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pat through the dark

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it’s raining. a soft pitter patter in the background as yoongi works, his paper days late, as bitterly finished as the coffee cups littered around the perimeter of his desk. there’s a bright pink post-it note perched on the top right corner of his laptop’s screen reminding him that he has to eat, and yoongi did, a few, few hours ago.

he checks over all his sources one last time, darkness engulfing him in the quiet of his apartment. the laptop’s screen is painfully bright, yoongi’s eyes burning but he can’t blame the laptop alone. he hasn’t slept for more than three hours a night this last week, brain just running and running and running. the cumulative end of final’s week operates like a choke hold on yoongi’s chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until yoongi breathes only when namjoon reminds him. in. out. eyes on me, yoongi-hyung.

yoongi sighs, head falling back as he waits for his paper to attach to the 3am email he’s sending his prof. he’d had namjoon write the actual email out, too tired and too agitated to sound anything but miserable and a touch desperate. he doesn’t look over the words in it now.

namjoon’s sprawled out on yoongi’s bed, passed out, having forgone going back to his own apartment that night and quietly, yoongi is grateful. he hits send on the email, waits the split second for the pop-up confirmation that it’s gone through before slamming his laptop shut. yoongi runs a hand through his hair, eyeing namjoon’s prone form on the bed. half of him wants to crawl in and shove his face into the crook of namjoon’s neck but the other half feels gross and undeserving and contemplates maybe just sleeping on the couch.

yoongi gets up, stretches before heading for the couch, the hem of his hoodie rising up. his apartment’s a mess, laundry scattered around the floor, empty dishes piled up and he’s quietly thankful that this was his last paper. the term was over, and maybe tomorrow, maybe when he’d slept for some twenty hours, he’d clean up. yoongi liked cleaning up. he’d get namjoon to do the dishes though.

“hyung,” namjoon’s voice comes, slurred with sleep.

“go back to sleep,” yoongi huffs, pulling his hoodie off. he lets it drop to the floor, tugging his shirt back down.

“hyung,” namjoon says again. “come here.”

yoongi rolls his eyes, trudging over and when he’s at the edge of his bed, namjoon grabs his wrist faster than yoongi can blink, tugging him down. yoongi practically falls on top of namjoon, yelping in the process and namjoon wraps his arms around yoongi like a koala. he rolls yoongi over, half draped over yoongi and effectively pins yoongi to the bed.

“this is better,” namjoon mumbles, kisses against yoongi’s pulse point, nose buried in the curve of yoongi’s neck.

“you’re heavy,” yoongi lies, grunts because even if all he wants is to feel the press of namjoon’s body against his own, it still feels like too much.

“good,” is namjoon’s response, palm smoothing down yoongi’s side. “did you finish?”

“yeah,” yoongi replies, tentatively twisting his fingers into namjoon’s hair. it’s long again, falls into namjoon’s face all the time unless he ties it back. yoongi really likes it. “thanks...for, you know.”

namjoon only hums, the sound vibrating into yoongi’s skin and it feels like it’s living there, gentle thrum of his voice coursing through his body. yoongi scrapes his nails against namjoon’s scalp, listens to the little sigh that escapes him.

“tomorrow,” namjoon starts, breath hot against yoongi’s skin, “tomorrow i’m gonna fuck you stupid, okay?”

yoongi’s breath catches in his throat, heartbeat thundering to a stop before it remembers how to function again, as if tripping and picking itself back up again.

“that sounds nice,” yoongi says, mouth dry and throat scratchy. namjoon’s half asleep, one of his arm’s caught under yoongi’s body and it’s going to fall asleep soon, yoongi knows.

“i’m so proud of you, babe,” namjoon murmurs into his skin, presses a wet kiss to the side of yoongi’s neck and god, yoongi’s never liked endearments but he wants namjoon to call him every single one.

yoongi doesn’t know how to respond, face flushing with heat, a stressed little sound escaping him as he attempts to say thank you. namjoon just hushes him, finds yoongi’s hand and tugs it up, presses a kiss to yoongi’s wrist before tugging it over himself. yoongi, embarrassed, kisses the top of namjoon’s head and wonders not for the first time, how he ever let himself end up in a relationship.

but it’s nice. it’s nice and namjoon is warm and soft and comforting.

“go to sleep,” yoongi repeats, his exhaustion catching up to him quicker and quicker. namjoon’s taken to pressing fluttering kisses against yoongi’s neck, nose nuzzling the skin, and it feels like someone’s dumped an iron weight on his chest, overwhelming.

“i will,” namjoon says, voice hoarse and thick with sleep. yoongi’s tracing his fingers down namjoon’s neck, catches the shiver that runs through him and relishes it.

it’s so dark, moonlight slipping into yoongi’s apartment, a silvery residue, and namjoon’s blond hair catches the light prettily. yoongi listens to his heartbeat grow sluggish, the rise and fall of his back entrancing under yoongi’s hand. he falls asleep first, yoongi wrapped up by him, lulled to sleep by the ghost of namjoon’s breath against his skin.