Archive of Our Own

J-Hope’s First Solo Concert Abruptly Cancelled

Cancelled Concert Leaves Fans in Shock.  Strong Criticism Rises Against SJ Agency for Disaster.

SJ Agency Schedules Press Conference

[BREAKING] SJ Agency Announces They Cannot Contact Suga

Superstar Rapper Suga Declared Missing!

Police Officially Open Investigation on the Disappearance of Min Yoongi

Dashcam Footage Reveals Hooded Figures Forcefully Taking Suga

BREAKING!!  Superstar Suga Kidnapped!  See Footage HERE!!

Fans Stunned at Kidnapping of Famous Rapper

Global Attention on Korea after Superstar Min Yoongi Revealed to have been Kidnapped

Angry at Lack of Police Action, Fans Beg Korean Citizens to Check Dashcams for a White Van, License Plate 38 4104

Police Investigation Reveals Abandoned Van, No Further Leads

Police Face Harsh Criticism as Suga Kidnapping Investigation Stalls

One Week Since His Kidnapping, Fans Still Refuse to Give Up Hope for the Return of Suga

...

Nearly Three Months and No Leads Later, Fans of the Superstar Suga are Beginning to Lose Hope for his Safe Return.

i.

What’s true is this: if Namjoon knew for certain that he could get another part-time job elsewhere, he would quit working at the mailroom in a heartbeat.

It’s not like the job is awful.  No, the coworkers are great and the pay is fine and sure, his boss isn’t the best but honestly, it’s not unbearable.  Rather, his issue was the work itself.  It’s just so utterly dull, day in and day out.

Most days.

Looking at the mysterious package lying in the center of the floor, Namjoon could only wish that this was a dull day.

“And why did you let him drop off the package with us, again?” he asks, pinching his nose as he looks at Taehyung, his coworker.

“I told you, the delivery guy bullied me-”

Namjoon narrows his eyes.  “Bullied?  More like bribed, don’t think I didn’t see that exchange at the end.”

Without even blinking, Taehyung slides a crumpled bill into Namjoon’s pocket.  “Bullied me into letting him drop it off here.  Said this was the last stop of the week and that he didn’t want to have to drive all the way back to headquarters, especially since there’s no address on the box so it’s not like they could do anything with it anyways…”

Namjoon’s eye twitches.  “Okay, so you let him drop it off here, fine.  So how are you going to deal with it now that we have it?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?” Taehyung asks, face twisting in uncertainty.

Namjoon is going to have a fierce headache after his shift is over.

Well, the box is everyone’s problem now, Namjoon thinks, so he takes a moment to consider the situation.  “I guess…let’s see if we can find anything out about it?”

Whatever’s in the box is reeking, and Namjoon has to plug his nose as he examines it closer.

“Gross, gross, gross...” Taehyung mutters.  “You don’t think someone ordered roadkill, do you?”

Given the smell, Namjoon can’t deny the possibility.

“It’s just so weird.  What packaging service would even accept this is a mystery, there are literally no markings anywhere on it…”

“Maybe something was taped on, and fell off?”

“It’s possible, I guess…”

The box’s contents must be irregularly shaped, Namjoon thinks, judging from how the weight inside shifts when he turns it on its side.  It’s heavier than he had expected too, maybe the weight of a large dog.

“God, I’m so glad my shift ends soon, that smell is just disgusting…” Namjoon mutters.

“Only three more minutes until no-more-roadkill-smell!” Taehyung cheerfully says, before pausing.  “...Wait no, aren’t you working a double shift today, hyung?”

Three minutes later, as Namjoon watches Taehyung happily bounce away from the rancid mess that was his fault to begin with damn it, Namjoon thinks that he might hate his job.

Great.  Two more hours with the smelly box.  Wonderful.

The rush of students picking up their packages dies down as the evening wears on, and in the downtime Namjoon reflexively checks for any updates on his phone.

Nothing.  Still nothing.  Three whole months since superstar rapper Min Yoongi - stage name Suga - was kidnapped in broad daylight right outside of his own house, and there’s still nothing to show for it. 

Even though there’s been nothing for weeks now, Namjoon’s heart still sinks at the absence of updates.

At what point do I just have to accept that he’s dead?

He does his best to tune out his darker thoughts by sorting through a pile of packages.  The stench of the unmarked one gradually spreads through the room, and Namjoon is so not looking forward to seeing his boss at the end of the day.

Sure enough, his boss is Very Much Not Pleased at the situation.

“What was that boy thinking, accepting this?” he berates.  “This shouldn’t have been our responsibility!”  He turns towards Namjoon.  “You – you were there too!  Why didn’t you stop him?  This is your responsibility, Namjoon, you understand me?  Open up the package to see if there’s any packaging slips inside, and resend it properly.”  He scrunches his nose.  “Take it with you after your shift, I don’t want it stinking up the place.”

And so somehow the box becomes Namjoon’s responsibility. 

…What the fuck.

Namjoon decides that he officially had enough of his job.  He quits on the way out.

ii.

The box is just a bit too heavy for him to feel comfortable carrying by himself, so he ends up calling his friend Jimin to help him bring it back to his apartment.

“Ew, ew, ew…this smells…so gross,” Jimin complains between breaths as he helps Namjoon carry it up the stairs.

“Yeah, I know, I know, I’m so sorry, we’re almost there.”

They set the box down at the top of the stairs as Namjoon fumbles through his keys.

“I still can’t believe you straight-up went and just quit like that,” Jimin says.  “Tae’s really going to miss you.”

“Tae can suck it up, this entire mess is his fault,” Namjoon says, dryly.  “But honestly, I still have the income from being a TA, so it’s not the end of the world.  Don’t forget about the project due Friday, by the way.”

Jimin makes a face.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, mom.”

“How much do you have left?”  Namjoon asks, propping open the door.

“Just have to re-record one part.  It’ll be fine, really, you don’t have to nag about it….Okay, ready?  One, two, three!”  On three, the two of them lift up the box one final time, carefully navigating it through the doorway.  They set it down with a thump in the middle of the living room and take a moment to just stare at it.

“I sure hope you have something that can get rid of the smell.  What do you think is even in that thing?” Jimin asks.

“No idea.  Want to help me find out?”

Jimin looks at him like he’s crazy.  “…Oh, hell no.”

“Aww, you aren’t curious at all?” Namjoon pouts.

Namjoon can see Jimin start to waver.  He pouts harder.  “Okay, maybe a little,” Jimin folds, and Namjoon perks up.  Jimin narrows his eyes at him, but he doesn’t leave and Namjoon chalks it up as a victory.

The smell gets a thousand times stronger after the box is opened.  “Oh god, this was a mistake, I think I might barf,” Jimin says, holding his arm over his nose.

Namjoon steels himself as he looks inside, but all he can see is packing peanuts. 

“Ugh.  Do we actually have to shift through this?” Jimin complains.  “I swear, this is the least exciting adult version of a sandbox…”

Namjoon carefully reaches in and brushes the top couple of layers of packing peanuts to the side.

“Oh, I think I see something!  Hang on,” Jimin says, grabbing another handful of the peanuts, revealing –

Revealing –

“N – Namjoon!”

It’s a hand.

A human hand.

Jimin stumbles back and drops the styrofoam he had been holding.

Namjoon stands there in complete shock, his mind completely not processing the situation.

“It – it’s fake right?  Not real?  There’s no way-”

Think.  Think.  Process the situation and think, damnit.

Hands shaking, Namjoon forces himself to lean forward and touch the hand.

It – it feels real.  Namjoon flinches back as if burned.

“J-Jimin.  Call the police.”

Jimin is visibly panicking, and drops his phone twice before managing to steady his shaking hands enough to turn the phone on.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god – w – what should I say?  That we found a dead - ” Suddenly, Jimin screams and loses his balance.

“Namjoon!  The hand – I think it moved!”

Namjoon can’t – Namjoon can’t breathe oh god oh god oh god –

Think!

Jimin said the hand moved.  A mistake?  Muscle spasm?  Someone still alive?  Think.  What’s the next step?  Think!

“Jimin, I know this is a very scary situation to be in right now, but I need you to pull yourself together just for a couple of minutes okay?” Namjoon says, somehow managing to sound calm and collected despite his sheer internal panic. “If the person in there is still alive, it might be hard for them to breathe.  We need to get them out of there, now.”

Jimin is still shaking, but he manages to get a grip on himself.  Together, they heave the hand, revealing an arm, revealing a person – and oh god the person is in a bad shape, but Namjoon pushes down his revulsion and just focuses on one last heave, pulling the person completely out of the box before settling them on the ground. 

Namjoon looks at the person for a moment.  A man?  He must have been in the box for a while, because he’s covered in dried blood and gunk.  Namjoon forces his nausea down and grabs the man’s wrist, checks for a pulse.

“Still alive,” Namjoon says.  God, how was someone in this bad condition still alive?

He scans the man’s body briefly.  He’s thin, so thin – how long since he last ate? – and has bruises all over his body.  Beaten?  Most of the blood seems to have come from cuts on the man’s face, and as Namjoon looks at his face, he realizes that the cuts aren’t random - rather, they form letters.

Four letters, cut messily onto the man’s face. 

M-I-N-E

The letters are so jarring that it takes Namjoon several seconds to understand that this was a deliberate act of violence, that some bastard out there thought themselves so possessive of this person that they would carve it into his skin.

“Oh god,” Jimin says, sounding sick.

Namjoon reaches forward and gently shakes the man’s shoulder, some of the grime rubbing onto his hand.  “H-hello?  Sir?  Can you hear me?”

The man spasms awake at Namjoon’s touch.  He lets out a shuttering breath and begins to cough deeply. 

“W-water…” he makes out, shakily.

Jimin rushes over to the sink and quickly fills up a glass.  He hands it over to Namjoon, eyes wide.  Namjoon tries to pass the man the glass, but he weakly pushes it back.

“You – you first.”

“Huh?” Jimin asks, confused, but Namjoon thinks he might understand. 

He takes a sip from the glass.  “It’s good, nothing in it.  Straight from the tap, I promise.”

The man coughs again before trying to grab the cup.  His shaking hands are too weak to support the weight, and it almost slips to the ground before Namjoon catches it.  Namjoon helps the man hold it, and he gulps down the water in a few long sips.

The man’s eyes are unfocused, and Namjoon realizes that he’s fading again.

“You’re going to be okay, alright?  You’re going to be okay,” Namjoon tells the man.  “Jimin.  Call a hospital, now,” Namjoon says – and at that, the man flails his arm towards Namjoon, knocking the empty cup to the ground.  He ignores it, instead grabbing on Namjoon’s wrist and weakly tugging on it. 

“No!” the man rasps.  “Please no.  No hospitals, not yet, can’t yet, please no…” he coughs heavily a couple of times.

“If you don’t go to a hospital, you might die.  You need to see a doctor!”

“You can’t!  P - promise – you have to promise…n–not t-to…”  The man lets out another struggling breath before passing out again, his energy spent.

For a minute, Namjoon is still, paralyzed by the weight of the request.  Fuck!  What kind of person this close to death would refuse to go to a hospital? 

Oh god, what was he supposed to do?  Honor the man’s request – what if he died?  Bring him to a hospital anyways, and hope the request was one of confusion and not desperation?  What if bringing the man to a hospital would just put the man back into the hands of whoever had done this to him?

If I make the wrong call, I might have killed a man.

Namjoon forces himself to tune out Jimin’s babbling and his own panic and think, turning the problem over and over in his head until it’s something familiar, something solvable.

"Jimin," he says, interrupting Jimin’s panicked voice. "You have to leave."

"...Huh?"

He turns around, meeting Jimin’s wide eyes.  "You have a project to work on, right?  It's due soon.  I know it is.  Leave.  Go work on it."

"...Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Jimin says, more than just a tinge of panic in his voice.  “There is a tortured and almost dead man lying on your floor and you’re telling me to work on my homework?”

"No, listen to me.” Namjoon says, as sharply as he can.  “For some reason, this man does not want to get professional medical treatment, and I am making the call that we are going to honor that.  There is a strong chance that he is going to die tonight.  And if he dies, there will be a police investigation, possibly a very messy one in which I would take part of the blame for his death because I am making this call.  You have a good life.  It is not worth it for you to get involved in this.  It’s just not worth that risk.  Leave.”

"Oh, so it's alright for you to get involved in this, then?” Jimin accuses, his voice shaking.

Namjoon makes a broad gesture around the apartment.  His apartment.  "I'm already involved.  You don’t have to be.  Listen to me.  Please just let me handle this, Jimin."

But Jimin is already shaking his head.  "No.  No way.  I’m not about to let you deal with this alone."

Namjoon sucks in a breath.  "Jimin, if you do not leave this instant, I will fail your next project.  All your next projects.  I swear to god I will," he snaps.  Not actually possible, and both of them know it.  But it seems to strike a chord in Jimin, regardless.

“…You want me to leave that badly?” Jimin says, softly.

“Yes.”

Jimin pauses.  Considers.  "Okay. Okay then.  I'll - I'll go.  But you have to swear to me that you’ll keep me updated on what happens."

Namjoon lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.  "I will."

Jimin looks at him and nods sharply, and Namjoon watches as Jimin grabs his bags and turns to leave.  He pauses in the doorway and looks back at Namjoon.  "Thank you," Jimin says, softly, shutting the door behind him.

Okay.  That was the first step out of the way.  Prevent Jimin from getting further involved in this mess, in case it goes south.  In case the man dies, and there is an investigation. 

In case the man lives, and whoever did this to him comes back to finish the job.

Onto step two.  Collecting enough evidence for the police to catch the bastards who did this, and lock them away forever.

Namjoon bites his lip as he considers the man.  He’s been starved to the point where Namjoon could probably see every bone in his body, and is covered in filth and blood.

He remembers looking over the box, remembers turning it on its side to try and guess what's in it.  He shudders.  I didn’t know.

Namjoon closes his eyes and lets out a breath before going to the bathroom and turning on the shower.  He lets the water run for a moment as he grabs cheap disposable gloves and some bags.

Someone out there had hurt this man, and there was probably enough evidence on the man's body as to identify them.  So Namjoon carefully works on the man's hands, getting the gunk out from his fingernails and storing it into small bags.  Dabs some of the blood away, and stores the bloodied towel just in case not all of the blood is his.

He has no idea if this will help catch whoever had done this one day.  But whoever had done this to the man was a monster, and it’s worth a couple of minutes to take the time to try.

Namjoon works as quickly as he can, mindful of the man’s poor condition.  It takes longer than Namjoon would have preferred before he’s satisfied with the amount of evidence that he's collected.  He looks for a moment at the bags that he collected before peeling off his gloves and sealing them into one last bag.

Finally, step two was done.

And then at last, step three.  The most important step.  Not letting the man die.

He takes a deep breath and picks up the man.  It’s alarming to see how light he is, though it still takes Namjoon moment to shift his weight around to be manageable.  Carefully, he carries the man into the bathroom, wincing as he accidentally bangs the man's foot into the doorway.  He gently brings the two of them into the shower, propping the man against the shower wall as the water hits the two of them.  He winces again at the color the water is turning as it runs off of the man.

He starts with the man’s arms, gently cleaning them under the spray.  Progress is frustratingly slow, but ever so slowly they start to look human again.  His arms are so thin that Namjoon can’t help but wonder how he’s still alive.

He steadies the man for a moment, making sure he won't tip over before leaving the shower.  His own clothes are fully soaked, and he reflectively tries to squeeze some of the water out from his shirt before giving up on it.  As quickly as he can manage, he heads to the kitchen and grabs some scissors before heading back to the bathroom.

Slowly, methodically, Namjoon cuts the man’s filthy clothes and peels them off of him.  He cleans the gunk underneath off of him as clinically as he can.  The hot water is starting to waver by the end.

The man’s hair has grown long, and the gunk has matted awkwardly.  Namjoon gets the gunk out where he can, cuts the chunks where it’s too matted to salvage.

And finally, there's nothing left but the man's face.

Namjoon had been putting this off as long as he could.  Didn't want to have to think about the deliberate cuts on the man's face, the possessive letters that makes him feel sick to even think about.

He grabs a fresh washcloth and gently blots off what he can.  The cuts are at least a week old, he thinks, and they were definitely not cared for properly.  A couple of the cuts reopen as Namjoon cleans them, and Namjoon grimaces as the new blood trips down.

The water has grown cold by the time that Namjoon is done.

Namjoon lets out a long breath and stares at the freshly cleaned man for a moment.  There’s a moment when Namjoon thinks that something about the man is – odd.  Familiar?  He blinks, forces himself to look past the fresh scars, past the bruises and the thinness and – and -

Something clicks.  And suddenly Namjoon – knows.

This isn’t any random man.

This is Min Yoongi.

International superstar Min Yoongi is a legend, demolishing record after record with his fierce music.  International superstar Min Yoongi  has made every headline out there with the news of his disappearance.  International superstar Min Yoongi has the eyes of the world searching desperately for him, waiting for any news of what had happened to him.

International superstar Min Yoongi is currently passed out naked in Namjoon’s shower, very nearly dead. 

He’s alive.

Namjoon physically reels back at the realization.

This is going to get very very messy, very very fast.

The sheer amount of people around the globe that are searching desperately for Yoongi, paying attention to any scrap of news on his case...there is no way this is going to end quietly.  Namjoon can imagine the press at his doorstep, the people hounding him for information.  People thanking him, worshiping him as a hero.  People accusing him of doing this to Yoongi himself.

The panic that Namjoon had been bottling away comes back in full force. 

He steadies himself on the wall of the shower as the icy water thunders down on his back.

He forces himself to breathe steadily.  In, out, in, out.

Focus.  He can freak out later.  Yoongi needs his help now.

He turns off the water and grabs a couple of fresh towels.  Dries himself off, puts on clean clothes, looks back at the man in the shower as if that would change anything.

It's still Min Yoongi.

His mind whirs.  Should he call someone?  A hospital?  Yoongi’s agency?  The police?

No.  He’s already made the decision to hold off, until at least the man is awake enough to tell him why he asked for no hospitals.  The logic behind that decision made sense, he shouldn’t change his decision just because the man happens to be Min Yoongi.

And holy fucking shit.  The man is Min Yoongi.

If I made the wrong call, it’s going to be my fault that Min Yoongi dies.

Namjoon closes his eyes and lets out a curse.

He grabs one of the towels and dabs Yoongi dry, then carefully ragdolls him into an old bathrobe.  He picks up Yoongi and with a bit of effort moves him into his bedroom, places him on his bed and tucks him underneath as many blankets as he can find in his apartment.  Some of the cuts on Yoongi’s face are still bleeding, so he grabs a spare shirt and places it between Yoongi's head and the pillow.

Yoongi.  Min Yoongi.  You can’t think about that yet.

The wounds on Yoongi’s face look…in pretty bad shape, Namjoon thinks.  So he starts with those.  He looks online to see if there’s anything that can help the wounds heal better, writes down a list of products that might help, checks to see where he can buy them nearby.

Namjoon hates leaving the apartment, but it’s just too important to do this now while there’s still a chance of helping the wounds heal properly.  

The entire trip feels like a dream.  It’s almost as if there’s someone else controlling his body, someone else taking the bus to the local pharmacy and picking out various creams, someone else smiling to the bored cashier as if everything is alright.  Min Yoongi is alive.  Min Yoongi is in my apartment.

The sharp smell from the box brings Namjoon back to reality like a slap when he gets back home.  He covers his nose as he grabs the creams from the bag, heads back to his room.

Min Yoongi is still lying there.

Namjoon leans down and tries to wake him, but Yoongi only blearily opens his eyes, mumbles something inaudible, and passes out again.  That’s…probably not good, Namjoon thinks, but at least Yoongi’s temperature is normal and he’s breathing steadily.

Gently, he opens the bottles, spreads the gels over the wounds.  It only takes a couple minutes, and when he’s done, he stands back and stares.

Min Yoongi.  Min Yoongi is currently lying there, alive.  Alive and on Namjoon's bed, quietly breathing in and out.

Namjoon sets a timer on his phone for five minutes, and allows himself to freak out a little.

He can remember the exact minute he found out that Suga went missing.  He had been watching some old movie on his laptop when Jimin had called him, distressed, telling him to check the news.

Jimin didn't even have to specify where to check the news, because the story was everywhere: SJ Agency declares Min Yoongi missing.

The internet was in an uproar.  Mainly in confusion, at first.  Was this just some kind of misunderstanding?  A prank gone wrong, some variety show in poor taste?  But as the hours continued, SJ Agency maintained their assessment, and the public’s confusion began to morph into shock.  How could someone so big just…disappear?

The rumors began in full force after that, and most of them placed the blame on Yoongi himself.  Yoongi was obviously trying to sabotage J-Hope’s budding career, didn’t you know that they cancelled his first solo concert as a result of his disappearance?  No, it’s obvious Suga killed himself, he’s been open about his personal struggles before in his music, you know.  No, no, he wouldn’t have done that.  Obviously Suga ran away, madly in love or tired of fame or perhaps wanting to escape army service… 

The rumors were both endless and endlessly vicious, and the not knowing was the worst part.

But then, a two long days later, the police investigation revealed a new video.  Yoongi walking out of his apartment.  A couple of shadowy figures mobbing him.  Yoongi struggling against them, yelling before being knocked out.  Yoongi being dragged, unconscious, into a white van.  The white van speeding off, leaving without a trace.

The internet was in an uproar, that day.

Namjoon remembers feeling like he had been punched in the gut.  Remembers how hollow he had felt, like a ghost in his own body.  Remembers Jimin and Taehyung trying to comfort him while looking like they were trying not to cry themselves.

Don't worry.  The police are on the case.  The police will find him.

Except it had been three months since then, and the police hadn't.  Three months and there was nobody in the world that knew where Min Yoongi was, if he was even alive.

Nobody until now.

It still doesn't feel real.

The timer goes off, and Namjoon forces himself to move, to go and clean up the place. 

Cleaning up the apartment takes Namjoon a good amount of time, and he still can’t quite get rid of the smell.  He stuffs the evidence he’d collected and the box into a closet, hoping that would help with the stench.  It doesn’t, not really, so Namjoon stuffs a couple towels in the cracks along the closet’s doors and cracks open a couple of windows to air out the place.  The air outside is frosty, and Namjoon grimaces.

He’s utterly exhausted, but he still forces himself to cut up some fruit and pour some juice.  Yoongi is still out cold when Namjoon gets to his room, so he places everything on the nightstand.

He takes a minute to just watch Yoongi.  I might be the only person on the planet right now that knows Min Yoongi is alive, he thinks. 

What happened to Min Yoongi, these last couple of months?  What monsters had done this to him?  Transformed him from the supernova he was into this weak husk of a man?  How did he get here?  Had he escaped from whoever had kidnapped him?  Were his captors playing a game, letting him feel the hope of freedom only to capture him again?

He watches as the blankets steadily rise and fall with Yoongi’s breath.

Namjoon fears that if he blinks, the illusion will shatter.

He can't bring himself to leave the room again, so he settles down at his desk instead.  He hesitates before sending a quick text to Jimin, simply saying the man was alive and sleeping, not revealing his identity.

If this was going to be messy – and Namjoon knew it would be, now that he knew it wasn’t just any man but Min fucking Yoongi, what the fuck – the less Jimin was involved, the better.

He grabs the book he would normally read before going to bed and tries to read a couple of pages before coming to the rather obvious conclusion that he hasn’t absorbed a single word.  Sighing, he sets down the book and leans back in the chair, mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts.

Before he knows it, Namjoon drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

iii.

He wakes up to hands wrapped around his neck.

"You have five seconds to tell me what exactly is going on here.”

Namjoon is awake in an instant.

He tries to answer, but the grip around his neck is too tight.  Mercifully, the hands loosen a bit, and Namjoon coughs, tries to reorient himself.

It's Yoongi that's choking him, he realizes.  Of course.  Yoongi's eyes are wild as he looks down at Namjoon. 

"I-I'm not your enemy, Suga.  Yoongi.  I'm on your side," Namjoon says gently.  As gently as someone being choked can say.  Which really isn’t gentle at all, to be honest, but at least Namjoon is trying, damn it.

"Amazing.  Death is on my side.”  Namjoon doesn’t quite understand what Yoongi means and goes with the probably safe assumption that it’s a threat.  “Who are you?  Why am I here?"

"I'm Kim Namjoon.  You're in my house.  I - I found you, in an unmarked box our workplace received.  They had told me to see what was in it, and it was - you."

Yoongi thinks through the words before nodding a couple of times.  "Okay.  Okay.”  A thought seems to strike him.  “…Am I alive?”  He asks, sounding genuinely uncertain.

“…Yes?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, and then they narrow again.  “Am I about to die?” he asks, more roughly.

“…Hopefully not?”  This is the most surreal conversation that Namjoon has ever had.

“Alive.  Wow.  Okay.  I can work with that.  You found me.  In a box.  Okay.  You cleaned me up?"

"Yeah."

Yoongi considers that.

"Uh, do you mind...?" Namjoon says, gesturing at his neck.

Yoongi makes a noise as if he had forgotten that he was half choking Namjoon, somehow, and sharply lowers his hands.  Namjoon rubs his neck a couple of times to get the circulation back.  Yoongi clears his throat.  "Sorry about - that."

"No, it's fine.  I imagine it was pretty confusing to wake up here."

Yoongi doesn't respond to that, only looking up at the ceiling, considering.  The silence stretches on, only broken by the ticking of Namjoon's clock.

Namjoon notices that Yoongi is swaying a bit.  "Hey, are you -"

His question is interrupted as Yoongi crumples.  Namjoon is only just barely able to catch his head before it hits the ground.

"Ah, shit shit shit," Namjoon curses as he struggles under the weight.  Yoongi is out cold again, and Namjoon grimaces before picking him up and gently lowering him back into his bed.

His face is covered in sweat…Alarmed, Namjoon reaches out and presses the back of his hand to Yoongi’s forehead.  It’s positively burning.

…A fever?  Fuck.

He pauses for a minute, trying to calm his own panic, before starting up a cup of coffee for himself.  Sleep was obviously not in the cards tonight.

iv.

Namjoon has never had to deal with something like this before, and he knows he’s not prepared to handle it.  Fortunately, the internet can at least slightly make up for his incompetence.

Most of Saturday he spends trying to keep Yoongi cool, switching out ice packs and periodically reapplying the creams on his scars.  He does his best to feed the unconscious man water and soups to replenish his energy.  It’s difficult –  most of the liquids end up spilling – but Namjoon isn’t about to give up, not on this.

Finally, in the early hours of Sunday, the fever begins to break.  Namjoon is exhausted, but he settles down at his desk and watches over Yoongi.

v.

It takes a couple of hours before Namjoon hears Yoongi shift.  He looks up from his book to see Yoongi staring right back at him.

"You’re safe.  I'm on your side, I'm not going to hurt you," Namjoon says quietly.

Yoongi considers that, considers Namjoon, and closes his eyes again, falling back into a deep slumber.

vi.

Namjoon must have fallen asleep at his desk for a second time, because one moment he's resting his eyes and the next, he’s waking up to a crash.  He jerks at the noise and takes a second to take in the scene.  Yoongi appears to have woken up and tried to get out of Namjoon's bed. 

Tried being the key word.

Namjoon hurries over to where Yoongi is cursing on the ground.  "Careful, careful," he says as he helps Yoongi back up onto the bed.  Yoongi groans as he flops back down, covering his eyes with an arm. "Won't be trying that again," Yoongi mutters, and Namjoon snorts.

"You have to regain your strength, you’re pretty weak right now.”

“No shit.  What day is it?”

"The fifteenth."

"...Month?"

Namjoon licks his lips.  "November.  It's been nearly three months since you were…taken."

"Not even three months?"  Yoongi closes his eyes. "Shit, it felt like a lot longer than that."

"I can imagine.” 

“Did you tell anyone that you found me?”

“No one yet.”

Yoongi’s shoulders fall in relief.  “Oh thank god.”

At that, Namjoon feels a huge weight lift off his shoulders.  That had been the right call, then.

Namjoon passes Yoongi his phone.  "Here.  If you want to contact anyone.”

Yoongi takes the phone, but makes no movement to use it.  And that’s when Namjoon notices something odd – Yoongi has been eyeing the fruit on the side table, but there’s something holding him back from eating it.

Nonchalantly, Namjoon reaches forward and grabs a piece of fruit, quickly bites into it.  “The fruit is fresh,” he says, chewing it.  “It’s good.”

Yoongi scarfs down the fruit after that.  Namjoon wonders for a moment about what had happened to him, to make him distrust food like that.  But he doesn’t ask.  “Give me a minute and I’ll make you something warm too, okay?" he says instead.

Yoongi closes his eyes and nods so Namjoon heads to the kitchen, throwing some soup in the microwave and cutting up some more fruit.  It takes a couple of minutes before it’s ready, but the apartment is quiet the entire time.

Yoongi's eyes are positively drawn to the food as Namjoon brings it in.

"You didn’t call anyone?" Namjoon says, more confused than anything else.

"The phone was locked."

"Oh," Namjoon says, feeling dumb.  "Sorry."

"It's fine."  Yoongi sets the phone onto his lap as Namjoon passes everything to him.  He eyes the soup for a moment.  "You don't have anything more solid?"

"The internet said it was good for people after a period of starvation,” Yoongi looks at him accusingly, so Namjoon backtracks.  “Uh, not that I know for sure that you were starved or anything.  But I thought you might have been, given the box and your appearance and the fainting and...and everything."

Yoongi looks at his stick-thin arms and frowns as if they’ve betrayed him.  He shifts his head side to side a bit.  "It's...probably been a while, I don’t know.”

But he’s still not eating the soup.

Namjoon tries not to pity Yoongi, fails. 

Namjoon leans forward and takes a sip of it.  “It’s a bit hot, don’t burn yourself.”

Yoongi closes his eyes.  “Thank you.”  He starts on the soup.  “You said I was ‘taken’ earlier.  Did people  know that I didn’t disappear willingly?”

“There was a video that was released.  Of the hooded figures, and the white van.”

Yoongi blinks.  “…I hadn’t even considered that there might be a video of that.”  He takes a couple sips of his soup.  “Not that it seems to have helped the police much,” he adds, sounding more empty than bitter.

“They had some leads, but the case never got anywhere…it’s been a very public case.  There’s a lot of people looking for you right now.  Globally.  ‘A lot of people’ is a bit of an understatement, really.”

Yoongi doesn’t react to that.  “Do you have a laptop?  I want to see the news about me, whatever they were able to find.”

“Ah, would you mind finishing your soup first?  I couldn’t afford a new laptop if there was a spill…” Namjoon says, trailing off awkwardly.

Yoongi looks down at the half-finished soup and bites his lip before putting it on the side table.  “I would have killed for this much food a week ago, but…I don’t think I can finish this right now.”

“Oh, the internet said that’s normal for people that have been through a period of starvation.  Your appetite will come back with time.”

“Sure, if you say so.”

Namjoon grabs his laptop from his desk and gently sits next to Yoongi on top of the covers.  Yoongi cocoons himself with blankets and shifts to get a better look.  There’s still a bunch of tabs about how to help a fever break pulled up, and Namjoon closes out of them before opening up a folder in his bookmarks named Suga Updates.

“These are the articles I’d read about it,” Namjoon says as he passes the laptop over to Yoongi.  Yoongi scrolls and scrolls through the page of bookmarks.

“I take it you had been keeping tabs on my disappearance, then?” Yoongi says dryly.

“Well, yeah.  I’ve always been a fan of yours - ”  It’s small, barely noticeable, but Yoongi definitely flinched at the word ‘fan’.  Had a fan done this to him?  The rest of the sentence dies on Namjoon’s lips – actually, you are what inspired me to get into music myself.  Namjoon swallows and tries again.  “This was such a high-profile case, not just for people that followed your work but the general public too.  It blew up internationally, even.”

Yoongi folds back in on himself a little bit.  “I…see.  That’s good, I guess.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond, so Yoongi scrolls back up to the top of the bookmarks and starts looking through them, occasionally opening up an article to skim through it.

Namjoon knows all too well what story the bookmarks are painting.  The initial news of J-Hope’s cancelled solo concert, the fan outrage and confusion.  SJ Agency announcing that they could not contact J-Hope’s labelmate and senior, Suga.  The speculations and criticisms, endless criticisms from the public. 

Then the video of Suga’s kidnapping came out, and everything changed.  What followed was an outcry from the general public, the police investigation, the search through dashcams, the hashtags…the fear that Yoongi was gone for good after the van was finally tracked but then found abandoned, with no new leads coming from it.  The viral pleas from Suga’s labelmate Jungkook for someone, anyone to come forward if they had any suspicions, no matter how small.  The fan vigils, the demand at new legislation, the anger and dwindling hope as the investigation reached dead end after dead end after dead end…

“This was really only three months?”

“Not even.  Yeah.”

Yoongi buries himself under Namjoon’s blanket.

“How am I supposed to face all of…this?” Yoongi asks, sounding small, and Namjoon honestly doesn’t have an answer.

Yoongi is silent for a couple of minutes before poking his head out of the pile of blankets.  “Do you think I could just…lay low and heal, for a bit?”

“You don’t want to contact your agency?”

Yoongi shifts a bit.  “I don’t feel strong enough to return to…everything.  Not when I’m this – this weak.”

Namjoon considers the literal millions of people clinging onto every scrap of information they can get on Yoongi’s case.  Considers what he himself felt like as a fan of Yoongi’s, up until he had realized exactly what had been in that box.

Considers Yoongi, bruised and nearly skeletal, face a mess of fresh scars.  Not even able to stand without crashing to the ground.

“It’s selfish,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi flinches and closes his eyes.  “But after everything you’ve been through, you have the right to be just a little bit selfish, I think.  You’d be welcome to rest here, gain back some strength until you are ready to face the world again.  Not forever, though, maybe just a week or two at the most.”

Yoongi’s shoulders practically slump in relief, and he nods in thanks.  He buries himself in blankets again before shifting and sticking out an arm holding Namjoon’s phone.

“You got a lot of messages.  Someone named Jimin?”

And fuckkkkk, Namjoon had totally forgot to answer his text this morning.

“He’s one of my friends.  He had helped me with the box, he knew there was a body in there.  Not that he knew it was you.  Min Yoongi, I mean.  You were kind of unrecognizable at the time…but anyways, I had told him to leave and let me handle it.  Didn’t want to get him involved, in case things got messy.”

“Unrecognizable…” Yoongi repeats, and seemingly unconsciously his hands rise to his face.  He blinks in surprise as some of the cream rubs off onto his fingers.

“Oh!  I got you some lotions for your face, to help the sca-wounds heal better, keep away any infections.  You should probably reapply them soon, actually.”

Namjoon passes over the bag, and Yoongi looks a little overwhelmed at all the creams in it.

“You need to put on the cocoa butter first, to help with the stretch marks,” Namjoon instructs.  “Then the vitamin E cream to help with inflammation.  The moisturizer last, that one is supposed to help the wounds fade, I think?  Or something like that, I can’t remember that well.  The internet said it would help, anyways.”

Yoongi nods at that, and Namjoon swallows before lowering his voice.  “Who did this to you, Yoongi?  Are they looking for you right now?”

“No.  They…they wouldn’t know I’m still alive.  That’s why not going to a hospital was important - if it had leaked to the public that I had been found, that I was alive - they would have been able to flee before the police could get them.”

Makes sense.  A thought strikes Namjoon, and he grabs a notebook from his desk, flips past a couple pages of his own scribbled lyrics until he reaches a fresh page.  He passes it over to Yoongi who looks at him, confused.

“Um.  Since you are staying here for a bit, you should…write things down, as much as you can remember about everything these last couple of months.  I know it might be hard to do so, and that this is a lot to ask right now.  But it’s important to do so as soon as you can, before the details are all muddied or lost.  The more evidence you can present to the police, to the lawyers and judges, the better your chances are at getting back at those bastards.”

Yoongi nods, and Namjoon leaves him with the notebook and his thoughts.

vii.

Having Min Yoongi in the apartment is weird, Namjoon decides an hour later.  It’s downright impossible to go about normal life when there’s the glaring fact that Namjoon’s idol – who had been freaking kidnapped - is resting one room over.  Yoongi is still all over the world’s news portals as people desperately search for him, and he is – right there.  Resting in Namjoon’s bed.  Wearing one of Namjoon’s bathrobes.  Eating the food Namjoon makes for him – well, after Namjoon has a bite first.

It feels like Namjoon is hiding a secret from the world, and he doesn’t like it all that much.  But he can understand why Yoongi would need a chance to lick his wounds before facing the media whirlwind that would come with his return.

viii.

Namjoon gives up on chores and ends up spending most of that Sunday keeping Yoongi company in his room.  Yoongi eats what he can stomach as he scribbles down everything he can remember.

It’s sundown by the time that Yoongi is done and passes Namjoon back the notebook.  Namjoon doesn’t comment, only sets it on his desk.  But then he notices how Yoongi’s eyes can’t help but be drawn to it, so he puts it inside his desk instead, where it could stay out of sight for the time being.

Yoongi borrows Namjoon’s laptop for a couple hours, just browsing the web and catching up on the news from the last couple of months.  Namjoon works at his desk on his own homework a bit, lost in thought as he tries to think of the perfect words for some new verses.

He looks up as he hears a crash.  Yoongi groans from the floor.  “Sorry,” Yoongi mutters.

Yoongi is completely unable to stand for more than a second or two, though in his stubbornness he keeps insisting on trying.  A couple crashes later and Namjoon’s had enough, sends him back into bed so that Yoongi wouldn’t damage himself further.

“How the hell did you manage to choke me when you first woke up?” Namjoon asks incredulously, looking down at a newly bruised and very much frustrated Yoongi.

“I…I think I was pure adrenaline.  I was just so, so confused as to what was happening.  Uh, I also wasn’t entirely sure if I was even still alive.”

Something clicks together.  “Hold on.  I remember – I told you I was on your side, and you said something like, ‘cool, death is on my side.’  …Did you think I was the grim reaper?”

Yoongi buries his face in his hands and Namjoon can’t help but laugh.  “You think you might be in the presence of an angel of death and your first instinct is to choke it?  You legend.”

There’s a small blush on Yoongi’s cheek.  “I might have been a bit out of it at the time.”

“No wonder you’re still alive.  Death was too afraid you’d try and kill him!”

Yoongi laughs, and there might be a tinge of something like pride in his eyes.

Namjoon bites his lip, grows more serious.  “Tomorrow is Monday, I have a couple of classes.  Do you think you’ll be okay on your own if I left out some food for you in here?”

Yoongi considers that.  “I think so.  Though I don’t suppose you have an extra laptop or something so I don’t get bored out of my mind?”

Namjoon scratches his chin.  The only other computer he has is his monitor in his studio one room over, but it’s not like he could just pick that up and move it to the bed. 

“I don’t, but I might have a friend that does.  Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll see.”

He closes the door as he steps out into the hallway, plops down onto the couch.  He’s kinda been ignoring his phone, and there’s several dozen new messages.  He decides that it’d be too much of a headache to read through them all and just calls Jimin instead.

Jimin picks up on the first ring.  “Hyung!  Oh, thank god, I was getting worried that the mystery man had killed you or something.”

“Nothing like that, sorry to worry you.  I’ve just been a bit busy over here, that’s all.”

“Yeah, no kidding.  How’s he doing?”

Namjoon bites his tongue and prepares himself.  He’s already made the decision not to involve Jimin in this mess, so he knows what he has to do.

“He was in too poor of a condition for me to care for after all.  I took him to the hospital, took all the evidence to the cops,” Namjoon lies, feeling dirty.

“Oh…” Jimin takes a moment to find the right words.  “I know that they asked not to go to one, but if the choice was between a hospital and death, I think you made the right call, Namjoon hyung.  I hope you don’t beat yourself up too much over it.”

“I won’t.  Thank you, Jimin,” Namjoon closes his eyes for a moment.  It’s what he had to do, he tells himself.  If he had told the truth, Jimin would just have been too curious, the risk would have just been too high that something slipped out…this is bigger than just Namjoon, bigger than just Jimin, now.  The less people that knew he was alive, the safer Yoongi would be.

Namjoon shakes himself out of his thoughts.  “Hey, I’ve got a question for you.  Do you have a spare laptop or something I can borrow for a while?  Mine just broke, and it’s going to be a while before it gets repaired.”

“Oh, that’s rough.  Um, I don’t have anything, but I think Tae has an old iPad he doesn’t use?”

One call to Taehyung and a short bus ride later, Namjoon has an iPad.  Of course, now that they think that his laptop is broken, he can’t just bring it to class and leave Yoongi the iPad.  Guess I'll have to take notes on a tablet for a couple of weeks, he thinks.  Not the end of the world.

It’s pretty late by the time he gets back.  He helps Yoongi change into pajamas before settling down on the couch, utterly spent.

He’s asleep within a minute.

ix.

He’s woken by some indiscernible noise coming from his bedroom.  It takes him a moment to reorient himself before he throws off his blanket and heads there.

Yoongi is shaking in his sleep.  “No…” he’s muttering.  “I’ll never be…never be…”

A nightmare, Namjoon realizes.  Of course Yoongi would be having nightmares, anyone would after going through whatever had left him in this state.  He crouches down and gently shakes Yoongi’s shoulders.  “Yoongi?  Yoongi, wake up.”

Yoongi wakes up with a startle.  His eyes are wild, darting in every which direction before settling on looking at Namjoon. 

“You looked like you were having a nightmare,” Namjoon explains.  Yoongi is covered in sweat.  Namjoon frowns, concerned, and reaches out to feel Yoongi’s forehead, but Yoongi violently jerks back.

“Sorry!  Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have thought, I’m sorry,” Namjoon says, raising his hands in the air. 

Yoongi doesn’t respond, and Namjoon’s not entirely convinced that he’s comprehending anything yet.  He slowly reaches for Yoongi’s hand, and Yoongi doesn’t flinch back this time.  He gently rubs up and down Yoongi’s arm, trying calm him, ground him in the moment.  After a couple of minutes, Yoongi’s eyes are closed, and his breath has evened out.

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond, so after a moment Namjoon stands up to leave.  He’s stopped by a pull on his sleeve, and when he looks down, Yoongi is looking at him again.

Namjoon understands, nods.  “Okay.  I’ll stay a bit longer.”

Yoongi releases his sleeve, and Namjoon goes to the other side of the bed before getting in.  Yoongi turns to face him.

“I’ll wake you up if I see you having any more nightmares, okay?” Namjoon says, and Yoongi nods slowly.

“Is – is it okay if I…?” Yoongi whispers.  Namjoon has literally no idea what Yoongi is talking about, but he nods anyways.  A moment later, Yoongi scoots closer and completely folds into Namjoon, burrowing his face into Namjoon’s chest.  Namjoon stiffens in surprise for a moment before relaxing, resting his chin on Yoongi’s head and snaking his arms around the man.  He gently rubs small circles onto Yoongi’s back, doing his best to center him.

How long has it been, since Yoongi had last had human contact with someone who didn’t want to hurt him?

“You’re not there anymore,” Namjoon murmurs.  “You survived.  You escaped.  You won.  That’s all that matters, okay?  Tell that to yourself.  That’s all that matters.  Soon, all of this is just going to be the past, nothing but old scars.  You’re going to be okay.  It might take a while to get there, but you are going to be okay.”

He keeps on talking as he massages Yoongi’s back, quietly offering small statements of comfort.  At some point Yoongi’s breathing evens as he falls back asleep.  Eventually Namjoon finds himself falling asleep too, still wrapped around Yoongi.

x.

It’s only been a single weekend since he’d last been on campus, but everything feels different.  Namjoon has no idea how to pretend everything is the same.  So, he fakes it.  Fakes being his normal, non-Min-Yoongi-is-in-my-apartment self the entire day. 

He keeps thinking someone is going to call him out on it, but no one notices.

When he gets home, Yoongi is lying on his bed on the laptop, and Namjoon pauses in the doorway to watch.

He’s watching the same video over and over, of the viral one where his label-mate Jungkook got on his knees and tearfully begs someone, anyone to come forward.  Even if it was just a suspicion, anything, anything that could help the investigation…

The video ends, and Yoongi plays it again, and again, and again.

It’s honestly kind of pathetic.

Namjoon knocks on the doorway, and Yoongi pauses the video.

“You all good?” Namjoon asks.

“Yeah.  A bit hungry, a bit bored, but otherwise fine.”

Yoongi’s stomach must have un-shrunk itself over the course of the day, because every scrap of food that Namjoon had left out for him is gone.  As Namjoon brings him some more, he frowns as he notices a couple new scrapes on Yoongi.

“You didn’t try walking more, did you?”

“It’s so boring doing nothing,” Yoongi grumbles as he eagerly takes the food.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a lot more boring doing nothing for months more if you break your legs,” Namjoon says, eating a slice of the apple.  “Give it a couple of days before you try walking again.  At least until Friday, alright?  We can see after that how you’re looking.”

Yoongi groans, but doesn’t argue.

Namjoon settles down at his desk and takes his laptop back, swapping it for Taehyung’s old iPad.  He plugs in his headphones and is just about to start playing some study music when he hears Yoongi say something.

“Hmm?” Namjoon says, pulling out his headphones and spinning the chair around.

“You have stars on the ceiling.”

Namjoon blinks, confused, and Yoongi gestures towards the ceiling.  Sure enough, there’s some old stickers there, dozens of small glow-in-the-dark stars that whoever had this room last must have stuck up there.

“Huh.  I never noticed that,” Namjoon says, looking up at them.

Yoongi snorts.  “The type of thing someone on bed rest notices, I suppose.”

Namjoon spends most of the evening grading papers.  He’s just about to leave to spend the night on the couch when he notices Yoongi seeming to struggle with himself, warring with himself over whether to say something or not.

Namjoon thinks he might know what it is.

“Do you want me to keep you company again, like last night?” he carefully asks, sparing Yoongi’s pride.

There’s a flash of something like relief on Yoongi’s face, but it’s gone so fast that Namjoon can pretend he never saw it.  “Yes.  Please.  If you – if you wouldn’t mind.”

Namjoon nods and quickly changes before slipping in on the other side of the bed.  Unlike last night, Yoongi just curls up next to Namjoon, his back just barely touching Namjoon.

“Thank you,” Yoongi murmurs quietly, and a minute later he’s fast asleep.

xi.

Turns out, regaining strength entails a lot of sleeping, a lot of eating, and a lot of bitching about having nothing to do.

Yoongi…there’s still remnants of whatever it was that he had gone through.  The way he flinches when Namjoon moves too fast, the way he still can’t bring himself to trust food until Namjoon tries it first, the way he can’t sleep or even nap without having nightmares unless Namjoon is there to ground him.  Namjoon does his best to take these things in stride, not call attention to them. 

Namjoon wonders every now and then about what it was that Yoongi had to live through.  But there’s too many shadows in Yoongi’s eyes, so Namjoon doesn’t pry.

Yoongi is…almost passive about his face, only reapplying the gels when Namjoon reminds him to.  Namjoon can almost understand that, can understand why Yoongi would want to avoid thinking about his new and possibly permanent appearance.  Namjoon thinks that Yoongi might hate him, just a little bit, each time he brings the gels up.  But Namjoon can deal with that, he thinks, so he’s vigilant, setting alarms to remind him to bring the gels up.

By Friday, Yoongi is starting to look a little better, relatively speaking, so Namjoon reluctantly allows him to start trying to stand again.  The rest must have been doing some good because despite his still poor physical condition, he’s actually able to stand, even walk if he has something to support himself with.

In the evening, Namjoon has to make a run out to the pharmacy to get more lotions for Yoongi’s face.  Yoongi is resolutely not looking at him when he gets back, and Namjoon is confused but doesn’t say anything.  Only later that night he notices that the bathroom mirror is completely shattered.

It doesn’t take that much effort to piece two and two together.

“Are your knuckles okay?” Namjoon asks Yoongi after the shards are all cleaned up.  Yoongi guiltily sticks out his right hand, still not looking at Namjoon.  There’s blood, though not as much as Namjoon had feared.  Namjoon bandages Yoongi’s hand up gently, doesn’t comment, doesn’t judge.

xii.

After that, he doesn’t have to remind Yoongi to re-apply the gels, at least.

xiii.

There was a big project due on Friday in the vocal arrangement class Namjoon TAs, so Namjoon spends most of Saturday in his little studio grading the submissions.  Namjoon is halfway through one of them when he hears the sound of heavy footsteps behind him.  He cranes his head around to see Yoongi leaning heavily on the doorway, looking at the computer.

“Home studio?”

Namjoon pauses the song.  “Yeah.  I do all my grading here, work on some of my own stuff as well.”

“Oh, cool.”  Yoongi looks around for a moment before letting out a crooked grin.  “Good taste,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the shelves where his own discography is proudly displayed.  Namjoon snorts.

“Who were you listening to just now?” Yoongi asks.  “They had a nice voice.”

Namjoon grins.  “Yeah.  That’s Jimin, one of my friends.  He was the one who was here when you – showed up, I guess you could say.  He wa-is a fan of yours too, by the way.”

There is an absolute zero chance that Yoongi missed that slip up, but he is kind enough to not comment on it.  Well, either kind enough or tired enough.

“He’s your friend?”

“Yeah.  Though I bet he wishes he didn’t know me, I grade him three times as harshly as everyone else because of it.”

“He’s going to be big one day,” Yoongi says without a shred of doubt.

And even though the praise is certainly not for him, Namjoon can’t help but beam at that.  “I know, right?  I’ve been telling him that, but he’s not quite confident in himself to believe it yet.”

Yoongi hmms at that.

“So this is a class assignment or something?”

Namjoon nods.  “I’m a TA for one of the vocal arrangement classes, there was a huge assignment due yesterday.”

Yoongi pauses for a moment.  “Is it okay if I stay in here?”

“Sure, of course.” Namjoon starts to scoot over so that Yoongi can sit next to him, but Yoongi goes to sit against a wall instead.  He stays like that as Namjoon grades the rest of the submissions, eyes closed, not commenting at all.  Just soaking in the music.

xiv.

His own next big music composition assignment isn’t due for over a week, so Namjoon decides to dust off one of his old personal projects, dedicating Sunday for it.  It’s not entirely true that it’s a surprise when Yoongi shows up in the doorway.

“You write music?” Yoongi asks, confused, as he notices the software Namjoon is using.

“…You didn’t wonder why I was TAing the vocal arrangements class?  I’m a music tech major.”

“Oh!”  Yoongi hovers for a moment, unsure what to say, so Namjoon scoots over and gestures vaguely at next the spot next to him.  “Want to listen?”

Namjoon passes Yoongi one of the earpieces as Yoongi plops down next to him.   He adjusts the volume a bit before starting the song over.  Yoongi’s eyes widen at the beat drop and Namjoon can’t help but grin in pride.

One verse in, Yoongi leans over to pause the song.  “Hang on.  Who’s the rapper?  He’s good, really good.”

Namjoon laughs.  “Thanks.  That was me, actually.”

Yoongi looks at Namjoon like he’s never seen him before.  “You rap?”

“Yeah.  There was a time where I wanted to be a professional rapper.” I wanted to be like you. “I could write raps fine but I didn’t know the first thing about producing, and I needed to be able to do it all for it to ring true, I felt.  So I decided to go to go to school, study music theory as much as I could, see if I could become someone great.”

“You don’t want to be a rapper anymore?”

Namjoon snorts.  “I’m a bit too old for most agencies to take the risk on by this point, I think.  But that’s okay!  I’d be happy just producing, honestly, and there’s a good market for that.”

Yoongi frowns at that, unsatisfied, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Namjoon spends the rest of the day working on that project, and to his delight Yoongi actually contributes some, giving suggestions and critique.  And man is it surreal, talking music with Min Yoongi, the man who inspired Namjoon to get into music himself.

Namjoon can’t quite put his finger on it, but something about Yoongi has changed after that, he thinks later that night.  There’s a fire in his eyes that just wasn’t there before.

Over the last week, Namjoon has watched as Yoongi slowly began to physically heal, but this is the first time that Namjoon’s seen him begin to heal mentally, too.

xv.

Namjoon still would prefer Yoongi not risk walking at all for at least another week or so, but one benefit of the partial mobility is that Yoongi can no longer complain about being bored after Namjoon gives him free reign over the studio computer while Namjoon attends class.

Yoongi does complain about the software Namjoon uses though, because there’s always something.  “It’s unnecessarily antiquated, designed for aesthetic over functionality, and is overwhelmingly pathetically inadequate for your talents,” Yoongi lectures him.

“It’s not that bad,” Namjoon protests, knowing full well it is that bad.  “Okay, well, it’s at least cheap,” he continues, which is admittedly more true.  “I’m a college student.  You really think I can afford the fancy programs you use up in your studio?  Look, just give it a try, I’m sure you won’t think it’s all that bad after you get more used to it.”

Yoongi mutters something about rather dying than producing with such a terrible program, but he is using it when Namjoon gets home, so there’s that.

“Well, after giving it a fair and honest try, I can say for certainty that this program is a piece of shit,” Yoongi tells him, looking disgruntled.

“You’re at least using it.  Work on anything new?”

Yoongi actually looks nervous at that, and Namjoon blinks, confused.  “No, I just kinda…tinkered around with your old stuff, just a bit.  Added a bit more flair here and there...” he trails off, not quite meeting Namjoon’s eyes.

There’s a moment where Namjoon blanks out at the disconnect.  Min Yoongi, nervous at telling Namjoon that he had touched up his music?  As if Namjoon would ever have been anything but honored.

“Holy shit, can I hear it?” Namjoon says, a bit deliberately letting his excitement leak through his voice, and Yoongi perks right up at that.

They spend deep into the night tinkering with the song a bit more in the studio, and damn if the song isn’t damn near perfect by the end of it.

(Namjoon makes the executive decision to forgo studying for a quiz he has on Tuesday, but it’s an acceptable sacrifice, he thinks.)

xvi.

(He may have a little regret on Tuesday, looking at the quiz he can barely half-answer).

xvii.

When Namjoon gets back to his apartment, he flops face down into the couch and lets out a long groan.

Yoongi pokes his head into the living room.  “Uh…you okay?” he asks, to which Namjoon groans louder.

“Uh…” Yoongi trails off.  “I’ll just be…in the studio, then.  I worked a little on another one of your songs today.”

And at that Namjoon can’t help but perk up in excitement because he is a fucking dumbass who will never learn, apparently.

They spend a couple more hours in the studio.  It’s not just one directional – Namjoon has his own thoughts on what Yoongi’s done, and there’s something exhilarating in how Yoongi actually takes him seriously, listens to what he’s saying. 

Namjoon reluctantly forces himself to stop a couple hours later to work on his own homework.  He still ends up staying up later than he’d prefer, but it’s worth it.

xviii.

When Namjoon wakes up, something is wrong.

He takes a moment to take stock of the situation.  The facts hit him one by one.  One. Yoongi’s not in bed.  Two.  It’s still dark, and it’s thundering outside.  And three.  there’s another sound besides the thunder – something is pounding on the front door.

Namjoon is awake in an instant.  He hastily gets out of bed and runs to the kitchen, turns the light on.  Yoongi whirls around from where he had been standing near the front door.  Had…had Yoongi been trying to knock it open?  Namjoon pauses, thoughts stalling.  “Yoon…gi…?”

"Who are you?  Who are you really?!"  Yoongi hisses, his eyes completely wild, dilated in panic.  He's having a panic attack, Namjoon realizes. 

Namjoon raises his hands so that Yoongi can see that they are empty. "My name is Kim Namjo - "

"Don't bullshit me! You're one of them, right? You're working with them."

"No.  I found y - "

"It's so obvious in retrospect,” Yoongi spits out.  “I should have put two and two together.  Someone just happens to find me, someone who just happens to be my fan, just happens to produce music like me?  Someone perfectly patient and perfectly kind, helping me out of the kindness of their heart, asking nothing in return?  What are the chances of that?  It's too good to be true.  You're working with them, aren't you!  Getting a hard-on for seeing poor helpless Min Yoongi, nursing him back to health, making sure he forever feels indebted to you.  You fucking psychopath!"

Namjoon is at a loss for words for a moment.  “I’m not, it’s not like that at all.  What brought this on, did you have another nightm-”

"The door!  If you’re on my side, then why is the door locked!"

Namjoon always locks the door, a habit engrained in him after four years of living in cheaper part of a college town.  It’s a normal thing to do…not that Yoongi is in a normal state of mind right now.

He had never even considered that Yoongi would react poorly to it.  Namjoon curses himself for his carelessness, of course being locked in might trigger Yoongi.

He speaks slowly, as if to a startled animal. "There's a key to your right, okay?  Right on the counter.  Do you see it?"

Yoongi turns wildly and his eyes fall on the key. He grabs it and clutches it to his chest as a drowning man would a life vest.

He stares at Namjoon accusingly for a moment before turning and scrambling to fit the key in the lock. His hands are shaking so badly that he fumbles and drops the key once, twice, three times.

"Yoongi.  Do you want me to help you open the door?" Namjoon says carefully.

"No!  No, just - stay there!"

"Okay.  Just let me know."

Yoongi fumbles and drops the key again.  "Fuck!"  He slides to the ground, a shaking heap on the floor.  Namjoon realizes that he can see tears of frustration spilling down over the cuts on Yoongi’s face.  "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Yoongi scoots to the side and points to the door. "Open it!"

"Okay." says Namjoon. "I'm going to approach you now, so that I can open the door.  I'm not going to do anything else, alright?"

"Just open it!"

Namjoon slowly walks forward, grabs the key when Yoongi slides it across the floor.  Yoongi scoots farther away from the door, and Namjoon easily unlocks it and pushes it open.  It's pouring outside, and some of the rain is getting in, but Namjoon makes no movement to shut the door again.  He leans down and slides the key back over to Yoongi before backing up again.

"You're not a prisoner here, Yoongi.  You never were.  The door was just locked for security reasons, that’s all.  To keep bad people out, not to keep you in.  I promise you that.  You can keep the key if you'd like, if it would help you to have it."

Yoongi lets out a long shuttering breath.

“My name is Kim Namjoon.  I am a university student.  I found you, remember?  I asked you if you wanted to call someone, but you decided that you needed to regain some strength first.  Do you remember that?”

Yoongi buries his face in his arms, and Namjoon gives him a minute to breathe, pull himself back together again.  Namjoon has never seen someone so completely fall apart like this, doesn't know what to do, where to look, what to say.  He ends up just awkwardly looking at the ceiling as he stands near the opposite wall.

Yoongi’s still shaking, Namjoon notices, and probably not entirely because of the panic attack.  The door is still wide open, and the foyer has become almost frigid.

“I am going to grab a blanket for you, alright?  I’ll be back in a minute,” Namjoon says, carefully narrating his actions.  He goes back to his room and grabs his thickest blanket.  Yoongi looks up sharply at Namjoon’s return, not even blinking as Namjoon tosses the blanket so that it lands near him.

“You’re shivering.  Warm yourself up a little bit, okay?  I’ll make some hot tea for you, that might help you to calm down a bit.”

The tea only takes a couple of minutes to make.  Yoongi’s wrapped himself up in the blanket and is starting to look vaguely normal again by the time Namjoon returns.  Namjoon crouches down, still well away from Yoongi.  Namjoon takes a big gulp of the tea as Yoongi watches with hawk eyes.

He winces.  “It’s still a bit hot, you might want to give it a minute.”  Carefully, he sets the tea down and backs up again.  After a couple of moments, Yoongi carefully moves to grab it, wraps his hands around the warm mug.

“Th – thank you.”

Namjoon settles down on the opposite wall.  It takes maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, but slowly, Yoongi seems to piece himself back together again. 

“Ah, fuck…” Yoongi says after the worst of it is over, exhaustedly leaning back onto the wall as he wipes away his tears with his sleeves.  “Fuck Namjoon, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s not your fault.  I’m sorry that I didn’t realize the locked door would affect you.  I should have realized that it might have.”

“You can…you can close the door, if you’d like.  I’m sorry about your heating bill.”

Internally, Namjoon winces, thinking of the mailroom job he had just quit.  “It’s okay.  You sure you’re okay closing it again?”

“Yeah.  I’ll be alright now, I think.  Th - though I think it’d help if I could hold onto one of the keys.”

Namjoon nods, walks carefully past Yoongi to the door and closes it, passes Yoongi the key after he locks it back up.  The floor is soaked from the rain, so Namjoon grabs a couple of towels from the bathroom and starts to dry it.

“Do you think I’ll ever be normal again?” Yoongi asks, ever so tiny.

Namjoon pauses, tries to put together his thoughts into something coherent.

“Nobody can live through something horrific as you did, and come out the other side unscathed, I think.  I’m not going to bullshit you and say you can be exactly the same as you were before.  But you can go on with life.  Learn how to live, how to adapt.  Though you’re going to have to be gentle with yourself, give yourself the time to recover and find a new normal.  Because no matter how many problems you think you have right now, being hard on yourself about who you’ve become will only add one more to the list.”

Yoongi closes his eyes, considering.  “God, what time is it even?” he asks after a moment, rubbing his eyes.

Namjoon glances at the clock.  “Nearly three.”

“Can you – can you help me back into bed?  I’m a bit…spent,” Yoongi asks, and Namjoon helps support him to the bedroom.  Namjoon hovers for a moment, not sure if Yoongi would want to be alone right now.  

“Stay.  Please,” Yoongi says.  “I’m sorry for accusing you like that.  None of that was fair to you.”

“It’s fine, it’s really all fine,” Namjoon says, climbing back up into bed.

Yoongi doesn’t reply to that, only curls up into himself, just barely touching Namjoon.

Namjoon spends hours staring at the stars on the ceiling before he eventually drifts off back to sleep.

xix.

When Namjoon wakes up, Yoongi is already awake.  He’s still lying down, just staring at Namjoon.  Namjoon blinks at him, confused, but Yoongi doesn’t look away.  Namjoon isn’t quite sure how to react to that, so he just remains still, looking back at Yoongi.

Namjoon has long since grown used to the letters carved onto Yoongi’s face, but he can’t help but notice them again now that he’s this close.  Without consciously thinking about it, he finds himself looking at the letters one at a time.

An M, starting on his right side, stretching harshly through the middle of his cheek.  An I, the harshest of the four letters, jutting down nearly across Yoongi’s entire face, from his eyebrow to his chin.  An N sprawling across his nose, just missing his left eye.  An E, the smallest of the four, sliced messily on his left cheek.

M-I-N-E

Yoongi is still looking at Namjoon’s eyes when Namjoon looks back to them. 

“What do you think?” Yoongi asks, sounding oh-so small.  Because of course he had noticed the pattern Namjoon’s eyes had been tracing.

“Honestly, the M, the N and the E look bad but aren’t that deep.  It might take a couple of months, but with a little bit of luck they won’t scar.”

“The I?”

Namjoon pauses.  Decides to not sugar coat it.  “The I looks pretty bad.”

“So the MINE will become an I.  My disfigurement is poetic.  Amazing.”

“There’s some good verses in there somewhere, the I-eye duality,” Namjoon jokes.

Yoongi frowns and flops onto his back before turning and looking at Namjoon again.

“Do you think I should even go back to being a rapper, after I return?  Or should I just…retire?  Take a step back from it all?”

And now that’s a conversation Namjoon never thought he would have with his idol.

“Could anything I say actually have any weight on your decision?” he asks, carefully.  He needs to know the stakes on this conversation.

Yoongi considers.  Looks steadily at him.  “Yes.”

Namjoon lets out a breath and shifts a bit, staring at the stars on the ceiling as he gathers his thoughts.

Several minutes later, he turns to face towards Yoongi.  “You were the reason I wanted to get into the music industry, did you know that?”

Yoongi mouth opens in surprise, forming a small ‘o’.  But he doesn’t say anything, so Namjoon plows on. 

“I was at a crossroads in my life.  Standing at a place where I still wanted to change the world, but starting to be hit with the reality that I couldn’t.  And then, six years ago, I stumbled on your debut song.  And I thought – finally, this is it.  This is something I could do, something unique that I could present the world.  Music.

“I watched your career for years, after that.  Watched as you gradually grew larger and larger as an underground rapper.  Watched you take the controversial plunge into mainstream music by joining a young and unknown agency being ran by an equally young and unknown CEO.  Watched you push through the criticisms and go on to build more and more momentum, becoming a household name.  Watched you break through in the West, further than any Korean artist had gone.

“When you disappeared, it felt like I was in hell.  For a couple of days, everyone on the internet was dragging your name through the mud.  Accusations that you were trying to damage J-Hope’s career, had fled to escape military service, even rumors of suicide…For those two days, you were the number one chewing toy of the internet, and it seemed like even if you came back, you would never be able to recover even a semblance of your reputation.

“I thought it couldn’t get any worse.  But two days after your disappearance, they found and released the dashcam footage, and the world learned the truth – that you had been kidnapped.  And even though the public switched to being completely on your side after that revelation, it still was a thousand, a million times worse knowing that– that whatever was happening, it wasn’t even your choice.  Knowing that you were in the hands of unknown people that could do anything they wanted to you.  Not knowing if you were alive, or dead.  As a fan, that was true hell.

“With that in mind, I want to try and say this as Kim Namjoon to Min Yoongi, not as Kim Namjoon to Suga.”

Yoongi nods, slowly. 

“You have every right to want to disappear from the public’s eye after this.  But I think if you did, you would never forgive yourself.  That – that would be like letting them win.”

“I don’t want people to support me out of pity,” Yoongi says, softly.  And that’s the core of Yoongi, isn’t it?  His pride.

“No matter what you do, you’re going to get pity,” Namjoon says flatly, not sugar coating it.  “But if you leave the music scene as a result of it, the world is only going pity you more.  If you want to not have anyone pity you, you’re going to have to work through it.  You’re going to have the eyes of the world on you, when you get back.  Possibly the biggest audience an artist has ever gotten.  You can give them a reason to respect you, a reason for people to stay beyond the pity.  It’s going to be an uphill battle, transforming something this public from ‘the thing that defines your history as an artist,’ into ‘only one thing that happened in your history as an artist.’  But I’ve seen you with your music, I’ve seen how alive you get when you’re working with it.  You can’t give that up.”

Yoongi is quiet after that, but the type of quiet that means he’s thinking through what Namjoon had said.  Namjoon keeps him company as long as he can.  

(Or at least until he realizes he’s missed his usual bus.)

xx.

Namjoon ends up running a bit late for class, but it’s not the end of the world.

When he gets back home, Yoongi doesn’t comment on their earlier conversation, so Namjoon just lets it lie, let Yoongi think through things on his own some more.

In the evening, Yoongi settles down to watch the news while Namjoon tries (key word there, tries) to make something new for dinner, some fancy new soup recipe Taehyung recommended that fills the apartment with the smell of spices.  He’s doing his best to figure out if it’s possible to cover up adding in too much pepper when his ears catch on what the news is saying.  He abandons the meal – it was doomed anyways, to be honest – and goes to join Yoongi in front of the tv.

“ – no new leads on his case.  However, today does officially mark three months to the day from when Suga was kidnapped.  Leaked reports have shown that the police have internally reclassified the global superstar’s high profile case from ‘Missing’ to ‘Missing, Presumed Dead.’ ”

The news brings on experts, listing out statistics left and right. 

“I know there will be fans that will continue to remain hopeful on the situation, and trust me, I understand the uproar that this has caused online.  That being said, this change only makes sense from a statistical perspective.  In almost all cases, three months marks the boundary between what is – statistically speaking, of course - plausible and implausible.  This is the point at which I’d advise fans to consider harboring any remaining optimism as unadvisable…Regardless, this only really affects what kinds of things the police are looking for, and how they treat any evidence they find or have already found…hopefully, now that they have made this transition, they can quickly and efficiently locate evidence as to what happened to Suga, so that the question of his fate can be wrapped up soon…”

It’s completely surreal, watching the world decide that Yoongi is probably dead when Yoongi is literally sitting right next to him.

Which…speaking of, it’s probably not that healthy for anyone to watch the world report them as ‘probably dead.’  Namjoon can’t help but glance over at Yoongi.  Yoongi is completely transfixed, staring at the tv with wide eyes.

(Naturally, the spell is broken when the failed soup sets off the fire alarm).

xxi.

On Thursday, Taehyung corners Namjoon after his last class, which isn’t even a class Taehyung is in, and man if that doesn’t set off every single one of Namjoon’s mental alarms.

“Hey, Namjoon,” Taehyung says, a bit timidly.  “I know we haven’t talked in a while.”

“My fault, I’m s- ”

“No, listen,” Taehyung barrels on.  “I just - I just wanted to check in with you.  I’ve…we’ve all noticed that you’ve been a lot quieter recently, a lot more closed off.  And you were late for class yesterday, and - and Jimin said you failed a quiz this week.  So I wanted to ask you - is everything alright?” he asks, searchingly.

Namjoon…really should have expected a conversation like this, to be honest.  He’s filled with a conflicting set of emotions, both relief and annoyance.

“I’m fine, Taehyung.  But thank you for asking,” he says.

“But are you really?  You haven’t done, well, anything after classes these last couple of weeks, and you’ve never closed yourself off from everyone like this before.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond, and Taehyung licks his lips before continuing.  “I think I know what it might be.  It’s…it’s about Suga, isn’t it?” he asks quietly, and Namjoon’s blood turns to ice.

Taehyung forges on, heedless of Namjoon’s panic.  “I was wondering what might have caused a change like that in you, and then I saw the news report yesterday, and it got me thinking.  I know how much of an inspiration he’s been for you, how much you really looked up to him.  I thought you were doing better since the initial news came out, but I should have realized how much something like that would continue to hurt you…You’re starting to think he’s dead, aren’t you?  Just like all the police are, now.”

Namjoon feels such a blinding sense of relief that he actually sways for a moment.  Of course that’s what Taehyung had meant.  Not that Taehyung had suspected Min Yoongi was hunkering down in Namjoon’s apartment.

Taehyung forges on.  “I know he was the one who inspired you to get into producing music yourself, Namjoon.  But you can’t do this to yourself, it’s not healthy to just bottle everything up…”

Taehyung…Taehyung is a good friend, and Namjoon realizes that he hasn’t appreciated him enough. 

But he still can’t reveal on the truth.  Not when Yoongi’s kidnappers are still at large, completely unaware that Yoongi is still alive.

“I…you’re right, it has been about Suga,” Namjoon says, which isn’t even a lie, technically.  “I’m…I’m sorry it’s been affecting me this badly.  Give me just a bit more time, and I’ll be back to myself, okay?”

Taehyung nods at that, accepting the explanation easily. “Yeah, of course Namjoon.  I’ll always be here if you need to talk though, alright?”

“Yeah.  I know, Taehyung.  Thank you.”

Taehyung is just about to head out when he pauses and turns around.  “Hey, there’s supposed to be snow tomorrow, did you hear?  Stay warm out there!”  Namjoon laughs and waves back.

xxii.

Yoongi is playing the piano in Namjoon’s studio when he gets back.  Namjoon keeps him company, doing his homework on the laptop while Yoongi plays some endless whimsical tune.

The evening is bitter cold, and Namjoon spends a couple of minutes trying to decide if he can afford to turn the heat up a couple degrees or not before going to bed.  Eventually, he decides that he can probably budget it, or rather probably needs to budget it since Yoongi is shivering a bit, even while bundled in one of Namjoon’s old yellow sweatshirts.

He turns off the lights and settles down in bed and Yoongi comfortably curls up next to him, a familiar warmth by his side.  He’s nearly drifted off to sleep when Yoongi says something, quietly.

"There were three of them.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to ask what Yoongi is talking about.

“There were three of them,” Yoongi repeats.  “All young, older teenagers maybe.  An older girl, the ringleader of the three.  An older male friend of hers was the second one.  He was either her boyfriend or someone madly in love with her, but either way, he beat me twice as hard because of it.  Rounding off the trio was the younger sister of the girl.

"They treated me like a king, at first.  Deluxe room, excellent food, all the comforts I could want…except freedom.  But as I continued to refuse to give the older girl what she wanted, they dropped the illusion I was anything but their prisoner.  They wanted to break me, punish me until I submitted to them.  To her."

“How - how did you get away?”

"The younger girl...she was a monster in her own right, but she wasn't as gone as her older sister.  She had been sneaking me pain medicine, at nighttime.  I carefully faked swallowing them and hid them instead, and when I had enough I took them all at once.  I think they must have thought I was dead, tried to get rid of my body.  Honestly, I should have died.  I expected to.  But…I guess that somehow, I didn't."

Namjoon's eyes widen.  "Did…did you want to die?"

"Even hell couldn't have been as bad as spending another minute in her presence."

Namjoon doesn’t know what to respond to that.  How to respond to that.  So instead, he reaches over and squeezes one of Yoongi’s hands, hoping that can convey what he’s feeling.

"What did she want?” Namjoon asks quietly.  “Money?"

"Me.  She wanted me.  She was a saesang, the worst trifecta of obsessed, psychopathic and entitled.  She wanted me to obey her.  Worship her with love, give her everything, the idol that would do anything at her command.  And I refused.  I refused to give up my pride like that.  Every day, I told her that no matter what they did to me, no matter what she said or did, that I would never be hers."

Yoongi pauses.  His breath has grown ragged, and he takes a minute to compose himself, carefully breathing in and out.  "One day she just - snapped.  And thus my face."

Namjoon feels sick.

"I think she thought that that would be the final straw to make me break.  But I never did."

“Did – did they ever…”  Namjoon trails off, not able to make himself say it.  But Yoongi still understands what he’s asking.

“No.  I think she wanted – willingly.  I refused, I always refused, and…I paid for that.  They tortured me, physically and mentally.  I  was bound up, beaten, kept awake, drugged, fed only when they felt I would die without it.”

Yoongi bites his lip before continuing on.  “I…I made another Min Yoongi, in my mind, one who would comply with them, take their bait, be free of their torture.  I’d allow myself to hate him, despise him, envy him - but never be him, because that would be breaking the rules I set up for us.  I’d fake entire conversations with that other me, where I would tell him I hated him and he’d tell me how sorry he was to see my suffering, but that I’d have to stay strong for the both of us.  And there was actually some comfort in that, some comfort in me pretending to talk with a fake version of me.  Isn’t that pathetic?”

“You were in an intense, high stress situation.  It’s normal for your brain to come up with a way to cope with the circumstances.  It’s nothing unusual, nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I still envy that other me, sometimes.  Is that normal?  Sometimes I think that maybe – maybe I should have just sacrificed my pride.  Because if I had done that, maybe I would have been broken in a million other ways, fine.  But at least I’d have my – have my face.”

Yoongi’s voice breaks on the last word, and Namjoon feels the pressing need to say something, to find the words that Yoongi needs to hear.

“What they did to you wasn’t your fault, you know,” Namjoon tells him, quietly.

“I’m aware, thank you.”

“But you’re still blaming yourself for doing the best you could in a situation outside of your control.  It’s important for you to hear, Yoongi.  Nothing that you went through, nothing you did, nothing that happened as a consequence - none of it is your fault.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything after that.  Eventually, he’s drifted off to sleep, Namjoon still clutching his hand.

xxiii.

On Friday, the university closes in anticipation of snowfall.

It’s a comfortable day, and Namjoon doesn’t even bother to change out of his pajamas.  Yoongi helps Namjoon make some cookies, and they come out only slightly burnt.  They spend into the evening watching some shitty romcom the local station is playing, adding snarky commentary overtop the characters’ stupidity.

“I want to see the stars,” Yoongi says, late that night.

Namjoon pauses from the email he had been typing, looks up at Yoongi.  “Right now?”

“Yeah.”

It’s nearly 10 PM, and Namjoon doesn’t want to think about how cold it is outside.  But he’s not about to hold Yoongi back, not from this.

They bundle up, putting on hats and mittens and scarves.  Despite all the food Yoongi has consumed these last two weeks, he’s still well underweight, and Namjoon’s old coat sits large on him. 

Yoongi opens up the door.  There’s a thick layer of snow that’s blanketed the place, making the world look like something foreign, something effortlessly beautiful.

Namjoon squints outside at the snow still falling from the skies.  “You sure you want to go out in this?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says breathlessly, though he still hesitates for a moment before taking the first step out of the apartment.

There’s no one else outside, and the snow crunches as they make their way down the wooden stairs.  Yoongi stands still at the bottom, just looking up at the snow as it lands gently on him.  He takes off his glove and holds his hand out under the snowfall, watching in wonder as the snowflakes land and melt onto his palm.

Yoongi starts walking in no particular direction, and Namjoon is happy to just follow him.  They end up near a playground, and Namjoon brushes the snow off of one of the swings before sitting down, admiring the gentle blanket of white.  The air is crisp enough that Namjoon can see his breath, and the cold air feels good for once, refreshing him in a way that he hadn’t realized he’d needed.  He closes his eyes and just breathes in the air, relaxing into the moment. 

Something cold hits the back of his head, and Namjoon yelps.  A snowball, he realizes, and he twists in the swing seat to look Yoongi in betrayal.  Yoongi laughs, and Namjoon abandons the swing, grabbing some snow in revenge.  Yoongi runs then – actually runs – and for a few minutes, nothing beyond them exists, they’re just two boys playing in the snow. 

It ends when Namjoon trips on a rock and slips face first into a pile of snow.  Namjoon groans, and Yoongi is nearly bent over in half, laughing at him.  He flops himself into the snow next to Namjoon, heedless of the snowflakes raining down on them.  His face is red from the cold, but he’s still laughing and there’s something about him that is just – whole again, Namjoon thinks in wonder.  

They spend a minute just catching their breath.  Namjoon stares into the sky, into the millions of snowflakes gently cascading down on them.

“Damn, after all that I can’t even see the stars out here,” Yoongi says.

“Eh, you have the rest of your life.  I’m pretty sure the stars will still exist tomorrow, too.”

It’s not even that much of a joke, but Yoongi laughs at that, laughs and laughs until there are tears streaming down his face.

“Namjoon.  I’m alive.”  Yoongi says breathlessly, sounding like he’s come to an epiphany.  “I can – I can see the stars again and run in the snow again and laugh again and make music again and – I’m limitless.”

Yoongi grins at him then, and something about it lights up his entire face despite the scars, despite the tears still streaming down.

Namjoon has watched Yoongi’s career from the beginning.  Watched him claw his way up the harsh music industry, watched him work past the critics to become someone who demanded worldwide respect, someone who had progressed from a question of ‘will he win any awards this year?’ to ‘which awards will he be winning today?’  Watched him take the titles of ‘producer’ and ‘rapper’ and evolve them into something that meant more.

At this moment, Namjoon has never been more proud of him.

xxiv.

Yoongi goes to take a shower to warm up while Namjoon starts up some hot chocolate.

It’s ready on the table when Yoongi gets out, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice.  Instead, he pauses in the doorway, looking at Namjoon. 

“What’s up?” Namjoon asks.  He looks a lot healthier, Namjoon thinks.  Namjoon’s pajamas still sit large on him, but he looks – resolute, now.

“I need to tell them.  That I got away.  That I’m alive.”

Namjoon blinks and puts in a bookmark, setting the book he’d been paging through down.

“Yes.  Yes, you do.”

“Fuck.”

Yoongi sighs and runs his hands through his hair.

“Okay.  Okay.  I’ll do it.”

“Right now?”  Namjoon can’t help but be a bit surprised.

“Yeah.  I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.  I’ve been putting it off long enough, haven’t I?”

“Well, yes.”

Yoongi looks at Namjoon expectantly, and Namjoon looks back, confused.

“I need your phone, Joon.”

“Oh!”  Feeling a bit stupid, Namjoon reaches in his pocket and passes over his phone.  He goes to leave the room so that Yoongi can have some privacy when Yoongi stops him.

“Can you – can you stay?” Yoongi asks quietly.  Quieter than Namjoon has ever heard him speak.

Namjoon knows Yoongi well enough by now that he doesn’t bother to ask if Yoongi is sure.  Instead, he nods, and the two of them settle down on the couch.  Yoongi curls up next to him, facing away.  Namjoon blinks up at the ceiling as he hears Yoongi tap on his phone, and then the ring of the other line.  Once – twice – three times.  Please, whoever it is, just pick up…

“Hello?”

The soft sound Yoongi makes doesn’t sound quite human.

“Hello?  Who is this?”

“Jungkook.  It’s – it’s me.”

There’s a silence so sharp that Namjoon feels like he would cut himself if he interrupted it.

“Who is this?  How did you get this number?”

“It’s me.  Min Yoongi.  I’m alive.”

There’s a longer pause this time.

“If this is a prank, I swear to god-”

Yoongi swears and starts muttering under his breath.  “Of course he wouldn’t believe me, the brat, I should have called Jin hyung instead, maybe he would have - ”

“…Hyung?”

“What?”

“It’s really – you?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, it’s me.”  Yoongi swallows.  “I’m alive.”

Jungkook lets out something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“You’re alive.  Oh my god Yoongi, you’re alive.  Oh my god.  Oh my god – HOBI!  HOBI HYUNG!  Get over here!  Now!  …It’s Yoongi!  He’s alive!”

Namjoon can hear a crash on the other end of the line.

A second voice comes desperately onto the line.  “Y - Yoongi?  Is that you?”

“It’s me.  Hi, Hyung.  Sorry for disappearing on you, on your big day and everything.”

“What happened?  Are you okay?”

“Are you joking?  I was kidnapped, of course I’m not okay.  But I’ll survive.”

“Okay.  Okay.  Surviving is good.  Oh my god, you’re alive.”  The first voice comes back on.  “Where – where are you?  Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’m safe now.  I…I managed to escape.  This man – Kim Namjoon – he found me and saved me.  I’m at his apartment now.  I can text you the address.  Just…don’t tell anyone I’m here yet, other than Seokjin hyung I suppose.  It’s – it’s important.”

“We’re on the way.  Don’t…don’t you dare hang up, you understand?  I swear to god, I’ll kill you if you hang up right now, Hyung.”

Yoongi chuckles, and Namjoon taps him on the shoulder.

“I’d like to take a shower before they arrive.  Are you going to be okay from here?” he asks, and Yoongi nods. 

When Namjoon glances back at him before he leaves the room, Yoongi’s eyes are closed as he listens to the other end of the phone, and if he’s crying just a little bit, well, Namjoon won’t tell a soul.

xxv.

It takes just over half an hour for the people Yoongi called to arrive.  Yoongi’s on the phone with them the entire time, but he still looks nervous in the few moments right before they reach the apartment.  Namjoon squeezes his shoulder, and Yoongi swallows before reaching out to open the door.

The nervousness fades in an instant as Yoongi is barreled over in fierce hugs.

Namjoon tries to intrude as little as possible.  To be honest, it’s a little overwhelming – even though Namjoon had long since gotten used to having Min Yoongi in his apartment, but he still can’t help but be just a bit starstruck at the presence of the three that had come from SJ Agency – Hoseok, Jungkook, and Kim Seokjin himself.

There’s a lot of tears, a lot of hugs, a lot of raw joy.  There’s sorrow too, after they see his scars, his condition.  But to their credit, they do their best to put that aside and instead just bask in the sensation of reunion.

Namjoon’s not all that surprised when Seokjin pulls him aside, later, leaving the other two to talk with Yoongi some more.

“How’d he get here?” Seokjin asks softly.

“I don’t know.  There was – I work, well, used to work - at a mailroom on campus.  They had a box, completely unmarked…I was told to open it, see if there was anything inside that would identify who it was supposed to be sent to.  He was stuffed inside.”

“A box?  Like, a shipping box?”

“Yeah, just a cardboard one.  It – I saved it, in case it could be used as evidence.  It’s in one of the closets, I can show it to you.”

Seokjin nods and Namjoon leads him there.  He pauses before opening the door.

“You…you might want to brace yourself.  The smell is a bit...overpowering.”

Seokjin steels himself and nods, so Namjoon moves away the towels still stuffed in the cracks of the door before opening it.  Even with the warning, Seokjin reels back, covering his nose.  Namjoon closes the door quickly. 

“What was that smell?”

Namjoon grimaces.  “A mixture of a lot of things, I’d reckon.  I don’t know how long he was in there, but I’m guessing at least three or four days.”

Seokjin looks like he might be sick, and Namjoon nods, understanding. “Yeah, it took days to get the apartment smelling normal again.”

“Days?  How long has he been here?”

“Two weeks.  Two weeks and a day, if you count today as Saturday.” It’s nearly three in the morning.  “He was in such a bad state when I found him.  I couldn’t even recognize him at first, I honestly thought he was a corpse.  You think he looks bad now?  This is significant improvement.  He…I asked if he wanted to call someone, but he couldn’t bring himself to.  Even in that state, he’s got too much pride, you know?  He knew not telling people he got away immediately was selfish, but even so, after everything he had been through, he needed to lick his wounds and get a bit stronger before facing the real world again, I think.”

Seokjin starts to speak, stops, considers, and starts again.  “Okay.  I can’t blame him for that.  Has he said anything about – about what he’s been through?”

“A bit.  It was – it was bad.  But listen.  The people that did this to him, they don’t know that he’s still alive.  They’re still out there.  You need to make sure the police arrest them before any news that he’s alive leaks out.”

Seokjin’s eyes widen and burn with rage.  Namjoon understands the feeling all too well.

Seokjin makes some phone calls, and it only takes a few minutes before there’s a quiet whirlwind of police.  Namjoon hands over the evidence he had collected – the box, the notebook, the bags of the gunk - and at some point Namjoon realizes that Yoongi has already left for proper medical care, and Namjoon is left with goodbyes still on his lips.

Seokjin pauses before leaving, wraps Namjoon in a tight hug before stepping back and looking Namjoon in the eye.

“Thank you.”

Namjoon nods back, and a few seconds later the apartment is empty once more.  The two mugs of hot chocolate are still sitting on the table, long cold and completely untouched.

xxvi.

The apartment feels empty without Yoongi.  Namjoon wishes that it didn’t bother him as much as it does.

xxvii.

It only takes an hour before Seokjin contacts Namjoon again.

One quick text.  Police got them.

Later that morning, SJ Agency announces a press conference, and the world assumes the worst.

xxviii.

It’s so weird, Namjoon thinks, browsing the communities he used to check constantly for news on Yoongi’s case.  Everyone is bracing themselves, preparing to hear that the police have finally found Yoongi’s remains.

In another world, I would have been there, needing support right along with the rest of everyone.

Jimin messages him.  I heard about the press conference.  I know it’s hard to have hope right now, but try and stay strong until they’ve announced anything for sure, okay?  I’ll be here if you need anything.  I’m so sorry, Namjoon.

The situation is just weird.

Namjoon can’t bring himself to reveal anything, not after this long of protecting the truth.  So he just sends a simple thank you back.

When the press conference starts, Seokjin is the only one on the stage.  The entire room is stuffed to the brim with reporters, but they are being quiet for once, respecting the gravity of the announcement.  Namjoon realizes that he can hear some sniffles from the crowd.

Seokjin looks tired, more tired than any man has the right to be.  But he sits tall, a rock in the rain of camera flashes.

“I am going to make this short, so as to not draw this out,” Seokjin says.  “I’ll take questions afterwards, and I know there will be a lot.  This morning, exactly three minutes past midnight, Jungkook received a phone call.  Min Yoongi is alive-”

The audience positively explodes.  Seokjin attempts to forge on but gives up to the noise for a few moments.  “Settle down!  Please!  I’ll take questions in a second! …Thank you.  He’s alive, has been successfully located, and is in our care at this time.  I will now take questions.”

He’s truly a professional at this, Namjoon thinks, watching as the young CEO expertly wades through the almost monstrous number of questions from the reporters.

“He has confirmed that as the video had shown, he had been forcefully taken and held against his will.  With the information he provided the police early this morning, they were able to successfully locate the three individuals involved and place them into police custody.”

“As a result of the conditions in which he was kept, he has been injured and weakened.  But he is alive, awake, and aware, and that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, will we make sure that Yoongi gets therapy to help him recover from the ordeal he had to endure.”

“We have hired a team of Korea’s best lawyers, and are fully intending on prosecuting his captors to the fullest extent of the law.  We have ample evidence to prove their involvement in his current condition, and are certain that justice can be served.”

“He had been assumed dead and disposed of by his captors, a bit over two weeks ago.  He was in extremely poor physical and mental condition at the time, and as a result was unable to announce his successful escape to us.  A stranger found him and helped nurse him back to health.  Very early this morning, Yoongi was strong enough to call Jungkook, who then alerted me about it.”

“We are still gathering information about that, please wait for the trial to hear any further details.”

“He’s being checked by a medical professional right now.  Unless he has to undergo surgery, he will do his best to hold a livestream at 9PM this evening.”

Needless to say, Namjoon spends his evening waiting for Yoongi’s livestream to come on.

At nine o’clock on the dot, he gets the notification for the livestream.  He settles down on the couch with some fresh coffee to watch it.  The coffee only helps a bit with his own exhaustion, and he can’t even imagine how long of a day it’s been for Yoongi. 

Sure enough, when the livestream begins, he can’t help but notice how tired Yoongi looks.  He’s wearing a facemask, and between that and the poor lighting Namjoon can only just make out the tips of his scars.

Hi. 

It’s me. 

Suga.  Min Yoongi. 

I’m alive. 

Sorry for disappearing on all of you like that, I know you must have worried for me.

A lot of what I wanted to say was covered in the press conference this afternoon, but I figure I’ll go through the gist of it all anyways.  So you can hear everything, in my own words.  I owe everyone that much.

My disappearance wasn’t intentional, though as I hear it you guys were able to figure that out, which is good I guess.  But yeah…I was kidnapped, actually kidnapped, by three saesangs.

As Jin hyung stated earlier at the press conference, the three of them were arrested by the police earlier today, thank god.

I’m not going to talk through the details of what they did to me.  It was bad.  I survived.  I would prefer to not go any deeper than that with you guys, with the general public.  But unfortunately, I think all the details will have to come out eventually at their trial.  If you don’t want to hear the details, don’t feel like you have to.  It’s okay.

Yoongi takes a long breath.

I survived.  Somehow, I managed to get away.  It was actually about two weeks ago that I was able to become free again, but I was very, very nearly dead.  Hah, I even thought I was dead at one point.  Slowly, ever so slowly, I regained my strength.  I’m still nowhere near the man I used to be.  But I can at least stand on my own two legs now, physically and metaphorically.

Yesterday, I summoned up all my strength and called Jungkook, told him that I had survived.

The people that had kidnapped me didn’t know that I was alive, as they had left me for dead.  So I communicated everything with the police, and they were able arrest those bastards without any complications.

And that brings us to this morning, when the world learned that I had returned.  To be honest, the amount of media attention everything has gotten has been…overwhelming.   Not that I blame the world for the attention, I can understand why everything blew up in the media so much.  Please don’t worry about me.  I will stay strong for everyone.

There’s a long pause.

There’s something you need to see.  It’s not going to be pretty.  But I refuse to just hide away forever, so you might as well get used to this, I suppose.  The new me.

Yoongi leans over and flips on another lamp, brightening up the room.  Slowly, he pulls down the mask, revealing the letters carved on his face.  M-I-N-E.  He turns his head side to side, giving the camera a complete picture of the wounds.

Namjoon has long since grown used to the scars, but even he winces at the sight.  On camera, the letters stand out so harshly, especially on Yoongi’s still-too-thin face.

I’ve been told by a couple of people now that these three letters – here Yoongi traces them, one at a time.  M, N, E. – these three have a good chance of healing over the next couple of months, with any luck without any scarring.  The ‘I’ was deeper, and it’ll probably stick around.

Yoongi lets out a shaky breath and blinks heavily up at the ceiling.  Ah, shit...Yoongi  mutters as he closes his eyes.  He takes a moment to calm himself before continuing on.

As - as a result of what I’ve been through, there’s been some…psychological side effects, I guess you can call it.  For example, I can’t eat food until I see someone else eat a bite first, even if I’m starving, even if I completely trust the person that made it.  I panic when the room I am in is locked, if I don’t have the key.  I have nightmares if I’m not grounded by something when I sleep…I don’t know if or when these echoes of what I’ve been through will fade, but I will get therapy and do my best to be kind to myself, let myself heal as best I can.

If you want to help me, I just ask that you try to not pity me.  I survived.  I escaped.  I won.  Those are the only things that matters.  Soon, this is going to be in the past.  Nothing but old scars, you could say.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as Yoongi says those familiar words.  He hadn’t known that Yoongi had been listening to him back then closely enough to have internalized those words.

I will be okay.  But I know that I’m not the only one hurting right now.  So now I would like to specifically address my fans, those of you who had gone through hell right along with me.

I’m sorry.  I’m sorry that I wasn’t the only one affected by this.  I’m so sorry that you all had to suffer too.  And I know that seeing me now, and eventually hearing the more gruesome details, those things may only bring more suffering to you.  I am so sorry.

The media, the attention, the trial…it’s going to be hard, but we’ll be a team, alright?  We will get through this, together, one step at a time.  I know nothing is going to be the same after this, but I will do my best to be transparent as possible, to make this the easiest as I can for all of us.

It’s a surprise to literally no one, but my music will have to take a break right now, between regaining my strength and going through the trial.

But I mean it when I say ‘break.’  I will come back to the stage, I promise that to all of you. 

I never let them win.  I’m not going to start now.

Yoongi moves as if to turn the livestream off on that dramatic declaration, but then he pauses.  Reconsiders.

My last words are for one specific individual.  I know you’d be watching this, and I know you know who you are.  In the rush of yesterday, I never had a chance to thank you. 

It takes a moment for that to sink in, and Namjoon nearly drops his coffee when he puts two and two together.

I know I have a reputation of being good with words, but I don’t think that there’s any combination of words that would do what I want to say to you justice.  So, I’ll just going to say this simply.  Thank you.  I owe you my life.  We’ll meet again eventually, okay?  Once everything settles down a bit more.

Yoongi smiles then, a big gummy smile that manages to light up his entire face, and Namjoon can’t help but be reminded of yesterday, of softness and snow.

Ah, that’s all I have to say for now really.  Thank you for tuning in, all – oh my god, that’s a lot of digits.  Well.  Thank you for tuning in, all eighteen million of you.  I’ll talk with everyone again soon, okay?  Take care of yourselves.  Don’t…don’t let this get to you too badly.  I’m alive.  I’m okay.

And with that, the livestream ends, and the comments start.

And boy do the comments start. 

From the very beginning, there had been so much global attention to this case.  Because of Suga’s talent and fame, because of the shocking nature of the crime, because of the blisteringly frustrating lack of police progress.

But even that global attention is dwarfed by the attention that the case is now getting.  Now that Yoongi has returned, the world has been on its toes waiting to hear what he has to say.  Waiting to hear his story of what happened, what he endured, how he survived.

And even knowing all of that, Namjoon is surprised at how many tens of millions of people watched Yoongi live or on replay.  How many people are weeping for Yoongi’s scars, heaping admiration on the fact that he can still smile so brightly despite them.  How many people are invested in all that is happening, translating or analyzing or reading analyses of every word Yoongi has said.

And even though Namjoon was there, though he was played a part in everything, he still feels small, somehow. 

He can’t even begin to imagine what Yoongi is feeling. 

xxix.

What’s true is this: if it weren’t for the few echoes left behind from Yoongi’s presence – the mostly empty bottles of gel in Namjoon’s bedroom, the songs on Namjoon’s computer that had been perfected, hell, even the way Namjoon’s rent has been mysteriously paid off – the entirety of the last couple weeks could have been a dream.

But now Min Yoongi is front and center on the stage of the world, and Kim Namjoon is just a college student struggling to make ends meet.  Their paths converged for a bit, and then they just…didn’t. 

What’s even truer is this: Namjoon is happy that Yoongi was able to gain the strength to return, really, he is...but he still misses Yoongi’s presence more than he’d ever be able to admit.

xxx.

International superstar Min Yoongi is a legend, demolishing record after record with his fierce music.  International superstar Min Yoongi  has made every headline out there with the news of his disappearance, and somehow even more with the news of his safe – though scarred - return.  International superstar Min Yoongi has the eyes of the world on him now, waiting anxiously for his next move after returning alive from hell.

International superstar Min Yoongi is sitting on Namjoon’s couch, eating some ramen.

Namjoon supposes that he missed his calling as a boxer, considering how many punches he’s had to roll with lately.

He only barely manages to not drop the bags he is holding.  “Yoongi!  Oh my god, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon!”  It had only been three days since Yoongi’s return, and the media attention had yet to show any signs of letting up.

Yoongi takes another bite of the ramen before setting it down.  “I came to return your pajamas,” he says, standing up and passing over a bag.  “I was still wearing them when I left.  Uh, but you weren’t in and it was cold outside, so I let myself in.  I…I still have your key…sorry about that,” he adds sheepishly.

“It’s fine.  I have another, you can keep that one,” Namjoon says.  He takes a moment to take Yoongi in.  The attention from actual medical professionals seems to have done him good, because everything from how he’s holding himself to his appearance to his expression just looks…stronger.

But Namjoon knows Yoongi, and he can see a bone-deep tiredness underneath that mask.

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon asks.  “You don’t look too well.”

Yoongi looks down.  “I can’t sleep.  The nightmares have come back and I…I was wondering if…if it would be okay if I…”

Namjoon wraps Yoongi into a fierce hug, and Yoongi melts into him.

“I’ve missed you,” Namjoon says, freely.  “You’re welcome to spend the night here anytime you’re having nightmares, alright?”

After a few moments, Yoongi pulls back and Namjoon bites his lip.  There’s nothing romantic about this, but Namjoon’s not dumb, he knows exactly what it would look like to any outsiders.  “Did any of the press follow you here?” he asks, hating the fact that he has to ask.

To his surprise, Yoongi only grins at that.  “You know what’s great about being the number one focus of worldwide sympathy?  If anyone even thought about breaking news like that, they’d be eaten alive by the general public.”

There’s no pattern to when Yoongi comes over.  He’s not there every day, instead usually just two or three times a week, when the nightmares get too bad to be alone.  It only takes a couple of weeks for Namjoon to grow tired of the surprises and gives Yoongi his number, tells him to at least warn him when he’s going to come over, damn it.  But then without even noticing it, he finds himself texting back and forth with Yoongi more and more frequently.  Whenever his friends do something funny or something dumb, whenever he has some random interesting thought, whenever he wants to complain about whatever assignment he’s stuck on.

The trial starts about a month after Yoongi’s return, and it’s a very, very public one.  Yoongi stays strong in front of the judge and the cameras, reciting every detail of what the three had done to him as the world watches and weeps.  His capture, his initial good treatment which soon devolved into torture at his refusal to play along and comply.  He holds nothing back.

Not even Namjoon had realized how bad it had gotten.

There’s a disconnect, somewhere.  In front of the cameras, in front of the world, Min Yoongi is the perfect image of a strong survivor, not showing any weaknesses for his fans’ sake.  But in front of Namjoon, he allows that mask to drop, allows the panic and anxiety that he’d been carefully hiding from the world to show. 

Namjoon can’t help wonder sometimes.  Wonder why Yoongi has picked him over even those he had known for years to be the one he shows these weaknesses to.  Wonders at how Yoongi feels so comfortable in his presence to reveal how much everything is getting to him.  Wonders if Yoongi’s dependency on him is even healthy.

Hoseok, at least, answers the last one, one afternoon over lunch.  He hasn’t shown any hint of how much this is affecting him anyone else.  Anyone else.  Not the public, not his friends, not anyone at the agency.  He chose you to be his rock, and if it wasn’t for that, he wouldn’t have been able to handle any of this, I think.  Thank you, Kim Namjoon.

Namjoon learns quickly how to separate the good days from the bad ones.  On the good days there’s music, there’s laughter, and Yoongi is just a warmth at his side at night.  On the bad days, Namjoon will wordlessly rub Yoongi’s back as he vomits in the toilet, physically sick from having to recount the trauma he faced, having his darkest memories broadcast to the world, having to be so close to the monsters that had done this to him.  On the worst days, Yoongi will completely fold into Namjoon’s arms at nighttime, just needing to recede from the world. 

The younger sister ends up taking a plea deal, coming fully clean in exchange for a more merciful sentence.  And so the world finally learns the truth of how Yoongi came to be in the box.  “My sister saw him lying on the floor and thought he was dead, told me to dispose of him.  I noticed he had a pulse, but I didn’t say anything.  He was close enough to death.  It would be a mercy to just let him die, I thought…I stuffed him in a box and sealed it up the best I could before leaving it by a dumpster downtown.”  From there some random passerby saw the box, assumed it being placed by the dumpster was a mistake and dropped it off at the delivery center next door, where it ended up being accidentally stuffed into the last truck of the day...

Namjoon ends up having to tell Jimin and Taehyung the truth of everything, though naturally it takes a video call with Min Yoongi for them to believe him.  There’s about a fraction of a second where his friends both want to kill Namjoon, before they realize that it means that Namjoon was the one that had saved Min Yoongi’s life.

“You did too, Taehyung, even if it was a complete accident,” Namjoon says.  “If you hadn’t accepted that box, it would have just returned to the headquarters and placed in some room for a later inspection…it was a Friday, it would have been at least a couple of days before someone opened it.  He’d never have survived.”

Taehyung freaks out more than just a little bit at that.

The two of them do have to provide short written testimonies for the trial – though to the public, at least, their names and personal details are all censored. 

(Namjoon won’t deny that it’s hilarious watching Taehyung squirm when under oath he has to admit that the reason he accepted the box was mainly for 20,000 won from the lazy delivery man.)

Namjoon himself gives several long testimonies, going over every detail multiple times.  He too is permitted to stay anonymous to the public, which is fortunate as the public goes crazy over Yoongi’s mysterious savior, the unknown hero that had found him, saved him, nursed him back to health.  Yoongi’s own testimony doesn’t help to end their obsession at all.  “He never pried, never pushed me, never judged me for my weaknesses.  And somehow, he took the thousand scattered tiny fragments of me and was able to stitch me into a person again.  I don’t think anyone else in the world could have done that.  I think maybe meeting him was the universe’s way of apologizing, after all I had been through.”

Yoongi’s Guardian Angel, the internet nicknames him at first.  Over time that simplifies to just Yoongi’s Guardian.  It’s so freaking cringy that part of Namjoon wants to curl up in a ball and die.  The name grows into a persona of its own right, with people using the name as a source of inspiration, some even drawing fanart of him despite not knowing anything about what Namjoon looks like.

Naturally, Yoongi teases him about the nickname incessantly, on his good days.

Namjoon has grown used to texting the others at SJ Agency on how Yoongi is doing, but somewhere along the line he has the chance to properly meet them.  Hoseok comes over for lunch whenever there’s a rare day when their schedules line up.  They’re all good folks, and Namjoon becomes fast friends with them. 

The trial itself drags on for three months, but at long last between the testimonies, the evidence that Namjoon had carefully kept, and the proof police had discovered in the kidnapper’s home, the verdict is a simple and overwhelming guilty on all charges.  Of the three, only the youngest will be able to walk freely in her lifetime again.

Yoongi had yet to be anything but strong in front of the public throughout the grueling trial, but after the final sentencing he can’t help but break out in sobs.  Namjoon pours himself some wine and tips it at the tv.

xxxi.

Yoongi doesn’t stop coming by Namjoon’s apartment after the trial concludes, though at least there’s no more bad days after that. 

Between the doctors, the therapy, and the heavy media attention, Yoongi is incredibly busy, but somehow he still fits in time to work on his music for his eventual return.  He starts bringing some of the music he’s working on with him to the apartment– and pays to download some of his fancy preferred editing software too, since he bitches about Namjoon’s so much – and they spend hours working on the pieces together, trying to find the perfect beat, the perfect turn of phrase.

Namjoon finds himself looking forward to the days Yoongi stays the night, keeps them as motivation to get through some of his bullshit class assignments.  It’s fun, chatting with Yoongi, working with him, just being around him and one day Namjoon realizes that Yoongi has somehow transitioned from someone he knows to someone he can’t imagine living without.  

And if he's being honest with himself, Namjoon really likes sleeping with Yoongi's warmth at his side.

(What’s true is this: what’s between them is completely platonic, but buried deep down in a place where no one else would see, a part of Namjoon wishes it wasn’t.)

(What’s true is this: Namjoon knows himself well enough to recognize a big dumb crush when he feels it, but he forces himself to put his feelings aside because he is old enough and mature enough to realize that this is not the time.  Because Yoongi is depending on him to be the one constant in his life.  Because the last thing Namjoon wants is for Yoongi to feel like he has to reciprocate, lest he lose Namjoon’s support or friendship.  Because Yoongi is dealing with a million other things right now, and this is not the time to cause him more stress.)

(What’s true is this: It’s selfish, but Namjoon doesn’t want their arrangement to end.)

xxxii.

The end of senior year becomes even more hectic as a shitton of job applications joins in the mix of an already busy schedule. 

Yoongi frowns as he sees Namjoon work on one of the applications, one evening.  “Job application?  What for?” he asks.

“So I can get a job, what the hell did you think it was for?”

Yoongi frowns some more.  “You don’t want to work for SJ Agency?  I’m already working with you on half my stuff right now, you might as well make a career of it.”

Namjoon sighs and leans back in his chair.  SJ Agency…Namjoon can’t lie to himself, of course he wants to work there, work with Yoongi on his music full time.  Even before this entire mess, SJ Agency had been his dream.  But…“There hasn’t been any job openings as a producer there, Yoongi.  Hasn’t been for years.  I’ve looked every week.”

Yoongi looks at him as if he’s crazy.

“Well, of course you wouldn’t have to apply, you’re already one of us in all but writing.  We’d all just kind of…assumed you would join us.”

Namjoon pauses as that sinks in, narrows his eyes.  “And none of you were going to tell me that?”

“Uh…I guess it just…never occurred to us that we’d have to spell it out?” Yoongi says, sheepishly.

Namjoon presses a hand to his forehead as he feels the beginnings of a headache, and comes to the rather bittersweet realization that he might be working with a bunch of idiots for the rest of his life.

xxxiii.

Working at SJ Agency is definitely a transition – he’d already been working with Yoongi on his pieces, but there’s new responsibilities too, of working with Jungkook and Hoseok, of learning all the new equipment and software, of having to work on music in a professional setting instead of just in his apartment.  But overall, the transition from Kim Namjoon, college student, to Kim Namjoon, full-time producer at SJ Agency is a surprisingly easy one.

The main office is a bit just too far to be a comfortable commute, so Namjoon starts looking to move closer to it.  Yoongi is a pain in the ass about the move, vetoing some perfectly fine apartments because they don’t meet his ever-elusive standards.  Eventually Namjoon snaps, tells Yoongi he'd buy some star stickers for the new ceiling if that’s what it would take for Yoongi to stop whining like a child.  Strangely, that actually seems to work, because Yoongi stops protesting after that.  Namjoon shrugs and buys some of the stickers the next time he goes to the store.

(Namjoon knows better than to even think about calling him out on it, but he rather suspects that Yoongi is more sentimental about the move than himself.)

Yoongi’s first comeback is four months after the trial ends, almost a full year since he had been kidnapped.  The two of them had slaved over the music for months by that point, pouring everything they could into giving the world a reason to stay beyond the initial support.  There was a fine line that Yoongi wanted to touch with this album.  Not ignoring what had happened, but not focusing on it either.  Acknowledgement – closure - while still moving on, letting go.

They did a damn fine job of finding that line, going by the sales, the reviews, the reaction of the public.

Promotions for the album – Constellations - last for a couple of weeks, and Yoongi goes through them gloriously, despite how much Namjoon can see them wear him out behind the scenes of it all.  He only comes over to spend the night a couple of days during those weeks, and Namjoon would be lying if he told himself that he doesn’t miss his presence around the apartment.

He comes over the day promotions end, and they celebrate over a bottle of wine.  It’s late by the time they finish, but when Namjoon pads into his bedroom, Yoongi doesn't follow. 

"I left the desk lamp on for you, just turn it off when you get tired,” Namjoon says after he finishes changing.

Yoongi’s not looking at him, and Namjoon suddenly grows worried.

"Namjoon.  Look, there's something I should tell you.  That I need to tell you." Yoongi licks his lips before continuing.  "I haven't been having nightmares.  For weeks now.  No, months.  Ever since the trial ended, really.  I've been - I've been taking advantage of you, of your kindness.  I should just – go home.  Not spend the night."

Namjoon swallows and considers that, considers what Yoongi is saying.  What Yoongi is not saying. 

This…this changes a lot of things, actually.

In all these months that Yoongi had been a guest here, Namjoon had been feeling guilty over actually enjoying his presence at night.

He had never considered that Yoongi might have felt guilty about enjoying it too.

"You know Yoongi, if you're searching for a new validation to curl up with me at night, because you want to is a perfectly valid reason, in my opinion.”

Yoongi doesn’t quite look like he understood what Namjoon is trying to say.  So Namjoon tries again, makes it simpler.

“I don’t mind it when you stay the night in bed with me.  I like it.  It’s nice, sleeping next to you.  Even if you can do fine without staying the night, you’d still be welcome to stay.”

Yoongi shakes his head, frustrated.  “That’s…sharing a bed, cuddling – those aren’t things that friends usually do, Joon.”

“It hasn’t been bothering me.  I don’t care if you don’t.”  Namjoon pauses.  Notices the blush that’s rapidly forming on Yoongi’s cheeks.  Decides to just fucking commit for once in his life, and hope the consequences don’t end up burning him too badly.  “Though if you ever wanted to try and be something more than friends, all you have to do is say the word, Yoongi.”

Yoongi blinks, as if he had never considered that Namjoon would ever consider that.  His face is bright red, and Namjoon is sure that he’s not doing that much better himself.  He doesn’t say anything, and the two of them stand in silence in the hallway.  Namjoon can almost see the gears turning inside Yoongi’s head.

“I’m…I’m damaged goods, Namjoon.  You don’t want this.”

“I’ve seen every side of you, Yoongi.  I’ve seen your good days.  I’ve seen your bad days.  I’ve seen the days that you’ve not let any other person witness.  You are not damaged goods.”

Yoongi looks at Namjoon then, looks steadily into his eyes.

“My scars.”  It’s only two words, but they drip heavy with meaning.  This is it, Namjoon thinks.  Yoongi’s most vulnerable piece.

Namjoon approaches Yoongi, then.  Ever so gently, he reaches forward and takes Yoongi’s face between his hands.  Rubs his thumbs over Yoongi’s cheeks, feels the way his soft skin is broken by the ridges from the scars.  Looks at Yoongi right in the eyes.

“Don’t you dare go through life thinking you don’t deserve to be loved because of them.”

Yoongi shakes his head.  “That’s not – I’m not asking for me.  Not this time.  I’m asking if they bother you.”

Namjoon snorts.  “You know the answer to that, Yoongi.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not – important, for me to hear,” Yoongi responds, narrowing his eyes.

Namjoon looks at Yoongi steadily.  “You are so much more than an old wound on your face.  I don’t care.”

“It's that easy?" Yoongi whispers, his breath hot on Namjoon’s face.

"If you want this? Then yeah. It's that easy."  Their faces are only inches apart.

“…Okay.”  And Yoongi leans forward.

xxiv.

After that, some things change.  Most things stay the same.

What’s the same is this: The two of them work on music together.  Laugh together.  Support each other in ways that they don’t display to the world.

What changes is this: Namjoon starts spending the night at Yoongi’s, on the days that Yoongi doesn’t come over himself.  Now there’s more between them, something tender, something more permanent, something deeper.

What changes is this: Namjoon has never been this happy.

Life goes on.

Jimin manages to pass a blind audition and joins as a talent at SJ Agency, and Namjoon couldn’t be prouder of him when he finds out.  More surprisingly, Taehyung – who had literally just tagged along to keep Jimin company - somehow manages to pass the audition too, because what the fuck Taehyung, apparently the agriculture major could sing.

(It will never not be disconcerting seeing his college friends run around with superstar Jeon Jungkook, though.)

Working at SJ Agency - it’s good.  Namjoon only signed on as a producer, but somewhere along the line there started being tentative talks for a unit project Tryptich between Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok.  Maybe more than just a unit project if it does well – and Namjoon won’t kid himself, he’s worked on the music, he knows it will. 

Yoongi adjusts to the media attention, flourishes under it, even.  It’s almost embarrassing – and a tad scary, if Namjoon is being honest - how much he has the global general public eating out of his hand even months after the novelty of his situation wears off.  Yoongi takes everything in stride magnificently, and being able to witness it feels like the greatest honor Namjoon has ever had.

Namjoon has never been this happy before.  This in love before.  This willing to commit to growing old with another person before.

What’s true is this: When they’re together, the future seems as limitless as the stars in the nighttime sky, and Namjoon knows that wherever they go, they’ll be okay.