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Triple the Profits

Chapter Text

“Thank you for you time. Once again, I am Min Yoongi and this is Jung Hoseok, co-presidents of Bighit Music Technology. We will be outside if you have any further questions on our seminar or just would like to talk to us about starting your own business. I hope to see you again soon, Seoul. Thank you.” And with that, Namjoon watched the two most beautiful men he had ever seen walk backstage.

He had come to the seminar because for once he didn’t have work and despite not actually planning, or being able, to start his own business anytime soon, it definitely couldn’t hurt to attend. So here he was, an hour and a half later, with his mind filled of information that he couldn’t possibly remember and a constant blush on his cheeks from the looks of the two men speaking.

Clearly, their business was quite successful, if their outfits were anything to go by. Their suits alone looked like they cost more than Namjoon’s rent for half a year, not to mention their gleaming watches and their scuff-free shoes. All of his possessions combined still probably didn’t add up to just one of their outfits.

He sighed, packing up his things. As intimidated as he was, he figured that talking to them couldn’t hurt, if only for the sake of shaking hands and getting his name out there. What goes around comes around, right?

As he navigated his way through the busy hallways of the auditorium, his phone rang, so he stepped against a wall to see who was calling. His landlord. He closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he answered it.


His landlord, Mr. Choi, wasn’t going to stick around for small talk apparently. “Namjoon-ssi, I have been so kind with you. You’re two months behind in rent now, and I have half a mind to empty the apartment right now!”

Namjoon’s mind filled with panic. “Mr. Choi, please! My paycheck from the restaurant comes in four days, and I swear I’ll have the full amount to you, for both months. Please, don’t do this. I can’t find another place to live on such short notice, I’m begging you!”

His voice was desperate, and unbeknownst to him, the tone had caught the attention of the two businessmen behind a table just a few feet ahead.

“Listen, you’re a good kid, alright? I get that you work hard. But I don’t make a living off of hard work, I make it off money. So no money, no apartment. I don’t know what else to tell you. I need that money in three days. I swear, by the time that clock strikes midnight, you’re out if it’s not there.”

“Just another few hours past that, please! I can’t have it to you by then, just by the next day! Mr. Choi, please. Please don’t kick me out. I can pay, I just need until Friday.” Namjoon was close to tears at this point, honestly, but he was trying to hold it together. He was in a crowded hallway, surrounded by people he didn’t know and surely if he were to introduce himself to the businessmen now, he wouldn’t make a good impression.

“No can do. Three days, that’s all you get. Have a nice day, Namjoon-ssi.” Before Namjoon could open his mouth to either grovel some more or bid his own goodbye, the line went dead. He took the phone from his ear and stared at the blank screen reflecting his own distraught face.

He was in the middle of a hallway. He couldn’t do this here, not now. He blinked back tears, taking a few moments to collect himself and take some deep breaths before he did his best attempt at literally shaking it off and walked up to the table.

He hoped that his smile wasn’t too watery as he stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Kim Namjoon. I just wanted to introduce myself. Your talk today was really, really interesting.” His voice was as professional and polite as he could make it, but still pleasantly relaxed. He was used to having a customer service voice after the amount of jobs he had worked.

The man who had made himself known as Jung Hoseok offered a bright smile and a firm handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Namjoon-ssi! That’s very kind of you, thank you. So, are you interested in starting your own business?”

If Namjoon thought that the man had a powerful aura from the stage, it was amplified a thousand times up close. He fought not to gape and make a fool of himself. “No, no. At least not anytime soon.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I’m not in any position right now. But in the future, I had always dreamed of opening up a music studio,” he admitted, thinking it sounded kind of silly saying it to these professionals that had made their living off of something so similar. He was just a college kid with a dream, not even having the time or money or resources to pursue it in the foreseeable future.

“Ah, really? Maybe we’ll meet again in the future, maybe,” Hoseok winked with a laugh. At that moment, the other businessman had just finished his conversation with someone and was turning to join in the conversation.

With one hand that came to rest on Hoseok’s waist (not that Namjoon’s eyes followed that, because it would definitely be unprofessional), Min Yoongi held out his other hand for a handshake, introducing himself.

Namjoon fought the urge to curl in on himself under the intense gazes of the two. It wasn’t that they were intimidating because they were rude or standoffish, oh no. Instead, they oozed confidence that Namjoon wished he could soak up, because they had some to spare, despite not coming across as cocky or egotistical. In comparison to them, Namjoon was really noticing his own cheaply bought Target blazer and shirt. He was just a broke college kid, and he was trying to consider why he thought it would be a good idea to talk to them anyways when he was so clearly wasting their time.

Once their business small talk was over, Namjoon bowed to them, thanking them for talking with him. He was met with Hoseok’s bright smile and Yoongi’s smaller but no less captivating one. They shook hands again, leaving Namjoon to wonder what kind of lotion they used because damn were they nice hands.

As he walked away from the table, he snuck a glance back and was met with the shocking sight of the two men closer than they needed to be, speaking in hushed tones towards each other without a care for the world continuing on around them until they both looked his way, and his eyes shot down to the floor at his feet, a blush tinting his cheeks as he made his exit.

They were so ridiculously out of his league, not to mention together, and yet all Namjoon could think about were the two men.


Namjoon hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. After the phone call from Mr. Choi, all he could think about was how he could get the money. He had spent all night brainstorming as he tossed and turned, and had come up with absolutely nothing.

He grabbed his beat up old laptop, slipping it into his bag before taking a look around to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. He had his phone, empty wallet, and laptop, but he desperately needed coffee, and he was out at the moment. So he figured he would stop at the cafe around the corner, try to do some more research on fast money or other options, and then head to class.

He locked the door behind him and started making his way down the street. Thankfully, the cafe was hardly a block and a half away. When he got inside, it was definitely bustling, as usual. He waited in line for a few minutes, his stare fixed on the wall in front of him as he stressed enough to actually feel an increase in his heart rate.

When the cashier waved him forward, he stepped up to the counter.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” the cashier asked with a friendly smile.

“Hi. Could I just get a small iced coffee, please?” he asked politely, a friendly smile on his face as he dug for his wallet. The cashier gave him the total and he put his card in the reader. He waited patiently for a second until it beeped at him. Of course. Because he couldn’t even order a coffee.

The cashier cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry, it- it says insufficient funds. Do you have another way to pay, sir?”

Namjoon’s cheeks burned hot with shame. He couldn’t cry here, not now, not in public. He could go home tonight after class and work and his internship and cry then.

“I- no. I guess not. Nevermind. Thank you, have a-”

He was cut off mid-sentence by a vaguely familiar voice. “I’ll cover him. Make it a large instead, please. And if I could get the same, and a large iced caramel latte for this one, too. And three blueberry muffins, please.”

When Namjoon had turned to protest against whoever was speaking, he was met by the blinding smile of one Jung Hoseok whose hand was intertwined with Yoongi’s as the older ordered.

“No, really, it’s okay, I-” Namjoon started, flustered and embarrassed beyond belief.

Hoseok’s smile didn’t waver. “No worries. So, you’re a coffee guy. I would’ve thought tea.” The subject change was smooth, and as much as Namjoon wanted to fight it, he was grateful, too.

Namjoon laughed awkwardly. “Yeah. I mean, I like tea, I just need more caffeine than that, you know?”

“Sure, sure. Hey, while we’re at it, why don’t you join us for a bit? Unless you’re on your way somewhere or something.”

Marketing opportunities and the prospect of building connections flew through his head. It definitely wasn’t about how good they looked in slightly more casual clothes. “I’ve got class, but I’ve got a little bit of time before that.” They looked around for a second before settling on two loveseats facing each other around a table.

When Namjoon sat down in one, he was expecting the other two to sit opposite him, but Yoongi chose the seat next to him while Hoseok took the other couch.

“So, what are you still doing in town? I thought you would’ve been off to another conference or something by now,” Namjoon started, a polite smile on his face as he tried to make conversation.

Yoongi chuckled. “Well, not quite. We actually live here in Seoul, but we’re over in Gangnam so we’re not in this part of town that often. We have another meeting over here in a few hours and we heard the coffee here’s good, so we stopped by.”

Of course they lived in Gangnam. Where else would they live? Only for a second, Namjoon allowed himself to daydream about living in such a lavish part of town, not having to worry about being months behind on rent. But that wasn’t his

“Clearly, you’re a student here, then, right? Do you live on campus?” Hoseok wondered. Namjoon shook his head.

“Living on campus is really expensive, and since I’m a junior they don’t have a place for me there anyways. I actually live just a couple blocks that way.” Namjoon jutted his thumb over his shoulder vaguely, hoping that they wouldn’t catch on to which area he exactly lived in. When they shared a quick glance with each other though, his cheeks flushed in shame and he knew they understood exactly where he meant.

Hoseok held back a gasp, but his voice still came out concerned. “That’s no place for a student!” He debated on his next words, trying not to offend the boy, but he was never one for holding back his true feelings on things. “Surely, your parents would want you in a… safer place, yes?”

Both men watched as Namjoon’s shoulders slumped, just a fraction, despite trying to keep his composure in front of them. His eyes were downcast as he spoke. “They um, they don’t support me anymore. My dad wanted me to work in his shop, but I wanted to come here and study. They thought I had a perfectly good future back home, so they’re not funding me being here. And my aunt is sick, so I’m trying to help with her medical bills,” Namjoon explained, voice small and shaky.

He didn’t look up when he heard them both take a small, surprised intake of breath. He swallowed down the shame and the ever-present hurt that still hadn’t dissipated after two and a half years here. He was used to the pitying reactions when he did tell someone. The thing he wasn’t expecting, however, was the firm hand that came to rest on his shoulder.

Yoongi’s voice was steady and sure, everything that Namjoon’s wasn’t. “I’m sorry, Namjoon-ssi, that must be really tough.” Just as fast as the hand appeared, it was gone. Namjoon was too distracted by it to notice that he had remembered his name from the night before. “So, you’re working then? Where do you work?”

Namjoon cleared his throat and blinked out of his daze. “Yes. Well, I’m a full time student, but I’m also working at a restaurant just down the street here, a clothing shop at the mall, and an unpaid internship at an insurance company.”

Both men blinked in surprise. “Wow, that’s a lot. I mean, I’m not sure I could do that, that’s really impressive,” Hoseok praised. Namjoon wanted to preen. These guys had obviously worked their asses off to get to where they are today, so to hear that he was doing well and to have his hard work acknowledged by them of all people was really an outstanding feeling.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Jung-nim. You must have worked much harder to be as successful as you are,” Namjoon deferred, despite wanting to roll in the first praise he had gotten in so long.

“It was a different kind of working hard. Surely, yours is much more admirable. And please, we’re your hyungs, you can call us as such.”

At that moment, the drinks were called, and Yoongi stood before the other two could to grab them, ever the gentleman.

Hoseok hesitated for only a second before speaking his mind. “You know, for the record, I think it really sucks that you clearly overwork yourself this much and you’re still living there. And then there’s people like Yoongi and I who didn’t even have to… I mean, God, we have so much money that we don’t know what to do with.” Namjoon thought it was getting a little deep before breakfast, but he didn’t stop the older. “I wish there were a way for us to even the playing tables.”

“Well, yes, it’s hard.” Namjoon paused to thank Yoongi as he brought back their drinks and muffins. “But the thing is, if everyone were rich, no one would be rich at all. It would all just be mediocre, right? It’s unfair, but the only thing we can do is try to share and give what we’re able to, however much that may be.”

Yoongi hummed in agreement as he sat down, then attempted to lighten the mood. “What, like buying someone a coffee?”

This earned the most genuine smile he had seen yet from the student. “Exactly like that. Thank you again, hyung. That was very kind of you.”

Hoseok intervened with a tinkling laugh that Namjoon was drawn to instantly. “It was just a coffee, Namjoon-ah, it was nothing.” Namjoon tilted his head, confused. He tried to focus on what Hoseok meant, about the coffee being cheap, not that their meeting was insignificant. Because if he let himself go down that road, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the present moment with them before it ended.

“It wasn’t nothing. I wouldn’t have been able to get it myself. You saved a college student from a caffeine free day! I am forever in your debt,” Namjoon joked, trying to shove down the feeling of inadequacy over not being able to afford a small coffee.

“I wonder how you can pay it off,” Yoongi pondered, amused.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind an internship,” Namjoon kidded. As he said it though, the amused looks dropped off the others’ faces. He quickly tried to amend. “I’m sorry! I went a little too far and crossed a line. Please, forget I said anything.”

Yoongi shushed him absentmindedly, waving him off as he was seemingly having an intense telepathic conversation with Hoseok, who gave an almost undetectable nod. He turned to speak to Namjoon, who was sitting with his head bowed.

“You said yours was unpaid, right?” Hoseok cautioned, eyes darting around the younger’s face to catch every reaction possible. At the slight, confused nod he continued. “You didn’t overstep any lines at all, Namjoon-ah. Last night you said you wanted to open a music studio, right? And your current internship is at an insurance company?”

“Yes, but at least it’s something to put on my resume still. It’s good experience, especially since I probably will never be able to open that studio anyways,” Namjoon explained, saddened by the reality of it.

“Okay, but what if you… were to get an internship in your field?” Yoongi prodded gently. “Like at, oh, I don’t know- Bighit?”

“I mean, that would be amazing, obviously. I’ve applied before, but it’s so competitive that I wasn’t really surprised when I didn’t get a call back.”

“Wait, you knew about our company? You applied?” Hoseok asked, puzzled at how their subordinates had not deemed his (probably outstanding) application good enough.

“I did, yeah. Everyone knows about you in the music field, it’s not really a surprise.”

Yoongi tries to get back on track. “How much would you like to be paid, Namjoon-ah?”

Namjoon gaped at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. For what?”

“For your new internship. At Bighit.”

Namjoon choked on his coffee. “Excuse me?”

“Turn in an application and you’re all set. You’ve got a position if you want it.” Yoongi’s voice was steady, and his gaze unflinching.

“But why?!”

“You’re working yourself to the bone for even the chance of doing what you’ve always dreamed of. And from what I’ve heard, it’s at the cost of the support of your family. That shows drive, dedication, and the sacrifices you’re willing to make to get where you want to be and prove yourself. What more could I want in an employee?” Yoongi’s voice sounded so sure, like he had had so long to think this through and mull it over, making a pros and cons list. But Namjoon was starting to realize that that was just who he was.

“But you don’t… even know about my work history, about my experience in the field, about anything that actually matters,” Namjoon babbled, then realized he was sounding like he didn’t actually want the internship, which he did. “Not that it’s not the most amazing opportunity I’ve ever come across but I just don’t understand.”

Hoseok intervened, his voice all warmth and openness. “You have to start somewhere, right? Besides, you’ll be an intern, not the president. Just think about it, okay? That’s all we ask.”

Namjoon gulped, then nodded firmly, mind made up. “I don’t have to think about it, it’s a yes. Of course it’s a yes.” His face fell almost immediately, though. “I just… I’m not sure when I can start it. My internship at the insurance company doesn’t end for a while.”

Hoseok hummed in acknowledgement, finger tapping his chin as he thought. “I mean, is it… is it too much to ask you to quit that one? Bighit is in your field, it’s paid, and we would try to be as undemanding and understanding of your schedule as possible.”

Namjoon debated. The points did make sense, and frankly he hated that internship. It was good experience, as a lot of things are, but Bighit would be more impressive and certainly more interesting. And from what he’s seen, the bosses aren’t dicks like at his current place.

“I would have to give my two week notice, but if you’ll have me, if the offer stands by then, I would love to take you up on this.” Now that he had come to a decision, Namjoon’s voice was hardly containing the excitement he felt.

Smiles spread across the faces of all three men. Hoseok’s was bright and warm, easily portraying the excitement he felt. Yoongi’s was calm, assuring Namjoon that he was confident that he had made the right choice. But Namjoon’s was tentatively excited. He was shy and a bit unbelieving at the opportunity dropped in his lap, but nevertheless, this was the best thing to happen to him in years.

“Here’s my card, you can call or email us if you have any questions at all,” Yoongi offered, gesturing for Hoseok to do the same. “I’m honestly looking forward to you being on our team, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon pocketed the outstretched cards. “I’m honestly looking forward to being on your team, hyungs.”

“Do you have a phone number we can contact you at about the internship?” Hoseok asked, to which Namjoon nodded, then proceeded to read it out as both men programmed it into their phones. “You can just text one of us when your two week notice is approved, okay?”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” he assured them with a grin on his face. Things were starting to look up.

Chapter Text

Things were not looking up. Two days later and Namjoon was no closer to finding any rent money. At this point he was panicking. He was working at the American style diner, but he kept handing out food wrong and failing to do his job. He’d already broken multiple dishes and had run into people more than once.

When he shattered a glass in front of his manager for the fourth time halfway through his eight hour shift, he was pulled aside.

“Namjoon-ah, this is ridiculous. You need to go home, it’s not working out for you right now. Go home, get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” The middle aged woman that ran the restaurant was a wonderful manager, but she didn’t often let him go home early unless there was an extraneous circumstance.

Hours, days, weeks worth of stress all came to the surface at once in the form of a lump in his throat and eyes that were definitely not becoming glassy. “Please, manager-nim, I need the money, don’t send me home, please. I’ll stay more focused, I promise!”

“That’s what you said the last two times. Besides, you’ve accumulated enough vacation and sick days to not come in for a month. I’ll throw in some of those for you. Go home, Namjoon-ah. You need to sort out whatever’s going on in that never-stopping brain of yours,” the manager requested, giving him a pat on the shoulder before walking past him into the kitchen. He stood there in the hallway for a few seconds, blinking back tears and sucking in some deep breaths before he spun on his heel to go drop off his apron and clock out.

A few minutes later, he was headed home, headphones in his ears playing music that tried, unsuccessfully, to coax him into a more relaxed state. The sight ahead of him, however, made his jaw drop as he pulled out an earphone.

His belongings were on the street, haphazardly stacked and piled on top of each other. The apartment was furnished when he moved in, so there wasn’t really any furniture, but his clothes, books, and personal belongings were thrown seemingly into whatever various and mismatched boxes, bags, and containers that Mr. Choi could find around the building.

He instructed his feet to move but it took a while until they followed the command, running into the building.

He banged his fist on the door of Mr. Choi’s office, his mind reeling and refusing to believe that he was actually kicked out.

The owner opened the door with a sigh. “Namjoon-ssi, is this really necessary? I warned you what would happen if you didn’t pay the rent, and you didn’t. Your actions have consequences and I can’t just let you stay here rent free. You need to leave before you disturb the paying tenants.”

“Where am I supposed to go! Mr. Choi, please, I get paid in less than a day. Please!” His voice was desperate and watery, but it had no effect on the man in front of him who just stood with his arms crossed.

“Please don’t make a scene. Where you go from here is not my problem. Someone is moving into your apartment in two days, and they were more than willing to pay the new, higher price. Good luck on wherever you’re headed.” With that, the door slammed in Namjoon’s face that finally had tears streaking down it.

He was homeless. He didn’t think that Mr. Choi would be cold hearted enough to actually kick him out mere hours before he could pay the rent. He didn’t know where to go, where he could put the small amount of things he owned.

His feet dragged him out of the apartment building, because Mr. Choi was right. All of the people that deserved to live there, were functioning members of society that could afford to pay their rent, were being disturbed by him. He knew that the longer he stayed there and the bigger scene he caused, the people would become more annoyed by him, maybe even calling security or reporting him as a nuisance to the police. He couldn’t afford that.

So, leaving his pride crumbled in the building lobby, he walked towards the pile of his things numbly. He couldn’t carry it all, not even close, so as much as it broke his heart, he threw a box with some clothes in the nearby dumpster, as well as a couple other bags of random knick knacks or household items. Then, with what he could carry, he made his pitiful way towards a youth hostel that he knew of a few miles away. It would be a long walk even without all his belongings, and it was a bit past midnight now, but he didn’t know what else to do.

With his headphones back in, he soaked in the city. It was a weeknight, so even though he was close to campus, there wasn’t the chatter, lights, or noise from any of the parties that went on on the weekends. He passed someone walking their dog, and a late night jogger, but the streets were practically deserted, even of cars. Like this, under the moon and stars he couldn’t see because of the light pollution, he allowed himself to cry.

He let it all out. All of the agony he felt over not having an actual home in years. All of the pain of not being able to take a breath, take a break and go out with friends. All of the resentment towards his family not supporting him. All of the exhaustion from too many hours spent working with little or no sleep. All of it.

Then, suddenly, the street wasn’t empty and a car was pulling up alongside him. A very nice car that didn’t belong in this part of town. Thinking it was probably someone asking for directions, he lifted his head and pulled out his headphones, but was shocked to see who was sitting in the luxury seats.

Hoseok’s voice was timid, clearly worried for the answer. “Namjoon-ah? What are you doing out this late? With suitcases?”

Of course this would happen right now. They would see how truly broke he was, and with the tears that he was trying to stop and wipe away, how broken he was, too.

He sniffed, proudly wiping the tears from his face as best as he could, shame burning hot on his skin as he stood tall with his shoulders back.

“I got kicked out of my apartment,” he stated factually, staring straight ahead. The only giveaway of his inner turmoil was the crack on the last word.

“Get in,” Yoongi ordered immediately from the driver’s seat.

“No, the hostel is only a little ways further.” He wanted to accept the help, he really did, but he had to make a good impression on his future bosses. He couldn’t be like this in front of them. “But thank you for your offer.”

“That wasn’t a question, Namjoon-ah. Get in the car, we’re taking you home.”

Namjoon’s dam broke again, but this time there was someone to witness it. The only two people he truly cared about seeing it. “Did you not hear what I just said? I got kicked out, hyungs! There’s nowhere for me to go. So, no, you can’t drop me off at home. I don’t have one, anymore. Have a nice night.”

He gathered himself again, choking on a sob, as he turned away from the car and continued walking. The car, however, trailed next to him.

This time it was Hoseok that spoke up, and his voice had a softer edge than Yoongi’s. “We didn’t mean to that shitty apartment you left. We meant to our place. Please, let us do this for you?”

Namjoon’s head reeled. He couldn’t possibly accept that. Not to mention, it’s probably a company violation or something, and he sure as hell didn’t want to mess up his chances at that internship more than he already had tonight. “I couldn’t. Thank you, but I’ll see you in two weeks.” Thankfully, it was dark and he was turned away, so they probably couldn’t see the way his eyes were screwed shut in determination to not cave and accept the offer.

“Two weeks is a long time in a hostel and a lot of money. At least for tonight, hey? Come on, Joon-ah. Get in the car.” It was the nickname that put him over the edge. No one but his family ever called him that and it had been years since they were comfortable enough around each other for such warm niceties.

Namjoon’s voice was hardly a whisper. “I… thank you, hyungs. Thank you. If you’re sure.”


Wordlessly, Yoongi hopped out of the driver’s seat, the car already in park with flashers on, and opened the trunk on his way to grab the younger’s things.

“Is this all you have?” he asked softly, eyes not wavering from the other’s as he picked up half of what Namjoon was carrying. When the younger hesitated before nodding, Yoongi noticed. “Where’s the rest of it?”

Namjoon’s voice was shaky once again, his hand trembling as he pointed over his shoulder. “I couldn’t carry it, so I had to leave it by the dumpster at…” He paused. It wasn’t his home anymore. “the apartment building.”

Yoongi let a hiss of air out in between his teeth. “We’ll go back and get it, okay? Come on.” He put a reassuring hand on the younger’s shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze before turning away and filling the trunk. In the process, he handed a blanket that had been on the car floor to Namjoon. “Here. You really need more than a t-shirt on right now. It’s freezing.”

Namjoon accepted the blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. Being warm, wrapped up in a big, plush blanket was giving him more comfort than he wanted to admit. He was embarrassed at how easily he accepted the help, but being taken care of like this, even if it surely didn’t mean anything to the other two men, was more than enough to soothe his nerves even just a little bit. Yoongi set the rest of his things in the trunk, then shut it and moved to open the door for Namjoon. As he settled in his seat, pulling the seatbelt on, Yoongi’s hand stayed firm on his shoulder.

As the car turned around, Namjoon fought the weights pulling his eyelids down. He directed them to his old building, but when he went to unbuckle and get out to grab his things, Hoseok reached back and put a hand on his knee.

Hoseok’s voice came from the front seat, caring and gentle. “Yoongi hyung will get it for you, you need to get warm. Make yourself comfortable, okay? If you fall asleep, it’s okay, we’ll wake you up when we get home.” Namjoon nodded, not having it in him to protest, pulling the blanket tighter around him as his eyes already began drifting shut. The lull of the engine and the heater had him off to sleep in hardly a minute.





As Namjoon was roused by the car turning off, he lifted his head and blinked, trying to get the fuzzies out of his eyes so he could orient himself. The other two were talking, and he tried to make out what they were saying.

Yoongi’s voice was soft when speaking to his lover. “You take him inside and I’ll bring his stuff up, okay? I love you, I’ll be in in a minute.” Namjoon’s eyes immediately closed again when he saw Yoongi lean over the center console for a soft kiss from Hoseok, who nodded and returned the sentiment. Then they were both out of the car, but this time it was Hoseok who opened the door of the backseat.

“Namjoon-ah? We’re here, you gotta wake up now.” When Namjoon couldn’t do anything but blink up at him, Hoseok fought back the urge to coo. “Come on, up you get.”

Namjoon realized he was being quite rude. They were bringing him into their home for no reason other than they wanted to do this out of the goodness of their hearts. Yoongi dug his things out a dumpster for god’s sake and here he was ignoring them trying to get him out of the car.

He fumbled around to fling off his seatbelt and practically fell out of the car in his haste to turn around and fold the blanket back up. He bowed hastily at a confused Hoseok who was still holding the door open.

“There’s no rush, don’t worry. You can just leave the blanket there, we never fold it. Yoongi hyung is gonna get your stuff, let’s go upstairs.” At his words, Namjoon realized they were in a parking garage. And practically every car in it was ridiculously expensive, including the couple’s own Palisade. He gulped, feeling out of place amongst all the wealth already, even though there wasn’t anyone besides them down here.

Gingerly following behind Hoseok, he felt awkward not helping Yoongi carry anything, even though when he tried the older had shooed him away and insisted he could do it himself. They took the elevator up to what Namjoon noticed was the top floor, and he held his breath, daring to imagine what the top floor normally meant. And he was right. Hoseok entered a code in the keypad, because they had a penthouse and the elevator opened up to an entryway.

Namjoon was expecting modern decor and decorations that you couldn’t touch in fear of having to pay thousands if you broke them. And yes, the apartment was modern, but it was more homely than he was picturing. Instead of stark whites, it was soft whites and warm browns. There were expensive decorations, sure, but there were also car keys and jackets and water bottles strung around everywhere. Very Gangnam in some senses, but also very Yoongi, very Hoseok, too.

Hoseok gave him a brief tour around the place, pointing out the two bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen, dining room, office, and living room. After they were finished, Hoseok opened one of the doors. “This is yours. As I said, Yoongi and I are just across the hall if you need anything don’t hesitate to call us. You’re welcome to anything in here, and if you want to shower anything there is fair game, too. Is there anything else I can get you tonight?”

When Namjoon shook his head, he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Hoseok hyung, I… I don’t know how to thank you. This is- I mean, this is the nicest thing someone’s done for me in years, and I’m so grateful. I really am.” He tried to not let his voice waver too much, but it was a useless effort.

Hoseok’s eyes were caring. “Can I hug you, Namjoon-ah? Is that okay?” Namjoon nodded before he could second guess himself and he practically melted into the older’s open arms. It had been so long since he had been held like this, and Hoseok wasn’t letting go. He was letting Namjoon decide when he was done, allowing him to take what he needed. So even though Namjoon felt selfish, he tried his best to turn his brain off for just a second and accept what he was being given for longer than was probably socially acceptable.

When he got the willpower to pull away and look up at the other’s face, he found nothing but gentleness and acceptance. There was no trace of judgement or disgust that indicated he took too much from someone he hardly knew. He was okay.

The moment was broken by Yoongi from the foyer. “Hoseokie, Namjoon-ah, I’m back! I got the last of it.” When he rounded the corner, arms full of everything that Namjoon owned, his eyes softened at the sight before him.

“I’ll just set this down in your room, Namjoon-ah,” he stated, disappearing for a second through the doorway but reappearing only a moment later. “Did you eat dinner? I know it’s pretty late, but you shouldn’t go to bed on an empty stomach.”

Little did Yoongi know that Namjoon hadn’t been able to eat anything since a small breakfast the morning prior. “No, but it’s okay. I’ll stop and get something on the way to work tomorrow morning,” he lied, knowing he wouldn’t be able to afford it once again.

Yoongi had to stop himself from scoffing. “Nonsense. Come on, I’m sure we have something, and then we can get you into bed.”

Namjoon tried to ignore the warm fuzzy feeling that he got from those words. He didn’t know how long it had been since someone had made sure he was eating and getting a good night’s rest. That being said, it would have been hard for him to do anything but quietly follow the couple into the kitchen.

He tried to help, he really did. But Yoongi wouldn’t let him do anything except sit at the counter and watch as he sipped a glass of water that Hoseok had set in front of him. That meant that he had a front row seat to how they had such a beautiful dance in the kitchen, never in each other’s way or missing a beat. It was something so simple, but his heart yearned for someone who would know him like they knew each other.

The trio made light and easy small talk as Yoongi tossed the stir fry and Hoseok set up the plates. There was nothing too important shared, and yet every word that Namjoon spoke, the others hung onto as if they had never heard anything like it before.

Yoongi set a wonderfully smelling plate down in front of Namjoon just as the clock struck two with a slight smile and an encouragement to eat up. He bowed his head in thanks and picked up the chopsticks.

Namjoon tried not to think too much about when the last time someone made him a meal was. Especially one that was homecooked with no obligation to do so. He would’ve appreciated takeout just as much, honestly, but… there was something about the effort and care that they had put into his meal, especially at such a late hour when they weren’t having any themselves. It had become abundantly clear to him that these men were such good people. It wasn’t for the sake of public appearance or reputation; they were helping him out just because they wanted to, because they knew no one else was going to and they didn’t want him hurting, despite him still practically being a stranger.

Once he had come to that realisation, it was relatively easy enough for him to lay down in the guest bedroom that night. They were not helping him out of obligation or pity, but because of the size of their hearts. He could accept what they were giving him like this.

He didn’t have any other choice.