seouldone (seouldone) wrote,
seouldone
seouldone

  • Mood:

a mid-twenty sob story

                     



pairing: namjoon/yoongi
raiting: mature because i like to swear too much, refrences to sexual activity and (mild) suicidal thoughts
summary: it's been a year and four months and min yoongi's in his lungs. Alternatively known as the story where namjoon's in love and yoongi probably is, too, he's just really bad at showing it

                                                                          a mid-twenty sob story

Kim Namjoon's 17 when he joins a company; when he learns to keep his mouth shut. He hasn't been in love, hasn't kissed anyone besides his family, and most certainly hasn't realized that the boy he'll come to love is on the other side of the door.

The boy's name is Min Yoongi, and he's 18 when he joins a company. He learns the same thing even though it takes a while to get used to. Because the first thing Namjoon knows about him is that being soft-spoken and apathetic is against his nature. Yoongi thinks he's been in love, has kissed plenty of girls and boys that left a bad taste in his mouth, and knows he already hates the boy - the leader - in front of him. What he doesn't know is that all it'll take is too many two am's awake and three months for him to fall in love.









"How am I supposed to make a verse over this beat?" Yoongi asks at two am.

They've lost count of how many nights they've been awake to see the the red two am taunting them, or to sit a room length's apart to watch the yellow-orange bleed through the window.

It's the closest thing they get to doing things together.

"A rap genius like you should be able to come up with something," Namjoon says sarcastically, throwing Yoongi's own words from their first day as trainees back in his stoic face.

"Fuck you," he says but goes to grab a pen from one of the desk drawers, anyway.

He finds one that's bitten at the cap(he wonders if it's his teeth marks or Namjoon's or some other trainee's that didn't make it) and swivels the chair so his back is facing Namjoon. He hates that when he looks at someone it's like he's saying all the things he's writing out loud. The words he writes are things he can't say to anyone besides the blank paper and maybe that's because the paper can't judge him. He doesn't really think it's bad, a little embarrassing at most, but it always feels too private - like being naked in front of strangers. He can only ever say the things he writes in rhymes and verses. He's given up on figuring out why a long time ago.

The door clicks shut and Yoongi glances over to make sure Namjoon is really gone. He ignores the extra thump of his heart when he realizes he's alone.









Namjoon doesn't sleep - can't. He lays in bed, trying not to focus too hard because if he does he'll feel the wariness of his bones and the way he sways like he's on a boat. He hears Yoongi's breathing, the occasional intake of air, and tries to match it with his own. It usually doesn't work and he sucks in breath when Yoongi breathes it out. The cold of the metal penetrates his pajamas even though he's sleeping with three blankets. The dark takes shape in the form of tricks of the eye and Namjoon flips over so he's on his stomach. It's not the most comfortable but it's easier for him to shield his face deep in the pillow; to wonder how painful it really is to suffocate. The thought only lasts for a second until it's beat down by a hand that looks suspiciously like Yoongi's, but Namjoon could be wrong.

He ends up falling asleep three hours before he has to wake up.



"You look like shit," Yoongi says in the morning, hair sticking up and dried drool on his lips.

"Right back at you." Namjoon makes himself a cup of coffee and forgoes the cream and sugar. He needs all the caffeine he can get.

He watches Yoongi make his own cup and pour three packs of fake sugar into it - thinks amusedly that his stage name fits him so well even though he's nowhere close to being sweet. He sits down on th chair across from him and they both look away. Yoongi instead goes for the cracks in the tabletop and Namjoon for the dirty dishes piled in the sink. It's a shame that they're both too prideful to give up on asking the other to do the dishes and just go do it themselves, but Namjoon thinks that's the reason they're going to make it.

"Can't you do the dishes?" Namjoon motions with his free hand to the sink.

"No, you do it."  It's not like Namjoon expected anything less, so instead of getting angry he just goes back to trying to trick his body into believing he slept for eight hours instead of three.

It's not working.




Namjoon's three months shy of 18 and Yoongi's still only 18 when they get another member. Jung Hoseok's the same age as Namjoon when he joins a company. He learns the same thing but is better at it than either of them. He hasn't been in love with anyone other than his family, hasn't kissed any girls but plenty of boys, and knows that he'll get along with Namjoon more than Yoongi.

Namjoon isn't anything other than happy and Yoongi's just resentful.



"You're a pretty good dancer, hyung," Namjoon says when he and Hoseok are alone in the practice room.

And he is, Namjoon can tell from the way his body moves like a flowing river. A way that to Namjoon and Yoongi looks painful.

"Thanks!" His voice brightens up the dimly lit room and Namjoon almost thinks the sweat under his armpits is worth it as long as Hoseok gets to debut. The stage name J-hope suits him too well.

"We'll have to drag Yoongi hyung in here so you can help him," Namjoon says as he leans back on his outstretched arms. He hears Hoseok chuckle and copies his position, shoulder's touching just the slightest. Namjoon can sense the hesitation on Hoseok from the distance between their bodies and is about to tell him to just ask, but then Hoseok starts talking.

"He seems really grumpy." Namjoon expected a heavy question or some long thought-out observation, not something so obvious.

"He is," he answers.

"How long has it been just the two of you?" Namjoon wants to say it's felt like years and drawn out minutes; that with each tick of the clock three days passed and that they've watched too many sunsets together to still be angry at one another. Except he knows that's not true.

"A few months," he says honestly. He knows because he's kept a calendar under his mattress, slashing out the days in red until him and Yoongi become something akin to friends.

"And you guys aren't friends yet? Are still-" cold, strangers, uncongenial - "competitive?"

Competitive isn't a bad thing to be, Namjoon wants to say. He thinks that if there's a word that sums up him and Yoongi it's combative. Whatever Namjoon says Yoongi dismisses and vice versa. Beats Yoongi spends nights working on Namjoon deems unusable; verses Namjoon writes in scribbles and crumpled papers gets ripped apart by Yoongi, and so on and so forth. Everything is a challenge to them and Namjoon doesn't know how long it's been that way or when it started, just knows that the end isn't in sight.

"I don't think he likes me that much." It's the first time Namjoon's ever admitted it to himself and it hurts just as much as he thought it would.

What Namjoon and Hoseok don't know is that someone's been lingering against the shut door, pretending not to listen. Pretending that the words Hoseok says doesn't hit him in the gut and that it doesn't feel like loosing his breath when he realizes they're true. He especially doesn't acknowledge the pressure in his throat when Namjoon says that he thinks he hates him.

Because god, he doesn't. He's just bad at loving people.




Yoongi's never been good at telling people what he feels. The only time he can compress his emotions into words is when he's spitting them through a microphone. He's still that ten year old boy who bullies his crushes in a diluted way of affection. He thinks he's always been that way. Half of it is Namjoon's own fault for not understanding him, because who the fuck doesn't try to talk to someone when all they do is ignore and fight with you? He knows the answer, knows that Namjoon doesn't like confrontation, and if he was ready to put all the blame where it belongs he'd tell himself that. But he's not and it's half Namjoon's fault.

Fuck Kim Namjoon and his pretty eyes.



Namjoon's 18 then 19 and Yoongi's 19 then 20 when they get the final four members. (Namjoon likes to call them the fantastic four whenever he's in a good enough mood) (which means that they still laugh at the joke). They learn the same thing and follow the rules and notice the wall between the two foremost members. They all ask at one point or another and if they're lucky enough to be asking Namjoon he'll just smile halfheartedly and tell them some bullshit lie about them being friends. Yoongi answers differently, all biting words and sarcasm and we're fine.

No one knows about the calendar under Namjoon's bed or the one in the trashcan or the fact that it's been a year  and that Namjoon's still counting the days until he has to stop marking them.



It's cold and Namjoon's sweater isn't nearly enough protection and it's - he looks down at his phone - four in the morning. He doesn't know why he let himself follow Yoongi out onto the rooftop of their building, especially when Yoongi hasn't spared him a glance in the ten minutes they've been outside. He thinks it has something to do with the way he can't even breath properly when Yoongi's around. Namjoon looks down at the blinking lights of fellow insomniacs and wonders if that would be him in a different life. A different life where he wasn't Rap Monster but just Kim Namjoon; where he was just a him, not a them. He hates how sometimes he wishes he was no one at all. He chalks it up to resentment more than anything else, blames it on the bags under his eyes and the voices coming out of his mouth that he doesn't recognize.

He doesn't realize he's walking closer to the edge until the tip of the shoes he's wearing(he hadn't bothered to figure out which shoes belonged to who in his haste to get out the door) knocks into the concrete ledge. His hands stuff themselves into his pajama pockets and he cants his body a little forward so he can see what it would look like if he was about to jump. It would be a dark thought to anyone else but to Namjoon it's just another passing curiosity. Like when you look at a candle and wonder if it tastes like what it smells like, which usually turns out to be not alike at all. Sometimes he has half a mind to tell someone about the darker things that fester in his thoughts but then he gets so consumed with debut bullshit that it's a struggle just to get out of bed in the morning. So he hasn't.

"What are you looking at?" Yoongi's voice is rough from underuse and clashes harshly with the wind.

Namjoon just shrugs even though he knows Yoongi isn't looking at him. "Nothing."

Yoongi's scoff is comforting, like coming home to your own bed after you've been away for a week, and Namjoon tries to tell himself that's stupid because he and Yoongi aren't even close to friends. "You've been staring at the street with a stupid ass expression for the last three minutes, you must be thinking something."

Namjoon opens his mouth to answer but closes it when he remembers that Yoongi isn't the type of person he says these things to; that Yoongi isn't a sympathetic person in general. That he never will be. When he looks to his left he can faintly see the outline of Yoongi's body, his hands in his pockets and back slouched. He also notices the way he's staring up at the sky, into the stars. Namjoon looks to, remembers a time years ago when he used to wish upon the first star he saw. They started out ordinary - a toy everyone in his class had, the girl he had a crush on to like him back - but as the years passed and he grew to understand that wishing didn't do anything but break your heart, they got more unique - to become a famous underground rapper, for the boy he had a crush on to like him back, to make enough money to make his mom's tears worth it. Most of him knew that they weren't going to come true, that the stars he wished on were too far away to touch, but tiny parts of him wanted - needed - to believe. Because if he didn't believe in the unexplainable, if he didn't believe that the world worked in mysterious ways, then how was he supposed to believe in the lies he told himself? How was he supposed to keep breathing?

"They're pretty," Namjoon says eventually. It's cold enough that his words turn visible in the form of translucent smog and that the wind starts leaking through his fleece pants. He bounces on his left foot then switches to his right while he waits for Yoongi to say something. Anything.

Anything's better than the silence he's lived in for the past year.

"I used to wish on them," Yoongi says while he lifts his head up to the sky. Namjoon doesn't know what time it is but  guesses it must be past midnight by the way the sky's turned inky black. It makes the stars look more brilliant, like little teeth smiling down at two boys who are made up of all the things they can't say.

"Me too," Namjoon whispers.

They stay like that, what might as well be a world away, until Namjoon's fingers go numb in his pockets and Yoongi's throat hurts when he sucks in air.








"You writing that song you're putting on the album?"  Namjoon asks months later.

Months where they've debuted and won awards and made names for themselves. Bangtan Boys.

Yoongi has earphones over his ears but Namjoon knows he can hear him.

"Maybe."

Namjoon rolls his eyes and takes a seat on the other chair, swiveling back and forth while he waits for Yoongi to get annoyed. That's the only thing he takes solace in; that he knows Yoongi like the back of his hand even if he doesn't want him to. Yoongi pulls the earphones down so they hang around his neck and grabs one of the armrests. Namjoon just grins.

"If you're here to annoy me get the fuck out," Yoongi spits, eyes slit and mouth curled in something like a scowl.

"I want to see what you've done so far." Namjoon doesn't match Yoongi's tone and instead just leans back and lifts his eyebrows in expectation.

"No," he swivels back around so he's facing the open word document and pulls the earphones back into place.

"I'm not leaving."

The elder doesn't answer and Namjoon thinks it's okay. A few minutes of waiting is insignificant when it comes to the years Namjoon's spent waiting for the shoes to drop. The only light in the room comes from the computer and it makes Yoongi's eyelashes seem longer than they are. Namjoon should be embarrassed that he notices but he isn't. The bass and swing that comes from the earphones are soft, like a whisper, and Namjoon's  two seconds away from pressing his head against Yoongi's to listen with him when suddenly Yoongi's chair is being spun so he can be face-to-face with Namjoon.

"Fine, here," and then he's shoving the earphones onto Namjoon's head and clicking the mouse.

The first notes are classical, almost, and Namjoon's about to ask what the hell this is supposed to be when something heavier and rougher takes over. The rest of the instrumental goes on the same way except for what Namjoon assumes will be the chorus. It's slower and - sad? - and it makes Namjoon shiver even without words. When it's over he sits, shell-shocked, until Yoongi plucks the earphones away.

"There, happy?" Namjoon only nods.


"Did you write any lyrics yet?" Yoongi scoffs, and if Namjoon was anything other than in love with him he would have chastised him for disrespecting the leader. But he isn't.


It's been a year and four months and Min Yoongi's in his lungs.




Namjoon doesn't mind drinking, he just doesn't think it's responsible when they have to go to work in the morning - which is everyday, so Namjoon doesn't drink anymore. But tonight was a special occasion, Hoseok managed to convince him, and that's how he finds himself in the arms of a stranger in the bathroom of some club the three eldest had agreed on. Seokjin said he didn't like drinking in general when Yoongi and Hoseok bugged him about joining, opting to stay with the three younger instead. (Namjoon wonders what the other's have that he doesn't, or what he has that the others don't, that makes Yoongi act normal around them but not him.) (It's been a year and six months and Namjoon wonders how much weight a heart can handle before it collapses in on itself.)

Namjoon blames the alcohol for the way he can't understand anything other than the feeling of hands on his body and a tongue in his mouth. He lets the stranger take control of the kiss, lets himself go pliant in strong arms even though he's never one to be submissive when it comes to these types of things. It's just that he has this ache in the bottom of his stomach, this need to be taken apart and put back together in a completely different way that eats at every muscle in his body. Maybe he thinks he can be rearranged in a way that won't leave any room for Min Yoongi.

He gets shoved onto the toilet lid and hisses when his elbow knocks into the flusher. He registers the pain and the heat in his cheeks and then before he can take off his own shirt because it's too fucking hot in the stall they crammed themselves into he feels a wet mouth around his dick. A moan escapes his throat before he can stop it and then he's tugging at the red-brown hair of the guy on his knees. He hasn't gotten head in too long, he muses while he feels playful little nips at his tip. Namjoon knows he's fucked if anyone recognizes who he is, especially the man sucking him off right now, but it's just a faint gnawing at the back of his brain by this point.

When he's  close to coming the door swings open and before Namjoon can try to hide his face Yoongi's staring  at him. His eyes go to the guy on his knees but they're back on Namjoon's flush face in a flash. If Namjoon wasn't drunk and if Yoongi wasn't either he could have almost mistaken the glint in his eyes for anguish instead of apathy. But they both are and the guy on his knees is, too, and looking into Yoongi's eyes is what Namjoon thinks drowning is like.

(When Namjoon wakes up to his heartbeat thumping in his head and something like the taste of guilt on his tongue he decides he'll never let Hoseok talk him into anything ever again.)




Sometimes Namjoon just gets so tired of Yoongi and the things he does to him  that he can't stand to even hear his voice. It's like every word out of his mouth is taunting, telling him all the things he can't have without even saying anything of the sorts. Sometimes Namjoon just wants to punch him in the mouth, but mostly he just wants to kiss him. He wants to push Yoongi up against the mirrored wall of their practice room and refill the air in Yoongi's lungs with his own, so that whenever he breaths he'll be reminded of him. That they won't ever breath separately. It's kind of creepy, Namjoon knows, but he still can't help wanting it. In the dark when he should be sleeping, in the shower when he muffles his groans in his hand, when he's smoking in the alleyway at two in the morning instead of in the studio with Yoongi and his other best friend  named Silence. Silence might as well be the Yoongi Namjoon's always known.

"You and Yoongi aren't....." Seokjin leaves it open-ended and with a flick of his wrist.

"No."

The yes he wants to say burns in the back of his throat.

"Oh." That's all he says before he gets called over for his turn with the stylist. They're backstage for some music show Namjoon doesn't remember the name of and his eyes are red-rimmed from the hour of sleep he got beforehand. He wishes he could say he was up doing leader things and getting shit done, but the truth is that he was arguing with Yoongi the whole time. At first it was over words that didn't rhyme, then beats that sounded "too poppy", and finally it all came to a head over the topic of leadership. It wasn't a secret that Yoongi always resented Namjoon for being the leader instead of him (Namjoon likes to tell himself that's the reason Yoongi doesn't even look at him for long periods of time), that he always thought he got over-shined by Kim fucking Namjoon. Namjoon would always stand up for himself whenever Yoongi brought it up(which was often), would always yell back that it wasn't his fault he was chosen to be the leader and that everyone happened to notice him instead of the other two rappers. It hurt because never had Namjoon believed that Yoongi or Hoseok were under him - he always held them to the same heights as himself - but Yoongi was never content with that. Hoseok was, would always side with Namjoon whenever the argument was brought up around him. It was just Yoongi, who could never fucking let it go, and Namjoon had to tell himself he could cry when he got back to the dorms but definitely not in front of Min Yoongi.  He would never live that down.

(He doesn't want to see Yoongi's lack of concern in a way that will make him face it.)








It's a few weeks after they've come back from America when Yoongi comes home piss drunk. He's stumbling into the hallway and kicking his shoes off in the middle of the doorway and making way too much noise for three in the morning. Luckily Namjoon has been up for the past hour, flipping through shitty pre-morning television, and is able to catch him by the armpits before he crashes to the floor. He places him on the couch and goes to get a glass of water. He notices the time and curses at their early schedule before padding back to Yoongi's side. He places the cup down and is about to sit back on the floor when he notices the space under Yoongi's right eye. It's darker than the shadows covering his face and when Namjoon places his fingers tenderly against it Yoongi hisses and recoils.

"What the fuck happened?" Namjoon keeps it quiet but still manages to sound angry.

Yoongi doesn't say anything, just turns in an attempt to shake Namjoon's grip on his jaw. He doesn't let go, though, just pulls harder so Yoongi's forced to sit upright. The light from the TV lands just right against Yoongi's pale skin which gives Namjoon an unobstructed view of the bruise. It's purple in the middle but black around the edges, like it's a few hours old.

"What the fuck happened, Yoongi?" Namjoon asks again, less harsh, and moves Yoongi's legs so he can sit on the couch in front of him.

"A fight with some underground kid who thinks he knows shit," Yoongi hisses. He sounds so angry but at the same time Namjoon can hear the desperation underneath. It sounds like he's exasperated and tired. Just like himself.

"You can't do that shit," Namjoon says instead of what he wants to. He wants to say that he understands, that he feels the same, that they can be friends.


Yoongi's still drunk and Namjoon's still hopelessly in love a year and eight months later.

"Namjoonie, stay here," Yoongi pleads when Namjoon gets up to move back to his own room.

Namjoon's heart skips a beat at the nickname he's never heard come from Yoongi's mouth(and he's dreamed about this a million and one times, so he pinches himself under the shirt just to make sure he's awake). Even though he knows this won't mean anything in the morning and that Yoongi probably will be gone when he wakes up, Namjoon decides for once to go with his heart instead of his gut and pushes Yoongi over so he's lying by his side. His back is pressed into Yoongi's front and he ignores the way the arms around his stomach feels like shackles.

(He knows the only reason Yoongi's like this is because he's drunk and maybe he lost the fight, but he likes to think it might be because he's the only one Yoongi looks for.)

He knows it's convenience, that if it was Jimin or Hoseok or anyone else awake at three in the morning they would be up against Yoongi just like he is now. He tries to pretend that doesn't bother him.





"Have you heard Yoongi hyung's song that's gonna be on the album?" Jimin asks, moving his head so it's leaning on Namjoon's stomach.

"He finished it?" He asks instead of answering.

"Last night, I think." His cheek presses into Namjoon's lack of abs when he turns to look up at him.

Namjoon hums in mock surprise even if he isn't. He knows Yoongi's been working non-stop on the song; knows that Jimin's been bringing down cold dinner for him and that he's been watching sunsets alone. It's almost like Yoongi thinks the song is his prodigy, that his name will be synonymous with it. Namjoon hopes it is.

"It's good?" Namjoon gently pulls at the strands of his hair, albeit absentmindedly.

"Yeah," he nods his head and it makes Namjoon's stomach flutter, "it's sweet but, I don't know, kind of sad?"

From what he heard in the studio a few months back Namjoon wouldn't expect anything less. He just wonders what Yoongi wrote to go along with it. He wonders if he'll finally be able to figure Min Yoongi out when he listens. He wonders if it'll be about him.

(but he knows that Yoongi's lyrics are like conversations to someone - not about them - and he and Yoongi haven't had a real conversation in so long.)




By the time Yoongi's song is fnished and they're three weeks away from releasing their second album, Namjoon's stopped counting the days in his calender. He's even thrown it away, because Namjoon's just so tired; tired of trying with Yoongi but getting nothing in return, tired of small talk that doesn't mean anything, tired of looking at Yoongi in the dark and knowing he won't look back. It hurts like steeping on a bee and those rare moments when it's just the two of them in the dorm he wants to grab his shoulders and tell him how much he's fucking him up. He wants to shake Yoongi into opening up, but mostly he wants to shake the parts that love Yoongi out of himself(which is them all, so maybe that won't work). He wonders if Yoongi notices, if he looks at him and sees the things he can't say swimming in his irises, or if he doesn't care at all. That, to Namjoon, is even worse than being ignored.

For some reason or another Namjoon's the only one who ends up in the studio with Yoongi. Yoongi doesn't look surprised, just looks away from Namjoon when he sees it's only him and opens the audio file. Namjoon sits on the same chair from when he first heard the instrumentals and watches Yoongi click the mouse a few times before unplugging the earphones from the computer.

"Just, don't say anything till you hear it all, alright?" Yoongi asks and it sounds serious, more serious than anything Yoongi's said to him before, so he just nods.
He wonders what it is - Namjoon almost laughs out loud when he realizes maybe it's a diss track about him. He wouldn't put it past Yoongi.

The same classical music he heard before fills the small room and Namjoon leans back in the chair. He taps his fingers against the armrest and stares at a space above Yoongi's head while he waits for the lyrics to start. Which doesn't take long, not after the rougher instrumental comes in, and Namjoon understands why Yoongi told him not to say anything.

The song ends a few repeated lyrics later and Yoongi doesn't even click it off, just lets it fade away into the still silence of the studio. Half of Namjoon wants to tell him it was good - because it was - but the other half wants to cry and ask him who it's about. Really, he could play it off as needing to know since he's the leader and shit, but he doesn't trust his voice enough  not to betray him, so he doesn't say anything at all. He hears Yoongi fumbling around on his side of the room and doesn't notice the wetness on his jawbone until Yoongi does.

"What's wrong?" It's so nervous, so shaky and unsure, that Namjoon could swear it's someone else inside his favorite body.

"Nothing," Namjoon lies, wiping his hands across his face to try and erase the evidence of what Min Yoongi loving someone else does to him.

"Did you like the song?"

Namjoon knows Yoongi must feel the hesitation in the air but he doesn't say anything, only gnaws on his lip like he needs Namjoon's approval. Which is funny considering all the times Yoongi's written his own verses over Namjoon's, or when he's made it known that he doesn't give a shit about the younger's opinion.

"Yeah," he inhales, wills his voice to not betray him now - not when this is all that Namjoon's ever wanted - "who's it about?"

Yoongi's scoff is like a punch to Namjoon's gut and he's about to storm right out of the office - Yoongi's feelings be damned -  when Yoongi says "you, dumbass."








Namjoon thinks that if there's anything better than having actual conversations with Yoongi it's kissing him. He tastes like coffee and lemon and stale breath, but Namjoon usually calls it home. Whenever he says that Yoongi tries to hide his blush but fails and ends up kissing him hard, like he's apologizing for being so shitty at loving people; for making Namjoon so tired for no reason at all.

Namjoon forgives him every time; Yoongi's thankful.



"I'm the only person you're allowed to fuck, you know that right?" Yoongi says more than asks. He's holding Namjoon against his chest because, in Yoongi's own words, "just because I'm the one getting fucked doesn't mean I'm the girl in this relationship".

"Yeah, and you can't either," Namjoon says against the crook of his neck. His breath rebounds against the curve of Yoongi's neck and back into his nose but he doesn't mind - not when  it's been two years and Namjoon's just as in love as he was when he was seventeen.



+1
"I get jealous, and I know I've said horrible shit to you, but I think you're a pretty good leader." Namjoon and Yoongi are sitting side by side on the couch in the living room, half watching the TV and half watching each other.

"Thanks, hyung," Namjoon says with a smile.

"I'm sorry, too."

For what, Namjoon wants to say, but he knows Yoongi enough to know that he won't be able to say it. That "i'm sorry" is as much as he should ever hope to get.

Namjoon decides that if it's good enough for him it must mean he's in love.


(It's been four years.)


Tags: fandom:bangtan boys, length:5k, pairing:namjoon/yoongi, raiting:m
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 5 comments