoongi keeps staring at the ceiling, his sketchbook abandoned next to him on the bed. He tried again, and it didn’t work, so he stopped trying. He keeps wondering how different it could’ve been if only they got along. If only that didn’t happen. If only —

But it happened, however much he desires to deny it. He just needs to come to terms with it. He hates that he has to.

The more he thinks about it, the more it feels like he’s going mad. He can’t get it out of his mind. It all comes back to them on that stupid bed, and how he didn’t even manage to get him to back off, how he wanted it, how he wanted it so bad that he’s ashamed of it.

He feels like a good part of his life is falling apart. Some of his grades have dropped — have been for a while now — his art took a turn for the worse, he doesn’t know what he’s feeling, and he had sex with his arch nemesis, who also happens to be his partner for one of the most important things in his life. A partner he chose willingly.

Like a fucking idiot.

He closes his eyes, trying to relax, and mostly failing at doing so, until someone knocks on their door and he’s startled by it. He sits up on the bed, glancing at the clock. Seokjin told him he wasn’t gonna come back until late and it’s not even seven; plus he has his key. His other friends generally text him before dropping by.

He slowly gets up from the mattress and curses the day whoever chose the doors decided not to add peepholes. As he opens it, he freezes on the spot.

Namjoon walks in without waiting for any kind of invitation after closing the door behind himself, and slams Yoongi against the wooden surface, grabbing his shoulders and making him let out a pained noise.

“So you forgot about my existence for a week,” Namjoon starts, his voice low and angry. “Really polite, Yoongi.”

He hesitates before replying, the shock of having him so close into his personal space so suddenly getting to him. He recovers from it quickly and glares at him, trying to stand up straight in the little space he has.

“You didn’t talk to me either, you know?”

“I literally don’t give a shit who did what.” He forcefully takes his face in his hands and brings their mouths close until they brush, a brief contact of skin on skin that sends a shiver down Yoongi’s spine. “I just can’t fucking stand you and your stupid face.”

Before he can react, Namjoon crashes his lips against his, pushing him against the wall until his back is flattened on it. His knee slips between Yoongi’s legs and he combs his hands through his hair.

Yoongi lets him, too taken aback at first, though when he gets the hang of what is happening he reciprocates almost instantly. He didn’t realize just how much he’d missed that kind of contact, and now that it’s in front of him he doesn’t think he knows how to put an end to it.

“If you can’t stand me, why are you here?” Yoongi exhales, irritated, when they separate for air and he’s panting on his lips, painfully aware of the growing hard on in his own sweatpants.

“Stop asking questions I don’t know the answer to,” he snaps, letting go of his head. “Stop fucking talking and let me suck your dick.”

Yoongi thinks he forgot how to breathe for a second as Namjoon gets down on his knees and pulls his pants down, followed by his boxers. He wraps his fingers around his semi-hard erection and licks the whole length, leaving a trail of saliva behind. Yoongi keeps staring at him with wide eyes, the activity in his brain almost reaching a halt.

Namjoon smears the precum that started leaking around his tip with his thumb, his other hand cupping his balls before joining his right one in stroking the base. When he’s satisfied with it, he slowly gets it into his mouth, and Yoongi groans at the feeling of his lips closing in on it, his head thrown back against the wall.

He hollows his cheeks and sucks on it, but doesn’t start moving until a couple of seconds later, the anticipation making Yoongi squirm. He watches as his head repeats the same movement, the feeling of his plump lips and his tongue swirling all around his dick completely overwhelming his senses.

Without warning, Namjoon takes the whole length in until the tip hits the back of his throat and his hands, still touching the base, hit his own lips. When he gradually pulls back, barely managing not to gag but earning a deep moan from the other nonetheless, Yoongi’s dick is covered in spit again, a trail of it going all the way to Namjoon’s mouth. His lips are red and swollen, and his gaze is blurry when he looks up and their eyes lock.

Yoongi keeps lightly panting against the wall, his hands still pressed on the surface. On a whim, he brings them to Namjoon’s head and combs them through his hair, grabbing it to send him back down on his dick. Namjoon moans around it, taken aback by his manhandling, but he recovers fast from it and then he’s sucking down on it again. He ends up getting his mouth fucked as Yoongi slowly thrusts into him, making him gag before he can control himself. It’s a mess of saliva and spit, but he makes it work, sending his tongue out to whatever he can reach, and Yoongi keeps whimpering with each motion he performs.

He lets go of his erection and his fingers wrap around it one more time as he gets out of Yoongi’s grip, exploiting the sudden weakness in his knees to make him turn around and send him against the wall with his back to him.

Before Yoongi can get anything out other than a pained whine, he’s stroking his dick again, his arm reaching to his stomach from behind as he spreads his ass cheeks with his free hand and sinks his tongue into him.

Yoongi moans louder, his back slightly shivering as he holds on to the wall with his palms open and Namjoon eats his ass out and jerks him off at the same time, his tongue swirling around his hole and up to his balls and then back down.

Yoongi keeps trembling and letting out these obscene moans that go straight to Namjoon’s brain and through his ears, sending him close to the edge as his thumb squeezes his tip.

Namjoon’s head snaps back and before Yoongi can react he finds himself free of his grip and panting against the wall, his forehead covered in his sweat, as Namjoon walks straight to his nightstand.

“First drawer,” he breathes out, impatience filling him up to the brim. “It’s there.”

He opens it and what seems like an infinity later he’s back behind Yoongi. After hastily putting on a condom and squeezing the cold gel out of the bottle, he lets everything fall on the bed and lines up his lube coated dick with his entrance, teasing around it before finally satisfying his wait. He lets out a moan just as Yoongi does, the feeling of his ass welcoming him completely numbing his senses.

It almost knocks him out right there, after waiting on it for so long, and as he starts thrusting into him, his hands holding on to his hips, he can’t even straight anymore.

“Shit,” he exhales on Yoongi’s back, using his hands on his hips to guide him on his dick as he repeatedly sinks more and more into him with each swift motion.

Yoongi’s surprised he’s managing to stand up at all, his hands abandoned on the flat surface in front of him as his eyes roll back in pleasure, the initial pain long gone when Namjoon finally hits his prostate, making him almost drop down on his knees.

Namjoon closes his fingers on Yoongi’s throbbing erection one more time, stroking it fast as he slams into him in an unlikely synchrony that’s sending both to a point of no return. They’re both close, the arousal from all the foreplay quickly building up along with each thrust.

Namjoon groans one last time before he comes undone inside him, releasing into the condom, but he keeps thrusting and stroking him for that couple of seconds needed until Yoongi’s cum drips all over his fingers, coating them in stickiness.

Yoongi’s knees finally give out just as Namjoon slips out of him, his legs hitting the floor and his forehead resting against the wall while he regains his breath. His pants are still around his ankles on the ground, abandoned at his feet.

Namjoon throws out the condom and slumps down next to him, his back rested against the wall.

His breathing still heavy, he closes his eyes as he tries to come back from the fast orgasm he just experienced, but his process is interrupted by Yoongi straddling his lap and attacking his lips again in a furious kiss, which Namjoon manages to give back. He slips his hands under his shirt and his fingers touch his abs and stomach before he takes the whole clothing item off.

“What the fuck are we even doing?” he mutters on his lips, barely managing to breathe, to which Yoongi shakes his head and takes off Namjoon’s shirt before joining their lips again.

“I have no fucking idea,” he snaps when they separate once again. “I’m tired of caring about this. Let me —”

He takes Namjoon’s underwear off his legs completely and then his mouth is on him, so Namjoon’s brain switches off.




“So are we ever gonna talk about this, or?”

“No.” Yoongi pulls his pants back up and throws Namjoon’s shirt at him. “Put your stuff on, I’m hungry.”

“Fine,” Namjoon says, as annoyed as can be. “Dumbass.”

“Do you ever know when to shut up?” Yoongi snaps as his head appears again out of the collar of his shirt. “Whore.”

“I’m the whore? So are we gonna forget about you sucking my dick like twenty minutes ago?”

“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do, since you sucked mine first,” Yoongi grunts, opening the door with the same grace of an elephant. “You were so mad just because we didn’t talk for like a week, did you miss me that much? Great track record for someone who hates me so much.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly tell me to back off, or did I miss it?” Namjoon shoots back, walking next to him while gesturing around with his hands. “There you go.”

“Oh God, close that fucking mouth for once.”

“You wanted it just as much as I did,” Namjoon whispers under his breath, attracting Yoongi’s attention. “So don’t think you’re much better than me.”

“What was that?” he asks, a mocking expression in place. “Did I hear it right? You wanted it? Didn’t think you’d admit it so fast.”

“I said you wanted it too, in case you only heard what felt useful to you,” Namjoon says, annoyed. “Coward.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi says, smacking his arm. “They’re in hearing distance and this stays between us.”

Namjoon lets out a whine and shoves an elbow in his stomach, smiling in satisfaction when he gets the same reaction out of him as they walk into the cafeteria.

“Keep your distance,” Yoongi warns him under his breath.

They approach the table where all of their friends, minus Seokjin who’s probably still out wherever, are sitting and eating, a quiet chatter coming from it.

They all stop talking, however, when Sooyoung looks up and touches Hoseok’s arm, making him look up in return.

“Hey,” Yoongi says quietly, seeing they’re all looking at them.

“What the fuck are you idiots staring at?” Namjoon grunts, glaring at Sooyoung.

“Nothing,” Taehyung says, a subtle grin on his face.

“Absolutely nothing,” Jungkook adds as he steals the salad Taehyung left behind from his plate.

“I was about to eat that!”

“Sure you were,” he replies, holding his plate out of his reach.

“So what brings you here?” Hoseok says, clearly trying not to smile too widely.

“Food?” Namjoon says. “Why else would I be here? Or did a koala eat your brain?”

“Rude,” Hoseok says sadly. Jimin pats him on the shoulder.

Yoongi keeps standing awkwardly next to Namjoon, painfully aware of how close they are, so he steps back, trying to make it look casual, and slips out to go get food in silence.

Namjoon glares one last time at them and then walks away, suddenly hungry.

“This is so humiliating,” he mutters once he reaches Yoongi. “Since when are they all friends anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says in a dry tone, eyeing the food. “They’re bonding over their obsession with our lives. Now for the love of god, stop talking, you’re irritating me.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and takes off to get something to eat as far away from him as possible.




hoseok changed the chat name to emergency over?

hoseok: hello wasted sperm

seokjin: um–

hoseok: they fucked again

hoseok: they didn’t say anything but we all know it right

taehyung: yeah they did

jimin: yeah

jimin: they were standing far too close

hoseok: and that tension between them? whew

jungkook: yeah jimin you would know wouldn’t you

jimin: what


jungkook: don’t think we didn’t notice


seokjin: what

jimin: and?

sooyoung: ooo drama

taehyung: baby shut up

jungkook: idc

jungkook: just thought we were friends

jimin: we are

hoseok: ...

jungkook: you get a boyfriend and don’t even tell me

jimin: he’s not my boyfriend

sooyoung: 🤡

seokjin: 🤡

jimin: i’m serious lmao

jimin: we’re just fucking

hoseok: oh

jimin: what

hoseok: nothing

seokjin: well

jungkook: .....fine

hoseok: yeah lol

sooyoung: hobi

sooyoung: you ok?

hoseok: fine

hoseok: i have a routine to practice

hoseok: bye

sooyoung: um–

jungkook: did i say something i shouldn’t have

jimin: no it’s fine

jimin: i gotta go

jungkook: uh

sooyoung: :/

seokjin: jimin you fucking moron if i hear your bitch ass hurt hoseok i’ll blow you up and scatter your ashes in a toilet

sooyoung: why did yoongi agree to be roommates with you....

seokjin: :)




Yoongi closes the door behind him, and his eyes inevitably go to the floor, the scene replaying in his mind over and over. Why is he still thinking about it? What is it that made his dick decide it was gonna take over as commander of his brain?

His ass still hurts from it, but he can’t stop picturing it. He’d never admit it to anyone ever, but it was mind-blowing. He doesn’t get laid a lot as it is, but that was probably the best sex he’s had in pretty much forever. Two times in a row. The second time was even better.

Which means they’ve now had sex three times, which is three times more than he’s comfortable with. The more he dwells on it, the more he feels like his life is turning upside down.

What’s worse is that while it was happening he felt perfectly at ease. It was like having sex with your long term partner, and he doesn’t get it.

Denying he’s attracted to Namjoon feels like a blatant lie at this point, but even once you acknowledge that, nothing makes sense anyway. He still despises him, no matter how much he wants to fuck him; if anything, their mutual hatred only makes it even more appealing. He loved seeing him so worked up because of him, and being the outlet for his anger to come out. The name calling, the hair pulling, and the roughness of it all only added to it. If that makes him a sadist, then so be it. He’s aware he likes it painful.

So, maybe they have chemistry in bed. Or on the floor, depending on the situation. Does that necessarily need to translate to everyday life? He’s pretty sure it doesn’t, so he’s just gonna have to rationalize it happened and force himself to be okay with it. What’s done is done. He’ll only have to work with him until the comic is finished, anyway. He can control himself.

Or at least that’s what he thinks. The problem is he’s not sure he doesn’t want to do it again.




As he gets out of his last class the next day, his phone lights up, so he stops in the hallway to take a look.

(from: unknown number) hello

(from: unknown number) can i give namjoon your phone number

He frowns at the screen, wondering where the hell that came from.

(to: unknown number) wtf no

(to: unknown number) also who’s this

(from: unknown number) oh it’s hoseok

(from: unknown number) your favorite person on campus <3

(to: wendy williams) my what– you know what nvm

(to: wendy williams) how the fuck did you get it in the first place

(to: wendy williams) also still no

(from: wendy williams) i asked jin

(from: wendy williams) listen. namjoon is looking for you and i can’t stand him anymore

(to: wendy williams) i’m not giving him my number. where is he

(from: wendy williams) our room

(from: wendy williams) he said to “bring your art shit”

He doesn’t bother replying to that and frowns instead. Among the chaos in his mind, he’d forgotten about the comic for a moment. The fact Namjoon remembered and he didn’t is worrying.

Against his better judgment, he actually goes to his room to get his stuff and then drags himself out of spite to Namjoon’s place, praying Hoseok is there.

“It’s open!”

Yoongi pushes the door and lets himself in. His heart sinks when Namjoon is sitting alone on his bed with his back against the wall, laptop on his legs.

“Do you two ever lock this stupid door, or?” Yoongi asks, looking directly at him. He knows he’s nervous, and he hates it. When has he ever been nervous around Namjoon? “People steal, you know.”

Namjoon’s eyes shoot up, but his expression doesn’t change. “No.”

“I can’t wait until someone gets Hoseok’s guitar.”

“That’s mean,” he replies, a curious spark in his eyes as his back straightens. “He really loves that guitar.”

“Like you would know about being mean. He loves intruding in people’s shit way more.”

Namjoon ignores his first remark. “If you’re talking about the phone number, I was the one who asked him.”

“Why do you even want it?” he asks, frowning. “To write it in a bathroom stall?”

“Because I had an idea and you weren’t in your room, and I don’t want to run around the whole campus to find your stupid ass,” Namjoon grunts, his arms crossed on his chest. “But I might do that too, now that you put the idea in my mind.”

“You had an idea?” Yoongi says sarcastically. “Wow. Time to celebrate.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon snaps. “Are you gonna stand like a moron in front of the door some more, or what?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and closes the door behind him.

“Where should I sit? Next to you?” he adds, his voice coming out defeated. He doesn’t want to sit next to him. Does he really have to?

“There’s always the floor. You’re used to that.”

“Oh my god,” he says, annoyed. “No one gives a shit. Where’s Hoseok?”

He dumps his stuff on the bed and then finally gives up and settles next to him, the mattress slightly moving under his weight. Namjoon glances at him and licks his lips.

“I don’t know, he left saying something about Jimin bringing him somewhere, who cares. Can we do this?”

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “What’s this idea that was so important?”

“Okay, so.” Namjoon moves a bit on the bed to sit cross-legged, facing Yoongi, and shows him the computer screen. “We got the first two chapters, right?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi nods, glad they’re finally making some progress and stopped talking about... that. “So?”

“I forgot about giving him an antagonist, so I got this journalist that thinks there’s something fishy and wants to take him down. Maybe give her a tragic backstory like she was the victim of an earthquake and the government didn’t do anything to help rebuild her block or something. I don’t know, I need to find something like that.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi admits, feeling somewhat dumb that he didn’t think of it first. He takes his iPad and starts drawing the first lines of a sketch. “I forgot too. Wait.”

“Short hair? I feel like she’d have short hair,” he adds, giving the now forming face a brown pixie cut.

“Make her bald,” Namjoon says with a smirk. “Or a buzzcut.”

“Why?” Yoongi asks, though he does what he said anyway. “Uh. That does look better.”

“I know.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at his arrogance, but the energy in the room suddenly feels off. “Shouldn’t we include her in the second chapter? I feel like it’s too late to introduce her now.”

“I guess.” Namjoon rests his elbow on his leg and his chin on the palm of his hand, observing Yoongi work with a fascinated look in his eyes, but he abruptly looks away before speaking again. Yoongi notices, and his heart does something he doesn’t like. “Like when he hijacks that conference, we could add she was watching it on the news and go from there.”

Yoongi nods, feeling weirdly uneasy at how well Namjoon’s input is making his brain work. It’s been a long while since he had a coherent plot point come to his mind, and the fact it’s happening with him of all people should feel way more uncomfortable.

“You drew her with four fingers.”

“Shit, I did. Fuck. Sorry.”

Namjoon looks at him with a scowl, taken aback by his words. The air is oddly tense all of a sudden, and while it’s always been like that whenever they walk in the same room together, it’s a different kind of tense – it’s awkward, most of all, and they’ve never been awkward around each other. Straight up hostile, sure. Awkward, though, that’s a first, and it’s safe to say neither of them likes it at all.

“You’re just gonna say sorry like that?”

“Why? Is there another more appropriate way to say it?” Yoongi answers, irritated. Finally, it’s like a switch being flipped, and the anger they’re much more comfortable with is back.

“I’m just saying,” Namjoon says with a sly grin. “You’re so tame and bearable today. What happened to you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Namjoon,” he snaps, putting down the pencil and then picking it up again. “Don’t even start.”

The taller boy scoffs and places his laptop on the floor before he’s turning back to Yoongi again. “Yeah? Why don’t you make me?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen for a brief moment, but he regains his composure almost immediately when he answers.

“I knew I should have asked Seokjin for chloroform this morning,” he states bluntly. “Would’ve made disposing of your body so much easier.”

Namjoon keeps staring at him, his smile now a knowing smirk that’s irritating Yoongi to no end.

“Stop staring at me,” he exclaims, the tablet forgotten on his legs.

“And what if I don’t?”

“You’re getting on my goddamn nerves,” Yoongi mutters as Namjoon leans in from where he’s sitting, getting into his personal space. “Get off me.”

He ignores his last words and takes his face in his hands instead, bringing his lips to the shell of his ear. Yoongi reluctantly lets him, unable to fight him off.

Get off me ? You weren’t saying that last night, though, were you?” he murmurs, making Yoongi swallow.


“Fucking annoying,” is all he says before their lips meet.

Despite the situation, he kisses him back after a moment of shock. It’s infuriating, how Namjoon never ever listens to him and thinks he can do whatever he desires at all times, but Yoongi wants it too. He missed it, kissing him, however weird that sounds, and so he lets himself get lost in it.

Namjoon wastes no time lying on the bed and dragging Yoongi down with him. The pencil he was holding in his fingers hits the floor with a dull noise and his tablet slips out on the bed, and they’re kissing so closely and with so much fervor that they end up pressed against each other just like the day before.

Namjoon’s lips never leave his skin for one second, from his lips to his neck and collarbone as his hands slide under his shirt, taking his breath away.

“That damn pencil is expensive,” Yoongi says dryly, his eyes closing while Namjoon switches their positions and jumps on his legs, wasting no time before his lips are on Yoongi’s neck again. “If the tip broke I’ll fucking kill you.”

“That’s not my problem,” he breathes out between one kiss and the next. Yoongi squirms under his touch. “I literally couldn’t care less right now.”




“Are we gonna talk about this whole thing now?” Namjoon exhales, his brain still catching up with reality after yet another shared orgasm while Yoongi collapses next to him.

He pauses for a while before saying anything, trying to get his lungs back to their normal workload. He’s trying to think clearly, but it’s not working out.

“Say whatever the fuck it is that you need to say,” he finally replies, staring at the ceiling. “And get it over with.”

“I think you’re insufferable,” he starts as he sits up again and straddles his lap, placing the palm of his hands on the bed on either side of him so he’s towering over him. Yoongi just glares at him. “But we work well together.”

“So, what you’re saying is, your dick and my ass work well together,” he replies flatly, unfazed by the way Namjoon decided to stand over him even though they’re both still naked. He’s still weirded out by how comfortable they are with each other when they’re not wearing clothes, but he’s going to think about that when he’s alone.

“No.” Namjoon glares back. “I mean, yes, but we work well together. We have something great on our hands.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi finally admits, his gaze almost softening despite himself. “We do.”

“And I don’t know why this,” he says, gesturing with one hand at the space between them as he finally stands up and gets both of their boxers back, “keeps happening, but it’s clearly working too.”

Yoongi puts his own underwear back on. Namjoon retrieves the pencil he made him drop on the floor earlier and hands it to him. “It didn’t break.”

Yoongi nods as he gets dressed. “I do marginally tolerate you more after we fuck. It doesn’t last long, though.”


They glare at each other for a couple of seconds, until Yoongi looks away. None the wiser, Namjoon just shrugs.

“If it works, why stop?” he says eventually.


“We have trouble interacting without screaming at each other. Let’s put that energy into something else.” When Yoongi raises an eyebrow, he adds, “For the comic’s sake. And for both our inspirations.”

“What do you mean, both ?” he asks, surprising even himself as he does it. Since when does he care about Namjoon’s inspiration? “You’re stuck too?”

“Kind of,” Namjoon just says, probably trying not to give it away. “I have trouble sometimes.”

Yoongi shrugs, like it doesn’t really affect him. “Well, I just want this to be decent.“

“It will be more than decent. We don’t even need to interact more than we have to anyway.”

“Who said I want to?” Yoongi asks, irritated. “It’s enough that I’m here right now.”

“I didn’t imply that, but fine, have at it.” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Not that I want to either.”

“Great. Now let me finish that stupid sketch so we can start the pages with a decent reference.”

“Fine,” Namjoon mutters as they move Yoongi’s stuff to the desk. “Can I have your phone number now?”


He frowns. Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him, still wondering how he ended up like this. The person who hates him the most wants his phone number.


“You’re gonna write it in a bathroom stall,” Yoongi supplies weakly, unable to come up with a better excuse. “I get enough spam as it is.”

“I’m not going to do it, you idiot. I was kidding.”

“Were you kidding when you threw my records out too?”

Namjoon sighs. “Are we still on that?”

“Yes, what the hell?”

He hides his face in his hands, and when he appears again, he looks kind of tired, as if he doesn’t want to have this conversation.

“I’m sorry about that, alright? I was going through stuff and I took it out on you. I'm apologizing. Will you drop it now?”

“Kim Namjoon saying sorry? Never thought I’d see the day,” Yoongi mutters, though it’s taken him by surprise, positively. Not that he’d say it out loud. “But yeah, fine. It’s not like I was that much better.”

Namjoon hums a non committal noise and scoots closer to him. Before Yoongi can say anything, he places a hand on his face and gently strokes his fingertips on his cheek. Yoongi feels frozen in place, and slightly horrified.

“What are you doing?”

His fingers are soft, and the next thing he feels is Namjoon’s lips on him again. He kisses him back at first, confused, but not even three seconds in he pushes him away.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, irritated again.

“I felt like it,” Namjoon deadpans, shrugging. Yoongi stares at him, and they hold each other’s gazes until he sighs and gives up.

“Give me your fucking phone.”

Chapter Text

“My room in ten minutes?”

Yoongi looks up from the textbook he was studying on, and when he sees who just interrupted him, he makes a point of rolling his eyes as viciously as possible.

“What is it now that can’t wait a day?”

Namjoon takes a chair out of the table without being invited, which irritates Yoongi even more. The library should be his stress-free area, given that you shouldn’t talk in it. You’d think a writer like Namjoon would know that, but when does he ever follow the rules? Yoongi genuinely finds he tolerates him less and less as the days go by.

“Plot point,” Namjoon informs him, voice low. At least he’s not shouting it out. “Don’t make that face. You weren’t replying to my texts.”

“Because I’m studying, Namjoon.” He lets out a heavy sigh and puts down the pencil he had in his hand, already aware his study session is over. “Something you don’t know how to do, apparently.”

“I’m a fast learner.”

“You’re a fast asshole.”

“What does that even mean?” Namjoon takes a deep breath. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. Just listen to me.”

“I’m all ears, your majesty,” Yoongi muses sarcastically. He knows there’s no way out of it. Might as well embrace the nuisance and run with it. “Go ahead.”

Namjoon shoves his phone in Yoongi’s hands and points at the screen. “Okay, so, check this out.”

A frown immediately appears on Yoongi’s face, but he reads it over nonetheless. It’s just a couple of paragraphs, and by the time he’s done, the expression on his face has shifted to one of surprise.

“You want me to draw another main character?”

“Yeah, why not?” Namjoon shrugs, taking his phone back. “I think he’d be a good addition. Buddy needs a sidekick.”

“Yeah, it would work,” Yoongi voices, feeling sorry for himself. He’s been agreeing with him way too often. He’s not sure he even really minds it. “Do I need to do this now?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon replies. He has enough grace not to add a duh to the end of the sentence. “You’ve studied enough.”

“Not even close,” Yoongi shoots back, but he’s already standing up and following him to his room to grab his laptop and head to Namjoon’s place.

He wasn’t even hoping Hoseok would be there, because he never is. It’s like he has a RSS feed set up to inform him of every time Yoongi is coming. Either that, or Jimin’s roommate disappeared off the face of the Earth and he’s taking advantage of it.

“You need to stop texting me constantly, by the way,” Yoongi says flatly as he enters the room after Namjoon and places his things on the desk. “I know you like to annoy me, but a week straight of texts is borderline punishable by law.”

“Would you rather I did it face to face?”

When Yoongi turns around, he finds himself staring at Namjoon from up close and his heart almost jumps out of his throat.

“Here’s a thought,” he offers, barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes again. “I’d rather you didn’t do it at all.”

“Oh, come on.” Namjoon places both of his hands on Yoongi’s hips, taking him by surprise. Yoongi looks up to meet his gaze, but doesn’t pull back. “You don’t mind the attention.”

He scoffs before replying. “I really do.”

Namjoon hums softly under his breath and leans in, until their lips brush against each other. Yoongi doesn’t look away.

“You really don’t, but that doesn’t matter right now.”

Before Yoongi can think of something else to say, Namjoon is already kissing him. He kisses him back out of spite, until Namjoon pulls away and, as if nothing happened, he turns to his phone and chuckles at it.

“We need to go back to your room.”

Yoongi clears his throat, trying not to look too out of it. “Why?”

“Seokjin is free. I need chemistry help.”

“Chemistry? And for what?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re in your senior year.”

“Oh, it’s for my next book,” he says in a dismissive voice. “Since you’re such a big fan of mine, I won’t spoil it for you.”

“I read them and then shelved them again,” Yoongi comments, irritated again. “I would hardly call that being a fan.”

“Whatever, man. Let’s just go.”

“God, you’re fucking annoying.” He follows Namjoon out of the room. “You stopped me from studying and now you’re ditching me for Seokjin?”

“Miss me already?” Namjoon says sweetly, in a clear attempt to push his buttons. Yoongi knows better.

“Goodbye, Namjoon,” he snaps at him. When Namjoon smiles at him, he curses under his breath and chooses the opposite direction to where the other boy’s going. It doesn’t matter if his destination is the library, and the library is exactly on Namjoon’s path. After all, walking is good for your health.




A text alert from Yoongi’s phone makes him check his notifications, and when he sees who it is from a sigh falls from his lips.

(from: flamingo) are you free

He rolls his eyes while his art history textbook keeps expectantly glaring at him from his desk.

(to: flamingo) i’m not. i’m studying. again.

(from: flamingo) ok stay there i’ll come

God should have cut his life short when he made the terrible decision of giving Namjoon his number. You’d think he’d try not to be constantly on his ass, but he always has something to send him, be it stupid memes, random insults, or bad rock renditions of hip hop songs, which he didn’t even know were a thing prior to this.

Someone knocks on his door, and it’s a bit sad how he immediately recognizes it’s him from the way his knuckles hit the wooden surface.

“People are infuriating,” he immediately says when Yoongi lets him in, and doesn’t even wait for him to react before he’s attacking his lips.

Yoongi kisses him back, disoriented, and Namjoon sends him straight against the door once it’s closed, all the while angrily chasing his lips with his own.

“This rude bitch in my writing class,” he starts again when they come apart for air, “is so fucking irritating she could battle you, even though you’d still win.”

“Get off me,” Yoongi grunts, shoving him aside. Namjoon regains his posture and smirks. “I was studying.”

“That’s too bad, cause I have the dialogues and stuff for another chapter,” he says, waving his phone in the air once he’s opened a Word document. “Shit happens. Don’t you want to know?”

“Later,” he mutters, sitting back down at his desk. Namjoon helps himself to another chair with the confidence of someone who knows his way around and sinks down next to him. “This stuff isn’t gonna study itself.”


“Next week,” he says, his eyes fixated on the textbook. “Leave.”

“You’re so rude.” Namjoon crosses his arms on his chest. “And annoying.”

“You just found two more reasons to leave me alone then,” Yoongi says in the same monotone, highlighting a couple of words.

“You have so much time to study that! The comic isn’t gonna draw itself.”

“Like I said already, this isn’t gonna study itself too, so either you leave, or I call Hoseok and tell him you threw away the kangaroo shirt he gave you,” he threatens, smirking when Namjoon’s face freezes.

“Fine,” he says in the end, glaring at him. “Keep being annoying on your own.”

“Thank God and every angel or whatever it is people pray to,” Yoongi says under his breath, not even bothering to look up from the page.

Namjoon storms out of the room and Yoongi sighs. He doesn’t even know anymore.




“He kicked you out?” Hoseok asks without even looking up from his phone.

“Shut up,” Namjoon says, but doesn’t deny his words.

“I wonder why you always want to spend time with him.”

“The comic,” Namjoon says flatly, “is going well. That’s all.”


“Don’t you have a whole boyfriend to annoy?” he asks rhetorically, slumping down on his bed with a sigh. “Go bother him.”

“Mhm,” he says. “Look what my friend found in Perth.”

He hands him his phone and Namjoon makes a disgusted face and throws it back at him. “Fucking hell.”

“I miss Australia.” Hoseok sighs, nostalgia in his eyes. “I had a pet spider once, but I killed him.”

“How do you make a spider into a pet?”

“I brought it home, but one day he was crawling up my arm and my brother saw him and screamed, and I screamed too, so I dropped him by accident and he slammed a flip flop on him,” he says, sadness in his eyes, before nodding to the ceiling. “Rest in peace, Gary.”

“So he killed it.”

“Details.” He frowns at his phone. “Jimin’s waiting for me outside, I gotta go.”

“Where are you two going?” he asks as Hoseok gets up from the bed and takes a look at his face in the mirror, trying to fix his hair.

“Iceage are touring Korea,” he replies, distracted. “I’m trying to get him into post punk.”

“I have no idea what that means, but okay.”

“Bye.” Hoseok opens the door. “Tell Yoongi I have a gift to give him when you see him.”

“Why do you think I’m gonna see him —”

His words get cut off by the loud noise of the door being slammed.

Namjoon sighs deeply. Okay then.




Yoongi’s mad. He doesn’t know why but he’s mad, and God help him, but if anyone even tries to breathe in his direction today, he’s gonna strangle them and then throw their corpse outside the door of that weird biology major who lives on his floor and likes to dissect frogs for no reason other than personal enjoyment.

“Did you wake up with a stick up your ass today?” Seokjin asks him in a tired voice, not even bothering to raise his head from his pillow. He doesn’t have any 8 AM classes, while Yoongi definitely does. He made so much noise trying to get dressed in a hurry that he probably woke up the whole dorm.

“Don’t start,” he growls in response while he puts his shoes on with one hand and fixes his hair in the mirror with the other. “I got that stupid exam after this class.”

“The one that made you refuse to see Namjoon for a whole week because you had to ‘study’?” he asks again with unmistakable sarcasm, heavy emphasis on the last word.

“What is it with all of you and what Namjoon and I do?” Yoongi finally manages to get both of the shoes on his feet and grabs his bag from the floor. “That one. Bye.”

Seokjin turns around on the bed, and though he’s still under the covers, his face peeks out of them and he’s smirking.

“Good luck with th—”

Before he’s even finished the sentence, Yoongi is already out of the room, stomping his way to class with death in his eyes and an unpleasant feeling in his chest.

“Fuck this shit,” he hisses under his breath, earning a worried glance by a distraught freshman wandering in the halls.

He doesn’t pay any attention to him and runs to class as fast as he can — and when he gets there, a girl is entering the room. He sighs in relief, and she looks at him. He shrugs and follows her inside, looking for his usual seat in the back of the classroom.

Barely half of the lecture has passed and he’s extremely on edge about running out of the room and going to take the exam, when his phone vibrates in his pocket and he unlocks it under the desk. The professor is still rambling about sculpting techniques he doesn’t care about and virtually nobody’s looking at him.

(from: flamingo) was that exam today

He almost sighs when he sees it. Why is Namjoon awake so early when he doesn’t have class? And why does Yoongi even know he doesn’t have class?

(to: flamingo) it is

(from: flamingo) okay

(to: flamingo) okay

(from: flamingo) god you’re annoying

(to: flamingo) go back to sleep, namjoon. i’m not in the mood

(from: flamingo) isn’t it a bit early to be already mad at nothing?

(to: flamingo) isn’t it a bit early to be already up my ass?

(to: flamingo) also you just called yourself “nothing”

(from: flamingo) i wish i was up your ass

He almost goes red in the face in the middle of the lecture.

(to: flamingo) stop texting me

(from: flamingo) when’s the exam

(to: flamingo) in an hour

(to: flamingo) i said stop texting me

(from: flamingo) and who are you to tell me what i should and shouldn’t do?

(to: flamingo) i swear to fucking god kim namjoon

(from: flamingo) i bet you’re gonna fail it

(from: flamingo) can i see you when you finish it

(to: flamingo) no

(from: flamingo) please?

It takes all of his willpower not to start making angry noises in the middle of class, but luckily nobody has noticed his mini mental breakdown yet.

(to: flamingo) please what

(from: flamingo) don’t make me say it another time

(to: flamingo) okay then. leave me alone

(from: flamingo) oh my god, i can’t stand you

(to: flamingo) why are you still here?

(from: flamingo) you know what? you’re right

(from: flamingo) hope you fail

He doesn’t even reply. He just leaves him on read and puts his phone away in his pocket. He hasn’t heard a single word the professor has said since the lecture started, but he pretends to follow anyway, just to keep his mind from wandering away to other, far more interesting places.

When he finally gets out of the exam room, he lets himself exhale, hoping he didn’t butcher too many questions. He’s actually pretty sure he did well, apart from a couple of tasks, but since he was as distracted as ever, he’s satisfied. He’s also done for the day already, his next and last class being cancelled, and that doesn’t happen very often.

He checks his phone to see if he missed anything. Sure enough, there it is, and his nerves start going crazy again.

(from: flamingo) how’d it go

(from: flamingo) so you’re just gonna ignore me?

(to: flamingo) first of all, i was having a fucking exam, and second of all, why do you care

The reply comes almost immediately, which makes him wonder just how much Namjoon really decided he wants to annoy him today that he had to be glued to his phone.

(from: flamingo) i really don’t

(to: flamingo) yet you asked?

(from: flamingo) look, just come to my room, okay?

Yoongi snorts as he walks to the library, determined to get some work done. Sure he will. As if he doesn’t have anything else to do but follow the orders of someone he doesn’t even like. He straight up ignores the text without even opening it and sits down at a table.

He’s not even five minutes deep into the topic he’s studying, when he hears noise around him and looks up to see what’s going on. His eyes land on Hoseok sitting at his table with Sooyoung and Jungkook trailing behind. Yoongi frowns at them.

“Hello to you too,” Hoseok says cheerfully, smiling at him. “What’s up?”

“Studying,” he simply says. “Or at least I was.”

“Oh, don’t let us distract you,” Jungkook says, shrugging, before he takes out his laptop and places it on the table. Then he puts on his headphones. “I have work to do.”

“Me too,” Sooyoung murmurs, but she doesn’t look convinced, like she was dragged there. “We started abstract algebra.”

“What the fuck is that?” Yoongi asks, his face already terrified at the mention of math.

“Wouldn’t I like to know.” Sooyoung places a stack of photocopies in front of her and looks at them tiredly. “I’ll tell you when I find out.”

“Damn, is it that serious?” Hoseok says, worried.


“Leave her alone, Hoseok.” Yoongi sighs. “You can annoy me instead.”

“Very funny,” Hoseok says before turning around so he’s completely facing Yoongi. “How did your exam go?”

Yoongi shrugs, slightly weirded out by the fact he remembered. “Fine. I’m sure I passed at least.”

“Good, at least Namjoon will stop complaining all day,” he replies with nonchalance, just throwing it out there.

“Namjoon does what?” Yoongi’s interest suddenly leaves his textbook and flies out of the window. “About what?”

“I have no clue.” Hoseok leans back in his chair with a shrug. “Maybe he misses you.”

“Sure he does,” Yoongi replies, already irritated. “He just lives to make my life unbearable.”

Hoseok slightly moves his body around and then he’s smiling up at someone. When Yoongi follows his gaze, he sees Jimin appeared out of nowhere behind Hoseok and he’s lowering his head to kiss him.

“You’re official now?” Yoongi asks, torn between keeping up his annoyed attitude and smiling at the fact they’re actually kind of cute.

“I guess you could say that,” he says with a smile, and then forces Sooyoung to move to the next chair to sit next to Hoseok. She glares at him, but does it anyway.

“Oh.” Yoongi bites his bottom lip, a bit of sadness flooding his chest at his words. “That’s cute.”

“Very,” Hoseok says and leaves another light kiss on Jimin’s lips.

“You’re making me sad,” Yoongi mutters, his eyes going back to his textbook. “Get a room.”

“Go to Namjoon and shut up,” Jimin replies flatly.

“What does Namjoon have to do with this?” He looks up again, a frown on his features.

“You live in so much denial it’s baffling.”

Hoseok laughs. “He’s right.”

Their words make his heart do a backflip in its cage, but they’re clearly wrong, no matter what his own emotions decide to do. Betraying him, in this case. He’s just gonna ignore them for the sake of his own sanity.

“I don’t want to hear anything about him for as long as you’re gonna stay in this library,” he snaps, going back to ignoring them again.

Hoseok and Jimin shrug and go back to their own conversation, while he pretends he’s over it. Why does everything have to be so difficult when it comes to that boy, he’ll never know.




He didn’t really mean to ignore him all day. He was studying, then he went back to his room and fell asleep, and when he woke up it was late afternoon, so he decided to draw and relax for a while, and fell asleep again.

Well, okay, so maybe he ignored him. Up to a certain point. Then he really forgot.

So it’s a bit of surprise when he checks his phone at eight in the evening and finds something like sixty unanswered texts, all from the same person, and only like twenty of them aren’t angry emojis.

(from: flamingo) well?

(from: flamingo) min yoongi

(from: flamingo) i’m gonna kill you

(from: flamingo) yoongi

(from: flamingo) okay, so we’re doing this now

(from: flamingo) fine

(from: flamingo) keep ignoring me

(from: flamingo) i don’t need your annoying ass anyway, i’m fine on my own. don’t even reply

(from: flamingo) .


(from: flamingo) YOONGI

(from: flamingo) god fucking dammit

(from: flamingo) i literally never want to see you or your ass again

(from: flamingo) ok, that was a lie, i want to see your ass

(from: flamingo) not you, though

(from: flamingo) i still hate you

(from: flamingo) god what am i doing

(from: flamingo) IN CASE YOU DIDN’T NOTICE I’M MAD

(from: flamingo) look, fuck you

(from: flamingo) i hope someone destroys the other half of your fucking records

(from: flamingo) and resells that stupid rage against the machine original pressing that you love so much

(from: flamingo) or whatever that damn thing is

It’s a shock when he realizes he finds the whole situation almost endearing. Fucking infuriating, sure, because he’s not his property, and why the fuck is he so determined to see him anyway? They fucked like, what, five times? Seven? Okay, maybe he lost count, but it’s the fundamental idea that counts, because that doesn’t give him the right to act like Yoongi doesn’t have a life of his own. Or at least sometimes he does. But that doesn’t matter, because when they fuck it’s always out of rage or to release bad feelings. It’s just that it’s slightly endearing — the fact he might miss him. Just that.

He shakes his head to himself and rubs his face with his hands. This is not what it looks like, he tells himself, because he doesn’t like Kim Namjoon. He can’t stand him. And he doesn’t like Yoongi either, because they hate each other. Why is he so obsessed with texting him? Does he really like to annoy him that much?

He stands up from his bed, his mind still slightly confused by how much he slept during the day. That really doesn’t help in his decision making process.

He sighs, already knowing what he’s going to do, because one, he’s gonna have to face him at some point, and two, he’s a weak man. Really fucking weak.

Before he can change his mind, he’s already outside his room, and this time he doesn’t even bother knocking, because he already knows it’s open. He pushes it and — sure enough, it wasn’t locked, so he steps inside and he’s met with Hoseok typing on his phone first and Namjoon frowning at his laptop second.

“So you forgot how to knock?” Hoseok says with a laugh, looking up from his phone and meeting his eyes. “Free real estate.”

“You two don’t lock it, you’re kinda asking for it,” Yoongi points out with a shrug as he closes it behind him. Namjoon still hasn’t acknowledged his presence.

Hoseok senses the tension that suddenly filled the room and stands up.

“Where the hell are you going?” Yoongi asks him, his anxiety skyrocketing.

“Uhh.” Hoseok licks his lips. “Dinner.”

“You were waiting for me to go?”

“No, you just made me remember,” he says, like a fucking liar. “I’m gonna, uh. Leave? Yeah.”

Yoongi watches him as he makes his way to the door and quickly gets out, leaving them alone in the room. He glances at Namjoon nervously. He’s still ignoring him.

“Is this how you seek revenge?” he says, his words heavy with sarcasm, when he gives no sign of wanting to look up from the screen and just keeps typing steadily.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says flatly, though his eyes darken.

“Oh my God.” Yoongi walks up to him and keeps staring at his face in the hope he’ll feel observed enough to look up. “You’re so childish.”

“You straight ignored me for a whole day and I’m childish?” he finally reacts to his words. When their eyes meet, his are fuming. “Wonder how that works.”

He’s never seen him this mad, and it almost throws him off.

“What’s your problem?” he snaps, trying to stay calm. “First you say you don’t wanna be around me, but you’re literally always on my dick.”

Namjoon quietly stands up and places his laptop on the desk, but when he turns around he’s staring at him with everything but calm. He walks up to him and takes his face in his hands in a rough gesture, pulling him to his own.

“I don’t like being ignored,” Namjoon growls slowly, his voice coming out low and in a controlled fury that’s almost scaring him. “So you’d better have a good excuse.”

“I fell asleep,” Yoongi says with no emotion in his voice, hoping to make him even angrier. “That happens to human beings sometimes.”

“The whole fucking day?” he leans closer, their lips almost touching, but not quite. “I really don’t think so.”

“Why the fuck do you care so much? You barely tolerate me, anyway.”

“I told you,” he says again, and this time he sounds even more pissed off. “I don’t like being ignored.”

He opens his mouth to say something back, but Namjoon’s lips are already on his own before he can even think of it. He pushes him on the bed with enough force to make him fall on it on his back, taking him by surprise. Yoongi tries to sit up, but he lowers his torso to push him down again with both hands, jumping on his lap and pressing their bodies together as he starts biting the skin of his neck.

Painfully aware of how hard they both are already, Yoongi lets out a pained sigh as he keeps taking his skin between his teeth and sucking on it.

“Fuck, do that again,” he says, his voice already strained, and Namjoon stops.

“Oh, so you’re one of those?” he says instead, looking at him with anger in his eyes. “You want me to hurt you or something?”

He doesn’t even know what’s happening anymore, just that it’s exactly what he wants, so he nods shakily. A voice in the back of his mind yells at him for being so easy, but he pushes it away. He’s aware of it, but he loses it every single time. He just needs to stop thinking, needs to feel his hatred on his skin and for it to be so painful he forgets his own name.

“Take off your clothes.”

Yoongi immediately does, and Namjoon watches him with dark eyes as his shirt slips out of his arms and his pants slide down his ankles and end up on the floor. He licks his lips, staring at his defined muscles and the way they seem to all direct under his underwear. He slowly lowers his body on him. His hand plays with the edge of his boxers while he makes him sit up with his other arm, until he places his lips on the shell of his ear and and shows off a complacent smirk.

“You’re just so fucking helpless right now,” he murmurs directly into his ear while his fingers tease his pelvic area, making him shiver under his touch. “You give up so quickly. Look at you. I have you wrapped around my finger.”

Namjoon kisses him with uncharacteristically slow movements. Even through the surprise, he manages to kiss back, until Namjoon takes his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down on it, so hard he lets out a groan. When he pulls back, they both have a metallic aftertaste on their tongues, and the red on Yoongi’s lips is a mix of swelling and blood.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs, the words coming out slightly muffled as he goes back to his lips, licking the blood that stains them. Yoongi can barely think straight anymore. “When I look for you, you answer. Are we clear?”

Yoongi swallows at his words, but nods regardless, extremely turned on by the power game they’re playing and the way Namjoon’s eyes are fixing him on the spot, full of lust and command. He rests his open palm on his Adam’s apple while his fingers take ahold of his jaw.


“Yeah,” he manages to get out, almost stuttering. His skin feels on fire, but he doesn’t dare moving.

“Yeah what?” he growls on his lips, his free hand still wandering around his crotch.

“Yes, we’re clear,” he mutters again, his head marginally higher this time while Namjoon is still keeping him still by the throat.

“Good call.” He lowers his head to leave rough kisses on his chest, scraping his teeth against his hard nipples. “It’s complicated to take you seriously when you act all cocky, because then you pull crybaby bullshit like this.”

“And you like it, don’t you?” he adds, his nails digging into his skin as he tightens the grip of his hand on his face. “You like being treated like shit. Being used as a worthless toy.”

Yoongi shivers again, his words barely registering with him, too busy trying to tolerate the teasing he’s enduring.

“Yeah,” he exhales, his lips slightly parted.

“Mhm.” Namjoon starts leaving love bites all over his chest, while his hand slowly moves down to his neck and then his collarbone. “I could make you do anything right now.”

Yoongi’s breath gets heavier every time Namjoon’s teeth close down on his skin, the pain going straight to his dick along with what feels like all the blood that’s in his body. Namjoon takes notice and smirks, looking down at his covered erection.

“Well, isn’t that something?” he mutters as the hand he’s been keeping just above his crotch all along finally slides down to touch it through his boxers. Yoongi’s breath hitches and he closes his fingers on it with just enough blunt force to make him let out a pained moan.

“You’re so fucking eager,” he says in a ragged voice, noticing precum has started staining the fabric and peeking through it. “You drive me crazy in every way possible.”

He removes his hand and Yoongi groans in anticipation. Namjoon takes off his own shirt and shrugs off his pants until he’s fully naked, while Yoongi follows his every movement with dark eyes. Soon after, he gets back on the bed and forces him to sit down on his lap, after getting him to get rid of his underwear. His fingers finally wrap around his length, making him let out a shaky sigh, but he doesn’t move them.

“What do you want me to do to you?” he asks instead, the vibrations from his chest moving transferring directly to his back from the way Yoongi’s pressed against him, his own hard on pressing on his ass.

Yoongi’s whole body stiffens and his voice comes out so low Namjoon almost misses it.

“Fuck me,” he exhales, almost stumbling over his own words. “You’re angry. Show me.”

“Let’s see what will be left when I’m done with you,” he murmurs, one hand still wrapped around him and the other making its way to his neck again. He places the palm of his hand over his throat, from behind this time, his fingers slowly closing around it. He puts pressure on it, and Yoongi’s dick twitches in his other hand. His lips curve into a smirk at his uncontrolled reaction.

“Nobody pisses me off like you do,” he growls as his fingers deepen the pressure, gradually choking him. Yoongi’s breath comes out scattered. “Nobody. It has to be a talent.”

He presses his thumb on his head, smearing the precum all over it as he roughly strokes it. Another moan gets stuck in Yoongi’s throat as he struggles to breathe, Namjoon’s hand still wrapped on it with too much force. When his eyes get teary, he lets go and Yoongi lets out a huge gasp as he tries to inhale. Namjoon can’t help but notice how hard he is, how hard they both are, and how he’s enjoying this too — way more than he should.

“Turn around and get on your knees,” he orders him, pleased when Yoongi complies immediately, albeit still inhaling deeply but his mind already long gone. “And keep your damn hands off yourself.”

When Namjoon’s done with him, Yoongi falls next to him, but he doesn’t have it in him to even try to get him off his bed.

“Fucking hell,” is all Yoongi manages to get out, trying to get his lungs back to normal and his head to a safe space.

“You’re one kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?” Namjoon mutters on his arm, his face hidden between Yoongi’s body and the mattress. He still hasn’t told him to get up, so Yoongi stays there.

“What about it?” he says, but he’s too tired to even try and make it sound sarcastic. “You’re welcome.”

His arms and legs and his whole body feel like they’re made of jelly. He doesn’t know what comes over him, but before he can stop himself, he turns around on his side and takes Namjoon’s face in his hands to kiss him again. Namjoon kisses him back hungrily, and when it ends he keeps panting on his lips and doesn’t pull back.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters, his eyes semi closed. “I wish I knew how to resist you.”

Yoongi nods, or at least tries to, but exhaustion and pain win him over and he’s not even sure he didn’t dream those words. He closes his eyes for a second, and Namjoon follows suit, crawling in his arms against his better judgment. His head rests on Yoongi’s chest, feeling the way it rises with each breath he takes. Soon enough the pattern of it becomes more regular, letting him know he’s already drifted off to sleep.

Namjoon touches the already forming bruises he left on his chest with his fingers, but he’s not really seeing them — his brain is gradually turning off, much like Yoongi’s just did, and it’s getting harder for him to do anything else but close his eyes again.

He lightly brushes his skin with his lips in a brief and almost non-existent kiss. Yoongi doesn’t react, but his arms hold him tighter, almost on an instinct he wouldn’t have if he were awake. Namjoon lets himself be embraced in that unlikely hug he didn’t even know he was craving, and finally falls in a deep and dreamless slumber of his own with their bodies glued together under the covers.




Hoseok opens the door without knocking, given the late hour, and almost jumps on the spot when he looks inside.

Yoongi is naked, sleeping in Namjoon’s bed under the covers, and he looks completely knocked out. Namjoon has his head rested on his chest and they’re enveloped in an embrace that looks everything but comfortable. Despite this, though, they both look way more peaceful than he’s ever seen them be when they’re together.

They’re so wrapped up in each other it seems they’ve moved a couple of times since they fell asleep, and they’re so close it almost looks like they’re one person. He takes a step back, feeling like he’s intruding in a scene that looks so domestic it would be wrong to have a say in it.

He closes the door again, this time with more grace and attention at avoiding collateral noises, and he slips away, quietly going back to Jimin’s room.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks him in a low voice as he opens the door to his own room and lets him in again. “Missed me already?”

Hoseok lets him put an arm around his shoulder and smiles up at him.

“No.” When Jimin rolls his eyes, he smiles again. “I found Namjoon sleeping with Yoongi in his bed. He never stays the night.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, but his expression is amused. “Do you think they sorted their shit out?”

“I think they just fell asleep,” he replies, sitting on his bed with him. Jimin’s roommate is still nowhere to be seen, and he doesn’t mind it at all. “They’re too stubborn for that.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a small smile on his lips. “They’ll come around, though. I guess they just need some time.”

“I’m really trying.” Hoseok lets out a tiny laugh. “They aren’t helping. God knows why they still think it’s hatred.”

“And you missed the infamous end of sophomore year. That was one for the history books.” Jimin shakes his head and leaves a kiss on Hoseok’s shoulder. “It’s not their fault they’re dumb.”


Chapter Text

When Yoongi wakes up and finds himself holding a certain someone in his arms, he instantly freaks out. 

Namjoon is still sleeping and is giving no sign of wanting to wake up anytime soon. Against his own judgment, and because anything is better than having an attack in a bed that isn’t yours, Yoongi finds himself looking at him. His head is dangerously close to his chest, so close that he can feel every breath he exhales on his own bare skin. Automatically, one of his hands shoots up to his hair.

He’s peaceful and quiet, he thinks as he moves his fingertips in delicate gestures on his forehead. His features are relaxed, completely different from the frowns and scowls Namjoon seems to save just for Yoongi. His lips are slightly parted, his pearl white teeth peeking out of them, and he suddenly feels an overwhelming desire to kiss them. 

So he does, in a spur of the moment that’s threatening to throw him off completely, and just as quickly as he lowered his head, he pulls back, wondering what the hell it means.

Namjoon’s only reaction is just a heavier breath intake, but other than that, he doesn’t move a muscle. Relief washes over Yoongi.

“What do I have to do with you?” he whispers, moving a strand of his hair out of his eyes. Namjoon keeps sleeping. “Why are you the way you are?”

Yoongi closes his eyes, focusing on the taller boy’s breathing pattern, and tries his hardest not to think about how it could be between them if this was a habit. If Namjoon wasn’t so stubborn to kick him out of bed every time they’re done having sex. It’s a scary and exciting thought at the same time — but that doesn’t matter, because he knows Namjoon is only keeping him close for his own personal gain. He’s just another fuck buddy to him, and God knows why he seems to especially enjoy annoying him in particular, but it sure isn’t out of mutual liking.

Annoyed by the route his thoughts are taking, he slowly slips out of the bed, paying attention not to wake Namjoon up. Luckily, the boy keeps sleeping like a rock, and doesn’t even notice what’s happening around him. He just sniffs and shuffles on the mattress to get more comfortable on the pillow. Yoongi’s not sure whether he’ll be mad or not that he ran out like a meaningless one night stand but, at the end of the day, isn’t that what they are? He would have kicked him out of bed as soon as he woke up, anyway. It’s not even his problem if Namjoon doesn’t like it, because he’s the one who started the fucking thing.

As he runs to his room and gets into the shower, relieved that Seokjin is probably in class, his heart feels heavy. Water keeps pouring over him but, as he finds himself staring into space, he’s not feeling it. It’s like something is missing. As if his arms are longing for something that’s supposed to be there with him.

When it finally hits him, he almost manages to fall down on his ass.




“I just had a breakthrough and I need you to talk me out of it.”

Hoseok looks up from the book he’s reading. “Good morning, Yoongi. How are you on this fine day?”

Yoongi laughs sarcastically.

“I need help. Like, emotions wise. Don’t make me say that sentence twice.” He visibly cringes at his own words. “Please?”

Hoseok sets the book aside and leans back in his chair with a knowing grin. “Well?”

“Not here,” Yoongi grunts, grabbing his arm to make him stand up. “I’m not trying to discuss embarrassing things in public.”

“Emotions are embarrassing?” he says, though he lets himself be dragged away from the chair. “Is it Namjoon?”

“Shhhh.” Yoongi’s glare almost makes him do a double take. “You and your fucking intuition. I said not here.”

“So it is him,” Hoseok repeats, making sure not to say his name this time. He’s not sure he wants to see Yoongi mad.

“Don’t make me regret coming to you with this shit,” he hisses at him, walking away to his own room with his hand still tight on Hoseok’s forearm. “I’m desperate. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He unlocks the door, and the first thing he does as soon as he’s inside is throw himself on his bed and groan in the pillow as loudly as he can.

“I hate all of this. This sucks. My life sucks.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes at his dramatic gesture and sits down on the mattress next to his legs, ready to listen.

“That’s unnecessarily dramatic. Confess your sins, child.”

“Why are you so weird and okay with it? Teach me. I want to be okay with being a moron.”

“A radioactive spider attacked me when I was twelve. I’m Peter Parker. Cat’s out of the bag, whoop, gonna go back to Brooklyn now. It’s been fun being here.”

Despite the clear sarcasm in his voice, Yoongi laughs in the pillow anyway, maybe out of desperation more than amusement. His back slightly arches at the movement.

“Fuck,” he mutters once he calms down. He finally turns his head around, so at least half of his face is visible. “I’m going mad. This can’t be happening. I was supposed to keep myself in check.”

“So what is it then?” Hoseok asks, crossing his legs on the bed. “Because I have an idea.”

“I kind of think that maybe I like Namjoon,” he gets out all in one breath before hiding his face again. “Oh, fuck. This is so humiliating.”

“Did I hear that right?” Hoseok exclaims, clasping his hands together. “Holy shit. I feel like a special needs teacher whose student finally learned how to pronounce the word capitalism.”

“Why the hell is that so specific and what does it mean?” Yoongi mutters on the mattress. “No, wait. Don’t answer. That was mean.”

“I hate to be that guy, but you really deserved it.”

“I’m trying to open my heart to you, and you insult me. You don’t hate to be that guy. Being able to say ‘I told you so’ is like a drug to you.”

“Guilty as charged.” Hoseok pats him on the back with a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay, sweetie. Now that you admitted it to yourself, you can get together and make cute kids with dimples and drawing talent.”

Yoongi’s head immediately shoots up at those words and he jumps up on the bed, sitting cross legged next to Hoseok before replying. Their eyes meet.

“No,” he says dryly.

“What?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean no?”

“I don’t want to like him. I hate that I like him. I don’t understand how this happened, and he absolutely can’t know about it. Is that clear? It’d better be clear.”

“I wasn’t gonna tell him anyway, but, uh.” Hoseok ducks his head to the side. “Why?”

“You might not realize it, because he adores you even more than we all do even if he tells you to go back to Australia.” A blush creeps up on Hoseok’s cheeks, but Yoongi is too heated to pay attention to that. “But he’s an asshole to me.”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok asks, slightly confused as he continues. “You two have constantly been together for weeks now. I thought it was going well.”

“He really just wants to fuck,” he states bluntly, his lips forming a straight line. “The second we’re done, it’s like we didn’t do anything. Sometimes he kicks me out of my own bed. Ninety percent of the time.” 

“Does he always do that, though?”

“Cut the shit, Hobi. I know you saw us sleep together last night.”

Hoseok’s face goes red when he tries to lie his way out of it. “I saw no such thing. I was with Jimin until morning.”

“You go back to your room after dinner every single day to Skype your mom and I was there all night. Stop lying.”

“Fine.” Hoseok sighs in defeat. “So maybe I saw you.”

“We fell asleep,” Yoongi explains, determined to prove his point. “Or else I would’ve gone back here the second we were done. Most likely because he doesn’t want me there.” 

“So where did that magical breakthrough come from?”

Yoongi hides his face with his hands, his shoulders slumped. Putting it into words is exhausting, and he feels like he’s gonna combust any moment now. He’s never felt more uncomfortable talking about his own feelings than he does now.

“I don’t — fuck, I don’t even know,” he whispers. There’s an edge of desperation in it that makes Hoseok gently rest a hand on his shoulder. “He makes me so mad all the time, but I guess  it’s like I’m too used to his presence now. When he’s not around, I feel like he should be. Even if we’re not the best of friends or whatever. I just — God, fuck.”

Hoseok hums under his breath. “Did something in particular happen yesterday?”

Yoongi’s hands fall back in his lap, and he looks at him with a confused expression. How did he do that?

“I mean, uh,” he starts, the embarrassment from all the shit he pulled the night before coming back to him all at once. “Fuck. Whatever. You feed on gossip like I feed on pizza, you probably know more embarrassing things about all of us than we do.” 

“I sure do.” Hoseok offers him a cocky smirk. “Go on.”

“I, uh, might have put like half of my kinks out in the open,” he says in a tiny voice. To his credit, Hoseok just nods.

“Like what?”

“Okay, now let’s not go too far —”

He grins and uncrosses his legs before scooting closer to him and putting an arm around his shoulder in support. “I was kidding. So?”

“And — I don’t know, he just went along with it,” he continues, feeling his face heat up and a blush creep up his neck. “People are usually weirded out or they don’t know what to do. He just went all in.”

“Title of your sextape,” he says, earning a smack on his arm and letting out a pained whine. “Hey. Mean.”

“Fuck,” he says again, maybe for the sixth time in less than twenty minutes. “He’s like two different people all at once. When I woke up with him in my arms today, my brain stopped for like five minutes. I’m just happy he sleeps like a rock and didn’t even wake up when I left. I wasn’t ready to face him after all that.”

“Now, wait a second.” Hoseok makes a face. “You left?”

“What was I supposed to do?” he asks bitterly. “Stay there, just to wait for him to wake up and scream at me to get out of his bed, and then leave anyway?”

“Huh. Does he really do that?”

“Yeah,” he replies flatly. “He really does.”

“Denial,” Hoseok mutters under his breath. “I’ll kill him.”

“Sorry, what?”

“No, nothing.” He sighs in defeat. “I really don’t get your dynamic.”

“Yeah, because I do,” he says sarcastically, only to frown afterwards, feeling guilty. “Fuck, sorry. You’re just trying to help.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, and he sounds so gentle Yoongi almost starts crying. “Come here.”

He awkwardly leans in at his invitation, but then Hoseok engulfs him in a tight hug and he closes his eyes, resting his head on his shoulder in defeat.

“This whole thing is so fucking weird,” he whispers as Hoseok slowly rubs his back in sympathy. “I don’t know what to do.”

When they pull back, he feels marginally better, but his head is still a mess.

“I just don’t get how I let it happen.”

“That’s easy. What is it that you like about him?”

“Honestly? Nothing, he’s so fucking annoying. He has this way of walking that makes him look even more stupid than he is. When he laughs it’s so obnoxious, but it’s funny at the same time because it’s like this stupid tiny giggle that shouldn’t even be cute. He speaks in lowercase and so quietly I can barely hear him sometimes, but he has this weird cadence to it that makes him sound nervous all the time, even though he’s probably the least shy person on campus.”

Hoseok stares at him with a knowing look, but Yoongi doesn’t notice.

“He’s so fucking full of himself when we’re writing, but he also has so many ideas that work. I don’t know how he did that, but it’s like my writer’s block vanished, and we already have four chapters done. The panels need a lot of adjustments — but I mean, the skeleton is there. He constantly texts me knowing full well I hate it, and he tells me shit like ‘I hope you fail your exam’ and like? Fuck you, because I just found out I passed it before coming to find you, so he can go choke on a watermelon.”

“And,” he continues, giving no sign of wanting to stop. “He has those giant glasses that make him look like his eyes are two beans. His feet are cold, and he never ever does what I say, and the other day he was in my room with Seokjin, and they were still talking about chemistry related stuff when I came back because apparently it’s relevant to something in his new book, and my stupid brain somehow thought it would be a good idea to make me think I wouldn’t mind seeing him be there just for the sake of it and not to fuck.”

His tone gets gradually more defeated as he realizes what he’s doing sentence by sentence.

“Oh, fuck.” He stares at the void between Hoseok and himself. “I really do like him.”

“Duh,” Hoseok says, but he doesn’t even hear him.

“My life is ruined. I like like him and he just wants to fuck me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t —”

“Fuck,” he exhales, cutting him off. “This is bad. Like, high levels of bad. I’m screwed.”

Hoseok sighs. “It’s not bad.”

“It is bad. Fuck.”

As an afterthought, he raises his head upright and continues before Hoseok can. “Winter break starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, why?” Hoseok asks, confused by his question.

“Oh, thank God,” he says, finally breathing properly again at the relief of knowing that. “I’m going back to Daegu.”

“You’re what?” Hoseok yells in disbelief. “Daegu?”

“Yeah, my family is there,” he mutters. “I didn’t want to go, but then my little brother started sending me selfies from my mom’s phone just to tell me I suck for abandoning him.”

“Wait, you’re really gonna leave me alone here for two whole weeks?”

“Aren’t you going back to Australia?”

“Are you crazy?” He laughs. “Do you have any idea of how long the flight is? I applied to stay here as an international student.“

“I don’t know.” Yoongi shrugs. “Won’t Jimin stay here? I remember him complaining about not having enough money to go back home.”

“Yeah, he’s staying too, he asked a while ago,” he says, nodding his head. “But still. We could have the campus almost to ourselves.”

“To do what?” When Hoseok winks, he grimaces. “Don’t do that ever again.”

“Namjoon isn’t leaving either,” he adds, ignoring his last remark. “He says Christmas at his house is miserable, for whatever reason.”

“Great.” Yoongi smiles, but it’s clear it’s not genuine. “One more reason to leave then. I’m gonna think of it as Kim Namjoon rehab.”

Hoseok bursts out laughing at his words, covering his mouth with a hand. “What?”

“This is just infatuation, I’m sure I’ll realize I only want him for sex too once I come back and everyone’s gonna be happy.”

“That won’t work, and you know why.”

“It will.”

“It won’t.”

“Damn it, are you trying to help or not?”

“Yes, I’m trying to make you acknowledge what you feel and not bottle it up.” He crosses his legs again in a sassy move. “Only the Irish do it.”

Yoongi frowns. “I didn’t – was that a reference to something?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. Text me updates every once in a while, and have a long talk with yourself while you’re there.”

Right. Yoongi huffs out a sigh and looks down at his hands. Hoseok shakes his head and speaks again.

“I don’t like it when people are sad. Wanna watch a documentary about animals? I’ll show you my favorite. It’s about quokkas.”

“Those thingies that are always smiling?”

“Yep. Australia’s very own.”

Yoongi almost smiles despite everything. “Please.”




hoseok changed the chat name to emergency back on kind of

hoseok: greetings

jimin: hello <3

hoseok: you’re sitting next to me.

jimin: and what about it

hoseok: so who’s going back home for winter break

jimin: i’m not

hoseok: I KNOW

seokjin: i’m going back

hoseok: i’m going back to 505

seokjin: literally what

hoseok: if it’s a seven hour flight or a forty five minute drive


seokjin: um we

taehyung: i’m going home with kookie to meet his family

sooyoung: kookie <3 yeehaw

jungkook: w-what

sooyoung: nothing

sooyoung: i’m staying here because i’m broke and namjoon is staying here too

sooyoung: they’re dumping us with the sad international students

hoseok: ok first of all that was uncalled for, also there’s a dude from china on our floor and he’s nice can we invite him over sometime

jimin: hhhhhhhh:)))))))))

hoseok: shut up nobody asked you

hoseok: so it’s me sooyoung jimin and namjoon

hoseok: gang

taehyung: he really said gang

jungkook: innit

hoseok: we don’t talk like that

jungkook: okay mate

hoseok: .

seokjin: why is the emergency back on

hoseok: oh right

hoseok: yoongi’s gonna be gone for two weeks

hoseok: how do you think namjoon will take it

jungkook: uhhh

jungkook: badly

taehyung: ^

sooyoung: bye. he’s gonna cry. i don’t have the strength to babysit him for two weeks while he cries

seokjin: so uhhh who’s gonna tell him


taehyung: you’re his roommate you’re useless

hoseok: who asked YOU go take it up with your boyfriend

sooyoung: is he okay?




Namjoon frowns at his phone. Once he reads the text, he takes a deep breath and drops it next to him on the bed, wondering whether he should ignore it or not. Guilt fills his chest and he sighs before taking it in his hands again and dialing the number.

“Mom?” he says when he hears the other end pick up. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking at my phone.”

“It’s fine, baby,” she answers softly. He immediately feels guilty again. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home for Christmas? We’ll miss you.”

“Yeah, I —” He sighs. He hated being away from his family, but he needed it. “I just can’t handle being there right now. I’m sorry. I miss you, though.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” she says, sounding so understanding Namjoon almost wants to cry. “She wouldn’t want you to dwell on it.”

Namjoon takes a deep breath. “I’ll call you tomorrow so I can talk to dad.”

“Is everything okay at school?”

His chest feels heavy. What could he even say without lying?

Everything’s alright. I’ve been fucking the one person I hate on campus for like two months and I can’t stop thinking about it for all the wrong reasons and I don’t know what’s going on with me. My book is going well, though.

He shakes his head, even though nobody can see him. “Yeah, it’s always the same stuff. I’ll probably use winter break to study for finals.”

When his mom hangs up, he lets the phone slip out of his hands and his eyes land on the ceiling. He won’t let himself think about the reasons why, but all his thoughts circle back to him again anyway. He’s not sure he’s ever been more in denial about something. He gets up on a whim and his legs carry him to his room of their own volition.

It really seems like that’s all they’ve been doing lately.

The hallway is almost empty, and before he knows he’s already knocking at his door. He kind of just feels slightly desperate, and definitely confused.

“So we need to — uh.”

He stops talking as soon as the door opens and his eyes land on what’s going on inside the room.

“Why are you packing?”

Yoongi swallows and and moves awkwardly aside to let him in.

“I’m going home?”

Namjoon pauses for a second before replying. “Oh.”

Of course he is. He doesn’t live in Australia.

“What did you need?” Yoongi asks. He sounds like he’s been caught in the act of doing something he shouldn’t have, even though he’s just doing what eighty percent of the students on campus are doing.

“I — uh, nothing. I mean, nothing in particular, really.”

“Okay…” Yoongi trails off, trying to fit his laptop into his backpack without looking at him. “Good to know.”

Namjoon takes a step forward until they’re way too close for his liking, but he feels like he has to. “So you’ll be back in January?”

“Yes.” He finally turns around. When they make eye contact, Namjoon swallows. “Why?”

“Just, I don’t know.” Namjoon shrugs. Yoongi keeps looking at him with an expression he can’t quite place. “The comic.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m gonna work on the first panels when I get bored of my family. You can email me new stuff if you write it.”

Namjoon nods his head as silence fills the room, making the atmosphere way more uncomfortable than it should be.

“Have a... nice break, then?”

“Yeah. I will.”

They look at each other for a long second that feels so stretched out it almost seems like an hour, until Namjoon takes his face in his hands and places a kiss on his lips. Taken aback, Yoongi’s body goes stiff, but he relaxes almost immediately and mirrors the gesture. Namjoon pulls back shortly after and clears his throat, unsure about how he should react to how kissing him felt.

“Okay.” He bites his lip. “See you next year then.”

Yoongi lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

Then he adds, “Uh, about last night —”

“It’s fine,” Namjoon interrupts him quickly, clearly not wanting to bring up the uncomfortable elephant in the room. “It was fine. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Namjoon looks like he’s going to add something else, but then changes his mind. “Okay. I’m gonna leave. Good talking to you.”

Yoongi nods at that, and before he can answer Namjoon is already out of the door. He sighs in relief as he walks away, though he feels extremely uncomfortable. 

Why did he kiss him goodbye? They’re not together. They’re the furthest thing possible from a couple. Yoongi literally ran away from his bed, for fuck’s sake — he should know better.

Not that Namjoon wants them to be one. He’s not trying to get close like that — or in any other way — to anyone in general.

He was really just hoping he could get some distraction out of their… arrangement? Friends with benefits contract? He’s not even sure he’d call what they have going on as being friends. Most of the time, Yoongi is just fucking annoying. Namjoon is sure Yoongi thinks the same thing about him, given how he acts.

Mostly, though, he just doesn’t want to go through the winter holidays and everything it implies alone, but it looks like he’ll have to.




Hoseok throws his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, hiding his face in his neck with a squeal.

“Text me while you’re away,” he whines on his shirt, his long hair tickling his skin. “I’ll miss you.”

He tentatively hugs him back, taken aback by the display of affection. Not that Hoseok isn’t an incredibly touchy guy. Yoongi just didn’t think he would be so dramatic about it. Maybe he shouldn’t have chosen him of all people to confess about his — secret. He refuses to call it a crush. It’s not a crush. It’s an inconvenience.

“It’s only two weeks.” Yoongi awkwardly pats him on his back until he retreats. “Merry Christmas?”

“I know.” Hoseok’s lips curve in a cheerful grin. “But still. Remember what I said.”

“Sure,” he mutters sadly, looking away.

Taehyung, Jungkook and Seokjin keep watching them from the entrance with confused faces, waiting for Yoongi to hurry up and get out of there. Namjoon stands up straighter against the doorframe, though his gaze keeps going everywhere but on them.

Yoongi clears his throat. Namjoon’s eyes meet his, eventually.

“See you,” Yoongi says weakly, feeling the weird tension that somehow grew between them. “I’ll text you if I need something about the scripts.”

Namjoon nods his head without uncrossing his arms from his chest. “Sure.”

“Okay, bye,” he finally concludes, walking back to the others without waiting for an answer.

“What just happened back there?” Taehyung asks as they walk towards the campus exit together. “Felt weird.”

“Nothing,” Yoongi brushes off his question. “We just said goodbye.”

“You looked like a couple in crisis,” Seokjin deadpans, making Jungkook chuckle.

“He’s right,” he agrees. “Did you break up?”

“No?” Yoongi rolls his eyes in annoyance. “How the fuck can we break up if we’re not together?”

“I was joking, loosen up.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and pats his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

The sky is filled with heavy and dark clouds when Yoongi leaves the train station, and it’s honestly making him a little bit sad. He’s excited to be home — he hasn’t seen his family in a few months, after all. He just finds the atmosphere way too gloomy for his liking, especially because he’s pretty sure it’s going to rain soon. 

His train ride was mostly uneventful, as he expected it to be, and boring, though slightly stressful. He likes silence, but his brain was anything but quiet. He tried to daydream about something else, but of course — all his thoughts kept circling back to him. If there is one thing he’s becoming more sure of, is that he hates himself when he likes someone.

Honestly, it’s hard enough for him to actually admit to himself he likes someone every time it happens, but usually it’s not people he’s supposed to resent. And yet, that ship sailed a long time ago.

He doesn’t need to work on trying not start liking Namjoon anymore. He’s past that territory. He needs to work on stopping it.

That’s really all he can think about as he rides the bus from the station to his parents’ house. For every thing he thinks he likes about Namjoon, he tries to think of something he hates.

The dimple that appears on the corner of his smile every time he laughs? Cute. The way he kicks him out of bed every time they’re done fucking? Not cute. The satisfied look his eyes get when he’s writing something he’s happy with and he thinks nobody is looking? Cute. The big words he uses that really have no business being used in regular conversation and the way he does it naturally and clearly not on purpose? Wait — that might be cute too.

Nope. Off the rails. Yoongi sighs in frustration and glares at the void, until he notices the mean look an old woman is throwing his way. He can already feel his ears become a really obvious shade of red, if the warmth of his skin is anything to go by, so he’s infinitely glad when the bus finally reaches his stop.

He has to remind himself to get his shit together a couple of times before entering his house, but when he does he instantly forgets everything as soon as he hears a familiar voice yell his name.  


“Don’t trip on yourself, Tae,” Yoongi says as he laughs, calling his little brother with his nickname when he runs up to him and hugs his waist as far as he can reach.

The six year old pouts on his thigh. “But I missed you.”

Yoongi leans down to pick him up in his arms and hold him up, making him let out a screech followed by a giggle.

“I missed you too, but we need to talk about your manipulation tactics with sad selfies,” he warns him, making him giggle again.

“Sorry,” he offers him an innocent smile. “Mom said I could.”

“Taehyun!” their mom exclaims as she appears in the doorway. “What did I tell you about giving out my evil plans?”

Yoongi puts his brother down and leans in to hug her.

“Come inside, you’re just in time for dinner.” She closes the door with a smile. “Dad is running late, he’ll be back in a while.”

“How have you guys been?” Yoongi asks his mom once they’re sat down at the table. “I missed this place. That college can get sad really fast.”

“Me and Yeonjun got an A+ on our art project!” Taehyun yells out before any of them can get a chance to add anything. “My teacher said I’m talented.”

“Fist bump,” Yoongi exclaims, bumping his closed hand against his brother’s. “Of course you are, we have the same DNA. And it’s ‘Yeonjun and I,’ not me.”

Taehyun sticks his tongue out at him, so he adds, “You’re keeping the house going, champ.”

“Yeah, because I don’t clean or anything,” his mom says sarcastically, though she’s smiling. “Speaking of art. Any progress on your comic thing? You said you were having trouble.”

Yoongi has to hold himself back from letting out a sigh at her question. The comic is going well. Can’t say the same for its creators.

“I kinda set aside my own ideas,” he admits, trying to cut a slice of bread without sawing his fingers off. “I didn’t know what to do with the plot and it blocked everything. Found help.”

“What kind of help?” she asks, interested in his words. “Like a co-author?”

“Yeah, that.” Taehyun kicks his leg under the table and he glares at him. “I asked my art professor and found someone. It’s coming along fine, I guess.”

“Is he good? She? I don’t know.” She laughs at her own words. “Do I know them?”

“Uh —” Yoongi almost chokes on the food he’s chewing, but he swallows it immediately. “Yeah, you know him.”

Now he regrets telling her about the ice cream. Why did he do that? He shouldn’t have done that. He knew it was going to come back and bite him in the ass.

“Who is it then?”

“That kid who stole my ice cream before junior year,” he says in a flat tone, making her hold back a laugh by bringing up a napkin in front of her mouth. “It’s not funny. I was coerced into it. Stop laughing.”

“So you two made up?” She smirks at him and he groans on his arms. “It was about time. That was dumb. Did you ask him to pay you back for the records?”

“What ice cream?” his brother perks up from his chair, suddenly interested. “I want ice cream.”

“This kid bought the ice cream your brother wanted and they’ve been at each other’s throats for two years,” she says before he can stop her. “No ice cream. It’s December.”

“Oh.” Taehyun seems to think about it, until he glares at Yoongi. “That’s stupid.”

“Please, stop this torture.” Yoongi groans and puts his napkin down. “I’m going to go back to the train station and get back to the dorms if you don’t leave me alone.”

His mom shrugs. “Good luck with that.”

“I hate this family.”

Taehyun grins at him. “Wait for dad before you say that.”



“I’m bored,” Hoseok says for the seventh time in an hour. “Do something.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jimin lets out a deep and exasperated sigh. “This place is deserted. It’s cold outside. I’m tired.”

“Why did I come here? I’d be at the beach if I stayed in Melbourne. Eating popsicles and enjoying the sun.”

“Hoseok, shut up, please,” Namjoon pleads, his face hidden in the book he’s reading. “You made your choice. Some of us have brains and are trying to do something useful.”

“He’s annoying, but you don’t need to do him like that,” Sooyoung points out, looking up from her phone. “It’s okay, Hobi. We love you.”

“Plus, if you call reading a Nicholas Sparks book useful, I don’t know what’s your definition of useless,” Jimin adds. “Even though you’re not wrong.”

Hoseok glares at all of them before his eyes stop on Jimin. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Well, I didn’t hear a lie.”

“Asshole,” he mutters, punching him weakly on the arm. “Try getting into my bed tonight. I will curb stomp you.”

“Okay, I really don’t need to hear this,” Namjoon exclaims, standing up from his chair. He keeps the book, since the only ‘librarian’ on duty in the whole campus is technically him. “I’m going to bed.”

He doesn’t bother checking it out and takes off without further comments.

Sooyoung frowns. “What crawled up his ass and died?”

“Yoongi went home,” Jimin simply says, like that explains it.

“Right.” She continues without missing a beat. “Dick was the only thing keeping him bearable.”

Jimin chuckles under his breath and Hoseok raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to check on him,” he says, standing up. “He seemed upset.”

“It’s just Namjoon,” Jimin says quietly. “He’s always upset.”

“He seemed more upset,” Hoseok clarifies, staring at them with a disappointed look on his face. “I think you guys are too quick to dismiss his feelings. I know you’ve known him way longer than me, but maybe that’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?” Sooyoung asks, and for once she seems almost approachable. To Hoseok, anyway. “He’s always been like that.”

“He kind of gets sadder around winter break, though, doesn’t he?” Jimin says, turning around to face her. “I was thinking about it.”

“He mentioned something —” Hoseok cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Nevermind. I’ll go.”



Namjoon looks up from his laptop and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“You’re making me miserable just by being around you,” Hoseok states. He sits down next to him on the bed without waiting for an invitation. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” His eyes go back to the screen, but his eyebrows are still furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been moping around for a week. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

“Um. Yeah.” He bites his bottom lip. “Stupid stuff. But I always mope around, so.”

“Jimin said the same thing — but you can talk to me, you know,” Hoseok offers, resting his head on his shoulder as a joke. When Namjoon doesn’t complain about it, he stays where he is. “If you want.”

“I know. It’s just, uh. Family things, from the past.” He shrugs, trying to keep the information to a minimum. He never really told anyone the whole story, and he prefers for it to stay that way. “It kind of comes back up around the holidays. Don’t worry.”

“Is that why you stayed here?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like, about my parents. They’re fine.” He exhales a shaky breath. “It’s just the… anniversary of something that happened. Being there reminds me of it.”

“Maybe being around them would help, though? Like, moral support. I don’t know.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “It hasn’t before. But I’ll call them later. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Anytime.” He laughs softly and raises his head from his shoulder. “And you know, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry — about whatever it is that happened to you. If you need anything, I’m available.”

He takes his fingers off the keyboard and licks his lips. Out of a nervous habit, he starts playing with the bracelets he keeps on his wrist, trying to focus. His eyes land on a hair tie he hasn’t taken off in exactly two years as he moves it around with his fingers.

“Thank you, Hobi. I appreciate it. Sorry I’m mean to you sometimes. I don’t do it on purpose, I swear.”

Hoseok laughs. “It’s okay, I know. It’s funny.”

“Is it?” Namjoon asks, his looping movements on the hair tie finally reaching a halt as a smile appears on his lips against his will. “Is it really?”

“Yeah, I actually like spiders. I wouldn’t mind if they crawled on me. Rest up, Gary.”

Namjoon laughs and bumps his shoulder against Hoseok’s arm. “Idiot.”




Yoongi gets back into the house, tired from the New Year’s Eve party he went to. As he enters his childhood room, trying not to make too much noise, he finds himself looking at the walls through the tiredness that’s pervading him.

His prints are all still covering most of it, ranging from old Impressionism paintings to Marvel posters to Andy Warhol pieces he used to like way too much when he was sixteen. Some vinyl albums he bought before going away to college sit neatly stacked next to his record player.

A sudden wave of nostalgia hits him at the thought of all the time he used to spend cataloging them by genre and then artist. Barely four years have passed since then, but it feels like an eternity. At least those have survived Namjoon-gate. He groans quietly. His brain can’t give it a rest.

He sits down on the bed, still fully clothed, and tries to direct his thoughts somewhere else. He’s been sleeping in his room since he got home and he has had way too much time to dwell on the past, but somehow it’s like all of it is crashing against him at once in this exact moment. The fact he’s pretty drunk doesn’t help either.

When he remembers he hasn’t touched his phone the whole night, he picks it up and unlocks it, even though ninety percent of the people who could have a reason to text him have been with him all night. His eyes widen when he sees it.

(from: flamingo) happy new year or whatever
(from: flamingo) actually, i don’t know, forget i sent that

Despite the situation, he smiles to himself in the dark of his room. He didn’t think of wishing a happy new year to anyone. That’s not really something he does. He still feels guilty, though, because out of everyone he really wasn’t expecting Namjoon to send that to him. This is the first time there’s been any kind of communication between them since he went home. He stares at the two texts, not knowing how to feel about it. He could’ve done without the second one. 

The silence of the night is broken by a heavy sigh. That was probably the first time Namjoon thought about him since the start of winter break, while Yoongi can’t keep him out of his head. It’s pretty pathetic, really, when you think about it. It’s not like it’s a secret that Namjoon doesn’t like him. He makes a point of telling Yoongi every time he gets the chance to do it.

But then again, isn’t that what Yoongi does, too? Maybe — he shakes his head to himself before the concept can even form in his mind. Namjoon probably sent that to be the annoying asshole he always is. Because that’s what he does, after all — he always gets what he wants, even if what he wants is drive his nemesis insane. Yoongi’s convinced Namjoon doesn’t even have a basic understanding of how human interaction works. Either that, or he’s doing it on purpose. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. 

Yoongi laughs bitterly to himself in his half drunken state. That would actually be a genius move on his part. Keep your enemies close and all that comes with it. If he’s being honest, this whole crush thing might be the worst thing Namjoon has ever caused him. Even worse than the vinyl accident.

He doesn’t even know what to say, and truthfully he doesn’t feel like being snarky at two in the morning at all, so he keeps it simple. Maybe he’ll regret answering when he wakes up, maybe he won’t. He really doesn’t care at the moment.

(to: flamingo) thank you
(to: flamingo) happy new year :)

As he sends the texts, his heart does a weird backflip in his chest, and he’s not sure he doesn’t care at least a little bit anymore. Maybe his rehab strategy isn’t working as well as he thought it was.




Hoseok gets into their room, ready to take the textbook he needs and bolt back to the library to help Jimin, but he’s stopped in his tracks when quiet shuffling from the bathroom catches his attention.

“Joon?” Hoseok calls out tentatively, but he gets no response. “What’s going on?”

Still nothing, but he can hear the same noise, even from where he’s standing, having just arrived in the doorway. He closes it behind him and gets inside, and as he walks closer to the bathroom, he can clearly make out something that really sounds like someone crying.

“Are you okay?” he says, still hoping it’s him, his hand on the doorknob. He touches it lightly to see if it’s locked but, even when he sees it isn’t, he doesn’t push it.

“Yeah,” Namjoon replies in a strained voice that clearly says he’s not. “I’m fine.”

“Can I come in? You don’t sound fine.” His hand doesn’t leave the doorknob, until he hears sniffling and then a barely audible agreement.

He finally pushes it open and he’s met with the sight of Namjoon sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back to the wall. Hoseok immediately lowers his body, getting on his knees to look at him. Namjoon closes his eyes and throws his head back, resting it against the tiles. A tear rolls down his cheek, but he immediately dries it off with two fingers.

“What happened?” Hoseok asks, worried about the situation. He’s never seen him cry, or even show any kind of emotion other than his usual anger or occasional short laugh, and it’s really throwing him off. “Are you okay?”

Namjoon shakes his head at the question this time, and another sob escapes his mouth. “Not really, no.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He carefully takes his face in his hands and dries his tears with his thumbs, before leaving a kiss on his forehead. “We can do that.”

Namjoon shakes his head again, looking like he’s going to burst into tears if he opens his mouth.

“Okay.” Hoseok nods and grabs his hands, enveloping them with his own, before dragging him along his own body as he stands up. Namjoon lets him. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He puts an arm around his hips and carries him to his own bed, helping him get under the covers. Once he’s done that, he sneaks himself into the bed with his clothes still on and moves closer to him.

“Jimin will kill me,” Namjoon tries to say, but his voice comes out raspy. “It’s not even eight.”

“Jimin won’t do shit because you need someone with you right now,” Hoseok replies, pulling him into his arms. “I’ll text him I’m busy. We can deal with whatever this is tomorrow, now sleep.”

Namjoon nods his head and stops complaining, clearly exhausted. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s okay.”

He nods again, but he’s already halfway through the path to a deep slumber, so Hoseok just gently strokes his hair, a worried look in his eyes.




Namjoon wakes up with a slight headache that’s already threatening to ruin his entire day. Disoriented, he looks around the room and frowns when he spots Hoseok’s bed and finds it empty.

Someone moves next to him, and for a second his brain, in his half asleep state, freaks out, because he doesn’t remember coming back with someone to his room. That someone being Yoongi. Who’s back home. He shakes his head and shoves the thought of him aside.


He finally looks at the body attached to his and almost sighs in relief at the sight of Hoseok. Then he freaks out again.

“Why are you in my bed?” he asks, his eyes now wide with realization. “What did we do?”

“Nothing, calm down.” Hoseok laughs softly as he shuffles under the covers a bit to sit up on the mattress. “You don’t remember?”

“Oh.” Namjoon closes his eyes for a couple of moments to think about it, and the scene comes back to his mind in all its embarrassing glory. “Right.”

Hoseok disentangles himself from the sheets and gets out of the bed with a yawn before he stretches his arms out.

“Wanna go get food?”

“Maybe.” Namjoon looks at him with a curious expression. “You don’t want to know about — about yesterday?”

“If you want to tell me, yeah,” he says, looking at himself in the mirror. “Otherwise you don’t have to.”

“Okay.” Namjoon hums in response, internally relieved. He really doesn’t want to. “I’ll go take a shower. My head hurts.”

“I’ll wait for you here.”




“Remember to check in on him from time to time.”

“I won’t leave him,” Yoongi assures, keeping his sleeping brother in his arms. “I don’t really have anything else to do. I’m pretty much just bored.”

“Check his temperature every once in a while.” His mom smiles at the sight. “Maybe try not to catch the flu from him too while you’re at it.”

“I don’t care, I’m not letting him suffer on his own,” Yoongi mutters, holding him tighter. “I’m not gonna see him for like three other months.”

“I know.” She chuckles shortly and takes her handbag. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

“Bye, mom.”

She closes the door behind her and Yoongi retreats to his room with Taehyun in his arms. He’s so definitely getting sick from this.




“We’re going out.”

Namjoon looks at Hoseok with an expression on his features that seems more defeated than anything else. “Okay. Have fun.”

“No.” Hoseok crosses his arms and stands in front of him. “We’re going out. All four of us. You’re included in the equation.”

“Where? Why?”

“Because you haven’t been out in days and you need some air and a distraction. Also, that giant book fair they were holding downtown in November got set up again and we gotta check it out.” He offers him a hand, waiting for him to take it and stand up. “Come on.”

“I can’t say no to books, I guess,” Namjoon says, letting Hoseok drag him to Jimin and Sooyoung.

“I can’t wait to have you hold an entire lecture about the merits of Rudyard Kipling while I just want to buy math essays,” Sooyoung laments, patting Namjoon on his shoulder. “I’m keeping my ears closed.”

Hoseok frowns. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll listen to you.”

“I’m gonna side with her on this one,” Jimin says with a shrug.

Namjoon punches him weakly on the arm, but there’s a smile on his lips anyway.




Yoongi lets out a massive sneeze as he hides his mouth on his arm out of instinct. 

“Here you go,” the bartender says, placing a cocktail in front of him.

He frowns, still trying to blink properly after the sneeze. “I, uh, didn’t pay for this.”

“Someone else did.”

Before he can say anything to that, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Caught a cold?” a voice he hasn’t heard in years asks him, and it takes him a couple of seconds to place it. When he turns around, his eyes shine in realization and he gets up to give the tall man in front of him a hug.

“Holy shit, Chanyeol,” he exclaims on his chest, not really managing to reach his shoulders. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Roughly four years,” Chanyeol replies with a chuckle, enveloping him in a hug of his own. “I like what you did to your hair.”

“Wanted to change it up and I ended up sticking with the color,” he admits once they’ve both sat down and ordered another drink for Chanyeol. “But thanks. And yes, I caught a cold.”

“You’re as dumb as I remembered.”

“Shut up.” Yoongi laughs at his words. “My little brother came down with the flu and I had to look after him for a couple of days.”

“I haven’t seen Taehyun since he was little,” he says, his face lighting up at the mention of Yoongi’s brother. “How old is he now? Like five?”

“He turned six in August,” Yoongi confirms with a proud smile. “I’m kinda pissed I missed him starting elementary school, but I have pictures.”

“You went back to college before that?” He takes a sip of his drink and when Yoongi nods he speaks again in an embarrassed voice. “I saw you around campus a couple of times.”

Yoongi looks at him, suddenly more interested. “You got accepted there too?”

“I transferred for junior year,” he says. “My parents got divorced and my mother is from Seoul, so I followed her there because I didn’t want her to be alone. I never liked it here that much anyway.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Chanyeol lets out a small laugh. “It was about time they did it. They’re better off separated. I’m visiting my dad right now.”

“So why did you never say anything? I thought you were still here,” Yoongi exclaims. “I’ve never seen you around.”

“You were always with your friends every time I saw you, so.” Chanyeol shrugs, looking down at his drink. “I didn’t want to intrude or anything. When I saw you sitting alone here, I seized the opportunity.”

Then he smirks and adds, “Also, that period you spent beefing with Kim Namjoon was funny. Half of the people on campus were following it.”

“You know about that, too?” Yoongi groans, hiding his face with a hand. “Why did you have to bring it up?”

“Because it was hilarious — and widespread,” Chanyeol states bluntly, and then chuckles. “Heard about your comic thing, too. I always liked your art, and his books are good. Word travels fast in that place. Though, I find it weird you’re working together now.”

“Believe me, me too.” He looks at what’s left of his drink and downs it all in one go, suddenly feeling antsy. “But it’s fine. We’re making it work. Kind of.”

Chanyeol hums, looking at him with a different spark in his eyes.

“So, on the dating front?” he asks, in a clear attempt to change the subject. “Still looking for the one?”

Yoongi was about to cough when he said it, so he ends up coughing even more once his brain processes his question. Chanyeol pats him awkwardly on his back. He tries to regain his composure, but his own thoughts are mocking him. He tried to change the topic, but he doesn’t know he basically brought up the same thing. Yoongi wants to die a bit.

“Sorry, uh.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. Definitely single. You?”

“Me too.” Chanyeol laughs again before speaking. “What’s the use in being out if you don’t get cute boys throwing themselves at you?”

“Oh, so you’re out out now? Good call.” Yoongi smiles at the bartender when he refills their drinks. He doesn’t remember asking for it, but he doesn’t care at this point. “I still remember the shit you pulled at the end of the year. Fucking legend.”

“I wanted to go out in style,” Chanyeol says solemnly, drinking from his glass. “We were the hottest couple in there. You know it.”

“Of course we were,” Yoongi exclaims, mirroring his gesture. “Fun times.”

As they talk, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He’s about to take it out, but then he feels the heavy warmth of Chanyeol’s hand on his thigh and ignores it.

“For old times’ sake?” Chanyeol suggests, his face suddenly unreadable. His hand moves up a bit, making Yoongi’s cheeks heat up. “No obligations.”

His phone vibrates again. He’s at his fourth drink by now, plus the ones he had before they met, and he feels he doesn’t really care about it. Out of spite, he nods, and after Chanyeol pays for the both of them, he takes his hand and they’re out.

If as Chanyeol touches his thighs he imagines different hands doing it, he’s just going to ignore it.




“I’ve been looking for this edition of Animal Farm for months,” Namjoon says, clutching the book to his chest. “The cover is so pretty.”

“You’re having a meltdown over a book?” Sooyoung says, confused. “Writers are fucking weird.”

“Shut the fuck up, and go back to your derivations.”

“They‘re called derivatives —”

“Whatever the fuck that is.”

“Didn’t you do this stuff in high school?”

“I don’t even remember where my high school is.”

Hoseok starts laughing at their exchange, making Jimin chuckle as well. “Love that.”

“I hate all of you,” he mutters, letting his arms fall along his sides but still keeping a firm hold on the book. “Blasphemy.”

Hoseok puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him closer with a smile. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Jimin’s eyes are caught by some book on a shelf and Sooyoung goes with him to check it out, leaving them behind for a moment.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, still holding him.

“Better,” Yoongi admits. “Thanks for forcing me out of my room.”

“Anytime.” Hoseok ruffles his hair and earns a weak whine in protest from it. “Plus break is almost over. Would have been sad to spend it inside.”

“Is it already?” He frowns at his words. “Kinda lost track of time.”


Jimin comes back and says something to Hoseok, but Namjoon isn’t really listening. When they start their own conversation, probably about the book Jimin is holding, his mind is already elsewhere.

He didn’t realize the holidays were almost over. He was so focused on trying to get through them without losing his sanity he didn’t notice he basically made it out mostly unscathed. Emphasis on mostly.

They start walking again and he takes out his phone, trying to type with the book stuck between his arm and his chest before he can change his mind. Sooyoung shoots him a worried look.

(to: midget) hey
(to: midget) you coming back tomorrow?

He stares at them for a couple of seconds, wondering what the fuck he’s doing. The reply doesn’t come, so he puts away his phone.

By the time they’re back in their rooms, the situation is the same, and he goes to sleep.




“Remember to stay safe in there, okay?”

“Dad, it’s just the train.”

“I know, but just in case.”

Yoongi shakes his head and gives a short laugh. “Fine.”

He leans in to hug him and then he leaves, only sitting down to finally take a look at his notifications once he’s on the train waiting for it to leave.

(from: flamingo) hey
(from: flamingo) you coming back tomorrow?

(from: chanyeol!) i had fun last night :)
(from: chanyeol!) let me know when you get to seoul
(from: chanyeol!) also if you wanna hang out once classes start again just text me, if not that’s fine too


He laughs under his breath at Hoseok’s enthusiasm and decides to reply to that and Chanyeol’s messages once he gets off the train. He hesitates over Namjoon’s texts. A tiny part of him hopes he actually wants to see him, but the rest of his consciousness adds that the reason he wants to see him isn’t what Yoongi wants it to be.

When he looks up, the train is moving, and his mind flies back to the previous night. The realization it felt like cheating stops him in his tracks.





“I missed you so —”

Yoongi lets out a loud sneeze just as Hoseok is leaning in to give him a hug, so he retreats immediately and stares at him.

“Huh.” He raises an eyebrow. “Okay. You leave for two weeks and come back with germs.”

Yoongi takes a tissue out of the pocket of his jacket and blows his nose, making it even redder than it was already.

“My brother got sick while I was there,” he explains in a nasal voice that makes Taehyung laugh under his breath. “Don’t laugh.”

“Let me guess, you couldn’t handle being away from him for more than ten minutes,” Jungkook offers with a smirk. Yoongi doesn’t reply, which means he hit the nail on the head, so Jungkook keeps smiling.

“Whatever. Let me just go back to my room. I’m tired of you already.”

He blows his nose again, making Hoseok start laughing. “Sorry, you look so funny.”

“Not gonna acknowledge that. Where’s Seokjin?”

“He got here an hour ago, he’s probably in your room.”

He dumps the tissue in the first trash can he sees and they all go their separate ways, so Yoongi heads immediately to his room. He’s not that tired, but mentally he feels like he’s been gone for two years instead of two weeks.

He really tried. He would love to think he managed to keep his thoughts at bay, but in hindsight he’s pretty sure he failed on all fronts. He unlocks the door with a swift motion and drops his stuff on the floor.

“Jin! How have you —” the rest of his sentence dies on his tongue when he’s met with the sight of someone that’s definitely not his roommate. “Uh.”

“Hey.” Namjoon looks up from his phone and puts it away as he gets up from the bed. “I kinda kicked your roommate out.”

Yoongi swallows, his mind going at one hundred miles per hour trying to digest the situation. It’s safe to say he wasn’t prepared to see him so soon, and his heartbeat is definitely reflecting it. So much for trying to distance himself. If anything it got worse.

The first thing Yoongi notices is that he looks exhausted — and yet, still as beautiful. He’s not sure when he started thinking of Namjoon as beautiful. He wishes he didn’t.


Instead of replying, Namjoon walks up to him and brings his hands to his neck first and then his face. There’s a hint of softness he doesn’t remember ever noticing in his touch that makes him sink his teeth in his bottom lip out of disorientation.

“I don’t exactly enjoy having an audience,” he mutters as he brings his face closer and Yoongi places his hands on his sides automatically. “Nice of you to reply to that text ten hours later, though.”

“I was sleeping,” he lies, holding his gaze with his own. Not that what he was doing is any of Namjoon’s business, but he’s finding it hard not to feel guilty about it. Which is infuriating to him. He doesn’t have any valid reasons to feel guilty for sleeping with someone else. He’s free to do whatever he wants.

“So early?” Namjoon brushes his lips with his own, the look in his eyes almost darkening. “I’ll let it slide this time.”

“What gives you the authority to decide that?” Yoongi asks, the shock of having him so close after all that time gradually being replaced with the annoyance he’s so familiar with. “I’m not your property.”

“When we’re doing this you are,” he says in a low voice, his fingers steadily touching his cheekbones and jaw in a possessive manner. “You’re cute with your nose all red. It might be worth it to get sick for this.”

“I’m not yours, Namjoon,” Yoongi growls, gradually losing control over his temper. He’s so annoyed Namjoon’s follow-up words don’t even register with him. “Stop behaving like an asshole.”

Namjoon’s hands leave his face and land on his shoulder to take his jacket off and letting it fall on the bed next to them. He brings his lips to his collarbone and lets them go up to his neck without breaking contact with his skin. A shudder travels through Yoongi’s body, making him feel frozen in place.

“This, the way you react to me,” he whispers, leaving a kiss on his neck. He smirks when Yoongi closes his eyes. “This says you are.”

Before Yoongi can retaliate, his teeth close on his skin and he sucks on it, sliding his tongue over the area as he bites again, earning a whine from him. He keeps performing the same motions on another spot, and when he applies more pressure than he’s used to, Yoongi reacts again, this time with a low moan that goes straight to Namjoon’s senses.

“The way I missed this,” he exhales just before their lips finally meet and Yoongi immediately kisses back, against his better judgment. “Missed it so bad.”

They move to Yoongi’s bed in no time, and from then it’s a mess of hands trying to take off clothes and moans and regrets neither of them will acknowledge until the madness is over.

“It’s a shame you’re you,” Namjoon breathes out just as Yoongi throws his head back while he sinks into him. “You’re so pretty like this.”

There’s a dull pain in his chest when he hears those words, though he probably imagined it. He should have known it would happen. Deep down, he was aware of it — and yet, he can’t bring himself to end it.




There’s a knock on the door, so Yoongi looks up automatically, though he’s not really doing anything. He ends up staring at the ceiling from the way he’s lying on the bed.

“Can I come in or are you two fucking?” Seokjin yells from behind the door. Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“I’m alone!” he yells back, definitely not ready to have someone in his room again. It’s not like he can keep Seokjin out of his own place, though.

Seokjin finally gets inside, but when he sees Yoongi he assumes a concerned expression he doesn’t really ever use. Yoongi looks back at him, weirded out.

“Are you okay?” he asks, walking up to him.
He’s not used to having Seokjin ask that kind of question, but apparently his entire world is turning upside down, so he just shrugs. “Fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he states bluntly, sitting down on his bed with his hands on his thighs. “You kinda look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi sighs. Then he lets out the umpteenth sneeze of the day in the sleeve of his shirt. “I think my brother passed me the flu.”

“That would make sense,” Seokjin agrees. “But I meant, like, emotionally.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as they keep staring at each other. “Since when do you recognize emotions?”

“Very funny, hyung.” Seokjin rolls his eyes. “I’ve been observing the two of you.”

“And what did you find?” he asks, scared of the answer. He definitely didn’t notice it.

“I think you’re both in denial, but he’s worse than you.“ He licks his lips as he speaks. “You seem to have at least acknowledged you don’t hate him. I think he likes you more than you like him. He just doesn’t realize it.”

Yoongi swallows, confused by his words, but doesn’t deny them. “Why?”

“As soon as he heard I was back he came to me and literally begged me to go somewhere else. I don’t think he was that starved for dick to do that.”

Seokjin shrugs. Yoongi keeps looking at him.

“Now this is speculation, but while you two were at it I was talking to Hoseok, and he told me Namjoon has had a rough couple of weeks. He didn’t go into detail, but apparently it was something old. I think not having a distraction — you, in this case — brought some shit back up. From the way Hoseok talked about it, I think it’s something that had an impact on him.”

Yoongi nods and keeps listening to him. This is the most he’s heard him talk all at once outside of chemistry things, and it’s weird.

“I think he’s scared of being hurt and he doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings, so he plays the part of the asshole to keep people away. Of course it’s like you don’t even live here so you never know anything, but I don’t think he’s ever had someone since he started college. It’s not like he doesn’t have people who like him. He’s Kim Namjoon.”

“You want him too?” Yoongi tries to joke. It comes out half-hearted.

“No, not really,” Seokjin deadpans. “Haven’t you noticed how you’re the only one he keeps around and interacts with, his friends excluded? You don’t think if he only wanted dick he could find it somewhere else?”

“I mean, we have the comic,” Yoongi mutters, trying to wrap his head around it. “And maybe it’s easier for him so he doesn’t have to go out of his way.”

“You’re way past the comic by now.” Seokjin shakes his head. “You don’t get so far down the rabbit hole with people you truly hate. I think you two are standing on a fine balance between constant fury and total love.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi admits. “I don’t know anything.”

“Well, that’s my take. I think I’m right, but I might have pulled all of this out of my ass.” His face doesn’t change, but his voice becomes softer. “Just — find a way to confront him, or it’s gonna blow up in your faces and it’ll end badly. It’s taking a toll on you.”

“You’re weirdly observant for someone who’s always hiding behind textbooks.”

“Maybe it’s time we all stop judging a book by its cover,” he says nonchalantly. “That applies to all of us.”

Yoongi stays silent, his words lingering in his mind. It makes sense, but now that Seokjin put the idea in his head that he might have a chance, he finds it scares him even more. He doesn’t even know how Seokjin knew he likes Namjoon in the first place, but he guesses at this point it’s fairly obvious. Probably the only one who didn’t notice is Namjoon himself.

Seokjin gets up and takes a book out of his desk, so it’s safe to say the conversation is over. Yoongi sighs and shakes his head to himself.

His words keep replaying in his mind. He didn’t even consider the possibility of Namjoon having problems of his own. The realization he wants to know what they are shocks him at least a little, but he doubts he’d tell him. Who would ever open up to someone they don’t like? 

He’s really not sure how to get out of it.

Chapter Text

When Yoongi wakes up, he instantly realizes something isn’t right. He’d like to think he’s good at understanding the signals his own body sends him, so once he determines the main source of his discomfort is the fact his throat hurts like hell, it’s not hard to reach a verdict.

“Oh, fuck,” he croaks, his eyes firmly fixated on the ceiling. Seokjin shoots him a worried glance. “I caught the flu.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Seokjin replies sardonically, staring him down while he’s still holding one shoe in his hand. “Good job. Right at the end of break.”

“My brother needed assistance,” Yoongi whines, hiding in the pillow out of frustration. “I’m fucked. My body hurts.”

“Well, you can’t go to class looking like that.” His roommate finally finishes putting on his shoes and picks up his messenger bag. “You’re paler than a zombie.”

“I want to die,” Yoongi whines again, his words coming out muffled against the fabric. “I can’t skip class right when lectures start.”

“Looks like you’ll have to,” Seokjin simply informs him, shrugging. “I’d stay here, but I can’t miss organic chemistry. Check your temperature or something.”

“You’re useless,” Yoongi tells him just as Seokjin is opening the door. He shrugs again and waves his hand at him, before heading out and leaving him alone in the silence of the room.

“Why does the universe hate me?” he says out loud, cringing when it causes him to cough. Great, now he can’t even speak. “Fuck.”

Once he makes sure he does have the flu, he drags himself back to bed and crawls under the sheets, silently praying Seokjin locked the door. He doesn’t think he’s exaggerating, but his bones feel like they’re about to fall apart. For once, he was ready to study with a proper method and constantly, but he supposes that’s out of the window now. 

The complete silence gets broken when he lets out a groan and sinks into the pillow again. Even trying to think hurts, so he gives up and decides to go back to sleep.




“Hi.” Namjoon sits down in front of what’s basically everyone but Taehyung. “Have any of you seen Yoongi around?”

“Nope,” Sooyoung replies, a knowing look in her eyes. Namjoon frowns at her. “I haven’t.”

“He’s in our room,” Seokjin offers when he realizes Hoseok isn’t going to say anything. “He came down with the flu. He’s stuck in bed.”

“Oh.” Namjoon involuntarily bites his lower lip. “Is he okay?”

Hoseok smirks, which confuses him.

“I mean, he’s not about to die or anything.” Namjoon winces at those words, but doesn’t say anything. “It’s like his immune system gave up and made up for him not getting sick in like four years.”

Namjoon glares at Seokjin. “And you left him alone?”

“Damn, sorry. I had class,” Seokjin deadpans, raising an eyebrow. “Go to him if you want to be a nurse.”

“I’ve had enough of that,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate. Seokjin’s expression doesn’t change. “Fine. I don’t have anything to do, anyway. I’ll check on him.”

“Oh, if you go you gotta bring him something to drink at least, he’s terrible at that,” Hoseok finally speaks up. “Food, maybe. Come with me to the shared kitchen, I have some ready.”

Seokjin nods at that and takes a key out of his pocket to hand it to him. “The door’s locked.”

As he follows Hoseok in the hallway, he really just can’t shake the feeling he just got set up.

“So he just woke up with it?” he asks, begrudgingly accepting all the stuff Hoseok is dropping in his arms. He just can’t help but worry when it comes to that, be it Yoongi or whoever else. 

“Yeah.” Hoseok hands him a thermos. “When he arrived he had a cold. It probably just escalated, but you knew that already.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “And what makes you think that?”

“I’m pretty sure your close encounters are enough to notice someone has a cold,” he just says, walking him out on the hallway. “Go to him.”

“I think you’ve got it backwards,” Namjoon tries to defend himself, avoiding Hoseok’s eyes, but his roommate isn’t having it.

“See you,” he tells him, walking away without elaborating further. 

Namjoon stares at the door to Yoongi’s room for a good two or three minutes before he finds the strength to actually knock on it. When he gets no answer, he rolls his eyes and opens it using the key Seokjin gave him, trying not to change his mind at the last minute and run away.

The room is eerily quiet. He looks around, feeling somewhat awkward, until his eyes land on one of the two beds, where a small figure, supposedly Yoongi, is wrapped up in a blanket that covers his entire body. A sudden wave of affection hits him at the sight of that, but he immediately shoves it down and coughs.

A groan comes from under the covers, muffled by the fabric, which at least can only mean Yoongi is awake.

Namjoon puts the thermos Hoseok left him on the nightstand and looks down on the bed, his arms crossed on his chest.

“How did you get in here,” Yoongi laments, his face hidden in the pillow. “Can never have some peace.”

He doesn’t know how Yoongi managed to recognize him with his head buried under all that fabric, but he doesn’t ask. That would probably be another conversation he’s not ready to endure.

“Seokjin gave me his key,” Namjoon explains eventually. “I brought you tea and other stuff, I don’t know. Hoseok made it, actually. If you get worse, it won’t be my fault.”

Yoongi finally appears out of the jungle of blankets on his mattress, sporting a glorious bedhead and dark circles under his eyes. Namjoon swallows, finding himself almost unable to look away from him. He looks like he’s in pain, and he doesn’t like it.

“I feel like complete shit,” he groans, rubbing his face with his hands.

Namjoon bites his lip, trying to keep his brain under control while he leaves Hoseok’s things on Yoongi’s nightstand. “You look like it, too.”

“Honestly?” Yoongi wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and looks at it with a disgusted grimace. “If you just came to insult me, you’re free to leave.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, annoyance slowly creeping its way out of the small hint of affection he had growing.

“You know what? Why didn’t I think of it, you’re right.” He lets his arms fall along his hips and moves his hair out of his face. “Have a nice day.”

As Namjoon walks away, Yoongi doesn’t answer and starts coughing instead, hiding his face in the pillow once again when he calms down. Namjoon is left with his hand on his doorknob, feeling vaguely guilty. Out of the corner of his eye, Yoongi is covering himself again with the blanket, the tea left untouched on the nightstand.

“Oh, to hell with it,” he mutters and lets go of the door, turning around to his bed.

Yoongi doesn’t react and rather keeps staying hidden, but he can see him lightly shivering under the covers. He sighs and pulls out the chair from his desk, then walks up to his closet and opens it, looking around until he finds what he’s looking for. When he covers him with another blanket, Yoongi hums on the pillow, too tired to do anything else.

“Do you have a mug in here somewhere?”

“Shelf,” is all he replies with, leaving Namjoon to look for it himself.

“Why is there a koala on this?” he asks, confused.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi says dryly without moving a muscle.

“Did he start giving out souvenirs to you too?”


“You know, I didn’t actually throw away that shirt, it just was kind of ugly. It’s in my closet.”

He wasn’t really expecting a response, so when it doesn’t come he shrugs it off and decides to do what he came for in the first place. He opens the thermos and pours its content into the mug, adding the honey Hoseok gave him once he’s done. He takes it and sits down on the chair next to the bed, tapping Yoongi on his shoulder.

Yoongi lets out a whine and doesn’t move.

“You need to stay hydrated,” Namjoon says flatly. “Don’t be a child.”

That seems to do the trick, because Yoongi finally sits up, albeit with some difficulties, and hesitantly takes the mug when Namjoon hands it to him.

“I’m not trying to poison you, drink it.” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Did you take anything?”

Yoongi shakes his head as he takes a sip of the hot liquid, trying not to burn his tongue. He’s clearly been sweating, his hair flat from being pressed into the pillow, and he looks like every movement he makes causes him pain.

“Good, don’t. If it’s not, like, a stomach virus, you need to wait until it goes down on its own.”

“I feel like shit,” he says again.

“I know.” Namjoon leans in to place a hand on his forehead, frowning when he feels it’s burning hot. “It’s just a reaction to the symptoms. If you mask them they only get worse. I’m pretty sure it’ll go down in a couple of days. You need the rest.”

He hurriedly takes away his hand, oddly self-conscious of how domestic it felt.

“Are you an expert or something?” he mutters, handing him the mug back.

“My sister used to get sick a lot,” Namjoon replies, but doesn’t add anything else. It’s not like he owes him an explanation.

“She okay now?”

“Technically,” he says simply.

Yoongi nods, probably too far gone to even begin thinking about what that means, and closes his eyes. Namjoon internally sighs in relief at his lack of follow-up questions. His head falls back on the pillow, with his hair ending up all over the place.

He really needs to cut it, Namjoon thinks, but it’s not exactly his place to tell him what to do with his hair — he’s done it enough when talking about the ludicrous way Yoongi bleaches it, so he acts on instinct. He takes a hair tie out of the mess of bracelets he has on his wrist and arm, trying not to overthink it.

“Tie that shit back,” he says flatly, handing it to him. “You’re sweating. It’s suffocating you.”

“Why do you have a hair tie on your wrist?” he asks, his voice raspy.

“None of your business,” Namjoon snaps, and then pauses to take a deep breath. “Just take it and shut up. Don’t lose it.”

“Okay,” Yoongi mutters and tries to put it on. He actually looks kind of ridiculous with it on, but at least his forehead is finally able to breathe. Namjoon tries not to stare at him. “I won’t.”


They look at each other for a couple of seconds. Namjoon is the first to react, feeling oddly awkward, and he fixes the blanket under his face. Yoongi closes his eyes, trying to relax his muscles.

“Try to get some sleep,” Namjoon suggests as he stands up, glancing at him. “I left you a bottle of water next to the bed. Drink it when you can.”

He makes for the door to leave, and he’s almost there when Yoongi speaks again.

“Don’t leave?” he mutters in a strained, barely audible voice. “Please.”

Namjoon bites his lower lip, caught by surprise by his words. The more he looks at his pained expression, the more he actually wants to stay there. He looks so vulnerable, probably for the first time since they started this whole thing, whatever it is, and it feels so undeniably wrong.

“Fine,” he finally says, going back to him and hoping he won’t regret it. “If you sleep.”

This time he sits on his bed in the small space left from the way Yoongi’s lying on it. Before he can stop himself, his fingers are on his forehead again, slowly caressing his skin. Yoongi hums in the pillow, half of his face hidden, and Namjoon starts stroking his hair.

Yoongi slowly drifts off to sleep, his expression slightly more relaxed. Namjoon stares at him, a softness in his gaze he didn’t know he had, and his fingers gradually stop until all he’s doing is lightly keep his hand on his temple.

He hasn’t done this in a while, a long while. Flashbacks of sterile hallways and white walls and hospital beds hit him like a truck, so he closes his eyes, trying to shove them away. Yoongi moves slightly on the pillow and the motion startles him, bringing him back to reality. He exhales a breath and looks at him.

His features are oddly peaceful, though he’s still sweating a bit, but Namjoon finds he doesn’t care, and starts to lightly brush his fingertips on his cheekbones again. He tells himself it’s just flu and he’ll be fine, but even the fact he’s worrying so much makes him question everything.

It’s foreign, what he’s feeling. He doesn’t know what to make of it or how to handle it, so he’ll just have to try and keep it at bay.



Seokjin pushes the door open and gets inside. Namjoon gets startled by the noise and turns around, his phone still in his hands.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon confirms, avoiding his eyes. “He’s sleeping.”

“And you’re still here?”

“Mind your own business, Seokjin,” Namjoon snaps, turning his back to him.

“It wasn’t an attack,” he says defensively. “I was just asking. You can stay all you want.”

“I have my reasons, alright? Go study or something.”

“Actually, I came to sleep, but since you asked so nicely I can go back and stay with Hoseok.”

“Yeah, whatever, take my bed if you want,” he dismisses him, not even completely listening. “And lower your voice, you’re gonna wake him up.”

“Okay then.” Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Bye, hyung.”

He doesn’t bother replying and just sighs once the door locks behind him, relieved they’re alone again. Yoongi moves in his sleep, and Namjoon finds himself looking at him.

He’s still sweating, though he’s been mostly calm up until now. Namjoon knows he’s going to end up catching something from him, from the way they kissed when he got back and from being near him all that time, but he doesn’t care. The concern he’s feeling has practically overtaken everything else by now.

Yoongi hums on the pillow. When Namjoon gently rests his hand on his arm, he lets out a sneeze in the mattress, startling him.

“You awake?”

Yoongi barely nods, but it’s enough to let him know he is.

“Have you been here all afternoon?” he asks, his voice coming out raspy. He clears his throat with a cough before speaking again.

“Yeah,” Namjoon confirms. “I guess I didn’t have anything else to do.”

He nods again, so Namjoon gathers he’s awake enough to stand straight.

“You should drink water, you know,” he tells him, grabbing the bottle from the floor and handing it to him. “You slept for a while.”

“A while?” He takes it and stares at it with tired eyes. “What time is it?”


He drinks some of it slowly and places the bottle on his leg, holding it in his hand. “Six hours?”


“What did you do for six hours?”

Namjoon shrugs and takes the bottle back once he’s done drinking. “I’ve been writing.”

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

“Well, you asked,” he says quietly. “I don’t mind.”

“I just meant until I fell asleep,” Yoongi points out, slowly lying down again. “Thanks, though.”

“It’s whatever, really.”

“I can’t believe I got sick right after winter break, I’m gonna be behind on so many assignments,” he mutters, hiding half of his face under the blanket. “I feel like shit. I want it gone.”

“It’s gonna be three or four days at the very least, if your body works some magic.”

“Three days?” he asks in disbelief. “Fuck.”

“How did you even get sick? Did you have a snowball fight or something?”

“It was my little brother who got sick.” He closes his eyes and fixes his head on the pillow. “There’s a possibility I stayed with him when I shouldn’t have.”

Namjoon’s expression darkens, but Yoongi misses it as he slips completely under the covers.

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah, he’s six. He probably sneezed in my direction and I didn’t notice. I don’t mind, though. I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

“That’s cute,” he says weakly. “Hope he’s fine.”

“Hmm, yeah. I think he’s gonna go back to school tomorrow.”

Namjoon stays quiet until Yoongi sticks his head out of the sheets and speaks again.

“Wait, why are you still here if it’s ten?”

He shrugs, trying to look convincing. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

“I have a roommate.”

“He’s incompetent.”

“But —”

“Goddammit, Yoongi,” he says, and then takes a deep breath. “Shut the fuck up and let me do this one thing for you. Please?”

“How does this even benefit you? You want to sleep in Seokjin’s bed?”

“I’m not gonna sleep in his bed,” he says as a matter of fact. “Scoot over.”

“What —”

Namjoon raises the blanket, making him shudder from the sudden absence of it, and kicks his shoes off before sneaking into bed with him. Yoongi looks at him in disbelief.


“Stop asking questions,” he says, clearly irritated. “I won’t get sick. Why aren’t you wearing a shirt? You’re making things worse.”

“Because I sleep naked.” Yoongi keeps staring at him as he holds back another sneeze. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I told you to stop asking questions. Just rest.”

“I don’t even know if I can let my guard down when you’re in my bed and I’m almost dead.”

“Don’t say that,” he says before he can stop himself. “Okay. You’re acting like we’ve never slept in the same bed before.”

“Once,” Yoongi reminds him in a monotone.

“So what? Pretend I’m not here.”

“I don’t understand you sometimes,” he mutters, but he stops complaining.

“I don’t really care.”

Yoongi snorts and turns his back to him, resting on his side. Namjoon hugs him from behind with one arm, throwing it over his stomach so his hand can reach Yoongi’s to envelop it with his fingers.

“Sleep,” he whispers in his ear as Yoongi closes his eyes. “I’ll be with you when you wake up.”

“Okay,” he says before squeezing his hand back.



“Eat it.”

“It looks disgusting.”

“Take it up with Hoseok, then.” Namjoon glares at the shorter boy, his arms crossed on his chest. “He made it.”

Yoongi stares back at him. “But you brought it to me.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Namjoon can tell he really doesn’t want to eat it, but he knows something in his eyes must have at least intimidated him, because soon enough he’s already finished it all.

“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that bad.”

A sigh escapes Namjoon’s lips, but he tries not to be snarky. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“You have the audacity to think I can stand having you in my room for three days straight? I don’t think it will work out.”

“Well.” Namjoon sighs again. “You don’t have much choice.”

“You need to stop acting like you own the place.”

“And you need to stop acting like you don’t need help all the time,” Namjoon finally snaps, tired of Yoongi’s behavior. “I know you think I’m a huge asshole, but even I know better than to act like it when you’re not feeling well.”

Yoongi suddenly looks like he wants to retreat under his blanket again, but ultimately decides against it.

“I never said you were an asshole,” he murmurs eventually, looking away. “Okay. Stay, but you’re not missing more classes than you have to.”

“Of course.” Namjoon snorts. “I’m a lot of things, and I’m an asshole too, but I’m not stupid.”


“No, it’s fair. I am an asshole.” He takes a deep breath and grabs his hand to envelop it with his fingers. It's a tad sweaty and clammy, but he doesn’t mind. “You should rest, now.”

Yoongi frowns, but doesn’t complain and just tries to find a better position on the bed. “Okay.”



Taehyung throws a pen at Jungkook, hitting him on the arm, and he whines in pain.

“What the fuck?” he exclaims, throwing it back to him at twice the speed. “Asshole.”

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Hoseok says, sitting down at the table with Jimin just as Taehyung tries to get a kiss out of Jungkook and he smacks his hand away.

“They’re getting on my nerves,” Sooyoung answers for them, without looking up from whatever she’s writing. “Stop them.”

“Stop talking about us like we’re not here,” Jungkook mutters. “Taehyung started it.”

“What is this, kindergarten?” Seokjin says flatly, making Hoseok laugh. “Cut it out, kids.”

Taehyung crosses his arms on his chest. “Whatever.”

“I was gonna ask,” Sooyoung says after a comfortable silence settles in. “I’ll bite. Anyone seen Namjoon?”

Seokjin licks his lips. “Yep. He’s with Yoongi.”

“They’re still together?” Hoseok voices. “Huh. It’s been three days.”

“Yeah, he just randomly decided being a nurse is his call in life or something. I think Yoongi’s fine, though. He was saying he was gonna go to class tomorrow.”

“Is it me or has Namjoon been acting weird lately?” Taehyung says, looking at the others. “Like, the last few weeks.”

“He’s always weird, but yeah.” Jimin nods. “Around the start of winter break? He never talks about himself. Who knows what it is.”

“What should we do?“ Jungkook asks, instantly worried. “He didn’t seem like himself.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know. If he doesn’t want to say what it is, we can’t force him. I just wonder why he’s so protective towards Yoongi all of a sudden.”

“Because he likes him,” Jimin states like it’s a fact.

“Yeah, but — this is out of character for him. You know how they are.”

Seokjin frowns. “I don’t know, but he gotta stop stealing my bed. As soon as Yoongi goes back to class tomorrow I’m kicking him out.”

“That’s funny,” Taehyung says. “How did that even happen?”



“I think you’re fine,” Namjoon says, the palm of his hand on Yoongi’s forehead. “Check it tomorrow.”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah, I feel okay. I need to go to class.”

“I guess you can.” Namjoon shrugs. “Now sleep.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, looking away.

“For what?”

“For staying with me. Even though Seokjin could have probably done it. Thank you anyway.”

“It’s nothing,” Namjoon says, brushing it off as they settle in bed again, chest to chest. He leans in to leave a kiss on his forehead, and Yoongi closes his eyes. “Good night.”

Yoongi makes a non committal noise on the pillow and exhales a deep breath. Namjoon keeps staring at him, some of the anxiety that pervaded his chest up until now gone. He’s no longer struggling to breathe and his cough has died down, along with his temperature.

He knows he’s fine, but a tiny part of him wants to act irrationally, without letting him breathe for a second. He can’t help but let his mind go the place it’s been threatening him with for the last three days, and before he can stop it, he falls asleep with the same scene playing in his head.


Yoongi gets woken up by loud shuffling next to him. He opens his eyes, trying to realize what’s going on, and hears Namjoon’s voice saying something in his sleep. He tries to glance at the clock, and it tells him it’s three in the morning.

He turns around to face him. He’s whispering under his breath. It doesn’t exactly sound like coherent words, and at the same time he doesn’t know who or what he’s referring to. His eyes land on his face, and there are tears rolling down his cheeks in his sleep, like he’s having a nightmare and he can’t wake up.

“Namjoon?” he says, unsure of how to approach him to wake him up. “Hey?”

Namjoon sobs in his sleep, so he grabs him by the shoulders in an attempt to bring him back to reality.

“Namjoon?” he repeats, slightly shaking them. He doesn’t react, but small whimpers keep escaping his lips, so he shakes him again, harder this time. “Talk to me.”

“Wake up,” he says, louder, and Namjoon’s eyes go wide as he leaves his sleep immediately, almost out of breath.

Another sob comes out of him and he crawls immediately in Yoongi’s arms, as if he’s not really in control of his actions. He wraps him in a tight embrace, taken aback by the situation. His chest feels wet, and Yoongi realizes Namjoon hasn’t stopped crying.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, sitting straighter and pulling him along. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

“Sorry,” he barely manages to whisper without stuttering, though he doesn’t make a move to get away from Yoongi’s arms. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he repeats with more confidence, leaving a kiss on the top of his head. “Just breathe, Namjoon, please.”

He nods fervently, taking a deep breath before exhaling, then rests his head on his chest again. Tears are still coming out and he’s given up on trying to stop them. Yoongi continues holding him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear to keep him distracted.

“Baby, you’re fine, I’m here,” he says, combing a hand through his hair to keep it out of his face.

He doesn’t realize the pet name that slipped through until a couple of seconds later, but Namjoon gives no sign of having heard it.

He hears him sniffling, finally breathing almost properly, so he takes his face in his hands to leave a light kiss on his forehead and dry the traces his tears left on his skin with gentle brushes of his fingertips.

Namjoon kisses him impulsively, pushing him back down on the bed while Yoongi kisses him back, hoping to let him have a distraction out of it. It doesn’t take much for him to come apart from Yoongi’s lips though, and before they both know it he’s crying again, hiding in Yoongi’s neck.

“Can — can we stay like this?” he whispers against his skin, his words coming out in a stutter. “Please.”

“Of course,” Yoongi replies softly, completely overwhelmed by a vulnerability he never thought he’d see on Namjoon. “Let it out. Whatever it is.”

Namjoon nods, shuddering under his touch. He’s almost abandoned on his lap by now, with Yoongi sitting up on the mattress with him in his arms, his chin lightly resting on Namjoon’s shoulder. The dorm is filled with complete silence, the only thing breaking it being Namjoon’s now more sporadic sobs on his chest.

“It’s over, it’s okay,” he whispers again, and Namjoon seems to react to it as he nods.

“Thank you,” he mutters against his skin, exhausted. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Yoongi sighs softly, removing his head from Namjoon’s body to look at him in the eyes and slowly touching his hair to get them out of his face. “What happened?”

Namjoon swallows hard. He’s not crying anymore, though his eyes are puffy and red, and his cheeks are stained with dried tears again. Yoongi lightly touches them. “Nightmare.”

“What was it?”

“Nothing.” Namjoon looks down, avoiding his gaze. “I just don’t do well around sick people.”

“Why did you stay with me then?” Yoongi winces. “I’m not accusing you. I don’t get it.”

“Because I’m fucking scared, Yoongi,” he says, his tone slightly louder even though they’re both still whispering. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you. Or the others. I just — I’m sorry.”

“What are you scared of? I’m not gonna die.”

“Stop — just stop saying that.” Namjoon takes a deep breath and throws his head back to get out of the grip of his hands.

“I don’t understand,” Yoongi admits. He’s trying, though.

“Okay, I — fuck.” Namjoon gets out of his embrace with a rough gesture and turns around, his back resting on his chest. On an automatic reflex, Yoongi wraps his arms around him again. He doesn’t complain, so he holds him tighter. “I’ve never told anyone.”

“You can tell me if you want. I’m here.”

There’s silence for a long stretched out moment, but Yoongi doesn’t say anything, because it’s not his place to do so. He just waits, giving Namjoon time to think.

“My sister died two years ago, when I was a sophomore,” he says bluntly and out of nowhere, his voice so low Yoongi barely hears him. “A couple of days after Christmas.”

His heart sinks at those words, but he stays quiet, waiting for him to speak. They’ve been uttered with so much clinical distance, that Yoongi almost flinches.

“I don’t think I’m over it as much as I thought I was,” he says with a bitter laugh that makes Yoongi’s chest hurt. “I wasn’t there for most of it, because they said she would pull through, but then it got so bad I left a couple of weeks before winter break and spent most of it in the hospital.”

He pauses, trying to pull himself together. When he speaks again, his voice is slightly louder.

“She had a weak immune system. I’ll spare you the details of everything she went through, but it’s constantly in the back of my mind. She was — she was five. It felt like I lost everything.”

Yoongi takes his hand and squeezes it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, resting his forehead on Namjoon’s back. “That’s terrible, Joon. I’m sorry.”

“I tried going back home for winter break last year, but I kept having panic attacks,” he continues, unable to restrain himself once he started. “I know you probably think it’s stupid to be still so hung up on this —”

“No,” he interrupts him firmly. “It’s not stupid. Don’t ever think that.”

Namjoon bites his lip and stares at the way his hand is still enveloped in Yoongi’s fingers.

“If anything happened to my brother, I don’t know what I’d do,” he says, leaving a kiss on his shoulder blades. “I can’t even imagine it. He’s the most important person to me. I’m so sorry.”

He nods at his words, slightly more at ease with himself. “Yeah. It’s clear he is.”

The pieces of the puzzle start suddenly to make sense, fitting in the timeline as they crowd Yoongi’s brain.

“I cried when I read your second book.”

“You did?”

“Some things didn’t make sense to me as I read it, but I think I get it now. You wrote it after that, didn’t you?”

Namjoon nods.

“Is that also when you stopped playing football?”

“My head wasn’t in it anymore. I realized I was only doing it because everyone expected me to, so I quit.”

“It happened right before we started doing all that shit to each other,” Yoongi thinks out loud. 


“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Namjoon chuckles bitterly. “You didn’t know. It’s funny, though. It kept me distracted and stopped me from doing a lot of differently stupid things. You were actually helping me, and you weren’t even aware of it.”

They stay in silence for a while, Namjoon abandoned in Yoongi’s arms, until something else comes to Yoongi’s mind.



He lets his hand go to bring it to his own hair and free it.

“Is this hers?” he says, handing him the hair tie with a careful expression.

Namjoon takes it immediately and puts it on his wrist. “Yes.”

Yoongi nods, not knowing what to say. There’s no need to.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” he tells him in the end. “It’s late.”

Yoongi pulls him down on the mattress and he covers them both with the blanket, making sure Namjoon is still with him. He keeps him close to his chest, waiting for him to fall asleep.

It suddenly hits him just how much he doesn’t know about the boy resting in his arms and what brought him to what he is now. He had him fooled, trying to pass off as an asshole, and he believed it. The words Seokjin said to him echo in his brain.

He wants him, he’s well aware of it by now, but he now knows he wants him just like he is, with his bad temper and the issues he tries so hard to keep hidden.

The problem is whether Namjoon wants the same or not, and the more he thinks about it, the more Yoongi realizes he’s not ready. Namjoon’s broken — and he’s not sure he can fix it all on his own.

Namjoon moves slightly in his sleep, startling him. He looks agitated, but determined to rest at the same time. It’s funny how roles can be reversed so quickly and beliefs turned around in the blink of an eye.

He just wishes dealing with it was easier.

Chapter Text

“Quit it.”

Namjoon pokes him on the arm for the third time in a row. Yoongi exhales a heavy sigh.



There’s a couple of seconds of silence. Namjoon sticks his pen in Yoongi’s skin for the fourth time. “Make me.”

Finally, Yoongi turns around as slowly as possible, a glare on his face. “I’m not gonna fall for it.”

“Fall for what?” Namjoon asks, trying to make it look innocent. “You know what you have to do.”

“You’re fucking annoying.” He shows him the middle finger and gives his attention back to his tablet, determined to finish the scene he’s working on. “Why are you here? I have the dialogues. Go to your room.”

“This is a collaboration, in case you forgot,” Namjoon points out, raising an eyebrow. “I need to supervise.”

“Actually, you need to shut the fuck up.” Yoongi frowns at the screen. “You’re distracting me.”

“You call that distracting?” A smirk appears on his face. “I’ll show you distracting.”

“How about you show me helpful and start writing for next chapter?” Yoongi mutters, trying to ignore Namjoon’s overwhelming presence. “I’m kinda busy, here.”

Ever since that night, everything seems to have gone back to normal — if what they have going on can be classified as normal. Namjoon hitting on him, Yoongi surrendering to him, both of them getting out of bed as soon as Namjoon decides they’re done. Yoongi trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt him, when the truth is, it does. He really wishes he had the will to put a stop to it, but as it turns out, that’s not the case. The only good thing about all of this, though, is that Namjoon actually started to put effort in their work — like he really cares about it, now.

Yoongi doesn’t know what changed, but he’s not about to complain about that anytime soon.  

“Nah, you’re not busy. You are way ahead of schedule.” Namjoon draws closer to him and brings a hand to his face, his fingertips slowly brushing against his skin. A faint blush starts creeping up Yoongi’s neck. “Loosen up a bit.”

Defeated, Yoongi follows the careful touch of Namjoon’s hand and looks up at him. He’s smiling, and Yoongi leans in almost immediately. 

“It’s almost too easy sometimes,” is the last thing he whispers before they’re kissing.

“Stop talking,” Yoongi whispers on his lips, determined to at least drown out his unwanted comments. “Just kiss me.”

Surprisingly, Namjoon does, and Yoongi kisses him back, latching on to his shoulders and as he somehow ends up on his lap. The kiss lasts way too long for their standards, and when Namjoon moves the action to his neck, Yoongi finally interrupts it.

“Are you trying to fuck me or what?” he asks, his voice more confused than anything else. “Just checking.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “Do we always have to fuck?”

“I don’t know, isn’t that what we’re here for?”

“We’re here for the comic,” Namjoon points out, resting his hand on Yoongi’s thigh. “The rest is damage control.”

Yoongi frowns, trying to ignore the contact between them. “I’m not following.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He stands up, letting him slide off his legs gently. Yoongi frowns again, but Namjoon puts his hands on his hips and attracts their bodies together. “Overthinking is bad for you.”

“But I —” 

“Nope.” He smirks, leaning in. “No buts.”

Namjoon’s eyes are on him like something he can’t avoid, and he’s looking at him with a spark in them he can’t quite place. Their staring contest lasts a couple more seconds, until their lips eventually meet again. It’s odd, but for once there’s no rush — no lust, or aggression, and for a while it’s just them, standing in the middle of Yoongi’s room. 

There’s barely even any involvement of tongue on Namjoon’s part, and Yoongi’s confused, because it’s the first time they do this without following it up with sex, and he wonders what it means. Namjoon hums softly in the kiss, seemingly incapable of letting go of Yoongi’s body as he moves away from the desk and brings them both to bed. 

Yoongi is almost ready to sigh in relief at the gesture, but Namjoon pushes him down on the mattress and just keeps kissing him. His hands end up under Yoongi’s shirt and their legs almost intertwine, though Namjoon only lets go of his lips when he’s forced to by lack of air. Yoongi lets him.

“This is nice,” he murmurs at some point, carefully taking off Yoongi’s shirt. The second he’s done, his hands go up to his face again. “I don’t know why I never noticed you’re as good at kissing as you are at everything else.”

There’s a moment of silence in which Yoongi’s heart skips a beat, but he recovers quickly. “You mean sexually?”

“I mean what I said.”

Yoongi thinks it over for a second, then raises an eyebrow. “Since when?”

“You might be an asshole sometimes, but I never denied you’re amazingly talented.” Namjoon frowns at the way Yoongi is now glaring at him. “What?”

“I don’t know.” He draws in a deep sigh and turns to the side, away from Namjoon’s grip. He’s on edge, and it’s making him uneasy. “This is weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“This,” Yoongi repeats to emphasize the word. Their eyes meet again as he turns back around. “Compliments. You kissing me like that. I don’t get it.”

“I’m just being decent?” Namjoon sits up on the mattress and drags Yoongi with him. Their hands stay joined, but Yoongi doesn’t point it out. It feels good. “What’s the big issue?”

“It’s just weird, I don’t get how you don’t see it.” Yoongi exhales shakily, trying to find the words. “You’re acting like — like we’re together or some shit.”

As if he read his mind, Namjoon lets go of his hand. “And that bothers you?”

“Yeah? No, I mean, I —” He pauses, aware of the fact he’s probably blushing. “Yes.”

“Oh.” Namjoon stares at him blankly for a moment, until he shrugs. “Okay.”

Yoongi looks at him in surprise. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats, and shrugs again. “I’ll stop, I guess.”

“It’s not that I want you to stop —”

“No, I get it,” he interrupts him, shaking his head slightly. “It’s whatever. You’re right.”

“Okay.” Yoongi bites his bottom lip out of nervousness. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.” Namjoon sighs. A spark of something that looks like disappointment flashes in his eyes briefly, but it disappears as quickly as it came. “Wanna fuck?”

Yoongi snorts. “I’m already half naked, so I guess.”

That seems to be enough for Namjoon, so he just takes off his own shirt and pushes him down on the mattress again.

This time, it feels like there’s more bitterness and desperation in Namjoon’s thrusts than there usually is, but Yoongi is too busy being on the receiving end to notice.




The library is virtually deserted, the only people around being the librarian on duty at the front desk, a girl typing on her laptop, and the two of them arguing quietly over a plot point. Yoongi isn’t really sure why they ended up in the library today — maybe a weak attempt to find a middle ground. Plus, Seokjin was in their room studying, and he didn’t feel like enduring his judgmental stare.

“This feels out of character, though,” Yoongi complains, pointing at a line on Namjoon’s laptop. “Like, would he say it?”

“I don’t know anymore.” Namjoon sighs and leans back on his chair. “I’m tired. Can we take a break?”

Yoongi glances at the librarian, who luckily isn’t paying them any attention. The library is so empty she probably doesn’t even care about people making noise. 

“I guess.” There’s a moment of silence between them, though it’s weirdly not tense. At least they accomplished one thing. “Why aren’t you arguing about it?”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him. “Because I’m tired and we’re ahead of schedule anyway.”

“I still don’t get what your idea of schedule is. Who decided our schedule?”

“I did,” Namjoon shoots back, like it’s written in stone. Yoongi stares at him blankly. “What?”

“You did just because you can say we’re ahead when you can’t be bothered.”

“That’s not true.” He frowns for a second, looking as if he’s thinking hard about the miracle of life. “We’re like two thirds through it and it’s like February. I’d call that being ahead of schedule.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi brushes it off, too worn out by their bickering to argue. “Once we’re done with the story you’ll be free, anyway. I’m the one who has to do the hard work.”

“Well, it is your comic.”

“I know.”

Namjoon bites his bottom lip, looking confused all of a sudden. “Wait, what do you mean I’ll be free?”

“It’s not like you draw.” Yoongi looks at his hands, just to do something. He knew a conversation of this kind was coming, he just didn’t know when. “Once you’re done writing, I’m not forcing you to help.”

“What if I wanna stay?”

Yoongi swallows, unsure of what to say. The library starts to feel way smaller than it actually is, and he can feel his piercing stare on himself even if he’s not looking at him directly.

“Then stay.” Namjoon hums a non-committal noise, causing Yoongi to finally look up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure.” A smirk appears on his face, and that seems enough to break the weird atmosphere that formed. “Gotta make sure you don’t ruin it.”

“Haha, so funny,” Yoongi says, hoping the sarcasm comes across clearly. “Thanks for the babysitting offer, but I’m sure I can manage.”

Namjoon shrugs, which leaves him with virtually nothing else to say. He was expecting a snarky remark, another insult, maybe — but he’s simply going back to his laptop to save the document and close the writing program. 

Not satisfied with his reaction, he speaks again. “So what would you staying imply in the context of the comic?”

“Where did you learn all those big words?” Namjoon replies, ignoring the question. “I’m impressed.”

Yoongi sighs. “Just answer, Namjoon.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, honestly,” he says eventually. “I can help? I don’t know. We made this together. I’m interested.”

“Okay then.” Yoongi shifts in his chair, deciding to drop it. “If that’s what you want.”

“Why does it feel like you’re actively trying to make me leave?”

“Well,” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, “you don’t exactly like me, I just assumed you’d want out as soon as possible.”

“Who the fuck told you —”


Yoongi tunes out the rest of Namjoon’s sentence and looks up, hearing his name being called out. When his eyes meet Chanyeol’s smiling figure, he immediately mirrors his expression and stands up to give him a hug and say hi, leaving Namjoon to look at the scene with a frown on his face.

“Hi,” Yoongi says, letting go of him with a shy look on his face. “Didn’t see you there.”

Chanyeol laughs. “I was in the back. For some reason, philosophy materials get dumped away from the human eye in this place.”

“Oh.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps staring at him, wondering why he’s so nervous about it all of a sudden. “Makes sense.”

“Sure.” Chanyeol smirks at him, but Yoongi is too busy keeping the color of his cheeks under control. “I didn’t think I would bump into you here. I never got that text. Was that intentional?”

Yoongi almost chokes on his own breath, the sudden realization he’d completely forgotten about texting him back almost making him become a walking shade of crimson red. He definitely didn’t do it on purpose. Between being stuck in bed for four days, to having to catch up on assignments as a direct consequence of it, and — well, Namjoon and everything that came with him, it had totally slipped out of his mind.

“I forgot,” he admits quietly, hoping to make it clear he isn’t lying. “I got sick like, the day after I got back, and then one thing led to another —”

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol cuts him off with a chuckle. Yoongi closes his mouth. “Just making sure it wasn’t intentional.”

Yoongi shakes his head, aware he’s still blushing. “It wasn’t.”

“Oh, shit,” the taller boy exclaims, looking past Yoongi’s shoulder. He walks past him and nods in Namjoon’s direction with a smile. “Sorry, how rude of me. I didn’t see you. Hi.”

Yoongi turns around. When he sees the way Namjoon is glaring at him, he swallows on instinct. In the various degrees of embarrassment he’d gone through in front of Chanyeol, Namjoon’s presence had basically disappeared from his mind.

“Hey.” Namjoon raises an eyebrow at Chanyeol. “Do I know you?”

“Don’t think so.” Chanyeol seems to pay no mind to his not exactly friendly behavior and just shakes his head. “I know you, though. Yoongi mentioned you. Well, I knew you before he did, but still.”

“Huh, he did?” Namjoon glances at him with a sly look in his eyes, which Yoongi returns with a glare. “Obviously.”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol frowns at their non-verbal exchange, but doesn’t comment on it. “Well, I’m Chanyeol. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Namjoon says, and even though Chanyeol probably didn’t notice, Yoongi knows him enough by now to be sure there was a hint of sarcasm in it. “Are you friends with Yoongi?”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol smirks in Yoongi’s direction, making him look at the floor. “Guess you could say that.”

Namjoon’s expression doesn’t falter. “That’s nice.”

“Well, it was cool meeting you,” he just says, and turns around to face Yoongi, still smiling. Namjoon keeps staring at him as if he wants to rip his head off. “Don’t forget to text me this time.”

“I won’t,” Yoongi mutters, flustered.

Behind them, Namjoon closes his laptop and stands up abruptly, but before Yoongi can say anything to him, he’s already walking away without a word.

“Is he okay?” Chanyeol asks, clearly concerned. 

“Yeah, he’s just being himself,” Yoongi replies. He knows it was a bit unfair of him to say that but, at the same time, the fact he’d been rude to Chanyeol for no reason pissed him off. “Don’t mind him.”

“Oh, okay.” Chanyeol puts a hand on his shoulder and pats it in solidarity with a smile. “I hope he doesn’t hate me.”

Yoongi swallows at the contact. “He hates everyone.”

“It doesn’t look like he hates you,” Chanyeol states, but he doesn’t elaborate further. “Well, it was good seeing you. My friend is waiting for me.”

“Okay.” Yoongi nods. “See you around. I’ll text you.”

Chanyeol leans down at gives him a one-armed hug out of nowhere, and he barely has the time to hug him back that he’s already backing off. 

“Bye, Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s left standing there with a frown on his face, and it takes him a couple of seconds to get back to reality and realize he’s alone. In an attempt to find Namjoon — for what purpose, he doesn’t know yet — he gets out of the library, glad all they had with them was Namjoon’s laptop so he doesn’t have to carry stuff back. 

“Nice scene you had there.”

He stops walking, taken aback by those words spoken by a voice he knows all too well. He has to count to five before he actually answers.

“What was that?” Yoongi asks eventually, sarcasm evident in his words as he glares at him. “Please, enlighten me.”

“I don’t know, you were pissing me off.” He shrugs. “So I left.”

“And you waited for me outside of the library?” He can already feel himself get annoyed with him, so he’s only glad it’s late and there’s not anyone around campus. “That sounds logical.”

“What do you care what I do, anyway?” Namjoon exclaims, shooting him a pointed look. “You can’t wait to get rid of me and you already have someone else lined up, so.”

“I don’t — what? I don’t want to get rid of you. Someone else lined up? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“So you’re telling me that dude back there is your friend? Please.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, now properly annoyed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You had thirty shades of red on your face only.” Namjoon chuckles, but there’s no amusement in it. “Somehow I doubt you do that with Taehyung or Seokjin.”

“Right.” He takes a deep breath, determined not to lose his temper. “And that concerns you how, exactly?”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Namjoon says simply, then shrugs. “Just thought it was funny how clueless you are sometimes.”

Yoongi snorts out a laugh out of disbelief and nods his head at him. “Coming from you, that’s rich.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, Namjoon.” Yoongi crosses his arms on his chest. He was finding it really hard to shut up. “Nothing.”

They exchange glares for a couple of seconds and, surprisingly, Yoongi realizes there isn’t even any sexual tension for once. He’s just really fucking mad at him.

“Did you fuck him?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he tries to process what Namjoon just asked him. “What?”

“Did you two fuck?” he repeats, the question even firmer than it was three seconds ago. 

“What —” Yoongi takes a deep breath once again and closes his eyes for a second, trying to think. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

Namjoon nods. “So you fucked.”

“We were together in high school.”

“Yeah, that was four years ago.” He keeps staring at him. “I wanna know now.”

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever had to deal with,” Yoongi finally snaps, his hands balling into fists. “What if we did? Then what? Are you jealous?”

Tense silence surrounds them for a couple of seconds, until Yoongi can’t keep himself in check anymore. “We did. I fucked him. Actually, he fucked me. Explain to me how what I do with my free time concerns you. I’m listening.” 

“I don’t care what you do, just thought I should be informed if you go out and fuck random people while you also fuck me,” Namjoon replies, clearly desperate to make it sound casual. Yoongi doesn’t buy it. “When?”

“Winter break.” He doesn’t even care anymore, might as well get it all out. “Early January.”

A flash of hurt passes by Namjoon’s eyes, but he masks it instantly. Yoongi pretends not to see it.


“Well, now you know,” he says, smiling at him in a way that’s void of any actual warmth. “Can I go now, or are you interested in every single person I’ve had sex with since I was born?”

“Like I said, I don’t care.” Namjoon glares at him for what feels like the hundredth time, and Yoongi glares back, too irritated to avoid it. “Feel free to go.”

“Jeez, thanks, officer,” Yoongi exclaims sarcastically. All of a sudden, he’s dying to get out of his face. “See you when you get your shit together.”

Namjoon visibly deflates at those words, and if Yoongi wasn’t so furious, maybe he’d feel bad about it.

“Yeah, bye.”

Tired of being in his presence, Yoongi turns on his heels and walks away without looking back, his chest heavy and his mind numb.




“Not to be mean, but you look like shit.”

Yoongi barely gives Hoseok a second glance before responding. “That’s basically what being mean is.”

Hoseok, however, just takes a seat next to him and dumps his study material on the desk, ignoring his friend’s complaints. It’s barely four in the afternoon, and Yoongi is already tired of existing.

“Did you sleep last night?” Hoseok asks, and it might be Yoongi’s impending headache talking, but his Australian accent sounds more annoying than usual today. “You look like you haven’t slept in three days.”

“Are you done trying to decide whether I sleep or not?” Yoongi asks, though there’s no bite to it. He’s too tired for that. “I’ve been having trouble, I guess.”

“I see.” Hoseok opens a textbook and stares at it in distress. “Why?”

“Well, I’ve had to study.” Not a lie. He just had a test, and that surely influenced his exhaustion. “Pulled an all-nighter like the other day.”

“Okay. Just checking.” He looks at Yoongi again, a wary look on his face. “Just school stuff, then?”

“I mean, I guess.” Yoongi rubs his eyes with his hands and stays still just like that, staring into space as his head rests on his open palms. “Why?”

“So it doesn’t have anything to do with Namjoon having the same exact dark circles you’ve had in your eyes for the last week?”

Yoongi groans, feeling caught. He was sure he was hiding it well. “I don’t think so.”

“Huh.” Hoseok makes a sarcastic noise and looks down at his book again. “Sure. So you’ve been barely out of your room for like six days, and he’s been doing the same, and it’s totally unrelated.”

“Sure is.” Yoongi lets his hands fall on the table and gives him a weirded out look. “How do you know that?”

“You have a roommate.”

“You and Seokjin are friends now?”

Hoseok laughs quietly. “Now? Where have you been?”

For a moment, the idea of replying ‘in Namjoon’s bed’ passes him by, but then he decides that wouldn’t help his cause and he simply shrugs. 

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“I have.” Yoongi rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, barely holding back a yawn. “I said I’ve been studying.”

“And I don’t believe you, so.”

The answer doesn’t come, so Hoseok keeps looking at him until Yoongi sighs and gives up.

“We had a fight. That’s it.”

“And you miss him.”

Yoongi can’t help but laugh at that. “Of course I miss him.”

“And he’s been acting exactly like you have, so what does your brain get from that?”

“I —” He looks at his hands, feeling even more tired than he did five minutes ago. It’s more psychological than physical now, if he’s honest. “Yeah.”

“He’s been moping around even more than usual, and he’s constantly on edge about everything.” Hoseok shakes his head. “He saw Jimin and I kiss on Valentine’s Day and he went on about how it’s a holiday capitalism forces on us for like ten minutes. I think he spent too much time with Seokjin that one time.”

“Why is suddenly everyone friends with Seokjin now?” Yoongi asks in a weak attempt at changing topics. He was so busy ignoring Namjoon he missed Valentine’s Day without noticing. Not that he would have celebrated it otherwise.

Hoseok sees right through it and just stares at him blankly. “Talk to him. Please.”

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.” 

Hoseok seems content with his answer and gives his attention back to his textbook, so Yoongi closes his eyes and tries to focus. 

If there is one thing he knows, is that he doesn’t want to talk to him. It’s not even that he’s still mad — or actually, he is still mad, but not like he was before. It’s just that it’s all so fucking complicated with him. It’s like every time they make progress, they take five steps back. 

He still would love not to like him, but the more time goes on, the more he realizes it’s only getting worse. At least he was sure Namjoon couldn’t stand him before — now, not so much, and it’s driving him insane.

On a whim, he unlocks his phone and stares at his texts, the conversation with Chanyeol all the way back from January left abandoned a couple of rows down. Even after meeting him in the library, he still hasn’t texted him back. He shakes his head and stares at it for a while longer, until his fingers do everything on their own.

(to: chanyeol!) hi

(to: chanyeol!) :)

He’s almost about to look up and put it back in his pocket, but the screen lights up again before he can.

(from: chanyeol!) better late than never, huh?

(from: chanyeol!) just kidding. hi :)

“What are you smiling at?”

Yoongi’s head shoots up, and he can feel his ears go pink, but he keeps a straight face as his eyes meet Hoseok’s. “Memes.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“Yeah,” he says, and looks down again.




When Yoongi opens his eyes and finds himself shuffling under the covers, for a brief moment he thinks he just woke up randomly, so he falls back into the pillow and groans. There’s silence for a couple of seconds, and he’s ready to fall back asleep again, when the thing that woke him up in the first place startles him again.

He jerks his head to the side, trying to process whether the knock on the door is real or he’s just having delusions, but then it resounds in the room again, and he finally sits up on the bed.

“What the hell?” he mutters under his breath, rubbing the side of his face with his hand. He glances at Seokjin’s bed, and frowns when he sees it’s empty. He said he was going out, so either it’s him out of the door and he’d forgotten his key, or someone is out there trying to kill him. He wouldn’t mind either, to be honest.

Against his own will and judgment, he drags himself out of bed and frowns at the door, still half confused by the fact he was completely knocked out. A moment later, whoever is on the other side knocks again, making him do a double take. He shakes his head, trying to get sleep out of his eyes, and opens the door before he can change his mind.

“Oh, fuck, you’re actually here.”

“Namjoon?” he whispers, squinting at him in the dim light that illuminates the hallway. He’s still half asleep, but he would recognize him even in complete darkness. “What — what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, I —” He’s breathing heavily, and he’s still keeping his distance from the actual entrance. “I don’t know, I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry.”

He swallows, and the way he’s staring at him is making Yoongi’s heart sink. Before he can get a word in, Namjoon shakes his head and turns around, so Yoongi acts on instinct and grabs him by the arm to stop him. Namjoon stops as soon as Yoongi’s fingers wrap around his wrist, and Yoongi frowns.

Even only through minimal contact, he can feel him shaking. His skin is cold.

“What’s going on?” he whispers. When Namjoon looks at him again, he finally takes a proper look at his face, and it instantly worries him.

He’s not crying — or, at least, it doesn’t seem like it — but his eyes are slightly red and puffy, and his skin is so pale it almost scares him.

“Joon?” he says, taking a step forward to touch his face gently with his fingertips. Namjoon tries to avoid his eyes, until Yoongi moves his chin delicately and forces eye contact. “What is it?”

“Is Seokjin here?” he exhales, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“No, he’s out, I think, but why —”

“Nightmare,” he just says, barely holding back a sob. “I had another nightmare, and Hoseok — he doesn’t know about it, and I didn’t want him to worry about me and I don’t know how, but I ended up here —”

As soon as he gets what Namjoon’s saying, he immediately leads him inside, everything he felt about not talking to him dissolving as he can only think about what to do to help. 

“I’ll be here, okay?” he whispers, trying to get him into his own bed. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Namjoon nods quickly, letting Yoongi guide him. He looks so defenseless — so vulnerable and exhausted, that Yoongi can’t do anything but wrap his arms around him and hold him close to his chest under the covers, stroking his hair and letting their foreheads touch.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, closing his eyes as his body seems to relax at least slightly. “Thank you.”

“This isn’t anything you should be apologizing for,” Yoongi replies, leaving a light kiss on his nose. “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t know where to go.” Namjoon hides his face on his chest, shrinking even more on himself. Yoongi’s heart sinks a little more. “They’re so vivid, every fucking time, and it’s always like I’m back there again. It felt so real, Yoongi. For a moment, I thought it was happening all over again.”

“It’s over,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice as low and gentle as possible as he tries to unwind the tension in his muscles under his grip. “It’s over, okay? You’re not going through that again. I need you to tell me you got it.”

“I — yeah.” Namjoon sniffs quietly. “Stay with me? Please?”

“Yes.” Yoongi nods immediately, his arms still around him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Namjoon nods too, and there’s silence for a while, only broken by their breathing and random noise coming from the hallway.

“Yoongi?” he speaks up abruptly, not daring to disentangle himself from the shorter boy’s grip. “Can I ask you something?”

The question catches him off guard, but Yoongi nods anyway. “Yeah.”

“Can you talk to me about your brother?” he asks, his voice so low it’s almost as if he’s afraid of being heard. “If you want.”

It’s definitely not what he was expecting, but he can do that, so he nods and holds him tighter.

“His name is Taehyun,” he murmurs, stroking his hair with his fingers and brushing his lips against his forehead. Namjoon closes his eyes. “He’s six. He’s like a little rascal that won’t shut up sometimes, but I love him.”

Namjoon chuckles briefly, which gives Yoongi his cue to smile softly and continue. “He’s a huge nerd. Well, I’m a nerd too, but he’s the kind of know-it-all nerd. Think Dustin from Stranger Things.”

“He’s a radio nerd?” 

Yoongi smiles again, glad he’s talking again. He can feel the way his body is less tense now, his muscles definitely more relaxed under his touch. “Math nerd. Type of person to just name random equations out of boredom. I’m scared of how he’ll be when he’s older.”

“I wonder how you came out, then.”

It takes him a couple of seconds to get it, but when he does, he kicks him in the shin from the position their legs found themselves in, and Namjoon whimpers in pain. “Okay. Deserved it.”

“My talents have been relocated to something else.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees as he nods. “They have.”

Not knowing what to say, Yoongi just keeps touching his hair as he leaves a delicate kiss on his cheek, heavy silence growing between them. It comes as a surprise that it’s not uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” Namjoon looks down to avoid his eyes just as Yoongi looks at him, the question written all over his face. “About last week. That was immature of me. You can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi sighs quietly, surprised by his words. He’s not sure he ever remembers him apologizing for something. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Namjoon whispers, closing his eyes as he leans forward against his body. “I was an asshole. I’m trying to be less of an asshole. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate that,” Yoongi says, but doesn’t correct him. It was an asshole move, but the fact he’s at least acknowledging it means a lot. “Don’t worry.”

Namjoon raises his head slightly, as if he just thought of something, but before Yoongi can ask what it is, he’s leaning in and pressing their lips together in a short kiss. It takes Yoongi by surprise, and he almost interrupts it, but the surprise is quickly replaced with want, and he realizes he missed it. He missed his lips, the way he kisses when he’s relaxed, how his tongue has this habit of letting the other person to do all the work, the everlasting presence of everything that Namjoon puts in a single kiss.

“Sleep,” Yoongi whispers when they come apart, his fingertips caressing Namjoon’s cheek. “You’re exhausted. I’ll be here.”

Namjoon nods without putting up a fight. “Okay.”

The irony of how Namjoon had said those same exact words to him not even a month ago is not lost on him, but he pretends not to notice the parallels.

For once, all he can think about is Namjoon and his well-being, and it scares him. That he’s grown so attached to someone he wasn’t even supposed to like in the first place. That he can’t go a day without picturing his eyes in his mind. 

It’s not even that complicated. It’s terrifying to think about, but he just wants them to be okay.

Chapter Text

Yoongi had a lot of ideas regarding how to spend his afternoon. Go back to his room, maybe draw, drink some tea, or better yet — sleep. Certainly not being chased around by an overzealous five foot nine writer with the tendency to piss him off at any given time. Sadly, though, it’s not often that things go for him the way he wants them to, so he had to adjust.

“Can I watch you draw? Please?” Namjoon asks for the millionth time, joining his hands together in a mock prayer over the table. Yoongi keeps staring blankly at him. “I’m bored. I know we’re almost done, but I’m bored.”

“You seriously think I’m going to draw now? I’m going the fuck to sleep.”

“You’re so boring,” he whines, his bottom lip busy in a pout. Normally, Yoongi would find it adorable. Right now, though — he’s tired. “You’re literally always sleeping.”

“If you want to have company so badly, come sleep with me and shut up,” Yoongi concludes, hoping to make the sarcasm in his voice as clear as possible.

Namjoon, however, doesn’t pick up on it. “I can do that?”

“Let me think.” He looks at the ceiling, arms crossed on his chest and pretending to be considering it. “No.”

“But why?” He exhales a deep sigh and pouts again. “It’s not like it’d be the first time.”

“Third,” Yoongi points out, his eyes on him again. “Somehow, I feel like we already had this conversation.”

“That’s so cute, you’re counting,” Namjoon says sweetly. “Aww.”

“Fuck you,” he deadpans. “It’s easy to keep track when you literally run out of bed as soon as your dick is out every fucking time.”

“Woah, easy there.” Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that bothered you.”

“It doesn’t,” Yoongi mutters, lying through his teeth. It does, but he’s not trying to let him know. “Whatever.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Min Yoongi.”

“How am I a liar?”

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “I thought we were past that by now.”

“Past what?”

“Not being honest.”

“Maybe.” Yoongi bites his bottom lip, avoiding his eyes. He still doesn’t want him to know. “I’m not lying.”

“Right.” Namjoon rolls his eyes and stands up. When Yoongi finally glances at him again, he holds his hand out and waits for him to take it. “Well, I’m coming with you regardless.”

“When you decide something it’s no use trying to make you change your mind, is it?” Yoongi murmurs, but takes his hand and lets him drag him away from the table.

“Bingo,” Namjoon replies. As they walk, he doesn’t let go of Yoongi’s hand, and it’s ridiculous just how much a small gesture like that makes his heart jump in his throat.

“I’m not sleeping with you in my bed,” Yoongi repeats, a weak attempt to get him to go away, no matter how much he wants to have him close. “I don’t trust you.”

“What am I gonna do? Make you piss your pants?” Namjoon grins, letting go of his hand. Yoongi licks his lips out of instinct. “Calm down.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Yeah, I would do that,” Namjoon admits candidly, nodding towards the bed. “Not today, though. Get in.”

Yoongi stares at him. “Are you serious?”


“Oh my God,” Yoongi breathes out, more in disbelief than annoyance. “Why are you like this?”

“Ask my mom, she made me.” Namjoon smirks at him. “Come on.”

They stare at each other for another couple of seconds, until Yoongi gives up and takes off his shirt. He’s sure he will regret it, but he knows there’s no escaping him. It’s hard trying not to like someone when that someone teases you on the daily. He’s not even sure how he’s still managing to be around Namjoon without losing his mind.

“You do know it’s like six in the afternoon, right?” Yoongi asks rhetorically, lying on the bed under the covers with his arms crossed on his chest and his eyes on the ceiling. “I wanted to take a nap, not to wake up tomorrow.”

“Then let’s take a nap.” He pokes him in the stomach repeatedly until Yoongi groans and turns around. Namjoon flashes him a smile and crawls closer to him. “It’s not that serious.”

It’s a miracle he manages not to start laughing in his face at those words, because it is that serious. If he wasn’t sure whether Namjoon understood just how much his actions had consequences before, he’s definitely sure of it now. 

“Whatever,” he says eventually, trying to find a comfortable position on his pillow, even with Namjoon’s overbearing presence occupying the rest of it. “Goodnight.”

Namjoon nods, but doesn’t say anything. Maybe three seconds go by, though, before he brings a hand to Yoongi’s hair and fixes a strand of it behind his ear. Yoongi can feel what he’s doing, even if his eyes are shut. His touch is so delicate and careful he would almost describe it as loving.

He tries to keep his feelings in check, pretending to be falling asleep. 

“Yoongi?” Namjoon whispers at some point. He moves his hand to his jaw and brushes his thumb against his bottom lip, his open palm grazing his cheek. 

Yoongi hums under his breath in acknowledgement, not really feeling like opening his mouth to produce actual words. The light touch of his fingertips is slowly lulling him into actual sleep, and he doesn’t really want to disrupt the process. He’s feeling completely comfortable in his presence, for once, and it’s almost enough to keep him afloat in that pool of uncertainty that always comes along with the taller boy.

“I honestly just thought you didn’t want to stay the night,” Namjoon admits, and Yoongi doesn’t know how he got to the conclusion he actually wasn’t lying, but it freaks him out at least a little. “I’ve been sleeping alone for so long that I don’t know if it’s just the presence of someone else, or because it’s you.”

“What?” Yoongi can’t help but ask. When he opens his eyes, he finds himself staring back at his face. 

“I always get nightmares. It’s more noteworthy when I don’t have bad dreams than when I do.” Namjoon lets go of his face, but rests his forehead against Yoongi’s as his arm closes around his torso. “Sometimes they’re more vivid, sometimes they’re over as fast as they start, but they’re always there. It’s rare that I sleep more than four hours every night.”

Yoongi stays quiet, too entranced by the way his eyes are staring at him, until Namjoon speaks again. “Not when I’m with you.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper and desperate to know more.

“The first time we slept in the same bed,” Namjoon lowers his head and hides it in the crook of Yoongi’s neck, “I slept the whole night. The second time, too.”

“What does this mean?” Yoongi asks, confused, but hopeful. Hopeful that maybe they’re making progress. 

“I don’t know,” Namjoon exhales. He closes his eyes, and the flutter of his eyelashes tickling his skin makes Yoongi shiver. “I can’t even handle my own shit. I know it’s unfair of me to dump it all on you. I’m sorry.”

Yoongi lets out a sigh, but decides not to add salt to the wound. “Joon —”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon repeats, interrupting him. His voice is firmer, though it still sounds as if it’s taking everything from him to get it out. “I really am. I’m sorry about all that shit we did to each other. I’m sorry about yelling at you outside the library. I’m sorry about thinking I hated you for so long. I’m so out of touch with my emotions that I don’t even know where to begin about saying sorry.”

It’s so weird to hear that kind of words coming from Namjoon of all people, that he has to take a few seconds to process them. Namjoon sniffs quietly, still refusing to look at him or even take his face out of hiding.

“It’s okay,” Yoongi whispers back, eventually. 

The whole thing becomes even weirder when it dawns on him that he believes his own words. He takes a deep breath and shifts his head until he has enough space to look at him. Surprisingly, Namjoon doesn’t do anything to get out of his grip. His eyes show a vulnerability he’s only ever seen on him a couple of times, and he hates that. He hates that Namjoon only feels allowed to talk about his feelings when he’s at his lowest. 

“Well, it’s not completely okay,” he adds, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible. Namjoon seems to understand it. “This is just — it’s a lot.”

“I know it is.” Namjoon closes his eyes. On an instinct Yoongi realizes only appears when it comes to Namjoon, he brings him closer and wraps his arms around him. He’s warm. “I know it’s not okay. I shouldn’t be barging on you like you owe me anything.”

“I never said that,” Yoongi says, and he knows he’s losing balance, but he’s so tired — so exhausted of miscommunication. “When you feel like you have something to tell me, you need to do it, okay? Just talk to me. I’m here. I’m in too deep to disappear on you.”

Namjoon laughs quietly on his chest. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Yoongi repeats, and Namjoon nods. “Great.”

“It’s just that feel like I’m fucking this up,” he blurts out, looking at Yoongi with wide eyes. “I know it’s my fault if we’re here, but maybe we need to stop.”

“What?” Yoongi’s heartbeat immediately speeds up. When he told him to open up, he wasn’t expecting this of all things to be what Namjoon had to say. “Stop?”

“It’s not like I’m going to go off on you anymore,” Namjoon continues, but all Yoongi hears is I don’t want to do this anymore. “I’m trying to handle my anger issues, but I don’t think I can do that if I keep treating you like this.”

“Like what?”

Namjoon takes a deep breath. “Like you’re not important to me.”


“Shit, I’m sorry,” Namjoon exhales, disentangling himself from his arms. Yoongi lets him, too in shock to do anything else. “I need to go.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Wait.”

“Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Namjoon mumbles under his breath as he hurriedly leaves the bed and combs a hand through his hair in distress. “I gotta go.”

“No, wait.” Yoongi rushes to get the sheets off his body. “Where are you going?” 

“To get my shit together,” Namjoon replies quietly, as vague as he could ever get. Yoongi can’t help but notice he’s nervously playing with the hair tie on his wrist again, and that alone stops him from running after him. “I think I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t go —” he tries to say, but his sentence gets cut short when Namjoon closes the door behind him. “Fuck.”

He slams his head back on the mattress and shoves his pillow in his face, letting out a deep groan. If there is one thing he wasn’t expecting from this whole thing, it’s definitely this, and he doesn’t know what to do anymore.

It’s frustrating and confusing, and he’s tired of it — tired of liking someone who keeps escaping every time there’s an open door. Especially when he’s pretty sure the verb like isn’t even cutting it anymore.




Yoongi does not in fact see Namjoon the following day, or the day after, or the day after again, and that alone is enough to keep him on his toes. He ends up asking all of his friends, Hoseok included, but nobody seems to know anything. Hoseok just frowns and tells him he thought he was with him, Jimin is none the wiser — and Sooyoung just shrugs it off and blames it on Namjoon being Namjoon.

“I just don’t know where the fuck he is,” Yoongi repeats for the third time, earning a compassionate look from Chanyeol and a pat on his back. “He’s not even answering my calls.”

“I’m sure he’s okay,” Sooyoung replies in a monotone again, looking at him with her usual bored stare. “He used to do this disappearing shit all the time to write. We didn’t see him for like five days straight once, then he materialized out of thin air again like nothing happened and two weeks later he said his book was done.”

Yoongi closes his eyes for a second. “Was that during sophomore year?”

“It was,” Sooyoung confirms, cocking her head to the side as interest creeps up her face. “How do you know that?”

“Don’t worry,” Yoongi mumbles, avoiding her stare. Chanyeol watches the exchange with a frown on his face. “I think I know where he is.”

“Where is who?”

Yoongi’s head immediately shoots up, and before he’s even fully processed the figure he ends up staring at, he’s already out of his chair.

“You fucking asshole,” he exclaims on Namjoon’s chest, suffocating him into a hug that almost sends them both to the floor. “I was worried. I hate you so much.”

“I know,” Namjoon murmurs, clearly overwhelmed by the abrupt display of affection on Yoongi’s part. Yoongi just holds him tighter. “Sorry.”

“You’re so annoying,” Yoongi continues, showing no sign of wanting to let him go. “So fucking annoying. God.”

“You care, that’s cute.” 

Namjoon attempts a smile, but Yoongi can’t be bothered with the sarcasm right now, so he lets him go and shoots him a glare so mean it makes his smile falter. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” he hisses, punching him on the arm. Namjoon yelps and rubs the spot with his other hand. “You — you disappeared out of nowhere after that, and —”

“It’s okay,” Namjoon cuts him off before he can start screaming in the middle of campus. Yoongi decides to shut up. “Can we talk about it later?”

After a couple of seconds of them staring at each other, Yoongi finally nods. “Okay.”

Namjoon smiles at him, and his heartbeat speeds up for a second. “Good.”

“Wait,” Yoongi says as he turns around and belatedly remembers his friends are still there. Or at least, one is. “Where did Sooyoung go?”

Chanyeol shrugs, and Namjoon only now seems to take notice of his presence, though he doesn’t say anything about it. Yoongi internally sighs in relief.

“She said affection makes her uncomfortable, so she left,” he informs him, an amused smile on his face before he addresses Namjoon. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Namjoon replies, staring back at him. Yoongi takes turns between looking at them, nervousness pervading him. “Nice to see you again.”

“I guess,” Chanyeol says.

“Listen,” Namjoon blurts out, clearly addressing Chanyeol. On an automatic reflex, Yoongi puts a hand on his arm — to prevent what, he doesn’t know — but Namjoon doesn’t do anything to get away from his touch. “Since you’re here, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how I acted last time we saw each other. I was just mad about stuff. It wasn’t personal, I swear.”

Chanyeol nods and replies with something Yoongi doesn’t even hear, because he’s too busy staring at Namjoon in awe. They’re smiling at each other now, and Chanyeol just chuckled at something Namjoon said, and Yoongi is completely in disbelief about what he’s seeing.

“I gotta go,” Chanyeol tells him, waking him up from his daydream. “My roommate needs assistance before he burns the room down.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says on autopilot, when really all his brain wants to do is talk to Namjoon. “See you.”

Maybe it’s something that isn’t even that relevant, but Chanyeol just nods and doesn’t even hug him goodbye like he always does before he leaves. Yoongi swallows in anticipation.

“Why?” is all he says.

“Let’s go,” Namjoon mutters, grabbing his hand to lead him outside. Yoongi can’t help but notice his touch his more delicate than usual. “Not here.”

“Where did you go?” Yoongi finally asks, unsure of how to behave now that they’re alone. He shifts his body weight from one foot to the other, barely managing to hold his gaze. “I asked everyone.”

“I went home.” Namjoon takes a deep breath and looks away. He’s still keeping his distance. Yoongi just wants to take a step forward and have some kind of contact, but Namjoon looks terrified. “To my family.”

He finally takes a good look at him, and it suddenly hits him there’s something strikingly different about his appearance. “What the hell did you do to your head?”

“Oh.” Namjoon chuckles and ruffles his own now purple hair, a small smile on his face. Yoongi follows the gesture with his eyes, doing all he can not to focus on his dimples. “This? I don’t know. Midlife crisis. Fresh start?”

“You’re like twenty-one,” Yoongi points out, feeling dumb as he does it.

“Well, if I die at forty, that’s midlife,” Namjoon shoots back with a straight face, and Yoongi can’t help to crack a smile at his words. Namjoon smiles back, and for a second everything goes back to normal. 

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks out of nowhere, the desire to know he’s fine fighting against everything else in the back of his mind. 

“Yeah.” Namjoon nods. Yoongi is no expert, but it looks sincere. “My mom yelled at me for missing classes, but I’m okay. Better, anyway.”

“Okay, then.” Yoongi exhales a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “That’s good.”

“Sorry for disappearing on you.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, but he quickly hides his surprise. “I understand. It’s fine.”


There’s a long moment where silence controls the atmosphere. Yoongi draws closer to him, their eyes locked as Namjoon follows his gaze with his own. An unspoken question keeps tugging at both of their consciences, with Yoongi finally placing his hands on Namjoon’s hips and Namjoon ducking his head to the side as they lean in at the same time.

Yoongi’s breath hitches slightly the second their lips brush, his head completely lost in the way their eyes can’t get enough of each other.

“Do you still want to stop?” Yoongi at last voices the second most pressing doubt he had, looking away immediately as if he’s scared of what the taller boy could say.

Namjoon’s mouth parts. There’s silence again, until the answer does nothing to contribute to clearing Yoongi’s head.

“When it comes to you, I never know anything.”

Yoongi closes his eyes, trying to think of something to say to that, but Namjoon cups his face with his hands and brings their lips together. It’s cliche, really, how every time this happens Yoongi feels his body catch fire. 

He can see Namjoon is making an effort, but he’s only human — and humans are selfish. He just wants some closure. He really does. He keeps waiting on him to achieve that, and he’s tired of waiting. Tired of this back and forth they keep up, that neither of them know how to stop.

Namjoon moans in the kiss, and Yoongi decides he’ll be okay with it, as long as he gets to have Namjoon like this every time he can.

He wishes he had the will to stop, but the truth is he’d rather keep getting hurt than not having Namjoon at all — and it’s his biggest weakness.




“I’m so bored,” Yoongi laments, staring at the table with a blank look on his face. “I miss the times where I was always chasing assignments.”

Taehyung snorts. “That’s something I never thought I would hear coming out of your mouth.”

“Well, here it is,” Yoongi shoots back, crossing his arms on his chest. “Being a responsible student is boring as hell.”

Namjoon laughs, glancing at him. “Tell me about it.”

“You’re not a responsible student,” Yoongi glares at him, “you just learn everything so quickly you don’t even have to open a book outside of class.”

“Cry me a fucking river,” Namjoon says flatly, though his eyes betray his amusement.

“Get a room,” Sooyoung voices, her tone just as flat as she says it without even looking up from her textbook. “I thought I was clear when I said I secured this study room for studying. Fucking annoying.”

“Just wait until Hoseok comes back.” Jimin laughs. “He only studies forty eight hours before an exam, I can guarantee he’s behind on everything. He’ll be the perfect company.”

“Wow, what an upgrade.” Sooyoung frowns. “Say goodbye to the annoying couple, give a warm welcome to the annoying kangaroo enthusiast.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to defend himself and remind her they’re not a couple, but he gets interrupted before he’s even started.

“Who mentioned a kangaroo?”

“There he is,” Jimin says. 

“I’m glad you’re happy to see me, baby,” Hoseok replies, and he couldn’t have made the sarcasm clearer even if he tried. Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him. The energy between them feels slightly off, and if he wasn’t too busy trying to work through his Namjoon related feelings, maybe he’d try to find out why. “I know you missed me.”

Jimin just shrugs it off and doesn’t reply, but Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind. Before any of them can point out the weird dynamic they’re keeping up, Hoseok sits down right in front of his distracted roommate and stares at him.


He looks up with a frown, the confused expression on his face clearly informing everyone he didn’t even notice the whole exchange. “Huh?”

“I have a thing for you,” he says out of the blue, taking out something from a plastic bag Yoongi notices he’d left on the floor next to his chair. “Here you go.”

Namjoon takes it and his eyes widen instantly.

“Oh, fuck,” he says eyeing it. “I’ve wanted to buy this one forever. How did you find it?”

“I don’t know, it was there hidden behind the new releases.”

“You collect vinyl records?” Yoongi asks him, visibly shocked. “I’ve never noticed any in your room.”

“I honestly just started.” He keeps looking at the album in disbelief. “I only have like three, they’re in my closet because I don’t know where to put them.”

“Really?” Yoongi keeps alternating between looking at him and the vinyl he’s holding. “Which ones?”

“I’ll show you later.”

He stands up, leaving the album on the table, and runs into Hoseok’s arms. Hoseok hugs him back in shock.

“I love you so much,” he squeals, attracting looks even from Sooyoung. “I’ve been looking for that one for so long.”

“Uh.” Hoseok pets his head, clearly embarrassed. “This is weird coming from you. You’re welcome.”

Namjoon lets him go and sits back down, leaving everyone distraught. Yoongi keeps looking as if he’s seen a ghost. “How much was it?”

“Oh no, none of that. It’s a gift.”

“But my birthday is in September,” he points out.

“And? You’re my friend.”


Hoseok pauses, as if something just dawned on him, and he starts looking through his bag.

“Shit, I forgot it in my room. Wait here.”

“Wait,” Namjoon says, standing up. “I’ll come with, so I can show him my collection.”

Yoongi looks confused, but follows them anyway as he waves the others goodbye. They all keep looking at them weirded out and, honestly — Yoongi doesn’t blame them.

“What is it?” he asks Hoseok, eventually, as they head for the dorms. “If it’s another koala mug, I’ll have you know one was enough.”

Hoseok starts laughing. “No, it’s not a mug.”

Namjoon pushes the unlocked door open like he always does, and Hoseok immediately runs to his closet. They both look at him confusedly.

“Why did I hide it so well?” he grunts, then turns around with a vinyl copy of the No Man’s Sky soundtrack in his hands. “Happy birthday.”

“What?” Yoongi holds back a laugh and looks at his stretched out arm, but takes the record anyway to stare at it. “I’ve wanted this for ages. Holy shit.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “It’s your birthday?“

Yoongi just nods and goes to hug Hoseok with the record still hanging from his hand. “Thank you. I didn’t even realize you listen to me when I talk about this stuff.”

“You’re welcome.” Hoseok chuckles in amusement. “Of course I listen to you.”

They pull back, and Yoongi grins at him. “Thank you so much. This thing is a double album, shit, you didn’t have to.”

“No, really.” Namjoon still doesn’t look satisfied. “Why didn’t I know it’s your birthday?”

“Because this idiot didn’t tell anyone,” Hoseok offers. “I had to find out myself.”

“What did you do?”

“I don’t reveal my secrets.”

“Happy birthday, then,” Namjoon mumbles, looking at Yoongi. “I feel stupid now.”

“It’s fine.”

Hoseok glances at them and then raises his hands. “Okay, I feel like I’m third wheeling now. I’ll go back to the others.”

“You aren’t —”

Before Yoongi can finish the sentence, Hoseok is already out, so he sighs. “Well.”

“I feel bad for not getting you anything,” Namjoon says, walking up to him. He brings a hand to his face and Yoongi bites his lip, finding Namjoon’s eyes busy in a piercing stare.

“Would you have done it if you had known?”

“That’s a lot of tenses for a single sentence,” he says, but neither of them laughs. “I — I don’t know. Maybe?”

The air is suddenly tense, and it’s throwing him off. Yoongi doesn’t even know where they stand anymore. Lately, it’s been as if they’ve fallen into a sort of limbo where they linger on an unstable finish line between friends and awkward work partners.

Yoongi shrugs. “It’s just a day like every other.”

“That’s sad,” Namjoon says. “My dad was born on Halloween.”

“Oh, that’s why you are the way you are.” Yoongi smirks despite himself. “The genes traveled.”

“Funny. It doesn’t even make sense.”

“Yeah, I know. I couldn’t find another joke.”

Namjoon finally cracks a smile. They look at each other for a moment, his hand still on him, until Namjoon places a brief kiss on his lips. When he pulls back, Yoongi’s heart jumps in his chest.

“I’ll show you,” Namjoon says abruptly. The reason why they are there in the first place slowly comes back to him, so he nods and watches him as he gets them out. He brings a hand to his lips, brushing them with his fingertips, and then lets his arm fall along his hip again.

“I have To Pimp a Butterfly,” Namjoon tells him, spreading the records on his bed. “Now I know it’s entry-level stuff, but I just started.”

“What even inspired you? The albums you stole from my room?”

Namjoon chuckles. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”


“Yeah, I probably deserve it.” Namjoon shrugs. “But in a way, yes. You’re so passionate about this stuff, I wanted to try. Are you even a music fan if you don’t own physicals?”

“Nah,” Yoongi says, and Namjoon laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, and all he wants is to hear it more, so he keeps asking questions and hopes to get some jokes out of them.




Yoongi is on his bed, doing absolutely nothing other than mindlessly scrolling on Instagram. He’s never cared much for his birthday, and truthfully he still doesn’t, but he’s bored. So fucking bored.

He likes a couple of posts, one of the two being a selfie from Jungkook. Taehyung is photobombing in the background. The only thing he can think of is that he wishes that were him.

He’s still looking through the posts of the endless number of bands he follows when he gets a text out of nowhere.

(from: chanyeol!) hey. didn’t see you today, so… happy birthday :))

He raises an eyebrow at it, wondering how he knew that, though he soon remembers Chanyeol found out from his mom when they were dating in high school. He feels a weird twist in his chest at the fact he remembered, even after all this time.

(to: chanyeol!) i cant believe you remembered that haha thanks :))

The response comes almost immediately.

(from: chanyeol!) no problem <3

(from: chanyeol!) are you doing anything today? i know you hate fun and never tell anyone your birthday

Yoongi laughs briefly at the phone screen.

(to: chanyeol!) funny. i’m on my bed scrolling through meme pages on instagram so no

(from: chanyeol!) well i’m free so just say the word if you want company or something

“What are you smiling at?” Seokjin asks him from his own bed, making him jump.

“God, you’re creepy,” he mutters. “Nothing. Memes.”

Their conversation gets cut off when the door opens without anyone knocking, and Namjoon barges in.

“Where did your ’I always lock the door’ bullshit go?” he says rhetorically to Yoongi, sitting down on his bed with so much grace the mattress bounces under his weight.

“He was the last one to get in and out,” he says in an accusatory voice, nodding towards Seokjin. “My record is still undefeated.”

“Okay, okay, whatever. Are you busy?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and points at himself. “Does it look like I’m busy?”

“Just say you aren’t next time.” Namjoon puts his hands on his thighs and stares at him with a blank look. “You’re really spending your birthday in bed.”

“I am, and what about it?”

“Wait,” Seokjin chimes in, making him roll his eyes. “It’s your birthday?”

Yoongi sighs heavily and throws his head back on the pillow. “Yeah.”

“Oh, nice. You’re one year closer to death.”

“See, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Okay, back on track,” Namjoon interrupts them, though he looks like he wants to laugh so badly.

“You were never on track.”

“Shut the fuck up before I throw that pillow in your face,” Namjoon says in a monotone. Seokjin bursts out laughing. “I came here with an offer.”

“Why should I listen to you?”

He won’t admit it, but he’s having fun provoking him. It’s when moments of their old insults and petty hatred and bickering shine through that he feels the most comfortable with him.

“Because you’re making me sad with your moping and stuff. Let’s go out.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re so fucking irritating,” he says, and Yoongi smiles widely at him. “I said, let’s go out. Once in a lifetime offer.”

Yoongi would let himself believe it’s a date, but he knows better than that.

“Yeah, I’m dying to go out with you.”

“Why do you want to spend your birthday doing nothing?”

“Because it’s just a day, damn. Who cares?”

“I do,” he concludes, crossing his arms on his chest and glaring at him. “And you should too.”

“God, hyung, just go,” Seokjin finally voices from the other side of the room. “I’m trying to avoid failing Japanese. Do it for me so he stops talking.”

“Since when do you take Japanese classes?”

“Since I applied to scholarships to do my senior year in Japan,” he says. “You’re all going to graduate without me anyway.”

Yoongi looks at him, an interested look on his face. “That’s new.”

“You’re fucking annoying, Seokjin,” Namjoon says. “Now I know why you’re roommates with him.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Wanna insult me some more?”

“Yes, if you don’t get your ass out of that bed.”

“What are you, my mom?” Yoongi snorts but gets up anyway, the text he was about to reply to forgotten. “Where do you even wanna go?”

“Okay, so there’s an amusement park they built temporarily for Valentine’s Day. People kept going, though, so it’s still there. Probably will be for a while.”

“That’s cute,” Yoongi says with a smirk. “For how long did you think about this?”

“Shut up, for once in your life,” Namjoon shoots back, glaring at him. “You try to do a nice thing and get clowned on.”

“Well, it’s coming from you, so I have my reasons to doubt it’s a nice thing.”

“Fuck you.” Namjoon glares at him. “Listen, you wanna go or not?“

Yoongi sighs. “Yeah, okay. Let me get dressed.”




“I don’t know how to end the story,” Namjoon keeps talking as they walk through the park. Yoongi is eating popcorn out of a bucket. “Like, should I make him become the president or what? We’re almost done, and I still have no idea.”

“I think you should, but it’s your plot,” Yoongi replies after he swallows a handful of popcorn. “I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s our comic.” He glances at him. “You have input.”

Yoongi shrugs and keeps looking in front of him, his eyes distractedly observing two little girls harassing their family to get on a rollercoaster.

“I’ve come to the conclusion I’m not good at that. I love drawing and stuff, but my ideas are stupid most of the times. I think I’ll stick to the art side of things.”

Namjoon scowls. “That’s not true. You had some good ideas.”

“Wow,” he says with a laugh, moving the popcorn around. “I must look very sad from an outsider perspective to get a compliment out of you.”

“I’m serious, Yoongi.”

“Sure you are.”

“I don’t get why you underestimate yourself.”

Yoongi eats the last of his popcorn and throws the bucket in the first trash can they pass by. “I know my limits.”


“There’s an extremely tiny chance I would ever manage to actually publish my stuff when I can’t bring stories to life. I’ll find a job working for others and be done with it.”

“You want to give up like that?”

“I do. Can we talk about something else?”

Namjoon looks like he wants to keep arguing about it, but Yoongi is already over it. “This isn’t over.”

“It really is,” Yoongi says simply as he spots the sight of a ferris wheel. “Oh, shit. We gotta get on that.”

Namjoon follows his eyes up to the giant construction. “You wanna go?”

“Yep.” Yoongi nods. “The sun is going down, do you have any idea of how pretty the sky would be from up there? I should have brought my sketchbook.”

“You’re a nerd.”

“You literally started typing on your phone two hours ago because you saw something that inspired you, but fine.”


Yoongi raises an eyebrow at his words as they approach the ticket booth. “Did you just tell me I’m right?”

“When it’s fair, it’s fair.”

Namjoon gets inside one of the vehicles on the wheel and drags Yoongi with him by his hand.

“Since when do you care about fair?” he says, sitting down on the seat and waiting for it to start again. He knows it’s a petty thing to say, but the whole afternoon made him feel weird about how they interact with each other.

“Well,” Namjoon shrugs, “people change.”

Yoongi licks his lips and stares outside of the window, looking at the gradually prettier scenery that’s unveiling in front of him. At the speed they’re going, it’s probably going to take a good fifteen minutes to get back on the ground, but he’s in no rush.

Namjoon’s words linger in the back of his mind. He’s painfully aware of his presence next to him, though they’re not sitting close enough to touch.


“Yeah?” he says, turning around.

Namjoon is staring at him with an odd spark in his eyes. His body language is mostly relaxed, but there’s something in his posture that tips him off. Namjoon scoots closer to him and rests his head on Yoongi’s shoulder as he takes his eyes away from his face and directs them towards the sky outside.

The sun is leaving behind a handful of orange streaks, fading away into the sky. The mix of colors creates a calm atmosphere that seems to affect both of them at the same time, though Yoongi is finding it hard not to let it go to his head.

Namjoon’s hand closes around his, making him stare at them. He’s about to say something, what exactly he doesn’t even know, when Namjoon looks up at him and takes his head off his shoulder.

Yoongi looks at him curiously. He’s not sure of what’s happening, but then Namjoon brings his other hand to the side of his face and pulls him closer, their eyes locking.

He almost melts under his touch, sadly aware of his own weaknesses. He’s tried to convince himself of how unlikely it is for them to become what he wants them to be, but all it takes is one moment like this, and all his work goes tumbling down the stairs.

Namjoon brushes his fingertips against his jawline and softly touches his lips with his own, before leaving a proper kiss. Yoongi closes his eyes automatically, the familiarity of it betraying him, and Namjoon kisses him again.

He ends up with the taller boy sitting on his legs somehow, holding him by his hips to keep him upright when he cups his face with his hands and lets their lips chase each other and their tongues touch multiple times.

Yoongi leans in to give him better access, even though his brain keeps screaming at him to think about it.

Namjoon sighs softly on his lips when he marginally pulls back for air, but he doesn’t let go of his face.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, his breath tickling his skin.

Yoongi swallows and closes his eyes. “Thanks.”

They spend the last five minutes of the ride in silence in the same position, eyes closed, their foreheads touching and Namjoon’s fingers steadily stroking his neck and jawline as their breaths combine. Yoongi stops thinking for all of it, his mind blank apart from the vivid image of Namjoon’s lively eyes.

When the ride ends and they’re back on solid ground, the atmosphere revolts to awkward like a switch being flipped. Yoongi is barely surprised.

“You wanna go back to the dorms?” Namjoon says, their bodies at a safe distance as they walk around. “I know you don’t like staying out late.”

Yoongi nods, so they head back to the bus station.

He’s more confused than he’s ever been about all of this, them — all he wants is an answer. He looks down at his phone, suddenly aware of the text he’s been ignoring all afternoon. He knows he shouldn’t, knows that it would be unfair to all parties involved, but he’s not sure he’s even thinking straight.

He just wants to act irrationally, for once. For his own sake.

(to: chanyeol!) something came up, sorry :/ but i would love to see you another day

(from: chanyeol!) you free tomorrow?

Namjoon glances at him with a deep stare as he types, but he pretends not to notice.




“Man, stop.”

Yoongi cackles and throws another scrunched up piece of paper at him.

“Shut up, Chanyeol. I’m having fun.”

“I can see that,” he replies, unimpressed, “but I was trying to study.”


“Well, since you’re here,” he says, closing the textbook, “might as well give up.”

“Oh, I didn’t want to distract you,” Yoongi pretends to apologize, a smirk plastered across his lips. “Sorry.”

“Sure you didn’t want to,” he laughs, leaving it next to him. “You want to make me fail all my tests.”

“You’re mean.” Yoongi pouts. “Go to the other bed.”

“You want Seokjin to beat me to death when he comes back? Not a chance.”

Yoongi takes the textbook and places it on the floor next to the bed, out of Chanyeol’s reach.

“Okay, but stop ignoring me,” he says, tugging at his shirt in an attempt to make him turn around. “I’m sad over here.”

“If you don’t shut up —” he says, cutting himself off to start tickling him all over his hips and waist. 

“Mercy,” he screams, arching his back to get away from him. “Animal.”

“Who did you call an animal?” Chanyeol scoffs. “The audacity.”


He grins and starts tickling him again. Yoongi wheezes out a laugh, trying to make him stop by fighting him off, but all he manages to do is make him lose his balance and almost land all over him, their faces way too close.

They smile at each other for a couple of seconds, and despite the way they’re standing there’s no awkwardness, until Chanyeol leaves a kiss on his forehead and gets off him. 

“Idiot. Let me study.”

“You should find something else to do with your tall as fuck body. Go play basketball.”

Chanyeol laughs as he picks up the textbook from the floor. “And I’m mean?”

“That wasn’t even remotely close to an insult.”

He looks at the book in his hands for a couple of seconds, until he seems to decide Yoongi’s room is not going to work.

“Whatever, I’m done studying for the day. This room is suffocating me, let’s go so you can annoy me outside.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he laments, but gets up from the bed anyway. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Only when I have an exam approaching.” Chanyeol sticks his tongue out at him. “And you do.”

“Why do you want me with you then?” Yoongi says, fake offended, walking next to him in the quiet hallway. “I can go back to my bed.”

“Your presence is oddly satisfying.”

“What am I, an Instagram post?”

“Nah.” He smirks at him as they end up in the park outside. “I like having you next to me. Instagram is toxic.”

Yoongi smiles at that, unable to keep the frown on his face going for too long. “You’re corny.”

“Embrace it, son.”

The rest of the campus is weirdly quiet, too, as only a small number of people is walking through the green area. Chanyeol sits down on a bench, and Yoongi follows suit, feeling somewhat content until he realizes which bench they’re sitting on. A sudden flashback of Namjoon yelling at him about them working together hits him so vividly he doesn’t even catch what Chanyeol is telling him.


Yoongi blinks a couple of times, trying his hardest not to let it get to him. Even when he’s not with him, Namjoon ends up crossing his mind. He hates himself for it. 

“Yeah, sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “I was just thinking about something.”

“You okay?” Chanyeol says gently, touching his shoulder with a delicate brush of his fingers. Yoongi nods with way too much force, as if he’s trying to convince himself of it more than anything else. “You look distracted.”

“No, yeah, I’m fine.” Yoongi’s eyes meet Chanyeol’s, and for a moment an idea he shouldn’t even be thinking about passes him by.

The taller boy is still looking at him, a warm expression on his face, and they’re close. So close it’d be so smooth to just lean in. It would be so easy with him, Yoongi finds himself thinking — so stress free and so right.

And yet. 

He looks away instantly, the sudden realization making him lose his grip on reality. Chanyeol lets out a small sigh and puts an arm around his shoulder.

“I think we need to talk.”

“Huh?” Yoongi instantly wakes up and looks at him with wide eyes. “About what?”

Another sigh falls from Chanyeol’s lips before he speaks. 

“We’re better off as friends, you know?”

“I —” Yoongi’s eyes widen and his breath gets stuck in his throat. The most shocking thing is that he didn’t even know Chanyeol noticed, so the only thing that gets out is, “Why?”

“I know it always goes ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ but,” he starts, bringing a hand to his face to touch his cheek delicately. “Don’t take it the wrong way. It’s the other way around with us.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asks, dreading the answer. “What did I do?”

“You love someone else,” he just says. Yoongi’s heartbeat starts reflecting his discomfort. “I’m not mad at you for it. Humans can’t control emotions.”

“I don’t —”

“You need to stop lying to yourself, you know.” Chanyeol slowly strokes his cheekbones with his thumb. “It’s okay to admit it.”

Yoongi stays quiet, unable to think of anything to say.

“I think we’ve always been better off as friends, even though I definitely liked you way more than that. I still do, to some degree.”

He moves his face closer to Yoongi’s until their foreheads are almost touching. 

“Remember how it was so easy for us to break up when you left for college? It was way too amicable. We have chemistry. You’re important to me, but I’ve accepted you can’t give me more than that.”

Yoongi looks like he wants to argue for a couple of seconds, but the look in his eyes softens soon. On a whim, he joins their lips. Chanyeol kisses back, but when they separate he’s smiling.

“Felt anything?” he asks, though Yoongi knows he knows the answer. He shakes his head in response.

“See?” Chanyeol confirms quietly. 


“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” He pulls back and lowers his hand. “Kim Namjoon, though? Really?”

Yoongi lets out a choked laugh and almost suffocates. “I’ve never said anything about him.”

“I’ve seen how you look at him, I’m not stupid,” he tells him with a smirk. “You spent a lot of time together for that comic. That time in the library he looked like he wanted to rip my head off. I took a guess.”

Yoongi licks his lips out of nervousness. “Yeah, okay. It’s him.”

“What stops you two from being together?”

“Good question,” Yoongi says, a hint of a smile appearing on his features even though he wants to do everything but laugh about it. “I wish I knew.”

“He’s been looking at me like I’m the enemy ever since we started hanging out again. I think you know why.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t get him. Every time we make any kind of progress, he panics.”

“Not everyone reacts to emotions the same way,” Chanyeol points out. “I don’t believe for a second he doesn’t care.”

“Why do you have to find a philosophical explanation for everything?”

Chanyeol starts laughing. “If it makes you feel better, I’m only doing philosophy to get into law school.”

“You’ll win your cases by making the jury fall asleep.”

“Yep.” He just grins at Yoongi and rests his head on his shoulder. “Oh, and I lied to you.”


“I know it’s Namjoon because I talked to Sooyoung.”

“God,” Yoongi whines, hiding his face with his hands. “Why does everyone know my business?”

“I asked her because I had my suspicions.” He shrugs. “Your friends are nice people, you know? They care about you. They understand more than they let on. You should trust them more.”

Yoongi swallows hard, contemplating his words. “Maybe.”

“Now come here, you little midget,” Chanyeol jokes, wrapping his arms around him in a friendly hug. “Let me give you some affection.”

“You asshole.” Yoongi laughs, but lets himself be embraced as he rests his head on Chanyeol’s chest. “Stop bullying me.”

“Next time you see him, tell him,” he whispers in his ear as he strokes his hair. “You owe it to yourself.”

Yoongi nods weakly, trying to get his thoughts together. “Maybe I will.”

He finally feels somewhat at peace, in Chanyeol’s arms, because even despite everything, he missed him. As a friend, more than anything else.

He just wishes he didn’t have a weird feeling of discomfort in his chest, like something’s going to go wrong. Mostly, he feels observed, even though they are basically alone.

He blinks a couple of times, trying to make the feeling go away, and tries to focus on Chanyeol’s calming presence.

Chapter Text

Yoongi’s trying to fix his bad habits. He really is. He doesn’t procrastinate all the time anymore. He finally stopped naming his Photoshop projects with names like ‘failure897_redraw_final_reallyfinal.psd.’ He uses stuff he can actually remember now. He triple checks to see if he flushed the toilet before he leaves the bathroom. He keeps his sketches properly catalogued.

Ask him to be somewhere on time, though — still not going to happen. He’s never been early for class in his life, and there are witnesses to prove it, as in every single student who has ever walked the hallways in the morning. He tried everything, from asking people to give him wrong schedules with every timetable set half an hour early, to setting his alarm at five in the morning. Somehow, he still manages to get out of his room at ten past eight.

He’s speeding through campus again, an assignment he can’t absolutely afford not to hand in almost surgically attached to his hand, and the process is so ingrained in his routine that he doesn’t even notice the parallels.


Startled by that sudden voice appearing in his ears, Yoongi does a double take and immediately stops walking, the folder hanging by his fingers. When he sees he was almost running straight into someone, he sighs in relief — until it dawns on him that the someone currently staring at him with a scowl is Namjoon.

“Oh, hey,” he greets him, exploiting the fact he’s not running the marathon anymore to regain his breath. “I’m late.”

“I can see that,” Namjoon replies flatly, staring him down with a look in his eyes that’s making Yoongi uncomfortable. “Don’t let me be the reason why your situation gets worse.”

“Right,” Yoongi mutters. 

There’s an awkward moment where they’re both staring at each other in silence, and Yoongi doesn’t get it, whatever it is that seems to be floating in the air between them and keeping them so distant but so close at the same time. Namjoon’s still looking as if he’s thinking hard about something, until Yoongi opens his mouth to talk again and he snaps out of it, walking away without saying anything.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow to himself but decides to keep it moving, the fact he’s still late hitting him again. It feels reductive to blame the whole episode of Namjoon being Namjoon, and also slightly offensive to both parties involved, but he ends up shrugging it off as he finally gets to class. 

He manages to hand in his assignment, though with yet another joke at his expenses made by his professor — deserved, admittedly — and when he finally slumps down at a random seat, he’s back to thinking about Namjoon. Not that him thinking about his work partner is anything out of the ordinary, really, but he’s barely paying attention to the lecture.

There’s a one hundred percent chance that he’s going to regret it, when he’ll have to study all of it from scratch, but as it stands it seems so insignificant.

He doesn’t remember having a fight with him. Why was he looking at him like that? Last time they saw each other, it was in the hallways again, when they came back from the park, and Namjoon had just smiled at him and gone on his way to his room.

He takes out his phone and goes to his text messages, his thumb hovering on his running conversation with Namjoon. The last text is from three in the morning, and it was just Namjoon telling him he’d finished writing the story for the comic with a Google docs link.

Was it possible that he’d changed his mind and actually decided he didn’t want anything to do with Yoongi anymore now that his part was done? He keeps thinking of possible scenarios, still ignoring whatever the professor is going on about, but none of them seem even remotely plausible.

One glance at the text again, and now he’s over-analyzing the way he’d worded it, too. He’s not sure if it’s his paranoia warping reality, or Namjoon really did type it as if he was just doing a chore that would then get him free of a boring burden. It wasn’t weird that he’d sent that link so late at night, either, but three in the morning was a new record even for Namjoon.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head to himself. He probably was just tired — he knows he was awake so late, after all. He was just grumpy. Determined to put his overthinking to rest, Yoongi finally exhales and takes it to the keyboard once and for all. He really needs to change his contact name. He doesn’t even remember why he’d set it as ‘flamingo’ in the first place.

(to: namjoon) your room today? i wanted to do a couple more panels with your script

He wasn’t expecting a reply, honestly, and let alone such a swift one, so when his phone vibrates again in his hand, not once, but twice, he almost drops it on the floor.

(from: namjoon) busy

(from: namjoon) sorry

If that three in the morning text could have been interpreted as something more than dry, these definitely have no excuses. Yoongi frowns at the screen.

(to: namjoon) let me know when you’re free?

Namjoon opens the text, so he stares at it for a couple of seconds, waiting for the three dots to appear next to it, but there’s silence on the other end. Yoongi’s pretty sure he left him on read, so he groans quietly and locks the screen before someone can catch him texting in class.

The chaos in his brain hasn’t calmed down at all by the time the lecture is over and he ends up in the hallway again, with way too much free time before his next one. Of course, Namjoon still hasn’t answered.

“Hey, baby,” a voice exclaims from behind him, startling him, but when he turns around he’s thankful to see it’s just Jungkook. “You look like shit.”

“Is that the only thing you people know how to tell me?” Yoongi mutters, his posture slightly slumping when Jungkook puts an arm around his shoulder and hugs him from the side. “I know I do.”

“I meant you look tired, but okay, Tumblr girl,” Jungkook says with his usual absence of tact, though the grip he’s keeping on his body seems to suggest it’s his way of being supportive. “What’s up?”

That’s a good question, he thinks, but doesn’t say it.

“Like you said, I’m tired,” he tells him eventually. It’s not even a lie — it’s just that he’s tired mentally and not physically. He just didn’t think it would be reflected so clearly on his face. “I wanted to go to the library, but I might go back to my room and sleep until next class.”

“Yoongi, baby, you’re so lifeless.” Jungkook finally lets him go, only to glance at something in the distance. “Taehyung’s back. You should come with us.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, because if it’s what he thinks it is, it would be a hard pass. “Where?”

“Actually, you’re in luck, because Tae’s behind on like three papers and he wanted me to keep him company at the library.” Jungkook smirks at him. “No weird stuff. Sleeping in the morning makes you even grumpier, just follow us and stay awake.”

“Thank you, life coach,” Yoongi murmurs sarcastically. “What would I do without you?”

Jungkook doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm, and if he did, he ignores it. “You’d be ruined.”

“Did you sleep last night?” is the first thing Taehyung says the second he arrives. 

“Oh my God, it’s just my fucking face,” Yoongi snaps, rolling his eyes so viciously his eyeballs almost fly back into his body. “Goddammit.”

“Don’t mind him,” Jungkook says, as chill as ever. Taehyung just shoots him a worried glance, and Yoongi pretends not to notice.

The library is pretty much empty, which Yoongi is grateful for. He’s not in the mood to see people, his friends being the obvious exception, so when he sits down with them and nobody approaches him, he feels at peace.

“It’s been awhile since the last time we’ve been in the same place at once without anyone else, hasn’t it?” Jungkook wonders out loud, drumming his fingers on the flat surface of the table. Normally, Yoongi would find it irritating, but right now even that would require effort he doesn’t care to find in himself. “Like, us three.”

“Yep,” Taehyung confirms, frowning at his phone. “Yoongi’s a busy man.”

“I’m not —” he begins to say, but halfway through the sentence he realizes he really doesn’t have an excuse. “Okay, yeah. I haven’t been the most present of friends lately.”

“I don’t even blame you,” Jungkook tells him with a shrug. “Dealing with Namjoon sounds exhausting even for my standards.”

“He’s not exhausting,” Yoongi blurts out before he can stop himself. “I mean, he’s —”

“You don’t need to find excuses,” Taehyung interrupts him, barely holding back a chuckle. “It’s like super obvious that you’re in love with him.”

“Oh, God,” Yoongi exhales, ending up with his arms and his face abandoned on the table in a defeated gesture. It sounds ridiculous to even try and deny it anymore. “It’s embarrassing that everyone knows it, but he still doesn’t realize it.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Why don’t you just tell him and be done with it?”

“Because I’m me and he’s him and everything is so fucking complicated with us,” Yoongi says sardonically, so mentally exhausted he’s swerving into complete honesty out of nowhere. “And I don’t know how to handle him.”

“It’s just my uneducated opinion, but it seems to me that you’re handling him just fine,” Taehyung offers, setting his phone aside to focus completely on him. Yoongi notices, and he’s weirdly grateful for it. “I mean, I’m definitely not the one who spends the biggest amount of time with him, but there’s something different about him.”

Yoongi swallows, confused by this new information. “Like what?”

“Well, he stopped being an asshole, for one.” Taehyung glares at him, and Jungkook shrugs before speaking again. “What? It’s true. He used to be so rude to people he didn’t like. He looks like he’s making an effort.”

“He has a different look in his eyes,” Taehyung adds. “He just seems — less on edge, if that makes sense? He used to look so nervous all the time. I think he’s way more relaxed, now.”

“Right.” Jungkook nods at his boyfriend’s words. “I don’t know what you’re doing to him, but it’s working.”

Yoongi scoffs, though Jungkook’s words are making him rethink a lot of things. “My dick is magical.”

Jungkook almost chokes on his own breath as he tries not to burst into laughter in the complete silence of the library, until Taehyung awkwardly pats him on the back to get his lungs to work again. 

“It’s his dick that must be magical. It made you funny.”

“Fuck you, Tae,” Yoongi shoots back, making Jungkook snort out a laugh again.

By the time they both calm down, the topic is dropped, and Yoongi finds himself lost in his thoughts while Taehyung tries to catch up on all the work he has to do and Jungkook does absolutely nothing to be useful.

It’s almost insulting that they noticed before he did but, now that he thinks about it, Namjoon does look different. Or, at least, he did while they were at the park. The way they’d kissed on the ferris wheel was still stuck in his mind, the scene replaying over and over. Yoongi had mostly stayed with his eyes closed, but he remembers that look — it made him feel like everything he kept hidden had been stolen out of his chest for Namjoon to dissect. Just thinking about it sends a shiver down his spine.

If there’s one thing he knows, at this point, is that he needs to tell him, or he’s going to drive himself to insanity.




Namjoon doesn’t let him know when he’s free for at least four days, and almost everything Yoongi thought he knew is damn near close to being turned upside down. It’s almost pathetic, at this point, because not only did he not wait for him to answer before texting him again — he did it twice. And Namjoon left him on read both times.

“Maybe he was really busy,” Seokjin tells him when he complains about it for the third time in the span of twenty minutes. “I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

“Is he that busy that he can’t just send me one fucking text back? Not even one?” Yoongi groans out of frustration and hides his face in the pillow. “I’m going crazy.”

Seokjin hums under his breath. “Why don’t you go to his room?” 

“Why don’t I go to his room?” Yoongi repeats, his voice closer to a hiss rather than a normal sentence. His head shoots up from the bed to send Seokjin an angry glare. “Because that’s even more pathetic than double texting and being left on read. I’m so fucking mad at him that if I went to his room I’d probably smash his head against the desk.”

“Damn, your sex life must be one hell of a ride.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he throws his pillow straight into his roommate’s face, outraged. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“Sorry,” Seokjin yells, holding his hands up as he appears from behind the pillow, “sorry.”

“You’d better be,” Yoongi snaps. “Give me my pillow back.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told. “Really, though, he can’t leave you on read in real life.”

“That’s some Black Mirror shit,” Yoongi mutters, and Seokjin rolls his eyes again. “It doesn’t even make sense. What the fuck did I do? First, he takes me out on something that’s not a date, but surely looks like one, then he walks me back to my room, kisses me goodbye, and suddenly, boom, I don’t see him for like a week. I just don’t know what to do with him anymore.”

“It’s kinda funny to me how you just talk about it like everyone knows, now,” Seokjin comments, purposefully not looking at him. “You’re not even trying to hide it anymore. That’s growth.”

“That’s being a clown,” Yoongi murmurs, staring at his legs in defeat. “What do I gain from denying it? It’s still unbelievable to me that I was so fucking weak it took me a couple of one night stands and his stupid face to forget I didn’t even like his ass in the first place.”

“Oh, come on now.” Seokjin shakes his head. “I thought you were making progress.”

Yoongi’s eyes shoot up, offering him an intrigued look. “What?”

“You seriously still think you two really hated each other?” Seokjin scoffs. Yoongi ducks his head to the side. “Please. It started over fucking ice cream. It was never that serious. You two only took it that far because you’re both so uselessly stubborn.”

“I —” Yoongi inhales a sharp breath. “I don’t know.”

“Honestly, just confront him. You two have been circling each other for way too much time.”

“How do I do that if he’s not texting me back?”

Seokjin shrugs it off while he gets up from the bed and plants himself in front of the mirror. “You go to his room and kick Hoseok out.”

“He’s never there anyway,” Yoongi says, though Seokjin’s idea doesn’t sound terrible. It even sounds doable, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s scared shitless of being face to face with him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m having trouble with this one chem class because it’s basically half math and I need Sooyoung’s help.” Seokjin turns around and glares at his roommate, an unspoken threat written all over his tone. “Don’t fucking say anything.”

Yoongi holds his hands up in defeat. “I swear.”

Apparently satisfied with his answer, he glares at him one last time before he walks to the door. One split second before he’s out of the room, Yoongi yells out, “Get laid in my honor!”

“Fuck you!” Seokjin yells back, causing a grin to appear on Yoongi’s face as he hears him walk away. Teasing him will never stop being funny.

Now that Seokjin put the idea in his mind, he’s finding it hard to get it out. Maybe it’s really time that he takes matters into his own hands.

Though hesitantly, he finally decides to fight off that last bit of anxiety he had in him when it comes to everything related to Namjoon, and before he knows it he’s already walking down the hallway and straight to his room, hoping desperately he won’t meet anyone he knows along the way. Deep down, he has a feeling that it’s not going to go well, but he ignores it. He can’t afford to back off now.

Perfectly aware he’s going to find the door open, he pushes it without even knocking first. Now that he did the hard part — actually taking a decision — he feels like he’s traveling on autopilot.

The sight he’s met with when he steps inside is exactly the one he feared the most. Namjoon is alone, and he’s sat cross-legged on his bed with his laptop resting on his thighs. When he hears him walk in, he looks up.

The second their eyes meet, it’s overwhelming, because of all things he was expecting to see on his face, he hadn’t predicted anger at all.

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon asks, slow and calculated, but mostly so cold Yoongi can feel the ice building up in his voice just by hearing it come out of him.

“You weren’t answering and I was worried,” Yoongi replies, visibly deflating as he shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s not sure he wants to do this anymore. “So I came.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine, and nobody asked you,” Namjoon states flatly, not even bothering to add anything else before going back to his laptop screen. “Maybe take the hint next time.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he blurts out before he can stop himself, the shock gradually being replaced with irritation. 

“A lot of things, as you already know.” Namjoon keeps looking at him with that blank look that’s freaking him the fuck out. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“Are you seriously trying to be the victim here?” Yoongi snaps, losing grip on his balance one word at a time. “You cut me off for no fucking reason, and you don’t think I deserve an explanation other than ‘take the hint’? Wow. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

It’s so reminiscent of a period of time he was praying they would leave in the past forever that he almost wants to cry, right there in front of him.

“That’s a really great speech,” Namjoon compliments him, clearly as sarcastic as one could get. “I’m glad you were able to predict it. Are you done? Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Namjoon scoffs, sending another glare his way. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about, because one day I’m your best friend, and the next I don’t even exist. Forgive me for being clueless.”

“That’s funny, isn’t that exactly what you did? One day it’s all flowers and sunshine, and the next you already hopped on to the next person, so no, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Yoongi stares at him with a shocked look. “What is that supposed to —”

“It’s really insulting that you’re keeping it up, you know?” Namjoon chuckles bitterly. “Why are you still here?”

“You’re a fucking asshole, holy shit.” At this point, he’s so mad he’s close to yelling. “You don’t need to make up excuses if you’re tired of being around me. You could have just told me you changed your mind. I can finish the comic on my own.”

“The comic?” Namjoon suddenly looks confused, but Yoongi doesn’t care enough to notice.

“You know what?” he says, ignoring Namjoon’s questioning tone. He’s trying really hard not to say something he will regret, but it’s proving to be a very difficult task. “You’re right. I really should leave. Good talking to you.”

He turns around and marches straight to the doorway without looking back, and if there are tears threatening to escape him, he sucks it up and focuses his anger into slamming the door on his way out.




“I’m gonna need you to tell me what the fuck happened between you and Namjoon,” is the first thing Hoseok says as he sits down in front of him and causes him to lose focus on what he’s studying. 

“Why are you asking me?” Yoongi gives him a blank stare, immensely done with the conversation before it’s even properly started. He knows Namjoon is somewhere in the library, because he saw him walk in with Hoseok, but he doesn’t want to look up to see where exactly. “He’s your best friend, not mine.”

“Because he won’t talk, and what he did say didn’t make sense.”

“That’s not my problem,” Yoongi concludes, surprisingly managing to keep an even tone throughout the whole sentence. He’s dying to know what it is that Namjoon told him, but he doesn’t want to be the weak one once again. “Blackmail him or something, because I’m trying to study here.”

“Wow, no need to be that hostile.”

Yoongi lets out a deep sigh and hides his face in his hands, finally giving up on his textbook. “Sorry. I’m just so tired.”

“It’s fine,” Hoseok says, touching his shoulder in sympathy. Yoongi shakes his head. “What happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, honestly.”

“Don’t you want to fix it?”

“Not when he’s not willing to just fucking talk to me,” Yoongi finally snaps, directing his eyes to the ceiling in an attempt at finding something to stare at that won’t make him look like a creep. “I’m tired of being the one who has to run after him. I tried to take the first step, and it ended up being a terrible decision. He hasn’t talked to me in like a week. If he wants to suck it up and stop being an asshole, it’s his call.”

“But maybe —”

“Hey,” a voice interrupts Hoseok’s sentence. “Everything okay?”

Yoongi looks up from the textbook and his face breaks into a smile, happy to have an excuse to get out of the conversation. Chanyeol lowers his body to give him a one-armed hug, which Yoongi returns. Hoseok curves an eyebrow and just sort of looks at them.

“Yeah, kinda,” Yoongi confirms once they come apart, smiling at the way Chanyeol’s hand keeps resting on his shoulder when he sits down next to him. It’s oddly comforting, at least. “I’m almost done.”

“I’m all caught up. I hate doing everything last minute.”

“Me too!” Hoseok chimes in, and both Chanyeol and Yoongi’s heads immediately turn to him.

“If I remember correctly, you finished studying for your last test ten minutes before it started,” Yoongi says flatly.

“Shush.” Hoseok puts a hand on his mouth and Yoongi smacks it away. “That was one time.”

“You always do it — mmpfh.”

“Hoseok,” Chanyeol says with an amused voice. “Stop harassing him.”

“He started it.” Hoseok takes his hand off Yoongi’s face and crosses his legs in a dramatic motion. “This is defamation of character.”

“It’s definitely not defamation if what I’m saying is true.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Hoseok says, and for a second Yoongi’s mind warps it into another voice, but then it disappears when he speaks again. “I’m trying, okay.”

“Bye, Hobi.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and gets up from the table. “Have fun.”

Yoongi nods distractedly and Chanyeol puts an arm around his shoulder, striking a quiet conversation with him. Hoseok shakes his head and walks away, while Namjoon stands up at the same time and follows him. Yoongi didn’t realize he was sitting that close to him, and for some reason that knowledge just contributes to making him disappointed instead of angry. Before he’s out, Namjoon glances at Yoongi and catches him staring as their eyes lock. Yoongi swallows and looks away instantly.


Hoseok sighs in defeat, Namjoon trailing behind him as they walk through the hallway. “So what?”

“Are they dating?”

“I don’t know.” He just shrugs. “They might be.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he asks, finally catching up to his steps. “You always know. Did you ask him?”

“This time I don’t,” he says quietly. “And I didn’t ask him. You should deal with this on your own.”

“This what? I don’t care.”

“Yet you asked.”

“Yeah, I asked,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s pretty sure he deserves to be informed. “Just wanted to know what the fuck he’s doing.”

“Keep lying to yourself, Namjoon.” Hoseok just looks infinitely done. “Just because you think you saw them kissing it really doesn’t give you the right to treat him that way. One, you’re not together, and two, maybe even if they did, it didn’t mean anything. That hug in the library looked pretty friendly to me.”

“I’m not lying — ugh.” He opens the door and Namjoon follows him inside. “I just don’t like that guy, okay? He gives off weird vibes.”

“Chanyeol?” Hoseok asks, already sprawled out on his bed. “He seems nice enough to me.”

“I know. He’s too nice. It’s weird.”

“It’s just the philosophy majors. They have like a chill aura.”

“Have you ever talked to Jungkook at all?” Namjoon says sarcastically. “If you think he’s chill, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Writers are usually pretty chill too, then there’s you,” Hoseok points out without looking away from his phone. “So, yeah.”

“Fuck you, okay,” Namjoon shoots back. “Melbourne is starting to miss you.”

“Aww. You haven’t told me to go back to Australia in so long that I almost forgot I’m actually supposed to leave at some point.”

“What?” Namjoon frowns, taken aback by his words. If there is one thing he wasn’t expecting, it was exactly that. “When?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Hoseok finally takes his gaze off the screen and turns to him, moving until he’s lying on the mattress on his side. “You didn’t think I was gonna stay here, right?”

When he doesn’t hear an answer, he raises his head to glance at the other side of the room. “Joon?”

“No, yeah, right.” Namjoon sighs and directs his eyes towards the ceiling, trying to avoid Hoseok’s face. “You’re right. So, when?”

“After graduation, I think?”


There’s a silent pause, until Hoseok starts laughing. “What are you doing?”

Namjoon climbs on his bed and pins him down to it, but then he looks like he changed his mind and just crawls into his arms.

“Hug me,” he mutters on his shoulder. “Please.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, confused by the abrupt display of affection, but wraps his arms around him nonetheless.

“Yeah.” Namjoon hides his face on his chest and closes his eyes. He’s really not okay, but that seems insignificant at the moment. “I love you.”

“I’m repeating myself here, but, are you okay?” Hoseok laughs briefly, but his face becomes serious in the blink of an eye. “No, really. What’s going on? This is weird.”

“Nothing,” he says, his voice coming out low. “You’re — you’re a great friend. I think I’ll miss you.”

Hoseok’s chest feels heavy at that, so he just touches his hair in careful strokes.

“I appreciate it,” he whispers, Namjoon’s hair brushing against his neck and making him chuckle. “You’ll be fine, really.”

“I don’t know about that.” Namjoon shakes his head, not daring to look up. It’s more comfortable this way. “I completely forgot you would have to leave sooner or later.”

Hoseok laughs. “I noticed.”

“You’ve been here for months and I literally took you for granted.” He finally lets Hoseok go, but when he rolls to the other side of the bed, he’s still not looking at him. “I’m a moron.”

“You’re not a moron,” Hoseok says softly, grabbing his hand. Namjoon lets him. It should be weird, but it’s not. “You’re just a bit dumb.”

“Aww, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Namjoon licks his lips, trying to focus. “What about Jimin?”

“What about him?” Hoseok repeats, sounding more tired than anything else. 

“Is he leaving with you, or what?” Namjoon tightens the grip of his fingers on his hand out of instinct, and Hoseok squeezes back. “You two have been distant.”

“I mean, I asked him.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t expect him to say yes, really. I just did it to get the option out there. We’ve been together for what, five months? I’m not going to get mad because he doesn’t want to completely turn his life upside down for me.”

“I’m sorry, Hobi,” Namjoon whispers, finally deciding to take a proper look at him. Hoseok’s eyes are sad, and he’s not used to seeing that kind of emotion on him. It’s almost hurtful not to spot his usual friendly smile. “I’ve dumped all my problems on you when you have it way worse.”

“It’s not a competition,” Hoseok says. For a moment that smile is back, and Namjoon finds himself mirroring it with one of his own. “I’ll be okay, I think.”

“You will,” Namjoon replies, and Hoseok just hugs him again.




“Are you gonna answer that?” Chanyeol asks, nodding at his phone.

Yoongi grabs it and frowns at the screen. “What the fuck?”

“What is it?”

Yoongi reads it over again to be sure.

(from: wendy williams) YOONGI HELP

(from: wendy williams) my last highlighter stopped working and i CANNOT study without one can you bring me one i know you have a whole stash please PLEASE

“Hoseok needs a highlighter?” Yoongi says, unable to avoid making it sound like a question. “And he wants it from me?”

“That guy is so eccentric,” Chanyeol comments, clearly amused. “Go, then. I’m pretty sure you’ve done enough today.” 

“This fucking comic is killing me.” Yoongi groans. “What if Namjoon is there?”

“You talk to him?” Chanyeol just says, like it’s that simple. “This ignoring thing you two have going on is bordering on ridiculous.”

“He started it.” He rubs the side of his face with his hand, but eventually decides to grab the ugliest highlighter he has on his desk and gets up. “Whatever.”

“Yeah, boy. Go get him.”

“I want to cry,” Yoongi mutters, blinking a couple of times to try and focus. “You’re coming?”

“Hell no,” Chanyeol exclaims, following him outside. “I don’t wanna be there for the gladiator fight.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I know,” he says, bumping his shoulder against Yoongi’s. “I’m going back to my room.”

The walk to Hoseok’s room — somehow calling it Hoseok’s makes it more bearable — is over way too soon for his liking, and he’s about to open the door when his phone vibrates again.

(from: wendy williams) i’m so sorry but you’ll thank me in the long run

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he reads it, but his hand is already pushing the door, so he puts the thought on stand-by.

“Take this damn highlighter before I strangle you and let me go back to my business,” he exclaims, closing the door behind him.

He raises his head and his eyes meet Namjoon’s, so he immediately goes stiff. Suddenly, Hoseok’s text makes way too much sense, and he instantly feels a sudden and incessant need to run away and disappear.

“Why are you here?” he asks eventually.

“Why are you here?” Namjoon repeats, staring back at him from his desk with a weird look he can’t decipher. It’s angry but, at the same time, it’s different. “If you’re looking for Hoseok, he’s with Sooyoung.”

Yoongi frowns and holds up the highlighter. “He told me to bring him this.”

“That’s fucking ugly.”

Yoongi shrugs and shoves it in his pocket. “Why do you think I’m giving it to him?”

Namjoon chuckles briefly. Yoongi’s heart jumps in his throat. Namjoon doesn’t reply, however, but he walks up to him, so Yoongi retreats out of an automatic reflex.

“I think he set you up,” he says simply, stopping right in front of him. “Sorry about that.”

“Do you have anything to do with it?” Yoongi asks, already irritated. “Because I don’t get what you could want from me.”

“I’m as clueless as you are, actually.” He leans forward until their faces are way too close for Yoongi’s liking. For a moment, it feels as if they’re back to months and months ago, and it’s uncomfortable. Foreign. “So no, I don’t have anything to do with it.”

“That’s great, I’m gonna leave,” Yoongi says, desperate to just get out of the room, but Namjoon grabs his arm before he can even turn around all the way through. “Let me go.”

“No,” Namjoon replies bluntly. “You’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” Yoongi glares at him. “I said let me go.”


They’re still way too close for his own comfort, and he’s finding it difficult to stay focused with the way they’re standing.

“Can you please back off, at least?” he questions him harshly, already done with whatever Namjoon thinks he’s doing. 

“I’m not planning to,” is the only thing he says as he takes ahold of his other wrist.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi warns him again, feeling trapped. He’s pushing him against the flat surface of his desk at this point, until his back actually hits it with a soft thud. “Let me go.”

“Why did you kiss him?”

Yoongi freezes on the spot, suddenly insensitive to the firm grip of Namjoon’s fingers on his skin.


“Why did you kiss him?” Namjoon asks again, harsher this time, and Yoongi closes his eyes. The pieces of the puzzles finally find their rightful place in the mess he has in his mind, doing absolutely nothing to calm him down.

When he looks at him again, he just knows he’s fuming. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but it’s not any of your fucking business either way. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me like the plague? Really fucking mature, Namjoon.”

The grip of his fingers slightly loosens up, but Yoongi does nothing to get away from it. “I —”

“I’m tired of you playing with me,” Yoongi snaps without breaking eye contact. “It’s like I exist only when it’s convenient for you. I don’t know what to do with you anymore.”

“Sure,” he mutters angrily, the grip of his hands on Yoongi’s skin growing tighter. “It’s not like it matters, anyway. Now you spend all your time with that praying mantis with a stripper pole body.”

“Chanyeol?” Yoongi laughs briefly at that, because of course the only thing he could find to refer to him is a pseudo-insult about his height. Yoongi’s levels of annoyance are going through the roof, and he just wants all of this to end. “Is that what’s happening? You’re jealous because I have friends?”

“Yeah, friends,” Namjoon says, as if the word disgusts him. “Of course you two are friends. Friends kiss each other all the time.”

“How many times have you kissed me?” Yoongi laughs, void of any actual amusement. “Right. Well, be aware of the fact just that because you don’t know how friends work, it doesn’t mean nobody else does.”

“Shut up, just — stop talking.” Their faces are so close their lips are almost touching. “Shut up.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi glares at him. “Make me shut up.”

Not even a second after that sentence, Namjoon is already kissing him with so much force they almost both trip over the chair and fall down on the desk, his hands holding him so tight after they move to his hips that Yoongi can feel it leaving marks on his skin.

“You have no idea of the things I wanna do to you,” he growls on his lips, their bodies glued together as one. “You’re just so fucking — impossible.”

Yoongi keeps breathing heavily, his self-control already dead and gone once he feels Namjoon’s hard-on press against his thigh. He already knows he’s not going to resist.

“Do them then,” he snaps back, his fingers holding on to his hair in a hard grip. “See if I care.”

“I know what you like more than anyone else.” His voice is low and controlled as he sends him straight into the desk on the other side with a motion of his hips, Yoongi’s back to him. The arrogance should bother him, but he’s right. Namjoon is right, and they both know it. He whines in pain when Namjoon takes a hold of his hair and pulls, making him arch his back until he can whisper in his ear. “See if he’ll fuck you like I can.”

“It’s not your fucking business,” Yoongi spits out, immensely turned on despite not wanting to be. 

“I’m pretty sure it is,” he replies just as harsh, letting go of his hair to pull his pants down, along with his own. Yoongi coughs, and then lets him take his shirt off, his hands so tight when they go back to holding the edge of the desk that his knuckles almost turn white.

Namjoon’s hands grab his ass and he drops down on his knees, earning a deep moan right out of his throat.

“Fuck,” Yoongi exhales again at the feeling of Namjoon’s tongue working inside him, his own body shivering at every motion he performs.

Yoongi’s trembling, all of his body weight pushed against the desk to keep himself standing up, so the first thing Namjoon does when he stands up again is grab him by the throat to fold his body backwards. He applies pressure on it as he does so, his own arousal growing once he starts hearing a more fatigued breathing pattern coming from his lips.

“It drives me crazy to know that he fucked you,” he murmurs, low enough for it to be almost menacing. “That he touched you.”

Yoongi closes his eyes, but doesn’t say anything to that, too busy trying to breathe through the pleasure and Namjoon’s hold on his neck. He wouldn’t know what to say even if he could.

“How did he do it?” Namjoon asks, keeping his tone at the same volume as he penetrates him with two fingers at the same time without warning, causing him to let out a choked moan.

“I’m so sure he was gentle,” he keeps talking in his ear while his fingers work inside him, his other hand busy wrapped around his neck. “He looks like it, but you don’t like that, do you?”

A soft whimper escapes from his lips in response just as Namjoon adds a third digit and Yoongi shakes his head.

“No, you get off on being treated like shit. You’re lucky that’s exactly what I can do to you.”

His fingers slide out of him and he lets go of his neck, causing him to gasp and cough as air fills his lungs again and he bends over on the desk to try and inhale. Namjoon exploits that split moment to grab his hips and stroke his hard length on his entrance, before lining it up with it and sinking into him.

Yoongi lets out yet another deep and breathtaking moan that gets cut off shortly after once it’s replaced by a cough, due to his lungs not breathing properly again yet.

“Fuck, Joon,” he exhales as he starts moving inside of him with steady movements of his hips, his hands firm on his body to make the process easier. “Move.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, slamming into him again with so much blunt force he almost knocks his head against the desk as the impact makes him bend over. “Close your damn mouth.”

Yoongi keeps breathing heavily, the struggle still evident in the way his chest rises every time he exhales, interrupted at random times by scattered moans with every thrust Namjoon performs.

It hurts, though the pain keeps translating to pleasure in his head so well he doesn’t know where the former starts and the latter ends anymore. He’s not sure there was ever a distinction for him. His mind is completely blank, and all he can think of is how turned on he is, how he doesn’t dare touching himself because of Namjoon, and how the anxiety that the idea gives him only adds to the pleasure he’s feeling.

He breathes Namjoon’s name out again, until Namjoon slams one more time into him with a harsher thrust than the others and digs his nails into the flesh of his hips, earning moan after moan right from his core.

Namjoon bends over him, his clothed chest touching Yoongi’s naked back, and just as he can feel his peak coming Yoongi shouts a string of curses and comes, so fast it’s almost embarrassing. It’s way more painful to him now that his mind is coming back to reality, but he stays still for the couple of seconds Namjoon needs to reach his climax too, releasing into his ass so viciously he can feel it drip down his bare thigh.

They end up panting heavily all over each other until Namjoon slips out of him and pulls his pants up, holding to one of his shelves to stand upright. His chest keeps rising with every breath he lets out, his eyes closed and his hands holding on the furniture behind him, and Yoongi attempts to get dressed too, but he’s doing it on autopilot.

His legs are still not properly back to their best when he speaks.

“You know what?” he says, his voice trembling. “You’ll never fucking get it.”

“What?” Namjoon exclaims when Yoongi makes for the door. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” he replies without looking at him. He’s not sure he can stand being in his presence right now.

“Wait! Why?”

Yoongi finally turns back around, irritated again by how oblivious Namjoon still is, even after everything that’s happened. “Oh, so now you really wanna know why?” 

“Yes,” he says as he stares back. “I do.”

“You’re still an asshole,” he snaps, his eyes betraying his anger. “I thought you changed, I really did, but you’re still the same fucking person you were before.”

He knows it’s unfair to say that, he knows it more than anyone else, and he becomes sure of it when Namjoon’s eyes darken out of hurt, but he’s so angry about this — so angry at him, that all of it gets tossed to the back of his mind.

“Why are you acting like this? We did it for months, and now it’s not okay anymore?”

They keep glaring at each other while they talk, and Yoongi is just sure that he has never looked this furious in the other boy’s presence.

“It was just us!” Yoongi balls his hands into fists, trying to stay calm. “And if you want to know — if you just fucking asked me like a reasonable person instead of coming to conclusions out of nowhere, you would’ve known that Chanyeol and I are not together. We’ll never be together. That’s what we were talking about when you saw us. We’re not dating, but the fact you thought we were and did this anyway just goes to show how fucking self-centered you are.”

Namjoon’s skin is paler now, and he looks as if the idea is slowly sinking in. “What do you mean you’ll never be together?”

“I don’t wanna date him.” Yoongi chuckles bitterly. “He doesn’t want to be with me, either. Nobody would want to date someone who’s already in love with someone else. Take a fucking guess, Namjoon.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You still don’t get it? I thought your brain worked better than that.”

Namjoon stares at him, clearly lost, and Yoongi is exhausted.

“It means that I’m in love with you!”

His words float in the air for a few seconds, the tension in the room so dense you could cut it with a knife, until Namjoon seems to slowly react.

“You’re — what?” His jaw drops, and he’s left staring at him with his lips parted. Even despite the jumbled mess of emotions Yoongi’s going through, he can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks, disheveled and in shock. It almost makes him want to laugh.

“I love you,” he repeats, quieter this time, defeated almost. “Are you satisfied now?”

“What the fuck?” His eyes spark with realization, the confusion gradually replaced with a hint of awareness. “You don’t like me.”

“Believe me, I’m well fucking aware that’s how it was supposed to be.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper. “Thanks for your input, but you’re a good few months behind.”

“I —” Namjoon mutters under his breath, only to cut himself off as he looks down.

“What else do you want me to tell you? I said it. I love you. Now please let me fucking leave.”

He turns around to face the door for a second time, but he’s stopped again when he hears him yell, “Wait!”


Namjoon is close to him again when Yoongi looks at him, his hair still all out of place.

“I don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get?” he snaps, taking a step back to avoid being too close to him. “You want a detailed recollection of the timeline?”

“I just —”

“Because I can do that, you know,” he continues, his words coming out snarky and bitter. “What is it you want to know? How every time I saw you laugh I wanted to punch you and now I just want to be the cause of it? How when I’m with you I don’t even know how to function and I always end up in your bed because it’s the only time you treat me like I want to be treated? How every time we fucked I had to pretend you wouldn’t go back to acting like I didn’t even exist the second your dick was out? You wanna know that?”

Namjoon keeps staring at him dumbfounded and still stunned, but now that Yoongi finally started talking it’s all pouring out and flooding his thoughts and his words, and he feels like he’ll drown if he doesn’t drain the pool.

“You’re everywhere and in everything I do, and I can’t even stay away from you because you forced your way into my life and my art and even my friends like you, but you’re so fucking beautiful and dumb and blind and you just don’t get it. You don’t even realize it. I hate that it took me so long to notice.”

Namjoon hurries up to him and tries to touch his arm, but Yoongi takes another step back, as if he’s been burned. As if even being in his presence hurts.

“I don’t know what to say,” Namjoon whispers.

“I’m tired of running after you.” Yoongi puts a hand on the doorknob and pushes the door open, unable to look at his face. “I know you like me too. Everyone knows. The only one who doesn’t know it is you. You’re free to show your face when you’re ready to admit it to yourself, but I don’t even want to look at you right now.”

When he slams it behind his back, he can hear Namjoon yelling at him to wait one more time. Yoongi stops for a couple of seconds, allowing some hope to pervade his chest despite everything. When the door stays closed, he shakes his head to himself, cursing himself out for being so stupid, and finally walks away.




“Hobi?” Namjoon says the second he hears the other end pick up. “I think I fucked up.”




“Wait, I’m not following you. So he confessed?”

“Fuck this.” Namjoon takes a deep breath and looks at Hoseok again. “He told me he’s in love with me, and that I like him too, but I’m too chicken to admit it — then when he stormed out I didn’t stop him.”

Hoseok puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer, managing to calm him down at least slightly, though there’s still panic in his eyes.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Namjoon adds, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should’ve talked to him, and I didn’t, and now I fucked up.”

“You should have,” Hoseok says quietly. Oddly enough, he doesn’t say that he was right for once, and Namjoon is internally grateful for it. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say you didn’t act like an idiot. You did.”

Namjoon sniffles, avoiding his eyes. “I know.”

“But you can fix it.”


“Talk to him.” He sighs. “Is he wrong?”

“Is he wrong?”

Hoseok holds him tighter. “Is he wrong? Do you like him?”

“I — I think so?” Namjoon casts his eyes down again, incapable of making sense of the mess in his head. “Why did you send him to our room? You know I can’t control myself around him.”

“That’s exactly the reason why I did it. You were never gonna talk to each other otherwise.”

“I fucked up,” he repeats, shaking his head. “I fucked up really badly, and now he hates me, and I — I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Breathe, Joon,” Hoseok tells him, leaving a kiss on the top of his head. “He doesn’t hate you. He just told you he loves you.”

“I don’t know anything,” he says again. “I miss him, Hobi. I’m so stupid.”

“Stop calling yourself stupid.” Hoseok scowls. “Why do you think you miss him?”

“I don’t know.” He covers his face with his hands. “Or maybe I do. I don’t know that either.”

“Just say it,” he says gently, trying to calm him down as if he’s talking a scared animal. “It’s okay.”

“Okay.” Namjoon’s voice comes out so low Hoseok leans in to hear him. “Maybe I know.”

Hoseok nods knowingly, bringing his other arm up to wrap him in a protective embrace, which Namjoon immediately returns. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t know if I’m capable of being the person he wants me to be,” Namjoon murmurs on his shoulder. “I’m trying. I keep fucking it up.”

“He doesn’t want you to be anything different from what you already are.” He starts caressing his back in a soothing manner, and Namjoon exhales a shaky breath. “He just wants you to acknowledge your feelings and stop circling around him. He loves you like you are — you know that.”

Namjoon closes his eyes, the realization of what he feels for Yoongi crashing down on him so suddenly it’s making it harder for him to think.

“I told him something,” he reveals, his voice hesitant. “And he’s been so understanding with me. I feel so bad.”

Hoseok nods, but doesn’t ask him to confirm what he’s thinking. He keeps holding him instead, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole on purpose. I just — I don’t think I’m capable of not being so closed off emotionally. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I’m just a coward.”

“I think he understands that,” Hoseok says. “He just wants you to be honest with him. And you’re not a coward. Stop insulting yourself.”

“I —” Namjoon nods, but doesn’t move. “I can try.”

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

"Actually, I think I need to go,” Namjoon says, and he looks terrified, but Hoseok doesn’t point it out. “Can you get Seokjin to steer clear of Yoongi’s room?”

A small smile appears on Hoseok’s face when he understands what he wants to do. “Let me call him.”

“Don’t even make up an excuse, just tell him the truth, I don’t care,” Namjoon adds, already pacing around the room. “It’s fucking whatever at this point.”

“Don’t worry, everyone knows already. You were the only one out of the loop.”

Namjoon glares at him, but then Seokjin apparently picks up, and Hoseok stops paying attention to him. “Seokjin? I need you out of your room. Now. No, I don’t care if you’re having lunch with the queen of Britain, it’s a Namgi matter. Skidaddle. You’re staying with me tonight.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, forgetting for a moment that he’s anxious. “Namgi?”

“It’s a thing — we had, like, a group chat, don’t worry,” Hoseok says as he locks his phone. “What? What are you waiting for? A miracle? Go. Go!”

“Okay, okay,” Namjoon exclaims in confusion while Hoseok glares at him. “I’m going.”

He bumps into Seokjin on the way out, but he barely pays any attention to him as he speeds down the hallway.




There’s a knock at the door, and Yoongi sighs. It wasn’t bad enough that Seokjin had decided to run away randomly not even three minutes after he got there, now he’s back already too?

He gets up and goes to the door, completely drained. It’s late, and all he wants to do is go to sleep. For like the umpteenth time this week, he’s not sure whether he’s more exhausted mentally or physically. 

His money is on mentally, and what he sees when he actually opens the door does nothing to alleviate it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he says, almost more surprised than actually angry, but his first instinct is to close the door again.

Before the door even closes halfway through, though, Namjoon blocks it with his foot, and Yoongi glares at him, finding it exhausting even to move his muscles, but then he fully takes a proper look at him, and it worries him.

He looks tired, more than he always is, and the usual spark of sharpness his eyes always show is seemingly gone. It’s haunting to realize he looks exactly the way Yoongi does.

He still finds himself staring at him almost in awe, his chest hurting from how much he just wants to reach out.

He doesn’t, however, and what appears from outside is an emotionless stare.

“Can I come in?”

Yoongi doesn’t move a muscle, trying to keep his composure. “No.”


“You can say whatever it is you need to tell me here. You have two minutes.”

Namjoon hesitates for a second. When Yoongi’s expression doesn’t change, he swallows and takes a deep breath immediately after.

“I’m sorry.” He looks up and their eyes meet, so he swallows again before clearing his throat. Yoongi leans against the doorframe, his body language marginally more welcoming, though his face stays set in stone. “I’m not the most emotionally available person, and I just don’t really know how to handle this type of stuff. I really thought what I felt for you was hate. It was too fucking intense for it to rationally be anything else, at least for me.”

While he speaks, he gradually walks towards Yoongi, who doesn’t try to get away from him, and they end up looking at each other with a minimal distance between them.

“So I tried to compensate by being an asshole to you,” he continues, resting a hand on Yoongi’s arm. He stands straighter, but doesn’t take his arm away. “I don’t know why my stupid brain decided it would be a good idea, especially when we started making progress. Like, the whole vibe and stuff.”

“Vibe and stuff, not bad for a writer,” Yoongi cuts him off, a hint of a smile starting to appear on his lips as the joke helps breaking the tension. It’s hard to stay angry at him, and honestly, seeing him is making all of his walls crumble like they were never there in the first place.

Namjoon laughs, and the sound makes Yoongi smile again, properly this time. 

“I told you I don’t know how to do this.” His tone becomes serious again. “I felt it, but it felt so foreign to me, so I just shoved it down and repressed it, and I tried so hard. But then I saw you with Chanyeol, kissing him, and I knew you can do what you want, but it was so intense that I didn’t even realize why I was that jealous.”

Yoongi closes his eyes for a second. “Why?”


“Why were you jealous?”

Namjoon leans in and takes his face in his hands, but Yoongi doesn’t try to pull away. He looks determined, and so intense it’s overwhelming. He brushes his lips against his, so lightly they almost miss it.

“I’m so dumb that it took me this long to get it, and even Sooyoung’s cold-hearted soul got it before me.”

Yoongi snorts. “So?”

“I’m really in love with your stupid ass,” Namjoon whispers, making him crack an embarrassed smile. His heart jumps. He’s so close to having a heart attack. “And I only realized after you cursed me out.”

“You are?” Yoongi asks, and Namjoon lets out a brief chuckle.

“Yeah.” He rests his forehead against his, and their eyes meet again. “I’m in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

“Did you really have to say my full name?”

“Yeah, I did.”


“I love you,” Namjoon says again, feeling the warmth of his cheeks under the touch of his fingertips. “I know I didn’t handle it like I should have.”

“We need to talk about this,” Yoongi admits.

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees, breathless. “Yeah. We definitely will, but not now.”

Yoongi immediately picks up on the sudden shift in his voice. “Not now?”

“Not now,” he repeats with a small smile. “I’ll die if I don’t get my hands on you in the next ten seconds.”

Yoongi looks down, embarrassed, but Namjoon follows his gaze with his own. “We will, Yoongi. Later.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi breathes out in the end, his mind already elsewhere. “Yeah. Later.”

Namjoon nods and their lips finally meet. Yoongi’s hands lightly grab his hips and Namjoon keeps kissing him with what he thinks feels like the force of a thousand suns.

They end up inside the room at last, and Namjoon closes the door behind them with his foot, unable to keep his hands off Yoongi. The kiss is rushed and desperate, though it’s different. It’s completely different from every kiss they’ve ever shared and they both know it.

From there to the bed the path is blurry and over in a flash, and then their clothes are gone and their tongues are touching and it feels like they’re rediscovering each other for the first time as their bodies intertwine.

“I love you.” Yoongi breathes out on his sweaty skin. “You’re still so fucking irritating, but God —”

Namjoon kisses him again and again until they physically need to breathe, and when they come, it’s almost at the same time. Once they regain their breaths, their lips touch yet another time, keeping them from staying away from each other.

“You still make me mad,” Yoongi says as they find themselves breathing heavily with their faces close. “You’re so annoying.”

Namjoon grins, his heart beating so fast it feels like it’s going to run out of his chest. “I know I do. I wouldn’t change that for anything else.”




“Joon?” Namjoon replies with a neutral hum, his eyes fixated on the fading darkness of nothing and everything at the same time. “Why are you sitting half naked in the middle of the room?”

“You fell asleep and I couldn’t. I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

Yoongi quietly walks up to him and sits down cross-legged on the floor, their arms touching. There’s a weird spark in his eyes he isn’t able to identify, even through the dim light coming from outside.

“Joon.” He gently touches his shoulder with his hand. “It’s four in the morning.”

“I know.” Namjoon covers his hand with his own and takes it off his shoulder, only to intertwine their fingers and place them on his lap. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why?” Yoongi holds his hand tighter. “Nightmare?”

“No. I just kept thinking,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate further.

“About what?” Yoongi asks quietly, not sure he wants to actually hear the answer.


His heart sinks, but he pays it no mind. “And what did you find?”

“It’s actually scary how much I’ve been dependent on you.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, though he manages to stay composed. “Yeah?”

“It’s been crashing down on me all at once,” he admits with a chuckle. “It’s like my brain is trying to make up for all the time I spent clueless.”

Yoongi stays quiet. It’s clear Namjoon needs to talk, so he doesn’t interrupt him and just rests his head on his shoulder. Namjoon keeps staring into space as he speaks.

“I was so dumb. I didn’t understand why I was so jealous of you, but it was so obvious.” Namjoon finally looks away, only to cast his eyes down. “I was scared of growing attached to you, only to risk losing you. Then I kept playing with you, and I was really losing you.”

He wets his lips before speaking again.

“All that stuff with my family and my sister — it changed me. I never was good at feelings, but since then I’ve been scared of letting anyone get close to me, because I knew if I lost them I wouldn’t be able to handle it. So when I started realizing what I felt for you wasn’t actually resentment I went into shutdown, I guess.”

“It’s not like I was a saint,” Yoongi admits, trying to alleviate the blame he was putting on himself, his words lingering in his mind like a whirlwind of emotions. “There were a lot of times when I should’ve been more understanding.”

“So basically, we’re both morons.”

Yoongi starts laughing at his bluntness, and finally the tension in the room disappears.

“Yeah, but you’re way dumber than me.”

“Just because I’m slower at processing emotions, it doesn’t mean you should bully me.”

Yoongi bumps his arm against his playfully. “You sure about that?”

“Maybe.” He starts stroking his thumb on the back of Yoongi’s hand. “I’ve been so blind to everything. I’m sorry about — you know. I thought you were together and I did that anyway. It was a shitty thing to do. I was jealous. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, but I’m working on it. I’m trying to be less of a fuck-up.”

“You’re not one, but I appreciate it.” Yoongi laughs briefly. “I can see you’re trying. I’m sorry for saying you’re still an asshole.”

“No, I deserved that.” Namjoon’s lips curl up in a small smile. “The fact I really thought I hated you — I think I really did at first, but the more I saw you interact with your friends, the more it hit me that I wanted that.”

“You can have it.”

“I don’t know if I can be in a relationship, but I really want to.” He holds his hand tighter. “For you. With you. If you’ll have the patience of letting me try.”

Yoongi nods, and when Namjoon sees it in the corner of his eye, he finally lets a genuine smile appear on his lips.

“We can figure it out together.” Yoongi says, touching his chin with two fingers until their eyes meet. “We have time.”

“Yeah.” Namjoon agrees. “But you’re still annoying.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and puts his hand down, but then a chuckle escapes Namjoon and he gets it.

“You’re fucking irritating.”

“You drive me insane and I can’t stand you.”

They stare at each other for a couple of seconds, until they both start laughing hysterically at the same time.

“We should go back to sleep.”

“I told you I couldn’t.”

“If I sucked your dick, would that help?”

Namjoon stares at him. Yoongi stares back.


“Okay.” A grin appears on Yoongi’s face. “Get on the bed and maybe we can do something about it.”




“You know they’re gonna tease us for like one hour straight.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon replies with a big smile on his face, their bodies still close as they just separated from a kiss. “Might as well rip the band-aid off, honestly.”

“Okay then,” Yoongi agrees. “Lead the way.”

He leaves another peck on his lips and pulls back before grabbing Namjoon’s hand and enveloping it in his fingers. He loves the way it feels. Namjoon’s hand is slightly smaller than his, and when they hold hands it almost disappears as he covers it with his own.

Yoongi smiles down at him and leaves another kiss on his cheek before walking up to the study room Sooyoung had basically confiscated for their friends to study together. It feels oddly heartwarming to say they are their friends specifically, all of them, to the both of them.

He’s been slowly realizing just how much his life has changed since Namjoon came into it, and it’s not a feeling he dislikes. He’s pretty sure Jimin and Jungkook barely knew each other, but now they discuss movies together as if they’ve been friends for years. He didn’t even know who Hoseok was, and he somehow became something of a therapist to him. 

Sooyoung is the only one not talking to someone else, and she’s the first one to notice their presence. She glances at their joined hands and a half smirk appears on her face, but she doesn’t comment on it and goes back to her phone.

“Hi,” Yoongi greets the whole group, attracting Hoseok’s attention immediately as they sit down next to each other and place their hands on the table with big grins on their faces. “We have news.”

“Yes,” Hoseok whispers to himself, punching the air in excitement. “Made it.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow at Yoongi, and then his eyes fall on their hands. Jungkook does the same, and they both smile at the same time.

“Took you long enough,” Jungkook comments, resting his chin on his hand. “Better late than never.”

“What he said,” Taehyung adds, an excited expression on his face. “Now we can rest.”

Jimin just nods his head in their direction with a knowing smirk, while Seokjin fist bumps Hoseok.

“Okay, before you say anything,” Namjoon starts, letting go of Yoongi’s hand to put his arm around his shoulder, “we’re self aware.”

“Yeah, start the teasing now and get it over with. We know we’re stupid, so go ahead.”

“But that’s not fun,” Jungkook complains, rolling his eyes. “Assholes.”

Namjoon leaves a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek instead of acknowledging his words, and Hoseok squeals.

“I feel like my firstborn just graduated,” he exclaims, nudging Seokjin on his arm.

“You and your weird metaphors,” Yoongi deadpans. “You’re weird.”

“You’d better watch your mouth because you would still be hating each other without him,” Seokjin comments, immediately coming for Hoseok’s defense with a menacing smile on his lips. “So shut up.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “I mean, he’s a good listener, but like, what else did he do?”

Hoseok just shrugs, though it’s clear by his body language that he’s dying to start talking. Namjoon sighs and signals him to go ahead and say whatever he wants.

“Okay, first of all,” he starts, and everyone’s eyes are on him. “Remember when we first met at Starbucks here on campus and Namjoon sat in front of you?”

“Huh?” Yoongi cringes. “Vaguely? I think?”

“I told him to do it, and he listened and did it, even though he hated your guts. He already knew I have influence.”

“Uh —”

“Then remember how I was the one to give you the idea of a writing partner? I started the rumor you were looking for one.”

“You fucking bitch, you swore it wasn’t you —”

“Did it in the name of love,” Hoseok cuts him off with a smirk. “Then I convinced him to ask you.”

Namjoon snorts.

“Then I orchestrated every time you found yourselves alone.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin chimes in. “I was basically in his hands. He kept ordering me around.”

The rest of them nod, and Sooyoung rolls her eyes.

“Remember that guy who talked to you in the hallway about the fact everyone was excited about you two working together? I bribed him with coffee. I mean, everyone was excited, but nobody was going to tell you directly.”

“Wait.” Realization dawns on Yoongi’s face. “So the two freshmen who spent one hour outside of our door were your doing too?”

“Oh, no.” Hoseok shakes his head. “They were nuts on their own. Immensely helped my case, though. You realized Namjoon was your only hope.”

“So every fucking time you disappeared you knew he was coming over?” Namjoon asks Hoseok.

Seokjin chuckles and he looks at him. “My fault.”

“You fucking bitch,” Namjoon mutters, imitating Yoongi’s words from earlier on.

“I’ll admit I didn’t think you two were that stubborn, and I couldn’t predict Chanyeol. At some point I stopped intruding because it was clear you were already crazy about each other, you just had to sort it out on your own.”

“Well,” Yoongi says. “I don’t know if I should thank you, or straight up strangle you.”

“I would thank him,” Namjoon chimes in with a shrug of his shoulders, and Hoseok smiles. “I don’t think I’d be here without him.”

“Fine,” Yoongi finally caves. “Thanks for manipulating my love life.”

Hoseok pretends not to hear the end of the sentence. “My pleasure.”

Namjoon leans back on his chair, still refusing to take his arm off Yoongi. “I’m glad we sorted it out before summer. Can’t wait to fuck him without homework waiting.”

Yoongi curses him out with a yell, almost making him fall out of the chair, and the rest of the table makes retching noises.

“TMI,” Jungkook says, covering his mouth with his hand.

Hoseok smiles softly, a hint of nostalgia on his face, and Jimin looks at him. Taehyung notices and raises an eyebrow, confused, then Yoongi follows suit, and he’s suddenly reminded of the way things are between the couple. Ex couple?

“Why are you two having a staring contest?” he asks, eventually.

Hoseok clears his throat. “Uh, yeah.”


Namjoon sighs and scoots closer to Yoongi to rest his head on his shoulder, but Yoongi doesn’t comment on it and just takes his hand again.

“Nothing, really.” Hoseok laughs quietly. “Just — thinking about summer makes me sad. Mostly because I’m gonna find winter when I fly back.”

The whole table starts shifting uncomfortably in their chairs, everyone thinking the same thing, but no one daring to actually say it. Jimin sighs, but he’s still sitting close to Hoseok and he doesn’t look like he wants to say anything about it.

“I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“Well, the general mood fucking dropped,” Namjoon comments, receiving bored stares in return. “What? It’s true. Mine specifically.”

“Aww.” Hoseok beams at him. Jimin shakes his head. “You’ll miss me.”

“Yeah,” he immediately admits. “Of course I’ll miss you.”

Sooyoung chuckles amusedly, though there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes too. “You have emotions, then.”

“He does,” Yoongi answers for him with a small smile. “Surprisingly.”

“Stop,” Namjoon whines, crossing his arms on his chest. “I hate you.”

Yoongi starts laughing and pokes his cheek with a finger. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“And you’re an asshole, you’re annoying, you still look like a gummy bear —”

“Some things really never change,” Jungkook comments. Namjoon glares at him.

Yoongi holds up a hand to touch his cheek again and leaves a brief kiss on his lips.





Finals reveal themselves to be surprisingly easy for Yoongi, now that he doesn’t have the ghost of Namjoon Not Liking Him Back — he thinks it deserves to be capitalized — breathing down his neck, and when graduation comes, it’s like time hasn’t even passed. 

It’s weird to think about. He’s definitely an Adult now — another thing that deserves to be capitalized — but he’s still scared shitless of what’s going to happen. Not that he doesn’t trust Namjoon to say something stupid and reveal he’s had plans for them to run away to Norway all along, but the fear is still there.

For now, his biggest concern is seeing Jimin and Hoseok exchange hushed words, and the way Sooyoung and Seokjin, being the third years they are, have basically disappeared the second the ceremony was done. 

“Are you guys gonna be okay?” he can’t help but ask when they appear next to him.

“Yeah,” Jimin says, still refusing to leave Hoseok’s side. “It’s a complicated process.”

Hoseok just nods and doesn’t say anything, and it hits him just when they wander off again that there’s no family there for either of them. For Hoseok, it’s understandable, but Jimin? 

Thankfully, his thoughts get interrupted when his mom approaches him again.

“You might want to go and save your friend from your brother.”

“What?” Yoongi glances at the same spot she’s pointing out, and the desire to groan hits him like a train. “Oh, God. Let’s go.”

“Are you the one who stole the ice cream from my brother?”

Namjoon blinks at Taehyun, who’s adamantly staring at him from the bottom up with interested eyes.

“Taehyun!” Yoongi finally exclaims as he reaches them, taking his hand with his mom trailing behind. “Leave him alone.”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” Namjoon rushes out, lowering his body to look him in the eyes. “That’s me. It was a long time ago, though.”

“Do you still hate each other?” Taehyun asks innocently. Yoongi rolls his eyes, because he knows what his brother is trying to do.

“No.” Namjoon chuckles, his gaze softening. “No, we don’t.”

“Wait, that’s him?” Yoongi’s mom asks, smiling at Namjoon.

“Yeah,” Yoongi confirms. “Actually, this is my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” She raises an eyebrow and looks at her son with a smirk. “And you’re only telling me now?”

Namjoon frowns.

Yoongi shrugs. “Well, you were coming for graduation, might as well do it in person.”

“Nice to meet you,” Namjoon says politely just as Yoongi grins at him.

Once his mom is out of ear shot and talking to Jungkook of all people, Yoongi’s brother tugs at his sleeve.

“Yeah?” Yoongi replies, holding him up from the ground to take him in his arms.

“Do I have to call him uncle or like what?”

Namjoon bursts out laughing, covering his face with his hands.

“Well, does he have to?” Yoongi addresses him, a grin on his face.

“You can call me whatever you want,” Namjoon says.

“Okay.” Taehyun frowns. “Put me down, Yoongi. I wanna stay with him.”

Yoongi feigns hurt as he lets him land on his feet, and Taehyun immediately runs away to hug Namjoon’s legs.

“Kids turn six and don’t know how to act,” Yoongi comments with a straight face, trying his hardest not to smile like an idiot while he watches Namjoon talk to his brother.

It feels familiar, and so natural it’s like he just knows they’re going to be okay. Whatever’s going to happen — they will be. Even through one of their best friends leaving, the challenge of actually being thrown in the real world outside of college, not knowing what’s in store for them. It’s going to work.

Taehyun laughs at something Yoongi doesn’t hear, so he focuses on what they’re doing. His brother is exploring all the stuff Namjoon keeps on his wrist, now a hair tie he’s learned to know all too well.

It gets him worried for a moment — he almost wants to tell Taehyun to leave him alone, but then Namjoon looks up, a smile on his face, and their eyes meet. 

It’s just a brief exchange, but somehow, Yoongi gets it.