Archive of Our Own

November 1st 2018

Namjoon watches Seokjin sway on his tippy toes, feet anchoring themselves into the fluffy rug as he reaches up to put the angel on their tree for the very first time. It's a family heirloom that Namjoon has had in his possession for years, but never even dared to take out of the box. Until Seokjin came along.

He still doesn't touch it, but he trusts Seokjin more than himself, so he lets him position it on top of the tree. His hands hover there, making sure it sits just right, before he slowly steps back from it, admiring his own work. 

Namjoon smiles, feeling the rug soft and comforting under his own toes. Seeing a piece of his own family history shimmering so pretty in Seokjin's steady hands makes him that much more certain of his decision.

The radio plays soft christmas music in the background, their apartment is lit up softly in scented candles and golden fairy lights, and their hot chocolates sit cooling in matching mugs just off to the side of their eyelines, waiting for them. 

The lighting is dull and yellow and perfect, thanks to the fireplace, providing a soft crackle underneath the music. The brick wall around it provides a homely feeling that they had just fallen in love with when they were searching for an apartment. The fireplace was the main reason they had ended up choosing this one.

Namjoon loves Christmas. So much so he was already thinking about how to dress up the apartment back before their lease started in May. And he kept thinking about it, all the way up to October, right through to now: November.  

If the stores can act like it's christmas already, then why can't he? 

Okay, so Namjoon got excited and decided to impulsively put their tree up a little early. Is that a crime?

Seokjin snorts. "It should be! It's 3am. Some people are still out celebrating halloween."

"Who decides the cut off line for these things though, hyung? If I wanna put my tree up on halloween, what is going to stop me?"

He rummages through the ornament box on the floor, admiring all the ones from Seokjin’s collection, some that he’s never seen before.

" Me," Seokjin says matter of factly, reaching past Namjoon to hang another bauble up. "As long as you live with me, you will never ever disregard halloween by slapping christmas over the top of it, okay? I'm only allowing this much because it's past midnight, and I wasn't aware what was happening until it was too late."

"I didn't want to disregard halloween anyway.." Namjoon argues sulkily, pout finding its way to his lips.

He flushes when Seokjin begins laughing at him, humiliation with just a tad of endearment crawling up his spine. Sheepishly, he picks up another decoration, and gets to his feet.

His pout feels comfortable on his lips so he doesn't bother dropping it, until Seokjin comes out with a sigh. "It's only just November, Namjoon, we're still earlier than everyone else."

Seokjin has an affinity for these occasions too, but at least he can hold himself up to certain standards. Keep some boundaries.

"Alright, alright," Namjoon relents, his bright smile coming back full force, eyes on the tree, scanning its branches for the perfect spot to hang his bauble. "I know."

He can't keep the smile from his face, even with his back to Seokjin, when he feels hands snake around his hips. A head comes to rest on his shoulder, sharp chin digging into his skin in a way that could only ever make him grin.

"I'm just excited that I get to spend this christmas with you. Like, properly together, for the whole day."

Seokjin's voice vibrates through Namjoon's neck when he replies. "Me too."

This is the first christmas that has passed since Seokjin came out to his family. Namjoon knows how much Seokjin has given up for him.

Two years of dating. Keeping secrets from families. Sanding down the sides of their friendships until they became family too. So they have each other. They have their friends..

Seokjin hadn’t technically been banned from christmas dinner. "You can’t bring your friend with you," they had said. It meant the same thing, really. 

“It’s us, or him.”

And he didn't have to, but Seokjin chose Namjoon . Over his own flesh and blood. He chose to spend this holiday with Namjoon. 

His parents were upset, a little shocked even, and are still waiting with plans unchanged for him to change his mind. Namjoon would have understood it, if he had. But Seokjin told him that he knew their acceptance was always going to be a little bit counterfeit. He also told Namjoon he knew that’s never what would be between the two of them. 

It’s not that Namjoon blames Seokjin for picking him over a day with his own family, but a part of him worries he could one day come to regret it. And he worries that if their relationship isn’t soured by something else at that point, the regret could be what does it. It’s only a small fear. It’s probably just his own self-deprecation talking.. Afraid to remember what it’s like not being alone at the holidays, only to be dropped back into it all over again when Seokjin leaves him.

Not that he thinks he will leave him. They’ve been through a lot together. They’ve been together unofficially far longer than either one of them would care to admit. Stealing glances and smiles and pissing their friends off with the obliviousness of it; This thing between them that frustratingly, neither would acknowledge even though it was so painfully fucking blatant to them and everyone else. It was embarrassing, really. In the end, they felt like it would save them a lot of pain to just cop to it and start dating properly. 

Now, Namjoon wants to tie him down, so to speak. No, rather.. What he wants is to tie them together . Marriage is a little weird, maybe. Binding someone to yourself by law..

He wants to be bound to him though. He wants the rights that come with being Seokjin’s legal husband. He wants it in writing, so it can’t be discarded or brushed off by doctors and government officials and.. willfully ignorant family members.

It's with these thoughts in mind that Namjoon waits for Seokjin to go to bed first. He waits until he can’t hear his footsteps anymore. Stands in their living room and lets the giddy feeling bloom in his chest, before he crouches to the floor on his hands and knees, and hides the small boxed gift deep beneath the tree, so he doesn't find out too early.

Namjoon follows Seokjin to their room soon after. Sees him lying on their bed, grinning up at him, like he was waiting for him, (because he was,) and thinks he'll never get used to this.

They share saccharine kisses, and oxygen and heartbeats like this. Namjoon fists desperate fingers through Seokjin's hair, Seokjin leaves careful trails of pink bruises across Namjoon's skin, sighs leaving each of their lips as they breathe each other in.

Until they fall asleep, and Namjoon starts to dream. 

He dreams of the gift hidden under the tree for Seokjin to see on christmas morning.

He dreams of what words Seokjin might have said.. if he hadn't left.

November 16th 2018

"What if he says no? I'm so nervous." 

Namjoon's hands shake around the mug in his hands, still mostly full because he's too anxious to drink it, just needs something to hold onto - to ground him.

He swirls it in his hands, the hot chocolate clashing with the cream, spilling dangerously close to the edge of ceramic. It keeps swirling even after he stills, and he thinks that's how he feels right now. So anxious and tightly wound.

Yoongi takes a sip of his own drink, shrugging. "If he says no, that's okay. If you love him, you'll wait, right?" He looks up, the question far from rhetorical as his eyes bore into Namjoon's.

"Of course," he exclaims, eyebrows rising in surprise that he would even have to ask. "I'd wait forever for Jin hyung."

Yoongi grins. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Namjoon smiles to himself, worries melted away like sugar into the hot chocolate he still hasn't bothered drinking, and finally takes a sip. A happy sigh leaves his lips when it's the perfect temperature on his tongue.

"Thanks, hyung. You always know what to say."

Yoongi shakes his head, brushing it off. "It's what I'm here for - but for the record I still think you guys are weird as fuck for putting your tree up this early."

They pass casual chit chat for a little while after that. Chats with Yoongi are always soothing to Namjoon’s soul. He doesn't know why he doesn't come here more often.

“Yoongi hyung, do you have any more mini marshmallows?” He asks with a mouthful of hot chocolate, wiping away the cream on his lip with his sleeve even though he knows Seokjin will tell him off for it later.

Yoongi smirks at him, a fond look in his eye that never fails to make Namjoon feel safe and at home here. “Sure. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Namjoon has to hold back a groan when Yoongi returns, with a bag of tangerines in his hand instead, marshmallows long forgotten. This is why it isn't safe to come over when Hoseok isn't here. 

Well, that’s his cue to leave.

He sets down his mug and starts to stand up, and Yoongi strikes him with an unimpressed look. He smiles at him, sheepishly, guilt seeping out from the corners and causing a strain on his lips.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he scolds, thrusting the bag into Namjoon’s arms. “Jin hyung said he wanted some, and anyway, it’s about time you should be getting back. This always seems to do the trick.”

"Ah.." He knows him too well. Namjoon nods, shaking the bag. “Thank you, he’ll be grateful.”

Yoongi stands back and just looks at him for a moment. He seems almost proud, though his lips remain in a straight line, shoulders set back stoically. Finally, after what seems like forever, he sighs. “Go on, get out of here.”

Yoongi waves to him when he steps past the door, and then abruptly closes it behind him. Namjoon grins, bracing himself on the doormat for a moment, before he sets off down the hall towards the stairs.

Namjoon appreciates it greatly, everything Yoongi does for him, more than he'll admit. He hasn't had to buy tangerines at wintertime ever since he and Yoongi met. He can't imagine how expensive it must be, keeping the entire community fed and scurvy free like he does.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

When Namjoon gets back home, all the lights are on. It twinkles and glitters, drawing him in closer despite the uneasiness settling in his stomach that he doesn’t pay any mind to, yet. The whole house is lit up like a, well, like a christmas tree. He lets the door fall shut behind him, clicking itself into the latch.

"Hello? Jin hyung? Are you here?" The apartment is quiet save for the sound of his keys dropping into the basket, and Namjoon shrugs his shoes off, waiting for an answer that never comes.

He passes the table on his way to their room, setting the bag of fruit down on top of it. It's much too quiet in here. 

"He left the lights on.." Namjoon muses softly as he pads his way down the hall. He knocks softly on their bedroom door before opening it, stepping inside the room drenched in darkness. His stomach drops.

Seokjin isn't in bed.

Namjoon tries to stop the panicky feeling from rising in his chest as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

It's alright. He could be anywhere. He could have gone out to the shops, he could have gone on a walk, or an emergency visit to a family member, or a friend in need. Just because it's 10pm, and Seokjin has never been out this late alone without telling Namjoon before isn't a reason to worry..

He breathes steadily, in through his nose, as he gets up his contact list and goes back through to the living room. Scrolling through frantically with shaky hands, even though Seokjin’s name is the first one on his list. He doesn’t want to stop touching it, even though there’s no more he can do than press call.

His pacing feet make it through to the living room, but then he stops just before he reaches the tree. There's something underneath his foot.

His phone doesn't make a sound when it falls to the floor, it's incessant beeping drowned into background noise as Namjoon sinks to his knees.

Namjoon picks up the ring box with trembling fingers. He opens it with great difficulty, like his hands figure out what’s happening before his brain does, and they're desperately trying to protect him from what's inside. 

When he finally prises the thing open, inside there's a note. It's Seokjin’s handwriting, scrawled on the back of a torn piece of wrapping paper. He bites his lip to keep it from quivering, and to keep his eyes from tearing up so much that he can't read what it says.

'I'm sorry, Joonie. I can't do it. You don't deserve this.. Please just forget about me. Please, just let me go.'

Namjoon clutches it close to his chest. Fingers twitching and squeezing around it as desperately as he holds onto his disbelief.

He doesn't even notice when the phone stops ringing.

The number you're trying to call is unavailable right now - Please call back later.

December 23rd 2018

Namjoon is worrying himself sick. He can’t sleep, he can’t eat, he feels jittery, and panicked, and so fucking lonely.

He still has no idea who Seokjin could be staying with, he's still not answering Namjoon's calls, and it's almost christmas. 

It's been over a month. A wretchedly long time, long enough for Namjoon to accept that even though it's the last thing in the world he wants, the last thing in the world he had expected, he and Seokjin are done.

Heartbroken doesn't come close to how he feels right now. It's been so long. Even if Seokjin came through the door right now, it's not like they could carry on no questions asked. Their perfect, simple, uncomplicated life is over.

It's the wrong thing to grieve. He knows that. It’s not like it matters anyway, the hypothetical scenarios his brain could create to help him sleep at night. He knows Seokjin isn’t coming back.

At least he had done it before christmas. That's something. Namjoon won't have to know what it's like to spend christmas with him. He won't have to miss it when it's gone. 

Only he hadn't realised before, how easy it happens that you can miss something you were only ever anticipating. You can miss something you wanted to happen, because you hung so much of yourself on it. He gave so much to him. He trusted him. And that was his fault, so he can't even blame Seokjin. Not that that would make it any easier.

They had plans together. And now all they are is scribbles on the calendar they used to share. A calendar that Seokjin bought, that stays on Namjoon’s fridge, and Seokjin can’t even see it. He doesn’t need to.

Looking over the list makes him feel ill. Stupid stuff like baking together, making hot chocolate, and watching their favourite movies.

It’s all gone just like that. It was naive of Namjoon to think he could have him. That he could replace an entire bloodline like that, just because he loves him. Maybe choosing to love someone isn’t enough.

But funnily enough, it had never felt like a choice to him. It rips him up inside when he can’t be near to Seokjin. Maybe that makes him clingy, and maybe that’s unappealing, but he loved him as honestly as he could. He had to. There was no choice involved for Namjoon.

He guesses Seokjin didn’t feel the same way. 

Hoseok had rang Namjoon yesterday, to ask if everything was okay after Yoongi got an email from Seokjin that he claimed was copy pasted straight out of a wikihow article on 'how to quit your job for no reason three days before christmas and two weeks after I stopped bothering to fucking show up in the first place.'

He hadn’t told them before then. Maybe part of him was in denial. The part of him that wakes up every morning and stretches out all five of his fingers, reaching out for someone else who isn’t there, before he even opens his eyes. Mostly though, he was just embarrassed. 

They knew he was proposing. He couldn’t shut up about it for weeks before all this. Hoseok went with him to pick out the ring, for god's sake. He and Seokjin were supposed to be engaged in two days. Instead, all Namjoon is left with is a cold and empty bed, trapped feeling like an unwanted guest in his own home. It was never meant to be just him living there. Without Seokjin, it’s so unbearably hollow.

As it turned out though, Hoseok and Yoongi knew anyway. Seokjin had told them. At about the same time he quit his job and sent Yoongi into a catastrophic rage. 

He's pissed. They both are. Namjoon wishes he could say he blames him. He doesn't have the energy to feel a certain way about it though. The thought of harbouring any ill will towards Seokjin right now makes him feel sick. But he can't say he doesn't understand their animosity.

They've all been friends for so long. He's still avoiding Namjoon's calls. He’s still avoiding Yoongi and Hoseok calls, too.

It used to be that when he called, the phone would ring until the operator said it wasn't available. But now, it barely gets two rings in before the room is swallowed by the increasingly familiar silence again. He's making an active effort not to answer Namjoon's calls. So, at the very least, Namjoon knows he's alive.

Knowing someone is out there though, somewhere that isn't here -

-It doesn't exactly compare to waking up every morning with a chaste kiss on your lips, and falling asleep tangled up in the same set of arms every night.

To memorise someone's smile - to expect the mundane joy and contentment they bring to your life - is a terrible, horrific thing.

Namjoon packs up a box to take to Yoongi's place that night, no longer able to look at it's contents.

He musters up all of his courage, because it takes so much of it, to be able to put the things away from him, (even just at arms length,) when half the contents of the box still smell like Seokjin. Namjoon couldn’t stop crying after that first week, when he had finally showered Seokjin’s scent from his own skin. It was so alien, not to smell like him. To smell like nothing, so strong it made him sick, knowing he could never get it back.

At first, the whole apartment had smelt like him, like them . But the more time passes, the more it fades. The more abandoned Namjoon feels.

He gets on the train, and makes the long, awkward journey there, numb to the glares of strangers trying to make their way home for the holidays without being crushed to death by an anxious wreck with a cardboard box clutched to his chest. He doesn't care about them.

He can't. He has to be selfish. Just for a little while. His fingers tighten around the box, the comforting scent of Seokjin's cologne clinging to the cardboard. It pervades his senses, and there's no way he could escape. It's so conflicting, to be soothed and devastated by a single thing all at once.

“Please- I know it's a lot to ask. And I will come back and get it again, in the new year. I've just been looking at his stuff for too long and it’s driving me crazy and- I can't look at it anymore."

He uses his breaths sparingly, holding the box out in front of him, arms shaking from the weight of it and the constant fight between the part of him that came here, and the part that desperately wants to keep holding on.

"Namjoon, it's fine! It's a box, not a puppy! We have space!" Hoseok laughs gently, hauling the box up from Namjoon's arms. "This is a really big step, Joon-ah. I’m proud of you."

Namjoon isn't sure that's true. He should feel good now, free, but instead all he feels is hollowed out and empty. But he smiles politely anyway, thanks Hoseok again, and declines his kind offer to make him a cup of coffee.

He has prior plans, to get wasted and cry.

December 24th 2018

The angel breaks clean in half when Namjoon tries to wrangle the tree down on Christmas Eve, after its obnoxious presence becomes too much for him to contend with. He watches the glass shatter to pieces at his feet, and grips more tightly onto the bottle in his hand.

Merry fucking christmas..

Namjoon takes another swig, to wash down the lump in his throat, and then another when that doesn't do anything except burn.

Everything he touches breaks. So maybe it's better this way. Maybe he's better off being lonely. Seokjin deserves so much more than this mess of teary eyes and broken glass, and he knows it.

Being in this apartment- or just being here at all, in any sense of the word - is suffocating. 

How has he not noticed it before? The bricked walls that make it feel so small, like it's closing in on him, like he's trapped inside of a maze and his lungs are slowly being crushed by the pressure of it all. It shouldn’t make it worse, but it does. Seokjin found his way out, he escaped. And he left Namjoon behind.

He gets more drunk over the course of the evening, driving himself damn near hysterical with loneliness. He dances to the silence, recklessly swinging the bottle in his hand like nothing matters anymore, and it’s not like anyone is going to try and convince him otherwise.

His head spins so much anyway, it barely makes a difference to him when he falls. Everything feels so far away, but he’s still surprised that the bottle in his hand doesn’t smash. He’s even more surprised when he pulls his other hand close to him, and discovers that it’s bleeding.

It's the broken ornament that he hadn’t even bothered to clean up, crushed further under the weight of his palm. It makes him want to cry. He doesn’t, though. Not yet. The only thing stopping him is the thought that maybe it would be silly, to cry over such a small thing, when there's so much more that's hurting him.

As his hand bleeds onto the once pristine rug, he just lies there in amazement, thinking about how quickly he's brought ruin to this place. How little everything means to him without Seokjin. And he hates himself when he realises how much he truly believes that he cannot live without him.

He wraps his hand in the bottom of his t-shirt in a half-assed attempt to staunch the bleeding just to stop it from further ruining the rug, as if he really cares what happens to it, and crawls to the bedroom to find something else to wear. And there it is, right under his bed. His heart tells him it’s fate, but his brain is too tired to accept that. He still wears it though.

He goes back out  as pitifully as he had entered, crawling over to the table to pick up his phone. It looks lonely. He clumsily scrolls down his contact list, with his good hand, and he doesn’t have to go far until he finds the one he's looking for.

When he calls Seokjin's number, surprise surprise, it goes straight to voicemail. And today, Namjoon is just too drunk to care what a fool he's making of himself, as he finally allows his eyes to fill with tears. He just needs him to hear him. He needs Seokjin to know.

"Hyung! ..Wow, you sure are b-busy a lot." He hiccups, laughing into the phone. "It's been a little while, hasn’t it.. How are you doing?” He pauses, waiting for an answer that could never come, and guffaws when he realises. “ Oh, me? I'm doing great! So great.. I miss you, though. I miss you a lot." He slurs pathetically, unable to tell if he’s laughing or sobbing down the line, as his cheeks soak with tears.

It doesn't feel real. not like talking to him always did. He's rambling, he knows it. He’s never been good at this kind of thing, at one sided conversations with people he knows he should be strong enough to leave alone. He carries on though, because it feels fake, inconsequential, and it seems like exactly what he needs right now. That's the miracle of alcohol, he guesses.

"Why aren't you here? Why did you have to go?" The bottle in his hand shakes enough for him to finally put it down, weary at the thought of breaking yet another thing tonight. "I love you," he tries, "..but then you already knew that, because.. you know.."

He looks down at his own chest, to Seokjin's hoodie swallowing him whole - he had found it under their- sorry, his bed, leftover from the purge, and had instantly put it on. He sank into it like a second skin, suffocating himself in its scent, breathing in the fabric like he hadn’t had air for days.

The tags are always missing from the back where Seokjin had cut them out, because he knows Namjoon has sensitive skin. Even though he had pretended to complain when Namjoon stole his clothing, he always made sure to cut the tags out. It was always the little things Seokjin did that got to Namjoon the most. Even now, it fills him with so much love, and so much grief. 

It’s so cold, even with the fire, even folded into the hoodie. It’s been cold all month. He could say he doesn't know why he called, but that would be a lie. There’s nothing else he can say. If he was sober, he’d know that there’s no way to fix this. Even drunk, he knows this was a bad idea.

"Merry Christmas, hyung." He hangs up the phone.

He makes a game of tossing scrunched up christmas cards and the few photographs he has left here into the fireplace, busying himself whilst he drains the dregs of his drink. A cold feeling of emptiness washes over him as he watches Seokjin's face singe and peel away from his own.

He doesn’t burn the scrap of wrapping paper. He needs it to look at every time he wakes up, because it never seems real, when there’s no one there beside him in the morning. Or the evening, because waking up early seems so overrated these days. That piece of paper is the most painful of all the things Seokjin left behind, and for some reason it’s the hardest thing for him to let go of.

Namjoon falls asleep right there on the sofa, bed too big and cold for just him, too drunk on sadness and vodka to care that he didn't put the fire out.

Crackles and spits find their way into his dreams, and Namjoon sighs softly as his mind is set ablaze with images of him and Seokjin. Roasting chestnuts over the warm fire. Stockings hung above them like medals proving that they made it. This is the Christmas he wanted so badly.

Everything is okay again for just a moment.

December 23rd/24th 2019

The thing about nightmares is sometimes they feel so real, you don’t know you’re in one until you wake up. And sometimes, you don’t wake up at all.

Namjoon shoots up from his bed, panting. Sweat rolls down his face from his hair, soaking his t-shirt despite the cold of Yoongi and Hoseok's spare room.

It sets in quickly enough, almost too quickly, until he can feel the ice on his skin, doing nothing to help the quickness of his heart. He holds his hand over his chest, willing it to slow down before he really starts panicking.

He tries to ground himself, clammy hands grabbing for his glasses and looking frantically around the room for something to focus on. 

He breathes deeply, determined to stay calm as he scrabbles for his phone and presses play on the first playlist he can find. He lets the music wash over him, concentrating on the external sounds, desperate to take his mind off from his own heart beat.

Next, he tries to concentrate more on his breathing, to get it back to normal again. The scent of the gingerbread incense comes over him gently, and he lets it soothe him as his breathing levels back out.

The first thing he sees when he looks up is the walls. The blank, intimidatingly white walls he hasn't bothered painting yet, despite living here for an entire fucking year now.

He tries not to focus on that too much right now, because he doesn’t want to get into an existential crisis whilst trying to pull himself out of the beginnings of a panic attack. So instead, he forces himself to pay attention to touch.

His bed sheets. They’re right there, the ones with the little crabs on them that Hoseok had bought him for his birthday. And his feet, yes. He can feel his toes wiggling. Safely under the bedding, where they should be.

Next is sight, but he doesn’t want to rely on his own senses to conjure up something that will calm him, because he has a sneaking suspicion of just who that would be.

Instead, he fixes his eyes on his lamp - It was from Jungkook. It’s pretty, a very thoughtful gift. It suits his style a lot, and he was beyond touched when he had received it. He will deny it until the day he dies, but he may have shed a tear or two, in awe at the consideration he must have put into it. There’s a lot of good in that lamp.  

He cherishes what few possessions he has here. Most were from his past birthday, his friends taking the liberty to furnish his room for him when it became clear he wasn't going to do it himself.

It sits on his bedroom table every night, because he feels like if it was completely dark his eyeballs would be more vulnerable to extraction by hungry closet monsters.

Although, he doesn't have a closet here.. and then..

He sees the cardboard box full of Seokjin's orphaned possessions that has been haunting Namjoon since he brought it back in here.

Namjoon sighs deeply, feeling much calmer and more unsettled all at once. He twists in bed to grab at his alarm clock and sighs again. Five A.M. It doesn't really matter what time it is, though.

If Namjoon could just skip the whole day, he would. He'd skip right past christmas and then, hell, maybe he'd just keep going. Right past new years too.

Sleep is its own unusual form of time travel though. And despite knowing he hasn't exactly personalised this room since being moved in, hasn't even tried to make himself feel like less of a guest here, this bed is the most familiar and comforting thing to him lately. It's practically a mould of his body at this point.

There isn't a single part of him that wants to leave it. Especially considering there's going to be a party here later and he's tired just thinking about it. All the smiles he'll have to force, all the people he hasn't seen in at least a year, and the possibility that they'll have questions about where he's been, and why he's not with Seokjin.. 

Maybe he'll just skip it. Sleep is more important. And his friends will understand, because they always understand.

Nobody will make him get up until later anyway. So, Namjoon indulges once more.

December 24th/25th 2018

Namjoon thinks he might be awake now, but his eyes are still glued shut, willing his dream to not slip away. Suddenly, it's cold again. The smell of smoke is gone, but the memory is stuck, coating his lungs. And he panics.

I haven't seen Seokjin hyung in a while..

When he opens his eyes the first time, he's in a hospital bed, alone. As his eyes adjust to the harsh brightness, he can see paper snowflakes stuck up on the windows. Out in the corridor there's a pitiful amount of tinsel draped along the wall over pictures scribbled with red and green pens, clearly made by children. He chuckles, vision blurring, before he closes his eyes again.

He sleeps as best as he can for a little while longer, but it isn’t exactly quiet here. He doesn’t feel tired anymore, and even though he has no idea what time it is, he thinks he must have slept for quite a while.

He still has his eyes closed, but he smiles when he hears soft footsteps approaching, before he can tell that Yoongi is there, leaning against the doorframe.

"You fucking idiot," he says softly.

He lets the sound of his voice wash over him, eyes still shut so he can bask in it. All the happy memories, all the good times it takes him back to. Like time travel.

"Hyung, do you remember last year?" Namjoon croaks out, paying no mind to the way his voice cracks. He has bigger things to worry about right now. Yoongi hums to urge him on. "When we went ice skating - You and me, and Jin hyung and Hobi."

Yoongi smiles at the memory. Hoseok had taken off instantly, skating circles around everyone else, looking like a professional, whilst it had been so hard to convince Namjoon to even step into the rink. Until Seokjin had grabbed his hand tightly, and he just decided to brave it.

It had been going so well at first. Seokjin didn't let go of him, even for a second, and they went steadily around the side of the rink, with Namjoon clinging onto the rail for his life. Soon enough, they were skating without the hold on the rail, and he was actually pretty good at it. Until they had to go uphill, and he lost all his confidence.

Which was when Yoongi decided that despite Namjoon’s frantic protests it was a good idea to grab his other hand and just pull him up the slope.

He can still see Yoongi lying there, flat on his back whilst the others tried to stifle their laughs. And Namjoon really felt so bad for laughing along, but since he’s the kind of person who laughs at funerals, this was beyond hopeless. Yes.. It was a troubling time for them all.

"I thought I'd killed you, hyung." Namjoon deadpans, and Yoongi snorts. Namjoon had spent so much time reading the warning signs on the walls whilst the others skated, much to their chagrin, but as it turns out the rule against holding hands with two people at the same time isn't there just for shits and giggles. To this day it hurts Yoongi's back just to think about it.

"Why are you thinking about that now, Joon-ah?"

His memories of those days are all of smiles and warmth. Why can’t you ever know how good something is when you’re there, living it? He feels like he took so much of it for granted. He can still feel the warmth of Seokjin’s hand in his own. Maybe if he knew, he could have made it all last longer. Maybe it wouldn’t have ended like this.

"..We were happy." Yoongi clenches his fists like can sense the question that's about to come from Namjoon’s downturned lips. "What's wrong with me, hyung?"

Yoongi exhales heavily, impatient with someone, yes, but never Namjoon. "You already know the answer to that. There is nothing wrong with you. Commitment scares people, but if you love someone enough, you take the risk."

Namjoon doesn't want to meet his eye.

"I should have waited.."

"No. He should have waited," Yoongi spits bitterly, and then starts rummaging in his pocket for something.

"Where is he even living? He didn't have a home that's why- " Namjoon cuts himself off with a somewhat painful realisation. "Maybe that's why he lived with me."

Yoongi frowns. "That wasn't why he lived with you. He could have got his own place.. He wanted to live with you because he loved you"

Namjoon laughs darkly. "Emphasis on the past tense.."

“I didn’t mean- Look, Namjoon-ah..” Yoongi steps closer, trying to get Namjoon to at least make eye contact with him. "I didn’t mean that. The point is, he would have found somewhere else to go before if that’s what he wanted. Like he’s found a place now. But, if it will give you peace of mind, then don’t take my word for it.” He passes his phone over to Namjoon, holding it out until he takes it, frowning in confusion.

The picture is of Seokjin, smiling brightly for the camera, inside a house Namjoon doesn't recognise. His eyes linger for far too long, trying to memorise every part of Seokjin’s face, from every day that has passed since he hasn’t been able to see it. He hasn’t changed much, if at all, but it still breaks Namjoon’s heart to think about what he might have missed.

When he scrolls down a bit more, absentmindedly chewing on his cheek, he sees more pictures of Seokjin, some alone, and some with other people who Namjoon has never seen before.

This is Seokjin's instagram? How has he never seen it before? How has he never looked for it?

He keeps scrolling, until his eyes are drawn to one picture in particular. It's a selfie of Seokjin at the park, orange leaves fallen in the background behind him as he stands in an adorable knitted alpaca bobble hat that Namjoon doesn’t recognise, grinning in front of a brilliantly pink sunset. The caption sits simple beneath it.

"i hope ur happy too."

Namjoon smiles weakly. He has no way of really knowing who Seokjin is referring to, but something like hope bubbles in his stomach.

He keeps scrolling quickly, conscious of giving Yoongi back his phone, or being caught in the embarrassing act of full-on stalking his ex's social media account, (even if Yoongi had given him the oppertunity,) when he reaches another picture of Seokjin. One that makes him stumble.

It stops him dead in his tracks. This time, Seokjin has his hand out, showcasing a pretty ring on his finger. Namjoon’s tongue goes completely dry. His heart thuds dully under his hospital gown. 

His hand shakes as he looks numbly at the comments, starting to scroll without thinking about it, like his thumb is possessed.

He's clicking on one user, whose comment features both the word 'babe' and a number of sickly sweet emojis, before he can even think about it.

Jimin.

The man's name is Jimin.

His thumb is speeding down the screen before he can stop it, eyes widening in horror as he takes in all of their many cute pictures together in disbelief, when a hand lands on his shoulder, and he jumps.

Hoseok stretches down to see what he's looking at and frowns. "Are you trying to make yourself sad?"

At that, Yoongi comes around to look too, and winces. "I just wanted to show you that he’s doing okay. I didn't want you to feel bad about it, Namjoon. But look, he has people. It's okay for you to move on from him and be happy now, too."

Hoseok looks between them in confusion. "You showed him that? Hyung, he's literally in a hospital right now because he had a psychotic break and burned his house down."

Yoongi screws his nose up. "If you’re trying to side with him, you’re not doing a very good job of it." Namjoon was thinking the same thing, and would have said so, if he didn't think his heart would fall out of his mouth.

He manages to muster up a couple of words, although his tongue still feels numb, and he isn’t much in the mood for talking. “I didn’t have a psychotic break, Hoseok-ah.. I just fell asleep.”

Yoongi turns to Namjoon, with a smile that makes him look a little bit like a frog. "I'm sorry Joon-ah. The last thing I wanted to do was upset you.. but I hope maybe now you’ve seen that Seokjin hyung is doing okay, it can give you some closure? If he’s allowed to move on, then you definitely are."

He sounds bitter, probably blames Seokjin for this too, Namjoon thinks.

"Joon-ah, I'm sorry too. I shouldn’t have said that. It was insensitive of me.." Hobi scratches his head, gesturing to the door. "Listen, I'm gonna go back to ours and grab a couple of things, but I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

Namjoon nods down at his clasped hands, and Hoseok advances on him in a second. "Hey," he scolds, slipping a hand under Namjoon's chin. "Head up."

Namjoon meets his eye and gives him a watery smile.

Hoseok has been gone for a few minutes when Yoongi breaks the comfortable silence, gently, like scissors gliding through wrapping paper.

"I was the one who found you, Namjoon. Do you remember that? You know why you’re in here.. So do you remember that?" Namjoon's mouth parts in surprise, and a feeling like a sinking rock courses through him. He shakes his head.

"I thought- Namjoon, there was broken glass everywhere, and the smoke.. Jesus,” he buries his face in his hand, taking a deep breath before he looks up again and continues. “I was shaking you, and you were barely awake, and you told me to leave you there.. and-" Yoongi's voice cracks beneath the perfect composure of his face. "I said-"

"You said.. That if I died there, then you were gonna die there with me," Namjoon finishes, the memory crashing through him like waves eroding a cliff. Oh god. He feels like he's drowning. Nausea ripples through him, sending chills over his body. "I'm so sorry, hyung, but it wasn’t.. I didn’t want to-” He sighs, cutting himself off, attempts at an excuse dying on his lips. “You should never have had to say that."

Yoongi makes an odd, guttural sound in his throat, and then coughs to cover it up. "I'm just so glad I was there at all, Namjoon. What if I had got there half an hour later? What if I hadn’t gone at all. God.. I don't know what I would have done if.. If.."

Namjoon is shocked for a moment. He can remember Yoongi waking him, and him shrugging him off. He can remember being hauled out of the house, standing groggily out on the icy cold streets with his shoes magically on his feet. He remembers being in and out of consciousness in a car after that. And if Yoongi thinks he did this on purpose.. He doesn’t know what he can say to convince him otherwise. Oh god. He knows how it looks, but he didn’t mean to. He really didn’t.

“Listen, Yoongi. I didn’t-”

A soft knock on the door pops their little, intimate bubble as they both look up to see who it is.

A middle aged man with glasses, and a young woman with a clipboard step into the room. "Hello, Kim Namjoon? We'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's okay?" Namjoon stalls for a second, brain taking a moment to process the words and shake away his previous horror, before he responds, inviting them nearer with a nod.

"Would you mind stepping out of the room for a few minutes?" The woman directs the question to Yoongi, before whipping her head back to Namjoon, ponytail swinging behind her. "Unless-"

"-I'd like it if he could stay." Namjoon tries, and she nods kindly. His shoulders sag in relief he didn’t know he needed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hoseok comes back with the clothes a little while later, and waits outside the room for the staff to finish up. He tries to talk loudly, over the voices, in his head - not intending to intrude.

Namjoon had turned up in just a hoodie - no prizes for guessing whose, and no jeans at all - something polite society tends to frown upon. Hoseok took the hoodie back with him, folding it neatly into the box of Seokjin's stuff, before hiding it in the back of his and Yoongi's wardrobe.

He found Namjoon's clothes in their apartment easily, everything neat and clean and tidy - despite Yoongi's quietly chaotic input - and decided to forego the jeans in favour of his fuzzy koala pyjama pants.

The thought of having to drag the rough, coarse fabric of jeans up his legs was enough to thoroughly exhaust Hoseok, so he couldn't imagine Namjoon would have been too thrilled either.

He also gathered one of Yoongi's too-big t-shirts, and a fleece hoodie from his own collection, hoping to provide some sort of familiar comfort before finally, he could head back. He was just glad that Yoongi had the presence of mind to put shoes on Namjoon's feet before dragging him out of his burning apartment into the cold, damp night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Why did you do it?" She leans forwards, pen ready on the paper in her lap.

"It was cold," he tells her honestly, and she looks up abruptly.

"So, it wasn't on purpose?"

"No, I didn’t mean to leave the fire burning.. It was just so cold." Namjoon chokes, eyes glossing over from the lack of oxygen, and then he's into a coughing fit, spluttering and gasping to catch his breath. When he does, it’s Yoongi’s eyes he looks up to meet, trying to convey his sincerity in every word. "I swear, I didn't mean to."

Yoongi half smiles at him, and nods, and it calms some of the whirlwind inside Namjoon’s chest.

"Okay, then. Do you have someone you can stay with tonight?" She looks slightly troubled, her hand has ceased it's hovering, like she has nothing else to write, and now she simply searches his face for the answers she needs to appease her professional concern.

Namjoon is lost, tongue falling over itself trying to look for something to say.

"He's staying with us," Yoongi says firmly.

Hoseok chooses that moment to return, clothes stacked up high in his arms, and smiles brightly at Namjoon in particular, though his sunshine beams to every corner of the room. "Yeah! We have the spare bedroom, and half of your stuff is in there anyway. So why not?"

Namjoon feels bad. This Christmas is to Yoongi and Hoseok what it should have been for him and Seokjin; A first. And it's far too new for their unhinged best friend to now be there with them. Even though they've all been friends for years this is different, he's intruding on their space, whilst they're having to babysit.

And yet Yoongi isn’t scared. And Hoseok doesn't seem put off at all. In fact, they won’t seem to take no for an answer. Yoongi has always had excellent taste in people. Hoseok has always had excellent taste full-stop.

Namjoon knows he always has a home with them.

December 25th 2018

He showers when they get back, trying to rid himself of all the stale smoke and hospital smell. He's just about nodded off standing up when Hoseok cracks the door open, and asks if he's okay.

"I'm good, Hobi." And, well, they both know that isn't true. But Namjoon shuts the water off and peeks out from behind the curtain, and smiles at Hoseok, and Hoseok smiles right back.

It’s enough.

Namjoon makes a wish that night for Seokjin to be happy. He smiles as wide as he can with tears streaming down his face, though his body aches with loneliness and longing. "I hope you're happy too." He can barely breathe, it hurts so bad. He just forces himself to laugh through the pain, so at least he can blame the way his body shakes on something else for a moment.

He tries to stay out of Hoseok and Yoongi's way the next day, puts on a grin trying to seem happy when he inevitably sees them, but he's shattered inside. He regrets that drunken voicemail most of all, knowing now how stupid it was. It's so hard to make it leave his mind.

His phone was in his hand at some point, but then there was the fire, so it's probably still lying there in his apartment. He won't go back for it. Not for his phone or anything else. It wouldn't be worth it. It's all ashes to him now anyway.

They drink with dinner. 

It’s fine. Everything is going well at first. Jungkook is here, he came over at the last minute. Namjoon is glad that he doesn’t have to feel like a third wheel, but at the same time he knows Jungkook probably had somewhere else he was supposed to be tonight. He feels bad, because he’s not even capable of providing very good company right now. 

He remembers previous years, where Jungkook and Seokjin would be messing about together, because they’re both just big children when they’re around each other. And Namjoon, sitting beside Seokjin, would inevitably catch an elbow or two in the rib. He can still feel the pain of it even all this time later. What he wouldn’t give for an elbow in the rib right now.

Namjoon has always loved christmas music. Not as much as Seokjin, who seemed to know the words to every single song.. But he always loved it when it got to the time of year where christmas music is all you hear in the stores, and on the streets, and at the houses of everyone you visit. It hasn’t been until this year that it really hit him how sad all of these songs are. 

Christmas is always put across as being such a magical time, but it’s misery for so many people. Namjoon knows how lucky he is to not be alone today. He’s been alone at christmas before. Not like he would have been this year, though. Knowing what it’s like to spend it with someone who truly loves you is something he wishes he could forget. It just hurts too bad. If it wasn’t for his friends, he probably wouldn’t be here this christmas at all.

With that thought in mind, Namjoon has another glass of wine. He doesn’t need hindsight to know that it’s a bad idea. 

What's worse is he has to ask Jungkook to pass the bottle across the table, and before he does, he says "Are you sure, hyung?" with those wide bambi eyes that Namjoon can’t look away from, even though he knows the others are looking at him now too.

He manages to brush it off a moment later though, once he has the bottle in his hand.

Later on in the evening, he’s caught off guard when he gets a dad joke in his cracker, terrible enough that it has him laughing so hard he weeps, and he has to be excused - the others all watching after him in concerned bewilderment as he flees from the table.

Namjoon runs for the bathroom with tears streaming down his face, loud sobs that he can't hold back now, hysteria setting in too quick for him to stop it before it’s turning into nausea and he clutches himself tightly, willing himself to stay held together. 

He collapses to his knees against the tile floor, dry retching, lungs heaving for breath in between. His skull feels like it’s trying to crush his brain, but he still can’t stop the tears from coming, or the nausea and chills that wrack his helpless body.

When his saviour finally comes, it comes in the form of a nosebleed, the shock of bright red jolting him out of his panic, and everything else that had come with it. He concentrates on trying to stop the bleeding instead, and somehow it helps him to calm down, even as he curses himself for being so pathetic. He slumps down against the wall when he's done, fingers shaking and blood stained, too tired to hold himself up.

He’s so hastily put together. There’s so little of himself there to present to the world once he leaves his room. Held together with glue sticks and messy stitches.. It would be far too easy and predictable for him to just fall apart at the seams. It’ll happen eventually, if he keeps on getting worn down like this, without ever truly making an effort to repair himself. 

He doesn’t want to come back from this though. Not right now. He doesn’t want to imagine a day he isn’t heartbroken and yearning. There’s only one thing he wants to fill the hole in his heart with. And if he can’t, and he knows that he can’t, then he wants to keep living miserably, just like this.

He hears the door knob rattle, and normally it would make him jump, but the wine seems to have soaked up a lot of the panic from his bones. He listens blearily when there's a few uncertain knocks.

"Namjoon hyung? Are you okay?" Namjoon lays his sweaty head against the wall and smiles weakly at the sound of Jungkook's voice.

His friends are all so sweet. He wishes so much that he could be better to them. Especially the youngest. He’s his hyung, and Namjoon should be looking after him. He wishes Jungkook didn't have to see him like this. He's such a mess right now.. And he doesn’t deserve the kindness, because he knows he doesn’t really want to fix it.

"I'm fine," he manages eventually. "I'll be out in a second."

He can feel Jungkook linger there unsurely for a moment, before he finally walks away. Namjoon lets out a sigh of relief. Somehow it takes so much energy even pretending to sound okay. The marrow in his bones aches with the weight of it.

It ends up taking him a lot longer than a second to gather the mental strength needed to even think about getting up.

But that's okay.

Jungkook smiles at him when he comes in. Namjoon sees the worry in his eyes and pretends that doesn’t break his heart. He does his best to smile back and not think about how different this is than he had wanted it to be.  

He grabs a drink - not alcohol this time - and sits beside him, because despite his broken heart he loves his friends and wants to try and make the best of this day with them. The ones who chose to stay.

Whilst everyone else is up and saying their goodbyes at the door, Namjoon is being swallowed into the couch, buried in blankets, eyes barely staying open. At that moment, Last Christmas decides that it’s the perfect moment to start playing. He surprises himself by not crying, a tiny cynical smile creeping over his lips instead.  

He thinks he’d prefer to cry. It scares him that he doesn’t. It feels numb, and maybe it’s just because he’s already done so much of it today, but part of him is scared that he’ll never be able to cry again. 

January 1st 2019

On new years Yoongi and Hoseok convince him to come out with them and Jungkook, to a club that they normally wouldn’t go to, but it just doesn't feel the same. Even though he’s never been here before, it still doesn’t feel right. It’s like he’s upsetting a memory. There's someone missing. It's blatantly obvious. And the reminder just hurts more than being alone.

He’s adamantly against dancing and having fun. He’s buttoned up to his neck in case someone thinks to do so much as glance in his direction. He’s not exactly spoken for anymore, but his heart still belongs to Seokjin, whether he wants it or not.

He sits at the bar, sipping on a lemonade, and watches his friends dance. He had made a promise to Jungkook he wouldn’t drink his feelings away anymore, and even though new years is a socially acceptable time to drink, he knows he’d still be thinking about Seokjin. 

It’s always harder to stop once he starts, than to not start at all. The last couple of times he’s been drunk haven’t gone so well, and he doesn’t want to make tonight about him.

So he just watches them.

Seeing Jungkook messing about, speaking in silly voices, dancing circles around Hoseok and Yoongi, wearing a fucking santa hat.. getting a little too off his head as he denies ever even having a second glass of wine, Namjoon promises himself he will do better for them.

Seeing Hoseok and Yoongi share a sweet but passionate kiss as the clock strikes twelve, he smiles softly and raises his glass to their health and happiness, even though all he really wants to do is sneak away and cry.

This year, he vows just to try.

He’ll try to live for them.

And maybe one day, even if it's years and years away from now, he'll be able to live for himself too.

14th April 2019

Namjoon doesn’t know what’s come over him. He just woke up this morning with a surge of adrenaline, and a need to do something . Something proactive. He’s sick of that box sitting in the middle of his half empty room like it’s a fucking focal point. He’s sick of how often his eyes fall on it every day. It can’t be doing his mental health any good to have a ghost sitting in the middle of his bedroom.

And when it comes down to it, that’s all the box is. A shadow. Just a sickening reminder of the way things should have been. Of the way things are not. Seeing it here, in this spare room where no light can get in or get out again, it’s such an insulting juxtaposition to the bright and happy life they used to share, and he can’t bear it anymore. 

He’s sick to death of being haunted.

He could put it back in Hoseok and Yoongi’s room, but even having it in the apartment messes with his head. In a disturbing way, it’s like he’s drawn to it. Wherever it is hidden in this place, eventually he’ll find it, and it’ll end up back in his room again, whether he likes it or not. He’s addicted to it, and he can’t think in the haze it brings with it. It needs to be gone.

Going to Seokjin’s apartment is an impulsive decision, but it’s a very necessary one too. It pisses him off how much of his own stuff was destroyed in the fire when he still has an entire box of Seokjin's sitting there just mocking him, because he was good enough to bring it over here first. He wasn't even wearing his own clothes that night. All he has from before is what was already at Hoseok and Yoongi’s. It pisses him off how much he still values Seokjin over himself.

It hurts a lot as well, to know that Seokjin isn’t doing what Namjoon is doing. Of course he already knows he’s moved on, he’s seen the pictures after all.. But what gets to him is that Seokjin wasn’t left alone to an empty husk of a house. He wasn’t left surrounded by memories, unwashed clothes, and crumpled bed sheets. He got a clean break. He just took what he wanted, and that was that. 

It must have been nice. To have a choice.

So, he's on his way there. With the box. He's done this too many times already, moving this box back and forth. He still isn't sure if he's gonna just leave it outside Seokjin’s flat or if he's gonna knock, and talk to him. He hasn't spoken with him in almost half a year now. The thought puts the worst kind of butterflies in his stomach. He isn't sure if it would hurt less or more to see him again but he isn’t exactly looking forward to finding out. 

Their friend group has pretty much been severed in half. He knows Hoseok and Yoongi still speak to Seokjin now and then, but it had really soured stuff with them too. Especially at the beginning. So in the custody battle, you could say Namjoon won Yoongi and Hoseok. He's grateful for that every day. 

He sneaked Seokjin’s new address from the phone book they like to keep, because they think it's cute and domestic. Nevermind the obvious security flaws. He isn’t normally one for snooping, but in this case, he felt like it was important. That’s probably the same justification anyone else would use too. His motivations are selfish, he’ll admit it.

He’s never been here before. Last year initially, he had assumed Seokjin ran back to his family, which was hard to blame him for. But after seeing his instagram, it seemed a lot like he had just ran into the arms of someone else. Namjoon still doesn’t blame him for it. He thinks if he started actively hating Seokjin, he would lose whatever is left of himself in bitterness and just shrivel up into nothing one day.

He decides to just leave the box there in front of his door because he isn’t at all prepared to face him right now. He made this journey on pure adrenaline and now that he’s actually here, he’s rapidly realising that it isn’t enough to carry him through, his anxiety rapidly catching up to him. He puts his hands in his pockets and starts down the hall, when he hears a door open and close behind him.

He doesnt turn around, hoping very very much that it's any other door than the one he was just standing at. He tenses, drawing his shoulder up to his neck, and hopes to god that he makes it to the stairs.

“Namjoon-ah?”

Shit.

He turns around, a hand coming up to pull at the back of his hair to brace himself as he comes face to face with the man he loves more than anything in this world for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I was just leaving.”

“What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?”

It stings. Just a little. “Don’t worry, I’m not stalking you or anything.” He gestures to the box. “Those are your things.”

He shakes his head, taking a step away from it. “I don’t want it.”

Namjoon sighs. “Why don’t you sell it then?”

“I thought you would want that stuff back, that’s why I didn’t come and get it. Half of it you bought for me anyway,” he shrugs, eyes looking past Namjoon.

“I know,” he says, thinking about the Last Christmas vinyl he’d bought for him, from a man selling records out of the back of his car. Thinking about how Seokjin had listened to it every season after that, seeming never to grow tired of it. He wonders how many times Seokjin has listened to it since then. If he can’t bring himself to anymore. “Usually people keep gifts.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to sigh now. “Namjoon-ah.. I can’t do this right now.”

That’s funny. So funny, in fact, that Namjoon finds himself laughing out loud. “Why the hell would I want a constant reminder of this mess? Really. You’re really returning the gifts I gave you when I brought them all the way over here?”

“Look,” he says, locking up without ever even looking at the box. “We can do this another day or something, you can call me first, and we can talk about it then. But right now, there’s somewhere I have to be and I can’t spend all day talking in the hallway with you, okay?”

Calling him first? That’s rich. Like he picked up a single call from Namjoon back when he had the chance. His blood boils in his veins at the frustration in Seokjin's voice. 

He's really just a pesky stranger to him now. To think, there was a time that Namjoon had thought they were soulmates. 

“You can’t just take the box inside? So I don’t have to carry it back again?”

“We need to set boundaries, Namjoon-ah. You shouldn’t have come here. Not without telling me first. I didn't ask for this,” he gestures to the box. Listen, I really need to go now, alright?” He looks distant, avoiding Namjoon’s eyes. It’s so.. wrong.

He was the one who called his name. Namjoon was never supposed to see him.

“Yep,” he says, short and clipped, trying to keep the tears from welling up. His throat feels so tight, when Seokjin brushes past him and disappears down the stairwell without so much as another word. He must really have been in a rush. “Okay.”

Namjoon listens to the song afterwards, when he gets home with the box still in his possession. He listens to it until his brain is starting to melt, until eventually, Yoongi walks in. “Not again,” he mutters at the doorway, before coming over and sitting down beside him. “Do you ever think that giving him this song was a bit of a self fulfilling prophecy?”

Namjoon smiles, recounting the same thing that Yoongi already knows and has heard a thousand times by now. “He loved this song. He was still listening to it last April.”

“I know.”

Namjoon nods, and then turns to Yoongi, squinting at him. “Hyung?”

“What is it, Joon-ah? I know that look,” he says, voice filling with suspicion as his eyes narrow dangerously. “What are you thinking about?”

Namjoon smiles at him, then looks down to his fist, opening it to reveal the engagement ring balanced in his palm. 

“I’m thinking about getting my nipples pierced.”

June 10th 2019

It isn't until later in the year that he realises that things aren't starting to go to shit after all. It's just that they never stopped.

Hoseok sits him down when he comes out of his bedroom, and Yoongi hands him a mug of coffee, and his stomach drops in anticipation of whatever horrifying thing they need to talk about to him.

"He said he couldn't do it.. I'm sorry, Joonie." Hoseok's eyes are wide and sad, grip tight around Namjoon's hand to offer as much support as possible.

Namjoon's eyes drift across the room to where Seokjin's box sits, still full, and a little bit worse for wear than the last time he had seen it. He shrugs. "It's okay. At least no one died, or anything."

"We can get rid of it straight away, seriously - hyung has a list of charity shops up on his phone, we're doing our research first, of course, because ethics, and we need to know who gets the most and who gets the least, and then we-"

"-Hoseok!" Namjoon laughs, flipping the hold on his hands and smoothing his thumbs over his skin. "I said it's fine! There's no hurry, really! I don't mind it being here."

Hoseok looks hesitant. He glances across to Yoongi, sharing his concern. "..Are you sure?"

Yoongi scoots closer. "Do you want to take anything from the box or-"

Namjoon laughs at that, again. He sets down his mug, and stands. "No, you guys do what you think is best. I've moved on. I tried to get rid of that thing months ago. If he really doesn't want it, then.." He shrugs, smiling. "I'm okay!"

He's back in his bedroom before Hoseok nor Yoongi can get in another word, and they're even more puzzled than they were before they tried to talk to him. Hoseok’s eyes linger on Namjoon's bedroom door long after it shuts, until he can finally bring himself to break his stare. He turns to Yoongi. "See, that just doesn't seem okay to me."

Namjoon is not okay.

He got the nipple piercings partially because he thought impulsivity would snap him out of his funk, which was weird because impulsivity put him in the funk in the first place, but.. His other motivation was to force himself into practising self care. It kind of worked, but only because he's scared of infection. Still, he has his cleanliness, and both of his nipples. It’s good enough for him.

He'd be lying if he said he hasn't been thinking about Seokjin. Getting a couple of piercings was never going to “fix” that. Especially since he paid for them with money he got from the engagement ring. 

It isn't healthy, the way he’s been trying to push the thoughts away instead of facing them head on. He isn’t dealing with it properly, not if he can be brought back to square one at the mere sound of his name.

A lot of days, he spends most of his time thinking about how it's all been wasted. It’s ironic, but it also makes a lot of sense to him. Every day he's not with someone he loves is pointless, and even when he is, all he's thinking about is how there is someone missing.

He knows that isn't fair to his friends. He knows at some point he'll have to start moving on. It's not fair, though. Not when he thought he already had.

It feels like falling through a trapdoor and having to start the maze all over again when he realises he hasn't moved on at all.

He's just been waiting to be eaten by the minotaur.

October 31st 2018

Seokjin looks like he walked straight out of a catalogue tonight. They're both bundled up in their big coats, and Seokjin is wearing his glasses because it's late and he’s already taken his contacts out. He's effortlessly beautiful. With his black hair, fluffy and shiny, and his woolen grey scarf wound around his neck. He couldn’t look bad if he tried.

Namjoon finds himself hanging back just to admire him. 

He looks all cozy and it makes Namjoon want to snuggle up inappropriately close to him once Seokjin notices that he isn't right next to him anymore and gets a confused look on his face. 

Instead, he holds back until Seokjin comes and gets him, turning fully towards him a few feet away. His face is illuminated by the street lamps, sky slowly getting darker behind him. 

Seokjin thinks he's cold when he brushes up against him, but secretly he just wants to be as close as he can. Still, when it comes he happily accepts the fixing of the collar of his coat, embracing the sensation of Seokjin's finger sliding along his neck, even though he has to move away from him a little bit.

They're coming back from the store, where they were buying last minute sweets for the trick or treaters since they had accidentally eaten through the ones they bought last week. Seeing the young ones all dressed up cutely, hanging off from their parents arms as they skip down the autumnal streets.. it warms his heart. He reaches out slowly, and laces his fingers through Seokjin’s, bringing his hand back along with his own, and hides it in his pocket for safe-keeping.

Seokjin loves halloween. He starts celebrating it in September, and gets giddy about it even sooner. They watch scary films and spooky animations all season, drinking hot chocolate and cider as a tradition.

They have the fire on and fluffy socks, lounging on the couch walking kids movies, because scary is too scary for them both on a night like this. It’s not even 8am, but the two of them are a little tipsy. Just enough to feel soft and fuzzy, curled up together, and feeling like they’re on the exact same wavelength.

"I'm gonna make hot chocolate. You want some?" Seokjin lilts, voice as warm as his offer, running a palm over Namjoon’s thigh.

"If you’re having some," Namjoon says, knocking his leg against Seokjin before he pushes himself up, walking away much too fast for his liking. After Seokjin leaves, it’s instantly much too cold, even with the roaring fire.

Namjoon quickly decides it's too creepy to stay out here alone. He only made it worse when he decided to pause their PG movie and the silence embedded itself in his skin. Not a good idea at all, especially with alcohol in his system. He’s never stood up faster in his life.

That's how he finds himself a few seconds later, wrapping his arms around Seokjin's waist whilst he’s stood at the stove, heating a saucepan of milk. Seokjin jumps, almost knocking the pan off the counter as he brings his hand up to clutch at the front of his shirt. "Oh, god. You scared me!"

Namjoon nuzzles his face into Seokjin’s shoulder, sinking into the cushiony fabric. "I miss you."

"I'm right here," Seokjin laughs, and Namjoon only holds on tighter.

"Come back. Please."

There’s a strange sort of silence between them, dizzying and surreal. Until it's broken by the sound of the door being knocked on. Seokjin breaks away to go and open it. Namjoon stands and watches him, thinkingly.

He has always been so good with kids. Knows the best candy to buy, the best things to say. He compliments their outfits and makes them laugh and makes sure they get their favorite candy. He talks so kindly to their parents too. It all makes Namjoon's heart feel safe and at home.

They say you shouldn't marry someone until you've seen how they act in every situation. Namjoon has never seen Seokjin act in a way that he hates in any situation, and they’ve been in quite a few together now. He always seems to stay so collected and himself around Namjoon.

He’s always been so good.

October 31st 2019

Namjoon isn't sure how he feels about halloween these days.

He doesn't get out much anymore, but tonight he’s at the store, because he realised at the last second that he needs more variety of candy in case any kids come to the door. He doesn’t know how many families live in Yoongi’s and Hoseok’s apartment block.

He will probably also be eating a fair amount of candy himself tonight. So with his future self in mind, the little walk he took to the store was a very good idea. A last ditch attempt at preserving a modicum of good health before the new year. Because if he’s being realistic.. he’s not going to get out again before the new year.

At least it's an appropriate day to wallow by eating sweets. His favourite kinds of days as of late. He deserves this, he thinks as he scours the halloween aisle, trying to choose which types of kind of candy he should get. There isn’t much selection left this late in the day, because they’re clearing the aisle away making room for the next holiday.

Christmas is already invading it.

There are a couple of decorations and some sad looking tinsel at the end of the aisle, waiting for the moment they can finally move in. He thinks about what Seokjin would have said if he saw how early this stuff is up, outraged at the blatant disrespect, and catches himself smiling. It makes him feel even worse when he realises.

Before he knows it, his feet have carried him over to the display, and he finds himself looking over the small collection of things. One thing in particular catches his eye. It’s a lone plastic christmas tree, two dimensional, and tacky as hell. It looks like it was probably in the storage cupboard, left over from the late 80’s, collecting dust until someone saw it and thought why not put it back on the shelf. Something about it calls to him, like there’s already a kinship between them.

He knows how much Seokjin would disapprove of this.. Maybe he should wait. But then again, it’s not like the echoes of what Seokjin thinks should have any bearing on what Namjoon does anymore. It’s his life now. He picks it up, turning it over to inspect it more closely. It says Merry Christmas on both sides, slightly misaligned in a way that tugs at his heart. He notices a switch underneath it, and flips it. When the tree lights up blue, Namjoon shakes his head and grins.

He’s too distracted to hear the footsteps until they’re already rounding his aisle. Someone laughs, sweet and melodic, almost falling headfirst into the halloween display. Namjoon winces to himself, from behind the comfort of a conveniently placed battery stand. 

Okay.. Maybe he’s a little more out of practise with the real world than he thought if his unconscious reaction to an unexpected sound is to hide from it. In his defense, he has spent the last ten months holed up in a box room. The fact that it was by choice is irrelevant.

Another laugh comes from the man on the phone, drawing Namjoon’s attention back over to him. When he sees his face, he squints, trying to decide whether or not his eyes are deceiving him.

The man is smiling brightly as he runs his fingers over halloween costumes, throwing his head back every now and then to laugh, knees buckling with the force of his humour. Namjoon gulps, ducking further behind the stand.

It’s Jimin. 

With his phone held up to his ear, if Namjoon looks a little closer, he can see the ring on his finger.

It's a beautiful ring. A bigger stone on it than the one he bought Seokjin. It would be a serious insult to Seokjin's character to say he saw the size of the ring and ran, but Namjoons' hurt mind thinks it for a moment anyway.

There's a lump growing rapidly in his throat. 

He's talking to someone, with a smile so big it looks like it might hurt, promising he'll be home soon. He has a feeling he knows who’s on the other line.

Namjoon wants to cry, but he can't here. But he’s scared he’ll be too numb later, and will get stuck with these feelings, with no hope for release. He just has to hope Jimin leaves the aisle quickly.. It would be too much embarrassment to live with if he were to catch him now, like this.

He probably doesn't even know who Namjoon is, let alone what he looks like. Still, this isn't a good look on him. And he can’t chance him seeing him, and then finding out later, either. It would just complicate things.

Seokjin has moved on, and Namjoon already knew that. So why does it hurt this bad?

Maybe because Jimin is so much more beautiful in real life, than any of those pictures managed to put across. Namjoon thinks he might be able to see an honest-to-god halo floating over the top of his head. He keeps watching him, knees and heart both aching, until finally he leaves again.

Namjoon lets out the biggest sigh of relief of his entire life.

You know you've hit a new low when you're crouching on the dirty floor behind a battery display at the end of the holiday aisle, clutching a light up plastic tree to your chest on October 31st, because you don't want your ex boyfriends fiance to see you there even though you're 96% sure that he doesn’t know what you look like anyway.

He buys the tree.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He can hear Yoongi and Hoseok chatting and laughing with halloween music playing in the living room. He came in here as soon as he got in, and didn't want to disturb them because they seemed like they were having fun. So he’s just been lying on his side in silence, with his hands nestled neatly between his thighs. Just looking at the plastic tree on his bedside table like he’s been doing all night.

He was right before. He waited too long, and now he’s too numb to cry his feelings out. It’s like they’re stuck, lodged at the base of his throat, and behind his eyes. It never seems to be a good thing these days, him being right.

“Hey, Namjoon-ah. We were going to watch a movie, do you want to joi-” Yoongi’s words stop in his throat when his eyes fall on the little christmas tree on Namjoon’s table. Hoseok budges gently past him, and once his eyes fall on it too, his forehead wrinkles up in confusion.

" Hey.. buddy.. you got a christmas tree? You got your holidays mixed up?" Hoseok inspects the little plastic thing, poking it with the very end of his finger, as if it’s some alien object, unfathomable to see on halloween.

Namjoon sighs internally, switching his attention to Yoongi, who is determinedly checking the calendar on the back of the door. "No Seok-ah look, he crossed today off."

Hoseok strides over to the door, leaning in to check for himself. He sighs. "Maybe he started counting too early or something and that’s just where he left off, I don't know!"

"Well why don't you just ask him then, instead of screaming at me about it."

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and tries to tune out their bickering. At least until he is directly addressed again.

Hoseok sighs at Yoongi, and then turns to Namjoon with a big grin on his face. "Hey Namjoon, what's with the christmas tree?"

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, and resists the urge to sigh. "I just saw it in the store and thought I'd get a headstart on christmas this year. That okay with you? I thought you liked christmas."

"We do.. but this is even earlier than last year. Next year you're gonna be celebrating in June," Yoongi laughs, elbowing Hoseok who laughs too.

When they notice Namjoon isn’t laughing their faces drop. Namjoon forces a smile. "It's just a day earlier than last year. I'm not going to the store tomorrow.." He hopes they won't say anything, and they can pretend that they’re not all thinking about Seokjin.

They exchange a look with each other, before Hoseok winces. "Sorry."

He shakes his head, and looks at his tree. "It’s okay." They don't look convinced. They usually don’t. He sighs. He knows they have the best of intentions, and he loves them for it, he really does, but sometimes he wishes they’d just believe him when he says things are fine, because it’s so tiring to have to make himself look fine too. "Really. I'll join you guys in a minute."

They're always reluctant to go, and though he feels guilty, and sometimes all he wants to do is be alone and wallow, he loves them for it. He loves that they want to stay.

Getting up and handing out candy to the kids in a half-assed costume does make him feel a bit better, seeing their giddy, smiling faces and all of the cute costumes he has to pretend to be scared of.

He feels a little bit of the warmth he felt this time last year come back.

November ??th 2019

He wakes up feeling off. He can't quite place why, or what the feeling is exactly. He just feels funny.

There are no windows in this room, so he doesn’t get any natural light. It throws off his body clock, although winter usually fucks with him anyway. His lack of outdoor escapades doesn’t exactly help him. He can’t be getting much vitamin D.

He hadn't thought much of it himself. He’s sat at the table sipping tea in his underwear, trying to read a book when his friends walk in, Hoseok stopping so abruptly that Yoongi slams into his back.

Hoseok frowns at him. "You never drink tea."

"I felt like something warm today,” he shrugs, vehemently tuning out their eyes scanning his near naked body.

Yoongi nods, from behind Hoseok. "Yep. That checks out."

"Are you feeling okay?" Hoseok asks, already coming forward to feel his forehead before he has time to duck out of the way. "He's burning up." They exchange a concerned look from above him.

He frowns, eager to draw their eyes back to him if only so they’ll stop talking about him without words whilst he’s right there. "I'm fine. Stop treating me like a five year old. You're not my parents."

Namjoon has no words left to say, when five minutes later he’s being tucked back into bed, blankets pulled up to his neck, and his tea and book both set down within arms length. They tell him he needs to rest, before pulling the door shut behind them, and that’s that. Maybe they are his parents after all..

Now that he has permission, it's like the illness he was convinced he didn’t even have starts to kick in. He tries to read for as long as he can, but the words all move around on the page, and even though he got a good night's rest his eyes start feeling heavy again.

He doesn't know what to do with himself when he wakes up. 

Everything feels far away, too soft to even exist, even the pain that keeps him on the brink of falling asleep when he's awake, and waking when he's asleep. It feels like the end and he can't care as much as he wants to. Maybe he's being dramatic. But there's so little he can actually bring himself to think about.

Hoseok or Yoongi come in every now and then. They offer up various forms of entertainment for him, but he keeps getting so lost in his own head that he can't see the point to it. He doesn't even know if it's day or night, with no natural sunlight getting in.

Whenever he gets up to go to the bathroom, his feet feel like they're floating. It's trippy, like walking on a cloud, and he can't be sure of what's real. He feels himself swaying, unable to balance when there’s nothing underneath his feet. But he isn't scared, because it’s like his head is made of the same stuff as the floor is.

All he actually wants is a hug. It’s such an innocent thing. He just wants that closeness to another human being. It starts so innocently, but maybe the desire for this thing that he can't have is why he starts having the dreams.

Every night they come back, the dreams. If it's even night at all. He's sleeping more than he's ever slept in his life. If the dreams could end, maybe his fever could break alongside them, but they don't. It’s every time he falls asleep.

Seokjin's lips on his neck, his touch burning hot on his skin. A remedy.

The slide of hips, the satisfaction of feeling full, feeling completed, imagining it isn't the illness making him sweat into his sheets. He misses him so much.

He swears at some moments he can feel hands on his hips, fingers intertwined with his. A kiss on his forehead, after sweaty locks are brushed back. It's possible he dreamt it, but it felt so real.

It's possible that Hoseok, or Yoongi snook in to comfort him, but he doesn't ask them, after. He doesn't really want to add more lucidity to those days, those memories. They bring the past so much closer to him, and the difference between being awake and sleeping is too confusing, he’s torn between bliss and agony.

Whining alone into his mattress, head feeling hot and a dull throbbing pain in his head that brings with it grey cloudy skies that refuse to clear.

Maybe it's subconscious, the reason he's dreaming about this, because this was the time of year he left. Perhaps that's why Namjoon is ill now, after years of good health - because the sadness had messed with his immune system and then left him in such a cruel way.

Maybe those days are the hardest ones. He doesn't know. It gets hard to tell once they're past him, once the discomfort is too far away to recall. But the next days are hard, he knows that much.

The days when he ends up too ill to even care about Seokjin, and he dreams of absolutely nothing. Those days blur by him even more than the last ones did. There’s nothing worth thinking about. There’s nothing he can think about. All he’s able to do is breathe, and try to keep his head above water.

Yoongi and Hoseok wear masks to bring him water, and soup, providing some insight into the passing of time, but it’s nothing his brain will let him hold onto. He just knows that time feels like nothing at all until they come back again. 

It's a wonder that neither of them get sick, taking care of him like they do. But they're happy, they get sunlight, and they're the kind of responsible adults who take supplements - not even just the gummy ones. Maybe that’s the difference.

After a few days, he starts trying to stretch out his weary bones some more. It feels like he's spent the whole month in bed. Coming out of it should give him a new lease of life, and it kind of does, but not in the way that it ought to.

There was so little to hold onto. So little he could do or think about without feeling sick and dizzy. He thinks that could be what it feels like to forget someone for good. Coming so close to Seokjin again, feeling his touch so vividly, only to have it all torn away and be thrown into such emptiness.. 

There's a lot of crying in these next days. The days when he knows he's over the worst of it, when he's getting better. He's not sure why, but it's probably the pain. He couldn’t feel it as much before, because his head was stuffed with cotton balls. Now, it squeezes his skull. Now, the cotton is in his lungs, and it makes it harder to breathe. He's never felt as hopeless as he does in these days.

He knows he's getting better. It only makes him feel worse. 

December 3rd 2019

"You can be christmassy now, Namjoon-ah."

Namjoon points to his shelf without looking up. To where he knows that tucked amongst his deodorants and standing beside his tacky plastic tree is a small glass bottle.

"I bought gingerbread incense,” he deadpans. “Now my room smells like stale biscuits."

"That's the spirit," Hoseok exclaims.

Yoongi nods in clarity. "So that's what that smell is."

Namjoon shrugs. It’s not like anyone can say he didn’t make an effort.

He comes out of his room to watch them decorate their christmas tree. He doesn't want to join in, on account of his bad track record with christmas decorations. So he just occupies himself with other things, and appreciates their company.

He’s felt too lethargic to even smile lately. He knows he’s a lot better than last year, and winter is always going to be a hard season for him, but he can’t help but feel like he must be a real drain on morale for them.

He peels tangerines for Yoongi and Hoseok to eat, snacking on odd segments as he goes. He likes this feeling of being helpful, whilst also being able to stay in the background. It's not much, but it's something. Not quite enough to distract him, but if he’s being honest, he doesn’t really want a distraction.

How many christmases were there before Seokjin? Fifteen? Sixteen? And yet now, it's as though the entire day must have been filled with only him. And it's not true. But he feels so impossibly alone this time. 

He doesn't have anyone else to go to. Hoseok and Yoongi would always let him join them without him even having to ask, but he doesn't want to ruin their first christmas together. After how last year went, too. It’s not ideal. He knows how that feels too well. His parents.. aren't an option. He could be alone. He can do that. It's just another day he has to get through, after all.

That feeling when the snow refuses to fall, and the entire mood of the day is different because of it.. when you can't quite get into the right frame of mind for the festivities because it's somehow wrong, even though this is all made up anyway and not every christmas you've had has been a white one. It’s like once you experience it, that’s the end. Your expectations are altered forever.

That's what it's like to spend christmas without him in his life. They met each other officially when they were in college, at a bar. Namjoon had seen Seokjin around, but never had any real reason to speak to him. Until they were introduced to each other by their friends that night, and that was it. It was Yoongi and Hoseok, and it was Namjoon and Seokjin. For years.

He's always been around for christmas. That's what it feels like. Things change so easily, without you realising what’s happening. Until it's too late. 

All the good in the world is so subjective. As soon as Seokjin was gone, every one of their happy memories turned into a fucking nightmare. Christmas feels like something is missing. He doesn't want much. All he wanted was to have him.

December 24th 2019

Namjoon lines his eyes with glittery silver eyeshadow over matt black underneath. He looks sexy.

Better yet, he feels sexy.

He's been hiding away, making himself feel pretty all day. It's an excuse really.

Truthfully, Namjoon doesn't want to go out there anyway. He hasn't been in the mood to eat or drink all week, and today is no different.

He had showered this morning and got all dolled up to go out for the night, because he just wanted to get drunk and maybe for once feel wanted. Is that self care? Namjoon would like to think so.

The good is still good, even intermingled with self destructive tendencies. Perhaps it's even better. Why wait for something that isn’t going to happen? He may as well jump in at the deep end.

His plan is to try and hook up with someone in a bathroom stall, in the club where he first met Seokjin. His plan is to try to burn as many bittersweet memories as he can away into stone cold regret.

He's dead-set on it too. Already wiggling into his tightest pair of black jeans, dressing up to look good for the first time in who knows how long. Zipping up a pair of heels so high they have him towering over almost everyone.. But it's not a pair until he finds the missing shoe, stepping awkwardly towards his bed to search.

"Fuck!" He staggers forwards, unable to hold himself up on his hurt foot, heel snapping under his weight. "Fuck." He collapses to the floor, squeezing his toe in his hand, trying to get the throbbing pain to stop.

He looks up to find his culprit and it's that goddamned Seokjin box again.

The one that he had ended up dragging back into his room. The one he ended up never actually sorting through. The one keeping him an agonizing juxtaposition of lonely and overwhelmed with company all at once.

He has half a mind to kick it again.

He doesn't though, because his foot still hurts like a son of a bitch, and he hasn't even assessed the damage done by round one yet.

He peels his sock off cautiously, wincing with one eye shut as his wound is revealed. “Not again..”

Of course it's bleeding. This combined with the unyielding knowledge that he's wearing the scratchiest shirt in the world makes him want to commit a crime. Or cry. He drops his head into his hands with a sigh.

He decides to pummel the box instead, short stubby nails glittering red, fiery and pretty as he takes all of his frustrations out on it, feeling it cave under his fists. Until the box breaks open at the top, and he's satisfied, when it’s enough for him to see what is peeking through the very top.

It’s the vinyl he bought Seokjin. Last Christmas, of course.

Seokjin loved it - he'd told Namjoon it was his favourite song. He listened to it so much before Namjoon, and during Namjoon.. And he wouldn’t even take the thing back even though it belongs to him.

That's how badly Namjoon messed up.

Namjoon puts the sleeve to the side and sets the needle down gently on the record. Music floods through the room, and like a dam breaks, so does his resolve, and the tears stream down his face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Yoongi comes in a little while later, to check on him before their party guests arrive. He looks around for a moment, eyes slowly coming down, until they find him on the floor. 

"Did you hurt your foot?" It's a pointless question, actually. The broken heel and blood splatters on the floor tell the story pretty clearly.

"No, hyung, it's okay."

Yoongi twists his lips up like he's deciding whether or not to believe him. "Listen, there's gonna be a lot of people here. You gonna be okay?"

It would be impossible not to notice the infamous vinyl playing in the background, or Namjoon's red rimmed eyes, but he nods anyway and Yoongi lets him.

"I was going to go out." He leaves out the part where he broke down and thus decided not to.

"Okay, well. Tell me if you do." Namjoon forces his lips into a smile and Yoongi leaves again, somewhat reluctantly.

Namjoon spends a short eternity after that trying to pull himself together enough to at least maybe make an appearance at this party.

It's not long before he starts hearing people arrive. He feels like he's imagining things, shakes his head, when there's a strange high, jovial ringing in his ear.

Until Yoongi is pushing his door open again and slipping inside.

"Yeah, you're probably going to want to stay in your room all night.. You don't have to, but, uh.." He trails off, looking more uncomfortable than Namjoon has ever seen him. "Just ring me whenever, and I can bring you anything you like, okay?"

Namjoon's curiosity gets the better of him at the unusual treatment and he crawls forward to peek through the door.

"Joon-ah? What are yo- Hey don't-" Namjoon’s breath is punched out of him. He sees Seokjin laughing, his arm around Jimin’s waist - he really is even prettier in person - as his drink sloshes in his hand. His face is crinkled up, eyes smiling. Still so beautiful. It hurts so much seeing how well and rosy he looks. He’s glad for that, really. 

Namjoon is just so blue.

A hand comes down on his shoulder and he pulls back quickly like he's been burned, heart beating wildly in his chest as he pants. He lets Yoongi push the door closed again.

"What?" He breathes in slowly, trying to regain control. "Is he doing here?"

Yoongi looks almost as stressed as Namjoon, dragging a hand down his face. "I honestly don't know. I don’t know who invited him. I came in here as soon as I saw him.”

"Doesn't he know whose party this is?" He asks, confused, remembering how messy things had got between the group last year.

"You know we talk.. we're on better terms with him now but,” Yoongi shakes his head. “..Yeah, I'm really not sure what he's doing here."

Someone is suddenly calling Yoongi's name from the other room, and he turns apologetically to Namjoon. "I'm sorry.."

"..It makes sense." Namjoon nods.

"What does?" Yoongi pauses with his hand on the door handle.

"Him being here. You're his family, like you are mine." Namjoon smiles as well as he can. "I'm glad he's not alone tonight."

Once Yoongi is gone, Namjoon turns his music up, ignoring the sounds of laughter and merriment seeping through the gap under his door. He pulls out his emergency stash of alcohol, pouring it into a santa mug because tis the season, and no one is taking that away from him.

It’s already an improvement on last christmas eve.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Seokjin looks back and sees the mysterious door shut, as Yoongi slips out, and he gets curious. If Yoongi and Hoseok live here, then that would mean..

Hoseok and Yoongi intercept him before he can enter, materialising out of thin air in front of the door. He steps back, lifting his arms up in surrender. 

Hoseok strikes first. "Don't you know how hard it's been for him?"

"Hey," Yoongi holds him back. "Trust me - I know how you feel, but it's not our place to tell him."

Seokjin looks between the two of them, trying to figure out what their secret looks mean, though he’s never been able to do it before. "Tell me what?" 

Hoseok turns back to Seokjin, and holds a firm stare that chills him to his core. "Don't you dare hurt him again." Then he storms away.

Yoongi lingers a moment longer. "I don't know if going in there is a good idea.." The ball of anxiety in Seokjin's stomach tightens. "But you're here tonight, and if you don't go and talk to him.." He sighs. "You're both adults. You make your own decision, because if you hurt him again, sure we're the ones who'll be left picking up the pieces, but you're the one who has to live with yourself."

That could have, and should have, went worse. The rest of them have always been good at talking things out, facing things head on. Not like him. Running away from Namjoon meant giving up his friends, and their voices of reason. He knew he hurt them all, but it makes it that much worse knowing you've wronged somebody when they have the opportunity to punch you in the face and they choose not to.

They're good people.

Seokjin finds himself frozen outside of the door for several minutes after Yoongi has left. They're right. He has his own decision to make here. Not just about what serves him best, but about the damage he could do to Namjoon. Because he didn't think about it nearly enough the day he left. Or the day Namjoon came to his apartment.

This could be his last chance to make it right.

He knocks a few times, with his relatively free hand, before opening the door a crack.

The sound of 'Last Christmas' throws him off for a second. He used to listen to it so often, but after he left he couldn't ever bring himself to listen to it in full.

It's the first time, in a long time, that he's letting himself hear it. He needs no more confirmation of whose room this is than that. He takes one deep breath, and then speaks. “Alright. You better be decent, because I’m coming in.”

He holds that breath in an attempt to have some control, but has it torn away when he steps in and is met with the sight of Namjoon - just sitting there.

All dressed up with nowhere to go. He's wearing what looks like the most uncomfortable shirt in the world. Scratchy sequins and glitter threaded mesh. 

Not that he doesn't look good. There's no way he couldn't. He looks good even first thing in the morning, after he's just woken up, eyes still half closed and hair sticking up all over the place.

Seokjin doesn't deserve to know that though. 

He rattles the bottle in his hand, catching sight of Namjoon's half empty vodka beside him. "I guess you won't be needing a drink, then? I see you’ve already had one. Or twelve."

They don't laugh. Namjoon's eyes are red. It's.. sad. He looks smaller somehow than he used to. Sharper, maybe. Fragile.

It feels like forever ago when Seokjin would have held him close and kissed his forehead and made everything so much better.

But now he just cuts straight through the bullshit. “I had a feeling you were in here. Were you planning on staying in here for the whole night?”

After Namjoon doesn't answer him, too busy sulking, he opens his mouth again, awkwardly.

"Have you eaten today? Have you even left this room?" He doesn't answer again, and Seokjin thinks about how odd Yoongi and Hoseok were acting in regards to Namjoon, and decides it's unlikely. "..You could come out with me, now if you want..?"

When he sets the bottle down on top of Namjoon's dresser, he's met with an icy glare. "You should know you don't get to do that anymore."

"Do what?"

"Care," Namjoon spits. 

Seokjin flinches. It takes him a second longer than he'd like to recover from the shock, and force a smile back onto his lips. "I didn't give up my humanity, Joon-ah.. I can still care about you." He laughs quietly, humourless.

"No, you gave up your right to think about me. At all." Namjoon's eyes burn with the effort not to cry. He can't cry in front of Seokjin - can't let him think he's weak. Not for him. Not now.

Seokjin snorts. "You might as well tell me to stop breathing."

Namjoon attempts to scoff at him, but there's no malice in his voice. He's too tired for it. "You've been in here a while.. Shouldn't you be getting back to your fiance?"

Seokjin smiles, amused.

Then stops when he realises, with a stone cold heart, that Namjoon is actually serious. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Your li-little boyfriend.. Was that it Jin? ..Was I too tall for you?" Namjoon sniffles and after all this time, Seokjin's heart still breaks at the sound of it.

He sighs, shaking his head. "Oh, I'm much too sober for this."

A couple of swigs shared between them later, and Seokjin's mouth is hanging open in horror. "Oh! No, no! Did you see the guy Yoongi was talking to? Uhh, red hair.. Looks like a model. That's Jimin's fiance, Taehyung! The instagram post was a joke . We were all trying on his ring and - Wait. I'm on private , and I thought you didn't even have instagram.."

"Yoongi hyung." Namjoon shrugs casually, like Seokjin's revelation wasn't mind-blowing. 

Seokjin's face twists up. "I'm gonna kill him. Why would he even show you that?"

It’s interesting that he would be upset over something like that. When what started all of this in the first place was him leaving. But Namjoon doesn’t want to cause anymore animosity between them by pointing that out. 

"It wasn't his fault. He showed me, in the hospital, because I wasn't doing too well.. Yoongi hyung thought if I saw that you were happy, it would be easier for me to move on." Namjoon smiles. "I was happy for you.. but I probably shouldn't have looked at the pictures until I was stronger."

Seokjin's tipsiness drains out of him. "You were in the hospital? Wait, Namjoon-ah, why were you in the hospital?"

Namjoon scrunches his face up, taking another swig. "It was nothing, just a small house fire."

"A house fire!?"

Namjoon shushes him gently, bringing a tipsy finger to his lips. "A very small one.. but hyung found me! And let me tell you, he's stronger than he looks, you know."

"Holy shit, Namjoon.. When did this even happen?" He runs a hand through his hair shakily. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Like you would have answered.."

He looks so affronted. "Of course I would have answered! You were in the hospital Namjoon!"

Namjoon laughs bitterly, drinking down another mouthful with a wince. "I called you that night. You didn't pick up, hyung. I took the hint."

Seokjin's mouth is open, in outrage and confusion as he tries to think. "When? What are you talking about? The last time you called me, I called you back!"

"It was Christmas Eve, last year, and no, you didn't!"

"It was that night? Namjoon, I called you back." Seokjin says, frantically. "Your phone must have been turned off."

Namjoon pauses for a minute, thinking, before finally he snorts out a laugh. Oh. "It's still there."

What excellent timing that must have been.

"At the house? You didn't go back for it?" Seokjin's face screws up in confusion, and Namjoon laughs even harder.

"I couldn't face it, hyung. I still can't." That place is too full of memories. It’s the complete antithesis of everything he had wanted. He’ll take this windowless box room over going back to that lonely house any day. And all this time, he thought Seokjin just hadn’t bothered to pick up the call.

Seokjin looks away, picking a spot on the floor and staring. "Oh.. So you never went back?"

"Nope," Namjoon chirps, before he does the same. Although they're buzzed enough to dull the soul deep ache of meeting one another's eyes, it's just more comfortable to pretend they're alone.

Namjoon looks up, across the room at Seokjin whilst he's looking the other way. It's only now that he notices the mistletoe in his hair.

Namjoon purses his lips. "How many people got to kiss you, tonight?"

"Three," Seokjin admits. A sick feeling, like his bones are being sawed through washes over Namjoon. "On the lips? Zero." 

He sees Seokjin's smirk, and the feeling is gone just as quick as it arrived.

He feels bad for the sudden surge of jealousy. But when he looks at Seokjin, all he can remember is being with him. He has to keep reminding himself that Seokjin isn't his anymore. Seokjin is free to kiss whoever he likes.

"You're as beautiful as you were that day.” It escapes from his lips before he has a chance to stop it. He holds his breath, head feeling a little light anyway, and wonders if Seokjin will just pretend he didn’t hear it.

"What day?" Seokjin asks softly, unsure if he really wants to hear the answer.

Namjoon exhales. "The day I decided to buy you a ring."

"Joon-ah.."

His voice sounds so soft, and pained, and it hurts. Namjoon closes his eyes, willing this year away from them. He doesn’t want to hear it again, doesn’t think he can. He opens his mouth to cut him off.

The words on the tip of his tongue are stolen away when a pair of warm lips land on his own. So familiar to him and yet so unknown. It’s been so long he had forgotten the way Seokjin tastes, but it’s all coming back to him now.

His tongue remembers Seokjin, and it falls into a routine without him having to think of anything at all. 

Seokjin nips at his bottom lip, kisses the freckle on his chin, before his weight leaves Namjoon. It’s so jarring. The lack of it. A reminder of how easily things can come and go, how unexpectedly.

Namjoon opens his eyes slowly, scared that he could be dreaming. He sees Seokjin lean back on his knees, awkwardly wiping his mouth with his sleeve. His lips still tingle. 

"You've got makeup on,” Seokjin notes. “Were you going out tonight?"

"I was,” Namjoon starts. “But then.." He gestures weakly to the box at the other side of the room, not even giving it a glance.

"Let me guess," he laughs, walking over to it. "You tripped over this box of- Ah."

Namjoon watches Seokjin, as he looks through his own things, unable to decide how he feels about it. After all, earlier this year, Seokjin had said he didn't even want it back.

If he had just taken the box back then, maybe Namjoon never would have spiralled that second time.

Maybe he would have still.

Maybe everything would have gone the same way, except tonight, when Namjoon would have made it out the door before the party even started.

And he would be oblivious, holed up in a club bathroom somewhere. Should he be happy that this is how it all worked out?  

Namjoon squints, hand coming up to scratch at his neck. "Do you love me?"

Seokjin ignores him, throwing something over his shoulder and completely avoiding the question. Well, so much for that.

"That shirt doesn't look comfortable. Here."

"What?"

Seokjin sighs, turning around to face him with a stern look on his face. "I've been watching you, and if you scratch your neck again I'll scream.. I told you to cut your tags out."

Namjoon frowns. "It's made of sequins, hyung. I don't think it was designed to be comfortable.” He deliberately avoids thinking about the reason he chose to wear this shirt tonight in the first place.

Anyway, he had tried to cut the tag out of a shirt himself once, and he ended up looking like a vampire had attacked the back of his neck. He thinks he gave it a fair attempt.

“Come on, take your shirt off.”

“What?!” 

Seokjin looks at him blankly until he relents. Namjoon can never win a staring match against him, he gets too worried about the condition of his eyes. “Fine, fine.”

Whilst he takes the extremely scratchy shirt off, Seokjin bunches up the one he's holding. He glances up when he’s done, and does a double take when his eyes pass Namjoon's chest. "You got your nipples pierced?"

"Another impulsive breakdown-fueled decision. I actually like this one though. " His voice gets thicker as he turns his neck down to watch his own hands fondle one of the small metal bars. "I pawned your engagement ring to buy them."

Seokjin goes ghostly pale, but neatly brushes over that last part. "You're uncomfortable when you leave the tags in your shirts, but you can let someone put a needle through your nipples? ..You never cease to amaze me."

He hums. "Is that a good thing?"

"It's not a bad thing.." He goes over then, because Namjoon is distracted, taking the shirt and looping it over Namjoon's neck, just letting it hang there, before nodding awkwardly to his chest. "Can I?"

Namjoon snorts. "Go wild." 

Seokjin decides not to take that literally. He runs his fingers over one of the barbells gently, curious. "Does it hurt?"

"It did a bit at first. It itched like hell too. They're healed now though, so not anymore.” Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice the way he leans into Seokjin’s gentle touch as he carries on talking. "It was actually a good decision. The fear of getting an infection and having to have my nipples amputated helped me break out of my slump for a while there."

"That's good, Joon-ah. I’m really glad." Seokjin says, utterly in awe with Namjoon's chest. He gets a thought suddenly and brushes his lips over one of his nipples.

Namjoon's breath itches, his muscles tensing up. "Hyung what are you doing?"

Seokjin pulls back, looking up to meet Namjoon’s eyes. It’s a little bit jarring after so long. To properly meet his eyes like this. "Do you want me to stop?"

He waits for an answer, the whole time looking into Namjoon’s eyes wondering how he’ll make himself look away again. 

"..No."

Seokjin puts his lips back, eyes trained on Namjoon's as he lays a gentle kiss over his nipple. He's satisfied with something so innocent at first.

It progresses quickly, as most things do. Seokjin gets off track quickly, kissing all over Namjoon's chest, hand gravitating back to his pretty jewelry, teasing soft moans and hitched exhales from Namjoon.

"I wanted to see you wearing my shirt.. but now I know you have nipple piercings, I don't know what I want," he says breathlessly, pulling away.

He likes that Seokjin likes his nipple piercings. It was the first thing that he did for himself. Even though the past year has had its fair share of ups, and more downs than Namjoon would have liked, at least he got to spend it feeling sexy.

Namjoon pulls his torso up and manages, with great difficulty, to slip his arms through the sleeves. Shortly after, falling back panting with exhaustion. 

The shirt is still pooled up around his collar bones, and Seokjin smiles at him like he's just given him exactly what he wanted for christmas.

The shirt ends up getting shoved pretty far up anyway, and there isn't much point in him wearing it.. Except to be smothered by Seokjin in every way he can. 

"I love you more than anything," Seokjin mutters, smoothing his hands up and down Namjoon's hips, answering his earlier question in the only way he seems to do anything these days. "More than anything in the world."

Namjoon watches him from the bed, feeling his head throb along with his throat, swallowing thickly. "I've missed you so much, hyung."

It's too late. It's all just too late.

Seokjin pulls back abruptly, like he’s been shocked. "I'm sorry, Namjoon-ah." He looks so broken and conflicted all of a sudden. "We shouldn't do this. I'm glad you were going out tonight.. It's good you're moving on."

Namjoon pushes himself back up on his wrists again, and his shirt falls bunched up around his hips. He looks over at Seokjin holding his head in his hands, and he feels calm despite all the anger, the sadness and loneliness he's been plagued with for more than a year now.

It's a laughable accusation; recovery.

"I was going to go to the bar where we met, to try and find someone who looked like you.. at least when I closed my eyes." There's a silence that only exists between them, the turntable drowned out into white noise. "Is that what you want me to do? I don’t know how to move on from you. Do you want me to try?"

"I don't know," Seokjin confesses.

"Can I tell you something?"

Seokjin inhales. "Go ahead." He winces, like he's bracing himself for the sting of it.

Namjoon sighs, tiredly. "It gets so cold at night sometimes that it drives me crazy. I haven’t been dealing with anything very well since you left. And tonight, I don’t know.. I just needed to do something. I can't deal with the cold anymore."

"Why don't you get some more blankets?" Seokjin suggests faux-coolly, and Namjoon scoffs at how awkward he looks trying to pretend he doesn't know what he’s talking about.

"I want you, Jin hyung.. I want you." Seokjin looks away, battling with himself. "Please. I don't want to have to start bringing strangers home just to keep my bed warm. Not if I don’t have to. Not if neither of us want me to.. Please, hyung," Namjoon begs.

Namjoon looks over at Seokjin, seeing his struggle, and lets himself fall back, elbows propping his straining neck up. His legs fall apart easily, creating space between them for someone else. 

Seokjin bites his lip. "Joon-ah, you know it's not a good idea.. For either of us."

"I don’t care about that. Please, hyung. Let's make tonight mean everything.. even if tomorrow has to be nothing. It’s not like it can hurt any more.” His voice breaks. “We never got to say goodbye.”

Tomorrow they'll have nothing. Nothing of each other, save for the memories of this. Seokjin gulps. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Namjoon nods.

Seokjin pulls his own jumper over his head impatiently before diving over, falling back into the easy rhythm of kissing Namjoon. Grasping at his neck and his hair and anything he can hold, like he’s an anchor in the ocean, and he was searching for so long for something to ground him. But nothing could, not like this. 

"I missed you, baby" He mutters into Namjoon’s neck, suckling at his skin as he sneaks his hand down his far too constrictive jeans.

Namjoon gasps from underneath Seokjin, hips lifting to meet his touch. "I've missed you too hyung."

The knowledge that this is the last time looms heavy between them. Wisdom has never been such a cruel and ugly thing. But it has to be better than before. Getting closure somehow just has to be better.

They laugh like they're awkward virgins again when Seokjin struggles to tug Namjoon’s jeans down, so tight it’s like they’re superglued to his skin. When he finally succeeds, they're both breathless - albeit for different reasons.

Namjoon hasn’t had someone touch him like this in so long. Seokjin kisses his hip bones, paints them in love bites, colours him in so tenderly like no one else ever has, and like he hopes no one else ever will.

At some point Seokjin's jeans must be discarded too, but Namjoon can barely focus on anything except for the soothing touch of tongue against hot skin. Namjoon moans, letting Seokjin tenderly coax him apart, gripping his thumbs into his thighs, parting them around himself.

Seokjin carries on easing his bones of their tension, breathing hot air over his hips, his stomach, his dick. Namjoon can do nothing but lay back, his throat more exposed than it has been in so long. He’s ready for anything at all. He’s ready to die right now, just so long as he could die beside Seokjin.

He moans as the pleasure dances along each one of his nerves, setting him alight, like the city streets in wintertime.

Seokjin fingers him so tenderly like they're still in a relationship. Like they're still in love. Being cherished has never felt so good or bad.

His lips being met again and again, sinking so deep into the mattress he thinks he could just fall through, as Seokjin’s fingers demonstrate how well they still know him, and Namjoon wraps his arms around him to be sure they won’t stop.

When Seokjin stops eventually, despite Namjoon's attempts at keeping him close, it's to get a condom out of his jeans. When they were together, he never used to wear one. Namjoon wont, can’t, bring himself to ask.

It’s okay, so long as he has him for now.

He pulls his knees up to his chest when he sees Seokjin coming back, holding himself apart after over a year of just trying to keep himself together.  

Seokjin smiles at him, close enough to caress the backs of his thighs, setting a fire inside of him. He smooths his hands down his thighs, over his belly and his ribs, moving his shirt up until he can tickle the jewelry on his chest, before finally coming to rest on either side of his head. “Are you ready?”

Namjoon gulps. He is ready. But he thinks it’s crazy how much time has passed since this was normal for them. How strange it feels that he’s nervous for it, to have sex with this man he once swore he would spend forever with. He wonders if Seokjin is thinking the same thing, minus the forever part of course..

“I’m ready,” he says, grasping at his own skin for the comfort he needs to admit it. “Are you?”

Seokjin smiles. “I missed you.”  

He presses in so slowly. Namjoon wishes he'd go faster, but he knows Seokjin, and he wont. He wants to savour this. 

It's torturous, gradually being filled after so long being empty. He feels like he's back in November again, under the spell of that fever that refused to break. He almost believes he's dreaming again.

"God Joon-ah," he hisses quietly. "You're so tight. How long has it been?"

Except dream Seokjin never said anything like that.

Namjoon scoffs as the magic atmosphere between them is broken, and then chokes as Seokjin thrusts deeper inside him. He doesn't want to start up something whilst they're doing this , but..

"Are you really asking me that? Right now?" He gestures as well as he can to what’s happening. Not that he needs to, because he’s pretty sure Seokjin is also aware of their current position. "Me?" He confirms, for emphasis.

"Oh, right,” Seokjin says, pausing in his motions to hover tentatively above him. “I don’t know why I said that. I didn't even think. I'm sorry."

Now Namjoon feels bad. He can't cope with feeling bad for someone when their dick is literally in his ass. It’s absurd. He sighs. "Tonight would have been the first time, since.. You know when. Now, let's not spend this time being sorry. If it's our last time, then let's at least make it good. Yeah?"

Seokjin nods somberly. Namjoon sighs, hating to see him sad. Especially when he’s looming above him like a rain cloud. He pulls him closer, hands under his ears to guide him down. "Come here."

Namjoon kisses him like he's trying to memorise every part of him. He hadn't known before how quickly it could all be over. He had never gotten a last kiss. He had just been given an ellipsis.

The truth is, he doesn't want to be fucked by anyone else. He doesn't want to be fucked full stop. Only tonight did he consider it, heart full of bitter regret on this day full of pain and mistakes and swallowed anger. 

He's so glad he didn't make it out tonight. He dreads to think what that would have looked like in the morning. He dreads to think what this will look like in the morning, too, but he has a feeling it'll still feel better than everything this past year has felt like.

As teeth sink into the tender skin of his neck, and soft hands slide over his thighs, Namjoon wonders what exactly this means to Seokjin. This now, today, when everything is so far from how it was that it feels impossible to ever come back. 

He wishes this had been last year. It's so surreal it could almost be an alternate timeline. One where he had stayed. One where he had said yes.

He had missed Seokjin's hands roaming his body like he owns it so much. He only wishes it didn't have to be so bittersweet. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine them back in 2018 again, before everything went to hell.

Seokjin changes the angle of his thrusts, and the thoughts are knocked out of Namjoon's head by that heavy presence inside him, and above him. Claiming him. 

That's what he focuses on. For a moment, instead of overcomplicating things, he just focuses on the pleasure. 

He lets out soft sighs and moans, eyes fluttering open every few seconds to meet Seokjin's, looking back at him in a way he doesn't want to risk deciphering.

He bites his own lip hoping Seokjin will take the cue, not surprised, just pleased, when he does. They lock lips, and Seokjin rocks into him, and it's crazy how they seem to say so many words without ever speaking them out loud.

But they're different people now. They still know each other's bodies better than they know their own, but they have all this new stuff to explore now. There's an entire year of unchartered territory between them that should never have been there to begin with.

There's so much more they're going to have to talk about, and work out. They're going to have so much new history to go over before they can hope to get back to how they were.

Tears spring to his eyes when his arms wrap around Seokjin's waist and he feels him lean down to kiss his lips, like muscle memory leftover from the countless times they've done this before.

He can't believe he just said that, like he believed it. Like he forgot for a second what this was. It's not them getting back together again, or them uncovering each other's secrets. Namjoon had forgotten so easily what he told himself after Seokjin left. They can't come back from this.

It's still a goodbye.

He suddenly feels too vulnerable like this. He can't be simultaneously crying and getting fucked on his back right now. He just can't. Not with Seokjin here. Not when he has to pretend he's okay. Anything Seokjin tries to fix will just be broken again tomorrow.

Namjoon pushes at Seokjin's chest, forcing him to move back. He hovers over Namjoon tentatively, a frown marring his face. "Are you okay?"

"Lie down. I want to ride you," Namjoon says, already pushing himself up and out from underneath Seokjin.

He looks surprised, but he doesn’t argue. He moves quickly into the space Namjoon had left, shuffling back until he's leaning against the headboard. Namjoon moves in to crouch over him, trying not to lose his balance as he gets closer, finally bracing himself on Seokjin's outstretched arms.

Namjoon lowers himself down, taking his time. Being filled again feels so sweet, he doesn't want to rush through it, as he's split open on Seokjin's cock.

He feels Seokjin's biceps tense under his fingertips, bracing himself around the muscles that feel just the same way they used to. He can sense Seokjin watching him closely, even when his eyes can't help but fall shut.

He's so unused to this. It all feels so strange after so long of being alone.

He tries not to let tears fall. He knows his eyes are glistening and it's embarrassing, to be close to tears just because he hasn't been fucked in a whole year. Then again, that isn't the only reason he's emotional. It's still embarrassing, and he hopes it just looks like his makeup is glittering in the dim light.

He starts moving, more sure of himself in spite of the plethora of emotions coursing through him. Bodies are easier to navigate than minds, and he knows it for a fact, because all it takes for him to prise a moan from Seokjin's lips is to move his hips just right. It's much easier than trying to talk about feelings.

Namjoon whines, squeezing around Seokjin when he finds his prostate, rocking himself back and forth to try and find that spot again.

Maybe if it feels good enough he will forget the sadness. He's a fool, though, if he really thinks that. Maybe it would work with literally anyone else, but not with Seokjin.

The hands holding him there move suddenly until one is warm on his waist under the shirt. The other goes to his face, wiping away a stray tear. "Baby, why are you crying?"

Oh well. It's too late now. Namjoon rides harder, but is unable to keep his emotions at bay. So he says what the hell, and lets himself feel all the sadness at once, his tears falling between them.

"You know why," he says, grinding down.

Seokjin tenses beneath him, slowing the little upwards movements of his hips whenever Namjoon decides to take out last year's anger by essentially trying to crush his dick. “Hey, easy.”

Namjoon reaches between them and starts to stroke himself slowly, working himself up until he can't keep his spine from bowing, curling into Seokjin, until his head ends up in the crook of his neck.

It's the last time. It was always going to be overwhelming. He just didn't know to what extent.

A sympathetic crier, Seokjin has started to tear up too now, which only makes it harder for Namjoon to stop. They're a mess honestly, Seokjin shushing him with a finger to his lips and a sad smile, voice cracking when he tells him he's being silly.

Namjoon's tears fall onto Seokjin's chest every time he closes his eyes.

“How’d I ever let you go?”

“You didn’t,” Seokjin smiles sadly. Namjoon knows he means so much more in those two little words.

He's starting to panic before he knows it, because he's trying, but can't put aside the fact that he's gonna have to say goodbye tonight. Not just to this, but to every memory they have together. Skipping classes and snow days and birthdays and hotel trips and just everything. Everything they ever did.

He feels Seokjin's hands on his face, trying to keep him grounded. He resists at first because it's so hard knowing how easily Seokjin can make him feel better, when that knowledge is going to have the opposite effect on him tomorrow. 

He can't fight it forever though, when Seokjin tells him, through his own voice thick with tears, "Take a deep breath, and then let me go."

He chokes on that breath, collapsing in a heap against Seokjin's chest. They cry together, arms wrapped around each other, until they stop shaking.

Until Seokjin lays Namjoon down on the bed, and moves to hover over him, sliding between his legs.

He traces his hands over Namjoon's hips lovingly, eyes travelling lower, then coming back up. "You're so beautiful." 

He doesn't think he'll ever be able to stop crying.

One of his legs is pushed up, and then Seokjin is pressing back inside. The new angle has them both moaning into each other's mouths.

Namjoon can feel Seokjin's breath on his jaw, his eyes on his lips. He pauses there for a few seconds, trying not to come. 

Soft little moans leave both of their lips as Seokjin moves again, his thrusts shallow and slow.

Seokjin's hands slide up his ribcage, itching closer to his chest. Wet fingers slide over his nipples, rubbing tiny circles into the sensitive skin.  

There are lips on his skin now too, grazing, teasing.

He starts to twitch, his feet curling up. Seokjin continues pressing into him, gliding over his prostate as he continues nipping at his neck.

Hands squeeze at his hip, and Namjoon is so close now. His breathing speeds up, his desperation growing stronger. He pulls Seokjin down to kiss him, to get a good look at his beautiful face, whilst he still can. 

Seokjin starts dragging his fist over Namjoon's dick in time with his thrusts, which seem to get sloppier and yet more determined. As he's brought closer and closer to the edge, the neediness he feels deep inside him gets stronger, until he thinks he'll burst with it.

"Hyung, say you love me," Namjoon sobs. He just needs to hear it again. Just one more time. "Tell me you love me."

Seokjin hips grow more erratic, faster and more relentless, and Namjoon doesn't think it's because he's close. He thinks it's because he would cry otherwise. 

He whispers into Namjoon's ear. "I love you, Joon-ah.. that's why I have to let you go."  

Tears escape from the corners of Namjoon's closed eyes as his cries wrack through his body as hard as the orgasm does, the pleasure bittersweet and tainted by cruel thoughts of an after that Seokjin won’t be a part of.

Seokjin brings Namjoon through his orgasm, fucking him slowly. Like he's fragile, and he might break him otherwise. Like he's that fucking angel on the tree. Like he holds anywhere near as much worth saving.

Tears burn hot down his cheeks, and Namjoon melts into the touch. He never wants Seokjin to stop touching him even when it hurts. He feels overwhelmed, and overstimulated, but hasn't that been the theme of this entire year? 

Seokjin's hips stutter as he comes, their torsos pressed together as close as they could possibly be. It's warm, his toes flexing as he’s filled, becoming just a little bit colder when he remembers that Seokjin had used a condom.

He ties it off and discards it, and Namjoon gets scared for a moment, wondering if he could be thrown away just as easily.

Seokjin goes to pull away from him, and Namjoon stops him, wrapping his legs around his waist to trap him there. "Wait, please. Just for a minute. Can we just wait ."  

So Seokjin stays, and Namjoon leans over him, brushing the remaining tears away from under his eyes with his thumb. "Just wait."

They wait, falling in and out of sleep, Namjoon tangled strategically around Seokjin, keeping him from leaving.

When they wake, Namjoon still clings to him, pouting sulkily, fresh tears threatening to spill. He won’t get to do this again. He wants to hold him this close whilst he’s still allowed. Before their only interactions go back to being like that one in the hallway again. 

He doesn't know how he will be able to cope with it. He needs to soak up as many memories as he can right now, to last him long enough for him to figure out what to do.

Seokjin leaves him though, eventually, saying he has to get them cleaned up. He keeps walking as if he doesn't hear it when Namjoon tells him to stay.

Namjoon watches the door the whole time he's gone, feeling emptier and emptier every second that passes without him returning. Time seems to pass so slowly, and Namjoon's heart turns cold and numb as he starts thinking maybe he never will.

That, of course, is the moment he returns, pulling the door closed behind him, washcloth in one hand and a bag of tangerines in the other. "I remember this," he says, holding them up. "Tangerine season."

But he doesn’t remember it like Namjoon does.

He can't contain it anymore. The actions weren't enough. They need words, too. Even if it's difficult. Even if it's explosive and volatile and it makes things worse before it makes them better. This is his chance to talk.

"Why did you leave me? I didn't want you to go."

Seokjin puts the items down before he registers the meaning of those words, and pauses in front of the closed door. His voice cracks. "I'm sorry."

They both know that Seokjin left because he panicked, but the real question is why he didn't come back.

"It's never too late to come back, you could always have come back to me," he insists, crawling to the edge of the bed. You still could, he doesn't say.

He's contradicting himself now, but having Seokjin here in front of him gives him so much more insight than he had back then. They could have made it work. He wouldn't have had to hurt so much. 

"No, I couldn't," he argues, pleadingly. "You would have forgiven me like you always do. Like you just did now.. I couldn't watch you do that. You treat yourself like you're nothing because you can't bring yourself to hate me."

The words pierce through his skin like daggers. He shakes his head, eyes blurring, tears spilling over as soon as his face scrunches up in disbelief.

"What the fuck?" Where did that even come from? "You think I couldn't hate you if I wanted to? How did you manage to make me look weak and you look like a victim in the same breath like that." He shakes his head in awe. "It's not my fault that you left."

"Hey, wait. Namjoon," he tries.

"It's not my fault that you didn't come back. I treat myself like I'm nothing? Are you kidding me? What the fuck does that make you then?"

"Namjoon, please-"

"No really, I want to know. Do you really think so little of yourself? That you look down on me for still being in love with you? For having always been in love with you."

Seokjin's eyes widen, trying to interject. "I didn't mean-"

"Because I'm hurt. It may not look like it but I am so fucking hurt because from the second I realised you were gone I knew it was because you were scared. And look, if you really need me to admit it, then I'll admit it. I was angry. But do you really think I spent an entire year fueled by bitterness? Really?" 

Seokjin doesn't try to speak anymore, just stands there at the door, and listens. Namjoon grits his teeth, wiping his face, before he continues.

"How dare you think that I should hate you. How dare you look at me like I don't know my own fucking worth just because I waited for you. Stop feeling sorry for yourself just because I'd still marry you in a fucking heartbeat, hyung. God."

Silence falls between them. It's not quite at the point of being uncomfortable, but it's definitely weird. Like the thrum in your chest when your heart is beating much too fast. It's a bearable quiet, but only for a little while.

"You're right. I do feel sorry for myself. I hate myself for leaving you. I was a coward, and I want more than anything to go back and say yes, but that will never happen. I really fucked up this time Namjoon," he laughs, eyes red and tired. "We can't just forget this happened.. this huge gap in our time together. I hoped you were happy without me Joon-ah.. I really did."

"Well I'm not."

"I know." Seokjin drags his hand down his face in frustration. "That's your problem. It's my problem too. I mean, who are we kidding? Neither of us really love ourselves."

"That's what love is though! I don't have to think about loving myself when I'm with you because you do it for me! I am never ever going to love anyone, myself included as much as I love you." 

Seokjin smiles sadly at him, able to hear every bit of desperation in his words. "You know that you're wrong, Joon-ah. You wouldn't be raising your voice otherwise."

"Please, hyung. We could make it work. We've done it before," Namjoon begs, knowing he's sounding more and more pathetic with every word that falls from his lips.

Seokjin shakes his head. "You're not thinking about this logically. What if we get together and then five or ten years down the line I'm leaving you again. I've done it before. Whose house are you gonna burn down then, Namjoon?"

Namjoon sighs sadly, tired of this distance that remains even after they'd been so close. "It was an accident, asshole. Stop trying to push me away like I don't know what you're doing."

"..I'm sorry Namjoon. I just want you to understand how important this is. You need to love yourself first, before you get into another relationship, or this is going to happen again."

"Wow. I can't believe you're coaching me on my love life as if you're not the one who left me."

Seokjin opens his mouth, but Namjoon cuts him off. "Don't get started on whether I'm right or not, that's not the point, hyung. Out of all the years I've spent alone, that was the loneliest christmas I've ever had.. Where did you even go?"

"To my parents house. It.. just didn't work out."

Namjoon doesn't need Seokjin to tell him what that means.

It hurts knowing what he must have gone through alone. It hurts more knowing he didn't have to, that neither of them had to suffer. "You should have fucking came back."

"I know.. I was scared."

"So was I! I didn't even know if you were alright! I loved you with all that I had and, what? Was it just not enough?" He pleads, with tears filling his eyes and he feels pathetic but he's talking and he knows this is probably the strongest thing he's done all year.

Seokjin shakes his head softly. "You have to let me go Namjoon. I am serious. I'm no good for you."

Namjoon is reaching hysteria, almost pulling his hair out in frustration. "I don't want to. Please don't fucking go again!"

"Stop swearing, Namjoon." Seokjin scolds, seconds before he remembers he has no right to. "I've already left, okay? This isn't my life anymore. You're not my life anymore. This didn't happen." 

He says the words like he's drowning to death on venom, gasping for air. But it's just an involuntary reaction, it doesn't mean he wants to be saved. He did this to himself, after all.

Namjoon knows he's not the only one hurting, but to him, the distance is unlivable.

"How did you get over me?" He asks, finally.

"I'm not so sure I did."

It makes Namjoon angry again. He wants so badly not to be angry, but there's so much wasted, useless time sitting between them right now, and he just wants it to leave them alone.

"..At least lie to me. Tell me you'll still be here when I wake up tomorrow so I can spend one night in peace."

"I don't want to lie to you, I-"

"-Please, hyung. It hurts less," Namjoon pleads, meeting his eyes, wondering if his own look as pained as Seokjin's.

Seokjin sighs, smiles softly, sadly, going to sit on the bed beside him before brushing Namjoon's hair out of his face and nodding.

Namjoon smiles back at him, and after a moment he settles back against the mattress, letting his eyes fall shut.

December 25th 2019

Seokjin leaves when Namjoon falls asleep.

It hurts as badly as the first time, even though at the back of his mind, he knew it was coming. Even though he had asked for it. It doesn't hurt less. He thinks maybe he just wanted the deniability. So he could have last night, so he could sleep without it aching. It wasn't about making today any easier.

Despite everything, he doesn't wake up alone on christmas morning.

He's still wearing Seokjin’s t-shirt, a pair of boxer shorts magically appearing to cling to his hips. He's in his own bed, but sandwiched between Hoseok and Yoongi, who both somehow are tangled up in each other despite having to reach across his body to do so. Seokjin always did say he could sleep through a hurricane. He guesses that accounts for what happened last christmas eve, too.

They pout when he clambers over them, untangling their limbs from around his own, only satiated once he wrestles them into wrapping their arms around each other instead. He stands there for a second watching them, because they’re his best friends in the world, and he couldn’t keep himself from smiling if he wanted to.

He stretches and yawns on his way to the bathroom, only once stumbling over his own feet. His head hurts a little from last night. His heart hurts too. But he finally, at long last, has some closure.

When he takes the shirt off he holds it close, because it smells just like Seokjin. It’s so vivid, he can imagine him being right here when he opens his eyes. 

He notices something on his chest when he looks in the mirror, lowering his hand. He nudges his glasses up his nose and steps closer, letting his hand brush over it very softly, careful not to smudge it.

There's a lipstick kiss, planted on his chest, sitting just to the left of his heart. He knows Seokjin must have put makeup on just to give this to him. This sweet, perfect christmas gift that leaves tingles on his skin. 

Under it, a few words are scrawled in sharpie, and Namjoon once again is amazed at his own ability to sleep like the dead. He hasn’t seen Seokjin’s handwriting since he read that note, way back in November of last year. This note, though he isn’t entirely sure what to make of it, isn’t at all like the last one. 

It simply says, 'for the new year <3'

There's a knot in his stomach as he starts to wonder what it could mean. For the first time in forever, it feels like the beginning of something, like his existence doesn’t just revolve around an ending.

He puts the shirt in the basket for washing, finding it easier to let go now that he has something else to hold onto.

It isn't hard for him to find a waterproof bandage to cover the lip print, or the tape he layers over the top as an assurance that it won't wash away.

It isn't like last year. He won't avoid showering for weeks just to keep the scent of Seokjin there. It's okay if it fades. Because he's gonna make sure that this last kiss never will. 

Time for one final impulsive decision, he thinks.

Namjoon smiles to himself in the mirror as big as he can even though his vision is blurring.

"For the new year."